akkivee · 1 year ago
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ramuda’s first radio was such a game changer man lmao
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kathaynesart · 7 months ago
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The eye of the hurricane. I like to think Cassandra sometimes called the brothers by the nicknames their dad used, given they were probably pretty close before his passing.
BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT MASTER POST
Man oh man, this one was way messier and off model than my last few updates but whatever, we got to keep this ball rolling! Life's been crazy so I've had to take some unwanted breaks in between updates. Thanks everyone for your patience as always!
One thing I wanted in this flashback was to really get a sense of how the brothers worked as an experienced team with Leo at the helm as a proper leader. It's something we never got to see much of in Rise and I felt it was important to include since half the team is already gone by the time of Replica. Team Dynamics Ted Talk under the cut!
We know from Casey Jr that Leo stressed the importance of listening to your team. A big part of that also means knowing how to communicate with them in general.
With Michelangelo, he keeps it short and succinct, trusting his brother to know what he's doing when in his element. This trust goes a long way with Mikey, having spent years of his youth as the baby striving for the respect he felt he deserved. Leo knows it's best to not bog Mikey down with details, allowing him to improvise as needed. This unspoken freedom has only grown over time as Mikey has dipped deeper into spiritual arts that, frankly, go completely over Leo's head.
The greatest sacrifice Leo has ever made was read Donnie's Big Book of Bad Guy Codes. While he doesn't remember ALL the numbers, he has memorized the ones that matter and it has helped tremendously in avoiding miscommunication with his genius brother. More importantly it silenced any of Donnie's usual belly-aching. As Leo's "twin"/"equal" the two still butt heads from time to time. Donnie respects his brother's authority (mostly) but will still push the boundaries of what he's allowed on a semi-regular basis. Give Donnie an inch and he will take the mile and then find a loop hole that allows him to go twenty miles more. This is partially due to him often being the one left behind at HQ, making the turtle just a TAD stir crazy. Leo does his best to keep him in line regardless.
Big brother Raph will forever and always be big brother to Leo. As such he holds a place of authority in Leo's heart and is someone he still regularly seeks counsel from in both the ways of leadership and more. Raph is always happy to support his younger brother and does a surprisingly good job (albeit after years of practice) of walking the line so as not to step on his brother's toes in the process. At least not since the secret of "the Key" blew up in their faces several years ago. They don't talk about that anymore. Leo is the leader now and he's done a great job in recent years as far as Raph is concerned. He trusts him to make the right call. The two have a close bond and regularly use mind meld to quickly communicate rather than speak ...this will be important to remember for the future.
Hope that overall feeling came through for this group!
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ibijau · 3 years ago
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Future Past pt17 / on AO3
After being dragged on a Night Hunt by Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen ponders the choices in front of him
“And that’s when Sect Leader Yao fell face first into the bog,” Nie Mingjue finished with a grin.
Lan Xichen, who had been fighting not to react for most of the story, burst out laughing so hard he had to stop walking, before quickly pressing one hand to his mouth in a vain effort to silence himself.
“There, I knew I hadn’t lost my touch,” Nie Mingjue said with an even wider grin, and Lan Xichen was nearly overcome with how much he’d missed him.
Of course he only had himself to blame for that. During the past year, Nie Mingjue had reached out to him several times, inviting Lan Xichen to spend a week or two in the Unclean Realm to flee his uncle’s students, or else suggesting they go on a Night Hunt together. But every time, Lan Xichen had found plenty of excuses to refuse. They were all good excuses, and he’d been busy with his regular duties, and the copying of the library, and…
And good or not, excuses were just excuses. The honest trust was that Lan Xichen had, in fact, been avoiding his best friend. The lingering shame from that horrible future had been too much to bear. How could he have faced Nie Mingjue, knowing he would have failed him someday, knowing he’d sided with his murderer, knowing he’d allowed his precious brother to turn into a monster? Horrified by the terrible friend he would have become, Lan Xichen had tried to distance himself from Nie Mingjue.
It hadn’t worked. Nie Mingjue had been patient with him, until one day he wasn’t, and just dropped by the Cloud Recesses unannounced, warned Lan Qiren that he was borrowing his nephew, and took Lan Xichen on a Night Hunt before anyone could protest. That had been the previous afternoon, and since then Nie Mingjue had been on a quest to make Lan Xichen laugh.
They’d just arrived at the location where a demon bear was causing trouble, and finally Nie Mingjue’s effort had been rewarded.
Now that he was laughing, Lan Xichen felt a little stupid for trying so hard to stay serious. Even if in his memories of the future Nie Mingjue had become an angry man too short tempered to have fun with, in the present he was the funniest person Lan Xichen knew.
The most forgiving, too, because he wasn’t even angry that Lan Xichen had pushed him away for an entire year.
“You’ve gotten too stern,” Nie Mingjue just said while Lan Xichen laughed. “I need to scold your uncle for making you work too much. I also need to steal you more often.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Lan Xichen replied, meaning it. He had been too serious since gaining those unwanted memories. Except for music lessons with Nie Huaisang, letters from Jiang Cheng, and a few chats with his brother, everything had felt dreary and stressful these last few months. “I’d wanted to act more maturely, but I suppose it’s important to have fun too.”
This prompted Nie Mingjue to make an annoyed noise.
“Huaisang told me the same thing last week,” he said in an aggravated tone. “That little brat…”
“I thought you wanted him to act more seriously?”
“I do, but not like that,” Nie Mingjue grumbled as he resumed walking. “He’s weird since he came back. First he ran off on his own, flying on his sabre…”
Lan Xichen winced. That hadn’t happened in his memory of another life. But at the same time, in that other life Nie Huaisang hadn’t gotten in nearly as much trouble, not during that first year in the Cloud Recesses at least. Lan Xichen couldn’t help feeling guilty about that, since it had to have been his fault for changing the normal course of events.
“Then when he comes back, he brings that orphan he found somewhere and demands that I let him join the sect!”
That was new as well.
“Did you agree?” Lan Xichen asked.
Nie Mingjue shrugged, and Lan Xichen had to bite his cheeks not to smile. So that was a yes. As expected, Nie Mingjue just didn’t know how to refuse his brother’s whims. It was comforting to know that this, at least, hadn’t changed.
“He’s obsessed with that kid,” Nie Mingjue explained. “Don’t know why. The boy is a damn pest, gets in fights all the time with everyone… but I guess he is clever, and he’s got potential. It’s just so weird to see Huaisang always asking about his progress. He’s never cared about any younger disciples before!”
“Maybe he brought you your future brother-in-law,” Lan Xichen teased.
“I don’t think so. The kid’s only about ten, I’d need to have a serious discussion with Huaisang if he was going after someone that young. Besides, doesn’t he already have a fling with that Lan disciple, what's his name… Su She, right?”
Hearing this, Lan Xichen’s good humour crumbled. Since Nie Huaisang had told him in Yunping City that there was nothing of the sort between himself and Su She, Lan Xichen had stopped thinking about it. But Nie Mingjue sounded quite sure of himself, so either Nie Huaisang had lied that time, or things had changed since then.
If so, Lan Xichen could only be happy for them, he supposed. After all he knew too well how loyal Su She could be toward those he cared about, and Nie Huaisang had passionately taken the defence of his friend on multiple occasions. They wouldn’t be the worst of matches, and if Lan Xichen felt any discomfort over that idea, it was only because of lingering memories of that future that would not be.
"Did I get it wrong?" Nie Mingjue asked when Lan Xichen remained silent too long. "I've just never heard that brat talk like that about anyone. Since he came back, it's all 'Su-xiong said this' about everything, except when it's 'Xichen-gege said that', so I figured you might know something”
He paused for a moment, looking concerned. Lan Xichen glanced around, in case Nie Mingjue had heard a noise, or noticed anything about that demon bear they were after, but everything seemed quiet.
“That Su She, what sort of a person is he?” Nie Mingjue suddenly asked with a grim expression. “Huaisang really is enthusiastic about that boy, but he’s mentioned that his ‘Su-xiong’ has a temper, and… he failed the exams even though both you and your uncle wrote that he’s been studying a lot. It's almost like he did it on purpose. And he’s so nervous since he came back, but he won’t say why.”
“Su She is not a bad person,” Lan Xichen replied, and it still startled him that he meant it. Something of the man he would have become lingered in Lan Xichen that was still suspicious of what Su She would have done, but in the end it was unfair to judge him on something that hadn’t happened yet. “He’s not the most popular junior in the sect, but he’s hardworking and very dedicated to his friendship with Huaisang. If they do have that sort of relationship…”
He hesitated for a second. The idea remained startlingly unpleasant, but he refused to linger on that.
“If it’s like that, then I think Huaisang could do a lot worse.”
Tension immediately drained from Nie Mingjue’s body, who smiled at his friend.
“That’s a relief. I've been really… did you hear that?"
Lan Xichen gave one short nod, his hand resting on his sword. The cracking noise they'd both heard was followed by more, then a series of low grunts. 
The demon bear had been found. 
 -
 The Night Hunt went well, not that Lan Xichen ever doubted it. He vaguely recalled that even in the other future they’d hunted that demon bear, and though he hadn’t remembered the details, he knew it had gone very well over there too. 
With their job done, Nie Mingjue and him warned the local magistrate that the threat had been handled before heading to a local inn to eat and relax for a moment. They both had a lot of work waiting for them at home, but Night Hunting together was always a chance to escape that for a time, and to pretend they were just two ordinary young men as careless as others their age. They usually went to the site of the Night Hunt quickly, aware that lives might be at stake, and then took several days to come home, travelling together as far as they could before separating. It felt like a bit of innocent mischief, and Lan Xichen loved it. 
The inn they ended up in was pleasant enough, though Lan Xichen’s standards were not very high at that moment. As long as he was safe from the bitter winter cold, with some warm tea, and decent enough food, he was satisfied. Still, it was a pleasant bonus to discover that there was a musician at the inn that day, playing on his flute whatever songs people requested as long as they dropped a few coins. The man was decently skilled, and some of the songs were nice enough that Lan Xichen wouldn’t have minded learning them.
To Lan Xichen’s surprise, Nie Mingjue too was paying attention to the performer. It struck him as quite odd, since his friend had little taste for songs unless they were weapons to use in battle.
“If that melody is one you like, I can ask for its name and try to learn it,” Lan Xichen offered after a moment, a little excited for a chance to please his friend. “It would not be a problem.”
The suggestion startled Nie Mingjue who tore his eyes from the performer, and seemed a little embarrassed to have been caught staring.
“That’s very generous of you, but I was just… thinking about Huaisang,” he admitted. “He’s really obsessed with music lately. Even raided our library in search of pieces to learn. I’m trying to understand what’s so great about that. At least with painting I can see if it’s good or not, and his birds force him to be responsible, but music… I’m really out of my depth with that, and I hate that I don’t know how to support him.”
Nie Mingjue sighed, as if it truly wounded him that his brother would have a passion so foreign to his own interests. Perhaps it did. Lan Xichen, whose tastes were so similar to his brother’s in most things, couldn’t imagine what it would be like to love so much someone so different from one’s self.
"Is he actually any good?” Nie Mingjue then asked. “he sounds great to me, but that's not saying much. Every musician sounds good to me. But some of the elders have said they're impressed by his skill, and said they’d like him to play sometimes when we have guests to entertain. They might just be polite." 
"Did he borrow a guqin from someone to continue practicing?" Lan Xichen asked, still surprised by the enthusiasm Nie Huaisang showed for music.
"Worse, he bought his own," Nie Mingjue explained, rolling his eyes. "That brat! He used up half his allowance for the year on that. I’ve warned him not to beg for money in six months when he has nothing to use for his trips to Gusu, he needs to learn not to overspend like that."
Lan Xichen froze, and for a second nearly fell into breathless panic. It was a stupid thing to worry about, compared to everything else he had changed, but… 
But in that other life too he'd gone on that Night Hunt with Nie Mingjue, who had then complained that his brother had spent a fortune on a series of exquisite fans, and even had made the same threat about not giving him more funds (which he still had done when Nie Huaisang had written to beg for money down the line). It had been the starting point of Nie Huaisang's collection, a collection that he'd continued working on for the rest of his life, no matter what else changed. 
Even that very last time Lan Xichen had met Nie Huaisang in that other life, after every lie had been revealed, even as he spilled all of his hatred for a man he'd grown to despise, Nie Huaisang had been flaunting a brand new fan, painted by a famous artist. 
Fans had appeared to be Nie Huaisang’s last joy left after he'd lost everything else, and if Lan Xichen had taken that from him… 
"You know," Nie Mingjue said, "whether he's good or not, I'm grateful you decided to teach him. He's so damn nervous all the time these days, but playing seems to calm him. So I was wondering if you might continue with the lessons?”
“Really?”
Nie Mingjue shrugged with affected indifference. 
“If that brat is finally interested in something I can pretend is related to cultivation… " he grumbled." I’m not asking you to teach him any Lan songs," he quickly added," but I wouldn’t mind if some of our elders thought that. If you have time, of course. It’s gonna be a rough year for you, with the students you have coming this time."
Lan Xichen wrinkled his nose at the thought. The year promised to be intense indeed. He hadn’t yet decided what to do about that Wei Wuxian person who would play such a role in his brother's life, sometimes for the better, often for the worse. In his memories of the future, the man he’d become had eventually accepted that Wei Wuxian was Lan Wangji’s true love, sharing with him a bond so strong that not even death had severed it. 
But Lan Xichen as he currently was couldn’t help thinking about all the pain and hardship that love had cost his brother, and he wasn’t sure if that was quite worth it. For all that he’d supported the acquaintance when it had started in that other life, Lan Xichen now wanted to prevent his brother from falling in love with that person. Surely it would be better if Lan Wangji didn't suffer like that. 
“I don’t mind continuing the lessons,” Lan Xichen said, who had already been planning for that anyway. “He’s quite good, and he actually could learn some of our songs, if he set his mind to it. Besides, he’s good company, we’ve had some good fun.”
Not to mention Nie Huaisang might be able to help with whatever Lan Xichen decided to do regarding Wei Wuxian, since they would become good friends. He might give a hand in preventing Lan Wangji from meeting that boy, or give a hint in the right direction if Lan Xichen decide to help that little romance.
“So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me then,” Nie Mingjue replied dryly. “A prettier friend who makes you laugh and calls you cute nicknames… I'm ditched so easily. Truly tragic.”
It was a joke. 
Having been friends with him for this many years, Lan Xichen knew how Nie Mingjue joked, as deadpan as his brother was dramatic, but this time the teasing hit a little too close to home. Lan Xichen hurriedly grabbed his friend’s hands and squeezed them tight. For a moment he found himself fighting to breathe, for which Nie Mingjue threw him a concerned look.
“I would never betray you,” Lan Xichen managed to wheeze out. “I swear! You… You are my friend, the person I trust the most, the person who knows me best. I would never choose someone else over you!”
Not again, anyway.
Not while knowing what the cost of it might be.
Of course even in that other future he’d thought he’d been acting for Nie Mingjue’s good. He’d thought he was helping. He had trusted Jin Guangyao's sweet words, trusted the power of Cleansing, trusted… 
Nie Mingjue freed one of his hands, and leaned closer to rub circles on Lan Xichen's back, encouraging him to breathe. It was Lan Xichen's worst attack since the night he awoke with memories not quite his own. Panic and guilt mixed together, closing his throat tighter so no air could get to his lungs. It lasted long enough that Lan Xichen wondered if it might be possible for him to die like this. 
Just as soon as that idea hit him, his body's desperate need for air became stronger than the power of his memories, and he was able to take one shaky breath. He gasped and coughed, all too aware of the eyes of other patrons on him, while Nie Mingjue continued rubbing his back. 
"Wipe your face," Nie Mingjue gently ordered when his friend had calmed down, handing him a napkin. "Do you need to go out for some fresh air, or do you prefer to sit?" 
"Sit," Lan Xichen replied in a raspy voice as he dried his tears. "Sorry. It happens sometimes. It looks worse than it is."
Nie Mingjue said nothing. A fresh pot of tea was ordered, which soothed Lan Xichen's poor throat and warmed him up again. He still felt a little fragile, but put on a smile to hide it. This, in turn, only made Nie Mingjue frown. 
"Your uncle told me he was worried about your health when I saw him some weeks ago, but I didn't realise it was this bad."
"My health is fine," Lan Xichen protested. After one sharp look from his friend, he continued: "It really isn't that bad. I've been a little anxious, that's all. It's hard not to be in the current climate." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Haven't the Wen just absorbed another sect?" 
Nie Mingjue grimly nodded. The leader of a sect had just died, and Wen Ruohan had promptly married his youngest son to the man's daughter and claimed the whole sect. It was not something they could openly discuss, but the issue was serious and should have distracted Nie Mingjue from the panic attack he'd witnessed. 
It did not quite work. 
"Your uncle too mentioned something about that when I saw him. He used to be pretty sure nothing would happen, but lately he's been keeping me updated on that sort of news." 
Lan Xichen hesitated. His plan regarding the war, so far, had been to stay out of things. The Sunshot campaign appeared to him like a terrible thing that could not, should not be avoided, like a great fire that would allow for a healthier regrowth. Perhaps he might have hoped to lessen the damage, but ultimately nothing less than a war could rid them of Wen Ruohan. 
That plan to allow for the war to unfold naturally was countered by two things. 
The first was that Lan Xichen had already changed the way it would happen. If everything went as he hoped, Meng Yao would never become a spy amidst the Wens, something which had been crucial to their victory (or something that had appeared to be so to the man Lan Xichen had become; he was ever so fond of that Meng Yao, perhaps the memories of that dark future were tainted by that). It was after all unlikely that the Jiangs would ever give Meng Yao any help to join Lanling Jin, his first step toward spying on Wen Ruohan… and that was supposing Meng Yao even survived long enough to take part in the war, when most of Yunmeng Jiang was fated to be slaughtered.
And this was the second issue with Lan Xichen’s initial plan. He had, from the start, been uncomfortable with allowing the slaughter of the Lotus Pier to happen, even when it would someday become agreed that nothing less than this attack on a Great Sect could have convinced the cultivation world to finally rebel against the Wens. But just because people in the future found ways to justify that disaster didn’t make it right to do nothing to avoid it. Lan Xichen was taking measures to protect his sect, wasn’t it his responsibility to also help others?
Having been cursed with that knowledge, wasn’t it his duty to…
“Breathe,” Nie Mingjue said, his hand on Lan Xichen’s shoulder once more. “Slowly, breathe in, breathe out. There you go.”
Lan Xichen obeyed, and managed to avoid another attack, though only narrowly, and only because the fear of the Sunshot Campaign was his alone. The man he would have become had made his peace with the horror witnessed during that time, but Lan Xichen himself was overcome by terror every time he thought about what was to come.
It was a burden too heavy for his shoulders alone, and he alone couldn’t have done much to prevent that dark future from coming to pass, at least where that war was concerned.
So perhaps he needed to not do it alone. What good had secrets done to Jin Guangyao, to Nie Huaisang, in that future that would not be? It had turned them into monsters, bitter and too willing to hurt others, and for what? Jin Guangyao had lost everything, Nie Huaisang had become isolated from everyone who had ever cared about him, and all just because they wanted to be in control, because they thought nobody around them was worthy of being told the truth.
Lan Xichen refused to become like them
“Mingjue-xiong, do you trust me?” he asked when he had calmed down again, and breathing wasn’t such a struggle.
“You wouldn’t be my friend if I didn’t trust you,” came the answer, honest and earnest and so painful that Lan Xichen thought panic would seize him again over that underserved trust.
But this time he managed to keep his calm, either because he was too exhausted to panic again, or because his mind saw this as a chance to right some of the wrong he would have caused in the future.
“I have something to tell you,” Lan Xichen said as he stood up. “But we’ll need to be somewhere more private. It’s going to sound completely crazy to you, but… you need to know.”
Nie Mingjue looked worried but quietly stood up as well. They left the inn together and took flight, making their sword rise high in the sky, where no one might spy on them without their notice.
“So, here is what happened,” Lan Xichen explained when he felt he could do it safely. “Around this time last year, I had a vision…”
He wouldn’t, couldn’t say everything, because it would have been too cruel to plague Nie Mingjue with the knowledge of his own early death, to tell him how loss and rage would turn his beloved brother into a man he might have despised. But the rest, the Wen’s exactions, the war that loomed over them… this Lan Xichen shared with more details than he’d ever given to Lan Qiren. Nie Mingjue listened, first with astonishment, then with concern, eventually with anger. 
"Are you sure?" Nie Mingjue asked when Lan Xichen had finished a quick tale of what was to come. 
"I know it's odd, and I won't blame you if you find it impossible to believe." 
Nie Mingjue did not reply right away, a deep frown creasing his forehead. 
"You've already had proof, and you're sure of it. That's good enough for me. Now let's find a quiet place to talk about this. I'll need you to tell me everything you remember about the Wen's forces, so I can start preparing." 
Lan Xichen felt breathless again, but this time it was gratitude overwhelming him. He'd forgotten how good Nie Mingjue was. Those last few months had spoiled so much, souring old memories, but there had been such great times before that. There would be even more, in this new life, this new chance they'd been given. 
This time, he swore to himself, he would be worthy of that affection.
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steamberrystudio · 4 years ago
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My answer to this was so long I decided to do it as a normal post. @_@
I wouldn't say I have a secret per se. I've developed or else discovered a few different techniques that help me stay focused.
I think if you really want to write some larger projects and stay focused through them, the most important thing is to figure out what is stopping you. In my opinion, everyone has different things that hold them back from writing. In order to develop a strategy to write more effectively, you have to first identify why you're not writing.
That's just to say that what works for me isn't going to work for you unless your hold-ups are the same as mine.
My biggest struggles with writing are:
 Writing myself into a corner
This is just usually the result of bad planning. By nature, I'm a very seat-of-my-pants style writer. I come up with a lot of ideas as I write and over-planning can really bog my writing down and get me stuck. So I've had to find the level of planning that keeps me from getting stuck but that also allows me the flexibility to run with spontaneous ideas.
For me, this involves breaking the story into bitesized pieces and doing a detailed summary/synopsis of each section (each chapter, each scene) but avoiding very detailed outlines. Detailed outlines just weigh me down so I stick with focusing on summarising the events at a slightly higher level and leaving the details to be determined as I write.
So I might have something like:
Ari and Morgan are training in the training room.
Ari is teaching Morgan about the concept of falling safely (for instance, if someone throws you or hits you, you fall in a specific way that keeps you from getting injured.)
As he explains this concept, Morgan realises the idea of "falling with grace so you can get back up and continue fighting" is a sort of metaphfor for life.
She brings it up to Ari and he admits he chose this specific starting point because he felt it was something she needed to hear.
 I'll create something like this for each scene and then that forms my basic structure for a scene, and I flesh it out as I write it.
If I do end up getting stuck because my planning wasn't great, rather than floundering in place and getting frustrated, I just make myself back track and re-plan or push ahead through the scene. I do not let myself stop and fret about it. I'll forge ahead with a not-great solution if I have to just in order to keep my forward momentum.
 Getting stuck within a scene
This is that situation where you are at point A and you know you need to get to point B, but you're stuck on the wording and exactly how to make that happen. I've just learned that I cannot allow one scene to hold me up otherwise I just get frustrated and lose my motivation and descend into a proper writers' block. (In my opinion a lot of writer's block is fueled by frustration and discouragement rather than not having ideas).
Usually in this situation, I will list out the scene "beats" (in other words the most important moments in the scene) in a small beat sheet. Or, basically, just a list. Like literal bullet points.
You can kind of think of this as creating stepping stones from my starting point A and leading to my ending point B.  These are not detailed. They may not even be complete sentences.  It's just me listing out the important moments the scene has to hit.
Ari demonstrates how to fall (using the principles of ukemi)
Morgan notes it can be a metaphor for life and he agrees.
He shares a story about his mentor teaching this concept to him.
Morgan appreciates the advice and seeing a bit further into his personality.
This is a moment she realises he's more thoughtful than he initially comes across.
They move to Morgan having to actually demonstrate the fall technique. She's nervous.
Arit tells her not to worry because when she falls he will be there to catch her and help her up.
He's speaking literally but she gets the sense it's also figuratively.
 I then go back and flesh these out so they are complete sentences and fully connected to each other so that one transitions smoothly to the next. I fully detail this out with dialogue and narrative if I can. But in some cases, I'm still a little stuck on wording and I will connect with the most basic of sentences and almost no real descriptive flavour.
Because at this point, I'm not even trying to make it good or interesting. I'm just trying to get a continuous path from point A to B even if it's really sparse. I just want something you can read smoothly. Because I can flesh it out fully and polish it up later. The point isn't to create a polished scene. It's just to create a scene that functions and can be read smoothly.
 Getting Frustrated with Quality
This one, I think stems from the above two problems.
A lot of times I find myself getting frustrated with the quality of my writing. I know my rough drafts are really bad. This is why I've always referred to them jokingly as "potato drafts" - they're like a dirty potato that comes out of the ground. They're not pleasant and they're kinda gross. Certainly, they're not nice to read. The characterisation is flat, the descriptions are crude or non-existent, etc. Sometimes it can be disheartening because I'm writing and writing and I know what I'm writing isn't *good.*
I've really gotten myself accustomed to a thorough editing process though. So if I'm not liking something in my early drafts, I don't let it weigh me down or hold me up and I don't stop and edit it. I tell myself I'll come back to it and edit it later. I'll fix it later. And, telling myself that, I just push forward.
Being able to accept that rough drafts suck and do not need to be perfect, and that they *will not* be perfect is probably one of the most important things for me. I find this internal struggle against the imperfections of our early drafts is really prevalent. We always tend to think that our writing has to be perfect, and start struggling with self-doubt when it's not. But it doesn't have to be perfect right away. It's called a rough draft because it's not perfect. We need to be able to accept our potato drafts.
Writing potato drafts that have to be polished up is kind of part of the process. The ability to accept this is one of the main things that helps me write as much and as fast as I do.
 Getting Distracted
This is obviously something a lot of writers face. Barring a writer having a physical issue that is causing them to be distracted, I think the only real solution to it is discipline. Sometimes you really just have to...do the thing. It's a decision you make.
That said, I've found the pomodoro technique helps a lot for me because it takes a massive project and breaks into manageable pieces. So this is a time management technique that utilises a timer. You set the timer for 25 minutes and then you write for 25 minutes. And at the end, you take a 5 or 10 minute break.. And you do it again. And again. And again.
Many people have found this technique to be helpful for managing time and staying productive. It really works for me as well. There are timers online or timer apps for your phone that are set up for this technique so I really recommend trying for people who have difficulty just staying focused for writing sessions. I use it a lot when I'm struggling.
I also use really strict word count goals (daily goals, weekly goals, etc) and track them in a spread sheet that calculates things like how many words are remaining for my total goal, for my daily goal. It tracks how many words I have to write per day to have the project done by a specific date, etc. This method is really, really helpful for me personally.
Knowing I have to write 1200 words a day to have Lance's route done by mid-April just kind of helps take a overwhelming word count and break it into portions that are much more manageable. And I think you'll notice a recurring theme for me is breaking the project into manageable portions instead of trying to focus on a much bigger whole.
I really approach writing in a mechanical way - as if it's work. Because it is work. It is also a creative endeavour but I can't view as this obscure creative process. I have to break it down into a more tangible process in order to stay focused.
Losing my zeal/motivation/passing/inspiration for a project
This is a another that I feel a lot of people do struggle with. We see it expressed in a myriad of ways. "My characters aren't talking to me." or "My muse is being difficult" or "I can't stay focused on one project and get distracted by new ideas."
We're not special in this regard. Everyone has billions of shiny ideas. Everyone has days when the words don't want to come. These aren't unique experiences as much as I think we sometimes try to tell ourselves that our struggle is somehow different. All of these are essentially ways of saying "I'm struggling with this project or I just don't really find it interesting anymore."
I think a lot of things can contribute to this feeling of losing your passion for a given project. Generally, for me, it's actually one of the above issues that is the source of losing motivation. Sometimes it's just mild burn out or getting bored. With long projects, there's always a point where the project just isn't exciting anymore and it's tempting to start focusing on something else.
This is another place where I feel you just have to take responsibility for your own feelings. You can blame it on your characters (who aren't real by the way) or your 'muse' (who isn't real by the way), but ultimately it is you who has to make the decision to continue working. It comes to finishing the project or not finishing. If you want to finish it, your only choice is to work on it. That's the only method for finishing a project. You can decide how that happens and what it looks like - how you manage your time and everything. But ultimately you do have to work on the thing. And, again, barring some kind of physical barrier (like genuinely not having time or being ill), it's just deciding to do it. There's really no secret ingredient there.
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If you have hold ups (like the ones I mentioned above), then it's necessary to identify them and come up with a solution that works for you. You can't fix a problem if you don't know what the problem is. So if you're struggling to finish projects, really stop to think about about why so you can come up with solutions that work tailored to your needs.
I think working on and finishing large projects is about learning to overcome the hurdles in your way. In my case, I’ve just learned what the usual roadblocks are for me and I’ve come up with ways to help me over them or around them. That’s really the only reason I write as much as I do. It’s not a secret or a special technique or anything.
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sondepoch · 4 years ago
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Chapter 4
Hearts on Three (Satan x Reader)
The athlete and the nerd. The rich kid and the scholarship student. The girl who will constantly joke about breaking your knee caps and the boy who will actually do it. There are so many ways to describe your relationship with Satan. Too many, if you’re being honest. He’s your best friend. The smartest tutor you’ve ever had. He also spends thousands of dollars for you at the drop of a hat and holds your hand when you’re feeling down. And in the beginning, that's okay. Neither of you let yourselves get bogged down by labels, both of you content to just savor this newfound friendship. But deeper feelings always have a way of complicating things. And for better or for worse, you and Satan are no exception.
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎
MASTERLIST
“Bro, you good?”
Satan blinks the sleep from his eyes at the feeling of a pencil tapping against his shoulder, groggily turning to face the owner of the voice that tore him from his precious slumber.
“...bwha?” is the educated response Satan can come up with in his sleep-addled mind.
Solomon snorts.
“Dude, this is the third time you’ve fallen asleep in class this week.” The white-haired athlete grins. “Keep this up and I’m gonna score better than you on tomorrow’s test.”
“We have a…”
Satan groans inwardly. He has a test tomorrow? The blonde blinks up at the board. It takes a second for his vision to clear, but then it registers that he’s in math class, and everything else falls into place. A quick scan over the whiteboard confirms that Satan didn’t miss anything important, that the chapter the teacher is covering is something Satan taught himself roughly two years back, but the boy still groans to himself in frustration. He doesn’t like to sleep through class. Ever.
“Thanks for waking me up,” Satan mumbles to his friend when he glances at the clock. It seems that Solomon let him doze for nearly the entire period, opting to wake him up a mere minute before the bell should ring. 
“No problem. But seriously, I’ve never seen you slack this hard. You good?”
“I’m fine. I’m just tired because…” Satan trails off, hesitant to confess that the reason he’s so exhausted is because of you. No doubt, Solomon would read way too deeply into that—nope, wait, it looks like Solomon figured it out on his own from the shit-eating grin he’s now sporting.
“Ah, your future girlfriend, is it?” Solomon leans back in his chair, grinning. “The love life is rough, buddy. Make sure you’re using protection at night, though.”
Satan has never been more relieved to hear a bell ring.
“Would you lower your voice?” He growls when a couple of kids passing by give him weird looks. Satan glares hard at Solomon, but the latter gives a grand total of zero (0) shits.
“Sorry,” Solomon says in a voice that makes it all too clear that he’s not sorry.
Satan has never hated his schedule more than in the next moment when he realizes that Solomon is in his next class and that they can’t split ways. Worse yet, it’s Physical Education—the stupidest course of all time because all it consists of is kids walking in circles for an entire hour and being “encouraged” to run. And somehow, to top it off, Satan always ends up walking with Solomon. 
“We’re not together,” Satan grunts to his friend when they’re outside doing laps around the track. “It’s just that it’s fucking hard to balance club duties, her volleyball schedule, and my own studies.” 
“I totally get it,” Solomon blurts. “But you’ve gotta get used to it, bro. Imagine how much harder it’s gonna be to when the two of you start dating! You’ll have to take her out on dates, and—fuck—have you ever been to one of her games? She has crazy stamina, man. The two of you’ll be at it all night.”
Satan thinks back to freshman orientation, wondering why, of all the places to sit, he chose the seat next to the most annoying person in the entire academy. 
“Solomon, can you shut the fuck up?”
Solomon, unsurprisingly, does not shut the fuck up.
With enough difficulty, Satan does finally manage to steer the topic away from Solomon’s matchmaking attempts and towards more normal topics. Namely, Satan’s matchmaking attempts. Of course, just as Satan places no weight on Solomon’s opinions on his love life, Solomon completely ignores Satan’s advice to stop beating around the bush and just ask Asmo out, the athlete having the nerve to say “I’ll ask Asmo out when you ask our volleyball captain out”—as if you and Satan have a remotely similar history to Asmo and Solomon, who, as now known by the entire campus, are both desperately pining for each other but are too dumb to see it.
Satan sighs, shaking his head.
Idiots, he thinks. I’m surrounded by idiots.
It’s to this thought that Satan hears someone calling his name in the distance: an extremely familiar voice, almost grating on the ears, but a voice he knows he should not be hearing. 
Satan shakes his head, deciding that he’ll clear up his schedule today so he gets a nap in because surely, surely he must be imagining you calling his voice. Surely you’re not actually on this track field. Surely you’re not cutting English, of all courses, a subject that Satan insists you pay extra attention to because it’s the single course you're most likely to fail.
“Bro,” Solomon whispers, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
Satan closes his eyes, trying to see if pretending that he doesn’t hear your footsteps sprinting closer and closer towards him will make it so that they’re not real.
It doesn’t work.
“Satan!” You shriek, now close enough that he can’t pretend you’re a figment of his imagination anymore. “Satan! Satan, Satan, Satan!”
The blonde continues staring resolutely forward, committing himself to the ideology of I do not see it, therefore it is not happening.
Unfortunately, Satan sees it. And so it happens.
Without any warning whatsoever, you lurch forward and grapple on to Satan, wrapping your limbs around him like a literal koala as you yeet yourself onto him with enough force that Satan is just barely able to remain standing when you attach yourself to him while shrieking: ”Satan! Guess what, guess what!”
The blonde is at a loss for words, so dumbfounded and taken aback that it’s all he can do to sputter out a confused “w-what?” 
You grin at him with a smile so wide it looks like it hurts, and Satan can only stare as you reveal what made you so happy.
“I got an 85 on the Shakespeare test!” 
The Shakespeare test, the man thinks, trying to remember.
The Shakespeare test, he repeats in his mind, a vision of you cram-reading the final acts of King Lear flashing through his mind
The Shakespeare test! Satan realizes with a start, suddenly recalling how it was a test he expected you to fail.
Satan’s mouth drops open at that. He had been prepared for you to get a 20, a 30; the highest you told him to expect was a 60, and even that was below the fail margin, but an 85? Holy shit, Satan might cry if he got a grade like that, but for you, it’s a genuine accomplishment, and he’s fucking proud.
“You’re joking,” he blurts, already calculating how this will affect your average and, holy shit, it’s actually going to pull you up to a passing grade.
“I’m not!” you declare with so much happiness that it’s infectious, and then the two of you are hugging and laughing except that Satan’s literally carrying you so it’s awkward, but neither of you care because this is the highest grade you’ve pulled all year, and Satan is finally beginning to feel like the late hours and the sleepless nights are all worth it.
The two of you are grinning and beaming at each other even when you finally de-koala yourself from Satan and land on the ground; and it’s at this precise moment that Satan realizes just how many people are watching. 
The blonde clears his throat awkwardly. 
It felt so natural when you tackled Satan midair, but he’s now beginning to realize just how intimate that whole scene looked to any onlookers. He stiffens, and you seem to notice, your own demeanor turning sheepish in turn.
A low whistle from next to you diffuses the situation.
“An 85, huh?” Solomon slings an arm around your shoulder, sandwiching you between him and Satan as the three of you continue walking along the track field—effectively sending a message to anyone watching that the show is over. “Not bad, Captain, not bad.”
“It’s amazing, Solomon!” you cry out in turn, grinning as you lean into his shoulder. (Satan doesn’t feel weird when he sees that, he swears he doesn’t.) “I haven’t scored this high since, well, I dunno. I don’t really pay attention to the scores I get because they’re always so low!”
Solomon laughs at that, definitely remembering when he was the same way. 
“It’s all thanks to Satan, no?” Solomon prods, and the blonde shoots a sharp look at his friend. He’s up to something. Satan isn’t sure if he wants to know what.
“Oh, definitely! He literally read every single text out loud to me! I left this one book for the very last day, and he actually stayed with me and—”
“You need to get back to class,” Satan swiftly interrupts, his ears turning red. “You did well on one test, but you need to pay attention if you want to continue.”
“Oh, but—”
Satan practically shoves you away, gesturing wildly the whole time with a vigor that has you confused but compliant as you slowly depart, doubtlessly making your way back to the English building as slowly as you possibly can.
When you’re gone, Solomon snorts.
“You read to her?” He asks, expression brimming with mirth.
“It’s not—it’s an effective studying technique that we use to save time—”
“Oh my god,” Solomon mumbles under his breath, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. “Next thing you know, I’ll find out that she’s sleeping on your shoulder or something. Seriously, Satan, way to make a move early on.”
Satan is incredibly grateful that Solomon doesn’t see how his face changes at that part, a flush rising on his cheeks when he realizes that you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder not once, now, but several times. 
“Shut up,” Satan grumbles, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible.
“No way, man!” Solomon cackles with laughter, finding great amusement in his friend’s frustration. “Oh my god, the two of you are so perfect for each other that it hurts! Here, take a look at this—”
Solomon pulls up his phone and opens up his Photo Gallery, swiping twice before handing it over to Satan.
“Just look at that, dude—” he gestures vaguely at the picture. “You two already look like you’re dating.”
Satan stares at the image, his feet slowing down. It’s a picture of you and Satan hugging, taken conveniently when you were still koala-ing Satan with your entire body because of course Solomon was able to get a picture that quickly, and although Satan can’t see either of your faces due to the side angle, even he has to acknowledge that the two of you really do look like a couple.
“It’s not like that,” Satan mumbles, shaking his head as he hands the phone back to Solomon. 
This might be the first time, though, that he actually entertains the thought of what it would be if it was like that.
It’s not a terrible thought.
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You hate away-scrimmages for a lot of reasons.
The first reason is that, more often than not, the environment is hostile. The other team is always bound to have more support, more cheering, more motivation powering them forward while yours has nothing more than the girls on the bench and the loud voice of your coach. 
The second reason is that they always feel like a waste of time. Scrimmages, by nature, are meant to be an extension of practice. So what’s the point of a scrimmage if you spend more time driving to the school than you spend playing against the school? It’s totally backwards, in your opinion, and pretty stupid.
The third reason is the most compelling reason, though. And it’s probably because this is the issue you’re dealing with right now: the fact that at away-scrimmages, if there does happen to be someone from your school who puts in the time and effort to come watch, the pressure on your shoulders instantly triples. Scrimmages are supposed to be fun, enjoyable. They’re nothing more than practice matches to collect data and get ready for when you’ll go against the school for real—but when people from your school travel such a long distance to watch you play not even a game but a scrimmage, it feels like you owe it to them to bring home a win, to succeed, to make the match worth their while.
And while Satan doubtlessly had no intentions of adding to your stress when he asked to watch you play at today's scrimmage, that’s exactly what has happened.
“Listen, girls,” your voice is low as your team groups up in what will likely be the last huddle of the match. “I want us to win this. Really badly. Do what it takes, but bring home that victory.” You take a moment to recite the weaknesses of the other team, trying to downplay their skill and build confidence in your own teammates, but ultimately, you all know the truth. “It all comes down to how we play this point, girls, so let’s play our best.”
You glance around at your teammates, stealing a glance at the bleachers where Satan sits, watching the scrimmage.
You want to make him proud.
“Wolves on three: one, two, three—”
“Wolves!” your teammates echo, raising their fists as the lot of you split off into your serve receive positions.
As it stands, match point is weighing against you, and your team is at a heavy disadvantage. From what you’ve gathered on the opposing team, their libero is a literal legend when it comes to front row saves, and they have an amazing right-side hitter, one that easily rivals your own skill. This entire game, their team has been leading, but all your team needs to secure victory is a measly three points, three points that you know you can obtain if you try hard enough.
You crouch low, getting ready for the opposing team’s serve.
The first two points are easy for your team to get: the first point comes when the opposing team’s outside hitter rams the ball into the net, and the second comes when your team's right-side hitter manages a clean hit through a line of defense that jumped a second too late.
The final point, as always, is the hardest to get.
It just so happens that it’s your serve, so you consciously aim at what you think is the weakest link in the opposing team, but they’re able to recover. From then on, it’s an intense volley back and forth until it’s just you versus the right-side hitter, #18, the two of you fighting it out in a rhythmic contest of pass-set-hit that just won’t end.
It’s at this time that you feel the pressure beating down on you heavier than ever before. More than anything, you want to win. Not just because you’re naturally competitive, not just because you really fucking hate #18 right now (seriously, what business does she have being as good as you?), but because you know that Satan is watching. 
You really, really, really want to bring home a win for him.
It’s to this thought that you set the ball over on the first touch, sabotaging the flow of the game and ruining the other team’s momentum. 
It happens in slow motion as the ball falls, slowly, slowly.
The entire room seems to hold its breath as three girls on the opposing team, #18 included, all pancake-dive for the ball. Sensing their success, you bend your knees, preparing for the ball’s return.
It never comes.
The blow of the ref’s whistle is surreal, almost as faraway as the subsequent cheers of your own team, so empty and distant as they instantly group up for a team tackle—but for the first time, you don’t join them. 
Instead, you’re left staring up at Satan who, from his spot on the bleachers, is grinning down at you with a proud look on his face.
You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy to win a scrimmage. 
Everything else passes by in a blur. Your team regroups and changes out of your uniforms, and the lot of you board the bus that’s set to bring you back to the Royal Academy of Barbatos. 
You, however, stay back.
“I’ll get a ride from my tutor,” you tell your coach, bidding farewell to your friends. 
The man arches an eyebrow at you, asking once and then twice if you’re certain you don’t want to stay with the team, but you nod your head. 
Weird, you think as you go to find Satan, who’s waiting for you at his car. This must be the first time I’ve prioritized someone else over the team.
You decide not to dwell on that thought. 
Instead, you choose to think about how sick Satan’s ride is.
“Oh my god,” you mumble, gawking as soon as you see the car. “Satan, I knew you were loaded, but I had no clue you were this loaded.”
Satan laughs at your reaction, grinning when you can do nothing but stand and stare at the sheer beauty of it: a slick, black Bugatti with a single green stripe down the middle. 
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” you coo, marveling at the interior when you slide into the passenger seat and slug your volleyball bag unceremoniously in the back. “Satan, I think I like this car better than I like you.”
The blonde gives a short laugh, rolling his eyes as he gets inside next to you. “I’ll let you drive it someday,” he offers.
You’re quick to decline, shuddering to think about how many more sports scholarships you’d need to ever pay such a thing off if you were to crash it. 
Satan can only smile at that, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t hear.
“Your match was amazing, by the way,” he says before you can probe him about what he said. “It looked really intense. It’s impressive that you were able to keep a level head even at the end.”
You don’t tell Satan that your head wasn’t level, that you were practically dizzy with fear from the possibility of losing in front of him.
“It comes with practice,” you instead choose to say. “Something we’ve gotta do tonight!”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
You shoot Satan an innocent smile in response.
“Your match lasted a good hour, and I saw you practicing with your team before your bus left.” Satan shakes his head, a frown beginning to spread across his lips. “You’re going to destroy your muscles if you try to do any more. Even you need to rest.”
“Yeah, but resting is boring.” You lean back in your seat and stare at your palms. “Besides, that scrimmage was way too close for comfort. Didn’t you see number eighteen? She was, like, really good. If both our teams make it to the state tournament, we’re going to have a lot of trouble dealing with her unless we practice like crazy until then.”
“Exactly,” Satan says. “Your team needs to practice, not you. The best thing you can do for them is relax and make sure you don’t overexert yourself.”
“But don't you want to reward me for getting a good grade on my Shakespeare test?” A smile curls onto your lips because you know that's something Satan has been thinking about. “Come on, just a few balls? It’ll be quick, I promise. I just want to try a few moves out.”
Satan lets out an exasperated sigh that lets you know he’s agreeing.
“Yes!” You exclaim, resisting the urge to jump out of your seat and hug him because he probably won't be as inclined to help you if you make him crash his car. “Thank you so much, Satan! I won’t be long, I promise!”
The blonde doesn’t say anything to that, sighing softly as he switches his destination from the student parking lot to the on-campus gym you usually conduct your practice sessions in. It takes a while, but when the two of you get there, the spot Satan pulls into is far from the doors. It's a necessity since all the other spots are taken, but it makes you raise an eyebrow because this is the first time you’ve seen this gym even remotely filled up.
You nudge Satan out of his car regardless.
“Alright, so today I want you to make my tosses higher than normal. Number eighteen was taller than me, so I’ll need to increase my jump height if I want to be able to break past her defense.” You pull him to the door, wasting no time to get inside. “And don’t worry if your tosses aren’t perfect! It’ll be good practice for...for when…”
Your train of thought is disrupted when you see how packed the gym is.
“Damn,” Satan mumbles next to you, frowning. 
There must be some kind of athletic event coming up. That's the only explanation you can think of for the picture in front of you. As it stands, there are tons of students inside this gym, everyone practicing their own sport. It’s ridiculous, honestly, because even sports that are traditionally outdoors are practicing inside. You can see Solomon leading his soccer team through a few drills on the far side of the court, taking up one half of one of the six nets set up in the gym.
“They must be here because it’s so muddy outside. All the outdoor sports are practicing inside.” Satan crosses his arms. “Let’s come back tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to get an effective practice in.”
“No!” you immediately exclaim, if only because you see a group of people setting up to leave. “Look, we can take that side of the court. Let’s go! I don’t want someone else to get there first.”
It’s a bit harder to find a spare cart of volleyballs than it was to find a spot to practice, but after checking enough supply rooms, you finally find what you’re looking for. After that, it takes you all of two minutes to wheel the cart over to Satan where you present your findings to him proudly.
“Shouldn’t you stretch first?” He frowns. “I don’t want you to get injured.”
“Come on, Satan. I just came back from a match! My muscles are all loosened up, so let’s get straight into it! The faster we can get this done, the faster we can return to the dorm, so let’s hurry!”
The boy doesn’t look wholly convinced, but he acquiesces to your request nonetheless, throwing you a toss higher than usual as you jump to slam it down.
It’s only once the two of you have returned to your usual rhythm that you begin to feel the stretch in your thighs, and for a moment, you stop to consider the fact that it might have been better if you’d stretched after all, but you ultimately decide that you’ve already started so there’s no point in stopping.
The practice whizzes by, as usual. It's almost pitiful how quickly the end of it nears.
“Three more balls,” Satan says, glancing at the number of balls left in the cart. “Then we go back, alright?”
“Sure thing!” you exclaim with pride, the familiar sense of satisfaction after a practice session well-done setting in.
Satan tosses you the third-last ball, and your feet begin following it as soon as it leaves his fingers. Your feet follow a familiar pattern—left, right, left, jump!—and you force yourself to put in a little bit of extra power to increase the height of your jump, letting your palm collide with the ball just a few inches beneath the peak of the arc to let it slam onto the court at an angle so steep that even a reinforced defense wouldn’t have been able to save it.
“Perfect!” you shout the moment your feet land on the floor. “Two more like that, and we’re set!”
Even Satan can’t hold off a smile at that.
Already in-tune with you, he doesn’t bother asking if you’re ready before throwing the next ball into the air. 
Again, you go through the motions that have been ingrained into your muscle memory since you were eight years old. The sting of pain against your palm is familiar, too familiar, and you’re still high in your jump when the ball spikes down onto the floor.
What isn’t familiar is the immediate calls of concern from across the court.
Everything seems to happen in slow motion.
You turn your head to the source of the noise, the loud group of soccer players who are on the far side of the gym and are all shouting to watch out. You stare at them in confusion for a moment, squinting to look for what they're all pointing at, because right now you don’t see anything to watch out for, and why—
Your eyebrows furrow.
Why are they all looking at you?
That thought is the only warning you get before your feet land—and the first thing you realize is that you landed way too early, that you should have been in the air for longer given the height of your jump. That’s when you realize that you haven’t landed, that your foot is instead twisting on top of a soccer ball that’s rolled directly underneath you.
Your hands go out to catch yourself when you fall, but there’s nothing you can do about the swell of pain that bursts from your ankle when the soccer ball pops out from underneath you.
There’s a moment of trepidation, a single second where your body is completely suspended in the air, and the gym is silent.
In that quiet moment, you hear Satan call out your name in a terrified voice.
Then, the ground collides with you and hard, and there’s nothing you can do as the pain you’d been feeling earlier blossoms out from all parts of your body.
MASTERLIST
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎
Word count: 4.2k
Notes: ive returneddd :D this chapter is dedicated to the vball captain who, in my freshman year of high school, injured herself. her injury was more dramatic, given that it was way more severe and it was during an important match, but irene, i carry you in my heart <3
Comment & Like
Thank you for reading <3
I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.
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sunflowerspectre · 3 years ago
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Strange Magic | Ballroom Blitz
This is a 5k commission for @krystalmoonfae
Title: Ballroom Blitz Summary: As a newfound couple, Marianne and Bog work on grasping their new normal while trying to merge both of their kingdoms and cultures. Seeing as both sides have a ball quickly approaching, they see it as a great chance to be able to teach the other about their cultures. Rating: T for mentions of drinking (and Griselda) Tags: fluff, ballroom dancing, cultural differences, minor politics, minor mentions of discrimination 
Read it on Archive of Our Own
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Ballroom Blitz
“Is all of this really necessary?”
Marianne looks over at Bog as he stands in an uncomfortable stance, looking himself over with bristling wings. She has to admit, it does not suit him (some part of her whispers how fairy clothes never will and she needs to stop expecting them to; that it is okay that it does not). She does not need to worry about fitting in anymore, she thought that she already accepted that.
Bog is not Roland, she reminds herself. He will not give her grief if she wears something out of season or if his outfit is not up to par and ‘perfect.’ Bog cherishes individuality, he does not squander it. Which is why, even if he will not outright admit it, he hates trying on these ridiculous clothes. But he will, at least, try .
Bog glances at her from the corner of his eyes as she takes off the vest given to him, fluttering around the room in disarray as if any of the other vests already tossed around will be any better. He can see the worry and frustration in her brow. He will try anything and everything for her.
“Calm down, tough girl,” Bog tries to ease the tension.
“I can’t calm down.” Marianne admits, “I just want this to go well.”
Marianne plops down on the flowery bed with a tired, frustrated groan, her wings spreading out behind her. While her father was not thrilled about the idea of Bog being in the castle, nevertheless actually being inside of her room, he can not exactly keep the other King out; his daughter, after all, is an adult. However, she knows that Bog’s visit is kept on a need-to-know basis, as is all of his visits.
Which is  exactly why this ball is so important. She is not ashamed to be with Bog, but she is ashamed that everyone is trying to get her to keep it a secret, like it’s a scandal. She is tired of people, especially her father, telling her what is and is not acceptable for her; the latter, she hears much more than the former. She can decide that for herself; and she has decided. She wants Bog and she wants everyone else to realize just how wrong they are about him.
“Do you know how much easier it will be if this goes well,” Marianne ventures carefully, her voice soft. Bog flitters above her, hand outreached to hold hers, his wings clicking to create an insect-like noise that she relishes in; something about it brings comfort to the silence that has befallen them. The spikes of his armor and skin would destroy the delicate bed (a mistake they will not be repeating since it was so hard to explain in order to get it replaced).
Marianne takes the outstretched hand, a soft smile on her face as she notices the nervousness in his expression. She continues softly, a soft blush brushing her cheeks. Her stomach flutters and she loves that he can get this reaction out of her just from being around her, that he brings this side out of her. She thought that after Roland, the butterflies that had once fluttered in her chest were dead, but Bog - he had brought them back to life without even trying.
“I just want everyone to see you the way I do.”
His forehead pressed against hers as their eyes close; he relishes in how warm her skin feels against his forehead. She can feel the comforting coolness of armor, pleated skin. His face is always the safest place for her to touch; the twigs are not as sharp, there’s less barbs for her skin to catch on.
“I know how everyone else sees me.”
Venom seeps into his voice, if a bit unintentionally, but Marianne can hear the hurt underlying in it. “And it’s - sweet - that you are trying, but I do not really think -”
The longer he talks, the more she wants to just scream how this is exactly why she wants everyone else to see him the way she does. Why she wants those stupid fairies to realize that Bog King is not as scary as they all make him out to be - well he can be, but that is far from the only thing that he is.
Marianne places a long finger to his lips, a soft smile on her face. He takes the hint and closes his mouth, stopping himself to let her speak.
“I’m tired of the court talking about you the way that they do.” Marianne softly admits.
She never elaborates on just what they say, but Bog imagines that it’s nothing he has not heard before. Her voice turns more bitter, almost venomous and frustrated.
“I’m tired of Dad acting like there are better suitors out there. I don’t just want everyone to see as equals, you deserve it. You deserve for them to see you as the Bog King. The king I know you are.”
She flushes when she realizes just how gushy she sounds. She never meant to go on a tangent, but when she starts, it is hard for her to get herself to stop talking. All of the things that she has been pent up come flowing out like a busted dam.
Bog sighs softly, his expression softening as he flutters down to her. The sharp edges of his armor and skin cut at the delicate flower petal, but he knows this is going to be much longer conversation than he imagined. He appreciates her enthusiasm, but he gave up on that dream before she even thought of it. He knows that the divide between their kingdoms is large; while it is making its progress, there are still many hurdles for them to fly over. Every step forward feels like it is followed by two steps back.
“They’ll never see me as equals to fairies,  tough girl.” Bog speaks up; his expression more somber, solemn as if he already accepted his fate. As if he knew that he would never be enough for her.
Marianne, however, just grins viciously, her teeth gleaming like the devil he knows that she can be. Each time, that grin always reminds him exactly what he loves most about her - her strength, her rebellious side, her sense of justice, her wickedness. Her refusal to abide by their rules of her and to stand by her choices - even when that choice is him.
“I guess we’ll just have to give them no choice.”
_________________________________________________
Fairy balls used to not be the dread of her existence. Marianne remembers a time when she used to look forward to it. She used to love to dress up and to dance, even if her voice carried a bit louder than quiet conversation would allow or she missed a few steps during the dance or she stepped on someone’s foot. The more she looks back on it, the more she realizes that she never quite fit in during the balls even if she did at one point enjoy it.
So if she never fit in anyway, what was the point of trying to fit in now? She may as well do what she wants, have fun, and most importantly, get her dance with Bog. Her original plan was to talk to them, get them to agree to not only Bog attending, but to have her dance with him as well. But she is a princess. Soon to be queen and she will dance with whomever she wants.
If the elders refuse to see him as her equal, at the very least this (very public) dance will help her subjects see him as such. It’s admittedly a bit backhanded. But she knows that someone such as Bog dancing with their crown princess will make their courtship hard to ignore. Harder to try to talk her out of. Harder to slip under the rug or excuse. The more public and more aggressive she is about the fact that Bog is her partner, the less of a choice they have about ignoring him.
They can not outright deny him entry if he has an invitation, she reminded herself; the courts may not like it, especially her father, but they are all too proud to deny their manners as a host. Otherwise, she imagines Sunny would have been kicked out long ago despite Dawn constantly vouching for him.
“Should we be worried about how long they’re taking,” Sunny speaks up, anxiously, from beside her; unlike most of them, Dawn did not have to choose his outfit with the elf already being one of the most fashionable among them. She almost thinks it is a shame that Dawn has not seen him yet.
Marianne glances toward him, but otherwise appears not nearly as concerned. She continues to absently sip at the grape-based wine served, almost lazily, with the peace of mind that if she spilled any than at the very least, it would not show up on the dress. While not caring much about what the others think of her outfit - considering that she has already gotten more than a few stink eyes - she is looking forward to showing herself off to Bog. Dawn had worked hard on this particular dress, with Marianne’s own input, for weeks in preparation for this. The dark purple silk was carefully dyed with wine, intricately sewn in with matching petals. She felt the color was a good way to assert herself as royalty and, admittedly, it is also just her new favorite color. The overall plan is that the neighboring political figures will not make any mistake on who the crown princess is, which will make her dance with Bog an even bigger event.
But now that the ball is in full swing, an appearance from either Dawn or Bog would make them fashionably late; something that is usually more her style than her sister’s. As crown princess, she actually took her duties in getting the ball ready more seriously, which made her almost dangerously early. Her father was thrilled that she was showing more of an interest and she did not want to ruin his good mood by telling him she was only making sure of things this time around since Bog would be joining them.
“Dawn always takes longer to get ready for these things,” Marianne reminds him, “And with a new person to dress up….”
She trails off with a bit of a shrug. It is nice for her sister (her loyal, always by her side sister) to offer to take over Bog’s clothes for the ball; Dawn all but gave her no choice when she found out. While she imagines that Bog is not having the best time, she can not help but be curious as to what Dawn put him in. Out of the two of them, her sister has always had the best taste in fashion and understood the dynamics of being a seamstress must better than herself.
Not too much later after her words, Princess Dawn’s appearance is announced by one of the guards. Considering this is one of the larger balls the kingdom throws, a majority being fairies and political figures from neighboring fairy kingdoms, their father had insisted on the more traditional approach of having each guest carefully announced. Not the worst idea until someone - or two someone - are late.
Considering that there are most everyone is there, and whomever is not by now is considered by most to not be coming, Dawn’s announcement draws a bit of attention. Most of the fairies of their own kingdom pay her no mind, used to at least one princess being late, while their other guests at the very least, turn their head to glance her way. Most just continue their slow dances and hushed whispers - whispers that, with her late attendance, seem to get a smidge louder than normal among their visitors.
To their father’s credit, he does try to greet her, but Dawn wastes no time in going in for Sunny, grabbing his wrist, then dragging him out to the dance floor. Dawn barely even greets her own sister, a smile stretched out on her face wildly, and Marianne just returns the smile as she sips at the glass. She can see her father’s disappointment from here as some of the dancers glance at Dawn and Sunny with uncertainty.
But if the attendees thought Dawn was scandalous, Marianne can not help but grin wickedly when she thinks about the stir her and Bog will cause. She knows she will get an earful later, but she also knows that a statement like this can not be dismissed.
When the guard announces Bog’s arrival, instead of the hushed whispers growing, all sound seems to stop. While the musicians eyed each other uneasily, their music coming to an abrupt stop as an uncertainty washes over them all, the sound of Marianne’s shoes against the solid floor are the only thing echoing across the ballroom.
Marianne grins viciously, her eyes lighting up as Bog enters the party. Her sister did a dastardly good job. Forgoing too much that would cover his armor and rip due to his thorns, Bog instead wears a deep purple toga, made of a thicker fabric with layers. The fabric wraps from just beside his neck across to his hip, giving him the illusion of being covered for the sake of the event, but is open enough to reveal the intricacies of his armor and give him room for his large shoulder plates. It does not go unnoticed by Marianne that they, likely intentionally if she knows her sister, match.
“Care for a dance, Bog King,” Marianne bows deeply, one foot behind the other while her hand stretches out to him in an offering. She winks at him as she meets his gaze, relishing in the way it almost makes him flustered.
Bog matches her grin, shamelessly looking her over as he appreciates her choice of dress. The silky fabric is as dangerously scandalous as he is.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
They walk to the middle of the dance room, many of the guests parting to give them plenty of space, their heads are held high as Marianne evens her breathing. She does not even bother to glance at her father, instead only giving a small wave to Dawn as her younger sister openly encourages her.
A small nod to the musicians is enough for them to start up the music again. It takes a moment for the music to build, with Bog and Marianne taking that time in getting in the proper position. They stand facing each other, one hand behind their back, the other outstretched to barely touch their palms together.
As the music begins to pick up, Bog brings her closer just as they practiced before they start to go into a full swing. With each flare of music, Marianne moves - a kick of her feet, a twirl. All while maintaining her hold on Bog’s arm.
The longer they dance, the more she realizes that - for the most part - everyone has parted away from the middle floor to leave them both the space that they need. Either they realized just how dangerous her kicks are or they do not want to get close to the Goblin King. Like a weight lifted, she realizes she does not care.
All that she can focus on, as the background blurs around them through spins, turns and careful steps, is the fact that Bog is not missing a beat. They move together like one through a series of classic, yet dramatic, dances. The music echoes in her chest as it pounds in her ear, she counts each beat as thinks about where she has to step next.
“Purple suits you,” Marianne comments softly when Bog brings her in close. Her hand moves from position to scrape her nail along the underside of his armor at his neck. He almost growls, but instead grins deviously.
“Your hand is not in the right place, princess.”  
Marianne does not move her hand. She just grins, her hand briefly going to his face.
“I beg to differ, Bog King.”
She is lightly pushed away as they part, her going into a twirl before coming back into his arms. As their dance closes, Bog makes a point to dip her a bit deeper than customary with his face too close to hers to be mistaken for casual. His hand is tight at her waist, with no sign of letting go. As much as she tries to hide it, with them so close, he gets a good glimpse at the flush dusting her cheeks.
“You’re a pretty good dancer,” Marianne compliments as they part, Bog maintaining his hand on her waist.
Marianne does not miss the way that the others return to the dance floor as her and Bog leave it. Granted, some go back to the wine bar as soon as her sister stumbles her way to the floor with Sunny back in tow. But at the very least, she knows that their message got across - especially as she looks at her father, who looks two glasses away from passing out. Despite knowing that, and knowing the lecture she has in her future, she can not help but feel elated at just how much fun it was. Her heart racing, cheeks flushed, she hopes that the ball in the dark forest - an event only a few nights away from this one - will be just as fun.
Bog draws her in close, his teeth bared in a predatory dangerous smile.
“You did pretty well yourself, tough girl. Now, it’s my turn.”
__________________________________________________
Marianne is a little more worried over Griselda being in charge of her dress, however at Bog’s reassurances, she takes a deep breath and lets go of the reins. After all, who would know what is more appropriate for a goblin ball more than the previous queen? If she can put her trust and faith into Dawn, she can do the same for Griselda, especially after all that his mother has done for them (if in a bit embarrassing manner).
But, almost embarrassingly so, Marianne is left in the dark as to what to expect for the ball in the Dark Forest.
Her father tried to instill fear and caution in her over attending an event by herself, at night, in the Dark Forest, surrounded by goblins. Dawn tried to imagine something hauntingly beautiful, and made a few passing comments about Griselda enlisting her help with the dress to make sure it balanced goblin fashion and fairy well; though she complained more often than thought that she is unable to attend as the goblin ball, as she would be too busy attending the elves’ own soiree with Sunny.
Bog, however, would just give her teasing comments here and there about preparing herself to see just how different a real party is compared to the one that the fairies had. While that idea is exciting - thrilling - she is a bit nervous. Especially since she knows that, just like the one in the Fairy Kingdom, this event would also have other representatives from different sections of the Dark Forest and who knew what else. She knew that she could protect herself and that Bog would stand up for her presence there, but she still remembers just how scary it was when she first accidentally stepped into the Dark Forest and feels that same fear bubbling under her skin at the idea of being introduced to so many unknowns. She is sure that Bog felt the same anxiety, however, about attending the fairy ball.
And she also has to remind herself that this is what she wants. She wants to be kept on her toes. She wants the challenge. She wants to learn more about Bog and his world, just as he did the same for her. More importantly, this is exactly what she always dreamed of (with a few minor things changed here and there such as actually dating the Bog King).
Griselda helps put the finishing touches up on the dress. With Dawn gone to the elven ball, Griselda puts her all into making sure each detail is perfect a mere hour away from the event. The previous queen is already dressed - with jewelry adorning her horns, but lacking shoes - and Marianne can not help but wonder if she should expect the other goblins to be dressed in something similar - and if going without shoes is the norm.
“You look - beautiful,” Griselda gushes, brushing a tear away from her eye with her pinky claw, “Boggy is just going to love you - well, he already loves you dear, you know that, but when he sees you in this dress - I better be getting grandchildren out of this.”
Marianne flushes deeply, eyes darting around as she can only laugh a bit nervously at the sentiment, especially knowing that Griselda says it so sincerely. Griselda immediately, lightly, scolds her for fidgeting as she finishes sewing up one last spot to make it the perfect fit. Marianne catches glimpses of herself in the mirror - and more she looks at it, the more she falls in love with what Griselda and her sister have created.
“-Is it normal not to wear shoes,” Marianne asks, hesitantly as she eyes Griselda’s toes balancing her as she stands up on them to reach a specific spot. Marianne glances down to her own feet, wiggling her toes, unsure about how she feels about the possibility of dancing barefoot  and the more fairy part of her is a little worried about just how dirty her feet would get. She also already knows how Bog’s thorns feel when they prick her finger, she can’t imagine what would happen if he stepped on her toes while barefoot.
“Goblins do not need shoes, honey,” Griselda explains gently, “Our skin is tough and we’re made for running through stones and bark and twigs, not soft dirt and flowers.”
She gently pinches at Marianne’s skin as if to emphasize her point, “But do not worry about it dearie, I made a pair of shoes - with your sister’s input mind you - that will work perfect for tonight.”
_____________________________________________
“Is she here yet,” Thang attempts to whisper, his voice harshly cutting out.
“No.” Stuff rolls her eyes, crossing her arms, “If Queen Marianne was here, we’d see her.”
“ Oh.”
Bog sighs deeply, trying to fight the incoming migraine as the two smaller goblins debate about whether or not Marianne is at the ball yet. He leans on his staff, tapping his foot impatiently as he debates about searching the castle himself for his mother and Marianne. He hopes, at the very least, his mother did not put something ridiculous on Marianne; she would look beautiful no matter what she wore, but his mother’s atrocious ideas of fashion are (at times) a bit much to swallow, especially at formal events. But even he is starting to get impatient over his mother taking too long.
He notices his mother arriving first; it is hard to not notice her. Unlike the fairy ball, with formalities and announcements, Griselda comes in loudly and proudly - immediately calling out to the old politicians that she recognizes, waving to them enthusiastically. Bog sighs at the way some of the others street clear of her as she plows her way through the dancing crowd just to say hi to any given person.
But then he turns to see Marianne. Gorgeous, stunning, beautiful Marianne. Looking as if she belongs to be there as any of them do. The black dress she wears has thin, translucent sleeves that wrap around her arms, connected to the dark collar at her neck, her dark purple wings looking more like an elegant cape behind her as her sword glimmers at her hip. He glances down and is surprised to see that instead of her normal cloth and vines around her feet, she instead wears shoes that look suspiciously like his armor just dyed; they match the armored bracelets at her wrists.
She looks every bit like the future Queen of the Dark Forest should be.
Marianne’s eyes meet his - the dark shadow around her eyelids highlighting the gleam in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks. She holds her head high as she walks to him, with most of the goblins parting out of her way while others linger to look at her in curiosity.
She tries her best to focus solely on Bog, remembering to keep her shoulders back and walk with the confidence that she needs right now. The dark, low lights of the cavern inside of the hollowed tree are unexpected - lit mostly by fireflies and moonlight that beams in through the skylight. She glimpses the various types of goblins around her - batlike ones whose arms reach to the ground to support their weight, ones with ears larger than their bodies or some larger than she thought goblins could even be. The diversity among them is so vastly different than that among the fairies, from their sizes to features, but she feels an odd sense of welcoming that all of them are Bog’s people.  
The music is deeper than she anticipated - tight strings with an ominous undertone. As if it is background noise to an anticipated fight. She supposes that that is not entirely wrong, given that she remembers just how Bog taught her how to dance.
“Wow,” Thang whistles, the sound sharp and crass against the rugged music playing, “She looks pretty evil.”
Marianne raises a brow, nose scrunched at the compliment, She is but bites her cheek for now. She is used to the ‘compliments’ people give her - pretty, quirky, awkward. She is used to what Roland used to pass as compliments, but (especially knowing Thang) this does not feel backhanded. It does not even feel like an insult either. But if it is a compliment, she is not sure what exactly it is supposed to mean.
Bog immediately bows to her, causing Stuff and Thang to stumble, squawking in surprise as they do the same. From the corner of her eye, she can see the other goblins do the same. She feels a sense of honor and pride, as well as absolute adoration from Bog being as bold to do something that clearly meant a lot to his people.
“I believe it’s time to dance, tough girl,” Bog takes her hand as he stands up straight, “Do you remember what we practiced?”
Marianne bares her teeth in a wild grin. She remembers exactly how to do this. For as often as she practiced dancing with him for the fairy ball, they practiced twice as much for this. She knows that if something goes wrong someone could get hurt - and she can not imagine what would happen if that person was accidentally Bog.
But she has faith in herself - and in him. She thinks that she has a good enough handle on this to do it well.
“How could I not?”
Bog guides her to the floor with an elegance. At his presence, the goblins make a very clear circle around them to give them plenty of space. She would be more worried about hurting someone if they did not.
Bog gives a nod as they part, gaining a few feet between them. Unlike the close, slower and more calculated movements of the dance they performed at the fairy event, this one starts at a distance as they draw their weapons. They close in with his staff against her sword, circling each other as they bring their weapons down against each other.
“By the way,” Marianne asks softly, eyes still on him- each movement she makes feels natural to her, with her sword acting more like a third limb than a weapon. “Was that earlier?”
“Which part,” Bog almost laughs, but his voice comes off hesitant, “What did my mother do?”
“No - your mother was fine,” Marianne assures him as their weapons hit each other once again, twirling around like this - she can not help feel the parallel to their first fight. “I meant Thang.”
“Thang?”
They stumble - for a brief moment, their dance stutters in an awkward pause as their weapons slip out of their hands and into the air. Their staff and sword glide pass each other in a fumble. They move fast, and as one, to cover the mistake - grabbing each other’s weapon in an elegant switch that causes the crowd to gasp, not noticing it as a mistake and instead as (what Dawn would call) a power move, as they continue on.
“He called me evil.” Marianne states carefully, unsure if it would come off insulting and this time, she is careful to hold onto Bog’s staff. The weight of it is unfamiliar, if oddly comforting, but considering she practiced with only her weapon, her words come out a bit slower as she concentrates more on her movements. “Is that - I mean, is that a good thing or -?”
This time Bog does laugh - bellowing and deep, it echoes through the room as he grins madly at her. Their dance picks up the pace as their conversation blurs among the clash of her sword against his staff.
“Evil is a compliment in these parts, tough girl,” Bog explains, a wicked grin on his face, “Evil is not malicious - but of strength, mischief - rebellion.”
Marianne lets out a quiet oh. She supposes that makes sense, if she squints. To fairies, evil means darkness, malicious intent. But hearing his version of it, she wonders just how much their version of ‘evil’ is just based in prejudice against the Dark Forest.
They come together closer as their dance starts to slow, neither out of breath as everyone watches them carefully. Marianne can hear Griselda already clapping, but for once, Bog does not pay much mind to his mother’s embarrassing attention.
“And there is nothing - ” Bog states, his voice low and soft. Their weapons are down, still against each other as Bog leans into her, close to almost whispering into her ear, “- nothing more rebellious than a fairy princess and a goblin king.”
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SO’s US Book Tour: Alaska
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The Snow Child
By Eowyn Ivey
Next stop is Alaska - one of the six states I have yet to visit.  One of the things I wanted to accomplish in doing this US Tour Challenge was to pick books that really give you a sense for the state I’m reading about.  And Snow Child really gives you a sense of the open mysterious, tinged with sad wilderness that is Alaska.  Written by an Alaskan native - the book is at its best when it’s describing its location.  Ivey has a real knack for making you feel as if you are there - out in the expansive wilderness that is Alaska, and that feeling of being fully pulled into the atmosphere of the story is something that I did enjoy out of the story.  
See - the thing I’m learning, especially dipping my toes out of works and genres that I naturally gravitate to, is that I understand when a book is objectively good even if it isn’t something I necessarily enjoy.  This book, and it’s magical realistic story and setting, is one of those books.  I can’t say that I liked this book.  But I can say that it is very well written and if you are into magical realism, and a beautiful, descriptive work that marries nicely a real and gritty world with elements of fantasy - then you probably will like this one.  
The story revolves around a middle-aged couple (the book calls them older, but they’re only in their early-50s, and to me that is not yet old) who moves to Alaska in the 1920s for the adventure and challenge of it all.  Only they’re bogged down by the reality of their new life, and the grief of having lost a child sometime in the past.  I did like Jack and Mabel as characters.  The novel takes its time breathing life into them as characters.  They are as real and fleshed out as the wilderness imagery Ivey painstakingly creates.  And their character arcs - pulling themselves out of the grief they hold, learning to come back to one another, and learning how to really accept living in this new world is really where the novel excels.  While I’m not overly fond of overly descriptive writing (and I’m still not after reading this), I do think Ivey paints us a beautiful and convincing story for these two.  
The magical realism aspect of the novel comes in its relation to an old Russian fairy tale - where an older couple makes a young girl out of snow and she comes to life.  After one snowy evening, Jack and Mabel do make that snow child - and they find a young girl running around the woods, and eventually invite her indoors.  And here’s where the novel and I start to really begin to part ways.  The young girl is named Faina - and it’s intentionally ambiguous whether or not she’s real or imaginary.  In some ways she’s very much a child who grew up in the wilderness -- nods to her past life and past family are found.  In other ways she’s very much a fantasy -- the fact that no one else ever sees her and the fact that she goes away in the summer to chase the cold.  
While I don’t mind the ambiguity of her as a character -- my problem comes from the fact that the novel (to me) seems more interesting when she’s not around.  I understand that she’s there to help Jack and Mabel reconnect, and make peace with their grief.  And I understand she represents the wild and burly wilderness of Alaska.  And that is fine.  But the more real she gets, especially in the last third of the novel, she seems less like a fairy tale wonder and more like a manic pixie dream child.  
There aren’t that many other characters in the book, but I do think the ones that are there work well for the story being told.  Jack and Mabel have a neighboring couple whom they befriend - the wife, Esther, being possibly my favorite character in the book.  She’s easily the most cheery, though bold and daring, especially for a woman in the 1920s, and works well being a contrast to Mabel - who is more reserved and slightly more cynical.  The neighbors also have a son named Garrett, who also becomes important to the second half of the story.  He’s fine and works for what the story needs him to do.  
I also found the book sluggish to get through.  Don’t get me wrong - I wouldn’t call it padded.  Nor do I think it's a particularly difficult book to read technically.   I think Ivey is relying on her abilities of description to fully color the world around her and does so to great effect.  I just struggle with these kinds of books - because my taste veers to something more fast paced in its plotting.  That said - I do wonder if a good hundred pages could have been cut out of this book to make it move on just a little faster.  
I also took issue with the last hundred pages or so of the book.  It became clear that Ivey was seeking out a certain type of bittersweet ending, and while most of the book took its time with the world building and character growing - the last portion felt, actually, as though it was a little bit in a rush to just get to a specific ending.  I also wasn’t particularly thrilled with the ending - partly because I feel that Faina still seems ill-defined compared to all the rest of the characters, and partly because trying to merge the reality and fantasy isn’t such an easy feat - but I respect the author’s choice to get the novel to its ultimate ending point.  
Ultimately, would I recommend this book? It depends on if you’re the type of person who enjoys deep character studies and lush descriptions - then I think you'll really enjoy it.  If you’re someone (more like me) who wants a little more plot to their novels then maybe not.  I think there are elements of the novel that are definitely worth talking about (and at times - I did feel like I was reading a book waiting to be discussed in a sophomore college literature course), but I can’t say that I had a lot of fun reading it. 
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rosesgonerogue · 4 years ago
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I didn’t so much fall in love - It kicked me in the face Chapter Four
No matter how hard she tried, Marinette couldn’t deny the fact that she found Timothy Drake incredibly attractive. But she had to push it down for the sake of professionalism. In all actuality, all of the Wayne brothers were attractive, but she and Tim just… clicked. She wanted to stay here and talk to him, pick his mind about his likes and dislikes. It really did not help that Leo was insistent that Tim got Ladybug red lining. 
Because that was huge. Leo knew Ladybug’s identity, and he was staunchly protective of the heroine because of that. He knew something, or intuited something about Tim that Marinette hadn’t caught onto yet. Leo’s insistence was more than curious, and it consumed enough of Marinette’s thoughts that she managed to avoid pondering the fact that the majority of the family had at least some trace of the Lazarus Pits on them. 
The Lazarus Pits were something that Marinette had only learned about from the book, but the sensation was unmistakable. They were dark, twisted Miraculous magic, a result of a wish born from the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses. It was a magic that was able to heal someone at the expense of their sanity, or sometimes their humanity, at least so the kwamis had reported. But the magic was faded - it had been at least a few years since any of them had interacted with the pools. It had taken her some time to confirm the feeling, but now Marinette was sure of it. If the Wayne family was indeed the “Bat Family,” as Gotham had dubbed the vigilantes, then they were involved in some things beyond even the Justice League. 
If that was the case, then Tim should have been the last person she focused on. He was remarkably free of the vile magic. Even knowing that, as well as Marinette’s responsibilities as the Guardian of the Miraculous, she couldn’t help but gravitate towards Tim.
She really wanted nothing more than to talk to the man for hours, but Marinette couldn’t. It felt like she was with her friends and it was late enough that she knew logically that she needed to leave, but it also felt like she couldn’t help but leave a part of herself behind when she did. But Marinette was an adult, with a job and a child to take care of. Purposely tearing her eyes away from him , she looked at the clock. “Well, it’s getting late, Tim. I’m sure you have important business to attend to, and I have a number of suits to make. It was lovely meeting you, and thank you once again for being so attentive to Leo.” 
“It was my pleasure, Marinette.” 
Slipping away, Marinette couldn’t escape the thoughts and emotions pounding in her mind. The Wayne family was truly an eclectic group. 
Alfred waited for her at the doorway, his posture perfect. “On behalf of the Wayne family, I thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” 
Maybe it was just the residual emotions from the Waynes - because there were many - but now that she wasn’t distracted, something felt… different about the butler. Miraculous. 
“And thank you for all of your assistance, Monsieur. I’m afraid I missed your last name.” 
“Pennyworth, Madame. Sir Alfred Pennyworth.” 
“Well, Sir Pennyworth, I hope to see you again soon,” Marinette said warmly, squeezing Leo’s hand. “Have a wonderful day.” 
“You as well,” he said, inclining his head. 
A car was waiting outside for them, and as Marinette was buckling Leo in, he said, “Monsieur Pennyworth needs something blue like Duusu.”
His eyes were grave - Marinette often thought that she wasn’t capable of possibly fathoming half of the things that went through his mind. Apparently being born to the guardian and wielder of the Miraculous had some side-effects - like his scary accurate intuition. 
“Don’t worry,” she said, ruffling his hair. “I’ll make something special for Mr. Pennyworth. But if he’s blue like Duusu, why is Monsieur Drake Ladybug red?” 
“He matches you,” Leo said simply before becoming fixated on something outside of the car. 
Well. Marinette got to decipher what that was supposed to mean alone, it seemed. 
**********
As soon as the designer was gone, Damian huffed, crossing his arms. “She at least seems marginally capable.” 
“She’s more than marginally capable, Little D,” Dick said, shaking his youngest brother. “She’s MDC.” 
“Are we going to discuss the fact that she’s the tourist from patrol the other night?” Jason asked, lounging across an armchair.
“The one you had to get out of a tree? Why would she-”
“No, the one that took down Scarecrow single-handedly and then managed to kick the replacement in the face,” Jason said, snickering. 
“Are you kidding me?” Dick asked, eyes alight with excitement. “She’s that one?” 
“It was probably just adrenaline,” Damian muttered. “You said she had been looking for her child, didn’t you?” 
“Speaking of the kid, he sees way too much,” Jason butted in. “It’s like he can look into your soul. And you can’t adopt either of them, Bruce, no matter how much they look like Waynes.” 
“There are other options,” Bruce said dismissively. “But if we want to keep our identities a secret, we need to be especially cautious. Tim, I want you to do a background check now that we have a full name. Nothing too deep, she hasn’t given us any real reason to be suspicious yet.” 
“Nonsense,” Damian said with a curled lip. “We should have done a full investigation before she even set foot in Gotham.” 
“Damian, you will show her respect,” Bruce warned. 
“Hey B, do you know anything about a Parisian hero named Ladybug?” Tim asked. “Leo was talking about her like she was a pretty big deal.” 
“The name is familiar. She and a handful of other heroes popped up in Paris a little less than ten years ago. There isn’t much information on them, but they seem harmless enough, leading recycling efforts and such. They’re likely more public mascots than actual heroes.” 
“That would be kind of nice, wouldn’t it?” Dick wondered idly. “What would it be like, worrying about recycling and friendship more than actual crime?” 
“Either the Parisian cops are damn good at their job, or the city is a disaster,” Jason speculated. “The more I think about it, Paris sounds like a great vacation spot. You should take us there on our next family trip, Bruce.” 
“We don’t do family trips,” Damian sneered. 
“You should take us on family trips, Bruce.” 
“Think of all of the family bonding we could do!” Dick exclaimed with stars in his eyes. While they all argued about whether or not a family trip was feasible, or even worthwhile, Tim slipped away to his room. 
His mind was bogged down with visions of blue eyes and a musical laugh. The only word he could think of to describe how he felt was “bewitched,” but Tim felt like that was far from just to the source of the problem. 
It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door and none other but Dick Grayson pushed his way into the room. “Everything okay, Tim?” he asked, eyes clearly concerned. 
“I’m fine, I just… This is completely embarrassing. I was just… distracted.” 
Dick scrutinized him for a moment before his face cleared. “Oh. Oh.” 
“Don’t make it sound like that,” Tim said, throwing a pillow. “I just… I don’t think I’ve spoken that easily to a woman ever. Marinette… She was amazing.” 
“I did notice that you two were getting along. It’s okay if you like her, Timmie. In case you haven’t gotten the memo, the whole vigilante life doesn’t immediately exclude you from having a love life.” 
“I know, I’ve seen it, but - Ugh, it’s all so confusing. I think I could really, really like her, but she’s too bright, too precious. Gotham would drain the life out of her, just like it does to everything else.” 
Dick thought for a moment before ruffling his brother’s hair. “First of all, I think you’re not giving Marinette enough credit. She’s already been through an attack, and it was with Scarecrow, no less. Somehow she managed to take him down, and she almost took you out too. Gotham’s got nothing on that girl.” 
“I know, it’s just hard to reconcile the Marinette I just met with the one that kicked me in the face,” Tim said, rubbing his temples. “What’s second?” 
“Hmm?” 
“You said ‘first of all.’ That means that you’ve got a second part.” 
Moving to Tim’s doorway, Dick looked back with half a smile. “Second of all, no one ever said you had to stay in Gotham.” 
Taglist: 
@ii-fox-demon @queen-in-a-flower-crown @novaloptr @saphiraazure2708 @iamabrownfox @smolplantmum @redhoodedtoad @loysydark @slytheringinger300 @finallyaniguana @brokenwordsarehard2 @abrx2002 @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @moonlightstar64  @marinettepotterandplagg @black-streak @purplesundaze @maribat-is-lifeblood @the-fusionist @river9noble @chocolatecatstheron @darkthunder1589 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @dast218 @k-poplunardreams @meanids @changelinggarden @ladybug-182 @pawsitivelymiraculous
Note: 
This chapter is short on Leo, which is as much as shame to me as it is to all of you, I’m sure. I fully intend on making up for that later. Let me know what you all think. I’m still fairly new to writing romance, so I could use all the input I can get! 
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nostalgicatsea · 3 years ago
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Fic Writer Interview Meme
Thank you for tagging me, Dora!
Name: sea/nostalgicatsea
Fandoms: Marvel. I’m into some other stuff as well, but I don’t know if I can say I’m in the fandom. 
Two-shot:
I don’t have any unless you count a two-part series and companion fics as two-shots. I’m going to count them so I don’t leave this section blank:
All These Half-Tones of the Soul (G, MCU, 22,888 words)
In lieu of the “summary” for the series, which is just a book quote, here are the summaries for the two fics:
Multitude of One (G, MCU, 4,277 words)
Summary: "So was I," his soulmate would tell him one day, and what it would mean was that they loved him.
Leaving Promises Against Your Skin (G, MCU, 18,611 words)
Summary: “Someday, someone will choose you, Tony,” his mother had said, her hands back to cupping his. “And no one, not your father, not anyone, can ever take that from you.”
Notes: I wish I could change the name of the series because it doesn’t fit completely, but oh well! This series was grueling to write, but it was by far the most rewarding because I didn’t think I could do it. Even if there are things I wish I could fix (I think that way about almost every fic I write), I’m proud of what I accomplished. I wrote the story I wanted to write and did something I never thought I could. I felt like I was running a marathon and at the end, that level of euphoria was probably the closest I’ll get to a runner’s high. I want to feel that again. 
IW companion fics:
The Great Silence of Loss (G, MCU, 1,075 words)
Summary: There was no reason to keep the phone, not when Tony didn't have his, not when Tony was gone and all keeping it would do was hurt him, but Steve held onto it anyway.
Signals Between Two Satellites (G, MCU, 2,290 words)
Summary: He hadn't allowed himself to dream of this, of Tony returning to him. Not when he had lost so much. Not when dreaming of the impossible would destroy him. But Tony was here, and for the first time since Thanos had wiped out half of the universe, Steve felt hope. Notes: After watching IW, I thought I’d have the same dry spell as I did after AoU. I didn’t think I had anything to write about, but it ended up being my most prolific era! I don’t know why or I do, but I don’t have the space to talk about it here and I’m not sure I can express myself accurately. There’s something about unspeakable loss sweeping you out to sea, making everything else before both insignificant and magnified. Every regret, every love. When you’re so lucky so as to hold onto or regain something you lost, there’s so much power in that love and hope even when you’re not sure things will ever be okay again.
I have two other fics that are companion pieces to each other but not officially so I’ll leave them off! In case you’re wondering, they’re “Thunder Hurried Slow” and “Leaving You Forward.”
Most popular:
Multitude of One (G, MCU, 4,277 words)
Summary: "So was I," his soulmate would tell him one day, and what it would mean was that they loved him.
Notes: The clear winner when it comes to hits, kudos, and comments, but when it comes to bookmarks, the sequel, LPAYS, surpasses MoO in numbers. I love soulmate fics, but I wasn’t sure what to write (other than that one soulmate fic that I’ve been trying to write since 2014 which hasn’t happened yet). I read some angsty CW soulmate fics, and then this idea struck me because I loved them, but I wanted to see something different.
I wanted to explore the idea of idealization and romanticization of a soul mark, especially when your assumptions of its meaning turn out to be completely incorrect, and the significance of soulmates. Is your soulmate important because you love them, or do you love them because they’re your soulmate? What happens if you can’t see who they are, even if they’re in front of you the whole time, and fail them because you’re so focused on the idea of them? I also wanted to try and see if I could bring the iconic 616 “It wasn’t worth it” line to the MCU in a way that made it organic to the universe here. Again, shoutout to the fics I read before this idea burst into my head, specifically “Zugzwang” by the great Woad.
Actual worst part of writing:
Most of the time, I know how the story begins and ends, but I don’t know how to get from A to C. Sometimes I have fragments in between, but I don’t know how to connect them! I get bogged down in plot holes or issues I don’t know how to fix and I get stuck for a long time. 
How you choose your titles:
Everyone moans about coming up with titles—and understandably so, as it’s the worst when you can’t come up with one—but oddly enough, titles come really easily to me. They just...float to the surface of my mind. In some cases, they’re there before I start writing. Other times, when I start and I’m at the beginning of the story. It’s almost like I feel the story/feel the titles as though I’m searching for the story’s true name which sounds SO obnoxiously pretentious lolsdkfjdas, but that’s the only way I can explain it. It’s almost a sensory experience for me. They have to be right (there’s this moment where it feels right, whether it’s this quiet recognition or a “YES! That’s it” eureka moment) and there has to be a meaning behind them that explains what the story is about in some way. Otherwise, I get stuck. There are a few titles that I’m not particularly fond of because nothing really came to me, but I had to go with what I came up with due to time constraints. They still rub me the wrong way when I look at them.
Do you outline:
I usually know the start and end of a story before I write, and most of my stories are short enough so that means I don’t have to outline. Longer stories, though...I probably need to outline. That’s where I struggle and why I haven’t written anything really over 6k other than LPAYS (I was a mess writing it, but I can go into that separately if anyone’s interested). :’) I’d say that I half plot and half fly by the seat of my pants; I leave enough room on a bare-bones outline in my head to improvise. 
Ideas you probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice:
MY ENTIRE LIST OF WIPS LMAO ESPECIALLY THE ONES THAT HAVE TO BE LONG FICS. :’))))))))
Callouts @ me:
STOP TWISTING YOURSELF INTO KNOTS TRYING TO FIGURE EVERYTHING OUT. You only need to know the big stuff, but you always think you need to know how every tiny thing works before you start. Shut up and start writing! You spend most of your time saying you’ll write and then getting distracted by going online, saying you want to write, or complaining about how writing is hard. Just write something! Learn discipline! ALSO, YOU ARE SO OBSESSED WITH NATURE, EYES, SMILES, ETC. PLEASE LEARN TO USE OTHER METAPHORS AND PRACTICE HOW TO EXPRESS MOVEMENT, EMOTION, AND PRESENCE THROUGH OTHER WAYS TOO.
Wait, I’m not sure I’m supposed to be yelling at myself here. I can do fun callouts! @ self, you’re so weak for anything related to home and the concept of together....istg, that’s all you write about.
Best writing traits:
I’m good at atmosphere and rhythm although the latter has become less of a thing over the years as I started writing longer stuff. But still! 
Tangential opinion:
This can be difficult to believe and it can take time (I certainly didn’t start out like this in my first fandom pre-Marvel), but honestly, write for yourself and your friends and/or write for yourself without expectations on how you’ll be received. I would say write for yourself first and foremost, but you’re in fandom because you want to be part of a community so I’m not going to say to write for yourself only unless you want to. When you find a close group of a few friends, you’ll realize that the most important thing is you guys having fun and everything else is a nice surprise—or if you’re more of a lurker, then it’s nice just seeing a few people respond to you especially if you start to see it’s the same few people the more you write. A lot of the times, they become the people you befriend too.
Tagging: @kiyaar, @ishipallthings, @citsiurtlanu, @welcomingdisaster, @no-gorms, and anyone else who wants to do this!
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demonslayerimagines · 4 years ago
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Here’s another story I wrote for @mevrouwrozestudios for our 2nd story/art trade! The prompt was some rescue fluff between her OC Nonaka and Inosuke! I hope you enjoy!
~ Mod Nezuko 🌸
Antidote of the Heart
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The rumors of a mysterious, small village in swampland were being told around the country. It was humid, but cloudy as if it was about to rain. Nonaka walked carefully on the path toward this village. There were rumors of a plague spreading to every civilian, with some of them going missing. The signs of it were paleness, weakness, and a bite mark somewhere on the body. Everytime someone seemed to be cured, they'd be back in their sick state the next morning. Shinobu suspected a demon, so this is how Nonaka found herself stepping cautiously through the muddy trail. She was just to figure out if it was a demon or just a plague and report back by midnight! Nonaka felt a bit out of her element, the farthest she's been from the Butterfly Mansion in a while. Shinobu had the utmost confidence in her, so Nonaka was ready to do a great job. Even if she had to be away from her Inosuke.
The village was in sight, small huts and houses were all near the lakeside. Nonaka stepped into it and noticed the lack of people, all the doors and windows were shut. It felt like a ghost town, empty with only the breeze bringing a sort of life to the area. Nonaka felt a chill crawling up her back as she slowly walked around, looking for someone to question. Nonaka finally saw an older-looking man standing near the far exit of town. There were strange tracks leading out into the swampy forest.
Nonaka approached the man and noticed his troubled expression. “Now, who might you be, young lady?” the man spoke with a strict tone. Nonaka gulped and showed her wooden box, full of first aid supplies. “Sir, I was sent by the closest village to see what was going on out here. I’m a doctor’s assistant and heard there was a plague spreading” The man huffed, but looked melancholy, “A plague is the least of our worries...If you’re smart, you’ll go back to once you came and forget that this place exists” Nonaka wanted to ask more, but the old man gave her the cold shoulder and walked towards the closest hut.
Nonaka knew something was amiss, but wasn’t quite sure what the danger was yet. Noticing the tracks again, Nonaka looked at them closely. The tracks were quite large, furrows made in the ground in a wavy pattern. She knew whatever made these had to be the problem and began to follow the strange trail into the dark bog…
~~~~~
It was midnight, the butterfly mansion glowed with the light of candles in the dark of the night. Shinobu stood outside, waiting for an answer from Nonaka. Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke were all relaxing in the baths after their last day of physical therapy. They had come back from a big mission in the city and had spent a few days there to heal up. Tanjiro seemed to be the only one who really focused on their training though. Zenitsu was fawning over Eiko, a new ally who had helped them in the city and who had protected Zenitsu in his time of need. Inosuke on the other hand was constantly trying to impress Nonaka, the two had begun constantly flirting and talking with each other.
They had officially begun to court after their herb adventure a few weeks ago. Inosuke was very proud to be the first of the group to actually get a girl! Zentisu was incredibly jealous about it. Inosuke and Nonaka were inseparable before training and after training. Inosuke gave her lots of hugs and loved to lift her up when she least expected it. That's why when she mentioned her next mission, Inosuke felt a pang in his chest. He wanted Nonaka to stay with him in the mansion! Who knows what could happen to her alone out there! Tanjiro mentioned that the feeling was called worry, surprised that Inosuke could feel that with the way he goes head first into battle. There was nothing to be done though as Nonaka gave him a kiss goodbye a day ago.
The three boys stepped out of the bathes in their casual kimonos. They walked out to see Shinobu waiting for them with a white kasugai crow, Inosuke immediately knew it belonged to Nonaka. Shinobu had a serious look on her face as she spoke, “Nonaka has gone missing and was unable to report back to me. I want you three to leave at once to find her-” Inosuke immediately ran past her in a panicked state, going to get his blades and clothes. Tanjiro nodded at Shinobu and took Nonaka’s crow. Zenitsu’s eyes widened and his hands shook slightly, “C-Can’t I stay o-or can Eiko-chan come with us?!” Shinobu smiled, but shook her head. “Eiko and I must meet Mitsuri for important matters, but I’m sure the three of you will do fine! If not, you can just come back for some more physical treatment” Zenitsu whined as he dragged himself to get his things.
Inosuke wrecked the room to find his things. He slipped on his boar mask in a rage. Whatever has his Nonaka will never see the blessed light in the morning. Tanjiro and Zenitsu quickly gathered their things, but Inosuke barely noticed him as he stomped out of the room.
Inosuke waited outside on the cobblestone road, Tanjiro thanked the butterfly girls for their help while Zenitsu was holding Eiko’s hands and begging her to marry him quickly! “COME ON YOU CHICKENS! WE BETTER GET THERE BEFORE THE SUN RISES OR I’LL BRING THE BOTH OF YOU DOWN!” Inosuke yelled with passion, meaning every word. Zenitsu yelped and hid behind Eiko, “SAVE ME!” Tanjiro only nodded, understanding Inosuke’s feelings of concern for his loved one. Tanjiro grabbed Zenitsu by the haori and started dragging him down the path. Inosuke huffed, hiding his fear under layers of anger, ‘She better be ok…’
~~~~~
As the new moon hit the horizon, the three demon slayers ended up in the same path as Nonaka. The village close, Tanjiro could smell blood and a slight poisonous scent in the wind. It led them to the back of the small village where the same exit stood. Inosuke noticed the smaller footprints in the mud. It had to be her...Why did she go off on her own?! Inosuke felt himself tear up in his mask, not wanting to think of the worst. His legs took over, running ahead without any thought for himself. Tanjiro’s voice had called to him, but the sheer fear made Inosuke unable to hear much else except his beating heart. She had to be alive...Inosuke couldn’t take being alone again...
He ran up the steep path and saw a bigger house with the sliding door busted open. Inosuke could hear his partners running up behind him, but he ran inside alone. Needing to find out the truth for himself first. Once Inosuke was inside, he noticed the smell of blood was heavy in the air. Around were the bodies of the missing villagers, eaten by a demon. Inosuke almost missed the pink see through material that was lying by his feet. Inosuke kneeled down and felt it in his hands, eyes widening. Nonaka’s haori, the rose pattern slightly stained with drops of blood. Inosuke felt his body move on his own, screaming his inner pain to the heavens. Gripping the haori to his chest, his screams were wild and filled with anger. The mere thought of his love being gone was too much to bear…
Inosuke felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She’s not dead, I smell a sweet scent in the air. It has to be her, I distinctly remember her breathing style from training” Tanjiro spoke softly, breaking into Inosuke’s rough exterior. Inosuke understood, tying his love’s haori around his waist. A new determination surrounding him to find her and kill the motherfucker that hurt her!
~~~~~
Tanjiro was in the lead, following the scent. Inosuke close behind, gripping the haori tightly. Zenitsu took up the rear, every little thing making him jump. Zenitsu screamed in fright as a snake slithered past his feet. “This place is full of snakes and other small reptiles...What a strange home” Tanjiro spoke up, quietly. Inosuke shrugged, used to the wildlife and not afraid of a puny snake.
The three happened upon a large sliding door, Tanjiro put a finger to his lips and slowly opened the door. There in the large room was a demon. A male with long blackish green hair in a slick ponytail that went down to the middle of his back. His eyes were orange with thin black slits. His teeth were long and sharp, two fangs jutting out from his mouth. He was muscular as well, but the main thing was that his lower half was a long dark green snake tail. A half man, half snake demon. Inosuke was only interested in the figure wrapped in the tail though. It was Nonaka! She looked pale, her beautiful brown eyes looking dull, and a large snake bite was in her neck.
Inosuke took out his sword in a fit of rage as it built back up in his core, “OI! PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE!” The snake turned and grinned mischievously, “Ho ho ho, so more demon slayers enter my nest! Did you miss your little doctor? It seems she's also caught my ‘plague’” Tanjiro’s eyes widened, “The poisonous scent...He’s been injecting venom into the villagers and Nonaka!” The demon began to laugh, crazily, pissing Inosuke off even more. “Your little friend has had my biggest dose yet! That's what she gets for entering my domain!” the demon said between laughter. Nonaka looked in pain, barely able to look at Inosuke. Inosuke had enough, rushing quickly to stab the thing in the head. The snake dodged in the last minute at lightning speeds, as fast as a predator in the wild.
Tanjiro unsheathed his sword, leaving Nezuko’s box with Zenitsu to protect. Tanjiro took the side Inosuke wasn’t on and went for the tail to stop the demon’s wild movements and to free Nonaka. The snake smiled wide as Tanjiro’s sword hit the snake scales and slid off. No damage had come to the tail. Tanjiro’s eyes widened as the tail swung back and hit him hard against the wall, trying to crush him. Inosuke growled loudly, air coming from the nostrils of his boar mask, jumping up and bringing his serrated swords down on the snake. The demon screamed as Inosuke’s blade sliced between the scales, tearing them off and cutting the tail in half. The other half of the tail wiggled wildly in an unsettling way, releasing Tanjiro. Inosuke pushed Tanjiro away, “BACK OFF! THIS IS MINE!” The demon slid to the side and moved back to pounce at Inosuke, going for a bit to the chest. Inosuke held up his blade and the snake bit onto it, cutting his mouth as the two fought for dominance in the fight.
The two fought like a wild boar and snake in the wild, pushing against each other for the upper hand to kill their prey. Inosuke almost lost his footing as he was straining to keep the fangs away from his skin. He looked to Nonaka who had been released when the demon went for him. She sat there weakly holding herself up, but Inosuke read her lips as she tried to speak, ‘I-Inosuke...You’re so s-strong...I know you’ll s-save me...I love you!” Her silent words were enough for Inosuke to find himself, refocusing and twisting around. His flexible body twisting around with ease and slicing the demon’s head in half from the mouth.
In that moment, the demon remembered being an outcast, loving his pet snakes. The villagers were afraid of him so they broke into his home and killed his dear pets. The demon wanted revenge on the town and to make them suffer forever. Turning into a demon gave him that ability, but he really just wanted to live in peace with his snakes…
~~~~~
Nonaka began to awaken in a makeshift cot. She felt the humid heat and knew she was still in the swamp. The last thing she remembered was Inosuke fighting for his life and hers. His bravery and quick thinking as he used his strengths to win. Then Shinobu showed up and...the rest was very fuzzy. Nonaka opened her eyes fully, she was in a small hut with a few others who looked sick from the venom. Shinobu had a vile of purple venom with a few other medicines and was mixing things together. Shinobu had figured out how to reverse the effects of the venom by making an antidote with it. Tanjiro and Zenitsu were helping and giving medicine to sick villagers, but where was Inosuke?
Nonaka felt someone nuzzle up to her. Inosuke was snoring softly with his mask off while cuddling next to her on the floor. Nonaka blushed hard and sat up, quickly. Inosuke opened his eyes a bit and smiled at her. Before Nonaka could say a word, Inosuke sat up and met his lips with hers. His arms went around her and when he pulled away, she noticed her haori was on her shoulders. “I-Inosuke! I just woke up!” Nonaka exclaimed, her whole face turning as red as a strawberry. Inosuke chuckled, “Yeah! And I saved you! It was all me Nonaka!” Inosuke said as he flexed a bit, moving closer to her. Inosuke smiled wide as he held her against him. Nonaka heard his happiness, but felt him shaking a little. She knew that this all must’ve been hard for him. Nonaka returned the hug, feeling Inosuke’s worry wash away and being replaced with love as he hugged tighter.
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commander-hanji-zoe · 3 years ago
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So can i have a mike zacharias X SO head cannon or scenario where she has a dark very bloody past, maybe from the underground and when her past is found out she hides from mike thinking he'll break up with her for it.
Hey! Thank you so much for your request, you absolutely can <3 I hope you enjoy this, I didn’t go into the details of the dark past as I didn’t want to get bogged down in that and rather concentrate on their relationship & the resolution.
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There. You’d said it. 
You hadn’t planned on telling Mike the truth about your youth or the things that happened to you when you lived underground. It seemed like another life, which in many ways it was and therefore you barely felt like you needed to mention it. But the closer to Mike you became the more he’d talk about his youth and thus the more you felt you had to say something in return.
If it had been anyone else you would have lied, lying came easily when there was no trust to lose.
Truthfully you knew one day the truth would come out and that if you planned on living the rest of your lives together you’d have to be honest with him. It just wasn’t that easy to explain to someone who had very little interactions with the slums, but then that was where Levi was from. For all his cleanliness, for his attitude and how he could come to be, his past was also still a part of him. It was the very thing that made him who he was. 
Thinking of Levi often made you feel guilty, the fact that Erwin, Mike, Hanji…they all knew his past and where he was from. You felt like an imposter in your uniform.
Now as the words spilt from your mouth without you even thinking of them you’d felt your world and all the control you had slip from underneath you. The steady footing that had carried you for years was gone in an instant and replaced with Mike staring at you as you looked back over your shoulder, a wide range of expressions flashing across his face.
You’d been lying in bed together just chatting about your days enjoying the post sex bliss, held in his strong arms and feeling your heart swell. As you sat up to put your shirt back on you heard something that triggered a memory. 
You couldn’t have planned for it to happen the way it did, once you’d started to tell him about your childhood you couldn’t stop. You felt the bed dip behind you, the weight of Mike as he shuffled closer to you, his knees pressing into your buttocks, his head bowing and pressing against your shoulders. His thick arms wrapped around your torso and holding you close, you heard him inhale deeply through his nose as if smelling you, his comfort you knew.
When you finished and felt hot tears splash onto your thighs you stood up, pushing Mike back away from you. Getting dressed as quickly as you could you waited for Mike to say something but there was endless silence aside from footsteps outside and bird song. It was like any other perfect afternoon only the illusion had been shattered.
This was what you feared all along. You wanted to be honest with Mike but you were afraid if he knew where you were from and all about your childhood and experiences that he’d want nothing more to do with you. His silence spoke for him.
Tears streaming down your face you picked up your bag and walked towards the door, “I’m sorry.”
You heard Mike behind you, getting up from the bed, his feet on the creaky floorboards. You told yourself you’d give it a second for him to react, to do something to show you it was okay. Just then Mike placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, just quick enough and with just enough pressure that you knew it was safe.
“I’m not,” he said.
When you turned his expression had softened, the anger it had replaced you knew logically was not born of anger towards you or feeling let down. It was the opposite. Mike had always wanted to protect you, it was obvious he was angry at the others, angry he couldn’t have been there sooner for you. 
“I’m not sorry that you told me, I’m not sorry that you felt comfortable enough around me to be honest about your past. I’m not sorry for the tears we’ve shed or for this moment.”
There was no where you could run. No where you wanted to run to, no where to escape apart from into his arms. As you threw yourself around him a great sob escaped from your lungs like a whale breaching for air. It had been years in the making of crushing down the feelings and fear and now you were free. 
To be so vulnerable in front of Mike was to know love. It was to know safety in a way you had never experienced it before.
He stroked your hair and soothed you. There was no rush, no where you needed to be apart from here in this moment. 
“Y/N I am so proud of you,” Mike said softly, his fingers now weaving through your hair, his other hand stroking up your cheek and resting by your ear. He tilted his head a little and whispered, “I love you more than anything, nothing will ever change that.”
A moments silence passed before you pulled away a little, your arms still round him, chest practically flush to his. Looking up into his eyes you knew every word to be true. 
“I was so afraid,” you confessed. 
Mike listened tentatively, not wanting to interrupt you in what was clearly such a difficult and important moment. 
“I was afraid if you ever found out the truth you’d want nothing to do with me. That somehow you’d see me as unclean or dirty, that you’d be ashamed of me.”
Mike looked almost hurt as you spoke, tears welled in his eyes as he shook his head, “How could you think I…” he paused for a moment, clearly not wanting to lay any blame on you or to make you feel any more guilty. “It’s okay, I would never…but I understand your reluctance.” You looked down at his feet, how could you have ever thought he’d leave you? That wasn’t the man Mike was.
He stroked your cheek once more, tilted your chin up to look at him, “I love you, I’m so glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me this. I’m so glad that I know you as I do, that you let me in to that part of your life. You are incredible you know that?” He smiled now that same smile that reminded you of a warm summer’s day. 
The way his hair framed his face, a little tumbling over one of his eyes made you want to take him to bed once more. Your heart had steadied a little now that the truth was out the greatest weight had been lifted from your shoulders.
Mike bowed down and kissed your neck then sniffed, “Hmm you smell like peaches,” he mumbled. 
You stifled a giggle, Mike sniffing you was both the ultimate turn-on and also something so sweet and endearing you couldn’t help but laugh. When he did this it felt like home, he was home along with his quirky little habits. 
As he pulled away from your neck his lips trailed up to meet yours, his lips soft as silk against your naked skin. His kisses tokens of his love, affirmations that you were right to tell him the truth and you needed be afraid of being honest with Mike ever again. 
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thefloatingstone · 5 years ago
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If you’re doing Self Quarintine (and you should be if you can help it) here’s some Youtube recommendations! Some of these I have posted about or recommended before but with almost all of us stuck indoors now’s a good time to remind you of some cool things you can watch for free!
I’m not gonna imbed the videos, I’ll just post the link because otherwise I would only able to post 5 and I want to collect a few so you can make a playlist or something. (I could make a playlist too but then I couldn’t tell you what each video is and you can’t pick and choose which one sounds interesting to you)
In no particular order:
Polybius: The video Game that doesn’t exist
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An hour long documentary in which the youtuber did extensive research to find the origin of the “Polybius” Urban Legend, which speaks of an early arcade game reportedly seen around the early 1980s which reportedly gave people migraines, insomnia, nausea, subliminal messages, and in some cases heart attacks.
The Universal S
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A shorter video in which LEMMiNO does his very best to try and track down where exactly this S that we all drew in middle school comes from? Why does literally every country on earth seem to HAVE their children draw this S?
I also recommend LEMMiNO’s video on the Dayltov Pass Incident and the perplexing UFO cases
Down the Rabbit Hole: Henry Darger
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Fredrick Knudsen has an incredible fascinating series called “Down the Rabbit Hole” which simply focuses on... anything you can discover and go digging into. From weird internet personalities, to bizarre happenings in history. This video is about the artist Henry Darger, a man who lived in the early 1900s and for all intents and purposes had a perfectly average, lonely life, until it was discovered just before his death he had spent literally decades writing and drawing a fantasy world in what is possibly the longest piece of literature ever written.
I also recommend his video on the Hurdy Gurdy
Bedtime Stories Channel
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I’m actually just gonna link the whole channel for “Bedtime Stories”. If you like weird and creepy stories, all of which at least claim to be “true” then Bedtime Stories is great. Coupled by illustrations and subtle sound effects, Bedtime Stories is literally listening to someone tell you a story about such things like hikers who mysteriously went missing, Sightings of Bog Men in Florida and giant Birds over Chernobyl, as well as weird and unsettling murders that remain unsolved. Sometimes the facts are a little dubious or have been disproved, but that’s not the point of the channel. It’s here to tell a creepy story, not give you a documentary.
A Journey Through Rule of Rose
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Rule of Rose is a Survival Horror gave for the PS2 which has rather bad gameplay... but a FASCINATING story with just as many layers and symbolism as Silent Hill 2 could boast. It tells the story of one young woman traveling back into her own childhood in an orphanage in the 1930s, and all the horrors that contains. From repressed grief, abusive relationships, child neglect, abuse, and bullying... but it ALSO contains symbolism of societal class structure, politics, eating the rich, and how power structures work. Not for the faint of heart, but HIGHLY recommended.
I also super highly recommend his video on the similarities between Silent Hill 2 and Solaris
Clemps Reviews Crisis Core
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Mr. Clemps is a great internet gamer who reviews JRPGs and other games he simply enjoys. Sprinkling in a heavy dose of comedy and very fast jokes and observations, Clemps’ videos are always upbeat, fun, and incredibly enjoyable to watch. I’m linking part 1 of his Crisis Core video in which he explains why the PSP game remains a personal favourite of his despite its flaws.
I also recommend his video on Eternal Sonata
Defunct TV: The History of Dragon Tales
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Defunctland is a channel that deals with theme parks and theme park rides that are no longer standing, or which are no longer around in their current form. Defunctland also has a sub series though, called “Defunct TV” where they look at the origin of children’s TV which are no longer airing. I recommend the video on Dragon Tales which is incredibly wholesome, and a genuinely uplifting and soft story of good people trying to make good things for children. (I also recommend the videos on Bear in the Big Blue House, Zoboomafoo, and Legends of the Hidden Temple)
Hagan’s Histories of Polar Exploration
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A Playlist for Diamanda Hagan’s videos about the doomed Franklin Expedition from the late 1800s, where England tried to find a passage through the Northern Arctic to the Pacific Ocean. This went horribly horribly wrong, with every member of the Expedition dead. Over a 100 years later we are still fuzzy on what EXACTLY happened, but apart from the arctic chill, there is also evidence of faulty canned food, a series of bad decisions, and cannibalism. Caution advised for this series.
I also recommend the rest of Diamanda Hagan’s channel. She is NOT for everyone, but if you enjoy somebody reviewing Z grade indie movies as well as just BIZARRE films, really bad Christian media bordering on Science Fiction (without making fun of religion itself) hot takes of classic (and modern) Dr. Who, an introduction to Red Dwarf, She’s an EXCELLENT channel to check out.
Good Bad or Bad Bad: Pass Thru
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A half podcast half review show where two guys watch a terrible film, decide if it’s “Good” Bad or just Bad Bad and tell you if you should watch it too.
That’s it. That’s the whole show.
I recommend diving into the untold madness that is one of the best(?) bad film makers currently still producing batshit insane movies, the immortal Niel Breen.
There is literally nothing I can say that’ll prepare you for Niel Breen.
(I also recommend their more recent video for “Dancin’ It’s on!”)
History Buffs: Apollo 13
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Do you like History? Do you like movies ABOUT History? Do you want to know if the movies about history you watch actually resemble what really happened in any way at all? History Buffs is an EXCELLENT channel, which does talk about the merit of a film itself, but is mainly focused on letting you know just how true to life that historical film you watch is. I highly recommend his longest video which covers the space race between the USA and the USSR, leading to what is known as “The most Successful Failure in NASA’s History”. The Infamous Apollo 13 and where the words “Houston, we have a problem” came from.
If you’re not interested in Apollo 13 however, I also recommend his video on the movie Casino, as well as his video on the female philosopher, Agora.
The Internet Historian: The Goodening of No Man’s Sky
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With videos with literally MILLIONS of views, you probably already know the Internet Historian. But I still want to recommend him very highly because his videos are just THAT good and entertaining. I recommend his newest video, documenting that time we were all pissed off about No Man’s Sky, the difficulties the game studio was in when the game released, and how they have been working hard to finally create what is now a truly brilliant game which is winning major awards. A really good underdog story of how a video game company actually saw what was wrong with their game, and FIXED it.
I also recommend his video on Fallour 76 as well as the Failure of Dashcon
8 Creepy Video game mysteries
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Hey. Did you know that sometimes there’s some REALLY weird shit in video games, hidden easter eggs which took literal decades to find as well as just a lot of “what the actual fuck?”. Oddheader is a channel with a dedicated discord and Reddit form solely focusing on trying to find or replicate bizarre video game finds, mysteries, and hidden glitches. Even if it means getting in his car and driving to a specific arcade just to check a rumour about Street Fighter II’s arcade version. So if you like getting spooked by weird game shit that’s not just some dumb creepypasta, this is a great place to start.
I also recommend his video on weird discoveries in DVDs and movies.
Red Letter Media: Best of the Worst
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Look you already know who Red Letter Media is.
You know... these guys:
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Here’s a video of them and Macaulay Culkin watching 3 terrible movies together.
I recommend literally any and all of their videos. Their discussion on Carpenter’s The Thing is amazing.
The Impact of Akira: The film that changed Everything
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Ok trying to pick just ONE Super Eyepatch Wolf video is literal torture. Originally I was going to suggest his recent video on Final Fantasy 7 for the PSone but I realised I recommended something FF7 related with Clemps, so instead I will recommend The Impact of Akira, a video talking in depth about Akira both as a film as well as a manga, how it completely and utterly changed the anime industry both in Japan as well as the west, and why it is still a meaningful and one of the most important anime/manga even to this day, still being unsurpassed despite so much competition.
However, ALL of Wolf’s videos are incredible, so I also recommend his videos on wrestling (despite me not caring about wrestling at all), His video on how media scares us, The bizarre reality of modern Simpsons, Why the Dragon Ball Z manga is great, and literally any other video he’s made. He hasn’t made one bad video yet.
Was Oblivion as Good as I remember?
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Exactly what it says on the tin. The Salt Factory goes back to playing The Elder Scrolls Oblivion and now with hindsight and modern sensibilities, gives feedback on his experience and whether Oblivion still holds up. This isn’t a super in depth review of the game’s mechanics or how its put together or how it was made. This is simply one guy talking about his experience replaying it with somejokes thrown in and how he felt revisiting it. It’s pretty good.
I also recommend the video he did on Morrowind (because I’m biased).
Weird Japan Only PS1 games
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Thor High Heels is SO GOOD and deserves SO MUCH MORE subs than he currently has. THH focuses a lot of obscure and lesser known games as well as big popular titles like the Yakuza series, talking about what he likes about them, what he thinks is cool, and just what kind of atmosphere and mood a certain game has, even if the game itself is kind of ass. He’s done several videos on games that were only released in Japan, as well as videos talking about the fashion in Squaresoft games and how it inspired as well as was inspired by real world street fashion, the aesthetic of PC-98 games and other topics. He also styles his videos and thumbnails after promotional art for video games from the 90s and generally just has an excellent style to his channel over all. Very chill.
Blue Reflection Review
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ValkyrieAurora is a channel run by Sophie where she talks about games she personally likes and enjoys. Her videos are really laid back and her voice is really calm and pleasant to listen to. She’s made a bit of a reputation for herself as “The channel that talks about the Atelier Games” and general is just a really enjoyable channel worth checking out if you just want something soothing to listen to.
Ancient Chinese Historians Describe Japan
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Voices from the Past is a channel were historical text is read out loud in english. These can be anything like the above video where Chinese historians describe the people of Japan around 297 AD, Accounts of “Dog-Men”, or the worlds oldest letter of complaint from 1750 BC. If you’d like something interesting historically to listen to but don’t want a full blown history lesson, this is a really good way to hear contemporary people talk about their experiences and what they thought about each other in their own words, without opinions or input given by the narrator.
The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet
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Whang! is a channel that covers weird internet stories, some horrifying, some curious and interesting, and some just plain weird. His video on The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet and its update, are about a song which was recorded off the radio in Germany around the 1980s, and after one person online asked if anyone knew who the artist was as they couldn’t find any information, led to the realization that NOBODY online knows where this song came from or who sang it. It’s a fun mystery to look into that, unlike some others on this list, is not creepy or unsettling, although perhaps a little frustrating.
I also recommend his video on The Most Mysterious Anime theme song, and the haunted Ebay Painting.
5 Lost, Destroyed, and Locked away Broadcasts
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Yesterworld is similar to the Defunctland channel in that it talks about obsolete rides, theme parks and other forgotten pieces of entertainment. Although the majority of the channel focuses on movie rides, rollercoasters and Disneyland, I recommend the video on lost and locked away broadcasts which you can no longer see. I also recommend the video about Lost and Rediscovered movie props.
The Nightmare Artist
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I talked about this one recently as I just discovered this channel. This video is about the renowned Polish artist Zdzislaw Beksinski who painted surreal and horrifying paintings during his lifetime. There is no mystery here or anything like that, it merely talks about the impact WWII left on Beksinski and how the trauma his country and people suffered influenced his painting, and how certain images and motifs can be seen to directly reference this terrible part of Poland’s history.
Disabilities in Prehistory
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Modern media likes to portray how “savage” the ancient past is, and tell us stories of how any person born with a deformity or disability would be thrown over a cliff or dumped in a well because they would be too big a drain on a community to look after. But here’s the thing... according to archaeological evidence, it turns out our ancient ancestors actually did their best to look after its disabled members to the best of their abilities. This video talks about archaeological finds of people who had genetic disabilities and what we can learn from their remains. TREY the Explainer is a great channel for archaeology and also talking about what answers we could have for sightings of cryptids. (not ALL of which we have answers for)
I also recommend his video on Pre-Contact dogs as well as Homosexuality in Nature and the Genetic History of the Ainu.
Decoding “The Secret: A treasure Hunt”
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“The Secret” was an art book released in the 80s full of beautiful paintings, but it is also more than that. The book has a fantasy story talking about 12 fantastical races who left wonderful treasures for humans to find,and the book’s paintings and riddles will tell you where you can find each of these treasures which are yours to keep if you can solve the puzzle... and the treasures are 100% true and can actualy be found and claimed, if you can solve the riddles in the book. The video tells the story of the artbook, who was behind it, what the treasures are, how many have been found and various other facts and details.
I also recommend the videos on this channel “The Game: A scavenger Hunt” and “The investigation of Erratas”.
5 Ancient Inventions That Were WAY Ahead Of Their Time
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I would recommend you be careful with this channel as its main focus is existentialism and rather alarming topics such as “how close are we to the apocalypse” and other things whose titles alone are enough to upset me. However this video is nothing like that. This video is exactly what the title suggests it is. 5 ancient inventions that were so incredibly ahead of their time you’d think they were made up. From the computer used by ancient Greeks to steel swords we don’t know how to replicate, this video is a great mix of mystery and history.
Although I caution you with this channel, I recommend Joe’s other videos about mysterious books, as well as his video on the most inbred people in history.
However, I know I keep repeating this, I highly recommend caution with this channel. Perhaps its just me and the topics of life and existent are just triggering for me, but I’d recommend maybe just doing a search for the titles I mentioned and not to go searching through the video library unless you’re not bothered by this kind of thing.
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Anyway I could keep going, but I think that’s a LARGE amount of videos to keep you occupied for the time being as well as some suggestions for further viewing.
Please enjoy, let me know if you found something interesting, and look after yourself!
If you enjoyed this list at all, please consider tipping me for a coffee
☕️ Ko-fi ☕️
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calligraphist-artemisia · 4 years ago
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16 | Will-o’-the-Wisp
Written for Kidgetober 2020. Week 2 Theme: Myths & Magic. Day 16: Will-o’-the-Wisp.
Summary: Set in the Harry Potter universe.  Pidge finds herself lost in the woods on a dark, moonless night. She'd given up hope on getting home before sunrise when suddenly a light appeared between the trees to lure her deeper into the forest. Luckily, a handsome stranger is around to save her.
Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune. Titled as “Magic of the Season”.
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16 | Will-o'-the-Wisp
Pidge trudged through the undergrowth, cursing herself for deciding to take a stroll through the woods on a dark, moonless night. Why did she think it was such a good idea? She hated the woods! And nature in general.
Yes, she was definitely the indoors-y type, best suited to viewing the world from a screen and the comfort of her home.
She shivered and hugged herself, rubbing her arms with the hope of creating enough friction to generate warmth. She glanced up to try and see the stars but the canopy of trees completely blocked her view and the only thing that greeted her was more darkness. Her breath came in tiny pants as she looked around, barely able to make out the thick trunks, and it sank in just how well and truly lost she was.
Someone once told her: “the best thing to do when you're lost is to stay where you are”. But did that really apply when no one knew she was out there?
Pidge stopped and took a deep breath to try and calm down. What she needed to do was take a moment to think logically about the situation, highlighting all of the details she knew, and then come up with a workable plan from there.
So.
She was lost in the woods and it was too dark to see anything past a few inches from her face.
Her cell phone was very dead, though she did have a charging cable if she could find a place to use it.
She had no real way of navigating her way back to civilization.
Pidge reached out until she felt the bark of the nearest tree and used it as a way to ground herself. She briefly considered climbing up as high as she could go and hope it would be enough to get a look at the stars, which she could then use to get her bearings, but dismissed the idea as being potentially too dangerous.
There was nothing she could do but wait out the night and find her way once the sun rose once again.
She leaned against the tree and tilted her head back, wishing she could see something. Even the smallest pinprick of light would give her hope.
Pidge wasn't sure how long she stood there, her mind whirling through all of the different possibilities of how and when she would make it back to civilization and even entertaining the idea of someone heroically swooping in with a flashlight to save her. It was fun to imagine, though she knew it wasn't something that was going to happen.
She lowered her eyes and that was when she saw it: something glowing in the distance, lighting up the trunks of trees around it. Pidge held her breath in surprise. Surely she was hallucinating, right?
“Hello?” she called out.
She didn't get a response, but the light bobbed around a bit, as though whoever was holding it was trying to draw her in closer.
Or lead her out of the forest.
Pidge pushed away from the tree and began walking towards the light, praying that she wouldn't snag her foot on the undergrowth. To her confusion, the closer she got, the farther away the light seemed to move, occasionally stopping to sway and let her get a little more caught up before moving away again.
“Who's there? Can you slow down a bit?” Pidge called out, frustration bleeding into her voice.
And just like that, the light stopped. It hovered there in place, growing larger and larger as she approached. It pulsed in a mesmerizing pattern as it appeared the drift in the air, but Pidge didn't take any notice of how odd the whole thing was as she continued to follow it even as she sank to her ankles in cold, muddy water.
She shivered but kept going, the light too entrancing to stop. It would lead her to safety. She knew it.
The water lapped at her calves as the mud clung tightly to her feet, making any movement difficult, but she had to keep going. She was going to get out of the woods and make it back to her safe and warm home before the sunrise and a little bit of water and mud wasn't going to stop her.
Nothing could stop her.
A jet of crackling red energy shot past her shoulder and collided with the bobbing light, which emitted an inhuman screech as it skipped backwards over the water. Pidge watched, dazed, as two additional red jets shot out from behind her, colliding twice more with the light until the screeching stopped.
And then, suddenly, the water moved away from her legs and Pidge swayed, thankfully prevented from falling over into the deep mud by a pair of hands on her shoulders.
There was someone there speaking to her, but their words were so muffled that she couldn't make out what they were saying. Nothing made much sense. Her thoughts were so discombobulated that she couldn't keep anything straight and when the heavy fog clouding her mind finally lifted enough for her to think straight, she was sitting on a soft couch in an unfamiliar room with a warm blanket wrapped around her and a man with dark hair kneeling in front of her, holding up a mug for her to take.
“Drink this. It should help clear the rest of your shock,” he told her gently.
Pidge's hands were shaking so badly that she wasn't sure if she'd be able to hold onto the mug without spilling the drink everywhere, but she gave it a try anyway, choosing to rest it on the top of her legs until she was sure she could lift it high enough to drink.
“W-what happened?” she asked.
There was a moment of silence that stretched on for long enough that she wondered if she needed to repeat herself.
“The forest around here is dangerous at night, but especially during the new moon. Usually it isn't a problem since most people stay away once night starts to fall. They find it unsettling,” he said. “That light you encountered was something most folks would call a 'will-o'-the-wisp'.”
Pidge's brow furrowed in confusion. “But that's... that's not real. That's just a fairytale.”
“They're real and very dangerous. Their only goal is to lead people astray, typically into bogs or marshes, and... Well, those people don't come back.”
Pidge shivered at the implication.
“You were trapped pretty deeply into its thrall when I showed up, but you'll be okay now,” he continued. “Drink that. I need to finish preparing the spare room for you.”
“Spare room?” Pidge questioned.
He shrugged a little and then stood up. “I thought you'd prefer the privacy while you sleep.”
A flash of alarm shot through Pidge and she fought not to spill her drink. “I'm staying here? But why? I mean, don't you have a car or something? You could take me back into town!”
“Any other night, maybe, but... not tonight. And not when the most important thing is you getting rest. An encounter with a will-o'-the-wisp is draining even for people who know what they're doing and I want to make sure you're really alright before I send you away,” he explained.
Pidge watched him walk away without another word and she sat there by herself for several long minutes before remembering she had a drink in her hands. She took a sip and was pleased by the rich taste of hot chocolate, which warmed her down to her core and helped chase away the last traces of fogginess in her head.
And that was when she noticed how exhausted she felt.
Maybe there was something to what the strange man said.
The strange man whose house she was expected to sleep in.
Pidge sat up a little straighter and took a suspicious look around. Wherever she was, it had the appearance of a cozy little cabin with hardwood floors and a real stone fireplace tucked away in the corner. If she craned her head a little she could see directly into the kitchen behind her. There were six other doors that she could see, three of which was closed. The other appeared to be a bathroom and the third was the room the stranger had gone into, so Pidge assumed that was the spare room he mentioned. The final two closed doors led out the front and the back.
It would be easy to get up and leave. There was nothing stopping her.
But... there was also no reason she shouldn't stay. It was still dark out and she had no idea which direction to go in order to get back to an area she recognized. Plus, the stranger (who still hadn't given her his name) didn't seem like a bad guy. Maybe he was a bit weird, going on about a creature that didn't exist as though it were a real thing that people worried about, but that seemed like more of a quirky character trait rather than something to be concerned about.
Okay, maybe she'd be locking the bedroom door before she went to sleep. And moving something in front of it so he couldn't get in until she was ready to get up. And double-checking the windows. Maybe there was a closet she could sleep in?
There was nothing wrong with erring on the side of caution.
Pidge drank more of the hot chocolate while she waited for the stranger to come back and when he did, she blurted out the biggest question on her mind: “Who are you?”
He paused, a look of surprise crossing his face. “Oh, uh, I'm Keith.”
“Pidge,” she responded, unwilling to give him her real name.
“Okay, well the room is ready for you. I found a shirt and some pants that should fit you, if you want to be more comfortable and you can use that bathroom over there to wash up,” Keith said, pointing to the bathroom Pidge noticed earlier. “If you need anything else, my room is right there. Just knock and I'll come out to help. And, uh, you can see the kitchen, so if you need anything from there just help yourself.”
Belatedly, she realized he was trying to give her a tour of the house.
Keith paused for a moment to give her time to speak, but when Pidge said nothing he shifted his feet and spoke again. “You can leave your cup in the sink and I'll take care of it in the morning. And that's pretty much it. Just... I don't recommend going back outside until the sun rises.”
“Because of your make-believe creatures?” Pidge couldn't help but ask.
“Because it's dangerous to be in unfamiliar woods in the dark,” he responded, a hint of challenge in his voice. “Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but please listen to me on this and don't go outside. Even if you don't believe me about the will-o'-the-wisps there are other dangers, like wolves, that live out there.”
That was a good point.
Pidge quietly agreed to stay inside and watched as he relaxed, his relief completely obvious even to her. He offered a tiny smile and then said something about going to bed, leaving her completely alone on the couch.
She finished up her hot chocolate and put it in the sink like he said, though she did take the time to empty it and rinse it out first. Pidge debated for a moment whether or not she wanted to change her clothes before deciding she'd rather have something clean to wear, although...
Pidge glanced down at her jeans, which were surprisingly clean despite her vague memory of walking through mud.
Either way, jeans weren't comfortable to sleep in and she didn't see any harm in borrowing a shirt and pants, so she changed into those before going to check out the bathroom. The light clicked on by itself when she stepped inside and Pidge's gaze was automatically drawn to the round mirror over the sink.
She frowned and combed her fingers through her hair to try and tame the mess it had become, but there wasn't much she could do.
Apparently her reflection felt the same, because it shrugged at her once she was done and said: “Best rinse it out and try again, dear.”
Pidge blinked.
Then she opened her mouth and screamed as she backed away so quickly that her feet got tangled with each other and she toppled backwards. She felt pain and then blackness took over her vision.
The next time she opened her eyes, she was tucked beneath warm blankets and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. It took her a moment to remember everything that happened the night before, but as her brain started to fully wake up she jumped out of bed and set off to find Keith.
She needed answers and he was going to give them to her.
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growingupautie · 5 years ago
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StoryTime: The White Card Incident
(2,770 words but worth the read.)
In January of 2013, I was promoted from a part-time weekend job as a technology sales representative for Lenovo to the Marketing Development Manager for Lenovo in charge of half of my entire city of Houston. For a while, I felt like I was on top of the world. I loved my job and traveling through my city. I loved meeting all the people in the 50 plus stores I had to visit and started to memorize a lot of them and what we talked about.
I even made my route have me end up near Chinatown on some days so I could stop by and eat lunch there (and get some things from my favorite bakery.) But just as Kandace and I were planning on using this newfound position to get an apartment together, something terrible happened. In October of that year, we got on our weekly conference call as we always did, but the mood seemed somber and no one was talking or laughing like they used to.
When our boss came on, she also seemed upset and had trouble getting her words out. I could tell that everyone on the call, all 20 plus of us from across the United States just wanted her to say what was happening so we could rip the bandaid off. After a minute of praise that felt hollow given the tone of the call, someone finally asked if she could get to the news we were told to expect.
She said "sorry" and continued to tell us that the parent company we work for had lost the contract with Lenovo after failed negotiations and our positions were being terminated immediately. The call somehow fell more silent. Everyone had questions. Myself included. But in the end, we found out most of what we wanted to know. The Lenovo branded cars we drove were to be returned, (I had let my vehicle stay broken down as I didn't need it and it would be expensive to fix.)
The laptop we were provided was to be returned as well along with the phone, and hotspot device. But the most important bit of info came when someone asked if we would be allowed to apply for unemployment. "Of course we would be able to. We paid into it, we worked, we should be able to get that back." but to our surprise, the boss said something along the lines of "no don't do that! We could get in trouble! We haven't paid into that!" All of us were stunned. Someone asked how that was even possible.
It turns out the loophole in the law they had found was that because the company was in Akron Ohio, and we all worked and paid taxes in our various other cities somehow they managed to not pay into it. We didn't get bogged down into the why or how, but all that meant to us was suddenly we were without cars and a paycheck and would be denied unemployment. I was devastated. I really thought I had found a place to grow and could see myself making a career out of it.
We were about to sign papers on an apartment and suddenly I'm without a job, without a working car, and without any kind of financial assistance. Some issues happened around my family and after a short time, I got my car somewhat fixed and I moved out of the house into Dadaw's (grandmother's) house. I tried frantically to get another job. After all, I had just been in charge if half of Houston for a big company. Surely I would be offered another position somewhere soon.
But as time went by, nobody had called. I had very little money left, and very little outside help if any. Hope was dwindling, relationships were strained. I had spoken to at least 20 job placement agencies. After my mom informed me that I had been diagnosed as Autistic as a child, I had reconnected with D.A.R.S. (Department of Rehabilitative Services) who help people with disabilities get help with work and other things.
But they refuse to help me based on my other medical issues because they closed my case before, and they refused to help me as an Autistic until I got rediagnosed. They paid for me to be rediagnosed, I did so with no sleep, having skipped dinner and breakfast, and with a ridiculous amount of stress on my shoulders.
I aced their IQ test minus the memory portion, and after a while of convincing the doctor I was Autistic through old stories and experiences and the fact that I had been diagnosed, he agreed. That day, I went home with my heart sunk in my chest. I felt like a failure for needing this kind of help. I felt like a broken or incomplete person because I couldn't do it on my own.
And after months of their "help," working with a bunch of disability-based job agencies, the "help" of 20 plus other job placement agencies I had saught out, and filling out applications online myself, no matter what I tried, I couldn't get a job anywhere. I couldn't afford to eat, and I didn't want Dadaw to pay for me as she often couldn't afford much. A few people in my life suggested I get food stamps. Several people in my life told me I should apply food stamps. But the idea of that in itself was terrifying.
But after a while, between eating very little, my friends taking me out from time to time, and constant pestering from my family I felt I was left with no choice. I went to the food stamp office with my head down, the people around me had the same downtrodden demeanor. When they called me back, I felt a rush of emotions. Guilt, remorse, sorrow, anger that it came to this.
But most of all, I felt embarrassed. Growing up, food stamps had been used as an insult toward the people around me, I knew at one point my family had needed them and used them and I felt like as someone who had been constantly bullied growing up, I was opening myself up for more. I played through a million scenarios in my head as I walked back. Someone I know seeing me at the checkout counter, the cashier silently judging me, the people around me, me dropping the white card with the unmistakable logo in front of someone.
I snapped out of it and sat down in the interview room to answer questions to determine my eligibility. But it felt like a police interrogation to me. I felt like I was cheating the system. Like it wasn't for me, but someone else who deserved it. Someone else who needed it. I felt the eyes of the interviewer boring into me as if to say "why are you even here?" I spoke up about to break. "I...I don't even want to do this." Her face changed from accusatory and annoyed, to shock.
I let her know that I felt like I had no other choice, that I felt embarrassed. I explained my situation, and she looked at me almost begrudgingly endearing. "Son, if you need help, you need help." she said. "That's what it's here for." I felt somewhat relieved or at least a little better about not actually cheating the system. They accepted my application, and I was approved.
When I got the card, I was once again filled with dread. Replaying the simulations over and over in my head a million times. Finding a way to cheat the system in a way to avoid being bullied, I realized I could use the self-check-out. Then quickly realized if I get one of those "please remove items from cart" messages or something else regarding my card, someone would have to come up and help me anyway.
Still, I figured it was my best hope for avoiding confrontations, and I parked outside the grocery store. I checked my balance on the card and made sure everything was working, went in and got a basket, and started shopping while feeling like a spy. Like somehow I would get caught and it would be the end of the road for me. I'm honestly surprised nobody thought I was shoplifting as nervous as I was.
When I was done, I walked over to the self-check-out area doubling down on my earlier decision when a woman stopped me and said they were all closed for repairs. Panic set in. I didn't say anything. I just sort of smiled and walked away with my basket.
The 15 items or less line was almost empty but I had too many items. The next line had too many people. The next few lines had the same amount of people and items, and I started doing the math on which cashier was scanning and bagging faster vs how judgmental they look trying to get myself into the best possible situation.
Eventually, I found a line sandwiched between two closed lines with only one woman and her 2 kids in the basket with a few items. The cashier didn't seem to care much about anything and didn't seem like a gatekeeper or any other kind of threat. And the woman in front of me seemed sad and aloof as well so I felt like things were going to be ok. The woman smiled at me and apologized for having so many items. "It's not that much. It's fine." I responded with a smile.
But suddenly from behind me, I felt a high strung angry presence. Like a monster who's in a hurry and I'm in his path. As each item was scanned, he started saying "Oh God...." "Of course..." and "Just great..." in a demeaning and monstrous tone. The woman continued to hide her face with her back to him and sulked further into herself as he continued. "Cash or credit?" The cashier asked in a monotone voice. "I...uh...Here..." The woman said quietly and she tried to hand her..."A food stamp card..." I thought to myself.
I realized that I and the woman felt the same at that moment. In need of help, but afraid to seek it out, and even afraid to use it once that help had been provided. I started to piece the scene together realizing the kids had beat up shoes and clothes, and the woman did as well. They were clearly hungry and frightened by this angry rhino of a person and just wanted to get some food. I started to think of all the scenarios that could have put them in that situation. But then I realized it didn't matter.
Only a moment had passed while I thought through all of these things, the children were terrified of this man already and then he saw it..."OH GREAT! MY TAX DOLLARS AT WORK!" he screamed scaring the kids even more. He began to verbally narrate what he thought her situation was. accusing her of getting "knocked up" to "leech off the system." He said people like them were a "drain on the economy" all while using language inappropriate to use around her children.
At that moment after the initial shock wore off, I grasped my card in my pocket as anger built up inside of me. I knew what I was afraid of, I had built it up in my head, and this ignorant jerk was making it a reality for a down on their luck mom and her two scared children. I immediately pivoted. "What did you just say?" I told him with a face that said: "I dare you to repeat that." apparently too blustered to care, he said, "I SAID PEOPLE LIKE HER ARE A DRAIN ON THE ECONOMY!"
I whipped my card out and held it in-between two fingers right in his face. "And what about me?" I spoke out with an angry but in control tone. "I...Uh..." he said as it became clear to me, like most bullies, this one was only doing this because he thought his targets (this mom and her kids) would not be able to defend themselves. I yelled at him more, trying to control my voice so I didn't frighten the kids anymore "Well, you had all kinds of ignorant crap to say a minute ago!"
He snapped out of his shock bullies go into when someone stands up to them. "Wh...Why don't you mind your own business?! I WASN'T EVEN TALKING TO YOU! WHY DON'T YOU FIND ANOTHER LINE!" He started to build up steam again making the children huddle in the cart.
Having had enough of his nonsense I moved my card, leaned in with a scowl, got uncomfortably close to his face and angrily whispered: "Why don't YOU find another line before I find one for you..." a terrified look came across his face as he realized doubling down on his ignorance would not get the job done and after a pained audible gulp in the "big man's" throat he was frantically on his way spouting off "That's what I thought" and other face-saving phrases.
I timidly turned back to the family making sure I had dropped my "don't mess with me" persona (My Autistic folks know this one) so I didn't scare them. I asked them if they were ok. Her eyes were filled with tears, and so were the kids. She smiled at me and thanked me for stepping in. I told her kids that it was ok because he was gone now and offered to walk them to their car. She said she appreciated it but they would be fine.
The checkout woman handed her a receipt and obviously wanted to stay out of the situation. I saw the woman leave and she smiled at me on the way out. I had enough items that it took a good 5 minutes to check me out. I realized in that time I was no longer afraid of being seen with my card. Maybe it was the adrenaline of standing up to that bully, maybe it was outing myself to protect that family, after all, it would be silly to be afraid now that everyone had clearly seen it.
I paid, went outside, and on my windshield was a note on small lined paper that had been torn out of a planner of some sort that said: "You will be blessed all the days of your life." I don't know who left it, or if it was in response to what happened, or even how they found out which car was mine, but it was there.
The message here is two-fold. First, it is easy to get caught up in thinking you don't need help, or that even if you did it isn't for you. "It's for someone more deserving." sometimes it's just the fear of being bullied or ridiculed for accepting it. And because of this, a lot of people wait until they hit "the bottom" before they ever consider asking and even then they might not.
In a better world, we would destigmatize the need for help. Therapy, government assistance, shelters, these things are in place to help people, and if people need help, they should be able to get it without being berated to tears over it. The last thing someone who's questioning if they need help or not needs is some blowhard with their ignorant opinions of why they don't. Which brings me to the second message.
If you see something like this happening, and you have the power to step in whether you are personally affected or not, do it. This includes all forms of bullying. Bullies are cowards. They may double down, but once these types of people realize that we won't allow this anymore and there are actually people who will stand against them, they buckle under the pressure. If you see it, shut it down.
This has been another [Growing Up Aspie] Storytime. If you'd like to help me make more content more often, please consider supporting me at Paypal.me/growingupaspie or with a monthly pledge of $1 or more at patreon.com/irishwolfproductions. Thank you for your support.
-Nathan Alan McConnell
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ask-the-clergy-bc · 5 years ago
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Hiya! So in your opinion what do you think it would take for the Papas and Cardinal Copia to open up and be vulnerable with a S/O? Would it need time and trust, maybe an event which caused them to have an epiphany, or maybe they get caught at a bad time and need some comfort? Thank you!
I accidentally made this into a giant character introspection, whooooooooooops! 
Ooooooooooooooooh boy, this is gonna be a long one so sit down! There’s no easy answer for me to give without a thesis sooooooooooooooooooooo-
Papa’s and Copia - What it Takes to have them be Truly Vulnerable with an S/O
Character flaw and reflection time! I will warn you these men are all far from perfect! 
There’s definitely a LOT of elements and circumstances for each of these Antipopes, so I will try my best to sum it up without letting it get too big! Trust will be the key word in opening them all up! 
A super short answer for this would be a small chart. From easiest to hardest to open up genuinely to an S/O (regardless of the situation), it would look something like this. 
Papa Nihil
Papa I
Cardinal Copia
Papa II
Papa III
Keeping this in mind is actually really important as a lot of it has to play into each personality and life experiences. Even then, this is a super tight race! They all don’t blindly trust and they all have a level of mystery they NEED to keep about them. So it’s a huge mix of their jobs as Papas and who they are deep down. 
There is a reason such things like Prime Movers exist/ Having courtesans and harem members rather than proper spouses. A Papa could easily be compromised by a spouse. With either a partner using them to manipulate the Church, or straight up betraying them. A Papa has to be alert, smart, and VERY VERY sure when choosing a lifelong mate. They have to be able to know without a doubt that they can count on their partner with their very lives and the lives of others. 
THEN there are so many personal factors and circumstances that come into play! It’s safe to say that all of them are emotionally guarded in some way, shape, or form. That comes with the territory of being a Hell Blooded man of power. You don’t know who REALLY loves you, who’s using you, or who wants something. On top of that, the emotional burdens of their work, their faith, personal fears, and the expectations put on them. 
It can be VERY hard to gauge what really clicks for each of them to trust someone. So, as asked, we will take a look into each of them! :)
Papa Nihil:
If you caught him in his younger years, he might have been more trusting with a serious partner. Not out of naivety or blind love, but out of arrogance. Arrogance that a partner could not hurt him even if they betrayed him. Nihil had an ego to him and felt on top of the world- being Papa and nothing to stop him. Not even a broken heart! To him, the worst thing that could happen with an S/O would be heartbreak, and he refused to believe that was anything that could break him! Well… it ended up happening with Sister Imperator. So after she left, he understood the consequences of his actions and what that would actually feel like. It’s not something he’s too keen to feel again. 
As he got older, he hardened. The only one who has really ever seen his softer, vulnerable side has been Imperator. She’s the only one he remotely trusts in the deepest sense, and even then- he has doubted her motives with the introduction of Copia! Nihil learned the hard way that putting your trust in the wrong people can have serious consequences to your life. 
That all being said, two things really work with getting Nihil to be open to you with his feelings. First would be his “test”- not something he purposely does to make his S/O jump through hoops, mind you. Consider it an observation period where he sees how serious a relationship can be with you. Nihil doesn’t mind flings, and as Grand Papa, has a willing harem at his disposal. The first months or years with a single partner is him learning about them. This goes from seeing how serious YOU are, your intentions and sincerity, how well you both click, and how close you end up being. That, and making sure you aren’t just using him. Granted, he doesn’t mind the occasional arm candy or someone who just wants to have fun. Those are just the partners he doesn’t put extra effort into when it comes to emotions or deeper mental intimacy.
The second is just plain old time. If you two become serious, and stick by each other through thick and thin- you will learn about him. Nihil will slowly disclose more and more to you. Don’t go crazy, because the Grand Papa is always watching for any hints of betrayal (nothing personal, it comes with the job.) So the more you are trustworthy, the more he shares. There will be a few tough subjects to crack with him, like his relationship with Imperator and his sons. But the more you mutually talk and grow together, the more things work out. I will warn you, no matter how much he trusts you he IS a stubborn old goat and some information HAS to be pried from him- simply because HE WILL NOT ADMIT ANYTHING TO HIMSELF SOMETIMES. 
Papa I:
Papa can be very open and trusting with a serious partner, that typically is not the problem. Granted, he’s very analytical so his own feelings are something he tries to approach logically. But that’s not the problem. The hurtle would just be you both getting to be a serious couple in the first place. As to him there is a vast difference between a sexual/romantic fling, casual companionship, and the workings of a true mate ship. The last of which is riddled with pitfalls due to his place as Papa and carrier of his bloodline. 
Papa tends to let his sense of duty rule over almost every aspect of his life. He is one of the ‘purest’ followers of Lucifer, and it shows in everything he does! Because of that, he has not typically sat down to consider companionship past his carnal needs and having someone to spend time with. Typically anything deeper would mean something equivalent to our idea of marriage- and with “marriage” to a Papa brings up the topic of possible heirs brought on by the Ministry. When a Papa is heavily involved with someone beyond their casual lovers, the idea of heirs is ALWAYS discussed. The Bloodline HAS to be continued. Depending on the sex of the partner, questions will be asked such as- can the partner become a prime mover? If possible are they SUITABLE? If they can’t have children will they interfere in possible heirs being made? In short, Papa equates “Serious” partners to this duty to sow the seeds of the bloodline’s future. 
That being said, Papa would actually prefer a partner he could be open with. The trick is that he has to snap himself out of thinking just for the family and ministry’s sake. Which is self admittedly a difficult feat for him, because he’s always in work and faith mode. That’s just who he is. The other just has to do with how he treats others. 
Typically Papa is much more interested in what you, his partner, is feeling. This comes with YEARS of thinking of everyone but himself. Papa has had to consider his flock, the will of the high clergy, the will of his father, the wants and needs of his brothers, and those he considers friends or in need of his guidance. Papa knows how to take care of himself, so HIS feelings are almost inconsequential. Papa much rather let you talk and share how you are than consider himself. It typically just takes a bit of asking and prodding on your part to get him to open up if you two have been close for a long time. Being honest and to the point also helps, as it gives him a moment to collect his thoughts and express himself thoroughly. 
Papa II:
Being emotionally vulnerable for Papa II is very difficult. Not because he CHOOSES to be a ‘wounded bitter old man.’ Even though he is very much that AND a known grouch and perfectionist; Papa just doesn’t know HOW to be. Papa does have emotions and he does feel them very deeply when he’s not trying to tough it out. But Papa has never been GOOD at expressing his feelings, even as a child. It’s not something he was in touch with, and not very comfortable for him to think about. Unlike III, Papa II just cannot seem to find it in himself to express his true feelings. Granted, he could put it into words as he is very eloquent. But… it’s difficult. 
On top of that, Papa has never been one to let his weaknesses appear. Emotions are often embraced by Lucifer, as expressing them. But to Papa, these are his weak points and he prides himself too much in keeping all his weaknesses guarded. Papa has crafted himself to cover his vulnerabilities in such a way that they play to his strengths! For his emotions and true feelings, he detaches from them; giving him the ability to lead with a critical and objective mind not bogged down by empathy. As a Papa, this makes him an excellent and analytical leader. As a lover, this often bites him in the ass- especially in pursuing any SERIOUS life time commitments. Something he wasn’t keen on doing in the first place. 
Papa is very aware of how ‘spouses’ work for the Bloodline. Bonding with a potential mate has always been in the interest of furthering the family, not personal fulfillment. He’s tried VERY hard to keep it that way. And like his father, he is painfully aware of those who would manipulate his feelings. And if we were being honest? The idea of genuinely falling in love scares the absolute shit out of Papa. The idea of being so vulnerable to a person who could crush your very soul, the soul of a demon blooded Antipope, is not something to take lightly! And it’s NOT like he has had any good role models to show how true love should operate… 
To win him over, it would be a good idea to show HIM your vulnerable side first. Kinda like when a cat shows you its belly as a sign of trust. LEt him see the ugly side of you, the insecure- but slowly. Don’t hit him all at once with everything. You have to let Papa come to you. It might take a lot of time this way, but it’s a start- there is a reason he feels more comfortable with submission. It makes him feel so much more secure. Also showing your dedication and love through action and not words will be HUGE! Showing him you can be trusted, that you have a good head on your shoulders, and that you have his best interests at heart. Alternatively, if something life altering should happen to him, you supporting him is the ultimate display of your dependability. If you try to force him at any point he will pull back out of reflex. It’s one of the few times he lets your roles be reversed. 
Papa III: 
Many would accuse his older brother, Emeritus the II, of being the hardest to make vulnerable- yet many are surprised that it is actually him! But Papa has spent years weaving a huge web around himself. Papa has so many masks and layers to him out of fear that sometimes even he doesn’t know what part of him is genuine or not. He learned from an early age that he was the most emotional, and most likely to get hurt. And let me tell you something, Emeritus the Third is NOT a man who likes the feeling of being hurt emotionally. It’s practically unbearable for him. He already deals with a lot of emotional burdens from feeling as though he were the ‘weak’ one of the Bloodline. Truth be told, he hasn’t had the best relationship with his father, either. 
What’s worse? As much as he likes to talk about himself, Papa does NOT like talking about his true issues and anxieties. Papa usually deflects in such subtle ways that those close to him THINK he is being vulnerable, when in truth he is being superficial. So when you hear him complain about how the Ministry treats him, or a minor insecurity brought on by an argument with his brother- you are only scratching the surface. And even if he loves you, Papa does not want you to see that ugly, miserable side of him. He doesn’t even want to acknowledge it himself. If he can barely stand these horrible sides to himself, how does he expect you to stay and accept him? 
For Papa III, the key factor would be time and patience. But this is further made difficult with his fleeting interests and inability to commit. The natural way to his vulnerable side is by never leaving his side, assuming he doesn’t forcibly push you away. For example, one of the few who know him deeply is Omega and his eldest brother, Papa I. That’s because they have been around his entire life. Either you would have to be the same, or be there in a huge moment of weakness to have him even remotely come clean. 
The best (or in his case, worse) would be you being there at his absolute lowest point. When he’s so far gone in his emotions that he can’t even muster up the energy to put on a show. When he can’t bring himself to be Papa, to be charming- hell even RUDE AND ANGRY. The best example would be like if you were around after he was stripped of the Ghost Project and made a fool out of publically. That was such a horrible time for him and everyone around him. But if you are there with unconditional love and he SEES that you love him through every facet of his identity, he will want to stick close and loyal to you. It will take MORE time, but little by little Papa ends up baring his soul to you. He’d be lying if he said he still wasn’t afraid to confide in you, least you up and leave...  
Cardinal Copia/Papa IV:
Copia has struggled with trust nearly his whole life, and ALL of his career in the High Ministry. If we are being honest, as welcoming and loving as the church is, the upper clergy is full of deceit and cutthroat tactics. It’s as competitive and dangerous as any monarchy or noble circles. That’s because within it there is a LOT more at stake. Ministry members have vanished or been found dead thanks to inner politics, and Copia has his share of close calls. He’s had to learn to trust no one but yourself, and never EVER let your guard down too much.
Unfortunately, this does bleed into his personal life. Copia has had his share of bed mates and even lovers that have stuck around longer than anticipated. But long term commitments have been very few and far between. And to be honest, he HAS been burned before. From those who sought to betray him to partners who just DIDN’T LIKE who he really was underneath. Copia has buried that hurt and tried to use it as a reminder of why he needs to keep himself until he makes it to the top. Then NO ONE could hurt him the way they could when he was a mere Ministry member.
Copia has always been really cautious around lovers to the point of paranoia. Where he adamantly refused to let himself be weak at any point! He is always good to them, but is just plain scared of letting his guard down. But the difference between Copia and the rest of the Papas is that Copia CRAVES intimate connection like you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes he desperately wants that stability and trust with another person without fear of repercussion. Copia often feels like he can never have it, and it’s one of the few things he wants almost as bad as the Papacy. But he’s never had time or a chance to- far too much to do and too much to risk!
One of the biggest ways Copia ends up calming down around you and actually opening up is if you have been there for the long run. Especially if you two were some type of couple or close BEFORE he was ever chosen for the Ghost project. Copia needs that undying support and consistency to really warm up to you. If you’ve unconditionally been there from the beginning and have not changed since his Papacy, Copia is nothing but loyal to you in return. Copia is a very good actor, but he will still be skittish and reluctant to talk too much. You just have to be patient with him as he gets comfortable. I promise, he wants nothing more than to trust you completely.
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futurewriter2000 · 5 years ago
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Dangerous Woman
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A/N: This was i my drafts for far too long. I think it was time to finally stop procrastinating and actually write it down. 
REQUEST: Hi love! I don’t know if you’re taking requests right now but I love your writing!!! Could you do a post Azkaban siriusxreader where she is a new hufflepuff recruit for the order (maybe she’s friend with Tonks from their Hogwarts days and Tonks got her in idk but she def is younger than Sirius so he feels kind of guilty about it) and they fall in love and live happily ever after. THANK YOU UR SO GREAT.
XX
Being nervous was your worst habit.It was a habit you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried. You tugged your sleeves in your palm, you bit your lip too harsh too many times, you jumped your leg each time you sat down and you cracked your fingers one time too many. 
Tonks who was walking beside you was grinning. She always found it amusing when you grew nervous. “I bet you can’t wait to meet them?” she nudged you as the two of you were at the front of the door.
“Oh, I am just....fantastic.” you started to jump your leg. Your heartbeat was racing, your palms were clammy...Nervous? You? Never.  “So....one’s a werewolf? He’s not dangerous?” you looked worriedly.
“He’s no Greyback. Quite the opposite,actually. A real teddy bear.” she winked and entered the room.
“And the Black?” 
“All a misunderstanding.” she waved her hand and started walking through the hall yet your heart was about to explode in your chest and your mind was becoming more and more paranoid.
“Tonks!” you pulled her by the hand. She looked at you with wide, confused eyes and you bit your lower lip yet again. “I don’t know about this.”
“You wanted to help, (y/n). Don’t you trust Dumbledore?”
“I trusted too many people and you know where that got me. Most of my family is dead because of trusting the wrong people.”
“Well, Dumbledore is not your twat of a cousin.” she smiled but saw she couldn’t really get through you. She put both of her hands on your shoulders and gave you a comforting smile. “You don’t have to trust them. You just have to trust me.” 
You tried to relax after those words but there was still the racing heartbeat and the sweat coming from your skin. You simpered at her and raised your head high. “That was always a mistake in Hogwarts.” you smiled and wrapped your arm around her. 
She laughed and stomped clumsily along side you. “I have no bloody clue of what you are talking about. You loved getting into trouble with me.” 
---
Both of you entered the room that was just as dark as the hallway, maybe a bit lighter. As soon as you were in the room, Tonks left your side and stepped to the tall, scarred man. She smiled brightly and you swore you could see her eyes glimmer as she looked at him. He wasn’t much different. As soon as he saw Tonks enter the room, he was beaming and his cheeks could reach his narrow, green eyes. 
“This is Remus Lupin.” she introduced, pointing at another following people. “Molly and Arthur Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody and-” she stopped and turned back to Remus. “Where’s my cousin? Don’t tell me he went to brood in his room again?” she put her hand gently on Remus’ chest and you felt your eyebrow quirk. 
That was “friendly”.
Remus chuckled at her comment and pointed at the space behind you. “He’s just-”
“Brooding in my room, cousin? Really?” a man appeared behind you and without a doubt you jumped in front. 
He  only walked on the other side of the room and leaned on the fire place, nibbling on some roasted peanuts. He smiled wickedly at you- wickedly? No, that’s not the right word. Perhaps more mischiviously than wickedly. There was definetly something in this man that caused a cold shiver run down your spine. 
“You are a Scorpio after all. “
“My sign has nothing to do with that. Though we do get dark a few times but we’re also quite charming, mysterious... sexual.” his eyes flashed at yours for a second before back at the couple in front. A grin twisted itself on his lips and he nibbled on another peanut.
“Mhm.” Tonks narrowed her eyes at him. 
“Who’s this?” he let the bag in his hand drop on the table and cross his arms in front of his chest. 
“That’s my good friend (y/n)(y/l/n).” she introduced and after she, you and most of the people in the room expected Sirius to say something in return, he only stared. The tension started to built and you could feel an odd knot form in your stomach. Your gut was telling you this man was not someone to be trusted and at times like this you relied more on your gut than you did on your brain. 
He could see it in your eyes. They way the fire burnt in them, he knew you didn’t trust him, not even the slightest. 
“How do you do?” another man, Remus, if you recall, stretched out his hand and gently smiled at you. “I’m Remus Lupin, as Tonks said before.”
You averted your gaze away from the man with black curls to the man with light brown hair. He was more gentle on the eyes, easy on the smile and when you took his hand, the grip was firm yet too soft. 
A smile, just as easy as his, and eyes just as gentle, appeared on your face and you introduced yourself to each and one in the room except one. When it was his turn, he stood in front of you, eyes blazing, lips sealed and curved into a smirk. He just stood there, observing your every corner as you did the same to him.
There was something between the two of you that was seen to everybody. You didn’t trust him and he surely didn’t trust you. 
“Can we trust you?” he said without any introduction. 
“100%.” you answered without a heartbeat. “Can we trust you?”
“They can, you...well, you should watch your back.” he kept his stand close meanwhile you only furrowed your eyebrows.
“Can you not be so dramatic for once, cousin.” Tonks got inbetween the two of you. “Scorpios, I’m telling you.” she shook her head and lead you out of the room. 
When the two of you were out of sight you turned to Tonks and spoke. “I don’t trust him.”
“He’s family.” she brushed her hand as it was nothing, then after a few moments of pondering what she said, she awkwardly stretched a smile and chuckled. “I know what you mean. He is family but-BUT he’s not like them. He got betrayed by his best friend. I’m just saying he has hard time trusting new people.”
“That makes two of us.” 
--- 
From all of responsibility, you had to be given this one. 
‘ You ran after her. “Tonks! TONKS!” you shouted meanwhile she kept storming away. You grabbed her by the arm and turned her to you. “I did not apply for this just so I can babysit a grown man!” 
“You are not babysitting him! You are being in charge to stay here until we come back!” she snapped back. 
“Trust me, darling. I’m not fond of being stuck here with you either.” he smirked and leaned on the door frame. 
“Bog off, Sirius.” Tonks snarked at him before turning back to you. “It’s only for a few days and you are needed here. If anything goes wrong and if the Death Eaters catch you, how will I live with myself? If your cousin gets you in his hands for what you did to him, he won’t just kill you. He’ll make you want to be killed. You’re too important. Pureblood, wealthy, respected! “
“I don’t care!”
“You should!” she snapped back meanwhile Sirius only watched. “You think your mother and father died protecting you so you can get killed! No! So stop looking for ways to get killed and do as you are told!” and with that she was out of sight. ‘
She just had to use your parents against you. 
She was right, though. In any way, your cousin put a bounty on you and it’s not cheap. 
You sat on the sofa with your head laid back and your eyes on the ceiling. 
He popped in your sight, a mischief reflecting in those light blue eyes and before you know it he was grinning at you like someone up to no good. “I’m not that bad once you get to know me.” 
“You told me to watch my back with you. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“I was only trying to intimidate you. Maybe scare you away. I hate new recruits.” he jumped over the sofa with a glass bottle in his hand and two glasses in the other. 
“What’s this?” you glanced down at his hands.
“This is- what I call- a nice way of getting through the day.” he put both of them on the table and started pouring. “You don’t have to but you should. You’re way too tense.” he took the full glass in his hand and leaned on the sofa.
“That’s because I’m around you.” you took the other glass in your own hand and took a sip...
or two...
or three....
or maybe a few too many because the next thing that you remember is lying on the sofa with  your head on his lap. One of his arms was holding an empty glass meanwhile the other was resting on your hip. He was pulling in light snores. You tried to sit up but your head kept dragging you back down. It was heavy- it was hangover.
“What time is it?” you tried to look at the clock but everything seemed so blurry. You squeezed your eyes, trying to sharpen the view but it didn’t much help due to the headache. 
“My neck is stuck.” he groaned and tried to raise his head. 
You looked at him with completely swollen eyes and with all the energy in your body, you climbed up to him, put your hands around his neck and trying to lift it gently. 
“It’s completely sore.” he gritted his teeth as his eyes were now directed at you. “Thank you.” he said, looking up at you with those gentle eyes of his.
“You get a girl wasted and expect to take care of your hangover. Chilvarous.” you smiled and started to pull your hands away from his neck but he stopped you. His hands were holding your forearms and he gently put them back. 
“I didn’t mean to.” he left another grin form on his lips as your hands dug into his curls. “But you were definetly more loose and fun when you were not hating me and actually enjoying my company.” his hands slid down your hips and you climbed up his lap, leaning in. At first it was only a small graze of your lips against his but with the taste of it, you dived into those lips like they were honey. There was still a taste of alcohol as your tongues danced tongether but you didn’t mind. Your mind, his mind, your body, his body,... everything was still intoxicated and both of you were just being careless. 
He was a great kisser, the kind that can make you drunk in their own way and his hands- his hands were all over you. The way they roamed your body, the way his fingers dug into your skin was euphoric... until he pulled away and tried to speak. “This-” he whispered but you only dived into another kiss, not even letting him finish.
“Less talking.” you bit his lower lip and he chuckled into it.
“You’re trouble.” 
“So are you.”
“This isn’t right-” 
“Isn’t it?” you let your hands travel to his scruffy beard and your thumb brush over his lips. 
He gently placed a kiss on it, looking up as you sent him a dangerous smirk. 
“So what’s it going to be, Sirius Black?”
---
Oh, how he wished he hadn’t done what he did. Everything you did was driving him insane right now. The way you leaned to put the plates on the table, the way your hand reached to put the salt in the middle, your thigh, your back-
“Sirius!” Tonks snapped her fingers in front of him and all the attention fell back on him. He shook his head to look at his cousin but already, your eyes were on his and they were dangerous to look at since the night the two of you had. “Listen to me.” 
“Yeah, sorry- sorry.” he turned to Tonks, taking last look at you before focusing all his mind on his cousin. “I’m listening.
But that look, that last glance at you was one too many because now Tonks knew and she wasn’t much happy about that. He grabbed Sirius by the sleeve and started pulling him away into a quiet, more private room. She slammed the door behind her and started shouting. 
“HOW DARE YOU, SIRIUS ORION BLACK! HOW BLOODY DARE YOU!” she shouted and he tried to shush her. “THE FIRST FEMALE FRIEND I BRING AND YOU’RE ALREADY CRAWLING UP HER KNICKERS LIKE SOME SORT OF- OF A SLAG!
“Shut up, Tonks!” he put her hand across her mouth. “ Don’t you think I know that! I know. I know. I shouldn’t have but we were both bored and drunk and one thing led to another-”
“YOU GOT HER DRUNK!” she was mortified. “She is trying her best, Sirius! She is trying to clear her family’s name and the first thing you do is-”
“I know Nymphadora!” he snapped and she shut her lips tight. “I know.” he said ashamed. “I know I shouldn’t have done what I did but it happened and I can’t take it back.”
He looked at her, eyes guilty and cheeks dropped. She knew that look. She knew it...it was the same one Remus gave her each time she tried more with him. She loved Remus from the depths of her heart. She loved him like any person can love another but he always denied himself her and his own love. 
“Oh, Merlin.” she sat on the bed and burried her head in her palms. “You have feelings for her, don’t you?” 
“I do.” he replied shamefully and her head shot up at his tone. “But I won’t come close to her again. I’ll leave her alone. I’m too old for her anyway-”
“Shut your mouth right now, Sirius Black.” she stormed to him, her head burning red. “You won’t ignore her! You won’t hurt her just because there is a gap between the two of you. If she doesn’t want to date you, she won’t but you are not going to just leave her like she was this- this one night stand! Do you know how that feels, pinning after somebody meanwhile they turn you the blind eye! It’s not fair, Remus! It’s just not fair!” she continued to shout meanwhile Sirius listened.
She knows what she called him and so did he. He couldn’t overhear it. Her hair turned blue and she stepped away. 
“Remus, huh?” Sirius simpered. “He’s a good man.”
“Sometimes too good for his own sake.” Tonks continued before putting her hand up his cheek and speaking for the last time. “It’s not fair to deny her and yourself the love you both want.” and with that she was gone. 
---
Sirius stood in the middle of he room, still pondering everything, over and over again. It was so much...so many years...and you were just so beautiful, so young, so full of life meanwhile he-
“Sirius?” there was a knock on his door and he looked up to see who it was, though that voice could belong only to one person and one person only. 
He wanted to smile yet he couldn’t. 
“It was a mistake, (y/n).” he said, looking away. 
That caused your heart to squeeze but you swallowed the feeling and continued his way. “It wasn’t to me.” you stood in front of him with your hands touching his curls. “And I know it wasn’t to you as well.” your hand slid down to his stubble and you smiled. 
He still couldn’t look up. “I’m a burdon.”
“You’re not a burdon.” you objected. “At least not to me.” yet he still didn’t want to look at you. “Look at me Sirius.” you lifted up his chin yet his eyes still didn’t reach you...until he gathered the courage and finally let himelf see you. Why were you so breath-taking all of a sudden? Why did he had to do this to himself? He’ll end up hurt.
“I’m not someone you want a future with.”
“I won’t know if I don’t try.” you smiled and leaned down into a gentle kiss. His hands wrapped themselves around your thigh and he pulled you on his lap. 
“You’re driving me mad, you know.” he spoke, looking down on your lips and kissing them. 
“Am I?” you smiled,letting your hands travel to his neck and your nails scratch the back of it. You leaned your whole body against his own and brushed your lips on his.
“You’re a dangerous woman, (y/n)(y/l/n).” he smiled, kissing you once. “You’re going to make me fall in love with you.” kissing you twice. “And I don’t think I could recover from that.” kissing you one more time.
“I’m willing to try this if you are.”
He looked up at the danger in front and in a heartbeat, he said. “100%”.
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