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bullymagnet · 7 years

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DAY SEVEN: Hallways

WELL... i’m a little late on this one. but whatever!

FINAL DAY! EXCEPT NOT REALLY! a story about a world where soulmates are connected through their dreams by hallways. soulmates can pass through these hallways, but to their mates, they’ll always appear invisible in this dreaming world unless they’ve met once in the waking world. max and johnny are in this one.

This idiot’s found a hallway into your dreams again.

That’s the only commentary your mind makes as a mid-sized sedan goes floating lazily past your head, slow enough for you to pick out the graffiti written on its side: “EAT QUARTERS DAILY.”

… You’re sure that said something meaningful at one point, like “EAT A BUTT,” or “xxx-xxxx CALL ME,” but you’ve “known” them for years and your… friend doesn’t seem to get that writing in dreams changes like the wind and you’ve almost never been able to read one of their messages as they intended.

Over what sounds like an intercom across the city streets you’ve found yourself in, a bootleg MIDI rendition of Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up begins to play.

… Then again. That’s probably not very important to them.

“Son of a mother,” you whisper, rubbing your temples in attempt not to completely lose it. “You have rick rolled me for the last time.”

Kicking and punching your way through a spontaneously manifested pile of packing-peanut filled boxes blocking the sidewalk, you take a moment to give a scoff of fatigued laughter about your situation.

Hallways into each other’s dreams, they all say.

If you have a soulmate, then you’ll have these hallways. The appear through doors, windows, mirrors, swimming pools, Looney Tunes-esque holes- just about any classical or non-classical means of going through could potentially lead to a hallway into the sleeping mind of your soulmate.

Even though there’s a hallway in every dream you have, they can be hard to find, so it’s pretty rare that you bother seeking them out and slipping in to visit your soulmate. Not nearly as often as they come through your side.

You’ve never seen or heard them- that’s just how the connection works. If you meet them in the real world at least once, you’ll be able to. But if that doesn’t happen, the only dream traces of your soulmate when they come through the hallway are the colored footprints they leave…

And the stupid things they do.

You bust through into an unpopulated storefront after being up to your ankles in ball-pit balls outside. It’s dim inside and mostly empty, but this is the place you’ve decided houses the controls for the intercom system. You briskly walk across the music-room-esque carpet and hop the counter to the computer, shutting off the grating music echoing through the streets as quickly as possible.

Now… Well, they can’t hear your voice, so yelling over the intercom would do nothing. Sighing, you just type out a message for them on the keyboard. It follows:

HEY IDIOT. WHY DON’T YOU MAKE LIKE A TREE AND FIND THE NEAREST DOOR, GET YOUR BUTT BACK THROUGH THAT HALLWAY AND GET OUT OF MY DREAMS. I’M IN A NEW TOWN, TOMORROW IS MY FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, AND I HAVE A LOT ON MY PLATE AS IT IS. HUGS AND KISSES, YOUR SOULMATE. PS STOP RICK ROLLING ME AND FIND A NEW MEME.

You press enter, and you can hear the echoing voice of Microsoft Sam reading your message back to you out in the streets.

You cross your arms and lean back. But the moment you relax, you hear a door swing open behind you. You turn to face it, and see a quick-fading trail of red footprints come through. The prankster themself.

They stop for a moment, probably disoriented by the storefront you made up about three seconds ago, and probably by you. They take a step toward you, pause, and then a CD case materializes in front of where you imagine their face would be. It clatters to the floor, and they dash, leaving a hand print on the front desk as they book it toward the front doors.

The doors swing open, and then close, and about five seconds later, a massive pile of snow comes down from the heavens, effectively snowing you in.

God you hate them.

You begrudgingly note, with a strange feeling in your heart, that you know you won’t, eventually, because that’s… also how this works. But for now. Yes.

You turn around, shaking your head, and go to check out the CD case they left for you. You can’t make it out in the dark, so you scoop it up and squint down on it.

On it is a terribly drawn spiky-haired smiling character that you sometimes see them draw, and an incomprehensible jumble of words that now says, “∞ SONGS?!???? ASTLEY.? beeb” and must have at one point said something along the lines of, “RICK ASTLEY’S GREATEST HIT, BUT A LOT” because all else that’s on the CD case is a photo of Astley himself, winking sagely up at you.

You wearily look up, studying the wall.

You Cannot Imagine What Is On This CD.

Your next morning is terrible.

Apart from landing on a jerk’s face on your way to your first day of school, you woke up super late, you fell down the stairs a little, and you’re pretty sure all you managed to grab for breakfast was a can of soup and a bag of Pomegranate Thangs.

But hey let’s get back to that landing on a jerk’s face thing right that part sounds interesting.

The aforementioned jerk stands in front of you on the cracked sidewalk, miraculously alive and with a face covered in what you would assume was a tire track if you didn’t know it was the distinct imprint of your very own scooter, having indented his face not a minute ago. … Listen, you were texting while scooting, there’s a lot of ledges in this town… it’s actually a lot easier to accomplish than you’d think. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Well, you’re not, you feel pretty alright, but—

“Okay kid,” the strange boy begins. “Listen up.” And you mutter under your breath that your name isn’t kid, it’s Max, but he doesn’t seem like the listening type.

“You just landed on a very important face. Johnny’s face,” he goes on, and your brain takes special note of his name like it’s marking it off a grocery list. “My face.”

He just keeps right on talking after that, but you kind of zone out to take him in. You’re probably not missing much. You’re pretty sure he fits right into the Bully character archetype.

His hair is red. Bright red, and you’d say that it seemed kind of familiar, but you’re not psychic apart from the fact that your subconscious mind is forever linked to another human being’s. Your gay little brain says he’s handsome and you figure that’s true but would be more true if he wasn’t being so immediately intolerable in this moment. But it’s not that he’s drop-dead gorgeous or that he’s the most interesting man in the world, it’s something that you don’t quite knowingly notice but the narrative does. That you’re experiencing a kind of déjà vu that isn’t dizzying or vexing like it typically should be.

That the moment you saw Johnny, you felt something unlock in your subconscious.

… You think he just said he’s going to beat you up if you don’t give him 50 cents.

It’s a strange two days that follows. You don’t get to sleep in the night that connects them.

This school, this town- it’s like their culture, their social nuance, their infrastructure is just a few pixels askew from the lineart layer of reality. And in your first two round days here, you feel yourself sinking into the swamp of madness that is Mayview.

Just about everyone you meet fits right into that madness, even the few “friends” that you make. But none of them seem to take quite as much utter glee out of being an agent of chaos as that Johnny.

He does end up beating you up. Well, after an entire day of running away from him, you rise to his challenge… and then quickly un-rise. He beats you into the ground, essentially. That Bully archetype came with some pretty brute strength.

He does give you a “life lesson” afterward, though.

“Why take the maze,” he energetically asks, with shining eyes, as you wonder how many bruises you’ll be left with. “When you can bust on through the walls?”

And it’s that lesson, his praise of your deciding to roll up your sleeves and accept his challenge to get beat up by him, and the special language of game-breaking logic that he seems to write and live by… that all seem intimately familiar to you. You’re not sure why.

You think that’s probably because you’re already resigning yourself to a very long and very tiring fight-avoiding school year.

He also breaks your scooter.

The bulk of your second day goes off with about the level of interesting content you would expect in and that would likely be discussed at length had this story been a different medium and genre and universe.

Though extracurriculars don’t hold you up until twilight like they did the first day, and housekeeping doesn’t hold you up indefinitely like the first night, you’re a pretty popular dude, and it’s not until about 3 AM that you manage to get the opportunity to sleep.

But once you do, you’re out like a light.

The vineyard you find yourself on is surrounded on all sides by thick, coniferous forest that seems to go on forever, but you can still taste the salt water in the air, and you can hear the waves and the seagulls of a beach that doesn’t seem to exist. You’re quick to realize it’s a dream.

You get to your feet and brush the sand off your clothes, ducking under a low-hanging grape vine. You can see a beach house up ahead, and without much else to do but wander the acre of grape trellises sticking up out of the sand, you head toward it.

The front door is unlocked when you reach the porch, so you walk into the house. Inside, the lights are off but it’s illuminated just fine by the daylight streaming in.

You meander through the nautical-themed building. Nobody’s home. It’s not typical for you to be swarmed with dream characters in lucid dreams anyways. For now, you see what kind of interesting stuff is around here.

After several rooms of treasure chests and seashell-covered guest beds alike, you walk by a rose-colored open door with a gaping wardrobe in the room inside. The wardrobe wouldn’t be so remarkable, though, without the homage that lies inside its open maw. There’s a hallway in there that breaks the laws of space. Your soulmate’s hallway. And so obvious, too.

You cautiously walk into the room. Apart from the wardrobe and a screen door leading out onto the beach house’s back deck, it seems to be pretty empty. You approach the hallway wardrobe and peer inside. The wood floor is waxed and the tacky wallpaper is the same the whole way to the end. And there, down about twenty or thirty feet, is the open door of your soulmate’s mind. Green sky and yellow clouds.

You can’t help but smile a bit and snort. Oh boy. They’ve been through here. Prepare for trouble.

Turning around, you breathe to nobody in particular, “Guess I have…”

You trail off. Turns out you failed a perception check and the room isn’t quite as empty as you thought it was. In the other half of the room, standing awkwardly in the middle of the dusty floor holding a boombox, is Johnny.

“… Guests,” you lamely finish.

He’s dressed in boxers and a Superman shirt, and he’s staring unblinkingly at you. He drops the boombox in his arms and it fizzles out of existence. He is very still.

“Oh, great,” you mutter, bemused. Make it double. “Like I needed a Johnny on top of this.”

He furrows his brows and breathes something, a one word question that you can’t make out from across the room. Wow, you’ve never seen the real him think this hard. The way he looks at you… it’s strange.

Whatever. Dream characters are always weird. Johnny is extra weird.

Deciding to clear the area before things kick off, you make a casual beeline for the screen door and the deck beyond it. From the corner of your eye, the dream Johnny tenses up the moment you begin taking steps again.

“H-Hey. Hey!” You glance back. He steps toward you hesitantly. His eyes are locked on you and the ground behind you like homing missiles or something. “Max… Who’s dreamin’ about you?!”

“No one’s dreaming about me,” you sigh, almost automatically. “I’m dreaming.”

And you keep walking.

And you stop walking.

That question. That’s a really specific question. You pause in front of the door for a moment, just thinking, before looking over at him. He’s still gaping at you. His eyes are as wide as saucers and intense. You turn to face him fully, and squint.

There on the floor, where he’d just taken a few steps toward you, are several fading red footprints.

Nope. No way.

Your thoughts are racing, but your words come out almost calm, however firm. “Johnny… are you a dream character?”

His eye twitches. He sort of absentmindedly grabs the sides of his boxers in his fists. “Wh-what’s that mean?”

You inhale and exhale.

“Johnny,” you begin again, very slowly and very carefully. You take a few steps toward him. “Where did you come from.”

Bit by bit, like his body is lagging behind his mind, he raises his arm and gestures over your shoulder with his finger, pointing toward the rose-motif wardrobe and the plain, stretching hallway within.

And he says, confused and mystified like he’s unraveling a riddle and as his wide eyes seem to take the whole of you in like this, right here, is the first time he’s actually seeing you, “The hallway.”

The hallway.

Johnny, the boy you met by nearly concussing with a metal scooter. Johnny, who chased you three blocks down Mayview trying to beat the snot out of you, one as a member of a human totem pole. Who later beat the snot out of you (not as a member of a human totem pole). Who not only gave you change for the money he extorted and advice after he beat the snot out of you, but advice that you employed. Who is vexingly somehow the most irritating being you think you’ve met to date, but whose powers of frustration never stopped you from considering him handsome. Johnny, the energetic boy with the loud gang and the loud red hair and the fictionally golden eyes and the devious smile who may as well be the human equivalent of a far-too-hyper inferno.

Johnny came through the hallway.

Johnny’s your soulmate.

You’ve gotta be kidding you.

#my fics #bullymagnet #SORRY I'M LATE #I BOTH HAD WRITER'S BLOCK AND ALSO FELL ASLEEP AT MY DESK LAST NIGHT #I REALLY WANTED TO BE ON TIME...#anyway this isn't my WITTIEST writing ever #it's sort of a little... ''people sitting in chairs'' if you know what i mean #but hey all these fics have sort of been first drafts without editing #next time i'll be way more prepared!#fics

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lilolilyr · 3 years

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Tagged by @ongreenergrasses, thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Way over 300! Tho it feels like it's been at 300sth so long by now, it'll be weird to look at once it hits 400 :D

Btw, funny how this tag meme asks for so much stuff that can be looked up by just... looking at my Ao3... without asking for any commentary by me? Lol

Anyhow, rest under the readmore bc this is 20 questions and Long!

Personal post - do not reblog

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

995596 - just a few more ficlets or 1 longer fic, and I've got a Million! Hey, maybe I should try to write one with... 4404? (I'd need to ask a calculator xD) words exactly... not rly a hardship with how many drabble exercises (exact wordcounts, 100 is the most used, I also do 200, 500, longest was 10000 exactly lol) I've already done... we'll see!

Over 400k for this year alone, and over half of that is my actual writing (not translations etc), I'm so proud! Last year I only barely hit 200k and that included a lot of translating work

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Again, one could look this up in my works filtered - sorted by kudos? But all three of my incubus!jaskier witcher series are in it, part 2 of the series is highest with 1091 kudos, then a Venom halloween oneshot, and 'Belonging', a fluffy snake-crowley piece from my ineffable spouses series (yes, sth with under 1k words - 666 to be exact - is in the top 5... my poor longfics lol)

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

...I try to? But atm I have 202 unanswered (and I always click 'mark read' on replies so these are all comments on my own fic) even tho I told myself I'd not let it get past 200, and now I'm doing a tag meme instead of replying to anything so ummmm

Edit: 203 unread now

But I do love love love all the comments I get! And while atm it's still semi-manageable, if it ever gets to the point where I really can't manage to reply to everyone cause it's too much, i'd rly take that as a compliment lol :D I'd still try to reply to the longer and/or more thought through comments tho :)

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

*thinks* I have an MCD fic? But not only is that very much a case of ~posting a draft version that's barely in complete sentences insgead of taking the time to turn it into a real longfic~, I also just killed off the mlm couple I only semi care about and left the wlw couple with a happy/hopeful (rly don't remember) ending, so... hm idk whether that counts for angsty ending

Apart from that... I dunno, I just prefer my babies to be happy and fluffy? *.* i remember a mirror milippa in the mirrorverse one where in the end Michael is worried about lying to Philippa about her identity... there are some angsty TOG and Gomens ones but I think they end happy-ish (my memory is. Bad. but looking through my 'angst' tag I just saw a lot of h/c and 'angst with a happy ending')

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

They're all happy???!?

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Ahahahahahhahahaahaha

Check this out

I need you to know that all the works in that collection take part in the same universe (or rather, multiverse), and are alltogether just scratching the surface of my gigantic headcanon multiverse that I've been building in my mind since I was like 10

Actual crossovers other than that I don't remember writing

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yeh but I only remember clicking 'delete comment', as it should be

Recently I've just gotten a bunch of 'you Need to continue this' and 'omg why isn't there more' or 'this shouldn't end' type comments, not hate, probably not meant maliciously, but So Annoying (maybe espesh bc I don't want to just hit delete on these, but I also don't want to pretend it's fine, but I also don't have the energy for a fight, and trying to explain why that behaviour is entitled and annoying and that I write what I want to write and nice comments should praise what I actually have written, and hoping that they understand and don't get mad is... hard.)

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Check out my rated E and rated M in my works

Mostly femslash lately, but I did also write other smut in the past

Most is a bit dominant/submissive play, but I do also like good fluffy smut with feelings! Best in combo, really :D

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not in the sense of pretending someone else wrote it (that i know of), but posted to other sites without my permission - writing 'don't repost to other sites' etc did Not help, they even copied those tags lol, so I just let it be, choosing my battles wisely etcetc, I'd prefer for my fic not to be cross-posted by others bc then I can't edit or otherwise influence the fic anymore and don't see everyone's reactions to it, but as long as it's not someone pretending they wrote it, I only semi care, not enough to fight it tbh

PSA: I Only post fics to Ao3 (and WIPs/prompt fills to tumblr&discord at times), if you see them somewhere else that's Not Me and you'd do me a favour by checking them out on ao3 and kudosing&commenting there instead :)

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yup, one to Russian a while back, a floreleine (Gunpowder Milkshake) one to Korean just today actually, and I translated a bunch to German myself

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I made a TOG fic together with @cinnamonplums, well mostly I wrote and she made the art :D

Trying to remember whether I ever actually co-wrote anything... don't think so?

13. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Don't make me choose!!!

Atm Milippa is OTP bc I'm busy writing them for @discoveryfemslashfortnight (this is not a post to reblog for the fortnight), but I'm also still rly into Floreleine, Bering&Wells and Andromaquynh and Andronilynh, and I read a lot of Mirandy lately

All-time favs I'm not rly active in atm but will always be dear to me are the ineffable spouses, clintcoulson, heistwives, gosh so many more I'll stop here tho xD

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

A Heistwives Kinda Job immediately comes to mind

I also rly want to finish at least one cohesive original-ish storyline for the lverse that I already linked for the crossover question above, but I just have so much backstory (it's been over 10 years!!!) and it's... hard...

And everything else that's still WIP and untouched for more than a few months will probably have the same fate lol

Also have a few that haven't even seen the light of day at all, most recent a Mirandy ~what if Andy had been pregnant when Miranda hired her and how would it change the entire storyline~ bit - I wrote it in bulletpoints in one go as quickly as I could, I know I had the finished product in my mind, I don't remember anything now and don't feel like going through the bulletpoints painstakenly filling in the blanks

15. What are your writing strengths?

Writing one-shots quickly in one go

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Forgetting everything about a fic if I leave it in a draft for a second too long

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

There are many ways to go about it, and I think they all work (depending on the fic and the length and relevance of the dialogue)

I tend to leave single sentences as is, and for longer and important sequences use cursive and 'they said in xylanguage'.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Hobbit apparently? I remember thinking that fic was so long lol, it's 3k

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Kat/Ana from Reef Break, they have Such Shippable Chemistry, and it would totally fit Kat's player personality to bang both siblings (she's canonically friends with benefits with Ana's half-brother)... but the ship has one (1!) fic on Ao3 *cries*

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

TOG Andromaquynh longfic In Your Stead has had the title since last year and probably for a while to come! I loved the story idea so much I really worked with several drafts and only! worked on that fic until it was finished so I wouldn't get distracted & forget about it, and the result was wonderful.

Tagging, if you want to do it, @sarah-fiers @purlturtle @cookie-sheet-toboggan @ussjellyfish @onaperduamedee @startrekgeorgiouery @rosalie-starfall @lonely-night @banashee @xvnot15 and everyone else who sees this

Questions to copy:

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? 5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? 6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? 7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? 8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? 9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? 10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 11. Have you ever had a fic translated? 12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 13. What’s your all time favorite ship? 14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? 15. What are your writing strengths? 16. What are your writing weaknesses? 17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? 18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? 19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? 20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

#tagging meme #tagged #mine #ongreenergrasses #ao3 tag #ao3 link #lilolilyrae #sept'21 #personal #Personal 2021 #28.09.21

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anakinthetrashking · 4 years

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BnHA One-Shot Fic Recs (pt1)

Making some fic-rec posts has been on my to-do list for a while and I’m finally doing it, yay! Currently I have 6 word doc pages full of just BnHA recs. So I’m splitting them up by length and completion, so first up is (part one of) one-shots! Let’s go!!!

Lets start with some classic Izuku and DadMight!

Pictures, Posters and Tender Beauty by ProPinkist (tumblr: @dazais-guardian-angel ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~4,400 words Summary: Izuku has virtually every All Might-themed item out there, and prides himself on all of it, as Toshinori is well aware. However, somehow, the boy still decided that there was something vital missing. This is fluffy and very cute. No one truly appreciates All Might as much as Izuku does, but 1A comes close. All Might deserves all the love, and this fic truly provides!!!

Dear Mr. All Might by QuizzicalCrow (tumblr: @quizzicalcrow ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~5,000 words Summary: As the #1 hero for decades, All Might has collected a lot of fan mail over the years. Toshinori tracks down a series of letters that only now, years later, does he appreciate for their significance. I always love the thought of All Might looking through his fan mail, even if he can’t get to all of it. This was a wonderful glimpse into that AND it was made to be so, so personal and sweet. Go have some heart-healing fluff.

Growing Pains by LordofLies (tumblr: @theangelofchildren ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~5,900 words Summary: Izuku finds himself changed by his encounter with the Hero Killer, but changes of a more physical kind are in store for him as he begins to truly accept One for All as his own. Once, he would have been thrilled to look more like All Might, but now those connections are as much a source of anxiety as they are of pride.Or, Izuku wakes up one morning and sees the world through different eyes. Izuku having anxiety and Toshi being there to help him through it and calm him down? Sign me UP. Its also a pretty cool take on how One for All is able to change things about it’s holder. Could this happen in cannon? Who knows.... Regardless, it was a great read!

I’ll Carry You Home by Renesvetta Rating: G Category: Gen ~2,700 words Summary: While training with All Might, it wasn’t uncommon for Izuku to be so exhausted at the end of the day that he unwittingly fell asleep without regard for where he was. It consequently became part of All Might’s routine to help his young protégé home. During that time, Izuku may have let loose more than one sleepy confession towards his mentor. Yes, it is as adorable as it sounds. Its tagged with “self indulgent Dad Might fluff” which is both accurate and appreciated. In other words: Superb you funky little writer!

Simple Gifts by QuizzicalCrow Rating: G Category: Gen ~6,700 words Summary: One year ago, Izuku received the greatest gift he could ever imagine. Now he’s determined to return the favor for the one responsible for it all with a gift of his own. First off, I love the idea of Izuku and Toshi quietly celebrating the anniversary of passing on OfA from All Might to Izuku. Even just taking the day to hang out with each other. It’s a really precious idea. But there’s not just fluff! Izuku finds himself in a fight, again. (cool villain quirk, too!) I love all of the small details that are in this fic (and in Crow’s other works, too!) anyway its exciting AND very heartwarming, so go read it!!!

Affectionate by Sevi007 (tumblr: @sevi007 ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~2,600 words Summary: Toshinori starts to show affection very easily around his students. The reactions he gets for that are not quite the ones he had anticipated - well, not all of them, at least. Toshi is LOVED, APPRECIATED, and 1A feels like HOME. how many times can i say “cute” and “heartwarming” on this post?? bc these are some amazing writers, whom I adore, and their writing makes my heart WARM. AND. FUZZY. i mean, even just the first few paragraphs of this one just, really sets the scene of what i like to believe the 1A dorm is (on a good day, lol). its a really nice read, so go treat yo’ self by reading it.

paint me in trust by dinomight Rating: G Category: Gen ~6,400 words Summary: The first mark Izuku gets is a slight brush of green across his temple. It’s the soft touch of a mother holding her son for the first time. Inko has one to match, the same shade of green staining the tips of her fingers. Hers is more noticeable; Izuku’s tends to blend into his hairline. He loves it anyways. He has to. It’s the only soulmate mark he has. (Or: how Izuku goes from just green to a rainbow, UA-style.) Ok, so this fic sort of plays off the idea of soulmates, and does not fit in with soulmates in the usual form of the trope. First off its completely platonic. Its categorized as Gen and sticks to that. Also it doesn’t seem to be as obligatory and permanent as you would think it would be. It seems to be more of the universe telling you who has the possibility of being important in your life. I really really loved this, it was so adorable and gives you that sweet, sweet Izuku angst, before healing your heart with the power of friendship and found family!!!

The Die Has Been Cast by ChiwiTheKiwi (tumblr: @chiwithekiwi ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~5,400 words Summary: “There’s something about that kid you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?”When no answer meets him, Shouta tries again.“You know something about Midoriya’s quirk that you haven’t shared with me. Is that right?”(Or: A canon "What If" surrounding the latest manga events and focusing on Aizawa finally making a connection.) First off, this fic has spoilers for the manga, so dont read unless you’re past chp212! I loooooooove OfA reveal fics, especially when it’s Aizawa that finds out. He deserves to know!!! its kind of important!!!! This fic chooses a great moment to work off of, and does a great job with Aizawa’s character. I really enjoyed it and couldn’t keep myself from going back and reading it just now LOL

These last two are actually two-shots, but it makes it an even 10! also Izuku and dadmight, so we can continue the theme here...

Some Unspoken Thing by LittleKy Rating: G Category: Gen ~7,900 words (2chps) Green, Toshinori has always thought, is the color of life anew.(Or: It's time for Yagi Toshinori to finally accept that he has a son, now, in all but blood. It's time for Midoriya Hisashi to accept that as well.) YES ALL MIGHT! ADMIT THAT IZUKU IS YOUR SON! great portrayal of the characters and really hits the nail on the head for DadMight. and Izuku in this story is just the smallest green floof that you wish to give a hug. NEVER MIND ALL MIGHT, YOU TOOK TOO LONG SO IZUKU IS MY SON NOW AND IM NOT GIVING HIM BACK ( no but seriously i want to hug this fic its so cute TTuTT )

LAST BUT NOT LEAST! I See You by BirdAntlers (tumblr: @aarymk )

Rating: G Category: Gen ~15,400 words (2chps) Midoriya Izuku is a quirkless child, blind from birth. Yagi Toshinori is the most powerful man in the world, loved by millions. They could not be more different, and yet their loneliness is the same. (From a pair of AU posts on Tumblr that got way out of hand; I wanted to put it here because it turned into more of a fic than a "what-if." Basically a vessel for me to vomit as much Dadmight as I can.) Hey, you! Yeah! You! Do you want to cry? Do you want to start sobbing in a public space?? Do you just want to be destroyed with words and be left there kneeling at the feet of a writer who has torn out your heart and stomped on it before they gently wipe the tears from your face? Yeah?? y oU Wan NA D IE??? READ THIS AND GET REKT. you’ll thank me later

(under the cut is just me rambling, i kept all the important stuff up here, ur welcome)

Now that the actual recs are over I can rant here- look i really tried to slim my recs down, but i have almost 300 bnha fics bookmarked,some of them are “to read” or theyre in progress, etc but i managed to get this list sorta slimmed down? a little?(to only 58!!!) but as i was gathering this post together it felt like i dont have very many Dadmight recs on that list??? but i havent rechecked all the other fics i was just going through the oneshots. i... kinda read a lot more fics with AIzawa in it instead. it be that way. DadMight content is SO GOOD. but my fav is aizawa im sorryyyyy anyway i have another SEVENteeN oneshots to put in rec posts and that does NOT include the mulitchapter and friikin series and stuff... and like i said this is aaaaaaallllllllllllllll BnHA. batfam fic posts will come after, and then star wars, and then maybe star trek? we’ll see. i have a very specific taste in ST fics and that is Tarsus IV whump. which. i have not read in a while. when they say “that trope came from ST” for sooooooo many tropes, you WISH other fandoms had tarsus as a trope, holy crap it is TOP TIER angst fodder. if you love to write/read whump, angst, and h/c i would HIGHLY recommend that you take a bit of time and explore the content and stories there. heck maybe i will make a ficrec post for just tarsus angst. ok.

my INTENTION is to edit these posts later with little links to the other fic rec lists so that itll be easier to find. but., its me, so itll either happen in painful detail or not at all

asdjkdgh its 2:30am and i need to sleep and not be rambling incoherently again I WILL SAVE THIS AS A DRAFT.

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bearfully · 2 years

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1 and 4 for the writing asks? ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Combining this answer with @sezja's because you both sent in question 4.

1. What writing projects are you currently working on?

The only thing I'm actively working on at the moment is the schmoopy middle-aged Sanson/Guydelot fic I've been thinking about for ages. It's so specifically catered to me, sprinkled with all sorts of personal headcanons and favourite tropes, that I don't know if it will be palatable to anyone but me, but hey, writing is writing, audience or not.

4. What is something you'd like to explore or challenge yourself to when writing?

On a surface level, I've always written from the same character's POV (Guydelot), and I've been meaning to write something from another perspective for some time now. I'd also like to write for other pairings or series', but for now I only have the brainpower to focus on one.

Something I actively struggle with when writing is metaphors and symbolic imagery. That sort of stuff doesn't come easily to me, and I really have to force myself to think of comparisons. I don't know if that's strictly necessary, but I worry that my writing it too literal and dry without it. It's good practice, anyhow.

In a broader sense, I really want to learn to write faster, more coherently, and with less edits. I write at an incredibly slow pace, all out of order, and basically throw key phrases or ideas onto the page with no context or description, only to go back later and refine them into proper sentences and paragraphs. It's not very conducive to writing long-term, and probably uses up more brainpower trying to remember how each thought connects to one another. I'd like to be more comfortable writing a first draft without having to edit it so many times.

#thank you cony!!#you're always so supportive of my writing even though you have no idea what I'm writing about and it warms my little heart #coconi #sezja

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wr0temyway0ut · 3 years

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7 17 20 22 24 28 37 for the 40 Questions Meme for Fic Writers!

Hey have i mentioned lately that i freaking love and miss you

This post got very long so answers below the cut!

(40 Questions Meme for Fic Writers)

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Tbh I’m proud of most of my work but recently I’m especially proud of this bit from Tiny Symphonies (warnings for implications of disordered eating and depression, mentions of blood and stitches):

Bobby wants to tell Luke that he knows exactly how he feels, that he’s been in his shoes before. That he knows how pointless it feels to take care of yourself when the people who were supposed to do that for you—who were supposed to love you unconditionally— just don’t anymore. That he’s not alone; that Bobby stopped eating and sleeping and showering too, obsessing over what he could have done better, what would have made him more worthy of love. But he’s never told anyone that, not even Alex, and no one’s ever asked. Bringing it up now would make this about him, and it’s not about him, it’s about Luke. There’s no point in treating a faded scar when there’s an open gash that still needs stitches.

Just because I��m a screenwriter by trade, so most of my writing is action and dialogue, and I was sort of worried that I’d lost my touch for internal monologue or really anything that can’t be seen or heard on screen, but I think I did really well with this introspective take on Bobby, if I do say so myself.

17. Do you write your story from start to finish or do you write the scenes out of order?

Start to finish! Mostly bc with fanfic I generally don’t outline or plan ahead so I’m just seeing where the writing takes me, but even with my academic/professional work I find it hard to skip around between scenes.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

For fanfic: on my phone in bed at midnight. For everything else, on my back porch on with my cat in my lap.

22. Choose a passage from one of your older fics and edit it into your current style.

Aha okay here’s a rewritten bit from my single Good Omens fic Lift Home? I wrote in 2019 (I refuse to go any older than that)

They sit in silence for a good deal of the ride, Aziraphale clutching his books as if doing so can control Crowley’s reckless careening through the city.

As they near the bookshop, Crowley slows down ever so slightly, not that the change would be perceptible to any being without their heightened senses. Still, Aziraphale relaxes the tiniest bit, and deems it safe to break the silence.

“That really was very kind of you.”

“I said don’t mention it.”

“Well, I won’t bring it up again, but I do want you to know…” He places a gentle hand over Crowley’s on the steering wheel. “That was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

A spike of panic shoots through Crowley’s chest. Without thinking, he wrenches the steering wheel to the right, pulling his hand away from the angel’s and sending the Bentley crashing around the corner. He slams on the brakes in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop, just barely missing a fire hydrant.

With as much indifference as he can muster, Crowley drawls, “Here you are.”

24. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

I don’t think I have, thought lately I’ve been seriously considering orphaning my old Hamilton fics. The only reason I haven’t done it yet is because the rare email notification that someone has commented on them makes me happy.

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

@martialwriter do you count? Is this for specifically fanfic? Idk if you write fanfic but I will say it was a freaking honor to read your early drafts of the Guardians and make films with you bc you’re such a great writer. Also @a-tomb-with-a-view was sort of the first jatp writer I read when I was getting into the fandom and they continue to write astonishing pieces. I owe my entire good dad!Caleb au to @siriuslyrose and her absolutely delightful fic Are You For Me or Against Me. And @satisfictiion my old buddy from the hamilton days who is now writing a jatp percy jackson au that’s so fun and intriguing and has me on the edge of my seat. I know it said only three but also @kybee1497 and @on-irratia deserve appreciation to

37. Talk About Your Current WIPs

Ooooh boy there’s so many. So I’ve got Heart of a Dancer and The Parent Trap which are already published and in progress (i’m working on the next chapter of Heart of a Dancer rn). Honestly I have so many WIPs rn it’s just easier to post screenshots of my list

The ones I’ve actually started are the Vagabond, Finally Free, and Teenagers Scare the Living Shit Out of Me, but I’m very excited to get to the other ones. (edit: I just realized Unconditional Love has no explanation lmao, it's about Alex finding out his parents have changed and being pissed about it, framed by the song "Unconditional Love" by Against Me!)

As a bonus, here’s all the titles I went through for Tiny Symphonies before I settled on one:

#thank you for the ask!#so many good questions #mutuals #ask games #my fic #jatp #it's not sunset cis either #julie molina

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isimp4hawkz · 3 years

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The Thief

(Hawks x Fem OC)

this is an old fic of mine, back when i first got into hawks (what have i become?) i never published it. please bear with my undeveloped writing :} and on behalf of my pre-obsessed self, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it.

-Edited slightly-

-Not 100% canon-

-Some aspects may seem far fetched-

Words: 2k

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Hawks’ POV

Recently, I've been cycling through a continuous loop of circumstances whereas every time that I'm about a millisecond away from saving someone in danger- the same, new, and hot pro hero swoops in right on the knick of time and steals my shot.

A spontaneous looker of a woman who went by the hero name Tundra. I hadn't ever heard of her before the little debut she had as of last week, as goes with most rookies. But this one was quick to gain her prominence in this city.

Do I honestly care all that much? Not really.

I think it's cool when a brand new hero who's fresh out of their side-kicking days steps up and climbs through the ranks, earning themselves a little popularity with the citizens as they answer their calls for help.

And to be frank, I've been taking it easy these days. More than I usually would. Out on the beaches during the day, and partying all throughout the night. Free time was scarce for me. I definitely won't put off having a good time while I still can.

Sure, if someone happens to be in danger on the way to the club, or down on the twisting roads that lead down to the shore, I swoop in and save the day.

The locals around here had basically memorized my name from years of service, but I was afraid that my name had become a blur in the mixture of countless other hero's.

Hell, maybe I'm just being dramatic. It's not like they could actually forget me of course. I'm the number 2 hero in all of Japan, how could you forget me?

You'd think that taking a short hiatus would gain me some sort of up in demand from the fans, but it was the exact opposite of that. I had fallen down to 4th in the approval ratings, instead of remaining proud in my little silver throne.

All because of her...and my own laziness.

And then, I decided that that was enough fun...to some extent...for now at least. It was time to head back into the city, and reclaim my throne—or, at least try to.

I settled onto the roof of my favorite building, it was the tallest one around here. If I wanted to catch a crime in progress, here would be the optimal place to start, where I had an eagle eye view of the city.

It’s funny, being up on this tower reminds me all too much of when I first met the vixen for myself.

An interesting encounter it was.

This is how it went;

I grunted when my wings had suddenly twitched with premonition midair. It was a natural reaction that occurred when something was about to happen, usually abruptly without much warning, a small shiver that pulsated through every single one of my feathers in the blink of an eye.

Instantaneously, two flashes of white sped past me in a blur of haste, followed by a gust of wind that physically made me wobble in my flight.

Ahead of me now flew someone. With a pair of wings as white as snow itself, feathers littered with black markings.

"Woah-" I uttered as I regained my balance, blinking in shock.

They were soon just a barely vivible spec in the distance.

'Huh...Well that's new. Can't remember the last time I saw another winged person besides...'

That person's name was long since lost in my memories. Last I heard, they'd transferred to another hero agency in distant city.

I'd only shrugged it off.

It was best to just continue my leisurely flight. I was in no rush, after all. I've waited this long to get back into the game, what's a few spare minutes of taking my time got on me?

The office building stood tall, barely piercing the sky. It's thin structure made it look like just the faintest breeze could make it topple.

A draft of wind blew viciously against me. It was much cooler up here, the air was naturally a bit thinner. Not that I wasn't used to it, but it had been well over a week since I'd gone here.

I exhaled peacefully as I took my perch on one of the building's edges, gazing down at the city. The sun was beginning to dip into the horizon, lighting the land with tranquil variants of orange and pink. People looked like mere ants from up here, scurrying aside toy vehicles.

The sunsets always looked so nice from here.

Most would see this as a time to be at home and prepare themselves for bed. But for a villain, it was happy hour. A time for iniquity to prosper in the shadows.

'Now then, let's see if we can find any-'

"Hey there." A voice had spoke from behind me, causing my feathers to stand on edge and bolt me into the air on instinct with one strong flap. I immediately whirled around, dumbfounded.

A woman stood before me. The pearly white pair of wings sprouting elegantly from her back and dotted with black markings taking me back to moments ago. They fluttered subtly as she studied me.

'That's strange...why didn't I sense her?'

She sported an inviting smile on her face, yet I could tell by the look in her eye that she was unsure of what to think of me. "Sorry for startling you. Come up here to wait for the stars?" She asks as she looks thoughtfully into the distant sky.

Her eyes shone a sharp grey that caught the sinking glow of the sun. The costume she wore wasn't exactly loose against her skin, ivory feathers imprinted into the fabric around her waist. Curves hugged in all the right places. Rather stunning.

'A hero?'

I must've been staring in a daze for too long, because she'd cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one leg to another in a little rocking motion.

I honestly didn't know what to think of her myself. I've never seen her before.

Mild curiosity somehow got the better of me in seconds. I'd've liked to get a bit of information off of her for my own self pleasure. A little flirtatious prodding would do the trick just fine.

"Now why would I waste my time lookin' up there when there's a much better view down here?"

She sucked in her cheek, never breaking eye contact with me as descended back down onto the platform so we were at the same level, hands dug deep in my pockets. Slapping on one of my signature lazy smirks, I continued, "So tell me, what's a beauty like yourself doin' all the way up here on this fine evening?"

My feathers had suddenly puffed up. It had startled me, but I managed to play it off with a small stretch.

That only happened whenever I wanted to give off a sense of superiority towards another individual, among other things.

She eyed my new display curiously. "Y'know, I could ask you the same—In fact I already did, actually—minus the little pick up line of course." She avoided the question, responding with a little quick-witted remark. It was hard to tell if she was hiding something, or if she's just being cautious.

"Well if you'd really like to know, I'm on duty. This is where I come to sort of survey everything."

She nodded, agreeing that that was a reasonable answer, and when I asked her about her own intentions, she responded with, "Oh, similar reasons. You're looking at a newbie trying to find her way in a foreign country, all while taking steps towards her dream of making something of herself.”

"New here huh? Excuse my manners, or lack of. Allow me to introduce myself. Wing Hero: Hawks." I gave her a curt bow, "Last time I checked, I'm still in the top 10 heroes in the country."

She gives me a strange look after taking my words into consideration. "Hawks..." The way my name rolled off her tongue as she sounded it aloud for herself made me swallow a lump. "In the top 10 you say? Never heard of ya—Granted, I've never really heard of anyone around these parts." She looked over into the horizon, rubbing her bicep. She seemed deliberately captivated by the colors settling onto the land.

'So she claims to be new to the country...'

I wouldn't doubt it too much. The honey color etched across her skin would definitely make others think twice about where she's from. There's also a small accent lingering at the back of her tone, I find it sexy.

Still, I'm rather curious about her, so I'll say something a bit more patronizing as an experiment, testing the waters or whatever. I bring my arms behind my head, looking over at the sunset. "Don't feel bad about being in the blind side. A newbie wouldn't know much about me in the first place unless they're some kind of huge fan, or even a stalker."

Then the look that burgeoned in her eye enthralled me. A corrosive flare. It spoke clear words. 'I don't like when people assume things about me.'

I almost bit my lip. 'That's hot.'

She sighed out nasally. "I can assure you, I'm neither one of those. Owl hero: Tundra." She barely spat that out as she crossed her arms, unintentionally making her breasts bulge in their bindings. "I've been on official duty in this city for over 72 hours now." She looked aside.

'Well that explains the wings.' Wouldn't a quirk like that be manifested from up North? But her skin and accent...She's a living cocktail.

And so I pressed on, chuckling. "I knew it. That cluelessness is bound to stem from lack of experience."

She raised an eyebrow as she met my eyes again. "Excuse me?"

The calmness in her voice was almost unsettling. It threw me for a loop. I genuinely can't think of any other female I've meet who could keep such a level-headed reaction up while being involuntarily insulted.

Those reactions were coaxing me to push her buttons. 'Let's see how far you'd go to remain in complete, professional control...'

"Don't take it personally, pigeon, it's just a fact." I was mostly betting on the bold assumption that she wouldn't take that nickname too kindly, and boy was I right.

"Pigeon?-" Her eyes flared along with a trembling fluff of her feathers. From the back of her throat came a short, rumbling sound resembling a hoot. Telling me I was crossing boundaries in a coherent avian language. Her pupils constricted, staring daggers straight through me.

'Hm. Definitely got bird of prey in her. Or maybe that's just her.'

I cooed mockingly in response, my wings unfurling widely to fan at her. Come at me.

The tension in the air weighed a ton as we stared each other down like natural enemies for a few lengthy seconds.

She seemed to have taken that as a challenge, but to my disappointment, she was quick to recompose herself, allowing her once erect feathers to relax against her back with a curt roll of her shoulders. Her eyes dilated back, though still a bit on the small side as she looked at me. I could feel it in every barb of my feathers, she was ready to tackle me a few moments ago.

It was sad to say that I found myself mildly disappointed. Mildly because to put it short, that reaction would've had my tail wagging if I were a dog. Well worth the effort it took to bring it to light.

She huffed out a breath. "You know what? I should probably be on my way. I'm wasting my time here. Good evening, Hawk man."

And with that, she calmly whirled around, unintentionally flashing me a great view of her juicy thighs and ass as she stormed off to the edge of the building, not forgetting to dramatically spread her wings.

Every step she took made those thighs shake. Holy fuck.

I had to will myself to not stop her. This urging curiosity to know more about this woman was certainly bubbling in its wake. Can't be the last time I'll see her. I don't think I'd allow it, actually.

She didn't look back as she jumped off the edge of the building, swooping down into the depths of the city.

I sighed, eyes promptly returning to study the calmness below. 'She's got a bit of a fire to her, doesn't she?'

"I'll stick a bit of a fire up your ass." A faint slur of mumbles drifted through the wind, making me blink confusedly as it reached my ears.

When I turned to look, there was no one.

#hawks #built different #keigo takami #my hero academia #bnha hawks #keigo #fanfic #keigo x oc #oc insert #fanfiction

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elizabethvaughns · 3 years

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so i've been mulling over this for quite a bit now, so i might as well articulate my thoughts and get them out onto this blog. so i was just thinking: subjectively or objectively, which one is better? the if/then dc preview or the broadway production? long post (1750+ words), so i'm putting a read more break <3

now, objectively at the very least, i know i have to say it's the broadway production. why wouldn't it be? it's a lot more polished, it's...the final draft, of sorts, of the production. we all know the final draft is usually better than the rough draft. but here's the thing. when it comes to an artwork that has several different versions, one tends to gravitate toward the version they saw first and have a certain bias against all the other versions. if you saw the bway version first or the dc version first, you probably like that one more. now i'm not saying this bias is conscious by any means. absolutely not. however, when one falls in love with some media, in my case at least, they take it in over and over and over again. and then they get so used to that one thing that all other versions seem weird. i can pinpoint two non-if/then instances in my life where such a thing happened.

in the summer of 2018, i watched the RENT movie on netflix. now i was fully intending to listen to the obc soundtrack before watching the movie, but i never really got to it. anyways, that movie was like love at first...watch to me. oh man, i loved it so, so much. so i downloaded the soundtrack on my phone and, you guessed it, listened to it over and over and over and over again. one fine day, (about a few weeks after, actually) i realized i never actually had listened to the obc soundtrack. so i did. and it sounded...odd to say the very least. i mean, some of the voices were different, sometimes the lines were changed, all in all, a confusing experience. to say the least, if you asked me back then which version i preferred, i would've readily said the movie version. but now, three years in retrospect, i'm not so sure. the obc version is a lot more...complete, i like the vocals more, and i'm now salty that "christmas bells" as a song was cut. evidently, i like the obc version more(but i still love the movie version hell it's still one of my comfort movies).

in the fall of 2019, i listened to falsettos. i actually listened to both the obc and the 2016 revival cast recordings. i guess that lessened the bias a bit because i was exposed to both versions at about the same time. on the fateful date of 2 october 2019, i watched the falsettos revival proshot. that's when i truly fell in love with this musical. but, even so, my initial exposure was to both recordings so even though i had a slight bias toward the 2016 version, i still loved both of them.

now, back to if/then. i actually find it difficult to pinpoint where exactly my exposure to if/then started. was it the very first time i heard about it in 2018 when i read a very meta RENT fanfic on ff.net where elizabeth made an appearance and i thought "what the fuck"(pun very much intended)"is if/then" (psst if you find the fic could you please drop the link in the replies meta fic isn't really my shit but i want to reread it for nostalgia's sake)? or was it the very first time i listened to the obc recording in 2020? or was it the boot of a broadway production that i first saw on 13 march 2021? whichever one i pick, they all lead to the same conclusion: i naturally gravitated(and sometimes still do) toward the broadway production because it was the first version of if/then that i was exposed to.

now sometime in early april 2021 over my spring break, i watched a recording of the dc production. i knew beforehand that this production is a preview, after which some changes had been made, resulting in the broadway show. since those changes were obviously made to better the production, it would be a logical conclusion that the very presence of those changes entailed a...worse production (not considering the fact that the interpretation and the very liking of art is entirely subjective). one could say i entered the watching experience with an unconscious bias, of sorts.

from the very first note, i was caught off-guard. i didn't know they changed this much. when i watched the bway production, i was just enjoying it for all it was worth. but when i was watching the dc preview, i was comparing it constantly to its broadway counterpart. oh, david's shirt colour is different here. oh, anne's wearing a pantsuit instead of a dress(cute). oh, time for hey kid! oh wait no they put "the moment explodes" right here. also, i was just humming along to the songs, just mouthing along the lyrics(because i have them all memorized), and every now and then and getting thrown way off-track when the tune remained the same but the lyrics changed. most notably, in "walking by a wedding" and "you learn to live without". all in all, i had what one could consider negative opinions about the dc production because of that bias.

but then i watched it second time. a third time. a fourth, fifth, sixth time. and over that time, i fell more and more in love with that production. as i've said before, the interpretation of art is wholly subjective–what one may consider a shortcoming of a particular piece, another may consider a strength. let me take the placement of "the moment explodes", for example. in the dc production, it's before "some other me". therefore, the line "every friend i ever knew or thought i did" doesn't hit as hard because we don't know her situation with lucas yet. even so, "some other me" hits twice as hard because lucas is an even bigger asshole now. in comparison, however, "the moment explodes" is after "some other me" in bway as you all know. so the aforementioned line holds a much greater significance when compared to its dc counterpart. however, one could also consider that line (in the dc production) as a sort of foreshadowing for the reveal in "some other me" of the new normal of beth and lucas's friendship (or the lack thereof).

obviously, some changes were most definitely welcome, "this day" to be more specific. of course, there was that little reprising of "what if?" near the end of "this day" in the dc production which i really loved, but all in all, the mood of "this day" was much more fun and enthusiastic in bway as opposed to dc, which in my opinion is an excellent way to start an act. in contrast, some changes were...not as welcome. i don't know about you, but personally, i really enjoyed two cut scenes from "the story of jane"("no more wasted time" dc version). first, the scene where kate brings her kindergarteners to beth. it was fun to see higgs squirm. second, the scene where elena and beth's interaction parallels beth and stephen's in "map of new york". narrative-wise, i think that it is an incredibly important scene as we get to see two sort of boss-employee relationships mirrored to each other, only beth does it well as a boss (if that makes any sense). we see beth as passionate but still sort of hesitant in mony but she grows to be more self-assured by nmwt, and i think the aforementioned scene only cements that notion as beth takes on the role of mentor for elena. also, "the story of jane" was a really fun song and, as much as i love "no more wasted time", i wish it still contained elements of "story of jane". and while i did enjoy the reshuffling of "the moment explodes" such that it became clear when beth and lucas made up in the bway production, they were ultimately still...not talking during "you learn to live without. as a result, we miss that one scene from the dc production where lucas and kate attend beth's awards ceremony and shoo stephen. and need i talk about the lucas/david duet verse("you get that we're connected, / i feel like you get me") in "ain't no man manhattan"? honestly, i feel like dc anmm was, all in all, better than bway anmm–especially that one verse where lucas sings to this other dude about how everyone is connected(no, not the one to stephen, the one after that. the one that ends with "[something something] / who you helped get elected").

also the situations with stephen and with kate/anne in both timelines were relatively clearer in the dc production. even so, the actual distinguishing of the timelines was better in the bway production.

in conclusion, the relative merit of each production(broadway vs. dc) is really up to the interpretation of each viewer. scenes that may seem weak to one may be considered narratively important to another. both productions have their own merits and flaws.

to me, both productions are equally good. my previous assertion/assumption that the final draft is always better than the first is not necessarily true. some things that you think were actually pretty good get lost in the editing process. some other things that should've been cut (ahem ahem, kate's referrals to lucas with "she", ahem ahem, liz's "i don't believe in independents like i don't believe in bisexuals. pick a side" line) get left in there. art is subjective. the editing process is subjective. in the end, though, the only thing that matters is that you enjoy what you're watching and find personal fulfillment in it. and i do! for both of these productions. for both of the productions, i'm smiling all the way up to "here i go". i'm slightly saddened during "you don't need to love me". i'm empowered by "the story of jane"/"no more wasted time". i'm grinning in liz-verse all the way up to "i hate you". i feel like sobbing during "some other me". my throat clogs up when "i hate you" starts. i'm actually sobbing by the time "you learn to live without" ends.

...you get the gist of it. all in all, both of these productions are phenomenal and i'm grateful for their existence and to have been able to watch them in the year of our lord 2021.

i love this show so much i swear.

i talk a bit more comparing broadway and dc here.

my other ramblings essays:

if/then appreciation

"what if?" vs. "what if?(reprise)"

character analysis of lucas

#if/then #broadway vs dc production comparison

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sandalaris · 4 years

Note

For the writer asks: 5, 10, 17, 22, 23, 30, 45, & 54!! :D

Finally getting around to answering these XD

5. Books or authors that influenced your style the most.

I read so much I feel like I can’t narrow it down. My favorite author is Ilona Andrews but they write almost exclusively in first person and have their fair share of action in their novels that I don’t think they’re that much of an influence on me. I’m trying to think of who I read that did the whole “people usually feel a mix of emotions over just one” thing that I know I’ve adopted, but I can’t think of who it is. (I can think of an author, who I do love the books of, who did the opposite and I found myself always confused about a character was supposed to be feeling/thinking and they probably influenced me to not do that, but I do like their books and that seems too much like I’m trying to be negative about them.)

10. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.

If I got to pick anyone, it’d be Marissa Meyer who wrote the Lunar Chronicles. It would be for one novel/novella, because I feel like the Lunar Chronicles has one more sort of side story in it and would want so badly for it to fit what the author has already written. If you haven’t read the series, it’s basically a retelling of various fairy tales just set in the future, like Cinderella has a metal prosthetic foot that keeps falling off and Rapunzel is a hacker living in a satellite orbiting earth. Everything is set up to perfectly fit a Beauty and the Beast side-story. Genetically altered super soldiers who are big and hairy and given animal aggression and had all their teeth surgically replaced with fangs for failing to pass a test as a child? Check! Now all we need is to write a story about the bookish daughter of a geneticist who gets blackmailed into staying with the “beast” and slowly learns that there’s a man inside of the monster and ends up figuring out how to reverse some of the alterations (because we already got the “I love him just as he is, fangs and all” thing from Scarlet and Wolf so we can have a little “curse breaking” this time around.) It can be set post-series, when some of the wolf-soldiers ran off and disappeared into various countries.

I once co-write a novel with my best friend about an evil warlock who fell in insta-love with a ditzy elf and spent the rest of the novel trying to avoid her so he could dodge his fate of retiring from villainy like his father and grandfather before him. He was determined to be the one villain in his family who actually went through with his evil master plan, dammit! It was a comedy, and kind of a spoof since we were at that age where romance novels were the thing to make fun of, but it still ended with him deciding he could do evil masterminding later and running off with the elf. What can I say, we were like twelve.

17. On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

Eek, the problem with averages is that any sort of outlier knocks everything else off, and I have a lot of outliers, lol. I go through writing spurts, sitting down and all but knocking out an entire chapter/one-shot in one sitting followed by days where I won’t even open a word document. And then there’s sort of my inbetween times where I’m usually typing away on something, but it’s more editing than actual writing, so maybe 100 or so new words might get written, but what I’ve previously written looks better by the end, lol. This has been the norm especially lately with school and work taking up the majority of my time. And then it hits me and I just need to let the story flow out of me? Between 2k-5k a sit down session.

22. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied and a project is ultimately done for you?

I don’t really do true drafts. I write, I edit, I post, and then I suddenly see all my typos. On the rare occasion editing doesn’t fix the issue, I might cut the scene into chunks and sort of look for the line(s) that don’t fit and start branching off from there (like maybe someone’s acting out of character *glares at current chapter* and I just needed to look at it in smaller incriments to see where they started to veer off). Only once have I ever just completely reworked the extremely extremely rough draft I had written, but that was an original work I did for Nano and so was more concern with getting words on a page than editing as I go.

I suppose editing could count as a second draft, so two? Maybe three? What is considered One Editing? If I leave off and come back, is it an all new edit/draft, or am I picking up where I left off?

23. Single or multi POV, and why?

Nine times out of ten I seem to veer towards single, although I’ve had some fun with multiple POVs before.

Not really sure why. Maybe I just find it easier to burrow into one person’s headspace and go from there? I know there are times when I want to jump to another character for one specific scene, but I always feel like I’m already committed to telling things from the one character’s POV. Or maybe I just like the limited narrator thing.

30. Favorite line you’ve ever written.

Err.. I don’t know that I have one. How about a line I rather like? This is from a kind of Amaru/Brasa fic (kinda sorta. He’s got that whole mix of love and hate and resentment and worship thing going on, and she has her own twisted attachment to him) set in those six months between seasons. These lines are from a moment where Kate surfaces and Brasa fantasizes about taking out some of his resentment of Amaru on Kate. (He never actually physically harms her, Amaru would never allow someone to mark her vessel simply because its hers, but he likes to imagine.)

He thinks about wide green eyes looking up at him with fear, filling with tears as she whimpers out a “Please.” Imagines pressing a hand to her shoulder, pressing down down down until she’s kneeling before him, trembling as he cups her jaw, forcing her head back. He wants to press his thumb to the plump swell of her bottom lip, dig his nail in until the blood, her soul, comes to the surface. Filling the flesh with color until it spill across her chin in a vibrant slash.

and to give you an idea of how Kate is handling Brasa’s attempts to take his issues out on her...

He can see the muscle at the hinge of her jaw tighten, hear the harsh edge of every exhale, as she turns to look up at him mere inches away.

“My name,” she clips, “is Kate.” She bites off the last, harsh sound, almost snapping her teeth at him.

45. Worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

I’m trying to think of actual feedback and not just like angry comments/reviews from people who didn’t like my fics (which tbh I haven’t gotten that much of because people aren’t generally that big of a dick to leave flames on fics these days.)

Someone tried to tell me that a character dropping the f-bomb was unnecessary and jarring and I should remove it from one of my fics. And hey, to each their own, but I personally felt it fit both the character (who cursed in canon) and the story and so kept it in. People certainly can write great literature without every putting down a single curse word, but there’s also great stories that wouldn’t be the same without a bit of foul language. What bugged me most about it was their insistence I should remove it.

Besides that the only other bad feedback I’ve gotten (besides obvious flames and people not liking the direction I’m going/have gone with a story), was someone who said that my clearly labeled unhealthy relationship fic was romanticizing abuse and they didn’t appreciate the one character manipulating the other character like that. They were actually fairly nice about it (if a bit of an anti about the whole thing), I just remember being a little bugged at the time because I had already tagged it as unhealthy/manipulative.

54. Any writing advice you want to share?

Don’t be afraid to experiment! And in that same vein, try out writing rules and discard them just as quickly if they aren’t for you, because there’s no set in stone way to doing things. Break all the rules if you want, the point is just to write. XD

Thanks!!

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casual-eumetazoa · 4 years

Note

Hello! I love your rant about writing, and I agree with you but wonder if you have any advice for someone who’s getting back into writing after a long break? I write a few chapters of a doctor who fixit when I was 13, then one good omens fic when I was 15, and now I’m almost 17 and I feel awful whenever I write because I feel like my characterisation and dialogue are off. I have such high standards for myself and I fell like I’ve wasted so much time and it’s too late now I’m 17. Any advice?

hey there! thank you for thinking that i am qualified enough to answer this lol. seriously though, i’ll try my best but take this with like a whole tablespoon of salt cause i am just one person with an opinion and experience but no officially published works who probably made around 100$ total from my writing in my entire life,,,,

and also i have never read a “how to write” book ever

so first of all, there is no such thing as too late to be a writer! this isn’t a kind of thing like sports or music where age supposedly matters. in fact many famous writers didn’t even start writing till they were in their 20s, 30s, 40s, etc, you get the picture. also things like language ability and vocab richness only reach their peak around 25-30 years of age so your writing will continue to improve naturally as you get older

really the only thing that matters with writing is practice and feedback. the more time you spend writing, the better you will get at it. it’s a bit trickier with feedback cause it is not always helpful, but honestly self-evaluation plays a big role in my experience as well. basically the more experience you get at writing, the better you will be able to judge your own stuff and know how to fix it. at some point you will look back at the stories you wrote several years prior and will know exactly what’s wrong with it and how to fix it. but getting good feedback can greatly accelerate this.

so basically the best writing advice anyone can give is to keep writing! and then the only question is what you can do to write more.

for me, the two important things have always been journaling and writing for myself. journaling is pretty self-explanatory and it has some other benefits, like benefits for mental health and general well-being, so it’s a win-win. i’ve been journaling consistently since i was 14 and i often go back to old entries for a kick of nostalgia, and also to see how my writing ability and style have developed over the years.

i think the problem a lot of people have with journaling is that they find it boring or pointless, like i regularly have weeks when nothing interesting at all happens to me and there are no powerful emotions to process, and writing about what i had for breakfast just doesn’t cut it. that’s why i use my journals more for just writing down random thoughts that occur to me, as well as for writing down random bits of stories. most of those bits just stay in the journals forever but sometimes i find bits of plot or lines of dialogue in my journals that i later use for other stories.

the second thing is just writing stuff for yourself, and allowing yourself to write something bad. like, i’ve written over a million words (and no this is not a number i’ve pulled out of my ass, i’ve actually added it up once for laughs) of horrible self-insert fanfic, most of which has barely (if any) plot, and i know it’s bad so i don’t show it to anyone, but i still really enjoy writing it because i am writing for myself.

it is actually an important writing skill, to disengage your inner critic, because that is the mindset you should always have when writing the first draft. first drafts are always horrible! they only become good when you edit them, typically many times if it’s a lengthy story, and that is when the inner critic becomes useful.

there’s a piece of writing advice that goes something like “write drunk, edit sober”, and there are many ways to achieve that “drunk” state of mind without alcohol (though i do write better after a pint of beer, ngl.........). mostly it’s down to achieving so-called “flow”, which a lot of writers just call inspiration, and it’s a state in which you are doing something without thinking. if you’re neurodivergent or know the lingo, the extreme version of this is hyperfocus - a state in which you even lose the sense of time and can keep writing (for example) for hours on end

writing bad stories for your own enjoyment is a great way to master this. you just sit down and type up whatever comes into your head and that’s it. you don’t even have to read it back, and you definitely don’t have to edit it. since it’s for your eyes only, you can just focus on having fun with it and learning how to freewrite and reach that flow state if you can and benefit from it

another absolutely crucial skill for writing is reading. a lot of reading. and it doesn’t have to be serious literature, just read as much as possible of whatever you enjoy and consider good writing. cause thing is, “good” and “bad” are arbitrary, and you can’t please everyone, so just find the stuff you personally love and try to understand what it is about it that makes you enjoy it so much

there is also no harm in imitating for practice, though this is probably more helpful for developing style. in terms of characterization and dialogue, i think it’s more important to just read other stuff and make mental notes on what works and what doesn’t.

also for dialogue, i find that it really helps to read it out loud. actually that helps with writing anything but for dialogue in particular; like, often i read my stuff out loud to myself after the first edit and sometimes i will read it wrong cause my brain autocorrects stuff and that’s how i know what to fix

for characterization, i’d guess that the easiest way to fix it is to have a beta reader or a friend who is willing to help. feedback is great for any writing aspect as well, as long as it’s good feedback. i find that personally i learn the best from being pointed out what did work, because i am usually aware of what didn’t but just don’t know how to fix it at that point.

also imho at least characterization is one of the things you can take certain liberties with in fanfic, cause everyone has their own interpretation of characters and as long as you don’t stray too far from canon, readers usually don’t mind minor deviations.

so that’s about all i could think of and oof this is a lot of text!

tl;dr:

1) there is no such thing as “too old to start writing” or “too old to get back into writing”; all that matters is practice

2) practice is just writing, as much as you can

3) possible ways to achieve this is journaling (both about your life and as a scrapbook storage for thoughts, ideas, and story bits) and writing stuff just for yourself, and allowing it to be bad

4) “write drunk, edit sober” - first drafts always suck, so don’t overthink it, just write down whatever comes to your mind

5) reading as much as possible, and reading books in the genres you enjoy and want to write in is very important

6) reading out loud can work for improving dialogue

7) getting good feedback, especially imho getting feedback of what worked and what is really good in your story, can really help as well

i also have a note pinned to my blackboard titled “rules of writing”, which i have as a reminder of sorts, and if anyone wants i can share that as well

#ask #anonymous #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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idk-my-aesthetic · 5 years

Text

“Heroes” of our story- family day rewrite

aka the mostly edited d1 fic that's been sitting in my drafts for way too long where mal yells at the “heroes” of auradon

****TW for implied/referenced child abuse and really really brief mention/reference to s*xual ass*ult

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“Because of your mother my daughter was raised by fairies. Her first words, first steps, I missed it all.” Queen Leah gasped out, barely holding herself together. The Isle part of Mal laughed, she wouldn't have lasted an hour back home. But, Auradon had softened her, so she moved in closer, going to comfort the old woman.

“I’m so sor-”

Suddenly, Chad was there, blocking her from the woman and pushing her back. “Stay away from her!” He said, angry, like Mal was going to hurt some defenseless old woman.

She scowled at him, opening her mouth to defend herself, but before she could say anything Ben jumped forward, putting himself between her and the other boy.

“Don’t do this Chad.” Ben pleaded, acting as a wall between the larger boy and the VKs. Mal felt adrenaline spike in her veins, clenching her fists as she took in the situation around her. People from all across the lawn had stopped to gather and watch, and the other three, her crew, moved in behind her, ready to fight. We were supposed to be safe here. Why can’t we just be safe?

Chad scoffed at Ben, like what he asked was so ridiculous. “They were raised by their parents, Ben. What do you think villains teach their kids? Huh? Kindness? Fair play? No way, okay?”

Mal’s ears began to ring. Her instincts screamed out to her.

Take him down before he takes you down.

Run or fight run or fight do something before someone gets hurt.

Do whatever you need to, (maim, stab, kill, hurt) to survive.

But louder than the rest they called out to protect them.

Chad was a threat. They were surrounded by threats, backed into a corner by sheer numbers. She needed to do something, gain some sort of power, some sort of leverage, some sort of escape.

So, she laughed. Loud and calculated and cold and evil. And all the hero’s gazes turn to her, fear in their eyes.

(Though they don’t see the fear in her eyes. Or hear the fear in her laugh, see the fear in the way she held herself, fear in the knives she carried, fear that oozed out of her in a noxious cloud that they were only blind to by choice. Fear that rolled of Jay and Evie and Carlos and every other child on that godforsaken island, visible no matter how hard they tried to keep it in.)

The crowd stared at her, silenced by her outburst. Some glared with full hostility, some shrank away in fear. Ben turned to her, worried confusion broadcasted on his face.

She stepped forward, smiling, pushing him to the side. Not quite behind her, but out of the line of fire. Safe. Like the other three were, as long as she kept attention on herself. Like they would be if she could give them an opportunity to escape.

A gasp rang out at her movement, as if she’d hit him, not given a light push. She ignored it, everything put into her instinct to defend, zeroing in on the boy in front of her.

“You’re right, villains don’t teach love and kindness. They teach cruelty and hatred and revenge.“ She leaned in close, her smile manic. This wasn’t the Mal that came out in Aradon, the closest to the real her. It was the one that would face off against someone on the Isle, the almost feral version ready to do anything to survive and protect those she loved.

She tilted her head, eyes locked with Chad’s as the boy glared back. “And let me tell you, they are very hands on teachers.”

“What are you talking about?” Chad practically snarled at her, moving into her space. She smiled, a giggle passing her lips, mocking him.

“Everyone says you’re not the clearest glass slipper in the shoebox, but I always thought you were at least a bit smarter than that. Smart enough to try and manipulate Evie into doing your homework, but ya know, you’re a good guy, so cheating and manipulation is fine.” She laughed again as he jerked forward, held back by Audrey’s hand grabbing his arm. The girl gave Mal a wide eyed look over Chad’s shoulder, confusion broadcasted on her face. Mal couldn't meet her eyes.

“Well, since I guess I have to spell it out for you.” She taunted, voice too light, smile too wide, eyes too green. “Please tell me what you think happens when you put hundreds of angry bitter people who hurt others for fun on an island together, and then trap them there with no clean water, no fresh food, and only the literal trash from the people who stuck them there to sustain themselves. Do you think they’d be a little bit angry?”

“You can’t act like they didn’t deserve it-” A voice called out. Mal met their eyes, her gaze boring into thier’s, silencing them. She noticed idly that she was staring down was the Sultana of Agrabah, a special hatred in her heart for the woman. Jasmine opened her mouth to talk again, but Mal cut her off. She kept the queen’s gaze as she continued, still smiling.

“How do you think these people will get out their anger, hmm? Do you think they’ll suddenly take up coloring, or do you think they'll keep hurting people because it's all they’ve ever done? And who do you think they're going to hurt, exactly? The heroes are all gone, yes? And, well, they can try to attack the other villains, but that won’t work out all that well, since the other villains are grown adults just as violent and powerful as they are.” Jasmine’s face began to go slack, transitioning from anger to horrified understanding. Mal couldn't help the malicious spike of pleasure at her discomfort.

“So who are they going to hurt? There's no one weak enough, besides maybe some minions and others who didn’t really deserve to be on the isle, but there's not enough to go around, so the villains mostly stew in their anger and let it build up.” She shrugged, the forced grin growing on her face.

“Then, all of a sudden, there’s children running around!” Mal swept her gaze around, seeing more and more people are starting to understand, eyes going wide and faces falling. “Since, you know, the only medical shipments are held under a monopoly by Judge Claude Frollo's gang, and contraceptives are rarely sent anyway as they are seen as a ‘luxury’.” Even Chad had backed down at this point, staring at her in slack jawed horror. But she wasn't saying this to just him anymore, she was now speaking to everyone, every privileged prince and princess who left children to die.

“So, there’s kids running around, practically defenseless little creatures, as pure and innocent as the ones here despite our evil blood. And hey, free fucking target practice.” She finally let her false smile fall, settling into a defiant sneer. A quiet gasp ran through the crowd, horror at conformation of what she’d obviously been implying.

“If it’s your kid or just some rando on the street who was too stupid to walk around without a knife, then bam! Free punching bag. Or, ya know, perfect way to get rid of your other urges if your disgusting enough, which plenty of the adults on the Isle are.” She scowled, looking around at the crowd of ‘heros’ with cold eyes. They seemed shocked, horrified, some crying. A few look back at her with anger, likely in disbelief or offense at her ‘rudeness’. She made sure to hold those people's gaze a moment longer than others, forcing them to back down first.

At last, Mal zeros in on Audry’s grandmother's face, seeing the old woman pale and open mouthed with horror.

“So, I’m sorry if my mother's actions caused you pain. But I have no sympathy for any of you. Because missing your child’s first steps, or not seeing your mother for 16 years, god I wish my childhood was that easy. And I can tell you about a pretty good amount of other kids who agree with me.” She spun on her heel, using the unrest of the crowd, the power she now had over them, to escape. The others followed close behind her, harsh looks given as they left.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

a/n: not my best writing but ive wanted to post this for a little while lol.... i usually post on my ao3 but i may or may not use this as a scene in my d1 rewrite that's gonna be part of my keep them close series so i didn’t wanna post it there....

ty for reading please comment and rb!! please im desperate for validation and comments make me post more.... also check out my other descendants stuff maybe? please? i currently have a jay centric fic about his magic in the works, and a few things that i think are pretty ok posted lol......

#descendants #mal descendants #mal daughter of maleficent #jay descendants #jay son of jafar #evie daughter of the evil queen #evie descendants #carlos de vil #carlos descendants #ben descendants #ben son of belle and beast #mal x carlos x jay x evie #mal x carlos x jay x evie x ben #core four #core 4 #core five #core 5

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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 5 years

Note

You’re my favourite fic writer I’ve ever managed to stumble across, so I hope you don’t mind me asking for advice. I’ve been wanting to write a fic for a really long time, but I just don’t have the courage to start. I keep making excuses as to why I’m not even trying, like ‘I could be doing something more productive!’ Or even ‘but will people even want to read this if I ever get around to writing it?’ And I’m stuck in this loop of procrastination. What would you do? I would love some tips

Hey thanks, I’m glad you like my stuff!

First, there’s nothing wrong with feeling held back from writing. I’m fairly deep into multiple projects, and I still need to force myself to actually open the word documents sometimes. And even then, often I just reread what I already have. Part of why I have so many fic projects and taking ask requests is so that (in theory) I can trick myself into working on one thing as a means of procrastinating on something else. But that first step is always the hardest.

For me, it helps to build momentum. You don’t have to start straight in with a draft. Butterfly started as a couple bullet points I typed into a notes app at 2 am. From there, I kept adding more and more details until I had a timeline of events, and after that, a chapter by chapter outline. That outline had both things I knew for sure I wanted, as well as things I wasn’t sure about and potential alternatives. I eventually started typing in actual prose and dialogue I wanted to use, and from there I shifted to a word document.

To address your concerns more directly, what to you is “productive?” It’s one thing to shirk your chores or job to write a fanfiction, but if it’s your leisure time anyway, why not? It’s a hobby, after all. I argue to myself that it’s time better spent because I’m creating something rather than passively watching a show or playing a video game.

And as for concerns that no one will read it, how much does that matter to you? Back to Butterfly, I wrote it for myself first, because it was a story that wasn’t as satisfying as just a daydream. Sure, since it’s a mystery story, I tried to keep hypothetical readers who didn’t have a complete outline in mind. But again, the process of editing and reworking elements to foreshadow twists without giving too much a way was part of the fun for me. I know the validations of readers is exciting, but don’t let the fear of missing out on that stop you from enjoying yourself.

If you are really concerned of what people think of your work, talk your time on it. That first 2 am idea spree was last August, but the first chapter was published in December. In between, I’d written a first draft up to chapter 17 and edited as I went. It took me that long to feel comfortable sharing my work with anyone. If you’re unsure, maybe give that a try instead of immediately publishing.

And know that finding readers is a slow process. Butterfly was extremely slow to pick up steam when I was a new author. Even now that I’m more established, Exit Light has barely been touched. There’s only so much control you have over whether or not people respond to your stuff. The water is always cold when you first jump in. Your not a failure just because you’re not an overnight sensation.

I hope some of this helps and wasn’t too rambley. If have any other questions about this or other writing stuff like finding ideas or technical craft, please feel free to ask. I love talking about this sort of thing. Good luck!

#writing #fanfiction #butterfly #seriously read Exit light #aconstantstateofwritingadvice

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callioope · 5 years

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Questions Meme!

Hello, yes, this HAS in fact been sitting in my drafts for ages and ages. Thank you to both @crazy-fruit and @ruby-red-inky-blue for tagging me and for waiting forever for me to answer (oops)! I’m sorry I took so long, but y’all ask really good questions and I had to think about some of them!

Question Set 1

1. How are you?

Oh, I’m doing alright! Thank you for asking. The earlier part of this year was rather rough, but therapy has been helping. I’ve been rather busy these past few weeks with traveling, and my schedule going forward is rather busy, too, so while I’m excited for those things, I’m also excited for the eventual moment I can just relax.

2. What would you say are your talents?

Writing. Making fancy color-coded spreadsheets. I’ve been told that my super power is getting random (annoying) songs stuck in other people’s heads. Does that count as a talent?

3. If you had the chance to start your life again, would you take it?

NOPE. No thanks. I like where I am at right now, and I would not want to relive my awkward years. Er, at least, my more awkward, younger years. Cuz I’m totally still awkward. Just less awkward. I hope?

4. Which language would you like to speak instantly?

HMM. ALL OF THEM. It’s really hard to choose!

Language fascinates me, and in another life I feel like I would have devoted a lot more time to learning more of them. Unfortunately, I really hated German class in high school because of the teacher’s tendency to put people on the spot -- I think that is sort of inherent in a language class, but I get anxiety speaking in public.

Anyways, I suppose I’ll answer Turkish to this question, since spouse and I keep saying we’re going to try to learn Turkish via Duolingo. For the record, my HS offered six languages, which was the most I’ve ever heard of an American school offering, and I was always quite happy with my choice of German. (The others were Spanish, French, Italian, Chinese, and Latin.) I do wish I had maintained my German better, and I that I had more time to learn Spanish.

5. Where would you like to be right now?

Honestly? I’m pretty happy when I’m at home. But if I had to answer where “else” would I like to be right now, out of the whole world? Being back on safari in Botswana is a top contender, as are a variety of places in Turkey, and also Munich.

6. What name would you give yourself?

I’ve always liked my actual name (Elizabeth). I know I go by Liz; one of my HS friends was quite stubborn and I’m a bit stuck with it now, but I don’t mind it. There are worse nicknames that come from Elizabeth. I used to go by Fiona online; I’ve always been fond of that one.

7. What is something you’re currently learning?

OOF, what a good question. I sorta blanked on this at first, and my first thought was uhhhh learning how to cope with my OCD??? I’m doing exposure therapy right now, ish. Emphasis on the ish. Also mindfulness. Does that really even count? I started a beginner’s knitting project several months ago that I never finished, does that count? (I just need to seam it, that’s what I’m putting off. I have knit plenty of scarves; however, this is my first hat.) I’m sort of teaching myself ukulele although I haven’t really learned any new chords or songs in awhile. I would very much like to take more photography classes with a focus on wildlife photography. That involves buying a new camera and... signing up for classes.

Question Set 2

1. What is a detail in a piece of art/a text that you like that you really admire?

This was very difficult, at first because it was like looking at a bin full of loose things and just seeing an assortment of color and being overwhelmed by it all, and then because once I did start digging around, I kept finding different ideas and it was too hard too choose.

Character-building: In the A Song of Ice and Fire series, when Arya starts working for the House of Black and White, Martin stops using the name “Arya” as she dons different identities. For example, he uses “Cat” for a bit, among other names. It shows she’s trying to be someone else, but the caveat is that there are still little mannerisms and such that show she hasn’t really left Arya behind (I think maybe she bites her lip or something? I don’t remember specific examples because it’s been over 5 years since I read these books, but I do remember really appreciating the general technique at the time).

Music: In The Beatles’ “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” I love those repeated arpeggios, over and over, building, intensifying, as the white noise comes in and you can just feel the heaviness of desire, of want... (and then I love how it just breaks so suddenly! And I know it wouldn’t have been intended this way because that’s the end of side one, but since I listen to the whole album on spotify, then those bright chords of “Here Comes the Sun” come in and god Abbey Road is the best Beatles album)

Writing: the poetry of Florence + The Machine’s “All This and Heaven Too,” obviously, since literally the title of my blog comes from that. I’d quote that whole song honestly. There’s something that speaks to me about the incapability of language to fully encompass just... everything. I mean, love in specific here, but also just everything. Words are just these little boats we put meaning on and we hope they make it to the other side but everyone takes ‘em a little differently.

Like, look at this:

And the words are all escaping, and coming back all damaged And I would put them back in poetry if I only knew how

And this:

Words were never so useful So I was screaming out a language that I never knew existed before

Anyways, there’s also something just incredibly soothing about the music, too, and how she sings the song. There’s another line, from Sara Bareilles’ “Miss Simone” that goes “How does she know what a heart sounds like?” which pretty much sums up how I feel about “All This and Heaven Too” (and also many of Sara Bareilles’ song, especially that particular album, but I digress).

Anyways I did have some art examples, but I think I’ve rambled long enough.

2. Is there an idea that you really liked but had to discard because you couldn’t get it to work?

If I really like an idea, I don’t really “discard” it so much as put it on the shelf to attempt later. Out of recent fic ideas, I’ve really struggled with “How to Lose a Spy in 10 Days.” I first thought of this in late spring 2017, and for awhile I couldn’t stop thinking about it, but I was working on Whatever I Do at the time, and wanted to wait before starting another WIP. By the time I got to writing this, the inspiration well had sort of dried up.

I really like the idea of a fun cat-and-mouse rom-com idea where Jyn and Cassian keep outsmarting each other, with a whole lot of competency kink, some “oh shit we actually work well together!” and maybe some battle couple. And I was really looking forward to both the moment when they both finally let their guards down around each other and the big confrontation when they actually find out each other’s identities. But it involved more mission writing than I was prepared for, and I really struggled with it. I think I need to start over but that involves a lot of working, so it’s unfortunately shelved for now, and I’m working on a “You’ve Got Mail” concept instead.

3. Is there something fandom-related you would like to be able to do (i.e. I’d like to be able to make gif sets but can’t)?

Oh, yes, absolutely! Really anything that’s not writing related, lol. Gif sets, art, etc. But most of all, I have a music video idea for the song “So Close” from Enchanted--like I have a whole story board plotted out in a google doc. But I don’t have any video editing software, don’t even know how you get the scenes for a music video, etc. I have made videos before, but not since high school, and I don’t even have the cheap, basic video editing program I used back then. Sometimes I think I should just attempt make a gif set instead, but there are so many lyrics! and scenes that go with the lyrics! that I don’t know how to consolidate it into that format anyways.

4. What is a skill you’ve acquired through fandom work?

Hmm, this was tough. I’m going to say HTML. I’m not up-to-date on webdesign at all, but back in my early fandom days, I ran a few fansites. I still sometimes use HTML while leaving comments or to edit posts on dreamwidth or w/e. It’s super basic, but it has helped me at work at a variety of jobs. I take it for granted that people my age should know basic HTML, but a lot of them don’t, and then a lot of people I work with now are older and definitely not tech savvy.

5. Do you think anyone can learn to create great art, or does it take talent?

Well, I’m going to cheat a little. I do think think that anyone can learn to create great art, but I also think that everyone has a talent at something, and part of learning to create great art is recognizing your skill sets and honing those. If that makes sense? I’ve sort of seen both sides to this. I’ve seen naturally talented people create great things, but I also think that they’re probably cheating themselves if they’re not learning and honing their craft and trying to get better. But I’ve also seen people who started out making things that maybe you wouldn’t call great, but they worked hard over and over again, and looking at their work now, you’d say they were talented without ever knowing the difference. Great art = talent + learning + passion. Did that even answer the question? ...moving on

6. Do you prefer AUs or in-universe? Why?

I prefer to write in-universe, for sure. I find modern AUs more challenging, mostly because--and I feel kinda bad saying this--it’s very difficult for me to tap into Jyn and Cassian’s characters without some kind of tragic background. Their experiences and how they coped with them shape their personalities, and it’s really hard to separate them from those. My WWII was easier because, hey, it’s war, not so different from in-verse. But I initially tried to write Learning Curve in a modern AU and I was just totally bored. Putting it in universe made it more interesting to me, especially having to finagle a happier plot inverse. IDK, it might even be that I generally struggle to make up any conflict in modern AUs that feels interesting.

THAT SAID, lol, I definitely read either. So it’s probably strange for me to be hung up on it because I’ve read nice fluffy modern AUs and found them perfectly engaging.

Tagging: @theputterer, @magalis, @allatariel, @mythologicalmango, @threadsketchier MY USUAL DISCLAIMER APPLIES: no pressure if you just don’t wanna, AND if anyone sees this and was like “aw hey i wish she’d tagged ME” well guess what, I wish I did too! so go ahead and do it and let me know and then i’ll know to tag you next time, too :-)

Questions:

When you suffer a setback or a series of setbacks when creating (writing, drawing, knitting, any kind of crafty project thing you work on... even work), what are some strategies you use to cope with that stress and move forward?

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to create/make and what did you learn from it?

What part of a bicycle would you be?

What’s a helpful writing (art/crafting/work) technique you’ve learned?

What’s a piece of art that made you see things differently?

You’re a new addition to the crayon box. What color would you be and why?

What was the last board game you played and what did you like or not like about it?

*sorry these came out rather writer heavy!

#about me #tag meme

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thepartyresponsible · 5 years

Text

this fill is for @plantgrapes, who asked for frank castle and matt murdock as “ghost hunters a la buzzfeed unsolved.”

i have seen about...sixty-five collected seconds of buzzfeed unsolved. so this fic is actually about frank, who used to be haunted, and matt, who fixes hauntings, going around pretending to be ghost hunters while actually being ghost killers.

it’s frank, so warnings for violence and ptsd.

It works because it has to. The restless dead may be rich in misery, but they are almost universally poor in material goods. Foggy edits the videos together, and Karen does the research, and Matt looks affable and earnest on camera while Frank, at his best, sometimes earns the title of long-suffering skeptic instead of surly killjoy.

Ghost hunting can be reasonably profitable, but they aren’t hunting so much as they’re mercy killing. And there’s never any cash in mercy kills. Frank spent enough time in the murder business to know there’s never any money in mercy at all.

“Oh, yikes,” Matt says, as the EMF reader beeps and bips an insistent staccato beat. “We’ve got a live one.”

Frank holds his face perfectly still. He does not react to the terrible pun.

Foggy giggles off-camera, and Frank thinks, with less longing than he used to, that he could’ve died in Kandahar.

Matt curls his hand around Frank’s elbow, shuffles closer than he needs to, and makes an interested noise in the back of his throat. “What’s it say, Frank?” he asks, nodding at the reader in Frank’s hands.

Frank doesn’t really understand the damn thing. They bought it online because all the other ghost hunters had them. It has something to do with electromagnetic fields, and, as things get spookier, it sometimes obligingly lights up its little line of LEDs like a tiny, handheld rave for ghosts.

They had to alter it for Matt, because viewers kept asking inconvenient questions about Matt’s constant awareness of the silent EMF reader. So now it beeps and bops with increasing intensity as the reading climbs higher.

Foggy claims all the noise adds drama, which is what Foggy usually says about any annoying bullshit that’s going to ruin Frank’s whole damn day.

“Frank,” Matt repeats, fingers tightening around Frank’s arm. “What does it say?”

Frank should’ve worn long sleeves. Matt always gets handsy on the creepier jobs. Frank knows that. He knew that when he picked this shirt out this morning.

He really needs to stop all this self-sabotage. He suffers enough as it is.

“It says,” Frank reports, dutifully, “that this hundred-year-old building has some real shitty wiring.”

“Ah.” Matt smiles that sweet, secretive smile he uses on reporters and fans and attractive cops who show up halfway through a job with unhelpful questions. Frank has no idea why he’s using it on him. There’s nothing Matt needs from him that he couldn’t get just by asking.

“It’s a good thing you’re here, Frank,” Matt says, as they start navigating their way down the dark hallway, toward the rooms where the ghost children are supposed to walk. “Without you to ground me, who knows where I’d end up?”

Matt found Frank in crisis, walking the streets of NYC in the middle of the night, three months after the divorce, hauling sixteen dead men in his wake. The ghosts chattered and whispered and wailed, and he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t breathe without feeling their hands wrapped jealously around his throat. He walked with deep, festering wounds in his soul that ripped open again and again, leaked blood and hope and life right out of him.

Without Matt, he’d be dead. And there’d be seventeen dead men following Russo around, and Russo wouldn’t ever know or care, because Russo welded his soul shut, made his heart impregnable and cold.

Ghosts don’t haunt places. Memories haunt places. Walls can hold echoes of fear and pain and joy and hate, but they can’t hold souls. Ghosts only ever haunt people.

But the process of ripping a ghost away from its focal point is ugly and brutal and hideous to watch. It’s a second death. It’s not something that sells well. They’d lose their sponsors over it. So they sneak around places with troubled pasts, hunting safe scares for their subscribers, and they do their real work with the cameras turned off.

A door slams shut in front of them. It’s a draft, or maybe the hospital remembers a patient with a temper.

Matt flinches hard and leans into him, laughing in the tight, anxious way he laughs when he’s pretending to be startled. Frank can feel the warmth of him, all along his right side.

He really, really should’ve worn longer sleeves.

Matt senses ghosts, the same way he senses people. It caused all sorts of problems for him when he was younger, because he couldn’t always tell the difference.

“It’s the heartbeat,” he tells Frank, once, when he’s drunk after a particularly grim night. “They can get the heat and the shape and the smell of a person right, but they mess up the heartbeat. They do it out of habit, like breathing, but they’ll forget for a while, or they’ll get a song stuck in their heads, beat to that instead. I once caught a ghost cuz his heart was beating ‘Highway to Hell.’”

Frank never asks about his ghosts. He doesn’t want to know. He killed them once, or he got them killed, and they attached to him because they could smell their blood on his hands.

He went to war, and he killed them. And then, when he could, as soon as he found someone who could do it for him, he killed them all over again.

He felt each one ripped out of him, like getting a tooth pulled from his heart instead of his skull. A long, building scream of pressure and then a sharp, bone-deep crack as they lost their hold. Every nerve in his body sent up static signals, like getting electrocuted all over, like getting plugged into something strong, and boundless, and starving.

He felt hollow afterwards, and he slept for two days straight.

“They’re not always malevolent,” Matt says, another time. “It’s a 60/40 split, maybe. The warmer ones mean well, help out sometimes. People think they have angels.”

“Angels,” Frank says. That sounds nice. Sounds like not feeling alone every Goddamn second of his life. Sounds like not calling his kids from hotel rooms and roadside diners, sending postcards when he remembers, trying like hell not to forget their faces but knowing, when he sees them, that they won’t look the same anyway.

“They’re parasites, Frank,” Matt tells him, tone so gentle that Frank wants to punch him right in the mouth. “It’s in their nature. They can’t help it. They feed from the living. All of them.”

“Everyone’s a fucking parasite,” Frank says. And he leaves, because he has to. Because if he sticks around any longer, he’s going to tell Matt that the 60/40 split is bullshit, and he knows, just like Matt knows, just like everyone knows, that there’s no good or bad, no warm or cold, no malevolent or benevolent.

There is no or. With people, living or dead, it’s always an and.

Frank earned every one of his ghosts by killing someone who was a mix of saint and sinner, just the same as Matt murders ghosts who are a blend of angel and demon.

They’re killers. For whatever cause, they’re killers. Sometimes Frank can’t get the taste of blood out of his mouth.

The video of the abandoned mental hospital goes viral overnight, because Frank is exceptionally surly, and Matt is especially charming, and Foggy catches the doors slamming on camera, and the machines designed to light up and beep manage to light up and beep in particularly theatrical ways.

They get thousands of views, then tens of thousands. It climbs higher. Karen makes a lot of enthusiastic noises at her phone.

Before they leave town, they pull the ghost of a boy who died in that hospital out of the grandniece he’s haunted her whole life, passed from mother to daughter like a family heirloom for three generations.

The woman’s still crying when they leave two hours later. Frank doesn’t blame her. She’s never lived alone, never been without him, and, even now, three years on, he still sometimes misses the souls that huddled and shook in his overcrowded ribcage.

Sometimes harvesting ghosts breaks the host. It’s like resetting a bone or amputating a limb. People are never the same afterwards. But carrying a ghost is always eventually fatal.

They steal life. They have to.

The haunted grandniece’s mother died at forty-five of a heart attack. Her grandmother ate a bullet at fifty-two. The grandniece is thirty and exhausted, but, if she recovers from the shock, her life expectancy should go up by decades.

They saved what was left of her life. It’s a good thing. Good work.

Matt’s quiet on the drive back to New York. He saves the amiable charm for fans and viewers, and Foggy, Karen, and Frank are the only ones who see him like this, blank-faced and grim, worn down by the work that they do.

“Hey,” Frank says, because Foggy and Karen are in the other car, and so it’s his job to keep Matt steady. “It was the right thing to do.”

Matt laughs, soundless and eerie. He tips his head back against the headrest. “I can hear lies, you know.”

If it’s a lie, it’s only because Frank stopped believing in the right thing the moment after his first messy headshot knocked a soul out of its body. “You did what you had to do,” he tries, instead.

“There we go,” Matt says. He smiles. It’s small, and sad, and so transparently fond that Frank can’t look at it, not even in the reflection on the windshield. “Thanks, Frank.”

“She deserves a life,” Frank says. He’s gone off-script. He doesn’t know where he’s heading. With everyone else, he just keeps his damn mouth shut, but, with Matt, he’s always saying things before he has a plan. “She didn’t—that boy deserved one, too, but he lost it. And it’s her turn. She deserves a life.”

Matt tips his head Frank’s direction. He’s not wearing his glasses, and his eyes aren’t aimed the right direction. He does this sometimes. He means to look someone in the face, and he ends up staring straight at their hearts.

He only ever does it with people who know what he can do, so Frank thinks, maybe, it’s not an accident. Maybe it’s intentional. Maybe Matt reads hearts the way everyone else reads faces. Maybe this is his way of warning people he’s listening.

“You’re right.” Matt’s voice is quiet and scratchy, the way Maria used to sound, years ago, when she’d wake up in the morning affectionate and soft instead of cold and hurt and walled-off. “Everyone deserves a life.”

Frank swallows and focuses on the road. He doesn’t want to know what his heart is doing right now. He doesn’t want to see the expression on Matt’s face as he listens.

Between episodes, Matt freelances around the city. He goes to a lot of churches. He got kicked out of seminary school for fucking men or killing ghosts or both, so he has a sort of complicated relationship with most of the priests in town, but people will grab hold of any rope they see, when they’re drowning.

“Why don’t you tell these old bastards to fuck off?” Frank asks one evening, when he and Matt are sitting on the steps outside a church, eating cold sandwiches, waiting for Father Whoever to deign to speak to them.

“People trust them, Frank,” Matt says. He has mustard smeared on his chin. It’s adorable. “If you’re haunted, you go to a priest.”

“I hate these places.” Frank glares at the stained glass, gets a gunfire flash of memory, thinks about sacred places and penitents and how everything holy burns just as fast as everything profane.

“Hm,” Matt says. He licks at his mouth, maybe hunting for the mustard. He doesn’t get it. “Is it the guilt or the shame?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Frank advises. He takes a mulish bite of his sandwich and chews until he can speak like a sane, normal person. “It’s the lies.”

“Ah.” Matt seems perfectly at ease with that comment, like it doesn’t bother him at all, even with that cross hanging around his neck.

He prays for every one of the ghosts. He prays for the hosts. Frank once caught him praying for a raccoon they almost hit with the car.

Matt’s got so much mercy in his heart that Frank doesn’t understand how the damn thing doesn’t shatter apart every single day.

“It doesn’t change anything,” Frank says, finally. Matt didn’t ask, but Frank doesn’t care. “It’s bullshit. It’s just words. They promise you shit they can’t give, and then you just—these guys make a whole fucking life out of lying to people. At least we elect politicians.”

“Not sure that’s fair, Frank.” Matt’s voice is mild. His body language is loose and calm and so trusting it’s almost sleepy. “I don’t hear any lies from some of them. If they believe in it--”

“And you weren’t good enough for them,” Frank says, which isn’t what anyone asked, and isn’t relevant, and isn’t what he meant to say.

Matt’s quiet for a moment and then a delighted smile breaks across his face. “Are you holding a grudge against all of Catholicism for my sake, Frank?”

“You have mustard on your chin,” Frank says, because he probably can’t tell him to go fuck himself twice in two minutes, not right in front of a church. “You asshole,” he says, instead, as a compromise.

Half their fans think they’re fucking. Frank pretends not to notice. Matt knows, of course, because he’s the one people overshare with the most, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. He keeps grabbing onto Frank’s arm, and leaning in close to murmur perfectly benign shit right into his ear, and sitting slouched into him at panels and interviews, so Frank thinks maybe he plays it up, to get more views or make a point.

Frank doesn’t care. Maria sends him a screencap and a shitty, passive aggressive text about accepting himself that she apologizes for later.

“Look,” she says, because she calls him, because she’s the kind of brave that looks right at the heart of things that hurt her. “That was cruel, and uncalled for, and I’m sorry.”

“Hey, Maria,” he says, “how’re the kids?”

“Fine,” she says. “You should visit more. That’s not why I called.”

“I don’t care,” Frank tells her. “It’s all over the fucking internet. You think I don’t know? I don’t care what people say. I don’t care what you think. It’s fine.”

“That’s a lot of not caring,” Maria says, and it’s like a live wire straight to his chest, the way she says it. Sad and gentle and serious, like a goodbye kiss. “It just hurts to see you happy without me, Frank. That’s shitty, and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

Things rotted and fell apart between them, and that’s always going to be Frank’s fault. Because Frank went to war and came back someone else, and it’s not Maria’s fault she didn’t love the stranger who came home. It’s not Maria’s fault she started flinching away from him.

He never, ever would have hurt her, but he scared her anyway. And some things don’t ever get better, so you cut your losses, and you run.

“I’m sorry,” Frank says, because he is. Because he probably always will be. That black well of hurt inside him doesn’t belong to anybody. He thought for a while that it was something she did to him, some pain she inflicted on him when she cut herself free, but Frank knows now that she cut herself just as deep. They were stitched together, after all.

If she hadn’t left him, he wouldn’t have found Matt. And if he hadn’t found Matt, those ghosts would’ve eaten him alive.

“Christ, Frank,” Maria says, “don’t be sorry. Just be happy. And visit sometimes. Your kids miss you.”

They do a whole episode at a graveyard in the middle of the night, and Matt’s smug the entire time, because he’s the only one who doesn’t trip over any gravestones. “You should be more respectful to the dead,” Matt tells him, as Frank’s nursing a badly stubbed toe and offering a litany of crude suggestions to Leticia B. Vaughn, 1819-1836.

“Also,” Foggy says, off-camera, “Leticia’s a minor, so maybe watch your language.”

“She’s two-fucking-hundred years old,” Frank snarls back.

“What was the age of consent in the 1800s?” Matt asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“Not high enough,” Karen says. “She died in childbirth. Sorry, Frank. She probably hates men with good reason.”

Frank cannot believe that this is his life. He used to murder people, professionally. Back then, people took him seriously. His own wife divorced him because she looked at him and saw a monster looking back.

These idiots are needling him like they’ve never been scared of him in their lives.

It hurts like something cracking open, like blood coming back to fingers nearly lost to frostbite. He throws in one last, final, “Fuck you, Letty,” and then clears his throat before anyone notices the way his hands are shaking.

“Hey,” Matt says, hooking his arm through Frank’s. “Protect me from the angry Letty’s of the world.”

Frank is so much worse than a dead 1800s woman. He breaks every nice thing he touches.

The thing about Matt, though, is that he isn’t very breakable. And his kindness is almost saintly, but he isn’t, on the whole, very nice.

He takes two malignant spirits from the overnight groundskeeper, and the man is so grateful afterwards that he cries on Matt’s shoulder and blesses him six separate times.

Those spirits, when they go, aren’t anything like grateful. But Matt never flinches, not once.

They go to Josie’s when they’re back in town. It’s a tradition they probably can’t keep for very much longer. “People keep asking for you,” Josie tells them, like they’ve brought syphilis into her bar instead of paying customers. “They say they’re from the internet.”

“They’re not from the internet,” Foggy says. “They use the internet. They find outstanding bars like this one on the internet.”

“They asked me,” Josie says, visibly outraged, “for a pineapple mojito.”

“Jesus,” Frank says, picturing the subsequent bloodshed.

“And may God have mercy on their souls,” Matt intones beside him.

They stay for a couple of hours, drink their way through at least half a bottle of uniquely terrible tequila, and play pool until their fine motor skills degrade past the point of entertainment. A small crowd comes sneaking in behind them, and Frank wonders if this is why Karen and Foggy have been so gleeful about their phones recently.

He stopped checking the view counts on their videos a month or so back. As long as they’re getting paid enough to live, he doesn’t need to know more.

Someone sends them a tray full of shots, and Foggy wades off, charming smile in place, to thank their admirers, and it’s all fine, really, until someone gets weird with Karen, and she drops him to the ground before Frank can even pass his drink to Matt.

“Whoops,” Karen says, Bambi-blinking with a look of practiced innocence. “Time to go.”

“Take your groupies with you!” Josie yells, and Frank honestly doesn’t know how she stays in business with a temperament like that unless she’s running an absolute mess of drugs through this place.

They empty out into the night. Foggy peels off to walk Karen home, and Frank ends up taking Matt all the way to his place, even though Matt’s not that drunk, and Frank’s not that sober, and it’s honestly a little hard to tell which one of them is holding up the other.

“I’m gonna go see Maria,” Frank tells him, when they get to Matt’s door, and Matt’s waiting, expectantly, like there’s something Frank forgot to tell him. “To see the kids,” he clarifies. “I can’t avoid her forever. And I miss her. You know? She was my best friend for years.”

“I know,” Matt says. He’s good with things that like. Painful things.

The dangerous thing about Matt Murdock is that he makes you feel like you can hand him every bit of pain you’ve got, like he’s some kind of Atlas. Like he’ll hold up your whole world while you find your place within it.

Frank’s never thought of pain as something you could share. It’s always been something he lived with or destroyed or evaded. It’s something he ate, piece by piece, until it poisoned him or disappeared.

Frank doesn’t know how the hell those priests could turn Matt away. He’s the holiest thing Frank’s ever found.

“I don’t love her anymore,” Frank says. But it’s a lie. “I’m not in love with her anymore.” And that’s true.

“Frank,” Matt says, slow and careful, voice curling up like there’s a question he won’t ask.

That’s the trouble with Matt. That’s what Frank’s learned. From the day they met, Matt’s been taking other people’s nightmares, swallowing pain, banishing demons. He takes bad out of the world, but he can’t ever seem to ask for anything good. Not for himself. Not ever.

“I wanted you to know that,” Frank says.

Matt’s turned his direction, head cocked, mouth slightly open, when Frank kisses him. He makes a soft, surprised noise into Frank’s mouth, and Frank’s been letting himself think about this for weeks, but he still not ready for it.

It’s not that different, really, from kissing a woman. He’s not sure why he thought it would be.

Matt’s warm and familiar and friendly, and it’s not until Frank’s got him pressed fully back against the door that he realizes things are getting a bit out of hand.

“Okay,” Frank says, stepping back, licking his lips and tasting Matt’s. “I wanted you to know that, too.”

Matt smiles at him, and there’s an echo of that very first smile Matt gave him, when Frank was stretched to the point of splitting right in half, hauling dead men behind him with every step, waking up to the taste of blood and gunpowder every damn morning.

Frank’s spent years being grateful to Matt for sensing all those ghosts, when all Frank could feel was the war. He’s just now realizing that maybe the most miraculous thing about Matt Murdock isn’t that he can see ghosts. It’s that he could see Frank beyond them.

“If you come by in the morning,” Matt says, “I’ll take you to breakfast.”

Frank’s heart is doing something stupid in his chest, beating out a rhythm he’s reasonably sure isn’t meant to sustain life. It’d be embarrassing, except Matt’s smile is wide and dopey and getting sweeter by the second.

“Yeah,” Frank says. He takes a step back. He knows, in the morning, that Matt will be waiting for him. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll be here.”

#writing #fic #fill #frank castle #matt murdock

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chemically-imbalanced-romance · 6 years

Text

A New Tradition

Prompt/Synopsis: Decorating for the fall

Requested by: Day 6 of @sanderssidesspook

Trigger warnings: Feeling like a heavy burden

Word count: 1620

A/N: First time in a WHILE I’m posting a fic the same day I wrote it, with only a few hours between drafting and editing. Feel free to point out any mistakes!

There was nothing the Sanders’ household loved more than tradition. From the day Roman and Logan first moved in together they began carefully crafting a routine. When Patton joined them, it took a minute to adjust, but he found his place, too.

Fall was no different. Second only to Winter, it was their busiest season. So their traditions were dear to them. It was their promise of spending time tomorrow, no matter how busy they got.

The days leading up to October went like so: Roman took a day off work to spend all day baking and playing video games with Patton. Together, they made a plan on what the three of them would be doing for Halloween that year, considering Logan preferred to let them make the plans and to follow along; A week later, Patton, who was a stay at home boyfriend, and Logan, who often telecommuted, ignored their responsibilities in favour of spending the day together; Another week later, and Roman took another day off to spend all day in bed with Logan, talking and eating and ranting away their stress.

Finally, October first would come around, and they would spend whichever day they could get free that week relaxing together, watching Halloween movies, and decorating the house.

This year, though, it was different. This year was their first year with Virgil.

They were floundering- They hadn’t had such a big schedule change since Patton joined their relationship, and that was years ago. Logan, who thrived off routine, was taking this particularly hard, and took out his stress on his work. Patton and Roman overcompensated to the point of making everyone uncomfortable. And Virgil himself… He was feeling like the biggest burden in the world.

All throughout September, Virgil spent more and more time in his room, working on his art. The others started to see them more on their Tumblr dashes than in their own house.

Virgil had always been unsure of their place with them. From the moment he met them- They fit so well together, so coordinated, so sure. He knew he wanted to be with them, but didn’t even believe them when they sat him down and practically spelled out the fact that they wanted to be with him, too.

He insisted there was no place for him. No room.

After several months of gently assuring him of his place and adjusting their usual routine, he finally, finally grew comfortable enough for them to ask him to move in. They’d suggested turning Logan’s office into another bedroom, but he adamantly refused. He didn’t want them having to change anything for him. After a week or two of just staying with them, an extended sleepover, he finally allowed himself to accept.

That was a few months ago, and Halloween would be their first holiday together. Virgil was terrified they were going to realize he didn’t belong with them.

Halfway through the month, Patton had finally had enough. Virgil had been hiding from them for ages, and now he refused to even come to dinner!

He went up to Virgil’s room and demanded to know what was going on. Virgil finally let them in, but Patton softened as he saw the tears in his eyes.

“Are you mad?” Virgil had asked, and Patton hesitated.

“A little.” He wrapped Virgil up in his arms and pulled him against him. “I miss you.”

Patton had held Virgil while he cried and explained how scared he was, how he was expecting them to kick him out any moment now. Once Patton had gotten him to calm down enough, he rounded up the others and, despite Virgil’s protests, explained that they’d been bad boyfriends and needed to fix some things.

“Virgil, if we aren’t doing everything we can to make you feel loved and secure, we aren’t doing our job.”

Logan walked in with a few pieces of paper. He set one on the coffee table and handed each person a pen- Roman pink, Patton light blue, Virgil purple, and Logan himself kept the navy blue one.

He told them to draw a line to each person they were or wanted to be romantically involved in, allowing Virgil to go last for his anxiety. They ended up with a web- There was a line connecting each person.

Next, Logan gave them each their own piece of paper and told them to map out everything they did that week. Rather for Virgil hiding from them or everyone still getting used to the schedule, everyone had apparently spent little to no time with Virgil.

“Nooooo!” Patton whined, squishing Virgil to his chest and holding him tightly. Roman knelt down and held his hand as he spewed out apologies.

Virgil glanced up at Logan, who looked so done Virgil almost laughed.

“Okay,” Logan said, gently pulling Virgil free from Roman and Patton’s embrace and sitting him on his lap. “I think our first course of action should be mandatory dinner. Unless something happens, we eat as a family.”

The other two nodded fiercely. “We can alternate who helps Patton cook!” Roman suggested with a grin.

“And the other two will clean up,” Patton said. “And- And maybe once a month we can have a family day! We can alternate who chooses what we do!”

Roman punched the table. “And we need to have one date night every week.”

“Okay, well-”

“Every two weeks,” Patton suggested, before Logan could say something a little too bitter. He smiled at him.

Then they all had looked to Virgil, who tensed and looked down. Logan took his hand.

“And… Virgil, what do you think?”

“I- I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I like everything you guys said.”

“Well, if you have anything else to add, we wouldn’t want to miss it!” Roman pouted.

“I just- I’m new to this.” He squirmed. “I’ve never been in a poly relationship before, I don’t know how this works-”

“Honey,” Patton knelt down in front of he and Logan, resting his hands on Virgil’s knees, “It’s not… It can be anything we want. There are no rules, you know? We’re making our own, yeah, but that’s just so we can make sure no one gets left out. We’re all here living in this house because we love each other, and we want to be together. And if there’s something you want to add, well- That’s great! Because it’s your relationship, too. And we’d love to hear anything you have to say.”

“I just…” He sighed. “I just missed spending time with you guys, without- without all this pressure, you know?” He bit his lip. “I’m not saying I regret moving in, not at all, but… Don’t you think we’re trying too hard?”

“I sort of felt that way, too,” Roman said nervously. “I mean- I think we should still go on with the plan! But I think we should have done that from the start. Instead of pretending there wasn’t a change, just… I dunno, change it.”

“Alright.” Logan rested his free hand on Virgil’s back, rubbing gently. “We’ll keep that in mind, then.”

Since then, they made an effort to divide their time in a way better suited to each of their needs. Logan needed a more alone time, and Virgil needed a bit more time with the others, but it was an easy change. Even though Logan preferred to be left out of the planning, he and Virgil both were part of the planning for how they wanted to spend October.

October first, Patton happily came into the living room with two mugs, apple cider sloshing over the rim.

“Patton,” Logan sighed. “You’re getting it all over the carpet.”

“Sorry!” He giggled, coming to sit next to Virgil curled up on the couch, handing him one of the mugs. Virgil smiled shyly.

Roman ripped the tape off one of the boxes, the rest of them flinching as the snarling ripped through the room.

“Did you really need every single box?” Logan sighed. “Honestly, Roman, we can’t really fit four households of decorations in one house.”

“We can make it fit!”

Patton giggled as they argued. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked Virgil, kissing the top of his head.

“I’m doing better.” He smiled a little. “I won’t always be like this, I promise. I won’t always be this clingy.”

“It’s okay if you are.”

“I like clingy!” Roman said.

“No you don’t,” Virgil mumbled. “No one does.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Odysseus doesn’t have a monopoly on boyfriends!”

“Jesus Christ,” Logan muttered.

“It’s whatever you need, babe,” Patton reminded him.

“We’re all in this relationship because we like each other,” Logan agreed. “I might need a bit more… Space than the other two, but I still enjoy your company.”

“Hey! Hey, Verge! Hey, Verge! Look- Look at this!” Roman grinned ear-to-ear, holding up two glass Nightmare Before Christmas Figurines. “We got your box! Come help me find a place to set this up!”

Virgil grinned and set his mug down, getting up to help him. The spent half the day decorating the house, replacing the pastel pillows Patton had picked out for the couch with the ones that used to be on Virgil’s bed before he moved out, putting up fake spider webs on the door, and replacing their normal dishware with things they bought from Spencer’s and Hot Topic.

They absolutely destroyed the kitchen cooking dinner, eating while watching scary movies and eventually moving their plates to cuddle. It’d only been a few weeks since they’d talked, but everyone was already feeling better about things. Adding Virgil to their relationship would call for some adjustments, but they’d do anything to make each other happy.

... *sighs* i’m tired

#roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #polysanders #sanders sides spooky month #sanders spooks #LAMP #virgil writes

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miguel-manbemel · 5 years

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Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 13: A Journey to Roman’s Kingdom - The Ultimate Sanders Crossover

This is the 13th episode in the Aspects & Fanfics blog, based on Sanders Sides by Thomas Sanders & Joan. It’s incredible to think how from a tiny little idea I had two weeks ago, a 29 page story could have been created. This is by far the new record for the longest episode in the fic, Virgil’s Revelation was only 22 pages long.

This episode is a homage, not only to Sanders Sides, but to all of Thomas’ career as a whole, as it is a crossover that features most, if not all, of his characters, from the Vines, the Shorts, Cartoon Therapy... I’ve been following his work back since late 2014, after all, and I haven’t seen many fics about things different from Sanders Sides, so I thought that they also deserved their place of recognition. There will be absences, like Sleep, but since he’s already appeared on his own in a previous episode, I don’t think it would be much trouble.

Okay, I’m not making this even longer with a long intro, so here we go. As usual, you can read previous entries of the Aspects & Fanfics blog right here. And I hope you enjoy this rollercoaster that has happened to be this episode. Until next time.

SYNOPSIS: After casually mentioning that Roman has indeed his own kingdom inside the Mind Palace, the Kingdom of Sandersia, populated with all the characters that Thomas has ever created, Thomas and the others decide to take on a journey to visit the kingdom, which will let them know in person characters like the shorts guys, Dr. Picani and many others. However, Roman is hiding a secret about his past in the kingdom that hasn’t told any of the other Sides.

WARNINGS: There’s more Prinxiety in the fic as the story goes on, and more unrequited Anxceit. As I said, this is a rollercoaster. It has moments of happiness, moments of fun, moments of emotion, and moments of angst, including mentions to the death of a beloved one for Roman and hints to homophobic reactions from Roman’s family against his coming out in the past.

In memory of Spanish director Narciso Ibáñez Serrador (1935-2019). You were such a huge influence in my life. Thanks to you I discovered my love for Broadway-like musicals and my love for editing. You and your work will never be forgotten. Rest in peace.

EPISODE INDEX

[Thomas and Joan are sitting on the couch. Thomas has just finished reading something on his laptop to Joan]

THOMAS: And so, this is the outline draft for the next Cartoon Therapy episode. What do you think?

JOAN: Well, it definitely has some good things… I loved the topic we’re discussing…

THOMAS: Okay…

JOAN: I loved the cartoon show that’s going to be the base for that…

THOMAS: I thought you’d like it.

JOAN: I also loved your ideas for the new patients that join Dot, Larry and Elliott. They’ll make a good story and they look cute. [takes a deep breath] But…

THOMAS: But?

JOAN: I don’t quite get the redesign you’ve applied on Dr. Picani, Thomas. I mean, he would look cool and all, but… having him wearing eye-shadow, his hair over his forehead, a purple necktie and jacket and suddenly speaking with a groveling voice… isn’t it a bit out of character for him?

THOMAS: Mmm… maybe?

[intro sequence]

THOMAS: What is up everybody?

JOAN: Again doing your videos?

THOMAS: Yes, Joan, you’ll have to get used to it.

JOAN: Okay, okay, you’re your own person…

THOMAS: What you have said about that redesign, Joan, it’s got me thinking. I certainly thought it looked cool while I was writing it…

JOAN: It made more sense in your head, right?

THOMAS: …sort of, now that you’ve said it. Now that I’ve seen it written, I can see it wouldn’t have worked at all. I don’t know why I’ve written that… well, to be honest, I think I do, but I’d have to check it out first, because this is not the first time this happens.

JOAN: Does that mean that you’re calling them again?

[Thomas leaves the laptop on the couch, Joan and him get up and go to Thomas’ usual spot]

THOMAS: Yep, exactly that. [yelling] Roman? Could you come here for a minute, please?

[Roman rises up, he’s showing a distracted starry eyed face]

ROMAN: Did you call, Thomas? Oh, greetings, Joan.

JOAN: Hi, Roman.

THOMAS: As a matter of fact, Roman, yes, I called you.

ROMAN: How may I serve you?

THOMAS: Where exactly did you get your idea for Dr. Picani’s redesign in the draft that I’ve just written?

ROMAN: It looks cool, doesn’t it? I knew you would like it.

THOMAS: Come on, Roman. Proofread it. We can’t use that design, it’s out of character for Dr. Picani.

ROMAN: [a little offended] Excuse me? I think he’d look like the prettiest creature in this world, other than me, [pedantically] but my design is unrepeatable.

THOMAS: Let me guess… You’re talking about your boyfriend Virgil?

JOAN: [surprised] Boyfriend?

THOMAS: It’s a long story, Joan, I’ll tell you later.

ROMAN: [smiling] How did you guess, Thomas?

VIRGIL: [rising up] I’m sorry, Thomas, I really am. I told him that it didn’t seem right to send you that design, but he wouldn’t listen.

ROMAN: Virge, honey, I have set as my supreme quest to make you leave your self-deprecating issues behind, and as my name is Roman Graham Alexander McDonald Carlos Sanders III, Prince and Heir of the Kingdom of Sandersia, I’m gonna fulfill it. Even if I have to put your marvelous face all over the world so that everyone can admire your beauty…

VIRGIL: [distressed] Please, Roman… Don’t… I mean it… Don’t do that.

JOAN: Thank God we don’t have to memorize Roman’s full name…

THOMAS: Okay, Roman. We get it. You love Virgil more than anything in this world, and that’s sweet and all, but you can’t let love blurry your common sense. You can’t redesign all my characters to look like Virgil, as if there was some sort of failure on the Matrix from my stories’ universe. Don’t you see it doesn’t make any sense?

ROMAN: [reluctantly] Okay, maybe you’re right, I guess…

VIRGIL: [relieved] Thank God…

THOMAS: Wait a second… did you say earlier… Kingdom of Sandersia?

JOAN: Your abilities of attention to details and memorization will always blow my mind, Thomas…

ROMAN: Yes, Thomas, it’s my homeland, and one day I’ll be its ruler.

THOMAS: You had never spoken about your homeland, Roman. Up until today, I didn’t even know that you had your own kingdom.

ROMAN: Well, Thomas, there’s no royalty without a kingdom, right?

JOAN: Tell that to the French Bourbons… Or the Greek royal family… Or the Burger King…

THOMAS: And how does your kingdom look like, Roman? Is it beautiful?

ROMAN: Very beautiful, but in a way, you already know it, Thomas.

THOMAS: What? What do you mean?

ROMAN: Let’s see if I can convey it in words… Have you ever heard about “The Neverending Story”?

THOMAS: Yes, I loved the first movie.

ROMAN: I don’t mean the movies, but the book by Michael Ende.

LOGAN: [rising up, with a squeaking yell] BOOK!?

VIRGIL: [jumps scared] WHAT THE F…! [putting his hand over his heart] Holy sssshoot… you scared me so bad… Again…

LOGAN: [ignoring Virgil, rising his hand, doing little jumps, overexcited] I did read it! I did read it! Pick me! Pick me!

ROMAN: Okay, okay, Teach, do your thing…

LOGAN: [with a face of contained happiness over sharing what he knows, masked with seriousness] It tells the story of a young boy named Bastian Balthazar Bux, who enters through some special book titled “The Neverending Story” into the land of Fantasia, which is made up of all of humanity’s fantasy. Every dream any human had, any wish, any fantastic creation they made or anything they wrote… Anything any human had ever conceived, it existed in Fantasia.

THOMAS: I see…

ROMAN: Sandersia follows the same principle, Thomas. It is made up of all of your creations. From the first poem you wrote as a teen to the latest Cartoon Therapy episode you created just now, including the Vines, the shorts, the fictional one-off YouTubes… any character you created, they’re all my subjects and my royal family rules them with wisdom.

LOGAN: So you’re like their Childlike Empress? It suits you… cause you’re a brat sometimes…

[Roman emits some offended Princey noises]

THOMAS: Man… I’d love to see that place.

JOAN: Me too…

[Joan and Thomas look at each other, both of their faces lighten up and they show a wide smile]

JOAN: Did you have the same idea I just had?

THOMAS: I think so… there’s some leftover pizza in the fridge and I’m hungry. I’ll share.

JOAN: [beat] I guess you didn’t. [sighs] I was thinking if we could go to Sandersia to see how it looks. Could we, Roman?

THOMAS: Hey, that’s a good idea! Could we?

ROMAN: [shows a little worried face] Sure. Joan can enter the Mind Palace, so they can also enter Sandersia.

VIRGIL: Is there any risk we should be worried about, Roman? You looked concerned.

ROMAN: [hiding his concern] Nah, I don’t think so. Everything should be safe there. And it could be fun. [frowns] But we must stay away from the Royal Castle.

THOMAS: Why?

ROMAN: I have… personal reasons, Thomas. I’d wish to keep them private for the moment if you don’t mind.

THOMAS: Okay, as you wish, Roman.

DECEIT: [appearing] I’m not missing it either. A world made of things that in the end are all lies? It looks like a paradise…

ROMAN: I don’t like the way you’ve described my country, Deceit.

DECEIT: Sorry. I think we should call the others. Honesty got really angry when we didn’t call him the last time. Patton, definitely won’t want to miss it, and it could be a good group experience for Wrath to get fully integrated into the team.

THOMAS: I agree with Deceit. Is it okay if we all go?

ROMAN: Of course it is, Thomas. Be my guests.

THOMAS: Okay. Patton, Honesty, Wrath! Everyone come here now, please!

[they all rise up]

PATTON: Hi, kiddos! I was baking some cookies, but I never reject the opportunity of seeing you all.

HONESTY: I was in the middle of preparing a teapot with a new tea mix I just invented…

WRATH: And I was watching “Jesus Christ Superstar”. I was in the middle of the “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” song…

ROMAN: Okay, if you want, you can go back to your chores, but I was wondering if you wanted to visit my homeland, Sandersia. We’re all going on a trip there.

PATTON: Yay! I have some cookies left in my pocket, so I can wait.

HONESTY: And I didn’t put the pot on the stove yet, so I’m ready.

WRATH: And it’s like the 57th time I watched that movie anyway, so I can join in too.

ROMAN: Very good.

THOMAS: So… how do we get there?

ROMAN: First, we need to get into my room, the door to Sandersia is over there.

THOMAS: Okay. Let’s go, then.

[everybody sinks down. There’s a white flash and they appear in Roman’s room. The room looks exactly the same as the last time, except that the forest of thorns in Virgil’s spot has been replaced by a huge rose tree full of purple roses]

THOMAS: I like the rose tree, Roman.

ROMAN: [sighs, looking at Virgil with a romantic glance] Me too. Purple roses started blooming one after the other when we…

VIRGIL: [nervously diverting the conversation, while blushing at the same time] Umm… Where is the door to Sandersia, Roman?

ROMAN: Oh, right, right. Well, the door to Sandersia is the front door of the apartment, of course.

JOAN: That’s it? So easy?

ROMAN: What did you expect?

JOAN: I was expecting some sort of magic portal full of light and beauty… like in fairy tales.

ROMAN: Well, sorry, but I thought that a good old door was the most practical thing to use. Besides, magic light is so expensive nowadays. And Thomas can already tell you that portals are a little bit dangerous by experience.

THOMAS: True. I almost broke a knee the last time. Don’t ask…

JOAN: [confused] Okay…

THOMAS: Well, if Sandersia is behind that door, let’s go.

[Thomas and Joan go to the front door. There’s a close-up shot of Thomas’ hand opening the door. Then a close-up of his face looking at the exterior. Then another one of Joan’s face of surprise]

THOMAS: Oh, my goodness…

JOAN: This is so… f… [bleep] ...ng… beautiful.

[camera zooms out quickly far away. Roman’s door is installed in what looks like a huge tree in the middle of a prairie, everything looks like taken from a Pixar movie, in CG animation. Thomas, Joan and the Sides go through the door, close it behind them and take a few steps forward]

PATTON: This is all so beautiful!

VIRGIL: It really looks like a Pixar movie or a recent Disney feature, like Tangled or Brave. It’s all really gorgeous.

ROMAN: I’m glad that you like my homeland, guys. It fills me with pride.

PATTON: [looking upwards, he gasps] Look, Thomas! Look at the sun! But be careful or you’ll get blind.

ROMAN: [invokes some special glasses for eclipses and gives one to Thomas and other to Joan] There you go.

THOMAS: [wearing the glasses] Thanks, Roman. [looks upwards to the sun, then overexcited yell] WOOOOOOOW! It’s Sun!

JOAN: Holy sh… [bleep] ! But it was me who created the special effects! And there he is, exactly as I made him in my laptop! Incredible!

THOMAS: I know! How can he be here in the flesh? Well, in the helium…

SUN: [from the sky] Greetings! Nice to meet you, Supreme Creators.

THOMAS: That’s… us?

ROMAN: Of course it is you, Thomas. You and Joan. You created him, didn’t you?

THOMAS: Um… Hi, Sun!

MOON: [rising up from behind a mountain, with a happy childlike voice] Hi, Thomas! It’s me, Moon!

THOMAS: [taking his glasses off, with a happy voice] Moooon!

SUN: [lashing out] Not again! This was my time! He was talking to me, now!

THOMAS: Okay, don’t fight, guys, you’re both celestial supreme entities, you need to be kind to each other.

MOON: [happily] Yes, let’s be friends!

SUN: [reluctantly] If you say so… Oh, there are some clouds coming to cover me. Well, I’m powerful, but not enough to defeat the powers of Florida weather, so I’m afraid it’s time for me to go…

THOMAS: Florida weather? I thought we were in Sandersia.

ROMAN: Thomas, Sandersia is in the Mind Palace, and the Mind Palace is in you, and you are in Florida, so Sandersia is in Florida right now.

THOMAS: Got it, a little complicated, but got it.

SUN: Until next time.

MOON: Bye, Sun! Bye, Thomas!

THOMAS: [waving his hand] Bye, guys!

[The clouds cover Sun, and Moon goes back behind the mountain]

THOMAS: That was wild!

ROMAN: Well, Thomas, it’s just the beginning. Let’s go.

[Thomas and the others start walking through a little road. After a while they get to a little neighborhood full of houses, each with its own front-yard]

THOMAS: This looks a lot like my town of Gainesville.

ROMAN: Maybe because it was inspired on it, Thomas… Oh, look who’s coming.

THOMAS: But… that’s me! Well, it’s been ages since I last wore that shirt with red and navy blue stripes, but still…

ROMAN: Don’t be fooled, Thomas. Of course everyone is going to look similar to you, you’ve played most of the characters in your stories. But here, each is their own person.

THOMAS: Then who is he?

STORYTIME GUY: [with his trademark narrator voice] Storytime! Thomas was confused because he didn’t know who I was until I nailed this narration.

THOMAS: Oh, you’re the Storytime Guy! Oh, it’s so weird, I feel as if I was talking to myse… never mind, I’ve just realized I already do this everyday with you, guys.

STORYTIME GUY: What’s up, Thomas? How are you doing?

THOMAS: Oh, I’m fine, I’m fine… And you?

STORYTIME GUY: Well, I’ve been out of work lately, but I don’t complain. It’s good to have some me time. The Vine years were so frenetically busy…

THOMAS: Yeah, I know. Viewers still love and remember you and would wish for you to keep on appearing in the shorts. It’s too bad that people don’t fall so easily into the narrations anymore. Now, they see me coming from miles away, so I just stopped trying. I guess it’s the price of getting known online. It was easier to sneak into them in the early years. Now the only potential victim I have left is my own mom.

STORYTIME GUY: It’s okay. I’ll always be here, as long as the Vines keep on existing and people remember me. Well, gotta go now. Have a nice day in Sandersia, guys, and I hope to see you again soon.

THOMAS: And I hope I’m able to give you more material to narrate soon. Bye, Storytime Guy…

STORYTIME GUY: [leaving] Bye, Thomas! Take it easy, guys and non binary pal!

PATTON: Wow! The Storytime Guy is so nice!

JOAN: He was played by Thomas and based on the real life Thomas, what else did you expect?

PATTON: True.

THOMAS: Aww! You’re too sweet, guys.

ROMAN: Okay, let’s keep going.

[the gang keep advancing around the neighborhood. After turning a corner, another person bumps into Thomas]

THOMAS: Awe! I’m so sorry.

TRAILER VOICE: [with his low voice] In a world, where you think you can cross a corner safely, and some fool bumps into you anyway…

PATTON: Oi, no need to be rude, it was an accident!

VIRGIL: It’s the Trailer Voice Guy… My, I wonder how they can identify each other here in Sandersia. The same car drive license could be equally valid for everyone, it seems, they all have the same face…

THOMAS: Something tells me that perhaps I should try to do more shows with different actors…

JOAN: Well, we’ve already started. But you’ve done so much acting all on your own… I don’t know how you can cope with having so much weight over your shoulders, Thomas.

THOMAS: I’m surrounded by a good team of incredibly amazing friends and incredibly talented people, you can be certain that helps.

JOAN: I’ll take my share of that compliment, thank you.

THOMAS: Oh, where’s the trailer voice guy?

[They realize the Trailer Voice guy left while they were speaking and is nowhere to be seen]

THOMAS: Okay, never mind. Let’s just keep going.

VIRGIL: Roman…

ROMAN: Yes, sweetheart?

VIRGIL: Firstly, don’t call me like that until we’re alone. And secondly, what’s that shadowy hill that can be seen in the distance?

ROMAN: That’s beyond our borders, we must never go there, Simba… I mean, Virgil.

THOMAS: Why?

ROMAN: Well, that area is where your impression characters live. You know, Stewie Griffin, Kermit the Frog, Stitch, Goofy… It’s also home of the characters you portrayed on-stage, like J.D., Prospero, Javert, Don Lockwood, Ko-Ko, Leo Bloom, and so many others. We don’t hold the copyright of these characters, so it would be tricky if they appeared on this video…

LOGAN: Talk about meta…

THOMAS: But… isn’t Sandersia the place of my own creations? Why are these characters here if I didn’t create them?

ROMAN: Thomas, don’t underestimate an actor’s labor. Do you think that a character is created solely on what a writer has written? That’s a solid base, but it’s just the beginning. The director with his vision of the character, and the actor with his work of bringing life into it, adapting himself to the character, but also adapting the character to his own range and needs… that’s also a part of the creative process of a character. So you have been a part of the creation of these characters, at least of your versions of the characters. It’s only natural that they live here.

THOMAS: Okay… [sighs] It’s a pity I won’t get to see Taylor’s Herbert. That would have been great… But you’re right, Roman, we don’t want a copyright strike. Let’s go.

[they keep walking, and after a while, they get in front of a house that looks quite familiar to Thomas]

THOMAS: But… that’s my house!

ROMAN: No, it isn’t, Thomas. Look carefully, and you too, Patton.

PATTON: Me?

[they all sneak on a window, they see that the Dad Guy, Mom and the children are there inside having lunch]

PATTON: But… that’s me!

ROMAN: No, Patton, that’s the Dad Guy. A character that appears on the Vines. Like the Prince Guy and the Teacher Guy. People think that we were inspired on them… but in fact it’s them who were inspired on us. Thomas has known us for all of his life and he used our likenesses to design these characters. [to the camera, breaking the fourth wall] You didn’t see that one coming, did you?

LOGAN: Well, Thomas, perhaps we should start sharing a piece of the shorts’ royalties, shouldn’t we?

THOMAS: I mean, the Vines don’t give much, since they’re defunct, but anyway, you all are me, so in a way we’re already sharing royalties, aren’t we?

PATTON: Oh, I love that scene. A beautiful family all gathered around the table, telling dad jokes… Oh, I wish I had a family like that…

ROMAN: Patton, aren’t we family already?

PATTON: Of course we are, kiddo. But I mean with a partner and children of my own to raise. I’ve always called myself a dad… but I have the feeling that it’s only a nickname Thomas placed on me. The truth is I have no recollection of my children or the supposed couple that gave birth to them or adopted them with me, whatever. I called myself a dad just by inertia, and I tried to live up to that name being a dad for you all guys. However I’ve started doubting lately if I’m really a father at all and I should just back up a little bit and just be more grounded.

VIRGIL: Wanna know a secret?

PATTON: What is it, kiddo?

VIRGIL: I… am your son.

PATTON: [little bittersweet smile] Thank you, kiddo. It fills me with joy that you would consider yourself as such, and I’ve always considered you as such myself, but at the end of the day I always remember we’re just best friends…

VIRGIL: I’m not just being kind… dad. I really mean it. Think about it. When I was a Dark Side, I was mainly anxiety, and anxiety is a feeling. And who’s the one that gives “birth” to feelings in this house? It’s you. So, technically, you are my real father.

PATTON: But that can’t be, kiddo. You appeared in Thomas’ life way before I did.

VIRGIL: So did Roman, and I was in the Mind Palace way before him, I only took more time to rise up before Thomas. The same happened to you. Feelings are the first thing that a human has when they’re born, they’re nothing but an 8 pound ball of feelings…

LOGAN: [disgusted retching] Huurl… [after Honesty frowns at him] Excuse me.

PATTON: Then… you are my son… for real? [tearing up] Why didn’t you tell me earlier?

VIRGIL: Because I wasn’t sure yet. After all, I was a Dark Side and you were a Light Side, so it didn’t make sense that I was your son… But now that we’ve discovered that in origin I was a Light Side… Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle started fitting in… just like you said in the puzzle song.

PATTON: I wish I would have been there to take care of you all of your life, to rise you as my son. Oh, all you’ve been through in the Dark Realm without me to take care of you and defend you… I’m so, so sorry, Virgil. I wasn’t there when you needed me…

VIRGIL: You have nothing to be sorry about. Ever since we finally met, you have put yourself into your father role, even when you didn’t know the truth. And even when I tried to resist it, there was always… how to describe it… this sort of “pulling sensation” inside of me that made me want to be closer to you, that made me feel better when I was with you more than with anyone else. I guess you were bound to take care of me, and I was bound to love you, dad, ever since the first time we met.

[Virgil hugs Patton and Patton squeezes his son]

PATTON: I love you, my emo son.

VIRGIL: And I love you too, my wonderful dad.

JOAN: This emotional moment just came out of nowhere… [cleaning a tear from their eye] Warn a dude next time, for f… [bleep] …k‘s sake!

ROMAN: Well, be warned then, Joan, because here comes another round of tears… [to Patton] If you’re really his father, Patton… then I must take this time to ask you and Virgil something.

PATTON: What is it kiddo?

VIRGIL: Roman?

ROMAN: Patton, would you… give me your son’s hand?

VIRGIL: [in shock] What?

ROMAN: And Virgil… [taking a little box out of his pocket and kneeling before Virgil, who covers his mouth in shock] … I know you don’t like weddings, but… [opening the box and revealing a golden ring with a shiny purple amethyst on it] it would make me the happiest aspect on the Mind Palace if you would marry me.

VIRGIL: [overwhelmed, unable to react] I… I…

THOMAS: Oh, my gosh…

PATTON: Answering your question, Roman, whatever Virgil decides, I will support it no matter what, but if it was up to me, of course I’d give you his hand. I couldn’t think of a better son in law for me. But it’s Virgil’s choice and only his.

ROMAN: Virgil?

VIRGIL: I mean… you know I don’t like weddings, at all…

ROMAN: [showing a little dejected face] I understand…

VIRGIL: …but I certainly want to spend the rest of my life with you as my husband. If there’s no choice other than going through a wedding to achieve that, I’ll willingly take the sacrifice. Of course I’ll marry you.

[Roman shows a face of endless happiness. Then puts the ring on Virgil’s finger and kisses him, then they hug each other. Deceit looks at the scene from the back, showing a smile as if he didn’t care but with a single sad tear sticking out of his human eye. Honesty and Wrath stand next to Deceit, discreetly put their hands on his shoulders and give him a friendly smile. Deceit gives a grateful but bittersweet smile back at them and doesn’t say a word. While hugging Roman, Virgil notices this exchange, but says nothing]

THOMAS: [happy yelling] Congratulations, guys!

DAD GUY: [from the window] Yes, congratulations, your Highness!

ROMAN: Oh, I’m sorry, Dad Guy, we didn’t want to bother you.

DAD GUY: It’s okay, it was like watching a good romantic movie right on our window, I won’t complain. Oh, you must be Patton!

PATTON: You know me?

DAD GUY: Of course I do. I was created on your image. But don’t stay out there, I know you’re cool but that doesn’t mean you must catch a cold to prove it.

THOMAS: Oh, we wouldn’t want to bother you. Besides, we need to keep going on our way.

DAD GUY: Oh, okay. If you say so. Enjoy your visit through Sandersia, Thomas.

THOMAS: Thank you, Dad Guy. It was nice meeting you.

PATTON: I have to come back here some day, we could share some dad jokes when we have the time.

DAD GUY: I’ll be waiting. Bye, kiddos!

[Thomas and the others get going. After some time, they get in front of what looks like a school]

THOMAS: I have the feeling I know who we can find in here. Don’t you, Logan?

LOGAN: I think I know who you’re referring to, Thomas. If it’s him, I can’t wait. He wears a necktie like I do, so he must be the most serious, level-headed individual you could ever mee…

[the Teacher Guy passes by in front of them, running. He’s carrying some balloons in his hand, laughing uncontrollably, while some students follow him running too]

LOGAN: [in shock] I mean… what? [nervously] Oh, well, I’m sure he’s using these balloons to explain some laws of physics, maybe the properties of helium gas. It has to be that. It has…

TEACHER GUY: [still running] I said I don’t wanna go to school!

STUDENT: [running behind him, trying to catch him] But you must! You are our teacher! Moreover, you’re the principal! And we need to know our exam results! Come back heere!

[Virgil looks at Logan’s face of shock and chortles]

LOGAN: [in frustration] Okay, I have seen enough of this…

THOMAS: I had forgotten how much different the Teacher Guy was from you, Logan…

LOGAN: Well, as far as I’m concerned, Thomas, you can forget that… tie-traitor again.

PATTON: Well, I like him.

THOMAS: Don’t get mad, Logan.

[a person approaches them. He looks at the Teacher Guy, still running in the distance, balloons in hand]

PERSON: What a freak…

THOMAS: Excuse me?

PERSON: [yelling] ...iiiing amazing bunch of balloons that charming fellow is carrying over there! [giggles] Colorful!

[then the person leaves running]

THOMAS: I think it was the Misleading Compliment’s Guy, wasn’t it?

VIRGIL: Yes, I think so.

THOMAS: Okay, let’s go, there’s still so much to see.

[the gang keeps on walking. After some time, they reach an office building]

THOMAS: Oh, my goodness… Joan, look at the sign at the door.

JOAN: [reading] Dr. Emile Picani, therapist. [gasps] Whoa! That’s amazing!

THOMAS: Should we come in?

JOAN: We don’t have an appointment, Thomas. It may be rude…

[the door opens. Elliott comes out of it, they almost trip on Joan]

ELLIOTT: I’m sorry…

JOAN: I’m sorry too…

ELLIOTT: Are you waiting to come in?

JOAN: Oh, we don’t have an appointment.

ELLIOTT: That’s okay. Dr. Picani has some free time, my session today has been shorter than expected.

JOAN: Really?

THOMAS: I hope it’s not for anything bad…

ELLIOTT: No, it isn’t. Today my sister is moving to college. I had an appointment set beforehand, so I just came in to warn Dr. Picani. We did an express session and that’s all. If you want to see him, you can right now, before his next patient.

JOAN: Okay, thank you. I think we will.

ELLIOTT: You two make a cute couple.

THOMAS: Oh, we’re… we’re not dating, we’re just friends.

ELLIOTT: [shrugs] Okay. I think Dr. Picani could also be efficient in solving issues between friends. Now, if you excuse me, I must go, or I’ll be late to my sister’s farewell. I hope we meet again, bye!

JOAN: That was weird… it felt as if I was talking to myself…

THOMAS: Tell me about it… Okay, we’re too many to enter the little office, how do we do this?

ROMAN: If you want, Thomas, we can get inside of you while you’re there.

THOMAS: I you want to, It’d be great.

ROMAN: Okay, we’ll be watching, Thomas.

[they all sink down]

THOMAS: Okay, let’s get in.

[Thomas and Joan enter the office. There’s a secretary in the reception]

SECRETARY: Do you have an appointment?

THOMAS: Well, as a matter of fact, we don’t, Elliott had told us that Dr. Picani had some free time and…

PICANI: [from the therapy room] It’s okay, Quill, let them in.

SECRETARY: Okay. Could you give me your names for the register?

THOMAS: Sure, I’m Thomas Sanders.

JOAN: And I’m Joan S.

SECRETARY: Very well, you can come in, it’s that door over there. You won’t get lost.

THOMAS: Thank you.

[Thomas and Joan cross the door and they find themselves in Picani’s office. Picani is there, smiling at them]

PICANI: New patients. Do you how do? Sit down, please.

THOMAS: Good afternoon, doctor.

JOAN: Hi.

[Thomas and Joan sit down]

PICANI: I couldn’t help but hear you from my window. You know Elliott, right?

JOAN: Oh, yes. You could say we’re almost like family.

PICANI: Yes, I see the resemblance… Is this your first time in therapy?

THOMAS: Well, not for me, I had to go to some therapy after a rough break-up I had a couple of years ago.

JOAN: For me, it’s the first time.

PICANI: And how would you describe the relationship between you two?

THOMAS: Oh, we’re just friends of many years, we’re not dating or anything. We also work together.

PICANI: I see… Are you currently in a relationship?

THOMAS: Not me. I’ve been single since the break-up.

JOAN: I am, with my partner Talyn.

PICANI: Oh, and it’s a happy relation?

JOAN: Yes, certainly. It’s them, their kittens their pet-rat and me.

PICANI: Aww! Just like Cinderella had their mice before she met her prince charming…

JOAN: Yes, you could say so…

PICANI: We don’t have much time, and Joan seems to be doing okay, so I wanna concentrate in you Thomas. How would you describe the outcome of your relationship.

THOMAS: Well, it was hard. It’s not easy to give up to your first love, you know?

PICANI: Was it a source of anxiety?

[Suddenly, Thomas is replaced on the seat by Virgil, it seems that only Joan notices the change, Picani doesn’t sport any reaction]

VIRGIL: Yes, it certainly was. Both in the time before and after the end of the relation, angst was pretty the norm in my life.

JOAN: … Virgil?

PICANI: I see. It seems that you loved this person, right?

[now it’s Patton who sits in the couch]

PATTON: Yes, all of my heart was devoted to him. That was the hardest part, allowing my heart to let him go. It took time, but I finally did it.

JOAN: …and Patton?

PICANI: And what do you hope to get from life in the love department, Thomas?

[Roman appears in the couch]

ROMAN: Oh, I’m still a sucker for romance, you know. At first I thought I would never get to experiment that feeling again, but little by little I have recovered the hope that there’s someone for me and that I will find him someday, when I least expect it. And if that doesn’t happen, it’s okay. I’m also lucky today to say that I love myself, and that’s enough.

JOAN: What is going on here?

PICANI: Do you have any plans for your future?

[Logan appears on the couch]

LOGAN: Of course I do. I mean, no one can plan his future in the long term, but I have some things planned for me in the short term, like trying to do bigger steps in my career, making sure that I have a proper, healthy lifestyle, et cetera.

JOAN: Okay, will anybody tell me what’s happening here?

[Thomas reappears on the couch]

THOMAS: What’s the matter, Joan? Are you okay?

JOAN: You tell me. Your Sides have been appearing in your place all of the time.

THOMAS: Have they? I didn’t even notice.

PICANI: I did, but I assumed it was some eccentricity of you, non Sandersians.

THOMAS: I guess I was projecting them while I was speaking with Dr. Picani. It may have something to do with being in this land. It’s okay, Joan.

JOAN: If you say so…

PICANI: Okay. Time is running out. My next patient will be here in just a few minutes. Since this hasn’t been a full session where we didn’t have really much time to discuss any real issues, and you are friends of Elliott’s, you don’t owe me anything. Elliott has payed for the full session already, so it’s okay.

THOMAS: Oh, thank you, Dr. Picani.

PICANI: But I hope to know about you in the future.

[Thomas and Joan rise up]

THOMAS: Yes, I hope so too, Doctor. Goodbye.

JOAN: Goodbye, Doctor.

PICANI: Goodbye, patients.

[Thomas and Joan get out of the building. The Sides rise up or appear around them]

THOMAS: Well, that was refreshing.

JOAN: It was.

ROMAN: And you were right, Thomas, it doesn’t make sense to place eyeshadow and purple garments on Dr. Picani. I’ll scrap that when we get back home.

THOMAS: I’m glad you understand, Roman…

[suddenly, an army of Thomases, all dressed with the Steven Universe star shirt, comes out of nowhere and surrounds the gang]

THOMAS: [a little afraid] What’s the meaning of this?

VIRGIL: [concerned] We’re surrounded, there’s no possible escape route.

[one of them approaches them]

GUARD: At last we found thou, your Highness.

ROMAN: [concerned] Oh, no…

THOMAS: What is going on, Roman? Who are these?

ROMAN: These are all the different Thomas characters you have played in your Vines and shorts. They work in the Royal Palace, doing chores, being our entourage in protocol expeditions, being our guards, like the ones here…

GUARD: Thou must come with us, your Highness. Thy father has been looking for you everywhere. Thou shouldn’t have just disappeared like that.

ROMAN: I’m the prince of this land! I decide when I disappear and for how long! Now I command you to let me go!

GUARD: I’d wish to follow your command, your Highness, but alas, our orders come from the King, your father, themselves. Thou must come with us right now.

ROMAN: But…

GUARD: Please, your Highness, don’t make a scene. Do not resist us. We’d hate to use violence, but we’ll do to enforce your Majesty’s command if we must. Ye are surrounded and outnumbered, thou know thou have no choice.

ROMAN: [sighs] Okay… If there’s no choice, I’ll go with you… But my friends will come with me as my own personnel, they’ll stay with me all the time.

GUARD: Do as it pleases thyself, as long as thou come with us.

ROMAN: Let’s go then. Let’s get over with this already.

[they start walking, they talk to each other in low voice trying not to be heard by the guards surrounding them]

ROMAN: I’m so sorry, you guys. I didn’t expect that they would find us so easily. I thought if we stayed away from the Royal Palace, we’d be safe, but I guess I was wrong. My father must have eyes and ears everywhere.

LOGAN: Ew… That’s gross…

DECEIT: It’s a metaphor, Logan.

VIRGIL: But I don’t understand, Roman. What’s going on?

ROMAN: You see… when I first appeared in front of Thomas the first time, I told him that some day I’d be a prince, remember Thomas?

THOMAS: How could I forget?

ROMAN: I am Creativity, and I had the power of making anything that Thomas imagined through me come true in the Mind Palace. So I wished hard for me to become a real Prince… and it worked. One day I woke up in a royal bedroom, and I was Prince Roman, Heir of the Kingdom of Sandersia. Everything I created as Thomas’ creativity, made Sandersia bigger and more prosperous. I also had a royal family of my own, with a King that ruled the Kingdom, which was my royal father. I lived with him so many years, I got fully immersed into the story I created for myself, and became his son for real. He raised me, after all, so he was my father in all the sense of the word. But then, the problems arose.

THOMAS: Problems?

ROMAN: Well, it was in a time when you, Thomas, got really afraid and uncomfortable with your own sexuality, and that fear was a big influence on all of us. I didn’t escape that influence as, suddenly, my father, the King, started demanding me to marry a princess to secure a lineage. I was horrified. I told him that I was gay, and that I would never marry a woman, princess or not, but that only infuriated him. He just locked me in my bedroom, forbid me to get out of the kingdom, so I couldn’t see you, Thomas, and started looking for eligible maidens all over the land to choose one himself and force me to marry her.

VIRGIL: Oh, yes, you mentioned that, but not with so much detail.

ROMAN: So, in the end, one night, when everybody was sleeping, I grabbed my sword and ran away to my room in the Mind Palace. I created a barrier between my room and Sandersia so that they could never know where I was, and so that no one could get in or out without my authorization. And I stayed in my room from then on, never returning until today. I even removed the shields from my royal uniform out of fear of being uncovered… then I realized that was impossible as long as I didn’t return, so I brought them back when I updated my outfit. I should have taken them off before coming back. No wonder everyone recognized me as Your Highness…

THOMAS: But you’re Creativity. You literally created them all. You could as easily modify them or make them disappear, why so much fear?

ROMAN: I can’t, Thomas! They’re my family. I literally grew up with them. I’m too attached to them, it would kill me to do that. I would never do that. I want them to keep on existing, just the way they are, and if they change, I want them to change on their own free will, because they’ve listened to reason, not just because I forced them to do so. I may dress in white, but I’m not White Diamond, you know?

THOMAS: I see. But if you knew this could happen, why did you take such a foolish risk and return to Sandersia? We would have never put you in such a danger just for some… fun trip.

ROMAN: I always felt incomplete, Thomas. What’s a prince without a kingdom? I’ve always missed Sandersia, and I had hoped that they would have forgotten about me after all these years, especially since now you are more than comfortable with being gay… I guess I was wrong. Now they’ll force me to go back to the Royal Castle permanently… maybe even carry on with their plans and make me marry a princess of their choice… [looks at Virgil with an angsty face] I don’t want to do that! I love you, Virgil, I just want to be with you and no one else!

VIRGIL: [holding Roman’s hand, with determined voice] If that’s so, I won’t let them force you into doing something you don’t wanna do! We’ll try to convince them to understand, and if they don’t listen, we’ll make them listen! I won’t let them take you away from me! Jeez… love can really change people down to the core. I never thought these kind of determined words would ever be coming out from my mouth. That’s the effect you’ve had on me, Roman, and I’m not giving you up!

ROMAN: [with a sad smile] I love you, so much…

THOMAS: And we’ll help in any way we can. It’s not fair that for some… stupid law, they force you to be in an unhappy relationship for the rest of your life. We’ll think of something.

GUARD: Okay, we’ve arrived.

ROMAN: [with a painful, sarcastic, voice] Oh… good…

[the gang looks at the castle that lies in front of them. It’s huge, in white color with red roofs, and with Roman’s shield above the front door. The door opens and they enter a huge corridor with another door at the end of it. When the front door slams behind them, all the guards except the main guard leave them to guard the door and the gang walks to the end door]

GUARD: Wait here till I announce thou.

ROMAN: Yes, I know how this works, I used to live here, remember? Don’t teach me any lessons and go ahead already.

GUARD: You must know that I sympathize with you, your Highness. I do not like at all having to do this, but it’s the king. I must obey. I wish you the best of luck.

ROMAN: Yes, yes, whatever…

[the guard opens the door and closes it behind him, while the gang stays outside]

ROMAN: I’m scared, you guys…

VIRGIL: Who wouldn’t be?

ROMAN: I mean, who knows what my father’s going to do to me? The more I think of it, the more scared I get… I wish we could be back in the living room right now…

THOMAS: And why don’t we? Let’s just teleport back, like when we get in and out of the rooms.

ROMAN: We can’t teleport out of Sandersia, Thomas. Remember that I placed a barrier at the door. No one can get in or out of Sandersia unless they cross that door. We’d need to get physically across the door to my room first to be able to get back to the living room, but it’s too far away… and we’re trapped in this castle with no escape. And I’m not wiping out anything or anyone, before you make the suggestion. No innocent Sandersian will be erased in any plan we conceive.

THOMAS: It’s okay. We’ll think of something else. In the meantime, don’t be afraid. We won’t let anything bad happen to you.

PATTON: If the king treats you bad, I’m ready to physically fight all the minions he tries to throw upon us to defend you. It would be the first time I’d have to do it for real, but I don’t care. I’ve got a future son in law to protect.

ROMAN: Thank you, Patton. Thank you guys…

[the door starts opening]

ROMAN: [swallows saliva and shows a scared face] Oh, no… [takes a deep breath and masks his fear with his usual regal bearing] Okay… dignity. I’m still Prince Roman. I’ll stand my ground. I won’t give in.

[once the door is fully opened, the guard yells from inside]

GUARD: Prince Roman Graham Alexander McDonald Carlos Sanders III, Prince and Heir of the Kingdom of Sandersia!

[Roman starts walking and the others walk a few steps behind. He shows his regal bearing, and he would have fooled everyone into thinking he was confident, if it wasn’t for how much his hands were shaking. After a few steps, Roman looks at the throne room. To the surprise of everyone, at the throne there sits the Prince Guy]

ROMAN: What? You?

PRINCE GUY: Glad to see you again… brother.

THOMAS: What the… Brother? The Prince Guy is your brother?

ROMAN: Where is dad? [to the guard] You said that my father gave you the orders.

PRINCE GUY: I commanded him to tell you that, Roman. You wouldn’t have listened otherwise.

ROMAN: [sarcastic] And of course, the fact that you sent a whole army to get me wasn’t a stronger way of convincing me, I guess…

PRINCE GUY: You never know…

ROMAN: You still didn’t answer my question. Where is dad?

PRINCE GUY: Roman, our father… died seven years ago.

ROMAN: [in shock] He… died?

PRINCE GUY: When you left, he went really angry. He searched Sandersia for you far and wide. But you were nowhere to be seen. After a couple of years of search, he stopped looking for you.

ROMAN: Because he gave up on me?

PRINCE GUY: Because he went ill, Roman. When he saw that his end was nearing, he realized how bad he had been with you. In the end, I confessed…

ROMAN: You confessed? What did you have to confess?

PRINCE GUY: …that I had been covering your escape.

ROMAN: [in shock] You… what? I didn’t know…

PRINCE GUY: I had always known where you were hiding. That night, when dad was so harsh on you, when he called you all those horrible things… I went to your bedroom to try to comfort and support you. And I saw you sneaking out of the castle and running away. I followed you up to that door in the tree where you placed the barrier.

ROMAN: I never noticed anyone following me… And why didn’t you give me away?

PRINCE GUY: How could I do that? You are my big brother and I love you. I've always looked up to you as an example for your courage and gentleness, and for your strong will that wouldn't let anyone stand in your way to your dreams and happiness, and I admired how sometimes you would be bent by dad’s words, but never broken. I knew dad was wrong and I wanted to make sure that you were happy, even if that meant I would never see you again, and even knowing how much I was gonna miss you. In his last moments, dad understood it too. He wrote you a letter, that I was to give you. But I couldn’t cross the barrier, so I couldn’t deliver it. I tried to knock sometimes, with no luck.

ROMAN: Oh… I remember someone knocking at the door years ago… But I didn’t open out of fear of getting caught. If I had known…

PRINCE GUY: It’s okay, I understood that at the time, and I just resigned to wait until the day you decided to come back. And I left… Sun and Moon guarding the door day and night to warn me when you decided to show your face here again.

ROMAN: So it was these two who gave me away. And they looked so innocent…

PRINCE GUY: Don’t be mad at them. I’m glad that they gave you away, brother. Otherwise, I couldn’t have given you this. [takes a golden envelope from a pocket in his suit, gets up from the throne and approaches Roman to give it to him] These are dad’s last words for you. Here you are.

[Roman opens the letter and starts reading the also golden paper inside. After a few moments, he bursts in tears]

THOMAS: Don’t keep us in suspense, Roman, read it to us too! If it’s not too personal, of course.

ROMAN: [sobbing] Oh, sorry… it’s not. But I fear I’ll get choked up if I read it out-loud…

PRINCE GUY: I already know the content, as I wrote it myself on his dictation, because he was too weak to hold a quill, but, as you can see, he stamped his royal insignia so that you knew I didn’t write it myself. I’ll read it if you want.

ROMAN: [giving him the letter, still sobbing] Yes, please…

PRINCE GUY: [reading] My dear son Roman… I don’t know how to start these lines. How does a father start apologizing to his son when he thinks what he’s done is unforgivable? Some things I think of come out as fake, others come out as weak. I guess I’ll just have to allow myself to be myself, and start with the most simple, yet most difficult word to say: “Sorry”. I regret so much everything I made you go through. I have paid the price of my wrongdoings, because I lost you. Now I know I’ll never see you again in this world. I’ll pay the price and think it was worthy if at least you managed to find happiness away from me, wherever you are, and with whomever you choose, whether it’s a woman, or a man, or anything in between, I don’t care anymore, as long as they’re a good person who loves you as much as you deserve, as much as I failed to do in the end. I hope that when you read these lines, you can find it in your heart to forgive this stupid old man that is on the verge of leaving this world. That wouldn’t change what I’ve done, but at least it would give me peace.

[Virgil gets closer to Roman and holds his hand. They look at each other and tears start running from both their eyes, while the Prince Guy keeps on reading]

PRINCE GUY: There’s a problem on what we must do with the throne after my departure now that you’re gone, though. Even though your brother would also be a good king, I still think that you’re the best ruler this kingdom could have. Your brother agrees with me on that as he doesn’t want the crown. So, for the time being, until you make a choice, I have decided to make your brother the regent of the Kingdom of Sandersia, and he will govern in your name while you’re absent. In the case you decide to return, he’ll immediately resign in your favor and you’ll take your place as King of Sandersia. It’s up to you what you decide to do with the crown afterwards. I know that, whatever you do, you’ll make the right choice. You were educated in wisdom and intelligence, and you developed the most creative mind because of that. At least in that, I think I wasn’t so bad.

[the Prince Guy makes a short pause, then proceeds to read the final part of the letter]

PRINCE GUY: It’s time for me to end these lines now, as my strength is starting to fail me and my vision is getting blurry. I don’t think I’ll last much longer. Goodbye, my dear son. I hope that my love reaches you and guides you for the rest of your life. I’ll always be with you if you look into your heart. I love you, my son. Even if I failed to show it properly, I have always loved you. Farewell.

[the Prince Guy gives the paper back to Roman]

PRINCE GUY: And then he signs with his name and his royal stamp. Dad wrote another document proclaiming this last part, which was read in his funeral. You were proclaimed back then as the new king, so there’s no need for any more formalisms. Welcome back home, King Roman Graham Alexander McDonald Carlos Sanders III, ruler of the Kingdom of Sandersia.

ROMAN: I… I didn’t expect this. So I’m… the king?

[another guard brings the Prince Guy the royal crown]

PRINCE GUY: Yes, your Majesty. [placing the crown on Roman’s head] The throne is all yours.

THOMAS: [emotional] Oh, my goodness… Congratulations Ro… I mean, Your Majesty!

VIRGIL: I’m so proud of you…

[the rest of the Sides and Joan start cheering and applauding, even Logan gets a little carried away]

PRINCE GUY: Now, I think it’s your turn to speak. Say whatever’s in your heart, Your Majesty.

ROMAN: I… I don’t know what to say… Yes I do. I hereby announce that you, my brother, will keep on being the regent of Sandersia.

PRINCE GUY: [surprised] What? But I…

ROMAN: My wish was to be a prince, and if I’m crowned as king, that means I’m no longer a prince. I’m not giving up my nickname Princey. Kingy just sounds… weird, and I don’t even know how to spell it.

THOMAS: But the purpose of a prince is to become a king. Isn’t it?

ROMAN: Don’t get me wrong, Thomas, I’m not giving up the crown. But I just had an idea. I don’t have to stop being a prince if I do a little tweak to Sandersia’s Constitution, and as a king I have the power to do that… From this day on, I proclaim that the Kingdom of Sandersia becomes the Principality of Sandersia, and I remain being Prince Roman… and the rest of the names, ruler of Sandersia.

PRINCE GUY: But why do you want me to keep on being the regent? You’re back, the crown is yours. Being a king or a prince is irrelevant to that.

ROMAN: You have been here, governing the kingdom in my absence all this time. And look how well you’re doing it. I’m so proud of you. Besides, I still have work to do somewhere else, brother. I’m still Thomas’ Creativity. I can’t properly rule a country and fulfill my creative duties at the same time. That’s why I want you, brother, to help me. Be my eyes and ears in the throne. Also, I know that, unlike me, you’re capable of having descent in wedlock, because you like both men and women, I’ve seen it in Thomas’ Vines and shorts. So you won’t have the trouble that I have to find someone with whom bringing a new heir to Sandersia. When the moment comes, I’ll abdicate my crown into your son, or daughter, and they will be the next ruler. That if you choose a woman as your wife, of course. If you decided to be with a man, or decided not to be with anyone at all, we’d find a solution.

PRINCE GUY: I don’t know, it’s too much to assimilate all of a sudden… Are you sure, Roman?

ROMAN: I have never been more sure of anything in my life.

PRINCE GUY: Then… it shall be as you commanded. I’ll try to keep on making you proud, your Majesty… I mean, your Highness.

ROMAN: And please, call me Roman, we’re family after all, aren’t we?

[the two brothers share a hug]

JOAN: So many things have happened in so little time… I think I’ll just give up on keeping up and get carried away with it. I’ll think about it tomorrow.

ROMAN: Now, I want to introduce you to someone, brother. Virgil?

VIRGIL: Yes?

ROMAN: This is Virgil. He’s my fiancee, I asked him to marry me just today, and he said yes.

PRINCE GUY: I’m honored to know you, Virgil.

VIRGIL: The honor is all mine.

PRINCE GUY: It would be my biggest pleasure if you decided to celebrate your wedding here, in the Royal Palace. I wouldn’t want to miss it.

ROMAN: Oh, it would be great. What do you think, Virgil? Oh, I know you don’t like pomposity on weddings…

VIRGIL: It’s okay, Roman. When I decided to be with a prince, I accepted everything that comes with it.

ROMAN: But you don’t have to do anything that bothers you just to please me, Virgil. You have equal weight in our relationship and your word must be heard as much as mine.

VIRGIL: Thank you, Roman. I promise to tell you everything I can think of for the wedding, when I come out with something.

ROMAN: That’s better. Now, brother, we must go. I’ll tell you in advance when we’re ready to start preparing the wedding.

PRINCE GUY: I’ll be waiting, brother. Please, don’t take another seven years to come back.

ROMAN: I promise. And I’ll keep contact, even if by letter.

PRINCE GUY: I have a cell phone, you know? Sandersia is not so out of the world.

ROMAN: That’s great, here’s my number… so call me maybe?

PRINCE GUY: You bet I will.

ROMAN: Well, it’s gonna be a long way back…

PRINCE GUY: Why walking? You have the royal carriage at your disposal. It’s big enough for you and your personnel, and it will take you there in no time. It’s already waiting at the door.

ROMAN: Thank you, brother. I was so afraid when I entered the castle, and I’m leaving it so happy and fulfilled.

PRINCE GUY: Glad to hear that. Have a nice trip back home, all of you.

THOMAS: It was an honor to meet you. Goodbye.

ROMAN: Goodbye, brother, until we meet again.

[the gang leaves the room and jumps into the royal carriage. The Prince Guy was right, because they have little time to react and they’re already at the door to Roman’s room]

THOMAS: Wow! Thank God they don’t put speed tickets here in Sandersia. Your brother was right when he said we would be here in no time…

ROMAN: Yeah... [looking off-screen at Patton in the car] Watch out, Patton! Don’t throw up in the car, the upholstery is made of...! [off-screen sound of puking, Roman cringes] ...cashmere...

THOMAS: Roman...

ROMAN: Yes, Thomas?

THOMAS: Why is there so much trouble with your offspring? Aren’t you going to marry Virgil? Technically if you two adopted, it would be a child of your own in wedlock. Even if you decided to surrogate, Virgil could adopt him.

ROMAN: I know. It’s absurd, but it’s the protocol. The heir of the Kingdom... or Principality now, must be the biological son or daughter of both the ruler and their legitimate married partner.

THOMAS: Then, change the protocol! Aren’t you the king, I mean, the prince of this land?

ROMAN: It’s not that easy. Laws can be changed, but protocols are written in stone. It takes much more time to implement changes and to make them be accepted. Why do you think so much royalty people feels miserable, despite being rich, famous and powerful? It’s the price to pay for our position, unfortunately... Well, let’s get back home.

[they cross the door and get back to Roman’s room]

ROMAN: Home, sweet home.

VIRGIL: It’s good to be back. For a moment, I thought we’d never return.

THOMAS: Okay, it’s time to get back to the living room. Are you coming, guys?

ROMAN: Um, no, I’m tired, Thomas, so if you excuse me, I’m staying here.

THOMAS: Okay. What about you, Virgil?

VIRGIL: I’m staying here for a while too. We need to have a conversation about the wedding, after all.

THOMAS: [smiling] As you wish guys. Okay, let’s go. Bye, guys.

ROMAN: Bye, Thomas, bye guys.

[Thomas, Joan and the Sides sink down, then they rise up in the living room]

JOAN: What a cool adventure… Seeing all our characters alive in front of our eyes… I think it’s the best experience a creator could ever have.

THOMAS: You’re right…

PATTON: Well, kiddos. We’ve been out for so long that the dough I made for the cookies must have got rotten, so I’ll start over.

WRATH: Do you need some help, Patton? I’d love to make cookies with you.

HONESTY: Me too. I can bring the tea I was preparing earlier.

PATTON: As you wish, kiddos.

[Patton, Wrath and Honesty sink down]

LOGAN: I’m also going to my room. I need to start writing down the plans I mentioned to Dr. Picani earlier. [sinks down] See you later, Thomas.

THOMAS: Don’t work too hard, Logan.

DECEIT: I must go too, Thomas. It was great being in a world so delusional, but even the deceitful ones like me need some time to put their feet on the ground. [sinks down] Bye.

THOMAS: Bye, Deceit. Well, Joan, what do you think of this?

JOAN: It was enlightening, an experience I will never forget.

THOMAS: Yeah, me too. [to the camera] And I hope that anything you out there have seen has been useful for you too. Until next time, take it easy, guys, gals and non binary pals. Peace out!

[end card]

[Deceit is in his room in the Light Realm, reading a book about optical illusions]

DECEIT: Who would have thought. Even nature is a liar sometimes…

[Virgil rises up]

DECEIT: Oh, hi, Virgil. I thought you were staying with Roman discussing the preparations for your wedding.

VIRGIL: I had that planned. But something got me worrying all along, and didn’t let me focus, so I left early.

DECEIT: What is it?

VIRGIL: Are you all right, Deceit?

DECEIT: What do you mean I’m all right? I’m happy as can be.

VIRGIL: Cool. Because, earlier, when Roman proposed to me… I couldn’t help but notice your face.

DECEIT: My face? What face?

VIRGIL: Your face of sorrow.

DECEIT: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

VIRGIL: And I’m sure Honesty and Wrath know something too, they tried to be discreet, but I saw them comforting you.

DECEIT: Look, it’s normal that a wedding can be stressful, but don’t you think it’s too early to start imagining things?

VIRGIL: Lately, you only lie when you get nervous. So I think I’m hitting close home.

DECEIT: Listen, I…

VIRGIL: Listen, Deceit. We’ve been through a lot, both good and bad. There were times when we were closer, other times when we couldn’t stand each other. Now that we’ve regained our friendship back, I don’t want to be unable to know if I can trust you or not again. Please share your feelings with me.

DECEIT: Believe me, Virgil. There’s no use in me sharing my feelings with you. That would only blurry the happiness you’re living in right now, and I don’t wanna do that.

VIRGIL: There’s only one reason you could be so secretive with me, but not with Honesty and Wrath. Do you… have any feelings towards me, Deceit?

DECEIT: [nervously] No, I don’t!

VIRGIL: Got it… Listen, Deceit. I love you, but not in the way you’d wish.

DECEIT: [sighs] I know… That’s why I didn’t want you to know my feelings ever.

VIRGIL: I will always be your friend, and I hope you never stop being my friend. But please, try to…

DECEIT: I wish it was so easy, Virgil. But you said it yourself. We’ve been through a lot. We’ve known each other for so long, and I’ve been in love with you for so long. Even in the moments when we were enemies, I still loved you, but I covered that feeling with my lies. I don’t know how I can expel from myself this feeling so rooted in my heart, without tearing my heart itself apart.

VIRGIL: You must try. I love Roman.

DECEIT: I know. And I hope you live happily ever after with him, Virgil.

VIRGIL: It’s painful to see you so dejected, Deceit. I wish you could feel otherwise…

DECEIT: See why I didn’t want to share my feelings with you? What has been the use, other than bringing clouds into your happiness? Now, please, I want to be alone.

VIRGIL: [sad voice] As you wish.

[Virgil sinks down]

DECEIT: [sighs, with a trembling voice of pain] It’s all falling apart… I must go back to the Dark Realm and never return. No one would miss this stupid liar anyway…

[Deceit sinks down and then the room’s lights turn off, leaving the room in darkness]

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