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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 2 years

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i had a thought, dear (however scary)

A/N: I have been writing this since I finished aiahs and it's FINALLY DONE! get ready for me heavily projecting onto c!scott for about 4k words and some random lore sprinkled in! also things do get mildly suggestive at one point (and scott makes more than one suggestive comment but that's nothing new) but it's not a super big thing. otherwise this fic is mostly fluff and healing! (title is from Like Real People Do by Hozier)

Warnings: injury recovery, flirting, food, teasing, kissing, crying, self-worth issues, emotional conversations, touch-starvation, hugs, cuddling, suggestive themes

Summary: In the aftermath of being corrupted, Scott is determined to make sure his friends and his... well, his Jimmy, are safe. However Jimmy is a bit more concerned with making sure Scott takes time to heal first. But healing is not an easy or fast process. (a missing scene between chapters 14 and 15 of my fic "an icarus and his sun," you may need to read that fic first for this one to make sense!)

AO3 Link

Scott wasn’t sure how he was still standing, honestly. Fatigue was beginning to creep in on him in waves, and Jimmy’s earlier insistence on making sure that he had some actual food was beginning to make sense now. His wings were drooping, and he was clinging to Jimmy like a lifeline- but this was more important. They had to be able to defend themselves against Fwhip, Sausage, and the corruption. He could push through a little sleepiness and hunger to make sure they would be safe. However Jimmy- sweet, wonderful, charming Jimmy- saw right through him.

“I think we need to take a break,” Jimmy blurted, interrupting him partway through asking Lizzie about the possibility of a canal or moat system to defend their empires.

“Bored already?” Scott teased, although his voice was a little rough from talking so much, and there was unmistakable exhaustion in his tone.

“I’m not bored, Scott. It’s just that you can barely stand right now, and don’t think I’ve forgotten that you haven’t eaten anything yet,” Jimmy said sternly. Scott chuckled nervously as several sets of concerned eyes turned to him.

“I’m fine, really! This is more important anyway,” Scott tried to protest, but Gem was already making her way over, gently grabbing the arm that used to be infected and placing her hand over the scar. A faint purple glow emitted from her, and Scott felt a slight tingling sensation before it disappeared as Gem drew back her hand.

“The corruption is gone, but you’re still recovering from other injuries. Let’s head to the apothecary, some rest and food would do you some good- in fact, I think that would all do us some good, it’s been a stressful few days,” Gem said firmly. The others nodded in agreement, Shelby cheerfully chiming in to say that she happened to have some mushrooms on her for stew, Pearl joining in and offering some crops from her empire. The group made their way out of the hidden meeting room, Scott, Jimmy, and Gem slowly trailing behind. Now both Jimmy and Gem were supporting him as they walked, and Scott was a little too embarrassed to thank them for the help.

“So who made you my doctor anyhow?” Scott settled for instead, teasing Gem a little.

“Since you up and collapsed in the middle of my empire and gave us all a heart attack,” Gem shot back cheerfully.

“It’s not like I chose to get ambushed and corrupted,” Scott muttered.

“I know. But you did show up to my empire for help, so actually I think you made me your doctor,” Gem teased back with a grin.

“I think you’re losing this round, sunshine,” Jimmy murmured.

“I can’t believe I’m being bullied by my- erm. My… I can’t believe you’re bullying me,” Scott finally settled on, unsure of how to refer to Jimmy. Sure, they had kissed (a lot), but did that mean they were courting now? Was referring to Jimmy as his partner too fast, considering they had just figured out their feelings for one another? And calling Jimmy his “boyfriend” didn’t feel quite right either, it felt too casual for the connection they had between them.

“Oh uh. Yep- I’m definitely uh. Yeah,” Jimmy rambled, face flushing pink at the way Scott had stumbled over what to call him. Gem let out a sigh.

“How is this worse than when you two used to argue all the time,” she muttered. Scott and Jimmy both let out various indignant responses, but Gem only smiled and shook her head as she continued helping Scott to the apothecary.

When they arrived there, the smells of a vegetable stew were already permeating the air. Everyone was gathered in the small kitchen area of the apothecary. Pearl was hard at work kneading some dough, Katherine and Shelby were standing at the stove and stirring the stew, and Pixl and Lizzie were laughing as they tried to dust some flour off of Joel. Jimmy chuckled fondly at the sight, guiding Scott to sit down at the table where Pearl was working before helping Lizzie and Pixl. Gem let out a sigh that was half exasperated and half fond, sitting down beside Scott.

“I really can’t leave any of you alone for more than a minute, can I?” she teased.

“Joel got a little overzealous with the flour, that’s all,” Pearl replied with a chuckle, setting the lump of kneaded dough in a pan and turning to put it in the oven. Scott looked over towards Joel again, unable to keep the fond smile off of his face as Jimmy only managed to get flour on himself as he tried to brush it off of Joel. That smile turned into a short laugh of amusement at Lizzie’s indignant shriek when Jimmy wiped the flour off on her sleeve.

“Soup’s on, lover boy!” a voice chirped, startling Scott slightly as he turned to see Shelby grinning at him. She set a steaming bowl of stew in front of him and Gem, before happily flouncing back to the stove to get stew for the rest of them. He took a small spoonful of the stew, not wanting to eat too fast and upset his stomach, and couldn’t help the contented sigh at how cozy the atmosphere felt. Jimmy soon sat at his side with his own bowl of stew, and Scott instinctively shifted his wing out to drape over Jimmy’s shoulders. Pearl gave him a knowing smile, her own wings shifting slightly, and Scott flushed and looked down at his stew.

“Why’re you smiling at Scott like that and why did it make him blush, is there something we can be teasing him about?” Joel asked as he sat down, a mischievous grin on his face.

“No! Why do you feel the need to tease me anyway?” Scott protested.

“Oh come on, you’re part of the family now! Which means I get to embarrass you,” Joel replied, somehow managing to grin brighter. Scott nearly dropped his spoon.

“I’m… what?” Scott asked in disbelief.

“Well, you and Jimmy do seem pretty attached, and he’s always been like family to me, so that makes you family too!” Joel answered with a shrug.

“Well- I’m not- we-” was all Scott could manage to get out, ducking his head down to hide his blush.

“Well Joel, it looks like you didn’t even need to know about the forms of affection winged beings use to embarrass Scott!” Pearl teased. Scott’s head shot up then.

“Pearl!” he squawked, feathers puffing up indignantly.

“Aww, Scott! Is that what the wing thing is about?” Jimmy asked, gently running a hand over Scott’s feathers. Scott just about shuddered and leaned into his touch right then and there, but he was extremely aware that all of their friends were sitting at the table with them. Pearl already had an eyebrow raised, being the only other winged person in the room who definitely knew what was going on. So he took Jimmy’s hand, squeezing it gently as he pulled it away from his feathers.

“Sorry, I uh… I haven’t preened in a bit, my feathers are kind of a mess. But yes, that’s what the wing thing is about. It’s common among winged beings- elf, human, or otherwise- to tuck loved ones under their wings,” Scott explained, curling his wing a bit tighter over Jimmy’s shoulders. A soft, adoring expression took over Jimmy’s face as he blushed slightly, and he placed his free hand over his heart.

“That’s about the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jimmy cooed. Scott felt his face burning, suddenly finding his bowl of stew very interesting to look at.

“Blech, I think I almost miss those two arguing compared to- hey, ow!” Joel’s sentence got cut off by a yelp as Lizzie elbowed him sharply.

“It’s not as if we’re much better, babe,” she hummed with a smirk.

“That’s a good point, the first time Lizzie kissed Joel on the cheek he was incoherent for about a week,” Jimmy piped up. The table erupted into laughter as Joel’s face flushed as he gestured uselessly before finding the words to speak.

“THAT is an exaggeration-”

“Not really,” Lizzie interrupted in a mutter.

“AND we are supposed to be teasing you two about being sappy, not me!” Joel finished, crossing his arms and looking rather like a pouty toddler.

“I think that ship has sailed, Joel,” Scott replied with a laugh.

“You’re infuriating. Jimmy, you can do so much better than him,” Joel fumed, although there was no real malice in his tone. Jimmy chuckled fondly, then turned his head to look at Scott with nothing short of pure adoration in his eyes.

“I honestly don’t think I can,” he said softly. It felt like Scott’s world came to a screeching halt with those words, and distantly Scott wondered if he was dead, if they were all dead and this was some bizarre afterlife where everything was cozy and perfect. But it was real. Scott was alive, and he could tell through the fatigue that had settled deep into his bones, the dull aches he felt from fighting the mobs a few days ago, the uncomfortable itchiness of his feathers in desperate need of preening, and most importantly through the warmth that was Jimmy nestled beside him and holding his hand.

“I- you- you’re impossible,” Scott managed to get out. Jimmy just chuckled, squeezing his hand before letting go to continue eating his stew.

“That sounds more like the Scott and Jimmy we know,” Pixl commented with a laugh of his own. The laughter that sounded from the group as a result filled Scott with warmth that settled deep in his bones. The group of them had been through a lot, but maybe, just maybe, they would all start to heal. Together.

The evening wound down eventually, and slowly the other rulers left to return to their own empires. Gem had offered to let them stay in the Crystal Cliffs for the night, but each of them politely refused, saying that they had been away from their empires for too long. All of them except for Jimmy, that is. Gem was not allowing Scott to leave the Crystal Cliffs until he was completely back on his feet, and by extension Jimmy wasn't leaving the Crystal Cliffs. And he was being extremely gentle yet firm in making sure Scott was taking care of himself. Scott wasn't sure if it was endearing or irritating, but he definitely wasn't complaining about Jimmy sticking so close to him, an arm around his waist as he helped him to bed. Scott was about ready to just collapse face first into the sheets, but Jimmy sat him on the side of the bed with a stern look.

"You mentioned earlier that your wings haven't been preened in a bit- I might not know much about winged folk, but I do know that messy feathers are uncomfortable for you guys," Jimmy said firmly, hands on his hips as he looked down at Scott. Scott chuckled sheepishly, stretching out one wing and beginning to meticulously comb through his feathers, realigning them and picking out bits of dirt and dust. He was careful near his golden prosthetic feathers, making sure they were still properly attached. Soon enough, one wing was finished, and it was then Scott realized Jimmy was watching him. He glanced up and saw Jimmy sitting in a chair near the bed, and when Scott saw him staring, Jimmy quickly looked away.

"Would you like to help me?" Scott offered before he could really think about it. Preening was something extremely personal for winged beings, and if his parents were here, they surely would have lectured Scott about moving too fast with a man who he had barely started courting. If they had even started courting, that is. They hadn't had a proper conversation about it yet, and frankly Scott wasn't sure if he wanted to. He liked the way things were now, all soft and gentle and caring. He was afraid of ruining it if he tried to make it into something more serious. Yet here he was, asking Jimmy to be part of an extremely intimate practice.

"Are you sure? I don't know anything about wings," Jimmy asked softly.

"I'll teach you," Scott replied, scooching over and patting the bed. Jimmy slowly made his way over, as if Scott was a skittish animal that would run away at the slightest movement. Once he sat down, Scott stretched out his wing and guided Jimmy’s hands to his feathers.

"You'll let me know if I do something wrong, right?" Jimmy asked, voice trembling ever so slightly with nerves.

"Of course. Now see how some parts of the feathers are going the wrong way? That's because the barbs and barbules need to be realigned- they're simple enough to smooth out, just don't pull too hard," Scott explained. Jimmy did as he was told, albeit clumsily, but it made Scott sigh pleasantly all the same. He hadn't had someone else preen his wings since he was small, and to have someone doing it now was odd, but in a good way. Time seemed to pass slowly and syrupy, and Scott began to feel pleasantly warm. He just about dozed off too, until Jimmy was done and drew his hand back, Scott jolting slightly from the loss of contact and just barely being able to hold back the whine he wanted to let loose.

"You okay?" Jimmy asked with a soft chuckle.

"Mmm… yeah. Thank you for helping me," Scott replied, voice low and sounding like he had just woken up after a pleasant sleep.

"Of course," Jimmy replied, voice barely above a whisper. Scott then realized how close the two of them were, noses practically touching. There was a breath, and Jimmy leaned in for a slow, soft kiss that was over before Scott could really enjoy it. Jimmy pulled away for half a second, before they both dove back in for a kiss that was firmer than the first one, but still soft and sweet. Jimmy's arms wrapped around him, and Scott clutched back at him desperately. Scott felt like he was going to die if Jimmy stopped kissing him, stopped holding him like he was the most treasured thing in the world. He wasn’t completely sure if he deserved that treatment, but he definitely wasn’t one to complain as Jimmy’s hands brushed past his wings and Scott shivered before he melted into his touch. Jimmy made an intrigued sound in the back of his throat before deliberately and gently trailing his fingers over freshly preened feathers, and Scott felt borderline lightheaded at the touch, letting out a gasp into the kiss. Jimmy kept going with his gentle touch through Scott’s feathers, and it was both too much and not enough. Scott kissed Jimmy desperately, roughly even- but Jimmy gentled it every time, sending Scott’s heart fluttering as he felt warm, safe, and cared for. It didn’t make sense. What in Aeor’s name had Scott done to earn this, to capture the attention of a man to whom he had done nothing but hurt?

He didn’t even realize he had begun crying until Jimmy pushed him away, looking at him with concern. He drew his hands away from Scott’s wings, and an involuntary sob burst its way past Scott’s lips in response. Jimmy quickly put his hands back where they were, smoothing over his feathers soothingly. Scott sighed in relief, melting into the touch before burying his face in Jimmy’s chest, not wanting to look him in the eyes as he tried to stop crying.

“Hey hey hey- sunshine, look at me. What’s going on? Was I too much?” Jimmy murmured, moving one hand to tilt Scott’s head up to look at him. A thumb gently brushed away a tear rolling down Scott’s cheek. Some deep dark part of Scott suddenly snapped- he didn’t deserve to be treated so gently, like he was worth something. But he couldn’t say that out loud- because what if Jimmy agreed with that dark part of himself? What if he agreed and realized he was wasting his time with Scott? So he didn’t admit that to Jimmy… but what he said was maybe almost worse.

“I’m not made of glass, y’know. I’m not gonna break if you touch me,” Scott snapped. A flash of hurt came over Jimmy’s face, before it smoothed down into soft concern.

“Scott, I kissed you and now you’re having a mental breakdown. Think that means me being gentle is a little necessary here,” Jimmy said lightly. Scott instantly felt horrible for snapping at Jimmy like that, and curled back down into Jimmy’s chest so that he didn’t have to meet his eyes. Yet again, Jimmy gently prodded him out of his hiding place, and Jimmy couldn’t help but chuckle at Scott’s resulting offended expression.

“You’re really gonna make me talk about my issues?” Scott huffed indignantly. Jimmy shook his head fondly.

“Scott, I don’t know if you remember, but the last time we didn’t talk about our issues, you ended up half-dead and corrupted,” Jimmy pointed out with a nervous laugh. Scott let out a shaky sigh of defeat, wiping away any last tears on his face.

“You… have a point,” he muttered.

“Glad you could see it my way. Now please tell me what happened so I know not to do whatever I did again,” Jimmy said with a sheepish smile. Scott blinked at him in surprise, confused for a few moments before he gathered his thoughts to reply.

“Jimmy, you… you didn’t do anything. You were wonderful, and I uh. I’m usually a little guarded when it comes to my wings, but with you- it um. It feels really nice when you touch them, which is… new for me. And I dunno, maybe that made me feel a little overwhelmed- but nothing you did made me cry. I think I just got in my own head a little,” Scott said softly. At his words, Jimmy started running his fingers through Scott’s feathers again, causing Scott to let out a pleasant sigh.

“You wanna elaborate on what happened in that head of yours?” Jimmy asked gently. He could have asked Scott for the world with that tenderhearted tone and careful touch of his, and Scott would have given it to him without question. So curse Jimmy for asking Scott to open up about something as icky and complicated as feelings. Scott let out a heavy sigh.

“I just don’t feel like I deserve this,” Scott said, voice barely above a whisper. Jimmy’s fingers froze in their movements, and he looked to Scott with his brow furrowed in concern.

“What are you talking about, sunshine?” Jimmy asked softly. Scott’s eyes drifted to the hand-shaped bruises that were still prevalent on Jimmy’s neck, and he could practically still feel Jimmy’s life fading away beneath his fingertips before Jimmy- sweet, wonderful, charming Jimmy- kissed him and saved them both. But it wasn’t just that. He could still see the confusion and heartbreak in Jimmy’s eyes during his fight with Joel at the House Blossom Ball, and then the anger and distrust when he all but banished Scott from his empire- even if those emotions were long gone.

“I hurt you,” was all Scott could manage to get out before he broke down crying again. Jimmy let him curl into his chest this time, holding him tightly as he pressed kisses to his hair between words of comfort.

“It’s all in the past now, Scott. We have each other now, it’s alright. I promise you it’s alright,” he soothed. Scott risked a peek up at Jimmy’s face, and saw nothing but genuine care and affection there.

“You keep promising that. That everything is alright- how can you be so sure?” Scott asked timidly. Jimmy let out a soft laugh.

“Because I have you. It’s like- it’s like I managed to catch a bit of sunshine between my hands, and even though I opened my hands, that ray of light stayed anyway. With you here with me… I feel like I could take on the whole world single-handedly. That’s how I know everything is alright,” Jimmy explained with a soft grin. Frankly, Scott found it a little ridiculous that Jimmy was comparing him to sunshine when Jimmy had a smile like that.

“That’s some dangerously optimistic thinking,” Scott commented dryly, but there was a smile growing on his lips and a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

“I am trying to compliment you,” Jimmy replied with a laugh. Scott couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as well.

“I know. And… thank you. For putting up with me,” Scott said with a soft sigh, wiping at his eyes. Jimmy laughed again, sounding a bit incredulous this time around.

“It’s not ‘putting up with’ you if I love you, Scott,” Jimmy said softly. Scott swore he felt his heart stop even as all the blood rushed to his face.

“You. You what?” Scott asked, voice barely above a whisper. Jimmy seemed to register what he had just said, face flaming red in an instant.

“Oh. Uh. I love you? Was that too quick to say? I mean, I’m not taking it back, I’m pretty sure I am completely, totally, irrevocably in love with you. I just… gosh this is all so new, I have no idea what I’m doing and I just told you that I love you even if we’ve only been together-” Scott cut off Jimmy’s rambling with a kiss. He blinked in surprise when Scott pulled away, looking so adorably baffled that Scott couldn’t help dropping another kiss onto his nose, giggling at how it scrunched up in irritation as a result.

“For the record, I think I love you too. Guess this means we're courting now, huh?" Scott replied with a grin. Jimmy let out a laugh.

"I dunno what else this would be if it wasn't courting," he got out between laughs.

"Allyship with benefits?" Scott teased. Jimmy just laughed harder, eyes squeezing shut as he did so. Aeor above, he was gorgeous. His laughter calmed down eventually, eyes fluttering open to gaze at Scott with an incredibly sappy expression.

"By cod, I love you," he confessed softly.

"Think you've mentioned that already," Scott chuckled.

"Just figured I'd remind you, sunshine," Jimmy replied with a kiss to his forehead. Scott opened his mouth to reply- but all that came out was a yawn. Jimmy chuckled at the sight.

"Guess we should get some sleep, huh?" Scott said with a chuckle of his own. Jimmy smirked playfully, causing Scott's heart to flutter.

"Inviting me to bed, King Scott? Think of the scandal," Jimmy said in a mock appalled tone. Scott laughed, before shifting his expression to something a bit more sultry.

"Well, what did you think I was doing this whole time, letting you touch my wings?" Scott purred. Jimmy’s face flushed, pulling back slightly.

"Wait. Was the preening thing uh… and me touching your feathers… ?" Jimmy trailed off, unsure of how to ask just how sensitive Scott's feathers were. Scott couldn't help it- he broke down laughing at Jimmy's bewildered expression. Jimmy looked offended for a moment, until Scott's laughter finally ceased.

"Sorry, your face was priceless, dear. And to answer your question, feathers for winged beings is kind of like hair. It certainly can be something more… intimate, but most times having someone else preen your wings is just comforting. Like someone brushing or playing with your hair," Scott explained with a soft smile.

"Well I'm glad to know I haven't accidentally done something scandalous. Although I think Pearl definitely knew what you were up to at dinner," Jimmy teased.

"You were the one who tried to touch my feathers at the table!" Scott protested.

"I didn't know the significance then, sunshine. And I think this argument is getting us nowhere, we should be sleeping," Jimmy said sternly. A smirk crept onto Scott’s face.

"Didn't know you were so eager to get into bed with me," Scott teased, even as he let Jimmy guide him to lay down. Jimmy rolled his eyes, although he was smiling as Scott nestled down to lay against his chest.

"Less talking, more sleeping. You need the rest," Jimmy murmured, pressing a kiss to Scott’s hair. Scott let out a pleasant hum, wings shifting to drape over Jimmy like a blanket in return for the kiss.

"If you say so. G'night, love," Scott murmured back, half asleep already just with the comforting hold Jimmy had on him.

"Night, sunshine," Jimmy replied, and with that, Scott drifted off to sleep, at peace with his love's arms around him- and slowly beginning to accept that he was worthy of him.

and it was like flowers blooming (aiahs-verse) taglist: @anty-kreatywna @beepa99 @devilwoodkitty18 @logosbottm @riobug

general mcyt fic taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @meowdy-pickles @space-ace123 @vyeoh

#mcyt #empires smp #flower husbands #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #geminitay #joel smallishbeans #ldshadowlady #pearlescentmoon #pixlriffs #shubble #katherine elizabeth #background shadowbeans #aiahs #sage writes

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years

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casual catastrophes — sakusa kiyoomi

2.6k words | genre/s: uni!au, fluff | warning/s: kinda nsfw (i tried lol) | pairing: sakusa x f!reader

↪︎ in which his jealous actions spoke louder than his words

a/n: request for @study-milk, sorry for the long wait! i still hope you enjoy it overall

also i cant write smut for shit so i turned it into something poetic instead LMAO like honestly i have no idea how people write this so casually i couldn’t stop laughing the entire time

you were an untamed disarray in the morning. you looked at the world through a lens of thunderous fatigue as you finally managed to get some sleep in the past couple of days of nonstop assignments and projects. you loathed the hour at which you were forced to wake, from the tweeting of morning songbirds to the chattering of voice of the morning news droning through the placid dewy air of the new day.

your slender fingers slithered through your knotted hair, pulling the linen sheets of of you as you groaned honey through your teeth. you stretched up high until you could practically touch the clouds through the tips of your fingers until it lulled you awake rather than knee-jerk movements of the daily routine of getting out of bed. it was finally the weekend which meant no classes for a couple of days and you were eternally grateful. despite the short break between weeks being only two days, it was surely enough for you to have fun and relax, not to mention that your best friend had just arrived last night from travelling abroad.

you and your best friend, kaito, had been close ever since you had punched him square on the nose in elementary school after he made fun of you. you supposed that the impact had hurt him enough to think he would like to be best friends with you forever.

kaito had been on your side for as long as you could remember. you would always attend the same middle and high schools, helping you through your darkest days, your highest of highs, and even the lowest of lows. hell, kaito was even there for you when you were head over heels for sakusa. if anything, it was your best friend you had to thank for you to even be with sakusa kiyoomi in the first place. you two got together your second year of high school and have been going strong even now that you both were in your last year in university.

it was honestly quite the shame that you and kaito ended up following separate paths after graduating high school. you decided to stay in tokyo with sakusa while kaito travelling abroad and living his best life.

as if your body was on autopilot, you found yourself already making your way out of your shared bedroom of your shared apartment with sakusa, sighing to yourself as you gently shut the door behind you. following the sound of the television’s soft chattering from the small living room, you glanced upon your boyfriend making breakfast and cooking his morning away tot he smell of chamomile tea and eggs.

“morning,” he muttered, quickly flickering you a glance before focusing his attention back on the eggs. he was in the process of making yours and he was well aware of how picky you were with how your eggs were cooked.

“good morning,” you greeted with that smile he always liked seeing. you settled yourself atop one of the bar stools as you waited for him to finish, “we got visitors today.”

sakusa’s brows arch as he plated your breakfast and making his way towards you. “visitors? who? what time are they coming so i can clean properly?”

you shook your head with a light chuckle left your lips, “you don’t have to do that, you know as i think you know who’s coming.” you say, thanking the boy before you as you stabbed your fork into your eggs. “besides, we’re probably going out to hangout.”

a hum of acknowledgement emitted from sakusa as you could’ve swore he made a strange look when you mentioned visitors. you didn’t even mention kaito’s name, but you knew that he knew who you were talking about.

shaking the thought out of your head, you and your boyfriend ate breakfast in the serene silence. your eyes hadn’t even meet each other as your gazes were both locked upon the television screen.

sakusa found himself waiting, sitting on one of the bar stools at some random pub in downtown tokyo that you had dragged him to in order to meet kaito. he let out an inaudible sigh as he pulled his white face mask higher up on the bridge of his nose as he watched your honey drenched eyes scan the crowds every five minutes.

sakusa had a terrible habit of staring at you in the midst of the silence between you two. he often thought of his gazes to be of a nuisance, but he was well aware that you would’ve called him out on it if you truly found it annoying. trust me, he learned this the hard way when you two first started dating. if anything, he took it to his own advantage to memorize every feature upon your face. the volleyball player’s face seemed to light up the same way yours did as your eyes widened at the sight before you—kaito and a friend of who decided to tag along.

“kaito!” you called out to her best friend, pulling sakusa from his trance and towards the arriving pair.

“feels like i haven’t seen you in eons, (y/n).” kaito laughs as he pulls you into a tight hug. sakusa’s eyes flickered down to how dangerously close your friend’s hands were wrapped around you.

a curt smile melted upon your lips, “well, this is the longest we’ve been apart.”

“true, but i’m honestly surprised you haven’t gone insane without me keeping you in check all the time.” jests kaito, a tone lacing his words with a raised brow upon his face.

you scoff, “as if! i though your expected between from me.” you mused before gesturing to your boyfriend that your best friend had failed to even greet, “besides, sakusa has taken over that job.”

it was then kaito had finally nodded towards the masked individual as you were too occupied introducing yourself to kaito’s plus one. eventually the four of you found yourselves sitting on the bar stools in a row, with you being in the middle of kaito and sakusa.

with only two hours into the night, numerous topics had already been talked about—mostly between you an kaito as they were of reminiscent memoirs that refused to wither into oblivion or stories of his travels.

“so when are you leaving japan?” you asked, casually sipping on your cocktail.

a hum of thought emitted from kaito as his eyes focused on his glass, “in two weeks, i think.”

“where to?”

“probably australia and new zealand,” kaito answers between sips of his drinks, “so far, i’ve been to most of the continents besides australia, so i’ll most likely spend a month in each country.”

a light chuckle escaped from your lips, “must be nice.” you commented, suddenly feeling a large, warm hair grip at your thigh. eyes widening slightly, you look back towards sakusa whose face mask was resting below his chin in order to take a sip of his drink. he wasn’t even looking at you, but his grip on your thigh tightened. you squeezed his hand back.

your best friend downed the rest of his drink, his breath finally catching up to him as he felt a pair of eyes staring holds into his skull. he decides to shake it off, “well, i’m just really fortunate enough to have a job that lets me travel. maybe once you graduate you can come with me and travel for a couple months.”

it was then sakusa wove his fingers though yours and gripped your hand tightly. as if he was suddenly afraid to let go, he rudely cleared his throat as he downed a shot.

“besides,” kaito continues his ramblings without noticing any of sakusa’s tense actions towards you. “i was supposed to go on that australia trip right now, but i decided to stop by japan cause i wanted to see you before i leave again. couldn’t last another couple of months without seeing your ugly face.”

a playful scoff emits from you, rolling your eyes. “dickhead.”

“oh, come on, i know you miss me.” he teases, his hand raising to possible touch your face, but before he could do so, sakusa swiftly pulls your face away to quickly peck you on the lips.

“sakusa?” you muttered upon his soft lips as you pull away.

he cleared his throat, “sorry that i interrupted, but it’s getting late and i just remembered that atsumu asked for our help for his move.”

that was a lie. sakusa quickly made it up as he couldn’t bear for his anger and jealousy to brew within him for any longer as he would physically combust if he were.

“really?” you questioned as confusion rang over your face.

sakusa nods, “yeah, he texted us earlier this morning, remember?”

you tilted you head slightly, trying to recall the memory but failing to do so. but it wasn’t like you questioned it any further as it was probably lost in the busy saturday endeavors of cleaning up around the house that it possibly flew over your head. besides, it was sakusa who usually remembered this types of things so you trusted his judgement.

“oh,” you sigh, looking over to kaito and giving him a pitiful look. “sorry we had to cut tonight short, kaito. maybe next time we can hang out for longer.”

“don’t worry about, (y/n). there’s always next time” your best friend waves his hand as if to say it wasn’t a big deal. he watched as you hopped off the bar stool and gathered your things, “oh here, let me walk you guys out.”

kaito, along with his tag along left their seats at the bar as well and followed you and sakusa out. your best friend noticed the way your boyfriend was tensed with his arm draped affectionately over your shoulders. kaito’s brows slightly furrow as he looked at the sight before him. jealous, he thought as he feigned a laugh. being the germaphobe he is, he was well aware that this was super out of character for sakusa and it was all because of kaito. perhaps there was a smug look on your best friends face that immediately dissipated the moment you all stepped out into the cold night air.

“i swear it got colder,” you mumbled as a cheeky idea popped inside kaito’s head. perhaps he would do you a favor as he was aware of how stressed you had been in the past week, maybe if he pushed a couple more of sakusa’s buttons that you would be in for a treat.

“here, let me give you my coat.” kaito was in the midst of taking his jacket off his shoulders when sakusa had already place his own coat over your shoulders in one swift movement.

the tall volleyball player flickered a look over his shoulder, giving a harsh glance towards your best friend. “i got it, thanks. we’ll be leaving now.”

“bye, kaito!” was the last thing you said to your best friend before you and sakusa walked towards his car.

you hadn’t expected the night to end like this—stark naked under the pale moonlight that bled through the windows of your apartment, laying beneath sakusa who was in the process of taking his shirt off.

all you knew was that this was entirely sparked off his stupid jealousy towards kaito for no reason whatsoever. the thing is, the only reason why you knew was of all the backhanded comments sakusa had made on the car ride home after he had locked the car doors and confessed that helping atsumu was a lie. that having you alone and all his was the only reason why he wanted to leave the pub so badly, to have you in his arms and in his embrace, to feel your skin against his. whatever jealousy he experienced earlier in the night, he wanted it to disappear once he showed you that you were his.

you tried to be indifferent about it. that his uncalled for actions wouldn’t let him succeed in having him take you, but your senses seemed to swell and pulse against your skin at each waking moment that passed. you did end up melting into his arms as he carried you to the bedroom.

he knew you so well that he was aware that the moment his lips touched your neck, all of your defiance would deteriorate. he knew that just a few light brushes and strategically placed touches against your skin would do all of his bidding without much thought.

sakusa sighed into your lips and that burst of serendipitous spark of lust and desperation radiated throughout your bodies. as if all of his rising envious antics melted away, withering along with everything else in the world—the sounds, the questionable best friends, the alcohol coursing through your veins—it dissolved into nothing but you and him.

all of sakusa attention was on you and you only. nothing else in the world would break him out of his trance of love and infatuation for you as he savored the familiar taste of your lips.

you clutched at him with the aching of fervor and reincarnation. you yearned for his touch, clinging to his shoulders, pulling at his hair, and wrapping your legs around his hips to drag him harder into you.

sakusa kissed his way down your neck, to your collarbones and eventually down to your breasts as the deep growl that emitted from his lips lit your skin on fire. he breathed vehemence and desire as he adjusted himself in front of your entrance, watching as there was some sort of unwavering and steadfast hunger and avidity that melted over his face.

you let out a moan as he stretched you out, the sound bouncing off the walls as he didn’t even hesitate and let you adjust. you held onto his shoulders tightly at each of his movements, all strong and powerful at each buck of his hips. there was an ignited salacity in you and sakusa’s tangled greed of limbs and skin had pressed together.

your nails dug into his skin, hoping it would leave marks for his friends to see due to your boyfriend’s guttural sounds of pleasure. even the lewd whimpers leaving your lips caused sakusa to make his movements harsher and deeper, for his lovebites to darken upon your innocently clean neck, and to his hands leaving red marks from his grip on your thighs.

you both hoped your marks for each other would last for days. as if they were the reminders of the night a casual catastrophe of jealousy eminent in your love was something you both could memorize the reminders for days. that instead of you remembering the fun memories of your antics with kaito, you instead remembered the way sakusa looked beneath the blue hues of the midnight stars. of how he looked absolutely breathtaking by the moon’s silhouette.

to remember the taste of lust and ardor, of the way his lips tasted, of the way his body felt pressed up against yours. it was truly something to remember as the only reason why you and sakusa were nearing each other’s edges was all because of kaito himself. the man who set you two up in the first place and the man who purposely made sakusa jealous just because you were stressed, kaito was aware that your boyfriend was the only one who could make you feel like this. to unravel and have you in a trembling mess under his own body, you had dragged him with the tide of pleasure with the sudden downpour of mumbled ‘i love you’ was muffled against each other’s bodies.

your phone then buzzed on your bedside table once you both rode out your highs:

from: kaito :))

hope you had fun tonight, homie, i did the best i can ;)

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #sakusa smut #sakusa scenarios #sakusa oneshot #sakusa imagines

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dracusfyre · 3 years

Note

Missed this when you first posted it, so, belated but: #12 from the 50 kisses list? any pairing is fine

The prompt from the prompt list was “ Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss,” and I went with winteriron (surprise!). Setting is CA:TFA meets Iron Man Noir. :D (Also on AO3) As a warning the set up took 3k words, which probably explains why I am constitutionally incapable of writing PWPs.

----

Bucky watched Steve leave with the lady in red – Agent Carter, Steve had called her – and felt the sour taste of jealousy on his tongue. Turning away, he downed the rest of his glass of cheap rotgut whiskey and gestured for the bartender to give him another. He hated that Carter hadn’t given him so much as a glance, and he hated that Steve had followed her without question, leaving him alone here at the bar, and he hated himself for caring about either; he should be happy for his friend, shouldn’t he, be happy that he was big and strong, America’s golden boy, a lady’s man, able to jump tall buildings in a single bound. A hero. “From zero to hero,” all the newspapers were saying. Meanwhile Bucky was what? Steve’s buddy, his pal, his childhood friend. Not Sergeant Barnes, a rank he’d earned through being the best goddamn sharpshooter in boot camp and being the most well-respected corporal in his unit when their last sergeant got blown to hell. Meanwhile Steve’s a captain, since presumably “Private America” or “Lieutenant America” didn’t have the same ring to it.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, grinding his palms into his eyes. This was what he was talking about. When had he become so bitter? He felt full of broken edges inside, jagged and vicious; maybe they’d pumped him full of poison there on that table, and that’s why Bucky felt like vitriol would come spilling out of him at any moment. He wished there was someone to fight right now, wished for the roar of artillery to drown out these thoughts and a bayonet in his hands so he could have some place for these feelings to go instead of building up inside him like a head of steam. His hands fell away from his eyes and he picked up the whiskey again, draining half of the glass in one go and hissing at the burn.

“Hope you’re drinking the cheap stuff if you’re going to chug it,” a voice said from beside him. Bucky jerked, because he hadn’t even noticed that someone had sat down and that’s a good way to get killed, isn’t it? Even here in jolly old London, jolly old safe London, home of Agent Carter, far from the guns and bombs and needles and lasers-

“Hey,” the voice said again, “are you with me?”

Bucky pulled his gaze from his whiskey and dragged it to the man next to him. The man was watching him with bright blue eyes that were sharp but not unkind; he had a hard time meeting those eyes, so he looked back down at the bar instead. “Whaddaya want?” Bucky asked gruffly.

“Good question,” the man said thoughtfully. Out of the corner of his eye Bucky saw him scratch his chin. “World peace comes to mind right now,” he said, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “A good old American hamburger is on the list,” boy could Bucky sympathize with that, “but for right now, I was mostly really curious why you look like your dog died when everyone else is just celebrating the fact that they’re alive.”

“Well, there’s your answer,” Bucky said, still staring at the bar. The truth was tumbling out of his mouth and Bucky couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to. It was fucked up, he knew that, but Bucky had used up all of his ability to pretend everything was ok on Steve. “I guess I don’t have anything to celebrate.” He punctuated that with another swallow of whiskey and wished he’d start getting drunk already.

“You leave someone on the battlefield?” the man asked after a moment, and the understanding in his voice – not the cloying sympathy he’d heard from others, nothing so soft as an I’m sorry but rather a me too, it’s fucking awful isn’t it – made Bucky’s throat feel thick.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Me.”

The man was quiet for a few moments, long enough that Bucky was sure that the man would just get up leave, and that was good, that was fine, Bucky didn’t want company, he just wanted to be left here to drown himself in peace. It’s not like he was lonely, there were dozens of people in this bar, right? He didn’t need Steve, he didn’t need Dum-Dum or Gabe or any of them, and he certainly didn’t need this random fucking stranger-

“Hey, what do you call a soldier who can read and write?”

Bucky stared at him blankly. “What?” he asked as the man just looked at him expectantly.

“What do you call a soldier who can read and write?” the man repeated.

Bucky blinked at him, but apparently the man was serious. “I don’t know, what?”

“Sir, yes sir!” The man said. “Where does General Marshall keep his armies?”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky asked, but the man just shrugged. “Ok, where?”

“In his sleevies. What’s long and hard and full of seamen?” the man asked next.

“God,” Bucky groaned with a disbelieving laugh, less because the terrible jokes were funny and more because of the self-satisfied look on the man’s face when he said them. “Why the hell are you telling me these terrible jokes? I just came from the front lines, haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Because you’re a soldier,” the man said with a grin, reaching out to flick the rank on Bucky’s collar. “If I told you good jokes, I’d have to explain them.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky said, but he couldn’t help the grin cracking his face.

“That’s more like it,” the man said. “Here, let me buy you a drink. A real drink,” he added, grimacing at the smell of the cheap whiskey in Bucky’s glass.

“Who are you?” Bucky asked after the bartender poured them both something top shelf, at least, as top shelf as it got during war time. “Because if you’re about to tell me you’re with the USO, you might want to rethink your career.”

“How dare you,” the man said cheerfully. “Made you laugh, didn’t I?”

“At you, maybe.”

“I’m Tony,” the man said, holding out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Bucky,” he said, shaking it. Bucky got a good look at the man this time, realizing just now that he tall and leanly built, dressed less like a man who had gone out for a night on the town and more like someone who had just taken a break from working with his hands and planned to go back to it soon. A mechanic, maybe, or a builder, judging from the nicks and callouses on his hands.

“So are you in London on leave?” Tony asked, sipping on his drink, turning in his seat so he was facing Bucky. “Or are you on your way home?”

Wasn’t that the question? He should be going home, if he had an ounce of brains. “Leave,” Bucky said. He glanced at where the Dum-dum and the others were all still drinking together on the far side of the bar. “And I’ll probably be heading out pretty soon, I guess.” Steve was sure ready to get back into the fight, and why wouldn’t he be? He’d never been one to back down from a fight, even if Bucky had been the one to get the bruised knuckles and bloody noses. He wondered if Steve would be so excited the first time he saw what a German howitzer could do to a human body.

“You got plans before you go?”

Bucky shrugged. “Get drunk and pour myself into bed sometime before morning reveille, I suppose. Why?”

“Well,” Tony said slowly, looking down at his glass and fidgeting with it. “I know you’re wearing a uniform, but I was wondering if you might be active duty.”

Bucky went hot, then cold, with fear at the question, and glanced around to see if anyone had heard. “Are you crazy?” he hissed.

“Aren’t we all? There’s a war on out there, and I’d rather get busy living before I get busy dying,” Tony said. “If you aren’t interested, just say so.”

Bucky studied Tony consideringly. “How did you know I wouldn’t punch you in the face just for asking?”

Tony snorted. “I saw how you looked at your friend as he walked out with that beautiful dame. If you’re going to pretend to be something you’re not – or rather, pretend to not be something that you are – you’re going to need a better poker face.”

Bucky took a sip of his drink and turned the offer over in his head, suddenly aware that he hadn’t had anyone touch him, really touch him, in months. His eyes caught on Tony’s hands again and he couldn’t help imagining how they might feel on him. “What did you have in mind?” he said in a low voice.

“I didn’t think I’d get this far, honestly,” Tony said with a rueful smile. “I was out here on a wing and a prayer. But, uh, I got a room at a hotel?”

Bucky looked down at his uniform. Disheveled though it was, it was distinctive and recognizable. “You can’t smuggle me into a hotel, Tony.”

“Right. I have a workshop,” Tony ventured. “It’s not much, but it’s not far.”

“Okay.” Bucky nodded, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. “Let’s, um…”

“Finish our drinks first?” Tony suggested.

“Sure.” Bucky took a swallow of his drink, now drinking for courage rather than to forget. “Do you do this a lot?”

“No, not with, uh,” Tony gestured at Bucky and Bucky nodded with understanding. “But…” Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Once I’m done with the – this project I’m working on, I’m going back to France. Southern France. So I came out for a drink because my workshop was too quiet, then I saw you, and I thought, he doesn’t seem like he should be alone right now, and when I talked to you, I realized that I don’t want to be alone right now, so…yeah.”

“Oh.” Bucky looked at Tony with new eyes, and saw the tiredness around the eyes, the slightly grim cast to his mouth. If Tony was working in southern France, he was probably with the Resistance, and if there was a more shit job than infantry that was definitely one of them. “Carpe diem, eh?” he asked, and tapped his glass against Tony’s.

“I want to carpe something, alright,” Tony said with a smirk.

“You Americans only want one thing,” Bucky complained, lifting his nose in the air and turning his face away. “You should be ashamed.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that, doll,” Tony crooned. “I just want to show you a good time, I promise.” Tony risked a hand on Bucky’s leg, just above the knee, and squeezed, fingers rubbing along the inner seam of Bucky’s pants before he withdrew. Bucky almost choked on his whiskey as he inhaled sharply at the touch, heat suddenly thrumming in his veins. There was a glint in Tony’s eye as if he knew exactly the effect he’d had and was looking forward to doing more of it.

Then his face changed as he glanced up and leaned away from Bucky. “You gentlemen doing alright?” The bartender asked, and they both nodded.

“I’ll go ahead and pay my tab,” Tony said, and passed over way too much money for their bill. “Keep the change,” he said, and the bartender disappeared again.

But the reminder that they weren’t actually alone had been like cold water to the face, and suddenly Bucky was ready to leave. “You wanna get out of here?” he asked. He looked at how much alcohol was left and drank it all, coughing a little at the burn.

“Sure,” Tony said, taking one last swallow of his own before pushing it aside. Bucky stood and hesitated, remembering that the others were sitting by the front door and he’d have to pass them to get out of the bar. Tony touched his arm and jerked his head towards the back of the bar. Night had fallen while they were inside, and it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust; citywide blackout conditions meant that they only had the moonlight to see by, which was a week or so away from being full. “This way,” Tony said, and the hand on his arm slid down until Tony was curling his fingers around Bucky's palm.

The simple touch of another hand in his own made the words get stuck in Bucky’s throat, so he just held on, gripping maybe a little too tightly while Tony led him through the narrow streets and back alleys of London town. Tony stopped as their narrow alley emptied out into a larger street, moonlight gilding the pavement silver. He backed them up a bit, then herded Bucky into a dark corner away from the busier street.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky whispered, wondering if Tony had seen something on the street, like police or other Army officers or something. Instead, Tony just crowded him against the wall, arms coming up to bracket Bucky’s shoulders.

“Can I kiss you?” Tony whispered.

Bucky nodded, then realized it was probably too dark for Tony to see him, so instead he fisted his hands into Tony’s shirt and pulled him closer, sliding his hands up Tony’s chest to frame his face so he could slant his mouth across Tony’s. Tony made a soft hum, deep in his throat, and leaned in until Bucky could feel him from chest to knee. The stone wall was cold against his back, but Tony was so warm, so solid; Bucky suddenly wanted that weight on top of him, pressing him into a mattress. Tony’s mouth was hungry, and Bucky reveled in it; he could taste whiskey on Tony’s tongue and chased it with his own. Tony’s hands were fumbling at his jacket, then at his shirt underneath, trying to find skin. Bucky let go of Tony long enough to help him, trying to pull his shirt out from where he had tucked it into his pants because suddenly he wanted Tony’s hands on him more than he’d wanted anything, ever; this was glorious, it was heady, it was exactly the forgetting that he had been wanting. Then Tony was finally touching him, hands almost hot, the roughness of his callouses as he stroked along Bucky’s ribs making him feel like a plucked string. Relief swelled in him as fire crawled in his veins, making him feel lighter and more alive than he had in months. Tony slipped a thigh between Bucky’s legs and Bucky almost sobbed at the pressure against his aching hardness, especially when he realized that Tony was hard too.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Tony pulled away and Bucky could taste salt on his lips. “Bucky?” Tony said softly. “Are you ok?”

And to his dismay Bucky felt a sob burst out of him, all of the anger and bitterness and joy and loss and fear overflowing like a levee had broken. He felt arms wrapping around him and he buried his face in Tony’s neck and cried into his rough linen shirt. Tony didn’t say anything, didn’t try to comfort him or tell him well-meaning lies like it’ll be ok and you’ll be alright, he just held him close until the sobs trailed away into a stuffy nose and a headache.

Bucky finally straightened, feeling his face burning in the dark. “Christ, I’m so-“ Bucky started, but Tony stopped him with a kiss.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Tony said, digging into his pocket and handing Bucky a handkerchief. Tony’s hands came up to cradle Bucky’s elbows and he rested his head against Bucky’s forehead. “All of that has to go somewhere or it will eat you up inside. I’m glad that I could be here for you when you needed it.”

Bucky grimaced but he had to admit he felt better, like a flood had washed him clean inside. Except, of course, for the embarrassment of having cried on someone he was just about to get off with. “Do you still wanna…?”

“Do you?” Tony asked. They were still cradled in the soft darkness of the night, and Tony’s breath was a puff of warmth on Bucky’s lips; he could smell the whiskey on his breath and the faint threat of Tony’s cologne and what might be grease. There was the faintest murmur of conversation from pedestrians on the big street nearby, but it felt like they were in their own little world here, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to be able to disappear into that as long as possible. So he nodded, knowing that Tony could feel it. “Then I do, too.”

The next morning came all too soon; Bucky sighed with resignation when he saw the clock and realized he’d have to leave now to sneak back to his barracks before morning formation.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Tony offered, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Bucky’s face. They had ended up on a cot that Tony kept in his workshop, which was better than the floor but meant that they had pretty much had to be on top of one another all night in order to fit.

“No, if I get caught then it’s just breaking curfew, getting caught with someone else would just raise more questions.” Bucky kissed Tony’s forehead, the only place he could reach, then started to slide out from under him and get dressed.

“By the way,” Tony said, rolling over onto his back to watch Bucky pull his clothes on, “my full name is Tony Stark.”

“You mean, like the character from the book?” Bucky said skeptically. “Come on. You don’t gotta give me a fake name, here.”

“It’s not fake,” Tony protested. “I am the character from the book.”

“You mean he was named after you?”

“No that’s –“ Tony sat up with a huff, looking outraged. “The books are about me.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky said as he tucked his shirt into his pants. “That stuff can’t possibly be true, with Atlantis and magic masks and hidden temples and shit.”

“It is. If we had more time I’d show you,” Tony insisted. “And it’s not magic, just science we haven’t figured out yet.”

Bucky thought about blue beams of light that made people disappear as if they’d never existed, and a man who could rip his face off to show just a bloody skull underneath. “I guess,” he conceded. “So you’re a celebrity, eh? Wait until I tell absolutely nobody that I slept with a celebrity,” he said wryly, then did a double take as a thought occurred to him. “Wait, they sent you, a celebrity, into Vichy France?”

Tony winced. “That’s why I don’t tell people my real name,” he said. “It’s not like people can recognize me from the cheesy cover art of those books. I was just telling you so that…you know, in case, after the war – if there is an after – maybe you could look me up.”

“Oh.” Bucky sat down on the edge of the cot and cupped Tony’s cheek in one hand, running a thumb over his cheekbone. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

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hopeless-nostalgiac · 3 years

Text

2020 IN WRITING

tagged by @loudlooks

tagging: I haven’t been around, so I don’t know who’s writing anymore *shrug* If you want to, go ahead!

1. List of works published this year:

With Finer Grit - Chapter 10

with all appliances and means to boot

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

The update to WFG because it was so long in the making (4! years!). Really thought I’d never continue it. I liked the other piece, too, because I actually had fun writing it. Team Leader Tony is one of my favorite Tonys.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

The update to WFG because I see the flaws and I might have ruined it with that last scene. Welp.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

They dozed together in the dark of her bedroom. They weren’t cuddlers, per se. Their connections left them too sensitive, sticky and unspooled. They stayed close, though. Touching random pieces of her to him, him to her. His head resting on her bicep curled closest to the mattress. Her ankle molded to the arch of his foot. Sometimes as conventional as their hands laid one atop the other, fingers loose.

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

Hmm. Not many reviews these days. I cherished all the feedback from @mcgeekle *hugs*

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Pretty much every time I sat down to write.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Um. I attempted to write smut, but never got to the actual smut part of the ficlet, so...I don’t think it counts. Also I tried writing Orli, which was interesting, if ultimately futile.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I know for a fact I did not grow because I did not put honest effort into it.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I’d like to find a way to write again, regularly and with pleasure. Not sure how to achieve that, yet. Might need to find fresh inspiration.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

@mcgeekle such a sweetheart, so helpful and motivating and gives great insight, only wish I could return the favor somehow *more hugs*

@loudlooks read drafts of my work (that didn’t even became a thing) when she wasn’t feeling tiva, now that’s a writerly friend *hugs*

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Nope, and I think that’s part of the problem.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Not really new, but...write ideas/characters/worlds that interest you, make you laugh, send you flying back to the computer to write whenever you have the chance. Write what makes you want to keep writing.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

Maybe finish WFG for good? Blessing could be continued...if I was so inclined.

Mostly, like @loudlooks, I have a ton of WIPs. Seriously it’s disgraceful. There was the smut thing (it’s a tiva shower fic cause we need another of those). I’ve been dabbling with a New Year’s Eve tiva ficlet--for a couple years now. There’s a Hanukkah fic which would indeed be a miracle if I could finish it. A random piece on post-S17 Ziva. A S11 AU that gets bigger every time I think about it. A post-elevator fic that’s also a puppy fic (don’t ask).

Then there’s a category of WIPs I previously released as part of Tiva Amnesty, but that I go stare at on occasion to torture myself. It’s fun. The biggest culprits are: --Tender Curiosity (S8 AU Ziva is preggers, but it’s not Tony’s; angst and deep friendship exploration ensue) --The Villa (S12 AU Tony and Ziva reunite at an Italian chateau, but it doesn’t go the way he planned) --Land I Grew (S7 Ziva and Tony rebuilding, one mattress at a time)

If the middles and endings of any (or all) of those want to suddenly be fully formed in my mind, that would be great.

To be honest, I think I have outgrown writing Tiva and that’s why it’s nearly impossible to produce these works, and thus why my writing has stalled completely.

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year:

with all appliances and means to boot because it stands alone, at least.

15. Year word count:

WFG chapter = 2,331

With all appliances, etc. = 3,261

Drafts upon drafts, random crap, fiddling with WIPs = infinite

#writing #tat fic #thanks for tagging me loudlooks!#this helped me stave off the anxiety of going back to work tomorrow #tiva fanfiction

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jam-is-my-food · 3 years

Note

writing asks. all of them. ( for 50 uhh just write a paragraph about how hot emmy raver-lampman is in a suit please and thank you </3 )

fUCK YOU NESSIE

THAT’S IT IM DOING IT JUST TO SPITE YOU

this is gonna be long asf click keep reading at risk of death or boredom

1. Do you listen to music when you write?

not usually, it's distracting

2. Are you a pantser or plotter?

naturally pantser but if i wanna actually finish smth i gotta plot it hh

3. Computer or pen and paper?

computer i'm not a boOmer /j i so am

4. Have you ever been published, or do you want to be published?

bitch i wiSh

actually technically i was published in this anthology thing once? and i think i have a piece in a magazine somewhere on the internet i forget those are cool

but yeah bye getting a novel published is my d r e a m (gotta write a novel first tho lawl)

5. How much writing do you get done on an average day?

n o t m u c h

unless i get one of my bUrsts aka finishing a 2.3K almoons chapter before 8am the other week after procrastinating it for like two months

but yeah jdsghliuedskj it um depends often none

6. Single or multiple POV?

i answered that for kiri so i'll just copy paste it over loll

mmm it depends. usually i do single? but i do do multiple occasionally. i almost never do alternating chapters, though, it’s usually more like part one is narrated by person a, part two person b etc.

7. Standalone or series?

baha like i could ever write a series (please, please be jinxing yourself rn refster) aside from that one trilogy when i was 7 but uh yeah atm just standalones but a series would be so cool in future

8. Oldest WIP

the aforementioned trilogy. chronicles of clara. it is incREDIBLE. 10/10. so good. so, so good.

9. Current WIP

i haven't actually mentioned it on tumblr yet but hehehe it's called the wordweaver's apprentice it's fantasy and i'm v excited about it :DD that was ooc but :DD

10. Do you set yourself deadlines?

(also answered for kiri, copy-pasting over)

hahahahhahahuhdkjashdglauhsdaugediuskjlkehdsgihkdskhgdkjx

i? try?

it does not go well?

but then i never finish my projects?

send help pls im dying

11. Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

lmao the list is too long

12. Describe your perfect writing space

somewhere w/o distractions

13. Describe your writing process from idea to polished

hm. idea. that's cool. that's cool. write it down. hype myself up. forget about it within a week.

el em mayo

but like

f r LMAO

okay but fr fr idk i don't usually finish stuff but it'd be idea, brainstorm, plot (sort of), write, agonize, write, finish, throw in the other direction and never touch again bc revision whos she

14. How do you deal with self-doubts?

cry and spam my friends

15. How do you deal with writer’s block?

i don’t - mm. i don’t tend to get writer’s block? or like - idk what to classify as writer’s block? bc sometimes i get blocked for a certain story, but then i get really into like poetry or sum for a week so it’s fine idk

16. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied with a project?

o n e as i said i don't - revision is a no

17. What writing habits or rituals do you have?

uHhHhhhhh idk???

18. If you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be, and what would you write about?

*laughs in gfc*

19. How do you keep yourself motivated?

i don't. if you have any ideas please hmu i need it.

20. How many WIPs and story ideas do you have?

m a n y.

21. Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write?

mmmmmmmmm i love cass i haven't written her in too long but i think she's probably my most well-done character to date and i'm so proud of her badkghewiludkjs

22. Who is/are your favourite pairing(s) to write?

c y i l l

though possible imeini (ship name needs revision) in future we shall see (from twa) (the aforementioned newish wip)

23. Favourite author

there are Many

24. Favourite genre to write and read

fantasy maybe? ooh dystopia is fun

25. Favourite part of writing

everything about it when i'm motivated hh, my problem is getting more motivation

26. Favourite writing program

oh idk huh?

27. Favourite line/scene

idk?

28. Favourite side character

j o o s t

29. Favourite villain

i def have one but i forget

30. Favourite idea you haven’t started on yet

too many

31. Least favourite part of writing

motivating myself :/

32. Most difficult character to write

mmmm i'm not really in the throes of a wip atm so idk

33. Have you ever killed a main character?

yessir

34. What was the hardest scene you ever had to write?

drunk will was surprisingly difficult in a fun way. def not the hardest but yeah

35. What scene/story are you least looking forward to writing?

god idk

36. Last sentence you wrote

And then Mei was gone, and in the space that she'd filled, Imani whispered, "I wish I was like you."

37. First sentence or your current WIP

It is said that when we came to this stretch of Tatys land, it was empty.

38. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had

mm there was one about anthropomorphic chickens battling sentient fruits, the fruits in question also being six-year olds

39. Weirdest character concept you’ve ever had

s e e a b o v e

40. Share some backstory for one of your characters

cass's mom used to have a drug problem & she would leave her alone for long stretches of time, she went to rehab and is now sober but it's where cass gets her abandonment issues from

41. Any advice for new/beginning/young writers?

just write! no one taught me how to do anything, and there's no rules per se, aside from basic grammatical stuff. do what you wanna do, don't worry about others' reactions. this is cliche asf but true.

42. How do you feel about love triangles?

mostly gross, but they can be good.

43. What do you do if/when characters don’t follow the outline?

adapt. i g o w i t h t h e f l o w.

44. How much research do you do?

not much usually, depends on the genre of story. i do as much as i feel i need to. and ofc i have the random writer search history.

45. How much world building do you do?

in the past, not much. twa (once again my new wip) is fantasy, though, so i' m attempting to remedy that.

46. Do you reread your own stories?

i do! it's fun to look back at them after a few years and see how much i've improved.

47. Best way to procrastinate

random character headcanons/doodle writey spurt thingies

48. What’s the most self-insert character/scene you’ve ever written?

bAHA this one scene in the cHrOniCLeS of cLaRa book two when this girl lisa who was 100% self-insert got annoyed at her little sister daisy (sister-insert) for chewing too loudly and then proceeded to use her wAtEr pOwErs to like flood the house. that part was less self-insert.

49. Which character would you most want to be friends with, if they were real?

bye that's so hard. c a d m u s & l a u r e n t tho cinnamon rolls are liFE.

50. Write a paragraph about how hot emmy raver-lampman is in a suit please and thank you

i don't gotta write my own bitch i have everything i need to plagiarize from right here

"Raver-Lampman’s enthusiasm is contagious. So is her laugh. It comes from deep inside, just like her voice, and it rings out — ricocheting off furniture and walls. Her head is shaved, all except for a distinctive swath of tight curls on the top and left side of her head. She has the tiniest septum ring in her nose, and a tattoo of what looks like a musical note behind her right ear."

- the clearly gay jessica belt

thank you for the ASKS darLING and thank you if you read this idk why or whether you're okay but yup

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punksarahreese · 3 years

Text

My AU/writing plans for 2021

Continue Recovery in the least offensive way possible because it’s an important topic to explore and I’m attached now (@cr1pt1d If this au is in any way too similar to your new one with Sarah then let me know okay!!)

Write more about Teen!AU, specifically what happened after they were reunited and also how things were on Ava’s side when Sarah stopped responding

Figure out my plans for Restart and start writing the important plot points properly

A project with some other med writers which will be talked about at a later point 🥰

More Murmur now that I’ve reworked it; specifically looking at Vivi’s heart transplant and also the progression of Reesker’s relationship

Oh also September 7th-14th is Congenital heart defect awareness week so I’m gonna be writing Vivi content that week!!

Finish some Recurrence backstory stuff and then get to the main plot which follows adult Ava <3

I definitely wanna get into the cancer stuff in that because... oncology <3

Bloodletting will focus on the progression of Ava and Sarah’s relationship and also involve some Crockett drama and maybe some more April/Noah because their backstories are important and I haven’t touched on them much yet

Chronic and 4 mg Ativan will pop up whenever I’m writing to cope lmao expect those as often as usual because sometimes I get random inspiration when I’m in pain 🥰

Undertow will escalate and I will definitely get to Ava and Sarah meeting for real and also some Nat/April drama maybe <3 also... Nat/April/Robin... thoughts

La Douleur Exquise finally has a solid plot line so I will be writing hopefully mostly chronological pieces for it

Requests!! I hope to get to more and be more organized

Bexton soulmate AU....

Maybe a writing prompt challenge in May? Since it’s my birth month and I finish first year of school in late April; would anyone be down for that?

I wanna write some Robin and Ava for sure, whether it be platonic or romantic I just think they could have been such an interesting pairing

Once I properly watch season 5 I want to explore the AU idea I had where Ava is a ghost stuck in Gaffney and watching the aftermath of her death... maybe (@crockettstiddies if that’s too similar to your ghost au I will drop the idea gsjsk I’ll check in with you if I ever decide to do it for real)

More AUs probably because I’m a clown

#leggo #my aus #2021 plans #in 2021 all my aus will be self indulgent and i will not have meltdowns about criticism <3

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everything-y-nothing · 4 years

Text

someone please write this fic

being on lockdown during this pandemic resurrected some major bamon feels. my brain started to obsessively develop the plot for a bamon fanfic and since I do not consider myself a writer, I’m surrendering it to the void.

For your consideration, Bonnie and Damon’s lives after the TVD series finale starts something like this:

Bonnie needs a fresh start after the shitstorm of the last 8 years. Her friends are safe and moving forward with their lives, so she decides to go back and finish up college...far away from Mystic Falls. The idea of exploring anything supernatural is lost on her, so instead of following in Grams’ footsteps as an Occult Studies professor, she takes a different path. Bonnie discovers her passion for Human Rights and Global Health, earning a PhD in Social Epidemiology. Working for a nonprofit jumpstarts her solo trip around the world, traveling through various parts of Africa and southeast Asia.

Her love of travel and social justice advocacy inspires Bonnie to create a digital media publication to share her unique perspective. Self proclaimed anti-influencer, Bonnie creates Currently: Conquering the World with Dr. Bonnie which delivers education through travel – simultaneously offering honest first-hand travel insights, educating followers on important issues faced by the highlighted destinations and checking privilege. The platform uplifts the voices of WOC, POC and marginalized people. It has been featured in a couple of major publications, donates to local nonprofits, hosts a podcast and has a sizable social media following. Bonnie posts a booty shot for every 1,000 new followers to her instagram account to show that there’s no correlation between a badass bitch in a bikini and intelligence.

Magic takes a backseat to Bonnie’s career and she’s okay with it. She still practices and befriends a handful of witches and warlocks through her travels. However, she keeps the magnitude of her abilities mostly under wraps. There’s not a snowflake’s chance in hell that she will let the power of her lineage be taken advantage of again. Bonnie Bennett - joyful, unapologetic BAMF, brainiac and humanitarian - finally found her inner goddess and is making good on her promise to live her very best life.

Bonnie keeps in touch with the remaining members of the Mystic Falls Scooby gang, though marginally - FaceTime sessions with Caroline and Elena when they can fit into each other’s schedules and time zones, long conversations with Matt, and random texts from Damon complaining about anything and everything. In time, the calls become fewer and no news is good news in her mind. Plus, she has a business to run, places to be, people to educate and a patriarchy to dismantle.

At first, Damon struggles acclimating to his new human life. He’s not pleased to have to take up exercising to in order to maintain his physique and misses the strength and agility he once had as a vampire. The lack of bloodlust is a plus. Cooking and eating real food is way more rewarding and enjoyable, another plus. Although, he gets mildly depressed that his body needs to build up an alcohol tolerance and can actually now die from overdrinking. He finally has Elena all to himself which is all he ever wanted and he should be walking on cloud nine, but it’s all so overwhelming. Time is fleeting and he realizes how much he had taken it for granted. He misses Stefan so goddamn much and it doesn’t help that his best friend/favorite drinking buddy skipped town on him. He spends one whole year mourning his brother, wallowing in self-pity, and being the domesticated boyfriend to his Pre Med fiancé before he gets his shit together.

Inspired after binge watching Tidying Up on Netflix, Damon starts applying the Konmari method to the Boarding House. In the attic, he finds his bachelors of architecture along with a set of licenses he got for ‘shits and gigs’ back in the 80s and it sparks something in him. He was productive as a vampire, after all. Damon convinces Caroline to compel NCARB and the State Board of Contractors into reinstating his architect and contractor licenses – because that’s what family is for – and starts a design and contracting firm, working mostly on small tenant improvement projects in and around Mystic Falls. His first project is to renovate the Boarding House which he later hands over to Alaric to run the Salvatore School.

Damon and Elena get married in between the time she ends Pre Med and starts Med School. It’s a spontaneous ceremony at City Hall which Matt documents via Facebook Live. They make it through one year of marriage before things start to go south. With Elena now further away for Med School and Damon running his business in Mystic Falls, they barely make it work to see each other on weekends. Damon falls in love with a dilapidated old bar in the heart of town and purchases it, throwing himself into a major renovation. It serves as a nice distraction from the growing divide between him and the “love of his life.” Year two is the tipping point – Elena wants him to relocate closer her, Damon wants to continue growing his business in Mystic Falls and neither wants to compromise. They see each other even less and argue more until Elena admits she has been cheating on Damon with a colleague, and their decision to part ways is mutual. Not so epic love, after all.

The breakup isn’t as painful as he thought it would be since Elena and him were living separate lives already. He sells the property for which he planned to surprise his ex-wife with a family home and readjusts his plans for the bar to incorporate a second floor loft for himself. It takes Damon almost a full year to finish renovations on his pride and joy, Savior. Blood, sweat and tears went into preserving and restoring original, historic architectural features. He took great care in curating every single detail and it paid off because his bar was voted best in the county and has become the go-to place for intimate date nights and an impeccable drink selection.

Nine years after Bonnie hightailed it out of Mystic Falls for good, three years after founding Currently: Conquering and two-ish years after the grand opening of Savior, the former besties run into each other on the streets of Havana. The run and jump hug from when Bonnie resurrected herself from 90s Hell is relived and they play catch-up over medianoches. Bonnie is leading a group of travelers through Cuba for the next 10 days while Damon is on sabbatical to celebrate his thriving business ventures and divorce. He critiques the photo composition her latest ass shot posted to IG and she points out his new frown lines that would put Stefan’s to shame – and just like that, they’re besties all over again.

Bonnie invites him to join her tour group and having no set itinerary, Damon agrees. It’s truly refreshing to see Bonnie in her element. Bearing witness to the person she has grown into after the supernatural drama of yesteryear only reinforces Damon’s admiration of her. Having no real destination after Cuba, Damon piggybacks onto her next guided tour, leaning into the local culture that his best friend has grown to love so much. He even follows her to Costa Rica before he has to return home.

(Annnnnd that’s where it stopped)

Comments:

Does a similar fic already exist and I just don’t remember haven’t read it?

Would it be too much to ask for accurate characterization and spot-on snarky dialogue, and like, not written in first-person narrative?

Timing - I’ve estimated approx 9 years until Bamon meet up Cuba. Not sure if it makes logical sense with everything that happens in between.

Damon and Elena’s child(ren?) - didn’t consider them...the Gilbert’s shouldn’t procreate, IMO. I don’t plan on watching Legacies and not sure what is canon. The plot would need to be adjusted if included. Regarding the origins of Stefanie Salvatore - I’d say keep this character as DE’s spawn instead of rewriting as Bamon’s kid. Since Stefan killed Enzo, the name would be a sore spot for Bonnie.

Bonnie’s career - mimics that of Dr. Kiona who runs hownottotravellikeabasicbitch on IG - follow her! She’s awesome.

#bamon #bamon fanfic #super extra #headcanon #plot bunny #incomplete #to the void with love #please entertain me #I promise to love you forever #covid 19 delirium #things i obsessed over during lockdown #devil's in the detail #bonnie bennett #damon salvatore

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cagestark · 4 years

Text

Better Late Than Never//1

And Merry Christmas to YOU

Aka I started another project that I will take twenty years to finish. But @starkerflowers prompts were just too fucking good.

About: With interest in his work waning, famous writer Tony Stark (under the pseudonym AE Potts) changes his entire public relations platform, which includes hosting a meet-and-greet contest where one lucky fan will get to spend the day with him. That one lucky fan is Peter Parker. Peter is 21. Will contain nff, alcoholism, suicide attempts, character death (not major), drug mentions, anxiety, anxiety attacks.

Read here on AO3.

Tony is awakened from a drunken, dreamless sleep by a tub of envelopes and small packages being upended over his head. He jerks upright with a shout from where he was slumped over his writing desk, upending the (empty) bottle of whiskey that had lulled him to sleep. Pepper stands over him, impeccable in every way he is not.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, pushing envelopes off of where they have pooled on his lap. “You could have taken my eye out, Peppercorn. What are you trying to do, perform Lingchi on me? What is all this?”

“Fan mail,” she says. Her voice is stern and unsympathetic. The first time she’d found him passed out drunk over his desk, she had panicked and nearly called for an ambulance. The next handful of times she had just covered him with a blanket and regarded him with sad eyes the next morning when she brought him coffee. But those were ten years ago. Not to mention, all in her first few weeks on the job— “Social media is revolting. You never answer fan mail, you never do Q&A’s, you haven’t done an interview in almost a decade.”

“Fuck this,” Tony mutters, opening one drawer. “Where’s my whiskey?”

“In your bloodstream, I’d imagine. Don’t brush this off, Tony. Sales are waning. We need to make some serious changes in our PR or I’ll be putting in my two-weeks’ notice.”

That gets Tony’s attention. Pepper hadn’t threatened to quit after his last book when he’d killed off one of the most popular characters (one of his personal favorites, may she rest in fictional peace) and the public had flipped their shit. She hadn’t threatened to quit years before that when she walked in on him hunched over his desk with a straw to his nose, three sheets to the wind on far more than just whiskey. She has the disposition of a mountain: unflinching and ever-enduring.

“You mean it,” says Tony.

“I mean it.”

His shoulders sag. He glances around the room: the mess, the junk, the empty alcohol bottles, the half-finished manuscripts. There’s a strange feeling in the back of his throat, acidic, like he might throw up. Or cry. When his mouth opens to say something sarcastic, something about not letting the door hit her on the way out if she expects him to play nice with the media, all that comes out is a broken: “I can’t lose you, Pep.”

She puts a hand on his shoulder. “You will. If you don’t make some changes. Okay?”

Maybe this is what it means to be balanced on a knife’s edge, where one way ends in pain and the other ends in terminal inconvenience. But he knows which one he has to pick. His whole life is just a big inconvenience, but pain? Tony has spent enough time with his hand flat against the stove’s burner to know that he’d rather die than feel it again, rather die than lose one of the only people left who can stand him.

He picks up the closest letter and tears it open, blinking heavily to clear his eyes. Pepper leans down to press a kiss to the crown of his head and then gags. “Take a shower, when you get the chance,” she mutters, smiling.

The letters start off by being good for one thing: his ego. Adoring fans have been writing to his penname and business address for decades since he put out his first super-hero novel, titled IRON-MAN. Pepper has chosen to give him recent fan-mail, considering he’s spent so long ignoring it that if he were to answer them in order of reception, he might encounter fans who didn’t even remember the letters once sent. Or ones who were dead.

They are all variations of the same thing. The handwriting changes, gentle feminine cursive to childish scrawling to neat block lettering, but the message is usually the same. DEAR MR. POTTS. I’VE READ EVERY BOOK YOU’VE EVER WRITTEN. I GOT YOUR NAME TATTOOED ON MY ASS. IRON-MAN IS MY HERO. I’VE NEVER READ PROSE AS LOVELY AS YOURS. WHAT IS YOUR SECRET?

At Pepper’s request, Tony drafts a generic letter to send in response, something about how he can’t respond personally to every letter but he wants them to know that he’s read what they’ve written and ‘holds it close to his heart’.

“It’s good,” Pepper approves. “Sign them yourself.”

“Good?” Tony says. “I was joking—this letter is trash. Anyone who knows me would see this for the sarcasm it is—”

“Then thank God none of the fans know you,” Pepper responds coolly.

She has a point. Tony has existed in relative seclusion since he first began publishing his works at 24. After twenty years, he’d managed to remain mostly anonymous. A pseudonym does most of the work, including non-disclosure agreements for his employees. Any time a presence is required, he sends Rhodey or Happy or Pepper even. Theory pages abound on the internet, sites devoted to finding out who the real AE POTTS is. Even though one picture leaked of him during the early 2000’s (a grainy godforsaken thing that didn’t even show his best angle), there were still some disbelievers. One popular conspiracy theory is that AE is Pepper, considering Tony stole her last name to use as his own.

Maybe that’s why his declining image in the media bothers her so much.

A week later, Tony’s hand has a cramp the way it hasn’t since he was a little boy learning to write his letters. Freehand has never been his specialty—it’s far too slow for the way his mind works, bounding a sentence, a scene, a chapter ahead. Signing so many letters is going to freeze his hand in a claw like position. He’s sure of it.

Then Pepper drops the next bombshell on him: the contest.

“It goes against everything I’ve been working so hard to do for the last twenty years,” Tony shouts at the zenith of their argument. “I do not want to be known! I don’t want the fame; I just wanted the goddamn fortune, is that too much to ask for?”

“Times have changed,” Pepper says through her teeth. She holds her own, spine straight. She hasn’t shirked away from his angry outbursts ever, not even when they were children growing up together in Manhattan. “I’m not asking you to do a 20/20 Special. I’m not asking for an interview on Ellen. I’m asking for you to meet with one fan. Have a goddamn lunch with them. If you can’t handle that, then you can kiss your fortune goodbye. Mark my words.”

Tony marks them. He fucking marks them, okay? When he’s drinking himself blind, locked in his office (good luck getting in now, Pep), they ring around his skull like a dime in the dryer. Sometime around dawn, she picks the lock on the door and mops his brow while he vomits in the tiny trashcan beside his desk.

“I’m not doing this to torture you,” she says with uncharacteristic tenderness. Her hand on his forehead occasionally rifling through his greasy hair is not what’s making his eyes prickle with tears—it’s the vomiting. Honest. He’s not that touch-starved. “You know that, right? I hate seeing you like this.”

“I know,” he chokes miserably, gagging again. So he agrees to the Willy Wonka Initiative. Pepper puts out the word that the infamous AE POTTS will be selecting a single fan to meet face to face. Anyone eighteen or older is eligible to participate, as long as they write a letter explaining why they should get it blah blah blah. A golden ticket might have been funner. At least then Tony might have had an excuse to wear the tacky purple suit and tophat.

In the meantime, Pepper reveals that she’s been having Happy screen his mail to only show him the happy letters—figures. His hate mail isn’t extensive, but it certainly exists, having increased exponentially since he killed off Natasha in the last novel.

FUCKING MYSOGINISTIC ASSHOLE, Cheryl from Newport tenderly writes. YOU HAD ONE GOOD FEMALE CHARACTER, AND YOU KILLED HER OFF. I HOPE ANOTHER WOMAN NEVER LETS YOU BETWEEN THEIR LEGS AGAIN AND YOUR DICK SHRIVELS OFF.

Tony thinks that’s pretty succinct. He posts it up on his desk propped up against the last picture ever taken of him and his mother. Killing off Natasha had been an idea he’d personally revolted against for months. Sure, it made sense that sensitive, strong Natasha would be the one to sacrifice herself in order to stop the villain from succeeding in wiping out half the universe. It made sense for a woman to be the one to give her life to protect others.

After all, hadn’t his own mother died trying to protect Tony?

The weekend after the contest drops on their social media platforms, Pepper texts to tell him that it’s being received far, far better than they might have ever hoped for. Already dozens of letters had been received, letters which must have been penned and mailed just hours after the news had spread.

Joy, Tony texts back.

I haven’t told you the best news, she says. That’s how Tony knows that the next news will be the worst news, absolutely the worst news of all. You get to pick the fan.

“Any letter catching your eye?” Pepper asks him over lunch in his office.

“They’re all the same,” Tony laments. Even his own ego can only take so much stroking. After a while, the fan mail has become mostly routine and lackluster, though he keeps opening it, keeps signing the response letters, keeps sending them out. “I’m going to end up picking one at random, Pep.”

“I don’t care how you pick,” Pepper says. “As long as you do—and as long as you’re ready to suffer with the consequences of your choice.”

“Suffer? God, I love the light you bring into my life. The unending optimism. The unparalleled faith and trust in me.”

Her eyes glitter even as they roll. “If you like me so much, you can buy lunch next time.”

Tony snorts, taking a large bite from his burger. “Gold digger.”

“I’ve seen your taxes, Tony. These days, there isn’t much gold to dig for.”

“Ouch, kill shot.”

The letter arrives only one week before the contest deadline. In the top drawer of his desk are three other letters from potential winners, mostly picked at random, sometimes because Tony likes their handwriting, sometimes because they say something funny that actually makes him laugh. When he opens up the letter from Peter B. Parker, he scans the first lines not intending to be impressed.

Dear Mr. Potts, Peter writes.

I’ve written you so many letters that it should be easy by now. I don’t know why my hands are shaking. Maybe I’m nervous because I know for certain that this one, someone will actually read.

I received my first copy of IRON-MAN when I was eight years old—yes, a little bit heavy for a kid that age, but my parents had just died unexpectedly in a car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in, and my uncle gave me his first edition. Iron-man’s story was one of the only things that got through to me as a kid. His struggle to come to terms with losing his own parents, his loneliness, his fear. The way he overcomes all of that and still goes on to do good…yeah. It meant a lot to a grief-stricken kid. Obviously.

Pretty much every birthday and Christmas, I end up receiving one of your books as a gift. My family and friends know me so well, I have nearly a half-dozen copies of AVENGERS (it’s one of my favorites). The things you write about are so close to my heart, so close to some of the experiences I’ve had in real life. My struggle with mental illness. My abuse and neglect. And the way you write these things makes me think…fear, I guess…that maybe you know something about them too.

I would love to get to meet you and talk about your incredible books. I’d love to get to know you. Not going to lie, as a fanboy, I’d probably be happy to just sit at the same table with you and have a meal. I’ll buy. We don’t even have to talk (okay I swear I’m not as desperate as I sound!). I’m sure you’ve received so many awesome letters, and I know that the fan you pick will be so, so lucky.

(Every letter I write to you, I ask if you could please return my book. It’s been five years since I sent it. I’m sure you don’t even have it anymore, maybe you threw it away from the start. But if you do have it, even if you don’t pick me to win the contest, it would mean so much if you sent it back. When I mailed it to you in Jan. 2014, my uncle was still alive. He’s gone now…anyway it’s one of the only things of his that I have left.)

Your fan always,

PETER.

PS: please disregard the last letter I sent…obviously.

Tony rereads the letter twice. He feels a swirl of emotion in his stomach, not dissimilar to the queasiness after a long night of drinking. This—this is what he sacrificed by being so closed-off from his fans. While he’d known that his fans were real and obviously human, a part of him had never felt the magnitude of it before. These are people with feelings and experiences. This Parker kid (a self-proclaimed fanboy) lost his parents too, and far younger than Tony had. In a car accident.

Maybe Peter hadn’t been there, hadn’t been in the car, hadn’t watched his mother parents go up in flames, but it’s still a tragedy all in its own right. And all at eight years old. Jesus Christ. This kid has been looking up to him for ten years and more, and he had no fucking idea that kind of dysfunctional altar he’d been worshiping at.

Tony goes into the private bathroom connected to his office and gags up—nothing. Drool. But it still leaves his mouth slimy, so he brushes his teeth until he’s spitting pink into the sink, and when he catches sight of the haphazard reflection in the mirror, he pities it. He leans forward to touch foreheads with it, auto-intimacy. Do better, some voice in the back of his head says, but it’s not his voice.

Happy picks up his cellphone on the first ring. Of the ninth call.

“What do you fucking want, Tony?” he hisses into the receiver. “I’m at the movie theater seeing that new Star Wars. You made me go out into the lobby—”

“Then I’m doing you a favor,” Tony says, cracking open the cap on a sparkling water. “Look, I have important questions, I wouldn’t have called otherwise. My fan mail—how much of it has Pepper kept?”

“Jesus, how should I know? Totes and totes full, at least—”

“Brilliant—”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? I’m missing the movie!”

“Didn’t I say you’re not missing much? I’m asking you because Pepper will make me do it myself: I need you to find specific letters from one fan: Peter B. Parker. Address is Queens, but he could be from anywhere. I’m also especially interested in acquiring a package he sent me in January 2014.”

“Christ, could you be any more mysterious?” Happy mutters. “Text me the details you bastard, I’m not missing another moment of Mark Hamill.”

It turns out that Pepper is not only a saint in all ways previously mentioned, but she is a saint in this as well: his fan mail from the last ten years has been saved and meticulously organized by month and year of reception. Happy comes to Tony’s office in the city the next day with a package, the outside brittle but address clear.

The writing is the same script as the letter newly received from Peter, though the handwriting has become more mature over time. Neater. Confined. No more hasty slant from an enthusiastic hand. The kid’s contest entry is in the top drawer of Tony’s desk—the previous potential winners are now the cherries on top of the reject pile. His stomach is heavy as a stone while he tears open the five-year-old package.

Out tumbles a pre-addressed package that was meant to carry the book back to its owner, back to Peter. Then, one first edition of IRON-MAN, the cover a little tattered, the spine creaky. Also included is another letter, torn from a spiral notebook. He opens it with shaking hands.

DEAR MISTER POTTS

I KNOW THAT GETTING A RESPONSE FROM MY LETTERS IS A LONG SHOT, BUT I’M REALLY HOPING THAT YOU’LL AUTOGRAPH THIS COPY OF IRON-MAN AND RETURN IT TO ME. IT IS MY UNCLE BEN’S…

It goes on to describe how his Uncle’s birthday is coming up and Peter hopes to give the autographed book to his Uncle. Tony reads with a heavy heart, knowing now that Tony hadn’t bothered even opening the package, hadn’t tried to sign it—and even if he had, Ben hadn’t lived long enough to celebrate his next birthday. What a son of a bitch Tony is.

For the first time in three months, Tony goes home.

Most days he stays at the space he rents in the fancy Manhattan building, the one that holds his office and Pepper’s own workspace as well as the other people who work for him (Happy, Beck, Rhodey). The mansion outside Manhattan belonged to Tony’s father and his mother. When his mother had still been alive, it had been a cold place that he had endured staying at for her sake. After his mother had died, it had been a torture chamber, or worse—a stale, suffocating tomb.

Then Howard had died and somehow left it to Tony (probably out of some misguided duty to ‘keep it in the family’). Tony made a personal habit to visit it infrequently and stay there even less often; but Pepper maintains it for him, has it cleaned, keeps it safe. Uses it as storage, Tony knows. For his fan mail.

It takes up three entire rooms, floor to ceiling clear totes labeled with months and years. Just looking at it makes Tony feel small, ashamed of how little he cared about interacting with his fans. It’s no wonder sales were down. Searching for Peter’s letters would be like looking for a needle in a haystack—but he has to do it, and he can’t let Happy bear the brunt of the weight anymore either. This is on Tony.

So he begins pulling totes from the room and scattering their contents on the oaken table and floors of the dining room. Five hours and seven totes later, and Tony still has no letter from Peter.

Pepper finds him at midnight. She comes bursting in through the front door—Tony can hear the sound of the door colliding with the wall from the force she’s used—shouting his name. The hysteria in her voice chills him to the bone. It’s worse than the tone she uses when Tony fucks up; this is the tone she uses when there’s a Tragedy, when something is Wrong.

She finds him in the dining room surrounded by letters, kneeling up from where he was slumped on the floor. He must be a sight, but she is one too, her hair a mess, her eyes red. When she sees him, all the breath goes out of her, one hand clutching at her breast as the other grabs the back of a chair for support.

“Jesus, Pep, what’s happened? Is it your father, another heart attack—?”

“Why don’t you ever answer your goddamn phone, you bastard!” She says through heaving breaths. “You don’t leave the office for weeks and suddenly no one can find you, you won’t pick up your phone—”

It takes a long moment for the pieces to connect.

“Oh Christ,” Tony says, chidingly. “What, you were scared for me?”

She slumps into one chair and puts her face into her well-manicured hands. Tony drops back onto his ass. He’s not a good man, not a sensitive man. The last woman who had cried in front of him was his mother, and look at all the ways he had failed her. But the longer he sits letting Pepper cry, the more it feels like bamboo shoots growing under his tender fingernails. Fuck it. He gets up, knees creaking, and goes to her.

They sit side by side at the dining table no one has eaten at in twelve years. Pepper leans into him, her thin shoulders shaking. Shame makes his own eyes burn, because he thought what did she have to be afraid of? But maybe she saw his car in the driveway of the unhappy home he avoids and assumed that he’d come here to Hemingway himself. Maybe she sat in the drive steeling herself to come into the sight of his body.

“I’m going through the fan mail,” Tony says at last.

“I can see that,” she says. Her scathing tone drips with tears.

“I’m okay, Pep,” he says. He’s not sure if it’s true. He’s not sure if he’s been okay ever since he blinked awake upside down and suspended by the seatbelt in the back seat of his mother’s Cadillac, glass littering the roof (and the roof had become the floor, then, see? Because they were upside down), the smell of gas and smoke in his nose). Maybe he’s not okay. Maybe it’s all a fucking lie, but he’s not going to off himself. Not when there’s a mystery afoot. “I promise.”

She nods, one damp hand reaching out blindly for his. It’s an awkward angle to hold hands at, but he doesn’t complain. And awkward or not, it feels nice to be touched in a kind, even platonic way.

“What are you looking for?” Pepper asks at last, wiping at the wet, swollen skin beneath her eyes.

“Why? You want to help?” Tony asks.

“Might as well,” she says. “I always do your heavy lifting, don’t I?”

With Pepper’s help, they find the first letter. Somehow the Willy Wonka Initiative has reversed until Tony feels like a kid, ripping open chocolate bars, desperate for a glimpse of gold. At dawn, a cry echoes in the dining room startling Tony from where he was slumping against a tote, dozing.

“I’ve got one, Tony!” Pepper shouts. She’s barefoot, her panty hose taken off and folded on the table, her sensible jacket removed and slung over the back of a chair. Her rumpled shirt and tendrils coming free from her ponytail reveal how much energy she’s been putting into this with him—maybe to make up for her emotional outburst earlier, maybe like a mother humoring a child’s singular beneficial interest. “From Peter B. Parker, address is Queens, same as before.”

“What’s the date?” Tony asks. He slips in a pile of letters from last August and nearly breaks his neck. Wishful fucking thinking.

“Last May. Here—”

Tony takes the letter and collapses in a chair, his lower back grateful for the support. He recognizes Peter’s handwriting as he tears the letter open, and he can feel Pepper’s presence over his shoulder, reading along with him.

This letter is different from the others. Tony knows it right away. The first indication should have been the date; Tony’s most recent novel dropped early May of last year. His most controversial work to date, with praise glorious and venomous in kind. Which way did the scales tip when it came to Peter, Tony wonders.

I know that you won’t read this. I’ve written you twice a year since I was ten years old, and you’ve never written back. I don’t blame you. I’m sure you’re busy—I guess I just needed to get these words down somewhere, so that they exist, so that somewhere there is a record of me after I’m dead.

Tony reads the rest in a dazed blur. At one point, Pepper’s hand lifts to press against her mouth, but still they read on, huddled together for convenience and then for comfort.

In the letter, Peter describes the tragedy of his uncle’s death and how he felt personally responsible, and how after months of guilt, when he’d read about Natasha’s sacrifice, he’d decided to take action. Against himself.

If someone’s death can do so much good in the world, Peter wrote with shaky script. Then maybe mine could too. I’m not deluded or anything. I know that I’m not a superhero and that I’m not fighting against some sanctimonious super villain. But I feel like if my death could make May’s life easier, then I have to do it.

“Jesus. Tony, don’t read this—” Pepper reaches out for the letter but Tony nearly rips it in half trying to keep it away from her.

It’s not just for May, Peter admits. I’m ready to stop hurting, too.

Peter signs off, for good. Only it hadn’t been for good—Peter’s most recent letter had obviously proven that, and hadn’t he written it himself? Ignore my last letter, obviously, he’d said. Something must have changed Peter’s mind, but one thing was clear: it hadn’t been Tony. Because Tony had been so self-absorbed, so tangled in his own grief and ego and addictions he hadn’t even read the letter. If Pepper hadn’t saved it, then it might have been destroyed, no record left of Peter’s words at all.

“Tony,” Pepper says. She takes the letter from his fingers and he lets it go. His hands are numb. “This isn’t your fault. Peter obviously was unstable—he’d just watched his uncle being murdered in front of him. No one in their right mind would read Natasha’s death and think that you were encouraging them to take their own life.”

“I know that,” Tony snaps. Lying. Then: “I’m not an idiot, Pep.”

Maybe the biggest lie of all.

#starker #writer!tony #fan!peter #tw: alcoholism #tw: drugs #tw: suicide attempt #cagewrites

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ilovemybarricadebabies · 4 years

Text

another fanfic ask game post! enjoy!

This time I’m doing these questions!

Inspiration and Reading Questions:

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

Reading: I’m not sure. Maybe 2011/2012

Writing: 2013

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

It’s definitely both, but I wouldn’t call it a perfect 50/50 split. It varies. Sometimes I read more, but write less or vice versa.

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do.

Not really. I usually just write fics for whatever I want to.

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

Current favorite WIPs.

All That’s Left by @doriangrayscale

flowers for your grave by @grantairesbottle

Lover of the Light by @areyoumiserableyet

Favorite (four) all-time fics

Ask me no question (and I’ll tell you no lies) by Signe_chan

If you offer salvation, I will run (into your arms) by mornmeril

this is fact not fiction by Rianne

Oh, It’s What You Do To Me by captainskellington

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something.

I have a love-hate relationship with slow burn fics. Like I love them because give me the pining, give me the obliviousness, give me the amazing, sweeping first kiss, give me the angst, just give me all the delicious development that comes with finding common ground and falling in love. That being said, however, and I realize that I’m in the minority here, the hate part comes in when the story is really long, let’s 50+ chapters, and the story gets to chapter 50, but the romance still hasn’t started coming into play and I’m starting to just get sick of it because nothing has progressed to romance. Like there gets to be a time where too much is too much and usually, when that happens, it’s time for me to say adios! to the story.

6. How do you find new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction.

I primarily read fics on Ao3. I loathe FFN.net with every fiber of my being.

I usually just leave the Enjolras/Grantaire category open on and refresh it like three to four times a day for new stories to read.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics?

It depends on the ship, but I mostly like long fics.

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like?

I’m absolutely horrid at commenting (I’m working on getting better), but if it’s a story that I really like (ex. the three WIPs mentioned in question 4), I will comment every time there is a new chapter.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

I have no idea. In my opinion, I think all writers are underrated and unknown.

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Enjolras and Grantaire (Enjoltaire) from Les Mis.

Fanfiction Writing Asks:

11. How do you come up with your fic titles?

Through music or quotes. Sometimes one just comes to me, but mostly through music or quotes.

12. Tell the author your favorite fics title of theirs (not the fics, stricktly the title). Author: what’s your favorite title you’ve come up with and why?

I love all the titles of my fics, I can’t possibly pick a favorite.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just look at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

I make some sort of outline, but I don’t think they’d really get much of a headache since it’s pretty much just a basic plot, maybe sometimes a little more than that.

14. Do you have personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not?

Absolutely not! I write until I think I’ve found a good quitting spot. That can be 500 words or 20k words. It all depends on how I’m feeling and where my motivation is at.

15. Tell the author your favorite fics of theirs. What’s your (the author’s) favorite fic you’ve written?

Forever Was In His Eyes is my favorite with Begin Again as a close second.

Honorable mention because it pushed me out of my comfort zone: Beating of Our One Heart.

16. Do you research your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you down by accident while researching?

I only research if the fic absolutely calls for it.

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

On a scale of 1-100, 100. I’m not motivated by feedback like some writers are, but I do love to know if someone is enjoying my fic or not.

18. Do you have WIP that you keep telling yourself that you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably lie?

Nope. Any WIPs that are unfinished, will probably stay unfinished.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)?

I edit, and then, I’m constantly editing after it’s posted. If I re-read one of my fics and spot a spelling mistake, I can’t just let it sit there, I HAVE to fix it. I am also currently in the middle of long and giant editing project to make sure all my stories are the best stories that they can.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Um...I, for some strange reason, love outlining. I love coming up with the sequence of events. How do the characters get from point A to point B. How does the story end.

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Editing and revising. Always.

22. Do you take fic requests? If so, for what characters and why?

Nope. I don’t get enough attention in my inbox to do that.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

Forbidden love. I’ve always been such a sucker for this trope.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

I’m sure that there are some tropes that I would never touch in a million years, but I can’t think of any write now.

25. Do you listen to music as your write? If possible, link your writing playlist.

I listen to music, but I don’t have a playlist. Most of time it’s just Taylor Swift.

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing?

Um...if I’m watching a brand new TV show or one I haven’t watched in a long time, I’ll pay more attention to the screen then what I’m supposed to be writing. This goes for movies too.

27, Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random?

I keep my fics under lock and key until they are finished. No one knows any details about them except me. The one exception to this rule was Beating of Our One Heart. I warned that that fic would feature a polyamorous relationship (something I have never written before) while I was working on the outline.

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

Well, the only pressure I usually feel is worry that people won’t like my story, but I think that’s normal for every writer.

29. Have you ever written for an exchange or event of some kind? Which one(s)?

I don’t write for events.

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

R (11:46 P.M.): I’m not sorry.

31. Of the characters your write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain one?

I love writing Enjolras. I’m sure people who have read my fanfics find him to be OOC, but I don’t care. When I write him, he’s half me projecting and the other half is him being the righteous revolutionary that we know him as.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?

I can’t pick three, I have too many favorites.

33. What do you like writing better: one shots or multi-chapter stuff?

It depends. I like writing both. I also really like writing one shots that are 30k+ and multi-chapter fics that are under 10k. It all just depends on my mood and what the fic calls for.

34. How much of yourself and your life experience do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

As stated above, I project onto Enjolras. How much, I’m not saying. I do put my likes and dislikes as the characters’. When I write children, I draw inspiration from my nephews. I use my high school class schedule as the characters’ schedule when I write high school AU’s. The jest of what I’m saying is that I have no idea what my readers’ image of me is.

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

It’s become my escape when things get too difficult or stressful.

36. Are they any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been apart of?

I’m not embarrassed by it, and I never finished or posted it, but I started writing a Sound of Music fic. I don’t remember what it was about, though.

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write.

My current WIP is almost done. I just have to finish writing more scene.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

It’s very tame, so 1. I write my stories in order of events, if I don’t I get confused on what’s happen. I start by writing an outline, and then I write and I edit (multiple times) before I post.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

That I write what I want to. No comments can really influence the story (unless it’s a consistency thing) because I write the whole thing out before it’s posted.

40. How did you come up with the idea for [x fic]?

You can see this answer right here!

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on Tumblr, most hits/kudos on Ao3)?

My most popular fic based on hits: Somethings Are Meant to Be.

My most popular fic based on kudos: The Enjolras Guide to Weddings and Love.

42. Asker: pick three of the author’s works. Author: rank them 1 (the best) - 3 (the worst) based on whatever criteria you want - this could be something totally random that isn’t quality related ( like simply ranking fics based on how many trains appear in them) have fun!

I’m skipping this question!

43. Talk about a positive experience with fanfiction or the fanfiction community that you will always remember.

Every comment that I get, especially if I get it when I’m having a bad day, is like a little ray of sunshine for me. Again I’m not motivated by comments or feedback, but I can’t deny that receiving it is like a cherry on top of a delicious hot fudge sundae.

44. Ran about something writing related.

How long it takes to write. I wish I could just connect some sort of machine to my brain, and it would just churn out the words for my fics and they could be done a lot sooner. And that fanfiction could come before homework and life, but alas it can’t.

45. Fic specific questions - if you have any weird questions about specific works, here’s your shot to ask them!

Skipping this one, but if you have a question about any of my fics, my ask box is currently closed, but my DM’s are always open.

#fanfic asks #personal post #ask game #long post #fic writing

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throwing-summers-at-the-walls · 4 years

Note

Hello half valid anon here (i like my nickname 😂). I got through all your fics and they were all great. Right now im just reading a lot of poi fanfics and watch fanvids cause i can't accept that the series is over 😂 --- i know what you mean about fics affecting you negatively. I had this with 13rw (the Show and some fics) everything was so dark and hopeless that i had to stop watching it. I also love to seek out fics where someone is hurt so i can feel my pain through the characters (1)

But i try to read only fics with lots of comfort so it kinda feels like i get comforted as well (dont know if that makes sense). If it makes you uncomfortable or if its unhealthy for you to write about this i completely understand and i dont mean to come of as pushing you to write. I just hope whatever you do will be the right decision for you! As for you feeling suicidal im sorry to hear that. Let me know if there is ever anything i can do to help! I wish i could say sth more comforting but Im not super good with words :( i just hope you have people in your life that support you! 💛

maybe root will grow on you too? Or maybe you can skip her scenes and enjoy John, Harold and most importanly Bear! 😂 Yeah Shaw definately looks really good. She is a bit like Reese minus the caring. At first it seems she doesnt care about anything at all but thats not exactly the Case. There was an episode with Shaw and a little girl (3x5) and i really loved it (have you seen that one?).

I really think Shaw would grow on you (especially since in the beginning she does a lot with John) but then again a lot of her later scenes include Root so im not sure. Yes i love that there were never any romantic undertones with her and John!!

yeah the core four were great. I was so sad when Carter died! :(

i guess everyone sees chemistry different, i think Shoot and Rinch post have great chemistry ☺️

as for John being good with people: YES!! he is always so compassionate and such a great listener as well. I especially like him with children. John and the baby were so cute or John with the boy who offered to pay for him. John + Kids was always a great combination and i wished we would have seen it more often. Also regarding children we did we never got to see a John Taylor scene after Carters death? I needed that!

yes John the badass is also amazing! His character has so many different sides and i love him so much!!

i think Grace Harold was really cute but i dont really see a future for them, i mean he lied to her for so long! but then again they really loved each other so idk maybe they work it out. Im also not into John/Harold/Grace but like you said good for the people who like the ship :)

John and Zoe were great! i wish Zoe would have appeared more often!

I have so many things to say about John and the boring therapist but i think i better not say them :D i wish i could just erase their relationship from my mind!

of course he didnt die! i didnt see a dead body so i refuse to believe he is dead! i also just wanted them to be happy. what kind of an ending is it to let the main character die? i refuse to accept this! -- thank you for the rec i will check it out :) while i do like fluff i mostly read h/c (with the focus on the comfort) cause i just want John to get his much needed comfort :D -- i have no idea where season 1 is supposed to be boring. but idc the people can live with their wrong opinions :D

(today: tumblr user nourann3 discovers the option to indent text after almost 5 years on tumblr...)

Hiii !! It is a very valid nickname 😂 That's nice !! Hmu if you want more recs ! Lol same honestly, I can't believe it's been 4 years since the show ended ! I can give you a link to my poi/Rinch fanvids playlist if you're interested 👀

Oh boi 13rw is so cursed, can't believe I watched all of the 1st season 😬 I remember being afraid of the suicide scene making me uncomfortable but it was so cringe, unrealistic and just bad that I wasn't even that uncomfortable, I cringed when she cut her arms but that's it.

Yeah big mood I project a lot on comfort fics as well. For suicide fics, I think it also depends on how the fics adress the subject. It's something that is complicated to write. If I read a suicide fic with no recovery I'm gonna project but feel like shit. But with recovery, I can project into the recovery as well so it's better ! I read a really good ace attorney fic showing Miles recovering after a suicide attempt, it was thoughtful and didn't fall into the pitfalls of magical super fast recovery/love heals everything, and some lines stuck with me, it was really good and comforting. But yeah if it's just a suicide/suicide attempt then I don't think it's good for me (but sometimes I still read it bc I'm a Dumb Bitch).

Dw you didn't come off as pushing 💜 I'll see how I feel about continuing it or not. I have to figure out if writing about suicide is positive or negative for me 🤔 I mean I'm not portraying John's suicidal crisis as a positive thing, and he reaches out to Harold, and considers he might get better so I don't think it's bad for me ? Another problem is that I have a tendency to drop my wips to write a new shiny idea I get, and then I never finish anything gkgkffjfjf I dropped the suicide fic for the body horror fic which I dropped for the time loop fic, and there's also the hanahaki fic I started last year but I haven't touched in months, plus a bunch of random shit floating around OneDrive lmao someone stop me

What helps the most is venting, just getting that shit out is helping y'know. I appreciate your support ♥️ at least it's not as bad as it used to be

I doubt Root will grow on me, catch me watching her scenes at 1.5 speed lmao, also yes you bet I'll enjoy watching them !!

Yes I remember that ep ! Iirc the little girl tells Shaw she has feelings but the volume is lower than in other people or smth along those lines ?

I hope she'll grow on me bc she seems cool. I remember I was a bit afraid of her just becoming a sort of hollow copy of John, like "look we added another badass to the show". Seems to be more than that though ! Also I'm curious about their mayhem twins dynamic. But yeah if she has a lot of scenes with Root idk how much it'll annoy me

I feel like I wouldn't be able to get the Shoot chemistry bc I'm too biased against Root lol

Ikr the crossing hurt me so much. But thinking about it takes me back to my careese days and my first fics lol. I feel like the death of one of the core four + the abandonment of the library really alienated me from the show (did I already say that before ?). And here I'm gonna shamelessly derail from Carter to the library bc boiii do I have a lot of feelings about the library !! And you're here, talking about poi, so you're the perfect subject to throw these feelings at. This post really says what I feel about it (I'll put the link at the end as well if you wanna read it after you're done with this l o n g reply). It was in a way its own character and its forced abandonment/destruction really hit me (fucked me up when they broke that glass board). It says something that it's one of the few things I remember from S3 along with Carter's death and 4C. I loved it a lot, it was a cornerstone of the show. It was a safe place, a home for Harold and John (and Bear !). I love when they're together in there, I love this cracked glass board, this yellow stained glass in the windows !!! (at least I assume it's stained glass ?), these lights, Bear's cushion, the whole cozy/safe/isolated feelings, just absolutely everything. And yeah later they have the subway, idk when it's introduced I don't remember if it's early enough for me to have watched it. And maybe it's nice, I can't judge rn. But it's like trying to give me a new MC after a MCD, make him as nice as you want I'll be clutching the previous MC until I die. Gkfkfkff I went overboard and off topic but I just love the library ok

Ikr I love how he's badass but also gentle and understanding and nice to people ! I love him !!! Yeah wolf and cub is really good, also I love when John smiles to Darren at the end !! I use this moment as my pfp bc I love it so much. He's just so cute ! I wish he smiled more (did we ever hear him laugh in the entirety of the show ?). Baby blue is so great, Harold and him are such a married couple in this ep ! Yeah same more content with John and children would have been nice.

I never thought about how much we needed a John Taylor scene but yes !! We were robbed :((((

Speaking of John being a cool badass. Here's a badass John vid rec it's super good

youtube

Yeah they were cute in the past. I think it's good he went back to her bc it gives closure to both of them. But I don't see their relationship working again. She grieved, probably started to move on after all these years and knowing he lied all this time probably won't make her want to go back with him. I've never been in love so what do I know lol, but were I her I probably wouldn't want to go back with him and I'd just be happy knowing he's alive after all.

Same I need more Zoe (also she's hot)

Lmao let's just forget about that weird relationship shall we

Aren't we all the same, firmly believing he's alive and happy out there ! It was foreshadowed since the first ep and it made sense but do I care ? No, fuck that shit John is very much alive

You're welcome ! John needs all the comfort and the love !!! I think I have a preference for fluff bc he gets hurt enough in the show lol

Indeed they can, veryyy far away from us

Sry if this is shit I have like half a functioning braincell today

The post abt home bases I mentioned

#half valid anon #look you have your own tag #person of interest #tw suicide #i thought I was done but then i got feelings abt the library

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sfblah · 4 years

Note

1,5,6? c:

Oh my, let’s see...

I think I figured out the “read more” thing for asks, so... Answers after? I hope?

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

So I guess my main ongoing project is my isekai-inspired series that I gave an obnoxiously long title but usually shorten to “A Third Chance At Life In Another World.” It started off as pretty much entirely a sneeze fetish tribute to anime like Kon/osu/ba, and I guess that’s mostly what it still is now. The characters are very anime and the 1st person protagonist is pretty much just a self-insert, but hey, it’s been fun so far.

More recently the series has somewhat become an outlet for my frustrations and depression, and I think this has had, er, mixed results. I’m probably going to dial that back in the future, but that influence will still be there.

On that note, I have another chapter currently in progress and plans for a few more after that, but it’s slow going. I’ve also had these grandiose plans for other series set in the same universe that would eventually all tie together in the end for a proper finale, but I almost feel like I’m reaching for too much with all that. I dunno, maybe I’ll still get to all that someday.

Aside from that, I’ve also spent some time planning out a whole new series that would almost be like an updated successor to my ye olde Adventure Club stories. It wouldn’t be “interactive” like the Adventure Club was, but more in the sense that it would recapture that “goofy students having wacky hijinks at school” theme, this time centering on a group of monsterfolk friends taking night classes at a university where monsters are a common part of the world.

I have two characters that are pretty well fleshed out, one that’s maybe halfway there, and then a fourth that’s barely more than a concept, so I’ve stalled out a bit. On top of that, I have a setting and a framework for the main characters, but I really don’t know what to do with them in terms of story. I genuinely can’t come up with anything plot-wise, be it larger adventure stories or random fun moments. I’m hoping not to abandon these characters since I really do like them already, but they’re definitely on the back burner for now until I can think of something to do with them.

Lastly I also have a non-fetish novel that I really need to finish someday. I wrote like 19k words on it way back when, but I haven’t touched it in probably 2 years now. I still think about it all the time, but I keep sliding into that writing pitfall of feeling like it will turn out to totally suck and/or completely fail at conveying the message I want it to. Maybe someday.

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

It’s kind of hard to say, honestly. I did just say Jim from A Third Chance is a self-insert, but I’m also fully aware that he’s very simplified, and for the most part I’ve just kinda used him to write whatever I want. I really should sit down one of these days and figure him out as a proper character, but he doesn’t really stand on his own as of now.

I haven’t written anything about them in a long time, but I think the characters I’ve identified with most are the protagonists from the Adventure Club stories, and none of my newer OCs have really filled that void since then. I didn’t entirely do this on purpose, but eventually I realized that all four of them really are reflective of different aspects of myself, or at least who I was back when I came up with them.

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Oh man, another one that’s hard to decide.

I suppose most recently, both Plume and Sophie in A Nose For Trouble were a ton of fun to write. The whole story was just so wacky and self-indulgent I couldn’t help but have fun with it.

I really do like all the isekai characters, but I think my favorite has to be Komithe. I’m actually kind of relieved that Penny seems to be the most popular among readers, since at first I was worried it would be super obvious Komithe was my favorite and it would seem like I was playing favorites with her over the others. Komithe is just such a lovable weirdo, and I really enjoy that kuudere archetype if you’ll pardon my weebspeak.

Tangentially related, I have an upcoming character who I think will be really fun to write. Either that or they’ll be super annoying, we’ll see...

#asks

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dredshirtroberts · 4 years

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I’m bored and found this having been done by a blog I admire, @vinceaddams. Plus, I - like my projection-favorite Dragon Age Inquisition Character, Dorian Pavus - love talking about myself.

1. Name : I have many and much. I’m currently playing with the name Eyrelain/e (undecided about the final e) but for the purposes of simplicity and what I’ll generally answer to, just call me M.

2. Zodiac : Aries sun, Taurus moon, and either Leo or Pisces rising but I’ve never been able to get that one clear on my birth charts lol.

3. Height : 5′3" roughly.

4. What time is it ? 11:57pm as of just now - it will be much later by the time I finish this

5. Favourite musician / group ? I’ve always hated this question on these things. I barely know what I’m listening to at any given time, let alone have a favorite out of them all. I just like music.

6. Favorite sport team ? If pressed (and generally if I’m around my family) I state one of the Washington DC teams - and to be fair those are pretty much the only ones I’m familiar with. But honestly I have fallen out of touch with the sportsball games and will have to work extra hard to get back into the, ah, swing of things as it were. Mostly the only sport I give a shit about is Hockey and that’s mostly because I find the players extremely attractive. Something about Russians missing teeth just really does it for me, apparently.

7. Other blogs : @witchwraytohome is mostly aesthetic with some roughly witchcraft-y, spiritual-ish bullshit fleckled in there. @adara-et-al is where I’m trying to put shit about my original characters but I’m bad at keeping up with these things so it’s not well fleshed out yet. @lia-and-em-adventure-in-thedas is a joint blog with @sumomoblossom77 for the fic I’m working on - we’re mostly keeping references and stuff there for now, but maybe one day the fic will go up there too. Once i’m finished with it anyway.

8. Do I get asks ? lol no. Maybe one or two in a blue moon but generally those are from friends who send me DMs usually. I’m not against asks, of course, so please send those on if you have them!

9. How many blogs do I follow : 80, apparently - higher than I thought it was the last I checked but then again I have a terrible memory and do not check often.

10. Any tumblr crushes ? Nah, but not really any crushes right now either.

11. Lucky number : 3, 5, and 6 tend to be numbers that come up frequently for me and portend nice things. Multiples also count, because lucky numbers are what you make them.

12. What am I wearing right now : a pair of quickly falling apart jeggings, and a really fuckin soft old navy sweater-shirt my mom got me for xmas. it’s so soft. It’s also a lovely dark taupe color

13. Dream vacation : 1) any vacation would be a dream vacation right now. 2) I’d love to travel to Japan. And if I’m in Japan why not go ahead and hit up S Korea, and Taiwan, and China and Hong Kong, and then let’s just go ahead and get all the pacific islands, the Philippines, and head down to New Zealand to head that off there. 3) Of course that’s not taking into account wanting to go further west from there, Tibet, India, Russia, idk maybe the whole middle east. Then do I go down into Africa and start making my way through there? Clearly with the trajectory I’m on I’d start in Egypt and make my way down south from there. Or do I go the opposite direction and take on Europe? Pretty much what I’m getting at here is I’d one day like to travel the entire globe - take like...at least a year probably more, and just explore the world. Eat in every country. Enjoy life. Idk...it’s a dream.

14. Dream car : One that isn’t almost 20 years old would be nice. less than 100k miles on it would be *excellent*, but I know that’s asking for a lot. Gotta have A/C and working windows. A relatively new sound system would be great, so the radio isn’t jangly (though honestly a working radio is enough). If I can hook up my phone to play music - AND A CD PLAYER, IT HAS TO HAVE A CD PLAYER. And her hair whatever color it please god.

15. Favourite food: I’m gonna have to say steak and/or sushi. I will ALWAYS be down for either. Or Mexican food of any sort. Seriously, you want to win me over? Feed me in general. If you feed me Mexican food (god, especially authentic central or Gulf coast mexican food yaasss) I’ll be yours forever.

16. Drink of choice : If we’re talking alcohol, always a margarita. I’m a tequila bitch for sure. Non-alcoholic, diet cola (whatever brand I’m really not picky). Though I have found these fun little powder things my parents use called ZipFizz and boy howdy are those tasty as FUCK.

17. Languages : English, very little Spanish, German and French. I’ve been learning a few fantasy languages for fic I’m writing (where Spanish, German and French will come into play, so I imagine I’ll learn those more too). Oh and Latin. I know a little of Latin. It’s not a lot and it’s not great but it could be worse.

18. Instruments : I used to play piano - I technically still can but it’s not very good at all. I tried playing bass guitar which was...alright. I did not go very far with it. I played the recorder for class in elementary school like most everyone else did, and that was...interesting.

19. Celebrity crushes : no one, really, right now. I’m kinda figuring myself out a little and haven’t really processed attraction past “they’re kinda fit, wonder if they’re an alright person to get to know” and then realize that there’s no way I’d ever get to know them as a person outside of their fame and celebrity so I just kinda drop it. ‘S not worth the time or effort honestly.

20. Random Fact : All my old injuries that bother me are completely invisible from the surface - my one that crops up the most is my knee(s) but from the outside nothing looks the matter with them (unless the start swelling but that doesn’t happen as much anymore). Second most easily aggravated is my shoulder that also has no outward sign of having been an injury. Third most easily aggravated and honestly rarely rears its head unless I do something immensely stupid or it’s bitter fucking cold outside, is my right ribs. I got knocked really hard and they were cracked but not broken but I was also, like 10 when it happened and I’m fairly certain they healed slightly incorrectly. Sometimes it feels like I’ve got light bruising and sometimes it’s like they’ve just been injured (depending on the cause of the aggravation). I do not have good scars to show people to be like “yeah this acts up because I was stabbed in the jellies but it’s fine except during low-pressure weather”. I just all the sudden cannot stand up right, or reach over my head properly and I have to deal with it.

#about me #i tag anyone who wants to complete this

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twilight-adamo · 5 years

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Author’s Notes: Brave New World, Chapter 5: What’s Past is Prologue

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19709434/chapters/49462937

As a bit of random trivia, this is the first thing I’ve written set in New Orleans that I’ve actually released publicly. It is also, due to the way I title chapters (their filenames are just the chapter numbers; I don’t decide on a title until I’ve finished), the only thing I’ve written set in New Orleans that never, not once, not even as a working title, borne the title “House of the Rising Sun”. I can’t help it: the song and the city chase each other endlessly in my mind. I’ve been to New Orleans once, about six years after Katrina, and fell in love with the place. I haven’t managed to make it back in the eight years since. I’d quite like to return.

I keep track of the timeline in my outline for the story. It’s late July 2005 in this chapter; in a little over a month, well after BEAR have left, Katrina will hit. I hadn’t remembered until I started digging into the city’s history, trying to figure out where the plotline would fit, but I’m brushing up against it here. The gang will undoubtedly hear about it. I’m not yet sure how it will impact them, beyond general sorrow, but I’m pondering it.

(About BEAR: a reader on FFN - MooNOrchiD, if you’re reading this, hi - pointed out the acronym for Bella, Emmett, Alice and Rosalie. I’ve been using it in my notes. It’s damned convenient, and it makes me giggle.)

Anyway, the chapter title ended up being another quote from The Tempest, one I’m not using as a book title in the trilogy or extended Tempestverse. I’d considered “The Past is Never Dead,” from the Faulkner quote - “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” - but when I remembered “What’s past is prologue,” and more, that it came from the play from which I borrowed the name of this AU as well as the titles of the stories within, well. It seemed a perfect match.

Once I hit last chapter’s reveal, I really couldn’t think of much reason why Alice would want to keep hanging around the site of her death and revival, and the slaughter she committed as a newborn vampire. And I was eager to get to New Orleans. So if it seems abrupt, well, it is a bit abrupt. It surprised even me. But the asylum has served its purpose, at least for the time being.

I’m trying to balance the episodes of cognitive dissonance and general weirdness Bella is experiencing against the fact that this isn’t really about her - as she herself acknowledges, and that’s why she tries to hide this latest one from Alice, though she doesn’t end up managing it. I also generally don’t want to have too many of them too close together. It’s part of a thread that will continue throughout this book, and there will be more to them in time, but this section of the story, for all that Bella is still narrating and this necessarily limits our perspective, is Alice’s first and foremost. It’s a tricky balance to strike, and I admit I’ve occasionally considered trading Bella’s perspective for someone else’s (not just in this part of the story). But that’s a narrative shift that should be used sparingly, if at all, and I would prefer to leave most of the other characters’ perspectives to These Our Actors. Besides, the very thought of writing from Alice’s perspective, with all her slipping between the present, the future, and now the past, gives me a headache.

I’ve played fast and loose with Alice’s visions of the future in the past, and more so since Bella started altering her powers - I had a reader early on tell me that wasn’t how her powers worked, and while I think Meyer’s descriptions are inconsistent, I can’t say they were entirely wrong about that. Still, in many ways, Alice’s power is one of narrative convenience, and it was inconvenient for me to have her instantly able to see everything. So I decided, and I think this is reasonable, that Alice needed time to learn to control her power to see the future (and still doesn’t have complete control, at that), and will similarly need time to learn to control her power to see the past. For now, she can follow threads, but there are shifting and vaguely defined limits that even she doesn’t fully understand. All will be revealed in time, or at least enough of a story to get along with.

I really want to make Alice and Bella’s relationship healthy, loving, and open, for all that they’re going to have their problems, same as any other couple. I hope I’m succeeding. It definitely seemed to me that she would pick up on Bella’s distress - there’s very little she fails to notice - and that she would expect honesty in their relationship, even if the truth is painful or difficult.

Bella’s relationship and history with magic is going to be a thread throughout both this book and the next, so I wanted to spend a little more time fleshing out her perspective, and with Rose being a novice witch, that afforded me the opportunity to do so. The conversation took a briefly maudlin turn that tread over a lot of territory from the previous chapter before I cut that bit and brought it to a different inclusion. The outtake will be under the cut at the end of this post.

5513 St. Charles Avenue, New Orleans, does not exist. The spot where it would stand is a playground. I didn’t want to associate any real homes with a fictional haunting (and of course I could hardly resist throwing a thirteen in there when the opportunity arose). But it’s in roughly the right location, I think, for a double gallery home once owned by a decently wealthy family.

Now we get to some of the larger changes. I’ve already started altering Alice’s story substantially, as I discussed in the author’s notes for the previous chapter. Here we have another significant change: in the backstory established by Stephenie Meyer, Alice’s mother was murdered, but it was ruled an accident by the authorities. Only Alice’s visions indicated it was homicide. Here, it’s widely known to be murder, but there’s a scapegoat in the form of the Axeman of New Orleans.

The Axeman is a real serial killer from the early 20th century, and while there have certainly been suspects, his true identity is still unknown, as is his motive. There are those who believe he targeted women specifically, only attacking men when they happened to be around his intended victims. Because many of the victims were Italian immigrants (many, but not all), some contemporary commentators tied him to the Mafia. The letter he allegedly wrote demanding jazz bands playing in every house that wished to go unscathed, well, I tend to agree with those who think it was a hoax, though there are wilder theories claiming it wasn’t, and he deliberately launched his spree to expand the popularity of jazz music. Whoever he was, whatever his motives, he hangs over the city of New Orleans to this day.

Was Alice’s mother Luciana actually murdered by the Axeman himself? I don’t know if I’ll end up saying either way. I don’t know if it matters, to be honest. If she was, I would say he was not necessarily tied into the Mafia, but he was a hired killer, and his reign of terror had some greater purpose. It’s just as possible the Axeman was a convenient cover story. It was a hired killer either way, and he had accomplices - the identity of the actual killer is less important here, I think, than the identity of the people who hired and helped him. We’ll learn more in the next chapter.

The last chapter was over ten thousand words, and I briefly considered letting this one be a juggernaut as well, but I hit a natural break point and it seemed better to separate things. I’m working on Chapter 6 now. I’m going on vacation in a couple weeks, and I hope to finish at least that chapter before I leave, as it’s going to mean a hiatus (and I do have another writing project I need to keep working on before the year is out, to boot). I’d really like to get out of the dark place Alice is in now, and give the poor girl the opportunity to find closure and move forward, so maybe I’ll manage to squeeze in Chapter 7 as well. We’ll see.

And now, the outtake, purely as a matter of interest.

Rosalie must have seen something in my expression, despite my best efforts, because she reached out to take my hand. “From what she says, it sounds like you taught her everything she knows. Or close to it.”

“Yeah. Well.” I cracked a small, humorless smile. “I don’t remember any of it. And I can help with theory, but...I can’t demonstrate this stuff for you, and the magic Callie practices isn’t what I’m used to.”

“The spells you talked me through seemed to work just fine the other night.”

“They did. And I’m very glad, believe me.” My smile turned a little more genuine. “I guess I’m not completely out of touch.”

“What does it feel like?” Alice asked softly, glancing between us. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“The actual spellcasting? Or…” Rose shrugged as she trailed off.

“Any of it. All of it.”

“It’s a little different for everyone, I think,” I said slowly. “There are things we have in common, but we filter the experience through our own perceptions of the world. When you cast, it’s like something moves through you. And when you’re just living in the world, then…”

“It’s music, for me,” Rose added. “I can tune it out, but it’s like there’s a radio playing down the hall. The songs and sometimes the volume change. It’s like the world is trying to tell me something, but I can’t quite figure out what. Sometimes I pick up general themes, but that’s about it.”

I nodded. “It’s never that clear. Not without effort, and - well, I certainly don’t remember divination being my strong suit. Callie says I tended to interpret magic visually, and I saw the colors of Rosalie’s spellwork, but mostly I remember these...whispers of sensation. Something that was almost visible, almost audible, almost tangible, but not quite any of those things. I perceived it all through my mind’s eye. It felt like...standing in the ocean on a hot summer day. The water is warm and your toes are curled in the sand, the seaweed fluttering against your legs. The sun warms your skin, and the sky is that perfect shade of blue, but there are clouds scudding across it, big, white, fluffy ones, the kind that come in elaborate shapes, castles and dinosaurs and starfish and whatever else you can imagine. The wind is whistling past, and you can halfway feel, halfway hear the way it whispers of the autumn and winter days to come. You can feel so keenly that you’re a part of everything around you that it’s hard to tell where your soul ends and the world begins. And losing it is...it’s not like going blind, or deaf, or losing a limb. It’s not that simple. But it’s still...it’s loss. It would be like - if you couldn’t see the future anymore, maybe.”

Alice shuddered at that, leaning against me. “God, I can’t even imagine what that would be like. Baby…”

“Yeah. It’s okay.” I turned, planting a kiss against her hairline. “I’m...fine. I don’t need magic to get by. Plenty of people do just fine without it, it’s stupid to…”

“You’re not stupid,” Rosalie interjected. “What you’re talking about - I’ve felt that for all of a day or two. I went my whole life without it, I don’t need it, but - you found a way to give me this gift and now the idea of losing it again is horrifying to me. You were used to perceiving the world in this specific, complicated way, and you lost part of that, and you’re still coming to terms with it. I’m not going to tell you to wallow in that feeling or throw yourself a little pity party, but I understand it now. Your feelings aren’t stupid. You just...can’t let them rule you.”

I shut my eyes, nodding slowly, letting out a long breath. “Still. I have a lot to be grateful for,” I replied, putting my arm around Alice’s shoulders and squeezing gently. “There was a time, long ago, when I didn’t feel the world that way, and I was fine. It’ll come back, or it won’t, and I’ll have friends and family and love and a power of my own either way. That has to be more than enough for anyone.”

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanfic #twilight au #bellice #the tempest trilogy #the tempestverse #brave new world

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dilettantereviews · 5 years

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Due to some personal circumstances, finishing this list took longer than I’m proud of, but I hope it’s worth it.

Isolation by Kali Uchis- This was a hard album to write for, not because of the quality (obviously), but because it’s so all over the place and hard to classify. I first paid attention to her through an ONTD original about pop stars with personas, then I thought of her as an indie pop girl, and her collaborations with rap and Latin artists make me compare her to women in R&B or urban music as well. But she’s just Kali. People always talk about “it took Ms.Nancy 8 years for her debut but it’s iconic!!” but for Kali I definitely feel it. The psychedelic baroque intro alone lets you know that you’re about you go on a journey of an album. Songs like Miami, Tomorrow, and Your Teeth, My Neck (and I guess Just a Stranger) all talk about the uncomfortable intersection between wealth and desire, while songs like Dead to Me (lol) give some brevity and energy to this album. For critics who think she can’t sing, Killer has a great Winehouse-esque performance. The album cover looks like a Prince Protege vanity set fantasy painting.

Joyride by Tinashe- Tinashe had a weird 2017, with Flame flopping, Light Up the Sky dropping, and a bizarre Taco Tuesday outing (why?!?! They said it was a networking event, but for who? The girl has more collaborations than all the different companies Pepsi distributes for), but her 2018 was better. We got a random HQ picture that turned out to be the first cover for a tringle that lead to Joyride. She answered many questions like yes, she did need to use legal options to release Joyride, and no, she didn’t like Flame. She release a great pop album that is a little Frankensteined together but you can still use all the songs. Although things seem murky now, I feel that Tinashe will keep giving us great, unique music. Personal favorites include No Drama, Faded Love, No Contest, and Ooh La La.

Caution by Mariah Carey- I keep seeing people mention that this is their first Mariah album, which is appropriate, because this feels like a new beginning for her. It’s my first Mariah album too, but I’ve seen one Popjustice member say that this is her only album where she mainly sings in a lower register and where the background instrumentals are darker electronics. I’ve heard that Me.. I am Mariah at least tried out new things, but this incorporated everything successfully. I’ve never really listened to Mariah before because I just figured it would be mostly ballads and midtempos, but this album kept things unique. Highlights include GTFO, A No No, Giving Me Life, and Portrait. This album is the sonic equivalent of putting your favorite Bath and Body Works moisturizer on, making a warm drink, and hiding under a weighted blanket, and who doesn’t want that in a year like this?

Take Me to the Disco by Meg Myers- People say that there are too many meaningless buzzwords (true) but I don’t think alt vs indie rock is one of those. Indie is generally minimal and guitar based but alt is left of the middle rock and expansive. Meg went for category 2. Following her great debut album from 2015, she went for a bigger, better, and darker sound this time. It reminds me of Tori (Tear Me to Pieces and Jealous Sea sound very Choirgirl), PJ, Trent, and the Smashing Pumpkins. Take Me to the Disco is a nice ballad that starts out the album, which doesn’t prepare you at all for Numb, the following track. Done and Funeral are also strong. Listen if you’re tired of slackers in music.

Childqueen by Kadhja Bonet- If music indicates mood, I don’t know what Spotify premium subscribing, Allmusic reading, time travelling aliens would know about 2018. Sure, there were some political albums, but I feel like the pace of crappy events was faster than (High quality) political music. Even on a personal level, 2018 wasn’t ridiculously iconic or anything for me, and I was still petty and had grudges to work on. That being said, I have no clue how psychedelic music became big for me this year. We had Moodoid, Melody’s Echo Chamber, The Internet (sort of), and Dita Von Teese. But my favorite is perhaps Kadhja Bonet, whose theatrical sounds are like the score to an old Disney movie. Mother, …, and Second Wind are great. Bonus EP was released this fall.

so sad, so sexy by Lykke Li- I haven’t really listened to Lykke before, so I figured her pop reinvention was a good time to get into her. This album reminds me of Nelly Furtado for indie songwriting but with hooks. Although sometimes the trap parts are a little awkward (use vaporwave instead!), this was a good reinvention. My favorites include Two Nights featuring Amine (he is NOT a rent a rapper!), Jaguars in the Air (you and me we’re psychedelic!), and of course, sex money feelings die. I would love a Jessy Lanza remix album commissioned.

Silk Canvas by Vanjess- Everyone loves whisper registers and high pitched whisper singing in R&B (Diana Ross, Janet, Aaliyah, Ciara, Cassie, Tinashe) but what I really love is a deep voice (or at least one that sounds a little raspy). Vanjess joins Her, Total, and T Boz and even The Weeknd in the deep vocals crowd. Don’t mark these Nigerian princesses as spam, just give them a stream, no bank accounts required. I like that they have a better understanding of making a cohesive album with different genres and still staying in a certain vibe instead of doing the same song 12 times. Even their remix EP gets that. Control Me and Addicted, the big singles from this album, are good symbols for their moody R&B sound but they have more than that. Touch the Floor is more uptempo in the vein of Kaytranada, as are the excellent Through Enough and Another Love. My Love reminds me of Aaliyah’s One in a Million. The One picks up where the 80’s revival trend left off, but improves on the synth funk sound. Even Cool Off the Rain, a 2 minute interlude, is worth listening to.

7 by Beach House- I don’t know what made this album click with me. This is my 4th album for Beach House, so I thought I just wouldn’t get them by now, I listen to dream pop and shoegaze enough where I thought I’d like any vibey music. This album didn’t reinvent the wheel but it has warmth to it, without losing their signature ‘when your arm has pins and needles and you need to wiggle yourself to a healthy blood circulation again’ sound. Favorites include Lemon Glow, Black Car, Dark Spring, and Girl of the Year. I also recommend Wax idols and Pinkshinyultrablast if you’re looking for more shoegaze..

Dita Von Teese by Dita Von Teese- This was always going to be a niche passion project by a burlesque artist, so I don’t think it was ever going to set the charts on fire, but not even the internet cared about this? If you miss Lana’s old Hollywood glamour, you should check out this album. It mixes 60’s psychedelics with electronic music to create a perfect loungy sound. I’m not saying I’m those “I miss 2012 Lana!!” but I stuck with her through her Old Hollywood Jackie Kennedy Born to Die phase, her 60’s Manson Girl Ultraviolence cult phase, her 50’s (?) maps to the stars Honeymoon, and 70’s singer songwriter Lust for Life phase, so I was excited to see what other incarnations we would get. Would we get a full on spaced out culty version of Honeymoon? An 80’s Midwest goth album? A late 90’s vaporwave mixtape? Okay, most of these are just words thrown together that nobody would want, but Dita’s album had the concept and the execution there, all it needed was the audience. The French songs have a certain sadness in them. I like Bird of Prey and Dangerous Guy as well, but the whole album is well produced and beautiful sounding, so you should listen to it if you just want some easy listening that’s riskier than most of pop and alternative’s current artists.

Black Panther- Yes, this should count as an album. I’ve seen people treat The Hunger Games soundtracks (yes, those movies didn’t spontaneously appear on TNT one day) as real albums and stan Lorde’s vision for it. I’ve seen people stan the soundtrack for A Star is Born, like it’s a real Lady Gaga album, but Black Panther is where y’all draw the line? Okay. Aside from the breakout single, you get a good vocal performance from SZA, a top tier Jorja Smith song, the best flute performance of 2018, and the downtemp Seasons. That a random soundtrack can have that much cohesion is good for Kendrick Lamar but bad for other artists.

#best of #best of 2018 #kali uchis #tinashe #mariah carey #meg myers #kadhja bonet #lykke li #vanjess #dita von teese #black panther

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