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#{° They Have To Stop Writing Posts Then Drafting Them. People Are Nosy. People Want To Know. °}

moddedmoor · 10 months

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{° Caption Pulled From Saved Draft °}

visited that café et couturière violet with Papa. it was. really quite nice. of course. on the way there. i thought. many things. it may have been ten years. but i still knew the route. i. thought Papa had actually lost it. but the place is a nice spot. glad it's being used for something else now. café owner seemed nice as well. looked busy, but did stop on by for a quick hello.

{° Photo Taken By M °}

Mod's shirt, btw

#{° They Have To Stop Writing Posts Then Drafting Them. People Are Nosy. People Want To Know. °}#pkmn irl #pokemon irl #pokemon #pokeblogging #flight or fight #((LOOK!!! THE EXCITING REVEAL!!!! I've been waiting on this for so long. it's insane #((they r like gatos to me #((also bc of rbs n stuff it's been so obvious 😭#((i have literally been in a struggle of “can't share” but then i go on and say shit that's so thinly veiled it's actually a window

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ladytauria · 6 months

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hey liv sorry in advance i am nosy

🍓🐇🧃🪐🍬🦷🦋🦴🪲

dont be sorry! i enjoy nosy uwu

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

hmm

i was 12. my favorite tv show at the time was this old disney cartoon, "super robot monkey team hyper force go" (abbreviated as SRMTHFG or SRMTHG. i prefer the first but plenty of people use the second.) it was canceled after its 4th season and, uh. the ending was SO bad. like, major major cliffhanger.

anyway, i was looking up... i don't even remember at the time. and i discovered deviantart, and i discovered this person's OCs. read a lot about them, including some fanfic, and then eventually discovered fanfiction.net

i didn't realize what it was at first; i thought it was just a writing in general site? and i was like oh! i can share the book i'm working on! (i have been trying to write a novel since i was 10). and then as i was looking into where i would post it, i realized what it actually was. (no, the title didn't give it away. idk why.)

so then i was like oh!!! this is really cool actually!!! and i wrote my first fanfic xD

that was in 2011? so i was 12, almost 13.

and i've been reading & writing fic ever since~

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?

okay so this is a tough question

bc like

i love love love love love second person.

like.

*adore* it.

second person, present tense is my absolute fave, but past tense is good too. (i have written an entire sapphic little mermaid retelling [12k words i think] in second person. uh, it needs revisions but it's a full draft. i opened it it the other day and im still so proud of it uwu)

howEVER. outside of writing second person w/o ever explicitly naming the pov character i have not actually written a reader-insert? so for that reason alone i will have to say 'prefer writing oc's'

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

uhh

i'm a chronic oversharer (mostly in the tags) so that's kind of tough!

ah! since my grandmother's memory issues started, i've been doing about half of the cooking (it's been a bit of a battle, as she keeps trying to do everything xD) and i've cooked a lot of new things this year!! i've gotten very good at cooking pork chops. which 🤔 now that i bring that up, i might make friday! or tonight, but they're still in the freezer, so...

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

my grandmother's memory situation has improved a lot!! it's still not great, but like. strides ahead of where we were 7-8 months ago!

my anxiety has been much kinder to me this year <3 i've made some very lovely friends this year~

mmm, oH, my energy levels have been fantastic this year. i didn't realize just how bad they had gotten until i started these new meds, and now i'm just. <333 much better.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

idk if i have any unpopular opinions...? i mean. i'm sure i must, but... nothing immediately comes to mind ^^;

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

hmmm

recently been trying to get in the habit of summarizing what i want to do before i start writing. it makes the process much easier, if ik a bit about what i want to do before going in?

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

i am much better at being patient than i ever gave myself credit for in the past <3

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

i can't think of one piece in particular, as the places i find inspiration are. all over the board?

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

picked a wip from my open tabs at random! funnily enough this is also the one i ended up doing for the emoji ask xD

it's also almost triple what this asked for but once i started writing i couldn't stop <3

He swallows, staring up at Tim. Jason has had plenty of practice reading people through a domino, but. He has no reference for the look Tim is giving him now. Only that it— That the feeling it gives him is… is new and strange. He has no name for it, the way his stomach feels fluttery and tight, his scalp and fingers tingling. His mouth opens—but all that escapes is a stuttery puff of air. That’s okay. He doesn’t know what he was going to say anyway. Tim hooks a gloved finger under his chin; tipping his face up. He leans in, slowly—so slow that Jason— There’s nothing keeping him there. He could run. Turn away. But he feels caught, feet anchored in place. Tim’s mouth touches his, and all thought leaves him. Jason has never been kissed before.

[ writers truth or dare ask game ]

#ask gaming #felinemotif #asks and answers #tauriawritesfanfic #the color of hope (canary yellow)

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tripstaysnoided · 4 years

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Flow Just Like Water

youtube

Story and writing-related transparency update and my many shames...

The Question on Everyone’s Mind

“Hey you haven’t updated No Stars over Uptown in almost a year...”

Hmm, I hate it when you’re right. (This section has been rewritten ad-nauseam to curb back the bitchiness by the way)

So back in early/mid 2018, the idea was to divorce Uptown from a person who influenced it (and myself) heavily. She was my most important audience member, the closest friend I ever had, and unfortunately someone who used her power to bully, ostracize, and hurt others with my help. I cut contact when the hurt + some self-awareness finally reached me. Apologies were made and I feel like my work will never be done with it, but there was still Uptown.

Between censored comments, entirely recasting Axel’s save, different plot threads, and a load of disclaimers, there was nothing that would scrub her influence from the story. There was no way to cleanly drop everything because of how deep her influence went. It disgusted me to look back at it, and I had to private the blog because I feared what it endorsed, even if just in the past.

I pulled back from that sims writing community. I had its main thread on the Official Forums removed too (I guess if that was a mystery to anyone). It was a surrender that I never wanted to do, but I had it in my mind that if I was gone, then she wouldn’t be there either. Uptown became this cursed item, and as I quietly retired it, I noticed that she went quieter too. Not gone, but enough to make me sleep easier at night and even occasionally say hello to old friends.

And I hope deep in my heart that no one else is getting hurt in my place, but now this is gonna haunt me all day huh!

The two paths forward...

1) Complete Uptown rewrite that I’ve been threatening everyone with all year. While it won’t ever be clean because I can’t undo time, I do have a sound outline for a story that is much more true to my actual vision and how I’ve evolved, with a few necessary boundaries in place that are going to be there for all stories moving forward: no more casting calls and no more collaborative efforts. I am not going to open myself up to this happening again, even if the people have changed.

2) Same as above, but I continue the original Uptown as a favor to loyal readers alongside the rewrite. I would try to put the effort into it that I initially did, but with no promises on an update schedule and no advertising. I did ask myself “is there Patreon but without pledging money, just the private posts function” but it could operate as part of a private forum, a members-only part of a website, etc.

Also readers of the original would be beholden to a rule of “don’t spoil the rewrite for new readers, c’mon guys”. I mean, not really, but it is a good courtesy to extend to people.

Priority on this isn’t high but you at least will see what is!

I will probably make the blog public again either way due to the many broken links on my Tumblr but we’ll see. There are other things to deal with as I shall list!

Where Life’s Been Regardless

Been spending more time with my grandpa every weekend. Life’s pretty good and he’s warming up to my dogs.

Shiny New Webbed Site

Cucumber Fields Forever is a site I own now. We have a full domain, cucumberfieldsforever.com, a blog with one post, and the framework needed to host stories the way I want to and still through WordPress. The functionality of likes, comments, and following should still be the same but you know...I’ll take feedback too...

The main blog still has an undefined purpose though I do have drafts sitting around about:

The maybe/maybe not hoax band that was on the Metal Archives and the history of Funeral Doom Metal.

The curious case of when Sims 4 babies get their genetics and my only collaboration (read: was talking about it with a friend and might quote her if needed, it’s actually a bit of a doozy)

Amazon.com’s fake dried udon noodles, an actual issue by the way.

Things I’m reading! (This’d be a monthly feature if so)

For the sake of unity, I am thinking of solutions for hosting old and shameful content there including Uptown and for the real fans in my followers feed, Eight Cicadas...a world I totally have plans for too (not really). I don’t want them to be front-and-center, and that’s why I mentioned forums/members-only content. I finally have that power! Maybe.

Ooooh but what are the costs? Not too much to handle, that’s what. 😉 (Like really, I don’t need any hand-wringing about this, I can manage my finances)

Project Queue (In Order of Confirmedness)

Outrun the Scythe: have you seen me post out-of-context Sims 3 pictures? Did you want more? Did you hope it was Linda in Custody? If the answers are yes, yes, and “meh, whatever you want”, then you’re in luck.

Outrun the Scythe is a Sims 3-based tale of a young gay man and his zombie grandma, as they are both offered separate roles of being the undying intermediaries between the world of humans and the influence of a race of space daemons. It’s pretty familiar if you’ve been following me pre-Uptown, taking some cues from stories I’ve kept under lock and key like Eight Cicadas, The Chains of Lyra, and the not-so-locked-up Ironstar Immortals (of which Outrun is just the direct sequel to sans any retconning...ah the smell of early 2013 and performative heterosexuality)

Ah, back to my roots.

It’s a hybrid of gameplay, story, and lore about my little race of daemons with a lot of my own idiosyncrasies that I’m not really ashamed of: basing it off a super-polarizing Sims 3 challenge from a site I moderate, using a lot of EA’s pre-made townies and their genes, lots of unnecessary posemaking, stupid references. It’s a comfort to have in my roster.

While the first few chapters are in the middle of revision, I have around six in the queue and will be making this public when I have ten. I’m guessing December then?

Undocumented Black Widow Challenge: I just did this for fun/forum kudos (yes, in fact I have joined many forums), there was going to be a short story but it was quickly becoming something against my code of ethics. I mean, sims die and all. (read: I had to choose between “heterosexual widow” and “widow with some same-sex marriages that still end in tragedy, reinforcing negative stereotypes to the public for the sake of me not getting bored and detached during gameplay” so there were no good choices. Except for her affair with the mailwoman, 10/10) I hope to finish this before October ends and get my medal on Boolprop, I’m pretty far through it all. I might upload the sims involved anyways. This is for TS4.

I mentioned it because it’s keeping me busy. But not for long!

NaNoWriMo 2020: Dipping my toes into that again! It’s not sims-related, just a tale of lesbians, nosy neighbors, a haunted beach house, and some light murder and kidnapping. And I actually got my brother to scout out locations for me this weekend. If there’s any demand, I can share chapters as the rough drafts are finished, especially for the sake of proofreading.

Not saying I’m publishable, but wouldn’t it be nice? Will keep me occupied for much of November.

Untitled “Dear Diary” Challenge: Tired of feeling left out of the fun on the Boolprop forums, their “Dear Diary” challenge was the one that appealed to me the most on first glance. Why? Probably once I found an idea that let it be set in the early/mid-2000′s to begin with and explore some interesting characters through diary entries (which I have mixed feelings on as a literary device but I think that’s just me saying “well I didn’t like Dracula”, yes you get bonus points for writing it like a diary)

Also writing is the one skill I’m good at across multiple games. Wanna hear me bitch about the cooking skill tree in TS4 or riding in TS3? I’ll spare you.

I guess I could have included “spending time on Boolprop with old and new friends” in where my life has been. It’s a nice lil community if also a place with its own idiosyncrasies as well. So it doesn’t feel like I’m promoting another community if/when I make a thread there for Outrun the Scythe, I want to have a couple chapters of this ready to go by Outrun’s release, though it’s not gonna be the highest priority compared to it nor as long because I think I can blast through the gameplay quickly.

This one will be played in TS4 due to it having the easiest writing skill/I dunno variety is the spice of life. And hopefully another December release.

Defunded or Forgotten?: Oh shit I actually released stuff in 2020 and told no one? I do have a “mortifying ordeal of being known” sinking feeling whenever I get a site hit because it’s not my best work (but good enough) and veered sharply into issues I may be over my head in, though I try to be a good noodle with research and listening. Maybe hiding is bad after all.

Being based off a very flawed and incomplete Sims 3 challenge I found in the annals of the Official Forums, there’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work just making sense of things. And I’m scared of working on reconstructing the house but I haven’t abandoned the project yet. The story has eight chapters so far and is pretty game-based with some additions here and there. Scared of how long it could be though!

Date for this unknown.

Untitled Sunlit Tides Decadynasty: another year-long abandoned TS3 project with a much stupider reason why. Last update was about Hua getting ready for her wedding, and I wanted to do some poses for a bait-and-switch wedding chapter because to put it mildly, her real one was an absolute disaster.

Blender decided to fuck up its interface again, I got discouraged (this probably does account for some of the Uptown delays too), and when I decided to plow forward, it was for other projects instead.

Meanwhile I played all the way to Gen 5′s teenhood and the only thing stopping me is time (it takes almost 30 minutes to load the file right now, though they’ll be looking at moving towns in a couple gens) and maybe fear of the Logic skill.

Date for this also unknown but it’s easy to pump out updates once I’m in the groove for it. My third heir had a difficult life so maybe I’m just trying to bury it.

Also I just noticed the view count there was really good and probably because I linked it here on Tumblr last year. Thank you so much guys. I can’t really fret over views on Carl’s forum these days thanks to the years-long death spiral pretty much every forum anywhere has been riding on. But it’s a nice surprise. And it’s an alright little challenge recap to read during your lunch break or whatever.

The Wawas

I figured I’d end on the real news everyone wants! Both the chihuahuas are a year and a half now and reached their adult size around a year ago. For the most part, they are happy and healthy dogs.

#state of the uwunion #long post

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allthelittlelostgirlsgrowup · 4 years

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Love is History

*taps mic* is this thing on? (I stole that from Obama. He was still in office last time I posted my writing).

So fun thing I did - write an angsty sequel to Love is Fiction. If you’ve never read it, it just got over 300 notes this past week. I figured it was time to dust this off from my drafts and complete it.

I hope you like it and my voice sounds similiar to the last election year when I put this out. Honestly I’m so different now and I think this captures the changes I’ve gone through and the way I view relationships now opposed to four years ago.

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters.

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing.

She thought she’d never write their break up.

“What’s the history?” Belle squints her eyes, nose crinkling as she watches Emma. Belle has been Emma’s ‘Editor’ since college. Now more official. She gets a paycheck, as Emma gets advances from a publishing company that started as a small mom and pop establishment. In the last four years, this little wagon wheel of a company is now a fleet of office buildings all over the US.

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

Belle keeps her eyes on Emma, relaxing the tension in her face and suppressing a smirk. They’re at a bit of a stalemate here because Emma isn’t sure what more info is needed and Belle isn’t sharing her thoughts at the moment.

“Emma, I knew their history. They finished book 3 in a ‘happily ever after’ kind of way. What underlying issues could have brought them to this point? Why did Alysandra leave?” Emma considers the question. Why did she decide to destroy the happiest relationship she’s ever written? Why would a character who fell madly in love just change their mind? “Maybe, ask yourself why you left.”

-/-

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed.

Emma flings her keys across the kitchen island, kicking her heels off in a huff before stomping over to her bar cart. She pours his favorite whiskey into the anchor-etched old fashion glasses he got her one Christmas.

“History is a stupid word” she grunts to no one but a tilted glass, muffling the sound as the amber liquid meets her lips a second after. She’s taken up talking to herself these last few months. The first four were spent crying and avoiding her reflection. The loneliness finally set in one night and she made herself her own best friend. So she asks her best friend ‘why did you do it?’ as she feels the tension in her shoulder blades ease. Why? Why did Emma Swan leave Killian Jones seven months ago?

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

-/-

The nightmares finally stopped and she no longer wakes with a startle when she finds her bed bare of him. Its been 216 days. She’s cried herself to sleep at least 180. She’s been broken before, boys have left in more ways than one, and she has managed to wake up one day finding herself less damaged than all the others. Today might be that day for the Killian Jones saga.

Today is they announced the upcoming film and casting begins in a few weeks. She knows she needs to finish this novel, but she hasn’t finished much. She barely finishes lunch on most days, barely finishes a thought that isn’t dripping in Killian. It’s been seven months and he is everywhere, in everything. She thought progress was a slowly-operated escalator but she was finally on her way.

And then the congratulation calls come through. Text after text, email, voicemail and she’s sure in a week or two, she’ll get a card from Mary Margaret. She sorts through them looking for something she’ll never find and she has to rewind.

She left him. It wasn’t mutual and it wasn’t obvious. He had no clue. All the calls and texts he was going to send her were sent months ago when he was breaking down in voicemails and begging her to just tell him she was okay.

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She doesn’t leave the apartment again until the 245th day. It is easy to stay inside with the modern advances in technology. People will bring literally anything to your front door. Except, maybe inspiration. That she has to go out and find.

She finds herself in Harlem. The Harlem Public Library. She has to get back to her roots. Sure, this isn’t Storybrooke, and no, she’ll probably never meet a pair of eyes as blue coconut as...but her work needs her to find a way to write.

She thinks of his face.

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again.

“I left because I had to.” She looks at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. That’s the only statement she’s made to anyone, herself included. When her friends, her agent, her editor, and her heart ask, she tells them she had to.

She makes her way through her apartment, recounting the moments, hours, days leading up to it. There are very few things her mind makes enough sense to share. Everything else is so convoluted, so tangled up in self-loathing and years of agonizing loneliness, the average person wouldn’t get it. Some days, as she’s matured and healed, she finds even she has trouble understanding it.

There’s not a day that goes by she doesn’t spend half of it feeling nothing but regret. That’s the healthy part of her, the well-adjusted adult who grew from the little lost girl. She’s sane enough to know she threw away the best relationship she’s ever had. She’s sane enough to know she saved him from future hardships with her.

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career.

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Nice of you to finally answer your phone.” She can hear the glare in Regina’s voice. “You know you pay me to do this right? Not the other way around. Get your money’s worth, why don’t you.” Emma rolls her eyes as she packs her laptop in her messenger bag.

Regina Mills is a fierce woman, as charming as she is aggressive. She can pretty much get anyone to do anything she wants. Emma doesn’t practice in the ways of the force, but she’s certain Regina knows a Jedi mind trick or two, and as her agent, that comes in handy.

What doesn’t come in handy is her tie to Killian. Regina’s husband Robin happens to be Killian’s cousin. Emma avoided Regina’s calls for months after the break-up, afraid she’ll have to answer the same question she’s been asking herself all afternoon. Once she finally started accepting calls again, it seemed Regina had moved on to bigger and better things: A movie deal.

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?”

“This isn’t money related, so much as a word of warning.” Regina’s tone doesn’t seem as sass-filled as before, so it’s clear she’s not the one wielding the threat. She actually sounds a bit sympathetic. “Belle and I pulled straws to see who got to break this to you, and I, unfortunately, pulled short this time around.”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden.

“Killian just moved to NYC.” Like ripping off a band-aid. Emma braces herself for pain, but is met with an absence of feeling altogether. Her knees buckle and she finds purchase against her kitchen island. “Emma?”

“When?” She whispers.

“Just a couple of weeks. He took a job with the NYC public libraries, he’s actually doing really well and has just approached Belle with an idea to get the youth excited about writing. There’s a chance you’ll run into him at the office, so I just...we both thought a heads up was necessary.”

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.”

-/-

She thought about leaving the country. At the very least, the state. She is overwhelmed, without a question just so damn overwhelmed. She has gotten so used to tears these days, she’s a little shocked she didn’t cry the minute she heard his name.

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later.

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/- “Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today.

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR.

7:45 pm

“Sorry, I’ve been reading all day.” she hasn’t talked to anyone for another two weeks. She does this far too often to still have a support system. Emma’s not sure she’d pour the same amount of effort into anyone who went radio silent every other week.

“We had a meeting at 2:30.”

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly.

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“We just did, I’ll see you in thirty minutes. Open the door.” Sure, she’s a small, sweet, meek-looking woman, but what most people don’t know about Belle is she could slay dragons with pure determination alone. In a battle of wills, she's even got Regina beat.

Emma peels herself off the sofa for the first time since noon, snuggie falling to the floor as she heads for the shower. If Bella can make the journey to her apartment, Emma can at least shower. Sure enough, 30 minutes later she’s greeting Belle at the door, a pizza in hand.

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle.

“Yeah, just...the creative process. Ya know.” Emma trails off as the hug ends. Of course, she’s not okay. ‘Okay’ people don’t stop answering their phones for weeks, they don’t stare at blank pages until their vision blurs. They don’t behave this way. This was her first shower in days.

“He was in the office yesterday,” Belle says after a long silence, just a full 3 minutes of her studying Emma from head to toe. Do her eyes just scream ‘Killian’ every time someone looks at her. “He said he called to congratulate you on the screenplay adaptation.”

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called.

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off.

“Let me finish.” Belle opens the pizza box, sliding it toward Emma. “I think you should take a vacation. Get out of the city for a while, maybe visit Storybrooke, since you know he’s not there to run into.” Emma grabs a slice of pizza, not sure when she last ate but too preoccupied with the idea of leaving the city for a while. She ran to NYC. Now she’s running back to Storybrooke. Is he just going to chase her back and forth?

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

God only knows what compelled her to do the exact opposite of what Belle suggested and show up at the publisher’s office. Probably the same thing that led her to the Harlem library a few weeks ago. She bought a new outfit. She realizes she’s barely even worn jeans over the last eight months, and now she’s in a dress and heels like she has an interview to work here. She’s wearing makeup and perfume. She’s trying her best to cover up and signs of the wreck she’s been for months.

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him.

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Swan?” no one calls her Swan. She’s paralyzed. What did she think was going to happen? How did she think she was going to react? When she paced around her apartment for three hours this morning, did she think she was going to just be okay? He would be here, he would see her and suddenly everything would be okay? “Emma…” He tries softer, less shocked, more timid.

This is the moment. In every love story, angst finds its way in, rips the reader’s heart out and although they’ve been bleeding for chapters now, they can feel nothing at this moment. Time is still, the lights are dim, and all we see is Emma and him.

He looks like himself, just more professional. He’s in well-fitted gray slacks, a navy dress shirt, his hair is longer though. He’s got more scruff on his neck than normal. His eyes are too blue, truly, for anyone to notice another inch of him. They stare at her, the same shade that’s been haunting her dreams, and she still struggles to define it. Everything. They’ve always been everything, no matter if it’s more cotton candy than blue coconut.

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

It’s suddenly so quiet but so loud. She can hear her heart hammering in her eardrums. No one says anything for a long stretch of time, maybe 2 seconds, maybe 3 hours, she can’t be sure. She just knows there is so much said in the silence.

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating.

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?”

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?”

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about.

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

“Swan was a bright young writer once” Killian grins, wickedly. “Why don’t you attend the meeting. We’re talking about a youth writing program.” He’s obviously bating her. How dare she show up on a day he’s here and act like she didn’t destroy him…

“Sure” she agrees. Partly because she’s too stubborn to back down from a challenge, and mainly because she did destroy him and there’s that whole thing about masochism she recently discovered about herself.

Belle looks beside herself. Her eyes narrow and she puffs her chest for a moment before leading them to a meeting space. Two more individuals join them, laptops ready to jot down notes and ideas. Her meetings are only ever with Belle so, for Emma, this seems like red carpet treatment.

He has amazing ideas. He loves the idea of bringing an artistic outlet to the children of Harlem. He was always so much more than a shelfer. He was always a dreamer, with these brilliant, compassionate ideas for helping everyone feel less alone, more encouraged.

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye.

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness.

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break.

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion.

“So...when we uh, when we left off, you were telling me why they broke up.” Belle sighs, knowing how awful this is. Emma smiles, hoping it lets her off the hook a little. After all, Belle told her to leave town. Emma decided to torture herself.

“Right.” Emma takes a large breath in, holding it while she pulls out her folder. Only releasing once its in Belle’s hands. Killian is studying her like he has a Chemistry final to take tomorrow and she’s the only hope. “Alysandra left Atlas for his…” She’s said it to herself. She’s made hints to others, but Killian has never had a clue. “For his own good. She’s derailed him from his journey. She’s made him less of a pirate, more of a…”

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

“She reduced him to a caregiver,” Belle answers from what’s written in the text. “Alysandra took over the journey of discovery. She was suddenly the main character.” Belle looks up at Emma with a look she’d only be able to classify as “delayed understanding.”

“In a story about Atlas, Aly becomes the focus. Everything he does, he does for her.” Emma can feel herself losing composure, eyes stinging with tears, throat drier than a desert. Somehow, someway, she finds her way to Killian’s eyes. “He wasn’t living for himself anymore. He had no purpose but to love her. And it was destroying everything.”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received.

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall.

She is less.

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before.

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone.

“Aly is an orphan” Emma explains and she can see his head start to shake, but she has to be firm. “Listen. She is not the strong-willed, rebel without a cause she pretends to be. Some days the sadness from being alone for so long stunts her. She spends hours upon hours laying awake wishing she could sleep forever. She can be a wreck, a mess, an impossible woman to love.”

Does it make it easier to talk about herself as if she’s someone else? She’s been doing it for so long, all the catharsis from writing herself into stories, just to unpack the things that plague her? Maybe she can have sympathy for anyone but her, maybe its the only way she can recognize how her behavior impacts others. Maybe the book is why she left in the first place.

“You make it impossible to love you, Emma.” She’s never seen his jaw trembling like this before. “And against all odds, through resilience and patience, I’ve found a way to do the bloody impossible. You can cover it up in characters you’ve based off of us, but this isn’t fiction. I was real. What we had...what we had was real. It wasn’t easy, but when you finally let me in, it was simple. We were happy.”

“You were happy?” She brushes tears from her cheeks as she shakes her head in disagreement. “Was it simple? To come home and find I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch? Was that the ideal relationship you dreamt of, to see all of your energy, love, and time wasted on someone who couldn’t get themselves off the couch?”

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

“Did you now?” He seems so out of breath for standing still. “Or could you have possibly woken up one day and realized the weight of a relationship was what was pinning you to the couch. Was it that Atlas cared for Aly too much, or was it the expectation that Aly would have cared for him in return? Was breaking my heart easier than just trusting me with yours?”

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do.

“Maybe there were days you thought I was miserable” he kneels before her as the ocean finds its way to this office. His eyes are ocean blue, always changing hues depending on if the sun is shining, or a storm is brewing or they’re in the deep. “But you weren’t afraid I’d die that way, always miserable, no...some part of you thought I’d leave before I let that happen. That’s the orphan I loved. You were never a mess. You were a survivalist.”

So maybe that’s their story. Aly watched Atlas change his life for her, and realized he’s going to live to regret it. Did the last seven months hurt less because it was her choice? If he would have pulled the trigger, would the bullet do that much more damage?

“I would have died miserable.”

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

This was the first time she was the one who left, and to quell the guilt of being her own worst nightmare, she forced herself to believe she was doing it for him. How many people have left her for her own good? How many times did she think that they were doing her a favor?

She’s been sitting motionless for who knows how long when Belle comes back. Killian is long gone but his words linger like those dizzy stars after a concussion. Her head is throbbing trying to make sense of it. This wasn’t just seven months spent believing the lie. Now she’s searching for the truth.

She gets anxious in monotony, like a stench in stagnant water, she is repulsed by the concept. She’s never wanted to do the same thing every day. She doesn’t want a picket fence, she wants…She does like a cute cottagey feel with a nice picket fence, she could…she could deal with a picket fence.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

There were times, she’d look at him fresh out of the shower, or in his sleep and he’d look so much younger, she’d wonder what their kids would look like. There have been times she’s searched her fingers as they moved across her keyboard and realized her ring finger would look nice with a natural stone set in some brass band. It was never anything he did that scared her. It was that she thought about more. The concept of more scared her, and the fact that she was greedy and foolish enough to want it.

Four years is a long time to not talk about marriage, but after they moved past her initial anxiety attacks over having a boyfriend, he never really pushed for much again. Moving in together was her idea. He kept enough stuff at her place and with Elsa moving abroad, it made sense to do it. That’s as far as she was going to take it. Another few years piled up and she was busy writing and he was busy being supportive of that, she recognized she was his sun. When he made sure she ate during the weeks she barely left the house, when he kept her house plants alive, when he did her laundry, reminded her to shower, and told her he’s proud of her too often to quantify, she knew she was his ship. An inanimate object, something someone can love so much and not receive the love back in return, and sure, he’s as silly as a pirate to believe a ship that holds itself together while he’s sailing on her loves him, and that’s just her role.

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

She started to get bitter and insecure. What is she contributing to this relationship? How is she making him any better? Has he even written many songs since they moved in together, has she gone to see him perform, has he performed? Some days she was so enthralled in her writing, she didn’t realize he wasn’t home all day. It was his day off and he was gone for longer than a workday. He could have been having an affair for all she knew. For all he did, he deserved to be having an affair, falling in love with someone who would be there for him, encouraging his dreams, and dedicating herself to him.

After that day, she started her drafts. Killian, you’re so much more than I deserved…Or Killian, your life paused the day you met me. And finally, after months, she left him with I need this to be over.

She’s a writer, a published author, an English major and an avid reader yet, through years and years of literature and just terrible romcoms, she never learned how to break up with someone. She never knew the words to say to him, so she said nothing. He called for three-five days, she’s not sure as she was in a sobbing-induced coma. He sent texts, he sent freaking carrier pigeons, and she locked herself in a hotel room with her laptop and her broken heart. Finally, an email came in.

Emma, I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart. Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is?

“No.” She glances over at Belle, she thinks to ask if she talked to him in the hall after he left, if he said anything, if he seemed ‘Okay’ himself but she settles back to a business mindset. Work is the only constant. “Aly left because she didn’t want to get left again.”

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.”

She hears his voice cascading down the ramp she’s sitting at the bottom of. It's been a week since Belle’s meeting and she made her way back to the library. Back to their roots. There’s so much history in this building, but the history she’s looking for lives within her. There’s a group of teenagers huddled together like they’re on a tour. Her fingers shake as she looks back down at her laptop.

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

His voice sounds increasingly close. She wants to look but if they lock eyes now, while he’s busy, she’s back to being the center of attention. Why did she come here? Does she want to get back to being the center of his attention?

“Swan?” her stomach flips violently. She really didn’t think this through. Her neck trembles as she cranes to look up at him. “Hi.” He clears his throat, the group of teenagers studying them closely from behind him.

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

“Emma Swan?” A young girl in the back pipes up. “You write Cap Zeph.” ‘Cap Zeph’ is a very popular Tumblr tag, Emma’s been told. She is now a mild-day D list celebrity with the news of the screenplay adaptation. She never published under her real name until this one, Killian’s idea.

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.”

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

“Yes, and Killian Jones worked there. He’s…evidently the inspiration. Hair as dark as night, eyes as blue as the sea he sails upon.” Every girl and one boy in the group glance at Killian, amorously. Still handsome as ever. He looks down, scratching behind his ear and chuckling dryly. She wonders if his throat burns the same way her eyes do or if this feels so natural he’s happy to fall back into it.

“Why don’t you all find some books to research personal voice from in the YA section, hmm?” He dismisses the group quickly. They share assuming glances and move to leave in pairs, surely gossiping on the way.

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay?

“What brings you?” Killian starts. He isn’t looking anywhere but her and the look in his eyes leaves frost on her flesh. His expression is so blank. She has no idea if he even wants her here after their last conversation.

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

“Christ, Swan. Stop it.” He grabs a seat across from her at the small bistro-style table she’s been working on. She closes her laptop to remove barriers between them. “I hated myself for a while. I thought maybe I should have never lost sight of who you were. You’ve always been guarded. I thought I had broken down some of your walls. I should have never assumed I tore them all down.”

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove.

“What about your walls?” Emma counters. She didn’t come for an argument, but Killian had trauma, he was damaged in theory, but always presented himself as such a well-adjusted, forgiving, kind, loving man. “Maybe you had to go brick by brick, but you knew they were there. I just watched you for years never act like anything troubled you.”

He laughs, loudly.

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it.

“Emma, my love...of course I was troubled. I still am. I drink far too much and try to solve all of my problems myself without anyone’s help.” He’s still smiling as he confesses.”Hell, I didn’t tell anyone we broke up for months and it wasn’t because I thought you were coming back. I just knew I wasn’t going to let anyone worry about me.”

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

“I spent an entire day at the marina grieving my dead brother, over a decade after losing him. Every time I went to leave and come home to you, I’d get upset again. I used to stay away until I could pull myself together.” His smile slips into something dark and Emma realizes all the ways they failed at communicating. “I loved you just enough to only show you my best parts. I never trusted our love enough to show you everything. And it’s not because you were sad every now and then.”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

“I think the term is ‘best-laid plans.’” His smile is back “Convince an author to fall in love with you, live forever. Only, with my luck, I get to read my heart get broken in the exact same way whenever I’d like. I was looking forward to your book, knowing I’d get to see us in love again.” She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

“It’s as much my book as yours.” She means that. When she first wrote the Cap Zeph short stories, she had no plan of publishing. Killian pushed for her to immortalize this, to believe in herself and sell it. When the first went well, he convinced her to meet with Regina. “I mean, you are the entire series, after all.” He shakes his head and sighs.

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

“I should get back to my writers.” He moves to stand and she wants to jump up, but she doesn’t know what words follow that. She writes fiction. It's why this book has been so damn difficult. Writing their personalities into a fantasy of pirates and fairies, that's one thing. Writing history is another. She can build on what has already happened. This in-the-moment dichotomy, will they? Won’t they? Can they make it work? It’s disturbing.

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured.

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history.

The screenplay would read ‘They share a look of longing’ and she’s not sure that’s how she’d describe it. ‘Longing’ seems more cliche and not nearly as descriptive as her quickening pulse would use.

This feels like a pivotal moment where she realizes that they don’t necessarily have to not be in love anymore. They could take a slow pace, like windchimes waiting for a breeze to bring them together. That’s all a Zephyr is.

“My number hasn’t changed.”

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am. Are you up? It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man.

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door?

“What's the escape plan this time?”

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart.

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it?

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Of course. I planned on seeing you no matter where I lived...I prepared for you to come into focus and the rest of my world to blur.” He sighs and she can hear his mattress settle as he moves. “I didn’t plan on seeing you in my library again.”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.”

They talk til 4am. She’s rethought every word she’s said these last seven months. She rarely moves without tension tugging at the back of her neck. Her thoughts are never clear and simple, not since she left. And here, in the darkness of her bedroom, with nothing but a familiar voice on the other end, she hasn’t second-guessed a word.

-/- She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word.

But he asks her out for drinks afterward and suddenly she’s all he’s focused on, laughing about old times, discussing the interesting twist in literature they’ve both read recently. She asks him if he’s written any songs and he beams brightly when he tells her ‘only recently, Love.’

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

“Are you dating him?” Belle watches her from the doorway as Killian moves down the hall to his meeting. They came to the office together this time, maybe a peck on the cheek occurred before his departure, and maybe Belle witnessed it.

“I don’t know.” Emma tries not to think logistically about what’s going on. It’s been 4 weeks, she’s written 8 chapters and Aly is about to find Atlas again. “For the first time since I started, I know how book 4 will end.”

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it's beautiful. From tragedy to triumph is the Captain Zephyr way.” Belle hands the work back to Emma with a sad smile. “What makes it different this time? True love always finds its way back to one another, but how do we know they won’t split up again?” Emma knows this isn’t about the novel. They haven’t yet gotten back together to split up.

Does she know they’ll never separate again? Of course not. Killian is dedicated, devoted like a priest to the cloth. She is very aware that his heart is not yet healed, but eager to love her all over again. A few dates and late-night phone calls don’t make forever a promise anyone could keep.

“We don’t.”

-/- He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph. “Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous.

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.”

It's the look on his face when he studies her apartment that makes her remember they broke up. As if she had forgotten months of trying to hold herself together, he reminds her that she broke him when his face floods with that loneliness.

“Killian...”

“This is a very nice place you have.” his eyes are darting from one corner to the next, lingering on the most significant differences. “So ‘New York’ it's almost as if you’ve never lived anywhere else.”

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls.

“It’s just a place to lay my head.” He glances back at her with something almost accusatory when he says “You’ve gone ahead and made yourself a home.” And it has never felt like that, not once, when she was hiding away, when she would run home to it.

This place, this city has always been a foster home she feels like she’ll get kicked out of if she gets too comfortable. It wasn’t like their home together. Their home felt like roots. Here she feels like an implant that won’t take to the soil.

“The designer furnishings don’t mean shit to me.” Emma moves to the bookshelf, all new and shiny but it's just a box to keep what matters most. “Only what I’ve come here with is all I care to take. She pulls out a few books, “Wuthering Heights,” “The Book Thief,” and “Emma.” She hands them to him knowing they were always his.

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand.

“What do you need to not resent this place? To know I have everything you left tucked away in all these new places?” she motions for him to follow her to the bedroom and he slowly drifts behind, setting the novels on the coffee table. Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“I only drink whiskey you like. I only sleep in your t-shirts.” she sits on her bed, reaching for his hand to pull him down with her. “I don’t know what we are, and I can’t promise you I’m not a tragedy waiting to happen. I just know that I haven’t been able to erase an inch of you.”

He kisses her then. It's not on her terms, and he has only ever waited for everything to be on her terms. So when he pulls her in, hand cupping the back of her head, mouth open and adventurous, she gasps.

His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer to him, her hands pressed flat against his chest as his tongue enters her mouth with desperation. She fists his shirt in her hands, pressing even closer to him as her tongue reacts in kind. It has been the longest year without him and he’s kissing her like they’re running out of time.

All at once they’re falling as he lays her down on her back, continuing to claim her mouth as his property. Her hands start moving, tugging and fumbling with buttons and zippers and just much too much fabric for her liking. When she moves for his briefs he tugs back from her lips.

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear.

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before.

-/-

They spend the next few months together and she bangs out the rest of the book in record time. Regina and Belle throw her a submission party. She dodges questions about their future and tries to focus on the book.

“So Aly and Atlas together again,” Robin questions her as Killian returns with a drink for the both of them. She knows he’s not talking about the story. Killian has been very careful to not assume much about their status. Both of them have just stuck to ‘seeing where it goes.’

But it's not like they just met six months ago. They have history, they have four years of standing together at parties and being a couple. Do they have the luxury of casually dating? If all happiness is fleeting, do they dive face-first in it or wade in the shallow end.

“I love Killian.” She says firmly. It’s never not been true from the moment she realized it, in a foreign library miles and miles away from home. He is not easily erased, and it has become glaringly obvious it will only destroy her to try. “I always have and I always will.” Killian’s eyes have never been so doe-like. She’s never been so bold.

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

“And I love Emma, if it isn’t ardently clear. She’s everything to me and I’m happy just to exist in her life.” He raises his whiskey to her and she follows suit like a gentlemen’s agreement has just been formed: To love one another without concern of what it means. As she takes a sip she realizes what everything means. He hasn’t pushed aside his dreams in the slightest this go around. He’s been focused and driven, ambitious and busy. Somehow, he’s still considering her ‘everything.’ Maybe what she thought was sacrifice all that time ago was really just love.

So they stay in love.

-/-

Another year goes by and the first film is set to release. Although Emma and Killian still pay rent at their separate apartments, they spend every night together. Sometimes it's downtown in Killian’s studio, and other nights it's in the heart of the city at Emma’s. Commitment isn’t measured by who gave what up. It has shifted to who stays. They both do, and every day they make the decision to stay, when it's 5 months since Killian has slept alone or 10 months since Emma had dinner without him. They stay together with one promise in mind. They love each other. And for as long as Love is Present, they will choose each other.

Love is History

“Art imitates Life right?” Belle closes the folder encasing a rough draft of her first few chapters.

“All good things come to an end.” Emma shrugs as if the concept of him being just a ‘good’ thing ending doesn’t devastate her. He was the best thing.

She thought she’d never write their break up.

“You read book 3: “Wind’s Ally”” Emma leans back in her chair, studying Belle right back. “You know their history.”

-/-

The sun is setting over the Manhattan skyline when she gets back to her apartment. She doesn’t know where she went after the meeting but her mind just got back to the present and she’s pissed.

“Wouldn’t we all like to know?”

-/-

Congratulations, Emma, you saved him...from ever having to care about you again.

-/-

She thinks of his face.

Three hours pass and all she has in a google doc is ‘why?’

-/-

Despite the first failure to launch, she finds she quite likes that library. She’s giving herself a pep talk this time, before she finds herself staring at a blank screen wondering why again.

The sound of the empire striking back stirs her from her thoughts. Regina gets the Darth Vader theme as a ringtone so Emma never forgets who really owns her career.

“Hey,” Emma answers as she reaches her apartment door.

“Right” she sighs. “What’s my money bringing me today?”

“There’s a point here.” Emma urges, feeling ill-fated all of a sudden.

“When?” She whispers.

“Which library?” because Fate is a nosy bitch and has no business showing up and guiding her to the man she ran from.

“Emma?”

“Which library”

“I think...if I recall correctly, his home base is in Harlem.”

“I’ll call you back.”

-/-

Her body had other ideas, because although she definitely meant to get on a train going the opposite direction, she found herself in Harlem 25 minutes later.

She sits in the middle of the library at an open table, clickity clacking as loudly as she can. Part of her really believes that maybe if she saw him, she’d remember why she left.

Another part is certain that masochism is her new favorite hobby.

He never appears.

-/-

“Hey” Emma answers her phone going off for the eighth time today.

“Emma?” Belle sounds more relieved than usual. “Where have you been, I’ve been calling non-stop since 3.” Emma rolls her neck to view the time on the DVR.

7:45 pm

“We had a meeting at 2:30.”

“Sorry.” She shrugs, because honestly, nothing even matters.

“I’m coming over,” Belle says decidedly.

“No, Belle, you don’t have to do that.” Emma regrets answering on the eighth attempt. “Let’s reschedule.”

“Are you okay?” She sets the pizza on the kitchen island and wraps Emma in a hug. Emma tries to pull her head far enough to keep her hair from wetting Belle.

“No, he didn’t.” She’s quick to dismiss. She scoured her missed calls for days looking for his name, he never called.

“How would you know, you never answer your phone, Emma.” She sits on a counter stool, tugging Emma to join her. “He’s going to be in every day next week, and I think…”

“No.” Emma cuts her off.

“Did he say anything else about me?” she hates the desperation gnawing at her.

“He asked me why…” Belle sighs “I told him we’ll all find out in book four.”

-/-

The office seems busier than it has ever been, many new, young faces bustling about. She keeps her features calm as she scans every inch of every room she enters for him.

“Emma?” Belle is hurried as she crosses the main floor to meet her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know.” Emma returns the hushed tone Belle is using. “I reworked some chapters, delayed the breakup, and gave more of Aly’s history.” and Belle nods, but is evidently not listening.

“He’s here.” Belle looks almost frightened. “So if you want to reconsider, I would do it now. Otherwise…”

“Killian.” She swallows. Her throat makes this awkward gurgling sound and she wants to melt into the floor. Why is she here?

“How are you?” She asks without thought. The look on his face is devastating.

“Sorry?” He mocks a laugh. “How am I?”

She’s not completely delusional. This is a thing humans say to one another, no? Why does it feel so foreign all at once, like she’s attempting English for the first time with a local?

“Killian” she sighs, releasing the most dizzying breath.

“I’m good” he grits, suddenly covered in constrained anger. “And you?”

And now they are strangers, all dressed up and nothing to talk about.

“Me?” Her tongue drags along her lower lip to buy time. “Good.” She nods.

“I’m just pleased everyone is good.” Belle smiles sweetly. “Now, Killian and I have a brief meeting, and afterward, if you’re still available, we can go over your rewrite.”

An exit strategy. This is quite possibly the only thing she could have hoped for.

She was always a fence, holding him back from the best parts of himself.

-/-

When the meeting concludes, Belle graciously thanks Killian for coming, makes promises of action, and attempts to say goodbye.

Killian, as good-natured and kind as he can be, has always had a persistently obnoxious side. He invites himself to the next meeting.

“This is only fair, Swan.” he smiles, though his eyes are full of darkness.

They regroup in Belle’s office after a bathroom break.

As much as Emma is dying on the inside, Belle looks absolutely disturbed by this. She can’t imagine the discomfort in being the third wheel of a breakup reunion.

“More of a what?” Killian’s breath is sharp as it floods in through his nose and out through his mouth. “What did she do to him?”

She’s not sure if it’s understanding she expects, or maybe gratitude, for saving him from the needy monster that she is. She knows neither is what she received.

“Did you ask Atlas, perhaps… perhaps that’s what made him happiest?” Killian’s eyes are drilling into her like nails, pinning her against a wall.

She is less.

Speechless, motionless, hopeless…

Less sure she did the right thing. Less firm on her decision. Just so much less than she was the day before.

There’s movement after a long pause, not by her, but Belle, gently setting the files down and moving to leave them alone.

“So you got yourself off the couch now.” Killian stands, eyes frantically scanning Emma from head to toe. “Well done, it only took the motivation of ending a relationship to do it.”

“I did it for you.” and she believes that, with everything in her, she left for his own good.

And all at once in the middle of the ocean, she can see Aly waking up all alone in the captain’s quarters, searching the whole damn ship for a man who did what the men she loves always do.

“I would have died miserable.”

-/-

The history she’s writing is hers and hers alone. When she was younger, when her heart was stolen and broken, when she always ended up alone. She was writing an escape plan.

She definitely does not want a husband though, or to be barefoot and pregnant, or…

Hold yourself together Emma, that’s always been your role.

Finally, an email came in.

Emma,

I’ve moved out. Everything I’ve left is yours…among the worn t-shirts you liked to sleep in and the novels we’ve collected over the years is my heart.

Goodbye Love.

“Emma,” Belle brings her back to the present after a very long, painful trip into her past. “Are you okay?”

Why is that word even used to describe how ‘good’ something or someone is?

“And that’s how it ends?” Belle hands her the folder back. “You can do better.”

-/-

“The concept of fiction isn’t a lack of reality, it just hasn’t happened exactly that way yet.”

“Don’t be afraid to use your own daily vernacular. It’s just as likely as any well-researched, powered by thesaurus dialogue, but it will come to you much more easily. That’s your voice.”

“Hi” she breathes. “Uhm…”

“Do you want to meet my junior author group?” He cuts in quickly.

“Hi.” She repeats, only this time her eyes travel across the young faces. “I’m Emma.”

“That I do.” Emma feigns a smile.

“Emma Swan” Killian begins, chest swelling “came up with the idea in a small town library.”

“Really?” another girl with wavy blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders asks.

Being alone again is terrifying. She doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Why does she always go looking for him? What does she want? How can they come out of this okay? What is okay?

“I was just looking for inspiration.” He nods.

“There are study rooms.” He adds, motioning in the direction she may find them. “My office is actually at a different location, or I’d…suggest…”

“Do you hate me?” it comes out without warning.

“No.” He winces. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s lying or because he wishes he were lying.

“Why not?” She asks. He flinches.

This voice within her tells her that it's no man’s job to do the work for her. Her walls are her own to remove.

He laughs, loudly.

She’s startled more that she laughs in return than questions it.

“You’re not troubled” she shakes her head but thinks back to every time he came home frustrated and sealed himself up before she could get a good glimpse of it. “Are you?”

And she sees the orphan in him the moment she realizes being left behind were his worst fears, too.

“You thought I’d leave…”

She considers the part about him looking forward to her book.

She doesn’t have a response and the seconds tick by. It only takes a few before they reach an awkward silence where one person makes an excuse to leave. And then when do they see each other again?

He’s the quick thinker. Always a come-back, a pun, a literary quote…

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you…” She opens her laptop nonchalantly, as if it won’t wound her for him to leave. “...a boy who loves you.”

Among the many novels they shared, “The Book Thief” was one of Killian’s most treasured.

He stares at her with wonder glazing his face. “If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.”

Maybe she’d burn every book in this library, for a chance to experience falling in love with Killian all over again, as if it weren’t a moment in history.

“My number hasn’t changed.”

-/-

His number has. She gets a text around 1am.

Are you up?

It's odd, because Killian isn’t a booty-call kind of guy, but who knows what a breakup can do to a man.

I rarely sleep before 2. Her phone rings moments later.

“Hello?” her tone sounds like a question, but she knows it’s him.

“Swan, it’s Killian.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m aware.” She can’t help but chuckle. Almost too elated that he’s on the other end. She can hear him laugh on the other end.

“Do you remember the first time we started speaking on the phone? You wouldn’t give me your number until maybe the 18th date.” She didn’t trust herself then. They took things so slowly.

“You know I like a clean getaway.” Is it too soon to joke about always having one foot out the door?

“What's the escape plan this time?”

“Probably the West Coast since you chased me here”

“I did not!” His laugh is vibrating against her ribs, setting the tempo for her heart.

Could it be easy all over again? One quote and he’s calling her? One call and they go see a movie? One date and…

And thinking about the end is how she got there, isn’t it?

“Did you plan on seeing me again? Knowing you were moving here?”

“Where else would I get inspiration. You’re my muse.”

-/-

She’s not sure if she should call it a date. He invites her to a scholarship meeting and sure, they’re dressed up, but because it's a business meeting. He talks to the team, Belle is in attendance, and she barely says a word.

Sometimes love is familiar, like a book you’ve read a dozen times. There’s comfort in knowing everything and loving it anyway.

-/-

They go over the recent chapters and Belle seems subtly impressed but she’s holding back. Emma knows it's Killian-related. She just knows she can’t pry without being pried open in return.

“You don’t like it?”

“We don’t.”

-/-

He’s walking her home after another fun night at a bar near her apartment. They’ve been casually seeing each other but nothing more than a kiss on the cheek or a hug goodnight has occurred. They get to her building in record time, too preoccupied by the conversation on who in Hollywood would make a handsome Captain Zeph.

“Johnny Depp doesn’t have blue eyes.” Emma laughs. “You can’t just pick the most popular actors, and he’s already a pirate in another franchise.” They’re at the doors of her building and his eyes are boring into her. “Do you want to come up?”

And maybe it's because they haven’t had a real kiss in what’s very close to being a year now, but he seems almost nervous.

“I’m afraid I miss you too much.” he scratches behind his ear and looks down the road. When he looks back at her he seems shy.

“Chris Wood,” she comments. She liked him on Supergirl. “Come upstairs.”

“Killian...”

“Your apartment isn’t ‘New York?’” it's so weird that they’ve never seen each other's place when they’ve seen each other's souls.

“I wanted you to keep them.” He starts to give them back when she waves her hand.

Her bed is covered in pillows dressed in his t-shirts instead of pillowcases. She keeps his cologne on the bedside table as if it were some expensive aromatherapy pillow spray. The blanket Granny from the local diner in Storybrooke made them lay at the foot of the bed, an anchor crocheted into the loops.

“Is this what you want?” Her response is to slip her dress over her head. Any questions to follow are puffed out in a husky tone against her ear.

Sometimes love is erotica, so she catalogs every second of it because nothing has ever happened quite like this before.

-/-

“I…” Robin’s face flushes, certainly not expecting her to speak so proudly.

So they stay in love.

-/-

#kenya writes #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #one shot #love is fiction #love is history #honestly #i forgot how to tag #I forgot everything #but I really plan on writing again #and I need to put myself out there #300 notes is a lot #oh this is definitely not beta'd #I own like ALL the mistakes and you know what #this might be one big mistake

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sp00kymulderr · 3 years

Text

Nosy writer questions:

Tagged by @keeper0fthestars, thank you darling!

Name: Jess

Fandoms: The uhhh... ppcu. Is that what we’re calling it? Honestly though it’s mainly just Prospect at this point.

Most popular one shot: Somehow, Akrasia

Most popular multi chapter: I only have the one on here - san valentín

Actual worst part of writing: Finding motivation to write. Coming up with a title.

How you choose your titles: I basically just choose between song titles from two of my favourite bands after about three hours desperately trying to come up with something more original.

Do you outline: Honestly not really. I’ve been trying to with the three multi-chapter fics I have coming up but I’m just better at getting an idea for a one-shot at 1am and posting it three hours later.

Ideas I probably won’t get around to but wouldn’t it be nice: Oh I’ve abandoned a lot of fics this last year lmao, mostly cause I lost drafts when my laptop stopped working before. But I guess a couple I would like to actually eventually write but probably wont:

- Love, Blood and Rhetoric aka the Actor!Ezra au

- Prospect & The Expanse crossover/Ezra x Bobbie x Reader threesome

- The remaining ‘in bloom’ drabbles

- Another Veracruz pwp fic

Callouts @me: oh hm I guess it’s the complete lack of confidence in my own skills huh. It’s gotten really bad ngl. Sometimes I re-read stuff that I was super ashamed of and deleted from here (from my previous fandom mainly) and think for a second ‘actually you’re a pretty decent writer’ and then my anxious brain kicks in immediately and goes ‘lmao you wish’. So yeah that maybe.

Best writing traits: Listen I know people have complimented specific things about my work before but my mind goes blank when I try to think of them. I think I can be good at getting across heavy emotions?

Spicy tangential opinion: I don’t have many of these tbh so I agree with Cindy about word count being included in fic posting. It helps a reader so much to know if they’ll have time to get through the whole fic then and there. And also fic writers should make sure their warnings are thoroughly tagged especially in nsfw because certain kinks can be triggering or uncomfortable for some people and that’s not really a surprise you want to have mid-fic. If you’re unsure, tag it.

Tagging @hansoulo @fleetwoodmac-tshirt @din-damn-djarin @hdlynnslibrary @justrunamok @filthybookworm

#tag game #writing tag game #long post

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cryo-lily · 4 years

Text

Scars (Part 1)

Well it took me over a year to finally start to post this, so no excuses just a meager hope that this is the start of more stories of Sole Survivor: Lily Cromwell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where did I put it…? Shit. I thought I-Ah! There you are!” Piper mumbled under her breath trying to find her key to Home plate that was somewhere in her coat pockets.

Lily had given her a spare key to Home plate a while ago but to Piper it was still a new feeling for her. Lily was always super protective of her, as she put it, “Scavver’s Paradise”. So it surprised Piper when Lily gave her the only spare key to her new house in Diamond city; Lily was there for about a week or two before she initially gave the key to Piper in case of an “emergency” and also because they were friends. But as time went by and when their relationship grew closer the excuse of emergency turned more into the truth, which was: Piper was one of the few people that Lily could trust with anything.

Piper finally fished out the key when her fingers felt the familiar metal of the key chain, even in the dim evening lights of Diamond City’s market the old key chain sparkled slightly. It couldn’t help but make her smile slightly every time she saw the half rusted witch key chain Lily found on one of their scavenging trips to her hometown of Salem. Lily wouldn’t out right admit it but Piper knew finding something so little from her past meant the world to Lily. That’s why it surprised Piper a bit when Lily gave it to her with the spare key; Piper tried to give it back knowing how much finding it meant to her. But Lily wouldn’t hear of it, she wanted her to have it.

Piper rubbed the old key chain between her fingers as she began to get lost in thought of recent memories, but shook her head quickly to snap her out of it. She was here for a reason. Nat was out at a friend’s house for the weekend to work on a project for school and Piper didn’t need a second invitation to use the opportunity to spend the weekend at Home plate with her girlfriend. So she decided to try and surprise Lily by quietly opening the far door of Home plate, easy enough assuming the coast was clear on that side of the house. Piper quickly and as quietly as she could unlocked the door with her half rusted key and let herself in. But not before quick poking her head to see if the coast was clear. No sign of Lily yet.

Upon closing the door Piper’s eyes adjusted to the even dimmer lights of the warehouse side of Home plate. Lily always was a Night owl and never really preferred too bright of lights on unless she needed to do something important, which Piper didn’t mind all too much. As Piper began to enter she noticed everything was mostly normal except all of the crafting stations and tools were noticeably used and strewn about a bit carelessly. Curiously besides most of the tools were some pieces of scrapped wood and some old half filled paint buckets with big black letters on them spelling “CHROME”. She wondered what new project Lily was up to this time as she passed by the small junk pile. This wouldn’t be the first time Lily found something along her travels that she wanted to fix up or tinker with, and it certainly wasn’t the last. With Lily though Piper knew it could be just about anything with her range of interests, and how easily she could be side tracked by the smallest things.

When walking out of the warehouse side of Home plate and toward the living area Piper dropped her backpack next to her desk Lily had given her in case she ever needed a quiet place to work on the paper away from Nat or whoever else. It was just as she left it, typewriter pushed to the back, various pencils, pens and paper strewn about everywhere, some of which were rough drafts for possible articles in the paper. Near the edge of then desk there was a half filled ash tray next to an opened pack of smokes lying on its side with one too many cigarettes to be considered empty and one lighter that desperately needed to be refilled.

“I really need to clean you one of these days...” Piper thought to herself as she sighed seeing her messy desk with some of her bad habits on full display.

Some of the more frustrating stories to write she worked on here where Piper had a bit more privacy than at home. She loved Nat with all her heart but Nat was still her little sister, and a nosy little sister at that; one that tended to take Piper’s personal journal far more than she’d ever like her to while she’s busy working. Which eventually led to Piper spent more and more time working there to focus on the paper when Nat was being a little too much for her to handle.

Carefully Piper crept up to the edge of the wooden floor where the living area began; she did not want to alert Lily just yet so it could be a little bit of a surprise. But before she rounded the corner Piper noticed Lily’s black jacket haphazardly thrown on the couch on top of a backpack with a Mintuemen patch that has seen better days. The entire house was unusually quiet and dim even by Lily’s standards, and something felt off Piper knew that much. Things around here were usually not this quiet, there was some music always playing weather it was from Diamond city radio or one of the many music holotapes that Lily had salvaged over time. But before Piper could round the corner to investigate further, a soft voice could be heard mumbling from the bedroom upstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jesus H... Look at her. Looks like she lost a fight with a Deathclaw-“ A distant voice faintly echoed in the back of Lily’s mind. “Or several Mirelurks…” Another voice joked in response.

Echoes of conversations Lily overheard that didn’t bother her at the time but ones that she wishes she could forget. But that didn’t stop her mind from dwelling on things she has overheard others have said about her over the course of her journeys up to this point. This was nothing new in her life, pretending not to overhear such comments made about her one way or another. Though Lily has learned to deal with it in her own ways, albeit in some unhealthy ways, but in the moments of quiet where her mind can wander freely was far from peaceful in recent times.

Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes as she tried to relax her mind. The last thing Lily needed right now was her inner critic using other’s words to fuel her own self doubt, she had enough problems with herself without more fuel added to that dumpster fire. Slowly her mind was quiet once more and she was left alone with her own thoughts once again. When she opened her eyes again she caught the gaze of her reflection again, the strange woman that she didn’t recognize looking back at her emotionlessly. The heavily scarred face staring back at her made Lily’s heart sank. Slowly her eyes began to wander down toward the floor away from the mirror the heavier Lily’s heart grew.

“Maybe fixing you up wasn’t the best choice…” Lily lamented to herself quietly as her eyes drifted towards the floor halfheartedly before looking over the mirror she recently salvaged again.

On a recent solo scavenging trip she had run into an old Victorian-style standing mirror in desperate need of repairs, normally with things like this most decent scavengers would ignore it for something that they could turn a profit on. Almost no one would waste their time with some half ruined piece of prewar furniture. And normally Lily wouldn’t bother either, there were better things to fix up that were more worthwhile. At the time though, the then broken mirror she found seemed to tug at some deep within her, as if it was from a distant memory. So she took the parts of the mirror she could manage to save with her back to Home Plate to be repaired.

As Lily was repairing the mirror earlier her mind couldn’t help but wander back to simpler times of childhood; times when Lily and her childhood best friend would play hours of dress up when they were younger in front of similar mirrors. Her Grandmother, Agatha, always had antique Victorian furniture like this mirror around the family estate, as if an old Victorian manor in the woods wasn’t enough for the creepiness factor in Salem, but that was Grandma Agatha’s type of humor though doubling down on things to get a rise or a reaction out of people. Sometimes Lily missed Grandma Aggie’s sense of humor a lot nowadays more than ever. While lost in her memories it didn’t take Lily long to repair the old mirror she had found, and though it didn’t look brand new it still looked like the best damn mirror she’s seen since her prewar days.

But there was no denying how haunted by the past she secretly was, as much as she tried to hide it. This led to a number of times where Lily became enamored with some seemingly random prewar relic. Ask any of her closest companions and even they couldn’t tell you the answer why. Lily never explained why to them because she thinks most of them wouldn’t understand, as much as she loves her closest friends. Perhaps Nick would understand in a way, but Lily tended to suffer in silence about how the echoes of her own past haunted her. Though only a small few of her friends got her to even admit she’s haunted by flashbacks of her prewar life which was one of the reasons why she became randomly attached to some prewar objects or relics, this mirror was no different.

Looking over the mirror again Lily began to wonder if restoring the thing to as it was even a good idea at this point. It was only amplifying her self-doubts that have been festering quietly under the surface for a long time now. Closing her eyes again, Lily took another deep breath to try and keep her more negative thoughts about herself at bay. The silence in Home plate was almost comforting until a voice coming from seemingly nowhere broke through the somber atmosphere. Lily’s eyes shot open at the sound of the voice that only breaks her heart hearing it again. The surroundings of Home plate seemed to fade away into the dark around her as the mirror itself began to look like it almost brand new or antique even, and the reflections of memories past now staring back at her in the mirror, almost taunting her with how real they felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lily stepped closer to the mirror checking to make sure she had her outfit in order, fixing her hair, making sure she didn’t have too much make-up on just yet. Lest her parents begin to wonder where she could possibly be going dressed up in such a way even on ‘All Hallows Eve’. Her parents were always too strict for their own good, wanting their ‘delinquent’ daughter not to ruin the family name in the town; despite the irony in their words. A voice began to call out from her bed across the room behind her.

“You can’t fuss in front of the mirror all day; it’s not like your parents will care either way if they catch us sneaking out again” the familiar voice echoed.

“Yea but if I keep up appearances they’ll be less likely to catch us, if you can keep your hands to yourself for more than five minutes-.” Lily smirked back at the brunette girl now leaning over Lily’s shoulder watching her fix her school uniform. The brunette smiled playfully in response as she began to slowly undo Lily’s shirt buttons from behind, which couldn’t help but make Lily laugh as she tried to playfully slap her girlfriend’s hands away. “Beatrice! Would you stop?! My parents could walk in and see us!”

“Then hurry up! We need pick up the others so we can get ready for our Halloween concert. Besides we both know we’ll need to change again away.” Beatrice responded a bit impatiently. “I already have the stuff we need packed and hidden in your car. We could make our grand escape right now! Your parents won’t even notice us leave… they’re too busy getting ready for the mayor’s Halloween fundraiser remember? You don’t need to over think this, we’ll be fine. We always are!”

Lily smiled even more as her girlfriend’s embrace turned from playful to more gentle and soft. Her impatience to break Lily away from her prison of a home life as often as she could was almost infectious. The two girls started to laugh once again after their eyes meet again in the mirror several times without either of them saying a word for what seemed like an eternity to them, before Lily gained the courage to break the silence between them after the laughter had died down.

“What would I do without you?” Lily leaned her head against the brunette’s, her smile melting away relaxed and contented.

“Lose sight of what’s important?” Beatrice coyly replied in return, playfully nudging her head against Lily’s.

“How can I when you’re stand right here?”Lily smiled back again warmly meeting her love’s gaze again before giving her a small peck on the cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh hey! You fixed up that mirror you found, it looks like you did a good job!” Piper suddenly chimed in as she wrapped her arms around Lily’s waist from behind.

Lily’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest as she was startled out of her flashback and her surroundings of Home Plate quickly faded back into view. The reflections of her past fading quickly away into the darkness again as her own reflection started to change slowly back to her present day self. Piper looked over her lover’s shoulder and noticed the solemn look on her Blue’s face as Lily tried to hide quickly wiping away some tears.

“What’s wrong?” Piper tried asking her in a comforting tone. Lily didn’t quite meet Piper’s eyes in the mirror. “You know you can tell me anything Blue.”

“It’s nothing…” Lily tried to evade the question, trying to avoid meeting the reporter’s eyes in the mirror. But she made the mistake of meeting Piper’s soft gaze for less than a second after she opened her mouth, which then turned the reporter’s soft gaze into more of a glare.

“What’s wrong?” Piper asked again firmly, letting go of her lover’s waist as she began to glare at Lily in the mirror. Piper hated it when Blue kept her emotions bottled up from her. She knew too well the toll that it takes on Lily’s mental wellbeing. Lily sighed heavily in response; the reporter always seemed to see right through her in times like these.

“It just-“ Lily began before seeing her reflection again and her heart grew heavy once more. Slowly she turned around and walked away from the mirror to lean against the nearby dresser, keeping her gaze locked on the floor. She didn’t have the heart to meet Piper’s eyes at the moment. “It’s just… The reflection has changed since I last remember.”

Hearing those words come from her Blue made the reporter’s heart ache. Surely there was more of an explanation behind this, and Piper intended to find out. Before walking over to Lily’s side Piper made sure to flip the mirror around so no more reflections could be seen. It seemed like the last thing Lily needed right now. Piper has helped Lily through some tough times before but she’s never seen her like this. Carefully the reporter walked in front of her lover to be face to face again.

“It seemed fine to me.” she causally said trying to lighten the mood, but received no response from the woman. Silence began to fill the air again the longer Lily didn’t reply. Looking over the woman who refused to meet her gaze Piper began to put the clues together. “Is this because of your scars?”

Lily closed her eyes tight trying to hold back more tears and avoid meeting Piper’s now concerned looking face. Her chest began to tighten the longer the silence went on and the harder it was becoming to stay silent around the reporter. Part of Lily still believing that she could handle this on her own while the other part also knowing she couldn’t handle this alone for long before it really started to effect herself, as if it hadn’t already. After what seemed like an eternity Lily finally gained the courage to meet her lover’s gaze.

Piper could now see Lily’s watery eyes trying to fight back tears as she finally looked up from the floor to meet her gaze. It almost broke her heart seeing Lily silently trying to deal with her emotional pain alone again. She wanted to say something, but before the reporter could do so her body instinctively embraced her Blue in a tight comforting hug. In the back of her mind Piper knew Lily would never outright ask for a hug, but at this point in their relationship she knew when Blue desperately needed one even if she didn’t say anything. Lily could feel the warmth from the reporter’s comforting embrace the longer it went on, and it wasn’t long before her heart finally gave in and meekly returned Piper’s hug.

Lily didn’t need to say anything in response; Piper knew the answer to her own question from Blue’s body language alone. This wasn’t the first time Lily had self-doubts grow from her ever changing appearance since entering the wasteland of the Commonwealth. But this was the first time Piper had seen it affect Blue so badly. Lily has always had a few scars since the day they met, Piper had on some level correctly assumed that said scars were something Blue had gotten in her prewar days, but the reporter didn’t press her lover on the subject. She knew Lily would tell her when the time was right. After what seemed like a long while, Piper was finally the first to break their embrace to say something.

“Did you want to talk about it?” The reporter pulled away from her to try and fill the silence between them; Lily not quite meeting her eyes again but nodded softly in response. “Okay, well how about you find a place to sit and I’ll get us something to drink. How’s that sound?”

“Okay…” Lily quietly replied as she moved away from the dresser to sit down on her nearby bed. “Maybe get some of the good rum from the fridge?”

“Of course, I’ll be right back.” Piper couldn’t help but smile at Blue’s sheepish request. Leaning over she gently placed both hands on either side of the woman’s face and gave her a long passionate kiss before breaking away to get their refreshments for the evening. The reporter smiled even more when she saw the slightest positive change in Lily’s glum expression.

Lily couldn’t help but smile a little herself after the kiss as Piper disappeared downstairs to procure their liquor for the evening. She wouldn’t lie, a nice cold bottle of rum sounded really good right about now after the depressing evening of doubting herself so far. As she waited Lily brought her legs up onto the bed so she could sit with her legs crossed, hands neatly folded while absent mindedly looking down at the hard wooden floor that made up part of Home plate’s upper level not really knowing what to do with her depressed self as she waited for Piper to return. But it wasn’t long before Piper came back upstairs with two large bottles of rum in one hand and a small plate of some Quantum Crunch doughnuts Lily had made not too long ago in the other hand.

“What no Fancy lads?” Lily couldn’t help but joke as the reporter handed her a bottle of rum.

“No, but I figured that these were more fitting for a relaxing night. Unless you don’t want them I can just throw them away.” Piper teased starting to slowly walk back down the stairs.

“What? No! I was just- Mmhm-“ Suddenly Lily was cut off by a doughnut being shoved partly in her mouth. Lily coughed slightly as she took a bite so she could respond again as the reporter laughed setting down the plate of doughnuts on the dresser before taking off her jacket to join Lily on the bed.

“At least you’re feeling a little better right?” Piper eyed Blue as she sat down to uncork her bottle of rum to take a sip.

“I’m getting there…” Lily followed suit opening her own bottle but taking a much larger chug from her bottle than the reporter. “You being here helps a bit… Helps keep my mind off of more depressing thoughts.”

“So, why is the mirror making you upset?” Damned if Piper wasn’t very perceptive of Blue’s emotions by now and very quick to the point when talking about them. “If this about your scars I don’t-“

“Why does it matter? I’m just a relic of the past… Relics get damaged all the time. It happens.” Lily said very dismissively, trying to avoid the reporter’s inquisitive gaze but to no avail. So she took another long nervous sip from her bottle of rum. But Piper saw right through her, she was avoiding the topic again.

“You do know it doesn’t matter to me, who cares what others might say? I like your scars. They tell so many stories. And I know every one of them.” Piper took another swig of rum herself without breaking eye contact with the woman sitting across the bed from her.

“Really… You know every one of the stories these fucking scars tell?” Lily looked at the reporter suspiciously not quite believing her. “There’s no way you know every single one of them. There- are too many…”

“It’s the truth; there are some things you don’t forget. And I know every single story your scars tell, even the ones not worth putting in the paper.” Piper very clearly meant every word she had just said.

“Even my prewar scars?” Lily asked raised an eyebrow half skeptically thinking she had finally stumped the reporter.

“Alright maybe I don’t know the story behind them yet but my point still stands.” Piper reached across Lily to grab a doughnut of her own, knowing exactly what she was doing. Out of the corner of her eye, Piper could see Lily blushing slightly while trying very hard, and failing, not to stare at the reporter’s cleavage showing from her tank top that she wore today; which couldn’t help but make Piper smirk as she sat back down after retrieving her sweet treat. “But I know how clearly painful it is for you to dwell on it so I have faith you’ll tell me that story in time when you’re ready.”

Piper was so patient with her, for all that Lily still kept hidden from her and she never pushed her to tell anything she wasn’t ready to. But as their relationship grew more intimate Piper knew she had to push a bit more sometimes just to get Blue to open up at all about her thoughts and feelings that she tended to keep bottled up far too often that was even healthy. And Lily didn’t mind all too much because she knew Piper meant well trying to help her cope with all the negative thoughts and feelings that have been building up for the longest time now. Stuff that she’d still refuse to acknowledge was a problem without Piper around. Lily was great at helping others manage their emotions, but horrible at handling her own; she’s been called cold-hearted and emotionless on more than one occasion because of it. Even then this was a very bad habit of Lily’s that on some level they were trying to overcome together.

“Okay then prove it Ms.Wright, what are some of the stories behind these fucking things?” Lily gestured to herself, still not quite believing her lover.

“You still don’t believe me do you? Fine. How about this, do even you remember how you got this one?” Piper responded by half lifting Lily’s t-shirt to reveal her toned abs, and numerous other scars. But Piper gestured to one scar in particular near Lily’s left hip, along with a few other nasty deep scars that was ever so slightly darker in color compared to Lily’s pale skin.

Lily couldn’t help but blush slightly as Piper just nonchalantly lifted up her shirt to start poking various scars she was referring to on her lower abdomen. At this point in their relationship Piper and Lily were well past knowing every inch of each others’ bodies. But Lily was still caught off guard by Piper’s sudden gesture to prove her point. And it took a good portion of the reporter’s will not to stare at Lily’s abs more than necessary, she had a point to make to this woman and she was going to fucking prove it. Lily had become too self conscious about herself in recent months and Piper wanted to change that.

“I…” Lily couldn’t find the words to respond to Piper as she almost seemed to stare straight through Lily waiting for a response. “It’s from… that one time we were the only ones to respond to a settlement’s call for help.”

“So you do remember. And here I thought you had gotten so reckless at the time that you perhaps forgot when you even got it.” Piper let go of Lily’s shirt as she smiled at the woman.

“That… Doesn’t happen all the time...” Lily blushed a bit more as she tried to fix her shirt as the reporter smiled at her with an almost shit-eating grin.

“Then please, do tell what you remember. And I’ll tell you if you even remember it properly” Piper laughed slightly before taking a long smug sip from her bottle of rum.

“Well for starters it was back during my vault suit days-“ Lily started to reminisce ignoring the reporter’s sly smirk at the mere mention of that damned vault suit.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout 4 oc #fo4 oc #Piper Wright #Lily Eleanor Cromwell #sole survivor #sole survivor x piper #Lily writes some stuff #more proper tags added later as I think of them lol #Hey part 1!!#I wasn't lying when I said I was working on it!#I just hit a creative brick wall of writers block lmao

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eerythingisshaka · 5 years

Text

Will the Bell Ring? Pt. 6

[Erik Killmonger x Black!OC]

Word Count: 6.7K

A/N: I am now inspired to write again because a tweet said that Disney+ had hella issues on the date it dropped and 10 million people still stuck around to watch it. I’m taking that same energy with me.

“Mara, I won’t ask you again.” Erik says sternly. Kimara looks around casually, glad that they are at least located in a public place...though he still doesn’t seem to care.

“MARA!” Erik barks.

“Don’t cause a scene! Damn, you have absolutely no common sense!” She hisses as an elderly white couple looks away and walks faster down the path. A breeze starts to pick up in the air, causing the treetops to dance in the distance.

“Really? All I got is common sense when I hear you tryna pull a fast one on me. And to bring someone I respect in on this, that’s fuckin low!”

Kimara adjusts her seating on the bench as the metal digs into you thigh meat. “Respect?? Oh please, you were just knocking him on some petty shit last week! And I didn’t mean to! Ok? I’m sorry!”

“For what? I need specifics, lay out the entire situation for all the other nosy white folks walkin round the park today. They wanna see someone act a fool, I’ll give it to them if you keep pussy footin around.” Erik leans back on the bench, spreading his chest wide with pride as he stares her down. She can’t stand him.

Kimara lets out a sigh, laying one hand on his inner thigh for extra focus. “I am sorry...for putting you through so much pain and agony. I know how much the relationship means to and I shouldn’t have put it in danger by getting myself involved without talking to you first. And even then, I should’ve known better. I couldn’t even enjoy it without thinking about you and what you would think. So...never again. I promise.”

Erik scratches his chin, bouncing his leg before dipping his head down to look at Kimara over his fake gold rimmed eyeglasses with matronly contempt. “Long as you learnt never to watch Euphoria without me, we good.”

Kimara squeezes his leg, letting out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God. You really bout to cut me over Fez and Rue huh?”

Erik sits up, clapping his hands together. “They are the true OTP if I ever seen one. They ain’t even gotta be intimate or whatever, just the fact that someone been through her journey and is now doing everything to help clean her up while the forces of small white town bullshit enable her is...poetry dawg.” Erik leans back shaking his head in awe.

“Babe, you are sappier than a maple tree in the summertime.” Kimara shakes her head, the loveliness of their conversation filling her head like a delicious fog she didn’t want to ever see the end of, but Erik’s lunch break was almost up.

Erik kisses her softly, making Kimara wipe the transfer of her gloss off his lips.

“Uh uh! Don’t worry bout all that baby. If that shit makes your lips as good as I like, I could use some too.”

“You so stupid!” Kimara cackles as they both get off their bench and walk side by side: his hand on her hip, her arms locked around his waist with one ear to his chest.

“This was nice.” Erik says distantly, more to himself than to her.

Kimara cranes her face toward his. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah, just to not think about any of the bullshit we’ve had to deal with, enjoy God’s creations out here in the gentrified park. I feel like a damn retiree with stock and bonds and 401K real fat.”

Kimara settles in step with him again. “But you have all those things…”

“But I ain’t retired! White America don’t want a nigga to retire. Swear everything would go belly up if Black folks could live off of the fruits meant for them. They’d burn the whole damn thing down before that would happen.”

Kimara rubs his back to settle him. “Peaceful thoughts, remember?”

Erik’s chest expands and caves. “Aight. But real life is literally around the corner, so as much as I would like to have you in my office, I got shit to take care of.” Erik takes her chin and lifts her face up to his. “My Mara, My Mara…”

“...I’ll never be farther.” Kimara says with only slight embarrassment beause their little saying is so damn cute. Erik used to do cute rhymes with her name around the quad whenever she got down on herself or he thought he had her on the ropes to giving in to him. Rarely worked, but constantly appreciated. “I gotta go get some extra stuff for our dinner party later this week, so hopefully I won’t be too long at the studio. We got a new artist laying down a demo that should be pretty fire.”

Erik puts a fist to his mouth excitedly. “Oh worm? Finally my lady finna be the new M-M-M-Maybach Music!”

Kimara rolls her eyes. “I’ll be more than that! I got about two songs on there I’m getting writing credit for. I may wind up on the radio and you don’t even know it. But you’ll know them checks!”

Erik couldn’t smile harder if he had hooks in his mouth. “Your passion got you going off! Nothing wrong with it either, you deserve it. It’s been a long time coming.”

“It has. So, go on so I can make this deal happen.”

They locked fingers until distance forced them to break their grip. Erik waves off Kimara as she saunters up the path to the main road. His chest swelled with pride over his lady, she’s always been one of a kind. Her happiness is his happiness, without question. As he walked away, across the exquisitely decorated post modern/art deco lobby, to the elevator to the 33rd floor to his office, a cloud of dread weighed back on him that only got better with the help of Alaina. If she wasn’t his partner on this revamp project with Boeing, he’d be shitting himself on a regular.

Erik walks by a conference room, stopping short of turning the corner of the glass walls. He opens the door and peeks inside to see his friend hunched over a laptop, jumping slightly in her seat as he came across the room towards her.

“Damn, Erik! Why do your big ass feet step so lightly? Almost gave me a heart attack!” She breathed out a ragged sigh of relief.

Erik pulls out a chair to sit down, chuckling at her expense. “My bad, I just had to come in when I seen you slaving away in here. Figured you could use a distraction.”

Alaina smooths her hair back in her bun, her nude colored mouth in a tight, closed smile.

“I WISH you were a distraction for me, but unfortunately this involves the both of us. While you were on break, Asshole and Son recommend we draft a final proposal for the FAA to approve.”

Erik sat shocked. “What? Fuck, I mean that’s fucking crazy but kind of exciting too, right?”

She wags her finger. “Don’t forget we are only the field niggas round here. It sounds like an honor but in the end I am sure little Leave it to Beaver will be taking all the credit his daddy can send his way in order to keep the big wigs in good graces within the family.”

Erik taps his fingers on the deep wooden table, thinking. Would they really double cross him that far? Bringing him in on a project to mentor the bosses son only to pull the rug up under him and make him look like player two?

“That’s so damn white, sounds right.” Erik sighs in somewhat disbelief.

Alaina shrugs. “Told you. And until I hear it from him otherwise, that’s what I’m going to assume.” Alaina sighs and stretches her shoulders before going back in on the keyboard.

Erik furrows his brow. “If that’s it, then why are you still working on it? Don’t you wanna pack up and move on? You were brought here special for this, your time is wasted the most.”

Alaina’s eyes cast a ‘nigga please’ gaze on Erik. “Mr. Future Baby Fava, I think our time has been equally wasted. But guess what isn’t cut for my time here? My pay: which is double what I make at my primary while I’m here so…” She slowly leans over to grab Erik’s wrist. “...until I hear the fat white man sing, we’re gonna work on this project for as long as we can to milk that cow til it lays a golden goose egg and rolls the tortoise to the finish line!”

Erik scoffs. Alaina’s antics are half the reason Erik can’t quite distance himself from her. She has a liveliness that he’s kind of missed lately. “Man, you a trip and a fifth. But I like your style. Might as well get it done then.”

“Oh fuck that, I’m done for the day.” Alaina crisply closes her laptop, packin it under her arm and grabbing her case with the other.

“Whatchu mean? I thought you said-”

“I worked through my lunch, like a boss ass bitch does. You gotta work yours off, so Imma leave you to it. Call me if you bleeding out your ears from stress: no less than that.”

Erik rolls his eyes as he gets up and watches her walk away. The woman is working his last good nerve on purpose, but he likes it. The job isn’t as boring or predictable with her around. Now he just has to show her who the superstar has been all this time. If he works hard at this, it won’t be for these fat cats, it’s gonna be a bonafide competition and he ain’t scared to fight a girl.

—

At the studio, Kimara finishes up a session with a local up and coming artist named Delilah. Sweet girl, comes across very introverted until a mic is in front of her. Kimara appreciated her vibes and talent, baby girl is on trend so long as she stays cute she is bound to be noticed. Kimara ends their session a little early, wishing her well when it was time to wrap.

Kimara felt like the studio was her second home most of the time but today she had to get to her real home REAL quick to get dinner prepared. Tonight is the double dinner date with T’Challa and his boo of the moment. She kept trying to get ahold of Erik for help with ingredients but he kept leaving her on read.

Rick, the studio owner caught Kimara before she was able to get out the door.

“Hey Rick I know I cut things early, but I don’t have a lot of time unfortunately. I have dinner to take care of tonight with some friends that is so damn important, you wouldn’t believe.”

Rick smiles a large proud papa smile. “Oh I won’t keep you, but this news might. Remember Peter Gafflin? Legendary alternative rock/country artist extraordinaire who really love you last time y’all were in the booth together.”

Kimara couldn’t forget that man from their last session. She hadn’t been exalted for her talent that highly since Petey Pablo came in that one time and promised her name would be on a Freek A Leek remix.

“Yeah, what about him?” She asks.

Rick could not help his smile to save his life. “He called me up earlier today, saying he is planning to go on the road soon.”

“Yeah, yeah. That happens often when you drop a new album.” Kimara says impatiently.

“Right. So he was thinking that you would hopefully be available to join him for some shows on his North American leg of the tour.”

Kimara stood there like the Men In Black just wiped her memory. “Are-are you serious? When? How? What would I do??”

“He wants you to SING for him like you did that day, background vocals and he thought a duet portion would be nice too. You know the song ‘Boys Aren’t Born on Tuesdays?’”

Kimara clutches her chest. “Oh my God, that song is so rich. And he wants ME to sing it with him?”

“Uh huh!’ Rick slaps her arm in congratulations, but Kimara could barely feel anymore.

“In front of thousands. Across America...oh my God!”

Rick and Kimara hug excitedly, so much so that Rick has to wipe his eyes a little. “So is that a yes?”

Kimara stopped cheering to finally think a little. “I mean, I don’t know. If this was any other time I would say yes, but...I have some obligation here. I’m deep into trying to start a family and settle a little.”

Rick makes a face of pity. “I understand, I know. And I hope you do get that. Just…”

“Just…” Kimara parrots.

“...it’s Peter Gafflin.”

“It is Peter Gafflin.” Kimara says disheartened. She had been waiting for years to get something off the ground with a top tier artist, but the universe had a funny way of timing.

“Did I mention how much pay is?” Rick muses.

Kimara fans herself with a newspaper as she watches the rolls baking in the oven. She is so thankful to have gotten dessert from the bakery, because she was over it with cooking. She checks her phone for the time: ten minutes til 7. Her notifications show nothing from Erik yet, though she texted him twice today reminding his to not forget them hosting T’Challa and his girl. Twice, Erik texted that he’s got her, but that was five hours ago, now who knows what the hell he is up to. It would be perfect to bring up her good news with him in front of T’Challa and his date, while he smiles up at her with a hand inconspicuous and possessively on her behind...

But the light and fluffy feelings for the evening were quickly dwindling. Before she could send a last threatening text to convince him to bring his ass, the doorbell sounds at the last sentence. Kimara curses out loud, grabbing her oven mitt to take out the rolls that are a perfect golden brown. She dabs her brow with a spare dinner napkin before clopping her way to the door.

Opening it with a flourish, Kimara opens her arms in excitement.

“You made it!” She says with a cheery song.

T’Challa looks at her fondly, his mouth slowly curling into a smile. Kimara warms up to seeing her friend at her doorway.

“I was going to say it has been too long, but time moves backward for you. You look beautiful.”

Kimara places a hand on her hip for emphasis, trying to withhold her joy in his compliment in the worst way. “Oh please, it hasn’t been that long. You cleaned up good too.”

Kimara always enjoyed the way T’Challa dresses like royalty without even meaning too, choosing pieces that elongate his lean body, squaring his wide shoulders to create a proud presence.

T’Challa places a hand to his date’s lower back. “Iman has been looking forward to this night all week.”

A smiling Iman holds out a bottle of Proseco. “T has told me so much about you and your husband. You all seem to be a pretty tight family.”

Kimara takes the chilled bottle and leads them inside. “Oh yes. We have all known each other for so long, I can’t imagine not having known them.”

Placing the bottle on the table, Kimara claps her hands anxiously. “So I have prepared us a nice little salad and a pork...uh...pasta ” Kimara’s mind goes blank trying to remember what it’s called, she had only Googled the recipe that day. Tapping her foot, fidgeting, Kimara gives up. “Hell, some type of pork and spaghetti with peppers and shit. It’s got cheese too, it’s good. LEGGO!”

T’Challa and Iman chuckle as they head to the dining room. “Well whatever it is it smells great! I know your man must be fat and happy living with you.” Iman gushes, pulling out her chair to sit at the table.

Kimara shakes her head humbly as the unwraps the foil on the proseco. “Lucky for me, he is pretty active at the same time so it sticks in the right places. If only he could actually BE in the right places when we schedule things that way. Oh shit, lemme find a cork opener.”

Kimara rushes into the kitchen slamming drawer after drawer looking for the elusive corkscrew. She slams the bottle down a little too hard in frustration and hears the vibration of her phone on the counter next to her.

“Do you need assistance, Kimara?” T’Challa’s steady, gentle voice says behind her. She turns to see his concerned face looking down at her, hands firmly planted behind him respectfully.

Kimara waves her hand in frustration. “Aht aht! It’s fine, don’t leave Iman alone in there!”

“She is fine. Are you?” He asks quietly while opening a cabinet above the sink.

Kimara opens her phone to look at her notification. “Been better. Rather not talk while I’m supposed to be entertaining you guys.”

“But-”

Kimara puts her phone down hard. “RAGU! It was a pork ragu! With basil fettuccine, ugh! DUH!” Kimara turns to see T’Challa holding the corkscrew in his hand.

T’Challa continues, ignoring her topic change. “You should let me know if he isn’t being good to you.”

Kimara takes the corkscrew in one hand, bottle in the other trying to maintain her blood from boiling. “No I don’t. I would discuss that with my husband.”

“And he is where?” T’Challa asks calmly as Kimara walks past him and back to the table.

“God, what a help your beau is, we can finally have a much needed sip sip, eh?” Kimara exclaims a little too happily, sitting at the table as she drills the corkscrew in.

T’Challa opens the glass serving dish to examine dinner. “This smells very good, I will fix a plate for you, Iman.”

“No! I should serve you, Mr. King! Move your hand from that spoon.” Iman gets up, swinging her hips happily from side to side, digging the serving spoon into the delicious mix of sauce, noodles, and meat.

T’Challa gives a shy smile. “I appreciate it greatly, thank you.”

Kimara jerks the corkscrew out of the bottle too hard, knocking the handle against the table, causing T’Challa and Iman to look at her with shock.

“Pop goes the weasel, right?” Kimara giggles as she pours a third of the bottle into her glass, half an inch from the brim. She takes ahold of her glass, taking a few hearty gulps.

“So! Tell me how are things with you all, still in the honeymoon phase?”

Iman finishes off her plate, settling in to eat. “Well, I wouldn’t say that. Me and T are still kinda getting to know each other still, so I think honeymoon phase is a little too soon to call,” she says as she nervously scratches the back of her head as T’Challa just keeps on eating.

Kimara starts to feel warm, keeping mental note that the fucking must’ve halted between them. “Well there’s no need to rush at all. Relationships are so much damn work, it must be nice to cuddle up to a stranger every so often.”

Iman offers some wine to T’Challa who declines. “Have things been going well at the studio? Recording?”

“Oh yeah, more than recording actually. Sure, I just wish that I had the gumption to pull the trigger on doing some of my own shit. I got a lot of praise from artist and even the owner of the studio; I’ve known him a long time. But when it all comes down to it I just wonder what’s the point. That’s all gonna change soon though, no worries about me!”

Iman pouts with sympathy. “What do you mean?! You are a damn good looking lady and to have talent enough that people brag about, you gotta do something with it while you’re young and able!”

“I know I’m young and able. Well, I’m trying to start a family while I’m still young and able too.” Kimara mumbles, slumping in her chair.

“Oh! You are? Congratulations! From what little I remember from the night I met T, he seemed like a handsome guy with a good head on him. If he hadn’t brought us home, we may not be seeing each other now.” Iman’s hand disappear under the table to presumably T’Challa’s thigh, who looks over at her with kind eyes. “And that reminds me of your story. So T here got you and your husband together. What are the details on that?”

Kimara is two sips from the bottom of her glass. “Ohhh, that’s not dinner conversation unfortunately.”

Iman makes eyes at her. “Oooh, that scandalous huh? We all adults here, but I understand. Me and T weren’t very biblical our first night meeting so, hey.”

T’Challa wags a finger. “It’s not that, don’t be crass.”

Iman tuts at him. “I’m just being friendly, what’s the issue.”

“It’s a personal story. It should wait until Erik is here at least.” T’Challa offers.

Kimara puts her glass down, plate still empty or any dinner. “I don’t wanna bring that nigga up here anymore tonight, aight?”

Iman freezes mid bite as T’Challa sits up in his chair. “Kimara, please-”

“Uh uh! I’m in my house, I say what I want, I won’t be talked down to. Iman?”

Iman is still frozen.

T’Challa speaks up. “I’m just saying-”

“I’m talking! Iman? My husband and I have been trying to have a baby for months now, fucking like rabbits and I have yet to get pregnant. It’s gotten so I think he;s getting tired of fucking with me and now he is out ‘working late’. Now, he loves me because we have been through a lot to get to the point of being a married couple and he has had to prove himself loyal to me after...a lot of bullshit. But I ain’t got it in me to discuss play the Newlywed Game with you cuz hell if I know what my husband is up to anymore.”

T’Challa gets up from his chair abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor, stomping towards the kitchen.

Kimara starts to laugh out loud. “Oh shit, I think he’s pissed! Ohh, let me see what this is about…”

Iman sits up anxiously. “Do you need help?”

“No, no! I got him, he’s very reserved with his frustrations, so I can deal.” Kimara stomps into the kitchen. “Now what is up with you??”

T’Challa takes a towel off of a rack, folding it twice. “Did you need to unload on her like that?”

Kimara leans on the counter. “Sure, woman to woman. She seems to appreciate it.”

T’Challa opens the oven door, a plume of smoke billows out.

“Fuck! Oh noooo, my rolls!” Kimara exclaims, running to a window to open and fan out the smoke.

T’Challa puts the baking sheet to the sink. “I was trying to tell you I smell smoke.” He tossed the towel down making the sheet clang.

Kimara fans her face, coughing. “Oh, shit. I just forgot.”

“Mhm. You forgot your head this evening that’s certain.”

“What do you mean by that, T??” Kimara asks mockingly.

T’Challa glares at her. “If things weren’t going good, we could’ve rescheduled.”

“It’s funny you think I plan for my life to fall apart, cuz that is how it works right?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No, no one means to hurt my feelings or make me feel like shit until it happens. You want me to be the perfect host. Erik wants me to be a good wife and mother when I can’t even get a bun in the ov-” Kimara stops short of the sentence. T’Challa hangs onto silence waiting for her to finish.

“T’Challa, what if this is all a sign? I burnt the rolls in the oven...because I can’t keep a bun in the oven? Like pregnancy? I can’t bake anything!!” Kimara wails as she covers her mouth crying. T’Challa goes over to her but stops short as Iman enters the kitchen.

“Hey, if everything is under control, I might head out.”

T’Challa looks back at Kimara then Iman. “Well, let me call you a ride.”

“Already did. Kimara, dinner really was good, I’m sorry to leave so soon.”

Kimara has her back turned, wiping her face before facing her. “Thank you for coming. You’re as nice as I heard.”

“I will walk you out then.” T’Challa offers as they leave Kimara in the kitchen. Her phone begins to ring, as she picks it up to find Erik’s name glowing on the screen. All she can do is silence it, she was in no mood to talk, otherwise she might have to make a Lemonade album about it.

Kimara goes back to her dining room table, sitting down to the bottle of wine. T’Challa comes back in, closing the front door behind him.

“Eh, eh. Put that down. Eat something instead.”

Kimara groans as she swallows one more gulp from the bottle before getting it snatched from her hand.

“I’m not feeling your vibes T’Challa, honest.”

“Vibes? Do you hear yourself talking?”

“Yeah I do. That’s all I ever hear is my damn self.”

“You are not supposed to be drinking while planning a family, aren’t you?” T’Challa asks softly, sitting next to her.

Kimara sighs deeply. “I’ve done everything right. All I’m supposed to do is carry, I can’t even get there. God, I would kill for even a miscarriage, just to know that I didn’t completely fuck up my reproductive system!”

“STOP IT!” T’Challa’s voice booms between them, reverberating off the walls. Kimara sits upright, looking away from T’Challa’s face. His energy calms as he leans a little further towards her.

“You do not deserve to beat yourself up like this. Do you realize how far you’ve come in life from when I first met you to now? There is no one as smart or witty or brilliant as you that I can also put faith in as a friend.”

Kimara fidgets with her fingers. “Good thing Iman isn’t here to hear that.”

T’Challa sits back, taking a swallow of wine from the bottle himself. “I won’t edit my statement, but she is a nice girl.”

“I still like Nakia better.” Kimara says matter of factly.

T’Challa bristles at the name, looking into the distance. “Yes, I guess she is my kryptonite, however too flighty.”

They sit in silence for a beat.

“What about that night? What did it mean?” Kimara asks.

T’Challa’s brow furrows. “Which do you…”

“A few weeks ago? My car?” Kimara rubs her face roughly. “Ughh, I hope it’s not the wine talking but I swear there was a moment that felt like...a thing. Am I wrong?”

T’Challa does something he does not always do: he begins to stutter. It’s slow, without the skip, but a stutter nonetheless.

“I...Well...hmm,” He says before his mouth motions wordlessly.

“...T?” Kimara asks teasingly. “It’s ok!”

He looks her in her eyes intensely, like she just cursed him out. “Huh?”

Kimara shrugs. “We didn’t do anything so it’s ok. Don’t sweat. That’s why I’m glad we are friends cuz I know nothing bad happens when you’re around. No craziness, drama, you just bring me back down to earth with a good talk. It was just a moment. Gotta remember that.” Kimara pats his knee and gets up.

“Wait, so were you thinking of me in a way that night?”

Kimara sees a light flash across the curtains of her window. “Well, look at this. Daddy’s home.” Kimara comes back to the table to pick up plates. “T’Challa go ahead and have a good night. You don’t wanna be here when I’m throwing dishes into the sink until Erik comes in and has the nerve to ask what the fuck is wrong with me. When the whole nigga nerve of it all is that he would have the gall to think I’m wrong to begin with!”

T’Challa waves his hands heading for the door. “I am already gone.”

The early morning sun is extra bright as erik drives himself and Kimara to see their regular fertility specialist Dr. Tracy.

“I’m glad she was able to see us today.” Erik says.

“Are you?” Kimara asks while scrolling through her phone.

Erik scratches himself. “Ion know, I just…”

“What?”

“I mean...if we do this it’s like cool, we finna get a baby off top-”

Kimara tuts at him. “No! She said that it still isn’t guaranteed. We are good candidates but not to expect success right away.”

Erik lets out a groan. “Right, right. Can’t no shit come easy for me.”

Kimara looks at his profile as he drives, catching Erik looking out the corner of his eye. “What you lookin at me like that for?”

Kimara crosses her arms. “I’m just trying to figure out what to title your sob story in all of this. ‘I do what I want and when it don’t go like I plan I pout?’ Or ‘Fuck everything and everyone, I’m going through it but don’t ask me what’s wrong?’”

“Damn Mara! The fuck you gotta go there for? The minute I try and share something with you, you bite my fucking head off!”

“Watch yourself cursing at me! I ain’t in the mood for it, and I ain’t letting it fly like that today, ok? I don’t need this much excitement before an appointment.”

“Then don’t go nuts on me like you some damn comedian, roasting my ass. I’m here ain’t I?”

“Do you not wanna be?!” Kimara shrieks.

Erik goes silent, turning on the click of his turn signal. The tension in the car is sky high and although Erik doesn’t mind a fight, he knew not to act a fool in front of these doctors in this side of town.

Kimara leads inside to check in with the receptionist. As they sit in the lobby, Erik is glued to his phone the entire waiting period, fingers texting furiously.

“Why ain’t you holding my hand?” Kimara asks. “You always hold it while we wait.”

Erik looks over quickly and leans back offering out his hand. “My bad.” While the other continues to work double time on his screen.

“Who is...Alan?”

Erik jerks his phone back. “It’s not Alan.”

Kimara drops his hand. “Than who is it?”

“Work.” He says curtly, flipping to his Instagram instead.

“Is something wrong with the project you’re working on? Is Alan the one helping you?”

“Yes and no.” Erik says.

“Wait. It is wrong and Alan isn’t helping?”

“It’s not Alan!” Erik bellows before coughing to cover his outburst.

“Kimara?” Dr. Tracy says brightly with a smile, waving them back. Kimara smiles tightly back.

In her office, Dr. Tracy goes over the procedures and preparations for IVF, with all of the medical jargon, followed by some generous simplified explanation. It all sounded complicated and expensive but Kimara was grateful to hear about everything that could make her miracle possible.

“And Erik, you can be an awesome support by making sure to watch your alcohol intake, exercise, eat healthy, and avoid any environmental pollutants.”

“I was bout to watch that Chernobyl show; is that off the table now?” Erik asks.

“Erik, you ain’t got time for shit else, quit playing.” Kimara says with a little bark in her voice.

Erik laughs in a menacing tone. “Ok.”

Dr. Tracy looks between them nervously. “...we also provide counseling to couples during the process, as it can be difficult.”

“I wouldn’t mind it, but he wouldn’t be able to make it.” Kimara says.

“Oh you speak for me now?”

Kimara shrugs. “If you ain’t there, how else can things go forward?”

Erik sputters in disbelief. “I won’t be getting like this in front of the damn doctor. Thanks, doc. I got the prescription and shit, let’s go.” Erik keeps talking under his breath as he leaves the office. Kimara gets up to leave

“Is everything ok between you two?” Dr. Tracy asks.

Kimara hesitates before saying it’s fine, nothing more than a couples spat. Erik may have been right about needing to change doctors. At least a new one wouldn’t know when things were wrong. This would just look like a normal interaction to fresh eyes.

Back at their house, Erik is reading the instructions for her shots.

“Says this supposed to help in producing eggs for you. Still gonna take a while though.”

Kimara sits silent watching her shows.

“Remember to mark down when you got your period last. Supposed to start doing these on your next cycle.”

Silence.

Erik folds the instructions up, standing from the dining room table. He comes up behind the couch, leaning next to Kimara’s ear.

“Nassau is this weekend, you know?” SIlence. “You picked us a real good spot to make our own magic down there. I think we need it.”

“WE need a lot more than a trip to an island. Erik, you still ain’t said sorry for a damn thing you said to me today.”

Erik scooches to one side of Kimara to face her. “What should I apologize for?”

“Embarrassing me? Not telling me about what’s going on with you and also not asking how things are with me? Being secretive and mean to me?” Kimara’s eyes begin to well up. “You ain’t talked to me without walking off mad in so long, I don’t wanna get used to it Erik! You didn’t used to do that!” Erik hooks one leg followed by the other over the back of the couch to sit next to Kimara, holding her hands tight.

“It makes me think about before you left for that damn military out the blue. You snapped on me back then too. You tryna go somewhere else again?”

“Hell no! That life is behind me, I got nothing but you and work to get through now.”

“So I’m a damn task?” Kimara mopes.

“No! Look: I don’t mean to say anything to make you think you boring because you’re not. You’re the most exciting thing in my life, and I love having you with me. Every time I’m reminded you’re my wife, I’m thinking how we should be on our damn tenth wedding anniversary instead of third. But I’m done and thankfully you’re not.”

“Then why are you doing me like this?”

“I-I don’t wanna force shit on you more than you can handle. I got things happening at my job right now that could make you think the worst, but I promise it’s not. And you don’t need that pressure right now.”

“Neither do you!”

“I can handle it. You focus on your dreams at the studio, and getting ready to host the biggest headed baby your womb will ever know.”

Kimara snorts thinking about this, looking down instinctively. Erik takes one side of her face in his hand.

“I wanna be more open but I don’t wanna cost you anything too. So until shit blows over, just know I got this. Be patient with me, and I promise to be more patient too.”

Kimara pulls Erik to her for a longing kiss, rubbing his face for comfort. She could feel he cares, but there was still so much gnawing in her mind, she just wasn’t ready to discuss. But there was one thing.

“One more thing though, before I call it forgiven and get to packing for the trip.”

“You still ain’t packed?”

“I’m asking the questions! Who is Alan?”

Erk sighs, dipping his head down before looking her in the face to answer. “Alaina.

“He’s a what?”

“Huh? No, Alaina. The name was Alaina not Alan.”

Kimara’s face draws up inquisitively. “And...she is?”

“My partner for the project I’m working on. They recruited her from another region and-”

“That’s who you spent the night with instead of dinner with T’Challa and me and his girl?” Kimara asks.

“I came home! Don’t make it sound like that, it was a late night. Ole dude I work for keeps piling shit on me and deadlines-”

Kimara waves her hands in front of him. “It’s fine.”

“Huh?”

“It’s ok!” Kimara smiles. “Seriously, I trust you. You said works been beating your ass, and I know you wouldn’t be looking all sour if you were getting some ass on the side, so I think I can trust you aren’t cheating.”

Erik stared at her speechless before nodding and agreeing.

“Plus, we tryna have a baby and I know you wouldn’t mix shit up with her when all that seed is mine, like that would be wasteful.”

Erik growls in his chest, leaning over her, nose to nose. “Say that again.”

Kimara holds back her smile, rubbing his chest. “Your seeeed is miiiine. Don’t waste it.” Kimara bites his lip at the end of ‘it’, catching him of guard, but not enough to lay her out legs spread quicker than she could blink.

“Wait wait, Erik. I can’t!” Kimara says, half giggling.

“Whatchu mean?? You playing with a dog and get afraid when you get the bark? Quit playing and get them draws off.” Erik pulls at her bottoms.

“No! Wait! I mean it, I’m cramping and shit. I don’t want nothing near my pussy right now.”

Erik moans out loud in frustration, plopping backwards on the couch, erection pushing at his sweatpants.

Kimara lowkey loved making him wait, period or not. It’s nice to see he still wants her, and no one else has his attention to fix his rather big problem throbbing in his pants.

“Erik? You never told me what you think about the tour.”

Erik exhales loudly. “Good idea, that’s finna kill my hard on real quick.”

“Erik!”

He sits up, pushing down on himself. “Mara, I want you to get your hustle goin, I know you been singin since way way way back.”

“Hold up, it ain’t been that long, makin me feel old.”

Erik bops her with his shoulder. “You know you been my Suga Mama.”

“Two months older Erik. Dassit!”

Erik looks at the floor, rubbing her knee. “I just don’t understand why you think it’s best to leave now. What Imma do without you for two months?”

“Whatever you been doin get home late at night.” Kimara says flatly.

“The project is almost finished, do I don’t know where that attitude came from.”

Kimara sits silent, not up for a fight, especially in her hormonal state.

Erik stares at her, testing her. He knows she wants to say more, she always does. “I got two more weeks on this, and it’s done. My workload is gonna be lighter, more boring, and I promise my time will be yours, but now you wanna leave, so.”

“But you understand why right? It doesn’t sound like you do. I don’t wanna leave you alone or stop trying, but...this is my dream!”

“Having a family is too right? That’s why all our time and money been revolving around everything related to that for almost a whole damn year. It’s fucking flaky.” Erik shoots back.

“Erik, you got to do what you wanted, right? This ain’t new with you! When you want something, you go for it, fuck anybody that gives a shit, it’s yours. I’m tired of being in the shadow of your shit, cleaning things up so you can have your peace. This is mine.”

“The fuck is you talkin about?? Is your PMS going retrograde or some shit?” Erik speaks over her in an agitated tone. Nothing Kimara said made sense anymore to him.

Kimara gets up, waving him off. “Eat my ass Erik, I said what I fucking had to say and I mean that shit.”

Masterlist

Ragtag

@chaneajoyyy @sarcastic-sunshines @muse-of-mbaku@dameshaemonique @fonville-designs@destinio1@bakarisange l@wakanda-inspired @klaine15689 @savageiz @nickidub718 @yoyolovesbucky @alexundefined @forbeautyandlife @bakarisangel

#shakafic #black panther fic

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lookbluesoup · 5 years

Text

Nate and Piper’s Fallout

@ronqueesha @viewfromthevault OKAY SINCE YOU LOVELIES AND AN ANON ASKED about the big meltdown between Nate and Piper I will now proceed to overshare thanks! If I didn’t have a gazillion billion other WIPs I’d probably have turned this into a novel by now! Lol I’m not sure if it will ever get polished enough to post online. REGARDLESS it’s important to me and I hope at least a little interesting for you all to hear about xD

THAT BEING SAID I know I have some followers who don’t like spoilers, and if I ever do finish that fic, this wordvomit is gonna be basically the entire outline. SO everything is under the cut! In contrast to most of his story, Nate’s also a bit of an ass here! Keep reading at your own peril! 😱

-------------

Nate realizes he’s in love with Piper the day he breaks into the Institute. Up until that point, finding Shaun took precedence over everything else. Nate had helped the Commonwealth a lot, but he couldn’t really start building a new life for himself while still chasing the old one.

Getting into the Institute was… disorienting, to say the least. Too clean, too organized, too friendly towards him after all the carnage he’s seen on the surface. When Father encourages Nate to stay and help make a better world, and Nate is presented with the idea of possibly having to choose between the Institute or the Commonwealth, it really tips him sideways. He starts to realize that he’s already been laying the foundation for a new beginning. On the surface. With Piper. And Preston. And Curie and Deacon and Nick and the Minutemen and the Railroad.

Father gives Nate the run of the Institute so of course Nate noses into every single nook and cranny. When a particularly friendly scientist greets Nate and conveys their hope that “the Institute can feel like home,” Nate remembers what the Institute has done to the homes of others. They talk to him about how there’s “nothing out there” on the surface. Nate thinks of Piper. Those living under Father dismiss the Commonwealth as just a dying remnant and Nate is surprised by the anger that sentiment inspires in him. The people on the surface are fighting hard to survive. He’s bled and sacrificed beside them. He sees it as arrogance for the Institute to claim having “humanity’s best interest at heart” and yet be so out of touch with humanity.

It’s Piper’s door Nate comes crashing through when he returns to the surface. It’s her advice he seeks out to come to terms with the revelation that Shaun is the Director of the Institute, and that once again, Nate’s sense of reality has been turned on its head.

He goes back and forth for a while. Father tolerates it with the expectation that once Nate gets a feel for the Institute he will make the right choice and join them. Nate has to be very careful to avoid the Watchers, who now have a vested interest in following him around. Desdemona urges Nate to maintain the charade for as long as it takes to liberate the synths. He agrees, and it’s at some point during this back and forth he and Piper come to terms with their feelings for one another.

That’s where it starts. And he and the Railroad are on the same page, 100% - except for Shaun.

Because Shaun is still Nate’s baby. And there is nothing more important to Nate than family. Even when that family is misguided.

He desperately wants to avoid escalating the conflict. After the shock wears off, he gets the idea that it might be possible to work not as a double-agent, but an ambassador between the surface and underground. If given enough time with the Institute, by earning their trust, Nate hopes to bridge the gap and bring about a cease-fire between the factions.

Piper’s initially supportive of the effort. If he can find one, a solution that doesn’t end in bloodshed and dead friends is preferable. They have a brief honeymoon of stolen moments that are carefully concealed from the Institute, for the sake of his cover. They still travel together openly as ‘friends’ and she even accompanies him to the Libertalia (where X6 manages to reclaim Gabriel) and Bunker Hill (where Nate helps the runaway synths escape and claims he was ambushed to protect his cover). So for a while, they’re still working together. And then Nate starts disappearing for longer and longer stretches of time.

Father is increasingly demanding. The ability to relay makes travelling across the Commonwealth with X6 much faster and safer than trekking across no-man’s land from Diamond City or the Castle or anywhere else. Suddenly Piper doesn’t know where he is every day, or what he’s doing, or why. She has faith in him, but the distance hurts.

And the thing is, it’s almost impossible to work and fight and live alongside a group of people without becoming sympathetic towards them in some way, especially for someone as naturally empathetic and cooperative as Nate, and especially in a situation like his where he feels compelled to be loyal at least to his son.

So Nate’s a little too optimistic. Starts making excuses, forgets that just because he might have managed to solve a conflict without violence doesn’t mean the Institute wouldn’t have preferred to choose violence themselves. (i.e. they were going to kidnap Wallace and kill the Minutemen who’d come to defend him, but that’s not an issue because Nate managed to convince Wallace to join the Institute peacefully, first.)

Nate sees a chance for real peace when Father offers him the role of Director. Piper doesn’t. It can’t be that easy when Nate’s still insisting they keep their relationship a secret for fear it might compromise his station and put them in danger. She reserves judgement at Nate’s request. But a whitewashed box underground could never be home to her; there could never be a future for them as a pair. And what else will Nate have to compromise to secure the loyalty of a group of people with such vastly different morals? Will they still take him as Director when the know how he really feels about the synths and the world above ground? If they know he intends to shut down the Retention Bureau and share technology with the Commonwealth? She just can’t see it happening.

He and Piper start arguing. Nate stops telling her about his missions. Stops telling her much of anything.

Rumours start finding their way back to her about the Institute’s meddling. Sometimes they’re violent. Sometimes informants talk about a man who sounds a bit like Nate, but Piper can’t bring herself to believe it. The stories must be exaggerated, or misinformed, because her Blue would never do those things. Not even to protect his cover. When she finally does get the chance to confront him, Nate’s evasive, leading her to believe at least some part of the stories must be true.

This straight up SUCKS for Piper because he’s doing what the others in Diamond City did. Suddenly he doesn’t want to talk, he treats her like she’s nosy. She isn’t his confidant anymore, and even worse she doesn’t know if she can trust him. All of this right after she opened her heart to him. It scares her, and when he only gives her more reasons to suspect he’s siding with the Institute - it makes her angry.

The night he breaks into Travis’s trailer to hack Diamond City radio and pick up reports from McDonough, Nate doesn’t even stop by Publick to tell Piper he’s in town. She crosses paths with him by sheer luck. He tries to wave it away with the excuse of “not wanting to upset her" and when the conversation gets heated, relays away. She’s pissed and pretty damn hurt. She takes all her collected intel and writes up an entire article condemning the “General” for his dereliction of duty, but doesn’t publish it.

After the Institute’s broadcast airs, Nate comes back to apologize. But he continues to insist the secrecy was necessary. And Piper pulls out all the stops. It’s gone too far. She doesn’t know what side he’s on. People are getting hurt, and he hardly seems to care anymore. Nate fails to realize what thin ice he’s on at first. (there IS an old draft of that fight here on my ao3!)

It gets heated, Nate tries to use protecting Piper as an excuse, which she will have absolutely none of, and then Nate takes a shot at her paper and tries to end the fight by insisting she just isn’t able to understand. Which he realizes, immediately, is a step too far. But the damage is already done. Piper compares Nate to Kellogg, and honestly stabbing him probably would have hurt less, kicks him out of her house, and it looks like it’s over between them.

Nate returns to the Institute wounded and angry. Father takes note of how distracted Nate seems, which prompts Nate to expose his frustration at Piper and her lack of understanding. Father remembers meeting her after the botched Battle of Bunker Hill and dismisses her small mind. Her troublemaking attitude has no place in the new future.

Nate spends the next few days going through the motions. It would be easier to just agree with Shaun and dismiss Piper’s challenge as nothing but ignorance. But that doesn’t sit quite right. Losing her is a harsh blow and her accusations weigh on Nate.

Karma’s pretty swift. Father comes to Nate with an ultimatum. The Railroad has to be put down. Shaun reveals he’s known all along about Nate’s history of involvement with them, and that it’s the last thing standing in the way of proving his loyalty. Nate tries to negotiate, and then outright refuses to kill his friends. Father stops playing nice. He orders Nate to destroy the Railroad. Realizing it’s the end of the line, Nate reverts to the old military, “Yes, sir.” but there’s a chasm in his heart. He has to choose. He can’t wait it out any longer. And Piper was right.

On the way back to his room, his synth informant warns him that the Brotherhood has also tracked the Railroad down, and are on their way to destroy the church. Choosing Shaun would be as easy as doing nothing at all. But Nate relays to Hanover Street and hits the ground running, knowing full well he’ll never set foot inside the Institute as an ally again.

Piper, meanwhile, had come to the conclusion that she couldn’t keep Nate’s waffling loyalty a secret from the Railroad any longer. She had traveled to HQ to inform Des her Agent might be compromised. And it’s about that time Nate comes crashing through the door wild-eyed with his desperate warning.

They’ve definitely had better reunions.

#sorry this took so long to answer!!#text #long post #nate trivia #nate ronan #pipan #piper wright #institute #shaun #father #railroad #fallout #fallout 4 #ask

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sowhatgguk · 5 years

Text

protect my heart - myg

REQUESTED: #25 w/ yoongi - “why don’t you understand?”

it’s been sitting in the drafts for a while, but since school has started and work isn’t as hectic, i decided to post this before i forgot. i have one more request, it’s coming soon! send in more through my ask :)

WARNING: um idk i don’t think it’s that angsty but if you’re very emotional this can be kinda sad? yoongi!bf, heartbreak, mentions of cheating and sad stuff i guess

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

You stare at the message, wondering if there was something wrong. But you figured it was due to stress, so you ignored that feeling. Making Yoongi angry wasn’t something you planned to do.

You’d head to the restaurant and pick a few of his favourite things. Just to make sure he eats and sleep well at the studio. And then you’d head home. As much as yoongi hated being bothered, you knew you had to take care of his health. Sometimes, he doesn’t know his limits.

You spend time around the house watching television, checking social media and then taking a shower to get ready. you make sure to put a mask on your face before heading outside. No one would suspect you, everyone wore them in this cold weather.

But as you approach bighit’s company building, your cellphone seems to weigh heavy in your pocket. You push aside your thoughts, you were here to take care of your boyfriend and not annoy him.

You knock lightly on his studio door, the bag of food feeling heavy. You place your ear to the door, not hearing a thing. Maybe he’s sleeping? You think to yourself not before slowly opening the door.

What you see hurts your heart. Yoongi is sleeping on the couch cuddling a girl. You don’t even know her, or understand why she would be in his studio that close anyways. Maybe she replaced you.

You quietly place the food on a small table, being careful not to make a mess with his equipment everywhere. You spot a small piece of paper and pen. You write a small note to yoongi.

Hey, I noticed you fell asleep and I didn’t want to bother you and your friend. I got your favourites, make sure to warm them up. I wanted to make sure you’re eating well and sleeping well. I’m glad. Please don’t stress yourself, and take care of yourself yoongs. Because I won’t be able to do that anymore. I love you.

Y/N

in the midst of your shuffling, the noise caused yoongi to stir. You met his horrified gaze once he realized his position. He carefully tried to get up, but you gave him a sad smile.

Goodbye Min Yoongi.

You place the pen down onto the table and quietly closed the door. You walk to the elevator when you hear his footsteps. So you decide to take the emergency exit stairs 5 flights down.

You’re biting your lip, fighting your tears as you bolt down the stairs. Not bothering to be quiet, you pushed the exit door with all the energy you have and book it to your car. You lock the door, trying to breathe.

You rub your face with your hands, not caring if your makeup was ruined. The space between you and him get evidently smaller, and your lungs constrict. A panic attack.

You laugh bitterly. Getting all riled up because of a man. You promised yourself that you would never let a man affect you like this. But you never thought that man would be min yoongi.

Your hands shakily reach to press the START button to rev the engine. You see yoongi burst out the back door, frantically looking for you. He spots you crying in your car but before he can run to you, your car is leaving the parking lot. Leaving him behind.

You force yourself to turn up the radio to drown out his yelling. You refuse to be foolish. Perhaps you did have some dignity; call it pride. You had enough of people manipulating you, using you as if you were there for pure convenience.

But deep inside you knew, you would let min yoongi hurt you again anyways.

“Fuck.” Yoongi curses as he makes his way back into the building and walking into his studio. By the time he opens the door, he sees that the girl is gone, just like you. He decides to open the bag of food you got him, refusing to let your hard work go to waste. Even if he did lose you.

Your note is like a warning sign for him. But he reads it. And his heart crumbles in pain. Suddenly, the thought of eating food didn’t seem appealing anymore. He falls back onto the couch crumpling the piece of paper in his hands. And for the first time in a long time, he cries.

He lets out harsh sobs as he blindly reaches for his cellphone. He reads the texts you sent him and his grip tightens.

He wants to call you, and tell you it was a misunderstanding. He wants you back. That he needs you and loves you.

But one of his downfalls is confrontation. So he doesn’t. He leaves you alone. Leaving him to swallow his pain by working on his new track and drinking liquors til he passes out.

He doesn’t remember how long he’s been in the studio. But his body can feel it. So when somebody opens the door, he winces at the intrusion of light.

“oppa! You need to leave the studio, it reeks. Gah! Did something die in here?”

He merely turns to face another of the producers. She’s scrunching her nose at the sight of him.

He turns back to his computer, adding a few touches here and there. He hears her sigh and the door closes.

Within minutes, she comes back with namjoon, seokjin and a bottle of febreze. He gives her a confused look as Namjoon and Seokjin practically manhandle him out of the studio.

“Oh my Lord this is fucking nasty, get him out.” She says with a pained look as she sprays the whole studio.

“Hey! My equipment! I haven’t finished the track! Let me back-“ he yells as she slams the door in his face.

It’s quiet. He knows what he looks like. A pathetic mess.

“Yoongi-ssi.” Seokjin calls him, but he doesn’t meet the elder’s gaze.

“Hyung, what happened? You never work yourself this hard. You should go home.” Namjoon softly suggests as he shakes his head.

“Home? The studio is my home. Not like I can go back to the dorms.”

“What do you mean the studio is your home? What about y/n?” Seokjin inquires and at the sound of your name, he loses it.

“I cannot go back to her. I lost her hyung, don’t you get it? She fucking hates me because I broke her heart.”

“What exactly did you do wrong?” Seokjin softly asks as yoongi felt his heart constrict.

“She brought me food a few days ago. I was working on the new track. I fell asleep on the couch.”

“She got mad at you because you were sleeping?” Namjoon says confused meeting seokjin’s look.

“Yeah, she found me sleeping on the couch… with another girl.”

There was a dead silence in the room, but all Yoongi could hear was his own heart beat pounding.

“Who is the girl, Min Yoongi?” Seokjin has a subtle glint of anger in his voice as he muttered

“intern. She was bringing me coffee and we were talking about stuff and she told me to take a break. So I lied on the couch but in my sleepy mode I pulled her onto me.”

“Well she’s fired.” Namjoon sighs to himself, rolling his shoulders back to alleviate the back pain.

“She shouldn’t be engaging in things like that with coworkers let alone idols. But the question is; why did you let her?”

Maybe because I was missing you. So I could take love from anyone who offered. So why couldn’t I take it from you?

“I-i don’t know. But I have to fix it.”

“She just slept on top you, right? You didn’t sleep with her… right?”

Namjoon looks afraid to ask, probably because he was the closest friend you had in bight aside from the maknae line.

“I didn’t… but I almost.” Yoongi whispers as he hear seokjin mutter curses under his breath.

“Well I don’t know what to tell you Min Yoongi. You lost the best thing in your life because of your carelessness. Your inability to accept people into your life. So why are you upset when you keep pushing her away? You need to set fucking boundaries when entering and being in a relationship. So you either chuck your pride and make it up to Y/N or you fuck off and leave her alone. Either way you still need to apologize to her.”

Yoongi bites his inner cheek as he processes the information. He had to apologize to you, but how? Surely it’s too late, a week has already passed.

Namjoon softly nudges yoongi which shakes him out of his reverie.

“It’s better late than never, hyung. Go to her.”

For the first time in a long time, yoongi left the studio and left the building.

It’s been a week since you’ve seen Yoongi. You just assumed that things were over, since he hasn’t made an effort to contact you. His silence and lack of response just shows you that she means a lot to him.

You sigh looking at the empty tub of coffee flavoured ice-cream. Maybe you’ve sulked for a bit now, but it’s time to stop. There were things to be done, eventually.

There’s a knock on your door. You furrow your brows in confusion. You weren’t expecting anyone, did you order something online?

You open the door without looking at who it was. It was yoongi, drenched, looking like he came back from the dead a week later.

“Yoongi? What are you doing here?” You say with arms crossed. You could let him inside, but part of you wants him to suffer. Also, if you were to let him inside, you would be vulnerable. And knowing your emotional state, you wouldn’t be rational and probably just take him back without batting an eye.

“I’m so fucking late and I’m sorry. I- I just need to talk to you, please Y/N. I-“

fine. I should probably let him in before Mrs. Kim 5 doors down starts to become nosy.

“Whatever, just don’t make the floor too wet.” You say opening the door wider, watching him carefully place his shoes and hanging his coat.

He follows you to the bedroom and you give him a towel to dry up in the bathroom. While he does that, you pull a pair of his clothes that he left behind and give it to him. He smiles back in gratitude but it turns out to be a grimace.

You go to the kitchen to make some tea. As you’re pouring the tea in the two mugs, you spot yoongi walk out with bare fare and a towel on his shoulders. Your heart beats at the sight of him, so maybe you’re not healing as fast as you wanted.

He sits at the chairs you’ve planted near the countertop. You both quietly drink, allowing the background noise of rain to fill the room.

After a while, he speaks.

“I don’t know how many times I will apologize to express myself, but I know none of them will make things better. You might not even forgive me, and that’s something I have to live with.”

You decide to look at anywhere but him. Maybe if you saw the emotion in his eyes, it would become more surreal.

“- but I can’t ask to be back in your life regardless if I don’t give you an explanation. And I know I don’t deserve to be in your life after this. Not as a boyfriend or even a friend.

But basically i was distancing myself from you, because I was stressed, I didn’t want it to affect our relationship but-“

He lets out a bitter laugh, looking into his cup.

“-Turns out I did more than that, didn’t I? And what you saw was basically this intern I’ve been teaching her the ropes at bight. She told me to take a break, since I was working for too long. So when I lied on the couch, I reached out for her hand and she fell on top of me.

I don’t know why I did that. Maybe because she reminded me of you. That I enjoyed someone taking care of me no matter who it was. But that was it, I didn’t sleep with her. But, I mean I could have. I don’t know what I was thinking.

But I understand why that would make you feel betrayed. I’m so sorry Y/N… I pushed you away when you were trying to just offer me your heart.”

“Yoongi.” You call out as he wipes his tears with the back of his hand.

“You really broke my heart. Not just seeing you with her but the fact that you went to anyone but me.”

“But I’m here! I’m saying sorry and that I still love you. Why don’t you understand?”

“What do you mean I don’t understand? I did more than understand, I never bothered or smothered you. I gave you space. I allowed you to be by yourself and a space to talk things through. If anything, you don’t understand. You don’t value our relationship or me, min yoongi. Who goes to say later you won’t do something worse?”

Yoongi looks helpless, but you avert your gaze. You walk to put your glass in the sink. And when you turn around, he’s on the floor. Kneeling at your feet. On reflex, you bend down to his level offering a hand.

“You don’t need to kneel, yoongi. Save yourself the embarrassment. Get up.”

He shook his head, frame trembling with each word he spoke. “I can’t lose you, i refuse to let you go. I know you won’t forgive me, because of all the shit i’ve done but please don’t leave me. I can’t, you can’t make me please.”

You stare at his pathetic frame for a while, memorizing his features. sure, he didn’t sleep with her. but not to say it wasn’t his fault. who am i to be angry with her when he pulled her on top? but do all people deserve second chances? won’t i be regarded as weak and naive?

“I can’t make you leave. I can’t make you stop loving me. But I can protect my heart, which is something you failed to do. I’m sorry, Min Yoongi. I would say to give me time, but i don’t know how long that will be. And you’re a busy man, with a life filled with success you won’t have time for me.”

Yoongi looks at you with bloodshot eyes and nods. He turns to leave as you follow him to the door shakily. Before he steps outside, he turns to face you. His lip starts to quiver, and your heart breaks.

“can i ask a favour from you? just one more time?” he meekly asks as you nod.

he slowly reaches for your arms, and you let him touch you. you want to feel his embrace, but it feels different this time. and when he gets closer, you close the gap. a farewell kiss.

and ever since that shared moment, you don’t see min yoongi ever again.

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toast-the-unknowing · 5 years

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HI! I wanted to say that I really love your writing and I get really excited to see notifications that you've posted new work! And I was just curious if you worked in an office of some kind, and if so how do you find the time/motivation to sit in front of the computer and write personal work. It's just something I've been struggling with myself, and I wanted to ask if you had any similar experiences. If the answer is no, then no worries :) Thanks again!

Oh, that's a tough one, Anon.

I do currently work in an office -- as An Adult I've had an array of jobs, all of them either retail or customer service or "office assistant in a field I don't care about." And I’m sure that every job has the power to take away from your creative work, just as a simple matter of resources -- time and energy spent working can't be spent writing -- but there's something extra challenging about jobs you don't like, jobs you're doing just because you have to. They take so much out of you.

Motivation is one of my personal crosses to bear. I don't have it. I consistently struggle to find the motivation to do basic life tasks. So I don't know that I have answers for you, but I definitely have sympathy.

I also have, like, so many more words than I thought, so they’re going behind a cut.

When motivation is in short supply, the stuff that has to happen or you will literally die comes first. That's okay. It gets to come first. If I put on clothing and show up for work and eat some kind of food at some point, I got through the day. That's an accomplishment. And sometimes doing that uses up all my motivation for the day. Sometimes I can't even get up that much motivation, let alone do anything else. That sucks, but it happens.

But it doesn't happen every single day.

Some days have more motivation than others. Some seconds have more motivation than others. Why can I do the thing in this one second when for weeks it's been blocked like a grayed-out option on a computer menu? I don't know. But I could. Motivation is weird like that. You never know when it will show up, so you have to give yourself opportunities.

You know your office better than I do -- is the culture "get the work done on time and we don't care what you do" or "YOU MUST PERFORM 'PERFECT EMPLOYEE' AT ALL TIMES"? What's the layout of your desk? Can people read over your shoulder? How nosy are your bosses/coworkers? How strict are the internet controls your IT department uses? How busy are you? What are your own particular psychological quirks and philosophical attitudes? What's your anxiety look like?

It may be that "work on my writing while on the clock" is not an option for you. I get that; in the time I've been an office worker, I've been all over the place, from "my own writing is what I spend the majority of my time on while I'm at work" to "I won't even touch my writing on a company computer." Right now is closer toward the latter. But, if writing at work is an option for you, now, don't lose out because your current project is saved to a .docx file on your home desktop. Make it so that if you had to, you could write under literally ANY circumstance. I carry a Chromebook with me everywhere. Before that I carried a composition notebook and a pen at all times. I know people who write fics in draft emails or the notes app on their phone.

When time and motivation are scarce, you have to build in the opportunity anywhere that you are able to. Those might not be the same opportunities that work for other people. I've heard established writers say things to newer writers like "if you don't have the time during the day, just wake up earlier," and that's so discouraging and heartbreaking for me to hear. "Wake up earlier" isn't an option for me. "Wake up on time" is barely an option for me. Getting out of bed is a bottleneck for all of my motivation issues to all run into each other at the same time. But "work on the bus" does work for me. Not every single day. Maybe one day I'm tired. Maybe the bus is really full. Maybe the person I'm sitting next to looks like my mother and that makes it weird to write about boys kissing. Maybe the one fic I really really really want to work on that day is porn, and no I'm not going to do that on the bus/at work/on my lunch break. Maybe I pull out my Chromebook and open it and look at my fic with every intention of working on it and just.....nothing happens, for forty minutes, and then I'm embarrassed and put it away. That's fine. Because if I do write something on one of those commutes or lunch breaks or "just gotta kill time" evenings even once, then it was worth it. If I give myself lots of opportunities, then even if I don't take most of them, I still get stuff done I wouldn't otherwise.

Little bits COUNT. If all you manage to write is "in this scene the characters argue" THAT COUNTS. You wrote a thing. Because the next time you write, that can become "in this scene the characters argue about money and Adam storms off". And then the next time it can be "the characters argue about money and Adam storms off and Blue says something really cutting to Gansey and Gansey is crushed." And then, and then, and then.

It sucks to write a story one tortured sentence at a time, but it can be done, and sometimes that's the only way that it does get done. Some days all I do is turn [gansey says hi] into "Hello," Gansey said, and you know what, that counts.

Sometimes when writing has been hard or impossible for me, I've done writing adjacent tasks. Maybe the motivation isn't there, right now, to get writing done. Can you daydream about something you know you'll never write in a million years? Can you spend your commute, or the time you spend watching paper feed through the scanner, or that awkward minute in the break room when your boss is getting coffee at the same time as you -- can you spend that time thinking about a Hogwarts/ABO/vampire/fake dating/rock band/Groundhog day/all-of-the-above fic that you would never write? Because daydreaming and dicking around can be very helpful for getting your brain in gear to write. And if you daydream about the story you're actually writing, or one you'd like to write, (a) you get caught up in it needing to be GOOD ENOUGH which is anathema to free wheeling fun times, and (b) you run that risk of coming up with that PERFECT bit of dialogue that you aren't able to write down and then you forget it. If you forget that really funny bit of dialogue for the Declan/Henry soulmate alien abduction shapeshifter fic you were never going to write, well, what does it matter?

I've done this before when I've been in a place where I'm not writing, and there's something about being able to say, "okay, I didn't write anything, but I came up with five different fun little stories that I can go back to, in my brain, any time I feel like it." And I've discovered things about the characters that I do then want to use in a "real" story . Maybe you will stumble across an interesting dynamic or interaction in that OT6 West Wing crossover you were never going to write, but it's worth revisiting in something you do want to write. When you're able to.

The ways of motivation are mysterious. I don't really know why it's easier to find the motivation now than it's been at other points in my life, in other fandoms. I think part of it is momentum, from accepting "okay I'll just try to do a little bit of writing" and then the little bit happens and keeps happening and becomes a big bit. There's been so many times now where my bus pulls up to my stop and I go "ugh I have to put the laptop AWAY and GO HOME why" and I just try to race home so I can sit down on the first chair I find and keep writing.

Are there some places, or times, or situations, or writing mediums, where the motivation comes a little easier? If you don't know of any can you pay attention for those? Is there any way to capitalize on that? If super boring meeting where I don't have to do anything but I'm not allowed to skip is a great time for day dreaming about your writing, is there anyway to take your lunch/a coffee break/a really long bathroom break where you hunt & peck type into your email drafts right after that?

I tried tracking my writing once, on the suggestion of a very convincing essay by an author who promised that only good things could come from meticulously noting where the writing happened and when and how many words. The result was that my word count dropped to zero. Very easy to track! Not so great for literally any other goal I had. But I've learned a lot about my process since then, not from spreadsheets and journals but just from...paying attention, and asking myself questions, and thinking back on all the thinking about writing I do, and it's become easier to make words happen. Not a guarantee, but -- easier. So I think the most helpful thing is just to give yourself opportunities, even little ones, to write or create, and then just...pay attention. To your process and your words and your motivation and your situation, and try to work within those and not against those.

#writing #Anonymous

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dxmichelle · 6 years

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Ask Meme turned Headcanon Post.

So I got inspired by that ask meme I reblogged the other day, and rather than wait for nobody someone to send one in, I’ll just Nerdship most of the meme and call it a headcanon post.

Although tumblr didn’t want to save my initial finished draft, so I copped out on redoing some of the answers. Oh well. Cross your fingers that the post didn’t “de-format” because I’m not editing this monstrosity again.

Here goes the longest post ever. Under the cut because I’m not gonna make anyone scroll through a mile-long post to get to the rest of their dash.

- How do they fall asleep? Wake up? Any daily rituals?

Hermione usually has to drag Seto from his office to go to bed on time. Sometimes she’ll cuddle up against him, but that’s mostly it. Seto is a light sleeper and doesn’t get enough rest as it is, so unless they were cuddling or something before they nodded off, she won’t in the middle of the night in fear it’ll wake him up.

Waking up though is a different story. If it’s the weekend and he technically doesn’t have to go into work, she’ll try to keep him in bed until a reasonable hour. He gets up ridiculously early no matter what day it is, and it’s usually before she’s even awake. She’ll wake up to find his side of the bed already empty (and made up no less), and he’s already downstairs, dressed, and consumed two cups of coffee.

- How’s their team work? Do they share well? They definitely share Kaiba Corp sweaters. And by share, she hoards them and claims them as her own.

- Are they open about their relationship? How do they feel about public displays of affection? They were incredibly private about it at first. Seto could care less what others thought of him, but Hermione worried how her friends (especially Ron) would react to them being together. Thankfully, by the time they came clean to everyone important about it, enough time had passed that Ron had gotten over his jealousy (no thanks to Ginny literally knocking sense over his head). Other than friends and family though, they keep PDA minimal. It didn’t stop the media from catching wind of it and going nuts though.

- First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight? Definitely not love at first sight.

Hermione had of course read articles about him before they met, but she didn’t hang on his every word and movement like the Krum fangirls during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She found him fairly cold and distant in comparison to Yugi and Ryou, who were also staying at the Burrow at the time. She was more so impressed by his interest in absorbing the textbooks than just hanging around teaching Harry and Ron the basics of Duel Monsters.

Seto didn’t think much of Hermione or her friends at first, though he was recovering from a combination of jet-lag and an attack on his mind at the same time. When he was much more cognizant, he thought them (Harry mostly) were rather nosy into his business. He also couldn’t wrap around why someone as level-headed as Hermione chose to stick around with them since at times they acted as polar opposites. In time, he appreciated the fact that she didn’t fawn over him like a lovesick puppy, was merely trying to help, and didn’t put up with any of his nonsense.

- Nicknames? Pet names? Any in-jokes? Definitely not. Seto hates them.

- Any tasks that are always left to one person? Not really.

- What annoys them the most about their partner? Would they change it if they could? She can’t stand that he puts his work before his health. He’s slowly getting better, but it’s a work in progress. He can’t stand that every time she gets on his case because he’s a workaholic, she’s in the right for worrying about him. And he hates losing.

- What do the like best about their partner? He loves that she’s not afraid to call him out on his BS - usually only Mokuba and Roland are brave enough to do that. She loves all of the subtle little things he does, because while he’s coming a long way in keeping any sort of relationship, being an open romantic is not one of them.

- Do they discuss big issues? Religion? Marriage? Children? Death?

They’ve discussed marriage before, and some of the technicalities that come with it - like would they settle in one country or bounce from place to place as their jobs demand it.

Seto is practically an atheist so they really don’t practice any religion.

They’ve only just gotten engaged, so they really haven’t discussed children at all. After his terrible experiences with his father-figures, he worries about fatherhood, but he knows Hermione would probably want kids someday.

And after fighting in the war, Hermione is still shaken a bit by losing so many friends and refuses to talk about death.

- Who drives? Cooks? Does the handiwork? Cleans? Pays the bills? Handles the public?

Neither of them drive, though Seto has a driver’s license. Seto has his driver, and Hermione either takes a cab or apparates if she’s at home in the UK, depending if she’s around Muggles or not.

When they’re alone, both of them cook. It’s a secret to most people that Seto does in fact know how to prepare food, he normally just doesn’t have the time for it. Hermione does it more often than he does though.

Depending on work that needs done, Seto takes care of it, or hires someone to get the work done.

They pay their own bills (something else Seto loves about her - she’s not using him for his money).

They both are pretty busy with their work. There’s a cleaning lady that tends to the Kaiba Mansion, and Hermione uses magic to clean her home.

The Wizards don’t pay too much attention to them. Muggle press on the other hand is another story. Seto handles all of their public matters, and it’s considered a bonus if he has to threaten a few tabloids in the process.

- Do they celebrate holidays? Anniversaries?

The Kaibas didn’t really celebrate a whole lot of holidays beforehand, but Hermione enjoys Christmas (and so does Mokuba), so there’s that. Birthdays too, although Seto prefers to pretend his doesn’t exist. Seto and Hermione also do something for their relationship anniversary, which is transitioning into their engagement anniversary.

They also meet up with Yugi on the anniversary of the Pharaoh and Set’s passing back into the Afterlife. They make the journey each year to Egypt and pay a visit to the Tablet of the Pharaoh’s Memories.

Every May, they return to Scotland for the remembrance of the Battle of Hogwarts. The Weasleys insist they stay with them, and it’s essentially a week of catching up and paying respects to all of their lost friends and family.

- Is there a wedding? What was the proposal like? Any kind of honeymoon?

To be fair, everything about their wedding is going to be part of a separate headcanon post, so...skip!

- What do they do for fun? Do they have a favorite activity or do they like to switch things up? Ironically, one of their favorite things to do for fun is pick up the tabloids that are written about them and laugh at how wrong they are. It’s a running joke to see how many times they write about their relationship being in trouble because Seto is caught unsmiling in a photograph.

- Anything they both dread? Public engagements.

- How adventurous are they? Honestly? Not very. They’re both barely 21 years old and have had enough shenanigans happen in their lives to last two lifetimes. A little quiet in their lives is definitely welcome.

- Do they keep secrets? Lie? Cheat? Cheat? Never. Hermione is much more open and forward than Seto, but he doesn’t lie. He just withholds information, moreso because it’s something personal and private and he’s not used to being upfront about his emotions, even to her. Again, their relationship is a work of progression for him.

- What are their dates like? How long do/did they date? Do they ever feel the need to take a break from each other?

He usually plans dates of interest to her. Sometimes they’ll have dinner out somewhere, or do something simple like visiting a museum or that new bookstore down the street. He just enjoys seeing her happy. Other times they’ll just stay in, cuddle on the couch and get absorbed in a book. Sometimes she’ll read to him.

They weren’t sure exactly when they became a couple because the lines blurred somewhere during the Wizarding War, but it had been at least for a year since then.

Breaks weren’t all that difficult since she was working for the British Ministry of Magic and he returned to Japan. He built her a cell phone so they could keep in touch, and they visited each other as often as work would allow.

- What do they fight about? What are their arguments like? How do they make up? A lot of their arguments are about him not taking care of himself. Or how he’s constantly under the worry that something terrible will happen to her that he was unable to prevent, stemming from Mokuba’s kidnappings during Duelist Kingdom and Battle City. She has to constantly remind him that she’s no fragile princess and can take care of herself. The most explosive they ever got turned into a wand fight in his home office and after she finished kicking his ass, he admitted he was wrong, and that was enough for her.

- What does their home look like? Their room? Neither of them hoard a ton of stuff.

Hermione’s apartment(s) - one in the UK, one in Japan - are a blend of magical and conventional Muggle decoration. She has photographs of her family and friends on the walls and mementos of her Hogwarts days scattered around. One room in each is full of nothing but books.

For the most part, Seto stays in the Kaiba Mansion. Most of the decoration around are pictures of Mokuba and his achievements growing up (Seto hates having his picture taken). He does have their engagement photograph on the desk in both his home and work office, next to Mokuba’s current school photo.

They’re both neat freaks, so the bedroom(s) are clean. Seto usually doesn’t sleep unless the room is pure dark, so when he stays in the UK (at least in the early days of their relationship), he tends to be in a hotel with blackout curtains because Hermione actually likes light in her room, but she’ll concede to how he keeps his space when she stays at the mansion. Seto offered her a guest room (one that actually welcomes natural sunlight), but she prefers to stay in his.

- Do they share any interests or hobbies? Not a whole lot. Hermione has her books, and Seto has Duel Monsters, though he doesn’t play nearly as much as he used to. Occasionally, she’ll find him in his card room just looking through stacks of cards.

- Does their work ever interfere with the relationship? Other than Seto not knowing when to stop? Not really. They both know that their jobs are important to each other, and respect and support each other’s chosen line of work.

- How much time do they spend together? Do they share their feelings, or hold things in?

When they’re not working, they don’t cling to each other 24/7. They each respect that they have lives to live, and most of the time in the early days, they were continents apart. Then, when they were both in town together, they were together quite a bit.

Hermione is a master of knowing when Seto is keeping something bottled up. Tension radiates off him in waves. She’s one of the few people that can get him to vent out his frustration without feeling the need to flee the scene right afterwards.

- How do their friends feel about their relationship? Their families?

Ron came to the conclusion during the War that his continued jealousy over Hermione’s choice in friendships had cost him. That wasn’t to say Hermione didn’t play the same jealousy game with him at school, but she was the one who got over it first and moved on. Was he still a little upset that she chose someone of fame and reputation over him? Sure. But he also acknowledged that she had waited for him to essentially man up for a very long time, and he hadn’t. It took a great deal of reflection, but after he admitted to Hermione that he was glad she found someone that genuinely made her happy, their friendship improved tenfold.

Harry was surprised, knowing that she had been crushing on Ron for the greater portion of their time at Hogwarts. At the same time though, he was very supportive of her, knowing what certain events on the Horcrux Hunt had done to her, and caused both she and Seto to get closer to each other. He felt better once Ron confided in him how okay he was with it.

Ginny was all for it. She had to practically beat her mother over the head with sense in the beginning though, because she knew Ron had feelings for her, and this was like the Rita Skeeter love triangle article between Harry, Hermione, and Krum all over again.

Yugi was there to witness their relationship progress, but his friends weren’t, and they still couldn’t believe that of all people, Seto managed to get involved in a romantic relationship before any of them.

Mokuba is all for it. He witnessed her genuinely caring for Seto during [REDACTED PLOT SPOILERS]. Not even Yugi or his friends showed that much concern when they were stuck in the middle of a magical crisis. He didn’t care that they weren’t even in a relationship at that time, but he immediately unofficially added her to the family. Having her officially added to the family was an added bonus.

- What are their vacations like? Taking a break from work? Blasphemy!

Seto hasn’t taken vacations, ever! So it’s usually wherever Hermione wants to go. They usually go either to places neither have been to, or some secluded space where it’s literally just them.

Phones are either left behind, or off the majority of the time. If anyone from KC that wasn’t Roland tried to get in contact while they were away together, and it was over something petty, they were put on thin ice, and fast. Seto would have just straight up fired them, but Hermione manages a good portion of his impulse control.

Since she knows he lets her pick what they do, she tries to plan a trip that will get him to unwind as much as possible. No rushing, just relaxation. Their first vacation following their engagement announcement was to tour Norway and see the Northern Lights.

- How do the handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness? With everything that’s happened to them? Assuming they aren’t in public, Hermione could probably magically deal with minor injuries, and after all of the kidnappings and attempted murder in his life, Seto is fairly-well equipped to handle disasters. But sickness? That’s a whole different game. Hermione is level-headed enough to know when to stay home and rest if she’s ill. After all, there isn’t always a potion handy to get rid of her cold. Seto? He’ll ignore it, go to work and overexert himself until he passes out at his desk. Both Hermione and Mokuba have to gang up on him and force him to stay in bed.

- Could they manage a long distance relationship? They already do!

- What kind of presents do they get each other? Do they only do it on special occasions? Usually only for birthdays or Christmas, and most of the time it’s something small and meaningful for the both of them.

- Do they have any pets? Crookshanks stayed at the Burrow during their run around the countryside, and then stayed at home with Hermione’s parents following the War. She takes him with her whenever she travels to and from Japan. Seto initially wasn’t keen on having a cat in the mansion, but Mokuba took a huge liking to him, and that was it. Despite all of the cat furniture that Hermione immediately bought for him in the mansion, Crookshanks always chose to sleep in Mokuba’s room, to the younger Kaiba’s immediate delight.

- How much would they be willing to sacrifice for the other? Any lines they refuse to cross? With Hermione being added into the Kaiba family, if she were in serious trouble, he would burn the world for her. If the roles were reversed? Hermione would gather her friends and any newfound Muggle resources and do the same, only it would probably end up a bit more discreet.

- What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do? Physical intimacy is something Seto’s still uncomfortable with. Hermione’s not rushing him, so while they do sleep together, it doesn’t go any further than cuddles.

- Who initiated the relationship? Who kissed who first? When did they realize they were in love? Hermione definitely started it. Seto was legit stunned while his brain processed what had happened. No one had ever shown him any amount of true care or concern before that wasn’t Mokuba, so this was something unfamiliar that needed figured out.

- Any special memories? Do they have a special place they like to go to? During one of his visits to the UK, they toured Tresco Island. It was so peaceful and relaxing there that they went back to the gardens there for their engagement photos.

- Are they party-goers? What are they like when they’re drunk? Does it happen often? Nope, and they don’t really drink either.

- Do they talk often? What about? He built her a custom phone so they could keep in better contact when they were apart. They’d call each other every few days and talk about anything and everything going on, from the progress on the new duel disks to how reforming the new Ministry of Magic was going.

- Are the comfortable with each other? Anything they have to have their privacy for? Seto’s physical and mental scars are still a touchy subject. In the beginning, he wouldn’t dress in front of her in fear she’d see and then ask about them.

- Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets? Overall? Within their own lines of work, they’re trying to make lives better for all, whether they be house elves or other minority species living in wizarding society, or improving the lives of orphans and underprivileged kids.

#michelle's headcanons #nerdshipping #seto kaiba #hermione granger #crossover au #yugioh #hp

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tippity-toppity · 6 years

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Aranea: Be Tired

This is a oneshot fanfiction I wrote a while back before I had tumblr and posted on the homestuck amino! I actually can't believe it's taken me this long to remember to post it on here? It's a little old so it's not the best, and some of the reasoning is a tad shaky, but I still want to post it for fun ^-^ This is supposed to be Aranea's thoughts leading up to [S] Game Over in a humanstuck universe! Enjoy!

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She was tired. Tired of being ignored, that is. Her name is Aranea Serket, yet sometimes she doubts anyone really knows that.

She's a nosy chatterbox, with only one person she could actually call a 'real friend'. A girl who speaks primarily in fish pun, a habit that Aranea herself had picked up more than once. An outcast, who can't really call anyone else in their group a friend. That's probably the only reason they started talking, and yet even Meenah will happily jump off a building, rather than listen to Aranea's stories. It's been like this forever, so it shouldn't really irk her nearly as much as it actually does. There's one person who does like her, and that's all that she needs, so why does it get under her skin so much?

Maybe because it hurts. It hurts when somebody waves her off, tells her to stop talking and laughs about it. When she was younger she used to try so hard. She thought maybe people didn't want to listen because of the way she was telling them. So she learned. She learned about proper structure, word building. She read countless articles on whatever might help. But of course it hadn't been enough.

She probably isn't helping either. She's got a nasty habit of talking about herself, of dragging the stories on too long. Of course she knows this. She berates herself everytime that she, without thinking, brings a conversation around to herself. Hates it when she gets so caught up in something she was saying that she just starts talking and doesn't stop.

She can feel their annoyance, too. It's like a sixth sense, she's always been great at reading people. Telling what they think of her. And of course, it's great on the occasion when somebody thinks she's pretty. But then there's always when she's talking to someone and just knows, deep down, that they don't like her. That they're waiting for her to shut up so they can go. Sometimes she'd wish that she didn't know.

Her grip tightens on the pencil she's using to draft an assignment for a class. Being a lit major, doubling in business, involves so much writing, but it's the same as talking really, just on paper. And as so many people have willingly pointed out, she's great at talking. Not that they listen, though.

She thought that maybe, just maybe, it'd be different in college. She'd meet others with the same interests, make some friends besides Meenah. That maybe somebody would listen to her.

But it's all been the same. She talks too much.

It stings. But it's not new.

She shakes her head, messy stands of stray black hair falling in her face. She can't get distracted. She's got essays to finish, tests to study for.

If she does them, then someday somebody might recognize her. Someone may look at one of her writings and listen. Actually, truly listen.

She allows herself to get lost in the fantasy for a moment, a better world. One where she's cool, amazing.

Like her Mother, for example. An amazing businesswoman, an absolute terror honestly. And just like Aranea, she talks too much.

But there's one big difference between her and Aranea. With 'The Marquise', people listen when she talks. Out of fear, yes, but they still listen.

So Aranea, for just a moment, allows herself to imagine herself in a position like her Mother's. A powerful, scary woman. A woman that people listen to.

But then her phone buzzes, some ridiculous clamshell thing Meenah got her ages ago, knocking her out of the illusion. It's not for her, of course. Kankri ranting about something or the other in a group chat Meenah had added her to long ago. She laughs bitterly, thinking about how sometimes it seems like even Kankri gets listened to more than she does. She doesn't like it, or want it, but.

Sometimes it's so easy to feel invisible. She wants to be in the narrative, get some form of attention. She wants to be something. She wants to insert herself into the action, but she isn't sure how.

There isn't even really much action going on. Unless you count things she's powerless against.

Like how recently there'd been a serial killer on the loose. Called himself Lord English, had evaded capture constantly.

That's the only noteworthy thing going on. Something not her, nor her friends could fix.

Meenah once joked about getting an army of police officers, even moreso than were already here. Her younger sister, Vriska, said that if she got a weapon- she could totally take him.

Of course they'd be insane to try. Even with her Mother's influence, one that made sure she could easily double the number of officers in the area.

Still, it's probably eighty-eight shades of illegal to interfere in an investigation.

She tries not to think about how she does have that English boy wrapped around her finger, how with a little bit of persuasion she could easily get the younger Makara in a position to frame him. How she's always been amazing at manipulating people when she wants to. That it'd be so easy to tip off the police about how there's something happening, make herself into a hero.

She's not insane. But as her phone buzzes again, and like always it's a call from Meenah, although Aranea thought she was hanging out with Vriska, she thinks that she might be leaning a bit towards crazy.

#aranea serket #homestuck #fanfiction #writing #s game over #humanstuck #my writing #tippity-toppity

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alphacrone · 7 years

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i found this post in my drafts and have ZERO memory of writing it (thank u alcohol) so im gonna put it in my queue lol

ok but imagine

Bitty comes out to his parents but he doesn't tell them about Jack, thinks it's for the best, maybe to ease his parents into things or maybe to keep the pool of People Who Know as small as possible

and like yeah Ransom and Holster are super oblivious but Suzanne Bittle is not, not when it comes to her son, because she is a certified Nosy Southern Mother and she can see he's been acting differently, happier but quieter, always on his phone and blushing when she asks about boys

and he talks about the team a LOT

Jack's one of his best friends and he's just started his NHL career, so of course Bitty’s never gonna shut up about Jack

(Same goes for Shitty and law school. And eventually Ransom and med school. Dicky is proud of his friends and wants everyone to know. He gets that trait from Suzanne, she understands)

but he keeps talking about this one Boy, how sweet he is and how his smile is like a sack of puppies and how bitty's always making this boy do things with him like baking and getting froyo and going shopping and Suzanne is like. Yes. This must be Dicky's secret boyfriend.

the next family weekend or whatever, Suzanne demands to meet this Chowder boy who's stolen Bitty's heart

Bitty is both confused and mortified

“No, Mother,” he says. “Chowder is my friend, I mean look at him, that sweet precious baby fawn of a goalie-”

Suzanne is Not Convinced

“Mhmm,” she replies. “Sure, baby. Sure.”

but bitty can’t disobey his mother, so he drags the Frogs into the kitchen and introduces them all at once

so dex is like “um ok nice to meet you ma’am” and nursey’s all “sup mrs. b” and then Chowder - sweet Chowder - goes over and hugs her and starts rambling on a mile a minute about how much the team loves bitty and gosh it’s so nice to meet you, mrs. bitty’s mom, thank you for the care packages and oh do you watch hockey what team do you root for my team’s the sharks they’re ‘swawesome hey are you coming to our game tonight i think the coaches are gonna start bitty which is So Great because bitty is So Great of course the entire team is So Great but you know we all just love bitty So Much-!

Suzanne is Very Much Convinced

bitty’s gone bright red and none of the Frogs can figure out why

so i think by this point Ransom & Holster have a running joke about Bitty’s Secret Boyfriend bc, even tho they know, they’re Major Shitheads

(”Who’re you texting, Bits?” “Oh, uh, Jack.” “Pshyeah right, look at that blush. Who are you really texting?” “Oh, my God, I swear I’m just texting Jack.” “Bro, it’s gotta be your secret boyfriend.” “Adam Birkholtz, I swear to Jesus-”)

so R&H are messing around in the kitchen as bitty and his mom make a pre-game pie or something and bitty’s texting with jack about how mortifying his day has been when, of course, it gets worse

��Dude, stop texting your Secret Boyfriend,” Ransom says, giving Bitty a shit-eating grin.

bitty goes super pale.

normally the joke is just kind of annoying but His Mother is Right Here And

Suzanne perks up.

“What was that?” She asks in that slow, sweet, unassuming way that all middle aged southern ladies use when they smell blood in the water

Bitty knows he’s Fucked

“Oh, hahahaha, just an inside joke, Mama, I’m just texting Jack, these boys and their silly little jokes, tell her it’s a joke, Justin”

so now Suzanne is almost certain Bitty’s hiding a boyfriend from her. she gets it, her mama never knew about half the guys she dated and she never had to Come Out to her mama. but Suzanne is not a saint and privacy doesn’t really exist when it’s your flesh and blood

“So, Adam. Justin. Tell me more about that sweet, little Christopher,” she says. “He’s real cute. Don’t you think so, Dicky?”

to bitty’s delight, though, R&H go straight into Captains mode

“Oh, yeah, Chow’s a great asset to the team.” “One of the best goalies I’ve ever known.” “Real go-getter attitude.” “Hard worker. Weird fear of pucks, though.” “Still. What a guy.”

Bullet dodged, crisis averted. Bitty breathes easy for a moment.

so in this time he’s managed to text Chowder and has asked him to AVOID MAMA BITTLE AT ALL COSTS WHICH

chowder is clearly unable to do

“why????!?? did she not like me?!??? did i say something???!!”

so bitty is trying to calm chowder down and suzanne’s all Sugar Bear Sweetpea Fruit of my Loins WHO ARE YOU TEXTING

and chowder barges into the haus, apologizes a mile a minute for literally Anything he can think of

“I’m sorry for not asking you if you wanted a drink! And I’m sorry for not offering you a tour of the Haus- though I guess Bitty’s already done that- oh! Did I not say it’s nice to meet you?! It’s so nice to meet you!!!”

and r&h have No Idea what’s happening but they love to Stir the Pot so they’re kinda egging chowder on and Mama B is very, very confused but so happy to see Dicky’s boyfriend is so thoughtful, if not a little...excitable...

So of course this is when the Frogs and Lardo wander in, drawn to sounds of a panicked Chowder

now bitty is on the edge of hysterics, trying to calm chowder down, trying to tell his mother that he’s Not dating chowder without saying those exact words, trying to text jack because who Else would be text while losing his shit??

and then she says it

suzanne just fucking says it

“oh, gosh, honey, i don’t know what you’re apologizin for, but it’s nice to know how polite my dicky’s boyfriend is.”

the silence in the kitchen is heavy with pent-up shock and laughter.

now. chowder can be naive, but he’s a smart cookie. it takes him those few, awkward moments, but he manages to put a couple things together - why bitty wanted him away from Mrs. B, why bitty was acting so weird, why suzanne was being so friendly

so chowder, bless his tender lil heart, plays along

“oh! uh!! well, i just want! to impress my...boyfriend?! my boyfriend’s mom!!”

dex and nursey are beyond confused; lardo has to leave the room so she can laugh

this is Not What Bitty Wanted, however

and then

enter Jack Zimmermann

bitty is just about ready to curl up in a corner and die of Shame

so Suzanne does her whole heart-eyes Jack Zimmermann routine, asking after his father and yadda yadda

but jack definitely heard everything with chowder. and as jealous as he is, it was also hilarious.

and we all know jack l zimmermann is kind of a little shit

“so I see you’ve met bitty’s boyfriend” he says in his best monotone

(now ransom has to leave because he’s about to wet himself holding back laughter)

“oh, yes, jack, i’ve finally gotten dicky to introduce me, you’d think he didn’t want me to meet sweet christopher”

bitty’s done. he’s leaving samwell immediately. already has a new name picked out for himself, is gonna hitchhike west and dye his hair brown and never speak to anyone east of albuquerque again

“oh, i can’t believe he’s being shy about chowder,” jack says, knowing that he’s probably getting himself into Trouble but plowing forward regardless. “they’ve been together almost a year now”

“WHAT.” is the reaction that comes from three different people in three very different inflections

(now dex and nursey are taking bets; holster is recording the whole thing to send to shitty; ransom and lardo are watching from the hallway)

“oh, yeah,” jack continues on, with what is probably his Funniest and Most Terrible joke ever. “after they both got dumped by their dates at Winter Screw. right, Bittle?”

bitty has his face buried in his hands. chowder is Beyond Confused as to why jack’s taking it this far.

suzanne is THRILLED

so Jack is weaving this long, ridiculous story of the Epic BittyChowder romance that never was and chowder’s starting to feel uncomfortable about the way suzanne is staring at him and bitty is going to Murder his boyfriend if the mortification doesn’t kill him first

“...which is why I’m here today. to fight for bitty’s hand.”

yup. jack 110% zimmermann Goes There.

“you’re in love with my dicky too??” “do i....do i really have to fight jack??!”

and bitty sees the look in jack’s eyes, the imperceptible nod, and the dam finally bursts: “mother, i’m not dating chowder. and i never wanted you to think i was, but chris was just trying to help me out.”

and suzanne’s face falls and chowder sort of awkwardly...runs away...to stand in the hall with lardo and ransom

“but then why is jack here?” suzanne asks,

and jack wraps his arm around bitty’s shoulder, smiling down at bitty, and bitty finally gets to say to his mama, “because he’s my boyfriend, mother.”

suzanne Freaks Out and cries a little and calls bob. in that order.

but before all of that she hugs them both tight and refuses to let go.

(years down the road, they play holster’s camera-phone video of the whole Ordeal at the zimmermann-bittle wedding. chowder literally never lives down the chirps, but hey -- that’s what best men are for.)

#when i originally wrote this i think it was before the last round of upates #so i didn't exactly know when or how bitty and jack would come out to the team #ANYWAY just pretend family weekend was....a lot later this year #this has been in my drafts forever #check please!#bittychowder #(kinda sorta not really)#fake dating #zimbits

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mothzi · 7 years

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To see a universe in a petri dish

I almost titled this post Reflections on Writing but that sounds like a pretentious Medium article written by an ambitious sleep-deprived intern stuck doing copywriting in a design company. At least this current one is manifestly ridiculous with no pretension otherwise.

This post is years in the making. I’ve got many different drafts of it, but it has never come out right: words keep failing me, or rather, I keep failing words. But I’m steamrolling ahead anyway. If you are kind enough to be reading this, please hold on tight, and give me a chance to try.

I want to talk about stories. Stories have evolved in form; they used to come between hard covers, now they have been liberated. But in structure they are still mostly the same. We are taught this in primary school, elementary school, the basic education level: that you must have a plot, a narrative. This plot is a journey, taking you from point A to point B. There is a main character (or a few main characters), whose back story(ies) and character growth (or in some cases, decline) drive, parallel, or is otherwise the main narrative. Stories have become so complicated now, of course (pick-your-own-adventure, anyone?), but the basic formula remains in that there must be this central cord—a spine—running through the story. Picture this like a satay: the narrative is the skewer, the meat (or mushroom, or other ingredients you like) are the other goodies like characters, world building, universe logic, great art, good looking actors, and the likes. The sauce can be the smut--some people think it’s not necessary, some people think you can’t have satay without it, most enjoy it anyway.

(Satay comes to mind because I’m South East Asian after all; feel free to substitute it for corndog, or other delicious skewered things that you like)

(I’ve never had a corndog before. Is it nice?)

But what if there is no main driving narrative, apart from the very loose and general narrative of the advance of time? Bear with me: forget about the story satay. What if we have a petri dish, fill that petri dish up, not with agar, but with water. Drop a few pollens onto the surface of that water. Now put the petri dish under a stereo microscope. What do you see?

You’d see the pollens moving about randomly with no clear discerned pattern whatsoever. This is because of Brownian Motion: millions of water molecules in that petri dish are colliding against the pollens, moving them this way and than that.

Let’s stretch this concept further then, imagine the petri dish is a storyverse. The pollens are characters. There is no main narrative drive here, no one can tell the pollens where to go. Sometimes the pollens bump against one another. Sometimes they end up going in the same direction. Sometimes they split apart. Sometimes they never meet. But they exist in the same storyverse, and each of their actions affect everything else in the petri dish in minuscule but real ways.

And imagine this, each story is basically that moment in time when you peer down the microscope and note the position of a pollen. In this storyverse, there are so many stories, all of which are self-contained episodes of a character or a few characters’ uncertain journey, a snapshot of their state in that moment in time. You can just stop there and step away from the story and move on with your life (please don’t), but read more stories and you get a sense of the character’s journey, as well as the universe as a whole.

What is this petri dish storytelling not? It is not necessarily boring--in fact, I’d like to think it allows for the audience to pour deeper emotional investments. The traditional storytelling arc is not necessarily excluded out. It’s just a different way of approaching the storytelling itself, of placing emphasis and focus on different elements of the stories, which in this case, should be on the characters, or an aspect of the characters.

This kind of storytelling is different from, say, the kind that Marvel is popularising now with MCU (although superhero comics and sci-fi books and TVs themselves have always been an MCU style storytelling). This kind of storytelling is like a tree that keeps branching, and each branch is as important a narrative spine as the other.

That kind of storytelling (which some people, for good reason, call it franchise storytelling) focuses on the universe--the world building--first and foremost. Yes, the characters can be compelling, but the characters are also vehicles to discover the universe, where there is a big purple dude with even bigger chin sitting on a chair wearing a glove with gems embedded in it, or where Kessel runs can be accomplished in 12 parsecs, or where there are 11 registered magical schools hidden all over the world!

But in the petri dish storyverse, the universe is just like that water in the petri dish, a medium. It can be something more--tons of exciting things can happen in the background, for example, birds, especially pigeons, could have risen up and taken over human civilisation. But it’s not treated as an attraction for the reader--the main focus is still on the characters going about their otherwise boring normal lives in the context of the universe. It doesn’t have to be necessarily slice-of-life, but it is descriptive and intimate. We follow the characters not to explore the universe, but because we’re nosy and maybe obsessed.

This is the kind of story that I’ve been trying to tell--and it’s sort of embarrassing to admit this--for years now. I thought (I still do think this) that there is no way it can work, chiefly for the reason that in a petri dish storyverse, there is no jumping on point. How do you introduce a story to someone? You give them the first book, the first issue, the first episode. There has to be a beginning. And most people want to know why they should be interested: this is the premise of the story, and most of the time this is best represented by the narrative spine, or a quirk of the world building. So I thought, no, there has to be the proper definitive story, and everything else can branch off it.

But it just doesn’t feel right! Yes, I can certainly attribute it to my being a weak writer and egregiously weak in narrative writing. It may also be the fact that I’m impatient and have the attention span of a fruit fly, and I want to be able to focus on a lot more characters than what can fit in a satay-story. A big theme of my writing is loneliness and uncertainty, and I feel that by trying to write a narrative driven story I deprive the characters of this space to explore their loneliness and uncertainty, and their interaction with others also struggling with their own loneliness and uncertainty.

In any case, I personally enjoy stories that force me to engage and think harder. I thought about this while watching Logan: I loved that a lot of the big events that might merit extended flashback or exposition scenes in other superhero movies are referred to obliquely, treating the audience as someone who’s been there all along. Storytellers who do this, in my opinion, are showing their audience a lot of respect and trust, and I appreciate that a lot. I spent months, years, trying to find a way to “make things easier” for the hypothetical reader. This is what I have to do when designing websites and UX/UI interface: make life easy for the user, incentivise them to go along.

But do I really have to dismantle everything for the purposes of making life easier for the hypothetical reader in this case?

I don’t think anyone notices this, but a tag I’ve been using in the past few months is “I’m going back to the start”, mostly because that line got stuck in my head after I spent a night depressed listening to Coldplay’s The Scientist in a loop (yeah, it was that bad of a night).

youtube

(It was the Glee’s rendition too. It was quite a bad night).

I have gone back to the drawing board and starting all over again in terms of the character stories, motivations, and main events in the universe. But there is no “start” for me to get to. The pollens are always moving in the petri dish, you are free to peer into the microscope at anytime to see where they are now.

So I’ll just post whatever I want with clean conscience now. Well, I’ll still be wrecked with anxiety and self-doubt and self-hatred and crippling desperation for validation, but I’ll try to feel not as bad that I’m not posting A Main Novel. Everything counts, from painfully unfunny sketches to a longish comic to a 500 word story to the smut--all of these count. I’ll still try to make it as easy as possible for anyone interested in say a character to find their way around (for example, the tags are literally fixed to each post for easy access, and I’ve designed a very prominent search field in my theme for this purpose). After all, I still do fervently wish to have more readers, if not partners-in-crime who can tackle this petri dish universe with me.

Oh, I so do hope this post makes sense. It probably shows, but I have no academic training in creative or fine writing. I’ve never even taken literature in my life (and I’m the poorer for it). So all the above are really my own conjectures as I try to justify and self-validate what I am doing.

If you’ve read this far, thank you for reading. Thank you for even being here on this blog reading this. Please give me a chance to entertain you as much as I’m entertaining myself doing this.

#writing #storytelling #meta

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totallyinedible · 7 years

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Mother's Blessing

It's true what they say; if you're mother is not happy with you, nothing will go your way until you please her. Myth or not, it's happening. I'm not sure if this is the case, really. What I know though is that this has been a hell week, and it hasn't ended yet.

Let me start with my freelance project from last week. Yousef came to me and practically threw a project my way. It's unpaid, which is fine as I am credited as an editor and author. My issue with entire project was the extreme lack of organization. I understand that everything was last minute and I would have been able to accommodate that well into my unusually long (and highly anticipated) weekend. However, Yousef did not brief me well on the project. In fact, I received the working emails from Omar and I still had no idea what they wanted from me. I texted Omar saying that I have no clue what I'm supposed to be doing. Omar was shocked and replied back telling me what I'm supposed to be doing. In a nutshell, Omar asked me to transcribe an hour-long audio that is spoken in 3arabeezi so that I can edit it into Classic Arabic and then translate it fully into English.

I'm not sure if at that point, Omar or Yousef were aware of how much time such thing requires, as well as how many pages that would take from their book. I complied, even though I was really in a dire need for that long weekend after working on the previous freelance project. I started on the project at home on Monday, visited their office on Tuesday to continue working in their presence, and then continued on the first day of my long weekend at their office. I got there at 16:00 and started transcribing again. I finished transcribing late evening and showed it to Yousef. Yousef was like, "we cannot have 4500 words in the book. We just wanted an introduction, not the interview as is." That wasn't told to me before I started working. Instead of transcribing 4500 words, I could have listened to the interview for one hour, while taking notes of the important things I'd like to discuss in the introduction. I wouldn't have wasted 3 days to work on something rendered useless at the end of it.

That by itself made me go nuts. I was already in a terrible mood throughout all of it, but this was like the last straw. Why would they make me do 3-days worth of work for me not to use it? That night, I wrote up a crappy draft of the introduction in English and called it a night... At 2.30 am. Next day, I really didn't want to see Yousef or Omar after what they've done to me and I decided to work from home. I did so, and I made plans that night to leave the house and take breather. I had to keep pushing the plans until it was 10:30. Hanna came and picked me up to watch a movie, but until then, I was going back and forth with Yousef about the text I've written and sent in English and Arabic. I decided to ignore my phone the entire hang out because I needed to take my mind off of things. As soon as Hanna dropped me back home, I find messages from Yousef asking me to join him at Starbucks. At that point, it was already 1 am. I wanted to murder him. But I said yes anyway. I went to Starbucks and ended up staying there till 5 am. I got in bed at 6 in the morning. It was not fun. I was furious. I wanted to kill someone. But at least the project was finished by then...

What wasn't finished by then though is my fluccuating state of mind. Earlier that day, and due to the stress, I ended up yelling at my mom for asking me her usual intrusive questions. As I just said, it's not uncommon for mom to put her nose in my business. But on Friday, she accused me of mistreating her friends, asked a million questions about my time at my friends' office, to which she knew the answers by the way, and then started asking me questions based on stalking me on Instagram. After that final question, I exploded and told her to stop asking me such questions and she yelled back the usual "I'm your mother, lower down your voice and watch your tone!" kinda thing.

She hasn't spoken to me since...

While it's really good that I am not getting questions for every move I make, this silent treatment is fucked up. On one hand, I'm not the kind of person who likes being on bad terms with his mother. I like there to be mutual respect. And even though I disrespected her 'authority', she did not have the right in the first place to question me like that. I usually play along, but I needed to be left alone on that day and that weekend. On the other hand, I expected her to calm down like she always does when we fight. I even got her Knafeh the next day as a silent form of apology, because she loves them and I never buy them for her. She refused to eat any of it, like she refuses to talk to me still. What's stopping from going and talking to her are two things; first is that my mom needs to understand that what she does is super nosy. I hate lying to my mom, but I am a private person. I have issues being fully open to my friends, let alone my control-freak of a mother. I don't want her to think that it's okay to keep meddling and asking things that I don't feel comfortable sharing with her.

Sometimes, I end up lying about things that are not worth lying about, such as who the friend I'm going out with is - simply because of the follow up questions. If I say something like, I'm going to Abdullah's, she won't ask anything afterwards for instance.

Am I happy with the current situation? Not one bit! It is weighing heavy on my heart and it's keeping my mind at an all-time depressed mode. My sleep is not comfortable, my work is distracted, and my presence with friends is passive. Which brings me to another topic; friends.

I've always had a deep problem with people who leave. October 4th, Karim, who's engagement party is today, leaves. On October 5th, Osama, who lives and works in Qatar but is here for a short vacation, leaves. On October 6th, Saif, who came back to Amman over a year ago and been having game nights with weekly ever since, leaves. That is 3 people that I interact with heavily. That is 3 people from IAA. That is 3 people I already said goodbye to before and was glad to find our ways back. I'm being selfish here, I realize that. Karim is in the middle of his pHD, and he needs to go back to UK to continue. Osama obviously cannot leave work, and in February embarks on his next adventure is a Master's student in Australia. Saif has got a super exclusive opportunity as a researcher at Harvard and he'd be an idiot to let it go.

I've said goodbye to the same people once we finished school, but this is not the same situation. Back then, I felt I was being left behind in terms of education. Everyone was getting top international education by some of the finest universities in the world. This time around, I do not have jealousy in me. I have accomplished a lot this year, and I'm sure that what I really want to pursue is coming down the line sooner or later. This time, I simply feel left behind - as a person, and as a friend.

This takes me to the next topic - work. For the past two weeks, it's been unstable at work. The atmosphere was too tense for my comfort and I ended up hitting up my boss's office for an open conversation about what's going on. While she told me I shouldn't be worried - and at this point, I no longer am - all of this opened the door for my mind to wander. As much as I love Bayt, I don't want to stay there forever. But there are big issues as to where I should head next.

For a while now, the idea of working in the video game industry has been dancing in my head. The only issue is that I don't know what I can offer the industry. I am an architect, not a designer. One great thing about working at Bayt is that it's giving me the chance to develop my design skills, but at this point my services will not be enough for anything any video game company would normally ask for. I would say writing is the way to go, but writing what exactly? This year I managed to have my name on 4 different publications, which should be a good support to help me land a position in a gaming company, but I cannot imagine what I'd be doing. Writing video game stories is something saved for experts and not newcomers. I can't say I have thought about it vigorously, but I am staying with Bayt for at least another year. As I said, I need to work on my design skills, and maybe now focus harder than before on that, so that when it's time to apply, I have a solid background to push me to the next level. In the meantime, I will try to find new freelance projects related to the gaming field.

I already feel slightly at ease after writing all this down. I have an engagement party to go to in a couple of hours and I was in no position to go with my state of mind. At least now, I am capable of maintaining a fake smile and maybe... Just maybe... Actually enjoy myself for the night. I hope my mom comes back to her senses before I end up losing mine...

Update: My dad fell off a ladder today, and my sister who is now in Paris was diagonized with anxiety and mild depression. I have no energy to discuss those after this post. I will try that later.

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