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whoacanada · 3 years

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‘Wishful Thinking‘

Summary: Every NHL champion gets a single brush with ice magic. When Jack takes his first cup with the Falconers, he accidentally undoes the wish that brought him back from the brink of death in 2009, and Bitty becomes hell-bent on lifting the cup himself for a chance to set things right.

A/N: Finally posting some concepts I’ve played around with that aren’t 100% complete massive fics, but still pretty solid, just little things that might be enjoyed. Yet another cup-wish-gone-wrong-au with monkey-paw components. Also inspired by discord convos about canon!Jack meeting an older, veteran NHL!Bitty and having a lot of feelings. Also mentor/father-in-law!Bob trying to help Bitty navigate the NHL. There’s more to this floating around but this is the meat of it

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Bob can sense when it happens. A shift of something monumental that he’s only felt on a handful of occasions his entire life. A quick glance across the ice finds a number of the celebrating Falconers looking around curiously, unsure of the sensation; for so many, it’s their first brush with ice magic. A pleasant novelty. The vets, though, they look to each other.

Bob turns and doesn’t have to look far to find his son, one hand clasped around the cup, the other around Eric Bittle’s waist, smiling from ear to ear. Something about the moment is wrong, but Bob can’t quite determine why as he’s overcome with a wave of nausea. The stadium lights are too bright and he blinks hard, face scrunching, trying to force whatever wrongness he’s feeling out of himself.

Someone’s made a wish.

The moment passes. Bob’s vision clears. There, veiled in a shower of blue and gold confetti, is Eric; alone at center ice, face twisted in confusion as he looks around for the man who only moments earlier had been in his arms.

“You take the cup, you get one real wish,” the decades old, bourbon-lacquered voice of his first coach reminds him. “But only the one. Can be something small, like an empty cab in the rain, or it can be something big. World changing, even. The one thing, the most important thing — ”

“No,” Bob breathes. “Please, no.”

“— You never use your wish on another player.”

____________

They don’t know exactly what Jack wished for, but the next time Bitty’s blades touch the ice, it’s as if he’s stepped into the body of a new man. No more slurs. No more targeted chirps. He’s just one of the boys.

He plays. He wins. Then, the offers start to come.

NHL teams looking for fast wingers, team players, leadership material; not one of them mentions diversity, or Eric’s status as the first out NCAA hockey captain. No one cares. No one remembers Jack, and no one cares about Eric.

The best and worst case scenarios rolled into one. If this is the reality Jack unknowingly traded his existence for, Bitty has no choice but to walk through the door his partner opened.

Bitty swallows, trying to force the words out on one of his now nightly calls with the man who would have been his father-in-law in another world, if the shared connection between them hadn’t been interred in a Montréal cemetery almost a decade prior.

“I think . . . I think he wished for acceptance.”

___________

“No one remembers anymore.”

Eric scuffs his skate against this ice, building up a small pile of shavings before scattering them again, focusing on the soft white as if somehow he’ll be able to transport himself bodily to somewhere cool and quiet. Jackson Hole. Banff. Tremblant. Anywhere but here. Anywhen but now.

“Saw Tater last week at a press junket. Blank stares all around. Some days, most days, I wake up and I don’t know how I got here. I can go without thinking of him.”

Weeks. Eric doesn’t say aloud. Months. Those hideous mornings when he wakes up beside a warm body and forgets they aren’t him. They aren’t supposed to be him. Was there ever even a him.

Jack. Eric mouths silently, just to remind himself. His name is Jack.

The details always slip. The universe constantly trying to correct the fallacy of Eric Bittle remembering a man who died before they technically ever met. Faded photographs and corrupted memory cards. Selfies that used to have two people in frame. Vlog posts with cosmic ADR, swapping Jack’s name for someone else’s like a hastily rewritten script. Eventually, even Eric’s memories turn traitor. First times lost to reshoots and post-production magic. Blue eyes are brown. Black hair is blonde. Jack becomes Phillip. Eric’s first love recast. In desperation, he pulls a page from Memento, finds a tattoo parlor and has ‘Jack Laurent Zimmermann’ inked in dark, unmistakable letters on his inner thigh. Adds a cup, the Falconers’ crest, and the date they lost everything. It works well enough until the name fades; there are still days where a hook up will ask why Eric has a championship tattoo for a team he never played with.

Now, all he has is Bob.

“That’s why I’m here.” Bob reminds. “That’s why we talk.”

“But what happens if we don’t.”

Bob’s familiar assurances rumble through the phone. Constant. Refusing to acknowledge the harsh realities of the passing of time. The ever-present doomsday clock moving them both toward disaster — Bob aging, Eric aging out. He’s good, but he isn’t great, and the only offers coming his way are single-season contracts with teams that haven’t sniffed a championship in years. One day very soon, there will be no more chances for Eric to undo what’s been done. No more favors to ask of teammates that have long since forgotten a world where Jack Zimmermann was a college graduate and a rookie MVP. Not just an addict. Not just dead at nineteen.

Eric listens to Bob ramble, asks him to tell him a story, to tell him about the Jack that Eric never really got to know. The Jack he can barely remember. A man that Eric has dedicated his entire life to honoring, to bringing back — from where he cannot fathom — and Bob obliges in a soft tone Eric imagines is not dissimilar from how he must have spoken to his son as a child.

Eric ignores his teammates rushing around him — tossing chirps and gentle insults about his ‘Sugar Daddy’ — and focuses on the accented voice in his ear; grasping desperately at the memory of a man who doesn’t exist. Pretending. Hoping.

__________

Across the ice, Eric sees Kent Parson watching him. When they lock eyes, the aging star glides toward him, under a guise of one amicable captain greeting another. He’s pushing 37, and while the years of competitive play are starting to show, he’s just as viciously handsome as the day they first met. At least, Eric thinks he is. He can’t imagine a life where Kent Parson strolled onto a college campus and played beer pong at a frat party, but there’s a folder of old photos on Eric’s computer. Jack is in none of them, but there’s one of himself and Kent. Smiling.

Eric can’t recall why the image bothers him so much.

Parson used his wish years ago on something that he’s never bothered to share — and Eric’s far too much a gentleman to ask a man who was once a rival what he wasted his golden ticket on — but now, he’s slowing down, and this is supposed to be his farewell season. Going out with a bang, riding the high of his fifth cup win. He’s worked hard, and he deserves to shove the Penguins back down into obscurity for another season. Deserves it far more than Eric, with his selfish, single-mindedness that’s ruined god knows how many careers in the last decade between his own ruthlessness and Bob’s meddling.

Except. . . this is also likely Eric’s last season. His last chance to undo the great tragedy of his life, and Parson knows it.

“How you feeling, Peaches? You ready?”

Eric hates the nickname in the same way he hates when his father calls him ‘Champ’.

Eric fights his own shame because he wants to be honest, say, ‘No, I’m not ready, I’ll never be ready,’ but Eric can’t ask for what he wants, anymore. He wants the Aces to balk on a power play. He wants Parson to flub a pass and throw the game — he even knows the man would probably do it, too — but Eric needs to come by a win honestly. They learned the hard way in 2022 when Eric hands were wrapped around the cup, wishing, praying, crying, pleading . . .

Clear eyes, full hearts, or some such bullshit.

Cheaters don’t get wishes.

“I can’t remember, anymore,” Eric admits as they square up across the face-off circle, the resigned terror of an inescapable end creeping upon him like the burn of an old injury ignored for far too long. “Kent. Please.” Parson leans down, rests his stick against the ice, and holds Eric’s gaze as if to say, I’m here. Trust me. Just play.

The puck drops.

________

There’s someone watching him, young, handsome with dark hair and the kind of bright blue eyes that scream ‘notice me’ with all of the biological bluntness of neon plumage and a mating dance. The man weaves through the crowd, unnoticed by Eric’s teammates, and comes close enough that Eric can’t help but assume familiarity. He must be a fan, the way he’s flushed and excitable.

Eric’s drunk enough on the moment that he’s happy to indulge his baser instincts. He also literally can’t remember the last time he brought company home and if there’s ever been a night to get laid, it’s this one.

“Crisse, look at you, Bits.”

The man is caught between being awestruck and simply struck, reaching out to touch Eric’s arm but not quite making contact, like his depth perception is the tiniest bit off. He drops Eric’s old nickname so easily, so earnestly, that for a moment Eric thinks they might already know each other — but that’s impossible. Eric would remember someone so handsome, so very much his type.

“Only my friends call me ‘Bitty’.” Eric cautions, raising his half-empty champagne bottle in a mock toast and flashing his best ‘you’re coming home with me tonight’ smile. “But I’m more than happy to to get acquainted with you, Sugar.”

Eric isn’t usually this forward, this unrestrained. Tonight, it doesn’t matter, he’s celebrating: another championship, the end of a career, a life well lived. It’s to be expected. What isn’t expected is how the man’s relieved smile falters; as if Eric’s unbridled joy is somehow misplaced.

“Bitty? It’s me.”

“And ‘me’ is called . . . ?”

On very few occasions in Eric’s life has he been able to witness true devastation first-hand; and those instances were related to deaths, hockey losses, or blackout morning afters.

“Jack.” The man says softly, face slack with surprise. “It’s. . . Jack. Bitty, you know me.”

“If we’ve met before, I’m sorry,” Eric apologizes, hating to see the kid look so defeated. “I meet so many people — ”

Over Jack’s shoulder, Eric catches sight of Bob Zimmermann and waves, delighting in the way Bob’s face lights up when he catches sight of Eric, practically going supernova when he notices Jack as well, crossing the ice like a man possessed; Bob moves to pull them both into a hug but Eric’s new friend holds up a defensive hand and Bob stops mid-gesture.

It’s extremely apparent something is off, and between the reporters, the confetti, the champagne, and the fans, Eric is missing all of the context clues.

“Just won my last cup,” Eric singsongs, gesturing with the bottle between his mentor and the man Eric would very much like to fuck — who look very similar now that Eric can see them side by side. “Everyone’s super excited, right? Yeah? So, what’s going on. Did someone die?”

“No.” Bob says quickly, eyes flicking between Jack and Eric warily. “No. Not . . . that.”

“Severely injured?”

“. . . Non.”

“Okay, then, we should be celebrating!” Eric throws his arms wide and nearly clocks a passing teammate. “No more party pooping, Bobbert. Speaking, this is my new friend, Jack. Jack, Bob, Bob, Jack. Though, I’m getting the feeling you two might know each other. Or might be . . . related.” Eric gasps and smacks his free palm against his forehead. “Oh my god, the Tremblant retreat? Is that where I know you from? Listen, I was fucked up on pain meds that whole weekend, I am so sorry if we’ve already met.”

Despite Eric’s continued attempts at clarifying their shared mystery past, Jack keeps looking at Bob with that same wounded expression and it’s really killing Eric’s buzz.

“Bob.” Eric redirects. “Help me, here. Cutie’s nervous.”

“Eric, this is my, ah, well,” Bob’s smile is so forced, so tense, it looks more like a grimace. “Well, this is my son, Jack.”

There is only one ‘Jack’ Eric has ever known in relation to Bob Zimmermann, and he is not someone to be mentioned in polite conversation.

“Your son?” Eric echoes slowly. “Your son, Jack.”

Bob realizes what Eric’s tiptoeing around and casts a furtive glance toward the younger man, lifting two fingers to his cheek conspiratorially to imply ‘it’s a long story, not meant for public ears’. Eric knows how to play along.

“Wow, okay, did not expect that, but now that you’re saying it, I can one-hundred-percent tell. You have the same, well, everything.”

Eric takes Jack’s hand for an obligatory shake, not missing the way Jack’s features twist up into something caught between flattery and misery, before staring down his pseudo-mentor.

“My question is this, where have you’ve been hiding him — because how long have I know you, Bobby? Shame.”

“I’ve been . . . away.”

Jack’s tone is weighted with context Eric absolutely does not possess, but can definitely read into. Given the age difference and Alicia’s conspicuous lack of attendance this evening, Jack’s definitely a love child from some 90s Zimmergroupie. Or, original Jack didn’t actually OD and Bob spirited away his kid to keep away the prying eyes of the public; but that wouldn’t explain the age difference or the shared name.

Oh, Bobbert.

“Couldn’t wheel him out too soon,” Bob jokes, but Eric can tell the man’s heart isn’t in it, reinforcing Eric’s suspicion.

“Well, I’m happy you did,” Eric says graciously, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “He’s very handsome, when he isn’t doing this Eeyore impression.”

“Just like his father,” Bob says reflexively — defensively — as Jack goes pink. “Eric, will you excuse us for a moment? Back in five minutes, tops.”

Eric offers a gracious wave, gaze lingering on Jack’s retreating back — and backside, bless — watching Bob rest a firm hand on his son’s neck, gripping tightly to lean in and furiously whisper something. As Eric watches, Jack looks back over his shoulder; it’s not the fond glance of a potential paramour. Regret, maybe? Grief, definitely.

He must be as disappointed to be cock-blocked by his father as Eric is.

Across the ice, Kent Parson has rushed Jack, gathering him into a crushing embrace that the younger man returns easily — burying his face against Parson’s pads; pulling back only when Parson grabs Jack’s shoulders to push him away, taking a long look at him, holding his face between his hands briefly before pulling Jack back into his arms.

They don’t just look like old friends, it’s a reunion of desperation, like the videos his mother sends of soldiers coming home from war, but before Eric can think better of it, a teammate fists a hand in the collar of Eric’s sweater and pulls — away from Bob’s forlorn love child and forgotten first meetings — and the night goes on.

Bob doesn’t return. Neither does Jack.

Eric doesn’t even notice.

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#Part I #maybe?#zimbits #omgcp #angst #long fic #cup magic #ice magic #my stuff #my fic #NHL!Bitty

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asexual-abomination · 3 years

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Plat!Yan!Chrollo x Autistic!Reader x Plat!Yan!PT - Soulmate AU Part 1

This is largely self indulgent writing, as I know that very little of this niche exists, if any. The reader here is largely based on myself and my own thoughts of the world, but I hope others enjoy my writing. I have no formal education in writing, so if you have any advice for my writing style, please feel free to send it in.

This idea was largely inspired by the lovely @kiame-sama, who wrote this concept with a romantically yandere Chrollo, though I am aro-ace and changed it just slightly for my own writing. I hope to continue this series with more parts, but they may not all follow the same story thread.

This part just includes the body swap.

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You were never going to make the best impression on your soulmate. Or at least, you could never make the best impression on their friends, and that was what mattered largely to you. Talking to people would never be your strong suit, but at least on your end you had many months and other friends to keep your soulmate entertained. Waking up in a stranger's body, talking to other strangers about all details of their life? Horrible.

It should have been a comfort that there was a small yellow flower tattooed just below the date on your back, indicative of a platonic soulmate, but the idea that you would likely be expected to spend time not just with your soulmate, but with their friends as well threw you off so incredibly. Your soulmate would surely need the patience of a saint to deal with you, at least according to most people you speak with about your soulmate.

Your preparations for the switch were over now, all things embarrassing put away for now, some good food prepped, and a letter you had written taped to the inside of your bedroom door. For now, you were going over the final rules for your friends who were under strict instructions of exactly what they could and could not speak about with your soulmate. Even though they chuckled under their breath about your extreme caution, at this point you had to trust that they would follow what you said, since your switch was just minutes away.

Your closest friend, Jo, assured you that they would keep the rest in line. Knowing their authoritative personality and intimidating aura, you were much more reassured that things would go well. Even as you got up to leave, they were giving everyone their famous evil eye to keep them quiet.

Heading into the bedroom, you laid down, only to realize that your breathing was coming short and there seemed to be not enough air getting in your lungs. Were you seriously having a panic attack just before your switch? You tried to calm yourself with the breathing exercises you had been taught, but there was little you could do, which only made your panic grow faster.

You had only seconds to spare, and the reality of the situation hit you with the force of a freight train. Keeping your eyes open, you took one deep breath to hope you wouldn't ruin everything on the spot.

Everything changed in an instant, the position of your body, the tension of your muscles, the temperature and smell of the room. And the last thing to hit you, the fact that your soulmate decided to switch while driving on a highway.

Internally, you felt a massive surge of panic, outweighing the mild anxiety you had been feeling by a landslide. Until you realized that the body you were in appeared to be functioning on its own.

It was common knowledge that during the switch, there was no change to the body's ability to understand and speak languages, though you wondered if you were among the first to find the same thing applied to driving skills.

Slowly, you brought your breathing back to a calm, knowing that a meltdown right now could spell things much worse than humiliation. Once you felt ready enough that you wouldn't cry the second anything moved a moment to fast, you looked up to the rearview mirror to take in the inhabitants of the car.

Seeing the body you were in -- your soulmate -- was jarring, but he didn't appear immediately scary in the mirror. He had slicked black hair, wide eyes the color of granite, and wore a black trench coat with white fur that was open to show his bare chest underneath. But your attention was quickly drawn from his reflection to the fact that there were others accompanying you in this car.

Sat next to you in the passenger's seat was a woman with bright pink hair and a stony face, staring straight ahead at the road, who didn't appear to have noticed that there was any difference in her driver's behavior. Taking up the back seats were three men, one blond with a babyish smile, another blonde much taller than the first with a toughened look about himself, and a man with long black hair tied back looking grumpily out of his side window. All of them gave off intimidating vibes, almost putting you off of speaking at all.

After a few moments of quiet driving, it became apparent to you that these people weren't going to notice you until you spoke up. You were grateful for the time to prepare your first words, but with the menacing energy all these people gave off, you had to put your minimal understanding of conversation to its maximum.

"Ah... This wasn't quite what I was expecting..." Not the best opening line, but at least you had begun to announce your presence.

It was the pink-haired woman next to you who first responded with a questioning hum.

"I'm not sure who this is, but whoever they are, I'm their soulmate." That seemed to incite a reaction from the entire car.

"Soulmate!?" The black haired man jumped from his position, his grumpy mood dissipated and replaced with confusion mixed with excitement. The two other men were looking between themselves, while the woman's face somehow got even tougher, glaring towards you with something that you assumed was suspicion.

"Hah... I'm about as surprised as you are!" You tried to add some joy to your tone, hoping that matching their excitement would somehow dispel the situation faster. However, they continued to glare at you, and you began to wish that you could sink away into the seat, though there was very little that would help with at this point.

It's almost deathly quiet in the car for just a few moments, before all hell breaks loose. The others in the car were yelling questions at you, and yelling in general at each other.

"Would you lot calm down!?" The woman seemed to be your ally here, "If you keep this act up, we're gonna scare his soulmate off before the switch is even over!"

"Why wouldn't the boss have told us about his switch? This isn't like him in the slightest!" The black-haired man was clearly upset, though you weren't sure if he was angry at 'the boss' or at you.

The woman hushed him by saying that 'the boss' likely meant this as a test, which only served to confuse your perception of these people further. After a few moments of whispering between themselves, they finally turned back to you.

"So, who are you?" The rougher looking blond asked, not exactly setting a good tone.

It took you a few moments to even notice that he had even spoken to you, as the realization that your soulmate made seemingly no preparations for your switch hit you hard. Even though the day he would switch with you was embedded on his body, he had let you wake up in some random moment of his life, while you had spent months working around this day to get the best outcome possible.

"My name is (Y/N)," you introduced yourself carefully, not quite sure if you wanted to give your full name away to these people, "And who might you be?"

The four looked between themselves, completely ignoring your question. "No-one we know by that name."

They went further into their suspicious act, but were kind enough to also give their own first names before continuing their own interrogation. It was the baby-faced boy in the backseat, Shalnark, who asked the majority of the questions, he seemed to be very pushy and tricked you into giving answers multiple times.

The conversation was very one-sided, as you tried every trick you had ever been taught for keeping interactions equal, only to eventually realize that all four of them were working against you, using tactics for talking that you had never thought of before.

You were quick to become frustrated with their incessant questions. There were no spaces for the others to talk, leaving you feel like bug under a microscope as they stared at you. Eventually, it seemed that they were happy with the information they had gotten from you, which was a lot, including the full name you hadn't wanted to give them earlier, your home nation and your line of work.

Whoever these people were, they were good at interrogation, Shalnark especially good at tricking you with simple questions that he insinuated much greater answers from, which worried you for what these people could do for a living. If your soulmate was their boss, could he be even better at this type of talk? You didn't think you could handle conversations with a man that potentially intelligent.

Now that they were being less interrogating, you tried to take the opportunity to add your own questions, but you could only glean a few things from the way they answered. For one thing, the highway that you were currently on was on the same continent that you lived on, but a few countries over. For another, there were many more members of this group that worked for your soulmate.

Asking questions about your soulmate got a strange reaction each time, all of the passengers of the car taking a moment to look between themselves before giving you vague answers. His name was Chrollo, and as their boss, they didn't feel it was right to tell you too much about him, or so they said. You found that he was well-read, though they still refused to tell you much about precisely what he read.

It felt useless to try and pursue the conversation further, as you were nowhere near their level of smarts in conversation. To try and alleviate some of the tension you were feeling, you attempted to bring up lighter topics, asking them for funny stories, which they somewhat complied with. Although their style of telling stories seemed odd to you, as they left out a lot of details without prompting, but you were at least happy that the focus was off of you.

They told you stories of traveling around the world, and how they saw some of the worlds most gorgeous sights and expensive luxuries nearly everyday. You had to assume that they were embellishing most of it, but they made their lives sound rather fun, and you wondered if your own friends were giving Chrollo anywhere near as good an impression back home.

It had to have been at least an hour before another fear hit you, one that plagued you nearly everyday. From your perspective, everything was going well, they were laughing and telling stories not just to you but with each other, which indicated that they were happy with how how you acted. However, the fear that plagued you from inside told you that they weren't happy, that you had done something wrong and now they were laughing at you. Looking back on every word you had spoken, you felt almost physically sick, seeing every flaw in your word choice and tone in hindsight.

The passengers were looking and laughing between themselves and talking, so they didn't notice right away that there were tears gathering in your eyes, for which you were grateful. Just as suddenly as you were sat there, surrounded by happy voices with tears in your eyes, you were back home, sat amongst your own friends, who laughed perhaps even louder.

Once you came to and realized that you were no longer driving, and in fact were sitting on your own couch with your own friends, the tears really started to run. The letter that you had spent so much time carefully writing was clutched hard in your hand, but not so much that it would crumple or bend.

You quickly stood while mumbling an excuse, rushing to your room as your friends called after you. It felt odd to be back in your own body, the smells and sounds of everything hitting you horribly clearly. There was very little you could do to keep yourself from getting overwhelmed.

Your friends had already been prepared for what to do if you were overwhelmed coming back from your switch, but that didn't stop their concern for the way you were acting.

"Hey, (Y/N)? You okay in there?" Jo's voice came through the door, and you were grateful that your closest friend was here for you. "The others are all gonna start heading home now, but I'm gonna stick around. I don't want you to feel alone at the moment."

With a quick confirmation from you from behind the door, Jo headed to get some rest in the living room. Practically falling into your bed, you pulled the weighted blanket you had gotten as a gift over yourself, staring up at the ceiling as all of the feelings of excitement and fear finally crashed down on you.

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Thanks for reading!

#hunter x hunter #hxh #chrollo #yandere #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere chrollo #phantom troupe #machi komachine #phinks magcub #shalnark ryusei #nobunaga hazama #self insert #self ship #soulmate au #body swap #autistic reader #gender neutral y/n

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shadowed-dancer · 3 years

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My Thoughts on the New MHA Opening and Ending

I have thoughts, and I will share them because oh boy if I don’t get this out I’m gonna explode

Vague Spoilers for the manga (up to chapter 258 and vigilantes) because I discuss the upcoming arcs, but I don’t discuss any major plot points in detail. Still, proceed with caution if you’re anime only

Keep in mind, this OP and ED will cover the Endeavour Agency Arc and the MVA Arc, so I will be judging them accordingly.

First, the OP

This is a good OP... in theory (that’s going to become my catchphrase for this post). It’s nice to look at and flows pretty well, but my biggest problem is that it doesn’t do it’s job. An OP is supposed to be a sort of... summary (?) of the Cour it plays for. That means any cool plot points, emotional beats, and important characters should be featured in some way, shape, or form. We’ll talk about that more later, but first let’s discuss the music.

The song is really good. I have a feeling it will continue to grow on me as I listen to it more often, but yeah my first impression is that the song sounds great. My only complaint about the music itself is that it ends kind of abruptly (I noticed this is the JT opening too). The previous openings used to have a bit of instrumental to “play us out” and lead us to the end card, but this one feels like it ends very suddenly and unnaturally.

As for the visuals...

Yeah alright I’ll admit, the visuals are stunning... in theory. I appreciate the variety in backgrounds and colours, it makes the OP really interesting to look at. This was actually one of my biggest problems with the JT Opening, it all took place on the training grounds, so there was no variety (everything was metal tubes with a blue sky, with only 3 shots set somewhere different). I appreciate the style of this OP.

But like I said, that’s only in theory, as in, through screenshots these are all pleasing to look at. The pacing of this OP is wild, and I truly don’t know who to blame for this.

That sunset shot above? It lasts approximately 12 seconds, zooming in every few to make it seem like something is happening (when in reality it’s still the same poses, angles, etc). While there’s nothing wrong with a nice, drawn out shot, it becomes irritating when compared to the pacing of the rest of this op.

At the 41 second mark, we are given the shot above. It has flowed directly from the previous sunset scene. We still have not moved away from the image of the trio (aside from the opening shot and the title card) yet we’re approaching the halfway mark of the OP.

The next shot is the MLA, which lasts about 5 seconds. Ok, perfect. Not too long, but also not short enough to be confusing. It cuts away a little fast once the dude on the far left appears, but does anyone actually know who that is? No, seriously, I’m asking. I don’t remember his name and he’s not on the wiki, so I can only assume he’s not important. Therefore, it’s not all that bad if the shot cuts away shortly after he comes into frame. The audience is able to take in the scene without having to pause...

... And then the problems start

While this shot is fine in theory, it pans up fast and cuts away quickly. You know how hard it was for me to get this screenshot? Really hard. You want to know why I struggled so much? Because, due to the timing of the cut and the way it pans upwards, it’s almost impossible to pause on Dabi’s face. I literally had to go frame by frame to get it, because he’s in shot for so little time that naturally pausing is guaranteed to miss him.

When watching this in real time (without pausing) the cut away makes you feel as if you missed something because “something was there, I just couldn’t register what because now it’s gone”. Unlike Compress, who wears a very colourful coat you can recognize the entire time, Dabi’s pants are more blended into the background.

It also doesn’t help that this shot is literally composed to draw your attention away from Dabi until the last possible second. Due to framing, your eye is naturally drawn to the brightly coloured Toga in the foreground, making it super easy to miss Dabi in the back (until, of course, his bright face appears and contrasts against the background, drawing your eye just in time for the scene to change, leaving you to wonder who or what you missed).

I know this sounds like nitpicking, but this shot is the only group shot we get of the League, and is also the start of a seriously weird trend for the villains in this OP getting the short end of the stick.

Anyways, then we get what I’ll call “The Carousel Shot” in which every Class 1A kid shows up and poses dramatically, as if they were on a carousel. It’s a lovely sequence and I really enjoy watching it but... why is it in this OP?

Seriously, this is a genuine question. Class 1A barely shows up in the Endeavour Agency Arc, and NONE of the students are in MVA. This sequence (not counting the three boys at the end) lasts 8 seconds. Why is this much time dedicated to characters who are barely in the arc? (Unless Studio Bones extends their work studies into fuller plot lines which oh my gosh please don’t do that, or if they do, do it quick).

We then get what I call the “Oh God I Blinked And Missed Everything” sequence, which lasts 3 seconds (not including the longer, moving shot of Shigaraki at the end) and features NINE INDIVIDUAL IMAGES, none of which are related to each other. Not only is this 3 images per second, but the fact that they are all unrelated means you can’t even use previous information to fill in the blanks.

What do I mean by that? Well, imagine if I show you 9 images of various pro heroes posing. If I play that in 3 seconds you’ll absolutely miss some of them, but as long as you catch some you’ll still get an idea of what I’m trying to show to you. Your brain is able to fill in the gaps that “I recognized 4 pro heroes, therefore the rest must have also been pros” even if you didn’t register every single frame.

That doesn’t work if every frame features a completely different subject. The shots in this sequence vary so widely that it’s impossible to find a through line. Some feature multiple characters, some feature one, some are closeups, some are super far away, some are character’s we know, others are characters we don’t. It’s impossible to get a solid read on what you’re being shown.

Now, again, there’s nothing wrong with these super quick shots... in theory. The problem comes from the fact that these shots are the only indicators for some of the major themes that will be explored during this Cour (like Twice’s growth and young Shigaraki).

That being said, let’s move away from criticism and talk about speculation, because hidden amongst this sequence are two... interesting images.

This All Might one is very reminiscent of the shot in Chapter 257, where Aizawa and All Might have a conversation while staring up at the stars. However, this is technically the start of the “War Arc” (or the “prologue”, if that’s what you want to call it), so this might indicate that we’re going to get farther into the series than a lot of us guessed.

(Many people suspected we’d get to that cliffhanger at the start of the season (if you read the manga you know the one), but after seeing the pacing for JT a lot of us assumed we’d be lucky to even finish Endeavour Agency. It seems we’re back to the cliffhanger now though lol).

This is another really interesting shot because it’s indicative of Shirakumo, meaning we might get to see Aizawa and Mic confront him some time this Cour (this also makes sense, since this confrontation technically happens before that All Might scene I mentioned in the previous paragraph).

But the cat specifically is a really strange addition. That cat is named Sushi and, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think Sushi is ever mentioned in the main series. I think he’s only in Vigilantes.

This might just be a little Easter Egg for Vigilante readers, but I’m personally hoping that they’ll add at least a few Vigilante shots in there to really tug at the heart strings. I’d say I want a whole Vigilante episode but I don’t think they have the time (unless they really cram MVA, which I do NOT want).

I don’t have much to say about the last bit of the OP. The action shot between the 3 boys was nice, and it follows the sort of narrative through line they established from the early shot of them sitting at the sunset. I also like the shot of Endeavour fading in to replace All Might, even if it’s very simple.

But I want to talk about an overarching problem I touched upon earlier in that villain shot: the way the villains are handled in this OP.

This is a good OP... in theory. The problem is, it doesn’t represent half the arcs in the cour! Every shot of the League is so rushed that you can barely register that they were on screen before they’re gone.

I have no idea how many Episodes Endeavour Agency will take, but I’d assume 3 (4 if you count the Christmas episode). 12 episodes for this Cour minus 3 for Endeavour Agency = 9 episodes left. If we truly do get the prologue for the War Arc (and if we assume it’s only 1 episode) that leaves us with 8 villains episodes.

8/12 episodes (aka two thirds of the Cour) will likely be about the villains. And yet they’re pushed to the background so hard in this OP.

I want to dream, and I want to believe that this OP is going to magically change when MVA starts. The song fits super well, and I can imagine like an inversion of the OP but from the Villain side! Wouldn’t that be neat? Imagine right after the “it’s alright” part Shigaraki just freaking decays the title card... oh man that would be so cool. But, alas, I highly doubt they’d do that.

Side rant, but you know what was so fun about MVA in the manga? It’s that, for 21 chapters, we leave the kids behind and the villains become our protagonists. Suddenly Shigaraki is the one we’re rooting for, suddenly we’re learning backstories for everyone, and suddenly we find ourselves just as attached to the villains as we are to the kids. It’s an inversion that’s SO RARE to find, and I think many people (myself included) were hoping it would be reflected in the OP.

A big part of being the protagonist means featuring heavily in the OP, and a lot of us just wanted the villains to get that honour, even if only once. As is, the OP still treats them as the antagonists when... really they aren’t. Not right now, at least.

So yeah, final thoughts on the OP are that it’s good, it’s just not very representative of the arcs it’s supposed to cover. If this was just for Endeavour Agency, I’d say it’s actually really cool, but if we assume that this is what will play for the Villain Arc, then it simply doesn’t do it’s job. And it makes me sad to say that because, again, this OP is really well done.

If I had to rate it? Hmmm

If Studio Bones actually grants my wish and creates a different visual for the Villain Arc (while using the same song) and then this version only plays for the Endeavour Agency Arc and the War Prologue? I’d give it an 8/10. It’s really good, but it could use a few more elements that are clearly derived from the Agency Arc (ahem, Todoroki siblings).

But if this is the OP that will play for the entire Cour? a 6.5/10. It’s nice, but it’s not representative of one of the arcs it’s going to cover. And, unlike other arcs like Pro Hero or Summer Exams, the villain Arc is so important and takes up so much time that it honestly feels like a bit of a disservice.

Now for the Ending

I want to say that I appreciate how soft this ending starts. This cour will likely feature a lot of episodes that end on... heavier themes, and I think the sight of peaceful, falling raindrops is the perfect way to let the audience process their emotions before starting the ending in earnest.

The song itself is very nice, and I like that it’s a bit slower than the more recent endings.

(Side note, but the FUNNIEST moment in the entire series is when Sir Nighteye dies because it’s so emotional and everyone is standing around his bed in his heartwrentching silence, only for the ending to come BLARING IN out of no where. If you forgot how jarringly hilarious it was, go listen to the Eri ending and tell me that’s not the funniest thing this series ever did. Anyways yeah I’m glad that’s not gonna happen this Cour).

This ending is a bit all over the place in terms of it’s visuals, but honestly I think it works. Most endings usually have a theme tying them together (all the Class 1A girls, a fantasy AU, old photographs, planning a party, etc) but this ending’s theme is a bit harder to identify.

That being said, I think it’s just supposed to show everyone going about their day. It’s calm, it’s peaceful, and it’s just very sweet to think about

I like this shot. Actually, scratch that, I like this whole sequence. I enjoy anything that allows Class 1A to chill and have fun.

Hawks is featured quite heavily in this ending which, fair. He’s pretty important in this arc.

I really love the shot where Endeavour immediately switches to Hawks, I thought that was a lot of fun, and very good symbolism on how Hawks wants to be like Endeavour. I also love all the shots of Baby Hawks, because it’s adorable.

Something about this shot is just so cute. It’s the little domestic things like waiting for a bus that make this ending feel... idk the word, real? It shows a side of the characters that we’ll never see in the episodes, but we know have to exist.

Like yes, of course the kids have to wait for the bus. We never see it, but of course there are those moments of quiet. Agh, I love it.

The villains also make an appearance and I’m very happy about that (I’d love to see more of the villains just chilling around, I think they deserve it). I kind of wish they weren’t sitting in a dark room for the sake of being edgy, since I think it would be nice to see the villains just... sort of existing, but honestly it’s still a nice shot. I also like how this shot sort of mirrors the first one with Class 1A (someone coming in while everyone else is sitting and waiting for them).

That being said, as much as I love looking at Dabi and his stupid face (affectionate)... why is Dabi the one getting the closeup?

Mind you, endings don’t need to be connected to their Cours (they can be, like the Eri one, but they don’t have to be). But this ending does seem to be connected to the arcs it intends to cover, given all the Hawks appearances, the boys wearing their work study scarves, etc.

So, I ask again, why Dabi? Out of the six League members, we learn the backstory for four of them in this arc (Shigaraki, Toga, Twice, and we very briefly learn about Spinner). The only two left out are Dabi and Compress.

I can only assume they chose Dabi because he’s constantly in contact with Hawks, and therefore that makes him important? If the OP told us anything, it’s that Bones values the Endeavour Agency Arc over the Villain Arc lol...

... Oh my gosh please tell me that’s not actually the reason Dabi is focused on here BONES WAI-

Anyways, the ending comes to a close with Hawks watching over the kids and Endeavour. The relaxing time is done, it’s time for work studies.

Overall impression? It’s great. It’s hard to screw up an ending, so as long as you have something pretty on screen, it’s wonderful.

I’ll give this a 9/10

#bnha #bnha season 5 #dabi #keigo takami #bnha season five #katsuki bakugo #shoto todoroki #mha season 5 #mha season five #bnha op #bnha opinions #izuku midoriya #bnha hawks #ok to reblog #actually yes please do reblog if you found this interesting #I worked hard on it

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peach-the-owl · 3 years

Note

Hello! Hope you are having a wonderful day! May I request for a scenario Caleb with a child!Magical!Reader (wizard/Sorcerer) where they meet Astrid & Eodwulf. Maybe the child gets lost and is found by Caleb's old school friends. All the while Caleb & the rest of the M9 are trying to find them while the child is with Astrid & Eodwulf.

Interesting. They might be a little OOC, idk, but I tried my best. I hope you still enjoy 😁

Lost in the City

Astrid & Eodwulf & Child!Magical!Reader

A bit of Caleb & Child!Reader

Rexxentrum was a huge city and very easy to get lost in if you’re not paying attention, which is exactly what happened to you. You swear you’d only looked away from the group for like 5 seconds and yet here you were alone amongst the busy streets. You remembered being told that if you ever got lost to stay where you were and they’d eventually find you, so you back up closer to a building and sit down against the wall. You didn’t know how long you’d have to wait for them to find you but you were already getting really bored, resorting to playing around with your own magic to help pass the time.

"Are you lost little one?" You hear a woman ask. You look up to see two individuals looming over you, one being a man with a stoic expression and the other being a woman, who most likely asked the question.

"I… well… ummm…" You fumble with your words shyly, what where you supposed to say to these strangers, you settle with just nodding your head.

"I see. That was some fine hand work with your magic, where did you learn to do that?" She sounded curious, but you also caught onto hints of caution and sternness in her voice as well.

"I have a really good teacher, but I wasn’t paying attention and now I lost them." You still fumble around your words a bit, trying to answer the previous question and explain your situation all at once.

"Perhaps we could help you locate them." The woman offers. You scratch at the back of your head in an unsure manner.

"I don’t know, I’m not really supposed to go with strangers."

"Well then let’s get to know each other a little, my name's Astrid. It’s a pleasure to meet you…" Astrid places a hand to her chest when introducing herself then gestures to you as her sentence trails off.

"My name's (y/n)." You finish for her with a small smile.

"(Y/n)." She repeats, she then gestures over to the man next to her. "This is my colleague…" She pauses again and stares at the man next to her.

"Eodwulf." He reply’s softly, making you strain your ears to try and hear him.

"It’s nice to meet you Ms. Astrid and Mr… Edgewolf?" You say questioningly, checking to make sure you got the names right. Astrid let’s out a cough into her fist to mask a small laugh that tried to surface while "Edgewolf" stares at you and sighs.

"It’s Eodwulf." He says more clearly this time, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. You nod and notice the fancy patterns that run up his arms making you point at them.

"What’re those designs on your arms for?" Your comment makes Eodwulf pull away his arm to stare at the line work, Astrid pulls up the sleeve of her outfit to reveal to you that she too has similar designs on her own arms.

"These tattoos help us to use powerful magic." She explains as simply as possible. You practically get stars in your eyes out of curiosity.

"Powerful magic? Can I see!? Can I see!?" You bounce a bit, with your position on the ground it wasn’t all that comfortable but you didn’t care that mush. The two look at each other a moment before Astrid gives a subtle nod and turns back to you.

"We can show a few of our tricks but not here, we'll need to go somewhere less public." She offers.

"Oh," you fidget a little nervously again. "I'm not really supposed to leave until my friends find me."

"You said you couldn’t go with strangers, but you know me and Eodwulf now, right?" You nod slowly at her. "Rexxentrum is a very large city, so it could take a long time for your friends to find you. If you travelled with us we can help you look for them or you might run into them sooner, if not we can always come back here to wait for them." You think on this a little, Astrid's reasoning sounding very convincing to you, so you look back at her with a large smile and give a nod. Astrid then offers out her hand for you to take which you happily accept, getting up off the ground and having her lead you to a different area.

After a good while of walking and searching, with no results, you’re brought to an open area that was defiantly made for training purposes. Astrid pulls you off to the side a good distance away for you to watch. You stare amazed at the display of power between the two, both very concentrated on each spell they decide to preform. When they’re done you’re left jaw dropped and clap for them amazed.

"That was so cool! You guys are like walking weapons!" You cheer for them.

"We are, aren’t we." Eodwulf straightens himself out a little, a proud smirk on his face at your compliment.

"I want to be super strong like that one day! Then I can protect everyone from the bad guys." You say with invigorated determination for the future.

"With how well you can control your spells now, I think if you keep it up you’ll surely be just as powerful, if not more so when you’re older." Astrid gives you a side smile. You giggle with delight, then stop when you hear you stomach give a loud grumbling sound.

"Ummm…" You blush a little embarrassed. "I’m hungry."

"Then it’s lucky for you we don’t have any jobs to do at the moment. Why don’t we head over to the market and buy something to eat, maybe we'll even run into the people you’re looking for there."

"That’s really nice of you Ms. Astrid, are you sure it’s okay?" You look up at her with big curious eyes and she simply nods. The three of you make your way over to the market, you skipping ahead occasionally but not too far as to not get lost again.

"Are you sure we should be watching this child?" Eodwulf leans in closer to Astrid so only she could hear him.

"They may be a mere child, but they have strong potential to them." She whispers back. "Besides, their innocent excitement is a refreshing change of pace. Don’t you agree?" She quietly adds, Eodwulf nods after a moment of processing her words. At this point you hop up to the two of them again.

"Swing me!" You blurt out to Eodwulf. He stares at you confused, unsure what to do.

"I don’t…" His words trail off as he continues to stare.

"All you have to do is hold you hands, lift me up and I can swing back and forth from the momomtime." You try to explain, not knowing how to properly say momentum. Eodwulf turns to look at Astrid, who just raises an amused eyebrow wanting to see where this goes. He sighs softly before complying to your wishes, you swing your dangling legs around a bit to build up enough momentum to fling yourself out of his grip and safely land on the ground in front of him. "Again! Again again!" You happily chirp.

"Fine, but this is the last one." He tells you… You end up convincing him to swing you around about 15 more times, though you were pretty sure he secretly liked doing it. The last few times Astrid got herself involved too, both of them taking one of your hands in there’s and lifting you up to swing as you all continued to make your way to a marketplace.

"Something smells delicious." You comment, feeling your stomach growl at you again. You sit down at a bench with Astrid while Eodwulf handles grabbing something for the three of you to eat.

"Why don’t you tell me more about your magic (y/n)." Astrid starts.

"There’s not a lot to say, I’ve been practicing a lot but I’m not very good at the big spells yet so I try to stick to the little ones." You reply, waving your hand around and casting Mage Hand making it float around in circles before dismissing the spell.

"Still, someone your age being able to cast spells this quickly, as small as they may be, is quite an accomplishment. You must have a very good teacher."

"Yeah, he’s the best, everyone is." You give a wide smile.

"I just realized, you never gave us the names of the people we should be searching for. I can’t believe I just let that information slip by." Astrid says, the last part more to herself.

"Oh! There-"

"I’m back." Eodwulf interrupts you before you can finish, holding a box of sweet buns for the three of you to share. Quickly forgetting what you were about to say you happily take one and chow down, savouring the sweet taste.

"That was really good, thank you Mr. Eodwulf." You thank once you were done the sweet buns. You all get up and start to make your way around the market when a man dashes out of a side street a few feet away from you. You recognize them instantly. "Caleb!" You call to him happy to finally see a familiar face again. He whips around in your direction and for a moment he has a look of relief on his face, his gaze shifts up a bit and the relief turns quickly into fearful shock when he sees the people you’re with.

"You know this man?" Astrid asks, sounding surprised.

"Of course I do, that’s one of the friends I was looking for." You reply, completely unaware of the tension that arose between the three.

"(Y/n)," Caleb starts slowly, regaining your attention. "Come here please." He ushers you over, not breaking eye contact with his old classmates once.

"Thanks again for everything." You quickly say to the two before walking over to Caleb, who immediately pulls you behind him once you were within arms reach of him and takes a defensive pose.

"It’s been a while Bren." Astrid speaks slowly and in a lower voice then when she interacted with you. You tilt your head confused, wondering why she just called Caleb by a different name.

"Do you three know each other?" You ask, trying to figure out what was going on.

"It’s a long story, I’ll explain later." Caleb quickly brushes you off slowly backing the two of you away from Astrid and Eodwulf.

"That child you have there," Caleb pauses slightly at her words. "There something special. I’d keep a very close eye on them from now on if I were you." She subtly advises. Caleb looks at you a moment then back at Astrid.

"I plan to." Is all he says before the two of you finally walk off, most likely to rejoin the rest of the Nein.

"It was Bren all along." Eodwulf breaths, still a bit surprised about the encounter.

"It seems so." Astrid says blankly.

"What shall we tell Trent?" Eodwulf asks cautiously, looking at Astrid. She turns so that the two are staring into each other’s eyes, a stern look on her face.

"We don’t." Is all she replies with before the two make their way back through the market.

Bonus:

Earlier/elsewhere in the city while you were having a lovely day…

"Where's (y/n)?" Caleb asks the group, already starting to panic.

"Didn’t Jester say she was taking them to the pastry shop with her?" Beau asks.

"What?! No, I was going with Nott. I thought you and Yasha were taking them around the market." Jester retorts.

"We lost our child!" Nott cry's out.

"It’s okay, all we have to do is look for them in the last place we saw them right?" Jester brings up trying to calm everyone’s nerves down.

"Jester's right," Fjord jumps in, "we just need to make a plan to search for them, what do you say Caleb?…… Caleb?" They all look over to see that Caleb had already run off to start searching.

"Oh boy, this is… this isn’t good. Do we wait for him to… should we follow?" Caduceus questions. After a short debate they all head out to now look for you and Caleb.

#critical role #critical role & reader #mighty nein #the mighty nein #mighty nein & reader #caleb widogast #caleb & reader #astrid #astrid & reader #eodwulf #eodwulf & reader #npc appreciation month #nothing romantic here

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 23

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, car accident

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Thank you for continuing to read this! If you enjoyed it, please reblog it so others can see and leave me feedback or send me an ask! I love to read your thoughts about this couple and their world <3 :)

; Flower Masterpost

"You're cute. Aren't you so cute. Yes you are!" Hoseok coos to the little girl on the floor in front of him. He's sitting cross legged while the nine-month old baby girl is laid on a play mat in front of him, giggling wildly as your boyfriend tickles her stomach with fingers and a beaming smile.

Even for someone who has zero interest in ever having kids, even you can't deny the flutter of interest you experience as you watch him. His tattoos are prominent beneath his short sleeved tee, black hair pushed back and from this angle you can see his lip ring too. Everything that makes him look big and intimidating to those who don't know him.

And yet there he is, completely taken by little Hana in a yellow and white dress with cute bees sewn all over it. Which is nothing compared to the adorably high pitched voice he’s talking to her with, very reminiscent of how he talks to Kasumi.

You look over at Amelia, the mommy of said little girl, and smile at her in amusement at Hoseok's antics. Despite having met his friends a few times over the months, this was the first time that you’d actually met and talked to Amelia. Her late term pregnancy had prevented it initially, and then after that it had been that she’d been too busy taking care of Hana.

Namjoon had been missing frequently in the past nine months as well, but you knew that Hoseok thought very highly of Amelia and approved of her for his oldest friend. Which meant that you'd been a little worried that she wouldn't like you or anything. Especially when you found out that Hana would be here too.

"He adores her," Amelia says with a grin, nodding over at the two and you take a moment to simply watch as Hoseok lifts Hana up and holds her in his arms. "Uncle Hobi, he was so excited when we told him that we were pregnant."

"He's good with her." You say simply, continuing to watch him and feeling the ever familiar pang of anxiety run through you. He is good with her. Maybe too good, and you suddenly worry that maybe he wants kids in the future.

You'd put on the app that you didn't, but that hadn't been a question that Hoseok's profile showed. And it simply hadn't come up since. Mainly because...well you just didn’t think about kids. They never entered your head because you had zero interest in them. Now suddenly, you were realising that maybe that had been a faux pas.

Given that he was the only child of his parents now, it would make sense for him to want kids. Carry on his family name, pass on his heritage and give his parents grandchildren that they could dote on and love upon. He was the only one left in his family to do that after all. And he was evidently good with them, as you could see.

Would he be angry when he found out you never wanted them? Maybe even break up with you? Kids were a deal breaker, you knew that.

You would never agree to them. The maternal instinct that some women had, like Amelia had, just didn’t exist in you. You never looked at a child or baby and thought about wanting one in the future. Instead, you just looked at them and shuddered at the very thought. The idea of having to spend eighteen years minimum raising another person was horrifying to you.

All the money that you could’ve used for vacations or things you enjoyed gone, the time you could’ve spent on yourself or with your partner, gone. There was nothing worse you could personally imagine, not to mention the fact that you just didn’t like kids. You didn’t get on with them, you didn’t understand them, they were germ machines and you always wanted to cringe when you saw parents cleaning up the bodily fluids, and more, that kids produced.

As a result, you’d decided many years ago that being a parent simply wasn’t for you and it was never going to be for you. Not only did you have no interest, but you didn’t want to bring a child into the world just because you felt pressured from your partner. You didn’t like kids, but that didn’t mean you felt it was fair for a kid to grow up knowing their mother never wanted them.

Uneasiness bubbled as you silently watched him, potential futures shattering in your mind already. You're distracted though by Amelia's hand as it rests on your arm lightly, the shriek of annoyance from Jimin's fiance, Eden, causing you to jerk in alarm as you’re brought out of your reverie.

"You can hold her if you want. I don't mind. She's very sociable. I think I got lucky with one of those blessedly sweet babies." She has an endearing look on her face that softens into that look of pure love that parents get for their kids. You wonder what it is about babies that does that to some people.

Brow rising, you look back and watch Hana closely for a moment. She's fully delighted by the playfulness of your boyfriend and you smile at her bright grin, noting for a moment how much she looks like her dad. His little girl was going to grow up with his dimples at the very least.

"Ah...don't take this the wrong way, but I don't really...get along with kids. She's cute though. I’m just...not comfortable?" You add on hastily, raising a hand to try and ward off any anger that Amelia might feel towards your comment. Parents got funny when people said they didn't like kids, as if it were a personal insult or something.

There were certainly kids out there that you would happily turn it into an insult, but Hana was too adorable for that. Even if you were slightly endeared by her, but you had no intention of getting close to her.

"Oh? Not a kid person?" Amelia grins broadly, hand covering her mouth as she lets out a laugh that's soft. Her husband appears suddenly, resting a hand on her shoulder before kissing her forehead gently and sitting next to her.

He gives you a polite smile and nod of the head before looking between you both with a questioning glance. "You don't like kids?"

The question is a bit louder than you would have liked, and you feel the familiar rush of heat and sickness as all attention moves to you. Oh no, this was not how you wanted Hoseok to find out. Or anyone. Like you said, people got funny about stuff like this.

It was even worse in this environment, as Hoseok was having to find out your complete lack of interest in children in front of all of his friends. This could be his relationship literally falling apart while they watched on.

Swallowing thickly, your hands play nervously together as you look between them all before giving a weak smile. "I mean...I d-don't hate them. I just...it's hard to explain. I don't...I cant get along with them. I don't...know how to get on their level. I feel stupid playing, I just cant do it and...well it makes me uncomfortable to try."

There's silence for a moment, broken only by the gurgling laughter of Hana and you slowly look up at Hoseok, dread coursing through your body. Only he's not looking at you in disgust.

The crease between his brows says something else entirely, and you watch as he shuffles over, Hana still firmly in his arms before he rests a hand on your knee and gives you a warm smile. His hand is hot on you, yet the reassurance he sends silently makes your eyes sting with unwashed tears as you look down.

"There's nothing wrong with that. It's the 21st century. Some people want to be parents and some don't. Don't feel ashamed of it! Own it. I wanted kids but power to you if you don't." Amelia said with a bright grin, arms held out as she accepts her daughter once more.

"Yeah, think of all the vacations we can go on. Games we can buy, cats...other stuff I can't think of." Hoseok's nose wrinkles as he tries to think and you let out a soft breath of laughter, running your fingers through his hair.

His hand squeezes slightly and you smile in gratitude, recognising that there's probably going to be a conversation about this later. Which is fine. It's something that you'd expect and you wouldn't want to leave him unsure as to where he stood in regards to this.

Looking back at Amelia and Hana, you can't help the soft laugh that leaves you as you watch Namjoon pull faces at his daughter. The man is the loving example of a gentle giant and your experience in his presence previously has shown you that he can be just a little bit of a klutz. He's awfully sweet though, with a bashful smile and always willing to help no matter what it is.

You think Amelia got a good one there, watching them both grin at each other as Hana let out a high pitched giggle that had all of you smiling. They made a great family, and you looked down at Hoseok to see him watching them both too.

Feeling your gaze on him, he looks up and runs his hand along your thigh slowly. It's not a sexual gesture, purely comforting and you relax into his touch. In response, you continue to comb your fingers through his thick, dark hair and enjoy the way he leans into you, a quiet hum leaving him.

"Don't worry though. I may not be comfortable with kids but I do recognise when they're cute. And Hana is adorable, she really is." You say to them as you turn back, watching as their faces light up with parental pride. It was funny how easy it was to boost the ego of a parent. Just compliment their child and it's like they've won the lottery.

Not that you were doing it purely to appease them. You were being honest. You hated being around kids, despised the mess they made, but it didn't stop you from occasionally finding babies and young kids cute. They had their sweet moments, but you'd never be convinced to have one.

Kasumi was more than enough for you. Although maybe another cat...or two.

Namjoon thanks you quietly, his eyes focused on Hana as he takes her and rests her on his chest. She's nine months old, which means that she's not exactly small anymore. And yet she looks tiny in his arms.

You can't help but coo at the sight, causing Hoseok to snort at you. He just shakes his head in amusement when you scowl down at him, kissing your knee affectionately with a bright smile and you flick his ear softly. You may not have any inclination to have kids but dammit, there was something about seeing big, attractive men holding babies that was appealing.

"It'll be Jimin and Eden's turn next!" Jungkook chortles from the floor, his phone firmly in his hand as he plays some stupid game on it. The couple in question both turn and give him a glare, Eden even going so far as to give a slight hiss at the younger man.

"Shut up Kook. He's gotta marry me first. And then I need that promotion. Or a pay rise. With the way my job is going, the planet will have died by the time that happens." She grumbles, poking at Jimin's side and grinning as he lets out a high pitched giggle, body folding over until he almost falls off his seat.

“I’m gonna make the cutest babies though. Watch out everyone. When you look as cute as me, you’ve got no chance.” Jimin says when he finally stops, laughter makes his voice breathy before he looks at everyone and smiles sweetly, pressing a finger into the dimple of each cheek. Smiling, you can’t help but acknowledge that he really is cute.

But it evidently doesn’t go that way with his friends though. Hoseok starts it, making an overly exaggerated retching noise and holding his throat before he pretends to gag repeatedly. This is then followed by Jungkook and Taehyung imitating him while Yoongi sniggers to the side, hand pressing into his mouth to hide his gummy smile.

“Excuse me, but I think you’ll find that Namjoon evidently makes the cutest babies out of you all. And there’s proof right here.” Amelia interrupts their hijinks with a smug smile, leaning against Namjoon and looking down at Hana with an equally soft and fond look.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone looks at each other before Seokjin snorts, rolling his eyes and leaning back. “Well, that’s not fair is it? You can’t use physical proof when none of us have had a chance to prove you wrong. And anyway, as the most handsome member of this entire friend group...I think you’ll find the cutest baby award is going to go to me and my future beau.”

“Shut up Seokjin.” Yoongi says bluntly, causing everyone to laugh at the sudden rebuke to Seokjin’s burst of confidence. Over the months being with Hoseok, you’d come to know his friends personalities a little more and you still found it fascinating that they all worked well with each other. Seokjin in particular was fascinating, with his seemingly never ending reservoir of self-confidence boosting him through any awkward situations.

Though you had more than a slight suspicion that he wasn’t actually that big headed or confident, but you knew that some people believed it was good to fake it till you make it. And he seemed to be doing well, so you certainly were not going to be the one to call him out on that. If anything, you admired him and wished that you had the courage to be that bold.

The conversation carries on after that, meandering through a ridiculous number of topics. You’d become used to it by this point and if anything, your own random nature when it came to conversation helped to increase the absurdity of what you talk about. Which is why you all end up discussing what kind of fantasy world you wish you could actually live in.

You’d maintained that it would be cool to be able to have magic and dragons, but then Seokjin had pointed out that you’d probably end up like an NPC in Skyrim and get eaten or randomly killed in some stupid accident. That had slightly altered your opinion, though you’d pointed out that you’d obviously be the hero of the story.

It had been firmly abandoned though when Hoseok had told you that it would mean no electricity, no running water and no internet. Which meant no Netflix, no toilets and no showers. That had made you pause more than anything, causing your eyes to widen and face to grimace until he was laughing hard.

You could handle no Netflix, they’d have books after all, but no toilets and showers is most certainly a no in your view. Which is why you swiftly change worlds to a science fiction world instead. Toilets, showers, internet and more in that world.

Throughout all of the conversations though, you could tell that Hoseok was happy and content with his situation. He spent most of the time leaning against your legs while you played with his hair, running your fingers through the soft black strands affectionately and enjoying how his mere presence had become such a calming influence on you.

Unfortunately though, over the months of dating him you’d discovered that while he loved having his hair played with, it was also a quick way to get him drowsy. Which was why his head was resting against your thigh heavily, his responses getting slower every time.

Bending over until your lips are brushing against that soft hair, you kiss his temple before running your fingers over his forehead. “Hey...do you want to go? You’re practically falling asleep.”

There’s no response for a second before Hoseok murmurs, stretching out and making the strangest noises as he does so, his arms pushing out before he sits back bonelessly and looks back up at you. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

You’d both spent a few hours out and it was a novel concept for you to be the one asking Hoseok if he wanted to leave. Even more novel that he’d said yes, but you didn’t point that out, instead just saying your goodbyes to everyone and waiting for Hoseok to say his own before heading out.

Getting into your car, you turn on the engine and wait for him to finish belting himself in before smiling over at him. You’d driven over this time and you were both going back to your place for the night, letting Hoseok have the novelty of being a passenger. Apparently he’d been the designated driver for most events for years now, wanting to make sure everyone else was taken care of if they were going somewhere that required someone to drive.

It felt nice, normal even as you drove back home. Namjoon and Amelia lived around 20 minutes away from your apartment, meaning that you both got to enjoy the peace of just listening to music. The playlist was now an odd mix of metal, pop and indie. When it had become apparent that your relationship was getting more serious, and the two of you spent more time in a car together, you’d both spent a good two hours bickering over what should be on the official ‘driving playlist’ that you now both had on your Spotify accounts.

Some of the songs he endured, Hoseok really was not a fan of Ariana Grande or Ed Sheeran, whereas some of the songs you grit your teeth through. You could probably happily go the rest of your life never listening to another Metallica song.

Which you were convinced personally offended Hoseok on an atomic level.

But you put up with it for him, because he put up with your music too. Even sang along on occasion. He just had to have a lovely singing voice too, but he’d complimented your own many times when you’d sung under your breath quietly.

Despite that, you bite your lip as your fingers tap on the steering wheel, not even taking in the sounds of Ed Sheeran crooning through the speakers. His car was newer than yours, but you still found her reliable. Even if she occasionally seemed to be on the brink of breaking down.

That’s not what you’re thinking about though. Instead...it’s the conversation from earlier in the day that won’t leave your mind. The conversation about children. Hoseok had taken your admission well, but part of you wondered if that was just because he was surrounded by his closest friends and he didn’t want to start something that could potentially be an argument.

But you wanted to make sure. You wanted to have a serious conversation with him about it. Children were a big thing, an important thing to think about in relationships and they changed lives. They cost money and time and affection, and you knew that relationships in which one person saw children in their future and the other didn’t wouldn’t work out well.

If Hoseok genuinely wanted kids, then you just couldn’t see the relationship going any further. And despite as strongly as you felt for him already, you just couldn’t put yourself through the pain of falling further for him only to know that he would want something you couldn’t give him. Wouldn’t give him.

Because there was nothing that would get you to have kids. Not even Hoseok.

You needed to talk with him, even if the very thought of it terrifies you. Because you didn’t have intimate, deep conversations like this with people most of the time. And the idea of him saying something that you wouldn’t agree with was painful. You’d gotten so comfortable with him, the possibility of him not being there anymore was already hurting your chest.

“So...err...earlier...I mean...you know when you were playing...with Hana,” You start, gripping the wheel tighter as you start to feel hot yet cold at the same time. Licking your lips, you swallow again and wish you had a drink suddenly. “And I..err..I said that...about kids. Erm, I need...I want...I mean...do you want kids?”

The question is almost meek after all the stopping and starting you’d just done, coming out quick yet fast as you almost hope he doesn’t hear. But he does. You can tell he does by the way he looks at you, glancing at him quickly out of the corner of your eye before turning back to face the road.

He takes a deep breath before taking your free hand, twining your fingers and stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. You’re thankful that he’s obviously taking this seriously and not just blurting out an answer he thinks you might want, or just blurting out something without considering what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry you had to say that in front of them all. You shouldn’t have had to explain that. I felt bad that you were put on the spot like that. But to answer you...no I don’t want kids. And I was actually super fucking relieved when you said you don’t want them either.” Silence falls between you then, only the soft music filtering through the speakers and the engine of the car audible.

He doesn’t want kids. Hoseok doesn’t want kids either. You don’t want them. Your futures were actually compatible with each other. For a few moments, your mind shorts out almost as you consider that.

“Why?” Falls from your lips before you realise, and you widen your eyes immediately after, glancing at him with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer if it’s personal. Ignore m-”

“It’s okay. I think my girlfriend is definitely the one person I can explain why I don’t want kids. Your reason is perfectly fine by the way, I’m being serious. There’s nothing wrong in just not wanting to be a parent. I don’t hugely get the fascination in losing all my time and money and energy onto this tiny person who suddenly becomes the most important person in your life. They’re cute to me, and I love being around them but...no. It’s not for me.” He pauses, running his fingers over his lips slowly before sighing.

“I wish I could just say I don’t like kids. But honestly I love them. And maybe in another life I’d have loved to be a dad. Not now though. Not ever. I can’t...I can’t invest that much of myself in someone that’s half me. That level of love and sacrifice that parents put into their kids...that terrifies me.” You can tell he looks over at you then and you squeeze his hand, understanding him but unsure why he’s so worried about it still.

“I mean...I think most people feel like that right? And most parents don’t regret it. Maybe you’d be a great dad and you’d love it?” Why you’re trying to talk him into kids suddenly is beyond you, but you don’t want him to feel like his choice has been stifled by you.

“I know most don’t regret it. But then some do. From what you’ve said...I think you could end up in that category and I couldn’t ask that of you. I might be wrong obviously. No...I never want kids, because I just...can’t handle that. That’s too much of myself I have to invest and...and if it all goes wrong then I just...I don’t know how people do it.” You know what he’s talking about then, the reason behind why his voice goes so husky suddenly.

His sister.

“You’re talking about your sister, aren't you?” He doesn’t answer for a moment, just strokes your hand before sighing deeply. It’s an even deeper sigh than before, and you ponder for a moment over the fact that you’ve never seen or heard Hoseok sounding so unsure or...sad.

“Yeah. I mean...she was my sister, and that completely ruined my world for years afterwards. I don’t...I don’t know how my parents did it. You put so much love into a child, you spend nine months waiting for them and then you spend years helping them to grow, watching them take their first words, first steps, first laugh, smile and so much more. And then there’s a chance that it’s all gone, in an instant. Because of a drunk driver, or they stepped out into the road, or...a completely random occurrence. Then you have nothing. Nothing but...pain and hurt and loss and grief. And it’s a pain that doesn’t go away. My mom cries every year on her birthday, at Christmas and on the anniversary of her death. It hurts her just as much now as it did then.” He pauses for a moment, sniffling and you realise quietly that he’s crying.

Carefully, you don’t look at him because you know it’ll set you off too. And you really can’t be having that while you’re driving, so instead you just squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“I know that the only reason she carried on is because they had me. But then I think that no matter what they say, they must have had moments of anger as to why I was still here and she wasn’t. They wouldn’t mean it obviously, I know that. But I got to grow up and do everything my sister never got the chance to. I can’t do that. I can’t risk that. And I know the chances are slim...but tell that to my parents. I’m being selfish, but I don’t want to put myself through the risk of that pain. I have no interest in it. So you’re good with me sweetheart. We’ll live a good life with cats and dogs. It hurts less when they go.” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s giving you a smile, and you smile yourself despite the tears that slowly fall at his words.

The pain in his voice tells you that despite what he’s said, despite the therapy he’d undergone and the acceptance he’d had years ago, the death of his sister still hurts. And it has obviously scarred him deeper than anyone else knows. For now, you decide the conversation is over as you don’t want to drag even more bad memories up for him.

“I’m okay with cats and dogs too. Always wanted to be a crazy cat lady.” Laughing lightly, you try to lighten the atmosphere in the car from the dark place you’d accidentally dragged it to. It works, because he lets out a peal of soft laughter that has you smiling happily.

“I’ll be your crazy dog man. Do you want a dog?”

“Maybe. I like cats more.”

“But I love dogs. Think how cute a puppy would be. All small and soft and cute, with tiny barks and so excited to see you.”

“Stop it.”

“With little teeny paws and those big puppy eyes, so desperate to play with you.”

“Hoseok!”

“Okay...be cute though.”

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lezliefaithwade · 3 years

Text

A Breath of Fresh Air

The summer after my first year of theatre school, I was sleeping on the living room floor of my cousin's apartment in Toronto, trying to figure out what to do with my life. My cousin had been an actor before he became a quadriplegic in a car accident, and as I unadvisedly bemoaned my unemployment status, he said something like, "Seriously? You're complaining about your life? Don't make me burst a colostomy bag." He was right, of course. I wasn't in a wheelchair, though I did have a stepmother who had rendered me homeless because of her dislike for me. She was always saying things like, "Your hair can't be as ugly as that hat you're wearing." Or simply refusing to invite me to things like Christmas dinner. I always admired people with families. My boyfriend at the time was one of five kids who were always doing things together. Their house was always full of noise and activities. Even as a shiksa, I felt more at home there than with my stepbrothers and sisters, who never lost an opportunity to point out that I was weird. I wanted to stand up to them, but not wanting to cause my father any grief, I held my tongue and sought refuge elsewhere. It occurred to me that perhaps I was using the theatre as an opportunity to say things through characters that I couldn't find the courage to express myself.

The Toronto Star was still open on the kitchen table, and I rummage through the Want Ads, that dirty part of the newspaper near the back where complete strangers will soon become complete assholes in your life by forcing you to work menial jobs in humiliating uniforms for minimum wage.

"Find anything?" my cousin called from the bedroom, where two attendants helped wash and dress him.

"Social services are advertising for camp councilors to work with emotionally challenged kids."

"Oh yeah," He said. "That might suit you."

I'm not sure I knew what he meant but, I was beginning to think I'd outgrown my welcome. My cousin probably would have encouraged me to join the circus if the option had been available. Knowing my living room days were numbered, I thought it best to make an effort and apply.

I had no experience teaching drama—no experience working with kids and no experience going to or working at a camp. Despite all that, I was hired. It's worth noting that it's probably not a good sign if you get a job with no qualifications whatsoever.

My official position was Drama Councillor, and I prided myself that with only a year and half of theatre training behind me, I was well equipped to help others benefit from the wealth of my experience. I imagined myself, Maria Von Trapp, teaching children how to sing while they looked at me adoringly. Somehow, I conveniently blocked out the rebellious early stages she experienced and skipped straight to the good parts. Also, I might add, forgetting about the Nazis and having to climb over a mountain. Still, visions of me biking around camp with a group of happy campers behind me filled me with a sense of self-satisfaction.

As I packed my knapsack with deet and a secret stash of Twinkies, I thought of how only three weeks earlier I'd been in New York walking through Central Park and savoring Cappuccinos at outdoor cafés on Columbus. Now, here I was, ready for something different. The wilderness, I imagined, would be a welcome change—fresh air and loons instead of smog and sirens. I thought smugly about my classmates sweating behind visors at take-out windows shoveling fries into cardboard cups or wrapping sandwiches in tinfoil. Thumbs up to adventure, I told myself. The fact that I'd never once in my life enjoyed the great outdoors didn't factor into my mind. All of this changed with each accumulated minute of the 391 Kilometer drive north.

It was late afternoon when I arrived at the compound. Overcast, sullen, it was a place so secluded you'd need flares to find it. It had that distinct aura of someplace time forgot. A place left behind and neglected. In the brochure, the sun was shining, flowers filled the meadow, and you could practically hear laughter floating off the page. What I was looking at bore more of a resemblance to a situation in a Stephen King novel where camp councilors discover a pack of hungry teenage zombies have lured them to a seemingly idyllic retreat. Situated right in the heart of black fly country, I spent most of my days swatting insects so big they seem Jurassic.

During our orientation, child care workers warned us that children with mental health needs tend to run away - a lot and to keep strict attendance records and all eyes on them at all times. "These kids are resourceful and clever," they cautioned. I couldn't imagine being so determined you'd risk your life by escaping through the woods that surrounded us, but then again, I'd never been around children who weren't allowed cutlery before either

I shared my cabin with three other women with who I had absolutely nothing in common. Delia, a humorless 27-year-old cooking instructor who answered every question with a monosyllabic grunt, Jennifer, a 26-year old tennis instructor with massive blond ringlets who talked so quickly she sounded like a record on high speed, and an older aboriginal woman named Sunny who made us all dream catchers and offered advice about how to heal ourselves on days when we'd feel spent. "Remember, these kids need us," she said while purifying our cabin with sage. As I glanced around my assigned bunk, taking in the spider webs and loose floorboards, I had that sinking feeling that comes when you know you've made a terrible mistake. Before long, I was eating copious amounts of peanut butter on stale bagels amid a never-ending supply of starch. I'm not sure who thought it was a good idea to feed children with challenges like anxiety, depression, hyperactivity, and eating disorders copious amounts of sugar and carbs. It certainly did nothing to help them or me.

On the first day of class, I sat everyone in a circle. "Welcome to drama class," I said with a smile. "Let's begin by sharing with everyone a little bit about ourselves. Anything at all you'd like us to know?" A hand went up.

"I'm Tracy, and I hate my stupid ass brother. He can go straight to hell."

"Okay," I said, "That's a start. Who's next?"

Another hand. "I'm Jonathan, and this place sucks so much I wish it would burn to the ground!"

"Fair enough. Anyone else?"

"I'm Jo. I'm schizophrenic. So sometimes I'm Rachel and Julia. You'll know the difference because Rachel has a British dialect, and Julia talks slang."

"O-kay." I glanced at the social workers who sat on the edge of the room and looked at me with an expression that basically said, "We can't wait to see what you do next."

"Let's write a play," I suggested. "Write anything you want. Once you're happy with the work, I'll shape it into a cohesive piece that we'll rehearse and then present at the end of the season talent showcase."

The kids liked this idea. The showcase was a big deal. It was an opportunity for them to blow off some steam and express themselves to friends and family in a creative way. My only stipulation was not to use profanity. As the weeks passed, I was impressed with how well they all threw themselves into this project—all except Eric, the oldest boy in my 12 to 15-year-olds. Eric often wandered around the rehearsal space, unfocused and sullen.

"Any ideas for your piece?" I ask, checking in to see if I could help.

"I'm thinking," he'd say and then pace.

With three weeks left in the summer, I took my well-deserved week off to decompress. My boyfriend came up from Toronto and drove me to his parent's house at Post and Bayview, where caterers were preparing the tennis courts for an outdoor party. I walked into his mother's living room, and she gasped. "What happened to you?"

I didn't blame her. I hadn't spent much time looking at a mirror the past four weeks, but one glance at the large one in their bathroom told the full story. My hair was ratty; I had scabs on my knees, bruises on my arms and legs, and I was sunburnt. I was wearing a vintage skirt and blouse that was probably more Value Village than vintage and a pair of worn, scuffed purple moccasins; in essence, I was wearing slippers on my feet.

"Please take her to the mall and at least buy her a pair of shoes," his mother said, handing me her credit card and then rushing off to make sure the stuffed alligator would float in the pool. That week I ate my way through rugelach, hamantaschen, brisket, and bagels while his family watched me with awe and disgust.

Back at camp, the smell of burning insect repellent greeted me along with the news that the sailing and tennis instructors were sacked for disorderly conduct. Never mind, I had renewed energy and a sense of purpose. There were costumes and props to make. Sound and lighting effects to create. And we needed to rehearse. It was only a tiny stage somewhere on a remote camp in Northern Ontario, but the excitement was palpable. I was excited. This would be the best talent show ever, and my kids were going to blow the socks off everyone there!!!

"Eric," I said, "How's your piece coming along?"

"I finished it," he mentioned casually

"That's great. Can I see it?"

"I want to surprise you. You're going to love it, though. I promise."

I patted myself on the back. Eric had a breakthrough. All my encouragement and patience had paid off. Perhaps I'd helped him have a developmental breakthrough.

"Can you tell me what it's about?" I asked.

"The Beatles."

"Great. Okay," and left it at that.

Talent Night arrived along with parents and family friends. The lights dimmed, the kids performed, and the audience enthusiastically applauded as each "Mighty Mite" or "Spirit of Paradise" breezed across the stage, acting out skits about fairies and monsters and assorted escapades. Finally, it was Eric's turn. Out he came, looking serious and theatrical. He cleared his throat and addressed the audience.

"This is called, The Beatles Last Recording Session. By, Me."

Three of his closest camp friends filed out and took a space on the stage. The audience was silent.

There was a dramatic pause, then the piece began.

"Fuck you, Ringo,"

"Fuck you, Paul."

"Fuck you, George."

"Well fuck you, John."

Then they bowed and left the stage.

Personally, I thought it was kind of brilliant. Needless to say, I wasn't showered with accolades about my teaching methods or the effect I had on kids. I left there having no catharsis about mental health except that giving people the opportunity to express themselves without censor is probably a lot healthier than insisting they stay quiet. I admired the honesty displayed in the kid's work. If only, I thought to myself, I could be half as brave. Wasn't that what I was spending time and money learning how to do?

A week after being home, I found myself packing, once more, for school in New York. Our term letters had arrived with instructions on where to buy character shoes, leotards, copies of The Children's Hour, and Death of a Salesman. The camp already felt like it was 391 kilometers away - soon to be 659. My father drove me to the train station with my stepmother beside him; she was there, no doubt, to ensure I boarded.

"You going to be okay?" my father asked, giving me a hug and slipping a $50 bill into my pocket.

"She'll be fine." Elsie chimed in. "You don't have to worry about her. Let's go."

But I wanted my father to worry about me. Not all the time and to the exclusion of all else, but certainly the appropriate fatherly amount.

As I settled myself on the train, I watched my stepmother pull from father from the platform to the car and thought of Eric's brilliant play. Under my breath, I whispered the immortal words of the Beatles, "Fuck you."

#stepmother #mental health #children #young people #summer camp

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deathonair · 5 years

Text

We Fix Space Junk

[ID: We Fix Space Junk logo. A simple yellow rocket ship flying to the right with a grey porthole in the middle; a simple wrench is centered in this hole. The background is a mottled dark blue with small white stars. In bold white capital letters, ‘We Fix’ in the top left corner, with "Space Junk" slanting beneath that to the top right hand corner and "by Beth Crane" in smaller orange capital letters in the bottom right hand corner. A border the color of the title around it all. End ID.]

I’ve listened to: Main seasons, not Marilyn’s Diary episodes

To be aware of: Giant evil corporation, conditions bordering on slavery.

Summary: Samantha Trapp, daughter of one of the richest families in the galaxy, is broken out of prison by her fiancee and smuggled onto an old cargo ship. When her fiancee fails to pay the smuggler fees, Samantha is left to work off her debt, learning mechanics from the cyborg woman who saved her.

Episodes Warnings: S1E1 (dying groans, mentions of blood and murder), S1E3 (sexism, implications of cannibalism, gun fire on air, mentions of human remains), S1E4 (riots on air with screaming, threats of bodily mutilation, graphic discussion of cannibalism and torture), S1E5 (alarms, accidental injury, apparent death on air, surgery), S1E6 (body shaming), S1E7 (heavily features insects with sound effects, eggs implanted into a person, surgery), S1E8 (discussion of murder) S2E1 (brain surgery with sound effects while patient is conscious), S2E2 (choking/oxygen deprivation), S2E4 (violent colonialism), S2E5 (terminal infection but not death on air), S2E6 (politics apocalypse), S2E8 (Gun fire / injury on air)

Transcripts: I have not found free transcripts available yet.

#we fix space junk #if you have any cautions you think might help people enjoy a show please add them #death on air

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iwantthedean · 5 years

Text

A New Fall

Graphic courtesy of @atc74.

Part Five: Empire. Sweet-tart, crisp, juicy.

Summary: Y/N begins to show Jensen the ropes around the farm and town, and a new offer is put on the table. Pairing: None … yet. (But I think we all know where this is going.) Word Count: 2145 Warnings: Set post-Season 15, which I know makes a lot of people sad to think about. Square Filled: This entire series will fill my proposal square for BTZ Bingo.

A/N: Thank you for the continued support! I am loving writing this series :)

Masterlist

Bartholomew Kemp’s office was quickly becoming your least favorite place to visit. Since he had told you that you would have to sell your family’s farm, the bad news had continued to roll your way.

Today, you were visiting after the discussion with your father, letting him know what was going on, that an offer had been made, and that you were likely going to accept it. Your father had cautioned you about accepting the offer, and stated that he would talk to Bartholomew himself. He trusted the old business manager, but he determined that two business minds were better than one. If it meant the slightest possibility that you could keep the place, you were okay with that.

“I’m gathering the paperwork for your father,” Bartholomew informed you, “but in the meantime, you’ve got another, anonymous offer on the property.”

“Another offer?” you frowned. “Why is it anonymous?”

He shrugged. “It came from the bank, and they simply stated that their client wishes to remain anonymous -- they can do that, I suppose.”

You tried for the millionth time not to cry over all of this. “How does it compare to Jensen’s offer?”

“It’s fairly competitive. I’ll send this to your father, and I’ll send copies home for you to look at. How are things going in the meantime?”

“They’re going,” you shrugged. “I -- it’s more personal, I guess, but I made a peace offering to Jensen. He agreed to let me stay through the holidays, although now I guess that depends on which offer we take. In the meantime, I’m going to show him around the place more, how things run and all that. He’s coming over later to help me start prepping for the festival this weekend.”

Bartholomew kept his smile to himself. “Well, that’s a turn of events. Let me make a copy of this, and I’ll send you on your way so you can get ready for company.”

You waited patiently for the necessary documents, wishing with all your might that none of this was actually happening. You were past the stage of believing it had to be a bad dream, but that didn’t stop you from wanting, every now and then, to be past the sale and moving on with your life.

And to add another offer on to the plate? You knew that the land was good, you knew the home was beautiful … you never suspected or expected that there would be more than one offer on the place. As Bartholomew came back with the papers and sent you on your way, you determined that you were going to do some digging and find out who this anonymous buyer was.

* * * * *

Fall Festival preparations started with some simple yard work, Jensen discovered when he arrived at Y/N’s house not long after she had wrapped up her school day. The farmhands would take care of the orchard and the pumpkin patch, for the most part, but she informed Jensen that her family had always done up the house and made it suitable for visitors during the four-day festival.

“There’s half-days at the school Thursday and Friday, since so many families pull their kids out in the afternoon anyway,” Y/N explained while they raked leaves in the front yard. “Friday night is a big chili cook-off, Saturday night is the carnival, and everything wraps up by Sunday afternoon.”

He reached for a sturdy trash bag. Y/N held it open while he started loading in the raked leaves. “Sounds like a good weekend. I’m looking forward to being around for it. Do you get to enjoy much of it?”

Y/N shrugged. “For the most part. I’ll help Kitty at The Farmer’s Stand Thursday and Friday, and Saturday morning, but I always go to the chili cook-off Friday evening. Saturday afternoon we get the most visitors here, so I’ll be around for that. Then the carnival Saturday evening, and puttering around here Sunday.”

Jensen smiled as he dumped more leaves into the bag. He wanted to do things the way she did, wanted to learn how things were done so he wasn’t changing anything if he bought the farm. Maybe part of him wanted to be with her as much as possible, too. He wasn’t sure how to ask to join her without essentially inviting himself, so he kept his mouth shut and helped her finish up with the leaves.

“Now, we bake,” she announced when the bags of leaves were all lined up by the barn. “I took care of the flower beds over the weekend, and I’ll mow when I get home tomorrow.”

Jensen followed her into the house, making sure to wipe his boots on the mat on the back patio. He closed the slider behind him and made a mental note to show up sometime in the morning and do the mowing for her.

He waited patiently while Y/N pulled a myriad of baking supplies down from the cupboards. She was going to make some of everything, she informed him, so that Kitty’s shop could be well-stocked for the weekend.

“Before I go, I’ll type up all these recipes, if you want.” Then, she stopped and frowned. “By the way, have you spoken with Bartholomew recently? Like, today?”

Jensen shook his head and leaned forward on the counter. “No, why?”

“He got another offer on the farm. This person is an anonymous buyer, made their offer through the bank. He said it’s fairly competitive with your offer.”

“I’ll call him in the morning. Which offer do you think you’ll take?”

She looked sadly at her desk and the stack of papers in the middle of it. “I honestly haven’t looked at the new offer yet. For lots of reasons.”

He didn’t have to know her well to know that the subject was upsetting her. Instead of discussing the matter further, he nudged her with his elbow.

“So, what do I have to do to get you to start with those cinnamon rolls for our baking tonight?”

The change in subject succeeded in making Y/N laugh. Jensen grinned too, and listened while she told him how to pick the best apples for baking versus the ones that were better for snacking or salads. They peeled and sliced apples together, then worked on doughs for both the cinnamon rolls and a couple of pies.

By the time their baking endeavors were in the oven, they were both starving. Y/N didn’t feel much like cooking, so Jensen offered to go into town and pick up some takeout. He returned not too much later with a large pizza. He set it on the counter, which Y/N had cleaned up while he was gone.

“How much of a slob would you think I am if I just set the open box on the counter and didn’t bother with plates?” Y/N chuckled.

Jensen smirked. “Wouldn’t bother me any.”

“If you’ll grab us some napkins from the table, I’ll get sodas out of the fridge.”

Within minutes, they were sitting on barstools next to each other, chowing down on the warm, cheesy, meaty pizza. Jensen took the opportunity to look around the house; it was so warm and inviting. The autumn decorations weren’t too much, but they were noticeable and tasteful. While he suspected that much of these traditions had been born of the three generations before her, Y/N had done an excellent job of keeping the house a home.

After they cleaned up the pizza mess and pulled the baked goods from the oven, Jensen decided it was time to go back out to the hotel. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, as much as he was beginning to love being on the farm.

“Thank you for all of your help,” Y/N offered when she walked him to the front porch.

“I don’t know how much I actually helped, but … well, thanks for teaching me some of the ropes. Same time tomorrow?”

Y/N nodded. “You were help, but the company was nice, too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jensen lingered for a moment, unsure of what he felt like he was waiting for. Y/N looked at him, waiting for him to say or do something. In the end, he gently squeezed her hand as he placed a kiss on her cheek, then bid her goodnight.

* * * * *

When you recapped the evening for Taylor, her eyes went wide and she looked at you like you were an idiot.

“Y/N! He’s into you!”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. The age difference alone has got to make him out of my league. Not to mention, I’m a schoolteacher from Middle-of-Nowhere, Massachusetts, and he’s an actor.”

“The age difference isn’t really that big, and,” she swallowed the bite of salad that had been stuffed in her cheek, “you are just as eligible as anyone else, Y/N/N. I think you forget that sometimes.”

You pursed your lips. “Maybe with the new offer, he’s trying to sweeten me up so he can buy the place.”

Taylor shook her head, adamant that this newfound epiphany of hers was accurate. “He held your hand in the orchard, he’s hanging out with you all the time, the goodbye last night -- this isn’t about the farm. It’s about you.”

As you took a bite of leftover pizza, you thought over your friend’s theory. You supposed you could see where she would see all of that, but you still weren’t buying it.

“We’ll see, when all is said and done,” Taylor shrugged. She was so confident she was right, but you didn’t even want to hope.

Hell, you didn’t even want to admit that you were into Jensen, too.

* * * * *

Right after school let out and all of the kids had been picked up or sent home on the bus, you drove over to The Farmer’s Stand. A crowd was already starting to gather; you took that as a good sign.

“Where do you want me to start, Ms. Kitty?”

She waved you over to the cash register. “I’d like to get out from behind this counter for a while, if you don’t mind. Mingle with people.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

She gave you a hug before going to walk the floor of the little market. You returned it, then set down on the stool behind the counter, waiting for customers to bring up their goods for purchase. Ms. Kitty had thought ahead and had a price list set out for you; you’d run the register before, so you were pretty set in your job for the afternoon.

Stephen, Ms. Kitty’s son, came in a couple hours after you. He frowned when he saw you sitting behind the counter, but masked the expression quickly.

“I guess I forgot the festival was starting already,” he mumbled.

The man was a few years older than you, but had grown up in town just as you had -- but had still managed to forget the festival? You’d never understand living in a place like this and not taking some pride in the town’s traditions.

“All the way through Sunday,” you commented.

“You going to be here everyday?”

No, your brow knitted into a frown. “Today, tomorrow, and Saturday morning. Just like my family has always done. Is that a problem?”

Before Stephen could reply, someone else spoke up. “I hope it’s not -- and I hope it’s not a problem that I plan to be here with her. Gotta learn somehow.”

Your frown immediately changed to a smile when you saw that Jensen had arrived. He found another stool to set next to you. Stephen disappeared into the back office, not bothering to greet Jensen or converse any further.

“He’s pleasant,” Jensen commented.

“Isn’t he?” you chuckled. “I’ve never understood how a mother like Ms. Kitty could have a son like Stephen. He doesn’t seem to care much about the town at all.”

“Thank goodness for you two women, to balance out people like him then.”

You rewarded his comment with a smile -- one that grew when he smiled back, and the afternoon sun lit up his eyes, making them a brighter shade of green than they already were.

“You okay?”

You hadn’t realized you’d been staring until Jensen waved a hand in front of your face. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry.”

A customer coming to the counter to make a purchase provided a timely rescue. You showed Jensen the price list and how to work the register while you rang up the young family.

The distraction was brief, however, and as soon as Jensen struck conversation up with you again, your heart was pitter-pattering in your chest. You wanted to blame it on Taylor and the conversation you’d had with her earlier in the day, but you knew that these feelings were all your own.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Whole Shebang: @illisea @ashleymalfoy @busybee612 @mrswhozeewhatsis @sherlock44 @ravenesque @feelmyroarrrr @atc74 @theplaidshirtmadness @blacktithe7 @moonlessnight14 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @smoothdogsgirl @melbrandes @xtina2191 @spnbaby-67 @emoryhemsworth @goldenolaf25 @gabriels-trix @applesugar88 @rainflowermoon @deansgirl215 @thisismysecrethappyplace @calaofnoldor @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @sleepylunarwolf @chances-and-miracles @sandlee44

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A New Fall: @marilynnlew @backseat-of-deans-67chevy @traceyaudette @ellen-reincarnated1967 @maddiepants @littlewhiterose @tftumblin @monkeymcpoopoo @pinknerdpanda @thatgirl1456 @deangirl7695 @foxyjwls007 @woodworthti666 @writtingrose @flamencodiva @dean-winchesters-bacon @cap-just-said-language

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tmararepairs · 4 years

Text

Claimed, thank you!

Pinch hit #1

Deadline is February 13. If you can fill in for this, please send an ask and include your ao3 username!

All requests are for fic. Details under cut. Ships include: Eric Delano/Mary Keay, Georgie Barker/Alex Brooke, Georgie Barker/Karolina Górka, Georgie Barker & Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker/Jonathan Sims, Gerard Keay & Gertrude Robinson, Gerard Keay & Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Sims & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Sasha James/Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/The Vast

Request 1 by Rozzlynn Eric Delano/Mary Keay (Fic) Summary A closer look at their relationship would be interesting! How did Eric reconcile the sort of worldview that let him judge Gertrude for 'ruining lives' with his love for Mary even knowing she was a murderer? How did his love of ghosts and danger play out in his job and their marriage? How useful was he to her, before she decided to get rid of him? Did he have any qualms about the way Mary was raising Gerry those couple of years when he was trying to quit so he could be there for his son? Could go for something set during canon, or a divergence where he survives for longer somehow? (Doing something that convinced Mary he was worth keeping once he was blind? Doubting her and breaking up over Gerry's future, with Mary's part in those events shown? Third party interference triggering a different path, e.g. someone targeting the Archivist's assistants, and Mary stepping in for Eric's sake, with butterfly effect consequences?) Creepy pregnancy fic? A second child?

DNW: - Pure PWP (though explicit content is welcome in fics that also show their lives outside of sex). - Eric committing sexual violence. (On the other hand, if you have a plotbunny that involves Mary being awful to Eric as part of their relationship deteriorating, feel free to go with that. But don't feel that you have to write violence between them, of any sort.) - A sole focus on book-ghost Eric, since by then the 'real' him is dead and he doesn't feel quite how he did while alive, and the show's covered his state of mind at that point. - Child!Gerry dying or suffering beyond-canon-typical abuse. - Noncanonical side ships coming up. (To err on the side of caution.) - Waterworks/scat.

Request 2 by Rozzlynn Georgie Barker/Alex Brooke, Georgie Barker/Karolina Górka (Fic) Summary What sort of chemistry did Georgie have with Alex? What sort could she have with Karolina? Something about fairly fearless and practical girls sticking together. Prompt ideas:

- Alex comes back as an end avatar. Georgie, with her emotions still not really working, but no fear in the mix, and some lingering love still present, has a hard time figuring out how to react. (Tries to work out what happened to Alex? Tries to rekindle whatever she thinks she ought to feel? Finds out Alex is taking victims, and destroys her to save others, leaving her emotions all the more a mess? Could be before she met Jon, or something she hides from him while they're friends or dating, or Jon is really creeped out and worried by all this - maybe Alex almost kills him.)

- Entity swap alternate encounter for Georgie and Alex at uni - something where Georgie still comes out fearless, but things play out differently for them?

- Karolina seems extremely unflappable, showing no fear even in the statement nightmares when she's crushed to death. And yet the fears still have more of a foothold with her, since she's not as wholly immune to dream violence as Georgie. Something where they meet, and are both interested to see how someone else is dealing practically with the horrors of the world they live in? With Georgie relieved that, hey, here's someone who won't imply she's stupid for not fearing danger. And trying to help Karolina find even more genuine equilibrium, if she figures out that she's still struggling on some level - a heavily repressed fear response buried under fatalistic acceptance? Is she too fatalistic to fully enjoy life, her feelings choked by the pressure that has her still shedding dust everywhere? Does Georgie manage to help?

- Possible Georgie/Melanie/Karolina, if Melanie's already in the picture, maybe trying to bring up things learned from therapy.

- Sensory play, to help process things, with plot- and characterisation-relevant discussion of the results.

- (For dark humour, could add Georgie and Karolina falling asleep together, and both of them being in an 'oh fuck off, Jon' mood when they see him in their nightmares a few minutes later. Not that they can talk in the dreamscape, but, y'know. Mood.)

DNWs - Georgie dying, or still feeling fear. (Not counting something partially set before her encounter, so long as she's fearless afterwards.) - Melanie getting excluded from anything around the time she'd be there in canon. - Noncanonical side ships coming up (besides passing mentions of prior partners). - Apocalypse - Noncon (though dubcon from the extreme difficulty any of them might have processing feelings would be ok, so long as they work with each other when they actually piece things together). - PWP - Waterworks/scat.

Request 3 by Rozzlynn Georgie Barker & Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker/Jonathan Sims (Fic) Summary I'd be really interested in something from their uni days! Building on what Georgie's said about that time: "I numbly got myself some water, and ignored my weeping mother. She tried to hug me, but her arms just slid off my limp shoulders. And that was my life for several months. Eventually, the memory began to fade, and I started to feel again. I took the year out of university under the umbrella of ‘medical reasons’, and by the time I met you I was, well, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same person I was before, but I had started being able to actually live again."

Given that Georgie was only starting to be able to feel things again (minus fear), and Jon seems to have always been an emotional wreck to some degree even when he tried to come across as functional, and uni's a place where young people tend to have some ups and downs adapting to adult life for the first time even if they're not dealing with supernatural trauma... well, that must have been a weird time for them, right?

- Jon being bad at dealing with anything on an emotional level, still getting used to not living with his grandmother, trying to keep up academically, exaggerating his accent, getting carried away with things he dives into with his problems with moderation, but maybe still having trouble focusing on the sort of work that requires him to 'read the same book twice'.

- Georgie having enough trouble processing her own emotions that she doesn't register as an issue things that she'd criticise Jon for by the time she's gotten to where she is in canon.

- Both of them going through the motions a bit, with 'functional adult' life things as well as relationship things. The presence of another person encouraging them to somewhat keep up healthy habits like food, rest, study breaks and keeping deadlines, even when they'd feel a bit dissociated on their own? And/or one of them going off the rails in a 'students making bad life choices' way, and getting some solidarity from the other (sure, let's stay up three days in a row to study, then build a marshmallow fort just because we can and fall asleep in it and wake up with sticky hair').

- Experimenting with sex/kink? Any shade of ace for Jon; if sex-repulsed then figuring out what other kinds of intimacy they'd enjoy, if sex-indifferent or -positive then figuring out how much they feel from that kind of activity (and from nonsexual stuff too, cause why not)? (I'm not looking for PWP, but would be interested in stuff with awkwardness, character/relationship development, humour - including any plotbunnies where they give up on experimentation that's not working out and have a laugh about it.)

- Either or both of them getting triggered by a reminder of their supernatural encounters, and trying to cope without actually explaining what happened. The sound of knocking at a bad time bringing up memories of Mr Spider? A friend watching a crime show with corpses on screen that act as a reminder of things that are still unpleasant to recall even if they don't incite fear? Georgie missing Alex and needing some space? Jon's survivor's guilt flaring up and making him a bit paranoid for Georgie's safety, trying to subtly check friends' bookshelves for Leitners when they visit (and not being subtle, so just coming across as really weird)?

- Going on a trip during the holidays or after graduation? Georgie learning how prone Jon is to wandering off and getting lost? A restaurant meal where Jon sees a spider and has to kill it, even if it means getting too close to another table / the kitchens / the ceiling? Georgie getting annoyed at rude posh people and wistfully thinking that Alex would have confronted them (and possibly punched them), and maybe feeling pleased when Jon questions them over something a bit pedantic until they want to punch him?

- Breaking up when Georgie's recovered to the point where she's getting more functional than in her first few years after the End incident, and seeing more of a problem with Jon's behaviour? And Jon seeing that as things ending really badly because it feels like she's gotten to know him and decided he's not good enough, even over things that she didn't used to mind?

DNWs - Self-hate over asexuality as an orientation. (Worries about compatibility are fine, and they could get upset over activities going badly, so long as heavy acephobia isn't involved; if he doesn't blame his orientation any more than he blames hers. Or they could both be biromantic ace, with no reason to blame that for their problems.) - AU where they didn't break up, or where they got back together. In other words, keep them exes for the parts of the timeline where that's canon. (But the fill could be set entirely before the breakup.) - Noncanonical side ships coming up (besides passing mentions of prior partners). - PWP (I like plotfic, with or without explicit content) - Noncon/waterworks/scat

Request 4 by Rozzlynn Gerard Keay & Gertrude Robinson, Gerard Keay & Jonathan Sims (Fic) Summary Some Gerry lives fic? With some of the same prompts as the Gerry ships request, if you feel like using them as a setup for platonic bonding rather than a shippy polypile:

- Gerry helping with Gertrude's plan to kill Jonah and destroy the Institute, which succeeds this time, and maybe meeting & bringing in some of the others while they're still working in Research / Artefact Storage / the Library. (Since non-Archive staff can quit without blinding themselves, fair to assume they're not tied closely enough to Jonah to die if he dies? So only Gertrude has to worry about that part. Maybe Gerry helps her to the hospital?)

- Gerry finding out that Gertrude is part-desolation (she mentions burning inside, and her ritual circle mitigating the worst effects - can she light a cigarette with her bare hands?), and/or finding out she's working with Leitner too. Possibly precipitated by a spooky attack that they deal with together?

- Gerry being alive and meeting Jon, giving him more info/warning about Beholding at some point in the timeline. (Early enough that Jon tries to turn down the Archivist position and warn off the others too? Gerry knows that Jonah killed Gertrude and tries to enlist some help in taking him down? Early s1 Jon gets warned off live statements by a Gerry who learned why Gertrude usually avoided them, and they try to protect themselves and the archive assistants from Jonah's attempts to organise attacks on the Institute to traumatise Jon with every entity?)

DNWs: - Completely mundane AUs. - Character death or full monsterhood for Gerry, Jon, or Jon's assistants (canon's got that covered in many ways and I'd like to see their living potential explored). - Apocalypse - Shippy Gerry/Gertrude or Gerry/Jon (except Gerry and Jon in a polypile, but that's in another request, see below). - Other noncanonical ships, in general. (Platonic focus preferred for this one, but if, e.g., Basira/Daisy or Georgie/Melanie somehow comes up, ok to mention that that still happens.) - Noncon/waterworks/scat.

Request 5 by Rozzlynn Jonathan Sims & Alice "Daisy" Tonner (Fic) Summary Something exploring their friendship post-coffin? They seem to end up getting each other's mistakes without condoning them, understanding how much of it was supernatural coercion, trauma response, and their own flaws, and sharing a very dry, dark sense of humour. They've seen some interesting sides of each other, and moved past the attempted murder and supernaturally inflicted trauma nightmares even though both must've been pretty awful at the time. Neither of them have many other friends who could get exactly how badly messed up their lives are and stick with them, besides those who are actively unrepentantly evil like Helen (and whatever mix of denial and turning a blind eye Basira's approach was, and Martin who wanted Jon to do better but refused to get directly involved during his own crisis).

- Jon and Daisy supporting each other's attempts to stay relatively human? Discussing the past, and the others? Daisy keeping an eye on Jon while Basira and Rosie are dealing with the people who come to the Institute to give written statements - the sort of thing that led Jon to tell Martin that their intervention was exactly what he needed?

- S4 canon divergence, with one of the finale episodes taking a different turn?

- Jon and Daisy managing to do something positive for the others (Basira, Melanie, Martin)?

- Passing mention of the 'normal' institute staff being creeped out by running into Jon and Daisy (both of them looking dangerous and half dead, with rumours about murders and disappearances still following them around). Daisy coping better than Jon with this. Basira effectively being the archivist everyone deals with if they can help it. (Melanie's not quite as scary as she used to be, but she's barely around... Who'd have thought Martin would end up siding with the evil new boss...?) Though if you go with this prompt, at least part of the fic from Daisy or Jon's pov preferred, rather than entirely outsider pov.

- Melanie trying to pass on therapeutic advice and activities (based on whatever mundane version of events she told her therapist about them); Daisy and Jon trying to listen, not necessarily liking all of it, and putting some of the activites into practice bc they need to keep busy (maybe not necessarily lasting long before making a dark joke of it, maybe finding it helpful anyway).

DNWs - Feral!Daisy within the fill, unless she manages to come around without permanently reverting to the Hunt or going on a killing spree against innocents in the meantime or anything. - Jon taking statements within the fill (except from other monsters if they bring on a crisis, like with Peter). - Apocalypse. - Shippy Jon/Daisy, except in a Basira/Daisy/Jon/Martin polypile where some of them share and/or are friends with benefits. - Other noncanonical ships coming up. - PWP - Noncon/waterworks/scat.

Request 6 by Rozzlynn Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan SimsMartin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker (Fic) Summary Have fun with an AU that gives them a chance to shine? Divergences from the canon while Gerry was around, or alternate settings, so they can be alive together. Prompt ideas:

- Gerry helping Tim after Danny's death, or meeting Danny in time to avert it.

- Gerry telling Jon more about Gertrude and the supernatural than he had the chance to in canon, and helping his statement addiction stabilise at around the same level as Gertrude's, questioning any impulsive use of compelling so that Jon thinks it through and gets stricter with himself (especially with Martin and Tim's input), trying out protective measures to mitigate the statement nightmares for everyone involved (since with the tattoos and everything he learned working with Mary and Gertrude, Gerry seems to know a thing or two about channeling and hiding from the eye, using supernatural powers without losing himself).

- Jon still finding Eric's tape eventually, and Gerry hearing about his dad's life that way, while the others deal with the knowledge of how to quit.

- Exploring the tunnels and Jon meeting Leitner under different circumstances, Gerry finding out 'wait that really was him?' and Leitner still being scared after he beat him up that time, Martin trying to stop another fight, Tim wanting to find out more about Smirke from Leitner.

- Gerry meeting the others while they're still working in the Research & Library departments; they all help with Gertrude's plan to kill Jonah and destroy the Institute, and make enough of a difference that it succeeds. (Since non-Archive staff can quit without blinding themselves, fair to assume they're not tied closely enough to Jonah to die if he dies? So only Gertrude has to worry about that part. Could include Sasha helping as a friend, and Basira and Daisy lending police support? Maybe after Gertrude quits, the next Archivist that Beholding picks is someone at the sister organisation in China or America, and Gertrude gives them some advice.)

- Alternate careers with section 31 equivalents. E.g. Jon as a surgeon (his grandma made him study medicine) with an eye for dealing with supernatural injuries? Tim got into architecture or the occult side of publishing, or became a cop? Martin got into something really random from applying to absolutely everything with a fake cv - maybe working several jobs / nightshifts and giving a statement after running into spooky trouble? Or working at the occult store with Jane and Oliver, and meeting Gerry while he worked at the bookshop? (How much more exasperated would Martin have been if he knew Jane before she went wormy and she still besieged his flat? Maybe Gerry helped, and Jon worked for the ECDC?)

- Mixed feelings over the holidays, since they all have/had difficult family situations. Learning to look after each other (Martin feeling appreciated for his efforts to take care of his loved ones, Tim feeling supported, Jon feeling that he can protect them all and there's no crisis to jump at or information he's missing, Gerry feeling understood by people who know about the supernatural and want to build a life free of the worst of it alongside him). Holiday preparations with their friends - Sasha, Georgie, Melanie, The Admiral. Jon's tendency to need mental stimulus and to get carried away manifests as ridiculously overdoing something like gift shopping, cooking attempts, or planning a trip (and still overlooking things he should've foreseen - so it's a good thing problem solving is a team effort).

DNWs: - Completely mundane AUs. - Other noncanonical ships coming up. (Unless you want to include Sasha in a plot where she lives, joining the main polypile, or a triad with Melanie and Georgie. Mentions of oc previous partners are also ok.) - Self-hate over asexuality as an orientation. (Worries about compatibility are fine, so long as heavy acephobia isn't involved; if Jon doesn't blame his orientation any more than he blames anyone else's. Any shade of ace is ok.) - Character death within the ship. (Not keen on book!Gerry for this, as he didn't want to exist that way for long.) - Anyone in the ship going unrepentantly evil as a full monster. - Apocalypse - Noncon within the ship. (If you want to include an element of hurt/comfort over any of them having previously suffered bad things outside of this ship, then feel free.) - PWP - Waterworks/scat.

Request 7 by Rozzlynn Martin Blackwood/Sasha James/Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker (Fic) Summary Have fun with an AU that gives them a chance to shine? Divergences from the canon while Sasha was around, or alternate settings, so they can be alive together. Prompt ideas:

- Sasha meeting the others during a misadventure in Artefact Storage (while Jon and Tim worked in research and Martin worked in the library).

- Sasha finding out how Gertrude really lived in time to help with her retirement plan, getting the others involved one way or another. They kill Jonah and make plans for what to do after the Institute's destroyed, counting their blessings that they never worked in the Archive.

- During the chaos and panic of Prentiss' attack, Sasha accidentally knocked Elias into the tidal wave of worms before she made it to the fire suppression system and saved the others. (Jonah's body in the panopticon is alive and kinda stuck there, so they all live). They're upset about losing the head of the institute... until they listen to Gertrude's tapes and learn what's really going on. Jon tells the others how much he's becoming like Gertrude (nightmares, compulsion), and when they know everything the audience knows as of current canon, he quits with the others' support to stay human.

- Hurt/comfort over near-death experiences

- Going on a long holiday together after it's all over. Sasha and Jon picking museums to visit, Jon and Martin lingering in bookshop cafes, Martin and Tim picking scenic outdoor routes to visit, and Tim trying to get the others involved in sporty outdoor activities (too bad they're all nerds, but they give things a go, mostly).

- Alternate careers with section 31 equivalents.

- Mixed feelings over the holidays, since they all have/had difficult family situations, assuming Sasha fits Jonah's trend of hiring people without many attachments. Learning to look after each other (Martin feeling appreciated for his efforts to take care of his loved ones, Tim feeling supported, Jon feeling that he can protect them all and there's no crisis to jump at or information he's missing, Sasha feeling intellectually fulfilled with nothing left to truly fear). Jon's tendency to need mental stimulus and to get carried away manifests as ridiculously overdoing something like gift shopping, cooking attempts, or planning a trip (and still overlooking things he should've foreseen - so it's a good thing problem solving is a team effort).

- Sasha and gay!Martin bonding platonically in a polypile, finding it's a relief to be able to talk to each other without the particular kinds of pressure that come with their romantic relationships with Jon and Tim, to the extent that the ship feels all the more like found family for each of them thanks to the other's inclusion.

DNWs: - Completely mundane AUs. - Other noncanonical ships coming up (besides mentions of oc previous partners). - Self-hate over asexuality as an orientation. (Worries about compatibility are fine, so long as heavy acephobia isn't involved; if Jon doesn't blame his orientation any more than he blames anyone else's. Any shade of ace is ok.) - Character death within the ship. (I've had my fill of 'the others mourn Sasha' for now.) - Anyone in the ship going unrepentantly evil as a full monster. - Apocalypse - Noncon within the ship. (If you want to include an element of hurt/comfort over any of them having previously suffered bad things outside of this ship, then feel free.) - PWP - Waterworks/scat.

Request 8 by Rozzlynn Martin Blackwood/The Vast (Fic) Summary Okay, so Martin canonically: - is claustrophobic - had many bad times besieged in buildings and lost in tunnels and corridors - wrote poetry about wandering the countryside like a cloud - is bitter about never having had the chance to travel - is a bit conflict avoidant, and ended up feeling so trapped by a terrible situation that he found some relief in isolating himself (didn't miss the shouting, couldn't bring himself to want to deal with his problems anymore), even while he was suicidally depressed over it all.

What if the Vast got ahold of him? Prompts for various bits of a possible timeline:

- In s3, Martin insists on accompanying Jon on his research trip abroad, to help with the work and to look after him. (Nobody can deny that Jon needs looking after, by that point, and Martin is his assistant.) They have an encounter with the Vast in a plane, or on the road through China or America's wide open spaces. Though they survive, Martin's infected in a way that builds over time, like with Melanie and the Slaughter.

- When they're back in London with the plan for the Unknowing organised, Martin persuades Jon to use the Archives budget for a corporate team building day in the countryside, to try to address the interpersonal issues between the staff. The event goes a bit strange.

- After the Unknowing and the Flesh attack, when Martin stops expecting Jon to wake up and says goodbye, maybe he nopes out and flees into the Vast, aware that it's been stalking at his heels? (Intending to lose himself there forever, not become an avatar who hurts others.) - Maybe, months later, he runs into Simon Fairchild while falling through the sky, and hears news about the Institute. When he hears that Jon's awake, that he's still got something tethering him to the world, he drops out of the Vast. - In his absence, Peter made a deal with Basira? (She already thought she couldn't trust anyone but herself. Peter figured she was lonely enough, and had to find the Extinction research to convince her to work with him.)

- Or Martin still makes the deal during Jon's coma, but Peter adapts his approach, sensing the Vast's influence. Either he thinks it'll help draw Martin to the idea of seeing everything via the panopticon, or he worries it'll put him off staying underground there, no matter how unlimited his vision may be as a result. So he either encourages Martin to isolate himself in a Vast-aligned way (research trips out in desolate places, with enough Institute paperwork to avoid withdrawal), or tries to train it out of him (confining him to the building, trying to instill agoraphobia). - At the office, Martin opens the windows even in awful weather, works on the rooftop on his phone or tablet, gets distracted by the sky, etc.

- Things reach a crisis point one way or another, and Jon follows Martin into his space within the Vast. (With different avatars having different powers, and several places falling within each entity, like Forsaken having the graveyard, ocean, beach, suburbs, etc... Maybe Martin's Vast niche is a cloudy sky far above a beautiful green landscape that never gets any closer, evoking an overwhelming mixture of grief and relief that everything below is out of reach; beautiful from a distance, but closing the distance would be too painful to consider.) Jon still tries to talk him out of it, unwilling to leave without him. Either they both leave, or neither of them do? - If Peter doesn't manage to send Martin to the Lonely & tempt Jon in after him, Jonah gets frustrated over the bet being useless. (Mike Crew's already covered the Vast, why couldn't Peter do his job properly??)

DNWs - Peter/Martin, Simon/Martin. In general, Martin being genuinely ok with anyone he knows is an unreformed mass murderer. (If the prompts give you a whump idea that leans on assault by one of them as an extra factor in his depression, making the Vast a relative sanctuary of gentle fear, then go ahead with the noncon, but don't go out of your way to include it otherwise.) - Jonah ships. - Martin knowingly & willingly killing a victim. (Fighting another avatar in self defence would be ok. The Vast maliciously messing with his perceptions and reflexes so he's not actually sure what he's done while badly dissociated could work, if a plotbunny needs something like that.) - Martin or Jon dying more unambiguously than being Vast-stranded indefinitely (as the upper limit for a worst case scenario). - PWP. (Though that seems unlikely here, as any smut between Martin and an entity would need a plot to establish even what and how. And honestly, I can't say I'm keen to read about Martin jerking off in midair. So, uh, don't reach for explicit content unless you've got a plotbunny that involves it in an emotional arc?) - Heavy internalised acephobia. - Waterworks/scat.

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aqua-eros · 5 years

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MONSTA X astro notes: Lee Jooheon 🐝

Ladies, gents and non-binary friends, I welcome you once again on this beautiful day to take your time and appreciate the wonderful person that is the main rapper, composer and absolute cutie of Monsta X. Let's see what kind of stars guide the path of Lee Jooheon!

Sun in Libra

Looking at all personal placements as a whole, that will be discussed further on, I can say that his Libra energy is a lot more present and action-based (as it should be), especially as it's backed up by his strong mars. In a way, neither his mars nor other planets push away or cast shadows on his sun, aka ego, personality and individuality, but embrace the sun even more, let it shine and be known.

The core self of Jooheon is represented by the cardinal air sign of Libra, and as the combination suggests, it reflects the need for fairness, equality, objectivity and justice onto the man as well. As a result, such matters of law can be rather important to him, knowingly or not. Of course, fairness or lack of it is a trigger for many people and signs, but it comes from a very personal place for Libras.

this may result in him being secretly/openly petty for certain reasons, most likely associated with justice or lack of it. if someone isn't being honest or fair with him, that's not something he'll easily forget. forgive? probably. forget? no, sir

would not tolerate lack of manners, impoliteness, unreasonable rudeness towards him or other people. such behavior is simply illogical to him when not backed up by rational motives

fashion sense? on point🛍

I bet it stings his ego every time someone tries to scare him lmao, for he is a known scaredy cat

may be somewhat quick to judge a book by it's cover, even if he's keeping it to himself. but being so observant and good at understanding people, he can't help it, he will instantly know (or not) who he's dealing with

charming💎

knows how to appeal to others, how to attract and make them fall for whatever his motives or plans are. knows how to work with people and how to work them, so to speak. this can be both good and bad, but also just a way of survival

harmony is often the main goal of libra placements, therefore a lack of it throws them off, as well as their balance. it's an eye for an eye, yin and yang, and if that isn't the reality of things... well, there's no telling what could happen. keep in mind that we're talking about an air sign, and half of the time air-influenced individuals don't really know what to expect of themselves

Speaking of air, Libra placements are known to possess certain duality to their personality, for it may be hard to grasp who they really are on a regular basis. Sure, they have their own beliefs and ideals, yet they are fantastic at adapting themselves to other people, situations and environments. Some, usually wrongly, accuse such behavior of being shallow, indecisive, fake, yet it is Libra placements that know exactly how to act and what to say in order to get what they want. They take action to achieve their goals, and they have all the charm, social skills and creativity to win over anyone's heart. After all, it's hard to resist a venusian sign like that🌹 He lives up to his nickname, Joo-honey, for he is too sweet to ignore.

i'm sure every fan knows how much duality is present in Jooheon, for he can change character in a matter of seconds and not even bat an eye. from rebel to sweetheart, from sinner to the most innocent, you name it, he can do it all and leave you stunned each and every time

Libra Moon

More Libra energy!🌙 Having this air sign in the moon, a planet of emotions, feelings, instincts and comfort, provides for quite the peaceful, patient, cooperative and socially-oriented individual.

While there is definitely a rebel living inside of Jooheon, he is able to tone that fire down at least for a moment and display great skills of diplomacy, open-mindness and communication, for it is in his nature to get closer to people, form various relationships and bonds, explore them from every corner. He has great understanding of human nature, therefore enjoys finding out as much information as possible about the people he interacts with, relate to it, filter it in order to connect to a person as much as he can. This can grow into a natural gift of negotiation, observation, wider perception of the world and a fair, level-headed mind. Libra moons are good at listening and providing objective points of view in a situation that seems too emotionally heavy or subjective.

The paradox, often founded with Libra moon individuals, is their wish to avoid conflict and keep an emotionally balanced environment and relationships with people, yet somehow, they keep attracting that same conflict, arguments and misunderstandings into their lives unintentionally. It is possible that during these instances, Libras tend to mask their feelings too much and reflect on what others want from them too often, which is, sooner or later, perceived as something fake. Libras might even lose themselves in the process of dealing with others, seeing as no one appreciates their attempts in relating to others, keeping things surface-leveled and comfortable.

Such occurences take a huge toll on their mental and emotional stability, challenging them in ways they do not appreciate. At the same time, it is oftentimes relationships with other people that hold the many life lessons that Libra moons need to learn and accept throughout life. Such instances are even harder when lunar Libras keep ignoring their own feelings and needs for other people, bending down to please or being too accepting and understanding. Sooner or later, the glass becomes full and can break any moment. When that happens, the sharp pieces of glass will cut through anything in their way, as they shatter all around the place. Just like that, Jooheon may have his moments of sudden and intense emotions that hit him like a train, piercing his heart with unpleasant memories, experiences, silenced words and unhealed wounds. And usually, others get really taken aback from such uncalled behavior from someone who seeks peace, meaning that the bad Libra qualities can show themselves, such as detachment, coldness, shallowness, verbal attacks, along with all of the truth a Libra has observed and can't wait to expose about you. This is a cardinal air sign, and as much as they are kind and considerate, they see and know things you don't want to hear. Ever.

For Jooheon, it's important to be honest with himself, his emotions, experiences and naturally, other people. In order to keep the water balanced and even in the glass, he must steady the waves and stabilize the many quakes within him before the water can become calm again.

Scorpio Mercury

In addition to his already very perceptive sun and moon, his mercury provides an incredibly intelligent mind and sharp eye for understanding others' actions, words and motives. In fact, he craves receiving as much information as possible, especially the one that is hidden, secret and full of mysteries. You can barely hide anything from him, for he sees it all, in ways that you may not even suspect.

always thinks of what things he should/should not reveal about himself, therefore you probably won't get a lot from him unless he actually wants to open up. it's a very big step for Scorpio mercury people to open up about their genuine thoughts and feelings, so by doing that they might be overcoming themselves, in a way, showing that they are willing to trust you with their soul

no wonder Jooheon's rapping style and lyrics hit you like bullets. He has a clever mind, plenty observational skills and a wish to speak up about things that are not okay or not discussed enough. And when he pulls you into his spell, he shoots sharply and quickly, leaving the darkest stains behind

thus, on a certain level, his rapping can feel provocative. like an attack. a callout. a statement

has an opinion. a lot of opinions, actually, but will reveal the truth only in the right time and place

mischevious and playful, but his ways are not light-hearted. his interaction with others can seem confrontational

sarcastic💣

as much as he is an enigma, he also yearns for deep connections, therefore you might even catch him wishing to open up more often than wanting to hide

Venus in Scorpio

oof🌌

add his venusian loveliness and charm to his marsian/plutonian magnetism and strength and you have one powerful individual

the definition of alluring. doesn't matter if you want it or not, you're already caught in his web and you probably like it, even if it's a bit uncomfortable🕸

Jooheon is most likely private about his personal life or anything, really, which only sparks more interest in people

intriguing. you don't know what to expect from him next but you like the suspense, the mystery, the unknown

every venus sign is attractive in their own way, and Scorpio venus is attractive because of their confidence and intensity. first inpressions are strong and unforgettable with this placement

that intensity stems from the all or nothing attitude towards life, and it's taken very seriously

another thing is Scorpio's natural caution and sensitive instincts. they take their time to adjust themselves to new environments, as well as getting to know people. their defensiveness and sensitivity are spreaded deep withing them like roots, and they'll be damned if they ever show vulnerability. if they do though, it means they trust you with everything they have

which brings me to this: do not break their trust. one way or another, you will regret ever messing with a Scorpio placement. they don't easily forget or forgive

likes getting close, physical and touchy. maybe even too close sometimes⚡

driven, passionate and posessive lover. in fact, the intensity goes beyond love and touches on all things venus: art, friendships, material things, even beauty

ultimately, emotions rule over his body and mind, therefore he acts according to what he feels, no matter how suddenly or thought out🌊

Leo Mars

you think his Scorpio venus is confident? WELL let me tell you this: his Leo mars excels in that field

in any situation, no matter how loud or quiet Jooheon remains, he's always one of the most noticeable in the room. his aura shines and the attention comes naturally to him, which, btw, he absolutely loves and craves. Leo placements often live for the spotlight and won't be satisfied with a lack of it

hella creative and expressive of his emotions and intentions. sometimes a bit too dramatic or over exaggerating

can be easily offended at times, he's pretty sensitive

the whole world is his stage and he is the biggest star of the show called "life"

goofy, funny and playful🎈but also loud, bold and demanding

C H A R I S M A T I C, another reason why his first impressions are not easily forgotten. his presence is strong, his confidence is obvious, and his goal? is to dominate the scene and ultimately, win, either the competition or your heart🔥

passion is the fuel to his actions and he cannot function properly without it. there needs to be a constant goal he can pursue or do what he loves the most and because of that, grow as a person. his inner fire should never be put out, it is crucial for his survival and well-being

a true performer and skilled entertainer, born to fascinate and capture audiences🎭

prideful🗻

being recognised for his efforts is very important to him, on a much deeper level

as much as he might enjoy fulfilling his own needs and feeding his desires, Leos are also notoriously kind, generous and supportive to their loved ones. they love inspiring and boosting others self-esteem, so any obstacles and difficulties could be overcome even by the most insecure. they are wonderful motivators with insanely big hearts💝

That is all, folks! Thank you for stopping by💕🌟 and check out my other posts with Hyungwon, Minhyuk, Kihyun, Shownu and Wonho. As always, these are made for fun and should not be taken too seriously.

See you next time for the last, but never the least, post about I.M⚡

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wristic · 5 years

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All of your stories are so well plotted, the descriptions are vivid, and the dialogue flows beautifully! Do you have any writing advice?

I am loaded with anything anyone wants to talk about all the time ever. So I'm gonna break this up and limit myself in hopes it doesn't turn into a ten page essay.

(Heads up it's only three pages!)

On driving a Plot

While I would disagree that my stories are well plotted, (because I totally just write as I go and hope for the best, and then painstakingly edit afterwords) I do have a small key to making it sound like you know what you're doing.

In each piece you write, start with a conflict and by the end, solve it.

This of course is super broad. The conflict can be as simple as a 100 word bit where the protag wants a kiss but the love interest is being teasingly aloof. Conflict: want kiss. Solved by: got kiss.

It can even end with you hanging chapter after chapter. Conflict: Why is this person missing? Solved by: I still don't know where they are, but my partner is acting awfully strange and I've found a handwritten note from the victim. Next conflict: this person is missing and they knew they would be kidnapped. Solved by: My partner is being payed off to hide evidence and I now have the key to the stash they hid from me.

Conflict is what pushes a story to the end. You'll hear in English class Man vs Nature, Man vs Self, Man vs Man. This is what they're going on about and why it's important. If there is nothing to go against or question or desire, there is nothing moving. If nothing is moving than what is the purpose of telling this story? Sometimes it's to delve into mental anxieties of Capitalism and self worth. Other times it's really really wanting that kiss from an absolute cutie.

Vivid Descriptions

The most common advice is to just read, read a lot and bookmark favorite styles. I agree, it helps you gain insight on different methods and inspire you, but in my opinion look into poetry.

Poets come up with awesome mixes of words and clever descriptions because they're trying to do more than tell you a story. They're trying to paint you a picture that physically moves you with words alone. Where as a writer you can get distracted with just telling a story, and start to blank out the emotional color from fulfilling the quota of conflict. Poetry is where you really start to taste the salt of the ocean and twist roughened leather, the sound echoing the ache in your chest.

Romantic poetry is a personal favorite of mine cause they will have you a blushing mess in two sentences.

It can also get you in the mindset and making the words flow almost musically, either to soothe or excite. It’s a very pleasing way to read.

Flowing Dialogue

This one is a bit harder to give tips on. I'm a big maladaptive dreamer. When people aren't looking I act out the scenes I'm writing about 90% of the time. I have been caught a few times and yes I totally look insane while doing it. But after explaining people usually get it and walk away no prob. It's a habit hard to break but it helps me round out what I'm writing.

So if dialogue is stumping you, put it into the real world. (I mouth the words but hearing it aloud might help others). Be the characters and start the conversation till you get where you want. You'll hear where it drags and even come up with something better the fifth repeat. You'll notice a natural body motion or facial expression you give as you say it that you can incorporate into your scene. Btw I've made myself cry many a time getting way too into the part so, warning.

Also, every spoken word needs to serve a purpose. Even if it's one and only purpose is to make someone laugh (that's what comedies are all about!). It must push the story or shine a characters attribute in some way. Don't waste two pages of your protag sitting down with a friend for lunch just to talk. UNLESS this lunch sets something up or accents who these characters are and how they will play out in the rest of the story. If the reader feels this serves no purpose, they will grow bored.

A few more tips

Avoid your sentences starting with the same entry word multiple sentences in a row.

“She ran to the door and swung it open. She didn't gasp. She knew he would be here but it still stopped her heart. She still felt the pain of shock he would dare show his face again.”

And avoid using the same word in the same sentence.

“Getting up and getting ready was the worst part of my day. To roll over to no one and to open my eyes left me too empty to move some mornings.”

Too much repetition and can lull you to sleep or confuse the eye. Now nothing in any creative form is concrete. Obviously some sentences are unavoidable in starting the same, sometimes you gotta use that second or third “to”. It can even add flare and emotion to a scene. So don't get overly focused on how you'll reword every sentence before you even start writing it. It's a critical thing to worry about in your editing phase, not your writing phase.

Often times when I want to write but don't have the energy, I throw every caution out the window and the page is the absolute bare bricks.

Victoria flopped in the chair. “I'm tired of being a warrior.”

Mada nodded. “Yup.

When I go back, when I have the energy, the scene it vastly different.

Exhausted, she ran her scraped fingers on the table before dropping into the seat. It gave a loud whine like it might crumble under her, yet it didn't, and her body slouched to the stained and weathered surface. “I can't…” she swallowed hard as the words struggled to get past the lump in her throat. “I can't do this anymore.”

Mada had sat there a while ago, drink in hand. The flagon was still full despite having been there for well over an hour. She was staring into it, but her eyes gazed far far beyond it. Hearing Victoria, those eyes drifted up. The longer they saw the world in front of her, the more red around the rim they grew, till water built and threatened to spill. In a shaking breath she sighed, “Yeah.”

You don't have to get it perfect the first round. Just getting it down will help you think of other scenes in your story and well, it's nice to know you have it out there and won’t lose it.

Writing it down just because is also something to do with scenes you haven't connected yet, scenes you haven't fleshed out an entire story around. You're creative and have this wonderful story in your mind that the world wants to see. But don't wait till you have the whole novel in your mind before writing it out. Don't wait on the in between or beginning or end to happen before you start writing at all.

Don't get caught up thinking it isn't a masterpiece or that it isn't unique before you write it. Self-doubt it the number one cause for writers block, you’re judging your work before it’s even down on paper. Be aware of that, overcome it knowing it’s an obstacle to crush and WRITE THE DANG STORY.

I hope all this helps in some way! Thank you so much for asking me and thank you for enjoying my work!

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timebuzzer · 3 years

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Through the Night Special Chapter 2

Sean's POV

My parents stayed for a week with me before they went on their own vacation. They made sure to visit when it was a school break and I could take days off at the lab. I showed them my campus and toured them around famous places here.

“We should get a few things now, it will save us some time to look for gifts for our relatives and friends.” My mom told Dad one afternoon during our stroll.

“Yeah, we passed by a few interesting shops. I saw a bookstore around here too, we should check it.” My father agreed.

“Bookstore? Why do you need to go to a bookstore?” I was curious, they can get books for whoever they are going to give those to back in Seoul.

My mother was slightly taken aback while my father looked a bit hesitant.

“There might be something interesting there that cannot be found in Seoul. It’s for me.” All he could say and I didn’t bother asking much since my Dad loves to read all sorts of books.

“Okay. Which bookstore? I have one place I go to here if I need to get some text books or references. They have some good english ones too, if you’re looking for those.” I let it slide.

“The one at the corner, near the cafe we stopped by yesterday.” My father answered.

“That’s what I am referring to. Let’s go.”

I heard them talk to each other but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. It sounded like my mother was scolding my father. Must be about carrying those books back home and adding weight to their luggage. Who can blame Mom though, Dad brings so many books in and at times not even reading some of it for months until he remembers.

My parents went around the bookstore when we got there and I let them be. I went to the other side to check a few books that I was meaning to get last week which would help me with my dissertation. I started as early as I could because I don’t want to cram when it’s due. Three years here will go by so fast and before I know it, I’ll be done with all these and go home.

“Sean, we’re done. We should pay now, please help your father there.” my mother pointing at my Dad near the register.

The shop owner was ringing in the few books my father got. There were some travel books about Germany, he likes to collect those and add it to his library. There were also a few books that reminded me of someone that I know would be interested in them.

“Are you expanding your literary collection, Dad?” I held two books and showed it to him.

“Well, uh, yes I am. Your mom too. We spend our afternoon reading these days, when we can.”

“These too? These are all in english, father.” I sounded serious holding up two more books. By now I think I know who they are going to give these books to.

“Fine fine, these are for Jamie. All four books.” My mother said like Jamie’s name rolls off their tongue so naturally.

I have never heard them mention Jamie in the last year. They know our story, the reason why we are in this state. Why we probably could say at one point in the near future that it was a great relationship but it had to end that way.

“Ah, you talk to her?” I looked at the books and was hesitant to ask but I had to.

I can see in their eyes that they don’t want to open wounds that they think are healed. They are still open Mom and Dad, I’m still nursing them all these years, but slowly healing.

“Yes.” Was the simple response my father gave.

“It’s okay, you can tell me, you can mention her name. I’m glad that she talks to you both. Despite.”

We decided to stay near the coffee shop next to the bookstore to talk. I guess this was overdue.

“Don’t worry, we don’t mention you to her. She’s not bombarded with things that goes on about you here.” My mom assured me.

“She doesn’t ask about me?” trying not to sound sad about it but failed I think.

“Son, I’m sure she would want to. But I think to spare you both from pain? We refrain from mentioning anything about you or her. We don’t see her often, if that’s what you’re going to ask. Just once or twice a month if she is not busy.” Dad said full of caution.

“That’s nice. To be honest, her parents and brother call me sometimes for some life updates. Funny thing is, they never mention her either.” I smiled at how our families try their best to check on how we are doing, separately.

“We talk to her parents too sometimes.”

“What?” Now this is shocking. They’ve only ever met twice I think, one in a golf game that Dad invited them to and a dinner.

“Yeah, golf. From time to time. You know how us old people need to distress and enjoy life. Especially when we are nearing retirement.” Dad just said simply.

“How is she?”

I think I’ve come to terms that I will be okay hearing any news about her, even the one thing that I dread, her dating someone new and eventually falling in love with that person. As long as she is happy, genuinely, I will be too. Even if that sounds hypocritical but I can and I will be, it will just take a while to accept.

“She’s better. Like you. She’s slowing down on her internship even took a break when she was able to finish the assigned case to her to spend time with her family in the US.” My mom said, smiling.

“You both made a very mature decision at your age. It’s just a matter of how this story will truly end for you both. But we are sure that this will make you both stronger, wiser people who have grown better.”

“I guess so. I’m glad she is and I hope she’s happy. I don’t know anything about how she is doing. Even Pete does not mention her. Everyone’s trying to protect us both, even until now.” I laughed lightly at the thought.

“She is happy these days. We see it in her eyes. We hope that you are too, Sean.” Mom said while caressing my head.

“I’m going to get there, Mom. I am getting there. It’s just taking a bit of time for me.” I assured them both.

Their visit was something I thought I would never need, but I did. Having my parents here gave me assurance that everything will be alright. We didn’t talk much about Jamie after leaving the coffee shop, maybe because they still want to shield me from pain.

548 days - one year and a half of not hearing anything about Jamie and it took a visit from my parents to tell me how she is doing. That was the last thing I needed to be more than determined about what I wanted to do. To get Jamie back in my life. I just need to finish this off for the next 516 days and I will show up in front of her all better and have grown up as she wished.

The very best version of me she would need for the rest of her life.

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caitbalfes · 7 years

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Lifeline (2/?)

Jamie & Claire | AU | Claire doesn’t have a husband to return to. Jamie doesn’t have a price on his head. Seems like smooth sailing … right? (AO3)

I’d almost forgotten about this story … sorry !! But since there was no new episode yesterday, I decided to get my shit together and give you chapter two (yes, I know this is a poor substitute for THE reunion episode, but this is all I have!) Also thank you all so much for the lovely comments on chapter one!

Aaand a special shoutout to @bonnie-wee-swordsman who helped me with this chapter, she’s a lifesaver !! (or, at least a ficsaver) (It took some restraint though not to add “cue jaws theme” in the fic based on Bonnie’s comments …)

Also tagging @mibasiamille 😘

I. An Escape

II. The First Misstep

There can be danger in the lack of a purpose. When you no longer have something to give your life meaning, it’s awfully easy to throw caution to the wind and embark on a dangerous—and often foolish—journey.

Some people thrive in danger; they are hardwired to seek it out. For those people, the real danger is being idle, for boredom eats away at their very soul. They need a purpose like they need air to breathe, or food to eat.

Frank had said once he feared I loved my patients more than I loved him. He had said it half-jokingly, but he had been right.

I had always had a drive, though I had not always known towards what. But I kept moving forward, knowing I could never be content standing still. I had the tendency to seek out those dangerous environments other people would rather avoid, but I liked to think I didn’t have the fatal foolishness that some did. If I did, I would quite possibly find out soon.

On our way to Castle Leoch, Jamie regaled me with stories. He had told me about his uncles and Clan MacKenzie, after I’d shown quite a bit of enthusiasm for learning more about the place and its inhabitants. In truth, I had been to the castle once before—or would come there once more?—but at that time, it had been merely a ruin, inhabited by no one.

Foolish or not for putting myself in this situation, here I was, and I did think trying to learn something of the place to which I was headed was a good idea. Information would allow me to prepare, and preparation I definitely needed in order to lie effectively about my origin, for no one could know where I truly came from. Such was life for one with the misfortune of being cursed with a face of glass.

Jamie’s tales provided more than information, though. They were entertainment. He certainly had a gift for storytelling, and I enjoyed listening to him. Though his tales had initially unsettled me a bit, they were further confirmation that I truly was in the past—the eighteenth century—something I had realised when I happened upon Captain Randall, but still naïvely hoped to be a dream.

I hadn’t realised it then, but when Jamie asked me to come with him, I had made a decision to stay—for now, at least—in this time. There was little left for me where I came from, save that perilous boredom.

“I have to ask, Sassenach,” Jamie said, suddenly. “Why is it ye were lost in the forest in the first place? It seems unsafe for a lady such as yourself to travel alone, you could easily be—well, you know what could happen.”

I did. My unfortunate encounter with Captain Randall was not one I’d soon forget. It was only luck that had allowed me to get away unscathed. Luck in the form of a dashing rescuer, Jamie Fraser.

I tried to come up with a good explanation as to why I had wandered astray in the forest, but I had none. How could I tell him how I’d ended up here when I barely understood it myself?

I twirled the golden ring on my finger. I had told him I was widowed, mostly because I suspected the term divorced would be frowned upon, considering the times—even in my time, it wasn’t exactly something women would boast about.

I knew I had to tell Jamie something, even if I didn’t think he would force me to reveal something I didn’t wish to. He seemed to be a kind man, a gentle man, maybe even a loving man. He hadn’t talked extensively about his home, but he had mentioned a sister and of her, he’d talked very fondly. Family, it seemed, he valued greatly.

I took a deep breath.

“It’s a long story,” I began slowly, mentally berating myself for the, at best, clichéd opener; at worst, seeming attempt to stall or avoid answering altogether. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you why, but . . . I ran away.” That was partly true. With an ever-revealing face like mine, it was always better to stick closer to the truth than to outright lie.

That’s what I thought, at least, until Jamie, genuinely worried, said, “Are ye in danger? Are ye being chased by someone who wishes to do ye harm?”

His worry both warmed my heart and troubled me. Had he cared less, he would’ve asked fewer questions. It was unlikely that he’d be satisfied until he knew I wasn’t in any danger.

“No,” I said, with as much conviction as I could muster, “I promise, no one’s looking for me.”

I couldn’t see his face as we were on horseback, him sitting behind me, but I could imagine the look of concern that refused to leave his face.

“Did you know him?” I asked, eager to change the subject. “Captain Randall, that is.” I had seen how he’d looked at the captain when they fought, something that suggested there was more to his fury than seeing a stranger about to take a woman by force.

“Aye. I ken him.”

I glanced back, startled by the brevity. His gaze was fixed somewhere far off, his posture stiff. Whatever he was looking at, I couldn’t say, but then I thought neither could he. He seemed lost in thought, reliving a memory.

I was undeniably curious and wanted to ask how their paths had crossed before, what Randall had done to make this man hate him so. I didn’t ask, though. Whatever it was, if Jamie’s expression was anything to go by, it was not a pleasant topic of conversation.

While I understood that he might not wish to speak of something that seemed to pain him, I found myself a bit surprised seeing as he’d been so unusually, yet pleasantly, forthcoming with information about himself during our ride.

He had told me a number of things about himself. He had told me that, not too long ago, he had been an outlaw, and only recently had he been pardoned.

He’d said the price on his head had prevented him from returning to Lallybroch, as his ancestral home was called, and that was why he stayed at Leoch. What he hadn’t told me was why he, now a free man, chose to remain there, instead of returning home.

When we arrived at the castle, a woman rushed out to greet—or rather, scold Jamie. She eyed Jamie with disapproval and me with suspicion.

“What do ye mean by disappearing like that, lad? Gone all night! People have been askin’ for ye, not to mention—”

“Mrs Fitz,” said Jamie, as he helped me dismount. “This is—”

“And what do we have here?” asked Mrs Fitz. She surveyed me from top to toe. Her eyes lingered on my once-white dress with particular curiosity and not a little disfavour.

“Claire Beauchamp,” said Jamie. “I brought her here for protection.”

“Is that so?” Her face softened, the initial suspicion towards me subsiding.

“Aye. Would ye make sure she has some proper clothes? I should speak to my uncle.”

“Aye, and then there are other people who’d like to speak to ye as well, as I’m sure ye ken. I wouldna advise ye to wait too long.”

“Wait!” As Jamie was about to walk away, I reached out a hand, putting it gently on his arm, prompting him to stay. “Your wound. Unless you want it to get infected, you should let me clean and dress it properly.”

Having earned Jamie’s trust in my medical abilities after helping him with his shoulder the day before, he agreed without objection.

Mrs Fitz kindly showed us to a room where I could tend to my patient. The room was dark and cold, and the many shelves that adorned the stone walls were crammed with jars that clearly hadn’t been touched in a while; they were covered with dust.

Upon entering, I had turned my questioning gaze to Mrs Fitz, who explained, “’Tis the surgery. It hasena been used in some time, no since Davie Beaton passed.”

The temperature problem was soon remedied by a fire, and Mrs Fitz left us alone.

I hadn’t been prepared for the sight of Jamie’s bare back when he removed his shirt so I could tend to his shoulder. Scars covered the expanse of his back.

“The Redcoats,” Jamie explained. “They flogged me twice in the space of a week. They’d have done it twice the same day, I expect, were they no afraid of killing me. There’s no joy in flogging a dead man.”

“I shouldn’t think anyone would do such a thing for joy.”

“If Randall was not precisely joyous, he was at least very pleased with himself.”

I understood, then. Or, at least I thought I did. His hatred towards Captain Randall, the painful memory he hadn’t wished to speak about. This was it.

Much to my surprise, Jamie did speak of it now though. His earlier reluctance to do so had apparently dissolved. I wondered why. Was it something I’d done to prove myself more trustworthy? Was it that I’d now seen the scars, so I might as well know the story behind them? Perhaps he worried I would misjudge him for his scars if I didn’t know the full story.

He recounted the event whilst I dressed his wound. This was a far less cheerful tale than those he had shared with me on horseback, but his storytelling was vivid as ever.

I met his eyes, trying to show him the same sympathy and understanding he had shown me the day before. Since the moment we met, Jamie had been nothing but kind to me. He had shown more compassion than any man I’d ever met.

I stroked his arm to comfort him, and his lips curved upwards in reply. He looked younger when he smiled; there was something boyish about it. I realised that he must, in fact, be younger. That thought hadn’t occurred to me when he’d acted as my rescuer and protector. While I appreciated his heroic side, what drew me in was the vulnerability he had shown me, sharing his scars.

Hand still lingering on his arm, I leaned in slowly, my eyes not leaving his. I could feel his breath hot against my lips. An inch, and I would touch his lips—

He pulled back.

I didn’t quite know what to feel. Confusion hit me first, followed by shock that was soon replaced by embarrassment.

My eyes sought his, to ask for an explanation, or see if I had misinterpreted the situation, but he turned his head away, hiding his expression.

Mrs Fitz could not have returned at a better time. She helped me escape, as she was to fulfil Jamie’s request that I be given proper attire.

Before our departure she reminded Jamie once more to seek out his uncle Colum.

I followed her to a guest bedroom where she helped me change into a more appropriate dress, and sometime thereafter came a dark-haired man by the name of Murtagh to inform me that The MacKenzie wished to speak to me.

Mrs Fitz gave me an encouraging smile before I departed.

My escort, by contrast, didn’t speak another word to me, let alone smile.

Jamie had told me about Colum MacKenzie, Chief of Clan MacKenzie, but not in great detail. He had had more to say about his other uncle, Dougal, the war chief. Despite our awkward encounter, I found myself wishing Jamie was there by my side as I entered the tower room where the MacKenzie was waiting.

My silent escort was still waiting for me when I exited, but he wasn’t alone. Jamie was with him.

I couldn’t help but smile in relief at the sight.

“What did he say?” Jamie asked at once, excitement in his tone.

“You ask as though you don’t already know! You talked to him about me,” I said, crossing my arms, “you told him I was a healer.”

“Aye, I had to say something so he’d let ye stay, didn’t I? He was verra suspicious at first when I said I’d brought a Sassenach here.”

“I’d say he was still verra suspicious when we spoke,” I said in a poor imitation of his accent. Colum had been suspicious, but he had let me stay nonetheless, thanks to Jamie. He had gifted me the late Davie Beaton’s surgery, in return for my serving as the castle’s new healer, for the duration of my visit.

“He did invite me to the hall tonight, though,” I continued, “there is to be a Welsh singer apparently—”

“JAMIE FRASER!” The voice came from somewhere farther down the stairs. Rapid footsteps that likely belonged to the voice echoed loudly as they neared.

Jamie, having tensed up at the high-pitched shriek, looked over at Murtagh, wordlessly asking for counsel.

Murtagh raised his eyebrows so as to say, “What did I tell you?” making me wonder just what Murtagh had told Jamie and why.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs and facing us was now a young, round-faced girl with her arms crossed over her chest. Her pale eyes narrowed as they noticed me.

“Jamie Fraser!” she repeated. It was less of a shriek this time, but no less angry. “Where have ye been!?”

Jamie opened his mouth to explain, but the girl cut him off.

“And who is that!?” Her voice was venomous as she jerked her head rudely at me.

“Ah . . . this is Claire Beauchamp,” he said, “she’s a guest of the MacKenzie and the new healer of the castle.” Evidently explaining me was easier than explaining his whereabouts since yesterday afternoon.

The girl was still waiting for further explanation. Jamie sighed and said, “I was out riding.”

“RIDING!? Ye mean to say ye’ve been out riding all night?”

“Laoghaire, perhaps we can have this conversation in private?”

The girl—Laoghaire—muttered something, then turned and started walking down the stairs, Jamie following her.

“Who was that?” I asked Murtagh after they had left.

“That was his wife.”

#outlander fanfic #outlander fic #jamie x claire #outlander #fic: lifeline #ff #jc ff #ina writes #(there are still things i hate about this chapter)#(but i've been editing it for too long and i've now become numb to it)

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