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enbesbians · 5 months

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hi there, haven’t been able to write all that much lately which bums me out but i wanted to share a story of mine i think some of you may be interested in.

if anyone here doesn’t know, im experienced within sex and im a very erotic person online as well as in real life. i haven’t had many sexual partners but with the partners i had been with, ive done a lot of experimenting. i wanted to share the first time i used a strap on a girl and the embarrassment that held within that.

during the springtime after my birthday, i had taken upon myself to invest in a strap on. i would always jokingly look on sites like adam and eve, window shopping at all the ones id like to get, feeling as if id never be able to, mostly cause i was scared shitless of my parents finding out that their offspring was buying a sex toy, let alone a fucking strap on. i went to spencers where they had a very limited selection, i wasn’t too picky, even though i stood in that section for god knows how long. it was a gummy purple five inch dildo, with a black harness that felt like a belt of a car— it was rough, complicated and left my skin feeling like i had rug burn. maybe it was because i didn’t know how to properly put it on or maybe the material was just that shitty… i don’t have it anymore so i can’t really test that theory.

my girlfriend at the time and i were very awkward with one another, we couldn’t even look at each other without geeking out and needing to squeal but when i had sex with her the first time (without the strap) it wasn’t as bad as i thought it would be. i was lucky enough to have a good enough tongue and a perverted mind where my hands would touch all over her like she was gold. the lead into that was funny though… i kept laughing and hesitating to do things like kiss her neck, touch her thighs… even taking her bra off, my hands were sweating and it seemed like the clip could not budge. i accidentally hit her nose (twice i might add) and i was not able to use dirty talk for the life of me… i hated my voice and saying ‘baby’ to her during a time like this made myself want to cringe knowing that i was able to hear what she could. but as we eased our way into it, the better it became and the more relaxed we started to be. by the point of me getting the strap, we had sexted two nights before, me being confident thinking i can totally ace the work of a strap on due to the numerous homemade lesbian porn videos of women straight banging their scene partners. she didn’t know i would buy one and she didn’t even mind the idea that we’d never even use one, but i got so turned on by the image of me using it on her so i worked on impulse and got it.

as the weekend approached, i believe the last day i was going to spend the night, i showed it to her. she giggled so hard, covering her face, telling me how she couldn’t believe i owned one. she was more excited than i thought she would’ve been and it only built the start of my ego to think id be any good at using it. thing was… my anxiety began to rise as things got more intimate. i felt like i couldn’t kiss her correctly and touching her body felt like my first time, shaking hands, constant deep inhales, and i would stutter, tripping over my touch as i tried talking sexy to her.

putting it on in front of her felt like i was being watched by the devil in the depths of hell… maybe even deeper— my body was so hot, i couldn’t stop trembling and i almost dropped it i think three times. she was nervous too and with the lack of communication it didn’t help much of anything.

i didn’t know how to start… i knew to prep her with my mouth and fingers and lube but as i started, it took so many times to get it inside of her… i kept saying i was sorry, asking her if she was okay and the frustration on my face was enough to almost break the mood. with her laying on her back, i finally got myself inside of her. moving my hips felt like i was pushing a bolder— they were so stiff and inconsistent. they got sore so fucking quick and i ended up stopping so many times just to ease the tension. it felt like hours and nothing was progressing and took into account that maybe using a strap was not something id ever use again. she didn’t cum from it so i just took it off, feeling embarrassed and stupid for not looking into how to use the damn thing. i just continued to do what i usually did and left it at that.

as some of you may know i value my partners pleasure and even if they’re satisfied, i strive to be better and with that night alone, i thought of the worst… i thought she was going to break up with me. i thought she wouldn’t think of me as this could person she’d always seen. i felt like i had ruined myself and there was no fixing it. i thought she was going to hate me. fortunately, all of my worries were resolved by her saying it was okay.

the next time we used it was probably a half a month later and it worked better… to put it lightly. she did cum from it and that eased me up by a million. i still didn’t think id be able to use it as much as i wanted and with her i almost didn’t. i was too worried thinking that id be worst than the first time and each time we had sex i thought she’d view me in a way that i was unable to pleasure her. as time continued and i let that worry slip, build up my strength in my hips and my stamina, it got better.

that’s pretty much it i guess… im too lazy to go too much in depth but for people saying im a sex god… i wanted people to know that i most definitely was NOT one. i was a shy, eager and anxious dude and with that girl, i felt like my sex performance was the most lackluster… if you want any more stories about my experience… you can ask, im gladly willing to share.

#fern talks🍃

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madmaudlingoes · 1 year

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Further Adventures in Dyeing

See previous installments, dying wool with Kool-Aid and dying wool with Wilton’s icing colors, for more explanations + some photos of my gross stovetop. It does not get cleaner.

[Image ID: several hanks for yarn variegated in shades of purple, teal and gray laid out on a white background. On top of them is a ball of blue-gray alpaca locks.]

I’ve actually done several more experiments with Wilton’s since my last post, but I keep running into the problem of breaking. Since many of Wilton’s colors are a mix of different food dyes, and they’re not meant for dying wool, the dyes are often absorbed quite differently by the fiber - they “strike” differently, and unevenly. Which is how I ended up with the test skeins in the above photo, from WIlton’s black, when my target color was the locks in the center. Super cool effect if you’re aiming for it, frustrating when you’re not.

Fortunately, I stumbled upon this video of a woman getting a true black using Wilton’s, and tried to replicate it myself. Allons-y!

[Image ID: a stainless steel stockpot partly full of water. A hank of white yarn is soaking in it.]

First step, as always, is to soak the test yarn and get it really wet. I’m using a big pot this time, instead of tupperware, because I want to give the yarn plenty of room to spread out - and I want to gently diffuse the dye and vinegar through the bath, so all the Red 40 doesn’t get sucked up by the first bits of fiber it hits.

[Image ID: the same stock pot as above, but the water is now a dark greenish color.]

Next step, per Andi’s video, is soaking the yarn in a cold dye bath with about 1/3 the total amount of dye being used. Not much color is going to strike without heat or acid, but it ensures the dye is evenly distributed around the yarn.

[Image ID: the same yarn above, held in a pair of metal tongs. It has become very faintly pink, though the dye bath in the background still looks dark greenish.]

After ~20 minutes, here’s what I had - a not-too-uneven layer of red. So I added the next 1/3 of the dye to the bath and put the heat on.

[Image ID: Close up of the same hank of yarn, again held in metal tongs. It is a slightly darker and more even shade of pink.]

Just heat has gotten more of the dye to strike, though I haven’t added any acid yet. That’s the main reason for the switch to the big pot: a larger volume of water to start with means I can lower the pH gradually with small additions of vinegar, and I can avoid pouring vinegar directly on the yarn (which will just make a bunch of red strike that spot at once).

[Image ID: same yarn as before, but it is now a bright berry color.]

By gradually adding acid (and the last 1/3 of my dye dose) I can get all the Red 40 evenly applied to the yarn and start fixing the Blue 6 without any uneven spots. That’s why the dye bath, in the background of the photo, looks so green - it’s all Blue 6 (and a little yellow) that hasn’t struck the yarn yet.

[Image ID: multiple photos of the same yarn, as the color darkens from berry to purple to dark gray.]

It took a lot of fiddling with the temperature to keep the water hot but not boiling, and a lot of very small additions of vinegar, but eventually the dye bath ran out and I got this beautiful - and very even! - dark gray color.

[Image ID: the skein of dark gray yarn drying on a hook, with a green towel in the background.]

It! Is! Gray! All! The! Way! Round!

Now it’s just down to getting the color right so I can get to the next step of my actual project - dying some Rambouillet wool to make the alpaca locks I got from Breezy Ridge Alpacas. Then I card them together, and then I spin!

#fiber arts #dyeing #crafts

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archaeopter-ace · 1 year

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Back in January I decided that my To Do list needed to be more ~tactile~, and since my new system has been working well going on four months now, I thought I’d share it here

[Image ID: a one-foot square of corkboard in a rustic brown frame, displayed flat on a surface. An eight-pointed compass rose has been painted on it in gold and dark teal, with a circle in the center left bare. At the points of the compass are tiny pins holding metal numbered circular tags in place; visible are numbers 9 through 12. Placed on top of the compass are an assortment of small objects; each object occupies no more than two halves of a point. Object include a Dirt Devil pin, a soda can tab, a yellow push pin, a frying pan and iron from a Monopolgy game, a brown fake leaf, a puzzle piece, a red carabiner, an AO3 Kudos pin, a tiny raven, and white buttons glued together with an charm-sized metal spoon. Off to one side is an upside-down 1.5 inch pot with a strawberry eraser on top. / End ID]

I painted a compass rose onto a square of cork that I had from a previous craft project (the frame is a super-lucky find from Goodwill!). Each point represents one hour, divided into half-hour increments. Number tags are used to indicate time, e.g. I set this one up to start getting things done at 9 AM. (I use a 24 hr clock, so 1 PM is represented with 13)

It only runs for 8 hours unless I go back and update it in the middle of the day, but 8 hours of being productive is enough to be getting on with, and if I don’t hit my targets, then there’s just flex time built in.

Every morning I populate my daily schedule with tokens from a pool of possibilities. And that’s one of the things I really like about this, over conventional To Do list making: I feel encouraged to vary my routine, do something different than I did the day before, give a token I like but haven’t used in a while a chance to come into play.

[Image ID: A large round wooden serving platter covered with small objects, like something out of a kid’s ‘I Spy’ book. Included are: various buttons, a tiny birdhouse charm, a mini Swedish Dala horse, LEGO Spider-Man, two disembodied hands, a 9V battery, toy Mini Cooper convertible I got out of a Kinder egg, white elephant bead, snowflake earring, plastic rat, carved wooden lion, chess piece, supermarket member token, piece of rose quartz with a wolf engraved on it, headphone, rubbed lizard, a 1 centimeter microchip, cardamon pod, fake yellow and blue flowers, plastic shapes, mini halogen bulb, pizza charm, brown glass apothecary jar, and an antique toy refrigerator for a dollhouse. / end ID]

The advantages I have found to using this system:

No red-text OVERDUE designation like on some to do list apps. I get done what I can and that’s good enough. And unlike when I was writing out my list on a piece of paper, it’s super easy to re-arrange as the day goes along.

A lot of people say the fun part of making To Do lists is crossing things off. That is only true if you succeed and actually manage to cross things off. Otherwise you are left with a lot of uncrossed items, which can make you feel worse. Under my new To Do list, the fun part is adding things to my list. I start my day thinking about what I want to fill my day with - fun leisure activities included - and even if I have a very unproductive day and hardly get anything done, just starting out the day every day with this attitude has been a tremendous help.

It only covers one day at a time. I save tomorrow’s worries for tomorrow, just focused on Today

It doesn’t tell me I need to complete given tasks, just that I need to work on them for the allotted time

Brains will read text automatically. I can’t look at a word and Not read it. Which means that with a traditional To Do list, I can’t help but look ahead and worry about an upcoming task I might be dreading. With this tactile to do list, everything is representational. It makes it easier to compartmentalize and deal with one task/activity at a time. Relatedly, it makes it easier to engage with tasks I really dread by giving them a cool token.

It’s flexible. Partly because it’s vibes-based and just needs to make sense to me, but also because I can combine established tokens together. So if I combine ‘Doctor’ with ‘Telephone,’ I need to call to my doctor. But if I combine ‘Telephone’ with ‘Friend’s Token,’ it means I want to call that friend, and if I combine ‘Friend’s Token’ with ‘Computer,’ I should email them instead. ‘Computer’ can be combined with ‘Organize Files,’ etc.

Fun Things and Chores are treated equally. They are all just how I want to be spending my time. This has helped me find time to draw and go for walks, instead of getting stuck in a rut of scrolling on my phone or reading endless fanfiction. There are many and varied ways to entertain my brain, and seeing the maximalist clutter of possibilities every morning helps to remind me of that.

[Image ID: The same board arrangement as the first image, this time close-up from a lower angle. / End ID]

This was my planned schedule for today.

9AM: Dirt Devil pin says clean up house. Paired it with soda can tab for take trash and recycling to dump, and the white buttons and mini spoon that means do dishes.

10AM: large flat brown leather button resting on a Lord of the Rings ring of power, with a one-inch miniature book on top. Go to library, I have some things I need to return. While I’m there, I can take advantage of the distraction-free environment to

11AM: paperwork. It was very satisfying to hammer that nail through a stack of scrap paper. 11:30 This is the token I made to represent Writing. A hexagonal piece of plastic covered in newspaper for the base, onto which I glued a circular bronze-colored button and topped with another button, this one with a swirly green gemlike qualities and gold accents.

12 o’clock: Lunchtime! It’s a frying pan.

1PM has a unicorn-head pushpin and a cast iron raven figurine, representing tumblr and discord, respectively. (For me, ‘tumblr’ here means ‘hey, how about finally getting around to reblogging things from my 4000+ drafts? Or the stuff I’ve been liking since Goncharov that I intended to reblog just as soon as I had the time to go through likes?’)

At 2PM brown leaf says go outside, red carabiner on top says go hiking.

3PM jigsaw puzzle piece says work on a jigsaw puzzle, that one’s pretty straightforward. 3:30 has the iron from a Monopoly game, so I will be putting laundry away.

4PM has an AO3 kudos tag, to remind me to leave one of those comments I’ve been meaning to get around to for ages...

And that’s my planned schedule for the day! If I get even half of these things done it will have been a pretty successful day, lots to feel good about.

[ID: The small brown apothecary jar, sitting in a sunny windowsill. Inside are what appear to be dead insects. /End ID] Bonus! A close-up of the jar of wasps I use to represent doctor business. I think it sums up how I feel about making appointments nicely. (Actually going is fine, finding a doctor and making appointments is the struggle).

#time management #to do list #personal tag

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you-are-my-neverland · 1 year

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[id: a graphic with a series of three images: a girl with her eyes cast in shadow, a statue of a saint dripping gold, and two hands with light between them. the text overlaid reads ‘the metamorphosis of the lost’ / end id]

THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE LOST → A ROUND UP

“Kevla is rotten to the core,” June continued. She was as close to impassioned as India thought she would ever visibly be, reminding India of the times June had opened up before, the anger burning like a bright, cold, distant star in her eyes. “You can’t fix Kevla. All you can do is remove some of the damage.”

after roughly fourteen months of writing, i am proud to announce that the first draft of the metamorphosis of the lost is officially done. at the start of the summer last year (2022), i had only 120k words, and the end seemed unreachable. now, i’ve wrapped up the first draft at a rounded up value of 310k. it’s crazy to think that i’ve actually reached this point. i started tracking my writing progress during my summer goal of 200k, and continued to do so during the fall semester, of which i only failed to write one day. in retrospect, all those days where i was too tired to write more than a few sentences, with word counts under 100, and the months where i struggled to hit my goal of 500 a day - all those days piled up to the completion i achieved right on time for 2023 to hit.

will i definitely do more work on this novel? who knows. i can’t say for certain that i’ll ever go back to it, or that a second draft will occur. but i hope i will. i always planned for tmotl to have a companion piece, for this to be the first part of a duology. do i have nothing but a few scattered ideas tying the two together? yes. i do need to actually tackle the plot of that rumored companion novel soon.

“What did you ever do for me?” she asked bleakly. “I’m dead because of you. If you had cared at all, the Black Saint would have died long before I came back to find him still alive.” If he had been dead then, I might have come back to you, she didn’t say, because it was something that she would never be able to take back if she did.

i’ve posted a lot of (unpolished) excerpts on here before, so in honor of finishing the first draft, i figured i would let myself talk about the writing process and all the little things i haven’t shared yet! if you were ever interested in finding out more about this wip, or read the posts i’ve made and thought ‘idk what this is about but this is cool’ (as i never did post those character profiles or setting notes or anything informative beyond the wip intro...), read on.

(fair warning: it’s long.)

Kevla itself might be larger than life, but India didn’t believe in the city either. She just knew it existed, because she couldn’t ignore its presence in her life.

Maybe Kevla was God.

we’ll start with the city itself. kevla, a city set somewhere on the coast, estranged from the rest of the world that it can’t really be imagined somewhere on a map. kevla is, at it’s heart, a gritty thing to behold: it is a city that is trying to kill you, and the only thing that will save you.

there have been many times when i’ve looked at a wip and said, this wip is just going to be normal. there will be no magical realism in this wip.’ this was not the case for tmotl - when i was first visualizing the story, i knew that i wanted the city the vigilantes occupy to be alive in a very magical realism way. therefore, kevla is a sentient being, though it is never explicitly called that. it is only understood by the characters throughout the story, by anele and india and vin and june. it is talked about as something that acts on its own. in this, kevla becomes both the setting and a character.

kevla itself is neatly divided into districts. i live in the suburbs, and have not lived in any big metropolises, but i have visited nyc, and d.c. is kevla not exactly designed as a realistic city would be? yes. but i think it fits into the rest of the novel - kevla has to be small for logistical reasons, but it also has to be larger than life. it has to be a peninsula, with a raging coastline, and it has to have a living forest cutting it off from everything else. the people who live in kevla understand the uncanny nature of their city, but it is not unusual to them - it’s just the place they live.

He didn’t say anything. India drew in a shuddering breath and felt his chest expand slightly, in the barest way, ribs rigid through his costume. She could draw a knife right now, stab him fatally, slide it into the spot between the ribs, drive it in through his skin and break through his back. If not that, then a bullet at close range. The possibilities were endless. At this point, she could see the seams in his body armor. Everything and anything could be destroyed at this close.

india, india, india. tmotl definitely doesn’t have a single main character - june and india both share that title, and many other characters have a substantial amount of povs - but tmotl is also very much india’s story, because she’s the girl i wanted to write about first. an angry girl. an outcast. someone who is overflowing with all the wrong emotions. someone who bares her rage on her teeth.

india as indigo is directionless. she’s stuck in place, and she doesn’t know where she’s going. it’s only after she’s killed by the black saint and returns as the red saint that she finally has a purpose - to kill the black saint, and to prove the world (the vigilantes) wrong. to show them. where she had just been following other people’s paths, and rules, now she forges her own. still, even, she’s torn in her heart - does she really want burned bridges? does she want death? apologies? for all that india claims, she doesn’t really know, herself, but it takes her a long time before she can admit that to herself.

india is, at her core, unpredictable. she’s a series of contradictions, which is intended. no matter how much drive you have, it doesn’t amount to anything if you don’t know where you’re going, or why you’re going at all. she’s a treasure trove of trust issues, impulses, and sharp edged defenses. she doesn’t trust anyone, because she was abandoned from birth - there was never anyone in her corner until she met anele and vin. even then, even with a found family, she put up the walls; she wants to be understand, while believing so strongly in the fundamental divide between them all - that they will never understand what it’s like to be her.

india is a mouthpiece for something that often echoed throughout my thoughts, especially when first brainstorming for tmotl. who gets to decide who the good guys are in vigilantism? are you the good guys, india asks, because you didn’t let your trauma affect you? because you dealt with it ‘neatly?’ am i the bad guy for not being able to?

“I didn’t die easily,” June said ferociously. “None of us died easily. People like you didn’t let us die easily. Our death, to you, was nothing but a chance, but for us it was hell, over and over again. Why do you expect compassion from me when you never had any for any of us? You didn’t change anything. You didn’t save anyone. You took a legacy and let it live on.”

She swallowed back her anger and lividity, fingers curling around the knife handle.

“Complacency is a crime.”

june, our other leading lady. summer 2021, when i was first having the beginnings of an idea of what this story would become, june’s description was ‘a revenge driven victim of nonconsensual body modification/experimentation.’ she was always designed to be the perfect experiment, in a way. she’s the timepiece, not a cog, of the weaponization of children.

june’s story is one of agency. of irony. she’s dissociated from her body - it is just a thing she lives in. it was something that was made by other people. she uses that body to kill the people that made her, as if saying, ‘look what the body you made can you do. look what the thing you made is capable of.’ she is the sword that turns on its owner, the weapon that fights back instead of fleeing. where does the weapon end and the girl begin? she doesn’t even know herself.

june is the ice to india’s fire. they complement each other like that. she’s the level headed one, the executioner. india’s all impulsivity and anger, emotions spilling out over the edges as june keeps everything she feels close. she doesn’t even know how much she’s feeling at any time; june keeps everything muted, a further dissociation from the self.

her revenge is not really revenge so much as it is vengeance. it’s the only way she can even begin to reclaim her agency, and while she acknowledges that at some level, outwardly the reason for what she does is simple: so that it never happens to anyone else. not for herself, but for everyone else. or so she tells herself.

“We’re here,” Vail said. “If you ever want to talk more about any of it, we’re here.”

“But you’re not,” Emrys said, hating the way her voice cracked on the last word. “All of you are here, but you’re not there.”

They were alone. She felt terrible and peculiar, as if they were pins on a map, standing in the same city but far away from each other. As if walking in parallel lines, but heading in different directions. When India had been there, things had been different. When Aerin had been there, Emrys had thought she would at least have the comfort of knowing she wasn’t alone, but she was alone. They all were.

emrys wasn’t supposed to be that main of a character, but she ended up badgering her way into the story anyways, snatching up a large percentage of povs. she became very close to my heart, maybe because, out of all of the characters, she was the most like me in her mind (and i spent a lot of time in her mind). kind of like my embodiment of girlhood - she’s in her nebulous coming of age, in the background: confronting hard truths and hard feelings alongside grief, as she steps into new shoes all on her own. she didn’t quite end up following the ideas i had in mind for her, but i’m pretty satisfied with the emrys i have left.

emrys was supposed to be the hope of the group. in every story (at least for me), there must be someone who represents the new when it comes to the old (pain, trauma, tradition, etc). in a twist of irony, emrys herself became aware of this - she herself thinks that she doesn’t want to be hope, or in pandora’s box at all.

for a character that was supposed to be the happy, bright one, the emrys we meet in tmotl is living out an aftermath. that happy, bright girl is who she used to be. the girl she is now is one transforming, becoming a darker shadow to her brighter body. many of the things she does throughout the story would be considered uncharacteristic from those who know her, and even though the readers are not aware of who this girl used to be (and only catch glimpses of her), the reactions of other characters tell us this.

“You know why I saved you,” Catrin said.

“I do,” Vin agreed. He could never forget the life debt he carried so heavily on his heart, which had stayed his hand a hundred times over. It was the reason he was loyal to her after all; their relationship was built on mutual debt, with which came a degree of shared trust. Vin had always known that one day she might aim him at someone with intent to kill, and he would do it. If only to keep the balance.

onto vin, one of the older members of this vigilante group at 25, but no less important. he is supposed to come off as almost inhuman - flexible beyond measure, moving like a shadow, so quiet that he makes no noise at all, as if he was a ghost. vin is a mystery, and a private person, who is frustratingly hard to understand to his younger counterparts, such as india and emrys, and still an enigma to his older partners, such as anele. he has one of the most thought out characterizations (because i had so much to work out when it came to his character), but you probably learn the least about him throughout the story.

vin bears the brunt of india’s anger and emrys’ frustration in the story, partially because he’s so hard to communicate with (in a way), and partially because he’s the one they want to prove themselves to. he’s aloof and talented; he never messes up, or calls the wrong shot. he was built for the job, it seems. of course, this is what it looks like on the surface - underneath tells a story, the dark side of june’s moon. human experimentation to the point of dehumanization. on the surface, he looks ordinary. inside, who knows what he has become.

vin operates by a strict moral code. he’s brutal, and capable of extreme cruelty, but he never kills. in a fight, he says, the only thing that matters is the people you want to protect. one rule, but it’s the only thing that matters. this is where he and india clash - she wants the black saint dead, but vin will never kill (for reasons relating to backstory info that can’t be shared at this moment lol).

a fun fact, though, which i don’t think i actually mentioned in the first draft even though it’s so clever, is that vin is short for corvin. corvin derives from corvinus, which derives from the latin word corvus in turn. corvus literally means raven, but it also refers to the genus of birds including crows, ravens, etc. his vigilante name is crow btw.

Angry was too close to being a bomb herself, and for all her sermons on understanding bombs, Anele had already died in the face of one. She did not want to become one herself.

When bombs exploded, they left no survivors. Even the ones who lived were not untouched.

The ones who died, too, even.

anele!! the wisest of the bunch, maybe, if wisdom equals years. she’s not the mother figure, but more like an older sister to many of the vigilantes. someone you would go to for advice. where everyone else came from empty and hard childhoods, anele grew up loved with a single father, in a suburban neighborhood. she has memories she can look back on with fondness, instead of ones tainted by death or grief.

although anele is always moving forwards, she, too, is mired in the past. she grieves for herself. she visits her father as a ghost, leaving him things without ever knocking on the door, because she is afraid she wouldn’t be welcomed back as one of the living. so much of her current life is trapped in the half second before she died the first time. she might not have believed in the system, but she participated in it, until dying. then, she realized it was always going to fail her. despite being straight laced, she believes in the gray line between black and white, the area outside of laws and all that.

anele steps into the role of x-le with ease, but at the heart of the matter, she doesn’t trust catrin, especially since she never asked to be saved, or to be brought back to life with metal in her veins. she doesn’t allow this to color her professional relationships, but on a personal level, she doesn’t hide her scrutiny.

anele and vin have by far one of my most favorite relationships in the novel, mostly because she is, at least, deeply in love with him in a way that can’t even be described as love. it’s subtle, but interwoven in all their interactions. feelings where there shouldn’t be. emotion where it can’t exist. makes me go insane, honestly.

You didn’t have to answer, Diem thought, but couldn’t make herself say it, because a part of her had always been waiting. Ever since her childhood, when she had first heard the whispered rumors about her father, when she had realized that there would always be questions about her birthright and place following her, she had been waiting for a father to claim. For a father to destroy.

Her mother’s hand on her own, helping her slide the knife into skin, wiping the blood spray for her face gently, showing her how to clean the blade.

diem is, out of all the vigilantes (our heroes and heroines), the most antagonistic one by design. she is one of the characters that was meant to stay the truest to their original designs (of an old wip also called tmotl i half planned back in 2019-2020, of which several characters were taken off the shelf and dusted off for this story). the diem i created then was cutthroat and hard to the bone, the kind of person who used people and threw them away when she was done. here, her personality is a bit toned down, if only because she has to take the back burner - she’s not the leader, but now a ‘lackey.’ a team member. however, although diem might be one with the team, she very much chafes against the idea, an independent contractor.

daughter of the infamous bowman, a criminal overlord, and an unnamed man, diem grew up in a life of elite crime. she might have died since then, but it only made her harder. out of all of them, diem is the one who focuses the most on impartiality, of cutting things off before they drag her down. she cuts her losses before they can cut her. sentimentality has no place in her - she is a brutal machine, always pushing herself forward. the only soft spot she has is for vail, and even then, she’s hard pressed to show it. to diem, all her weaknesses became her strengths, including her death.

to india, diem is someone she wants to destroy. prior to death, they were always at each other’s throats, and after it, it’s no surprise that diem is the main voice preaching that india can’t be saved. their similarities only cause their differences to be more abrasive.

Kevla already had one saint. It didn’t need another. The audacity they had to call themselves Saints when all they did was contribute to the hell so many people were trapped in made Vail vengeful—he didn’t believe in Saints, and even if he did, they wouldn’t be the ones who walked the streets. Saint wasn’t a title one gave themselves; it had to be earned.

vail is the quiet one. where everyone else is brimming with opinion and emotion, vail is in the backdrop, a muted color against all the vivid, dark ones competing for space. he is kind and compassionate in comparison to diem’s hard headed ruthlessness, but he’s also the only one who can meet her head on without getting emotionally involved - maybe that is why he is the only one who can temper her.

vail is a man of family and faith, but he keeps both those things close to his heart. although he is a sentimental person, he is always hiding that part of himself, because it got him hurt, over and over again. family and faith hurt him, killed him, but he doesn’t know how to let it go. can’t.

all the characters pay homage to some sort of divine presence at least once or twice throughout tmotl, but vail is the only one who believes in a specific god, instead of an entity-that-might-be-a-god, or kevla-as-a-god-or-divine-being. kevla is a city that kills organized religion, but vail’s faith is too great to be killed.

He’d thought that he had gotten over it. That the past had stopped chasing him. That, when the past finally found him, Mika would be ready for it. That he would fight it. That he would kill it.

How many times had he dreamed of that night? How many times had he dreamed of another dreary Kevlan landscape, where this time he was the victor?

mika, son of the mockingbird. like diem, he believes in absolute strength, not allowing himself any sign of weakness. he’s very independent, and though he seems unwavering, he’s actually insecure in his identity, if only because of the immeasurable shadow his parents - a chemist and famous vigilante, respectively - left behind.

mika’s story is one of legacy. like his mother before him, he traverses the city in the guise of night, as phantom. he’s cynical, the pessimistic voice among those who believe in the best, and deals with everything that bothers him with coldness, putting up high walls. although he seems closed off, inside he carries a bone deep determination to survive, to defeat ‘evil’ and triumph. his thoughts on justice are often unclear, as is his morality, but he approaches the title of vigilante with a ruthless efficiency.

catrin flint, emrys’ aunt, is mika’s guardian, through a series of loosely explained events - often because it is not clear to mika or emrys themselves how catrin knew his mother, and what led her to take him in. mika never wanted another family, and that much is clear to both flints, but he is also the one who ends up being the most in emrys’ corner as she goes through grief and changes. he doesn’t agree with her on most things, but he stays by her side all the same.

mika was originally supposed to have a touch of magical realism to him as well - and he should still, if the necessary revisions are done and hints portrayed. mika was supposed to be someone who walked the shadowy line of the veil, seeing/communicating with the dead, or hand in hand with death (with nebulous connections to his own death or near-death experience).

Suicidal, Drakov had called him back then, when he had spared him and Jericho had thrown it away in favor of not taking the hint, trailing him because he had seen a lifeline in the other man, one he wanted to grasp, like flailing in the ocean and chancing upon a buoyancy device. It was coming out of a haze, like a dying man who had been living life with the expectation of it ending only to realize that he wanted to live.

But Jericho wasn’t fifteen. He was Jailbird, had been for years. He’d trained under Drakov, the only person he knew who had had the honor. He’d managed to survive in this shitty city, had gotten out of the trap where thousands of others had died, and had carved out a living without paying penance to anyone but himself.

jericho’s the only vigilante without a team, but he makes up for it by having plenty of connections. he’s india’s friend, before and after. he becomes mika’s and emrys’ connection in the grimy city, and potential ally. he communicates with the dragon, the only person who can reveal information on the assassin on a personal, instead of professional, level (with the exception of a few).

a vigilante who is more like a mercenary, jericho goes by the pseudonym jailbird, and mostly keeps to himself. he’s shrewd, witty, and plays the game as smart as he can as a kid on his own - and it’s worked; he’s managed to avoid any major trouble. out of all the cast, jericho is one of the few who avoids a near death experience.

still, he deals with a fair amount of imposter syndrome and guilt, most of which is only alluded to, as he only gets the rare pov. i can’t speak much on him because several big facts about him are technically plot relevant info that gets revealed in the novel itself.

June wondered if that was before or after he had died for the first time, before or after the first time he had tried to kill himself. With Rhys, the first time had never been the last. She thought of what he had said the last time they had talked so closely. I don’t care about life or death, June. I don’t care about the people I kill. I don’t care if it gets me killed.

She held the blade up to him. The pale light glinted on the edges, showing the smooth, glossy sheen of it all.

if winter were a person, it would be personified through rhys. aptly enough, his last name is winters, although this never gets mentioned in-text (i don’t believe). surprisingly, rhys doesn’t get a single pov throughout tmotl, even when most of the characters mentioned here get at least one (like mika). still, he has a presence, if only because he is june’s partner in crime. they come from the same history, cut from the same cloth.

rhys is the apathetic type of person who doesn’t believe in anything. he’s suicidal (to a lesser degree in the present, but this is still an explicit textual fact). he likes to weaponize his discomfort and acidic personality to make other people (namely kit) uncomfortable. human misery on the downlow, though this could also be attributed to the fact that he lives a miserable existence - as if his history wasn’t bad enough, in death he was saved and made alive only through the fact that he is literally toxic, consigning him to a life wearing a gas mask, as his breathe could kill people if it is not filtered.

in tmotl, rhys is in many ways an abettor. does he care for june’s revenge? not really, but he helps her with it anyways, because what he feels for june is complicated, but he would follow her anywhere, if only because she gives him something to do. does he care about kit? does he care about human life? who knows. sometimes he says things just to be contradictory.

rhys was also from the original wip, and he stays much the same, if a little more fleshed out. so does his and kit’s antagonistic relationship.

Flames were dancing in the fever bright blue of Kit’s eyes, his arm running red as he carelessly studied the tracker, letting it catch the light. She could see the thin displeasure set in Rhys’ mouth, even behind the gas mask, which snaked around his ears, the rebreathers fitted like a glove to the lower half of his face. He passed her a strip of cloth wordlessly, his own arm bound. She in turn took Kit’s hand, nodding at the tracker as she cinched a quick tourniquet.

“I know,” Kit murmured, and then threw the tracker back towards the warehouse. His skin beneath June’s cool, blood stained fingers was burning. She could feel the thud of his heartbeat beneath the thin skin of his wrist, beating a wild rhythm, but when she looked at him more carefully, he still stood unwavering, which was good enough.

this excerpt is actually from page number one. kit, our final ‘main’ character (besides the villains and adults of the story, which are not quite as interesting, and also don’t have much i can reveal about them without spoiling things), is part of june’s team of three. he doesn’t go out in costume like basically every single other character; he doesn’t even have a code name. he’s the technology behind june’s operation, the one who runs things behind the scenes for her and rhys.

kit is important because he’s who june wants to protect. he’s one of the reasons she keeps moving forward at all. he’s a failure, at least to the organization - they saved him, but they couldn’t make him something better. sometimes, when you fix something broken, it doesn’t turn out as it was. for kit, this means a slow, aching death sentence, fighting the deterioration of his own body.

still, kit tries to stay brave in the face of it all. he’s light hearted, especially in comparison to rhys and june’s dark moods. he’s a light - something june follows, and rhys abhors. much of kit is a mix of appearance and projection; it is as it looks, but it also isn’t. sometimes, you’ve barely scratched the surface, because as much as kit is the open one, he also has a history of lying and conning that mark him as as much of a street kid as india, or june was.

he’s destined for death. the only question - one that is revisited throughout tmotl in scenes - is how long it will take before he gets there.

That last day in the Fold had never stopped being a blade lodged in his sternum. Vin could still feel it, the wound it covered. If he ever pulled the knife free, he would bleed out, but the longer he kept it in, the more damage would be done in the long run.

He kept the blade in. It was the risk he could take, for now.

that’s it for now. i could go on and on, but i think i’ve written enough for now. if you have any questions about this work on the characters, or just want to know something, please reach out via my ask box or messages! i hope this piqued your interest - that being said, if you would like to be added to this specific taglist, or my general taglist, let me know in some way shape or form!

taglist: @cannivalisms @sunshineomeara @thepixiediaries @muddshadow

#.txt #wip: tmotl #wip: the metamorphosis of the lost #writers on tumblr #my writing #creative writing #wip info #first draft #writeblr #wip #wip excerpt #gratuitous amounts of folly here (me rambling about it)#this is SO long but in my defense this is what i want on my blog. long posts where i just talk about my writing #no more making stuff look pretty. i want it to be what i want. and that is about how much i LOVE what i write ok #anyways. hope this cleared some things up or made them more confusing #i have a whole tag you can peruse if you want to learn more or refresh your memory #10+ characters that i never introduced outside of excerpts...we love to see it #this is so crazy and insane and this took me days to write on top of that #but i'm DONE so please interact if you want #if you have the time <3 #and send me an ask if you want to know more!!!

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joshfmpyeartwo · 4 months

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Dating sim / Visual novel

A made a second board on pinterest for the next idea. I’ve wanted to take on some form of character design and some more detailed pixel art for a while now so for this idea, it would also be a collaboration with a friend from my class, to enable to me to put my full attention on art and story (My specialism). The ide to make a dating simulator came about in a discussion about doki doki literature club and Dream daddy, although we weren’t entirely serious at the time, this is probably the best choice to show off my game art and storytelling skill set, as well as my friends experience with widgets and programming.

The moodboard I have created for this idea started on mythology as I have always been really fascinated with Gods and their stories. I was specifically looking into the modernist revisiting of greek Gods and how they would look in a present day setting. The idea at this point was to make a cafe/bar in olympus and create a game similar to Coffee talk. After this I started to move more into direct inspiration for the character design. I started looking at all all of the characters from the game Hades, as it’s one of the only video games to depict greek Gods. Considering this is my FMP and I hadn't done illustrative art before, I decided to move my ideas over to some high resolution pixel art and simplistic illustrations which is the entire top half on my board.

The main art styles, i’m looking at are the soft, simplistic illustrations (the images on the right), semi-detailed pixel art with a red to purple colour palette like the middle left image, and chibi, low res pixel art like the far left image.

My mindmap for this idea has: Art, Visual novel, Gameplay and Love interest as it’s 4 main themes. All of these are the most important aspects in a dating simulator as the game wouldn't be remotely playable without even one of these topics.

I added Love interest as a way of expanding the ideas for what the love interests are going to be . The obvious one, and the one I explored wit the moodboard, was Greek mythology because of their link to Midas and the destruction of Gods topic on our initial mind map, I think this could be a really good idea. I also Added the Norse mythology because the stories involved in it are incredibly interesting, creating a few more options when it comes to creating a story or opportunities for more complex and interesting character design. I also put down alternate reality to give me more options of time period and setting. I was mainly trying to create a line up of characters that haven’t really been seen in another visual novel. For this reason, I also thought it would be cool to look into adding some time travelling/alien characters.

Visual novel was added because it’s what I see as the most important part of making a game like this work well. Without any visual novel would lack substance or fun. This was also an opportunity to look at some ideas for a story. I was going down the norse mythology route and was thinking about creating a modern ragnarok, where the only way to save the world is to date all of the gods. For the alternate reality characters, I was looking into some sort of space bounty hunter dating simulator, or even a time travelling one, where you visit different famous historical events and date people from them.

The art theme is equally important because the gameplay is usually pretty basic. I’ve used this as one of my themes to generate some ideas for what aesthetic I would want our game to capture. The one I’m leaning towards the most is the chibi pixel art portraits, or ones similar to the Senpai in Friday Night Funkin because I feel more comfortable creating pixel art. Having said this I also enjoy more simplistic hand drawn stuff. I also love the more cartoon, thick outlined art in Dream daddy, which could even fit with the time travelling or alien ideas. Although it’s rarely been done, a 3D visual novel is also possible, and I now have the experience to make it look good in the context of a visual novel. I was looking at 2.5D (like octopath traveller), and cel-shading (in something like Zelda).

Although the gameplay is mostly going to be up to my friend, it can’t hurt for me to look into it because it can also affect the story and art depending on what it is. Ours is going to include various puzzles and minigames to determine the outcome of certain interactions, and possibly dates, or serve as a combat mechanic, and treat the dates as if they were a battle.

The idea is you'll flip between going on quests to build up your attributes and then talk to each God to try and impress them to save the earth.

youtube

Doki doki literature club is a deceptive psychological horror disguised as a cute visual novel. I am researching this game as it has an incredible progression and story. It relates to this idea through the style of gameplay and our game would follow a similar gameplay style as the poem building mechanic. You can change your style of gameplay to impress a certain God.

youtube

Coffee talk is a visual novel based around the intertwined lives of a fantasy based community in the city. Looking into this would be a good idea as it shares a similar art style to what I'd be looking at replicating. It uses high resolution pixel art profiles of each character, not to mention most characters are designed after mythical beings which could translate well to Greek Gods. I also love the coffee making latte art minigames, they add a bit of fun on the side of the heavy story based gameplay.

youtube

Dream daddy is a dating simulator following a dad that's just moved into the neighborhood and starts trying to date all the dads. The thing I like about this game is that it doesn't push one person towards you, it gives you a bunch of options with varying personalities. I've chosen to look into this game as it's one of the few visual novels that can sustain a players attention to the dialogue. A lot of visual novels don't attempt to add humor or even just realistic interactions which is something I think this game does really well. When I'm writing the script for our game I'll have to keep this in mind.

youtube

Hatoful boyfriend is a dating sim based around birds. It has a massive focus on humor and bringing light to how stupid a lot of visual novel clichés can be. I decided to research this for a similar reason I chose dream daddy. Because it's writing isn't entirely focused on strange inhuman encounters and cringe dialogue, it's closer to being satire with a mix between dating sim clichés and comedy. I'd like to do something similar, maybe leaning more into a genuine dating sim with good writing and a bit of comedy. It's worth keeping this in mind when writing the dialogue to make sure it sounds fluid and interesting.

youtube

Monster prom is a game where you play as a college student trying to get one of your classmates to come to the prom with you. The reason I've picked this game is that I really like how it handles character design. Each character looks exactly like their personality.

#Youtube

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whennnow · 10 months

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Embroidered Regency Reticule

June 24, 2019

[Image ID: a photo of a blue satin bag with white embroidery, two white tassels, and a white cord drawstring]

A year or so ago, on a trip to JoAnn Fabrics, I stumbled upon some nice fabric in the softest classic-Disney-Cinerella blue. The fabric was 100% polyester, unfortunately, but I had already fallen deeply in love with the color, and it was a decent price, so I caved and bought some. I knew immediately that I was going to make pieces for my Regency wardrobe with it, since it was already shaping up to be a very blue wardrobe.

I knew I wanted to make a reticule with it, for sure. Using my Pinterest boards as a starting point, I looked at common shapes and decorations. I eventually settled on this late 1790s-early 1800s bag from the Museum of Fine Arts Boston as a guide (I can't download a decent image of it, so I'm afraid the link will have to do). I wasn’t looking to replicate it, just use it as inspiration. I decided over the winter that this would be one of my semester sewing projects, to work on during my desk shifts or during other down time.

Materials-wise, I used less that a quarter yard of the polyester fabric for the outside, roughly the same amount of white broadcloth from my stash, some white cotton thread, most of a yard of white spiral cording, and two white tassels (though i picked up six total, and may have lost one somewhere). For tools, I had scissors and needles, of course, and a small embroidery hoop and my awl.

I drafted a simple shape on graph paper to use as a “pattern,” based in part off the example bag, and scaled to make sure I could fit my hand through the opening. Once I had everything cut out (two in the blue and two in white for a lining), I sewed the lining up and used colored chalk to rough out the basic shapes of the embroidery on one of the blue panels.

Now, looking back, this was an ambitious bit of embroidery for someone who has never really embroidered before, but it would have been a boring project if I didn’t learn something! I used a chain stitch for the vines and stems, and everything else is bullion stitches, satin stitches, and some knots of some sort. I really love the texture the knots gave the bit in the middle!

The embroidery took me most of the semester, so it wasn’t until after I returned home (and unpacked) that I finished it. I ironed everything, sewed up the sides of the blue panels, added the cord and tassels into the seam, put in the lining (easier said than done - it took me awhile to figure out and now I’ve forgotten how I did it), and added the drawstring and casing.

Then I took lots of pretty pictures of it because it’s very pretty, and because I was terribly pleased with myself. It even matches with my copy of Sense & Sensibility, which I haven’t finished reading yet.

I’m hoping I have enough of the fabric left to make a spencer, but we’ll have to wait and see. In other Regency news, I’ll have a short post up soon about what I’ve affectionately dubbed my “portrait shawl,” and I’ll soon (hopefully) be re-remaking my chemise. I’d also like to draft (or pick out a pattern for) and mock up my quintessential white regency dress, so I may do a post on the research I’ve done, the patterns I’ve found, and what my plan for it is.

Stay warm, stay safe, stay dry.

[Image ID: the same blue and white bag as above pictured with white leather gloves and a copy of "Persuasion" with a blue patterned cover]

#wnn projects #regency era #regency sewing #regency wardrobe #regency reticule #wnn accessories

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ifiwereafish · 10 months

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Had an amazing first encounter with Zeus but I need advice ASAP

OKAY YESTERDAY I HAD THE CRAZIEST ENCOUNTER EVER.So it all started when someone posted on r/Hellenism about an encounter they had with Zeus, and I whispered "Praise be the mighty Zeus" (probably not my exact words but that's okay). Then I started thinking about starting to worship Him, because I haven't done so yet - I've only been worshiping Lord Poseidon and Lady Demeter (Blessed Be). A few minutes later, I found the subreddit r/Temple of Zeus and decided to join it. AS SOON AS I CLICKED "Join Subreddit", IT STARTED RAINING REALLY HARD. THEN IT STARTED TO THUNDER A LITTLE. I went down to eat dinner, and it was still raining. As I was eating, I noticed my back door was open, so I went to close it. I stood outside for a second and I whispered another short prayer to Zeus, along the lines of the first one I said (I can't remember it sorry). THEN IT THUNDERED AGAIN. And it keeps thundering as I finish eating. When I go upstairs, I feel a calling to do card pulling (card pulling is a type of divination exercise that can be used to talk to the Gods. it uses a standard card deck). Like, something was telling me, go to your magic table and do card pulling. So I did just that. I've attached a screenshot of my notebook with the answers (but the cards for question 5 were cut off. they were the 3 of diamonds and the 4 of diamonds). BTW it was thundering and raining throughout the whole exercise. As I finished asking question 4, I felt a zing on the end of my cheek, near my jawbone, which felt like a kiss. It also felt like a lightning bolt's zap. Then some private stuff happened that I don't feel comfortable sharing. But....wow. This whole experience was amazing and crazy and IDK what to do because like I mentioned before I have never prayed or connected to Zeus ever. So I really don't know what to do. Any advice is appreciated.

[Image ID: A notebook page with Card Pulling questions and their answers written on them. One miswritten question is crossed out and was replaced. The questions are: 1. Lord Zeus, are you trying to communicate with me? Black card = no red card = yes. The answer is black/no, and the card was the 2 of spades. 2. Is there something you are trying to tell me? Answer = red/yes, card = 2 of diamonds. 3. Are you trying to connect with me? Answer = yes/red and no/black, cards = Ace of Hearts, 8 of diamonds, 6 of diamonds, 8 of hearts, 6 of hearts, 4 of hearts, queen of hearts, king of hearts, 2 of hearts, king of diamonds, 3 of diamonds, 9 of spades, 5 of clubs, king of clubs, 4 of clubs, 5 of spades, ace of clubs, queen of spades, 4 of spades, ace of spades. 4. Do you want to court/godspouse me? Answer = yes, card = jack of hearts. 5. If I said yes, would I be able to date humans as well? I AM polyamorous. Answer = red, cards = 3 of diamonds, 4 of diamonds.]

#zeus worship #i need advice #hellenic polytheism #hellenism

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thebibliosphere · 4 years

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ADHD reward system? Please tell me your secret!

My therapist has been helping me find a reward system that works for me, and as it turns out, gold star stickers are really helpful for making me feel like a tangible goal was met, and helps give me that sweet, sweet dopamine release that comes with completing a task, something which us ADHD’ers really struggle to achieve and are already coming at from a disadvantage with our brains regularly not producing enough “happy” hormones as it is.

It was supposed to be “a sticker for every time you finish a chapter”, but after some revision, my therapist said that was too tall of a goal, and that I should pick something smaller. So instead I now get a star every time I finish a 500-word milestone, placing the sticker in my writing calendar/journal thing that I use to keep track of my writing, and ironically, I have started to produce more work than when I was stiving for one chapter a day.

To give you an idea of how staggeringly effective this has been for me, I’ve written over 30k of original fiction in the last week. (75k total if you include my social media and blog stuff, which I currently do not but likely should.)

So this is what it looked like when I was attempting to do a chapter of edits and revisions a day during the month of December 2019 (note: I was supposed to start this in Nov, so you can see how well that worked out for me lol):

ID: A calendar showing days of the month with a shiny star sticker showing a completed task.

And this is what my writing journal looks like now that I’m doing a star for every 500 words:

ID: an image of a handwritten journal with the dates mapped out, followed by a shiny star sticker for every completed 500-word milestone. There are 65 stars in total for the month of January 2020. It’s also tinged by a green light cause I’m doing a chronic pain experiment, so far with positive results!

So as of today, January 8th, with ever star = 500 words, then 65*500 = 32500 words totalled in 7 days. This does not include, like I said, my social media output where I am far more productive, this is just my fiction and some editing work for friends.

(Which side note: this is not to flex, or to say that others should be able to achieve this level of output. I am a professional writer, this is my main job and only source of income. And also, I was forged in the fires of understaffed editing hell where we would be expected to churn out 100k+ a week in edits and revisions to keep on track. I have the time and a learned skillset I have spent years amassing to be able to do this and am working towards a rigid deadline. I simply have not been healthy enough in a long time to manage it, and am finally working my way back up to speed after years of illness. Don’t look at this and think, “I’m not achieving enough”, every victory no matter how small is worth celebrating. And I say that with the utmost sincerity, as someone who spent most of the last 2-3 years unable to get out of bed.)

I’ve also started using it to help keep track of bills and chores around the home. So every time something gets done/done on time, whoever completed the task gets a star on the calendar. This includes Oppy the Not-A-Roomba, who does a very good job of taking care of the house on a daily basis:

ID: an image of a chore calendar denoting various tasks that have been marked off with a holographic silver star sticker, including our robot vacuum who does an excellent job and deserves all the stars. (Our names got blurred out cause ETD doesn’t want his real name out there in the world, so that’s what is blurry.)

This system is useful for several reasons, the primary one being a sense of achievement and continued motivation, and the second, to allow you to review each month to see where you are doing well, and where you might otherwise be struggling.

For example, if I have a bad day for writing or decide to take a day off, I write that down in the calendar rather than leaving it blank, so that I have a record of what went wrong (or right, if I am electing to self care that day and take a day off) and how my overall progress is doing.

In terms of house stuff, this has been especially useful for ETD and myself, as it shows us where we are managing to do a good job with the house, and where our executive dysnfunction issues really trip us up and where we need to make improvements. And I don’t just mean in an “I should try harder way”, I mean you have to actively sit down and be like “hey! What is preventing me from completing this thing” and trying to figure out effective ways to either get around it or resolve a larger issue at hand.

So for us, the biggest thing we tend to miss is doing dishes after dinner, meaning we get left with a pile-up of dishes to deal with first thing in the morning, and my ADHD can’t handle that. It won’t let me eat until I’ve cleared all the mess, but I usually don’t have the energy to clean up if I haven’t eaten, so it’s this awful cycle of ineptitude. We’re doing better with the star reward system, cause it’s showing us our progress loud and clear on the fridge door, but we are both usually so fatigued and exhausted by the end of dinner that doing dishes is just one thing too many for our mutual disorders. So, the solution for this would, of course, be a dishwasher, cause if we had one of those, we could load stuff in, turn it on, and let those dishes get done while we go to bed then put them away in the morning. We can’t afford to do that right now, and we have other appliances we need to buy/replace before we can do that (still don’t have a tumble dryer, or a washer I can access, rip) but it does give us a tangible goal to work toward, and also, the motivation to keep on top of things because it goes from “an endless task with no end in sight” to “there’s a solution for this, we can manage a while longer.”

Now you could be saying, but Joy, I’m an adult! Surely I shouldn’t expect rewards for completing every day tasks that I should be able to do?!

To which I say, neurotypical people get rewards all the time and get an unconscious dose of dopamine/serotonin from their brains every time they complete a task. They’re playing the game of life on easy mode, the gold star is your achievement for completing it daily on Nintendo 99 hard mode. IF THE STICKER WORKS, TAKE THE STICKER

YOU’VE EARNED IT.

#kaitokenji37 #adhd #adult adhd #adhd reward system #life hacks #adhd hacks #personal #okay to reblog

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brywrites · 3 years

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Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand. You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,” she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

Tags: @calm-and-doctor @averyhotchner

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #prison reid #prison!reid

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an-exotic-writer · 3 years

Text

jungkook; ready to love (you, officially)

❝you asked: “what happens when i want to be more than friends?” / jungkook said, when that day comes, you grab him by the face and kiss the life out of him. that day came. ►2440 words // scenario, continuation of ‘when you’re ready to love’ written for @astaegmatism ♡ well, i read this the other day and ya know, i just felt like writing a sequel to this so here it goes *finger guns* // i actually finished it lol, here it is if anyone wants to read! ;w;

Ever since that day at the rooftop with Jungkook, not a day goes by since that you haven’t thought about that incident. It replays at random moments without you knowing. Well, maybe subconsciously you’re constantly thinking about it but that’s not fair. How are you supposed to control something you’re not meant to?

Maybe you deserve it, you think to yourself. Jungkook has made it clear that he’s interested in you and it’s not like you’re not interested in him. You are! Saying that you’re interested in him would be an understatement and yet... it’s been three months and you haven’t made up your mind.

What confuses you even more?

It’s how Jungkook doesn’t pressure you into anything. Sure, he teases you every now and then but you know he’s not genuinely pressing or rushing you for an answer or a change of heart. He’s... gentle, with the way he handles the conversation when you bring it up (because it gets overwhelming when you think about it at night and Jungkook-)

“...you’ve gone pretty quiet, Y/N,” Jungkook muses over the phone and you now remember that you were on a phone call with the guy. There’s no point hiding it, because Jungkook can tell how you’re feeling (sometimes) just by hearing your breathing pattern. How it starts to tremble with each exhale, unknowingly Jungkook has learnt it meant you were anxious about something.

“Y-Yeah, I’m just... thinking,” Your voice is shaking and you’re certain your hands would be too if you were holding your phone to your ear but luckily, you’re lying on the bed and your phone is on speaker beside your ear. Almost, you feel like it would be nice if he was laying here with you. And just at that thought, it makes you wonder if... if you’re finally ready to be more than just friends with the boy who upon first meeting, squished a portion of cake to your cheeks as a friendly way of trying to call you sweet. (don’t remind Jungkook, he still feels bad at almost traumatizing you when you first met)

“About?”

Here comes one of the many things Jungkook adores about you. Straight to the point, no sugar-coating and no bush in sight to beat around. Well, it’s usually polar opposites. Either you would beat the bush to death and the generations after that, or you go straight to the point and snap the leaf to write your answer directly.

“...you,”

This was the latter.

"What about me?” Jungkook tries to sound collected, but based on how his voice pitches, you can tell he’s getting nervous.

“I... I’m just confused. I know I really like you,”—Jungkook’s heart skip a beat—“but a part of me still feels like I’m not ready and I feel bad because I don’t want you to keep wait-”

"You’re not keeping me waiting, Y/N,” Jungkook cuts you off before you spiral off into a monologue that doesn’t need to happen, which is why he’s cutting you off now. (He usually waits to hear you out but he’s skipping past that because he’s heard this before so he might as well reassure you now)

He hears a gasp because you’re surprised, and he knows you are but you keep silent to hear his train of thought.

“I’m simply in love with you and... I can feel that you feel the same way too. If the day comes when you’re ready to reciprocate that openly, I’m more than willing to be with you. It’s not like things would change between us, we’re just going to get mushier—is mushier a word? Ah, whatever,”

There’s a small pause of silence, it evokes Jungkook to ask: “You there?”

“...how is that not waiting for me, Jeon?”

He chuckles at the confusion in your voice. He has this image of you furrowing your brows and having puffed up cheeks from being confused.

Here you lie in bed, with furrowed brows and puffed cheeks.

“Because I know I’m already in your heart, it’s just going to take some time before you get comfortable with me being there, and hopefully accept that… or not, that’s all up to you,”

“How do you know you’re in my heart?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“N-Nope, ’m good.”

Jungkook didn’t know if he helped you or not that night, but based on how you didn’t say anything to combat that, he finds comfort in knowing at least he’s somewhat right.

You slept with ease that night.

The days after that have been... more confusing than you thought. It confused you so much that the more you thought about it, the more it pissed you off. What the fuck is going on?

Trudging out of bed, you find yourself standing in front of your reflection. Next to it is a photo of you and Jungkook, not even aware that a friend was capturing a moment the two of you shared. The longer you stared at it, the more it reminded you of why you were mad in the first place.

Mad at… yourself!

With a newfound confidence that struck out of nowhere, it was time.

Fucking hell was it time.

You can’t handle it any longer and you’re done trying to make up your mind or settle for an answer that leaves you wavering the next day.

It was time to observe.

To be Detective Conan—alright screw Jungkook’s references.

You spent a week keeping your distance from Jungkook.

Okay, that sounds serious but by keeping your distance, it was rather… taking note of how your mind reacted around him. Of course, it was easier said than done when the boy is constantly trying to be close to you, pick at your brain, “casually” hold your bag for you and running off so you’d chase him up to the rooftop where you’d conveniently waste two hours of staring at the abyss of the world alongside him.

Boy oh boy did you take mental notes, and when you typed them out for yourself to read through at the end of the week, it was clear that—“That piece of shit…”

For two weeks, you had wrote down thoughts you’ve had of him and let’s just say… they accumulated to more than your notepad on your phone could handle because you’re scrolling, and scrolling and scrolling. As you go through them, the recollection flashes in your mind, playing like a projector.

Jeon likes to drink Americano from this café.

He bought the bouquet of flowers for graduation from this florist.

We got caught in the rain and was stuck in that phonebooth for an hour because we’re both too stubborn to get out.

Jeon’s fave café.

Jeon’s fave park to go jogging.

Jeon—

The list continues, listing all the details about him and more details about him that… strangely enough, you’ve never noticed you remembered. And… the more you seem to remember, the more… memories you want to create with him. It hits you why it’s… it’s taken you this long to realise your infatuation with him. Jungkook was that slow burn that made you love him more and more each day without you realizing. How you wanted to see him each day, and when a day goes by without seeing him, it aches for you to be without him.

Jungkook was right when he said he was already in your heart.

You didn’t know when, and you didn’t know how but… he was already there. He made his way through when you didn’t expect him to. He’s been patient and sincere with his presence and… the way he genuinely just wants what’s best for you. He… you… you like him.

You… fell in love with your best friend, too.

Jungkook smiles when he sees your name on his caller ID. He grips onto his phone properly to swipe across the screen, just to say: “What do I owe the pleasure, Y/N?”

“Jeon, wherever you are,” It sounds like you’re breathing really heavily, “Don’t move,”

His brows furrow, “Is everything alright? You good?”

“I’ll come to you!” You exclaim, and he’s laughing. “Do you know where I am?”

He snorts.

“Oh yeah,” Now it sounds like you’ve stopped walking when the soles of your shoes screech on the pavement ever so lightly, “Where are you by the way?”

“Jeon!” Your voice echoes across the field, penetrating straight into his ears as he whips around, only to grin like a fool. His eyes form mini crescents at the sight of you running up to him. He holds his arms out to stable you when you’re within reach. His hands grip onto your sides with a soft easy there tiger and when you’re grounded in front of him, trying to catch your breath, his smile only grows bigger.

“What’s up?”

Your fists clench by your sides, feeling your insides tumble about. Thousands of butterflies are probably somersaulting in there and the whole zoo has come to watch how your nerves jolt about in anticipation to what you’re about to do. You’ve had only this thought in your mind through your whole journey to reach him. Now that you’re finally in front of him, you’re trying to psyche yourself up.

Almost as if you’re trying to be your own hype man to… to…

“Hello? Earth to Miss—”

“I’m going to do something to you, Jeon,” You swallow the lump in your throat, and this is where Jungkook’s smile slowly fades. His face morphs into one of confusion instead.

“G-Good or bad?”

Okay, this is throwing you off a little.

“What’d you mean?”

“Well… what you’re going to do to me, is it good or bad? Do I need to cover up somewhere it really hurts?”

The both of you trail down to… his nether region where his hands slowly move to cover it (because there has been a history of you kicking him with not-so-ladylike strength that one time he took a prank too far and he owns up to say he deserves it—not that he’s done anything this time, he’s just being cautious).

“What? N-No!” You’re frustrated at this point, running your fingers through your hair in annoyance, but you know what? It’s working. Your nerves are worked up enough for you to gather the courage brewing in your guts that you close the distance between the pair of you.

Suddenly, it feels like the world slows down.

Your hands rest upon his shoulders and instinctively, Jungkook’s hands dart out to steady you by your waist, afraid you’d topple over and get hurt. His eyes widen when you lean in to press your lips together. Your name is muttered against your lips, drowned out by the gasp that follows soon after from him.

His hands, clutches onto you tight—as tight as your hands are on his shoulders. Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, in unison with yours. Your body tenses when you don’t feel a reaction, and that gets you to peel your eyes open and break away from the kiss. That triggers him to act upon his feelings for once, after holding back for the longest time, this is the one-time Jungkook allows himself to do what he wants.

He snakes his arms around your waist to pull you closer, making your breath hitch. He chases for your lips and he kisses you back. He kisses you with everything he has in fear this could be the first, and last time it would happen. He feels his heart burst into warmth when your hands move to circle around his neck to pull him close, as if the both of you weren’t already. You feel his tongue brush against yours ever-so-delicately and the vibrations of his lips when your fingers rake through his hair.

He intends to continue, but you have yet to say what you’ve been wanting to that you gently nudge him back with a hand on his chest, the other still hooked around his shoulders.

“J-Jeon, I have something to say,” You’re a little breathless, disorganized, but altogether too beautiful for him to handle with your slightly red, plump lips and hazy eyes looking into his own. He chuckles and cups your chin gently, brushing your lower lip with his thumb as his other hand keeps you rooted.

“Yeah?”

“I… I like you,”

Jungkook chuckles, softly, almost whispering as he breathes out: “I like you too,”

He licks his lips and his eyes trail down to yours, before gazing back up to your eyes when he has a feeling there’s more you’re about to say. His thumb gently rubs circles against your hip bone, while his other hand that was previously on your chin, moves to join his other arm around your waist.

“And…” You heave out a deep breath, blinking up to him, “I-I want to be more than just friends,”

Jungkook knows where this is going, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to have fun.

“So… best friends?”

Instantly your face turns upside down with frustration and Jungkook quickly pacifies you with a kiss. And a couple more pecks to bring a smile to your face, mirroring his own smile before he tugs you into his arms. His arms band around you so tight, it feels like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. He presses a small kiss to your temple, whispering, “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that,”

You’re grinning against his chest, arms wrapping around him just as tight.

“So… we’re…”

He strokes your head gently, closing his eyes to savor this moment.

“We’re still best friends,” He says, “Best friends who like each other a lot but this time,” You lean back a little, just to look up to him looking down on you,

“T-This time?” Your voice is soft, so soft that it’s only for his ears only. That alone, makes Jungkook’s heart do a lot of things in a heartbeat.

“This time, from this day onwards, you’re also my girlfriend.”

((“jeon…?”

“hm?” he turns his gaze from the sky the both of you have been laying under, gazing into your eyes as he plays with your hair.

“’m sorry it took me so long,”

he tuts with the shaking of his head, darting over to give you a long kiss to your lips.

“don’t be, don’t ever say that. it’s my fault for falling so quickly for you,” he wiggles his brows and you try to push him away, only for him to reel you in closer.))

#bangtan bookclub #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #holy shit i actually finished this hahaha #ok #goodbye

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fatefulfaerie · 3 years

Text

Once Upon A Time

Long one shot under the cut. Every once in a while I obsess over Gelato (Roman x Neo) so...yeah...

Spoilers for RWBY: Roman Holiday (read it if you haven’t it’s so good!!)

He didn’t know how to treat it like anything but a heist.

Roman had definitely kissed a girl before, Bleu Berry at the orphanage when he was twelve, Crimsen Blank when he was fifteen, Verd Webster when he was seventeen, and then of course the off and on thing with Chameleon while he worked for Lil’ Miss.

But something about kissing Neo was special, something not to be messed up or done lightly like every other young woman he had kissed. He had to do it right.

It had seemed like a lifetime ago since Roman had planned a heist without Neo, and he found himself at a loss because of it. She really was the brains of their partnership...and the brawn…

Why was he even here?

Neo gave him a distinct look. She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry.”

He was staring again, at her instead of the television. His cover story was that he stared into space when he was really tired.

Lie.

It was really him taking glances from under her nose, like pickpocketing a stranger’s wallet.

Steal.

Cheat.

Survive

Love.

When did that get in there?

Normally when they sat down together to watch the large, holographic screen that emitted from Neo’s facedown scroll -- Roman still hadn’t gotten his hands on a new scroll. He was perfectly able to steal one of course, especially since the Vale City Mall had the most pathetic security. He just kept straight up forgetting -- they were watching themselves on TV, laughing about the coverage of their recent ridiculous robbery and eating spicy hot wings from the Cuckoo Crazy Chicken Shack.

This was the first time that Roman was thinking about someone else while watching his own name flash across the screen.

He was catching feelings for her, and there was no doubt about it. He had been catching feelings ever since she saved his life in the alley where she first showed off her semblance, and then more and more as they spent time together.

Roman pinpointed the moment she showed him the fabulous outfit she had made for him as that oh moment that you read about in romance novels.

Not that he read. He accidentally stole a book once. Once. Neo was the reader. He could hardly summon the patience. When Neo gave him a book to read, he skipped to the end. Roman didn’t see the point in all the rest.

But for some reason with this conundrum, this real-life conundrum, he couldn’t bring himself to skip to the end, to just kiss her like it meant just as much as any other kiss.

He tried to plan it like a heist, watching Neo, memorizing her routine, figuring the best moment of the day to perform the act, but it didn’t work. Neo was too unpredictable. She wasn’t like a bank or a warehouse that had their security guards on the same schedule every day. Her chaos was part of her charm, always doing the unexpected, but Roman was absolutely lost as to when he should make his move, if at all. They had a good thing going here, after all, and for all he knew he could kiss her one second and be knocked out cold the next.

Roman felt a slap on his shoulder and he looked over.

What the hell?

Neo was mute yet Roman could hear her say it. She must have been doing airplane arms before she slapped him.

She pointed at him and then her right ear, her forehead creased with inquisition.

“No, I am not going deaf,” Roman said.

She must have been clapping and snapping to get his attention.

“I’m just thinking,” he explained, the words spilling out just as he realized he might have to come up with an answer for what he was thinking.

But Neo nodded in understanding. What a wonderful human being. She mimed sleep, resting her head on hands that touched palms.

“Yeah,” Roman agreed. “Sleep. Good idea.”

Since his fancy condo was ambushed by Lil’ Miss, the two partners in crime had settled in an abandoned building that had gone from being a restaurant to a convenience store to a nail salon in the span of three months, before being abandoned for a year now. This street was a terrible place for an above-board business and even the Vale Government had let it rot, too small and inconsequential to be made into a factory or a warehouse of any sort.

Neo and Roman found it a week after the skirmish at the Vanille mansion. It was dilapidated and falling apart but it was only as broken as each of them were before they found each other. They quickly saw it as home.

So Roman stood up in order to head towards his bedroll in the corner. Neo watched him with a suspicious eye.

“Now that we’ve done as much damage as we could with the information from Mr. Vanille’s computer…”

Neo had already noticed that Roman never referred to the late Jimmy Vanille as her dad. Biologically he was her dad but he never treated her like a daughter.

“We may as well start on this dust business,” he continued. “Dust Till Dawn seems like the easiest target to me but I’d rather start bigger, something more fun.”

He turned around in case Neo had anything to add but she only stood up and paced towards him, using her semblance to change into Roman Torchwick himself. Roman looked at the mirrored version of himself as Neo made fun of the way he had been acting, staring with a blank expression, losing his train of thought. She then changed back into herself and shrugged her shoulders with her hands up as if to ask him why.

“I…I don’t know.”

He stammered. He rarely stammered.

She crossed her hands over her heart, then offered her hands to him. He knew what that meant.

Can I help?

She was always so thoughtful.

“It, umm…”

He had to be confident about this, he absolutely had to. He was Roman Torchwick, after all, the fabulous, the famous. He was fearless. He was clever and could get any girl he wanted, even the best of the best that stood in front of him. He could do this.

“Roman Torchwick this is the VPD,” a voice bellowed. Roman closed and opened his eyes.

“Why is it never you?” He asked Neo quietly, who was smirking. She stuck out her tongue.

“Come out with your hands up,” the loud voice continued. “We’ve got you surrounded.”

Neo turned back into Roman.

“Meet you at Forever Fall?” He asked.

Neo nodded and ran off to get caught by the police. Roman pocketed Neo’s scroll and grabbed Melodic Cudger and Hush, the two hooks of which clinked in his grasp.

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Torchwick,” he heard as he was halfway out the window in the back. Roman froze and listened. He dared to let his vanity doom him. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t do you justice.”

Roman turned his head.

What was that supposed to mean?

He could see the scene barely, through a gap in one of the distant boarded windows. Neo, in his image of course, stood with her hands in surrender.

“A volatile jokester,” the policeman continued, circling around Neo. “Always has something to remark. Doesn’t seem to want to shut up.” He stopped his spherical pacing and turned on his heel. “Do you know where I got these phrases?”

Neo shook her head.

“Vale Police Department records,” he said. “It’s how they describe you, and it’s how I know you aren’t really in front of me right now, are you Torchwick?”

He felt the panic in his heart, he tried to slip out the window but his forehead met a gun as it cocked with a click.

Their strategy had worked twice already, a disguised Neo getting arrested as Roman fled to a rendezvous location. Neo would use her semblance to escape captivity easily and they would have cheated the system. But it seems the police caught on.

Roman was almost impressed as he bumped shoulders with Neo in the back of the cop car, their weapons confiscated and Neo’s scroll slammed in half by the heel of one of the officers. Their hands were literally tied and Roman might have found a way to fight his way out of this but hey, he had never seen the interior of the Vale Police Department before. He figured it was time for a grand tour of the rathole’s rat hole.

“What’s that?” were the next words out of his mouth twenty minutes later. The VPD building was disappointing. Roman regretted wanting a look inside within a couple steps.

“Semblance inhibitor,” the officer replied, latching a second pair of handcuffs onto Neo’s wrists and only Neo’s wrists. “New tech from Atlas. It drains aura.”

Neo looked at Roman with a flash of panic in her eyes. She was always so confident in her chaos that it was a rare sight to see her scared.

“It’s okay,” he managed softly.

“We’re submitting her for questioning,” the officer continued, nearly interrupted as if Roman hadn’t said anything. “And we’re sending you back to Mistral. Lil’ Miss will be elated to learn that you are alive.”

They began to pull them away along two different hallways.

“No,” Roman said, struggling. “No!”

He lurched for Neo with all his might and caught her lips. That one moment of vulnerability where she tried to keep him with her cost him his better sense as he was very nearly yanked away, only seeing Neo’s face in shock.

“She’s mute, you idiots!” Neo heard Roman exclaim. “She couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. You lay a hand on her and so help me gods I’ll--”

A door slammed shut. Neo didn’t get to hear that last bit.

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

Trivia Vanille a.k.a. “Neopolitan”

Height: 4’10”

Age: 19

Prisoner ID Number: 827338

It was the first time in several years that she genuinely smiled in a picture, and it was a mugshot. Although she could see in her file the name that was dead to her, they referred to her verbally only as Neopolitan. The respect made Neo over the moon with happiness, made her almost forget her concern to get out of this without her semblance. The lock on her normal handcuffs were simple enough to pick once she was left alone but the one that shone blue and drained her energy even now would take a bit more creativity.

Roman Torchwick

Height: 5’11”

Age: 27

Prisoner ID Number: 827299

How many times did he have to tell them? He was six foot three. Six. Feet. Three. Inches. They never listened to him and it bothered him that it was on his permanent record that he didn’t measure up to at least six feet. For goodness sake, he was a celebrity. Any dunce on the street knows that he has orange hair, a white jacket, a grey scarf tied around his neck, and dashing emerald eyes. Everyone knows that he gave himself the birthday of October 31st (the mother who abandoned him at the orphanage didn’t care to specify the day that he had an excuse to steal cake) and that he was six foot three. It was on his mugshot and everything. He pleaded until he had two hands on the bars of his temporary holding cell. He was on his knees.

“Lights out.”

He sighed.

“Fine.”

He heard a foot stomp behind him. His cellmate was standing against the barred window that let in only streaks of moonlight, only fractions of nightlife and remnants of an already crumbled world.

He was a quite heavyset man and Roman’s heart skipped a beat. Roman was good in a fight but he wasn’t sure about these odds as he slowly stood up. This guy looked to have the strength of ten men and his arms were crossed.

Descending pink triangles dispelled the illusion and Roman choked a sigh of relief when the burly man turned into the small silhouette of Neo herself. Her hip cocked to the side and Roman knew, although he couldn’t see it, that she was smirking.

Roman rushed forth and hugged her, embraced her desperately like he never had before. He must have really thought they weren’t getting out of this one together.

“How?” he asked when they separated, his eyes searching her moonlit face.

Neo mimed picking a lock but then shook her head. She then mimed smashing her heel into an invisible pair of handcuffs between her two wrists and gave Roman a thumbs up.

“Good to know Atlas technology goes so fancy on design that brute force is the solution to breaking it. Would you like to pick the cell lock or shall I?”

Neo nodded and skipped to do just that, as if that were the easy part. Neo plucked pins from her mess of brown and pink hair and got to work kneeling before the lock and snaking her arms around the other side of the bars. Roman leaned on the bedpost and ignored his actual cellmate, the actual burly, wideset man who was knocked out on the bottom bunk and had a gnarly bruise the resembled Neo’s heeled boots across his face.

“About earlier, I…” Roman hesitated. “I guess I just wanted to apologize if I took you by surprise. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do, don’t get me wrong, I just…”

After several clicks, the door swung open and Neo turned around to face Roman, approaching him. Roman wondered if she had even heard him until she grasped his tied gray scarf and pulled him into her lips. It was all the answer Roman needed as they explored each other’s mouths, Neo slowly backing up and Roman chasing her, walking forward. When she let loose his lips they were out of the cell. She smiled. Roman was absolutely smitten.

She turned into a security guard, one they had seen earlier and she took his hand, Roman giggling under his breath as they fled from the Vale Police Department and into the wild night they had claimed as their own.

The memory became foggy, as it always did. It turned into a million other nights of chaos with him, all melding into a single lifetime that was now deceased. Trivia Vanille once died in the burning rubble of the Vanille Estate and left Neopolitan in her stead, but the moment Neo saw a blinding “X” over Roman’s aura gage a different Neopolitan had emerged. This one wasn’t languishing in her new sense of identity, wasn’t happy beyond belief in her friendship with this Torchwick guy. No, this Neopolitan was in pain, deep soulful, cutthroat, bleeding pain. When she threw a parasol and made her dad bleed she felt nothing. When her parents died because of the dust her dad harbored, she felt free. But when Roman died, she felt grief for the very first time, felt loss and lost in this world that didn’t understand her, would never understand her like he did.

Neo blinked her eyes open.

She liked when her dreams dipped into her memories up until the point where she woke up, where reality reminded her what was past and what was present.

It smelled like blood here. Neo had started to wonder if this is what it was like to be in the womb, gestating, trapped, waiting to be reborn in Salem’s image. The thought made Neo gag. This was the last place she wanted to be, seen as a mere chess piece in Salem’s game. She grew up as a chess piece that had been discarded, then used, then discarded again, like a dirty towel her parents kept forgetting about. What once liberated her was her newfound knowledge that her decisions could be her own but now she was CInder’s helper? beneficiary?

She would have to stomach it until Cinder upheld her end of the deal and got her to Ruby Rose.

Neo pushed against the bed she was assigned and sat up, although she would use the term bed extremely loosely. It was a hunk of red rock and the small room looked like the maw of a Grimm more than anything else. Neo would quantify it to a torture chamber if there wasn’t a small young man literally being tortured a few rooms over. She at least had it better off than him, but that didn’t say much.

Neo steadied her breath and closed her eyes. She thought of him, not the boy who screamed in anguish down the hallway but him. Roman. She thought of his brown, leather slip-on shoes and how much he hated the hassle of tying laces. She thought of his dark grey pants and how they collected around his ankles. She thought of his white coat and remembered tailoring it to his size, remembered thinking of the moment she would surprise him with it. She remembered his gloves and how it felt to be held by those hands. She remember his grey scarf and tried not to think about how it was on her neck instead of his. She tried to think of his piercing green eyes and his pumpkin orange hair, his bowler hat that had a red ribbon and a grey feather. She tried to remember his voice.

She opened her eyes and stood up slowly, pacing towards the illusion she had created, feeling tears sting in her eyes, feeling her heart beat with relief she tried to subdue.

“Neo,” he said softly.

She bawled, tears streaming down her face. She took the hat off her head and put it on her doll. She cupped his face with her hands and found herself missing having to go on her tippy toes like this.

Neo thought she could hold the illusion long enough to at least hug him, to at least derive some comfort from her memories and what her semblance was able to do with them. Yet, the illusion just as soon shattered, crumbling into shards of glass. Neo’s gasp was shaky as she looked down into her palms. Her breaths matched no rhythm and her soul bled as if she had lost him all over again. She looked up.

Cinder.

Her lip quivered. Neo couldn’t help it. Her brow furrowed in anger despite her sadness. The pink and the brown were like flames. And yet Cinder couldn’t even see her hate. No one could see anything of her.

“Salem wants everyone on the bridge,” Cinder said. “Welcome to reality.”

She walked off without a care and Neo fell to her knees, gathering the glass shards. She seethed with anger as she held them delicately in her hands. Her panting increased as balled her hands into fists, not caring in the slightest the sharp pain in her palms or the blood staining her white gloves.

She made a silent promise to Roman then, not to live for herself like she once did but to survive long enough to give Ruby Rose everything she deserved.

#gelato #neo x roman #roman holiday #rwby roman holiday #rwby #rwby fanfiction #roman torchwick #neopolitan #trivia vanille #neo my beloved #am I ec Myers yet?

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bluerose5 · 3 years

Text

First Impressions (Part 1)

Word Count: 1,726

Rated T (Warnings for Swearing, Canon-Typical Violence)

Summary: What if, after receiving that call from Garrus while he was pinned down on Omega, Castis tries to track him down?

"Are you sure it was him?"

"I'm sure." Alec's smile turned mocking, the vitriol directed more towards himself. "I'm no Shadow Broker, but I still have my list of contacts here on the Citadel, even if it's dwindling by the seconds."

"Alec—"

"I don't need your pity, Castis." His smile fell, a subtle frown curling at the edges of his lips. "Besides, I'm doing this as a favor for a friend. Father to father. You know how it is."

"Yeah," Castis Vakarian sighed, "so I do."

It had been quite some time since the elder Vakarian graced the Citadel with his presence, but ever since he received that call...

"You finish up what you have to do there, and then you come on home to Palaven. We have a lot to sort out."

Even now, the echoes of gunfire rang in his ears, but not as much as the resignation in Garrus’s voice.

"Target practice," Garrus had called it.

As if an experienced C-Sec officer with common sense couldn't tell the difference between target practice and an all-out gunfight.

Even now, Castis's chest tightened.

The thought of losing Garrus now, especially when his mother's condition wasn't showing any signs of improvement—

Castis couldn't stand the thought. He couldn't lose both his wife and his son all at once.

When Garrus never reported back, he had to do something. After he spoke with some old friends on the Citadel, Alec Ryder put out some feelers of his own at his friend's request. For a while, there was nothing.

Then, they got a hit.

The Normandy SR-2, arriving to the Citadel from Omega. A ship flagged by Citadel Control's security algorithms for having alleged ties to the pro-human extremist group known only as Cerberus.

It was under the command of no other than Commander Shepard.

Why was Castis not surprised?

Between his and Alec's contacts, they had been able to discern that there were indeed aliens listed as part of the ship’s crew. A surprising move, given the organization's history, but Castis was far from calling them friends. Just because they expanded recruitment beyond their own species did not make them allies.

Add in a Spectre miraculously back from the dead, and the whole situation reeked of trouble.

Alec agreed, so they approached the matter with caution.

Thankfully, Solana understood when Castis had to drop everything and go. All that she asked was that he return home with the knowledge that Garrus was safe. That's it.

Of course, that wasn't enough to satisfy him.

Castis knew that Garrus was alive now, but that wasn't enough.

The next time he and Alec were pinged, they received intel stating that Garrus was spotted poking around the shipping sector of Zakera Ward with Commander Shepard, seeking out a notorious forger. For what? Spirits only knew.

The only other info that they had was that there was a drell and a quarian accompanying them as well.

While they awaited positive IDs on those two, they continued following Garrus’s trail, questioning the loose-lipped volus who was more than happy to give up Fade's position after his lousy bodyguards wandered off for a break.

Eventually, they were led to Harkin's position. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out that Garrus had already been there, what with the trail of bodies and mechs they left in their wake.

Seeing Harkin curled up on the floor, the bastard took one look up at them, then swore under his breath.

"Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me," he spat. "First your son, and now you? Haven't you Vakarians done enough?"

"Heh," Alec chuckled. "We're just getting started, tough guy."

Tapping at his omni-tool, Castis sent out an alert. While he dealt with Harkin, Alec approached the open console nearby, downloading all of its content, including the most recent call to a client.

"Have fun explaining yourself to C-Sec, Harkin, or is it Fade now?" Castis paused, crossing his arms over his chest as he peered down at him. "You can't resist making a fool of yourself for even a second, can you?"

"Hot take, coming from you." Harkin sneered. "You can't even keep that hot-headed son of yours on a leash. Bet C-Sec was glad to finally have his insubordinate ass off the force."

Castis saw red.

He took a step forward, but Alec's hand came down onto his shoulder, stopping him in his path.

"He's not worth it," Alec reminded him gently. As C-Sec swarmed the area, Alec jerked his chin in the direction of the door. "Come on. Let’s go find him before it's too late."

They strolled out together, heads ducked close and voices kept low.

"Did you find anything?" Castis asked.

"More than enough," Alec assured him. "Garrus is looking for a turian by the name of Lantar Sidonis."

"Can't say I've heard of him."

"Hmm..." Alec hummed thoughtfully to himself. "There was a location sent to set up a meeting. Orbital Lounge."

"Good work," Castis said, but Alec shrugged off the praise. "Let's go."

They stopped to make a quick change in a clothing store along the way. They got dressed in casual attire, posing as a couple of friends enjoying the sights.

By the time they made it to the lounge, Castis was already getting antsy. He struggled to maintain his cover, his eyes darting this way and that.

Alec elbowed him in the side.

"Calm down," he warned. He turned towards a random window display to glance over the selection of model ships. "Maintenance walkway above. Over your shoulder and to the right."

Castis snuck a peek as soon as he had the chance to.

He felt all of the blood drain from his face.

Turning quickly back towards the display, he hissed under his breath, "He has a rifle."

Alec shushed him before they could attract too much attention.

"I know, but do we really want to announce that little fact to the entire plaza?!" he whispered frantically.

Right.

Taking a deep breath, Castis composed himself. Usually, he wasn't this bad at remaining undercover, but the stakes were too high —too personal— to ignore.

It was hard to remain calm when your son was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

Killing in a public place...

What happened to make him fall so far?

"I spotted someone up there with him," Alec said, breaking Castis of his reverie. "Shepard, maybe?"

Looking around at the crowd, Castis shook his head a moment later.

"No, not Shepard. Look. To your left."

Alec followed his line of sight, then ducked his head back down.

"Her, the quarian, and I'm assuming that's Sidonis," Alec said, counting them off one by one. "Which means that might be the drell up top with Garrus. A lookout, perhaps?"

"Hmph."

That was when Castis noticed the spotting laser.

His pupils narrowed into thin slits.

"No."

Alec stopped him again, stepping out in front of him with his hands spread wide.

"Wait, wait, wait," he ordered. "Let's see how this plays out first."

Castis turned on him with a glare.

"My son is about to commit a murder in plain sight, and you want me to wait?" he snapped.

"I want you to think clearly," Alec corrected. "Take another look at who the spotting laser is trained on."

Staring him down, Castis huffed impatiently, but quickly complied. They couldn’t afford to be stuck at an impasse at such a crucial moment.

One look was enough to clear up the image that had been blurred by emotion.

What in the—

"No." Castis shook his head in disbelief, but that didn't change what he was witnessing. "No, Garrus is too fond of the Commander. He wouldn't hurt her."

The conviction with which he spoke surprised even himself, but Garrus's attachment to Shepard was undeniable, as much as he was loath to admit it.

Even then, he couldn’t deny what was right there in front of him. The spotting laser was focused on the back of Commander Shepard’s skull, clear as day.

However, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

When Sidonis moved, Garrus followed him, but the Commander was instantly there to block his opening.

There were a few tense moments where words were exchanged, far too quiet to hear from where Alec and Castis were positioned. They went back and forth for a bit, and Castis admittedly feared for the worst when both Shepard and Sidonis started to leave.

The second Garrus had a clear shot at Sidonis, Castis held his breath.

But the shot never came.

"Well," Alec muttered, "that was anticlimactic."

Castis glared and punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"That's my son, Ryder."

With a grumble, Castis dragged Alec along. Their hunt wasn't over yet.

"You should meet mine. I feel like if Scott would've let him go, then he would have somehow managed to pull the trigger by accident. A real stroke of bad luck, that one."

"Spirits."

Strolling through the crowds, they laid low for as long as they could.

By the time they found Garrus again, he was talking with the others by a skycar terminal, presumably waiting on a cab.

A whole flood of emotions came crashing down on Castis at once, and there was no holding back. Not anymore.

Ignoring Alec's warnings not to do anything rash, Castis stormed off in their direction.

Insane how, after so many years of being friends, the N7 was only choosing now to try to be the voice of reason when Castis wanted to be anything but.

Out of everyone, the drell noticed him first, regarding him with suspicion.

Before he could warn him, Castis called out, "Garrus!"

The other three instantly froze, right before they turned to face him.

Garrus’s eyes widened, his mandibles falling slack as he gaped.

"Dad?"

"'Dad?!'" Shepard and the quarian echoed, shocked by such an unexpected turn of events.

The drell, on the other hand, didn't seem the least bit perturbed.

"Ah, his father," he hummed, nodding in understanding. "Your presence in the lounge makes sense now."

Alec's brow furrowed.

"Hold up, you knew we were there?" he asked skeptically.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call you two 'subtle.'"

"That doesn't matter!" Castis snapped.

Clenching his jaw, his mandibles were clamped down tight.

Time to get this meeting back on track.

"Garrus, we need to talk."

#mass effect trilogy #mass effect 2 #mass effect legendary edition #castis vakarian #alec ryder #garrus vakarian #commander shepard #femshep #thane krios #tali zora vas normandy #shakarios #polyamorous aliens #my writing #my fanfic

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aroclawthornes · 3 years

Text

Blooming Brilliant, an Aroace Willow Park Manifesto

[id: a gif of a heart locket opening. One half of the locket displays a picture of Willow Park from The Owl House, winking and making peace signs with her fingers. Blue and yellow stars surround her. The other half reads "willow park my beloved." /end id.]

Greetings! It’s me, User Aroclawthornes, and instead of working on all the time-sensitive homework I have I sat down and wrote an essay explaining why I think Willow Park OwlHouse could plausibly be read as aroace, and why it would be a thematically enriching interpretation. I’ve never written anything like this before, so it’s oddly formal, a little pretentious, and contains a lot of qualifying language, but I'm confident that it gets my point across. I’m not intending to speak over other interpretations of Willow or assert that it's the only true way to read her, but it's a headcanon I find interesting, and I think there’s a lot of evidence to back it up, between certain elements that Willow’s arc employs to some good old overanalysed symbolism. If you're aspec, I hope this is validating; if you're not, I hope it's interesting; if you don't care, scrolling past it is quick, free, and easy.

Some disclaimers on terminology: I’m speaking from an aroace perspective, and so when I say “aspec coding” I’m generally referring to both orientations as a catch-all - a lot of the coding surrounding Willow could go either way. I’m also going to be talking about commonly accepted “aspec” narratives, but I’m aware of the limitations of this insofar as my experiences are only a single facet of the diverse range of aspec people in this world, so anyone who wants to add or argue anything - respectfully - is encouraged to.

Analysis below the cut!

The Thing About Plants

I’m not going to pretend that an association with plants is historically indicative of aspec coding, because, frankly, there haven’t been enough aspec characters to establish it as a convention, and it’s also a fairly wide-reaching branch of symbolism. However, I am going to propose that lighthearted comparisons between asexual people and plants (however misguided on functions of plant reproduction they are) are fairly common elements of budding ace teenage humour, as are related quips about photosynthesis.

[id: a screenshot of Willow from "I Was A Teenage Abomination", depicting her sitting on the ground while casting a spell over a small, pink flower. /end id.]

I’m also not going to claim that the colour green Belongs To Aromantics, and therefore that All Plants Are Belong To Us, but in tandem with everything else I’m about to cover, the connection between Willow and plants seems like a fairly plausible nudge to a relatively common element of aspec humour.

“Half-a-witch” Willow and the Late Bloomer Experience

[id: a screenshot of Willow with glowing green eyes, from "I Was A Teenage Abomination", depicting her summoning a mess of thorned vines. /end id]

Willow is literally nicknamed “half-a-witch”, in reference to her supposedly incomplete state - this is a sentiment eerily reminiscent of the pressure to find one’s “other half”, which affects aspec - especially aromantic - people particularly profoundly. She’s considered a late bloomer, someone who hasn’t reached the societal milestones of growth at the expected age, and who is derided and considered immature as a result of this perceived failure. However, we quickly discover that Willow is, in fact, an exceptionally competent and powerful witch - taken out of the restricting frame of the Abominations track, she’s able to grow into her own, “complete” person, therefore proving that she was never really lacking in anything in the first place. Like real-life aroace people, she was perceived as limited and immature based on the expectations and judgements of other people, but Willow was never deficient in anything, least of all herself.

[id: a screenshot of Willow and Luz from "I Was A Teenage Abomination". They are holding hands - the former is laughing with her eyes closed, and the latter is grinning, while covered in abomination goop. /end id]

As far as symbolism goes...the track Willow is initially put in literally requires her to conjure up another humanoid entity, with the expectation that she will therefore prove herself to be a whole and mature person. Only with this ability, she’s told, will she be successful and happy as an adult. The shapelessness of her attempts at conjuring an abomination reinforces this connection in my mind - if I may reference this quote from Ducktales 2017‘s (absolutely stellar) A Nightmare On Killmotor Hill, in which the protagonists explore their own subconscious fears via. the dream realm, for a second:

“I think that’s supposed to be my romantic interest, but I’m too threatened by the concept, so it never takes shape.”

A lot of young aroace people find themselves in situations where they attempt to convince themself of their interest in someone in an attempt to be “normal,” or end up lying in response to family members or friends’ questions about crushes. While Willow’s abominations, first and foremost, represent the expectations from her school, classmates, and family to be a successful, “complete” witch with a profitable future, I think that with an aroace interpretation of Willow they could also very easily be read as representing some latent insecurities over a lack of attraction, or pressure to find a significant other.

(I’m not condemning Willow’s dads, by the way - they seem like perfectly lovely fellas, and I’m confident that they were doing what they thought was best for her. They’re certainly very quick to drop everything to assure her future in Escaping Expulsion, so obviously they care about their daughter very much.)

Greens, Blues, and Yellows: Colour-Coding Willow Park

A while back, I made this post comparing Willow’s palette to the aromantic and aroace flags:

[id: a screenshot of a post depicting the aromantic and aromantic asexual flags, colour-picked from images of Willow in her Hexside uniform and casual dress respectively - these are overlaid on top of the flags. The caption reads "observations on willow park". /end id.]

The grey-and-green aromantic flag has long been the accepted mainstream symbol of aromanticism, and, as the above post - and many others - demonstrate, Willow’s palette reflects it near-perfectly. This could easily be a coincidence, owing to the palette of the standard Hexside Plant Track uniform, as well as her hair and eye colours - which are obviously supposed to be reflective of her plant-related abilities. However, given how fond of employing hidden meanings The Owl House has shown itself to be, I don’t think it’s far-fetched to claim that there’s at least a chance that her palette was constructed with the flag in mind.

The latter is...a bit more problematic for me, although it’s fun to joke about. The blue-and-yellow aroace flag was only created in December 2018, relatively late into The Owl House’s initial production, and it’s still relatively obscure, although on the rise in popularity as the accepted aroace flag (I only recently started using it myself), so I don’t know if Willow’s casual wear is enough to verify the presence of any deliberate subtext. I think it’s a fun coincidence, however, and (as was pointed out in this post) it’s cool that these blue and yellow stars surrounding Willow occur in the same frame as Luz’s bisexual decor:

[id: a photograph of Luz, Gus, and Willow, all surrounding a disgruntled-looking Principal Bump. Luz has flowers in the colours of the bisexual flag decorating her hair, while Willow is surrounded by bright blue and yellow stars. /end id.]

also seen above: powerful bi/aspec solidarity

Conclusion:

Do I genuinely believe that Willow is being deliberately written this way? If you’d asked me, say, two months ago, I’d have said probably not - as far as queer representation in kids’ cartoons has come, it has a ways to go, and focusing on transgender characters seems like a more obvious (and equally invaluable) route to go down. I can name maybe five explicitly aspec characters off the top of my head, two of whom have been written as alloromantic and/or sexual in adaptations or continuations of the source material (I have...some grievances with 2005 Doctor Who). But the emergence of Raine, an explicitly nonbinary character on Disney Channel, has given me a little spark of hope, and so, even if it’s never confirmed, it’s comforting to be able to see a character with such strong elements of aspec coding and think to myself, just maybe, that there might be some intent behind it.

I also...really want to see interesting things done with Willow. We’re halfway through Season 2, and despite some promising setup for her arc in the Season 1 finale, she’s sort of been left by the wayside lately in favour of developing the more “plot-relevant” characters, such as Luz, Amity, Eda, and Hunter. Frankly, I think it’s a disservice to her Season 1 development, despite how much I adore all the characters I just listed - beyond any personal motivation, the prospect that Willow could be aroace adds a lot of sorely-sought depth to her, and, as detailed, a lot of this has already been set up in her earlier episodes. I just...I think it’d be neat. Rarely do you get a kids’ show so brazenly queer in its themes as Owl House, and aspec people deserve to be included in that.

Willow would also be great aroace representation because, well - those five or so aspec characters I mentioned being aware of are all white or “raceless” (...also written as white, basically), and so an aspec Asian character would be a really lovely step forward in this area. Additionally, all the characters I referred to are also conventionally skinny, and Willow is not only fat, but written in a way that doesn’t treat this feature as a caricature. People who are more knowledgeable on these topics than I are absolutely free to make additions, as is anyone who feels like I’ve left certain details out.

tl;dr: Willow’s association with plants could be read as a cool nod to aspec humour, her “late bloomer” narrative is eerily reminiscent of some common aspec experiences, her palette speaks for itself, and it’d be really cool if we could diversify the so-far fairly bland sphere of aspec representation.

I’m going to conclude this by linking Rose by The Oh Hellos, because they’re my favourite band, they share The Owl House’s initials, and I also think it’s a good Willow song. Peace out.

youtube

#the owl house #willow park #pspspspsps you will read my 1.5k word aroace willow essay #hooting #meta #willow #aroace willow manifesto #fuck it. this is getting posted

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jihyuncompass · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Changes

It’s time for a very special fic for a very special boy who lives in my head and my heart. Happy birthday Shawty I love you <3

I want to give a very very special thanks to my wonderful friend @otherlandshark for giving me this idea, your mind never ceases to amaze me and I love you so very much.

I would also love to give thanks to everyone who has encouraged me or helped me with this fic. There’s several of you, some of which aren’t on here. But thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.

Summary: You decide to surprise Shaw for his birthday, but some unexpected events get in the way.

Shaw x MC

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Some cursing, adult jokes.

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

Leaning forward you squinted at the calendar in front of you checking it, you confirmed the date, June 21st. The date was circled in a red pen, the little box for the date had Shaw’s B-day!!!!! Written in the same red felt pen. You smiled to yourself as you reached out to your phone left face down on the table beside you.

You’d half expected a text from Shaw already, after all he usually was the one to text you first. Yet when you checked your notifications you didn’t see anything from him. You sat down at the kitchen table, considering if you should text him first, maybe he was sleeping in today, his finals should be done by now so maybe he was taking a day to rest. Even if that didn’t really sound like Shaw’s style.

As it turns out, you didn’t have to wait too long to decide if you should text him or not. Your phone screen lit up with a text message, the contact image of a young lavender haired man.

Shaw: Do you remember what today is?

MC: Oh I know this one!

MC: It’s monday!

Shaw:....

Shaw: Care to try again?

MC: Ah fine, it’s the 21st of June!

Shaw: You’re not wrong, but do you know what else it is?

MC: Hmmmmm

Shaw: Hm?

You knew very well that Shaw’s birthday was today, but still you wanted to tease him a little bit. Maybe just to get back at him a little bit for his usual rounds of teasing you.

MC: Maybe you should remind me what today is, since it seems I don’t know

Shaw: Or, how about we meet up?

Shaw: With my finals I’ve haven't had the time to entertain you

MC: Oh today? I’m not sure if I have the time…

Shaw: You can’t be that busy can you?

MC: Shaw it’s Monday! I have a job you know

MC: Buuuuut

MC: It is a bit slow today, perhaps I could take the day off.

Shaw: Meet me at the park. Don’t be late.

MC: Hey!!! I should be telling YOU that!!!!

Putting your phone back down on the table you quickly rose from your seat. You had preemptively taken the day off, preparing for today weeks ago. Today was not only his birthday, but also right after his final exams for school. Both events in your eyes were worthy of a celebration.

First, you got yourself dressed and ready, putting on the carefully chosen ensemble, an outfit more in line with Shaw’s personal style than your own, but one you knew he’d appreciate seeing you in.

You pulled out the large picnic basket from your closet, putting it down on the table while you opened your fridge door to grab the neatly packaged and wrapped food you’d spent the night before putting together. Once you finished your personal game of picnic basket tetris you carefully snuck in a picnic blanket on top.

The last step was the gift wrapped box sitting on the other side of your dining table, the gift was wrapped with the shark wrapping paper you’d special ordered on a whim the week beforehand. You slipped the box into your bag, trying to keep it at least a little bit hidden from view. You slipped on your shoes as you held your bag in one arm and the picnic basket in the crook of your elbow.

The bright blue sky was the first thing you noticed when you stepped outside. The warm new summer air swaying the newly bloomed flowers on your path. The summer breeze was just warm enough that you felt a bead of sweat appear on your brow as you walked to the park you had arranged to meet at.

Since the weather was so warm for the first time in what seemed like forever it looked like everyone in the city was outside today. Families walked into ice cream shops, groups of friends wandered into stores and restaurants. Couples holding hands walking down the sidewalk hand in hand.

The park wasn’t any less busy, it took several rounds walking along the park to find the perfect spot to get yourself set up, after walking the perimeter for a while you found a good spot you could get yourself situated.

Your phone rang just as you finished pulling out the last items from your picnic basket. Once the items were set down you reached out and quickly answered your phone without even really checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“I’m almost there, where are you?” Shaw asked on the other end.

“I’m sitting under one of the trees, just walk around I’ll wave when I see you”

Shaw sighed on the other end. “You can’t just find me?”

“Nope! You have to find me. I’m not moving.” Shaw dramatically sighed. “Just come find me. Trust me it’ll be worth it.”

“Alright,” Shaw said. “I’ll find you, I can see the park now. Be ready.” He hung up the phone just a moment after that.

Your eyes swept around the park looking for him. You looked for that familiar lavender hair or that patented leather jacket he seemed so very fond of. Still, it was hard to see through all the crowds of people, the way they crowded up the paths and sidewalks and made it even harder to see anyone specific.

Once you saw that lavender hair sticking out of the crowd your hand was raised in the air, waving wildly to try and grab his attention, and as some of the people thinned out you could clearly see Shaw walking down the sidewalk, his eyes also looking around the park to try and find you.

After waving your hands for a few more moments, Shaw's eyes met yours, a spark of recognition crossing his face, and then, his facial expression slowly changing as he noticed where you were sitting, and the assortment of food that you had put around yourself. All for him.

He stopped just a few steps away from you, you could tell that he was trying to hide his exact facial expression. Trying to hide it with his classic cool and unbothered face, but his eyes didn't lie, and the way they seemed to be sparkling.

"What's this?" Shaw asked as he looked down at the set up. You smiled and motioned to the blanket you had spread out on the ground.

"Happy birthday Shaw." You said, his eyes looked like they were glowing. His pupils wide as he took it all in. His mouth was slightly open, like he couldn't quite believe what it was that he was seeing in front of him. "What are you doing just standing there! Come on, sit down."

After a half a moment of him staring he sat down on the other end of the blanket. He still wasn't saying much, almost uncharacteristically quiet.

"What do you think? I tried to make some things I know you like. It's no hotpot but I couldn't quite figure out how we could do hotpot in the park, but since the weather is so nice I figured that a picnic would be nice!"

Shaw looked at you, and in the moment that he was staring at you it was like an instant change. He cleared his throat and let his usual cool and collected expression return to his face, looking cool, calm, and collected like he had been expecting this the whole entire time.

“It doesn’t look too bad.” He finally said. You smiled at him, a comment like that from Shaw was quite the compliment. “You did all this?”

You nodded. “Yeah I made all this last night and this morning.” You handed him a can of coke and a can of pepsi, his two favorites. “Consider this a double celebration, we’re celebrating your birthday and you finishing your finals.” Shaw looked up and down at the picnic food on the blanket and you sitting on the other end of the blanket.

Shaw’s usual smirk reappeared on his face as he popped the tab open on the can of coke, taking a long sip. “I suppose I can admit you made an okay show of pretending to forget today.”

“I would never forget!” You said, “I’ve had the date written down on my calendar ever since I found out when your birthday was.”

Shaw’s face was unreadable, he hid his expression by sipping on his soda. Trying to keep his face away from you, as if by looking at you it would reveal something he wasn’t ready for you to see yet.

Maybe you would have asked if he was okay, or try to say something to make him face you again. But before you could do anything about that thought your attention was broken by the raindrops that fell right on top of your head.

The rain started to fall faster, dark rain clouds overtaking the whole no-longer blue sky. You looked up at the sky, as the raindrops started falling faster and harder. Within seconds it was pouring down rain on the once warm soil.

It seemed to take Shaw a bit longer to notice the rain that was soaking his hair and clothes. Once he noticed his eyes went upwards to look up at the now darkened sky.

Although he didn't say it, and neither did you, you had a very good feeling that you knew what had caused this sudden rainstorm.

Looking around the park, the once happy families and couples were packing up their things, running for shelter or to their cars, no one seemingly prepared for any kind of sudden rain. Even you, who should have prepared for this possibility, hadn't even considered the idea that it could rain. Especially with the person you were with.

"Shit, the food!" You quickly tried to repackage and rewrap the food you'd brought, trying to keep it from getting wetter and ruined.

"It's just a little rain" Shaw said looking up at the sky, he must have known the rain's origin. There's no way that he couldn't have known what caused this.

“I would say it’s a little more than a little rain!” You tried to shove them back into the basket. "Also I don't want all this food getting wet and soggy." You pushed back some of your wet hair as the raindrops ran down your face and neck.

Quickly you put all the food back into the basket, and motioned for Shaw to stand up, the blanket below you was already soaked, and the mud started to stick to the other side. You bit your lip and you tried to fold it up the best you could.

“Did you bring an umbrella?” You asked him, Shaw shook his head.

“Didn’t think it would rain.” You glared at him. “What?”

“You don’t just keep one on you in case of sudden rain? That seems to happen a lot around you.” You hugged yourself to try and keep warm as the rain soaked your clothes.

“I didn’t think I’d need it.” Shaw said. “Besides, it’s June.” You resisted the urge to remind him that not only does it rain in June but the time of year doesn’t seem to matter when you have an Evolver who makes it rain whenever he’s in a good mood.

Trying to hide from the rain under the tree you held the picnic basket close. “How about we go back to my place, we can eat there.” Shaw picked up your other bag, the one with his present hidden in it, biting your tongue you tried not to make clear that you didn’t want him seeing the contents just yet. But he didn’t try to look.

“Here.” Shaw shedded his jacket and handed it over to you. You took the jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders, the arms a little too long and the jacket not quite fitting, but it was comfortable, and you could feel the lingering warmth from his body heat on it.

“I’ll follow your lead.” Shaw said casually, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Looking out to the rest of the now deserted park you mentally mapped the quickest way home, the two of you would be soaked, no doubt, but at least you could get back.

Together you took off into the rain, trying to walk beneath any kind of cover you both could find on the way back. You held Shaw’s jacket close, as you did the scent of peppermint and light cologne was easy to pick up, an almost comforting smell.

Throwing open the door to your apartment building you both breathed a sigh of relief when you were out of the rain, so filled with relief it took a few moments to realize something wasn’t right.

“Someone turned off the lights.” You commented looking at the dark lobby. Shaw punched the up button on the elevator, to no avail. No elevator sounds, no lighting up on the button.

“The power’s out.” He said, pushing wet hair out of his eyes. “Probably the heavy rain.”

You withheld the groan growing in your throat. “Seriously?” You tried the elevator button

yourself, with no better result.

Shaw didn't seem nearly as bothered as you did, or at least he pretended like he wasn't bothered. He looked to the door leading to the stairs up.

"Come on. I won’t carry you up the stairs." Shaw said, pushing open the door.

You followed up, slowly trudging up the long stairwell, your socks squelching uncomfortably in your shoes. Your hair dripping with the rain, Shaw's jacket being the only thing giving you the smallest bit of comfort at the moment.

The two of you eventually made it up to your floor, and down your hallway to your door. You couldn't waste any time with sticking in your key and getting through the door.

Your apartment was dark, just like the lobby, no lights on, not even the stove or oven. The apartment was completely dark beyond the small amount of light coming in through the window, and completely silent without the hum of the fridge or your computer.

You set the picnic basket down on the table, rushing to the bathroom to grab towels. Grabbing the biggest towels you had in your cupboard. Tossing one to Shaw and using your own to dry your face and hair first.

"I'm gonna change clothes." You told him. Then looked him up and down. “I’d offer you some of mine but I’m not sure they’ll fit.” You racked your brain, there must be something you could offer him. “I could ask my neighbor, he’s a little shorter than you but maybe-”

Shaw shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“I’m not that wet.” Shaw said as he dried off his hair, the lavender strands still damp when he pulled the towel away. Shaw looked you up and down, that mischievous look reappearing in his gaze “You on the other hand-” He said with that tone that could have suggested anything.

“Shaw!” You said as your cheeks flushed red. His smirk intensified at your flustered face, and you did your best to reel it in. After all that was the reaction he was hoping for. You huffed and pulled out a set of clean clothes from your closet.

You left him in the living room while you changed clothes, drying your hair further in the darkness of the bathroom. You probably should have predicted a result like this, but it was too late to go back now.

In dry clothes and sufficiently put back together you ventured back into the living room. Shaw stood with his shirt in his hands as he set it on your clothes drying rack in the corner of your apartment.

Although his back was turned to you, you quickly averted your gaze from him as the flush returned to your face. You kept your eyes on the ground as you put away your other damp clothes to be washed and dried once the power was back.

“Oi.” Shaw said, You kept yourself from looking directly at him. “Why are you staring at the floor like that? Did you break your neck putting on a shirt?” Your face turned an even brighter red color as he spoke.

“I-” You turned your head away. “I’m just thinking.” You tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. Maybe so he wouldn’t try and pull an even more embarrassed reaction out of you.

Shaw’s slit brow raised up, his classic playful expression returning in full force. “What could you possibly be thinking about?” He said, walking towards you. Still feeling too flustered to look at him, you grabbed the throw blanket from the couch and tossed it at him.

“You’re probably cold right? There’s no heating right now so you must be freezing.” Your words came out faster and maybe a little more jumped than you’d typically like. Watching him out of the corner of your eye he unfolded the blanket and placed it over his bare shoulders, relieving a little bit of your embarrassment.

The picnic basket still left on the table caught your eyes once you felt calm again. The basket was still a bit wet, raindrops clinging to the top and sides of the basket. The bag with Shaw’s present is also just as damp. Glancing from the picnic basket to the blanket around Shaw’s shoulders, an idea formed in your head.

“What’s going on in your head?” Shaw asked, poking your arm playfully.

You smiled and looked at him. “The rain ruined my original plan but, I think I know what we can do to still celebrate.” You picked up one of the other throw blankets on the couch, and unfolded it and spread it on the living room floor.

Shaw caught onto your plan pretty quickly, you handed him the picnic basket and pointed to the blanket. “You get this all set up, I’m going to go and find some candles so we can have a little bit of light.”

You arranged your candles and flashlights around the blanket so there was at least some light overlooking your picnic food, even if some of the items had become slightly soggy from the rain.

“Nice atmosphere.” Shaw joked.

You rolled your eyes at him. “We can always eat in the dark.”

“Nah.” Shaw said as he took a bite of the sandwich you’d made. “The dark is for other things.” He gave you a suggestive look as he said that, making your face turn red again.

“Don’t be gross!”

Shaw’s suggestive smirk only intensified. “I saw how embarrassed you were when you came out here. I know what I look like. You can-”

“Shaw stop it!” You said louder, trying to hide your flustered expression in the shadows left by the candles and flashlights. “I don’t care if it’s your birthday, I will make you go back out in the rain.”

Shaw’s expression changed, but you still saw that mischievous spark, although that was just a regular feature of Shaw’s face. “You sure do get embarrassed easily.” He said as he took another bite. You ignored his comment, not interested in humoring his dirty mind further.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have other plans today.” You said, looking up at Shaw. “I figured you’d go to Live House or hang out with the band.”

Shaw shrugged. “Birthdays aren’t that big of a deal.” He said, sipping on the new can of cola you’d gotten him. “Besides, I knew you had something planned.”

“Wait, how did you know?”

“You’re not very good at surprises.” Shaw set the can of cola down as he picked at the side dishes. “I will give you one thing though, I wasn’t expecting this.”

A smile broke across your face. “Do you like it?”

Shaw looked back up at you. “It’s alright, you didn’t do too bad.”

“Well,” you sat up straighter and leaned for the closed bakery box you’d set next to the picnic basket. “I still have a few surprises left in me.” You set the bakery box between you. Shaw’s expression changed as you opened up the top. Revealing the birthday cake you’d gotten for him. A simple cake frosted in blue with a dorky looking shark frosted onto the top, Happy Birthday Shaw! Written in black frosting below it.

Shaw’s face shifted through a variety of emotions in a few seconds, at first confusion, surprise, and then he started laughing. Covering his mouth as he laughed.

“What is that?” Shaw said between laughter. “It looks so childish.”

You huffed, “It’s what the bakery had! And I figured you wouldn’t want a boring cake!”

Shaw managed to get his laughter under control as he looked at the cake again. “Let’s hope it tastes good for your sake.” He said, handing him a fork you both dug into the cake, not even bothering to slice it.

The cake was sweet, and thankfully unaffected by the rainstorm, the cake flavor was fairly basic but the sweetness was enough to make it good. Shaw also seemed pleased with the flavor, taking bite after bite of the cake without complaint.

Once the two of you had pretty much eaten the entire frosted shark you both considered that more than enough cake for the two of you. Now, it was time for your final surprise.

Shaw was still focused on the cake when you pulled out the two gift wrapped packages, holding them out for him.

“Your final surprise of the day, I promise.”

Shaw took the two boxes, setting one down and unwrapping the other. You watched him intently as he ripped away the wrapping paper.

A slight surprised noise came from Shaw as he looked at his gift. “A children’s fossil dig kit?” He held the box in his hands, the front showing two children digging in the play sand for plastic fossils. He gave you a bizarre look.

“I thought it’d be fun! Little field work practice.”

“It’s for children.” Shaw said. “Do I look like a child?”

You reached for the toy. “If you don’t want it I’ll just return it then-”

Shaw pulled the box away. “Nuh uh, you don’t get to take a gift back. This is mine.” Shaw set the box down beside him, out of your grasp. You settled back where you sat, even if he wouldn’t say it, you knew he did like the gift. He picked up the second item, much smaller than the first, barely bigger than a stack of envelopes.

Tearing the wrapping paper away, once again he seemed a bit confused by the gift in his hands. A stack of notecards, hole punched and held together by a binder ring. Each one with slightly different writing on it.

“This is?” Shaw asked you, giving you a look.

“It’s a coupon book, for my time and for favors. If you want to drag me along to a concert or an antique fair, you can use those, and I can’t say no.”

“And I can use these for any kind of favor?”

You nodded. “Yep! Anything at all.”

Shaw looked back at the coupon book and then at you. A particular look in his eye. As he looked at you, you watched as the blanket that had been around his shoulders started to fall.

Opening the binder ring he handed you one of the notecard coupons. “I’m using one right now, my first request.” Shaw scooted closer to you, so close you could feel the body heat radiating from his bare torso. “I want you to spend every one of my birthdays with me.”

“Every single one?”

Shaw nodded. “Every single one.” Your eyes were locked together, your wide eyes against his slightly troublesome gaze. Still you weren’t worried about what was going on in his head. Beyond that troublesome gaze, there was also the softness in his face, the way he looked perfectly calm, and perfectly happy. “I think I have another idea for a coupon to use right now.”

Smiling gently at him, you reached out to hold his hand, not breaking eye contact for a second.

“I think I’ll let this one be a freebie.”

Shaw leaned closer, until your foreheads were practically pressed together.

“Perfect.” He whispered, closing the small gap between you. His soft lips pressed against yours he pulled away just a centimeter after one long kiss.

“This, I think, is the best gift I’ve gotten all day.”

#mlqc #mldd #love and producer #shaw ling #ling xiao #yeon siho #mr love queens choice #mr love fanfic #shaw x mc #birthday

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Text

“Corruption pt. 5” w.y.h

Pairing: college teacher!Lucas x student!reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, smut.

Summary: Lucas never thought of falling for a student, but from the first day you walked into de classroom you had him wrapped around your finger.

Warnings: none

a/n: This is the last chapter BUT I’m gonna write an epilogue. Hope you like it.

Taglist: @ncteaxhoe @junglewoos

corruption m.list.

“Dude, you need to get out of bed.” Chenle slightly pushed your body. “You’re starting to smell.”

“What’s the point, Chenle?” You whined against your pillow, still a little wet from your mental breakdown an hour ago.

“You still need to go to classes.” He tried pulling your arm, but you didn’t budge.

“I don’t want to see him.”

“You don’t even have classes with him, for god’s sake.” He sighed, desperate to get you out of bed.

“Just leave me alone.” Your phone started buzzing, announcing Lucas’ fifth call of the day. It was barely 9:00 a.m.

“Okay, I’m done with this little attitude of yours.” He grabbed the device and handed it to you. “You’re gonna answer the phone and solve your problems like the goddamn adult you are, or else I might call your parents and tell them you’ve been sleeping with our professor.” You sat straight, eyes wide open.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

You groaned and snatched the phone from his hands, pressing the green button with shaky hands.

“Hello?” Your voice came out weaker than expected.

“Y/n? Thank god. Are you alright? You haven’t been answering any of my calls or messages so I was worried something might have happened.” You hummed. “Can we meet?”

“Okay.”

“I can pick you up and then we can go to my apartment-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask Chenle to drive me.”

“Alright. See you then.” A soft murmur stopped you from hanging up. “I love you.” You couldn’t bring yourself to reply, instead ending the call.

“You were such a brave girl.” Your friend cooed while wrapping his arms around you.

“Shut up.”

Chenle helped you pick an outfit to ‘show him what he lost’ and drove you all the way to his apartment complex.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” You released your body from the seatbelt.

“It’s okay, lele. Thank you for driving me.” He nodded before you went out.

You took a deep breath, rehearsing the things you wanted to say to Lucas. But as soon as you saw him, your mind went blank. He looked bad, maybe even worse than you.

“Y/n.” He wanted so bad to hug you, to beg you not to leave him. But that would be selfish.

“Lucas.” He let you in, there were two cups of tea right above the coffee table in his living room.

You sat at a safe distance from him.

“I am deeply sorry, y/n. I should’ve told you earlier what was going on, but I was a coward. I knew this would be over the moment you found out.”

“So what is going on Lucas?” Your voice was calm as you picked up the teacup and brought it to your lips. Those soft, sweet lips.

“There are some things you don’t know about me.” He licked his lips nervously. “For instance, my parents come from wealthy families, and I’m their only child, therefore I’m...”

“The heir.” You completed, feeling a knot forming in your stomach.

“Yes.” He feared so much that you’d see him with different eyes. “My parents wanted me to have someone to guide me and support me for when I take over the family company. The woman you saw last Friday was one of their friends’ daughter.”

He waited for a reply that never came. How could you even answer to that?

“Say something, please.” He finally scooted closer to you, taking your hand between his. His heart broke at the sight of your teary eyes. “Anything, I’m begging you.”

“I understand your decision.” He expected anything but that. “They’re your parents after all, you want to make them proud. I just wish you’d told me earlier, it would’ve been easier to end things between us.”

“I’ll leave them.”

“What?”

“Just ask me to stay with you and I’ll abandon everything.” By the look in his eyes, you knew he meant it. “Ask me to stay with you.” It sounded more like a plead.

“No.” It took all of your inner strength to get that single word out.

“Y/n, I-”

“Lucas, don’t ask me to decide on your life when I barely know what to do with my own.” Yes, your words were hurtful, but you weren’t wrong. “I don’t want to be the girl who made you drift away from your family.”

At some point, you both had started crying, knowing that there was no way you could fix your relationship.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” He apologized for the millionth time. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t.” You held no grudge against him, after all, you would’ve probably done the same if you were in his situation. “Just promise me one thing. You’ll do what’s best for yourself, not for me or for your parents.” He nodded, eyes watering. “I should probably leave now.”

“Wait.” He held onto your wrist, his lost puppy eyes looking directly into your own. “If it isn’t too much to ask, can I have one last kiss?”

It was indeed to much to ask, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feel the warmth of his lips against yours one last time, so you went for it.

Straddling his lap, you grabbed the back of his head to pull him even closer. It was a kiss filled with passion and love, it was your own way of saying goodbye. It took a while for you to pull away.

“Thank you.” He murmured, hands caressing your hips. “I love you so much, y/n. I promise I’ll be back, okay?”

“I love you too, Lucas.” With that being said, you stood up. Avoiding to look back, you made your way out.

Chenle was still outside when you came down, leaning against his car with his arms wide open for you.

You didn’t hesitate to crash your body against his, crying your eyes out as he combed your hair with his fingers.

“I’m here for you. Always.”

(...)

3 years later...

“Where are you?”

“I’m picking up my luggage, see you at the parking lot?”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later, the tall, dark haired man walked out of the airport. A sports bag hanging from his left shoulder while the opposite hand dragged the suitcase.

“Kun!”

“Hey, man.” They greeted each other with a big hug. “I missed you.”

“Sorry, I wanted to visit earlier but work has been a bitch.” Specially when he didn’t even like what he was doing.

“Same here, it seems like the students get more unbearable with every semester.” He helped Lucas load his belongings into the truck. “So how’s Mrs. Wong been? Are you getting along well?”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes while getting inside the car. “Last week, my mom asked us about our sex life. She was like ‘I expect to have grandkids by the end of next year’, the last time we kissed was in our wedding.”

“So you’re gonna be a dad?” He mocked, starting the engine.

“Not from her kids at least.” Kun knew exactly what that meant.

“Lucas, you should really get over her. You’re a married man.”

“Not for much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been seeing a lawyer, none of us is happy with our relationship and we’ve already wasted three years of our life in it. It’s time to end it.”

“And what do your parents think about this?”

“They don’t have a say in this matter. I’m and adult and it’s my future we’re talking about.”

“And why couldn’t you come to this conclusion three years ago? You would’ve saved me all the suffering from listening to you ranting about how much you missed y/n.” Lucas hit his arm playfully, a big smile on his face as the thought of you crossed his mind.

He unlocked his phone, your picture was still his wallpaper.

“Has she graduated yet?”

“She’s actually doing her master’s degree. She’s an exceptional student, a lot of important labs already have their eyes on her.”

“Of course they do, they’d be stupid if they didn’t.” His finger traced your figure, smiling proudly at the image.

“Oh look at you, you haven’t stopped loving her one bit.”

“Stop it.”

“Oh, by the way, we need to stop by the campus. I have to pick up exams to check them at home.” Lucas’ eyes lit up at the possibility of meeting you.

“Do you think she’ll be there?”

“Probably, she’s usually devouring a book at the library or at the lab. Sometimes she stops by at my office for tutoring or my opinion on something.”

“You better not have tried something with her.”

“Actually...”

“What?”

“Just kidding, she’s my student, nothing more.”

“She better be.”

The campus was thankfully near the airport. Lucas almost fell as he exited the vehicle, eager to see you once again after all those years.

“Careful, give me a call when you’re done looking for her.”

“Sure.” He replied, already running away from the car towards the library.

He met a lot of his old students on the way, briefly greeting them before resuming his search. You weren’t there, so he decided to try at the labs.

You weren’t there either, but your ID and belongings were. You looked different in your picture, you looked so mature now, but your innocent aura was still intact.

“Are you looking for y/n?” One of the students asked as soon as he saw Lucas eyeing her ID. “She just left.”

“Oh, thank you.” He replied, still not taking his eyes off your mesmerizing face.

His phone vibrated.

‘She’s in my office.’ His heart sped up and his legs automatically started moving.

On his way to Kun’s office he tried to think of ways to greet you. Would a simple ‘hello’ be okay? Or would it be appropriate to tell you how much he missed you?

His mind was so busy he didn’t realized he was already in front of the office. He took a deep breath before opening the door. Your back was facing him while you passionately explained Kun the results of your experiment, not even realizing who just made an appearance.

“Y/n.” Lucas called from the door frame, causing you to interrupt your explanation.

“Yes?” You finally turned around. “Lucas?”

Your hair was tied up in a messy hair bun, a pair of safety glasses covering your eyes and a stained lab coat around your body. You looked like a mad scientist, a cute mad scientist.

“Hi.” Was the only thing he could pronounce. ‘How pathetic’ he thought.

“Long time no see.” You smiled so warmly, as if he hadn’t abandoned you to marry another woman. “Have you been well?”

“Y-yes, I mean, as well as I can be.” Your eyes wandered to his hand, taking notice of the golden ring around his finger.

“I’m glad.” You dedicated him another smile before turning back to face your professor. “I’ll send you the draft of my report as soon as I finish it. Excuse me.” You grabbed your laptop from the desk and went out, murmuring a small ‘bye’ to Lucas on your way out. The scent of your perfume striking him with a wave of nostalgia.

“Well, I don’t know what I was expecting but this was definitely not it.”

“I don’t know why I thought we would both burst into tears and say how much we missed each other.” He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“She’s probably going back to the lab, in case you want to talk to her again.” He nodded. “I’ll wait for you so we can head to my house.”

“Alright, I’ll try to be quick.” He went out again, this time at a slower pace.

He went back to the labs, your voice receiving him as soon as he crossed the entrance. Most of the students had already left, it was already getting dark.

“Zhong Chenle, get out of here, you’re distracting me.”

“But, y/n, I’m hungry and I don’t want to go alone to the cafeteria.”

“Not my problem.” You were focused on writing your report, the safety glasses still on your face.

“Uhm, are you busy?” Lucas knocked on the door, catching yours and Chenle’s attention.

“You’re back.” His eyes were wide open. “You know what? I’ll go get our food, see you.”

“Coward.” You muttered. “Come in, Lucas.” Even though there was no hint of anger in your voice, the fact that you were calling him Lucas and not Xuxi meant something bad.

“What are you working on, huh?” He says on the stool beside yours, taking a look at your screen.

“Just trying to find a cure for AIDS, nothing special.” You typed a few more words before saving the file. “What did you want to talk about Mr. Wong?”

“I think you know what.”

“I think so.” You removed the glasses, red marks over the area where they used to be.

“Cute.” He though out loud, causing you to touch your face, the color of your cheeks becoming pinker with every second. It was amazing how much of an effect his words still had on you.

“S-sorry, I wore these for more than five hours.”

“Don’t worry, I know what it’s like.” He tapped his fingers against the table. “Three years huh?”

“Yeah, seems like it was yesterday when we...” You chose not to finish the sentence, knowing that it would probably make you cry.

“I missed you.” His hand reached out for yours, the golden band around his finger burning your skin. “There hasn’t been a single day where I haven’t thought about you. You managed to take over my mind in a way that no one else could ever do.”

“We can’t do this.” With your free hand, you gently removed his hand from yours. “You’re married.”

“I’m getting divorced soon.” Your heart thumped so loudly against your chest that you were afraid he’d hear it. “We just need to fix some things and this whole thing will be over.”

You pulled out your notebook from your bag, tearing a piece of paper to write in it. You handed it to him with a genuine smile.

“Here’s my new number. Give me a call when you finish fixing those things, I’ve already waited for three years, so what’s a few more months?”

#nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct smut #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #wayv #wayv smut

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