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#i did research and none of the changes they wanted to make were required for braces so it seems like just wanna charge us more money for -
writeyouin · 3 months
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LMK shadowpeach x foreign fem reader? Its readers first Christmas in China and wants to spend it with the monkeys! Got them a Christmas gift too that’s fitting for the three of them. For some cute fluff, she made some delicious treats from her home country (I probably would make them fry bread or fruit related sweets of the sort)
Sun Wukong X Macaque X Reader (Poly-Shadowpeach) – Chinese Christmas
A/N – So this went a myriad of ways in my head and I kept changing it, and now it’s super different to what I first thought was going to happen. Anyway, here’s the end result, and I got to do some cool research on Christmas in China which was really interesting.
Warnings – None.
Rating – T
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“Would you please calm down?” Macaque growled at Sun Wukong, annoyed since his partner was being more irksome than usual.
Granted, the pair had recently made up after all their years of fighting, but sometimes… Well, the Monkey King had a lot more energy than Macaque, and he wasted it in frivolous ways, always bouncing around and rarely bothering to stay still unless he was choosing to be inconvenient and lazy, in which case it was impossible to make him get up and do whatever was required of him.
Sun Wukong was equally displeased with Macaque, who didn’t seem to be taking his plight seriously.
“Calm down?” He wailed, his search continually frantic as he flew from mountain top to mountain top. “Who can calm down at a TIME LIKE THIS?! (Y/N)’s missing!”
Macaque rubbed his temples, feeling a headache begin to form. “They’re not missing, they’re probably just at their house or-”
“ON CHRISTMAS?” Sun jumped in front of Macaque, grabbing him by the shoulders and wrapping his tail tightly around the darker simian, “Not a chance! I planned everything for today. We were going to go ice skating, get some wrapped apples, sing karaoke, drink hot chocolate, go to that new noodle bar- There’s just no way (Y/N) would miss all that.”
“… Fine. If you must continue this inane search, could you use your gold vision and get it over with already?”
Sun raised a mischievous eyebrow and smirked, “And miss out on the fun of the search?”
Macaque sighed irritably, “You’re seriously having fun with this?”
“Well yeah. What’d be the point if I found (Y/N) immediately? It needs to be dramatic.”
With that, the Monkey King got back to his search, whilst Macaque stepped away to take a breather, and possibly to brood if the mood struck him; relationships were exhausting. As soon as he left Wukong, his sharp hearing picked up your voice at the bottom of the mountain.
“Shoot-” You said upon clearly dropping something.
Macaque smiled as a more forceful expletive followed, and listened more intently. Evidently, you were carrying something and your bag had split. He chuckled and took pity on you, waiting till you had recovered your items before casting out a shadow portal that brought you directly in front of him.
Having been ready to take a step that was no longer in front of you, you stumbled into Macaque’s open arms.
“You always trip,” He commented drily, “You think you’d be used to that by now.”
You smiled up at Macaque, pecking his cheek before replying, “I don’t think I’ll ever be used to that. You always do it when I least expect it.”
“Then you’ve got to learn to expect the unexpected.”
“If I did that, there would never be an unexpected event and my life would become oh so dull.”
Macaque began a witty retort, but he was drowned out by Wukong who hurried over to meet you, crushing you in a hug, clingy as ever. Whenever you were around, there was hardly a moment wherein he wasn’t holding onto you in some manner.
“Peaches!” He exclaimed joyfully, using your affectionately awarded nickname, “I knew you wouldn’t abandon us on Christmas. Where were you? You’ve already wasted half the day.”
“It’s only ten,” You protested.
“Yeah, well I would’ve been there for you at six if we were meeting at your place.”
That was a lie. If it was up to Sun Wukong to come to you, you knew that Macaque would have to drag him out of bed and that it would take him hours to wake from his sleepy state.
“If I say I brought presents, will that make it up to you?” You held up your bag; Macaque smiled when he saw the knot you had tied in the bottom to patch the split.
Sun immediately pushed you away to snatch up the bag, though his tail remained wrapped around your wrist.
“Share,” You reminded him, bringing Macaque back into the loop.
“Can we open these now?” Sun asked, already tearing at the gold paper which marked the presents meant for him.
“Apparently so.”
Macaque was much gentler with his sliver foiled presents. You hadn’t bothered to write any cards or tags. You couldn’t read or write Chinese, and your simian companions were equally unskilled in your native language. Instead, it was easier to treat them like the sun and the moon and wrap their gifts accordingly.
There were some generic little presents at the top of the bag, but soon your loves got to the gifts you had spent months lovingly crafting. Shawls, knitwear, and repaired clothing that both of them had mourned when damaged in battle made the bulk of the gifts. In a second smaller bag were the presents you had made fresh the night before. They were treats you missed from home, sweet breads, pastries, sugared fruits, and brandy snaps.
“Oh yeah,” Sun Wukong bragged, taking the first bite of a cream-filled sugar cone, “We’re going to have a feast tonight.”
“If we make it to tonight alive with all you have planned,” Macaque stated drily, though he spared an affectionate pat to Wukong’s head.
“All you have planned?” You asked, uncertain as to what anyone could do on Christmas Day when everywhere was closed. Alas, you were thinking of home, which differed greatly from China in many ways, Christmas traditions being one of them.
“Well, duh.” Sun Wukong placed a hand proudly on his chest and stood in a heroic position atop a newly summoned cloud. “Do you really think that I, Sun Wukong, the Monkey King and Great Sage Equal to Heaven would have anything less than a perfect day planned for my two true loves?”
“Funny,” Macaque chuckled, tying his new shawl around his neck, “I thought your two true loves were sleeping and making Wukong Dating sims.”
“Oh yeah? And what about you? You only love puppets and being all dramatic and emo.”
“And I love it when my boys don’t argue,” You said, stepping between them before their little spat turned into a contest which would inevitably lead to a fight. Granted, the three of you were a throuple now, but Sun Wukong and Macaque still had a lot of bad blood and unresolved history; some days were more difficult than others when they were learning how to choose love and forgiveness over anger and spite.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?”
Wukong grinned and held you to his side, throwing his free arm up as if physically showing you the day’s schedule while he listed everything off.
Macaque approached you and took your hand gently in his, “Is that all okay? It’s probably a lot different to where you come from.”
You smiled bittersweetly, thinking about all the traditions you would miss out on and how Christmas was more family-oriented where you were from.
“It’s- It’s different to what I’m used to, but… I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I’m just happy to be with you two.”
At that, Sun Wukong softened. He stood in front of you, his tail curling around your waist, “Hey, we don’t have to do this if it’s too much. We can try your traditions if you want.”
“Next year,” You promised. “I want to see how you do things.”
Sun Wukong smiled at both you and Macaque. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He had spent far too long alone, and now he had two people he could spend the holidays with, and even more friends who you were all going to meet; he wouldn’t have it any other way.
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sourwolf-sterek32 · 4 months
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The Dirt (Your Version)
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Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.
Or
A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.
Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings: Past child abuse, and of course, excessive alcohol and substance abuse.
A/N: More specific warnings will be added for certain chapters when required. I also just wanted to add in a quick disclaimer and say that through my research, Vince Neil's parents sounded like nice, decent people. However, this is a fanfic and for the purpose of this story and the plot, I am changing that.
Chapter 1- My Kinda Lover
Growing up, you always knew your big brother Vince had what it took to become a rockstar.
As kids, his favourite place other than the beach was the roller-skating rink where they held lip-synching contests. Vince would drag you there with his surfer buddy John and sign up every time. He'd dress up in flared pants, loud open button polyester shirts, wigs and other accessories he thought rockstars were supposed to wear and you'd help him.
It was during those lip-synching contests where Vince discovered his love for performing. He'd jump around on stage, goofed off, played air guitar and threw the microphone around. The crowd ate it up, and he always won. Always.
It wasn't long before the lip-synching turned into actual singing and your brother had a damn good voice even as a teenager. And not long after that he joined a band. Rock Candy.
It was during one of his performances with the cover band that his path to becoming a rockstar kicked off.
Vince was in the middle of singing his cover for My Kinda Lover on the small stage with his band. You'd sing as a backup singer for Rock Candy occasionally, but this song didn't require it, so you hung by the drinks table swirling your Jack and coke around in a solo cup and listened.
The drink was an important necessity every time Rock Candy performed because you weren't sure how you'd get through watching all those girls fawn over your big brother without it. They were practically throwing themselves on him whenever he performed and although you hated it, Vince absolutely lapped up all the attention from them.
There had been a few incidences where drunk girls got too handsy with him. Pulling at his clothes or jumping on stage just to touch him. One time a woman grabbed his scarf and literally pulled him down into the crowd of crazy females. By the time he managed to get back on stage, half his clothes had been torn off and that was when you stepped in and started ordering people out or breaking noses... usually the latter.
Most women treated your brother like a piece of meat. Like he was nothing more than a toy for them to play with and admire. And Vince, although he would never admit it, he didn't enjoy it all the time.
So, even when not on stage with him, you kept an eye on everything and that was when you spotted the three men.
They stood out amongst the crowd of young people dressed in the bare minimum while they wore leather and dark pants with their jet-black hair. You clocked them the second they walked through the crowd as people who shouldn't be here.
No way guys dressed like that would be interest in listening to Vince's cover band. So, what did they want? Trouble, probably.
You hung back eyeing the men cautiously before they began to make their way over to the drinks stand where you still were. None of them paid you any attention while you leant against the side of the table sipping your drink.
It wasn't like you blended in with the crowd here either, so you couldn't judge the strangers too harshly. Your own tight jeans and leather jacket might as well be a full body suit compared to the other girls crop tops and tiny shorts.
"His voice ain't bad." One of the men suddenly said speaking up for the first time since they got to the drinks stand.
"I don't care if he can sing or not. Look what he's doing to those chicks." The other responded.
The three guys continued to watch your brother sing on stage while pointing and commenting quiet words that you couldn't quite catch.
Downing the last of your Jack and coke, you pushed yourself away from the drinks table and took a step to the side until you were blocking their view to the stage and folded your arms across your chest defensively.
"What do you guys want from Vince?"
The man in the middle holding a bottle of Jack Daniels instantly stood up straight sizing you up.
The older man to his right remained silent and looked over your shoulder back towards the stage seemingly bored by your presence, so you kept your attention focused on the middle guy whose gaze hadn't left yours, but he didn't seem like he was going to answer your question either.
"Don't make me repeat myself." You said bluntly.
His brows furrowed into a frown, the blankness on his expression twisting into annoyance but before he could say anything, the younger guy to his left spoke up.
"Holy fucking shit. Y/N?"
That had your head snapping away from the middle guy instantly and the second you saw that goofy smile and long hair, realisation hit you like a truck.
Tommy Lee.
Well, shit. You weren't expecting to see him here.
You didn't recognise him earlier. His hair used to be lighter, but now it was black. It suited him though.
The last time you saw him was when you and Vince were living in his van about a year ago. So much had happened since then.
A smile broke out across your face which made Tommy's smile brighten further before he held his arms out a little hesitantly like he wasn't sure if a hug would be an acceptable greeting. If it was anyone else, no, a hug wouldn't be acceptable, maybe a handshake at the most, but this wasn't anyone, this was Tommy.
"Good to see you, Tommy." You said accepting the hug.
His long lanky arms instantly wrapped around your body tightly and you hugged him back, tucking your head against his chest and closing your eyes thinking back to the last time you had seen him.
Your father was a mechanic who worked for L.A. County repairing sheriff's cars. He had so many friends within the law enforcement department, he thought he could get away with anything... and he was right.
When he wasn't at work fixing cars or buddying up to the local cops, he was at home getting high and drinking. And the combination of drugs and alcohol made him mad. It made him angry. It made him abusive.
Your stepmother, Vince's real mother, wouldn't stand for your father's crap and they'd end up in screaming matches against each other. They'd yell, scream, cry and break things from the living room nearly every night.
Vince could always tell when the fighting was about to start, and once you got older, you saw the warning signs too before World War III erupted in the house. When you were little Vince would take you to his bedroom and lock the door while blasting music through his stereo so you couldn't hear the screaming and fighting. He'd make it fun and would use his hairbrush as a makeshift microphone and the two of you would sing and dance on top of his bed trying to forget about what was happening across the house.
When you got older and the fighting would start up, you'd both slip out his bedroom window and get away for a few hours until your father calmed down or passed out from drinking. But sometimes you weren't quick enough to get away.
Those nights were the worst because his anger would turn onto you and Vince.
Vince always took the blunt of his anger. He always tried to protect you from your father's rage and violence, but sometimes he couldn't.
You were eight years old the first time your father ever hit you. He was mad about something -staying up too late, not doing homework, playing music too loud, you couldn't remember - it didn't matter anyway.
Your father was always in a terrible mood, the alcohol and drugs made him worse and at the slightest provocation he would take out his frustration on the nearest thing or person which was usually you, despite Vince trying his best to not let that happen.
Your father never outright said it, but you reminded him of the affair he had with another woman -your mother- the woman who dumped a baby at his perfect white picket fence home door with a single note.
'Your daughter, Y/N. I'm sorry'
Vince's mother had taken you in and raised you like her own without hesitation, despite your father wanting nothing to do with you.
You were 16 years old the last time he ever beat you... and the first time he nearly killed you.
"Just stay awake, okay? Keep your eyes on me." Vince practically begged while he sped down the road away from the hell you called home. "We'll be at the hospital soon. Stay awake."
You leant heavily against the passenger side door of the car while holding his scarf against the side of your head. The scarf had started off white but was now stained a bright crimson along with the collar of your shirt.
Blood was trickling down the side of your face from the deep gash on your forehead. The warm liquid sticking and matting in your hair as you struggled to keep your eyes open.
"N-no hospital. We can't afford it." You winced, tilting your head to the side to look at your brother, but even that slight movement felt like agony against your pounding head.
Vince clenched his jaw at your words, his hands tightening and untightening around the steering wheel as he drove, but he didn't argue because you were right. You had no money. And if you went to the hospital, they'd call your father, the very same man you were running from.
"We should go back." You whispered closing your eyes and leaning your head back against the seat behind you. "We have nowhere else to go."
"Hey, no, open your eyes. And we are not going back." Vince stated sternly while he reached over and shook your shoulder until you reluctantly opened your eyes despite wanting nothing more than to just sleep the pain away. "I'm not letting him anywhere near you again. Got it?"
"You can't protect me from everything, big brother."
"I can try."
Before you knew it, Vince was pulling up into the driveway in front of a decent looking house that you couldn't recognise.
"I'll be back. Don't fall asleep."
He was out the car before you could respond, and you watched through the windshield as he ran up to the house and knocked on the front door until a guy you recognised from high school answered.
"Vinnie, what up, dude?" Tommy greeted with a bright smile.
"I... we need a place to stay. Can we..." Vince trailed off while pointing towards a van parked along the side of the house.
"Who's we?"
Vince nodded over his shoulder to where you were sitting in the car holding the bloodied scarf to your forehead.
Tommy's eyes widened in a mixture of shock and panic, "holy shit. Is she okay?"
"No. Not really." Vince admitted, emotion thick in his voice. "Can we crash in your van for a few days?"
"Of course." Tommy answered without hesitation.
-
"I've missed you, dude." Tommy's voice said, snapping you out of your thoughts as the two of you pulled apart.
His eyes shifted to your forehead searching for the scar that he knew was hidden behind your hair. It seemed you weren't the only one who had been thinking back to the last time you saw each other.
"I'm in a band with these dudes." Tommy explained after a few beats of silence. "Guys, this is Y/N. She's Vince's sister. I was in the same grade as her in high school."
Both men nodded but didn't say anything. Instead, they turned their attention over your shoulder to where your brother was still performing in front of the crowd.
Seriously, what did they want from Vince?
"Yeah, Vinnie!!" Tommy cheered enthusiastically as the song came to an end.
"Thank you! We're Rock Candy!" Your brother shouted into the microphone.
"Shitty name."
You turned to glare at the older and very serious-looking man. Sure, you kind of agreed with him. Rock Candy wasn't a great name, but only you were allowed to insult your brother.
"Okay, seriously, why are you guys here and what do you want with my brother?" You questioned, the smile from seeing Tommy vanishing from your face as you got down to business.
"We're looking for a singer for the band." The one drinking Jack Daniels straight finally said.
"And who the fuck are you?"
His sea green eyes shifted back to you, looking you up and down briefly before meeting your gaze.
"Nikki Sixx."
You stared at him for a moment before nodding, "okay, Sixx. Why do you want my brother?"
Vince looked nothing like these guys. Your brother loved white. He'd wear that white t-shirt you had ripped up the sides of and sewn together with lace everywhere because it was his favourite. He had his hair dyed as white as he could get it and fluffed it until it added half a foot to his height. It was his style, and it was the opposite to these guys.
"He's fucking perfect, man." Tommy responded.
"He's pretty good. Got moves." Nikki admitted without answering your question.
Tommy suddenly darted off, pushing his way through the crowd to where Vince was now walking after finishing the last song. Nikki and the older guy didn't say anything else to you, so you didn't speak to them either while you watched Tommy and Vince embrace in a hug and chat for a few minutes before Tommy returned with his signature smile.
"He's in. I think."
You glanced back over to your brother across the crowd as he tucked the tape that Tommy had given him into his pocket without much thought because he was too focused on the blonde-haired woman chatting him up.
Nah, Vince wasn't in.
-
Later that night, you found yourself sitting in the bed of your old Ford F150 truck parked on the beach away from humanity because it was quietest spot and best place to sleep.
Between your shifts at the diner downtown and Vince working as an electrician apprentice plus his small gigs with Rock Candy, it still wasn't enough to afford a house or apartment. Vince usually crashed in the bedrooms of which ever girl he was seeing that week while you slept in a sleeping bag in the back of your truck.
It wasn't so bad, especially this time of year. During winter it was harder, and you were going to figure something else out, but that was a few months away and a problem for later. For now, you were going to enjoy the peaceful beach and sound of waves crashing against the shore like a lullaby every night.
You laid in the bed of your truck staring up at the stars shimmering in the sky above you. The cool breeze was slowly starting to kick in, but not enough for you to grab a blanket out from under the front seat.
Something suddenly slammed against the tailgate of your truck causing you to bolt upright and reach for the pocketknife stashed under your pillow only to find your brother leaning against the side of your truck trying not to laugh.
"One of these days, I'm gonna actually stab you and I'm not even gonna be sorry." You warned pointing at him with the knife.
Vince rolled his eyes, "you shouldn't keep parking in the same spot. Creeps might start to notice."
"Oh, creeps like you?" You shot back causing Vince to glare, but there was no real heat behind it.
"I'm serious though. If some pedo realises a young girl sleeps out here alone, that little knife won't do much to stop him. You need a gun or something."
"I can't afford a gun."
"I can steal you one." He suggested.
"Please don't."
Vince snorted softly before pulling down the tailgate of your truck and sitting on it while overlooking the ocean that was lit up by the full moon shining brightly in the sky above it.
"What happened to your new girl? Her daddy kick you out?" You teased, referring back to a few weeks ago when a girl's father did actually kick him out and he ended up in the back of your truck keeping you awake with his snoring.
"Nah, her dad wasn't home."
You frowned a little at his words because if he hadn't been kicked out of the girl's house then why wasn't he sleeping in her comfy bed or at the very least, her couch?
"Tommy gave me this. Said to listen to it and call him." He pulled a tape out from his pocket and held it out towards you. "It's all I've been thinking about. I couldn't even get it up when I was in bed with her."
"Eww! Too much information, Jesus Christ." You swore taking the tape before jumping out the truck and opening the driver side door turning the key to accessories before inserting the tape into the stereo cranking the volume up.
You sat on the tailgate beside Vince while you listened to the music together on the beach where nobody could see or hear for miles.
It hurt to admit, but fuck, they were pretty good.
"This shits on Rock Candy, no offence." You commented and to your own shock, Vince actually nodded in agreement. "You gonna call Tommy and his sketchy friends to join their even sketchier band?"
"What do you think?" He asked, but it wasn't a question. He was going to call.
-
Next Chapter
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A/N:
So, this fanfic came out of nowhere.
I recently saw Mötley Crüe during their last show of the World Tour in Melbourne (I am still pinching myself. It was the best night ever!) and seeing them in person literally kickstarted my obsession for them.
I grew up listening to my dad’s 80s music which obviously included Mötley Crüe. I still remember Girls Girls Girls blasting through the car on the way to school when I was 8. And although I’ve liked their music since I was a kid, I never really knew much about them beyond that.
But when my dad asked if I wanted to go to the Mötley Crüe concert with him, I didn’t even hesitate.
I’ll be honest, I had never watched The Dirt before until Vince said during the concert that Mötley Crüe had made a movie and I googled it as soon as I got home.
After watching the movie and seeing them live in concert, I was hooked.
I bought their book The Dirt and binged it in 2 days (that is one hell of a rollercoaster to read) and now I’m literally typing this while wearing a Mötley shirt.
I won’t try and pretend to have been a Cruehead all my life because that isn’t true, but I am so incredibly glad that I have found this love for Mötley Crüe and I hope you all enjoy this fanfic xx
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throneofsapphics · 3 months
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Can i ask for something similar to it only takes three azriel x reader but like where reader struggles with an ed and suicidal thoughts and it gets really bad
If not thats ok I understand that can be triggering i loved how you wrote for it inly takes three it was good I really enjoy your writhing your very talented 🤍
from the shadows 
Summary: “It would’ve been nice, you supposed, if he’d cared before you were already balancing on the edge.”
Warnings: toxic parents/friendships, ed, suicidal ideation, drinking, depression 
Word Count: ~2.7k 
A/N: ahh you’re so kind, thank you for the request!
Did you want someone to notice? Not really. These battles were supposed to be your own to fight. Every time you’d brought it up to your parents, they told you it means you need to be stronger, that your mind is weak. 
You stared at the food in front of you, waging a mental war with it. Each time you tried to touch food, words and memories would slide into your mind. 
The half-finished plate is pulled away from you. “Don’t eat too much, dear,” your mother tutted.
Closing your eyes, you let out a long breath. 
“Are you going to eat that?” Cassian asked. 
“All yours,” you pushed it towards him. He shot you a grateful grin, and slid your food onto his plate. You could’ve sworn you saw a muscle in Azriel’s jaw flex, but he didn’t say a word. 
You registered everything, but none of it held any meaning. Nothing mattered, you were trapped in this endless void. Haze clouded your world. Muted colors, dimmed voices, even the air surrounding you felt lifeless. Each smile a facade, each action and response carefully measured, everything designed to make it seem fine. To make you seem fine. 
There wasn’t any other option. Anything else felt like failure to you. Weak, weak, weak. Each time you’d reached out before - every time to your parents or old friends, your hand was slapped away with a scathing gaze and cutting remark. 
‘Just deal with it.’ 
‘You’re being dramatic.’ 
‘Stop looking for attention.’ 
So you did. Everything stayed inside - under firm lock and key. Your conscience argued against itself, you had different friends now. Friends that gave the appearance of caring, that seemed genuine -
“Hey,” a voice called, a hand waving in front of your face. Blinking, you brought your consciousness back into the present. Mor. “Where did you go?” 
Was that concern or worry in her tone? Maybe. 
“Just a memory,” you forced a smile you hoped was reassuring. She didn’t look convinced. From your peripheral, you spotted narrowed hazel eyes watching you, a shadow swirling around the bearer's ear. “What do you have planned for today?” You deflected. 
Mor, face still lined with a tinge of worry, took the bait. 
-
Laying on the bedroom floor, studying the dips and whirls of the ceiling, the hard wood surface dug into your back. Today was the day you’d decided to say something. To build up the courage to ask for help. Azriel, who you’d always gone to. It was getting bad enough you knew something needed to change, and you were the only one who could start it. ‘Asking for help makes me strong,’ you reminded yourself. 
The door creaked open, and you knew who it was before he saw you. Maybe you should be embarrassed, getting caught like this. But … you’ve already hit the bottom, and it didn’t matter anymore if others saw it.  
A scarred hand loomed in front of you, coming from an amused looking Azriel. You took it, and his fingers closed around you, warm and comforting. He yanked you to your feet - hard enough you stumbled forward a few steps, catching yourself with a hand on his chest. 
“You’re lighter than I remember,” he commented, scanning over your body. Your shoulders lifted and fell. Azriel frowned, but dropped your hand - leading you out of the room instead. 
“Where are we going?” Your voice was rough. When was the last time you’d spoken to someone? Working in the library, doing research, didn’t require it, and people were rarely around the townhouse. 
“Meeting,” he answered - his voice a bit short. Like he was annoyed you had to ask. You dropped his hand.
A meeting nobody had told you about. 
“I didn’t know.” 
He cast a sidelong glance at you, studying you briefly, deciding if you were lying or not. When had he started questioning that? Throughout all of these years, you’d provided him with nothing but honesty. Azriel, your close friend and on and off lover. 
Maybe he read the confusion on your face. 
“You’ve been hiding something.” 
That made you pause in your tracks. “Excuse me?”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.” 
“What do you mean?” Fury rose in you, heart pounding, chest tightening, face blazing. 
Azriel stood there, watching you with that cool quiet. Long enough you realized it was a tactic, waiting for you to offer up information. Like you were one of the prisoners he interrogated. Gods, your anger only grew and grew. 
“Ask me,” your fists clenched. “Ask me what’s wrong.” 
His mouth tightened at the corners, a sign you were testing his patience. 
A clock ticked in your head, counting each second, both of you staring at each other - seeing who would speak first. Thirty. That was it for you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, turning on your heel. If he didn’t have the decency to ask, you wouldn’t tell him a damn thing. 
Azriel expected you to offer everything up on a silver platter. To come to him for everything, like you had in the past. 
You were about to, and now you felt like a fool for even thinking of it. 
For all this time, you thought you’d kept it hidden well enough that nobody noticed. Now it’s clear - he’d seen something, and chosen to ignore it, watching from his shadows and not doing a damn thing. If the person you trusted the most saw you struggling and didn’t bother, what does that mean? 
It meant you weren’t going to crawl all the way to someone who wouldn’t move an inch for you. 
You prayed you’d somehow find the strength to deal with this on your own. 
Feet and instinct guiding, you found yourself down by the Sidra - a secluded area. You fell, gravel digging into your knees and palms, hands pulling at your hair. A shield wrapped around you, cloaking you from sight and sound. Nobody could hear your screams, and right now - that’s the way you wanted it. 
Distantly, you heard the rain clattering on your shield, the sound normally would bring comfort - but now it felt like some kind of beating drum, like a haunting melody. Light flashed in your vision, streaking across the sky before striking the ocean. Maybe it would hit you too. 
Screaming. It could have been hours or minutes you sat there, tears flooding from your eyes and throat burning. It was supposed to make you feel better, but if anything it got worse. Numbness overtook you, drowning out every other sensation. You could fall off a cliff and feel nothing, maybe until your broken body hit the rocks below. 
Weak. Weak. Weak. 
Was it that? Or did it make you strong enough to end your own suffering? 
Different images flooded your mind. Fighting back a laugh at one of Mor’s presents, offering your thanks instead. Watching live music in the rainbow. Azriel taking you flying for the first time. 
Like cold rain, the thought of him pulled you out of your mind. What would he say if he saw you like this? Probably nothing, but he’d think you’re pathetic. 
Good thing you didn’t give a damn what he thought anymore. You stood, brushing the gravel from your knees and palms, frowning at the small indents left behind on your palms, and let the shield disappear. 
This was where the Sidra tumbled out into the ocean. The rocky cliff, seldom frequented, where you could truly be alone. 
You didn’t really want to die … but you took another step towards the edge, peering closer. This way wouldn’t be quick, your body would break but you’d lie on the rocks below for hours, maybe trapped between them - slowly drowning under the waves. 
“Y/n,” someone called - and you startled, body starting to launch over -
Shadows curled around you, dragging you back several feet, Azriel’s arms wrapped around your waist - holding you tight. “I’ve been looking for you,” he murmured, still holding tight. 
At least your shield had done its job. Still, he was the last person you wanted to see right now. Catching him by surprise, you stomped on his insole and wiggled out of his grip - just like he’d taught you. Taking a few steps, not daring to turn your eyes away from him, you watched something like fear cross over his features. 
He held his hands up, palms facing you. “Stop, please.” 
Water sprayed against your calves. You’d gotten close to the edge again, without noticing. Looking over your shoulder, it would only take a few more steps. 
Do it,  the demon in your head screamed at you. He’d be relieved. 
Turning your gaze back to him, worry shone there. It would’ve been nice, you supposed, if he’d cared before you were already balancing on the edge. There was no doubt his shadows would interfere if you got any closer, but for now he was giving you a choice. Letting you choose to walk away from the edge. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand turned - reaching out to you instead. Teeth tugging into your bottom lip, you realized there was a decision to make.
It really wasn’t much of a decision at all, you ignored his hand, and brushed past him - making for the Townhouse. 
-
Like an annoying guard dog, Azriel trailed you the rest of the way home. You didn’t see him, but you could feel his presence - moving through the shadows. You’d walked away, hadn’t you? He could leave you the fuck alone now. 
Stopping for a bottle of wine, you made your way back to your bedroom. Meeting forgotten. Leaning your back against the door, a bit of magic popped the cork out. Funny, wine was one of the few things you could tolerate now. Maybe because of the release it brought. 
You scented him, then heard a knock. You ignored it. 
A sigh, and the sound of someone sliding against wood. 
-
Azriel wouldn’t leave you, not like this. His shadows peered inside to tell him what you were doing. Sitting against the door, drinking right from the bottle. He could feel your warmth through the wood, a barrier separating the two of you. He mirrored your position. 
If you didn’t want him inside, that was fair enough, he still wouldn’t leave. Not when you were just standing on the edge of a fucking cliff. Two hours spent searching for you when he noticed a small disturbance in the rain - droplets displaced before they struck the ground, and decided to wait a few minutes. Just in time for you to appear. 
You’d always come to him in the past, and it was wrong for him to expect you to again. He’d already cast a thought out to Rhys and told him to clear everything for the next week. 
Azriel had just nodded off, when he heard movement. He barely had time to stand before the door swung open, spotting you - half empty bottle of wine on the floor, bracing your hand on the wall next to the door. 
“You can leave.” 
“I’m not going anywhere.” 
The door slammed shut again. Fine, he could wait. 
-
“Talk to me,” Azriel pleaded and grabbed both of your hands, squeezing, his thumbs running over your knuckles. You ripped them away from him, shooting him a scathing look and storming past into the dining room. Inviting him in had been a mistake. The intent was to prove you were fine, and tell him he could stop hovering on your doorstep, but if anything he seemed more worried at the end. 
You couldn’t hear anyone else in the house. Good. You didn’t want to deal with anyone. Sitting at the dining table, a plate appeared in front of you - a single muffin. One of your favorites. Swallowing harshly, you reached one shaking hand out for it. 
Inches away, your hand fell to the table. Fuck. 
Just one bite, you told yourself. 
Steeling yourself, you reached again. Trembling fingers peeled back the paper, and you brought it to your lips. The scent of blueberries filled you, and the feeling of crusted sugar brushed against your lips. 
One bite.
“Hey,” you heard Mor. The spell broke, and you dropped the muffin back on the plate. “Don’t let me stop you,” she winked, pulling out the seat across from you. Her own muffin appeared, and she took a bite herself - moaning at the taste. 
Somehow, that helped, and you took one of your own. 
-
You hadn’t noticed him, thankfully, but Azriel watched from the shadows and felt like an idiot. Somehow, Mor’s presence for a few minutes brought more light to your eyes than he’d seen in months. Or maybe it was that you managed to eat some of that muffin. 
Those hours he sat outside of your door … had they been worthless? 
Maybe, maybe not, but at least he’d proven he was there for you - even if it was a bit too late. 
If you didn’t want him physically in your proximity, he could wait in the shadows. 
Waiting didn’t help before.
He’d read the expression on your face - on that cliff, and understood your anger. 
Azriel was waiting for you to come to him, when he should’ve been the one reaching out. 
Walking out of hearing range, his palm slammed against the wall, forehead resting on the cool wood. If he couldn’t do this one damned thing right, what did that say about him? 
-
For a while, Azriel really did think you were getting better. You smiled more, ate more, and had a spark of life in you. But, as the weeks went on, he saw you draw further into yourself. Plate half full, eyes dull. This time, he’d actually do something about it - even if you shoved the door in his face. 
Your door was already open, so he pushed a bit further, knocking. 
Bleary eyed, you lifted your head from your desk and sighed, but jerked your head. He surveyed your room, taking in the books piled everywhere, empty bottles, clothes strewn over chairs haphazardly. A mess. 
“What do you want?” The words weren’t sharp or cutting - although he’d prefer that to the emptiness in your voice. The bleakness of your expression, even though he could only see your profile - eyes unfocused on the book in front of you. 
“You’re struggling. Again.” Not the most eloquent, but he got right to the point. 
“What’s it to you?” Narrowed eyes finally looked up at him. Cautious. Wary. Even months ago, you’d never looked at him like that before. 
“I care about you.” Maybe he expected your eyes to soften - to show some kind of understanding, but if anything they only hardened further. You didn’t believe him. He tried a different tactic. “Is it that hard to admit you need help?” 
“Yes,” your voice rose, but he didn’t take a step back or flinch. He could deal with your anger, anything’s better than the distance, and that veritable wall you put up between them.  
“Why?” 
“It means i’m weak,” the first tears lined your eyes as you shifted in your chair to face him. He could see all of the sharp angles of your face, even more defined now - and not in a good way. There was no shine to your hair or eyes, none of that normal glow to your skin. 
“You don’t believe that.” 
“You don’t know that.” 
“I know you.” 
A sigh, and your hand ran down your face. “Why are you here, Az?” 
“I don’t like seeing you … hurting.” 
“You didn’t bother before,” you countered. 
“And I regret that,” cautiously, he reached out and grabbed your hand. You didn’t protest or fight him, and he took that as a good sign, letting his other hand brush away one of your tears, the droplet catching on his thumb. Even with the tear gone, he brushed his thumb across your cheek again, savoring the smooth feeling of your skin. Ever so slightly, you leaned into him. Catching yourself, you jerked back, but didn’t let go of his hand - if anything you seemed to grip onto him tighter. As if he might disappear and leave you by yourself again. That wouldn’t happen. 
“I don’t know how you can help.” 
His thumb brushed back and forth over your knuckles. “We can figure that out.” 
The slightest smile appeared on your face, and lingered. 
azriel taglist: @acourtofinkandpapyrus if anyone wants to be added please let me know!
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Plastic hearts - (9)
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But what would you do if I went to touch you now?What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?
🤭👀🦋
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You appointed your sous chef to run the restaurant while you wanted to work the first few months to get the school lunch system in order. The kitchen facility was much less advanced to what you had access to before and the menu needed a revamp. None of the kids were getting any nutritious meals in and upon further research it was easier to understand why not many students were willing to have their meals here. For the price they were paying, they did not receive food they liked.
The benefit of being from an established restaurant meant you got your own office within the school and it felt empowering. To have your own corner. It felt like as the days passed, your sleeplessness was getting worse and all you could think of was how hard it was to try and be anything else other than what this world expected women to be. You wanted to quit your job or resort to being comfortable with just being in the background.
It was like a new wave of bitterness and futility that had taken every woman by a storm. A few of them were like zombies, not lively as they had once been before. The hallway chatter had died down, a lot of companies began to struggle, all over the world it was becoming more apparent. That if women were taken out of the system, it began to fail on itself.
But through this you were facing another unique challenge on your own. You had asked for time with Ken, to contemplate on that friendship and process his return. You had at minimum expected him to have popped up into your life again to remind you he needed an answer, or buy his way in with treats and flamboyant gestures to convince you he was trying but none of that happened over the past week. He was firstly busy with his schedule but then he never went out of his way to find you. But even if he had done so you would know because you were avoiding him, only out of the need to observe him from afar.
Once the meals for the day and week were sorted all that you needed to do was oversee the execution and make sure the pantry was stocked with the required ingredients while managing the budget. Which gave you a little extra time to snoop around.
You opened up your phone to start the first step, to check if he had any social media presence and your search came up with nothing. He wasn’t anywhere online. He would turn up to school 10 mins early just to be there to welcome the kids who needed to come to library to study and some days would surprise them with a box of donuts.
When you walked down the corridors you would always here the sound of children laughing and him making jokes. The more you observed him to try to find a characteristic that could label him or show you that deep down he was just as bad as any other guy, you couldn’t. There was no flaw.
Come lunch time, he would sit alone to have his meal, his eyes occasionally catching yours when you stood behind the counter and before he could initiate a conversation you would leave, to hide inside the service area.
It was just that when you’ve wanted to be right so badly, admitting defeat to being proven wrong made you feel a lot more humiliated.
You were walking back to your office post the lunch rush when you could hear him down the hallway. His voice animated as he narrated a story and it drew you towards the library door. From the glass window in it, you could seen him, wearing a paper crown while all the other children were gathered around him wearing some form of character related clothing, all taking part in the story telling.
The smile on these toddler’s faces caused you to smile too. But there was one issue that you couldn’t resolve. How was it that he had brought forth a change in himself while you were struggling for it? even after having visited the real world before you did.
“God, he’s so good with kids. It’s unbelievable.”, someone slid up next to you. Turning to see who it was, you found yourself standing next to the school principal.
“He just turned up at my doorstep one day. I was skeptical cause he had no work experience but look at that face.”, she smirked.
You weren’t interested in listening to her take, it astonished you that most failed to value him for his character and only chose to exploit him for his physical beauty.
“Who can stay no to all of that?”, she gossiped but your eyes could only focus on him.
His sandy blonde hair turning golden as it caught the afternoon light, the pastel pink shirt he wore reminded you of where you had come from. It made you feel special, that wherever you were, you and him had that special connection to exist in a world of your own.
“He’s more than that.”, you said confidently to which she hummed half heartedly.
“But just between us girls though. I believe he already has a girlfriend. I tried to kiss him once and he let it slip.”, she shrugged her shoulders as if her comment was well intentioned but it was rather a way of letting you know that you didn’t have any more chance than she did.
“But hey, until I see a ring on that girl’s finger nothing is set in stone.”, she laughed as she patted your arm but you couldn’t find the humor in her statement.
Every day you learnt something new about this city and this place. But to take a step back from your own problems, you only found more. To understand that just as vulnerable as you were, he was too.
As you looked into the class again, his eyes were on you as he settled the kids into their nap time. He stood up, beginning to walk towards you. The hair on your arms stood up with the shameful feeling of having been caught. You weren’t brave enough to stay, to face him. So you bolted the other direction annoyed with yourself that you were behaving like a teenager.
The day was almost over and you were at ease knowing that since today was friday evening, if you snuck out without him knowing, then you had the whole weekend to yourself without this constant gnawing crush feasting on your mind. You couldn’t put yourself through it again, to have him infiltrate your mind. You knew how it went last time, so why try again. You just wanted to snuff before it consumed you whole.
You put away your folders and stepped out after making sure there was no one around. You locked your door and quickly began to walk towards the school entrance, throwing glances over your shoulder keeping a vigilant watch for Ken.
But suddenly you felt a warm hold around your wrist and then a firm tug, which altered your course of direction from the school's entrance to the Janitor’s closet. You were going to scream, absolutely convinced this was an abduction when a hand wrapped around your mouth. Your back rested on his chest as he shushed you, just by the softness of his touch you could tell it was the one man you were trying to hide from.
He watched the crack beneath to door, only to watch a passing shadow and the sound of clicking heels against the floor tiles. But all you could focus on was how his muscles were taut beneath his shirt, his warm breath slipping down the back of your neck and the rhythm of his rapid heart that beat in sync with yours. It was sureal, hearing his heart beat for the first time, it reminded you that he was real.
As the sound faded, he relaxed and let go of you. But you were grateful for the dark, he couldn’t see how deep your cheeks were flushed.
“What were you thinking?”, you whispered quickly.
“I wanted to talk to you.”, he responded.
“You don’t kidnap people for that.”, you gestured around you.
“No, I’ve made sure you don’t take off running again.”, he narrowed his eyes at you.
“Yeah, I see you and your little schemes.”, he continued knowing you remained silent.
“Schemes? What schemes?”, you mumbled as he drew closer, there was no where else to run now, because he had his arms on either side and a mischievous rumble in his voice.
“You’ve been avoiding me, Briella.”, he tilted his head so he could maintain eye contact.
Your palms were sweating, your heart was beating faster than it should, your knees felt weak and some part of you wanted to pull him in closer.
You wanted to deny it so as you thought of an excuse, you opened your mouth to say it but he placed his hand over your lips again. Hearing the sound of the Principal’s heels coming closer again. This felt like a secret mission, that for the first time since setting foot here, you felt the rush of adrenaline. The space was getting a little stuffy as you breathed in sync with him. His eyes finding yours again as you both waited, afraid she was going to open the door and discover you two here, huddled together in a rather compromising exchange.
But the fear turned into a thrill as he grinned and you knew, that there was no use fighting this. He was going to take residence in your mind once again.
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hillbillyoracle · 1 year
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Getting Moving When You’re Stuck in a Small Room
I like sharing my notes with people and I’ve heard from a few people that I am not the only person who is disabled, living with high conflict people, or just stuck spending a lot of time in one room generally. These resources are also great for people who are depressed or just need a low barrier to exercise generally.  
Framework: For me, movement is a bit like the old school food pyramid. The bottom is gentle cardio/walking, the middle is strength, and the top is stretching and enjoyable activities. I put most of my time and effort into maintaining a walking practice and less as I go up. It might help to know that walking done indoors generally takes longer than walking done outdoors. More frequent movement breaks throughout the day might be more helpful and bearable than one big chunk. 
Mindset: I think it’s also important to keep in mind that none of these are going to “fix you”. They’re not a thing to beat yourself up for not doing. Every time you choose to do a little more movement in your day, you’re planting a seed. You don’t lose that seed just because you didn’t exercise for the last several days, weeks, months, or even years. The more you plant, eventually some of them will sprout into fruitful benefits - but just planting one is better than not planting any. Because even one has more opportunity to bring you benefit - planting none can’t don’t do that. You planted that seed and nothing can take that away from you.
So here are some resources I use for getting more movement in with about 2′ x 6′ of clear space in my room (total space 8′ x 8′; full bed and book shelves).
Get Fit with Rick - Walking Workouts
youtube
Get Fit with Rick was my lightbulb moment. It was about a year into the pandemic. Conflict with my partner was keeping me from wanting to so much as pass her in the hallway to get to the door some days so I started researching what was possible to do indoors. So many workouts required equipment, were loud if you were in an apartment, or were boring as hell. 
But some how I stumbled onto Rick Bhuller’s walking workouts and it felt honestly a little bit life changing. It was something I could do with headphones in, quietly, in my own space. 
I like his music taste, he gives you variations so you can make it harder or easier as you need, and it doesn’t require much space. Some moves don’t work in my extremely small usable area now, but I can still get through most of the workouts without having to change much. His 5k step workouts are on the higher end of what he does so if you need a shorter workout he’s got you covered. 
While he does mention weight loss on occasion, it’s not his focus. He has a very positive coaching style that really just encourages you to have fun with it.  
Hybrid Calisthenics - Strength/Bodyweight Workouts
youtube
I fucking love Hampton. 
He’s got such a lovely energy and is an incredibly positive and resilient person. When it comes to this workout videos, he focuses building a foundation for healthy functional movement and preventing injury. He teaches bodyweight progressions and doesn’t make any one progression the goal. 
While his pullup methods might not work in a very small space, everything else has for me. I can do it all on a yoga mat that fits in my little walkway. For the pullups, I replace them with rows that I do with a milk jug filled with water to at least get something in. I might look into kettlebells as I get stronger. Hoping he’ll make a video at some point with some variations. 
I still struggle with strength training but I’m the most consistent I’ve ever been thanks to his positive and adaptive style of teaching. 
His website is probably the most accessible way to get into his content. 
Dayana Wang - Workouts in Bed
youtube
Content warning with her stuff that much of it uses dated and toxic weight loss language so if you find that triggering I would skip her videos. 
But if you can tolerate that, her bed workouts are really helpful! I did these when pain was keeping me from getting out of bed. I’d just follow along until I couldn’t anymore. I slept better and felt better and my flares were a little shorter as a result. 
Take care not to strain yourself with some of the moves. Depending on the firmness of your bed, some might not be advisable. 
She has some bed workouts for different areas - arms, core, legs, etc - so if you have an injury in one area, you can always follow a workout for the others. 
But overall, excellent resource for bedbound folks. 
Yoga with Adrienne - Yoga/Stretching
youtube
Who hasn’t heard of Yoga with Adriene at this point? 
She’s a favorite for a reason. She really does have videos for every skill level. I really enjoyed what I was able to complete of her 30 days of Yoga series that she has. It’s a great spot to jump in to her channel and get a sampling of her different offerings. 
What I most like to use her videos for are for stress relief stretches. I can’t really get into yoga personally but her hip, back, and neck progressions have been wildly helpful. Her bedtime yoga videos are also a treat. 
Hope this helps someone out there or at least saves them a little time! I really felt like I was wondering around in the dark on this a few years ago so I really hope this spares someone that experience. 
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cosmonabo · 24 days
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𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫
Chapter four: Pride and Prejudice Description: [Name] ends up revealing her hidden intentions, but this helps her reach the next stage of the journalistic plan. Warnings: none.
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Pride and more Pride
I waited patiently for his answer, so much so that I could hear him take a deep breath before turning to face me. His change of mood didn't surprise me in the slightest, after all, even I couldn't imagine asking for something like that, although if I were him, I'm sure I wouldn't have been so apprehensive.
"Not at all. It could be dangerous," he denied without hesitation.
'Right, I saw that one coming.'
I snorted. I frowned in dissatisfaction, even though I knew that my antics wouldn't have much effect on Mitsuya, in fact, they might even convince him that was making the right decision. I looked at him with a scowl like a few friends, to which he just raised his eyebrows, as if to say "What now?".
"I'm not afraid," I insisted, moving dangerously closer, "I don't want to join a gang if you're wondering, I've got a lot more to do! I just want to do some field research. That's all I need."
"And I've already told you no," he retorted, with an abundance of patience. Mitsuya put his hands on my shoulders, looking at me seriously, as if he were lecturing a younger brother, his stern expression silencing me for a few minutes "[Name], you don't know how dangerous the world of delinquents is. Depending on who you get involved with, you can get into a lot of shit! I'm not so irresponsible as to take you in a crossfire."
"Okay, Mom."
"I'm serious."
"And me too! " I reinforced, now taking control of the situation. I did myself the favor of disentangling myself from his arms to continue speaking "I have a job to do, and now the president is counting on me. I need to study the delinquents or all our efforts will go down the drain, don't you understand this?!"
I shouted. I got carried away in the heat of the moment and ended up saying more than I should have, covering my mouth when I realized.
"What do you mean 'our'? What have you done now?" He asked in exasperation.
I must have surprised him with the revelation.
'Shit…'
"It's just… Nothing… Nothing" I waved my hands frantically in irritation "Just forget it, okay? Never mind, I'll sort it out myself."
I let out a nervous laugh. He obviously got suspicious right away, arching an eyebrow. I had no idea what that expression was hiding. Disappointment? Anger?
"[Name], what have you done?" Mitsuya touched my shoulder peacefully, perhaps just trying to prevent me from walking away as abruptly as I always did.
I bit my lower lip, staring at the ground in frustration, only to turn angrily in the opposite direction, setting off with heavy, angry strides, not before letting my harsh venom drip from my words.
"It doesn't matter, I don't need you to help me."
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"What's up?" The girl behind the counter stared at me, waiting for the rest of the story.
"Then I left him in the corridor, and walked away…" I swallowed, letting my thoughts weigh down the atmosphere as I scrubbed a table next to the store window. What an embarrassment.
"Man, you just fuck up in this life."
"You took the words right out of my mouth"
I let the core of my plans slip away, handed over my king's head on a platter; served in silver. I whimpered, trying to formulate a convincing lie as I rubbed the table hard, staring at how shiny it already was.
"But what about it? What are you going to tell him tomorrow?" Kyouka asked, leaning his head on the counter lazily.
"I'm still thinking about it" I say, without giving it much thought." Any ideas?
"Have you tried telling him the truth? Maybe he'll understand, you don't have to lie about everything, sometimes people understand that circumstances require certain attitudes."
"What? No! of course not." I shook my head in denial. "Don't be crazy, Kyouka, people aren't as understanding as they are in the movies."
"You're the only one who's crazy, you compulsive liar." Kyouka rolled her eyes, knowing that trying to convince me would be a significant waste of time "I just hope you don't keep lying to him, you know, that guy."
"Any particular reason?" I laughed humorlessly.
"He doesn't seem like a bad person," she mused, circling the counter with her index finger, "he's quite patient with you, if you ask me. "
I leaned my elbows on the counter, now looking at the glass door with the LED panel above it.
"I'm not that much of a liar," I said, and she mumbled an unconvincing "uh-huh" "I've pretty much told the whole truth, I've just hidden a tiny little piece like that."
I demonstrated with the tip of my index finger and thumb, putting the two together to show how small my little lie was.
"It doesn't matter how big it is, it's still a lie."
"Shut up," I grumbled, "I don't need you to tell me about the nature of my actions. "
"But you're the one who asked my opinion!"
"And you gave it because you wanted to."
"You're awful," she hissed.
"Don't feel special, you're not the first to say that to me," I retorted, just as bitterly.
We didn't speak for a few minutes until I heard footsteps coming from the back room.
"It's the manager…!" Kyouka murmured next to me.
I winced when I remembered the danger, and it wasn't much different with her. We exchanged astonished glances before acting.
"Pick up the bucket!" I lifted the yellow bucket over the counter, and she desperately grabbed it "I'll take out the garbage. Go hide it, quick! "
"All right! All right!"
I stumbled out the door like a hurricane about to destroy the convenience store. When I got to the back, I stopped to catch my breath, gasping.
I took out the garbage as fast as I could. However, the dumpster was on the other side of the sidewalk.
'Who was the idiot who put that there?' And then I remembered the health authorities, who had warned the manager about the risks of garbage accumulating near the establishment, so they had to move the bin away.
'Damn it…' I dragged the garbage bags to the other side of the sidewalk, letting my anger show on my face. It was then that I heard the rumble of an engine, very close by.
A thief? A kidnapper?
I quickly used my body strength to throw the garbage bag in the direction of the noise. Whether I hit it or not, it would buy me time.
"What the fuck is that now?"
Recognizing the bike, I made sure to check the face of the thug.
'Oh, no…'
"What is it now?" He asked. The plastic bag narrowly missed him.
"A... garbage bag?" I answered automatically, but I soon realized that he was asking me why I was "doing it" "I thought you were a thief."
"You didn't see me?"
"What? I had my back turned!"
"I thought you recognized the noise!"
"Do you think I have time to remember the noise of every motorcycle that passes me by?"
"It was a hunch." He shrugged.
"A pretty bad guess, if I may say so."
"Very inviting as always, Miss [Name]," he quipped, "what are you doing dragging those garbage bags around at this hour? Shouldn't you be at home?"
"I work here" I nodded to the convenience store just behind him "do you want me to do a little neighborhood fundraising 'to buy your Alzheimer's medicine?"
"Come here, are you always like this?" He asked indignantly.
I thought about it for a moment before shrugging.
"Sometimes. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing, I just wanted to know where all your 'charisma' came from, because it's not possible that your acting is that good."
Replace "charisma" with "foolishness".
"Natural talent."
"I can tell…" He laughed disgustedly, it seems he was still angry about what happened earlier, I can't say it's not a good reason to feel angry.
"Look, the talk is amazing and it was a real surprise to see you, but now I really have to go," I said with a smile, passing Mitsuya, who was following my every move, alertly, "at last, arrivederci, Mitsuya-san."
I waved, leaving without looking back.
"We need to talk."
That phrase keeps haunting me, I don't know why I'm still surprised.
"No, we don't."
"Yes, we do." He emphasized the "yes".
"You walked away stomping your feet without giving me any explanation, [Name], that was ridiculous" Mitsuya stretched out over the bike, only to approach my slightly lowered form, to which I just watched with narrowed eyes "I need explanations for the things that happened today, you can't lie forever."
"Was that a… challenge?" I arched an eyebrow.
"[Name]… " He narrowed his eyes.
We were too close, perhaps afraid to step back and break the eye contact that was only intensifying as the seconds passed, I was feeling heated, for no particular reason, but the feeling was killing me. 'I can't give in, I can't give in…'
"Right" I shrugged, taking two steps back, to which he just blinked his eyes in curiosity "I'm just finishing cleaning up the store" I warned, squinting, trying to notice any sign of "empathy" in his rigid eyes. Nothing in sight "so wait here."
"Here?"
"Yes."
"Here?"
I took a look at where we were. We were practically arguing in a garbage dump.
"I hate to admit it, but you're right," I clicked my tongue, "wait for me by the back door. I'll be right back. "
I stopped him before he dared to object. I walked back to the comfort of the counter and the coolness of the air conditioning.
As soon as I got near the door, I spotted Kyouka and the manager arguing inside the staff room, sitting at a table. The programming on the mini TV was made inaudible by the harsh sound of their voices.
"There she is. Satisfied?" He pointed in my direction, frowning.
"Where were you, girl?"
He glared at me. I just rolled my eyes under the brim of the cap I was wearing.
"I was taking out the garbage," I explained dismissively.
"And what took you so long?"
"We can start by saying that it wasn't a clever idea to put the garbage can on the other side of the street!" I exclaimed, completely flustered, "and I found a huge rat rummaging through our garbage! It was disgusting!" I lied.
"And what the hell did you do?"
"I threw the garbage bag at it but it ended up escaping alive, unfortunately."
"Um… I see… " He nodded, even though he was suspicious.
"What? You don't believe me? You can go and see!" I pointed outside "She even dropped a bag of garbage on the floor."
"And when did I say I didn't believe you?"
"Your face says it all."
"Is it over? Can we go now?" The brunette at the table tapped her fingers impatiently.
The older man just sighed, knowing that continuing the discussion wouldn't get us anywhere, especially when everything had already been finished inside the establishment.
"Of course," He agreed, exhausted, "let's just close up first."
It was strangely quick. Seeing Kyouka hurry to leave was bizarre, since she was usually the one who delayed everyone at the end of the working day. And when we left, she didn't even say goodbye.
"Wow… " I exclaimed, ironically.
Then I remembered. I had to go to the back.
"I didn't think I'd be waiting," I said.
I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets, trying to keep warm. I leaned against the wall, watching Mitsuya stare at me uneasily. He hadn't parked his bike. I deduced he wasn't about to prolong the conversation.
"What do you want to talk about?" I asked.
I'm well aware of what's coming next, but I'm going to risk the question anyway.
"Today, at school, you commented on something that could harm us. What was it?"
"It's a long story."
"We have time."
I looked away from the glare at disgustig i was about to direct at him.
"Right… " I replied dismissively. I walked to the edge of the sidewalk, finding a place to sit down. "To begin with, I don't care about gangs or delinquents, I'm just doing a job for the president. If I can't maintain the quality of the stories… Well, we're fucked."
"And where do I come into this?" He lowered his head to meet my eyes, perhaps because of the transparency of my words, he noticed that I was now telling the truth.
"I made a deal with President Yamazaki," I replied, but he continued to stare at me expectantly. Expectation, how disgusting. "He only restored your project because I made a promise to improve the quality of the newspaper, which had been declining for some time, and the delinquents were the best front to get his consent. Now, Yamazaki wants me as general "supervisor" of the delinquents. He won't get off my back in the meantime."
A shiver ran down my spine.
"Did he give you that title?"
"No. I just made it up."
I was describing my only shred of hope to the person I'd tried so hard to hide my plans from. Unbelievable.
"And what's going to happen if you don't get your subjects in order?" Mitsuya swallowed.
"What do you think? Your project will be shelved and I'll lose my job" I replied as if it were obvious "we're hanging on a thin line between unlikely success and guaranteed failure. Apart from that, i think we'll be fine."
I tilted my chin to offer Mitsuya a smile. He caught my sarcasm right away.
"This is the time when you ask me what we should do," I warned, waiting for the question.
"Right," he agreed, grimacing, "and what do you... Sorry, what do we intend to do then?"
"We have to form a 'middle alliance'" I replied immediately "or in a few weeks' time, you can kiss your project goodbye while I kiss my desk goodbye. "
I say dismissively.
"That doesn't seem to shake you up too much."
Did I pretend that badly?
"I'm not going to show you my insecurities. That would be a dose of instability, and I don't lose control. Ever." I say with conviction.
"I'm sorry if you're not 'sure of my loyalty'" He opened and closed quotation marks with his fingers.
"How outrageous… Understand that your loyalty is still uncertain. Friends can become future enemies and I don't like taking risks. And we're not even friends."
"I'm pretty sure our lives aren't a novel written by Jane Austen, [Name]."
"Thank heaven for that, I would never be your romantic partner."
"I'm not as unscrupulous as you think."
"I'll pretend I believe you." I shrugged.
"Maybe you're just reading too many English novels."
"I agree. But that's not the point."
"As you wish, Elizabeth Bennet," Mitsuya said humorously.
"I'm grateful, Mr. Darcy."
"How far do you want to extend that?"
"I have no idea. I just found the concept interesting."
He arched his eyebrow in puzzlement.
"Okay, but if possible, let's not continue with the metaphors, they're hard to follow," he asked.
"Okay."
"So, where do you want to start?" He stared at me.
I grabbed the strap of my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. A bit thoughtful.
"I want to start by introducing an article about a gang. It's a fair exchange, you give me a few pages and I'll make you some photos"
I smiled, this time genuinely confident.
"I feel like I won't be able to deny your request this time," he sighed, wiping his hand across his face before turning back to me.
"I'm afraid not." A smile bordering on innocence flashed across my face "But which gang are you in, anyway?"
I asked out of pure curiosity.
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I stared at him in surprise, I hadn't expected to meet him on the way home. He was wearing the supposed gang uniform, and I was surprised at the decency of his technical team for having so much discipline within a group of delinquents. I, on the other hand, was wearing social clothes such as a dress shirt, tie and skirt with a pair of loafers and tights, with the same sports jacket I usually wore, Mitsuya arched his eyebrow as he stared at me from head to toe.
"Were you in a meeting?" He asked, stopping his motocycle at the curb.
"Not exactly," I replied indifferently, unable to understand the reason for his surprise, "they're clothes I wear every day."
Mitsuya raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
"A bit eccentric."
"You think so? I consider it normal." I watched people giving us strange looks as we talked.
Our encounters are becoming successive and constant; when I'm distracted doing important things - like buying another prism lens, for example - and Mitsuya arrives on his motorcycle soon after, we start talking from the moment I try to hit him with something and he swerves at the right time.
"So you're really part of that 'Tokyo Manji'? That biker gang?"
"I didn't think you knew the names of the gangs."
"I've heard of it," I said, putting the bag back in my purse, "but it never even crossed my mind that you might be one of them. What a small world, huh?"
"I thought it would be easy to deduce, after all, I must have shown up with the some of them at school at some point" He commented "[Name], you said you needed to do some research, right?"
"That's right. But not yet the necessary material, nor test subjects."
I feel like I shouldn't have used the word "test subjects".
"Do you want to come with me? It might be useful."
I widened my eyes.
"Oh, and why all of a sudden?
"Have you forgotten about our middle alliance?" He laughed, "Would you like some Alzheimer's medication? I can give you some."
"Shut up," I snorted embarrassed, "all right, I'll take it."
I put on my best disinterested face.
"Hold on."
He threw me the helmet that had been around his neck until now, which landed in my hands.
"What's that for?"
"To avoid accidents, of course. I thought you had a faster mind, secretary." He scoffed.
"My mind is enviable, for your information"
"So you know what I mean, don't you?"
I soon understood what he was getting at.
"You don't want me to…"
"Come on, get on."
He pointed to the back of the motocycle.
"I refuse."
"Relax, the Impulse won't knock you over."
When I heard the bike's code name, my nervousness was instantly replaced by the urge to laugh.
"Wait, what is it?" I held back my laughter, "the name of the bike is Impulse?"
"It's actually Sweet Impulse."
"I see," involuntary laughter escaped, "well, I'm sorry to inform you, but I'll be politely declining to get on your lovely mount."
"Would you rather walk to the Musashi temple? I doubt you'll have a good time walking there." He commented with a smile, seeing my eyes drop in shock.
I stared at the bike for a few seconds. I couldn't help but be shocked, I'd never imagined it could be so far away.
"Give me a second," I informed him, before turning away and starting to make a phone call.
Mitsuya just stared at me talking into the phone with a serious expression. A few minutes later, I returned to the sidewalk.
"Right, we can go now," I said at last.
"Who was?"
"My father," I replied casually, as I climbed onto the back of the motorcycle with suspicion in my movements, holding the biker's shoulders tighter than I would have liked, "I always have to warn him beforehand."
"Do you warn your father every time you go off the beaten track? What a model girl" he laughed sarcastically, "and I recommend you hold on to my waist if you don't want to fall."
"You really push your luck," I snorted.
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Night came as soon as Mitsuya stopped the bike, and it took me more than three minutes to calm down, like a frightened cat. Feeling the wind hitting the sides of my body made me shiver in my bones, especially when a dozen other motorcycles started passing us at high speed on the highway, I felt like I was going to die at any moment, as if the chill felt in my ribs were the fingers of death flanking my waist.
"Next time I'll walk…" I said at last, climbing down.
"That wasn't so bad," he commented as he kindly removed my helmet when he saw that I was fighting a battle with him.
"Are you kidding? It was terrible!"
"Well, apart from the fact that you stuck to my back to muffle your scream, it was a good first time." Mitsuya pointed out gently, embarrassing me.
That sentence cleared my mind in an unwelcome way. I kept holding onto his jacket as if my life depended on it, and to be honest, I think it did.
"Bastard, I'll never do that again!"
"Feel free to come along for come walking next time" he said amused "I'll enjoy watching you try"
"That was the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life," I said, "don't ever invite me to these radical things again."
"You're very dramatic."
"I'm a realist," I corrected, "and a bit sensitive."
"If you're a sensitive human being, then I must be an angel myself."
"Good observation, Sir, but don't think I'm going to agree with you because you made a good point."
"Coming from you, a compliment becomes something invigorating whether it's on purpose or not."
"I know that."
"I figured as much."
We noticed some other motorcycles approaching from afar. The headlights had a brightness that could make anyone go blind.
"What's that?" I asked, disturbed by the brightness.
"That, Miss [Name]-san, is the Tokyo Manji."
"What luminous trash."
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pickleprickle · 11 months
Text
Good Mistakes
Summary: You're just minding your own business when Elia Kane appears and makes you horny. That's it.
Pairing: Elia Kane x f!reader
Rating E: minors DNI!
Word Count: 1K
Warnings: edging, fingering, semi-public sexual activity, Elia being a cocky little shit
A/N: I'm in love with her. Haven't decided if I'm going to make this a multi-part thing, yet. Leaning towards yes, but am still on the fence.
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"You've been watching me."
"No. I come every day when I’m on Coruscant," you explained without looking to see who’d stood by. "It's such a sad place."
It was true. You did come here every day and it was a sad place. The last natural bit of the planet that had become Coruscant. The peak of what had been the highest mountain that had ever existed here.
"Before this planet was this,” you gestured toward the towers and lights and criss-crossing multi-dimensions of traffic, “people probably trained to climb to this peak. Now it’s a tombstone that no one can touch. It's heartbreaking."
The woman turned fully toward you, hands clasped behind her back. It was hard to tell if her shoulders were that straight or if it was the military-esque jacket accentuating them. 
Stars. No. Rings. Her eyes shone as if reflecting the rings of a gas giant. Probably a trick of the ever searing lights of this horrid planet. Regardless, they were set in a fine, wide face with inscrutable expression below striking eyebrows and short, neatly cut black hair with a sharp side part. Everything about her projected order and discipline. There was little place in your life for such things, but she made them very alluring. 
"You like being sad." The words were an observation with no particular tone rather than a question. They simply existed, waiting for another sentient being to gather them up and construct a conversation. If none did, they would be carried away by the breeze and no one would care if they’d ever been spoken, including the woman who’d brought them to life. 
"No. I like being reminded that the things we do rarely matter in the long run,” you replied, flicking your eyes toward hers, “when there’s little to occupy my attention.” 
The woman’s mouth quirked and a twinkle sparked in her eyes; that was no trick of the constant lights of this planet. 
“I honestly haven’t seen you before tonight,” you continued. “Wish I had.”
She leaned forward; not close enough to ghost cheek to cheek but enough to feel her breath on your skin as her lips came near your ear. Close enough to fan the embers that had already begun to smolder in your chest and thighs and everywhere in between. 
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her whisper was hot and held a million ways of how she could fuck up someone’s life. 
*
You returned to the mountain monument the next day, but kept to the sidelines. It wasn’t about trying to avoid looking desperate or eager. It was the uniform and crisp manner that gave pause. There had been many uniform and insignia changes since the fall of the Empire and the struggling rise of this New Republic. Prudence required research and that research had yielded nothing reliable, leaving the dark-haired woman a mystery. 
Also, you wanted to see if she would show up and wait. 
Instead, you waited for hours. Fruitlessly. 
Irritated at the jilt and wasted time, you spun around in a huff . . . and nearly collided with her. Like the previous night, she stood rod straight with hands clasped behind her back and head tilted, containing suspicious yet curious eyes. 
“I wondered when you would give up,” she quipped.
“How long have you been watching me?” you demanded in a tone that was far from seductive. 
She subtly bit her lip as her eyes skated along you head to toe. A single eyebrow raised at the sight of your crop top and tight leather pants. 
“Long enough to bother you.” She flashed an impish grin while turning on her heel. 
The smart thing to do was let her sashay away out of everything and go about securing the next job. The walk though. When still, this woman stood like a stone monument of her own. In motion, her shoulders rolled a bit. Swagger. The kind that only comes when a person knows they can practically suck a woman’s soul out through her clit. 
mistake mistake mistake
You went ahead and made the mistake. 
*
The woman’s directness was admirable and extremely arousing.
After a short walk punctuated by a brief exchange of names, she took your hand and steered down an alley where she pushed you up against the wall, pinning your wrists over your head. Her lips forward, stopping just before their target and hovered less than half a whisper away. Your mouth fell open so she might take them, but she only smiled and dipped away before leaning forward again, keeping the barest distance from that delicate, sensitive skin. 
“Straightforward,” you mused. “I like that.”
“I have so many fun plans for us,” she replied, “and I don’t like wasting time.”
Elia arranged your wrists to hold them overhead with one hand then the other slowly glided down your arm and skated along your breast until settling at the waistband of your pants. With that free hand, she incrementally worked them down to settle midthigh. A single fingertip ghosted along your desperate bud and paired with her mouth tortuously close to yours, ignited a fire that burned through your core. Elia was infuriating, pulling away and pushing forward again to not quite capture your mouth.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” she murmured while continuing to torture your clit with the slightest of touches and feathered movement. 
“No,” you said through gritted teeth. The desire to grind down on her hand was overwhelming, but for some reason you wanted to show her that you were as disciplined as she was. 
“Liar.” 
One full stroke of her finger over your bundle of nerves elicited a wrecked whine that echoed along the alley. Chuckling, she snatched her hand away from your quivering clit and brought it to her mouth to taste the lust. 
As she’d done at the end of that first meeting, Elia leaned forward to bring her beautiful face near yours, near but not there, breaths exchanged. 
“I’ll kiss you tomorrow,” she whispered, lips brushing along your cheek and sending an electric wave through everything. 
@baba-fett @stardust-kenobi @galacticgraffiti @minderni @babypeachypeach
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italoniponic · 2 years
Note
Alright!!
How about idia with a reader who starts showing romantic interest in him after breaking up with Vil?
<33
𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭
| Notes: Hello again, darling!  About this ask… it really cracked me up when I first saw, for reasons lol
Sweet Jesus, I really like Idia and maybe this is part of the reason this story took so much time bc I put my soul into it. FR part of me wanted to sit down and transform this into a whole series of stories to fully develop Idia & Reader’s relationship, each of their feelings, other characters cameos, more drama, etc etc etc. But I don’t have the time unfortunately T_T We still have this monstrosity of a one-shot tho. I think I have never written something so long… and one of the main reasons it’s that there’s a lot of things here. Maybe it’s bc I like to complicate things more than it should be (as would say Michael Scott), some parts are so you can see Reader’s feelings slowly growing stronger about Idia and I hope the little time jumps are fluid enough too. 
None of this is a complaint or anything (its just my way of speaking lol) but wow, this was the story. Actually, the perfect way to finish Cherry’s Harvesting <3 In total, this story has 6,6k words but I split it into two parts so you all can read more calmly (and idk if tumblr will permit so much words, this site hates me sometimes…)
So, join me into my Charon gondola and let’s romance my favorite shut-in salty introvert greek-myth based otaku <3 |
Idia Shroud x gender neutral reader / scenario / part 1 (3050k words) - part 2 (here) / mentions of breakup with Vil Schoenheit / angst, hurt and comfort, fluff / seasons and greek mythology references / minor chapter 6 mentions and references / use of “you” pronouns
Cherry’s Harvesting 🍒 Masterlist
Winter Melts Into Spring
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{𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, “𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬”}
        His homeland has always been cold, especially in the subterranean headquarters where they did their research and guarded overblot’s phantoms. In this, Ignihyde made Idia feel at home — as if he had never left. 
          Life for Idia was like a long, arduous winter. Cold to the soul, able to make every single bone tremble. Pure white snow. Colorless, lifeless, monochrome. Like the systems that surround the Isle of Lamentation where he was born. Idia got used to living in a kind of underworld, away from mortals who could feel the Sun truly caress their skins and fill them with color and joy.
        The bedroom’s air conditioning made that icy feeling of loneliness linger. Idia never bothered to change that. Even if he wanted to change the temperature, it wasn't like he could. He wasn’t worthy of any of that. Idia knew that somehow the cold of winter would surround him again.
        He couldn’t escape. 
        But one day, Idia found a “daffodil” in the schoolyard. You were sitting on a bench, having lunch with Grim and your friends. Idia knew very little about you: as you arrived at the school suddenly, you ended up getting involved with some overblots and you were starting to adapt. He never worried about wanting to seek more.
        You seemed to be just another summer person, covered in the Sun and emanating a warmth that Idia couldn’t stand. That perception changed, however, when Idia saw Grim alone in the hallway and tried to pet him — in vain because the little monster ran out near you. When you faced Idia, he felt that he already knew what you were going to say.
        About how weird he was, that he must be the owner of that weird tablet that floats down the hallways instead of going out and going to class every day like everyone else. About how in the days when he was required to go in person, he had this uncomfortable gloomy aura around him.
        But you didn't say any of that. You seemed to understand that Idia wanted to caress Grim and with a smile, you tried to convince him to be kinder to that stranger with ghostly pale skin, jagged teeth and flaming hair. Your smile warmed Idia’s heart, just the right way.
        You were kind, genuine in your words. Like spring. 
        Even so, Idia ended up running away from there. Your kindness — however bearable as the blossoming of a flower field — was still too much for him to stand. The further he moved away, the more the feeling of regret ended up hammering into his mind. Was that it? One escape and you’d be out of reach forever. You would never dare speak to him again.
        Idia tortured himself thinking about it for days, lost in this blossoming of feelings that made no sense to him. All possibilities could be considered, but the worst-case scenarios were what he paid the most attention to. That is until you prove him wrong again and again.
        “Hi, Idia,” you greeted him every time they passed in the hall, either as a tablet or himself.
        Idia didn’t know how you found out his name — probably from Ortho or someone in the third grade you knew — but hearing your voice pronounce his name with such sympathy was energizing. 
        It wasn't even a matter of greeting him loudly for everyone to hear or so quietly that even he wouldn’t have noticed. You recognized his presence in that river of students and by the expression scanner Idia ran through your image on his tablet, your positive emotions were true. You'd be happy to meet him. Why? 
        “I just wanted to meet you,” you answered that question once.
        With a lot of perseverance, the two of you managed to start talking to each other. Little but enough at the beginning. You bumped into each other a lot when you went to the Mystery Shop and sometimes you were after the same snack to buy. Talking to Idia was difficult, no matter if you have a similar personality to him.
        But, as your interest spoke louder, you weren’t going to let yourself be defeated — you had so much courage that Idia even managed to visualize you as a shounen-type protagonist, those very persistent ones even though you were defeated by the final boss several times. Each defeat, you came back stronger.
        “There are so many interesting people here... I know it sounds kind of naive but, if I'm going to be here for long or forever, I want to know everything about this place,” you continued. “And you seem like a cool guy, Idia.”
        At that, you tipped your head a bit and smiled at him. Idia regretted not bringing his tablet for the occasion, otherwise he could better hide how your words shook him inside like a great boil. However, you seemed to notice someone coming in the direction where Idia was facing backwards and gave them a shy nod.
        When that person passed you by, Idia had a better grasp at what was your slight change in behavior. Vil Schoenheit answered your nod with a slight wave of his hand and a smile, his light blond hair flying with a breeze that came out of nowhere.
        Idia wondered where the red roses were, as it should bloom behind that heartthrob young man along with the crystal clear soap bubbles and the soft background music. Because if life were a shoujo anime, Vil would be the protagonist without any doubt. The most beautiful and popular guy in school, thousands of fans melting every time he passed by. 
        Seeing people like that in real life always made his stomach turn. It didn't help that you seemed strangely charmed by Vil, like many other people in and out of school. Idia wasn’t surprised by this.
        It wasn’t long before you were talking to him, but at the time, you were dealing with Pomefiore’s group and other students rehearsing in your dorm for the VDC. Perhaps it wasn’t all bad that Idia just needed to present a project to a room full of people who would judge him at the first stutter.
        If he weighed in the balance, dancing and singing seemed to be more of a horrible torture than speaking in public. In any case, this seemed to have brought you closer to the leader of Pomefiore and as time passed, your simple relationship became something more.
        The end of winter and the passage of the cultural festival turned the lives of all of you upside down during a brief but busy moment. Idia didn't have the details of anything but, on his part, a lot of intense things also happened. He became one more among the problem children of Night Raven College.
        Still, you approached him once more and showed him your gentle and caring eyes. You seemed to suffer with him somehow — it was the first thing Idia noticed when he felt more in control of his own consciousness. You saw the worst in him and yet you didn’t walk away.
        Some would even say that you saw hell and returned from there victorious. But the truth is that a lot has happened and Idia was too worried about Ortho to pay attention to your own special dose of concern for Vil. 
        Idia didn’t want to give a name to the feelings that burned in his heart and tried to make him hope. Even if the situation had been controlled in time, he was still sure about one thing: there was no hope. Only survival. Moving from this to another phase of life without looking back. Idia held his own shoulders and tried to convince himself that he could survive without you.
        He lived eighteen years without knowing that anyone other than Ortho could look at him sweetly. He could live the rest without your gaze — briger of spring. 
        That's what he needed to hold on to.
        It was an ordinary night when Idia was working on his computer, concentrating on developing some updates to his system’s layouts and solving some annoying bugs while listening to a playlist — “songs for when you're heartbroken but you won’t admit it” by Euterpe-ram, a profile on magify that Idia discovered the last few days.
        You two hadn’t spoken to each other in a while. But every time Idia’s tablet detected you in the hallway, he got the impression that there was something wrong with you. This theory was eventually confirmed when Idia received a message from you on his cellphone asking if he could allow you in his bedroom. 
        Suddenly, you were there in Ignihyde and there was a hint of autumn in your eyes.
        A crumbled spring. Yellowish, dry, its leaves flying in the wind. Ortho had brought you to cheer you up but Idia knew you just didn’t want to disappoint him and decline that merciful invitation. Everything in your posture betrayed the fact that you wanted to be alone. Or maybe Ignihyde was too cold for you.
        As Ortho arranged a space on Idia’s messy bed to accommodate you, the two of you fell into a mournful silence. At a certain point, however, you ended up looking at Idia’s computer screen.
        “This playlist…,” you muttered, the surprise in your eyes suspending your tiredness for a moment.
        “Yeah.. a-a-ah! But! B-before you ask...!,” he almost closed the page in utter despair and embarrassment but you interrupted him in time.
        “Did you like it?”
        Idia had missed your way of saying and doing things. He really did.
        You never asked unnecessary questions, you never dug deeper than you should. You accepted all the answers he had available, waiting for the right time for him to develop or close the subject. It was like finding a flower bud that was protected from the harshness of autumn.
        “It's good. Huh. Long. But it has some cool songs that I had never heard before. Do you want...?,” Idia pulled out a second pair of headphones.
        You stared at him for a moment, confused as to how two pairs of headphones could listen to the same thing without being connected by a wire to the device — but the technology of this world is as complicated as magic and, given the circumstances, you chose not to question it too much. 
        Idia’s set-up space was lonely but they managed to arrange a pouf for you to sit on. Ortho was by your side playing on his games and you had split your time between watching him, listening to the same songs with Idia and finally venting your feelings a little. Idia had paused the playlist almost immediately but he didn't knew much to say.
        Vil and you broke up. 
        This took Idia by surprise for a moment. It seems that paradise is difficult even for the gods of high Olympus like you two, people of unattainable brilliance. 
        However, he couldn’t bring himself to be any sort of happy about your news. Even if you explained that it was a mutual decision and dealt with maturely — you were also surprised to find out that Vil thought just the same as you — it was still a difficult time.
        And all Idia could do was listen in silence. For all the time you stood there, gracing the fortress of his solitude with your tiny, though faded, spring buds, telling your story, Ortho wringing faint little smiles from you, there was nothing else to focus on. Idia only had eyes for you.
        He accepted your lamentations with respect and care, a shroud with which you covered your aching heart. 
        You suddenly found out that the levels between you and him were too different. You couldn't keep up with each other no matter how supportive you were of Vil — and he appreciated that, he couldn’t deny it. But you weren't a match at the end of the day. 
        Maybe “match” wasn't the right word, Idia thought. You were like cards of considerable power but, together, you weren’t enough to defeat a boss or fully compatible to be worth a combo and a fixed position on the team.
        When you said goodbye, with lighter shoulders, and smiled at Idia as you left, he turned to his computer. Ortho had also gone to his new room, wishing his brother good dreams.
        Idia didn’t sleep much, actually. Or if he fell asleep, he was sitting in his chair while the playlist lulled him on a journey into the deep rivers of his own mind. Idia managed to make a few more layout updates but his thoughts kept coming back to you and what his role would be in that Greek tragedy. Honestly, what could he do?
        “Either you die as a villain, or you live long enough to become the protagonist’s secondary friend who is in love and will never be reciprocated,” he said after a sip of energy drink, which seemed to make him more depressed.
        Idia hated that kind of character. It was the most pathetic existence an author could bother to create. The Protagonist’s Friend is a role that always falls on zero or one thousand: they get the love they want somehow or they end up alone, apparently happy and resigned to their situation.
        Movies created this illusion that the Protagonist’s Friend could have their small and banal dreams come true, just being there as unconditional support. A being without their own will who lived only for their love, blind to the protagonist’s obnoxious defects, ready and well trimmed to be a good doormat every hour.
        But people like that never get what they want in real life. They are used and discarded like the aluminum containers that contained the energy drink Idia drank. People always look at this Friend up and down, despising them. 
        Idia didn't want to be like that, under any circumstances. He could be a quitter, a coward, but he had a shred of dignity that he held on to with all his might. 
        More than wanting to force himself on you and make you realize that “the love of your life was right there in front of you” — wearing a worn-out and a little sweaty coat, ready to make you the new deity who would reign in his underworld — Idia just wanted to see you happy.
        It was a strange feeling. No one but Ortho deserved this kind of wish from him. Perhaps Idia had little hope that you would ever truly love him. Maybe he was afraid to take a step, to do something concrete and then see it collapse in front of him.
        However, if you could smile with all your strength, with the brightness that wakes the world for spring, Idia could sleep well at night. He admired your beauty from afar, reinforcing the distance between you, six feet underground. Letting his heart dwell on the selfish desire to convince you to stay in that underworld was useless, he just knew. He should just let you go.
        “How do you get through this phase so fucking easily?! Is a hack? Codes? Tell me, you damn stove!,” you were amusingly aggressive when you played something together. Idia laughed at you.
        “Hacks? You dare insult my abilities, mortal? These dark circles in my eyes are the fruit of all my efforts,” Idia smiled. You got distracted for a moment by seeing how the light from the computer’s screen reflected off his teeth, in such a big, rare smile. Precious. “And... you lost again!”
        “Yep, it seems so,” you agreed.
        Idia was too busy giving the commands to repeat the game phase level — and letting out his small, cute chuckles — to see that you were smiling in his direction with unmatched tenderness. 
        Lately, you have been spending more time with Idia — which was nice, you always wanted to get to know him better. If only you could have approached each other more without being at the expense of a sad experience. 
        Breakups are always difficult. It’s like the arid autumn that heralds the coldest of winters. However, day after day, finding Vil in the hallway or bumping into a picture of him in a magazine didn’t ache your heart like before. The pain no longer trampled you like a dry leaf on the sidewalk. It was a slow but continuous process. 
        A change of scenery may have helped with that. Ramshackle’s dorm was slowly being fixed but many things brought back memories of your friends’ presence at the VDC’s preparation time. It made you think of simpler times, where everything was seemingly fine — although that wasn't exactly the case, for any of you.
        Ignihyde, on the other hand, carried a different feel. 
        You noticed this on your first visit, when Ortho took you to Idia’s bedroom and you let yourself vent about your sadness. But, every time you entered their mirror and climbed the black stairs to reach the lounge, you started to notice more things in that cold, silent and mysterious place.
        It was as if you had died — or for some reason, arrived in the World of the Dead — but, what was supposed to be lamentation turned out to be a comfortable feeling.
        Being there for a long time made you realize that there were things up there in the outside world that you missed and that longing made you realize that life could be much more than a broken heart. At the same time, there was beauty and tranquility in solitude. Would you feel that way when you die? 
        Funny enough, Idia always makes you feel more alive. That feeling has always been there, somehow. You didn’t know if Idia had any idea about that. Your desire to provoke his little smiles, to see his golden eyes sparkle like a living flame. 
        At first, you were afraid of what your heart was presenting. You didn’t want to make another mistake and make another person you liked suffer unnecessarily. A whisper from Tartarus tried to tell you that you were just pretending to fall in love with Idia to forget Vil, as if the altar of a new god was set up on top of the old one.
        But that wasn’t the truth of your feelings. 
        “...shi? Hey?,” Idia’s voice sounded in your ears, calling your name. 
[to be continued...]
| Special notes: The playlist that is mentioned is a irl playlist I actually made just for the sake of this fic, posted in my sideblog @myplaylists-angeli that has other twst playlists. The playlist itself doesn’t strictly mean that this is only Reader’s sadness but it can also be Vil’s. Or you just want a sad playlist about love, pls feel at home to listen to. It’s not finished, so if you want to suggest a song (there’s a post about it here), you can!
Until tomorrow, my dear. We’ll wrap up the last part of this request and maybe the day after, have this final post that will declare the end of this event. ‘Till there, have my sincere yet fast words of gratitude for enjoying my writing and supporting me all this way. You all are the best <3 |
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Instead of working on any of my drafts or wips or anything productive, I wrote a little snippet of Batgirl being isekaid into the BNHA universe.
“There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home…”
Barbara Gordon peeked open her eyes and looked up in the mirror. No change. She sighed.
Three hours after waking up in a different world, and she was no closer to figuring out how to get back home.
This strange… alternate dimension… that she was in was nothing like the streets of Gotham. For one, Gotham didn’t even exist in this universe! Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman? None of them existed. There were heroes in this universe that she had never heard of before, but were way less cool than Batman. (But to judge everything on a Batman-metric of coolness? Hardly anyone could compare).
And it was an alternate dimension, given that superpowers were the norm for 98% of the population. Which meant supervillains. If living in Gotham had taught her anything, it’s that if anyone were to get super strength, it’s going to be a criminal. And there were a lot of villains, if the number of heroes was anything to go by. Heroes were apparently a legal entity in this universe. Like, you could go to super hero schools and learn how to be a super hero. Cool.
On the other hand, vigilantism was frowned upon. Heroes were certified by the government. Barbara hadn’t been here long enough to decipher whether that was a good thing or not. Governments having super soldiers? Not always a good thing.
It was all fascinating, but Barbara just wanted to return home. Back to Gotham, listening to the lullaby of police sirens, the sweet smell of smog in the air, where shadows seem to lurk a little bit darker.
Plus, she had responsibilities as Batgirl that she had to keep up.
She ran her fingers through her now curly mess of green hair. If the universal-travel wasn’t enough, it had to be made worse by being in a different body too. Izuku Midoriya, just about to turn 14, and ‘quirkless’ based on his ID card.
Barbara crossed “There’s no place like home” off her list. She didn’t have any ruby slippers, but she had still hoped it would work. It was the last of the plans that didn’t require searching for specific people or magical items.
But Barbara could admit she was out of her depth. This couldn’t be a body swap- it was a whole other universe. She didn’t know how she had gotten here in the first place.
She’d need help to get back to Gotham.
She heard a knock at her door. “Izuku,” a feminine voice said, “are you alright?”
Barbara thought things through for a moment. She needed assistance. She likely wouldn’t be able to lie to someone who knew Izuku very well for long.
Barbara opened the door. “Actually, we need to talk.”
—————
How are you supposed to react when your son explains that they’re inhabiting someone else’s body and are actually a teenage girl from another universe?
Inko Midoriya wasn’t sure. But when she looked into those green eyes, she knew that Izuku (not Izuku) was being sincere.
This person certainly wasn’t Izuku. Izuku pulled at his hands, this person pulled at their hair. Izuku would talk animatedly about quirks, slowly drifting into muttered questions and theories. This person didn’t have the same understanding of quirks. Izuku would speak reverently about All Might. This person did not.
So Inko listened politely. Then she sat beside Not-Izuku, or Barbara as she called herself, as they researched examples of Body Switching, Consciousness Manipulation, or Memory Manipulation quirks that either of them could think of. Barbara adjusted Inko’s computer to hide her trace while researching online.
The situation didn’t quite match descriptions of quirk related incidents. Meaning it could have come from Barbara’s universe.
Barbara had created a list of possible solutions, based on prior situations that had body or universe swapping in them.
1. Make contact with Batgirl and unmask her.
2. Fly around the world at incredibly high speeds
3. Complete tasks related to good deeds or heroism.
4. Find the person/ item that caused this problem and use it to fix it.
5. Wait it out
Barbara explained all of the pros and cons to each solutions, outlining potential problems, and potential steps to complete each one.
Inko was distressed at the idea that her precious son was likely in another universe, and had swapped with Barbara Gordon. But there wasn’t much she could do about it.
So she helped Barbara plan, praying that Izuku would return to his original universe safe.
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starzie · 4 months
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I wish I could talk about my stories more, but I'm just too secretive.
Been thinking about it lately because I'm feeling inspired to work on them.
I have about six stories; The first five used to be one story, that I kept changing and reworking until it kept getting divided. Been working on that since I was 16. Had to come up with working titles for all of them, to keep my files sorted. Let's see:
Oni Story
Shadow in Red
Madness
Ivy Vines
? (this one is blank I don't remember why)
Rearrange each first letter, and you get MISO. Whenever I write scenes that are use more than one story/world, I call it the MISO AU I really need to write the actual stories....
The original story that each one stems from, took place in three different times: The Backstory; The Journey; And The Epilogue. The plot revolved around the "main character", (Avasa), going missing in a pocket dimension. The Backstory was about how she got there; The journey involved her various friends and loved ones trying to find her, and befriending each other in the process; The Epilogue, they did find her, and now she has to live in a changed world.
Back then I really didn't know how to write for it. The character sheets, writing, and actual comic were always three different things too.
So I kept simplifying it, changing things around, and going in different directions until I ended up with so many different stories.
Ivy Vines, although an anthology, would be the closest one to the original story; Only it's about following the main character into the pocket dimension.
But the protagonist from Madness, (Bayla), is the most similar to Avasa.
edit: I just started talking about my stories from here lol
Madness is a romance series, about a starseer, Bayla, often hired for divinations. Although she's a(n unofficial) matchmaker, any romance of her own is doomed to tragically fail. Usually from the same things.
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A little comic I made a while ago for fun ;p Small crossover, since Scarlett is there
Oni Story, is an adventure comic about two vagabond Oni, Joshua and Damien. Damien, the blue oni, suffering from amnesia, has forgotten his birthplace and family name. With the help of Joshua, the red oni, the two set out to find answers. (Haven't been working on this one lately, because it requires research on Japan-- Which I just haven't had time to do--)
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Drawing from 2016. I had these characters for a while
Shadow in Red follows our protagonist, Scarlett (Himura), as she navigates her various relationships, while being haunted by a cursed mask. A supernatural action series with heavy drama.
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I've been working on this series the most. The drawing on the pink paper, I did last week. Plus some concept art, for the mask villain. If you squint your eyes, the face changes. Scary
So that's all the stories that stemmed from the one I wrote when I was 16. None are finished, but I'm working on them. At a snail's pace 🐌
But! Aside from that, I'm also working on a new story, that has nothing to do with the other ones. Shoot. I've been working on it since the inital lockdowns. So about 3 years now.
My sixth story is called:
6. 3lone Prompt*: *Pronounced However
In 3lone Prompt, our protagonist is a clone of The Original Sorceress. Her body, made out of the remains of her body. She is, and is not The Original Sorceress. Our protagonist has no name of her own, but goes by [6], (Pronounce it however you want).
[6] encounters remnants of The Sorceress's past she must resolve; While unraveling the mystery that is The Original Sorceress's life story.
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Collected a few sketches/doodles of [6] and cleaned them up. She has an ocean theme.
Oof. Didn't think I'd take this long to make this post. Finally at the thing I wanna talk about
3lone Prompt was largely inspired by RPG video games, in a meta sense
What do you do when you finish the story? All the bosses are beaten, peace is brought to the land-- What if someone else opens your file to play it? This someone has never played the game before, doesn't get a lot of what is being referenced; But can sort of piece it together. What if it was you but you forgot everything
(Was thinking about this the other day.) Around 2007, I played Pokémon Pearl, and finished it. I loved the game a lot, so even when the story was over, I explored the areas again. And again. One thing that stood out was the villain's headquarters. It's in Veilstone City, and the grunts still curse your name whenever you show up. You can climb the floors, and use the teleporters, but you really have no business being there anymore.
There's something really quiet about that kind of setting. You have everything you need, to travel wherever you want to go, but nothing you must do. Almost like a forgotten world. The story's over but the music still plays
For 3lone Prompt, I tried to build on that thought. (But it's not literally a video game, just a high fantasy setting.) The story focuses on past lives, and what could have occurred during.
In this meta sense, [6] would have "spawned" near the end game, with all the items. Meaning she has all The Sorceress's abilities; but no idea how to use them. She doesn't even know what her main objective is.
Can she piece together the clues? Let us find out!
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philcoulsonismyhero · 2 years
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This probably isn’t particularly interesting to anyone but me, but I’m doing my crime drama comfort show thing at the moment and I went full Autism Brain over Silent Witness the other day and gathered a whole bunch of Data(TM) about a thing, and I figured I might as well share it.
So, Silent Witness did this thing for a full 7 seasons (9-15) where it swapped around the order of the lead actors’ names in the opening credits depending on... some sort of metric of who was most prominent in a given episode. I don’t know if it’s number of lines or screentime or something else entirely, I’d have to do much more exhaustive research than just skipping through the opening credits to determine that, but the important thing is that it’s A Thing They Did. And it was clearly a thing to indicate that all three main actors were on an even footing when it came to billing, none of them more The Main Character than the others, but I’ve been idly wondering for years whether the data actually supports them being equal. So I went through every opening sequence where they did that and took notes.
Here’s the actual data, using character names rather than actors because that’s what I’m actually interested in:
Across the 72 episodes that Harry, Leo and Nikki were all in, and where they did the credits swap thing, Harry was billed first 20 times, Leo 25 and Nikki 27. Which, frankly, is a discrepancy I’m a little miffed about because 90% of the time I’m there for Harry. 
Second billing is completely different: Harry was 2nd 31 times, Leo 20 and Nikki 21. Which is Much more of a difference in numbers, and really kind of fascinating. I don’t actually know how many times that 2nd slot represents playing supporting character to the focus character of the episode vs being the lead in the b-plot, that’s another one that would require more research, but it’s really interesting how Harry plays second fiddle so often. (It makes sense, though. As close as Nikki and Leo are, Harry’s closer to each of them than they are to each other.)
And then the third spot has a similar distribution to the first, with Harry at 20, Leo at 27 and Nikki at 24. Which, you might note, doesn’t add up to 72, thanks to a Rather Fucking Rude stunt that they pulled in Bloodlines pt2 in order to makes us think that they’d killed Harry off For Real, namely leaving Tom Ward’s name out of the opening sequence entirely. Cruel and unusual, frankly, but also a very clever way to preserve the tension, I have to give them that.
So, Nikki is 1st most often of the three of them, Harry is 2nd by far the most often, and Leo is 3rd most often. 
BUT, dear reader, because if you’ve bothered to read this far into my nonsense I do very much appreciate you, I didn’t stop there. Since every Silent Witness storyline is a two-parter, I wondered how often the credits order stayed the same from part one to part two, and in what ways people were swapped around when it didn’t. 
The answer is that, across 36 two-part storylines, 21 of them retained the same credits order from part 1 to part 2, and 10 of them maintained the same lead character but swapped the positions of the other two. When the lead character didn’t keep that spot in the second part, fascinatingly they were only ever moved to third place, never second, which happened the remaining 5 times. And within those five, the only change was 1 -> 3 twice, and the other three times everyone swapped position, shuffling one position to the left if you picture them on a number line. (So, 3->2, 2->1 and then 1 looping back to 3.) So, no one was ever demoted to second place, only ever promoted into it, if you want to think of it like that. It’s an interesting pattern.
And then, finally, I wanted to know which order of names was the most common. It goes like this:
Nikki-Harry-Leo: 19
Leo-Nikki-Harry: 13
Harry-Leo-Nikki: 12
Leo-Harry-Nikki: 12
Harry-Nikki-Leo: 8
Nikki-Leo-Harry: 8
Some of the interesting things to be gleaned from that: if Nikki is the lead character, it’s far and away Harry that’s in the second spot rather than Leo; it’s about even who plays second fiddle to Leo when he’s in the lead, which is interesting, and I’d be willing to bet that it’s more often that Nikki has her own plotline and Harry is in support of both of them; and when Harry is in the lead role it’s more often Leo who is second rather than Nikki. I really would have to go through each episode individually and pick out which are instances of a-plot/b-plot/support vs a-plot/support/b-plot vs everyone has their own case, etc. to be able to say much more about that, but there are definitely some interesting trends just from these numbers.
And there you have it! Stats on a crime drama from more than a decade ago that I care way too much about and frequently get Autism Brain over. Like I said, probably only interesting to me, but here they are anyway. Someone bonk me on the head with a cardboard tube or spray me with water or something every time I think ‘actually, it would be really interesting to know for sure what sort of plotline setup is more common within those credit orders...’ because if I start trying to figure that out I really will waste hours on it rather than doing anything productive.
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🌈 + PARKER
Thanks so much for this!!
WHAT THEY IDENTIFY AS:
Parker is non-binary (using they/them pronouns) and omnisexual. They’ve known this for quite some time, even before they had the proper words for it.
HOW THEY CAME OUT:
Parker first came out to their parents and younger brother when they were twelve years old, by simply announcing at the dinner table one night that they didn’t think they were a girl and didn’t want to be a boy either, and that, after doing some research, they’d realized that they wanted to go by different pronouns. Their younger brother required a little bit more explaining, being only seven at the time, but afterwards, Parker’s parents, being just as matter-of-fact as their child, were just like, “We don’t totally get it, but we love you always and we’ll try our best to get your new pronouns right.” And after the gender identity thing, Parker didn’t even really need to come out as omni; their parents already figured they weren’t straight.
Parker didn’t come out to anyone at school besides Artie on their own - shortly after they came out as non-binary, their parents contacted the school asking that Parker’s teachers be informed of the change in their pronouns and be told to do their best to respect it. It didn’t actually work, but the sentiment was there and it saved Parker the anxiety of having to do that themself.
HOW THEIR FRIENDS/FAMILY REACTED:
As I said, Parker’s parents and brother were really accepting - as long as they didn’t have sex underage and stayed out of serious trouble, their parents weren’t too fussy on what their kids did or how they identified. Their brother Steven had a bit more trouble with it at first, since he was only seven and hadn’t even known up until then that people could be anything besides a guy or a girl, but he always tried and these days he never messes up his sibling’s pronouns.
The reception at school was… less than accepting, to say the least. Aside from Artie, who will love Parker no matter how they identify, none of Parker’s peers or teachers really made an effort to understand their identity. Most of their teachers just straight up refused to call Parker by they/them pronouns, and Parker got bullied almost relentlessly for months because of their “made-up gender,” resulting in them getting suspended twice for fights they hadn’t even started. The bullying thankfully tapered off by the time they got to high school, where more of the teachers were willing to correctly identify Parker, but they still get snickers and rude comments every now and again.
IF THEY GO TO PRIDE AND WITH WHO:
Not right after they came out, but Parker definitely starts going to the Columbus Pride parades starting sophomore year, after joining the glee club band and gaining a little bit more confidence in themself than they had. After they actually start to make some friends in New Directions, Kurt and Blaine are more than happy to go with them (and Artie, of course, once he finally comes out as bi after graduation).
IF THEY SHOW THEIR COLORS:
Parker’s not really one to wear pins or have a flag in their room or anything, but a day or two during Pride month, you can usually catch them wearing rainbow socks or with their nails painted the colors of one of their flags (and of course they do their makeup in the enby flag colors when going to Pride parades).
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holly-fixation · 2 years
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Damaged Doll: Chapter 2
Summary: Angeal and Zack discover a man in all black trapped under boulders in the mountains near Icicle Village. They notice things are extremely wrong about this man, but one thing demands their attention: mako blue eyes with slit pupils. Sephiroth will want to see this. And meeting him only raises more questions than answers.
Based on this prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien
Please Enjoy!
Chapter 2: Learning
With their conversation cut short by the greasy scientist and a meeting requiring all of the SOLDIERs forcing them away, the new patient was left on his own in the now tainted laboratory for recovery, still sitting up on the lone hospital bed. Now awake and alone, he scanned each object in the vicinity, trying to understand the new technology. Then, as his eyes fell on the mirror again, and a compulsive rage warmed in his chest.
Cloud had a new target, something he has not felt in a very long time.
But he had to play his cards carefully. As far as he can tell, they think he’s one of them. He must use that to his advantage. His broken leg and damaged ribs will work against him but he must pull through. 
The sound of the door sliding open dragged him from his thoughts, his eyes sharp as a predator’s as he tracked the man who entered. The scientist again. At very least, now he can discern the origin of his prince’s hatred for this man, besides the blatant lack of respect. 
“Now then…” The intrigued glint in the eyes behind the black glasses and the small curl of his disgusting smirk did not go unnoticed. He flipped through papers attached to a board and glanced at the patient, gaining the attention he needed to continue. “You were found under boulders near Icicle Village,” He listed as he scanned. “You were flown into Midgar with ‘abnormal wounds’, and sent to my laboratory to take care of them. Your six broken ribs were treated normally, but your shattered calf was placed in a cast full of epoxy due to the brittle and ceramic-like nature. Other doctors noted a lack of structure inside the crack.” 
No. This is bad. He kept his expression still as stone as his mind began to race. He needed to blend in with them, but this broken leg may be the end of him. How long was he out? If he played this game defectively, he would be back under the boulders with no way to aid his queen or his prince. He can fight, but he doesn’t know what he’s up against. That uncertainty paired with his injuries could easily lead to his defeat. His body was still exhausted, and he was lucky he could function at all. 
“To confirm this, you were sent for an X-ray and MRI scan, which I oversaw personally,” He continued casually. “You can imagine my surprise when each scan started, and showed your body. Boneless.”
Hollow. It was less steps for his creation. He welcomed it then, and now it will lead him back to endless death. Away from his queen. Away from his prince.
“Your ‘broken ribs’ are merely the shape of your skin on the verge of external cracking, with internal cracks of varying intensities,” He tapped the board and rocked his head to accentuate his thought, “most likely from the prolonged pressure.” He did not make eye contact as he continued, his eyes glued to the words of the pages. “Now, it took some convincing for the other doctors to keep these results quiet.” 
Oh? He wants to be on my good side? Why else would he waste time on changing the truth?
“They currently believe you were a failed experiment, thrown in a cave and buried to prevent escape over twenty years ago.” He had to keep the story believable afterall, but only the doctor knew why any research was conducted so far north at the time. “Since no identification was found and no one claimed you, my tale sufficed.”  He returned the parchment to its resting state and clicked what could only be a writing utensil in his hand. Then he returned his gaze fully to the patient with one brow raised, a challenge radiating through the room. “I take it none of your results surprise you?”
A slow nod was the only response he was given.
“Excellent,” the single word slithered off his tongue before he straightened his posture. “I believe we got off on the wrong foot. Welcome to my laboratory. I am Professor Hojo.”
He narrowed his snake-like eyes. Now he has a name for his target. Then there was a pause as he scanned his new enemy.
“And according to your conversation with The Firsts,” Hojo continued after enough time had passed, “Your name is ‘Cloud’.”
He nodded curtly. 
“Then,” an annoyed formality dripped from his voice. “Let’s start with the basics. After that, we can get to the interesting analysis.”
Cloud watched every detail of the slimy scientist, who began pacing slowly.
“How are you feeling?” He began his routine checklist. 
The blonde adjusted his position on the bed and winced softly. “...Achy…” He answered, his voice still raspy and rough against his throat.
He seemed to accept that, nodding and writing something on the board. “Understandable, considering the state you were found in.”
He did not respond, his eyes cold and calculated. 
“How’s your leg?” The professor spoke with a gesture of the instrument. 
His body tensed as he looked at the wrapping that protected the broken skin of his calf, flexing his right foot mindfully. “...Solid.”
“How well can you use it?” 
He thought for a moment before shrugging. 
Hojo nodded and mumbled something as he added more notes to the board. “Yet you launched to Sephiroth in one jump.”
“I would do anything for my prince.” He answered without hesitation. 
The scientist instantly grinned at the fire finally appearing in the blonde. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
You will be in the ground. 
“Did it hurt?”
“...immensely...” Not an entirely true statement, but the weaker this doctor believed him to be, the greater advantage in his pocket.
“Hm.” After writing once more, he flipped to the next page, then looked directly into Cloud’s inhuman eyes. “Now for the fun questions.” He grinned. “I am the only one who knows you’re not human, and I can keep it that way if you cooperate.” 
Cloud cursed himself before nodding. “...I will...”
“Good. Please do your best to answer them. I understand your overused voice limits details for now.”
Cloud’s eyes almost gave away what he was thinking. You don’t seem like the type to care about another’s pain when you want something.
“Is Sephiroth truly your prince?” The annoyance in his voice vanished, replaced with logical analysis and revolting joy.
He nodded mechanically.
“How would you know that?”
“We have the same eyes… And his hair...” He stated, but the pain of his throat and the lack of requirement to push through bled in his words slowly, his sentence fading as a decrescendo.
Another note on the board. “The same as your queen, correct?”
Another nod.
“And her name?”
“Jenova. Here...”
Hojo’s being practically glowed, his grin shining like a beacon. He knows something, though he did not speak of it. “How do you know that name?”
“It’s the name my prince knows…” He explained, then sighed. “Her true name no longer matters…”
He raised a brow. “What does that mean?”
Cloud shook his head and did not answer. 
After a pause, Hojo scribbled something out on the board. “Very well. We’ll come back to that later.” Right now, he needed to check if this creature truly knew the being he based his life’s work around. “How old are you?”
He tilted his head, then shrugged.
Hojo’s eyes narrowed. “Come now, you must have some idea. It’s the year 2002.”
“When did you start counting…?”
What an interesting question. The frustration was immediately forgotten with another intrigued grin. “After the fallout of the meteor was dealt with.”
“Then I am more than that...”
Oh now he was streaming with curiosity and knowledge, but for once did not get the chance to voice his question. 
To lower suspicion and increase his self preservation for now, Cloud pushed through his nearly broken voice, speaking in a tone closer to the powerful one he gave his prince, to add the only detail he could. “My queen created me.”
Hojo’s cheeks started to burn from his ever growing grins, concealing an ecstatic laugh. 
“If I may...” Cloud began, and he winced at the overexertion of his voice before finishing. “What is your connection to my queen?”
“Ha.” The scientist waved him off. “What makes you think there’s a connection?”
He whispered slowly, “Your interest…”
“I am simply a curious man.”
Liar. He didn’t have the strength to call this man out for his faux motivation, so he only sat in silence. They both knew his answer was untrue.
“Now,” Hojo continued casually, “you’re supposed to look human, correct?” He glanced up to see the reluctant nod. “Then why are your eyes inhuman?”
Cloud glanced down at his hands in thought, gripping and releasing them slowly. “...your curiosity…”
“Did it work?”
No response. 
“How did you end up in that cave?”
“I failed…” he answered before he could stop himself, his voice cracking and his hand lifting to his throat.
“Hm.” The scientist adjusted his glasses. “We’ll return to that later as well.” He circled something on the board. “One of the Firsts stated that healing materia doesn’t work on you in his report,” His glasses reflected the light of the room, blocking his eyes from the blonde. “Is that true?”
Cloud nodded slowly.
“Does any materia work on you?”
He curled his lip in disdain, showing a full second of his true emotion before he returned neutral, and did not answer.
“Very well.” Hojo moved on, much to the blonde’s surprise. “Last one for now.” He saw the grateful expression flash across Cloud’s face before disappearing. “Your body is hollow, yet we can monitor your heart rate, breathing, and inject IVs normally. How?”
He gave his answer with finality in his voice and his predatory eyes. “A very good design…” 
The light blocking the black glasses finally moved away from Cloud as one final note was added to the page. “I have to agree.” He clipped the utensil to the board before he changed the topic. “Now, your leg needs time to heal, but physical therapy for your ribs must begin as soon as possible.” 
Cloud raised a yellow brow but said nothing. 
“We’re not sure how or if you will heal, so this will have to be done for now. Be ready in an hour. I suggest using this time to rest.” And then he was gone, out the sliding door he came through. 
Oh the thoughts and judgements and curses Cloud had for this greasy scientist. Once he healed- No. Once he had enough control, he would carry out his mission. Until then, he laid back against the pillows, seizing his first conscious rest in over two millennia. 
* * *
This sucks. Why is this necessary? He was finally freed from the weight of the boulders, and now the feeling of his own breathing is a new agony? It was less, of course, but it felt like shards of glass were tearing at his body from the inside. …that may be more accurate than it should be. 
And he had not even begun training his truly broken limb.
He needed pain. Even during his creation, he understood that. Pain was defense. A way of acting like them. A way to prevent their discovery of what he truly was. He would not be caught for a hand in a fire, unwilling to react because he felt no burn. All injuries impacted him, especially this godforsaken ‘physical therapy’. How would this work for his leg? Would the break increase? Could he heal from such a large injury at all? He didn’t know. 
He stared at the clock nearly every second of this session. Thirty minutes. Only thirty minutes and he was thinking like this. For his prince, he needed to get it together. This pain is temporary. This was more than a blessing after what he endured. 
What his queen is still enduring.
He had to find her, he had to, but he needed the strength to do so. This small world had changed immensely during the time of his sentence. The sentence to protect this worthless planet from the glory of his queen. If he found a single Cetra, he would kill them where they stood. Perhaps his only hesitation would be questioning the location of his queen. That was the only purpose those worthless communicators served.
But right now, that did not matter. He needed his strength replenished. He needed to focus. Why in all the stars is he so distracted? He needed rest. Once his body healed, it would no longer be necessary. Sleep was not an advantage, but it was required for attempts at healing his wounds. It only took mere moments after the therapy nurse left for him to fall into a dreamless sleep, welcoming the quiet darkness when he could see the light whenever he pleased.
Trapped under boulder upon boulder upon boulders. Keeping him crushed in eternal darkness. Clawing at the stone. Yelling for no one. There is no escape from threatening our planet. Your punishment is forever. 
He gasped awake, wincing against the bright lights in panic. Lights. He was out. He was out. How long was he asleep? He held his arms carefully, his breathing painful from the rapid reaction as he looked up to the clock on the wall. 11PM. Seven hours since his last rise. It was the first time he awoke alone here. This would become normal, he needed to remember that. He was out of the cave. He rubbed his eyes to rid them of the fog from his dream. Perhaps it was infantile to assume his mind was not as affected as his body. But he’s alone again, so he continued to scan the room to distract from the haunting memories. Where did the vent lead? Could he disconnect these machines? Could he kill with these instruments, or should he use his bare hands? 
Suddenly the door opened and pulled the blonde to his thoughts. The black haired boy who saved him gave him a small wave before entering. He waved back. 
“Hey, Cloud,” the young boy greeted softly, taking the only open seat in the room. “How’s your voice?”
“I-” it cracked. He swallowed before attempting to speak again, “It’s better, I think...”
“Good. Good…” He responded. He seemed…off. Like he was hiding his true intentions as he fidgeted awkwardly. “Are you feeling better?”
Cloud nodded softly.
“Good,” He repeated before taking a breath, hesitation leaking from his being. “Can I ask you some questions, Cloud?”
He froze for a moment before asking. “What is your name…?”
His mako-blue eyes widened in disbelief and realization. “Oh Gods, I never told you?” He stood from the chair and reached a hand out to the blonde. “I’m Zack Fair, SOLDIER Second Class. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. A lot going on, you know?”
He looked curiously to the hand before grabbing it with his own and nodding in agreement. “I’m Cloud. No title…” Now he looked back to the eyes. “Nice to meet you properly…”
“No last name?”
He shook his head. “Never had one… I hope that’s not a problem…?” 
Zack finally released his hand to shake them both in defense. “None at all. Just… not many people can say they have no last name.”
“Who can…?” He asked out of both curiosity and desire for useful information. It was a new world, and this child may be his key to understanding it.
“Well,” He paused for a moment in thought, bringing his hand to his chin. “The only one I can name off the top of my head, is Sephiroth.”
Cloud’s eyes widened but he quickly regained control.
“Speaking of Sephiroth…” 
So these were the questions he wanted to ask.
“...Is your leg okay from that jump?”
His inhuman eyes narrowed. Zack wasn’t asking his questions, he was avoiding them. He blinked a few times and nodded, before lifting his head a little higher. “What do you truly want to ask me…?”
The soldier chuckled and sat back down, avoiding all eye contact. “Saw right through me, didn’t you?”
He only tilted his head. Then he felt it. A vague sense of familiarity. He’s connected to her. Very faintly but he is connected. Perhaps his questions could be partially answered, but fully would risk too much.
“Look,” He sighed. “I have a lot of questions, but you’ve clearly been through a lot, so I’m cutting you a break. I just…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck before continuing. “I need to know. How did you end up in that cave?”
Cloud stared at him with eyes wide, his pupils expanding and contracting rapidly. He couldn’t answer. He knew every detail, but it was too soon to answer. Can he spin the truth? He doesn’t know enough about this world yet. Maybe he doesn’t need to…if he doesn't answer? Maybe he can use this new weakness to his advantage. Failure. Ambush. Agony. Murder. Panic. Dragged. Dropped. Crushed. Again. And Again. And Again. His body started shaking instinctually as panic and horror infected each shred of his being. “I-” He stuttered, unable to see the worried expression flood Zack’s features as his sight blurred. “I-I…”
“You don’t have to answer!” The black haired boy blurted before quickly grabbing the blonde’s shoulders to focus him. “Just look at me.”
His eyes shifted rapidly to each light in the room. There’s light here. It’s over. It’s over.
“Look at my eyes.”
He squinted as he scanned the boy’s body.
“Look at my eyes,” He repeated sternly, and this time the blonde’s inhuman gaze met his own. 
Now he willed his gaze to match the Soldier’s, only then realizing his overexertion of breathing, too fast and too intense, wincing at the pain. 
“Is it your ribs?” He questioned before commanding, “Lay down, I’ll get you a new ice pack.”
“Please don’t go...” Cloud felt himself beg before he could stop the words from leaving his throat. This is working too well. A faint thought in the back of his mind reminded him. He had to learn how to control this weakness, because he currently felt this planned show of emotion take over. 
“Hey, it’s okay…” Zack placed his hand on top of the patient’s and slowly released himself from the grip. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.” He flicked his head to the clock. “Time me. I’ll be less than a minute.”
Cloud hesitantly relaxed the rest of his grip, and the black haired boy left the room quickly. He immediately tried to gain control of his breathing, crossing and holding his arms as he did. This is affecting him more than it should. This was planned. This was planned. Is this another defense? Another weakness given to him at his creation to hide among this planet’s inhabitants? He grunted softly at the pain of his body, finally regulating his control.
True to his promise, Zack returned with a white bag with black text. Without asking, he immediately held it to the patient’s deepest injury by pushing past his arms, the same spot he found on the helicopter.
The blonde’s reaction was instant. He sighed in relief and held the pack against himself.
“Better?” Zack asked quickly.
Cloud nodded. “Thank you…” Then he remembered the question that forced him to trigger this. “I apologize… I cannot answer your question yet…”
Zack shook his hands in front of his body. “No. Don’t apologize. This is a lot to process, and I got too curious.” He sighed slightly. “I do that too often.”
“Curiosity is a gift…” And the reason my eyes are slitted. He did not voice the remainder of that sentence. “It must help on your missions…?”
He laughed, “Ha! More like gets me into more trouble than I can count! Nearly gave Angeal a heart attack a few missions ago.”
Cloud’s head tilted again. “...Angeal is the other soldier who saved me, correct…?”
“Yes!” Zack shouted with excitement before containing himself. “Angeal Hewley. SOLDIER: First Class.”
“The highest rank…?” Cloud assumed.
“Yup. Just like Sephiroth.” Zack noticed the attention that name brought again and elaborated slightly. “But he is stronger than Angeal by far.”
As expected. He nodded. Perhaps this boy is comfortable revealing information without prompting.
“Speaking of which…” Zack met the patient’s eyes, gaining no hint of concern so he decided to continue. “The questions I wanted to ask…” He trailed off.
“You may try again…” Cloud spoke softly before making himself yawn. “But I cannot promise an answer yet…”
Zack shook his head. “Absolutely not when you sound like that.” 
It worked.
“No more until you get enough rest.” His mako-blue eyes met the other’s in curiosity. “Have you eaten yet?”
Shoot. Food. He completely forgot about food. 
“That’s a no.” He gestured to the blonde’s face. “I’ll get you something that’s not an IV and stay until you eat it.”
“That’s not necessary…” Cloud tried to explain faintly, hoping the custom of ignoring statements like that continued. 
“Nope.” Success. “I’ll bother some of the doctors and see if I can get you a real meal.”
He smiled softly. “Thank you…”
* * * 
This was a bad idea. He knew it. There was still time to retreat.
It was very, very late. He was stuck in his office reading reports and suffering through paperwork after the meeting concluded. Nothing new besides a few missions that required a couple of days before roll out. He was better than this. He knew he was better than this. Finishing paperwork was frustrating, always, yet not this time consuming since he ended the Wutai War. No one needed to burn the midnight oil anymore.
But he can’t think, because he can’t stop hearing her name.
Too many questions, too many theories ricocheted in his mind. Every word spoken echoed inside. From the basic hows and whys to threads and complexities he needed flow charts and colors and, gods forbid, spreadsheets to organize. Overwhelming curiosity drenched all functioning thoughts. …Did he eat dinner? Did it matter? He quickly shook his head to rid himself of that train of thought. He should eat when he gets back to his apartment. However, he was currently headed to a different target. 
Gods he hated this place. Every metal machine, every sterilized wall, every observation window, lab coat, mako tank, clipboard, needle, experiment. Every second in this lab clawed at his control and emotions, struggling to force his memories back into the bottle he never opened. This place made that bottle leak and shattered every wall of his defenses. Only here did he feel like glass: clear and fragil, every thought on display and every anxiety decorating his uniform. It was this room, right? Finally he was ripped off of memory lane as he stood before the closed door. His eyes landed the clock outside his destination: 2:14. Then he should be quick.
Collect your thoughts. Ask your questions. Leave.
Three steps. That was all he needed to do. With one breath, he called upon his remaining self control and opened the door. 
The sliding noise immediately roused the blonde, who gasped and jerked up in response. His slit eyes were still blurry from sleep when the man in the doorway spoke.
“Stay in the bed,” He ordered quickly before stepping into the room. The door closed automatically behind him. 
The blonde instantly sat up and nodded, the fog gone from his eyes as he welcomed his guest. “What do you need of me, My prince?”
.
.
.
.
Thanks for reading!
Author's note: I have no self control, so probably continued. (check tags for more notes)
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dirty-bosmer · 2 years
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I’m prodding you with a huge stick! :D
1. do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?
7. tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote
9. in an ideal world where you’re already super successful and published, would you want to see a tv or movie adaptation of your work? why or why not?
11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?
22. describe your writing process from scratch to finish.
40. best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.
44. any writing advice you want to share?
56. five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?
70. are you very critical of your own writing? how much do you find yourself editing (either during the writing or after the fact)?
99. was being a writer a dream of yours when you were little? or did it spring up when your older? or is it just a hobby? 
I might’ve gotten carried away, whoops^^
Okay, I’m gonna jump around and go out of order cause I’m writing this in between morning errands and throughout a few days when I get chance to sit and breathe :D
99. was being a writer a dream of yours when you were little? or did it spring up when your older? or is it just a hobby? It never was a dream actually! I had no interest in writing for the vast majority of my school years too. It wasn’t until I was ~16 or so and started working on a fanfic, that I realized “ah, this can actually be fun.” Something just kind of clicked for me after that. I started paying more attention to good writing, reading more,  thinking about what made certain stories compelling. I started trying a lot harder in my schoolwork too, and ever since then I’ve done pretty well in classes that required lots of essay writing. 
But even then, and even after I started writing The Illusionist, I didn’t really have a passion for it. It was just something I did to wind down. What changed it for me was reading the King Killer Chronicles and The Stormlight Archive. After those books, I found a new wave of inspiration and remember thinking, “I want my writing to be like this,” and ever since then I’ve had a much deeper appreciation for the craft.
70. are you very critical of your own writing? how much do you find yourself editing (either during the writing or after the fact)? Ugh, yeah, I am 😔  Not so much while I’m writing, but immediately after I publish a chapter, I pretty much can’t stand it lol. I consume a lot of really great writing, and all of my friends are highly skilled so my calibration for “Good Writing” is always shifting, and after I finish a new book or fic, the bar always seems to be raised. And that is a great thing! I can always be better. I can always learn something new, but by nature of who I am, I guess, I am hyper aware of my weaknesses. 
22. describe your writing process from scratch to finish. Talk to myself about my fic. Write down only half the ideas I brought up but  immediately forget half of those anyway. Sit down with the word processor. Write a few sentences. Agonize over those few sentences. Write a few more. Write a paragraph. Go back to the first few sentences and change the syntax, then change it back to the way it was before. Write a few more paragraphs, maybe a page. Go back to the first paragraph and edit if 5 more times. Step away. Come back at 11:00 PM on a Tuesday and write until 2:00 AM. Laugh maniacally cause none of what I’ve written was in my original notes. Read it once. Publish the chapter. Make enough edits once it’s already posted that it’s borderline a different chapter when the next person comes to read it. Success :D
1. do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?Omg, I'm really trying to take a more planned approach with Syl's story, but with the Illusionist, absolutely not. I mean... that story is nearing 600k words. I very clearly had no idea what I was doing. I find it along the way but there is a lot of meandering :p
7. tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote It was a modern girl in Skyrim fic actually and I wrote it maybe ten years ago?? Omg throwback. IIRC, the reason why she was brought to Nirn was some big joke by the daedra. She and the Dragonborn were the champions of Sheogorath and Sanguine respectively, but I don't really remember much about the protagonist beside her being absolutely useless 😭 The DB on the other hand was a hedonistic asshole who did whatever he wanted (assassin, thief, womanizer etc.) and had no desire to save Skyrim. Oh and at some point he became a vampire? And Meeko was there too... The main story revolved around her doing various quests to learn the necessary skills to survive in Skyrim on her own. She was also trying to convince the DB to save the world while slowly losing her mind to Sheogorath's madness. It was quite fun. Not very well-written, but very fun. 9. in an ideal world where you’re already super successful and published, would you want to see a tv or movie adaptation of your work? why or why not? For my fanfics??? I don't think the world needs to see those XD If I ever follow through with my original story ideas, however, then yeah. That would be great, but mostly for the shmoney and the freedom shmoney would grant me.
11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general? I do a fair bit a research. If I find myself questioning the veracity of what I’ve written, I’ll look it up to confirm or spend a an hour or so reading how to make it more accurate. Mostly for combat stuff and TES lore surrounding the Daedra and magic. Anytime I make someone an “expert” in a field, like Lucien with his lyre or Raminus and his rocks, I do extra research cause on the off chance a musician or a geologist stop by, I don’t want to sound like a goober speaking out my rump. 
40. best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten. Oooh, this is tough, but something along the lines of “write less, not more.” It’s super pertinent to me at the moment while I edit old chapters. Also a writing friend of mine has mentioned that in one of Brandon Sanderson’s lectures on storytelling, he says our instincts will usually tell us to write far more navel gazing than necessary. I’m trimming out a lot of extraneous material and the chapters are feeling a lot smoother.
44. any writing advice you want to share? This might be controversial, but I honestly think it’s fine to compare your writing to others as long as you approach it with a critical eye. How else are you going to get better unless you read examples of writing that you think are better and also examples that you think are worse? What works in their writing? What doesn’t? What’s moving? What’s distracting? I know there is that saying “Comparison Is the Thief of Joy” and yeah, sometimes it will cause grief but there will always be people in the world who are smarter, more skilled, more successful than you currently are, and if you can’t take inspiration from them instead of being envious, you’re doing yourself a disservice. Hot takes.
56. five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer? Oh lort. Well, hopefully I’ll have published all the manuscripts from my dissertation and I won’t still be working on The Illusionist 😂 I’d really like to be at least wrist deep in an original novel too (which I still have not started writing beyond outlines). I think that would be a lot of fun, but I also am super fond of the community I’ve found for fanfic. Maybe TES VI will be out, or I’ll have found a new fandom to write fanfic for. Maybe I’ll branch out in my genres, write some crime thriller or something :D
Thank you for the prodding. Sorry I take so long. Not been on the tumbly too often as of late <3
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dollsonmain · 2 years
Text
Blather One:  Contractor Man
So, this guy’s done work for us before but it’s been a few years.
He’s very confident, but that doesn’t mean he’s right. That Guy probably would explode if I said that out loud (he just stopped moving for a while when I told him that both sides in an argument have just as much reason to lie so he shouldn’t believe the WMAL folks were telling the truth just because they said they were), though, so I’m stuck doing my own research and watching the contractors like usual.
However, when they did the siding, they did it right, very well, and willingly answered any questions I came up with.
Anyway, he basically told us do not renovate anything that doesn’t need it for safety reasons right now because the price of materials is disastrously inflated at the moment. Wait until winter when contractors are bored for lack of summer projects and prices come down on materials.
He said the floor felt alright under his heavy feet and that as long as I keep it caulked up tight it’ll stay that way because I made a point of drying it out very well before sealing it up. He also suggested installing a strip of quarter round to cover the edge of the sheet vinyl but I have no idea what it would be nailed into since there’s a large gap between the subfloor and the shower pan. Maybe glue it on?
-
So That Guy, ever the opportunist, suggests we look around for other things that need fixed.
-
The wall that squeals and groans in the wind? Drive some screws in tightly, pull the drywall back against the studs, and it should stop. Requires painting.
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The window that leaks? Tear down all of the siding on that relatively small section of wall (it’s an outcropping), find the problem, fix the problem, put the siding back, replace the outer frame of the window. He’ll send us an estimate, but isn’t sure he can get the wood right now. I’m open to replacing it with plastic and we can discuss that more later.
-
The deck that’s falling apart? It’s not installed right, codes for safe installation have changed and it doesn’t meet them, it’s the wrong kind of wood, the frame can likely be reused, no you don’t want a concrete slab, That Guy. The deck is low to the ground and it would make maintaining that slab unnecessarily difficult. Maybe some limestone gravel if he’s really intent on putting something down.
Yes, that’s a critical repair. It’s becoming unsafe to use because the railings are falling off. We can get the TREX composite That Guy wants and depending on how chuffed we are about aesthetics it can be $12k-$15k to just refresh what’s there [stripping it back as far as needed and replacing almost everything]. His crew will also remove the random junk the previous owners left under there since they’ll have pulled almost everything out and have a truck for trash anyway.
He audibly groaned when he saw the mulch I’d laid under there, and kind of dove under to look but calmed down when he saw that I knew well enough to NOT mulch up to the support beams and had left them with plenty of clearance to help the ground dry out around the wood.
I don’t know everything, but I’m not stupid.
-
Then he’s like “Well.... Are you in a hurry?”
He went on and on and on about his upcoming mission trip to Uganda (if you’ve been on the whining side blog, a little bit of that conversation ended up there because hahahahahahahahahahah That Guy is such a fucking hypocrite) and I was like
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First off, if they say specifically “We don’t want Christians here changing things.”, and apparently a different mission’s locals did, then leave those people alone.
Second, that’s none of our business. You tell the client you’re booked up for a good while, maybe apologize for the length of that time if it’s long, and that’s it.
I had the same problem with Captain Overshare (I know, funny for ME to say that, but it’s different between in-person and online interactions because people can just stop reading something online) last time telling me horrible stories about his time as a volunteer firefighter and how his ex wife used to physically abuse his sons and.....
Dude. That’s not professional. Go to therapy.
I think he desperately wants someone to tell him he’s a good boy.
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skruffie · 20 days
Text
It is such whiplash to like... have intense imposter syndrome to a point where I immediately wanted to leave the round dance within minutes of getting there, then finally starting to relax and make small talk with some people and then get lost in the actual dancing
then coming home and reading this screenshot quoting Jacqueline Keeler:
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“Native American doesn’t mean Mexican Indians. It means Native people whose lands are under occupation here in the 48 states by the United States of America,” Keeler says, explaining that she is focused on political and legal status (Littlefeather was never an enrolled member of a tribe) because of the heavy ramifications of that experience across generations. “If you’re not enrolled in a tribe, you are not subject to Indian federal law [and] all of the trauma that happened under any of those terrible policies” such as the forced removal of Native children and placement into boarding schools and foster homes.
biiiig angry rant under the cut
I just can't get over the line "If you’re not enrolled in a tribe, you are not subject to Indian federal law [and] all of the trauma that happened under any of those terrible policies" because that is quite possibly one of the most insulting, stupid, and arrogant fucking things you can say so casually without even a second thought.
When I worked in state government I started to become a lot more informed about ICWA.
So like, did you know that if there's a child whose parents are enrolled but that child is not eligible for enrollment because of silly little things like blood quantum or being mixed from different tribes that all have different enrollment requirements, that child is legally not considered subject to Indian federal law?? ICWA is designed for Native children to be placed with their biological families first if taken into foster care, or within their communities, or within an Indigenous home before even considering a non-Native home. This is specifically because children were stolen en masse and given to non-Native families as recently as the 60s. I have given tobacco to and marched at protests with residential school survivors because quite a lot of them are still alive! Hello, the fucking epigenetics of trauma exist also!! PTSD research shows that descendants of trauma survivors have physical changes in their brain chemistry too.
Jacqueline Keeler exists in a world I guess where if you aren't enrolled then none of the trauma of displacement could ever happen to you, silly!! Except of course if you're taken into fucking foster care away from your family and culture, which is exactly the same trauma that your ancestors went through for generations!
Literally, just tonight at dinner, I was talking with a Tulalip guy who asked me if I worked for the school district and I said "nah but I'm an alumni from this district" (this was an event from the school district I graduated from as well as the local tribes) and we chatted a bit. I said I was Yurok and Métis and he was like "cool" and turned to one of his relatives and was like "Aren't you a bit Yurok?" and she went "What?? No". That's it. If I go on twitter I run into the fear that I'm going to get BraveWarrior3874429759 wanting the exact algebraic formula for what my BQ is before he decides if I'm faking or not. Or we get people like Keeler.
For years I've been really trying to think about the concept of being raised Indigenous. Racially I'm white, am always perceived as such, etc etc. That's reality. I think about my grandma and her brother who got raised by their grandpa who said "I never want them to feel like orphans" after their parents died. It was his own grandmother who was orphaned in the genocide. He moved to Los Angeles because it was safer to be seen as Mexican than as Native, and there are many other California NDNs that have the same family story like that. We're not enrolled but thanks to the help of relatives that died before we could know them, my mom and grandma still got literal reparations money for the land our family lost. When I reached out to the Little Shell tribe just to find more information on my ancestors on my dad's side, the sole enrollment officer (at the time, I'm not sure if they've hired new people now) told me we were cousins and gave me a lot of copies of documents should I try to enroll. I had already told her I can't but she did this anyway.
Toby Vanladingham, on twitter, had a thread a few months ago talking about how there's several Yurok tribal members that are enrolled because they meet the requirements in the tribal constitution in ways aside from just blood degree. He then went on to say that it really doesn't matter because they still recognize who is Yurok regardless of their enrollment status.
I can go on and on about this because the point isn't that we don't experience the trauma, it's that we are still welcomed to experience the culture and our family histories. That's the whole fucking point. My ancestors suffered greatly and made choices that I am still trying to understand in hopes that their descendants would not have to suffer. I think as long as I live I will never, ever understand the terror papa Andy felt or what Angeline went through in that school. I'm angry every time I remember my mom telling me how when she was a little girl and papa Andy told her "Don't tell anybody you're an Indian", and remembering her telling me that confusion growing up about what that meant. I go to these events in person and force myself to confront the immense discomfort over and over again because it gets easier each time, but only by small degrees, and I do this knowing that I am always going to be an outsider. I'm doing it anyway. Fuck Keeler and fuck this whole mindset.
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