#honestly if i could ask people who say this about literary fiction one thing...please just read disgraced by coetzee

[hazeism]

hi!! wanted to ask if you have any favorite books, either that you've read recently or of all time. Your prose is insane and I need to broaden my own vocabulary so if you have any book recs, fiction or nonfiction, I'd love to know :')

Hii :D ! ahaha, what a well-timed question; lately I've become the kind of guy who just really wants to talk about what people are reading, or are planning to read, and responding in kind, so thanks for giving me an opportunity to indulge that, haha. What a wicked invention the printing press was!!! (Also--thank you!! I'm glad my prose is to your taste. I'm happy !💕)

If you don't mind, I'll put a cut on this right away, because I know I'm very talkative, but let me put a TLDR above for all the novels/authors I mention here. Disclaimer also that I am kind of a dunce (I think you know this) so I like silly shit a lot of times . please be nice to me adfhbjkdg. :D

(No nonfiction also because I'm a frivolous and unworldly little sprite or something but if you want straight philosophy [which counts] come back and I'll do my Top Ten Epic Platonic Dialogues Compilation for you .)

TLDR: Read any UKLG you get your hands on, Cain by Jose Saramago, or any Saramago (though maybe not Skylight, which is not a good introduction to Saramago), very much enjoyed Sartre's The Age of Reason recently, Shadow & Claw or The Fifth Head of Cerberus by Gene Wolfe. If you feel like it, come off anon and tell me what you like, so I can give more tailored recommendations!!

Now if you're asking for favorites, like just the particular and arbitrary objects of my partiality, that stir my stupid little heart, the true answer is probably UKLG's The Farthest Shore, just because it is very special to me. I can't, of course, in good conscience, recommend the third novel of a six-novel fantasy series to someone (but of course read Le Guin, everyone should be reading Le Guin, it's dire for universal soteriology that we all read Le Guin; You'll probably get told to start with Left Hand of Darkness, and that's pretty solid. I liked The Lathe of Heaven as well. And if you read any Le Guin it doesn't hurt to pick up a copy of the Tao. I love the Tao man.)

Some friendlier recommendations, though:

José Saramago is someone I really consider peerless; There's no way to pick up a Saramago and not know who's written it. Cain is a bit drier, a bit more abrasive (almost accusatory, in that particular way you'll find in a Buddhist parable) and bleak than some other Saramagos, but it's one I like (perhaps for the trite reason that I like bucolic atmospheres and Classical antiquity as a setting) so it's the one I'll put forward.

Uhh, I've also been enjoying Sartre's Roads to Freedom lately, starting with The Age Of Reason. I'm partway through the second novel and umm... despite all the other things you could say about Sartre, lmfao, let it not be said that he is not a serious literary force. Serious is maybe the only word for it. Dire, too. I keep a commonplace book, so usually I take excerpts, but this was the first time in memory that I felt compelled to commit entire pages, ahah (I just took pictures though, fuck copying all that).

If you're itching for esoteric language, Shadow of the Torturer (as usually collected with Claw of the Conciliator in a single omnibus edition titled Shadow & Claw; the first of the give-or-take five volume Urth series) by Gene Wolfe will scratch you BLOODY. If you're particularly fussy, you might be irritated by your compulsion to Google, but I find it really makes the experience when you type in a word and the only results are "what the fuck did Gene Wolfe mean by this?" hahaha; Honestly, though, those kinds of complaints are borne from a lack of immersion, but you'll notice pretty quickly that the verbiage is a pretty crucial vehicle OF the immersion.

It may or may not become a commitment, though, if you like Urth enough to want to read through, so if you want Wolfe without the strings--though less of the exciting vocabulary, which is pretty necessarily constrained to Urth--I'd really highly recommend The Fifth Head of Cerberus (the novella OR the novel, I mean the former is volumized in the latter so just start it and if you feel like stopping then stop, haha). Mr. Terminal E is incredible but I scrape enough time out of my daily life to gush about his crazy literary density so I won't do it again here (you should ask my coworker, lmfao, who one time went "stop, hold on, hold on." because my face started getting really red while I was explaining to him some Wolfean gesture). If you read any Wolfe, and I mean ANY Wolfe, because his permatypes and his manipulations of them are endlessly interesting, feel free to come back and chat with me over it!!!

I guess I have to disclaim that my habit is mostly to pick through an author's corpus over a course of, usually, a couple years, and then sometimes I'll read things that will inform my understanding of the genre conventions or currents that the author is writing in (been enjoying Golden Age sci-fi recently)--it's not really as deliberate of a process as it sounds, but I think if you were to map my habits, that's the landscape of it. This means, though, that my reading is actually pretty narrow in scope, and I am not very well read or very knowledgeable in general (who is, in this economy) but it does mean that of the authors I do like, I can probably find the novel that'll work best for your taste.

If you want to come off anon, or I guess just leave another message, haha, (or if someone else wants to, idgaf, we're all friends here at tumblr user hazeism) describing the things you like or look for in a novel I can probably give you a more relevant recommendation. I've been dosing people up a lot lately tbh, it's like a parlor trick I've been doing; I have a conversation with someone and afterwards they'll have a PDF with a relevant Asimov story in their messages, hahaha. I can't help myself sometimes.

Come back anyway, though, if you read anything I talked about, okay? I want to hear about it 🥺

And alsooo (turning to face the audience) if anyone ever wants to put recs in my inbox (or my dms : ) slow replies though sorry I'm a hermit) I'd be happy to take 'em down. Can't guarantee I'll read them in a timely manner, or that you'll ever find out if/when I do, but it's good for me to leave my comfort zone.

[baladric]

What first got you into writing? How did you develop your style? And have you got any tips for other budding writers out there? Also who are your favourite authors and poets?

this got LONG but i'm going to tell myself you were ASKING FOR THAT and take a breath a;ldfkjwo;dfjsf

i can't remember if my inuyasha self-insert fic days predated my gaiaonline roleplaying days, but it was one of the two! definitely entirely a form of escape from a very painful and lonely life, but i think it was actually several years after i started definitionally Writing™ before i got into it, you know? i don't remember what kickstarted it, but somewhere along the way, i realized that i could really do whatever i wanted to, and i discovered figurative language and non-linear storytelling really went hogwild on some super niche death note fics ;alkfjwd and from there i started writing prose-poetry and really just. splashing around in there. i've been a musician my whole life, and it was like i'd realized that i could put music into the written word, like i wrote entirely for the way things tripped off my internal ear—like this one line from a poem i wrote when i was 14 still sticks with me, Leaves stain, leaves stains (rough obviously, but it was my first foray into writing about visual imagery that stuck in my sad little head)

my style started as its own nascent messy little thing, and like. man, people on here don't talk about Lolita because. you know. it's literally the apotheosis of the stuff that gets people wound-up in fandom spaces? literally a novel about SA and pedophilia and grooming—but the thing is, there's a reason it's considered a central part of the western literary canon, and that book revolutionized me as a writer. nabokov's entire thing really is just. ear-worms as text, like i cannot even express how often i still think "I am just winking happy thoughts into a little tiddle cup", or how many times i'll echolalia my way through this one line from the intro bit of the book: "Lo-Le-Ta: The tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth." take or leave the content of the book, nabokov does it like none other—or he did until ocean vuong published On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous, which is just. idk if you haven't read it, please please please, do yourself a favor and make space for it. it's the most effecting book i've ever read, as well as the most gorgeous and the most lovingly, grievingly composed.

You once told me that the human eye is god's loneliest creation. How so much of the world passes through the pupil and still it holds nothing. The eye, alone in its socket, doesn't even know there's another one, just like it, an inch away, just as hugry, as empty. Opening the front door to the first snowfall of my life, you whispered, "Look."

if i can ever write a single sentence that pins the wide universe and the complex sorrow and joy of the human experience in place the way ocean vuong does, i will die happy. honestly.

favorite authors/poets is in vein with that last bit, but the short list anyway:

ocean vuong, esp On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous (novel) and Time is a Mother (poetry)

maggie stiefvater, specifically The Raven Cycle—i could (and have) gone on for hours about the way she puts her readers into a tactile, vivid world, and her singular skill for spinning characters so contradictory and multifaceted that, to my mind, they're whole entire people, instead of the archetypes or loving stereotypes of most other fiction

richard siken, for Crush, which. i mean, i'm a gay man obsessed with words, this one really goes without saying lmao, if you read nothing else from it, read Snow and Dirty Rain. it is my gospel and my lifeblood, i have it memorized and still i reread it every week.

katherine addison taught me so much about storytelling, unreliable narrators, and the complexities of healing/trauma recovery while contending with rigid society (tragically pertinent to our present lives)—her Chronicles of Osreth (comprised of The Goblin Emperor, Witness for the Dead and The Grief of Stones)

maggie nelson, both for Bluets and The Argonauts

becky chambers—Psalm for the Wild-Built altered me as a person, it is gorgeous and soaring and humble and such a necessary book

donna tartt, obviously

anne carson, also obviously

freya marske—will read anything she ever writes, her language is lush, her worldbuilding is unique and spectacular, and her smut is HOT

alexandra rowland, for the same reasons as freya marske, but also their characters are so stunningly sympathetic, as well as really loving examples of neurodivergence in fiction (evemer hoşkadem, my deeply autistic beloved)

robin hobb really writes a toxic, complicated relationship saga like none other, i am stunningly enraged by Realm of the Edlerlings and also am physically incapable of not thinking about it constantly

and then there's the authors who taught me about magic: Garth Nix (The Old Kingdom Series), Holly Black (Modern Faerie Tales), Tamora Pierce (Protector of the Small), and Francesca Lia Block (Weetzie Bat)

writer tips!!!!!! this is hokey, but honestly my main advice is READ and also HAVE FUN. storytelling is the oldest human act, and language is the show where everything's made-up and the points don't matter. language is a sandbox, and it's there for you to literally just fuck around in. it can be whatever you want—it can be your raison d'être as a writer, but also it can be incidental. it can be a means to an end, economical, and some of the best stories are taken with that approach. but also you can paint with language, if you want to. you can compose music with it. you can do whatever suits your fancy.

my second tip is WORD COUNT DOESN'T MATTER. stop counting. stop stop stop holding yourself to the weird, quantity-obsessed writer culture. 2,000 words a day? nobody has time for that except full-time writers or those really rare writers who blink and 5k words fall onto the page. personally, if i'm sitting down to write and i'm really determined to actually get something onto the page, whether or not it's necessarily good, i'll force out 200 words. 200! i can't remember where i got this tip, but the point of that number is that 200 words is attainable even on the most blocked day, and by the time you hit your 200th word, you're gonna be in the middle of a sentence or a thought that you'll have to finish, and you end up with 300. or you hit 200 and you've broken through the fog and warmed up to it, and you leave with 700 or 1,500 (or a couple wild times for me, 5k).

my third tip: if you're a writer, EVERYTHING IS WRITING. this goes for art, music, literally any creative pursuit. walking out your door in the morning is writing, because you're learning things about the world, you're processing stimuli, your wheels are never not spinning. every video game you play, every show you watch, every fic you read is inherently a generative act, because that story is entering your store of knowledge to be processed and synthesized and lend you inspiration for the kinds of stories you want to tell, or the characters you want to make, or even the kinds of things you want to avoid as a creator. i can't tell you how much i've learned from games (Outer Wilds, i'm lookin at you!!) or tv (Station Eleven....) or music (Joanna Newsom really should be on my list of authors) or fanfiction (if you're a goblin emperor beastie and you haven't read celebros's Blackbird series, RUN, don't walk. i learned literally everything about creating character conflict within a framework of love that really motivates characters to work at it and not just get angry and walk away, and i remain uhhHHH fuckin Gobsmacked and reeling that she wants to write with ME a;lkdjfalw;dfs also literally one of my most formative collaborative and creative experiences came from reading kingdom hearts fanfiction in 2010, so) so!!!! just live your life!!! think about what makes you tick, what makes stories tick, think about the stars or birds or the history of glassblowing, whatever lights you up, and that energy will find its way into the things you make.

oh and also NEVER FEEL BAD FOR TAKING BREAKS. and i don't mean a 5-minute break, or a few days. i mean weeks. i mean months or years or what-have-you. sometimes it's just not there, and that's not a failing. your creations aren't content, they're little critters you make with love, and you can't love a thing you're banging your head against day and night. take breaks. allow yourself ebbs and flows in your creativity. everything hibernates, and i promise it'll wake up again and it'll be better than you left it.

end point: i Love You, and if you're writing or hoping to write or planning to write, i love your writing, too, nascent or tangible.

[scarletteflamerald]

taking an open tag from @fiercely-raging-writer for this writing either/or tag game :)

bold/highlight preference between two given options

historical or futuristic (starting out with a hard one huh? I see how it is) (also to be clear I am only talking about historical vs futuristic vibes here, I love historical fiction but I don't have the research chops to write it. yet.)

opening chapter or closing chapter (admittedly I rarely actually get to the closing chapter of a wip, but! setting things up is hard for me and tying them off is fun. mad respect for people who are the other way around though)

light and fluffy or dark and gritty

animal companion or found family (this one was HARD bc on one hand I love when in the absence of a loving family people create their own!! but on the other hand I love my dog <3 seriously though what it comes down to for me is that you can replace found family with deep and meaningful friendships and/or relationships with biological family. but there's nothing quite like an animal companion)

horror or romance

standalone or series (yes basically everything I write turns into a series bc I suffer from chronic Too Many Ideas syndrome, but I love love love books that stand on their own as a work of art, that introduce you to a whole world and by the last page have said everything they intend to say. maybe one day I'll even write one 🤞)

one project at a time or always juggling 2+ (lmao do you even have to ask? even if I only have one Project at a time I always have at least one short story or something on the side. tbh I'd be surprised to find someone who can honestly answer the former)

one award-winner or one bestseller

fantasy or sci-fi (sorry sci-fi, you are wonderful but fantasy is my first and truest love 💕)

character description or setting description

first draft or final draft

literary or "commercial" genre (had to look up what this means, and apparently the difference is that with commercial the main selling point is the story itself, while literary fiction focuses more on the craft of writing, so the selling point is the themes, beautiful prose, etc. idk if my writing is good enough to be considered "literary" yet but that's definitely what I aspire to)

love triangle in everything or no romantic arcs (although I think putting a love triangle in every single thing I write—in the background, not as a focal point—could be a fun challenge. I think there are interesting things you can do with a love triangle—"two boys fight over a girl" just isn't really one of them)

constant sandstorm or constant rainstorm (rain my beloved)

no-pressure tag for @avrablake @emelkae @talesofsorrowandofruin @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest and anyone else who wants to! just please tag me so I can see :)

[lov3nerdstuff]

Hi Kay!

I just wanted to take a moment and say how deeply moving (and overall comforting) I find your writing to be! I've gone through almost the entirety of your masterlist twice in the past month alone and have found myself returning more often to the pieces of literature/poems your reference sometimes. (Especially that one poem by Benedict Smith! I've read a few more by him because of you and they're just wonderfully lovely 💛 so I'm eternally thankful to you for including it.)

I may be wrong in assuming, but I believe you may have studied/are currently studying a degree involving literature. I hope this isn't too foreward of me but I was wandering if you have any other works of literature that you'd recommend? (I'd love to read anything you recommend from poems to plays 💛) I'm slightly embaressed to say but the works I've read are quite limited to a highschool level and since I'm currently studying Pharmacy, there are very few people who can recommend me such moving works. :)

I also feel like I should apologise for writing such a large ask, so please accept this apology as well hehe 💕🥺

Sincerely,

Bek 🌻

Hey there Bek 💚💕✨

First of all... I'm incredibly sorry for how long it took me to reply to this ask, I know you sent it weeks ago and I'm honestly just ashamed of myself for only replying now! I've been taking a bit of a Tumblr break again, or rather a break from literally everything, and I guess not having written anything in a while made me feel guilty whenever I opened Tumblr, so... All I can say for myself really is that I'm sorry you had to wait so long! Again, I never ever ignore anyone, I promise! It just sometimes takes a while for me to reply 😅🙈

Now, I'm so happy to hear that you've been enjoying my writing! 🥺🥰 Hearing that it's comforting and inspiring to you is honestly such a relief and indeed does make me happy more than I can say 💚 It's so cool that you're checking up on all the references I make aaahhh 🥺🥺🥺 I love it 😁 You're always more than welcome, love! I don't think I could stop including references to literature, culture, history and the science around it even if I tried 😅☺️

And yeah, I did study classics and newer literature as a minor for my undergrad degree 😄 But tbh I still work with literally a lot even now (I'm in grad school for media and cultural studies) even though it's technically not something I've been properly taught ☺️ I'm just a nerd who likes to learn on her own, and with media and culture you can pretty much delve into almost anything you want 😂😅🤷🏻‍♀️

Now, it's not forward at all to ask me for literature recommendations! 😁😃 I truly love recommending stuff!!! I have a few up my sleeve, even though you've probably heard of a few already, for obvious reasons: A lot of what I truly enjoyed reading was something Tom Hiddleston has worked on in one way or another! It's truly a magnificent guideline for picking new literature... Just look up the literary origins of his films/shows/plays and you will be in for quality literature most of the time! I don't think I've ever mentioned it on here, but me reading High-Rise (JG Ballard) because I heard Tom would be partaking in the film adaptation was actually what sparked my love and passion for literature!!! Yep, it's that good. Now on to the recommendations though 😁(This... got rather long):

Plays

Anything by Harold Pinter really, but for obvious reasons you'll find a lot of additionally fun stuff for Betrayal, which is lovely and truly funny if you're in on the kind of humour btw

Medea by Euripides (a classic, but I love it nonetheless... You can find translations in almost every language) ((and pls stay away from Seneca's Medea, because ugh... Euripides is far better AND the og story, as much as anyone can say that for Greek mythology)

La Bohème by Puccini (I know, this is technically an opera, but if you read the libretto it's honestly just like a play... And if you're up for it, the og story is in prose and written by Henri Murger... It's better than the opera, but oftentimes more difficult to find) ((this one is hilarious and basically explains an entire cultural subgroup in the 19th century)

Faust by Goethe (many people hate it, but I LOVE this one!!! It's also been translated into any and every language, and it's so interesting philosophically!!! It's also referenced SO freaking often literally everywhere, and the operas and ballets based on it are always my fave) ((there's technically Faust I and Faust II, but you're good to go just reading the first one)

Anything by Shakespeare, obviously... Though I do love me my Hamlet like every other literature enthusiast (Yes, I can do that one famous soliloquy in act 3 scene 1 by heart as well...)

Poetry

Again, anything Shakespeare for the win, but I LOVE the sonnets and keep a copy of them with me most of the time (Yes, I own multiple copies of the sonnets...) ((My faves are 116 and 91, but there's always so much truth to be found in there!!!))

A lot of the stuff William Blake wrote is amazing, though you have to pick carefully with him if certain religious motives aren't your thing... I love The Tyger, which is an individual poem, and the collection of works called Tyger, Tyger which does have many good ones and a few ones that are a little more on the mediocre side

Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas (I know this one by heart as well... It's beautiful, and there's a version of Hiddleston reading it on YouTube, which gives you even more goosebumps than the poem does anyway)

Invictus by William Ernest Henley (same for this one, also read by the one and only) ((I love to read this when I'm feeling down or powerless))

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot (This is another wow piece with many quotable lines and truths... I love it a lot and keep coming back to it! It's also a great example of how literary modernism tried to condense the complexity and passing of time and history into a single frame that had to be intrinsically poetical in nature... As in, this poem could've been a short story in any other period, but modernists loved to make everything a poem so here you go)

Der Zauberlehrling by Goethe (This one sucks in all English translations I’ve found, poetically speaking, but in German it’s such a fun piece! If you’ve ever seen the Disney ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’ with Mickey Mouse or listened to the orchestral piece by Paul Dukas, then this poem proves very useful in truly understanding either! But again, the English translation should only be taken for informational value... The German one is also worded hilariously)

Prose

Short edited by Alan Ziegler (This is a collection of short prose forms that honestly is a must for me... I love this book to pieces and have had it for years now! It’s an international anthology, so you’ll find more and less famous authors from all around the world represented with short stories, prose poems, short essays and just curious and interesting snippets of writing! I draw a lot of inspiration from this book)

High-Rise by JG Ballard (As mentioned above, I owe this book part of my personality... I don’t think I would be the same person without having read it. It’s not necessarily full of wisdom, but if you’re interested in a different kind of portrayal of the human condition, then this is the read you need to take a look at)

The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers (This is another piece that changed my perception of literature, even though this is a more ordinary and ‘fun’-value read... It’s one of my favourite books and it’s endlessly entertaining! So if the classics are a bit heavy for you, this one is perfect for casual readers as well! Its value really does lie more in the realisation of how fun literature can be, and the freedom you have as an author... So really, I could recommend everything by Moers, his style is amazing both in the German original and in the English translation. Yes, I’ve read both.)

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (This is comedic gold, stylistic gold and generally a bloody perfect book. Also a ‘fun’-value read, but it also does a magnificent job at showing you what you can do with literature, and how well-developed characters are supposed to be written)

The Penguin Book of the Undead (Penguin Classics) edited by Scott G. Bruce (This book is basically an education on fifteen hundred years of supernatural encounters and how culture wrote, used and perceived them. You get introductory texts for different periods and social groups, explaining how and why ghost stories were written and used, followed by passages of the prime source texts (eg. ancient necromancy shown on The Odyssey). Really, this book is just for cultural history nerds)

The Earthquake in Chile by Kleist (This isn’t necessarily one of my faves, but it has helped me understand what studying literature and culture can do for you. In case anyone remembers my insistence in Wicked Game that you gotta know what a pomegranate symbolises... this novella is such an instance where this knowledge would prove useful. Generally, it gives many opportunities to think about privilege and circumstance)

The Symposium by Plato (You’ll probably not want to read the entire collection of speeches tbh... But the concepts introduced mainly here and in some of Plato’s other work are well worth looking into! For example, the ‘double being’ introduces a concept that in modern fiction is called soulmates... Just sayin’)

[chudleycanonficfest]

Day 30, Post 1 by @blimeypeople

Hi! This is my first time writing a fiction story in English (I'm not a native english speaker) and it's unbetaed :(  If you have time to spot something wrong or if this story doesn't make any sense, just let me know, pretty please?

Thanks for hosting this fest. You're all so awesome!

---

Title: Don’t run, please.

Author: blimey,people

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Prompt: Parenthood

Rating: G

Hermione Granger-Weasley really thought her life was perfect, that she had achieved everything she wanted and made her heart happy: she had a husband who loved her, a job she enjoyed, saw her friends and family whenever she could (well Sunday lunches at The Burrow were an unwritten rule but she enjoyed them a lot), but then what was she doing running through the corridors of the Ministry of Magic? Hiding from her husband, that's what she was doing. She turned on the corner of one of the corridors, she was no longer running, but she was walking hurriedly heading in the direction of the main library of the Ministry, so big and wide that not only was it difficult to locate the books you needed, but also the people that were inside. The best hiding place, Hermione thought and quickened her pace when she saw him: Ron, standing in front of the large wooden doors, staring at his shoes in his scarlet Auror team uniform, which was somewhat wrinkled. Probably coming back from training, Hermione barely had time to think when she turned around running to the opposite side. They were quite far apart, so it wouldn’t be that easy for him to reach her but he was faster.

  "Hermione!" She heard him scream, but she couldn't stop, she was scared, she was afraid of having a conversation with him. She accelerated her escape as she felt his footsteps getting closer.

  "Hermione! Don't run, please! " She had heard that voice a few times. Her memories took her to a particular occasion, when she was also hiding, but from evil forces who wanted to end their lives and the life of their best friend. She couldn’t resist his voice, she had resisted it countless times while he asked her for forgiveness inside the horrendous tent. It hurt her soul, it hurt her not being able to hug him telling him how much she loved him, but her pride won. Only months later, she was able to achieve what her heart and mind most wanted: to reveal her feelings and be reciprocated. Now her heart and mind told her this was far more important, that this could perhaps destroy the relationship that with so much love, time and dedication they had built, this could possibly end one of their most cherished dreams, burst the bubble of joy and emotion that had appeared inside them almost three months ago. This could take away their most precious gift: their future child.

  So she stopped, took a deep breath, and waited for him to catch up with her. It didn't take many seconds when she felt his long fingers capture her left wrist leading her towards a deserted office.

  I should’ve flooed home, Hermione thought as she walked alongside Ron. He would have found me there in an instant though, I should’ve gone to..., she tried to complete the thought, when she was struck by doubt. Her choices were limited in terms of places where she could just go to think without being seen, without being interrupted, no questions being asked by anyone. Her childhood room in her parents' house might have been a great option, but now recently her parents had semi-retired from their jobs (occasionally they went to the office in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, at times they took turns and one of them stayed home while the other went to work), thus Hermione didn't know for sure when the house was thoroughly empty. Besides if they found her in her old room on a Friday lunch, at the time in which she should still be at the Ministry plus they were aware that, due to her almost obsession with completing every unfinished task at the end of the week, Fridays were her most complicated days at work, it would potentially lead them to ask her thousands of questions and if she chose to answer truthfully, as she had done since she met them again in Australia two months after the war, tired of hiding things from them. This time, though, she was certain they wouldn’t be as understanding as they were back then. Now the situation wasn't just about her, it involved someone more important and vulnerable, someone they hadn't met yet but they already loved.

  Her parents, Jean and Hugo, were over the moon since the day they learned about the arrival of their first grandson or granddaughter. The imminent growth of their little family filled them with infinite joy. On countless moments, mainly when Hermione and Ron would give them the news about the birth of a new child in the ever growing Weasley family, the faces of Jean and Hugo gave away what they wanted: they were dying to ask her when she and Ron would finally decide to have one of their own. Therefore they were ecstatic. The decision to adapt a room on the first floor as a playroom for their future grandson or granddaughter came easily. Well, we don’t need a library anymore, do we, Hugo?, said her mom. It took them a week to disappear the shelves loaded with books that were once part of the room. Toys, kids books, little stuffed animals, big stuffed animals, a white cot and the largest most colorful collection of clothes Hermione had ever seen overflowed the rather large space. Apparently, her mother considered it was better to have more variety than later needing a neon green footie embroidered with dinosaurs and not having it on hand. Her father, more serene and restrained, but just as enthusiastic, had bought a beautiful memoir book for the baby, where he himself would be in charge of writing down every detail of his or her first year of life. However, Hermione was sure something was wrong with her for she hadn't been able to share the same level of enthusiasm of her parents or her husband hence she just smiled everytime they mentioned the baby. Therefore, she was certain Jean and Hugo would probably agree with Ron on this issue. So now he was being proven right, they would help him convince her to "do the right thing for the baby." Except she honestly couldn’t discern what was right anymore so the confusion and fear consumed her. She loved her job, enjoyed the responsibilities that came with it, rejoiced in every new challenge she encountered no matter the outcome, she was sure of it. Her newly discovered feelings for the little human being growing inside of her were what confused and scared her at the same time.

  Ron guided her to an old and solitary chair within the rather desolated office gently helping her to sit on it. Rather than sitting beside Hermione, he stood in front of her and crouched down. He took one of her hands, placed it on top of her knee, gently stroking it.

  “Hermione, the evidence is overwhelming. If they were able to send an object specifically charmed to harm you into your office, it is because they aren’t our most common enemies. It means they are doing their homework figuring out your routines. They’ve been following you for at least a few weeks. They knew that only us usually go there so you would open the package without a second thought,” Ron couldn't control the tone of sadness, anger and despair as he spoke.

  Minutes before lunch, Hermione received a small package wrapped in a black paper with little stars, the wrapping of Hermione's new favorite bookstore in Muggle London. She frequently went there alone and sometimes Ron accompanied her. She ran to get it, unwrapping it in an instant. She didn’t even have time to see the title of the literary work, when the book came to life and suspended in the air began to hit her repeatedly, increasingly hard on the chest, arms, legs. Her wand was on the handbag she regularly took to lunch. The book kept hitting her, in one moment heading for her belly. Hermione started to scream, moving as far as she could from the object. In seconds, the auror who was stationed outside her office managed to undo the spell. It wasn’t the first threat, that's why the auror guarded her office. Whoever was behind it, had tried to harm her on previous occasions but they had never been so close to actually hurting her. The spell was very powerful, the package was able to pass the rigorous inspection of the experienced auror. A mother who genuinely loved her child would already be home, protecting him or her by being away from danger, the thought stunned her. She began to run through the corridors of the Ministry even when she heard the auror screaming for her to stop. She didn’t want to see anyone, especially Ron, who a week ago had almost begged her to stay home for a few days while they determined who was threatening her.

  “Harry and I are very close to identifying who is doing this, Hermione. We just need you to get away from danger a bit… ” Ron started, looking her straight in the eyes.

  “I don't want to quit my job, Ron, not after working so hard for many years. I'm nearly there with the house-elf protection law… "

  “I know about all the work you've done, Hermione. I would never ask you to do it, if it weren't for… "

  "The baby," Hermione completed looking down, "I understand Ron, but I honestly don't think it's necessary ..."

  "Not putting our child at risk is more than necessary, Hermione, it will only be a few months," Ron interrupted quickly.

  "Ron, I can't. So many magical creatures trust in me..."

  "They will continue to trust in you when you return," said Ron.

  "We said having a child wouldn't alter our lives, that I would continue working, you know I don’t want to be a stay at home mum." Hermione felt Ron's hand tighten on top of hers.

  "It's not that. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if the situation wasn't like this," argued Ron, "Tough I must say you were the one saying having a child wouldn't alter our lives. I think you were trying to convince yourself. For my part, I believe that many things are going to change, things we won’t be able to control."

  "Ron…"

  "I reckon you're getting scared ..." Ron continued coming closer and reaching her shoulders to hug her.

  "I'm not…" Hermione tried to interrupt and wriggle out of the hug. But he knew her better than anyone. Hermione was sure he had noticed her doubts, insecurities and fears even before her.

  "I am scared too, I'm not just talking about the threats, because I can assure you that we are going to find out who is behind everything and he’s going to pay for putting you through this," his voice was harsh and he had struggled not to shout during the last sentence. "I’m positive you're scared for him or her too," his voice had taken a delicate, sweet tone, the tone he used when they fought and he wanted her to understand he was right without making her feel too bad.

  "You are doubting yourself, asking that brilliant mind of yours a ton of questions, not finding answers. You’re wondering if you’re going to do a good job or if you will love him or her enough. The fact is, Hermione, the love you will feel towards our child will never be enough, it will be infinite", he raised one of his hands caressing her cheek, “It's not about doing a good or bad job, love. It's about doing the best we can in our own way, making mistakes and learning together, because you do realize we're in this together, right?” Ron delicately squeezed her cheek, Hermione looked up, her beautiful blue eyes pierced through her with the deepest love, he lowered his hand placing it on her still small belly, “He or she deserves the world, I assure you we will give it to him or her when the time comes. What we can do now is protect our little one, we are not going to let anything happen to him or her. Okay, we should definitely find out if it’s a boy or a girl, I'm getting tired of this”, he grinned.

  In that instant, Hermione felt within her how the little life Ron and she had created began to move and the most profound love, love she only felt for the man in front of her, completely invaded her. Ron gave no sign of feeling it, but it wasn't necessary. She placed her hand on top of Ron's, looked him straight in the eye, and nodded. He smiled at her, hugging her tightly.

  At this precise moment in her life, despite her insecurities about her ability to love and protect her unborn child, the certainty of knowing Ron never made vain promises began to fill her with strength and hope. If he firmly believed everything would be fine, it would be. If he was by her side on this adventure, there was no doubt the next few years would be different, challenging, but wonderfully incredible.

[chiyohsrifle]

Got tagged by the marvelous @hvnnigram and I can't wait to bare my soul to you guys. this is a long one, so let's go!!

Rules: Tag people you want to get to know better 🖤

Your name and then what you would've named yourself: My full name is Montserrat (I'm Mexican, in case you couldn't tell. Well Mexican-American but anywho) but I typically go by Montse. Mainly cuz people struggle to pronounce my full name hehe but I also just think it's less of a mouthful. Idk, I honestly really love my name and don't think I'd change it given the chance. Maybe something shorter just cuz paperwork can be a bitch. I like Rene but otherwise, I'm pretty attached to my name lol.

Astrological sign (sun/moon/rising if you know them): I'm a sun Pisces, a moon Aries, and a rising Virgo, I believe :)) All in all, I'm an emotional, empathetic bitch

When did you join Tumblr and why?: Was going through my emails yesterday and I've been here for a year?? apparently. So yea, I joined Aug./Nov. of 2019 and I'm almost certain it was cuz I wanted to see more Good Omens fanart lol. But I got more active this year cuz quarantine do be forcing me to have some wack coping mechanisms. Also BBC Merlin had me reeling and I needed somewhere to scream.

Top 5 fandoms: Hannibal (obviously), BBC Merlin, Killing Eve, Good Omens, and The Umbrella Academy 😊

Top 5 favorite films: (oh Lord, the cinema buff in me is Panicking rn) God, there's so many I love but I'll try to give varietyTM. But I'm a Cheerleader (1999), Parasite (2019), The Wind Rises (2013), Little Shop of Horrors (1986), and Hector and the Search for Happiness (2014).

Go to song when you wanna Feel something: if we're talking like emotionally charged, TALK ME DOWN by Troye Sivan always sends me reeling. Endorphins wise, Ahora Te Puedes Marchar by Luis Miguel always makes me wanna jump and move around. And La Vie Boheme from RENT, just pure serotonin

What's your religion or faith, if you have one?: I was raised with a heavy Catholic background but I'm agnostic, I believe is the term. Basically, I don't think there's not a God or higher power(s). I just don't align with anything specifically. But I do believe there's something running things, whether that be spirits, the stars, gods, etc. I can't say.

A song that makes you feel seen: Not to be a theatre kid on main but, Breathe from In The Heights. That song and whole musical hold such a special place in my heart, esp with Nina's character cuz I'm Nina. Every part of that song just Gets Me and i ugh, can't articulate it but yea, that song be me.

If you could pick a career: A writer or painter. Anything creative/artsy really cuz crafting is just so calming to me.

Do you have a type?: ngl, I'm kinda the 'falls in love with their best friend' stereotype but beyond that, not really. I kinda just see attractive people and mentally short circuit

What does your soul/heart yearn for?: Not to sound like a character from Hannibal, but to be understood. To be cared for and feel supported. To allow myself to rest and be comforted/loved. Just to feel safe ig. Whoop, that got personal, anywho

If you had to describe yourself in 5 words to someone who doesn’t know you: intelligent, caring, awkward, Very Queer, and chaotic

Favorite subject in school: English and History!! I think they're absolutely fascinating and I'm gay so obviously I connect way too much with literature

Where does your soul feel most at home at?: Close to someone that I love, in comfortable silence. Or any situation where I have wind blowing in my face, it's super comforting and idk why

Top 5 fictional characters: Rowena from SPN, Bella Crawford, Beverly Katz, Eve Polastri, and Jack Crawford

Top 3 moments in a show that made you ugly cry:

1. The ending of Your Lie In April. Idk if any of yall have experienced that, but let me know if you have cuz shared trauma. I was crying so hard, I couldn't breathe. Dry heaving and everything, it was Not Pretty

2. Like literally all of One Day At Time. I know, it's cheesy but that show means a lot to me and I get so emotional watching it cuz I connect to the characters so much. Anything with Elena makes me sob cuz like she's me but also my baby, ya know

3. Um Queer Eye in general but specifically the episode with the gay pastor. That hit close to home on so many levels and boy, was I sobbing the entire time.

(Before y'all ask, honorable mention to Mizumono, TWOTL, and the ending of BBC Merlin cuz I may have been too tired to cry, but trust me, I was emotionally wrecked after all three)

The earth, the sun, the moon, or the stars: Ooh, I'm gonna have to go with the stars but I love that lesbian space rock too

Favorite kind of weather: Thunderstorms, rain, cloudy, grey weather. Fall, I love the fall, give me autumn pleASE

Top 3 characters to kin you with: Guinevere Pendragon from BBC Merlin, Vanya Hargreeves from TUA, and Abigail Hobbs from Hannibal

Favorite medium of art: I love all art very much but I guess drawing and film especially

Introvert/Extrovert/Ambivert: Gonna say ambivert cuz I can be shy but buckle up, cuz the second I'm comfortable around you, it's absolute chaos. You will learn too much about me and that's okay 😌

Favorite literary quote: If poetry counts, it's something like "And if the devil was to ever see you, he'd kiss your eyes and repent". Idk who wrote it but it's an Arabic love poem. Actual book quote tho, "But I'm tired of coming out. All I ever do is come out. I try not to change, but I keep changing, in all these little ways." from Simon vs. The Homosapiens Agenda cuz damn me too.

Some of your favorite books: Simon vs. The Homosapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli, the Carry On series by Rainbow Rowell, When I Was Puerto Rican by Esmeralda Santiago, Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, All The Bright Places by Jennifer Lee, Autoboygraphy, and Copper Sun

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?: Europe or New York. No real specifics for Europe, defiently leaning more towards Western Europe and the Mediterranean cuz they just seem so pretty. And NY cuz I want a studio apartment hehe and also I adore NY. I went a couple years back and just fell in love. Although live is a loose term cuz I've always thought of moving around a lot. I like traveling and settling down isn't really convenient for that so these are kinda just ideals lol

If you could live in any time in history, when would it be?: Oh, defiently 60s/70s. Also, anytime matriarch societies were common cuz I wanna see what that looked like

If you could play any instrument masterfully, it would be: the acoustic guitar and piano. Maybe violin, but those two for sure

If you have one, which god or goddess do you feel more connected to?: I've always really vibed with Athena so her. But also Diyonuses cuz man's is the ideal.

And finally, your favorite recent selfie in your camera role:

(Excuse the eye bags and look in general, I was sleepy when I took it)

Whoo, that's all folks. I'm just gonna say that any of my followers/mutuals who want to do this, feel free to say I tagged you. Thanks for tag, once again, babe!!

[what-is-your-plan-today]

CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer

Ch4: Hit and Run Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: There’s another body, and it’s another familiar face. Some bitching and arguing and an accident. SHOCK!!!

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. Contains flash back which alludes to a sexual assault. Nothing graphic but avoid if this is a trigger.

Episode Pairings:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (she still hates him…)

Song for Episode:  Demons At The Door by Sleeping Wolf

A/N: This entire series contains dark humour (CSI + Brooklyn 99=CSI Steeb) Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes. You don’t need to have read the SSB series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this off from so somethings might puzzle a few of you if you ain’t, but feel free to ask.

Also, our knowledge of American Policing and Brooklyn is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments  

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List 

Main Masterlist 

"Of all the places in the world...." Steve groaned as they approached the murder scene.

It was a late July evening and the cool breeze that blew at the Ice Rink at 8 p.m. wasn't a good match for his short sleeved navy blue polo shirt. He didn’t like ice, either. But that was a whole different story. He shrugged on his denim jacket as he walked, giving a slight shiver.

"Hey, it's me who has issues with winter sports, not you. You love ice, Capsicle." Bucky said laughing at his own lame pun.

"Jerk" was the only thing Steve bothered to say to his friend.

They waved at Thor who, as per usual, was directing the police operative. The man was more rushed this time as the new body had appeared in a more popular with tourists spot at a busier time of the evening too.

The area had been secured but people still lingered in the area, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening and, if they were lucky enough, of the bulk under the sheet before they put it in a body bag.

Steve saw a pair of journalists trying to bargain some information out of the police officers who were trying to keep the curious onlookers at bay. He had seen them around other crime scenes and at a few press conferences he had attended over the last couple of years. It was a matter of seconds when another two or three more turned up.

As they approached the scene, they saw that Sam had arrived and was discussing some sort of procedure with Bruce who was crouched down by the body. Katie was busy inspecting the surroundings oblivious to the two men behind her and gave a start when Steve and Bucky greeted her.

"Hey" she said catching her breath and placing a hand on her chest. "You startled me."

"Sorry" Steve smiled. "How are you holding?"

She didn’t return his smile, instead she just gave a shrug.

"Reinforcements are here" Bucky said puffing his chest.

"God bless America" Katie scoffed. "Well, pretty much same crime scene only this one is frostier."

"You can say that again." muttered Bucky. Katie glared at him and ignoring his jab regarding the tension between her and Steve and continued her report on the scene.

"No bullet wound, so no casings. This is a promenade so no vehicle tracks, I was inspecting the area for footprints but there are no wet marks so the attacker wasn't on the ice. We need to see what Sam says about the body, but I presume from the lack of evidence of a vehicle, plus the fact it would be pretty hard to drive here anyway at this time of day without being seen, that the victim was attacked where he's lying, by the bench that faces the ice rink."

"Have you talked to the boys that found it?" Steve asked Katie while looking around searching for the kids who had spotted the body.

“Him.” she replied, not looking up

"It's a male?" Bucky asked Katie.

"Yes, the boys reported the body of a man who seemed to be dead by one of the benches in front of the rink." Katie said. "Well, according to Thor their exact words were “There's a dude here, he got smoked.”  Yeah, quite the literary talent." she added when Bucky chuckled at the boys’ use of slang. "Anyway, a police officer is with them, we’re waiting for their parents to show up and then we can drive them to the station to take their statements."

"Ok. Let's see what Sam and Bruce got." Steve said as he began to walk towards the scene, followed by Bucky and Katie who was now grabbing a mint from the packet that Bucky was holding out for her.

"Do we know anything about the victim?" Steve asked turning her head to Katie and then turned again to greet Sam.

"Nope. Not yet. Sam only told me there was no bullet wound, only what seemed...." Steve frowned and turned to ask Katie why she had stopped talking when he saw she had paused in her tracks and stood there frozen looking down at the body.

"Katie?" Bucky who had also stopped walking asked a worried look on his face.

She didn’t reply, merely stood there her eyes wide, a look of utter shock on her face.

"She's shaken. She's not hearing you." Steve told Bucky as he moved towards Katie, recognising the signs instantly. He’d seen it often enough "Can you please take the reins, while I... umm..?"

"Sure, pal. I've got this." he said before Steve could finish the question and turned to Sam and Bruce whose worried looks were focused now on the three of them rather than on the dead body on the floor.

"Hey. Are you ok? Katie? Look at me." Steve said quietly holding Katie's face between his hands.

She seemingly reacted to the human contact and the soft voice speaking to her. Her eyes fell on the ones before her and Steve saw those green orbs staring at his, struggling to focus, and once she did  she flinched from his touch and composed herself.

Steve swallowed hard and tried to hide his wounded pride as much as possible.

"Come here." he said as he took her arm gently and guided her to the spot where their cars were parked.

"Need anything? Water?" Steve offered patiently giving her time to adjust to reality.

"No, I'm fine thanks." she said and fell silent again looking past him towards the bulk on the ground beside the bench.

"Are you gonna tell me what that was about?" Steve asked tentatively.

Katie stood now leaning back against the left door of her car as Steve waiting patiently for an answer which he honestly wasn't sure he was going to get given how things were between the two of them. His fists clenched inside the pockets of his denim jacket fighting the urge to reach for Katie to comfort her but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead, he watched her carefully as she moved her eyes frantically between the crime scene and him, and closing them she whispered "I know him."

"You knew the victim?" he asked frowning.

She nodded and inhaled deeply before opening her eyes again and saying "Sitwell, Jasper Sitwell."

Steve looked at her intently trying to get more information from her, he couldn't recall where had he heard that name but it did sound familiar.

"Sitwell..." he repeated as if uttering that surname again would magically bring a memory back. "Katie, I don't..."

"Steve" she said her eyes on his "remember what happened with Rumlow?"

"Yes." he said the word nearly getting stuck in his throat. Now he was beginning to get worried.

"Sitwell was Rumlow's alibi when Peralta and I were digging into him. We had to drop the case because that bloodsucker stated they were together when it all happened." she rubbed her temples and laced a strand of hair behind her ear before continuing "Never believed him. We were forced to drop it. And then..." she choked on her words.

"Shhhh" Steve said gently reaching for her to calm her with a hug. But she raised her palms stopping him on the spot and he retreated hurt showing in his eyes as it was the second time in less than 5 minutes that she had rejected his touch.

"I'm fine." She said biting her lower lip and looking down to the ground "Or I will be... gotta get out of here Steve" she added before moving around the front part of her car.

"Are you sure you can drive?" Steve asked before she reached the driver's door. "Want me to take you?"

"No." she said too fast and sharp for Steve liking

"Let me call Tony... or Bucky could?" he tried again, worried she would be too upset to focus on the road.

"I'm fine, Steve. Just need a hot bath and to get some sleep." she said taking the car keys out of her jacket right pocket.

"Ok, well… be careful.” She nodded and went to open her door before Steve suddenly remembered something.

“Wait…” he said, and she turned to look at him "I've got something for you.”

He ran towards his car while Katie stood there by the open door of hers waiting for him with a frown.

"Here! My ma gave me this for you." he said handing her the slice of apple pie Mrs Rogers had sent with him.

"Does she know...?" she said taking the foil wrapped pie he was handing her, looking down at it as he handed it over.

"That you're back? Yes, told her earlier." Steve nodded pursing his lips at the memory of her mother's advice.

"Tell her thanks and I'll drop by when I can." she said smiling to him for the first time since she came back from DC.

Steve nodded and smiled back at her as she closed the door and started the car. He leant over the driver's window and said "Drive safe." before she pulled away. He sighed, hands on his hips, his never wavering gaze on the taillights of the blue Honda Civic as it drove away.

"What was that about?" Steve turned around to see a concerned Bucky.

"The victim was.... ummm.... Let's say he was an old acquaintance. Long story. Tell you about it later." Steve said and gestured to the crime scene before asking Bucky.

"Same scene?"

"Yeah, pretty much. This time there's apparently increased violence though. Two blows." Bucky answered.

"Cereal?"

"Yes. I would say it was Jump Start this time. God I hate that shitty generic brand stuff." Bucky scoffed while unlocking his phone.

Steve raised an eyebrow and was about to ask him what was the deal with him and cereals, but honestly he had too many things in his mind at the moment and Bucky's one of many quirks was the last thing in the list right now.

"Ok, get in the car. I sent Katie home, so it's you and me taking the statements of those kids tonight." Steve said walking to the car and opening the driver's door.

"You sent her home and she did as you told without putting up a fight? That's a first." Bucky grinned as he entered the car and sat on the passenger seat.

Steve only groaned and started the car and shook his head at the sight of Bucky devouring his slice of pie.

During the drive back to the station Steve filled Bucky in on everything. And by doing so he found himself catapulted back 5 years previously to one of the NYPD Charity Balls.

Steve could see Katie was excited for this one, it was her first formal event since moving from Uniform into the Detective branch little over 7 months previously after years of hard work on her part to get there. She was determined to make a name for herself, prove to people she wasn’t just Commander Howard Stark’s daughter. Of course Ward had let her down last minute, as per usual, but she wasn’t letting that dampen her spirits. He picked her up, and had to smile as she practically skipped down to his car, her deep red, knee length dress flared slightly out from her hips and she had a soft black shawl draped over her shoulders. She climbed into the passenger seat and gave his cheek a quick peck as he told her she looked stunning, as always. She beamed and then the car filled with her happy chatter, about how she was looking forward to letting her hair down, especially after the case that she had been working for weeks had collapsed.

Steve, as always, kept an eye on her all night, without being overbearing. If she wanted to get drunk to the point of puking then that was her prerogative, he’d simply be there to mop up just like he had done several times before. But then he was caught in a conversation with Thor, Terry Jefferson and Barton about the recent Super Bowl and as such he hadn’t seen her for a lost sight of her for a while. When he looked up to find her, as it was his round, he realised she was nowhere to be seen. After asking Natasha where she was, the red head had frowned saying she hadn’t seen her for a while either, so Steve had headed off to see if he could find out where she was.

And he found her.

“Katie…what the hell?” Steve looked at her as she was stood near the bathroom. She was pressed hard against the wall, almost like she was trying to sink into it. Her breathing was ragged and there were tears streaking her face and he noticed she was shaking from head to toe “Jesus Sweetheart what’s…” “I just...Stevie…I…” She was stumbling over her words as turned to him and practically threw herself into his arms. He frowned and pulled her close, rubbing her back softly as she trembled against him.

“You’re scaring me honey.” he said softly. He’d never seen her like this in the entire 5 years they had been friends. “What…”

“He…er…he was waiting and…”

“Ok, slow down…” he said gently, his hands sliding to her face. “Who?”

“Rumlow…”

Steve took a deep breath through his nose as he felt the nerve in his jaw twitch. “What did he do?”

“He….he was rambling on about the case and….”

“Katie…” he looked at her, his voice calm and commanding “Tell me, what did he do?”

“He said that if I told anyone no one would believe me anyway because of the rape case being dropped and…”

Steve felt cold all over as he looked at her. His thumbs gently skated over her cheek bones as she took a deep breath “Did he touch you? Because if he did I swear to God…”

“He put his hand up my skirt and…” “Mother fucker…” Steve said, one of his hands taking through his hair, the other slamming against the wall causing Katie to flinch “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know….”

With that he wheeled round, ignoring her calls and stormed towards the main door of the bar, yanking it open.

“Hey Rogers…” Peralta looked at him “You seen Katie? The boss is just about to…” “Where’s Rumlow?” Steve demanded, cutting him off.

Peralta’s face darkened “He just left…bastard had a nerve showing up anyway, I can’t believe…”

Steve didn’t wait to hear the rest, the red mist had descended and he had only one thing in mind. That fucking cunt should be banged up in a cell from what he had heard. Apparently he had a cast iron alibi from the rape, but both Katie and Peralta were 100% convinced he had done it. But the case had been dropped as the victim had decided not pursue and as such he was still wandering around the 99 free to do what he wanted.

And he’d just assaulted one of the most important people in Steve’s life.

He ran out of the bar and spotted Rumlow as he headed towards his car. Picking up a sprint, at the sound of his feet pounding on the tarmac, Rumlow turned round and Steve sent a punch straight into the bastards face, sending him sprawling over the bonnet of his car. Steve dragged him up off the bonnet with one hand fisting in the front of his shirt before delivering another punch again, feeling his nose crunch under his fist as the man dropped to the floor. He was just winding up to boot him hard in the ribs when someone grabbed him from behind.

“Cap…” He heard Barton speak, but Steve shrugged him off easily. He went to lead with his foot again, the only thing on his mind was beating the piece of shit until he couldn’t stand up, but when someone else grabbed him, the grip was much stronger, and he was dragged back by both arms.

“Rogers, leave it…come on man…” It was Terry Jefferson.

“Son of a bitch!” Steve yelled, attempting to work his way out of Terry’s grip but to no avail.

“Stevie…” another voice, this one quieter cut through the fog and he took a deep breath as Katie appeared in front of him, both hands on his chest “Stop…”

His chest heaving he took a deep breath and looked down at her as Rumlow gave a groan from the floor behind her. Clint bent down to see to him and Steve held his hands up in surrender. Terry let go and Steve looked at Katie, his hands once more holding her face, the knuckles of his right tender from the punches he had landed.

“You alright?” he asked softly and she nodded. Steve drew himself up and turned to Terry “He assaulted her…”

“What?” Terry frowned, and looked down to Rumlow. Upon hearing Steve’s words, Clint had turned to look up at them and Natasha moved forward, her hand falling to Katie’s shoulder. Katie gave a small nod, and took a deep breath as Natasha looked at her and Steve stepped away slightly, and noticing Katie was still shaking he shrugged off his jacket and dropped it lightly over her shoulders before he heard Terry barking instructions to Peralta to get a unit down to the bar.

Rumlow was now on his feet, and in a second Clint had his arm up his back, and had shoved him down on the bonnet of the car, Rumlow giving a yell.

“Move again and I’ll break it…” he snarled, giving it a harsh jerk.

“He attacked me…”

“Did he?” Peralta asked, his phone clutched to his ear as he looked around, “I didn’t see anything…”

“Me neither…” Terry spoke.

“Yeah, hi, this is Detective Jake Peralta, I need a unit…” Peralta spoke, walking a little way away from the group as Rumlow gave another yell as Clint yanked on his arm again

“Looks like you’re mistaken shit bag.”

“Doll…” Steve turned to Katie again, who was now leaning her head against Natasha’s shoulder clutching his leather jacket around her as the red head’s arm pulled her in. She looked up at him, her green eyes still sporting that petrified look. “You up to giving a statement?”

She glanced at him, then to Rumlow, and then drew herself tall “Yeah, he’s not getting away with it a second time.” “Only he did.” Steve spat out as he swung the car into the station parking lot “The Prosecution advised Katie that it would simply be her word against his. Rumlow was sticking to his story, saying Katie had led him outside on purpose and then got cold feet. And the previous accusation couldn’t be used as the previous victim had dropped all charges…” “What previous accusation?” Bucky asked.

“Rape.” Steve sighed “The victim saw Rumlow at the station and her reaction basically led Katie and Peralta to believe it was him. But before they could go any further, he had a cast iron alibi…and that was Sitwell, the guy we just saw with his head caved in and a mouth full of cereal”

“Fuck…” Bucky mumbled.

“Katie basically went through weeks of hell to in the end drop her case, which killed her. And her fucker of a boyfriend wasn’t much of a support either, simply telling her that she shouldn’t wear such “tight or revealing clothing” for fear of egging men on.” “Are you for real?” Bucky frowned.

“Yup. Trust me, it took everything I had not to kick the crap out of him for that.” Steve sighed, “Still, being Howard’s daughter had some perks. He went in all guns blazing when he learned about what happened and kicked up an absolute storm, threatening to go to the press and everything.  Pierce, in the end, instructed Rumlow to “resign”. Which is another thing that sticks in my throat. He should have been fired.”

“Instead he got to leave with the full benefits of a pension.” Bucky shook his head.

“Yeah, still, it meant he was away from Katie. Which was something she was thankful for.”

Bucky was silent for a moment as Steve cut the engine and ran his hand over his face. “You think his murder could be connected to the dropped rape case?”

Steve shrugged “I dunno. It could just be a coincidence but…” “I don’t believe in coincidences.” Bucky shook his head “Not when it comes to stuff like this.” “Me neither.” Steve said, undoing his belt. “Let’s get these statements taken.” “Aye, aye Captain.” Bucky said, saluting as he followed his friend out of the car.

*****

It was way past eleven the next morning when Bucky entered the kitchen of the station. He and Steve had been working late the previous night, taking statements and going over the case files again and again. The rest of the team had been working on other minor cases or doing paperwork waiting for them to arrive for briefing and were now taking a coffee break.

"Morning, Barnes." greeted Clint who was perched on the kitchen counter. "Fancy some coffee?"

"Yes, please. You really remind me of my ma's parakeet, always perched onto something." he said taking the coffee pot Clint was holding out for him as he opened one of the cupboards to get a mug.

"Tweet, tweet." Clint retorted and Natasha, who was filing her nails, scoffed.

Bucky spotted Katie engrossed on some files that were scattered over the kitchen table while sipping from her coffee mug and moved closer to her and leant over her.

"How you holding?" he whispered placing a kiss on her head.

She looked up at him and smiled softly for an only answer.

"Good." he whispered again and turned to the others to ask "Is there anything worth eating around here?"

"Here, have one." Wanda, who had been watching his interaction with Katie with a broad smile, offered him a box of doughnuts. But she slapped his hand when he was about to take a particular one.

"Not that one. Those are Steve's favourites!" she cried.

"Sorry." he said with a sarcastic tone as he raised an eyebrow at Clint and Natasha who were smiling at him knowingly. "God forgive me if I ate your Captain’s food." he continued while Wanda pulled a face.

It was at that moment that Katie sat up and gathered all her papers to head for her desk but she bumped into Thor at the kitchen's door.

"Greetings, little Stark" Thor said joyfully.

"Morning" she said flatly before heading out. Thor shrugged and moved to one of the cupboards.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked the others while rummaging inside the cupboard "Have we run out of pop tarts?" he groaned turning around.

"Take a doughnut, and watch your hand, picking one is like playing Russian roulette." Clint quipped and Wanda stuck her tongue out at him.

"She's been particularly snarky all morning." Natasha deadpanned looking intently at Bucky who sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Bitchy." Wanda added and Bucky shot a glare at her.

He was going to say something, not too compromising but enough to get them to leave her alone, when Steve appeared at the kitchen door and called "Everyone, briefing in five." before leaving again.

"Gotta go" Wanda said and before stepping outside the door she turned and added "Are we meeting for lunch?"

"Yes. Diner on the corner, just after briefing!" Natasha yelled for her to hear.

Steve was already sat in the briefing room checking his phone when Wanda came in and placed a coffee mug and a plate with two doughnuts with red, white and blue sprinkles on the table in front of him.

"Thanks" he said "Where is everyone? I told them five minutes."

"They're coming. Well, everyone bar Katie, I don't know where she is." she shrugged.

Steve raised her head to look at her and asked "What do you mean you don't know where she is?"

"She left the kitchen without bothering to look us in the face. Ask Barnes, they seem very close." and as she leant over his ear she whispered "I think they were having a moment back there."

Steve stiffened on his seat and gave an angry bite to one of the doughnuts avoiding saying something he could regret later on. He hadn't failed to notice how close the pair of detectives had become over the last week and it was something that was starting to piss him off. Would Bucky....? No, he wouldn't... He tried to shake those thoughts from his mind and was snapped back into reality by the voices of his team plus Bruce entering the briefing room.

"All right, let's start." Steve said when everyone had taken their seats, noticing Katie sliding in and taking up a seat further down the table. "Sam called. He's currently doing the second victim's autopsy and Tony is out of town working in another case, so Bruce here will do the honours." he said gesturing to the scientist.

Bruce cleared his throat and in a nervous tick he took off his glasses before speaking, "Well, regarding the first victim, we have concluded that the murder weapon could be a round, blunt hammer…"

"A chasing hammer." Thor nodded and everyone turned to look at him, questioningly. "What? I like hammers." he shrugged. "I was actually the hammer throwing champion in the school athletics team."

There was a pause everyone taking in what Thor had just revealed. Then Katie spoke turning to Bruce "But it wasn't a frenzied attack? A single blow?"

"Yeah, that is unlike the second victim, but we'll come to that later." Bruce confirmed.

Steve saw Katie shiver at the mention of the second victim and before he could even register what he was doing he asked her if she was ok to which she only nodded not taking her eyes from the table. He looked directly at Bruce, gesturing for him to continue, not able to deal with the glances he was sure Clint, Natasha and Wanda were sharing at his question to the sergeant.

"As you know we recovered some hairs from Ross trousers" Bruce resumed his report.

"Oh, well that's something." Bucky nodded. "A potential lead maybe?”

"Yeah, wouldn't bank on it." Bruce said "Initial tests show us it's not human."

"What do you mean it's not human?" Steve frowned.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" Bruce stuttered looking at Steve "Exactly what I just said. That hair is not from a human being. And it's not from the more common domestic animals either like dogs, cats, rabbits, horses... So Peter's on with it now, as soon as we get something we'll let you know."

"Ok, thanks Bruce." Steve said while everyone was lost on their thoughts trying to decipher what kind of animal Ross had been around.

"As for the second victim, we have confirmed his identity." Bruce said chewing one of the arms of his glasses "His name is Jasper Sitwell."

And at the mention of that name Steve saw Katie close her eyes and couldn't help but ask her again.

"You sure you're ok, sweetheart?" he had blurted the words out before he could stop himself and her head shot up and she gave him a filthy look.

"Stop asking me if I'm ok for fuck sake, Steve!" she raised her voice angrily "And DON’T call me that! I'm not your sweetheart, never have been."

Steve clenched his jaw and for a second closed his eyes. If he could have smacked the back of his own head right there and then, he would have. That was on him. Still, he needed to react, despite the grudge Katie was holding against him, they were in a briefing meeting and he was the Captain, being talked to like that was out of order. He looked at Katie and opened his mouth to tell her off, when Bucky shot a quick glance at him and then turned to Katie grabbing her arm.

"Stark. You're off the line. We're not discussing personal matters here." Bucky told her before leaning and whispering to her "Even if he is an asshole."

Steve watched her soften a bit under Bucky's call and then saw a glimpse of a smile on her face when he had whispered something to her. But that smile had faded when she had spotted Wanda shaking her head gazing at Katie reproachfully. That's when he decided to step up, but was again cut off.

"What's your problem?" Katie glared at Wanda while Bucky sat back in his chair and raised his hands in a sign of surrender.

"Katie...stop it!" Natasha tried to intercede also shooting daggers at her.

"That's enough!" Steve spoke up, his voice loud as he cut across the briefing room. "Sergeant Stark, you have any problems with your superiors just issue a complaint form."

"I'll issue a form, I'll shove it up your fucking ass. Fuck this..." Katie yelled at him before she stood up and stormed out of the briefing room.

Bucky stood up fast as lightning and went for the door hurriedly after saying "I've got her, just continue with the briefing."

Steve stood there frozen deciding whether to call the meeting off or get it over with once and for all, when he heard Clint say to Natasha "You should have gone after her." and she shot him a deathly glare.

"What a ..." Wanda started to say.

"I said enough, Wanda." Steve raised his voice and heard Bruce groan and he couldn't blame him, after all the scientist didn't like people with anger management issues.

"Sorry Banner, you were saying..." he said pinching the bridge of his nose and gesturing for him to continue.

"Ummm yes..." Bruce said scanning his notes " that is, I was saying the victim is Jasper Sitwell. Preliminary visual inspection at the crime scene says it was two blows on the head this time. Cereal in mouth as well. So we'd say same MO but we'll give you more details after Sam has finished with him."

"Thanks Banner" Steve said to Bruce who nodded shyly.

"Barton, Romanoff, I want you to investigate Jasper Sitwell. Use all your spy tricks, the guy must be someone relatively important, Sam said yesterday the tie he was wearing was expensive."

"What a pity" Natasha drawled.

"Well, he was a suit and tie kind of guy. We'll find something Cap." Clint said and Steve rolled his eyes at the detective's use of nickname.

"All right, I'll call Rhodes, same course of action with the press." Steve said now looking at Wanda who nodded.

"Wait, why was Little Stark so pissed?" Thor asked out of the blue and everyone turned to look at him astonished.

"What, were you napping?" Steve said and sighed “OK. You're dismissed, I can feel a headache brewing." and stood up to head for his office, but before that he heard Natasha say not as quietly as she intended "I can feel a storm brewing." and Wanda sniggered.

***** Bucky caught up with Katie as she stormed out of the main office and into the corridor.

“Doll face, just...” She wheeled round at him and he held his hands up “Ok, my bad…”

“Leave me alone…” she said, her voice quieter “I’ve had enough.”

“I can tell.” Bucky said “You made that perfectly clear.”

Katie sighed and folded her arms, her tongue poking into her cheek.

“I’m not defending him but maybe, just maybe, Steve’s a little concerned about you.”

“He’s no right to be.” “Maybe not, but you two were friends for a long time before it went sideways.” “Before he sent it sideways…” “Whatever, the point I’m trying to make is that was a slip of the tongue, that’s all.” “I am sick and tired of this.” She said, looking at him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the team being off with me.” “Well, you are kinda scary when you’re angry…and you always seem kinda angry so…” “And why do you think that is?” she asked “I didn’t ask for any of this Bucky… he was the one that pulled me back here I just…” “So, let’s just get the job done and then you can go back.” Bucky soothed. “Look, we’re going for lunch in a moment so this afternoon let’s just get our heads down and get our ideas up on the boards.” She frowned and then there was a look on her face as if she was understanding something. But what it was, he had no idea. Instead she shrugged and headed back into the office, ignoring everyone as she walked, in particular Wanda. Wanda followed her with her eyes, narrowing them slightly until she spotted Bucky watching. He gave her a look of his own and she scurried back to her desk.

“Right, lunch!” Thor clapped his hands. There were murmurs in the office and Bucky nodded, telling them to go ahead and he’d catch them up. He popped his head into Steve’s office.

“Punk, we’re going for lunch.” he said. Steve looked up “you coming?” “No I’m gonna go have half an hour in the gym.” Steve said. Bucky knew that was Steve’s way of working out some of his frustration so he didn’t argue.

“I’m assuming from the lack of a black eye you managed to calm Katie down.” Steve looked at him.

“In a fashion.” Bucky shrugged “I’ll feed her a double cheeseburger like you suggested, she’ll be fine. Just maybe stop with the pet names huh?”

Steve snorted “force of habit.” Bucky gave him a final nod and leaving his friend to it he headed after Natasha and caught the gang up as they walked the block or so down the road. They headed to a table in the corner and Bucky took a seat between Clint and Wanda, picking up the menu and giving it a glance. He looked up momentarily when Natasha spoke to the waitress who took their drinks order, saying she would come back and take the one for their food in a moment. They all began to discuss what they were having, Bucky deciding he would probably go for his usual, the Southern Fried Chicken sandwich. Putting the menu down he looked around the team, Natasha and Wanda leaning together pointing at something on the card before he realised they were one short.

“Hold up…” he frowned “Where’s Stark?”

At that Thor frowned and looked around, as if only just noticing she wasn’t there. Clint gave Natasha a look, one that clearly said ‘I told you so’ whilst Wanda looked down at her nails.

“Have you deliberately not invited her?” Bucky’s frown deepened as he began to realise what it was that Katie had understood before. She’d understood that she hadn’t been invited. 

Fuck.

“We’re just getting a little tired of her attitude.” Natasha sighed. “She was out of line at briefing before.”

“The way she speaks to Steve is disgusting. She’s being such a fucking bitch…” Wanda added. “Ok, that’s enough.” Bucky said sternly. “She’s got a lot going on. And Steve, well frankly, he isn’t innocent in all of this.”

“Oh please!” Wanda snorted “They fucked after a Christmas party and then she made a meal out of it, dramatically running away to DC…”

“That’s not…” Bucky sighed, shaking his head “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’ll take mine to go. Not having her sitting alone in the office, it’s cruel and frankly I expect more from you.”

Natasha frowned “Do you know something we don’t Serge?” 

“Ask her…or Captain Goldenboy.” he sighed, standing up. He headed over to the counter, ignoring the hushed whispers that had struck up and ordered his own, and then after a pause added a few extra items. He sat by the counter, faffing about on his phone until about 20 minutes later it was ready. Grabbing the bags he headed back, still feeling slightly pissed at the behaviour of the unit.

He headed up the elevator and into the office, crossing towards his desk. Katie was sat at hers, pen between her teeth and he could see she had been crying.

“Hey…”

“Thought you had all gone for lunch…” she said looking up at him and he could tell she was trying to keep her tone casual.

“Decided on take out…” He waved the bag and spotting the logo she smiled, a genuine smile at him and it lit her pretty face up. “Cheeseburger, chilli fries and a vanilla shake?” he asked as he began to unpack the items.

“Thanks Bucky.” she said softly, taking her food from him. He smiled at her again before he took one of the subs he had bought through along with a bag of chips and a soda to Steve’s office, dropping it all on his desk. He was just leaving when Steve walked back into the room, almost bumping into him.

“Thought you were going for lunch?” Steve said, brushing his damp hair back with his right hand.

“I was…” Bucky said, before he gestured to the door. Steve shut it and turned back to his friend “Until I got there and found out they’d deliberately excluded Katie.”

“What?” Steve frowned “Why?” “Sick of her attitude…apparently” Bucky said and Steve sighed.

“So you bailed?” “Yeah, not having her sitting here alone.”

Steve took a deep breath and rubbed at his temple. He looked at Bucky, opened his mouth and then shut it again, shaking his head.

“Spit it out…” Bucky said, looking at him.

“I err, well, there’s nothing going on between you and her is there?” Steve asked, his eyes locking onto Bucky’s.

“What the fuck?” Bucky scowled, an angry flush spreading up his neck to his cheeks “Because I bailed on lunch as she wasn’t there? I did that because it’s fucking cruel…”

“It’s not just the lunch…” Steve cut him off, his eyes still focussed on his “Wanda said she thought you two were having a moment before and I’ve seen the pair of you…” “Man you really are as stupid as you look…” Bucky snorted. “She looked lost this morning, so yeah, I gave her a bit of a hug and a kiss on the head but fuck me Steve…even if I did like her that way do you really think I’d go there knowing your history? You’re by best friend, it’s an unwritten rule…”

There was a silence in the office and Steve sighed, hanging his head.

“Sorry man, I know. I just…”

“Just nothing, get your head out of your ass.” Bucky snorted. “You need to watch Wanda, Steve. She’s got a thing for you and I get the impression she instigated leaving Katie off of the lunch invite. She was being particularly nasty about her this morning too before briefing.”

Steve gave a groan and shook his head “That’s all I need…”

“And as you keep saying, Katie is vicious so you could end up with a full scale bitch fight on your hands.”

“Do you think I should talk to Wanda?”

“To be honest I’m not sure whether that will help.” Bucky shrugged “I’m just telling you to be aware. You say Katie is strong but…well, there’s only so much anyone can take. She’s been crying, I can tell.” He looked at Steve who bit his lip and glanced out through the blinds to where Katie was sat, eating her lunch.

“You brought her lunch back?” Steve looked at him.

“Yeah, is that ok or does it mean we’re fucking?”

“Alright, I said I was sorry…”

“Good, because I got you a Pastrami and rye, extra pickle. And there’s no way I want to be romantically involved with your punk ass so…”

Steve glanced at the bag and when he turned back to look at Bucky, the sergeant was surprised at the look on Steve’s face. Almost like he was about to burst into tears. “Thanks Buck.”

“It’s only a sandwich.”

“No I mean for looking after her.” Steve said, giving him a significant look.

“You’re welcome pal, what can I say? I like your girl.” Steve sighed “She’s not my girl…” “Yeah, yeah…” Bucky said, and with that he turned and left the office.

***** Steve looked up as there was a knock on his open door. Katie stepped in, file in her hand and she strode to his desk, dropping it down.

“Initial profile.” she said, nodding to it “It’s only a basic one at the moment but I’ll keep working on it. I’ve given a copy to Barnes as well and run him through my initial thoughts.”

“You wanna give me the basics?” Steve asked, leaning back in his chair, gesturing for her to take the one on the opposite side of the desk.

“Not really but you’re the boss.” she said, remaining stood up, arms folded “I think we’re looking for a male. The MO doesn’t fit with a female as you know and the victims have all been struck at the back of the head at an angle that would insinuate the height of the attacker in Ross’ case was similar, or in Sitwell’s case taller. Ross is 6ft and the blows took significant strength. Of course it could be a tall, bodybuilding female but I doubt it.”

Steve nodded and waited for her to continue.

“Also the hammer blows…it’s a typical cave man move. A bang on the back of the head, like with a club. Most Male serial killers are known to hunt their victims like that, throw-back to the hunter gatherer days. Women serial killers will normally use poison or suffocation…or if they’re in a frenzy a sharp knife.” He smiled, he had almost forgotten how good she was at this.

“I also believe that the victims were known to our guy, and that they know him too. First off there’s little to no physical resemblance, apart from them being male. Which leads me to believe he is targeting them deliberately. The lack of other marks on the body means they’re not being manhandled out to the place their killed either, so I believe it to be prearranged. Oh, and on that Barnes has had tech start to look at their phone records…see if either of them had calls or messages before hand.” Steve nodded “And the calling card?” “I’m stumped.” Katie said, shrugging. “Literally. I can only, again, go back to what I said in DC. Normally leaving things in mouths is either a sexual thing, which in this case we can rule out as there’s no signs of any sexual activity taking place, or a class statement, you know the whole silver spoon trope. I can only conclude this is his message about how dangerous either an everyday object can be, or how dangerous he can be with an everyday object. It could mean something to the killer, but…”

She paused and then looked at Steve “I want to dig into Sitwell more.” Steve watched her as she continued and bit back the smile at the fact she was telling him what she was going to do rather than asking for permission, like she always had.  “I’m going to call back to the 99, drag the Rumlow case files out…see if there’s anything that can tie Sitwell to Ross or vice versa. I know Rumlow is doing a stretch inside but…” “Sure. I’ll call Holt and let him know.”

With that she gave him a curt nod and went to leave. 

“Katie.” he said gently and she turned to look at him.

“Just be careful”

She didn’t reply, simply gave him a cold look and left. He watched her head to her desk where she said something to Bucky who nodded to her as she picked up her hoody, purse and then the mug in her usual end of day routine- she would NEVER leave an unwashed mug on her desk, no matter what time she was leaving.

A few moments later Bucky popped his head in, telling Steve he was heading off and had a couple of things to do on his way home so he would be later back. By couple of things, Steve assumed he meant a dame so he simply nodded and then once his friend was gone he glanced at the file Katie had left him. Before he started looking at it in detail he needed another coffee. He left his office, heading for the kitchen and as he made his way down the corridor he paused as Natasha’s raised voice hit his ears.

“You know as well as anyone round here, Stark, we’re a family. We look out for one another…and we’re just tired of the way you keep snapping at Steve. It’s not fair…”

“Wait you think... “Katie snorted and let her a bitter laugh "You think that I'm being unreasonable?” "You’re being a bitch!” Nat scoffed

Katie let out another derisive snort “Whatever…” she replied sarcastically and Steve knew from her tone she would be rolling her eyes.

“Look, you slept together. Yeah, we figured as much, and then you ran…” “I ran?” Katie laughed bitterly “Oh, that’s fucking priceless that is! Of course he hasn’t told any of you, wouldn’t want to ruin his God’s Righteous Man reputation would he?” “What are you talking about?” Nat asked.

“I didn’t run anywhere, Nat, he did!” Katie said, her voice loud “After we spent the night together I woke up to find him gone. And then he ghosted me for 3 days.”

"Shit." Nat said gently, "Katie…honestly I had no idea…I knew you'd both...you know but we all just assumed you'd decided it was a mistake and…"

“I wasn’t the one that decided it was a mistake. He did. Nat, I practically begged him to give me a reason to stay but he wouldn't.”

There was a pause and Katie spoke again, and Steve could hear the emotion in her voice. “You know, he told me that he cared, that he’d had feelings for me for years but…then he goes and does this and…”

She trailed off and Steve swallowed, he hated that he had hurt her so much, but more so that he couldn’t do anything to make it right. "I'm so, so sorry." Nat spoke again, her voice soft “I wouldn’t have…well, leaving you off the lunch invite was cruel, I should have said something to Wanda.”

Again nothing. And then Steve heard a sniffle “Shit, Katie come here..." There was the rustling of clothing as he assumed the two women embraced.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” Nat asked.

“I don’t know I just...I suppose I thought by cutting myself off it would help but it didn’t. I’ve been so lonely…DC is great and the job is amazing but, well all my friends are here and…”

She was crying now and Steve’s heart sank even further. He’d done this to her.

“I’m sorry I ran out on you all like I did…and I should have talked to you I know. I missed you Nat.” “Yeah?” Steve heard the amusement in Nat’s voice.

“Of course I did.” Katie laughed a little “You were my best friend.” “No I wasn’t” Nat said softly.

“Well, my best girlfriend…” Katie replied.

"Have you told any of the 99 you're back in town?" Nat asked after a short pause. "No." "You should call Diaz. Us girls can go out, beers and a catch up."

"I'd like that. That is if Wanda hasn’t poisoned me before hand." Katie snorted. "Yeah well she’s sweet on Cap... you know that. " "She’s welcome to him. Let him give her the best fuck of her life and bail before the toast is ready." "The best fuck of your life?” Nat said, chuckling “That’s some claim.”

Katie gave a bitter laugh. "And don’t I wish it wasn't true."

“Well you know what they say…” Nat replied “The best way to get over a man is get under another one.” Steve didn’t want to hear anymore. He couldn’t. Frankly the thought of her with anyone else was enough to make him ill. He turned and strode back the way he had come and grabbed the files, shoving them into his laptop bag along with his tablet and his trusted leather bound notebook Katie had bought him the previous year. He’d do this at home, he didn’t want to be in the station anymore.

He was in a daze as he drove through the streets off Brooklyn, Katie’s voice ringing in his ears. "She’s welcome to him. Let him give her the best fuck of her life and bail before the toast is ready."  Her tone had been cold, callous, a far cry from the Katie he knew and loved.  A fuck. That’s all she believed she was, but it had never been about that, she meant far more to him. She always had. He couldn’t blame her for thinking that at all, but hearing her speak about him that way was tearing him in two, especially as he knew it was his fault.

Bucky was right, he should have left her well alone, got another profiler on the case. And it was for that reason he made a snap decision. He’d talk to her tomorrow, give her the opportunity to go back to DC.

He was that wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the car running the red light, as it hurtled towards him. The last thing he remembered was hearing the screeching of tyres and brakes, the sounding of a horn, and then the squealing and crunching of metal caused by a harsh impact to the driver’s side of his vehicle. He was thrown sideways, his car sent into a spin, his head snapping painfully to the side as it collided with the metal of his door column as it folded inwards.

And everything went black.  

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[rainandhotchocolate]

About Last Night - P2

A/N So i know I have a million other requests but I’m a sucker for this story sooooo here’s part 2222 lel enjoy!!

Mon 12:00pm

Sirius ~ So before I read the weekend news, should I be worried about seeing any murders I was supposed to be involved in? ~

Y/N ~ Don’t worry I planted your fingertips everywhere so they’ll know you were involved as well ~

Sirius ~ Oh thank god, I needed something to destroy my reputation ~

Y/N ~ And what reputation is that? ~

Sirius ~ Oh you know, cool edgy creative writing major with a soft side ™ ~

Y/N ~ Dear god you’re one of them :O ~

Sirius ~ Ur DiffEReNT thAN OthER giRlS ~

Y/N ~ **Blocked**

Sirius ~ I sincerely hope you know I was joking ~

Y/N ~ I guess I’ll have to find out :P What are you up to today? ~

Sirius ~ Well apart from giving my alibi to police, I have about 3 hours of classes today and an essay due ~

Y/N ~ Wow, that sounds like a super fun day – any good classes? ~

Sirius ~ Yeah I’m enjoying my lit class at the moment, we are doing genre fiction at the moment so looking into how writers create worlds, even within our own world, and why genre fiction is so looked down upon in literature society ~

~ and now that I’ve typed that out I am realising that it probably doesn’t sound wildly interesting ~

Y/N ~ Hahaha nah it does! That would be cool to learn about, I’m a sucker for genre fiction tbh, could never read the classics ~

Sirius ~ That just means you never found a good classic 😉 – What kinda stuff do you read? ~

Y/N ~ look I want no judgement here… I honestly mostly read fantasy/ sci-fi ~

Sirius ~ Have you read Dune?? ~

Y/N ~ Yes !!! Holy shit such a good series !! ~

Sirius ~ I’ve been trying to get my mates to read it for a LIFETIME its so good ~

Y/N ~ I would have thought Remus would have read them? He’s always got a new book with him ~

Sirius ~ I didn’t know you knew Remus as well? But yeah, he in theory would but he also has a long list of to reads and wants to go through them one after another ~

Y/N ~ Yeah, he studies with Lily a lot and I sometimes join them 😊. Also jesus that’s commitment, I’m usually picking up another book whilst I’m halfway through another ~

Sirius ~ I have no idea how he does it, if I’m being honest, if I hate a book I just don’t finish it (please don’t tell my literary friends I told you that, I would be killed in my sleep) ~

Y/N ~ Haha your secret is safe with me – imo I reckon that’s the best way to read, like why force yourself through something just because it’s a classic or whatever, I feel like that’s why so many people don’t read a lot you know? ~

Sirius ~ Completely! I actually just realised I have no idea what you study? ~

Y/N ~ Ahh that’s because I’ve been avoiding the question ~

Sirius ~ It can’t be worse than creative writing – I won’t even get a job after uni ~

Y/N ~ Oh believe me, it is. I study communications ~

Sirius ~ Oh dear lord you are every white girl who ever existed ~

Y/N ~ I know, I’m perpetuating the stereotype its very disappointing tbh ~

Sirius ~ So is that where you work then? ~

Y/N ~ Wow you remember a lot haha yeah, I’m doing an internship in social media management, it’s surprisingly soul-sucking ~

Sirius ~ Is that surprising… 😉 ~

Y/N ~ I mean, that was thinly veiled sarcasm haha but it’s actually not all bad, the strategy behind content etc is actually pretty interesting, and I’m working for an eco-friendly company so at least I get to come up with cool environmental memes ~

Sirius ~ Ahh yes, hit the youth with the memes ~

Y/N ~ See, you’re learning the comms ways already ~

 Thurs 11:28pm

Y/N ~ Whats ya facebook? ~

Sirius ~ Uhhh… Sirius Black? It’s not wildly hard to find, why? ~

Y/N ~ I’m gonna be real, I would like to stalk you ~

Sirius ~ Is this Y/N? ~

Y/N ~ :O ok you’ve known Y/N like 2 days how did you guess that ~

Sirius ~ Cause this message felt like one of those old school msn ‘my friend hacked me !!!’ ~

Y/N ~ You’re a smart boi, Black ~

Sirius ~ thank you kindly stranger ~

 Fri 6:45 am

Y/N ~ I AM SO SORRY ~

~ MARLENE STOLE MY PHONE ~

~ I PROMISE I’M NOT A STALKER ~

Sirius ~ Why on earth are you awake right now ~

Y/N ~ Because my body never allows me to sleep in ~

Sirius ~ how rude, also don’t worry I accepted your Facebook request so you can stalk all you want 😉 ~

Y/N ~ Literally am going to stab Marlene ~

Sirius ~ At least she’s up front ~

Y/N ~ Wait why are you awake rn? ~

Sirius ~ James wants to make the firsts soccer team at uni and has decided I must train with him ~

Y/N ~ Well that’s gross ~

Sirius ~ Couldn’t have said that better myself ~

Y/N ~ so what does this training consist of ~

Sirius ~ Mainly James trying to shoot balls at my head as I attempt to goal keep ~

Y/N ~ Can’t see that ending well ~

Sirius ~ Excuse you, I happen to be VERY athletic. I am a multisided human being thanks ~

Y/N ~ I am so sorry to have placed my predisposed ideas on you ☹ pls forgive ~

Sirius ~ I will have to think about it – right now James wanted me to do suicides and I must go into hiding ~

Y/N ~ Godspeed ~

Sun 2:58pm

Y/N ~ Ok I know I promised not to stalk, but what the fuck is going on in this picture ~

~ file ~

Sirius ~ oh no no no no no no no no ~

Y/N ~ ehheheheheheheheh ~

Sirius ~ I really thought my privacy settings were better than this ~

Y/N ~ Yeah this was very easy to find ~

Sirius ~ I’m going to kill James ~

Y/N ~ You can’t blame james for this beauty ~

Sirius ~ Oh I really can, he decided it would be hilarious for us to have a photoshoot when I was completely trashed one night. And then proceeded to post everything and tag me ~

Y/N ~ James sounds like a fun night out ~

Sirius ~ I wouldn’t say that to lily ~

Y/N ~ What she doesn’t know won’t kill her 😉 ~

Sirius ~ You are slyer than I thought ~

Y/N ~ I think I’m going to frame this photo and place it all over your uni ~

Sirius ~ You wouldn’t ~

Y/N ~ You may need to convince me otherwise ~

Sirius ~ Anything to avoid that embarrassment in my life ~

Y/N ~ Perhaps you’ll just have to owe me for sparing you ~

Sirius ~ I think that’s a fair deal – what about a coffee? ~

Y/N ~ I think a coffee or two would be a fair trade off :P ~

Sirius ~ Well I have the most disgusting week of midterms but perhaps on the weekend? ~

Y/N ~ Sounds LIT ~

Sirius ~ You’ve just made me regret inviting you anywhere ~

Y/N ~ That’s what I’m here for 😉 ~

 Wed 3:07pm

Sirius ~ Bit of a creepy question, but did I see you at uni today? Navy Skirt, Black Jumper, & tights?

Y/N ~ Wow you really observe an outfit don’t you ~

Sirius ~ I mean I noticed the outfit cause I thought it looked good and then I realised it was you and so it stuck in my head ~

~ in a less creepy way ~

~ in fact let me just completely start over – were you at uni today? I think I saw you! ~

Y/N ~ Maybe, what was I wearing? ~

Sirius ~ I hate you ~

Y/N ~ 😉 Well to answer your question, yes I was at uni – it was Lily and I’s weekly cheap lunch date ~

Sirius ~ Classy ladies you two are ~

Y/N ~ Couldn’t describe us better myself ~

Sirius ~ Oh by the way, are you going to Remus’ party this Friday? ~

Y/N ~ Mmmm I was thinking about it, why? ~

Sirius ~ No reason, I just knew Lily was invited and he mentioned inviting some of her friends ~

Y/N ~ Mmmm, yeah he told Lily to bring Marlene and me along, unsure though as Lily is particularly annoyed at James this week and he will of course be there and be annoying ~

Sirius ~ What if I can promise he won’t annoy her? ~

Y/N ~ I really don’t think you should make a promise you can’t keep :P ~

Sirius ~ Ah, you underestimate me! James has to go home this weekend to see his parents so he won’t actually be there ~

Y/N ~ This is a very interesting development – we may reconsider ~

Sirius ~ Well Remus does throw a great party ~

Y/N ~ DO you actually know what James did anyway? She usually likes to rant about it but she’s been shut in her room the past 2 days ~

Sirius ~ Honestly I’m not sure, James has been unprecedently quiet as well ~

Y/N ~ Hmmm how odd ~

Sirius ~ Indeed it is ~

 Friday 4:42pm

Y/N ~ What are you guys wearing tonight? ~

Marlene ~ Not sure, I’m torn between a velour tracksuit or the classic Canadian tuxedo ~

Lily ~ Both very classy options ~

Marlene ~ You know me, go hard or go hard ~

Y/N ~ You’re both incredibly unhelpful ~

Marlene ~ Worried about meeting a certain dark haired texter? ~

Y/N ~ Am I not allowed to want my best friends’ help on my outfits?? ~

Marlene ~ I mean I can’t help you look hot if I don’t know who its for 😉 ~

Lily ~ God forbid she looks hot for herself ~

Marlene ~ Hey, you’ve gotta play to your audience ~

Y/N ~ How would you even know what he likes ~

Lily ~ She stalked him around campus yesterday ~

Y/N ~ um MARLENE ~

Marlene ~ I just wanted to know his style, habits, if he was a psycho killer ~

Lily ~ She has a point, if he’s as annoying as James we have to protect you at all costs ~

Marlene ~ We need to make sure she isn’t sucked in by his serial killer prowess ~

Y/N ~ You’re making me sound like prey ~

Marlene ~ 😉 ~

Y/N ~ How did you even stalk him, Lily has no classes with him ~

Marlene ~ I have my ways ~

Lily ~ She flirted with the office assistant until she gave her Sirius’ schedule ~

Y/N ~ You minx ~

Marlene ~ No one can resist my charms ~

Lily ~ That is yet to be determined actually ~

Y/N ~ very true Lils, we’ve never met anyone you’ve dated yet ~

Marlene ~ Sooooo not the point, and we’ve gone off topic! How are you going to wow Mr Black ~

Y/N ~ That is 100% not what I asked ~

Lily ~ you may as well have ~

Y/N ~ You both suck ~

Lily ~ Wear that flowy black dress you refuse to ever wear!! ~

Marlene ~ YES YOU LOOK BANGING IN THAT ~

Y/N ~ ugh but it’s a casual party ~

Marlene ~ Who gives a shit, stand out ~

Lily ~ He’ll be drooling ~

Y/N ~ I don’t need him to drool I just want to make a good first impression ~

Marlene ~ Aha the truth finally comes out ~

Y/N ~ if you were actually in your dorm I’d be hitting the roof with a broomstick rn ~

Lily ~ Where are you?? ~

Marlene ~ Where do you think 😉 ~

Lily ~ Not the office assistant ~

Marlene ~ 😉 ~

Lily ~ How!? I was with you the whole time, you never exchanged numbers ~

Marlene ~ Exchanging numbers doesn’t have to be an oral task… unlike other things 😉 ~

Y/N ~ We get it, your sexual prowess is above all of us ~

Lily ~ I’m honestly impressed, she was cute ~

Marlene ~ I’m offended you’d be impressed tbh ~

Y/N ~ Ok so you are both coming over to my house in an hour to dress and intoxicate me ~

Lily ~ Deal ~

Marlene ~ Maybe give me an extra 30 mins 😊 ~

Taglist:  @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco @sly-vixen-up2nogood @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad @evyiione @minerva26love @aikeia @gollyderek @greatwombatblaze  @songforhema  @your-typical-giggle

[distrustedace]

“Apparently Virgil is a better actor than Roman. Who knew?”

AN: I want to make this into a series but its is going to be shorter then the Janus series. Also it might be a little messy since I am improvising the storyline. I hope this isn't a complete and utter disaster. 

“Apparently, Virgil is a better actor than Roman. Who knew?”

Roman found out that his newest lead is going to be a boy. And honestly, he was so excited! Finally, some gay representation in musicals. And this time, Roman knew it was going to be a totally new experience. Yes, the heathers will be girls as always, mostly because the heathers are too iconic to have a gender change. But, the newbie is going to play “Veronica” who’s name change is going to be Verona. Roman, on the other hand, is going to play JD. He wasn’t thrilled about playing a sociopathic kid with daddy issues but he got used to the fact that he had to play the villain. Besides, what's a story without the main antagonist?

Roman strode into the theatre to attend the rehearsals. He didn’t know who got casted for Verona since he missed the auditions for the other character , and completely forgot to check the list of people who got in. So on top of that, Roman was ready to be pleasantly surprised upon seeing his Co star. He suddenly heard a low tone speaking a line out of the musical , “and there is Heather Chandler, head cheerleader and main leader in the trio. And she is a mythic bitch.” Roman, upon hearing that line, immediately knew that his co-star is the greatest fit for Verona, he was instantly thrilled to be working with him. He looked up and saw.. Virgil?

“Wow, I never knew Virgil was the theatre kid.” Roman muttered. He was more than pleasantly surprised at Virgil’s acting skills. His tone of voice was authentic, he stayed on point, saying the words verbatim without the script and…. He looked the part. Especially the emotional aspect, Roman was excited to see that Virgil was better at conveying emotions then he is. It gives him some competition and a fresh new perspective in the world of acting. Roman smiled to himself, “Well, this is going to be a new experience.” He thought.

Virgil, actually felt like a human while playing the part of a fictional character. He wasn’t really antiquated with his emotions. Heck he doesn’t know how anger , fear, happiness or sadness felt like since he barely felt them. The only reason he got into theatre in the first place was because he seemed to only feel them, while playing a fictional character. He hoped to gain a full understanding of his emotions. Sure, he stopped acting by 7th grade in middle school, but he picked it up so he can have a “fun past time.” as his father put it. It was pleasantly enjoyable for him. But his main concern was if Roman would be willing to work with him. He knew that some of the rumors paint Roman to be a massive diva. Of course Virgil wasn’t sold on most of the rumors he heard of in his school, but it gives him small suspicion about Roman. He heard the door open and close and looked up to see Roman. Who was neatly dressed. He had his signature haircut which was combed to the right and gelled. He was always wearing a red jacket with a royal emblem on his chest. It indicated to him that Roman has already committed to pursue a degree in acting in the Chamberlin university, all the way in London , England.

“Ay, it's my greatest star, Roman. How was your day, busy?” the director said.

“Eh, not too busy. You know me, I always get my work done on time.” Roman responded. Virgil noticed the easy tone of his voice. He wondered if someday he can be as calm as Roman. But he was relieved that Roman might be open to working with Virgil. Virgil wanted to make sure he avoids any type of confrontation with his crew members. Infighting within a group can only lead to disaster.

I stepped up to the stage to finally talk to Virgil. “Hello, my name is Roman, and I will be playing the part of JD. Nice to meet you, Virgil, I have heard of you around school.” I said as I headed out.

Virgil gave me an firm hand shake before saying, “

It is nice to meet you too, Roman. I am relieved to have a kind person to be the lead of the show. I wonder, how did you  hear of me?” Virgil asked.

“Well, I guess you’re well known for your literary skills. Especially your narrative writing. I am quite impressed by your newest story.” I admitted.

“Oh, I didn’t peg you as the type to read stories like mine. Sometimes they can be too dark for a lot of people. Thank you for reading my stories.” He replied.

Virgil seemed monotonous, but I knew he meant well. I felt excited to work with him.

“Alright, so I assume that you already know the whole script. So, let's skip to rehearsing the “meant to be” number. I want to see how well you can convey Verona’s emotions.” I said

“All is forgiven baby! Come on get dressed. You’re my date to the pep rally  tonight!” I recited, with a low but slightly manic tone. As to establish JD’s mental state in the beginning of the song. I needed to convey that JD feels manic, and morbidly happy, but also had to mask his depressed and angry state.

“What! Why?” Virgil recited with a seemingly calm but anxious tone. That was really

Good considering his first line.

“Our classmates thought they were signing a petition! You gotta come out and see what

they really signed.” I recited, making sure to convey madness in the last part of the quote.

“You chucked me out like I was trash. For that you should be dead!” I sang, pausing a little before saying, “ but,but ,but!”

“Then it hit me like a flash. What if high school went away instead!”

I sang, making sure to enunciate the last sentence to seem like JD is slowly spiraling down to insanity. I remind myself to convey the song in a rebellious tone but to have undertones of morbidity.

“Those assholes are the key,” I belted out, before saying, “They’re keeping you away

from me.”

i announciated since the key words needed to be known to the audience. I wanted to show an obsessive side to JD. Since that is his main character trait.

“They made you blind, messed up your mind, but I can set you free!”

I sang out, I growled when I said  “messed” to show a small snippet of JD’s rage. As I did that, I made sure to build up the tone of the quote, starting from a normal tone, to an angry tone and then ending off with an easy, calm emotion. I also swiped my hand out while saying messed, to show how mad JD gets when he mentions what happened in the highschool .

“You left me and I fell apart for that you should be dead,”I said, while trying to convey a mix of sadness and anger. I hope I executed that correctly.

“I punched the wall instead, BAM BAM BAM!” I bellowed, wanting to show the pure anger dripping from JD’s quote.

“Then I found you fell apart, and set lose all  that truthful shit instead!”I sang out, while chuckling during the truthful part of the quote. I was taking a little artistic liberty with that. I wanted to show how JD is trying to put apart his anger with some humor.

“And so I built a bomb. Tonight,are school is vietnam.Lets guarantee they never see their senior prom.” I finally sang, I loved this quote since it gives me so many creative freedoms. I growled and sang a light but firm tone. After ending with a joyous high note. I noticed that virgil dropped at his knees, shakenly holding his torso with his right hand and covering his mouth with his left hand. Like he was stifling his sobs. I can hear his quiet whimpers. I almost faltered, I was convinced for a moment that Virgil was actually crying. I actually saw slight tears flowing from his eyes. That was an intense add on to the song.And it is magnificent.

“I was meant to be yours, We were meant to be one, Don’t give up on me now,Finish what we’ve begun, I was meant to be yours”

I sang the whole verse, doing the same thing as I did before but trying to improve the emotional appeal bit by bit to build up to the climax.

“We the students of westerburg high, will die!” *gasp!* “Our burnt bodies may finally get through, to you.” *oh-oh god!* “Your society churns out slaves and blanks, no thanks.” *whimper* “Signed the students of westerburg high. GOODBYE!” I ended with a manic tone. Virgil’s head snapped up while I said goodbye. His eyes were wide, his mouth was tightly frowning and tears were still flowing down his face. I instantly felt horrible after saying that. I know full well that this is just a simple rehearsal but, I am honestly worried for virgil. And if he gets me, worried for him. Then I know that I am dealing with serious competition.

After singing the next few verses I got ready to sing the climax to the song. I hope to god I get this right. One flaw of mine was expressing grief and anxiety. Something that can be Virgil’s biggest strength.

“Verona, open the, open the door please, Verona open the door!” I cautiously but anxiously said. I actually felt like trying to get Virgil to look at me.

“Verona can we not fight any more please, can we not fight any more!” I sang, making sure my voice wavered a little bit. I’m actually feeling apologetic. This is the first time I ever felt the way I am acting. I am both confused but excited to use this to my advantage.

“Verona sure you’re scared I’ve been there, I can set you free! Verona Don't make me come in there. I’m gonna count to three!

“One.”

“Two.”

“DAMMIT!”

I sang as I strided to virgil, getting desperate to see him.The music swelled and completely stopped. The bass played a hopeless tune, to convey the pure, raw emotion of my reaction to Verona’s dead body.

“Oh-Oh-” I immediately covered my mouth, vomiting almost lurching up my throat. Virgil’s body lay lifelessly against the wall. His arms were hanging out, his legs were strewn apart and his eyes… Oh god his eyes…  It was blank, it looked lifeless. He didn’t even close them! How- is he fucking ok?!

“P-please don’t leave me alone,” I whimpered out, somewhat crying at Virgil’s parasuicide, “You were all I could trust,”I desperately and depressingly sang out. I feel like my soulmate died. Holy shit.

“I can’t do this alone,” I sang out, building my tone up to the eventual climax.

“STILL I’LL WILL IF I MUST!”  I belted out. I was beyond furious. Emotions were spewing out as my expression morphed into someone that is wordlessly screaming. But thank god I still kept the volume at a normal tone.

The music stopped and my heart was still beating. My chest was puffing in and out as I struggled to come down from my newly found emotions. Virgil stood up and I heard his footsteps stride to me.

“R-Roman, are you ok? You were more intense than usual. Is there anything I can-” Virigil worried before I tackled him into a crushing hug. He staggered back for a bit. His arms falling limply. I took a deep breath, smelling the hood of his jacket. I was desperately making sure that Virgil was actually ok. That he was living. That he was breathing.

“Vi-virgil. Are you unharmed?” I meekly asked.

“R-roman I am completely alright. Did I trigger you?” Virgil assured me.

“N-no, it's just that… you were too believable. I just- for some reason I can’t stand the

sight of you dead.” I breathed out.

Virgil lifted his right arm and awkwardly patted my back. But it gave me comfort.

“It's alright Roman, the song was intense and I bet you were tired for today.Lets just get you to the seat and I will get you something to snack on. You did an exemplary job.” Virgil assured me.

While I was making my way to the seat I realized that my emotions are not a product of stress or burnout.

I think I fell for Virgil.

[lemon-writings]

Hamish Update: Hamish Pt. II

Genre: Adult literary fiction // Status: Rewriting // Progress: 53,548 words

Pt. I

I’m back with chapters IV-VI! Hoo boy, is it an event.

Chapter IV

Epitaph: “The things that go unsaid are often the things that eat at you--whether because you didn't get to have your say, or because the other person never got to hear you and really wanted to.”-Celeste Ng, Everything I Never Told You

This is the chapter where we meet Ofelia! She is one of my favorite characters to write for. She is beautiful and wonderful and a goddess and I adore her. (I’m reading myself for filth through the character of Ofelia because she is literally both my type and the woman I’ve always wanted to be.) Ofelia is the Queen of Roasts.

There are also some confrontations between Hamish and his mother, which I live for.

Excerpts: 

First of all, I love Ofelia. Ofelia Bello, if you are free this Thursday, I’m free to hang out any time. Again, Ofelia Bello, if you are on Thursday, I’m free to hang out. Please.

She’s a goddess. Literal goddess.

She looked at me, eyes large and all-seeing, more like fire opals set into the bronze of her face than eyes. I felt as though she were seeing into the very essence of my being, judging me like a god. Ofelia was one of those people who would never be referred to as mortal. She was Prithvi; she was Freyja; she was Persephone. She was anything but mortal, made of fire, flowers, and knowledge.

And a savage. She’s That Bitch every moment of every day, even when she has her “perfect daughter and sister” persona on. And when she doesn’t? Well...

“You could fight back,” she said. “You could make yourself known, reveal who and what you are. Scream, I’m a person, not a thing.” Ofelia fixes the wisps of hair arranged around her face into a perfect frame. 

“I’m not a fighter,” I said.

“No,” Ofelia said, watching me carefully. “You’re a runner.” She uncrossed her legs and stretched them out. “He doesn’t like fighters. That’s me. That’s my brother. He loves runners. If you can confront your issues, you won’t stay for long.”

Hamish confronting his mother when she dismisses his childhood trauma is honestly *chef’s kiss*. Writing my characters being savages is one of my favorite things to do, right after dramatic, floral descriptions of women. 

(TW: referenced child abuse!)

“Ungrateful for what? My nightmares? My feelings of abandonment? My hatred of authority? Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me, mother. Without yours and father’s amazing parenting, I would’ve grown up to be a well-adjusted adult.”

And the trademark Soft Moment of the chapter. 

(TW: death mention!)

“Don’t die,” you whispered, hot and damp against my face. “Please don’t die.”

“I won’t,” I promised you, so open and honest it felt like I’d cracked open my ribs to expose my child’s-heart to you like a blossoming flower. 

The tension between all the characters has increased so much in this chapter and tbh the anticipation is killing me, and I know what happens in this book.

Chapter V

Epitaph: “At parties I point to my body and say This is where love comes to die. Welcome, come in, make yourself at home. Everyone laughs, they think I’m joking.”--Warsan Shire, “The House”

This chapter begins with Hamish and Horacio in an interview about their “relationship”. There’s something lovely about the way that Horacio and Hamish talk about each other, even if it is built on half-truths. Then we’re introduced to Leon, Ofelia’s brother, and oh boy. Oh boy. Is that a wild ride.

This is also the chapter where Hamish begins planning how he’s going to get Claude to confess to the murder, via a PowerPoint presentation. Yes. Yes, good.

Excerpts:

The first is when Horacio is asked when he knew he was in love with Hamish. It’s just... soft. As a former theatre kid, this really is the dream.

“No,” I said, tearing my eyes from you. “We were in Theatre 101 together, and he was reading Doctor Faustus and playing all the parts. He was jumping around and doing different voices, being really dramatic and having the time of his life. It was the first time I’d seen him act young instead of like a wistful old man.”

I didn’t tell her that you’d been wearing a black hoodie with the moon phases printed on it, the strings following you as you leaped from place to place, sticking your tongue out when you fumbled a line, your tongue stud glittering in the lights. It felt too intimate to share with the world. When I saw you in the lights, being a goofy young man for even just a moment, in your purest state of adorable in your glee, my heart expanded well past the confines of my too-tight ribcage.

Here’s Horacio’s mention of his past ex-boyfriends, because he can hardly believe that he is in a semi-functional relationship with anyone, even if it’s fake.

(TW: sex and abuse!)

It was simple symbiosis: I was a parasite, and they were the hosts, defending themselves against me with violence. I don’t think any of them ever loved me, just loved using me while I would use them, trying to nibble on their scraps of affection between beatings and the rough sex.

Leon is... a lot. He’s sort of obsessed with masculinity, like someone who watched Fight Club without really realizing it’s meant to be satire and wants to punch whoever talks shit about him.

Leon was one of those guys who either believed he was better than you or you weren’t worth his time. Sometimes, in his more complex moments, he would believe both at once; at his most simplistic, he would believe neither. 

The further I go in this work, the more difficult it gets to pick excerpts!

Chapter VI

Epitaph: “Even still, we run. We have not reached our average of 57.92 years without knowing that you run through it, and it hurts and you run through it some more, and if it hurts worse, you run through it even more, and when you finish, you will have broken through. In the end, when you are done, and stretching, and your heartbeat slows, and your sweat dries, if you've run through the hard part, you will remember no pain.”--Lauren Groff, The Monsters of Templeton

Hamish gives the presentation. It goes about as well as you can assume. Now that Genoveva and Claude know he’s onto them... it’s game time. There is so much plot that happens in this chapter that I can’t really mention much of it, other than this being the point where the work goes from a slow-building horror to more of a thriller. It’s a major turning point and climax. Whoo!

Also, Ofelia and Horacio bond, which is awesome! I love the dynamic between them. They have the sort of friendship where you can tell that they really enjoy each other and their company.

Excerpts:

Most of these are from the portion where Ofelia and Horacio are talking in the woods because 1.) it’s the least-spoilery part of this chapter and 2.) their friendship is one of the most light-hearted parts of this work. Please, allow me to indulge.

Ofelia isn’t necessarily a “bean”, but she’s still babey. I adore her.

Ofelia gave me a mysterious look, full of night sky and brilliance, then added a crescent of a smile. She began climbing, one foot and then the other, effortlessly lifting herself up the branches as if she was built to do nothing but ascend trees, her tights protecting her modesty from me as I struggled up after her, unused to the climb. 

And then Ofelia describes a dream of mine every wlw: going a group of young women and becoming the modern Sappho. 

“I think I’ll buy a house somewhere by the ocean. Live with a group of girls who love books and pictures. Become my own Sappho, create my own Lesbos.” 

Then there’s this astute observation from Horacio about how Hamish views himself. Hamish doesn’t have a very good self-image. At all. Then again, neither does Horacio. 

You’d make yourself into an object sometimes, a cyclone of emotions and pain, held together by frozen flesh and string. 

So that just about wraps up these chapters. IV-VI really is the most intense part of this work, and writing it is is just as intense as the chapters themselves. 

Songs:

The music is mostly what I’ve been listening to while editing this post, since I already wrote these chapters, but they’re still jams

Your Love (Deja Vu) - Glass Animals

In the Heat of the Moment - Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds

Blood In the Cut - Seattle Sessions - K.Flay

Peach Scone - Hobo Johnson

That’s all for now! Part III will contain the falling action/the part where it gets Real.

Tell me if you’d like to be added to the tag list! :)

[marissabonifay]

 The Greeting

Hello, everyone, my name is Jon Dottingly. Welcome to one of the most memorable podcasts that you will ever hear. During this episode, and the many others that will follow, it will be my honor to tell you a story the likes of which you have never experienced.

This story has all that we have come to expect in a great tale: There are heroes and heroines whose courageous deeds will leave you breathless. There are villains most foul. There is love, and there is lust. There is hate. There is jealousy. And all of it takes place in exotic locations that will leave the reader filled with awe and wonder.

But, what makes this story truly unique is the magical way in which it has come to its teller. I, Jon Dottingly, am the writer of this tale, and I can honestly say that it has changed me, and all for the better. And, it’s my sincere wish that its magic will change your life as well.

First of all, let me say that as an experienced author of novels, I have created many characters for many types of stories. Some of these stories have been memorable, some not so much. While composing these tales, I have concocted plot twists to perplex the mind, and I’ve dreamt up interesting places for all of the drama to occur. In so doing, I can say that I’ve met with a modest amount of success through the years.

    And, I’ve always tried to make my next story better than the last. All my life, I have been striving to unearth that one prized work - some magnum opus that would put the name of Jon Dottingly in lights and bring him just financial rewards for having lived a life dedicated to artistic as well as literary excellence.

Naturally, such a profound story would need to showcase a most memorable character, one who will keep readers turning the pages of a work, one after another, after another, after another. I have longed to create such a character since the day I first put pen to paper.

In my most recent book, I thought I had managed to do that very thing in Marissa Bonifay, a young witch who hails from a fictional realm known as the Kingdom of Malakanth. This land is located on a planet far from Earth, somewhere on the other side of the cosmos.

In Malakanth, magic reigns. In addition to witches, there are wizards, and prophets, and priestesses, and demons within its domain. There is religious intrigue as well as class and social struggles that have endured for millennia. And, right at the center of it all, stands my fictional character – Marissa Bonifay.

But, as it turns out, Marissa Bonifay isn’t fictional at all. Nor are the wizards and prophets who inhabit her homeland. Nor are the events of her story.

As I had worked to pen what I had thought to be a piece of fiction gloriously concocted on my part, what I was, in fact, doing was documenting the early years of a real life woman who had come of age on a planet in some distant corner of the universe. In short, Marissa the witch had bestowed this story upon my consciousness by means of her magic and sorcery.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Jon, you are stark raving mad if you think some witch from across the cosmos is using you as a medium for some mysterious literary purpose.”

And, given the audacity of my claim, I would gladly accept this argument if I had been led to believe that Marissa was still in Malakanth - this land of witches, and wizards, and demons. But she’s not in Malakanth. She’s here, on Earth, among us, even now as I speak these words and as you are listening to them. I know this to be true because I have met her. Allow me to explain.

I had just finished what I had assumed to be the first installment of this saga, and I needed a title for it as well as one for the series itself. So, I did what I always do whenever I need to get away and spend some time deep in thought: I went to Starbucks. Maybe that sounds a bit cliché, but coffee shops are where I do my absolute best thinking.

So, there I was, sitting at one of their little tables with a pencil in hand and a notepad in front of me. And, thankfully, over the course of only a single chocolate chai, I had my title. I would call the first installment of my masterpiece “Slices of Midnight”. As for the overall series, I would go with “The Black Craft Saga”. Catchy, eh?

Pleased with myself, I reached down to retrieve my backpack from the floor in preparation of leaving, when, to my utter amazement, I looked up to behold the heroine of my story sitting across the table from me. It was Marissa Bonifay, in the flesh.

I recognized her immediately from my mind’s eye, even though she was dressed as any typical American would be on a typical American morning, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, as well as a pair of sunglasses that were perched atop her head. She even had a piping hot Starbucks latte in hand.

I’ll never forget that moment.

I was speechless, and I must have appeared as dumbfounded as I felt, because Marissa’s lips curled up in the same wry grin that I had envisioned so many times in my mind, and she said, “So, Jon, I hear you have a story to tell.”

I nearly fell out of my chair. Then, I went from being a speechless idiot to being a babbling fool, trying to say a thousand words at once. My mind was filled with marvel. So many questions were running through my mind. Finally, I settled on just one.

“Is your name Marissa Bonifay?” I asked.

“It is,” she replied. “And your name is Jon Dottingly. It’s good to finally meet you, Jon.”

Then, she proceeded to allay my fears. First and foremost, she assured me that I was not going insane. Second, she assured me that she was not going to do me any harm. After all, I knew she was a burgeoning witch from what I had written about her. But, Marissa told me that she was there for my benefit. In fact, she said that she had come to Earth for the benefit of all mankind.

Upon hearing these intentions, I noticed the first discrepancy in the woman before me and the young Marissa Bonifay with whom I became acquainted from the story. And it had to do with her personality rather than her adult appearance. This Marissa possessed benevolence that her teenage counterpart had not. She was wise and kind, whereas the Marissa from the story was bold and brash, while at the same time being utterly brilliant, flaunting her intelligence at every turn.

Amazingly, the Marissa before me there inside Starbucks      could sense my contemplations regarding these disparities, even as I was thinking on them. She was quick to own every one of her youthful misdeeds, and she was quick to downplay every act that one might consider to be brave or honorable, just as any truly humble person would.        

Over the course of an hour, she recounted the entire story that I had written about her. In this retelling, there were no discrepancies whatsoever. Everything was exactly as I had envisioned it. For this, Marissa did take full credit. She said she had bestowed this story upon me and that I was to share it with the world, and as soon as possible. Honestly, it didn’t seem like I was going to have any say in the matter.

She expressed to me the importance of this story, and how all my efforts would not be some ploy for her to gain glory or fame.

Prophecy, as it turns out, is at work here on Earth, and this prophecy has its roots based in the saga that I have been working on. Marissa has devoted her life to protecting this prophecy, so that it can unfurl for the benefit of all of creation. I will have a part to play in how this occurs, as will you, the listeners of this podcast, as I hope you will come to realize.

As you might expect, I walked away from Starbucks that day filled with wonder. I was in a daze from it all. In the span of an hour or so my world changed forever, for Marissa Bonifay had stepped into my life.

During our meeting, she told me precisely what I was to do with the first portion of this story that I had written. I wouldn’t be talking to my literary agent about it, as I had planned. Nor would I be contacting any publishers. I would be distributing the story as a series of e-books through channels that anyone with an internet connection can access.  

In addition, I was told to create a website to promote the saga, as well as a podcast. The episode you are listening to at this moment has its origins in that Starbucks on that fateful morning.

So, after all that I have told you, my prized story is no longer my story. To be honest, this thought didn’t dawn on me until the next day. But I have certainly thought about it many times since. The Kingdom of Malakanth and its magic no longer symbolize the pinnacle of my creativity. And Marissa Bonifay is no longer my prized character. I have become a conduit of sorts, a means by which this woman will convey her story to the people of Earth by one of our planet’s own.

Am I disappointed by this? Not at all. This story is far bigger than me. And, from what I’m learning, it’s far bigger than even Marissa Bonifay. If all the work I have done in my life to become the best writer I can possibly be has prepared me to document these events and nothing else, then so be it. I can think of no greater honor than to wield the pen for this …story, …this cause, …this prophecy.

Now, I hope you are wondering how you can obtain a copy of this story that I’ve been telling you about. As I mentioned earlier, the first installment of this saga is entitled “Slices of Midnight”, and you can find it at any of your favorite ebook outlets. The cost is 1.99 in U.S. dollars. I had decided to offer it for free, but Marissa would not allow it. Preparing this saga will take a great deal of time, she told me, and I should receive compensation for my efforts. I was in no position to argue, so $1.99 it is.

Alright, with that having been said, we have come to the end of this inaugural episode of Wisdom Rising, the official podcast of Marissa Bonifay and the Black Craft Saga. Thank you for listening, and I hope you join me next time, when I plan to go into much greater detail about Marissa Bonifay, her life, and her mission on our planet. Just how long has this witch been living on Earth? The answer will astound you, so please visit again soon to find out.

Speaking for Marissa Bonifay, this is Jon Dottingly. Until next time …be wise.

[v-thinks-on]

A Scandal on Baker Street - Day 3

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The next morning we met Professor Moriarty in his office. It was well kept and just shy of opulent, decorated with a few paintings and an abundance of curiosities and trinkets collected from a long life of study. The walls were lined with full bookshelves, bearing an eclectic assortment of tomes.

He greeted us at the door and ushered us into a pair of comfortable chairs in front of his desk. “So kind of you to join me. My apologies for the early hour, but I am a busy man.”

“Of course,” Irene replied with a dismissive wave. “Have you received any more information from your client or any of your other associates that may be of use to us?”

He shook his head. “The investigation is entirely in your hands. I see that you have not solved it, but you have not been idle. What have you uncovered thus far?”

“We have hardly scratched the surface,” Irene protested, a little too politely. “I’m afraid what we have so far will be of little use to you.”

“That is for me to determine,” Professor Moriarty said, and curtly settled the matter.

Still, Irene seemed to pause to consider for a moment before she acquiesced, “Very well. Dr. Watson’s depiction of Mr. Holmes seems to be largely accurate. Mr. Holmes appears to be a solitary man, with a limited collection of acquaintances who he meets with some frequency in the course of his work. He has a variety of clients from all walks of life - among them assorted constables and detectives - who visit him at varying intervals for consultations, but according to the landlady they only interact with Mr. Holmes as he pertains to their cases.

“As you suggested, we found that Dr. Watson is the only probable accomplice. He and Mr. Holmes were very close until the doctor’s marriage. As happens when a man marries, they have begun to see each other less frequently of late. It has not occurred rapidly enough for the taste of Mrs. Watson, whose husband still abandons her to aid Mr. Holmes with his work and is despondent in Mr. Holmes’s absence. However, all the evidence we can find is of a close friendship. We do not dare speculate about such a delicate matter.”

“I would have expected you to get a little farther in the time you have had, but this will have to do,” Professor Moriarty said.

“Pardon me,” Irene protested.

He ignored her. “You are invited to join me for tea in three days time. I hope that you will have resolved the matter by then.”

“That’s hardly enough time for a thorough investigation,” Irene exclaimed. “It takes time to build a rapport - I can only hear things that people are willing to say to me.”

“I am certain that you will find a way to manage.”

Irene stood and I followed her out the door, onto the street.

“He clearly has no time to spare,” Irene remarked as she led the way with a purposeful air in the opposite direction from what I had expected.

“He did seem rushed,” I acknowledged. “Do you have any thoughts as to why?”

She ignored my question. “Did you notice that painting in his office - of a woman with her head in her hands? You hardly could have missed it, we were nearly staring at it for the whole interview.”

I nodded.

“It’s a Greuze. He’s very fashionable these days - Marianne acquired one recently. It can’t have been cheap. I doubt he could afford it with his salary. That was the most glaring example, but the whole study spoke of barely disguised luxury. And think how he has spent money as though it was nothing in ensuring our services. I wonder...”

I waited for her to continue, but she would say no more on the matter.

Finally, I asked, “We have a whole day ahead of us, what now?”

It was still mid-morning; our talk with our enigmatic employer had not taken long.

“First,” Irene replied, “I believe an early lunch is in order. Then, I suggest we go and speak with Inspector Lestrade, which should give us some time before dinner.”

“You have a destination in mind?”

“But of course. It’s a lovely restaurant that just happens to fit the theme of our little vacation.” she said with a grin.

I gave her a wary glance, but her expression only said she was up to no good, which was no news to me. Thankfully, as we wound through the city, strolling alongside the great river Thames, it appeared that our destination had perfectly decent neighbors, at the very least. To my surprise, I found us nearing the grand residence of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria herself.

At last we came upon the Criterion. Embedded in the ornate stone facade were two wooden doors beneath a circular overhang bearing the restaurant’s name. Irene and I stepped into a rich, gilded dining hall, with a bar embedded into one wall between twin columns. A crowd of men of all ages stood about the tables, talking among themselves in a cacophonous buzz.

We passed deeper into the restaurant to find a table for two, where we could sit and eat as an innocuous pair of tourists. In the second hall, there were many others of our ilk, who had come to lunch amidst the extraordinary opulence of the British Empire. Perhaps they had been drawn there, as we had been, by its notoriety as the place where Dr. Watson met the friend who introduced him to Mr. Holmes.

As we waited at our table, I asked, “What do you expect to learn from the Inspector?”

“It is his job to notice criminal activities,” Irene replied wryly. “He may also be able to provide us with some insight into our mysterious employer.”

We approached the sturdy building of the Metropolitan Police Force, better known as Scotland Yard, again in the guise of two reporters. This time Irene had even given herself a shadow of stubble on her chin, and from the way she carried herself she looked like a wiry young man.

I fidgeted uncomfortably with my coarse suit. “Are you sure about this? If we’re caught sneaking around here in disguise-”

“Do you think they would hear us out if we came as ourselves? No, we won’t be caught,” Irene answered with an air of unshakable confidence, “So long as we play our parts. People are blind to that which they don’t expect to see. We dress as reporters, so why would we be anything but?”

I nodded in reply and let her take the lead; this time she was playing the more experienced reporter.

“Excuse me, sir,” Irene stopped one of the men on the stairs - presumably returning from lunch. She spoke in short, rough phrases, “Do you know where we can find Inspector Lestrade?”

“What do you need him for?” the man replied, obviously in a sour mood.

“We’re reporters with Accounts of Fact and Fiction,” Irene answered without skipping a beat. “We have a few questions for him.”

A somewhat malicious smile crossed the man’s tired face and he led us inside. “Of course, right this way.”

“And your name is?” I piped up.

“Inspector Gregson at your service.” He took off his hat to us in a little bow.

Irene gave me an appreciative glance before turning back to the Inspector. “Inspector Gregson, you said? You’ve worked with Mr. Sherlock Holmes?”

“On one or two cases,” he said evasively, “Inspector Lestrade has needed to call upon him many more times than I have over the years. I’m only barely acquainted with Mr. Holmes myself.”

Irene persisted, “What’s it’s like working with him?”

We followed Inspector Gregson down a busy corridor. At first his tone was awkward, but gradually he seemed to become more comfortable as he spoke, “He’s not the easiest man to work with, a bit full of himself, if you know what I mean, a bit of a showman, keeping his observations to himself until he can put it all together in one grand reveal. He likes the spotlight. But he does know his stuff,” he admitted reluctantly. “There’s not a man in the Yard - not a man who’s worked with him that is - who wouldn’t mind taking him down a peg if he had the chance.”

“Still,” Gregson continued as we stopped at an office door, “I can’t deny that he’s a good man to have on call. He’s helpful in a pinch, if he feels like it.”

With that, Inspector Gregson knocked at the door.

A man who must have been Inspector Lestrade answered through the door, “Come in.”

Gregson pulled the door open and waved us inside with a smile. “Reporters; they’ve got a few questions for you.”

Inspector Lestrade shot his colleague a glare before letting out a sigh. “Very well, I don’t have much time, but go ahead- ask away.”

Inspector Gregson hastily excused himself and left us with Inspector Lestrade behind the closed office door.

“So what’s this all about?” Inspector Lestrade asked, already impatient.

“I’m Nathaniel Clapham,” Irene explained, with a gruff, yet casual air that made her seem larger somehow, “And this is my associate, Mr. Theodore Powell - please excuse him, he’s a bit new to the business. We’re with Accounts of Fact and Fiction-”

Inspector Lestrade grumbled in response.

‘Mr. Clapham’ ignored him and forged on; “We’re aware of your connection to Mr. Sherlock Holmes. What’s it like working with the consulting detective of literary fame?”

“Mr. Holmes is away, last I heard in France,” Inspector Lestrade answered a tad sharply. “It’s been weeks since anyone here has seen him.”

“But you’ve worked with him before,” Mr. Clapham insisted. “How far back have you known him?”

Inspector Lestrade resigned himself to answering her questions and forced himself to think back. “It’s been what? Over ten years now? Dr. Watson asked me the same thing a couple years back for his writing - trying to reconstruct Mr. Holmes’ history, I think. I couldn’t tell him either, not even after he suggested a few years.”

“What years did he give you?” Mr. Clapham pressed.

“Lets see… Well, he met Mr. Holmes in ‘81, and of course his own marriage to Mrs. Watson in ‘88, that’s all I remember. You’d have to ask Dr. Watson himself for more details. I honestly don’t know why you’re coming to me. Dr. Watson lived with Mr. Holmes; if you want information on him, Dr. Watson is the man to ask. Though, now that I think of it, I haven’t seen Dr. Watson around in a while. He is a married man now. I hear he even has his own medical practice.”

“But you knew Mr. Holmes before he met Dr. Watson?” Mr. Clapham asked.

The inspector nodded. “That’s how I know it’s been a long time.”

“What do you know about his history?”

Inspector Lestrade shook his head in exasperation. “I’ve only worked with him, asked him to help out with the finer points on a few cases, that’s all. He’s not a very communicative man when it doesn’t suit him, and all he likes talking about is how we’re wrong and he’s right.”

“What was he like when you met him?”

The inspector thought back again. “He was a young man, not long out of university, as far as I could tell. Said he’d solved a few cases before and thought he could help with one I was working on at the time. I was a rookie and the case was a real doozy - it’d been months and no leads. He solved it in a matter of days. Didn’t ask much pay, just that we remember him next time we were having trouble with a case, said it’d save us both some trouble - according to him a lot of the evidence had gone dry while we’d been trying to sort it out,” Inspector Lestrade concluded with a scoff at the amateur’s arrogance.

“According to Dr. Watson’s account, Mr. Holmes is and has always been a largely friendless man. Can you attest to that?”

“As I said before, I’m not a personal friend of the man, I just know him through business. For a little while there - before Dr. Watson showed up - as far as I could tell I was his only connection, but even then, I didn’t see him much. He could have been an extraordinarily social man, and I wouldn’t have known the half of it. I wouldn’t know now.”

Mr. Clapham refused to let him get out of answering that easily. “But you’re a man of the Yard; you’re used to making quick judgements about people and figuring out a lot from a little. Detectives and reporters are alike in that sense. Do you think he was an ‘extraordinarily social man’?”

Inspector Lestrade hesitated before shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. As I said, far as I could tell, Mr. Holmes hasn’t had any friends aside from Dr. Watson for all the time I’ve known him, and now even they don’t seem so close any more. It happens when a man gets married.”

“What about Mr. Holmes?” I put in. “Has he had any suitors?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Mr. Holmes has never seemed the type for marrying,” Inspector Lestrade said with half a smile.

“What about Irene Adler?” Mr. Clapham suggested.

Inspector Lestrade let out a sharp laugh. “I doubt it, though, I assure you, you’re not the first to ask.”

“Why not?” Mr. Clapham insisted.

“I’ve never seen him so much as look at a woman if it wasn’t for a case,” Inspector Lestrade said, “and I can’t imagine he’d find one who would put up with him. I can hardly fathom why Dr. Watson puts up with him.”

“Why does someone as brilliant as Mr. Holmes put up with Dr. Watson?” Mr. Clapham asked.

“Dr. Watson has the patience of a saint,” the inspector began, until he abruptly realized he was answering the wrong question. Instead he shrugged and said, “Maybe Dr. Watson is just the only one who will put up with him. And the doctor does admire him; Mr. Holmes is never one to shy away from applause. Not that he doesn’t care for Dr. Watson, that is - he does, more than he cares for any of the rest of us, at least.”

“But you couldn’t say why?” Mr. Clapham pressed.

Inspector Lestrade hesitated. “There’s no use in speculating.”

“Speculation from a detective-” Mr. Clapham began.

“Excuse me,” Inspector Lestrade interrupted, “It’s getting late, and I’ve got work to do. If you’ve got no further questions-”

“Just one more,” Mr. Clapham said. “Is Mr. Holmes truly the world’s only consulting detective, or are there other consultants who compete with him for the Yard’s ear?”

“Our own men are usually sufficient,” the inspector said. “We don’t make a habit of bringing in outside ‘experts.’”

“Of course,” Mr. Clapham said. “But you must get a lot of difficult cases. If Mr. Holmes isn’t available or-”

Inspector Lestrade shook his head. “Despite what Mr. Holmes may believe, we’re perfectly capable of taking care of things without him - or anyone else’s help.”

“That’s all, thank you.” Mr. Clapham stood to leave with a shallow bow.

“Yes, thank you very much,” I said, and hastily followed after.

[sometimesrosy]

story idea anon here! Im not 100% about everything I said exactly but to recap: I have a story idea for basically a series (5 books) and I’ve had it for awhile. The thing is, it’s sci-fi, which pretty much needs plot driven writing. I’m not good at that. It doesn’t make me wanna write. I’m good at character/feelings/relationship driven writing and that’s what makes me want to write and move the story forward. But I don’t wanna give up on the book just because I don’t know how to adapt.

(2) Obviously, because in order for things to happen, the plot is the thing that needs to move forward chapter to chapter in this kind of fiction. I know that. But it doesn’t seem to excite me, at all. I get excited about the slow burn I have mapped out, the story lines that will go on and complete each other from the first to the last chapter, the twists, the romance, the friendships and unexpected partnerships, the cliffhangers etc. All of it. But writing the things the characters are doing?

(3) As in plans and action scenes and fighting and bad guys and whatever? Nothing. It just seems like a chore and makes me procrastinate on moving forward. But I’ve had this idea for so long and I really like it and I really want to tell this story, I just don’t know how to do it right. Do I make it more character/feelings/relationship driven even though it doesn’t necessarily fit the genre? Do I power through the parts I don’t like even though it will make the process last longer? Do I change

(4) stuff? Do I try to change myself and my style? I don’t wanna just give up. Please help. (also i dont know if i’ve been on anon or not cause i just kinda started typing and didnt really stop)

Okay. Sorry for not answering this yesterday when I asked you to send in the missing #1 ask, but I had to do all sorts of other stuff and didn’t have the focus. Now it’s morning and i’m in writing brain, so let’s go.

All right, so it seems like you are struggling with the conflict between what you WANT to write and what you think you’re SUPPOSED to write. 

The key to this struggle is to always let the WANT win over the SUPPOSED TO. Oh, well that sounds like I’m advocating complete and total writing anarchy! Who needs plot! Who needs structure! Nah I’m not. Not really.

BUT I am saying that you need to write the story you NEED to tell, the one that’s humming below your skin. Write the story you want to tell. Write the things that make you passionate. Write the things you’re good at.

Now this doesn’t mean ignore the plot or genre or the things you’re bad at. Facing the frisson of your fears and insecurities and struggles adds a tension to your work and leads you into new places that will surprise even you. So one of the things you can do when stuck between WANT and SHOULD is learn how to BALANCE them. 

Okay, that doesn’t sound like letting the want win, but that’s how I work. 

FIRST. FORGET ABOUT GENRE REQUIREMENTS. I mean, don’t. You know the world you’re writing in and the rules you have to follow. You know what you love about it, work with that. But it’s not as strict as you’re thinking it is. You get to BEND the rules, without actually breaking them. Sure, we love sci fi because of the action and ideas… and sure, i personally might have given up on the literary fiction genre because I was SO bored of it, but if you take the character and language driven style of literary fiction and combine it with the plot and concept driven style of sci fi, what you have is a DAMN FINE STORY. You see what I’m saying? You can use the best parts of BOTH to make your story better. BALANCE. 

You don’t have to sacrifice who you are as a writer to write a particular genre. It’s part of you and it’s your voice and what makes you unique. I’ll tell you a secret. I’m actually a poet. I don’t write much poetry anymore, but I take my poetry and put it into my science fiction and fantasy. My whole writing style is based on, basically, the poetry of the world. I may not give each sentence the attention I would a poem, but the impulse is still there, even if the genre is miles away from what I’m writing. And that makes for a better story. Sometimes I think I’m a better fiction writer than poet PRECISELY because I use my poetry IN my fiction. 

You aren’t WRONG as a sci fi writer because you like to focus on emotions and characters and relationships. You’re a sci fi writer with character driven stories. I guarantee you that people like that. Not all people. And some people will complain that it’s not hard enough or science fictiony enough or too girly or whatever, but, honestly, WHO CARES? Don’t write for everybody. You can’t please everybody. Write for yourself. 

I personally prefer my science fiction to be character driven and I prefer to have some element of love in there, and I need to be able to connect to the characters emotionally. I think this is one reason why I prefer women writers. And one reason why I stopped listening to male critics about “What makes sci fi sci fi.” Because frankly, I’m more interested in how society works and how characters move within society than I am in whether or not my FTL space travel could conceptually work or the intricacies of war and weaponry. If boys want to play technology war in space, they can. I want to find out how that war affects my characters when it’s over and they have to keep living. Now what? 

Oh. In case you didn’t catch that, there is definitely a gender driven status thing within the sci fi community that invalidates women’s stories and glorifies men’s stories, so please make sure that’s not what’s in your head while you are critiquing the kind of story you want to tell. Because if NK Jemisin’s THREE consecutive Hugo awards, and the backlash against her winning them, is not proof that we WANT the different stories, and how some people don’t want us to tell them, then I don’t know what is.

The sci fi and fantasy genre is always changing and shifting to allow for new ideas and ways of writing. That’s what it’s for. It’s speculative. And we like new ideas. There is lots of room for experimentation. There’s lots of room for alien thinking. lol. you see what I did there? The point is, sci fi is about new and different concepts and where they could take us. Go ahead and invent your own genre. Or maybe you’re not inventing it, and it’s already there as a subgenre and you never noticed. There is actually a sci fi romance subgenre, and it’s a subgenre of romance I think. I don’t tend to prefer it because it follows the tropes of romance rather than sci fi, but you can also write sci fi that focuses on romance, like Sharon Shinn. Her stories are very romantic. But definitely sci fi. 

Okay, so that’s some conceptual stuff I want you to think about in regards to your writing process and style. But I also have some practical suggestions/tips/hints that might help you get over your hump. I’ve got two in my mind right now, lets see if I can come up with any others as I go along.

One trick. What I do sometimes, is to set up the overall, grand scheme plot, and really have no idea how I’m going to get there. Like that part you’re talking about, writing about what the characters are doing? None of that is set up. When I get there, I enter into the character motivations. Feelings, thoughts, backstory, personality, goals, desires, fears. ALL of these things are what move my plot forward. Because what I keep asking is, “how would this character react to this situation.” Now if I’ve done my job with character building then I will KNOW because I know my characters history and personality, and I can power the story with their growth and struggles. The question is always, “What Would MC Do?” I drive my plot forward by following my characters through the world I set up and basing their decisions on who they are. Some of them are emotional. Some of them are logical. Some of them are angry, some are pacifistic. All those characters are interacting with each other and shifting the story this way or that. This causes tension and gives us problems to solve and ways to solve it. You pick the ones that get you to your endpoint. Sometimes I think I’ve taken myself AWAY from my planned ending and I’m like, oh well, I guess I need a different ending. And then I get to the ending and, like magic, everything I set up starts falling into place and what I originally planned and thought had failed has been building all along. (GOOD JOB, SUBCONSCIOUS!) That has happened to me TWICE in the past year. 

Another trick. This came from a twitter post where someone was saying how she wanted to just write stories about WLW in love, but she didn’t have a plot. And I said. What do you mean you don’t have a plot? That’s your plot. Love is the answer. Love is the goal. Obstacles to love are what your characters need to fight through. Love is how your characters find strength. I said, make love the super power. Make the villain be the one who is trying to kill love, whether individually or on a universal level. For sci fi there are so many ways to do that. Maybe they’re trying to create a solely logical universe. Maybe they’re cyborgs. Maybe they want to kill a planet that the MC loves, IDK. Use your imagination. Fit it to your story. Don’t create an obstacle and plot that doesn’t connect to your desire for character and relationships and love. MAKE YOUR PLOT ABOUT THAT LOVE. It’s sci fi, you can invent the technology to make it real. Or magic if you’re doing fantasy. IMO it’s the same thing.

Oh here’s another thing. Maybe you need to stop listening to your doubts and internal editor so much, telling you that what you’re writing isn’t right. The thing that helped me get over that obsession with doing it wrong was actually nanowrimo, which I did for the first time in 2006. If you’ve done it before, or if you haven’t, you might be ready to take on this challenge to write a novel in the month of november this year, for this project. You’ve been thinking about it a lot. It sounds like you’re ready. And if you have to focus on getting the wordcount done, and you start focusing on character instead of plot, you won’t have time to get worried about whether you’re being too charactery and not ploty enough. (how is charactery a word but ploty isn’t? anyway.) And then by the time you’ve written it, you can read it over and decide if your plot is thin or it doesn’t move you forward enough, and THEN you can ADD IN THE PLOT ELEMENTS that you don’t write in your process. WHAT? Or you can remove some of the slower character driven stuff and just use it for your character development. Or even take it out and turn it into a short story. THIS is the writing process. The revision process. Just write your little heart out, and then go back over it to add in the elements you’re missing and remove the things that don’t move the story forward. 

TL;DR Whatchutalkin’ bout nonny. You’ve got a plot. You’ve mapped it out. It’s character driven. Stop doubting yourself. If you want more action, stick it in there. Make it relationship/character driven. Don’t change yourself. Make it work. 

ps. i answer questions here about writing, no problem, but i have a writing blog where i try to collect posts (mine and others) about writing, and art and creativity @rosy-writes so if you want to follow or scroll that it might be more focused, although this blog is more active.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Imagine Bucky owns a bookstore and this is Tony's favorite place to relax and get away from his stressful job.

Barnes’ City of Books

A/N: Non-powered AU. Bucky owns a bookshop, Tony is still a genius and owner/CEO of Stark Industries. Some literary references and some fluff ahead! Many thanks to @folklejend for beta reading.

Part 1 of 2

“Hey. We’re closin’ up.”

Bucky tried to say it as nicely as he could. He'd cleared out the rest of the shop, which was a hard enough task by itself, considering he had three floors and almost seventy-thousand square feet to cover. He'd locked the back doors and pulled the curtains closed, then hit the lights in every section but the front of the store. And now, he was faced with his least favorite task: kicking out the last customer.

“Shit,” the man said, looking up in surprise. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize what time it was.”

Bucky knew most of the people who lingered after closing on a first name basis. This man, Bucky had never met. He had an impeccable beard and a sharp jawline that Bucky would've remembered. The man’s whole look, from the hair to the suit to the expensive Italian shoes, screamed upper-class Manhattan. So what was he doing in an independent bookshop in Brooklyn?

(watch out for the break!)

“Sorry,” the man said again, slipping a bookmark between the pages and standing up. “I’ll get out of your hair and-”

“Hang on.” Bucky cast a curious glance down, but he couldn't see the book’s binding well enough to make out the title. “What’re you readin’?”

“Huh? Oh. It’s uh. War and Peace. Ambitious, I know.” The man smiled, and that was a good look if Bucky had ever seen one. “You’re the owner, right? Mr. Barnes?”

“Bucky,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Tony. Nice to meet you.”

Tony shook hands like a businessman, but his palm was calloused like he was - what? A woodworker? Or maybe a mechanic? Curiouser and curiouser, Bucky thought.

“I hope you don’t mind my askin’, but what’s a guy like you doin’ in a place like this?”

Tony snorted. “How much time do you have?”

Bucky knew it was meant to be a rhetorical question, but damn if his curiosity didn’t always get the better of him. “I got all night.”

“What?” Tony blinked a few times, then frowned. “But you’re closing.”

Bucky shrugged easily. “Doesn’t mean I have to kick you out when I lock up. Besides, I haven’t turned off the espresso maker yet.”

Tony looked skeptical. “Are you really offering me coffee at ten o’clock?”

“Yeah. Guess I am.” Bucky smiled, not missing the way Tony’s eyes lit up. “If it makes a difference, I got decaf.”

~

“And now they’re asking me to design weapons,” Tony said, spinning the espresso cup over and over as he spoke. “Even though I’ve made it perfectly clear that I’m not interested in the weapons industry at all, and they just - they keep offering me more money.”

Tony shook his head. It sounded like such a first world problem when he said it out loud, and it really was, just like everything else Tony had to deal with. As the CEO of Stark Industries, his life was almost exclusively made up of first world problems. Still, that didn’t make the pressure from the board any less intimidating. Since when had it become so difficult for Tony to say no? And since when had Tony given up his ‘I’m Tony Stark and I do what I want’ attitude in favor of making decisions just to pacify his stockholders?

“I honestly didn’t know how to get them off my back,” Tony continued, “so I figured I’d just hide.”

Bucky looked at him curiously. “In a bookshop?”

Tony nodded, letting his hands rest on the cool granite of the espresso bar. “Yep. In a bookshop.”

“How come?”

“They think I bleed technology. My going to a place like this wouldn’t even occur to them. Plus, this is the City of Books, right? Even if they came looking for me, I could lose them easy.”

Bucky smiled, and Tony’s heart did some kind of somersault, which wasn’t unreasonable given how attractive Bucky was. For the way he looked, Bucky could’ve been a model. Tony could imagine that face on billboards or in commercials; there was serious money to be made on handsomeness like that. So how on earth had Bucky ended up as the owner of a bookshop, in Brooklyn of all places?

“I named it the City of Books because I wanted people to feel like they could get lost in the store the same way they get lost in the stories,” Bucky said. “Books have always been my favorite way to escape. Wanted to give that gift to as many people as I could.”

There was Tony's answer: Bucky loved books. He clearly wasn’t just an avid reader. He was one of those people who bought into the power a story had to transport a person somewhere else. Even if being a small business owner was undoubtedly less lucrative than any theoretical modeling career, Bucky had created his own reality, opened his own shop centered around the thing he loved.

Tony wished for that kind of courage. He had taken over Howard’s role for no other reason than it was expected, and he hadn't given it a second thought since. Did Tony love being CEO of Stark Industries? No. He loved tech, loved making things and building things and solving problems. But Tony didn’t do any of that any more. Tony attended meetings and made decisions and put on a pretty face for the cameras.

“So you're saying this stuff really speaks to you,” Tony said.

“Yeah. Guess so.”

“That’s… That’s sort of incredible.” Tony turned his head to look at the rows of books behind them, marveling again at just how big the shop was. “You can tell, you know. The care you put into this place. It shows.”

Bucky looked - flattered? That was probably the best word for it. His eyes were bright with sincerity when he said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Tony swallowed. It felt like Bucky was looking into him, and Tony wasn’t prepared for that kind of scrutiny, not when he wasn’t sure there was really anything special under the surface. Still, Tony found himself hard pressed to look away. He smiled past the lump in his throat. “Anyway. Sorry to just lay everything on you like that. You handed me an espresso and I just started going on.”

“It ain’t a problem. I like listenin’.”

“You have no idea how much I appreciate that.” No one ever asked Tony how he was doing; no one ever cared about Tony unless they wanted something. His work was an endless parade of polite people asking for favors. “Anyway. I'm sorry I've kept you so late.”

Bucky shrugged. “Ain’t quite midnight yet.”

“Oh shit." Midnight. Tony had contracts to sign and send off, and he had a slew of meetings in the morning that would require him to be at least halfway coherent. He fished his phone out of his pocket, scrolling quickly through his alerts.

“Yep, okay, it’s really late and I’ve missed-” Tony barked a laugh- “five calls from my assistant. So if I’m dead tomorrow, at least you know why.” Tony slipped the phone back into his pocket, already regretting having to leave.

“Um. It was really nice talking to you. Maybe...” Tony trailed off, hesitating like an idiot. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

“Whenever you want,” Bucky said, and Tony got the feeling that he meant it.

“Okay. Great.” Tony hopped down off the barstool and flashed a smile, walking backwards toward the door. “Well then. I guess I'll see you around.”

Bucky nodded once, a bemused look on his face. “Guess you will.”

~

“Are you the one who writes the recommendations?”

Bucky looked up from his purchase orders just long enough to give Tony a once-over. “Some of the other staff write ’em, but yeah, it’s mostly me.”

“Any chance you’d be interested in a different perspective?” Tony asked.

“Not sure what you mean.”

“I mean that I make great recommendations, too.”

Bucky opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, leaning forward and crossing his arms over the counter. “You don’t even work here.”

“So what? You don’t have room for a guest recommender?” Tony raised his eyebrows in a way that said, ‘How could you possibly turn me down? I'm obviously amazing.’ Really, the man was too expressive for his own good.

“Come on,” Tony tried again. “If you hate them, you can always throw them out.”

Bucky pursed his lips. Was he about to say yes because it wasn’t actually a terrible idea? Or because of the way Tony was smiling at him?

Maybe a little of both, Bucky thought.

“Fine. You bring me your recommendations, and I’ll consider ’em.”

Tony looked so stupidly pleased that Bucky had to laugh. Would it always be so easy to make Tony happy? Bucky had to hope so.

“Great.” Tony tucked his notebook under one arm, sliding his pencil behind his ear. “I’ll be in touch.”

Bucky nodded. “’Course you will.”

Tony was only in the shop every damn day, or close to it. In the last three weeks, Bucky had probably seen more of Tony than his own employees.

Tony disappeared around the corner, headed toward the young adult fiction, and Bucky smiled to himself. He didn't mind seeing Tony so often. In fact, if he was honest, he had started looking forward to it.

CEO of Stark industries. You sure know how to pick ’em, Barnes.

Putting that thought carefully aside, Bucky turned around to resume his work.

~

“So. What’s wrong?”

Tony glanced up from his book, surprised. “Huh?”

“You’re readin’ Tolstoy.” Bucky lowered himself into the chair opposite Tony, resting his arms on the table. “That means you’re upset about somethin’.”

“I’m - how did you know that?”

“I’ve seen you read Tolstoy three times. The first night you came in here. The anniversary of when your parents died. And now today.”

It was eerie, how Bucky could read Tony like he was nothing more than words on a page.

“Maybe I just like Anna Karenina,” Tony said softly.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Tony sighed, turning the book over and setting it down still open on the table. “Okay. You’re right. I’m upset about something. Happy?”

Bucky paused, studying him. “Why would I be happy that you’re upset?”

“Rhetorical question,” Tony muttered, as if he needed to defend himself for asking it in the first place.

“Figured you oughta know by now that I care how you feel.” There was so much warmth in Bucky’s eyes, it almost made Tony want to cry. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

Tony tapped one finger on the table, trying to find to find the words. “You know why I haven’t been back here in two days? It’s because I haven’t left the office.”

“You ain’t left the office in two days?”

“I haven’t even slept.”

Bucky seemed to deflate a little. “That bad, huh?”

“I’m buried under a mountain of paperwork. And I can’t let anyone else sign anything for me, because I can’t bear the thought of something bad happening under my watch that I should’ve known about, but didn’t. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does.” Bucky rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You ever thought about quittin’?”

Tony lowered his head. “I can't just quit.”

“Why not?”

“I…” Tony trailed off, staring down at the table. “I don't have anything else.”

“Far be it for me to argue with you,” Bucky said, leaning forward, “but I think you’re wrong.”

“Oh? How do you figure?”

“Well. You got friends, right? And you’re damn smart. You got three doctorates. You could do whatever you wanted. Research, tech design, underground bot fighting. Endless possibilities. Might even be able to do something you actually like.”

Tony snorted. Underground bot fighting. Now there was an idea.

“Wait. How did you know I have three doctorates?” Tony tried not to telegraph that little flutter of excitement in his chest. “Did you look me up?”

“Maybe.” Bucky clearly meant that as a yes, because he held Tony’s gaze, not even blinking. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

Bucky returned moments later with another book, setting it down in front of Tony.

Tony stared at the cover. “You want me to read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“You read Tolstoy when you’re upset, yeah? Well, I read Carroll when I need a change of perspective. Figured it’d be worth a shot for you.”

Tony pulled the book toward him. It was a newer version, but according to the cover, it had the original artwork throughout. That was interesting. Tony hadn’t seen the artwork before. He ran his fingers over the edges, surprised at the softness of the paper.

“Thank you,” Tony said.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky replied. “Come grab an espresso, if you want. On the house.”

Tony found himself stowing the book and standing up before he’d even had time to consider the offer. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t about to turn down free coffee. And he certainly wasn’t about to turn down Bucky’s company. No matter how much of that he got, somehow Tony always wanted more.

“Yeah,” Tony said, following Bucky toward the espresso bar. “Okay.”

[jawnkeets]

hello sorry to disturb you lovely person but i was wondering if you had some advices to have a better literary analysis, or a better culture well, i mean how can i improve my literary intelligence basically ? ( it may not be really clear but i hope you'll understand because i feel like i'm lost... )

hello anon! no need to be sorry, ur not disturbing me at all :+) feel free 2 send an ask at any time ✨✨✨

i’ll attempt to answer this by splitting ur ask into 2 parts. first i’ll try to give some tips on literary analysis, and then i’ll try to talk about the sort of wider awareness of lit (or the culture as you call it).

a little disclaimer: pls bear in mind that i am by no means qualified to speak about this in any way (i still very much consider myself a learner). i’ve generally been left alone throughout my education to do my own thing, which is a good thing in some respects and a bad thing in others; i don’t have the solid foundations that most ppl do, never following things like paragraph structures throughout lower school, and i didn’t know a thing about metre until the start of this month. however, because of my education i think i’ve managed to avoid a few conventional pitfalls. so, in short, you can take as much or as little of this advice as you like!

PART 1: literary analysis

• an excellent way to boost your analysis straight away, dull as it is, is to learn some literary devices beyond, say, alliteration and personification. being able to spot things like chiasmus and epiphora not only wows an examiner, but also enables you to talk about more things within a poem/ book/ play and thus broadens your literary scope in close reading.• remember that for each literary device you mention you should say what it REVEALS (DO NOT just list!!!). the best essays move from a literary device to an explanation of why this device is used - what does it reveal about a character, the speaker, or even the society that the poet or author was writing in?• rhythm and meter in a poem tick boxes in an exam, but can also lead to insightful analysis. how do the rhythm and meter add to the overall message of the poem? does, for example, the metre give a regularity to the poem? why might this be? is it broken at any point? how is this significant?• the above can be applied to rhyme scheme, too. look out for rhyming couplets at the end of a poem, which may give a sense of finality to the poem (or may seem to give a sense of finality when in actuality the speaker of the poem is far from decisive…).• it is important to remember that a particular rhyme scheme (or metre) doesn’t ALWAYS mean anything; it can mean different things in different poems, so instead of applying a ready-made formula, try to go into the exam knowing how to identify these aspects of a poem and then try to work out why you think the poet has used them in that particular poem. flexibility is key, which can be daunting but also somewhat liberating.• i personally find a ‘scribble method’ quite useful. this is where, when first approaching a piece of writing, you write down everything that comes into your head, regardless of how messy, or how basic. you then sort through your ideas, expanding upon what you think is worthwhile and discarding what you think is not. this method is generally more handy when not under time pressure, though, as it can get you into a muddle in the exam.• start simple and build up. it can be tempting to jump straight in but sometimes when you start simply new things can reveal themselves as you work your way up into more complex ideas! • perspective is extremely useful to consider. who is speaking and why? are they biased or objective? who are they speaking to and why?

unseen exam tips

• in an exam, i would approach a poetry or prose extract first by simply reading it, and trying to find out what it is about. then i would go through and highlight words/ phrases of interest, and label literary devices. finally, i would go through it again and build the main analysis. a brief paragraph plan can be useful before writing the essay.• acronyms can help sometimes as a go-to in an exam when you don’t have much time. for example, i use CFTTSOL - content (basic story, characters, who is speaking and why etc) form (poetry, prose, drama etc), tense (past/ present etc), tone (happy, sad, why? is the tone at odds with the subject matter? in emily dickinson’s ‘because i could not stop for death’, for example, the poem is about something dark but it is very jolly), structure/ syntax (rhyme, caesura, enjambment, any disrupted syntax, etc) other (anything not mentioned in the rest of the categories) and language (similes, metaphors, assonance, etc). i would recommend finding one that works for YOU and makes sense for YOU, because creating your own can really help to ease you into analysis.

PART 2: literary awareness

• read, read, read! i cannot stress the importance of wider reading enough, and also the importance of thinking whilst you read (making notes/ annotating books whilst you read is advisable). i am speaking from experience here - i didn’t read outside of the curriculum at all until the end of last year, and since i have started my literary analysis has increased tenfold. this is partly because practice is vital, but also because wider reading gave me an awareness that i could never have expected to gain. it enabled me to start making links between texts, genres, periods, etc – i began to see patterns and conventions in literature. for instance, a poem that breaks convention is easier to spot and talk about – to use a very basic example, a sonnet (usually a form of love poetry) about brutality/ violence toys with genre. if you had read some of shakespeare’s sonnets, you could then compare the violent poem with sonnet 18, to elucidate your point. this isn’t to say that you didn’t already know that sonnets were love poems, or that you wouldn’t have picked up on this without wider reading. but having read sonnets outside of class means that you can talk about this with greater clarity, authority and confidence.• i would also advise you to push yourself with the literary material you explore. it is difficult, but try to find nothing intimidating - read thick victorian novels, read modernist authors, read kant if you want, and even if the prospect of reading ‘harder’ texts doesn’t thrill you then try them anyway - you may be pleasantly surprised! part of the difficulty of studying this subject is that preconceived ideas can erect barriers and put you off. it is important to totally bulldoze these barriers and remind yourself that nothing is above you, and that you are capable. that’s not at all to say that you can’t read ‘simpler’ texts, and of course it is probably wise to admit to yourself when you perhaps need a greater literary background before you tackle a text (for example, i tried joyce’s ulysses, a modernist text full of allusion, when i have a barely working knowledge of greek mythology, and i admitted to myself that though it would not be impossible for me to read it, i would like to read more widely and then return to it in the future).• w i k i p e d i a. it’s often sniffed at but honestly don’t be afraid of using it! it’s an excellent way to absorb info fast. also don’t be ashamed of using websites like sparknotes if you don’t understand a poem to begin with! u shouldn’t rely on them for the crux of your analysis but they can be helpful to get started!• it’s perhaps obvious, but it helps to remind yourself that literature isn’t just fiction - try to read some critical essays if you can, and look at philosophy, history, psychology etc and how they relate to literature as studied in school. this is actually wayyyy more fun than it sounds (!) and will improve your general literary knowledge.• tumblr, whilst being a killer procrastination station, can also really help to broaden your knowledge. reblogged quotes from famous writers often stick around in your memory, and period moodboards can help you get a sense of different ages and help you to visualise what you’re studying. it’s also great to be in a community of passionate people - the passion of others on this site has definitely rubbed off on me!• make it relevant!! all of these texts and literary movements have shaped our society profoundly. as overdramatic as it sounds, look for the romanticism in a house party, or existentialism in internet memes, or hamlet in yourself. legacies are all around us, and seeing the world in this way can really bring literature to life.

literature is a subject where you get out what you put in. it’s relatively straightforward, if you work hard, to get very good grades in lit; if this is what you want, then having a solid knowledge of metre and literary terms, being able to spot them in texts, and then being able to describe what this reveals can get you top marks. but, in my opinion, to develop true literary intelligence you really have to let the subject permeate every aspect of your life. this is a subject where you really can take risks, be original and unique, and explore a huge amount of periods and ideas. if you see it reflected in the world around you, and think deeply and thoughtfully about everything you are reading, then the classwork honestly sorts itself out.

i hope this has been useful in some way and that it answers ur ask adequately!! if u have any further questions or require clarification please do not hesitate to let me know. i hope u have a wonderful day 💘

[char27martin]

20 Best Songs for Writers and About Writing: The Ultimate Writing Mixtape

Recently, I had iTunes on random and a couple songs played back-to-back that had lines about writing. It didn’t take long for me to wonder, “What are the best songs for writers and about writing?” So I started making my own list, and I put out a call on Facebook and Twitter (find my handles below if you love being part of such conversations).

Anyway, this post puts together my ultimate writing mixtape of the best 20 songs for and about writers and the process of writing. Sure, there are many other great songs about the subject, and please share them in the comments below. But this is the mix I’m going to start rocking on my way to and from writer conferences, open mics, and writing retreats.

Just click the links below to listen to the songs on YouTube.

*****

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Since 1921, Writer’s Market has been helping freelance writers get published and get paid for their writing, whether by finding magazines, book publishers, literary agents, contests, and more markets. In 2000, the team launched WritersMarket.com, and now freelancers can access more listings that are updated throughout the year.

The great thing about Writer’s Market Deluxe Edition is that writers get the same printed version of Writer’s Market they love along with an activation code for a one-year subscription to WritersMarket.com. And the 2018 edition is now available for pre-order.

Click to continue.

*****

20 Best Songs for Writers and About Writing Mixtape

Track 1: “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter,” by Fats Waller

This is the perfect intro track with a bit of an instrumental opening before getting into the lyrics, which include, “I’m gonna sit right down and write myself a letter and make believe it came from you.” The song was composed by Fred E. Ahlert and Joe Young in 1935 and made popular by Waller. But it’s been covered by a range of artists, including Billy Williams, Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Nat “King” Cole, Willie Nelson, Anne Murray, Linda Scott, and Paul McCartney–just to name a few.

Track 2: “I Could Write a Book,” by Dinah Washington

There are two ways to make a transition on a mixtape: smooth or jarring. Both are effective, but I prefer smooth early on in a mix. Enter this wonderful version of “I Could Write a Book,” which was a tune in the Rodgers & Hart 1940 musical Pal Joey. I first heard Harry Connick’s version from When Harry Met Sally…, but a range of artists have performed this song as well, including Ella Fitzgerald, Rosemary Clooney, and Miles Davis.

Track 3: “Dancing in the Dark,” by Bruce Springsteen

According to the Boss, “you can’t start a fire without a spark.” So here we go. The biggest hit off the bestselling album (Born in the U.S.A.) of Bruce Springsteen’s career, “Dancing in the Dark” includes the line that he’s “sick of sitting around here trying to write this book.” Musically, this song jump starts the mix with synths, quick beats, and that fade out sax.

Track 4: “Write About Love,” by Belle and Sebastian

Anyone who has participated in either my April or November poem-a-day challenges knows how I feel about love poems. So of course, Belle and Sebastian’s song “Write About Love” from the album titled Write About Love had to make the cut. In addition to the writing theme, it keeps the upbeat momentum of the early mixtape.

Track 5: “The Engine Driver,” by the Decemberists

Track five slows things down a little, and it plays with the theme of love while taking it’s time getting to the writing reference in the song. But the chorus slams home with, “I am a writer, writer of fictions … and I’ve written pages upon pages trying to rid you from my bones.” Once you hear this song, it stays. Click here for a pretty cool analysis of the song.

Track 6: “Poetry Man,” by Phoebe Snow

Transition time: From slower and lonely to mellow and hopeful. A kind of summer afternoon song by Phoebe Snow about the poetry man, who “makes things alright.” The song actually hit number one on the Billboard‘s Easy Listening chart in 1975. In 2007, Queen Latifah covered the song for her Trav’lin’ Light album.

Track 7: “I Am a Rock,” by Simon and Garfunkel

As Paul Simon mentions in the opening of this performance, “This according to Arty is my most neurotic song.” This folk song plays off the previous song’s focus on poetry with the line, “I have my books and my poetry to protect me.” I’m sure more than a few poets and readers can relate to that sense of protection from loneliness and isolation. Released as a single in 1966, “I Am a Rock” rose to number three on the Billboard Top 100 list.

Track 8: “Wuthering Heights,” by Kate Bush

Kate Bush hit it big on her debut single, which she wrote at 18 and was based on the novel of the same name. “Wuthering Heights” was released in January 1978 and spent 4 weeks at the number one position of the UK Singles Chart. One interesting part of this song is that Bush lifted lines from Wuthering Heights character Catherine Earnshaw, including “Let me in! I’m so cold!” from the chorus. The song had two music videos; the other one can be viewed by clicking here.

Track 9: “Paperback Writer,” by the Beatles

After some slower (and more somber) songs, we switch up the mood and beat a little with the Beatles. “Paperback Writer” was written by Paul McCartney as a response to a challenge by an aunt, according to disc jockey Jimmy Savile, who asked him to write a single that didn’t have to do with love. Regardless of the inspiration, the song is written as a letter from an author to a publisher, making it relatable to writers everywhere.

Track 10: “Autobiography,” by Sloan

This song starts, “I’m bright and young and gifted in my autobiography; I figured who would know better than me?” I’ve always considered this song a little gem for writers, especially writers who have a life story to tell. This song comes off Sloan’s One Chord to Another album, which recently celebrated its 20th anniversary.

Track 11: “Hey Jack Kerouac,” by 10,000 Maniacs

In this performance, Natalie Merchant starts off by reading a brief biography of Jack Kerouac. Then, they jump into this song, which reads like a letter to Kerouac from the opening lines, “Hey Jack Kerouac, I think of your mother and the tears she cried, she cried for none other…” A song about a literary figure and the life of an artist.

Track 12: “Everyday I Write the Book,” by Elvis Costello and the Attractions

For mixtape purposes, I consider this a response track to the previous song. This song was the first hit for Costello and the Attractions in the U.S. It uses the process of writing a book as a metaphor for love and a relationship. One part sings, “Chapter One, we didn’t really get along; Chapter Two, I think I fell in love with you…” Costello himself referred to it as a “bad Smokey Robinson song.”

Track 13: “Unwritten,” by Natasha Bedingfield

I have to admit; I didn’t think this song would be a good fit. But hey, sometimes that’s the magic of a mixtape: Each song raises the others. But I love lyrics like, “Staring at the blank page before you” and “Today is when your book begins.” It hit number five on the Billboard Hot 100 in 2006; so there are at least a few others out there who dig it too.

Track 14: “Word Crimes,” by Weird Al Yankovic

As long as we’re getting into weird territory, it’s time to slip in Weird Al and maybe the best grammar-related song ever. A parody of Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines,” “Word Crimes” has too many lines to do it justice in a short blurb. But it breaks down the proper use of “it’s” and “its,” in addition to talking about the best time to use the world “literally.”

Track 15: “Oxford Comma,” by Vampire Weekend

From a song about grammar to a song that focuses on one of the more contentious grammar issues of all-time: the Oxford comma. Use it? Don’t use it? In this song, Vampire Weekend seems to be saying, “who cares?” Writers, that’s who! Am I right?

Track 16: “Writers Retreat,” by Lloyd Cole

This is when you know we’re getting real on this mixtape: grammar, Oxford commas, and writing retreats? Heck yeah! This is the writing life. In this song, Cole laments how he won’t be there when his lover returns from the writers retreat. From the chorus: “You can write a book while falling apart.”

Track 17: “I’ll Be Your Sylvia Plath,” by Laurel Brauns

This is a sweet, little connector song between the few rollicking romps before it and the final three of this writing music mix. I wish I could share more about this song and the artist, but it was really unknown to me before being recommended on Facebook. The power of social media!

Track 18: “Romeo and Juliet,” by Dire Straits

Considered a classic song by many, “Romeo and Juliet” riffs off the Shakespearean play of the same name. The Dire Straits version is amazing, but I also love the one by the Indigo Girls (listen here). This song is for the literary minded, the broken hearted, and people who just like great music.

Track 19: “BMFA,” by Martha Wainwright

The actual title for this song is a little censored, but multiple folks recommended the song on social media. And I like it. So I’m including it. The song’s opening line is, “Poetry’s no place for a heart that’s a whore.” And eventually there is quite a bit of swearing. If that’s too much, skip this track so the kids can’t hear it. If it’s not, turn up the volume and sing along.

Track 20: “Box Full of Letters,” by Wilco

This is what I call a framing song. The first and final track are both about letter writing. Ha! But seriously, this is a great track that begins, “Got a box full of letters, I think you might like to read…but they’re all addressed to me.” Also, “I just can’t find the time to write my mind the way I want it to read.” And honestly, that about sums up how I often feel as a writer.

*****

Robert Lee Brewer

Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of the poetry collection, Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He edits Poet’s Market and Writer’s Market, in addition to writing a free weekly WritersMarket.com newsletter and a poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine.

He loves writing and music; so this is like his favorite blog post ever.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer. Or follow him on Facebook here.

*****

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