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cinnamontoastcrunch-15 · 3 years ago

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A while ago, I read a oneshot written by the absolutely incredible @engie-ivy titled Always Meant To Come Back (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618893)

They are genuinely one of my favourite wolfstar writers (a far cry from perfect is breaking me into millions of tiny pieces) and this oneshot in particular made me think a lot, particularly about the grieving process that I believe Remus went through during the years before Sirius came back. This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and I guess it’s a fanfic of a fanfic? I’ve decided to finally post my interpretation of everything Remus went through

The original fic has a very happy ending, so go and read it (because it’s incredible, and is also context for this) but this focuses specifically on Remus’ grief, so it doesn’t end in the same place

The context: Sirius left Hogwarts to try to talk Regulus out of being sworn in as a deatheater, and didn’t come back

CW: Major character “death”, panic attack, grief, implication of suicidal thoughts (very light)

A week passed. A week of worrying from the 3 marauders. A week of being unable to pay attention to classes. A week of McGonnagal apologising profusely for having no new updates about Sirius’ whereabouts. A week of concerned glances thrown at the group from the rest of the school.

Until it happened.

Remus had been scanning the Daily Prophet constantly, for some sign of Sirius.

They were pulled out of lesson, around midday on a Tuesday. All three of them, by a more than panicked McGonnagal.

James burst into sobs. Awful, heart wrenching, gut twisting sobs, that tore through his chest and echoed through the office. The sobs of the loss of a brother.

Peter was shaking. He didn’t know what to do with himself, where to go. He cried. Cried at the loss of a best friend. A family member.

Remus.

Remus was at a loss. Nothing but shock. Thick, foggy shock. There was no way.

He didn’t believe her. He couldn’t believe her, not if he wanted to keep going.

“No.” He shook his head, the only one or speak. “No, he- he can’t be, he isn’t, he’s not- he’s not- you’re wrong.“

“I’m so sorry, Remus.” Minerva herself was shaking, having lost a student who meant so much to her. “All accounts were identical.”

“Did you find him? His- his��”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Then how do we know? He can’t be- not Sirius.” His mind had fogged, he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

He tried to register everything. Everything he had just lost. A life of having someone he could really confide in, trust, love with every inch of him. A life with someone by his side, someone who loved him unconditionally, who put up with him at his worst, someone he could have a future with, grow old with, possibly even have kids with one day. Someone he could imagine spending the rest of his life with. His soulmate, his love, his ray of light, the one person that made everything bearable on those hard days. His Sirius.

It took a week. A week of worried glances. A week of no appetite. A week of hiding in a corner of the library to avoid the stares from other people. A week of going through the motions of life, hardly awake, nothing feeling real. 1 week for the grief to hit.

It was something so small that triggered it all. He was in the great hall, Lily watching him sympathetically, concerned, when someone walked past.

“Those are the boys who were friends with the Black heir before he died.” They tried to whisper, but they all heard it, and everything hit Remus in a tidal wave.

He stood up and left, falling apart as everything became real. He was gone. Remus was never going to see the love of his life again. No real goodbye, nothing. He had to learn to live without his soulmate.

He stumbled to the tree by the black lake, the tree he and Sirius had made so many memories by. Where Sirius nervously asked him out for the first time, and Remus kissed him in the rain. Where Remus told Sirius he loved him for the first time. Where Sirius tearfully revealed the truth about his home life, and Remus let him fall apart for the first time, and they really understood how safe they felt together.

He collapsed, a sob ripping through him, attacking him.

Everything that he had somehow kept at bay, the intense grief that felt like thousands of knives stabbing him in the chest, over and over, choking him, stealing the air from his lungs and the light from his eyes finally had its grip around him.

He didn’t hear anybody follow him. It was only when arms wrapped around him, and Mary’s voice rang out, that he realised she was there at all.

“Remus, breathe.”

“He’s actually gone.” Remus sobbed, his heart being ripped out as reality came crashing down on him.

Everything had sunk in, and he almost wished it hadn’t. So Mary held him while he cried, letting him release every tear that hadn’t yet been shed for Sirius.

Remus started disappearing from lessons, spending full days in bed, shutting his eyes and trying to silence the pain in his head.

His parents had been contacted when it had first happened, and he had declined the offer to go home early at the time, not thinking straight, but eventually McGonnagal didn’t give him the choice, and he was sent back to the Welsh countryside to be swallowed up by the intense loneliness that had enveloped him.

He talked to James about it. Only James. James was the only one who felt the same overwhelming grief. The only one who knew him as well as Remus did. They were there for each other. Remus helped James through a series of panic attacks, grounding him, supporting him, and James helped Remus take care of himself, reminding him to eat, talking to him, anything he needed.

His parents tried. They tried so hard, but they couldn’t understand. They didn’t know what it felt like to have your soul ripped out of you at such a young age. Nothing seemed to ease the depression that had seeped into him.

The love of his life had been killed by Deatheaters, and there was a war going on. A war that they were going to fight in. The war had taken Sirius before it had even properly begun, and they were ready to fight.

The funeral felt impossible. Remus spoke.

Standing up in front of everyone was awful, all pitying gazes or grief stricken faces, but he had to do it. He had to do it for Sirius.

“You know, if he were here, he’d probably tell me I didn’t have to do this, because he knew how much I hated public speaking.” He smiled a little, tears shining in his eyes. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss him. That I don’t dream about him, or hear his voice. It’s- he impacted so many of us, in so many ways. He’s the love of my life. Always will be. I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t think I can- I can’t say anything else.” His voice broke, and he went back to his seat, Hope wrapping an arm around him, as he rested his head on her shoulder and cried.

They went through Sirius’ things around a week later. Remus and Peter went to the Potter’s manor for it. They told stories, remembered. It was nice. Upsetting, but nice.

Until they got to the bottom of Sirius’ trunk. Remus pulled out a small velvet box and a folded piece of parchment. He frowned, confused, as he unfolded the note.

I know we’re young, but I know you’re the person I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with

I never thought I would be so lucky to fall in love with my best friend, but

Moons, I love you. We’re leaving Hogwarts, and I want to spend every moment of my life with you, especially with the war

Remus dropped the note, opening the box with shaking hands. There it was. A ring. It looked like silver, but as Remus pulled it out gently, he knew Sirius had taken his lycanthropy into account, and it was something that simply gave the impression of silver. It was studded with amber diamonds and had both the Canis Major and Lupin constellations engraved inside.

“Was he going to…?”

“I- I didn’t want to say anything. Not after… that.”

“Merlin, I-“ he couldn’t help the tears that fell, as James wrapped an arm around him. “He was- I could have-“

“I’m so sorry Remus.” James said, tears falling down his cheeks.

“I can’t live without him, Prongs.”

He wore the ring. Nobody said anything. Everybody understood why. Remus was always going to be Sirius’. He had been taken from Remus before they’d had a chance to build their lives together, and nothing could change the love he felt for Sirius, and always would feel for Sirius. The pain didn’t leave him, didn’t give him relief. It trapped him, attacking him.

Some days it was slightly easier. The days when he threw himself headfirst into dangerous missions, or was distracted by his friends.

Then there were the days he couldn’t get out of bed. When someone would absentmindedly call him Rem, or he would find an old photo of the two of them. The days when the same overwhelming pain would drive it’s way into him.

Hope usually didn’t see him on those days, knowing he liked to be alone, but she tried check in on him.

“Remus? How are you feeling lovely?” Remus could hear her footsteps, listening to her sit on the edge of the bed. He didn’t speak at first, he simply sat up and hugged her.

“I miss him so much.” He forced out, his breath coming in short bursts. “How- how am I supposed to move on?”

“You don’t have to yet. You need time.”

“I just want him back.” He sobbed, shaking, finally saying the things he had kept in his mind, circulating, torturing him since it had happened. “I just want to tell him I love him. I want to do everything again. The good and the bad. Everything.” His voice was raw as he cried.

She couldn’t understand what he was going through. She didn’t know how to stop the all consuming grief when it was at its worst, and Remus knew that she felt guilty for not being able to help him more.

Full moons were bad before, but they had only gotten worse. He usually went to the Potter’s for them, James and Peter still transforming to help him, but they barely spoke after the moons. They were too used to Sirius being there. It just felt wrong without him. Even the wolf seemed to notice the gaping hole in their group.

The 1 year anniversary after it had happened was one of the harder days. He spent most of the day alone, in the dark, trying to hold himself together, without the 1 person who could have made it all bearable.

He only forced himself up when there was a knock at the door, immediately met with his friends holding some sort of takeaway.

“Uh… hi.” He said, slightly unsure, as they all let themselves in. “Come in?” He said sarcastically, as James set the food on the counter.

“We’re having a night in!” Mary said lightly, as James rooted through Remus’ cupboards.

“Christ, Moony, where do you keep your plates? It’s like a bloody maze.” He muttered.

“Um, in that cupboard there.” He walked over and took them out for James.

They spent the evening together, and it made it all a little easier.

His friends were his lifeline. They had all experienced the loss of a family member. They were there to pick up the pieces for each other, and Remus would never be able to express his gratitude to them. They were each other’s support system.

Somehow, the conversation was turned to Sirius. One of them made a throwaway comment, not thinking, and they all went silent. Remus could hear his heart beating heavily, and he closed his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control.

“Remus…” Lily started, and Remus felt a tear fall, followed quickly by another as he dropped his head into his hands, shaking. “Oh, Remus…” She wrapped an arm around him.

“It’s just- it’s still so hard, why- why hasn’t it gotten any easier?” Nobody said anything. Nobody knew. They had all lost Sirius, but none of them knew how it felt to lose your soulmate in the way Remus had. “I don’t want- I don’t want to hurt anymore. I just want it to stop, I don’t want to constantly feel like my heart’s being ripped out my chest, like- like a piece of me went with him.” He spoke in between heavy sobs, and Mary stepped in quickly.

“You know, he was the most helpful student in Hogwarts. I always saw him showing the first years around, or defending them from Mulciber and his gang. He wasn’t even a prefect.” She said fondly.

“Even I had to admire his prank ideas.” Lily added. “I was head girl, but I really couldn’t bring myself to give him detention. His ideas were too interesting.”

“He was so considerate. I mean, I watched him listen to so many upset and stressed students, even people he barely knew, because he was worried about them.” Peter spoke quietly, tentatively, not wanting to make the situation worse accidentally.

They quickly spun the conversation to reminiscing, and the pain in Remus’ chest got a little lighter, and he regained the smallest amount of hope that he could have control over his life again.

Years passed. It was a struggle. He barely made it through the bad days. The days when something would remind him of the love of his life. His soulmate. The days when he would recklessly endanger his life on a mission to try and ease the mind numbing pain just a little.

But he did it. He made it through, with his friends by his side. As impossible as it seemed to him, he survived.

It is a very busy set of ideas, because I had so much I wanted to explore that I wasn’t sure how to go about, and I’m not brilliant at writing angst because it hurts my soul, but it turned out way better than I expected, and I hope you liked it!

#sirius black #marauders #wolfstar #young marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #moony x padfoot #wolfstar oneshot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot #wolfstar angst #major character death #remus loves sirius #sirius black angst

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yesimwriting · 4 years ago

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Falling Angels

A/n this literally poureddd from me, might be bad bc recently i’ve hated everything i’ve written (my drafts are full lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life.

Pairing: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x psychic! sunshine-y! reader

Warning: mentions of sexual harassment, slight cursing, near death experience

Enjoy it, because it doesn’t last. That’s what the older girls whisper, mock casualness attempting to disguise bitter undertones as I walk past them. They say this, sharp nails ready to be covered in blood as red as their lipstick, because the pile of gifts from my ‘admirers’ keep coming. Circus hands keep approaching the long vanity in the dressing room tent, tapping me on the shoulder politely to shove cards and bouquets of flowers in my lap. They don’t understand that the praise isn’t because the patrons of our performances find me more beautiful--they’re desperate for my favor. They’re desperate to know their future.

Looking at myself in the mirror, the pageantry of it all has not yet grown old to me. My hair is still in the process of being styled, my stage makeup is half done, and I am not yet coated in that golden shimmer Senia always dusts across my cheeks and shoulders. But I am more enhanced than I normally am, eyes made bright by thick coats of mascara, cupid's bow made prominent by ruby lipstick. The lip look is more daring than I’ve been before, but there can’t be much harm in change. Not when half the women here keep looking at me like I’m the saint of virginity.

It’s not my fault that the Ringmaster thought an angelic aesthetic would work best for the fortune teller who walks around before the show, reading palms so that people can have their pockets picked. It’s not my fault people want an angel to take the stage and call people down from the audience to get a detailed reading around the crowded circus tent. I don’t pick the costumes, and while I acknowledge that mine shows the least amount of skin, the Ringmaster found a way to dress me as suggestively as possible without ruining the illusion of innocence.

At least the flowing tulle wings that are stitched into the back of my costume are beautiful. It’s easier when I enjoy the good.

“Y/n!” The familiar call of Senia. I turn my head, beaming. “You’re a vision, and all of those jealous girls--you can tell them to take their wrinkling faces and--”

“Seria.” For someone so much like a mother, she often needs to be reminded that not everything needs an aggressive rebuttal. “Think about it from their perspectives--their entire existence is dependent on how sellable they are, how attractive they are to men who only want to use them. If that makes them mad at me because they feel like my youth and novelty is taking from them, then that’s okay.” She raises a fine eyebrow. “I can take a few mean words.”

Seria purses her lips. “Okay, but I’m just as old and tired and you don’t see me trying to poison you.”

I roll my eyes.

“Look, it's our very own saint.” I roll my eyes, Via’s shrill voice piercing through me like an annoying papercut. “And in such a scandalous lip color--has the Ringmaster finally taken you to the ivory tent?”

Ivory tent. It’s been mentioned to me before and always in jest. “Where he takes me is none of your business, if not being the favorite hurts you so badly ju--”

She laughs, the sound is pure vile. “Being the favorite is the worst thing you could be in a place like this. You’re shiny and new and soon you’ll be as used as the rest of us--Seria’s use is waning, what happened to her today is proof of that. Soon you’ll have no one to protect you.”

When she looks at me I see more pain than hatred. “I think we’d get along better if I had it in me to hate you.”

She raises an eyebrow before shaking a cigarette from a small box into her palm. “You’ll get there, princess.”

The nickname leaves me burning. There’s nothing more consuming than fire. “You better pray to the real Saints I don’t.”

via laughs, lifting the cigarette to her lips and lighting it with her abilities. She walks away, turning my threat into that of a child’s.

“She’s right on two accounts.” Seria hums, “The Ringmaster will kill you if you wear that lipstick and Ketterdam turns people like you into people like me. We could save up, pay off your indenture--get you out.”

Seria doesn’t need to make sacrifices like that. Not for me. Besides, there’s no leaving Ketterdam for me. Not anymore. “Being like you wouldn’t be a bad thing.” I scratch my arm, see through material wrinkling as a result. “And I can’t--I can’t just leave. I’m a psychic, no Grisha can see the future. I need the facelessness of Ketterdam.” Her lips thin in protest. “And don’t think I didn’t hear what she said about you--what happened to your foot, and what’s in the ivory tent? People keep saying it, whispering it like there’s--”

“That tent is nothing that will ever concern you. I’ve given you my guidance, and the one thing I ask is that you never ask or go to the ivory tent.”

I swallow once, the intensity in her eyes leaving me raw. “What if he tells me to?”

“He won’t.” Seria breathes. “He doesn’t like that for you.”

This isn’t an argument I can have now, not with two minutes until the show starts. “And your foot?”

She shrugs, holding up a bandaged ankle. “You get older, your ligaments like the tightrope walk less and less. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not tightrope walking like that--”

“Yes, I am. The Ringmaster doesn’t know and he can’t--if I start giving him performance trouble--you don’t know what happens to the girls who can’t pay off their indenture by performing.”

I swallow once. “You’ll be careful?”

“Always,” she grins, “Besides--one day you’ll know enough about tightrope walking to help me on days like this.”

The last time I trained on the mini-tightrope had proven me to be a disappointment. Still, I smile at her softly. I open my mouth to respond, but a quick tap to my shoulder silences me.

“Miss,” a circus hand I recognize begins.

I smile politely. “Please leave any gifts on my vanity--”

“It’s not a gift,” he mumbles, voice taut, “You have visitors.”

Something solid pushes itself into my chest, wedging itself between my lungs. Have they found me? “I-I don’t take visitors. Not before shows, if someone wants a private reading they’re to go to my tent at the front--”

“We’re not here for readings or any of the other lies you sell.”

...Surprising. I let my gaze move from the face of the circus hand and towards the individuals behind him. A man, tall and dressed in business attire--hat and all. His face is all sharp angles and his eyes are emotionless. His leather-gloved hands grip the head of an intricate cane. Next to him is another tall man, dressed a little more casually, with dark curls. Lastly, there’s a girl, with oil-black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail.

“Then what are you here for?”

Seria, never one to leave me unattended around strange men, takes a step in front of me. “I know who you are, Dirtyhands, and I know there’s no business you could find with her.”

What? Dirtyhands? Can people in Ketterdam ever just be normal?

“I wouldn’t speak so certainly.” I don’t like the way his eyes narrow at Seria or the way his grip on the cane tightens.

Thoughtlessly, I stick a hand between them, forcing Seria back slightly. “I apologize, she’s protective--always assuming the worst in people. Though considering she called you ‘Dirtyhands’, maybe that’s what you want.”

Ugh. All I do is ramble when I most definitely shouldn’t. “Want what?”

Eyebrows drawing together, I force myself to hold his gaze. “For people to assume the worst.”

The response seems to confuse him. That’s okay--I’ll take anything over aggressive. “The only people I want to assume the worst are those I want to be right.”

Okay. Dramatic was a fair assumption.

“Seria.” Oh no. I know that voice. I know that voice too well. “They tell me you're injured.”

Seria stiffens, as does every performer when he addresses them. “Not too injured to perform, sir.”

The Ringmaster sneers. “I can’t risk you falling and embarrassing me. Perhaps tonight you’ll make your money by spending the entire show in the ivory tent.”

The way she hardens wrenches my gut. I press my hands to avoid reaching out for her. “I can do the tightrope.” The Ringmaster’s gaze shifts towards me. “I can do it--and I can do it well and I’ll give the profit to Seria.”

He tilts his chin, regarding me in a way a woman should never be regarded. He’s a predator and I’m a lamb that’s lost its way. Still, I hold his gaze. I don’t flinch, even when he moves to brush his knuckles along my cheek. His touch is acid. Pure, burning acid. “The wings I placed on your back are decorative.”

“I don’t need them.” Total bullshit.

“Hm,” he breathes, letting the smell of alcohol fill the space between us, “I’ll allow it.” The Ringmaster drops his hand to his side. “Wipe that lipstick off your face before someone mistakes you for one of these common whores.”

How I don’t throw up at the sight of him is a miracle in itself. By some small mercy, he turns and walks away before I have to respond.

“You’re an idiot--you know you’re not ready for the tightrope.”

“There’s a net,” I try to keep my voice light, dismissive. She remains tense. “Seria, I had to.”

“No, you could have--”

“It’s not fair that you’re always a shield for me. When the opportunity to shield you for once comes, I’ll take it.” Turning before she can protest, I try to walk forward. The stranger places his cane where I intend to walk, intentionally warning me that he decides when our conversation is over. Unfortunately, I used up all my patience with the Ringmaster. “130 kruge.” He raises an eyebrow. “That’s the estimated amount I’ll make tonight, unless I’m late and excluded from the show. Either make up the deficit you’ll be costing me or let me go.”

His eyebrows draw together, shifting his expression from neutrally calloused to something much darker. “Kaz.” This comes from the girl. She takes a step forward. “Look one step ahead.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everyone thinks you’re not supposed to look down, but looking up is just as impractical.” She pauses, expression strangely mesmerized, “Look one step ahead--not at your feet.”

My genuine smile shocks me. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you, Sankta y/n.” Her head bows, hands held together as if in prayer.

Oh. She’s one of the religious that believes me an actual Saint. “I appreciate the sentiment, but if I was a Saint I’d be able to help people.” No matter what I do, no matter how much blood I offer, I can never help people. “And as you’ve seen--I can’t.”

The crowd’s roaring is a different world to me. On the platform, feet away from the other wooden structure acting as solid ground, everything is different. I am now in a world where the only thing to believe in is a taut rope. The net is beneath me. I’ve seen it--I’ve checked it.

“And for our grand finale!” The Ringmaster calls, voice billowing over an excited crowd. “Our very own angel defies death!”

An odd way to phrase the tightrope walk. It’s never called ‘defying death’. I had been surprised when I was told that tonight the tightrope walk would be the grand finale--I assumed it was because it featured me. I’m always the finale now. I try to move my foot off the platform but it’s planted firmly. No. I need to see Seria--I need to see who I’m doing this for. I force my gaze to the ground, panic rising in my chest.

Instead of Seria, I see Via--her smirk apparent even from here. Spite’s a decent motivator. My foot descends off the platform, touching the tightrope cautiously. And then I move my other foot. All of me is now on this damn rope. I hadn’t been unforgivably horrible during practice, but I hadn’t been graceful either.

Don’t look down, don’t look up--only look one step ahead. One step ahead--one step at a time. Balance. I take another step. The room is so silent there’s no doubt in my mind the sound of my bones cracking would be heard from the back row. But there’s the net. There’s always the net. I take a second step. And then a third--eyes focused on only one step ahead.

And then the phantom of flame comes to claim me. Fire. The world around me is burning. Damning the consequences, I let my gaze fall to the world beneath me. The net--the Ringmaster had an Inferni light the net on fire. Via--that explains the look.

I can’t fall--the guilt would kill Seria.

Panic twists my stomach as I continue forward. One step ahead. One step ahead--the flames lick upwards, promising pain and grief all over again. One step ahead. One step--that’s all there is to it. The warmth of the fire calls to me. Burning. Burning--and one more step. This isn’t forever. This isn’t permanent--either way this will soon be over.

There’s no miracle for me. No good grace, no wings that would let me save myself. There is only balance.

One step ahead. And then another step. And then I see the other wooden platform. Thank the Saints. I grip the ladder of the platform as quickly as possible. The cheers mean nothing to me as I scurry down the ladder.

I feel a sharp breeze, a Grisha putting out the flames. Anger pools in my chest as I move towards the exit of the tent.

“Y/n.” No. Not him again. That man--Kaz, Dirtyhands, whoever he is--needs to go away. “Y/n.” I turn sharply, anger pulsing through me. My expression must be feral, because he stalls. “They didn’t tell you that they were going to burn the net.”

The fact that he can tell--that he can see my panic and how close I came to death twists my anger into something more fragile. “No.” My posture straightens. “I need to go now, I do--I do readings after shows.”

“Y/n.” He repeats, firmer.

My nails dig into my palms. “I’m going--”

“I know what you are.”

Tensing, my breathing stalls. “What?”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kazz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows x you #soc imagine #six of crows imagine #my works #series #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #sab netflix #grishaverse imagine

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chocoholicannanymous · 4 years ago

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If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVII

This is the penultimate part. The last one is written and drafted - I did finish while on vacation. Expect it for next weekend.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV and pt XVI.

It's as everything happens in May. Kurt feels as if he should be used to it by now, but this year is worse than any before. It's understandable, he guesses, what with it being his senior year, but understanding doesn't help. Some of the squares on his wall calendar has so many things on them they're barely legible, and there are days when he wants to just quit it all.

He can always work in his dad's garage for the rest of his life. Surely that's not the worst thing ever?

The only reason he's not a complete wreck when Nationals comes is the Warblers meeting held right after Regionals where David had used logic (how dare he) and suggested their approach to Nationals.

Kurt's first, immediate reaction is “we're never going to win with that” which he also says out loud, only to be met by “so what”.

“I don't say this lightly. I've been a Warbler for four years. It's been amazing to be surrounded by all of these talented people, and make music just because we like it, and that's why I've kept it up even with all the hints I've gotten that my 'future career' would be better served by me spending that time on learning another language or studying harder. After all, what use is singing and dancing for a lawyer?”

There's a bitterness in David's voice, and it's echoed in a number of murmurs around the room.

“This is the one thing I do for fun, that I do just for me, and some days the only thing that makes slogging through my mountain of homework bearable is knowing that once I'm done I can go enjoy Warblers. This year's group hold more talent of all my years here, which is why it hurts to say that I don't think we can win, no matter what setlist we go on with. We're simply not the kind of group that wins a contest like this.”

Which, probably true. The Warblers are good, yes, but they're an all boys a capella group performing in uniforms. They don't have the productions that teams who wins Nationals do. Doesn't mean that it hurts just as much to hear as it hurts to say.

“The truth is – and I'm sorry, I know we don't talk about him, but I have to – the truth is that we didn't even compete before Blaine.”

Kurt expects it to sting to hear his name. It does, but not much. He's moving past that.

“Blaine walked in here and wanted to compete so badly. He spent his first semester here trying to talk us into trying, even with all the reasons we had for not going so, and he got his way. That doesn't change the fact that this is only our second year competing, and we've surpassed all expectations by making it to Nationals. To do so again and win, or even place in the top... I don't think we can do that, not even with all the talent in this room.”

No one likes hearing that, but no one's disagreeing either. They aren't going to win. That's just how it is.

“So why not do that we like? Why don't we pick songs we like and that showcases our strengths? Why don't we sing a song that will make you happy, Kurt? And if it knocks us down in the ranking to do so, who cares? I don't.”

To hear someone say that Kurt's happiness should matter more than placement – to hear David say it, after everything the year before – causes tears to well up in his eyes. To hear every single Warbler agree make those tears fall.

They'd walked out of that meeting stronger than they'd gone in, and Kurt lets himself gather strength from that memory for a few seconds before he steps forward and lets his voice soar.

“Something has changed within me, something is not the same / I'm through with playing by the rules, of someone else's game”

They finish eleventh. It's better than they'd dared to hope, with all the absolutely excellent teams competing. It the joy is tinged with a little bitterness? Who can blame them? Maybe, more than one of them wonders, a more conventional setlist could have placed them among the top ten. At the same time they're all aware that maybe it would have have placed them dead last. There's no way of telling, and no use speculating.

They did their best, enjoyed their performance and finished eleventh at Nationals. That's nothing to look down on. In fact...

“We did better than New Directions last year” Kurt says with a smirk.

They've beaten his old team, his so-called friends, in every way possible and he allows himself to see that as a win.

Finn posts video of all their songs on his Facebook and is proud (and smug) enough to also post the “Defying Gravity” performance in the Glee group with a comment about how Kurt obviously could hit that note, tagging both Rachel and Mr Schue. It's petty, and Kurt should be big enough of a person to ask Finn to remove it, but no. If his brother wants to stand up for him Kurt isn't just going to let him, he's going to be grateful.

Feeling loved and protected is not something he's ever going to scoff at.

Nationals is followed by finals, the less said about the better, and then prom. Or well, “the Dalton Academy and Crawford County Day Joint Spring Formal”. Same thing right?

Wrong.

The spring formal is every thing junior prom wasn't. It's not really the fact that Sebastian asks Kurt properly to be his date for the formal, and compliments his outfit. It's not that even without decorations Dalton's auditorium is more grand than McKinley's gym. It's not even the grand dinner with lit candles, waiters and three courses before the dance or that there's a band that plays waltzes and foxtrot for the first two hours before the DJ is allowed to take over.

It's that even before they've entered the transformed dining hall Kurt spots half a dozen same-sex couples, a number that keeps going up during the evening. It's the fact that he gets to dance the whole evening, not in a group or with a girl, but with Sebastian and the occasional Warbler. Mostly it's Sebastian's arms he's in, and it's amazing.

It's so far from his junior prom and Blaine that it almost hurts.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No. Everything is... This year everything is perfect.”

Sebastian doesn't look entirely convinced, but decides to drop it and instead lean closer for a kiss.

The evening really is perfect.

The morning of his birthday Kurt walks into the dining hall alone only to be met with a table full of Warblers that stand up and sing for him as soon as he clears the door. There's one place left at the table, next to Sebastian, set with the kind of breakfast not even Dalton serves (fresh croissant, strawberries, a piece of brie and a one-person pot of tea) with a rainbow rose in a vase. Kurt sits down with a smile and leans over to kiss his boyfriend's cheek.

“So, rainbow roses are going to be our thing, is it? I love it.”

He spends the day with a smile on his lips, because his boyfriend took the time to do something special for him on his birthday and his friends have promised cake in the Warblers' room after dinner, and he feels loved.

“Cake” turns out to be cheesecake and presents, and more singing, and so much more smiling. Afterwards Sebastian walks him back to his room. There's no kissing though, which Kurt finds unacceptable.

“Isn't there some kind of rule that you get kisses on your birthday? I would have thought that was a part of the boyfriend experience, and to be honest I'm feeling very much unkissed.”

That nets him a crooked smile, but still no kisses. It's almost enough to worry him.

“You can have all the kisses you want, and not just on your birthday, you know that babe. However, there's something else I wanted you to have first.”

Sebastian pulls out a small package from him pocket and hands it over with a smile, which begins to fade when Kurt doesn't immediately take it. It's just, well.

“Another present? You shouldn't have.”

“Another? What do you mean?”

The truth is that Kurt fully expected breakfast and a rose to be the whole of Sebastian's congratulations, and he doesn't quite know how to take getting more than that. He doesn't really know how to explain it though, and definitely not in a way that won't start Sebastian on another rant about how Blaine was unworthy of Kurt's affection. Especially since it's not just about him.

Turns out he doesn't need to say anything – and apparently he's getting yet another present in the form of the absence of that rant.

“Breakfast was a treat. This is your actual present, which I hope you'll like at least as much as that.”

Sebastian looks a little worried as Kurt removes the paper and opens the small box inside (and if he's a little shaky to open a jewelry box from his boyfriend no one needs to know). It's a pair of gorgeous cufflinks with just the right balance between classy and unique and he absolutely loves them.

“These are amazing! They're too much, really, but they're so gorgeous that I'm going to pretend they're not. I love them!” I love you. But that's a bit too early to say, and so instead he leans forward and does his absolute best to communicate exactly that through kissing.

#chocoholic fics #kurt fic #kurt hummel #sebastian smythe #kurtbastian #itshtf

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indiaalphawhiskey · 4 years ago

Note

I respectfully disagree with your last post (as an author). I’ve been in this fandom for 6 years and noticed it’s a little bit toxic when it comes to certain issues that should be normal and obvious to anyone.

I don’t get the “I choose the people I want to take criticism from” part. Ok, so why posting your work on a public page for independent writers where every subscriber will be able to read it and comment on it? Just send it to the people whose opinion matters to you and have a discussion about your work with them. If you post your work on a public page made specifically for independent writers, you are automatically posting it for everyone on that site. And every person has opinions on things and feels invited to express it if that particular thing is public and comments are open (I’m talking about respectful opinions, not slurs and offending someone).

If it was only for you and the people you actually want to get feedback from then wouldn’t it be easier to create an “élite” group where you read your work and then discuss it together? Because your post sends a very negative and exclusionary message to people that are reading your work for the first time or without knowing you as an author. It really seems like you are saying “dear readers, your opinion doesn’t matter to me so unless it’s positive I don’t want to hear it because this fanfic was written for me and this list of people.” Then don’t post it. But why making people feel excluded or bad because they did something normal just because they didn’t know it wasn’t written “for them” as you said in your post. And constructive criticism is just an opinion too as long as it doesn’t contain vulgarities, you don’t have to listen to it. Other’s opinion shouldn’t change the way you feel about your work but you also shouldn’t make them feel uncomfortable and bad for expressing it in a respectful way on a public page.

I know that authors on AO3 aren’t paid and that’s just for fun, but that’s what every page like AO3 is about: putting your work out there for other people to read with the possibility to express their personal opinion in a respectful way (I mean, you CAN disable the comments). Why making it public and then complaining and making other people feel bad for expressing their opinion on it? It’s not a diary or a personal Instagram profile.

So, first off, thank you for saying you respectfully disagree with me. I appreciate that you’re trying to be polite.

There are many different ways I can answer this ask, because there’s a lot to discuss here, however, I’m exhausted by this conversation and have tackled it many times before, so I’ll link things when I see fit and get straight to the point.

My question for you is this: What is the purpose of you posting negative (even though well-worded, polite, and tactful) unsolicited comments on a person’s fanfic? Why do you do it?

That’s not a rhetorical question, I really want you to think about the answer, because, for something to be called “constructive criticism” (which is specifically what we’re discussing here, versus the opposite “destructive” criticism) there has to be a point beyond just the fact that “it’s a public forum” and therefore, you feel entitled to express your opinion, whatever it may be. (That reasoning, btw, is called entitlement. No one said you weren’t allowed to have an opinion, but if you’re saying it to the author with no constructive, bettering purpose behind it, then at worst, your intent is to hurt them, which is just mean, no matter how politely you word it, and at best, you’re saying your opinions and preference take precedent over the author’s own.)

There are three reasons that I assume one can have when posting constructive criticism on work/art:

1. You want to help make them be a better writer, both now and in the future.

I, and other fellow authors, explain why this doesn’t work here and here, and there are more posts about it like this one, if you need to hear it from voices that are not from the Larry fandom (which I assume you do, since you said this is a little bit toxic here particularly.)

I encourage you to read all those posts, to get a better explanation in context, but the gist of them is this: for something to be truly constructive (synonym: helpful), the source, the timing, and the tact is key. Let me demonstrate: There is a difference between telling a friend while shopping, “I wouldn’t buy that dress, it’s not the most flattering on you,” and saying, while you’re out at a club, “Oh, that dress isn’t the most flattering on you, I wouldn’t wear it again.” -- Both are honest, worded politely, and both will achieve the same outcome: she will not wear the dress again -- but only one of them will cause undue stress, embarrassment, and self-consciousness (under the guise of being helpful), and that is all due to tact and timing. At the store, she can change into something else, and won’t assume you think she looks awful the entire day while you’re out. At the club, the damage is done, there is nothing she can do to change it, and you’ve just ruined her night.

The same goes for writing. I have seen people gracefully and willingly rewrite their entire first drafts based on astute and even harsh comments on their work, by their betas. I have never seen someone take down a fic and edit it based on a piece of constructive criticism given by a stranger on AO3. What I have seen based on that scenario, is people taking that criticism to heart and reflecting on whether or not they ever want to write again, because when they made themselves vulnerable, some people looked at it as an opportunity to ask for what would cater best to their own tastes, instead of appreciating the work as a true product of the author’s personal feelings and experiences. That results in less writers for the fandom, less content, and a whole lot of undue discouragement which is not something we want (nor is it actually constructive).

2. You want to engage the author in a deeper discussion of their work.

This is in direct answer to this part of your ask:

It really seems like you are saying “dear readers, your opinion doesn’t matter to me so unless it’s positive I don’t want to hear it because this fanfic was written for me and this list of people.”

You feel passionate (both positively and negatively) about my work? That’s lovely. I say, start a discussion with me. Ask me questions. Learn why I made those decisions. A discussion starts with an invitation to have a conversation (two ways, you say something, I say something, rinse repeat). It doesn’t start with “I didn’t like” or “This could have been better if”, and it certainly doesn’t start in a public forum, like the comments on AO3, where the writer runs the risk of looking like a defensive asshole.

But India, you say, what if I don’t have the means to have a private conversation/the writer doesn’t have tumblr/they’ve long since been inactive in the fandom? The answers are, respectively: leave a polite comment asking if they’re willing to discuss, if they are willing to discuss, leave a polite comment asking how to contact them, and if they’re no longer active, find other friends with which to discuss your feelings in private.

But India, that seems like so much work. It is, flat out. But if you really felt that strongly about something I wrote, you would make that effort to understand it. Otherwise, why not just walk away?

3. You don’t know better.

I found this part of your ask extremely interesting:

“But why making people feel excluded or bad because they did something normal just because they didn’t know it wasn’t written “for them” as you said in your post.”

The reason I found it interesting is because it means that there are people who assume that all work that is public was made for them, to suit their tastes, which is, frankly, a bizarre way to consume art. I do not go into The Louvre, look at the Mona Lisa and say “I don’t see the hype, it’s not something I would hang in my living room.” I look at it and think “What does this piece say about Da Vinci and his life? What has this brought to the world? How has this helped people/art/culture?”

(No, I am in no way comparing my talents to Da Vinci, I am not delusional. But, I don’t think my work deserves any less thought than that of a professional artist, simply because I’m an amateur and it’s on the internet and not in a gallery, and you have the superpower of anonymity.) You asked me what the point was in posting my work publicly if I didn’t want to hear every single person’s personal (negative) take on it, and the answer is this: I post what I write publicly, because I hope it helps someone. I hope my thoughts, feelings, experiences, loneliness validate someone, entertain them, help them through a tough time, bring them comfort. I post because I want to invite people to lose themselves alongside me, heal alongside me, dream alongside me.

(Notice how I said “someone” and not “everyone”. How I said “someone” and not “an élite group that discusses my work”, because yes, I do hope that my work positively impacts someone outside of my betas, my friend group. Does that mean someone can leave negative comments on my work? Yes. But should they? That’s a different question.)

I know my work won’t be a positive experience for every single person, but my goal was never to be relevant to every single person. So, my question is, if I’m not relevant to you personally -- if my work doesn’t touch you personally, heal you personally, entertain you personally, why not just walk away and find something that does? Who does your negative opinion really help? How is it constructive? What is its purpose? Why do you do it?

I will apologize for this, though: I spoke on behalf of all writers, and maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have been clear that though many writers feel this way, not all do. There are some, such as, I assume, yourself, who do view negative comments on AO3 as constructive, whether or not they are solicited, and I’m sorry to have spoken on behalf of you. However, I do still stand by this, though: it is much better to be kind than be right, and that definitely goes for comments on fic.

#concrit #writing thoughts #constructive criticism #iaw ask #iaw anonymous #iaw opinion #long post

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junietc · 5 years ago

Text

car rides with you - peter parker

peter parker x reader

pairing: peter parker/spiderman x reader

word count: 6567

warning: swearing, some asshole who doesn’t know how to respect women, and fluffffff

a/n: i’ve had this in my drafts for way too long so i decided to finish it before i forgot it ever existed. its really long but i hope you’ll enjoy a one shot with our favourite little peter benjamin parker :)

send in requests and share your love ~

If you were being honest, it wasn’t like you needed Peter to drive you to and from school each day. You had options. You could take the bus or ask your dad to pick you up or even walk. But having a personal chauffeur didn’t hurt, and if he was so nice as to offer it, then how could you say no?

Plus, it was on his way. Sort of. It was only a detour of about a block; maybe less a detour and more an alternate route? Either way, his apartment complex was hardly two minutes away. Five minutes to walk, three with your bike, six if you hobble over with a tweaked ankle.

This was a route you’ve been intimately familiar with since you became best friends in the seventh grade. Back when your hair was barely past your ears after a platinum blonde mishap (you still immediately dyed it green after lobbing off half of it) and Peter was wearing the same hideous Star Wars sweater every day. Somehow, both of you believed these fashion choices would help improve your social status.

Both of you were delusional.

Luckily, by ages sixteen (you) and seventeen (Peter, by default), you’d come to your senses. Sure, Peter’s penchant for sweaters persisted – why would any one person need five of what was basically the same sweater? – but you grew your hair back out and kept its inoffensive natural colour. And neither of you wore shirts with puns on them. Not anymore.

Earlier this year, back when you were still sophomores, Peter passed his driver’s test. Now with a full license and his aunt’s old sedan, he’s taken the habit of waking up the whole neighbourhood with his obnoxious honking.

Okay, maybe not the entire neighbourhood. Really, just you.

Still, today was no different.

“Hey, Peter,” you yelled out as you swung the door open, “How about shutting the fuck up?”

You shoved your feet into your shoes and scrambled out, backpack dangling off the crook of your elbow and burnt toast between your teeth as you try to shut the door. Peter leaned across to push open the passenger door so that you could throw your things into the backseat. Papers flew out of the half-zipped bag and spilled onto the floor.

“For the expletives, I’m afraid I’ll have to only give you a three-star passenger rating,” Peter quipped.

You frowned deeply, pulling the seatbelt. The mechanism got stuck, and you had to pull it out a few more times again. Peter just grinned at you, clearly taking joy in your glares.

“So, ready for the chem test?” he asked, shifting the gears.

You rolled your eyes, knowing very well that you had sent him a distressed voice message at four in the morning of you crying, saying how you were going to fail, but decided to respond as nicely as possible. “Fuck off.”

He chuckled. He pulled up to the intersection, slowing down but not stopping at the sign.

You mock gasped. “Wow, illegal. Imagine if there were cops. I’m going to have to give you two stars. I can’t have my Uber driver potentially getting arrested.”

He sighed, shoving you with his free hand. You almost scolded him for not keeping both hands on the wheel (one star!), but he began talking before you could. “You should know, that if I ever was sent to jail, it would never be for something as lame as not stopping at a stop sign”

You snorted before rolling your eyes. “Oh? What would it be for then? Pirating video games?”

“Exactly.” He winked exaggeratedly; you shoved his face to focus back on the road. You looked down at the charred toast, which had been sprinkling crumbs all over your lap. It was far from appetizing, but your stomach growled, and you decided to scarf it down – it was that or no breakfast at all.

Peter laughed at the wince you tried to stomach what was basically a brick of carbon. (Honestly, he laughed at your expense a lot. Some friend.) “I really don’t know why you haven’t just started waking up earlier. I mean, I pick you up at the same time every day and-”

“Okay dad. I’ll start waking up earlier,” you lied.

“I hope you know that I know, you’re lying.”

You flipped him off.

-----

Lunch seemed to be the only time that you and MJ ever got to hang out at school, so you took pride in making the most of your conversations.

The two of you shared a laugh and through your peripheral vision, you saw Ned and Peter waving at you before coming to sit down. “So, what are we talking about?” Ned asked as you turned to face them with a smile.

“Where MJ is going to hide my body after she kills me,” you notice her crack a smile as Ned and Peter both give you strange looks. “I was thinking maybe throw me in a river, but she thinks that burying me twenty feet underground would make it harder for the cops to find.”

The two boys looked at you apprehensively as MJ chuckled as you grinned cheerfully. “Should I be concerned?” Peter asked before you all laughed.

“Anyways. I was thinking of finally taking my driver’s test. I decided might as well get it over with no?” MJ and Ned both nodded at your suggestion, MJ even mumbling something among the lines of “finally”. Peter on the hand looked, well, skeptical.

“You want to take it now? Out of the blue? Why? I thought you wanted to wait until you had a job,” he questioned.

After taking another sip of the juice box you managed to steal from Ned, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I might as well get it over with. I mean, it’s been well over six months since my written test and I’ve been practicing enough with you and my dad, so I should be fine.”

Peter nodded, though a slight frown still prominent on his face. The conversation steered over to a completely different topic when Ned brought up the chemistry test causing you to pretend to bawl and everyone to laugh.

After lunch had ended, you said your goodbyes to Ned and MJ as you and Peter stopped at your locker. You were in the midst of grabbing your book when he sighed heavily, causing you to stare at him. “You know if you really wanted me to stop driving you, you could have just said so,” his voice was offended as you scoffed.

“What? Where would you get that idea from idiot?”

Huffing slightly, he shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe when you said you wanted to finally get your license.”

“Are you serious? I’ve been meaning to get my license for the past few months you dummy. Plus, I can’t count on you to drive me everywhere. You’re busy with your own life, you know with that Stark internship and everything. Not to mention, you’re still going to have to drive me to school, since I don’t even have a car,” you roll your eyes at the boy.

A light smile started to tug on his lips. “Alright. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to get rid of me,” he joked as you snorted in response.

“Oh trust me, I’ve been trying since the day I met you,” Peter pouts as you flicked him in the forehead. “Stop with that face. You know I suck up to how cute each time,” his cheeks tinged a pinkish hue as you ruffled his hair and laughed.

“O-Oh. Yeah, haha. Sorry,” he murmured as you started to walk in the opposite direction. He caught up with you before heading over to English – which truly was your worst subject – and sitting next to each other.

Peter fiddled with his pencil for the most of class while you aggressively took notes, wishing that Mr. Petersons would slow down and breathe.

“Alright class. That’s it for today but if everyone could just pick their partners for the project and try and get started over the weekend, that would be great,” as he dismissed everyone, you and Peter turned to each other, giving a silent acknowledgement that you were each other’s partner.

Heading out of the classroom, you and Peter both went your separate ways. “See you after school!” you waved before heading to History.

History was blur of numbers, years and dead people that you were going to have to remember for an upcoming test, so you were thankful that the clock had finally read 3:00. Your teacher finally dismissed you, causin you to rush to the parking lot, seeing Peter already sitting in the front seat. “Hey there Parker,” you knocked on the window as he smiled and unlocked the door.

“Hey, how was history?” rolling your eyes, you told him about the dumb test you were going to have to study for. He laughed as he buckled his seatbelt, “well at least you have the weekend to study for it. Speaking of which. When do you want to meet to work on the English project?”

Sighing slightly at the reminder that you had other things you also had to work on, you bit your lip. “Are you cool with Saturday? I’ll just walk over, maybe at like three or four,” Peter nodded as he started the car.

“Sounds good to me.”

------

Swinging around Queens was always a nice break for Peter, seeing all of the buildings and feeling almost weightless was a nice distraction from all of his studies and duties but he always seemed to forget the time when he was doing so.

Cue Peter – well Spiderman I guess – hurriedly swinging back to his apartment when he received a text from you saying you were at his door. “Shit, shit, shit!” he swore, finally reaching his window and climbing in.

As he changed to some regular clothing, May’s voice echoed throughout the little apartment, talking to you as footsteps approached. “He’s been in his room for quite a while. I’m not sure what he’s been up to,” Peter was frantically trying to search for a shirt in his mess of a room when the footsteps got closer. “I have some muffins I baked earlier on the counter, feel free to have one if you get hungry. I’ll be off for a bit so just call if you –” May’s voice seems to be getting closer when she suddenly opened the door, revealing you staring at him, neck immediately snapping to turn the other direction. Peter tried covering himself with a pillow as May immediately said she had to go and left you both alone, very uncomfortable.

You stood there, unsure of what to do and more so, where to look. Though obviously you looked away and allowed Peter to have his privacy finding a shirt, you couldn’t help but think of his shirtless figure. Since when did he start working out? ‘When did he get those abs? Is this the same Peter that literally dropped me during a drama performance last year?’ you thought to yourself, cheeks tinging pink as Peter finally put on a shirt.

“Hey, um – sorry about that. I was just –”

“Nope! It’s alright. We can just forget this ever happened,” you rushed to say, shaking your head.

Peter blushed before nodding. “Right. Let’s just erase the last two minutes from our brain.”

You swung your legs as you sat on his bed. “You weren’t doing anything weird right? Because I know that guys - “

“That’s not what I was doing! I was just changing,” he shook his head as you laughed. “Asides from that. Do you want to start working on the project?” You nodded as the two of you got to work.

– a few hours later –

You were both hard at work, basically finished the first two parts of the project, leaving only the last section left when you flopped onto Peter’s bed dramatically. “I’m so exhausted,” you whined, as Peter chuckled.

“We only have one more part to do and we’re practically done the project, so do you want to finish it now?” Peter asked, still typing in his laptop.

You pursed your lips, pondering on the idea of that but shook your head ultimately. “Nah. I’m tired. Plus, we’ve been working our asses off the past three hours. I just need to breathe.”

Peter laughed at your dramatics before he asking question. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

Obviously agreeing to a break in any form, you nodded eagerly and headed over to the living room. You managed to steal a blanket from his bed and bundled yourself up as Peter turned on the television. “So, what are we watching?” he asked, flipped through the collection of old DVD’s.

“Can we watch Star Wars?” he pleaded as you rolled your eyes, this was probably the third time this month he wanted to watch Star Wars, but you agreed to it anyways.

“Fine, just don’t be annoying about it again.”

------

The weekend seemed to breeze by with you desperately trying to study for the history test, and with only a few mental breakdowns and a couple thousand replays of your favourite song, you were ready.

Obviously, you severely underestimated how cruel Ms. Gail could have possibly been and left the classroom wanting to punch yourself, or her, in the face.

Luckily you didn’t have to endure another class seeing as the day was over and you could get home to your bed to cry in private. But before that of course, you were forced to see Peter’s face.

A light smile was etched on his face as you settled in the car. “So how was the –”

“Don’t bring it up. I am already debating whether or not I should throw myself off a building,” you groaned, leaning your head back on the seat. Peter laughed before trying to reassure you that it really couldn’t have been that bad, but you responded with, “no it really was. I honestly think I only got one or two answers right.”

Trying to raise your spirits, an idea popped in his head. “Do you want to get sandwiches at Mr. Delmar’s? Maybe that’ll lighten up your mood,” he suggested as a bright grin formed on your face. As devastated as you were, you were sure that a full stomach would make everything better. “Alright let’s go.”

Obviously, parking was a nightmare in central Queens, so, you decided it would be easier to walk there instead. The two of you headed to the small corner shop, making light conversation. After opening the door to the store, the two greeted Mr. Delmar, Peter snatching a packet of gummies worms and you going directly to pet Murph, Mr. Delmar’s cat.

“Hey Murph! How’s my cutie doing?” he purred in response before you walked over to the cash with Peter. “Hey Mr. Delmar! Business running smoothly?”

He smiled at you before answering. “Of course. I’ve got my two most frequent costumers keeping me in business,” you and Peter laughed before ordering your sandwiches, paying and heading off.

You walked back to the school and got back in Peter’s car, eating your sandwiches in the school parking lot. The two of you conversed, making up dumb scenarios and silly topics for a while. Peter nearly choked of laughter as you tried to defend Tik-Tok.

“Not all of Tik-Tok is thirst traps okay! Maybe yeah there’s a weird subsection of it, but it really depends on the algorithm! Most of the users are sane – ish,” you argued as Peter shook his head.

“I really don’t get it. And somehow you stay up until morning watching them! Didn’t you do that when Vine was still around?” he took a pause, a dramatic gasp escaping from his lips. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying are you?”

You placed on a hand on your chest in slight offence. “No! What? Listen, I’m not saying that Tik-Tok is better than Vine, don’t get me wrong but –”

“But what? Tell me?” he raised a brow at you, suspicious as to which team your truly were on.

You shook your head laughing before punching him on the side of his arm. “You’re such a piss off Parker. Hey, should we get going? It’s getting late,” Peter looked at the time on his phone before nodding, taking a final bite of his sandwich before starting the car.

“Oh, shoot you’re right,” you smugly flipped your hair, as he rolled his eyes.

“Aren’t I always?”

----

“You said yes?” Peter demanded, trying to keep up with you as you walked to your locker.

Sighing as you rummage through your locker you answer, “Yeah I said yes. Noah is a good guy and quite frankly, I don’t see why it would even matter to you?”

“You said that you would think about it!”

Turning to face him as you shut your locker closed, you rolled your eyes. “That was nearly a week ago and I’ve thought about it since then. Besides, it’s not like it’s that big of a deal. It’s just one date.”

“You see that’s where it starts!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “It’s just a first date but then it’s a second and a third and soon he’s your boyfriend and he’s the one driving you to school and everywhere and then, where am I?”

You shook your head laughing slightly at the brunette. “Would you calm down Peter? You’re getting way too ahead of yourself for the first part. And yeah, maybe it’ll be more than one date but trust me you can keep driving me to school. Also we’ve been best friends since middle school, I wouldn’t just ditch you when I got boyfriend,” he seemed to calm down, nodding slowly at the words you were saying but he knew it was more than just being allowed to drive you to school. “I’ll see you around okay?” you smiled before heading off to meet up with Noah, who was standing with a group of his friends.

Peter’s smile faded away shortly as he watched Noah wrap his arm around your shoulder. He was too busy thinking of different scenarios to notice Ned had come up beside him or the fact that you had slapped Noah’s arm away. “Hey Peter. What are you looking – oh. Sorry man,” Ned tried to console Peter, but the words seemed to pass his mind. Sighing, Ned tried to pat his shoulder. “I mean, it is kind of your fault.”

“Excuse me?” the words seemed to catch his attention as he turned around to face his best friend.

Ned shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “Hey not trying to be rude but maybe if you hadn’t chickened out into asking her out, you could’ve been the one dating her,” Peter stared at his friend, slightly hurt but also aware that everything he was saying was right.

“Yeah, maybe if I had.”

He couldn’t help but look at you wistfully, his heart almost aching at the idea of you going out with anyone else but him but at this point, what could he really do?

Waving bye to Ned, Peter headed off into his car and drove home since you were already going with Noah on your date. Once he got into his apartment, he saw May and smiled. “Hey Pete, how was your day?” tucking his hands in his sweater pocket he sighed slightly.

“It was okay, I guess. Erm – I’m gonna work on my assignment in the library. I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, heading off to his room to grab a few things.

May shouted from in the kitchen, “alright! I’ll be heading off to grab a few things. Just be back before dinner!” he grabbed his suit and tried to get some fresh air to distract himself.

----

A month had passed, and you and Noah were happily dating, much to the dismay of Peter, who constantly tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his heart every time you two would display physical affection, but it was whatever.

You got in his car and buckled your seat belt without a word to Peter. You were tired of schoolwork as you always were, so you weren’t as talkative as you usually were. Slumping into the chair and sighing heavily Peter stared at you.

“Everything okay?”

You looked at him surprised, nodding. “Of course! I’m just really exhausted. Got a lot of work, that’s all.” You sighed, looking at the text on your phone. “Hey, we should get going. May’s probably wondering where you are, and I have a date with Noah so I can’t be late.”

The moment that Noah’s name was mentioned, Peter mentally rolled his eyes but nodded and started to drive again.

He dropped you off at your place before texting his aunt May that he would be heading over to the library to work. He drove over and got to the library, trying to find a place to sit.

After finding a seat, he pulled out his laptop and worked for a while, maybe a few hours or so before heading back home. May still wasn’t back and Peter really needed some air, so he put on the suit before leaving through his window and swinging around. It was a nice distraction as he watched the sun slowly start to set, dealing with a few petty crimes around the neighbourhood. He was about to call it a day when he heard a shout coming from someone.

“Hey! Get off me!” the voice sounded awfully familiar and as soon as he realized who it was, Peter’s stomach dropped. “I said get off!” you were shouting from about a block away, trying to keep a man away from you.

“Oh, come on, you look all nice and dolled up. Why won’t you just –” the man started before you started to attack him with your bag. Sure, you weren’t scared of him, but you were really hoping he would catch a clue and leave you alone for the rest of the night. You were tired and your feet hurt, and the sun was setting so you really didn’t want to be walking alone back to your place in the dark. You’d forgotten your phone like a dumbass in your room, so there really weren’t that many options. “You bitch! I can understand why you’re walking all alone! I wouldn’t want to be near such a whore either!” the words sank into your skin as you made a disgusted face at the man.

“Listen if you could please just leave me alone it would be –” as you placed your hands up trying to be defensive, the man grabbed onto your wrists and started to pull on you. “Stop! What are you –?”

“She said stop.”

Your head whipped around, and you saw Spiderman hanging from a web. You watched the man smirk and laugh for a minute, his hands still holding onto your wrists. “And what are you gonna do? From what I’ve heard about you Spiderman is that you’re just a kid. Don’t think that I’d fear a –”

Before he could finish his sentence, Spiderman had knocked him cold with a single blow to the face. He turned to you and tried to make sure you were alright. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting him to get knocked out. Are you alright miss?” you nodded, trying to massage your wrists, damn that guy had a firm grip. You glared at his lying figure, still holding onto your wrists. Spiderman’s eyes, or well, you couldn’t really see his eyes through his mask but whatever, moved to your wrists. “Are you sure? Here, let me see.”

He took your wrists gently, examining the potential bruises and making sure you were okay. You smiled before taking back your wrists. “I’m alright, honestly. Thank you for your help, even though I didn’t really need it,” you stated, causing him to scoff.

“Um what? From what I saw, he was holding you and you couldn’t move,” he crossed his arms making you snort.

“That’s because I was trying to reason with him before kicking him in the balls,” you mentioned, causing Spiderman to choke in response. “Kind of stupid that guy. I mean my legs weren’t restrained. But whatever. Thank you though. I do actually appreciate it,” you smiled and was about to walk off before he kept talking.

“Why are you walking alone? I mean it’s getting late, no? Why not call someone to drive you home?” he asked making you stop and turn around.

You placed your hand on your hip and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought it would be nice to get some fresh air so I just decided to walk. But I’m starting to think I should just take the bus for the rest of the way back.”

“I could swing you back?” Spiderman’s offer was a surprising one, considering how this was your first time encountering the hero. Though it was a bit skeptical, you agreed to it, wanting to go home. “Just hold on tight alright?” he asked as you nodded, latching yourself to him, arms wrapped around his neck. You heard his breath hitch slightly as you wrapped your legs around his waist but ignored it as he shot a web up and started to swing.

You screamed loudly, the adrenaline of being so high up and swing fast soon kicking in. “Do you even know where we’re going?” you shouted, the wind smacking you in the face. You rolled your eyes before giving your address to him and soon landing safely at your windowsill. Thankfully, your widow was still unlocked so you lifted it up and slid in. Before he left you tapped his shoulder. “Thanks Spiderman.”

“Not a problem. Just being your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman.”

He left soon, leaving you in your room, bored. You walked over to your desk and saw your phone there, a bunch of texts from MJ asking you how your date went so you went and responded. After binging a bit on Netflix, you decided to get ready for bed, knowing Peter was going to come honking at the door the next morning.

----

“Wow, you’re early for once,” Peter joked as you sat in his car. You rolled your eyes at him, before turning on the radio. “How was your, umm, date yesterday?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable.

You raised an eyebrow, confused as to why he had suddenly taken interest into your date with Noah. “It was the same as usual I guess,” you shrug. “Why?”

“You walked home last night?” he huffed, causing you to readjust your position. You awkwardly nodded, because you knew he was going to go into his “you shouldn’t be walking home alone late at night” speech.

“Yeah,” you admitted, as he stopped at the red light. “How did you know –”

He kept his eyes on the road before speaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you pursed your lips, shrugging once more. “I went to bed pretty early for once. I just forgot about it, I guess. Sorry,” you tried to apologize yet Peter’s face stayed stern.

“Why didn’t Noah drop you off?”

You were shocked at his tone but answered him, trying to keep your own temper. “He said he had to go somewhere once we were done the movie. He apologized for your information. He’s got more in his life then just me.”

“No one goes on a date with someone and just leaves because they were ‘busy’,” he argued. You rolled your eyes at his behaviour.

“Would you cut it out? It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” you snapped, crossing your arms and turning to look outside of the window.

Peter turned to you and glared. “Not that big of a deal? I heard some guy tried to attack you,” he retorted, causing you to turn back and face him, confused as to how he knew.

“Who told you?”

“That doesn’t matter!” his tone was harsher, making you wince at the volume. He took a breath and regained his composure. “I just can’t believe Noah let you go home alone. Why didn’t you take the bus?”

You were getting tired of his protective behavior, sighing. “Oh my god Peter. I’m not a helpless child, I can walk home on my own! For your information I didn’t have my bus pass. Besides it was hardly dark!” your attempts to reason with him fell on deaf ears.

“There were so many other things you could have done though!”

“Like what?”

“You could have called me!”

“You were busy! You have a life that’s not taking care of me twenty-four seven! I don’t want to have to rely on you for every fucking moment of my life!” you retaliated, breathing heavily. “Besides, I didn’t even have my phone.”

“You could have –”

“Could have what Parker?” you were sick of him treating you as if you were incapable of doing anything. “I get that you’re just trying to look after me, but I can handle things on my own!”

“Can you? Because it seems like the one time you are on your own you get yourself in situations like yesterdays!”

“You think that it was my fault? You think that some guy trying to assault me is my fault? Are you fucking serious right now? You know what, I’ll just get Noah to drive me home tonight seeing as you clearly don’t trust me walk home on my own, because I don’t want you to drive me anymore. Don’t wait for me after school,” and with those words, the car had come to a stop and you slammed his car door, leaving Peter to slap himself across the forehead at his stupid mistake. Groaning to himself, he placed his head on the steering wheel.

“What the fuck did I just do?”

------

It had been two weeks since you and Peter’s argument and neither of you had spoken to each other since. There had been awkward moments where you two would cross paths, like if you were hanging out with MJ and Ned, but you made it seems as if it were your sworn duty to ignore the boy. You sat with Noah and his friends at lunch and either walked home or had your dad pick you up.

That was all until one fateful night.

It was maybe eleven, possibly even midnight, and Peter had just gotten back from patrol. It was boring that night. Nothing happened, maybe a guy flashing people down the street but asides from that, the city was calm.

He had climbed back into his room and sat down on his bed, laying up at the ceiling. He hadn’t done much the past few weeks since he didn’t have you to bother him with, so his life was boring. He laid there for a few more minutes before his phone buzzed.

He was quick to get up and grab his phone, wow addicted much, and his eyes squinted when reading the name, making sure they weren’t deceiving him.

you: hey

you: do you think you could come over?

Peter: ofc! On my way right now

you: thanks :)

The ride to your house was short and before he knew it, you were sitting beside him, awkwardly staring forewords. “Can we drive? Anywhere is fine,” you mumbled under your breath, latching on your seatbelt.

Peter nodded and started to drive off. He glanced to look at you a couple times, watching as you anxiously played with the sleeves of your sweater. Maybe ten minutes had passed, and you motioned for Peter to park the car on the side of a quiet street.

“Me and Noah broke up.”

Peter looked at her surprised. “Oh. Do you want to talk about – “

“Do you still have those movies you downloaded on your phone?” you asked quickly, avoiding his previous question. He nodded as you smiled. “Can we watch one of them in the back? I really just don’t want to think about anything.”

Peter smiled at the girl. “Anything for you.”

So, the two of you sat in the backseats of Peter’s old sedan, wrapped up in an old blanket and watching trashy romcoms together.

And it was perfect.

-----

The two of you had finally made amends after the incident and nearly a month had passed until the two of you were working on a project in Peter’s apartment.

While Peter was vigour sly typing up the document, you laid on his bed, playing with various Knick knacks he had scattered around his room.

“Peter?” He hummed his response before you continued. “What’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you think about me?”

“Sorry?” He paused his writing, confused at why you had suddenly decided to go into such a deep question.

You sat up for a second, repeating the same question. “What do you think of when you think of me?” you collapsed back down onto your back and laid your head on your arms. “Go on. Answer it?”

He took a second to think about it before answering: “Annoying.”

“You think I’m annoying?” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes at his childish answer.

“Undoubtedly. Every day I wonder how far I can shoot you into space,” he joked as you threw one of his pillows at his head. He caught it with ease, turning on his chair to face you. “Why are you asking? Did someone say something?” he asked defensively.

You shook your head, playing with some strands of hair, braiding them carelessly. “No. I was just kind of sitting in my room earlier today and stumbled over a Tik Tok where a girl asked people what they thought of when they thought of her, so I just wondered about it. I asked MJ and she said that I reminded her of comfort and that one time we plotted to kill Ms. Gail,” Peter looked at you with a cocked brow as you shrugged. “I mean, at least her answer wasn’t as rude as yours.”

“Oh, come on. It was just a joke,” he tried to reason with you as you laughed. He left his desk and sat at the bottom of his bed beside you, taking a second to think about it. “I guess the first thing I think about, when I think about you, is cars.”

“Like the Pixar movie?”

Smacking you with the pillow he was holding, he rolled his eyes, “and you wonder why I said annoying?”

“You love me,” you stated, as Peter sighed.

“No, but like cars. More so car rides,” he stopped himself, thinking of all the memories you have made in the car rides you had been on. “Like, I guess car rides with you are what I think of. Like how I pick you up and drop you every day. And all the stupid conversations we have, or watching you trying to put yourself together in the mornings when I pick you up. I think about the arguments we have gotten into, the tears that we shed, the terrible jokes you made, the movies we watched in the back of the car on your phone late at night,” a smile tugged at his lips as he thought: ‘It’s where I fell in love with you.’ He leaned his head back on the mattress of the bed. “I guess it’s just, our special thing.”

You smiled to yourself at his answer, as you laid on your back staring at the ceiling. “That was a solid answer Parker,” you teased him. You slid down the bed, so that half of you was lying upside down and turned to face him.

“Yeah well my real answer is just annoying,” he laughed before turning to face you. You both hadn’t realized how close you were to each other’s faces. Your nose was almost touching his as you stared into his soft brown eyes.

Neither of you moved.

Just the sound of silence and your heartbeat going haywire.

“Do you want to know what comes to my mind when I think of you?” you asked smiling. “I think of how many times you’ve been there for me, showing up at midnight with your old sedan and your hair a mess. I think of how you always seem to be there no matter how pissed off I am at you or the world. I think of your cute face and how you always manage to make me smile. I think of how much I really love you Peter Parker. How your dorky face manages to be my entire world.”

Peter’s mind seemed to unravel as the words left your mouth. “You, love me?”

A light scoff seemed to escape your lips before you responded. “I do. Have been since sophomore year, but if you don’t feel the same, don’t feel obligated to answer. I know it’s really-“

His lips sealed over yours before another word could have been spoken. His hair tickled your eyes as you two got closer together, his hand placed on the back of your neck. The two of you parted, your eyes staring longingly into his. The two of you shared a pair of love sick smiles.

“I guess that means you love me too?”

“You have no idea.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fluff #spiderman #spiderman x reader #tom holland #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #marvel imagines #marvel #Avengers #peter parker imagines #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #peter parker blurb

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cynwritess · 4 years ago

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My Outlining Technique As A Pantser

I despise outlining with every fiber of my soul. I don’t care how much people persist you need an outline, I will put it off to the very last minute and do it very half-assed. Even in school, its straight to the first draft. Outlining requires a very precise skill of breaking things down as small as possible and my mind simply does not function that way. It’s literally all or nothing. Unfortunately while this may work for writing school essays, it’s not exactly a good idea when it comes to a book. Writing a book requires structure and precision because you need to carefully place information, have an idea where your characters are going, tedious yet necessary things. Fortunately, I’ve come up with a way to outline without completely frying my brain.

Characters.

I almost always start with the characters first and build the world, other characters, and plot around them. If you have a name in mine, perfect! Go ahead and use it! If you don’t have a name, don’t dread scouring through dozens of baby name websites. Give them a place holder name or better yet, give them a role/title. I’m going to use one of my current characters (steal anything about her and I’ll send demons after you). When I first created Selina I only had a vague aesthetic and the idea that I wanted her to somehow be attached to spirits. Her name didn’t come to me until 25k into the story, but I had to refer to her as something so I used a conjunction of a place holder name and calling her “Reaper of Souls”. This way I know exactly who I’m referring to. Also, this helps me know what path my character needs to go down. Reaper of Souls is who she’ll become, but its definitely not who she is when the story begins. It makes me thing: What steps do I need to take to get her there? This is where you can start brainstorming character arcs and give them trauma.

Another essential part of creating characters in my opinion is giving them “role models”. Personally, if this is a brand new character I’m creating off the top of my head its hard to write them because I know nothing about them. I don’t know their sense of humor, who they would and wouldn’t get along with, their inner monologue, etc. Now you have to be careful with this and make sure to mold them into their own unique characters at the end of the day, but you can use other already existing characters to help begin the process. When creating Selina I knew vaguely she needed to be connected to spirits. What characters do I know like that? Jodie from Beyond Two Souls is a good one and Zelie is a bit of a different twist to it but still the same general idea. But wait! Selina’s vibe doesn’t match either of them. So in this case I might look at Jude Duarte for inspiration for her personality. Nitpick all your favorite things about different characters and use that to your advantage! It gives you the jolt you need to really begin to explore who your character is.

Always do the main character first, then follow with the supporting character or villain. In my opinion, the main supporting character and villain should be foils of the main character in order to get the most out of each one, because you’ll be able to see different aspects and different arcs they could’ve/will have. Once you have those three characters you can create the others as you progress with your story.

Setting.

This can either be really simple or your worst fucking nightmare. For me, it’s a mixture of both. If your story is taking place in the real world then this can be relatively simple even if you’re creating your own town/city. If your town has a very specific location like a town square or maybe there’s a river running through it, then just google “towns with a river going through it” for a start. If you have a specific town in mind you can also google the map and start dissecting different aspects of the town and incorporating it into your own. You can even use your own town for inspiration! The town my story takes place in is made up, but my hometown actually resembles it quite a bit so I’ve been using it for references. So far, its been working out pretty good.

Now if you have a high fantasy setting... I wish you the best of luck. I’ve only written one high fantasy story when I was twelve and... well clearly its never seen the light of day for a reason (partially because I deleted it, partially because there was absolutely zero world-building). I’m sorry to say my skills have no improved much since then. I’ve dabbled with the idea of high fantasy worlds and honestly my only advice is to look at other fantasy maps and draw inspiration from that. Narnia, Ravka, the ACOTAR world, the shifting isles of Elfhame, the Avatar universe, Orisha, to name a few. You’ll also have to look at some basic geographical stuff like the climate, but overall you have pretty much free reign over how your world looks. This is the one part I feel like you can’t bullshit if you don’t want your story to seem halfway. Really go in with the details even if its just for you. The more fleshed out your world is, even if its set here in the normal world, the better.

The main issue.

This is pretty much a given but you do need to have some sort of idea who the main antagonist is/what is the big issue your characters are fighting. If you’re writing a series then chances are book one will probably focus on an entirely different issue before the big one is revealed. There’s not really much advice I can give for this because it’ll be tailored specifically to your story. I don’t think your antagonist has to be fully fleshed out if you’re going to be introducing them very late, but do have a general idea who or what it is, their goal, and why your character feels the need to stop them.

Usually you’ll notice the problem in the beginning of the story isn’t the ultimate problem, its just a gateway to it. I wouldn’t necessarily call it a subplot but I guess technically that’s what it is. Think of Percy Jackson. The main issue of book one is him being accused of stealing the lightning bolt, but the ultimate issue was the war with the titans. Or The Cruel Prince. The main issue was Jude feeling helpless and wanting to create a place for herself in the faery world, but the ultimate issue was those attempting overthrowing the entire Greenbriar family from the thrown.

This kind of goes without saying, but there has to be a strong motivation for the character to stop them or it just won’t work. You don’t see characters going after the antagonist because nothing in their life isn’t threatened. There’s always a motivation, something to fuel them even if done so reluctantly. For example, Zelie from Children of Blood and Bone was sick and tired of constantly fighting and being the hero, but she did it anyways because she was the only one who could truly help the maji. Or you can take a slightly antagonistic approach and look at Kaz from Six of Crows who did what he did out of greed for money, power, and revenge. Usually when I begin my stories, I only have a vague idea as to why my main character is joining the fight, which is perfectly fine. As long as you have some sort of idea and begin to build on it as you write, you’ll be probably be fine.

Brainstorm.

I cannot for the life of me sit in front of my computer and write a bland summary of what it is that is going to happen in my book. Sorry, but I am simply not built that way but it also makes writing your books ten times harder as well. I’ve found a bit of a cheat. For one, brainstorm. Get a general idea what some of the main events you want to happen are. Do you want a character death? Does a specific location need to be mentioned? Is there subplots or character arcs you would like to explore? Is there any themes you’d like to explore? Jot them all down, along with your word count goal. You probably won’t be able to incorporate all of them in one book, but at least you’ll have an idea what path you’re going to head down in terms of your story.

And now onto my actual cheat. Because I’m a pantser who hates outlining, I usually jump into my stories without knowing what direction they are going. Recently I’ve discovered that I can outline the first five chapters, write them out, and give myself complete free reign. I’ll explore all sorts of character personalities, different beginnings, different writing styles, different scenarios, different relationships, anything I can realistically include in the first five chapters of my story. Then I’ll go back and edit it. Don’t completely delete anything, always save it in a separate file! I’ll go back and decide which characters are unnecessary at this point, what plot points can be introduced later on, what writing style suits this story, things like that. Then from there, I’ll go back to my outline and make any appropriate changes before proceeding to write the rest of the draft as normal (WITHOUT GOING BACK TO EDIT). The reason why I do this is because I need a solid base to begin my story, otherwise its so easy for me to go off track and begin to tell a completely different story. This way I’ll know exactly what I’m going after, I’ll be able to explore and get to know my characters and setting, and it’s enough chapters that I can even begin to incorporate the main issue at hand.

#creative writing #creativewriters #author #writing inspiration #writing #writers on tumblr #writing prompt #fiction #fantasy #writing tips #storytelling #my writing #character inspiration

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mx-milo · 4 years ago

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Parlez-vous or something like that

[千紬/ChikaTsumu]

It's the end of Chikatsumu Week. I don't play A3! often, I'm not active in the fandom, I barely even write fanfics. But the power of these two have compelled me, and since AO3 won't be giving me an account until the next week, so it'll be here first.

Summary: "Chikage has never spoken a word of French before in his life, but that didn't stop him from helping out Tsumugi for one of his tutees. Hilarity ensues."

~~~

Chikage was a reliable source for guidance and knowledge for the students of the Mankai Company. Although there were a myriad of adults who have their own areas of expertise, it usually ended up with either him or Tsumugi, especially when it came to linguistic subjects: Classical Japanese, English, and the rare foreign language elective.

His sessions with Tenma or Taichi were a welcome break from whatever he had been doing on his PC for the last god knows how many hours. At least he could perceive the output of his hardwork with the wide smiles of a teenager who just finally understood why verbs didn't always end with -ed.

That's not to say, it wasn't challenging. Not especially when a curveball was thrown in his way. "Chikage-san, I was wondering if you could help me. A student asked me if I knew some French, and I said I'd do my best." Chikage wasn't much of baseball anyway. He'd rather play cricket.

He looked up at Tsumugi, removing his glasses and polishing them again in the process. "French? Well, I did spend a few months there for as liasion for my company. I learned how to speak so I could negotiate well for my superiors." He noticed Tsumugi was looking at him intently. It wasn't new for him, since it was like he was being psycho-analyzed by the master tutor whenever he spoke. Most times, he felt it was harmless, Tsumugi wouldn't even want to know where to begin with his psyche and conscience, but now felt different. He was concerned, even a little bit, that he might just call his bluff.

He lied after all. He barely knows the language. He didn't lie about the the time he spent there, but he was obviously being vague about being liasion, the higher-ups at the Organization, and the meaning of "negotiation." He didn't have time to see the sights and speak their tongue.

But it was not a big deal. It's not like it's too different from the other Latin languages, right? It's like Spanish but some of the letters are different, and they barely pronounce any of them. 'I may be a liar, but I make up for it by improvising.' he thought to himself, as he waiting for Tsumugi to respond.

"Could I ask you to visit me by the balcony later? We might be in for a long night."

Chikage let out a small smile, and gave a small nod. "That's a date then."

"Thank you, Chikage-san."

Tsumugi left briefly, sounding pleased at the prospect of extra help. For his part, Chikage couldn't help but shake his head. 'What have I gotten myself into?' He knew he had to brush up on his French, even if it was from the bare minimum on a Wikipedia page.

He usually wouldn't stick his head out for something as small as this, but this was Tsumugi he was talking about. Somehow the psych major has outwitted him in a battle of the minds. Or was it of the hearts?

Sometime ago, Chikage started calling their late-night trial-and-error teaching sessions "dates", partly because he thought it was funny to compare something so mundane to something romantic, and partly to watch Tsumugi blush whenever he said it. There was some satisfying about the way his cheeks would barely tinge red at the utterance of anything romantic, only for him to totally ignore it after.

'You can't escape me Tsukioka-san. I have tricks up my sleeve too.' he thought to himself, as he ambled through the halls of the Mankai Dorm. It was almost midnight, so the usually boisterous building only emanated a soft hum of energy.

'Of course, it wasn't for the sake of mischief.'

"Chikage-san, let's begin?"

"My pleasure, Tsumugi."

'There's always a reason for mischief after all.'

The specific lesson Tsumugi's student had was the worst one they could possibly deal with: conjugation. All Romance languages had their three, five, seven different verb endings depending on whether you were eating your bread now, ordering someone to eat it on Monday, or to have thrown it in the trash three days ago.

'And let's not get started with pronunciation.'

Everytime Tsumugi encountered a new word, he would run it through Translate to hear how it would be pronounced, and then ask Chikage if he said it correctly. All he'd do is nod and repeat it best he can, then Tsumugi would again, and they'd just accept that was the best they could do.

"Par-lez vu? Wait. No. That isn't it."

"It's like 'par-ley vu'. Parlez-vous, or something like that."

"'Per-ley vu?'"

"I guess that's close enough for someone born in Japan."

Tsumugi snickered at his comment. Chikage could only look on and wonder what he was thinking. His head was tilted ever so slightly, his green locks swaying in the light midsummer night breeze, while his rounded glasses were slightly askew on his nose.

"You know, some of the best theater was written in French. It wouldn't hurt for me to learn in case Tsuzuru sets one of our plays in France."

Chikage looked down and sighed with a smile on his face. "Even when we're suffering with a foreign language, you're still a strong theater nerd, aren't you?"

Tsumugi, sitting inches away from him, lightly pushed Chikage's arm with his in jest. "You know theater nerd is a compliment, right?"

"Tsuzuru told me that once. But you're all the same, so hyperfocused and passionate."

"Well, you're one of us now, so I guess that applies to you too."

Chikage raise his hands in fake shock, exaggerating his movements. "Oh no, I've become what I feared the most. A nerd" he said in an almost mocking tone.

Tsumugi couldn't help but burst out in laughter as he tried stopping Chikage, who started spouting out Shakespeare, eerily like Arisugawa would. "Stop, stop, I get it already." At this point he already took his arm, since he started mimeing holding a skull like Hamlet.

"You're going for so much trouble for this. Why'd you take up your student's elective anyway?" Chikage wouldn't dare notice how Tsumugi's arm was linked on his.

Tsumugi shrugged. "I just thought it would help me brush up on a foreign language for a change. I knew I could rely on you anyway." It was at that moment he realized how close they've gotten.

That didn't stop him from unlinking their arms. That didn't stop Chikage from just gawking at the situation. That didn't stop Tsumugi from blushing at the thought of what was happening.

"Ah, Chikage-san, our arms are..."

"I can see that."

Immediately, Tsumugi pulled back his arm back to his side and turned ever so slightly away. Chikage stayed where he was, still dumbfounded at what just happened. They let the air of tension hang for a few more moments before Tsumugi turned back and suggested they finally try dealing with the two different ways to say "be."

"'Av-awa?' 'Atu-ra?' Why does French have to be so hard?"

"I mean Japanese changes their endings, but never this much. It doesn't have to be."

'This doesn't have to be hard.' Chikage thought to himself in affirmation, but clearly for a different think entirely.

Tsumugi woke up after something bright shone into his eyes. After yawning and rubbing his eyes, he took a look at his phone, confusing the volume buttons for the locks. 'What time is it already?'

On his screen was a picture of Zabi, himself, and his grandmother, and a clock happily informing Tsumugi it's already quarter to six in the morning. He was promptly sent into a panic. He looked out the glass-paned door to the balcony and saw that the sun was already peeking through the horizon, the source of the enlightenment that stirred Tsumugi.

He looked around him and saw that the corridors were still empty, a sight uncommon to him, seeing as he was probably the latest to rise of all the people he knew. To his right however, one person was already awake, looking at him intently, though still plastered onto the couch cushion.

"Good morning, Tsumugi."

"Chikage-san, you're up too."

"Well, I was always a light sleeper, and you started squirming around maybe five, ten minutes ago."

Chikage wasn't wearing his glasses; it was on the coffee table along with Tsumugi's laptop and Homare's draft of a book full of his poems. Tsumugi always commented that without his glasses, he looked much more severe and mischievous, but also 'maybe more exposed and solemn.' Chikage laughed at the fact the last time he said it but now it was undoubtedly true, especially since he just woke up after sleeping beside him through the night.

'I just woke up beside him after sleeping through the night.' Chikage thought to himself at that very moment. Rarely would he ever lose his guard so much as to randomly fall asleep, and on Tsumugi's shoulder, no less. Luckily, he didn't wake up to see Chikage in that position, which would have been much worse for the both of them.

They were still wearing yesterday's clothes, the air around them smelled like both of their perfumes, and their area was a mess of strewn papers and uncapped pens. Yet, for all the apparent chaos, both of them were at peace in the moment, seated side-by-side. At their most vulnerable, yes, but they found no reason to take advantage of it, rather relish in each other's company. All the while Tsumugi had a light blush on his face, and so did Chikage. It was probably the gentle cold of a summer's morning, if not the residual warmth from their sharing sleep together.

"I'm lucky you're not a vampire, Chikage-san."

"Why do you say that?"

"You could've drawn blood from me and made me one of your kind." Tsumugi languidly pointed to his neck. Apparently, he surmised where Chikage fell asleep.

"Well, I were a vampire, I'd only have to fear you, wouldn't I?"

"Yes Chikage-san, I'd spike your curry with all the garlic I could possibly muster." Tsumugi smiled as widely as he could through the laziness much to Chikage's dismay.

He instantly fell back on Tsumugi's shoulder, taking the blue-haired tutor with him, and toppling onto the other side of the decrepit sofa. "Well then, I hope you won't do that to my food while I'm asleep."

"How can I do that when you're still on me then?"

Chikage yawned as he slowly moved from his shoulder, to his chest, and ultimately resting on his lap. "I can never be too sure."

Tsumugi rested a hand on Chikage's head, toying playfully with the stray strands of his hair before neatly setting it to the back of his head.. "If that's the case, bonne nuit, Chikage-san."

He slid his hands under Chikage's head and raised it as high as he can, to the point where they were within his reach to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. Chikage returned in kind taking Tsumugi's hand and touching his lips on its somewhat calloused yet also milky soft back.

"Bonne nuit, cherie."

Elsewhere in the Mankai Dorms, Tsumugi could hear music playing from one of the rooms.

"Vampires never have to complain of living a dull circumstance."

It being a rock ballad, it was probably from one of the younger actors, probably Masumi-kun. The easy melody matched the beat of his heart and soon the rise and fall of his breath as he slowly fell back asleep.

"And it would be fine, to spend my whole life with you together."

"Parlez-vous, or something like that."

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Memento and the Significance of Sammy Jankis

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“Have I told you about Sammy Jankis?”

On March 16, 2001, Christopher Nolan announced himself to the world with the US release of Memento. Not that everyone heard him straight away.

Despite garnering rave reviews on the festival circuit, Nolan’s mind-bending jigsaw puzzle of a movie failed to land a major distribution deal in the States. In the end Newmarket Films, the independent production company bankrolling the project, took the plunge and distributed it themselves.

Memento went on to earn more than $45 million at the US box office from a $4.5 million budget – a huge sum for an independent film.

Within five years, Nolan would move on to bigger and Bat-er things, but Memento remains among his most ambitious and effective films to date. A non-linear neo-noir that doubles up as a psychological thriller, it’s a film that continues to offer up subtle surprises on repeat viewing.

Guy Pearce takes centre stage with a mesmeric performance as Leonard, a man with short-term memory loss trying to track down his wife’s murderer. His pursuit is hampered by an inability to create new memories.

It’s a similarly disorientating experience for viewers who must piece together Leonard’s story while it plays out in reverse order. Allied to this is the story of Sammy Jankis, played by Stephen Tobolowsky, which intersperses that of Leonard’s and plays out across a series of black-and-white scenes shown in chronological order.

Narrated by Leonard, from an apparent recollection of a case he took during days as an insurance investigator, like our protagonist, Sammy also claims to be anterograde amnesiac – and that’s not all they have in common.

The film continues to alternate between the two narratives, with Leonard obsessively telling the tale of Sammy to anyone who will listen, before the two stories eventually converge in a climax where their shared plight becomes painfully apparent.

Despite its modest budget, Memento boasted an impressive cast. Pearce had shot to mainstream fame with LA Confidential a few years earlier while Joe Pantoliano, who played Leonard’s helper/fixer Teddy, was an established figure in the business along with his co-star from The Matrix, Carrie Anne Moss.

There was even a role for future Sons of Anarchy star and Nolan favourite Mark Boone Junior as the underhand manager of the motel where Leonard lives. Tobolowsky more than held his own though.

A seasoned character actor, by the time Memento came around he had enjoyed a memorable turn in Groundhog Day as the hilariously grating insurance agent Ned Ryerson. But it hadn’t been without its drawbacks in the years that followed.

Tobolowsky explained to Den of Geek: “The good news and bad news of being Ned in Groundhog Day is, guess what? You’re going to be Ned in Groundhog Day for the rest of your career. A lot of times when people are in comedic roles and want to do something more dramatic, it’s not available to them. Especially with something like Groundhog Day. An actor like me could get an opportunity to be in a drama but it might not work out because the audience would still see Ned Ryerson. Not this role. Sammy Jankis was so remarkably different.”

Landing the role of Jankis proved remarkably different too, starting with Nolan’s script, based on a short story written by his brother Jonathan called Memento Mori.

“My agent called me up and said John Papsidera, a casting director, wanted me to take a look at this script. John had a reputation for doing really unusual and generally good movies so I was very happy to. A standard first draft script is usually around 120 pages before a producer or director gets their hands on it. Because of the way it is formatted, one page should equal around one minute of screen time. I got the screenplay for Memento and it was like the Old and New Testament combined. I had never seen a script so big. I don’t remember the exact page numbers but it was in the 300s.”

Having seen his fair share of scripts over the years, Tobolowksy was apprehensive about reading what looked like the equivalent of “Gone with the Wind times ten.”

“I was thinking to myself ‘Oh God, this is going to be terrible. ’I even said to my wife, ‘ I know it’s going to be awful. It’s three times longer than normal but I’m going to read it just to be a good sport.’ I start reading and I’m halfway through and my wife comes in and I’m saying ‘damn it, damn it’ and she says ‘Terrible?’ and I say ‘No, so far really great but there’s no way these writers can continue at this level. It’s going to crap out by the end.”

“I get to the end and I throw the script across the room and my wife hears me, comes in, and says ‘Terrible?’ and I say ‘No, quite possibly the best script I’ve ever read.’” Nolan’s script was unlike any Tobolowsky had read, bringing the filmmaker’s vision for the movie to life in stunning detail.

“Chris and Jonathan wrote it in a way where they describe exactly what the camera is doing. Everything was perfectly described and you got a picture of the movie in your head, backwards and forwards in time. It was mind-blowing. I called up my agent immediately and said I had to meet Chris Nolan. I had to talk to him about Sammy Jankis.”

Despite few lines, the role of Sammy was a significant one. A part that much of the film’s plot ultimately rested on. Determined to make the role his own and shake off the ghost of Ned, Tobolowsky met with Nolan knowing he had a unique selling point when it came to the role.

“I said ‘Chris, I didn’t come here to read for you. There’s nothing really for me to read, but this is what I want to tell you: this is quite possibly one of the best screenplays ever written. You are going to have actors all over this city that will want to be in this. However, I am going to be the only person that wants to be Sammy Jankis who has actually had amnesia.’

Chris said: ‘You’ve had amnesia?’ and I was like ‘Yes, and this is how it happened…’”

Tobolowsky explained that during surgery for a kidney stone, doctors had used an experimental drug in place of the standard anesthesia.

“I’m a big guy, like six foot three and 210 pounds, so they gave me a new drug that they had been using on bigger people. It means they are able to give instructions to the patient like to get up on the operating table, rather than have orderlies lifting them. The patient performs the task and then forgets it had happened. It worked the same with the pain.”

It led to what he describes as “drug induced amnesia” as the medication worked its way through his system. “I would be in my living room and then boom! It was like I was just born. The worst was when I was standing over the toilet and suddenly didn’t know if I was about to pee or if I had already peed. Fortunately, I heard my wife yell ‘you finished ten minutes ago!’”

The description of his ordeal was enough to convince Nolan he was the man for the job – but that was only the start of the challenge for Tobolowsky.

“It was the most difficult part I have ever played in my life. When you are an actor, the thing that moves you through a scene is your motivation. But when your character can’t remember anything, you don’t have that.”

In order to better portray Sammy’s damaged mind, he began by breaking down the character’s actions into behaviors marked as either old or new.

“There are the old, every day, behaviors we don’t think about like making breakfast. The rote nature of that behavior means you might do it quickly, almost mechanically. Then there is the newer stuff that takes longer because you are trying to understand what you are doing for the first time.

“I had met people who have lost their memory, through Alzheimer’s or an accident, and noticed how these old behaviors were still familiar to them.”

This attention to detail was not lost on audiences.

In one small but memorable moment, Sammy greets Leonard at the door of his home with a look Leonard initially believes to be recognition and proof he is faking his condition.

It’s only later, when Leonard begins to understand his own plight, that Nolan has us revisit that same look, only this time with the realisation Sammy’s expression is instead one of desperate hope with that complex duality perfectly conveyed by Tobolowsky.

“That look was about putting out a message saying ‘I am sorry I may know you, so I don’t want to embarrass myself or you by acting like I don’t know you,’” Tobolowsky explains.

Later, after Leonard has rejected Sammy’s insurance claim, his wife, played by Frasier star Harriet Sansom Harris, decides to test the theory for herself by having him administer shot after shot of insulin, in the hope he will realise his mistake before she suffers a fatal overdose.

It’s then that we see Tobolowsky channeling the mechanical, emotionless actions of old, going through the motions of giving his wife the shot, as he has always done, oblivious to the tragic implications for both characters.

But Sammy is oblivious, with Tobolowsky’s emotionless, robotic approach to the repeated injections – something he has done for years – adding a layer of tragedy simultaneously to both characters.

“We all worked it out together in the moment. You let the truth emerge from the scene in the moment the camera is running.”

However, the true significance of Sammy in the wider story of Leonard only fully emerges later in the film after the latter’s revelatory encounter with Teddy.

It’s Teddy who reveals that he has been using Leonard to kill criminal associates. He claims to have tracked down the real “John G” behind the murder of Leonard’s wife years ago and, most tellingly, that Sammy’s story is actually Leonard’s, created to absolve himself of guilt.

Which begs the question: Are Sammy and Leonard simply one and the same person? And, if so, did Leonard kill his wife by accident?

While some degree of ambiguity remains, Tobolowsky says such notions played into Nolan’s decision to include a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment where Sammy, holed up in an old folk’s home, is for a brief flash, replaced by Leonard.

“Chris played with the idea on set. He said he had an idea for a moment where he would replace me with Guy. He wanted to try that out. That was determined while filming, the idea of the switch, which cements the idea of the two characters being one and the same.

“Chris was mining the depths of his script in the moment, which takes nerve as an artist. “

Reflecting on the experience, Tobolowsky only has positive memories of his experience on Memento, and the commitment shown by Pearce – particularly when it came to the tattoos that serve as reminders to Leonard of his past and forgotten present.

“Guy Pearce was just magnificent,” he says. “Every day, he would be in the chair getting those tattoos put on or removed. There would be long make-up breaks to get them adjusted perfectly and Chris would have it so that we would be shooting while Guy was in the makeup trailer.”

“Chris was a fabulous director to work with. Full of good humour and insight. The entire shoot was filled with energy and fun and that came from the top. I knew right away I was working with somebody very special. Chris takes chances.”

Tobolowsky holds his experience on Memento in the highest regard.

“When you do a lot of shows and movies, the idea is not how many you can squeeze in, it’s about which ones mattered to you. The work you did that affected you as a person and an artist. Something like Memento is profoundly affecting with the questions it asks.

“What haunts me about Sammy Jankis was that idea that if you cannot remember what you do, both your sins and your blessings, what kind of hell are you in? That final scene where Sammy is the old folk’s home, there is this question: Is he at peace? If you don’t know what is happening to you, what is your life? And what happens to Leonard?

He also credits the film with changing his career for the better.

“After I did Memento, I was considered for all sorts of roles that I wouldn’t have been before. It broke the Groundhog Day mold and showed what I was capable of.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“There have been so many movies I have been in. Some terrible, some mediocre and a few classics. It always comes down to the script and director. Memento is one of the good ones. It’s a masterpiece. There’s nothing quite like it.”

The post Memento and the Significance of Sammy Jankis appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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bellamyblake · 5 years ago

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Hi Iva! First of all I would like to say - thank you for loving Bellamy so much, it means so much to me to read your posts and feel the same love I have for him. The way I wholheartedly with your every word... about his tragic life, his immense love, everything. On the other hand, you must hurt a lot judging by myself - I honestly cannot stop crying multiple times a day. I do not know how to make the pain stop. I dont know how much more I can handle, its not getting better but actually worse p1

P2 when I think about in details about his life like you did – his life had no happy beginning, or middle, and certainly not the end. Maybe only as a baby boy before O was born. I don’t know how to deal with the fact the character that I genuinely believe had it the worst ended up with the worst possible ending as a reward for honestly trying to do better. Like if he at least experienced love and understanding from O or SOMETHING… but she never got to tell him sorry for beating him up,

P3 that now she understands what he did for her… I am gonna go crazy over this, honestly. I wanna stop crying and enjoy fanfiction with much better ending for him. Where should I find solace? Was his death at least quick, maybe he did not have time to think about what happened? Is there an afterlife where Aurora waited for him? Was that what I can hope for when Aurora was NEVER explained, she was not an alien so what was she? But he also sow Cadogan in the same scene and he was alive then?

P4 Should I watch 5x13 on loop to get in my head this was the ending? Should I teach myself to edit and do some manip for the ending? My only way of coping is seeing other people, blogs like yours that love him just as much. But I keep crying and feeling utterly miserable ☹I am 27 I never spend so much time loving any character (fun fact, It must be around 3 500 hours for me reading ff, watching the show and fan edits and tumblr posts). I know Bellamy will always and forever be the one beloved

P5 one beloved character of mine and no one will ever come close. Bellarke, the same – they were my OTP. The only one. I need to do something about this cause I am loosing my damn mind… I could handle almost anything, I would cry, yes, but I was absolutely sure of one thing - no matter their ending, sad or happy, in some sense they would do it together… and we got THAT. Does anything help you? I am so sorry for dumping this on you but reading your posts - its like hearing my soul.

Hello!

First of all thank you for the kind words and for enjoying my blog so much.

I really do love Bellamy Blake a whole damn LOT. Like a damn LOT hah. I think that’s pretty obvious by the posts I make even if they’re not as many lately because I’m mentally not doing well right now. But that same love you feel, I feel it too and I’m glad I’m not alone in this.

I also get angry too and I cry a lot still about the way things ended. I also have not spent that much time in my life invested in a fictional character before so this is a lot for me as well and I get how you feel.

You asked me if something helps and for me it helps a lot to write you know? Be it meta or fanfiction, I indulge myself a lot in writing.

It’s funny that even when I write fics I don’t write happy fics, you’d think that I’d make him absolutely happy in what I write but I don’t. But indulging yourself in a world of your creation with this character helps a lot. And it’s fun too, to do this, to build a world for him, a different one-be it with Clarke or with a family of his own or Idk just with anyone. Giving him love that he never had and joy he never felt. I think that helps me a lot and it helps me forget how he died and how much it hurts (I wanna say that even typing this makes me cry hah, so...).

I also like to rewatch some episodes that were more about him as a character and then meta in my head. That usually gets me sad too but it’s also exciting to think about some of the stuff that happened and dive in the psychologity of his character (which I do a lot) LOL. But that’s mostly painful. I don’t get many asks about him and meta stuff so I mostly do it in my head on my own and dive into the world of direction and how things were done and love making sense of them.

Headcanons are something I love doing too though I haven’t written (or posted) much lately. In fact I haven’t posted anything lately because Idk...I’m not sure that sharing everything you create is good these days. people got so judgemental over time, the way actors and cast are threated is horrible but it extends to the entire fandom and its participants so it’s ugly and dark and horrible and I think stops a lot of people from posting gifs or fics or anything at all. But that’s another subject.

So yes writing helps me a lot. Reading fics helps me a lot. I’m not sure what the recipe is here because honestly I am in the same boat as you. I love this character more than anything and any other that I’ve loved and been in a fandom before so...this is hard for me too. And it’s fucked up.

I also love making gifs for him though I don’t make anything good or special. Gifs I think can be lots of fun but also pain too-fun cause when you go to gif a moment you can rewatch half the episode (at least I do) and sad cause it can bring you some pain but at the end giffing is really Idk..rewarding. Except when people don’t reblog shit so that’s discouraging too hah.

I’m sorry I don’t mean to be a debbie downer.

To tell you the truth after years of being on here and in fandoms I realized this-I can create to soothe my soul from the pain, like from losing Bellamy but I don’t have to seek validation from people and post it. I can do it just to heal myself and not share it. When you share it what? You just get disappointed. That’s why I have 230 drafts. Half of them are unpublished headcanons. some of them are published fics with few readers or readers who yelled at me for writing sad stuff. the other half is stories i’ll never post. So I guess my advice is-

find something to get your hands on, to create, be it editing, giffing, writing, something to let the grief out, to soothe the wound inside you. and then you can decide if you want to share it or not. and even if you don’t it was inspired by the best character ever.

He was loved, he deserved more, he did. But you can create worlds where he has more.

He can be held by his mom as a baby, he can be tucked in, he can be climbing up her leg and reaching for her arms, he can be cranky when he had his first tooth, or sad when he had to go to day care, he can be scared before his first exam and anxious as he grew up. He can be having nightmares and not sleeping when O was born, he can be terrified and feeling alone. He can have friends and be hugged and loved and have a first kiss, he can live in a house by the ocean with clarke with two beautiful kids and a dog and a cat for her cause she loves cats. Or he can be alone curled up in his bed just crying his grief away.

He can be anything that you wished for him, anywhere you wished for.

Hope I helped some!

#answered #bellamy blake #the 100 #im sorry if i wasn't as helpful #i tried #hah #i think about him every day #and cry too #alwaysdreamingofmiracles

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taeken-my-heart · 6 years ago

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Moirai Chapter 4

Summary: On your 18th birthday a name appears on your wrist. The name of your soulmate. It’s a momentous day that everyone looks forward to, but you’ve always brushed aside; refusing to believe in a fickle mistress called destiny. But what happens when on the morning of your 18th birthday you wake to find the name of your mortal enemy? Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Soulmates au/ Enemies to lovers au. Angst, fluff, bickering, romance, eventual smut.

Word Count: 5106

Notes: There is a read more placed after the first paragraph, but we all know tumblr is weird so if it doesn’t show up I’m sorry :(

*****

Mondays sucked. You were pretty sure that was a hard and fast rule by now, but as you rolled up to school looking like an actual hot mess and with your sweatshirt on backwards (don’t ask, you weren’t actually sure how that happened but you did dress in the dark this morning so…) you were even more sure of that fact.

Ella complained the entire way about your mom not being able to drop you off and now you felt like your ears were bleeding as she rushed off in the direction of her friends; a new audience to voice her frustrations to.

You hiked your bag higher on your shoulder, aiming for the doors of the school. You had an AP bio test today that you’d spent the weekend studying for, which sucked because those were hours of your life you couldn’t get back and would rather have given to Lucas. As it was, he had only about a week and a half left before he had to go back for the next semester.

He insisted that when you graduated you could just go to college with him and then you’d get more time together…it just felt so far away. The hallways were filled with the zombies of the weekend and the others that were far too chipper this early in the morning. You liked to think you fell somewhere in between. You weren’t exactly happy to be awake, but you’d made it past the point of zombie thanks to a clumsy journey of dressing yourself in the darkness of your room.

The sea green of your locker came into view and you shuffled up to it, twisting the combination into the lock and pulling it open. AP bio was first so at least you could get the test out of the way and breathe a little easier after.

“Hey there, sister in law.”

You turned to find Lillian, long strawberry blonde hair swept up into a ponytail and a goofy smile attached to her barbie pink lips. “Wow, that’s a statement.” You said, pointing at her mouth and she grinned wider, shrugging the books in her arms higher.

“Figured I’d give something new a try. Is it a good statement or a bad statement?”

You turned to look at your friend, frowning in dismay. “We’ve been over this, everything on you is a good statement, you rude girl. You can’t be smart, nice, and beautiful too. You need to share with the rest of us.”

“Oh stop,” Lillian chuckled, “you’re literally the entire package, Y/N, so I don’t even want to hear it.”

Noelle came strutting up beside you, hip pressed to the lower locker next to yours, sunglasses still covering her eyes and eyebrow raised. “Did I hear correctly? Is one Mr. Jeon Jungkook really your English tutor?”

“Wha-?” You spluttered, watching as Noelle pushed her sunglasses from the bridge of her nose and to the crown of her head. “Why would you even think that? Are people seriously saying that? The tea must be empty if that’s what people are concerned about.”

“I don’t hear a denial,” Noelle sing songed and you rolled your eyes, grabbing your AP Bio book and closing your locker.

"OK, no, I’m gonna go ahead and put a stop to that right now. He’s not my English tutor, I’d rather choke. I do take my education seriously, though, so I probably should find a tutor.”

“Seriously enough to take advice from your worst enemy?” Noelle asked, turning to walk beside you as you and Lillian began walking towards your classes. “Wow, this must be the real deal.”

“It’s really not.” You muttered darkly and you could see Noelle grinning from the corner of you eye. “And I just told you he’s not my tutor. Anyway, this is my class so I’ll see you guys later. Bye!” You waved quickly, stepping into the classroom and going to take your seat.

******

After lunch was finished and you retreated to your English lit class, you waited until Jungkook and pool party Barbie were seated before going and finding a seat as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, that meant the back right corner, but beggars couldn’t be choosers in a situation like this.

Ms. Collins passed back the first draft of your essay, weaving her way around the room and you frowned down at the very average C written in dark blue ink. You would never get the hang of this crap. No matter what you did, you couldn’t figure out what you were doing wrong.

You sighed, shoving the essay into your backpack and scratching at the wood of your desk with your fingernail. “Remember,” she said, now standing back at the front of the room, “the second draft is due this time next week so make sure you’re doing your research and putting in the effort; you don’t have much time to slack off.”

The lesson passed with you taking a few measly notes and a new list of words you needed to memorize for a small spelling test next week. Ms. Collins then turned on the Kenneth Branagh version of Hamlet and you sat back to try and comprehend at least some of it. You weren’t sure what Shakespeare was on, but it had to be good considering he was making up words and crap and still managed to become one of the greatest playwrights of all time.

The bell rung, signaling the end of class and you lifted your bag onto the table, sliding your books into your bag as you allowed the rest of your classmates to trickle from the room. You just wanted some time to pout by yourself. What was the point in a second draft if you still had no clue what you were even doing wrong in the first draft?

Standing sluggishly, you made your way to the front of the room, eyes trained on the door as you began to prepare yourself for a refresher on the Civil war.

“Y/N, can I speak to you really quick?” Ms. Collins smiled and you nodded, pulling at the strap of your bag and walking to her desk.

“Everything OK?” You asked.

“Well, I’ve noticed you’re having a bit of a tough time with some of our assignments so I wanted to talk to you about the idea of me assigning you a tutor from class.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I have thought about getting a tutor but I wasn’t actually sure how to go about finding someone in the class with the time and skills to help me.”

“It’s no problem, I’ve already got someone in mind. Actually, I asked him earlier if he’d be willing to help out and he said he’d be happy to.”

“Oh!” You smiled in surprise. “That’s great, I really appreciate it.”

“Great, so I’ll let Jungkook know you are game and you guys can figure out the details.” She smiled, shuffling some papers around on her desk and you felt like your heart fell into the pit of your stomach.

“Jungkook?” You stuttered, and she looked up at you.

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

“Ah,” you hesitated, glancing around the room in discomfort, “It’s just, we…have our differences.”

“Well, he’s the highest in the class and he’s got time until the soccer season starts in the spring. He’s the best candidate. Perhaps it’s best to put differences aside. I’m all for positive collaboration and learning to work with people you don’t always get along with; you’ll need those skills when you’re older and going into the workforce.”

You sighed, nodding and pouting. “I know, it’s just…Jungkook and I have a weird history.” You mumbled, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the floor.

“Maybe it’s time to let bygones be bygones.” Ms. Collins smiled. “Anyway, you better run, class starts soon. Just give it a try for me, hmm?”

You sighed, nodding. There was no point in fighting against it; Ms. Collins was nice, but bullheaded. When she’d made up her mind, you couldn’t change it. “OK.”

After school you sulked your way to the courtyard. Ella had texted to tell you she was meeting up with friends and not to wait up and you still couldn’t get the whole Jungkook being your new tutor crap out of your head.

“Y/n!” Someone shouted and you turned to find Noelle running to your side, long dark curls swinging haphazardly around her face. “Are you walking home?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking over her shoulder, “you wanna join?”

“Yes please!” She grinned. Just as you started walking again another person was calling out your name and you turned your head just in time to see Jungkook coming to walk beside you.

“What do you want?” You grimaced. He smirked, nodding his head at Noelle in greeting before turning his attention back to you.

“Ms. Collins told me you agreed to tutoring. When did you want to set something up?”

You grumbled under your breath. Of course, she’d already told him. “I don’t know, to be honest I don’t think you could even take this seriously. Maybe we should just call it off. I’m fine with just skating by. English isn’t my thing, that’s ok.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, bumping your shoulder with his and you frowned up at him. “Of course, I’ll take this seriously,” he said, “I do some paid tutoring on the side and it would hurt my reputation to mess it up with someone out of spite.”

“I’m not paying you, Jungkook.” You said, linking your arm with Noelle who was listening quietly by your side.

“No payment necessary, I’ll tutor you for free since we’re such good friends.” He grinned.

You scoffed. “Since when?”

“Come on, Y/N, help me build my tutoring portfolio. Besides, I already told my mom about it yesterday after Ms. Collins asked so your mom will probably be expecting it.”

“Geez, do you share everything with your mom?” You sneered.

“Absolutely.” He chuckled. “So, what do you say?”

Noelle nudged your side and you glanced at her. “Come on,” she smiled, “you were talking about needing a tutor anyway. Jungkook’s really smart, let him help you.”

“Fine.” You sighed, “But if you pull any funny business, I swear I’ll castrate you.”

“Scouts honor!” He saluted and Noelle giggled as he sent a wink her way.

“Well, anyway,” she said, pushing some hair from her face, “I need to head this way. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“So really we can start anytime,” Jungkook continued as you resumed your walk home, “we could even start tonight if you wanted to. I could help you with the second draft.”

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, forcing your gaze anywhere but him. His hair was parted and swept off to each side, dark and slightly too long, reaching just passed his eyes. He pushed his hair back with his hand as though he could hear your thoughts and you sighed. Why was he so good looking? You hated him.

“Come on, no backing out now. I swear, I’ll be a good boy, just let me help you.” He smiled, three fingers up in a scout’s honor.

“Fine,” you acquiesced, “but any funny business and I swear I’ll punch you straight up the butthole.”

“Graphic,” Jungkook nodded, “I like it.”

You walked up the pathway to your house, Jungkook trailing behind you. Sliding the key from your pocket, you unlocked the door and made your way inside, kicking your shoes off at the threshold. Jungkook closed the door behind him, stepping from his shoes and into the hallway.

“Mom, I’m home!” He called, and you looked up at him with a frown.

“Jungkook?” Your mom called, stepping from the kitchen with a smile, “hey honey, what are you doing here?”

Your mom wrapped her arms around his waist, patting his back and you huffed. Your mom didn’t even show this much love to you. “Hi sweetie,” she smiled at you as an afterthought and you smiled tight.

“I’m here to tutor Y/N in English.” He smiled and your mom grinned, patting his arm.

“Oh, that’s right, your mom told me you were probably going to be doing that. That’s so kind of you! Did you say thank you, Y/N?”

You huffed deep in your chest while plastering a smile across your face, “of course mom. Jungkook knows I’m grateful.”

“Yeah, Y/N is great,” he said enthusiastically, slinging his arm around your shoulders and you tried your best to hold your squeal of disgust. “Actually, she even told me she wanted to make me dinner some time, as a thank you.”

“Really?” Your mom smiled at you and you smiled tightly at Jungkook.

“Oh, yeah.” You huffed; chest tight with indignation. “Wow, yeah, well, I’m just so grateful after all.”

“I’m so glad you two are such good friends.” Your mom smiled, squeezing your elbow. “How about you stay for dinner, Jungkook? I could text your mom.”

“That would be great, actually. They’re going out on a date so it’s fend for yourself night.” He chuckled and your mom practically belly laughed. Mortifying.

“Anyway,” you called loudly, grabbing Jungkook’s forearm, “we’re gonna get started on that English assignment.” Jungkook waved at your mom as you pulled him up the stairs, closing the door behind you and dropping your backpack on your bed.

“Man, haven’t been in here in years.” Jungkook whistled, dropping his bag at his feet and scanning the walls of your room.

“You haven’t exactly been welcome.” You muttered and he looked over at you with a smirk, eyebrows wiggling.

“But I am now?”

“I thought you said you were going to be good!” You seethed and he held up his hands in defeat.

“Fair enough. Ok, grab your stuff and let’s get started. Where should we sit?”

You sighed, looking around your room. “Let’s just sit on the bed, my desk only has one chair and the carpet is uncomfortable.”

He nodded, grabbing his bag and bringing it with him, sitting cross legged on the end of your bed and digging through his backpack for everything he needed.

You took your place at the top of the bed, a pillow behind your back and one in your lap. “Here, hand me your latest essay so I can see what I’m working with.” Jungkook said, taking a notebook from the front pocket of his backpack and clicking his pen to life.

You pulled your essay from your assignments folder, handing it over gingerly. “I swear, if you make fun of me…”

“I promise I won’t. I really meant it when I said I take this gig seriously. It’s how I’m making extra cash right now.” He stared down at your work, pen twirling between his fingers as he read. Every once in a while, he’d hum and make a note in his book before continuing on.

You watched in apprehension as he flipped the page in silence. After finishing the essay, he made more notes in his book, chewing on the end of his pen in thought. “OK, so one big problem that I see right away is that your paragraphs are not well connected. You have certain ideas you want to connect, right, but instead of connecting them from paragraph to paragraph you’ve kind of left them disjointed. So, it’s like, in paragraph one you’ve talked about how Hamlet’s goal is to avenge his father’s death and the consequences of that choice and then in paragraph 2 you’re suddenly talking about Ophelia’s death, which doesn’t necessarily connect, but you could connect it with the idea of foreshadowing the royal families demise. Then in paragraph three you continue on talking about why you think Ophelia and Hamlet’s relationship is significant, but again, it doesn’t exactly have a connection to Hamlets attempt at revenge or even her death so it feels disconnected. You also have a habit of telling and not showing. You’ve gotta let the evidence speak for itself.”

“Wow…” you breathed, lips pursed in thought, “that is not at all what I thought you’d say. OK…so then what would you suggest?”

“Well,” he sighed, “if I’m being honest, I’d suggest a complete overhaul. This was just the first draft so there’s of course going to be lots of room for growth. You’ve got some pretty solid ideas; I just need to help you find a better way of connecting those ideas together.”

“So, it’s not a complete loss?” You asked, shoulders loosening slightly.

“Naw,” he shrugged, “we can definitely work with this. Your writing voice is pretty decent, you just need to figure out how to get the ideas you have in your head down on paper in a better way. It’s almost mathematical, like how you build an equation.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “this is nothing like math, Jungkook.”

He grinned, shrugging, “I don’t know, you have to formulate ideas, make a base and build on top of that. There are formulas to writing, you know? You just have to solve them.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll take your word for it. So, what would you say I do now?” You asked, biting your bottom lip nervously.

“Let’s work on making an outline, we can even spider diagram it if you need to.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, “if that works.”

By the time your mother called you down for dinner, Jungkook had helped you to map out all your ideas on a spider diagram and even start writing down your first few paragraphs on your laptop, helping you to see how you could tie your different ideas together to make your essay more cohesive.

“The spider diagram seems to really help you,” Jungkook said, trailing after you down the hallway towards the kitchen, “you should use it more often to sort out your ideas so you have a basis of how you want to start and where you want to go from there.”

Stepping into the kitchen, you grabbed a plate, loading it with the food your mother had left on the island for you to pick through. “Hey Jungkook.” Ella smiled from across the countertop, grabbing some fruit for her own plate. “My mom mentioned you were here.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “just helping Y/N with an essay she’s writing.”

“Completely hopeless, right?” Ella joked and you scowled at her.

“Actually, she’s doing pretty well. She’s got some really good ideas, it’s just all about finding the best way to get them down on paper. She’s picking it up pretty quickly.”

“Thanks, Jungkook.” You murmured, looking up at him in surprise.

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” He grinned.

He made his way to the dining room, Ella hot on his tail with conversation he was a willing audience to and you watched him go in curiosity. Why was he being so…decent?

“How are your AP classes coming, Y/N?” You mom asked, taking a sip of her water as you pushed a piece of broccoli across your plate.

“They’re fine,” you shrugged, “pretty easy as long as I study the material.”

“And you came up with an idea for your science project?” She continued, taking a bite of her food.

“Yeah, I’ve got a general idea for what I want to do.” You said. Jungkook turned to look at you, eyebrows rising.

“You’ve already figured out your science project?” He asked, voice husky with surprise, “we don’t even have to start working on that until the spring.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, starring down at your plate in embarrassment. “I like to be prepared. I’m a bit of a nerd I guess.”

You could see Ella nodding out of the corner of your eye and just before you could extend your foot to kick her in the shin, Jungkook continued. “No way, I think that’s super cool. The science fair always takes so much time and preparation; it’s cool that you’re trying to get ahead of the game.”

You stared at Jungkook, eyebrows furrowed, but Ella distracted him with conversation about how prepared she was for all of her classes so you could only ruminate to yourself. What was Jungkook’s deal? Was he seriously trying to bury the hatched like he’d proclaimed? There was no way.

“What about you, Jungkook, honey?” Your mom said, turning her attention to him after asking Ella all about her school activities, “what have you been doing recently?”

“Mostly doing school work, but I’ve been doing some tutoring on the side to make money while I’m not in sports.”

“This is your last year playing soccer, do you think there are going to be scouts when you get into the season?” She inquired, finishing off her water and grabbing the pitcher to pour more.

“Yeah, maybe.” Jungkook nodded, “but we won’t know for sure until it’s closer to the season.”

“Well you never know, you could get a sports scholarship to a lot of different schools, pay your way through college!” Your mom smiled, offering the pitcher of water to your sister who shook her head, taking a bite of her food instead.

“That’s true.” He nodded.

“Where’s dad, by the way?” You asked, glancing back out the door to the kitchen.

“He’s just coming late from work; told us to eat without him.” Your mom remarked, finishing her plate and standing, “want me to take yours?” She asks, motioning to your plate and you nodded, allowing her to collect it from you and take it to the kitchen.

After the four of you finished dinner you cleaned the kitchen, putting away the food and dishes before Jungkook ran to grab his bag from your room and you showed him to the door. “You should try and finish the essay tonight so that you can show me tomorrow at school and I can give you some more pointers.” He said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and you held the door between the two of you as he put one foot over the threshold.

“By tonight?” You huffed, pouting down at the floor and he grinned.

“Better to be proactive, right?”

You shrugged, sighing, twisting the door knob in your hand. “Yeah, I guess.”

He nodded, backing out the door, “Cool, well, see you tomorrow.” He waved and turned to head towards his own place, just a few houses down the road.

You sighed, closing and locking the front door, staring up the staircase towards your room where you’d left your laptop with your essay on it. The last thing you wanted to do right now was go upstairs and work that essay.

With a huff, you grabbed hold of the railing, dragging yourself up the stairs and into your room. The paper wasn’t going to write itself and you needed to do it now while Jungkook’s advice was fresh in your head.

By the time you were finished, everyone else had already gone to bed so you were shuffling quietly into the bathroom to go brush your teeth. You had about 6 hours to sleep and you intended to make the most of it.

******

You dreamt of Jungkook dressed as Hamlet. Your mood was especially crabby because of it, but you managed to remember to print out your second draft for him to read so that was something positive, at least.

“You ready to go?” Your mom asked, peeking her head into your room as you finished packing your backpack.

You nodded, throwing your bag over your shoulder and following her down the stairs. Ella was already sat in the back of the car, which surprised you, but you figured your mother must have insisted since she was such a shotgun hog all the time.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you dropped your bag by your feet, fastening your seatbelt and leaning your head back against the rest with eyes closed. All you could picture was Jungkook in a stupidly good looking houppelande and puffy shorts, but he was wearing a hat with a feather sticking from the top and drooping down the back of his head and somehow that made you feel so much better about the whole thing.

The ride was mostly silent. You could hear the music from Ella’s earphones, but there was no conversation and it gave you a few minutes to let the irritation from your dream wear off before you arrived at school. The last thing you wanted to do was take your frustrations out on your innocent friends.

“Have a good day at school!” Your mother called as the two of you stepped from the car and you waved. “I’ll be in the pick-up line at the end of the day, Ella.”

Jungkook was waiting at one of the outdoor tables when you and Ella made your way towards the front entrance and he waved you over. Ella continued on towards her friends and you grit your teeth, turning to make you way towards him as he pulled the notebook and pen from his backpack once again.

“Morning!” He smiled as you sat across from him. The sun was already blinding and you had to squint to see him from where you were sitting. You readjusted your shorts; the bench a little too cool on your skin and nodded in greeting towards him. “Did you manage to finish your essay?”

“Yeah.” You murmured, pulling it from your backpack and handing it across the table to him.

He grabbed it from your hand, reading through while clicking the tip of his pen absentmindedly. After what felt like forever of you shifting awkwardly in your seat and looking around the courtyard at all of the other students beginning to make their way into the building, he finally cleared his throat, looking up at you.

“This is much better. There’s still room for improvement, but for a second draft I’m pretty happy with what you’ve done. I’m gonna make some notes and we can go over them after school.” He said, handing you back your essay and standing to pack his own things.

“I can’t today, I’m actually meeting up with Lucas after school.” You said, sticking your essay back in your homework folder and sliding that back in your bag.

“Oh,” he faltered, looking down at you, eyebrows wrinkling in the center. “Ok…well, maybe after you guys are done hanging out?”

“I don’t know when that will be.”

Jungkook pursed his lips, tugging his backpack over his shoulders. “Here, let me see your phone really quick.”

“Why?” You asked, handing it to him anyway.

After messing with your phone for about 30 seconds he handed it back to you, one recent outgoing call on the screen. “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll come over.”

With that, he walked towards the school where you could see Rachel waiting, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. “Sucks to be him.” You mumbled, before packing up your own stuff and heading to your first class.

*****

Thank you so much for waiting patiently for me to get this out! Now that my life has settled the next few chapters should come out much sooner than 6 months. My goodness, I’m so sorry you had to wait so long! I’m going to try and get myself back into a once a month posting schedule. Please be patient with me while I figure this out and please let me know what you think of this chapter! Your feedback means so much.

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

#jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #btscreatorsnet #bangtanarmynet

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sadistic-second · 5 years ago

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HOW I RUN MY BLOG.

SPEED: What is speed? I’d like to believe things are done as quickly as possible. Written word says that I’m pretty quick about things, 1-3 days tops. But if you’ve ever actually heard be vocalize my “speed” then well. :fingerguns: I’m a lazy piece of shit. So, that being said, depending on motivation levels that I currently possess, that reveals the speed in which I operate things here. But a good baseline is still 1-3 days.

REPLIES: For starters, I use thread tracker for all the threads I currently possess. And if I haven’t replied to something then I sincerely apologize. I am not ignoring you. I either fucked up tracking it (which I’ve done before) or something happened to the tracker itself. I know it had some issues recently. Can’t recall if it got fixed or not, but I know for a fact it fucked some of my replies up.

On that note, if I have taken longer than seven (7) days to reply to something, hit me up. Let me know. Either the tracker or I fucked up and I need to be told. As stated above, I usually take 1-3 days to reply to things. So if it has been at least that long and you’re still waiting on me for something, chances are the above happened.

You’d never know it by looking at the lengths of most (all?) my roleplays here, but I am a novella roleplayer at heart. Love me some details, bro. Setting scenes, getting the atmosphere just right, making sure you know for a fact what I’m doing at any given moment. Why? I dunno. That has a story in and of itself that will not be disclosed here.

But don’t let that discourage you. I am adaptable and I can be flexible to what my partner needs/wants. Will I get carried away sometimes? Absolutely. Do you have to panic and try and match? Not at all. You do you. I’ll do me. We’ll work it out, don’t worry.

STARTERS: Don’t at me, I already know I’m stepping into a baited trap.

Starters are nice. However, they take time to write and think up. That being said, if I’m writing it, you best believe it's tailored to you specifically. Though I do enjoy at least a basic idea discussion beforehand so I know what direction I’m supposed to take this, I can wing that shit like no tomorrow. Again, not that anyone would know since I haven’t exactly, uh . . . Done it yet. Rest assured, I have the list. I will be doing something eventually.

You can also tag me in starters if you want. I’ll notice and I’ll get the idea and we can go from there. If it's just something you came up with outta the blue or it's from an ask or whatever, all fine by me. I’m pretty much open to any and all ideas.

INBOX: Ahahah, my inbox. Yes. That motherfucker. Look. I have at least one meme queued for every single day up until the first week of August. Not quite sure what possessed me to do this, but you know. At least you’ll always at least have one thing to choose from to send me every day. Old memes, new memes, random ass shit you just thought of at 3am because you figured I’d like it, send that in. I’ll answer it.

Sure, okay, yeah. I’ve currently got week old memes sitting in there right now. And there are at least month old memes sitting in my drafts that I haven’t posted yet. Doesn’t mean I won’t answer them. Just gotta wait for that good ol’ inspiration to kick in.

Oh, and I hear Tumblr still eats things. So if you’ve sent me something and its been quite a while and you haven’t seen an answer, chances are I never saw it. I sincerely apologize. Send it again. Send something new. Eventually, I’ll see it. Tumblr can’t eat everything, right?

SELECTIVITY: What is selectivity? I’d write with a sentient stuffed animal if it had a good enough idea. Yes, I’m very aware of what that sounds like. Does that make me any less of a person, a writer, because I said that? Fuck no. I am more than willing to give anyone and everyone a chance provided you aren’t cringey.

Oh but Asher, what does that last bit even mean? Don’t be fucking weird. That’s all I ask. If you’ve got an idea, come to me with it and we’ll work something out. Don’t have an idea? We’ll talk about it. I will roleplay with you. I am by no means selective.

WISHLIST: OH BOY! A WISHLIST!

Although, I suppose this would be where I’m supposed to give you some semblance of ideas or stories that I would like to give a shot at. :fingerguns: What is creativity? I will admit that I like to spout out about how creative I am and shit. However, put me on the spot and I will go blank and make myself a fucking liar.

I’ll give you some hints though. Love me some angst. I am one angsty boy. Do your absolute worst. It takes a lot to make me feel things and only two people have managed to get me to the point of tears thus far in my Tumblr career. If you think you got what it takes, bring it on.

I’m still exploring Reno’s drug habit(s). So I guess that’s sort of a wish list idea?

I want an excuse to be sadistic. My fucking name is literally sadistic-second and I cannot recall an opportunity in which I have gotten to display that true nature. I think I’ve hinted at it before? I know there are a couple shorts that I’ve written floating around. I think you can find them under “Asher writes” and uh . . . Fuck, what was that other one I wrote recently? “Raw meat” brings it up in the search so there’s that, too.

So those are kind of wish list ideas? I guess?

HONEST NOTE: :dogekek: Bold of you to assume I have anything else left in me to put here. Nah, but like it was 2am when I wrote this. And you’re seeing it now at whatever the fuck time my queue put it at. Early morning, I know that.

I’ve done a lot of changing, a lot of growing up in the last year or so. Big life changes happened and well. You gotta adjust or ya kinda sink. And boy did I sink. But I’m back now. I’m better. I’m getting the hang of things once again.

No, but like what the fuck is supposed to go here? Oh, wait. I have an idea.

You guys want a better way to communicate with me? Ask for my discord. Tumblr messages are great and all, but uh . . . You’re more likely to get more out of me on discord than you are Tumblr. Why? I dunno. I’m always on discord. I’m kind of on Tumblr? Granted, I’m always on both places, but discord is where its at, man.

TAGGED BY: @that-turk-laney

TAGGING: Uh. Steal it, fam

#Just Asher Things

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makeste · 6 years ago

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a hero under construction

A.k.a. “yep I really went and tried to defend Bakugou ‘hey there bad decisions, it’s me, ya boi’ Katsuki in BnHA chapter one, if you can believe it. No, I don’t know why I suddenly felt the pressing need to do this either.”

So as you may know from sources such as: This Entire Blog, I like metaing about Bakugou. All sorts of meta! I have talked about Bakugou and Deku. Bakugou and Mitsuki. Bakugou and Determination, and Bakugou and Redemption.

But one thing I have not ever really talked about is Bakugou And That One Time He Told Deku To... You Know. The Thing. Because lol. That was so bad. You guys. Everyone agrees. Fandom doesn’t debate about this. That was a shitty, shitty thing.

And look, I’m not going to debate it either! Not really. But what I will say is that Bakugou Katsuki has always been my favorite BnHA character. Literally from the moment he was introduced. And I don’t feel like I’ve ever really adequately been able to explain why. I don’t gloss over his actions -- or at least I don’t think I do -- but to me those actions also don’t define him. Anyway, out of nowhere I had the sudden impulse to talk about this, so I’m gonna try and take a stab at it. Here goes.

So here’s Bakugou on page one of chapter one:

oh no baby what is you doing.

And then later on, all grown up! Not really though. But you know, older.

Yes, he really was my favorite right from this moment. Quote:

“YOU ASSHOLE, TWO SENTENCES IN AND I’M ALREADY POSITIVE YOU’RE GOING TO BE MY FUCKING FAVORITE. YOU’RE SECRETLY SENSITIVE AREN’T YOU. WITH A TRAGIC PAST. OR SELF-ESTEEM ISSUES THAT YOU’RE OVERCOMPENSATING FOR. YOU SON OF A BITCH. YOU PIECE OF SHIT”

He absolutely was a piece of shit too, the little fucker.

But anyway, the point is, I knew right away. And it’s not like I just went “OH MY GOD WHAT AN ASSHOLE I LOVE HIM” or anything lol. The thing is, it wasn’t Bakugou himself that I immediately fell in love with on the spot. It was his inevitable redemption arc. That shit was written in the stars from day one. It was inescapable. You do not introduce the main character’s antagonistic childhood friend (you can put air quotes around “friend” if you like), who wants to go to the same school as him and seems to be living a charmed life up until this point with everything going for him, and who is, to be blunt, a Humongous Shithead, and not have a redemption arc planned for him. Some things are just fate, guys. So anyways, yeah, I saw that and I immediately went “oh my god, it’s going to be so good,” and I decided right there and then that the only expedient thing to do was to go ahead and make him my favorite right there, before the proverbial ink had so much as dried.

Like, to put this another way. You know Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban? Specifically the part where Harry explains how he was suddenly able to cast a perfect Patronus charm in order to save Sirius and his own past self? “I knew I could do it this time, because I’d already done it... Does that make sense?” Anyways, you see, what happened here is sorta like that. When I first saw Katsuki, he was not immediately my favorite. But I knew that he would be, because two decades of reading shounen manga has helped give me a sixth sense for honing in on this very specific type of character arc. Rivalries, character development, the works. And pretty much the second I laid eyes on this little shit, I fucking knew he was gonna have that kind of arc. And if he did, he would become my favorite. So I thought I’d save time and make him my favorite right there and then. So I did. And I’ve never regretted it. Basically, I don’t love him because of who he is; I love him for who I have faith that he will become (and in the more recent chapters is, in fact, becoming).

Anyways, now that we’ve established that, just understand that all of this was in the back of my mind the whole time as I went on to read the rest of the chapter, and indeed, the series. So! Katsuki then goes on to brag about how he’s going to be the first AND ONLY!! student from Aldera Jr. High to get into U.A., before he blows up the main character’s desk for absolutely no reason. Which, by the way, their teacher just kind of sat back and let happen. You know, I tend to give the U.A. faculty a lot of grief, but maybe I should ease up on them some. The standards for teaching in this society are really kind of abysmal.

Anyway, so we should probably just fast-forward to The Thing already.

Oh Deku, honey. Nah that ain’t gonna happen.

So then,

Like, just in case it wasn’t clear enough before. Katsuki is, in fact, being a big ol’ anus.

And just in case it still wasn’t clear enough!

Honestly, I know fandom has zeroed in on the scene that takes place one page after this, but truth be told, I feel like this was arguably even crueler than that. If only because he went right for the thing Deku values most. He knows how important those notebooks are to him. This wasn’t just the physical destruction of Deku’s property (which is bad enough); it was also a direct attack on Deku’s aspirations. He’s trying to stomp them out. He specifically stayed after class to torment him just for that purpose.

Anyways, he goes on to reiterate that he’ll be the first and only student from Aldera to go to U.A., and then he tells Deku “don’t you dare get into U.A., nerd.” Which is what this entire scene boils down to, really. Bakugou, despite giving Deku endless grief for being quirkless, and repeatedly telling him he doesn’t stand a chance and needs to face facts, in truth feels threatened enough by Deku applying to U.A. that he goes to all of this effort just to try and scare him off. He doesn’t tell him “you’ll never get in”; he doesn’t even say “don’t try to get in.” It’s specifically, “don’t you dare get in.” Even here, at his very worst, at his most arrogant and cruel and physically violent, we can see hints of the insecurity that’s secretly at the root of this entire thing.

Anyways. And then...

Hahaha okay sob so we have finally come to this.

Look. I’m not gonna turn around and start defending this. I absolutely will not. The actions are indefensible. What I will defend, however, is the fourteen-year-old boy who made them. Because he is just that -- a fourteen-year-old boy. In other words, a kid. A very stupid, mean kid, who was old enough to know better. Youth doesn’t excuse everything. But I’m not going to condemn a child for life because of the shitty things they did at age fourteen. Fourteen is a very stupid age. No offense to any teenagers reading this! There are plenty of teenagers who do manage to navigate adolescence without temporarily losing their fucking minds. But I think it’s fair to say that just about everyone makes at least one or two mistakes during that period. Most people wind up with at least a few regrets. Which is honestly a good thing. It’s natural. If you don’t screw up at least once or twice growing up, you don’t get the chance to learn from it.

Anyway, so yeah. That’s my defense. He’s a kid. Maybe to some people it’s a weak defense. And yeah, maybe I’m too forgiving! Again, though, I’m not saying it’s in any way okay. What I am saying is that I don’t believe in one-strike-and-you’re-out. Especially if it’s a child. Yes, some people never change, and they keep on being shitty people for the rest of their lives. But for the most part, people are trying their best. And for kids and teenagers especially, I’m just about always willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, and trust them to keep trying to do better. Kids aren’t completed works; they’re still only rough drafts. And this applies to Katsuki as well. He’s still an effort in progress. A hero under construction.

Anyway, though. Basically you either cancel Bakugou after this scene, or you don’t. If you don’t, then let’s go ahead and keep moving forward. So how does Deku react to all of this?

Honestly, I think this here is a scene that doesn’t always receive its share of consideration. There are two things that stand out to me here. First, that Deku’s reaction to his former friend telling him to jump off a roof is to get frustrated about what a stupid fucking thing that was to say, because Katsuki could get in trouble for it. Never mind that this asshat just burned your notebook and joked about you killing yourself! He’s angry because Katsuki didn’t fucking think for two seconds before saying something which could have potentially had such devastating consequences for him, let alone Izuku.

Just. Okay. So not that this makes it any better, mind! But it is worth pointing out nonetheless, because it’s a definite Thing in fandom for people to sometimes retcon Deku’s reaction to this and make this one incident into The Single Biggest Issue From Their Entire Fucked Up Childhood. Like, I’m talking about those fanfics where it somehow gets out that Hey Guys, One Time Bakugou Told Deku To Kill Himself, and Deku is all angry and tearful about it, and Bakugou is super guilty and Ashamed, and everyone is horrified and there is Fallout and Drama and so forth, and then usually some kind of reconciliation afterwards. Which is nice. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be nice to have that kind of catharsis. But what I am trying to say is that I think fandom perhaps places more weight on this one particular incident than the canon does. Or the characters, for that matter. Because while Izuku has every right to feel horrified, and Katsuki by all rights should probably be losing a bit of sleep in his guilt over this, the reality in canon seems to be that neither of them ever treated it as that big of a deal. Possibly because it never occurred to either character for even an instant that Izuku might actually go through with it. I honestly don’t think Katsuki would have said it if he’d thought otherwise. Not that that’s an excuse either, because there was no way for him to actually know. But just trying to get into his mindset here, I honestly don’t think it entered his mind that Deku would try it. And clearly Deku never entertained the thought either. So in that regard, Katsuki basically just got very, very lucky.

Moving on to the second of the two things I mentioned, what does hurt Deku more than the go kill yourself implications, I think, are the I literally do not give a shit about you implications that naturally accompany a statement like this. And that, more than anything, is the sentiment I think Katsuki was actually trying to get across. I don’t care about you at all. I have so little regard for you that it wouldn’t bother me if you died. Which of course is equally as terrible a sentiment as the other, if not more so. It’s an exceptionally cruel thing to imply. But it’s what he wanted to express, regardless. Because, again, he has an entire dissertation’s worth of insecurities when it comes to Deku, and as we learn later on, he’s gotten the idea somehow that Deku is purposely mocking him and trying to knock him down a peg. And so this is his retaliation; his way of trying to deal with what in truth is his own self-imposed baggage. Meanwhile Deku is just trying to mind his own business -- contrary to popular belief, I think he has gotten the message by this point that Katsuki doesn’t want him following him around -- but he still refuses to relinquish his own dream of getting into U.A. and becoming a hero, no matter how out of reach it may seem. And so he puts up with the abuse, because he can’t fight back, but he’s not willing to back down, either. Basically things are tense!! And shitty!

Anyway, so that’s pretty much my breakdown of The Thing. This meta isn’t done yet, though! Because obviously no “Bakugou in chapter one” meta would be complete without an analysis of what I'd argue is actually the much more important Thing that also happens in this chapter. Namely, this:

Hahaha. Welcome to being a character in shounen manga, kid. When that karma train loops back around, it loops hard.

So! Bakugou stomps around some alleyways with his fellow middle school lowlives grumping about how Deku pisses him off. It’s worth noting that he already understands he’s done something wrong, here. His buddies even call him out on it -- “you went too far today” -- and his only argument is that “it’s his fault for messing with me.” He knows he was a shithead. Rather than denying it, he’s already moved on to trying to justify it. Really he’s just got too much pride to admit he went too far. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s actually one of the reasons he’s so angry in this scene, even. He knows he done fucked up, and that just pisses him off more. Anyway so then he suddenly gets eaten by a giant blob, which. Yeah, this is BnHA. That can sometimes happen.

Let’s go back for a moment and talk more about the “GO KILL YOURSELF” thing! In real life, how would you deal with that situation? Like, imagine that it’s your job to discipline this kid. And assuming also that you work at a school that actually has policies about bullying, rather than teachers who just sit around filing their nails while the kids blow up each other’s desks. But anyways, my guess is it’d probably be some combination of suspension, detention, and/or community service, etc. But here’s the thing -- punishment can only go so far in dealing with the underlying issue. The real goal is to change the behavior. So there should be some measures to address that as well. Mentoring, behavior contracts, counseling, whatever. You don’t want the thing to happen again. You want the pattern of behavior to change.

Anyway, because BnHA society has massive problems which no one seems interested in tackling, this of course doesn’t happen, and Bakugou appears to get away scot free as far as Official Consequences For His Actions. But, because this is shounen manga, and we can’t just let our characters carry on not developing, something does happen instead which fortunately gets the ball rolling toward Redemption in its own unorthodox way. Namely, Katsuki gets eaten by the aforementioned giant blob, and Deku saves him.

That’s right! That Deku! Who, and I cannot stress this enough, bears absolutely no responsibility for Katsuki’s predicament at all, despite what he might think. Deku, whom none of us are worthy of in the slightest. Deku, despite being powerless, despite having no quirk, is the only person to try and do anything at all to save Katsuki, who -- and I can’t stress this enough, either -- is fucking dying. Like, holy shit. How the hell did this whole thing go from zero to fuCKED UP!! in such a short period of time?? just. !!

Anyway, so remember the part earlier where I said like a dozen times in a row, "he’s just a kid”? Yeah, I feel like that bears repeating just one more time.

Yeaaaaah. Fuck me so hard. Like hell there was ever even a chance of me ever not adopting this toxic fucking shitnugget after this. Just go ahead and fade me now. I know what my weaknesses are, and they are: This. Just, all of this.

Because here’s the thing about Katsuki: he tries to be tough, but he’s not. Not really. Not yet. He’s strong! He’s determined! But he’s still young, and far more fragile then he’d ever want people to think. All of his shitty behavior stems from the fact that he’s much less sure of himself than he puts on. He’s someone who has always been the best, and wants desperately to be THE best, and it also just so happens that he has absolutely no idea what he would do if he wasn’t. If he ever failed. If he wasn’t strong. And he’s scared shitless of it, and every last one of his most despicable actions stems from that fear.

But because he’s so bullheaded, he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge any of this, and persists in applying the only solution to this problem that he can think of: just fucking get stronger, and also CRUSH!!! anyone who dares to get in your way. If you’re afraid of being weak, then just don’t be weak. Don’t you dare. And so he doesn’t. He persists in Being Strong even to his own detriment. Even when it destroys his closest friendship. Even when it reaches the point where he can’t take joy in anything less than total victory. Even when it warps him into someone others see only as a villain. As Uncle Iroh once said, Pride is not the opposite of shame, but its source.

So he tries to be tough. And he puts up an incredible fight, honestly. This thing is suffocating him. We know from Deku’s earlier POV just how painful and frightening of an experience it is. But he fights back regardless. He doesn’t give up. But he’s terrified. We can see it, in this scene, in case it wasn’t already apparent. He’s struggling, he can’t breathe, no one is helping him, everyone’s just watching. He’s not strong enough to beat this thing on his own. He’s a child, and he’s dying. Like, fuck, though.

And I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that this is probably the first time in his life that Katsuki has ever actually felt helpless. All his life, he’s been afraid of being weak, but he hasn’t ever actually been weak, though. But this, now, is something he’s actually powerless against. For the first time in his life, he’s up against something that not his quirk nor his intelligence nor his sheer stubbornness can get him out of. And the ironic thing is that he’s spent his entire life mocking Deku for being useless and weak. But here, for this one critical moment, the roles are reversed. Katsuki is now the one who is powerless.

And it’s Deku who comes to save him.

Fucking look at how Horikoshi devotes an entire panel to the notebook flopping down on the ground, though. The same notebook Katsuki burned earlier that day. Because Horikoshi likes to really get in there and make you feel that searing irony deep in your bones.

Why, indeed. And we already know the answer, of course. No need to delve any deeper into that one again. Deku has many reasons, but truth be told, he only ever needed one.

That’s it. That’s all the reason he’ll ever need. No further questions asked.

And then All Might springs into action and rescues them both, and the whole dramatic scene ends. With both of my kids intact, much to my relief.

So, to recap! (1) Katsuki burns Deku’s notebook and tells him to off himself, because he’s a fucked-up little turd with a raging case of gifted child syndrome who was not thinking about any of the potential consequences of his actions, and also was just being a straight up jerk. (2) Katsuki then receives a karmic bitchslap in the form of A Giant Sludge Man, Come to Devour Him. And finally (3) Katsuki is saved by none other than the kid he was being a straight up dick to!

So after all of that, I think there’s only one thing we can say, really, and that is: Katsuki did you learn your lesson!?

KATSUKI WHY.

Lol okay, but. In all seriousness, I think it’s pretty clear here that he does realize that Deku just saved his fucking life after he, Katsuki, behaved like a piece of flaming hot garbage to him for eleven years. He understands the implications of that. Otherwise he wouldn’t have chased him down afterwards just to scream at him, “YOU ABSOLUTELY DID NOT SAVE MY LIFE!!” before stomping off to go sulk some more. Like, clearly he gets it. It’s just that his pride won’t let him acknowledge it out loud.

And it would be easy to look at this and say, “smdh, clearly he hasn’t changed a bit even after all of that.” Except that in the very next chapter,

And it would also be easy to say, “well woopty doo, he’s not actively deriding and bullying Deku anymore, finally, after a dozen years, and all it took was for Deku to save his fucking life. HOLY SHIT HOW ALTRUISTIC OF HIM, WHAT A GENEROUS FUCKING GUY, WE’RE NOT WORTHY, etc. etc.. And okay, yeah. Point made. I get it.

But still. Change is change. He realizes that what he did was wrong, and so he changes the behavior. As trivial a gesture as it might seem in comparison to the LITERAL DECADE OF ABUSE -- it’s still a gesture. It’s the start of something. A sign that he is in fact capable of learning, and that he might not be beyond redemption. And much in the same way that I won’t cancel a fourteen-year-old kid for doing shitty cruel immature fourteen-year-old kid things, I’m also not going to deride someone’s baby steps. Just because he doesn’t transform overnight into Deku’s devoted loyal follower doesn’t mean he’s not changing. It’s a process, is all. But one very much worth supporting and encouraging. Because Bakugou Katsuki plays redemption arcs on hard mode; but in spite of that, as with everything else, he plays to win. And when you’re starting from so low, the only thing you can do is rise.

Deku once said that Bakugou as a child was neither “bad” nor “good”, but that after he got his quirk, “he started down the path towards ‘bad.’” And from there, it took him another eleven years to course-correct and painfully start back on the path towards “good” again. But, crucially, he did. And that, right there, was the hardest part. Once you’re back on course, the only thing you have to do is keep moving forward, and not quit. And if there’s anything Bakugou excels at, it’s that. This one thing, he is very, very good at.

He’s still learning. But this is why we trust in the power of redemption arcs. As the saying that I just made up goes, Once a shithead, not always a shithead. You have to believe in the potential. People don’t write stories about characters who only ever stay exactly where they started from on square one. They just don’t. And Bakugou will not. He has not.

And I for one can’t wait to see the good this kid can do.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #makeste reads bnha #gotta hurry up and get all the bakugou essaying out of my system before he actually goes full redeemed #such is my excuse #really I'm just starting to feel the lack of a new chapter this week and the withdrawal is starting to set in #anyways this is a topic I've touched on in the past but never in depth #that first chapter #the one we so rarely speak of #katsuki you really were such a little ****#but I hope I got my feelings across without losing people amidst the waves of endless rambling #basically I apologize on behalf of this war criminal but I still have faith in him #he will make me proud I know it #bakugou meta

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helenarasmussen87 · 5 years ago

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Writing Asks

This the post where I know no one is going to ask me anyway.

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Something that is like a “Oh hey, what happens if we do THIS!” and go from there. Usually ends up having loads of emotions, comfort, angst, introspection, loads of kitchen sink dialogues, not too much action. Families, happy endings.

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Fluffy stuff and humourous stuff. I am a little too serious for either one and my humour is drier than the desert and very odd. So no.

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

Teacher and Student relationships. Necrophilia, abuse of all sorts, underage. Just not my thing. I’ve gotten unable to stomach a lot of grimdark and super dark stuff as I get older so I won’t write it. But go ahead if that’s your thing.

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Two, since I can’t have more than two on the burner. Learned THAT early on and they’re Terror AU’s One is a fixit, but with health complications and angst. The other is a Modern Day AU which has two professors falling in love after one gets injured and the other worked as an EMT and helps to take care of him and they fall in love.

5. Share one of your strengths.

I can offer insights on what flows and what doesn’t. I can also happily shred my own drafts if they don’t work.

6. Share one of your weaknesses.

Action. I work at it, but it’s not my favourite. Or war writing.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Danny had to turn his head away to hide his smile, because he knew that it was a legitimate concern for Jose. Most of the time, he had jumped into bed with his partners first and then did the mating dance.

Although extremely smart in other aspects, dating and social interactions were always a bit skewed, because he was always second-guessing himself and nervous as hell.

“That’s actually how things work out in these situations. At least it did for me and my ex and for me and Claude.” Danny explained calmly, making Jose nod and take another pull of his slurpee.

“So what do I do? Like is there a time when I bring up the possibility of us sleeping together?” Jose asked, the words slightly mumbled as he chewed on the straw.

“You don’t bring it up. You’ll just know when the time is right for it to happen. Sex isn’t what a relationship should be built on. Yes, it’s nice and it’s part of it, but it’s not the end all to be all. Trust me on this. It will happen if it’s meant to happen.” Danny explained, hoping that he had put it all in the plainest and simplest terms he could for his friend.

I am proud of this because it was majorly borrowing from life and I can see the difference from earlier writing.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Sergio laughed shortly. “I’ve already done enough of that, and look at where it’s gotten you. Yeah, legally I hold claim over you. I could make the club buy out your contract and sit at home all day, having litter after litter.”

Iker’s blood froze at that and he turned to look at Sergio to see if he really meant it, but Sergio’s face gave nothing away.

“Or I could sign your rights to the club and let them sell you wherever or to whomever. Take you out of Spain, or sell you to Getafe or Malaga. All of these things I could do. The club actually did bring it up at that meeting you didn’t show up for.”

Iker blinked, his hands going numb as Sergio’s wickedly honed words hit home.

“I’m not telling you this to hurt you. Or make you feel indebted. I’m telling this to you because you’re this close to losing your spot and that’s the last thing I want for you. But there’s only so much I can do for you.”

He sighed and looked at Iker dead in the eyes.

“I miss him too, Iker. I miss Antonio every fucking day. And I miss you.”

Iker swallowed hard as Sergio abruptly turned and left, slamming the front door and freeing him from the command so suddenly that Iker fell onto the couch and curled up in it.

He had no energy to do anything else. Not when he was all too aware he’d fucked up and fucked up big and needed to fix it.

Borrowed from life again and it was more of a dialogue that needed to be had when you finally realize how much you fucked up and how much you need to stop coasting and make it right.

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

ALL OF THEM! Kidding. I want to say the one I’m working on right now. I was lucky enough I got a ton of help fleshing it out. I can see the end of the 1st chapter and I am having a hell of a time writing Goodsir’s chunk. He’s turned out more emo and romantic than I was expecting.

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

The QuiObi prompts for the prompt week. Took me like two hours to knock them off and post.

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

Its a passion and a hobby. It helped me through a lot of rough patches and keeps me sane.

12. Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Mostly music or a change in life. I tend to write when everything is in flux with me.

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Just write. Worry about editing later. Once you have something on the paper, fixing it up becomes easier.

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Edit as you write. You don’t get anything done.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Oooh. I think it’s a toss up between my Qui-Gon/Jango fic in a pastoral setting where they have put their pasts behind and are farmers on Concord Dawn. Or the Werewolf fic I wrote during my RPF phase.

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Bloody hard. I would have to say Fitzier (Commander Fitzjames/Captain Crozier)

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Depends. Sometimes I go straight from beginning to end and sometimes I end up writing the middle and not figuring it out until later.

18. Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

Outlines. I have notebooks I jot down point form notes about the characters and the plot.

18. Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

Mine is a librarian or an alchemist trying to figure out answers and how things fit in.

19. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

A good playlist. Alone, in my room.

20. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

I revise it along the way when I sit down to write. Then before I post, I give it a once over to make sure it flows and makes sense.

21. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

All my old fics are honestly gone so I’m skipping this one.

22. If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

Honestly? The Duo and Heero one I wrote about them being in an abusive relationship where they split up, then got back together again. I was again writing from life, and I have seen couples who did overcome it, but looking back, I think I should have written it that they separated and went their own ways.

Keep in mind I was very young when I wrote this, and I was in an abusive relationship myself and didn’t realise it at the time. He hit me once, apologised and never did it again. But he did end up manipulating me, gaslighting me, and emotionally abusing me until I finally had enough and left.

23. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Yes. Loads of them due to me not wanting to finish them. Or the hosting sites going under.

24. What do you look for in a beta?

Someone who is honest, someone who knows the way I write, and has suggestions to fix those said things. But someone who is themselves is the best. Because they know what they want. Same here.

25. Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I do, simply due to lack of steady betas. Flow and story telling, but I also look for syntax and formatting as well as grammar. I will miss typos, so I run spell-check too. I mostly use a mental rubric. Teacher training.

26. How do you feel about collaborations?

I haven’t had a successful one due to the second person always deciding that they can’t follow through or up and disappearing. So I don’t do them.

27. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Oh my God! I read so much and so many different people that I can’t pinpoint three. I usually end up reading a fic or two, so I can’t say why I read the author.

28. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I haven’t done that. I do admit to having inspired by fics. I wouldn’t ever presume to do that. It just feels like a snub.

29. Do you accept prompts?

Not really. I can’t tailor write stuff consistently.

30. Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

Oh always! I end up liking the characters that somehow never make it until the end. And in the Terror, unless you want to write angst all the time, you HAVE to ignore canon. And I mean BOTH the book and the show, since the book is nasty. The show is amazing, but oh my god is it depressing.

31. How do you feel about smut?

Yes damned please!

32. How do you feel about crack?

Depends on how well it’s done. Sometimes it is needed. Sometimes it’s like “Why?”

33. What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

A bit tricky. I don’t mind non-con, but it has to be handled well. Dub-con, especially in A/B/O happens within context and it is usually dealt with. So I can tolerate that more than the first. Outright abuse, no.

34. Would you ever kill off a canon character?

Yes. Not often thought. But yes. I usually try and keep as many alive as I can though.

35. Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3, its a wild place and I love it for that reason.

36. Talk about your current wips.

It’s an AU where two professors that live in the same building and work in different faculties get thrown together and start to get to know each other. Due to circumstance, one gets injured and the other kind of volunteers to help take care of him, where they fall in love. The others in the vicinity do also. There’s Canadian shenanigans and baking.

37. Talk about a review that made your day.

That they really liked how I wrote Frank Randall and would like to see more with his son, an OC I created for the story.

38. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

I either delete, or give a generic reply and leave it. I’ve got stuff to do.

40. Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

Nope. It just doesn’t work for me.

*somewhere I fucked up on the number but here you are*

Whoever wants to do this.

#about the author #asks #memes

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