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happylittlemarmite · 4 years

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Creative Journal + Reflection

11/01/21- Week 12

DSD: For my do something different activity this week I’m using a phone with a sim card!! I know it’s silly, but for the last four years up until September i haven’t had a working phone. It really doesn’t bother me in the slightest as I'm used to it by now, but it bothers my friends as I'm always struggling filling in online forms with no contact information and always using other peoples phone numbers for deliveries etc. My boyfriend made me get a phone in September so i would be easier to reach but unfortunately i broke it over Christmas. It’s not an issue i saw as pressing considering I’ve gotten so used to not having a phone, but my boyfriend has been essentially trying to force me to let him buy me a phone, so i asked my mum if i could have my mobile phone from when i was living at home as a birthday present. It’s exciting to use some of the features and things but i dont feel like ive been missing out on much. The biggest change i have noticed since having a phone is observing other peoples social etiquette. I think it’s interesting how, as somebody used to being phone-less, I’m a lot more comfortable with silence than some of my friends. Sometimes I’ll realise everybody in the room is staring at their phone, with nothing on the tv or anything, and we’re all just sat in silence. I’m not one of these people who doesn’t have a phone or a tv and doesn't wear shoes or something, but it’s made me really think about my own social media consumption especially. I think having a break occasionally from phone use is something a lot of people could benefit from. You don’t realise how exhausting it can be to constantly have everything going on in your pocket at any given time; I shouldn’t be finding myself getting stressed about an email regarding an assignment in the middle of dinner.

Inspiration: For my final “interesting piece of media” I’ve been working on a title card and closing credits this week for a short film assignment. Having been assigned the role of “Graphics artist” it was important for me to try and find a way of working with limited materials and archived footage in order to create a visually cohesive piece. For the short film, we’ve carried out an interview following a man’s childhood experiences having moved to Australia for boarding school. Due to the nature of the topic, and the disposable style stills our subject has provided, i wanted to work on a rough sketchbook kind of theme. At first i was thinking a lot about what kind of fonts and visual grammar i could use to fit this theme, and eventually decided to make the credits and film them by hand. This I decided, is extremely fitting with the art style i use across my work. As important as digitally creating is now, i’m particularly interested in “hand-editing” or what I’ve grown to understand as “Analogue editing”. I’m not sure what the group were expecting from me in terms of Graphics so i can’t be 100% on their feelings towards it. Part of me feels like they’ll have expected standard white-on black rolling credits and so they’ll be pleasantly surprised, but the other part of me feels like they’re going to think i don’t know how to do that, or that i was being lazy?? even so I’m pretty pleased with how they turned out considering I’ve never done anything like this in moving image before.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1_qH-mxho0rotGEqNZkmD8nNwxbtk_kmj/view?usp=sharing

Reflection: I’ve found writing these creative journals to have been extremely useful to me in terms of documenting key points from lectures and being able to look back and see my own progression throughout the year. I love taking quick concise notes in lessons super fast so i can’t read my handwriting later on when I’m looking back my notes, so having everything typed up somewhere where i can just search for whatever topic or subject I’m trying to find all on one page has made things so much easier. It’s also encouraged me to think more about interesting media i see in my daily life. During college i started taking photos of interesting textures and patterns i thought i could use for my collage pieces, but i’d never thought to document interesting media i see. Even if it only started for the sake of these diary entries, I’ve got into the habit now of bookmarking or screen capturing any interesting media i see now for my own inspiration. I particularly want to work in graphics and branding/advertising, so it’s been good to start thinking more about advertisements i see out and about in more depth. It’s also made me start to explore media i previously wouldn’t have in new ways, I’m thinking more about the creative processes that are going into things and why elements appeal to me, what it is about those elements that appeal to me.

I think this module overall has really helped with my progression as a media practitioner, I’ve started approaching things with more of a planner hat than an ideas hat recently. In the documentary making module i mentioned above, my group have been extremely disorganised and the only kind of idea generation that would spark anything was me saying “should we make a mindmap?”. I’ve been able to apply some of the planning and teamworking skills i have learnt about on this course and it’s made things so much easier. It’s really interesting to think now in hindsight, about how for all these years in education and in work I’ve been instructed to plan something, solve a problem, do something in a group; but never told exactly how to do these things. I never would've thought i struggled with problem solving or idea generation before, but now i know new ways to do it i can say without a shadow of a doubt that i am nowhere near as good for it as i thought it was.

#Journal

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 5 years

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so prompted the other day from someone commenting on one of my personal posts lamenting on my poor time management skills and how I was a good-ish student without studying etc during early high school and then by year 10 I had fuck all idea how study..... I decided to look up adhd in girls. like obviously i am not self-diagnosing myself with it bc i know that it’s a super common and serious behaviour condition. but holy fuck, i just read something about it that hit me so fucking hard that.... fuck me. i just feel so attacked:

obviously I don’t relate to the softball practice bc I never did extracurriculars and I hated sport lmao. but the writing/writer bit. and “working overtime” to get a high grade on my english assignments..... as well as over-practicing my drama stuff at home and wanting my performances to be perfect.... i was known to basically everyone as a student who should’ve been in the top English class. but it was wrested away from me bc of my lack of understanding and appreciation for shakespeare in a year 8 in class assessment on Romeo & Juliet “being starcrossed lovers” that I basically failed bc I came out with a D instead of an A or a B. like fuck. this hit me hard.

they had another point about how the girl with adhd is usually the class helper- like I was in my english classes. bc I would edit everyone’s work, be their living thesaurus & dictionary, as well as giving everyone answers on the assigned texts, because i was the only person in my class who was bothered enough to read the texts in full and enjoy them. then I never received much thanks for it.

but my maths homework? never done. or my very occasional maths take-home assignments? done by my dad at the last minute when I remembered that excel was, in fact, an actual thing. hell I didn’t even do my CLASS WORK most of the time. i instead either half wagged my maths classes (I have several posts on this behaviour lmao) or purposely “fell asleep” in my maths classes as a joke for everyone to “wake me up (wake me up inside)” like Jeff from the wiggles. bc I thought it was funny. but now I’m 24 and never (really) learned how to read a graph or learned how to calculate the mean/median and average & range and mode or whatever the fuck, etc etc. like yeah. my maths is absolutely abysmal.

my geography homework and assignments? barely ever done. and again, at the vexation of the poor kids who were assigned to sit next to me and my year 9 geo teacher who liked me, my geo class work was never done to standard. and I would pull the same “wake up Jeff” routine in geography. even though I could’ve easily done well with that year 9 teacher and my year 10 geo teacher too bc at least we also got along.

my history homework and assignments? done, depending on the teacher, the topic and the type of history. like I was useless at modern history (bc I disliked it- especially australian history lmao minus Vietnam and maybe a bit of the Cold War era spy stuff... it was the politics lmao). but, on the other hand, I was pretty good at ancient history (until I had to try and write a historical essay- and that fucked me up big time in years 11/12 and also uni). i was also mega good at aboriginal studies (like aboriginal cultural history) when I swapped schools. but I dropped out of it, due to my fear of the major project which I knew I wouldn’t meet.... bc it was literally like 50% of the total subject mark at the end of year 12.

so then my focus aside from english & ancient history in year 12 became community and family studies/cafs/social studies and my technical theatre and events management course. which both ended up with marks near the 70s, I think, at the end of year 12. my teachers were good so I went okay.

my science homework? done sometimes, depending again on the topic and the teacher.... but also that one time one teacher wanted me to go to the regional science fair bc he thought my project was good.... but I didn’t do it bc i thought my work wasn’t that good and I didn’t want to do the extra effort of the boards and presenting it.... ESPECIALLY since I’d written that coke/coca-cola was “burp fuel” in my intro. like. burp fuel??? at the regional science fair? oh god. no. no thank you. that’s mortifying both back then AND now, looking back at it. but then again, maybe that’s the part my teacher wanted me to omit in the “clean up”/editing of my work for the science fair lmao. my biology stuff in years 11/12 though? awful. so much so that I solely passed year 12 bio with the miracle of mark scaling. and this was despite the efforts of one of my friends trying to tutor me in our shared free periods.

and obvs my PE stuff was never done.... even that one assessment that was writing/illustrating a kids book about how to be healthy. which if I’d done it, I would’ve probably gone well. but it was my utter distrust of the PE/sport faculty and loathing of sport, and also the fact that when I tried to write it; it didn’t seem authentic or genuine.... that drove me not to do that assignment.

aside from academics/grades.... the other thing that hit me was that adhd girls are typically seen as the “funny/loud/tomboy” etc girls but are also exceedingly shy. like that full on attacked me too. bc it’s exactly like my flip from catholic school to public school. going from being the loud & funny sailor mouth girl who sometimes asked crass questions in PE due to the shows she watched and to see if people would laugh and did whack shit in her drama classes..... but with mostly topsy-turvy marks. to being the quiet shy and suddenly high achieving former private school girl at public school who never did any loud shit out of the blue. like. yeah. like now when I look back at my facebook statuses about me in drama class or other dumb shit I did outside of drama class in catholic school I’m like “hmmm, can’t relate” and “what the FUCK that was ME??? I don’t know her.” bc of the nervous wreck that I actually am lmao.

there was one more point to that was like “adhd boys will typically sit “with one foot on their chair in class”. and I was like. “hmmm. why does that remind me so vividly of my year 7 geo teacher/year 9 commerce teacher frequently labelling me as a “health hazard” bc I’d sit cross legged on my chairs during class????”

I also had a flashback while reading that particular article, to how, in primary school, my teachers regularly encouraged the kids who were assigned to sit beside me on table groups or whatever in class; to put a ruler between us to mark out our separate sides of the desk; so that whoever sat next to me had their own desk space and I had mine.... all bc my side was frequently unorganised/messy. that’s because when I physically handwrote things, I’d tire quickly and so slouch in my seat a bit and put my head on my other arm to write (this is my condition hypotonia/developmental coordination disorder).... so I took up a load of desk space doing that. while the other person’s side of the desk was usually neat and ordered and they obvs didn’t have my posture etc when physically handwriting something. like I’d try to have my side neat & ordered like everyone else, but it always ended up in a state of disarray somehow. like HOO BOY IT’S ALL ADDING UP.

but also yeah. I’m not self-diagnosing bc that’s such common thing on this site. but. like. yeah I need to get to a psychologist or a psychiatrist and see. because so many things are adding up and maybe I do have some overlapping traits from adhd???? bc as ive said before, my condition hypotonia/developmental coordination disorder, has some links with adhd apparently, from what I’ve read recently on it. and it’s really starting to interfere with my life bc I can’t use a diary properly etc and don’t know how to hold myself accountable with deadlines other than doing everything to the last minute until I burn out, monumentally.

anyway.

don’t reblog this please. lmao. it’s just a musing.

#life #about me #shut up ilona

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01010010-posts · 5 years

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— our love is a starred staircase; i jump two steps at time but you can only go one by one.

i. → becoming human. “and this is hen.” “mhh, very interesting.” “.... i hate you.” he unwillingly cracks up, slightly turning to the other side because, honestly, he’s not that bastard (maybe) “sorry–” he bites his lips, not wanting to be exposed, gosh, he really is such a bastard “it’s just that– well, how do i put it.... learning a new language from scratch, without any download, it actually is difficult.” there is it again, that devilish sneer “i swear to god, love” “okay, okay. i’ll say it. but please don’t be mad. it’s your handwriting. it’s hard to read. it’s so ugly you could be a doctor.” he’s doing his best, he vows, but since being deviant his sense of humour has highly been affected. you lose no time in emerging onto his jolly demeanor and begin smacking him “you’re not being fair! ouch– please! you promised to not get angry!” he refuges his hair behind his knuckles, while still enjoying taunting you “i’ve spent the past hour memorizing things with you and that’s how you repay me! and i didn’t promise that!” he lets you tease him for too little, and without even realizing it you’re in his grasp, frozen, sweetly pouting, a mouth that he kisses “you’re right, here’s your reward, teacher.” “did you at least learn something?” “ohh, yes, a wonderful lot. i learnt how to kiss you here, here, and here.” and saying that he follows his preaching, teaching you where he adores to leave lovebites. ii. → pieces of you between the pages. it’s not his fault. sometimes night shifts happen. but he hates them abysmally. why? because, as much as he gets bored when you’re sleeping, he can’t help but worship those endless hours he has available, basking in the lone presence of your body, recording each minute thing, with such limited time on this earth, then, he.... but tonight is a little different. he phoned you for a while (you had to force him to hang up), assured that you finished eating at a normal pace, didn’t steal too many snacks from the cupboard, watched something nice and got to bed at a reasonable hour. yes. he’s not your mom but he likes to remind you that his way of loving is varied. of course, soft words and i love yous and invisible smooching were not absent at the roll-call. he’s not only your mom after all. ahh, almost forgot. this is just routine. the deviant thing tonight is: a book. your book. your favourite book. you probably forgot it in his bag. but it’s not very important right now. he picks it up, the spine slightly visible from the black fabric incorporating it. it’s an ordinary book. he sits, and since he’s kinda alone, nobody prevents him from propping his long legs on his desk, relaxing in his leather ergonomic chair. reading a bit won’t hurt. the content, the plot, it’s not really important. what he’s actually reading is: your underlined parts. you normally don’t do that, you said one time. it ruins the paper, you said. yet in this one, this one, so important to you, you used graphite pencil to emphasize. mostly, about love. iii. → doing nothing. “i won’t stand for this!” he huffs in a bit of what appears to be the middle of an angry and annoyed tone. his arms hurriedly coming into a fold around his chest, he doesn’t really know how to react. you try to hide your benevolent smirk, an android this cute shouldn’t exist “why? you’re already doing it.” “that’s– that’s because it was your turn to choose what we should be doing this evening.” “so you’re peacefully protesting?” you urge him, now holding back snorting is almost impossible “.... kinda.” and at this point you’re nearly choking on your own laugh “you’re making fun of me?!” he finishes his retort and darts, indignant, sitting upright on the couch. so so so sorry but you have to cover your face with your digits and turn towards the other side because, honestly, you’re not that bastard as to burst into laughter in front of him (maybe) “gosh– it’s– it’s– pfft– i apologize i’m– ahahAHAHA NO PLEASE NO!” while you were, indeed, mocking him you lowered your guard and him, a weapon, took that as his advantage “PLEASE BABY” “ohh, we’re begging before i even get serious? my my, you’re quite weak.” his fingers carefully threading between your ribs, stroking your skin in a delicate manoeuvring until he’s satisfied with his revenge “you’re terrible.” he grins, both short of breath from being such imbeciles “i am.” he gently lowers down your crouched shape, half on the sofa the rest on the floor, and kisses your reluctant cheek “what’s the plan, then?” “don’t think i’ve changed my mind. i don’t want to do anything. i want to continue until i reach absolute zero.” iv. → your things // your place. he doesn’t need to shower, nor to bathe, and if he indulges in those activities it’s just to bond, he assures you. but suddenly it’s not so credible when you, wanting to surprise him, come back to your place without telling, sneakily unlock the threshold and tiptoe to search for him to no avail. you’re about to open your mouth and shout, to see some sort of shocked reaction, maybe a jump from the scare, but he’s not in the living room. and not in the compact kitchen. and not in the bedroom either. then, where could he be? you silently ponder, a tap of your shoe asking if he left to go shopping. but you know, the fridge is not that empty. could he be....? without letting out a sound you enter the bathroom, certainly not expecting the sight that presents to you. a single curtain separating you from his shadow. of course, you can’t resist the call. with a swift movement you pull the nylon and expose him, who can’t help but nervously shriek in distress “ah! what the fuck!” you cackle “surprise!” he sighs, exasperated by your childish behaviour, and turns off the water “is that my.... body wash?” your attention shifts rapidly, taking in the image of his fully naked anatomy but pointing an index at his palms “what–” he halts mid-sentence, his cyan eyes darting to his fingers “oh, well, huh–” “you’re using my body wash.” “i can explain.” “you always say you’re too upgraded for bubbles.” “.... my phrasing is not exactly that however i was just– curious.” “to try my body wash.” “yes. to try your pink velvet sunflower body wash.” “wait. how do you know the exact name. suspicious.” if his forehead wasn’t already shimmering from the droplets of your interruption he would be drenched in cold sweat “.... i analyzed it.” “you fucking ate shower gel.” “in my defense–” v. → what do you do when you’re happy. he longs for moments like these. for when you both come home, him entangling his arms around your waist as soon as the door closes, leaving a trail of tiny pecks from your shoulder to your lobe, slow as a snail, savouring each millimeter of skin, each little relaxed spasm your muscles have, each complaint you attempt to address to his figure, each tender giggle escapes your mouth. he longs for moments like these. the same as when your shared friends send a text at the last minute, asking if it’s okay to come over and then maybe go somewhere, drinking or eating doesn’t really matter, it’s just to be together. and you sweetly smile, a bit tired after work, but still willing to say ‘yes’, serene in the comfort of not even having the need to change into fancy clothes, only bustling with secret excitement, waiting to be in stitches in the back of a non-automatic car. he longs for moments like these. as that time you both got a couple days off and decided to spend them in a countryside house, clutched by vines of different species: virginia creeper, common ivy and climbing magenta roses. and as soon as the door closed you rushed, gliding on the worn burnt sienna cotto tiles, up the old rusty stone stairs, reached the top and opened the small cabin, only occupied by a toilet and a small painting (‘in bed’ by federico zandomeneghi. a girl with long auburn hair, facing a floral wallpaper, resting in a tranquil atmosphere while stretched out in her bed under light blue covers.). you promptly proceeded to push the wood window frame, letting light invade the whole space. he was right beside you as your head stuck out, inhaling the fresh air and remaining speechless in front of the sun, the sky, the clouds, the as much red roofs interspersed with yellow lichens and green moss, the rest of the panorama composed by infinite sweeps of earthy fields. he longs for moments like these. vi. → our things // our place. “don’t forget to brush your teeth.” he whispers from behind you, his face reflected on the mirror in which you’re admiring yourself in search of some imperfections. you absentmindedly chuckle “i know” your eyes fixated low, watching the drain of the pale china sink. logically, the most convenient way of getting the toothpaste to exit the tube, is to squeeze from the end and let it come out on its own. of course, he noticed, you don’t do that. you, as if reading his mind while he’s standing close, watching and mimicking a human nightly routine, do the complete opposite of what he’s thinking, pressing your thumb at the very start of the mixed aluminium-and-plastic bottle you’re holding. a tiny bubble forms where the cap should be and you hint a smile. infos bothering his vision at the corner of his irises: it’s some internet articles about teeth blackening, mostly persistent in asia. it’s somewhat fascinating to him, or at least, it’s different from the constant obsession with lightening. he wonders what you would think about it. he wonders if you even know about it. white gel slowly fills your tongue and coats the ends of your lips. you’re kinda messy, he admits, but finds it utterly adorable nevertheless. vii. → dying human. your hand. your hand is what kept him alive for so long. because, despite his appearance, he’s as old as an adult can be at this time of your life. your life. two parallels tracks that never meet, going their way, wanting to touch but never able to. you, growing old. him, growing and nothing more. because he can’t be old, can’t he. he will never be old. he must be about.... no, that’s stupid. no hypothesis could change anything. it doesn’t matter which numbers he should have in his ID – not that androids have any in the first place –, what matters is the inequity of your age “you’re always beautiful” you murmur “mh? look who’s talking” the end of your mouth curls up in a childish smile, wrinkles adorning all of your features “flatterer. i could be one of your grandparents for all you know” he gives you a lazy expression, lids half closed, nevertheless content, a bittersweet happiness. he takes your right hand in his and draws it near his cheek “it’s rough, c’mon” you’re a bit ashamed but he lets the warm rays of sunshine glimmer onto him, eyes slowly leaving space to complete relaxation “no, it’s tender, don’t worry, just as you.”

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leviathiane · 5 years

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SHOW US YOUR WROR RAW UNPROCESSED WHOLE GRAIN ORGANIC NOTES

this is going to be a long-ass post i am so sorry to Everyone! i take a lot of notes.

So, as You specifically know (as well as all of my lovely Soggers) I take a LOT of notes. Obsessively. I write fucking everything bc i have very little memory and very much paranoia. This results in literal Piles of notes. Raw planning, on paper, on my phone– doodles of scenes im brainstorming, bulletpoints, entire SCRIPTS– it’s all there but scattered (I’ve got scenes planned in the margins of my goddamn anthropology notes and deciphering it was a NIGHTMARE)

I won’t even upload all the photos of my writing notebook, because itd be like 50 pages of illegible nonesense. but heres a couple of planning phase pages. (may be hard to read, I dropped this notebook both into some tidepools, into a creek on campus, and accidentally leaked my waterbottle onto it in my backpack :/)

if you can’t tell already, yes they all look exactly like this. Some are even more illegible, because I wrote them with the notebook half under my actual class notes. Because i wrote most of them in class. During lectures. And pretending very badly that i was not doing exactly that. (pay attention in class please i got away with this bc i was filling up elective units)

I’m also flat out MISSING a large portion of my notes bc some of it? isnt even in the damn notebook. its on a sheet of binder paper, or on the empty back of an assignment. I’ve now lost most of those notes, but the ones i do still have are just as (even more, actually) indecipherable chicken scratch:

Wow, how clean and tidy and easy to follow! i am in hell.

and this doesnt mention the PAGES and PAGES of outlines that are on my laptop, and the pages of outlined scenes that are on the notes app of my phone. if i put them all, you would have entire chapter spoilers up to the very end of the story so i cant post a lot of them– and also theres just a goddamn lot of them. currently i have 16 pages of outlining. There are no spacing breaks. It is a solid 16 page block of text. Looking at it gives me a migraine.

some assorted notes which i have dredged up from the deleted parts of the main draft google doc go all the way back to when i started Wror in June and they are Barely more readable than my handwriting on sheer account of: articulation is not my strength. These include:

“Ch 8 plan: sabo gets trained specially, awakens his armament haki, beats ace in a bunch of spars and proves himself to be anything but vulnerable. The boys are like “we fucking recognize that technique ryu taught you before us!!” and goad ryu into finally starting them both on basic haki training, just to awaken it, since sabo already has. Also this is the chapter that ace finally confronts ryu for his devil fruit after ryu confirms that some devil fruit users can’t be hurt without haki and ace immediately catches onto that and tries to slam his pipe through ryus head. It doesn’t work, ryu catches the weapon with a haki covered hand, to avoid turning to flame with hit and ace just gets frustrated and accuses ryu of hiding his devil fruit, because he remembers what he saw in grey terminal and that now that he has seen haki he can distinguish it from what he saw and he’s sure no one could do what ryu did. He calls ryu a hypocrite for coddling them even after telling them to stop coddling sabo and ryu has to sit them down and explain that yes he does have powers and he has been hdiing it and explains his reasoning. However instead of understanding th eboys just get fired up and say they don’t wnt to be scared of fire, especially not when it means ryu isn’t taking them seriously in a spar. Ryu finally agrees to start them on desensitization training for fire trauma. Fire desensitization training happens on the beach, so that they have water nearby in case things get out of hand. At some point ace gives ryu a considering look and is just like “if you have a devil fruit that means you can’t swim either right?” and ryu is basically just like “lmao yeah” and then ace immediately attempts to drown him. Lots of murder attempts in ace’s department toget his older brother to be less of an idiot with little success lol(extra: ace tried to attack ryu earlier both to confirm that ryu has a devil fruit that would force him to use haki to hide it, and because he now knows that he CAN’T hurt ryu without haki and as thus can’t beat him and make him admit he’s awake without being good at haki.)” [chapter 8]

“Small sabo lost his hat and goggles in the incident and while he doesn’t remember having them future sabo notices he looks uncomfortable and keeps touching his hair and head. Ace yells at him for it thinking he bandaging are bothering him and that he can’t touch them but little sabo just comments that something about it feels wrong. Luffy blurts our that he had a hat, like luffy does, But he doesn’t now ace begrudgingly mentions that they can’t get a new one in town. Future sabo doesn’t even hesitate and just plops his own hat onto his younger selves head. It clearly too big for him, and almost falls over his eyes but he grins up at future sabo and is like “wow!! Thank you! I’ll take care of it till I have one of my own” and creates a paradox like Luffys own hat. The footsteps younger sabo has yet to fill. This HAS to happen AFTER the talk where they explain that future and past sabo are both the same person, to give little sabo that pressure.” [chapter 9]

“(Right after this older sabo takes them down to the ocean so that they can play a little and desensitize themselves and immediately fucks himself over when he goes weak in the water bc he somehow fucking forgot his own devil fruit again and now even younger sabo is on his case about not letting him near the fucking ocean that little goddamn HYPOCRITE—) )” [for chapter 9]

“Ch 9 plan: they finally leave dawn island. Starts with the boys getting a haircut after training and luffy mentions how long it’s been since they’ve last needed a haircut, giving sabo and ace time to point out that it’s been 2 months now since ryu joined them, and that sabo was completely healed by now. The boys are now aware of the basics of haki, and while luffy hasnt awakened either yet ace and sabo both have a little bit of weak armament haki. (sabo won’t awaken observational haki until he gets his memories back) ryu tries to sneak off into the city to steal a boat but his brothers refuse to leave him behind and keep sneaking out after him, not wanting him to go alone and saying that since he’s been training them they’re clearly stronger and he needs to let them do this. Ryu eventually just lets it go because why the fuck not it’s a dream and they make him feel better. They get the boat out on open ocean and finally fucking sail out, cheering loudly, ryu struggling to make them all calm down but also not really trying. He’s happy as shit, and they’re all so excited and happy and sabo dips a hand into the waves and then smiles so fucking wide and tackles ryu so violently they both nearly tip into the water and it’s just very very good. “ [also for ch 9]

** I flat out dont Have any outlining from before chapter 6, because i only started actually outling chapters after that. i tend to just sit down and Write up until i hit a plot point or writers block and then am forced to actually think it through and plan rather than letting it come naturally. thats also why the quality and editing is better in later chapters despite everything being written within the same time frame.

besides entire chapter outlines, there are the scene specific phone notes like:

“(ADDED) Right after they leave dawn, when sabo is sure they’ve gotten enough of a head start, he calls Garp. He doesn’t say who he is, but that all of the boys are safe and happy with him and has them all talk into the phone to assure him that they’re fine. Garp is honestly just pissed off he doesn’t know who’s calling and when he asks sabo just laughs and says a disobedient brat before hanging up. “

“(ADDED) TO EXPAND ON CH 3: sabo gets offered the chance to go with dragon, and he hesitates on the offer to go through with his previous life with the family he’s made in the revolutionary again. He almost agrees, because the bought of losing them in this lifetime is near excruciating but reminds himself swiftly that it’s no place for his brothers and not what they’d really want, and he wants selfishly to be with them as long as he Can until he “inevitably” wakes up. The boys are visibly relieved by this, especially ace. (Sabo gets asked who he is by dragon, who wants to know more about the stranger with his son, but dragon has always been quicker to make connections no one guessed and he just smiled knowingly at sabo and tells him he’s sure the other will have no trouble finding them if he’s in need. Sabo in turn warns him to keep Kuma close, and to look for a slave girl named koala.)”

I have…. many of these. I have Many of Everything.

finally, i have scene doodles. if i hit a bad writers block it usually helps me to sketch scenes or the character designs to regain my grip on what the hell is happening in the plot– Breach of Intention has character design sketches, pakcbond has MANY scene sketches, even some of my nsfw has some sketches. my wror skecthes arent Good of course, I am an art teacher for children and that means i am more often explaining the color wheel and brush techniques over drawing perfect human replicas– and i just dont really make a lot of fanart? ive never drawn sabo before but i sure have a bunch now. i wont include close ups because they genuinely suck but heres an example pic

So… yeah thats about everything. this is a VERY long post and yet i only included like maybe ¼ or 1/5 of all the notes i have dbskhjgfkjadns lmk if anyone wants more (or notes for my Other stories, which contain NO WHERE the same absurd amount of shit that wror does.)

#depths' ask #response #idk what to even tag this honestly?? this post is such a mess abhdsjfgdkjn #thanks mido love u dear 💕🎉 im gonna want some damn notes on second chances heads up #wror #wror stockpile #touchmycoat #i started this response at goddamn 3:52am and its now 4:40am #it took me. almost an HOUR #oh my god

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deniigi · 6 years

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Hello! Just about to sit down and read your newest fic, so excited about it! I had a question for you (you very well may have answered this already, so sorry in advance!), but do you have advice for writing? Advice in terms of getting start, plotting out stories, helping get the creative juices flowing? I have all these ideas but seem to lack the drive to get things written out. I know the best advice is to just write, but I'm having a horrible time starting. What do you do in those moments?

Hello my dear!

Sorry for taking so long to get back to you. The lord has blessed me with a head cold and ruined all my plans of productivity for the day, so I can finally answer this ask! I’ll talk a little bit about both how to get started with a story and then some little things that help me motivate myself.

I have started a tag for writing advice here: http://deniigi.tumblr.com/tagged/writing-advice

This is going to be a long post, sorry mobile users.

I am going to preface all of this with the understanding that I am technically a professional writer in terms of like, a handful of ways, but I have absolutely zero training in creative writing, so take everything I say with a grain of salt!

So, I personally find that, on the whole, that psychological hurdle of getting started comes a lot from the anticipation of the kind of response a story will get (how many hits, how many comments, how many kudos) in addition to a bit of anxiety or fear over theloss of sustained interest in that story (by yourself and/or by your audience). I find that this can be alleviated by really, truly internalizing the understanding that you are allowed to write your work however you damn please, for whoever you damn please.

There will be work you write for others, and there will be work you write for yourself. Not all work needs to be published; sometimes, it is really nice to just write shit for yourself; it is a plus for humanity if you decide to share it with others, but you do not have to do that.

Furthermore, I would like to present you with this:

This is what my current folder for under fire looks like. And you might notice that there are almost always multiple drafts per chapter. Yes, I did in fact rewrite chapter four 5 fucking times, you bet your ass I did. And I’m not ashamed of it. I think the story is better for it. And that’s the important thing here: you do not need to produce a perfect draft the first time around. You will not produce that perfect draft. Accept this. Embrace this. Embrace it and your cat at the same time to really ingrain it as a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Liberate yourself from the pressure of needing to produce the perfect, most right draft and you may find starting the piece overall to be a much easier, more pleasant experience.

And along with this beautiful, uplifting spiritual advice, I also bring a practical thought: when it comes to getting started, a lot of times, people feel like they need to set the stage, yadda yadda yadda. Ha. No. Fuck that.

That’s a surefire way to bore the shit out of yourself. Start right in the middle of a scene that captivates you if that’s what you want to write. It’s a free platform. No one’s gonna arrest you if you stick Spiderman upside down in trash first thing. They might even applaud you actually, because you didn’t make them slog through some of that ‘It was the evening of the 25th and it was cold out in the streets” bullshit we all learned from Dickens.

Alright. Now let’s talk about actually getting started making words appear on paper.

So, from my knowledge there are generally two ways that folks write creatively. You have what I’m going to call the planners and then you what I’m going to call the monsters (I call them this entirely affectionately, I’m sure there’s a better word for these folks, but I don’t have it atm, all I have is a headcold). Planners are folks who sit down and work out their major plot points, who write outlines, and who create the scaffolding of their work before they set out on their magical journey. I think of these folks as architects.

And then you have the monsters and these are those fuckers who just sit down and write stream of consciously like the heathens all our high school teachers tried to teach us not to be.

I am both a planner and a monster. And a lot of that depends on the length of work I’m going for. I have never in my life planned a one-shot, for example. I just attack that as it is. I follow my heart, if you will. But when it comes to longer chaptered fics, I really do think that some outlining is super helpful.

You might find it useful for one-shots, though, I dunno. Maybe give it a try and see what happens?

The two main fics I’ve done proper outlines for are Inimitable and under fire and I actually find outlining to be immensely helpful in psyching me up to write the story (I go through and re-read my outlines when I start to lose interest or diverge too much from the plot outlined there in the actual writing. 9 times out of 10, re-reading gets me stupid excited to write all over again) and it also helps me keep momentum going throughout the plot.

Here’s a pic of some pages of under fire’s outline.

Physically writing the work is really important for me because it forces me to only put down key points/feelings/ideas I want to include, whereas typing gives me far too much room to get lost/distracted by extraneous detail. And since my handwriting is a teacher’s worst nightmare and I cross out shit and write huge with emotion, I’ll give you a little bit of what the middle page here says:

Miles-

there’s something thrumming

vibrating in his ears wherever he goes

-closes his eyes and somehow enters blackness- emptyness (Stranger Things style)

beat

“help.”

–BACK - everything is gone

closing his eyes doesn’t bring the space back

–it makes him panic. He doesn’t know why. His heart is pounding. He’s sweating He has a horrible feeling of doom.

beat

its gone.

he goes home anxiously. Pretends everything is normal.

his neck crawls

So basically it’s less of a formal outline and more of a collection of stream of consciousness feelings and screenplay directions which I’ll flesh out in the actual story.

Personally, I love writing these kinds of things because they get me pumped for the story I’m about to tell. I get to write out the key scenes and work through all the hard parts first, and then, while I’m writing, I work through the little fun details and banter and I have to write to figure out how we get from one scene to the next and I love the challenge of having to fit those pieces together. I very rarely stick strictly to my outline, (as anyone who is currently reading under fire can tell you right now), but I do try to stick to the main plot points in it and my writing is certainly better for it.

So yes. Outlining is very good, but it is even better when you do it to some kind of music. I listened to What’s Up Danger from the Into the Spiderverse soundtrack on repeat while I wrote this outline to kind of transfer some of the relentless pace conveyed in that song to the piece’s plot.

I highly recommend using music to set the mood of your piece while/before you write a piece of any length. It helps get you in the right headspace (excited or somber or angry) to write. You need emotion to write creatively. You can’t just make that happen sometimes; you need a little help.

A couple other things which might help:

1. Leave your house or the space you’re normally in. Go to a cafe and find a nice corner and have a think and a try in there. Sometimes moving to a different space helps you escape cyclical thinking patterns.

2. Write what you want to read. Don’t bother writing for other peoples’ interests; that’ll just bore the shit out of you all over again.

3. Find an atmospheric mood sound to listen to on Youtube or smth (I personally like Rain on a Car Windshield for slightly somber fics, but you might be into ocean storms or dripping caves or whatever).

4. Heat your feet. I don’t know why but I am entirely unproductive when my feet are cold. Maybe this one is me-specific, but whatevs. Heat the feets!

5. If you’re still having trouble just sitting down and pounding the story out, that’s okay! Maybe it’s not ready to be written yet. Maybe you’re not in the right headspace yet. Sometimes that’s just how it is. One story makes its way out in like, a hour, and the next one takes like, months to finally be written. We all work at different paces. We all write for different reasons.

It might help to figure out why you want to write a story before you write it. Like, if its for attention, it’s gonna be hard as hell. But if there’s an idea that you feel like is important or if there’s a mood you’re trying to work yourself into or out of, then that might be a little easier. For example, I wrote a piece called make it work which is about Fogs finding his motivation to be a lawyer and fight for justice when Kavanaugh was confirmed and I felt super helpless in the face of our present justice system. That story kind of wrote itself and it needed to be written, I feel, not just for me, but for others who were feeling just as helpless.

Writing is catharsis in that way. Maybe you just need to find out what you need to wring out of your soul.

Sorry that got very metaphysical. But I do want to stress that getting started and ending a story are the hardest parts of writing them, so you are definitely not alone if you feel like you’re ramming your head into a wall here.

I hope something here helps you, my dear!

#fic #writing advice #fanfiction #managingmischiefsince1988

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rainedrop777 · 7 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO DEAREST GLADDY DADDY!! You are the greatest Shield ever - and we are so blessed to have you and your abs. HERE’S A DRABBLE IN YOUR HONOR! *bows*

There were three distinct birthdays that Gladiolus remembered vividly in his mind - and on days like today - it tended to bring them to light.

The first that came to mind was his 15th birthday.

All had been well for that day.

His father and little sister had gifted him with presents earlier that morning, and a nice breakfast had been prepared. Little more was necessary to do for the day, so Gladio had resumed his scheduled duties as normal.

He wasn’t big on announcing these kinds of things, so typically only close friends and family even knew about the special occasion.

He was fine with that.

But when he had gotten to the citadel to train with Noct that day - he had been surprised when he as informed by the guard that the prince was sick. It wasn’t unusual for that to happen - but the most confusing part was when they reported to him that Noct had requested to see him in his chambers immediately. Mildly confused and alarmed, Gladio had done as he was told and made his way to the room.

His initial thoughts were that Noct wanted to apologize for missing another session, as they had very recently just begun to understand one another and probably didn’t want to damage it by skipping out, but that was not the case when Gladio entered the room.

The young boy was sitting up in his bed, medicines and tissues around him. He looked impressively tired and flushed, but his eyes lit up when he saw Gladio enter the room.

“Jeez, you look like hell, kid.” Gladio had said with a laugh, approaching the bedside. “This is what you get for not eatin’ your veggies.” He quirked an eyebrow at him, smirking as he did so.

Noct sniffled and glared at him, but the sneeze that followed broke his expression. “No way. This is your fault.” He grumbled, reaching for the tissue box.

Gladio blinked at him. “Huh? How’s this my fault?” He said abashedly, folding his arms together.

“Cause you didn’t tell me it was your birthday today - so I couldn’t think of anything else to get you.” Noct pouted, his cheeks puffing in frustration.

Gladio furrowed his brows. How had he found out in the first place -

Iris.

Obviously.

“Er - uh. Sorry? So you got sick ‘cause I didn’t tell you?” Gladio asked, eyeing him a bit confusedly.

“No - just - ugh, - here.” Noct said, reaching beside him.

Gladio reflexively caught the thing that was thrown at him, and his eyes grew wide as he looked down at it.

His hat.

His favorite hat.

He’d found it.

He’d lost it a few days prior when the wind had whipped it off of his head while he was taking a walk. He’d remembered complaining about it, but he didn’t think Noct had been so perceptive as to pick up on it - or remember.

“I went to go find it - but it rained on me - then I fell into a pond when I tried to get it.” Noct admitted - a mixture of embarrassment and frustration staining his cheeks.

Gladio took a moment to gape at him - but his expression morphed completely when he threw his head back in laughter at the pouty face, the sound loud and genuine.

This kid…

He wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling slightly. He took in a deep breath and shook his head, regarding Noct with a bright smile. “This was really thoughtful a’ you Noct.” He said after a moment, watching as the big blue eyes flashed up to him.

He had really been thinking about him.

Gladio let out a breath through his nose, then casually leaned forward and ruffled the prince’s dark hair. He kept it on his head until Noct turned to look at him, his flushed face the picture of adorable.

Gladio smiled.

“Thanks.”

Yeah, he’d never forget that one.

On his 15th birthday, he was given the gift of honesty.

The next distinct birthday was his 21st.

There were few things that Gladio hated more than people intruding or imposing on his personal life. He kept most of his personal feelings and emotions out of the mix, so when they were realized by people that he did not want seeing, it bothered him.

But...this day had been odd in the sense that it was one of the few times he appreciated it. Especially in the manner in which it had been presented.

It had been a ridiculously busy day and Gladio was flustered.

Training with the guard had been more brutal than usual that day, and he kept finding himself running back and forth between his responsibilities to Noct, the archives, and the training grounds. He had a lot to do before he was sworn in in a few weeks -

And it was driving him mad.

So he wasn’t exactly in a good mood when he returned home, he was just about ready to flop into bed and sleep away his bad temper. He’d debated visiting his home that day at all - but he knew what it meant to Iris that he was there on his birthday.

He had been stopped mid way up to his room, however, when Iris had called to him.

“Gladdy! Prompto dropped something off for you! I put it on your bed!” The little girl had called.

Gladio paused for a moment, but called back shortly afterwards: “Thanks, Iris!” and continued up to his room.

He knew it was likely a gift, but he was surprised by gesture - he had gone out of his way to come all the way to his place simply to drop it off? And Gladio hadn’t even been there?

It was unnecessarily kind.

When he had gotten up to his room, he found a small wrapped package laying neatly on his bed, on top was a note that was characteristically scribbled in Prompto’s handwriting.

Gladio had tentatively picked it up and opened it.

Hey big guy!

Happy birthday! I know it’s kinda weird for me to be dropping stuff off at your place but i really wanted to get this to you. Ive been working on it FOREVER. I think youre gonna like the last one hehe.

Happy birthday!

P.s - don’t show Ignis please

Gladio narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the last words

What the hell did this have to do with Ignis?

He set the note aside and reached for the package, undoing the wrapping paper.

For a moment, he simply stared at the cover of the gift.

It was a photo album - and the first picture in the center was the crest of the Shield with his name in the center.

It was very aesthetically pleasing with the swirls mixed nicely in with the font of his name. The rest was bound in soft leather, and he ran his hand over the material in slight awe of it.

Wow.

He opened the first page of the album, and was immediately pleased by what he saw. Pictures of the citadel cast in a myriad of brilliant sunset colors covered the first two pages, and he briefly remembered the tiny conversation he’d had with Prompto about how he liked how it looked -

The boy was way more perceptive than he’d given him credit for.

The next few pages were similar - though some had pictures of himself and his companions in various poses. Funny, epic, nonchalant, etc. The last images were particularly interesting, however. They each held a picture of his individual friends.

Noct was standing amongst the gardens of the castle, epically posing as wind whipped around his hair.

Prompto’s picture consisted of him giving a big thumbs up to a Cup Noodle stand in the citadel.

Iris had her own little picture - the girl smiling brightly while holding a vase of roses while a blue flower crown donned her brunette head.

Gladio had absolutely no idea how he had managed to take a picture of Cor smiling - though Prompto had likely used his advantage of being his adopted son to convince him to do so.

Clarus had opted to pose with Iris again, his eyes shining in genuine happiness as he and Iris stood next to each other.

This was...so thoughtful. He loved each and every one of the pictures so far. It was obvious how much thought Prompto had put behind each one - the boy had been questioning him lately in what he liked in pictures - but he hadn’t realized that he was doing that to put this together for him.

Prompto had been asking about it for so long he didn’t even give thought that it was perhaps for his birthday.

There were even a few pictures of his various friends in the crownsguard amongst them - it was so thoughtful.

They were all of his favorite kinds of pictures, but it was when he reached the last page that his heart jumped slightly.

He barely registered the tiny piece of paper that slipped out, as his eyes were completely fixated on the image.

It was of Ignis.

It was a close up of his sleeping face, sound and peaceful in a cushion of pillows and blankets. The filtered light cast him in a soft glow. His hair was uncharacteristically unruly, and it stuck up in various ends and partially covered his face in light brunet strands.

Gods was it cute.

This was...everything he wanted in a picture of him. Seeing his walls down and defenseless...it was incredibly endearing.

It rang off a few alarm bells, however - as it was quite obviously different from the other individual pictures of his friends…

Gods...Prompto didn’t...know, right?

He snapped himself out of it when he realized that the slip of paper had fallen at his feet, and he bent down to pick it up, opening it with twitchy fingers.

Got this one when we all went to that overnight carnival thing. I’m not a creeper, but I couldn’t resist. thought youd like it hehe

Seriously please dont tell ignis

Gladio stared dumbly at the note - attempting to decipher any meaning behind it.

They hadn’t told anyone - at least as far as Gladio knew…

He shook his head.

Maybe this was just a little joke between them. Gladio reassured himself with the notion that he tended to like to ruffle their heads and mess up their hair - maybe Prompto was just picking up on the fact that he found bedhead particularly funny...

He gulped as he stared at the picture.

It certainly wasn’t a...funny picture though…

Gods.

Regardless, Gladio felt a smile come to his face for the first time that day, and he shook his head once, regarding the last picture on more time before he shut the album.

The gift had completely turned around his bad mood.

On his 21st birthday, he was given the gift of kindness.

It was the memory of his 19th that brought a soft smile to his lips.

It was this day that he could legitimately say he’d forgotten that it was his birthday. He hadn’t been home lately, his studies in college were keeping him away - even though he tended to forget his birthdays initially, it was Iris and Clarus that usually reminded him.

He was away, however, and finishing up his first year in college. Busy wasn’t even an accurate testament to his schedule. Running from his classes to the citadel back to his classes was work of itself, and that wasn’t even counting the things he had to do when he got back to his apartment - and it was downpouring - with no signs of it stopping - which had increased traffic.

Gods.

Gladio threw back his head as he flipped close the textbook he was currently studying, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders as he finally completed his last task. He sat back in his chair staring blankly up at the ceiling in his small apartment.

Man…

He placed a hand on his stomach when he heard it growl, and he pressed his lips together as he looked at the pantry with only a few Cup Noodles left.

He sighed.

He’d not eaten today yet - he was going to end up devouring two of his precious Cup Noodles again.

Oh, well.

Ding dong

Furrowing his brow, the warrior pushed back his chair and stood to his feet, sauntering over to the door.

Who’d be here this late at night?

Especially in this rainy weather?

He stepped up to the door, unlocked the handle, and pulled it open.

His heart jumped in a mixture of delight and confusion.

At first, all he could do was stare straight into the green eyes tinged with annoyance. His jaw was set as he stared back just as intensely, and his expression relayed to Gladio that he was not exactly pleased at the given moment..

Uh, oh.

“Gladio.” Ignis greeted staley.

Oh, shit. He was in trouble.

“Hey, Iggy.” Gladio finally responded, his eyes doing a once over before he locked with his again. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Could he have sounded any more stupid? He at least could have said something like: It’s good to see you, or I missed you, or lemme get your things.

Because gods had he missed that face lately.

That clearly resounded with him as Ignis’s eyes narrowed a bit further. “Do you not answer your calls or texts anymore?” The younger man said impatiently, “I’ve been trying to contact you all day.”

Oh - SHIT.

He hadn’t even glanced at his phone that day. Not even so much as a look - in fact - he was pretty sure he’d left it on his bed this morning and hadn’t even noticed.

But - Ignis wouldn’t go so far as to drive all the way to his place if he wasn’t answering his calls...

“Uh - no, I - I forgot my phone today…” He answered dumbly, scratching the back of his neck. It was only when Ignis shifted the bags in his hands that Gladio realized that he was making an even bigger fool out of himself. “Uh - shit, come in. Sorry.” He apologized, stepping out of the way as Ignis gingerly walked in.

He shut the door behind him and clasped his hands together, watching as Ignis set down his wet umbrella amongst other things and turned to address him.

“You could have perhaps told me you’d be busy enough today that you couldn’t respond.” The strategist said - a tint of bitterness on his tongue as he neatly set aside his things. “I had no idea how to get a hold of you.”

Gladio furrowed his brows.

This was weird.

Ignis was typically very understanding of his busy days. This had happened before when he wasn’t able to contact him until later that night and explain himself - and Ignis had been caring and kind-worded as always.

He always understood if Gladio was kept away from their conversations.

Had he messed that up somehow?

“I’m sorry, Iggy - I really didn’t think that it’d be a big deal.” The warrior said sheepishly, suddenly intimidated by Ignis’s piercing eyes.

“You didn’t think it would be a - “big deal”?” Ignis repeated incredulously. “That’s terribly inconsiderate of you, Gladiolus.” He finished with a frown.

What in the gods names -?

Wow. He’d really ticked him off.

“I’m sorry, Iggy - I don’t know why you’re so upset. I’ve done this before an -”

“-Indeed. But I had hoped you have a small bit more wherewithal on the matter considering it is your birthday.” Ignis interjected, his hands coming up on his hips as he continued to glare solidly at him.

Gladio felt his body freeze.

Oh...oh….OOOOHHHHhhhhhh…

Wow.

He’d completely forgotten.

And it quite obviously showed on his face, as Ignis’s brow furrowed just a second before he brought up a hand to brace his forehead. “Ah...I see. You’d forgotten, then.” He said calmly, rubbing at his face.

Yup. Totally and completely.

“Yup.” Gladio admitted openly, harshly pressing his lips together as his guilt swelled in his chest.

Damnit. Ignis had probably been calling and texting him all day - along with the others. He didn’t even want to know the whooping he was going to get from Iris - as he’d completely ignored her. Prompto would pout - and Noct would go take a nap. And Iggy - well...yeah…

Gladio shut his eyes as he let out a deep sigh. “Shit...I’m...really sorry, Iggy. That was - wow. I feel really bad.” He admitted, using a thumb and forefinger to rub at his eyes.

Shit.

Ignis regarded him for a moment before he sighed and turned away. “Though, I suppose this makes more sense now.”

There he went again. All understanding.

But...Ignis had driven all the way up here...for him? Was he agonizing over it all day? Probably. Had he been trying to plan the day with him in mind? Probably. Was Gladio a complete and utter idiot? Definitely.

“Ah...can I get you somethin’? Somethin’ t’drink or eat or whatever?” The warrior spoke up after a long pause, deciding that he may as well try to make amends now.

Ignis’s eyes cast up to him, an uneasy light beneath them as he shifted his feet. “Actually...I was hoping I could do that for you.”

Ignis’s eyes fell to the bags on the table, and that was when Gladio noticed exactly what they were filled with.

Oh, gods. Likely all of his favorite things.

Gladio’s face melted into a soft smile, and he nodded once. “That’d be great, Iggy.” He said sincerely, and he took a few steps towards him, watching as Ignis’s eyes met with his. “- I’ve been dying for some a’ your cooking.” He used a hand to gently tilt up his face, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. “Kitchen’s all yours.” Gladio’s heart fluttered slightly as Ignis’s hardened eyes softened considerably and a gentle smile pulled at his lips.

“Very well.” The strategist conceded with small nod.

The two of them made work to prepare the ingredients, and just as Gladio had thought, it was all of his favorite things - well - besides Cup Noodles that was. Meat skewers, potatoes - and he had even managed to sneak his favorite wine.

Leave it to Ignis.

They’d indulged in small conversation and easy laughs. Gladio’s heart felt lighter and his mood shift each second he stood in the presence of his cherished one. Though it had only been days, it felt as though weeks had passed since they’d spent any quality time together - and he knew that that had played a significant role in his fraying patience.

The meal had been fantastic, as it always was - especially since it had been made with such care and thought in mind. After they finished, they’d quickly retired to the small couch in his living room, each with a glass of wine and many stories to share about their recent ventures in school, work, and their personal lives.

The mood changed, however, when they both fell into a comfortable silence, listening to the soft music Gladio had set in the background while the gentle rain poured outside.

He was about to speak, but stopped when Ignis chose to first.

“I...suppose I should give this to you now, as I see no better time.” Ignis had said slowly, hesitantly reaching into his back pocket.

Gladio watched in curiosity as he pulled out a small, wrapped brown package, tied neatly with a dark rope, and held it in his hands for a moment.

“Excuse the terrible wrapping...I was hardly given time…” It was evident he was trying to avoid sounding embarrassed, and it made Gladio’s lips rise in a tiny smile.

Gladio laughed lightly at the remark, reaching forward to take the offered gift. He exchanged a single glance with him before he turned his attention to the small wrapping - and he carefully undid the neatly tied twine and let the loose wrapping come apart as he pulled a the edges.

His eyes widened.

It was...a necklace…

And not just any necklace.

“I’m not sure if you’ll recognize it, but it’s in replication of the Lucis’s fifth King’s Shield: G -”

“Gladiolus.” Gladio finished immediately - knowing exactly what it was the moment he laid eyes on it. “It’s…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence as he reached for the jewelry, picking up the long string of beads linked together with silver shards dotting in a patternized order. At the end hung two crossed silver bars, and he ran his thumb over the material, marveling at the weight.

“I wouldn’t give this to you unless I truly believe that you may uphold the namesake you’ve been given.” Ignis said after a brief pause. “Gladiolus was a fearsome and loyal warrior to his king - righteous as he was courageous. He was the embodiment of strength and protection - though that did not define him. His character was awe inspiring, and all who knew him offered him their sincerest trust.” Gladio was transfixed on Ignis’s smooth motion as he reached for the necklace, gently taking it from his hands. “And that it was I see in you.” Ignis’s arms reached above him as he easily looped the long chain around Gladio’s neck, but Gladio could barely look away from the honest eyes that followed his movements. A small pause filled the space between them as Ignis finished smoothing out the necklace, his hand lingering on his chest.. His eyes flashed to his as he reached up to caress his face with both hands. “I see strength not defined by muscle; but character.”

The rush of movement that followed the words was amplified when Gladio dove forward, his lips trapping Ignis’s in a movement so fast he had barely registered it. Ignis must have been expecting it, though - as he allowed himself to fall back, wrapping both arms around Gladio’s neck as he passionately returned the gesture.

Gladio found himself attempting to pull back, realizing soon that he was quickly unraveling - if they continued at this pace -

But Ignis had locked his arms tighter around his neck, and the rest of his resolve was lost against his mouth. He kissed him gently - somewhat cautiously to test the waters, but it wasn’t what Ignis wanted. Not in this moment - not after so much time time spent apart. Gladio felt him knot a fist into his shirt, pulling him harder against him. A soft groan emitted from deep in Gladio’s throat, and he wrapped his arms tighter around Ignis’s body, gathering him against his chest - any self control lost to the warmth of their entangled bodies.

It was a gift that he could hardly comprehend - it was beyond anything he deserved.

It wasn’t just a physical gift - it was something that meant far beyond that.

It was a gift of Ignis’s trust.

And though he may not have felt himself worthy of such a sacred thing, he continued to hold him against his warming body - relishing in everything he exposed to him in that moment.

It was a gift that had no price - and he would wear it proudly for the rest of his life.

On his 19th birthday, he was given the gift of trust.

Perhaps there was no accurate way to judge what meant more to him - but it was the moments that lead to this that allowed him to see how they had manifested.

Even as he lay against the couch, eyes heavy with exhaustion, he smiled at the two figures sprawled on the small hotel room floor, practically toppled on each other as they sought warmth from the chilly ground.

Innocent in every sense of the word - kind in Prompto’s gesture to offer him the couch that night, and honest enough for Noct to offer only small protest before they had passed out on the ground.

The warmth he felt against his shoulder from Ignis’s head laying against it was proof enough to Gladio that, even vulnerable, Ignis trusted him wholeheartedly enough to let his barriers down enough to sleep soundly next to him.

No. He couldn’t decide what meant more to him - but combined - the gifts were something that had truly made this day into one of his fondest memories.

On his 24th birthday; he was given the gift of unconditional friendship.

#gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #birthday #drabble #happy birthday #happy birthday gladio #shield #best shield #only shield for me

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hoesidon · 8 years

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Klance Fic Recs:

A mutual of mine @ichaotic-neutrali wanted some fic recs so here’s some of my favorites. If anyone has any recommendations please feel free to add on!

The Ultimate Wingman: by luna_fox Summary: Lance and Hunk have moved in to the new student apartments at Garrison University called The V at Garrison. Living on their floor, they meet and befriend their neighbors: Pidge, a child prodigy in robotics. Matt, Allura, and Shiro, life time friends with the boys watching over their siblings. And Keith, the anti-social boy who hates change. As time progresses, they all become friends and Lance finally finds someone to help him explore his bisexuality - his gay neighbor Keith. They strike a deal = Lance helps Keith find a social life while Keith becomes Lance's wingman, but what happens when both men realize that their deal has become more complicated than they expected. Words: 60,290 Chapters: 11/?

The Ties That Bind by: Smiles4Voltron, Weirdpersonhere Summary: Lance fell hard at Garrison, unable to stop himself from adoring his rival. However, when Kerberos went missing Keith changed. Through time, Lance got over his broken heart, swearing to never allow himself to get hurt like that again. So how come he is falling for the same tricks a year later when he is reunited with Keith and the two of them get chosen to save the Universe through Voltron! Words: 71,750 Chapters: 12/?

Blueprints by: UnderTheSilentStars Summary: "While soulmarks themselves were common, it was rare for someone to have anything other than the name of their other half...and Lance had a red paw print." Soulmark Au Words: 39,204 Chapters: 23/?

So Anyway, Here's Wonderwall by: fairietailed, themuffintitan Summary: Lance can't seem to look anywhere but Keith as he performs. He doesn’t bother trying to hear the music over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. -- In which Keith is a bassist and Lance is weak. Words: 59,166 Chapters: 15/?

Ignorance Is Bliss by: YouAreInAComaWakeUp (Nikanaiko) Summary: As it turns out, learning that your house is haunted makes the ghosts a lot more aggressive. Who knew? Ah, well. At least one of them is hot. And he's the less-evil one, too, so that's always a plus. Words: 6,443 Chapters: 1/?

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things by: Acequisitor Summary: Wine Aunt: Oh shit Hunkin' Donuts: Great googly moogly Space Dad™: Well that's enough for today Nigel Cornberry: I leave for 20 minutes and this is what I come back to? Nigel Cornberry: Can you kids relax for just one minute? Words: 18, 002 Chapters: 7/?

Lonely Will Wait by: ciuucalata Summary: “I should get rid of these fucking stars,” he mumbles getting out of bed. Like usually he opens his window blinds, letting in the warm summer wind and the light that steals the stars’ glow. He put them up twelve- maybe thirteen years ago, when he first started to have the dreams(memories?) and when they still reminded him of a time when he was a hero together with a group of strangers that felt like family. They make falling asleep easier at night, just like they did back then, but the panic and the helplessness that he feels every morning are no longer worth it. (or the one with the reincarnation where Lance is the only one who remembers but doesn't let it get in the way of him finally having a normal life with his old family) Words: 5,582 Chapters: 1/?

True Love or Something (series) by: DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee Words: 84,347 Works: 20 Complete: No

The Volton Chat Fic No One Asked For by: fleep Summary: dont hunk with my heart: did u really photoshop ur face over a man in a chicken costume running from the police keith is fine: thats pidge hunk pidge is the police dont hunk with my heart: howd u make that so fast lancemememachine: ive had this saved up for an occasion like this Nobody asked for this Words: 15,039 Chapters: 13/?

legendary meme defenders by: Kitsune300 Summary: getting bi: gbfyhed guys Im dead getting bi: you might as well plan my funeral space dad: hello dead, I’m dad getting bi: SHRIO STFU smol and ready to brawl: lance that is no way to speak to your father Words: 34,441 Chapters: 25/?

Power-kick by: Johnny_kun Summary: “I am so sorry, you just fell so hard for me and I feel bad about it now.” Lance had to admit that his pick-up lines were getting better.

“Did you kick the ball?! Purposely at me?” The black haired man asked, voice laced with annoyance as he got up, ignoring Lance’s offered hand for help.

“It was an accident, really. I was showing my children how to do a power-kick.” Lance’s flirty smile didn’t change the unimpressed expression on the stranger’s face.

“You should show them how to apologize now.” Words: 42,994 Chapters: 16/?

Spaghettification and Other Extreme Sports by: SociopathicAngel Summary: During their final battle with Zarkon and the Galra Empire, Zarkon creates a black hole capable of destroying the universe. Lance sacrifices himself and Blue in order to stop it... and ends up in an alternate universe where everything is just a bit not right Words: 17,978 Chapters: 4/4

The Quiet by: MilkTeaMiku Summary: Does he not realise he's dead?

Keith can see ghosts. As a part of his Garrison training, he's sent to a hospital to do one year of medical clerkship - it's there that he meets a charmingly irritating ghost who definitely needs to learn what boundaries are. Words: 34,500 Chapters: 17/?

Foreign Scenes by: bwyn Summary: Lance has been dreaming of travelling since the first time he heard stories from his family as a child. Now, having finally the time and money to do it, he goes on a trip to Europe to see some of the most culturally rich cities on the continent. Except he keeps bumping into the same guy over and over again, in random cities, doing stupid shit, and ultimately dragging Lance into his trouble, too.

Basically an AU in which Lance and Keith become impromptu travel buddies and get into trouble. Words: 51,334 Chapters: 7/12

If Fireflies Cast Shadows by: Sasaina_Ai Summary: You'd think finding your soulmate would be difficult, since there's only one of them and over seven trillion people in the world. Thankfully, God decided to take pity on his creations, and gave each person the very first words their soulmate would say to them. It was always in their personalized handwriting and the color that best describe them, decorating the wrist of your dominant hand. And, if you touch it after you meet them, you can send them your emotions, even thoughts if your connection is strong enough.

And that's all fine and dandy - except it isn't.

Because Lance McClain, the fun-loving guy with groan-inducing puns and pick-up lines that never work, who's six-foot one with a good attitude and a hundred friends, has the words "Don't fucking touch me, asshole" scribbled in messy red letters on his left wrist. Words: 50,378 Chapters: 3/?

Botched Ink by: Syremia Summary: "Your soulmate is that who shares the same symbol on their skin as yours." Was all Lance had been teached since a young age. He was the only one in his large group of friends to not have a symbol of his own. Just as he thought he was gonna live alone until he met Keith in a bar. The problem was that Keith already had a symbol of his own. (Warning: Various mentions of heavy drinking ahead) Words: 14,977 Chapters: 4/?

Kiss My Ice by: delictor Summary: Lance hasn't skated in a year since the accident that cost him the Olympics. Keith can't skate for shit but that doesn't stop him from catching Lance's attention, even when he can't so much as stand up after falling on the ice. 'When a person really desires something, all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his dream.'“Soon as we're off this ice you're dead.” Keith's threat is an empty one and he knows Lance can tell by the way he laughs at it. “Serious question though, do you not know who I am?” Lance questions. “Should I?” “No, I guess not.” Lance shrugs. “I'm gonna twirl you, okay?” “No, no don't—wait!” Keith cries out as he's suddenly viewing the entire arena and his legs go rigid before colliding into Lance's chest, his chest rising and falling with laughter, hands gripping Keith's upper arms gently. “Put me back on land.” “Technically, we are on land.” “We're on frozen water, get me off it.” Words: 40,250 Chapters: 6/10

Entangled by: mackerelmademedoit Summary: When Keith found himself mentally linked to Lance of all people, he never thought that it would end in anything but irritation and misery on both sides. He certainly never imagined that it would be a useful asset in team Voltron's fight against the Galra Empire. Now if he can just keep his feelings in check, they might actually have a chance at defeating Zarkon.Needless to say, when he'd wished for a 'bonding moment' with Lance, this wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind.(Eventual romance and mature content for later chapters). Words: 80,975 Chapters: 11/12

Crossroads by: manamune Summary: When Keith crashed his Lion into a Galra warship in order to stop it from destroying a solar system, and more importantly, his friends, he was fully prepared to die for it.What he didn’t prepare for was to wake up in an alternate universe where he and Lance were dating. Words: 106,833 Chapters: 25/25

Of booty shorts and Injuries by: Queerswimming Summary: Keith is sure that he’s having a heart attack. Or that he hurt his brain when he fell earlier. Because it’s simply not possible that the boy who’s sitting next to him is not a hallucination. How could someone so gorgeous just sit in an emergency room at night?"Keith and Lance unexpectantly meet at the emergency room in the middle of the night. Words: 19,220 Chapters: 3/?

Loving Him Was Red by: Resamille Summary: Loving him was red, just like the suit Lance now wears in Keith’s absence. Words: 4,135 Chapters: 1/1

Stowaway by: glubsauce Summary: When Lance finds a handsome stranger hiding in the backseat of his Jeep on the way to Pidge's birthday party, he can't help but wonder what his story is. Luckily for him, after he drops him off at his destination, he quickly gets revisited.

Lance is a bi college student who lets Keith, a dfab genderfluid 21 year-old, stay at his apartment after Keith runs away from home. Words: 27,109 Chapters: 9/?

you never stood a chance by: kagshina Summary: lance to hunk ♡ >i’m gonna fukin die hunk oh mygod i sent >keith a work out selfie that i wan supposed to fcukin send to you and you know what it said >”BET YOU WANNA LICK THESE NIPS” >HUNK I WILL NEVE BE ABLE TO FCE HIM AGAIN I WANT TO DI E(Or, Keith is beautiful, Lance has a crush, and there's lots of shirtless selfies) Words: 12,221 Chapters: 1/1

little numbers by: ashtxns Summary: brolance: keith is officially CANCELLED Words: 22,202 Chapters: 23/?

Better than coffee by peralta Summary: When Lance tries to curb his coffee addiction by replacing it with boba, he can’t help but linger around a perpetually grumpy-looking employee who works at the nearby teahouse. Keith, despite all the Yelp reviews, turns out to be surprisingly kind. Lance starts coming every day—although he insists it’s only for the boba.

And to complain about the customer service, of course. Words: 14,805 Chapters: 3/?

nothing's quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts, thebrotherswinchester Summary: Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street. Words: 50,370 Chapters: 1/1

Infection by: Talinor Summary: "Citizens are advised to stay inside at all costs until the infection is under control," Nyma's voice was slightly stronger when she spoke up again. "And if you come across a possibly infected individual, do not- I repeat, do not- come into contact with them. This infection is reported to be highly contagious. If you see someone you believe is infected, stay away and report them immediately. Officers will come to take them to the nearest vacant hospital as soon as they can. Please try to remain calm, and lock your doors." Words: 20,615 Chapters: 5/?

Six Feet Over by: freshia Summary: "And, right, of course. He hadn't told Pidge—or Hunk, actually, who was sitting on the other side of the table from him—because somehow “I see dead people” just doesn't quite have the same effect that it surely had before 1999. Go figure."

Lance Sanchez sees ghosts. Lance Sanchez also tries his best to avoid ghosts, until he literally can't, because his new apartment is inhabited by one very confused ghost named Keith. Words: 47,313 Chapters: 13/?

Sweet Tooth by: Huletty Summary: Lance took a breath and walked forward through the swinging door. He kept his mind focused on one task. Get those damn pastries. Don’t look at anything but the pastries, don’t touch anything but the pastries, don’t speak to anything but the pastries. Don’t even glance at the kid with the mullet, who was currently putting frosting on a new batch of cookies, pink tongue slightly sticking out of his mouth in concentration. 'What I would do to have that tongue on my- The pastries!' Lance jerked his vision away and back to the cart full of stacked trays.

Otherwise known as the Bakery/Cafe/Pastry Shop AU this fandom needs but probably not the one it deserves. Words: 11,175 Chapters: 5/?

Team Voltron: a group chat by: Castielwinchestar Summary: This is absolute trash with a kinda-sorta plot it's so much fun and I'm basically writing my interpretation of the entire Voltron Team on crack so please read this I promise you won't be disappointed <3 Words: 21,602 Chapters: 20/?

Skinny band nerd takes it up the ass from the beefcake football captain (series) by: Lynn1998 Words: 42,730 Works: 6 Complete: No

To the Universe and Back with You by: manamune Summary: Lance and Keith were friends with benefits slash tentative boyfriends when the Galra empire fell. And just when their real relationship was starting to begin, Keith took off without a word, leaving Lance with a broken heart and a whole lot of resentment.

Fast forward seven years later and Lance is the only paladin living on Earth, with his cat Peaches for company. It’s not perfect, but he’s happy.

That is, until Shiro summons them to form Voltron again and Lance has to face his greatest fear: the past. Words:10,100 Chapters: 1/3

Nightmares by: Trashness Summary: Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this.

Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps. Words: 14,864 Chapters: 1/1

#fic recs #Voltron #klance

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