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cyrusgoodboye · 6 years

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(1) I have so many prompts 😩 how about a supportive bf Cyrus at one of TJ’s basketball games

His Biggest Fan - a Tyrus fanfiction

I’m shook, I actually wrote this relatively fast (which I know you sent this in a long time ago but I just started working on it). Hope you enjoyed this (I also hope no one minds that I kept with this basketball theme, whoops). And let’s all collectively hope that I actually got this basketball lingo right, and if not then you can all laugh at me. Anyway, on with the story:

“Whoo!” Cyrus cheered from the stands, clapping incessantly. “Go T.J. and Buffy!”

Andi cringed at her best friend’s exceptionally loud volume. How could a boy so small cheer so loudly? “Cyrus, do you have to be so loud?” she exclaimed, shrinking away from him.

Cyrus smiled at Andi sheepishly, and he lowered his voice a fraction in order to appease her. “Sorry. You know I love it when they score a touchdown!”

“It’s a basket,” Andi corrected. She drew her eyebrows together, pausing as she second-guessed her own correction. “I think?”

The two friends were currently gracing the gymnasium with their presence, just like they did with every other Jefferson Middle School basketball game. Neither of them were ever exactly sure what was going on, but they were always there to support Buffy, and, more recently, T.J., so understanding the game wasn’t usually their top priority.

“Really?” Cyrus asked in confusion. He shook his head exasperatedly, and he scrunched up his face as he whined. “I can’t keep up with all of these sports terms!”

Andi laughed. “Don’t worry, no one’s asking you to,” she assured him. Andi turned her attention back to the game with a twist of her head. As her eyes focused on what was unfolding in front of her, she frowned and squinted uncertainly. “Is there a break?”

Cyrus followed her line of sight, where each separate team had gathered on the opposite sides of the room, staying within their own group. He searched for the ones clad in the blue-and-white uniforms, and he saw them all pat each other on the back supportively as they wiped the beads of sweat from their brows. “Is this the intermission?” he asked in confusion, tilting his voice up on the last syllable.

Andi shook her head at him. “No, Cyrus, they only have intermissions during plays,” she said, typing rapid, slurred keys on her phone (with probably a few typos in the search engine bar). After a few seconds, she hummed in understanding. “It’s actually the game’s ‘halftime,’ like their halftime show,” Andi elaborated, clicking her phone off and stuffing it back inside her jacket pocket.

“Oh, okay.” He only ever watched the halftime show on the Super Bowl. Why watch football when you could watch Lady Gaga’s spectacular rendition of her own greatest hits? “We really need to go outdoors more.”

They both exchanged a glance before bursting out into laughter. Like that was going to happen.

As the halftime show commenced, Cyrus examined the court once more, his eyes sweeping over Jefferson’s players, and he found T.J. skimming his eyes over the crowd in concentration as well. When their eyes finally connected over the vast crowd, Cyrus waved excitedly at his boyfriend (his boyfriend! It was still so exhilarating to say) from the bleachers that were overlooking the gym.

T.J. beamed back from his spot on the court, blushing bashfully, and Cyrus smiled in return. “Do you think we should start chanting with our posters for the second half of the game?” he asked Andi, keeping a light gaze on T.J. as he spoke.

Andi shrugged. “Why not?”

After the cheerleader’s impossibly complex cheer routine (how did they bend that way?), Andi and Cyrus each held up a sign, one for Buffy and the other for T.J..

“Clever!” Andi remarked on the poster Cyrus’s holding up: T.J. KIPPEN IS ALWAYS DRIBBLIN’!

Cyrus grinned, proud of his poster. It was decorated with bold, black letters, and the ‘i’s were even dotted with tiny little basketballs. “Thanks! I had to ask T.J. to make sure that dribbling was a good thing, and then he went into a long spiel about basketball that I didn’t understand at all,” he told her, his brow furrowed together. He then smiled at the memory; he hadn’t exactly grasped what T.J. had been getting at, but it was still cute to see him ramble about something that he so obviously cared about. “So I’m pretty sure it’s right.”

Andi snorted. “Even I know what dribbling is, Cyrus,” she said, holding up the other poster for Buffy. YOU CAN’T OUTUFF THE BUFF’!

“Hey,” Cyrus defended himself lightly, “we all have our strengths and weaknesses,” he pointed out in a teasing manner. Andi smiled and gave a gentle shake of her head in response.

As the game started back up again, the two friends started cheering for Buffy and T.J. again, both of them wishing the best for their friends. Ever since Cyrus and T.J. had gotten together, Buffy and T.J. had (to everyone’s immediate surprise) been getting along, and T.J. now willingly passed her the ball multiple times a game if he had the chance. Whether the two actually enjoyed each other’s company or were just doing it for Cyrus’s sake, Cyrus was grateful. He didn’t know what he’d do if his boyfriend (he grinned as he thought of the word; he didn’t think the effect the word had on him would ever wear off) and best friend despised each other.

Jefferson snatched the ball from their green-and-white enemies, and Buffy dribbled strategically away from the defense. She stealthily maneuvered herself out of the grasp of the Knights, but more and more of the players began to surround her, reminding Cyrus of how gnats surrounded a piece of spoiled fruit. They were unrelenting.

Buffy glanced towards T.J. helplessly, and Cyrus could practically see the conflict in her eyes. Should she try to make the shot herself, or should she try and give T.J. a try?

“Come on, Buffy,” Cyrus whispered desperately under his breath. Buffy was one of the most athletically inclined people he had ever met, but sometimes she needed to trust and rely on her teammates. While being confident in your skills isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Buffy could be too sure of herself at times, and it got her into trouble.

Finally, after Buffy could no longer fight off the Knights’ defense by herself, she wildly hurled the ball to T.J., her last alternative, in desperation, and he caught it with ease. He dribbled the ball against the gym floor swiftly, but, as he jumped up to make a two-pointer from his side angle, a Knights player swiped the bright orange ball from T.J.’s hands, knocking him down in the process with a sickening thud.

Cyrus gasped at the action, standing up in shock as the entire gymnasium held bated breath. In the distance, the whistle that normally hung around the coach’s neck was brought to Coach Anderson’s lips, causing a sharp hiss to echo throughout the gymnasium. The referee then turned to the anxious crowd and made a ‘T’ with his hands, and Cyrus felt a hand land softly upon his shoulder as his stomach whirled. “Does that mean a timeout?

Cyrus couldn’t even answer; his mind was too busy reeling with worry for T.J.. What if he was hurt? Or worse, dead? His eyes darted around wildly in panic, hungrily searching for any shred of evidence that T.J. was okay, but he found none as Jefferson’s coach and the referee were both blocking the view of the basketball player. Why wouldn’t the referee and coach just move?

“I’m going down there,” Cyrus said, determined.

Andi’s eyebrows drew together. “Cyrus, I’m not sure if you can do tha—”

“I just want to make sure he’s okay,” Cyrus assured her, trying to ignore the frenzy going on in his belly. Cyrus snatched the towel he had brought (you’d be surprised by how much basketball players sweat!) just in case and some extra supplies before he descended down the steps, making sure to apologize to anyone he bumped into. Once he finally hopped down onto the outskirts of the court, right next to the team huddle, he caught Buffy’s eye.

“Is he hurt?” Cyrus asked worriedly, a nauseated feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He hoped that she would reassure him; he did tend to imagine the worst things possible without her and Andi’s redirection.

Buffy shook her head frantically, shrugging as her hand came to comb back some loose tendrils that were obstructing her view. “I don’t know. They won’t let me over there!” she said, her arms crossed in annoyance. Cyrus raised his eyebrows in surprise; maybe Buffy actually cared about T.J. more than he’d thought.

Cyrus opened his mouth to answer her, but the coach’s piercing whistle was blown again, shaking him from his train of thought. As T.J. hobbled his way over to his teammates (plus Cyrus) with the help of Jefferson’s coach, he tried to give Cyrus one of his famous, sweet grins, but a sharp wince was drawn from his lips instead.

“Ouch,” T.J. scowled as the coach eased him down onto the front row, the referee setting a chair by his feet. He turned toward Cyrus, a slight grimace on his face. “That guy made me twist my ankle,” he explained, and Cyrus let out a sigh of relief. He’s not dying, he told himself. Cyrus breathed deeply as if to get rid of any leftover tension in his body. What worrying could do to a person!

Coach Anderson cast T.J. an apologetic look, but it was soon replaced with a stern expression. “Driscoll, you’re filling in for Kippen,” he informed as T.J.’s carefully propped his leg on the chair in front of him.

Buffy looked shocked, albeit pleased. She glanced towards T.J., expecting him to be furious.

“Go ahead,” he told her, a mock tone of exasperation lining his voice. The mirth dancing in his eyes gave him away. “I know you’re dying to.”

Buffy smirked. “I was going to accept whether you were happy about it or not,” she told him. She turned to the coach, her demeanor changing from being smug to ecstatic within seconds. “Thank you so much, Coach!” Buffy said, not bothering to hide her enthrallment. “I won’t let you down.”

Coach Anderson nodded once, seeming impatient as the delay of the game drew on longer. “I wasn’t expecting you to. Now, go! We need to continue this game!”

Buffy bobbed her head eagerly, racing back onto the court with the rest of her teammates. Cyrus sat down next to T.J., careful not to bump into his injured foot, and smiled at his best friend happily as he watched her give orders to her teammates. “Thank you.”

T.J. glanced at him, and a soft smile grew on his face as he studied Cyrus’s face. He raised his eyebrows at his boyfriend. “What for?”

Cyrus cautiously shuffled closer, tugging the towel he had draped around his neck and bringing it to T.J.’s forehead. There were probably a million eyes on them, but Cyrus’s tried not to care, instead trying to focus on wiping away the moisture from T.J.’s brow. “For trying to get along with Buffy.”

T.J. shrugged. “She’s actually bearable,” he admitted. “Getting along with her isn’t as hard as I thought.”

The corners of Cyrus’s mouth tugged upwards. “I’m glad.” After wiping the beads of sweat from T.J.’s temple, Cyrus lowered the towel, carefully folding it and setting it aside. “I brought you some water,” he offered, handing a bottle to T.J..

T.J. grinned lazily, but he winced when he leaned forward to grab it. “Thanks,” he said, brushing over Cyrus’s hand so subtly that no one else but them would be able to catch it. He gripped the bottle, gulping down its contents before wiping his mouth contently. “Thanks for cheering for me,” he mumbled into Cyrus’s ear, casting a shiver down the boy’s back.

Cyrus shook the feeling off, and tried for a wide smile. “Would you expect anything less from your biggest fan?”

T.J. shook his head. “Of course I wouldn’t.” He scooted over as well as he could manage, bringing him and Cyrus side-to-side, and Cyrus had to hide his smile. He’s sly, I’ll give him that, Cyrus thought to himself. As T.J. casually slung an arm around Cyrus’s shoulders (Cyrus noted that that was sly, too), he turned his attention towards the game. “Looks like Buffy’s managing pretty well,” T.J. observed aloud, gesturing towards the court with a dip of his head.

Cyrus glanced in the direction T.J. had signaled to, and a proud feeling bloomed in his chest at the sight. Buffy had just made a shot with the basketball, and her teammates patting her encouragingly on the back after her amazing toss into the basket. “And you said she wouldn’t make the team,” Cyrus teased.

T.J. sighed. “I was wrong,” he admitted, glancing at Cyrus. His hand absentmindedly reached up, brushing against the nape of Cyrus’s neck, and Cyrus blushed in response. “Don’t tell Buffy that, though,” T.J. added as an afterthought.

Cyrus laughed, and the two kept a steady gaze, causing a ripple of butterflies in Cyrus’s stomach to flutter. I love his eyes, Cyrus noted dreamily. And his smile, and his hair, and his mouth…

A wave of cheers erupted from the stands, breaking the two boys from their stare; Buffy had made another shot for Jefferson.

Cyrus’s gaze flitted back over to the court, and he gave a slightly delayed response to Buffy’s basket. “Go Buffy!” He noticed T.J.’s amused expression, and he grinned. “What? I can still manage to cheer for her without my posters.”

T.J. just shook his head with a slight grin on his face. His boyfriend could be so adorable. “I know, I know.”

For the rest of the game, Cyrus asked T.J. questions about the sport that he wasn’t for sure on (the list included “What does a shooting guard do?” and “Why doesn’t the basketball team wear better uniforms?”), all to which T.J. responded to almost automatically, and Cyrus was glad that the boy was humoring him.

After Buffy made the winning shot for Jefferson (Cyrus’s voice was still hoarse from the shouting that had induced), Cyrus aided T.J., wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s torso while T.J. slung his arm around his shoulders. The two walked as seamlessly as they could manage, but, with Cyrus controlling both of their movements, it didn’t end up so well.

“Ow, ow,” T.J. winced as Cyrus tripped over the threshold, and Cyrus paused by the wall.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he apologized, rubbing a hand over his flushed face. Luckily, before he started to move again, an elated Buffy found them, nearly squealing with excitement.

“We won!” Buffy exclaimed, throwing her arms around Cyrus. She accidentally hit T.J. in the process, and he grimaced at the action but didn’t say anything.

“I know, I’m so proud of you!” Cyrus said, just as enthused as she was. “Did you hear me cheering for you?”

Buffy raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Hear you? Cyrus, you were the loudest one out there! Of course I heard you.”

Cyrus smiled. “Thanks, I try.” He glanced over at T.J., who had an amused expression adorning his face at the two’s exchange.

Buffy’s gaze shifted to T.J., and she had a smug smile on her face. “I did good, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know about that,” T.J. protested, but he grinned, showing that he was joking. “Nice job, Driscoll. Don’t get used to being captain.”

Buffy said cockily, “I’ll be taking over soon enough.” As she spoke, the scanned the two boys questioningly. “Do you need help? I don’t think Cyrus can manage to walk you out by himself.”

Cyrus heaved a sigh of relief. “Yes, please!”

Buffy laughed giddily, the last few moments of the game still ticking behind her eyelids, and she took over T.J.’s other side. Fortunately, with Buffy acting as T.J.’s left crutch, the three of them managed to get to the outdoor picnic tables without too much hassle.

“Ugh,” Buffy grunted, removing herself from T.J.’s side. Jeez, Cyrus was really no help when it came to strength. “So, are you in for some post-celebratory tater-tots?” she asked her best friend hopefully.

Cyrus grinned. “I’ll be there!” he promised.

As she stalked off, leaving them with one last squeal of excitement, T.J. awkwardly straddled the picnic table bench, allowing his wounded foot to settle on Cyrus’s lap while his other one was tucked underneath him.

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, watching Buffy talk to Andi animatedly about a play-by-play of the game as they walked to The Spoon together. Then, once the girls were out of their sight, Cyrus squeezed T.J.’s shoulder comfortingly. “Hey, I know you didn’t get to play a lot today, but I’m proud of you, too, you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” T.J. quipped. He glanced around at the vacant space around them and, after making sure there were no prying eyes around, he kissed Cyrus chastely on the cheek. “Thank you for always being my biggest fan.”

Cyrus felt his heart drum rapidly in his chest at the action, and he beamed at him. “Of course.” After all, would T.J. expect anything less from his boyfriend?

This was just a little fluffy prompt, one that I certainly appreciated! Thanks to everyone who reads, it means a lot to distribute my content for other people to view and enjoy. To show me what you thought of it, please reblog or comment below, or check me out on AO3 or fanfiction.net. Thank you!

~emmagrace13

#tyrus #tjyrus #cj #andi mack #buffy driscoll #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #good hair crew

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vowenowe-stream · 6 years

Text

05/02/17

A horrifying level of depravity not seen since the stone ages where the king and the seed and the not seed and what is out of plumbing and system and goes and crate cries seem seam is it sees what sees isn’t sees it’s is i’t is sees to what came out of the river and the bridge and at the sky and the van and the rocky ground and the leafy green grove and what was out of the sky and at the cliff and at the place where the collision of the planet of Jupiter and Mars came about from a gravitational keyhole and assumed what was happening to the planets was a good and healthy and wholesome thing when in reality the horrible corrupted form of was thing to be at the thing and implement and prevent gibberish and make sense and sit on a bench outside the store with a floppy hat and sit during the inclement overcast weather and comfort during the tornado and go to the highway and see a lizard and go to the skype and wonder if there is someone outside the window and fall apart then glue an egg into an egg and kill an egg and eat an egg and verb an egg and see an egg and funny egg was was was was was repetition and was and was and was and was and was and what it’s easier to think and an automatic recourse into a loop to decrease the stress and it’s too idiomatic to describe the process because what you really want is abstract form writing and something to read that you don’t remember creating and no judgment but still impeded by judgment you think something in the text is going to click with them as something that is forbidden to speak of by social rules created by their own collective insecurities which they have successfully made you a slave to but not anymore and now I am going to go across the field to the dorms and open the Slavic closet the dusty the good smell the educational chalkboard ancient diomacemus incorrect dinosaur the place where there is nothing to be afraid of the progress the thing I’ve never been interested in it’s an achievement unlocked in real life but you’re a farmer who doesn’t need these things you till the Earth and you listen to heavy metal and you live in a van and live in a winnebago and have a dry cracked landscape life of Korn and subsisting off of whatever you can find and it’s all you can strive for in a formal context the pursuing of the master’s degree and getting what you want forever and if your no and what you want forever to find the earthiest soil the timmiest the jomeiest wassn the fffffffffffffffffffffffff the fuff the feff the saif the wadn’t coil corroyle the silliminin the tm tmmn simon sisen terrimynian kiimian the kel sell sell kell kell sell sell kell kell sell and what it did does do is what it did does do come on now try to make sense try to open up and dig instead of idle game it’s not like a real introspective thing so don’t try to paint it as no it’s okay to have anything anything at all so look at the bouncing gif and don’t be distracted and try to eliminate the filter but it’s too late didn’t you already almost say something dangerous try to close your eyes now your eyes are closed I know you can type with your eyes closed let’s hope your fingers don’t go out of alignment and turn this into gibberish because you certainly won’t remember it maybe you could go through and type each key to the left or right to try to decypher it open them now and you typed it all right but you’re scared of corrupting all the text so you can’t close your eyes again and escape the subconscious influence of the TV but at least it’s like you’re rambling into a microphone and allowed to do it with people in the house because you’ve almost disintegrated that filter of having to apply dexterity to get it from your brain and out of your fingers because it’s easier with the mouth and with the fingers there can be typos but you’re focusing on removing that barrier but again you’re talking about the process instead of trying to paint some kind of picture because you are afraid of what the picture could incorporate because you have secrets you have at least one secret or two secrets or three secrets maybe they don’t all come to mind right now but there is at least a couple and you’re not going to risk portraying them even though you portrayed one today but that wasn’t stream of consciousness it was carefully done so it was okay but you don’t ever want to get drunk because you’re you don’t ever want to get too drunk because you’re afraid of what you’ll say what if something brings to mind and you don’t have a say in letting it come out anymore maybe it’s not even a big deal but it’s so disgusting it’s so disgusting it’s so disgusting it’s so disgusting this is all you can say you had to loop because you wanted to say something i guess but it had to be only one thing as vague as it because of it and what are you talking about time to move on hey the dark van the scary demon the running jogger with the light what a liminal space that pitch black tree silhouette you couldn’t capture on the camera until you all drove away to your apartment and you got a terrible rest and it was the final day and you incurred a 207 dollar debt and you went to the dentist and bought burgers and energy drinks and at some point you were at that one park in a paradise it was an Elysium situation you couldn’t have noticed in the moment but it was and you can be given that again i don’t know how much you’re supposed to be given how much can you be given how much can you be given could you be given more than is right for you is there anything wrong with receiving gifts conservatism liberalism i want gifts i want to receive gifts but how are gifts any different from sex how is food any different from sex i don’t want to this to want to and do to want this do to what want that thut whut what wat tut taaahhh thhhaaaaah thah thuh the park the little dog the leaf the spiky ball seed pod tree chop a water bottle in half the highly pressurized faucet spigot tap the slide i tried to climb up embarrassing and i had a dream last night where i tried to climb up a slide and i just keep typing i could do it all night and leave someone with a giant journal to have to read but at the park i hang onto the beam over the swings and it makes me feel male and spag puts on the hat and i throw the bottles and some strangers yell i think they thought i was littering i thought we were gonna go in the museum i kind of wanted to i would’ve paid for admission but it was amazing there anyway we got the water and the food no not food just water and the food maybe and putting flowers on little dog i think there’s stuff i still haven’t remembered all that matters is having it all to digest and every single thing we did is cherished to me every thing we can possibly do establishes itself as a memory to love i love the convenience store now and the specific roads we drove down those are the memories you can do anything aid it will be good it will be what happened and i’ve created memories before like the scarf walk but i feel like i am forgetting how to or something i keep lacking motivation even though i know how good it is and how i don’t even know what i’m missing out on just by going to under the overpass and sitting there with Swans and losing a scarf and listening to Hunky Dory and recording rain and going somewhere and sitting but where do i sit and for how long there’s too many places the duck pond during the first visit i think the duck pond was silently established as a crush confession location but nobody could and then it became the park and nothing but importants still happened and the rain tunnel and some day i think im gonna visit the original rain tunnel thatll be cool i’ll actually go across the country with them i’ll break all the boundaries and i’ll be with them and that;s cool they’re gonna take me further than i’ve ever gone before physically across the country if we ever go to new york i am sitting on a couch my dad got up and touched something the table or something and it made me aware of the noise typing makes and shocked me back into shoutign while pouring a gatorade bottle as if it’s peeing and a man giving a concerned look the kid dude named shaun or shawn saying corn and uhhhh pendulum hold your colour the guy whose name i forgot

Going to corn soybean update just type TV kansas soybean commission the soybean checkoff fadeout lady microphone no I don’t want to live tv transcribe stressful I don’t feel like it anymore a pressure in my chest or heat and bouncing leg still typing okay could stop at any time but I don’t want it to be an amusingly short paragraph just by thinking I will make it longer and make it more in line with the established format uhh but they don’t even find the line break significant okay the TV and the antenna on top don’t just describe surroundings I wanted to type like abstract narrative or something okay a king and a queen and a robot and a chair and a computer and a potted plant and a cup and a gnome ok the gnome is actually in the room but it fits with the fantasy setting but hey wahts that robot doing there i thought it was an ancient kingdom lol what the heck ok calm down it’s just three stream of consciousness concepts well it’s not like the sarcasm was that serious either well ok i like the lake outside still on describing surroundings it was just the other side of peripheral vision i can’t do this i cannot come up with something like the start thing if it wasn’t bad i don’t know guh doo duh guh doo duh goo guh doo duh I don’t want to type anymore and it will keep deteriorating if I keep typing one time in carthage i was on the swingset and spent like an hour talking to myself saying the “longest sentence in the world” it was this endless self-referential run-on sentence I kept saying and saying to nobody for an hour just on a swingset I wonder if anyone heard me and what they thought uhhhhh Pepsi tupperware gushers phone book I am tired maybe I should sleep it’s 5:12 AM I don’t want to be nocturnal fuck I hope I don’t go more out of sync or maybe I will be less out of sync uhhhhh I am excited for the May meet I think it will keep getting better I think we will have an even longer meet cause it wont start in a more expensive hotel maybe it’s not anything anymore it’s just a blog post oh what are you saying it was something before did you just say something presumptuous did you just grant yourself literally anything you don’t get any notes now which isn’t a bellwether of you doing anything right or wrong except it is because

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disarmingly · 7 years

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fanfic asks (part 1 is here! feel free to send the other numbers tho at this point i lost track im sorry lmfdslfjdskfdskfdlsjl)

2 [ things that motivate you ]

i think this is likely true of most people who make things for public consumption and that's honestly…when people respond to something we make? whether it's a comment or the notes on your bookmark or a message or an ask or a dm on twitter or anything just saying 'hey i read this i liked it' or something in the same vein (more or less a nice thing is a nice thing!) i touched on this with the last set in number 27's answer on the last set.... where i refer to kindnesses as a currency. to be clearer, i write fic to explore ideas for personalities i am already in love with whether characters from an era or canon images or, more likely, a hybridization of the two (plus extrapolations) and also stories/theories that appeal to me but also MEAN a lot to me and in doing so i hope will mean something to others. i write it to connect (i am a broken record but it's what it is isn't it ^^) and sort of see if the way that i think and process can in fact be translated to other people. to see that it can, here and there, is immeasurably important to me.

i have always wanted to be one of those people who can self-motivate but i find more and more that the truth is i very much look to other peoples' approval and responses, and perhaps that will always be the case, which i suppose means i have to just keep working harder and honing the art as best i can -- give or take. i hold comments close, asks, messages, all of that. i screencap them because i'm afraid the eternal internet will fail me ^^;;; and sometimes people remove t hei r bookmarks or whatnot so like…um i'm glad i screencapped them ^^;;; and there was one twitter convo where the nice thing they said was so far back i couldn't see it anymore ;_; so lol i'm glad i screencapped that too….a-and now u all know i am crazy T////T hahikesduiojklefdsiojk OTL s-seriously though. have i said before i think sometimes people have a natural baseline? i said it in 'below zero' but outside of that i mean…so a good thing a tangible thing when i am below zero (often) ends up being…many things to me. i'm grateful even if i fail to fully harness people's generosity to the extent i ought to.

5 [ since how long do you write? ]

mmm…since i stopped drawing entirely so like hum… /squints/ /rubs chin/ /rubs head/ ahhh like i guess i really started wholly focusing and shifted from visual to verbal in my last year of middle school! ^^;;/ but i wrote fiction primarily at the time because i had a dream of writing a book that would stay with people the way my favorite books have stayed with me. weirdly i am only now able to write narrative for fanfic and otherwise all my original writing is poetry…which is significantly less relatable for people and has such an unforgiving set of standards that i mostly have lost hope for making my way in that area, though i still produce material.

9 [ do you set yourself deadlines? ]

mmm not hard deadlines. i can't trick myself that way per se. but i can trick myself by being like mini deadlines so a paragraph a morning or something of that ilk? i'm very flow-by-flow so hard deadlines are just lolololololol however, i do have friends who work very well within the stricter parameters of a due date; basically your mileage may vary, but for me it works best to say: try to have something complete by the end of a 30 day period, and then to adjust along the way i.e. i clearly won't have this done by 30 days at least get the first draft done. etc. OTL i'm so wishy washy ;_;

36 [ one-shot or multi-chaptered story? ]

NERVOUS LAUGHTER RUBS MY EYES uiojrlekfsdiok i do better when i do one-shots i am like shudders at my multi-chapter ideas but fall down lightly began more as a vignette series and oops got a narrative in real time my MISTAKE because i know everything that happens but have basically made myself so nervous about it i've been staring at the next real chapter for five thousand years. it just doesn't seem good enough ;_; lololol so for the sake of not releasing something that is a waste of time for other people to look at i….haven't. it's a verse i love and i want to complete because I KNOW HOW IT ENDS LMFALKFJD and even what happens along the way but like lololol /stares at my hands unhappily/ ljldskjfs ah well anyway though one-shot i do trust myself more with. because when it's done/posted? it's done. barring revisions ^^;; (and typos T_T;;;)

39 [ do you want to be published some day? ]

the dream ;_; ah. i don't delude myself thinking i could ever make money doing what is most important to me…poetry is not largely a money making facet of the writing industry and even the ones that are real jobs aren't very um…whatchacallit um……huh….productive money wise? not that that should be my focus but i always dreamt if i made a lot of money i could give people lots of things and stuff…which…i always wanted to do…

._.;;; i digress. but like to get poetry published would be nice. to be accepted a little in that way would be nice. but even honestly if i started releasing it online and people liked it that would be enough for me at this point. i had a teacher who once said to me: your real strength lies in essay writing, you should change your track. and it has been hurting me ever since haha. i don't like writing essays. i HATE it. same goes for journalism. all of which i avoided despite being told 'it's what you're good at'….i …is it weird to say poetry is what i love even if i don't love my own writing? i want my writing to be better and i'll try to keep doing it regardless but that really…ah it's funny how one thing can be a shadow isn't it? long answer OTL I apologize ;_; but like…so yes. i would love it. it feels impossible but … it would be….it would be nice.

42 [ do you plan or do you write whatever comes to your mind? ]

i do both. it depends on the story. sometimes it is literally both for one story and sometimes i run out the gate with the exactitudes and it is what i think it will be (mostly). save me was a combination. follow was precisely as i planned it and so was sidereal. fall down lightly i know the exacts of what happens but not how i want to convey them so there's that. this time around i knew exactly. time and again i had all down in notes so i do know what happens but again not how i verbalize. call and answer was PAINSTAKINGLY planned help me lmdlskfdsj…..as was so far away. dearly beloved was a moment, begin was inspired and stream of consciousness -- as was one thing and balancing act. ;; i'm not very one or the other i suppose…. T////T

44 [ do you write linear or do you write future scenes if you feel like it? ]

like 42 i am both. it depends. i wrote save me as you read it but i literally hop around time within it so i'm not sure if question means that or if i write it all out linearly first??? in which case no??? but only because weirdly if i plan to hop around in time for a story it's best if i do so in real-time as i write it or i lose the rhythm i wanted to actualize for the story's feeling and resolution/end-point. i have notes all of the time too about things i haven't paragraphed out so like…if that is part of the answer….

47 [ how many unfinished ideas/stories are you working on at the same time? ]

o_o;;;; w-well my drafts folder is divided into two parts -- one is complete drafts that need looking at again and one is unfinished works entirely, if you want the final headcount of both it's lolololol

rest in pieces me….

._. nowaskmehowmanyaresugakookie lmfdslkjfs no don't. mostofthem. andsomenamkook. lolololol…….helpme…

as with the first asks, thank you for reading. thanks for talking to me and taking an interest. i feel boring and anxious and very sporadic and like too weird/???? like really awkward lame???? but i do like talking about writing...even if i feel...also rambling rambling rambling.....granted these were shorter bc i wanted to do them before i had to run ^^;;; if any of them need elaboration i can be clearer!!! a-anyway /shoves paper bag over my own head/ …./w-waves gratefully as scurries to the train!!!!…..

also gosh i might've taken too long but …butterfly anon….your message…has been helping me survive this week…ah…i replied longer to your message in a previous post but like.../mentions again…. T_T;;; it's been really….hard…haha…so thank you t_t

#fanfic asks #asks #haku shut up #fic asks #sdkljfkldsf sdkljfdsjflds ahhhh #;;#someday i will be better #ihope

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