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for-gilded-cups-are-empty · 8 months

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Katalepsis after live-read thoughts collection

So, now that im caught up about in time for book 1 to end, i am just regurgitating half-thoughts ive had along the ride, doing some retrospection and working my way through all the stuff i still want to draw.

I think thats one of the big things i really noticed and appreciated about katalepsis. Theres just drawability to it. I havent decided yet if its Hungrys writing style in general, the genre, or most likely, a characteristic of Heathers that got me to figure out i can use my laptop as a drawing tablet. Heather in her internal monologue just has a real appreciation for spaces.

A space is rarely a backdrop to do a scene in, the places and buildings and dimensions are characters to heather in a way that just makest a lot of sense for someone who grew up seeing the personified spirits of the everyday world as well as the varied wilds of Outside.

When the Stairwell trap is sprung, theres a very real feeling of betrayal, the willow house has forsaken raine and heather, who previously thought it a sanctuary.

We later learn that the space was bound, artificial, forced to act against its inhabitants in a way a house usually would not, which fits some themes that come up waaaaayy later.

I originally thought this would just be a quirk of heathers, some flavor to her thought processes, but it really did get picked up as an actual story beat, not just an aesthetic, with the soul of edward lilburnes house.

The Outside places are a bit more metaphorical about this, but strangely more clearly alive as well. The Library is an extension of the catalogue, wonderland is dominated by the eye. Ooran Juhs Projected space is his own physical gullet. Carcosa is the stage of a living play. The very first outside space we get to properly see is on the back of some giant creature, hairs and all.

Theres just Personality to every place that keeps them all so very, very vivid.

Ive been planning to draw wonderland ever since the mirror incident at the very beginning of the story, and in a very funny way, as ive drawn other stuff along the way ive been training for wonderland and the eye along with the cast. I really want to do it justice.

Staying on said cast for a bit, ive already talked about raine for a good bit, but theyre all amazing. I was always happy to see that an arc or a few chapters would become a cast members designated backstory time, because i really do want to know more about them and how they work as people. After about the middle point of the story though, those moments and how they connected became pretty hard for me to keep track off

For a reader who was along for the ride since the start, having to wait between chapters as they come out, the pacing probably works way better than it did for me.

I found myself really wishing for more time with the spookycule in each stage of development it had. Early katalepsis with just raine evee and heather is probably where it was the closest to ideal for me, in terms of just vibes i enjoy and things to keep track of.

I dont want to be too analytical, im bad at that, but for example we only see the fractal used to banish a sharrowford cult servitor once.

There could have been way more time spent in the twilight of magic, the street level zone, where every accidental slip outside is a moment of grand terror, and heather learns to live with the idea that the spirits are real.

For someone who gets called “Shaman” a lot later on, we only really see her asking a spirit for directions once (the wrecking ball hands gorilla), where i was expecting that to become a very integral bit of her kit as a character. I love the cephalopod changeling we got instead, but i do feel there could have been a heather who learned to work with her non brain pain vomit inducing abilities for practical reasons, at least for a little while.

After that comes the Messenger demon and maisies message. Knowing the rest of the story, i love that the primary motivation set up here has jack and shit to do with Ed or Alex. This isnt a story about killing the bad guy, its in a very serious way a story about love and that is what should motivate the characters.

Ed and Alex really are just invaders to the story, who grasp at threads that should not concern them at all, with their meddling eventually causing the collapse of Alexs portion of the cult under the Eyes gaze.

I dont quite know how much actual space is in between Kimberly and Zheng joining the household, but this is really the part of the story where just a lot happened at once. We get both badger and sarika, the entire abyss transformation and zheng so very close together.

During the time of the dead hands there is actually some breathing room though. Mostly because set dead hands keep us consigned to a breathable atmosphere for a bit.

The other big stretch of story that i wish lasted longer is the post proposal journey with sevens and saldis through carcosa. Given how time works outside, that whole stretch of time could have really stretched for a while without threatening the maisie limit, and i do wish that some of sevens later character development had happened in here, since i didnt quite know what to think of her after they left the palace, whereas right now in the end she is one of my favourites. I still dont know what i think of the king in yellow being in this story at all, but thats a me issue.

Yeah, so given that most of the smaller thoughts ive already posted in the liveread chat, i guess ive now covered my two big thoughts. I love how katalepsis treats spaces, and the only thing i had any problems with was the pacing, which tbh might just be because i didnt take my time when reading at all.

Time for even less structured thoughts now, just a rapid fire of things that come to mind after reading:

I hope we eventually get a perspective on the worlds cosmology from a mage fully unconnected to the vaguely interconnected british underworld of mages, im very curious how deeply different interpretations of outside, the abyss, demons and beyonders a person might have if they never interacted with the humunculus wars environment. The abyss beeing wet and aquatic seemed to be a general truth, to edward, zheng and even lozzie, until we met taika for example. I want to see more of that.

I said earlier that sevens has become one of my favourites, which is kinda stupid since most characters are my favourite at something by some measure, but Raine and Evee are still the two that are the most meaningful or connected to me. Ive already gone into maybe too much detail on how Raine just works in a way that ive never seen portrayed in anything for some reason. What i havent really realized until about now is how similar evees struggle is. There is that same need to feel useful. They both define their fundamental self via a skill that is in some way repulsive to them for whatever reason, and must cling to another to point them in a direction where they feel they can use it to do good. Evee has to feel useful, has to justify her presence and her dangerous knowledge to herself to some degree, and helping heather is how she does it for now.

The fundamental difference i think is that Raine chose to define herself that way, as knight errant, as supporter, while evee feels any other option to act on the world was taken from her by her mother. This mostly takes the form of her physical disability often stopping her from acting in time, reaching places, but also stopping her anorgasmia seemingly stopping her from loving in the way she thinks is correct (at that point of the story at least. Both of those are changing of course, mostly thanks to Praem).

It kind of lines up with Kimberly in a funky way, since she essentially decided not to use sorcery to justify her presence, both in the house and the story, but still remained around and appreciated, as a sort of in universe counterpoint to evees negative view of herself.

Thats all i can think of for now, i dont actually now how to end this, this isnt a sotry analysis, i have no conclusion except that im glad i caught up so close to the end, because im excited to see all of us react to whatever crazy shit is going down live!

#katalepsis

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chuuyascumsock · 2 months

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hi pookie <33 sorry its been yearsss, lifes been a bit of bitch but im just going to be bitchier 😎

how are you doing? and also i love that you re-watched my little pony, that show RAISED me, I CRIED over Princess Celestia and Luna's reunion and the hundreds of other arcs that it had

I HATE THE NEW ONE ITS SO SODUHVODSHUCO 😔☹️

The old MLP is in my heart forever ❤️ (can you tell i was a horse girl 💀)

BUT OMG THAT BLANKET YOU MADE W LIZZY IS SO CUTE????? its so sweet 🥰🥰

i miss you and tumblr moots :(

and ive been TRYING to deal w my writing burnout 'cause i have an idea for a fic that ive been trying to write but words just aren't wording !!!!

and not to mention its been so unbearably hot where i live its actually horrific, i cant sleep at all because of the heat T-T

but on a lighter note ive been hanging out w some of my friends after we all got back from our respective trips and we're planning a little roadtrip later this month !!!!

and

i got snorb a sibling

this is my second baby 😋 im a proud dino mother here !!!

(this is a cry for help)

stay sexy 😘😘❤️💐

Hiiiii Pookie, I’m glad you sent an ask, I was getting worried about you snookums 🥺

I started watching MLP when I was like 10 because my baby brothers wanted to watch it and I liked it but after that I hadn’t seen it in years so I thought I’d get back into it. I was especially into the mlp creepypasta stuff (it was like the first official fandom I got into when I was 8 and it lasted until I was like 14 and I got a new hyperfixation which was Assassination Classroom, let me tell you— being in the Fnaf, Minecraft, Undertale, and Eddsworld fandoms in that time frame as well was wild. The fanfics and crossovers were embarrassing, y’all.)

Also, horse girl? I had to be one in middle and high school cause my mom made me take riding lessons and at least one competition lol. While I didn’t like it because I nearly broke my hip doing so, I’m still salty they sold the horse I mainly rode for two years and the new owner was a bitch and wouldn’t even let me walk past his stall because she was so possessive. Genuinely was only there to make friends with the horses, I still miss you, Cinnabar :[

And yessss, I love the blanket I made with Libby cause it’s so soft and warm which is great cause my hands and feet are naturally cold like a corpse.

I also get the burnout, I wanna write so bad and I have so many ideas but I just can’t write. I want to finish my second Chuuya hurt/comfort fic and Dazai hurt/comfort fic cause they’re almost done (my Chuuya one is 4k+ words long and the Dazai one is being a bitch and deleted half of my progress). But it’s okay because I named them appropriately so look out for fics called “I said break it down, not have a break down” and “This homeless man won’t leave so I’m spraying him down with dirty brown water” (I think you can guess which is which). So yeah :]

THE HEAT IS KILLING ME HERE TOO, IT’S SO FUCKING HOT AND HUMID AND MY GLASSES GET ALL FOGGY WHEN I LEAVE MY HOUSE FOR WORK I HATE IT 😭

Hurray for hanging out with friends!! I watched the new Deadpool and Wolverine movie with my friends this passing week and my god, Hugh Jackman is the straightest man crush I’ve ever had, he is so fine. I rarely like irl men in general (only do so with celebrities bc irl girls is where it’s at, dating boys is gross) so when I do, yk he’s got IT. God, I’d shred cheese on those abs of his.

And you got Snorb a sibling‼️ Name ‘em Sneeb, Sneeb and Snorb <3

#casual ask

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throughtrialbyfire · 2 months

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A (Cycle of the Serpent), G, K, and Q for the ask meme!

hi lex!!!!!!!!!! <33

A: How did you come up with the title to Cycle of the Serpent?

its part of this song, specifically this section:

Oh ouroboros The cycle of the serpent Look close It's something like a spring Pull out It looks like it's a helix Push in And wear it like a ring

it's always read to me as a contemplation on fate, on repetition and on bad habits/past traumas which never quite end. actually, i'll paste something from discord to do some of the explaining in how it relates to the fic CotS, since i think i typed up a similar question response recently!!

essentially, alchemical imagery and cycles that persist, in spite of what may be wanted. and observing those cycles from an outside view, looking close to see the details, pulling it out to see its shape, and wearing it on your hand as an acceptance. or thats my reading of it specifically applied to the fic, anyways. and the title is "pillar of Na", which can be taken as a "pillar of null/nothingness", or "pillar of salt", something which crumbles away.

also the different verses, ive tied back to them. the first/opening verse is emeros, the middle "shall i lay awake" is athenath, and "call in 'i will always love you' to the radio" is ironically wyndrelis, but any time "love" comes up for him, its a love for his friends, for his work, and for the family members he used to be close with who are now gone and to tie back to the song, i always see the "turn all eternal" part at the end as being the aedra, daedra, the people whose lives they've touched, a sort of thing saying they're not the only ones stuck in cycles. and of course the part before it is just the trio, hgjkdhfgjk. yes i grew up on amvs and songfics how can you tell-

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

a mix of both! right now, i've been trying to write CotS in chronological order, but i do have scattered scenes that i've pre-written and am building up to, plus planned concepts for things to happen later!

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

i've got dozens lol, but one of them takes place several years after CotS, where athenath gets poisoned and only has enough strength left to collapse at emeros' door. athenath nearly dies, and emeros wrote for wyndrelis to come soon bc he didnt know if he could cure whatever poison it was in time. :3

Q: How do you feel about collaborations?

i like them! i havent done any in a while - mostly bc i'm very focused on my own ideas rn - but i've done collab fics in the past and greatly enjoyed it!!

thank you so much for the asks!!!!! <333333333

fanfic asks

#bishop.txt #asks #ask game #cycle of the serpent

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elephant-in-the-pride-parade · 10 months

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12 and 14 please!

From the Unpublished Fic Asks? Sure! Lemme see..

12. How far have you planned ahead?

Usually this depends on how long the fic feels.

Feels like <20K I dont plan. I just start from whatever scene got me hooked and i spin the idea forward or back from there.

Feels like >20K. I usually write whatever scene got me hooked and then figure out the basic premise of every chapter. what are the major plot points i need to build out. I dont start writing anything else until I at least have all the tentative chapter titles and 1 big thing that will happen in them. Anything in the middle is usually pretty flexible but i need to know the ending or else i cant really get far.

Now where I get into trouble is fics like Out of Reach or Unbroken.

Out of Reach (Chakotay gets amnesia) I never thought it would get as long as it did and I had built it up to be quite big without knowing which ending i wanted. im still debating what i want there and how the characters can achieve it.

Unbroken (Basics rewrite) god i thought i had this one but the ending wound up being too vague. so that i had a hard time grasping the full shape of the story. and that's made writing the middle very complicated. i need the ending to make sense, have the gravity and impact that it needs to but that means the middle has to go just right. exploring that has been fun but definitely dont want to share more yet because i keep tweaking things.

14. Is there any unwritten/unpublished fics you planned on doing, but now you're feeling like you're gonna scrap those ideas?

Ive scrapped a lot recently...

mirrorverse-esque J/C. struggled with the characterization.

Pirates of the Caribbean AU J/C - it started as a killing game scenario but i really am not enthused by watching them lose. Then i thought it could be an interesting historical AU but the amount of research to give it the authenticity it deserves is more than I have time for. I think I'd still like to do it to see KJ Elizabeth Swanning all over the place. but maybe create it as its own unique holodeck adventure instead.

It's hard for me to say im truly scrapping any though because usually i canabalize the scrap heap and the ideas will wind up useful to some other fic. That was the case for my first Voyager fanfic. I envisioned Maquis Heart as a 3 part YOH alternate ending but while working on part 3 i realized i'd rather have it be the kick off for a longer story about what it was like reconnecting with Earth in Season 4. So i shelved that for later.

#that writing life #elephantwrites #fic asks #fanfiction #ask game #ask me anything #thank u for the ask!

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illuminiscentboba · 2 months

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Behind the scenes <3

hi guyssss!!! tysm nohr for the tag !!! <3333 this is my behind the scenes expernece as illumminiscentboba !! prepare yourselves bc this is gon be personal~~~

Started writing: I've been writing on and off since middle school, and have been posting works since that time on quotev <3 i actually still use quotev to this day and im so thankful that it was a safe space to write fiction, fanfiction and participate in random writing challenges :)

Started blogging: I starting blogging here around 5 years ago, using this acc to just bingeread fics and repost art! i didnt originally plan on writing on here until I read a few HQ fics and ichiruki fics from bleach on fanfiction.net that had me like..,,in awe, I wanted to replicate that awe and here I am.

Followers: i've been around 179/180 when I was more active around 4-3 years ago but have been on hiatus up until this month so now im at 113 LMAOODSBHDSBJ HELPPPPP followers did mean a bunch to me in the earlier years but now i'm just happy i enjoy my own work

Communication: ahahaa,,,about this,,,as of late I have been going nonverbal more often and just been a lot less social. The later is for no reason beyond not wanting to give anyone the illusion that I am very active here esp bc I havent been publishing work for such a long time. but now that I've mentioned it here and once I get my tags reorganized, I'll reblog a lot more...prepare to be sick of me.

Likes: I actually was surprised about how much more interest people had in headcannons than fics or blurbs but that aside I don't really have an opinion on likes but to those who do leave likes on my work, I appreciate it a bunch :)) likes used to help me define how much people enjoyed my writing style/the characters which is sooooo wrong and quite a damaging mindset to have. I don't share this sentiment nearly as much as I did in middle school thankfully but it does suck when I feel like i'm the only one that enjoyed smth i cooked

Requests: for a long time I got such little request, my inbox deadass had tumbleweeds skipping past everytime I opened it but then around the time I was beginning to feel burnt out here...i actually got a bunch...(i hate it here) a lot of the requests are so cute and sweet, I'll fulfil them in my own time and space :) but i appreciate them soooooo much i love silly billies in my requests

Writing: the hate love relationship I have with writing...i have quite a lot of ideas but putting them into works is....something else HELO doesn't help that I've got ADHD and keep getting ahead of myself when writing...but yeah I have been writing things as of late that Ive been enjoying and playing around with diff au concepts (which im quite excited for) that aside, one of the ultimate contributers to my hiatus was the change in environment and in myself a few years ago. Many of my friends happen to be ace and a lot of my other friends at that point in time had aversions to affection? strongly disliked verbal affection, physical affection, you could name it and they were not about it. It did actually effect my behavior in a sense where to this day I instinctively hold back on hugging hand holding, arm linking etc. and it feels so weird now bc some of my friends now are the opposite LMAO its very jarring, the sudden change and realizing that to make my writing flow better I would put myself in the situations and id do the same with dialogue which made writing for characters i didn't feel much for harder to digest, and constantly writing romance prompts also made things hard for me because it felt quite repetitive and made me lose touch with what writing was for me which was like the final straw for me at the time. Some things have changed since then, especially my life cirumstances and preferences. you guys can request as you like but I hope that there is understanding if i'm unable to fulfil the requests, some of many of my works that are romance may have other genres with it like thriller, mystery, fantasy or villainess concepts, and/or historical time period fics. and since my program is keeping me busy asl I wont be able to update as much as I hope but i'll likely be more active now that there are some things cleared up :))

once again, tysm nohr for the tag and this oppurtinity to rebrand and I'd love to see @cloudyevaa @cup-of-fluff @kaeyazuha @sexyandcringe @anyone else who see's this to do it :)) I actually deviated a bit from the normal format so here is @alienaiver 's who ate it up :))

#lumi’s laments ✨#lumi’s rbs ✨#important to me #important ✨#tag game ✨

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malicious-fisheeves · 2 years

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The sinking feeling that everyone hated the past 2 chapters is really sapping my desire to continue writing virjfjjgjfjdjdjffkdahhhhhh

#fishes rambles #ill get back to it eventually but. ah.#i am fine but its sorta one of those things where for me fanfic is a way to interact with fandom #i can have my funny little thoughts and theories in my own head and entertain myself #but that means a lack of feedback means i lose motivation to actually write out my funny ideas #this is not helped by the fact i am Exhausted and ran into a brick wall #where i have ideas planned for later but ive got to write like the middle bit now.

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hopelesshunny · 3 years

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the love languages part ii: physical touch (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred has always felt the need to touch y/n and after a drunken night he realizes he can't sleep without her.

warnings: very, very light profanity, drinking/underage drinking, kissing, bed sharing.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: my second instalment is here - i did in fact say i would wait until monday but i was really excited to write this one!! i am so grateful for all the love i have received on this series so far, i cannot thank you guys enough. i still feel like i have a ways to go in improving my writing - but as always my ask is open if you have comments, questions, concerns, luv or just wanna chat:)

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part i // part iii // part iv

For as long as Y/N had known Fred he had always been touchy. Fred’s need to constantly touch her was never unwelcomed, she relished in the way he’d wrap an arm around her shoulders when he’d walk her to class or how he’d lean into her when he laughed uncontrollably. However, she had always assumed that he was like this with everyone he was friends with, that he just needed to touch people in some way in order to feel close to them. This was very true but Y/N never knew that it was her touch that he craved the most, that as soon as he saw her, he longed to feel the soft skin of her cheek, the way her shoulders shook when she laughed or the rise and fall of her chest while he laid on her stomach in the common room, gentle sighs leaving her mouth every so often.

Fred couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times he almost told Y/N his feelings for her, the words sat on his tongue so often that he was starting to believe that they felt more comfortable in his mouth which is why they never launched themselves into the air. He didn’t know why he couldn’t force the confession out, there was always just a cloud of doubt and fear that swarmed his mind whenever the thought presented itself. But alas, here he was sitting across from her watching her flip her hair over her shoulder and let out a light laugh as she found whatever George was saying quite amusing.

“Y/N! You have to come, you literally can’t miss a party like this!” George practically shouted, a shocked look on his face.

“I’m so behind on my studies.” Y/N started, resting her chin on her hands. “I’ll be practically chained to the library all weekend as is, I can’t go to a party.”

“Y-You’re not coming tonight?” Fred questioned, his eyes hopeful as if he had heard the conversation wrong.

“Sorry Freddie.” She pouted. “You can tell me all about it at breakfast tomorrow.” At that Fred reached across the table to run his finger across her knuckles, relishing in the way her skin felt under his calloused fingertip, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how they would feel against his lips. However, he was pulled out of his daydream by the sound of George making gagging noises to the side of him as Y/N giggled.

“In that case I’ll have to drink a little extra.” He threw a wink her way. “To make sure I don’t bore you back to sleep tomorrow morning.”

“You never bore me, Trouble.” She smiled before saying her goodbyes to the rest of the table and making her way to the library. The nickname brought a gentle smile to his face, it was the first thing she’d ever called him. During her first year Y/N had been studying in the common room when the twins busteled in, laughing and hollering about another successful prank. When she asked what they were so excited about, the two boys were more than happy to explain, Fred wildly acting out the look on Snape’s face before George asked her name and introduced himself in response. Before Fred even had the chance to open his mouth to follow suit she stopped him.

“You sound like trouble, that’s what I’ll call you.”

George laughed at his twins new-found nickname but it made Fred’s heart swell - the fact that she had specifically given him a special name, the smile on her face when she said it and the way she never left their side since that day, produced a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Now, here he was, years later, with the same girl, same nickname, same smile and the same butterflies.

Fred kept his promise to Y/N, he was drunk, very, very drunk. He stumbled through the Gryffindor common room, his feet feeling like they were trying to carry him off in different directions until he finally found an armchair to ground himself with. Plopping himself down into the chair he looked out into the crowd of people, some laughing others whispering, couples hanging off each other, it made him miss Y/N. If she was here she’d be sitting next to him, his arm slung around her shoulder as she giggled over the way he slurred his words and she’d always made sure he got to bed safely before finding her way to her own room. Fred groaned as George sat in the chair across from him, pushing a glass of water towards him, causing his twin to chuckle at his annoyed state.

“At least you��ll have something funny to tell Y/N in the morning.” He laughed. “Tell her all about how your drunk ass could barely walk straight.” Fred leaned his head back on his neck.

“I should go see her.” He spoke quietly, just loud enough to convince himself of the idea but hopefully not loud enough for George to hear. He knew that his drunken state failed him however, when his brother quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And do what? Spill your guts?” George chuckled. “Either by finally telling her you’re bloody in love with her or literally?” This earned another groan from Fred as he shot daggers at him.

“That’s it.” Fred started, chugging the glass of water that was placed in front of him. “I’m going.”

“Best of luck mate.” George spoke as he watched Fred stumble his way through the crowd.

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked, suddenly appearing by his brother's side.

“On a death mission.” George responded.

Fred let out a sigh of relief when he finally made his way out of the common room and began the trek towards her dorm room. But his mind was running rampant, what if George was right? What if he was just better off going to bed? Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him, she was probably tired from studying all night and the last thing she wanted was him keeping her up. But despite his doubts his feet still carried him towards her, the walk was sobering, which he would need if he planned on getting a coherent sentence out when he finally made his way to her.

“Y/N?” He called softly when he opened her room door, trying his very best to keep quiet to not wake her roommates. He recognized her frame immediately, bundled under bed sheets, her hair messy and lips slightly parted. He stood over her, watching the way her chest rose and fell as soft breathes left her mouth. “Y/N.” He spoke again, shoving his hands in his pockets, fearing her reaction to his sudden visit. Her eyes shot open but when they found his, her face softened, a small smile forming.

“You scared me, Trouble.” She laughed lightly. “Are you okay?” She asked, the concern that laced her voice made him have to restrain from kissing every square inch of her face.

“I’m okay, just a little drunk.” He hiccuped, his response earning a bright smile from her as she scooted to the side and patted the bed, signially for him to sit next to her. He graciously accepted her offer, his hand immediately finding her knee, needing to touch her. She leaned into his touch as he slurred on about how Ron tried to flirt with Hermione but failed miserably and how red Harry turned when George dared him to kiss Ginny. Neither of them could remember falling asleep, they were too caught up in each other's whispered stories and soft giggles.

When Fred woke the next morning, his head pounding, his legs feeling as if they had carried him across the entire country, he looked down to find his best friend fast asleep on his chest. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around his middle with his hand tangled in her hair as she shifted slightly on top of him. He felt like he should panic and apologize for last night’s antics but she looked so peaceful and he was so close to her that he couldn’t bring himself to worry about barging into her room at who knows what time.

“Mornin’ Trouble.” She spoke, her voice groggy and flooded with sleep. “How are you feeling?” She asked genuinely, pulling herself from his embrace to stretch her arms above her head, making him curse himself for ever moving and waking her.

“I’ve been much better.” He groaned, sliding his hands down his face. “Guess I don’t have to fill you in on last night's events at breakfast anymore.”

“No, you did a sufficient job of that last night.” She giggled. “But we can still go to breakfast, you need to eat something.” Y/N pulled him out of her bed, still fully clothed in what he was wearing the night before.

He grumbled his way through breakfast as George and Ron cracked jokes about how drunk and lovesick he was, Fred throwing warning looks their way as Y/N laughed seeming unbothered by the way they were pulling her into they’re jokes, taking it all as a way to poke fun at Fred. But his head was still swimming, the feeling of her weight on top of him and her hands pressed against his chest, all he wanted was to be back in that position again. He couldn’t get it out of his head for the rest of the day and no matter how many times he attempted to distract himself from her that night as he lied in bed his mind kept travelling back to Y/N. He lay awake staring at the ceiling thinking about how empty his arms felt without her in them - she was addicting, he had always known that, since the moment he met her he had not been able to pull himself away from her. But now he was in too deep, he needed to be there with her.

So, here he was, in his pyjamas, on his way to her dorm room once again, all shame and guilt left long behind, just needing to be near her. Fred padded into her room, his hands rooted in his pockets once again, fully expecting to have to wake her just as he did the night before. But she was wide awake, sitting on her bed, a novel clasped in her fingers, a smile forming on her face when he came into her line of vision.

“Did you miss me?” She teased, as he ran a hand through his hair, rocking on his heels.

“Can’t sleep.” He mumbled. “Was wondering if you were still up.” He said, offering her a grin.

“Well then Trouble, you’re in luck.” She smirked, moving to allow space for him to lie next to her. Fred laid his head in her lap as she turned her attention back to the book in her hand while the other snaked its way into his hair. All the trouble sleeping that had been previously plaguing him melted away with her nails lightly scratching his scalp.

Over the course of the next week Fred and Y/N fell into this routine, he would lay away in his bed before eventually giving into the knowledge that he could not sleep without her any longer before he would make his way to her room, crawl into bed beside her and fall into the soundest sleep that has ever graced him. In the beginning, he was apprehensive, worried that she would reject him at some point and tell him that she wanted to sleep alone. But she never did, every night she shot him a warm smile and opened her arms to him. As the week went on his worries morphed themselves into something new however, he was no longer concerned about her rejecting his company but that she would instead reject his feelings for her. That she would eventually realize that he was in love with her and tell him that she never felt that way about him and was just trying to be a good friend.

“I don’t think I can sleep without you anymore.” Fred spoke into the darkness of the room, his voice audibly shaking, the silence that filled the space causing his stomach to turn.

“Mhmm.” Y/N started, tightening her grasp on him. “I can’t complain, you’re a great pillow.” He let out a light laugh, rubbing small circles in her back.

“It’s true.” He spoke, more seriously. “I haven’t been able to sleep at all lately, but as soon as I get into your bed, I’m out.” She sighed. “They must have better beds in the girls dorms.” He added, which earned a giggle from her.

“I don’t know about the quality of the beds, maybe it’s who's in it.” She spoke, her voice quiet as she bit her lip now regretting her sudden burst of confidence. Fred was silent for a moment before he spoke, a deep breath filling his lungs before he had the nerve to confess to her.

“I always thought that the reason I always had to touch you was because I liked to feel close to people. But it’s different with you.” He shifted to look at her. “I need to touch you, need to feel your skin. Fuck Y/N, I just want to hold your hand in front of everybody and kiss you in between classes and fall asleep next to you every night.” He searched her face looking for any sense of emotion but all he could find was her typical soft smile. “It’s just that I-I-” He started.

“I love you too Fred.” She cut him off, placing her palm against his cheek, he turned into her touch despite the shock that was lacing his features.

“You what?” He said, a giggle falling from her mouth as she clasped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to save him some pride.

“The first night you came to my room, after you left the party, you kept saying you loved me in your sleep.” He groaned at her confession. “I was worried it was just drunk babbles but-”

“But I do love you.” He finished. “I’ve loved you for years.”

“I love you too, Trouble.” She giggled, placing a long awaited kiss to his lips.

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds @fandomhideout @lilypad-55449 @youngblood199456 @thanxxskz

#fred #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley series #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fluff #hp fic #hp

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phlox238 · 3 years

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i wrote a pretty long rymin fic and half of it is min being anxious and getting advice from a lesbian at a gay bar,,, it sucks but here it is anyway

2.5k words this is the most ive ever written

"So," The girl began, gesturing wildly with her hands. "You think you're in love with your best friend, who you've known since you were born, and you're in a band and traveling across Canada and the USA with. What did you say your name is?"

"Oh, fuck." Min-gi sighed, letting his head rest in his hands. "This is weird, isn't it? I barely know you."

"Nah, I just thought that, if we're going to have a slightly drunk chat in the back of a gay bar, then we should know each other's names. I'm Eryn, and you?" Eryn stuck out her hand, the many bracelets she wore on her wrist clanking together.

Min chuckled a little, then took her hand and shook it. Her dark skin was warm, which was surprising, since this part of the bar was near freezing. "Min-gi. But you can call me Min."

"Awesome. So, tell me about it, Min." Eryn tightened her ponytail, leaning forward on her arms.

"Tell you what about it? There's so many things that I could say." He was so caught up in this gay crisis stuff that he hadn't even considered stopping for a moment to really think about it.

Eryn shrugged. "Whatever you want to say. Get stuff off your chest, just let it out, if you want to. There's like, nobody else back here. Doesn't really matter, right? I'm not judgy."

"Okay...well, he has a girlfriend, first of all; has had many of them. So he's not into dudes." Min crossed his arms.

"Hey, he could still be. Just because he dates women doesn't mean he's straight. Could still be into guys. Don't give up hope just yet, okay?" Eryn laced her fingers together, as if she was planning something. The dark lighting of the bar didn't help anything.

“Damn,” Min rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t know you could like both.”

Not without laughing at him first, Eryn started to explain. "Oh, wow, you really are new to this, huh?" She chuckled a little more, shaking her head. “That’s okay. There’s a lot of different ways to love people, you just gotta figure out what works for you. Oh, also; it isn’t just both. There’s the genderqueer people, too, don’t forget about them!” She smiled.

Min didn’t quite know what genderqueer meant, but he figured he could find out later. He was asking too many questions already. "Damn...how do you know all of this? I only realized I was, er, gay, like six months ago." Min marveled at her, the same way a nerd at school would marvel at the 'cool kids.' And honestly, she really looked like one, with her ponytail and undercut, her yellow, patched leather jacket, even the flashy jewelry she wore.

It made Min want to start dressing differently. Dressing cooler, like Ryan, like Eryn. Maybe he could.

Eryn grinned wider. "Oh, you know. It's just things you pick up along the way. I've known that I'm lesbian for a long time, since I was like 11. And I'm 21 now, so that's a long time. Lots of experience." She shuffled a little in her seat, taking another drink of beer. "Anyway. We're getting off track, aren't we? Keep talking, man."

Min laughed, a real laugh. "Okay, okay. A year ago, we, er…" He reached desperately for an explanation for the train, but decided that, just maybe, he could tell her. Really, the worst that she could think of him is that he's a drug user. "Can I tell you something? It's going to sound absolutely insane, probably, but I just. Need to tell someone."

She looked concerned, her dark brown eyes wide, but nodded anyway. "That's real ominous. But sure, go for it."

"Okay. So. Stick with me, here. A year ago, him and I got on a train, right? But then, there was another train door within the train. We just...went into the door. Well, the bastard threw my keys into it and then ran in, so how could I not follow?" Eryn was looking at him intently like she understood. Min could tell he was pretty drunk by now; he'd never be able to open up to someone this much sober. But that's okay. More than okay, really.

"It gets even weirder from then on. Ryan- that's his name, by the way- and I woke up on a giant, infinie train in the middle of nowhere. Gotta be pretty unbelievable, though. You probably think I'm on drugs." Min sighed.

Eryn was silent for a moment, but it was obvious she was getting ready to explode. "Dude, no fucking way!" Yep, there it was. "I got on that train! When I was eleven. I was super conflicted on my sexuality, had a shit ton of internalized homophobia as a result of having homophobic family. I felt like a disgusting person. So I got on the train, and it actually helped me through it." She'd completely lit up when Min mentioned the train. Looked like she was going to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

For a moment, Min was speechless. Soon, though, he regained his voice. "You're kidding," was all he could muster.

"Nope." Eryn's grin nearly reached her ears. "Did you have someone to help you along, too? There was a white cat named Samantha for me. She was French, for some reason. But I miss her."

"Oh! Yeah, Ryan and I had a floating, talking bell named Kez. Weird, right?. I miss her, too. Wonder how she's doing." Min thought for a second, completely and utterly relieved to have met someone else to share an experience with. Then something clicked. "Hold on...I might have met this cat you speak of. Yellow eyes? Uh, blonde...hair?"

"Blonde hair? Well, she didn't have that. But yeah, yellow eyes, French accent." Eryn nodded. They were silent for a moment.

Min chuckled, suddenly getting the urge to continue on with their story. Telling someone about the train would feel wonderful. "We had a lot of...issues...regarding our friendship, at the time. That's why the train picked us up in the first place." He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "The train did help us. But we had a lot of weirdly intimate moments on it, and that's where my sexuality crisis started. Like, there was a car where we had to perform a song with each other to get out of it, and of course I got stage fright right before it. I left him alone on stage. Again." Min paused, the guilt almost making him feel like he was living through that moment again.

Eryn nudged him. "And? That doesn't sound intimate. What happened next?"

"I hid in the bathroom. So he came in, and at first he was angry, but I was having a full on anxiety attack. We sat in the bathtub, hip to hip, knee to knee. It was weird, but nice. He helped me calm down. And like...in our last year of Highschool, I gave him a shirt with our band name on it. In that bath tub, he had it with him. He kept it. Said he'd never done a show without it." Min laughed, but there wasn't much humor about it. "Man, I wanted to kiss him so bad right then and there. But I didn't."

Eryn had a soft look in her eyes. "I dunno about you, but that sounds pretty damn gay to me. Maybe he's just dating other people to distract himself from his crush on you, who knows! All I'm trying to say is, don't give up on this, Min. You two have something going on, I don't know what, but it could blossom into a relationship." She patted him on the shoulder, then took another drink of her beer.

Min did the same. "What if he's not gay?" His voice was small. "Worse, what if he's homophobic? I don't know...fuck, it's terrifying. I could lose him because I'm gay."

"Well," Eryn paused for a moment, "you could try and subtly bring it into conversation. Maybe, like, bring up a celebrity who's gay. See his reaction." She gestured with her hands a lot, Min noticed.

Min nodded. It seemed simple in theory, but he knew he'd manage to fuck it up somehow. The logical part of his brain knew Ryan wouldn't leave him for being gay, but at the same time, there was this voice in the back of his head. Irrational thoughts, irrational fears; that's all it spoke of.

"Thank you. Really. It's been nice to talk about this, especially with someone who's been on the train. That thing is...a freak of nature. Maybe not even nature, I don't know. I'll try that with him, too." Min said finally, after some silence. Eryn laughed.

"Yeah, it absolutely is." She smiled widely. Eryn glanced around, her eyes finally landing on the only visible clock in this part of the bar. Her eyes widened. "Shit, I should really get going! Sorry. I told my girlfriend I'd be back around now." She, out of nowhere, gave Min a hug. It'd been a while since he'd hugged anyone, he realized, and it felt nice. Although, very unexpected.

Min hugged her back, sort of awkwardly. They separated soon after.

"That's okay. Again...thank you, so much. I should get young too." By now, it was almost 11 pm, and he figured he should leave as well. Ryan should be back at their apartment soon enough.

Min was about to turn and leave, but Eryn stopped him.

"Hey! How about we exchange phone numbers? This was a good chat, eh? I'd like to stay in contact." Eryn searched her pockets for a pen and some paper, but only found a marker. "Can I, like, write it on your arm and you can do the same?"

Min knew Ryan would tease him over it, but oh, well, he made a new friend. "Yeah, that's fine." He laughed, offering her his arm. She quickly scribbled her number on it, and honestly, it was barely legible. But he could read it, somewhat.

He then wrote his number on her arm, they exchanged goodbyes, and were on their way. Min dreaded returning to Ryan, who would definitely start to go on and on about his girlfriend, and just prove to make Min feel worse about his stupid crush.

But maybe, just maybe, Eryn was right. Maybe things would finally go his way for once.

•••

Min's walk home was quiet (as quiet as New York can be at night) and cold, it being the middle of November. Snow was just beginning to fall. Being outside Eryn's words stuck in his head like glue. Talk to him. As if he could do that. The idea of even just mentioning anything close to being gay made anxiety rise in his throat like bile.

He couldn't. Probably.

Before he could think much more on it, he was home. Home. Back to the decent one bedroom apartment they'd scraped up all of the money in their pockets to buy. Back to the scent of cigarette smoke in the air, back to the strange stains on the carpet in the hallway. Most importantly, back to Ryan. No matter how much resentment Min-gi might hold to him for having a girlfriend, Ryan usually made things better.

He walked up the stairs and down the hall to apartment number 202, ironically. Unlocked and opened the door to find it dark inside save for a single lamp. Min walked in, curious, just to find Ryan curled up in the fetal position on the sofa. That really made him anxious.

"Hey...Ryan? You good, man?" Min sat on the empty portion of the sofa, near his head.

Ryan stirred, rolling over onto his back. His head was resting a bit on Min's thigh, and it felt kind of nice.

"I dunno…" He mumbled. "She broke up with me."

"What?" Min looked down at Ryan, surprised. "Lisa? You're kidding."

"Nope, not kidding." Ryan laced his fingers together over his stomach. "The thing is...I'm like, kind of relieved that she did it? How fucked up is that?"

Min tilted his head in confusion. He really wanted to run his hand through Ryan's hair, but that was a really inappropriate thought for the moment.

"She, uh...said some things. When she broke up with me." He sighed. "Called me a fag." Ryan laughed, like he found it funny. Min didn't.

"Dude, what? Why?" Min's voice was a little shaky, for no other reason than that they were talking about gay people.

Ryan sighed. "Take a good look at us, Min." He brought his forearm up to cover his eyes. "We're two dudes, living in a one bedroom apartment together. We do everything together. Of course she's gonna think there's something going on."

Min felt like he was going to fucking disintegrate. "U-Uh...and that's a bad thing?"

"I mean...no. It just kind of clicked that...maybe she's right. Maybe I am gay." Ryan sat up, his back facing towards Min. He didn't look back. " I always assumed that I'd be straight, but this...it makes sense. None of my relationships have ever worked out. With women."

Min reached out and gently touched his shoulder. "Ryan...it's okay."

Ryan looked back, now, and his eyes were watery. Min frowned.

“How could it be okay?” His voice cracked as he spoke. “It’s just another reason for people to hate me. For my parents to hate me. Hell, maybe even you.” By the time that he finished talking, his voice was almost inaudible.

"No!" Min almost shouted, jolting forward. "No. Ryan, I could never hate you." Fuck, how was he supposed to tell Ryan he's gay now? Part of him wanted to shout it out impulsively, but the other part, it just wanted to keep hiding. Because what if something goes wrong? What if Ryan's in love with someone else? All what ifs. He really needed to stop.

Min inhaled deeply. Here goes. "This is gonna sound really coincidental, but...I'm gay too."

Quickly, Ryan turned around to face Min. His eyes were wide behind his glasses.

"What? No fucking way. You're kidding." Ryan was leaning forward, using his fists to prop him up.

Min shook his head. "No...I'm not. I was gonna tell you soon anyway, but now seemed like a good time." He scratched his head awkwardly.

Then, Ryan launched at him, hugging him. Arms wrapped around his neck, knees touching Min's thighs, the whole package. Min was sure he'd die with how flushed his face was; but thankfully, he didn't.

After what felt like a while, Ryan finally spoke.

"I love you." He mumbled into Min's shoulder.

Min paused. "In a gay way, or…?"

Ryan laughed. "Yeah, you idiot." He shook his head in amusement.

"Good. That's...great." He hugged Ryan tighter, finally letting himself run his fingers through his hair. It was soft, just like he expected. "I love you too."

#rymin #infinity train #infinity train book 4 #ryan akagi #min gi park #infinity train season 4

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sharkneto · 2 years

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hi! youre one of my favorite authors and i was hoping I could get some writing advice from you. i felt inspired by tua s3 and plotted out some ideas for a fic i would like to write (ive never written one before) and im stuck on how to start writing. how did you begin writing multichapter fics? is there any advice or tips you could share?

First of all, thank you! Very kind of you to say and I'm so glad you enjoy my fics so much! And how great you're inspired! Writing came out of left-field for me, to become a hobby, but it's been a great ride and I have a lot of fun doing it.

Advice, though... The main thing I'm going to say is a cliche, which is Just Do It. The hardest step is starting, when you're just staring at that blank page. Any words at all to start breaking that up. Throw 'em up there. They don't have to be good, you can make them good later. Especially if you haven't written before, you don't really know what you're looking for, what your flow is, what your style is, and you do not and should not know right when you start. That's what editing is for. Right now, your only goal is to be trying to turn whatever is in your head into words you can read, and then come back and tweak to shape more into that thing in your head. Just throw words on a page and see what sticks. That's all that writing really is, anyway.

Along with that, though, I think it's important to be writing For You. I won't say it isn't a lot of fun to post works, to get kudos and comments and reader interactions (because it IS, it is so much fun), but you are going to burn out if that's the only thing you're writing for. For me, my first... Four? Five? fics were just fun little for-me projects to fill time. Now, 3/5 of those have been shared (Joining Together, Holding It Together, and the first Christmas fic), but those all started as things that were never going to see the light of AO3 (the other two still aren't - they just aren't projects I'm interested in editing up or finishing to share, and that's ok). You are your target audience, though, so write what it is you want to read, what you enjoy, and then if you happen to share them, odds are there are people who would also enjoy them. If you aren't enjoying what you're writing then what's even the fucking point. And if you stop enjoying while in the middle of a long project, that's ok - step back, take a break and come back to it, poke at some other plot bunnies, and return when you're excited and ready for it again. And if you never come back to it, that's fine, too. No writing is ever wasted because you had fun doing it and you got practice and got better because of it.

Last, how did I get into multichapter fics... Ngl, my first for-me projects were all multichapter, mostly for convenience because they were slice-of-life moments and had POV changes (JT, HIT). But the first things I actually shared were one-shots. Crueler to Remember was my first actual multi-chapter fic, and that was more because it was a one-shot that ran away from me and I retroactively cut it into chapters. I mentioned it in another ask I answered earlier that I'm on mobile so I can't link (but check the #entertain shark on his train trip tag to find it) about how I cut up chapters, and for the most part I don't really think in terms of chapters when I'm planning out a longer fic. It's more of a Long One Shot until I get in and feel out where natural breaks feel, where the natural ebb and flow of the action and such is happening for when a good spot to cut is. I'm sure that's not true for all writers, and that people who actually outline probably do have chapter numbers and contents planned out, but I am not one of those people. Don't worry too much about if you're writing is too short or too long for how long you thought it was going to be - it will be exactly as long as it needs to be and the end word count does not matter.

Where this is all coming to, I think, is do what feels good. Read other people's things to see what you like/don't like, read writing tips and rules if you want for technical prowess, but at the end of the day, just do what sounds good to you, what feels good to you. You're the one who's going to be reading it a million times as you work on and edit it, so if it's not a thing you enjoy, not a thing that sounds good to you, why are you doing that to yourself. The first words you put on the page you do not have to be married to - as you keep writing, you can go back and edit them or throw them out to write different ones because you got a better idea four pages later on how to start that but anyway. It's all a big experiment and the only way to do it wrong is to not do it.

#maybe thats helpful? idk hope something in there is useful for you :)#most importantly is to have fun! enjoy the experience and i look forward to reading whatever you write!#ficblogging #entertain shark on his train trip #writing #side note: it is wild to me that i am a person to ask writing advice from #it didn't really click until recently to me that i am actually a writer and i have written A Lot and that does mean i have experience lol

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callmeelle22 · 3 years

Text

Blue Dream IX

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Allen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 6, 258

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Chapter IX: He Loves Me; Because she looks like a woman drowning in bliss, a woman draped in desire, the look of it hugging like a second skin. She looks like the way women might be described in romance novels, so satisfied she can’t think of anything other than being wrapped up in the man giving her the satisfaction. She looks like the woman in some fantasy or dream, ascending the clouds, spread out and open in an expanse of blue. She sings it in her head, you school me, give me things to think about; invite me, you ignite me, co-write me, you love me, you like me; incite me to chorus, at the same time that she sings out loud, “god, Bear, baby yes,” her eyes fluttering closed at only the very last minute. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter.)

He Loves Me

You love me especially different every time

You keep me on my feet happily excited

By your cologne, your hands, your smile, your intelligence

You woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me

You school me, give me some things to think about

Ignite me, you invite me, you co-write me, you love me, you like me

You incite me to chorus, ooh

She tells him she loves him on a Friday night.

A week later, and it's the first night in a long while that she doesn’t get to stay at home because Barry has asked if he can have her time tonight. He doesn’t give her any details, only tells her to come over to his place around 8 and to be prepared to stay over. He seems particularly animated, when he asks, and it makes Iris wonder why, if he’s got something planned or if it’s just that he’s happy he gets to spend the time with her, even if they’ve been around each other more than usual this week.

So, the entire day, she’s dizzy with excitement.

Her taping of Good Morning, Central City is mid-morning. The segment tapes live at 9:30, which gives her some time to down a cup of coffee or two to settle her nerves, and then carefully apply her makeup. She dresses in one of her favorite dresses, a long sleeved wrap dress in black with soft, pretty flowers printed on it and a pair of shoes that boost her confidence, tall black pumps with a gold heel and gold double chains around the ankle. The neck of the dress dips and the delicate material flirts with her lower thighs; she feels pretty in it, in a lighter, brighter way than she’s found herself feeling before. Her makeup is subtle, except for the dark maroon lip, and she’s had her hair blown out and it hangs in soft fingered out curls just past her shoulders. A small black bag is all she takes to keep her keys and cards and then she’s out the door.

WCCTV, the station that houses the studio, is a short drive away, tucked into a neighborhood that Iris doesn’t frequent. She isn’t sure what she was expecting of the station, but it’s a squat little building in an unimaginative cream and brick scheme that would look like any other commercial building if not for WCCTV printed in large blue letters on the building and the satellite dishes spaced intentionally around it.

A news producer meets her at the door, a thin young woman with thick red hair piled into a high ponytail who introduces herself as Katherine.

“We’re all excited to have you here,” the woman says, smiling as she leads Iris through a number of desk cubicles towards a back room. She recognizes a couple of the anchors from the station, who all look either intensely focused on their work or bored out of their minds.

“Thanks,” Iris says politely. “It is a little overwhelming here, though.”

Iris doesn’t love speaking in front of people, which is why she's firmly on the invisible side of her work, but she isn’t as nervous and she figures she could be. There’s that feeling in her belly she connects with nerves, but it’s slight; instead, she’s ready. This can change the trajectory of her blog, invite more viewers and more paying ads. It could invite more stories, people who see her and trust that she wants to do right by them and their lives. She’s practically giddy with the idea.

Katherine’s response is an easy grin. “I know it seems that way, but you’ll be fine. You look fabulous so that’s one concern out of the way. Plus, Alexa and James are phenomenal at getting people to open up at the same time that they project a sort of calmness. It's fascinating to watch and I can tell you’ll be great.”

“Thanks, Katherine. I really appreciate that.”

Iris is led back to a small room where the two anchors for Good Morning, Central City are standing with four other local internet stars. Alexa May is tall and blonde and exactly like what one thinks about when they think of a news anchor: pretty and personable on a killer black skirt suit, though Iris is a little surprised at the naturally kind gleam in her eyes. James Broderick is even taller, his dark hair styled to look windswept, his ice blue eyes looking constantly around the room, as if he’s always wondering where a new story might be.

Iris steps in to greet the other four guests. They include a short Somalian woman in a beautiful bright purple hijab who cooks and shares recipes on YouTube; a stocky white guy known for his skits on TikTok; a dark-skinned Black Instagram beauty guru; and a non-binary Mexican person who discusses true crimes on Snapchat ala Buzzfeed Unsolved. It’s an eclectic collection of people and Iris feels honored to be a part of this group. She’s watched all of their videos in some fashion, though she’s more partial to Aya, the home chef, and Nadine, the beauty grammer. Still, they each have large followings and to be included gives Iris such a sense of pride, that she’s a little drunk with the force of it.

“You guys ready?” Alexa’s strong voice pulls all of their attention immediately, and Iris passes one more look through the crew of them before locking eyes with Alexa and James.

She nods her assent.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At 8, Iris pulls into Barry’s two-car driveway right next to his Jeep backed up into the drive as usual. The garage is open, though, and she takes that as an invitation to walk into the house, finding the kitchen door unlocked. She steps in and presses the button that closes the garage, locks the kitchen door behind her.

Her giddy mood has stuck with her.

The segment had been a quick fire round of questions and answers, with the hosts wanting to know how they all got started, what motivates them to do what they do, and the ups and downs of being in spaces of both influence and criticism. It’d been fascinating to hear the stories of the others, and afterward, they’d all exchanged contact information with the idea of collaborating on future projects.

After, she’d gone to lunch with her dad and Wally, who’d all but hinted at a watch party planned for the following night. She'd merely shaken her head at her family’s love of partying.

Now, she’s at Barry’s and she recognizes that tonight is going to be different. Because she knows that she’s going to say it. After the last part of her interview, where she’d all but explained to Alexa and James that she’d fallen in love with someone, she understands that there is no way that she can announce it on television and not tell the man himself.

It’s fairly dark in the house; there is a small light on above the stove. She continues through the quiet living room, a single table lamp lighting her path down his hallway. She pauses to pull her jacket off, tossing it over the arm of the sofa as she treks towards his room. That’s where she finds Barry, sitting in the large overstuffed chair in the corner near the window.

She takes a moment to look at him, in a pair of soft looking pajama pants and a simple white t-shirt, tattooed arm hooked behind his head as he sits wide-legged in the chair. His dark hair is only the slightest bit messy. Iris likes the look of the breadth of his shoulders, the bulge of his biceps, the print of his sex visible through the thin cotton of his pants. He’s not overtly sexy in the way that other men she’s dated have been, but there’s something about Barry, his eyes and his mouth and his length, that really gets to Iris.

She drags her eyes away from him and that’s when she suddenly notices the two gift-wrapped boxes sitting in the middle of his bed, the large bottle of wine and two glasses on his bedside table, a couple of pre-rolled joints sitting beside them too.

Iris steps further into the room, her heels heavy on his hardwood floors; the movement is enough to catch his attention and his head pops up, those sea-foam eyes glittering behind the wire frames of his glasses as he smiles up at her.

(And, Iris will realize later, her entire body floods with her affection for him, the feeling familiar in that the thought comes so much easier now, comes to her so smoothly that she doesn’t know how it’d once felt so difficult to get the words across.)

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets as he stands, unfolding his long frame from the chair. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” she smiles at him as he comes to a stop in front of her. She naturally reaches out to wrap her arms around him, tightening them around his waist. His touch is automatic too, his big hands landing on her neck, thumbs trailing softly across the skin on her cheeks. She falls against him, his firmness and his warmth and the soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leans down and kisses her, a peck and then another, and then a longer one, his tongue easing out to coax her open. He pulls back first, though slowly, and Iris chases after him. He obliges with another kiss, this one longer, wetter, Iris squeezing him to her.

“Hi,” she speaks, voice a little faint.

“Hey, beautiful” he repeats. He thumbs at her bottom lip, the tip of his finger tracing gently over the line of her mouth.

“What’s all this?” she asks, when she pulls away from him this time. She gazes around the room again, at how the only lights on are the bedside lamps and at the weed and wine waiting on one of those tables and the gifts sitting neatly on the bed.

“It’s a celebration,” he says with a wide smile. “Well, it’s your Friday night routine, just here. I got the wine and the weed, and Thai ordered out here for a bit later.” His smile dims a little, becomes unsure. “And I thought we could talk about your segment today; maybe actually watch it. I recorded it.”

“Really?” Iris’s eyes widen in slight surprise. “I know my dad and Wally did because we’re gonna have a watch party at dad’s place tomorrow. And probably Linda, but...”

“Of course I recorded it, baby.” Barry gives her an indulgent look. “I tried to watch some of it at work, but we got called out on a case before you came on. Then I thought it’d be better to wait to watch it with you.”

Iris doesn’t have a response other than to bite at her lip, eyes trained on him, the reality of his kindness rendering her momentarily speechless. Barry doesn’t acknowledge her silence; instead, he plants another firm kiss to her mouth and steps away from her, nodding at his bed.

“Is this all okay, though? Maybe you can open your gifts and then we can pour the wine and turn on your interview?”

Her smile is big. “Yeah, Barry, of course.”

She looks over at the sleekly wrapped presents before going to sit on the edge of his bed. She makes quick work of unclasping the buckle around her ankle, leaving her shoes strewn on the floor, and then she hops up into the middle of the bed, pulling the two boxes in front of her, her dress riding up to the top of her thighs.

One of the boxes is bigger than the other, though it’s lighter than the heavier one. They’re wrapped in shiny gold paper with dark blue bows sitting in the corner of each. She picks up the bigger present first, tearing through the paper. She recognizes the garment box and thumbs open the top. Nestled in white tissue paper is a pile of red silk, the material so soft and delicate it looks like waves on the cardboard.

“Bear?” she questions, picking up the folded clothing. It’s a nightgown and matching robe. The gown is almost like a dress she’d wear out, with thin straps and a split up the right side, except the fabric of it is so light, one can tell it’s only made to be seen by a lover. The feel of it in her hands is so nice and Iris knows that this isn’t like the inexpensive dresses she buys for herself.

“I thought that you could have one to keep over here sometimes,” he says when she catches his gaze. He looks a little bashful, cheeks slightly tinged pink. “I know that Friday night is largely your thing, but maybe every so often you can spend it with me.”

“And wear this?” Iris asks, her grin widening slowly.

Barry nods.

“I think that this is really a gift for you,” she says and he barks out a laugh.

“It is my favorite color.” He grins. “And I admit that when I saw it, the first thing I wondered was how it would look as I took it off of you.”

Iris rolls her eyes in jest. “Pervert.” She fingers the material again. “So you picked it out yourself? In a store?”

“You have no idea how embarrassing it is buying women’s lingerie. The sales lady kept making these innuendos and I thought I was gonna pass out, I was blushing so hard.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Iris laughs as she reaches over and pinches his cheek. “You did good though. It’s so soft.”

Barry beams at her. “Can I get a kiss as a thanks?”

Iris shakes her head. “Not until I open this other one. I could hate it and then that would overshadow how much I like this nightgown.”

He snorts. “Even if you do hate it, I’ll still get to see you in the nightgown and, honestly, that’ll make my night.”

“Like I said: pervert.”

He just chuckles as she picks up the heavier box and claws at the paper on it. It looks like some sort of leather book, and once Iris pulls all of the paper off, it takes everything in her not to just start bawling right then and there. It’s the journal she’d seen at the fall festival, except in a pretty royal purple instead of the coral she’d picked up there; this one’s definitely a better choice. It has the rose gold edging that the other had and her name is stitched in that same color at the bottom right corner of the journal. She flips through it, fingering the heavy cream paper. Handwriting catches her attention and she turns to where Barry has written a message on the first page in small, scrawling script.

Iris,

I think I knew that I was falling for you during fall fest, when I saw you staring down at the notebook with such a look of reverence on your face. I could see in that moment how much you loved your craft. It made me curious about you, about someone who’s goal in life is to be the voice for those who can’t or simply won’t. And when I started to read your work, I saw your heart in everything you wrote, in every line that scrolled across my computer screen. I wanted to know that heart.

Now that I do, now that I’ve seen it firsthand: in the way that you touch me, in the way that you smile at me, in the way that you make me feel like every day is new story to experience, I want to be able to experience it for as long as you’ll let me. Because you are a lightning bolt, Iris, brilliant and electric. You are beautiful and tenacious and the single most fascinating person I’ve ever met.

So keep putting your heart into your stories, and I’ve no doubt that everyone who reads it will love it as much as I do.

Barry

“Barry,” she says, breathes really. She looks up at him, his expression nervous, his eyes tracking her. She feels the moisture pricking at the corners of hers and she blinks, letting the tears fall.

“Iris.” His voice is a little raw as she gazes up at him. “I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I can…” he cuts himself off as he reaches for the journal. Iris swats at his hand and brings the notebook closer to her. “Iris?”

Another tear, and then another and then more, roll down over her cheeks and Barry stares at her, hand outstretched, mouth agape.

“Iris,” he tries again. Wordlessly, she places the journal back down in the box and then she crawls over to him, planting herself in his lap. She wraps herself around him, legs locking around his waist, arms crossing behind his neck. He closes his mouth, but his features are still twisted in turmoil. “Baby, please tell me why you’re crying.”

He asks this as he reaches up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Everything in Iris seems like it’s settling now, even as the tears fall. Even clearer than before, she can read the story of them, like the book is in front of her, words bold and in technicolor. She can see the dream she’s living in, the vision of them laughing with each other and making love to each other, for days on end, one that plays out like a movie in front of her.

She tightens around him, trying to get as close as she can without crawling inside of him—she really wishes she could right now—and she sniffs, looking down at Barry through her wet lashes. She takes a deep breath. And then she tells him.

“I’m crying because I love you.”

Much like the last time they’d had this conversation, Barry’s body stiffens beneath her. He asks carefully, “And loving me makes you cry?”

She nods and Barry looks stricken. It’s what she needs to bring a modicum of levity to the moment and she huffs out a small laugh. “These aren’t sad tears, Barry.”

Iris can physically see him exhale, letting out a shaky breath. His shoulders lose their tension and he gives her a tentative smile. She returns it.

“For someone who always seems to know what I’m thinking, you completely missed the mark here.”

Barry shakes his head as Iris notes the flush climbing up his neck. “The tears threw me off.” He wipes at her face. “Please never do that again.”

She laughs. “I’ll do my best.”

Barry runs a hand down her back, over the fabric of the dress she’s wearing, and he grips her chin with his other thumb and forefinger, bringing her down so he can stare into her eyes.

“So you love me?” he wonders. His voice dips, lower like midnight walks on a beach in the fall or like early morning talks before coffee and reality ease in. He pulls the glasses from his face, folds them on the table beside them, and gives her all of his attention. She likes being surrounded by him like this, by the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him. She stays wrapped around him like a koala and Barry holds on to her too, gripping her chin and pressing her to him with a wide palm to the small of her back.

“I do,” Iris nods. “Very much.”

Iris can see the joy brimming in his gaze. “Can you tell me?”

“Tell you?”

“What you love about me.”

Barry shifts so that he’s sitting more comfortably on the bed and she’s perched even closer in his lap, the crotch of her panties almost pressing against his belly. He pushed the boxes and wrapping better towards the edge of the bed.

“For example,” he says, and he lets go of her chin to touch his palm to her chest. His hand is warm through the fabric of her dress. “You know that I love this heart, how gracious and compassionate it is.” He reaches down and picks up on her hands, rubbing a thumb along her knuckles, along the rings that adorn her fingers. He brings it up to his mouth and presses a few tiny kisses along the pads of her fingertips. “I love these fingers, because it’s through your writing, your typing, that you show yourself, even when you can’t always physically or verbally.” He goes back to her face, his thumb caressing the middle of her bottom lip. “I love this mouth: the way that it smiles and laughs, the way that it purses when you’re annoyed, the way that it feels on my own.”

Iris can’t help it when she licks her lips, tongue swiping at Barry’s thumb. He makes a soft grunting sound.

“Tell me, Iris.”

She thinks back to the second night they’d been together, when he’d been hard inside of her and he’d asked her to tell him how he felt fucking into her. She decides that this is even harder, not because she doesn’t know, but because when she speaks it, it’s officially there, written out in the sky, heaven coming to collect on its bet.

“I love your tattoos,” she starts, tentatively. She unhooks one of her arms from around his neck and touches at the skin on his arm, tracing the outline of a white daisy. “I love that you did it as a way to remember your mother; I love that you were brave enough to put the iris on your heart, even when I wasn’t sure how to receive that.” She reaches up to trail her fingers along his brows. “I love your eyes. I love the look of them, the fact that I can’t actually name what color they are; I love the way you look at me, how you can tell my feelings by just watching me, how it seems like I’m the only one you see whenever we’re out together.” She lets a nail trace the outline of his mouth, dropping her hand to rest on the back of his neck. “I love your mouth too; the way you always say things that make me feel beautiful or smart or loved.” She licks her lips again. “Or make me blush, like when you’re saying those dirty things when you’re…”

Barry gives her a deep smirk, those eyes flashing in a way that makes Iris’s body clench. Her thighs close around him.

“Like me saying those dirty things when I’m…?”

She rocks her hips. “You know.”

“I do,” he nods, “but I want to hear you say it.” He grinds up into her. “When I’m what, baby?”

“When,” she licks her lips again, slower this time, buoyed by the way his eyes darken, “you fuck me.”

“Mmmm,” Barry groans and then his grin changes to something a little indecent, darker and dirtier. “You know what else I love?”

Iris shakes her head, though she thinks she does.

“I love the way you respond to me, when I’m saying those dirty things to you when I’m fucking you.”

Iris rocks her hips again and she knows that it’s an involuntary moment. Because, like always, she responds to him easily, fluidly, like they’ve become extensions of the other.

Barry fingers at the hem of her dress sitting around her thighs. “Take this off,” he demands. “I want to show you how you look.”

Even with her brows furrowed in confusion, she does what he says, pulling the dress up and over her head. She reveals to him her bra and panty set, a dark green that even she thinks makes her skin glow. He fingers the lace at the top of the cups of her bra, at the same piping along her hips.

“As pretty as this is,” he murmurs, “I want it gone too.”

She unhooks the bra first, staring back at him. She tosses the bra on the bed beside them, her breasts sitting heavy on her chest, nipples already pointing out at him, seeking him, his fingers or his tongue or the nip of his teeth.

He helps her off of him so that she can take her panties off. Then, instead of letting her climb back on top of him, however, he positions himself so that he’s facing the side of the bed. He pulls her to him and sits her so she is sitting between his open knees, her back to his chest.

This brings a different part of the room into focus. Iris has always paid more attention to the wall length window on the other side of the room, the one that Barry will open when they’re together sometimes, taunting her with the eyes she’s sure she’s seen peeking through their blinds and his. The bed sits on a platform facing front, a television mounted on the wall above a stand that holds his game consoles and a few other knick knacks. But on the other side, there’s a bookshelf, above which hangs a mirror. Of course Iris has known it was there, has looked into it as she’s done her makeup or straightened one of Barry’s stolen shirts on her. But it looks almost dangerous now, only in that she can only imagine what Barry has planned for it. In the mirror, she can see all of her. It’s not an extremely large mirror, but it spans the length of the bookshelf and it’s just high enough that, on the bed, Iris can see both of their bodies.

“Barry?” she questions as she looks over her shoulder at him.

“I know you like it when other people watch,” he says, and she almost rolls her eyes at the smug, laughing look on his face. “But I want you to watch you right now. To see yourself the way I do; to see why I felt so compelled to come to you that first night.”

Iris’s lips quirk up slightly. “I didn’t look like this the first night you saw me.”

“I’ve got a great imagination,” Barry winks.

Ignoring his statement,

(but not the way her heart fills with love for him, the kind that sits heavy in her chest, bold and open; the kind that stays strong in her belly, flipping and fluttering and always present; the kind that dips low in her sex, warm and wet and wanting)

Iris turns back to the mirror and catalogs what she sees: her naked body cocooned in his fully clothed one; her brown eyes bright with anticipation, his darkened with barely disguised lust. There are still traces of her lipstick on her full mouth, and some of it is on Barry too, a look that shouldn’t be as arousing as it is. The fabric of his clothes are so soft on her bare skin, and the warmth of the heat through the room only serves to heighten her desire. Barry moves her hands, throws them over either side of his thighs, and uses his to open her legs; the move puts her even more on display, the gold necklace she’s been wearing all day nestled in between her breasts, her belly taut, the pinkish brown lips of her pussy already slick.

Barry circles a hand gently around her throat at the same time that he palms the inside of one of her thighs, holding her open, rubbing gently at her skin.

“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” Barry says to her, whispers it, his voice soft in her ear. “I admit I was drunk that first night, but I saw you and it was like, like the entire world came into focus. I think my body knew I would love you before the rest of me could even deny it. And, by some miracle, I got you to take me home with you.”

He touches her lightly on her neck and then moves down, the tips of his fingers feeling on her breasts until he circles a nipple. She gasps, the sound more like a low moan, and Barry smiles at it.

“You were so responsive,” he explains. “I’ve never seen anything like the way you respond to me; it’s so electrifying, baby.”

He circles one nipple with the rough pad of his fingers, pinches at it until it fully hardens, the action almost painful in that she needs more. He moves to the other nipple, does the same thing, and Iris grinds her hips, hoping to move the hand still gliding on her thigh closer to where she always wants him.

“It can be the slightest touch,” he continues, running his nails down the space between her breasts. She proves his point, whimpering a little as he glides down to her belly, and then up again, adding a finger as he goes down once more, and then up. It should not feel like this, such an innocuous move. But he’s right; she’s so responsive to him. This ghost of a touch, just the barest hint of his fingers on her, and she’s heated, her thighs quaking, her sex fluttering.

“Barry,” she sighs, catching her gaze through the mirror. He licks those pink lips, eyes honed in on her, and in that moment, she sees that it is mutual. However true it is that she so easily reacts to him, he is not unaffected. He is, just as much as she is, the truth of it right there in his wrecked countenance: the burning gray of his eyes, the pink flush of his cheeks, the colorful bunch of the tattoos on his arm as he holds her tight.

“I’m in love with this pussy, too,” he mumbles into her neck, his pale hands moving to grip her thighs. The sight of it is a touch obscene, his lightly tanned skin on the umber of hers, his long fingers pressing into her flesh. He doesn’t touch her sex, not right away. Instead, he squeezes her thighs before repeating his pattern of running his fingers up and down, up and down again.

“Look at it,” Barry groans, and she watches his gaze go down to her before she looks at herself. She knows her own body, but Iris has never looked at herself like this, has never spread her legs in front of a mirror when her lips were wet like this, flushed red like this, puckered open as if begging for the stretch of his cock.

“Look at how pretty you are, baby.” His voice sounds like music to her. “Look at how slick you get for me; how open you get for me.”

“Bear,” Iris moans.

He chuckles. “I know. I wanna fuck you right now too.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because I’m not finished playing.”

Iris gripes at that, throwing her head back on his shoulder and canting her hips toward his hand.

“No, be a good girl for me, Iris.” Those nimble fingers inch toward the middle of her. “Be a good girl and keep looking while I finish playing.”

He waits until she looks back at the mirror and then he starts. That first touch to her sends electricity coursing through her. He swipes a finger straight up the middle of her slit and she jerks, followed quickly by a limb-loosening moan when Barry sucks the digit in his mouth.

“I love the taste of it,” Barry says.

He reaches back down again, uses his index and ring fingers to hold her open and then dips his middle finger into her. He fucks that finger into her slowly, rubbing against her walls as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of her, gathering the slick of her on that finger.

“I love the feel of it.”

He shifts to use all three of those fingers, dipping them in her wet and rubbing them over her. This is where he finds his rhythm. Iris catches, and this time holds, the sight of them in the glass. Her hair is a curly mess, the strands hanging loose and tangled around her head. Her lips are swollen from how often she keeps tugging the bottom one between her teeth, her chest heaving as she prays for release. In all of that, Iris swears she’s glowing, eyes darkened and alight, her entire body lit with pleasure, bringing out the honeyed undertones in her skin. She looks raw. She looks fucked. She looks like a woman who sings out whenever she can, you woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me.

And Barry holds on to her, fingers moving a little erratically, going between fucking his fingers into her and massaging her swollen clit with his wet fingers. All of it is, a lot, the way his fingers look slicker and slicker until she’s dripping down onto his wrists, the way that their different skin colors seem to matter right now only in how erotic the contrast looks right now.

“Come, baby,” Barry says. “And watch yourself.”

She does, watches herself as she comes, watches Barry watch her as she does. And it’s as beautiful as he says. Because she looks like a woman drowning in bliss, a woman draped in desire, the look of it hugging like a second skin. She looks like the way women might be described in romance novels, so satisfied she can’t think of anything other than being wrapped up in the man giving her the satisfaction. She looks like the woman in some fantasy or dream, ascending the clouds, spread out and open in an expanse of blue. She sings it in her head, you school me, give me things to think about; invite me, you ignite me, co-write me, you love me, you like me; incite me to chorus, at the same time that she sings out loud, “god, Bear, baby yes,” her eyes fluttering closed at only the very last minute.

“I love you,” Barry tells her, after, as she blinks through the haze of her orgasm.

With low, shaky limbs, she turns around, crawling on top of him and pulling him out of his sweatpants only enough that she can slide down the length of his dick. He stretches her, even as wet as she is, her cream coating him. Then he wraps his arms around her, pulling her down to him, all the way until there is only the ocean blue shade of his eyes filling her gaze, so different from the molten whiskey of hers, though nothing in Iris doubts that the same expression shines in both of them: that of a craving for this to last until the last breath shudders from their bodies, that of the love that she hopes makes that dream come true.

“I love you too, Barry.”

And this time, they only watch each other, reading each other, their climax hurtling toward them with the sort of rugged elegance that has always accompanied her idea of love. It’s bliss, la, la, la; da, da, da; do, do, do.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So Iris, tell me,” Alexa May starts. Iris inclines her head as she awaits Alexa’s question, the other woman’s gaze kind and curious. “Are any of the stories on your blog particularly personal to you?” James Broderick nods his head at the question.

“Well, they’re all personal to me,” Iris tells her with a side grin. “But I assume you’re asking if one of the stories I’ve written is particular to my life?”

“Exactly,” Alexa gives her her own smirk.

Iris shakes her head, pauses for a minute as she decides how much she wants to say on a widespread television

“None of them are,” she says, carefully. “But I’m working on one.”

Both Alexa and James’s blue eyes light with interest.

“Oh really?” James questions.

Alexa leans toward her, crossing her slim legs and settling her elbows on her thighs. “Is it a love story?”

“It is,” Iris laughs softly. “It’s a story still being written, so I don’t want to give too much away. But I can tell you that it’s about two people who’ve found something neither had been particularly expecting. It’s about two people who’ve struggled to find acceptance in different ways, to fight through the pain they’ve experienced. It’s about two people who feel into each other’s lives in one of the easiest ways possible, like puzzle pieces clicking or locks being secured or some other metaphor for two people who just… fall into place.” There’s a round of sweet chuckles from Alexa and some of the other guests. “Most importantly, though, it’s about two people who’ve stumbled right into something out of a storybook, something that can only be described as love.”

There is a pause. And then Alexa sighs. “God, that’s beautiful.”

Iris presses a hand to her heart, trying to keep in the surge of emotion that floods through her in that moment.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “So are we.”

“And there you have it, viewers,” James says, pulling the attention away. “Keep a lookout for that love story on What a Life You’ve Lived. Thank you all so much for watching. We’ll be right back.”

You're different and special

You're different and special in every way imaginable

You love me from my hair follicles to my toenails

You got me feeling like the breeze, easy and free and lovely and new

Oh when you touch me I just can't control it

When you touch me, I just can't hold it

The emotion inside of me, I can feel it

#westallen fanfiction #strangers to lovers #iris west #barry x iris #barry allen

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badatjokezz · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu!! Rare Pair Fic Recs

i’ve been so hype about some Hq rarepairs lately now imma list some of my fav fanfics, mostly OiSuga mwehehe....

(probably gonna add some more in the future)

Oisuga (Oikawa x Sugawara)

1. Stuck in the Middle With You by overlymetaromantic

It's not the kind of blossoming relationship either of them would expect, but maybe, just maybe, it could lead to something good.

1. In which Suga and Oikawa run into each other on a late night convenience store run.

2. In which Suga and Oikawa inadvertently switch bags and end up with the other’s uniform.

3. In which Suga gives Oikawa the lecture he doesn't want but probably needs, and Oikawa might accidentally be a little in love.

4. In which Oikawa won't shut up about Suga, and Iwaizumi plays matchmaker just to make him stop.

5. In which there is not a date, and Suga likes spicy things much more than sweet.

6. In which Karasuno and Aobajousai hold training camps in the same neck of the woods, and the trip back proves to be more revealing than it probably should.

7. In which there might just be a future to this after all.

(Dis is so fluffy i might die)

2. moving on (growing up) by _helios (neocitz)

‘I’ll do it,’ Suga says, walking into their prep school and dropping his bag on the floor next to Oikawa. He shoves the melon bun and drink forward into Oikawa’s hands, and stands there looking down at him because he knows that he needs to not chicken out.

‘You’ll do what?’ Oikawa looks up through his glasses, eyes wide and confused as the other students stream in around them.

‘The fake dating thing, I’ll do it.’

‘Fuck. Yes.’ Oikawa says with a fist pump.

(It’s been AGES since i read Fake/Pretend Relationship fic, this one is goood)

3. how strange, to be remembered by venusintwelfthFandoms

"He is not formed of the type of dust that makes up stars. Suga is not the type of person that stays in the mind of one like Oikawa Tooru, ten years later. He is formed of the type of dust you shake off, the type that settles into the ground."

Ten years after Suga last steps off a high-school court, Oikawa recollects a "Mr. Refreshing" in a post-game interview, and Suga is left scrambling.

(Cute one-shot, Oikawa still remember Mr. Refreshing from Karasuno)

4. all the small things by Authoress for lemedy

Sugawara Koushi.

Oikawa’s brain supplies the name of the person standing at the other end of the aisle before Oikawa can even register him, attuned to spitting out facts about other volleyball players on a second’s notice, even after all these years. Karasuno High vice-captain. 174 cm…no, more like 176 now. Skilled at raising morale and bringing an element of surprise to their strategy. Troublesome. Refreshing. Setter.

The enemy.

(Single Dad! Oikawa, cuuutee ugh)

5. Win Some by kingdra (aroceu) for Icie

Tooru does not have a problem, its name is certainly not Sugawara Koushi, and he is not going to the Karasuno practices just to watch him. Regardless of whatever Iwa-chan says.

(High school romane~)

6. Even as bright as you are? by BKAKCANON

That night when he goes to sleep, he includes "the safety of fairies" on his prayers, making a promise to whoever was listening him, that he'd protect all the fairies and keep their secret safe forever.

[Where Oikawa meets Suga when they are kids and Oikawa believes Suga is secretly a fairy and decides he has to protect his secret all costs.]

(This is basically matches my headcanon)

7. getting to know you by oisugasuga

Suga feels like he’s back on the court then, his heart thudding hard in his ears… so hard he almost misses what Oikawa says. Unfortunately, though, he doesn’t.

"My, my. What a surprise," Oikawa Tooru says. And then… "Hello, Mr. Refreshing."

(Haven’t finished yet but DAMN I LOVE OIKAWA AND SUGA IN HERE, single dad! oikawa, and Suga babysitting oikawa’s kid, def slow burn. Imma follow this fic till death)

8. Dear Reader by hyirule

No one seems to read the paper anymore. But Oikawa likes to for the sports section. One day he finds himself reading a section called "Dear Reader" and finds a submission he can relate to.

Basically messages sent through a page on a newspaper brings to unlikely souls together, who maybe have more in common than they first thought.

(Cannon compliant, simple and... refreshing(?))

9. rest by shicchaan

Tooru looks at the sleeping person beside him as he waits for the lights change into green. The growing fringe of his husband started to cover his eyes but he can still see the beautiful birthmark under the silver haired's left eye.

(Established relationship, fluff fluff!!!)

10. long is the road (that leads me home) by ichweissnichtauch

He thinks about himself, deleting contacts from his phone and throwing coffee cups away without even looking at the string of numbers scrawled in Sharpie ink underneath, and he’s tired of hiding, tired of carefully treading the lines he’d drawn for himself all those years ago.

Just this once, Tooru wants— he thinks he wants to be brave.

Oikawa Tooru is not a stranger to wanting.

(like... 20% Oisuga but i like the way this story follows the Cannon till he get to Argentina)

11. It's Always Been About You by mintycarrots

Every time Tooru had envisioned meeting his soulmate, it was a confession of love, filled with tears of happiness and a lot of making out. It would be a faceless petite girl that would support Tooru in whatever he chose to pursue and would understand when Tooru prioritized volleyball over all else.

It was never a boy on the rival team.

(Soulmate AU)

12. a play in three acts by venusintwelfth

"The first time Sugawara Koushi sees Oikawa Tooru play, he thinks that if he wasn’t so set on volleyball, he’d do well in theater."

the first seijoh x karasuno match through the eyes of suga.

(Kinda poetic i guess, well written af)

13. colors by dazeful

Sugawara Koushi's colorful life as an archer.

(this is like the perfect oisuga one shot ive ever read)

___

IwaSuga (Iwaizumi x Sugawara)

1. And so the moon cried by iwriteinpenFandoms:

The hillocks are the domain of unearthly creatures. Creatures of rot and fog, of music and dance. Like ghosts in the night they travel without leaving footprints, they disappear in a flurry of long dresses and pale hair. Those who are fated to see them risk curses far worse than death. You may hear them, a giggle in the wind. You may smell them, the smell of the fog rolling in through the trees. You should pray you never see them. Iwaizumi Hajime is a simple man. He works a simple farm job and enjoys simple things. After one morning where he woke next to a perfect circle of death and only the memory of brown eyes and cold hands, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the forest. Will the tales of his childhood play out with him at the center or will he have to disregard all reason?

(Danish Folklore AU)

2. Cry Just A Little by DreadfulMind

Suga was whistling a tune to himself as he opened the door to the bathroom, so he didn't hear the muffled crying through the door. But he could hear it clearly once he was inside. He heard the sharp sob of someone trying to stop.

"Iwaizumi?" He asked, "are you sure you're alright?"

(Simple but c u t e)

3. Generations by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor), mozaikmage

Professional sports blogger Sugawara Koushi writes an article about a volleyball match that bears special meaning to him and his former kouhai: a showdown between Kitagawa Daiichi and Yukigaoka Middle School, ten years after the teams faced off for the first time. He doesn't plan on capturing the attention of the world of sports journalism, and he certainly doesn't expect himself to end up having a thing for one of the coaches involved, one Iwaizumi Hajime.

(Time-Skip, I loved it)

___

KuroTsuki (Kuroo x Tsukishima)

1. Invictus by Chiru

Kuroo T. » So let me get this straight (gay?) Kuroo T. » You want me to pretend to be your perfect and fabulous boyfriend, so that your little freckled friend will stop trying to set you up with cute little highschool girls? Tsukishima Kei » yes Kuroo T. » Aha. Tsukishima Kei » you'll do it? Kuroo T. » I don't know. I missed the part where I get something out of it. Tsukishima Kei » you get to annoy me. Unfortunately Kuroo T. » Tempting, Tsukki, very tempting indeed.

(Fake/Pretend Relationship, some fluff, some angst, i read this in the middle of the night and cried, fortunately happy ending)

2. hold onto hope if you got it by nekolyssi

"Now, in the beginning of their third year of high school, the obnoxious hollering and incessant spirit of his teammates became normalcy to Kei. And now, normalcy is this. Weekly psych meetings. Pharmacy waiting rooms. Prescriptions. Refusal of prescriptions. More prescriptions."

(Not finished yet but yep prolly gonna put this one to one of those best haikyuu fics ive ever read. I wasnt so interested at first but i really like the idea of mental ilness etc, this is g o o d!!)

3. [KuroTsuki Fest Week 2017] Traces by Heartythrills

Kuroo’s disappeared for a little over a week now, and suddenly a 4 year old who looks like him appears before Tsukishima’s apartment.

(Age regression, fluff)

4. I swear by xArtemisx

Like the shadow that's by your side I'll be there

"What are you doing here, Tetsu? It's cold." Kei asked softly. Tetsurou smiled. Hearing his name came out of Kei's lips is always music to his ears.

"Nothing. I just came to think that whatever memory we make, may it be happy or sad memories, the bright moon and the starry night sky is always there to be the witness. Did you notice?" The alpha answered and Kei nodded. He also noticed it.

"Yes, I did noticed it."

(I love agony and sad ending....)

5. Honeybee by ClosetGoblin

Tsukishima has trouble sleeping one night during a Third Gym Camping Trip. So, he takes his acoustic guitar and passes the time with some music, and gets a visitor. Maybe he doesn't mind Kuroo's voice as he does the screeching that Lev and Hinata call singing.

(Simple but sweet)

6. Say You Like Me by the_madame21

It's been three months. And Tsukishima Kei is going to see Kuroo Tetsurou.

(light angst and.. s m u t. Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamic)

7. trying to get to you by mytsukkishine

Everything came crashing down on Kuroo when Kei had left him alone with nothing but the moon shining down on him.

Wherein, Kuroo was struggling to move on and decided that he wouldn't mind being with Kei again.

(sad beginning? yes. sad ending? y e s. you’re a masochist? come get your juice)

8. Please Hold by ThemooncatFandoms

Kei was expecting Kuroo to do one of two things; Send a text to the office saying that they will have to call back another time and continue what they started, or excuse himself from Kei to answer the call, which was most likely. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Kuroo does neither of those things.

(short but hot. what’s hotter than quiet sex?)

___

Ushijima x Oikawa

1. This Insignificant Pride and Prejudice by Mysecretfanmoments, Pouler (poulerslashes)

Oikawa Tooru graduated high school with the burning desire to succeed in his college career. He'd hoped that might include taking down his arch-nemesis along the way, but when he finds that his college team hosts an offensively familiar face, he can't help but think that the universe might be conspiring against him. After all, what could be worse than playing on the same team as Ushijima?

(It was funny for me reading oikawa/ushijima fic with that “you should’ve come to Shiratorizawa” joke at first but somehow i found this one... endearing :3, cute poor ushiwaka)

___

Atsumu x Nishinoya

1. All the things I love about Yuu by KilluCoulomb

Atsumu Miya is fixated in Nishinoya. The way the boy acts, talks, plays. He Carefully observes from afar, but he slowly warms up to the Libero. Friendship becomes more and more intimate. Atsumu realizes Nishinoya is not that simple guy he met three years ago. And he loves it.

(pro volleyball players AU)

2. i'll see you then by noyabeans (snowdrops)

Nishinoya Yuu and Miya Atsumu build a rivalry and something more.

“Oh, it's Karasuno’s libero,” he says, mildly surprised to see Nishinoya’s face staring back at him from the brochure, grinning wide with his arms folded over his chest.

Contains spoilers for the current manga arc, up to chapter 380.

#oisuga #kurotsuki #oikawa x sugawara #kuroo x tsukishima #iwasuga #iwaizumi x sugawara #ushijima x oikawa #ushioi #atsunoya #haikyuu!!#fic recs

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peachcitt · 3 years

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okay, so style reference you say? I'm 👀

YES STYLE REFERENCE I SAY

this is going to be. a very long post i think with probably a lot of tangents and probably with a lot more thorough explanation than you could ever want but. here we go

because all of my theory/explanation posts end up So Long, i like to organize myself by keeping myself to a structure, and i also like to think if i put stuff in sub categories with bolded titles, people reading can skip ahead to the stuff they want if they're low on time or don't feel like slogging through everything. so here's the structure of the official Peach Style Reference Narrative

1. Early Days - how i started writing, my early inspirations, origins

2. Current Days - discussions of current style references plus examples and comparisons, discussions of original content versus fan content

3. Future Days - where i expect my writing to grow, trajectories i want, conclusory thoughts

without further ado, let's get into it!

1. Early Days

like i mentioned on the discord server, ive been writing creatively for. a very long time. i just turned 20 (like. literally today. we love to see it) and that seems very young, but i remember writing creatively when i was maybe six or seven, and before that i played with dolls a lot, which meant every day i was creating little narratives for myself. in addition to this - and this is probably why i started writing so young - i was (and am!) a very avid reader. i was that little jerk in elementary school reading chapter books and going into the older kids' section in the school library because i'd already mentally surpassed the books in the section meant for kids my age. so, basically, ive been writing for maybe 13 or 14 years at the least.

when i was young, my favorite books that i remember trying to copy in my own stories were: the magic treehouse books, harry potter, and percy jackson.

the magic treehouse

i honestly could not tell you which magic treehouse book it was, but i remember reading a specific magic treehouse book where the magic lady that left the treehouse for the kids sends the kids (jack and annie??) a note in distress, and she didn't get to finish signing her name because whoever had gotten her had interrupted her. it had been printed in the book with the ink on her name running.

i could not tell you anything else that happened in that book, but i can tell you that at some point in time soon after i read that book i started writing a story with an interrupted letter just like that. i loved the drama, the mystery of it all. i wanted to do something that was a little scary like that, a little exciting.

harry potter

harry potter isn't much of a style reference, but it was a huge impact of my childhood. truth be told i kind of hated the books when i was really young because i grew up watching the movies, and when i tried to read the books when i was in elementary school, the teenage angst that hits about book 5 simply Did Not make sense to me. i also find the language of harry potter to be super cumbersome, and sometimes it feels to me like the books are long just for the sake of being long. they have a huge cultural impact, but i feel the same way about harry potter's style as i do about dickens. cool and interesting, but, like, could you get to the point already? (and also my opinion of j.k. rowling has steadily been growing worse and worse over the years, for obvious reasons. harry potter is nostalgic for me, but i can't look at it now without thinking about it critically, which really lowers my opinion of it)

however, you could probably call my first fanfiction a harry potter fanfiction. i started it when i was maybe six or seven, and it was a rewrite of the chamber of secrets with my childhood best friend as the main character (she didn't know about it, i just had her as the main character because i thought she was cool). i of course never finished it, but harry potter probably did a huge part of planting that seed of magic in me. everything i want to write included some form of magic - although my perspective on what can be considered magic has steadily expanded over the years.

percy jackson

of all my childhood "style references" that still influence me to this day, percy jackson has got to be the biggest. for starters, it's magic. second, it's main themes are about friendship and family - things that i like all my stories now to always include. third - and most important - is the narrative voice.

in terms of narrative voice, percy has a huge personality. he's witty and snarky, but also very thoughtful and poignant. a lot of my early writing was in first person, and it's probably because of percy. also, percy jackson was the first fandom i really got into, and it was the first media that i started officially writing and posting fanfiction for. percy's voice is so clear and hooking, and i wanted to be able to write something funny and real like that.

also - chapter titles. the original pjo series is famous for its weird and hilarious chapter titles, and even though i didn't really start writing fics or stories that were long enough to need chapter titles until a while later, i loved the idea of putting in a chapter title that would make a reader laugh, or maybe even make a reader feel a little apprehensive about the events to come.

but back to percy's narrative voice. i loved that style, almost conversational, so much that i started thinking like it. when i wasn't doing anything, like walking home in middle school, i often found myself narrating my life in my head like percy would, trying to find that humor and spark in my every day surroundings. i still find myself doing that very often, but not necessarily in the classic pjo style. now i narrate everything in my head a little differently, but that practice narration in my early days really helped my shape my voice, i think.

other series i read when i was younger include: a a series of unfortunate events and the name of this book is secret. i don't remember seeing a lot of influence in my early writing from those books, but i definitely think the styles of those books hit me a little later, which i will talk about in the next section.

but, yeah. these were the big three of my childhood. i also read a lot of ya romance, children's mystery books, princess stories, and various types of fantasy, which i think you could probably tell from the genres i like to stick to now. except i don't write a ton of mystery because, as much as i admire the complicated plots, im not sure if i'd have the patience to plan all that out.

in terms of the rest of the genres, a ton of my earlier writing included classic ya romance and fantasy tropes - chosen girl, love triangles, angsty overpowered teens, etc etc. even though those kinds of stories are not necessarily the kinds of stories i want to write or read now, i think my early writing of those kinds of things was really valuable. it's kind of a dirty secret with finished or unfinished works generally considered 'cringe' - often that writer is a new writer, or they're trying something new, or they just haven't found their voice yet. all of those things are perfectly okay and normal, and a lot of people in the writing community preach that kind of thing, but i don't necessarily see people cutting new writers slack in actual practice. writing "overrused" tropes isn't cringe, it's normal, and, besides, what trope isn't overrused? people have been writing and telling stories for thousands of years - nothing is really new. what matter is that someone new is telling the story, and that's what makes it valuable.

so, yeah, a lot of my childhood writing is cringe to me now, but i wouldn't be where i am without it.

with that being said, let's actually look at where i am now

2. Current Days

im going to break this section down into two parts, sort of: original fiction and fanfiction. because i think both of these things have become really important to me, and i don't believe i personally could exist as a writer without one or the other. it's a symbiotic relationship.

we'll start with fanfiction.

my relationship with fanfiction is relatively positive in online spaces: i write what i want to see from media that i like, and i have fun doing it. i also get some comments on my fics by lovely people that detail exactly what they like - some even go so far to talk about narrative style, voice, or tone - and that's really helpful. generally, i see fanfiction not only as a fun hobby and vent space for my strong positive feelings about certain media, but also as a place for me to try new things, experiment, and earn positive feedback.

i don't often share my original fiction online (and if i do, never at the same scope as my fanfiction), so i don't get that same opportunity to see what "works" with readers. fanfiction gives me the space to see that, and i apply new knowledge ive learned to my original fiction. that's what i mean by a symbiotic relationship.

in terms of specific style references for specific fics (which is what i know you probably most want to see), i'll try my best to pick them all out and give specific examples.

those benevolent stars and i am the messenger by markus zusak

in my favorite book list, i saw you mention tbs, so i'll start there. to be honest, i had no idea what my style reference for tbs was when i first saw your tags, and i almost didn't think there was anything specific. style references are a bit sneaky like that - if you've been referencing for someone for a long time, it becomes less of an intentional reference and more of just a you think, so it gets harder to tell.

lucky for this post, i just finished doing my yearly reread of zusak's i am the messenger, and as i was reading, i noticed a few spots where i was like wait hey i remember doing that.

for starters, iatm has been my favorite book for about six or seven years now, so i would say that some aspects of my style certainly comes from zusak because of how much i love iatm but also his other books. zusak has this huge talent for writing short, punchy sentences that convey so much in just a few words, and i think i've ended up trying to do that in my own writing. often, in my writing you'll see fragmentary sentences such as "He stopped. Blinked. Looked at her." that's not from anything specific, but i know ive written something like that maybe a million times over. zusak doesn't do the same thing - often his fragments are jam-packed with imagery in a way that mine aren't - but there's a thoughtfulness in his fragments that are in mine, too. a sort of pause. a hint that there's thinking happening in the narrator or a certain character. for example, i did a quick flip through of my copy and we have:

"We stare across the table.

Just briefly.

At each other." (I am the Messenger, p.144)

so you see how my common sentence fragment of "he stopped / blinked / looked at her" tracks with a fragment like this? i like the way zusak broke up sentences to make you dwell on them a little longer, consider the importance of each section, so i started doing that wayy before i wrote tbs i think.

also, at the time i wrote tbs, i think i was in the process of, or had just finished doing my reread of iatm, and, like i said, zusak loves imagery. tbs is a very imagery-heavy fic. tbs was influenced by a lot of music - a lot of the scenes have very specific pieces of music that i wrote imagining the tone and vibe of. iatm also references a lot of outside media sources, mostly music and films.

there are a couple of scenes in tbs that i think i wrote specifically mimicking or accidentally referencing from iatm. for example, we have this scene in tbs:

"It was almost like he could feel Marinette’s eyes on his back, steady and gentle. 'But you still love her.”

'Yeah,' Adrien said quietly, 'I still love her.' His eyes moved along a streak of purple that bled into a dark blue. 'I hate her a little bit, too.'

Marinette was silent.

He turned around, giving her a smile." (Those Benevolent Stars, chapter 3)

and this scene from iatm:

"'Do you hate me, Ed?'

Still stupid with bubbles and vodka in my stomach, I answer. Very seriously.

'Yes,' I whisper. 'I do.'

We both smack the sudden silence with laughter." (I am the Messenger, p. 233)

obviously there are differences, and i don't think i did it on purpose, but the interaction is very similar. i love the gentle intimacy of that scene in iatm, that weird complication relationship between the main character and the person he loves, the hurt, the brushing it off with laughter. so i wrote a scene that incorporated those things

zusak is also really good at writing moments of quiet into his books that aren't necessarily important to the plot, but are still important. if you've ever read that ghibli meta post talking about the 'quiet' between scenes in studio ghibli scenes, meant to give both the audience and the characters space to breath, it's like that. nothing in iatm is not imporant - it all serves a purpose, even the quiet moments, and i try to do the same thing. there's moments like that in tbs i think, like:

"Marinette gave him a small smile before turning back to her ice cream. Adrien tried to eat his ice cream a little faster, licking up where it had dripped onto his hand.

They were quiet for a while longer, and Marinette finished her ice cream. She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the dark sky, littered with stars.

He could see them all in her eyes, too." (Those Benevolent Stars, chapter 3)

and in iatm, you get scenes like:

"Our feet dangle.

I watch them, and I watch the jeans on Audrey's legs.

We only sit there now.

Audrey and me." (I am the Messenger, p.120)

so i definitely think tbs is a very i-am-the-messenger/markuz zusak-inspired fic. there's a lot of zusak's quiet, and there's the pieces of zusak's style that i've picked up along the way that really shine in tbs

tomorrow and this body's not big enough for the both of us by edgar cantero

ive talked about cantero a few times recently, but, as you've probably noticed, in relation to my fic called 'tomorrow.' i wrote tomorrow pretty soon after reading this body's not big enough for the both of us, and i used tomorrow specifically to experiment with cantero's visual writing style. in all the books by cantero ive read, there's this kind of hyper-awareness of a film gaze - how a certain scene would be shot on a camera, dialogue as script writing, and other things like that mixed with prose. i thought it was fascinating, and after finishing this body, i really wanted to play around with that idea. so i wrote tomorrow keeping in mind a "film gaze." for example:

"Two figures sitting on a rooftop, silhouettes. The moon hovers over them carefully, a crescent afraid to break the silence. One of the figures takes a breath, looks up into the sky at the hesitant moon, and he sighs. He closes his mouth again." (tomorrow)

versus in cantero's work, where we get descriptions like:

"And then, like a high-heeled coup de grace, she arrived.

She paused briefly outside the door, her hourglass silhouette cast upon the glass panel with the fresh shiny vinyl letters" (This Body's Not Big Enough for the Both of Us, prologue)

the tone of the two excerpts are very different, but there's a very visual sense to both of them, like they are being described from a shot in a movie rather than a regular work in prose. in tomorrow i also work a lot with specific camera imagery - saying where the camera goes in the scene, what it focuses on - and this body doesn't do this too much, but cantero's meddling kids does at least once that i remember.

regardless, after finishing this body, i wanted to try my hand at the visual structure that cantero uses in his works, so i really leaned in to the idea.

chat noir's white french man hit list for feminist purposes and grasshopper jungle by andrew smith

this is, as of right now, the most recent fic on my ao3, and i started it the literal day i finished grasshopper jungle. i think you might be getting a theme here - i read a really good book, and then immediately after i start writing something. the easiest way to get inspired as a writer is to read.

chat noir's hit list is a fic that is very much aware of the fact that it is a story being told - you don't know by who or for what real reason until the end, but it's a self aware sort of story. it's also very snarky and sarcastic, and it expands past just the confines of its own story; it's about chat noir and his hit list, but it also talks in depth about emilie agreste, chat noir's relationship with ladybug, and his relationship with himself. this is very much the kind of thing that you would find in an andrew smith book - grasshopper jungle is a story being told to you, and it's also about more than just the original pieces of the plot. the narrator tells the story that expands past regular confines of the story he means to tell - he's telling the 'history' of his life and his town, but he also talks about his great-great grandfather, the origins of the ketchup his girlfriend's dad eats, and what's happening in other parts of the country as he and his best friend are hanging out. the line in chat's hit list of "stars exploded, the sun did not, life continued on" was very much a grasshopper jungle and andrew smith-inspired line.

at the end of adrien's narration in chat's hit list, he says:

"It should be mentioned at this point in time that this story is not over, although I’ll stop telling it here.

So that’s the story of Chat Noir, who is also Adrien Agreste, who was very much a normal boy, except for the fact that he wasn’t. It’s a sad story, but it is also a happy story, and it is highly confidential. I’m sure you understand." (Chat Noir's White French Man Hit List for Feminist Purposes)

and at the end of grasshopper jungle, as the main character is closing out his narration, we get:

What I have written here is not the history of Eden. It is the history of the end of the world. All real histories will be about everything, and they will stretch to the end of the world.

The end of the world started when Andrej Szczerba slid into the cold sea as his boy, Krys, watched and wept and drifted closer and closer to the United States of America.

Nobody knew anything about it." (Grasshopper Jungle, p.382-3)

It's not overtly similar, but the structure is the same: recognition of the end, short summary of where we started and left the story, tag phrase that was used prior in the work. when i was writing the end of adrien's narration, i didn't mean to mirror grasshopper jungle so closely, but sometimes things just happen that way - honestly, so many of the things i do in my writing aren't intentional, they're subconscious. when i make a conscious choice, it's related to plot or to a new strategy im applying to style or voice that i'm not used to, but a lot of the things i do fly under the radar in my brain unless im purposefully trying to piece them apart like i am here.

i will say the meta-story of chat's hit list was pretty directly inspired by grasshopper jungle because i love meta stories, and i like using opportunities to put them in. i just love the idea of reading a story of someone telling someone else a story, which is what the two books by andrew smith i've read have been, and i think that's just fascinating, which is why i used it here.

ive gotten a couple of comments on chat's hit list that liken the narrative style to pseudonymous bosch's the name of this book is secret and lemony snicket's a series of unfortunate events, which i thought was really interesting, because i was purposefully trying to make the voice an impression of andrew smith's voice adapted to the tone of ml, but i could definitely see their reasoning.

andrew smith, like i mentioned before, likes specifics - what exactly people were doing at certain times, where a specific bottle of ketchup came from, etc. from what i remember of the name of this book is secret and a series of unfortunate events, i remember the descriptions included in those books chock full of highly specific, snarky details that aren't truly necessary, but do a whole lot in terms of adding a certain flavor to the narration. i won't try and look up examples from unfortunate events and the name of this book, but here are a couple examples:

"See, the thing about Emilie Agreste, formerly Emilie Graham De Vanily, is that she was what could be generously called a ‘radical.’ Born in 1969, like most amazing and world-altering things, Emilie Graham De Vanily grew up in London alongside her twin sister, who is a nice enough woman and who is not really that important to this story, and she was raised with the firm and gentle hands of people who had witnessed war and cruelty and had found that they did not like at all. Emilie Graham De Vanily grew up learning about the true history of England, which is not a very nice history, truly, and she grew up knowing that people with white skin like her were historically not all that great. That, historically, was a very radical thought." (Chat Noir's White French Man Hit List for Feminist Purposes)

from chat's hit list, and this:

"In 1905, being seventeen years old made you a man. In 1969 when hungry Jack fought in Vietnam, seventeen years old was a man. My brother, Eric, who was somewhere in Afghanistan, was twenty-two.

Krzys Szczerba came across the Atlantic with his father. They planned on working and earning enough money so Krzys's mother, brother, and two sisters could come to the United States, too. People who did that were called Bread Polacks. They came here to make money." (Grasshopper Jungle, p. 68)

from grasshopper jungle. once again, obviously very different, but you can tell im playing around with that same feeling of giving a surplus of facts in my narration in the same way that andrew smith does. you can't really tell in the grasshopper jungle excerpt, but oftentimes the surplus of 'facts' serves almost a comedic effect, which is definitely something that you can feel in chat noir's hit list.

[REDACTED] and six of crows by leigh bardugo

as a reward for sticking around through this, i'll give out something fun here. the current long fic that ive been working on recently has proved to be very bardugo-inspired, particularly six of crows-inspired.

in six of crows, bardugo gives us action right off the bat and then integrates flashbacks into lulls of action so that there's never truly a dull moment. i found [REDACTED] to be a fic where i wanted to use flashbacks in a similar way, so that i would get something like:

"She doesn’t stay for the whole parade, but she stays for enough of it. Nothing unusual happens, just like always, but she still makes cursory patrols around the city, ending up at the Eiffel Tower, just like always. She sits on the railing way up at the top, and she crosses her ankles, swinging her legs back and forth and humming softly to herself as she watches the sun set.

'Little kitty on the roof, all alone without his lady,' he used to sing when he’d gotten back to their meeting point from patrolling his half of the city before her. It was just a silly little song, one that he’d clearly made up for himself."

It didn’t hurt until he’d been akumatized, and she’d seen that one version of the future - the one where he’d destroyed the whole world because of Gabriel Agreste. She’d seen him then, a lonely figure in white, humming his little song to himself. Who knows how long he’d been like that before she’d been transported to him, how long he’d been really and truly alone. (REDACTED, chapter 1)

and in comparison, we get a lot of scenes in six of crows like:

"Kaz leaned against the ship's railing. He wished he hadn't said anything about his brother. Even those few words raised the memories, clamoring for attention. What had he said to Geels at the Exchange? I'm the kind of bastard they only manufacture in the Barrel. One more lie, one more piece of the myth he'd built for himself.

After their father died, crushed beneath a plow with his insides strewn across a field like a trail of damp red blossoms, Jordie had sold the farm. Not for much." (Six of Crows, p.205-6)

bardugo uses most of the flashbacks during a time in which the main characters are on a long sea voyage, which means they have a lot of time to reflect on their pasts and what brought them to these situations - it's a smart way to fill the empty space of the sea voyage and to really dwell on how important the voyage is. in a similar way, i chose to use the flashbacks in dull or lulling moments in the events of the story, ones in which marinette lets her mind wander or sees something that makes her remember something specific.

however, here's a situation where you can see me adapt the style into something that makes more sense for me, personally: in my excerpt, the tense changes between the current events and the flashback events, while in bardugo's excerpt, the tense stays the same at a comfortable past tense. when i was writing my fic with the flashbacks, i thought the constant, sometimes abrupt, switching would get confusing, so i made sure to always have a clear line using the past and present tense that readers could consciously or unconsciously take notice of.

so there are a couple of instances within some fairly recent fics i have that have specific callbacks to specific books. there are a whole bunch more, i think, but these are the ones that ive played around with intentionally the most recently or the most often.

3. Future Days

based on my recent rapid experimentation in fics (the most recent four fics on my ao3 have been very experimental in comparison to most of my works), i really anticipate a lot of growth in my overall style. ive been having a lot of fun experimenting and throwing in things that a few years ago i would've never even thought of, so im really excited to see where that might lead me, style wise.

i think as a writer there's always room for growth and learning, and that kind of growth and learning comes from not only practicing writing, but also reading. i cannot stress enough how valuable and impactful reading is on writing. considering ive been trying to read a lot more than i have been in recent years, it makes a lot of sense that ive been making a lot of weird decisions and learning more about what i want to see in my own writing.

honestly, if you ever want to know about any of my other fics, or you want to see how this kind of thing translates to my original works, just shoot me an ask! this post is already long enough, so i think i'll go ahead and end it here, but just know you can always ask questions<3

thank you so much for asking me this question and letting me indulge, and thank you for reading!!!<3<3<3<3

#ask #miabrown007 #writing #writing meta #writing style #writing style reference #my writing meta #this took. actually i will not say how long this took because i do not want to hurt myself that way #just know that this took a while. did it need to? fucking no absolutely not you didn't ask for something this long i did this to myself #this is why i didn't answer this for a couple days btw i wanted to take time to actually sit down and write down a thorough post like this #for you and i didn't have the time when you first sent it #technically i should not have had the time today but that sort of thing doesn't count in the middle of the night #happy birthday to me im giving myself a super long meta post where i info dump about some of my favorite things #also you did not. you did not ask for writing or life advice and yet i also gave that. im sorry it just happens i don't know how to stop #im so tired. i have class tomorrow (today) my cat's being a little piece of shit. we love to see it #thanks so much for asking this and i seriously mean it when i say you can ask any time #i obviously didn't go over the majority of my fics and most of this was done off of memory alone #(in terms of my own fics. the books i had to flip through to find the quotes i wanted)#so if you have any more questions about a specific fic don't hesitate to ask!! that goes for everyone btw #anyway now i have to pay attention to my cat and then go to sleep goodnight love y'all

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deripmaver · 3 years

Note

4 5 6 for ALL OF THE CaPri FANFICS

LKSJMDHGVLKSJ ALL OF THEM???

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? 5: What part was hardest to write? 6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

Ink On Paper (tongue fic) 4. lmfaoooooooo there isn't a whole lot of dialogue in this one oop-

Laurent nodded. The wax softened as he pressed his hand into it, erasing his previous message. Soft, warm, melting under his touch. He wrote again, I need someone who is not afraid to read out the insults I make towards the idiots at court. You have been fired, Damianos.

i guess it technically counts lmfao. i just wanted to show laurent post-trauma still able to make jokes and snipe at his husband so it wasnt all doom and gloom 5. i'm not sure exactly what "hardest to write" here means because like... a lot of these fic have serious gore or otherwise upsetting content, but both emotionally and actually writing wise i find that kind of thing actually pretty easy to write hahahaha. i think i got stuck with the chronology and the decision to make it non-linear made it flow a lot better. for the record writing laurent getting raped and then having his tongue cut out was actually very easy to write, i think i got it out in basically one go. #cancelme the more fucked up and intense the easier i find to nyoom through it 6. my first ever fic in the capri fandom!!!! hehehehhehehe <333333 Level Of Concern (plan B fic) 4.

Before Nicaise could say anything, Laurent spat, “Does he know you had your first heat?”

SURPRISE nic was the one who was pregnant the whole time!!!!!!! 5. this one i banged out REALLY quickly so i cant think of anything here 6. capri omegaverse!!!!!!! i wish there was more of this 🥺🥺🥺 Like Me (what if Auguste was also abused fic) 4. ******CW INCEST MENTION CW ABUSE MENTION******

“Your brother’s stuck his dick in every single member of your family,” Auguste spat out, laughing, crying, and so miserable he thought his heart would stop. His voice rose again, and he felt something burst from him as he screamed for the whole world to hear, “Did you know that? Did you, huh papa? Did he fuck you too?”

dude this line is so fucked up lmfao but i enjoyed writing it so much. actually this entire scene where auguste is having his breakdown was really intense to write and im really pleased with how it came out OR

Auguste grabbed him suddenly, looking up into his grief-stricken face desperately. “Please, Laurent,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “Please. Don’t let him end up like me.”

i felt entirely too clever with this line lmfao. i was like ~ooooohhhhh title drop~ im so dumb 5. i just remember this one like. dragged on for some time. i couldnt figure out what to do with it, how to get everything to coalesce around the final reveal about auguste 6. plot twist!!!!!!! plus auguste angst. i really enjoyed this one, i wrote it after watching the movie Spotlight which is one of my all time faves Softly, Gently 4.

“My King has been overexerting himself again, I presume?” Paschal sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. “When have I ever done that?” Laurent cocked his head to the side, a wry smile on his face.

hehehehe sassy laurent my beloved <33333 5. honestly im just going to skip this one from now on lskjghmvlksjhglkvsjhdl i just get "stuck" sometimes without rhyme or reason and its usually on boring stuff, but then i cant remember later. the hardest part for me is when my dumb fucking adhd brain wont let me focus on writing but once i overcome that its usually pretty smooth sailing 6. horny omegaverse.................... my beloved............... giving men vaginas for horny reasons my beloved......................... Water of Life (birth fic)

“Do you want to hold him?” Erasmus breathed, eyes glassy. The baby cried, Erasmus bouncing him tenderly in those sunkissed arms. He looked apologetic. “Only for a moment, it’s not quite over yet.” A playful smile danced on Erasmus’ lips, and he brushed away a slick, damp curl from the wailing baby’s head. “A head this big, he certainly takes after Exalted.”

a cute, fun lil line in the sea of horrible angst lmfao ORRRRRR

Erasmus knelt before Damen, before Laurent. He said, “Exalted… Can you command his Highness to push?” Damen froze. “Do you mean…?” Erasmus nodded. “Alpha command.” Damen’s expression crumpled. He said, in a voice that shattered Erasmus’ heart, “I can’t. I can’t do that to him.” Erasmus licked his lips. “Exalted, in this state, he can’t push. His contractions are weaker. He’ll-” “I can’t,” Damen cried, clinging to Laurent’s limp body like a lifeline. “He’d… He’d never forgive me.”

damen is so sweet........ he loves laurent so much...... ORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

He stopped at the doorframe, turning to face Laurent with tears in his eyes, and whispered, “How long does it take, your Highness?” Laurent, shocked enough to respond, hissed, “What?” “I still wake up in the middle of the night thinking of it,” Erasmus said, voice thick in his throat, tears burning at his eyes. “How long until it’s over?”

real sad hours if u up click like. i love erasmus and laurent bonding over their shared trauma <33333333333333333333 laurent and erasmus friendship propaganda 24-fucking-7 bay bee!!!!! 6. unironically this is one of my fav fic ive ever written skdljmfhgvlksjdhflmgkvjshldkjfghvmls call the midwife is one of my favorite shows and writing this made me look at birth as something visceral and possibly horrible and traumatic. i wanna write more fucked up birth scenes, SO MANY MORE. ridley scott knew what he was doing Sandalwood (erasmus/kallias my sweet boys i love u so much) 4.

“I do,” Erasmus breathes, ducking his head, flushed as though embarrassed. “In the gardens, the perfume from the orange trees all around us on those summer nights.” Kallias smiles behind him – Erasmus knows his body so intimately he can feel it in how Kallias’ posture changes, though he can’t see the soft turn of his lips. “The scent was so cloying I thought it would drive me mad. It made me want to kiss you senseless.” Erasmus laughs, breathlessly, imagining the warm heat of Kallias’ mouth against his. “Don’t blame that on the orange trees, dear one.”

beloved..................... im weeping.......... 6. these two make me fuckign CRY ON THE REG I LOVE THEM SO MUCH MY SWEET BOYS YOU DESERVE THE WORLD- Wisps of Smoke******************* (lauguste fic) 4. ***CW EXPLICIT INCEST*** (i mean....... obviously lmfao)

“Call me what I like,” Auguste growled against his ear. “You know what I like.” He did. Laurent did. He knew everything Auguste liked – the slow flick of Laurent’s tongue on the underside of his cock, that tender spot behind his earlobe, the way Laurent’s thighs looked straddled atop him like his horse – and this. “Brother,” Laurent gasped, desperate, “Brother, please, harder. Harder.”

i wanted the incest to be explicitly part of the kink here lmfaoooooo 6. hehehehehehehhehehehhehe lauguste................... i need to write more of u But I Love It (laurent is allergic to latex fic) 4.

“Laurent,” Auguste said, voice high in warning. Laurent braced himself, stiffening visibly. With what seemed to be monumental effort, Auguste continued, “You know, Laurent. I’m proud of you.”

IM A SOFT BITCH OK???????????????? auguste is PROUD of his baby bro for overcoming his sexual trauma and getting that fat dick 6. SLJHVDLMKJDHGVLK PEOPLE FUCKING LOVED THIS FIC i tried to be funny and i think it worked. plus some softe bits thrown in. i also kind of see lots of humor fic where its a no abuse au, but i wanted to write something comedic where the regent still. existed u kno????? anyways hahahahha i dont think i can write anything like this again but im glad y'all liked it Is It Cold In The Water (slice of life fic) 4.

Laurent opens his mouth to say something cheeky, but instead, what comes out is: “Do you think Aimeric had the right idea?” Damen is quiet for so long, gaze serious and framed with his long, dark lashes, that Laurent wonders if he’d spoken aloud at all – and when he’s sure he had, he realizes Damen had remembered Aimeric after all. When he speaks again, the sleep is gone from his voice. “Laurent,” Damen says carefully, as though approaching a spooked horse, “Is something wrong?”

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 soft,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, 6. ruby likes this fic lskjdvhmflgksfjdhmvglkjsdhflkvgmjhlekjfhdvlgskjfhv im a SIMP- The Devil's Got Nothing On Me (AIMERIC FIC LEGGOOOO) 4. there are lots of lil nuggets in here!!!!

Aimeric blinks, and all he can think is, you knew? He says, "I – I just." "I am a patient man," Guion breathes, "I support everyone in my household. Everyone. But Aimeric, you are truly testing my patience. Your mother came to me in tears, begging me to find you. Look at what you did to her! There was nothing I could say until we found you!" "I'm sorry," Aimeric whispers, looking at Loyse, "I'm-" "Look at me," Guion roars.

this conversation was inspired by a very miserable encounter with my boss lmfao. fuck that guy and fuck guion

The regent, blue eyes sparkling - and Aimeric has never thought eyes could look just like a summer sky until now - says to Guion but really to Aimeric, "I was thinking I could take little Aimeric riding tomorrow. Just the two of us." Loyse says, before Guion can speak, voice trembling with relief, "I think that's a wonderful idea, your Highness."

~dramatic irony~ lmfaoooooooooo. WE know of course that this is a bad thing, but it's always fun to have characters make bad choices that they have no idea are bad. i also did this briefly in "Like Me" with auguste's ex wife taking nicaise to church because she was so overwhelmed at home and he offered to help. of course, the regent is always happy to help out. evil evil evil

"-was worried it might be difficult for him." A soft, lilting laugh. The guards had said the regent was in the library, and then there is Guion, right there with him. Aimeric is suddenly angry, not sure why his father is with the regent, who is his and no one else's. The regent responds, "I daresay it's been perfectly easy. It seems you've done most of the work already."

i wanted to highlight the fact that it was aimeric's neglect that lead him to the regent in the first place. hence "youve done most of the work already" - guion by ignoring and neglecting aimeric created the perfect environment for the regent to sweep in and take advantage. like leaving food out btwn 40-140 F is a perfect breeding ground for bacteria LOL. the books touch on that but i wanted to make it explicit

He is so, so ashamed. It's unbearable, the thought of her kind eyes, the way she cried for him, the way he pushed her away. Before he'd left to join the prince's guard, she had taken his hand, kissed it, and said in a voice fragile as glass, "It's been such a long time since I've seen you smile like that," but in that moment he could think only of the regent's letter warm in his pocket.

6. honestly i know ive sounded super conceited this whole time but i kind of tear up whenever i read through the end of the fic lmfao. aimeric is just so fucking depressing as a character and i love that i really got to explore that in this fic. he really didnt have anyone, did he????? he's like a tragic greek character where you just watch him stumbling towards his inevitable end and it hurts the whole time. its even worse on the reread ANYWAYYYYYYY thats it. thanks so much for the ask anon!!!!!!! feel free to send me more!!!

#captive prince fanfic #captive prince #captive prince fanfiction #ask meme #capri fanfic

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gakucchis · 4 years

Note

HEEELLOOOO !!!! hope you’re doing well and healthy~ i just had a funny thought; what would the obey me characters react to mc dancing to bad boy or psycho or seulrene’s monster HSHDHFJFK like i can imagine mammon’s eyes bulging out HAHAHAH

NGL this is the first time ive EVER gotten something in my box or what it's called 😭 i just woke up so good morning/good evening wherever you are, i hope you're doing well too! and GIRL am i READY to do this !!

after writing all this i realized, i did too much, im a bad writer, i suck at english, i am big dumb, im sorry for mistakes, my uncreativity, it’s 3am lol but at least i passed my driving test today! and PLEAse correct me if i have used gender specific pronouns anywhere!

i included "be natural" too because it's so classy and i love it :)

Obey Me! characters reacting to gn!MC dancing to a Velvet song by Red Velvet

Lucifer

lucifer notice that for weeks your knees had bruises

they started to heal, but they started to reappear again

he was worried about what you’re doing, but you just shrugged it off everytime he asked you about it

that didn’t stop him from trying to find out

one day, he hears a song playing in the kitchen, and knowing you’re on cooking duty, he investigates

he gets closer, seeing your figure standing at the stove, dancing to the rhythm of the song

while he enjoys watching you like this, he tries to link the dancing to your bruised knees

“MC,” he startles you with his deep voice behind you, as you immediately stop and try to stand firmly

“are your bruised knees from dancing?”

you look at him innocently, knwoing he’d tease you about your hobby

he waited for a bit, yet you didn’t say anything, only shaking your head lightly

he didn’t trust you with that, but he knows you won’t be truthful, so his plan is to catch you dancing once again

and that time came sooner than expected

as lucifer was leaving school around the time where most have already left, he was looking through the classrooms like he often did to catch any lingering students

one classroom was closed though, no matter how he tried to open it

“it can’t be helped,” he sighs as he uses a spell to open the door, revealing someone inside

inside of the empty room was you, your d.d.d quietly playing “monster” by red velvet’s irene & seulgi

you practised your dance, shifting from position to position, as you followed the choreography step by step, leading to you getting on the ground with your knees, trying to capture their powerful, mature side

you stopped as your gaze shifted to someone standing in front of you

looking up it reveals lucifer standing there with crossed arms, smirking while slowy kneeling down as well, lifting your face with his hand

“so, what do you have to say now, my idol?” he can’t deny that you caught his attention, so that he did not interrupt you and preferred gazing at your moving body

Mammon

POLICE, mammon is bored again

and his first stop is finding you again, as always

almost always he will bust into the room catching you by surprise, but as he got closer he couldn't overhear the faint music in the hallway

was it a song from that one band again that you liked? red velvet?

even though you had shown him some songs, he didn't remember many, but it would probably be "bad boy" if they repeated it so much

trying to surprise you, he planned on slightly opening the door and then jumping in, but something crossed his plans

as he silently and carefully opened the door, he saw you weren't in your bed, but rather in the middle of the room, with your back to the door

you were dancing to the song, silently humming the melody and concentrating on your movement, not seeing mammon at all

mammon wanted to leave or jump in soon, but you captivated him

followed your every move but by second his face would get redder at your suggestive dance

the way you turned your head, the way you rolled your body, the way you danced so seductively drives him crazy

he really felt like a bad boy down at your mercy

he thought about leaving and taking care of his growing problem because of you, but decided to try and turn the tables

"what ya doin' there, little dancer?!" he exclaimed and caught you by surprised

your flushed face only turned him on more

you tried to hide your face with your hands, but mammon got a hold of them

"listen... y-you weren't that bad..!"

your frown turns into a smile as you chuckle and give him a quick kiss, not realizing how much he's craving you right now

his face begins to blush more, but he can't let go of you or you lips for a few hours now

Levi

something inside levi is detecting something...

a girl group song?

someone's playing a song by red velvet inside the house?

he begins to investigate, but knows where to look first

"MC!" he shouts as he enters the room, catching you by surprise

your lips turned into a smile as you asked for him to sit down, it was actually you who played "psycho" by red velvet

you asked him to sit there and evaluate your dancing, but please be honest

levi didn't sign up for this, but he did it for you, even though he could guess you're a horrible dancer; at least he can listen to red velvet

the music started playing, and your body started moving to the rhythm

the more seconds passed, the more did levi get mesmerized by your way of moving

your expressions made this only worse – your lips that would sometimes turn into a smirk, your eyes that would sometimes stare at him longingly

levi couldn't just sit there and stare, his blush growing by second

he couldn’t even focus on the song anymore, he didn’t even feel like he could focus on you

“MC... that’s enough”

“why? am i that bad?”

“n-no..! y-you’re perfect...”

by that point you realized why he’s feeling uneasy and asked for you to stop, but he reassures you that you’re a good dancer

if you then offer to show him the other dances you’ve learned as well, he’ll die at just the thought of it

so he puts his hands on your waist and pulls you close

“you’ll be the death of me, you idiot...”

Satan

it’s the middle of the night

and even though everyone’s asleep, satan is up again to read something, but there’s something distracting him

your room was above his, and as you both had your windows open, he was able to hear the music you played at this hour

each second, satan got a bit more annoyed, until he stood up to ask you politely to turn it off already

he opened the door to your room, revealing you on a chair, with your leg stretched out and you going through your hair

for a few seconds you didn’t realise satan standing there, and you continued your dance as powerful as before

he didn’t say anything either - being mesmerized by your elegant dance and your seductive movements

it kind of made him forget what he came for, now he was just standing there, admiring your form

without realizing himself, his eyes followed you longingly, as you danced your way to the top of the chair,

turning around,

seeing satan,

and falling forward because you were surprised

“MC! are you okay? i’m sorry for startling you...”

he helped you stand up by holding your hand, but you were too shy to look at him, getting caught like this

you revealed to him that you tried dancing to red velvet’s “be natural”

“you don’t need to be shy, you can show me even more if you’d like,” he teases and brings your hand to his lips to place a kiss

you’re flustered, but you like the way he enjoyed your dance

“i could be your chair too”

Asmo

it was raining again in devildom, and even though you promised asmo that you would go out together to visit a night festival, plans had to be cancelled due to the weather

to not disappoint asmo, you came up with the idea to just have a small party for the both of you in his room, to which he happily said yes

a few hours later, after you’ve bought some drinks and snacks, you were giggling and talking about things

as “bad boy” by red velvet came on, you excitedly jumped up, and even though you would never offer that normally, the alcohol in you spoke, and you asked if you should dance to the song

of course asmo cheered you on to do it, he likes the song after you’ve showed him a few weeks ago

even though you’d normally be embarrassed to death, that feeling flew right over your head and you started moving your body according to the choreography of the song

asmo instantly couldn’t take his eyes off you, next to your beautiful moves to the velvet song, he couldn’t help but smile at your radiance

but his innocent smile turns into something darker the more he follows the swing of your hips and the way you bite your lips when you make eye contact with him

“are you trying to tease me, MC?~”

you cheekily shrug your shoulders and sit next to him again

“you’re beautiful~” he whispers and gives you the first kiss of many, many following along with many, many other things to make you prove the way your body can move

Beel

even though you definitely didn’t like working out as much as beel does, you told him you’d go along with him to gym

beel was happy about that, but he was a bit worried about what exactly you would do the whole time

as he started working out, you settled in at the small dancing area very close to him, and he realized that you would spend your time with dancing

a few minutes passed, and every few seconds beel would glance over at you

he wondered what you were listening to, but you seemed happy and energetic, and if you were, he’d be too!

at some point your dancing style changed from cheerful to more seductive, while still having a fast pace

he liked seeing you like this, but something bothered him as he saw how other demons looked at you the way he did

he didn’t know what it was, but you didn’t seem to mind

at some point it was enough for him, and he asked you to follow you to another room, revealing a bigger, empty dance room

“i just want to see you dance here”, he smiled with his blush apparent on his cheeks

he sat down and hid his little jealousy from before, but now he was able to see your whole body and to concentrate only on you

you played start on your phone and “monster” by red velvet’s irene & seulgi resonated in the room

beel was impressed by your sharp and quick moves, your hands following the trace of your body, your hips swaying from side to side, but he was even more mesmerized by your focused and somehow darker eyes

as you were done with your dance and turned back to him, he clapped for you with a blushing face

he felt more relaxed now, but at the same time he felt his heart beating quicker and his hands trembling

and maybe you could help him with that

Belphie

you were searching for belphie everywhere

as you were just sitting in the living room together, he sneakily stole your phone and left the room, but you didn't realize at first, it took you about three minutes

"belphieee! give me my phone back!" you shouted through the halls as you headed up the stairs to the attic

meanwhile belphie, who knew your code, was scrolling through your gallery, a video catching his attention immediately

the thumbnail was you in a dance room, hands on your hips

he started the video and realized it was a dance practise you filmed of yourself, the name of the file being "psycho_redvelvet_dance"

like belphie always is, he prepared to tease you, but his mind only focused on you in that moment

your head tilted back or you slowly standing up made his mind wander to other places and a sly smirk appeared on his face

you entered the attic and got into his bed fast, trying to pry away your phone as you saw the video he was watching

a blush grew on your face as you tried even more desperately to get your phone back now

belphie caught your wrist and chuckled, "you're a good dancer, MC, but i'd rather see it in real life than just on a video" he cheekily requested

you shook your head, never ever planning on showing him, but he wouldn't let go of you

"then at least show me how you move your body right now"

Diavolo

for extra credit points, you asked him if you could join a voluntary dance class and of course he agreed

after that, he didn't hear much from you about that matter

as the semester slowly ended though, the evaluations for dance classes were starting which consisted of a solo dance which will be graded

even though diavolo usually does not have to be involved in evaluations, he was asked to grade your performance as you're the only exchange student of that class

he received the video of your dancing to a song called "be natural" by red velvet

the moment you started dancing, you captured his interest with the interesting choreography

but it wasn’t only that, it was you personally who gave off a whole different aura than usually

it was like dancing changed you, but knowing that you have this whole other side to you, excited diavolo

your movements and your expressions suited the tone of the song perfectly

he never really new that you were good at dancing – but this proved it

it was quite a turn-on and his mind started drifting somewhere else

before doing anything stupid, he closed the video and came to search for you

surely enough he told you that your final grade would be a perfect 100, but not without his hands roaming your body and you thanking him in another way

Barbatos

a ball organized by diavolo came closer and closer, and you still had the trouble of not knowing how to dance properly for the occasion

you were searching for someone who could teach you perfectly, but not too strictly, and the first person you thought of was barbatos

even though you were shy with your request, he happily accepted your request and told you when and where to meet

you had planned to get there earlier, not wanting to make barbatos wait because after all he did this for you

the room was located inside the demon lord’s castle, much smaller and emptier room others, accompanied with some grand mirrors

you settled in, waiting and waiting, realizing you had been there too early...

barbatos entered the room, punctual like always, but catching you in a trance as you danced to a song

the song seemed to be the new popular song from the human world called “monster”

barbatos remembered you talking about that group and how much you liked them, he didn’t want to be impolite and interrupt you

he also knew that it was impolite to stare without your knowledge - but he couldn’t quite resist

your eyes watched your every move in the mirror in front of you, being sure to not hold back or underdance any movements, practising your expressions at the same time as well

he waited for you to notice him, but you kept going until the last second

“it seems like you aren’t a novice when it comes to dancing, MC,” barbatos chimes in and flashes a soft smile

you apologized for making him wait like that, but he shrugged it off

somehow he was looking forward to the close contact you’ll be having, hoping for you to show him the same longing expression you’ve heard before and feeling your moving body against his

Solomon

"you still owe me, did you forget?”

solomon, as he often did, caught you off guard

“remember when i let you cheat off my test?” that rang a bell in your mind, but it had been weeks since it happened

of course, to show your gratitude, you cheerfully asked him what it is what he wishes for, but what he said didn’t exactly excite you

“dance for me”

... first of all, it sounded wrong, second of all, you did not want to dance for him

you didn’t like dancing in front of others that much, and you even wondered how solomon knows about your hobby

after a long time of trying to convince him to choose something else or trying to persuade him with money, he just wouldn’t change his mind

you couldn’t deny that it wasn’t a weird request, but knowing solomon’s expectations are always high, you got more nervous and wanted to give it your all

at least you were able to choose the song, your forced confidence making you choose “bad boy”

standing in solomon’s room, his always innocent looking smile giving you the go, you give yourself in to the rhythm

you’re performing like you’re on stage, following each step and focusing on your facial expressions toward him

his smile didn’t fade, but you could feel his heart beating a little quicker, even a faint blush was apparent on his cheeks

your confidence grew by second, it was too late to tone it down now

you ended your dance perfectly, his eyes following you from head to toe, but stopping at your beaming eyes

“MC, i asked for you to dance, and not seduce me...” he chuckled in a low whisper almost, making it seem like a joke, but his hand snaking around your waist and his lips coming closer proved otherwise

Simeon

another day at rad was over for simeon, and he prepared heading back to purgatory hall

as someone hushed by the classroom, and he realized it was you, he remembered that he still had your notebook for human world history

exams were coming up, so he tried to give it back to you as soon as possible

simeon stepped out of the classroom and shouted for you, yet you didn’t answer

“are they wearing headphones?”

he rushed after you, but you seemed in a rush too, and a few doors later, he lost sight of you

he sighed and planned on going home now,

but then he heard music from somewhere

curiosity kicked in again, and knowing there’s a high chance it could be you, he followed the sound

as he opened the door to the auditorium of the school, simeon saw you on the stage with your back to the door

carefully, he closed the door and sat down at the nearest seat, waiting for your next move

the music starts again, “psycho” by red velvet

you begin to dance to the beat, the light shining on the stage illuminating your silhouette as simeon can’t help but watch

he’s impressed by your skills, and even though the song shows a dark and mature style, you look like an angel to him

the song is coming to an end, you’re standing there as if you’re imagining a sea of lights chanting for you

the illusion doesn’t last long as you realize you are alone like always, but this time, someone’s clapping

“it was beautiful, MC!” simeon exlaims and stands up, and even though you’re a bit shy, it makes you happy to hear someone compliment you

he’s coming closer, you get off the stage and you’re suddenly standing before him

“were you trying to tempt an angel with that dance?”

“if you felt that way, maybe it’s your fault” you laughed but you couldn’t hide your faint blush

having totally forgotten about the reason why he wanted to see you, he asked you for another dance on the stage, which you happily did

#obey me #obey me!#obey me headcanon #obey me solomon #obey me shall we date #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #red velvet #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #obey me asmodeus #obey me simeon #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons

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