#I did read through some of your other poem ask post and they were very very nice and lovely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

campgender · 2 months

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i was scrolling your “life is in your home too” tag, which I love btw, and saw a post about how you learned to be a good dom from experienced expert doms by reading how they dom and some of their best scenes, do you think you could point me in the direction of some resources for me to study that too? thanks in advance, if not, thanks anyway!

(post referenced is here - link 1)

first of all tysm for this ask (+ your incredibly kind follow-up), it was a delight to receive + i’ve been wanting an excuse to talk about a lot of this for a while so i very much appreciate the interest!

as always please keep in mind that i am Just Some Fem, nothing is universal including when it comes to D/s & i can only speak to what works for me. i try to focus on starting points rather than specifics but ultimately my advice will always be limited by what i needed to hear & wasn’t told, which may not be what’s helpful for a different person. with that being said, here’s some suggestions!

i’ve posted a previous reading list (link 2) with relevant recs; particularly the practicality + sex writing sections have the kind of thing you’re looking for. specifically, The New Topping Book (2003) is a solid starting point; i definitely have my issues with it (haven’t read it recently enough to recall many specifics but i have the sense of general pervasive racism & ableism) but it did a good job at making me think & i appreciate the supportive tone they were going for

another book added to my tbr since then is Coming to Power (link 3), released by SAMOIS in 1983

other authors whose sex writing has been influential in my life: Sandra Cisneros, Natalie Diaz, Joan Nestle, Judy Grahn

the fic At The End of His Rope by Letterblade (link 4) is genuinely some of my favorite sex writing of all time & accomplishes the incredibly impressive feat of representing a broad array of dom styles & changes over time in the same piece

my “impurity culture” tag (link 5) houses the building blocks of my sexual ethic

i’ve found many of those foundations by poking around the incredible bodies of work original & archived @newsmutproject @woman-loving @gatheringbones

for me, studying sex is the same as studying poetry – reading for craft is a different process than for pleasure (not that there isn’t a great deal of pleasure to be found in such practice, especially for sadists – perhaps that’s why as a child i never resonated with Billy Collins’ “Introduction to Poetry,” like i love tying poems to chairs & beating them idk what to tell you). so, keeping in mind that these are suggestions not requirements, here’s how i read for + work on craft:

there is no such thing as too much journaling. this can take whatever form you prefer – voice memo, discord message to yourself, the noble notes app, your own personal sexy red string corkboard, a vast & stunning array of other approaches i can’t even begin to imagine. i personally have an elaborate web of spreadsheets & google docs lmao. what matters is developing a collection of ideas you want to play with + a practice of continually reflecting on past experiences.

pay attention to structure, not just content. find a scene you think is disjointed and pick at the seams, brainstorm better transitions. then find a scene that flows so smoothly it carries you with it and figure out what makes it work.

rewrite a scene you’re drawn to or affected by to suit your own preferences. i first did this when i couldn’t shake “Interlude 3” (link 6) from my head after reading The New Topping Book; you can read my variation on the theme here (link 7) if you’re interested.

write or think through a scene fantasy you have from negotiation to aftercare. obviously it’s very difficult if not impossible to fully script a scene in advance; the purpose isn’t planning something you’ll later do but rather getting used to coming up with ideas to get from one disparate moment / act to the next.

revisit a scene you’ve read, written, thought about, etc and list the physical & mental acts that are required / expected of the sub (eg, kneeling for 10 minutes; making eye contact; counting to 30, etc). then rework the scene for a sub who has the same interests & goals who cannot do 20% (or 50%, or any) of these acts.

revisit a previous scene and list the places where you think a sub might safeword & why. then rework it with the sub safewording somewhere that isn’t any of these places.

i also recommend keeping in mind that like… for me, reading about ethical sex can often be a very distressing process for the same reason that it’s liberating: because it proves that things i’ve experienced are not the way sex has to be. i’ll tell this story in its fullness one day but the first time i read S/HE by Minnie Bruce Pratt i literally had a flashback to events i’d repressed for years, it was devastating, i’m so grateful for it. hell, in the process of compiling resources for this post i cried twice editing this quote (link 8) because between reading that book the first time & now someone did “respond with scorn or ridicule” when i safeworded. so i would really encourage folks to approach this kind of work with as much grace & comfort for yourself as you can muster or borrow – if it’s really fucking hard, you’re not alone in that, & it’s okay to take your time + pace yourself + seek support.

your + others’ interest is definitely motivating me to actually write posts i’ve been tossing around for months so thank you again & feel free to keep an eye out for more shut-in sex tips in my new “tomorrow sexting will be good again” tag. would love to hear your thoughts on any of this post / these or other books / whatever really lol. wishing you all the best & i hope today is kind to you! 💓

#asks #D/s #reading lists #mac.txt #tomorrow sexting will be good again

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queer-ragnelle · 5 months

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Hi! Your flowchart is amazing, and I'm so excited by the literature list you made. However, I was wondering if you know which book is best to start reading more about Arthurian legend? I have only collected knowledge through osmosis, so I have no clue where or how to start learning more. Thank you for your time and have a nice day!

hello!

thank you, i'm glad they're helpful for you! i did answer a similar ask about what medieval texts to begin with here and link to free resources, but the formatting is hard on the eyes, and now that my own collection is available, i'll reiterate. all suggested translations are available on my blog.

le morte d'arthur by sir thomas malory: you'll get the most mileage out of this book as malory sourced a broad spectrum of stories to incorporate them into a single text, which includes arthur's conception, pulling the sword from the stone, receiving excalibur from the lady of the lake, marrying to guinevere, young gawain's knighting and first quest, tristan and isolde's romance, the grail quest, final battle at camlann etc. plus malory himself invented some of the most iconic stories, such as gareth's time as the kitchen boy, beaumains. with this book alone, the majority of retellings will make sense to you. but be warned it can be extremely dry (and confusing timeline wise, calogrenant dies twice bc malory couldn't keep his own story straight!), i recommend the keith baines translation as it's rewritten into prose like a novel.

the vulgate cycle: it's 10 books. i know it's 10 books. but it's simply the best. the truncated nature of malory's le morte d'arthur leaves the majority of characters reduced to singular traits (orkney bros the mindless killers, priggish grail knights etc.) which has negatively influenced many retellings since imo. this is not an issue with the vulgate where everyone has a little more nuance and depth, even the bad guys, but especially the characters we're supposed to root for like lancelot and gawain. many fun characters who were cut from le morte d'arthur are fully developed here like half-giant galehaut and gawain's baby mama the lady of lys. i'm putting it high on the list bc i simply think more people should try it. i recommend the translation edited by norris j. lacy. he's incredible and i love all of his translation work. footnotes right in the margin will remind the reader of past references and explain language subtleties lost in translation (like puns) or indicate what was changed for ease of understanding (sometimes the scribes made mistakes and named the wrong character, which lacy will fix and then note he fixed). so if one can get past the sheer volume of text, it's a wonderful read, and i even have specific stories within it i could recommend. but i digress...

sir gawain and the green knight: it goes without saying this poem is iconic. the pearl poet (as the anonymous author is called) wrote beautifully and the version of gawain here is a much kinder portrayal than what he appears in the post vulgate, which was a major source for malory's le morte d'arthur. the beheading exchange/game is the focus here, although this motif will appear in many other texts, such as perlesvaus, and the sgatgk story appears in the majority of retellings that include gawain, so it's a must read. i recommend the j. r. r. tolkien translation (the audiobook version of this translation is phenomenal, like music).

four arthurian romances + the story of the grail by chrétien de troyes: except you can skip cligés bc its mediocre at best. really what you'll need from this is knight of the cart (the first ever story in which lancelot appears and he's very pathetic and weepy and insane and lovable haters dni), knight with the lion (gawain's cousin yvain gets a pet lion, fights a dragon, gets married, gets divorced, goes mad, recovers, gets married again...), erec and enide (worst husband in the universe), and the story of the grail (perceval and gawain adventures). a version of these stories were adapted into le morte d'arthur and the vulgate (except for yvain's lion which is a bummer!). i recommend the nigel bryant translation of perceval and william kibler translations for the rest. when you reach the end of the story of the grail and it cuts mid-sentence...well, sadly we don't know what happened to poor chrétien that kept him from completing his story. but there are four continuations written by other people, plus the german parzival is great as well (and has one of my favorite of gawain's wives, the haughty maiden of logres, orgeluse).

the mabinogion: some of the same stories as chrétien but of welsh origin plus extras. haters will try to pit two bad bitches against each other, but these texts go hand in hand. i like the whimsical vibes of this version and the magical powers given to the characters, such as kay's ability to grow to the size of a tree and set things on fire with his hands or bedwyr's ability to strike faster than all other knights despite having only one hand. it also gives owain (welsh version of yvain) an army of ravens that kill people in addition to his lion, arthur has an invisibility mantle (also referenced in the welsh triads), and the whole gang fights the demon boar twrch trwyth to steal the golden comb off his head. good stuff. i recommend the translation by lady charlotte guest.

the wedding of sir gawain and dame ragnelle: obviously this has to be included. i'm biased but at the same time, it is supposed that sir thomas malory actually wrote this poem! which i think is pretty neat. additionally, 99% of retellings include ragnelle as gawain's wife. in fact, excluding the ones in which he doesn't have a partner at all, i can only think of one in which he marries someone else. dame ragnelle is the people's darling, all of us arthurian authors agreed that in spite of our differing opinions about everything else in the stories, she is the wife of all time. and we're right. a thing of beauty. this text does not have a translation, it's just in middle english, which can be challenging to read. this version edited by thomas hahn has footnotes to help or otherwise i recommend the version retold by selina hastings and illustrated by juan wijngaard, it's gorgeous, and includes all the fun supporting cast like kay and guinevere.

this was a long list with probably more explanation than necessary but it can be difficult to narrow down a single place to begin with arthuriana as each story builds on the literary tradition that came before. everyone is sharing and influencing one another so stories and motifs are repeated, each author writes for their time, slightly altering the technology and culture to reflect their own lived experience, so the narrative evolved as the centuries passed into what we have today. thanks for this ask and hope you enjoy reading!

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violettduchess · 1 year

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hii i saw you’re opening requests for tis the season for love! may i request leon with prompt two? thank you so much :3

A/N: Here you are @leonscape !

A fic for the Tis the Season for Love CCC hosted by @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore

Leon x Reader

Word Count: 651

The salon is bathed in the warm, flickering orange and golds of firelight, highlighting the dark wood and deep reds of the velvet furniture. You are curled up on the end of the couch, one hand holding a small volume of recently translated Tanzanite poetry. The other is running a continuous path through the lustrous jungle of Leon’s rich, chocolate brown hair. He’s laying, long limbs stretched out on the sofa, golden eyes on the fire, listening to you read out loud. He’s not really paying much attention to the words. He just enjoys the sound of your voice, the rise and fall of it, your inflection and intonation, as you earnestly read poems describing feelings of love and loss and loneliness. You’ve reached the final poem and read the last line:

“The indifferent have only one soul, but when you love, you have two.”

If sighs could have colors, yours would be the softest, most romantic shades of pink and lavender. What a beautiful collection, you think dreamily as you lay the now finished volume down on the end table, lost for a moment in that ephemeral place that a writer leads you to with their words, a place that dissipates like stardust as reality slowly seeps back in.

“The emotions the author manages to convey, the allusions and imagery, the way they describe the depths of grief and the heights of love….” you trail off, your mind still filled with words and phrases and images as you reach for the cup of hot chocolate next to the closed book. “What did you think?”, you ask, glancing down at the head in your lap. No response. The fingers that are still combing his hair stop and then playfully tweak one of the locks that’s sticking straight up.

“Oi!” he exclaims as he rolls onto his back, head still pillowed on your thigh, his gaze traveling from the firelight to your face.

“Were you listening at all?”

His lips curl into a sheepish grin. “Something about love….and two souls?”

The roll of your eyes has him laughing softly, a sound as warm and fulfilling as the cup of hot chocolate you lift to your lips. Yves never disappoints you think as you take a sip of the velvety sweet drink.

Suddenly the head that was on your lap lifts as Leon pushes himself up, eyes shining now with interest.

“You still have some left?” His own empty mug sits in solitude next to the volume of poetry, empathizing with all the heartbreak within its pages

“Had.” You tip your cup to show him you’ve drained it to the very last drop.

He tilts his head, at first dismayed by this turn off events, but instead of succumbing to the sadness of there being no more, he is struck by some divine inspiration.

“I know a way I can still have some.” And then he is leaning towards you, his large hands cupping your face. And his mouth is on yours, parting your lips, a deep, soul-scorching kiss that would normally be kiss number five or six in line and not number one. But he wants a taste of that hot chocolate and will do whatever it takes to get it.

He kisses you breathless. He chases every single bit of chocolatey essence that clings to your lips, your tongue. By the time he is done, you’re left dizzy, your heart spinning wildly in your chest and your mind as melted as the chocolate in your drink.

“We must tell Yves,” he murmurs, “how much we enjoyed the hot chocolate.” You’re both sliding down the couch, his body covering yours in a way that sends a promising heat cartwheeling through you.

“Oh we will,” you answer, wrapping your arms around his neck, admiring the gold of his eyes, the flame in them miniatures of the roaring fireplace. “In the morning.”

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri leon #ikemen leon #leon dompteur #leon x reader #tis the season for love content creation challenge #christmas fluff #fluff fic #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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1dmonthlyficroundup · 2 years

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1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for October 2022! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

🔹Do You Have a Reservation? by zmmf / @zaynmaliksmiddlefinger [M, 7k, Zayn/Liam]

Any shift in a restaurant devoid of chaos is probably not a lucrative one —but some are just that extra bit hectic.

Zayn sometimes has to remind himself that with a tight knit crew, you can get through just about anything.

🔹Where Words Fail, Music Speaks by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow [M, 45k, Louis/Harry]

Louis is a world class violinist. He’s one year over forty, living his best life in New York. One day, he comes to a small town in Connecticut where he inherited a house from his late father. The town looks nice and its people welcome him warmly. The problem is that Louis never knew his father and he doesn’t intend to change anything about it - his father can stuff his last will up his treacherous ass. In a strange coincidence, Louis meets town troubadour Harry, who seems wonderful to him just right until he reveals that Louis’ father was like a dad to him.

Even though Louis tries to convince himself that it shouldn’t - it hurts.

written for 1D Silver Fox Fest

🔹Just Pretend by @kingsofeverything [E, 90k, Harry/Louis]

Louis Tomlinson is a divorced dad who doesn't date. What free time he has, he likes to spend with his teenage daughter, and if he wants to take someone home, he does it when she's spending the weekend with her mom.

Then he meets Harry Styles, another divorced dad with a teenage daughter, who convinces him it’s a good idea to pretend they're dating to keep their kids happy.

🔹honey, honey by @kingsofeverything [NR, 100 words, Louis/Harry]

Poem, drabble.

🔹Monday by @nouies [NR, 2k, Louis/Harry]

A flower shop AU featuring a one-sided feud, puns, and a missing cat.

🔹reckless behaviour by @nouies [E, 13k, Harry/Louis]

Harry is a retired football player looking for a new opportunity. Louis is the image consultant hired to help him find it.

🔹Sore Throat by stretchmybones / @harryslonecurl [E, 864 words, Harry/Louis]

Louis complained about having a sore throat on stage during tour and this is what happened beforehand.

🔹Could Be A Catastrophe by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal [E, 29k, Louis/Harry]

He watched as the other man scrunched up his nose, but slid his hand into Louis' nonetheless. “So, where are we going?”

Louis rolled his eyes at the change in subject. “To get some lunch and then I was hoping I could come back to yours?” He glanced over at the taller man with pleading eyes.

Harry’s eyes widened. “That’s very forward of you.”

Louis eyebrows scrunched before he realized the implication behind his words, “Oh. No. Shit. Sorry. I just meant that I wanted to hang out with your cats.”

Or Louis is one of the two veterinarians in town and somehow gets lucky enough for Harry’s three cats to be his clients.

🔹Drunk On Your Lips by Kikiberoski16 / @larrysballetslippers [E, 4k, Harry/Louis]

“Yeah? I’m Louis, does it ring a bell?” She bowed, it was adorable. Harry could follow her long locks sway as she went down. It was hypnotizing. Harry always envied the girls that could grow their hair to their bra. Louis was one of them, while Harry was forever stuck to her curly bob. When she got up again, Harry witnessed a smirk.

That smirk gave her so many feelings. Harry felt like she had known it for ages, but it hurt for no reason at all. Even worse, it stung, Harry just remembered feeling a sharp pain in her chest. “You know what? It does. I remember not liking you.”

🔹wonder what it's like by eynap / @panye [E, 4k, Niall/Shawn Mendes]

“Did you call up a model to fuck you?” Shawn asks from across the room. “I’ve heard of this happening to my coworkers.”

“No, I tried to use magic to make a copy of you from a magazine I had. Or, like, make the photo come to life. I didn’t mean to…” Niall shakes his head. This is mortifying. “I can send you back, hold on.”

Or, Niall uses his Halloween magic to make photos of the male model he's obsessed with come to life. Instead, he accidentally summons the real-life model, Shawn, to his workroom.

🔹You're The Pumpkin Of My Eye by @faithinwalls369 [G, 4k, Harry/Louis]

Harry and Louis go on a seasonal date, that is sweeter than the confectionery in a trick or treat bucket. It’s filled with sweet snuggles, cute kisses and pumpkin picking.

🔹i wish that i could take you to the stars by me_her_themoon / @dreamersdivin-headfirst [E, 31k, Louis/Harry]

Niall is the director and writer of a stage play and he casts his best friend, Harry, as the star of his new play, “Me, Him, and the Moon,” as a prince who’s mesmerized by the moon. When he meets his sunshine-embodied costar, Louis, who is playing the role of a boy who’s deeply enamored with the stars, he learns more about himself and his relationship with love than ever before.

[also, liam is the makeup artist who loves to gossip and zayn is the costume designer who thinks liam is cute]

🔹Under the Milky Way by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom [E, 11k, Harry/Louis]

Louis had always been a prankster, but being on tour provided him with countless opportunities to hone his skills with silly jokes and games, harmless really, and all in good fun. That was until the night he accidentally ended up in the wrong hotel room and dumped a bucket of iced water over a complete stranger.

Or the one where Louis is a rock star on tour, Harry is a free lance photographer, and drinking red wine under the stars might just be worth the hangover.

🔹Who do you belong to? by @huggieshalo [E, 3k, Louis/Harry]

“I trust you. You’ll take care of me like I take care of you.” Louis said.

And Harry believes him.

Or the one where they switch roles because it’s good to spice things up from time to time

🔹You Can Let it Go by @huggieshalo [M, 8k, Harry/Louis]

An alternative story where Harry is Matilda, who never stayed with Miss Honey and had to leave with his awful family. After years of being closed off, someone shows him that his life doesn't have to stay the way it is…

🔹something to dream about by @disgruntledkittenface [M, 100 words, Louis/Harry]

Louis gives Harry something to dream about while she's gone.

🔹Could We Live With Just A Taste? by @lululawrence [NR, 17k, Louis/Harry/Nick Grimshaw]

“Green eyes…” Louis mused in the living room. “I swear I’ll come up with something that rhymes with that soon enough. I will.”

“Oh god, you’ve been smoking. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known you’d been smoking,” Nick moaned as he turned the corner fully and saw the way Louis was sprawled out on the sofa, his head in Harry’s lap as he poked his fingers into Harry’s dimples.

“Nicholas!” Louis cheered, sitting up. “We’ve not been smoking, but we are a little high. Just a bit. Sit here, sit here. I invited you, which means you’re mine tonight, not Harry’s. Got that?”

Nick looked at Harry with his eyes raised. “Am I usually young Harold’s possession? Here I was thinking I was my own person.”

Both Harry and Louis’ faces scrunched up in looks of distaste causing Niall to laugh.

“Possessive fuckers. Let’s just start the film.”

Or the one where Louis, Harry, and Nick all take awhile to figure things out, but they get there eventually.

🔹Anytime, Everytime by @laynefaire [G, 100 words, Zayn/Liam]

They say confession is good for the soul, but what about the heart? Can it find the right words?

🔹Doin' Somethin' Right by @laynefaire [E, 5k, Zayn/Liam]

Liam is certain he's finally put all the pieces of the puzzle back together. He was back on stage with his boys, doing what he loved, in front of the fans who had never forgotten them. He'd also reunited with Zayn, rekindling the love they'd once thought had been lost forever.

While Liam craved the bright lights and excitement of being on the road, Zayn has eschewed his prior fame, instead choosing a life of relative obscurity as the owner of a vineyard and bed and breakfast in Dauphin County, Pennsylvania.

Liam is determined to protect Zayn's privacy at all costs, but some days the separation is harder than others.

Written for the 1D Country Fic Fest, and inspired by the song Must be Doin' Somethin' Right by Billy Currington.

🔹Hair of the Dog by @laynefaire [G, 100 words, Zayn/Liam]

Sometimes, it's the little things that matter most.

🔹More Than a Mic Drop by @haztobegood [E, 7k, Louis/Harry]

“You dropped the mic last night.”

“Oh, yeah. I did.” Louis gives a little shrug. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his baggy grey sweatpants.

“That was really careless.” His tone is very stern, unlike his usual bubbly and helpful voice when he suggests Louis try singing a chorus for the third time as he adjusts the sound mix again. Harry levels him a serious look and suddenly the room feels too hot. “You could have broken the mic and we don’t have a lot of spares.”

🔹under all the summer skies by @orchidsbyjune [G, 4k, Harry/Louis]

“I wait every year for summer, and it is usually good, but it is never as good as that summer I am always waiting for.”

- Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn; in a letter to Hortense Flexner and Wincie King.

Or The summers in which Louis was in love.

🔹the scent of love by @orchidsbyjune [T, 3k, Louis/Harry]

“ As a constant, Paris would often wonder what makes someone somebody. They would, as any other, spend a lot of their time just guessing what brings life to someone. They live by the guesswork, and the fun it brings just trying to figure out what keeps them up, what brought them the courage to leave everything behind and see the world out there. ”

— A story of survival, of courage and love.

🔹love letters by @orchidsbyjune [T, 940 words, Louis/Harry]

It’s a love letter.

🔹Driftwood by @justanothershadeofblue [M, 51k, Harry/Louis]

Eroda was all Harry knew. He lived there all his life, but he always knew he was peculiar. He had dreams that go beyond this small, cold, and lonely island. He wanted to leave; he HAD to leave. But that meant leaving Louis...

Harry is a lonely and depressed popstar who sailed out of his hometown on Eroda years ago to chase his dreams. He comes back to the island only to find his shining childhood best friend Louis just as cold and dreary as the island they grew up on.

🔹Dip you in honey by @lunarheslwt [M, 7k, Louis/Harry]

Louis bucked his hips, arching off the couch, moans spilling like honey. “I’m so close already, oh god.” Harry’s relentless grinding was just the right pace, and his mind was slowly turning into nothing but a pleasure-filled haze, and nothing could stop him from hurtling over the edge soon- “Oh fuck, my cornbread!” Louis reeled. “Wha”- “My cornbread. I’d left it in to bake, remember? I think it’s starting to burn!” “You can’t be serious, Harold.”

Or, Harry has been baking cornbread for seven days in a row. Louis has no idea what’s going on, but is ever the sweet and supportive husband. At least their baby, Amelia, seems placated by the bread.

Contrary to popular belief, there is however, a thing such as ‘too much bread.’

Based on a reddit story!

🔹Flirting In a Sushi Restaurant by @littleroverlouis [T, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Bright green eyes slowly blink up at the ceiling and his glossy pink lips are frozen in a small smile. Louis’ eyes trail down from his tattooed collarbones, to his toned chest, and land on the leaf dotted with toro scallion rolls under his rosy nipples. He feels like a bit of a creep hovering a set of tongs over someone’s nipple, but was a sucker for a toro roll. A deep voice startles him as he grabs a second roll. “Big fan of those I see.” Louis jerks his hand back, the roll dropping from the tongs and landing on the model's arm with a dull plop. “Shit, fuck,” Louis stutters. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. My name's Harry.”

Or sushi model Harry flirts with hungry Louis.

🔹be the artist to my muse by forthetherapy / @forthetherapyy [E, 9k, Harry/Louis]

“I think I’m in love,” Harry says, flopping back to lay on the bench again. Nick sighs and pats Harry on the head. “There, there. You’ll forget him in a day or so.” or harry has been unsuccessfully pining over louis for a while now, he decides to take drastic measures to get the alluring artist to notice him.

🔹When the Dust Settles by @mercurial-madhouse [E, 5k+, wip, Louis/Harry]

Threatened by the power omegas hold, alphas waged a civil war that resulted in the extinction of male omegas. Three centuries on, Louis and his lads risk their lives smuggling the omegas that remain to safety. When Louis proves the impossible to be possible and presents as a male omega, will the quiet rebellion he's worked so hard to create be maintained, or will his newfound abilities destroy all he's fought for?

🔹i am easy to find by safetyfilm / @larrieblr [M, 4k, Harry/Louis]

“Am I bothering you?”

Louis doesn’t have to look up to know who it is, not by the voice. He takes out the final package from the mailbox, a fond grin on his face as he answers, “Love, you could never bother me.” He stacks the package in the crook of his elbow, and looks up, then his smile falls into confusion. “But - wait, you’re supposed to be at work?”

“I finished a meeting, took an early lunch,” is Harry’s excuse, as he comes up by Louis, but not entirely. As if he’d been afraid to touch him.

Louis isn’t one to be observant, but today, now, Harry’s caught his eye, and something tells him to look closer.

Or, where two people try to follow their dreams but time isn't on their side.

🔹gallery of us by @levelofcharm [E, 55k, Louis/Harry]

In spite of wanting to sound lucid and coherent for his own big jump, Harry wants to be near and touch, wants to listen to whatever the omega’s saying because he loves that voice, and he's always hated talking unless he has to. They're a good pair, the two of them, a perfect balance. Louis’ all sunshine, good vibes and healthy eating, lingering hugs and sticky cheek kisses, and Harry's the complete opposite without explanation, but fuck, it feels good to be around someone like that. To have someone like that in his life at all. Harry wants to protect his affectionate ball of light from the world's ignorance, wants to help add to the glow like starting a snowball, rolling it around until it can’t get off the ground because it’s so heavy from all the effort, patience and commitment.

Harry knew what he was doing in life, everything laid out in black-and-white, each day pleasantly predictable. Cue lively art student, Louis, trying to find his place. An almost insufferably happy person who sometimes forgets to hide the way they feel meets the person who is diligent enough to notice and determined to make a difference.

#28th appreciation #1dficvillage #1dsource #trackinghome #tracksintheam #trackinghappily #1d-library

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dibidibifiction · 1 year

Text

Reasons to Live

Pairing: Kim Jonghyun x Reader

Category: romance

TRIGGER WARNING: depression, self-harm, death, foul language

Word count: 3.5k+

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction made for personal entertainment of readers. The writer does not ever intend to offend her readers nor does she aim to spread false information about anyone as to pay any disrespect to the real-life persons whom the characters are based on. She also does not claim ownership to any of the images that are being used.

masterlist

...

TWO YEARS EARLIER

JONGHYUN

I hear the curtain metal rings slide harshly two opposite ways, shocking me awake.

“Oh, good. You were sleeping with your mouth open.”

“Great. Thanks, Mom,” I say sarcastically, rubbing my eyes.

“It’s already ten past five. I’m going home. Are you going to be okay?” my mom asks. She has taken care of me since day one I’ve been in this hospital. But now, since I’ve improved a lot, I insisted that she doesn’t have to visit every day.

“Yes, ma’am,” I roll my eyes jokingly.

“Aww, Jonghyun, you should find a woman who will take care of you from now on instead of bothering me,” she joins my kidding around.

After she pinches my cheeks and kisses me, she heads out the door. I sit up to reach for my phone on the side table. I got messages from the boys on our group chat.

14:36

Kim Kibum: Hey, Kim Jonghyun! When are you getting discharged? You’re delaying our project. Get your shit together, yeah? Love you

15:18

Jinki: They ran some tests on you a few days ago, right? How did they go?

15:24

Minho: Hope everything’s okay, Hyung. We’re just here waiting for you~

16:20

Taemin: Hyung, did you receive my fruit basket? Hope you like it.

Reading their messages instantly puts a smile on my face. I start typing to reply that everything’s good and that I’m getting out of here soon. Maybe next week at the very least.

I’ve been in this hospital for almost a month because of the car accident on my drive to my parents’ house after work. It was already dark and I was on the expressway when it started to rain so heavily that visibility was close to zero. Unexpectedly, a huge truck was running too fast in my direction. I managed to avoid it but then made me hit an electric post. Even though I was in a coma for three days, still, lucky for me, I had very little damage compared to others who have gotten into accidents like this.

I’ve never felt more alive. It may be hard to believe or even admit, but it might be a miracle, what happened to me. I was in such unbearable pain that I could already imagine my loved ones crying at my funeral.

I grab my little notebook and head up to the rooftop. I sit in my usual spot, which is at the very corner of the floor, overlooking the city. The city lights are like stars, the cars like elves, and the people like ants. It’s like a whole new weird world. I pull up my pen inserted at the last page I wrote on. Every time I have an idea for a song or a poem, I always write it here.

As I’m turning the pages to look back on what I’ve written, I catch a glimpse of someone’s legs way across this wide rooftop. It looks like a person lying on the floor.

“Hello?” I call out.

No response.

“Excuse me, are you okay?” My voice is a little louder, hoping to be heard.

Still nothing. Not even a subtle movement.

I drop everything and walk briskly over to check on them.

I gasp at a young girl in a hospital gown like mine, which means she must be a patient too. I draw closer to see that she’s unconscious. And pale.

My heart twists, I hurriedly kneel down to her side and lightly put my head on her chest to check her heartbeat.

Shit, I hear nothing. A quick shiver sends through me.

Her pulse. I quickly grab her hand to feel her wrist and hope to feel something.

Thank God. I exhale after what feels like twenty minutes. “Stay here. I’ll go get help.”

I run down four flights of stairs and realize how ridiculous that sounded since she couldn’t even hear me. I finally reach the nearest nurse’s station, catching my breath in order to get words out.

“Excuse me! There’s a girl up on the roof. She’s unconscious. Please help!”

A nurse nods once and quickly picks up the telephone. She recites something I didn’t quite understand. Two guys with a stretcher appear immediately and ask me to let lead the way.

. . .

It’s now hours later and I can’t stop thinking about her. My last sight of her keeps flashing before my eyes. She was pale and almost lifeless. She looks pretty with her dark neck-length hair, her thin bangs fly off her forehead because of the wind. I wonder what’s wrong with her. I hope she’s okay now. Turns out she is the one who stays in the room next to mine.

My door slowly opens for a nurse to take the tray of my already finished dinner. “Hey, um, do you know what happened to the girl next door?”

“Do you know her?” he asks me right back, his eyes dead.

“Actually, yeah, I went to college with her.” I lie.

“Oh, okay, then,” he sighs. “Well, she attempted to kill herself again.”

My jaws drop in shock. “What?” I stutter. My heart sinks even more at the word ‘again.’

“It’s the third time she’s done that during her stay here. I really hope she'll stop. I’m worried about her. She doesn’t even have a family for us to call for a situation like this. There’s only this one guy that comes over every now and then.” His eyes suddenly change and fill up with pity when he walks out the door.

---

PRESENT DAY

Y/N

I run to the bus stop to see Jonghyun already waiting for me by his car in hazard mode at the side of the road. Two weeks passed and this is the most I’ve seen him since he’s been busy with his comeback.

He spots me, then waves so happily that he’s almost jumping.

I land in his arms. “Jonghyun, I missed you,” I weep on his chest.

He pulls away to look at my face, cupping my cheeks. “How’s my girl?” his eyes twinkle. He lovingly leans in for a five-second kiss.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” I pout.

“No, I just got here,” he smiles. “Shall we?”

We both hop in his car and drive to Taemin’s house to have dinner with the boys. It was supposed to be a celebration for their comeback promotion weeks ago but it always fell through. Now that their promotion ended, they decided to have the gathering tonight. It was Minho and Kibum’s idea. Taemin offered his place to hold it.

They love a good party. Kibum wanted to invite as many people as they could but Minho wanted an intimate gathering with just close friends. The decision was made democratically but it was tied up. So all that long heated, turbulent discussion led us to the lowkey one with just close friends.

Jonghyun and I arrive with three handsome boys already in sight. Minho greets me with a warm hug and then leads me toward the kitchen where Jinki and Kibum are preparing food.

“Mmm, smells good over here. Where’s Taemin?” I ask no one in particular while I make my way to sit on a spinning stool by the island.

“He’s not here yet,” Kibum answers me while he holds a wooden spoon in front of me to let me taste his soondubu stew.

“What? He’s late even at his own party being held at his house. Great.” I say as I nod approvingly to Kibum, telling him that it’s delicious.

Jinki giggles. “That’s our youngest.”

I laugh, wiping off droplets of soup on my chin.

“Speak of the devil,” Kibum mutters as soon as I hear the front door beep.

I welcome Taemin with a giggle and my arms open for a hug. “Hey, what are you doing late at your own party?” I say, pulling away from his one-hand embrace.

“I came as fast as I could. You’re at my house. Stop complaining!” he laughs too.

. . .

It is now four hours later. Jonghyun and I are back in his car on our way to his apartment. I insisted he takes me home but he insisted harder for me to stay at his place since it’s closer.

“Plus, I missed you and I want to be with you a little longer,” he says, kissing my hand while his eyes are on the road.

“Really? Well...” I say, having something in mind. I start drawing closer to him and slide my palm on his lap up to his crotch. I lean in closer, humming into his ear.

He swallows. “Hey, I’m driving.”

I laugh at him. “Fine, I’ll wait until we get home.”

“Home?” He looks at me for a second, smiling. Then back on the road.

I pause, thinking of what I said. “What?”

“Did you just propose for us to live together?”

“Where’d that come from? You’re making stuff up again.” I playfully punch his arm.

He laughs out loud. It is so beautiful that it is the most musical sound I’ve ever heard.

After a few seconds of silence, he grabs my hand. I turn to him, waiting for him to say something. “So, do you want to move in?”

My mouth opens in quite a confusion but immediately curves into a huge smile. “Yeah, of course! I’d love that,” I screech. I lean into him for a kiss on his cheek, then rest my head on his shoulder while he pulls over into parking.

He turns to me, cupping my cheek. “I love you so much, Y/n.”

It makes me melt every time he says those words to me. My eyes fill in with tears. “I love you, too.”

---

TWO YEARS EARLIER

An overflowing burning sensation boils in my stomach, making me abruptly sit up and throw up on myself. I feel like my internal organs are about to come out of my mouth. I feel so heavy that I can't open my eyes. When I do, it’s brief and cloudy.

I suddenly hear the door open. Somebody walks into my room. A nurse perhaps. After I feel them carefully laid me back down, I catch a blurry figure of a man standing in my direction by the door outside my room. Before I can control my own consciousness, everything goes black again.

. . .

I slowly open my eyes with the sun blaring at me. It irritates the shit out of me. I get out of bed in an attempt to close my blinds but somebody stops me.

“Whoa, wait, be careful.” A guy in a hospital gown like mine suddenly appears before me.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I glare at him.

He looks startled by my sudden rage. Despite this, he adjusts the wire connecting the needle inserted in my arm and the IV that’s hung next to my bed before I could mess it up.

“Let me get that for you,” he mutters before closing the blinds for me, leaving a bit of sunlight.

My face relaxes from frowning as I watch him walk back toward me. He sits on the chair next to my bed. I notice his attractive appearance. Dark hair that covers his entire forehead, a cute smile and a muscular body. I somehow get lost in his stare with those innocent and sparkly eyes, making the anger inside me fade. I feel some kind of warm relief.

“Uh, I’m Jonghyun. Sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I have not heard about you since I found you on the roof a few days ago.”

I snap out, bringing back my scowl. “Why?”

He stutters. “Well-”

“We don’t even know each other.”

“No, but-”

“Do you like me? Is that why you saved me?” I’m getting more pissed with this stranger in my room. “Or are you just trying to be some kind of a hero that saves my life, then our story would turn into a cheesy romantic cliché?

Silence. He just stares at me. Probably awkward and shocked.

“Get out of here before I call security.”

Without saying anything else, he gets up from his seat and walks to the door. Looking flustered, he glances back at me before sliding it close behind him.

. . .

The moon has come out. It’s the only time of day that I appreciate the outside. I stand before the window, looking out, watching the cars and cabs go about down there. Thinking that there are millions of people existing, I question why the fuck I’m alone.

Literally.

Emotionally.

I fall on my butt, and for the first time in almost a year, I cry out loud. Extremely loud. Numbingly loud. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I pull my hair out, punch my head, slap my own face. Dig my nails into my neck, scratch down to my chest, and then my arms. I kick my legs hysterically. Repeatedly.

I hate being alive.

Eventually, my hearing went faint, abandoning its purpose. I feel someone grab me from behind, restraining me tightly.

“Let me go! Just please let me go. Please! I don’t want to be alive anymore.” I continue to scream furiously, trying to escape everything that tries to come at me.

But then, I see that it’s Minho who’s hugging me. I crash into his arms, shut the fuck up, and cry silently.

“Y/n, I’m here. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m here for you. Please, stop now,” he hushes me. I can finally hear his voice. He's the only one I can trust. His embrace is the only comforting thing to me.

I’m breathing heavily, trying to calm down. I watch a nurse approach with a syringe but Minho immediately shoves it away.

We just stayed like this. I have not idea how long but I don’t want it to end.

After some time, the noises in my head settle down. I can see clearly again.

---

PRESENT DAY

JONGHYUN

After my radio show, I come home to a beautiful lady waiting for me on the couch in the dressing gown I got her for Christmas last year, and a pair of thick-framed reading glasses with a book in hand.

I join her, laying my head between her breasts. “Hi, roomie.” I look up at her, then give her a wink. We talked about moving in together weeks ago and the day I’d been waiting for has finally come. She’s finally settled in with me. There couldn’t be any other day happier than this.

She hisses. “Shut up,” then goes back to reading her book, blocking my view of her pretty little face.

I hiss back. I then crawl out off the couch to pick her up bridal style, spinning her around.

Y/n shrieks, laughing. “Jonghyun, stop!”

So I do. “Oh, hey, we haven’t done that thing couples do once they move in.”

“I thought you were going to be too tired from work,” she says, her arms around my neck.

Her thinking about sex is heaven to me! But that’s not what I’m talking about. “No, stupid,” I chuckle at her while I put her down on her feet. “Come here.” I grab her hand for her to follow me out the front door.

“Wait, what? Where are we going? I’m not dressed,” she complains.

I close the door once we get out. Y/n is still confused about what we’re doing. I pick her up again, bridal style. “Now, enter the code.”

She doesn’t say anything else and does as I say.

Once she opens the door, “Welcome home!” I cheer.

She laughs out loud. “Oh, so now we’re officially living together. Amazing!” she says playfully.

But I don’t put her down just yet and head to the bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re doing that other thing that couples do when they move in together.”

“Yay!” she cheers, then kisses me deeply on the spot as I bring the action to our bedroom.

---

TWO YEARS EARLIER

There’s a knock on the door while I watch a movie on the flatscreen. I hit pause on the remote control.

“Hyung!” Minho calls out enthusiastically as he enters my room with bags of food in his hand.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

“What? Can’t a guy visit his guy friend who is unlucky enough to get into an accident?” he jokes around, handing me my lunch.

“Thank you very much,” I bow to him.

Minho and I do some catching up, talking about his new drama series, and some other work stuff until our conversation finds itself about the girl staying next door.

“Then she just kicked me out of her room and threatened to call security on me. This is what she did to a person who saved her life?” I pout.

“Oh, my God. You’re the stalker she’s been talking about?”

“Stalker? Woah, that woman. After what I did for her?” My blood is boiling with intense irritation. But it subsides quickly once I realize something. “Wait, you know her?”

“Yeah, I actually spent the night in her room.”

I pause, staring at Minho in confusion. “You’re not… Nothing’s going on with you two, is there?

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I’ve known her since childhood. Our parents used to be close. That was when her mother was still alive and her dad hadn’t moved to Japan.”

“Wow, she has it tough, huh?” Just like that, irritation turns compassion.

“Yeah, but there’s more to that. Something that no one can explain, not even her herself.”

She’s been suicidal. Her depression has taken a lot from her. Hearing this makes me want to look after her more.

---

PRESENT DAY

Y/N

Since then, Jonghyun had been visiting me every evening to have dinner together even when I kept pushing him away, asking him to stop trying to save me.

Days after he got discharged, he came back, but I wasn’t in my room anymore. When he found out that I was transferred to the psychiatric ward, he came running to my door.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were being transferred?”

“Why would I?” I frowned.

“Right,” he laughed awkwardly.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Hey, what are you-”

He trailed off, his face turning red as he listened. It’s definitely Minho.

I suddenly snatched the phone from Jonghyun’s hand and walk near the door out of earshot. “Hey, where the hell are you?” I scolded Minho in a whisper. “You are not letting him-”

“It’s okay, Y/n. He means well. Maybe it’s time for you to let somebody else in for a change,” he laughed statically. “Love you.”

I sighed in irritation as I heard the dial tone. “Here.” I hand Jonghyun’s phone back to him while he just smiled at me goofily.

If it wasn’t for Minho, I never would’ve trusted anyone again. And because of Jonghyun, trusting and loving again was worth it.

By the time I got discharged from the ward, Jonghyun and I eventually started dating officially. He was always there for me. Offered to come with me to my therapist twice a week but I insisted that I could go by myself. I would meet the rest of the boys not long after we got together. Since then, I’ve got the best friends ever.

Sooner or later, I would get back to work in teaching kindergarten. I can’t imagine my career going any other way. I thank myself for being alive today. Some days, I’d join Jonghyun and the boys in organizing a charity mission. I’d teach kids in far provinces. I forgot how fulfilling working with children was when I was too busy being miserable.

I’ve never felt so alive. Not to mention grateful.

“I’m so proud of you, honey,” my dad tells me with a big smile on his face.

“Thanks, Dad,” I smile back at my computer screen. “By the way, when are you coming? You should tell me ahead of time so I can prepare you something.”

Before I can hear his response, the front door of my apartment beeped. “Oh, I have to go. Jonghyun’s here.”

“I should really meet this Jonghyun. You’re talking about him a lot,” he says.

I shake my head and laugh at him before hanging up.

“Was that your dad?” Jonghyun asks as soon as he approaches and kisses me on the lips.

“Yeah.”

“Is he coming to visit?”

“He didn’t say,” I tell him, shutting down my laptop.

I stare at Jonghyun while he removes his shoes and walks towards me.

“What?” he asks, then kisses me on the forehead.

Trying not to tear up, I just shake my head and giggle at him. If it wasn’t for Jonghyun, my life would be so much different right now. Hell, I’d be dead. Because of him, I regained my bond with my dad.

Months ago, they had to go to Japan for work and he made me come with them so my father and I could finally talk. We had never seen eye to eye ever since Mom died. We had drifted apart. Now, we are closer than ever.

I’m not saying my depression is gone and my attacks are non-existent anymore. They still come every now and then, although not as bad as before. Jonghyun has always been so caring and understanding. I could cry just thinking about it. I got to be with the best person and have the best friends in the world.

#hi! it's been quite a while since i last posted a story on here #the last post i made was in June 2021 #anyway i'm always grateful for everyone who reads my work and likes them #i'm not promising anything but i'll try to post more stories for you #i hope you enjoy this Jonghyun x reader fiction #in this piece i expressed how much Jonghyun and the rest of SHINee means to me despite having to go through difficult times #happy reading!#shinee jonghyun #kim jonghyun #SHINee fanfiction #shinee fanfic #shinee x reader #jonghyun x reader

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warrioreowynofrohan · 9 months

Note

11, 13, 53 and 72 for the fic writer asks!

Yay! Thank you for asking! <3

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

1) all my war is done by arriviste

I still adore this one. Post-canon Fingon, dealing (or conspicuously not dealing) with the loss of Maedhros, his own guilt, and the return of his adult son (it’s complicated) Gil-galad, whom four thousand years of rule in Midfle-earth have left with a lot of opinions on how things should be managed.

It’s funny in parts, heartbreaking in others, and absolutely gorgeous.

The Sea of Ekkaia was beautiful, in its own way, but that way that was like no other place in Arda, in either Aman or Middle Earth.

It was a dark-blue that was almost black, even in the late afternoon, and the shore was less sand than gravel, a strange inconsistent rubble of rock and broken sea-shells that had been dashed to pieces by the constant fury of the waves. Staring out to sea, one did not see the far-away horizon the way one did on the gentler coast of Belegaer: there was no gentle faraway blue haze through which one might, perhaps, on a clear day, imagine that Middle Earth could be glimpsed, or at least the Straight Path.

No: instead along the horizon there was a seam of silver light, and then a great blackness, where the Sea of Ekkaia met the Uttermost West that was not quite the Doors of Night, but was certainly the end of Aman itself. If you stood on the shore watching, the seam would ripple with a pulse of light, sometimes green and sometimes white.

It was so far from anywhere the Eldar of Valinor lived. While they clustered around the Belegaer like moths to flame, this shore seemed instead to repel them. Was it the sight of the world’s end itself? It might be; yet Fingon thought there was more to why this wilderness was so little visited, this howling black sea lashing itself against a grey shore. It was beautiful, but not in the way Elves liked things to be beautiful: it was too raw, too unfinished, too savage.

It was too close to where Mandos kept his Halls, which were not only a thing of spirit but also matter, at least in the way that things in Aman were both. Too close to where Nienna’s tower looked out into the Void and where she wept, and wept, and wept. It was too close to death and to rebirth, to judgment and to pity.

Devastated by the discovery that the poem that gives the fic its name also contains the line I love another, and thus I hate myself. Because yes, that’s basically the fic.

Some miles further, Fingon said, “Did you ever meet him in Beleriand? After I died. I always wondered.”

“No,” Gil-galad said.

It didn’t seem like he was going to speak again, and Fingon had begun to assimilate that knowledge, that pain – that Maedhros had never seen him, had only ever known him through Fingon’s own eyes – when he added,

“But I saw what he did. Have you ever seen a whole city ruined, and known the ruiners to be Elves? It wasn’t even a city, poor Sirion! It was a refuge, a place for the desperate, as far to the West as they could get, as close to the safety of the Sea. They had so very little. No great stone palaces, no towers, no spires. Little enough fresh food. They were able to grow so little, and they lived on fish, and sea-weed, and what parties of brave hunting parties would bring back; and hope. They lived on hope, and they thought Elwing wore it around her throat, but the Valar didn’t come for them: Maedhros Fëanorion and his brothers did instead, and they burned and killed and ravaged. I’d say they salted the earth, but it was salt already. To fall on any innocent Elven city would be a horror: on poor Sirion it was the greatest cruelty I ever saw, and entirely pointless."

They said nothing more.

If you like it, you’ll almost certainly like the sequel, above the wind.

2) and what happened after by @thearrogantemu

One of the very first Tolkien fanfics I read, and still one of the best, particularly the conversations between Fëanor and Frodo in the second chapter, and Sam and Maglor in the third.

He looked closely at his hands, which were strong and graceful, well-shaped and unscarred. He ran his thumb up the side of his fingers and across the arch of the palm. “This, now, this is not quite right. No, they are too clean, far too clean. They say that the body draws its shape from the spirit but perhaps they overstated the case.”

“What do you mean?”

A shadow passed over his face, and all at once Frodo saw the immense age in his ageless features, as if each year of the circling centuries had landed like a blow. Heat rose against his mind again, searing and heedless and terrible. He tasted acrid choking ash in his throat, heard the wailing of distant voices, and all around him was salt and smoke and the flat metallic tang of blood.

Far to the east in Alqualondë by the sea, the sea-folk faltered at their nets as the shadow of ancient grief crossed their hearts, and in white-walled Tirion, the scepter fell as the High King of the Noldor suddenly stiffened in his seat, and then leaped up and ran to a window. He gazed westward, scanning the horizon beyond the Calacirya for he knew not what, pierced by a nameless hope.

But Frodo reached out in return and clasped both of Fëanor’s hands, and they did not burn, but were only flesh and blood, as his own. The heat faded, and Fëanor held out his hand before him; it was still empty and unmarked.

“No, too clean altogether,” he said lightly. “A hand shows what its work has been: calluses, inkstains, scrapes and nicks, little silver scars.”

If you like it, you will also like the sequel, The Very Wine of Blessedness, and probably others in the same series (‘The Splintered Light’) as well. When All Other Light Go Out (Findis) and Beyond the Western Sea (Finrod and Curufin) are two other of my favourites.

3) I love many of @clothonono’s fics, so the only way I know to answer this is to name the one I most frequently want to reread now. Which is….uh. Rochdeilin. I usually go for genfic so I’m little embarrassed.

It’s d/s russingon vulnerability kink. And it’s wonderful. I’m a fan of Maedhros being a sub, and I rarely see it done well.

If you want funny Russingon instead/as well, Fourteen Hours is hilarious and brilliant. On a different but also humorous note, Better A Holy Discord is basically the Valar MST3King the events of The Silmarillion, and along with the humour has so much insight that it’s basically my mission statement on the meaning of the book and who the Valar are.

13. what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

I don’t deliberately follow a lot, but one - from CS Lewis, though I expect he’s not the only one to have said it - is that you know if something’s working by whether it sounds good when read aloud. I don’t often read my fic aloud deliberately, but I can tell when something seems to have the right beats and cadence, and it’s good for telling when a passage can stand or if it needs work.

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

I don’t do a lot of either - I’m pretty picky, about both my own work and others’ - but I definutely read much more than I write. I’ve only got a small number of fics, most of them short, and I don’t write on anything like a consistent basis. Part of that is due to the answer to the previous question - writing prose that doesn’t sound right is like nails on a chalkboard to me. I have never been able to discipline myself to “just get something down on paper” unless at least some of the words are already taking shape in my head.

72. What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

I start with my favourite scenes / the ones are clearest in my head, and an outline of everything else. The outline varies in detail; so e parts will be very detailed, others will just be [x needs to happen here]. Then fill in the bits of the outline in pieces based on what I have the most idea about. But I’m very much a plotter - I can’t write something unless I have sone idea of the main things happening, how they hold together, and the central point/themes.

This was very fun, thanks again!

#fanfic #fic recs #tolkien #the silmarillion #the lord of the rings #frodo #sam #feanor #fingon #maedhros #valar #gil galad #ask game

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spiced-wine-fic · 1 year

Text

Writer Asks

Thank you so much @swanfloatieknight

WRITER ASKS!

When did you start writing? How?

Has your writing changed over time?

Do you read your own fics?

Do you write every day? If so, do you have daily goals?

Do you plan? Or do you “wing it”?

If you plan, what does your planning process look like?

How would you describe your writing style?

Have any comments/tags/responses on a fic of yours ever made you laugh, cry or both?

Have you ever made yourself laugh with something you’ve written?

How many unfinished works are in your drafts?

Do you write for yourself, or for the readers?

Do you feel pressured to write some days?

Multichapter fics or one shots?

Do you take requests?

Angst or fluff?

What is your favorite character (or characters) to write for?

What piece of writing are you most proud of?

Which is more difficult, the title or the summary?

Do you have a beta reader?

Do you prefer to edit as you go, or once the piece is finished?

Do you listen to music as you write?

If you had to assign a theme song to [fic title], what would it be?

Have you ever stopped yourself from writing something? Why?

Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

What projects are you currently working on?

Is there a specific scene or scenario you’re looking forward to most? (No, you don’t have to give away spoilers!)

Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

Share a piece from one of your current WIPs!

Best writing advice for other writers?

Make up your own question! Ask me anything!

1, When did you start writing? How?

I was very, very young, five or six? I used to draw and write about places we were going to go on holiday before we went and little poems about nature and the seasons etc. I can’t imagine not writing.

3, Do you read your own fics?

Only to check something.(it’s a series so everything proceeds from something else and sometimes you have to hunt down references).

11, Do you write for yourself, or for the readers?

For myself mainly, I think because from about age 11 I hid all my writing and by then I was writing ‘stories’. It was like walking through a door into a magical world and closing it behind me. I didn’t want people reading it; it was a quiet, safe place. That continued until I posted Dark Prince on LOTRFF.com in 2007.

Of course, people actually engaging with your fic does change your attitude a bit over time, I think. I never believed anyone would read it so I’m thrilled when people like something I’ve written but it doesn’t influence why I write or who I write for (me). I just have stories in my head I want to tell.

21, Do you listen to music as you write?

No, I prefer quiet or ambient nature sounds.

Thank you @anerea-lantiria 🤗

5, Do you plan? Or do you “wing it”?

I always liken it to looking down a street at night and seeing the streetlights stretching away. The illuminated places are those parts of the story I know, but there are shadowy or dark areas between that I have to write ‘through’ to get to them.

6, If you plan, what does your planning process look like?

I don’t plan.

17, What piece of writing are you most proud of?

I’m always not proud but pleased at just having completed a fic. Over my adult life I have no idea how many millions of words I wrote and threw away (most of it was longhand, file after file of it; I still have a few bits from a million years ago 😂)

I would write almost novel length stories then get bored and start something else. I did finish two, I think (long lost) but only when writing fanfic have I consistently finished anything. (I do have a couple of fics on hiatus though).

20, Do you prefer to edit as you go, or once the piece is finished?

I tend to do both. I’ll look at a few paragraphs and edit, then go through the whole thing when it’s finished.

#fic asks and answers

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recurring-polynya · 11 months

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Hey! I hope this is alright to ask, but do you have a specific poet whose works you associate with RenRuki?

Boy, did you send this ask to the wrong person.

I am not a poetry person.

I mean, nothing against poetry, I am very happy for the poetry-enjoyers, there's a lot of good poetry in this world, but I can read at most 3 or 4 lines of poetry before my brain just shuts off. I have a good friend who is very into poetry and reads a lot of it, and I have tried, it's just not interesting to me. I know it cannot possibly be related to my auditory processing disorder, but it's roughly the same experience as listening to an audiobook or podcase-- of being aware that information is being directed at me, but being completely unable to ingest it without deliberately focusing on it in a way that is both taxing and deeply unpleasant.

Furthermore, the handful of poems that do stick with me to any degree are...not...topical. I sat down and tried to think about Poems That I Can Name, and came up with the following list:

Two Corbies (a medieval Scottish poem about crows eating a knight's corpse)

Dulce et Decorum Est, by Wilfred Owen, a WWI poem I read in high school about watching someone die by inhaling chlorine gas

Ozymandias, by Mary Shelley's husband. In my head, I thought this was a very long poem, like on the order of Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and it's 14 lines long.

Pachycephalosaurus, by Richard Armour, which I know by heart and will recite at the least provocation, much to the chagrin of my spouse and children.

That William Carlos Williams poem about plums, but only because it's a Twitter meme.

I mean, I will read a poem if someone posts one to Twitter or Tumblr, usually by either Mary Oliver or Richard Siken, and I will often say "yes, that was a nice poem," but and if pressed, I could probably name as many as ten poets, but please don't ask me to "associate their work" with anything.

The closest thing I have to a poem that I associate with Rukia, is actually from an Oh Hellos song that feels like a poem to me, which is:

But Death, she is cunning and clever as hell And she'll eat you alive

I do like many of the Bleach volume poems, but one of their major selling points is that they are short.

I am sure someone is reading this post who has read my fanfiction and saying, Polynya, if you hate poetry, why does it come up in your stories so much? Are you a fraud???

a) of all, yes, of course, always. I don't know jack about doing make-up or hand-to-hand combat, and I write about those things at great length, also.

b) A major theme I like to explore in my writing is the various ways people communicate with one another and how some are more effective than others and that some communicate things that were not, in fact, intended to be communicated.

At some level, I think Renji wishes he were the sort of guy who could express his feelings for Rukia through a romantic poem, but he also feels, deeply, that he is not, and that he is so far from being such a person that it's embarrassing for him to even try. (I love to imply, from time to time, that Renji considers Izuru to be peak boyfriend material and that he's a big nothingburger in comparison, this is very charming to me). Once every hundred thousand words or so that I write, I will give him (1) charming poetic thought, isolated from any actual poetry, which serves to help him process his own emotions and are not for anyone else.

On the other hand, I don't think Rukia wants poems written for or about her! I think that (like me), the idea of someone writing a love poem for her would make her want to claw her own skin off. Poetry is so deliberate. It is wrapping a message in an extra layer of intention, like gift wrap. To many people, this is very romantic, for example, I love the idea that Byakuya and Hisana exchanged poetry, both that they wrote themselves and or that they found in books that they curated for one another. I think Rukia prefers to be regarded at some subconscious level. Poetry is too direct, too raw. A proper love poem to Rukia is in the ringing of swords when fighting back-to-back, it's in a stride shortened to keep pace, it's in an a cabinet full of spicy pickles that the owner can't eat himself.

#i realize that the poetry i like is all about death to some degree or another #which. like. you could definitely make the case that it is bleach-related if not renruki directly #but i do not think that was the point #peace and love on planet earth to all the poetry girlies it's just the one thing that turns my brain into a walnut

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frangipanilove · 7 months

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More About Birds...

When @emsee22 posted this about the potential connection between the Blue Heron and the Bennu Bird yesterday, it got my brain gears turning. For starters, I completely agree that the Blue Heron symbolism could be related to the mythology surrounding the Bennu Bird, and I felt pretty sure I had written about in a post at some time. I went thought my archive and struggled to find it, and eventually I realized that I had relayed the info to @twdmusicboxmystery who had made this post about it.

@emsee22 I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to piggyback off your post and offer my two cents about the Bennu Bird and how it relates to the Blue Heron Symbolism as it comes across in the show.

I think it was back in 2016 that I started researching the Sirius symbolism, in large parts because of the references to Robert Frost's poem One More Brevity in 4x13 Alone. The poem mentions Sirius, and from there on I fell down the rabbit hole that is ancient Egyptian mythology. I was already aware of possible ties between the Blue Heron painting from 4x12 Still and Egyptian mythology, in that it was speculated a heron could have been the original inspiration of the Phoenix myth.

I wrote about how Sirius and the Egyptian deity Osiris were connected in a series of absolutely terrible posts back in 2016, they're cringe beyond belief and I would't recommend anyone to go seeking them out. But my point is, the ties to Egyptian mythology in the show are real, and they've been present for a very long time.

I recently wrote about how I researched blue bird/blue heron symbolism after Noah's T-Shirt Theory, and among other things I discovered that a manufacturer of yellow school buses was named Blue Bird.

We've seen many of these yellow school buses through the years, but it wasn't really until episode 1x5 of Dead City, Stories We Tell Ourselves, that we saw it in a way that confirmed it was a symbol tptb wanted us to read into (here). And that only happened literally just a few months ago, years and years after the Blue Heron painting from Still.

Likewise, while researching Blue Bird symbolism after writing Noah's T-Shirt Theory, I came across a blue bird named Crowned Victoria Pigeon, and I realized it would fit perfectly into the Blue Bird symbolism, because it's also a perfect reference to Rick's police car, a Ford Crown Victoria Interceptor.

(I elaborate on the significance of car brand names in the Trunk Resurrection posts)

It was the perfect symbol, and yet it took years before tptb decided to use it. But eventually they did use it, in an episode of the spin off Tales of TWD, Amy/Dr. Everret. Amy sees a Crowned Victorian Pigeon, then remarks on how it used to be near-extinct, and now it has seemingly "come back" from extinction. Very "on the nose" resurrection symbolism if you ask me.

Which brings me back to the Bennu Bird. We haven't seen it in TWDU yet, at least not that I'm aware of. But like the Blue Bird bus company and the Crowned Victoria Pigeon, I'm confident that we'll get a reference to it at some point, because it's simply too perfect. And probably sooner rather that later, because tptb have been generous with their bird symbolism lately...

I suspect we'll see it as an artwork in the background, or perhaps as a detail in a random conversation (in TWD they often used Eugene to deliver seemingly random fun facts about things otherwise unrelated to anything going on in the scene. He would have been perfect for this type of thing, I can totally see him deliver a monologue on Egyptian mythology).

My point is, if tptb used the Blue Bird school bus reference and the Crowned Victoria Pigeon reference this far into the franchise, years after the first sighting of a Blue Heron painting, my gut feeling is that a Bennu Bird reference is right around the corner. So thanks @emsee22 for bringing it up!

#bethyl #daryl dixon #beth greene #team delusional #team defiance #beth x daryl #the walking dead #twd #twddd

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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 2 years

Note

love reading your meta on each character! but I feel like my girl layla doesn't get enough love within the fandom... so I wanna ask you a couple questions about her... 1. what do you think was the significance of steven and her having the same favorite poet ? and question 2. why do think she was in the psych hospital along with all those other people when we were in Marc's head in ep 5?

Layla deserves more love! Oh man she needs more love.

Great questions!

I think Marc had something to do with that. You can see Marc unintentionally and intentionally having an influence on Steven's life. Marc sets Steven up (we assume Marc is the one providing for Steven at this point with all his extra blood money) two blocks from his and Layla's old apartment, after all. It's very possible that Marc did this BEFORE he tried to disappear. Steven complains of waking up all the time in strange places.

It's possible Marc set him up his own space and would possibly sometimes pretend to go on a mission and just give Steven a couple of days to do his thing in his own space. It's very possible that at some point Steven fronted while in Marc's apartment and saw the book.

Or perhaps he was semi-conscious while Layla was reading a poem. Or because Marc loved Layla so much and missed her, maybe he bought the book and hid it in Steven's massive book collection and Steven found it. Even more compelling is perhaps any time Marc saw something that reminded him of Layla he couldn't stop his feelings of love and missing her from surfacing even when Steven was in charge.

Perhaps this feeling manifested when at the book shop and he saw the book and Steven felt it and bought the book himself. Maybe while reading it, he felt Marc's nostalgia for Layla and he decided the poems spoke to him and it became his favorite. I think this shows Marc's lingering love for Layla.

OR we could just be boring and say that Steven found it all on his own and decided he liked the poet on his own and it's just one more thing they have in common. Honestly I like the Marc's love is that strong theory better.

In the Duat itself, we see Marc. It's all Marc (and possibly Jake behind all the locked doors). We see the dead people, the bad memories, the trauma. Steven has nothing to hide. Steven's life is open. No part of Steven is locked away down below deck like Marc's. But Steven's life is still out on display and being poked at.

The whole Dr. Harrow thing is still up in the air for me. What he represented and his significance. If he was a trap planted there by the Real Harrow when he tried to test Steven's scales. Perhaps when Harrow tested his scales, he explored their memories and left his own mark on the situation.

In the hospital room scene, everything there is related to Steven. It's all a call back. The cupcakes, the post cards, the hippo plush, the fish, and the people in Steven's life. Donna, Crawley, and Layla. (I'm going to have to re-watch closely to see if the other background characters are people he saw in the village or other places. I have a sneaking suspicion that the hospital ward lackeys are Harrow's lackeys from the village and tomb). But it's all a call back to Steven before Marc took over but when Marc was starting to interfere in Steven's normal life.

This is all Steven's life as seen through Marc's eyes! Everything is made to remind Marc of Steven! The movie where the idea of Steven originally came from. The pathetic version of Donna clutching at her museum gift shop plush. What's interesting is Crawley leading a game of Bingo. We never see Steven interact with Crawley outside of his statue act, yet he's calling out bingo pieces. I suspect Marc may have spoken with Crawley once or twice, but that's a different thing all on it's own.

The people here are all shades of what we see in Steven's life. They are placid. They are unassuming and not aware of their situation or just accepting. Everything here is twisted. It's not quite right.

When he first met Layla, she did startle Steven. She called him Marc and it scared him. He fell down while running away from a nightmarish Khonshu and she pulled up on her Bike to look down and as if he was Marc. Marc was upset that Steven had let her in.

Layla turns off the movie that reminded Marc of Steven. She calls it a bit much. She hangs up the post cards. She has the scarab from her father's sash on her band-aid. She is eating sweets that Marc must have known she loved. She finds his Bingo card and says "You won. I'll share it with you this time, promise. We won. I won!"

Everything here is supposed to make the viewer and Marc question if this was all in his head the whole time. All the call backs. Everything about Steven. Could it have been Marc making up something to cope with his trauma?

Layla's character is askew. Just enough to try to explain why he might imagine that he was in love with her and had made her into a big part of his life. But it implies with her taking away his victory that she isn't supposed to be helping him. That she's using him and he's letting her. This whole scene is alienating and supposed to drive Marc away from anything he might have found comforting.

He's even holding the moon knight action figure. A superhero representation of what he might have liked to imagine was real.

But this is all in Marc's head. Maybe this is how he wants to see it. Maybe how he once was TOLD to see it by someone else a long time ago. Maybe his father. Maybe if he was sent to a psychiatric facility as a child.

At no point does Dr. Harrow actually talk about Marc's biggest problems. He doesn't talk about his trauma. His abuse. He doesn't comfort Marc to get over it. He blames Marc for his mental health. He rips Steven's mother delusion away from him. He is trying to drive Steven away from Marc. To make Marc question everything. To make him fail. It isn't until Marc and Steven understand one another that they can see the illusion for what it is. They take apart the 'Dr. Harrow' persona and can escape.

THIS IS A LONG WAY OF ANSWERING YOUR QUESTION AND I'M SORRY. I hope I helped?

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight meta #I could talk about this all day #Ask away #Marc Spector #layla el faouly #Steven Grant #Jake Lockley

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tobelovedbyjohnbridgens · 2 years

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A Bower Quiet for Us

I'm impulsively posting this little thing I wrote a while ago and completely forgot about until recently. It's very sappy and is important to me. Title from Endymion, by John Keats.

“Henry,” he called because he could. Because he knew Henry would hear and turn to him and cross the room to close the distance between them. He knew Henry would hear, and turn, and smile, and take great strides in their small apartment to come to him, and he would set his hands on John’s shoulders and would lean down to kiss him.

Henry raised his eyes from the book he was reading, the sun pouring through the window and shifting the wisps of his flyaway hair to gold. Henry set his book down did exactly as John knew he would.

“‘Ello,” Henry said against John’s lips.

“I love you,” John replied, his hands at Henry’s waist.

“You’re sappy today.” Another kiss. “I love you too.”

“What were you reading?”

“Some Keats.”

John hummed.

“I bet,” Henry continued, elegantly sliding on John’s lap, “you know his poems by heart.”

His cheeks flushed. “That might be the case.”

“John—” Henry called, and John knew Henry was doing the same as he had done. That he would do whatever Henry asked for after saying his name. They both knew this. “Tell me.”

“Give me a title.” He kissed Henry’s neck.

“That’s no fun!”

“He wrote a lot of poems, love.”

“Fine—the first that comes to your head.”

In his mind, John saw the little bound book, which he had first encountered during some years of service, in his ship’s lending library. Most of his pay had been spent to acquire that very copy. John closed his eyes and could feel its red cloth cover on his fingers, could see himself go through the pages of poetry. Henry did ask him to recite the first that came to his mind.

“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:” he swiped his thumb on Henry’s cheekbone, “Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing…”

Endymion was possibly the worst he could have chosen—there was nothing wrong with it, of course, it was just on account of its length. But he would recite until he could no longer, and Henry would get up and find the book, and they would read the rest to each other. And John could not have been any happier.

#john bridgens #henry pelgar #bridglar #bridgens x peglar #the terror #my writing #foregoing my usual titling method for my canon john/henry fics because i don't know when in the timeline this could be #it works both as early relationship (post-declaration of feelings) or just before they leave in 1845. it's timeless #i love that about it #keats my beloved #any literary work: mentions sleep #me: oh my god just like henry peglar and john bridgens in amc's the terror season one #anyway <3 please enjoy

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1yuuki3 · 8 months

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Everything happens for a reason

Genre: Strangers to lovers, Fluff, Angst, YoongixReader

TW: Angst? Mention of the word fuck?

A/N: This chapter contains both Y/N and Yoongi's POV and I incorporated a few poems as well.. As always all works are a work of fiction and was made through the delirium induced brain of mine. Thank you for reading :) Also cross-posted in wattpad,

Wc: 1863 words

Synopsis: You were never one to believe in fate, You're life was made up of plans and bullet points , Organized to the very end. Until fate played a cruel joke and left your life in shambles. Nursing a broken heart in Spain, will this make you change your view on love and fate?.

It feels good to be back, you thought. Back where? Back to the place where your heart was broken? Or back to the place that you're familiar.

You moved back to your family home to the joy of your father. Being the only child it both brings both joy and pain seeing you home.

How was the trip to Spain? Your father asked breaking your reverie.

"It was fun" You said and how's the business trip?

You try to divert the conversation knowing where this would lead to.

"Y/N" your father gently said. "I saw James the other day and he wants to talk to you".

"Talk? what the hell for dad? To explain why he fucked his best friend while planning to marry me? Pain still visible in your voice. You know it won't be an overnight healing, It will take time and time is something you wish could go faster to ease this pain.

You escaped to your room, knowing that talking to your dad in your current state would be pointless.

You know your dad loves you, but he has some archaic ideas that should be left in a coffin somewhere in a dark forest in Transylvania.

Trying to calm down your emotions, you glanced down on a picture of you and Yoongi from that magical night in Spain.

Feeling a surge of inspiration, you sat down and write. Drowning the pain in words.

You promised me forever, but I guess I wasn't enough,

I saw you dancing with someone else.

And in that moment, I saw the smile that used to be mine.

I left with a broken heart, confused and angry.

Questions clouded my mind, was I never enough?

Why must you break my like that.

Eyes blurry with tears, I stumbled in my misery.

Broken hearts amidst broken bottles.

Will I ever be happy again?

And in my pain, I saw the stars for the first time.

A magical moment in a sea of uncertainty.

Someone asked me if I believe in fate, and I didn't know what to say.

Maybe, when the pain is gone, I can answer that question.

If our paths crossed again, maybe just maybe I'll believe in fate like you.

You were so focused in what you were writing that you didn't hear your best friend enter your room, until your nose was assaulted by the smell of your favorite coffee.

"Caramel Macchiatto for my favorite girl" Aya sing-songed.

You can't help but smile with her antics. In all the uncertainties that recently happened in your life, Your best friend remains the only constant.

You and Aya have been friends since you were in diapers. Your parents and hers being college buddies and business partners and it was natural for you guys to be friends.

"Earth to Y/N, hello?" Aya said successfully bringing you back from your reveries.

"You were saying something?" You asked her.

Aya dramatically rolled her eyes, making you laugh. Laughter you thought, this feels nice.

"As I was saying, Did you fuck the first cute boy you saw in Spain?"

You choked on your coffee with her question, making her laugh that cute little oinky laugh of her.

"First of all,Thank you for the coffee and second I did not" You replied.

"biiiisssshhh, you did meet a cute guy, spill the deets or I swear I'll die" She replied.

You told her everything that happened while you were in Spain. But you left out Yoongi's name and the picture hidden in your notebook.

"You did what?and you didn't even ask for his phone number? Disappointment is visible in her voice.

"Nope, I didn't want to ruin the moment and besides what's the point? You answered as truthfully as possible.

But the truth was you were scared. Scared that the connection between you was real, Scared that it wasn't just because of one drunken night in Spain.

Being with Yoongi that night, was like threading in unknown waters, scary yet exciting. But you weren't ready yet. So you hold on to his belief that fate really existed.

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

Yoongi's POV:

Time flies when you're doing what you love. But time can't erase the memories that's etched in your brain. The bucket hat being a constant reminder for Yoongi. And the picture of you that he has in his studio.

He knew that there was a something between the two of you. But he knows it wasn't the right time yet.

Those who don't know him will think of him as someone cold and calculating, But for those who knows the real him knows how he believes that everything happens for a reason and that reason is fate or kismet.

Engrossed in his reveries of that night, the lyrics flow like broken memories long gone.

Fate was something I truly believed in,

As our paths crossed that summer night.

Like puzzles pieces that suddenly fit,

Faded memories trying to surface.

Pain was clearly etched in your eyes,

But yet you smile like everything was ok.

I wanted to wrap you in my arms,

And mend all the little pieces back.

But I was a coward, I was scared that I wouldn't be enough.

How can you be enough, for someone as unattainable as the star.

So I just let you go, I let my fears get the best of me.

Here I am, hoping and praying that fate would allow our paths to cross again.

Lost in thoughts and staring at your picture was how Jin saw Yoongi when he entered the studio.

"Yoongi-ah" he said as he lightly tapped the young man's shoulder.

"Hyung, I didn't hear you come in" Yoongi replied.

"You were so lost in your thoughts that's why" Jin answered as he noticed Yoongi placing the picture back in it's place.

"It's been 3 months since you met her and you haven't even tried to reach out?" The eldest gently asked.

Yoongi sighed deeply before answering

"I tried, I looked up her social media accounts, but every time I try to write something, I get scared"

"She really has that effect on you?The genius Min finally lost for words" Jin Jokingly said.

"I guess she does hyung" Yoongi answered.

"Well, I just came here to remind you, That we'll have a meeting later with Bang Pd and this new producer that we'd be working with" Jin said with a smile.

Producer?I haven't heard we were in negotiations with a new company producer" Yoongi replied curiously.

"Yeah,me too, from what I heard, this producer has been scouted by the other companies and they were all declined, All I know is this producer is talented"

Jin answered, before leaving Yoongi to his own thoughts.

Yoongi usually hates attending company meetings, because they were boring and he'd rather be in his study creating music or sleeping.

But this new producer piqued his interest, and maybe at the back of his mind he's hoping that it's you and that fate finally listened to his plea.

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

"Y/N tell me again,why you chose this company? When other big companies offered you so much?" Your best friend asked you while on facetime.

She's currently away in Paris for a modelling gig. Something she worked hard for and finally seeing the fruits of her hard work.

You also ask yourself that question, but you can't come up with a concrete answer, It's as if your gut is telling you that this is the right decision.

You were never one to listen to instincts and base everything on logic. And look where that got you. Trying to stop yourself from going down that road.

You simply said to Aya " They gave me creative freedom, and for once a company saw me not as the daughter of the CEO of Luna Corporations"

All your life you were expected by everyone to follow the footsteps of your parents as the only heir to the company.

But your parents instilled in you that it's ok not to follow everyone's expectations but pave your own way with the things that makes you happy.

You still study how the company runs but you were given freedom to pursue your own path. That's why you double majored in Business and Music production in College. It was hard but was worth it, because here you are doing what you love.

"Did he try to contact you again?" Aya asked

"Nope, after that incident in the cafe, he won't try" You answered.

Three days ago, while you were out for a well deserved coffee run in your favorite cafe after a very intense negotiation with BH Entertainment.

The universe decided to play a joke on you and stumbled upon your cheating ex. You weren't expecting him there, But I guess the universe was bored and wanted some drama.

All you wanted was to enjoy a good cup of coffee, was that even a hard request?.

"Y/N can we talk?I know you've blocked my number,please?" James your ex asked

"What do we need to talk about?" You calmly asked but anger is boiling inside of you.

"I know I fucked up" He started "I know what I did was wrong and I've hurt you, and if it will take me forever to earn your forgiveness, I'll wait" giving you his best puppy-eye impression.

His antics would have worked on the old Y/N, the one who was head over heels in love, but not anymore that Y/N is dead. She died the night she saw you in bed with someone else.

I just stared at him, not giving him any answer. And at the corner of my eye, I saw the waiter coming with my drink.

I silently sent an apologetic look to the poor waiter for what I was about to do. And in a well timed move, I stretched my leg causing the waiter to trip and and the hot coffee spilled all over my ex.

Not a single sound was heard in the cafe as the scene unfolded like a movie.

As the helpless waiter was mouthing apologies to your ex. You just smiled amused with the scene in front of you.

"Forgiveness is something you'll never get from me. Not now, not ever" You calmly replied as you walk away from the cafe.

Walking away from the pain, Walking away from the past. Towards a future full of uncertainty. Towards a new chapter of my life.

I didn't notice I was holding your breath until I was a few blocks away from the cafe. As fresh tears fall from my eyes.

For the first time since it happened I fully allowed myself to grieve. As i've walked aimlessly trying to clear my head. I saw a park bench and decided to write.

saw you again today, A first in what seems like forever.

I thought I was still in love with you, but all I really felt was pain.

Was I really blind for loving you too much?

Or were we really doomed from the start?

Seeing you again was cathartic.

It made me realize I can live without you.

That life would go on without you.

This is my finally goodbye.

This is the last time,I'll write about you, About us.

As I finally walk away from you and the pain.

I'll wave at you with my middle finger held high.

#bts fanfic #bts jhope #bts fic #bts army #bts jungkook #bangtan #bts jimin #namjoon #bts namjoon #bts jin #jhope #bts taehyung #taehyung #light angst #idol au #love #destiny

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maniacalmole · 2 years

Note

I've realised that not only did I forget to answer to your lovely comments on my "Writer's ask" post (I read them and they brightened my day), but I also forgot to send you some asks (and I was going to!) So, here are my questions (if you still want to take your mind off your work): 20, 30, 32, 35 (The original post is here, if you lost it: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/maniacalmole/689079306269442048?source=share)

It's been like a MONTH since you sent me this ask, and I'm sorry it took me so long to answer, but thank you so much for sending me these!!! <3

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

Rude witch....

I'm going to try to bargain, here. If I don't get my book published, does this mean I can never write it? Does it mean I can never think about it again? Can I still write and attempt to publish other books, just without the help of magic? As much as I want to share my story with others, it's ultimately for me, so if I can still at least think about it, then maybe that's enough....

I hope this isn't a betrayal of my very self or my soul or anything, but I think I'd choose my one true love. Good friendships are a wonderful thing, and really strong connections, which are even more rare, are....damn. So I think that's even more important to me. Usually my desire to share my writing is my desire to be known and loved for who I am, and sounds like I'd have that covered! But for once, I'm happy this genie-witch magic can't come true! I just have to struggle through the effort to find and make both happen like a normal mortal DX

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

Sometimes, I think a dream is so FASCINATING and GOOD that I MUST use it in a story! But pretty much always, when I wake up, I realize it's not impactful at all, that was just the strong dream emotions. And lack of a need for logic. Why can't we have these strong uninhibited dream emotions in real life!?

I don't think I've ever dreamed up a story that I actually want to write, sadly. A few in the past that I considered, but I've mostly forgotten them now :( There was one about a dragon! But the plot seems weird now, and I'd never be able to capture the imagery that was the real draw.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

This one was hard, because the only things I could think of were embarrassing or depressing. And from songs, but those are poems, in a way. But I'm just going to be honest.

"I've felt this bad for so long I'm scared I'm fine."

From the song "Guilttripping" by Frank Iero. I found it because I love MCR, and back when I was still on twitter, someone tweeted this lyric, and it hit me so hard I had to go and listen to one of the angstiest songs ever. But we NEED these songs. And I think, after all this time, the reason why is this--if it's worth pointing out, then it CAN'T be our normal, right? If we're writing lyrics about it, then it's not just the boring natural state of things. If we feel that bad, then there has to be something wrong. Then we have to keep fighting to fix it.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

Oh, so many. Kill your darlings? Take one step towards them and YOU'RE dead. Don't use adverbs? Fuck swiftly off.

But the one I destroy most.....Write every day. Or I'll never be a writer? HA. How DARE you imply that my absolute disaster of an ability to function in a really-very-easy-life is going to stop me from writing just because I don't get around to it as often as I should? My soul will talk when it wants.

#Thanks again so much sonnetnumber23! <3<3<3 #asks

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outeremissary · 1 year

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I was late to the asks so idk if you’re still doing them, but if you are…

💖,🌹,💜,🍆 for Marcus!!

Never too late! Seriously, as long as I can tell what prompt list something is responding to I'll try to answer even if it's months late. I usually only get like two asks max per list I post anyway. Though of course sometimes I get stuck on random ones and take months...

Anyway, from this list.

💖 Has your OC ever been in love, be it romantic or platonic or otherwise? Who with and did they ever express their feelings or keep it private? How long did these feelings persist / do they still feel this way?

The question saying "in love" makes it hard to see this as anything besides a romance despite how the rest is structured... "In love" has some pretty specific connotations in English, after all. I love my friends very deeply, but I'd never say I was in love with them. And I don't think anyone could discuss a familial relationship in relation to a sentence that started like that... but anyway. My late night grousing aside.

I suppose Marcus must have had a crush at some point when he was a kid, before things really went south with his family. He seems like the sort of person who would spend a lot of time agonizing over the perfect confession, even as a kid (maybe especially as a kid). He'd plan the date and time and event for confessing his feelings. He'd write and rewrite love poetry, getting more and more frustrated with it, and try to show an adult some for critique before getting nervous and snatching it away right as they began to read. He'd waffle back and forth on the poem, throwing it out and then taking it out of the trash and painstakingly rewriting it on nicer paper in his best cursive. And of course he'd be the sort to try to get a gift- it's the right thing to do, right? Flowers, chocolate, some cute little trinket. He'd figure all that out and probably have everything all assembled, and then the time would come and he wouldn't have the courage to go through with it. He'd hold it in and keep moping as long as it took the roses to wilt and the candy to be eaten. Then he'd try to forget all about it. He'd be awkward for ages afterwards. I have to imagine this was the basic template for his precocious crushes- some on peers, some on a particularly handsome teacher or mentor. Some known, some possibly requited, some not. And none of them went anywhere at all.

In the end, all his little affections and any lingering romantic angsts he might have had were ended abruptly by the crushing weight of an unexpected and early adulthood. When his family's fortune was lost and it became necessary for him to be a significant earner for the household he stopped thinking so much about others like that. I suppose it was all consumed by the anxiety he now feels interacting with anyone who could discover him. And it's all too much work, and he's so tired, and it could never work out. He just has to focus on his devotion to his family. That's all.

🌹 How easy is it for them to connect with others and make friends? On the flip side how easy is it for them to make an enemy of someone? Are they the kind of person who hangs around the food table at a party and never talks to anyone or are they the type who can talk to anyone?

It's not very easy for him to connect with others. He's good at coming across as polite or professional, but making actual connections is tricky. He's a somewhat standoffish person who can be intensely rules obsessed, judgmental, and moralizing, and he doesn't really understand how to positively interact with others while maintaining healthy boundaries or asserting his own needs. As a result he comes off as either intensely combative or as a serious doormat in most of his personal relationships. It's as unpleasant for him as it is for other people, but he tries not to dwell on it. It seems best not to connect anyway- after all, the other reason for his isolation is his need to maintain the secret of his double life to protect his family's reputation and cover for his father's failings.

I imagine that it's not hard for Marcus to make enemies, or at least to amass a list of people who really dislike him. See above. He's not really a charmer- you know as well as I! Most people dislike putting up with his abrasive attitude or find him to be a suckup. His perfectionist tendencies make him unpopular at his job as well- he's the type of person to ask to be added to projects just so that he can appoint himself the editor/person doing the final checks because he doesn't trust anyone else to do things correctly or to a reasonable standard. He always wants to correct things on other people's desks. And on top of that, he's late or absent so often... He's a hassle to work with! No one can argue with his results, but no one can tolerate him beyond that.

As for parties, you've seen that yourself. He's able to talk to anyone, but really he doesn't like to... once he's hit what he thinks is the mandatory threshold of polite interaction, he tries to find somewhere to stay out of the way.

💜 Music or Silence? Swords or Spells? Cities or Nature?

Silence. Not out of any dislike of music, it's just easier to work in quiet places. He appreciates quiet space to relax as well. I think for him there's an association between music and crowded or busy places. Big social situations seem a bit anxiety inducing for a number of reasons. He prefers spells to swords- swords aren't good for much, after all! You can use magic to communicate, to clean, to count things, for transportation, to heat your drink... What are swords good for? Showing off and killing. Both aren't very good things. He's not interested in either use. Between cities and nature he prefers cities- he's hardly ever been outside of Absalom. I think he hasn't spent much time in rural areas and he dislikes them simply for their unfamiliarity. City parks are fine though! Nature has to be something you can ingest in bites.

🍆 Tea or Coffee or Hot Chocolate? Sweet or Spicy? Fruits or Vegetables?

He's a serious coffee drinker. Not because he has any special passion for it, just because it's easy to get cheap, adequate coffee to stay awake for early shifts or overtime hours. He'd prefer sweets- once more, not out of any special passion for sweet things. He's got low spice tolerance and can easily get an upset stomach from spicy things. Something sugary is safer. Of fruits or vegetables, he'd prefer fruit. He just prefers the array of flavors- perhaps he likes natural sweetness after all? But he's not exactly picky about vegetables. He'll dutifully eat most foods he isn't very fond of, even if internally he's cringing.

#marcus de luca #ask me emithing #ask game #bearvanhelsing #sorry if the marcus answers aren't as vivid as some other stuff.#I feel like there are still a lot of details emerging about marcus #and some aren't the kind of thing I'm satisfied with on the first go #ultimately for characters I don't know well or topics I don't think about these games always represent a first draft

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lynsburner · 11 months

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Hi Lyn! I was wondering… in your ‘Verse, would you say Andrew wrote any of his songs for/about Lovely (reader)? If so, what are they, and what was her reaction to them?

And would you be willing to write any more Hozier fics in the future? There’s a terrible lack of them everywhere and yours are soooo good!!!

Hello. This answer is about to be super long. My bus home from work got stuck in a ridiculous amount of traffic. Plus, you got me ruminating on this all day at work (Outside the millions of phone calls I was supposed to make. People responding to an email you sent them? Revolutionary concept if you asked me!) and think I’ve decided firmly on, and hear me out on this, “No Plan.”

That song to me is about not worrying where things are going to go (The sun’s going to go out! Who gives a shit!) and to not sweat the small stuff. And I guess in this context, it’s about being a little worried about something new, like a relationship that has a lot of shit going against it. It’s about enjoying the little things that you do have. The “I think you’re worth at least trying,” or describing this love as “shiny and new, like a toy to be played with, nervously discovering all the nooks and crannies as time goes on.”

(Yes, I am quoting myself. I am a very self-centric person. I am sorry)

Also now I’m head cannoning that he texted her: Did you know the sun’s going out? After watching that talk and that’s when she hit him with the I like you. A lot. Too much, actually. What better time to confess your feelings for a dear friend than also getting him out of a doom spiral?

Anyway, one day she just gets texted an audio file with just “🖤” (the black heart emoji, which I’m sure is just one big Carly Rae Jepsen reference) out of the blue. It’s a messy, unpolished demo.

And when she doesn’t respond immediately since she’s taking it all in, he texts again:

Just wanted to know your thoughts on this…

Andrew…

Yes…?

What is this?

A song. Not sure if you’ve heard of them before. The proper definition is: “a short poem or other set of words set to music or meant to be sung.”

I hate you.

I don’t care what you think about me. I only care what you think about the song.

I love it. You? Debatable…

She calls him after that. They have a “Don’t bother me while I’m working,” on that list of rules, (“I wouldn’t ask you to help me with an Excel formula, would I?”) so it’s sort of rare she hears anything before it’s finished on purpose (not every wall can be reinforced with soundproofing material). It’s a special moment.

Ok. This was a tangent and then some. Thank you for letting me indulge my fantasies lol

Also, half of me wanted to answer this with “Sunlight” but only because that’s my favorite. But it also can be read as putting too much into something, especially with the entire 3rd verse comparing the love being had to the Icarus story, it almost sounds like it’s bound to end in tragedy (a lot of his songs do tbh I could write about that for days).

But, I do love the lyric “know that I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty” so much. Need me someone like that LMFAO.

Anyway, as for new stuff? I’m currently 3 chapters deep (of 10! and halfway through the last chapter, ironically) with an idea I’ve had for a while now that I’m really excited about. It’s pretty dialogue heavy and is set around a weekly get-together. I just don’t want to post any chapters until I’m finished because then it would never get done.

I did almost write a threequel (is that the right word?) to the first two stories, but the dialogue was too similar and they fit better in the chaptered idea. That one was about them revisiting a place they took a trip together as friends and why nothing happened between them that first time around (spoiler: Andrew was too high and too drunk to properly process feelings and his idea for them getting together comes off as more of a joke. The next morning he's got no memory of their argument, so back to square one they were!). They were probably going to get engaged at some point. Good for those crazy kids! I wish them the best!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this way too long of a response, Anon! Have a great night!

#lyn needs to stop talking

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