#I’m once again putting out drafts as final versions

[horseshoe-bay-ledger]

Stasis

I was bored. I wrote this. It’s something. It’s also not the requests sitting in my ask box so sorry once again to those who have left them. 

Essentially we’re in Curse Era but Ace shows up at Nancy’s door injured.

———

“Ace?”

There was panic in Nancy’s voice, the same that always came when she knew Ace was in danger or could possibly be hurt.

Except this time that possibility was very real and right in front of her. The physical proof stood in the entryway, leaning uncomfortably against a dooway and bleeding from a cut above his right eye.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Ace promised.

He was still trying to reassure her even as he bleed onto her floor.

“Ace,” she sighed, as an admonishment almost. He was downplaying it because of course he was, it was Ace she was dealing with after all.

He seemed to take it as a critique of his presence there instead, though—like she was at all worried about him bothering her.

“I know. I’m sorry. I thought it would be maybe Carson and, um, or Ryan here.”

“No, just me,” she explained quietly.

Ace looked at her with an expression of unsureness to the point that he almost looked contrite. The wrongness of it echoed throughout her very being. She could feel herself frowning. It was the exact opposite of what they were and she could only really blame herself. It was an awful decision to be made, but in the end it was her who had made it.

He seemed to take her continued silence as an ostracisation rather than a lamentation of circumstance. That was another thing she could probably blame herself for—making him doubt how he understood her, what he saw when he looked through her eyes.

“I—I wouldn’t have come it’s just… I lost my keys at—uh, somewhere. Here was the closest. And there’s just no way I could go to my parents’, you know? Not with my dad right now. Not like this,” he waved his arm gesturing to himself. “And—”

He was more concerned about justifying his presence there than the potentially bruised ribs he was maybe carrying. She knew it was her fault he felt like this but it still pierced her heart like like a shard of glass, and the very fact it was her fault actually made that glass even sharper.

Of course he could come here, come to her, for help.

“Ace,” Nancy said one more time, decisively to cut off his unneeded apology. “Come in. You know your way round. You can stay here tonight but we need to clean you up first.”

She turned, hugging the door so he could pass. And he did—just very slowly. Not a good sign. All she wanted to do was reach out and help him. She settled for supporting his elbow a few steps.

“I’m okay,” Ace lied.

“Hmm.”

“I promise.”

“I know you, Mr. I’m Okay. I know you’re alright no matter what but that doesn’t mean you always have to be okay.”

She was telling him something about herself.

“C’mon. Kitchen stool’s probably best. I’ll run upstairs and grab the first-aid kit.”

She made her way hastily up the stairs and once she’d pulled the kit out from under the sink she took the briefest of moments to herself. She clutched the basin with her hands and let gravity take the weight of her head if just for a second. Then she drew herself up, wiped her face with her hands and took a deep breath. She made eye contact with herself in the mirror and did her best to muster some semblance of a brave face.

As she glided back down the stairs she saw that Ace had uncomfortably settled on one of the kitchen stools. Without looking at him directly she put the first-aid kit on the kitchen island with a loud thunk and opened it dramatically.

“Quite the extensive first-aid kit,” Ace commented.

Nancy hummed in agreement.

“I was a troublesome child,” she replied.

“I don’t doubt it.”

Her eyes flicked to his then. The look they shared was loaded and utterly unconnected to the words they were saying.

There was a long stretch of silence as Nancy tended to his (visible) wounds. Ace was trying to be stoic but she saw the slightest scrunch of his nose when something stung or hurt. She hated to admit she felt every single thing along with him. Awful thing to have your heart exist outside of your body.

She didn’t like she was adding to his pain either, even if it was helping him. There was some broader metaphor there but she was too emotionally exhausted to pay too much attention to it.

He was right though, it wasn’t as bad as it looked. He had that going for him at least.

“So,” Nancy said eventually, not as a beginning of a sentence but as a full sentence.

Ace only raised his eyebrows in response to her raised eyebrows so she decided to make the conversation, if you could call it that, more productive.

“You going to tell me what happened?” she prompted.

Ace just sighed, considering.

“Had a thing. Dug a bit too deep,” he said. “Some people didn’t like what I found.”

“Ah,” said Nancy. “The Nancy Drew Special.”

She granted him some time away from her probing questions, but they both knew that she wouldn’t drop it forever. He had known that when he said it but he had been asking for some time, a moment, some room to breathe—so she relented.

“You don’t have to do it on your own, you know,” she said after a beat.

“I know, I was going to call but…” he paused. Nancy knew exactly what the ‘but’ was about.

“Right,” she said, pausing. “Well, next time I’d still rather you call.”

Ace nodded.

“Noted,” he replied kindly. “Thanks.”

She gave him a tight smile and went back to work. She felt the weight of his gaze on her as she did.

Once she was done fixing his face up best she could she surveyed him. His face looked much better but he was still sitting awkwardly.

“I need to look at your side.”

“W—why?”

“Because I can tell by the way you’re leaning something’s wrong,” Nancy explained. “Can I please just have a look at least, I’ll be gentle.”

Ace gave her a discerning and somewhat disbelieving eye.

“Okay,” she conceded. “As gentle as I can be. Can I?”

She ran her fingers lightly along the hem of his shirt. His face hardened briefly before he quickly schooled his expression and nodded shortly so Nancy pulled up his shirt to see.

She poked around, but gently as she promised. She rode every wince with him, hating it all the way.

She pulled her head back after her examination. But her hands remained where they were. They feathered lightly over his side now, barely touching him and not with enough pressure to hurt. It was almost instinctive and she couldn’t help herself.

She needed to stop.

He blinked quickly and she thought she heard a stutter in his breath.

“I, uh,” Nancy tried, swallowing thickly. She hadn’t fully registered—or allowed herself to register—until just now how close he was and she was beginning to feel unsteady, a little heady.

She could not be distracted.

She would not be distracted.

Her mouth was slightly open now, she was probably going to say something but she had no idea what it would be, if it was anything at all.

Why was he looking at her like that?

She wanted him to stop but, also, she never wanted him to stop.

They both looked down at her fingers still traitorously tracing thoughtless shapes along his skin.

“I don’t think your ribs are bruised or broken,” she said more composed than she felt but barely above a whisper. It was easier now he wasn’t looking directly at her. But only marginally. “You’ll probably have a nasty bruise but there’s, um, not a lot to be done. I can grab you an ice pack or something.”

“Uh-huh,” Ace said, far off. He brought his hand up and grazed it along her wrist, cradling it in.

His fingers were barely touching her skin but she felt goosebumps in their wake. That was to say nothing of what it did to her heart. It felt like it was about to explode even with the most inane of touches.

His head was still bent, silently looking down at his right side—their hands. They were so close she could feel his hair brush gently at her forehead. She didn’t know if she had forgotten how to breath or whether she just unable to in this moment. Ace had stolen that away from her with just an index finger. She felt utterly and overwhelmingly entranced.

She should have left immediately—gone and got an ice pack freezer but instead she continued to stand in in place. Her feet, too, had turned traitors it seemed. What had happened to her will power? But she knew what happened: Ace had eroded it without even really trying.

If they just stayed like this, though, that would be alright. She could look at the nook of Ace’s elbow and want to push her thumb into it. She could think of doing the same to the crease now between his eyebrows. She could think about kissing him until neither of them could breathe, and then just a little bit more. She could do all of that and it would still be alright. No harm done. No fatal curses triggered. But then he had to go and look at her again.

And everything came undone. All her resolve, all the work she had done these past weeks to avoid him, everything. Her ears were ringing and the only sound she could make out now was that of her thundering heartbeat and Ace’s uneven breathing. Or maybe that was her uneven breathing—it was hard to tell.

They had a silent, one-second conversation that lasted a lifetime.

Then she saw the glint in his eye, and she knew the moment he decided he was going to lean forward and cross a threshold that could not be uncrossed.

Something screamed out a warning from deep within her and, suddenly, it was like someone had dumped a bucket of water over her head.

It took everything in her, but she pulled back. For him. Anything, even this. Even hurting him to help him.

She cleared her throat loudly. Ace was startled into refocusing on her abrupt re-routing of the moment. She could see him clock it, recover from it and put it away so he could dissect it later. For just a second she wished they weren’t so similar.

“I need to, uh,” she was quickly forgetting how words worked. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ice pack.”

When she came back with a bag of peas (it was all they had), she did her best to be as even and perfunctory as possible.

“I’ll bring a mattress down so you’re more comfortable and you don’t have to go upstairs,” Nancy said. “I can sleep on the couch.”

Ace’s throat bobbled and he looked like he was going to confront her. It was nothing but misplaced hope on her part that made her feel like there was even a possibility of avoiding that. How could she have made such a disastrous misstep? How would she parry this one?

She felt herself subtly pleading at him with her eyes. Desperately trying to reach out from behind the façade she once again had to put up.

She saw his expression change as he looked at her and his mind deviate at the last second. He knew her too well for his own good. She let out the breath she had been holding.

She knew that it was only a stay of execution. They were too much alike for him to be able to drop it entirely. She just hoped it could be delayed for as long as possible until she could figure something else out.

So he chose something else to argue with her about.

“I’m okay on the couch,” he insisted. “I’ve disrupted your night enough already.”

Nancy just shook her head and he relented. Normally he would keep insisting and end up taking the couch but he looked… tired. He probably figured out that she didn’t have the bandwidth to fight him on it either. Not after they had reached some sort of multifaceted truce on confrontation.

She went about setting them up for the night. Ace kept trying to help to the point where she literally had to slap him away at one stage.

“What’s the point of me doing this if you’re just going to hurt yourself more?” she’d said, buried under an armful of blankets and pillows.

“You wouldn’t have to carry so much,” he said simply.

He was telling her something about himself.

“Sit there and drink your tea. It’s some fancy brand Ryan bought and he’d be mad if you wasted it.”

That seemed to finally strike a chord with him and he sat back down.

In all honestly, she could’ve taken one of her dad’s beds but she wanted to be near so she could be sure Ace was okay (that was what she told herself anyway). It hadn’t passed by her notice that he could definitely have picked the locks at his own place but they’d deal with wherever Florence was tomorrow. And the fact Ace probably needed to see a doctor.

They just needed to get through the night.

“Ace,” she whispered into the dark. “If you snore I will kick you out.”

There was a moment that all her anxieties threatened to rush up and fill but then…

“Fair,” he replied sleepily.

It was quiet after that but Nancy knew it would be short lived. She found that, not for the first time, she was somewhat dreading her morning coffee.

#mediocre at best #my sweet spot #it’s a little cliche I know but here we are #probably typos galore #I’m once again putting out drafts as final versions #I’m at that stage in my life I guess #nancy drew #nancy x ace #nace #ace [redacted] #ace x nancy #nace fic #ndcw #cw nancy drew #nancy drew cw

[samkerrworshipper]

las 15.

mapi leon x reader, alexia putellas x reader (platonic)

warnings: the spanish federation ick

erm look at me posting something 😮 anyways enjoy haha i kinda hate it but need to feed yall somehow

“You need to be aware of the consequences of what could happen if you sign this document.”

You stared down at the mahogany surface of your lawyers desk, it was dark, sanded, smooth and shiny. Contemporary, but it also looked old, like a heirloom. It distracted your from the non stop drawl.

“I don’t care, I’m signing it.”

Your eyes travelled along the surface, lookinbg at the different waves of wood and the way that the dark colours marbled together.

“The RFEF could come for you, they could try and take your license. You might not compete at the world cup, the press will come for you, Vilda will come for you, Barca could reduce your playing time, it could be the end of your career. There are other negatives.”

You’ve thought about all of them of course, how could you not?

“I’ve already said it, I don’t care. Let them come for me, let them do whatever they want. I am done with it all. Fourteen other players have signed it, no? I will be the fifteenth and that is final.”

You weren’t a big fan of your lawyer, he was old and money oriented. He also didn’t have your best interest in mind, his sole focus was earning you as much money as possible, which had been fine up until today.

“So what? You plan to be the best in the world and never play international football again? This will ruin your career, it will put an end to the Ballon D’or campaign, it will change things for you, you can’t just do this because your girlfriend does it as well, this will be detrimental for you.”

The wood grooved at the edges, flattening out and curving so the edges weren’t too sharp.

“I refuse to stand by and submit myself to abuse. That’s what happens every time I go to that place, every time I go to camp I submit myself to abuse, torture, horrific conditions. The fact that you would even dare imply that I would do this for anybody but myself is preposterous. I am better than the condition I am being subkmitted to, I deserve better than to be objectified and treated as if I am dirt on that man’s shoe and I refuse to be treated as such. I have standards for myself and the people around me and I refuse to live by these for much longer. I’ll draft up the letter, I’ll send it to you for editing purposes and once your done you will send it to the RFEF, consequences be damned. You should be glad that I lasted two more windows then everyone else, honestly I’m ashamed that I didn’t do this earlier, but I’m ready to take a stand with everybody else now. I don’t want to play in a World Cup if it means this is how I will live my life.”

You looked up at your lawyer, hoping the fire burning in your soul was reflective in your eyes.

“This is a bad decision, you are thinking with your heart and not your head, this is unlike you.”

You pulled your eyes from the mahogany, standing up from your seat slowly.

“No, I’m thinking with my own interests, not yours, not my managers, not my bank accounts. I’m thinking with my mental health, my emotional health and my physical health. For the first time in my life I am taking time to focus on myself, so tyeah maybe it’s unlike me, but I’d like to think this might be the a better version of me, I’ll email you my letter, all you havr to do is forward it, if it’s such a struggle don’t even bother reading it, I don’t care what you have to say, I’m legally obligated to make you aware of any contractual issues so here I am. Give a fuck, don’t give a fuck, it doesn’t change anything for me, I’ve made my decision and nothing or nobody will make me change my mind.”

You didn’t wait around to hear what he planned to say in rebuttal, exiting the stuffy office as quickly as your legs would allow.

You made it to your car before you felt the tears flooding down your face. Even now, even after you’d tried to speak out you still felt like you were being silenced, like nothing had changed. That’s why you were doing what you were doing, why you knew this was what you needed to do. It didn’t make it any easier though, knowing that no matter what choices you made, even if they were for the good of you there were still going to be people around you who condemned them.

You were supposed to be at training, but you’d taken the day of to finalise all this bullshit. It was frustrating, knowing that the choices you were making for the good of yourself could end up being harmful to your career in a multitude of ways, it was all so fucking hard.

Everybody was at training, and yet here you were balling your eyes out in the carpark of your stupid fucking lawyers office.

If you hadn’t hit rock bottom at the last camp, the this was it, this was your final straw.

It was all too much, you’d been holding out for too long, but the mixture of the other 14 girls refusing to come back and Alexia’s injury had been enough of a motivation for Vilda to try and ruin your life. It had started with extra training after your sessions, then sessions in the mornings, then separating you from the rest of the team, limiting your diet, gym sessions, changing your schedules to everybody elses, punishing you for nothing, treating you like you were a slave to the Spanish Women’s team.

You were the best midfielder they had, excluding Alexia, and she was hurt, you were the scapegoat for the team, you were responsible for the wins and the reason for the losses.

You knew that with your leave, somebody else would end up taking your role, probably Aitana who was far to young to deal with that kind of pain, and you felt bad, you felt more guilty than you thought possible, but you couldnt do it for any longer, you couldn’t act like it wasn’t killing you on the inside for every second that you spent away with those people.

You hated it, you hated feeling like nothing, you hated feeling worthless, you hated living your life like it was pointless, you couldn’t do it for any longer, not when you were giving up every single part of yourself to keep yourself together.

You couldn’t stay how you were, crying in the drivers seat of your car milling over the memories of your last camp, you needed to leave, needed to go somewhere, needed to talk somebody.

Before you really knew what you were doing you’d started driving, letting the tears drip onto your lap and the steering wheel as you frantically drove your way through the city.

You couldn’t be alone, but you also couldn’t handle all the eyes of your teammates, so you drove to the one other place that you could think of where you hoped somebody would be.

You tried your hardest to wipe the tears from your face, but they kept falling, the sleeve of your shirt getting damper by the second as you tried to wipe up the evidence of your breakdown. It was useless, and eventually you gave up, stepping out of your car and ducking your head as you walked towards the lift and navigated your way through the apartment building.

The person you were looking for didn’t answer the door, instead you were put face to face with Olga.

“Hola chica, Ale didn’t tell me she was expecting visitors.”

You bit down on your lip, tapping your foot against the floor as you peeked around Olga, searching for the person you were seeking out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell her, I can go home, I know she’s been busy with her rehab, I don’t even know how I ended up here.”

Olga tugged at your arm before you could spit anything else out, tugging you through the door and closing it from behind you.

“Nonsense chica, you’re very welcome here, Alexia is sitting out on the balcony doing her exercises, she’ll be more than happy to have your company, just head on through, your always welcome here.”

You nodded at Olga, smiling at her as much as you could with your lip still stuck between your teeth.

“Thank you, thank you so much, I really appreciate.”

You tried to ignore the tears that were still dripping down your face, it didn’t feel like you were crying, even though you were, it more felt like you were shedding a layer of yourself, the layer that was holding all of the trauma that you’d been holding in, like it was your way of getting rid of it all.

Alexia’s apartment was meticulously clean as ever, but you spotted her out in the sun easily.

She was standing outside, in a pose similar to ones you did in your yoga sessions.

She looked at peace, like she was calm, like she was serene, the complete polar opposite to how you felt and you really didn’t want to burden her with your problems, but you were here now anyways.

You tiptoed over to the glass sliding door, pushing it open, causing Alexia’s head to peak up at you. She looks at you with curiosity, but doesn;t move, instead her head nods you towards one of the outdoor lounges beside her, which you beeline for.

She stays in her position as she addresses you.

“The appointment with your lawyer didn’t go well then?”

You did a double take as you stared at Alexia, shocked at the information she’d somehow managed to obtain.

“You don’t take me for a idiota do you? Mapi told me you had a appointment you were keeping quiet about this morning, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out who it must have been with, considering recent events. Although your girlfriend wasn’t smart enough to work it out herself.”

Alexia stayed in her stretch, looking at you as if to prompt you to tell her more.

“Yes, I had a appointment with my lawyer, Alexia.”

Alexia smirked to herself, she was one of the most obersvanet people you knew, nothing got by her, you weren’t all that surprised to find out that this hadn’t.

“You’ll be joining the group then?”

You hadn’t really comes to terms with it, let alone saying it out loud.

“That’s the plan, should be official by tomorrow.”

Tears were still dripping down your face, you couldn’t find yourself caring though.

“Good for you. You deserve better, we all deserve better, may we all hopefully make a change.”

Alexia wasn’t officially a part of the movement, but she was everyway besides a signature as equally involved as everybody else.

“It just feels like i’m letting the team down, that I’m letting everyone down.”

Alexia nodded at you, finally coming out of her stretch and walking over to sit down next to you.

“You’re doing what’s good for you chica, your doing something that is going to make you happier, that is going to make your life better. Nobody else matters beyond that, trust me.”

Alexia looked at you, like she was genuinely struggling to help you out in the moment. She had been your mentor at Barca for forever, you seeked out her advice more than anybody elses, especially in this moment.

“I don’t know how to do it anymore, it’s like he was trying to ruin my fucking life, like his whole purpose for everyday was to make my life a living hell, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t walk around camp acting like it was fine, I couldn’t smile at cameras and talk to the press and tell them about how great I was feeling when it was all lies, all I wanted to do was leave, or sleep, or die, all because of his and his staff. They were hardly feeding me, hardly letting me sleep, hardly giving me a break and expecting me to perform at the same level as everybody else, if not better. I just couldn’t do it anymore Ale, it was too much.”

Alexia’s arm placed itself on your knee, squeezing your covered skin.

“You shouldn’t have to, you needed to leave and you did, you made the right decision chica, you made a impossible decision that will make your life 100 times easier, it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you so incredibly brave for being able to identify that you were being treated wrongly and that you needed to remove yourself from that space.”

The tears kept falling, your pants were slowly becoming soaked with the raw emotion.

“Mapi did it because of the abuse, because she had a legitimate reason, I’m leaving because they worked me a little bit harder than everybody else, it feels like I’m overreacting.”

You could feel Alexia rolling her eyes from beside you.

“Really? Has Mapi told you that?”

Mapi had told you that you deserved the world, you deserved everything you wanted, you deserved to be treated like a queen, not how the RFEF was treating you. She’d told you the decision was yours, that she would support you no matter what you did, but she’d also told you that after every camp you came back with a little bit less of yourself, that Vilda was stripping parts of you away to use at his mercy.

“It’s not the same thing, Patri, Pina, Mapi, they all have good reasons, they’ve all been hurt, Vilda is just trying to make me better, trying to make me worthy.”

Alexia’s hand squeezed tighter.

“You’re lying to yourself and you know it. As long as he is in charge, you aren’t going to get treated how you deserve, none of us are. We’ve all paid our dues, yet they don’t give a shit, they break us all down until we’ve got nothing left to give. They broke me down until I did my acl, if you hadn’t of left they would have done the same to you. It’s nonstop, even if it isn’t the same kind of abuse as Mapi, it’s still abuse, they still rip out every part of you in the process. Each time you come back you have less of yourself to offer, but they keep taking, and taking, they make us feel nothing. It’s a waste, it’s a waste of the wonderful life we’ve all been gifted. We deserve to be happy, we deserve to be free of the pain.”

You nodded your head, you’d been avoiding telling Mapi about all of this. You were conscious that she was still working through a lot of her own trauma, and you didn’t want to reopen scars that were only just beginning to heal.

“I don’t know what to do Ale, I sign the papers, I write the letters and I’m taking a stand, I’m trying to make a change. I stay, I wreck it all, but I keep my career. It feels like I’m at a crossroads with myself, and I can’t talk about it weith Maps because god forbid shes already been through enough with her own struggle through it all, she doesn’t need me on top of that.”

Alexia stood back up, getting back onto her mat and pushing herself into another stretch, all whilst she maintained eye contact with you.

“Mapi’s talked to you about her struggles, si? She’s burdening you with her own problems, yet it doesn’t feel that way, because you love her and you’d do anything to make her pain less. I guarantee she’d feel the exact same way. You’ve been through a lot, none of us will ever be able to completely comprehend what you’ve been through, but if you started talking to your loved ones about it we’d be able to support you better. Or a therapist, I know Barca has been giving you sessions, but I mean a real psychologist, not just a person who tells you that you need a day off. You need somebody to help you, to actually make you feel like you deserve better than how they treated you, because I know that you know that but I don’t think you really believe it.”

The tears were slowly coming to a standstill, slipping less frequently down your face as Alexia talked to you.

“I don’t want to make her hurt any more than she already has.”

Alexia just looked at you, with that double eyebrow raise and little crinkle in her forehead.

“If you think that Maria wouldn’t do anything for you, even if it meant sucking every single inch of pain from your body and putting it into hers, she would do it and she would do it with a smile on her face. Her whole world, her whole solar system revolves around you and she’d want you to talk to her about this. She knows better than anybody else what you’re experiencing, she’s literally been where you are, so why not talk to her about it?”

It was true, for as long as Mapi and you had been together she’d tried to fix every single thing, she would do anything to make you feel better, this didn’t feel the same though.

“She deserves to live in a world where Vilda, where the RFEF, don’t affect her anymore. She signed the petition, she’s cleaned her hands of it all, and I should have done it with her, but I didn’t. I chose to keep playing for the benefit of my career, because I was greedy and decided that a Ballon D’or and any kind of accolade I was a shot at was more important then taking a stand and I hate it. I hate that now that I’ve won things that suddenly it’s all hit me that I don’t like what’s been happening, and I don’t want to support it. Mapi doesn’t deserve to go through it a second time, all because I was greedy.”

Alexia switched sides on her stretch, the sun was radiating off of her olive skin and her blonde hair, she looked ethereal.

“Have you told her anything about it?”

Alexia was frowning, like she was shocked by your actions.

“She knows that I was struggling at camp, she told me I was welcome to talk to her. After the last one she knew something had changed, she told me she was worried and I shook her off, because I thought she was being overprotective, but she was right, she had reason to be worried, I wasn’t okay. I’m not okay, i don’t know how to process it all.”

Alexia nodded.

“Go home, tell her what’s happening, see what she says, I think it’ll be a lot better than whatever you’ve thought up. Mapi has been my bestfriend for years, she’s dated my sister, she’s dated my friends and I can confidently tell you that she loves you more than any of them, you’re her do or die, all she’ll want to do is support you, please just go and talk to her.”

Alexia looked at you with such conviction and honesty that you couldn’t find it in you to try and fight her on the topic.

“Thank you Ale, I needed this, I needed to talk to somebody, needed to feel less crazy.”

Alexia did one last stretch before standing up, pulling you into a tight hug before you could pull away.

“You’re not crazy chica, you’re going through a very real, very hard time, and you deserve to have the people around you show you how much they love you.”

Alexia let go of you, shoving you back towards the door.

“Go talk to your girl, and sign those papers, and be happy, enjoy life, enjoy peace. You deserve it, chica.”

You nodded into Alexia’s shoulder, letting go of her and slipping back into her apartment, leaving her to get back to her stretching.

You shivered when you spotted Mapi’s car already parked in her spot. You knew you’d be cutting it close with getting home earlier then her, but you’d held a silent hope that you would be the first home. You hesitated to exit your car, scared of what the inside of your apartment held. You weren’t scared so much, more a little bit tentative of the conversation that you were about to have, knowing that it could majorly impact your relationship. In your heart, you knew that Mapi would love you no matter what, but it didn’t calm the nerves inside of you as you pulled your keys from the ignition, pulled out the papers that your lawyer had given you and exited your car.

The whole walk from your car, to the elevator and then down the hallway to your apartment had your heart thrumming inside of your chest. Your hands were quite literally shaking as you pushed your key into the door.

You toed your shoes off at the door, slotting them down beside the door before slowly walking your way through the entrance. It wasn’t hard to find Mapi, she was right in front of you, sitting down at the island bench, patting Bagheera and eating a post training salad. You knew that there was one meant for you still sitting on the shelf of your fridge, from when the two of you had meal planned yesterday. She looked so undisturbed, with the afternoon light coming in through the gaps in the blinds and the general silence that you were about to break.

You announce yourself by slinging your bag down against the wall, a loud enough noise that seems to wake Mapi from her happy daze.

She smiles as soon as her eyes set on you and it only makes the weight in your gut feel ten times heavier and the pain in your heart ten times worse.

You wanted to turn around and walk right back out the door you’d just walked through, but you couldn’t, not with the way that Mapi looked at you, like her whole day had been made by your appearance.

“Hola bebita, how was your meeting?”

Mapi’s smiling ear to ear, quite literally, you swear you can see every single one of her teeth. It had hurt you to lie to Mapi about where you were going today, telling her that you’d had a crucial appointment with your manager about some media things, it wasn’t a direct lie. You had met with your manager, instead of it being positive though, it had been quite the opposite.

You didn’t have any words to reiterate to Mapi, so instead you just picked up the papers that were tucked away in your hands and placed them down on the island infront of her.

Mapi looked at you with confusion for a few seconds.

“Just read them, you’ll understand it more once you have.”

Mapi didn’t hesitate, picking up the first piece of paper and scanning over it, before moving onto the second, then the third and so on, till she’d made it through the entire stack.

You stood anxiously on your toes the whole time, balancing from one foot to the other as you contemplated how Mapi was going to reply to this sudden change.

When she did finish, she looked up at you, a lot of questions hidden behind her curious eyes.

“I’m resigning, or requesting they don’t call me up. I don’t want to play for a federation that doesn’t care about me. I’m sorry I didn’t do it earlier, but I wasn’t ready and I’m sorry I’m bother you with it now but I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you about it earlier, I met with my lawyer for the first time today to sign the documents and write my statement. If it all goes to plan then they should be out in the next week. I don’t want to do it anymore, I can’t do it anymore, I’m sorry.”

Mapi blinked a few times, like you’d just blindsided her completely, and you figured you had.

“I didn’t even really know it was happening until after last camp, and I just realised that I was so exhausted and so tired and so sick of it all that I couldn’t do it again. I should have done it earlier, I should have been a part of it all from the start but I was scared and I still am scared Maps. This is supposed to be my job, I’m supposed to be grateful for the opportunities I’m given and yet I feel like I’m a fraud and I’m lying when I say that because I’m not grateful and I’m not happy and I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t. I’ve been praying every night that I get injured, so that I get a break like Ale, and I don’t want to feel like that anymore.”

Mapi just stood up and pulled you into her arms, silencing the rambling and making you realise that you were now crying again.

She slowly led you towards the couch, bringing you into her arms as you tried to take control of yourself.

It felt like every piece of anguish, every piece of fear, every piece of internal hatred was slowly being pulled from your body and it felt so good, like you were somehow being healed.

Mapi wiated until you were coherent enough, until you felt more resurfaced, and less like the bloodn was rushing through your ears and every though of self-doubt was spirally through the different ridges of your brain.

“Princesa, you’ve made this decision for you, si? Not because of me, not because of anybody else, because you believe this is best for you?”

You nodded into her chest, enjoying the feeling of your own skin pressed directly to hers.

“I’m sick of them making me feel this way Maps, I don’t like it, I don’t think it’s right.”

Mapi’s body was surrounding you, her scent, her feel, her everything, and it was all you’d needed today, everything that Alexia had assured you would make you feel better.

Mapi’s salad was forgotten on the counter.

Bagheera was somewhere else.

It was just the two of you, just the two of you to face everything.

“We’re put into boxes, as women, men try to make us be everything and yet nothing. It’s not right, we’re expected to be as good as the men, but we have to behave eloquently, say our pleases and thank yous and never be ungrateful for the piss poor conditions we put up with. We’re supposed to be passionate, but we’re not allowed to over react in any way. We can only underperform, not overperform. There are no expectations for us, because we’re women and we’re supposed to be worse than the men, but they’re are also so many expectations for us to meet. It’s okay for you to be done with that, there is nothing wrong with you saying no to constantly being abused. You’re not a fraud bebita and I’m here for you no matter what. You’re my girlfriend first, a person second and a soccer player last. It doesn’t matter, none of it matters, you matter, you’re feelings and how you feel is what matters.”

Mapi’s hand pulled your head from her neck, her lips connecting with your forehead with ease.

“I’m not doing it anymore Maps. I want to be strong, I want to say no. I want to be a part of the right side of history. I don’t want to sit around pretending everything’s fine when it’s not fine. It’s nowhere near fine and until there is a change it won’t be.”

Mapi nodded, pressing a series of kisses to your forehead.

“Then we’ll work it out, you’ll keep me in the loop and we’ll figure it out together, no more hiding these big feelings from me. We’ll go and see our therapists and take soe time off and do whatever you need to feel safe and happy, because what matters is you, nobody else, si?”

You nodded your head once again, enjoying the same smile that her face was covered in. her lips migrated down to your cheeks, pressing kisses to the rosiest parts, pushing the tears away.

“I’ve got you bebita, we’ve got each other, we’re going to be fine, we all are.”

#woso #woso community #sammykworshipper thoughts #barca femeni x reader #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas angst #barca femeni angst #woso angst #woso imagine #mapi leon is a golden retriever #idek what this is tbh #kinda hate it #erm yeah #woso fic #woso one shot #barca #barca women #barca femeni #fc barca #fuck the fred #fuck the spanish football federation

[writingwithcolor]

Author with cultural disconnect: How do I write without making it seem as if I hate my own heritage?

Anonymous asked:

I’m a white-passing Asian author, and I’ve never felt all that connected with my heritage. My current story centers on a fairy (re: fantasy-world POC) child and ends with her realizing that her parents are toxic af and her human best friend’s family takes her in. This is the perfect opportunity to sort through my own issues with my heritage and finally convince my monkey-brain that it’s okay to not know how to cook Vietnamese food or celebrate tet or speak Vietnamese… But I also realize that if I’m not careful, this could easily slip into “Hey, I hate my heritage and so should you!” So how can I stop that from happening?

Writing for yourself first, not an audience

I ask you a simple question: why put pressure on yourself to have any sort of non-offensive messaging for a story that hasn’t been drafted yet and is to convince your monkey brain it’s okay to exist as yourself?

That seems like the fastest way to stop the story from being actually cathartic and instead a performance art piece when you already feel hung up on performing as “properly” part of your culture.

As I said in Working Through Identity Issues and Other Pitfalls of Representation, not all stories you write need to be for public consumption. Especially stories you’re using for your own self-processing and therapy, because you’re trying to get a cathartic moment that is rewriting your own story.

At what point does the public need to be involved in that?

I do understand the compulsion to want to post—I have definitely posted some Questionable™ material in my drive to get validation for feeling the way I do, wanting people to witness me and say “same.” It’s a powerful urge. Sometimes it’s worked, but most of the time it’s just made me feel horrifically exposed.

But you really do not have to post in public to get any sort of validation. Set up a groupchat with friends if you want the cheerleading and witnessing—people who will know your story and give you good-faith interpretations and won’t accuse you of anything. Honestly I’d suggest setting up this groupchat anyway; as someone who just got one again after quite a few years without it, my productivity has skyrocketed from being around supportive people.

Let the monkey brain have its monkey brain moment and shut off the concept the story is for the public. Shut off the concept of performing for an unknown audience. It’s for you. Be authentic, no matter how bad it would look to outsiders. They’re not reading it. Part of getting catharsis, sometimes, is being the worst version of yourself, somewhere nobody else can see it.

Deciding to publish the work

If, after you do write it, you find that you actually do want to polish it up and put it somewhere… edit it. Rewrite it entirely if that’s what it takes. Take the story through the same drafting process every story needs to go through, ripping out the unfortunate implications as you go.

Editing can be its own form of healing, as you try to figure out what this character would need to not be hateful. As you realize, once this longform journal entry is out of your head, what was bothering you now that you can see it pinned down on a page. But you absolutely do not need to write with the intention of editing in that healing. When I’ve tried, it’s fallen flat.

The healing will come from being yourself, no public involved, and writing about your feelings in their rawest form. Anything else is extra.

There’s no point in trying to put guard rails on the drafting process, not for a deeply personal piece. And by the time that drafting process is done, you’ll likely have specific scenarios and contexts that you can ask about, and you might even have ideas on how to fix it yourself once the story has a shape to it.

This is 100% a situation where there’s no real sense in idea workshopping something in the plotting stage. You’re doing something for you. Decide if it’s for public consumption later (while acknowledging “no” is a perfectly valid answer), and only figure out how to make the story not overtly harmful if you decide to put it out into the public.

~ Leigh

#culture #cultural disconnect #creator responsibility #writing #authors of color #asks

[corazondebeskar-reads]

save your tears

Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 18 - too weak to move | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 1.1k

summary: What would have happened if you went with Joel and Ellie instead of staying in Jackson?

-- I cheated a little for this one but this is an alternate universe scene from "you know you never stood a chance" (spoiler warning). BUT this can be read as a standalone.

warnings: established situationship, canon-compliant-ish, canon-typical violence, description of wound, description of bodily fluids related to a wound, realistic thoughts about a survival situation, hunting and eating of animals

dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: this is what I call the silver lake alternate version. in my very early draft of the story, you did not stay in jackson. you got mad at Joel for abandoning Ellie and went to the stables in the morning, planning to go with Ellie and Tommy. The rest of the events happened as per canon. However, as I was writing this scene, it became quickly apparent that it was the wrong narrative choice. but just for fun, here's a snippet after Joel is wounded. (stay tuned in the end notes for the one single David line I wrote).

“You can’t shoot,” Ellie says. She won’t look at you. It’s not mean; it’s just another way you’re failing them. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be back,” she promises. 

You hate this. But there’s no time for self-loathing. What you can do instead is boil snow. 

You creep up to the main level of the house. When you’re sure it’s clear, you crawl through, trying to stay out of sight through any windows. You’re able to scrounge up a few containers of dubious origin and cleanliness but better than your two canteens. 

You light a fire in an old ration tin and prop a steel mixing bowl (the best find of the lot) on top. The first round of snow goes to scrubbing out the containers with an unfortunately large sliver from your bar of soap. 

It’s a loss, but you can’t risk putting dirty water on Joel’s wound. 

Once you have one clean bowl of water, you set another to boil and pull back his shirt and bandages. 

It’s bad. You know it, Ellie knows it, Joel knows it. But you have to try. You have to, or all three of you are dead. 

Well. Maybe not Ellie. She’s tough and capable. Maybe she could make it back to Tommy without you slowing her down. 

You have nothing remotely sterile, so you mentally set aside the next bowl of water for cleaning a scrap of fabric. For now, you try to flush the wound with a slow stream of warm water. 

You’ve been talking to him quietly, explaining to him what you were doing, though his consciousness is dubious at best today. But when you start to pour, his eyes snap open, and his hand flashes out to squeeze at the bones of your wrist. 

“Joel, it’s me, it’s just me,” you say quickly. His grip is grinding, and things are not going to be helped by a broken wrist. And you know it never really healed right, that breaking it a second time would mean it possibly never working the same again. You try not to panic. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper, and he seems to finally recognize you. His fingers loosen, but don’t let go. 

“I’m just trying to help,” you say. You feel like the basement is getting smaller, darker, like it might swallow you up. Someone is breathing shakily, and you’re humiliated to find out it’s you. 

His thumb rubs against your pulse for a moment. “Take Ellie and go,” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking. 

Instead of responding, you bring the canteen up to his mouth and let a little water drip into his mouth. His eyes close for a moment. 

He purses his lips too soon, a tiny shake to his head. 

“It’s okay, I’m boiling more, please drink.”

But he’s already passing back out. You reach up and stroke your fingers through his hair. It’s damp with sweat despite the crystalline spread of ice inside the windowpanes. 

Sweat is good, right? It means his body is burning the infection. At least, you think so. 

You pause to switch the water so you can get a clean rag. Maybe when Ellie gets back, you can try to ransack the other houses for anything of use. 

You wait until you have a full slate of clean water before you drink any. When it hits your tongue, you think you might cry. Pacing yourself is so hard. 

He wakes up again when you try to clean the wound with the fabric you’d torn from your ragged t-shirt. Every breath draws bile you have to swallow again and again, a fruitless endeavor that ends with you scrambling to throw up outside, terrified of introducing any other contaminants to his environment. 

When you scrub at the wound, he’s awake enough to struggle with the pain but not awake enough to be aware of what’s happening. So he tries to move away, to fight you off. 

It’s worth it, you tell yourself over and over. You’re able to get some of the dirt away with some soap, and some of the pus flows, but not enough. You don’t put pressure on it, afraid to push the infection deeper. 

The skin around his stitches is puffy, red, and oozing. Dread settles deep. You’re probably going to need to cut them and clean the wound. But not now; you can’t force yourself to at this moment. Plus, you might need Ellie to help in case he tries to fight it. 

Instead, you use a clean corner of the rag to wipe dirt from his face and another to try and drip a little more water into his mouth. Suppressing a sob, you press your lips to the burning skin of his forehead. 

Ellie comes back a few hours later and a few rabbits richer. She’s skinned and prepped them when she comes inside, and you set to boiling the meat and bones. 

The two of you eat the meat, and you spend the rest of the evening trying to drip broth into Joel’s mouth. 

It turns into a rhythm. Joel doesn’t get worse, but he doesn’t get better. Sometimes, he wakes and tries to convince you to leave again, to take Ellie and abandon him. Neither of you are very tolerant of his arguments. 

Once, when you’re alone, he seems a little lucid. Ellie is out checking traps, and you’re sitting helplessly next to Joel, sniffling. You’ve got squirrel boiling in the little can fire, but it takes a long time, leaving you with little to do but wait. 

“Why’re ya cryin’, sweetheart?” His voice cracks from disuse, and he tries to clear his throat. 

You’re up on your knees with the canteen to his lips in an instant. He drinks a little and swats it away, reaching a shaky hand to cup your cheek and brush away a tear with his thumb. 

“I know y’ain’t cryin’ over me,” he scolds. 

It only makes you cry harder, though you scramble to choke it back. You peel his hand from you, holding it for a moment in both of yours before giving it a gentle squeeze and placing it back on the mattress. 

“Let me get you some broth,” you mumble, wiping your eyes on your dusty sleeves. 

He lets you feed him a little. 

“C’mere,” he says when you’ve reluctantly stowed the broth. He tugs you to his uninjured side, and you have to squeeze your eyes tight as you gently curl to him. “Remember when you used to be a good girl and do whatever I’d tell ya?”

“We’re not leaving you, Joel.” You’re so tired of this conversation. Actually, you realize as his heat seeps through your clothes, you’re just so tired. 

“Even though I was gonna leave you?”

“Shit, you’re right,” you say and watch exasperatedly as he has the nerve to look a little hopeful. “You nearly leavin’ me behind in the safest place you know is the same thing as leavin’ you to rot in a random filthy basement.”

“Stubborn brat,” he grumbles before he falls back into a fitful sleep.

BONUS — The one line I wrote for a scene with David:

“something rude,” says David.

*title from "Save Your Tears" by The Weeknd

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #febuwhump #fic: you know you never stood a chance

[ellievickstar]

Only You (Xavier Thorpe x Fem!Reader)

A/N: I drafted this whole thing in English class. In my notebook. On the spot. I was like: Oh this is cool and I started writing the basic details so this is a more defined version of what I wrote in that notebook. I think this was a super cool idea and definitely one of my better ones. 

Summary: The Addams twins are the newest addition to Nevermore Academy, a school for outcast. Y/N Addams soon learns that nothing is as it seems. 

Inspiration: I didn’t have one this time. 

Request: Not requested, unless I count my brain.

Parts: Part 2 /…

Warnings: Near-death, music-loving reader, thoughts of torture, mentions of pain, magic, mystical creatures. 

(Not my gif) 

~*~*~*~*~

As Wednesday’s twin sister you were supposed to keep her out of trouble. Despite that, you had to admit that you were almost as bad at Wednesday. You were different where you preferred archery to fencing and you preferred music to writing. Socialising was also something that you could do if need be while Wednesday liked to do things with you or on her own. 

This time, however, it was definitely your idea to put piranhas in the pool. It wouldn’t be your first time getting expelled but the disappointment in your Mother’s eyes were palpable. You focused your gaze on the principal as she began to speak. 

“Well, we don’t usually accept students mid-term, but given that they both have perfect grades, I managed to convince the school board to give you both a shot,” She smiled but it slowly faded as you and Wednesday stared at her with no reaction. She soon led us to the dormitories where me and Wednesday would be sharing a room with someone else. Usually, it was two girls to a room, however, it was requested that the two off you share a room with someone else, just to keep an eye on both of you at the same time. 

The girl was Enid, and she was interesting, to say the least. Trying to hug the both of you, and rainbow every where. You scoffed at the thought as you stepped out from the bathroom after changing into your black school uniform, another thing that had been specially requested. 

“Eek you look so cute,” She said as she looked up and down, she leaned forward for a hug but you stepped out of her reach. “I’m sorry, Wednesday and I aren’t that used to touching others,” you apologised and she nodded with understanding. Once Wednesday stepped out, Enid begun to show the both of you around. 

It was all quite pleasant, until an ignorant boy named Ajax came your way. 

“Enid, you’d never guess what I heard about your roommates, they said that she eats the people that she kills,” Enid tried to smile awkwardly before side-stepping to show you and Wednesday behind her. You frowned as Wednesday gave a clipped answer about how she fed the body parts to your pet spiders. The boy paled and quickly walked away, coward. 

~*~*~*~*~

You and Wednesday finally finished the tour and began to walk together to the front of the school to bid your family goodbye. Without turning your head, you spoke to your sister, “What do you think?” Her scowl deepened, clearly unhappy with the question. That’s when you heard it. 

I think I better start plotting our escape. You stopped, as you gaped at your sisters unopened mouth. “Did you say anything?” You asked, convinced that you were going insane. “No, did it happen again?” She asked, as she paused and turned to you. You nodded before readjusting your posture and continuing down the hall with your sister. 

You had been plagued by these voices, other peoples thoughts, you realised. You didn’t know how, but you could hear certain thoughts of people. It came randomly and you couldn’t control it. When you told your sister she had confessed that she too, had been confronted with visions. Different, yet they both started to occur a few months ago.

Soon, you were in front of your mother as she smiled sweetly at you and Wednesday. “I hope you will find to love Nevermore, as I did,” She sighed as she looked at teh school with so much nostalgia it made you sick. “I will never be like you, mother,” Wednesday said, “I will never grow up, find love, or have a family,” Mother sighed at Wednesday’s harsh words. Though I agreed with Wednesday, she could have been gentler with her words. 

“I was told that girls your age say harsh things and that I shouldn’t take it to heart,” Mother swallowed. You shot her an apologetic look. That’s when she bent down and whispered, “If you try running away, I have already told all family members to call me the second you show up on their doorstep, don’t test me, the both of you,” You blinked once without any indication of a reaction, “You are cruel mother,” You said. And she smiled, turning to leave. 

It soon began to rain and your lips twitched a little. What wonderful weather to go with your less then pleasant day. Wednesday nodded to you as she left for fencing and you nodded back as you turned to leave for the music room. 

While Wednesday played the cello, you played violin from a young age. You dreamed to be as good and make music as well known in the future as Niccolò Paganini’s caprice 24, or his La Campanella.  You grabbed your violin which you had left on the floor before tuning and playing your favourite pieces. 

When you had finished Beethoven’s Spring Sonata, movement 4, you heard slow clapping from the door. You turned to see the school’s artist, Xavier. You remembered him from his grandmother’s funeral a few years back when he had somehow gotten himself stuck in her casket and was nearly burnt alive. Wednesday thought it would have been funny, however, you slammed the button at hot prevented the casket from being any nearer to the incinerator. 

Last you recalled, Xavier had been in your debt ever since. 

“You’ve grown a lot taller since we last met,” You pointed out as you bent to keep your violin. He chuckled and the sound made your heart flutter. Strange. Maybe you should go visit the nurse later to see if something was perhaps wrong. He began to talk but you tuned him out as you walked towards Wednesday’s fencing class.

It was only when you saw your sister swiftly exiting her class did you finally pay attention to you surroundings. You walked towards her before you heard crumbling above you and saw a stone gargoyle tumbling towards you, broken off from the roof. 

At least you’d have an imaginative death, you thought before you closed your eyes, the last thing you remember was being pushed and you name being called as you gave into the darkness. 

~*~*~*~*~

Your eyes flung open and you sat up instantaneously, scanning your surroundings. You’re sister sat on your left as she placed a hand on yours, showing that she was here for you. You looked to your right and saw Xavier, gaping at the small amount of physical contact given by my sister. 

You glared at him and he quickly shut his mouth. You looked back at my sister as I asked her what happened. 

“I was exiting the fencing class feeling self-pity when I saw you walking towards me and noticed that a gorgon was going to fall onto you, that’s when Xavier pushed you out of the way,” You looked at Xavier and back at my sister. “Please tell him that if he’s looking for some kind of damsel to fall for his heroic acts, then he’s saved the wrong person,” You deadpanned. Wednesday nodded and stared at Xavier, awaiting for his response. He just rolled his eyes as he mumbled about how someone usually just said ‘thank you’. 

You ignored him as you were helped up by your sister, you shifted you head slightly, showing your thanks, she blinked back her answer. You both exited but you paused a few steps from the door, poking back, you could have sworn that you heard that familiar tapping of fingers. 

You turned to your sister and saw her doing the same as she eyed the same spot you were just looking at. She glanced at you and you shrugged before following your sister back to Ophelia hall where you would be making some adjustments to your room. 

~*~*~*~*~

The rest of your day was interesting, to summarise, Enid and Wednesday argued like dogs and cats, Ms Thornhill interrupted and gifted you and Wednesday flowers, the you found Xavier again, spoke to each other — though it seemed that something was on his mind — before he rushed off and you returned to your room. 

Your sister was typing away at her type writer when you entered, the sound of ruffling sheets caught you attention, and Wednesday instantly stopped typing. You lifted the sheets of your own bed to see thing. You glared the hand and grabbed it while it seemed to shriek and try and grab the mattress. 

“You have two options,” You threatened, passing the hand to your sister while she opened a drawer. She calmly, slowly began to lower the hand as she continued your sentence, “We can lock you in this drawer for the rest of the year, you will try and crawl your way out as you are driven crazy, your nails slowly becoming bloody and battered at your failed attempts,” She blinked once at you and you smiled, thee smile was small like and adders as you approached like a wolf surveying it’s prey. “Or, you can pledge your undying loyalty to us and help us escape,” Thing frantically nodded. Wednesday closed the drawer and set thing down on the table, and so he began to pledge his loyalty. 

“Now,” You started again as you let your smile drop, “How an we escape this hell?” And for a second, you could have sworn that your sister’s lips twitched up in answer. 

~*~*~*~*~

You decided to go for a walk around the school campus, that was when you spotted a rundown shed. You entered slowly before you realised that Xavier was inside, painting… 

“What is that,” You asked as he jumped slightly at the sound of your voice. You approached the canvas gingerly. He looked back at you and to the canvas as he sighed. “I don’t know,” He admitted, “I get these visions, every night of his monster, and it’s s overwhelming, so I just…paint,” He gestured to the large canvas where the monster was staring menacingly, it’s large mouth was open, showing it’s menacing fangs. 

That’s when disaster struck. 

The second he waved his hand, the monster came alive as it reached out and scratched Xavier’s neck. You stepped back, shocked that Xavier would let the monster come to life. “I thought you had control of your power,” You said as you rushed to get a clean cloth near-by. He pointed to a medical kit he kept by a bed. You grabbed some bandages and cleaning solutions to clean the fresh wounds. You stood in front of him and peered up at his neck, that was when you realised he was too tall. 

“Sit down,” You ordered. He chuckled as you grabbed a stool for him to sit down. “You’re short,” “No you’re just tall, who the hell is 6 feet these days,” You snapped back. Since you were feeling annoyed, you didn’t warn him before pressing the alcohol covered cloth to the cut. He hissed and bit his cheek as he clutched the edge of the stool. A snort slipped out as you continued to clean the cut. 

“Was that a laugh, Ms Addams?” He tried to look back but you slapped the back of his head, making him laugh, again. “Tell anyone and they wouldn’t believe you, and I will bury you alive,” You threatened. 

And that’s how you spent the rest of the night, laughing and making jokes with Xavier. Well, he made jokes and you laughed, but only a little. 

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: They are SO CUTE!!!! What do you think? I think I’m in love. This is only the first part, but I plan to recreate the whole series with YN Addams inside. I think it would be a fun way to practice my writing and get a better understanding of every character before season 2. 

Tag list: @poppet05​ @cityofidek​ @write-from-the-heart​ (If you want to be tagged please specify if it is for all Xavier fics or just this series) 

#Wednesday Addams #Wednesday character’s x reader #Wednesday series #wednesday #wednesday twin sister #y/n addams #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x reader fluff

[solar-tl-27]

HEY

Whoah I’m posting

All by myself ??

Woah woah woah woah! I am here to show SOME art!

A while ago the announcement of the next pokemon game came out! And with my favorite region returning there was only one thing I could possibly do!

Hyperfixate on my own oc lore in the Pokémon universe so much that once again i’ll only be disappointed by the game in the end lol. So…. Let’s talk about them!

This will be a collection of some of my older art to finally end up on the most recent art i just finished so if u don’t care about Pokémon plz scroll down and appreciate my art ( ToT )

Ok so! I always make original characters to be my protagonist is Pokémon games so when x& y came out i created a character named colette

A woman in her mid 20’s that I totally 100% didn’t oc x canon ship with the villain (i did)

A looong time skip later pokemon sword shield came out which led to the continuation of the colette storyline!

With her daughter Pandora and her friends! Causing the creation of joshua & sapphire (the original image is definitely created with bases so credit to pokemon for the original art & selenaede for the bases)

(Draft didn’t save here so aha sob)

They have been through several versions since then, all slightly different over time

You had pandora: a smart and elegant young girl and the protagonist

Joshua: the nerdy one but also the one that helps everyone no matter what

Saphie: the one who likes cute things and fashion

They were pretty basic characters and evolved but this is theee base line of their characters up until their last design

Just 3 teens on an adventure

BUT NOW

Timeee skip babyyy the return of Colette’s home means i wanna drag her daughter there!

The teens are now young adults! Trying to figure out what they wanna do in life and i can FINALLY MAKE BIG CHANGES TO SOME OF THEM

Let’s goo!

Their outfits are loosely based on the pokemon xyz legendary Pokémon but i also wanted them to be able to stand on their own!

They are now young adults trying to figure out what they want to do with their life and having a change of scenery so

Let’s get into it!

Saphie

Saphie’s finally got his cute accessories back!! He’s finally got a cutesy outfit which suits his style and iiii finally got rid of the side shave going for a complete adorable vibe for him instead. With bows, beads and a new cute hairstyle he’s finally ascended to adorable! He’s easily home sick and going with his friends on this journey sure is a big change. Someone who’s unsure of his future but knows he always has his friends to rely on!

Joshua

Joshua is definitely still the nerdy one, he’s got the clearest vision of what he wants his life to be, not always understanding his friends but always trying to be supportive. His style is definitely the one that changed over time, leaving the nerdy studious look behind to try something new!

His friends definitely chose this outfit for him and it’s actually the closest he’s been to his oc predecessor as he was actually recycled. Sadly that art has been lost to type but, before he was joshua from this group he was joshua a character who was definitely a lot more edgy and artistic. I wanted to bring that back with this design and I personally think i did his original design justice.

Pandora

Pandora always changes the least, her design has always been clear to me in ways but i did want to try new things. Finally deciding i cant choose between the 2 eye colors she’s had I decided i don’t have to choose SO I JUST GAVE HER BOTH. Putting her into something that’s just her style but also trying different colors she’s now more confident and determined, she’s on this journey to learn more about her family and try to choose what direction to take her life in.

Proud to see her friends figure out who they are but also sometimes feels like depending on what choices she makes could have them drift apart. Having to remind herself to have fun on the trip as well she’s probably the one who’s choices will make the biggest difference in what her life will end up being. A true protagonist with issues to deal with and secrets to uncover!

Thank u forrr looking at my little art post!

Now! I have a secret for all my winx people

Guess who’s back in the building again teehee

Ok bye bye!

#art #oc art #oc artwork #pokemon original character #pokemon oc #pokemon art

[xaharadesert]

Kidnapped MC Turned Bandit Leader - Headcanon Pt 1

Julian Devorak x MC

TW: like 1 swear

A/N: this is another year old, pretty specific anon request that I’m only now getting to. The essential premise that was requested was for MC to be kidnapped, only to show up a few months later totally fine and leading a group of bandits— the initial request asked for Julian, Portia, and Asra, but since there’s a lot of content to cover, I’ll be splitting this into 3 parts :) also, special shout out to the two anons who both sent me some version of “hydrate or die” within moments of each other— also also everyone say thank you to the anon who said they bet I couldn’t finish this draft even though I’ve been staring at it for ten minutes, you’re the real MVP here

❤️Julian❤️

When you initially went missing, this man obviously went into no-sleep panic mode

He immediately swore to search every corner of the Earth until you were found

Nadia convinced him to stay put for at least a few days, since it was unlikely that you could be taken far in a short period of time, and her guards were more likely to find you than he was alone

Shockingly, this was one of the exceedingly rare instances in which Nadia was wrong

Her guards did not find you, and this only increased Julian’s ungodly level of panic

He hadn’t slept since you were taken, save for the 16 hours he was passed out after smacking his head into a low doorway while pacing

Honestly, he wasn’t even borderline delirious, this man had passed clearly into hysteria territory

So needless to say, he began his travels to find you

However, with no clear direction, and no clues to go off of, the nonexistent trail quickly grew cold

The countless letters from his friends in Vesuvia were what brought him back, and even then, it was mostly Nadia’s point that if you were to ever escape of your own accord, you would likely make your way home

When he returned, his mental health only continued to decline

He felt useless— he couldn’t do anything to help you; all he did was sit and wait, and it was driving him insane

The only times he could be dragged out of his home were when Portia or Mazelinka made him

For a usually sociable man with a tendency to hide his self hatred behind humour and charisma, this was a terrifying change

He made absolutely no attempt to move on with his life, and insisted that everyone should leave him to wallow

Of course, they did not

It was on one of the rare occasions that Portia managed to pull him out to the Rowdy Raven that you finally returned

Honestly, he thought he was hallucinating until Portia confirmed his hopes by asking “Holy shit, is that them?!”

You looked completely fine; in fact, you looked like you were having fun

Julian still couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and stared, open-mouthed, as he tried to process that, yes, this was really you

(Portia gave him a little shove to get him started)

When your eyes locked with his, he felt all the excitement and anxiety of new love all over again. It was like all the emotions that he had felt over the months that you were gone came crashing back into him all at once

So needless to say, it was a tearful reunion, especially on his part

You didn’t stay at the tavern much longer than that; Julian really wasn’t in the right headspace for drinking or chatting with friends

The two of you went him, with him clinging to you like a koala

Obviously you were in for a long night of explaining yourself

He listened to every detail, never interrupting

Once your story was finished, he felt his heart settle in a way that it hadn’t since you left

And of course, with that sense of calm came all the exhaustion of having the world’s worst sleep schedule

He wanted to pass out immediately, preferably in bed beside you, but first, he had a few choice things to say to you

One, how dare you have such an amazing adventure without him?

Two, how dare you risk your life with bandits for months?

Three, how dare you do all of the above without contacting him?

And finally four, he loves you so so so much, please never scare him like that again, and obviously he doesn’t blame you for being kidnapped because that’s not your fault so please don’t blame yourself, but also please come home faster and don’t get involved with bandits, because believe him, he’s been down that road and it can get really messy really quick, and while he knows you can take care of yourself he really doesn’t want you to get hurt without him even knowing

He got a bit ramble-y at the end, but he was so tired that he really couldn’t process his own grammar

He asked you to come to bed, which the promise that you would talk more thoroughly in the morning when he could think properly again

And by morning, he meant like 24 hours later, because this man was practically in a coma

Later on, he would ask to meet the members of your bandit crew

He phrased it as wanting to “meet your friends”, but really he was heavily judging them to decide whether or not you were safe with them

Julian isn’t really known for being on the right side of the law, so he wouldn’t dare lecture you for your legal choices, but he does need to know that you’re being relatively safe

If this is the life you want to lead, then obviously he’s coming with you

Seeing you happy, and being with you, was more than enough for him

#the arcana #arcana #the arcana game #the arcana headcanon #the arcana hc #julian devorak #julian arcana #Julian x mc #Julian headcanon #Julian hc #the arcana Julian #tw swearing #Julian x apprentice

[morvantmortuary]

it’s my mom’s birthday today!! 🎉

she told me she wanted to read the mortuary recently, when she let me infodump about the Morvants last, so as part of her birthday presents I spent the day compiling a readable draft of the October Arc for her

part of this was editing out the pretty blatant smut, because like. I know in theory that when I publish the manuscript version with Blair as the Final Them, any of my family members could pick that shit up and get a whole eyeful of the inside of my brain!!

…but I still feel a little odd handing all the smut I’ve written to my mom while the story’s still in like. second person. :’D she knows I ~write horror erotica~ but like. she can just know that in theory.

that means though there’s a lot of moments in different chapters where I leave an authors note that look like:

[More fooling around, but I wanted the scene to establish that Maxi is very meticulous about asking what pronouns his person prefers that day and checking before he touches anything that could cause dysphoria]

so that way at least she gets the broad emotional strokes of the scene, but not like, the other strokes.

I know we’re both adults, and so does she, but like!! still!! idk, call me sensitive, but I don’t need her to have that much info about my praise kink or my blood kink or my knife kink :’D y’know?

anyway, the other major change I had to consider was that the October Arc as it exists here started with a kind of random oneshot that eventually spawned a whole plot, which definitely feels a little random when you don’t have the context of “here’s my new oc guys!!” lmao.

so I actually wound up re-cutting lovesong so all the flashbacks to the meet cute in the graveyard and y’all’s first date are actually their own chapters that come first, with tear you apart actually coming in as chapter four. I also cut spellbound (reprise) in halves, and put Hex and Rora’s detour to recover Sky’s body in there so she could spend more time with them too.

all this to say, with the entire October Arc plus “and absolutely no one’s dead” as the epilogue, even minus the smut, the .pdf clocked in at about —

450ish pages? :’D

now, that might just be bc I had the font set a little bigger than normal to help my mom’s eyes, but I don’t know that it would’ve made that much of a difference? I might reset it with a different font and see what happens

point is, though, if I’m going to try to pitch the manuscript version to a publisher one day (if I don’t try to self-publish through mine and my friend’s small press but that’s a whole other story), I might, uh. Might have to consider making the October Arc two books instead, if I don’t go back and edit down a lot. :’D we’ll see.

all this to say, thank you to everyone who’s been kind enough to read through the whole saga with us, and are still here 🖤🖤🖤 y’all are wonderful, and I hope your holidays are being cooperative so far 🥰 I’ll be trying to catch up on correspondence between now and xmas, once my word reservoir fills back up again!!

we love y’all always, and we look forward to sharing what comes next with you too ♥️💜💚

#and then rarae says #I’ll report back if my mom says anything about it! #but it takes her forever to read anything I give her so I won’t hold my breath #(affectionate. mostly :’D)

[bettsfic]

I finally tried the “if you’re having trouble writing a scene, first write the worst possible draft” and holy shit! What a lifesaver! I’ve been putting off this scene, totally intimidated by everything it has to do; by giving myself permission to write the obvious (no obfuscation, no embellishment) it all came pouring out and most of it I’m actually super happy with! Now to try this with all the other scenes I’ve been putting off (I.e. the second half of the book 😂 )

i'm so glad to hear it! when it comes down to it, i really don't think anyone can expect their brain to create a whole scene in one go, you know? like sometimes you need to write the bad version just to figure out what happens, then you need to rewrite it to make it sound decent, and then (for me anyway) rewrite it again at least once more after the whole project is finished.

also "permission to write the obvious" is a great way of putting it. sometimes when i get stuck i just ask myself "what do i know so far?" and write that down, and then try to carve out the specifics of what i don't know and tackle those next.

thank you for sharing!

#writing advice

[loveislandthegame]

finally, my thoughts on todays volume ! first, let me say that was a damn mess. i had to replay . i was going to wait for the next recoupling, until i realised that you get partially locked out of your OG LI’s route if you picked the vicky/bonnie/OG LI option during the uma convo (such false advertising)

for example, this middle dialogue option didn’t appear when i was with vicky (i chose it out of curiosity, but ended up replaying cus i don’t like it)

imo, that’s awesome if you want to focus on the girls/the guys to stop bothering you, but they should’ve made that more clear. i want rafael back (and the islanders acknowledging we’re still together, in an unofficial couple) so i had to pick the evan/travis/OG LI option. FB cant code for shit. moving on:

the audacity of this man . i took every possible disinterested/mean-ish/”i want to be with rafa” choice & he still behaves like this. FB once again wasting such cute sprites on bullshit 😭

movie night was … certainly a movie night ! i posted the vicky version i got. can’t put every screenshot here because mobile tumblr has an image limit, but the travis version was even more ridiculous. a conversation where my MC was clearly not showing interest in him? thank you evan for being the only islander with common sense

fun fact, in my draft i wrote about how i was glad travis wasn’t like “🥺 that conversation was special to me MC,” but little did i know… 🤦

the evan date was nice, i like him a lot, but my head won’t be getting turned in this playthrough !! rafa apologises for getting jealous over literally nothing, we kiss and make up. everything’s gucci.

overall the volume wasn’t too bad, but MC’s movie night clip was aggravating as somebody that’s on a loyal route, we had the option to defend ourselves but it was half-assed. i wish we could borrow s1 MC’s backbone and tell OG LI’s ex to wind her neck in

(plus i’m disappointed i cant stay with vicky😭)

#love island the game #litg #litg stick or twist #litg s7 #litg spoilers #spoilers

[crescencestudio]

Devlog #27 | 01.24.23

Hi everyone!

Wow, it’s been a while! I didn’t realize how long it’s been until I had to go searching for the last devlog to see what my progress has been since then LOL. I hope you all have been well and that 2023 has been kind to you so far <3 

Before we start, I wanted to show our holiday art in case anyone missed it! For the end of the year, we met Fenir under the mistletoe and many people gave him kissies (someone also grabbed his face).

We also wanted to celebrate Lunar New Year with bunny Aisa 🥰

Now for the actual updates. I’ll put them below the cut, so I’m not clogging up everyone’s feed! 

Writing

Last time we talked, I said I was making headway on Druk’s first draft. That was a lie LMAO. I’ve switched from Druk to Fenir and have been spending most of my time getting Fenir’s first draft finished. I am VERY close to finishing the first draft��I only have one chapter left.

I think by the time the first draft will be finished, we’ll be sitting at around 30k words; however, this is before I’ve put in things like fun little romance scenes, choices and branches, etc. So Fenir’s route is shaping up to be in a similar range to Kayn’s \o/

Regarding Kayn’s route, we are sitting at 50k+ words wee! I’m super happy with where the script is at right now, especially for it being the developmental phase ^^

Art

golden hour in alaris ✨ 

In general, the BGs needed for the demo are wrapping up. Because I anticipated this part to take the longest (since there’s just SO many BGs), it means I’m going to be balancing more of my focus on the updated demo as well—focusing more on updating the CGs, coding the soundtrack and VA in, updating the script a bit, cleaning that godforsaken bug, etc. I don’t have a solid estimate on when the updated demo will be ready, but I will update you all immediately when I do <3 

Recently, Vui finished up Etza’s room as well as the Market date BG. He also has been working on the Cafe BG, which in my biased opinion looks sososoosososo cute. I just have the sketch right now, and because of Lunar New Year, he is on a (much deserved) break. But I’m very excited to show you all (because obviously I’m going to show you because I have no impulse control and I get excited over everything) the final product! 

kayn’s updated demo cg

I’ve continued to work on CGs. Some of it has been updating demo CGs, while some of it has been working on CGs for Kayn’s route. As you can see, with updated ones, my style has changed a lot since the demo. So I’ve slowly been going back in for each of the LIs demo CGs and updating them! It hasn’t been too bad, but I am nervous about the duo ones lmao. I’m not very good at composition that involves more than one subject, so we’ll see how those go ha... ha...

I sat down and actually planned out and did the math for the CGs required for Kayn’s route, and it’s looking like it’ll be around 8-10! Because this amount will be consistent across routes, it means the final CG number for Alaris will be around 48-60 CGs. Looking at that number makes me want to cry a bit, but I know I’ll be working on these throughout the entire year, so it hopefully won’t feel as overwhelming as it looks on paper.

I have most of the sketches finished for Kayn’s CGs (and even some sketches/finished pieces for some of the other LIs), and it honestly hasn’t been too painful of a process, so hopefully it stays that way lol! 

Additional Notes

Something I’ve had to start thinking about is getting beta testers again.  I bring this up mainly because once Kayn’s route finishes the developmental phase, I’m going to start creating the beta version of their route. Additionally, the new demo will need beta testers.

I’m realizing now with the scope of Alaris, I’ll probably need.... a lot lol. The Alaris demo has a bug that didn’t come up for my beta testing team but has affected some players, and the bug literally makes a part of me die every time I think about it. The demo was much smaller in scope compared to the full game, and I kept the beta testing team small because I didn’t think I would have to make it super super big. But now, I’m realizing the more people involved with the beta testing process, the better so I can ensure a cleaner product.

I’m still not sure how I’ll go about “recruiting” beta testers. It will most likely be a tier available in the upcoming Patreon, but aside from that, I’ll have to give it more consideration!

“Market Research”

And then of course I have been playing visual novels and simping---who do you think I am?? I recently finished V’s route in Mystic Messenger. Wow, that was a ride LOL. I don’t actually have anything drawn up for him, but the experience was so wild, I felt the need to share anyways. 

I started playing Piofiore, though! I’ve surprisingly been enjoying it. Nicola is my bbg. I only have Dante and Gilbert’s routes left, so we’ll see if one of them changes anything!

It was also Toasty’s birthday recently, and while I hadn’t planned on drawing anything to celebrate, I did because a sleepy Toasty was too powerful to ignore. 

#alaris #devlog

[bvannn]

Weekly update March 22, 2024

I’m still exhausted beyond words. I’m also on a bit of a spiral where I’m worried about the quality of my art and about my output, but it’s okay because I’m chipping away at old big projects still and as soon as classwork is subsided I’m going to try to learn a new skill, because any time I feel insufficient I learn a new skill so I can be better. Classes have been kicking my ass mostly but hopefully big things will be coming sooner rather than later.

I’ve been doing a number of drawings to time myself and update my comms. Turns out I’m a lot less consistent than I thought so it’ll be a bit longer till I get prices sorted out but it’s coming along. Also good chance I’ll add more on to it later once I sort out more things I can offer. My usual drawing style will be the main one, but I’m hoping I can also add the epithet erased style, the chibi dnd mini style I do sometimes, options for backgrounds, and eventually also music.

Problem with music though has been my exhaustion. The only music stuff I’ve really been drilling at has been bigger projects, but I’d like to just sit down and do a small beat as well at some point. Once I catch up with classwork I might try. I have been chipping away at a couple instrumental pieces, as well as the larger vocal cover and I did some lyric writing today for the two ‘finished mostly’ ones I’ve been sitting on. I did have to scrap and redo a character theme for the second time this week but once I have some time with a clear mind I can reroute that one and use the melody I wrote for the last draft. In development right now are an ambient character theme, a 16bit-ish instrumental theme, a Zelda medley, a song cover with Kyo, a small gabber song with no affiliation to anything, the two original vocal songs, one symphonic rock and one EDM, and a handful of others that I haven’t been actively working on. As soon as I have significant time I’m going to try to finish off some of them.

Once the music is finished I’ll have to throw visuals together for them too. I really want to put in effort to make animation rigs again but I don’t have the time or energy. I might do one for the vocal cover song since I could be reusing the character but I’m not sure it’ll be necessary. Once the cover is done I’ll storyboard something and decide then.

Comic is also still going, I haven’t had a ton of time to do thumbnailing/writing, but I should be down to the last scene. No guarantee I won’t have to add more after editing, but it’s getting there. Once that’s done I’ll try to post roughs of specific panels so it’s a bit easier to keep track of where it’s at. The thumbnailing is a big bottleneck right now because it takes a lot of brain power but it’s almost done. If I get myself together this next week it should be done by the next update. No promises though, I have a lot of classwork.

Last couple things, a good amount of my exhaustion is the result of insomnia, but I’ve been using that time to plan out TTRPG campaign stuff. I think I have some really fun creative encounters. I think I probably will try to write it out and find a way to release it, just in the interest of getting more people to play the anime campaign system (or whatever they end up renaming it to when the epithet erased version of the rules drops… eventually). I might throw together art for that too, but that’ll be a ways off, after the writing and encounters are done. Plus ideally I’d want the module to be available for free, so I don’t need to add too much anyway.

Last thing, as I mentioned I’m a bit unsatisfied with where I am with art stuff. I want to thank everyone who has been sticking around, I am trying to make it worthwhile for you too. But whenever I am unsatisfied with myself I need to learn a new skill, so I may be dipping my toes into pixel art soon. I do have that 16bit ish instrumental song I mentioned, that’s been on the back burner since January but I’ve finally been hit with the inspiration to finish it, and a little pixel animation would be nice to go with it, but that would require me to learn pixel art itself first, so I’ll try to do that in the coming weeks. Idk how soon though.

This next week will be primarily dedicated to clearing up schoolwork and fixing my sleep problem. After that I’ll try finishing up that cover song, finishing up comic thumbnailing, and finishing up that instrumental song, in that order. Anything else is a bonus. Will class work and insomnia get in the way? Probably, but I’m still doing my best.

#weekly update

[kayfarafey]

This is the previous anon who loves your posts. Thank you so much the post made me very happy :) baroryuu still isn't my cup of tea but I still enjoy reading your thoughts about them. If I wanted anything written, I'd love some iris and barok bonding drabble if that isn't too much to ask. Again, thanks so much I'm about to spontaneously combust out of happiness <3

dear god. anon forgive me i have no excuse for leaving this for so long. genuinely started your drabble, did not finish it, and then left this to rot in my drafts like some kind of uncivilized beast. so i also have a barok and iris scene for you from a fic im never going to finish, and i hope that's enough family bonding material for you to forgive the discourtesy of my bullshit. you might not even follow me anymore, but just know i never forgot about you.

“Uncle.”

Barok doesn’t look up, focusing on finishing his sentence. “Yes, niece,” he says, matching the exasperation in her voice with the intent to tease. When the scratching of his quill pen ceases with a flourish, he looks up at Iris—her arms are crossed over her chest and her cheeks are puffed out. He cannot fathom whyfor, and dutifully puts his work aside; he will be unable to return his attention to it when he encounters whatever the cause of his usual tenderhearted and tolerant niece’s frustration is—for it will soon become his own frustration, and a headache he will need to medicate. “Are you all right? What’s happened?”

“I’m all right,” she says, and at once the fight leaves her and her shoulders slump. “But Uncle, I’ve hardly seen you! It’s been days since I sent you that telegram.”

She had indeed sent him a telegram almost a week prior, imploring him to Baker Street for tea, but he was unfortunately unable to attend as he was in the midst of an extremely demanding investigation. He was remorseful, of course, but also embarrassed to admit the invitation had slipped his mind in the face of his work, and he neglected to reschedule with her. And, he recalls now with a sudden bolt of horror, this has become a pattern with previous invitations—at least the past three.

Though it is justified, it is always a lamentable day when Iris is frustrated with him. This is not a problem Barok can fix with a few choice words and an icy glare—his reflection in the mirror is no longer cowed by such elementary tactics.

“Please forgive the discourtesy of neglecting you, my dear,” Barok says. He bows his head, calculating what he might procure to make his unintentional slight up to her. “I will not attempt to excuse my ungraciousness.”

Iris sighs, her bright blue eyes downcast. “I understand you’re busy,” she says softly. “Everyone is very busy... Ginny’s busy being an Inspector, and Mary is busy because she’s the coroner, and Kazu’s busy with his cases, and Daddy and I are busy too. But that doesn’t mean—” Abruptly, Iris raises her gaze to fix him with a determined stare. “—that we don’t all need a break!”

Iris, now thirteen years of age, resembles her mother more and more each day. It is a solemn reminder that she has never and will never know Lady Baskerville, despite just how much she shares her face and attitude. As her features finally relinquish the fat of childhood they expose the high cheekbones so often prominent on those of aristocratic blood, and in the slight uptilt of her nose—the way it wrinkles when she laughs—the remnants of Eliza Baskerville remain. When Barok first met his sister-in-law, he was no older than his niece is right now, and Eliza was of age with Klimt, but he can imagine a more youthful version of the woman. Truly, he doesn’t have to imagine it; she stands before him. Even the way she holds herself, the confidence and certainty, the kindness threaded through her arguments, comes from her blood.

But her ever-increasing height and her clever eyes... Those are things Klimt has left her.

As recently as a year ago, such thoughts would have sent a shock of pain through him. Two years ago, the pain would have been debilitating. Now, he allows it to tug at him for only a moment before he releases it, turning his full attention back to the living.

Raising an eyebrow, Barok asks, “And what do you suggest?”

“We’re having supper tonight!” Iris declares. “All of us. Everyone.”

“Everyone.” He cannot help but roll that word around on his tongue. It seems at once intimidating—the Baker Street suite is not meant to hold a crowd of people, but he still refuses to allow Herlock Sholmes to invade his manor—and inaccurate. The latter is another thought he must release as well; this time out of self-preservation. “And if I said I could not attend? Regrettably, of course.”

“You wouldn’t get away with it!” That is a gesture she inherited from Sholmes alone—a cheeky point that fills him with dread. “I can see you have no case at the moment judging by the lack of a diorama on your table. Plus, I’ve already made my rounds and invited Ginny, Kazu, and Mary, and none of them declined—meaning there are no important investigations pending that would require your involvement as the DPP. Also, your pile of uncompleted work is almost entirely depleted, which is why you didn’t immediately look up when I entered; you were finishing the final sentence on the report you have in front of you! Therefore I can easily conclude you have no good reason to reject my invitation, and Uncle, you will be coming to supper tonight! Even if I have to drag you!”

She curtsies. It is a wonder a curtsy can look so smug. “Thus concludes Iris van Zieks’s ‘Logic and Reasoning Spectacular’!”

--

“Did Mr. Sholmes ever do this for you?”

“Only when I was really little,” Iris chirps, and her heels thump against the door-frame as she straightens herself flush against the wall, chin tilted up to grin a bright, missing-tooth-gap grin. “I think Daddy may have forgotten about it, but he does that all the time—starts things and forgets to finish them—so I don’t mind!”

A lump grows in his throat that prevents him from responding immediately, so he simply hums in acknowledgment. Enough time has passed for his more unsavory emotions regarding the circumstances surrounding Iris’s childhood to have been exposed to the critical eye of reality and adequately examined, but he is still occasionally gripped by them—vehement envy, the thick black bile of melancholy, the childish desire to bemoan how unfair it all was that he was barred from her existence for more than a decade. If he had raised the girl, she would not have missed out on these tiny, priceless things... 

Yet at the same time, he had little more to offer her than Sholmes. Perhaps even much less. For all Herlock Sholmes was an impertinent maniac, he fostered a home full of warmth and energy, and provided what Iris needed to flourish. At its most basic requirement, Iris needed to be raised by a person, a living soul, as opposed to a husk of a man too steeped in his own selfish misery to exit his chambers without a bottle of wine in hand. Iris is a marvel, and Barok is glad she was not pulled into his darkness, and Barok grieves what it may have meant for him if she had been—if she was the light he had been missing for all those years.

“My brother and I took this very seriously,” he says eventually. He does not refer to Klimt as Iris’s father; he is lucky enough that Iris values their blood relation enough that she wants to associate with him, and even Barok’s ties to Klimt’s memory have oxidized somewhat. He will not allude to a relationship Iris has not acknowledged, even if its biological presence weighs heavy between them, silent but reeking of iron. “Though I suppose he may have simply humored my competitive streak.”

“You can’t grow taller through force of will,” Iris says solemnly. “I’ve tried.”

“I attempted that as well,” Barok admits. His thumb grazes over one of the notches high above her head, the divot’s edges rounded and softened with age. In Klimt’s hand, the tidy note beside it reads, ‘Barok - 175 cm,’ and he recalls being sixteen like rediscovering a worn photograph nestled between the covers of a book. “I... used to hang upside down from the trees in the grove, in hopes that may garner me a few inches on him.”

Iris bursts into laughter—pure, unrestrained glee that instantly illuminates the room. “Oh dear! D-do you mean, like a bat?”

“He claimed I looked more like a colt dangling from a fence.” Distantly, as though someone else was pointing it out, he recognizes that he is smiling. It is a small, rueful smile, but a smile nonetheless—another surprising talent of Iris’s, being able to coax such a thing out of him. “Klimt was, of course, the one who ‘let it slip,’ so to speak, that this was a viable plan of action. Pretending it was a secret he failed to conceal from me cemented the idea in my head.”

Iris looks thoughtful, her giggles abating as she turns his tale over in her clever mind. “Perhaps it has something to do with blood flow?”

“I believe it had something to do with making me act like a fool.”

With another trill of amusement at his expense, Iris hands him the pencil and the tape. The change in attitude is immediate—she flattens herself against the doorframe once more, rigid and solemn as a statue, staring straight ahead in the interest of complete accuracy. Barok exerts what may be the most care and gentleness he’s ever utilized in his life to smooth down her hair and etches a mark at the crown of her head onto the jamb.

When he steps away, Iris once more shifts back to delight, and practically bounces out of the way so he can measure her height with the tape.

“The last time I checked, I was one hundred and twenty centimeters!” Iris announces. “I do hope I’ve grown a bit!”

She has. Barok writes, ‘Iris - 125 cm’ next to her very first mark, right above one of his own at age ten.

#i am so. fucking sorry. #genuinely there is no excuse except for the fact that my brain doesn't work for some reason #hot tybalt content #its not even edited! i'm so sorry #the former is the one that was written before the latter is the new one

[princepestilence]

NYR: November in review.

Post-November horoscope: “I do not need to be good at the things I love to do them.”

And what a November! We’re properly moved in now, aside from the many boxes left to be unpacked and/or cut down and recycled. Some of what’s been going on:

finished moving in. Sort of! I think it’ll be an ongoing process for probably the next little while, but our home is now super functional and we have a huge comfy new lounge that I am in love with. 

poetry reading! It went well. Very cool established people made a point of complimenting me, which I’m still a bit giddy about. 

thesis! Technically, I finished the chapter draft yesterday, but I feel like it still counts. Now onto the final chapter. 

fifth month milestone at work. Not that anything’s different except that it would be a lot harder for them to fire me now if they wanted to (which they extremely do not). I am very content. Also it was the season launch but whatever. 

ttrpg work. The editing part is yet to come but the starter scenario is finished! I’m very happy with the final product. It’s very much a love-letter to my home and the people I’ve known in this strange, gorgeous part of the world. 

medical appointment. Will find out the results next week and then hopefully be able to start remedying things, which will be nice. Being sore all the time is not really very fun. 

my birthday! I’m very happy and feel very loved. I’ve got big dreams for next year’s birthday festivities and it’s been exciting to share an imporant project with my friends as part of the twelve-month countdown to the thirty milestone. Should actually put that on here as well, now I think about it.

In December, I will:

write thesis chapter four. The fourth and final chapter of the thesis draft! Once it’s done, I’ll be taking a month off to relax and refresh before jumping into the major redraft/rewrite/restructure and edit process in February. 

ttrpg editing. It’s exciting to get to see the final version after hearing about the game for so long. 

novel feedback. I’ve already read it through once, so now it’s time for a close read of the work and some feedback.

last board meeting of the year. The board I’m on convenes this month for the last meeting and a little dinner together, which marks my one year anniversary of becoming a member of the COM. I’m looking forward to more years, and taking on more responsibility once I’ve got the thesis off my plate. 

New Year’s Eve party. We’re thinking it would be nice to do a house-warming + new year welcome here, especially since a lot of friends still haven’t had a chance to visit the new place yet. 

think on new year’s resolutions. It’s almost time to begin the journey again. 

#2022 resolutions

[dameronscopilot]

Sleepover Saturday is my favorite day! I was wondering if you would share a sneak peek of the next chapter IBYBS? Absolutely no rush and absolutely no pressure! I just love that fic so much and can't seem to get enough of it (thank you for sharing it with us!!) ❤️❤️

First of all, THANK YOU 🧡! I want to cry every time someone says they're enjoying this story 😂

Below the cut you'll find a snippet from chapter 3 of I'll Be Your Bright Side. Note: This is still a draft, and the final version may contain changes once the chapter is completed!

“Damn,” Benny whistled as you walked out into the living room to find him sprawled out on your couch, a bag of chips that’d he’d pilfered from your cabinet sitting open in his lap.

Like clockwork, a blooming bud of warmth unfurled in the pit of your chest under the weight of his stare (followed by a chastising remark from your heart to fucking let it go). Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you spun around, glancing down at the outfit you’d finally settled on. Jeans and a blouse ultimately won out over a dress in an attempt to keep things on the right side of casual, though you’d opted to then put the extra effort into your hair and makeup at the very least.

“Too much? Not enough?” you asked, uncertainty lingering in your tone.

“I mean it kinda feels like a waste for you to look that good if we’re just going to be sitting here eating takeout food, but I’m not complaining,” he clarified with a grin.

Wait, didn’t he have plans?

“I have a date,” you explained. Saying those words to Benny felt so wrong on your lips you almost started to feel sick.

Benny’s hand froze midway on its journey to his mouth, a piece of a Dorito falling into his lap. “A date?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Willing yourself desperately not to make any self-serving assumptions based on his tone, you put your hands on your hips. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Benny genuinely looked to be at a loss for words, and he nearly fumbled when he finally replied, “No. Uh. Just didn’t know you were dating again. Like...now.”

I’m not. I just need to stop thinking about you before I lose my mind.

You swallowed the words you wanted to say, pushing them down deep as you regretfully offered him a different response. “We’re just doing trivia night. Frankie and Santiago are coming so it’s not weird.”

Benny raised an eyebrow, opened his mouth, and then shut it. After a moment, he inquired evenly, “What’s tonight’s topic?”

“Star Wars…” you trailed off, already knowing what was coming.

He balked, jaw threatening to drop to the floor. “You’re bringing Francisco ‘Wait is that wheezing dude supposed to be his dad?’ Morales and Santiago ‘Phantom Menace Bitch’ Garcia…and you didn’t invite me?!”

Well, when he put it like that, it did certainly sound like you had set your evening up for complete and total disaster. But even if Benny was free, you’d have to have been halfway out of your mind to invite him. The whole point of this date was to get your mind off of the man you were hopelessly in love with, not to shove a scalding hot poker into your unrequited purgatory by placing his stupidly pretty, smiling face front and center while you were on a goddamn date.

“I thought you had a 'hot date' tonight,” you retorted, making air quotes for added emphasis.

Benny snorted, nearly choking on a chip in the process. He coughed a few times and then looked at you, bewildered. “A fucking what?!”

You threw your hands into the air. “I don’t know, Santi mentioned it the other day when we were all together!”

Benny dramatically dropped his head back onto the arm of the couch. When he lifted it back up, he ran a hand through his hair and laughed. “Yeah, remember I started offering one-on-one lessons at the gym this week? That little old lady that always winks at me and brings me cookies after her pilates class had an appointment with me this afternoon.”

Santiago Garcia was a dead man walking. 

“So...you're free tonight."

“Nope,” he grinned, obnoxiously popping the 'P'. “I’m coming to trivia to make sure those two idiots don’t ruin our team’s winning streak.”

#answers from the cockpit #IBYBS #I'll Be Your Bright Side #sleepover saturday

[urmidastouchonthechevydoor]

week four

This week, we dove deeper into the idea of visual rhetoric and how this impacts Taylor’s live performances. We also worked more on looking at the Reputation era, which is a super interesting area to look at if you are trying to analyze Taylor’s use of visual rhetoric. Her constant use of snake motifs is one of the most obvious elements of this use of rhetoric, but there are other easter eggs and references once you dig deeper. I also worked more towards the first draft of our major project 1, in which I will be focusing on Taylor’s NPR Tiny Desk Concert. I am planning on dividing it into three parts. The first part will focus on ethos of the Tiny Desk Concert. This will include the aspects of her establishing credibility, playing stripped-down versions of songs to stray away from pop. The second topic will be the pathos of Tiny desk, creating an intimate setting in which we examine her work, the pathos of false intimacy- using small crowd, stripped-down versions of songs. The final topic will be the value of Kairos in this performance, which is often a key element to examine when we look at Taylor’s life performances. This would look at the time period in which this concert took place, pre-Joe breakup, talking about finally feeling at peace with her love life- oftentimes in the public eye she was seen as someone who could never keep a man, at this point in time she had been in a serious relationship for some time- the world was taking her more seriously. Looking forward, we can examine the fallout from this time period- her breakup with Joe and the media once again taking her less seriously as an artist. Her public relationship with Travis has put her back in this pop-star image she once had- moving away from her indie-artist image she had around her Red re-release era, hanging out with Boygenius and dating one of the stars of a Sally Rooney adaptation. I’m interested in this slight change in public perception- has this changed her audience? Are the indie girls moving onto new artists, are the pop girls gravitating back towards Taylor?