#terribly sorry for the wait !! ive had some of this in drafts for a while but i forgot abohr it
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gods, I’m so sorry. this has been in my drafts since APRIL 2023…. I’m finally getting to it, thanks so much for this sweet request ♥️
requested: bucky needing to have a hand on you (stroking ur hair, hand on ur knee, etc) at all times after he nearly loses u 🥺 to reassure u that ure safe and he's there but mostly to reassure himself
The silence was deafening, and it was so dark. Had it always been this way? James couldn’t remember. The Brooklyn apartment didn’t feel like a home anymore. It was empty without you, your absence ripping the essence of life from his home.
He sighed, not bothering to turn on the light. James didn’t have any intention to stay, the emptiness held an eerie feeling that he just couldn’t shake. He almost forgot what he’d gone home for — to get a change of clothes before heading back to the Tower, to wait for you.
James felt like he should have been out looking. You’d been missing for weeks — disappearing on a mission with Sam, to gather intel. There wasn’t supposed to be any real danger, he would never have let you go if he was worried about a threat to your safety.
“We need to go back, they found her,” Steve’s voice cut through the silence, and Bucky’s heart seized at his words.
“Is she alive?”
.
The first thing your mind registered was pain. There was a dull, heavy throbbing in every part of your body. When you tried to open your eyes, everything was too bright, and a terrible beeping worsened your splitting headache.
You blinked away the fog in your vision, a hospital room slowly coming into focus. James stood up from a chair in the corner and ran to your side, speaking frantically. You couldn’t understand him, it sounded like his voice was underwater, unclear and garbled.
Panic surged through your chest when you looked down to see an IV in your arm, and you registered the tubes on your face that were meant to help you breathe. You clawed at the IV in your arm, nails scratching your skin as you attempted to rip the needle out.
“Stop, please, baby,” James begged, grabbing your wrist to keep you from accidentally hurting yourself.
“James?” You rasped, the fear in your voice breaking his heart.
“I’m here. You’re safe, you’re in the hospital at Stark Tower. Nothing can hurt you anymore,” he promised, the words sounding clearer in your head this time.
Your chest heaved and tears started to leak down your cheeks, whimpering as a nurse emptied a sedative into your system.
James held your hand, so the nurse didn’t cuff your wrists to the bed. Your memory was foggy, but your body remembered what you’d been through — your heart rate monitor beginning to scream as the nurse talked about restraining you.
“Get out. Just get out!” James shouted, one of the few times you’d ever seen him with tears running down his face.
You began to fade as the sedative kicked in, the room quieting once it was just you and James. He listened to your shallow breathing, gently rubbing his thumb across your forearm, needing to touch you as he sat next to the bed. He had to have his hands on you, to remind himself you were there, safe.
“Don’t leave me,” you begged softly, your trembling hand laying over his.
“I won’t leave you, I promise… just get some rest, okay?” He kissed your knuckles, gazing at you with wet blue eyes.
.
“I can stay with her, so you can go home, change, sleep in your own bed?” Steve offered, coming in while you were asleep.
“I'm not leaving,” James murmured, barely looking up at his best friend.
“Has she told you anything about what happened?” Steve took a seat on the other side of your bed, an action that James was grateful for, even if he didn’t say so.
“No. She’s barely coherent, they’ve got her on some pretty intense medication…. Steve, she’s in rough shape. How was she when you found her?”
James was afraid to ask, but had to know. Steve shifted his weight, looking down at the floor before finally looking back at your sleeping form, bruised and battered.
"Bad, James. Hydra had her tied up, suspended from the ceiling."
James rubbed his fingers over the raw, red rings around your wrists from the restraints, stopping as you winced in your sleep.
You opened your eyes, looking over at him, reaching out to trail your fingertips over the scruff on his cheek.
"Steve, thank you," you spoke hoarsely, turning to the blond who stood at the end of the hospital bed.
"Of course. How are you feeling?" he approached and gently took your outstretched hand.
"Everything hurts," you groaned, shaking as you tried to sit up.
"Here," James helped you, supporting your weight as you settled into a seated position.
.
Two weeks later, you'd recovered enough to be discharged.
"I don't want to stay at the tower, I want to go home," you insisted to James, anxious to be back in the shared Brooklyn apartment.
You held his hand as he drove you to the brownstone, flinching at car horns and loud noises. As much as you ached to be home, the trauma still exhausted your nervous system, and kept James on edge.
Your friends had been kind enough to clean your place for you, warm and smelling of the dinner that was in the oven, waiting for you and James. He followed you to the kitchen, smiling softly as you eagerly dug into the first real food you’d got since your return.
Despite have the whole table to yourself, you sat on Bucky’s knee as you ate, his arm around your waist. He was quieter than usual, his face pressed into your shoulder, needing to be as close as possible. He was unable to let you go, afraid you’d slip through his fingers.
.
Later that night, Bucky sat on the edge of the tub, helping rinse your hair. He had all but gotten in the water with you, his sleeves rolled up as he tenderly washed your skin. Candles flickered on the counters, dimly lighting the fragrant room.
“I’m okay,” you whispered to James, your hand going to his jaw as he kissed you. His lips were soft against yours, parting just enough to catch your small gasp. You chased his mouth when he pulled away, only briefly satisfied as he planted another firm kiss to your lips. He stood to get you a towel, wrapping you up as you rose from the water.
“Let’s go to bed,” he urged, unable to hide his anxiety.
“You won’t sleep,” you accused, knowing he’d be up all night, just as he had for days.
“We can put on a movie. I just need to hold you,” his big eyes were framed by dark lashes, eyes that were impossible to say no to.
You slipped into one of his tee shirts before following him, letting yourself snuggle against his side, his arms tightly wrapping around your middle. The rhythm of his heartbeat and soft sounds of the television lulled you to sleep, resting safely in his embrace.
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where directors commentary
i forgor
***SPOILERS***
i went through a lot of drafts while writing this one cause i wasnt really sure what to do. originally there was just going to be one pairing per team and everyone else would be supporters, but then that didnt make sense and kind of stunted a few arcs i wanted to get through
kellaustin was always going to be the double elimination this episode, and i think the way they broke up was a self-critique on my part because im never quite sure what to do with either of them. having them part ways over their percieved perfection and lack of character felt natural. i like lyler, but i didnt want either of them to become lindsays or tylers, i want them to have more agency and exist outside of each other. not just as in "one gets eliminated", more like as their own people entirely.
i also wanted to avoid making them gidgette, which is lowkey kind of the most toxic td couple ever. like man even duncney was less manipulative and terrible than them and they should not have stayed together. kellaustin i think was just lacking substance and it felt right to set up a way both of them could shine in their own rights down the road, rather than drag them along as gimmick characters in tta
i also wanted to explore more of bonsar, because they exist in that space where im not sure whether i want them to be romantic or not, but calling them just friends feels very dismissive of the bond they have, and what ive written them to be.
plus, there are a LOT of duos in this season that are already purely platonic and will continue to be so. for example, i really have no romantic intents for scary, it just isnt in her character. and if it was, i could only really see it being with someone just as smart and capable as them. they're sort of filling the "mean and smart" role that ass, julia, and max can't occupy this season.
i also think they very nicely contrast joner's view of romance, since he's had a lot of trouble with it in the past. while scary is pretty outwardly anti-romance just because it's illogical to her, joner is just concerned that he's going to lose all of his important friendships to romance one way or another. he learns to be a little more accepting and supportive as we reach into the season.
and to address some of the theories floating around:
I don't think anyone has actually guessed who the winners are going to be yet. or the returnee, which is curious, cause I feel like it'd be obvious. wait no nvm there's been someone very passionately advocating for the return who I think will be pretty okay with how it's handled. most of you are wrong, though
wait also i wanna say THAT just about every single elimination order ive seen so far has been wrong. sorry. you guys are not prepared for the character arcs i have planned
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Ooo, okay, I’m a glutton for punishment - tell me about Vid Message for Kaidan, please.
I too am a glutton for punishment, so it doesn't come as a surprise that this is one of the older drafts I have for a part of the story I'm nowhere near starting 🙃 (Old enough that it's written in a different tense, and the google doc is a different background color lol)
Anyway, this initially started as a response to the absolutely terrible canon conversation on Horizon - because it's so out of character for Jay that I needed to figure out how the hell he would apologize for that. And that's where the two Horizon docs ended up spawning from!
So yeah, snippet under the cut. I plan on re-writing this to match whatever I end up deciding actually happens on Horizon, but here's part of the current draft that'll end up getting tweaked:
His omnitool pinged some twenty minutes later. Kaidan ignored it at first, even knowing that the list of possible contacts was significantly limited while on Horizon, then sighed, knowing that whoever had reached out must have something damn important to say. Blanket pulled down to reveal his wrist, he turned the lights on just enough to get his bearings.
Kaidan sat up and rubbed his eyes, his stubble scratching the palms of each hand as he worked the exhaustion out. If he can't sleep, he might as well work, right?
Pulling up the interface, he navigated to his messages more by muscle memory than sight, and opened the new message without checking the sender. He pressed play and waited.
Kaidan… Hi.
That snapped him to attention. Eyes properly open now, he looked down and saw Jay recording himself in what appeared to be his quarters.
Jay. A new message from Jay. That miserable kind of anger welled up inside Kaidan, and he moved to close the message when Jay continued.
I guess I'll start by apologizing.
He paused the message instead, struggling to process. After all that was said earlier today, he should have expected this. Though he supposed it had been a while since this was even a possibility…
Deep breaths, Alenko. Deep breaths. Give him a chance. It's a recording; you can stop it any time. He exhaled fully, looking back at the man on the screen. You're supposed to be dead, Jay…
Ignoring the way his hand shook, Kaidan pressed play again.
First, sorry I'm recording this drunk. It's… been a day, and while I needed to do this, I couldn't get a word out when I tried sober.
Jay shot back what looked like a finger of whiskey and poured himself another.
Second, sorry if it looks like I'm drinking too much. Metabolism is even worse since I was… rebuilt…
The last word came out with a vitriol Kaidan hadn't expected.
If you thought it was hard to get drunk with biotics, try adding whatever fucking cybernetics they fitted me with into the mix. Swear I have to practically hook an IV up to get properly wasted.
Another shot, another pour.
Third, the actual important apology here. Reason I'm doing this…
Jay sighed in a way that exuded utter defeat, and Kaidan honestly couldn't remember ever seeing him like this. The night before the mutiny came close: finding Shepard punching his locker and sinking to the floor.
But this… this was different.
And it was his fault.
Fuck, sorry, even drunk this is still hard to do. Heh, apology four before I've even done three…
Kaidan watched as Jay looked up from his glass and made eye contact, the bags under his eyes a deep bruise that must have been curated over the months he'd apparently been awake. The tears Kaidan saw mirrored his own now.
I'm sorry, Kaidan. For the way I handled… well, basically everything involving you since I came back. Today included. The way I spoke to you was… calculated? I'm not sure. I was trying so damn hard to just keep it together that I ended up throwing myself into that fake Commander demeanor I use sometimes, like I was speaking with a stranger… But I felt like the stranger today. There you were, somehow two months older, and two years older. I had to remind myself that you saw me differently now, even before Cerberus came up.
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hi! could i request some kashima headcanons? they can be something general (like the ones you previously did of rokuro, for example). thanks in advance!
((Of course !! And I'm very very sorry about the long wait!!!))
General Kashima Headcanons!
Kashima is a very on time and stubborn student. She often spends long hours finishing assignments, and can occasionally be found giving her time to clubs or to help her students study.
Though Yusei High is a smaller school, I think Kashima (along with Riku, Haito, and a few others), would probably join the debate team. Kashima gets flustered during her matches, but her straightforward nature makes her quite good at pressuring her opponents.
Kashima cuts not only her own hair, but the hair of her siblings. Eventually, after the ayakashi situation, she'd sit down and teach Mino how to cut her hair, probably with the help of Ia.
I think she'd come from a rather large family, of which she is the oldest sibling, which is why she takes so much responsibility.
Rokuro and her butt heads almost constantly, since they're so fundamentally different from each other, but she doesn't completely hate him, and he does have some Very Rare moments where he's tolerable to be around.
As Kashima likes to be early to things, she often runs into Yuki in the mornings, and occasionally will help her out with gardening. The two are fairly close, and Kashima often makes attempts to make Yuki stay awake in class, even if it is mostly futile.
Riku is another student that she's somewhat close with, and they often study together- occasionally helping out Mino as well. Since they're so similar, they normally get along very well, but sometimes get into petty disputes since they're both so stubborn.
I think for gender n sexuality, Kashima is a nonbinary lesbian that uses they/she and a bunch of neos <33 she just has those vibes.... Love her sm
#mod yuki#ayakashi akashi#kashima akebono#terribly sorry for the wait !! ive had some of this in drafts for a while but i forgot abohr it#thank you for the request though !!! 💖
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“It’s Jonas.”
It’s been almost six months but I did say I would talk about my experience, so here goes...
(It’s really long, I started this draft when Jonas was three months old)
I was told that I would be induced on March 10, a Wednesday. My due date was the 17th but baby had been measuring large for months so my doctor just wanted to go ahead with it. I agreed. We’d made it to 39 weeks and that was good. Plus, I felt huge and just...done with being pregnant.
I worked (from home) on the 10th. It felt sort of surreal, knowing that we’d be at the hospital at 5 pm that evening, but I knew I needed to work to keep my mind off what was coming. For a while, at least.
We’d started packing the hospital bags for weeks before. I’d left my suitcase open next to the bed and I’d throw things in there whenever I’d do laundry or think of something else I wanted to take. I sort of knew then that I was majorly overpacking (and in hindsight it’s laughable how much stuff I never wore/used) but at least we were prepared, right?
Yeah, about that...
Mister drove to the hospital. Since I was being induced, it wasn’t any frenetic, movie scene type, panicked dad experience. We just put our things in the car and drove there. On the way we talked about how strange it was, knowing that when we came home (God willing), there would be a baby in the car seat. Of course at that time we still didn’t know if our baby was a girl or boy.
(Mister told me later that he was almost certain baby was a boy. He said he’d heard too many nurses/medical personnel ‘slip’ while we were having ultrasounds and whatnot.)
People can choose to find out or not, but it puts a whole other dimension on the experience when you don’t know in advance. Just my two cents.
As we turned into the hospital parking lot, Mister told me to open the glove box. “There’s something for you in there,” he said. I opened it, trying to swallow the bowling ball that had lodged itself in my throat.
“Oh!” I said. “What I always wanted - an owner’s manual!”
When I’m nervous, I often joke.
There was a small white box next to the owner’s manual. In it was a necklace with an aquamarine pendant; one of the birthstones for March. Of course I cried.
We took an obligatory selfie before going inside the hospital. After getting checked in, we went to our room. I remember thinking that we’d only be in that room probably a day, and that 24 hours later, we’d be upstairs post delivery.
Ha. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!
I was given a drug to start labor (not pitocin). I’ve always hated needles and so getting an IV was not part of my top 100,000 Things I Love to Do List. Thankfully, the nurse who put it in was really good, so I barely felt anything.
The one major memory of this whole experience (other than Jonas, of course) was how good the nurses were. I am forever grateful to them.
Other than the IV and monitors, Mister having to sleep on the sofa, and me laying on a hospital bed, we could almost trick ourselves into imagining we were staying at some sort of hotel. Almost. For a few hours, anyway.
Wednesday night into Thursday morning was okay. I was feeling persistent pain. It wasn’t terrible, just uncomfortable, and I knew that it was part of the process. I didn’t sleep great but I was able to get some rest.
Around six o’clock there was a shift change, and my nurse for the day came in. Liz had a kind of cheerleader vibe about her, very positive, and in some other circumstances I might’ve found her annoying. But I liked her.
My doctor came in a little after seven and broke my water. That experience was...weird. I mean, it was a new experience for me, so it’s hard to describe. Uh, water is wet, so it was wet? Honestly, the thing I remember the most is that there was some meconium after Doc broke my water, which worried me a little. Baby was doing fine and no one seemed super worried, so I set it aside. I DID think it meant I was guaranteed to have the baby that day. How wrong I was, and not for the first time...
They gave me pitocin after my water was broken. So my contractions increased. It felt more like strong period cramps to me. I should say at this point that I have a high pain tolerance. I don’t know what the same level of contractions would feel like to someone else. Sometimes I was only mildly aware that I was having them.
Probably one of the most annoying things about my entire experience Wednesday/Thursday/into Friday was not being allowed to eat anything. I had ice chips, and water, and Liz managed to get me some Jello. This was actually something of an issue, because I had gestational diabetes, so at first nobody wanted to give me anything except for sugar-free Jello. I did have some of that, but as the day wore on and there wasn’t much progress, Liz talked to somebody and got me some regular Jello. I would’ve preferred something else, but Jello was what I was allowed, so Jello I got.
I...don’t really like Jello. Seriously, like if it’s the only thing, I’ll eat it, but...yeah.
The hours ticked by. Progress was slow. At first I looked forward to Liz and the other nurses coming in and checking me, but by late afternoon, it was clear that things were slooooooow. The best part of Thursday was sometime in the afternoon Liz suggested bouncing on the ball. I was really happy to get out of bed and bounce for a while. After doing that, I decided it was time for the epidural.
I’d decided beforehand I wanted an epidural. As I said, I absolutely hate needles, but I also didn’t want my body to be so stressed that labor couldn’t progress. In the back of my mind, I also thought that if the situation changed, and a c-section became necessary, the epidural would already be in place.
After the epidural was put in, I started shaking on the edge of the bed, tears rolling down my face. Liz was still holding on to me, and Mister was there, and they both asked what was wrong. I couldn’t speak for a minute. It felt a little like I was five years old, still terrified of that darn needle, and all the tension I’d suppressed had to get out somehow.
“It’s okay,” Liz said, giving me a hug. Sometimes that’s all that’s needed. I was sorry to see her go when her shift ended. She said she was working again on Saturday and that she’d stop by to see us after the baby was born, to see what we were having. (She did stop by.)
This was a constant refrain from most of the nurses: upon first coming into the room, and looking at the white board that had my information and seeing next to “Baby” was written “Surprise!!” we inevitably got the question, “You don’t know what you’re having? That’s awesome!”
Getting the epidural made the pain diminish, but it also made things more complicated for me because I couldn’t move. Overnight, a tag team of nurses turned me one way and the other, and checked me.
(I should also mention that all of the staff at the hospital had already been vaccinated, and they all wore masks into the rooms. We did not have to wear masks in the room, but if we went outside it, they were required.)
By Thursday night, both Mister and I were feeling rather discouraged. All day Thursday we’d been told that baby would come “by the afternoon”, then “by the evening”, and then late Thursday, “by Friday morning”. Bear in mind that I’d been on an IV/ induced since roughly six pm on Wednesday.
Maybe this sounds laughable to people who’ve had 72 hour long labors, but I’d been mentally prepared for around 24 hours of labor. My twin sister had been induced with her first, and her labor had gone about that long. Around midnight on Thursday I was feeling pretty discouraged. Mister wasn’t angry but he said (when we were alone) that he felt like the staff had been overly optimistic. I just don’t think either of us had thought about the implications of me being induced without any sign of active labor. In hindsight, I was glad it was done then, but...yeah. Not being mentally prepared for that long of a labor was hard. I felt bad for everyone who was waiting on updates; it felt like literally nothing happened for about thirty hours. Like I think was dilated to five by Friday morning. And effaced? Practically nothing. My cervix wasn’t getting thinner at all.
Early Friday morning, a new nurse started her shift. My first impressions of Diana were...well, I thought, “she’s definitely not as friendly as Liz.” She was more brusque. As I hadn’t slept much Thursday night, and having been in the same situation for over a day, I didn’t care nearly as much about making friends. By that point I was tired - physically, mentally, emotionally.
But Diana was awesome. She got me turned onto my hands and knees, and had me start doing some vigorous exercises, to really move labor along. I was fine with doing whatever she said because I was REALLY ready to be done. So it felt a little like my cross country days in high school, at the finish of a difficult race. I was tired, I wasn’t sure how much I could do physically, but we had a GOAL and dammit, we were going to do everything to get there!
By late morning, even after the exercises, I was still dilated at a five. Hardly effaced at all. After checking me again, Diana left the room. The option of a c-section had been discussed, especially since it was over 24 hours since my water had been broken.
“I think I’m done,” I said to Mister. Even though I’d never really been 100% ‘I want a natural birth experience’, it felt a little like giving up. I started crying again. “I just don’t think this [natural labor] is going to work. I’m done.”
“If you’re done, that’s it,” Mister said. “Tell Diana you want a c-section.”
I have to say something here about Mister. Even though he kept saying he didn’t know what he was doing or how he should support me, he was AWESOME. He supported every decision, and listened to me talk about the different options. For as hard as labor was for me, I think he had a different hard time. All he could do was literally sit there and watch me go through pain and doubt and fear, and comfort me as best he could. He was a great comfort.
(This is why even if thoughtful partners don’t think they’re doing a good job at supporting laboring moms, they most likely are. Their presence is invaluable. For anyone who doesn’t have a supportive partner with them, or an absent one, my profound condolences.)
When Diana came back in, I told her I wanted a c-section. This was around 11 o’clock Friday morning, March 12th. “I agree,” she said right away, patting me on the shoulder. “You’ve done everything you possibly can to get this baby delivered naturally. I trust mom’s instincts on this.”
Her support meant so much. Really, when a veteran nurse says they trust your instinct, how can you not feel better about your decision?
She left to contact my doctor and several other people, and Mister let people know what was going on. At that point I was more relieved that soon it would be over. I wanted to see our baby.
Mister said later that he learned that hospitals have two speeds: 1) we’re in no rush; and 2) something is going to happen NOW. While my c-section wasn’t an emergency, once the decision was made, things did happen fast. Diana brought the anesthesiologist into the room so he could numb me up. As I already had the epidural, this didn’t take very long. After a few minutes of letting the medication work, Bryce asked if I could feel my toes.
“No,” I said. It was weird. I knew I shouldn’t feel them, but I couldn’t help saying, “I’m trying to wiggle them!”
“No, no, it’s good you can’t feel them,” both Bryce and Mister said. I was wheeled out of the labor room a few minutes after that (I was not sorry to leave it) and taken to the OR. Mister went with someone else to take our stuff to the recovery room.
I’ve been in operating rooms before. They aren’t places that make me want to stay there. Bright lights, metal everywhere, many thoughts of what could go wrong...although I will say that all the staff in the OR made me feel confident. I was glad to see my doctor.
I felt better once I was in the OR (the only time in my life I’ve ever felt that way) but it felt like a long time until Mister arrived in there. He’d gone with a member of staff as they took all our stuff to a recovery room, then been taken to the OR. Once he was in place, everything started.
Doctor M had asked me before Mister arrived if he wanted to ‘announce’ was the baby was. I told her that he most likely would, but to ask him. She did, and he said yes, he’d love to do that.
There was a blue sheet in front of me so I really couldn’t see anything that went on - which was PERFECTLY FINE with me.
Obviously, I was flat on my back, and everything below my chest was numb. The doctor and others asked me at various times if I felt anything, and I didn’t (other than tugging and pulling). At one point, I suddenly smelled the unmistakable scent of something burning. “What is that? That burning smell?” I asked, glancing above me (really, behind me) at Bryce, who stood there.
“I’ll tell you later,” he said.
Which immediately told me I didn’t want to know what it was.
Yeah, it was me burning, while the medical staff cauterized me, keeping me from bleeding to death.
(The fact that cesarean sections are major surgery, and regularly happen every day in the United States, is, frankly, a miracle. Everyone hears about the horror stories when something goes wrong, but considering the number of women who go through them without incident, we as a society completely take them for granted.)
As the tugging and pulling continued, and Doctor M said things like, “there’s the head”, the sense of anticipation increased. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Both Mister and I knew any moment we would meet our baby, and after waiting 39 weeks (and eight years before that), it was almost unbearable.
Doctor M said, “Here’s the baby!”
I heard a slight cry, and I looked up at Mister, who sat on my right, holding my hand. He looked down at me and said, “It’s Jonas.”
Even thinking about that moment now brings tears to my eyes. In knowing Mister almost eleven years, I’ve only seen him cry maybe five times. Including this year, on March 12th. We both were bawling, and laughing at the same time, as Jonas VERY loudly screamed his disapproval at being evicted from his warm, cozy space. At one point, Mister, laughing as he cried said, “One of the ---s (our last name) needs to stop crying in here!”
He has a rather husky cry, Jonas does. I loved his cry from the moment I first heard it (though I don’t actually like to hear him cry, if that makes any sense).
As I was sewn up, Mister moved his chair over to where our baby was, under a heat lamp. Then he brought Jonas over to me. My first thought was, he’s HUGE. My second thought was, he was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.
He weighed nine pounds, five ounces at birth, and had a fifteen inch head circumference. After I heard that, I knew a natural birth was never going to happen. He was born on Friday the 12th of March, at 1:14 pm. The digital clock on the wall said 13:14, which I thought was cool. And it made it a bit easier to remember the time :)
He had lots of dark hair, which I loved. My sister’s had bald babies, so it was nice to have a different-looking kid. Over the last few months, his hair almost entirely disappeared due to cradle cap, and is coming back in...blond. Genetics!
I can say now that it’s past, that I was more afraid during pregnancy than I could admit to anyone, even Mister. I have always been a worrier, and finally being pregnant after so many years, and being high risk due to my age (and my shunt, and the gestational diabetes...) I was in almost constant worry of something going wrong. First of miscarriage (no one needed to tell me of the statistics regarding older mothers), then of stillbirth, like the cord getting wrapped around baby’s neck, and death happening before delivery could happen. I have heard of at least two different stories of that happening to pregnant women in the ninth month - friends of friends of mine - and the fear of that, or something else equally catastrophic happening was, at times, almost crippling. I would’ve preferred to have never been pregnant at all rather than suffer a miscarriage or stillbirth.
Perhaps it sounds childish, but mentally I didn’t think I was strong enough to have the dream of motherhood dashed, when every day of pregnancy brought that dream closer. I was (and still am) too much of a realist to ignore the statistics; I couldn’t pretend I was 22 and have a blissfully ignorant uneventful pregnancy. To this day, even after giving birth to a healthy baby, one of the biggest things that will set me off is the assumption that way too many people have. “We’re planning on getting pregnant soon.” “Just have kids, you’ll understand.” “I can take you out and make one just like you.” [a redneck phrase I’ve heard being said to a misbehaving child]
Not many of us can “plan” on getting pregnant exactly when we want to - or even within a year’s time. Not all of us can “just have kids” - they’re not like going to the store and getting a gallon of milk. (I recognize the privilege of living in a society where going to the store and expecting fresh milk can also sound arrogant to those who don’t live in one.) ‘Take out’ a kid (even said in jest), and ‘make another one’? I MIGHT have another child in the next couple years. More likely, I won’t. Not all of us can just get pregnant at the drop of a hat. (That’s assuming the one wanting to get pregnant even has a male partner or sperm donor at the ready...some never find that person to have a child with. And adoption can be a great thing, but not everyone is cut out for it. Shaming infertile and childless people for not wanting to adopt is disgusting.)
I was open with my OB-GYN about my fears during pregnancy and she referred me to several resources, and monitored me for PPD. My best friend’s son died in March 2020, a year before Jonas was born (though Billy had severe disabilities which made his death a certain thing), and my sister had had a stillborn son in August 2019 (my nephew Christian). So Jonas being born healthy was a huge relief for me. I can’t really describe the relief, except to say that as much physical weight I gained during pregnancy, letting go of the weight of the worry was felt even more deeply than losing the pounds since his birth (and I’ve haven’t lost all of that).
I will probably always worry about *something*, when it comes to Jonas. He gave me a scare earlier this week, rolling off the couch before I could catch him. He’s fine...and the incident scared me more than it scared him. But every day since he was born is a reminder of the gift he is, and I hope I never lose sight of that, even on the frustrating days (and there have been those over the last almost six months, and there will be more to come).
If you ever wanted children, and are fortunate enough to have them, cherish them. Be grateful for them, even when they drive you up the wall. Even when you only want three minutes’ peace, and they won’t give it to you. Love them anyway. I try to.
#this was heavier than i thought it would be#don't get me wrong#i had a good experience overall#nurses are awesome#nurses#hospital#birth#birthday#march 12#jonas#2021#life#real life#family#me and mister#mister#he's great#pregnancy#parenthood
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So I’ve been reading Temperature of the Heart, and you’ve mentioned how you have the whole thing written already. Can you describe what that’s like? What’s your writing process? How long does it take for you to write everything start to finish? Do you plan it all out or just kind of wing it? How long do you sit in an idea before you start?? Sorry about all the questions, I’m just so curious >_
bro!!! are you sure i will scream about writing for days omg
first of all THANK YOU its so freaking cool that you came to ask your questions and that you like my writing, im still sort of getting used to my writing not just being garbage that i read in the dark at 2am and never share with anybody, and i am always excited to answer questions waaaah
(THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG I APOLOGIZE IM PUTTING A READING BREAK IN CAUSE I WENT OFF BRO, IM THE WOOOOORST)
my process is pretty weird, it’s kind of all over the place? I’m kind of a halfway planner halfway pantser. I have an idea and usually make some disjointed notes about character and the main idea, in my phone or maybe on a google doc, and then a pinterest board maybe? Something to get excited about, a visualization. I ALWAYS tell myself im going to make an outline first and then i ALWAYS just jump right into writing because I’m too excited/impatient to wait. give me words on a page. give me dialogue.
Usually when I’m a little bit into the project, when i know that I’m not going to abandon it to the depths off where my WIPs go to die (rip like literally over 300 individual and unique works, this is NOT an exaggeration, you should see my document bank its gross) Ill say “ok fuck you sami its time to actually know where you’re going” and I’ll sit down and make the grossest outline you have EVER seen. like im talking, my outlines are littered with memes, me yelling at myself, actual stuff thats going to end up in the final project, and just general random garbage? its so gross. Ive literally only showed one of my outlines to one person ever (hi akira!) bc im super self conscious of them and hate the way that i write them. making an outline usually sucks up an entire day of writing. they’re pages and pages because some parts will be INCREDIBLY specific and other parts will be so vague you dont even know
From there, when im done with my garbage outline, (after going back through what I’ve written and fixing the shit that was just me going off like a psycho) I usually start writing in earnest. I’ll highlight the parts of the outline that I’ve done and I’ll go back and check it often to make sure im following through on my plans and the character arcs and such, making sure that everything ties in and such. This section is me like. every day getting home from work or whatever and sitting down at the computer and not moving until 2am, this is the section where i forget to eat and I dont sleep enough and i forget to drink water or take my vitamins and I do word sprints with myself and have days where I write 10 thousand words in one sitting. (very not healthy and also terrible i do NOT recommend) this is the section where I’ll handwrite anything i can in the back of classes and at rehearsals because im pouring out words.
during this section I go back and edit ENDLESSLY. i cannot write something and just let it be. I go back to the section I wrote the night before, I go back to the section I just wrote, i go back to the very beginning. I generally dont have to do 1st 2nd 3rd draft this way, but it is much more time consuming as Im just writing. i dont know if i reccommend this its a MESS
THeN once i finish writing the whole thing, i sit down and reread/edit the whole thing once through. this makes sure i have good flow, the paragraphs go together well, the prose feels right to me, timelines make sense. during this time i make ENDLESS paper notes with calendars, section notes, additions, drabbles, thoughts about my own shit. i have notebooks full of just garbage. im not kidding. full notebooks.
Once I finish that read/edit through I’m usually happy. only once something is completely finished will I consider posting. I go back too much, I add shit, I can’t let go of shit, not until it’s done. While I’m posting - I go through the chapter I’m going to post with a fine tooth comb, try to catch any tiny little mistake, add words here and there, but never change anything large if I can help it. Then i format it on Ao3 (this is literal hell, fuck the HTML editor it wants me to die) and then post it. Deciding to post a chapter to actually hitting ‘post’ usually takes me 1-4 hours, depending on the length, the difficulty of formatting, and how many goddamn links i wanna put in the chapter notes cause im the worst~ (insert jean ralphio voice)
~~~
LISTEN im probably super extra but I’ve been writing since I was in sixth grade (thats twelve years! time is an enigma and i hate it!) and so I have a bit of practice, i have a bit of experience and while I’m not the best me that I can be, I KNOW myself, and this is just what works best for me.
As for timing - it depends on the length of the project and how motivated I am. It took me about a month to write Royal (~50k), just a little over a month to write All Might’s All Night Shop Stop (~75k), and just about two months to write Temperature of the Heart (~115k). I try to post every few days, because as a person I hate waiting and I don’t want to do that to my readers!
~~~
As for the ‘how long do i sit on an idea before writing it’ it really depends. Some things I will receive inspiration or a sliver of an idea and start writing it in the next ten minutes, even if I have to stop working on something I’m already working on, because that was Brain Has Decided. Sometimes I will consider an idea for like. months before actually doing it. I’ve had the idea for FBoW (the newest thing im working on oops? have i told anybody about this NO cause that will make it REAL) since before I started Royal, which was like. Last november. But I just couldnt quite do it for some reason, and it wasn’t pressing. My brain is super broken, and a lot of times I get sick over ideas. I can’t sleep or eat until I’ve written, and I will repeat phrases to myself until i can get them out of my head by writing them down. (Sometimes this is something nice or poetic - “The golden hour lights up the whole world, wiggling its fingers into every nook and cranny, lighting up two people lounging on a bench-swing, someone leaned onto porch stairs with a mug of tea, the space between those walking down a dirt road, a couple of dogs laid out on the deck.” and other times its literally “Ranch Fiddlesticks.” I’m not kidding. i have a note in my phone that says ranch fiddlesticks because I was actually going to Die if i didnt write it down.)
I do wish my brain didn’t do this - but I guess it makes some fun art, doesn’t it?
WOW OKAY THIS WAS SO LONG im so sorry jesus christ. SOrry i will ALWAYS go off about my process and what it’s like to write. Writing is so so important to me, I LOVE it with every tiny atom of my weak, alcohol-infused, overworked heart. Despite how scary it is sometimes I am very glad to be sharing my work with the world, seeing peoples’ reactions and hearing things about my words, hearing how this little picture in my mind has gone into yours.
okay jfc im done now im so sorry. thank you again and again and again, a thousand times over, for reading my work and enjoying the worlds that i enjoy building. It makes me feel like I’m worth it. It makes me feel like I’m doing something good.
ily :’)
#my writing#dont open this unless you're ready#its like 1.5k words long#I WENT OFF#i have so many feelings ok#i have so so so many feelings#thank you so much for sending me an ask#i love you nonny#sami answers
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did you say close or closet?* steve harrington x reader
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okay this is my final prompt story of the five. i was waiting to edit it for a super long time but i finally did and am posting it. this was also written around season one so sorry if it's ooc now 🤷 like i said in the other prompt one shots these have been in my drafts for a super long time.
* - shes here. Trapped in a closet because your hiding from people at school and it gets super awkward super fast but things start to escalate ;)
prompts:
7. Everyone keeps telling me you're the bad guy
13. Looks like we're gonna be stuck here for a while
20. d..did you just make that noise?
Song: i dont need love by sammy hagar
tag list:@cynic-spirit
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I ran down the hallway, steve hot on my heels. We were running from some of the football players that we had played a terrible joke on. We turned a corner and before i knew it i was being pulled backwards into a hall closet. It was dark for a second before steve pulled the light chain, pouring the harsh light into the small space. We both just sighed before laughing quietly so they wouldnt find us.
"Looks like were gonna be stuck here for a while. Wouldnt want any of them to catch us and do terrible things to us."
He made a screwy face before smiling back down at me. I shook my head and leaned my body on the wall behind me, watching steve do the same. I sighed.
"You know, us being here a while could be a good thing, now i can get to know you a little better."
He looked at me in confusion.
"Why would you need to do that?"
"Everyone keeps telling me youre the bad guy, id like to make that decision for myself."
"Well i mean youve been hanging around me long enough dont you think? I mean you're not the nicest girl ive ever met."
I mocked hurt and placed my hand on my chest.
"Well then, i guess ill just have to try harder next time huh?"
we both stood there a second before laughing at my sarcasm.
"Seriously though, im not here looking for friends or acquaintances or boyfriends or anything like that. Im here to have a good time with whoever wants to join me. Which is why i was stoked to hear youd help me prank the football team."
"So what im hearing is you're just in it for the ride, not the destination."
I side nodded.
"Sometimes the stops on the ride are better than the destination, i dont need love or appreciation as long as im having a good time. Now im not necessarily easy either but if the moment arose and i was stopped long enough i might just consider some things."
He looked at me like he was reading my mind.
"We're stopped now. "
He raised a brow at me.
"You think your ready for this harrington? I heard you like vanilla girls like nancy drew."
"Its nancy wheeler actually and she'd never do anything like the stuff we did today, even with a little male persuasion."
I laughed at him, male persuasion my ass, that girl would be too scared to get her panties wet if the moment arose much less sleep with anyone she thought was interesting.
"Ill make a deal with you harrington. We can do this right now if you can promise me that nothing comes out of your mouth about me after this. And i know thats a long shot but im not here to make people mad. Like i said, im here for the fun along the way, im not here to ruin other peoples fun."
He reached his hand out for me to shake.
"Deal. now how do you wanna go about doing this, ya know since we are in a pretty small closet."
I shrugged.
"Ive done it in smaller."
I started by sliding off my jacket and throwing my shirt off. He just stood and watched before i pulled him to me and started kissing up and down his neck.
"You gonna work with me or not harrington?"
He nodded frantically before removing his jacket and shirt as well. We quickly got back to each other, but actually kissing this time. He pushed me up against the wall, lifting me, allowing me to wrap my legs around him. As he attacked my neck i let out a soft moan, reaching down to rub him through his pants. I was quick to undo his pants, along with mine so we could get to business. We kissed as he removed my panties and gripped my thighs to line himself up with my entrance. I ground my hips down onto him and he let out a needy, whiny, moan. We both paused for a second.
"D...did you make that noise?"
He let out a small laugh and i could see the blush on his face.
"I guess its been a hot minute."
I kissed him softly and nodded at him.
"Perfectly normal."
He nodded back and kissed me a little more needy. He broke away to look down for a second and entered me, earning a moan. I slid my head back against the wall and he attacked my neck again, sliding in and out of me at a steady pace. I held onto him for dear life, resting against the wall with my legs wrapped around his exposed torso. He rammed into me over and over again, earning soft moans that i was trying the stifle so no one would hear us. I could tell he was getting closer though, his breathing was becoming less steady and so were his thrusts. I reached down and rubbed my clit, sending me down the right path to cuming with him. He rested his head against my shoulder, kissing and biting it, trying to keep his noises to himself; or at least just to us. I could feel him trying to hold on for dear life but he quickly pulled out of me, unhooked my legs, and stumbled back against the opposing wall, stroking himself and cuming down his hand. He let out a loud sigh before looking back at me, walking over to me and kissing me again.
"I dont believe i heard you finish."
He wiped his hand off with the paper towels sitting on the overhead shelf before lifting me back up against the wall. I was shaken a little bit but he kept perfect eye contact with me as his other hand got closer and closer to my core. He rubbed my clit, which sent my head back against the wall, before fingering me, pushing in and out of me over and over again. I gripped his shoulder tightly, wrapping my legs tighter around him as i came around his fingers. My legs were shaky as he set me back down and licked his fingers off.
"See i dont like just vanilla girls."
I smirked at him before pulling my panties back on.
"That was probably as much outside of vanilla as youd ever try to get harrington."
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Session Recap 10/12/19: Prima Materia
In the morning, the party found they had several messages waiting for them from the Gatekeepers.
Erwyn’s, from Palava, read:
dear erwyn,
we interacted with the raliv mercantile co when we were in veritas. one of a number of individuals promising aid to the city in exchange for increased political clout. spokesperson for the company was huxley emberbraid montfort, a noble from mardros. cant say i liked him much, but i find it hard to like anyone who sees a tragedy as a way to make themselves richer and more powerful. ive heard vilars name but dont know much about her. we were certainly not aware of any infernal ties or we would have warned you and done our best to warn the city as well exclamation point. what information do you have about this cult and its potential ties to veritas question mark. weve all been stretched so thin that we havent been able to do much in the way of preventative investigation im sorry to say. its hard enough to keep up with the active breaches. find out what you can, but do be careful. demons and devils are always out for each others blood, and they wont be picky about who gets caught in the crossfire.
also, violetta should have mentioned it in her message to voski, but one of our friends has been detecting some increased planar distortions around veritas. it looks like someones trying very hard to start another breach. if we figure out where they are, we should still be able to nip it in the bud, but we think theyve mounted some magical defenses to make it more difficult to pinpoint. keep us informed and watch out for yourself,
alembic and palava
Ditto had a message waiting for her as well, from Hubris, that elaborated on her research question from before.
ditto, quick research update.
ive found very little but im going to keep digging exclamation point. everything pre fourth era is pretty spotty of course unless you want to go bothering ozogot the black. plenty of references to the devotion of the citizens of veritas but nearly nothing about what they were devoted to.
one interesting thing is the account of the gnomish historian gibberty booklore chatterjack penner squirrelchase yapp gallbug townkeeper talltale tallyho prickingbone, whose books were blessed to remain indelible in the face of magic that distorts memories and history. she mentions going to a high temple on her visit to the city and remarks on the devotion of the humans who live there when she visited during the reign of king ulfgar the stern beneath the mountains. when she returned some years later after the third skeleton war, which saw the temporary takeover of the city by the lichlord saerevon, she instead discusses how strange it is that no deity seems able to maintain a strong presence in veritas, and that none has done so as long as anyone remembers. it could be an issue of incorrect or fragmentory histories surviving, but i would focus investigations on the transitional period between the fourth and fifth eras.
other accounts from the same period suggest that by then worship had transferred to the divine messenger whose image persists to this day, and that the deity themselves was kept secret if not already forgotten. if she was worshiped as a mystery cult theyve done a very good job of covering their records. if her name had already been lost, gibbertys texts suggest that theres something fishy going on. seems that veritas has always been a city of mysteries exclamation point. will keep searching semicolon its time to get into some of the fringe theorists which should be quite a ride.
cheers, hubris
Finally, Voski also had a message waiting, from Violetta, reading:
kasia, re: karin mordechai
karin mordechai unknown. could be alias or figurehead. provide names and descriptions of associates and i will cross reference them with known entities. note readings indicate increased instability in veritas. spike on night of blomhath twentieth. attempt to identify source and neutralize if possible. can provide backup for strike but not extended investigation.
In preparation for their next plans, Ditto asked Tiktik if they would be alright doing some spying for the group and if she could turn them into a beetle. They told her she would have to bribe them, but they were willing, and she promised them chicken in exchange for their service before transforming them into a small insect.
The party decided that in order to keep the demons watching them from realizing where they had taken Tenny, they would turn Amaranth invisible, then give her the demiplane (with Tenny inside) to take into Grankhul’s Rest to drop the girl off and explain the situation. Once Ditto had cast Invisibility on her, they headed out and started making their way towards the inn -- followed by a large row of demonic pigeons who were keeping pace with them as they went. With the rest of the party keeping them distracted, though, Amaranth was able to break away from the rest of the group and sneak inside the inn.
Inside, she saw Selfish Dann reading a book by the fireplace and decided she’d prefer to have this conversation with the tiefling of the inn’s group. She spoke up once she was nearby, startling him. She explained she was invisible, but that she’d like to talk somewhere private, and he suggested they go to the basement. Once there, Amaranth explained that the party had someone that needed looking after, and they thought the inn’s caretakers would be the best equipped of anyone they could ask to deal with the kind of danger she was in. When Dann asked for details, she explained some of Tenny’s situation, and he agreed they could take care of her.
Amaranth opened the demiplane to see an eclectic arrangement of decor that Tenny had come up with while getting transported. She complimented the girl’s taste and Tenny told her not to let the others make the place boring, if they could make whatever they wanted. Amaranth then led her out to meet Selfish Dann, who promised Amaranth that they would take good care of her.
After leaving Grankhul’s Rest, Amaranth caught up with the rest of the party. Still invisible, she jumped up behind Kriv and tried to startle him, causing the dragonborn to reflexively elbow her and Erwyn, despite the distance, to startle and slightly jump. Once she had reappeared, the group started to make their way to a place near the exclusion zone, so that Ditto could send Tiktik to fly overhead and see what they could beyond the walls. On their way up she took the chance to gaze through their eyes and got a view of a goopy, black, stagnant lake with things moving below the surface. A group of workers, watched over by burnished metal constructs, were trying to skim algae from the water’s surface. Eventually, Tiktik reported back that they had reached a point above the exclusion zone that had kept them from going forward -- like a painful magical force that repelled them away from it.
Moving to their next location, the party passed the Blacks’ smithing shop. It had clearly taken damage from the recent attack of bones, but from the sounds inside it seemed to still be operating. They then arrived near enough the workhouse that they could try sending Tiktik inside, though once they had gone in the party kept walking a little so as not to be too near its vicinity. They decided the elephant statue was a good place to casually hang around and parked there for a bit. Kriv pulled out a sketchbook to do a little drawing of it while they waited.
Eventually Tiktik returned, speaking quickly to Ditto about everything they’d just seen. Apparently once they passed the room with the nervous-looking clerk some of the party members had met before, they’d found themselves in a nice office, where a halfling woman was talking to a fire genasi man, the latter fiddling around with some kind of weird fork. After that they had picked up on a weird draft coming from a bookcase that, when they investigated further, had a door behind it, leading to a room with some kind of magic circle on the floor. They then backtracked through the last couple of rooms to make their way to the cell block, which had a door at the end that was being guarded by a large construct that lead to a row of higher-security cells, with thicker walls and more constructs milling about.
With one more destination for Tiktik to snoop around in mind, the party next headed towards the mayor’s house. Tiktik went through the gates while the rest of them kept their distance and waited for them to return. After quite a lot of waiting, though, it became clear that something must have happened, as the familiar never returned. When Ditto tried to summon them back to her, nothing happened. So the group took a detour at Knife’s shop, which wasn’t too far away, where Ditto asked her friend if she could cast the spell to bring them back. Knife let her use his upstairs room to do the summoning.
Ditto brought Tiktik back in cat form and they bounded into her as soon as they’d been summoned. They explained that there had been a wyvern inside the stables behind the Mayor’s house, and it had chomped them before they could get away. The two of them headed downstairs to return to the others and Ditto thanked Knife for the use of his quarters. He assured her they were open to her anytime.
The party’s next order of business was to find a new place to stay for the night. Hoping to follow up on Nilo’s other recommendation, they went to The Pig’s Eye in order to ask Frileg where the Thirsty Sage was, as it didn’t seem to be along Keeper’s Row with all the other inns. She said she knew where it usually was, but warned them to be careful, as it seemed to pop in and out of existence unpredictably. Apparently the place was an old wizard’s tower, now run as an inn by an eccentric goblin, and sometimes people would go in for a night and turn up weeks later terribly confused. She attributed Nilo’s success with the place to his halfling luck.
They followed Frileg’s directions and found that the Thirsty Sage was in fact there for the moment. The building itself had a chimney with multicolored smoke billowing out of it and a heavy metal door which, when they knocked on it, was flung open enthusiastically by a manic-looking one-eyed goblin in a blue robe covered in golden stars and matching hat. The goblin ushered them in and did their best to give a tour, pointing out some of the strange magic paraphernalia decorating the place, but it was deeply clear they had very little idea what they were talking about. The group talked with them for a bit about accommodations, but were still hesitant about the idea. Erwyn and Amaranth in particular voiced concerns about what would happen if they weren’t so lucky in the time department, and in the end, they decided it was too risky and bid the goblin proprietor farewell. In parting, they told the group their name was the Acrimonious Bimbimble.
No extra time had passed when the party emerged, fortunately. They returned to the Pig’s Eye and Ditto asked Frileg if she had any other ideas about places in the city that might be safe to stay. As Ditto rambled, the dwarven woman gave her a glass of ale -- which she largely ignored and Amaranth finished -- but unfortunately her only ideas we either the Slumbering Grell or some boardinghouses she knew were receptive to people on the run from certain things.
The group quietly decided they would just need to find an alleyway or other place to lay low for the night. Amaranth started noting the beggar’s marks she saw on some of the abandoned storefronts in the city, looking for one pointing to a likely spot. There were more empty buildings than usual in the wake of the disaster, with some of the citizens of Veritas having decided to cut their losses and flee, so she soon found a good candidate in a building accessed by an alleyway, with a secure basement behind a shuttered door. On seeing it wasn’t clearly occupied, the party decided it would be where they retreated that evening -- and indeed, decided they would lie low there for a little before meeting with Tress that evening. Tiktik wove their way around the party members as they did, as if to seek attention for having done dangerous things for them all earlier.
As the hour of Candling arrived, the party made their way to Inner Truths for their appointment with Tress. She was waiting for them, petting Palette’s filigreed exterior. She greeted them, saying that the project had been much more interesting than she’d been expecting, and that she thought they might want to discuss things privately. Somewhat suspiciously, Kriv tried a quick Divine Sense, but felt nothing unusual. Her enthusiasm was more familiar, however, to Voski.
Tress lead them to her back room and shut the door. Inside, a table had been laid out with supplies and tools for an experiment: the leaf Erwyn had given her, several different vials, a basin with assorted arcane sigils carved in the top, a houseplant, and another glass vial containing a few flies. She explained that she’d been able to identify a partial transfiguration effect turning parts of the leaf to graphite. She snapped it in half to demonstrate these properties, revealing that it was only the outer shell that had calcified, while the inner layer still consisted of dying plant matter.
She went on to say that that the tincture they’d given her was primarily water with a little alcohol in it, and had the remains of a very low-level light spell on it -- a common practice by snake-oil salesmen to make their product appear magical when it really wasn’t. She then held out a glass vial with the remains of some particulate in it, which was left over once she’d distilled the tincture down, and added that she had absolutely no idea what it was.
Tress said that she’d been testing the properties of the material, using an alchemist’s vessel to multiply the quantity to perform experiments. She said she was going to perform a demonstration of this process, but that the magic would only be in effect for a short time, and asked them to save their “questions, comments, and shocked gasps” until the end.
She scooped some of the particulate onto a small bone tool, added it to the vessel with the sigils, then poured in some water and swirled it around. Taking a leaf from the healthy plant, she dipped it into this compound, where it immediately turned to graphite. She dropped this leaf on the floor and it shattered instantly. Next, she took a dead fly from the bottom of the insect vial and dipped it into the basin as well. There was no effect. She extracted another fly, this one live. When the live fly was dipped into the compound, it instantly turned to graphite the way the leaf had. She then took a leaf from a different vial, where it had been soaking in the remnants of the tincture, and dipped it. This one hardened and turned to graphite as well, but when she dropped it, it didn’t shatter the way the first leaf had.
Finally, Tress took a small knife. “I did already bleed for this, if there is another volunteer,” she said meaningfully.
Erwyn offered his hand and she pricked it. When his blood mixed with the tincture, it turned to the same graphite substance as the leaf and the living fly had. She looked a bit surprised at this, then turned to Voski.
“Kasia,” she asked. “Are they going to be weird about it?”
Voski reassured Tress her companions could exercise discretion. Tress proceeded to prick her own finger with the knife. A drop of her blood welled up, dark blue-black, and when it hit the mixture in the basin, it didn’t turn to graphite like Erwyn’s had. Instead, it turned to gold.
The tincture mixture seemed to evaporate from the vessel as the magic effect amplifying it ran out. Tress commented that the demonstration hadn’t been exactly what she was expecting, but she should have assumed there might be more variables.
With questions now open, the party asked her opinion on what might have been in the vials, mentioning the people peddling the tinctures claimed they had ingredients sourced from the elemental planes. She said it was hard to verify that for certain, though the water certainly wasn’t plane-touched, and added that whatever was causing the transformation was highly diluted in the tinctures themselves. She also pointed out that, as had been clear from her demonstration with the leaves, immediate, quick exposure caused the transformation to be more brittle, whereas the prolonged dosage seemed to result in a more stable, gradual process.
The group began to discuss possible motivations behind the revelation. It was obvious that the tinctures wouldn’t persist as a fad if they had such visible negative effects, so diluting the effect ensured a wider exposure for whatever purpose the sellers had in mind. Erwyn pointed out that with everything else going on in Veritas, there were certainly other things people might blame ill effects on, like the background energy from the Abyss all over the city. Ditto also brought up that it was already well-known people were mysteriously going missing, so it was possible some of the worst effects were being hidden. Tress added that at the dosage people seemed to be taking of the tinctures, it would likely take several weeks or even a month or two for them to notice any reaction. She noted, though, that she hadn’t been able to perform any longitudinal studies, and it was always possible that at a certain point the effects could speed up.
Ditto, unable to contain herself, finally burst out asking Tress what her deal was, since her blood had reacted so differently. Tress sighed and replied that she was an air genasi -- underscored by the fact that, where she had cut her finger, there was now smeared makeup revealing blue-tinted skin -- and asked the party not to make a big deal about it. She said that while her blood’s reaction to the tincture was interesting, she couldn’t imagine there were enough other genasi in the city to make it worth their while. Erwyn wondered if it might be a quality of plane-touched individuals in general, and Kriv asked if she would be willing to do the experiment again, looking at Amaranth as he spoke. Tress said she would need another tincture, but was willing, and would be working late that evening if they were able to get one by then.
The party departed for the Pig’s Eye after that. When they got there, Nilo had not yet arrived. Sparrow was there, however, and came over to Amaranth, offering to buy her a drink. Ditto gave Amaranth a surreptitious thumbs-up while Kriv, teasingly, stuck his tongue out instead.
The drow demon who had been frequenting the place arrived soon after, looking somewhat less nervous than she usually did. She took a seat in the corner and beckoned Voski over. At this, Voski ordered the drink with Underdark fruit syrup the demon had recommended to her the night before, then took it and sat down with her to talk.
The yochlol told Voski that she had talked with her Lady and was more comfortable speaking openly now that Voski wasn’t such a stranger. She also said that the Lady had something to ask of Voski, as repayment for granting her blessing -- commenting that it seemed she was having some trouble protecting her “investment” as she glanced over at Erwyn.
She said she and some of her companions had been transporting an item to a city in the Underdark, but had been caught in Veritas when the current situation erupted. She and her companions (several drow, who she feared had perished) were taking a detour through the markets when the portal opened, and the artifact had been lost or stolen in the chaos. She had since been unable to reclaim it or find anyone to assist her in doing so, as it was lost in the exclusion zone and everyone she’d attempted to hire had proven unreliable.
Voski asked if, since they had been caught so off guard, this meant the Lady hadn’t had a hand in the events in Veritas. The yochlol explained that this breach didn’t seem to have been planned by any known power in the Abyss, and whatever had broken through had kept to itself enough that the other demons weren’t certain which layer had even caused it. She also admitted, when pressed, that she too was trapped inside the city by the barrier that was keeping the other demons in. Lolth had other ways of extracting her, but she couldn’t return empty-handed.
Finally Voski asked about the artifact. The yochlol said she was looking for a magical harp, finely constructed and very important to Lolth, as it was used in several rituals down in the Underdark. While it was missing, she could tell it wasn’t destroyed, thanks to her connection to Lolth.
After explaining that she was hoping Voski could retrieve it, she offered her a silver brooch in the shape of a spider, set with purple and blood-red stones, which she said would signify to other demons that Lolth had a vested interest in her and, perhaps, encourage them to leave her alone. She commented that Lolth found her amusing, and would prefer if she didn’t die. Voski accepted the brooch and tucked it away into her armor, though she added that she didn’t subcontract and would not enlist any of the others to search on Lolth’s behalf. But, since they were headed into the exclusion zone soon enough, she would try to take a look around while she was there.
As she rose to leave, Voski realized they’d never properly introduced themselves to each other and asked the yochlol if there was any name she wanted Voski to call her by. The demon shrugged and said she didn’t see the point. Voski nodded, then invited her to tell her Lady that Voski intended to survive, with or without her help. Then she added that the drink the yochlol had recommended was surprisingly good.
“Right?” the demon said.
Voski returned to the others, who were enjoying the music of the one-armed bard, Meg, who had played there the night before. Erwyn was sipping from another glass of milk, conjured earmuffs from Ditto present yet again, and Amaranth continued chatting with Sparrow until Nilo and Clarity finally showed up. When the pair finally entered the tavern, Nilo was clad in his “work clothes” -- a combination of dark roguish attire and dozens upon dozens of different good luck charms, ranging from onions to holy symbols rubbed with lamp-black so they were less obvious -- and somehow still moving silently. He was clearly ready for crimes.
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Hopefully tumblr doesnt eat this p.1 again! Its been so long since Ive dropped by and said hello to one of my favorite people so hello Coon! I feel like Ive been so busy I dont have time to drop bye and say hello these days How are you? Are you doing well? I hope you are bc you deserve so much happiness. I also wanted to do a status update on the fact that Im now writing again! I took a longer break than I thought I would but hey Im now more motivated than ever so I guess it all worked out ^^
I AM
A HORRIBLE, ULTIMATELY TERRIBLE RACCOON.
JAZ.
IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE YOU LAST DROPPED THIS IN MY INBOX AND I’M JUST REPLYING NOW.
AND YOU WANNA KNOW WHY? IT’S NOT EVEN THAT I DIDN’T HAVE TIME.
I JUST. I PUT THIS IN MY DRAFTS SO THAT THE SECOND ASK, THE BIT IN THE IMAGE, WOULD BE SAFE EVEN IF DELETED FROM THE COMPUTER (LIKE IT HAPPENED TO MY OTHER ASKS)
AND SINCE THEN I DIDN’T BOTHER GOING TO MY DRAFTS.
AND I FORGOT THIS WAS HERE.
JAZ.
JAZ OMG
JAZ PLEASE HIT ME WITH A NEWSPAPER I’M A HORRIBLE CREATURE HOW IN THE W O R L D COULD I FORGET TO REPLY TO YOU!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
*PUNCHES THROUGH THE WALL*
*SHRIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKK*
*EXPLODES*
ALKSJDALKFJGADLKGJAGLKAGJAD
Okay you let me add a keep reading right here aaah ;A;
Oh my god, Jaz….Jaz I’m so sorry, I don’t even know where to start apologizing, I’m so sorry. I honestly forgot and that’s the worst part. If I had been busy for real I would have had an excuse at least, but the truth was just that; I put this in my drafts and then forgot it was there. I rarely check my drafts because that’s where I put stuff that I want to reblog at some point but don’t know when because it’s not FFXV related so I just wait until I’m done with the XV reblogs but I never am, and I just assumed everything in drafts was stuff to reblog, I totally forgot there was an ask here that I hadn’t replied to and that it was yours, I’m so sorry, so, so, so sorry, Jaz… :(
I don’t offer an excuse and if you’re upset you have all the rights to be, I understand. Jesus, it’s been a while since Ir eplied this and I mean, there are asks in my inbox that are like a year old but those are prompts or requests and it’s fine, but yours was a personal and it’s been so long for me to answer to it aklsdjalkgjadklgja omg Jaz I’m so sorry….
I’m sorry, Jaz, very sincerely. Zomg…I’m sorry OTL
Well. Still answering ahah ;w;
HEWWO JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Akjdlsafdgalkfjaklhj hhhnnnngnggg. HEWWO JAZ!!! ;w; I’m sorry OTL
Don’t worry about being busy. Real life is already super busy as it is and then we get here and it can get sort of ‘busy’ in its own non-serious way too! I hope that whatever’s been keeping you /kept you busy has given you a break from time to time and that it’s something you enjoy.
I’m doing well! A little ‘busy’ in the non-serious way trying to nail down all my PMs and asks (I’ve lately had a quite excited anon flooding me ahahahah! It’s lovely but keeps me super busy because each I answer gets drowned by another incoming 5 ;w;) and the reblogs and the fics. I’m having funa nd take my breaks to make it enjoyable and not turn it into something I dislike, but hence it goes slower. And out of Tumblr I’m doing okay too!
How have you been, dear Jaz? Besides WAITING FOR MY ASK OTLHave yuo been alright? And happy? I wonder what else you’ve been up to since you last wrote to me!! Hoping sincerely that it’s been okay with you too because you too deserve SO MUCH HAPPINES LIKE LOADS OF IT!!!!!!! You’re such a nice and good person that does no harm to others, you deserve all em happy things and events. U HAVE ALL IT GOOD KARMA, MY FRIEND!!!
GASPS
YOU’VE BEEN WRITING AGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JAZ, THAT’S PHENOMENAL! THAT’S ABOSLUTELY WONDERFUL, AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL NEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, JAZ, I’M SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SOOOOOOOOOOO HAPPY FOR YOU AND ABOUT IT, I’M SO HAPPY AND SO PROUD TO KNOW THAT YOU’VE TAKEN UP ON SOMETHING SO BEAUTIFUL LIKE WRITING, AND MORE THAN TAKING UP, RETAKING BECAUSE IT MEANS YOU USED TO ENJOY IT, LEFT IT FOR SOME REASON, AND YOU RETOOK IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ
*SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM*
*EXPLODES*
Jaz, that’s WONDERFUL NEWS!!!! Omg buddy that’s fantastic, you have no idea how happy it makes me when someone says they’ve taken up/retaking a form of art. It’s so beautiful and so exciting, and you’re a friend so that adds a lot to the hype!! Jaz, that’s AMAZING! CONGRATS, BUDDY, I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!!! ( ˙꒳˙ )
It’s okay that you took a longer break than you had first expected. Be it because you were busy or just lacking the motivation, it’s okay! What matters is that you went back to it and you must have felt so refreshed and welcomed back. The warmest welcoming is the one given after a long wait (but thankfully it wasn’t THAT long either!!). Plus, you took all the time that you needed to get back to it so it means you’re not forcing a single bit of it and that’s PHENOMENAL!!
I’m so happy to know that you’re motivated now, Jaz, all of this is honestly SO GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY :’3 AKLSJDLAKDGJADLKGJAGLKAJGA AAAAAAAHHHHHH, I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!!
I guess the first time you sent the first part you were telling me what you were writing, so I don’t know for sure what you meant with hoping that one day I can read ‘it’, but I’d love to! I’m very slow at reading things because of the massive updates I do to my fics, but I think that I’d love to. Is it XV related? Original content? I’d get lost if it’s from something that I don’t know, but I can still try if you want me to
Aaah, thank you for asking about the laptop! Lamentably I’m nowhere close to getting a new one. They’re pretty expensive. I’m fine with one of the cheapest because all I want is basic internet access and MS Word lmao, but they’re still quite a price number and I have no job >
I thought about using the money that I’ve saved up from my kofis, but…to be honest, I’m being consciously selfish there, because I don’t want to waste my kofi money in ¼ of the price of the laptop… ;n; I want the kofi money to be mine for games or books, it’s money I’ve earned from doing what I love and I wanted it to go to selfish things, but I’m still debating with myself as to maybe having to put it for the laptop ahaha ;w;
Again, don’t feel bad for being busy!! Real life stuff is more important, and Tumblr isn’t going anywhere (not without a long time warning that we’ve never had, thankfully!), so don’t you stress. I for sure am going nowhere, so you take the time that you need and want :3
And don’t say you’re ‘not keeping me for longer’, because it’s not like you’re taking my time by force, dear Jaz!! You texting to me is a kind gift to me so you’re not taking any time off me, you’re taking YOUR time!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, JAZ, I’VE MISSED YOU TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
*sQUEEZES U*
Sweet precious wonderful dear Jaz, thank you soooooooooooooooo LIKE SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SO SO SO SOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH FOR DROPPING BY TO SAY HELLO AND SHARE ALL OF THIS WITH ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, I don’t even know where to start, I’m sorry for taking so long, and thank you immensely for dropping by, my friend!! ;A;
Thank you for the time you dedicated to writing to me and the one to read me. It sounds like you’ve been very busy and I really appreciate that you’ve taken some time to write to me, you have no idea :’(
Thank you for updating me on what you’ve been up to, and thank you for sharing with me that you’ve retaken your writing!! Those news made me so happy, and re reading still makes me feel shivers out of the joy askldjfdaklgjaklgjadglkj
Thank you for being as kind and as gentle as you always are with me. You’re so precious and I hope you know that. You’re always so nice and patient and so good with me, I don’t know how to express it enough or how to let you know or how to thank you properly :’3 Thank you so much for being the sweet and warm creature that you are, Jaz. You’re truly phenomenal and I’m very happy that you exist. The world can very easily wear me out, and it’s creatures like you that relieve it off my shoulders. Thank you
I’ve missed you SO MUCH TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Every time I re fave both your artworks I think about you and I was wondering what you were doing and if you were okay. And there I was, forgetting that it was me who never replied... :’D Really, seriously, I’m so sorry, Jaz, I didn’t mean to take this long... OTL
I hope that you’ve been okay, Jaz! Have you been okay and doing better? How’s the writing going? I’m eager to hear about you again, buddy!! :3
I WUV U TOO, JAAAAAAAAAAZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ALKSDJAKLGDJDAKLGJDAGLKDAJ AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH, LOTS OF HUGS FOR MAH BUDDY JAZ!! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ
Dear Jaz, I hope you’re having a FANTASTIC weekend, and do receive lots of raccoonie hugs and sparkles!! HUGZ
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two ghosts in Morioh
another day of running around taking care of businesses with my mom. Got some down time in the afternoon and spent it on this. yes Im a fluff writer now. somebody take me out the back
warning for non-plot, terrible poetry (Im serious. Ive never written a poem in english before. its not too nice to the hand), a filler OC thrown in on the spot, lotsa outta-nowhere headcanons, and all else possibly applicable.
Read on AO3
Okuyasu finally picked up.
Which was a good thing, because Josuke didn't wanna seem fussy or overbearing. 'twas a lost cause anyway, his mom would tell him, given that he had been anxious ever since he came home from the supposed double date that afternoon, and had walked from one end of the hall to the other over forty time (yes, she counted up until forty), mumbling to himself, hands firmly in his pants' pockets because he knew the moment he stopped holding it tight he would ruin his pomp by running his hand through his hair in frustration. An emotion that he caused to himself, his mom would remind him, because he refused to just walk over to Okuyasu's house and knock.
When the boy in question finally picked up, Josuke was a bit stiff from the draft in the hallway as well as from the tension built up by being stubborn. Okuyasu's voice only just managed to break through.
“Josuke?”
He sounded a bit hoarse. “Yeah, dude, I'm here,” Josuke said. The tension didn't leave him immediately like he hoped. “You didn't come.”
“Fuck, sorry about that. I'm jus'... 'm not in the best mood right now. Didn't wanna ruin it for you guys.”
“Shit, what happened? You okay?” Josuke could hear something fell on the floor with a metallic clunk. “What's that?”
“Oh it's-- 's the paint can. I'm fixin' up big bro's room upstairs. Been meaning to for a while now so... It's.” Okuyasu trailed off.
Josuke felt his shoulders stiffen up a bit more.
“It's some'n to do.”
Josuke bit his lip. After a moment of consciously picking off all traces of anxiety from his manners, he said, calmly, “I'm gonna come over.”
“No, dude, y'don't have to!” Okuyasu immediately barked, with something like panic in his tone. “I'm a bummer right now,” he added, almost sheepishly. “It's dumb, it'll go away on its own. Jus' some'n from the class.”
“Don't even think of it as me coming over to comfort you if that's better.” Josuke had to actively try to stay nonchalant now. “I'm helping with the room fixin'. It's gonna take the rest of the night with just you. That cool?”
He just caught his free hand moving towards his head on its own when Okuyasu sighed and he could hear the paint can being picked up. “Fine. I'm gonna be upstairs, let yaself in when you're over.”
By August 1999, Okuyasu had been sleeping in the guest room downstairs for ten months.
Keicho was a private person, and nobody could blame him at that. No kid would want to leave their toys trailing about when their father was so quick to anger. Keicho had faced so much of that misdirected rage, had put himself between his father and his younger brother so many times, that anything he had that wasn't broken he held on with an almost death grip. His routines, his CD collection, his rules, his own anger. He never learned to let go, and Okuyasu, whom Morioh had given more chances than it ever did his brother, had been feeling something like pity for that, and then guilty for pitying his brother.
He didn't really want to use Keicho's room again, especially when he never got his brother's permission. When Keicho had left balancing the book in Okuyasu's hand, their life became a clash between Okuyasu's fussing about trying to take care of things and Keicho's own rhythm and order, the solution to which that they came up with being that Keicho got the entirety of the second floor to himself. Okuyasu didn't mind – everything was simple with him, really – but after Keicho's death he felt even more out of place in that part of the house.
“It's fine if you wanna seal it off, dude,” Josuke told him one evening when he stayed the night, “you're the one living here. It's not like people know or care about that stuff, either way.” Josuke was smart, but he also believed in courtesy and manners even though he had been subjected to so much of the opposite of that, and it made for a strange kind of trust in humanity. One that was different from Okuyasu's own.
So in the end he decided to only seal Keicho's room. He had been slowly packing everything his brother left behind in the house into small carboard boxes and stashing them in the hallway. He wanted to keep a whole afternoon and evening free just to fix up the room itself, but he didn't think today would be it.
“Yeah, Koichi actually steered me home the moment we were sure you wouldn't show,” Josuke said mid-sweep. “I don't think Yukako mind. Actually I'm pretty sure Yukako doesn't really want me there third wheeling them. Gotta say I was about the same.”
“Sorry for leaving you hangin',” Okuyasu repeated, just as apologetic as when he said it the first time.
“It's not your fault you aren't well, dude,” Josuke stood up straight, free hand in his pocket. “Though a word beforehand would be good. But you were home late from the class, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Goto-sensei holding you up again?”
“Nah, he's nice.” He would be, after Josuke and Okuyasu dragged him out of some serious troubles last month. He was also a nice man in general. Okuyasu thought his writing style really didn't reflect that.
Josuke raised an eyebrow at his answer. Well, Josuke would have a different impression of Mister Goto Azuma, moderately famous novelist, given that the one who had to take a pen in the arm to grab the man (then under a Stand's control) was him and not Okuyasu. That kind of viciousness must keep people wary for a long time. Not to mention the apology gift they got was a place in Goto's ten-hour creative writing course organized by the uni, which was of no use to Josuke, but which Okuyasu snatched right up.
Outside of that event though, Goto-sensei was a mild-mannered, if a bit emotional and wordy person. He had anguish in his heart, sure, but he told Okuyasu once in class, in the tone of someone who was citing their name and age, that he wanted to love everything and anything more than he wanted to wallow in his sadness, so he channeled all of it into his writing and left his personal life free for his other emotions. Okuyasu found that a good way to do things as any.
“I'm gonna trust you on that,” Josuke said after a stretch of silence. Okuyasu grinned. “Anyway, something happened during the writing class then?”
“Yeah-- well, nah, but yeah.” Okuyasu rubbed his hands nervously under Josuke's confused look. “I mean, kinda? Goto-sensei gave us a prompt, and then I wrote something sad, and it bummed me out. 's all.”
Josuke's eyes grew wide. “Oh,” he said, “huh.”
“Yeah, it's dumb. Tolja don't mind it.”
“It's not dumb if it bums you out, dude.” Josuke leaned the broom against the desk and stepped closer to Okuyasu. His pomp looked almost plastic-ish under the buzzing light of the room. Okuyasu blinked when he held his biceps with both his hands. “I like you happy, Okuyasu. We gotta go there somehow, and I'm not a waiting man.”
Okuyasu looked at Josuke, eyes somehow brighter than the light should've made them, hands holding him firm as if willing him to believe. As if that had ever been necessary. He took a deep breath, and broke out in a grin.
“Thought so. You're a musical man.”
“Hell yeah I am.” The grin crept up onto Josuke's face, and he dragged Okuyasu in for a quick hug. “So, what's that piece you wrote today about?”
“I mean, you can read it.”
It must be impossible for Josuke's eyes to grow wider than this. This was maximum wide eye for him. “Really?”
“'s not fine art or some'n, but if you're cool with that, why the hell not. Wait here.”
Josuke waited in Keicho's half-cleaned room while Okuyasu went downstairs to fetch his notebook. Goto-sensei didn't care what his students did with what they wrote after class (“It's yours,” he had said, with passion, “and me telling you what to do with what's inherently yours is against everything I live for. Any experience you have with your own writing is deeply personal and unique, and if that includes setting your drafts on fire and inhaling the smoke, who am I to keep that from you?” He seemed to actually got misty-eyed at that idea.), but Okuyasu liked the man, and he thought keeping the things he wrote in his class in order was a way to show respect to a good teacher. Or it could at least make up for his terrible handwriting.
He flipped through the notebook as he went back upstairs. Man, he wrote more than he thought he did.
“Here,” he handed the notebook – opened to the correct page – to Josuke, who had finished sweeping the room and was bouncing on the balls of his feet in a subdued excitement. Josuke seemed extra careful with his hold on the thing.
“It's a poem?” Okuyasu didn't think that was actually meant to be a question, but he faltered a bit nonetheless.
“It's-- yeah. You aren't into that?”
“Dude, I barely read actual literature no matter what kind, that's not the thing. I'm just... poems are supposed to be even more about emotions than, like, novels and shit, right? I, uh...”
Josuke bit his lip. Okuyasu tried to follow the thread of logic.
“Goto-sensei said our writing is whatever we will it to be. If ya worry this won't be manly and cool, I'm gonna. I'm gonna will it into being for ya.”
“It's not that, dummy.” Josuke smacked him over the head with the notebook. He was smiling again though, so Okuyasu didn't mind. “I just don't think I can get the whole experience without you, like, walking me through it. Since you're the one with the emotions in this poem and all. So can you...”
Okuyasu grabbed the notebook. He looked at Josuke, and then at the words on the page between them, and then tentatively finished that hanging thought. “...recite it for ya?”
“Forget it if it bums you out again, okay?” Josuke held his hands up. “I'm cool either way. I wanna read it properly, sure, but if it's gonna ruin the night for you then forget it.”
Okuyasu stood there with his own notebook in his hand, with his boyfriend, in his brother's room that they were cleaning. He looked at Josuke, and then up at the buzzing light, and then at Keicho's CD collection on the shelf, newly dusted.
Finally he took a deep breath and said, “I'm not gonna hold onto it like that, dude.” And then he took Josuke's hand and said, “Let's come up to the roof for a bit.”
They left Keicho's room behind and went up to the attic, from where they climbed their way awkwardly up onto the Nijimuras' newly re-tiled roof. August was too early to feel chilly at night in Morioh, but there were winds, and the sky was wide open. Okuyasu thought it was a good place as any to give the poem a reading.
They settled on the warm tiles, and then Okuyasu had to stand up to go get a flashlight, and when he came back to the roof Josuke was still there – as if he would go away the moment Okuyasu blinked – the notebook balanced on his thigh.
“Ready,” Josuke said once Okuyasu had sit back down snug next to him, partly as a question and partly as a confirmation of his own status, and Okuyasu nodded.
“Alright.”
Okuyasu had never recited a poem before. His mom was a storyteller when she was alive, but there was a long stretch of time during which her conditions worsened slowly and the occasions lessened until both her and the stories were gone. His dad wasn't a wordy man, not outside of anger and grief. Keicho really would rather have silence than a human voice outside of his own, and again Okuyasu couldn't blame him for that. Or even question it, really, not when Keicho had his CDs and treasured them so. Outside of all that, Okuyasu had also never been good at school. He had other things to do, and the few literature classes he actually sat in for never saw him chosen by a teacher to read anything out loud from the textbook.
So, Okuyasu didn't really know what he was doing, no. But he was also a simple man, and right now it was doing it or not doing it. And Josuke had casted his vote – the only one that counted here and now.
“It's called 1999,” he said, and found his voice a bit raspy. He didn't figure out to clear his throat.
Cigarette butt on the ground
he chose one to pick up
and hold like a torch
Hand over head
Whispers like smoke
flow
1999
numbers he carried
one
in his left pocket
on the pad
along the line
into the waves
it's important, that's what he said
Cigarette butt in the air
His hand red
His eyes red
through them, the sky orange
twilight is for a while,
if statues are the same
1999
replays dissolve
into statics
into waves
away
one
on his lips
I didn't mean it like that,
or was it
I never told him,
or even
I don't think he knows,
that's what he said
Cigarette butt against the sky
futile
1999
variables
one
dissolved into the waves
my name is doubt,
and his I never got
1999
I met two ghosts in Morioh.
They were quiet a long time after that. When Josuke spoke up, he sounded like he just cried a bit. “Dude, that's so fucking sad.”
Okuyasu tried to keep himself from shining the flashlight on Josuke to see if he really had been crying. “For real? I don' even know what it's exactly about anymore. Jus' a buncha, uh, concepts put together randomly.”
“It got emotions into me, alright? So it's good to me, deal with it.”
“It makes you sad!”
“It's good sad though. Like listening to a late artist's album sad.” Josuke threw an arm around Okuyasu's shoulders. “That's how art is.”
“Sure,” Okuyasu harrumphed, but then smiled to himself, just a bit.
The two sat there on the roof well into the night. At one point they found their hands intertwined; Okuyasu let himself lean into the contact, flashlight and notebook laid aside, essentially forgotten. Late night breeze felt like sleep.
“The point of that poem is that I love you,” he said, and let it be.
The hand in his own tightened, and Josuke replied, with all the conviction his being could store, “I know, dude. Love you too.”
#jojo no kimyou na bouken#jjba#diamond is unbreakable#diu#okuyasu nijimura#josuke higashikata#josuyasu#fanfiction#fanfic#oneshot#man its been a while since I write something with romance that ends well#for any of the parties involved#but goddammit I just love the boys too much#I just (clenches fist) wish them all the good in the world#also headcanons stuffed in this fic include:#okuyasu writes#he won't trust himself to make a living out of it but he likes it#he also is actually pretty good with making calculations#as in addition substraction and shit#because when keicho started looking for dio and then the arrows he left taking care of the house to oku#that does include a lot of simple math#okuyasu can take care of that quick no problem but he gets stuck at logic math#like stuff with more letters than numbers in it#so he still doesnt do too well at school#yes I love okuyasu a lot what gives it away#and guess what!! I still have a lot left to give so Im gonna doodle the boys real quick tonight#have a good goddamn night guys I actually wrote something
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One Last Time
Like some of you, God blessed me with the most loving and devoted parents a child could hope to have.
As the pages unfold of my childhood memories, it occurred to me that a good part of my life, I waved or tried to see Daddy one last time before he disappeared from my sight.
Daddy got this crazy notion to join the Navy his idea of stability and a great career. Not too bad of an idea, except for the fact my parents lived in Edmonton where there isn’t an ocean, not to mention the fact that Mom was pregnant with me. And all her family as well as Dad’s were there. This meant he was to set things up in Victoria before Mom gave birth, then she was to fly to Victoria to start a new life with a sailor, a new baby and living in unfamiliar territory, with no family or friends around. Mom really loved him to agree to all of this, since sailors are hardly ever home.
He wasn’t there when I made my entrance. This would be the first of many missed events. He wired Mom beautiful flowers and card; these words were in all the cards and letters, he sent in the years to follow.
Sorry I wasn’t there. I miss you both. See you soon. Love always and forever, Johnny.
At one month, I had my first plane ride to Victoria, Daddy anxiously waiting for us. This was the first time he held me in his arms and of course, he probably couldn’t take his eyes off his little princess. Fast forward through all of the adjustments Mom made friends, learned to drive,( that was a hoot) and settled into the routine of a sailor’s wife and mother.
By the tender age of six, Dad was truly the love of my life. There’s a special bond between a father and his little princess that grows deeper throughout the years. I’d see other fathers home more often than mine and wonder why he was away so much.
In between trips, I treasured the time he had at home. We played baseball, he taught me to ride my bike and just shared quiet times together.
When he was home between trips he still had to go to work at the Naden Base. Usually the mornings were wet, cold and dark, with the fog-horn bellowing in the distance. On these mornings the front door closed which meant he was on his way, walking up the long road past my bedroom to catch the bus to Esquimalt. Jumping out from the bed, I ran to the window to wave good-bye. Dad would look up, we waved to each other he would turn and proceed to walk up the road to the bus stop, hands pushed into the pockets of his overcoat, the rain pelting on his white cap. My cheek was pressed hard against the window as I watched him one last time before he disappeared from sight.
When he had to sail away to some distant country, the good-byes were the hardest. The longest time we spent apart, I was about thirteen. He was drafted to Halifax for a year. He had been gone for nine months, when without warning one evening, there was a knock on the front door. I answered it and there, to my surprise, stood Daddy, smiling holding his bags. Stunned, I couldn’t speak. I turned and ran to get Mom. Needless to say we were elated. (He had gotten a week’s leave because of his mother’s passing.) Unfortunately he had three months left to serve before the year was ended. This good-bye was the hardest.
Mom and I drove him to the bus station so he could take the bus to the airport. The night air was damp and rather desolate when we dropped him off. We cried and hugged each other, promising not to look back, but as we drove away I had to glance back one last time, tears streaming down my checks.
I love you Daddy! I sobbed.
By the dim station light, he bent down to pick-up the duffle bag, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief.
In the years that followed, he retired after serving twenty-five years in the Navy. We moved back to Edmonton. What a change for me after growing-up in Victoria. He retired from two more good jobs I got married, and had three children. Unfortunately on December 13, 2000 my beautiful mother passed away from cancer. We missed mom so very much. I became his world.
For the time we had together, he’d cut my grass, come shopping, help clean the house, along with other tasks so as to feel useful. Our long walks were an important part of our lives. It was a time to reminisce.
“Hey, Dad did you ever wish you had a son?”
“No never. You are my princess and that’s all that matters,” he replied teary eyed.
Every evening at 9:00 p.m. we’d phone, chat for a bit and say good night, but this one particular evening he sounded terribly weak and hadn’t gotten out of bed. I found this alarming. My son and I raced over to check. Daddy looked like death, he was so pale. Trying not to panic I hugged him tightly then phoned the ambulance. The doctors whisked him into a little cubicle. The only man in my life who I loved and adored was on the verge of passing away. My knees buckled and heart breaking I overheard one of the doctors asking Daddy if his affairs were in order.
“This isn’t happening, he can’t leave me,” I sobbed.
Sitting in the waiting room, watching people come and go, everyone looking sad, tired and hurting, all I could do was stare at the clock and curl up in the chair waiting for some good news. At four in the morning the doctor came to me and said to go home, Daddy had pulled through and was resting. I broke down and cried tears of joy.
Driving home with my son, I realized how close I came to losing him. Life can change in a heart-beat, just as it had with Mom. Nothing can prepare us for the loss of a loved one.
I crawled under the covers when I got home, for a few hours of rest. Daylight appeared and the phone hadn’t rung. No dreaded call. I rushed to the hospital, found a parking space then preceded to information to find out what room he was in.
Quietly opening the door I tipped-toed up to the bed. Poor Daddy had some tubes and IVS hooked up to him, but he didn’t hear me enter. Through tear filled eyes I stroked his forehead while he slept. The doctor later told me that he had fluid around his heart causing pressure.
As the weeks passed I visited him almost every day. I could see the improvement in his health; he even got a television in his room.
“Hi, Daddy I love you,” I said.
“Hi, my princess, there’s an old movie on, come and watch it with me,” he’d say.
I thought he’d be coming home, but after two months, he took a turn for the worst. One evening I entered his room and found him sitting on the chair. I leaned over and kissed him. He looked so well groomed but his face was that of a child.
In a whispered voice he said, “The pastor was here today and everything is in order.”
“Don’t say that Daddy. You’re coming home. You can’t leave me,” I cried.
Holding onto him tightly, I saw him grimacing in pain so I led him to bed, tucked him in,
where he fell asleep. Gazing upon his sweet face tears rolled down my cheeks.
A few days later the hospital phoned saying dad had passed. Walking towards the room reminded me of the same as my mother years before.
Now I stood beside the bed shaking, crying and numb with disbelief, unable to leave him. I fixed the covers under his chin, touched and kissed his forehead for the last time.
How could I ever exist without this beautiful person who had been my father, best friend and mentor for fifty-four years? The most loving father a girl could have, who taught me to ride a bike, play ball and so many other things in life, but most of all gave me his unconditional love.
Standing next to the brown casket, I look down into the open plot knowing Mom is waiting for her soul-mate of fifty-three years.
The sun shone brightly down upon the lonely flower covered casket, the limo turned the corner, tears streamed down my face, as I turned around to see the casket one last time.
I will love you always Daddy! I wept.
I will someday embrace my wonderful parents and there will be no more one last time but forever.
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A tale of progress and setbacks.
So work continues on the novel, though it has been a lot slower than I wanted. I want to post on it just to emphasis that writing a novel is hard, and not just as simple as popping words onto a page. I’ve had my daughter going back to school, so that has disrupted my routine. previous my routine was interrupted by her being home all the time. You can’t win, haha. then i also disrupted myself by starting a short story(a lovecraftian-esque story). I wanted to write it so I could have something to submit to my critique group without having to keep going back to old parts of my novel and make them ready for critique. In my attempt to save some time, i lost some daily progress with the novel.
I’ve also had a few weeks where Ive had a lot of difficulty with sleeping properly which has interfered with my writing as well(tying in with my daughter starting school again). I’ve also just in general been having trouble pushing past a few scenes. Clothes scenes. I am TERRIBLE when I write about clothes. I just. I just lack the experience for them, so writing about them always bogs me down. Ive been slowly plodding through one scene which calls for a bunch of it while trying to avoid making it a shopping episode in text form. I finally broke through it on friday and wrote 700 words. The whole scene will probably have to be heavily restructured, but it’s there now, so i can move on. I thought about skipping ahead many times, but decided against it, because after i reach the end of the second draft, i don’t want to have to go back and write a bunch of stuff i didn’t want to write in the first place, haha. Today went better than most of the summer through. I got 1,100 words written today. Great! I’m also pretty happy with what i wrote. the romance aspects of it left me with butterflies in my stomach, so i hope it holds up once i make another pass at it.
Sorry for waiting so long to put out an update. I want to show the hard times as well as the good times, but i don’t want every week to be “I had trouble sleeping and writing this week.”
I hope you’re all doing well!
#Gift of forever#amwriting#writing is hard#marktheweaver#weaver of stories#romance#fantasy#novel#books
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