#to finish out the wip posts is blurred lines part 2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rocket-bear · 3 years

Text

shinsena ghost fic outline

SO. on my last list of shinsena fic ideas I had written "shinsena ghost AU (yes, like the patrick swayze movie) but with an actually happy ending". I have decided that I'm not actually going to write this fic because 1) it would take forever and I have other ones that are bigger priorities for me and 2) the inspiration for it was really the MOUNTAIN of IT fix-it fics I was reading in early 2020 because I was Going Through It where I then shunted that inspiration over into a fandom I was actually comfortable writing for, and at this point I have moved past that stage and no longer need the catharsis,

BUT! I do really like the bits that I did already write for it, and I still love the idea, so I'm just going to go ahead and post the WIP bits that I did get finished, and then flesh out what the rest of my plan was after!

The fic takes place in Sena's second year of college! It's a ghostfic so, y'know, warning for major character death and copious discussion of grief, haha, but it gets better!!! Also, in addition to ShinSena there's BG mentions of HiruMamo in both the fic excerpts and bulletpoints for the rest of the planned plot. Text below the cut is about 6k words!

---------

"Aw, beans," is the first thing Sena hears after he dies.

He doesn't really process it in the moment, too busy blinking up at the bright, unclouded sun and distantly noticing that it doesn't hurt his eyes. He sits up, running through the last few moments in his mind-- a bouncy ball dotted with pink flowers, skipping merrily over the sidewalk into the street, a girl in her school smock tottering on chubby legs after it, a car unavoidably close, his view of everything blurring as he throws himself forward without even thinking about it--

Oh.

"EHHHH," he shrieks, and scrambles away from his body, and it doesn't come with him.

"I'm going to be in ;so much trouble," that voice says again, and Sena whips around because it's the only thing he can actually hear clearly, even though he's pretty sure he should be able to hear-- the other people around him, looking at his body without looking at him, everyone unharmed but most of them in tears, and he doesn't want to think about that.

So he looks, and sees-- something. It almost looks like an afterimage, at first, the kind of light-dark luminescent spots your eyes put up when you look away from a light you've been staring at too long, but it stays put as Sena stares at it, a kind of void of shifting light just stamped in the way of his view of the bushes lining the sidewalk.

"Um," he says, and the Thing kind of goes more dark-light than light-dark for a moment as it… sighs?

"Yeah, sorry, you're not getting me at my best, this wasn't supposed to happen," it says, and Sena feels like he would be hyperventilating if he had lungs, but he doesn't anymore.

"No, listen," the Thing says, and it starts to get bigger, which Sena belatedly realizes is because it's moved closer to him. With the way it doesn't actually seem to take up space, it's hard to tell. "Let's move away from here, okay? It's going to be hard for you to listen with all this going on."

And, well-- Sena casts a glance back behind him, to the people with their hands over their mouths and tears in their eyes and the pointless things they're doing to his body to try to bring him back to it, and he scrambles up to his feet and follows the thing.

"Okay, here goes," the Thing says as they move further away from the-- the scene, and then its voice changes. "Fear not, mortal, for your time on this plane has elapsed, and you have accomplished all that you were intended for. Your current form--"

"Wait," Sena says, fighting against the mesmerizing effect of the Thing's shifting lights in combination with its new, multilayered voice, high and low at once but somehow soothing. "I thought you said this wasn't supposed to happen??"

"Well, okay, yeah," the Thing says, its voice reedy and thin once more. "Your time actually isn't supposed to be up, but-- okay, did you know you're like, really fast? Like crazy fast. I was just supposed to nudge the driver once they stopped the car in time, you know, typical near-death experience stuff, but you jumped right through me before I was in place."

"You kill people by touching them?!" Sena skitters away from the Thing, and gets the distinct impression that the silvery flush it pulses in response is decidedly unimpressed.

"I can't kill you again," it says. "And we don't kill things, anyway. We just… mark them as finished. I got you out of the oven too soon, that's all."

That sounds a lot like it was only different from killing things in terms of word choice to Sena, but he doesn't say so.

"C-can-- can we fix it?" He asks instead, the first shards of ice-cold realization sinking in at last. He's dead. He's dead?

The Thing flares sigh-dark, and says, "You know this kind of thing has only happened like, four times before? Ever! Since the dawn of humanity! It's been like 20,000 years since the last time! I don't know off the top of my head, kid, I'm gonna have to look it up."

"Then-- there's a chance? How long will that take? What if-- I mean-- they're gonna take me to the hospital--"

The ice shards sink further into his body, but the Thing's voice is dismissive.

"If there's a way, that's not the body you're going to be coming back to; there's no way we're gonna be able to do this without rolling back the clock. So don't worry about the morgue, okay?"

Which-- was a relief, but Sena feels an empty sensation at the word "morgue" that he's pretty sure would have been nausea if he had a working stomach left to experience it.

Some of that must show on his face because the Thing comes to an abrupt stop, and its voice is more gentle as it says, "Okay, gameplan. If there's a way to get you back, it's gonna have something to do with the energy left over from your presence among the living. So go see your friends and family and see what you can figure out. Right now, you're a ghost, so there's got to be some way to tap into that energy."

Sena nods a little numbly at first, working on auto-pilot, and then nods more firmly as he actually processes the Thing's words. A plan! That means-- there's something he can actually do, while the Thing goes to-- "look it up." That's good! A plan!

And then, the Thing goes yellowish, and its tone turns apologetic.

"And… Speaking of ghost stuff, I didn't get to finish this part before. Your current form will let you move around this plane to visit your loved ones and grant yourself any closure you desire, but you won't be able to interact with the living world, and if we're not able to fix this in time-- when the time comes, you'll have to make a choice. Move on completely to the next plane, or stay here with your loved ones until there are none left who remember you."

Sena blinks, going still, and the Thing glows even more yellow.

"So we've got about [a month] to figure this thing out. I'll do what I can, kid. You hang tight."

And then it's gone, and Sena is left alone on the sidewalk.

He does all that he can do, and goes to find Mamori.

------

He doesn't think through the consequences of that until he gets to her apartment and finds her in tears and Hiruma on the phone, calling them an escort to the hospital. Every awful minute of that first day feels like nothing more than a smear in Sena's memory by the time his funeral comes around. He spends the time in-between trying his best to do something, anything, that will let his friends and parents know that he's still there. He does his absolute best to go full Hollywood Haunting on everyone he knows, trying to knock over pictures or rattle windows or flick lights on and off, but nothing works. Every once in a while, when he's flopped beside Mamori on the floor as she goes through photo albums, he almost thinks she hears him as he talks about the photos she's flipping through-- but it always just ends up being a fresh round of quiet tears that brings Hiruma over to her side.

The funeral seems to be no different. He'd hoped, somehow, that maybe having so many loved ones gathered in one place to think about him would somehow give him the energy to make himself solid-- and there are so many people there, not just Sena's family and closest friends, but people from nearly every team in the Tokyo American football community, some of them who he only ever remembered seeing across the field.

All of the original Devil Bats are there, of course. Kurita sobs his way through the service. The Ha-Ha Brothers stand stony-faced, and Juumonji scrubs a rough hand across his eyes, but Sena never sees any tears. Suzuna clings to Monta's arm as they both cry openly with Riku in the row behind Sena's parents, Mamori, and Hiruma.

His parents cry. Mamori seems too exhausted to, just sitting quietly and taking in the service with bruised red eyes. Hiruma puts his arm around her shoulder at one point, and Sena finds himself surprised by how much tenderness he's seen between them in the last few days. Hiruma had handled almost all of the arrangements, actually-- Mamori and Sena's parents making the decisions, and Hiruma diligently rising from each discussion to make the appropriate phone calls.

In the middle rows, Sena finds himself looking at Shin and Sakuraba. He shouldn't have been surprised to see them-- and he really wasn't, not really, he knew he would be devastated and would definitely show up if the situation was reversed-- but something on Shin's face startles him into looking again.

He looks tired. Sena doesn't think he's ever seen Shin tired, before, not even after playing full-out through an entire game, not even after the most intensive of training. But Shin's face is undeniably drawn, and the skin underneath his eyes is bruise-dark.

Sakuraba tears up, and Shin doesn't, but it's Sakuraba who lays a comforting hand on Shin's shoulder. [UNFINISHED SCENE-- also I had intended to go back and make this scene more accurately reflect Japanese (vs Western) funeral traditions but have not done that since, I'm not finishing the fic]

----------

He finds himself seeking out one of his and Shin's old training routes from high school, when they lived close enough that it made sense to share. It's been years since he ran this route, but it makes sense, he figures, that he would be revisiting old memories like this. It was a good route, anyway-- at one point it ran alongside the river, and Sena remembers reaching it on hot summer days, and noticing that even Shin tipped his face into the breeze when the sun was really beating down.

He walks along the path at first, but before long finds himself jogging, the force of memory and habit alike drawing him into those quick strides. It doesn't feel the same without the sensation of the wind on his face, or the heat of the sun on his body, or even the sweat beading up stickily between his skin and his clothes, but it's something.

Without fatigue or fear of obstacles to keep him vigilant, Sena finds himself startled before too long by the sound of steady footfalls coming up behind him. He automatically shifts his path to make way-- though it doesn't matter much now, he thinks with a frown-- and looks up as the lone jogger makes to pass him.

It's Shin.

Sena's not-heart squeezes painfully at seeing him unexpectedly, and Sena gapes.

"Shin-san--" He gasps, and of course Shin doesn't respond or look his way. Sena swallows the painful reminder and adjusts his pace to match Shin's.

They run together, and of course it's quiet, because Shin doesn't know that he has company. Not that companionable silence was atypical for their runs together before-- running was for focusing on technique, including breathing, so they would save the chatting for before and after.

Sena wonders if Shin had kept to running this path all along-- he was so sure that they'd both abandoned it when they'd made their way to university. Or at least, Shin had apologetically told him so, when he'd moved on to Oujou University and Sena was still in his third year at Deimon.

Maybe Shin's feeling nostalgic too, Sena thinks, and then shakes his head. He doesn't want to be sad, and it's nice to have Shin at his side, even if Shin doesn't know he's there.

He tries to sink into the feeling of running. It's still hard-- he can't feel much of anything, after all-- but with Shin there, it's a little easier to fall into old memories and let those guide him. He can pretend-- to feel the gentle breeze off the river cooling the sweat on his face, to feel the push of the sidewalk under his feet launching him into his next step, to feel how the sun is hotter on his back and shoulders than anywhere else as it crawls its way up the sky.

It almost feels like normal, finding that rhythm alongside Shin that has their steps striking the pavement in tandem, Sena's extra stride to make up for their heights a little accented half-note; that peaceful, focused haze that has them inhaling and exhaling in synch. It's so perfectly familiar that Sena can almost imagine a lump rising in his throat and the sting of tears in his eyes, nearly overcome with the twin sensations of having and loss--

--when Shin startles hard beside him and skids to a stop, with a gasp that has Sena's blood running cold before he even looks back for him, the image of the oncoming truck flashing through his mind.

But there's no truck here, of course. They're on a running trail, on a totally separate level than the road, but it's obvious enough what drew that terrifying, uncharacteristic noise from Shin's lungs when Sena looks back, and his eyes meet Shin's.

Shin sees him.

[UNFINISHED SCENE, this is the last of the actual fic that I wrote!]

---------

FROM THERE here was the plan:

- Shin being able to see him only lasts a split second. Shin's super shaken and keeps looking around and rubbing his eyes for a couple moments, and then he turns around and walks back to the train, and Sena-- thinking, like, "holy shit, Shin never skips training"-- follows him back, because even though it's super heart-breaking seeing Shin so shaken up it's also the closest he's gotten to making any progress the whole time

- Shin gets back to his dorm and just like. sits down at his table with his head in his hands. Sena's motivation to keep trying to get his attention kind of dries up so he pokes around Shin's dorm room instead and notices, like. a bunch of half-eaten meals/snacks in the trash, "Practice" scratched out on his calendar for the next few weeks, unmade bed, evidence that Shin's only really gotten dressed to go out jogging over the last few days and is only wearing his pajamas otherwise-- he's just not doing good.

- Just as Sena's like, really starting to grasp this, Sakuraba shows up at the door-- Shin gets up to answer the door with his back to Sena and like, whatever Sakuraba sees on Shin's face just stops him in his tracks and he immediately pulls Shin into a hug, which Sena is kind of shocked to see that Shin totally sinks into

- Sakuraba sits down with Shin at the table and they talk. Shin admits that he thought he saw Sena while he was jogging, and both of them are just brushing it off as like, a grief-induced sensory memory, stuff like that happens, etc. Sakuraba comforts him and encourages Shin to take it easy, it's okay to take time off of even his own personal training, it's okay if he needs more time, and also like fusses about Shin not getting enough to eat especially if he IS going to keep training

- Sena meanwhile is like, feeling awful with guilt but also just kind of overwhelmed with the realization of how important he was to Shin, and this is where I would've like, laid the groundwork for how they'd gotten closer during the rest of high school/early college but Sena still never rrreally understood how much Shin cared about him because 1) he's got self-esteem issues baybee, and 2) Shin is not exactly, like, super forthright about his feelings,

- but, while Sena DOES feel awful about how much Shin was shaken up about seeing him, it's the only thread he can think of to pull on to try and bring himself back, and he ALSO feels guilty about having to watch everyone grieve for him, so, well,

- he starts haunting Shin!! Shin does not listen to his good and helpful friend Sakuraba and goes jogging again the next day, but it's obvious that he's still feeling Off and he's having a hard time getting into a rhythm, and Sena isn't able to tap into ~whatever it was~ that made him visible the previous time and is feeling super defeated about it, UNTIL,

- Shin takes a break at the midpoint of his normal route, which is a thing Sena knows he does not generally do from their own training together, and is basically just slumped over on a bench with his head in his hands again and Sena's also feeling awful and helpless and does the same thing,

- and then Shin tenses up beside him, his breath getting shallow, and Sena notices and tentatively calls out to him. Shin slowly, slowly looks up, and they make eye contact for just a second again, before Sena can tell he's not visible anymore because Shin's eyes kind of unfocus and he looks away, and just gets up and goes home.

- This kind of refreshes Sena's determination, and over the next few days (IT WAS GONNA DEPEND ON HOW LONG I WANTED TO TORTURE SHIN) they repeat the same pattern, with Sena going on Shin's jogs with him and occasionally achieving small flashes of visibility(/audibility, though Sena isn't ever able to get out anything helpful before the universe mutes him again) which Shin seems to be determined to just brush off as grief illusions even as he gets more and more tense each time

- Until finally as they're jogging, Shin sort of tersely asks "Are you there?" and instead of saying anything Sena just tries to barrel into him for a hug because clearly auditory-visual haunting only isn't WORKING and we've gotta get some TACTILE FEEDBACK in here,

- and it works. He knocks Shin off of his stride, and Shin grabs for him in turn, and there's a moment where they both stare at each other in total shock and relief before Sena starts trying to frantically tell Shin the whole story and disappears out of his arms like, three words in.

- Shin has a little tiny mental breakdown in the middle of the sidewalk where he cycles from devastation at Sena disappearing again to trying to pull himself together like, "okay if this is real then this isn't my last chance because it's happened a lot over the past few days" to a kind of giddy catharsis because it's real Sena's really here to kind of shutting down over the idea that maybe it's STILL not real and he's just going REALLY crazy to actually pulling himself back together and going to find a bench to sit down on, and just like,

- talking things out, out loud, in hopes that Sena can hear him. He can only see Sena when they're running, which is something they used to do together, so maybe recreating old memories is what triggers it. He's noticed that even when running, he usually sees Sena in moments when he's feeling least conflicted/emotionally complex-- either pure grief or pure nostalgia or pure just-zoning-out-running, not as much when he's really struggling to process and has a lot going on internally at once. Maybe the stability of the emotion is part of it.

- Sena meanwhile is having his own meltdown from sheer overwhelming relief over FINALLY FINALLY making contact and Shin FINALLY FINALLY believing he's there and also just like making hearteyes at Shin for immediately going into full methodical Ghost Scientist mode after getting his own meltdown over and done with

- speaking of going full Ghost Scientist, Shin announces his intention to do exactly that by saying he's heading back to his and Sena's old running trail to test out the "recreating memories" theory right that second, and they head over.

- They jog, and Shin talks out some of his memories with Sena from his own perspective, which is a surprise for Sena because he doesn't even remember some of the things that Shin does and also it lets him actually understand what Shin was thinking in those moments.

- And most importantly: it works. It's not constant, but the longer they practice, the longer they're able to keep Sena in view for longer stretches of time, more of an unsteady flicker than the total off-or-on that it was before. They stay out for a long time (and in the process discover that other people still can't see Sena when Shin can as he continually gets weird looks for talking to thin air) and Shin actually eats a real meal when he finally goes home.

- Sena and Shin keep practicing over the next few days, which makes Sakuraba SUPER concerned because Shin spending hours and hours jogging every day looks like Shin further depression-spiralling from his perspective, but he's somewhat mollified by the fact that Shin's actually getting back to eating and getting dressed etc. normally, even though he's still not going to practice.

- During this time, Sena and Shin bond when they're actually able to communicate. Sena notices that Shin's parents haven't checked in on him even once despite the fact that he just lost a friend, and Shin confirms in one conversation that he basically doesn't have a relationship or emotional connection with his parents at all. (But watch, hang in there, I'm gonna fix it,)

- In the meantime, Shinigami-san tracks Sena back down and they both share what they've learned. Shinigami-san says that Sena has to gather energy from as many of the people he's formed bonds with as possible to chain himself more strongly to life, and gives him a pendant to wear around his neck that will store the energy. When Sena talks about his and Shin's experiments, It says that it makes sense that being emotionally and physically in-sync would help bolster the connection between them to the point where other people would be able to see him, and that if they practice enough they might even be able to just use one or the other (emotional sync or physical sync) without needing both.

- After Sena laboriously relays this to him through flickers, Shin gets a metronome and they both practice tapping their fingers to the rhythm, and they're finally able to see each other at Shin's dorm room vs having to be on a run and actively reminiscing together. They develop a system where when Shin wants/needs to see him, he'll tap his finger against the side of his leg and Sena will do the same thing so they can actually talk.

(- There is at least one moment in the development of this that, when Sena successfully appears in front of him, Shin smiles fondly and very softly says, "There you are," and Sena immediately disappears again because he's so shaken to his disaster bisexual core that he can't even handle it.)

- During this process they find out that Sena's pendant glows when Shin is reminiscing or otherwise talking about his feelings (but not the capital-L feeling) about Sena, which lets them know how to go about "gathering energy" from Sena's friends.

- With the clock counting down on Sena's deadline, Shin starts approaching Sena's friends to "check on them," or, to sit down with them and talk about Sena. It's a little awkwardly sweet on both sides, because no one expects Shin of all people to be making sympathy housecalls and Shin's not very good at talking about feelings, but the conversations are surprisingly genuine and cathartic for all parties (including Shin, who is still processing some weird sideways grief even with his new connection to ghostSena, and Sena, whose self-esteem issues have a hard time standing up under a deluge of people talking about how much they cared about and miss him), PARTICULARLY:

- Monta and Suzuna, where the reminiscing works a little too well and they actually see a flicker of Sena sitting at Shin's side during the conversation and freak out. Shin immediately changes tacks and tells them that Sena is there and that he's trying to bring Sena back and he needs their help, and at first this makes them freak out more because what the fuck but by virtue of Shin being… Seijuurou "Overly-Serious-Stoic-Never-Overreacted-In-His-Life" Shin, he convinces them to try the tapping technique to bring Sena back into view.

- Sena has Shin describe a memory involving the three of them while they tap along to Shin's rhythm, and the combination of reminiscing and tapping works well enough that they're able to get frequent enough flickers of Sena to believe Shin. Yes, they do get a least one good long group hug out of the flickers, I'm not a monster.

- Shin still has to do most of the communication for Sena because it would take a lot of practice for the Sena-Monta-Suzuna combo to get enough in-sync to be able to communicate effectively, but he explains the whole situation and all the information they've gotten from Shinigami-san. They decide that it still makes the most sense for Shin to field the energy-gathering housecalls for the same communication-based reasons-- Sena can guide Shin through the conversations by suggesting memories to bring up with his friends-- but all the same, Shin suddenly finds himself with two tiny new best friends who want to hang out with him all the time. (And not even just to talk to Sena! Suzuna and Monta become pretty attached to and curious about Shin after he shows them more of his vulnerable side in the conversation leading up to the point where they actually see Sena themselves.)

- I was going to go through little flashes of Shin's conversations with a lot of Sena's friends across the football world, but the other Big One was going to be Mamori, of course. (And a little bit of Hiruma, who refuses to sit down for an Emotional Conversation with fucking Shin, but will gladly peanut-gallery Mamori's out of his own repressed desire for catharsis and also to make sure with guns loaded that Shin doesn't fuck up the fragile acceptance Mamori's been building since Sena's death.)

- Having learned from the experience with Suzuna and Monta, Sena wisely sits out of view during the conversation because he actually doesn't want to put Mamori through the rollercoaster of seeing him again, especially if his and Shin's efforts fail.

- Shin does not fuck up his conversation with Mamori and so Hiruma doesn't have to murder him! It's actually the most honest-- and healing-- conversation he has with anyone. Mamori finds herself feeling very fond of Shin, who she didn't know was so close with Sena and could be so supportive and empathetic under all that stoic strength, and Shin finds himself immediately adopted by another one of Sena's loved ones.

(- In their conversation, Mamori also mentions that just after Sena passed she kept finding herself thinking she heard Sena's voice, because that seed in the actually-written bit above was in fact foreshadowing ohoho.)

- I was not going to Go Into It because not even I have the strength, but to continue the theme of Shin finding a new family via his bond with Sena, there was going to be a brief scene referencing that Shin's visit with Sena's parents went much the same, with the addition that Shin was surprised Sena's parents already knew so much about him (because as it turns out Sena talked about him FREQUENTLY.)

(- Also within the housecalls there's a comedy scene where Shin makes Sena solid just long enough for Sena to log Shin in on Skype so he can talk to Panther without sacrificing a computer, and they discover that international friendship energy gathering does in fact work.)

- AND THEN: SAKURABA. The fic would switch to Shin's POV from here! In Shin's energy-gathering conversation with Sakuraba, things are going well at first, with Sakuraba reminiscing about Sena and then turning the conversation toward Shin himself to talk about how he's noticed Shin's seeming a lot more steady and like he's been doing some real healing lately. Shin obviously does not explain the ghostSena situation, but does honestly say that his conversations with Sena's other friends have helped him process his feelings a lot. And Sakuraba, being a supportive friend, very gently says that he's proud of Shin for reaching out, and for doing so well when he's going through something so hard, because he can't imagine losing the person he was in love with.

- Shin freezes up, and Sakuraba tries to reassure him that it's okay, he's known for a long time, he's so sorry that Shin never got to actually process those feelings with Sena, and Shin doesn't have to talk about it but if he ever wants to Sakuraba's there for him-- and Shin very stiltedly deflects the whole conversation because he doesn't want to totally shut Sakuraba down when he's just trying to be supportive but also Sena is right there

- After finally, awkwardly shooing Sakuraba out the door, Shin sits back down and tries to Talk About It with Sena, but he's so emotionally frazzled that he's not able to get a stable connection. Since they can't have a two-way conversation, he just launches into apologizing-- he's sorry, he understands if it makes Sena uncomfortable, Sena doesn't need to feel obligated to respond to it and of course Shin is going to help him finish getting what he needs regardless--

- Sena's just RAPIDLY flickering in and out of view, with the time he's not visible getting longer and longer as Shin keeps talking because they are incredibly emotionally out-of-sync, and with Shin only able to tell that Sena looks upset whenever he's able to see him, he makes some Assumptions about Sena's feelings about his accidental confession.

- Things don't get better over the next day or two. They try to do their synchronizing exercises, but even reciting memories doesn't help because Shin is too anxious and ashamed (and sleep-deprived from stress) to connect to them emotionally, which is only compounded because he realizes that Sena's deadline is fast approaching and they won't be able to finish in time if he can't get his shit together but that anxiety Does Not Help with relaxing enough to synchronize when he's spiralling over the thought of losing Sena again because of something that he "did".

- Finally, Sena apparently gets desperate and snatches up the metronome during one of the moments when he's solid for just long enough to do it.

- Shin doesn't see him for a while after that, and assumes (correctly) that Sena has taken the metronome with him to try and sync with Monta and/or Suzuna instead, and also assumes (incorrectly) that this is because Sena is extremely disappointed with him at best and totally hates him at worst, and that either way Sena probably doesn't want much to do with him anymore even if he is able to be brought back.

- He spirals for like, A Day, after which he does in fact break and go to tear up very stoically on Sakuraba about how yes he was (is) in love with Sena and it hurts him that he'll never get to express that properly (now that Sena wants nothing to do with him) and how he feels like he let himself (and Sena) down by not being able to act on that earlier (when it wasn't a literal life-or-death situation) and how maybe he's just not cut out for emotions and connections with other people actually, just look at even his relationship with his parents???

- Sakuraba comforts him and very gently tells him he's being a catastrophizing dingus and shows him, like, a mountain of texts on his phone not ONLY from concerned fellow Oujous, but also from a bunch of the people that Shin's talked to about Sena over the last few weeks, all of them expressing the general sentiment of "wow I was super surprised when Shin came around to talk to me about Sena but I'm so glad he did, it looks like he's doing well, keep an eye on him for me" in varying levels of transparency because after all they are Manly Footballers, but regardless: look at that, Shin is actually perfectly capable of forming relationships with other people, and they like and care about him.

- This results in some decidedly less stoic tears, and Sakuraba and Shin successfully patch things up after their previous awkward discussion about Shin's feelings for Sena. When Shin leaves he immediately heads for Enma to try and find Monta, because even if Sena and his friends don't want to see him he absolutely can't just shrug and sit back and just wait to see if they manage to save him.

- When he's like halfway there, he comes across Monta and Suzuna heading in his direction, and they cut off his questions by just being like NOPE SHUT UP COME WITH US and dragging him over to like, a park gazebo for some semi-privacy.

- Suzuna gets the metronome out of her bag and sets it on the park table and turns it on. Monta pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and starts reading.

- It turns out that after he left Shin's, Sena ghosted up into Monta's room and just plopped the suddenly-appearing metronome down on Monta's desk, scaring the shit out of him but also giving a very clear signal of WE NEED TO TALK. Monta called up Suzuna and the three of them had spent the last day and a half working on synchronizing non-stop, and while they still aren't nearly as good as Shin and Sena had gotten with weeks' worth of practice, they got far enough along that Sena was able to have them slowly write out some of his memories with Shin, this time from his perspective, through the unsteady connection.

- Suzuna and Monta take turns yanking the paper back and forth between them to read out the description of Sena and Shin's memories, and with Shin tapping along to the metronome, he's able to see Sena more and more clearly over time until he's solid more often than not.

- As it becomes increasingly clear, even to Shin, that these specific memories Sena has chosen to share are a record of him coming to realize his feelings for Shin, Sena is eventually able to take Shin's hands and hold them without disappearing, tapping not needed. He interrupts Suzuna and Monta to try to finish off the confession himself: Shin didn't need to be scared when Sena found out about his feelings, because--

- Absolutely overwhelmed by everything about the last 36 hours and having no ability to process any of it in words ANYMORE but moved by the SPIRIT OF COMMUNICATION regardless, Shin gambles on the pretty sure bet that he and Sena are in-sync about this, and kisses him.

- It connects. (And connects, and connects...) Sena's pendant starts to glow brighter and brighter until he's totally enveloped, and--

- Switch back to Sena's POV! He wakes up on the street in front of the truck again, scraped up but otherwise totally unharmed. So are the little girl, who he successfully pushed out of the way, and the driver of the car, who stopped in time regardless. Shinigami-san is also there, and Sena tells It to leave the driver alone because It owes him one, and Shinigami-san congratulates him and tells him that hey hey that was the plan along!! (The onlookers assume that he's confused from the near-accident when he starts talking to thin air.)

- Sena waves off all the concerned onlookers and runs off to find somewhere to sit where he's not going to be gawked at so he can text literally everyone he knows. By the time he finds a bench, he's already gotten HOLY SHIT WE JUST TIME-TRAVELED ARE YOU OKAY??? texts from Monta and Suzuna, which he responds to and incites a flood of emoji-based cheering. Everyone else he texts is politely puzzled by his "are you okay???" message, including Mamori and his parents to his intense relief, except--

- He gets a call from Sakuraba, who sounds very confused as he tells him that Shin wants to talk to him. Sena reassures Shin that he's okay, and tells him to meet him at the park that they left off at, and also that he loves him because he can't restrain himself after not getting to say it before. Shin says it back, and Sakuraba therefore sounds both confused AND delighted when he gets the phone back from Shin to say goodbye.

- Sena texts Suzuna and Monta to meet him at the same place, since it's about halfway between Enma and Oujou, and starts running.

- Shin and Sena, being… Shin and Sena, get there before the other two, and there's so many tears and so much hugging and so many I Love Yous and also some apologies. Monta and Suzuna eventually arrive and there's another round of tears and hugging and I Love Yous, and when everyone is less punchdrunk off of trauma and catharsis, they sit down and figure out that it's only the people that actually saw Sena as a ghost that remember the other timeline.

- With the group understandably not ready to be separated under the circumstances, but also with Sena desperately wanting to see his parents, Mamori and Riku, he comes up with a thin excuse for an impromptu dinner party at his parents' place later in the day (celebrating passing a tough test? beat the Cupids in a football game? national pancake day?? doesn't matter!!!), clears it with them, and invites Mamori+Hiruma and Riku over as well. (Shin lets Sena arrange takeout for everyone on his dime so that Sena's parents won't have to cook for an unplanned dinner party.)

- Fic ends with the group heading toward Sena's parents' house, Shin and Sena holding hands, with Sena feeling content and confident in his relationships as his phone continuously blows up with people responding to his check-in text, and Shin admitting that he's feeling pretty hopeful about the idea of getting to form connections with Sena's family all over again.

END. Thanks for indulging my "I'm too lazy to write this but NOT too lazy to bulletpoint each plot detail beat-by-beat" post, haha!

#shinsena #eyeshield 21 #my fic #kind of!!!

17 notes · View notes

fortysevenswrites · 2 years

Text

I posted 12,491 times in 2021

231 posts created (2%)

12260 posts reblogged (98%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 53.1 posts.

I added 358 tags in 2021

#fortysevens rambles - 95 posts

#asked and answered - 82 posts

#fortysevens rewatches fdtd - 68 posts

#summer twenty twenty fun - 20 posts

#life in the den of [redacted] - 17 posts

#fortysevens writes - 17 posts

#like come on - 16 posts

#fortysevens rewatches fringe again - 15 posts

#wandavision spoilers - 14 posts

#i cant even - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#reminds me of that time a guy i may have a tinyyyyyy crush on gave my a cookie the day after we met and my first thought was....damnit

My Top Posts in 2021

Dialouge Prompts: 14: “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” and/or 42: “I’m only here to establish an alibi.” 💕

So, here’s this! One day I won’t keep writing SethKate WIPs that take place immediately after Matanzas, but today is not that day. Enjoy!

And as I was finishing up the One Year After Matanzas section (aka: the actual reason I wrote this fic in the first place), I realized this also technically fills a prompt that @yossariandawn sent me, oh, a million and a half years ago for the line, “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

It just, you know, took me over 10,000 words to get there ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

all those years and lifetimes (read on AO3) Word Count: 12,444 Summary:

“Because I need to know that this is real.”

Kate Fuller and moments from her first day, week, month, and year after Matanzas

One Day After Matanzas

It’s not until Kate rolls over onto the shoulder she hurt while fighting off those zombies and pain flares all the way to her neck that she wakes up on the morning after Matanzas.

Everything that happened after the gate closed comes back to her in fragments. It’s Seth and Richie about to walk off into the sunset after Scott took off in one direction and Kisa and her culebras went in another, before Richie turned back around and told her they weren’t about to leave her behind in the middle of the desert. It’s curling up in the back seat of the car they stashed at the edge of town on the off chance they managed to survive their last-ditch effort to stop Amaru from unleashing hell on Earth. It’s falling asleep with her cheek pressed to the window before they passed Matanzas’ borders.

It’s waking up just enough to be aware of Seth lifting her out of the car and carrying her to the room they’re in now, where she somehow mustered the energy to not just shower without falling asleep and drowning, but also to get dressed before she flopped on the bed in oversized sweats and a t-shirt.

It’s the vague recollection of Seth tending to the wounds on her wrists as she dozed, finally succumbing to the pressures of sleep just as he finished taping down the bandage on the gash on her shoulder. She was on her side while he worked, muttering under his breath all the while about something she didn’t have the energy to pay attention to, just let the sound of his voice wash over her, and it was so easy to just—go to sleep.

So she did.

Rolling off her throbbing arm, Kate settles on her back, taking in the nondescript white of the ceiling while some of the less-than-pleasant memories from yesterday, from the last nine months, from the last two and a half years, come rushing back to her.

Until—

“Hey.”

She turns her head on the pillow, finds Seth sitting next to her with his back to the headboard. His legs are stretched out under the covers and he’s turned away from the tablet resting on his thighs to look at her. All the skin exposed by the white muscle-tank he’s got on is, well, it’s a lot for her half-awake mind, and it’s also absolutely covered in bruises. Even some of the bold lines of his tattoo are blurred by massive, blue-black splotches.

A part of her wonders exactly he went through before he found her in that church.

But the rest of her doesn’t know if she can handle stories from Matanzas right now.

Not yet.

“Hi.”

Read the rest on AO3

39 notes • Posted 2021-10-05 00:03:47 GMT

Who has two thumbs, unexpectedly NO plans tonight, and is going to start re-watching From Dusk Til Dawn?

IT ME!

40 notes • Posted 2021-03-02 02:19:12 GMT

Might this be a two-episode night? PERHAPS (depends on how long it takes me to finish the workbook for the program I’m in.)

But anyway, here we go, screaming about 1x03!

87 notes • Posted 2021-03-06 01:06:39 GMT

All right ramblers, it’s time for Episode 1x02!

Featuring: significantly fewer bathroom references, and our lord and savior, Kate Fuller!

(also featuring, me actually watching this show on a television for the first time.)

93 notes • Posted 2021-03-05 02:31:19 GMT

All right, homework is done! Time to introduce the Fuller Family to the Gecko Brothers.

148 notes • Posted 2021-03-06 04:06:21 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #i mean....screaming about fdtd did take up most of my year #but also like...holy crap i rebagel a lot #this is...pretty much what i expected #but also i feel attacked #especially when it comes to what my longest tag of the year was #biiiiiiig oof

4 notes · View notes

miru667 · 4 years

Note

Do you have any art tips or a step by step on how you color??

Please its ok if you wont

sure, i can give a tiny bit of insight on how i colour. Under the readmore:

At this point of my personal understanding, i would say colouring is just two things: 1) making sure your colours look good together, and 2) lighting (if u decide to even do lighting/shadows, that is)

The 1st one you can achieve by doing palette studies based on photographs or other ppls art, or by doing trial and error, or apparently by learning colour theory (im too dumb to understand it) and also applying digital tricks like overlay layers and also fiddling with hue/sat/brightness/contrast until it looks good to you. Below is my latest Audrey drawing without the overlay layer (left) and then with the overlay layer (right).

It’s magic, right!? I’m so used to having an overlay layer in every drawing now that these days i just slap one on before i even start colouring lmao. usually 20-50% opacity, usually a saturated orange or pink and then i’ll adjust as i go. mostly i just do trial and error like fitting wooden toy shapes into the right holes - my brain will go “ding!” when the arrow on the hue gauge hits a colour that looks good to my eyes.

The 2nd one, lighting, is more complex. I always say “lighting is everything” because to me it IS...it can control the entire mood of the picture. Where is the light? Is it hard or soft? is there a secondary light? What emotion are u trying to convey? and then how can you execute it? how would light look on THIS object compared to THAT object? A big part of lighting is being able to visualize your drawing in 3D. Once you can do that, you can lay down the light and shadows quite naturally depending on where your light source is. this ties into the way you DRAW things tho (like, u have to already be thinking about 3D while in the drawing stage) so i dont wanna get into it since this post is about colouring.

Lately I’ve been p lazy and doing all my major shadows on a single layer, set to “Shade” on sai (it might be something diff on other programs idk), 42% opacity (for this particular piece), and clipped to my folder of colour layers. So that means almost all my actual colour layers are just flat colours! Here’s my main shadow layer all by itself without any base colours (left), and then shadows + base colours (right):

sometimes i’m already thinking about lighting while im still sketching the picture. sometimes i’m already thinking about lighting before i even start to draw. For this particular pic I ended up with 5 different layers for lighting: 1) all shadows (42% opacity Shade layer); 2) some extra shadow under her hat (72% opacity Shade layer), which then allowed me to create the cool hat texture by simply erasing bits of this layer 3) a soft angelic backglow coming from behind her. this layer goes somewhere above the lineart layer to give the illusion of light spilling in front of her and fading out her edges; 4) secondary blue reflective light coming from the....sky im presuming, but mostly because i just felt like the drawing needed some blue lol; 5) a 55% opacity overlay layer containing a trace amount of vignette in 3 of the corners + an extra glob of light just to the right of her cuz i was experimenting with different instagram filters near the end and found one i rly liked and tried replicating it on sai 😂 Here’s the picture with only my main shadow layer (left) vs the picture with all 5 lighting layers (right):

The pic on the right makes her look more like she is Somewhere. I think I could’ve pushed the depth even more but i wasn’t confident enough. And sai doesn’t have blur tool :(

I also always have at least one layer that i name “extra”. The Extra layer goes on top of the colours/shadows/lineart layers, but under the overlay/glow layers. This is for extra details (including extra LIGHTING details) that I wanna add like extra sparkles, extra straw hat strands, hair strands, hair shine, zipper shine, etc all for that “extra” touch of realness. I don’t do all this stuff at the end, though. I have my Extra layer created pretty early on and i go back to it and add to it when I need to. Here’s what it would look like without the Extra layer (left), and with it (right). Try to find all the extra bits i listed:

One last note is i don’t colour one thing at a time. Before I start, I slap on all the base colours and all the shadows super roughly, just to check if my lighting and colour choices look good TOGETHER and make the entire composition look good. no point in spending hours rendering all the lighting and shadows on the character’s hair if in the end u decide there was actually a better lighting design u could’ve gone with. So here’s the rough colouring plan I made for myself before i started rendering for real:

im not sure if this was useful at all but i hope it was interesting at least! if you want to see my actual chronological process for colouring you can watch the gif of wips i compiled here: [link]. You’ll notice that i edit my lines as i colour. I think it’s good to be adaptable, and to be ready to go back and change ur lines to benefit your lighting, colouring, and overall look of the piece.

Also here’s the finished version of the pic: [link]

#Anonymous #miruask #miru art #tutorial #there's a lot more i didnt mention #i didnt mention my texture layers #cuz i felt too ashamed lol im just a sham artist using textures and overlays and texture overlays #textures can absolutely make ur colouring look interesting tho so try some out!#i didnt use a texture for the hat tho i did that all on my own and im proud #i also didnt mention locking ur lineart layer and colouring the lines themselves #but thats such an age old technique that im sure everyone already knows it

32 notes · View notes

kaiowut99 · 4 years

Photo

GX 54 (WIP): Reaching for the Star

So, it’s been a bit since the last time I posted about this poster, but we’re making some great headway here! First off, I’d like to give @paradoxi-kay a huge shout-out and round of applause for their time and effort in blanking the original poster’s “Star Duel” text and recreating the background so that I could go ahead and add in my translation (I blanked the name bubbles beforehand, and repainted things to Gokaido’s left and Manjoume’s right to “unblur” those parts--more on this in a bit). It’s been a bit, but always a pleasure, Kay! 🙏🏽🔥🙏🏽

So, I used TrebuchetMS for the names’ font, and since the “Star Duel” text there originally seems like the font they use for the episode title cards, I applied the font I use for the translated ones, tweaked to match the look here more. I’m actually really digging how it came out! I was torn between “A Star-Finding Duel” and “A Star-Finder Duel,” but ultimately settled on the former since I’d already called it that in 53′s preview for 54.

Now, comes the fun part--and the reason why I wanted to “unblur” the name bubbles and the sides of the poster (Kay also “unblurred” the star): recreating the panning shot. See, in Chronos’s flashback where this shows up, not only is it a shot panning from the bottom to the top of the poster, but there’s also that huge Gaussian Blur (or is it radial, hmm) surrounding the frame. The pan itself shouldn’t be hard, but I’m hoping it won’t be too hard to redo the frame blur in Vegas, while also kind of reducing the blur as Gokaido and Manjoume come into view, since they’re already blurred and I don’t want to make them even more blurred, lol. Fingers crossed!

Of course, after that, I have more fun lined up: this poster shows up three other times in Chronos’s flashback from different angles: two while it’s lying on his desk, and a third as he’s holding it and pulling it into the frame as he gestures in front of it. I’m thinking for the first two, I can just lie this down and redo the frame blur on top of it, while for this third angle, I think I’ll have to make use of the Corner Pin in After Effects (actually, I’ll probably need the Corner Pin for the first two, too), and then recreate the frame blur... [sorry, thinking out loud lol]

But the good news is that while I gave Kay time to edit the poster, I finished finalizing the subs for 54 proper! (I also worked on 2-3 card fixes before that involving Gokaido’s Ben Kei.) So, plan is once I get these edits done, I’ll put everything together and quality-check the whole thing. Meanwhile, I’ll put out a few photosets here/there to start teasing the final product, so stay tuned~

#GX #yugioh gx #yugioh #ygo gx #ygo #Houzan Gokaido #Jun Manjoume #subbing rambling #[chronos is the one reaching :P]#[also chronos and his 'ed loves us ed loves us not' pls]

8 notes · View notes

camwritesbooks · 5 years

Photo

↝ NANOWRIMO 2018 WRAP UP; Cursed Queen

Okay, so this is ten days late, I’m sorry. The past few days have been a much-needed chance to get back some energy and sort out my headspace. But here I am now to talk about how happy I am with how NaNoWriMo went this year! As some of you will know I set a goal of 20k words and didn’t *quite* make it (but that was a very specific choice made with my mental health in mind, I may add). However, I did get 18.5k, which is more than I’ve ever written for a WIP and the most I’ve got down in 2 years. My plan from now on is to attempt 10k a month and finish Cursed Queen by the middle of next year. I’m not sure that will happen, but I will try.

This November, I made some great strides with Cursed Queen and my WIPs in general. I sorted out the overall plot of the first book and fleshed out the main characters as well as creating some new ones! I’ve just fallen in love with my shiny new OCs including Sasha, Petro, Mira and more. I’ve also come to adore the villain, Kaliannisse, and all her evilness. I just can’t wait to keep writing more of her (including the novella I have planned that tells her backstory). Del and Merrin and Kieran have become so much more precious to me too.

Thank you to all those who have supported me, left comments on my NaNo updates and shown me and my blog love recently, especially during this past month. I doubt I would’ve managed to get this far without the continued kindness you guys give me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Below the cut I’ve put the *entire* first chapter, not something I’d usually do, so uh... check that out if you want! I know it’s a bit shit, but it’s the start and I’m proud of it!

wip(s) page • characters • intro post • del & merrin edit

Read the (totally unrevised and kind of crappy) Chapter One below ↴

chapter one; Del

I can smell smoke. Somewhere in this forest, something is burning. There are a lot of things it could be. A lightning storm raging on the other side of the nearest hills might have set a flame, or perhaps some fire bubbled out of the earth in the valley. Either way, it’s not a good thing.

I follow the trail back around, skirting the cliffs. I have a slightly unsettling feeling that I’m not alone in the forest, except that’s impossible. Nobody ever comes up here. Still, I swear I can hear what sounds like bracken crunching under feet some distance behind me.

“Merrin?” I call into the forest. My brother is the only one who might be out here, though even he doesn’t know how to get to this side of the plateau. Besides, he’s busy preparing for this evening. There’s no reply – all I can hear is the faint rustlings of wind in the trees. I probably imagined the footsteps. My nerves are just high because of the council meeting tonight.

I pause, resting a hand on the stone cliff beside me. The smell of smoke is growing stronger. If there is a fire, it could be close. After a moment of hesitation, I break into a run. The trees melt into a blur of brown and grey around me as I follow the track I’ve followed so many times back to the village. Wind rushes through my shoulder-length curly hair. Scrambling over smooth stone, I cross the crevice that cuts the plateau in two. I run and run until I’m gasping for breath. I stumble out of the trees and onto the wide open land of the plateau. The edge of the cliff is within sight, and beyond it is the mountains – two great ranges coming down on either side and converging in the middle, all of it lit up by golden late-afternoon sun. From up here, they seem so surmountable. I look out behind me and in the far distance I can see a small plume of smoke rising above the rocks and trees. There must be a fire somewhere. It’ll probably burn out before sunset though, so I’m not really worried.

I follow the curve of the plateau, breathing in deeply as the wind buffets me. Everything is beautiful up here, in this moment. I can pretend that I’m not hungry and slightly ill and that the people down in our village are all slowly dying. From here, I can see all the world I’ve ever known – the mountains, the valley, the great cliffs of the plateau. I can try to imagine what lies beyond the snowy hills or behind me, on the other side of the cliffs. I have only ever seen desolate tundra in that direction, but I can’t believe that it goes on forever.

Two or three years ago, I discovered a way from the smaller part of the plateau – the part the rest of the village knows of – and the forest-covered stretch of rock and earth beyond it. A deep ravine between the two sections, but I found a place where the walls of the trench caved in and you can get across safely enough. I didn’t tell anyone about it because there was little over there worth gathering, so it didn’t seem unfair to keep it as my place. If I did speak of it, the village leaders might not even let me go there anymore, saying I was too weak and thin to make it anything but a danger to me.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to think forward to the rest of the day. The town council. The ceremony. I have a nasty sinking feeling in my stomach every time I think of it. Within a few hours, I will have nothing or everything. Merrin will have everything – the town leaders like him. But they never really liked me.

I climb down the crumbled part of the plateau cliff, following the path carved there by hundreds of journeys. From this side I can see my village with its dark-tiled roofs and great town hall in the centre. A part of me doesn’t want to go back tonight, and I’m almost thinking of just turning around until I spot Merrin standing at the base of the cliff, glaring at me. His arms are crossed.

“Hey,” I say sheepishly as I land on the flat ground.

“Where’ve you been? The council meeting is about to begin,” he says. I shrug. “I was… around. I couldn’t deal with everyone staring at me.”

“They were staring at me and Sasha too, and Lorrie and he’s not even a part of it! Father was worried about you – people were saying you weren’t even going to show up.”

I feel bad for considering doing just that. “Of course I was,” I say. “I couldn’t miss this.”

“You know nothing bad is going to happen, right?”

For you, no. The story’s very different for me. There isn’t honestly much between me and Merrin, but that’s not how the town leaders see it. Sasha’s their golden girl, but they love Merrin too. Who they don’t love, is me. I’m too thin, too sick, too slow. Anything I do right is never enough. Which is why tonight, at the town council, Merrin and Sasha will be made full citizens of the town – adults – and I won’t.

I follow Merrin back towards the village, lurking behind. The streets are empty, which tells me I’m later than I thought. Sasha is waiting for us outside the town hall. She doesn’t have anything to worry about, the town leaders like her.

“What took you so long?” she asks, grinning.

“Sorry, sorry,” I say, throwing up my hands. “I lost track of time.”

“No issue, nothing starts till we go in,” says Sasha.

Merrin gives my hand a quick squeeze. “Well, shall we?”

I enter alongside Sasha, tucking my hair behind my ears nervously. Sitting at the great table at the end of the room is the town council, the rest of the town crowded around in the hall. The town meeting happens once every moon but today will be a special one because the ceremony is happening today. Me, Sasha and Merrin. Next year it will be Lorrie and possibly me again, if I don’t pass today.

“Ah,” says Ren Bell-Lu, the leader of the town council, as we enter. “Here they are.” I don’t like Ren very much, he was never kind to me.

We follow Merrin to the front of the crowd and people move out of our way. Silence falls over everyone. My father meets my gaze as I pass him and I look away quickly, feeling a heaviness on my shoulders. I don’t want to disappoint him.

Ren leans forward as we arrive before the table, smiling. “Sasha, Merrin and… Del,” he says, disapproval on his face as he says my name. “You are brought before the council today to be judged. You have all reached the age of eighteen and are now given the chance to be full citizens of the town. Are you ready?”

The three of us nod.

Ren raises his hand, making the sign of our village – palm facing the sky; middle, ring and pinky finger together and index finger curled up to meet the thumb. “Then, we shall begin. Merrin, step forward.” My brother steps out from beside Sasha, hand on his heart. “Merrin, do you accept the responsibilities of adulthood and swear to uphold the traditions of this town, forever and always until your death?”

My brother grins as he speaks. “I do.”

“Do you stand by your name?”

“I do.”

Ren dips his head and Merrin returns the gesture, stepping back into line with Sasha and me. My hands are shaking as Ren’s gaze moves to Sasha.

“Sasha, step forward.” Sasha moves towards the table, her long blonde hair swishing. “Do you, Sasha, accept the responsibilities of adulthood and swear to uphold the traditions of this town, forever and always until your death?”

Sasha’s eyes sparkle. “I do,” she says solemnly.

“Do you stand by your name?”

“From this day forth, I wish to be Sasha Blue, if you will grant it,” Sasha says. A flurry of whispers rushes around the room. I can’t remember a time in my life where someone requested another name. Of course it would be Sasha. I suppose she deserves it.

Ren looks surprised but recovers quickly. “Due to invaluable service past, present and future, we grant you this name. You are now Sasha Blue.” He and Sasha nod to each other before she steps back into line.

Ren’s gaze moves to me and I feel my cheeks burning. “Del,” he says tightly with none of the respect he showed Sasha. “Although you have proven herself to be a competent member of this town, we do not believe you are yet ready to be a full citizen.” I cringe. “I’m sure,” he continues, “by next season, you will be successful.”

But you hope I won’t be. Horror and shame melts over me. I can’t bear to look at Merrin or my father, fighting to keep the tears out of my eyes. I saw it coming, but some part of me didn’t want to believe it.

Ren looks away from me as if I never even existed. He starts going on about the crop yield this month and I try to merge back into the crowd.

Sasha follows me, furious. “How can they do that?” she hisses. “It’s completely unfair!” “Yeah,” I say dejectedly, staring at the floor.

“I wouldn’t have taken another name if I knew they were going to do that to you,” she whispers. I shake my head. “No, you deserve it. It’s a lovely name.”

Ren seems to have stopped talking and chatter begins to sprout up around us. “Thanks,” Sasha says, “I’m glad you like it.”

“How did you choose it?” I ask, trying to direct the conversation away from me. I just want to pretend that none of what just happened took place.

She shrugs. “It’s not that deep, I just like the colour blue.”

Liz Bell-Lu, Ren’s wife, appears at Sasha’s side, who happens to be her niece. Like Ren, Liz was one of the lucky few people who received a second name. Ren Bell and Liz Lu married several years ago and have ruled this town ever since.

“Ah, Sasha, congratulations on the name!” she says in her usual simpering tone. “Del, I’m sure it’ll be your turn next time.”

I do my best to force a smile.

“All you need,” Liz continues, “is just to put on a bit of weight, dearest. You are such a skinny little thing.”

Sasha looks embarrassed but I shake my head at her. The last thing I need is to be on Liz Bell-Lu’s bad side.

“Well, we’ll see,” I reply with as much charm as I can muster.

“Your mother was quite the same, if I remember correctly,” Liz goes on, completely unaware of herself. “Thin as sticks and always rather ill. I’m surprised she lived long enough to bear a child!” She laughs as if making fun of my dead mother is somehow an appropriate thing to do. Sasha grabs my arm and drags me away with a hasty, “Let’s go talk to Merrin!” We make our way across the room. “I’m so sorry for my aunt,” she says once we’re out of Liz’s hearing.

“It’s okay,” I say.

“It isn’t, though. Nothing tonight is okay.” Sasha sends a death-glare in the direction of Ren, who’s speaking with another member of the town council.

I sigh. “Look, I’m sure they’re right and next year I’ll join you and Merrin as full citizens. It just wasn’t going to happen this year.”

“Excuse me everyone!” calls out a voice and the room falls silent. Standing on the elevated platform before the town council table is Vrin, the oldest person in our village. He’s one of the most knowledgeable people in the town and spends his days transcribing old texts and tutoring children. He taught me how to read and write which I’m decent at, but he also showed me healing herbs and survival which I took to immediately. He taught Merrin and Sasha too, though unlike nearly every adult I know, he always liked me best.

“My good friends,” he says, raising his arms. “It is with the greatest joy that I announce to you that I have finally completed the translation of the old books.”

The crowd applauds – this has been Vran’s project for years.

“Aha, thank you,” Vran says, smiling, “but that is not all I have to say. I discovered in the texts the existence of another town – a city – beyond the mountains to the north.”

What? A heavy silence falls across the room.

“I will read to you the passage, if I may,” Vran continues, squinting down at some papers he holds. “We passed by the city of Veneficia on our journey into the continent. We were greeted warmly by the High Empress, who provided us all with rich meals and supplies for the road. This place is heavenly – the streets are lined with strange shops and market stalls. The people here are endlessly kind to us and I am honestly sorry that we must leave soon. I hope one day we shall return. The city is located at the west end of the mountains ranges and we aim to move only eastwards from now on.” Vran looks up, clearly delighted with the effect he has had on the room. “That is the final entry in the book we found underneath the floor of this very hall. Somewhere, only weeks away, is a city of people who could help our town,” he continues, punctuating each word. Whispers start up throughout the crowd.

“You think it’s true?” Sasha murmurs to me.

“I don’t know, Vrin’s pretty smart so I can’t imagine he’d get this wrong,” I say, not taking my eyes off the stage. I’m grateful to Vrin for finishing his translations coincidentally at this time to take the focus off me. Besides, this is the first time our town has had something actually newsworthy to talk about.

Ren steps back up onto the stage, raising his hands for silence. “Vran and I have spoken extensively on this matter and we agree that while our town is one of beauty and tradition, we would do well to remember that a hard winter is on the horizon. If we can find this city, it might be of great advantage to us. Before I continue, are there any questions?”

“Who wrote the book?” calls out someone.

“Someone who was a part of a group travelling in these parts. We know very little of them, but they are a trustworthy source,” Vran answers.

“How do we know this city is still around, if it’s even there in the first place?” asks Kit, who’s a few years older than us.

Ren and Vran share a quick look. “We don’t,” says Ren, “but if it is, the resources there could save lives. We will not be abandoning our home here, only looking for some stability. We will be sending around 7 or 8 members of the town on a journey to find the city. And that is why we’re here today.” His eyes scan the crowd and rest on me for an uncomfortably long time. “Em will be leading the group and will take Orla and Gram with her. Petro too will go.”

I look around to spot the people he mentioned. Em leans against a table, grinning, her lackeys Orla and Gram standing to the side. Petro is expressionless, standing in a corner with his arms crossed. I’m not surprised they chose Em, she’s one of the most respected young people in the town. Petro is a bit of a strange choice, but maybe he put himself forward.

“As for the other places in the group,” Ren continues, his voice hardening, “there will be some places for volunteers. However, I think it only fair that people get the chance to prove themselves after past failures.” He looks at me. “For this reason, the fourth member will be Del.”

My heart stops.

Thanks for reading! I hope you all have a good day and a fulfilling 2019. The future is bright <3

#thank you all again!#and sorry for the crappiness and unedited-ness of the chapter #nanowrimo 2018 #nano update #cursed queen #del #merrin #<3 #queue

52 notes · View notes

ghostsray · 6 years

Text

The Witching Hour

(HEY, so remember back in October when I said I’d write a fic for the first prompt of ectoberweek18 but never posted it? I couldn’t finish it because I got busy with another wip novel for nanowrimo, but heck it. I’ll just post what some of what I wrote.)

Word count: 1991

4:44 P.M.

Danny stirred awake to the sound of his friends calling his name. He groaned, feeling an intense pain in his head and throughout his body in general. As the pain subsided, he became aware of the cold metal tiles pressed against his cheek. Propping himself up with some effort, he blinked open his eyes to be greeted with the sight of his parents’ lab and Sam and Tucker leaning over him, faces knit with concern and then relief.

“Thank god you’re okay!” Sam cried and hugged him, pressing her arms around his white hazmat suit. He bit back a hiss as her hug caused his pain to flare up again, momentarily blinding his vision with black spots. As they went away, he noticed for the first time the portal looming behind them, the large structure that nearly killed him minutes ago. Green ectoplasm was now swirling within it, shrouding them with green light.

Sam let go and followed his eyes to the portal. Looking back and seeing his shocked expression, she smirked. “You did it,” she said. “It nearly killed you, but somehow, you got your parents’ portal to work—”

And then the portal suddenly shut down, the swirling ectoplasm replaced with an empty corridor filled with wires.

“…Or not.”

The three teens stared at the empty portal, speechless. Finally, Tucker broke the silence by saying, “So how exactly are you alive?” Hastily, he added, “I mean, no offense or anything, but you were zapped with like a million volts…are you feeling okay?”

“Just dandy,” Danny replied, wincing as he sat himself up. “But I’ll be fine, I think. Nothing worse than getting beat up by Dash.” He smiled, and his friends’ shoulders relaxed a bit. Then Sam caught something under his cheek and frowned again.

“You have a scar,” she pointed out.

“I do?” He tried in vain to look at where she was staring at his body. He couldn’t see it, but there were dark lines creeping up his neck from underneath his hazmat suit. They looked like thin, flowing branches embedded in his skin.

“It’s a Lichtenberg scar—like when someone is hit with lightning,” Tucker stated, recognizing the branching pattern. “I guess that makes sense, since you got zapped.”

They were distracted from the scar when the sound of the basement door opening caused all three heads to turn to the basement entrance. “Shit,” Danny muttered as his parents appeared.

“Danny? Are those your friends?” his father asked, stomping down the stairs towards them. “I thought we told you not to bring visitors to the lab…”

“I can explain!” Danny said quickly, scrambling up—

“…not without me here to explain things to them!” Jack finished with a grin. He placed a large hand on each of Sam and Tucker’s shoulders. “If you two are interested in our inventions, you could have told us! I could give you a tour!”

Sam and Tucker exchanged a quick glance before nervously smiling at Jack. “No thanks, Mr. F. I think we’re good.”

“You sure? Because Maddie and I just finished working on an invention, and we think it’s really interesting—”

“Homework!” Tucker blurted out, then quickly added, “We’d love to stay around for your tour, but we have homework to do.”

“Oh,” Jack said and watched the teens rush to the exit of the lab.

Maddie grabbed Danny’s arm at the doorway. “You’re wearing your hazmat suit,” she pointed out.

“Oh, right,” Danny replied and started taking it off.

“Actually, I was going to say you look good in it! Your father and I spend all day in our suits. It’s very comfortable, I think you would like it—”

“Thanks, but I think I prefer normal clothes,” Danny interrupted, stepping out of the white-and-black suit.

Maddie frowned when she noticed the dark lines on his skin. “Is that a scar—?” But Danny was already making his way to his room upstairs with his friends.

8:01 P.M.

Danny put down his pencil, having finally completed his overly complicated math homework. “When you said homework, I thought that was just an excuse,” he told Tucker.

“It was! But apparently Sam is too much of a nerd to let us do something else.”

The girl glared at him. “We were going to have to do it eventually. Might as well get it over at Danny’s house.”

“Well, we’re done now,” Danny stated. He looked out the window at the dark sky outside. “It’s pretty late. Want to stay over for dinner?”

Tucker looked at him like he was crazy. “And eat ecto-contaminated foods that attack you instead of my mom’s meatloaves?”

Danny shrugged. “Worth a try,” he said, and the three of them laughed.

As Sam and Tucker began to pack up their school things, Sam’s eyes caught Danny, and she paused. “Your scar,” she said.

Tucker stopped packing too and looked at Danny. His jaw dropped. “Dude.”

“What? Is it worse?” Danny asked worriedly.

“No, actually, it’s the exact opposite,” Tucker responded. “Your scar is gone.”

“What?”

“It’s true,” Sam confirmed. “Even though it hasn’t even been four hours, it’s completely healed.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Danny said, frowning.

“Neither does you being alive, yet here we are,” Tucker pointed out.

They didn’t say anything after that.

2:59 A.M.

“Danny? Danny, wake up!”

Sam was kneeling on the floor of the lab, trying to shake a figure awake. Danny was standing behind her.

“What are you doing?” he asked her. “I’m right here.”

He lifted a hand to her shoulder, but then he paused. Sam had turned around looked—not at him, but through him. In front of her, the figure she was trying to awaken was…him. His body. What…?

He stared at the body, then down at himself. Only he wasn’t there. He lifted his hands up, but he couldn’t see them.

“He’s dead, Sam,” he heard Tucker say and saw him sitting on the other side of the body.

No, I’m not, Danny wanted to say. But as he opened his mouth, he suddenly heard the whine of an ecto-gun and whipped around to find his mother holding a barrel to his invisible head.

“You’re a ghost,” she said. “Ghost aren’t allowed here.”

Before he could do anything, the trigger was pulled, and Danny opened his mouth to scream—

He shot up in bed, gasping and drenched in sweat. While his heart was threatening to break out of his chest, he looked around and saw that he was in his room. He exhaled and brought his hands to his face. It was just a dream.

The room was quiet. Next to him on his bedside, the glowing red numbers of his digital alarm clock stood out against the dark, reading 2:59. Danny sighed and let himself fall back onto his bed, intending to sleep again.

But then, something happened.

The clock’s number turned to 3:00.

He felt a cold sensation drape over his body.

He fell through his bed.

Danny screamed as he suddenly found himself falling, until he hit the floor with a thud. Groaning, he pushed himself up. He looked around and saw that he was in the kitchen.

The kitchen. Which is one floor below his room. Which he was in just a second ago.

Danny looked around wildly, wondering how in the world he got into the KITCHEN. He felt his body turn cold again and brought up his arms to warm himself, but he paused when he saw them because what the hell his hands are TRANSPARENT. He stared at them blankly for god knows who long, and then he let out a laugh. “I’m still dreaming, aren’t I?” he said to the empty kitchen.

As if it was the universe’s way of responding, a bright flash of light suddenly enveloped him, causing him to scream. He felt a searing white pain throughout his whole body—the same kind of pain he felt when he was electrocuted by the portal. A little part of his mind whispered to him that you can’t feel this kind of pain inside a dream, but he ignored it because he was too busy being in pain. Then, the light vanished, and he lay on the ground feeling…no longer in pain.

It was strange. Not only was the burning pain gone, but so were all his body aches from the day. Was this the universe’s way of apologizing to him? He lay there for a while, waiting for something else to happen, but nothing did. Hesitantly, Danny sat himself up and looked down at his body.

For some reason, he was wearing a hazmat suit. It looked identical to the one he wore in his parents’ lab, except this one was black-and-white instead of white-and-black. Why was he wearing an inverted version of his hazmat suit?

He heard footsteps hurrying towards him and looked up to find his mother in her pajamas, holding an ecto-gun in her hand.

“M—” He trailed off when the gun fired a shot, missing him by just half an inch. He stared at the blazing spot in the wall it hit then back at Maddie. “What the heck was that for?!”

“Where is Danny and what did you do to him?” she barked at him.

“What? What are you—”

“I heard Danny screaming, and I find you inside my house.”

“I am—”

“A ghost.”

…A ghost?

His mind shut down for a second as he stared into the barrel of the gun and at his mother’s unyielding expression. Slowly, he looked down at himself again and began to notice the slight glow emanating from his suit, the transparency to his body that made the kitchen tiles visible from beneath him, the blurred out form he had that made his body seem like mist shifting slightly in the air. It all clicked in his mind, and yet…it made no sense. “That can’t be right,” he heard a voice say and realized it was his own. “I’m not…I’m….”

Maddie’s expression didn’t change. She only gripped the gun harder and repeated, “Where is he?”

When he didn’t reply, she scowled and said, “Fine.” Then the gun she held hummed to life, and Danny realized with dread that she was going to shoot again, and this time it seemed less likely that she would miss.

The gun fired—

Oh god this is going to end up just like my dream isn’t it—

He shut his eyes and waited for the impact—

The cold sensation enveloped his body again, and before he knew it, he felt himself drop.

Danny’s eyes shot open, and he had just enough time to look up and see the shot fly over his head before he passed completely through the floor. He realized he was falling again and will probably have to land soon. His head whipped downward to see the rapidly nearing floor of the basement, and he held out his arms in panic and braced for impact—only it never came.

He stayed frozen in place, staring down at the ground which for some reason stopped getting closer. Hesitantly, he looked down at himself and saw that he was floating a foot or so above the floor.

“What the f—” His sentence was interrupted when whatever force was holding him up let go and he landed on his butt.

As he lifted himself up to his feet, he noticed for the first time that the surfaces of the room were shrouded in neon green light. A quick check on his newly spectral body confirmed that it was not coming from him, since his light…body glowy thing…was white. Seriously, what was going on? He looked around the lab to see where the green light was coming from and paused when his eyes faced what was behind him.

It was the portal, gate wide open and filled with lime green ectoplasm swirling within its hold.

#Danny Phantom #fic #phicc #ectoberweek18 #ectoberweek #even though its way past october #mine

33 notes · View notes

armory-rasa · 6 years

Text

Long tutorial time: How to Take Product Photos That Don’t Suck

If you’re trying to sell your handcrafted work online, then your photos matter so much -- I daresay almost more than the work itself.

“Upcycled” items that are literal trash (but attractively photographed!) can sucker people into paying actual money for them. And on the flip side, the best-quality leatherwork in the world is going to look dubious af when the product shots were obviously taken in someone’s kitchen, lit by fluorescent lights and a camera flash.

You will get more sales and you will be able to charge more for your work if you have professional-looking product photos -- not fair, maybe, but true. So today I am going to show you how to create decent-looking stock photos, ie, a picture of just the thing itself on a backdrop.

(The cat is unrelated -- clickbait, really.)

I’ll admit upfront that I am very, very far from being a photography expert, and I'm sure an expert could do better than me, but I can't afford an expert and probably neither can you. And this isn’t about the mechanics anyway, it’s about the setup, and just making these small changes can seriously up your game.

Step one: camera

Unless you've already got a good camera, your best bet is going to be a smartphone -- and make no mistake, smartphones are a close second, not a distant one. Modern smartphones are phenomenal, they’re far better than even slightly-dated digital cameras. They can't get you the soft-focus background that an actual, professional camera can (the lens simply isn't long enough), but you can approximate that effect with photoshop if you want to, and the set-up I'm demonstrating here doesn't need a fuzzed background anyway.

The only critical feature is that your camera can take sharp, in-focus pictures.

If you don't have a good smartphone, find a friend who does and beg/wheedle/blackmail/bully them into letting you use it for a bit.

Honestly, I've got a good camera, and half the time I still wind up using my phone because I’m too lazy to bust it out.

Step two: backdrop

There are a lot of artistic things you can do if you're taking pictures of a product in situ -- action shots, still lifes, pictures of it worn by models -- and all that will help your customers visualize themselves using the item, but it's also vital to have pictures of JUST the thing, pictures that cleanly and clearly show exactly what the customer is going to be receiving in exchange for the money they throw at you -- aka stock photos.

And for stock photos, you don't want to get creative with your background. In fact, if you can use the same background for many/most of your images, it will contribute to an attractive, coherent look for your shop. That means finding a neutral-toned backdrop that will work with any color item you put on top of it -- white, black, grey, beige, basically.

White can mean a lightbox...

(And there are a million tutorials online for how to rig up your own DIY lightbox)

...or another popular alternative is a white table pushed up against a white wall; the seam between the two is visible, but discreet enough that the eye glides right over it.

Black, you can do with cleverdick manipulation of the settings on an expensive camera, or you can find a non-reflective black backdrop -- which is easier said than done. Fine, dense, matte black velvet (think theatre curtains) is the go-to black backdrop, just make sure you run a lint roller over it before taking pics.

Any other color is going to depend on the backdrop you choose -- I personally have had excellent luck with some warm-grey velvet (?) yardage that I picked up for pennies at a goodwill a million years ago. (I’m not sure what it is -- it has the pile of velvet, but shorter?) I didn’t buy it for that purpose, but it’s since proven to be an incredibly versatile backdrop, and I’ve taken to using it for everything:

etc.

And even if you’re not stumbling onto a super-good-deal at goodwill, a yard or two of your chosen fabric will generally do you fine.

What I don’t recommend is:

- shiny fabric (anything shiny is overall more difficult to photograph -- and shiny spots will draw attention to themselves, rather than your product)

- vivid colors (limits what color items you can display on it; will often clash if the item is close-but-not-quite-the-same color (and what looks fine to your eye may not look fine on film); can distract from the item you’re showcasing)

- patterns (again, distracts from the centerpiece; draws attention to the background; moreover, is hell to clone-brush)

Here is all three of them being the perfect storm of not-a-good-stock-photo:

Which is not to say you can’t do something artistic with it...

...but it’s not very versatile, and it’s not exactly “stock photo” anymore.

One of the reasons I really really like velvet for a backdrop is that there’s nothing in the world easier to clone brush. Which happens, for instance, if I get my roll of photos transferred to the computer and realize there’s some lint I neglected to brush off, or if I was too lazy to iron my backdrop so it’s got wrinkles/creases in it, or if the angle I had to take the photograph from clipped the edge of the backdrop--

--it is super fuckin’ easy to clone all that out. (It also takes the burn tool really well, to darken the edges and point the viewer’s attention toward the middle of the picture, see above.)

Other backdrops that can work are fur (or faux fur):

The great outdoors: mulch, leaves, dirt, sand, etc--

(That was taken at my shitty old apartment complex, so I had to carefully remove the cigarette butts from the shot first. -_-)

(I admit I’ve mostly stopped using these kind of outdoor backdrops -- they’re harder to pull off than wood/concrete/fabric -- but in the hands of someone with an eye for composition, they can definitely be used to good effect, so I’m including them here anyway. You just want to make sure that the background isn’t distracting from the item, which you can sometimes do in post by darkening/fuzzing the background relative to the focal object.)

Concrete:

And wood:

In short, there are many things that are (1) unobtrusive and (2) neutral-colored that will make excellent backdrops.

Professional photography backdrops (essentially, the velvet I have) are close to true neutral, not affecting the “feel” of the picture at all, and there are tons of tutorials online to make your own DIY photography backdrops.

Conversely, you can also use a specific backdrop to help create the mood you want to convey for the piece -- concrete for gritty and urban; fur to evoke a rich and sumptuous feeling (or a primitive one, depending on what you’re selling); wood or rough-spun cloth for something rustic; dirt and leaves to take it back to nature.

I’m not going to say the sky’s the limit, because we’re talking stock photos not ARRRRT!!, you gotta rein it in a bit, but you do have a lot of options -- anything that’s not going to clash with the mood or distract from your product.

Step three: lighting

USE THE FUCKING SUN.

Don’t ever, ever use a flash for product photography, seriously, are you some kind of SAVAGE?

Cardinal sin right there; go straight to hell, do not pass go, etc. Lighting like that, your product looks like it’s drunk at a frat party.

Moreover, unless you are a wildly over-funded professional, and possibly not even then, there is no light source superior to the sun. Sure, if you finish your project at midnight and can’t wait to share it, take some snapshots in your shitty studio light and send them to your friends--

--but do not make that your product listing photo. You can do so much better.

(And notice the color difference too -- natural light tends to be much better at capturing color that is true-to-life. The second picture is far more accurate to the actual item.)

That said, direct sunlight is a HELL NO go. The shadows it casts are way too stark, and details can get lost because the camera has trouble navigating the gap between the super-dark parts of the picture and the super-bright parts.

And it turned out that I’d never bothered to keep any of the photos I took in direct sunlight (because they sucked), so for the purposes of this tutorial, I had to take a couple of my WIPs outside and go make some.

Direct sunlight:

The glare and the obvious shadows make these photos look strikingly amateurish. It draws attention to the background, highlights the fact that the bracers are just sitting in some lame dead grass. These photos look like someone finished making the bracer, carried it ten feet out into their backyard, and snapped a picture.

Which, yeah, is what we’re doing, but it doesn’t have to look it.

By contrast, indirect sunlight, when I move it four feet over into the shade of the house:

Right away, the diffused light (sort of soft-focus?) is more in line with what you see in professional photos. They still need editing before they’d be ready to roll out -- fiddling with contrast/saturation/white balance; clone-brushing out some of the distracting elements in the background; darker shading around the frame to center attention on the product -- but they have the potential to be decent photos now, instead of being critically flawed from the get-go.

When you’re using sunlight as your source, you’re usually going to be setting up either outside in the shade, or inside next to a window.

The context for some of these shots can also be hilariously un-sexy when you zoom out:

Sunlight tends to be much better at retaining the textural details of your work too, because more light means your camera can take a much quicker shot (low light = camera compensates by leaving the lens open longer to collect more light = blur).

If you want to really capture the fine texture of an item, natural light coming from one side (like through a window) is perfect, because of the shadows it casts:

On that note: if you’re trying to use a window as your light source, you may have trouble with the far side of the object being completely lost in darkness:

Which can be artistic, but doesn’t make for a great stock photo.

The solution is not to use another light source, but to use a reflector -- my go-to is white foam-core posterboard:

Which can fill in the shadows that are obscuring parts of your work:

Mirrors or foil can work for this too, but they tend to cast stark/uneven light, whereas the white board diffuses it, and diffusion is pretty much always what you want.

On the subject of diffusion: overcast days are your BEST FRIEND. They basically turn the whole sky into a lightbox for you. You get soft, beautiful light from all directions, muted enough to reduce glare, but there’s still more than enough light to keep your camera happy and your details sharp.

(Man I wish there were more clouds where I lived.)

Here’s an interesting little contrast -- this one was taken on a sunny day, but in the shadow of my house, using a white reflector to move light around:

And then the very next day we had rain, and I was like, hell yeah, and took it outside for more pics:

Obviously both have had the contrast increased to bring out the details, but the mood difference between the two is 100% the weather.

And that is FAR from everything there is to say on the subject of photography lighting, but for the purposes of amateur product photography, those are the important bits.

TL;DR:

- Natural light

- Diffused light

Step 4: post-production

This is also not something I’m an expert in, I’ve learned just enough to get by and called it good enough. (It’s why I lean on overcast days whenever I can, because it eliminates a lot of the lighting problems that I don’t know how to fix in post.)

But here are some of the things that you will find yourself needing to know, and should be looking up how-to’s on for your graphics editor of choice:

White balance/saturation

Light comes in different colors, but the human eye automatically compensates for it, so often times something looks good to your eyes, but then comes out way funky on film.

Indoor lighting tends to be yellow-hued, because that’s what feels warm and comfortable to humans, but it looks nasty in photographs:

Natural light tends to be white (which is why it gives you more accurate colors), getting more blueish as it heads toward evening:

You can compensate for both by adjusting the white balance, in which the program figures out what white is supposed to look like, and then calibrates all the other colors in the picture accordingly.

Brightness/contrast

Is it bright enough to see the details? Is the contrast high enough to make the details POP, instead of blending together into a muddle?

You can apply brightness/contrast adjustments to the full image, and then (if necessary) go in by hand with the burn/dodge tool (brightness up/brightness down) and add extra highlights.

(Don’t go overboard on this though -- this isn't art, this is a product photo, and if you take it too far from the real object, you are lying in your advertising.)

Blur/sharpen

Are the focal points sharp? Sharp areas of an image are what draws the eye, so if your photos are blurry, they’re no good and there’s no fixing them -- grab your camera and go take some more.

Is your background less sharp than the foreground? A too-sharp background will distract from the central point, so sometimes you can put a very subtle blur on it to trick the eye into ignoring it. (Dropping the brightness and the contrast are also both ways to make the background less eye-catching.)

Clone brush

Basically a mini copy-paste tool, you grab parts of the image and copy it onto other parts. This is good for tidying up your background -- coloring in corners that your backdrop didn’t cover, or removing distracting irregularities.

Again, this is one to be used sparingly, because this is product photography, it needs to be accurate, not idealized. You don’t get to scrub off the imperfections and make it look like you’re better at [whatever] than you are.

The only time I consider it acceptable to use the clone brush tool on the actual product is for editing out flaws in the leather itself. It’s a stock photo; customers are not going to be getting the exact item shown in the photo. I’ll be making a new one for them, one that’s not going to have those exact flaws. (It’ll have excitingly new and different flaws! Such is the nature of organic materials.)

Edge gradients

A subtle shadow around the edge of your picture brings the whole thing together, makes the background recede a bit, and directs the eye toward the centerpiece. Too heavy a hand with this will still look nice, but more staged; it alerts the viewer that you’ve been photoshopping and kills the “I woke up like this~” illusion.

Relatively natural:

Dramatic!

Watermarking

You want people to be able to find their way back to you when your work inevitably gets cross-posted without the source (fuck you in the face, pinterest), so it’s not enough to put your initials or abstract logo or illegible signature on it, you need your google-able name or company name.

At the same time, people have been known to crop out (or clone-brush out) watermarks that are big and tacky, so it’s in your best interests to make your watermark tasteful and inoffensive. (Also: ugly watermarks just bring down your whole image, seriously.)

Some of the pictures above are old enough that they’re sporting my older & less professional-looking watermarks, but what I use at the moment is this:

(But, y’know, smaller.)

Best way to do watermarks is usually to create another layer over your image and blend the two. For dark logo/light background, the settings for the new layer are 1) blend mode: multiply, 2) opacity: 85% (adjust as needed). For light logo/dark background, the blend mode is probably going to be “soft light.” And then just paste your logo in the corner of the new layer -- the blend mode means your logo doesn’t have to be transparent, the program just ignores the parts that are lighter/darker than the background.

And that, I believe, is the end. o_O I had no idea I had so many opinions on the subject of product photography.

Again -- I’m not a pro. I don’t know how to use 99% of my camera settings or 80% of my graphics program. (For fuck’s sake, my go-to graphics editor is the bootleg version of Paintshop Pro that I acquired in 1997.) This post represents the sum total of my knowledge on the subject.

But it just goes to show that you can do a lot with only a little, and that your composition and sense of aesthetics are far more important than what gear you’ve got.

#y'all should reblog this #because there are people who NEED TO SEE THIS #much obliged #gremble has opinions #tutorial #photography #diy #making this yo business #long-form tutorial

39 notes · View notes

hydrospanners · 5 years

Text

a writing year in review: 2k18 edition

So I’m taking a minute to look back at all the writing I did this year and it has been a pretty spotty year for fanfic for me. Lots of long, blank spaces between weird surges of productivity. But! I did a lot of work on my original projects and also the boring adult responsibilities in my life (I changed jobs three times!!! I changed my name!!! I started going to therapy!!!!) and I pushed out some fic I really liked this year in spite of all that so, all things considered, I’m calling this one a win.

Without further ado, here is the breakdown of all the fic I’ve written this year plus a sad breakdown all of the geriatric WIPs looking at me with their big sad eyes, crossing their fingers for 2019. Hiding most of it under a cut because the rankings and WIP snippets got long.

2k18's Publication Stats for Fun & Profit:

This year I published 16 fanfics, all but one for SWTOR. 10 were brand new, started and finished in 2018, and 6 were old WIPS that have been marinating for Force only knows how long. That number is down from the 29 fics I published in 2017, but close to the 14 I published in 2016. 2015 was only 3 fics and 2014 was only 2. I have a total of 64 works published on AO3.

This year I published 34559 words for an average of about 2160 words per fic. This is extremely above my overall average of about 930 words per fic with a combined total of 59569 words published since I started posting fic publicly back in 2014.

So the number of fics may be lower this year but the number of words total and the average words in the fics I did publish went up! Please enjoy a review of the shit people liked most according to AO3 and then the stuff I personally liked most because I'm allowed to like my own writing, sue me.

2k18's Most Read Fics:

1. spoonful of sugar: Everyone gets sick sometimes; even big damn heroes. These are vignettes about the Jedi Knight's crew getting sick, getting treated, and getting better. (SWTOR)

I started writing this one when I got really sick during the summer of 2017 and I finally finished it this year! There's another part that I cut because it got way out of control that I'd like to one day add back in as a second chapter but I am okay with calling this one complete and maybe never doing that. This one is a nice combo of funny and a little bit sweet that I think is refreshing, like a cold, fruity drink on a hot summer's day. Here is my very favorite line from this whole fic because it is so delightfully dumb:

“Scourge,” Rhese tries and fails to sound as though he has some degree of command over his own voice right now. “Get off my dick.”

2. filling the table: They have a saying back on Corellia that the only way you can ever really know a man is by taking his credits. They also have a saying that you should never play cards with a Corellian because Corellians always cheat, but she's betting Doc never heard that one. (SWTOR)

I think I started this one all the way back in like 2014 or 2015. I can't remember now but it was a long time ago and this piece of shit has morphed a million times since then. I must have rewritten the ending about a million times.

I really wanted to capture the desperation of the Balmorran Resistance while I was doing the character work with this, the sense of limited resources and hard living, and I am pretty happy with the result. I'm also pretty happy with the characterization work here, the little snippets they are both revealing to each other and the bigger snippets they aren't. I'm still not entirely happy with the white spaces in this one. I feel like I was a little too sparse and there are lots of places that don't flow if you don't already know what isn't being said, but I am more or less happy with this one! Here is my favorite bit because of the doublespeak foreshadowing their future relationship that was definitely on purpose:

Four hands later, she’s fifty credits richer and Doc is rooting around in his pocket for something to scribble another IOU on. She knows he’ll never make good on it, but Rea’s happy to accept his empty promises if it keeps him playing the game. She’s overdue for a bit of fun.

3. take back what the kingdom stole: Alliance Commander Nirea Velaran has always had a talent for burning bridges. When Theron comes to her after Nathema to pay for his sins, she finds herself wondering whether some bridges can't be repaired. (SWTOR)

Hey look! Something I started and finished in the same calendar year!! This one grew out of a very stupid joke that I ended up not even making until the end of the fic. At first I wanted to draw that bit, but I got frustrated with my lacking artistic talent so I wrote it instead and it turned into one of my fave things I've written. It has nice scenery and character growth and intimate friendships that have a real impact on their emotional lives! Hurt feelings aren't just for romance fam!! Anyway here's my favorite bit because it's one of the most Rea moments I've ever written:

He shoved her off his shoulder none-too-gently, scowling as he looked skyward, as if searching for another fleet of hostile ships to arrive and grant him the sweet release of death. When none came, he settled for another hearty gulp of whiskey. He had to be halfway to knackered by now. “You’re insufferable,” he grumbled.

“I know.” She smiled a smile that felt damn near genuine and collapsed back against the grass, swinging her legs out over the crevasse.

“I don’t even feel bad about all this anymore.” Theron complained. “You deserve it.”

Rea only laughed. A real laugh, all the way up from her belly, and it felt so fucking good.

Theron looked at her from the corners of his bloodshot eyes, suspicious and too clever by half. “Fuck,” he swore, shaking his head. “You just mindfucked me, didn’t you?”

2k18 Author’s Choice:

1. when the wicked play. After witnessing his first real lightsaber duel, Doc reflects on the contradictions of what the Jedi are supposed to be and the realities of fighting a war. (SWTOR)

This might be one of my very favorite things I've written ever. In case it wasn't clear by now, I am pretty preoccupied with making myself feel the weight of the violence and uncertainty and war that plagues you in this game. It all feels so clean and sanitary in the game because it's a game, but it's something I always want to explore and make visceral in the stories I tell about the game. I am also obsessed with Jedi and the mythos and conflicting ideas that must surround them inside the story's universe. This was a fun way to marry the two and do a bit of character work at the same time. I'm also pretty proud of this one structurally, with how contained and bookended it is. [high fives self] Anyway here's my favorite part because it's some of the only action I've written that feels like it captures the brutal urgency of how I imagine actual lightsaber combat and also says a little bit about my girl Rea via the way she fights:

Rea is little more than a blur of blue light as she collides with the Sith across the field, her sabers swinging too fast for Doc’s eyes to track. She’s hammering her enemy from every side, pushing him back and back and back. Her assault is savage and relentless and there is nothing like grace or elegance in any of it. It isn’t beautiful; it’s violence. Ugly, brutal violence.

The whole thing is over in less than a minute.

Blue meets red meets blue meets blue meets blue meets red and then the Sith’s head is hitting the floor with a muffled thump. It happens so abruptly Doc doesn’t even realize it’s ended until the rest of the body collapses a heartbeat later.

2. shadows settle on the place that you left. In the wake of her father’s death, Nyria Ryder tries to reconcile the man she knew with the shadow he left hanging over her. (Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Look! Something that isn't SWTOR! (The only thing I wrote this year that wasn't for SWTOR.) I have a whole bunch of feelings about Alec Ryder and had a really good time porting Rea over to this game and seeing the ways his presence in her life altered who she is and the ways that it didn't. Also I have a lot of feelings about SAM. This is probably peak self-indulgence but I still feel like this is some efficient sketching of Nyria's character and Alec's and their particular relationship and I'm pretty proud of it. Also I'm always a slut for complicated familial relationships. Here is my favorite bit because it's such a nice illustration of who Ria is and an important turning point for her character:

She decided to be kinder to SAM than the universe had been to her. He was her brother, just as much as Rhys, and she was all he had. She would have to make sure herself was enough.

“He believed in us both,” she told him what he needed to hear, even though it wasn’t true. Then she made a promise she could not keep, because she knew he needed that too: “You and me are going to figure this thing out. Just you watch. We’re gonna make Alec proud.”

All the same stuff I said above applies here still. Glad we can all agree this one was nice.

State of the WIPs

Just for fun I did a dive into my WIP folder to see what I'm setting myself up for in 2019! Only it wasn't very fun at all because there is so much really old stuff in here!!!!!! Good luck to future me because past me really left you with the bag girl! Good luck carrying the weight of hopes and dreams and stories unfulfilled!!

I have a total of 48 fics in progress right now. The fandom breakdown is as follows, ranked from the most to the least: Star Wars: The Old Republic (35), Dragon Age (8), Mass Effect: Andromeda (4), Fallout 4 (1). And because I'm a masochist, I looked at the dates on all this shit too. Here's the breakdown of what year all of these things were started:

2014: 4 fics

2015: 9 fics

2016: 15 fics

2017: 11 fics

2018: 9 fics

That sound you hear is me sobbing in the distance. 2014!!! What the fuck!!!!! I am gonna finish those four fics this year if it kills me. We aren't living like this anymore. Please enjoy some samples from the WIP folder with absolutely no context:

“You carry sleeping pills in your pocket?”

“For my wife. Maybe you’ve met her? About this high--” Doc raised his hand half a foot over his own head “--brown hair, blue eyes, great ass.”

Ignoring the commentary on his sister’s figure and the extreme overestimation of her height, Rhese nodded. “I may have seen her around.”

“Well if you see her again, you tell her to come home. Her family’s worried.”

Do you hear that Rea? Your family is worried. Rhese wondered if she could feel their concern, their anguish. Was she searching for them as they searched for her? She’d always been good at hiding, but she’d never vanished completely before. A hole in the Force where her warm, fervent energy should have been.

He felt cold. Really alone for the first time in his life. Careful what you wish for, Liss had always said. You might just get it.

Ossus is important.

Rea feels it when she falls out of hyperspace, that shift, that tug of something just behind her navel. The familiar weight of destiny, settling like a stone in the pit of her stomach. It leaves her breathless, white-knuckled and gripping the shuttle’s controls, her skin prickling under the cold caress of dread.

She wasn’t expecting this story to have a happy ending—a colony of Jedi on the eve of war? she’s danced that dance enough times to know the steps by now—but she wasn’t expecting anything so bad as the draw of destiny.

Fate has never been anything but cruel to her. Feeling it here, now? This is going to be worse than she imagined.

This is how you deal with failure.

You just do.

You get up in the morning and brush your teeth. You train until your legs wobble beneath you. You choke down your nutripaste and ask Simms about his niece. You congratulate Tarinik on her promotion. You laugh too loud at Vortena’s shit jokes. And when Beniko’s eyes follow a little too close, you blow her a kiss like it doesn’t matter at all.

You keep moving forward because standing still will kill you. Because life is a race and if you slow down for even a second, death will catch up.

Nirea Velaran is not ready to die.

She is not maleficarum, but she is changed. Something is awake inside her now, and the whispers are louder each time she touches the Fade. Sweet, coaxing whispers full of promises. Some of them sound like her mother.

Take care of your brother, Niria. You’re all he’s got.

In the morning, Qarric wakes with a pounding head and an empty sleeve. He never asks, but he watches her more sharply, reprimands her more often, demands more of her in training.

When she is fourteen, blade tucked into the top of her worn boot, he gives her a warning. “You aren’t as strong as you think,” he says. “No one is.”

“Is it much farther?” Ria jabbed the bladed end of her stave--a fancy enchanted thing Vivienne had insisted on--into the sodden ground and squinted through the trees, praying for a glimpse of the promised coast. The air smelled of salt and death and the sea, but she hadn’t seen a single crashing wave yet.

“A few more miles yet,” Blackwall answered irritably. Ria had elected to blame the weather for his foul mood. “Same as it was five minutes ago, Your Worship.”

“And five minutes before that,” Varric added.

“Conditions are much safer inside the ship, Nyria.”

“Didn’t come all the way out here to be safe, SAM.” Another rock plinked hollowly against the wall of the prefab. “We came to see new planets and shit. That’s what I’m doing.”

“There is not much to see at night.”

“Not much to see during the day either. Sure as hell nothing worth dying for.” She huffed a bitter not-quite-laugh.

She spoke before he could even open his mouth to ask the question. “You’re overthinking it, little brother.”

“We’re twins,” he said, mostly out of habit. “And I’m taller.”

“Your hair is taller.”

“This is serious, Nyria.”

“So is your hair.” She reached out almost absent-mindedly to ruffle it, eyes still fixed on her omni-tool, but he dodged out of the way.

#long post #idk what else to tag this as #so long 2k18!!!!#you were a bitch of a year and i hated you!!!!!#good vibes & righteous anger for 2k19!!

4 notes · View notes

digimondestined · 5 years

Note

1-50 :D (for xxx: Blurred Lines; 42: Aokise Songfics (Need You Now); 46: Try- and Keep Trying; 47, made up title: In the man behold a child) ❤️

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

Oof. 12 ish? FFNet But we don’t speak about it; the site or the writing :P

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

Right now, I’m more invested in aokise / knb fandom and well, once invested, it’s hard to pull my focus :P Other fandoms I’m interested in writing in as of the moment are Owari No Seraph (Gureshin :P) and Seven Deadly Sins (man, that’s lovely hell)

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

Probably OCs? I haven’t written OC’s in a while but heck, reader inserts sounds kinda of awkward to write :P

4) What is your favourite genre to write for?

…is angst with a happy ending a genre?(Otherwise maybe coming of age?)

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

Blurred Lines is the only one that has an actual plot :P and is multi chaptered :P. It’s also got a couple of my favorite tropes such as mutual pining & simultaneous obliviousness. To be honest, I normally don’t edit my works before I put them out (sometimes I’ll get a loving friend to look at it tho :PPPPPP) because I can’t bear reading what I’ve written without cringing, but yeah, I thought Blurred Lines was pretty good :D in terms of writing skill because I’ve been able to read it again aha and I thank all the wonderful people who showered me the work with compliments.

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

LMAO WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I HAVEN’T ALREADY? If I delete stories, it’s always for the reason I’m disappointed with it in hindsight, or xD embarrassed I produced such poo.

7) When is your preferred time to write?

Night time becuz I like to procrastinate, it’s quiet and the dark is cozy.

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Other writers/stories, canon material, music, random insights at odd times, prompts sparked by single words or little phrases, prompts from sites or book quotes or from friends and epiphanies, and then mostly I don’t :P

9) In your Blurred Lines fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote?

Chapter 5, the (two I guess?) scene where Aomine’s really upset and Kise makes it his job to take his mind off of it; it’s a memorable moment for both of them because Kise’s determination and hard work really gets to show (SEIRIN GAH; jskghjkghg sg lgsg gsjlsd) in front of two people that mean a lot: himself and Aomine, and for Aomine, it’s an example of how he can be weak and injured too, and is so much more than some give him credit for.

10) In your fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind? Nah, I really liked how it ended actually :) Happy after endings are my favorite :)

11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

I’ve only gotten harsh criticism once or twice and man, you should’ve seen me RAWRR in their faces :P. Sometimes self criticism- ex: dislike of plot- will get me to edit though; and then there are just times where I’ve been lazy but reading the work, I’ll see flaws that definitely have to be changed and will proceed to do so.

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

Aomine and Kise are the most fun imo. I go wild with both because of the complexity to both their characters and simply, the inspiration you can see from different works of other authors (Ex: MoustachePenguin wrote JustBreathe with Kise who had crushing depression and KaijosCopyCat wrote When It Rains, It Rains Bullets, where Kise is actually more jaded than Aomine is); point being said, there’s enough material to make a lot reasonable.Kise is fun for his masks and layers; Aomine is great for his relativity. And of course, you can always find a way to knit in angst of some sort :P

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

Lots man. Kuroko, Murasakibara-

14) How did you come up with the title for the xxx? - You can ask about multiple stories.

SO. Remember how it was planned as a one-shot aha :P I’d gotten 3 chapters and ½ written out before I said screw it and posted them before gradually working on the rest :P

Anyways, I’d only then finished on a final summary, and with one of the parts being “Lines Blurring”, I thought heck let’s roll with that.

Oh also! Had a hard time getting that summary out. gotta thank my special, one and only snowflake.

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

- Likes to indulge myself; I’ll base OCs of some real characters, then twinkle with the name little bit, maybe adding extra letters or finding names with similar meanings?

- It also has to do with how the name tastes. You know how some words just flow better? (Connotation and all that :P) but like, Jewel over Gem, Crystal over Jewel, Ruby over Everything, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.

16) How did you come up with the idea for xxx?

Was a prompt- (voldetort :P)

but i was given an open ending option and then i took it and ran with it and turned it into angst with happy ending :P

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

Kise stuck out his tongue, Aomine smirked, and they let Momoi laugh herself dry.

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Yah, who doesn’t? :PP (atop of the temporarily abandoned WIPs :PPP) Either loss of enthusiasm, lack of ability (time, but mostly procrastination :P) to write, or post-insights that lemme realize the story is unsatisfying to the point of repulsive :P

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

Maybe Blurred Lines? Struggle them through 2nd year of school, relationship where it’s so much more precious than a regular, “we-just-began-a-”relationship” because of the stakes. (But then I’d have to like write a conflict???and my inability to be creative would hinder that :P)

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

I haven’t really “ended” any stories of worthy length, but for Blurred Lines :P. Which had an okay ending in my opinion, though maybe hurriedly carried out XDI imagine when I do get to finishing more/other stories, I might? Because I can be impulsive. :P But then again, I take a heck long time to procrastinate; and sometimes that means more time to think about how a story wants to go- in these cases, I don’t, usually :)

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

I am heck into lots of writers.

Roch; VanillaDaydreams22 (tumblr) and just VanillaDaydreams (ao3) is a great friend and writer :P with a lovely, descriptive style of fluid writing.

A famous one would be moustachiopenguin - wrote lots of heart wrenching stories; aha we both know :P So, imagination, use of plot, detail, etc.

And then there’s an up and new coming one; her name starts with a Y and ends with a U.

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Literally all of them. :P Anything from over 4-6 months in particular is a bit of, no thanks :P

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

I prefer music, even though sometimes it’s not helpful and actually, is a hindrance :P but music always helps the mood~

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

Laughs.

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

Writing? Nah. Reading? Heck, few times.

26) Which part of your Blurred Lines fic was the hardest to write?

All of it cause I didn’t want to write it, I wanted to waste time~

- In the later chapters, carrying out Aomine’s realization for feelings was a little difficult; I had Satsuki sort of catalyze his action, because he’s pretty heckin determined to get Kise in his unconscious mind; Satsuki’s rejection just enforces the feeling he needs to express himself, though hard. But I occasionally would wonder whether Aomine was made too soft, or OOC in general.

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

My impulsiveness pushes me towards flow; but for fics requiring detail, general outline help XD no matter how “general”.

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

Maybe just the fact that the fandoms I’d get to were in existence :D like how some of us talked about, would have been pretty cool to write with the other gazillion of fan- tho, then again, wouldn’t trade them for you guys aha

There’s a lot of things I’ve learned from it and only with the actual writing action have I come to understand the things :P

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

Maybe Lazy or No Questions Asked. Lazy, because it was the first time I’d written something short but with a bit of story to it still, y’know? :P And then No Questions Asked because I just love the trope of uncertainty and obliviousness and pining in the middle of aokise.

30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Honestly? Say It. It was short and okay but like, plot-wise? Not sure if it deserved all the kindness it/I got XD

32) Are any of your characters based on real people?

I haven’t written any OCs in a while! I imagine one I get back to doing so, they could be :P

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

Not quite sure. I have shit memory sometimes aha, but all the support is good :D

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

On one of my first fics, which I’d written 24 chapters / 40K (GASP I KNOW :D IT’LL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN *SMILES THROUGH THE TEARS OF SAD*) I was told the other chapters should be deleted because it was so bad. But like, the reader had posted said criticism through at least half of the work so :P and a couple of chapters later, said, “This is better! But change everything before this.”I actually got a lot of help/reviews becasue I’d asked for them from various authors aha and fandom was popular and lively; the criticism just went straight through my ears I think. XD

35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

I like getting a second opinion if I’m insecure about the idea (often, you guessed right

36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s?

No.

jkjk :P I currently have 4 active WIPs. 1. SECRET (for fanzine :PP), 2. As Long As You Love Me (CJ’s prompt) 3. Some Stuff Has Actually Changed 4. Oops I Did It Again

37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written?

What is humor explain??!?!?

38) If you could collab with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it.

- You silly.- Roch + CJ- You, super lovely

39) Do you prefer first, second or third person?

3rd for the most of it. I’ve never written with 1st before but I’m considering it for a work that’d require an extensive cast. 2nd also strikes me as fun though, because of this angsty story I’d read where Kise was the narrator but done through 2nd? 2nd also seems very poetic and I’d like to try it out some day for fun :P

40) Do people know you write fanfiction?

Yeet :P

41) What’s you favourite minor character you’ve written?

Nijimura, Jellal, you name it XD all of them??? You know my tendency to avoid protagonists :P

42) Song fic - What made you decide to use the song Need You Now

It’s a quarter after one, I’m all alone and I need you nowSaid I wouldn’t call but I lost all control and I need you nowAnd I don’t know how I can do without, I just need you now

Angsty and perfect for pining ships.

43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?

LMAO I’ve never written a fic long enough for a plot twist to occur; B) I DON’T WRITE PLOT?? XD

44) What is the last line you wrote?

A victory, Kise should think, should be thinking. What is there instead is empathy, but sadness anyways. Oh Aominecchi…

45) What spurs you on during the writing process?

Not much. There are periods of time when I don’t want to write at all and I will find excuses of any kind to get off my laptop, or stay on, and just not write aha. What helps is typically at night when I feel semi-tired, I’ll be motivated to write enough to be a pleasant thought before bed.

46) I really loved your Try and Keep Trying fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it?

GoM have a Winter Cup Banquet and there’s alcohol there. AoKise has done a lot more pining and both gotten better at hiding it. They meet awkwardly at the event becuz of their friends talking to each of their friends and then suddenly disappearing while AoKise are startled, staring at each other. Cautious tense talk tried to be made easier by both of them; Kise makes a joke like, “Alcohol would make this a little easier, right Aominecchi?”

And Aomine blurts out stupid becuz high strung, smth like, “Is that what you thought the last time?”

AND THEN, Kise is also high strung right, so his reply is probably something dumb; maybe a few more lines and then:

KISE ACCIDENTALLY CALLS HIM ‘DAIKI’ AND THEY BOTH JUST FREEZE AND BLUSH PROFUSELY BC THEY’RE REMINDED OF THE KISS AND FDSJFS AHO REALIZES KISE DID N O T FORGET - and he’ quick to press Kise for an explanation but Kise is sure this is going to lead to heartbreak, that Aomine’s frantic (heart beating at 12432 beats a second) and desperate (to know becuz becuz if Kise- if Ryouta-) demands of Kise to tell him the truth are from a place of piss/fury. When Aomine realizes Kise is only shying away from his emotional cornering/words more and more, Aomine does the only thing he can think of and kisses Kise again and again and again.

Kise realizes he means it, Aomine is almost heartbroken over how Kise couldn’t understand he meant it; both are overwhelmingly overjoyed becuz c’mon. MUTUAL pining, not just pining :P and then THAT turns into cautious, hopeful, cautious prompts for dating.

47) Here’s a fic title - In the man behold a child

(Uni AU)Aomine pines after Kise’s ass and he constantly sends him is inviting him: “C’mon Kise, kiss me and I’ll shut up forever.” and “C’mon Kise, I’d be a great fuckbuddy. No string attached but sex. I’ll be gone immediately.”, lots of, “C’mon Kise. I’m fun. I’ll give you want you want, what you need.” and more earnest and genuine stuff, “I know I sound like I’m kidding, and maybe parts of me were…but I meant it when I said I love you. And I’ll wait until you finally hear I’m fully serious.”

Eventually, Kise comes to realize he is serious. The fact that Aomine really has matured as a person over time and that he really loves Kise. Who also realizes maybe a little bit of the fact that he’d never needed a real relationship because Aomine sort of checked off all the boxes; and so, (poetically aha; i thought of this at last moment XD) child Kise is also revealed in man Kise for being oblivious and little bit scared (because that’s what teens/kids are good at Aha?)

Ofc, then Kise finally says yes, though hesitant still; Aomine takes him slowly through love and all the good stuff :P

48) What’s your favourite trope to write?

Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining/Obliviousness & Uncertainty, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, anything with a slight of it’s hard and if we’re not being told we’re gonna make it through, how can i be reassured now that we will; but you’ve got friends to rely on so it’ll be okay OTHERWISE KNOWN AS Angst with a Happy Ending :P

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

Something from Warrior Cats

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

(Both both is good)

YOU CAN’T MAKE ME CHOOSE.

But like, if angst with a happy ending counts as angst??? Than that :PFluff is good but you have to have a reason that makes it even sweeter :P

#ruyota~#sourinralia #answered asks #stuff about me #:P #aoki

5 notes · View notes

silvmoonsky · 3 years

Text

Fanfiction Year In Review: 2020

Thank you for the tag, @ladyofthenoodle! This is going to take some time to do, haha, so uh, here we go?

1) List of completed fics

81/86 of my fics have been completed! Here are the completed ones (all of which are for Miraculous Ladybug):

2) Number of words written

According to AO3, I’ve published 224,900k words in 2020! However, I have written closer to 250k, which is a combination of WIPs, abandoned fics, and stories I’ve written for outside of this fandom.

3) Most popular

My most popular by hits is Oh, What A Tale. It currently is sitting at 8184 hits and 589 kudos. This was expected because it is my only finished multi-chaptered fic. My most popular by kudos is In A Good Way. it currently is sitting at 4652 hits and 654 kudos. I did not expect this fic to be this popular, but I can see why it is!

4) Personal favorite

Oh, this is hard! I’m just going to link my Top 5 Of 2020 post. I love all of these fics very much, so they’re all among my favorites.

5) Favorite scene

This is also very hard! I’m going to say the first chapter in Wistfully In Love With You, which this the part where Marinette is having a nightmare. It was a hard scene to write, but I am proud of how it turned out.

6) A fic/scene that challenged you

I’m going to say In The Rain for this one. I’ve struggled with a lot of fics, but I struggled with this one in particular because it is a pairing I haven’t written before. Additionally, I had trouble with the prompt. But I’m very proud of the end result, and how I managed to make everything work!

7) A line you’re proud of

This line is the first that comes to mind! It’s more than one line, haha, but I am proud of it.

The party in front of him blurs together, becoming a puddle in his eyes. He feels his shoulders shaking, and suddenly, moisture begins to drip down his cheeks. [...] His hands tremble, and suddenly, he feels himself gasping. He’s gasping as though he’s drowning, desperately needing to come up to the surface, but he can’t breathe, he needs air but can barely grasp it, and something inside him shatters as he realizes this won’t change and it’s always going to be this way and he’s alone, alone, alone—

8) A touching comment

I’ve gotten tons of touching comments that I am super grateful for! However, as soon as I saw this question, this is the comment that came to mind. It still makes me laugh whenever I think of it!

[image: AO3 comment. Text says: “AHHHFHDJAKALALDJDJKALALSKDNFNCNSNWHJWLAKDNFKZLA HOW ARE PEOFOPEL ANLE TO FORM ACTUAL SENTENCES AFTER THAT??? MY BRAIN IS MUSH I AM SCREAMING FLUFFY FLUFF YES I AHHHHH I THINK I MIGHT BE IN LOVE WITH YOU COOL? OKAY BYE! CHAT IS NEVER GOING TO LEAVE THAT ROOF TOP”]

9) Something that inspired your writing

Quite a few people have! My friends, both in and out of this fandom, are definitely the people who inspire me the most <3 Other than them, other creators also inspire me! Finally, my family - even I don’t necessarily share my writing with them, haha - inspire me all the time.

10) Proudest accomplishment

For stepping out of my comfort zone and actually sharing my writing! Before 2020, I had so much trouble writing more than 1,000 words at a time. The main reason I started writing so much was because I wanted to build my writing stamina, and I thought, “if I’m going to write this much, why not share it?” So I did, and I’ve been blown away by the support I’ve received.

11) Writing goals for 2021

I don’t really have any at the moment, to be honest! I don’t think I’ll write as much as I did in 2020, but I hope that I can continue creating content I will proud of <3

I’m not going to tag anyone, but whoever wants to is free to do this!

#tag game #silv speaks #personal #silv writes

0 notes

thedeadflag · 7 years

Text

Looking For the Magic (Pt 2)

Tentative title for Option B, the magical Witch Fic WIP one-shot I’ve been struggling to finish. I’ll be posting blocks of this with the tags #lookingforthemagic and #witchfic, in case you don’t want a few thousand words muddying up your dash. I think mobile still doesn’t use the ‘read more’ function, so I figure this would be as good a workaround for folks.

Content Warning (for the story as a whole): transphobia, cissexism, physical assault, misogyny, sexual content

(Part 1) Part 2 under the cut.

10 months later

Anya hated annual gatherings of the covens. They were always loud, busy, and far too political for her to stomach when all she wanted to do was enjoy the solstice. Attendance was generally mandatory, however, so having Lexa at her side was at least a small comfort.

Usually, Lexa would stay with her fiancée, but apparently Costia was staying elsewhere, leaving them to use Lexa's small cabin a few miles from the gathering site. It was a step up from a hotel, where she could run into those she butted heads with or who held ill will towards her.

After all, with her history, she didn't exactly have many friends.

"How long do I have to be present for, tomorrow?" Anya asked again, knowing the number, but just wanting another verbal confirmation. It helped when it wasn't just her running the numbers over and over again.

"Should only be five hours you'll have to stay for. Might reach seven, but unlikely, so long as Costia's schedule runs tightly." Lexa restated for about the fourteenth time since they started the road trip together. "With the grounds as large as they are, and your abilities, and the number of witches that will be there, there's no reason you'll have to encounter Clarke any longer than is absolutely necessary."

It would be a refreshing change after the last few events, like back in October where they'd literally brawled after having been stuck in the same area for a little under two hours. As much as she hated to admit, the other blonde had a mean left hook, and with the rest of her powers, her nemesis might one day get the better of her.

"Good. The last thing anyone needs is me putting her up in flames instead of burning her with my wit." Anya admitted, knowing that as much as the idea could seem palatable on rare occasions of severe frustration or hardship, it'd end up with her exile from the coven, and blood on her hands. Clarke certainly wouldn't appreciate dying, and Lexa would lose a friend in the woman as well, as unlikely and upsetting as that friendship was.

Kicking every square inch of Clarke's perfectly round ass after another potential attempt to poison her? Fine. Killing her? Not so much. With how things were escalating between them, Anya wasn't sure their next blow-up wouldn't end with someone being maimed. If things got much worse, they could both eventually get killed. And like hell if she'd come up on the losing end of that, but it'd be terrible anyways, regardless of her feelings.

Not that she still had feelings for Clarke that weren't involved with the vitriolic fury she felt for the woman. That would be absurd. Ridiculous. Masochistic, perhaps.

"Don't be so dramatic, Anya, it doesn't suit you." Lexa snarked from the driver's seat. "Besides, violence is the last thing we need between you both. It's long since gotten ridiculous, and I know you don't like fighting with her."

"I've told you before, I didn't start the fire." Anya insisted, making the executive decision to ignore Lexa's quip about her past feelings for the woman. Key word being 'past'. Sure, she hated fighting with Clarke, it brought up memories she wanted to forget, and she much preferred fighting people who were putting humanity at risk, not some aggravating blonde from her coven who she was supposed to protect, if anything.

Sure, she could appreciate how Clarke's hair always looked perfect, how every time Clarke laughed her eyes got as warm as a summer afternoon, and how the sheer sound of the woman's laughter could have her heart blooming with fondness. She could appreciate that Clarke was creatively diplomatic even without using her affinity, striking a keen balance between kind and ruthless that was remarkably efficient, and showed off the woman's clear intelligence and wit. She could appreciate a lot of things about Clarke, but it didn't change that the woman almost killed her, literally, and that kind of put a damper on any feelings she might have hypothetically had for her.

So perhaps she didn't like fighting with Clarke, but it wasn't like she could just let her guard down and allow Clarke to kill her. Anya wouldn't roll over and die just because Clarke Griffin desired it.

Her words earned a quick, heavy sigh from her cousin. "Please don't start in with the musical puns. You know I can't handle them." Lexa said, helping Anya realize that she almost made a Billy Joel pun without thinking about it. She was almost proud of herself.

"Shut up, you love it." Anya was about to throw out another pun when they made their way into a small clearing, a cottage nestled in at the edge of the tree line.

Lexa slowed and pulled into the short driveway, stopping just shy of the front porch. As soon as Anya had the door open, Lexa's cell rang. Her cousin lifted a finger and took the call as Anya stepped out, waiting for the other woman to finish up, Lexa only letting out mumbled words and tiny sighs. If Anya had to guess, something wasn't going to plan with the gathering's prep.

Lexa pocketed her phone with a huff, staring hard at the wheel for a moment before flitting those green eyes' Anya's way. "Nia Frost sabotaged the herbs for tomorrow morning's ritual. I'm going to have to travel back to Costia's storage shed to grab replacements for what they couldn't salvage."

Nia Frost was a royal pain in their asses, constantly sabotaging gatherings and other events in hopes that enough instability would shift favor for her to call for a vote and use her reputation and history on the council to unseat Lexa as the head of the coven.

Sure, it'd never happen, but it made just about every major event a damn nuisance to manage. "You want me to come with?"

"Nah. Stay here. I shouldn't be more than two hours." Lexa offered with a flick of her wrist. "Get food started, I know you're hungry, and I made sure to stock up."

Anya didn't need to be told twice, her stomach having been rumbling for the past half hour.

The cottage was small, with an open concept kitchen-slash-living room, along with a bathroom, and two bedrooms. Just cozy enough to be her style without feeling too cramped for two people.

She quickly dropped her bags by the living room couch and made her way to the kitchen to get a handle on what kind of food they had on hand. It only took a moment for her to decide to make a pizza bread bowl.

Nothing wrong with getting the weekend off to a tasty start.

"I'm really looking forward to this. God, it's been what, four months since we've had a weekend alone together?" Clarke asked, watching the trees blur by. "I mean, you know I love Lexa, but it's nice to just have some one on one time with you, Costia."

"I feel that, I've missed hanging out with you too, Clarke. It'll be nice to finally catch up." Costia answered, smiling at the incoming text on her HUD telling her that Lexa just dropped off the necessary herbs. "And really, I think Lexa and Anya needed some time alone this weekend. Anya hasn't been in a good place for a while."

"When has she ever? She's always been a frosty bitch. Even as a kid." Clarke shot back, instincts not quite reaching the better part of her brain fast enough to cut off her words. "You know what I mean, she only ever hung out with Lexa as a kid. And no one liked her pert little butt when she came around again. I don't even know why she stuck here after the whole vote debacle."

Costia's sigh was predictable. Honestly, the woman had a heart of gold and the patience of a saint. That was the only rational explanation for Costia's soft spot for Anya. "I know you hate her, Clarke, but she's had a raw deal."

"You know people can hate her for good reason, not because of what she is. Deep down, she's not a good person, she's not trustworthy. You reap what you sow." Clarke argued, sinking back into her seat, trying to ignore that tiny part of her brain that help whispering that she was wrong, trying to slow her breathing and control her temper. Costia hated when she got angry, and while Anya was a point of fury for her, the least she could do for her friend was remain mostly calm.

"I've told you before about my thoughts. That hasn't changed. All I can hope is that you two don't nearly kill yourselves this weekend." Costia stated rather diplomatically.

Clarke grumbled and stared back out the window, knowing she probably looked petulant, but not quite caring when it was all she could do to contain her emotions at her recollection of the gathering in late October. "She threw the first punch last time around."

"Because you poisoned her drink." Her friend shot back easily, only adding fuel to the fire that her memory brought back.

"Because she soaked and froze my cowl!"

"That was a full four hours before she arrived."

"So you say, but you don't know, because she arrived alone in October."

"You know Ontari does that to people all the time. She did it to me last year as a simple prank."

Clarke let out a huff and reached across the median to grab at Costia's arm. "Look, we're only going to get upset, so let's change the subject. What are we having for dinner?"

Costia let out a hard laugh. "We'll just wait and see what we've got, honestly. Lexa did the grocery shopping for us, so who even knows with her, especially at this time of the year?"

Just hearing about grocery shopping had her stomach growling. She supposed that was the price of not eating for over half a day. Clarke was about to whine about having to wait when they found their way out of the forest, slowing as they made their way up a curved driveway, stopping at the front porch.

The moment Costia shifted the SUV into park, the woman's phone went off. Clarke kept her gaze on her friend as Costia pulled her phone free and answered the call.

"Hey, Lexa, what's...oh...she what? She did WHAT?! I...oh cheese and crackers, okay...okay, yeah. We just got here so I can...yeah. Convene the council, yeah, we can finally cut her off. I know...I know...it'll be okay. I will. See you soon." Costia spoke, giving Clarke the distinct feeling that Nia Frost did something again, if not by her words then the sheer frustration and exhaustion written across Costia's face.

"What happened?" Clarke asked, patiently waiting as Costia gathered her thoughts.

"Nia Frost set fire to some of the coven's artifacts, and some of her supposed acolytes attacked a few new initiates to the coven. We're convening the council to pass judgment on her." Costia let out, following her words with a heavy sigh as she glanced at Clarke apologetically. "I have to go do this, but I promise I'll be back in two, three hours. Is that okay?"

Clarke rolled her eyes and pulled Costia into a hug. "Of course it is. We have a shot at finally being rid of that devil woman. Finish up over there, I'll have something for you to eat when you get back."

"You're a life saver, Clarke. I'll see you soon." Her friend called out as Clarke exited the vehicle and shut the passenger door. She waved Costia off as the SUV reversed out of the driveway and headed back into the forest.

As soon as it was out of sight, she headed up to the cottage and let herself in, shutting the door behind her. Clarke was just finishing taking off her boots when it registered that she could hear footsteps heading her way, no attempt to mask their sound by the owner.

"Hey, I didn't hear you pull up. How'd it go with the..." Anya spoke, freezing on the spot as she rounded the corner and came into view, Clarke already having stilled at the sound of her enemy's voice.

It was that little bit of extra notice that had her tossing down one of her spell-bombs full of the ingredients to cast her usual hex, boosting her affinity to where she could take on a fellow witch with any sort of advantage. She was just reaching towards Anya when the woman lifted a slender hand, palm up, the same motion she used to channel heat into a fireball.

Except there was no fire a half second later, or a full second later, or two seconds later, regardless of Anya's incantations. Not wanting to miss the opportunity that was being handed to her, Clarke put all her focus on Anya and channeled her abilities. "Do not move except for breathing and blinking, Anya."

Clarke waited a few seconds to gauge if her spell worked, the woman still and silent at the entrance to the kitchen. Cautiously, she approached, stepping into her nemesis' personal space, raising a hand to the woman's cheeks. Soft, freshly moisturized...lovely...she thought aimlessly, before snapping her focus back into place. All the better to slap... She corrected, giving the woman's cheeks a few light smacks.

Not even a flinch.

The laughter that escaped her was unbidden, but it was hard to care when, for whatever reason, Anya was powerless, and she had full control, at least until her spell wore off. It wasn't even her birthday for another three weeks.

Clarke stepped past Anya as she finally began to register the glorious smells coming from the kitchen, now that her fear was fading. She crouched in front of the oven and stared in through the small window at the food being prepped. "Oh goddess, I haven't had pizza in months. You shouldn't have."

It took a moment for it all to sink in, but Clarke rose from her knees and turned towards Anya. "You thought you were staying here with Lexa. I thought I was staying with Costia." She spoke as she put together her thoughts, trying to figure out what was going on. Clarke looked around and found a window in the kitchen. As she suspected, as she pulled at it, there was no opening it. It only took a few seconds to check the front door, the slab of wood not budging in the least. They were warded in, clearly Costia's doing. "Well...I guess it'll be the two of us for a while. Just like old times, huh?"

She shoulder-checked Anya on her way back to the kitchen. Without any control over her body, the woman tumbled sharply to the ground in a heap. "You didn't mind the floor back then. I'm sure you'll get comfy down there, Anya." Clarke added as she checked the timer for the pizza. Four minutes. "I don't know why they set us up like this, but them cutting off your powers and allowing me mine? Looks like your cousin finally chose a side. I don't blame her."

After all, Clarke wasn’t the one who had nearly torn the coven in half almost a full year ago. It wasn't Clarke who was so malicious as to disclose a very personal secret about another witch in the coven just to start drama and try to get a leg up, harming that witch's reputation almost irreparably.

Anya only had herself to blame.

And Clarke? Well, she had a feeling she was going to have a decent evening.

Anya lay crumpled on the hardwood floors, nose pressed uncomfortably against the ground from the awkward distribution of weight after she'd fallen. She'd maybe feel a bit humiliated if her heart wasn't already completely full of anger.

There were far too many things to be angry about to feel humiliated.

"Oh my goddess, this is delicious. Maybe you have one redeeming quality, I'll give you that." Clarke moaned, clearly enjoying the pizza bread bowl Anya had been looking forward to. It was agony knowing Clarke was enjoying the food she'd made for herself and Lexa.

It was agony knowing she was stuck in the cottage with Clarke, some harebrained plan of Lexa and Costia's for whatever reason. It was agony that she was powerless while Clarke could flaunt her abilities freely.

It was agony not knowing how to exit the situation. It was agony knowing that she was at Clarke's mercy.

Hell, it was agony how appealing Clarke's voice alone could be if she wasn't paying attention to the sheer hatred it directed at her.

And all of that agony only made Anya angrier and angrier, seething with a colossal fury that lay roiling under her placid exterior.

"Don't worry, I'll leave you leftovers for when you're feeling up to eating. Maybe I'll even set you up on the couch since the second bedroom is warded off." Clarke snarked, footsteps trailing into the living room area. "By now you must be feeling betrayed. I know I would."

Anya slowed her blink and tried to focus as she fought to will herself out of Clarke's control. It was all for naught, but Clarke only had so many pre-prepped little spell orb things. Probably only enough to last a day or maybe a little more. Patience had never been Anya's greatest virtue, but this time around, she'd make it work.

And sure, betrayal was something that had crossed her mind, but she knew Lexa. Lexa wouldn't do that. Lexa wouldn't send her to her death. Lexa wouldn't choose Clarke over family.

So no, she didn't feel betrayed by Lexa. Not that she could relay that to Clarke and interrupt the girl's monologue. There was a reason for everything, she just didn't understand it all yet. "See, I know the feeling. It's like a poison, burning through your stomach lining and up your esophagus, bleeding out to corrode your lungs and heart while it steals your words, until there's nothing but tears and anger left." Her nemesis continued with more than a little bite in her tone.

If she had the power to roll her eyes, she would have. After all, what did Clarke know about betrayal? The woman was a well-loved and immensely beautiful prodigy with rare abilities that the coven coveted. Clarke was practically bred for power, only suffering a minor stumble or two en route to where she was now.

Clarke wasn't the one who had been betrayed by someone she thought could be a friend, leading to a landmark vote that would have exiled her had Lexa not made a number of political promises to ensure a majority ruling in Anya's favor. Clarke wasn't the one who was openly betrayed by about half of her coven. Clarke wasn't the one who had her womanhood and connection to the Goddess attacked and doubted.

Whatever Clarke knew about betrayal, the other blonde was still to blame for Anya's hardships. She was still the reason why Anya was no longer well accepted in the coven, and probably never would be.

"I figure I'll let you stew on that. But there's plenty of night ahead of us. Don't get too comfortable down there." Clarke called out, making Anya hope that she'd be out of the other woman's control sooner rather than later. She'd just need to be smart about it when she did.

Hopefully, when opportunity came calling, she'd be able to take advantage. Otherwise, she was well and truly fucked.

All things considered, pizza really did make everything better. She was trapped in an enclosed space with her nemesis, all her history right up in her face, not sure when she'd be free. But damn if the pizza wasn't tasty enough to bring a smile to her face even in the worst of times.

At least she could low-key torment Anya, though. Being friends with Lexa had a lot of perks on top of the woman being a wonderful individual, but it gave a glimpse into their coven leader's relationships, including some pet peeves. Learning that Anya hated Costia's favourite guilty pleasure, One Tree Hill, was something that had pretty easily embedded itself into her long term memory.

And besides, while it was arguably the most heterosexual show she'd watched in years, it was a little comically outdated, and had some cute actors and actresses. So marathoning it while enjoying Anya's pizza was a nice little twist.

"I didn't know you could shoot pool."

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

"The writing on this show is so cheesy, don't you think, Anya?" Clarke asked taking another bite of a long cooled off slice of the pizza bowl. "Always pushing for cliffhangers and manufacturing drama out of the blue. Creating this big love triangle between Lucas, his brother, and Peyton, and resolving it, only to start one with him, Peyton, and this other chick. Brooke, I think. Honestly, I understand why you hate it so much...but I kind of still want to know what happens."

"Like what?"

"Like...I love it in the summer when there's heat lightning at night..."

Clarke turned enough to peer over the couch at the heap of Anya's body a few feet away, eyes maybe lingering on how Anya's ass was raised into the air a little from the way she'd fallen. "You could probably do that on a good day, couldn't you? With those fancy elemental spells of yours?" Clarke asked, letting out a laugh at the thought of Anya's eyes going white like Storm from X-Men. "You'd probably rather spend your energy trying to strike me down instead."

There was a time when Clarke thought differently of her nemesis. When she'd actually thought Anya was good enough to have even a shred of empathy. "You know, I think this is the first time I've had you trapped and silent for any real length of time. Gotta say it's a nice change of pace."

Clarke paused the show and rotated around to peer straight out at Anya, or at least her lump of a body. "Usually we're arguing or fighting, throwing punches, all that stuff. Maybe this could be useful." She started, taking a sip of her water before continuing. "See, I've wracked my brain for ages, and I still don't understand why you hated me enough to do what you did. Did you know what you'd find when you called me over, or were you just looking for weaknesses that night?"

Clarke set her drink down and propped herself up on her elbows on the couch backrest. "Because I really was freezing cold that night. I was scared of what would happen either way, and the c...this girl waves me over, convinces me to share her blankets, warms me up...literally." Clarke continued, knowing she was making herself vulnerable by speaking in such detail, but maybe some closure would help. Maybe finally talking about the elephant in the room would help. Anya not being able to interrupt her or argue back did make it easier. "You amazed me that night. The girl who was always cold and abrasive to everyone was sweet with me. Stared up so softly at me, with so much warmth. Showed so much patience. And despite all the alarm bells ringing in my head, I wanted to believe I'd found someone who could be safe. Who I wouldn't have to be worried about. Who I could completely let in one day, for once in my life."

Clarke rubbed at her eyes, all those old emotions suddenly so fresh, vibrant enough to bring on a swell of tears. "But it was all an act for you. I didn't think anyone could be so heartless to fake all of that so well, with such ruthlessness and..."

"...up shut up shut..." The low sound of mumbling from across the room had her voice catching in her throat and her hand reaching for another of her orbs. "Shit...body's stiff as hell. But seriously, shut the fuck up about that night. You know nothing." Anya bit out as she very slowly rolled onto her back, tongue wetting her lips as she winced in pain.

Whether it was Anya finally breaking through her control after a few long hours, or the woman refusing to take responsibility for what she did, Clarke suddenly found her heart racing and adrenaline pumping, a ten month old fury coursing through her veins. She was off the couch in a second.

The first kick to Anya's midsection wasn't nearly satisfying enough despite sending her nemesis groaning and physically reeling. "I know everything, Anya! I always have, so what exactly is it that you're hiding from, huh?" She asked, glaring down at her nemesis as she swung her leg hard at Anya, the woman just barely rolling out of the way enough to minimize the impact. "Make a miscalculation? Use the wrong person as a stepping stool to power?"

Clarke took hold of Anya's jacket from the back and barreled her into the kitchen island with a heavy crash. With all of the furniture apparently protected by Costia's wards, Anya's head and shoulder collided with a surface with zero percent give, the impact bringing a sharp cry of pain from her nemesis' throat.

"How could you? I was scared, and vulnerable, and you just saw a damned mark!" Clarke yelled, lifting her gaze to the ceiling, unable to look at Anya for fear that she'd go even further off the handle than she already was. "How could you tell everyone about my sexsomnia after you promised?! You promised me! You were the first person to tell me it wasn't my fault! That I wasn't disgusting or wrong! And it was all a lie! Seven months of taunts and slut shaming and for what?! Did you and your friends get a good laugh in? 'Poor Clarke, the coven's sl...'"

Suddenly, she was stumbling and falling backwards, head bouncing off the cupboard under the sink. She'd been too busy verbally railing on Anya to realize the woman had angled her body to go on the attack. Knowing the combat prowess of her nemesis, Clarke braced for impact, raising her arms to cover her head, but one, two, three seconds passed without an attack.

Clarke lowered her hands quickly enough to watch Anya stagger off towards the bedroom. It was the first time in her history of knowing Anya that she'd seen the woman do anything resembling a retreat.

"Anya! Anya come back here! We're not done!" Clarke yelled out as she got to her feet and chased after her nemesis, just reaching the bedroom doorway as the lock slipped into place. Not thinking, she pounded at the door, immediately recoiling her hand in pain from how hard and unforgiving the surface was. "Anya, you know if I want to, I can make you open this door!"

Clarke felt like she was standing on the edge of a knife as she waited for a response; for the door to open, for Anya to yell back, anything.

There was something happening on the other side of the door, she could hear a small, muffled sound, but she couldn't make out what it was. "Anya, come out here or let me in, your choice."

Clarke heard three dull thumps and then a long stretch of silence. She was breathless in anticipation, waiting, waiting, waiting, until the click of the lock disengaged. Clarke wasn't sure why she hesitated, hand shaking over the handle of the door for a moment before she turned and pushed it open.

There were a lot of things she expected to see when she opened the door. Hell, she maybe expected a punch or a kick, or even Anya rushing to tackle her to the ground.

Anya standing a few feet away, looking ready to go to war with a kitchen knife in her hand immediately had Clarke reaching for one of her spell orbs, but she found her hand hovering over it when she caught Anya's gaze.

Anya's flat expression hardly concealed the anguish in her eyes. As ready as Anya looked for a fight on a physical level, barring the dropped wounded shoulder and limply hanging bad arm of course, Clarke knew that when the fight left an opponent's eyes, it was over.

That left a pressing question: what the hell happened between the kitchen and the woman escaping into the bedroom?

Ten months.

All Anya could see when she looked into Clarke's wary blue eyes was nearly a year of misplaced aggression. Nearly a year of pain and sorrow that should have been avoided. Ten months entirely wasted because it was a complete mistake they'd been manipulated into. Almost a lethal one.

For ten months, Anya had wondered what had made Clarke snap and try relentlessly to ruin her life, and to learn what it was all about had her realizing that she wasn't who Clarke wanted to hurt, but she'd been hurt anyways. She'd lost time, energy, health, and a budding friendship.

She'd been a proxy for all the pain and suffering someone else deserved to feel, and as much as Clarke had wounded her, Anya understood betrayal. And Anya understood that with every second that passed, Clarke would come to intimately understand the truth of it all.

It didn't erase the past, and it didn't erase any of the trauma and isolation Anya had suffered across the past year, but she finally had some context. And finally, she might get some of her own answers. She chose, for the moment, to focus on whoever was responsible, even if she didn't have a name for them yet, because it almost certainly wasn't Clarke. Just the way the woman spoke about her younger self had her feeling decently confident about that.

But even with all of that in mind, Clarke had always been a wildcard, so she had to be ready for a fight if it came. And if Clarke decided to use her power, then at least she would have gotten a hit in.

"What are you waiting for? Where's the fire from October?!" Clarke yelled, voice shaking as she took a step forward.

Anya waited until she was free enough from pain to speak steadily, keeping her breaths shallow to help ease the load on her ribs, knowing they were bruised at least. "I have honor, Clarke. I have never disclosed a secret in my life."

"Honor?!" Clarke blurted out with a hard laugh. "You punched me out of the blue last year!"

"You poisoned me. Made an attempt on my life. I was defending myself." Anya let out slowly before dropping the knife. It was getting a little heavy, and she had no use for it anyways.

Apparently, that was the wrong move, Clarke quickly dropping one of her orbs to the ground, shattering it and taking in the resulting fumes. "Pick up the knife, Anya."

Against her will, she felt her body move to a kneel and grab the knife. "Clarke, you aren't an imbecile, you..."

"Put it half an inch from your carotid. Keep it there." Clarke ordered, her good arm doing as it was told just as Anya willed herself back to her feet. "Don't come any closer."

"Wasn't planning to." A tired grunt escaped her as she slumped down onto the bed, feeling nearly all her energy leave her. "Real enemy's out there. Can't keep doing this."

"It couldn't be anyone else, Anya, you were the only one I..." Clarke insisted fervently, but Anya couldn't hear it. She couldn't take the vitriol being aimed at the girl she was a year ago, so full of hope and yearning for connection. Whoever or whatever she was now, her younger self was innocent and deserved better.

"Please don't..." Anya interjected, letting out a sigh before meeting Clarke's gaze again, stilling the advancing blonde in her tracks. "Don't talk about back then. I would never have...just don't."

Clarke shook her head angrily, even if a shaky hand went to run itself through blonde hair. "No, no, it had to be you, it had to be!"

"Clarke, I would never have hurt you. It was my duty to take care of you, I would never break that oath unless I was defending myself." She let out slowly and carefully, staring up at glossy panicked eyes. Eyes that only grew wider at her words. Goddess, why do her eyes have to be so damn pretty?

"No, you don't understand! If it wasn't you, then...then I've been hurting you for no reason! For...fuck, for almost a year, Anya!" Clarke yelled, tears of her own spilling down her cheeks as Anya swallowed hard and nodded. "If not you, then who was it?!"

Anya let out a tired huff and flopped backward onto the bed. "Pretty sure I'm concussed, Clarke. It stings when I breathe. Don't ask me to think right now." She shot back slowly, taking another painful swallow. "Someone would have had to have...have hearing abilities. Or...had to be invisible. Dunno."

"No one in the coven has any abilities or spells that enhance hearing, that's rare. And no...wait..." Clarke's rapid words stilled, violently catching in the blonde's throat, sending Clarke physically reeling backwards into a dresser. "Oh god, Echo..."

Anya's brain wasn't working at optimal capacity, needing an extra second or two, but she remembered the gangly girl with the dark circles under her eyes. A bit of a loner, later Nia Frost's acquaintance. Sort of creepy, the woman was mostly assigned work outside of their region. Anya had assumed it was diplomatic, to improve Echo's social skills as she'd had to endure herself once upon a time at her old coven, but they could have been more focused on subterfuge. She thought she recalled that Echo could essentially teleport, but if it was actually the woman going invisible then there was a very different story playing out.

"Echo was in the bed closest to us. If she heard something and got up...and...oh goddess..." Clarke spoke, hand lifting to cover her mouth as her eyes glistened. Anya could sense Clarke reaching out to touch her before the other blonde moved a muscle.

"Don't touch me." Anya bit out as Clarke's hand descended towards her thigh. "All I need is...is an honest answer. To one question. I need you to think...really hard about it. Take your time and think back."

She stared up at Clarke, who, while entirely panicked and frazzles and practically emanating guilt and remorse, nodded along easily. "I'm ready."

"Did you out me?" She asked, ignoring Clarke's instinctual gasp and pushing past it. "Did...did you say anything that could have...maybe let someone suspect I was trans?"

Clarke just stared down at her, teary-eyed and mouth agape, as if she'd accused the woman of something monstrous. Well, sure, perhaps she halfway did, but if her question was filling in the blanks that Clarke's comments from earlier had with her, then maybe they were finally getting somewhere.

"Anya, I'm bi." Clarke stated sharply, as if that meant anything. She just raised an eyebrow at her fellow witch. "I would never out someone who shared something like that with me! How could you even think that?!"

Anya rolled her head to the side to face the pillows, feeling just about ready for some rest. "Bi people can be transphobic, Clarke. LGBT people can out each other, it happens all the time. Especially cis folks outing us. You...you were angry with me then. Wouldn't explain why you kept lashing out at me, so I didn't understand why, but you were. And then I was being called in to face the council and have my...my womanhood called into question, Clarke. It was admittedly an easy math equation...given you were the only one I'd told outside of Lexa and you were suddenly after my throat."

"Well, I didn't!" Clarke argued, that fact having already become clear to her.

Anya swallowed and let out a heavy breath. "Let's not forget you came to the same conclusion about me. So can you at least let me drop the knife and leave me alone?"

"Oh my goddess, I rescind any hold I have on you." Clarke blurted out, letting Anya toss the knife backwards, using her remaining energy to crawl up the bed and settle her head on a pillow. Credit to Costia for making Lexa buy such good bedding. "Anya..."

"Please leave..." It was with pure force of will that she managed to get the words out, the pain and exhaustion becoming too much for her to manage.

She heard shuffling behind her, her back turned to Clarke and all, but it was clear that the woman wasn't leaving the room. Instead, she watched blearily as Clarke rounded the bed and crawled up beside her, holding out a small flask. "I learned to carry these around a few years ago. It should help you heal."

Anya closed her eyes. "Don't make me beg any more than I already have, Clarke..."

"I'll leave you alone. Forever, if you want, just...just take this. I'm so sorry, and I need you to be okay, and...just please. Even if you're done with begging, I'm not. Please." Clarke pleaded, holding out the small wooden flask.

If it would get Clarke to go so she could mourn in peace, then so be it. She reached out and, after studying the flask for a moment, tilted her head enough to down the container's worth of liquid, wincing at the harsh bitter taste.

"I'm so sorry, Anya. I'm...I just..." Clarke stammered out before rushing off the bed, stopping just after the door frame. "I can speak words, but promises can't make you trust that I won't hurt you again. I only hope you'll let me prove that to you."

Anya shut her eyes and swallowed back the tears, wondering what might have been if not for the past year. It hurt hearing her old words repeated back to her, but maybe it was an olive branch. Maybe it was an attempt to make things right. Maybe it was a bit of hope that they could move past the pain and suffering between them towards something better.

Whatever it was, it had words tumbling out of her mouth that maybe Clarke hadn't earned yet, but maybe...deep down...she had faith the other blonde could live up to them and earn that trust, eventually.

"You can be a good person again, Clarke. Stop feeling guilty, start proving you're the woman you thought you were." Anya responded, voice weak and shaking. The resulting sob from the doorway, the careful shutting of the door, and fading footsteps all told her that it was safe now.

She was safe to let go now.

The weight of ten months of pain, ostracism, and failure was enormous, but maybe she had the time, maybe she had the space to let it all go as she clutched a nearby pillow and screamed into it.

Not ten months' worth. Not yet.

#witchfic #lookingforthemagic #clanya fanfiction #clanya

3 notes · View notes

theawkwardterrier · 7 years

Text

Fic roundup 2016

Buffyverse All Work The Closing Distance To Question, Squirrels and Books

Gilmore Girls Heads, Hands

Harry Potter (Enough Misadventures) To Last A Lifetime The Biting Yesterdays In the Neighbourhood As Yourself

Leverage Sanctuary Space In the Gray Light

MCU The Madcap Underground Withdraw Their Shining The Job At Hand This Bright Future Homemakers Stand Together Burdens Had The Question At Hand All the Days Woman Borne With Gentleness and Time Duty Bound Like Gravity

The Newsroom A Rousing Debate

Veronica Mars Untitled celebrity/fan AU The Blown Job

1. Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?: Considering I didn’t write a damn word for nearly half the year, much much more. I was super surprised when I did a “last 20 fics” thing in October-ish, and found that they were all in 2016. And I also feel like I actually got a decent balance between longer oneshots, little snippets, and at least one decently sized (for me) chapter fic. It also helped that I got less anxious about asking for prompts, and people were nice enough to step up and give them to me.

2. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?: I never ever would have expected Steve/Peggy and the MCU to take over my life and my writing as completely as it did. I have literally no concrete memory of how it happened, but suddenly they were just there, and I’ve found them honestly delightful to both read and write.

3. What’s your own favorite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest? Homemakers. Homemakers. All day, every day. It’s just the right level of fluff, sounds authentic enough, flowed nicely, has humor and sweetness and a solid relationship and a plot but also a bit of a “glimpse into the life” thing. One hundred percent. Homemakers.

4. Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? Started writing Woman Borne even though The Ninety-Nine Percent had burned me out so badly. Finished writing Woman Borne even as I realized that I likely wasn’t equipped to do so. On the one hand, I’m proud of the way I handled the act of writing and posting it- I remembered to finish the whole thing ahead of time, I had it read over at an early stage to see if I should keep going and then had it read when it was complete by someone lovely and knowledgeable, I looked over each chapter before posting and made edits if they felt necessary rather than feeling that what I’d written had to dictate the way it would go- but I don’t think I would write something so heavy and controversial and out of my personal experience like that in the near future. Although the readers were overall lovely, it was stressful as heck.

5. Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year? Just, keep writing. If I could finish a few of my WIPs, that would be nice (especially the Very Large Cameron/Chase one) but I’m pretty satisfied to take things as they come. I think my experience with The Blown Job this year was actually really helpful to me- it was a fairly old WIP, one that I’d put down as a goal to finish this year, and without even pushing myself to do it, I just picked it up and chipped away at it until it was done. It just needed to rest in my folder and in my brain for a while, and when it was ready to be done, I finished it.

6. From my past year of writing, what was… Story Most Underappreciated by the Universe: I think that things mostly got noticed in proportion to how they deserved to be noticed- Woman Borne is long so it got more, Homemakers is actually pretty good so it got props even though it was shorter- but some of my smaller fics sort of sank without a ripple. Part of it is my fault because I’m terrible at self-promo, so they were posted once on tumblr, and maybe on AO3, but I feel awkward trying to be noticed, which means that they weren’t. I’m tempted to say Head, Hands, which was my first Rory/Logan story in a while; or either of my Parker/Hardison attempts, but in the end I think I have to go with Like Gravity, which was my last fic of the year and my Steggy Secret Santa story. I don’t know if it was weird tumblr stuff or if the unevenness really put people off, but I didn’t think it was a bad story and it just seemed to go gently into the fanfic ether.

Most Fun: I think The Job At Hand. Homemakers came out so smoothly and I really liked writing all the showgirls in Stand Together, but there’s just something about the hilarious frustration of trying to keep Steve Rogers under control.

Most Disappointing: Maybe In the Neighbourhood, which was my first Ron/Hermione story. I think the characterization was okay but nothing stellar, the writing wasn’t spectacular, and the situation was a little basic. Overall, it was serviceable but lacked any kind of sparkle.

Actually, I take it back. As Yourself, one of my Lily/James fics. The idea is good and even the individual elements are good. I’m really proud of the title, too: it refers both to the quote “love your neighbor as yourself” and the theme of presenting yourself honestly. But the pacing is all wrong. I rushed it, and it shows.

Most Sexy: Oh good gosh. For years I have been answering these questions and I have never succeeded in this one. I know that there’s a lot of ways to be sexy. I write fluff and angst and everything in between. But my sexy is like “do the characters make physical contact at any point?” I’d say This Bright Future, most likely.

Hardest to Write: Woman Borne is probably the easiest answer, but although it took several months to write and had a LOT of big things tangled in it, it didn’t feel that hard in the scheme of my chapter fic experiences. I struggled with getting through The Closing Distance- I’ve had trouble with Buffy/Angel stuff for several years- but I was really surprised by how hard Like Gravity was. It was the only Steve/Peggy fic I had a particularly hard time writing, which was especially strange considering it wasn’t an extraordinarily complicated AU.

Most Unintentionally Telling: Maybe the fact that I like Homemakers so much and have reread it so many times. Although is it a reveal if my love for fluff is well known and publicized? As is my frustration re: bread-making. And that part was written with full and vocal intention, so...not sure

Choice Lines:

Harry (so normal; James’s dad would have loved that) looks around, pulling on a gray t-shirt. “What’s happening?” he says eyeing the cauldron, his mother, and James eyeing him.

“Your dad had a little incident,” Lily says. She hands Harry a muffin, shrugging when he looks from it to her. “Pre-incident baking.”

“Alright,” Harry says easily. He takes a bite. “‘M going to Ron’s for Quidditch.” He sticks the rest of the muffin in his mouth and leaves the room as Lily pours some of the cooled teal potion into a glass and sets it in front of James, who doesn’t move for a moment.

“Woah. Didn’t mean to step into the morning after.”

“Well you did, and now you’ve got it all over your shoe.”

“That’s fucking bullshit.” Steve considered adding ‘with all due respect, sir,’ but he didn’t think it would have mattered at that point, and he also didn't think it would be honest.

...Peggy Carter is controlled and capable and brilliant, but the only thing that’s stone about her is the strength of her right hook.

Steve thinks of courts martial and the way Peggy's uniform fits her so easily. His chest feels splayed open. “I'd love to come with you,” he says, the words breathing out of him.

He wants to hug her, to hold her against him, calculated and risky and stunning. Instead he finds her hand where it lies in the sand between them and presses it delicately…

...Steve, eyes downcast, gifts Peggy with a drawing- simple charcoal on lovely, thick paper- of what she recognizes with some surprise as her own hands. One is in a fist, the other spread wide like a shield.

She buys a frame for it and hangs it in her office the next day.

“Shut up,” she says, fierce and polite, and swings him around and kisses him. He’s stunned still for only a moment.

He is, in fact, a frankly lovely kisser.

When she pulls away after a few moments, he stands there dazed, and then mumbles something that sounds like, “Seniority.”

“Oh good God,” Peggy says, and kisses him again. When she’s satisfied he’ll be quiet, she says, “Phillips is ancient and crotchety and hasn’t changed his textbook in twenty-five years. You, meanwhile, let them look at naked art and stand up to their parents and are bloody gorgeous. And even if you were useless, you’ll shut up and take it. I’ve earned this.”

“You really have,” he says, and kisses her this time, his hands smiling on her back. And then, long minutes later, “By the way. Who’s the HR/PR Disaster now?” His voice is glancingly smug, which cannot be allowed.

“That was four dollars worth of ingredients,” Steve says dazedly several hours later. He is coated lightly in flour as if he has forgotten to come out of the snow.

Peggy eyes the lumpy dough creature and says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to shoot it.”

They are two highly capable, mostly rational people. They have wedding rings and work and dinner dates and outings with friends and occasional couple’s espionage. They can cook nearly anything else by this point. There is no reason to be frustrated that they cannot conquer bread.

The next batch comes out of the oven looking perfect. It tastes only and exactly of yeast.

They host Thanksgiving because Bucky’s family wanted Christmas.

There are neat pieces of sushi as appetizers, a huge bowl of excellent mashed potatoes, and three perfect kinds of bread.

The turkey is half raw.

Bucky laughs ‘til he cries.

The girls are leaving first, so Steve stays with them while they pack up, the familiar trappings of the Star Spangled Show disappearing into crates, the familiar faces blurring beneath coats and hats.

The chaperone, Miss Lindon, is staring something fierce at him. (They’d almost driven off a cliff one midnight on a twisty road in California. Everyone else was squeezing hands and praying. Miss Lindon, firm and tidy in tweed, just turned the page of her book with a careful finger.)

He knows that Peggy is ninety-two years old. He knows that she just moved into a new nursing home last week. He knows that she is standing right in front of him, no more than a few years older than when he went into the ice. Dark hair, dark lipstick, dark jumpsuit, and his shield on her back.

Later, watching this Peggy, a shade away from what he knows, he realizes that she reminds him of no one as much as himself, shielding himself from the familiar and the unfamiliar and the memories most of all.

Having someone who understands is a very difficult sort of wonderful.

Natasha is the most off-put by how well Peggy knows them. Her stories have come slowly to Steve, each one a trust-gift. Peggy has her own collection, but for Natasha they are weapons held by someone she does not know.

No one could identify with the loneliness of waking up after the ice like Peggy could, the futile anger of knowing that everyone was gone and it was only him, surviving and surviving and surviving.

The next time Steve sees Thompson, he has fading bruises on either side of his jaw, and actually avoids Steve. As if Steve would hit him if he was just minding his own business.

“-And she said I needed to cut out half my footnotes, even though so much of the good stuff is there, and who doesn’t like extra footnotes? They’re like little knowledge presents!“ Willow finished, turning off the overhead light and enjoying the sound of her slippers shuffling against the carpet. Buffy was still out; she had a midterm the next day and Giles was quizzing her. She held the phone against her shoulder and pulled the covers down.

“Did you check for antennae? She might be a footnote hating alien.” It was the first time Oz had spoken in a while and she could hear the noise of the party the other Dingoes were having, but Willow never worried that he was getting distracted when she talked. The tone he used now was equilibrious as always, but the kind that curved upward a little in her mind and meant he was smiling.

She woke one morning with Steve’s voice, warm and content and loving, full of wonder, still settled over her like a shroud.

There were things that Peggy had not even known she could miss: slicing apples, newspapers, the moon and rain, handshakes, calendars.

There was a tenement sort of grimness to his voice that spoke of gritting teeth through long winters.

He had become less formal in her presence, knees and elbows expanding outward as he sat in a way that made him look somehow smaller, or at least softer.

She gripped at her tea. The all-purpose English remedy, she and Monty used to joke. Apply liberally to anything from gunshot wounds to heartbreak. It didn’t seem to be working.

Peggy reminded herself that she had quite handily survived a world war, and that there was no reason to behave swoonily just because Steve was being very visibly attractive in front of her.

Peggy tried to forget that the world war hadn’t prevented just the same thing the first time around.

“‘‘Twas I who chopped down the cherry tree’ and all that?” It sounded accidentally Shakespearean in her accent despite her wry tone.

Steve grinned in a way that was startlingly unrestrained, making Peggy realize just how much it had all been weighing on him. She hadn’t seen that grin since early 1945, and it was shameful for it to have been hidden so long.

“Fine,” he said, the way he did when things were not fine. It wasn’t that he was lying, but that he hadn’t yet realized that something was wrong.

Steve ran the miles home. The idea of cars felt condensed and awful.

She saw Barton farther down the street, half sitting, half sunbathing on top of one of the fire trucks.

In the bleary dark: “Why have you done so much to help us?”

A pause. “Because I can’t remember a time when I wished someone would help me.”

“Well, Evans, the thing about that man you married- and I love him like a brother and would kill anyone else who said this- is that he’s not very bright and sometimes exists with his head firmly hidden up his arse.”

“Hey, man, respect the skills of others. Maybe I can’t do any of that either, but I laugh in the face of the blue screen of death.”

There’s a feeling in her chest that reminds her of seeing Michael in his uniform for the first time, a ragged beat swallowing her thoughts for just a blank moment, whispering how much it would hurt to lose him.

He tells Peggy this after they’re adjourned for the day. She does not try to build him up or placate him. “They used to bury suspected vampires with stakes in their chests and bricks in their jaws even after they’d died,” she says instead, tilting her chin up at him.

She has the feeling that he’s from the type of family where handshake lessons were given on Monday from 2:30 to 4.

This woman sounds like she could buy and sell him a couple of times over, and he’s not entirely sure if he means literally or metaphorically.

“It’s good. I like it,” and somehow that’s worth paragraphs and paragraphs. It settles around her heart.

But Angel has had a few centuries to get used to how quickly things shift. He has no more lamentations for the eyeblinks that mean a change. Killing a young girl, seeing one on sunlit school steps; these things took seconds and changed everything.

His voice is hoarse and he speaks slowly, but his Russian is perfect, as if the language is something he stored in an attic chest, one he just creaked open to find it pristine.

Because although she has more responsibility than anyone he’s ever known, the weight of lives and lives, she also has her own, and it is such a young one. He wants to be sure that she doesn’t look with regret on these months spent with him, the cliffside love with someone whose life is endlessly futureless.

She’s been missing him all these months, she hasn’t even been tempted, never in all that time, and she’s not totally hideous, so there were some people trying to tempt. But she’s been waiting, it hasn’t even been a question, and he’s apparently been questioning all over the place if he was going to break his word, the last thing he said to her.

She goes Bronzing with the gang. She spends a couple nights hanging and talking with Will, where they dissect Oz’s latest three words, and try once again to figure out Cordelia and Xander, and don’t talk at all about Angel or about how this feels worse than the entire last year because they finally got to choose and they both chose to be apart. She gets a B+ on her English quiz.

Despite herself, Veronica is disappointed. She had wanted the rush from figuring out a puzzle, from outthinking a group of criminals with rap sheets long enough to ride the big roller coasters without a parent. Now she’s facing a woman who’s pulling the criminal equivalent of faking cramps to get out of gym.

#fic roundup #fic stuff #apologies about my hideous self congratulation #and for the WHACKED formatting #should be fixed now but let me know

3 notes · View notes