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mrprettywhenhecries · 9 months

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i don't think you notice (what you did to me) [b.h]

one. | the new arrival

Billy Hargrove ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

⇾ w.c. 2.6k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, suggestive themes, not much this chapter

⇾ a/n: I know I’m a little late to the Billy train, but better late than never, amIright? And thank goodness because this fixation has broken my writer’s block. I have some grand plans for this fic, spanning the events of seasons 2 and 3 and I’m super excited about it. Also decided to just be super self indulgent and keep this fic oc x canon instead of reader insert because it’s been too damn long since I just had fun. Without further ado, please enjoy! 🩷

[ masterlist ] [ win lewis bio ]

It had only been three months since Win Lewis came to Hawkins–a wholesome rural town in the heartland of Indiana–only three months since her father uprooted her entire life for a new job, a new start. It was bad enough that their ‘new start’ had to take place at the beginning of her senior year, but it was practically unforgivable that it had to take place in the middle of nowhere.

So far, nothing remotely interesting had happened and it was beginning to drive Win insane. Little did she know, that was all about to change with the arrival of one Billy Hargrove.

7:00 AM – It was the innocuous click of Win’s clock radio that woke her. Ever since she’d moved to Hawkins, she’d been sleeping worth shit. It was too quiet–the familiar sounds of the city that used to lull her to sleep were long gone, now replaced with nothing but the lonely chirping of insects and the wind. She thought waking up to the radio would make the process easier, but she usually ended up hitting snooze before the music even played.

Groaning, she rolled back over, pressing her face into her pillow. She thought after nearly three months she’d be used to Hawkins, but it was starting to seem like it would never feel like home.

A faint sound from the kitchen caught her ear and she lifted her face. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air–the strong brew her father liked after a long shift at the lab, even if he often fell asleep in his chair after drinking only one cup.

At least some things never changed.

He’d actually made it home before she had to leave. Most days she never even saw him, leaving for school before he returned home and going to bed before he woke.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before her alarm went off a second time, Win pushed herself up to get dressed, turning her clock off as she went. By the time she applied some makeup and fixed her hair, she’d have enough time to toast some Eggos and down a glass of OJ before her ride arrived.

When she walked into the kitchen, she found her dad leaning heavily against the counter, coffee cup forgotten in one hand, half raised to his lips as he stared blankly off into space.

“Dad.”

At the sound of her voice, he roused, nearly splashing the scalding liquid over his wrist in alarm.

“Shit, sorry,” he breathed, hastily setting the cup back down and running his hands through his dark hair. “I was just… thinking,” he mumbled, shaking his head wearily.

“They’re working you too much,” Win said, crossing the kitchen to the fridge, pulling out the carton of orange juice before opening the freezer for her waffles.

“There’s a lot going on, you wouldn’t understand sweetheart.”

“You always say that,” Win muttered, placing two frozen waffles in the toaster and pressing down the lever with more force than necessary. “Why can’t you just go back to your old job?” she asked, pouring herself a glass of juice. “If you’re going to be working the same lame hours, can’t it at least be somewhere better than here?”

“You know I can’t do that,” David sighed. “We’ve talked about this, Win. You’re just going to have to make the best of it here.”

Win’s waffles popped up.

“You’ll make new friends, find fun things to do,” he insisted. “What about those girls that drive you to school?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the street while Win quickly downed her breakfast.

She snorted. “Holly’s nice, and Tina’s alright, but Vicki Carmichael and Carol Perkins are her friends,” she said, as if the distinction were important.

David sighed, the long deep tired sigh Win came to expect from him. “Just… just keep your head up. Things’ll get better,” he finished wearily. It was his mantra–the only thing he could think of to say in the face of adversity.

Win rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue, knowing it was fruitless anyway.

“It would be nice if I had my own car to drive,” she ventured, not for the first time.

“You’re not driving the Chevelle,” her father said, knowing exactly what she was going to ask.

“But–”

“No buts,” he said, cutting her off. “Do you know how much that car cost? Besides, that’s not a car you drive every day. It’s special.”

“That’s bullshit,” Win grumbled, the sound of tires on gravel pricking her ears.

“We’ll get you your own car once I get some money saved up,” David said, trying to placate her.

“Yeah, a piece of shit,” Win muttered under her breath as she slung her backpack over her shoulder.

If her father heard her, he made no sign of it. “Plus, look on the bright side, at least you don’t have to take the bus.”

Just then, Tina honked her horn impatiently, and Win scowled. “Yeah, I’m super lucky,” she mumbled, pulling open the front door.

“Try to have a good day,” her father sighed, following her to the door. “Love you!” he called after and Win raised her hand in acknowledgement as she made her way to the back passenger door, yanking it open.

“What took you so long?” Tina asked as soon as she sat down, reaching for the seat belt.

“Arguing with my dad about the car again,” Win replied, leaning back in her seat to look out the window as Tina pulled back onto the street and drove off. The trees that slid past were already in full autumn bloom, the first dry leaves just starting to fall.

“Ugh, he’s so lame. It’s not like you’re gunna wreck it,” Tina scoffed in solidarity.

“Is he one of those guys that treats his car like his baby?” Carol asked with a derisive snort.

“Sort of, but not quite that extreme,” Win explained. “He always says it's for special occasions, but like, what if I want every day t’be special?” she laughed.

“Speaking of special,” Vicki segued, already tired of the topic, “What is everyone wearing to Tina’s Halloween party this weekend?” she asked, flipping down the visor to check her lip gloss in the mirror.

“I’m dressing as Madonna from the ‘Like a Virgin’ music video,” Tina exclaimed excitedly.

“I’m going as Alex Owens from Flashdance,” Carol added with a grin.

“How about you, Win? Do you have a costume planned yet?” Tina asked and the others turned expectantly, waiting for her answer.

“I was thinking of going as the Road Warrior,” Win answered, tearing her eyes from the Indiana scenery to look at them.

“What?” Vicki asked, her face scrunching up.

“You know, Mad Max?” Win added. “But that’s a dude,” Carol pointed out, giving Win a strange look.

“So?” Win asked, meeting her stare head on. “I look good in leather.”

“Ooh, all leather. Sounds bitchin’,” Tina laughed, pulling into the school parking lot.

As Win stepped out of the car, the roar of an engine filled the air and a dark blue Camaro with California plates whipped into the stone lot, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. Parking a few spots over, the car screeched to a halt, its engine still revving loudly, competing with the heavy metal music blasting from its speakers.

Suddenly the engine cut out and the driver’s door swung open. A booted foot hit the ground, and moments later Win got her first glimpse of the occupant. Clad all in denim, save for his tight white undershirt, one of the most gorgeous guys she’d ever seen straightened, shaking out his long golden curls as he fixed the collar of his jean jacket and surveyed the parking lot, an unimpressed look on his face.

“Who is that?” Vicki exclaimed, gaping at him shamelessly.

The other girls stared just as enthralled, their gazes following him as he passed.

“I have no idea, but would you check out that ass?” Tina gasped, her mouth falling open as she ogled him, twisting a lock of dark hair between her fingers. “Just look at it go!” she giggled, biting her lip.

Win rolled her eyes at their reaction, but found herself looking nonetheless. His snug Levi’s left little to the imagination, hugging his slim hips just right, making looking at anything other than his ass nearly impossible.

“He has to be new,” Vicki exclaimed, hurrying to shut the car door behind her and follow after. “I would have definitely remembered that face.”

"Or that ass!" Carol laughed.

“C’mon, let’s go find out who he is,” Tina said, grabbing Win’s arm and hauling her toward the door.

—

It didn’t take long for the new kid’s name to be on everyone’s lips, his appearance the most interesting thing since Win’s own arrival.

“Did you hear? Billy Hargrove’s from California!” Holly exclaimed as Win set her lunch tray down next to hers.

“Yeah, I saw the plates on his car.”

“Do you think he knows how to surf? He’s so bodacious!” she squealed.

“He certainly is,” Win agreed dryly, bemused by her friend’s reaction.

“He doesn’t hold a candle to Steve though!” Holly quickly amended, catching sight of Steve Harrington as he walked past with his underclassman girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler.

“No way. Billy’s way hotter than Harrington,” Tina argued, joining them at the table, followed by Vicki.

“I’m gunna make a move and ask him for a ride home,” Vicki said, wearing a smug grin.

“You do that,” Win muttered as she opened her milk carton.

Wanting to sneak a cigarette before afternoon class, she finished her lunch quickly, slipping away while the others were preoccupied, still discussing boys.

Pulling her half empty pack from her jacket pocket, she plucked one of the slim rolls free and placed it between her lips as she made her way to the bleachers by the practice field. A group of guys were lounging near the top and Win spotted none other than Billy Hargrove’s windswept mullet as she made her way to her secret hiding spot.

Ducking into the shade under the metal bleachers, she fished her lighter free and lit up, inhaling deeply. Blowing the smoke through her nostrils, she felt the instant calming effect of the nicotine roll over her and she leaned back against the support beam, closing her eyes.

It wasn’t long before the boys’ conversation above pricked her attention, and Win tilted her head to listen in.

“What’s it like there?”

“No man, what’re the babes like there?”

Billy let out a scoff. “They’re way hotter than any of the cows you have around here.”

Several guys laughed, clapping Billy on the shoulder while a few others–the ones with girlfriends, no doubt–muttered under their breaths, not wanting to seem lame in front of the new cool kid.

“You saying you haven’t seen any chick you like yet?” Tommy Hagan asked, and below, Win rolled her eyes, flicking a line of ash from her cigarette.

Wait til he hears his girlfriend has a hard on for his new hero, she thought smugly.

“None that I’ve seen. I’m starting to think high school girls might be beneath me anyway,” Hargrove answered and Win had to fight back a derisive snort.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, crushing her cigarette butt underfoot as the bell rang.

The rest of the afternoon passed unremarkably and Win was rather relieved she didn’t share any classes with Billy. She didn’t think she could stomach any more girls fawning over him, especially after what she’d overheard at lunch. Just because he was attractive didn’t mean he was a catch.

“Win!” Tina called as the final bell rang and everyone funneled out into the hall. “Help me pass out the party invites?” she asked, pulling a stack of orange flyers from her backpack as Win waited for her.

“Yeah alright,” Win agreed, taking half the stack.

“Great, you’re the best! Meet me by the south entrance once you’ve handed them all out.”

Sighing, Win positioned herself by the bottom of the staircase, handing a flyer to every student that passed.

“Halloween night, come get ‘sheet-faced’ at Tina’s!” she exclaimed, reading off the words on the page. Once she’d been wiped out, she went in search of her friend, finding her just finishing up as well.

“Do you think Billy’ll come?” she asked as they walked to the parking lot together.

Win huffed an annoyed breath. “That jerk’s so full of himself,” she muttered, noticing his blue Camaro was still parked ahead.

Tina’s brows rose, wondering what Win could possibly have against him already. “That’s fine, if you’re not interested, all the better for the rest of us,” she laughed, flashing Billy her best smile as they approached.

True to her word, Vicki was already at his side as he leaned against his car, chewing on a toothpick, as if waiting for something.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Billy mused as he smirked, looking Win up and down appraisingly, completely ignoring Vicki.

Before Win could sling a snappy comeback Tina answered for her, eager to please. “This is Win, and I’m Tina,” she added, batting her eyelashes at him.

Billy rolled the toothpick to the corner of his mouth, his tongue lazily swiping across his bottom lip. “You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked, still looking only at Win, though it was less of a question and more an observation. “You can tell that just by looking at me, can you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

The low chuckle he let out in response made her stomach somersault, but she kept her face straight, not giving anything away; reacting would only fuel his ego.

“Oh, I can tell a lot by just looking at you.” Billy’s words held a cocky insinuation and though Win couldn’t deny how fucking attractive he was, there was nothing she wanted more than to knock him down a few pegs.

“I thought High School girls were beneath you,” she said, wearing a calculated frown, her brows pinching in faux confusion as she repeated what she’d overheard back at him. At her words Tina and Vicki gaped at her as if she’d grown another head.

Billy, however, merely huffed in amusement. “That’s til I met you,” he said, leaning in closer, his blue eyes flashing at the unspoken challenge. “I’d definitely like you beneath me,” he said, tilting his head as his gaze flicked up to hers, a coy smirk playing at his lips.

Win’s own lips twitched as she stared back, a wicked grin suddenly gracing her features. “Too bad I’m not really into High School boys,” she said with a shrug before leaning in as well. “Plus, I prefer being on top.”

Without another word, she slipped past him, the look on his face priceless, while Tina shared an incredulous look with Vicki before giving a start and hurrying after her, directing a wistful look back over her shoulder as she trailed behind.

“Your sister coming, or what?” Vicki huffed, jealous of the almost predatory way Billy’s gaze followed Win.

Annoyed at the interruption, he tore his eyes away, a scowl marring his features. “She’ll be here, she knows better than to make me wait.” He pulled the toothpick from his lips, turning his head and spitting through his teeth. “And don’t call her that–” he snapped, pointing at Vicki over the top of his car.

“What?” Vicki asked, frowning at his sudden shift in mood.

“Sister,” he exclaimed. “She’s not my sister.”

“What the hell was that?” Tina cried, rounding on Win as they reached her car.

“What was what?” Win asked innocently, waiting for her friend to unlock the doors.

“I thought you weren’t interested!”

Win fell silent, unsure how to answer. As she climbed into her seat, she looked back toward Billy’s blue Camaro, trying to ignore the way he’d made her insides flutter. Maybe he was a smug bastard, but Win couldn’t deny there was something dangerous and exciting about him, not to mention the fact he was sex on legs.

“I’m not,” she insisted, though it was clear she wasn’t fooling anyone.

Tina rolled her eyes as she put the car in gear.

“Yeah, sure.”

⇾ taglist: @super-unpredictable98 @wherethewitchersare @stevesjester @santacarlahorrorshow @elliethesuperfruitlover

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x oc #otp: lewgrove #oc: win lewis #fic: i don't think you notice #joz.fic

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efingcod · 1 month

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Oh you know I gotta come ask about Frank. 2, 4, and 12.

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

That he really cares about the people around him, even if he tries to hide it. I love that canon made him a total badass on the surface, but hints at (and eventually tells us overtly) that he does have a heart.

From the subtle moments that I’ve mentioned before such as him crying over that kid in Black Ops 1. How Bowman’s brutal death affects him. Sacrificing himself to save Mason.

In Cold War how he takes the time to get to know Bell. His camaraderie with Mason. But also the occasional touches that keep his friend grounded.

And in Black Ops 2 being locked in that storage container watching his men die. The way it breaks him. But even when he’s suffering himself with his own life changing injuries he manages to muster up the strength to take in and be there for David who’s just lost everything.

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

I feel protective of him he’s been through enough so my impulse is to put him in a nice slide-of-life something or other where he can relax. But I know him. I know Frank. He’ll get bored. 😂

I can’t think of anything specific that I’d like to see him in but I think he’d have fun in a Western. Either that or some kind of supernatural something (obviously right? 😂)

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Oh boy what headcanons don’t I have for him? All right so in the last chapter of JWIN I had him make some mean sandwiches for him and Mila. I don’t think Frank can cook generally. It’s not his interest and really when would he have had time to perfect the skill.

But I do think that he makes killer pancakes-pancake mix being cheap as hell and pancakes being super filling- he likely got really good at them. good news for anyone who spends the night with him amiright 😉

#you’ve got mail 💌#ask game #Frank woods #black ops #call of duty #CoD black ops #bocw #thank you for the ask Jen!

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thelaundrybitch · 1 year

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Little Blue Hearts Update - Chapter 35

Well hellooooo Turtle Doves 😍

I hope everyone had a Happy Holiday Season!

This next chapter brings you a new POV...

Whaaaaaaattt....

18+ content - for mature audiences only!

Reblogs only, please!

Little Blue Hearts cover art by the lovely @leosgirl82

Diversions

~Michelle~

Operation Diversion starts almost immediately as we enter the kitchen.

Well…

Almost.

Liv-eonardo are having a moment.

And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t cute as hell.

It actually starts as I’m sitting in the chair that Raphael has set up for me.

He's such a gentleman.

Sweet… Kind… Caring…

BIG… Strong

Good God, the things I would do to him…

Oh shit, where’s my brain…

Right there in the same boat with poor lovesick Liv.

Thirst First… Amiright?

"Proposal Cookies!" Ashley practically yells, eyes bulging out of her face as she fails to get Liv’s brain back online and off of Planet Leo.

By the 'pining-idiots-in-love' looks on their faces, I'm guessing nothing transpired between them last night when we left them with some alone time. Most of us had a meeting last night discussing our concerns about Liv's mental health after being out cold for nearly three months. We all decided it was best if she could get back to doing some of her favorite hobbies. One of those hobbies being baking.

The only ones not in attendance were Liv and Leo. Mike had corralled the pair of them to the movie room after Ashley mentioned we all needed to get going and that it had already been a long night.

I love how smooth she slips in a code and he just flies with it.

They really are perfect for each other.

I watch as Liv lands back on Earth with the rest of us, looking panicked as Leo whispers to her.

"Proposal Cookies?" I inquire, trying to help my girls out.

Liv's cheeks pinken but she smiles, glancing at me quickly with a grateful smile. "Yeah… I get teased by this one," she says, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at Ashley, "because every time I make them for a company party or community event, people always tell me they'd marry me on the spot or they ask for my hand in marriage after their first bite," she explains, looking down in embarrassment.

Leo's face goes from smitten kitten to unimpressed homicidal maniac.

I hear Splinter huff out a silent snicker at the sight of his eldest son's extreme dismay, before he pipes in.

"These sound like quite the cookies," He says, incredible intrigue dripping from each syllable while he tries to hide the devilish smile spreading across his face.

"Liv! You should totally make some for everyone!" Ashley says, a little too excited, glancing from Splinter to me, and then quirking a quick eyebrow at Mike.

"I can help if you'd like!" Mike says, smiling nervously as he checks to see if Leo is on the same page.

And, of course, Leo is right there, already understanding what we're doing.

"What do you think?" Leo asks Liv, giving her that signature Prince Charming smile of his. "I know I'd love to try these cookies."

"Really? You wouldn't mind if I used your kitchen?" Liv spins around asking Mike, eyes full of life at the thought of engaging in one of her beloved hobbies.

"I would be insulted if you didn't want to make these cookies in my kitchen," Mike tells her. The smile on his face is genuine and you can see tears of joy welling in Liv’s eyes.

Hallelujah

This poor girl needs a boost of inner happiness and self-love after all the trauma she's been through.

I glance at Splinter, who looks pleased as pie.

"I, too, look forward to these cookies," he says, pausing for a moment. "But perhaps we can rename them," he winks right before sipping his tea.

So smooth. I can’t help but smirk at the elderly Rat.

The kitchen goes back to its previous hustle and bustle as everyone retrieves a giant cinnamon roll from Mike, who is plating them at the island.

As I go to get up, Raph puts his hand on my back and leans in towards my ear, whispering, “Stay and relax. I’ll get you some breakfast.”

Oh, Holy Night.

The weight of his hand on my back…

His breath down my neck…

My brain is sinking fast.

Shake it off, Michelle. Shake it off.

I take a deep breath and feel a kick under the table.

Don is staring at me with an evil twinkle in his eye.

“Hey, Raph,” he calls to his brother, while still staring me down.

Oh, you mother…

I grit my teeth and shake my head at him in warning.

But this only provokes him.

Raph comes back to the table with plates for me, Splinter, and himself. The look of curiosity on his face is so adorable it’s taking everything I have not to kiss the shit out of him.

“Do you mind walking the ladies to work? I had something come up that I really need to look into…” Don begins.

Before I can open my mouth to tell him that we’ll be fine walking together, Ashley pipes in.

“Oh actually that would be perfect! I got a call from the nurse’s station about twenty minutes ago! Nancy needed to swap shifts. So, I’m working this afternoon instead of this morning,” Ashley confesses, giving me the same mischievous smile.

Liv turns her head and gives me a hopeful smile.

How can you love and hate people at the same time?

“I’d be honored, if you’d let me walk you to work,” Raph says with a tenderness in his voice that makes my heart do backflips.

I feel the heat sweeping over my face as I swallow hard and turn to look at him.

Fakhdnflajjerfl

Alsdkgfjanm

Lksjdfohandk

I’m gonna melt to the damn folding chair if he keeps looking at me like that.

“If you’re uncomfortable…” he says, hurt flashing through his eyes as I feel Don kick me again.

“NO!” I panic. “I want you!” I blurt out, making Don snicker. “To!” I try to correct my embarrassing blunder but realize I sound like a complete lunatic.

Raph raises an eyebrow ridge, a smirk plays at the corner of his sexy lips.

“Oh, good!” Splinter exclaims. “I am so happy that everyone’s feelings are out in the open now!”

“Wait, what?” I ask, looking from an exuberant Splinter to a now mortified Raphael.

“You want him, too… I’m assuming he has already confessed his feelings for you?” Splinter asks in obvious feigned innocence.

I’m pretty sure I hear the record scratch to a stop, as the entire kitchen goes deadly silent.

Again.

Looking at the beautiful man beside me, I see the dread on his face as he stares blankly at his father.

“No?” asks Splinter. “Well, I guess you two have something to discuss on the way to the hospital,” he chuckles, standing from his spot. “Donatello, I would like to accompany you to the lab. I, too, am curious about your findings.”

Don puts both half-eaten cinnamon rolls on one plate. He goes to grab what's remaining of their breakfasts, but Liv is already up and grabbing Splinter’s arm to assist him as Leo is grabbing the plate and some napkins, leaving Don with the hot beverages.

“You think we can hang it before I leave for work?” I hear Ashley ask Mike as they follow the others out of the kitchen.

Those rat bastards. They pulled a fast one on us.

And here I am, thinking we were trying to con Liv into making cookies to brighten her spirits!

“Is it true?” Raphael’s voice is laced with apprehension.

I can’t look at him.

Swallowing nervously, I nod.

“Good,” he breathes out, gently turning my face toward his and pressing his lips to mine.

Little Blue Hearts Master list HERE

@leosgirl82 @turtle-babe83 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @nittleboo @sharpwindow @8pmblackcoffee @drowninghell @mysticboombox @raphsweapondealer @raphslovemuffin80 @chicchanmooshy @roxosupreme @xanadu-702 @pheradream15 @mistyroselove @ashleighclark98 @jurikyu-blog @sewerninno @tmntspidergirl @raphielover @zombiesnips-blog @meowph-132 @superneko-chan @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @soryuwifeyxx @clockworkmorningglory @happymoonangel

*If you aren’t on this list, please let me know if you want me to tag you in my other work or if you prefer me to not tag you 😘

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rebelcharmings · 6 months

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also Heyy everyone i still like eah, starkid just took over my life for a second (it still has). anyways in other news i’m finally ready to upload the second chapter of my eah hogwarts au i’m just waiting for the right time bc timezones amiright

#mari rambles #witches and queens #eah hogwarts au

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returntosaturn271995 · 4 months

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Monday, January 8th, 2024: Eunice in finance is ruining my life

Nah, not really. But she is making it more difficult. Also, a girl in my sorority back in the day was named Eunice and became an accountant and posts roughly 3,000 photos of herself a day. All of which is to say, in the most cliche, late 20s, and utterly banal tone possible: "Mondays, amiright?".

Anyhoo it's actually been a good one. I spent the morning at the new breakfast nook with a steaming cup of tea and my laptop out, buttery light filling the room. Blue loves the new table, particularly because it gives her access to watch birds through the trees with glassy eyes. She has thrown herself up against the glass more than once. The cuteness of which is really making it hard to care about getting influencers to properly espouse the benefits of Kellogg's zero sugar. Yes, that's real. I'm more of a General Mills girl myself but shhh don't tell anyone.

At around 11:00 I threw on some joggers, nikes, and a sports bra and bounced my way through a 25-minute beach run. My breathing came easy, I meditated at the top of the cliff, pet a French bulldog, and then grabbed $60 worth of Trader Joe's on the way back.

Connor invited me to watch the Michigan game (whatever, sports) with some of his friends at Backyard for happy hour. This will be a game changer because someone's friends say a lot about them, namely who I'll be forced to hang out with if things work out.

Real-world news: On Tuesday, the State Department issued a sharp rebuke of two Israeli government officials—one of whom was Israeli National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir—who advocated for the resettlement of Palestinians outside of Gaza. The statement read that the United States has been “clear, consistent, and unequivocal that Gaza is Palestinian land and will remain Palestinian land.” To underscore the tension rising between the allies, Ben-Gvir responded on social media: “With all due respect, we are not another star in the American flag.”

Yikes. But also, kind of a baller statement. I've always thought Israel had the moral high ground and the right to defend itself, but the humanitarian situation and lack of ceasefire is an ugly chapter in a history book with a lot of ugly chapters. Frankly, I don't know enough and I kind of wish other people would admit that too.

Current outfit: Long sleeve, belted, denim mini-dress, black booties, hair long and down.

Current Book: Wow, No Thank You but Samantha Irby and forcing myself to get back into Sapiens. It's interesting reading, just DENSE.

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pebblysand · 2 years

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[NOVEMBER '21] - THE LIFE/WRITING UPDATE NO ONE ASKED FOR (AND SOME QUICK LINKS)

oh lads. i don’t know about you but i have no idea where october went. i mean, i wrote every fucking day under the sun, then i went on holiday, then i edited 13,000 words in 27 hours almost straight, bar a 3 hour nap in between, then my mum came to stay with me, and now here we are, lol. plus the clocks have gone back gone forward i never know, and now it’s just dark, all the time, oh happy days. i think i said this in my old fic "children" once, but november is universally the shittiest month of the year, amiright?

Anyway, before diving into more life/writing updates, here are some quick links to different blog pages you might not see on mobile :

to read my fics

to read my original work

fic recs

to read my tumblr rants about stuff

[NOTE: i am currently not accepting prompts but maybe soon-ish?]

Castles (chap 10) ETA: december?

links extended a/n-s: chapter v ; chapter vi & vii ; chapter viii ; chapter ix

[more life/writing updates under the cut]

what i’m reading:

i went on holidays this month and so as planes have always been (and probably will always be the one place i read) we are back in business! i finished two books this month, and they were really good reads!

books:

i finished beautiful world, where are you? by sally rooney. as i’ve said before, i’ve been a sally rooney stan for a few years now, and i genuinely enjoyed this book, although it definitely was not my favourite. i think my issue with this book was two-fold: first, i didn’t love the letters exchanged between the two main protagonists - i felt they were a bit of a waste of space and did not really tell the reader anything new about the characters, if i’m honest and second, i felt a bit frustrated by the four-main-characters set-up, rather than two, like in normal people. i felt the same with conversations with friends so this is not news but i feel like if there’s one thing sally does, it’s character building, and i just wish she would focus on one or two people, rather than try and get confused with doing four. i also thought that strangely enough, she did a better job at having the boys be fascinating, well-rounded, flawed individuals, rather than the girls. both simon and felix felt like very interesting, complicated characters i really wanted to spend time with, and i desperately wanted this story told from their pov, rather than eileen and alice’s. i wonder if this is the only the effect of the restricted pov (obviously, the other characters whose heads you’re not in always feel more like a mystery) but i think it was something deeper than that. i felt that eileen was a bit too perfect for my taste and alice just felt like sally self-bashing. a lot of people have said that alice is a self-insert (insanely famous author of two books about “people,” known for the way she writes about sex… um, yeah, sure, why not?) but i would argue that it only is in the way that alice feels like rooney being like: here is everything i hate about myself in a single character who, by the way, has no redeeming qualities. i fucking hated alice, and i think you’re meant to hate her, and i was like, ‘honestly, sally, darling, no one is that bad.’ all of this being said, though, obviously, sally is a genius. her writing is stellar, her storytelling skills are insane and i will read her grocery list if she gives it to me. there’s that scene at the party with simon and eileen where she conveys all of the feelings in the world with almost no emotion whatsoever in text, that scene legit brought me to tears and i was like: okay, fair play, sure look, i’ll never write again, thanks very much. lastly, (and i’d be curious if this is a shared sentiment by non-irish people, @hiinnys, maybe, i’m curious what you thought) but i felt that this novel was a lot more “irish” than the previous ones. the omnipresence of the dublin rental crisis, the locations, i even noticed more irish phrases like the “do be” verb tense, which i don’t recall being used in her previous work. this might be in my head (or maybe i’m just noticing this now because i’ve been here longer) but this book really felt irish and homey to me. there was a very interesting article in gawker (ugh, i know) on this topic entitled “sally rooney is irish” and how she writes about ireland but without making it into this cliche-ed postcard set up we’re so used to. i thought it was super interesting and would highly recommend.

i also finished a book i’d downloaded on kindle ages ago but only got to now: watch her fall by erin kelly. sure look, ya girl loves a good thriller sometimes and erin kelly is such a master at telling a story from multiple povs… i’m honestly jealous. i really enjoyed this, the pacing and writing was great, and i loved the classical dancing setting. my only complaint is that the end twist, i felt, didn’t wrap around everything as well as it did in he said/she said, so i would definitely recommend reading that one first, because it’s really her masterpiece. this was definitely fab and entertaining. i was up trying to finish it until 2am the night i got back from romania, so this was 100% a banger.

fics:

i’m still reading: knowing where to look by ala_baguette and still loving it. haven’t read the latest chapter that came out last night yet, though, so please don’t spoil haha.

i’ve sort of low key been reading love in a time of a zombie apocalypse off a tiktok recommendation. i don’t know, sometimes i like to switch my brain off, okay? also, i’ve always sort of loved zombie/dystopian aus, they make me lol. it’s not the best fic i’ve ever read and i don’t know how i feel about dramione but sure look, it’s fine.

what i’m watching:

i haven’t finished downton abbey but i have gotten recently obsessed with two other shows lately. the first is maid. i’ve spoken about it on tumblr a bit but boy, if domestic violence and poverty are topics that you feel drawn to, do give it a watch. it’s beautiful, the acting is stellar, it does such as good job of showing the cycle of toxic relationships, the legal difficulties when, as she puts it “you don’t have bruises” and is so, so well written, i absolutely loved it. obviously, it is a tough watch, though.

i’ve also been watching a lot of goliath lately. i’m on season 3, which i feel is slightly weaker than the first two, but i’m honestly loving it so far. it’s got a lot of michael connolly vibes, i feel, especially in the way that it shows los angeles, and is actually very funny. the characters are great, the acting is absolutely stellar (that woman who plays the paralegal is chef’s kiss) and i’m definitely enjoying this. would highly recommend if you’re looking for a non-traditional legal show.

what i’m writing:

okay, this deserves capslocks. CASTLES IS OUT. I REPEAT. CASTLES IS OUT. thank the lord.

jokes aside, this took ages to get out, and i’m so, so glad it now is. i don’t know why but i was convinced this chapter was going to piss off a lot of people but actually, the response was overwhelmingly positive so thank you so much. i am so thankful and humbled by the fact that so many people are reading this story, it’s an actual dream and honestly, getting all your comments in throughout the last couple of days, it’s just been the absolute best feeling. i’ve tried to answer most of yous by now but i am running a bit of a backlog so please hand in there. but thank you, thank you, thank youuuu.

in terms of what happens next, i’ve said it on a couple of discords but i’m finally doing nanowrimo for the first time in my life (yaaaay!) it’s genuinely the first year, since finding out about the event some ten years ago, that i actually both have time and am in the “right” headspace to do this. so i’m trying it out by attempting to write the next 50,000 words of castles. i’m anticipating another 70k so it won’t be really “finishing” castles, but i’m hoping to make a pretty big dent in whatever’s left. this means that while i don’t think i’ll post an update before december, i’ll definitely be working. of course, if you want to send in asks or thoughts or do the word ask game again, anytime, be my guest. i’m actually sort of excited for this. i think it’s going to be tough, but loads of fun.

what i’m doing:

i went to romania and it was fucking awesome to finally go on a trip after eighteen months of pandemic shite. this being said, i am absolutely exhausted and cannot wait for a bit of dublin-based, quiet time by myself. i’m just gonna paint my nails tonight, order some indian food and then sleep lol. whatevs, i’ll start nano tomorrow.

lots of love,

pebblysand.

#november 2021 #life update

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elysianslove · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can you do roommates au for kuroo, oikawa, iwachan and atsumu?

hi!! thank you for requesting i hope you like these!!

kuroo tetsurō

kuroo as a roommate is both the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to you

for one, you always have a tutor in case you need help

and he’s really good at keeping you in check

will always make sure u eat, sleep well, manage your time

stuff like that

but

BUT

he’s so messy pls

like every room might as well be kuroo’s room because his stuff is always everywhere

this is only a good thing when his shirt/hoodies end up in your domain

bc this guy’s like 6’1? 6’2? doesn’t matter who you are his clothes are comfy whether they fit right or dwarf you

does not know how to clean

at all

like how difficult can cleaning be??? idk ask kuroo

he’s really good at picking up new habits though so he’s your designated cook

cleaning is on you, cooking is on him

i hope that’s okay w u bc otherwise u will not survive 😃

he’s so big on cuddling

he’ll ask you to sleep in the same bed constant nights

at first it’s so ??? weird???

like why would u???

but then u find that it’s actually kinda nice

it’s a great way to destress bc as soon as ur cuddling ur mind just turns off

@ the tutor thing

he’s a really good teacher

but his notes?

get ur own <3

literally no one but kuroo can understand them so good luck g

anyways overall he’s a great roommate good job on scoring this hunk of a man 😻

oikawa tōru

first few months, he completely avoids you

weird i know i know

but oikawa is not someone that just opens up to anyone yk? he’s very selective. it takes a while for him to trust you

but you live in the same house so it’s inevitable

it’s not that he avoided you per se but he kept your interactions to a minimum

which had been fine by you! he was respectful of your privacy, did his part to maintain the house while you did yours, etc

it’s when he starts getting comfortable that’s the problem

i think it would happen spontaneously and you two would stay up s o late together out of nowhere and suddenly you’d know each other’s deepest darkest secrets

believes in those roommate bonding activities

friday nights are reserved for the two of you, and that’s a set rule. only extreme cases have priority over it

can’t cook and can’t clean

but he’s so good at lifting up his legs while you vacuum <3

literally if you leave for the weekend you come back to an unrecognizable home

the amount of shit he’s broken bc of volleyball like literally go play anywhere else

overall he’s a great roommate because he’s both respectful of your boundaries and genuinely really fun to have around

(so fucking annoying though sometimes you just wanna suffocate him in his sleep hehe)

iwaizumi hajime

best roommate hands down he’s the perfect candidate oh my god

he will cook

and he will clean

he’ll be respectful

he’ll help you with your work

only issue is he’s a bit standoffish you’ll think he hates you for the longest time

until you just straight up ask him “do you hate me?”

and he’ll be genuinely so shocked like “no! what? why would i live with you if i hated you? what?”

god he’s so precious

i see iwa as someone that likes routine

so it’d be great if you can adapt to that/adapt to his routine specifically

you two split the work evenly so well

like if he takes care of breakfast (cooks or it buys it), dinner is on you

spring cleaning is actually so fun with hajime because he actually puts in as much effort as you

but also

you’re blasting some music on the speakers and using the broom as a mic that he can’t help but let loose tbh

he learns your quips so well overtime it’s amazing he just

he just knows you so well is he psychic or some shit???

will never force you to like do any bonding activities but i see you two just playing a shit ton of boardgames together, things like monopoly

loser gets extra chores hehe

god i want roommate iwa in my life so bad

a really good roommate because of the fact that he’s super mature and a really thoughtful person in general

miya atsumu

worst one

he’s the WORST

like oikawa can’t cook or clean, but he has some redeeming qualities. atsumu?? none !

im kidding y’all he’s the cutest i would die to have him as my roommate

he’s so

energetic?

your first night as roommates he just waltzes into your room and drags you out to the living room where the tv is already set up, two large pizzas and so many wedges have been ordered, and drinks <3

spends the entire time getting to know you

he learns to live with you really easily tbh like he adapts so quick

he’s so used to sharing bc he’s a twin, so nothing ever properly bothers him

he can’t cook, but he does watch you and tries to learn from you

he’ll do very basic things like you can leave breakfast safely to him

after minimum 2 months of practice

he likes to be very involved and likes to involve you just as much

he’s not nosy he’s just curious leave him be 🥺

there is always one day a month where it’s just the two of you going out

to like a carnival

amusement park

ice skating

all that stuff. it’s necessary

i need to clarify that 3 am drives to get mcdonalds take out is a very regular thing with atsumu

driving up a hill and sitting on the hood of your car while you get some nuggets and stare at the city skyline beneath you

immaculate vibes

a really fun roommate tbh no regrets with this one you will never feel like shit and even if you do

what are the 3 am drives for amiright 😻

end note; i hope that was good, and that the requester and everyone else enjoyed that!! like always, requests are open <333

thank you to everyone that’s voted about the smau thing! i’ll wait a little while longer before deciding who won, and hopefully, i’ll have the first few chapters up soon!! mwah <3

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo headcanons #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa headcanons #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi headcanons #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu headcanons #miya atsumu headcanons

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callabang · 3 years

Text

Fic Rec: Sci-Fi

aliens! robots! space!

like bombs in the distance | addandsubtract

“Oh, you’re awake,” he hears, and that sounds like –

“Dylan,” Zach says. A few pieces slide into place – the alarm last night, the turbulence, the way everything went swiftly dark. “Oh, Jesus, you didn’t.”

notes: the tension in this one is soooo good, and the contrast between zach and dylan is painful in the best way

Through the Dark | hedgerose

Sid opens the door, and his eyes catch the barest glimpse of a kid-- in his early teens, at the oldest-- this kid, all shaved head and big, doe-soft eyes. His knuckles are split and there's a fading bruise high on his left cheekbone, but he meets Sid's eyes squarely, blinking in the sudden light.

"Hi," Sid finds himself saying, almost inanely. "I'm Sidney Crosby. We're here to help."

notes: extremely interesting worldbuilding and a big cast of characters. this one reminds me of tarsus iv fic in the star trek fandom which i mean very much as a compliment

tragic hockeybot Geno | sevenfists

“The fuck’s wrong with Geno?” Kuni muttered to him, and Sid shook his head. He knew a fair amount about bot maintenance, but glitching wasn’t maintenance, it wasn’t common, and it meant that something was pretty wrong.

notes: i am the world’s biggest sucker for any android au and this one hits especially hard! androids and their vulnerabilities and dealing with the fallout thereof

pledge my allegiance and bite my tongue | spock

It's a given that all droids will develop some form of their own unique idiosyncrasies, but none of them are as decidedly too much as Ovi's is. He's got too much style, too much personality; it's a well known and much maligned fact that he'd nearly been recalled not all that long after his activation, but the test groups had loved him so much that he was granted an exception.

notes: see notes above!

Bright and (Not Too) Early (the Android remix) | kleinergruenerkaktus

The start of training camp is the time for new season's resolutions. So when Gemma asks “Anything else I should know?” and Tanner, as per usual, goes “Nah”, Jeff pipes up with “What about your premature ejaculation thing?”

“FUCK YOU, Jeff,” goes Tanner.

“His what?” goes Gemma.

“Jesus Christ, Carts,” goes Tyler, who finished his medical like an hour ago and has a habit of hanging around the shop whenever Tanner gets work done. “Privacy?!”

“Shoulda made me sign an NDA last night,” shrugs Jeff. “Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time, but I’m just saying. That’s gotta be a bug or something. Why not just get it fixed?”

notes: this one is FUN and hot and i adore that it’s a remix! bring back REMIXES amiright!

In Space No One Can Hear You (Say My Name) | neerdowellwolf

The human turns just as Joel is starting to unhinge his jaw, but instead of screaming like most of them do he just says, "Oh."

Joel rehinges his jaw to respond. "Oh?"

The human nods. "This makes sense why there've been so many dead bodies. It was you."

notes: just too funny to even describe. an “among us” au featuring big ol’ monsterfucker carter hart

Attraction Force | littleconnections

Joel listens to music Morgan has never heard of before. Joel says prayers Morgan doesn’t know. Joel knows how to sweettalk the AI, how to find the best hidden corners on the ship, how to sleep when the ship whirrs around them. He’s been to alien planets and eaten food Morgan would never put in his mouth.

He’s also never been to beach. He barely knows any animals, and most of those only from network shows. He doesn’t know how to cook, and not just in the way Morgan doesn’t know how to cook, but like he doesn’t know what a kitchen looks like.

Morgan is kinda into him.

notes: coming of age! in space! this one really hits all the tender achey notes of going to a new place and starting a new chapter but ALSO features cool space hockey and gritty as a sentient AI

imploring harvest | chartreuser

Nicke just wants to play hockey, eat some iPhones, and watch his boyfriend photosynthesise.

notes: super interesting twist on an alien au, and i love the characterization across the board

double digging for the successful transplant of organic cultivars | Rest

Tom works on a fishing boat in long shifts of four or five days. He lives with one of his brothers. They work at different times and on different days and do not see each other so much.

Mike's days begin early in the morning and end around sundown. He has time for his son, but not enough time by his measure. His aim is not for a helper. He is looking for a partner in parenthood and a companion.

Tom likes working with his hands, but it is a solitary life. He would much prefer to be married. Leaving and settling elsewhere is his surest chance for having that.

notes: this one is so evocative and atmospheric, it almost feels like a historical au in tone. also the way the author writes the child character here is poignant and perfect!

these, our bodies | growlery writes (growlery)

Travis was built for Flyers hockey. He was a first-rounder, but not in the top ten, so he's a pretty standard build. Fast, chippy, on the smaller side but strong. No McDavid, but then they've never made an android as good as McDavid. That kind of talent you can't synthesise, apparently.

notes: excellent android story with some lines that absolutely gut-punch you

#hockey rpf #fic rec #sci-fi #genre fic

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bouncybrain · 2 years

Text

Get to Know my Fics

Newest to Oldest; AO3 edition

This is a really long post with little insights into my fics published on ArchiveOfOurOwn. Years and fandoms marked down so you can scroll past if there's a fandom you don't like and so you can see how long I've been posting on AO3!

None of my fics have explicit sexual anything.

Series:

Fins and Fangs (2022, Five Nights at Freddy's [Security Breach])

Rating: Teen and Up, General Relationships

Relationships: Sun & Moon, Sun & Moon & the Glamrocks & Vanessa

Series Description:

Sun and Moon had a family. They knew there was family beyond the two of them, because they could remember it. When they saw the other merfolk in the facility, how lonely they were, they knew they were different because of it. If they could stay together, they would be able to survive. Then Moon's violent tendencies became too much for their handlers, and they're being thrust into an unknown world because of it. Follow Sun and Moon on their journey from captivity to freedom.

Along the way, watch as they meet new people and make their first friends!

This is my current work-in-progress: inspired by Mermay and just wanting to write and publish something new, I started this one. I'm really enjoying putting in the thought work needed to grow the universe, so stick around to see what else I come up with for this! (Extraneous content can be found under the "mertendants au" tag.)

Felon Fathers (2021, Dream SMP)

Rating: General-Teen and Up, General Relationships

Relationships: Technoblade & Dream (the roleplay finger puppets, not the people)

Series Description:

Dream spent years in Pandora's Vault, several of those alongside Technoblade. Nearly a year after being released, living in a little cottage in a vibrant forest, Dream comes across an abandoned child.

Dad moments, healing, and reconciliations to follow.

Sammy is a plot baby designed specifically to fit this story for convenience's sake.

This is the first self-indulgent fic I’ve posted since 2017. DreamSMP had me by the throat ngl, but it didn’t stop me from getting stumped. The series and two of three fics are unfinished, and may stay that way. That’s not to say I don’t have about a dozen unfinished chapters waiting in the wings though—

The Radio Demon Has… Something (2020, Hazbin Hotel)

Ratings: Teen and Up, Other Relationships

Relationships: Alastor & Husk & Niffty & Charlie (Vaggie's here, too, I'm just scared of writing her)

Series Description:

There are many things Alastor never really experienced in life, and simply assumed he never would experience. In Hell, though, the unexpected becomes the expected, and Alastor... really should have expected things like this to start happening after a few decades.

A series of Alastor-centric fics exploring his character, psyche, and his relationships with others.

So. Alastor, amiright? His potential as a character from what we know immediately grabbed my attention, and I had too many thoughts about it. Series features a Christmas fic! The main fic is unfinished, but it's three chapters away from being completed: I have one of them in progress.

Individual Fics:

Fins and Fangs (2022, Five Nights at Freddy's [Security Breach])

Rating: Teen and Up, General Relationships

Relationships: Sun & Moon, Sun & Moon & the Glamrocks & Vanessa

Series Description:

Along the way, watch as they meet new people and make their first friends!

Once Upon a Midnight Dreary (2020, My Hero Academia)

Ratings: Mature, Multiple Relationships

Relationships: Kurogiri/Mr. Compress, Eraserhead/Present Mic, every combination of those four with & between them

Fic Description:

Mr. Compress told himself he wouldn't get attached. He did anyway.

Eraserhead told himself he was over the death of an old friend. He isn't.

When the identity of Kurogiri comes to light, so do many other things, including the past of one of the elder members of the League of Villains. Eraserhead has to negotiate with the enemy for the sake of one man, and come to terms with the reality of what happens next.

The quintessential My Hero Academia fic! As the person that coined “BlackMagic” for the Kurogiri/Mr. Compress fic it was a crime that I hadn’t actually written and posted anything for it. So I did. The plot for this fic was like 80% fleshed out and then I got distracted (see above series as to why) so it's very unfinished. I’m probably not going to come back to this one. Built on the idea that Mr. Compress used to be a UA student at one point, was friends with Oboro, and was a campus cryptid.

Nights Darker Than the Beast (2017, My Hero Academia)

Ratings: Teen and Up, unspecified relationships

Relationships: Shouji/Tokoyami, Shouji & Tokoyami

Fic Description:

Really angsty short fic about Tokoyami with a dash of Shoutoko throughout. I do brush by canon-typical violence, suicidal thoughts, and pretty bad nightmares in this fic, so if you're sensitive to those things please do not read it. Since this does have a bit of a darker tone to it, I moved the rating to Teen and Up.

Honestly? Ew. I don't like this anymore. Just adding this because it is part of my list of works and it's always good to have something to look back on to see how you've grown over the years. But that doesn't mean I have to like it, and that's okay, too! I haven't read this since I posted it. I don't look at it.

Ficlets

Sunshine and Storm Clouds (2019, Detroit: Become Human)

Ratings: General, General Relationships

Relationships: Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed, Elijah and Gavin & Elijah and Gavin's mother

Fic Description:

Gavin Reed has a favorite song he never listens to. Gavin Reed has a talent he never shares. There's a reason, but he won't tell anyone, of course. His half-brother Elijah Kamski is the only other person that knows, for one very specific reason.

I spat this out in less than an afternoon. Starring the “Gavin Reed and Elijah Kamski are somehow related” thing we all ran away with. Technically a song fic? I wouldn’t know because I don’t read them and I guess I’ve only written this one.

Two Spiders, One Body (2016, Overwatch)

Ratings: General, Multiple Relationships

Relationships: Widowmaker & Gerard Lacroix, Widowmaker & Reaper

Fic Description:

Widowmaker had a husband and good friends, once. That all disappeared within minutes.

Another ficlet, except this time it's because I... used this as a prompt filler for a class in high school. It's weird to scroll all the way down my works list just to see this because I don't remember writing it in the slightest. But I mean it's here?

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di-kut · 4 years

Text

Baar Bal Runi: Chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Words: 4k

Summary: (Body Swap AU) You are forced out into the desert to find moisture farmers on the desert planet. On your trip the Mandalorian asks you questions about your past he’s wanted to know for more than six months, and some truths are revealed.

Rating: A cautious M. This chapter has some descriptions of canon typical violence. While it’s not graphic it is very obvious what is being discussed. Violence related to war.

Tags: body swap, force sensitivity

A/N: This is the second part of the not officially two parted chapter and this is the GOOD part (hopefully, lol) Backstory amiright ladies? Backstory backstory backstory and MORE backstory. I’m a slut for it. Also an excuse for some e m o t i o n s Because I JUST KEEP FEELING THEM. Also fckn s/o to @namay @hdlynn @sistasarah-sallysaidso and @fleurdemiel145 for the beautiful feedback u guys r everything 💕

It's the beginning of harvest season. The aliens which run the moisture farm are ones you have never seen before, hard skin, narrow eyes almost shut against the glare of the desert. They speak no basic, but sign in a language similar enough to Tusken that Mando can negotiate a price. The two tanks of water you buy are barely enough to drink for a week. Will only get you to the next nearest planet with a trading centre by millilitres. It costs you all the spare parts you have. Makes you grit your teeth beneath the helmet.

They offer you shelter in a small outhouse. A round, domed building made of the same red dirt as the surface of the planet. Mando is quiet the whole day. Barely speaks even when the farmers leave you alone in the hut. The child’s crib finally open in the controlled air. Outside the shape of the vaporators on the horizon spear against the sky. Mando shows you how to tilt up the helmet just enough to eat without pulling it off. The farmers come by to check on you with frequency which makes you too nervous to take it off completely. He’s tense and stiff even when you are alone. You find yourself buried in your blankets before the sun begins to set. Sore from two days riding and sorer at knowing there is the same ahead. Find yourself missing your lumpy cot on the Crest.

The next morning Mando wakes you before dawn. The farm is already busy. The air is bitterly cold before the sun rises. Mando has his scarf wrapped so tightly around his face even his eyes are barely visible. It is not until well after dawn your tanks are loaded onto the carriages of the two bikes and ready to go. Mando signs his thanks. He is unsettled, twitching to leave. You set out when the last of the stars have finally faded away, melted into a pale blue sky.

The sun rises quickly once you set out. The air becomes bearable. You think that the warp of haze in the desert is worse that day, so there is no horizon. The sun is so bright your eyes begin to strain. The terrain so flat and constant. You will be glad to turn your backs to the planet and move on. The day slips by. Slow at first, so that you think maybe you will be stuck in the desert forever, and then too quickly. Your toes had gone numb first. Then your legs. Your fingers burned around the handles until they didn’t anymore. Mando doesn’t stop to eat or rest and you follow.

It's pitch black but for a beam of white from the front lights of your bike when you finally stop. You leave it on, stagger off your bike. Hands aching and sore to flex from clutching the bike. It takes some time for the blood begin to flow, hurts your toes when it does. But you have no time to linger and ease onto your feet. Mando hasn’t moved from the bike, he’s so stiff and still even in the dark by the light of the stars you can see it. You almost trip getting to his bike and when you finally do he moves, peels himself off the bike with enormous effort. He stumbles and you manage to catch his arm. It’s shaking. Badly. You should have stopped an hour ago. More, maybe. The cold is coming on too fast in the dark. You should be angry at him – angry he would risk exposing you both to the freezing night air.

“You idiot, Mando.” It has no bite. No anger. You help him to sit on the dirt and make quick work of extracting his bed roll and thermal cape from his pack. Roll them out and check you have everything in the bike light. Set the bed rolls out and catch something before you can add the thermal cape. A patch of light through the middle of it.

You move and hold it up to the light. The cape is threadbare, worn through in places so you can almost see the bike behind. You drop it to the ground and dig out your own pack, fumble for your thermal cape. Hold it to the light as well. Its seen better days, but it is whole and not so thin as Mando’s. The anger you knew you should have felt before surfaces now and you turn back to him, rolled into his bed and pull the covers back. Wrap the thermal cape around him and cover him again. He stares at you, just his eyes over the top of his scarf. You want to scream at him. Don’t. Turn back to your packs to extract the woodbricks.

It takes you several tries to get the fire going. The cold is biting, but nowhere near as bad as you know it must be for Mando. Whatever is lining the armour is keeping your body heat within and the coating on the coarseweave keeps the worst of the cold at bay. You coax the flames as they begin to eat through the woodbrick, poke at them until the blaze is hot and bright. Hold your hands out in front of it to warm them. Mando shifts closer beside you. As close as he can without setting himself and his bed things alight. You crouch there until your fingers no longer burn from cold and your toes have feeling. Only then do you lay out and climb into your own bedroll, sitting upright.

“What in the kriffing hell is wrong with you?” You snap at him. Hold up his ragged cape. “Why do you have this?”

“Only have three.” He says. You can still hear the shake of his shivering.

“Why do you have the worst one?” You want to hurl the thing at his head, peaking out the top of his blankets. “You don’t have the armour on anymore! You’re going to freeze to death out here.”

He doesn’t answer.

“We should have stopped an hour ago. What the kriff do you expect me to do if you die?” You wait. Wait for some kind of response. He doesn’t say anything. “Mando!”

“We’re fine.”

You could scream. Have the sudden and childish urge to hit him. You drop the helmet into your hands. You can’t think of anything to say to that. So you clamber back out of the protection of the bedroll and check the kid. Pull out some of the salted meat and pass it in to him quickly with a gentle pat behind his ear before you seal him back in. Wary of the cold. But the crib is warm inside. You find yourself wishing for one. Wish it were big enough to crawl in with him and avoid the cold.

By the time you settle back in your bedding you are too tired to be angry. You pass over Mando his share of the food. He grabs your wrist instead. Catches your eye. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

You sigh. He takes the food and draws it under the blankets. You watch as he tucks as much of himself into it before unwinding the scarf. He eats quickly. Mustn’t even taste it. Winds the scarf back up around his nose and mouth and pulls the blankets up over his head.

“Are you at least getting warmer?” You ask.

He grunts.

You think it means yes.

The feeling is creeping. Slow and quiet. Until it’s not anymore, until you realise it isn’t yours. It’s an aching feeling, tired and sad. Almost guilty but not quite. Loss. Grief – not new, but not old either. Still weeping and sore. You nestle back into your bed covers, lay down finally. Your uneaten food next to your head. The Mandalorian must feel everything so intensely, because it fills you up until you have no room left in your heart for anything else. Just like the first time you had ever felt him on the Crest. It lingers and hurts until it becomes dry. A well all used up. And then it becomes soft. Aching in a different way. Familiar somehow, but before you can place it the feeling retreats and you are alone with your own heart again. When you twist slightly so you can see his face, his eyes are visible again. Looking at you.

“Why didn’t you come with me when I asked you on Batuu?” He says, voice muffled by the blankets.

The fire cracks and pops. A small shower of sparks illuminates the dirt beneath for only a moment before they fizzle and fade. The question sits heavily between you, so heavy it’s almost visible. He doesn’t look away and you can’t. Can’t find a way to tear your eyes from his. Aren’t sure where the question has come from.

“I…” You let out a shaking breath. “I was scared.”

“Of me?”

“No!” You jerk back slightly. And then more calmly, “No, Mando. Not of you. Maybe – maybe at first. I thought… I thought maybe when you came into the shop you were going to collect the bounty on me.”

“I was never going to.”

You smile. “I know now.”

He looks away first. He has relaxed finally, not curled in on himself so tight. You peer through the dark, think he has stopped shaking as well. Feel yourself sink further into your own blankets. More comfortable. Still too cold to be tired.

“What were you scared of?” He asks.

You roll onto your back. Above you the stars are visible, a river of silver light across the sky. Winking from the heavens. Bright. Infinite. They seem further away than you could ever reach, even in one hundred lifetimes. And yet, in the frigid desert air, close enough that if you brought your hand out from the blanket you could touch them. Trace the shape of them in the sky. A sky filled with life, and yet you are completely alone with the Mandalorian and his son. The darkness beyond the light of the fire so absolute you could be your own planet, floating with the stars.

“Everything.” A whisper. “After – after Coruscant. I’d never been alone before. Not really. And I thought… maybe… maybe I was better off. There, on Batuu.” You swallowed. Look at him again. He’s watching you too. “I regretted it, you know? After you left the first time. I thought I was never going to see you again and I thought – ”

“What?” He asks when you stop. “What did you think?”

You can’t hold his gaze, so you turn back to the stars. “I realised I was already alone.”

He’s quiet. Hums softly. You hear the sound of him shifting and when you chance glancing at him from the corner of your eye he is rolled onto his back. Staring with you into the galaxy. The moment settles around you. Peaceful. Easy. You tilt your helmet up like you had the night before, the way Mando had shown you. The air is so cold on your bare skin you hiss and swear. Hear the deep sound of your voice without the vodocor and it makes your stomach tighten. You can feel Mando look to you again at the sounds. Eat as quickly as you can. Feel relief when you can pull the helmet back down and the warm fog of your breathing warms your face.

You nestle deep as you can into your blankets. You aren’t as warm as you had been the first night out in the desert. Certainly not as warm as the night before in the dirt hut with the moisture farmers. Think you might kill the Mandalorian for giving you the warmer cape. So very typical of him not to say anything. You still miss it as you wait for the blankets around you to heat, hardly as effective without the thicker thermal cape. You tuck the thinning one in anyway, figure it must be better than nothing. You close your eyes. Open them again. Remember Batuu without really meaning to. The heat. The mech shop. The first time you’d seen the gleam of the Mandalorian’s armour. A lifetime ago. Really only six months. Think of the welding mask he’d given you as payment on his second visit to Batuu, hidden away under your cot on the Crest. You hadn’t needed it since coming aboard. Remember the way he’d tilted his helmet when he’d seen you carrying it after he’d given it to you. It makes your chest tighten.

“I don’t feel alone anymore.”

You feel silly as soon as they slip out. The words so quiet they crackle through the modulator. Drop in and out. But so loud in the quiet. Mando turns his head back to you. Eyes glowing in the flames of the fire. You don’t feel silly when you see the intensity there. It makes the tightness in your stomach double and twist. Feel a flush along the back of your neck and ears. The confession feels somehow more intimate because you are blushing in the Mandalorian’s body. Because it is his stomach you feel tightening.

“Gotabor.” His voice is so gentle. Makes the name feel different. Special. Not just engineer. The first time he’s said it to you since the swap, except – your panic attack. He had said it then too. Just as soft. Just as gentle. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you do it?”

You don’t need him to elaborate. Don’t need any more explanation, even though he had never asked you before. Never brought it up. Never even asked what the records contained. He knew your bounty. Traitor to the Empire. Aid to the Resistance. Wanted dead or alive. With some number, some meagre amount which felt too infinitesimally small to represent your life. As if your life could be contained within some amount of credits. Worth so little. Your bounty didn’t say why you were wanted, that you had leaked Empire orders for tie fighters, but he had known that when he found you on Batuu. Knew your real name.

You shake your head. “I don’t know.”

He’s silent.

“I didn’t even think about it first. I don’t think I even thought about it while I was doing it. It was so stupid. There was this guy, I can’t even remember his name. Some guy I met when I was out for drinks. I remember seeing him there and just thinking he was so… dirty. No one looked like that on Coruscant,” you say. Wish it didn’t sound as awful as it was. “And I saw him show some guy this little badge. I knew it. We all knew it. The insurgents. The rebel scum. And I just followed them. They didn’t see me.” You close your eyes. “They used to show these photos, you know. Have these big triumphant displays up in all the records buildings. And they had this one the next day of this – this – this pile of people. Like it was some, some victory. I never liked them. But after that night all I could see was that man in the bar lying in the pile with them. It was so stupid. And I just… I just did it. I found him again and I gave them to him. It probably meant nothing to them. Just spec sheets. Diagrams. How many they were ordering. They would do hundreds of orders. I – I guess it made me feel better. Like I wasn’t as bad as the rest of them.”

You open your eyes again. Look at Mando. Expect to see the hatred there. The revulsion. You feel it yourself, when you let yourself think about it. About life before Batuu. Some ridiculous little story of self-redemption while his people had burned at the hands of the Empire. But you don’t see them. His eyes are still gentle. The air around him is still quiet. It makes you feel better, lighter. Makes you feel even more stupid.

“I regretted it,” you say. “I went home afterwards and cried. So spoilt.”

“But you did it again.” Not a question.

“Yeah. Three more times. But the Empire was already falling apart. By the time anyone realised, I was long gone.” You want to stop, but now you’ve started you find you can’t. Words you’ve never said tumbling out. “They make you feel so important. The Empire. They make you feel like if you fall short then everyone does. Like we’re not some expendable cogs to them. Like you really matter.” And you feel awful, you feel terrible, but the words don’t stop, “The rebel guy. The informant. He said the same thing to me. The same thing as the Empire did. I was important.”

Mando is quiet again.

“I didn’t want to be just someone’s cog.”

You’re breathing hard. Almost panting. You aren’t sure if you feel better or worse having it out. Having it said. You think it might sit somewhere between. Some sort of shifting feeling between relief and fear. You wait for Mando to tell you how silly you sound. How childish he finds the whole thing. But he doesn’t. He just watches you, unchanged. Still looking at you the same way.

“Do you regret it now?”

Coruscant was different to this. Different to everything you knew now. Had been cold after your mother died and left you in the hands of the academy. But it was easy. It was inevitable. Life simply went on there. A Galaxy away from the Outer Rim. From Batuu. From the Mandalorian and his son. A son who maybe was like you. On Coruscant the war had felt like some holodrama. It hadn’t even been given the dignity of being known as war. It was a blight on the Empire, some upstart uprising. Some distant petulant child, throwing empty threats at an adult. But they had won. The Resistance had won. And life was the same for everyone else. Coruscant was too far away for the Resistance to control, and the Outer Rims too wild. But you aren’t resentful any longer.

“No. Not anymore.”

You are warm. Finally. The thinner thermal cape finally trapping in the heat of your body. You feel the weight of your eyelids. Time begins to slip, pull all around you. You think Mando is pleased at your answer, but you are too tired to figure out why. Happy he doesn’t hate you for the life you used to live. The fire still burns bright, heat pulsing against your bed rolls. You turn onto your side. Tuck your hands beneath the helmet to try and reduce the pulling it makes against your neck. You will be glad of the Crest when you get back so you can remove it.

“Mando?” You call. Not quite ready to sleep yet. He hums in response. “Why did you save the kid?”

He’s silent. You think maybe he had fallen asleep already. But finally, you hear a rustle. He turns on his side to face you across the flames. Looks as tired as you feel. “I don’t know,” he echoes you. “It just… seemed like the only option.”

You nod. There is another moment of peace. Warm and understanding. You feel the space between your souls pull. Closer together. You think you feel him again, a brush against you, but the feeling is gone before you can latch onto it. Retreating back into Mando. You think you will have to tell him about that also, three times now that you have felt his heart. But not tonight.

Mando goes slower the next day. Stops halfway back to let you both stretch and move. The ride is worse. Worse because your muscles ache in protest to clamping your weight around the bike. Better as well, because you will be back to the Crest in a few hours. Bearable because it is nearly over. The haze is not so bad either. It doesn’t hurt your eyes so badly. You can even manage to find a beauty in the flat, red landscape now that you know you are leaving it. You mention this to Mando while you lean, side-by-side, against his bike. It makes him laugh. The air around you both feels lighter than it has weeks. Longer even than the swap.

You load the water into the ship’s tanks with the mechanic. Mando avoids the yard, returns the bikes one by one. You are grateful when the mechanic is too terrified to talk to you, although a part of you thinks you shouldn’t be. You pump what you need into the ship’s tank, load the rest into the filtered water reserve. Let the mechanic talk you through the work he’d done on the ship with more patience than he deserves. It takes some time, and you double check everything by habit, protective of the ancient ship which has become your home. The mechanic fades off, leaves you to your checks. The kid is with you, you’d packed the crib aside and let him wander after you freely. Guilty he’d been cooped in there so long. He’s gleeful at the chance to stretch his legs. Sometimes crawls onto your boot and hangs on while you walk, squealing in delight at every step.

Mando arrives back as you finish closing the hatch. Eyes the smears of engine grease on the Beskar and the coarseweave.

“When we get to the next planet we need to shower,” he says. The bluntness makes you flush. “I’m going to clean the Beskar.”

You nod carefully. Relieving yourself was enough, certainly necessary. You know this will be different, though. A new kind of intimate. Know under the Beskar you must need it desperately. Know you will feel better with the grit of almost two weeks finally washed away. But – you try not to imagine it. You have enough material already that the image is clear enough without having ever stripped out of his underclothes. Try not to think about Mando surely also having the same thoughts. Seeing all of you. You manage a strangled sound of assent and have to walk onto the ship, can’t look at your own face. Can’t look at the dark blush marking those cheeks the longer you take to reply.

He doesn’t bring it up again. Let’s you empty both your packs and climbs into the cockpit. He waits for you to climb the ladder before he shows you the planet nearest to you. A trading port. You will need more fuel before long. Need more water. He’d calculated the distance already, you would make it there with what you had, but not with another jump to hyperspace. Another four days. Nearly a week. You have enough of the dried bread and fruits, and salted meats for longer. Spare rations bars. You collapse into the co-pilot’s chair while Mando sets coordinates. Prepares to leave.

Your legs are aching from the bike. Finally sitting it rushes over you fully. You groan and stretch them in front of you, stretch your arms above your head. Your back is the worst, hunched over the handlebar for days. Curled onto the hard dirt in the desert.

“Maker, I’m sore.” You tilt your head, stretch your neck out. Feel the muscles twinge and resist. “Kriff I am so sore.”

Mando huffs. “Back’s probably locked up.”

“Yeah, it feels like it.”

“Take it easy.”

You continue to move as much as you can bear. “Why am I so sore? Are you not sore?”

“I get thrown around a lot. Get hit a lot.”

You pause your stretching. For a moment you can’t piece together what he’s saying. And then. “Is this – is this a you thing? Maker, Mando, do you always feel like this?”

“Bounty hunting isn’t exactly an easy job,” he mutters. “Only if I’ve been sleeping rough. Or fighting someone.”

You groan and begin stretching again in earnest. As much as you can with the restriction of the Beskar. Mando is shaking his head from the pilot’s chair. You feel him watching you out of the corner of his eye. You push yourself up, ignore the way he tilts his head. You push your arms over your head and then drop your whole upper body down. Fold in on yourself and let your hands hang as close to your toes as you can get them. Straighten slowly. Change your stretch. It’s tight in the cockpit. There’s barely enough room for you both to sit, let alone stretch out. But you don’t think you will make it down the ladder. Eventually Mando abandons any pretence of ignoring you and swings the chair around fully. You have your back to him, but you still hear the muffled laughter.

“Shut up, Mando.”

Gotabor: Engineer

Tags:@btillys @vercopaanir @absurdthirst @sistasarah-sallysaidso @adikaofmandalore @babyomen @purpleeeslurpppp @fleurdemiel145 @hdlynn

#backstory!!!#I love backstory!!!#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #reader insert #force sensitive reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #fic #my fic #baar bal runi

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bettsfic · 3 years

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march pinned: ending the sex project

in the march edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and upcoming consultation availability, i have personal essay recommendations and a segment on the definition of a project!

for more information on my creative coaching services, check out my carrd.

if you want to receive my lowkey writing-related newsletter directly, you can subscribe here.

full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

fuck february, amiright?

i thought january was bad. but february. february was the stuff of nightmares. my cousin passed away from covid (you can read about her here; she was really an amazing person and i feel so lucky to have known her). i was finally formally diagnosed with PCOS (bittersweet, i guess). my car broke down. i took two (2) days off and it took me two and a half weeks to get caught up again. i can only hope march treats us all a little more gently.

the good news is, i finished revisions on my short story collection to send to my agent, finished workshop submissions for the semester, and now i can return to my first love, fanfiction. that i am constantly working through original fiction to return to fanfiction has been making me think a lot about the nature of a creative, capital-p Project. so, this month’s BTALA (been thinkin a lot about) is going to inspect the concept of a “project.”

new resource

last month i unveiled a folder of my favorite short stories which i’m pleased to hear several of you have perused and gotten some inspiration from. this month i’ve compiled my favorite personal essays. there are fewer essays than there are short stories because i’ve broken them into two groups: personal and craft. next month i hope to have the craft essays compiled.

i’m always looking for more things to love, so if you have recommendations for your favorite short stories and essays, i’d be happy to hear them!

writing-related posts

how to physically maneuver the revision process

the difference between M and E ratings of fic

resources for worldbuilding (check out the reblogs for more!)

a couple syntax/prose book recs

how to break a long work into chapters

march availability

unfortunately i have to cut my coaching hours down a bit, so i don’t have any openings left in march, but i have some availability in april. if you’re interested in a writing consultation, please fill out this google form!

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

what i’m into rn

for the past year, i’ve basically been trapped in a 10x10 room, and my health is definitely reflecting that, both mentally (does anyone else feel like they’re living in groundhog day? just, every day being exactly the same except fractionally worse than the day before??) and physically (i reorganized the kitchen and could barely move for two days).

reader, i have discovered something called “walking,” in which i put on real human shoes and go outside. it feels strange, bestial. neighbors wave hello to me. a harrowing experience.

while doing this, this walking, i’ve been listening to the lolita podcast which a friend recommended to me, a ten-episode series that dives into everything lolita: the novel itself, its context, adaptations, greater cultural responses, and — as a sticker on my laptop says — vladimir “russian dreamboat” nabokov. as far as i can tell it seems well-researched and presents the many perspectives of lolita in a fair way. i’m only a few eps in, but i’m entranced so far. highly recommended if you, like me, have a complicated relationship with lolita.

i’ve also found myself mildly addicted to a mobile otome game called obey me, which. look i know it’s like the definition of cringe but it’s also mind-numbingly fun and if i want to spend my minimal free time pretending 7 demon brothers are all vying for my affection then that’s between me and god. it’s a lot of what i loved about WoW: frequent events, bright colors, a daily to do list of simple but satisfying tasks, many many rewards, and it doesn’t take itself very seriously. and if i have 4k fic written of mammon/reader that’s nobody’s business but mine and my longsuffering ao3 subscribers.

i’m telling you this because i don’t know anyone else who plays it and am desperate to trade headcanons. so if you play, or start playing, hit me up!! i will give u mad tips and daily AP.

been thinkin a lot about

the project. the project. even the word “project.” PROject (noun). proJECT (verb). what is the project? “project” comes from the latin pro and jacare which means “to throw forward,” or projectum which means “something prominent.” a projector throws forward an image. to project onto something means to throw your perspective onto something else. to embark on a project is to make something prominent in your life. the concept of “the projects” comes from public housing projects, the government throwing forward affordable housing.

what is the project? in joseph harris’ essay “coming to terms” he says that “to define the project of a writer is…to push beyond his text, to hazard a view about not only what someone has said but also what he was trying to accomplish by saying it.” harris’ perspective is that of an english teacher encouraging his students to read critically, not just to summarize a text but to find its project, its greater purpose. and while i first read this essay in a seminar on composition pedagogy, it stuck with me as a writer. it made me reconsider the greater nature of the creative project.

how many of us, if asked to describe our writing project, would begin with a plot or character premise, the nuts and bolts of a specific story? maybe even the working title? but i wonder, is breaking out the plot really the project? is the discipline of sitting down and typing really the project? and when the story is finished, is the project over? what is the project?

in 2019, i wrote 86k words of a novel. i began revising that novel last fall, and i’m finding that i’ll probably keep maybe less than 10k of that initial draft. i’m not bothered by that. the novel i wrote before that started at 125k, then i rewrote the entire thing to 200k, then i whittled it back down to 160k, and next i’ll be tasked with paring it back down to 80k. i’m not bothered by that either. in the past five years or so i’ve written about 2 million words, and i’ve only published 20k of them. only 1% of what i’ve written, i’ve published. in the words of lauren cooper (catherine tate), i’m not bothered.

i used to see publication as the birth of the project, and writing it akin to a long gestation period. then i saw publication as the death of the project, and its life was lived in its drafting. now, publication seems irrelevant to the project. the confines of a story and its many revisions are also irrelevant to the project. the beginning of a story is not the start of the project and the end of the story is not the end of the project. the project is larger than the story, its revisions, its publication, and its eventual readership.

i think it took me so long to see this because for so many years i was still in my first project, the sex project, an exploration of trauma and sexual identity, which began in 2014 with destiel fanfiction, endured through many fandom shifts, my MFA, years adrift as an adjunct, all the way through 2020 with the completion of my short story collection. i used to wonder how anyone could write about anything other than sex. to me it was the only topic worth my attention. i was certain that i would spend my entire life being a sex writer and i’d never find fulfillment writing a young adult sci fi adventure or a highly literary novel about complicated family dynamics. i was baffled by people who were interested in other things, who could write entire novels without using the word “cock” even once.

then my sex project ended. i don’t know when exactly it happened or why, but suddenly i realized i never wanted to write another artful description of an orgasm or find a tactful euphemism for a vagina ever again (personally i prefer “wet cunt” because not only is it blunt, i find it phonetically pleasing). obviously i’m still writing explicit fanfic but it doesn’t feel the same as it used to. sex feels more sidelined to me, even if it’s still the center and drive of a fic. i no longer get any personal satisfaction from writing it, although i do get satisfaction in sharing the work for readers to enjoy.

it’s like i’ve somehow solved the biggest puzzle of my life. or i guess made peace with my meanest monster, that extremely complicated double-mind of desire that some non-sex-repulsed asexuals feel: you want to feel desire you can’t actually feel so you write it into fiction, to try to understand this thing you can’t have and which society tells you you’re missing, and you don’t even know if you don’t have it, because you still feel desire for affection and intimacy, and maybe even a desire to be desired. and for those of us who are asexual and have c-ptsd, sex you don’t actually want (but don’t know you don’t want, because maybe you’re ambivalent and mildly curious and touch-starved) and an unrelenting drive toward people-pleasing can be a dangerous combination. how can you ever know what consent is if you always put other people’s desires above your own?

maybe i’m alone in this. maybe i’m not. maybe for most people, wanting sex is a light switch: yes i want it, or no i don’t. but for me, i had to write a whole lot of words to figure out things like desire, consent, intimacy, forgiveness, the shape that good love takes. the lengthy theoretical flowchart of “i might be interested in having sex if this and this and this and this and this happens in this exact order and under these exact circumstances.”

it was hard to write something into reality that i have never seen except in pieces, in subtext i clung to with no lexicon to give it shape and meaning. te lawrence in lawrence of arabia. some of tarantino’s early work. the film benny and joon. and weirdly, the star wars prequels (that one’s hard to explain; i’ll spare you). i don’t think the sex project was about coming to terms with my asexuality as much as it was trying to organize my thoughts and feelings by continuously rendering my own experiences within a greater, shinier ideal — like how you sometimes have to unravel the entire skein of yarn to find the loose end, and only then can you get started.

i guess i’m in the infancy of the power project now. i’m moving toward themes of control, infamy, greatness. the exact circumstances in which atrocity occurs. how people rise into leadership and fall from grace. the consequences of success. i don’t know why this project has come to me, or what, if anything, it has to do with me. i’m not famous and have no intention of becoming famous; i don’t have social power or influence, at least not beyond my little corner of fandom, and i’m not interested in having it. and yet, here we are, already hundreds of thousands of words in.

my fics digging for orchids (tgcf) and a standing engagement (the hunger games) deal with the detriments of fame. and even float (breaking bad) to a degree is about the aftermath of being so close to power. my novel cherry pop, loosely based on macbeth, is about an ongoing power exchange between two teenage girls. my other novel, vandal, is about a girl who believes she has magic powers and casts a spell on her neighbor to fall in love with her. and i’m in the very early stages of a novel called groundswell, a cult story i’ve been wanting to write for years. i had no idea why i couldn’t write it until i realized it wasn’t yet my project. i’m not even to the stage of developing characters, let alone a premise or plot. i’m still just building my aesthetic pile (i discuss the aesthetic pile here, as well as vandal in more detail), watching documentaries on cults, reading books, finding inspiration, marking down ideas as they come. it may be years before i’m ready to sit down and write it.

now that i know what the project is, i have more patience with myself. it doesn’t bother me to rewrite a novel from the beginning, or to scrap novels altogether, because the story isn’t the project. the project cannot be diminished by cutting words, sentences, paragraphs, entire chapters. the project does not have a product. the project cannot be published. the project is in the practice, in dragging the impossibly large into clear, acute existence, so you can see it. so you can see the very center of what you thought was an unknowable thing.

#pinned #lkwrnl

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kittenshift-17 · 4 years

Note

Your hermione is nothing like book hermione. Sorry don't like your fics. Call her self insert OC instead of hermione lol.

Reread the actual book and not fanfics, and I think you'll see that you're a little off base there, but that's okay. 😊 Our girl is tough and mean and often ruthless in the books (see her permanent disfigurement of a fellow student for tattling on them and her setting Snape on fire as a means of distraction 😳😳). If anything about the way I write her is OC, it's because I dont have her cry as often as book Hermione. @canimallow what was your count on book Hermione crying, throughout the series, again? Its over a hundred times, I think? *shudders* I can't stand the blubbering. That and, you know, often writing her as a young woman who survived a war and has outgrown her high school persona. I know lots of people in the HP fandom in their 40s and 50s who haven't done that yet, though, so I can see why some people might consider the notion that teenagers eventually do gain a little marurity as a foreign concept worthy of the "Self Insert OC" sticker slapped on it. Don't worry, I'm sure one day life will whack them upside the head with something demanding they stop acting like petulant brats. 🤫🙃🤭 Karma is a bitch like that.

But what can you do, eh? Ya can't please everyone. I've stopped trying. Ain't nobody got time for that! 🤷‍♀️🤣 But I please enough readers with my fics that I'm not broken up that you think this, to be quite honest. Like I saw the email notification for a new anon ask, and I my thought process was literally "Ooh! Hope it's another lovely soul sending me a drabble prompt.... Bet it's actually someone being rude, but oh well."

I might be more broken up if I knew who you were (or less so if I'd know your pename and don't get along with you 🤷‍♀️). It's cool, my dude. You don't like my stuff, don't sweat it. I won't. Likelihood is I'll share this, write another drabble, maybe start the next ToMT chapter today, and forget you sent this in all before dragging my butt outta bed for some breakfast... think I'll have crumpets 🤔

You don't have to like or read my stories, chika. Hit unfollow and go forth to find other works that do appeal to you. I 10000% don't mind. Everyone's got a little too much grownup shit to worry about to spend time reading things or talking to people they don't like, amiright? 🤷‍♀️😊🤭

Good luck in your search!! There are a lot of great authors out there, @freyaishtar @canimallow @shayalonnie @colubrina @curiouselfqueen @lucefray27 to name but a few, though I suppose you'd label them the same way?

In any case, I'm sure that someone, somewhere, can cater to whatever twisted little desires your shipper heart wants. Bless it, honey. Bless your heart.

Toodle pip!

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crossiantgay · 3 years

Text

This is the pt.2 of the chapter one for the Princess and the Frog au because apparently Tumblr has a post limit. Anywayyyyy-

Roman looked down.

“Not even if I paid you? Of course, if you could turn me back into a human, I could pay you handsomely” Logan looked to the side, weighing his options. With that money, he could buy the library. He could make it the best library in town, in all of New Orleans! Was it worth a moment of discomfort for all of that? Logan nodded.

“One kiss and then you get me the money, ok?” Roman nodded.

“Of course, mi estrella.” Logan leaned closer to the frog.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Roman smirked as Logan gently placed a kiss on the frog. Roman sighed. “I don’t think it worked.” Roman opened his eyes as he looked to where Logan once stood.

“...hello?” Roman looked down and saw a pile of clothes. Oh no…

“Wh-where did all these sheets come from? Why is everything so big?”

“Monsieur-” Roman said carefully. Logan looked down and saw two green, froggy legs.

“OH MY GOD WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Roman hopped down from the balcony and stood beside Logan, who was now a frog.

“I-I have to teach tomorrow- I-I can’t-” Roman cut him off.

“Wait, teach?” Roman raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, teach. I’m a teacher at the middle school.”

“So you’re not a real prince?” Roman hopped towards him, worried.

“No, I’m not a real prince! This is a costume party! Weren’t you confused why people were dressed as lobsters and ponies?” Roman looked down.

“I didn’t think of that…”

“You sure didn’t! Now I’m stuck as a frog, great!”

“Maybe if you kiss me again it will work.” Logan hopped away.

“No- no. I want nothing to do with you. I will find a way to get turned back on my own.”

“Well can’t I at least come with you? That way we can both get turned human, together.” Roman caught up to Logan. Logan only sped up.

“Just leave me alone. You’ve only made things worse for me.”

“Look, I’m sorry-”

“Well sorry doesn’t change the fact that I’m not a frog, does it?” Logan snapped at him. Next thing they knew, they were at the edge of the swamp. They could still hear the music from the party blaring. Logan glared at Roman as he hopped towards the swamp.

“Get away from me”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that-”

“I don’t want to talk to you”

“Why are you still so mad? In case you’re forgetting, I’m also a frog while I’m being impersonated by someone else”

“Well in case you forgot, you turned me into a frog.”

“Will you two stop bickering please? You’re the loudest thing in this forest, and in case you’re forgetting, some of us are just waking up.” Roman and Logan both snapped their heads around.

“Who-who said that?” Logan hopped around searching for the source of the mysterious voice.

“Save your breath, I’m right here.” A raccoon stumbled out of one of the bushes. Roman let out a high-pitched scream. Logan glared at him.

“I’m sorry- I just- don’t have a particular fascination with wild animals.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know him.” Logan said flatly. Roman scoffed.

“Rude-” Logan cut him off.

“I am Logan. This man, er frog, is Roman. He got involved in some magic and got us both turned into frogs. Do you know any place-or person who can turn us back?” Virgil stood on his hind legs and walked towards them.

“Humans…. Neat. I’ve always wanted to be a human…” He looked down at his paws.

“But as you can see, I am clearly not one. What is it like, being a human, if I can ask?”

“Well where to start?-”

“So let’s not.” Logan rolled his eyes and Roman gave him a look.

“I’m in a bit of hurry, I’m sure on our way we can tell you some about human life” Virgil nodded and began walking deeper into the swamp.

“Well? C’mon.” Virgil motioned and Roman and Logan began hopping behind him.

“Hey Rem, I found some ex-humans. Maybe you can help them or something? I don’t know-”

“BE RIGHT THERE, GIRLFRIEND” Someone called. Virgil grumbled.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT” A firefly buzzed out of the swamp and landed on a branch beside them.

“Heyyyyyy” Who they assumed was Remy smiled and Virgil lied down and mumbled.

“I too, am an ex-human. Got vain and stuff. Made a deal with the snake man and blah blah blah” He waved a skinny arm dismissively. Roman hid behind Logan and Logan scooched away from him.

“OMG I SHIPP” Remy laughed and Roman hopped away.

“Wha- no way- nO. NO! I just- um-” Roman buried his face in the ground. Remy laughed and Logan looked between them, confused.

“I’ve heard my students use that term before- what does it mean?” Remy just smiled and Virgil groaned. Logan cleared his throat.

“Um-anyway about our little frog problem-”

Remy sighed.

“I might know someone who can help” Remy looked at Virgil.

“No- we are NOT-” Virgil ran back into the bush. Roman looked at each other, confused.

“Dr.Picani might be able to help. He is a novice at magic, but something is better than nothing. You two can at least give him a visit.”

“... aren’t you going to come?” Roman asked.

“Well, I can guide you there, but he hates insects.” Virgil reemerged from the bushes and nodded.

“I hate him. Well, not him in particular, just the whole magic thing is creepy. For all magic.” Virgil laid down again. Remy hovered over virgil.

“Why do you hate him??? He’s the sweetest, cutest doctor I’ve ever met. He’s super smart and his eyes- his eyes are the deepest shade of blue I have ever seen. And his cardigan-” Remy sighed and a dark color rose to his cheeks as he realized the others were staring at him.

“Oh um-what-I uh-I said nothing-” After a short pause, virgil cleared his throat.

“So- do you really think he can turn people back to humans..?” Logan looked to him with interest and Remy nodded.

“He can practically do anything with magic. Why do you ask?” Virgil looked to the side.

“Uhm-I just-didn’t want to go there if he couldn’t- uh-” Logan mouthed an ‘oh’.

“He wants to know if he can also be turned human.” Remy paused and nodded.

“I don’t see why not.” Roman hopped toward Virgil and spoke.

“ You can come with us- if you want-unless you have something to do-”Virgil laughed.

“Yes, and a raccoon has plenty of things to do in a day.” Roman looked down.

“Nah, I guess I can come with you all. Why not, amiright?” He shrugged and sat up again.

“Should we start going or not..?” Roman floated out.

“Sit down, of course not.” Roman huffed and sat down.

“You’re no fun, you know?”

“Well, I think you should listen to me unless you want to die. We’re going to need some food and I don’t think you know the 21 types of poisonous types of mushrooms found in this region by memory? Didn’t think so. I’m the biology teacher here.” Roman rolled his eyes.

“Ok, teach. What are you gonna do, send me to the principal’s office? I say we should start going and find something along the way.” He hopped away.

“Go die then.” Logan said flatly.

“Well it’s better than getting mocked by you.” Logan tapped his foot on the ground impatiently.

“I will not be responsible for a death in this bayou. Get back here.” He could hear Roman laugh from several feet away.

“Do you care about me now all of a sudden?” Roman came into view as he hopped near them again.

“No, I’m just protecting my asset.” Roman raised his eyebrows and laughed.

“You’re less mature than most of my students.” Roman smirked.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a complime-” He was cut off by Remy.

“So I’m like, kind of confused. Are we staying here tonight or not?”

“Yes.”Logan said quickly before Roman could say anything.

Aand thats all ive got so far.