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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 3 years

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Aarakocra Boyfriend: Enzo

This is for 2,000 of you lovely people following me. Thank you all so much! <3 This took more than a week to write, all thanks to writer’s block and burnout, so I’m thankful that I somehow managed to get this out lol.

Also, may or may not have gotten inspiration from Revali-- anyway, enjoy!

Part 2

Relationship: male monster x female reader

Burning Heart

Fresh snow. Fresh snow that had fallen a hundred-foot deep, cleansing the land for eternity.

"The last time I saw snow this deep, I was just a little boy, still clutched to my mother, unaware of how big the world was." Your companion marvelled. "My father was smart enough to never go further up north—he reminded me. I did not gain his intellect."

Calder was a man who came from the nearby town of Ravensfell, a few days out from Briar, but he had been more of a cold type when it came to first-time introductions. Eventually, you got to open up more of him, little by little. His olive skin, chiselled features and rugged beard made him every female's focus, but the poor man was either too oblivious or polite to acknowledge their flirtations. You couldn't help but laugh at the failed interactions. Poor man, too preoccupied in his own toil.

He became a well-appreciated acquaintance for you on your long travels from town to town, east to west then south to north, but his company was all good experience. After all, he was the best sellsword for the job, merely a guard for you whilst you continued your researches; the sight you needed when you turned your back.

Your team's campaign had led you and your small faction to head further up north, to a small village of Oakendenn full of proud and efficient warriors, the bird folk that had carried the same customs for centuries, evoking both fear and wonder into those who bumped into them. Granted, their seclusion from the world had been brought down quickly when travellers and researchers intent on learning about them came rushing at the chance, ruining their solitude for good.

Stepping foot into their quaint town was certainly a spectacle, having to meet your guide to finding such remains high up in the mountains of Fallde Slopes– if the slopes didn't kill you, the snowstorms could freeze the group within hours if they didn't take the right precautions or clothing.

"You say there is a guide who will help us?" The small dirk in your hand was smooth and unused, still brand new as the day you had gotten it. You were situated in the town itself, in a cramped yet warm inn that was all opened up to the elements, trying to remain unaware of the cold stares of the innkeepers.

"He's one of the finest warriors, apparently. Familiar to the lands and every speck of snow that litters this land," Calder's laugh was hearty. "Must pity us for our lack of feathers and wings."

"The Aarakocras are fierce, brutal they are with fighting as they are as with foreigners." If there was one thing you learnt, it was that not all the people you ran into would be so welcoming. "Careful you don't offend them. We need their apparent aid."

Calder grumbled something as he tended to the flames of the room, poking them occasionally. "Sooner to be done with this job and we can get out of their feathers, huh?"

"That's it, just think of it like that. And soon, you can be back to the warmth of the south."

"Thank the Gods," Calder smiled sadly. "I don't think I could spend another day away from my little Zerlina." You remembered the girl when you were riding out: a sad, tearful girl the spitting image of her father, tight dark hair so wild and knotted. You had remembered the night before the trip you had brushed them out gently for her the way your mother used to do for you. Just to help Calder out.

The poor man is a good father overall. Even if he doesn't see it.

"She'll be so happy to see you again, Calder. She misses her father dearly." You reassured quietly, watching the man again. He was worn and beaten, littered with scars and thick, burly arms. He longed for home too.

"I hope so too." He stretched, saying his goodnights to you and the others before heading to his cot to sleep. You followed, heading to your own bed before you couldn't find sleep, wishing you had someone to wait for you too.

Even when you remained aloof, you still tried to remain somewhat friendly to strangers, even to the guide who had gone out of his way into helping you. But they certainly what you had been expected.

"It seems I have to be a tour guide for your pesky expedition, hmm?"

The smile from nerves of introducing yourself to him had fallen from your face after hearing the words so sourly come from him. It didn't take much for you to build up the walls high again.

Your hand faltered, just in reach for him to shake, awkwardly pulling away. "So, you're the Enzo we were expecting?"

The first thing you noticed about him was how vivid his feathers were: the brightest compared to his countrymen. Many of reds, oranges and yellows, like red sands of the far south of your home; beaten and threaded like a thousand coppers. It made the winter sun far in the north much more lively. By far the prettiest of the others. You admitted, but only could you wish his personality was as lovely as his appearance.

Another thing you noticed about him was his wings: they were separate from his body, large and tucked behind his back, his hands similar to any humans but with long and curled nails for fingers. His bird body was dressed in what looked like traditional garbs: leather and a basic tunic and pants, his taloned feet poking out and tapping against the ground.

"Your boss was the one who called for me, asking if someone capable of knowing their way around these parts, clearly, you humans don't know much about us Aarakocras," he jeered, eyes a lovely golden colour even when they were staring intimidatingly down at you. "So, you're the one they call the Doctor?"

Clearly too prideful, I've noticed. You scoffed. All too stubborn like the snowstorms. "That is correct."

"So I've noticed," Enzo crossed his arms around his broad chest, the amusement was pooled in those eyes as if he was in on the funniest joke around. "Clearly all of your studies have gone to a degree than in common sense."

You pondered whether it would've been ideal to punch the bird square in the face, or whether provoking him would end with your untimely demise.

Instead, you squared your shoulders, straightening your posture as you pointed just behind him. "You see Fallde Slopes over there? Its hills have been receding in the last 100 years, meaning any day now, your village could be woken up buried under layers and layers of snow. The snow stops here, meaning you and your people could be facing the demolition of this region and its inhabitants." You crossed your arms too, copying him. "I'm just trying to help unless you think my studies had gone elsewhere?"

Enzo scoffed, a puff of feathers that ruffled up. "Let's just resume to what we're good at, hmm?"

If travelling anywhere had taught you anything, it was that you shouldn't trust any higher-ups, believing everything will be smooth sailing.

The reports and samples scattered across the slopes, dancing dangerously too low to the cliff edges, some succumbing more than others, and those in your group scrambled to save them. Enzo remained arrogant as ever, doing little to help and rather smugly watching the ordeal, complaining often that your group were "walking too slow" and "we were running out of time for sunlight".

You were situated in the corner, silently taking note of what was around of little life preserved, before the beating of wings perked your ears. Snow crunched delicately when the Aarakocra stooped beside you, watching with soundless intent.

"So, this is what you do?" He grazed at a small patch of dirt you had brought up beneath the heavy snow. "Looking at dirt and grass?"

"All of this hold important information for us to understand how the landscape is changing," Enzo couldn't help but to have his attention piqued when he heard how almost automatic your response was, informing rather than belittling him. When you looked up to meet his eyes, it was hard to gauge his reaction: head tilted, seemingly drawn in from how far leant to you he was beside you.

He quickly dismissed it, pulling back from the noticeable closeness, and the burning feeling in your chest fluttered too quickly for your liking. "Whatever keeps us alive, I suppose."

Another presence came over to the two of you, heavier than of the Aarakocra. "You think you could help me with this?" Calder was looking over at Enzo, who, also was staring with narrowed eyes at the bearded man.

"Yeah sure," you gave an awkward glance to both men, realising something was piercing the silent air. "Is something going on?"

"No," Enzo, puffed his chest out, giving Calder little regard as he turned his head. "You go off with your dog, I'm needed elsewhere."

You watched him walk away before turning back to Calder, head tilted. "I'm going to pretend nothing happened there."

"Agreed," Calder affirmed, pointing you towards the deeper parts of the woods where the treelines met and increased in sizes and numbers. "I think I might've found something."

"Lead the way." You gestured for him to take the lead, directing you through the trees. The snow was freshest in these parts, untouched and light, airy. A wonderland was discovered in a small corner forgotten from the world. Beautiful. You marvelled. I will never get bored of seeing this.

"What's wrong, Calder?" He stopped you when the two of you reached the middle of the area, overwatching the large view, the mountains dipped and the view from the top pointed directing to the Oakendenn, situated right in the opening of the valley. "It's right in target," Calder addressed, thick eyebrows knitted. "And that means a direct hit for the snow to collapse in on it all."

"We could have a day, week or years before this region is completely smothered." You noted wretchedly. All these reports, research and hypothesis, yet you felt like it all went to no use. It seemed like everything was too late, that hard work going down the drain. "I wish we could've done more."

"And we have, do not fret," Calder reassured, patting your shoulder that you needed from a comforting friend. "And we will do so much more. Let's head back to the others, keep all together."

Right, but still, I feel useless. You dusted the remaining snow off your warm clothes, trying to remind yourself of the crunching snow below, your foot sinking with every few steps. Like everyone relies on you all the time. The only sounds that were heard were the distinct soft crunches of the two of you heading back, before one wretched and horrid resounded, echoing along with the trees, some birds fleeing from their branches of homes.

You looked back to Calder, who looked back in confusion, listening closely to the cracking of the earth as if it had split open. Your right felt for a second as if it was sinking lower, taking your body with you as all your body weight brought you down so suddenly, snow following too, making your body crash into it with force as you waded chest-deep through it.

Your voice was sudden and nervous, watching the ledge you once stood at grow taller and taller above you, a weightless feeling take over your body, the scream of your name as unknown darkness settled around you before you could hit the ground.

The first time you had seen snow, you had been seven, marvelling in wonder with friends at how magical it all seemed. Never did you worry about the eternal cold, of it encasing your entire body and leaving you worthless and alone. You always had the warmth to rely on: warm blankets and hot cocoa and fire to share stories around. The cold was sore and biting, an eternity of nothingness but yourself.

You didn't know how long you had been trapped in darkness: how long you had gone unnoticed or remembered. Maybe this was it... just oblivion and emptiness. You tried to invasion your limbs, your fingers trying to tread through the snow like it was water; too thick to even pass through, but trying and trying to feel your fingers and toes wiggle again.

You clawed and clawed slowly until the darkness lightened and that bleakness turned to hope. You kicked your body out as you breached the surface, coughing and spluttering weakly, an invasion of pure cold and ice felt trapped in your throat.

You laid there with your head against a block of solid ice and snow, trying to steady your breathing, the cold and winds were never-ending, never giving your body a break as all felt numb.

I'm going to die out here. You thought. Will my story be told again? You wanted to laugh, to call for help, but your throat was stinging from its frostiness.

There was a distant, soft sound of tree branches moving and swaying, how the dead leaves swayed and moved with long, drawn moans, wings of small birds flying off from the abrupt noises. The flapping of wings never ceased, ringing in your ears, reminding you didn't have wings yourself to fly off from this nightmare. It was only when you could open your eyes was when you saw the blurred large figure descend in front of you, all feathers and intimidating, you wished to cry out in pain for your misery, but once your eyes focused, did you noticed something familiar about it all.

A rush of feathers, brown and red, as pretty as coppers.

"So, there you are." Enzo's voice was merely a whisper among the howling winds, flapping slowly to the snowy plains in front of you, his body inches from you towering easily over your small frame. You made no noise or voiced your frustration for his words, weakly looking up at him as best as you could.

The blowing winds cast a glow behind his silhouette, watching the Aarakocra bend to kneel in front of you. "Hey," his voice surprised you, a feathered hand on your shoulder, shaking you with almost impatience. "Don't die on me, you hear?"

"Shut up," the words came weakly from you, luring you to sleep, his figure blurring again until you saw three of him, vision dotted. "Enzo..."

"Hush." He wasted no time in collecting you in his arms, cuddling you close to him as he carried you. What shocked you most was how incredibly warm he was, unaffected by the vast cold. You instinctively snuggled closer into his chest, shutting your eyes and shuddering. "Let's get you out of here."

You didn't respond, feeling how there was a surge of air moving around you both, your body growing lighter and head more lightheaded as he flapped his wings, the winds more biting against your exposed face and neck.

The harsh winds or the cold went straight to your head, pulling you in and out of consciousness, wrapped tightly in the arms that allowed you to feel a sense of safety to slip beyond the darkness, to rest your eyes for a moment.

There was an aching drive for warmth that slowly spread through you, taking over your body, making you want to drink it in greedily. When your eyes opened once more to a flickering flame, dancing and roaring, filling its beauty in the room. Just opposite you in the small room, knelt Enzo, tending to something he was pouring into a bowl.

"Where are we?" Your voice felt worse with wear, hoarse and not tended to. Enzo flinched, his feathers bright and shimmering against the colour of the flames, making him seem like a risen phoenix, an enigma in your eyes.

In his hands, the bowl was passed to you, his own in hand as he watched you gauge your reaction, before answering, "A cave I found, a few days out from Oakendenn."

"And the others? And Calder-"

"For the love of the Gods, can you for once think about yourself?" His words weren't snappy or aloof, more full of weary and strain. He laughed tiredly. "Honestly, little doctor, do you think before you go out so recklessly?"

Your cheeks rouged at the little nickname, ignoring it for the time being until it would nag the part of your brain for answers. "All in the name of science."

"Yes, well there won't be any science if you're frozen to death." He hesitated momentarily, before slipping a warm blanket around your shoulders, securing it carefully. "You're still a valuable asset."

To who exactly though? You questioned, silently snuggling into the blanket further. There was a strong smell of mint that was strong in your nostrils, pleasant and warm, luring you to tranquillity. It smelt a lot like him somehow, and your heartbeat raced with bashfulness.

You watched from your peripheral, the Aarakocra shuffling to sit beside you properly, his gaze never seeming to leave yours. “You’re doing an awful lot for me, Enzo.” For someone who dislikes me, and I, supposedly too.

But even that seemed like a lie. Enzo scoffed, his laugh light and airy like the frozen air. “Seems to me someone is just enjoying the company.” He shuffled closer to you, awkwardly throwing an arm around you for further comfort. “If you manage to not become a human popsicle, maybe—just maybe, will I show you around my hometown.”

Not only had his soft words thrown you off, but the feeling of his arm around you seemed not to be of great surprise. “What do you mean?” You scrambled for the right words.

“I’ve dealt with a lot of humans in my time, taking them up and down these mountains,” he said. “Not one of them had wildly gone down one of the slopes. You think that can go so smoothly with me and my reputation?”

“Your reputation, huh?” You laughed, spluttering into it when it tickled the back of your throat harshly. Enzo had placed a cup of water on your lips hastily, eyeing you with fake disdain you hoped. “You have a great reputation for the ladies or something?”

“Hmph, if that’s what humans like to think of it, then no.” He snorted, his eyes shifting. In this low, dim light, they seemed to be practically glowing. “Gods, that sounds terrible.”

There was a laugh shared between the two of you for a moment, onlooking the fire soundlessly, an unexpectedly calm atmosphere settling. You sighed, resting against his shoulder, resting your head into the bed of warm feathers, the smell of mint intense. “I’ll take that promise if you’re keeping with it.”

Enzo laughed warmly, shutting his eyes, the body growing slack as he hummed quietly to himself. “That’s good to hear.”

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

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Tales of The Ghost Writer

“You met Xingqiu at Wanwen Bookhouse when delivering a batch of your newly-published book. But as a ghost writer, no one knew it was you that authored such books. Safe to say it was cute watching the noble bookworm fanboy about you in front of you.”

Pairings -> Xingqiu x Author!Reader

Word Count -> 3518

Theme -> Long Fic, Fluff

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> Xingqiu's name might be mispelled at times, also he rambles a lot

Entry Log # 645:

I’ve once again delivered the new batch of books to Wanwen Bookhouse today at 4PM, 30 new books in collection to be sold. That would add up to a total of 420 published books for Legend of the Lone Sword. Despite its old circulation, collectors and avid bookworms still seek out the volumes. In a spur of the moment thought, the 4th volume was finally rereleased for more readers to get a chance to read them. While on my rounds, I’ve met a particularly peculiar fan.

“4th volume?” You nod as you set down the stack of books on the counter where Jifang stood behind with a welcoming smile. “Thank you, everyone has been asking about it for a while now. I don’t understand how people keep missing out on the last volume like so.” There was an exchange of giggles between you continued your idle chatter, busying yourself with recounting the stack to make sure the order placed was exact. Yep, 30.

You picked one up from the top pile as Jifang enters the bookhouse to gather the payment. It wasn't that much of a feat to carry a pile of 30 books when it's only this thick, you thought as you opened the book in the middle and... buried your nose in it, literally. Archons, the scent of freshly printed books had always been such a stress reliever of a kind. The imprints were still fresh as you run your thumb over the pristine white page of page 75, the gravings of the letter bumping it in such an intricate and endearing manner. You suppose it should be prime time you get a copy of your own-

"Ah, the glorious scent fresh books offer are quite irresistible to everyone," your head whipped to the side in a hurry at the embarrassing display. Yet your new company only offered a light-hearted laugh, floaty and flowing swiftly past his lips. You find it enjoyable to listen to. "Fret not, I don't judge such honest guilty pleasure."

His smile was soft and respectful as you return it, watching his hand (wrists largely ruffled) pick up the next book on the pile, his interest shining the more he recognizes the the piece of literature. Such expensive clothing and poise, you thought as you continued to inspect. "I knew Wanwen had a schedule of new releases today, but I was not informed it would be the 4th volume of the Legend of the Lone Sword!"

"A fan?" You mused as you placed back the copy you took, leaning against the counter as you watched him quickly scan the lines of the book. He was intensely staring at every word with such a calculating gaze, that sometimes break when he reads how the character would sometimes reach an impasse, or when a new discovery reaches its peak. His ardent gaze was enough of an answer. When he took a break from reading to pass you his attention, you hadn't realize how red your cheeks had been out of embarrassment. "I've always wanted to get my hands on my own copy of the 4th, yet everytime all bookhouses in Liyue keep running out of stock. Is delivery normally this scarce?" He'd gestured at the not so looming pile.

You nod in response with a forgoing giggle. "Publishing could be running into some... shortness of funds?" Subtle, yet he hums in disappointment at the thought. His little pout, adorable, as he buries his face in the book again. I would gladly fund such glorious writing, you thought you heard past the leather back before the ornate doors past the counter finally opened again.

"Ah sorry it took so long, I couldn't find the exact pouch for the- hey! You again, you've read and been scolded dozens of times already," the woman angrily gestures to the notice board by the table, "Pay first, read later!"

You snorted, thankfully masked by the sudden cry of the caught culprit as he was smacked (hopefully gently) on the head by the owner, forcing him to put back the book to the pile. "Hnghh, but Lady Jifang! You didn't scold her, she was indulging herself with the book just the same," you breathed a fake gasp of astounded betrayal, before you three had laughed in chorus.

The oldest of your trio scoffed in amusement as she placed the bag of Mora unto your waiting hand. "What, her? Why would I scold her, she probably knows every word like the back of her ha-" her rambling was then cut off by a loud smack on her bottom, a book expertly finding its way back to your hand with a perfectly cut smile. Her yelp was not unnoticed by the male as he laughs at the display.

"Let him be, he's really been patiently waiting for the release!" Jifang scoffs at the word patiently as you came to the defense of blunette. You were never really aware of the norm in Wanwen, as you usually come by at a time where you would have been alone. This was a first.

"Quite so! Just the start of the volume had me hooked, setting for the peak of the story climax! The synopsis itself already hinted of another inclusion of a new element into the story I had not expected from this style of a book, surely such a writer would not tread such parallel territory without being an expert teller-" Jifang watched in amusement as her gaze lands on you at the start of the bookworm's rambling, watching the redness touch the tip of your ear with an abashed smile shyly gracing your lips. Behind it she can see the mirth and amusement, something she outwardly shows with her own expression.

"Wow," was the Liyuean woman's only response once the speaker has finished his lengthy speech. His dorkiness stands with pride at his examination.

You cleared your throat before you could mutter your initial words, finally realizing the time. "That was... quite marvelous of an analysis. A-Anywaysss, thank you for your partnership, I hope the books are all sold by tomorrow!"

And with that you swiftly made your exit, wanting to find a place to scream the embarrassment out. Or maybe squeal, just to be subtle.

Entry Log # 15:

As a distant relative to the Guhua clan, the (L/N) clan was not exactly known to be tied closely to the prestigious clan known for their expert martial. However, despite the impure connection, they carry with them still the honor of learning the arts to a meticulous detail.

Your family was one of the living practitioners of the Guhua Arts, twice removed, yet your spotlight was not that obvious as the name would carry. Your father wish to carry a new kind of prestige without relying on the powerful namesake and he had been adamant since birth to grind every teaching and form of the art into his immediate family.

"Misogyny nor feminism will not save you from battle, only your own strength." Something along those lines, was what he said.

Your eldest brother was his main point of reference when scolding you on not taking your lessons properly. A slacker he is, now he lacks not only a means of security but also financial stability, that's what you end up to if you don't treasure the arts of our family. You have no idea how martial arts brings you monetary security, but you can't really state to your own father that his logic was a bit skewed.

Daily during morning and the first touch of evening, you had resigned yourself into training under your father's supervision. As the eldest daughter of the house, you carry with you still a responsibility to be strong. No fraility was accepted, and your mother always argues about your father's ever so masculine lifestyle being imposed on you, a lady that should be taught other customs for means of living.

Yet after every session, at the end of the day under the caress of the lamp by your study table, your hands move with precision and calmness he would have scoffed at in the dojo. The beauty of words and their power to create new worlds effortlessly had drawn you in too easily, ever since you were young you had a knack for the books your mother reads to herself or to you.

Entry Log # 651:

The next time you'd met the Wanwen Bookworm (nickname you gave) was a rare moment when he'd finally looked at you more than the book in his hand. It seemed your little interaction from the bookhouse was attention-grabbing enough to make him seek out your person with a bunch of questions and wonder.

You gulped, patting down your blue skirt before accompanying him. The way he rambles was too dangerous, it was drawing something within you to also do the same, and you feared you may let out something you shouldn't. But a fellow 'reader' is good company, and with the little interactions you had with the same age group with the same interest makes this moment something you can't pass.

"Carrier to the Yae Publishing House?" You nodded calculatedly, after confirming you've said just the right information. "Quite intriguing, especially with such young age to be working in line with the greatest press house in Teyvat." Ohhh, he's surely smart despite the first impression of goofiness.

You giggled as politely as you can remember you should upon the scarce teachings of your mother. "I've always liked literature so I couldn't uhm let the opportunity pass, even if it's insignificant like that." Good, good, piling up the lies. You're grateful you haven't made some contract of friendship and happen upon the wrath of your nation's God. Or Qixing.

"Surely, you must have been in the presence of some of the wordsmiths during your rendezvous! So tell me," there was a dangerous glint in his eyes and you knew exactly what he's gonna ask, "Have you met the legendary Bob Ong?"

Oh goodness, you felt him caress and pat your back as you tried your best to breathe after the sudden choking on nothing, he was so spot on that you were horrified even if you had an inkling of what he was gonna inquire. "I uhm I don't really know what I'm allowed to say." In the inside you were goddamn screaming.

"You don't have to tell me anything about him, really! It's his mystery that makes his character just the most intriguing." You gulped down hard, this time without choking out of nothing. "I don't really know much about who he is since he's, you know, unknown? No clues whatsoever, he could be anywhere right now, maybe you've talked to him already or no. Yeah?"

He held a convincing hum before taking in the cryptic answer, content, for now you assume. "Not many avid readers of the book can place a name to the unnamed author, but how blind they were to see the cryptic signature at the back of the cover. Truly a wonderous act." Xingqiu, you finally learned his name, had took you out to lunch for the trouble and enjoyment. It wasn't really necessary, but you figured it was probably to keep you with him longer to converse about the books more.

A lot of his... analysis actually coincide with the messages that you lodged between the lines. He understands your way of narration more than you do at times, and you were left wondering just how much he had read of the fourth volume despite only having it for a few days then. When evening once again struck, you had bid each other farewell in the promise of another time to hang.

"It's a literature of love and freedom- disguised as a martial arts novel." Was his parting analysis, and you were left to wonder, was that really what you had projected into your works?

Entry Log # 32:

In your young and hopeful mind, you'd sent your first ever manuscript to Yae Publishing House. It wasn't your first work but it was the one you worked hard on the most, with weeks of furbishing and reworks. Your mother, although not directly informed of your whole plan, had provided you with great feedback and generous suggestions. And soon you created the first manuscript of 'String of Pearls'.

With a generous note and what you hoped is enough mora to at least publish a book, your package was sent to Inazuma.

You waited for days, of which turned to weeks, and then to months. You thought by the end of it all, you had been swindled but as young as you still hoped for the best of its outcome.

And then one day, as you were sweeping the outside of your gates in preparation for your father's return from some business in the harbor, a lone man of Inazuman style found its way to your humble abode. He calls himself Mr. Nine, and in his arms cradled two similar looking books, with a familiar envelope.

That was when you had been given the opportunity to write for the greatest Publishing House under the guise of a pseudonym. The great Nine was astounded by your ripeness paired with your prowess in writing. You hid behind Bob Ong, a protection from being belittled as a young child and a woman, to prevent being traced by your father if ever.

Yet you remained as subtle still. Even if your name was not written on the covers themselves, within your heart you were still the writers of those books. You've placed anagrams and mysterious puzzles revealing your name but it was part of the intrigue of the story that they had not thought much about it.

One day, you lost your book when you had gone out to eat. It was the second copy, as you carried the first one in your room, yet it still held a special place in your heart.

Xingqiu was a master novelist too, as you'd expect from someone so enthusiastic on the art of literature too. You'd long since become friends and found out soon enough his true identity. The heir to the Feiyun Commerce Guild, master practitioner of the Guhua Clan Arts, soon to be novelist. He was in every aspect the better half between you two.

One day in his daily reading breaks where he would happen upon you, he had found his eyes wafting over your notebook that you always carry. It was designed to look like a hard bound book specially tailored to your tastes, but it was nothing but mere keepers of your notes and musings.

Your newest page had in it a brand new draft for a brand new story you wanted to flesh out before the success of Legend of the Lone Sword diminishes. Mr. Nine still praised you for the success of your first major publishing and had assured you that there's no need to immediately compensate with another work so early, but your mind was already so eager to work. Your friend had never seen you so- flamed and passionate as the paper caves to the intense pressure your pencil places on it.

So he leans on your shoulder slightly (glad you were still distracted) as he quietly reads the words that articulates on the paper. The more Xingqiu reads, the more he craves, just the same vigor he felt everytime he had read his favorite works when each chapter invigorates him to continue to the end.

"Such a great outline," the blunette breathes out as he leans his cheek at the crown of your head. You let out a cute squeak when you'd finally come to, and turned your head to face him- "I didn't know you were into romance, my liege. Tell me, just where do you get such inspirations?" Your nose softly collided against the smoothness of his cheek, your lips ghosting over the line that is his jaw.

You scrambled backwards to direction opposite of his, yet with his body weight leaning on you, his center of balance quickly shifted on your weight like a net being pulled against the sides of a boat. You both toppled over.

"My, my, I didn't expect such abrupt resistance from you," Xingqiu's arms caged you as it holds him up against the grassland on either side of you. There was a certain mischievous glint in the ocean that is his eyes, which only meant one thing. "No need to be shy," you closed your eyes shut as his face leans in closer to yours, fanning over the frame of your face as he lets out a warm yet teasing exhale, "I'm sure we've gone past our personal bubbles in this relationship." You felt his chest against yours and braced for the inevitable-

as he finally licked your nose(?).

What.

"X-XINGQIUUUUU!" And then a cry of pain after a particularly harmful blow.

Entry Log # 659:

Xingqiu had always been a man of great words despite his chicken scratch of a penmanship. Vivid tales of his manuscript that I'm sure the Publishing House would take great value for, his years of memorizing numerous works in his arsenal. He told me that if I were to one day publish the manuscript, he wants to get the first copy and the first to get it signed. However Xingqiu has one glaring weakness when it comes to the art of words. When I asked him what would be a good title for the manuscript I made, he simply said, "Tales of the Writer!" And he sent a goofy smile. I thought he was joking, and I asked again, this time of what his work would be named. He replied:

"Why, Legend of Sword, of course!" He really sucks at titles.

Entry Log # 660:

Upon returning home with my new work ready to be shipped off for mass publishing, I've finally confronted my father. I had with me the final volume of my first work and offered it to him as first a gift of reconciliation, and my father took it with a mirthful glint in his eyes. He said he has been looking for the last volume of the series he'd been wanting to complete. I... I didn't know father was a fan.

The climax of my entire double-life ended so peacefully and tragically meh. I was expecting a martial arts fight of honor that will go down in history, but instead I ended up signing my own book as my father gushed about how nicely I illustrated the martial arts teaching we had during our sessions. I did not sleep well that night.

October 9th was a day celebrated by others more than the young master Xingqiu. The pavilion was mixed in with people from different walks of life and of faces he doesn't necessarily recognize. He lingers by the open window that shows the grandeur balcony, beckoning him outside. Today was a scheduled new release for Wanwen Bookhouse, and he had heard several chatters from the citizens that a new series would be published hailing from Yae Publishing House once again.

And the virtuoso of literature cannot attend such important matter himself because of his own birthday. How irking, you weren't even there to help appease his grumbling, you should have been here by now upon his invitation.

Suddenly the master of invitations bellowed out a familiar name, as his job to announce the entrance of the invited guests to the banquet. When he looks up, you were already walking down the grand staircase in your creme and blue Hanfu garb, accompanied by a tall man of a different wear—

"(Y/N), M-Mr. Nine-!" He bowed politely to the man as you curtsied at his presence. You looked absolutely dashing yet the man towered your form easily. "It's my honor to finally meet you, sire."

"Happy birthday, Xingqiu, I've heard many great things about you," the blunette opened his hands to receive the book gifted by the man. It had a familiar cover and title to it, Legend of Sword, "Great things, in fact, that there would too be great things to discuss later on." The Inazuman graced him a smile and he almost teared up at the implications, if not for when the author suddenly nudged you forward from your demure state.

Tales of the Ghost Writer

"X-Xingqiu, happy birthday! This is uhm, I've always wanted to- I wanted to give you this myself, I know you'd miss the first batch of releases," an unfamiliar book sits on his palm now. A plume and sword adorning its cover but no title, he shifts his hand to open it to the first page, "You said you wanted its first copy be signed, and I thought it appropriate to be given now at such a special occasion."

There in fresh print and ink he'd finally been revealed the mysteries he had long been searching for.

Against the translucent paper it was written and signed,

Tales of The Ghost Writer

Bob Ong, (Y/N)

@creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @boxofteenageideas @indigodreamtime47

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact xingqiu #xingqui x reader #xingqiu x reader #Bonafide specials #exile.flower #accidentally posted again but okay #female reader

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thewhitejournal · 4 years

Text

“The Intern” Part Three

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader

(not my gif)

hello all! i am so sorry for the wait, i know it’s been quite anticipated by some of you. i just got a little stuck but hopefully things are rolling again and going my way with the story so, please enjoy! :) the first part is here and the second part is here in case you haven’t read either yet.

feel free to message me/comment if you want to be tagged in future updates :)

content warnings: minimal cursing, light mention of abuse and violence

disclaimer: i am not a writer for criminal minds so therefore i cannot write the details of a case to save my life. i hope you can enjoy it despite the fact.

The pilot helped you halfway up the stairs to the jet; you walked with caution so you didn’t get your heels caught on a step. Boarding the jet, you turned to your right and walked into the cabin. All the teams’ eyes were on you, including Aaron.

“You all know our intern, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’ve invited her on this case, she’s on the team for now so treat her as such.” He told the rest of the team sternly. They all muttered things like “you got it” and “of course”. It made you smile. They were all very accepting of you already.

Morgan, Reid, JJ and Prentiss were sitting in the four chairs that faced the table, files and pictures spread out all over it. Rossi was on the couch, legs propped up on it as well. The only spot left where you could converse with the team was next to Aaron on the loveseat. You watched your feet as you walked past him, sitting down next to him. You still didn’t make eye contact with him, just the four that were currently discussing the case and their theories right in front of you. You tried watching him out the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t get a good look, and you didn’t want to be too obvious either.

“Maybe there was some kind of trigger with the original Oakland County killer? Reid, what do you know?” Derek asked; all eyes were on Spencer now. Spencer sighed, shaking his head.

“The Oakland County Child killer was never caught. They had a DNA profile, but it didn’t match either suspect or anyone else in connection with the case. So there’s no way to tell.”

“So this probably isn’t an exact copycat, right?” Despite your nerves, you spoke up. The teams’ heads turned to look at you. You were still trying to learn, but that didn’t mean you weren’t afraid to mess up in front of them. They were the professionals.

Derek shrugged. “Probably, that’d be my guess too.” Some of the other guys nodded their heads; you didn’t miss the upward twinge on Hotch’s lips. You weren’t sure what that meant, but surely it was good, right?

“Morgan and Prentiss, you’ll go to the crime scene, see if there’s any type of signature on the body or at the scene. Dave and Reid, I want you to go talk to the parents, see what you can find out. JJ, you, (Y/N) and I will set up at the station.”, Hotch said. At the mention of yours and JJ’s name in the same sentence, you two made eye contact. She gave you a bright smile, and you returned it. You liked her already; her energy was so pleasant to be around.

Of course, you didn’t slide over the fact that Hotch said your first name so casually; your heart fluttered at the sound of your name on his lips. The team nodded curtly, gathering the contents of each file and compiling it again. The jet would be landing in about an hour, and everyone resorted to their forms of ways to pass the time.

Morgan plugged in some headphones and laid against the seat, getting lost in whatever was flowing through those speakers. Reid pulled out a book, flipping through the pages at a speed you couldn’t do while also understanding the material. Rossi opened the file again, eyes flickering over all the material. JJ held a light conversation with Prentiss about their personal lives; you didn’t listen in, even though they were among everyone else and it wouldn’t have necessarily been considered rude.

Your leg was crossed over the other, body facing away from Hotch, but you started to lose feeling in the leg on the bottom, so you switched, crossing your ankles. Your body shifted closer to Hotch; this was entirely coincidental, but he changed positions at the same time you did. He brought his knee up and sat in a way that his leg was against your thigh. You’d expected him to move, but he didn’t. You felt frozen; sure, you didn’t mind the physical contact, even something so small. The thing you were really worried about was the team or even Aaron noticing that you were flustered, so you tried your best to keep your feelings under wraps.

Distracting yourself with the case file seemed like the best option at the time, so you opened it up and read over all the details again, gory and sad as they were. Suddenly, it felt like Aaron moved even closer to you. Surely he was teasing you or something at this point. You decided to take the risk and look over at him, but not before making sure the rest of the team was preoccupied first.

He was reading a book; you couldn’t tell what it was, but the size of his hands made the book look so tiny in his palm. You watched his fingers move so gracefully as he turned the next page, and you looked up at his face. His light brown eyes moved back and forth as they took in every line on the page, but suddenly he slowly turned his head and looked at you.

You wanted to look away, but it was like you were in a trance of some kind. His eyes searched your face, and he looked different than usual. His expression was soft, like how you’d seen in the picture on his desk of him and his son. He looked genuinely relaxed; even though you hadn’t known him long, you knew this was very rare. The left corner of his lip twinged upwards into a tiny smile, and how could you not return it? The exchange was small, but not to you.

You both turned your attention back to the reading material in your hands, a smile on your face. There was one trying to show on his lips, too.

The ride to the police station was short; Aaron drove while you and JJ sat in the back. She made conversation with you about your life and you asked about hers, which you didn’t mind. But all you could think about was Aaron was listening to every little detail you shared about yourself, gaining knowledge about you while you had little to none about him. And it’s not like he probably wouldn’t have figured out most of these things on his own; it is his job, after all, to figure people out. He was damn good at it too.

Hotch parked the car out front and you all got out. He held the door open for you and JJ, but you didn’t walk in first. You left that up to either Aaron or JJ. Hotch took the lead, which did not surprise you in the least. The sheriff greeted him almost immediately.

“Hey, thank y’all so much for coming up. It means the world to us. I’m Sheriff Bradbury.” The two men shook hands. Aaron turned his body so you and JJ were more visible to the sheriff.

“These are agents Jareau and (Y/L/N).” Your heart felt like it was going to burst; he introduced you as ‘agent’. You’ll admit, the sound of it was nice to hear. The sheriff reached out to shake yours and JJ’s hands, giving you an acknowledging nod.

“Everything you requested is just in that room there.” Sheriff Bradbury gestured to an empty conference room with a whiteboard standing against the wall and a box of what you assumed to be the case files and other information you hadn’t yet been provided with.

“Thank you.” Aaron told him, giving him a curt nod and walking to the room, you and JJ in suit. There were only about three or four boxes on the table, which didn’t seem like much to you, so that was a relief. Some of the boxes were files and evidence from the case that the current unsub seemed to be copying; most of the boxes were older. There seemed to be not much information on the newest case. But you were sure that was going to change soon.

Hotch thought it would be a good idea for a pair of fresh eyes like yours to analyze the older case files, so he started showing you what to look for and how easiest to find connections between the two cases. He said he would help you look over them because the information on the ‘77 case rivaled the files on the new one in an outstanding amount. JJ started combing over the finer details of the newest case but watching the two of you interact at the same time.

Aaron sat in the office chair next to you, looking over and perceiving the information in front of him much quicker than you could. You had to keep reminding yourself that he did this every day, and this was your first time. Being next to him calmed the nerves you had wiring inside you though; it was unexplainable. Something about his presence was just so...right, to you.

After having settled into your seat and your role, for the most part, you realized it was a bit chilly in the conference room. You pulled your blazer closer to your body, clasping the button on the front. JJ unrolled her sleeves and buttoned them at her wrists, attention never breaking from the papers in front of her. The slight chill to the room seemed to have no effect on Aaron, which didn’t surprise you. He was still reading over the file in his hand, dark brows furrowed on his forehead.

A sudden shiver went down your spine.

“It is kinda chilly in here, hm?” JJ remarked, rubbing her arms. She pulled her suit jacket over her shoulders. You just chuckled at her statement. You liked the little small talk and the fact that with each passing second, there was no awkward silence. Suddenly, Aaron sat the file that was in his hand down on the table and pulled his arms from his jacket, removing it. JJ raised a brow slightly at this, watching his next move. You were too, just trying not to make it as obvious.

The jacket was in his hand now and outstretched to you. Your face began to heat up. JJ watched for your reaction, but Aaron didn’t look over at you.

“Thank you Hotch, but I’m okay-“ He interrupted you. He looked over at you now, a soft look in his eyes but the small stern look still on his face.

“I insist, (Y/L/N).” Shyly, you took it and draped it over your shoulders, returning to your work. Mostly so that your face was faced more towards the papers and not to him, just in case your cheeks were red. As you turned away, you swore you saw a little smile on his face.

“Thank you.” You mumbled. He hummed in an acknowledging tone.

The jacket was warm, almost a bit overwhelmingly so. It smelled like him, too. The actual smell was hard to place, but it made sense that that’s what he smelled like. Maybe a little bit of cinnamon and vanilla, oddly enough. It was a very cozy and homey smell, and you loved it. You resisted the urge to snuggle into it; you imagine it was almost as good as actually hugging him.

Some time passes as the three of you read over the material in front of you. You read some police reports of some of the suspects in their younger years; they acted out quite a bit. The main suspect was the focus of your attention; he had been charged for things like vandalism, arson, all the way up to domestic disputes with his girlfriends. It didn’t make sense to you. These activities usually describe several different types of unsubs, not just a single one. Not all of these crimes usually fit in with one type of killer.

What was also strange to you was the fact that the original killer strayed away from one gender in his victims; the reason why was usually harder to put a finger on. There’s usually no sexual motive behind someone like this. You were just remembering things from what you’d seen at the beginning of some of your textbooks. The types of killers you might see and how they act. That was about all of the information you had on them though; your further work went more into the technical side of things. You liked being in the field, but you felt useless. You didn’t have the kind of knowledge the rest of the team did about this type of work. Hopefully, you could contribute, you thought to yourself.

“Anyone find anything?” Hotch spoke up. This was your chance. Even though you hadn’t found anything solid, it was still something. But you waited to hear from JJ first. She sighed, shaking her head. Aaron looked over at you. You cleared your throat.

“I saw that the main suspect in ‘77 had a lot of charges in his youth, but they’re all over the place. I just don’t think it makes sense.” Your eyes didn’t leave the paper in front of you. But the two agents’ gazes were on you. You felt it was probably best to meet their eyes, as much as you were surprisingly afraid to meet Aaron’s. You looked up, eyes meeting JJ’s first.

“I mean, he was charged with arson and domestic violence, several times for both. We don’t usually see unsubs with so many outlets for their rage, right? Usually, they just pick one and stick with it.” You looked over at Hotch. His eyebrows were knitted together, but his body language suggested he was open to your ideas. One arm propped up on the table, the other resting in his lap, his body turned towards you. The palm of his hand that was on the table outstretched, motioning for you to hand him the file. You complied immediately.

He read over it, seeing what you meant. “She’s right. Usually, it’s either physical violence or arson, not both.” JJ nodded in agreeance.

“So what does that mean?” You asked aloud to no one in particular. Suddenly, Rossi and Reid enter the room. Your body froze, not because you were cold this time. You remembered Aaron’s jacket was still over your shoulders. You shrugged it off so that it fell behind your back, hopefully before Spencer and Rossi could notice.

“The parents said Nathan was on a gaming website where chat rooms were available and that’s likely how the two met. The unsub probably lured him out that way. He likely asked Nathan to meet him in real life under the ruse that he was around Nathan’s age. Was that Hotch’s jacket?” Spencer stated, then asked the question as if it were nothing. Your face started to grow red and JJ tried to hide a smile. Before you could object or try to say anything in defense of yourself, Aaron spoke up.

“The unsub has evolved, its unlikely it can be the same unsub or anyone close to them. The original suspect would’ve continued luring his victims without any technology, stuck to his ways.” You saw Rossi smirking at you and Hotch, realizing Reid’s observation was correct.

“So this unsub is like a modern-day version of the original?” JJ asked. You agreed silently, as did most of the team. They continued discussing the details of the case and new things they’d found, along with Derek and Prentiss who’d just entered the room a minute or two ago. They talked about what they saw at the crime scene, which wasn’t much. You couldn’t focus on anything they were saying or if you had anything to contribute, plus you weren’t sure what to say. You had zero experience with how to work an actual case, you’d only done a couple of exercises at the beginning of your classes.

“(Y/L/N)?” Hotch’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. It was just the two of you in the room, for the first time. You hadn’t noticed the rest of the team had left. You looked over at him, shaking your head internally. How could you be so out of it, in the middle of something so important? Maybe you were better off as a tech analyst, as much as you wanted to be as close to Aaron and the team as possible.

“Sorry, I guess I got kind of preoccupied.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing and closing your eyes.

“With what?” Aaron asked you. You scoffed lightly, turning and getting his jacket from behind you and handing it to him. His brows were knitted together as they usually were, but his eyes were a softer brown, filled with something you might place as concern. He reluctantly took the jacket, draping it over his knee. “Is everything okay, (Y/N)?”, he questioned again. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of your first name on his voice.

“I don’t think I’m right for the field.” He didn’t answer you; he just sat there, listening for what you had to say. You sighed. “I never know what’s right or wrong to say,” you continued, “I don’t know what it means when an unsub acts the way they do or anything that you all are already skilled in. Maybe I would just be better in Quantico, behind a screen.” For some reason, it felt like a confession. You felt guilty, maybe that you’d disappointed him in some way.

“(Y/N), I’m not going to tell you where to go or what to do. Go wherever you’re more comfortable, there’s no pressure. But while you’re here, I want your head in it. Can you do that?” You only nodded, hardly meeting his eyes. His hand rested on top of yours, pulling your eyes to meet his.

“I’m here for you.” He said in a low tone with a small smile, patting your hand. You returned the smile, looking into his amber eyes. Something in the air sizzles between the two of you, but you can’t quite place what the feeling is. But it feels mutual.

He stands, pulling his jacket on. “We’re going to check into the hotel, do you want a ride?” He starts gathering his briefcase and all the files he was looking at together.

“No, I think I’ll just walk.” You say slyly, flashing a smile at him. He looks concerned for a moment like he didn’t realize you were kidding. But then he chuckles, looking at the floor. Your smile grows wider at the fact that you made him laugh.

“Come on, (Y/L/N).”

“Yes, sir.”

tags:

@dilaudidwinchester

@awriterincrime

@art-and-thoughts

@royallybookish

@bihoeofmanyfandoms

#fanfic #fanfiction #literature #romance #original story #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson #david rossi #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #derek morgan

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mvrtaiswriting · 4 years

Note

Your writing is so beautifully done! I feel like you really capture your characters’ personalities. Would you consider writing a scenario where reader was part of the Crusaders and is reconnecting with part4!Jotaro after his recent divorce. It’s awkward dating at first, but Joot’s heart melts every time he sees reader and Jolyne getting along so well.

Are you even real? - Jotaro Kujo.

HELLO HELLO HELLO and thank you so much for waiting so long! Writer’s block has been a pain BUT this one actually carried me away and helped me get through it.. so thank you for requesting it! Gotta say it: timeline of jojo’s event is not accurate, but it does include everything you asked for!! I don’t wanna bother you anymore so please enjoy! I hope this meets your expectations!!

Neutral reader x Jotaro Kujoh.

Jojo’s bizzare adventures: Diamond Is Unbreakable & Stardust Crusaders

Timeline of Jojo’s events (mostly jotaro’s fatherhood) is a bit bizzare

SFW

Trigger warning: usual jojo’s violence

Words Count: 2631

Song suggestion: Are you even real? by James Blake

Hi! Are you a new reader? Check my masterlist for more content!

Please feel free to reblog or leave a comment :) help me support my art (it’s free!),

Jotaro was about to throw what would have been his last punch to Kira when he was interrupted by the manifestation of a familiar stand. Was he hallucinating? Did he lose too much blood to imagine things now? While he asked himself this questions, resting his back against the wall trying to preserve the few energies he had left in his body, he looked around looking for the owner of the stand that just came to his rescue. His eyes scanned meticulously the area; he was sure you weren’t far – of course, if all of it just wasn’t a massive joke made by his tired mind.

But you were there – you were really there. And you were beating up Kira so bad, making it look so easy. He widened his eyes open, forcing himself to remain conscious. Josuke would have arrived in matters of minutes and he would have cured all of his injuries.

Jotaro closed his eyes, and the next thing he saw was you and Josuke leaning over him. You smiled when you noticed he was regained energy and health, looking into his beautiful aquamarine eyes for some seconds. You really missed them, you missed him.

“Getting old?” you said laughing, offering him a hand to help him stand up. He shook his head while a soft, almost imperceptible smile formed on his lips as he fixed his hat onto his head as per usual.

“What are you doing here?” he said, opening his arms and implicitly inviting you into a hug.

You smiled, hugging him tight. You guys hadn’t seen each other in so long, and being in each other’s arms just felt like coming home.

“Guess this is your way to say ‘thank you for saving my ass, nice to see you again!’” you said laughing.

Behind you, Josuke’s and his friends’ all had riddled expressions on their faces. Seeing Jotaro so outgoing surely was something unexpected – so much that Kira running away didn’t seem to matter at all.

Jotaro nodded at your words, breaking up from the hug and taking a good minute to look at you. He still was much taller than you, and you didn’t seem to have aged a bit. You were as beautiful as he remembered you. What he didn’t remember was all the complicated, little emotions he felt every time he was next to you that were now coming back to surface. You always held a special place in his heart. You two always shared a particular bond that never got the chance to really develop. During the crusaders days, you were too busy fighting and looking for Dio to get involved into emotional relationships; and following the final battle, after losing Kakyion, Avdol and Iggy, Jotaro didn’t think it was appropriate to actually confess you his feelings. All of you were mourning the deaths of your companions, and although Kakyion would have encouraged Jotaro to actually tell you about how he felt, in that moment, it just didn’t feel right. So he let you go, and everyone just returned to their own lives. He had moved on since then or at least he tried to do so; he was now a father with a failed marriage, but he never really forgot you. Afterall, no one ever forgets their first love.

“Joseph called me a week ago. I’m sorry I came late but it was the best I could do!” You answered Jotaro’s previous question. “He told me you guys needed a hand and that my degree in criminology would have been useful. He explained everything to me and.. here I am!” you continued.

Jotaro’s expression seemed surprised. He didn’t know his grandfather was still in contact with you. At first, he started to ask himself why didn’t Joseph tell him years before. He could have had a chance with you – he would have followed you wherever you were. His jiji knew what he felt towards you, how could he just stay silent? Those questions were quickly followed by doubts: what was Joseph planning? Did he call you because they really needed you there or because he was just trying to help Jotaro overcome his divorce and find someone to help him with Jolyne? All these doubts clouded Jotaro’s mind, leaving him silent.

After you were introduced to everyone, you and the rest of the guys went to a coffee bar to discuss how investigations would have been organised and what methods would have been more successful in finding Kira’s new identity.

Jotaro kept his eyes locked on you while you professionally explained to Rohan, Koichi and the rest of the boys what to do. A part of him was busy studying every little detail of your face. How you still did the same facial expression you did 10 years before, how your smile still managed to lighten up everything around you. It was so strange how much time passed by, how many things changed during these years; yet things stayed the same between the two of you. He still felt the same way he did when he was just a boy, you guys still related to each other the same way you did when you travelled around the world.

Jotaro’s posture was much more relaxed now that you were around. His face had a more relaxed expression, and you gladly found out that he became a bit more talkative than he was in his younger days.

Joseph found you a room in the same Hotel where him and Jotaro where staying in while in Morio-cho, leading the two of you to spend an incredible amount of time together.

As time passed, you and Jotaro grew closer and closer. You quickly learned about his love life and that he became a marine biologist, something you would have never expected from him. He was very curious about your life too: he was eager to know what happened to you during those years – he wasn’t able to find you when he tried, and now that you were right in front of him, he wanted to make the best out of the time he got to spend with you. He wanted to know if the person he always loved was taken, and what happened to them during all that time. However, he never directly asked you any private question. He learned that you had an important relationship at a certain point, which broke your heart and made you afraid of love, but only because you and Joseph talked about it.

He thought it was ironic; he had a similar experience.

Searching for Kira’s new identity was tiring. You were all doing your best, and were using every resource you could. You in particular were really involved with the whole research project– it was the main reason why you were there. Every time there were news, whether they were minor or not, you were always the first one to be notified.

You were busy examining some of your notes and the pictures Rohan took when Jotaro knocked on your door. You sent your stand over to open the door, focusing on your studies. It was only when you smelled Jotaro’s sweet perfume filling the room that you finally lifted your eyes up from the books and the various pics in front of you. You greeted Jotaro with a weak smile, as he sat down next to you.

“Thought you could use some coffee.” He said, leaving a fuming cup in front of you.

You thanked him, and proceeded to take a long sip from the cup.

“How is it going?” he asked.

You sighed, running an hand through your hair as if that gesture could help you reorganise your thoughts. You explained everything to him, ranting a bit about how stressing the whole situation felt. Every time you thought you got closer to finding Kira, something happened that forced you to start all over again. He wasn’t like every other serial killer you studied about; he was always a step ahead of everyone.

Jotaro listened carefully to your words, nodding sometimes to let you know that he was really paying attention to what you were saying. Once you finished, he looked a bit perplexed and offered you his insight regarding the whole situations. You trusted his words more than anyone else’s – you knew he had great analytical skills, you would have trusted him with your life. Something you already did in the past.

The two of you spent the night together, smoking some cigarettes while discussing about every possibility regarding Kira’s escape. He sat exactly next to you on the sofa, reading some documents given to you by the Speedwagon foundation when you tiredly rested your head on his shoulder.

This gesture made his muscles contract for a second, catching him out of guard. He turned to look at you, your eyes almost closed because of your tiredness. Without saying a word, Jotaro leaned his lips against your head, leaving a soft kiss on it before continuing reading his documents as if nothing happened. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep. When Jotaro noticed it, he wasn’t sure about moving. He didn’t want to wake you up, but he knew that wasn’t the most comfortable position for you to sleep in. He slowly lied on the sofa, letting you rest your head on his chest. He put his white coat on you, deciding to stay there for the night.

You woke up next to him the following morning, your bodies completely intertwined. You were confused, as you didn’t remember falling asleep. Also, you didn’t really want to bother Jotaro this much, and immediately felt bad about it. You slowly got up, leaving the beautiful man sleep on the sofa of your hotel room. After a quick shower, you headed towards the hotel’s canteen to buy some breakfast for both of you.

When you finally returned to your room, you saw Jotaro stretching up, standing tall in the middle of the room. “Morning” he whispered in a low, raspy voice.

Smiling as if you were a teenager in love, you replied and offered him a donut.

“I’m sorry for yesterday. You could have woken me up.” You said shyly, doing your best to avoid eye contact.

He hinted a small laugh, messing your hair with his hand.

“No need to apologise, silly. It’s fine, I fell asleep too.”

Days passed by, and you knew you were getting closer to find out Kira’s identity. Your days however, weren’t made up solely by studies, researches or fight. Most of the time you found yourself spending time with the Joestar’s family: you would usually have dinner with Josuke, Jotaro, Joseph and Josuke’s mum, spending quality time together and hearing funny anecdotes from Josuke and Joseph. You also had the chance to meet Jolyne a few times; Jotaro drove you out of city because he really cared about letting the two of you meet. And it was a good thing: you and jolyne relly got along with each other, almost as if you had been friends in a previous lifetime.

Although Jotaro was never vocal about it, he was important to him to see how along you got with his family. He loved seeing you playing with Jolyne, and he knew how much you appreciated and respected Joseph. It was also nice to see you getting along with Josuke – both of you had a lively personality, and he grew affectionate towards you really quickly. Sometimes, Jotaro would find your bond a bit irritating – but he knew Josuke was only a 14 y/o boy. He was also conscious about how irrationally jealous he could become, so he never really spoke about it.

As time passed, Jotaro became more and more aware of his feelings towards you. He never forgot you and now every emotion he felt in the past was simply coming back.

The two of you spent an awful amount of time together, always finding new excuses to do so. Whether it was to investigate over Kira, training to prepare for the final battle or simply visiting some new places, there wasn’t a moment when you weren’t with him; and although he felt incredible bad for thinking about it, Jotaro hoped to find Kira as late as possible.

He needed more time; more time to fully understand what was going on inside his mind and his heart, more time to find the right words to explain everything to you, more time to understand whether his feelings were reciprocated or not.

It was during the final battle with Kira that he finally had the responses he needed.

Seeing you covered in blood made his heart beat incredibly fast. For minutes that felt like an eternity he did not know what to do, how to act - something which was very unusual for him. Jotaro had always been the kind of person to think rapidly, without letting his emotions overwhelm him. But this time it was different. He left you and Josuke fighting alone against Kira for too much time and now the both of you were in danger. It was something he already experience before in Egypt, and he wasn’t willing to lose anyone else. You kept one of Josuke’s arms around your shoulders to help him standing, the young boy still towering you even if his figure was arched over you. Both of you were covered in blood and with various injuries over your bodies. You were still able to stand on your feet, looking angrily at Kira who was grinning in response. Your breath was heavy and you didn’t have much strength left in your body, but when you saw Jotaro, you knew you had to hold on.

You gave him a quick look, his face covered with worry and fear. “I’ll cover your back but you'll have to be quick.” you said, summoning your powerful Stand once again. Jotaro understood your plan, and without losing anymore time he started walking towards you, becoming close enough to use Star Platinum against your enemy.

“Star Platinum. The World!” he said, stopping time and letting Kira have a taste of Star Platinum’s punches.

Before he let time flow again, he gently picked your body up in his arms and stepped far enough from the explosion Killer Queen would have caused moments later. Shielding you with his own body, time started to flow again. You looked at him smiling, gratefully crouching yourself onto his chest, trying your best to recover some energie and enjoying the warmth of his body.

“Thanks for always being my hero.”

Jotaro couldn’t help but smile hearing those words, shaking his head in response.

“I just returned you a favour.”, he added.

Two weeks passed by since the defeat of Yoshikage Kira.

You and Jotaro decided to stay in Morio-cho a bit longer than what you originally planned. The time spent together allowed you to discuss your mutual feelings and, after a long night of passion and love, you started dating.

It was awkward at first. You and Jotaro never really officialised your relationship; you just let things between you evolve naturally, preferring a physical love language over words – what united the two of you wasn’t something that could have been easily described. However, he eventually confessed you that he had loved you since your trip in Egypt, receiving a: “I did too, idiot.” in response.

As time went by, you and Jolyne managed to build a strong, beautiful bond – so much, she’d start to refer to you as a parental figure and nothing less. Jotaro loved seeing the two of you together; you were the people he loved the most, and he was happy his little daughter liked you as much as he always did.

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alyssa-orowane · 4 years

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Fantasy tropes to avoid (and ideas to reinvent them)

Hello aspiring writers of Tumblr! How is it going?

This is my first post on here and I decided to dedicate it not only to the genre I am writing in, fantasy, but also to a crucial topic, which relates and affects every genre in different ways.

TROPES.

It's lazy to build stories on something that has already been written a million times before. I don't like tropes at all as a reader. If I wanted to read the same stereotyped story all over again I would just stick to the previous book I have read with that same plot, so I would also spare myself the trouble of learning the unpronounceable names of these new stereotyped characters.

On the other hand, as a writer it might be tempting to give in and use tropes. "Why not? After all everybody uses them and I am already SO busy writing the actual chapters of my story."

I tell you what: every time a trope threatens to slide into your story, crush the page and throw it across the room, yelling:

Seriously, though: tropes are just general, undeveloped ideas. That's what you need to do, develop them. In this way only will you ever be able to unleash their hidden potential.

Without further ado, may I present you three of the most common fantasy tropes and hints to reimagine them.

*Keep in mind that this is only my personal view on the subject and you can either agree or disagree with it.

1. The chosen one

This one is the most obvious one and I am also quite sure that you expected to find it on the list. Interesting, Watson: I guess that it makes this article stereotyped too…

Well we all know those characters. Those characters that were meant to be the one. The prophecies had spoken about them long before they were even born. They might as well be the only one capable of using magic or wielding a certain weapon. This character is either the only one who pushes forward the storyline or that one protagonist who does everything except choosing anything actively in the plot. There is no in between. Either way, they only possess notable qualities. Of course there is no trace of flaws. I mean, they are the hero.

Have a side-kick (or co-protagonist) be the chosen one instead

A great idea, if you really want to insert this trope in your story, is to use it to your advantage and surprise the reader with it. Who could ever expect that the protagonist was actually never the chosen one? Or that another character is the chosen one from the start?

To see this trope well recreated I recommend watching the BBC TV series "Merlin" in which a young sorcerer, Merlin himself, must help the future heir to the throne, the prince Arthur Pendragon, to fulfill his destiny and become the greatest king who has ever lived. Arthur has no clue of what has been foretold, nor that he even is at the centre of a prophecy. All of Merlin and Arthur's choices will determine either the glorious success or the tragic failure of the quest; all of this while Merlin hides his powers from Arthur and everyone else as magic is condemned in Camelot.

2. Overused fantasy Races

...which translates mostly into putting Elves, Dwarves, Trolls, dragons and any of the Tolkenian elements and creatures in your own story. Now, don't get me wrong. Tolkien is one of my favourite authors, hence I am always captivated by those fantasy novels that display these Races in their stories. But I don't want to read a copy, I want to read your own masterpiece.

That's exactly why you should:

Redesign the well-known fantasy Races and adapt them to your world and to your theme or just create brand new ones

Personally, I absolutely LOVE to craft new fantasy Races. I believe that it adds depth and realism to the world-building (which does not consist only of geography). Each civilisation brings their culture, their traditions to your story and that's what makes a world truly breathe. In my opinion, the purpose of fantasy is not to focus just on the epic deeds narrated or on endless battles enriched with magic and legends, though those are very important part of this genre and they must be just as equally developed. The reason why I write fantasy is to spread awareness around the vast variety of themes that coexist in our society nowadays, in the first place global warming, the racism that still today people experience, LGBTQ characters which are often unrepresented both in literary fiction and TV. What better genre than fantasy is there to represent diversity and multiculturalism? On these latter points I will never not be thanking and loving the works of Steven Erikson which are part of the high-fantasy series "Malazan Book of the Fallen". Diversity and the brand new variety of intriguing Races are a huge part of what makes Malazan such an awesome fantasy series. I refer to Steven Erikson as the main inspiration of my writing and I recommend you to give a try to his books, if you have the chance. I warn you though, that it is not any light or easy reading.

The other option might be to reinvent the well-known Races. Tolkien himself did not "invent" the Elves of Middle Earth, rather he made a legend of his own after having studied the myths and ballads of ancient civilities. Then he developed their language, their history and their culture as if they were a real existing population. Every single aspect of Tolkien's worldbuilding can be read in his Silmarillion. I think it is a must-read for anyone who is looking forward to reinvent the traditional fantasy Races or just to know more about them.

3. Unfailing magic systems

Magic can be anything you want. That doesn't mean, however, that it should be your escape point: stuff in your story should happen because of your characters, not only because of magic as it is simpler to put it that way. A magic system should be rational and engaging. The reader needs to be able to understand exactly how, when and why does magic work in your world. No, the answer should not be "because it's fantasy."

Set rules, limits and costs to the magic in your world

How do character gain magic abilities? Is magic accessible to everyone or is it elitist? Is it taught in specialised schools or is it something that resonates from within? Are wizards free to practice magic or is it banned? Or maybe are there only specific areas of magic that are prohibited? What is its source? Does magic come from higher beings or are spells more powerful the stronger the mage's will? Does magic need a catalyst (such as a talisman, a weapon etc.) to be casted? If not, do wizard recite spells? Do they need to trace specific symbols? Otherwise is it necessary to make specific hand gestures in order to release their powers? Does it exist only one system for all mages to use or are there multiple kinds? Last but not least, what are magic users in your world called? It's all up to you to decide. Ask questions and let each question lead you to another one. You need to know exactly how your magic system works and so does the reader.

What I love about crafting magic systems is the freedom to establish the boundaries and the natural laws that apply to your world, as magic is a huge part of the story if you're writing fantasy. Well, this could also lead to another question: is your world actually ruled by magic forces or do magic abilities have just a marginal role in the world building?

Remember that magic should not be used as an excuse to fill eventual plot holes in your story. Your magic system should function correctly and it should always stay true to itself. In other words, it must be believable.

And I can hear you thinking "but it‘s magic!"

Then guess what? You need to make the readers believe that magic is real!

First of all, set the rules, the limits and the costs that apply to your system. Having done that, you'll have finished most of the work that concerns the use of magic in your world. Most, not all. If you are a bit of a perfectionist like I am, consider the importance of developing your system furthermore by asking yourself questions, such as the one I have written above.

Rules: decide what makes your system work and what magic can be casted for.

Limits: decide what kind of tasks your magic system cannot perform.

Costs: decide from what kind of source is magic obtained from and, literally, what does it cost to mages to obtain their magic from this source (as Rumpelstiltskin of OUAT wisely says: "all magic comes with a price.")

The most excellent and well-rounded magic systems I have ever come across are the ones created by Brandon Sanderson in this "Mistborn" trilogy: allomancy, feruchemy and hemalurgy. All three magic system permit the magicians to use a wide range of abilities based on the metals they can "burn". Magic originates in the Shards and from Preservation and Ruin, two god-like beings. If you're already interested, I definitely recommend you to check Sanderson's novels out: they are a useful resource of inspiration.

I hope this post has somehow given you the inspiration to go and write right now.  If you have questions about some of the points or requests for the next articles, don't be shy and send me a message! I will try to cover your topic as soon as possible and as best as I can (and I will also tag your profile, if you agree).  Thank you all for your attention. Bisous^^

#books #fantasy #writing #steven erikson #malazan book of the fallen #bbc merlin #mistborn #brandon sanderson #tolkien #silmarillion #fantasy tropes #writing advice #chosen one #magic system #fantasy races

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chucklestheechidona · 4 years

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Red Dwarf: USA

AKA: One week into isolation and a Welshman drunkenly types out his most controversial opinion

One of the first sci-fi shows I ever watched, at least, without realising it was science fiction, before even Star Trek, of which I vividly remember seeing Patrick’s face and voice on my thick arse grey heavier-than-sin Television, would have been that of the 1988 comedy - Red Dwarf.

I didn’t watch it live of course, I was born in 1993, by the time I could actually start remembering things the show had already ended. Like many people, I watched it on someone’s recorded VHS tape, among others in our house such as Duckman. Like Duckman, Red Dwarf was a bit out of my depth, but I liked it all the same. Some of the jokes landed and the slapstick and (not)aliens were enough to capture my attention.

Of course, I grew older, my appreciation for the show changed over time. The jokes obviously landed a lot more, but what I appreciated more was the character building, the acting, the writers and the cast having an appreciation, even through troubled shooting or grievances, towards what they were working through.

As anyone would expect though, I have my thoughts on where the series’s high’s ended, can see the flaws in some writing and some episodes, and overall the direction it headed after series 6, but yet, it still holds a special place in my heart.

Something I didn’t figure out until I was much older was the existence of a USA version. There was a pilot, then a failed attempt at another pilot/episode 2, and it was never heard from again.

Anyone from Britain could have told you this was a terrible idea from the start, anyone who’s watched it will tell you how awful it is.

In a DVD extra on one of the boxsets, both writers lamented what could have been if things went right, the misery of working in an American environment which didn’t appreciate the British insight. Rob, who plays Kryten, speaks about how the American cast thought the script the American execs were pushing on them to be terrible. But Rob got paid a lot of money to eat food and do some scenes, so he enjoyed it for the most part.

But if you like Red Dwarf, you already know this. If you didn’t, thanks for staying with me.

There are many reasons for why Red Dwarf USA didn’t work. “You can’t just take a British thing and try and localise it.”

Yet The Office USA is a massive hit, and has its fan-base here.

Craig Charles, as in, Lister’s actor, reckoned it was because of a lack of a class system, although Doug, one of the writers, would disagree.

I get Craig’s feelings, mind you. In the UK, I have more in common with people who are on the same pay-grade as me than anything stupid like race, sex or religion. Which isn’t to say there aren’t those divides in the country, but the class system is very heavy here. The Lower and Working class bond knowing they’re working harder than those above for not as much pay.

But as Doug says, the people on Always Sunny/Malcolm in the Middle aren’t the same people who are on Friends/Frasier, for example. He uses a different example, for it’s an old documentary, but the point still stands. There is class in America, even if it’s implemented differently in media and IRL

(As an aside, Malcolm in the Middle was fantastic.)

Craig Bierko (the USA Craig and the USA Lister) said it was just a mistake to do, that they shouldn’t have even tried to localise an exceptional program. I mean, he partook in it, but the actor had to eat and food isn’t free.

But after all that, here’s the thing.

I think it could have worked.

It would need heavy editing mind you. A proper look into why it didn’t work in the first place. More of a look into an American future, rather than a future which was (despite original intentions) still heavily British.

The jokes would need localising, the actors would need a bit of a workaround in terms of personality, but here’s why I started this.

Where the story would go next.

Dave Lister (UK) was a happy-go-lucky carefree scouser, who worked as little as possible, chased impossible dreams while playing a guitar he never put any actual time into learning. He got along with people quite well, despite being on the bottom of the pecking order. He got in trouble with authority, but he was doing it out of good intentions.

This was mostly to balance out his bunkmate, Rimmer, who was in every way opposite. He was a stressed pent up ball of worry and anger, who had one dream and one goal only, of which he failed constantly. He was liked by no-one, the only person he was above (Lister) he took extreme measures to exercise the little power he had.

On an aside, UK Lister wasn’t conventionally attractive. Craig Charles is a good looking bloke mind you, he’s not ugly, but his looks managed to sell the underdog achiever. He looked very much the part of a low-life Liverpudlian drunk. (despite being a wordsmith and successful poet in real life, not to mention his impressive DJ’ing)

USA Lister however, was played by this HUNK.

Dave Lister USA was shown to be the same kind of person, but hinted at was his more roguish cheeky nature. A more... American view. While Lister UK, when talking to his crush, would be almost awkward, never really sharing many words with her, despite being madly in love with her, Lister US had gone out with Kochanski.

(True, UK did past series 5, but a retcon to match the books is still a retcon)

Lister US was cheeky, cocky, a bit arrogant to Kochanski. He hadn’t taken the relationship seriously. She was a Flight Navigation Officer, he was the lowest rank on the ship, a Third Technician. He had no aspirations, no dreams. He had a plan, much like our Lister, but hadn’t even seemed to save up pay for it. He mentions it once in passing to Kryten at the start, but the way he talked to Kristine, the way he spoke about it to Kryten, it seemed that he’d given up, more than our more hopeless UK Lister.

UK Kristine knew Lister but had hardly shared words with him, and it was all Lister’s fault, as Kris would have been kind enough to actually talk to him. UK Lister’s story overall is of a man who had the chance to be better, but gave himself excuses why he couldn’t, or didn’t. UK Lister could have talked to Kris at any time, but had been his own obstacle.

USA Kristine however, had had USA Lister actually get her to go out with him. It was nice, they still talk. But Kris had ended it. Kris had career aspirations, and Lister had not.

(This kept close to the UK books, but UK Kris had somewhat used UK Lister as a rebound. It was still a nice enough break-up, but Lister then careens down into depression. Unlike AmeriLister who’s optimistic he can pick it back up. Gotta love America and their hope.)

This culminated in the final scene we see of pre-accident Kris, where she sees David did a noble gesture by sacrificing himself to save his cat, and (even though oddly paced) tells David she loved him.

Heat of the moment it may be, but USA Lister immediately cracks, telling the crew that he’d give up the cat’s location. It’s played for laughs obviously, but maybe this is what’s more important to USA Lister.

But these very differences, like angles, could stretch further than just copying the show. By leading on from what made AmeriDave different than BritiDave.

What I would do

First, we make USA Lister stand out more. His dress attire seemed Han Solo-esque, so let’s put a bit of that personality into him. This Lister, would have been an under-acheiver his whole life, maybe after the event, he wouldn’t be. This Lister would be brought back with a new sense of determination. He has to prove to Kochanski, Rimmer, his Cat and Holly that he’s no longer this Third Technician, he was capable of getting back the human race.

Where UK Lister (at least, in the show) would try and see in what ways he could kill time, in a sobering kind of malaise that strikes a man three million years into deep space, USA Lister would be trying to get his head around how to get back. In the final part of the show, after they see their future selves, he knows he actually has to do something. Back to earth? Sure, he wouldn’t know, and finding out would be hard, but USA Lister would actually have to learn to apply himself early.

This doesn’t sound like Lister! (or more accurately, isn’t this just the Book Lister) British people like seeing despair. We long to see Del Boy fail, we want to see Basil Fawlty have a meltdown. Americans have hope. They want to see Ross get with Rachel, they long to see their hero win. Or if he can’t win, have a snarky comment about it. We want to see UK Rimmer and Lister fail in their attempts to get back, because it’s funny. USA have hope. They’d want to see Lister get home.

USA Rimmer would make learning hell for USA Lister. Rimmer, thinking he knows more, would foil the attempts at Lister, but not out of malice, out of incompetence on Rimmer’s part. “Thermodynamics, let me teach you, Dave, no-one’s taken that test more than I have!” Que the failed test.

Unfortunately, the Cat, Kryten, Holly and Rimmer in the US version are almost all carbon-copies of their UK counterpart. I haven’t thought this through enough, obviously. They’d have to be changed, Episode 1 would have to be rewritten, but with changes in mind.

I’d have USA Lister be an actual hero, but a kinda useless one who takes a while to get things done, consulting with his equally useless crew. Rimmer, to be a dick, but with a lot of the bitterness taken out (because American’s can’t really pull it off), but with the same inferiority complex. He’d make hell for Lister, but under the genuine reason of “I want to see you do better. (cause right now you’re an embarrassment to the human species)“ The last human, trained by the best of what was left of humanity. Or at least, Rimmer would see it that way.

The rest of the cast could be figured out later. Honestly, too much like their counterparts. I guess that was the point of the show when they tried to release it, it was only a localisation after all.

Conclusion

We’ll never know what Rob and Doug wrote that the other actors liked, I doubt a copy was kept after it was butchered by the Americans.

But I think what little made it different, was the bit where it shone. Sure, shone as in behind 4 panes of glass and a sheet of paper, but still, it could have been something.

I’m a sucker for “What could have been.” Even for money-grabbing USA executive schemes such as trying to make RD: USA

And hey, maybe it could have. And I like all that alternative stuff. When Mortal Kombat actually included bits from the movies, that made me smile. If Sonic ever had a nod to Fleetway, I’d be happy enough.

Maybe one day we’ll have an alternative Lister played by Craig Bierko, and he’d be an actual space-wanderer hero. And then our UK Lister can call him smug smeghead. And he’d be right.

(About USA Lister, not Bierko)

Final Conclusion

The word count on this went way out of hand. This killed an afternoon and I’m stuck in my house, I have a backlog a mile long to go through

Need to finish ‘Off’, ‘Torchwood’, DW, and possibly watch some Red Dwarf before the new one is out.

Thanks for listening to my rant.

Smegheads

#Red Dwarf #USA #Lister #Rimmer #Kochanski

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emptyespada · 5 years

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UlquiNel drabble ~ taken from Discord

{ Please keep in mind this is copy-pasting long messages from both writers so honestly idk what’s it gonna look like, ONE PARA = ONE MESSAGE FROM ONE MUN }

{ also tagging peeps who wanted to read it @svnshinex @lordsosukeaizen @glacies-tempestatem and the other mun - @raggedyespada }

They said that there was a thin line between love and hate- and perhaps, that was true. Both involved 'caring' for someone. Either caring enough to have the energy to hate them, or caring enough to have the energy to admire them. She fell in the latter category when it came to the Quatro. “During our missions for Aizen, he had always been steadfastly loyal and never... not even once... caused unnecessary damage or bloodshed. Perhaps... he was not as heartless as he thought he was. No. In fact,” she thought, “underneath that loneliness, there lay a lot of love that he possibly longed to offer someone. Or at the very least, he ought to relieve some of that loneliness in her favorite place.” She lifted her eyes over to his, gesturing towards the corner of the library. "This is my favourite place in Las Noches." And one could see why. It was a blank room filled with white shelves- all piled high with an assortment of books. "A book is a type of friend that you can always share your troubles with.... they never judge us, so we should never judge them," Nelliel informed him with a fond smile as she stroked the spine of a book.

Ulquiorra had not seen it coming, the way they agreed, connection, similarities, possible attraction. Nelliel was an Arrancar he spent most of his time lately, started out as missions ordered by superiors, then talking to each other if they happened to be in the same part of the castle, and now there were meetings. Cuatro always found the books to be interesting and a good way to spend free time, if he had any that is. He has never been into the library simply because he was busy with many assignments by Aizen, but now he wasn't so hellbent on fulfilling tasks he didn't need to. He looked around for a bit and then back to Nel, listening to her words carefully. "Interesting way to put it. I assume you're here quite often then?"

Nelliel was here often. Usually she read, even when she was assigned on missions. Especially when these missions involved saving Nnoitra's self. He was always up to mischief . However, it changed when she got more assignments with Ulquiorra. He was calm and usually never tried to fight her. He was a lot better at accepting things that weren't his fault. "Mm... Yeah. I like making friends... But I don't like to fight," she sighed.

Making friends is something Ulquiorra has seen as absolutely futile, but since it was a metaphor for books he let it slip without voicing his attitude. He could understand her about not fighting, he can be violent and gruesome as much as Aizen desires him to be in order to fulfill a mission, but he finds no pleasure in it, it is a duty and nothing more. "It is something that can't be avoided in this world of ours." He said almost casually but there was a hidden meaning behind the statement, something among 'don't disobey Aizen' lines "What is the last book you read?"

Nelliel hated violence. It was something she had been surrounded by all her life and now that she felt like she was above such things, there was no need to take part in anything so uncouth. So... Disgusting. She abhorred threatening behavior. Instead, she enjoyed people using their minds. And she liked Ulquiorra's curiosity. A keen intellect and somehow, she did not think he would remain the cuatro for long. "The happy prince. A statue with rubies and gold and gives all of his things away to make life easier for others. You would like it."

Spending time with Nelliel actually felt quite comfortable, he felt like he could be completely open with her and drop his cold facade for a bit. "If you say so." He shrugged slightly and looked around some more, the place seemed nice- big but comfy and private, he highly doubted any other Arrancar would bother them here. "Is it a book from World of the Living?"

Nelliel offered him a smile, enthusiastic as she spoke of her true love of words from the book of the living. She's laughing at his naivety. "Ulquiorra... The only people that write are those who have stories. And don't you know? Dead people tell no tales." Her eyes are sad and understanding, but her smile is still upon her face. She's pushing a book into his hand now. It's in a different language and she's holding his fingers underneath the book still. "You like the silence and I love these words... Maybe one day we can write a story."

He raised an eyebrow at her laughing at his statement, he didn't understand the reasoning behind it but decided not to question it since by now he learned she had no bad meaning, she was probably just amused by something. He doesn't quite understand the words she's saying, was she implying only humans write? It made him wonder do the Arrancars have anything worth writing down for someone to read. Or perhaps it was the opposite, he could never be 100% sure with Neliel. He accepts the book he's given, gently running his hand over the covers. If she liked it it was probably a good read and worth giving time to. Green eyes move to her again soon, slightly confused at her statement, but instead of asking he just nods a bit. "I can't say I understand, but I would be a liar if I said it doesn't sound interesting "

"Your sincerity is nice, Ulquiorra," she complimented him. Even if he did not understand, the fact that he was trying to- that effort alone- was worth every single word in this library alone. She flashed him another understanding smile and let her fingers leave his hands. He probably could not begin to understand everything that was running through her mind, but it was all fine. After all, didn't they have plenty of time to explore these things? "... Why do you follow me, Ulquiorra?"

"You invited me to come along, I simply thought this would be an entertaining way to spend my time." He shrugs slightly although he has a feeling that's not quite what she meant, but he didn't really feel like answering to it if she made herself clear.

Nelliel nodded. "I did, I think you are.. not as violent as the rest of our kind. I feel like we get along."

"I would agree with that statement." It's not like he had much choice anyway, was he supposed to lie? "I find you a pleasant company unlike others that act with such a disgusting attitude considering their high position." If there is something Ulquiorra is not fond of that is definitely individuals being regraded with respect while they would barely give any to Aizen, trash.

"You are correct. I can't abide by senseless slaughter..." Nelliel glanced over at Ulquiorra. She knew that this was not the norm for their kind. Arrancar sought battle. They sought that glory. "Ulquiorra... what do you seek in life?"

Her question did catch him slightly off guard, though he refused to show it anyhow, and doesn't hesitate to utter an answer almost automatically, like a programmed robot. "My only purpose here is to serve Aizen-sama." If she were anyone less generous than who she was, she would have been crushed by his answer. However, she could only offer him her usual, gentle look. She placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb running down his green estigma lines. "And?"

You could actually pinpoint a moment when Ulquiorra's pupils went wide at the sudden touch. They were on good terms yes, but this... Cuatro isn't comfortable with unnecessary touching in general, but didn't back away, although he could literally feel his blood flow increase its pace by each moment. "There is no an and, I've told you my answer."

"I see..." she breathes out a sigh then and lets her fingers drop from his face. Perhaps she had been foolish to assume that he... held any fondness for her. After all, his devotion was entirely towards Aizen. Nelliel understood it and yet... it did make her feel a little sad. "Well then... I hope you enjoy the book, Ulquiorra. You should have more of a purpose than to serve others. You aren't just made to serve."

He lets out a breath he's been holding for a few moments when her hand was on his cheek. It brought him small relief, though he wasn't exactly glad, when she moved it away. "Aizen-sama created all of us solely for the purpose of assisting him in his goal."

"No... he did not create us, Ulquiorra. You and I existed long before Aizen-Sama came. He assembled us together. Gave us a reason... that is true... but we were here before that," she elaborated with her usual smile.

"We were bloodthirsty beasts before Aizen-sama, Nelliel." He says in a cold voice, probably not the best thing to say but it was a simple truth, they were both Vasto Lordes, Hollows made of thousands of souls and following only their animalistic ways.

"That's true. I am grateful to Aizen-Sama for allowing me to become something other than an animal..." she agreed quietly. "But it does not mean that was our only desire." "But it is our duty, and duty we have towards Aizen-sama is more important than what we might sought for ourselves." He pointed out, not really sure why exactly they would have such a deep discussion. "Is there another answer you want from me?"

Nelliel tilted her head, regarding him with something like curiosity once more. So that was how loyal he was to Aizen, then? His duty... he could not forget it even for a moment, could he? She wouldn't make him uncomfortable and so she shook her head. "No... if it's not in your head, then we don't need an answer. Ulquiorra... I'll protect you."

Protection? What would he need protection from? Did she doubt his abilities and doing it on his own? But it probably wasn't about something physical since she despised violence above all. "I need no protection." His voice is cold and dead, void of any emotion as ever.

Yes. He did. After all, she was stronger than him. Her hands were gentle once more as she held his cheeks. "I will still be on your side."

His eyes widen once again, seriously considering moving away but somehow managed to stay still. The touch felt so foreign, so unknown, something he could simply not comprehend. "Are you implying you would get blood on your hands for me?"

Nelliel caught the look on his face, almost haunted, if only he were capable of feeling that. She was grateful he didn't move away or dismiss her declaration. Instead, she leaned closer, pressing her forehead to his. "What I want to say is that... I won't let anyone hurt you."

Another form of touch occurred once her forehead was leaned against his, and his breath immediately hitched. Why was she doing this? All this, physical affection thing? It was something definitely new to Cuatro, not necessarily bad but definitely weird. He wonders why doesn't he just say the words back, he doesn't mind getting his hands dirty whatsoever if needed, and if there was someone he'd have to protect it would be Nelliel. "Why are you telling me all of this now?"

She knew this sort of closeness wasn't something they shared often. If at all. But now that they were in her safest place in Las Noches, apart from her room, she wanted to let down some of her walls. She also wanted to let Ulquiorra know that he was valuable to her. "Because we are... alike. We don't belong like the rest of the Arrancar... but we do belong here. And we are friends."

Friends? Ulquiorra wouldn't consider what they had between them friendship, not because he didn't care about her or anything alike, it's just that Ulquiorra does not know what being friends exactly is like, how would he know anyway? Anyone could tell any lame-ass definition of it and he'd buy it, but he wasn't too fond of the topic in general, since the only thing he knew about it is that it includes emotion, something that was a big no-no for him. "Where exactly do we belong then, Nelliel?" Sure there was a lot of similarities between specifically two of them and other Arrancar, but is that a reason to isolate from them even more?

"I don't know... " She sighed. This time, she withdrew from him entirely. This was probably too much, too fast. Whilst she desperately needed a friend that was not afraid or disgusted by her... she could not pressure Ulquiorra to become close to her. Even if she longed for it. She stood up gracefully, dusting her uniform and then grinned at him. "You look so serious, Ulquiorra. I am not such a terrible friend, am I?"

The slight relief washes over him once she steps back, even though he just started to get used to the feeling. "You are anything but terrible to me, Nelliel." His tone is barely a shade softer than it had initially been, and someone who hasn't spent much time with him probably wouldn't have noticed. "You, you are a good friend, an only friend." Maybe, just maybe, he would try to see it from her side, and let her show him what that friendship actually is

Whilst she was sad that Ulquiorra had no fraccion to fight beside him, or to even keep him company, she was honored to consider herself one of his friends. And to be acknowledged by Ulquiorra was such a momentous thing that she immediately threw her arms around him in a tight bear hug. "ULQUIORRA?! REALLY?!" She gushed, excited and even squeezed him tighter. "I'm so happy to hear that!"

The hug, especially one of Nelliel's trademark hugs, was definitely unexpected, and he stilled on the spot as though he was petrified. "...Did the protection you mentioned earlier apply to suffocation too?" It felt like she was gripping him with the same force she used to fight. Only after a few moments, slowly but surely, his arms loosely moved to rest on her back, barely touching the surface.

“Ulquiorra is such a funny little thing sometimes.” Nelliel resisted the urge to squeeze him even tighter and instead, nuzzled his cheek with her own. She loved giving out hugs, though most could not handle them. At least he had the strength to even return it. One day, she wondered if he would hug her back? But... to have a friend hug her... it was so good. "O-Oh... sorry, are you... are you okay?" She loosened her hold on him, peering at him in concern. "Ulquiorra?"

The feeling of her cheek on his was such a new territory, and although it definitely lit a certain spark inside him it still felt weird. "I believe I've handled more dangerous situations." He responded to both of her questions with the same answer, although a simple yes would have worked too. "If I may ask, Nelliel, is there a reason for you initiating so much physical contact today?"

Nelliel was beginning to see him with a lot more fondness than she would have had even a few weeks ago. Truly it seemed that with time, she has learned a great deal about Ulquiorra. "Because it's what friends doooo~!" She laughed, taking his hand and twirling under it.

Now a hand, in the name of Aizen, so much weird and unexpected touching for him today. He doesn't know how exactly friendship works, so he can't exactly say that her putting her hand on his cheek or leaning her forehead against his is something people that are more than ‘friends’ do, he just had that feeling. "If you say so, Nelliel." He was almost sure it was more than what just friends do, something he could not prove nor compare to another friendship he had, maybe it was just a hidden and unconscious wish caused by spending so much time with her lately.

Hazel eyes kept meeting him as she faced him after every twirl and finally, she let go of him, just spinning on her lonesome. "You should dance with me some time, Ulquiorra! It's better than fighting!" Unfortunately, when tried to shimmy backwards, she was knocked over a desk and yelped. "Kyaa!!" She fell straight on her back, rubbing her head. "Oww..." Normally, this would not have caused as much embarrassment, except that... for the Tres to suddenly lose her balance... she flushed, grinning again. "Looks like we're all falling for you."

He watched her spin around and couldn't help but get a bit warm feeling inside of him, one he could not describe. It was like he was happy to be seeing her at this very moment, and watching her made him feel somehow... good? Like she had no worries in the whole world, so free and beautiful. "Gomen, I don't dance." She, and he, dancing? It as one of the last things he'd ever imagine himself doing with anyone, and found it weird how the comment was somehow out of the blue. For some reason he couldn't react quick enough to catch her when she fell but immediately moved to her side. "Are you alright?" He asked as he got down on one knee beside her, it was almost unconscious action, he had the natural need to check if she was alright, which she seemed to be except for the deep shade of red on her face. ‘Looks like we're all falling for you’ What was that supposed to mean? Was it because she hit her head? "Perhaps you should lay down on the couch, you are red in face and not exactly talking ordinarily."

Nelliel waved aside his concern and shook her head. She got up on her own and flashed him another smile. Ulquiorra was so clueless, even though she had been making her feelings so obvious. But... she supposed he could not help it. Things like... affection and other feelings, were foreign to the Espada. "Hmm... perhaps I will lay down, hehe, too much dancing?" "...Yes... too much dancing." He mumbled and got lost in his thoughts for a few moments, Nelliel was such an enigma, everything around her happens so fast even her mood was hard to follow, but unlike with other similar situations, he actually wanted to know more. "Here, lay down." He said pointing to one of many sofas in the library and this one was just a few steps away from them. "Would you want me to make you tea?"

He was still nice, despite his... disinterest (?) in her. She supposed just being friends with him was good enough. He was good company and she enjoyed the fact that he wasn't insecure about his strength. He was willing and thoughtful in his own way. They worked well together. She lay down on the sofa that he had pointed out, an arm over her masked head and wondered if there was such a thing as happiness that they could attain. She turned to face him. "I don't want tea... I want to sit with you."

He raised an eyebrow at her request, fining it somehow odd and maybe even attributing it to her fall a few seconds ago, but he believed Espada like her had to get a much harder hit to mess something up in her head. Slowly and carefully, he made his ways towards the sofa and sat beside where her waist was, emerald eyes locking down on hazel ones. "Is there something you wish to discuss with me?"

Ah. He may be oblivious to her feelings, but not to her general sense of self. She still lay on the sofa, glancing at Ulquiorra who had now taken a seat beside her body. She knew she took up a lot of room, but Ulquiorra was still polite enough to sit beside her. She offered him a mild smile. "What do you think of me, Ulquiorra?"

The question wasn't a complete surprise considering her usual act most of the time. Not having to think too much, he answers pretty quickly. "You are someone I, above all, respect as a warrior and superior. I am aware that you have a sharp mind and skills good enough to conquer any nation you want." That's where he stops for a moment, that is Nelliel that is presented to everyone, but there were parts of her she didn't share quite so openly. "I admire your self-control in a battle, you are calm often but I actually do not mind you behaving more care-free when we are alone, and you are only delighting company around here." So, in short, not a trash.

She had heard this spiel before. Great warrior. Excellent fighter. Brilliant strategist. It sounded like Aizen had fed these words to Ulquiorra to regurgitate towards her. Nelliel sighed when he paused. So... she was just a superior to him. She blinked when he continued. Admire? Ulquiorra admired the things that infuriated so many others? That... those flaws of hers that she couldn't hide at all. Nelliel found a soft smile appearing on her face. "Thank you, Ulquiorra. You have a good heart. And my own can't help but relax around yours. Your company... it's so pleasant. I wish I could share it all day and night."

{ mun’s note: IC: I have a good what? }

He was about to deny the existence of the alleged heart but he waited for her to finish speaking and once she did all the thoughts about the heart disappeared from his mind as the realization hit him- what Neliel was doing all along. Was she seeking a relationship with him? Relationship with Cuatro Espada, Ulquiorra Cifer, seemed almost impossible in theory. They were on pretty good terms but this... this was really unexpected, she actually saw something in him worth an effort? Even if she did he certainly didn't, he would have never imagined to be in this situation. Top ranking, and only female, Espada, one everyone feared and admired, and he did hear occasional comments about her hot body here and there, actually wanted something with him? His gaze adverts from hers, mostly down to the rest of her but simply to avoid eye contact. "Don't do that to yourself." He whispered quietly.

Yes. She was. Her hazel eyes waited for the penny to drop and she managed a little smile at his almost-shy response. He did not look... pleased. She supposed she ought to have expected this. No man enjoyed a more powerful woman as a mate. It was lonely in a sense, but... she was a forgiving person. "I like you... but if you are not interested, I will not mention this again, Ulquiorra."

"It's not about that." He responded almost automatically to her ‘not interested’ comment and moved his gaze back to hers. "We are Espada, with a lot of work to concentrate on." It was not an excuse it was just the truth, Ulquiorra treasures his duty to Aizen above everything else, Nelliel has been a distraction, a really pleasant one, so far. He couldn't even imagine how less focused on work he would be. Besides they are so different, she believes in emotion, she believes in the heart. "You could do better than me anyway."

Ulquiorra's gaze was stoic as usual and she could not read him as easily as she could the books in this library. If only... but she could not force him to like or enjoy her presence. She only offered him a mild and kind smile. She knew how important Aizen was to Ulquiorra and would not want to impose. "... I only want you. There is nobody better in my eyes, but I think I have been presumptuous. I'm sorry, Ulquiorra, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Her words echoed in his mind a few times before actually registering them. She actually felt that way about him? Nelliel, in fact, considered him to be the best option for her? Ulquiorra honestly couldn't wrap his mind around it, he never thought anyone would even like him - he was cold, denied the existence of the emotions ( even though it was really hard to keep that stand while with Tres ) keeping mostly to himself, and considered almost everyone trash. Why would someone so kind like Nelliel even show interest in him? They did have common points and he enjoyed her company, so it wasn't weird to assume she liked it as well, but an actual relationship? "I would not be able to give you what you want." He didn't exactly even knew what it was, but it had to include emotions, which he was not capable of. "That is the reason above everything else."

"Do you not feel anything for me?" She inquired, probing him a little more each time. The Espada... the fourth... “he always assumed that he didn't have emotions. That there was nothing inside his empty chest... but that was not possibly true.” She liked his restraint. She was attracted to his mind and his resurrecion was powerful. She believed he had the potential to do a lot more.. and be a lot more. Except... maybe not to her. "I think you forget what I said. What I want is you... but if you cannot be with... a woman who carries my rank... then I understand." No man enjoyed it if the woman under him could defeat him in battle. It hurt their pride. Their attraction... She was glancing back towards him and placed a hand over his cheek. "You are kinder than you think, Ulquiorra."

He froze on the spot at her question, the automatic response would be 'no', because he does not feel, he can't allow himself to, but now... he found the answer to be... pretty hard? Did he enjoy her company? Yes. Would he be opposed to more of it? No. Did he find her attractive? Yes, but physical looks meant next to nothing to him if he wasn't fond of the individual's personality, which was definitely not s case with Nelliel. Was he attracted to her? She seemed to somehow draw him towards her... Even without any effort, just being herself, she awoke this feeling inside of him, a wish to be closer. But was it a real wish or something else? Is that what a feeling is supposed to be? "I... I don't know, Nelliel, but I can't say it's nothing." The truth, wasn't the worst response he could give her, but he was aware she knew him well enough to know that emotions aren't exactly his field of expertise, and won't take it the wrong way. When her rank was mentioned he immediately shook his head his, he didn't want her to assume his thoughts, especially about her. "That is not the case at all. Your power is something I admire about you, I would never see it as a downside of anything." Once her hand was on his cheek he stilled on the spot, he could actually feel his blood race faster through him and he looked down at her, his own hand gently moving over her own. "You are the only one that thinks that, meaning you are either incomprehensibly naive or dangerously intelligent."

“I will take that response,” she replied graciously. At least… it was not nothing. She felt heartened by his admission - it must have taken a lot of courage for him to fight his loyalty towards Aizen, to be used as his tool… and suddenly to come to terms that he felt a friendship towards her. Nelliel was honoured. Ulquiorra’s good opinion was not easy to acquire and yet, he responded positively towards her affections. She wondered and hoped for more of course, but she should not get greedy. He was wonderfully complex… if one took the time to look. To understand. Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “I have been known for being both those things, Ulquiorra Cifer,” she’s glancing up at him still, holding his gaze for a long moment and feeling her throat run dry as his pale hand is upon her tan ones. She can feel the mildest of pink tinges upon her cheeks, fusing with her red estigma. “… ‌I truly like you. Would you like to explore this something you feel with me?”

He more of hoped than expected the response he got, Nel was warm-hearted and understanding. There she is with that smile again, that is one thing he always found somehow weird or incomprehensive about her, how could she smile so much. However a blush on her cheeks is something new, and green orbs narrow for a moment. She was a puzzle, something unknown, he could not know that he was letting himself into. Her question causes his breath to hitch, 'I truly like you', it's like he couldn't completely register that fact, and he takes a good few moments to think about his answers, although no seemed like a logical answer, he couldn't make himself say that. "...Explore how?"

Nelliel smiled around the people she liked. They put her in a consistent good mood - -and Ulquiorra always made her smile. He was thoughtful, considerate... and curious. ‘His curiosity made him gentle’, she thought. A gentle Espada... the thought was almost laughable. Except now she believed that it was true with his gentle fingers over hers. "Ulquiorra..." she's flushed now, not sure how to express it. Her hand is now moving over towards the center of his face and her thumb grazes over his lips. She's glancing away from him now, towards the floor. "I... if it is not something you desire, feel free to say no."

For a moment he focuses on the feeling of her fingers beneath his, and he wonders how long has it been since he touched another individual so delicately, with care and no bad intention. Ulquiorra usually doesn't touch people, that is something he isn't exactly fond of but Nelliel was a whole another story, the feeling was unfamiliar yes, but it didn't have to mean it's bad. His eyes lock on her face again, catching the flush and finding it somehow amusing, how the powerful Tres Espada looked so innocent at the moment. His breathing stops once her thumb moves over to his cold lips, getting whole new sort of feelings to form inside him yet he couldn't make himself express them out loud. "I know when to say no, Nelliel, do what you seem fitting."

She was powerful and with that power, came isolation. The isolation that she did not enjoy because she loved surrounding herself around people. Around other beings. And yet, he was now not shying away from her company as much as he had before. Her gaze slid back to his, she leaned forward, her mask almost crashing into his but she wasn't going to be impulsive. "May I...?" The Espada was now asking for permission, her lips hovering just inches from his.

The tension was growing heavier pretty quickly, with each inch that shrank the distance between them. He knew she wanted to kiss him for a good half a minute now but it's like he just couldn't fully let that fact sink in, that's why he stayed still and didn't react most of the time. Asking for permission wasn't completely unexpected, but he felt like he should do something as well, this way he was giving her a hard time understanding his intentions and wishes, no matter his view of these actions. Slowly, he leaned forward, his lips just gently brushing over hers, not quite yet a kiss, he didn't want to play it too fast, in case she changed her mind or something. Heart racing inside her chest, Nelliel's quietest fears are alleviated by the gentlest, softest brush of his lips against hers. They are dark, but not as cold as she had imagined. She draws him into her warmth and soon, she's kissing him with a lot more urgency than she can quite control. Her lips move softly against his, gentle at first, then coaxing his lips to move against her own. She's tilted her chin to angle it better and has moved her body to pull him closer to herself. "Ulqui...orra...."

For a first second he isn't really sure what to do with himself, did she want him to continue? Was he bad it? Was she reconsidering? About a thousand thoughts crossed through his mind but soon only one remained - how soft and warm Nelliel's lips felt. He expected her to be more of a type for some gentle, slow kiss, which was proved wrong, not that he minded, when notable vigor was added. Her lips do the perfect job of coaxing his own into more movement, and soon he completely surrendered himself to the feeling, allowing his body to move only in a natural way. "Nel..." he whispers her name against her lips between the kisses when he hears his own, his hand slowly, and unconsciously, moves up to gently rest on the side of her waist.

She had always imagined being like this with him. The images came more frequently as of late and suddenly her lips were upon his, inviting and hot as they pried his lips apart. There was no cero, no insults... just warmth and desire as pink tongue slipped out to slide against his lips. She enjoyed his attention, his mysterious beauty and... his hand on her body. Kissing him felt so unbelievably amazing. "Kiss me, Ulquiorra..." she whispered, running her hands down his back.

{ mun’s note: LMAO he WOULD cero someone else if they tried to kiss him XD }

He never imagined, in his Arrancar life that is, that being with another person like this would feel so good, whether it was the fact that this was Nelleil or the pure physical act, although it could be a combination as well. His mouth parts for her instantly once he feels her tongue on his lips, and his grip around her waist tightens a bit, as though she would slip from his arms and disappear if he wasn't kissing and holding her stronger. When he hears her request he has no choice but to oblige, gently sliding his tongue against hers and changing their position in a way her body was being lowered more down on the couch with him moving accordingly above her, lips still locked.

Nelliel had admired him for a while now and she knew that once her desires were met, they would only grow. The fire in her body, at his touch, only continued to roar inside her blood. She was flush against his body and continued to run her tongue against his, exploring the cavern of his mouth until he started responding. He was not completely... naive? She had assumed she would be the one instructing him. Her head met the back of the couch and she sighed, staring at him looming above her, lips against hers and wondered if he would continue kissing her all night. "Don't stop..." she murmured against his lips.

Having her laying down gave him a better angle to kiss her, but made the situation more intense and heated, with him completely above her, their chests pressed against each other's and now he took one of her hands in his, entangling their fingers together and pushing her down into the soft surface a bit more. The feeling of her tongue in his mouth couldn't even be described, it definitely ignited some kind of a spark inside him, something that made him want to do so much more, but that doesn't necessarily mean they will, they are just kissing for the first time after all. His own wet muscle moves against hers, and it's like she is challenging him, tempting him to do more.

With their position switched, she was now finding that she wanted more than just kisses from the Espada, but this... this was all she could ask for. She knew Ulquiorra had trouble expressing himself and so, she would be forgiving. Her eyes closed as his tongue slid against hers and she whimpered his name out, pushing her body against him with urgency. "Ul..Ulquiorra.." she's whimpering his name out as his fingers lace into hers against the back of the couch. He was... everything she was expecting and more. "Mmmh..." He found her whimpering his name to be such a wonderful sound, and moaned her own quietly in return. Her body being pushed up against his brought another new wave of sensation, sent shivers down his spine and made his blood boil at the same time. Their position was really.... convenient now, being so close; their hands conjoined, front parts pressed together, mouths locked on each other's. All of it sparked a question in his mind - did she want more? He did know her well but not exactly the kind to know what she thinks about sex, so he decided not to assume anything and just see how things go. "N-Nelliel..." He mumbled against her lips.

Her cheeks are flushed with every kiss and every slip of his tongue across hers. She's sucking on his lower lip now, grasping at her shirt with the other hand that wasn't holding his. The third Espada was exposed in a way she has not allowed many men. But for Ulquiorra, she would make every exception. She panted his name, feeling her breasts pressed to his chest and ran her soft lips along his neck. Her eyes are clouded over with tender lust as she adjusts their position just so she can untie her costume a little more. She's finally found the zip to the side and turns towards Ulquiorra. "Please... Stay with me tonight?"

The feeling of her sucking on his lower lip was so mind-numbingly good he couldn't even describe it, his eyes closed and every thought from his mind disappeared, he didn't even notice her grasping at her shirt. He found his neck to be more sensitive than his lips, and the new feeling was more intense and sensual. He was almost losing himself in lust and ecstasy but snapped out it when he noticed her adjusting their position and going for the zipper, making him almost completely sure she did want to take this a step further, but he wasn't sure did he as well, even if he did, there was no way in hell that will be in the library. "I will, but not here." Even though chances were very small, someone could still walk in on them.

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gal-liveblogs · 5 years

Text

So we start off Homestuck 2 with a picture of space. Got some green space clouds. So far nothing I would not expect. Though I see there also appears to be a spaceship of some kind, zooming through all this space. Would this be Dirk’s ship?

. . . Yep. That’s defiantly Dirk’s ship. I’m sure Theseus has some really deep, literary meaning, but the reference flies right over my head. As does most of Dirk’s references. He’s too smart for me.

I find it funny that Jake continues the tradition of emblazoning his face on his things. We saw his alt-self of Grandpa Harley doing at all the time. Dirk, of course, has to scribble out the face of his ex.

Dirk. Dirk, are you wearing a villain cape right now? Is that what you’re doing in this moment? Dirk, please.

He is totally wearing a villain cape, complete with tattered edges. He is also wearing a Heart gi, because Dirk is nothing if not anime.

Jesus Christ, I already see the paragraphs of orange under this. You’re gonna make me read all this, aren’t you. Dirk?

Dirk proves to be as verbose as ever.

So did Dirk really write out all his narration on physical pieces of paper and scatter them over his desk? Did he do that just to be Extra, or is that something he has to do as an Author now? Do they only count in the narrative text if they are actual text and not just his own thoughts?

Whatever the case may be, Rose interrupts his soliloquy.

I have it on authority that decanting is sometimes necessary to ensure a wine is at its best. I like to think that the same was ultimately true of her.

Decanting of a person’s soul sounds particularly ominous, thought I can’t express the exact reason why.

ROSEBOT: I just imagined you wearing an apron over your god tier outfit and almost felt my facial fuselage buckle in such a way as to approximate a fleeting smile.

Glad to see being a robot and also assimilating all her possible selves Rose remains a sass queen.

DIRK: Alright we get it you are literally a robot.

DIRK: No need to keep pointing it out every chance you can get. I got enough of this with the Auto Responder.

ROSEBOT: I'm just playing along.

ROSEBOT: One of the fundamentals of bad science fiction is that any artificial beings must make their inorganic nature known at every juncture they can.

DIRK: Do overly precise and completely meaningless statistics that you pull out of your ass on the fly also count?

ROSEBOT: Oh absolutely.

ROSEBOT: That's one of the first things you just sort of spontaneously learn when being booted up.

ROSEBOT: For example, I've calculated that by making these remarks I have raised the base level of amusement in all my conversations by 36%.

DIRK: Well I don't personally find them very funny.

Dirk has some trauma with robots pulling out bullshit statics. Which makes it all the more fascinating he continues to build robots that can have free thought.

Jesus Christ, it wasn’t just the lighting, Dirk’s shades really are orange now. Hussie may not have known about Kamina when he designed Bro, but Dirk always wearing Kamina glasses has just become a part of his character. So much so that they are even colored like Kamina’s instead of black now. I have to wonder, had Kamina not been a character that already existed or if people hadn’t kept pointing out that Dirk/Bro wore shades similar to an anime character, would Dirk be so anime? Is being anime just a character trait that Hussie gave him because of a funny coincidence and he wanted to play up the joke, or was he always intended to be so anime?

Also is that trashcan literally an inferno?

ROSEBOT: I just thought you might like to know that we're getting pretty close to your chosen crash site.

Do they not know how to land the ship? Does the ship not have landing gear? Do they need to crash for narrative reasons and otherwise would be perfectly capable of landing normally? Is Rose just making a joke?

DIRK: Wait, crash site??

Oh, good, Dirk is as confused as I am. So that rules out narrative reasons.

ROSEBOT: A landing gear appears to have fallen just a little outside the realm of vital.

So lacking landing gear it is! God damn it, Jake.

DIRK: (God DAMN it English.)

Ha!

ROSEBOT: Don't be such a chud, Dirk.

I am afraid to ask what a chud is. Is that like a cuck? I don’t know what a cuck is either. I am also afraid to ask what a cuck is.

ROSEBOT: She's functionally mortal, remember?

Yeah, that really sucks that Karkat, Terezi, and Kanaya all lack godtier. Karkat would complain about his lack of flight abilities, but I’m surprised Terezi or Kanaya never brought up this fact. Especially Kanaya, what with her marriage to Rose. Kanaya would eventually grow old and die, leaving Rose to keep on living. Of course, Rosebot has decided to leave her loving wife behind so in this particular case that point doesn’t matter.

DIRK: You mean to say that you don't think we'd be in peril if it came to it?

DIRK: There's nothing about our situation that strikes you as falling within the bounds of precarity, as far as the rules are concerned?

ROSEBOT: Oh. You're right. I suppose I hadn't thought of that.

ROSEBOT: But I think we can remain calm in the knowledge that nothing particularly heroic is going on right now. At least, not that I'm aware of.

DIRK: ... Right.

Not sure if Dirk’s meaning flew over Rose’s head, or if she’s just choosing to ignore the possibility of Just deaths as a joke.

That doesn't mean this (*gestures to the narrative*) isn't still going to be a thing, though.

I don’t know why, but this tickles my funny bone.

All in all I think you'll find, as far as narrators go, I'm an excellent... hm. On second thought, maybe that's a bit of a problematic phrase. Yeah, yikes, that one's got a sordid history. Best we steer clear of it. We're all lucky I'm around to make those kinds of sensitivity judgements on everyone's behalf.

I’m glad you can recognize that Homestuck fans all have a fight or flight response that that memetic phrase, but I don’t appreciate you patting yourself on the back for being sensitive when you, as a narrator, could not use Roxy’s correct pronouns once they came to light.

It's time to get this story back on the rails, back to what it was always supposed to be. I know it, and you've somehow always known it too. There was something else, some other route that Homestuck was meant to take but then didn't, a way that wouldn't've spent so much time dicking around with stuff nobody cares about. Like seriously, why did we all have to sit through talking about everyone's most intimate and private feelings for two hundred thousand fucking words. That would never have happened in Act 1. Where did it all go wrong?

So Dirk’s grand plan is to go back to the asinine tomfoolery of Act 1? To do away with character relations and feelings and have people messing around with their sylladexes? I must say, I never would have expected this from the likes of Dirk. I thought he was all about the complex thought processes and inner turmoil.

Thank you for returning the narration to classic black, Dirk. It’s so much easier on the eyes.

Channelling my full potential as an ascended player of Heart, I expand my consciousness to commune with the boundless force of collective willpower that is the internet.

Wow, who knew Heart players could become the internet. I mean, I guess it makes sense. The internet is just a collection of people, and Heart is all about the soul.

I was really hoping the command box he made would be an actual command box. I missed out on the Homestuck days of old where the command box was a real thing. It would have been fun to be a part of that myself, but I understand the fandom is just too big for that ever to be feasible again. That’s why it was done away with in the first place, and that was when the fandom was smaller.

The writers came up with e good command, though.

Yeah, I have a feeling Dirk is going to decide to ignore this command and stop taking suggestions. Either that, or he’s going to inform us that he is not making Homestuck, he’s making Homestuck 2.

But I should have known better. People think you can run a story like this? This must be just about the stupidest idea anyone has ever come up with. I'll just have to make up the commands myself from here on out. Seemed to work ok for the other guy.

Yep, pretty much what I expected.

Oh Jesus Christ, what even is this room?

O.K., let’s take things from the top. Looks like we got the beta kids’ entry items, as well as their Aspect flags from Prospit and Derse. Why does Dirk have these things? There also appear to be some cruxite dowels next to them, but they are any of the colors we’ve seen before.

WOAH, HOLD UP, Are those Dave’s copies of SBURB? Or are they Bro’s? Clearly Dirk has just collected a bunch of items from various points in Homestuck’s timeline like some sort of museum. For what purpose, though?

Oh my god, there’s a Tab watering can. I assume it was alchemized, since Dirk mentioned earlier using alchemy to make his rad new shades. I wonder why Dirk has that Skaianet poster on his wall. I would have thought he’d want nothing to do with anything Jake had his fingers in. Then again, there also appears to be a kotatsu with Jake’s bedspread in the middle of the room.

I can’t tell what the green thing is next to the mutated kitten. Or what that other green thing next to the robot horse is either.

OH FUCK ME THERE’S A ROBOT CAL IN THE PROCESS OF BEING MADE. DIRK, NO. WHY. YOU HAVE THE NARRATIVE CONTROL NOW, YOU SHOULD KNOW CAL IN ANY FORM IS BAD NEWS.

Is that... Is that an anime body pillow there at the bottom?

I also keep my FLORA OF THE SUCCULENT PERSUASION in here, so's I can keep an eye on them.

Dirk grows succulents... That is not a character trait I expected of him.

> Continue

#homestuck 2 #homestuck 2 liveblog #liveblog #gal liveblogs

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heebiejbies · 6 years

Text

Cappuccino - Barista!AU

Characters: Xiumin

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.5k

Note: This gif is so nifty ahh

It started with a simple customer. Minseok’s coffee shop was avidly busy, very seldom having a slow period. He hadn’t noticed her at first, but once he did he couldn’t help but notice her whenever she came in—which was almost every day. She always sat at a table in the back corner, she would order the same thing and she would read or be typing away on her computer while enjoying her order.

What peaked his curiosity first was the fact that she always came in alone. She came in alone, would sit for hours on end, and then she would leave and repeat the next day she came in. He would catch himself losing his train of thought at the sight of her. One day, after delivering an order to a customer, she entered the shop. He became so enthralled by her that he accidentally ran into one of his baristas and spilled multiple orders all over the floor.

That barista, Jongdae, she would only drink cappuccinos made by him. She, apparently, didn’t like cappuccinos made by any of the other baristas at the shop. Jongdae had once given her a coffee made by Yixing—yet another barista—and all she took was a sip of it. She could tell by that one sip that Jongdae hadn’t actually made it.

Another thing that peaked his curiosity, how she always looked upset. She would smile while ordering and receiving her order, but when she sat at her table that smile would fall. The first time he noticed this just so happened to be on one of the rainiest days that they had that month. He noticed how she kept looking up from her book and she would stare out the window at the rain, as if she were waiting for something or someone but it never came. She stayed until closing time that day.

Five minutes til closing, she still sat at her table. She had been there longer than she would usually stay, that didn’t go unnoticed by Minseok. When Jongdae told her that they were closing, she collected her things and headed for the exit. Minseok noticed the pouring rain outside and wanted to give her a ride home or even give her an umbrella. By the time he made it outside, she was gone. It was as if she vanished into thin air. After that, he kept looking for ways to speak to her.

As if it were made to fail from the very beginning, none of his attempts were successful. Whenever he would get close, she would either disappear like she did that day or his attention would have to be directed elsewhere. He still managed to observe her, though. It seemed that lately, she began to grow anxious about something. She would read the same page twice as long as it would usually take her to finish a page, and when she would be typing on her computer he could see that her typing was more aggressive than before. He wanted to ask her if she were okay, but he never got the chance to.

Then, the day came. The day that he finally managed to talk to her. Once again, when closing time came rolling around, she still sat at the table in the corner. He wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers like she did the previous time she stayed until closing time. He took off his apron and tossed it up on the counter. He had Jongdae make her one last cappuccino, and he took it to her table.

He sat the cup down on the table beside her computer, she looked up at him in curiosity. Minseok found himself at a loss for words. He hadn’t expected this to actually work, but now here she sat looking up at him as if she were waiting for him to speak.

“I, uhm, hell. Do you mind if I sit?” He gestured to the chair across from her. She held her hand out to tell him that he could sit, so he did just that. He became a little discouraged when she began typing away at her computer once again, completely ignoring his presence.

“I’m Minseok, I own the place.” He stretched his hand out for her to shake. She didn’t shake his hand, though. She looked at it with a questioning look, then turned her attention back to her computer. He grew even more discouraged after that, but he persisted. He vowed he would get her to speak to him.

“I notice that you come here almost every day, and you always sit here and do the same things and order the same thing. Which, by the way, I’ve compared their cappuccinos and Jongdae’s is by far the best one out of all of the baristas. I’ve also noticed that lately, you have looked rather sad… Why are you sad?” He noticed that she had looked up from her computer, but she wasn’t looking at him. She seemed to be thinking hard about something, her eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular and she seemed to have momentarily gotten lost in her head.

“How long have I been coming here?” Minseok wasn’t expecting that question from her, but he was so happy that she finally spoke to him that he didn’t question it.

“Around 6 months now, why do you ask?”

She picked up the cappuccino and took a sip of it, “I’ve actually been coming in here for around a year now.” She sat the cup back down and fully looked at him. Her eyes were so striking, he hadn’t noticed it until now as they finally made eye contact. She noticed how dumbfounded he looked, so she elaborated, “I’ve only been staying here for those 6 months you remember, the other four I only came to get my order then I would leave.”

He started to wonder what the point was to her telling him that. He thought back to the times before he noticed her, trying to think if he had seen her before the first time he noticed her.

“I’m a writer, you see,” She pulled his attention back to her, “Well, I’m an aspiring writer anyway. I have to write a novella to finish my degree. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, right?” Minseok hesitantly nodded. “I have an internship offer, but they will only give me the internship if I finish my degree and if they approve of my novella.” He now understood why she always would be reading or typing on her computer—she’s a writer.

“I’ve had zero inspiration, to be honest. I’ve tried time and time again but I end up throwing all of my ideas away. My future career is riding on this novella, I want it to be the best thing I’ve ever written. I just can’t seem to find inspiration for it. I’ve noticed how busy this place is, and I thought that I’d find someone or see something that would inspire me enough to where I could actually start writing my novella. I haven’t had that much luck, though.”

“What ideas have you had so far?” She told him every idea she had gotten while being at his coffee shop. One of which, much to his embarrassment, was about a clumsy barista that always tripped up when the girl he liked was around.

“Oh! I apologize, I’ve yet to introduce myself. I’m (Y/N).” After she introduced herself, she got onto the topic of how Minseok made it up to owning one of the most popular coffee shops in the city.

Before they knew it, it was finally time for both of them to leave the shop. He offered to take her home, which she happily accepted. He learned that she lived not too far from his apartment—only four blocks away.

“I apologize for the mess, I've been all through my library looking for a hint of inspiration… And as you can see it hasn't worked out too well for me,” She laughed and rubbed the back of her neck.

Minseok looked around and noticed the piles of books lying around her room and the miscellaneous ones scattered around the room. He also noticed the half-empty coffee cups sitting around the entire apartment.

“It’s alright, it’s got a homey feel to it.” She moved a couple of books off of the couch so Minseok could sit, then disappeared into her kitchen.

He aimlessly looked around her apartment, but a tiny noise drew his attention to the floor. A small, gray kitten sat meowing at his feet. The kitten had bright yellow eyes, and his paws were white. Minseok couldn't help but smile, and he picked the small kitten up and let him sit on his lap. The kitten rolled around on his lap and playfully swatted at him.

“Aww, you’re a playful little kitty, aren't you?” The kitten meowed again, continuing his playful actions.

“That's Gatsby.” She returned with two cups of, you guessed it, coffee. Minseok noted that coffee seemed to be her favorite drink.

“Gatsby?” He took the cup from her and took a sip, the kitten now known as Gatsby trying to take a drink.

“Mhm,” She reached over and pet her kitten, “The first night I had him, he was still unnamed. I woke up the next morning to see that he had destroyed my copy of The Great Gatsby. Thus, Gatsby became this cutie’s name. Sometimes I call him Jay as a nickname, though.”

He held his cup up away from Gatsby, but Gatsby tried to climb up his arm to get the coffee. She scooped him up in her hand and held him.

“Now now, Jay, leave Minseok’s coffee alone. You can't have any, you know that.” She sat the kitten down, he patted off down the hallway out of sight.

“Does he always do that?”

“With fresh coffee, yes. He's a picky boy, he doesn't like coffee that isn't fresh. Which is why all of these cups are still laying around. I just haven't had enough time to clean, and when I try to I get sidetracked. Goodness, if my mother came by she would have a heart attack.” Her giggle made Minseok smile, he hadn't expected her to be so easy going and laid back. He could see that she was stressed out, but she still laughed and cut up with him as if that were the last thing on her mind.

“So, about this barista of yours. Jongdae,” All humor dropped from his face, he became discouraged when she asked about Jongdae, “Can you get me his cappuccino recipe?”

Minseok blinked, the question catching him off guard. His silence amused her, she let out a loud chuckle and patted his knee.

“I’m only joking with you, no worries.”

It took a moment to register, but once it did Minseok let out a hearty laugh.

“You did look a little worried though, scared you'll lose your favorite customer if you let his secret go?” She raised one of her eyebrows at him, suppressing the laugh that ached to be let out. Minseok sat there frozen once more.

“I'm just messing with you,” She laughed, “You are really cute when you are flustered.” Her words left her mouth before she could think. She slapped her hand over mouth and her eyes widened, then she sat her cup down and abruptly stood up. She adjusted her glasses and looked at the clock on the wall.

“Well would you look at the time, Gatsby needs to be fed. I'll be right back!” She scurried off down the hallway, towards the last place the gray kitten was seen going.

Minseok couldn't help but smile at her shyness, he saw a few qualities of himself in her and that only made him much more attracted to her. He adored how she was a coffee and cat lover, and her frazzled yet put together demeanor made his heart race. He wanted to learn more about her, he was determined to.

He subconsciously found himself moseying down the hall, looking for what room she went into. He heard a voice coming from the second to last door on the right, and he pressed his ear against the crack.

“He is a nice guy, Jay, you like him don't you?” Gatsby meowed, then he heard her giggle, “I do, too. We just won't tell him I also partially went to that cafe just to see him get all flustered over me. It'll be our little secret, agreed?”

Another meow.

“That's my good boy. He thinks I'm feeding you, so please wait until he leaves before you come begging for food. I'd appreciate it.” Another chuckle, then he heard footsteps coming towards the door. He couldn't help but scurry to get back down the hallway, somehow managing to make it back to the couch before she noticed.

“Sorry about that, he's very punctual about his food.” He smiled at her, knowing all too well what she was really doing. Unbeknownst to her, Minseok had heard her entire confession. And to say the entire thing made him feel giddy would be an understatement.

“Oh no, it's alright, I understand. I actually should be getting home. I have a little one of my own waiting to be fed.” He wasn't completely lying, he had a kitten named Poe at home. However, it wasn't time for him to be fed. Minseok knew if he stayed any longer he would give himself away or embarrass himself even more than he already had, and he didn't want to ruin any chance of a possible future relationship the two had.

“Oh, I understand. I'll walk you to the door.” She walked him the few steps to the door and opened it for him. He took a step out and turned back around to face her.

“So, uh, it was nice actually getting to spend time with you… After, well, admiring you from afar for awhile.” A blush dusted across his cheeks, making her mentally swoon.

“I'm glad I finally got to speak to you, after noticing you admiring me for quite some time now.” His blush deepened, leaving him—she thought— even more adorable than before.

“I, uh, well-”

“Minseok,” She interrupted him, “You’re sweet,” and then she did something that caught him even more off guard. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Minseok knew his face was as red as a tomato at this point, the kiss wasn't something he expected at all.

“Call me sometime, maybe we can have a coffee date. I know a great place you would love, and I just so happen to know the owner,” She teased him, handing him a sticky note with her name and number scribbled on it.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” She winked and slowly shut her door—leaving Minseok dazed.

He stared at her door for at least a minute, the note with her phone number on it burning in his hand. He looked at it in disbelief, then jumping in shock when her door opened again.

“By the way, I wasn't really kidding about getting that recipe.”

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akaiitokoibito · 6 years

Note

hey there! for a matchup, i would love knb + hq! i'm a leo, isfp, 5"7, and chubby! i love reading + writing even though i get hit by artists' block often. i mostly laze about on the internet when i'm not busy. i've been told i'm really caring, considerate, charismatic, and diplomatic, even though i can be a big slacker and lack a lot self-confidence. i can be introverted among those i'm not familiar with but i'm really lively and crude with close friends. thats pretty much it! tysm in advance!!

Hello, hello!

We’ve decided that the ones at the end of your red thread are Kuroko Tetsuya from Kuroko no Baset and Nishinoya Yū from Haikyuu!!!

“Let’s work hard together.”

tl;dr supportive couple too good for this world

You met at the public library.

Both of you went to different schools; in fact, you went to Touou. However, you two both knew each other as “that other high schooler who enjoys reading as much as I do.”

Kuroko was actually the first to approach you. He wanted to check out a book, but noticed that it was in a pile of books that you were using.

He was caught off guard when you noticed him approaching you and flashed him a small smile. “Hi, do you need something?”

Kuroko was so surprised that you saw him that he only managed to mumble, “Check…out?”

You thought he was hitting on you and sort of internally freaked out. “Sorry, I’m not interested!” you stammered, averting your gaze.

Kuroko realized what you were thinking and quickly corrected, “No, your book. Once you finish with it, may I check it out? It’s the last copy.” He gestured to said book in question.

“Ah, sorry for misunderstanding. Of course! In fact, I believe I’m finished with it already…?” You awkwardly offered it to him.

He took it, blinking and tilting his head. “Thank you. If you don’t mind me asking…how did you see me?”

“I…just…saw you?”

“Most people tend to not notice me unless I address them directly,” Kuroko explained, sensing your confusion.

“Ah! Well, I guess it’s because you’re always checking out the same books as me. You’re Kuroko Tetsuya, right? I see your name often on the library card. I guess after awhile, I began keeping an eye out for you.”

You’d meet every week or so at the library, and slowly began learning more about each other. At first, it was sort of awkward, but discussing books with him was a nice way for both of you to open up.

Kuroko is the best supportive friend ever. Seriously. Whenever you feel down, or have some kind of writer’s/artist’s block, he’ll encourage you both verbally and through small little gifts.

For example, once he learned you were stressing out about a particular exam, he consulted Midorima and bought you some generally lucky items (including one of those “good grades” charms from a nearby shrine).

He basically gave you the confidence boosts you needed.

But at the same time, you’d encourage him whenever he felt down (particularly because of basketball).

There wasn’t any kind of dramatic confession. One day, while discussing one of your story ideas in the library, Kuroko tilts his head and asks, “Would you like to grab something to eat with me after this?”

When the rest of the basketball community found out about your relationship, you were…uh, accosted by several very tall people. After all, only Midorima and Kagami really knew about you before this (Kuroko never really was one to talk about others when they weren’t around).

Seirin accepted you as part of the family. Yep. Aomine and Momoi, who went to your school, soon began approaching you more often to bond over your mutual admiration for Kuroko.

The GoM in particular wanted to interrogate you, but Kuroko reassured them that you were a kind person. (And, well, if you could make Kuroko Tetsuya smile like that, they wouldn’t interfere.)

“You’re a nice person, you know that?”

tl;dr so awkward and cute it hurts

Noya’s your senpai; his classroom is in the same hallway as yours, so you often see each other during class periods.

You couldn’t help but notice how lively he was. No matter the time of day, he’d always stick out to you – despite his short stature.

You began drawing him. Well, not him: that would be awkward. Instead, you drew his eyes: sincere, straightforward, and beautiful.

He noticed you walking with your sketchbook open one day.

“Woah, those eyes look so cool! Can I see?”

You realized that he didn’t notice that those eyes were his, and resolved to not tell him lest you die of embarrassment. “Of course, Nishinoya-senpai.”

He freaked out since 1) you called him senpai and 2) your sketches.

“You’re really skilled at this!” he gushed. Then, he promptly realized that he was talking to a girl and turned into a stuttering mess. “A-ah, um…senpai!”

“I’m afraid I’m your kouhai, Nishinoya-senpai.”

“N-n-no, that’s not it.” He pointed your sketchbook at you, hand trembling but eyes narrowed in determination. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

And that was your first meeting.

You and Noya would occasionally walk together and chat as he headed to the gym. It took a very, very long time for him to acclimate himself to you, but he eventually got (somewhat) used to your presence.

He’d always throw around compliments and smooth one liners without realizing he was being smooth. (Whenever he’d actually, consciously try to act smooth, he’d fail epically.)

You’d always stick to calling him “senpai” – although he did manage to convince you to call him “Noya-senpai” instead of “Nishinoya-senpai.”

He’d nosebleed/sparkle/cry tears of joy whenever you called him senpai.

Occasionally, you dropped by volleyball practice to wave and watch him for a bit. You didn’t want to overstep your boundaries, but at the very least you could act like a good friend™

(Tanaka freaked out the first couple of times you came in to cheer him on.)

(Asahi, who was a witness to your and Noya’s easy banter, silently predicted to himself that you’d be dating by New Year’s.)

(You got along well with all of Karasuno once you got used to them: they considered you a Cool Bro™ who they could joke around with.)

There wasn’t any singular moment that made you fall for Noya.

You just realized one day that you genuinely enjoyed the sound of his laughter. Noya was always sincere and kind. He never lied to you, and even when he’d offer bits of constructive criticism, he always made sure he gave you bits of encouragement, too.

Noya’s revelation was a whole lot more dramatic.

He had been talking with Asahi during practice on one of the days when you didn’t come and just–

“–cheeks and my heart seems to thump faster when I’m around her. Do you think I’m getting sick?” Noya paused, then reviewed the symptoms in his head. “Wait…”

Asahi gave him a consoling pat on the back.

“OH MY GOD, I LIKE HER, ASAHI!”

“Yes. Yes, you do.”

“WHAT DO I DO? DOES SHE LIKE ME? SHOULD I CONFESS? ASAAAAHIII, HELP ME!”

He began pestering Asahi everyday for advice on how to confess.

Eventually, Asahi gave in and began helping him meticulously plan his confession.

It was going to be perfect! After a glorious victory at a match he would invite you to, he would bound towards you with a bouquet in hand and the team cheering.

Instead, though, on the day that he was going to invite you to their game, he found you sketching.

He was supposed to say, “Hey, [Y/N], wanna come to our game tomorrow?”

Instead, he blurted out, “I like you!”

You stopped drawing, turned to gape at him, and Noya promptly facepalmed.

“Oh shit, wait a minute…” he cursed, muttering to himself. “Wait, no! I was supposed to do it AFTER the match!”

“Noya…senpai?” Your voice was strangled, hopeful.

“Aaaah, [Y/N]! Forget about it, okay? I’ll tell you tomorrow after the match!” he declared.

(This dork, you thought to yourself, fighting to keep the grin off your face.)

“I’ll be waiting,” you settled on, flashing him a smile that left him blushing madly.

The volleyball community as a whole were stupefied by the fact that Nishinoya got a girlfriend before any of them did, but accepted you (if the Karasuno players approved of your relationship, they would too). Tanaka sobbed manly tears of joy. Asahi rejoiced, crying, “Finally, no more being a wingman!”

Mod Rose and I had a lot of fun discussing this and coming up with ideas, lol. Hope you enjoyed it, anon!

- Mod Camellia ( + Mod Rose’s fluffy ideas huehuehue)

#sorry for the long wait!#matchup #matchups #anime matchup #anime matchups #haikyuu #haikyuu matchups #haikyuu matchup #hq matchup #knb #kuroko no basket #knb matchup #knb matchups #kuroko no basket matchup #kuroko tetsuya #nishinoya yuu #nishinoya yu

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accuhunt · 4 years

Text

How to Indulge Your Wanderlust During the Coronavirus Pandemic.

The past few days have been rather scary. Mask-covered faces. Queues to wash hands in public toilets. Sanitizers constantly out of stock. Accusatory looks towards anyone coughing or sneezing. Eerily empty hotels, flights and streets following the lockdown travel advice for Coronavirus. Places that were once plagued by overtourism are now deserted. The spread of the COVID-19 Coronavirus has suddenly brought all usual life – and travel – to a halt.

Until a week or two ago, the panic felt rooted in social media, whatsapp forwards and even racial profiling. At that time, I posted on Instagram that I would continue my travels. But in light of recent developments, I’ve archived that post, cancelled some rather exciting travel plans until April and urged everyone to do the same.

I was scheduled to conduct a workshop on responsible tourism marketing in Madhya Pradesh and speak at the prestigious Economic Times Women’s Forum this month – but both events have been cancelled.

In fact, India has cancelled all visas for foreigners till mid April. Sri Lanka has suspended its e-visa facility. Italy is under lock down. Public events have been cancelled in most parts of the world. Schools and colleges have been shut in most Indian states. India’s travel advice for coronavirus is to cancel all non-essential travel abroad. Indians returning from China, Italy, Iran, Korea, France, Spain, Germany, Malaysia, Nepal and even the US can potentially be sent to 14 days of quarantine!

Chances are, you already know that. You, like me, have cancelled your immediate travel plans. And probably you, like me, are wondering what you can do now to indulge your wander-lusting soul!

Here are some creative ideas to satiate your travel cravings – safely and responsibly – during this uncertain coronavirus period:

Read non-fiction books by local authors to virtually explore a new region or country

I’ve dreamt of setting foot in Tibet for a long time, knowing fully well that the Tibet of my dreams is off limits (or no longer exists). So a while ago, I did the next best thing to travelling in Tibet – reading a book that movingly explores its lost beauty, culture and way of life. Tibet With My Eyes Closed is a collection of short stories by Madhu Gurung, based on the lives of Tibetan refugees in India. Some stories moved me to tears, while others left me with an insatiable longing. I can’t recommend it enough!

My point is, as per official travel advice for coronavirus, the entire world is off limits right now. But we can do the next best thing – travel to our dream places through the words and insights of people who know them deeply.

If you dream of Iran, for instance, read Reading Lolita In Tehran. If you dream of Myanmar, read From The Land Of Green Ghosts. If you dream of the Caucasus (Georgia / Azerbaijan), read Ali And Nino.

For more book recommendations, see my favorite (unusual) travel books by local authors around the world. If you’re keen to explore the world from my lens, you can also get a copy of my travel memoir, The Shooting Star

Also read: What No One Tells You About Writing and Publishing a Book in India

Learn a new language that will make a future trip more meaningful

Everywhere I travel, I try to pick up a few words in the local language. But in the weeks before I travelled to Japan, I tried to listen to one episode of a Japanese language podcast every day. By the time I landed in Tokyo, I was able to say many basic phrases in Japanese – which sure made it easier to make friends, find local vegan food and even get some unusual recommendations.

The process of learning a language can certainly make us feel like we’re almost on our way somewhere. The Survival Phrases podcast is good for conversational skills and the Babbel / Duolingo apps can help with basics. But if you really want to commit, consider signing up with an online teacher for one-to-one Skype lessons on a site like italki (I haven’t used it yet but heard good things).

I took Urdu writing lessons last year, but have been terrible at keeping up with what I learnt. I’ve pledged to practice a bit everyday now!

Also read: Unusual Solo Travel Destinations to Feed Your Adventurous Spirit

Document your past adventures

I still have tons of untold stories from my travels over the years. If you’re a travel writer, blogger, photographer, Instagrammer or any kind of storyteller, you’re probably full of stories too – and always wishing for more time to be able to tell them. Or perhaps you have a special interest in architecture, vegan food, wildlife, languages or something else – and you could combine that with your past travels to create unique stories.

All travel advice for Coronovirus suggests not going on a physical journey. But we can still journey into the recesses of our minds, relive some of our adventures and share them with the world. After all, we could all use a little break from the negative news out there!

Also read: How I’m Funding my Adventures Around the World Through Travel Blogging

Binge watch the wonders of our planet

Many of us travel to witness the breathtaking beauty of nature and the cultural wonders of the world. Unfortunately both are fast disappearing.

Video streaming sites online are full of films and documentaries about our incredible planet, wildlife, remote cultures and more. Now is a good time to plug into them, both to feed our wanderlust and to remind ourselves what we stand to lose. Maybe the travel advice for coronavirus and this time away from the road, work, school, college and social gatherings can be a time to reflect on how we need to make better life and travel choices to collectively help the planet.

I’ve been meaning to finish watching One Strange Rock on Netflix, which explains the wonders of earth from the fascinating perspectives of astronauts. And start Our Planet, which documents the impact of climate change on the world’s most remote and vulnerable regions.

Also read: Tajikistan: A Country That’s Not on Your Travel Radar, But Should Be.

Support small responsible travel businesses virtually

As you can probably imagine, this is one of the worst times for the travel industry. March, otherwise peak travel season for many places around the world, has been a month of cancellations. April might go the same way, though I really hope not. Small business owners, family-run homestays, social enterprises and responsible tourism businesses will be some of the worst hit this year.

All travel advice for coronavirus suggests we can’t physically travel this month to support them or the work they do for local communities and environment conservation. But small gestures can go a long way. Leave them a heartfelt review on Google Reviews / TripAdvisor. Mention them on Instagram / Twitter. Recommend them to family and friends for future trips. When the coronavirus pandemic is behind us, they’ll need our tourism money the most. Let’s make sure they’re found, remembered and supported then!

Also read: Offbeat, Incredible and Sustainable – These Travel Companies are Changing the Way You Experience India

Work on your storytelling

Perhaps experimenting with writing, blogging, photography or videos has been on your mind for a long time. Or you still need to perfect some skills. I know I need to get better at editing videos. I could use some professional photography help, but my heart is only half in it. I still have a ton of SEO work to do on this blog. And there’s no end to becoming a better writer.

Here’s a silver lining for the travel advice for coronavirus: Use the time you would’ve spent travelling or socializing, to work on something that might enable you to travel or work on the go in the future!

Also read: Advice for the Young and Penniless Who Want to Travel

International travel is out. But should you travel domestically now?

Many of you have reached out to ask for my travel advice for coronavirus with respect to domestic travel in India (and elsewhere). I think it’s a bad idea. For several reasons:

It’s just not fun. I felt an inexplicable anxiety during the last two days of my recent Chhattisgarh trip. Hearing someone cough sent a shiver down my spine. The last thing I wanted was to have to put myself in self-isolation in someone’s homestay or in a soulless hotel. Or worse, be quarantined in a government facility.

The fear of carrying the virus to a remote part of India. The idea of travelling from urban India – where the majority of coronavirus cases are (in Delhi, Mumbai, Jaipur, Kochi etc) – to rural India is a scary one. Imagine if we have the virus but the symptoms haven’t yet shown up. We could be carrying it to small villages where medical facilities are rare and self-isolation is difficult because entire families live in a single room. It’ll be mayhem.

The fear of infecting people more vulnerable to the virus. People over 60 and those with respiratory issues seem to be the most vulnerable to the coronavirus. We can’t risk being the vectors infecting them.

Flights, buses and trains can be coronavirus hotbeds. Given how infectious the coronavirus seems to be, being stuck among scores of people in a closed environment is a big no-no.

It’s best to postpone all international and domestic travel atleast until April (maybe longer, depending on how things turn out). We need to avoid busy places, public transport and any physical contact. We must constantly wash and sanitise our hands. And if we have even the mildest symptoms of fever, cough, cold or flu, we absolutely must stay at home and follow official protocols!

How has coronavirus affected your travel plans? If you run a travel business, what’s it been like for you?

Also read:

11 Tips to Ease Your Transition Into a Vegan Lifestyle

Incredible Experiences That’ll Make You Fall in Love With Uzbekistan

Should Travel Bloggers and Influencers Voice Their Political Opinions?

The post How to Indulge Your Wanderlust During the Coronavirus Pandemic. appeared first on The Shooting Star.

How to Indulge Your Wanderlust During the Coronavirus Pandemic. published first on https://airriflelab.tumblr.com

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5questions · 7 years

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BELLA BRAVO

Bio: Bella Bravo was born in San Diego, CA in 1987. She is a writer living in Bloomington, IN.

What writing or other projects are you working on currently?

Currently, I am converting my story “Public Figures” into a play. A couple of years ago I converted a very short segment of text, which was mostly dialogue of a pizza delivery person recounting a strange experience, into a skit. A friend also wrote a skit from a story of his, and we performed them in a rec room at community center, so the audience was sitting and standing among the actors. The whole experience was so fun. Then, earlier this year, I adapted another story into a longer, one-act production, adding props, lighting and sound effects, and multiple sets.

This creative process gives me a second way into the story, like a back door, because the actors help workshop the script. They ask questions about the characters’ lives, and so I get to tell them things that didn’t make the final cut of the story. They improvise phrasing, so the lines sound how they imagine the characters speak. It’s so cool to see them embody these characters that have been living with me (in my head) for so long.

Writing is normally such a solitary practice for me, whereas this is a community effort in every way. This month I’ll start reading through the script with the performers (wonderful actors from a local troupe called Sitcom Theater) and the musician who is writing a score (Jon Meador of Saintseneca and Kleinerwasserbär). It’s rejuvenating to finish a story and then follow other people’s ideas as they extrapolate from it.

Your recent single story chapbook Public Figures, along with your past collection The Unpositioned Parts, put some of the focus on the fringes of society. It isn't like a lot of the world of mainstream fiction, especially in this manner. What books or experiences influenced your development of this kind of focus in your work?

I feel like by fringe, maybe you mean, what my grandma would call “open.”[1] My grandma always says, “It’s important to be open.” Her gesture for that axiom is bringing her fingers softly to the corners of her eyes and guiding her hands out as though demonstrating nearly 180 degree vision, “open, not closed.” She has large brown eyes. I feel drawn to “openness”, spaces and experiences where I can have a wide outlook where the boundary is not closed. Let’s see examples of open experiences would be queerness, gratitude, crime, becoming, hope, communism. I guess I’m fine with opening boundaries as well. I write from experience, usually from a place or visual image stuck in my head. I think a sense of abandonment is a theme connecting many of those incidents or images. My family felt like an open container; I always felt exposed, a little to the side of their primary concerns. I tend to feel more at home or more confident in negative spaces or spaces that lack definition—absences. I think that’s where the focus on fringe or openness comes from.

Your prose has a heavy sense of control, with a strong feeling of power in the story and the kind of step-by-step way that sentences build up this huge staircase of words and narrative, where you end up really high and then you maybe fall off or make peace with being so high. Who are writers you really like for the craft of their prose? What really draws you in most to the works that you like the most?

For craft inspo, I read short-short fiction. Thrifty writers like Grace Paley, Italo Calvino, Lydia Davis, Donald Barthleme and Sophie Calle know how make the most of a syllable. I think of a given text as a closed economy. Its fundamental principle is circulation; stagnation is expiration. These writers experiment with different patterns to modulate the dynamism of a story, but every word, punctuation mark gives the story at hand energy.

I tend to rely on incremental escalation, like a staircase pattern, because that’s what I do in legal writing as well. In legal writing, I have a rule of one new fact per sentence, which gives the text a slow and consistent building momentum. It’s easy to control. (Humor often relies on this same incremental escalation, and I think all of the above artists write hilarious prose.)

I love also poetry for its excesses and gaps. When I read Bhanu Kapil and Anne Boyer I feel like there is so much that I don't understand. I love how they use poetics to expand the genres of memoir and social critique, blurring them into one another. I keep a copy of Ariana Reines’s Mercury on my nightstand. She harmonizes within the complexity of gender, existence and species, in some moments with five-word lines surrounded by a blank page. Her writing is intricate and strong like a healed burn.

What's your day-to-day life like? Do you live in Indiana or did you just go to school there? What do you think about Indiana?

Let’s see, I sit a lot, ha. I’m a deputy public defender in Bloomington and I write, so much of my day passes seated behind my desk, in a courtroom or at my dining room table. In terms of the workday-to-workday, it’s my job to defend people from criminal penalty zealously. I have a complicated relationship to my work. For the most part, I defend indigent people against State prosecution. This is an easy position for me, because I don’t believe in prisons, police or the State. My job gets difficult emotionally when I know my client has hurt someone or when I can’t figure out a way to prevent a penalty that I think is particularly unfair. Many of my cases deal with the same conduct and circumstances, and that’s a consequence of the nature of criminal law, where the legislature has identified and proscribed specific behaviors. This pattern forces the facts of my clients’ lives to bleed together. I learn private details about my clients’ lives shortly after meeting them, but I try to respect the narrowness of my glimpses. I’m humbled by my job, because my clients have a lot of confidence in me from the very beginning. Fear and anxiety are excellent motivators for dependence and bonding. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, I feel grateful to be a public site for trust.

I moved from Salt Lake City, Utah to Bloomington to go to law school in 2009. Like 60 percent of Salt Lake County residents (approximate), I was raised in the Mormon Church. Many of my family are still practicing members, and it wasn’t until I left Utah and moved to Indiana that I realized how culturally isolated and cultish my childhood was. Shortly after I first moved here, I remember feeling shocked when I saw an undergrad, like a typical university student, smoking a cigarette on a public sidewalk. Salt Lake was such a sterile place, both physically and socially. To me in 2009, smoking was something weirdos and disestablishment folks do, not something for college kids. Indiana has become my archetype for the U.S., and that’s just because it’s my primary contrast to Utah, which is not representative of anywhere else. That estimate was validated unfortunately by the election. I don’t feel much affinity for Indiana at this point.

That said, Indiana has many wonderful people. Bloomington is a small commercial center for south-central Indiana. I’m lucky to live here with a group of compassionate and thoughtful social heretics who have been drawn to Bloomington for various reasons, some from other parts of Indiana, some from other parts of the U.S., and some from other parts of the world.

Fuck this Midwest humidity though. My body was meant for the desert.

A lot of artists and writers have had calls to action or predictions that art/literature in America will change greatly in this new era after the recent election of Trump. Could you or do you see your own work changing? I guess all writing will change at least contextually, although all writing is also always changing contextually.

You make a good point that art is contextual. I think resonance comes from historical patterns as they repeat and shift over time. The election angers me because it demonstrates a resurgence of far-right populism in the West. These trends are so dangerous as they build momentum. America has always been racist, but now anti-immigrant and Blue Lives Matter sentiments are the rally cries of a fascist platform and that platform will be publicly-funded first-term agenda. Many of my family members are immigrants who have practiced—with varying degrees of predictability—cyclic migration, living in both aboard and the States. The father who raised me is a cop. My mom voted for Trump and Pence. Since the election, I’ve had dreams—at night and during the day—where I scream at the top of my lungs in my mom’s kitchen and all nine of her small dogs mill around my feet. I think anger and absurdity will resonate over these next 8 years, lbh. I’m selfishly excited for a resurgence of punk.

Though, I think climate change will have a greater impact on my work and experiences over the next decade. Having an immediate environmental catastrophe will make explaining what I’m doing—writing, touring, gardening, developing relationships with many levels of intimacy—and not doing with my life—having kids, marriage, and a path to salvation—easier when I visit my mom. Last Christmas, she asked me when I think I’ll have kids, so I brought up an article about millennials are mostly having children out of wedlock. Over the next few years, higher energy storms will cause greater levels of damage to the coasts, fresh water will become a scarcer commodity, and both will cause higher prices at Costco, so I feel like we’ll mostly talk about that instead.

[1] They have complementary definitions: “of an outer edge; margin; periphery,” and “allowing access, passage; not closed or blocked up.”

#bella bravo #monster house press #costco #christmas #anti-fascism #fascism #midwest #bloomington #grace paley #italo calvino #andrew duncan worthington

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halloweendailynews · 7 years

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As many of you already know, author Dennis Etchison wrote the official movie novelizations of Halloween II and Halloween III under the pseudonym of “Jack Martin”, but I was surprised to learn that Etchison also wrote the original script for Halloween 4, asked to do so by John Carpenter himself. While this first vision of Halloween 4 never actually came to be, Etchison recently revealed some key details and differences of what could have been.

Read on for more on this fascinating “What if?”, and Happy #MichaelMyersMonday!

Blumhouse (which is producing the next Halloween film) recently published a new interview with Dennis Etchison, in which the author covers a lot of ground, from his first meeting with Carpenter and producer/partner Debra Hill, to his works beyond the Halloween franchise. Most exciting is the new scene descriptions, including even some direct passages from Etchison’s original script, that are revealed in the interview.

As Etchison tells the story (via Blumhouse): “One day out of the blue, I got a call from somebody at John’s office who said, ‘John Carpenter would like to meet with you.’ Well, that was good news because I was a great fan of his. And I said sure and I went in the next day and met him and Debra Hill. Debra took me into another room and sat me down said they needed a novelization for The Fog. Somebody else had written one but she didn’t like it and they weren’t going to use it. She said, ‘He [the other writer] had a reporter having sex with ghosts on the beach! It’s terrible. We don’t have much time, and we need someone to do it, and someone recommended you.’

“I’m very visual when I write, and I didn’t want to visualize it in a way that was different from the film. At some point in the next few days, Tommy Wallace, I think, showed me a couple of reels of it (The Fog), the opening, so I could get the flavor and the look of it. And then I got a copy of the script and I studied that. The deal with Bantam Books was that they needed it in exactly six weeks, and I said, ‘Okay, I can do that.’ …So I signed and started and I finished it six weeks to the day.

“It (The Fog) went through eight printings. It did well. John asked me if I’d like to novelize Halloween II and then Halloween III, and so I did those. At some point, after Halloween III, on Christmas Eve, I got a call from John, and he said, ‘Debra and I would like you to write the script for Halloween IV.’ And I said, ‘That’s wonderful!’ A few minutes later, Debra called and said the same exact thing. And I was just ecstatic. I started meeting with John and we talked about what would be in it. We agreed that it should start ten years after Halloween, and the story would concern the two little kids Laurie Strode was babysitting, who were now teenagers, grown up and still living across the street from each other …Lindsay Wallace and Tommy Doyle.

“The idea is that the town, after all those terrible murders ten years earlier, has banned Halloween. They don’t recognize Halloween as a holiday; they don’t allow Halloween masks and costumes or Halloween candy. And you know Hunt, the deputy from the first two films? Hunt is now the sheriff. And ten years of repression and suppression have boiled to the surface and there are some hints that He’s back!

“So I foresaw on the poster the words, ‘The night he came home…again!’ And I had this set piece in mind where Michael Myers comes bursting up out of a big lot full of pumpkins. Erupting out of this orange mound. That would be a nice shot to use on the poster.

“And at one point there was a speech — they have a town meeting and everyone is up in arms about whether they should have Halloween or not. And the guy who runs the local drive-in, the Lost River, which is the name of a real drive-in… John grew up in Bowling Green, Kentucky and he said there was a real Lost River Drive-In, and Haddonfield was also based on a town in Illinois where Debra had grown up. So there is this town meeting where everyone is arguing, and the guy who runs the drive-in says, ‘You can’t ban a night of Halloween movies! I’m trying to make a living here! Kids wanna see horror movies!’ ‘Well, maybe they shouldn’t,’ some people are saying. ‘Maybe it’s better if they don’t see them.’ So the whole idea was repression versus acknowledging the bad things in the world.

“A few weeks later, I stopped by Debra Hill’s office to pick up a copy of the final retyping of the script. She had a tall stack of them in front of her and said, ‘We’re sending these out to the investors.’ And then, sometime later, I got a call from her, saying, ‘I just wanted to tell you, John and I have sold our interest in the Halloween franchise and unfortunately your script was not part of the deal.’ Who knows why. Apparently the partners hired something like ten other writers to work on it after me, and I lost a Writer’s Guild arbitration over the credits, even though I was the first writer on the project. So my name’s not on the picture.”

Etchison goes on to explain that his Halloween IV (like the version that ultimately did get made) would have picked up on that night in Haddonfield again, ten years to the day after Halloween II ends, simply ignoring the existence of Halloween III.

Then the author provides an actual reading from the script itself, providing us fans a rare look at this original vision of a film we’ve all watched so many times.

“MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE:

Open on a black screen. Superimpose in dark red letters:

HALLOWEEN IV.

End main titles.

FADE IN TO:

EXT. NIGHT – MYERS HOUSE – SUBJECTIVE POV (PANAGLIDE)

ANGLE FROM BEHIND BUSHES. Standing. Moving forward. Crossing the overgrown lawn toward the abandoned Myers house. Around the porch…to the back door…and entering the house.

INT. NIGHT – MYERS HOUSE – SUBJECTIVE POV (PANAGLIDE)

Moving through the dusty kitchen, the dining room, toward a dark, shadowed stairway. Climbing the stairs, through cobwebs, to a bedroom. Panning right to a dusty box springs. Panning left over peeling wallpaper…an old chest of drawers…to a vanity table and a cracked mirror on the wall.

Moving to the vanity table. Sitting down. Now we see dim reflections of parts of the room behind, as two pale hands from below frame appear in one jagged piece of the mirror and bring up a white featureless mask. The screen goes black for a second as the mask is pulled on. Now, through the eyeholes, we see a figure in the mirror. Tilting his head as he considers his reflection. The costume is complete. It is THE SHAPE.

FADE IN TO:

BLACK SCREEN

SUPERIMPOSE: Haddonfield, Illinois – October 31, 1988″

Etchison then drops the bomb that director Joe Dante (Gremlins, The ‘Burbs) was initially going the helm what would have been “Halloween IV“.

When asked about what kind of possible “body count” his film would have had, Etchison dives into another stunning scene description.

“They’re decorating for the school Halloween dance, but they can’t call it that. They can’t have anything that suggests the supernatural. Lindsay, now — no it’s not Lindsay, it’s another girl, D’Arcy — she’s gonna go out on a triple date with three guys and two other girls and they’re going to the Lost River Drive-In, which is having a triple-feature shown on three screens simultaneously. It’s an outdoor multiplex with the three screens angled away from each other. And every kid in two counties is going to go there tonight. So she’s promised she’ll have a surprise for them. What she’s gonna do is bring pumpkins for each of them with their faces carved on the pumpkins…

“EXT. DAY – PUMPKIN STAND – LATE AFTERNOON

Beyond the city limits where Halloween is in full observance. A pumpkin stand in a lonely corner at the edge of town, just outside the Haddonfield line. On the other side of the street a sign: “Welcome to Haddonfield.” On this side: “Welcome to Harding.”

AS D’ARCY WALKS UP.

She touches a few of the pumpkins uncertainly, as if she knows what she’s doing. A WIZENED OLD PROPRIETOR watches her.

PROPRIETOR

Use ’em, don’t bruise ’em. Some of ’em is mighty ripe.

D’ARCY

How much?

PROPRIETOR

Ten cents a pound. Cash and carry.

That one there looks to be about thirteen

pounds.

D’Arcy digs into her jeans and counts her money.

PROPRIETOR

‘Course you could get yourself a little baby

one. But they’re not much fun, are they?

D’ARCY

I…wouldn’t know.

PROPRIETOR

Then you must be from Haddonfield.

Don’t know how to have any fun over there.

CLOSER ANGLE — D’ARCY:

as she smooths her hand over the surface of pumpkins. All are elongated and misshapen. She makes a face back at each one. They aren’t quite right.

D’ARCY

(to herself) Richie, Keith, and Lonnie. Uh-uh.

Suddenly a knife swoops down and stabs the pumpkin in front of her.

WIDER:

PROPRIETOR

This one’ll carve up real nice!

The Proprietor is standing next to her. He buries the blade to the hilt and starts sawing out eyeholes to demonstrate.

D’ARCY

How much if I buy three?

PROPRIETOR

Depends. You could make me a deal.

See anything you like?

He sticks his own face in front of her and grins. She looks away, repulsed. He turns back to the pumpkin, cutting a nose and grinning mouth.

D’ARCY

I…don’t think so. Thanks, anyway.

She starts to leave, but he is in front of her with his knife blade dripping juice and seeds.

PROPRIETOR

You don’t like ’em? He’s my favorite.

I call him Freddy.

D’ARCY

Uh, you wouldn’t know another…Forget it.

PROPRIETOR

Where you going? I got everything you

want right here. Take a look.

He goes to the side of the stand and gestures at the lot behind.

ANGLE TO INCLUDE THE LOT:

Behind the stand is a vacant lot with hundreds more pumpkins, trucked in for the holiday like a Christmas tree lot that is full once a year and empty the rest of the time. Mounds of pumpkins, all sizes and shapes. All very ripe and deep orange under the setting sun. D’arcy walks forward into pumpkinland, dazzled.

D’ARCY

Wow. You mind if I …?

PROPRIETOR

Go ahead. Feel ’em! Rub up against ’em!

Take your time!

She walks away as the Proprietor pulls a half-pint out of his hip pocket and unscrews the top. Empty.

PROPRIETOR

I’ll be back. Two minutes!

D’ARCY

Whatever.

Behind him, the Proprietor crosses the street to a liquor store.

FOLLOWING D’ARCY INTO THE LOT:

She steps into the lot, still dazed. More pumpkins than she has ever seen before. Walking as if on eggs, she finds a nice round one, bends over to pull it out — and the whole stack collapses around her! She gets up awkwardly and steps on a ripe one. Her foot sinks into rotten pulp. She shakes it off and steps down on another one.

D’ARCY

Shit! She hides the broken pumpkins, then carries the one she chose to the edge of the lot. She goes back, selects a second, then a third. Standing there satisfied, her back to the lot.

LOW-ANGLE — MOVING (PANAGLIDE):

Fast track at ground level, following a single pumpkin as it breaks loose from the stacks and rolls faster and faster toward D’Arcy. She hears it coming, starts to look down…

ANGLE ON D’ARCY:

Too late! It hits the backs of her legs like a bowling ball and knocks her off her feet. She sprawls backwards… SPLAT! Smashing pumpkins. She tries to get up, slips on wet pulp. Now more pumpkins rain down on her in a chain reaction. She is half-buried.

D’ARCY’S POINT OF VIEW:

A DARK FIGURE towering over her.

ANGLE ON D’ARCY:

She fights her way out from under as the DARK FIGURE falls on her! She SCREAMS — but it is only a SCARECROW in a black coat. Part of the display. She pushes it away and gets up, her hands and arms dripping with chunky slime. Cracked pumpkins all around. Standing amid a battlefield of broken shells, she looks to the street. Still no sign of the Proprietor. The three pumpkins sit apart in front. She’s got to get them out of here before he gets back and sees the damage.

Now he’s coming out of the store. No time. She’ll have to get away fast. She starts to cross the lot laterally, staying out of sight behind the stand. A pumpkin rolls down and taps her ankle. She sidesteps it. Then another, another…

No time to look back. Keep moving.

Now an avalanche behind her as the largest mound erupts and THE SHAPE bursts forth from beneath! They topple her from behind like a tenpin and then the pumpkins rain down, burying her completely. Sounds of her SCREAMING for help as her hand digs out…as the blade of a large butcher knife rises in the air, flashing a reflection of the red sunset. The knife arcs down again and again. Orange pieces go flying as the pumpkins nearby are spattered with blood.

As D’Arcy’s screams stop.”

Did you get chills reading that, like I did? If that’s not enough, Etchison even gives us glimpse into his big finale.

“It ends up with an enormous climax. Tommy and Lindsay go on the run into the countryside, away from Haddonfield. Lindsay hasn’t been able to remember anything that happened in 1978. She has no memory of it; it’s blacked out of her mind. And her mother wants it that way.

“Tommy, on the other hand — they both saw shrinks for a while when they were kids, and Tommy is beginning to get some flashes of it and begins to understand what’s happening. Whenever he tries to call Lindsay from across the street the mother never accepts the calls. ‘Don’t call here again, Tommy Doyle!’ Because it will remind Lindsay of what happened. But they’re bonded together because of what they went through, and they’re grown up now and they kind of like each other. But she’s not allowed to see him.

“Anyway, it ends up with this tremendous bloody scene at the packed drive-in at midnight. It’s really incredible. And the Shape is there and he’s stalking and killing people right and left. Tommy and Lindsay get away. They wake up in a farmhouse outside of town, in the country somewhere, and she has had a dream that starts to bring it all together for her…In short, it’s not just a slasher movie. The story has a philosophy behind it.”

A horror movie that is about more than just the body count? A Halloween film with actual social commentary in it? No Jamie Lloyd? I love Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers as it exists today, but this unused script by Dennis Etchison would most definitely have been a beast of an entirely different kind, and his descriptions of what could have been offer an amazing look at an alternate universe of possibilities for where the franchise may have gone.

Be sure to read the full interview over at Blumhouse.com.

What are you thoughts on these killer new revelations? Do you think you would have liked to have seen Etchison’s script make it to theaters? We look forward to hearing your thoughts in the comments!

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For more Halloween news, follow @HalloweenDaily.

#MichaelMyersMonday: Original 'Halloween 4' Script Details Revealed! #MichaelMyers #Halloween4 #HalloweenDaily As many of you already know, author Dennis Etchison wrote the official movie novelizations of Halloween II…

#Dennis Etchison #Halloween 4

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the-counter-current-blog · 5 years

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JD Slajchert

Engineer of Words. Division 1 Student-Athlete. Author.

Grab a pencil and a sheet of paper. Ready? Write down JD Slajchert. You’ll want to remember his name. Although JD is just 23 years old, he already is a published author. MoonFlower, his debut novel, has done extremely well — especially, as a first time author. To elaborate, on Amazon the book has only earned “5 Star Reviews” from 16 different Amazon members and has two fantastic editorial reviews. Further, what’s very unique about JD’s writing process is how few people knew about the book before it was published.

“I wanted to keep the writing of my first book a secret because I was afraid of what people might think. To be a full time student and a college basketball player while writing a novel is a pretty strange combination, to say the least. So, rather than trying to sound high and mighty about my routine, I kept it all to myself.” — JD

For those who have not read the book, our writing staff would highly encourage it. MoonFlower is a great story because it captures two of the most powerful emotions humans can experience — love and loss. Inspired by true events, JD expertly navigates the trenches of heartbreak warfare by allowing the reader the chance to witness whimsical love. As the story unfolds, the reader is introduced to difficult, real-world concepts like how to be a co-parent to a chronically ill sister and more. While many of the reviews on Amazon for the book left the reader in tears, the love JD shares in the story is unquestionably real.

Q: In your own words, who are you and what motivates you in life? — Ryan

A: I am someone that focuses on the little details. In my opinion helping someone or doing the right thing doesn't have to be some grand gesture, so I strive to live by that. It's the small things that excite me which is why I wanted to become a writer. The loss of my best friend at the age of ten years old motivates me everyday. I know that he had dreams and goals, so it is up to me to not only pursue my dreams for myself, but also for Luc Bodden. — JD

When JD was only ten years old, his best friend died. Luc Bodden passed away from sickle cell disease. The book is just one of the ways that JD honors the life of his former best friend. Currently, he serves as the Director of Relationship Development on the Luc Strong Foundation. The Luc Strong Foundation was established by Luc Bodden’s parents to help alleviate the financial hardships of families. In particular, the foundation focuses on reducing costs for children with sickle cell disease who are undergoing a bone marrow transplant process.

Tangentially, in life, we have all crossed paths with individuals who say something and do something else. With JD, he was never like that. For him, writing is a method to capture emotions, thoughts, and even moments in a snapshot of time. Our guess is, if you ever were to praise JD for the work he has done to honor Luc Bodden’s memory, he would either sheepishly say thanks and redirect the conversation or politely dismiss the gratitude by mentioning that there is much more work that needs to be done.

Environmental Stewardship & Disaster Relief

When considering how to balance the concepts of environmental stewardship and disaster relief for the Woolsey fire, JD had several great thoughts. According to him, “[success] in my opinion for our disaster relief is coincidentally the same as success with our campaign for the book. If we helped one person then it was worth it.“

“If one person read my book and it helped them through a tough time or showed them to follow their dreams then it was all worth it. If our disaster relief helps one person bounce back who lost their home in the fire then I'm more than happy with our effort.” — JD

Further on the topic of environmental stewardship is the idea of waste. Personally, as a writer, JD has not experienced too much waste in the industry. Generally, all forms of communications are done electronically and this reduces the need for paper. His book is even available on the Kindle which is encouraging. Despite the importance of environmental stewardship, JD is primarily focusing on rehabilitation as it relates to disaster relief.

“The protection and conservation of our environment is the most important political topic for our country. No other topic matters if we don't have a planet to execute these orders on and if we continue to waste and pollute our environment then we will have irreversible consequences. We have to do a better job.” — JD

Philanthropy: The Woolsey Fire & Teresa Alaniz

Until March 3rd, 100% of the book sales from Moonflower will be donated to the victims of the Woolsey Fire. So if you want to buy a copy of the book, JD encourages reader to buy prior to the deadline. Here is the Amazon link, if you are interested!

Concurrently, JD is attempting to raise $20,000 for a little girl named Teresa Alaniz. In the last week, JD has already managed to raise $4,860 to help Teresa. For those who are unfamiliar, Teresa suffers from a multitude of issues. Several include: “a lack of proper facial development, internal structural issues involving the location where her brain sits in her skull, the inability to breathe properly through her nose and mouth due to internal developmental problems, the inability to talk because of missing facial muscles, and trouble with spatial recognition cause by the unusual location of her brain.” If you want to donate or learn more, here is the Go Fund Me link!

Parting Thoughts

When we asked about plans for a second book, JD mentioned that “[only] a select few people are aware of the contents for my second novel and I plan on keeping it that way to protect the creative aspect of creating a compelling story.” Understandably, we’ll just have to read it when it debuts later in 2019!

Generally, when Counter Current features individuals or products on our site, we are doing so for informational purposes only. However, personally, I plan to buy a copy of JD’s book and definitely will donate to Teresa’s GoFundMe. If you like what we write, follow Counter Current on Twitter @CountCurrent, on Instagram at @thecountercurrent, and like our Facebook page! If you like the message JD is promoting, check out his website, follow him on Twitter @JD_Slajchert, and on Instagram @jd_slajchert! Happy Monday!

#Woolsey Fire #JD Slajchert #MoonFlower #secret process #secret #environmental stewardship #environmental impact #fire #love #loss #disaster relief #go fund me #teresa alaniz #sickle cell #disease #cancer

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fitnesshealthyoga-blog · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/reflections-on-michael-stone-mental-health-and-yogas-cult-of-positivity/

Reflections On Michael Stone, Mental Health And Yoga’s Cult Of Positivity

by Rachel Meyer

It’s over a month now that Michael Stone is gone.

What a strange word that is: gone.

Gone, Gone, Gone beyond Gone utterly beyond

Like many of us, I can’t quite believe it.

Michael’s face keeps popping up on my Facebook feed, and for a split-second my mind thinks it’s a new blog or an unheard podcast or an upcoming retreat, for the briefest moment excited to see what wisdom offering might be around the corner.

And then I remember he is gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhi svaha

Gone from suffering into the liberation from suffering.

Memorials have been appearing regularly; graceful, all.

Michael’s brother Jayme’s hauntingly-perfect eulogy about the wide wake that Michael leaves. The heartbreakingly-real, yet unbelievably-grounded regular FB updates from Carina and team. Compassionate tributes from Spirituality and Health and Tricycle and Lion’s Roar, the Buddhist community coming together in their collective grief. Matthew Remski reading Michael’s letters about how family wakes us up. Mainstream media coverage in The Washington Post and The Globe and Mail, complicated pieces often written from a secular perspective that throw around thorny phrases like “charismatic guru” and “opioid overdose.”

In the wake of Michael’s unexpected death, the overarching themes from conversations amongst my yoga teacher colleagues have been:

1) ohmigod this is so f*cking sad, and

2) we have GOT to talk more transparently about mental health in the yoga and wellness communities.

Yoga teachers: how has this tragedy touched your hearts and minds?

And where do we go from here?

It is 2008.

Michael’s first book, The Inner Tradition Of Yoga, has just been published. There’s not much else out there like it.

I stumble across a copy in the philosophy section of an honest-to-god real-life Barnes & Noble, back when there was such a thing in San Francisco’s Union Square. I read half of it immediately, inspired, sitting there on the floor in a caffeinated half-lotus.

The next day, ensconced in a cafe on Polk Street, the guy to my left taps my shoulder, leans over, gestures at the cover, and asks incredulously, “The inner tradition of yoga?!? Is there even such a thing??”

Michael Stone was unlike any other.

He set a remarkable standard.

Since that moment nearly a decade ago, he has been my touchstone for what it means to be a thoughtful, humble, wise student, teacher, writer, meditator, activist, and yoga philosopher.

Here was someone who’d studied with Richard Freeman and was a legit Ashtangi, an intellectual who’d lived a Thoreauvian life in a bus in the wilderness, an activist who applied yogic ethics to the Occupy movement and called for engaged Buddhism with an eye toward social justice. Here was a teacher who melded psychology and yoga philosophy and Buddhism in the most-approachable of ways. Here was a globally respected scholar-yogi who didn’t sell out to multinational corporations by becoming an ambassador for yoga pants. Here was a young husband and father who was at once engaged in family life and grounded in the monastic/ascetic model, a seeker who’d trained with the greats and was honing his own voice at the same time.

Michael’s work gave me permission to be a yoga teacher who was not always perky and chirpy and full of woo-woo bliss-talk. He made it seem possible to be at once serious and funny and engaged and introspective, as opposed to a run-of-the-mill yoga fitness Barbie.

As a student and as a teacher, his work encouraged me to feel all of my human feelings. To aspire to balance rather than bliss. To aim for sattva instead of sparkling.

That he struggled shouldn’t come to any of us as a shock.

That we all struggle shouldn’t come to any of us as a shock.

I understand Michael’s fear about being forthcoming about his mental health.

In April 2016, I wrote an article for The Washington Post about my own struggle with postpartum depression.. The piece had been on my heart for two years, and it hungered desperately to be articulated, like nothing else I’d ever written before. The final essay took months to come together, and I was pleased with the final result.

It felt true, unvarnished, melancholy, whole.

But in the days before it was published, I was terrified. Wracked with anxiety. The morning before it came out, I sat on the floor of my office, shaking, and wept. It felt like the ultimate coming out of the closet. Total naked vulnerability.

Because “speaking [my] desolation was terrifying. I was a yoga teacher. I was supposed to weather the storms of parenthood with grace: be positive and perky, measured and resilient, lose the baby weight in a flash, thrive on green juice and quinoa whilst wearing my baby like a kangaroo.”

Wasn’t I? Isn’t that the shakti cheerleader myth we’ve collectively constructed, Instagram post by Instagram post?

After the piece was published, I was overwhelmed by an outpouring of solidarity from across the globe, women yogis reaching out to say, “You spoke my truth. I see myself in your words, and I didn’t have the words to articulate this experience myself. Thank you.”

(It’s always the pieces that are most terrifying to publish that strike a chord, that people relate to most. The whole experience was such a good reminder to trust the vulnerability at the heart of intimacy.)

A few days later, I reached out to Michael and shared my essay with him, mentioning that I’d long respected his work and imagined he might find it of value, or at least relatable.

The next morning I awoke to his reply. Michael wrote, “This is the most tender, accurate, & clear article I’ve read in months. Perfectly sad and inspiring.”

It was, and always will be, one of the highlights of my career.

Michael and I never met in person. But I’ve spent hundreds of hours “with” him and his teachings over the years, listening to his measured voice while hiking the trails of Northern California, driving the twisting roads of Marin en route to teach in Oakland, sitting on buses in San Francisco sending metta to the strangers across from me, practicing silently on my kitchen floor in Portland while my son slept upstairs, meditating on a plane flying cross-country to begin a new life in Boston.

I know I am not alone. These years, these hours, listening, all, have been a lesson in the impact one person can have on another (thousands of others), quietly, across the miles.

I am forever grateful.

In the inimitable void that Michael has left, I am heartened to see that his teaching team is still moving forward with upcoming trainings, such that his teaching might continue, even in his physical absence.

Among so many lessons over the years, these stand out:

Enlightenment is intimacy. And family wakes us up. Michael described enlightenment as intimacy. A closeness with what is. A clear-seeing; a deep-knowing.

I keep thinking of Carina, their children, their unborn baby. I keep thinking of how unbearable the grief of loss must be, the heart-shattering miracle that will be that forthcoming child. I keep thinking of the fact that we just never f*cking know when our day will come.

All of spiritual practice is just taking care of things. Years ago, I scrawled this podcast nugget down on a piece of scrap paper and taped it to the wall. My husband found it in a moving box in the basement a few days after Michael passed. It still feels true.

Yoga is about learning to be awake in the world. Michael’s book of the same name, his podcast, too, emphasized as much, at once poetry and prose and philosophy and meditation. Very much like Virginia Woolf’s, his writing was at once literary and philosophical and grounded in the stuff of real life.

Your life doesn’t need you to think about it all the time. Perfectly simple. Perfectly wise.

Yoga is about learning to be real. Yoga means dropping our masks, releasing the armor. Finding ease in your being, your body and mind. We are allowed to feel the full depth of the human emotional spectrum without invalidating or doing violence to our psyches by denying the more shadowy of those emotions. This means learning to be with all that we feel—even the most irritable, politically incorrect, difficult, complicated emotions—and trusting that, with the help of the breath, we can stay with them, and watch them “arise, unfold, and pass away,” all the while residing in that place of equilibrium. This is the true work of the yogi.

Teachers, where do we go from here?

What does a new paradigm look like? And how can we help colleagues who are struggling?

Here’s what I’ve got so far:

1. We can’t put one another on pedestals. ‘Nuff said. Matthew Gindin’s reflection on “Putting To Rest The Myth of The Heroic Self” over at Tricycle addresses this well.

2. We need to be more transparent about our own humanity, and bold enough to acknowledge more than bliss. We have to be authentic about the fact that, yes, absolutely, we’re human, and we experience the whole realm of human emotions. We can’t prioritize bliss over the other aspects of being human, fetishizing a certain saccharine happiness myth that looks like glittery leggings and handstands on the beach. We need to TALK about this stuff, to step into the world with our own armor removed. Nobody wants a teacher who’s all cotton candy, shooting unicorn rainbows out the butt.

3. That said, we need to teach from our scars, not from our open wounds. As an eating disorder survivor, as a postpartum depression survivor, as a woman, as a mother, as a partner, I can serve folks who suffer and struggle with similar life circumstances by saying, “Ok, I’m not perfect, but here are some tools yoga and meditation have taught me that helped me, and maybe they’ll help you, too.”

Our job is to help one another feel better in body and mind, right? To use what we’ve learned and practiced to offer a measure of ease, freedom from bodily suffering, freedom from mental suffering.

So maybe on our bios where we mention how delighted we are to have studied with Rockstar Teacher A and Rockstar Guru B, we can also mention the ways in which we’ve been broken-open and the communities we’ve learned to serve as a result. This recent piece from Josh Korda articulates this idea nicely.

4. We need to be vigilantly self-aware of our own spiritual bypassing. If you don’t know yet what that is, I highly recommend you dig into Buddhist psychologist John Welwood’s work. “Spiritual bypassing” occurs when we use spiritual beliefs and practices to avoid dealing with painful or uncomfortable feelings, wounds, or issues. Lots of this happening in and around yogi social media, amirite?

5. We need to release shame and be bold enough to be vulnerable. Most of us know too well the dangers of constructing a shiny facade. Vulnerability leads to compassion leads to intimacy. Check out Brené Brown on both of these themes if you haven’t done so already.

6. We need to redefine happiness as profound okayness. Tara Brach (another wise and wonderful Buddhist teacher with a psychological bent) offers this grounding definition, and I can’t love it enough. Happiness as profound okayness is key to re-conceiving a yogic approach that’s more than perpetual euphoria (which is not sustainable, nor realistic, for anyone familiar with the First Noble Truth. Life is suffering, bro. Ask the Buddha, he’ll fill you in).

7. We can’t be afraid to get help when we need it. I can never pretend to understand what it’s like to cycle between the manic/depressive episodes of a bipolar diagnosis. We all struggle in our own ways, and are healed or given solace in our own ways.

As Julie Peters’s excellent recent essay argues, “yoga, self-care, and alternative forms of medicine cannot fix everything.” So you do you. Whatever that takes to bring you to thriving. Including meds. Including acupuncture. Including ayurvedic medicine, etc. etc. It’s all gravy.

8. We’ve gotta be humble and authentic—brave enough to stop selling a pretty image. The contemporary yoga scene is dominated by commodification. Most of us teachers are painfully aware of how social media has turned yoga practice into a performative popularity contest, rather than a meditative spiritual discipline and path to freedom from suffering. So what can we do to be more authentic as teachers, to relax into the wabi-sabi qualities of being without spewing our guts like a hot mess? Where’s the balance?

9. Finally, we need to talk more openly about death. Because, as I wrote last year in Yoga International, “death is as real and as sacred and as holy as life. Because suffering and sorrow are the necessary counterparts to contentment and joy. And because I’m willing to bet that some kind of suffering (what Buddhists call dukkha) brought most of us to yoga in the first place—whether it was pain in our knees, or aches in our hearts.”

“When we inspect our everyday experience in detail, we see that death and birth occur one after the other in every successive moment. What we see in one breath cycle we see everywhere.” — MS

My three-year-old son and I made a pilgrimage of sorts to Walden Pond the other day. I showed him the statue of the man who had been Henry David Thoreau, and told him he is dead now. He got sad and serious, and said, “Mama, but will he come back? I don’t want him to be dead.” We sat down on a bench and talked about spirit, and divinity, and perpetuity, and what it means to leave the body. It was the first time he’s ever wondered, or asked.

“How do we go to be with God? What about you and me and daddy? How do our bodies know to breathe? We are still alive, right?”

Later, as I buckled him into his carseat, after we’d swum and fished for tadpoles and hiked to the original site of Thoreau’s cabin, he looked up at me and asked, “Well, what about Ben (his friend from preschool)? Will he die, too?”

Gone, gone, gone beyond.

I thought of Michael often that day at Walden Pond. He had spoken in interviews of his own Thoreauvian experiment, living in a VW bus in the woods in his early 20s. This was one of the things I’d most appreciated about him, that duality of being at once an ascetic, a monastic, and a householder finding awakening in his relationships.

Michael, thank you. Thank you for all your service, your heart, your ethics, the way you worked to transform your own suffering into teachings that might be of so much solace and inspiration to so many. I imagine you had no idea what great impact your teachings have had throughout the world.

And to Michael’s family: our collective hearts have broken over and over in imagining your suffering in the wake of his unexpected loss. To you, Carina, to Michael’s children and to your unborn child, we offer tenderness and peace and strength.

Inhale, begin the vinyasa.

Exhale, sit with the emptiness at the end of the exhalation.

May you rest in the peace that passes all understanding.

* * *

Let’s co-create a list of mental health resources for yoga teachers. You can post them here in the comments or email me at [email protected] and we will compile them and share them here.

Here’s a start:

If you are so inclined, the link to donate to Michael’s family is here.

Tara Brach: Meditation, Psychologist, Author, Teacher

Yogaland Podcast: A true story of overcoming depression, panic & shame

Stephanie Snyder’s TED talk: Learning to Live

On the passing of Michael Stone and mental health in the yoga community (Spirituality & Health)

Why I come clean to my students about my insomnia, anxiety, and sobriety (Tricycle)

A Zen yoga teacher gets real about postpartum depression (Washington Post)

Rachel Meyer is a Boston-based writer and yoga teacher. Her work has appeared in The Washington Post, On Being, Yoga Journal, Tricycle, Yoga International, HuffPost, and more. You can find her at www.rachelmeyeryoga.com or @rachelmeyeryoga.

Image credit (1): Michael Stone Instagram, (2): via MelissaWest.com

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