#i just wrote little (or not-so-little) essays here and there for two years

[suzannahnatters]

So here's one of the coolest things that has happened to me as a Tolkien nut and an amateur medievalist. It's also impacted my view of the way Tolkien writes women. Here's Carl Stephenson in MEDIEVAL FEUDALISM, explaining the roots of the ceremony of knighthood: "In the second century after Christ the Roman historian Tacitus wrote an essay which he called Germania, and which has remained justly famous. He declares that the Germans, though divided into numerous tribes, constitute a single people characterised by common traits and a common mode of life. The typical German is a warrior. [...] Except when armed, they perform no business, either private or public. But it is not their custom that any one should assume arms without the formal approval of the tribe. Before the assembly the youth receives a shield and spear from his father, some other relative, or one of the chief men, and this gift corresponds to the toga virilis among the Romans--making him a citizen rather than a member of a household" (pp 2-3). Got it?

Remember how Tolkien was a medievalist who based his Rohirrim on Anglo-Saxon England, which came from those Germanic tribes Tacitus was talking about? Stephenson argues that the customs described by Tacitus continued into the early middle ages eventually giving rise to the medieval feudal system. One of these customs was the gift of arms, which transformed into the ceremony of knighthood: "Tacitus, it will be remembered, describes the ancient German custom by which a youth was presented with a shield and a spear to mark his attainment of man's estate. What seems to the be same ceremony reappears under the Carolingians. In 791, we are told, Charlemagne caused Prince Louis to be girded with a sword in celebration of his adolescence; and forty-seven years later Louis in turn decorated his fifteen-year-old son Charles "with the arms of manhood, i.e., a sword." Here, obviously, we may see the origin of the later adoubement, which long remained a formal investiture with arms, or with some one of them as a symbol. Thus the Bayeux Tapestry represents the knighting of Earl Harold by William of Normandy under the legend: Hic Willelmus dedit Haroldo arma (Here William gave arms to Harold). [...] Scores of other examples are to be found in the French chronicles and chansons de geste, which, despite much variation of detail, agree on the essentials. And whatever the derivation of the words, the English expression "dubbing to knighthood" must have been closely related to the French adoubement" (pp 47-48.)

In its simplest form, according to Stephenson, the ceremony of knighthood included "at most the presentation of a sword, a few words of admonition, and the accolade." OK. So what does this have to do with Tolkien and his women? AHAHAHAHA I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. First of all, let's agree that Tolkien, a medievalist, undoubtedly was aware of all the above. Second, turn with me in your copy of The Lord of the Rings to chapter 6 of The Two Towers, "The King of the Golden Hall", when Theoden and his councillors agree that Eowyn should lead the people while the men are away at war. (This, of course, was something that medieval noblewomen regularly did: one small example is an 1178 letter from a Hospitaller knight serving in the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem which records that before marching out to the battle of Montgisard, "We put the defence of the Tower of David and the whole city in the hands of our women".) But in The Lord of the Rings, there's a little ceremony.

"'Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone.' 'It shall be so,' said Theoden. 'Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Eowyn will lead them!' Then the king sat upon a seat before his doors and Eowyn knelt before him and received from him a sword and a fair corselet."

I YELLED when I realised what I was reading right there. You see, the king doesn't just have the heralds announce that Eowyn is in charge. He gives her weapons.

Theoden makes Eowyn a knight of the Riddermark.

Not only that, but I think this is a huge deal for several reasons. That is, Tolkien knew what he was doing here.

From my reading in medieval history, I'm aware of women choosing to fight and bear arms, as well as becoming military leaders while the men are away at some war or as prisoners. What I haven't seen is women actually receiving knighthood. Anyone could fight as a knight if they could afford the (very pricy) horse and armour, and anyone could lead a nation as long as they were accepted by the leaders. But you just don't see women getting knighted like this.

Tolkien therefore chose to write a medieval-coded society, Rohan, where women arguably had greater equality with men than they did in actual medieval societies.

I think that should tell us something about who Tolkien was as a person and how he viewed women - perhaps he didn't write them with equal parity to men (there are undeniably more prominent male characters in The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, at least, than female) but compared to the medieval societies that were his life's work, and arguably even compared to the society he lived in, he was remarkably egalitarian.

I think it should also tell us something about the craft of writing fantasy.

No, you don't have to include gut wrenching misogyny and violence against women in order to write "realistic" medieval-inspired fantasy.

Tolkien's fantasy worlds are DEEPLY informed by medieval history to an extent most laypeople will never fully appreciate. The attitudes, the language, the ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS use of medieval military tactics...heck, even just the way that people travel long distances on foot...all of it is brilliantly medieval.

The fact that Theoden bestows arms on Eowyn is just one tiny detail that is deeply rooted in medieval history. Even though he's giving those arms to a woman in a fantasy land full of elves and hobbits and wizards, it's still a wonderfully historically accurate detail.

Of course, I've ranted before about how misogyny and sexism wasn't actually as bad in medieval times as a lot of people today think. But from the way SOME fantasy authors talk, you'd think that historical accuracy will disappear in a puff of smoke if every woman in the dragon-infested fantasy land isn't being traumatised on the regular.

Tolkien did better. Be like Tolkien.

#tolkien #middle earth #jrr tolkien #lord of the rings #lotr #the lord of the rings #eowyn #writing fantasy #fantasy #female characters #writing #historical fiction #medieval women #medieval history #medieval #history #womens history

[thatdeadaquarius]

Have some more language brainrot for your brainrot

Writer reader getting kind of insecure that even if they write something nobody will understand it, so when Al haithem askes you if he can keep a draft or two just for analyzing, there's hesitant agreement but ultimately you tell him to please burn the documents once he's done. They're too awkward to look at now...

Only he doesn't burn them, in fact he ends up recruiting several people close to the creator with knowledge of olden speak to analyze them. A funeral parlor consultant well known for his historical knowledge, a 500 year old shrine maiden who owns and runs her own publishing house, and a bard who somehow butted his way in on the project. None of them could resist the opportunity to witness the creator's sacred scriptures with their own eyes.

Needless to say, the papers ended up being fought over and have been making their rounds around your acolytes. It started with Ei, who insisted that as an archon she also should see the creator's work with her own eyes. Then once Ningguang found out, she ordered they be handed over to a team of literary analysts in order to be properly handled and deciphered. Things got really messy quick, but have luckily come to a halt as none of the acolytes want the creator to know their random writings are being fought over.

Especially when it comes to the creator's sullen additute. Their acolytes first have to convince their holiness that their inability to read and understand the creator's writing shouldn't prevent you from doing what you love. In fact... could they convince you to write some more?

WRITER OR READER WITH TALENTS HAS MY WHOLE HEART LIKE-

On one hand, same 💀 id be terrified for my all time fav skrunklies to see my bs

But at the same time i rlly wanna show them goddamit- THANK U FOR THE BRAIN FOOD IM RUNNING LAPS AROUND MY HOUSE THINKING ABT THIS-

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them), Writer!Reader

Planet: Language Shenanigans

Orbit: Scenario

Stars: Alhaitham mostly, some of Kaveh, mentions of other Sumeru characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Insecure about craft/writing, anxious first pov (not serious),

& Trigger Warnings: Mild Negative self-talk, insecure perspective/reader “you”, possible anxiety depiction.

You were not a very confident writer.

This had been an avoidable feeling ever since you picked up a pen for the first time and were asked to write a story for school.

You were always anxious turning in essays, letting friends proofread them, anything that would expose your writing to more eyes, because you’d learned the hard way early on that as you get older and better at something, the stuff from the beginning… starts to look a lot different than you remember.

things you used to be proud of after having completed them in the moment, were something you struggled not to rip to shreds a year or two after you re-found it.

If it weren’t for other writers advising holding onto old work so you can see your progress over time, you’d have probably literally nothing older than one year on your ao3, wattpad, etc…

So when you had the fortunate luck (no it is not unfortunately, you are very happy to be here tbh) to fall headfirst into your video game you’ve been obsessed with lately,

You were not planning on showing them any of your writing.

Why would you, after all? You’ve got the weapons, the artifacts, everything they need to be more powerful. Why would you show them a silly little story you wrote? Fanfic or otherwise, not that theyll recognize any characters besides themselves, but still.

Alhaitham, bc ofc it was alhaitham, cocky, deviously aware bastard he is, caught you writing in your spare time first.

You’d gotten your hands on an old journal (if made you feel better than something completely new, a nice worn leather journal, sold at a secondhand shop from an old adventurer) and had started to write what you could remember about some of your ideas you’d had drafts for in your old world

After initially walking in on you writing in the House of Daena (it was the closest you could get to lofi girl, god u missed her lmao), you nearly jumped a foot in the air bc Haitham’s a nosy bitch and leaned over your shoulder and scared the absolute shit out of you, mans goes from asking politely, to begging you to let him read some of your writing over the course of 3 weeks (a month really)

Finally, after this 6 ft (about 180cm) man leans down one day (you’re sitting writing again), and gives you the most insanely good?? puppy dog eyes??? you’ve ever seen on a man???

you give in, revise a draft about 5 times in a row, lose sleep bc ur having a breakdown about alhaitham judging ur writing the night before you give him his copy-

and hand over a small short story for him to read. you specifically leave a little note not to judge you so hard for Haitham bc u werent used to people reading ur work/let alone someone as highly academic as him, ESPECIALLY since your speech is already so much more archaic than his/all of Teyvats-

His stupid green eyes with diamonds look into your soul (are they sparkling??) and he braces your shoulders after you give him his copy,

“Mine Greatest Guide, you hath deemed this one worthy of thy trust of your creations personally, I would be a fool to gaze upon it in jest. To take this work as anything less than a masterpiece in its infant stages.”

…you just leave him to it, and are nearly running out of there (u managed to be calm enough to just speedwalk),

and you make a point to not ask what he thought about it, or even bring it up at all

you’re kind of hoping he forgot tbh… and so nothing happens!

◇

Nothing happens… for 2 weeks after you gave Haitham a copy of your short story.

You still don’t know Alhaitham’s opinion when you see the advertisement, a sign saying something about, a new book? By YOU???

You nearly start a mob because the shopkeeper insisted you sign some copies, but you only signed a few before too many people overwhelmed you, and seeing it was that same draft- !! Oh god, you’d been agonizing over the spelling errors you’d missed when you gave it to Alhaitham, and now it’s just out there???

(luckily it seems the reviews are positive, but dammit you’ve been rereading ur story u gave him for days, and now ur positive it’s shit-)

You make a break for it, and are literally running (more like speed-walking after a while, since u got further away) thru Sumeru City:

you pass by the open patio of a restaurant, the scholars are heatedly discussing ur characterization-

you pass by Dehya, Candace, and Dunyazard, the merc is waving around a copy of ur book, the other two women look excited abt the conversation-

oh my god-

Nahida is relaxing in one of the many little gazebos thruout Sumeru, while Wanderer seems to be reading your story to her-

You fucking track down Alhaitham’s house like a bloodhound.

You are banging the infamous gay roommates’ front door, panting til ur throat burns raw.

“Yes, yes, alright, greetings to you too! I was simply visiting the Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham, tis why I’m here- Greatest Lord?!”

Kaveh is nearly jumps a foot in the air at the sight of you, but recovers, (you’re still not tho lmao)

and invites you in bc apparently, Alhaitham’s been meaning to talk to you about your draft you gave him!

Oh yeah, you’ve got some words to give Haitham after giving him that damn draft privately-

But when he sees you, the fucker just- smiles??

Like he’s done nothing wrong???

You’re about to tear into him when he speaks first to tell you the good news!

He grabs your hands at the table and gets down on one knee, ohhhh no.

Alhaitham is giving you those damn begging puppy dog eyes again.

“My Greatest Lord, Giver of Power, and Guide to All, your exquisite story has entranced all of Teyvat, might I please insist you write a sequel? It is an excellent literary piece to analyze… or perhaps, even better, share other stories you’ve written??”

…

….Motherfucker.

☆

Hello I’m alive! I just took a longer-than-usual break between posts from those last 2 mammoth pieces about gifts,

1: bc they were a lot to write in between writing other stuff like fanfics im already working on lol 2: I got busy with holidays and trying to apply to jobs!

Not that I’m still not doing that.. but you get what I mean!

Safe Travels Anon,

That being said, as you’ve probably noticed, I’ve made a kofi! so if you ever liked my writing (hot mess it is) and want to show me some love, feel free to leave a tip! :]

Iced coffee?? :0

💀♒

☆

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche

#hello i live #i just took a longer than normal break between posting bc the gifts were vv big and i had holidays/job searching to do #which i am still looking #but its better now #also gonna start linking my kofi if anybody is feeling generous! :] #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin isekai #my asks #genshin imagines #gender neutral reader #self aware genshin #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin impact isekai #genshin x reader

[bebebelll]

Pretty girls and flowers | lando norris smau

pairing: lando norris x student!reader warning: cursing, unrealistic if lando did this in real life the girl would absolutely get doxxed

yn_phd good morning by best pals! this month's episode will be out this tuesday. my lovely amazing talented so pretty best friend got two tickets to silverstone so if you're there come say hello👋! the podcast guest will be my old professor from freshman year so put down any questions you have about mary i of england! stay healthy and hydrated ❤️❤️

liked by bestie_n and 8 475

bestie_n omg dont praise me like that im blushing

username can you ask why henry 8 never made a marriage for mary?

username god i dont even like history that much but fuck are vlogs calming and sweet and pretty af

scuderiaferrari it's been a lovely weekend with charles_leclerc and carlossaiz55! P4 and P7 💪 Here is the first taste of the silverstone photo dump!

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 193 847 others

username CHARLES IN P4 CHARLES IN P4 CHARLES IN P4 I REPEAT CHARLIE CHUCK IS IN P4

landonorris whos that?

carlossainz55 its me landonorris no the pretty one charles_leclerc me? landonorris ew no the PRETTY one charles_leclerc ew? i will drive you to the wall

username not charles threatening to send lando into the wall in the comments

username you just fucking know he'd do it too just ask max

username is lando trying to hook up with the girl in the photo?

yn_phd i put on a little bow so i could be the prettiest girl at the bookstore ❤️today i wrote a page, went on a reading binge about chariot racing in ancient rome, had a breakdown and ate pasta.

liked by bestie_n, carlossainz55 and 11 264 others

username is this the girl @ landonorris

username lando the pretty girl is here

username cmon lando shoot your shot

username i mean he'll miss but its gonna be funny username no one trusts the rizz of this man with a shit beard

bestie_n who is lando? where have you people come from?

carlossainz55 i think this is the girl we were with

carlossainz55 she got lost around the track so we took a photo and got a staff member to help her. she was prettier in real life. good luck mr no rizz you need it username NOT CARLOS COMING FOR LANDO

username LANDO NORRIS

username this is the girl? not really seeing it doesnt feel like landos type you know

landonorris haha okay people lets not do this haha its not that funny it is a bit embarrasing hah (my dms are open for pretty girls always)

alex_albon well youre talented in the car at least

landonorris my dad scolded me for getting drunk on twitter so i went to eat their fridge empty. love being home

liked by carlossainz55, yn_phd and 385 749 others

username is he trying to look extra cute and soft to seduce the pretty girl?

username you just googled boyfriend material and tried your best huh

georgerussel63 i though youd chosen to go with the shirtless gym photos?

alex_albon you sent like fifteen different gym pics to the groupchat and then dont choose even one? fuck our help then i guess landonorris shut up shut up shut up

username i can see the pretty girl in the likes though 👀

yn_phd me and the gang went to a lecture about lord byron's sex life on thursday. i had a pretty cute visitor this weekend and even our lord and king aragorn the cat liked him!!

liked by landonorris, bestie_n and 9 736 others

bestie_n it was a lecture about lord byron's reputation and fame and how it effected the romance genre?

yn_phd exactly!

username are we gonna get an episode about THE george gordon byron please say yes

yn_phd my best pal i will rant about the whole geneva squad

username did lando norris actually do it

username did landonorris attend the lecture too?

landonorris ive never been happier that i chose karting and skipped school

yn_phd i have discovered hidden depths in myself. i can cry about essay structures and then drive bumper cars an hour later

liked by landonorris, alex_albon and 11 379 others

landonorris it was just karting babe they were not bumper cars

yn_phd but i crashed so much? landonorris you were great!! i was so proud!! 🧡

username okay but how does this relationship even work? if she doesnt know anything about racing?

yn_phd i tell him everything about the tudor dynasty and he explains to me how the drs works

landonorris use date night to play uno and see whos more competitive (me, i won)

liked by yn_phd, alex_albon and 385 739 others

yn_phd the way i screamed after you gave me those cards

username lando really be gambling with a new relationship

alex_albon poor girl

georgerussell63 remember when we played uno and lando got a +4 card from all of us and he got a mental breakdown alex_albon yeahh we had to take 10min break cause he left for a drive around the block maxverstappen1 the neighbours made a noise complaint too

yn_phd i got him flowers and later we both crash landed on the bowling alley floor

liked by landonorris, bestie_n and 13 847 others

alex_albon oh so this why you called me crying your tits off

maxverstappen1 he called you too?

landonorris pretty girl🧡🧡

yn_phd pretty guy❤️❤️

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris insta au #f1 social media au #lando norris imagine

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE

#writing #i'm not an expert #I just have been doing this a long time #and these are my feels #please feel free to throw away this strawberry

[ikissjae]

PAIRING … jung jaehyun x female!reader

THEMES … college!au. angst! lot more angst in this one. smut.

LENGTH … 7.7k.

WARNINGS … thigh riding. dry humping. virgin!reader and fuckboy jaehyun. cheating. please let me know if i missed something! MINORS DNI.

NOTES … i wrote this fic literally years ago as a someone i don't acknowledge anymore fic lol! this is a prequel to "During the Fall" and a continuation of "The Start of Spiring" which I will link in the source link below! hope yall enjoy! rbs, comments, and asks are always appreciated ♡

ㅤㅤㅤ© ikissjae 2023. translating and/or reposting is not allowed.

Jaehyun: hey

Jaehyun: are you up?

You looked up from the patronizing word document to see the texts lighting up your phone. You rubbed your eyes a little before grabbing the device, blinking a few times at the bright screen. Of course, you were up, you had an essay due before 5:30 AM and here you were at 2 AM struggling with a conclusion. You leaned back against your headboard scrolling through the texts you had previously shared with Jaehyun, a smile appearing on your lips when you saw the blurry photos of him from the party where you two met.

You haven’t seen Jaehyun since that party, so almost a month now, which you didn’t mind. He’d text you at least once a week, and he’d send you cute selfies on Snapchat, so he did keep his promise. He didn’t forget you. That’s all you really wanted from him. You could tell he wasn’t the ‘relationship’ type if you were being honest neither were you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want a relationship it’s more like you have these weird commitment issues, you would rather be alone forever than have your heart broken. Weird, yes, but it was safe, you liked being safe.

You: yah i’m up

You: why are you even up go to sleep big head

Jaehyun: my head isn’t even big ://

Jaehyun: i miss you i wanna see you

You stared at your phone, brows furrowed as your eyes glanced up at the time then back at the bubbles sighing quietly. You never had a boy in your apartment after ten, except that one time when you and Doyoung were cramming for finals last semester, and who knew what Jaehyun had on his mind at 2 AM. You sighed quietly reading the message for what felt like the tenth time before slowly typing out your response.

You: i mean…if you really miss me….you can come over

Jaehyun: ……..are you sure

You: come over before i change my mind loser

Jaehyun: alright alright i’ll be over in ten minutes

You felt your stomach twist at the last message but there was an unexplainable excited smile on your lips. Your eyes landed back on your almost-finished essay, you knew you should just throw together a pathetic conclusion and turn it in, but you couldn’t even focus on that. Jaehyun was coming over to your apartment. You were gonna see him again.

You were back and forth from typing a mindless conclusion to staring at the door for the past ten minutes. You managed to finish your essay, it was shitty but it was finished, you were now staring at your now screen sighing quietly looking back up at the door waiting impatiently with a quiet sigh.

It wasn’t that you wanted Jaehyun here, you were bored with nothing to do, Jaehyun was going to be something to do. Suddenly, there were a series of rhythmic knocks.

You squeaked excitedly, jumping up off the bed with an equally excited smile practically skipping to the door. You hated how excited you were to see him, you shouldn’t be this excited to see a boy who wasn’t even your boyfriend, but you were practically bouncing to open the door.

When you opened the door you were greeted with the beautiful sight of Jung Jaehyun wearing a large black hoodie with matching black sweatpants, his hood was up but you could see his highlighted hair falling on his forehead, he looked cozy and welcoming. He made your heart stutter a little bit, you couldn’t help but giggle softly up at him which made him smirk down at you.

“So that’s what you look like without fake eyelashes.” He teased tapping your nose sweetly with a deep chuckle. You scrunched your face up before you realize you were sporting a bare face, your hair was in its natural waves, and you were wearing some baggy sweatshirt. You probably look like a different person than the one he met at the party, a softer more comfy version, you were wishing you at least put on some concealer while you were wasting time staring at the door.

“Shut up.” 

You giggled stepping to the side to let him walk into your small apartment smiling softly. The boy took one long step inside the room, he looked around a soft smile growing on his lips as he took in your messy room.

“Who would’ve guessed you’re an actual wreck.” He teased pointing to your messy makeup corner with a soft giggle, you opened your mouth to defend yourself but he was right. You were, in fact, a wreck, if that wasn’t already apparent by you finishing an essay at 2 AM.

“I mean…You’re not wrong.” You shrugged kicking a few t-shirts into a corner with a small almost nervous chuckle as you looked up at him, a bright smile forming on your lips. You used your foot to close your door, sauntering over to him with a shy smile on your pink-tinted lips.

“I missed you, whore,” you told him quietly causing him to laugh softly, resting his hands on your hips , smiling down at you.

“I missed you too, virgin.” he laughed softly pinching your sides, making you squeal quietly, shoving his hands away laughing quietly, looking up at him as you took a step back sitting on your bed staring up at him.

“Virgin? Come on, Jaehyun you can do better.” You patted the space next to you, watching him sit down with an almost tired smile, playing with the fraying edge of your sweatshirt.

There is a silence, almost uncomfortable but not quite there, he let his fingers brush your thighs softly as he continued playing with the loose strings. You smiled softly at him, you could feel your heart swelling as you looked at him, slowly letting your hand push his hood down humming softly when you saw his dirty blond hair.

“You got highlights.” You smiled running a gentle hand through his hair, which was soft and silky, making him nod a little letting his hand drop. 

“You like it? I was having a crisis.” He chuckled letting his hand fall onto your thigh causing you to tense up a little, but you let it happen even resting your hand on top of his taking a step out of your comfort zone.

“It’s cute.” You tell him with a slight nod, blushing softly as he laced his fingers with yours. He smiled happily at your compliment, squeezing your hand softly pulling your hand up to press a soft kiss to your palm.

“I like dark roots a lot. I’ve always wanted to go blond with some dark roots, but I’ve never been bold enough to do it. I don’t know how I would look as a blond.” Jaehyun tilted his head at you, letting his hand grab a lock softly, twirling the strands around his finger, he smirked softly at the thought of you with blond hair.

“I’d like to see you as a blond. I think you’d look really hot, especially with the dark roots.” He tells you with a subtle wink making you blush softly, shoving his hand away softly.

“Shut up,” you told him weakly with a soft laugh looking up at him before quietly resting your head on his shoulder, humming softly into his hoodie.

“How have you been, baby?” He asks quietly running a hand up and down your spine, giving you a soft squeeze as you shrugged softly.

“I’m tired. I’m ready for summer break, ready to go home, ready to sleep regularly.” You told him honestly with a restless laugh.

“Where’s home?” He asked you before quietly patting his lap, waiting for you to move there. You look up at him scooting hesitantly towards him, you felt your stomach twist tightly as you slowly climbed into his lap keeping your back towards him. 

“America.” You told him as you situated yourself on his thick thighs nodding at your answer.

“America?” He pondered out loud, “Are you all by yourself here?” He was asking a lot of questions, you couldn’t imagine him really wanting to know more about your life, he only wanted to fuck you right? You nodded a little, letting your fingers skate softly over the black fabric, feigning an unbothered smile.

“Yeah, I do but it’s fine. I love Seoul, it’s beautiful.” You nod looking back at him before looking back down with a small shrug. 

“Where is your home?” You asked out of courtesy turning your head back towards him to see him smiling lazily at you, you gave him a subtle eye roll before squeezing his thigh in hopes of a response.

“Here. I was born here but moved to Connecticut when I was five for my dad’s work. I came back three years later. I never really left.” You watched his lips move as he talked unsurely about his time here, you looked back up at his eyes smiling a little at how his brows furrowed in concentration.

“So, do you have, like, an English name?” You tease, smiling down at him as he turns his face away from you, a bright smile on his lips.

“I actually have three names.”

This time your brows furrowed but in confusion. Three? This boy had three names? 

You wiggled to reposition yourself to be facing him. Jaehyun took this opportunity to grab your hips, pulling you towards him till your chests were pressed together making you blush softly. You put your hands on his chest to keep some distance between you two, but with hips flush against each other you were feeling everything.

“Tell me about your three names.” You inquire softly, squirming in his hold till you were comfortable again.

“I have my birth name, my name, and my English name.”

There’s a pause. You tilt your head a bit in curiosity, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

“Birth name? You changed your name?”

“Yeah. I wanted a name that meant something. It’s a bitch to legally change your name though so I just use Jaehyun more often than not.”

There’s another pause but this one is filled with quiet giggles and cheesy smiles. Your hands held tightly onto his hoodie smiling down at him, before letting them slide down to let them rest under the fabric feeling his invitingly warm skin.

“Tell me your names.” You felt him jolt back a little at the touch, but he soon relaxed against your palms making your heart beat a little faster.

“Well, my birth name is Jaehyun, my name is Yoonoh, you know that, and my English name is Jay.”

“Jay?”

“Jay.”

You let the name roll off your tongue a few more times before chuckling a little, letting your hands rest around his waist, thumbs rubbing soft circles into the flesh.

“Yoonoh.” You just about whisper to see his reaction, eyes trained in on his face your smile now faint. His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite read, he looked almost helpless, but the moment of weakness only lasted a second before it dissipated back into his usual cocky grin.

“Haven’t heard someone call me that in a while,” He reveals quietly, “I like when you say it. I like when you say all my names.”

There was a tense pause where you two just stared at each other’s lips, waiting for someone to make the first move. 

“I really missed you.” You tell him quietly, you can feel him grab your arms, pulling them out from underneath his hoodie, and placing them on his wide shoulders.

“Did you, princess?” He whispered up at you a soft smile leaning up to nuzzle his nose against yours, you blushed softly before nodding softly. “I missed you too. I’ve missed your mouth a lot.” He told you while tangling a hand in your hair to hold you in the current position.

“Of course you did.” You giggled squeezing his shoulders a bit before tapping his arm signaling him to let go of your hair which he did, his large hand sliding down your side to rest on your hip squeezing softly. 

“You’re kind of a slut, Jaehyun.” You joked pulling your head off of his laughing quietly as he scoffed looking up at you with an amused smile.

“And you’re kind of a prude, _____.”

You gasped quietly furrowing your brows, your face contorting a little in mock offense.

“I am not a prude, Jay.”

“So, you suck dick in a bathroom once and you’re not a prude anymore?”

“…Yes.”

He let out a boisterous laugh looking up at you with the brightest cleanest smile. You adored his smile, you have many screenshots of blurry snaps of his wide white smile. You could stare at him all day if he would let you. You let your hands cup his cheeks softly with a bright smile, making him smile even wider than before. You swear you could feel your heart practically fall out of your chest at the sight.

You wished Jung Jaehyun was different, you wished you had met him without knowing the copious amount of girls he fucked and left in the dust, but here you were with a tainted view of him that you couldn’t shake away no matter how many times he made your heart nearly fail. He hummed up at you, his hands skimming up your sides till his fingers collided with your exposed skin.

You shifted a little at the touch, he held tighter onto your waist smirking softly up at you. “What did you miss about me, baby?” He whispered letting his thumbs glide over your ribs softly, leaning up to press his forehead to yours. Your throat went dry, you could feel your stomach tighten at how close he was. Your hands dropped from his face to his shoulders blushing softly.

You opened your mouth to tell him how much you missed his lips, how you wanted to kiss him again, how you’d been thinking about him for weeks, but nothing came out your cheeks just burned brighter making you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He giggled squeezing your sides sweetly pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand skimmed up your back to tangle his hand in your hair to pull you back with a bright smile.

“Did you miss my fingers, baby?” He questioned smirking up at you with a small head tilt. You stared down at his lips nodding dumbly at his words, you heard him hum up at you leaning in to nuzzle his nose against yours sighing softly.

“Or did you miss my lips?” He whispered, “Did you miss kissing me? I missed kissing you.” He tilted his head to let his lips graze over yours to test the waters before he finally gave you what you wanted. His lips were still the softest pillows you’ve ever laid upon, you whimpered softly at the overwhelming burst of unrecognizable emotions in your stomach.

His lips were so soft, so sweet, so intoxicating, you missed kissing Jaehyun. He wrapped his arms tighter around your waist as he moved his lips against yours, you held tightly onto his hoodie trying to keep him close. He groaned softly as he pulled away to roll on top of you, manhandling you till you were against your pillow as you tried to catch your breath but his lips were reattached to yours in a matter of seconds. He made himself at home between your legs, you kept your grip on his hoodie tugging softly at the fabric.

“Take it off, Jaehyun.” You muttered pulling away, managing to catch your breath huffing quietly as he sat up not even hesitating before pulling the black hoodie off. Your hands were attached to his skin like a magnet, you wanted to feel him, you wanted to keep him close. You wanted him.

Oh god, you liked Jung Jaehyun.

You stared up at him with big almost panicked doe eyes, he leaned down to press soft kisses to your slightly exposed stomach. You let your head fall back with a small whine, you were going to lay there and let him do whatever he wanted. You’d let him do whatever he wanted to you. Scarily, you trusted Jaehyun a lot.

He wasted no time tugging down your sweats down to your knees, you swallowed thickly tugging softly on his locks to pull him back to your lips making him groan against your lips. He hummed softly into the kiss, pressing his hips into yours moaning softly. There was an amazing friction that made you shiver a little, digging your nails into his back with an airy chuckle.

“Keep doing that.” You whispered up at him causing him to smirk softly down at you. He rolled his hips into your clothed core, you could feel his growing length press against you which made you moan softly against his lips.

“You’re so adorable, baby.” He whispered pressing his wet lips to your jawline, nosing softly against your cheek. You bucked your hips into him with a deep shaky breath, he slid his hands up your sides to slide them under your top easily taking your breasts in his large hands.

You gasped softly at the contact, your hands skimming up his back to dig your nails into his skin looking up at him with hooded eyes. He rolled his hips into your clothed core causing a pleasant but short wave of pleasure to wash over you. You furrowed your brows at how good this was feeling, it was almost painful how short the waves lasted with each roll of his hips.

Holy shit, how did he always manage to make you feel so good?

He groaned gruffly against your neck, holding tightly onto your hips, continuing to rut against you his nails leaving crescents imprints on your skin. Soft grunts and gentle gasps filled your little room, red lines forming on his skin when your nails ranked down it, the slow burn in your stomach was starting to grow more intense every time he rolled his hips into yours.

“P-Please kiss me.” You whispered lazily draping your legs around his hips, sighing quietly feeling him kiss up your neck to finally press a soft kiss to your lips.

The tight tension in your stomach was growing uncomfortable, you whined softly into the feather-like kiss feeling his fingers wrap around the hem of your hoodie. You quickly shook your head with a thick swallow, trying to find your voice as you held tighter onto his shoulders.

“I-I want to keep it on.” You finally got out before the fabric could be lifted over your head. He looked down at you with a look of confusion for a second before nodding a bit, his hands falling to your waist smiling comfortably.

“That’s fine. That’s fine. Do you want to take a minute?”

You laced your fingers with his sighing softly as you wrapped your legs around his waist, tugging his hips flush against yours with a thick swallow. 

“I-I was really close. Whatever you’re doing, it feels really really good.” You nodded looking up at him with big eyes, a smug smile tugging at his pink lips as he nodded a little.

“I like making you feel good. You look so pretty when you cum, you know? I want to see that face again.”

Your cheeks burned once again as you looked up at him laughing softly, your eyes looking down at the bulge growing in his sweats.

“You’re really hard, Jaehyun.” You whispered chuckling softly at the sight, he looked up at you with a loud laugh pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, smiling against your skin. His hands skimmed down your sides to hold onto your hips groaning quietly.

He pulled away from you, pulling you up by your hips to place you in his lap, manhandling you till you were straddling his thigh making you gasp softly. He leaned against your wall smirking up at you as he slapped the back of your thigh, squeezing the flesh softly before motioning down towards his thigh.

“Want to take your panties off, baby?” He whispered burying his face into the crook of your neck, peppering soft kisses to the sensitive skin as you nodded slowly. You lifted your hips letting him slide the soaked fabric down your legs, smirking cockily when his digits brushed over your slick folds.

He moved you back on his thigh making you gasp softly, digging your coffin-shaped acrylics into his chest. Jaehyun groaned softly looking down at the pretty pale pink nails, he bit his bottom lip holding tightly onto your hips.

“Ride my thigh, baby.” He whispered leaning in to kiss your lips softly, his hands moving up to hold on tightly to your hoodie.

You didn’t waste any time before rolling your hips against the rough fabric of his sweatpants, loud whimpers falling from your lips into his as your hips moved desperately against him. He pulled away from your lips to watch you pathetically rutting against him, a cocky smirk on his lips chuckling softly as he leaned his back against your wall.

“You’ve done this before haven’t you?” He whispered grabbing a fist full of your hair tugging harshly, making you cry out softly as you dug your nails into his stomach.

Your cheeks glowed with at his question, brows furrowed as a pathetic whimper fell from your lips. Visions of those lonely nights with your pillow between your legs desperately rutting into the pillow, thinking about the quick yet explosive pleasure that eventually lolled you to sleep, but you couldn’t say that to Jaehyun not without wanting to die a little inside.

“Aw, look you’re blushing.” He whispered lowly the same smirk on his lips, “Do you hump your pillow, princess? Do you think about me?”

You only whined in response shutting your eyes tightly, trying to lean into him but the grip on your hair was unforgiving. He kept you still with the iron grip on your hair waiting for you to answer, flexing his thigh underneath you with a cruel smirk on his lips. You whimpered loudly as your hips rolled deeply into his hard thigh, your nails dug deeper into his skin crying out softly.

“Answer the question, _____.” He growled pushing you down till you were looking at him, face redder than before and you could only feel yourself getting redder under his intense stare.

“I-I do. I think about you all the time, Jaehyun.”

He chuckled darkly at the way your voice shook as if you were near tears. He liked seeing you like this, basically falling apart before of him, because of him, was so arousing and erotic his head was spinning. Jaehyun hummed in response, his fingers finally losing on your hair letting your head fall onto his chest, his arms wrapping around you with a quiet sigh.

“Tell me what you think about. Tell me everything.” He whispers into your shoulder, kissing the flesh gently. You kept your hips moving into his thick thigh, your eyes blown wide as your clit brushed against the rough fabric.

“I-I think about your dick. Holy fuck, fuck, your dick is so big and thick.” Your voice was whiny and shaky as you held on tightly to him, “I think about y-you inside me, stretching me out so good, f-fucking me till I’m shaking. Wanna know what makes me cum?” You questioned smirking softly at his bewildered eyes as he nodded quickly, a soft moan leaving his lips as he looked up at you.

You moaned loudly as he flexed his thigh under you once again, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as his eyes stayed trained on your lips.

“I think about you filling me up with your cum.” You shut your eyes tightly, your nails dragging down his chest watching his jaw drop a rough moan fell from his shiny pink lips.

“Fuck, Jaehyun–oh my god–Yoonoh.”

You cut yourself off when you feel the wave of pleasure wash over you, back arching into him as your moan catches in your throat, body rigid and nails deep into his skin. His hips jerked up a few times, low trembling moans ripping through his body as he held tightly onto your hips, you knew there would be bruises by tomorrow. A familiar groan filled your apartment, you were too overwhelmed by the short ripples of pleasure still rolling through your body, mindlessly nuzzling into his chest.

The room is full of heavy breathing, his hands letting go of your hips to rub softly at your thighs. You swallowed thickly against the crook of his neck, pulling away slowly to look at him with raised brows.

“Did you...Did you cum in your pants?” You asked moving your hands to his face, your thumbs stroking his cheeks when they glowed softly. He blinked a few times, brown eyes looking down at his sweats which were wet in multiple spots now. You watched a cute embarrassed smile appear on his glistening pink lips, his cheeks glowing brightly at your question.

“Y-You look so good when you cum. I couldn’t help it.”

You tilted your head at his weak tone, he looked so wrecked borderline pathetic from his orgasm. You felt something spark inside you seeing him like that, something that you’ve never felt before.

You wanted him.

Quietly you swallowed the urge with a small sigh, hands gently brushing his hair out of his doe eyes. You brushed the thought away, tossing your hair over your shoulder with a quiet hum. He groans softly looking up at you, cringing softly when he shifts his hips a little bit.

“Fuck. I feel gross. I feel really sticky.” He whispered his head falling back against the wall sighing contently, eyes fluttering shut as you ran your hands up and down his marked chest.

There was a blissful silence. A silence that you never wanted to end. You were the one to break it, pulling away to look at his blissful face smirking wickedly at him.

“You came fast and untouched. You must really like me, hm?”

“I liked the way you said Yoonoh. No one has ever said it like that.”

“No one has said it while cumming before?” You giggled stroking his hair softly, smiling at him gently. His eyes fluttered open to stare at your lips before looking up at you, swallowing thickly at the sight of the wet patch on his thigh.

Another silence filled your room, he leaned down to press soft kisses to your collarbones. You rested your cheek on the top of his head, nuzzling against his soft hair humming quietly as he brushed his nose against your throat. You wanted to stay like this, you wanted to keep him close, you wanted to stay in his arms, doused in his warmth as you both recovered from your orgasms.

You cleared your throat, untangling yourself from him as you slid off his thigh taking a deep breath with a soft huff. You looked around to find your underwear, you felt him move from behind you grunting uncomfortably as he stood up off your bed.

“Can I shower here? I don’t want to walk back with cum in my pants.”

“You walked here? Where’s your place?” You questioned sliding your underwear back on and turning towards him with a small head tilt. He turned towards you a soft smile adoring his pink lips, your eyes adoring the bright red lines on his tan chest.

“I live in the apartments a few blocks away.”

You nodded a bit trying to envision what his apartment looked like. Was it messy? Was it put together?

You could see shirts scattered across his floor, his bed unmade, and dishes in the sink. Maybe Jaehyun was a clean freak with a tightly made bed, spotless floors, and a pristine kitchen where everything is organized. Your eyes scanned over him quickly with a small smile, your chest aching a little at the sight of him.

“You can–” You turned toward your clock, the intimidating red numbers telling you it was nearing 3 AM. You couldn’t let him walk alone at 3 AM even though you knew he’d be just fine, but still, you’d be too worried to let him walk out of your apartment this late.

“You can…Stay the night if you want. It’s–um–it’s really late, you shouldn’t be walking alone this late.”

He looked a little surprised at your offer a soft chuckle left his lips as he thought about spending the night with you. He shrugged his broad shoulders with a small nod, a soft smile forming on his lips looking down at you.

“I would like that. We can finally–”

“Hold it, Jay. You’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Oh come on, prude. You know you want to snuggle with me.”

You rolled your eyes a little bit at the way his smile turned into a soft smirk. You aggressively pointed towards the small, pathetic, excuse of a bathroom you had, it was more like a closet with a shower in it. “Go shower. The cum in your pants is probably dried now.” You teased with a soft laugh, only laughing harder when he shot you a playful glare before turning around to disappear into your closet bathroom.

You dug through your drawer to find the lone pair of boxers you bought as an experiment last month. He’ll only need new underwear, right? You slowly knocked on the flimsy door, poking your head in the warm room, your eyes falling to the floor when you hear him pull your curtain back a bit.

“Couldn’t help yourself?” He teased smirking softly at you, running his hand through his wet hair as you blindly tossed the boxers on the sink. You only looked up to shoot him a slightly disgusted look, you watched him laugh at your expression before winking playfully tilting his head a bit.

“Thank you.” He tells you sweetly, an even sweeter smile on his lips, “I’ll be out in a minute.” He nods closing the shower curtain.

You closed the door behind you humming softly as you went to your closet, getting on your toes to pull down the extra blankets from the top shelf. You laid the blankets down for him next to your bed, grabbing one pillow from your bed to drop it on the ground. The makeshift bed on the floor was a pastel pathetic mess on your floor but he’d probably be fine, right? You stared down at the blankets almost leaning down to straighten them out, but there was a sudden vibration from the edge of your bed.

Your head shot up to turn towards your bed, seeing the fabric of his hoodie light up. You paused for a moment just staring at the glowing hoodie. Who was texting him at 3 AM? Without letting yourself hesitate, you pulled his phone out from its pocket sitting down on your bed to scroll through his notifications.

Every contact name was just initials. You found it odd but also didn’t question it. Jaehyun was a fuckboy after all.  You furrowed your brows at the screen.

q.k : if ur going to leave at two am pls be quiet when you do it

l.m.h : do u have the answers for the review i’m dying dude

k.d.h : baby i miss you :(

k.d.h : ik it’s late but i want to see you

k.d.h : jaeeeeeeee 

You blinked a few times at the messages. Who was k.d.h? Why were they texting him at two am? You heard the shower water stop, you quickly shoved the phone back into his hoodie, hands slightly shaky and mind racing. You shouldn’t be thinking this hard about someone he wasn’t even with right now. You shouldn’t be thinking this hard about Jaehyun in general. He should be an afterthought, he shouldn’t even be here right now, but here he was showering in your apartment.

When he walked out of the bathroom, toweling off his dripping locks looking up at you smiling sweetly at you before looking down at the mess of blankets beneath you.

“Is that my bed for tonight?” He asked adjusting his boxers as his eyes stared down at the pallet, his hand rubbing his stomach. You nodded a little forcing a small smile as he lay down on the floor, grunting softly as he rolled around trying to get comfortable.

“Stop being dramatic, oh my god.”

You teased reaching over to turn your lamp off a sudden wave of darkness swallowing your room. Tucking yourself in, you tangled yourself in your cold blanket sighing quietly as he rolled around with a series of small grunts. He reached up to place his hand on your bed trying to get your attention, tapping his fingers against your mattress waiting for you to pay attention to him.

“Go to sleep, Jaehyun.”

“I can’t.”

“You haven’t even tried, you crackhead.”

“Maybe I don’t want to sleep. Maybe I want to keep talking to you.”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.” You groaned shoving his hand off your mattress with a small eye roll. He sat up to look at you, you could make out a disgruntled look on Jaehyun’s face. You weren’t looking at him. You didn’t want to look at his giant shoulders and beautiful face, not with the daunting question of  “Who’s k.d.h?” racking your brain. He stared at you do a second, running a hand through his damp hair as he tilted his head a bit.

“You’re getting…hostile again. Is this how you act with the people you like?”

“I don’t like you.” You quickly denied with furrowed brows, “Like that. I don’t like you like that.” You lied with a thick and hard swallow.

There was a silence that made your stomach twist and turns, you finally looked at him with furrowed brows sighing quietly. “Don’t look at me like that.” You whispered looking down at him with a soft sigh, slowly letting your hand drop down to rest softly on his shoulder. You rubbed circles into the taut skin waiting for him to say something, but he just stared at you with his big eyes making you sigh quietly.

“You don’t like me like that and you know it.”

He scoffed quietly before shaking his head. “You’re so…You’re so aggravating.” You frowned your brows at his word choice, shoving his shoulder harshly with a huff. 

“I am not. You’re the aggravating one.” You snapped sitting up to look down at him with slight irritation on your face. He looked up at you with an equally as irritated look, laughing bitterly as he got on his knees to be closer to your level.

“You act like you know me and everything about me–”

“Don’t start that shit again please.” You groaned rolling your eyes. He raised his brows at you in slight shock that you interrupted him. You mocked his shocked expression trying to get a rise out of him. You wanted to see him angry, you wanted him mad, but you weren’t getting it from him. He just stared at you, brows furrowed and lips tightly together, as he tilted his head a bit at you.

“I know enough about you to know you don’t want to date me, Jaehyun. You can say you just want to fuck me and it’ll be fine. Just stop acting like you want something more from me.”

“That’s-That’s not true. I like you. I don’t want to just fuck you. I want–”

“If you like me so much who’s k.d.h?”

There’s a sharp and heavy silence. He stared at you with frowned brows he looked confused, angry, and guilty at the same time.

“You looked through my phone?”

“It was kind of hard to ignore seeing k.d.h was texting you every five minutes.”

“You looked through my phone?” He repeated more sternly this time standing up to look down at you suddenly making you feel ten times smaller than you already felt. You averted your eyes awkwardly as he turned on your lamp, you flinched at the burst of dim light keeping your eyes down. He leaned down getting dangerously close to you, his face too close to yours for your comfort.

“Answer me, _____.”

“I did.” You finally whispered, shoulders slumped and eyes focused on your floor taking a deep breath. His stare was finally getting the best of you, you could feel your chest tightening, your stomach dropping, and a burning sensation in your eyes. You felt like a child being scolded, you hated this, you hated him for making you feel this way.

“Who is she?” You asked pathetically, blinking a few times trying to ignore the tears brimming your eyes. You looked up at him, head tilted sympathetically as your eyes begged him for an answer. His face softened at the utterly depressing look on your face, slowly resting a large hand on your bare thigh making you huff softly dabbing your eyes with your thumb.

“Her name is Kim Dahee. She’s…She’s my girlfriend.”

Your jaw dropped a little when you heard her name and the title she carried. He swallowed thickly looking down, sighing quietly, squeezing your thigh a little as your bottom lip quivered a bit. 

You felt gross, you felt used, you felt like a bad person, oh god, you were a bad person. 

“You-Your girlfriend?” You asked quietly, brows knit together feeling your chest get painfully tight at the fact this conversation was happening.

“We’ve been dating for around four months now.” You finally turn away from him wanting to throw up at the fact you were the other woman. Were you really though? You didn’t even know what the other woman entailed, so did you really fit the mold of the other woman?

“Oh, my god. Oh my god, you fucked my throat in a bathroom while you had a girlfriend! Y-You came over to my apartment, made out with me, came in your pants because of me, you tell me all this-this bullshit about liking me and you have an entire girlfriend! How fucking dense are you!”

You exploded shoving his hand off of your thigh, wanting no physical contact with Jung Jaehyun for the rest of your life. You’ve never felt so dumb in your life. You were an idiot. A dumb slut. You really let yourself fall for some dumb boy with a girlfriend. God, you felt disgusting.

“Hey, hey, calm down baby–”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that. What the hell is wrong with you?”

You snapped turning away from him to wipe your eyes with a frustrated groan, you shook your head sniffling softly. Hot tears were running down your cheeks, you couldn’t seem to stop the steady streams from dripping onto your sheets.

“You fucking preach how I don’t know you, how judgmental I’ve been towards you, and you’ve been cheating this whole time?” He pursed his lips together, not being able to say anything just sighed quietly looking at his feet. For the first time you left Jaehyun speechless, he was just standing there like an idiot.

“I should’ve known. I did know. I knew who you were, I knew you didn’t care about me or anyone but yourself, and I still––”

Your throat closed up a bit, letting out another frustrated groan, and looked up at him with a shake of your head.

“I was right about you.” You whispered looking at him with teary eyes, your chest aching a little at how hurt he looked at your words. You pretended you didn’t care, you knew he deserved it, but that didn’t stop it from causing an uncomfortable tightening sensation in your chest. There’s this heavy silence, one where he just stood in front of you guilt all over his beautiful face. You swallowed thickly, climbing back under your blankets holding tightly onto the comforting soft cover as you turned your back towards him.

“I want you out by seven.” You deadpanned staring at your white wall the light suddenly going out darkness consuming your room once again. “Alright.” He mumbled laying back down on the flimsy palette, sniffling softly as he rolled on his side.

Another heavy silence.

“You…You won’t tell her, right?”

You thought about it for a minute. You were never good at confrontation, especially with girls, you couldn’t imagine even approaching the stunning angel that was Kim Doyeon let alone telling her all the things you had done with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend. Jaehyun was her boyfriend. He was never going to be yours. No matter how hard or quietly you wanted him, he would never be yours.

“I won’t.” You whisper turning on your back to stare at the ceiling, the last of your silent tears running off your cheeks and onto your pillow. “Jaehyun,” Your tone was so weak and soft you hoped he would actually take you seriously, “I-I don’t want to do this if-if you have someone.”

Another damn silence.

“Okay. Okay, I get it.” You blinked a few times trying to get the sting of his agreement to get disappear, sighing softly at how heavy you felt. You at least thought it would be lighter after the resolution, but it only seemed to make everything heavier.

“Goodnight, ___.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t respond. You just stared at the wall, eyes heavy, but you couldn’t find sleep even though you desperately wanted to. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours, blankets tangled between your legs, Jaehyun’s even breathing the only sound filling your room. Your eyes looked up at your window seeing a faint ray of orange streaming into your room.

You blinked your heavy lids before looking down at the sleeping boy on your floor, a sad smile on your lips when you glanced over his relaxed figure sighing quietly. He looked beautiful sleeping, his long limbs relaxed and sprawled out on the floor, his lips relaxed and slightly parted, he was so beautiful. Slowly, you laid back down closing your eyes, trying to coax yourself back to sleep.

Suddenly there was a loud ring through your room, one you flinched at but didn’t say anything about it. You heard him groan and shift around, stumbling through your room to find his clothes, grumbling inaudible things as he gathered his things trying to be as quiet as he could. You kept your eyes closed, pretending to be asleep not wanting to deal with him or the inevitable goodbye that was to come.

The shuffling sounds grew closer till you felt his hand on your cheek. You couldn’t help but jump away a bit before leaning into his palm, knowing if you opened your eyes you’d be met with those doe eyes that made your chest want to explode. Slowly, you felt tentative lips press against your forehead, making your chest want to explode as usual. Without hesitation you let your eyes flutter open, staring up at him with tired yet wide eyes swallowing quietly as you two made eye contact.

You two just stared at each other, you could feel him begin to rub soft circles against your skin. He sighed quietly at how tired and sad you looked because of him, you finally adverted your eyes from his brown ones letting them focus on his wrist as you slowly place your hand on top of his. He was dressed in the clothes from last night, his hair was a wreck, and his eyes looked tired but he was still mesmerizing. It was way too quiet for your liking, it was weird for Jaehyun to be this quiet for this long but you understood.

You sensed him leaning in again. You almost let it happen, you almost let your lips collide with his, but even when his plush lips just brushed against yours you felt nerve-wracking guilt wreck through you. You turned away last second, your chest aching with want when you did so. You wanted him. You wanted him so bad but not like this. He rested his forehead against the side of your face, sighing quietly over the rejection before pressing one last soft kiss to your cheekbone.

He didn’t say anything, just grabbed his phone and walked out just like you expected him to. You slowly leaned down, grabbing the pillow he slept on with a soft sigh, pulling it to your chest with another quiet sigh nuzzling your face into the plush pillow. You inhaled the fading scent of him, your eyes growing wet as he filled your senses nails digging into the pillow.

There was a moment where you let yourself cry into your pillow. You let yourself mourn over a relationship that wasn’t even real, you could feel your eyes begin to burn at the steady flow of tears running down your cheeks. You finally lifted your head to wipe your eyes, sniffling a bit as you forced yourself to stop crying over Jaehyun, causing you to hiccup a little bit.

You checked the time on your phone rubbing your eyes till they were red and wet, blinking a few times to see your screen more clearly. It was only 7 AM. You could fall asleep and wake up before noon, get something to eat maybe, then make it to your study group by three. You put your phone back on your bedside table exhausted, burying your face back in Jaehyun’s pillow, hiccuping once again. You slowly fell into a weak sleep longing for him to be beside you.

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagine #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun angst #nct imagines #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct x you #nct ff #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 angst

[danaewrites]

you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)

part i: and while you were asleep, i was surely awake

james potter x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 2.8k

summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”

tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader

author's notes: hii y'all, sorry for not posting in a year :P my only excuse is that i didn't feel like taking the energy to actually write out my story ideas. also perfectionism. anyway i somehow wrote this in two hours while procrastinating my college app essays and have plans to make this a multi-chapter fic despite intending to write an angsty oneshot request for a completely different fandom (i see you, beloved anons, and i raise you this completely unrelated fic <3)… the brain of a writer works in mysterious ways.

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)

You were in love with James Potter.

It was a fact of life, just like how the sky was blue, or that his favorite dessert was treacle tart, or that you were the only person he’d ever let see him cry besides his mother. You’d loved him from the moment you met him on the train to Hogwarts as a shy, anxious muggleborn unsure of the new world of magic and prejudice you’d been thrown into without so much as a warning. He hadn’t cared at all about your blood status- didn’t even think to ask about it. He had launched himself into your compartment and began talking at you a mile a minute, beaming with every tooth showing once he found out you were hoping to get into Gryffindor, his hazel eyes alight with the joy of making a new friend. And friends indeed you had become; you were proud to remember that you’d known him before Sirius or Remus or Peter did, though it took only an instant after the Sorting for him to become best mates with the rest of them, too.

You and James were inseparable from that moment on, giggling at Professor Binns’ failure to notice Sirius’ antics in the back of class and reassuring each other when home seemed too far away for comfort. He stole sweets from the Slytherin table for you at meals, and you covered for him when the teachers almost caught him pranking Snape– after all, who would believe that sweet, innocent Y/n would ever be involved in such shenanigans? The soft-spoken demeanor and love of everything pastel you’d thought would eventually oust you from the close-knit Gryffindor boys’ group proved to be quite the useful asset when affirming their ‘innocence’.

Not that they only wanted you around because you were helpful, of course. You had quite the talent for exaggerating stories until even Sirius fell off his seat laughing in disbelief, and your creative mind made for some glorious pranks and entertaining mistakes. Peter would blush for an hour straight if anyone mentioned The Great Plum Pudding Incident of Christmas 1974, all thanks to your clever meddling. And Remus– well, he was eternally grateful for your mother-henning during the worst of his moon cycles. You’d been the first to figure out his “furry little problem”, and upon learning that enjoying chocolate was his favorite method of escapism, showed up every month without fail with an armful of Honeydukes sweets. The little ways in which you loved each Marauder meant the world to them. They would do anything to protect you and make sure you were okay, James most of all. You often teased James that he was more bodyguard than friend, with his deep glares at too-forward Hufflepuff boys masking the big softie you knew he was underneath. You remembered fondly the summer days he spent chasing you around your house, scaring your mother half to death with his colander-and-pot ‘armor’ as he declared that as a chivalrous knight, he was meant to save Princess Y/n from the terrible Acromantula King. Privately, you thought James had a few too many Arthurian legends for bedtime stories as a child, but what could you do?

Even now, as sixth years, the bond between you and James never changed, your love for him ever-growing. Your heart melted every time you glanced over your shoulder in the hallway, only to find him chatting softly with a sniffling first-year and guiding them to Professor Sprout’s office for a hot cuppa and a biscuit. You cheered at his Quidditch victories and were euphorically lifted up onto his broad shoulders afterward, whooping as he galavanted through the common room in celebration. You were there when he needed a shoulder to cry on when his grandfather died, softly stroking his hair as he fell asleep in your lap with tear tracks still running down his face. And he adored you in return– braiding your hair while you worked on Herbology essays, racing you on his beloved broom when you stayed with him during the summer, distracting you from your rants about Slughorn’s unfair grading with a trip to the kitchens and a blissfully soft blanket.

James was your lifeline and you his– and nothing in the world could change that.

Except, perhaps, one tiny little complication. A complication with vibrant red hair, sparkling green eyes, and a natural affinity for Potions. A complication that had sparked your jealousy since the first time you noticed James glancing dreamily at Lily Evans in second year Transfiguration, jealousy that had only gotten worse with his grand declarations of love every week. He’d begun to announce his affection for the muggleborn to anyone who would listen in third year, and it didn’t stop there. No, when James Potter loved someone, he loved hard, and that meant that you had to watch as beautiful bouquets appeared on Lily’s nightstand nightly while the rest of the girls in your dorm whispered and swooned. You were a wallflower when he sighed about how lovely her skin was and how bloody talented she was at everything she did during one of your late-night chats in the common room, curling in on yourself with every word he spoke. When he asked her to Hogsmeade the first time (and the second, and the third, and the fiftieth), you observed as she rolled her eyes and shoved past him, despite the small smile on her face.

It wasn’t that Lily wasn’t smart or pretty or talented– far from it. She deserved every good Potions grade she got, and even the pureblood Slytherins begrudgingly noted how she was the darling of Hogwarts society. But you thought that the way she treated your best friend, refusing his advances quite harshly but sending him flirtatious glances and making a show of wearing his flowers in her hair, was rather unkind and misleading. She had James wrapped around her little finger and didn’t seem to want to let go of his attention anytime soon, despite Snape’s protests about how much time he was spending with her. You disliked Severus, but didn’t think he deserved Lily’s bad treatment either. Sometimes you’d see him staring at James and Lily deep in conversation, and shoot him a glance of communal disappointment– before realizing who you were sharing the moment with and resuming an expression of disgust, at least.

At first, you ignored your growing angst about his new obsession, chalking it up to sleep deprivation, stress over your upcoming exams, and even your monthly. But when you started to run out of excuses for the despair slowly overtaking your heart and flashes of his dark curls began to appear in your sweetest dreams, you were forced to admit that your feelings for James ran much deeper than a platonic friendship. From the way he spun you around in the snow to the way he snorted at Remus’ awful puns, you were head-over-heels smitten with your best friend.

The way he’d filled out since the end of fourth year hadn’t escaped your notice, either; you were pretty sure that his pecs should be considered a traffic hazard, with the way you’d fallen flat on your face after seeing him shirtless after a match. He’d rushed over to clean up every one of your injuries, of course, with a touch so gentle it released a whole menagerie of butterflies in your stomach. You’d barely managed to mumble a coherent thank-you before sprinting to take a very cold shower and scream into your pillow with embarrassment. How on earth did Lily Evans even think around him?!

Alas, you’d read your fair share of romance novels, and you knew how this story would end. Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.

That was the state Sirius found you in, broody and lost in thought in a quiet corner of the library. He grinned rakishly, planting a well-polished boot on a nearby chair and leaning over to tap your forehead. “Lots going on in there today, huh?”

You snapped out of your daze and smiled sheepishly up at him. “Sorry, Siri, didn’t mean to ignore you. Just, er, thinking about my Potions essay, do you know how many uses there are for mandelwort? Quite fascinating plants, hones–”

Sirius winced and slid back far across the table. “Oh, no, you are not discussing horrid Potions work with me today when there are so many other wonderful topics.” He gestured to a table of swooning fifth-years gazing dreamily at his backside. “For example, those lovely ladies,” he crooned, sending an exaggerated wink towards them and smirking when they sighed.

You wrinkled your nose and scoffed. “Oh, please, as if I haven’t heard enough about your conquests already. I’m already scarred for life from your stories about that Belgium Veela, let alone the muggle sailor you nearly broke the Statute of Secrecy for.”

He waved a hand, dismissing your allegations of the mental injury caused by his excruciating attention to sordid detail when slightly tipsy in the common room. You made a mental note to charm his shampoo to turn his hair bright lavender for the next week for that little snub. Although, being Sirius, he’d probably just use it as an excuse to sway the rest of the Hogwarts population into going to Hogsmeade with him. “Ah, but darling Y/n, that’s what I’m here for!” He furrowed his brow and stroked his chin in mock consideration. “However, I can’t seem to recall a time when you–” here he poked you in the cheek for emphasis– “confessed to a little tete-a-tete in the hallway. Ever. Which means we have a problem,” he grinned.

You felt rather like prey being hunted for sport. “That would be because I’m not interested in anyone, you dolt!” Crossing your arms, you turned your face back towards your homework. Maybe if you denied romantic interest for long enough, Sirius would leave you alone and go flounce off to flirt with the noisy table of fourth years. “Anyway, I heard Marlene’s been circling Dorcas like a lovesick pigeon lately, so perhaps you should be putting your matchmaking efforts to her benefit instead.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “C’mon doll, I know you weren’t actually thinking about Potions when I arrived. Who’s the lead actor in those fantasies, mm?” He snatched up your favorite pink gel pen, twirling around his fingers as he looked at you expectantly.

Drat. He wouldn’t be so easily distracted with the latest gossip. You opened your mouth to protest yet again when you caught a flash of red over Sirius’ artfully tousled locks. You watched as James strode up to the alcove where Lily and her friends were studying, transfigured a sheet of parchment into a butterfly clip and held it out to her with a grin. Her laughter pealed out through the library as she let him lean over her shoulder to place it in her hair. He seemed oblivious to the titters of the girls around him while he gazed at Lily adoringly. You felt your heart clench as you recognized the expression on his face; you’d seen it on your own in the mirror after spending time with James, after all. And it seemed like maybe Lily was finally starting to be swayed into accepting his starry-eyed proposals, if the pretty blush on her cheeks was anything to go by.

Sirius tracked your despairing gaze to the couple and immediately paled in realization. “Oh, shit.”

Shit, indeed. Your face turned bright red as you scrambled to pack your bag and leave the area as fast as you possibly could, not sure how you could face Sirius knowing your deepest secret now. The boy had no self-control, fueling the Hogwarts gossip mill with the wild stories he overheard, and he had even less discretion when confessing things to his friends around the common room fire. It’s no wonder he wound up in Gryffindor, you thought miserably. There’s no way he’d be able to keep a secret like the rest of the Slytherins, and definitely not from James. It would only be a matter of time before he let it slip about your feelings to the rest of the Marauders, and— well, you’d just have to face losing your best friend for good once he heard.

Sirius broke your train of thought by wrapping his hands around yours, looking up at you with concern. “Hey, doll, wait— I didn’t know—“

You sniffed and wiped the tears threatening to fall from your eyes away fiercely. “That’s exactly it, Sirius, you didn’t know because you won’t be able to keep it from James.”

He looked guiltily down at the table. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit of a git with keeping things private lately, yeah?”

You nodded, covering your face with your hands. Sirius reached out, placing them back down on the table, and softly said, “Listen, I shouldn’t have pried so hard. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” He broke off, pausing to scramble for a handkerchief from his bag to wipe off your rapidly disintegrating mascara. “And I promise not to breathe a word of this to James,” he finished.

You looked up at him, startled. “Are you serious?” At his answering grin, you groaned. “Don’t answer that. But really, are you sure that you’ll be able to resist telling him everything?” You fiddled with the now-soiled handkerchief and whispered, “You two are so close, I don’t want to drive you apart. If James thought you were hiding something important from him, it would destroy him,” you sniffed.

He frowned. “Doll, you know you’re just as important as James is to me, right?” At your answering slump, his jaw clenched and he continued on with more intensity. “You’re like my sister, Y/n, there’s nothing you could do to make me care for you less. Especially not asking for your privacy. Clearly, I haven’t been treating you as well as you deserve if you doubt that.”

He walked around and took a seat in the armchair next to you, pulling you in to lean on his shoulder. “And I can be discreet, you know. I might not show it often, but growing up in a family of the most intensely secretive purebloods ever to exist taught me a few things.” You glanced at him doubtfully, the tiny quirk of your mouth the only sign that you were joking. “Hey, I’m being serious!” He laughed, then quieted suddenly. “This thing with James— you really love him, don’t you?”

You gave him an exasperated look out of the corner of your eye. Sirius released a breath and gazed deeply into the space in front of him. “Hey, we’ll figure this out together, okay?” He poked you in the side. “If he’s too focused on the smell of Evans’ hair or whatever to see that he already has the perfect girl in front of him, he’s not as smart as you think he is.” You giggled slightly, his words warming you. Sirius smiled, happy to see you cheering up a bit.

“Why don’t we go raid the kitchens? The coolest person I know once told me that elf-crafted mint chocolate chip ice cream is the best way to heal a broken heart,” he teased. You groaned, remembering how you’d told him that as a last resort to get him to stop complaining about how he missed his sailor ex-boyfriend every time you two went to Hogsmeade. At least your random advice wound up benefiting you now, you thought as you collected the last of your stationery and exited the library.

Neither you nor Sirius saw how James watched you smile up at Sirius as you walked away, holding his arm and laughing loudly at something he muttered. Anna Dumotier, a Hufflepuff fifth-year and one of Lily’s friends, would remember later that night how he seemed to tune out Lily’s voice for a moment and stared at the doors to the library with a strange expression on his face. His brows were furrowed like he was trying to decipher the answer to an unfamiliar puzzle, his eyes widened with confusion and a glint of something she could only identify as jealousy before Lily brought him back to the conversation with a graceful flip of her hair. But no— she shook her head— that couldn’t be right. What could James possibly be jealous of when he finally had the girl of his dreams in his arms?

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl

comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

read on: part ii

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #sirius black #bisexual sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #fem reader #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #marauders #marauders x y/n #lily evans #harry potter #hp fandom

[colleendoran]

The Secret Language of a Page of Chivalry: The Pre-Raphaelite Connection

Adapting Neil Gaiman’s Chivalry is a decades-long dream fulfilled. The story as text can be enjoyed on multiple levels, and so can the art. You look at the pages and see the pretty pictures, but the pictures also have meta-textual meaning. Knowing this secret language adds to the experience.

Some people pick up the references quickly, but I’ll share with you some more of what’s going on under the surface.

In Ye Olden Days of Art Making, most painters made pictures that contained visual narrative cues. Flowers in a picture might be heraldic signs that signaled political affiliations, or could indicate purity, anger, or love. Purple was the color of kings. A dog in a picture might represent faithfulness, and butterflies could represent the soul.

There are Pre-Raphaelite paintings with so many symbols and ideas in them that you need a deep working knowledge of Victorian and Edwardian social mores to understand what’s going on.

For example, Ford Madox Brown’s Work, a painting which took some 13 years to complete, was first exhibited in 1865 with a catalogue explaining all its symbols and elements. There is nothing in that picture that doesn’t mean something.

I brought some of that visual meta-textual sensibility to Chivalry, (and I’ve written about the symbolism and meanings in the work in other essays.)

I also brought into the work direct Pre-Raphaelite art references.

From 1868-1870, Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones created four paintings illuminating the tale of Pygmalion and Galatea, entitled Pygmalion and the Image, and wrote a poem with each line titling one painting:

The heart desires

The hand refrains

The godhead fires

The soul attains.

A perfect little poem for Chivalry, and I think of it often when some people present me with what I think is a very strange question: why didn’t Galaad just take the Holy Grail from Mrs. Whitaker?

It kind of breaks my heart that people would even ask that.

Burne-Jones painted two versions of this series of which this is the second.

In the first panel of this page, Sir Galaad kneeling before the Grail is derived from the figure of Pygmalion kneeling before Galatea: The Soul Attains.

Sir Galaad’s restraint even in the face of his greatest desire makes him worthy of his prize.

There are two Pre-Raphalite references in this page, the most obvious being in panel 2: it’s Sir John Everett Millais’s 1857 work A Dream of the Past: Sir Isumbras at the Ford.

The painting was very poorly received on first exhibition, compelling Millais to redo significant portions of it. It was caricatured and ridiculed, and then ended up becoming influential and popular, and isn’t that the way it goes.

That’s an art career in a nutshell, really.

The Sir Isumbras image also influenced John Tenniel’s illustrations for the Lewis Carroll Alice in Wonderland novels.

Sir Isumbras derives from a 13th century Medieval romance poem about a good knight whose pride causes him to fail in his Christian duty. He is presented with a series of difficult challenges before he can find happiness again, reunite with his family, and be forgiven his sins. The painting by Millais is based less explicitly on the poem than it is on a later parody of the poem. (It’s complicated.)

My using Sir Isumbras as the base for the shot of Galaad with the children is obvious here. In the Millais painting, Sir Isumbras carries a woodcutter’s children across the ford. In Chivalry, Sir Galaad carries the children of Mrs. Whitaker’s neighborhood down the street.

While Sir Isumbras spent many years learning humility and Christian duty, Galaad has a long quest to fulfill before he can achieve his goal. And on the way to that goal, he’s humble and nice to children, too.

That the Millais painting was such a huge influence on many a depiction of knighthood over the years made it a perfect reference point here, and the story behind both the painting and the poem give it further layers of meaning.

The next panel has a far less obvious reference, but the source is Arthur Hughes’s painting The Rescue.

Arthur Hughes is one of the lesser-known Pre-Raphaelites, but his art is widely seen and influential. He’s certainly been a big influence on me, as many of his paintings appear again and again in Arthuriana references, as he was a prolific King Arthur picture tale teller.

The Rescue (1907-1908) was originally part of a diptych which was separated and sold back in the 1920’s. His style was becoming unpopular by the time Hughes painted the work, and little is known about this work except that one panel was in the collection of Andrew Lloyd Webber at some point. Maybe still is. Dunno.

Anyway, the diptych depicts a little child kneeling in prayer menaced by a dragon in one panel, and in the next, safely trotting away with a knight on horseback. I like that this is a diptych, a kind of proto-comic art form common in medieval religious art, so this was perfect to use here.

Another reference to Arthur Hughes is in this double page splash from later in the book as Galaad on his quest encounters the Hesperides.

I didn’t set out to reference this Arthur Hughes piece at first, but it’s one of my favorite paintings. When I realized my sketches for this scene kept echoing the Hughes composition, I went with it. The Hughes painting of Galahad is one of the most famous depictions of the character, so it makes me happy to have this referenced in Chivalry.

Kindly ask for CHIVALRY, published by Dark Horse Comics in the USA and by Headline Books in the UK at your local comic shops or bookstore. Written by Neil Gaiman. Adaptation and art by me.

For further reading on this project, go HERE.

HERE.

And HERE.

Thank you to my Patreon patrons for sponsoring my work and this post.

Colleen Doran Illustrates Neil Gaiman will be a solo exhibit at the Society of Illustrators in New York City this spring. Watch this space for updates.

Have a wonderful holiday season.

#neil gaiman #dark horse comics #king arthur #Sir Galahad #Comics #graphic novel #fantasy graphic novel #watercolor #pre raphaelite #pre raphaelism

[kippah-for-lemon]

A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO,

a neighborhood science teacher asked if I believed that the Genesis account of creation was true. I answered, yes. Great, he said. Would I like to speak to his class about my understanding of creation? This modern-day John Scopes thought he was inviting a modern-day William Jennings Bryan to reenact the classic duel.

However, I told the class that while I believed the Genesis account of creation to be true, I also believed the scientific theory of evolution to be true. My response was greeted by puzzlement on the part of twenty-five eighth graders and disappointment on the part of their teacher. I went on to explain that science is one of humanity's great truth traditions, and religion is another. The two have threatened each other since well before the theories of Charles Darwin were formulated. But they needn't be engaged in such a heated rivalry because their goals are so different.

Science can help us understand how the world was created, but it can't tell us why it was created. And religion has no business telling us how the world was created, but we desperately need it to help us under- stand why we're here.

Genesis doesn't discuss the survival of the fittest, but, as you well know, Darwin's scientific creation story does. That story's operativeprinciple of the survival of the fittest became known as Social Darwinism, which taught that only the truly gifted deserve to survive. It is unfortunate that this teaching has become an axiom of modern life. In contrast, our Jewish tradition has always taught that we are responsible for the survival of the least fit: the orphan, the poor, the lonely, and the stranger, to name just a few. And in Genesis 1:27 we are told that every single human being is divinely gifted and deserving of dignity. The opening of Genesis tells about the creation by God of a universe of harmony, balance, and beauty, formed from soupy chaos, tohu vavohu. It is the most profound story we know, and it reminds us why we are here. It sets forth our work, and our challenge. But is the story true?

Regretfully I must admit that the story is not true, or at least not yet. When will it be true? When we accept our responsibility as God's partners in creating the world described in Genesis.

-Rabbi Rick Jacobs (b. 1955)

An excerpt from my Temple's Rosh Hashanah prayer book. Under the cut is just a testimony from me but feel free to reblog for the quote alone.

It really stuck with me because I was raised Protestant. I even attended a private Christian (nondenominational) school for three years. Sixth through 8th grade (for non-Americans, I was the ages of 11-14 give or take).

I was taught that evolution wasn't real. I wrote an 8 page essay on why Charles Darwin was wrong and that The Bible was correct. Little did I know I actually did believe in evolution, and so did most of my peers as I reasoned that over a long time of adaptations maybe there could be a different species

I was shell shocked when I switched to a public high school (14 years old) and flat out told evolution was true (or well as true as a scientific theory can get). I lost my trust for authority, and I realized how damaging my education had been.

I'm AFAB, and so I was taught my responsibility was to be quiet and to please my husband. I often asked far too many questions, especially when it came to the teachings of the Bible, to the extent my own teachers, men and women who were supposed to nurture my curiosity and be my guide into the world, shunned me.

Starting my Jewish journey, I sobbed. I sobbed after the first service I went to. It's so different from what I had been through before. I'm so glad I'm allowed to ask questions and it's even encouraged. I'm glad the Torah is scrutinized and we are encouraged to study the book and even admit when G-d has done wrong.

My partner, knowing my past, pointed this specific excerpt out to me. I had to fight back tears. I feel so loved and welcomed in Judaism.

"...Jewish tradition has always taught that we are responsible for the survival of the least fit: the orphan, the poor, the lonely, and the stranger, to name just a few. And in Genesis 1:27 we are told that every single human being is divinely gifted and deserving of dignity."

#jumblr #jew #jewish #rosh hashanah #Rabbi Rick Jacobs #jewish tumblr #jew convert #jewish convert #jewish pride #jewish joy

[queenklu]

Seeing AI discourse about writing college papers reminded me of the time I got Called In To A Professor's Office over a paper I wrote that he thought was plagiarized.

See, the thing I had realized about myself by that point was that I am...VERY BAD....at reading the assigned books. I have every intention of doing so while in class, but the instant I'm out of class the book no longer exists (what adhd). So by the end of the year I would always wind up getting screwed over in the book buy-back with books I'd literally never cracked the spine on, because it turned out speed-reading sparknotes could get me through class discussion and I'd developed a System(TM) for panic-writing an essay the night before.

This system was: find an online pdf of the book. Skim. Read summaries. Pull quotes from pdf. Bullshit. Estimate the page number for any citations because no one actually checks those, and use the publication data from the syllabus for the works cited. This works Very Well if you are, like me, a sarcastic asshole who knows teachers want to read an entertaining essay instead of yet another regurgitation of whatever sounds academically "best."

So here's this history class, which actually turns out to be an english class in disguise, and we are told to read and write an essay on The First Autobiography Ever Written in the English Language, which just so happens to be about a lady who had FOURTEEN kids, suffered a psychotic break, and spent the rest of her life campaigning to become a saint.

It's called The Book of Margery Kempe. I cannot express to you how smug I am to find a pdf of the exact same copy we'd been told to buy, down to the same publishing house and year of publication. I won't even have to bullshit page numbers.

...It's written in Middle English.

Here begynnyth a schort tretys and a comfortabyl for synful wrecchys, wherin thei may have gret solas and comfort to hem and undyrstondyn the hy and unspecabyl mercy of ower sovereyn Savyowr Cryst Jhesu, whos name be worschepd and magnyfyed wythowten ende, that now in ower days to us unworthy deyneth to exercysen hys nobeley and hys goodnesse....

This is fine, College!me thinks. A little tedious, but clearly the entire class has successfully done the reading enough to talk about it, so it must be doable. They probably had discussions about the language and I forgot to pay attention.

So I write the essay, pulling quotes from this middle english pdf that I can only half read, but that I can certainly form opinions about. Is it my best essay? No. Is it snarky? Yes. Is it in MLA format? That's mostly what they'll be checking for.

Then the Professor pulls me aside after class and asks to speak with me in his office. I have another class that I have to go to, and because I'm commuting in to college I won't be back on campus until two days later; he says that's fine, and all of this is settled and we've parted ways before it hits me how fucking fucked I am.

It must be the book.

He's going to call me out on not buying the book.

Can he tell I didn't read the book?

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

And I have two days to stew in it.

By the time our meeting rolls around I am a Mess. He is going to fail me. I am going to die. If I open my mouth at all I will burst into tears. Perhaps there is the slimmest chance if I act Normal this will be fine??????

P: So I read your essay...

Me: *using my Normal face* ⊙.☉

P: ...and I'm just wondering...

Me: ⊙.☉'

P: ...where you got the quotes?

Me: ⊙.☉'''

P: .....because the version of the book we read....isn't in Middle English.

Me: ⊙.☉??????????

P: I actually thought you might have plagiarized it--

Me: ⊙.☉!!!!!!!

P:--but to be honest it's written so entirely in your style that it's impossible this essay is plagiarized.

Me: ........⊙.☉.....

P: .... Anyway.

P: Just wanted to chat.

P: Uh. You're free to go.

Me:

HERE'S THE LESSONS LEARNED:

Just buy the book Cite the pdf. The professors Do Not Care how you've read the book as long as they can plausibly believe you've read it.

Just read the book Listen. I wasn't going to get anywhere near an ADHD diagnosis until my 30s. And if they can't tell you didn't read the book, then is it really the same as not reading the book? I think Margery would agree you gotta make some shit up to get anywhere in life.

Being a sarcastic asshole in my academic papers saved me from a plagiarism charge.

#back to the AI thing: learning how to bullshit is a skill #it is a needed. NECESSARY. SKILL. #if the computer does it for you then you will learn nothing. #yes it sucks. yes it's bullshit. do it anyway.

[yaasirambles]

HeartRacer- Lee Jeno NCT

I wrote this a while ago for @jammingjaem and I decided to edit it and post it as a y/n piece!

Word Count: 2,687

Warnings: Mentions of illegal activities (street racing) and mentions of Consumption of Alcohol

Plot: In which you're Jeno's friend and he races with his motorcycle. He invites you out one night to come watch his race.

Racer!AU, SFW :) Cute lil thing

“Annndd done! Thank God. This essay was gonna be the death of me,” You say to yourself. You clicked the SUBMIT button and closed your laptop. You throw your head back on the chair. Closing your eyes and spinning slowly. 

*clink* 

You open one eye. Nothing around. You shrug your shoulders and close your eyes. Letting out a deep breath. 

*clink*---*clink*--- *clink**clink**clink*

You jump out of the chair and pull up your window, leaning out and looking down, scanning around the dark yard. Then, you see the cause of your disturbance. 

“UGH, YOU!” You shout in frustration

“Gee, nice to see you too.” Jeno rolls his eyes

“What do you want, Jeno?” 

“I’m coming up. Move back” 

“What? No, don’t you dare-” You back up. You hear him run, and his feet land on the wall as he climbs up the wall, the lattice screen on it helping him get a grip as he climbs, probably ruining the flowery vines on the way up. You saw his fingers at the edge of the window sill. He pulls himself up and jumps into your room, standing right in front of you. Barely an inch between you two. His face looked down on you. Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart flutters a bit. You back up and clear your throat. 

“I wanted to see if you’ll come to my race tonight. Please, please, please.”

“No, Jeno. I already told you. I just spent 4 hours on this essay, and my brain is burnt out.”

“Aha, see, I knew that might be the case. So I got you iced coffee, and it’s waiting for you. Chenle has it downstairs.” He looks at you with those stupid puppy eyes. 

“Uggghhh. Fine. But I’m going in the car. Not on that death trap you call a motorcycle.”

“Fine, fine. As long as you’re coming. Oh, there’s also gonna be a kickback/party type thing after, and we’re going to that too. It’s Friday, so I know you can’t use school as an excuse not to go.”

“Ok, whatever. Well, I need to change then in that case.” you sigh, walking to your closet. You didn’t hear anything, so you turned around. Jeno is staring at you, leaning against your desk. Arms crossed. “Ummm”

“What?” he raises an eyebrow at you.

“LEAVE. I’m not gonna change in front of you.” 

“Why? Scared we’ll end up kissing or something.” He smirks

“AGGHH, LEE JENO!” You throw a shirt at him. 

He throws his hands up in the air defensively. “I’m kiddiiing. I’ll be at the meet. Renjun and the other dreamies are waiting in the car downstairs. See ya there, my lucky girl.” He hops out of the window. 

You roll your eyes and rummage through your closet. You were slightly panicking because you wanted to look good. Not for him. Pfft nevvveerrrr. Okay, maybe just a little….whatever. You decide on a pair of ripped black jeans, gray vans, a red crop top that says “CHERRY BOMB.” and a light wash jean jacket. You rush down the stairs and hop in the back seat of Renjun's car.

“Where’s my coffee?” you demand, holding your hand out.

“Right here, Ma’am.” Chenle hands you the cup, and you take a long drink from the straw. 

“Ok, let’s go, kids,” you say. Renjun nods.

You end up on some long, empty streets. A crowd bustling in the middle. You thought it’d be smaller. It was a street race, after all. Kinda illegal… Not at all, somewhere you would be regularly. You walk with the dreamies, following them, trying to find your group. You’re a huge group, yet you always manage to lose each other. You spot your best friend and her Boyfriend, Jaehyun. They’re the couple of the group, and they've been together for two years. She’s in black jean shorts, fishnets, A black bralette, and boots. Jaehyun in black jeans, vans, a white t-shirt with rolled-up sleeves, one arm around her, the other hanging onto his Jean jacket slung over his shoulder. They are a power couple. You think to yourself, I wonder if Jeno and I could be like that...nope, no, ma’am. No interest in that hooligan. Cute, stupid, reckless-

“Y/N. YOU’RE HERE, YESSS!” someone shouts, snapping you out of your head. Your best friend was running to you. “I’m so glad you came! How’d he convince you?” she pulled you in for a hug.

“Bribery of the highest degree,” you say and point to the iced coffee. “I can’t resist free coffee.”

“Of course,” she laughs. “Well, c’mon. Everyone is further down. We’re all at the start line, so we can see Jeno come in first.” she grabs your hand and leads you to the rest of your group. Everyone comes walking towards you to say Hi. Johnny picked you up and squeezed you. You go through the round of hugs and cheek kisses as greetings.

You look around the area. Motorcycles are placed in the middle of the street, behind the start/finish line. Their riders hanging around, talking to people. You spot Jeno talking to some girl. A really pretty girl… Your heart drops a little as you see him smile at her. It's probably his secret girlfriend or something. He catches you, and his eyes light up. He jogs towards you, and the girl follows. He looks so good in that stupid race jacket. 

“Hey! Wow, you look… great,” he breathes out, staring you up and down. “Oh, um, this is my friend. She and Her girlfriend are race girls. You know, the one who waves the flags for us to go.”

“Ohh! That’s cool!  It’s nice to meet you! I’m Y/N,” You say

“I’m Min! So nice to meet you.” She pulls you in for a hug. “It’s almost time to start! I’ll see you at the party?” 

You nod, and she smiles and runs off to gather the riders at the start line. 

“You’re gonna be in the front, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course. It’s where the rest are. so you know..” You respond, playing with the hem of your shirt awkwardly 

“Awesome, cool, cool, cool. Um, well, I better get in position. Kiss my key?”

“Your key??” You raise an eyebrow at him 

“Yea. You know, for good luck. Please?” he holds it out. 

You roll your eyes and kiss the blade of the key. He smiles widely and runs off to his Motorcycle. Your heart flutters again…

You walk over to the front of the sidelines where your friends are. Jeno and another rider are the first, with four others behind them. Engines were revving up, and people were cheering for their chosen rider. You wave to him, and he waves back with a gloved hand. How the hell does he look so handsome with a helmet on?? You can’t even see his face, but you know he looks good. Ugh. 

“Are we ready racers?” Min shouts

“On our count!” her girlfriend shouts. 

“One!” Min raises her flags.

“Two.” Her girlfriend's flags go up as well.

“Three!!” the engines revving loudly. 

“GO!” they both scream, waving the flags down and kneeling as the bikes fly past them. You run into the street along with many others to see the bikes take off. Some people chase after them. The crowd moves back to the sides as the racers come back to finish the first lap—two more to go. Jeno is the 3rd to come in this lap. You bite your lip, praying he wins. The last lap comes around, and you peer out, waiting impatiently. You see his bike leading, and he burns through the finish line. Your group screams in victory, and he starts doing donuts in the street as the other racers trail behind. You run to his bike, and he hops off, pulling off his helmet, hugging you, picking you up, and spinning you. 

“See! I told you, my lucky charm.” He grins ear to ear. His eyes sparkled, and his chest rose and fell heavily. 

“I would have been so mad if I came and missed out on sleep just to see you lose” You rolled your eyes. Your heart flutters secretly. 

“Hey, you guys ready to head to the party?” YangYang says, walking up to you. 

“Yea. We’ll see you there.” Jeno said, taking your hand. “C’mon.”

“Uhhhh. I’m going with Dreamies,” You said, raising an eyebrow.

“Uhhhh no, you’re not. Ride with me. Please? I just won the race, and you saw I’m a safe driver, pleeeasssseee” He begged, again with stupid puppy eyes. 

“Fine. If I die, I’m killing you.” You huff and let him lead you to his motorcycle. 

He takes an extra helmet out and places it on your head. Smiling at you. He climbs on, and you get behind him. Your hands grip his shirt tightly. Too scared to wrap your arms around his waist. He revs the engine loudly, and you roll your eyes. What a show-off. Suddenly, the bike jerks forward, and your arms wrap tightly around him in fear of falling off. You can feel him laugh lightly.

“You did that on purpose, so I’d hug you like this,” you grumbled. 

“Maybe. Maybe not. Prove it.” He chuckles. You roll your eyes again, and he takes off. You keep your eyes closed the entire time. Too afraid to open them. The sound of you guys whipping past cars and the loud wind was already terrifying. You didn’t want to see the flying lights just yet. 

We arrived at a huge white house. It's seriously huge—pillars at the front porch. Magnificent garden. Different colored lights on the lawn, music blaring out the front door. You grabbed Jeno’s arm tightly, and he patted your hand. 

“Is this too much?” He asked, concerned

“No. No, it’s okay. I should be fine.” You smiled at him.

He nodded, and you walked inside. He was being greeted by people who knew him, congratulating him on his win at the race. 

“Ah, it was all thanks to my Lucky Charm here.” He says to the people,  smiling at you.

You continued to walk through the house, trying to find your group.

“Who’s house is this?” you asked. 

“Mins. Her parents left her everything since she has no siblings.”

“Oh. Is it just her alone here? It must be hard for her.”

“No, her girlfriend lives here. And she rents out the rooms to people for cheap. Mostly college students since the university is close by. Or for free if there’s a family or individuals who need help for a bit.” 

“Her parents are probably super proud of her for that. Wow.” you sighed.

“Hey!! Glad you got here in one piece.” Min came running up to you, hugging you both. “There’s tons of food in the kitchen, so please help yourself with anything you want. There are drinks too. Pool in the back as well if you wanna swim.” 

“OH, FOOD, thank god!” Jeno exclaimed. Throwing his head back. “Okay, we will be in the kitchen. Thanks, Min!” He started pulling you away, so you waved goodbye to her as she laughed. 

Mark was in the kitchen as well. He was getting pizza and a drink. 

“Hey, y/n. Do you want a drink?” He asks, “There's some jungle juice in here.”

“What’s that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Like just a bunch of alcohol and juice or soda mixed. There's also Soju Lemonade.” 

“Soju Lemonade, please,” you say, and he nods and fills up a red solo cup with the drink. 

Jeno looks at you questioningly. “I didn’t know you drank.”

“Sometimes. Not often.” you sip on the lemonade. It was refreshing

“Hmm, hiding a wild side from me?” 

“Find out,” you smirk. The alcohol was making you a little brave already.

“Sheesh. I might” 

You walked out to the back, finding the rest of your group playing beer pong against each other. You watched and finished the rest of your drink by the time they were done with the game. 

“Wanna play next round?” Johnny asks you.

“I’ve never played before..” you say shyly.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be your partner,” your best friend says. “We can play against Jaehyun and Jeno.” 

“Oooooo, Boyfriends vs. girlfriends, I like that!” Johnny exclaims, 

“Jeno is not my boyfr-” you start to say before someone hands a ping pong ball to you. 

“Ladies first,” Jaehyun says, smirking at your best friend.

“You guys are going down,” She laughs. 

The game was competitive. A small crowd gathered around to watch. Unfortunately, you did have to drink as many cups as you made them drink due to making the ball in the cup. It was down to the last cup on both sides—your turn. If you miss, you lose. You concentrated on the opening and threw the ball. It landed, and the boys hung their heads in defeat. The crowd cheered, and you and your best friend high-fived and hugged. 

“I will request my prize later tonight,” She said to Jae, kissing him on the cheek. 

“And what do you want for yours,” jeno asked, looking at you. “A kiss?” 

“No. You can buy me coffee for a month,” you smiled. Chance at free coffee for a month. Imma take it. Hhehehe

“Fine,” He huffed. “Sure you don’t want a kiss with that?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

You walk back into the house. You realize how much you drank and start to feel a little tired. You sit down on the couch, and Jeno follows. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

“I think I had a bit too much. But I'm okay.”

Then Haechan comes up and slumps down next to you, trying to give you another drink. Jeno shoots him a glare and takes the drink. 

“Don’t. No more for her tonight” He says, concern and sternness in his voice. Haechan nods and says sorry. Your heart fluttered again at Jeno’s words. 

Jisung walks up to you. 

“Do you need anything? A blanket? Food? Is it too loud? You can have your earbuds to listen to your playlist,” He says. What a caring boy. 

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, JiJi.” you smile at him. 

You spend the rest of the time watching your friends, talking and Laughing. Enjoying being with them. 

“How are you feeling? Ready to go home?”

Jeno asks, patting your head.

“Mm. Yea. I think I’m sobered up enough. Let’s go,” you say, standing up. 

You say goodbye to everyone, and you hop back on his bike. Your arms around him comfortably. This time, you keep your eyes open. The lights look pretty as you speed by. You look up and see the stars and the moon moving with you. It’s mesmerizing. You arrive at your house. He holds his hand out to help you off. He takes off your helmet and walks you to the front door. 

“Did you have fun?” He asks,

“I did, actually. A lot of fun. Thank you for inviting me.” You said,

“Thank you for coming. And supporting me. It means a lot to me.” He leans in and kisses your forehead.

Maybe it was the last bit of alcohol giving you courage, or maybe you were finally not overthinking things. But you kissed his lips without thinking. He froze a little. Surprised. Then his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to his body, and the kiss deepened a little. His lips were soft. You pulled away. His face was full of shock.

“What was that for?” He asked.

“Part of your prize for winning the race. And you know, good luck for your drive home,” you said, trying to seem casual while your heart was beating up and out of your throat. 

“Ahh. Thank you. I hope I get those often.” He smiled.

“Maybe. You’ll have to find out. I’ll be expecting you with my coffee tomorrow.” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

you smiled and unlocked your front door. He doesn’t leave until you close it behind yourself. Maybe you’ll think less and just let things happen…

#nct #kpop #nct dream #nct imagines #fiction #nct scenarios #nct jeno #leejeno #lee jeno #nctau #nct fanfic #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #jeno #jeno lee #jeno au

[trashmoutth]

When I see you again (Fred Weasley x Reader)

PARTS 1. 2. female!reader, Gryffindor!reader Summary: It takes place during the Second Wizarding War, months after Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Reader is on the run after her family has been caught by the Snatchers. Loosely following cannon. Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader (mentioned) Characters: Dean Thomas, Fred Weasley (mentioned),George Weasley (mentioned), Ted Tonks (mentioned), Dirk Cresswell (mentioned) Warnings: war, mentions of death, angst, swearing, english is not my first language so there might be grammatical mistakes, capital letters, etc.

—

During the next couple of days there was a strange feeling of excitement in the air. For the first time in a while, you felt like there was something to hope for, like you had a goal. The sudden burst of adrenaline in your veins had you wandering around this old house of yours all day and all night. It was driving Dean crazy, but you didn’t care. He showed you how to replay old PotterWatch recordings, so you had them playing in the background through the day while searching through your grandma’s old books in hopes of finding something helpful.

Dean was being as supportive as he could’ve been, considering he was also aching to get in touch with his parents and sisters, however, he was reluctant to get his hopes up. You didn’t have the same problem. It wasn’t a choice for you.

“I’d tell her that her family is alive and well and desperate for news of her whereabouts. As are quite frankly, all of us here at the PotterWatch”.

When you weren’t replaying the recording, you were replaying those words in your head.

You had to find a way.

There was another resident in the house who didn’t seem to be too keen on contacting the wizarding world. A goblin named Ricbert. He was badly injured and spent most of the time resting. You couldn’t blame him for not wanting to risk exposure, not after Dean has told you everything they had to go through to get to a safe house. They were travelling with Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell and another goblin named Gornuk. They crossed miles and miles being actively hunted by the Snatchers and Death Eaters. Gornuk has split himself while apparating in a hurry and got captured. Dirk went after him while urging the others to run away, but Ted Tonks would not leave anyone behind. Unfortunately, that resulted in Dean and Ricbert having to fend for themselves.

Listening to that story made you shiver. But if anything, it made you even more determined to stop running and hiding. It wasn’t even just about seeing your family and friends again. It wasn’t just about Fred either. People were fighting for their lives! You couldn’t stay put! You had to do something!

When you weren’t practicing defensive spells, you spent your time obsessively collecting herbs and brewing healing remedies for Ricbert. It made you feel a bit better, being useful to someone. You were trying out all kinds of recipes you thought might come in handy.

You made a batch of Polyjuice Potion, Cure for boils, Antidote to Common Poisons, Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. You even tried to make Felix Felicis, but the ingredients for it were way too hard to find even in regular circumstances.

You were brewing so much that Dean eventually had to take you by the hand and force you to sit down and take a break.

“If Snape could see me now!”, you said with a tired smile.

Dean chuckled.

“He’d probably put you in detention for working too hard”.

“Ah, yes! Did you know he actually did do that to me once?”

“What, really?”

“Yeah… I wrote an essay in my third year that was accidentally a little too good. He accused me of using a magical quill and put me in detention”, you rolled your eyes.

“Blimey, what a git!”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, I’ve never tried to work too hard on my homework again!”, you laughed.

It was nice talking to Dean, the two of you became fast friends during your stay in the house. You gave each other space through the day, but in the evenings, you would sit down and enjoy each other’s company. Just like you were back in the Gryffindor common room, chatting about muggle films and sports. You found your grandparents’ stash of Firewhiskey and Nettlewine, so you’d light the fireplace and open a bottle. Ricbert also joined you on occasion.

You tried not to talk too much about PotterWatch, even though that was all you wanted to talk about, and tried avoiding mentioning Fred and George’s name completely. At least until you’ve figured out the way to find them. On the first night, you and Dean went through all the options of how to get in touch with someone from your world. Floo powder was out of question. So was sending and owl, obviously. Most importantly, even if you did find a way to send anyone a message, you wouldn’t know where to send it. Apparating to any location was an unnecessary risk, especially now that you seemed to be perfectly safe and sound for the first time in months. Not to mention the fact that you didn’t want to put Ricbert in danger just because, as he so delicately put one evening,

“You heard your boyfriend mention your name on a radio two weeks ago”.

The word “boyfriend” stupidly made your heart flutter. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, true, but you didn’t correct him. Dean didn’t question it either at the time. However, that evening, after a few glasses of Nettlewine, his curiosity got the best of him.

“So…”, he started, “You and Weasley, eh?”

“Huh?”

“You and Fred Weasley? You’re like… an item, right?”

“What makes you say that?”, you feigned surprise.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked at you.

“Oh, please!”

“No! We are just friends”, you tried to protest, but a small smile escaped your lips and betrayed you.

“Sure you are!”, Dean chuckled, “I also fall asleep every night while listening to recordings of my friend’s voices on the radio”.

“Well maybe you should, it’s very calming”, you teased.

“Besides”, you continued, “How do you know it’s not Georgie I’m listening for?”

“Oh”, he laughed, “You’re right, my apologies”.

“Why do you think they call him Tentacula?”.

He snorted and threw a pillow at you.

“Don’t put images in my head!”

“Well, you’re the one who started this conversation!”, you threw the pillow back at him.

He groaned.

“I was just being nosy, I didn’t want the details!”

“Curiosity killed the hippogriff!”

“Also…”, Dean continued, “Ginny mentioned something to me back when we were dating…”

Your heart jumped in your chest.

“About what?”, you asked as calmly as possible.

“You know… about you and Weasley… Fred, I mean”.

“What did she say?”

Dean looked at you sternly as if what he was about to say is very serious indeed, but then his face stretched into a wide grin, and he burst out laughing.

“Nothing! I just wanted to see your reaction!”

You groaned.

“Oi, Thomas, that was really low!”

“Sorry, better work on your poker face Y/LN!”, he teased you.

You rolled your eyes.

“Well, it’s not like it matters anyway. I mean… who knows if I’ll ever see him again”, your voice suddenly turned sad.

Dean’s expression softened.

“You’ll see him”, he said.

You looked at him with teary eyes and gently smiled with gratitude.

“You think so?”, you asked quietly, before you could stop yourself.

“Yes”, he replied, “We’ll find a way. But then you have to do it”.

“Do what?”

“Shoot your shot”, he said and threw a pillow at you again.

...

You’ve spent the next couple of days trying to figure out how to bring up your newest plan of sending a message to Fred and George. It seemed like a good plan; the only problem was the fact that you had no idea how to execute it.

“Dean…”, you started one afternoon.

“Yes?”, he asked.

“I’ve figured it out”, you said slowly.

“You have?”, he jumped in excitement.

“Yes… sort of”.

“What does that mean?”

“Well…”, you started, “There might be a way to send someone a message without having to know exactly where they are, I think… but it requires a really powerful witch or wizard to do so”.

“I’m not worried about that part!”, he winked at you.

You laughed bitterly.

“I don’t know, mate. I’ve never been able to do it before… that’s why I didn’t bring it up until now”.

“What is it?”, his voice suddenly got a bit more serious.

You took a deep breath.

“The thing is… you can send someone a message using the Patronus charm”.

“You can?”, he asked in a surprise.

“Yes”, you replied, “I’ve seen it”.

The image of a silver, gleaming lynx with a voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt suddenly entered your mind.

“Well, that’s… good news, right?”, Dean asked.

You sighed.

“Yes… and no”.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’ve never been able to produce a corporal Patronus before… and even if I did it, I have no idea how to get it to send someone a message!”, you said, with slight frustration in your voice.

“Oh…”, Dean said.

“Can you produce it?”

He shook his head.

“No… never been able to”.

“Well… that’s why I didn’t say anything until now… but it seems like it might be the only option we have left”.

He looked at you in disbelief.

“What kind of option is that? We’d have to become able to produce a corporal Patronus, and then we’d also have to somehow figure out a way to make it reach someone else for us… it would take us weeks, months, maybe even years!”

“You have somewhere to be?”, you asked sarcastically.

He sighed.

“No…”

“Well, then… unless you can come up with a better plan, I suggest you roll up your sleeves and start practicing the charm!”, you said in a tone of voice that reminded you a bit of Professor McGonagall.

A similar thought has clearly crossed Dean’s mind, because he smirked at you and said,

“Yes, professor!”

You softened your expression and smiled at him.

The following couple of days were spent by your useless attempts to preform the Patronus charm. When you weren’t whispering, mumbling, or screaming:

“Expecto Patronum!”

you were cooped up in your room, reading your grandmas old books, trying to find anything at all about the Patronus charm. It was hopeless.

To be fair, you managed to produce a glowing, silver shield that danced around the room, but there was no sign of fur, tail, claws, hooves, or anything like that. It was driving you mad, which, obviously, wasn’t helpful while trying to focus on your happiest memories.

One evening, as you were lying in your bed and rewinding old recordings of PotterWatch, a shocking realisation suddenly hit you.

Of course you would not be able to create a Patronus, you didn’t have a memory that was strong enough! All your happiest thoughts were somehow tainted by the fact that you were here, locked inside a safe house, completely isolated from the people that you loved the most. But if you could do it… If you could be strong enough to perform the spell…

You didn’t have a happiest memory because all of them were set in the future! And you held the power to make them into reality!

It was a paradoxical thought, but the realisation made your heart fill up with hope, and perhaps, that could be enough to summon a Patronus!

You jumped out of the bed, in a sudden rush of adrenaline, and raised your wand.

You closed your eyes.

What would make you happy? What is the happiest thing you can think of at this very moment?

An image of your parents glimmered in your mind. They were smiling at you while embracing you into a tight hug.

Then another image appeared. Your friends! George Weasley gifting you one of his infectious smiles and congratulating you on a spell well-done! Lee Jordan, shaking your hand and kissing your cheeks.

A small grin appeared on your lips.

It was working!

Then, you saw his face. Fred.

His flaming red locks and glistening eyes. He reached his hands towards you and pulled you in his arms. You knew his scent all too well. He smelled of cinnamon and fireworks. He didn’t say anything to you, and you didn’t say anything to him. You just stood there, embracing. No words were needed.

You felt your heart swell up as happy tears started to fill your eyes. You took a deep breath.

You were almost there!

You raised your wand higher and pictured yourself as exactly the person you wanted to be in this very moment. You were strong enough to summon a Patronus. You were clever enough to reach your friends. You were brave enough to protect Ricbert and Dean. You could do it! You just had to believe in it!

“Excpecto Patronum”, you whispered.

A beam of silver light shot out of your wand. It seemed to be forming into a shape.

Was that a claw? Or maybe antlers?

The beautiful silver light blazing from your wand gave you more confidence, so you repeated, this time more loudly and more clearly,

“Excpecto Patronum!”

This time the light started to form into a shape a lot more distinctively. You watched in an awe as you tried to figure out what animal in reminded you of, still focusing hard on your happy thoughts.

The silver light fell apart once again, but you didn’t get discouraged. You were certain this time you’d do it. You took a deep breath and pictured Fred’s smiling face. His eyes. His voice. His laughter… You’ll see him again! You will! You were so close…

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”, you yelled out.

The light shooting out of your wand was almost blinding this time. You squinted as you watched it prance around the room, forming into a shape of a beautiful, silvery creature. After it made a circle around the room it stopped right in front of you, looking at you with its intelligent, glowing eyes. You gasped in awe and reached for it to touch it. You recognized it instantly.

It was a (your Patronus).

You did it!

The realisation made a surge of euphoric sensation shoot through your body.

You fucking did it!

You started laughing. You wanted to call for Dean, but you were worried the animal would disappear if you did that. So, instead, you just stood there, trying to get your brain to start working again. As soon as it did, another thought has crossed your mind.

What now?

That’s right! Summoning a Patronus was only a part of the problem. As happy as you were to have succeeded, you still didn’t know how to fulfil the other part.

What if I just… ask?

it was a silly thought. And yet…

It couldn’t hurt!

You struggled for a moment to find your voice. Your Patronus was still looking at you. It seemed like it already knew what you were about to do.

“Can you… help me?”, you heard yourself say stupidly.

The Patronus blinked.

“I need to send a message… to Fred Weasley. He’s… my best friend. Perhaps you already know that…?”

The animal didn’t move or react in any way that would make it seem like it understood you. You groaned in frustration.

“Well, it was worth a shot”, you mumbled.

The frustration in your voice made the Patronus start to slowly fade out. It made you panic for a moment, but then you let it go.

If you could summon it once, you can do it again!

However, the Patronus didn’t disappear, you realized a second later. Instead, it turned itself into a tiny, floating ball of light that began slowly approaching you. Just when you thought it was about to stop, it went straight inside your neck and nested itself at the bottom of your throat.

“What the…”, you spoke in a surprise.

And then you froze in shock. You could hear your own voice, just like it was magically enhanced by Sonorous. However, you had a strange feeling that if anyone else was around you, they would only see you open your mouth and silently move it like a fish.

“Did I… do it?”, you asked.

You were still hearing your own voice inside your head. That must be it! It must be working!

“Fred…”, you started, “If you can hear me… if this reaches you somehow… I’m safe. I’m in a safe location. I can’t tell you exactly where it is, it’s heavily protected…”.

You thought for a moment about what you should and shouldn’t say. You didn’t want to compromise anyone’s safety if this message was heard by someone else.

“If you can reach my parents, would you tell them I’m okay?”, you asked.

There were so many things that you dreamt about saying to him if you got the chance, and now… it felt like there was nothing on your mind.

“Oh, I’m with Dean Thomas!”, you remembered suddenly, “He’s safe too… we’re with a goblin named Ricbert… Fred…”.

You took a deep breath.

“If you can… try to find me… please”.

Just when you started thinking about how silly that sounded, the ball of light nested in your throat flew out. It reached the middle of the room and slowly transformed back into its corporal form. The beautiful, shimmering animal stood before you once again, only this time there was a little ball of light flickering in its neck. You realised, in amazement, that that was your voice.

“Find Fred Weasley… please”, you said pleadingly.

The Patronus blinked at you once again, like it perfectly understood the assignment you just gave it, and slowly began to fade out.

For a second or two you did not move. You were still a bit unsure that what you just saw really happened. You wanted to call Dean and tell him all about it, but before you could do that, you felt yourself slowly sinking into bed. You were exhausted.

You didn’t know for sure how long you slept. Was it five hours or five minutes. You only knew that in one moment your eyes were shut and you were sleeping, and in another something in the room has made you groan out in frustration.

Did somebody turn on the light?

“Turn… it… off…”, you mumbled as you tried to cover your closed eyes with a pillow.

But it felt like the light was burning through the pillowcase. You threw the pillow away and sat up straight, like someone had just pinched you.

Your eyes widened in shock. Something was in the room with you. Through the haze of sleepiness, it looked like another glowing ball of light, only this ball was a lot larger than the one you had summoned. It made a few circles around the room before it finally settled and landed at the top of the pillow you just threw away. It was a bird. A magpie. A glowing, silvery magpie! It was spreading its shimmering wings and looking at you like it wanted your undivided attention.

Another Patronus, you realised.

Your mouth had gone dry from suspense. Then, the bird opened its silver beak and spoke in the voice of Fred Weasley,

“Y/N? Is that really you?”

Your heart stopped.

—

#hp #hp imagine #hp fic #hp x reader #hp x y/n #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x y/n #fred weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #dean thomas #dean thomas x reader #dean thomas x y/n #ted tonks #gryffindor #gryffindor!reader

[moonshinemagpie]

Colson Whitehead on Making Novels Half-Asleep

I deleted my Substack because, you know, its founders are evil. But this post I wrote last October feels relevant for writers going into the New Year. If it's TLDR, skip down to the "What Meant Everything to Me" heading.

Writing with Chronic Fatigue

I went to the Brooklyn Book Festival last weekend! It was pure magic after so many years of being away from the English-speaking book world. I felt like someone on rations finally allowed to eat my fill, gulping down book panels and author talks.

Colson Whitehead Goes to Church

One of my favorite festival events was a talk with Colson Whitehead in the St. Ann and the Holy Trinity Church. I’m a big fan of hosting cultural events in places of worship.

Colson Whitehead imparted insights that felt like gospel for writers. For those unfamiliar, Whitehead has published nine novels, two nonfiction books, and won two Pulitzer prizes. His book The Underground Railroad is one of my favorites of all time. 

But I did not always like Whitehead’s work. I first had to read his 2003 essay collection The Colossus of New York in university, and it struck me as self-obsessed, MFA-brand New York nonsense. Like, he romanticized Port Authority, the dirty hellhole bus station where, in 2003, I was an elementary schooler waiting nervously for buses that were always late while getting continuously harassed by grown-man casino gamblers dressed like lumberjacks.

I really hated Whitehead’s cheery romanticizations. I wouldn’t pick up another Whitehead book until 2017.

(^just an HD image of Colson Whitehead)

Add Whitehead to the list of authors who wrote some of my most detested 1-star reads before they published the 5-star books of my heart: NK Jemisin, Maggie Stiefvater, Jeff Vandermeer, Colson Whitehead—almost all of my favorite contemporary writers put out messy, uncompelling books before they entered the realm of the virtuoso. 

“I wrote a book called The Intuitionist,” Whitehead said at the church, referring to his debut, “and everyone hated it. So I thought, ‘Okay, I need to do better next time.’”*

It was surreal to hear a writer speak with such open eyes about the trajectory of their own career. Like, I knew I hated Whitehead’s early work. I didn’t realize that he knew it, too.

(It’s worth mentioning that someone who came up to ask Whitehead a question during the Q&A said, “The Intuitionist is my favorite book of all time.”)

But that wasn’t the insight that meant the most to me.

Nothing Is a Joke

Whitehead made joke after joke about chronic fatigue. He never used the words “chronic fatigue”; he never referred to his own health. But he repeatedly described scenarios that resonated with me as someone who lives with fatigue and hypersomnia:

“I spend most of my day just sleeping,” he said. “I mean, coming out here [to the book event]? Really big deal for me. Glad I could make it.”

And everyone laughed, but I don’t think that’s the kind of joke you make unless you mean it. I don’t think it would even dawn on a non-fatigued individual to make it.

What Meant Everything to Me

When Whitehead described his writing process, he said he writes about eight pages a week.

Eight pages a week.

Estimating 250 words/page, that’s 2,000 words per week. Or as he said, “32 pages per month, 320 pages after ten months. I find it adds up.”

He writes, he said, about three days each week. So that’s a little over 600 words each time he sits down to write.

To put this into perspective: If I write fewer than 2,000 words in a single writing session, I don’t consider it to have been a proper session. In less than a month, hundreds of thousands of people will join in NaNoWriMo and try to write at least 1,666 words every day for a month straight.

We live in a world where writers are encouraged to crank it way, way up, sacrificing what writing actually is in an attempt to maximize monetization of a craft that is not easily monetized. Romance writers give advice online for how to write just one draft of a book, no revision needed. Self-publishing writers crank out novella after novella to feed to the Kindle Unlimited machine. Everyone wants to be done with their book in a month. Memes proliferate in which writers scold themselves for daydreaming, plotting, outlining—for doing anything at all that isn’t literal putting words to the page, as if those other things weren’t integral to novel-making.

I thought I was immune to that hustle-and-grind mindset, because I know what writing a book actually entails for me and I have no intention of cranking out a first-draft story for KDP. 

But I had never once considered giving myself the patient grace that Colson Whitehead shows himself.

“I don’t push myself,” he said. “Writing is hard work. On days when I’m not up to it, I revise instead. Just tinker with my last paragraphs.”

He joked about how, during the pandemic, he had to write his novels while his young son was at home. Whitehead said he usually writes a paragraph or two, and then sleeps for a few hours.

Daddy, why are you always in the dark? his son asked during the lockdown.

It’s part of my process! he joked. But I think he also meant it. 

Novel Advice

He’s not the first writer to give this advice; this isn’t the first time I’ve heard it. Maggie Stiefvater wrote her first book only on Wednesday evenings, raising her children and working the rest of the time. Terry Pratchett wrote 400 words each day before he became a full-time writer.

But these are stories of pre-success, the ways we need to struggle when our creative lives are stuffed into the spare corners of our weeks. And when your week doesn’t have spare corners because you’re barely trudging on as it is, that advice doesn’t feel encouraging.

But Colson Whitehead is already successful. And this is still how he allots his writing time: In low-pressure, long-term, sustainable accumulations. 

2,000 words a week.

I’ve known for a long time that I can no longer wait for healthy, clearheaded days to write. I don’t have them anymore. But it sort of sounds like Colson Whitehead doesn’t have many of them to spare, either, and yet he wrote the most energetic Harlem heist book I could ever want (Harlem Shuffle). He wrote the most literary zombie apocalypse book imaginable (Zone One). He has an oeuvre that brought enough readers to fill church pews, the line to see him wrapping all around the block. And he built this work, according to him, in between long naps.

In fact, his writing style probably hinges on his method. He’d be writing very different kinds of books if he wrote quickly. His just-a-few-paragraphs-a-day approach*** is probably how he writes descriptions with so many precise details, like these images of a party-supply store after the apocalypse hits:

The unit had completed a sweep of a party-supply store, a narrow nook on Reade that had been washed off Broadway into a low-rent eddy. Dusty costumes hung from the ceiling as if on meat hooks: cowboys and robots from chart-busting sci-fi trilogies, ethnically obscure kiddie-show mascots, jungle beasts with long tails intended for the flirty tickling of faces. Kingdoms’ worth of princesses and their plastic accoutrements, stamped out on the royal assembly line, and the requisite Naughty Nurse suspended in the dead air, tilting in her rounds. Do Not Expose to Open Flame. For Amusement Only. The masks had been made in Korea, delivering back to the West the faces they had given the rest of the globe: presidents, screen stars, and mass murderers. The rubber filament inevitably snapped from the staple after five minutes. The graft wouldn’t take.

I used to imagine Colson Whitehead as just being so impossibly brilliant that he spit this stuff out on the fly, leagues beyond the rest of us mere mortals. Now I see it differently: It happened laboriously, made by a tired, human brain full of faith in its own accumulative productivity.

Going Forward

No more for me, I think, of harsh deadlines and crank-it-out word counts. Instead: I need to provide accommodations for my own writing life. I must consciously factor in my own fatigue and stop demanding that I strain myself in ways unsustainable for a long and fulfilling creative life. Instead: Crank it down. Way down. And take naps between the paragraphs.

2,000 words a week.

Thanks, Colson Whitehead, for being honest about the work. We need more of that in the book world.

----

*None of these quotes are verbatim, just based on memory.

**This is similar to how both Donna Tartt and Nabokov have described their own writing processes. Maybe we spend so much time screaming at new writers to “just write” that we don’t talk about how slowness and care may enhance the quality of our prose.

#writeblr #writing community #colson whitehead #writing advice #draftdash

[evertidings]

— APRIL 2023.

accomplishments.

i’ll be honest—i have no idea what happened this month. it always happens at this time of year. school work, assignments, essays piling up... it’s a miracle that i didn’t start writing about yellow fever and polio in chapter nine. so, what did i do exactly? i wrote double what i did last month and yet, it’s all fuzzy. here is what i know: i’m currently chipping away at two scenes in chapter nine. the two final scenes. granted, they’re very big scenes (maybe i should call them sections instead) but we’re slowly making our way to the end of a very long journey. 

the first scene is A’s and N’s branch that you were teased in the first part of chapter nine. the one after... you know. Blane’s (rightful, i think) reaction to A’s accusation. i put this off for a while needing a break from the repetitive themes that were also in Blane’s + K’s and Rylan’s branches, but when i started writing the final section of the chapter, i realized that i was missing out on chances for flavour text. hence, me running back to finish the scene. so far, A’s and N’s branch is much more linear than the others, which, honestly, i’m relieved about. i love choice and i love branching off into tiny little subsections, but sometimes, it really does hurt my brain. this doesn’t mean that there isn’t the chance for customization and personalization, just that writing wise, it’s a little simpler for me.

the second scene (section?) i’ve been working on is the final scene in the chapter. i can’t say much about this one since it’d be a huge spoiler, but what i can say is that i managed to fit a choice in here that i think everyone will be super excited about. it’s small and perhaps insignificant to the plot, but it’s also extremely fun and gives a chance for a potential romance point, if you so choose.

on a final note, i want to say that i’ve recently been getting feedback about lack of personalization in when twilight strikes. while i can’t exactly change plot points, i do know that there are stats that are more neglected than others and would benefit from being showcased in flavour text in chapters. same goes for some of the more negative routes, like not forgiving A or disliking Rylan. joking around with characters when you supposedly dislike them does not make sense. oops. i always make small changes to previous chapters before publishing a new one, but with chapter nine, i’m going to do a deep dive into chapters one to eight and hopefully add some things that will make the story more individual to your playthrough. as always, i am grateful for any constructive criticism and appreciate the care you all have for this game. thank you <3

stats.

395,398 words (+ 13.4k)

#update #when twilight strikes #interactive fiction

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

Syzygy: Some Closing Thoughts

I'm writing this at 8pm on my backyard porch, under the wavering light of a distant full moon.  Hello, moon! Please don't kidnap me. I just wanted to hang out with you for a while as I collect my final thoughts. It's a pretty cloudy night tonight, so it's not properly visible, which I suppose is the cloud cover shielding me from a terrible lunar fate. It gives a deliciously hazy atmosphere for the absolute essay I'm about to write.

Apparently, the Farmer's Almanac says that tonight's full moon is a 'Pink Moon', which sounds like it'd be a very pleasant viewing experience. I imagine pastel frangipanis spontaneously sprouting all over the moon's surface, covering every inch of its rocks and crags until the soft pink glow is visible from all the way down here on Earth. Unfortunately it's not named 'Pink Moon' because of that; there's some American environmental factors, etc.

I think it's kind of charming that there's a list of names for every possible full moon, as if the moon's putting on different masks or incarnations every time it tilts just enough that we can see its full face. I'm looking at a list of them now instead of writing these final notes like I probably should. The names are so delightful. Strawberry Moon. Sturgeon Moon. Apparently last month's full moon was Worm Moon. WORM MOON. I could go on. I won't. Let's talk about Syzygy instead.

Syzygy is... Man, where do I even start with this? Let's try the beginning. I started writing Syzygy in February of 2021, after ruminating on it for probably a few months before that, as I often do. That's three years ago, so my memories of the reasons why are a bit fuzzy, but I think I did it for two reasons: one, a desire to have a long-form meaty slowburn fic for a beloved rarepair in the tag so other people could enjoy it, and two, a fascination with the idea of fractured identity, what it means to be a Side without a Centre. The whole thing with the alternate-history steampunk swapped-around Earth came about naturally from that.

Except that's actually kind of a lie, because that's not the beginning, this began in 2020, when I wrote a pitch for a local station that was accepting radio play submissions (rejected, of course) featuring a hardboiled noir detective in a starlit city whose latest client was a tiny shiny girl asking him to solve her father's murder. And that's also a lie, because I think it really began when I tried to write an original novel in high school where the protagonist's name was Avery Allen, because I liked the way the name tripped off my lips.

My stories are always built on each other, especially stories I never get to write. They all recycle into each other in a weird blend of concepts and characters. 2021 was when I sat down and told myself I was going to write the Thomceit time loop fic, and I dove into it with aplomb. I can't recall the exact timeline of events, but at some point I underwent some truly gnarly health problems that left me unable to use my hands for extended periods of time, and so the fic that was meant to be for a Big Bang ended up... Just sitting in a folder for a while. But me and my beta managed to pull it the fuck together, and after adding some extra bits and pieces (the cutaways were a LAST MINUTE ADDITION even though I think they're some of my favorite bits in the whole thing) I started putting it all up.

Okay, there we go, that's enough of an abridged history of this thing. Let's just say: I never expected as many people to like it as it turned out, I thought that it would be a niche little fic for a rarepair, and I was honestly pretty content with that. So it was delightful to see so many people getting so into it, I have enjoyed the FUCK out of all of your comments and theories and predictions. It's been delightful when people predicted a plot point correctly, and honestly even more delightful when they predicted incorrectly. I've had such a blast.

As for the writing... Suffice to say I have many notebooks full of notes and thoughts, more than one spreadsheet to keep track of time loops and lore, and a semi-complete list of all of Virgil's tarot cards, which one day I'll probably polish and share properly, because I think the concept is neat. But that's kind of how it always goes with my writing.

Naming every inspiration for this would take forever and I'd still miss a few, but I'll just throw out a key few ones, because I gotta:

17776: What Will Football Look Like In The Future, because when I first read it I got the wrong idea and thought that Juice (Jupiter Icy Moons Explorer) was short for Betelgeuse (the star), and that sparked a whole thing about living stars in my brain. Also, just the general way that the worldbuilding and absurdity is handled in that world, it scratches my brain just right.

Welcome To Night Vale. I don't think I need to explain this one.

Madeleine L'Engle's writing, particularly A Wind In The Door, particularly-particularly the bit of it where Proginoskes explains why, precisely, he has to remember and Name every star in the universe. Fucking beautiful book.

A particular Untamed/Mo Dao Zu Shi fic I read years ago and haven't been able to track down again, which also features two people stuck in a time loop who are initially unaware that they're in it together AND dying at the same time. I believe they also meet on a bus? The details are fuzzy. The worldbuilding and descriptions of that fic were so stunning to me, it had me unable to read anything for a solid few weeks, it is definitely a superior work to mine in every respect. If anyone finds it, let me know, I don't think I finished reading it and want to know how it ends.

An unpublished fic that I had the privilege to read while it was being written, that changed my brain chemistry re: the Sides unknowingly existing without Thomas. The Flowerwall Cafe originally hails from this one, too, graciously borrowed and greatly beloved.

Both Ghibli films in general AND Dianna Wynne Jones books in general, and obviously the intersection between the two, Howl's Moving Castle, which is fascinating in how both mediums handle the setting.

The Doctor Who audio drama Scherzo, which is a wild ride, and there's a major plot point revolving around the two main characters holding hands and fusing gruesomely into each other - and another involving an in-story fairy tale.

There was no huge inspiration for the clockwork city and weird steampunk carriages, apart from (perhaps) Fallen London. Certainly, the idea of a background organization that wants to kill the sun, who also happens to be a sentient being, is cribbed from the Liberation of Night.

Syzygy also happens to be packed full of many obscure references to... like... personal projects of mine, some published and some unpublished, as well as a lot of my friends and co-writers, and some really REALLY niche stuff that only I will ever properly understand. I buried a lot of myself into this story, is what I'm saying. Juice hails from a completely different project (a TTRPG with my friends, of which she is a beloved and cherished NPC), the in-universe author for Avery Allen (and Mallory Wynn too) are named for a fictional TV author I created when the writing discord was making a nonexistent fandom, Logan's dumpling recipe is my favorite recipe of all time.

I have an apartment ghost, too. I talk to it regularly.

Final thank-yous, because I want to post this very very soon, I've been typing for too long and the mosquitoes are starting to get to me. Thank you to:

Everyone on the TSS writing server who listened to me complain while I was writing it the first time round, and has subsequently listened to me complain while editing it these past two years. So many people in there are responsible for little bits and pieces - phrasings, words, nicknames, jokes - and I couldn't begin to name everyone who helped.

Saphira and the rest of the people who are currently working on making a full-cast audio drama out of this fic (???) (???!!!!??) (!!!!). It is SO baffling to me that it's happening, I'm in complete disbelief whenever we talk about it or I see the script or I get asked logistics questions, I'm terrified and thrilled to see how it turns out, what the fuck! The very existence of that project has ended up influencing a few things about this fic's endgame, too.

Everyone who's commented extensively, commented entire academic analyses, commented numbered lists, commented laconically, left a single emoji in the comments, left kudos, bookmarked it, sent me asks on Tumblr, given me thumbs-ups on Discord, or even just silently read the fic without interacting at all. Your witness brings my words to existence. Love you love you love you.

And Len, who lives in my brain and my body and my heart and my throat, and who is honestly singlehandedly responsible for dragging this fic out of the depths of Google Docs and into the arms of AO3. They've already said I don't need to thank them, but come on, I totally do. Len is the best beta, and puts up with all sorts of deranged nonsense from me, because I have an unhinged writing process where I don't think about anything before I put it down on the page, and I use way too many connecting-dashes and not enough semicolons. Kisses kisses kisses. Thanks for doing this with me, and I can't wait to do it again.

Myself. I managed to write this and I managed to finish it. That makes me a pretty cool person, all things considered. I'm glad I did this.

What next? I've got to rest. Well, I need to get some things done... and then rest. I've been juggling a hellish amount of projects for a while now, and now Syzygy's finally cleared from my plate, I'm going to try to let the others get cleared too so I can take some time and be less stressed. The Locked Tomb AU will be ongoing, as I get through final edits of chapters, so keep an eye out for that - if you're interested in a fic that's rather less starry and shiny, but very much Thomceit and death themes, check it out  - and then....... Well, whatever comes next, whenever I have the energy to do it. I adore writing in this fandom. I'll be back with something weird soon enough.

Ad astra, baby! It's been a blast.

- Min (2024)

#Syzygy #author's note

[jackoshadows]

@blankwhiteshield I thought I would respond in a separate post since I don't want to derail from @fromtheseventhhell's OG post about something else. You responded to my comment here by saying that I was 'entirely wrong' and linking to an essay on Jaime Lannister and I did try to read through all that to get a gist of your explanation.

First I want to mention that Rhaegar being a pre-asoiaf/background/tertiary character means we don't know a lot about him. I can only speculate as to his thoughts and motives and why he did what he did.

I wrote that comment because the absolute hypocrisy of Jaime Lannister apologists/Braime shippers critiquing Rhaegar grinds my gears something fierce. And I am not even a Rhaegar fan - he's a character that there's to set other characters on their journey and to set the story.

The consequences of Jaime's incestual adultery was the spark that lead to the WOT5K that two years on is still ongoing with no stability in war torn Westeros. Jaime Lannister attempts to murder a little child because he can't keep it in his pants for the short duration they are visiting the Starks. Jaime was hunting down a 9 year old to cut off her hand. That poll about Rhaegar being a bad father when Jaime refers to Joffrey as semen in Cersei's cunt is a farce.

Hence my comment.

Now, let's start with Jaime being Aerys' hostage. Yes, Aerys used Jaime against Tywin. However, why was Jaime in the Kingsguard (KG) in the first place? He was Tywin's golden child and heir to Casterly Rock, unlike Cersei and Tyrion having no value for Tywin because she is a girl and he is disabled.

Aerys had no power over Jaime until he chose to join the KG to serve the Mad King. Jaime had more choice than the 14 year old bastard Jon Snow who had to leave Winterfell and the NW is pretty much the only option available to him. He had more choice than his sister Cersei. He had more choice than disabled Tyrion getting physically/sexually abused by his own family.

So why did Jaime decide to join the KG? So that he could be close to Cersei and sleep with her. Jaime joins the KG knowing that he was going to break the KG oaths of celibacy. He didn't care about oaths when joining the KG , right?

This is why Jaime's entire spiel about oaths never had any emotional weight for me, coming from a character who had no value for oaths in the first place and who had no intention of upholding his sworn oaths when he joined the KG.

I can understand a character like Jon Snow's angst and conflict when he is forced to sleep with Ygritte or when he has to choose between the NW and saving his sister, because oaths are important to Jon Snow. Oaths and honor is important to someone like Ned Stark. Jaime? Considering his total disrespect for the KG oaths when he joins them to simply be close to Cersei, I don't get it.

Next, Rhaegar's conversation with Jaime.

Why do you assume here that Jaime was scared of Aerys and asking Rhaegar to save/rescue him from Aerys? I mean, Jaime was KG. At 13 he won his first melee. At 15 he was defeating other skilled swordsmen.

It could just as well be Jaime eager to fight with Rhaegar in battle and asking that Rhaegar leave behind the older KG like Darry to instead guard the king because the battle is where the fight is. Jaime thinks that guarding someone is not as exciting as fighting in battle. It's even right there in the next sentence when Jaime gets angry about being referred to as a crutch and he's like ' I AM A KINGSGUARD'.

We see something similar when Jon begs his uncle to take him for ranging.

Three days after their arrival, Jon had heard that Benjen Stark was to lead a half-dozen men on a ranging into the haunted forest. That night he sought out his uncle in the great timbered common hall and pleaded to go with him. Benjen refused him curtly. - Jon, AGoT

There's also not much Rhaegar can probably do at that point (speculating here) - facing war/battle - about his volatile, angry father, the King. There are all these essays about the effect that Tywin had on Jaime... imagine the burden of being the Mad King's son. What power does Rhaegar have to take away the King's choice of KG? Rhaegar didn't even have the power to send his own wife and children elsewhere. Him actively interfering was only going to further anger a king who was already paranoid about the crown prince. Hence the 'I dare not take away that crutch from him at such a hour'.

I think you also mention that Jaime was terrified of being executed as an hostage - is this mentioned anywhere in the books or are you just assuming/speculating on his thought process here?

Jon Snow is elected Lord Commander of the Night's Watch at 16. In Westeros 16 is considered a man grown and Jaime is an adult by Westerosi standards and Rhaegar certainly didn't see him as some kind of child hostage like that post deliberately twisted it into.

A boy in Westeros is considered to be a "man grown" at sixteen years. The same is true for girls. Sixteen is the age of legal majority, as twenty-one is for us.

At any rate, Rhaegar and Jaime's fellow KG expected the KG left behind in KL - Jaime Lannister - to do his job and protect the crown prince's wife and babies as per sworn oaths.

In which Jaime fails because while his father's men, including the Mountain, were scaling the walls to rape and murder Elia and her babies, Jaime was lounging on the throne waiting for one of the rebels to get there. And hence his guilt when confronted by ghosts of his past in his weirwood dreams.

You have written a lot on how Jaime could not have known about what Tywin's men would do. I mean, why is he waiting around to find out what they would do?! Sorry, these are piss poor excuses and even Jaime Lannister himself doesn't really believe this because he knows that he should have immediately gone to their side after the King was dead as his ghosts tell him.

Jaime knows his father. He knows what Tywin is capable of. He was there for what Tywin did to Tysha. KL was even then being raped and pillaged. And he thought nothing would happen to the Targaryen princess and her children?

The Mad King was dead - literally backstabbed by the hostage. What should this skilled Kingsguard do next? Immediately go to Elia and the babies to protect Rhaegar's family as Rhaegar entrusted him to do or sit on the Throne waiting for someone to come there? We know what Jaime chose to do:

'Then he climbed the Iron Throne and seated himself with his sword across his knees to see who would come to claim the kingdom. As it happened, it had been Eddard Stark'.

This is what is given to us in the books. Nothing more, nothing else. You can add to this of course, but that would be speculative theorizing on what Jaime's thoughts and feelings are about all this, not what is actually given to us in the books.

#Response

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: The Shadow of the Past

"The blame was mostly laid on Gandalf." Whatever you did, you've been officially labeled a Disturber of the Peace...

Something about "but the growth of hobbit-sense was not very noticeable" cracks me up

I love the fact that Frodo kept throwing birthday parties for Bilbo after he left. It's so sweet.

I would much rather go to Frodo’s Hundred-weight Feast than Bilbo’s Party of Special Magnificence, actually; twenty guests and several meals “at which it snowed food and rained drink” sounds much more my speed X-D

“Bilbo isn’t dead.” “Where is he then?” “🤷‍♂️”

F in the chat for Folco Boffin, who was mentioned like once in this chapter and never comes into the story again

"Merry and Pippin suspected that [Frodo] visited the Elves at times, as Bilbo had done." TEA???

Frodo's wandering in the autumn has such an evocative and melancholy feeling to it. So much so that I wrote a poem about it last year...

Part Two of me wishing the movies could have shown the Dwarves passing through the Shire on their way to the Blue Mountains

Sam be like "Dragons and Ents are real, I tell you!" and Ted Sandyman like "press X to doubt"

Our first glimpse of Sam's unassailable trust in Frodo and his wisdom 💚

And now! Exposition dumping, with Gandalf.

I hate the fact that I can't see or hear the word Eregion without getting war flashbacks to Amazon's Rings of Poopy

Ooh, remind me to write an essay about the invisibility power of the Ring(s)...

"[Bilbo] would certainly never have passed on to you anything that he thought would be a danger." Oh boy, would you look at the time, it's Crying About Adoptive Relationships O'clock

"'There wasn't any permanent harm done, was there?' asked Frodo anxiously. 'He would get all right in time, wouldn't he? Be able to rest in peace, I mean.'" OH BOY, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME—

Literally Gandalf: "Hobbits are my special interest"

"It is quite cool." It sure is, Gandalf. Wicked. Radical, even.

Low-hanging fruit, I know, but I had to 🤣

Speaking of low-hanging fruit, here's a joke I made two years ago about the "until Spring had passed into Winter" line:

He threw a luau barbecue one breezy summer night/Invited all his turtle pals to come and have a wiki bite/The turtles started walkin' there as Lance began to swing/The one that lived across the street arrived there in the spring...!

"I wish it need not have happened in my time." "So do I, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." Still a line that goes so, so hard, right in the middle of this exposition dump.

I like how in Gandalf's story, he makes Deagol talk normally, but Smeagol still has all those verbal idiosyncrasies that are iconic to Gollum.

I'm still trying to remember who it was that pointed out that the last syllable of Smeagol is the first syllable of Gollum. Blew my mind when I saw that, I tell ya.

"I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought." "It is not." 🤣🤣🤣

The thought of Gollum creeping through a window to snatch a baby from a cradle and eat it is at least seventeen different kinds of Not Fun. Thanks, Tolkien.

I have very little to say about Gandalf's retelling of the Ring's story—and Frodo's frightened and naive questions—except that it's almost as hard to tear your eyes away from the book as it is for Frodo to throw the Ring into the fire.

"I do really wish to destroy it! Or, well, to have it destroyed. I am not made for perilous quests." Oh, Frodo, bby...

I love how Sam's spying is so artfully foreshadowed here X-D You just go whistling away down that path, buddy! Nobody suspects a thing!

All Frodo has to say is "I suppose I'll have to go running into danger alone to keep everything and everyone I love safe, even if it means never coming home again; it's a pity, but I'll do it" and Gandalf is like "Frodo have I mentioned lately how much I love you and hobbits in general". Which. Mood! Big mood!

SUDDENLY, SAMWISE GAMGEE!

Good gracious did I need Sam and his comic relief after this heavy chapter X-D Bless you, Sam, you loveable dummy

I wonder what hobbit idiom Tolkien "translated" into "Lor bless you, sir". I'm not sure the hobbits have a concept of Eru Illuvatar as a benevolent God who hands out blessings; and if they do, I somehow doubt they'd have quaint little figures of speech like this. But I'm just nitpicking at this point because it's fun.

"There ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact." SAM 🤣🤣

"Mr. Frodo, sir! Don't let him hurt me, sir! Don't let him turn me into anything unnatural! My old dad would take on so." Have I mentioned that I love the heck out of Sam?

Frodo is "hardly able to keep from laughing", which, MOOD!

Sam heard that Mr. Frodo was going away and audibly choked. GAH I love him so much

Frodo sure knows how to threaten Sam LOL

"If you even breathe a word of what you've heard here, then I hope Gandalf will turn you into a spotted toad and fill the garden full of grass-snakes." 🤣🤣

"'Me, sir!' cried Sam, springing up like a dog invited for a walk. 'Me go and see Elves and all! Hooray!' he shouted, and then burst into tears." Oh, Sam. I love you.

#chapter review #frodo baggins #gandalf #samwise gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing