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jayswritings13 · 2 years

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Disney: s/o caring for sidekicks for Hades, Facilier, & Beast

Request: "Hiii! :,)) Can i requests these villains (Hades, Facilier and beast) with a Gender Neutral S/O who is like a parent figure for their Minions/imps?" by Anon

Note: I loved writing this!! Especially for the enchanted objects from Beauty and the Beast! I will always have a soft spot in my heart for them!

💗Masterlist | WIP Page

Hades

(+ Pain and Panic)

Pain and Panic were both used to be Hades' punching bags, especially since they both were assigned to work for him for eternity.

Or when they died.

Honestly, both had huge bets on that latter happening sooner.

That being said, they were shocked when you actually treated them with respect and like....a person.

Meg didn't even do that during her time with the Lord of the Underworld.

Pain and Panic milk the shit out of your attention.

Something that Hades catches onto too fast and immediately blows up on them about.

"Y'know, babe, when you treat them with respect, they start to expect that."

"You show respect your way and I'll show it mine." you crossed your arms, ignoring the slight snickers from Pain and Panic that erupted below you.

Maybe it was Hades never-ending wrath towards the two imps that spurred on your protectiveness of them.

Maybe it was that they weren't too many other creatures down here to talk to besides Hades and the Fates.

You often checked in with them, asking them how they were, and generally just being friendly towards them.

It drove Hades nuts.

That was also another reason you might've done this, because sometimes bugging Hades is the highlight of your day.

It was a vicious cycle, really.

Hades would blow up on Pain and Panic, which would cause you to be even nicer to them, which would then make Hades even more pissed.

"Listen, we appreciate this and all, but you don't gotta keep doing this." Pain said, as Panic nodded.

"But you two deserve some decency." You said, "I mean, you not all of those horrible things Hades calls you."

"Wait.....Really?" Panic asked

"Well, I mean you guys have your moments, but you're not that terrible." You said, "I mean, you guys are pretty fun to talk to down here."

Dr. Facilier

(+ Voodoo dolls, Lawrence, and Shadow)

Facilier and the Shadow were a two-for-one deal that you never even knew that you really signed up for.

Facilier never would admit it, but he did care for his shadow very much.

After all, it was basically an extension of him.

The same could be said for the voodoo dolls, as those were the first dolls that he's had since he started practicing Voodoo.

So he definitely wanted you to respect and get along with them, often pushing your thoughts and feelings out of you pretty early on.

"They're nice and all, Faci." You said, glancing over at the shadow as it crept closer and closer towards Facilier and yourself. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Just curious....."

Luckily for you, Shadow loved to gossip, and often played charades to convey what he was trying to say.

The Voodoo dolls weren't into that as much, as they were happy to have another person around to admire them.

Though, when you came in one afternoon from town, you weren't expecting an elderly man chatting to Facilier.

"Hello."

"This is no time for small talk, Larry," Facilier scolded before he flashed you a smile.

Over the next day or two, you took note of how often Lawrence came around. Not that you minded of course.

As based on the very limited conversations between the two of you, you noted how polite and respectful he was, despite that deep-seated rage underneath

"Do you think that this plan will work......?"

"Listen, I learned that it's better to trust the process." You said, glancing over at Lawrence.

"......eh, okay...." Lawrence said, "Excuse me, I just have a lot riding on this."

"Yeah, uh, I could tell," You said, eyeing the empty jar in his hands. "But it should work out as long as you stick to the plan."

"Ah, it's really nice to have someone else to talk to about this......stuff," Lawrence said. "So, thank you."

"Ah, it's no issue. You're not the only one who wants to talk to someone else about non-Voodoo-related things, Lawrence." You smiled.

Beast

(+ Lumière, Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, Chip, etc...)

Of course, you adored the enchanted household objects.

They welcomed you in right away, often checking in on you to see how you were adjusting to the castle and other aspects of this new life.

Due to their very friendly and nice nature, you quickly befriended the various enchanted objects you came across, especially those that have become regulars in your new life.

Breakfast with Chip, afternoon tea with Mrs. Potts and Chip, and dinner with Cogsworth and Lumière.

"So what's today's special breakfast?" You smiled down at the small teacup, who excitedly hopped over to the part of the table where you were.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise!"

"Okay, okay." You laughed.

It didn't take long for Beast to notice this and grow angry over the fact that you had a better relationship with his servants than him, often calling Cogsworth in for 'meetings'.

Though most of the time it was Beast ranting, Cogsworth apologizing, and when Mrs. Potts joined, her scolding Beast for taking it out on them instead of trying to make an effort.

Luckily for you, Lumière spilled everything to you later on, much to Cogsworth's dismay.

".....so, I told the master to be pa-"

"DON'T TELL THEM THAT!" Cogsworth shrieked.

"Well, it's true!!" Lumière huffed, "You were there mon ami!"

As much as the enchanted objects tried to make you feel at home, welcome, and taken care of, you often went out of your way to make their days better, even if small.

Though, you could always count on Mrs. Potts to set them straight and calm any fight down.

You saw how hard they worked and wanted to make sure that their hard work didn't go unnoticed.

"You all deserve a break." You said, once you were able to round up the four of them, "You all work so hard and all, so take a break."

"Mademoiselle, I assure you that we can-"

"But, you're our guest. You shouldn't have to do that for us. We can d-"

"We appreciate that, but-" Mrs. Potts said.

"No, 'buts'." You said, taking a moment to look at the objectors---Lumière, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts---before turning to Chip, with a grin. "Make sure that they actually relax on this break. I'm counting on you, Chip." You said, causing a huge smile to break out across the tiny teacup's face.

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violettelueur · 3 years

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— GOJO SATORU || JEALOUS TYPE

↳ featuring : gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of sleeping pills and grammar issues

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 05 february

↳ pronouns : non specified in imagine

↳ word count : 1.3k

↳ synopsis : waking up without your husband in bed with you, you decided to go search for him only to find him filling out paperwork that was long overdue.

↳ request : Hi!! Can i request a gojo x reader where gojo is doing some paperwork and the reader cant fell asleep without him so gojo made her sit on his lap while doing some paperwork and the reader falls asleep? When gojo is finished in his paperwork he went to sleep with the reader in their bedroom. Can you please make it fluffy? Thank you! I also love all of your works!

↳ barista’s notes : so...awkward times when some of your coffee orders (requests) disappear from your inbox hahahaha.....ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ but after i have written some of my ideas, i will update the ‘coffees in progress page’ (wip) for you guys to see if your requested got/didn’t get deleted! i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please don’t be shy to order again soon ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

“When are you going to finish?”

Turning around from his seat, Gojo’s bright crystal eyes instantly caught the adorable sight of you standing by the doorway, wearing one of his large black jumpers paired with the classic black three-stripe Adidas shorts, as you covered your eyes trying to adjusting to the new lighting of the single lamp that was on.

“I’m doing some paperwork honey~” Gojo cheekily commented while twirling the pencil he was holding in his hand causing you to look at your husband in complete annoyance since you were the one that kept constantly reminding him that he needed to get his work done or he was going to sleep really late with the chances of him being at a slight disadvantage when coming into contact with curses - but, of course, he didn’t listen and using the excuse of ‘don’t worry, I’m the strongest’.

“I told you to do it earlier, why didn’t you listen to me?” you asked in an irritated tone, as you then processed to walk up to the ‘hard-working’ man causing Gojo to smile as he managed to get a closer look at you without him asking.

From closer inspection, Gojo could tell you were still extremely tired due to how heavy your eyes looked since it seemed like you were struggling to keep them open, your hair was tangled and messy but that was one of Gojo’s favourite things to see but he would rather see it in the morning rather than sleep-deprived as you were at this moment in time.

Ever since you and Gojo established your romantic relationship during the second-year, he slowly began to realise that you would sleep as early as possible even when the shorthand of the clock just hit the number 7 in the evening. At first, he didn’t really care too much about it at first, he just thought you weren’t a night owl at all. However, he remembered one day you came into class with such dark circles, he couldn’t help but worry.

“Ahhh~ I have trouble sleeping in general, sleeping pills don’t work at all as well, so that’s why I sleep early.”

After that little discussion, Gojo made it his role to make sure you got enough sleep for the next day even if he had to stay in your room all night to make sure and it was still that same ever since you both got married. However, there were times when he had to overwork due to the number of missions that higher-ups passed on to him causing him to worry from time to time, but it seemed like you were slowly improving to which he was so proud of you for.

“Can’t sleep without me?” Gojo teased, leading to a frown to grow on your face which caused you to turn around as you weren’t in the mood to deal with his nuisance at 2 am in the morning. However, before you could even take a single step back to your shared bedroom, you suddenly felt a large hand wrap its fingers around your wrist leading to a halt in your moment. Gently, you were pulled back leading to you to lose your footing due to your drowsiness before an arm wrapped itself on your back preventing you from falling onto the wooden floor.

Blinking in surprise, you steadily came to the realisation that you now were on your husband’s lap as his other arm had dropped the pen he was holding to reach over to the couch where a spare blanket was placed, which was suddenly covering you from the cool air that was surrounding the room. “Go to sleep, I’ll take you back to bed when I’m done,” the white-haired sorcerer commented with a soft tone, causing you to look up at him before giving into the chance as your slyly wrapped your arms around his neck before pressing your face into his shoulder to get away from the bright light that your eyes weren’t still adjusted to.

Tenderly, one of Gojo’s hands began to run up and down your back trying to soothe you to sleep while his other hand went back to the pen that was abandoned to continue filling out the forms he was meant to do a week ago. Smiling, he leaned his head lightly against yours trying to relish the feeling of you needing him since he knew that the moment you both leave the four walls that were surrounding you, you wouldn’t show this vulnerable side to him. You refused to.

Comparing you to your personal life to your professional life, you clearly had two different personalities. When you were at school, you were cool, calm and collective, sometimes a little too blunt but there was a perfect mix of teasing that came along with it - clearly influenced by the one and only, himself. He vividly remembered the time when you joked about Fushiguro being the type to kick a stray cat after saying ‘such a nuisance’ or the time you joked that Itadori was the type to push a door that says ‘pull’ leading Kugisaki to laugh hysterically while both of the mentioned boys began to argue, yet the second you pat their hands and say ‘I’m only joking’, they both would suddenly calm down.

On the other hand, when you were at home with him or alone, you were more relaxed from your professional behaviour and sweet, leading him to wonder what switch did you flicker to change your brain. But he never questioned it. To be honest, he rather not since he knew the moment he would mention it, you would revert back to your work personality and not the kind and sweet one that was reserved for him.

“I would tell you to be more like that at work, but I’m too much of the jealous type,” Gojo whispered even though he knew that you were already asleep due to your light breathing pattern and how the tight hold you had around his neck slightly loosened.

Signing off the last sheet that was on the towering pile, Gojo let out a sigh of relief before turning his head to get a quick sight of you, only to find that you were still in an unconscious state leading to the special grade sorcerer to look at the time on his phone to find that an hour had passed. 3:05 am.

Carefully reaching over to the lamp, Gojo flicked the switch causing the lighting to gradually disappear before slowly pushing out his chair as he looped an arm under your knees as he picked you up bridal style. Quickly making his way to your shared bedroom, Gojo began to gently place you down onto your side of the bed before slowly beginning to unhook the arms that were still around his neck. However, before he could even move to his side, he felt your hand instinctively grab his hand causing the playful man to look at you with a smile on his face as he looked down at your sleeping figure.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” Gojo whispered as he lightly stroked your cheek resulting in the grip of your hand to loosen as if you were awake to understand him. Climbing into his side of the bed, Gojo carefully pulled you into his arms causing you to snuggle further into the warmth that he was generously providing you before subconsciously wrapping an arm around his body wanting to keep him as close to you as possible.

“Yeah, I’m too much of the jealous type to let you show this side of you” Gojo mumbled as he slowly closed his eyes, following your route to a slumber that he had been desperate for since the moment he had you in his arms.

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wordsnstuff · 3 years

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Guide to Writing in First Person POV

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

–

Practice & Adjustment

When you’re new to writing in first person, or you’re returning to the practice after not having done so for a long time, it can be difficult to adjust to the style. It’s a big shift to go from writing from third person, a relatively straight-forward perspective, to first person. First person introduces a whole new set of elements to consider when writing. Bias, reliability of their memory versus the objective truth versus the other characters’ memory of the same events, and motivation. Motivation is especially tricky when it comes to the first-person narrative because you have to sort out not only what happens and how it effects the characters/plot but why the narrator is including it, and how their personal perspective changes the way you’re depicting the events. The best way to adjust to this style is to practice. One of my personal favorite ways to practice is through low-stakes writing. Fanfiction, short stories, personal retellings of my own experiences like diary entries, etc. These are all methods of story-telling that are typically short-form and allow you to naturally familiarize yourself with the characteristics of a first-person narrative.

Including Backstory & Context

When you’re writing in first person, it’s important to consider that certain characteristics of the narrator’s perspective won’t make sense to the reader or adequately add to their reading experience until you apply the relevant context. Personal experiences, values, motivations, and priorities all influence how a person tells a story, and in order to write a good first-person narrative, you need to have a grasp on these things. The reader needs to understand them as well. Perhaps some of these things are deliberately omitted from the reader’s awareness,. If a narrator’s motivations, for example, are going to remain a mystery until the end, you must deliver a satisfying conclusion that establishes to the reader why that choice was made. It’s generally a good idea to introduce this information early on. Backstory and personal context are essential to the foundation of a first-person narrative.

Developing Secondary Characters

Developing secondary characters can be a challenge in this point of view because you’re solely focused on the lens of an individual. The other characters in the story will therefore be established to the reader based on what the narrator thinks, feels, and tells of them. Many writers feel concern about creating well-rounded secondary characters in a first person narrative because everything the reader sees must be witnessed by the narrator. However, this can be an advantage. A secondary character’s arc forms more naturally because it’s being observed organically through the eyes of another. The narrator makes observations for the reader to interpret alongside them. The reader may not have extensive knowledge of the specifics that cause a change in the characters, but they are more intuitively informed by the secondary characters’ behaviors and reactions to the narrator and whatever the narrator can see.

Distinctive Voice

You must be deliberate in the way you construct the narrator’s consciousness. It’s imperative that you be somewhat in-character while you write in first person because their thought process must be consistent throughout the storytelling. What are they likely to notice or fixate on when they’re experiencing or recounting events? What is likely going through their heads? What causes alarm or comfort and how is this reflected in the vocabulary or tone they use in description? A distinctive voice is a major part of developing your perspective character, so approach it with intention.

Depict, Don’t Report

It’s just as easy in first person as it is in third person to fall into the habit of reporting events rather than depicting them. Reporting is when the narrative consists of “she said this” or “he felt this” or “the weather was bad”. Depicting is recounting the events with style and deliberate detail that constructs a tone and absorbs the reader. “He cast his eyes downward and kicked at the rocks on the path.” “A shadow fell over the café as clouds inched across the sun, “I love you,” he said. “I know,” I whispered. My eyes refused to lift from the condensation on the glass before me.” That’s the difference. Vocabulary, syntax, and deliberate detail absorbs the reader.

Common Struggles

~ How do I avoid starting every sentence with the word “I”?... Intimate vocabulary & diverse sentence structure. When a scene consists of too many sentences that begin with the word “I”, that’s a good indication that you’re telling rather than showing. Detail should be interspersed and create some distance from the narrator’s inner monologue. Use vocabulary that bring the reader in and vary the construction of your sentences. This often becomes easier when you set aside time to focus on the practice of technical writing skills, rather than the practice of storytelling.

~ How do I maintain consistent tense (past vs present) while writing from the first person perspective?... Practice. A lot of narrative skill and consistency comes with practice. Devoting time to a focused practice of maintaining consistent narrative tense at the same time as telling a story in first person is immensely helpful. Set aside time before and during the drafting process to practice your skill in this. Once you’re comfortable and zoned into these mechanics, you won’t have to think about it that much. It’s like muscle memory.

~ How can I identify biases the character might have in relation to the events they’re recounting?... Analyze their motivations. Analyze their relationships to the other parties involved, and how that may influence what they focus on and what language they would use to describe the other characters’ actions. A lot of this nuance comes in the second draft and editing stages, but initially these two things are essential to writing a sturdy, foundational first-person narrative draft.

~ What techniques can I use to keep the POV character’s voice unique & consistent?... Include deliberate trends in vocabulary, thought process, and focus. This is where their personality shines through their words. Are they more likely to notice the weather or the traffic when they first step out of their home? When having an argument, are they more likely to apply context to the other person’s tone or their body language?

~ How do I avoid accidentally making the POV character omniscient?... Get in character and don’t repeatedly remind yourself of things that you as an author know, but you as a narrator do not. If you as a narrator know that a secondary character is upset during a scene for reasons the POV character isn’t aware of, it’s important to walk the line of first person observation and omniscient foreshadowing. Question often why you’re including details in description, and if the answer is ever information that the POV character doesn’t know yet, it’s probably best to cut it out.

Other Resources

Pros & Cons of Different Points of View

Resources For Describing Characters

Resources For Describing Emotion

Connecting To Your Own Characters

Giving Characters Distinct Voices in Dialogue

Introducing Secondary Characters

Tips on Character Consistency

Tackling Subplots

Resources For Describing Physical Things

How To Develop A Distinct Voice In Your Writing

Balancing Detail & Development

Showing VS Telling in First Person POV

Showing Vs Telling

Describing emotion through action

Improving Flow In Writing

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Masterlist | WIP Blog

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#writing #writeblr #writespo #writing tips #writing advice #writing resources #writing reference #resources for writers #resources for writing #writing help #writing workshop #guide to writing #creative writing #point of view #perspective #POV

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faorism · 2 years

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whenever u put the “of hearth & home” tag on moreau related things it makes me scream internally bc if makes me think abt the concept of eliot going home to moreau

[moreau's mindfuckery and highly suggestive]

Homecomings mean something to a southern boy like Eliot. Big bashes and tailgating and reunions and all the girlies looking so good (and the boys who can't score one of them just desperate enough to try something a little more familiar in the shadows of empty science labs). Barbeques rolling meat for so long he'll wake up days after the big game eyes tearing up from spice caught in his lashes.

He doesn't remember the chorus line as he falls into it with the crew or, with them, when he falls into something like a family.

Then it ain't like anything at all. It just is. Family. Home. Because it feels like coming home, every time Hardison texted Eliot a stupid fucking 🦇 emoji. Eliot would text back I'll shove that bat signal where the sun don't shine the next time you do that kiddie nerd shit and Hardison will respond u promise?? or u keep saying that and yet! and Eliot would ignore him and show up early to the run through to make sure Parker didn't take his spot and she wouldn't but she would always find a way to sit too close, and Sophie would find something to tease someone about, and Nate would have his schemes, and then they would start the whole process again the next time.

Eliot falls into that familiarity quick. Because with them he can taste again casserole with too much Miracle Whip and can hear brass and can piece together pass brownout levels of intoxication what it was like being cheered as homecoming king his senior year. It makes him nervous, sometimes. How good it feels to be with them. Sophie and Nate, Hardison and Parker.

A lot of times, he's nervous.

And he was right to be, 'cause then his family falls into the path of Damien Moreau's haunting. Because of course they fucking do. It must be him, huh? Just had to be him out of the dozens of other well-connected murdering megalomaniacs just like him? It just had to be him?

Eliot wishes he still believed in something other than the vision of the world Leverage promises because he wants a word with any god left who would listen to him. He'd ask that god about why they would do this to him; to them; to the people they've been helping. Eliot stops eating and stops sleeping again, and the shadows of Moreau darken his every early morning sunrise to early morning sunrise.

Time feels different with Moreau so close to and far from him again.

Seconds feel infinite with that man before Eliot and another man behind him and below the water's surface. There, making a promise to a memory dashed across a mirror of all his nightmares, Eliot realizes tense. A man he loved is before him.

And then there's conjugation: behind and below him is a man he is starting to love. Has loved. Will love. Can love. Loves.

(And then, distantly, its own echo: a reapplication: a thief with clever hands and a silly laugh he is starting to love. Has loved. Will love. Can love. Loves.)

Moreau steps forward and then closes the distance by raising his fist upwards, thumb reaching forward. A practiced move from a long ago fancy; Eliot can feel a flash sensation of that pad against his lips and then its slide against his tongue. He can feel Moreau's hold on him, the muzzle carved from his hand as he clutched Eliot so tight and secure. Spit pools in Eliot's mouth at the memory, and he won't flinch or swallow or react even as he holds in the ditch between teeth and gums a wetness that tells tale of how his mouth was once home for a very different kind of coming, from Moreau. Eliot holds his own mouth stuck and obedient against Moreau's advance, which earns him a laugh. Moreau rolls his wrist and a slight of hand later, a key dangles in front of Eliot's nose.

"Guess Pavlov might have exaggerated some, hm, honey?" Moreau tosses the key over Eliot's shoulder.

[part of a long of heart and home wip ive been sitting on for months now, rip]

#eliot spencer #damien moreau #leverage #thiefsome #moreau x eliot #leverage ot3 #of hearth and home and other promises #faorism work #faorism writes fic

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years

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Head Over Feet (1/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Yes, I know I have a bunch of other WIPs - and I am still working on all of them! But I’ve been so excited about this one, I just want to get it out there...

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :)

***

Chapter 1: Loser Like Me (Part One)

Fall 2028

Blaine is dreaming. It’s all fuzzy, but there are hands… familiar hands that are on him clasping his own, cupping his face, trailing down, down, down to where it feels good. He begins to feel the warmth spread throughout his body. He feels good, so good… Lips are against his, rough and hungry, he is enveloped in want, in need… He lets out a groan, letting the pleasure overtake him. He reaches out, desperate for more, but as he does so, that good feeling starts to float away. He makes a grasp for it, but it’s no longer there, and he is left cold and wanting more.

And then his alarm goes off.

Blaine wakes up hard as a rock. He can’t remember the last time he had a dream about sex. Maybe when he had been a teenager? Or possibly college? But he doesn’t remember any of those dreams ending him with his dick actually aching to fuck something.

He stares at the ceiling for a good long moment, thinking the urgency will eventually wear off. He turns his head, slightly, to see the outline of his husband on the other side of the bed. He doesn’t bother to wake Sean -- not that morning sex had ever been a part of their marriage. They’re on opposite schedules; the show Sean is doing the costumes for is in the middle of its workshop, and if it gets picked up by a good producer, it could mean big things. And Sean is cranky in the morning, anyway.

Blaine can just as easily take care of himself.

He gets up, slowly. The erection still hasn’t died down, and Blaine begins to wonder if this is even normal for someone his age. Maybe he should call a doctor. He laughs to himself. Or maybe he should jack off and not worry about it.

He moves off the bed, having to go around it to get to the bathroom. In the process, he has to step over a huge pile of Sean’s clothes. Blaine takes a moment to pick them up, and throw them into the laundry basket. Two seconds, it takes. Is that really so hard?

The clothes also smell like booze and cigarettes, which means Sean has been staying out late with the company again. It’s fine, they used to both go all the time to the afterparties and the clubs, but some time after Blaine hit thirty, he didn’t find them as enticing any more. Something about feeling almost twice as old as everyone around him killed the spirit.

Blaine gets into the bathroom, turning on the light, and easily stripping out of the boxers that he wears to bed. His dick is still throbbing to be touched, so he gives himself a few hardy strokes before turning on the water for a shower. It’s weird, he thinks, as he gets in. Sex used to be the a staple of his marriage but, as the years passed, he and Sean manage once a week if they’re lucky. He hasn’t really missed it, or maybe he hasn’t noticed he missed it. Because getting off with just his hand doesn’t normally feel so good.

He indulges a little, thinking about that dream, and those hands on him. Letting someone else take over, take control, take him apart. He thinks, at first, of Sean, pulling from the catalogue of their sex life. Sean being the one to hold him, and stroke him, and suck him down. But as much as he tries to concentrate on his husband, the scene keeps pulling away, and there’s someone else there -- a faceless man with deft hands who knows exactly how Blaine likes to be touched.

He speeds up his hand, and yet somehow it doesn’t feel like enough. He braces himself against the tile of the bathroom wall, fucking furiously into his hand until his hips take on a life of their own. Eventually he comes, jolting hard into his hand. The orgasm tears through him, and he lets out a near scream that he hopes doesn’t wake Sean.

It takes a moment to come down, and he leans against the tiles, enjoying the blissed out feeling as the hot water sprays over him. He’s not sure what had brought all that on but he does feel more relaxed. He’s been too pent up lately. Maybe he does need to start seeing his therapist again…

***

On Wednesdays, Blaine only teaches one class and he is back home by noon in time, usually, to make himself lunch before heading out to do afternoon errands (or stay in and grade papers). Before the workshop started, he and Sean would usually make Wednesday nights their together time. But those have faded away over the past year or so. Blaine has gotten used to spending the evenings alone, to the point that when Blaine arrives back at the apartment that afternoon, he’s startled to see Sean there making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Sean stands against the counter, chewing the sandwich slowly as he watches Blaine put his bag and coat on one of the kitchen table chairs. “You okay?” Sean asks, taking another bite. A bit of crust lands in his red beard, and he brushes it off and onto the floor. Blaine shakes his head, now he understands why the floor is always so filthy. “You’re looking at me as if I’m a stranger in the house.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says. Maybe it’s not. It feels, weirdly, like an intrusion on his private time, but the thought is laughable. His husband is home -- he should be happy. Blaine begins to rifle through the fridge, pulling out a container of tuna fish to have for lunch. They could eat together, at the table, like civilized people. “What happened with the workshop?”

“Remember me telling you about Ashleigh and Karyn and their obsessive ambition to be the first to win a Tony? Or whatever the fuck they’re actually looking for.”

“Yes.” No? Maybe? He can’t keep all of the cast members of Sean’s show straight. But Blaine doesn’t really feel like listening to a who’s who tangent. He finishes making the sandwich as Sean explains further.

“Well, I don’t know how it started, but I know how it ended -- with the both of them in the hospital,” Sean says. “So with both the lead and the understudy out, the workshop is on hold for a little while.”

“Wait, who was the lead again?” Blaine asks. Sandwich made, he grabs some chips from the pantry and a bottle of water and heads to the kitchen table. Sean follows him, leaving his now empty plate on the counter, before taking his usual seat across from Blaine.

“Karyn,” Sean says, stealing some chips from Blaine’s bag. “The blonde.”

“Right.”

“So, I guess you have me home for a while.”

Blaine plasters an immediate smile to his face. He’s not entirely sure how to feel, though. “Are you still getting paid?”

“Yeah,” Sean grabs more chips. “Marv’s gotta girl lined up in case it takes longer. Shouldn’t be more than a week.”

“Ah.”

Sean taps his fingers on the table. Blaine sips from his water bottle. There’s a siren outside somewhere, and the upstairs neighbor’s dog sprints back and forth, causing the ceiling to creek.

“I paid the water bill,” Sean says after a long moment.

“Great,” Blaine says. “I still say we should get reimbursed for the neighbors tapping into our pipes.”

“I’ll talk to Greg about it.”

“Great.”

Blaine eats his sandwich in a strange sort of silence as Sean watches him. He feels like they should talk about something. What do they usually talk about these days? Work? The apartment? The new musical mini-series Netflix put out? Sean doesn’t ask how Blaine’s class went. Blaine doesn’t offer to talk about it. Nothing really feels like a good conversation.

Which is why Blaine decides to mention it… “So, I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was some kind of sex dream,” Blaine says, licking the tuna from his fingers. “I woke up hard as fuck.”

Sean gives a smirk. “I can’t tell if this is your way of telling me you want to fool around tonight, or if you’re concerned and want to see a doctor.”

Blaine laughs into his water. “I decided I’m too young still to have dick problems, and jacked off in the shower.”

Sean’s eyes go wide with amusement. “Shame I missed that show. If you’re still feeling it, we can mess around after lunch if you want.”

Blaine gives an unenthused shrug. “I’ve got some errands to run. Then I’m having dinner with Santana tonight, but if you want to catch the late show, it can be arranged.”

“We’ll see,” Sean says. “I told some of the guys I’d meet them out for drinks tonight. There’s a new bar opening over in SoHo.”

A flash of irritation runs through Blaine. It’s not the turning down of sex that bothers him. He really doesn’t want to spend his evening at a bar in SoHo. He really doesn’t want to spend the evening with Sean’s questionable friends ‘Way-Too-Flirty’ Don and ‘Drinks-Too-Much’ Steve. He doesn’t even really want to go out, especially when he has to teach an early morning class. But he’s not there to tell Sean what to do.

He finishes off the sandwich without a word. It’s not like Sean feels differently about Santana.

“You know, speaking of Santana, that reminds me,” Sean says, getting up from his seat. He goes over to the counter and brings back a red envelope. “This came for you today -- from McKinley High.”

Blaine takes it with interest. He gets mailers from Dalton Academy all the time -- even if he didn’t graduate from there, he had still technically been an alumni. But something from McKinley? That just seems weird. It isn’t the right time for there to be a reunion. He has no idea what it could possibly be.

He opens it up to find a black and gold invitation. “Oh,” he says a little fondly as he reads it. “My old glee club teacher is retiring. He’s inviting everyone back for homecoming weekend to celebrate. Cute.”

Sean grabs at the paper after Blaine lets it drop back to the table. “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers quietly.

“Would you want to go?” It’s not often that Sean comes with him on the rare occasions he heads back to Ohio.

Sean hesitates before he speaks, and snacks on another couple of chips before replying. “I probably should stay to make sure Marv has a handle on this whole Ashleigh-Karyn thing. That is, unless you’d like me to go.”

Blaine stares hard at the paper. It’s not like he couldn’t go. He doesn’t have to teach on Fridays, and the school is having a holiday weekend that same weekend. In theory, he could and it wouldn’t be a problem. “I don’t even know if I should.”

“Maybe go to see your parents, Blaine,” Sean says. “It’s got to be at least a few years since you’ve seen them.”

“I saw them last year at…” Blaine considers. Has time really flown by so quickly? “Huh, I guess it has been at least two since that Christmas we spent in Ohio.” He sits back in his chair to think about it.

“Hey, Blaine…” There’s suddenly a heaviness in the air. There’s something behind Sean’s eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. Something that Blaine catches glimpses of every once in a while. Something that they’ve been avoiding and, for a moment, Blaine fears that Sean is actually going to bring it up. The room gets darker, just a cloud passing by the sun, but everything is still -- too still, and Blaine’s heart begins to race. The moment passes, though, and whatever Sean had been about to say changes. “I guess talk to Santana about it, and see what she says.”

Blaine stares down at the paper again. Suddenly, a weekend away from the apartment, away from the city, away from Sean doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

***

The fall wind is sharp in its crispness, but it’s still a nice enough evening to go for a run in Central Park. Three days a week, he and Santana Lopez go out for a jog then grab dinner at a nearby taco truck so they can sit and gossip. Santana, who’s office isn’t far from where they meet, is already waiting for Blaine when he arrives. She is stretching her legs, bent over in a V, wearing her usual black spandex pants with a bright, blue bomber jacket that billows slightly. Her designer sunglasses rest on the top of her head.

Because he has been thinking about high school all day, he can’t help but think that she hasn’t changed much. Her face has hardened a little with age, but Blaine knows her beauty care routine is much more extensive than his, and he knows how much she spends on wigs and dye jobs. Today, though, her long, black hair is pulled back tightly in a high pony, amusingly reminiscent of how she wore it in high school.

“Okay, so I have some hot goss for you today,” she says, immediately after they exchange pleasantries. She waits for him to do his own stretching, but continues to launch into her news. “So, you remember how I’ve been endlessly talking about the cute redhead on the floor below?”

“The one who works as a secretary for the greasy lawyer?” Blaine pulls his leg back. The stretching feels nice, he is glad he is able to get out of the stuffy apartment in some capacity tonight, even if he can tell Santana is a bit more ramped up than usual.

Santana nods. “So for weeks now, it’s been flirty glances, and unbuttoning buttons to show off some pretty pricey brassieres, but you know, nothing direct. Well, today she comes up to my floor, claiming the bathroom is not working in their offices -- and I checked, she was totally lying -- and she’s wearing this tight, and I mean tight, nearly see-through button-down. With no bra. She had on no bra. I could see her fucking nipples, Blaine.”

“The nerve,” Blaine teases. They begin to walk down their usual path. They have a good quarter of a mile before they usually start jogging, though they might go the first half of their two miles at a walking pace just so Santana could release her pent up energy verbally.

“Who doesn’t wear a bra in a professional setting?” Santana continues. Blaine arches an eyebrow at her. “Okay, so I have totally done it, but I promise you it was warranted. Anyway, I think she’s trying to kill me. I took all of my restraint not to pull her directly into the janitor’s closet and make out with her. And play with her tits. I can’t unsee her fucking hot tits, Blaine.” Santana grumbles, putting a fist to her head, as if it’ll magically erase the image.

“You know, you could ask for her number,” Blaine suggests, for maybe the third time since Santana has started talking about the woman. “Or, you know, find out her name.”

Santana looks at him sharply. He knows, she just wants a minute to bitch and revel in her janitor closet fantasies, but it’s not in him not to offer suggestions. “Her name is Liz. I at least found that out today.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Blaine offers.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” she asks abruptly. “Usually, you’re talking my head off about school, and I’m always having to catch up to you. You’re trailing me by nearly a foot. Something’s going on.”

Santana’s senses are rarely off, he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by it. He tries to quicken his pace but she is right, he is been in his head all day. “I’m thinking of going back to therapy.” He says it simply, laying it out as if it’s another fact, and not something that’s been weighing on his mind.

She gives him a concerned look. “Is this a ‘just you’ thing? Or a ‘you and Sean’ thing?”

“A ‘just me’ thing,” he admits. They are nearly at the lamp post where they usually start to jog, but he’s not feeling as up to it as he had been when he arrived at the park. “Sean’s staying home for a few days, and I’ve been restless lately…” he doesn’t quite say the things he’s thinking. “And, I don’t know, I had a weird sex dream this morning. I’ve been off all day.”

“Well, what does Sean think?”

“He offered to fuck, but I told him I had it taken care of.”

“What, no, not about the sex dream,” Santana stops in her tracks. They have to wait a moment for an older woman walking a doberman to pass in-between them. “What does your husband think about you going to therapy?”

“It didn’t come up.”

“God, Blaine,” Santana says, exasperated. “Well, if you really would rather spend your evening with me than reconnecting with your husband who is, as you well know, built like a fucking viking, then maybe therapy is what you need.”

It’s more complicated than that. She knows some of it, but maybe not all of it, and it’s more than Blaine would really like to get into on their fairly public walk through Central Park. But Santana has also grown to be one of his closest friends and, if nothing else, he can confide in her.

“I’m going to set up an appointment,” he tries to play it off as just another thing. She knows better, and gives him one of her infamous staredowns. “And if it’s something I think I need to continue to do, I’ll keep you informed,” he tries to assure her.

“You better, Anderson.” Her voice is sharp. “I may have a cold, dead heart, but I want you to be happy. And you know I’m always going to be blatantly honest with you, so I say this with all the love I can muster, but I don’t think you are.”

“I know, I know…” He’s not not happy. He loves his job. He loves his little apartment. He loves being in one of the greatest cities in all of the world. He and Sean are… “So, hey, did you get your invitation to Mr. Schue’s retirement party?” He begins to walk again. He knows he’s avoiding the conversation, so does Santana. But she rolls with it.

“He’s retiring? Dear god, he’s barely over fifty.”

Blaine lets out a little laugh. “Well, that’s what the invitation said.”

“And, fuck, no, I haven’t gotten one,” Santana says. “Though, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve checked the mail. Who sends invitations through the mail these days? Just start a text chain like a normal person.”

“Would you go?” He asks. He’s been back and forth on the idea all day. Does he really want or need to see anyone from high school again? Possibly? Would it be nice to get away for a weekend? Most definitely. Can he really afford to skip town for a little while? That is the big unanswered question.

Santana bites her lip, thinking it over. “I mean it really depends on who else got these magical invitations. Oh, god, will Rachel Berry be there? Please tell me Rachel Berry will be there. Because I have got to see how little Miss TV-Princess does in a place that does not revolve around her ego.”

Blaine has never had the issues with Rachel that Santana had, but he does remember college. He does remember Funny Girl. “Sorry, Santana, I don’t actually have an answer for you on that one.”

Santana throws her hands in the air. “You keep in touch with everyone, right? Well, isn’t she part of everyone?”

“I think she’s become a little out of my status level,” Blaine replies, with a smirk. “Besides, I don’t keep in touch with everyone .” Truth be told, Santana might be the only person he talks to from high school. At least on a regular basis. For all the promises made during the time of staying BFFs forever, real life managed to get in the way of the magical thinking.

“Alright, let’s work it out, right now, cause this will be the determining factor,” she says. She pulls at a leaf from one of the trees above her, causing the branch to bounce. It nearly whacks him in the head, which causes her to giggle a little and shake her head. “Let’s see… Rachel Berry, possibly. Said ego might drive her back to the place where it all began.”

“Sam Evans will probably be there,” Blaine says. “He does still live in the area.” He and Sam don’t have a lot of contact, but occasionally they’ll do a long distance Fantasy Football thing or chat about a new video game they both own. He hopes Sam will go - he could use more of that laid back charm in his life.

“Artie clearly won’t be,” Santana continues. “I know, because I’m the one who put him on the European press tour for his new film.”

“I doubt Tina will be there either,” Blaine adds. “She just had her third baby, and she and Ron probably don’t want to make the trip from Boston to Lima with three young children.”

He thinks of Tina’s Instagram, the only way he really communicates with her, and the constant updates for her hectic life. She’s happy and looking good, and way too busy to drop everything and run back to Ohio. Blaine makes a note to give her a call at some point to congratulate her formally on the new baby, even if he had already left a cute note on the Instagram pictures.

Santana is too caught up in her thought process to say more about Tina. “Finn won’t be there for obvious reasons. What the fuck happened to Puck? I doubt he has an address to even send anything to. Quinn’s too prideful to drag her divorced ass out of Connecticut. You know she’s already taken a new lover ? She’s in her mid-thirties, and still hitting up the sugardaddies. I mean, have some goddamn respect for yourself.”

“Well, Mike’s in Chicago,” Blaine offers. Mike had been part of the Chicago Ballet for a long time, and had since become a dance instructor. Blaine had been at Mike’s wedding to his wife, Marie, a couple of years ago, and he’s another one whom Blaine wouldn’t mind seeing again. Maybe he, Mike, and Sam could have a nice guys’ night out that weekend. He’ll have to get in touch.

Santana nods. They walk by a woman sitting on a bench with two screaming children. Blaine feels bad for the woman, but he and Santana share a look -- both of them glad that they don’t have to deal with that kind of hot mess at home.

“Then there’s Mercedes,” Santana says, looking up and out into the world. “Goddess among women. We do not have the privilege to be in her presence.” Santana laughs at her own comments. “Seriously, though, I love my girl, but I don’t judge her for continuing to live her best life.”

“What about Brittany?” Blaine asks, tentatively. He has no idea if this is a sore subject for her or not because he doesn’t think Santana has brought her up once over the course of their friendship.

Santana becomes stoney-faced, as if not to give herself too much away. “No,” she says simply. “Brittany’s living in some commune in LA where she does Fondue for Two and runs a cat babysitting service.”

“That’s a thing?”

“In LA it is.” A fond smile climbs on her lips. “In any case, as much as I am always up for seeing my girl again, I highly doubt she’ll be back. I mean, we were still hooking up for a while the few times I made it out to LA, but recently she’s found someone a little more… permanent. And before you go on pitying me, let me assure you, I am more than fine.” She’s quiet for a moment as she reflects. For a person who is almost always open about her thoughts, she’s decidedly reclusive when it comes to matters of her heart. Blaine knows better than to try to pry it out of her. “Anyway, if we’re going to be upfront about exes, I believe there’s only one person left, if we’re not counting random chicks with mafia dads or weird Irish exchange students. And I’m sure we both know that there’s no way in hell Lady Hummel is coming back to Lima, Ohio.”

“Oh!” Blaine says, as if it’s a complete revelation. Kurt hadn’t even entered his mind, and it is surreal to think that his brain didn’t go there first.

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you actually forgot about Lady Hummel and his heartbreaking ways,” Santana scoffs. “Pretty sure years of therapy couldn’t undo all the trauma that did.”

She isn’t wrong, and she would know, because she helped pick him up a year after everything had happened. But that’s the funny thing -- it’s not that he doesn’t remember Kurt. (God, he remembers all of Kurt.) He doesn’t remember the person he used to be when he had been with Kurt. There had been a time when he would have shifted the Sun and the Moon and the entire Earth for Kurt Hummel. A time when his heart had pointed in only one direction. And a time so dark that when Kurt had ended it, Blaine didn’t know how he would ever move on.

And yet he did.

The person he had been is now such a faded memory he can barely remember what those feelings were like. Kurt Hummel is just another name from his past, a person who, yes, helped shape him into the person he is now. But long gone are the emotions once attached to that name. Funny how things can change. Someone could mean so much to you at one point in time, and yet after time…

“I didn’t forget about Kurt, clearly,” Blaine says. He grabs her arm, and loops his own through it. The jog isn’t happening today, and he’s fine with that. Some days, it’s best just to have the company rather than the exercise. “I just think you’re right, unless Burt is dying or something. But doubtful that he’ll return for a silly retirement party.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Blaine shrugs, and gives a smile. He doesn’t know how he feels about whether or not Kurt will be there. He hasn’t thought about him so long. But he does know that after all this talk of the past, maybe he is ready to go back and see if anyone else is feeling the same way. “I think we should do it. Go back. I mean, why not?”

Santana shakes her head. “Oh, this whole idea sounds like the worst, but if there’s a chance I get to make-out with Quinn Fabray again, then I’m in.”

For the first time in a while, Blaine feels a little lighter on his feet.

***

Not a few weeks later, Blaine is on a plane back to Ohio.

He and Sean talked it over and, while Sean had been technically free to go, they agreed that maybe it would be better if Blaine went himself; the unspoken dialogue being that space isn’t the worst thing they could give each other. Blaine had not been able to help but be fidgety with his wedding ring during the flight but, intent on giving himself a weekend off from real life, he drowned himself in his favorite podcasts, and had tried not to think about his life in New York.

The party is on a Saturday afternoon, but he’s there on Friday so to spend time with his mom. They end up having a nice lunch together, and she takes him shopping. She’s as feisty as ever, somehow managing to remind Blaine of Santana, and he wonders if she’s always been like that or if that’s a new trait of being in your sixties. They end up FaceTiming with Cooper and the kids, and Blaine indulges his little nieces by singing them Disney Princess songs. The whole day weirdly feels like the family they usually are only around Christmas time, but he’s in good enough spirits that he doesn’t question it.

Later that night, his dad comes home, and they have pizza before his parents go off for one of their social benefit parties they often frequent, reminding Blaine of the old days when his parents were never home on a Friday night. He doesn’t mind so much because McKinley’s Homecoming Football game is that night.

His original plan had been to meet up with Sam since Santana’s plane isn’t coming in until tomorrow. But Sam declined, stating that Mercedes Jones is coming late that night and she needs a ride from the airport. Sam didn’t ask Blaine to come with him. Blaine calls up Mike, who is happy to hear from him, and says that he will be at the party but is only going to make the trip to Lima once on Saturday. He doesn’t bother trying to get a hold of anyone else, and ends up going to the game alone.

Coming back to McKinley feels like going back in time, and yet the kids running around make him feel entirely too old to be there. He half expects Sue Sylvester to pop out and start yelling at the cheerleaders, or Mr. Figgins to make some sort of half-time speech, but the world of McKinley has moved on, even if the campus has remained remarkably the same. The game is fun, but kind of boring, and he’s not surprised when the team loses by seventeen points. Still, seeing the array of alumni all cheering around him, he feels a strange sort of connection to the place in a way that he really didn’t when he actually went to the school. It’s a bit surreal.

Afterwards, not ready to go home to an empty house, he drives around for a bit, until by chance, he drives by Scandals, Lima’s decrepit excuse for a gay bar. Feeling somewhat amused, a little nostalgic, and a lot in need of a drink, he decides to grab a beer for old times’ sake. He decides, on a whim, to put his wedding ring in his pocket. He’s not actually planning anything, but it’s also not like Sean wears his anymore, anyway.

Scandals is even more in a sad state of affairs then he remembers, even if ‘Funk-It-Up-Friday’ is trying to give the place some of that Mid-Western Charm. He orders a bottled beer, and sips as he thinks fondly about the time he watched Dave Karofsky try to line dance. God, that had been so long ago…

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you. Mind if I buy you a drink?”

It takes a moment for Blaine to realize the pick-up line is directed at him, but he does instantly recognize the voice. Much to his shock, when he turns around, he’s face to face with a much older, and yet still dazzlingly magnificent, Kurt Hummel.

#s.o. writes things #head over feet #klaine #klaine fic #it's the older klaine reunion fic!#i'm loving writing this one

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littlelasagne · 3 years

Note

Are we going to have a new chapter this week?🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

I'm afraid not 😫 I've been slow and busy and every time I sit to write/edit I'm not very productive 😭 but I can share a lil bit of chapter 25's opening. It's not edited so pls excuse typos/grammar lol

I'll post more WIPs as I go, thanks for waiting for meeeeeeeee

Entering the office to his colleagues crowded around a computer wasn’t an unusual sight. Sometimes Petra needed Nanaba’s opinion on a dress, or Oluo showed them some idiotic video that made them cry with laughter. But when Levi entered the office with Erwin the morning after their ball trip, their laughter tumbled dead and Nanaba jumped for the mouse.

Levi knew what they were looking at.

“Oi.” He swiftly dumped his bag by his chair, carefully put his tea down and strutted over to Nanaba’s computer, all before they had a chance to disperse.

“Levi, it’s nothing!” Oluo said.

Petra leapt and covered the screen with her arms.

Nanaba couldn’t get the cursor there fast enough. Levi caught a flash of a pink backside through Petra’s arms. She moved her arms in resignation. Levi tutted.

It was his pink backside. At the bar. Niles’ skinny legs underneath.

“The fuck is this?” he managed.

“We were just having a look.” Nanaba was the only person brave enough to speak. “It’s quite funny actually.”

“Delete it. Now.”

“I-I can’t, it’s not mine, it’s being shared everywhere,” Nanaba said. She scrolled down the website, but Levi turned his head away as the pink flashed across the screen.

“Let’s see what happened, then.” Erwin made it over. “The mess I had to fix.” He gave Levi a look. It was neither disapproving nor positive.

“I said delete them.” Levi huffed.

“Is that Hange?”

“Wow, she’s brave.”

“She looks good!”

“Oh, she got Nile so good!”

“Scroll back up, go back, what does that comment say?” Erwin leaned over Nanaba’s shoulder, pointing with weird glee.

Nanaba struggled to get the words out through her giggling. “‘I’d let him smack me around’, ‘he can choke me any time of day–’”

“Shut it, stop it, fuck it, we’re stopping this right now,” Levi shoved Oluo out of the way and grappled the mouse from Nanaba. The two struggled for a brief, confusing moment. Levi won. He didn’t bother closing the window, he shut down the entire computer.

“Excuse me! I had work open!”

“Fucking weirdos, staring at my ass,” Levi muttered, neatening his tie and walking to his desk. “We have work to do, Oluo, fill me in on what I missed.”

They went back to their desks, Erwin to his office. The chatter died down and Levi was at peace again as Oluo listed off all the important thing Levi needed address. He could put the ball and Lara and Nile behind him. It was honest mistake, as Hange had said.

Eld entered the office, holding a bouquet of flowers. With every step, he crinkled the cellophane needlessly. Levi shuddered at the sound.

“Picked up these flowers from reception. ‘Thanks for the generous donation, Erwin and co.’,” Eld announced. “From a ‘Miss L. Tybur’. We got a vase up here?”

Levi shuddered even harder but tuned his mind to work. He turned on his computer when his phone flashed.

‘You were in london and you didn’t text me?! I’m offended! Had to hear from mother that you caused a scene as well. I’m doubly offended I missed that!!’ Frieda. With all the drama, he’d forgotten to reach out to her.

“Here you go, boss.” Eld placed the bouquet on Levi’s desk and wandered off without a second thought. Levi fumed. A bouquet of red tulips. Her favourite flower. And she loved them even more when he bought them for her.

He barely had a minute to process the thought when the office door slammed open. Petra jumped with a scream. Someone dropped their coffee on the floor and groaned.

“Levi!” Zoë Hange’s rude voice. What was she doing here now? They had just said goodbye at the coffee shop ten minutes ago. What could she have possibly gotten into? Levi spun in his chair to see her bounding over to him to like a puppy. A puppy carrying a potted plant that was taller than her.

“You’ll never guess what!” she gasped and scrambled to his desk. “There was this man with plants behind my building! Look, a monstera!”

“Is that a cheese plant?” Nanaba appeared out of nowhere, her elbows rested on the back of Levi’s chair.

“Wow, Hange, it's so big! How much did it cost?” Petra had joined the circus.

“Nothing! It was free – he had to get rid of them in a hurry… not sure why though.” Hange eyed the leaves. “You’re very beautiful and healthy, aren’t you? Don’t know why some silly man would get rid of you!”

“You took a two-metre cheesy shit plant off some dodgy hooded stranger from an alleyway, and didn’t think to ask why he was getting rid of them?” Levi narrowed his eyes. It was too early for Hange’s bullshit.

“Nope!” Hange laughed. “But I’m only here because Grisha won’t let me keep him in the building – health and safety or something… contamination… I don’t know – it’s not fair, what did this plant to do him? – anyway, I was wondering if I could leave Dr. Death here for the day.. He won't bother you, or contaminate your computers or whatever.”

“Dr. Death?” Levi rolled his eyes.

“Of course, Hange,” Nanaba answered warmly. “Pop him by Levi’s desk, and Levi will bring him home for you tonight.”

“Not touching that. Dunno where it’s been.”

“I sanitised the pot in the lab! With actual lab disinfectant! God, do you think I’m that much of an animal?” Hange groaned.

“Yes.” Levi rolled his eyes again, but softened as her eyes implored him.

“Please! It’s so heavy, and you were the one who insisted on walking to work this morning! I would’ve driven today!”

“Ask Erwin.”

“He’ll do it, Hange,” Nanaba reassured. “You can put Dr. Death down.”

“Oh, Levi! You’re the best! I knew I could count on you!”

Hange placed the plant next to Levi’s desk with utmost care, then did something so brazen, so bizarre, and so unnecessary. She hugged him. In front of the entire office. She crouched to his level and squeezed hard, then squished her cheek against his. Then, as if nothing happened, she turned and left, saying goodbyes or something to the others, Levi wasn’t sure. He couldn’t hear a thing, he couldn’t think, all he could do was grab his tea and hide behind it.

He swivelled his chair to face his computer. Someone chuckled from the other side of the office, but no one dared say a thing.

“How sweet of you,” Nanaba whispered in Levi’s ear, then flicked the back of his burning neck.

#anon asks #bmo #WIP #levihan #i'm so busy #got 4 bdays and a wedding coming up #so lots of travelling and busy weekends #oh wait my dads bday as well #5 BDAYS WHY IS EVERYONE BORN NOW LOL #woe is me #im also sick thankfully i tested neg for covid #woe is really me

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the-writers-bookshelf · 3 years

Note

I recently stopped writing a book I'd been working on for four years. Much of the reason I was able to work on it for so long, I believe, was because of the spite I felt for a friend criticizing it heavily (Long story). I want to work on something big again, but because I had the old project for so long, I worry about not being able to commit. What advice, if any, would you have?

Wonderful question, lovely!

I'm so sorry you experienced harsh criticism for your work, especially from a friend. That's really rough :(

I don't think you have to worry too much about your level of commitment though! You stuck with your previous WIP with determination and dedication, despite naysayers! That shows your crazy level of strength!

Every writing project will teach you something new. Your spite motivation will still come into play at some point when you hand over your WIP to betas. There will always be someone out there seeking to tear you down.

But for your next project, you'll be creating from a different emotional and psychological space. It will take time to navigate that, settling into it. There will be a learning curve that might feel weird if you don't have that spite fuel revving your engine.

Also, your next WIP might not be the entirely clean slate that you think it will be. Chances are, experiencing that kind of criticism will leave lasting effects that filter into other projects.

So here are a few tips I have to face your next WIP!

1. Jump in and see how it goes

The catch-22 about writing is that it's very straight forward...even though we want it to be trickier than that. The best way to learn is to do it. Put words on the page and edit those words until you have the story you want to tell.

In this case, you have a new landscape of story/stories waiting for you to write! And that might be a little daunting.

So take the dive and start writing! You will only be able to tell your level of commitment once you're in the thick of it and you realize, "I want to fight for this story."

2. Feed the spite beast

Get feedback on your writing! I'm right there with you on the motivation power of spite (it's my #1 go-to honestly). If that's what it takes to get you fired up to beat that story into submission 'cause you're gonna SHOW EVERYONE YOU WILL FINISH THIS STORY DAMMIT then use that to your advantage! Ask someone to shred your manuscript and it might give you the rocket boost you need to see that WIP to completion!

But there's a catch here too: don't get feedback too early in your writing because it could crush your creativity and the flow of ideas.

3. Give yourself space to breathe and heal

On the other end of the spectrum, you could try a writing project for yourself alone. Don't show it to anyone. You might need some time to breathe, heal, and learn how to write just for yourself without processing feedback.

#asks #monaluisa #hope that helps!

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bard-llama · 2 years

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I would love a snippet from Gascon has painting class for the wip game!

Okay, so first, it's important to me that you know that this is in a WiP doc simply called CRIME 😂😂 This one is a sequel to Forged in Oil, where Reynard basically finds out that Gascon teaches painting to his soldiers and is really, really good at forging art - but he likes to put the faces of people he knows on the pieces. And then, just to be a dick, Gascon hung the portrait he did with Reynard's face up in Reynard's receiving room and Reynard cannot get it down lmao

I actually have a whole plan for this series, or at least working with the same premise. I mean, it's now my permanent headcanon that Gascon forges paintings bc his mom made him learn how to paint when he was a kid. But how the others find out about that is very, very fun to explore. Also, somewhere in all of these, there's gonna be an arc about Gascon starting to let himself paint original art and not just copies. This is the artist whose art inspired this thought process lol Their impressionist style and use of colors is so amazing to me, I love them so much.

Anyway, this snip is the next morning and is actually the start of a story about how Meve is beautiful and Gascon and Reynard love her whether she has scars or not, but considering having them means she's alive, they quite like them. But Meve deserves some time to be self-concsious and be reassured.

The morning after Reynard spent half the night attempting to remove the painting with his own face from the wall – unsuccessfully, mind you – found Reynard and Meve walking the grounds together early in the morning. Too early, really, when he’d been up so late, but all time with Meve was a treasure and he could hardly let a little exhaustion get in the way of a romantic stroll through the blooming flowers.

In fact, Reynard was so absorbed in Meve that he’d almost forgotten about the source of his sleeplessness – right up until they stumbled upon the impudent young brat hosting an art class in the royal garden.

“Oh,” Meve let out a surprised noise, clearly not having expected to face her soldiers quite yet.

A quick review showed that all of them were soldiers who had accompanied them on the quest, and Reynard could tell from the line of Meve’s shoulder that she was relieved at that. One always wanted to look their best before their subordinates, but some things became less significant after having fought through hell together and – more significantly – surviving a rash of food poisoning brought on by a bad stew. When all of them had seen each other afflicted by the shits, it was difficult to get too worked up over a show of ill grace.

After all, the soldiers had seen worse than their queen and general holding hands. Right?

With an awkwardly cleared throat, Meve’s slight but strong hand slipped out of his. She tried to cover the movement by stepping forward and asking what was going on, but without her warmth against his palm, it felt cold.

It also meant, he realized belatedly, that there was nothing holding him back from throttling the cause of his woe.

“It’s an art class,” Gascon answered his queen brightly. “Right now, we’re studying the Baroque style of art. Like–” his face paled rather abruptly as he caught sight of Reynard and the moment Reynard took a step forward, he blurted out, “sorry, gotta go!” and bolted.

Too dignified to give chase, Reynard snarled under his breath.

Meve turned back to him, eyebrow cocked, and Reynard could see the wayward art students all listening in. At least that was taken care of with a single look. The speed with which each of his soldiers shoved their supplies into their bags and booked it was actually rather amusing.

Finally, when Reynard stood alone with Meve, the roses, and Gascon’s abandoned easel, she asked the question he was dreading.

“What did he do now?” Her voice was exasperated, but not particularly troubled.

“Ah,” Reynard grasped for some way to stall. How could he tell her that instead of her official portrait above his fireplace, a ridiculous painting with his own face hung? It was obscene!

If anything, his hesitation made her more intrigued. “Whatever it is, he clearly got you worked up.”

He flushed lightly, then sighed and hoped he could answer his queen without outright telling her. “I was up half the night dealing with his latest prank.”

Clearing his throat and avoiding her gaze, he rounded Gascon’s easel – and then groaned.

“Apparently,” he grumbled, beckoning her over, “Gascon enjoys putting other people’s faces on his forged paintings.”

Meve’s face was baffled, right up until she stood beside him, at which point she gasped. “Oh, but that’s beautiful. Gascon painted that?”

“Mmm,” he grunted. It was true that Gascon very clearly had skill – but why their faces!?

This painting, at least, did not involve nudity. And the fact that that wasn’t a given for any painting involving Meve’s face said far too much about Gascon’s blatant disregard for propriety.

Instead, it was a portrait of a woman from the shoulder up. She was half-turned away from the viewer, head twisted to look out of the canvass. Against the black background, the bright tones of her body popped out and, unless Reynard was very much mistaken, Gascon had added glitter to the pearl earring the painting was named for. Only instead of the Kaedweni woman, it was Meve’s own face staring out at them. Her expression was soft in a way Meve rarely allowed anyone to see, and she was clearly surprised to face it here.

“It really looks like me,” she said softly, touching her own face. No, Reynard realized. Touching her scar. The scar that was not included in the painting.

The painting is Girl With a Pearl Earring by Johannes Vermeer

And also, just so no one thinks Gascon thinks any less of her beauty:

“On the painting,” Reynard said impatiently. “Why didn’t you include Meve’s scar?”

Gascon blinked several more times. “Because it’s not done yet? I haven’t done any of the details yet. What, did you not notice that she has no eyelashes either?”

From Reynard’s surprised face, he had not. Gascon sighed.

“Why? I mean, it’s always a shame to leave a painting unfinished, so thanks for saving it, I guess, but uh… what’s the big deal?”

“Ugh,” Reynard groaned quietly, setting the painting down on the coffee table and dropping the bag of supplies next to it, then sitting heavily on the couch and rubbing his hands over his face.

Gascon let him ruminate in silence for a long minute, but soon, impatience won out. “So?”

“Meve saw it,” Reynard reported, looking down on his hands, hanging limply between his knees.

“Okay. And?”

“It doesn’t look unfinished,” Reynard said, dancing around the point in a way that was highly unusual for the blunt man.

“That’s because I’m talented,” Gascon said easily. “Why does that matter?”

“Because the painting is beautiful and it doesn’t include her scar.”

Gascon blinked again, several times in quick succession. “Wait, are you saying Meve is self-conscious over her scar? That’s ridiculous! If anything, she looks even more badass with it!”

Reynard’s lips twitched in what Gascon decided meant agreement, but he didn’t say anything.

#throne3 #meve x reynard x gascon #ask #ask game #WiPs #thronebreaker #the witcher

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lonestarpost · 3 years

Text

April 26, 2021~ Masterlist ~ Issue 12

Episode Review

by @lonestarbabe

9-1-1: Lone Star’s ninth episode of season two breaks the hiatus with one of the season’s strongest episodes; in this episode, the showrunners prioritize quality storytelling (many thanks to writer Tonya Kong), and while the episode focuses heavily on past events, it creates an atmosphere that allows extensive character development moving forward. The episode shows viewers Grace and Judd’s story, and it does so in a way that highlights their bright future and how they have built a healthy, happy future together by first creating a solid foundation for themselves. “Saving Grace” stands out because of its attention to detail and the complex dynamics it beautifully fleshes out. The episode is rooted in humanity; the characters are not perfect, but through those flaws, viewers see the power of interpersonal relationships and the ability of people to save one another in a myriad of ways.

Throughout the episode, Judd is lost, but one grounding force saves him from his demons: his wife, Grace Ryder. As the episode kicks off, Judd is a young kid joyriding with his friend. As Judd sits behind the wheel, a tragic accident causes his friend to die, and Judd is left with a wealth of guilt and self-doubt. Despite Grace being in grave danger after the accident, during the entirety of the episode, it is Judd who needs saving from the complex emotions that haunt him. When Judd is in danger, Grace is there for him, even when she is a hospital bed. Judd wants to take revenge on the drunk driver who drove him and Grace off the road, but then, Grace wakes up, and Judd comments that Grace has saved the drunk driver. Before that, before Grace and Judd have met face to face, they begin correspondence when Judd calls a Christian crisis hotline that Grace works at as she finishes school. Seeing their relationship develop over the phone shows the deep connection that the couple has, and in Judd’s darkest moments, Grace was there for him, and her voice saved him from his own self-destruction.

After reciting Psalm 31, which Judd has tattooed on his hand, Grace says, “None of us are perfect. It’s by Grace that we’re saved,” and this line expertly reinforces the themes of the episode. Just before he nearly beats the drunk driver who ran him and Grace off the road, we see Judd getting the tattoo, which shows Judd’s mindset. He is thinking about Grace and how she has saved him. Judd himself was responsible, at least in part, for somebody’s death; that guilt has made it hard for him to recover mentally, but grace has gotten him through. Even so, he struggles to extend forgiveness to the man who has hurt Grace. The reminder of his own trauma is fresh, but Judd is still a flawed, emotional person who needs tempering, and with Grace unconscious, he feels untethered. He’s back to being an angry person, who still blames himself for the death of his friend.

Judd once fought to make amends with Leigh-Ann, the mother of the kid who died in the car, and these parallels show how hard it is to forgive. But the forgiveness ultimately isn’t about giving a gift to someone who has done wrong; in this story, it is shown as a way of saving yourself. Instead of getting trapped in the bitterness, forgiveness allows the characters to heal themselves. Early in the episode, Leigh-Ann is hurt on the floor of her home; this portrayal represents how her son’s death debilitated her. She holds unto her anger, but as Judd makes amends by fixing Leigh-Ann’s fence (a white picket fence that represents the ideal American home, which has become dirty and has fallen apart since Cal’s death), and he takes a devastated property and makes it a home. After watching Judd work for a while as she recovers, Leigh-Ann finally gives Judd water, and not only does Judd make amends, but Leigh-Anne has physically recovered since we last saw her. She still has a sling on her arm, but she’s on the way to healing. Likewise, when Judd goes to see the man who nearly killed Grace, he is in the process of healing himself. He’s just gotten out of bed from his own injuries. His body is still battered, but as he backs away from the man because of Grace waking up, it marks that Judd is healing too, not just physically but he’s also learning to focus on what matters rather than the anger he feels. In the end, it is love and care that brings the character happiness, and it makes them happier to focus on the things that save them rather than what hurts them. Love, from the 126 and from Grace, keep Judd from self-destructing from his guilt and rage.

The title works on a number of levels. While it seems at first glance that the episode is about “Saving Grace” from the accident that has nearly killed her, the essence of the episode is that Grace is Judd’s “Saving Grace.” Not only that, but she is thousands of people’s “Saving Grace.” In her career, she has been a voice of reason and hope. Even when she can’t save a life, as with the astronaut in the season one finale, her voice still provides comfort and a sense of salvation to people who are hurting. It’s not just Grace that saves Judd. In many ways, Judd also sparks Grace’s own decisions. As Grace falls in love with Judd, she realizes that going to graduate school far away isn’t her calling. She doesn’t stay because of Judd, but there’s no doubt that her connection with Judd helped Grace realize that saving people was her calling. She decides to become a 9-1-1 operator, and for thousands of people, she becomes a “Saving Grace” on the other end of the line.

“Saving Grace,” is one of the best episodes of the series, and arguably, it is the most artfully written. It stands out because the details add up in a way that drives the plot and character development. It excels at showing rather than just telling the viewers the vital details of the story. Grace is an angel, and one of her greatest strengths is bringing people together and comforting them in their times of need. When she saves people, she then allows them to save countless others. Through Grace, Judd is a hero in his own right, but he is the kind that gets glory, while Grace’s role is more understated but just as important. The episode mostly focuses on Judd’s history, but when you look at it closely, the role of Grace, understated but poignant, is what stands out the most.

The Edits Edit

Some of the best edits this week that deserve all the love.

Carlos Reyes, 911 Lone Star 1.01 by @reyeslonestar is an amazing piece of fan art, and as usual, Alice is an amazing talent that we should all appreciate.

This Grace and Judd gifset by @ronenrubinstein is just WOW. I love looking at it and cannot stop!

Marjan Marwani by @alwaysablossom is soooooo pretty. I love the colors and all the details more than I can say!

SIERRA MCCLAIN as GRACE RYDER by @bucktks is an amazing edit that highlights Grace. You should also check out this one, which is equally good! Finally, take a look at this Tarlos set! (They all are amazing.)

Judd & Owen in 2x09 (Pt2) by @911dawnstar is such a well-done gifset, and I love seeing Judd and Owen being a wonderful duo. Also look at Part 1!

“We’re gonna have a new little Texan running around!” by @shoenaerts makes me swoon, and my heart can barely handle it because Grace and Judd are the definition of LOVE. This one is also beautiful.

the ryders + howdy. by @laurenkmyers makes my heart beat faster... I love it so much.

This Grace and Judd moment by @chrissiewatts makes me cry every time I see it AHHH.

These gifs by @strandtk is so amazing. I am in love with this edit! This one too!

This gif by @jessie-meili showcases Grace in the perfect way!

Group Hugs by @rafasilvas is one of my fave gifsets ever and highlights wonderful parallels of the 126 family. I’m in love.

The truth is, I think I just wanted to hear your voice. by @buckleys-diaz is soooooo dreamy and beautiful.

Fic Recs

remind us where we've been by @morganaspendragonss (hollyhobbit101)

Word Count: 564

Chapters: 1/1

“This is something, ain’t it?” Judd says, nudging Owen gently. Owen looks around Judd's backyard, taking it all in - TK and Carlos with their two kids, Judd's three milling around, their whole family gathered together in a future Owen's not sure he ever imagined even in his wildest dreams. "It's something," he agrees.

Home is wherever you are by @sixringss (buckscasey)

Word Count: 1651

Chapters: 1/1

A week after the fire, Carlos goes back to his home.Speculation for 2x12/13

Get Me off the Boat, I'm Ready to be on Land by @silvarafael (tiniestmite)

Word Count: 3966

Chapters: 1/1

Five times TK’s sobriety is tested after he arrives in Austin but he keeps it to himself, and the one time it gets so bad that he tells someone.

The Way Our Horizons Meet (chapter 1) by @chicgeekgirl89 (Writeallnight)

Word Count: 1500

Chapters: 1/3 (WIP)

Carlos' perspective through the aftermath of T.K.'s shooting. Follows the events of episodes 1x08-1x10.

You Found Me (Did You Ever Doubt I Would?) (Chapter 10) by @doctornineandthreequarters (doctornineandthreequarters)

Word Count: 2736

Chapters: 10/? (standalone works)

Tarlos college au

#masterlist #911 lone star #lone star post #issue 12

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loopy777 · 3 years

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RE: WIPs game: do I even want to know what Dicebenders is is it another scam how many times are the Gaang gonna get arrested for scamming

No, this time it's me scamming people. XD The dice in question are the RPG Dungeons & Dragons kind.

For a while I was doing a screencap webcomic in the style of "DM of the Rings" and "Darths & Droids" with another creative fan named Captain Boomerang. I was the scriptwriter and selected the screenshots for each panel, and Capt-BA would assemble the comics and improve my scripts (a process that did frustrate me a little, as I felt locked out of the revision process, but I did like the results. I just felt like I wasn't holding up my end of the partnership a bit). I wrote a story bible explaining the characters and storytelling rules, planned out the adaptation of the entire AtLA premiere, and had less detailed plans for the rest of the series, but we only got 6 comics in before Capt-BA went on a trip and never returned to the internet. I did manage to re-establish contact with her long enough to get permission to continue the comic, but the problem is that I have no image-editing skills whatsoever.

If I could find comic-making software that I know would do what I want and be easy to use, I wouldn't mind dropping some money on it, but everything I've looked at is trying to do lots of things I don't need. I only want a way to import existing pictures into comic grids, and then easily add dialogue bubbles. That's it. But the stuff I've found is more about image-editing than comic assembly, and it takes me an hour to put together a dialogue bubble that looks good. So I have 3 scripts that were never produced, which along with the planning docs are what's in that WIP folder, and I don't ever see myself going beyond that.

Besides, someone else already managed to complete something like this, and while I'm not a fan, I don't need to be. At this point, Dicebenders is dead. I'm glad I tried it, and it's a shame it didn't work out, but I'm happy with the other projects I've done instead.

I am squatting on an empty Tumblr for it, though.

Anyway, to share something new, here's the first section of the Story Bible I wrote to make sure Capt-BA and I were on the same page in terms of characterization. The rest of the bible details the plotlines for full series.

AVATAR: THE LAST DICEBENDER

BIBLE

Premise- A small group of players attempt to run a fantasy martial arts RPG that winds up essentially becoming the Avatar saga, or something very close. The main point of the series is comedy, based mostly on ridiculous links between Avatar and RPG's. Sometimes the humor will be in the vast difference between what happens in the comic, and what happens in the cartoon with the same screenshots. Other times, the funny will come from the unexpected ways they converge.

SPIRITUAL PREDECESSORS

DM of the Rings- The original, and my personal favorite. It's a good showcase of how to run a single quest together, while using narrative jumps to skip to the good bits.

Darths & Droids- A similar project, this stands out from its predecessor in two main ways. The players and GM are more friendly with each other, and are more or less having fun with each other. There is also a running, coherent storyline in both the game and in the lives of the players.

Benders & Brawlers- This is actually an existing attempt to do Darths & Droids with Avatar. This is helpful as an example of what we DON'T want to do, retell the Avatar story in a completely straightforward manner, with RPG players behind the characters.

CHARACTERS

None of the characters will be given real names. The players shall always be referred to by their character names, although this can be done in a teasing, ironic manner. When the characters are speaking, their dialogue bubble must always be attached to an image of the character.

The Gamemaster- The GM is a female in her early teens. She is a geek, and a bit of a social outcast for it. Nevertheless, she's trying to make that work for her, although she's not quite mature enough to make it happen yet. She has just discovered RPG's, and in her enthusiasm has gone all out in starting her own campaign. The only problem is that she doesn't know how to recruit players, so she ropes her best friend and little brother into playing with her. This is the GM's first campaign, so she'll a little in over her head. She knows the mechanics of play, and what she's supposed to be doing as GM, but doesn't have the fine skill in crafting an engaging RPG experience. Still, she wants to do her best, is willing to learn, and has a positive attitude about the whole thing. The GM has a strong crush on the Sokka player, but the only way she can express it is by having all the female NPC's flirt with the Sokka character.

Katara- Female in early teens, and the GM's best friend. Katara's player was friends with the GM from when they were both in grammar school, so while they have grown up into wildly different personality types, they are fully loyal to each other. Katara is popular, and outgoing, and doesn't care or know about geek stuff at all. She's only playing the game because the GM begged her to. At first, Katara is clueless about RPG's, and frequently questions or ridicules the mechanics of the game. She never quite gets into the idea of role-playing, but quickly takes to the idea of meta-gaming. She'll have her character act like a righteous do-gooder, because completing missions and fighting bad guys earns XP. She hoards items that will boost her stats. She'll advocate abandoning a mission/plot if it doesn't pay out enough rewards. Katara's player also can tend towards trying to Mary Sue her character, but this is inconsistent and usually shot down by everyone else.

Aang- Male in junior high, and the GM's little brother. He plays simply because his sister has cajoled him into it, and there are hints that he's getting some kind of reward or payment for it. He abuses his position by forcing the GM to give him what he wants in the game, even if it breaks the rules- access to the restricted Airbender class, the ability to bend all four elements, overloaded stats, an Avatar State that protects him from dying, a magic super flying cow ride, etc. However, it's important to note that Aang's player isn't a jerk. He's just immature, and like all kids, just always goes for what he wants via the easiest path, and doesn't realize that he may be causing trouble or hurting feelings. He's enthusiastic about trying out this RPG thing, but he has trouble coming up with any action beyond attacking or retreating. He's also hyper aware that the GM and Katara are girls. He is too old for cootie concerns, but thinks that girls are fundamentally different creatures with their own incomprehensible concerns. Having a big sister, he doesn't find this a big deal, just part of life. Aang's player is too young to be a geek. He likes cartoons and sports and fantasy and school-dramas. He also tends to follow whatever his sister likes.

Sokka- Male in late teens. This guy is your quintessential RPG player. He has is own top-quality dice, he's played campaigns and systems of all kinds, and knows the tropes of the hobby cold. He's a huge geek for all things geeky, but roleplay is easily his favorite. He's a social outcast, but he's made friends among his fellow geeks, and thinks life is just fine. Sokka's player joins when he meets the GM at the comic/games shop they both frequent. The GM was buying some sourcebooks and material to support the fantasy martial arts game she's running, and Sokka noticed, asked about it, liked what he heard, and got permission to join the game. What Sokka doesn't realize, because he is a geek and neither has experience with it or realizes it's even possible, is that the GM is sweet on him. This manifests in the character Sokka's canon luck with the ladies, only kicked up a notch. *Every single* female NPC flirts with him, whether it's appropriate or not. Sometimes player Sokka notices and tries to roleplay it, and sometimes he's just plain confused. Sokka has a few quirks. His best set of dice are his Lucky Red Dice, which always roll high when he needs it, but have been tested and proven to be fair dice. He also mandates that every character he plays use a boomerang; he was turned into a geek by the first video game he ever played, a Legend of Zelda title, and his favorite weapon from those games are the boomerang. Each of his characters has a unique, named boomerang.

Zuko- The GM's favorite NPC. She created him to be a compelling, dramatic character, with a complicated back story, moral struggles, badass loner personality, angst about his existence, a darkly noble quality, and a cool scar. The GM intended Katara to get to know Zuko, for her to try to woo him away from the side of evil, and perhaps to even have a romance with him. The PC's, however, couldn't care less about him. To them, he's just another mini-boss, and the fact that most of his character development is happening "off screen" means they don't realize that he's recruitable. A frequent gag is Zuko delivering a stirring monologue while no one pays attention.

Iroh- Background NPC. The GM tries to use him to give (ignored) hints to the players.

Toph- (tentative) A male munchkin gamer who picked a long list of weaknesses in order to get superbending. Toph's player is a friend of Sokka's player, brought in after an "incident" with his old group, and causes some initial resentment in the group when tries to show the n00bs how its done. Cowing Toph's player is a major victory for the GM.

Momo- NPC, but maybe make him a talking sidekick who gives the players hints when the GM is really exasperated?

Azula- the GM's best favorite villain. Azula is the GM unleashed, letting her take out frustrations on the players in both combat and harsh taunting. Eventually the GM comes to like the character so much, she retcons mental health issues into the character's backstory, and has her pet NPC, Zuko, spare her.

#dicbender #avatarpg

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itswildwinters · 3 years

Text

Ask for writers

Thank you @theisolatedlily and @soldouthaz for tagging me, I really appreciate it! This lovely tag was created by @soldouthaz, which I think is brilliant to get to know other writers!! I love it, so thank you Sarah!

This is quite long, but I still hope it’s entertaining!

1. describe how you first started writing and when you first posted: I’ve always wanted to write. I know that I only began publishing this year (January 2020) but years back, I always would open up a blank document and just... write. Lack of confidence and language barriers (I wanted to write in English, but it isn’t my first language and I only became fluent three years ago) have made it so that I would never finish a story. I think we all had our wattpad moment but even on there I would never really publish because the platform just wasn’t right. But then I discovered ao3, where I’d read fics and also improve my English. Then I found out about fests, and I decided to participate in one last year (2019 BLFF) and my first fic then came out!

And ever since, I’ve been able to write and finish what I start. It’s as if the lock that had been put to block my creativity had been destroyed; posting my first completed fic has acted as a turning point. I was extremely nervous when I first posted, still am, but now I have this need to write and I love sharing what I write and ever since I became a writer, my life’s been a lot better!

2. which of your characters do you typically resonate most closely with? do you base any characters off of yourself?: I switch between Louis’ POV, or Harry’s POV depending on the story; I tend to sprinkle a bit of myself in the characters I write, but then again they’re also completely different from me! I’ve never based a character completely on myself, which I find quite boring (haha); sometime unconsciously, I’d write a character based on someone I knew. I think some examples on how my characters can look a bit like me, is Hamlet in a sea of mist which has gotten his clear-headedness from me; or in my Murder Mystery fic, the way I describe Louis’ fear is heavily based on how I feel whenever I’m faced with something that makes me uncomfortable.

3. where do you often find inspiration?: art (paintings, music), books, quotes, poems and movies!

4. has quarantine helped or hindered your writing process?: having so much free time on my hands has definitely helped; I would seek refuge within my stories, to spice up quarantine!

5. do you listen to music/noise while you write or do you prefer silence? I love love love playing classical music (Chopin, Saint-Saens, Debussy, Yiruma, Einaudi, Faulkner, Schumann, Tchaikovsky, Mozart to name a few) while writing. I can’t write when it’s anything else. But I can also write when there’s nothing; hearing the rhythmic clicking sound of the keyboard as I press over its keys can be relaxing to me.

6. what is your biggest writing pet peeve in your writing or in general?: hm in my writing I guess I tend to write very long sentences, and also I still do grammar mistakes. I hope to work on those points. I also find the way I space my fics very annoying (which is why I’ve begun making outlines!).

7. describe your ideal writing setup: in a couch or a bed with several pillows piled up behind my back, classical music in my ears and a steaming cup of tea next to me.

8. favorite time of day to write?: I love writing when it’s very early, usually after I’ve woken up and freshened up. I don’t like writing when it’s too late because I’m not a night owl; rather an early bird. I especially love when I write and it’s still dark outside, then slowly dawn breaks in and the sky becomes tainted in warm hues of orange, yellow and sometimes even purple and pink.

9. favorite genre to write + one you’d like to try writing in the future?: I love writing fantasy, horror, suspense, action, thrillers. Especially angst and hurt/comfort, as well as slow burn. I’d like in the future to explore sci-fi and magical realism!

10. do you struggle with writer’s block? how do you typically overcome it? I haven’t suffered from writer block so far, which I’m glad!!

11. what is the easiest part of your writing process and the most difficult? writing is the easiest, but outlining (as in, coming up with plot ideas) is quite difficult for me. Also dialogues can be a bit of a problem to me.

12. how do you come up with original characters? (if applicable): I just make them up in my mind, and create them when they’re necessary to the story, giving them personality traits that will help the story develop.

13. what is your favorite and least favorite word? it’s hard to choose cause I have several but favourite: petrichor and least favourite: big

14. what is one thing about your writing that you’re really proud of and one thing you hope to continue working at?: I am proud of the way I describe, which allows me to really settle the story in its verse. I love describing, giving importance to the ordinary. Also feelings; I love describing them and exploring how I can translate them into words, so that the reader can feel them. But I have to work on my dialogues methinks.

15. what work of yours has your favorite ‘verse/world building? how did you come up with it?: those who from the Pit of Hell, roam to seek their prey on earth. I’ve always wanted to begin writing thrillers/Murder mystery fics and with that one I think I managed to? I had read an article on forensic medicine back in the 19th century and it sparked this fic’s plot!

16. what font and size do you write in? single spaced or double?: Arial, 11pt, single spaced

17. what is a typo(s) you find yourself making consistently?: I don’t know if this can be considered as a typo but I tend to repeat, within a paragraph, A LOT my character’s name instead of using pronouns. This is because I’m afraid of confusion when another character arrives in the scene.

18. (if applicable) do you separate fic writing from fandom?: I don’t know if I understood the question properly, but yes? When I use Louis or Harry in my fics, they’re completely different from real-Louis or real-Harry; they’re my characters, they only have the same names, but their personality reflects in nothing real-life Harry and Louis.

I think to answer this better: I do separate fic writing from fandom, but I still think that fanfics are important to a fandom; I haven’t heard of a fandom without fanfics! Fanfics spice up fandoms, I reckon, they’re important to bring people together.

19. what emotion is your favorite to write? which is the most difficult?: Angst is my favourite thing to write, as well as fear. And I struggle with writing humour, I’m not a funny person to be honest

20. what is one thing you hope readers always take away from your works?: I always hope they like my writing and the plot, also the way I portray my characters. I want my readers to feel the writing, and the story in general. I just want my readers to truly enjoy what they read from me <3

21. what is the best and worst writing advice you’ve ever received?: I was told to always write very specifically and to fit my writing into a mould — don’t write ‘he’s’ but ‘he is’, or write shorter sentences, or stop describing so much. But in the end, there isn’t one way of writing — write the way you want.

22. which one of your works would you most want to see turned into a film/television show?: only one? ahhh this is hard! But I’d love to see those who from the Pit of Hell, roam to seek their prey on earth be turned into a movie. There are also a couple of wips that I could see on-screen but I’ll stick to that!

23. do you write scenes chronologically or out of order?: chronologically. Haven’t explored anachronies (analepsis/prolepsis) at all, but I might soon!

24. how do you handle criticism?: really well!! As long as they’re constructive and not mean, I love hearing what people think. Criticism is the best way for me, a person whose first person is not English, to improve!

25. what is the advice you would give to someone who is looking to start writing?: DO IT!! Honestly, don’t tell yourself, ‘I’m not good enough’. Just do it. Open a blank document and write your heart away, even if it’s not a story; just begin it. Explore your writing style, then maybe try to mould it into a plot. Writing is not limited to a certain category of people; it’s not just for those who can write. Writing is for everyone, and like most things, one must begin before improving (practice makes perfect!!) <3

26. what kind of feedback on your work always makes your day?: anything!!! Just the fact someone clicked on my story, read it, and took time to leave a comment — just that is enough to make my heart bursts with joy. I am so so grateful to every single person who’s ever read something from me.

27. which fic ‘verse of your own would you most like to exist in? which fic’s characters would you most like to befriend?: The verse I’m talking about is still a wip, but the siren/mermaid one that I’m currently building! I’d love to live in it.

28. what do you always enjoy getting asks about/wish people would ask about more?: Anything, really, my inbox is open to anyone and for everything! I love discussing books, movies and poetry as well as quotes, and maybe I wish people would come forth to ask me more about my fics or my wips, if they have any inquiries! Or I’d love to write drabbles!

29. what has writing added to your life? how has it changed you?: It has made my life so, so much better. Writing has stitched up a gaping hole in my chest. It’s permitted me to improve in English, has made me more confident and has allowed my creativity to flow. I just... I love writing so much. It has also allowed me to meet some incredible people on tumblr, which I’m very grateful for!!

30. why do you write?: for many reasons; to spice up my life, to help me develop my creativity, and because I love it. I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

boost yourself + tags!

1a. share the last sentence you wrote:

The words echo around his head and collide with his temples like truncheon blows.

2a. describe the wip you’re most excited about:

I’m excited for all of them, but I’ll go with my third BLFF fic. It’s very angsty, post-war, ABO, exes to lovers. It tackles heavy topics, it’s such an emotional fic. I’m so so excited for her (she comes out in January).

3a. share the piece of dialogue from one of your works you’re most proud of:

This is hard. But I’ll go with one from in a sea of mist cause the way Louis answers Harry... I love it:

“I feel like you want to kill me,” he pants out, using his right arm to hold himself up while his other hand comes up to rub at his burning cheek and nose, where Louis had hit him with the sole of his shoe.

“Before our date? No, never,” Louis blinks sweetly, chuckling and climbing up as Harry smiles to himself.

4a. share the best first and last lines from your work(s): I will do only those that are already published:

best first lines are from the hope that warbles in my fluttering breast: There, against the window, was stuck millions of snowflakes, their see-through quality no more as they huddled together, pushed against hard surfaces by the merciless wind.

best last lines are from in a sea of mist: It takes a while for Harry to go to sleep, elation pumping through his veins so fast that the previous tiredness he felt has flown out of the window. But when he finally focuses on Louis’ heavened out breathing, and when he breathes in Louis’ natural perfume that always acts as an ambrosia over him, he manages to close his eyes, and for the first time in a while, he dreams of a future that’s devoid of any darkness.

5a. link the last fic you read: currently reading sweet like honey by @falsegoodnight and Spoonful of Sugar by @zanniscaramouche and they’re absolutely amazing!

6a. link the last work you published: in a sea of mist

7a. link to your ao3 (if applicable): tomlinvelvet

8a. someone that inspires you: Louis <3 his music and just his personality overall leaves so much scope for the imagination. There are also so many writers (both non-fanfic writers and fanfic writers) that inspire me daily.

9a. a comfort fic/work that you’ve been grateful for this year: even the best laid plans and just a flicker in the dark both by @falsegoodnight as well as eyes off you by @soldouthaz ... these fics are just so amazing, everything about them is top tier

10a. other writers that you’d like to tag! @falsegoodnight @scrunchyharry @hadestyles @mercurial-madhouse @youreyesonlarry @raspberryoatss @jacaranda-bloom @soldouthaz @behisoneandonly @vintageumbroshirt @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @lougendarey @quelquesetoiles <3 no pressure ofc!

#tagged #interaction

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