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meetmeatthecoda · 3 years

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I absolutely ♥️ADORE♥️ Scripted and would love to read your director’s commentary for it!

Oh, anon!! 😍 I'm SO THRILLED that you loved Scripted so much, that makes me so happy!! 🥰 Especially that you loved it enough to want to read my "director's commentary" (that phrase makes me laugh, you'd think I created a feature length film all by myself 🤣), so I think I'll skim through the fic - it's been a while since I re-read it - & make a bullet-point list of any special BTS info I can think of 😊 Anddd I'll also put it under a read more cause you know me, I never use one word when one hundred will do 😂

So, the fic itself was inspired by the ending of 5.08 where Liz wakes from her coma to Red reading to her in an armchair as he had been for the past 10 months, it's fine, I'm fine but she still has a ventilator in so she can't talk & instead has to write "how long?" on a piece of paper & her handwriting is super shake-y bc her muscles are so weak (I think Red even helps her hold the pen? It's clearly been a while since I re-watched the ep whoops but ugh, be still my heart.) For some reason, I just latched onto the idea of a mute Liz, really suffering with the implications of everything she went through (since her recovery was so glossed over in the show boo) & Red 1000% being there for her. Mostly, I just wanted to dive into the dynamic of Liz letting Red care for her the way he's always wanted to (without Tom & Agnes btw) to the point where their relationship is unhealthy in its reliance, but neither can see it bc Liz is blocking things out (& unknowingly falling in love with him) & Red is just so thrilled to be able to love & care for her (while already deeply in love with her obvi). So yeah, that was the kind of dynamic & closeness I wanted to explore between them & it was... really fun 😊

The idea of the coma providing the perspective Liz needed to see that Red has always had her best interests at heart & clearly loves her (in addition to the fact that he never left her side or gave up during those 10 months lol peak romance tbh) seemed very organic & logical to me.

I liked the idea of Red & Liz playing board games as a way to pass the time & get to know each other better. It's the kind of casual interaction we were never gifted with in the show & I think they're both competitive in the right circumstances, even if its playfully so.

I liked the idea of Liz being urged to learn ASL, as I'm deaf in one ear & would dearly love to learn it at some point.

The detail of Red sleeping on a cot close enough to Liz's hospital bed that they can hold hands in their sleep was a total guilty pleasure addition & I'm not sorry.

I loved the scene in the beginning where Red is talking to Dembe on the phone in the hallway & Liz is practicing her letters. She's purely doing it so Red doesn't worry & I loved the idea of her being apathetic to everything except Red's concerns, plus I added in the parenthetical of (Red sometimes squints at her k's.) bc I thought it represented that well, but also bc it was just cute af. I also added the little detail of him waving at her through the window at the last minute bc I thought the scene needed something else & once I pictured that, it was too adorable to leave out.

Red handling all the details of Liz's care & transportation without asking (bc he instinctively knew that's what Liz wanted) only to turn around & panic about excluding her seemed like a very RED thing to do & I like how it emphasizes his well-meaning intentions, respect for her preferences, & desire to see her happy, even if she did actually want to leave him lol as if.

I liked the visual of Liz stumbling into Red's arms as she stands from her hospital bed to leave with him (sets a precedent for later) & I also loved the visual of a pen in her ponytail & of course Red using it to flirt a little bc come on.

I remember struggling to write the car ride transition to the lake house. I usually get ideas & visions for specific scenes, moments, or bits of dialogue, so those kind of transition moments are hard for me sometimes. But I liked that I settled on Red helping to ground Liz through touch (again, sets a precedent for later).

Red & Liz playing hangman in the car with Red using the word "fedora" & drawing a suited hangman made me giggle.

I can see the lake house very clearly in my mind, complete with the willow tree, bench, & tiny house (included bc I desperately want a tiny house in real life) & I really enjoyed describing the interior & imagining the joy Red would get out of decorating it with Liz in mind.

Their first night in the house where Liz has her nightmare & Red comforts her - that was a scene I had in mind very early on & I love how it turned out, especially with Liz mouthing "stay with me" into Red's neck, that part gave me All The Feels™.

The "morning after" scene where Liz realizes on some level that she's too dependent on Red is an important moment in the fic & the off-hand detail that at least "she's not going around murdering people & calling it therapy" was a bit of shade to Ruin (which I don't think I ever saw bc I was kind of appalled with the idea lol) I think I posted Scripted after Ruin aired... if not, I guess I'm psychic?? LOL

The breakfast scene - & the fact that Red is preparing every breakfast food known to man bc he's nervous too - is near & dear to my heart. I think that's a pretty pivotal scene since they kind of reach an unspoken agreement & peace &... "things settle after that first breakfast."

I liked the teeny little parenthetical section that comes next as well, which acts as a sort of middle point for the fic.

The next large chunk of the fic was pure indulgence for me. I LOVED writing about all the different things they would do together when it was just the two of them, it was basically a collection of Lizzington headcanons & that's how I sketched them out LOL Here's some notes on them:

I came up with the jigsaw puzzle headcanon (that Liz is bored by them bc they're easy for her bc she's a trained psychologist & easily sees patterns in things) late in the editing process but loved it so much that I included it.

Liz's sandwich preference is actually mine LOL

The Monopoly banter was fun af to write bc I love that game.

The love notes Liz leaves around the house for Red is still an all-time favorite headcanon of mine.

I loved the idea of Red reading to Liz in a foreign language, holding the book only for looks, but not actually reading from it at all & instead professing his love for her. I think I've even used that headcanon in another fic LOL

Their movie nights were also something I was dying to include, especially since they include snacks & cuddles.

Their co-sleeping habits were also something I wanted to include & Liz's newly tactile nature is both a symptom of her dependence on Red & also a guilty pleasure thing for me bc we all wanted more of Red & Liz touching on screen, plus I felt obligated to explain through Red that it wasn't sexual in nature (though if I ever get around to writing part 2, that will change 😉)

Dembe being the one to observe & interfere in their situation was an early scene I imagined as well, that was always going to be the climax of the fic (or at least part 1). I so enjoyed writing about Red & Liz's relationship through his eyes bc he just loves them both & only wants to help them.

Another pivotal scene I imagined early on was Liz having a panic attack with Dembe when she discovers Red has left & that was super engaging to write, as well as the reunion between them which... I pretty much wrote the whole fic with the goal of getting to that lovely angst LOL

Red's resolve to finally urge Liz to speak was heart-breaking to write (so naturally I loved it lol what's wrong with me) & in particular the detail of them eating fruit for lunch before he broaches the topic with her & the parenthetical about it being "a sign from the cosmos that they are meant to be together just because they don't eat each other's favorite fruit" made my heart happy even tho it's stupid LOL & when Red asks her if she would ever try to speak again & she responds with a simple written "Why?" that was a huge moment that I loved the angst of, of course. As well as the absolutely gutting: "Lizzie, I miss your voice."

I liked that Liz needs some time to think & accept everything Red forces her to realize at the end, that was super important to me in the resolution of the fic/part 1 & I tried really hard to include both their mentalities there at the end.

The fact that Red hasn't had a drink since he started caring for Liz also made my shipping heart happy.

And - lastly - the fact that the only thing Liz actually says in the whole fic is Red's name? Yeah 🥲🥲🥲

Welp, there you go, anon, I'm not sure if that was interesting to you at all, but I certainly hope so!! I know that was a lot but... it's a long fic, my longest ever, so I figure it's warranted, right?? 😂 Anyway, thank you so much, both for the compliment of loving Scripted AND for wanting to read more about it, anon, you are so sweet!! 🥰 I hope you enjoyed this & much, much love to you, my friend!! ❤️

Fanfic Writers: Director's Cut

#The Blacklist #Lizzington #fanfic #Scripted #ask game #fanfic writers: director's cut #mine #ask #anon #thank you so much for this my friend!!#:D #i hope you enjoyed this #:)#much much love to you!!#<3

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belovedstill · 3 years

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hi!! i have a question... i saw your reblog about freewriting and i wanted to try it myself cause i have a hard time with writing because of my anxiety but i'm not sure i understood 100%. what do you actually write while you freewrite? is it related to what you're working on at the moment, like do you freewrite a scene (kind of like sprinting in a way) or just random words/thoughts in your head?

hi <3 i understand you 100% because sometimes (most of the time) when i sit down with the intention to write, my brain subconsciously goes "okay, the pressure's ON, everything i write must be useful for the fic" (and then i go "wait, @ brain, what fic? i don't even know what fic i would write, i just want to write" and brain says "it must be useful for the fic" (which btw doesn't help, thanks @ brain but no thanks))

i will start by honestly saying that while I've been doing this for many years, I've never had a word for it. If my memory's right, then I've never heard the term "freewriting" before. I'd either call it stream of consciousness or messaging a friend or word vomit or scribbling

(i'm going to share some photos & screenshots as examples because i personally appreciate examples for things i don't know how to even start doing; i'll include content warnings above the photos wherever applicable. These things were not meant to be seen by other people, obviously, so not all of them are neat, not all of them are in English or spelled correctly, and not all of them make sense, some might not even be Socially Acceptable (i'm very anxious as well, you see, so I ask people to be kind if you do take a look at the examples and decipher what's written), but that's the whole point of these: you let your mind go without worrying about where it's going)

I'm sure every person who does freewriting does it differently but here are several ways i do it (under the cut because it got very long as i pretty much (ayyyy) freewrote it):

test a pen/pencil! you know when you get a new pen and write down the most random thing on a piece of paper to see what the ink looks like and how it feels to write using that pen? for me it's usually a single word or a phrase from a song (my go-tos are hello, wait, Beloved (my MC's name, shhh) and other fictional characters' names or Why you gotta be so mean? from Taylor Swift's song "Mean", don't ask me why because i have no answer)

writing down the lyrics to a song that's currently stuck in your mind and living there rent-free, and if you forget the next line or if something else pops into your head - let it take you over

write on random pieces of paper! the less it reminds you of a notebook/blank page, the better! sometimes that means what's left of printer paper or post-it notes. actually, most of the photos of paper pages in this post are from my poor quality notebooks - the paper is too thin or not smooth or the pages are yellowish, so i don't feel bad """wasting""" the notebook for doodles, random scribbles, etc.

a diary entry? a diary entry, except there doesn't have to be depth to it, no journaling type of reflection on your feelings, on your experiences, on the Daily Journaling Prompt necessary--unless you want to. in my case it's mostly complaining about the pen i decided to use or the quality of the paper but!!! because i let myself write anything and everything on one page, at one point it feels natural to write some random story sentences on the other page

CW: implied past physical abuse

brainstorming! here's where, for me, the "messaging a friend" name came from. i have a very vague idea for what i want to write or a very small detail i want to write about, but nothing else. i set up a timer and write everything down (the screenshot is taken from my very own personal discord server, it's just me and a writing bot. at one point i realised that whenever i was brainstorming or writing cheer up ficlets in my friends' discord DMs, writing went super easy because my brain didn't register it as writing, but as chatting. At first, I formatted a new google doc so it looked exactly like discord's dark theme, but ultimately decided that just creating a new server just for my writing process/practice/etc and stuff is easier)

CW: harmful & discouraging stuff asexual people face

"I don't know what to write, I don't even think I want to write an actual story, it's not going to stop me" kind of writing. Anything goes and I mean anything. The sentences aren't connected. There's no actual idea or story behind the sentences. You're just writing a word after a word after a word. Sometimes a question appears in your mind, so you write it down. The question leads to more questions, or maybe an answer, or maybe you realise you like the feel/sound of one word so you write it again and again. After you wrote the word three times, tiny ideas form in your mind, things you relate to that word. Then you lose track of the thought so you write "I lost track", then a piece of dialogue floats in your mind that's probably inspired or part of a song lyric you wrote earlier

CW: unconventional/controversial lovers

if your writing anxiety is caused by fandom wank regarding some topics, tropes, themes, or even genres, know that if you freestyle about the thing you're worried somebody would judge you for, nobody else will read it. you can delete the doc afterwards. you can password protect it. you can tear the page out of your notebook and shred it to pieces. i won't include a photo example of this one (anxious, remember? also, it's nsfw) but i did this with smut-specific words and phrases. i got a blank piece of paper and wrote--first, just words (nouns for genitalia, verbs for action, etc. let me tell you - i was alone in the room and even trying to write the first word was difficult, in my head i kept thinking back to people's conversations on how "problematic these words are" etc etc etc and that fed my anxiety even further because "oh god what if they knew i was about to write this, what would they think of me"), then the words combined into phrases, then common smexy phrases that characters in smut say, and so on and so on. no punctuation because it's not a story. you know what happened after i put that first word on the page? nothing. i felt silly, sure, but i repeated the word several more times and still no People From the Internet barged into my room to ridicule & judge me. during that session, freestyling for that genre got easier and easier with every word.

Two posts that helped me realise that warming up for writing (and anything creative) is a good idea:

Writers need warm up sketches too (my way of warm up is usually either freewriting or using a typing speed website)

The anatomy of a pen/pencil etc

...and I think that's all from me 💕 apologies for how long this is but I hope it helps you in some way *hugs*

#shhh B #B replies #Anonymous #...aaa i don't want this to show up in the general tags but i want to find it later #you feel me?#writing #anyway i really hope it helps and if anything's too confusing please let me know and I'll try to explain better alter #*later

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just-like-playing-tag · 4 years

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A totally self indulgent compilation of my favorite works on this blog of the year June 13, 2019 - June 13, 2020

I wanted to do this for the blog's first anniversary but then completely forgot about it lol.

The following lists are all in chronological order according to the date each post was first published.

Top 10 panel edits:

#1: Don and Gilda - Chapter 138: Demon serch (1)

Date: Jun 14th, 2019

Time: ~ 1:30 h

My very first redraw from my very first edit posted here, so it deserves an honorable mention. Back then I was young and inexperienced, I didn't even apply a gray filter (lmao I was so unskilled I even unintentionally scratched the picture, I hadn't realized until today). I'm actually very happy my first redraw was of Don, boy deserves all the love.

#2: Emma and Ray - Chapter 140: I’m Here!

Date: Jun 28th, 2019

Time: ~ 1 h

Back then this looked like so much work to me!!! And to this day, I think it turned out pretty well. I'm particularly proud of how the bow turned out. This is one I was really proud of right after having finished it; it gave me the confidence to try redrawing bigger areas. Also, the edit were I first applied the opacity of layer / opacity of brush for the gray filter that would have stuck with me.

#3: Krone's birthday edit

Date: Jul 15th, 2019

Time: 15 mins

I don't know I just really like how Krone's hair vanish to a more sketch-like style here– and consequently, how I managed to replicate such effect. I think Krone's beautiful.

#4: Emma, Norman and Ray - Chapter 153: Coward

Date: Oct 4th, 2019

Time: 4:07 h (and 67 layers lmao)

Probably the single panel redraw I'm the most proud of. That Norman panel was beautiful and very poignant at the end of a chapter I adored, so I believe it deserved all the time I've spent working on it. It's far from being perfect - the back of his head is too plain, and the difference between my brushes and the original brushes is pretty visible - but I still like it very much and am extremely attached to it. The horn looks kinda big but I honestly believe it to be more of an issue with the original than with what I had redrawn lol. Funny enough, the whole picture didn't make it to the final edit and had to be trimmed.

#5: Full Score Trio - Chapter 154: A Breakthrough

Date: Oct 11th, 2019

Time: 29 mins

I don't have a particular reason for this I just think Emma's hair turned out amazing. It took just half an hour and I didn't even use references like. Wow. @Redrawing skills where did you go please come back

#6: Mujika and Queen Legravalima - Chapter 158: The Reason I Was Born

Date: Nov 17th, 2019

Time: 2:09 h

Sis I love this so freaking much. The shift from redrawing almost exclusively people and clothes to redrawing this mess was so fun and refreshing. Even though it's a mess I think it turned out very clean and overall it looks beautiful? I remember after finishing this I felt so powerful, like now that I had redrawn this thing I would have been able to redraw anything I set my mind on lol.

#7: Emma - Chapter 161: Never Be Alone

Date: Dec 13th, 2019

Time: 57 mins

Again no particular reason except this is a very cute Emma and I think the redraw turned out pretty well. There's this big lock on the left that doesn't make a lot of sense but overall I really like it. Cute Emma is cute, and I love her determination.

#8: Emma - Chapter 166: Going Back Home

Date: Mar 9th, 2020

Time: 3:45 h

I'M SO FREAKING PROUD OF THAT RIFFLE I have not the slightlest idea why this took so damn long BUT I'M SO PROUD OF IT

#9: Norman's birthday edit

Date: Mar 21st, 2020

Time: 1:04 h

This is cool! I didn't know I could manage to draw this, but I did it! The feathers were particularly hard to clean but I think they turned out fine.

#10: Full Score Trio - Chapter 174: A New World (part 1)

Date: Apr 6th, 2020

Time: 2:11 h

I just think they're very pretty? I can't understand if I like Ray's face a lot, or not at all, but I think overall there was a lot to redraw and it turned out pretty cute! Sorry Gillian.

(Also insert pretty much every panel from the chapter 177 Isabella edit– I've spent so many hours on basically every panel there's no way I could choose only one).

Top 5 edits as whole:

#1: Emma and Ray - Chapter 140: I’m Here!

Date: Jun 29th, 2019

Complessive time: 2:57+ h

The very first edit I'm actually proud of; I'm really attached to it. It's the first edit I had put all of my effort into, and I remember feeling anxious people would have left it without notes. It kinda feels weird to think about it now, because I really don't care about notes anymore; yet, it somehow makes me happy to think that past-me wasn't let down. Thank you @neverlandstrio for your support, you may not remember but it really meant a lot to me back then! And it still makes me smile. You're the best!!!!!!

#2: Mujika and Queen Legravalima - Chapter 158: The Reason I Was Born

Date: Nov 20th, 2019

Complessive time: 7:12+ hours

This whole edit was an hella wild ride. It's midnight before a school day, when I think: "Mh, it's been a while since I last made an edit, why not make one about Musica and the queen from the last chapter?" And seven hours after this was born. I'm particularly proud of the queen's redraws on the 3rd, 7th and 9th picture (ofc), the areas which have been redrawn are pretty huge yet I think the difference with the original is almost impossible to notice?? @Redrawing skills where did you go please come back (part 2)

#3: Emma - Chapter 174: A New World (part 1)

Date: Apr 12th, 2020

Complessive time: 6:53+ h

I think the panels that were selected work very well together, especially considering the close-up / full body alternation. I love Emma, and I've always been kinda sad noticing that edits that focus one her take the less notes... She deserves all the love. Also, fun fact: for the last but one panel, I had redrawn Emma's whole left ear before remembering she doesn't have one, so I had to redraw the panel from the start. Besides from the error with the ear, the reason why this (and all the others after) took so long is because official panel take way longer to clean.

#4: Isabella and her children - Chapter 177: Mother

Date: May 22nd, 2020

Complessive time: 13:41+ h (ahah.)

Lmao tbh I can't understand how this has so few notes it's like. Technically speaking, probably the best edit I've ever done. I don't even like Isabella that much, I haven't got the slightlest idea why I decided to spend so many hours on this. Anyway, I find the composition (full body on the left / headshots on the right) really good looking in this as well! And I think the redraws turned out fine, especially Isabella's.

#5: The Promised Neverland manga ending countdown→ 1/7 chapters: chapter 1 - Grace Field House

Date: Jun 9th, 2020

Complessive time: 1:59+ h

I don't know how I came up with that idea for the composition but I find it really beautiful??? I think it does a pretty good job conveying the sudden, terrific shift of atmosphere from the first chapter, and I think that sharp bridge is very nice. I'm very, very proud of this.

Honorable mention #1: Full Score Trio - Chapter 154: A Breakthrough

Date: Oct 13th, 2019

Complessive time: 3:44+ h (+ 1:13 h of working on a panel that ultimately didn't make it to the final edit)

A very good chapter, and the edit turned out surprisingly amazing??? All the redraws look great and make it almost impossible to distinguish them from the original; honestly I feel like I'll never be able to redraw so neatly again lol.

Honorable mention #2: Don and Gilda (+ Norman) - Chapter 160: Shackles

Date: Dec 11th, 2019

Complessive time: 3:14+ h

That one is really one of my favorite scenes; I'm telling you peoples, Gilda and Don are a blessing to the earth. I think I've never mentioned it, but Gilda's hair is a nightmare to redraw??? More specifically, it takes me h o u r s to fill the texture without making it look too weird, it's the worst.

Honorable mention #3: Norman and Ray - Chapter 179: Compensation

Date: Jun 6th, 2020

Complessive time: 4:16+ h

I was so glad to finally be able to make a Norman / Ray edit, and it turned out it was just in time before the series' finale. I like how it turned out and I'm pretty satisfied with the redraws (even though my sister helped me with the lineart of some panels - it was exams time and I really couldn't afford to spend more time on it), too bad we didn't have more chapters that focused on the boys. Ray sweetie one day I'll fix your ear it's just today's not that day.

Btw, I justed realized I have never done an Emma / Norman centered edit? I'll have to make one eventually. I remember considering focusing on them alone for the chapter 154 one, but then I thought "even if the manga is gonna ignore Ray, I will chose to do not" lol.

Top 5 long posts:

#1: Reconstruction of how the Grace Field children were settled in the three bedrooms

Date: Aug 28th, 2019

I just had really a lot of fun doing it. I love putting all the little things to their own place, it's so calming to do and that's why I love making this kind of things. Also, loved how @temporoom contributed to the post! It was so nice of them to add what they had noticed to come up with more exact conclusions, that's one of the things I love the most about the internet.

#2: A study of how many times the characters of The Promised Neverland call each other through the first season of the anime

Date: Sep 10th, 2019

I REALLY LOVE IT! I mean it *was* kinda stressing to note everything, but it was very also very satisfying to see everything methodically divided and organized! And it's not just that– it's also the fact that it looks good. That's one post I have fun rereading because it's actually pretty! Also, even though it can be very stressing to learn to use new programs and sites, it's always very satisfying to look at the final result. Again, I really adore compiling these tiny little details! I would love to make more posts of that kind if i had the time.

#3: The Promised Neverland musicals headcanons

Date: Oct 27th, 2019

I mean it's literally. Putting my two favorite fandoms together how could I not love it. This is another one I really enjoy rereading, I find all the musical / character associations so fitting! I really want to make a second part, I hope to find some time to do it.

#4: Considerations on the reward / eventual series' finales (and Emma's sacrifice)

Date: May 7th, 2020

It's always nice to put down all your thoughts regarding a particular matter. It can take a lot of time (at least for me it does because... I need time to think about things), but it's so satisfying to see all of them there once you're done. Bonus points when, like in this case, it was something asked by someone else because “Wow! Somebody wants to hear my opinion on this subject! I'm flattered (◍•ᴗ•◍)”

#5: Some other considerations on the series' finale and Emma sacrificing herself

Date: Jun 13th, 2020

Pretty much the same as above. It's like some kind of clarity when the post is done and signed. Another fun fact, I had to censore the post a lot; the first version was extremely sharp and harsh, but I believe it's right to express your opinions calmly and politely.

Bonus: A thread of what the tpn characters would wear at the Oscars

Date: Feb 9th, 2020

Imagining all the children in those pretty dresses makes me so incredibly happy (╥﹏╥) I go back to look at that post a lot. I really love red carpets, I love looking at pretty dresses!!!!!

Lmao it's so funny how the post of mine I like the most are also the ones with the less notes

Anyway this was just a personal report! You don't have to read it all (or any of it actually). But it was indeed fun making it! Here's to many more months in the fandom!!!

#This was supposed to be posted on July 13th as one year and one month since I made the blog #but Tumblr decided to be a jerk and deleted all of it 😊#So here we are #tpn #tpn manga spoilers #long post #Again this is just a personal report don't stress over reading all of it #But it was fun to make!#To the people I tagged: sorry for tagging you in this long post but also it would have felt weird not to do so? I hope you don't mind #It felt like... Giving credits foe something you've done y'know

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kittymaverick · 4 years

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Mystery Case Files 21: The Harbinger commentary and review, part 2.

outSpoiler free review first: Holy SHIT GRANDMA studios, talk about knocking the ball out of the park. Not only was that a solid good MCF game to start off with, you’ve now set up the expectation for the next game so high, I’m honestly a little afraid for you. Like... do you know how high the bar is now that you’ve hinted about the content of the next game? Right, coming back to Harbinger for a second. Barring one tiny little slip up which I think was just something that got lost in translation (English is like that), the lore of MCF managed to stay intact, which needs to be applauded. At one point, I almost questioned if there might be almost too many references, especially with that happens to the references in the game itself. (Yes, I, the MCF nerd and fanatic, actually had that thought). I still flip-flop a bit on whether this was a good execution, or a good but shaky execution. For one thing, the way it’s executed... wow, that’s some heavy stuff emotionally. Which is why I’m questioning if that’s “good”, because I suppose there was a line of emotional heaviness I didn’t expect we’ll cross in MCF, but GRANDMA took it there. And so far... part of me is guiltily okay with it, but wow... The studio’s art style does suggest that a detraction from from MCF’s usual Elizabethan English Horror Story with a side of Soul Steampunk and Celtic Druidism would not necessarily be a bad thing. That GRANDMA chose otherwise though, and stuck with a very, very MCF story (albeit more limited to the Celtic legends part), takes guts. What I do wish we’ll get, after the next game, is a story line that’s a GRANDMA original, sort of like Eipex’s the Black Veil, because I think the studio has potential in creating something that’s more them without pulling away too much from MCF. Anyway, that’s the spoiler free review part. Back to my spoiler filled commentary!

Aisling: I know I act suspicious, but I’m just a psychic! MD: I know I’m just a detective, but people keep dying around me, so hey, we’ve got that in common. Aisling: James gave me this cube by the way-- huh? *Emblem of MD appears* ...I’m sorry, that ancient celtic emblem... has a bloody hat. It has a bloody hat. I’m DYING.

Realized I jumped back too far to do this retroactive commentary. Oops.

MD: Okay, well, maybe he isn’t dead yet. We could probably dig him out-- *Nigel turns to bone* MD: ...Never mind. He’s beyond saving. Someone get the coroner!

Six thousand mirrors in the room, and not one shows your face. MD: A technique I have perfected over the two decades of my career. Didn’t save you from getting married to a homicidal madman though. MD: ...I don’t think he picked me because of my looks to begin with.

...Hey MD, I know paper work wasn’t exactly involved and all, but did you actually divorce Charles, or did you just betray him? MD: *DEATH GLARE* You know what, pretend I never asked. MD: You’d better.

MD: Let’s see what skeletons Nigel has in his closet. You know, the last time you found skeletons in a closet, quite literally... MD: Shut up, I was trying not to think about that! (This happened in Key to Ravenhearst. The Skeleton was Charles and Victor.)

Okay, so James was a MCF fanboy, Marge you met on one of your American trips, Nigel was a Fate Carney, John worked on a restored Ravenhearst. I don’t want to say her Majesty might have under exaggerated the number of keywords there were going on here... MD: Oh no, she definitely made it out to be less important than it seemed. She also definitely sent me in because the report she’s going to get out of this is going to be spectacular. The idea that HRM might be the ultimate MCF fan in-universe tickles me with delight. MD: And fills me with utter dread.

Nigel’s shadow puppet theatre: I got fired from the carnival! Boo! MD: Nigel, getting fired from Fate’s Carnival probably saved your ass. Temporarily, until whatever is going on here got you. MD: .................... What? Oh... MD: Yeah. Oh geez I’m looking forward to the case after this now! 8D MD: Why is it that the more I’m tortured, the more gleeful you are?

*Telephone rings* MD: Hello? Marge: HELP ME SOMETHING IS HERE AAAAHHH Well shit. MD: Yeah, she’s done for. Let’s go see the body.

*Gibs collects collectibles before going to body* *I die laughing because that’s my priority too*

MD: Oh no Marge I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you in time... ...Yeah right, says the person who doesn’t want to get their hand on the black stuff. MD: Look, my sorrow doesn’t in anyway override my desire for hygiene, okay? Reminds me of that one time I called some detectives from the last century dandies for refusing to stick their hand into a barrel of rainwater...

MD can I point out how you’re making detailed sketches of MARGE’S BODY in your journal? MD: Look it’s this or pyromania, okay? Don’t judge me. Also, I’m starting to think people that meet you on your cases shouldn’t bother locking their diaries. You always manage to crack them open.

Marge: Oh James is such a darling, I should get him to marry my daughter, then I’ll be such a happy mother-in-law. .............................. MD: ...................... Well, um, I guess Marge was a cougar on the inside, maybe? MD: Yeah, let’s phrase it like that (Restrain desire to make crude NSFW jokes...)

Marge: DAMN THAT GIRL FOR STEALING MY BOY. Marge, seriously, there’s officer Davis. I’m sure he’s just as nice! MD: And not on anyone’s death list. For now. MD: Don’t say that...

Davis: Well, I guess that’s one more evidence against Aisling. HOLD IT! MD: This note here shows clearly that Marge intended to frame Aisling for an attack on her! And the diary entries clearly document how much she hates the suspect. Therefore, the evidence shouldn’t be permissible-- Davis: Yeah, but Marge is dead, and there really isn’t anyone else in town left. *Record scratch* MD: ....It could be... you? Davis: Harhar, look here’s the evidence, go talk to Aisling. MD: Urgh, fine. It’s okay, MD, I was rooting for you there at least!

Aisling: Death, death is all around us! *Flees* MD: Okay, Aisling, that’s really not helping and only making you more suspicious! But since you’re away, I’m going to rifle through your trailer. Um, now who’s suspicious???

Hm, you know, this place would have been great for a holiday spot. MD: I don’t know, given my records with holidays... ...True, you’ll probably end up doing exactly what you are doing now. MD: That said, I think I’ll take a slice of apple pie since no one’s looking. Does the agency pay for your food on your cases? MD: They’d better because I’m giving the recipes to Her Majesty if they don’t...

Aisling: I came here to save John but he’s locked upstairs, please help! MD: Um, if you had let me come with you... maybe some time could have been saved? Aisling: But what if I get killed first then? MD:........ She’s got a point. MD: Dammit, fine...

Hm, so John’s ancestor worked on the original Ravenhearst... We’ll probably need to open up the original game to see if that was the guy that fell from the construction site. (My guess is it’s not, because that carpenter was originally meant to be Rose Summerset’s husband, so it should have been Summerset. Plus Rose’s kids were the twins and Victor.)

Oh damn, a model of Ravenhearst-- MD: Hm, it’s missing a weather vane. ........... MD: Look, just because I burn the place down several times, doesn’t mean I don’t care what it looks like, okay? Can you point out the window that you escaped out of by any chance? 8D MD: *sighs* This one...

Aisling: John, NOOOOOO. MD: Right, gotta cut him down quick! He might still be alive. *Proceed to spend over minutes solving puzzles* MD: I swear, this happened very fast in actuality... Never as fast as the plot demanded though...

*Puts weather vane on model* *Model turns into a raven* MD: ???????????????? Okay, I need to take points off for THAT ridiculous transformation and animation. XD

Aisling: I can’t take this anymore! MD: I know this is hard, Aisling-- Aisling: Here’s the next slab, btw. ....This mood whiplash... I’m dying.

Um, so apparently the banshee wasn’t trying to destroy the world, but was trying to restore herself, which... you disrupted. MD: Look, Allison and her friends needed rescuing okay? I couldn’t just sit idling by. ...If that was disrupted, then how DID Aisling turn human then??? MD: .....Let’s save that mystery for another time because I feel a headache incoming... (Fix edit: It seems to imply that the ritual was only disrupted, not failed, so Aisling did get her skin back, though now she doesn’t remember being a banshee...)

Aisling: I’m a banshee? That’s... That’s impossible. MD: Well, I’ve been through a lot to say most impossible things are actually probable in reality, though if you somehow don’t remember me shoving you back into the cave, um, then I’m grateful. Once you do, please don’t kill me. BTW, your turn on the cube of mystery!

Aisling: Well, if I’m a banshee, I guess I should go back to Dire Grove. We can catch the next ferry. MD: You know that’s a really long trip right? It might take us the better half of a day-- Or a single puzzle’s worth of time. MD: ...Where was THAT kind of fast travel all these years??? I do like how it’s implied that you guys had a huge detour with picking people up and dropping them off though.

Ais: Okay, we’re here in Dire Grove-- AH! MD: Wow, even nature is saying NO to you. Ooooooor it could be a certain immortal druid-- MD: Please don’t. It’s fine! We have a banshee. MD: All she does is predict death! Oh yeah, forgot about that...

*Aisling gets “kidnapped” by green energy* Gibs: That can’t be healthy. MD: That’s honestly pretty normal at this point for us. At least she didn’t get dropped down a tube.

Um, what’s with the Chinese incense in a Druid’s domain? X’D (I’m going to pretend they traded that...)

(I honestly don’t have a lot of stuff to comment on in the section in Dire Grove, because there isn’t much to snark about. Which, I guess, comes to show that 99% of silliness comes from MD dealing with PEOPLE, alive, dead, revived, or otherwise not really a human.)

*Aisling goes back to banshee form* MD: First, no hard feelings about last time, right? Aisling: *stares* MD: Please, thank you, and I’m sorry??? Aisling: You did help me out, so I guess it’s fine. MD: *sigh of relief* BTW, four people technically did DIE though in the process. Aisling: Um, that wasn’t me, if you recall your lore correctly. MD: True enough, but STILL. Just pointing it out. You want her to scream in your ear? She’s still got time for that.

HOW AISLING BECAME A BANSHEE, AGAIN. Aisling: To make a long story short, there was a lot of puzzles Puzzles which you had to personally solve, without MD’s help? Aisling: It really makes you appreciate how hard MD has had it for the last 21 years...

Did... did you just KILL four people to restore your spirit? Aisling: I just helped their soul cross over! I swear! Aisling, you’re being really SUS right now and I’ve practice how to spot a liar lately! Aisling: I only predict deaths! And then find the souls and tell them where to go. I swear that’s my task. EVERYONE VOTE AISLING AISLING IS THE IMPOSTER

Is one of your abilities literally “summon joyride”???? Aisling: it’s a carriage A carriage can be an awesome joyride if you use it irresponsibly Aisling: How does MD tolerate you? They don’t, they’ve just had worse company and I’m a lesser evil. 8D

Aisling (actually Gibs): *suffers through the last giant super puzzle* ...Yeah, REALLY makes you appreciate what MD goes through. Aisling: Is it always this bad??? Sometimes. I’ve seen worse.

Gibs: THAT CARRIAGE IS BADASS. See, I told you it was a joyride. Aisling: You know, I think I’ll float back to the MD. No joyrides. Awwwwwwwwwwww... Okay, now let’s rewind back to when MD started their rant. **************************************************

Aisling: BTW, this energy is still floating about. And I think I know why. Will you accept this energy and use it to save the world? MD: Oh hold ON a minute. You want ME to do WHAT? Aisling: Save the world. You heard what I said. MD: Okay, listen. I started this detective job mostly because I thought it was cool, and it was for the first couple of cases where all I had to deal with was bust the criminal organization STAIN and recover the Hope diamond for the Queen. But then that’s where all my trouble started because she sent me to this creepy manor which turned out to be a prison to not one, not two, but FOUR ghosts. What’s even worse is the first time I went, I thought I only had to rescue Emma. I was wrong, and for the longest time, I thought Fate Carnival folks were dying from my mistake. Turns out later it was completely personal. This was everything that happened before I met YOU. (Again, really sorry about kicking you back into the cave and getting you stuck in the situation you were in in the last who knows how many years...) Afterwards, I went to the Louisiana which got me on the bad side of a certain ghost pirate, who turned out to be the grandfather of the guy killing the carney folks from his mother’s side. Which was why he was killing them by the way. She sold him to Fate’s Carnival. Anyway, after figuring out that I’ve dun goofed, I went back to Ravenhearst manor, which turned out there was a WHOLE OTHER SECTION I didn’t discover last time, which was somehow a very personalized and twisted marriage proposal that I didn’t notice until too late. I burned THAT down for good measure before taking a break in some place near a lake. But then that guy’s FATHER took up issue with what I did, which I didn’t even started, to be honest. He tried to kill me for whatever grudge it was that he had. I had to stab his horocrux with my badge to get him to stop that time. But then it turns out that father ALSO has some offspring here in Dire Grove, and I had to come back to prevent THAT from going down in flames as well. Thankfully, I think they remained sane. I can’t say the same for the twins, who turned out to be the evil guy’s kids. They most definitely went insane, and REMADE Ravenhearst, which I had to burn down for THE THIRD TIME. All that plus the jump I took landed me in an asylum, which turned out to be the one where both the evil bald guy and his dad was imprisoned once upon a time. Of course, the guy’s father tried to kill me, AGAIN. Took care of that, and also removed the shard that was driving me bonkers. It only gets worse from here though. I got chased around by an woman with a clock for her heart who I had to defenestrate out a clock tower. She didn’t stab me, but then the guy who probably ENGINEERED MY ENTIRE LIFE did, because apparently he wanted to use my soul’s virtue to anchor death to the mortal world or something. I got an immortality feather out of that, I guess, so it wasn’t too bad, but I basically DIED. And then afterwards there was that undead guy who was really hung up about his biker jacket. Next was the evil guy’s ancient youngest son nearly destroying the world (4th wall break: THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT) trying to revive him which thankfully DIDN’T HAPPEN BECAUSE OH GODS I WOULD HAVE DIED FOR REAL ON THE SPOT IF IT DID, FEATHER OR NOT. Then a creepy woman in a mirror had to be locked back into the mirror dimension. And that’s when my agency had a fucking SECURITY BREACH which turned out to have been in the making for YEARS. And then the pirate guy came back and nearly enslaved me. I had to blow up his ship and exorcise him from this world. And AFTER all of that, I was finally sent to Blackmoor, where I met YOU, and also saw a bunch of people marginally related to me die from a cause we still don’t have any answers for. *DEEP INHALE*

Aisling: Okay, so your point is.... MD: My POINT is.... out of ALL the sane and wholesome people in the world who don’t have ANY BAGGAGE whatsoever, why do I, the Master Detective, have to be the one to save the world here-- Charles: Hello. MD: *SCREEEEEEECH*

CHARLES IT’S BEEN FOREVER-- wait, you’re not here to serve the divorce papers are you? Charles: Of course not. I’m asking MD to come back home with me. MD: WHAT?! Charles: Where else would I welcome you back to? *Evil cackle* ......... 8D8D8D8D8D8D8D8D Aisling: ........... :| :| :| :| :| :| :| :| :| MD: .................D:< D:< D:< D:< D:< D:< D:< MD: Aisling, hand that energy over, I’ve a WORLD TO BURN.

I have to point this out... the last time we saw Charles IN THE FLESH in game, was Escape from Ravenhearst, which was NINE YEARS AGO, likely TEN by the time Crossfade comes out. Happy Tenth Anniversary of your wedding, Master Detective? 8D

MD: AS IF.

#Mystery Case files #The Harbinger #MCF

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sabrinajennings · 4 years

Text

A Word About Character Development: Appearances

So this is a super hot button topic in which opinions are widely varied, and I'm actually kinda afraid to put my thoughts out there. So definitely don't think this post is meant to be dogmatic (btw NONE of my posts are meant to be dogmatic). I actually struggle really badly with writing characters physical appearances, so most of my opinion here comes as a reader.

1. Ditch the numbers: The only time I would ever describe someone by their height and weight would be to the police, and even then it would be their height and clothes size. I would never ever describe one of my friends to another using their size as a description and I hope they wouldn't describe me that way either. Yet for some reason I read descriptions like "She's 5'11", 125lbs" (btw that's probably an unhealthy weight for someone that tall). Reading a description from a friend (or love interest) that way sounds unrealistic.

It doesn't come off any better in the mirror either. How often do you stand before a full length mirror and think about your appearance in numbers?

Exceptions? If your character is especially tall or short their actual height may become relevant (I have an adult MC who is 4'11" and I have mentioned it.) otherwise words like tallish or on the petite side or average all work fine.

2. Instead try proportions: If you must describe your character's body (and you may find you can forgo such a description - l have found many of my favorite authors do) try proportions.

Examples:

'... Her skirt swirled around her ankles in the summer breeze; the vertical stripes drawing attention to her long legs.' (so it's not a great description - told you I struggle--but you get the idea and it is better, IMO, than 5'11", 125)

or "The western cut of the shirt accentuated his broad shoulders, drawing taut across them as he reached up to adjust his bolo tie."

3. Readers don't need full descriptions on page (or chapter, or even part) 1: I think this is a misconception that leads to the numbers and mirror descriptions. Authors seem to feel the reader needs to 'see' the character from the minute they are introduced when in reality what the character is doing is more interesting than what they look like. Plus readers tend to have pretty vivid imaginations so trust me, they aren't going to picture the character as a crash test dummy until you fill them in. If that's what your worried about, that the reader will picture your character differently than you do- well, I hate to say it, but you *might* have to loosen up on that idea a bit. I know you've spent hours plotting every contour of their face and memorized their scars and/or tattoos, and the way the sunlight glints off that one part of their hair, and the idea of anyone seeing them another way is anathema. But it'll be okay. If you work in some descriptive details here and there later the reader will adjust their idea gradually until it matches yours and it will be much more effective than an info dump on page 3.

4. (most) Readers aren't police sketch artists: Maybe I'm just really bad with art (okay no maybe- I'm hopeless at art) but when I read a description like: 'She had a heart shaped face with high cheekbones, a button nose, and hooded brown eyes framed by hundreds of tiny dredlocks...' I have no idea what this character looks like except for eye color and hair. This description may be perfectly clear to those of you who are artists, but I'm going to have to go to goolge images to try and figure it out. (actually I'm probably just going to imagine what I think they might look like my own way and go on). Once again I would never describe my friends like I was talking to the police.

5. Let them Smile: or frown actually. If you want to talk about their face tell me if their cheeks push their lower lids into a squint when they smile or how much their eyebrows close the upper lids when they frown. Describe dimples and scars. Let me know about nervous habits (do they bite their lip or tongue? Cross their eyes in frustration? Can they raise one eyebrow? (and which one or both independently)). These little things provide (to me at least) a much fuller picture than a description of shapes, and they make the character much more 3-dimensional.

6. Please not a clothes-horse: Wedding? Prom? Halloween? Actual superhero? Model actually during a fashion show? Okay then we probably need to know exactly what the character is wearing. Otherwise a vague (or nonexistent) description of their clothing will suffice. In a contemporary story this slows the pace too much, and in a historical work is slows the pace AND feels like you're trying to show off your research. Plus it makes the POV character feel a bit shallow to me if they are always talking about clothes. Tell me they have on jeans and a T-shirt (or their pj's, Or that they changed into their riding habit) and I'm good to go.

Exception: in addition to the above exceptions, if the characters clothing choices are a noted quirk (I have a character who basically collects pajamas), you should mention them, but a brief description will still get the point across. (example: the character I referred to previously will always be wearing a different pair of pajamas in a night scene, but I still don't go overboard with detail ('red plaid flannel', 'princess camo', 'mickey mouse'). The words on a graphic tee are another great example or a collection of eclectic color sneakers. If the outfit requires a multi-sentence description it needs to be a special outfit.

7. Furniture: Furniture descriptions are pretty rare, but I'm still going to mention it quickly. Basically everything I just said about clothes applies to home furnishings too. If you describe the trash can, it needs to be a really special trash can.

8. Building layout: Ooh this is a tough one. I struggle with this as a writer because I literally use like 2 basic blueprints in my head so if I'm not careful everyone's house comes out the same. Obviously you don't want that, but that's probably a rare problem. More commonly I see way too much detail and I get confused. Maps? They are a staple of certain sub genres but I'd rather not see them elsewhere. I would say most scenes are not dependent on the layout of the building so you can probably leave off the turn by turn tour. Action sequences seem most likely to require specific detail about the setup, and 1 method is to have 2 characters planning an attack which will involve going over the description of the building together. If that doesn't work you can have a single character assess the place in their head right before the information becomes relevant. A verbal blueprint in chapter 1 is probably going to be forgotten by the time we get to a fight scene in chapter 15.

But don't forget your characters are human too. (unless they aren't of course). So they might not remember the layout of a multi story building perfectly and realize only after they have made a mistake (oops we were having a major brawl over top of the jewelry store that has motion sensitive alarms and now the cops are here).

Personally I try not to describe any unnecessary rooms - even their location. If you tell me we are at a 3 story mansion, I will assume about 30 rooms even if you only describe 2. If you try to tell me where all 30 rooms are I will probably skip the description and review it if it becomes relevant.

Yikes that was a long post! Hope this helps someone!

#writer #writing #writers #words #descripcion #authors #author #creativity #creative #character development #character design #writing advice

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travellvogue · 5 years

Text

Fluffy Alphabet- Trent Alexander-Arnold

A= ATTRACTIVE, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on, he swore that the day he met you, completely in awe of how one human could be so breath taking, his favourite feature of yours being your eyes, his mum always told him “fall in love with someone’s eyes, because they never change” and he prays he’ll get to stare into yours for the rest of his time

B- BABYGIRL, he knows as soon as “babygirl” leaves his mouth he’s got you wrapped around his little finger, the look in your eyes when he uses the pet name drives him crazy, desperately just want to kiss you and cuddle you forever, never knowing a simple nickname could have such power over the both of you

C= CUDDLE, he’d be begging for cuddles all the time, any excuse to hold you or be held, loving it so much when your fingers trace his spine or scratch gently at his scalp, and he loves to cuddle you, to have your body clinging to him like a koala makes him feel like he’s protecting you from the world, such love and admiration in his eyes when you fall asleep on his chest

D= DATES, you’d call it ‘date day’, date day would be every Thursdays without fail, whether that simply meant the two of you going out for breakfast,lunch or dinner. Or having movie nights, late night drives to McDonalds drive through to sit in the car park and eat whilst chatting about conspiracy theories and people watching. He’d feel guilty when he’s away, missing date day but he’d always make up for missed time and treat you to the best date day ever.

E= EVERYTHING, he loved everything about you, you brightened every aspect of his life, and he hated that you weren’t able to see just how much light you’ve bought to his world, constantly telling you he loves every single part of you, inside and out, knowing one day you’ll believe him when he tells you you’re perfect

F= FAMILY, you fit into his family like a puzzle piece, he was convinced his mum loved you more then she loved him- always the begging the two of you to hurry up and get married, despite being so young. He’s asked you if you wanted babies in the future, and of course you wanted kids with him, two boys and a girl, all close in age, and all super close with their cousins

G= GENTLE, he was the most gentle soul, put everyone’s needs before his own- and for that you admired him. However, you ensured you looked after him the way he deserved to be, to show him just how special he is, not afraid to show him your soft gentle side, a side not many people saw as you’d built such a barrier, but his manner had your walls tumbling down instantly

H= HUMOUR, you’re both sarcastic little shits, numerous amounts of inside jokes between the two of you, his brothers always involved with the teasing and friendly banter, your dry sense of humour always lifting him up when he’s down

I= I MISS YOU, he found it impossibly hard when he’s away from you, but work consisted of a lot of travel and you couldn’t always come with him, so you relied on facetime, texts, snapchat- anything you could to stay in contact with one another, you’d both find it hard to sleep without one another next to you, the cuddles and kisses where missed severely but it always made it more special when he arrives home to the love of his life waiting for him

J= JEALOUSY, you get jealous sometimes, you know he gets a lot of attention from females and sometimes it made you feel a little insecure, but he’s constantly reminding you how he only ever has eyes for you. But he’s the same, sparks of jealously igniting when he sees men trying to flirt with you, you’re beautiful and anyone would want a part of you. The two of you know how loyal you are to one another, never needing to overthink the attention from others

K= KISS, have you seen his lips? You simply couldn’t get enough of them. Wether that’s a quick rushed kiss in the morning before he has to head off to training, or a loving, desperate kiss when he gets home after a long day. The slight graze of his teeth against your bottom lip when he’s turned on let’s you know exactly what he wants, his tongue subtly slipping inside your mouth in the intent to deepen the kiss

L= LOVE, as crazy as it sounds, the two of you said ‘I love you’ within the first 2 weeks of dating, it just felt so natural, both of you knowing that you wanted to spend the rest of your lives with one another, having no fear in telling each other how in love you are

M= MEMORIES, by far the most memorable moment for the two of you was the Champions League Final, despite having been dating for a year before hand he’d never seen you cry so much- happy tears of course. But for him to be living his dream with you by his side was something he couldn’t thank god enough for. A memory permanently sketch in his mind as he looked up to the rooftops during the parade to blow you a kiss, giggling to himself when he sees you stood in floods of happy tears with his family

N= NICKLE (buying things), you always refuse to let him buy you anything, telling him you don’t need him to splash his cash for you for love him, and he knows that, he loves that you never ask for anything and always pay for your own shit, but he still loves to buy you flowers every week, chocolates when you’re feeling down and little trinkets that remind him of you when he goes away with the team

O= OBSESSIONS, you are obsessed with his world cup trim- of course, no surprise there- and he knew exactly what that haircut did to you, and that’s why he doesn’t get it often, claims it’s “a special treat for my baby” but god when he does get his hair cut he loves the attention you give him, running your fingers through his freshly cut curls and giving him more kisses and attention then he thought was humanly possible

P= PET NAMES, he stuck to the normal ‘baby’ pushing it to ‘babygirl’ when he was feeling extra cuddly (or horny) loving how your eyes lit up at the petname, always earning him an array of kisses. And of course he loved it when the nickname was reversed and you referred to him as ‘baby’ or ‘babyboy’ really only using the nicknames in the privacy of each other’s company

Q= QUEEN, you truly here his queen, obviously his mum was he main ‘queen’ but god did you come close, everything you did he admired, in such of awe of your strong, amazing personality, and of course you’ll be a proper queen when you have a daughter and she becomes his princess

R= RELATIONSHIP, it had always been a ‘meant to be’ relationship, through every up and down, over every hurdle, the two of you hardly argued, hardly had a disagreement or an ‘issue’, and people would tell you all the time that they admired how in love the two of you are, and how happy you make one another

S- SAD, the criticism and hate could get to him a lot sometimes, sad glossy eyes as he endlessly scrolled through twitter, doubting not only his footballing capabilities but all the overwhelming rumours about your relationship, however he’d be so grateful when you shut them down, telling him “you’re the only man i could ever want” or simply reminding him, “you’re twenty T! you’re the most talented twenty year old i know”. And it always led to the best cuddles with his face buried into your neck and hands playing with the rings on your fingers

T= TOUCHY, he’s so touchy, so clingy- and god you loved it. everyone always made subtle comments about it being ‘suffocating’ but the two of you never saw the point in hiding your affection from each other. you love to touch his peachy little bum which always makes him blush but he’ll always return the favour and give yours a good grip

U= UNCONDITIONAL, there’s no doubt that the two of you love each other unconditionally, through every moment of life you’ll thank your lucky stars that god blessed you with your little scouse angel. And god where you grateful to find someone who loved you for you, and every inch of you, always reminding you of the love you deserve and how much he loves you

V= VOICE, you are obsessed with his scouse accent, despite not being able to understand a few things he says over the years you’ve become accustomed to it, you’d always get teased for loving his accent but god it did things to you and he knew that, definitely using it to wrap you round his little finger

W= WEDDING, he’d always day-dream about your wedding, knowing you only wanted a tiny little wedding claiming it was a “waste of money” which he appreciated and agreed with, he knew a ring wasn’t necessary to know both of you love eachother but the thought of calling you his wife and Mrs Alexander-Arnold made him feel like the luckiest man in the world

X= XYLOPHONE (your song), ‘If You Could See Me Now’- The Script (absolute tune btw) it would badly through the speakers so loud at an almost deafening volume, the two of you only knowing the words to the chorus but something about the lyrics resonated and meant more to you then you’d ever thought, wide smiles on both of your faces as you sing along together, hands raised to the sky and you dance along to the beat

Y= YOU, “You’re the north to my south” he’d always tease you for being a ‘northerner’ loving how you sometimes couldn’t understand what he and his family where saying at certain times, “you gotta slow down T, enunciate your words” you’d giggle watching him role his eyes and repeat his sentence slowly

Z- Zzz, starfish was the only way to describe it, you’d always start the night wrapped up in his arms but without fail he’d spread himself out and leave you with about 2 inches of mattress, but it was a full circle, you’d always end up curled up in his arms again by the morning

#trent #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold one shot #trent alexander arnold smut #trent alexander arnold blurb #fluffy alphabet #liverpool fc #liverpool imagines #liverpool #fluff alphabet

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thekleptollama · 4 years

Note

I have some questions for your Charlotte sim from the OC Ask thing: 89, 93, 30, 21, 22, 25, and 3? :) (your theme is adorable btw!!)

Thank u! I was so stressed out trying to find the theme on my old simblr but I gave up and found this one. I like it much better hahah. And thanks for the questions! Charlotte would be happy to answer them

3 - What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

So the piece of shit man I have to refer to as my biological father liked the name Charlotte because it sounded so regal and classy. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps and work in politics so he thought it sounded right for the future he planned out for me. Let’s just say that didn’t work out too well hahah. Justin makes fun of me for it so as a nickname he calls me Char or Scar (I got a scar from a stealing incident oops).

21. What is their favorite thing about their personality?

Oof Justin always tells me what he loves about me so I feel like these are mostly his words because he says it best. I really love how I can draw inspiration from anywhere, anything or anyone. I never get burnt out from my art, my talent. My friends always get annoyed at me taking pictures or writing notes or doing quick sketches of the littlest happenings. It’s a blessing to see such beauty in everywhere I go and I feel an inner duty to capture it though my perspective.

22. What is their least favorite thing about their personality?

I hate that I get jealous so easily! I don’t even mean with Justin but with my art. Whenever we go to galleries or showcases I feel so little/lesser than when I compare my work to other people. It ruins everyone else’s vibe since I take it so personally ugh... I really need to work on this more

25. What is their biggest flaw?

I definitely love to stir some shit not going to lie LMAO. It mostly started with me nitpicking on my older sister, Aspyn but it just kinda had a domino effect on everything else. Kind of quick to piss off and would rather lose a limb than to say sorry :/

30. When frightened, will they resort to “fight” or “flight”?

FIGHT ME BITCH THESE HANDS MAY BE PERFECTLY MANICURED BUT THEY ARE MEANT FOR THROWING

89. What is their D&D alignment?

oooh maybe chaotic neutral?

93. What’s the most iconic line of dialogue they’ve ever said?

Hey it’s Kristen here so I’ll take this one. Justin and Charlotte ALWAYS throws parties and likes to stuff everyone in their tiny house. Well it was Spooky Day and it’s both of their favorite holidays since they love dressing up. Right when the costume party started the camera zoomed to Charlotte and I got a lil dialogue saying “How do you like my costume? I should have it for about x hours. Hahah” I thought it was so cute

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armazeilor · 4 years

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19 but with 28 ... ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ wink wonk fuck me up.

@illdivine — soulmate au prompts.

19. the one where soulmates are reincarnated and keep finding each other throughout their different lives.28. the one where some people can see the red string of fate and follow it to their soulmates.

He felt as if he’d eaten something rotten. Festering somewhere between his chest and stomach, a feeling he couldn’t shake like dread hanging upon his shoulders, like reminiscing, stuck between sickly and restless to the point he wondered whether that wine he’d had was one to blame. The lover’s ache, is what they’d call it; out in the summer kitchen his grandfather had found him standing, scouring the fridge for anything he might have had that wouldn’t sit right, wouldn’t look right, re-purposed water bottle filled now with a medium-dry held up against the window light to check for anything abnormal. “You’re up early,” he’d greet the boy, “And already you’ve got the wine?” But he sees the look on the lad’s features, ‘all good,’ he reassures but fails to fool his knowing elder. “Get us some bread,” he tells him simply; “And let us talk about it over breakfast.”

Summer. Golden blur of afternoons and roaring storm clouds never quite loud enough to clear his mind, half-opened gaze grasping at shards of moonlight amidst the far lull of the singing crickets. Of course he knew what bothered him; he mulled and mulled over it still walking the path down to the corner store, shrouded in morning fog, not a creature there to stir the grey-green of this early daybreak save for a hound somewhere, yonder, barking from across the hills. He looks off to the side, looks to where the fir woods climb along the slope so steep and he thinks he sees something, a mirage—a berry bush perhaps in bloom, the faintest inkling of red like thread caught in their thorny brambles and for a beat he swears he’s dreaming, blinks only as he finds the trail is leading up to him. There, innocuous upon his finger, the thread was tied like it belonged. The startled leap of his heart stops him in his tracks; pale greens follow the thing down to the forest floor and further on until sheer impulse begins to tug him closer, beckons for him once more to stray from the beaten path like he had done too many years ago, a creature of the wild side not to trust, not to be seen.

A creature simmering with lightning.

“Where are you off to now?” scolds a voice from across time but still he wouldn’t listen, bewitched he looks up to the secret trail ahead.

“—I’ve seen something,” he breathes only, and off he goes amidst the thickets to see at last that it was true. Set out like cunning bait the thread went up and up and higher till he could see its trail no more, and far too young he is to think of danger when he remembers, when he recalls at once he knows no fear and follows quick, heaving, expectant, when he climbs through ferns and moss and evergreens to reach the summit—to look below.

And how it surprises, how he recoils, a drop somewhere in his soaring spirit when the winds pick up form down the valley, down where the sisters’ convent stood. Tiny thing crowned with its pointed crosses yet rattling the pagan so, scorching is his gaze as eyes narrow, not understanding. He sees the thread snaking through gardens and vanishing so far below beyond the abbey’s door unseen; a furrow of his brow alone shows interest fade to distaste, a scowl there not unlike resentment for the sorcerer looks like he takes offence.

And it would haunt him throughout his days, the flimsy phantom thread upon his finger connecting to someplace unknown. He scarcely remembers a time when he couldn’t see it, when he couldn’t feel its ghostly tug. He still thinks of that golden evening when finally he’d found her; beautiful melting dusk out far into the deeper forests, air heavy with nectar and sweet almost as the nun that woke from her untimely sleep, opening those night dark eyes to the green smoulder of his own. She had enraptured; struck him somewhere he’d thought was secret, heel of Achilles for the pagan’s creed when reaching out she’d clasped his hand and he saw it, crimson as blood: the thread on her dainty finger connected, he knew now, to his own.

For days he’d thought about it, when she had stuffed him back into that closet—closer than he thought he’d know her, scaring off the god within his eye and letting through the meekness, guilt, the strange foreign desire for a kind of thrill to him unknown.

It aggravated him, how later he would find himself searching for her, lingering around her convent like a wolf circling the sheepfold. Horia knew that she would come: she always did, as though she felt him, dreamt maybe the dreams he had, heard something in the sparrow’s song that guided her out to the hills, the forests.

“They tell me many things,” cryptically he would confide, yet still they wouldn’t say what mattered. What did matter to him was unspeakable, he knew; shame heavy within his faithful heart and redder even than the twilight bleeding across his countenance when the nun would smile to him, too understanding, when she would stare in knowing silence.

“Like what?” she’d said then drawing closer, a hum lacing her voice like sweet delight, a melody.

“That’s between me and the trees,” he’d teased. What had been meant to be a smirk however had come out like a sketch of it, bashful instead and boyish. He remembered then, the tilt of her head, her soft hand reaching over—brushing fiery strands away, tucked behind his ear as he held his breath almost, unthinking. He might have leaned in closer still had he the nerve to, a sinful pull of greenest gaze down to her lips, so slow, so careful. He could have kissed her then: it ran through the monk’s mind like it had never done before, a thought too far beyond all of his limits that he had failed to see its gravity.

“You’re so silly.”

—Of course.

The cashier laughed, watching him fumble with the foreign money until he found at last the currency he needed.

“Right. God. Sorry, it’s a force of habit.”

“Youths these days! You must be in love. Go home and eat well, honey, you’re all skin and bone.”

A strange day it had been, just like the ones before it. He’d dreamt that night, a stranger dream: he’d stood there by an edge of woodlands and he had heard the church bells ringing, ghastly echo across the mountains. He recalled the birdsong of a day like summer resounding bright yet faded, and felt a drop within his stomach—dread, dread and desire mixing poisonous together to form a black concoction like the night dark eyes now staring, the lilac evening heavy round them, settling. Louder did the monastery bell ring—lower did his gaze sink, thoughtless, again landing on lips forbidden when softest hands cradled his visage guiding him to her, nearing, her air close enough to taste. He recalled, he recalled, without a word she’d met him and beneath the gaze of God he’d answered, he’d kissed her back so tentative, docile under her touch.

‘Judith,’ he’d breathed.

The text that just came in had said so. Her name read at the very top, a trail of hearts before and after. Horia took another bite of his bread slathered in eggplant spread, stifled a laugh at Judith’s message.

‘miss you too. eat something btw. dummy.’

He pressed send without so much as thinking twice. Placing the phone down again he noticed it, the ghostlike string that weeks ago he could have sworn he’d just imagined—innocuous upon his finger, discreet yet always there, stretching towards the floor and farther off beyond the door right at his back, the river, beyond the mountains headed somewhere he couldn’t see.

He couldn’t see, but somehow he felt like he knew—the trees had told him many things.

#illdivine #( A HUNDRED YEARS LATER......I FINISH THIS........#slams this onto the dashboard without a readmore or anything #who cares #just. have my love #I have no shame any more #really tried to blur the line between past life and present life jfdislsjkgkjdoeiwf I still live for this jojie....#getting back to this has brought many wonderful memories #love you #hope you're ok #take care all right?#love you )

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punkcupcakestyles · 5 years

Text

Love Song

“Of course it does. I’m fucking cute.”

“You are. And I really want to kiss you right now.”

“But you can’t.”

“I can’t.”

Catch up!

I had messed up, I knew that much, or at least a part of me, the smart one, knew it. The other part was reeling in excitement, a smile plastered on my face as I kept replaying the kiss in my head.

God, that kiss.

I could remember every second of it, the sweetness of his lips, and the eagerness of his touch as he explored, with nails scraping lightly on my skin as his fingers dug on the curves of my body.

We had kissed until our lips were swollen and there was no more air in our lungs.

"Sorry," He had chuckled as he broke the kiss, pulling away just enough to look at me. His fingers were caressing down my arms, so softly that a million goosebumps rose at his wake, and I couldn't help but let out a shaky breath. His lips were as purple as mine, swollen with the kisses we had shared, and his cheeks were pink flushed, giving him a boyish look that only added to his already ridiculous charm.

"S'okay," I whispered, the warm fuzziness of the kiss still buzzing on my kiss. I could feel it on my chest, as my heart thumped in somewhat joy and somewhat guilt. It made my fingers prickle and my brain to jump from one memory to the other, still uncertain that it hadn't been just a fickle of its active imagination. Real or just my imagination, I was never going to have a kiss like that again.

But then again, it hadn't been just a kiss, it was a moment of complete abandon, one where I had let curiosity win the battle, and allowed myself to go far beyond from where I was supposed to go.

I wished I had kissed him a little more, with those butterfly kisses you see in the movies, with my hands cupping his face and his own fingers tangled in my hair. It would've been a lot nicer that way. But instead, I had untangled myself from him and went to sit right by his side, my fingers slipping from his as he allowed me to go.

It was easier to breathe that way, easier to think too, without the temptation of his cherry lips so close to me. I smiled shyly and my fingers knotted in my hair, bringing it behind my ear, in a clumsy attempt to give myself something to do.

"What I said earlier was true, y'know?" Harry finally said, breaking the air that was filled with tense electricity, the same one that was bubbling in my tummy and prickling on the tip of my fingers. His words made me look at him, deep into his eyes this time, and to notice the curiosity that was burning in them. "I can play by your rules."

"I thought what you said earlier was that we could be friends."

"That too. I'd really like that too. I just...I just got a feeling they're important to you." His smile was sincere and shy, his little dimples popping out on his face as he cast down his gaze. What was I supposed to say, anyway?

"So, no more kisses?"

"We can figure that out." His smirk grew and I realized just how stupidly easy it was for him to jump from a sweet boy to the dashing man he actually was. He rolled his bottom lip into his mouth and leaned just a little bit, enough so his breath fanned over my skin and I could smell his cologne. "We just need to behave," he whispered, a secret for both of us to keep and break.

"I behave, Styles," I whispered back. "Maybe you should be the one to stop smirking and...kissing me."

"I'll try my best. Can't promise anything, though."

"You're an idiot," I giggled for a second, before inhaling deeply as I licked my lips. For the first time that night, I failed to look him in the eyes. "It's not about sex, you'know?" It wasn't. I had no idea what it was about, though. I just needed those rules, that security, that sense of control, the idea of being in charge of something, of anything, really.

"You don't have to explain why they're important, Sof, I just know that they are. That's enough, innit?" He said, and the sincerity in his voice made me smile, and look at him as his fingertips brushed lightly over my hand, a simple touch meant to reassure me. "What?"

"Haven't met many guys like you, Harry," I said. "I still can't figure out if that's a good thing."

"It's a sad thing for sure."

"It is," I chuckled, even if there was not much to laugh about. His lips were sweet and soft when they met mine in a quick kiss, fingers cupping gingerly around my face as he pulled me closer. Just a second, not long enough to get lost in him, but able to make my breath hitch.

"That was the last one," he whispered as he broke the kiss.

"You promise?"

"I can't," he smirked in response. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Now? It's almost day!"

"I know, but I, uh, I need a minute alone. Or maybe two," he replied bashfully, and it took me a couple of seconds to realize what he meant. When I did, I looked away from him, so I could hide the flush on my cheeks.

"Go."

15 minutes had gone by and Harry still hadn't come out of the bathroom. Time was my enemy, really, cause it gave me the opportunity to think, to dwell on the awkwardness and regret the things that didn't happen, and the ones that weren't going to happen. The more I thought, the more nervous I got, dry mouth and thumping heart.

The shower finally stopped running and I could hear Harry as he rummaged through the bathroom, getting ready to come out. I closed my eyes and let myself slid into the covers, pretending to be asleep when I heard the door open. A sigh echoed in the air, a couple of steps and a door closing again. The lights were off and I was alone in bed.

Harry had left.

***

- INFO YOU NEED TO KNOW -

Name of the show: The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon

Host: Jimmy Fallon

Time slot: 11:35/10:35 C

Location: New York

Who will be featured with you?: Saoirse Ronan and John Legend.

Sketches: You’ll be participating on either Box of Lies (he’ll give you an object and you either lie your ass off or tell the truth about it, while he tries to guess); Dance Battle (there is a dance move generator); or Egg Russian Roulette (literally, you’ll be cracking eggs over your head).

You’re gonna be wearing an Elie Saab black dress with a plunging neckline (it’s already picked, Midge loved it). We would very much rather if you didn’t play the Egg Russian Roulette. We’ll see what we can do.

Jimmy Fallon laughs a lot. Try to ignore that.

If asked about Harry, divert. We’re still not talking about it.

We’ll leave to New York at 3. Be early.

I left a new script at your place this morning. I would like to touch basis with you on the plane, see if it’s anything that interests us. (I wonder where you were 🤔)

We’re having dinner with Harry and his friends tonight. We’ll be arriving at the hotel at around 9ish, so you won’t have a lot of time to get ready. I left a couple of outfit options as well.

BTW, we need to talk.

***

Maybe I could still make it. After all, it was only 12:15, which left me a little less than 3 hours to go home, take a shower, pack, and get across town to board the flight.

I wasn’t going to make it.

Diana was gonna kill me.

I was dashing through the room, picking and piling the few things that belonged to me onto the bed, and sighing in desperation when I realized they would simply not fit into the ridiculously tiny purse I had with me.

There was no way I was putting on the dress I had the night before, I wasn’t looking forward to being seen on it as I left Harry’s house, or to have my picture taken as I did what it would look like a “walk of shame”. Instead, I had decided to keep on Harry’s clothes, even if his sweatpants felt tight around my ass and the upper part of my thighs. My hair was dangling dangerously from a top knot, threatening to fall apart if I moved too fast and my eyes were puffy from the lack of sleep.

God, let there be no paparazzi outside his home. I wasn’t photo-ready anyway.

“You look nice.” The voice startled me, making my heart jump before I turned hastily to look at him. There he was, leaning onto the door frame, as he wore a clean black t-shirt and black jeans, and he leaned onto the door frame.

Harry smiled in satisfaction at my reaction and slowly walked into the room. It was only then that I noticed the pink suitcase he was carrying, one that looked exactly like the one I used for short trips.

“Is that mine?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Diana called, asked if you were ready for the trip. I told her you were. Then I woke up Sam, called your sister and asked her to pack your stuff, and Sam went to get it,” he explained. “Perfect plan, innit?”

“Y-you talked to Cat?”

“Yeah...I know you said “no families”, but uh…”

“Thank you,” I replied softly before he could explain himself any further. He had saved my ass, after all.

I realized I wanted to kiss him, lightly and sweetly. A tiny peck on his cheeks, or a quick kiss on his lips, anything to have him close once more, to feel his warmth, and get a chance to nuzzle my face in the crook of his neck. That was something I probably shouldn’t do.

Harry brought the suitcase over the bed and sat next to it. It was pink and soft, covered everywhere with the bright orange logo of the high-end brand. It had been the first stupid purchase I had ever made after I had made sure we had a roof over our heads, food on our table and Cat was enrolled in a private school, all expenses already paid for. My mom was slowly coming out of her haze and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe again. So I had bought it, a way to celebrate myself and the fact that we had peeked out of the darkness.

“What are you wearing?” Harry drawled, as I started to look for something to change into. My cheeks blushed, pink and hot, and I looked at him with a shy smile of my own.

“I, uh, didn’t want anyone to see me wearing the same clothes. I didn’t want the rumors.”

“So you decided to wear my clothes instead? That’s a great plan.”

“I didn’t think about that,” I smiled. I finally found a V-neck white tee, and a pair of light blue jeans that would be comfortable enough to travel in. “Where did you sleep?”

I wondered if the question had come off accusingly, or if it was as casual and carefree as I had intended it to be. Either way, I realized I shouldn’t have asked it.

“A guest room...”

“Oh.”

“I figured you wanted space. Didn’t you?”

I nodded in response, which was easier than to say what I was really thinking. Like it would’ve been nice for him to stay, or that his bed was too damn big for just one person.

I didn’t know if he quite believed me, a curious glint burning in his eyes as he looked at me. If he didn’t, he didn’t say anything, but licked his lips and remained silent as he let himself fall back on the bed. It shifted under his weight, and I smiled at him when he looked up.

“We should get our story straight, y’know?” He said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we should know our story, especially if we’re meeting my friends tonight.”

“Just tell’em the truth, Harry.”

“I really don’t wanna do that,” Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he went back to look at the ceiling. He clasped his hands over his tummy and pressed his lips together, deep in thought.

“Ok, how about this?” I put my clothes down and climbed on the bed to lie by his side. “You saw me at a party, thought I was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, told Jeff that if he didn’t get my number you would burn down his house, and here we are!”

“That sounds like something that could happen,” he chuckled, turning to one side to face me. My smile widened as I looked at him and felt the soft tickles of his fingers as they snuck under my shirt. It was soft and sweet, meant to have me close to him and nothing else.

“Of course it does. I’m fucking cute.”

“You are. And I really want to kiss you right now.”

“But you can’t.”

“I can’t.”

***

I had made it.

I was sitting on the leather chair, with my knees against my chest, as the plane got ready to take off. Diana, Jeff, Harry and I were the only passengers, and the two boys were talking as Diana sat in front of me.

“You know there’s a lot of actors out there that don’t travel with their agent everywhere?” I asked the blonde girl, who rose her eyebrow as she offered me a smirk.

“Consider yourself lucky, then,” she replied.

“I do.”

“Did you have time to check the script?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t.” I felt myself blush in embarrassment, as I looked at the way she rolled her eyes at me.

“Good thing I got a copy. See? Having your agent by your side is pretty useful,” she handed me a thick script, with a handwritten note on the first page, and the title of the movie written in bold caps.

“Dear Midge,

I think this would be perfect for Sofia, and Sofia would be perfect for us. Audrey wouldn’t have been Audrey without Holly.

To our new Holly.

Kisses,

B.”

“Breakfast at Tiffany's?” I chuckled in disbelief. “Are you crazy? This is one of the most beloved characters in cinema’ history.”

“I know.” She replied simply, a sweet smile replacing the sly one from before. “And they want you. This is a great remake. They’re gonna play Holly’s bisexuality and Paul’s homosexuality, which obviously wasn’t featured in the original one, she’s gonna be an actual scort, even smoke weed. You’re gonna be the Holly that Truman Capote intended her to be.”

“I’m gonna murder Holly,” I sighed. The script fell on the coffee table between our seats, and I got up from my chair to walk to the back of the plane, where they had coffee and snacks ready for us.

“Let’s do this.” I heard Diana say as she followed behind. “Read the script and we can talk about it later. The role is yours if you want it.”

It was time for me to roll my eyes at her.

I poured coffee for both of us and leaned into the counter as she stood by my side. For a second, it looked as if she had something to say, but didn’t know how; her lips rolled into her mouth and her eyes cast over the red coffeemaker. The silence upon us was suffocating, even for just a few seconds, and I cleared my throat to call her attention to me.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing. I just…” There were very few times where I had seen Diana struggle with words. Each time was scarier than the other. “I talked to your dad.”

“You what?” We were well out of earshot, but I still hissed my words under my breath. My heart felt as if it could stop at any second, racing fast and strong as Diana shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

“I, uh, he called, asked for you. I thought that, well, I’ve never heard you talk about him, so I decided to see him, find out what he wanted.”

“What did he want?”

“Nothing...He, uh, asked about you, about Cat, wanted to know you were ok. I made sure he was as comfortable as he could, and that he was able to go back home.”

“You gave him money…”

It was actually a relief, to see her doubt for a second right before she nodded. He wasn’t after me, or Cat, or mom. I could live with that.

“Yeah, Yeah,” Diana continued. “He didn’t want to, though. But I, I wanted him to…”

“Get the hell out of L.A.? Thank you, me too.”

“Yes, but he had this crazy story, y’know? About how you left home. Pretty fucking away from the standard ‘She always wanted to be an actress and we let her move to a corrupt city when she was way too young, so she could shoot her shot’ one.”

“D…”

“I don’t wanna know, Sof. We just need to make sure this doesn’t come out.”

“Yeah.”

“And please, consider the movie. We need a second Oscar,” she said in a loud voice, while she took both of our cups in her hands and turned to go back to her seat. “Better yet, win that first Oscar!”

I stood where I was, leaning against the counter as I tried to imagine what my father had told Diana. It could’ve been anything, even the truth. I was unable to move or even breathe, so I just stared at the group of people that were sitting in front of me. Harry was laughing loudly at something Diana had just said, while she sat primly on her chair. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and he leaned forward as his arms hugged around his own tummy. They seemed happy, far from the darkness that was pressing down my chest and making everything seem distant and bleak.

“Excuse me, miss? I need you to sit down, we’re about to hit some turbulence,” the petite flight attendant told me. She had popped out of nowhere, and I stared at her for a second, wondering how much, if any, of our conversation she had heard. She smiled shyly at me, but still, her firm hand guided me to my seat, repeating her order to everyone so they would sit.

Harry sat next to me and looked at me in surprise as I took his hand in mine. “Are you scared of flying?” He asked and I replied with a swift nod of my head. I wasn’t, I just needed something to anchor me to reality. Closing my eyes, I leaned back onto the chair and tried to focus on the loud thumps of my heart, counting them as Harry began to rub soothing circles on my skin.

“It’s ok,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

“We’ll fall together.”

“Literally.”

***

“So, let’s talk about sleeping arrangements,” Diana told me as the plane was landing.

I looked up from the script, which I had been reading during the whole flight, and quirked my eyebrow at her sheepish smile. Harry, whose head was resting on my shoulder as he slept, stirred just a bit in protest.

“What?”

“Well, Harry has an apartment in New York. We’re staying at a hotel in Tribeca and Harry would come and go as he pleases. Unless you want to stay in his apartment, he offered.”

“I’ll stay at the hotel.”

“That’s a good idea.” Diana smiled proudly.

Between landing and getting our things in the car, we arrived at the hotel at 9ish, just as Diana had predicted. What she hadn’t told me was the fact that there were going to be paparazzi waiting for me in front of the hotel. I glared at her as she offered me an apologetic smile, and without saying anything, she jumped out of the car, with Jeff following suit, to get our stuff.

Harry came out first and went to help Jeff carry our suitcases into the hotel. When it was my turn to come out, I just dashed to the entrance, getting into the hotel without answering or even acknowledging the insidious questions thrown my way. I wasn’t in the mood for them, or anyone really.

Diana and Jeff stayed at the lobby, while Harry and I got to the top floor of the hotel without saying a word. He stood right next to me during the whole ride, holding my suitcase on one and an overnight bag over his shoulder. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were puffy, revealing just how little sleep we had had the night before He looked tired, and somehow still managed to be the most handsome boy I had seen that night, week, year.

“You ok?” He asked as the elevator opened its doors and we were met with a pristine corridor. The hotel, that mostly looked like a remodeled speakeasy bar, was spotless and modern, with high ceilings and trendy decoration.

“Yeah, I’m just tired.”

“Wanna skip tonight’s dinner?” He offered, waiting for me to open the door to the room.

“I’m sorry, yes, I’m not in the mood for people. Do you mind?”

“No, please, get some rest” he reassured me.

I hurried to turn the lights on as soon as we got in, revealing a luxurious room with black and white furniture and a huge window that looked over the Hudson River. There was a huge TV, and a couple of warm blue blankets over one of the couches, and a bar table with whiskey and champagne on it. A giant sliding door lead to a private rooftop, with chairs to take the sun.

“Harry…Could you stay with me? I don’t wanna be alone.”

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry #harry writing #harry smut #hs #harry styles one shot #writing #fake dating

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the-quiet-winds · 5 years

Text

Shake it till You See it

so this one was an idea i had that @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts and i wrote together and, to be quite honest, it is hands down one of my favorite ones we’ve ever done (not including the ward au because that is our damn CHILD but you understand (which btw the first part of the next installment should be up tomorrow))

this one is pretty soft overall, but there are some moments of self-deprecation. otherwise, we should be pretty good.

being on tour had given the queens the opportunity to travel all over europe, and the producers told them that in the future they were planning on taking the tour global. right now, the queens were in Spain, and aragon had delighted in the opportunity to show her fellow queens around. on this particular day, however, both jane and parr had decided to stay at home while the others went to a nearby beach; parr immediately retires to the tiny room she’d commandeered as an office in their rented accommodation, while jane decides to get some cleaning done. the other queens, as lovely as they were, did not seem to have ‘keeping tidy’ mastered in their list of skills. it was a tie between boleyn and katherine as to who was the messiest with their belongings, and so jane decides to tackle katherine’s room first. she starts by sorting the large pile of clean laundry sitting on the desk that katherine had never got around to putting away. she starts placing them in the correct drawers, but upon opening katherine’s sock drawer she’s faced with a notebook. the cover is plain pink and jane picks it up, frowning slightly. she was going to put it back, but then a photo falls out of the notebook and drifts to the floor.

jane picks it up and a wave of nostalgia washes over her.

the picture is of jane and parr from when they were in finland, touring helsinki. parr had taken the picture, jane remembers with a fond smile. the two of them had been sitting at a table outside a tiny cafe, eating finger sandwiches and drinking iced tea (a horrifying concept to jane, but it wasn’t absolutely horrible). the moment captured in the picture was when jane let out one of her trademarked ‘mum puns’, as they were called, causing katherine to uproariously laugh and jane to grin quite goofily at katherine’s reaction.

jane smiles down at the photograph for a moment or two. she opens the notebook, intending to just tuck the photograph in the pages, but the page it falls open on catches her eye.

there was a photograph of her and katherine, both fast asleep at an airport. katherine’s legs were tucked under her and her head was resting on jane’s shoulder. next to the photo were some sparkly silver star stickers, placed seemingly randomly across the page, and underneath were the words “Glasgow Airport, 23rd December” written in pink glitter pen. in smaller letter underneath it reads “me and jane talked about the brönte sisters - she loves them (note to self: read bronte sisters?)”

a rush of affection runs through jane’s system at the note. she’s suddenly struck with a memory of seeing katherine toting around one or two brönte books not too long after.

the opposing page is all written in fine green ink:

“it’s christmas! jane loved the CDs, she says she’s going to listen to them all the time. she got me this gorgeous jewelry box from stockholm and i think she wants me to put a picture in the lid. i just don’t know which one to choose!”

a soft smile grows on jane’s lips; she remembers vividly katherine running into her room a week and a half after christmas to proudly display the box, complete with a photo of the two of them at their London press night. both of them had been shocked at the positive response and had giddy smiles on their faces, wearing the gorgeous dresses they’d bought specifically for that occasion. from what she’d written, it seemed as if katherine had agonised over the choice for that full amount of time and the thought was sweetly endearing to jane.

she doesn’t even realise she’s turning the page until it’s already happened, eyes already skimming the next passage.

“18th January - we arrived in norway yesterday and the first show was a blast! lots of positive reception.

last night i had a stupid nightmare. the usual. i don’t really know how, but when i woke up, jane was there. she did that thing with my hair that calms me down.”

there are some water droplets on the page, presumably tears to jane.

“i don’t know what i did without her, to be honest.”

jane stares down at the page, heart aching for katherine. “oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, even though there’s nobody around to hear her. she looks over at the opposite page, where katherine had stuck a ticket to Oslo Aquarium at the top.

“19th January - we went to the aquarium! just me and jane. i think she wanted to make me feel better after last night. when we were in the cafe jane went to pay for everything and a woman asked me where ‘my mum’ got her coat from!!” the word ‘mum’ was underlined three times and jane stares at it, trying to work out if it was meant to be positive or negative.

jane knows she shouldn’t keep reading. these were katherine’s private thoughts, obviously not meant to be read by anyone else.

but jane’s curiosity was killing her.

she flips the page.

“katherine’s 2am thought #46” is written across the top. “jane really really REALLY loves when her mum puns”

this brings a smile out of jane and she gives a small laugh. the journal continues on like this, memories and tickets and photographs littered throughout. one page features a small sketch of a person; it was difficult to tell who it was supposed to be due to the fact it was unfinished and had a scribble through it, with “WHY CANT I DRAW” written in biro underneath. jane frowns. she personally thought the drawing was quite good. the next page was even worse, however.

katherine had just written the word “stupid” over and over again, in shaky handwriting and with tear stains littering the page.

jane’s heart twists and her jaw falls open in a small gasp. it seems so logical, jane realizes, that katherine would have some (...a lot, really) of self-esteem issues. jane hates knowing that she’s suffered in such a way and somewhere, deep down, promises that, if she can help it, katherine will never feel so low about herself again.

little does she expect, when she turns the page, to read a similar sentiment echoed in katherine’s words.

“25th January - we went on a walk this morning. there was a woman with a little boy, she was helping him learn to ride a bike. jane tries to hide it but i know it got to her, seeing that. i wanna try and make her feel better. i don’t know how, but i’m gonna try. she deserves to be happy.”

tears well in jane’s eyes and the little statement. she then very clearly remembers what must have been that evening when katherine came into jane’s room, blanket around her shoulders and ‘wuthering heights’ clenched in her hand, shyly asking if they could read together. it was a tender moment, one which ended in katherine asleep practically in jane’s lap at that point. it had, in fact, made jane incredibly happy to share something she loves with someone she loves

jane is flipping through a few more pages when suddenly there’s a clatter of the front door being thrown open and a gaggle of overexcited voices float down the corridor. jane hurriedly goes to shove the journal back into the drawer, but a charm on her bracelet catches on a page and as she yanks her arm away the page rips.

she doesn’t even realize the page ripped and simply closes the drawer and hurried back to where she was folding the laundry.

katherine walks in a moment later, hair slicked back from the water, a ‘six!’ tank top and gym shorts over her bathing suit.

“oh, hey jane,” she says surprised, but not displeased at having this particular guest in her room. “whatcha up to?”

katherine’s eyes fall on the single discarded page and picks it up. her eyes widen. it’s the page from her journal where she had simply written ‘stupid’ over and over. she looks at jane with wide eyes. “what were you doing?” she asks fearfully.

jane freezes, eyes widening as she spots the page in katherine’s hand. “I-” she starts. “I was just doing some tidying, love.”

“how did this end up on the floor?” katherine asks, voice with a thin veneer of calm over the clear panic. jane doesn’t answer for a moment. she doesn’t want to tell the truth, doesn’t want to admit that she violated katherine’s privacy by reading her personal thoughts, but it doesn’t take a genius to work out how the paper ended up outside of the journal, and jane knows that katherine already knows the answer to her question.

jane deflates, shoulders sagging. “i’m sorry, love,” she says quietly, not meeting katherine’s shocked and probably hurried face. “i didn’t mean to, i just opened the drawer and saw the book. then something fell out so i went to pick it up and i was stuck. please forgive me, kat.” jane looks down, ashamed, waiting for katherine’s response.“nobody was meant to see that,” katherine says quietly. she doesn’t know how to react; she mostly just feels embarrassment. her cheeks flush as she thinks of jane reading the parts where katherine is thrilled to be mistaken for jane’s daughter, or the stupid childish stickers she’d put on some pages, or her self-pitying rambles. she’d be surprised if jane could see her as anything except a stupid little girl after reading that, and she looks down to avoid eye contact.

jane notices katherine’s cheeks and ears burn bright red. katherine isn’t mad, she’s embarrassed. about what, though? what was she not meant to see?

she suddenly remembers seeing ‘mum’ underlined three times on the aquarium page.

“i’d be honored if someone thought you were my daughter,” she says quietly and suddenly.

katherine looks up, eyes wide and almost disbelieving. “r-really?” she asks, voice practically reaching a squeak. jane nods, not reaching out to her but just subtly opening her arms, in case katherine wanted a hug. just as she predicted, katherine lets out a tiny, slightly embarrassed noise of happiness and darts into her arms. her hair and clothes are still damp from the water but jane doesn’t mind.

“i still shouldn’t have looked at your journal, though, kat,” jane says as she hugs katherine. “and for that i really am sorry, I promise you it won’t happen again.”

“it’s okay,” katherine squeaks. a thought strikes her and she pulls away. jane panics, hoping that katherine didn’t have a sudden change of heart. katherine digs the book out and flips wildly on it, looking for a certain page. she blushes heavily as she shyly hands the book to jane.

“this is like the only good drawing in here,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

the sketch is in dark pencil, a drawing of her and jane together on the couch. katherine looks to be curled up, head on jane’s lap, the other woman’s hands gently resting in her hair.

“kat, this is brilliant,” jane says softly, eyes transfixed on the drawing. katherine fidgets slightly.

“you really think so?”

“i do,” jane smiles. katherine looks uncertain for a moment.

“would you like it?” she blushes again. “the drawing, i mean. you can have it, if you want.” she shrugs, as if nonchalant, but her cheeks pink and ruin the effect.

“i’d love it, sweetheart.”

jane, remembering what else she’d seen in the journal, sets it down and katherine’s heart sinks. it only gets worse when jane takes her hands and tugs her to the bed, where they sit down next to each other. jane turns to face kat before speaking.

“about what else i saw in there,” she starts and katherine cringes, knowing exactly what she saw and what was about to come.

she didn’t expect jane’s hands to leave hers and gently come to cup her cheeks, tenderly bringing her face up so they were eye to eye.

“kat, love,” jane says, “i know that you have a lot of...,” she searches for the right words, “self-esteem issues, perhaps.” katherine flinches slightly, so jane strokes a thumb lightly on her cheek. “i just want you to know that you can talk to me about anything, and i’ll never judge or think anything less of you.”

katherine looks down, and then back up at jane, eyes wide and uncertain. jane does her best to pour all the love she has into her reassuring smile, and katherine sends her a weak one of her own.

“thank you,” she says quietly. jane tucks a strand of hair behind katherine’s ear.

“it’s no trouble, love. i’m here for you, always.”

katherine’s eyes well with tears again, and jane hopes they’re tears of relief.

sure enough katherine’s resolve crumbles as she falls into jane’s arms, mumbling words of thanks and love into the crook of jane’s neck.

jane gently strokes her hair. “always, love. always.”

#six the musical #six musical #jane seymour #katherine howard #julie and jess write #shake it till you see it

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hermannsthumb · 5 years

Note

Hi! it's me again, the person who named their cat after Newton. Just wanted to share a thing that happened today I let him out and like 20 min later an older gentleman calls me to say that my dumbass of a kitten had followed him home. I had to drive over there to get him (he was fine btw, the man was really nice and even gave him some food). But like, newmann au where Hermanns cat runs away and attractive stranger Newt takes care of the kitten until Hermann comes to get him.

Anonymous said: i hc that 1 of many reasons hermann loves cats is bc they're like tiny lil mathematicians!! calculating angles n trajectory before they jump, evaluating the way things move etc. no-kaiju au hermann has 2 clever cats n finds out that newt loves cats too, so they kind of hook on to that as a small talk prompt so they don't kill each other. but one day herms has to drop smth off @ newts n finds out his cat is The Most Stupid Orange Boy Ever bc like what did he expect. ofc he loves them both anyway.

i loved both of these messages so much and i love newt and hermann and cats so im....making a little ficlet combining the two (with some stretching of the anon message)...this is SO hallmark channel original its atrocious

Hermann’s never been the type for pets, not even when he was a child. Nor has he ever been the type for caring for really any living thing. He’s not the nurturing type. He had a small terrarium with a turtle as a child (a birthday gift from a relative who’s long dead at this point) and kept a houseplant for a month (a housewarming gift from an overenthusiastic neighbor in the flat next door), but his sister claimed ownership of the turtle when he went off for university and he hasn’t seen it since, and the plant quickly withered and died from lack of natural sunlight.

But the winter months always hit Hermann the hardest (seasonal depression compounded on top of regular depression compounded on top of Hermann’s semi-self-inflicted aching loneliness), and moving across an ocean and even further away from everything he knows is hardly helping, which is why his new therapist suggested he get a pet. An emotional support pet, he thinks they’re called. Something for Hermann to look after and have as his companion so he doesn’t spend every moment he’s not lecturing at the nearby university staring out his bedroom window at the ice and the frost and the snow and contemplating his own existence and the aforementioned aching loneliness.

So Hermann got a cat. It was either that, or try to make friends, and he’s never been good at making friends either.

It’s a nice little cat, a small grey-and-white tabby, and Hermann took a shine to it immediately at the local humane society when it peered through the cage at him with big brown eyes and mewed. If Hermann were another man, he might say he took a shine to it because it was cute.

It’s a clever cat, and fairly easy to co-habitat with, too. Hermann feeds it twice a day (morning, before lecturing, and evening, after lecturing) and buys it a scratching post and toys so it doesn’t ruin his furniture. In return, the little cat sometimes curls up on his lap as he grades assignments and on the great empty space in Hermann’s bed every night when Hermann lays down to sleep. Often it will lick Hermann’s hand, as if it’s trying to groom him, or present its plush mouse toys to Hermann as gifts in return for a head scratch. Hermann’s rather fond of it, to his immense surprise. He thinks it’s fond of him.

It’s why he’s near frantic now. He had his front door propped open for a single moment--just long enough to balance his cane with his grocery bags--and his cat took the chance and bolted past him down the hallway. By the time Hermann gathered his bearings and tore after it, it was completely gone. No way of telling where it may be, whether it ran up or down the staircase, whether it ducked into the elevator with another renter, whether it’s even still in the complex.

Hermann didn’t even name the bloody thing yet. How is he supposed to call for it?

He heats up a miserable dinner of leftover pasta and considers what to do next. His cat hasn’t a name, but it does have a collar with Hermann’s cellular number and name on it (suggested by the humane society, and Hermann, ever paranoid, was all too happy to go along with it). If someone finds his cat, they’ll surely call him. He hopes.

There are no phone calls through dinner. Hermann is too worried to grade the stack of assignments cluttering up his kitchen table and spends the evening staring out the window at the ice, and the frost, and the snow...

His cell phone rings; Hermann answers it immediately. “Hello?” he says.

“Uh, Hermann Gottlieb?” someone says.

“Yes,” Hermann says. “Yes, that’s me. Hello.”

“I think I found your cat.”

Newton, as the man on the other end of the phone introduces himself, lives a mere two floors below Hermann (Hermann is out the door and in the elevator before he’s even hung up) and found Hermann’s cat wandering the ground floor when he came home from work. Also at Hermann’s university, to Hermann’s surprise, but biology. (Newton is very talkative; he learns a lot aout him very, very quickly.) He hadn’t even meant to take it home, he explains, it just sort of...followed him.

“Maybe he smelled my cat on me,” he laughs, once he’s shown a still-frantic Hermann into his flat. It’s messy and a little cramped, with coffee mugs and open textbooks and half-finished crochet projects strewn about, movie posters and anatomical diagrams and sketches of plants plastered up all over the (lime green) walls. Messy and cramped, and somehow immensely, and strangely, appealing.

Newton himself is strangely appealing, too. He’s about Hermann’s age, short and scruffy, with tattoos and pierced ears and thick glasses, but he smiles brilliantly at Hermann, touches his shoulder and back companionably as he steers him into his sitting room, has a loud laugh that makes Hermann feel warm and pleasant.

(Newton, Hermann admits to himself, is also cute.)

“This your little guy?” Newton says, picking up Hermann’s cat from his dingy couch. He scratches behind its ears, and it starts purring and nuzzling Newton’s chest immediately.

It is, indeed, Hermann’s grey and white tabby cat. “That’s him,” Hermann sighs. “I really am sorry about this.”

Newton smiles. “It’s fine, dude. He and my cat were chilling.” He nods back to the couch, where a fat orange and white cat is chewing on one of the tassels of Newton’s pillows. Hermann almost hadn’t seen it. “He’s such a dumbass,” Newton says, looking at the fat cat fondly, and then turns his smile on Hermann again. “Anyway, wanna stay for a bit?”

Hermann blinks in mild bewilderment. “Stay?” he says.

Newton has not stopped scratching Hermann’s cat behind the ears. “I just made a pot of coffee,” he says. “I have beer, too. Or,” he starts talking faster, clearly embarrassed, “you can just go if you want, obviously, sorry, you don’t have to--”

“I’d like coffee,” Hermann says. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Ha! Cool!” Newton says. “Lemme--” He thrusts Hermann’s cat back at him. “Get comfortable. I’ll be right back. Half and half? Sugar? Coffee, I mean, how do you want it?”

“Black,” Hermann says, holding his purring cat with one hand. “No sugar.”

Newton shoots him two thumbs up and scurries off into his kitchen, and Hermann eases himself down onto the sofa next to the fat orange cat. “What an odd little man,” he says to it. It blinks at him, then continues chewing on the pillow happily.

Hermann can’t seem to stop smiling. He catches sight of the window (nearly obscured by gaudy curtains and window gel clings that are five holidays out of season), and--for the first time in weeks--can’t seem to bring himself to care about the dreary grey winter, either.

Hermann leaves Newton’s flat two hours later, warm, happy, his cat tucked under his arm and Newton’s cell phone number (signed with a long string of x’s and o’s) tucked into his shirt pocket, a dinner date looming on his horizon.

(He moves in with Newton a year later.)

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #brought to u by my winter depression and my fat orange cat sitting next to me as i type #intellectualpencil

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prettyfunkyunorganized · 6 years

Text

Sugar Daddy Hanzo part 10

Good evening everyone! Or whatever time of day it is where you are. I’ve got another chapter for you today, but first a few announcement-y things:

1. Just moved and started grad school so I’m busy AF, so if chapters continue to be a bit shorter than they were at the beginning, that’s why.

2. I am starting up a new tag on my blog that will be side info about this story - stuff written from Hanzo’s POV, fun facts, ideas I’m considering, and questions for you! You can always submit questions too via the ask feature on Tumblr or you can use the tag #sugardaddyhanzoextras (sugar daddy hanzo extras). That is the tag I will be using for all this type of content and if you would like to be tagged, feel free to let me know!

3. I love you.

So yeah, that’s it! Here are 2,800ish words of mush essentially.

BTW, this whole business world AU is based on my bud @watch-your-grammer‘s post here. She’s glorious and so is her work.

The rest of the story: pt one, pt two, pt three, pt four, pt five, pt six, pt seven, part eight, part nine

Waking up had never been so difficult. Your eyelids dragged, almost impossibly heavy, but not nearly as stiff as your arms. Every shallow, tentative breath was a struggle, and your chest ached with each inhale. Each exhale. You looked around the brightly lit room and frowned. “Guess we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” you grumbled to yourself, “or maybe I’m the witch – certainly feel like I’ve been hit with a house.”

By some odd circumstance, it looked like you had the room to yourself, the bed to your right was folded up tight with precise corners as starkly white as the walls and ceiling above you. Everything was so . . . sterile, as if you had been transported to your very own dimension, removed from the rest of Earth. It was unsettling.

And sad.

Your chest tightened in a familiar way that had nothing to do with your injury, it was a painful manifestation of your growing disappointment and loneliness.

“You’d think the gals would at least come by to see me,” you whispered as tears welled in your eyes, “and if getting shot isn’t enough to get Mom and Dad to come visit me, what is?”

In a burst of realization, you remembered what had happened and put a hand over your breast, a powerful tenderness warning you to be gentle.

“Holy fuck I got shot,” you gulped looking for the nurse call button and slamming it while trying to tame your breathing.

After a brief pause that seemed to last ages, a nurse swung open your door and scuttled in, but not before you saw what looked like a dark suit a dark expressing in the hallway.

“Well, hello there,” the tall man in scrubs said with a smile. The bright corgi pattern on his shirt relaxed you for some reason, maybe it was because that was the first bit of color you had seen since you awoke.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“You look scared,” he murmured kindly, “don’t be. We got you all patched up, and you’re going to be fine.”

“Oh thank goodness,” you sighed, running your hands over your face. Of course you knew that you were alive, but hearing a nurse say ‘you’re not dying’ still made you feel a thousand times better.

“Do you remember what happened,” he asked. You nodded. “Good. And how are you feeling?”

“Uh,” you hesitated, “pretty shitty? But not dead so, I could be worse?”

He chuckled, “Very true. Feeling sore in your chest, right?”

“Oh yeah,” you groaned.

“We will get you something to help with that and check over your bandages here in a sec, I just want to tell you what we’ve done on our end if you’re feeling up to that.”

“Sure,” you nodded, trying to glance out the window so you could figure out if what you had seen was what you were desperately hoping to see. Then again, it was a hospital, and there were likely hundreds of patients here with worried family.

And Hanzo wasn’t family.

And he hadn’t taken you back.

And the nurse in all his corgi covered glory was in your way.

“Alright,” he said looking at the digital display on his arm, “you were brought in with a bullet wound in the chest, it went right through you, but went through your lung.”

“My lung,” you gaped in horror.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “that is what caused you so much trouble, but medicine has come a long way, and we were able to have your stem cells from your baby teeth flown in and have started growing you some new lung tissue. We had to do one surgery to keep you alive, so your left lung is currently dormant, and your right is doing all the work, which is probably why you’re likely feeling a little like you’ve been running a lot and haven’t quite caught your breath. Once your new tissue is ready, we will get you into the OR again have you feeling right as rain before you know it.”

“Wait,” you said reeling at what he’d just said. You knew your baby teeth could provide stem cells for fancy medical stuff, but patching up your lung? “So . . . you’re going to be able to just cover up the holes in my lung?”

“Yes, ma’am, just like a punctured tire.”

“Ew,” you grimaced at his analogy.

He laughed, “Yeah, sorry. The other nurses say I’ve got a way with words, but I’m not sure if they mean that as a compliment.”

“I mean, it helped me understand,” you shrugged, “but is my lung still going to be able to function normally with a patch? Am I not going to live as long or something because of this?”

“Actually, the procedure has been tested very thoroughly on patients with lung cancer, and there is very little if any loss of functionality. Patients with renewed lungs climb Everest, run marathons, and live long healthy lives – so long as they take care of themselves, that is. If you eat fast food every day or do drugs and die young, you can’t blame that on the new tissue.”

“Of course,” you nodded. “That’s pretty god-damned amazing.”

“It sure is,” he beamed, “the biggest inconvenience is the post-op checkups and drugs to help encourage faster healing, but all that will be finished up in a few months.”

“Good to know,” you sighed, a thin smile forming on your lips.

“Anything else you need right now, or should I start taking a look at you?”

“I – well, actually,” you fumbled, try to lean over and see the window, but you cringed at the pain, “could you just tell me if I have anyone out there waiting to see me? I – I thought I recognized someone.”

“You sure do,” the nurse said with a playful shake of his head, “you’ve had lots of people come in and out to see you, but it’s late at night right now, so the only one here at the moment is the older gentleman in the suit who basically never leaves. Man’s practically a part of the furniture now.”

You grinned so wide your chapped lips hurt, but you couldn’t stop. “Is his name Hanzo? Is he still out there? Will you tell him not to leave yet?”

“Calm down, calm down,” he laughed, backing toward the door, “I’m sure he’s still here, and I’d be happy to tell him you want to speak with him.”

“Thanks,” you said, blushing at your girlish excited outburst.

Without entirely closing the door behind him, the nurse spoke quietly with Hanzo, who had been waiting with an impatient look on his face. The instant you saw him you were relieved. In all honesty, you would have been happy to see anyone you knew out there, but knowing it was him was almost too good to be true.

The nurse came back in and asked you a few more questions while surveying your condition and giving you a bit of pain medication, but ‘not enough to make you all loopy,’ as per your request. Pain meds had always given you the creeps. It was awkward to have a man you’d never met poking your bandaged up boob while the other one laid out in all its glory, but thankfully as soon as you wrapped your hospital gown back up, Hanzo was waved in.

“Hey,” you said as he closed the door behind him. You did your best not to look like a giddy schoolchild, but you were far too happy to be in the same room as him again. Part of your uncontrolled emotion was definitely the drugs, but not all of it. You didn’t care if you shouldn’t be so enraptured to see him, at least not now. You had been shot, you could feel however the fuck you wanted.

“Good evening,” he responded lowly. The distant tone in his voice made you face fall flat, and the physical distance he kept between you made you pull your knees closer to your chest sadly.

“I was, um, well I was kind of surprised to see you here,” you admitted sheepishly.

Hanzo sighed and looked away. “Yes, I probably should not have come, but I felt I had to. That, and I could not find the will or focus to do anything other than sit here and wait for news on your condition.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said softly, “extremely so.”

His lips pursed as his gaze landed on something next to your head. “You are the only one who has been happy to see me here.”

You twisted around as far as you could until your chest muscles griped at you to stop. There was a tiny speaker clipped to the bed frame with a note attached to it. “That sweetie,” you chuckled as you read Lucio’s message:

‘Sorry I couldn’t stick around ‘til you woke up! If I missed another tour date, the bosses were going to have some fried frog legs at their next meeting. Call me THE SECOND you wake up and know that I’m thinking of you. Lots of hugs, your best-est client.’

“He’s always so good to me,” you said shaking your head and the sad frog sketch Lucio had done on the other side of the card.

“I am glad you have found someone that has made you happy,” Hanzo said almost inaudibly, his eyes turned to the ground, bangs in his face as if trying to hide the sour look on his features.

Was he . . . jealous? Clearly you were feeling a little better because the devious part of your mind was suddenly much more awake. No, you shouldn’t be happy that Hanzo was feeling all put out at the fact that you had someone new if your life, but shit! How many people got to see the illustrious Hanzo Shimada practically dripping in envy?

Plus, it meant that maybe – just maybe – you had a chance to have him back.

Maybe it took almost dying to realize that you were willing to give Hanzo another chance, or maybe that bullet had torn right through your resolve, but you knew what you wanted now, and you were ready to admit it. More than that, you were ready to fight for it.

If Hanzo really wanted you to find love with someone else, fine, you understood, but you weren’t going to just walk away. Not again.

“Perhaps I should go,” Hanzo said abruptly, “the nurse assured me that you will be fine and now that I have seen you for myself I believe I am feeling much more assured. Goodbye, and I hope you – ”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you shouted, sitting up and groaning at the way your body protested. You were shot in the chest, so why did your back feel like agony, too?

Hanzo turned back you, looking very unsure of himself. “What is it?”

“You know Lucio is just a friend, right,” you asked.

He scoffed and glowered at the door. “That is not what the tabloids say.”

“Since when do you put stock in the tabloids,” you said giving him a skeptical look.

“There are photos,” he said grimly, crossing his arms and keeping his gaze off you.

“Of what? Me and my friend walking into a party together? We may have been ‘arm in arm’ and all that, but people do that all the time. He’s just a public figure, so everything gets blown out of proportion,” you said matter-of-factly.

“The pictures of him covered in your blood and sobbing as they brought you to the hospital are quite . . . telling,” he insisted.

“Hanzo! I had just been shot! And he’s one of my friends! One of my best friends, in fact. If Gabe were to be gunned down in front of you wouldn’t you be looking a little disheveled?”

His head bobbed as an admittance that you had a point.

“Come here,” you demanded, holding a hand out to him. His body went rigid, and he didn’t move. “Please,” you pouted, beckoning him again.

This time he slowly made his way to you, stopping far enough away that you had to lunge forward a bit to grab his hand and yank him closer. His eyes were wide with surprise, or maybe concern, but fingers curled automatically around yours. You brought his knuckles to your lips and place a gentle kiss on them, the tension in Hanzo’s shoulders floating away, letting his perfect posture slip into a more relaxed stance. You were glad you still had that effect on him. Big oaf needed to pull that stick out of his ass every now and again.

“Lucio means a lot to me, but not the way you do,” you told him in the most earnest tone you could muster. “You’re the only person I want to be with, you’re the one that I wanted with me more than anyone else when I thought I was dying, and you’re the person I most wanted to see when I opened up my eyes in this place.”

“You know,” Hanzo said with a small smile, “you make it very hard to stay away from you.”

He leaned against the rail of your bed and set his palm on your cheek gingerly, you leaned into its warmth. “I guess getting shot has its silver lining.”

“I vehemently disagree,” he barked firmly, “it should not have taken a gunshot to bring us back together. A conversation would have done just as well.”

“Hey, for the record, I tried that,” you retaliated. “That night in your brother’s big fancy bathroom I wanted to talk about it but you – ”

Hanzo silenced you by placing his thumb over your lips, and you giggled, kissing the pad of his finger in delight. Having him this close again was everything you had hoped it would be. “I am sorry for that night,” he said tenderly, “I was only trying to – ”

“Trying to do the right thing,” you finished for him, nodding understandingly. “I know, and I was, too. But I don’t care about what’s ‘right’ anymore. I don’t want to give up on what we could have together, and I know you’re on the way to changing. I’m tired of chasing the ideal of what should happen. I just want to be happy, and you make me happy.”

“My beauty,” he cooed, placing a long kiss on each of your temples, “you make me happy, too.”

“Does that mean you’ll be with me again,” you asked, wriggling closer to him.

“How could I say no,” he chuckled, dancing his fingers along your exposed arm until you shivered, making him grin.

The two of you basked in each other’s presence, but no matter how hard you tried to keep from overthinking things, you had to ask him something.

“Hanzo?”

“Yes?”

“Will I be your sugar baby again or . . . ?”

“I – well – ” he stammered, clearing his throat to buy him time to find an answer.

“The full-fledged relationship idea still freaks you out, doesn’t it,” you asked worriedly.

“Yes,” he huffed frustratedly, “though I do not know why. I know I want to be with you, and I know that I want more than that sort of arrangement with you, but there is something about that word, that step that just . . . fills me with a dread I do not understand.” Hanzo looked down to you, an ashamed expression on. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you said stroking his jawbone, “I don’t mind being your sugar baby again, but I’d like to set down a new set of rules and whatnot.”

“Of course,” he said, sounding relieved, “I believe that would be necessary.”

“But you are still going to your therapist, right?”

“Yes,” he said with a strong nod, “and this is something we have discussed lightly, but, as you know, there is much about me that needs to be . . . dealt with.”

“We’re all a work in progress,” you assured Hanzo, pulling him down so you could kiss him on the nose. The token of affection made his face go a little red, and you burst out laughing. “Good god I missed you and the way you blush, handsome.”

“I am quite convinced that you are the only one who can make me blush,” he grumbled, smirking just a tinge.

“Oh I bet Genji could tell me some fun stories that would make you all flustered,” you teased.

“Just who’s side are you on,” he said with a scowl.

“Mine,” you said brightly, “a girl’s got to put herself first, you know, and that’s what I do.”

“And I adore you for it,” Hanzo hummed, meshing his fingers into yours.

“Don’t worry,” you said, giving him a gentle squeeze, “I’ll always be in your corner, though.”

“A fact that makes me infinitely stronger.”

“I’m glad you realize that,” you said, beaming at his progress, “a couple of months ago I pegged you for the ‘I don’t need anyone’ type.”

“I have since learned a few things, met a few people who have shown me otherwise,” Hanzo said, holding your clasped hands to his heart.

@collinssie @watch-your-grammer @zarcake-writes @yesthisisbae @eebbapanda1@deercapitate @missbumblina @skyrina @justjaaaay@thewetbones@skyelentnight @ilovebva @punk-dork @cbrokeherboobs@sobanoodledragon@sydniesamm @honeyburger @knightofsexyness @queenoflabyrinths@speakingishard @iknowimcutethanks @ninevast @ivymarquis @sydniesamm@barbie-the-centrist @tumblertrash @angle0fthegourd@shaybae1997 @lillypet95 @rusty-potato @tt-nikithakppr

** please let me know if you would like to be tagged or removed from the tags in future updates and sorry if I missed anyone, I feel like tumblr is deleting my shit**

#Overwatch #hanzo #hanzo x reader #sugar daddy hanzo #reader insert #mine #my drabble #overwatch drabble

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thankyoumskobayashi · 5 years

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heres the art i promised to post a while ago. its under a readmore bc i'm going to have a picture and then commentary underneath it. mr. selkie first and then my ultra ocs

ok this was the earliest set of sketches for mr. selkie. i say this bc theres technically one earlier sketch for him in my sock drawer tjat was even worse so you will be forever left wondering. anyways for this set, i drew left to right so you will see my thought process to combine the crown and seashell. i originally thought he was wearing sunglasses like those shitty aviator ones. the last one was a unicorn bc for a moment i thought selkie meant narwhal. still, i'm very proud of that horn even if it wont make it to the final design.

heres the next page of sketches. just to get a feel for mr selkie's proportions i sketched patrice on the back of this piece of paper and he doesn't look too bad.

i like this one bc he has chest and shoulder armor that looks good, along with some accents which complement his figure. i also decided to try a different design for his glasses(?) sorta thigy, almost like a hockey mask with the lines. but at least its better than the cursed sketches i did near the bottom.

these are the cursed sketches near the bottom btw. the one on the left was based on a walrus and the one on the right was based on a seal. maybe if i go the evil döppelganger route for one arc i will use them again.

these are the two beside them, when i was trying to get a feel for possible crown designs and how the lines on the glasses should work. the one on the left is a blatant kuuga ripoff

this is where i perfected the side-profile of the glasses, and tried to add the crown which i practiced twice below.

this was the first crown design i tried, and looked up the selke cup to steal some of the fancy whoops and shells from it. i was like "oh a selke crown gotta base it off the real thing" and this was my first draft.

this one's the more refined version, though i didnt add as much detail as i could have. i was torn between having seashells on the end and round jewels, so i put one on each side to see what looked better.

heres it, but tiny and on a really-fucked up seal eyes design. stare into his soulless eyes, they will take you to the abyss.

last for this side of the page i decided to try some renaissance painting like sketch but i havent seen enough of them so its Like This. the circle is a halo bc it was meant to be like a renaissance painting.

bonus sketch on the back based on a pic i looked up to base this on. despite his okay proportions here i didnt always manage to replicate them on the reverse of the page.

okay, thats it for mr. selkie designs. on to the ultras!

this one was my first one, and the eyes Miiiiiight have been based a lil on Venom... the body (save for the diamond on this ultras chest) is black, but the shaded parts are orange. this one is the only one i thought up a color scheme for. the ultras sketches were bc i opened up a google doc called "rejected ultra ideas" which is where i listed out all the concepts for ultra characters which i thought would be immediately shut down in tsupro's board room. anyways, i used to have an "orange ultra" on there but since ultrawoman grigio is now canon i had to change that. so then i decided to sketch this ultra based on a monarch butterfly. for the rest of them, i used random number generator to get the prompts which inspired these.

next from my rejected ultra ideas doc was "ultra whose power comes from their shoulder pads" except i decided to draw an ultra whose a magical girl instead. what gorgeous shin armor! i dont know how to draw fancy clothes so you will just have to suffer with me on this

lastly, here is "ultra with anime eyes. theyre a regular ultra, but with anime eyes." this one doesn't have sluggers so they look kinda plain. i didn't know what to do for this ultra's accents or shoulder armor so i just made stuff up. i like to think this ultra tries to keep a deadpan expression.

#my art #long post

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