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yoongsisbae · 3 years

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Caught! House of Cards - Chapter 3

You joined a website to make some quick and easy cash. Men paying to look at you, harmless fun, right? Little did you know how dangerous the members of House of Cards were. Watch out! Houses built with cards come tumbling down…

OT7 yandere!BTS x reader / Namjoon x Taehyung x reader this chapter

Oh, I was dying writing this chapter so I think I wrote it well? Heh there’s a lot going on, so you have been warned lol. Also hope to post HOAL soon, that is if BTS would stop attacking me with all these sexy bad boy photoshoots that scream C!HOC mens. Sorry, but can you really blame me? :(

Warnings: 18+ dark themes, reader manipulation, scary yandere behavior, voyeur, masturbation, lots of drinking and drunkenness, dubcon, dry humping on the dance floor lol, this is pretty filthy, all of them are horny, dom!Namjoon, dom!Taehyung, Tae’s a lot, shibari, bondage, blindfold, rough sex, edging, multiple orgasms, threesome, degradation, Yoongi continues to be a meanie, slut shaming, extreme regret for reader that could be triggering I think, tell me if I need to tag anything else

PSA: to reiterate, this is a yandere fic, this is all fantasy, this is scary, no one actually wants this to happen to them irl. But I’m also here for you if you wanna enjoy some hot fictional villains, alright? I got u boo.

Word Count: 8.7k

Playlist: Rotimi - Push Button Start // Shenseea - Blessed (with Tyga) // ROSALIA - Con Altura // Sean Paul - Go Down Deh // Afro B - Drogba // Aya Nakamura - Pookie // DJ Nelson - PAPI //J Balvin - Amarillo // SUPA NYTRO - Tik Pon Cock // Paris Lain - Way (links here)

---

“P-please...”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum, Daddy.”

He groans in your ear. “Hmm no.” He pulls his fingers out of you, you hold onto the banister as your orgasm escapes you. Your body shakes with need.

“You’ll come find me later tonight, won’t you, baby girl?” His warmth leaves your body, when you turn around no one is there.

---

Your legs are still shaking as you make your way downstairs. You tried not to think about the slick between your thighs as you descended each step, or think about RM’s warm breath against your ear. No, you won’t think about his deep voice that makes you shiver still, or the way he massaged your neck like he had done it a hundred times before...out of all the weird fucked up things you thought could happen tonight, never ever did you expect to meet RM again.

He reminded you of all the reasons why you allowed yourself to fall deeper into that kind of exhibitionistic lifestyle as a carded member. The money was good, but the sweetest rewards were corporal. The saccharine praise your admirers would give you became addicting. You even became close to some of them, for an extra fee.

What was it your old school counselor would say? It wasn’t about the destination, the real reward was the friends you made along the way. Except your new friends told you all their dirty filthy desires and watched as you would get off for them. You learned quickly your sexual appetite was ravenous, the more you indulged the worse it got. You had been starved for attention for so long, quarantine only amplifying your loneliness, and the dark site fed you well.

RM also reminded you of all the reasons why you left. You still don’t understand how you fell so deep so fast, let digital become physical when you promised yourself you wouldn’t. The House Rules made the descent into filth almost inevitable. During your only experience inside The House, you had been shown truths you didn’t want to face, depravities you enjoyed. After that night you went home, showered away your sins until your skin burned, logged out and never logged back in. It was the best way to end your addiction to House of Cards, end it cold turkey.

You were not prepared for this again. You were not prepared for how much you craved it.

---

The party became wild. Your body now hyper aware of everything after RM worked you up so skillfully and denied you any release. The music reverberates throughout the halls, the beats of the bass clashes with the pounding in your head. The smell of drugs and sex assaults your nostrils, and every time a dancer bumps into you, your body remembers RM’s touch.

So many bodies around you and you feel all alone like an outcast. Where’s Yoongi? You're beginning to miss that annoying smirk and the overconfident man attached to it, you could use some of that confidence right now.

As the room spins around you, your eyes find the place where you had been standing. You’re disappointed it’s empty. Not that you knew what RM looked like, but you feel like you’d recognize him as soon as you saw him, a man like that would look like walking sin.

You shift your upward gaze to the gold ropes hanging from the ceiling, eyes traveling down until you meet the glistening body of a woman. She’s so beautiful it makes you ache, arms secured behind her back, her leg extended and tied high, her other leg bent and pressed to her side and her spread open for everyone to see.

You play with the pendant around your neck, and you can’t help but imagine yourself in her position, tied up for everyone to see, for Yoongi to watch. You’re soaking. You need a drink.

---

“Hey,” you bump into Yoongi’s side as you sit down, grabbing his whisky glass and downing what’s left. The burning liquid makes you grimace, face scrunching up in distaste.

He pulls the glass from your grip, looking you up and down, sharp eyes narrowing, “Where have you been?”

“I got lost.” His arm snakes around your waist. His touch feels good, you don’t want to admit how much your body yearns for more, wants to be wanted. “Where are Jimin and Hobi?”

“Dancing,” Taehyung interjects as he gets closer to you, offering you another glass of champagne. You take it gratefully, sipping on the sweet liquid, anything to numb the ache you feel inside.

His eyes sparkle as he scrutinizes you up close, examining your dark makeup and tight dress. He wants to smear the red lipstick on your lips with his fingers, and his mouth, and his cock. He wants to stain your pretty black dress with his cum, let the milky white fluid drip all over the black silky fabric, between your breasts-

“I’m sorry, what is your name again?”

You ask him so innocently, Taehyung can forgive you for forgetting. Jungkook on the other hand, silently simmers with rage, especially when Yoongi smirks at him, sitting pressed to your side like a lover would.

“Taehyung,” The man gives you a big wide smile, “that's Seokjin,” he points to the tall man who keeps his distance, “and this,” he hits Jungkook’s chest and pulls him into a headlock, “is Jungkook!” Taehyung leans in to whisper in your ear, “a big fan.”

Your eyes go wide, did you hear him correctly? You watch the two play fight. Jungkook punches his older friend in the side a bit harder than he was expecting, earning a yell from Taehyung. They act cute, you think, Jungkook looks too innocent, you can’t believe he had watched you in his free time.

Hoseok and Jimin find their way back into the group. “Y/n, you’re back! Yoongi was about to send out a search party for you.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, and you lean your chin onto your palm, raising your eyebrows at him, trying to hide your smile at the way they tease him.

“Is that so?” His fingers pinch the flesh of your back at your retort, making you squirm at the ticklish sensation. When you try to pull his hand away, he takes the opportunity to intertwine your fingers together, pulling you firmly to his side.

You look down at Yoongi’s hand in yours, resting on your hip. Without the alcohol cursing through your veins you might have pushed him off you, but instead you sit buzzed and docile. He acts so possessive of you in front of the others, it makes your heart race. “Well I’m here now.”

“I’ll cheers to that!” Jimin fills everyone’s drinks. 7 glasses clang together and they cheer, making you giggle as you down the glass. One cheers becomes two, and then another bottle comes, until you're welcoming back that hazed state of mind that feels so freeing. The background fades away and the booming music around you becomes muffled as you try your best to focus on the conversation, until you realize you’re in Yoongi’s lap, his veiny hands dancing around your exposed thigh. He says something you can’t hear, so you tilt your head back, resting on his shoulder, whining out a slurred, “what!”

“You’re having too much fun.” He suppresses the urge to move his fingers higher, instead tracing lazy circles into your leg, making you twist in his lap, lips parting as you enjoy the sensation. Your body feels heavy from inebriation, so you lean your weight onto him more, focused on his cold rings against your warm skin.

You move your head closer to his. “You wanted to bring me here, right?” you laugh, and you swivel your body against him, grinding into his lap to the tempo of the music. Yoongi notices the others' heated stares, so he shifts his leg, pressing his hands into your thighs, opening your legs wider, and you’re too drunk to notice or care.

Yoongi tries to hold onto his thinning composure, how many times had he thought of you like this? So receptive and needy in his arms. He enjoys your torturous hip rolls, reveling in the fact that the sight tortures his audience even more. But you’re not really paying attention to that, your body only responding to how the music beat hits so well, his growing erection encouraging you to keep rubbing up against him like a cat in heat.

“Y/n, let's go dance!” Hoseok calls out to you over the music. His request pulls you from your trance. You sit up, shaking the clouded haze from your mind.

“Dance? Okay!” You let Hoseok pull you to your feet, stumbling slightly into him.

You turn to Yoongi, “You don’t mind, do you?” you ask, ready to start a fight. He glares at you. You sway on your feet and glare back. Such a brat, he thinks, you’ll just have to be taught a lesson later. Yoongi picks up his whisky and waves you off.

---

The dance floor is hot and alive with writhing bodies. You let Hoseok roll his hips into you from behind, your own hips following his movements. His toned arms lock around you, holding you, as he pulls your body lower and lower, until you’re crouched to the floor, your bodies connecting again and again as he rubs his hardening bulge into your ass to the beat.

It feels so so good, his warm body on you, seeking pleasure from one another. Every roll and buck helps to release the frustration RM did to you.

Hoseok’s hands pull your dress higher so you can spread your knees wider. He holds the bunched up fabric to your core to keep what’s left of your modesty, and your arms reach behind you to hook around his neck to keep yourself steady.

Hoseok is such a good dancer, masterfully guiding your loose body. You pull and push each other along to the sensual music, shifting your weight against your combined center of gravity as your bodies heat up in each other’s embrace.

Hoseok moves the hair from your neck away, blowing air on the back of your neck. His hand cups your breast, fondling you out in the open, “You like when I do this to you, don’t you Dahlia?” You’re too drunk to catch the pseudonym he uses.

You close your eyes focusing on his hands groping your body, your fingers fisting into his hair, pulling him closer, and his tongue licks off the sweat on your neck. Hoseok knows all the ways to leave you delirious with lust, hands running up and down your body, massaging your curves and leading your hips to meet his. If he’s making you feel this good with your clothes on, you can only imagine how amazing he’d be in bed, hips rolling against you as he fills you up with his stiff cock...

You’re so focused on Hoseok you don’t realize another body moving closer to you, another pair of hands on you, until Taehyung presses himself into your front.

The music fills your head, the dirty words being sung encouraging you to release all your inhibitions. Your arms reach out to run up Taehyung’s abdomen, up and up his chest, loving the feel of his muscles under your fingers.

He places your arms around his neck as he moves forward, his leg slotting between yours. With Hoseok grinding against your back and Taehyung rubbing against your front, you feel like you’re going to combust. The crowd around you is a blur, but everything about them feels so solid, so hard against you. Caged between them, you submit to every caress, every touch from both men.

Taehyung holds the back of your head to keep your eyes on him as Hoseok leaves open mouth kisses on your shoulder. Taehyung’s thumb caresses your cheek, “You’re so beautiful.” his mouth slides across your jaw, under your ear, licking and nibbling at your lobe, giving you goosebumps, “You’re the most beautiful woman here.”

You place your finger over his mouth pushing him away, too embarrassed to hear more, but your hips can’t help but push into him at the praise.

“Come with me,” he pulls you away from Hoseok, his friend winking at him behind your back, and you foolishly follow him through the sea of dancing bodies.

---

Pulling you into a dark corner, he cages you in before you can protest. Lips finding your neck, hooking a finger under your choker, pulling up, forcing your neck to tilt so he can reach more skin. Even if you want more, you still have some sense left in you to know letting Yoongi’s friend do this to you in front of everyone is a bad idea. “W-wait. Yoongi will-”

Taehyung’s arm slams into the wall. The noise startles you into silence. It’s Yoongi, always Yoongi. What about him? He steadies his breathing after noticing your wide eyes.

“Y/n, do you know who I am?” He leans onto the wall hovering over you, dark eyes peering down at you as he waits for your answer.

You feel your stomach drop under his intimidating gaze. “Should I know who you are?”

He answers your question with another question, “Do you know who Yoongi is? Do you really have no idea?” His interrogation takes you aback.

“He’s one of my...v-viewers...”

“Yes, who? You never thought to ask, baby?” Taehyung looks at you so accusingly, you feel ashamed that you can’t answer him.

“Who is he?” You ask.

He smiles, a twisted grin that makes you feel uneasy. Eyes lighting up darkly once his suspicions were proved right.

“How about this, since we both have so many unanswered questions, why don’t we play a game? I’ll answer one of your questions and then you answer one of mine. I’ll even let you go first.” His playful demeanor is back, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

“Who are you?”

Taehyung smiles wide. You asked the right question. “I go by V.”

What? “You’re V?”

---

You log into the House of Cards website, open your account to a litany of unread messages. Your eyes skim through them, and one catches your eye. It’s V, the second highest donator from the other night’s stream.

V: you looked so beautiful the other night. I hope to see another broadcast soon...for next time?

V sent you an eighty dollar donation and a link to a lingerie set: pink lace, a sheer see-through pattern on the cups with a matching lace thong and garter belt.

You’ve bought lingerie for men before, for then boyfriends on your anniversaries or Valentine’s day dates, but you’ve never had a man buy you lingerie before. With shipping you’ll still have money left over, so you decide to add some more things in your basket to surprise him for being such a generous donor. It’s not because you had enjoyed his compliments the most during your stream, no. You found a cute pair of thigh high socks and some stick on rhinestones, coming up with a plan to get V’s attention. You squeal once the order goes through, ‘time to arts and craft in this bitch.’

You open his message again, fingers hovering over the keyboard, what should you say? Should you make it sound sexy or cute? ‘C’mon y/n, just flirt.’

Dahlia: Thank you, V. I will wear it for my next broadcast. Just for you sexy <3

Ew ew. No. Before pressing enter you delete the last sentence.

Dahlia: Thank you, V. I will wear it for my next broadcast. See you soon ;)

You go through all your messages, in a much better mood than you’ve been in a long time. You bop your head to the music that flows through your speakers in your living room while coming up with different replies to each new viewer.

It feels good to be stress free, you think, while sipping on cup ramen because you’re still waiting until your earnings clear your account to buy groceries. You’ve managed to answer every message when a new notification dings. V attached a picture.

V: I can’t wait.

Holy... A picture of a shirtless man from the neck down pops up. He’s not overly muscular, but he’s lean and toned, with defined pecs and v-line. Mmm. ‘V’ indeed. His jeans are unbuttoned. His legs spread wide, as if he were inviting you to sit on his lap.

You’re being catfished, you surmise. This man has to be using someone else’s pictures. Or he has a face only a mother could love. Either way, you’ll play with this fantasy. it’s not like you’ll actually ever meet in real life.

So you decide to play along, it’s not like you had work to go to, or anything to do really. Locked up in your tiny home alone and slowly going stir crazy would lead to some unfortunate decisions for you. One of the worst, allowing V to get so close to you.

Abandoning your snacks, you grab your laptop and run to the bedroom, jumping on your bed. Your laptop opens to another risque photo, his jeans zipped even lower. Hand grabbing a very defined bulge resting inside his pants leg. Well fuck.

Dahlia: is that really you?

V: yes baby

V: I wish you were here with me right now. I would make you feel so good, just like you deserve.

V: How about you, am I turning you on?

You clench your legs together instinctively.

Dahlia: you are.

V: are you touching yourself?

Should you lie? You could. But the pictures and his words are doing something to you, you feel jitters and a quick pace and a throbbing core. Suddenly you have an idea.

Dahlia: why don’t you see for yourself?

You create a private room, aim your camera down, mirroring the same angle in V’s picture and send the link to him. You pull the front of your sundress down to show more cleavage and the hem up to show more leg, and you wait.

There’s a notification: ‘1 new viewer.’

V: you look so pretty, you look like a doll

V: I wish I was there.

“Yeah? What would you do to me?”

V: I would spread your legs

You spread your legs at his words. Your stream plays in Taehyung's bedroom, he watches intently, and when your panties come into view he pulls his jeans down to his thighs freeing his hard erection, slowly stroking himself to the sight of your body.

V: fuck, so good baby. being so good for me.

V: I would take off your panties. slowly

You follow his commands and slowly remove your underwear. You like being told what to do, you imagine he’s on the bed with you, telling you everything, guiding your pleasure.

V: touch yourself for me

V: you’re wet already? how cute

V: that’s a good girl, just like that

V: imagine it’s me. my fingers stuffed inside of you, giving you everything you want

V: you’re mine and mine only

V: you’re going to be mine to kiss and fuck. I’ll take care of you baby doll, make you cum all over my fingers. You want that too?

V: you're so pretty baby, you like putting on a filthy show for me? desperate little girl

V: open your legs wider

V: doing so well for me, stay just like that. you’re driving me crazy

V: cum for me

You pulse, moaning out loud, reaching your high. When your lust filled haze clears you don’t feel dirty like before, you feel good. Even better when V sends you another eighty dollar donation.

Taehyung played sweet and affectionate very well. When talking to other House members you’d try your best to keep things as vague as possible, but sometimes you’d let certain things slip with V, and he always listened so well. Shit, he treated you better than your ex. He’d send you sweet messages, gifts, and the hottest body shots. He would do that often, it made you needy for more affection. He was a part of a small group of viewers that you’d offer special private streams to. Little did you know your carefree playdates were Taehyung’s obsessions.

---

Taehyung feels a special kind of gratification at the way you gawk at him, stunned into silence. “Now my turn,” Taehyung’s expression goes from playful to serious in an instant, “Why are you here with Yoongi?”

You swallow, this was V all along. You teetered between happiness and unease, you remembered all the sweet memories you had with him, but this man was still a stranger to you. He keeps staring at you, is this how he looked watching you through the computer screen? Fuck, your imagination could not have dreamed up a sexier man. Oh right, he is waiting for your answer.

You explain to him what happened, Yoongi recognizing you at your job, the agreement you made with him afterwards. Taehyung moves from hovering over you to standing by your side. He listens intently as his eyes scan the crowd. You watch the dancers as you sober up, observing the debauchery you had just been a part of. Taehyung hums as you finish your story.

“Who is-” Taehyung doesn’t let you finish, his eyes staring at the second floor’s balcony. “You looked like you enjoyed yourself. You looked so pretty up there, with my friend’s fingers inside you. You were being such a cute little slut.” His eyes roll back inside his head and he opens his mouth sighing.

He saw you. Did the others- “Did Yoongi see?!” you pull on his arm to get him to focus on you.

“No, he didn’t, just me. My turn!”

You felt tricked, using your question up already.

He turns to face you, leaning his side against the wall. You can't help but notice how he stares at you like he’s undressing you with his eyes, gaze traveling down your body and pausing at every place your skin shows, your cleavage and your thighs. “He really worked you up, you looked so guilty when you came back,” Taehyung’s teasing tone back again, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Yoongi suspected something.”

Your eyes go wide with worry. “I’m willing to keep that secret for you if...” he bites his lip and leans in whispering, “I bet you’re still wet too. Can I have a taste?”

“R-right now?”

“Yes. That’s my turn again! And I’m waiting for my answer.” He gets closer to you, pressing up against you again, his hands brushing against your thigh. You look around, how far away are you from the crowd? How far away are you from Yoongi?

His lips brush against your temple as he leans his jaw against your forehead. “No one will see. Put your hands back on my shoulder, c’mon baby, be good for me.” His body blocks you from everyone’s view.

His head in your hair, taking a long inhale, breathing in your scent, Taehyung can’t get enough of you. Your shaky arms obey him, laying loosely on top of his broad shoulders. You lay your head on his chest, even if his words come out smooth, his heart is racing as he moves quickly between your bodies, dipping his long fingers inside you. You try to bite back a moan, but it feels too good.

Taehyung feels like he’s going to burst. You’re so wet, dripping all over his hand. He tries to fight his urges, there’s so many things he wants to do to you. Your soft whimpers sound so beautiful, so much better in person. You’re his to play with, all his.

He groans, pushing you hard against the wall. He looks like he’s going to devour you, your body tenses and you clench around his fingers. It only encourages him on. You grip his shoulders as he drives his hand upward, fingers pushing into you deeply as you fight against gravity, forced to stand on your tiptoes, struggling against him as his mouth attacks your neck, biting down hard. It’s too rough, too fast. “Tae-V-stop!”

His entire body stills against you, except for his fingers, teasing you still as they steadily press around inside your walls. You try to come to your senses, but everything about him unravels you.

He whispers against your forehead. “Last round, baby doll.” His voice raspy and breathing heavy as he holds himself back from tearing the clothes off your body. “One more question for each of us. I know where RM is, do you want to know?”

'RM,' who told you to find him, and V, who knows where. You gasp and nod your head, waiting but Taehyung smiles down at you in silence, fingers sliding out of you, making you whimper and grip the wall for support when he finally gives you space. He stays quiet as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking the wetness off his palm.

Your legs feel like jello, your body buzzes with each shameless lick as you watch him. You swallow the saliva accumulating in your mouth, pushing the lump in your throat down. You know what he wants. You played right into his trap, and the worst part is you want it too.

“Where is he?”

---

“If you think you’re going to keep her all to yourself you’re in for a rude awakening!” Jungkook grits out.

Yoongi sits quietly with his arms folded as Jungkook starts hurling accusations at him. Jin and Hoseok try to calm the youngest down, but it’s no use.

He grabs Yoongi’s collar, the action making Yoongi finally snap, and without warning Yoongi punches him squarely in the face. Yoongi had taken advantage of his friends holding Jungkook back and distracting him, satisfied when the young man recoils, stumbling back.

Before he can really lose it, Hoseok and Jimin drag Jungkook away, as the youngest screams all the ways he’s going to make Yoongi pay, not even aware of the blood leaking from his nose. Jin pulls Yoongi away in the opposite direction, “We need to talk.”

Jin walks Yoongi outside so they can both get some fresh air and clear their heads.

“He needs to learn not to disrespect his elders,” Yoongi mutters, wiping the blood off his knuckles.

“You know how he gets,” Jin counters, “Don’t act like you didn’t want that exact reaction from him. You were egging him on all night with y/n.”

Yoongi scoffs. He can’t stand how Jungkook acts like you belong with him. Jungkook is crazy. He’s too hot-headed and oversensitive, the complete opposite of Yoongi. The youngest suffers from inexperience and naivety. All that bark, and he couldn’t even bring himself to talk to you. No, Jungkook doesn’t deserve you, Yoongi thinks, he could never take care of you like Yoongi could.

“What exactly are you trying to accomplish? You brought y/n back and we’re all happy for that, but if Jungkook is right, then I’m going to have to agree with him, brother.” Jin squeezes his friend’s shoulder and Yoongi shakes him off.

“I wasn’t going to keep her locked away.” Yoongi says dismissively. Not that he didn't think once or twice about it.

“How gracious of you.”

“Listen, I found her. She chose me before and she’ll choose me again. The last time you were with her, what happened, Brother? Hobi and Jimin, Jungkook and even you can fight over her all you want. In the end, she will come back to me.”

Jin smiles, he will let Yoongi think that. “And where is your y/n now?”

“I’ll go find her,” Yoongi goes to leave, itching to get you by his side again.

Jin’s hand on his chest stops him. Jin can’t help but smile at his poor friend’s situation, he had been tricked by the two youngest, a plan they orchestrated themselves and everyone else went along with. But Jin couldn’t keep his friend in the dark any longer, especially when revealing the truth would make the aftermath that much more entertaining for Jin.

“I have to tell you something.”

---

You stand in front of the door Taehyung had led you to, your nerves on high alert. Taehyung stands behind you, humming to himself. His arm reaches over your shoulder to rapt three knocks on the door.

As the door knob turns, Taehyung exclaims behind you, “Oh! I forgot.” His long fingers cover your eyes, as he pulls your head back, your body stumbling and crashing against him.

“Taehyung!”

“Shh. Calm down, it’s more fun this way,” he whispers in your ear as you hear the door creak open.

“What do we have here?”

“I brought her for you,” Taehyung purrs. You can feel his chest puff up behind you, he’s ecstatic, you played his game so perfectly, he was so proud of you.

“Good boy.”

You feel fingers wrap around yours as Namjoon brings your hands to his lips, caressing your knuckles. “And what about you? Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

---

Jimin tends to Jungkook’s bleeding nose as Hoseok pours himself a drink. “Thanks for taking one for the team, Kookie.”

Jungkook keeps his head tilted back to stop the blood, glancing over to Hoseok, lips curving in a smile, he’s happy that he accomplished his part of the plan successfully, “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

Jimin flicks him in the forehead. “No you’re not, unless you want y/n to never forgive you.”

“She won’t,” he pouts, “she acts like she hates him. I’ll be doing her a favor.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

---

The room is quiet, too quiet compared to the raucous party outside. So when Taehyung drags a chair from the corner of the room, the wood scraping against the floor sounds all the more foreboding. Goosebumps bloom on your body as if Taehyung dragged his fingernails along your skin instead.

You sit kneeling on the floor waiting, knees tucked underneath you. RM sits on the bed behind you, legs outstretched and you between them. You stare down at his shoes, shiny black loafers, and glance at his pants legs on either side of you. It's the first time you’ve ever seen a part of him. You want to look up so badly, the idea sits heavy on you, tensing every muscle in your body as you fight your curiosity. The only thing you want more is to find out what will happen if you obey them.

Taehyung pulls the chair right in front of you, facing the bed, you and RM. Another pair of shoes brush against your knees as Taehyung takes a seat.

RM’s fingers rest atop your head and keep your head tilted down while he waits for his friend to situate himself. Until eventually RM moves behind you, fingers fisting your hair and pulling you to your feet. “Go sit on his lap.”

Taehyung sits looking at you like he's just been given first place prize, smirking pridefully as you walk towards him on shaky legs. His shirt is already unbuttoned, tan skin and taunt muscles in full view. That's V, all right. Your insides ache for him, his seduction luring you in like a firefly to light.

Your dress stretches around your thighs as you straddle him, his hands grabbing at your ass and pulling your body into his.

You hear RM’s low voice growl behind you, “Kiss him.”

For a moment you think about the intense quiet man who brought you to this island, his piercing eyes flashing through your mind until Taehyung’s lips crash into yours and you can only think about how sweet the man devouring you tastes, and you kiss him back, exploring his mouth with your tongue.

His hands grope your body, pull your face closer, force away the fabric of your clothes. His touch is everywhere, keeping you distracted only on him as RM sets things up behind you.

RM pulls off his tie as Taehyung’s hands move to either side of your face, and he pulls you away from him, leaving one last peck on your lips, “You’re doing so well, baby doll. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

“V...Taehyung, I-I’ve wanted this too.”

“Will you do what I say?” You feel RM’s hands unzip the back of your dress, the fabric lowers and exposes your chest. Taehyung’s grip on your face tightens as you’re momentarily distracted, bringing your attention back to him.

“Yes.”

“I want you to fuck RM while I watch.”

He what who?

Taehyung brings his hips up causing you to lose your balance when he senses your hesitation, his hard length rubs against your aching core, “Don’t you want to? You wanted so badly for me to take you to him, didn’t you? All you have to do is say yes.”

His thumb traces your jaw as RM lowers his black tie across your eyes. Your heartbeat races, your thighs clench around Taehyung’s legs making him moan and buck into your heat. You shudder and RM secures his tie behind your head with a tight knot.

“Tae...” your fingers tighten into the loose fabric of his shirt at your sudden loss in vision.

Taehyung clasps his hands around yours, holding your wrists together as RM presses himself against your back, and you feel ropes being wrapped around your wrists. “You’re so pretty like this, remember last time?”

You do remember. Fuck, how did you end up like this again? This is all Yoongi’s fault.

RM’s hand wraps around your neck and his deep voice speaks in your ear, “Answer him, baby girl.”

“I-I remember.” You want to cry, you want to cum, you want them to stop this torture.

“Let us make you feel good again,” Taehyung’s voice lowers even deeper than RM’s.

“I...okay.”

“You’ll let RM use you?” You nod your head, grateful you can’t see them. You let yourself hide behind the makeshift blindfold.

“Use your words, I want to hear you say it,” RM demands.

“I want you to use me,” you sit and wait, embarrassed the words left your mouth so easily. The lack of response makes your insides churn, you can’t see the way they smile at each other. If Yoongi wants to make you only his, they are just going to have to destroy you for any other man.

RM’s grip around your neck tightens, arm wrapping around your body as he lifts you off your feet. You land on the soft covers of the bed, you have no time to adjust to the drastic change of orientation before you feel harsh tugs as RM works to undress you, throwing the clothes over to Taehyung who takes his time breathing in your scent, licking the moistness from the fabric.

Namjoon pulls on the rope wrapped around your wrists placing them high above your head, his weight bears down on top of your leg as he grabs your other leg and spreads you wide. The way Taehyung moans reach your ears you suspect he has full view of your naked body. You wiggle against RM’s hold as best you can.

“Mmmm so needy and I’m not even doing anything yet.” RM’s hand leaves your wrists as he moves lower, resting his upper body on top of yours, effectively pinning your lower body down. Having full reign to play with you in this position, you feel his fingers teasing at your entrance. Your tied hands explore the expanse of his back, his shoulders so wide you can’t reach around to end his teasing, you can only moan and whimper at his slow ministrations.

“Ahh so wet,” RM massages everywhere except the place you want him most.

This is mean, this is tortuous, you’ve obeyed them and they still tease you. You cry out in frustration, clenching every time his fingers poke at your hole, RM’s grip on your thigh is too tight to move even an inch. You shove his back with your tied hands and RM laughs.

“Tae, help me out.” You feel fingers finally pressing into your aching clit, rubbing slow circles, making you cry out. RM’s fingers continue to drag across your lips, gathering the wetness that drips from your core. They slowly and steadily work the tension out of you until you’re numb with pleasure.

You let out a scream when your orgasm finally hits you. After being tortured all night, teased until you were delirious, the release becomes so intense you black out, and when you come to RM is pumping his fingers into you roughly. Your body seizes up again, racing into another orgasm. He rocks his hand into you, thumb rubbing your sensitive hood, and you release again. But RM doesn’t stop. He takes and takes, leaving you breathless. The sounds of your wetness fills the room, mixing with Taehyung’s grunts and moans at your helpless state.

“I c-can’t...too sensitive!”

“This is what you wanted, for Daddy to use you. Take it.”

Your tied hands try to move RM’s body off of you, but he is like a boulder on top of your body, unaffected by your hits. You struggle until his pleasure overtakes the pain, and you fall back, losing yourself in the way his fingers fill you up, hitting the deepest parts of you so skillfully. You stop fighting and accept the power he holds over you, he is making you feel so good you want him to take it, the thought sends you hurtling into another orgasm, tightening again around his fingers.

He can feel how close you are. “Be a good girl and give me one more,” RM groans, “that’s it.”

You’re wailing in pleasure now, unable to stop your cries. Your weak body shaking in his grasp. You feel something wet hit your outstretched thigh. Taehyung’s deep grunts of release finally undoing the coil inside you, and you orgasm for a third time around RM’s fingers.

RM lets go of you finally and you lie boneless, breathing ragged, blind and numb to the world. The air feels cool on your sweaty body as you come down from your high. You feel the bed dip as RM joins you again. Before he had been fully dressed, now you can feel his warm skin against your slippery body.

He lays himself between your legs. His lips finally meet yours, they feel full. You moan into his mouth as his tongue plays with yours. You want to touch his face but your arms are still tied together, so you caress his hair instead, the back of his neck, his muscular shoulders, trying to feel as much as you can.

His hard length brushes against your oversensitive core, his mouth swallowing your whimpers as he pushes himself in. You’re so wet there’s no resistance, but the stretch still leaves you gasping. His thrusts are hard and deep, you focus on how the weight of his body feels on top of yours as he uses you to reach his high. “You’re taking Daddy so well, baby.”

“T-Thank you, Daddy,” you stutter out between moans.

RM holds your wrists down as he finishes, releasing deep inside you. You feel every pulse from his cock, the pressure almost becoming too much as he fills you up.

You hear the familiar scrape of the chair again as Taehyung comes closer, fingers wiping away the tears on your face making you feel cared for. You don’t see how he licks your salty tears off his hand.

RM lifts your tired body in his arms, cradling you to his chest. He puts you in his lap as he takes a seat in the vacant chair.

“Tae has been such a patient boy, I think it’s time for his reward.”

RM moves your body so your back is flush against his, pulling the rope on your hands around his head, locking your arms. His hand massages up and down your legs, putting his knees in between yours.

“Kneel.” You realize RM is addressing Taehyung. He spreads his legs to make room for Taehyung, forcing your legs open in the process.

“RM-” Namjoon places his hand over your mouth, the same way he did at the party, stifling your scream as Taehyung buries his face into your pussy.

Taehyung eats you out while RM keeps you open, until you’re shaking in his lap, until you can’t form anything coherent anymore, until you’re so sensitive Taehyung’s lips around your clit is the only thought in your head, the drag of his tongue pulling away from you the last thing you feel before exhaustion sends you into the deepest sleep of your life.

---

You wake up alone.

You pull the sheets closer to your naked body as you look around the vacant room. Everything is moved back to its place, floor empty. You search the ground for your clothes but there’s nothing there. You pull yourself out of bed, trying to ignore your aching joints and pounding head. You look for your clothes but there’s nothing. You search the entire room, the closet is empty, the dresser is empty, there’s not even a towel in the bathroom. Where the hell are your clothes?!

You make your way back into bed, pulling the covers over your body.

Oh fuck, what are you going to do?

What time is it? They just left you and took your clothes. What kind of sick game is Taehyung playing now? Tears well up in your eyes.

You feel more confused than ever, Taehyung had been so sweet to you before, you had often fantasized meeting him, but he was so different in person. You hadn’t expected this. He’s going to come back, right? Right?!

You are pulled away from your thoughts at the sound of the door creaking open.

“I see you’ve been a very bad girl.” Your eyes widen as Yoongi makes his way into the room, closing the door behind him. He looks as smug as ever, holding a hanger over his shoulder.

“A-Are those my clothes?”

“Are these the clothes I gave you last night? No, looks like you fucked yourself out of those.” You pull the bedsheet closer to you, gritting your teeth, blinking away your tears.

“Yoongi...”

“Hmm?” He leans against the bedpost, the clothes hanger hanging off one finger. You want to punch him, but you know you're walking on thin ice already.

“P-please help me.”

“You lost the clothes I got you. Why should I give you more?” You can tell he’s itching to humiliate you.

“So you’re just going to leave me here naked?!” you yell at him.

His eyes narrow. He grabs the bedsheet and pulls, dragging it off your body before you can stop him. You wrap your arms around your chest and pull your legs together.

“I should, after what you did!” Yoongi screams, “Whoring yourself out to my friends. Two at the same time, enjoy yourself? Fucking slut.” His words sting you. How could you fuck up so badly, you just let yourself become overtaken by lust.

“Now look at you. You let them take advantage of you. They used you and they left you with nothing. What would you have done if I didn’t find you?” He crosses his arms, his cold eyes glaring at you.

You burst into tears. Is he right? Is that what they did to you? “I’m-s-so-sorry,” you manage to say between sobs.

He sighs, “I’m here now.” You need him, he’s going to make you see that. He moves closer, lifting your chin to look at him. “If they had taken this,” his hand brushes your choker, “I would have killed them.”

You look at him pleadingly, trying to silence your sniffles. He offers you the clothes hanger, “Change into this.”

---

You unzip the clothes bag and pull out a dress with a light flowery pattern. The fabric is sheer and flowy. The matching lingerie set is pastel pink and strappy. Well, even if he is an asshole at least you can count on Yoongi to make you look good. You clean up your makeup and style your hair as best you can in the empty bathroom, removing what's left of the smudged dark eyeshadow, pushing thoughts from last night away. The more you try to make sense of what transpired, the more confused you become, and remembering just makes you feel hot all over.

Yoongi pushes himself off the wall when you open the door.

There is still music playing, still people dancing, a lot less than the night before, but you’re amazed there are any at all.

“Does the party ever end?” you think out loud.

“Only if you want it to.”

Yoongi leads you outside. When you reach the backyard you realize the party truly never really ended, only moved. Partygoers lounge by the pool, drinking and eating.

“Is that a fucking mermaid?” Girls dressed up in tails lay about the pool, you're about to run towards them when Yoongi pulls you away from the pool. “Let’s eat before you decide to go make friends.”

You walk in step. He looks put together as always, wearing simple light clothes, a white shirt tucked into tan pants, an unbuttoned collared shirt on top.

“Is everyone here a House member?” You ask, finally sober enough to start learning some things.

“Yes, I thought it was obvious. It’s nothing official. Just a get-together after our quarterly meeting, something for our investors.”

Right, never did you just have a ‘get-together’ like this. It's annoying how out of touch they are.

You see the familiar faces of his friends sitting in a secluded area. Before you and Yoongi get within earshot he grabs your arm.

“If Taehyung and Jungkook try to touch you again, let me know, will you?”

Wait, Jungkook is RM? What? No way, that doesn’t make any sense. He can’t be, he was downstairs when you first met RM. But why does Yoongi think you fucked him? Jungkook is not RM. Though, you remember how he never spoke to you.

His grip on you tightens when you don’t answer, “Y/n…”

“Okay, okay.”

---

Jungkook watches you and Yoongi whispering to one another. You look flustered when Yoongi places a soft kiss on your cheek before breaking away.

He takes a deep breath, rubbing his temples to take the tension away. When he looks up again, Yoongi and you are walking towards the group, your eyes fixated on...him? Jungkook breaks eye contact and looks back at you...and you’re still staring at him. He keeps eye contact with you, face going redder and redder.

He watches as you greet his friends, eyes glancing his way too frequently to call it a coincidence. What the fuck did Yoongi tell you to make you look at him like he grew three heads?

---

“I’ll be right back.” Yoongi makes his way to the far end of the party where Seokjin is talking to another man. You watch as Yoongi embraces the stranger, it’s one of the few times you’ve seen Yoongi smile, not a self satisfied smirk or a threatening grin, but a genuine smile showing off his gums that make the intimidating man look actually cute. The stranger gives him a dimpled smile in return.

“Who’s that with Seokjin?” you ask Jimin.

He looks over to where you're pointing, Jimin's expression full of mirth, “That’s Namjoon, looks like he made it to the party after all.”

“Oh.”

Jimin pulls on your arm, turning you to him, “Let’s go swimming!”

“Oh, but I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“That’s okay, you can go in your underwear,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, making you giggle.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” Jimin whines as you get up, and you promise him it will only take a minute. You know you’d never get a chance to talk to Jungkook with Yoongi by your side, the two of them seem to have an odd tension between them. But now that Yoongi is distracted with Seokjin and Namjoon, it’s the perfect opportunity.

“Er hello?”

Jungkook’s wide doe eyes looks up at you. “Hello...”

Okay, he definitely doesn’t sound like RM. “Hi, I didn’t get to talk to you last night. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Oh, hi.”

“...hi.”

This is painfully awkward. You study his frame...he is built. The tank top he’s wearing shows off his broad shoulders and muscular tattooed arms, he looks strong like how you imagine RM. Maybe if you kiss him...

Jungkook watches as you peer over his back. “Dahlia…”

“Hmm? Oh, just call me y/n.” you insist, the alias making you feel self-conscious.

“I missed talking to you...so much.”

“We talked?” Is he really RM? No, it doesn’t feel like him at all.

Jungkook bites his lower lip. His front teeth pressing into his round lips makes him look cute, you think, like a scared rabbit.

“Yes, we used to talk a lot, before...” he bites back the words so he doesn’t make you uncomfortable. “My username is..” Ugh, Jungkook can’t believe he’s saying this to you out loud, why did he have to choose such a dumb username? “PlayboyJK.”

“Oh, oh! I remember you!” You remember your conversations with him. He was a good tipper, a bit unconventional in his requests, but he was always one of the first viewers to your stream.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you would watch me.”

“Why?”

“You’re just so...handsome? I’m just surprised, I guess!”

Jungkook’s ears go red at the compliment. You’re so perfect, you’re a goddess. He’d watch you all day every day, he’d watch you sleep. How could you think he wouldn’t want to watch you?

“I think you’re so beautiful, I like you a lot.”

“T-Thank you,”

“Are you going to start streaming again?

“Ha no no. I put all that behind me. Well, I thought I did,” you say after noticing Jungkook’s confused expression. “Um, it’s a long story.”

“Oh, you don’t have to join again. I could, um, pay you directly.”

“You’d pay me? For what?” you laugh, but you're curious to hear his answer.

“For anything, I’d pay you...just be with me.” you look into Jungkook’s wide eyes, so determined. Maybe if Yoongi had asked you this way, you would have considered it.

“I-HEY!” You squeal as Hoseok lifts you out of your seat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look of dismay as he pulls the younger man to his feet too.

Somehow you ended up in the pool with your dress still on. The sheer fabric doing little to hide the lingerie underneath for all the men to see.

---

The sun has already left the horizon while you sit on the deck of Yoongi’s yacht, drying off your body from the day's watery fun. You listen to the waves hit the walls of his boat as it sloshes around in the water, the rhythm like a whispering melody. The twilight casts everything in blue, the smell of salt and fresh air along with sound of the sea's waves is just so relaxing. What you wouldn't give to experience this all the time.

“Come back with me.” Yoongi's hushed voice breaks your trance.

“And be what, your personal servant?" you scoff, "I don’t think so.”

"What about those girls at the party? You could be like them, always having fun, the center of attention."

You bite your lip. "I don't want that." You wonder if Yoongi will believe you when you don't even believe yourself.

"Or I could just give you all my attention." He gets closer to you. "All this could be your life."

"Maybe I like my life-"

Yoongi laughs at you, earning himself a glare.

"Or I could just keep you here." He smirks down at you.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t dare me.”

You stop glaring at him, turning your head away. You watch the lights on the mansion turn on as the night settles in.

“Do you really want to go back to that boring job?” You roll your eyes at his words. “Don’t you want more? To have fun? I’ll give you everything you want."

"I don’t think you could give me everything."

"Just try. You can always go back, I’m sure that manager friend of yours would rehire you."

You sigh, breathing in deep the salty air.

“I would have to put in my two weeks...”

---

Hobi’s scene was fun to write, I haven’t been to parties or dancing in so long I was like what the hell happens again? Now I wanna dance! Reader who said Yoongi will throw her into the sea last chapter you made me laugh so hard I almost considered making him do that lol. I guess there’s still some time to piss him off enough! Do you believe Yoongi? What do you think (or want) to happen next? <3

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franeridart · 3 years

Text

Anon said: Do you have any more of the comics where Kiri's cat gets into Bakugo's apartment?? B being a dumbass is adorable hrnfjf

I don’t, sorry!! But the very amazing extremely skilled chonideno wrote a whole wonderful fic on it, so you can read that if you want more!! I still can’t believe she did that for me ily mag ;;;

Anon said: kirishima with......... a braid

Honestly the best thought horikoshi should get on that already 🙏

Anon said: i think... that bakugo should give kirishima a sleeby nose smooch..... as a treat.........

Anon said: hello it is i, sleeby nose kiss anon, and i want to say that kiri should also get to wear bakugo's sweatshirt. as a treat. i think he deserves it.

I think kirishima deserves anything and everything in the world and then some so honestly yes, bakugou should absolutely do that! It’d be very soft and it’d make me very happy

Anon said: your blog is a kirishima fucking goldmine thank you for your service in these dark ass times

I’m very glad you enjoy my indulging myself for the past 4+ years hahahaha the more kirishima there is in the world the better, that’s for sure 💕

Anon said: WHAT is your drawing process please reveal your secrets I am b e g g i n g you

It’s nothing complicated, honestly! I sketch out a very rough idea of what I want to draw, then line it as loosely and smoothly as I can manage, add flat colors on another layer, shadows on a multiply layer clipped on the flats one, and then adjust the light/intesity of the colors with a airbrush tool on an overlay layer - it’s really the simplest process known to human artist hahaha I posted a step by step on my patreon at some point, but maybe one day I’ll find a way to make a process video and show you guys how I do it.................... maybe if I’ll ever get to buy an ipad, that’d make my life easier

Anon said: OH MY GODYOUR VIGILANTE AU JUST-- HSJXJDJDJS THESE IDIOTS

So very glad people are still finding and liking that one! I had fun for the little it lasted, it was a very self-indulgent au haha

Anon said: Your art is honeslty the only thing keeping me going atm cause I'm going through a tough time rn and your kiribaku art just 🥰🥰🥰 also what program do you use?? I've cycled through so many and I cannot for the life of me find a good one

Thank you so much! I use easy pain tool sai, which is the easiest, most simple program I could find since I’m easily overwhelmed by too complicated things lol it’s got its shortcomings but it works perfectly for the little I have to do :D

Anon said: so i, like, keep going back and reading and re-reading that really long kiribaku comic (the one where kiri won't let baku kiss him) and everything about it makes me happy!! like, your art is already such a delight to look at but you also write them so well and it makes my heart feel all bright and happy and that comic feels like a culmination of all of that and i just feel like '!!!!!!!' everytime

Oh god I nearly forgot about that one, I loved that comic! Had so much fun making it and it was so satisfying to post it 😭😭 I’m happy you still like it and go look at it!! feels very very good to know, thank you! ;;; <3

Anon said: you draw touches, like hugs and stuff, and remind me that i'm a bit touch-starved and i honestly can't say i regret it

Sorry I hope this means that you don’t regret looking at my art even if it reminds you of being touch-starved because I’m!!!! glad to hear that??? though I really hope you’ll get to be hugged soon, anon! ;;;;

Anon said:For some of your black/white art (lineart), do you mind if people color it with proper credit?I like to color manga panels, and I really like your art, so, along with crediting you, is it okay if I color your peices?

I’m not a hundred per cent opposed to it, but I’d prefer it if you could ask before doing so telling me specifically which piece we’re talking about! Cause there’s a couple I’d prefer didn’t get reposted in any form or way, after all ;;

Anon said: I was looking through the jujutsu kaisen tag and found you and looked through some of your recent art and I was about to follow you and then I realized I already followed you for your bnha stuff

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! glad to hear I could make you want to follow me twice over, then!!! 😁

Anon said: Reminder to drink water and relax, overworking yourself isn’t healthy and we all need time to wind down!

Anon thank you!!!!!!!! The same goes to you, take care of yourself!! <3

Anon said: you are the light by nine lashes has me feeling kiribaku feelings and i have not a single person around me who i can tell ;n;

OHHHHHHHHHHHHH I absolutely do know the feel, please feel free to come cry about them in my inbox whenever you’d like anon ( TT^TT)9

Anon said: Could you do a tutorial on lineart? Yours is so clean I’m jealous

It’s not like I don’t want to, it’s just that there’s very little to it I could actually make a tutorial about? I try to keep my sketches vague and simple to not trap myself in the need to make the line look exactly identical to the sketch, and I try to keep my lines as long and uninterrupted as possible, let my hand kind of go the way it feels most comfortable to it if that makes sense, and I use ctrl+z A Lot to be sure the line flows the way I want it to in the direction I want it to go, and that’s honestly all there is to it! It’s not really about technique as much as it is about letting yourself keep as loose and fast as possible while putting down the lines, I really have no idea how else to explain it I’m sorry m(._.)m

Anon said: Sorry if this is an overasked question, but... what are your pronouns? I don’t wanna misgender you -.-

she/her! and don’t worry, you asking is no bother :D

Anon said: can ppl send, like, random hcs or thoughts to you? not like, drawing requests, you don't take those i know, but just because?

Hell yeah, please do!! I love to hear thoughts and headcanons, it makes my own creativity itch to get to work!!

#fran answers #i woke up the other day with eight new asks and i had a little heart attack thinking something had happened LMAO #it was just a lot of love though sob thank you sm <3<3<3

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nostalgiaruinedme · 3 years

Note

Hey I love your fics and writing style and well since I've been meaning to start writing fics I wanted to ask you if you have some advice you'd give.

Ohhh advice? Sure, I can do that! I shall bestow all of my knowledge upon you now, but you gotta look below the cut. Shhhh, it's a secret~

Okay really I just knew this was going to be a really long post and didn't want to clog up everyone's dash lol. ONTO WRITING ADVICE

I kind of live by these rules in writing:

1. Know the rules before you break them 2. ANYTHING can be inspiration 3. Remember the doll 4. Use your resources 5. Don’t hold yourself back 6. Practice 7. Enjoy yourself!!

1. Know the rules before you break them

Pay attention in English class (or whichever class for the language you're writing in) and learn the grammar!! I don't always have perfect grammar in my fics and sometimes I consciously choose to ignore grammar rules to make it more impactful, but you HAVE to know the rules before you break them. Study those grammar lessons! Learn how to use the fun punctuation, like semi colons and em dashes and en dashes and all that good stuff. I know they're scary, but they're a lot of fun too.

ALSO PLEASE USE PARAGRAPH BREAKS IM BEGGING that's like, a HUGE problem I see with a lot of new writers. Paragraph breaks are not optional!! Change 'em when the main topic of the paragraph switches or when a new character is speaking. Overdoing it with paragraph breaks is better than underdoing it, I promise.

2. ANYTHING can be inspiration

Have you ever played Story Cubes?

If you haven’t, it’s essentially this game where you roll the cubes, they each land on a different image, and you gotta tell a story that uses all of those pictures. Some are literally just a question mark or a speech bubble and that’s what you have to use. Me and my siblings used to play the game a lot. And you know what? Some of those stories are the most creative ones we’ve ever come up with. When I say anything can be inspiration for a story or a character, I mean ANYTHING!

I based my Donnie design off of the vintage globes and journals I have in my bedroom.

My little sister threw a pillow at me and it inspired a funny scene I wanted to write in another fic

I designed two OCs off of Mars and Pluto and an ENTIRE 40,000 word fanfiction based off of a space documentary I watched

My NaNoWriMo story last year was based off of the concept of shadows and how cool I thought it’d be if they could talk

Me and my friend made an entire dystopian original story commenting on our world today. It was first inspired by a crack self insert Death Note RP we had at 13 years old. Not kidding.

Literally anything can be inspiration. Challenge your mind!! The best ideas come out of completely ordinary and unexpected opportunities, in my experience. You don’t need one of those super detailed and crazy expensive prompt books (though they are fun) to write a great story. Use music, use a color, use the sky, use your favorite food, use anything! Just find inspiration!

3. Remember the Doll

Remember Mulan?

We never got to see the Huns destroy the village and we didn’t get to see them kill anyone there either. But by showing that doll there, the animators took an entire battle full of death and destruction and summed it all up in one, heartbreaking moment. You don’t need to spend ten pages writing about how horrifying the bad guy was and listing everything he did from start to finish, nor do you need to write an analysis on why she’s bad. All you need to do is show one or two very meaningful ways they impacted the world... and you can do that with something as simple as a doll lying on the ground in a burning village.

Because the doll is there; the little girl is not.

There’s a quote that sums this up really well, and I have it written on the dry erase board by my desk.

“You don't write about the horrors of war. No. You write about a kid's burnt socks lying in the road.” - Richard Price

And adding onto that, try to write more about what’s there, not what isn’t. Mulan didn’t say ANYTHING about the girl in that scene, but by showing what was there, it told us a story about what wasn’t. Focus on what is in the scene and it will tell your reader about what isn’t.

I do think writing a balance is good though, so I try and keep it around a 3/1 ratio of what is there vs what isn’t. Remember this is art though, not math; you can change the formula as you please just to make it feel right. It all depends on the scene and what you want.

4. Use Your Resources

You know how, in the artist community, there’s this sort of stigma around using references? And some artists have to make posts reminding others that there’s nothing wrong with using references and you even should use them?

It’s the same concept in writing!

There is NOTHING wrong with looking to other writers’ work or keep a thesaurus constantly open or bookmarking a reference page of other words to use than “said”. Nothing wrong with it at all! When I write, I always have two tabs open: my writing document and thesaurus.com. I have a folder on my computer bookmarks of ways to describe a smile and a body language dictionary. Before I write fanfic, I watch a “best moments of *character*” compilation video on Youtube to remind myself of how they speak. I watch fight scenes from The 100 or Avatar or Marvel while I write my own battles!

There are SO MANY resources out there for you to reference. Use them! And if you need some to start with, shoot me an ask. I have a ton.

5. Don’t Hold Yourself Back

One of the scariest parts of writing is the thought of “what will people think?” Creative writing is EXTREMELY personal, and you’re going to find a lot of you inside your work, including the thoughts you didn’t want anyone to know about.

People will discover how often you think about love. People will discover how dark your mind can get. People will discover the morals you hold that even you didn’t know about. They’ll discover that the person you swore you’ve moved on from is still on your mind. They’ll discover that the pain you swore you got over still hurts you.

“you can tell the deepest truths with the lies of fiction” - Isabel Allende

This thought scared me a lot, and still does. I’ve let go of and forgotten about so many story ideas because they were just a little too personal. I could write it and not publish it, but what if someone still sees? Writing, like all art, comes right from the heart and reveals a lot about a person. That paranoia of being known kept me from writing so much.

But I promise you, your most powerful stories are going to be the most personal ones.

I wrote Hated Resemblance based on my thoughts about myself, and I wrote Dagger From the Mirror based on thoughts about myself too. A lot of it is dark, most is painful, and all of it is scary to show the world. But I wrote it anyways and it’s created something pretty amazing.

Hell, even now I’m wondering if I should post that lil anecdote, but I think it’s the best way to make this part of my point stronger. See? Writing about things that affect you is the best way to make them impactful, even for something as simple as advice.

And even if you want to write about light and happy stories- you’re still going to have to get personal.

This all got pretty deep but my point is this: Don’t hold yourself back. Write what you feel you need to and it don’t worry about what anyone will think. Don’t hide that one sentence because you’re scared who will read it because you’re scared to be known so deeply. Add it in even when it’s scary.

That’s something I’m still learning how to do, and it’s a slow process that has taken years... but it’s worth it, I promise.

“Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.” - Natalie Goldberg

6. Practice

I started writing in 1st grade. I’ve written regularly since then, and this is my word count every month this year:

Most of that is fanfiction. Some are just random thoughts, some are really thought out posts or answers to your questions, and some are made up of original stories. That total words written number is since November.

You don’t have to write this much every month, I promise, I just don’t really have any other hobbies lol. My point is that practice is really really really important. Write a paragraph or even just a sentence every day. You’re gonna improve so quickly, I promise.

“Write every day. Writing is a muscle that gets stronger with use.” - Abbi Glines

But take breaks too!!! Don’t overwork yourself. Burn out is a real thing and you shouldn’t force yourself to write just because you’re scared you don’t write enough! Write at a pace that’s comfortable for you. There will always be writers out there who write more than you and even more writers who write less than you. That’s okay. Everyone has a pace they’re comfortable with, and you just gotta find yours. As long as you’re writing consistently, the numbers don’t matter too much. 50 words a day or 5000 are both good!

7. Enjoy Yourself!!

You’re here to have fun!

No matter what you’re writing (angst, romance, fix-it, AUs, hurt/comfort, fluff, ANYTHING), remember that fic writing is supposed to be fun!! You’re not getting paid to do this. On one hand, that sucks, but on the other hand it gives you the amazing opportunity to write literally whatever you want! Find projects you’re enthusiastic about, meet other writers, do collabs, make playlists for your story, create over powered OCs for the hell of it, ignore plot holes and write without regard to canon, or write the most realistic and in-depth canon-compliant book ever. Create the most self indulgent story you can think of!

Have fun. This is your story and you get to write the rules. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.

Oh yeah, and one more thing. Be proud of yourself. You can get all of the comments and feedback in the world, but if you’re not proud of what you wrote, it’s gonna be hard to look back on it with joy. Be proud no matter how many reads it gets—you made it!

“I think I did pretty well, considering I started out with nothing but a bunch of blank paper.” - Steve Martin

#can you tell I like writing quotes #I have a whole pinterest board full of them #asks #writing advice #writblr #fanfiction #meg rambles

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cyanoscarlet · 3 years

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2020 writing review

Thanks for the tag, @gladiowrites! (I know it’s not a tag, but this is fun to do lol)

I.. honestly wrote a lot this 2020. No kidding. Quarantine productivity was real, but so is residency languishing by the wayside while everyone was busy surviving and adjusting. I highly doubt 2021 will be the same, but I’ll always cherish 2020 just because of the writing and nothing else.

This is gonna be long.

FIRST CREATION + MOST RECENT CREATION OF 2020

8:15 am - Final Fantasy XV. Lunafreya. February 2020. - First piece ever written for the year. - Intended to be a Luna-centric AU, in which the Nox Fleurets were deposed and she’s now a regular teacher. Never managed to write anything beyond that, though, because residency. (Back then, I didn’t know it was gonna be the beginning of the end, so I had hopes. Oh well.)

irresistible!, or the summer ramblings of nene yashiro and everything that followed - Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun. Nene, Hanako. March 2020. - First one published on AO3 for 2020 (yes, there’s a distinction). - If you think the title sounds familiar, you’re right.

versus

first yuletide - Final Fantasy XV. Nyx. December 2020. - Written for the FFXV Secret Santa event on Twitter. - Before y’all object and say what unwinding is, that’s an old fic uploaded late.

ONE OF YOUR FAVORITE CREATIONS FROM 2020

Do I seriously have to choose? Omg.

take heart - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai/Chuuya. Gods/Humans AU. - Discovered so much about myself writing this. Also (hopefully) I managed to get into Dazai’s headspace correctly. He’s an extremely difficult character to write, so finishing this brought so much gratification.

you don’t raise heroes, you raise sons - Final Fantasy VIII. Laguna, Squall. Post-canon. - Probably my most heartfelt work of the year- scratch that, ever. Also happy with how I just let myself go writing this and didn’t need to think twice.

A CREATION YOU’RE REALLY PROUD OF

oneiric moments (or, five nights with you) - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai/Chuuya. - Written for the SKK Fic Exchange for Summer 2020. - Five interconnected fics. 18,985 words. - Might not be a big deal for others, but this was taxing because I don’t usually write long, multichaptered stuff. I got carried away, though. It ain’t as well-polished as my more recent stuff, but I’m proud of myself for pulling this off.

A NEW STYLE YOU TRIED THIS YEAR & A FIC THAT USES IT

I... don’t think I have tried anything of the sort. My repertoire is sorely limited compared to others, I’m afraid. I’d probably have an answer for “explored new themes,” but again, I’ve a limited arsenal, too, in that regard.

A CREATION THAT TOOK YOU FOREVER

all in a day’s work - Bungou Stray Dogs. Atsushi, Akutagawa. Cells at Work AU. - It’s still being written, with a lot of side stories planned but never drafted. - I fell out of love with BSD, recovered from that, then got busy with residency.

YOUR CREATION FROM 2020 THAT RECEIVED THE MOST NOTES KUDOS

Also take heart. While I am proud of it, I guess it hit the right spot for mainstream shippers, too, somewhat? My feelings about mainstream things have changed a lot because of things, but I am still happy.

A CREATION YOU THINK DESERVED MORE NOTES KUDOS

amīcitia - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai, Chuuya. Final Fantasy XV AU. - Petty indignancy for my self-indulgent baby aside, I’m also proud of how I wrote Dazai in this one, similar to take heart. the fun they had - Bungou Stray Dogs. Kajii, Port Mafia Ensemble. - ... Guys. Please notice genfics.

A NEW FANDOM YOU JOINED AND A CREATION YOU MADE FOR IT

Everything I wrote for Bungou Stray Dogs. (I kid you not.)

If you want a single answer anyway:

on the flaming mountains - act-age. Chiyoko, Kei. Princess Iron Fan Arc. - arc words: “what shall i do with this ire?” - I wouldn’t really say I “left” the fandom, more like it fizzled out after Matsuki-sensei got arrested.

A CREATION YOU MADE THAT BREAKS YOUR HEART

a cycle of; - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai/Chuuya. Medico-legal AU. - Written out of much anger and frustration over things. Also because this in itself was frustrating to write.

Also you don’t raise heroes, you raise sons. Because no matter how much I hate my family at so many points in my life, I know I can’t truly hate them from the bottom of my heart. This fic is a reminder of that.

A SIMPLE CREATION THAT YOU REALLY LOVE

express delivery for love - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai/Chuuya. Real World Quarantine AU. - It’s funny. It’s orthodox. It’s sweet. I don’t think it can get any better than that.

A CREATION THAT WAS INSPIRED BY ANOTHER ONE

rather be - Bungou Stray Dogs. Yosano. Pre-canon. - Inspired by yesterday is another world by @wctercress - The whole of primum non nocere, actually, but specifically this one, and the rest followed. - This is also my first BSD fic. Ever.

A FAVORITE CREATION CREATED BY SOMEONE ELSE

... You sure? There’s a lot, and this is just on the surface. (unleashes the proverbial waterfall)

The aforementioned yesterday is another world by @wctercress

silencer and snow white days by EKmisao - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai, Chuuya. Dead Apple canon-divergent. - The aftermath of Dead Apple, in which one of two goes wrong. - They’re unrelated, I know. But they’re both sisters! Just trust me on this. - The proper entry for this would be silencer, but I can’t very well mention one without the other, so have both anyway. I read both only this year, after all. Waiting for Godot by @eternal-aegis - Bungou Stray Dogs. Dazai, Fyodor, Chuuya. Canon-divergent. - Amazing theme, amazing philosophy, amazing writing. It makes you think. It makes you analyze and explore. This writer definitely knows her stuff, and it shows. Catharsis by @gladiowrites - Final Fantasy VIII. Rinoa, Gen. Caraway. Post-canon. - The denouement to the Caraway family drama we all deserve. I love how Rinoa is presented in this fic. She’s a normal person who makes mistakes and learns her lessons. So is Fury. Burned bridges don’t always have to stay down, and this fic illustrates that wonderfully.

Culmination by @gladiowrites - Final Fantasy VIII. Squall, Rinoa. Post-canon. - We can’t all have happy endings. This fic also illustrates that very well. While I, a Squinoa fan, personally ascribe to the happy ending Squall and Rinoa must have had after the events of FF8, this fic is so compelling and grounded and reflective and I totally buy this.

Here Without You by @muselover1901 - Akagami no Shirayuki-hime. Zen/Shirayuki. Real world quarantine AU. - One of the sweetest stories I’ve ever read this year. I can definitely relate to a lot of things in this fic. I’ve been rereading all of Muse’s ANS stuff whenever I feel down, and they all hit the spot.

Savor The Moment by @joeys-piano - Bungou Stray Dogs. Oda. Pre-canon. - Yes, yes, YES. One of the best stories I’ve ever read this year, ever. (And I mean stories, not fanfics.) Great character study about a man named Oda and a day in his life and a page (or three) out of his book of relationships. The love poured into this is simply overflowing and precious. I’ve been following Joey since this fic was being written, and I’m so proud of him.

False Equivalences by @slowquotesquill - Dai Gyakuten Saiban. Asougi, Ryuunosuke. Fullmetal Alchemist AU. - This fic also! Oh, My Heart. The cynicism of a state alchemist and the optimism of a foreign doctor. It perfectly hits the spot for everything FMA, and we all know that SQQ’s Asouryuu fics are always to die for. It’s the ultimate combo.

The whole Promptober Leo/Will/Despair series by @eternal-aegis - Kekkai Sensen. Various themes, many of which are dark/mature. - I’ve said this with Waiting for Godot, and I’ll say it again: Aegis knows her stuff. This is her exploring further in that direction, and you can feel the improvement with every fic in the series. I really love how adventurous these stories are, and how much depth you can go with every one. Her characterization is layered and exquisite, and the underlying lore is well-thought-out. - tl;dr: B3 Goddess.

Predestined by Galkimasera - Final Fantasy VIII. Rinoa, Squall. Reverse/Fateswap AU. - A very well-written reverse AU! The circumstances of Squall and Rinoa in this ‘verse fit so well and are so well thought out. I love this AU so much, you don’t even know. It also fills my nostalgic shipper’s heart with much joy at seeing quality content in this Year of our Lord 2020.

For auld lang syne, my dear by @by-nina - Fullmetal Alchemist. Roy, Riza. Canon-compliant + post-canon. - Holiday feels, snapshots through time, and all over showing Roy and Riza’s budding relationship over the years. And it does remind me of a lot of the SKK fics I’ve written (thematic-wise). This was such a treat to read and to follow. All her FMA fics are. She does Royai so much justice. Am not yet finished reading smoke without fire, but I’ll get to that, too!

SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE CONTENT CREATORS FROM THIS YEAR

Everyone in the answer above. There’s honestly a whole boatload of more, but this is getting too long already lololol

(might edit this when I feel like it, tho!)

#cyanospeaks #dani has been tagged #2020 in review

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rosenbergh · 4 years

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Attic slumber parties

I wrote a fic based on this post by @dashuisofanubis because I have no self restraint lmao

Summary: Noa has nightmares and doesn’t feel safe in her room after the events in the season two finale. Solution? Attic slumber parties which keep getting bigger.

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So here’s the thing: when you’re minding your own business in your room and then someone you were supposed to be able to trust shows up, chloroforms you, kidnaps you, and wants to use you for a ritual along with her partner in crime (another person you were supposed to be able to trust!)—that’s kind of a hard thing to get over.

When it gets revealed that you’re an Egyptian princess, well, that’s something that requires some processing, too. Noa had her suspicions, of course, but to get it confirmed like that with a disgusting piece of skin in a baggie was…something else.

The whole ‘holding the grail up to save Jeroen from getting killed despite not knowing if she would survive the ritual’ thing was probably the worst of it.

But she’s dealing with it! It’s over, done, it happened. Wolf, or Raven, or whatever he wants to call himself, is gone and so is Vera. She prefers to focus on the positives, just forget the whole thing entirely and move on.

At least, that was the plan. When she’s back in her room in the attic, she gets this sick twinge in her stomach. Noa staunchly ignores it and crawls in her bed to go to sleep. The ghost is gone, too (the ghost that is her ancestor, because her life wasn’t crazy enough already), so she has all the peace she needs for a good night’s sleep.

She dreams about being in her room, a place that was supposed to be hers and safe, but Vera and Wolf are there. They sneer and laugh and mock her, you’re not Noa, you’re Fazia, and there’s rope around her wrists, and they’re in the tower—Raven is about to kill Jeroen so she holds up the grail despite his pleas to the contrary, except she doesn’t have the grail, it’s gone, and Raven and Vera are so angry—

She wakes up on the floor, her cheeks wet. “But I love you,” she’s saying. “But I love you.”

Disoriented, she looks around, and concludes she must have fallen out of bed. The dream is over, it wasn’t real. In reality, everything turned out okay, but she still doesn’t feel safe.

Eventually, she goes back to bed and cries herself to sleep.

The morning after her nightmare, she sees the bags under her eyes that she saw in the mirror reflected in Jeroen’s. She doesn’t need to ask to know that he had a nightmare, too. He doesn’t ask, either. Both of them know.

Amber, on the other hand, is well-rested and very concerned in that Amber way of hers. She asks if she’s okay, to which Noa replies yes.

“Are you sure?” Amber asks, her perfectly epilated eyebrows resting in a frown. “You look tired. Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” she lies. “I’m just tired because of everything that happened.”

She still doesn’t look satisfied. “Okay, but if something is up, you can always tell me. You know that, right?”

“Of course, Amber,” Noa says. “Thank you.”

The next evening, when she goes up to her room, Jeroen joins her under the guise of watching their favorite horror movies together. It’s very reminiscent of the first time they watched a movie together, except this time when they fall asleep in her bed, it’s deliberate.

Raven and Vera are gone but she’s still the ‘chosen one’, like she’s some overglorified unicorn instead of a human being, and what if there are other rituals that have to involve her? Other people that need her? The possibility of opening the door in her room to another Vera with more chloroform is not an irrational fear and she thinks that, actually, that’s the worst part.

It’s the worst of worst parts, and she dreams about people she trusts like she used to trust Vera and Wolf showing up in her room and the whole mess happening all over again, until she’s gasping awake.

“Whoa,” Jeroen says, steadying, like it’s not weird that they’re both awake at—she blearily glances at the clock—four in the morning. “It’s okay, you’re fine, you’re fine, Noa.”

She’s silent and just breathes while he rubs her arms like he’s trying to soothe the dream away.

“Sorry,” she says when she can’t take the silence anymore.

“For what?”

“Waking you up.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I was already awake.”

She looks at him as best as she can in the dark room, concerned. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you?” he counters, which, well, she really doesn’t.

Still, despite herself, she confesses, “I’m scared.”

He’s running his fingers through her hair lightly, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“It’s okay,” he says again, like if he says it enough times it’ll be true. “It’s okay.”

They spend the next couple of nights like that, always careful to make sure Victor doesn’t catch him going to the attic at night. It doesn’t always stop the nightmares, but not being alone in her room helps.

“That smells godly,” Appie says, walking into the kitchen excitedly. “What is it? When is it done?”

Trudie gives him a reproachful look while Noa crouches down to put the batter in the oven.

“You’ll have to wait until after dinner to find out,” says Trudie.

Noa stands up again and gives him a smile. “I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

“Something baked by Trudie and Noa? I don’t doubt it.” He smiles back dreamily. “My taste buds thank you in advance.”

She laughs and Trudie exits the kitchen to start cleaning elsewhere.

“So, Noa,” Appie starts nonchalantly once they’re alone. “I couldn’t help but notice Jeroen’s bed has been empty these past few nights.”

“You noticed that, did you? Your powers of observation are out of this world.”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “So, what are you crazy kids up to at night? Slumber parties? Ghost hunting?” He does a dramatic gasp, and whispers, “Karaoke?"

“No,” she says sweetly. “Sleeping.”

He frowns. “Well, that’s boring.”

“Tell you what, next time you can join us and liven things up, how does that sound?”

His eyes light up. “Yes, that’s a great idea! I told you, everyone needs a bed Ap. Without one, life is just too sad.”

“Okay, Appie,” she says, humoring him.

She’s sure he’s joking, right up until the moment when not just Jeroen shows up in her room that evening, but Appie as well.

When Appie makes himself comfortable and is clearly gearing up for some shenanigans, she sternly tells him she just wants to sleep.

“Okay,” he says. “So I guess you don’t want to hear about the time Jeroen stripped in front of a teacher.”

Jeroen’s eyes go wide.

“Tell me,” Noa urges, curious, ignoring Jeroen’s protests while Appie gleefully launches into the story.

They spend the rest of the night like that, telling ridiculous stories until they fall asleep. Not a single one of them have a nightmare.

The thing is, once Appie starts extending his nightly visits to more than just one time, Amber starts noticing it. And wants in. It’s really hard to say no to Amber when she’s determined, so Noa resigns herself to having three extra people sleep in her room.

It’s way too rowdy an environment for falling asleep in, and if they make more noise Victor’s gonna hear them, but when Noa laughs at Appie’s Victor impression, she doesn’t mind it so much.

“The last time I used my Victor impression, it was to con ourselves a bad replacement of Trudie. It backfired, though.”

Amber shudders next to Noa. “Don’t remind me of that.”

All four of them are in Noa’s bed, and it’s a really tight fit, but she can’t bring herself to demote them to a sleeping bag or chair this time, not when their prescence makes her forget the reason she doesn’t want to be alone in this room.

“Replacement?” Noa asks, confused.

They explain that Trudie had been fired, and as a result things at the house had gotten very unpleasant.

“He built a fence?” she repeats shrilly, before quickly lowering her voice. They’re at the attic, but there is a limit to the amount of sound they can make if they don’t want to get caught. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it was big and blocked the stairs to the first floor completely,” Jeroen confirms.

“And if we didn’t get up at a ridiculously early hour, we didn’t get to eat breakfast!” Amber says, still sounding incredulous about it. “I ended up fainting in class because I was so hungry.”

“So what changed? Why was Trudie allowed to come back?”

“Mick’s father pretty much saved the day,” says Appie.

Noa changes the subject, because the thought of big fences blocking her way out of the house gives her an icky feeling in her stomach. “Hey, Amber, I noticed you were wearing a new dress today. It’s really pretty.”

Amber looks extremely flattered. “Thank you! Finally, someone who can appreciate good taste.”

Appie and Jeroen exchange looks and eyerolls at the direction the conversation is going, but both are smiling.

“I think the clothes you wear are really pretty, too!” Amber continues, excited. “We should go shopping together sometime.”

“I’d like that,” she says. “I don’t always buy my dresses, though. Sometimes, if I have the time and fabric, I make them myself.”

“Really?” Amber looks at her with wide eyes. “I wish I could do that!”

“I could teach you,” she offers.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m not really great with that sort of stuff,” she rambles. “I’m more of a ‘buy the most pretty looking stuff with my dad’s credit card’ type of girl.”

“Nonsense. Everyone can learn how to do it. You’ve already got the style, you just need the skills.”

Amber looks like she just handed her the moon. It makes Noa smile.

“Okay, as interesting as all of this is, I think it’s time we talked about what’s really important: horror.”

“No, Ap, I’ll get nightmares,” Amber protests.

“Well, then what else is there to talk about?”

“Something all of us can talk about,” Jeroen adds.

All are silent for a moment, before Amber perks up. “I’ve got it! We can play truth or dare.”

Appie grins. “Okay, but if it ends with Jeroen and Noa kissing again, I’m out of here.”

“This is getting ridiculous,” Noa informs them the next night while Nienke gets in the bed right next to Amber. Appie follows.

Fabian stands next to the bed, uncertain. “I don’t think I’ll fit. I can sleep in the chair.”

“You can fit, come on, just try it,” Nienke says.

“No, I agree with Noa,” says Jeroen. “This is getting way too cramped.”

“Well, then, why don’t you sleep in the chair?” Amber asks, sickly sweet. “And then Fabian can join us.”

Jeroen is silent and doesn’t move from his position, lying on the edge next to Noa. Next to Noa is Amber, then Nienke, and then on the other edge is Appie.

“That’s what I thought,” Amber says smugly to Jeroen.

Fabian smiles at them like they’re crazy and Noa is starting to think the same thing, but he gets in the bed next to Appie nonetheless.

It’s tight and Noa can barely move, yet somehow, when she falls asleep, it’s the best sleep she’s had in weeks.

(The next time she’s alone in her room, she doesn’t feel a sick twinge in her stomach. There’s the memory of getting ambushed by Vera, but there’s also countless of memories of sleepovers, and she chooses to focus on those—she feels safe again.)

#het huis anubis #noa van rijn #my post #hha fic

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uraharashouten · 4 years

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@deivorous said:

What does Kisuke's inner world look like? Did it change substantially after he artificially manipulated Benihime?

First of all, thank you from the bottom of my heart for this ask, because it was high time I wrote an inner world masterpost. It’s taken me some time to compose my thoughts on this, not because I hadn’t arrived at a good working knowledge of Kisuke’s inner world, but because of the second part of your question -- did it change?

It’s worthwhile to remind ourselves of how Kisuke forced his bankai without Benihime’s consent. There’s an excellent post on how he quite possibly perverted her powers in the process; or at least, their aesthetic. Personally, I’ve always imagined her as being a little passive-aggressive towards him on account of it as well -- though they are, after all, two sides of the same soul.

So let me begin with the first part -- his inner world. I have to say, first off, that several things have fed into my headcanons, so I’ll just take you on that journey.

First of all, my starting point was heavily influenced by @saranel’s fiction Mono no Aware; specifically, the fact that at the center of Kisuke’s inner world there stands a maple tree. And that’s actually a good starting point, since Benihime is actually the name of a variety of maple:

Considering how profoundly the Shihōin -- one clan member in particular -- influenced him from the time of his youth, the maple theme was something with which I was on board (四楓院家 meaning House of the Four Maples).

The tree itself also became, for me, a good way to symbolize branching possibilities. In probability theory, a tree diagram may be used to represent a series of independent events or conditional probabilities. Each node on the diagram represents an event and is associated with the probability of that event, and the diagram branches into likely outcomes of each event. Imagining a thousand different possible outcomes is canonically his gift, and I think it’s wonderfully illustrated in this post.

I have always seen Urahara Kisuke as someone with a fluid, flexible mind, infinitely resourceful, a bricoleur of materials and opportunities around him; and his inner world would reflect that, being a place of constant making, un-making, and re-making.

@saranel, incidentally, wrote her magnum opus long before Chapter 665, which makes her surprisingly prescient with what she imagined for Kisuke’s bankai. She didn’t guess it exactly, but she got enough right. This passage from her fic’s chapter notes are relevant to Kisuke’s inner world:

So in the bankai entry, I liken Kisuke's bankai to the universe and the way it works. The idea behind his inner world is somewhat similar. The first time he manages to enter it, he is originally lost in this vast, endless darkness. As soon as he has mastered his fear, he finds himself in a solitary island of sorts, where a large maple tree dominates the small area. When he tries to gain some distance and explore further, he discovers he is unable to go far, walking in place while never managing to escape the confines of that small island. This was all meant to be a reference to the beginning of the universe, wherein everything was said to exist in an infinitely condensed form, until the event we know as the Big Bang, which caused that extremely condensed piece of matter to explode, its pieces scattering and forming our known universe.

I’ve kept the maple tree and the Big Bang (countless possibilities encapsulated, waiting to be expanded), and I’ve built upon these ideas for my own headcanons.

The tree itself varies in appearance. Acer palmatum ‘Beni hime’ are actually a dwarf maple tree variety, but in Kisuke’s inner world the tree can grow huge, taking over the entire sky. Depending on his current mood or circumstances, it may be covered with the verdant, tender leaves of spring, or the colorful red-hued leaves of full summer, or the branches may be barren and forlorn. it may be thriving or desolate. Here’s an excerpt describing it from my Battle in the Inner World thread with @sphaeraa:

Benihime smiled beatifically and gazed upward toward the spreading maple.

Initially actual scale, it had grown, stretching its branches far and wide across the ceiling-sky; their thickness waning with each division, yet never seeming to reach a visible termination.

“Do you like our Probability Tree?” asked a Kisuke, from somewhere off to the left.

“I thought we were calling it our Tree of Branching Possibilities,” commented the Princess, wryly. “It is more poetic.”

Threadwork is part of Benihime’s aesthetic; whether putting the sutures on a surgical revision or pulling the strings to manipulate an outcome. In peaceful moments, Benihime herself can be found sitting beneath the maple tree, working on her embroidery. She’s never satisfied with it, always getting so far with it before plucking out the stitches and beginning again. I discussed this headcanon quite awhile back with a Benihime roleplayer, who wrote about it beautifully.

Here’s another description from this thread with @adelha-mathilde:

The tree. That tree, larger than any maple he imagined he might ever see in the flesh. It stood in the center of his world, a constant amidst constant change. Oh, not that the tree was ever the same; it was spring or it was fall, it was young and tender or old and stately. Sometimes its branches spread the entire breadth of the sky. Sometimes they were laden with moss; other times with snow. They were black and bare or tan and laden with verdant leaves, or auburn. But always it was there; always she waited beneath it, nimble jointed fingers pushing the bone-needle through the weave of her embroidery, which, too, was always the same and yet never the same. She bathed in its shadow and when he visited her there, he did, too. It was their tree.

As to the world itself, the landscape around the tree is constantly shifting and changing, such that a visitor would feel very disoriented. Again, from that aforementioned thread with @sphaeraa, here’s a descriptive excerpt:

The dark-haired, regal figure shot him an unreadable glance and squared her shoulders. As she did so, the room, which resembled a cluttered spare room, grew to accommodate her increasing stature. Crates and furniture unfolded and reorganized proportionally to the change in space. The ceiling overhead became bright blue sky, then star-specked night, then ceiling again. She glanced at her feet, and the pattern and color of the rug beneath them rippled and shifted. Her embroidery lay, unfinished – forever unfinished – on a table in the corner. She glanced at it with a sigh of dissatisfaction. That would have to wait. Books rearranged themselves on shelves; in alphabetical order, then by color, then by size. Behind her stood the only constant, if such it could be called – a large, spreading maple. Its branches were, at the moment, laden with leaves of a healthy deep red hue – clearly thriving. It had not always been so, and likely would not be, but now it was in its prime.

And now, as to the question of whether this inner world has changed due to Urahara Kisuke’s manipulations of Benihime: yes and no, and here’s why. Ichigo’s world is the only one we get to see in the Bleach canon, and we see how it changes due to his developing understanding of himself and his zanpakutou. It is, however, true that Ichigo’s zanpakutou is a very special case. And for any other shinigami, that spirit is inexorably bound to the soul, a product of it, the id, if you will, as @nightbeat-cat mentioned to me in a recent discussion. Kisuke has always been who he is, and so has his zanapkautou, and thus so has his inner world -- but that world itself has always been a very mutable place, a place of mono no aware where there is no permanence. As I’ve mentioned, it’s a constantly-shifting landscape to reflect a shifty shopkeeper. I’m sure that, after he forced the issue and brought forth Benihime using the tenshintai, his tree was barren for quite some time after. It must have taken a great deal of coaxing Benihime for him to see spring again.

#deivorous #[[ headcanon ]]#[[ inner world masterpost ]]#long post cw

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letmetellyouaboutmyfeels · 5 years

Note

Can you explain some of the terms in the history of fandom purges post? For example, what is a pro-shipper blog??? I’m really scared to be deleted! I’ve bren here for years!

Of course, I’m happy to explain! This is a very brief summary, if there’s anything you need to know more about, I’m happy to do my best. Fanlore is also a good site to look up some more stuff!

This is looooooong so under a cut! This is the post in question, for those of you wondering. Let’s go through it from top to bottom. I’ll skip the ones with links because you can follow those links to get more information.

Several times in the ‘90s as you can see on the timeline, authors and creators (and big studios like Paramount and LucasFilm) went after fansites, threatening them with Cease and Desist (C&D) letters and shutting them down. This was fairly common practice, and it wasn’t until fansites like Fiction Alley got big enough, and had actual lawyers on their side, that fandom was able to fight back. Ao3 keeps lawyers on staff for this very reason, because fandom falls under “fair use” and is legal.

Anne Rice is mentioned several times on that post and that’s because she is notorious for going after people who do fanwork. She is extremely controlling about how her characters are perceived by others, including going after anyone who writes a bad review about her books, and people writing their own interpretations of her characters just gets her goat like nothing else, apparently. And she has the money and lawyers to take down quite a lot of people. Thanks to our darling Ao3, we can write as much damn Interview with a Vampire fic as we desire, but you can understand why most fan archivists and fanwriters didn’t want to touch that possible lawsuit with a ten foot pole.

And, if you’re wondering what AOL, an email system, has to do with fansites? Well, another way to share fic, even before fansites, was through email chains. YES, YOU HEARD THAT RIGHT, READ AND LEARN, MY TINY CHILI BABIES. You had to sign up for an email newsletter to get fic! And oh, the fandom wars that could go on in this email chains… there’s a pretty infamous X Files one but that’s another post for another time. Anyway. X Files was one of the original “fandoms that ate fandom” (FTAF), a fandom so big that everyone was into it no matter what their original fandom was (Star Trek and Supernatural are two other examples of FTAF). AOL had a way of… how do I explain this… basically AOL was “hosting” a lot of the early prototypes of fansites, a version of the early email chains. So when The Powers That Be (TPTB) expressed their distaste for X Files fanfiction, AOL purged their X Files sites.

In the early 2000s, FanFiction.Net (FFN) was considered a safe haven. FFN was one of the first really big multifandom sites. Before that, if you wanted to read, say, Star Trek fic, you had to find a Star Trek fansite. If you then wanted to read X Files fic, you had to find an X Files fansite. And so on. Fan archives were often limited, and you might have to go to three different fansites to get all the fic out there, or even to get different kinds of fan material: a fic archive, a fan forum with news on the show/film/book, and a fanart archive.

Welcome to the dark days, my children.

Note: There are still some amazing fansites out there, filled with archived fic, fanart, and even some “virtual seasons” for television shows. If you or anyone you know is in charge of one of those archives, I beg of you to consider working with Ao3′s Open Doors project so that the fanwork on those sites can be preserved for future generations even after the original archivists pass on, lose funds, or lose interest.

Anyway, FFN was a huge relief for everyone because they no longer had to do all the work to archive our fic. Trust me, running an archive or even just uploading your fic back in the day could be exhausting. God forbid you get even one damn bit of your formatting wrong when you uploaded or it would all turn into a mess. And now, you could get your fic all in one place on one site! You didn’t have to sign up for all these different archives! You could have a single pseudonym and a single account for all your fic! The angels sang!

So when FFN got rid of fic without warning, it felt like a real betrayal. First, FFN banned porn, or anything they deemed to earn an NC-17 rating. Which is, as I’m sure you can immediately recognize, a sticky subject since people’s opinions are subjective about that. What does/does not qualify as porn? When is a fic too sexually graphic, what is and isn’t appropriate, etc?

Then FFN banned RPF, which stands for “Real Person Fiction.” If you write about Viggo Mortensen and Sean Bean banging each other, congratulations, you’ve written RPF (RPF was a big part of the Lord of the Rings fandom when the movies came out, fun fact, aren’t you all glad I went down this rabbit hole of research so you don’t have to). If you write about meeting Chris Evans in the airport and the two of you going on a date in the food court, yes, that is RPF.

The other FFN bans mentioned are script format, CYOA, Readerfic, 2nd person, and Songfic. Script format is where people would write things in, well, a script form. I don’t remember exactly why that was banned, I think it was a combination of fear of copyright infringement and just the formatting was so damn annoying to do. CYOA is short for “choose your own adventure” and was banned because it just got too unwieldy for people. This is creeping into gatekeeping territory on what is “legitimate” fic or not. “Choose your own adventure fic is annoying so we’re going to ban it!” is part of a slippery path on what is appropriate or not. “Readerfic” is written in 2nd person POV like so:

You open the front door and are immediately met with the smell of death. You’ve never been around dead people before, so you have no reason to know what the smell is–but somehow, some long-forgotten instinct tells you. You know exactly what this is.

Readerfic is where the reader, you, interacts with characters in a TV show. Take that little snippet I just wrote, for example. If that bit is a part of a larger fic where you’re a Loser and you’re friends with the kids from IT and help them defeat Pennywise, that’s an example of Readerfic. 2nd person is just any fic that uses the “you” as the POV instead of “her” (3rd person) or “I” (first person). This is one of my old-as-dirt Castle fanfics so excuse the quality but here is an example of 2nd POV fic. As you can see, Readerfic is 2nd person, but not all 2nd person is Readerfic.

Songfic is where a fic would use song lyrics throughout, sometimes to the point of annoyance, in telling the story. Basically it was where people would use a song that reminded them of their OTP and write a vignette based around that song. FFN banned it because again, fear of copyright C&D from songwriters and studios.

This was all in the early 2000s, as the timeline in that post shows, but it wasn’t the last time FFN banned things. In 2012 we all got yet another scare when FFN, without warning, purged a fuckton of fics in a porn crackdown. See, we all figured out preeeeetty quickly that nobody was moderating fics to see if we were following the “nothing NC-17 rated” rule, so people kept posting smut, myself included. FFN’s crackdown was sudden and we lost a ton of fic that way. It was after this ban that Ao3, which had been created c. 2009, really started to gain steam as people moved en mass over there.

Also, as the timeline shows, FFN used to have fandom forums. That was where people could discuss things. The forums had been pretty dead, what with LiveJournal and Tumblr, BUT, they contained a fuckton of valuable fandom discussion and meta. FFN purged them, and years of important fandom history was once again lost (along with juicy fandom gossip/wank/scandal… shut up we all have our guilty pleasures).

So that’s all the FFN stuff.

Gryffindor Tower, Sakura Lemon Archive, and some other examples on that list are not about fandom purges so much as they are about what happens when we have an archive run by just one person or a handful of people. That person dies, or is unable to foot the bill for the server, or the people in charge get into a personal argument. Whatever the reason, suddenly, that archive is gone. And so is all of that fic, and all of that history. Wiped away with a keystroke.

Strikethrough and Boldthrough on LiveJournal were similar to the FFN purges. You can read the whole story here, but basically a group of radicals claiming people in fandom were writing child pornography got LJ to purge a bunch of forums and pages, including a rape survivor forum and people who had only written 18+ consensual slash fic. Yeah, no shock that it’s always the slash fic (slash means m/m fic, femslash is w/w) that gets attacked no matter how G rated it is. Once again, everyone woke up to their journals, their forums, their fanwork, their years of history, gone.

Can you see the pattern here? A corporation like Marvel (another entry on this list) will go after fansites, and because Marvel has so much money and so many lawyers, the site caves and does what Marvel asks. Or a bunch of annoying people speak up, usually about smut/porn, and the corporation (LiveJournal, Tumblr, DeviantArt, etc) will get rid of blogs, fanart, fanfic, etc without warning.

This is why fandom cannot trust corporations. Corporations are out there to protect themselves legally by any means necessary and to make profit by any means necessary. Fandom inevitably clashes with that. So, inevitably, the corporation is going to turn against us.

In China, as you saw on the list, it’s especially bad because it’s not just corporations, it’s the government itself. And the government can, has, and will jail people who make fanwork that goes against what the government feels is “good/moral,” like slash fic.

*this section here edited 10/22/19 to update information*

The most recent are the Tumblr purges. Ah, the Tumblr purges. “Pro-shipping” blogs are blogs that are, as the poster of the list themselves explained in a reblog of this post, anti-anti blogs. Anti-blogs and antis are people who are against shipping. Pro-shipping blogs are blogs that are very aggressively “ship whatever you want” and “antis go away.” You’d know if you had a pro-shipping blog. So unless you have one of those, you’re good. I don’t really know the details about this one since that’s not really my discourse wheelhouse so you might want to ask around to get more information.

*okay we’re all updated now, back to the rest of the post*

And of course most of us know about the NSFW ban. Tumblr has a major problem with porn bots. Instead of staffing more people (Tumblr employs FAR too few people to handle the kind of upkeep this site needs) and having actual humans search through and find the porn blogs to delete them (which would be exceedingly easy, trust me, these porn blogs are not hard to find), they just let it keep being a problem. Eventually this led to Tumblr’s phone app being banned from the app store for inappropriate content.

Again, instead of dealing with this maturely and getting rid of the porn blogs, Verizon decided that all NSFW content was banned, and set about deleting all blogs they deemed NSFW. There is now an algorithm that determines if a post you made is NSFW, and it’s flagged and hidden, and you have to petition to get an actual human to look at it and decide if it’s NSFW or not. This algorithm, as I’m sure you can imagine, is absolute SHIT at finding actual NSFW material and will flag the most random BS.

Again, this is an example of a corporation purging and destroying our material. LGBT+ blogs discussing safe sex practices/giving sex advice, sex workers/cam girls who could safely use this site to make a living, rape discussion/survivor blogs, fanwork, people’s fun porn sideblogs, all of it once again destroyed.

Fun.

In just March/April of this year, in fact, several people’s blogs were deleted with no warning and for no reason. My dear friend @qqueenofhades lost her blog for weeks, and she and I and other friends had to petition tumblr daily to get it back (I sent so many emails that one tumblr tech got snarky with me). My darling @koortega suffered the same issue before getting her blog back. Alas, our dear @mearcatsreturns wasn’t so lucky–her original blog, and her years of work on it, were lost forever. Tumblr still hasn’t (to my knowledge) properly explained what happened, although it is telling that a lot of these blogs were queer-friendly, fandom-heavy content generators.

As the list said, this is why we need Ao3 and we need a solution for other kinds of fanwork like videos and fanart. This is why we can’t trust corporations to have our best interests at heart. This is why, despite all of us continuing to use tumblr, we need to find another solution for our fan blogging needs because they will screw us over again and again (until I become rich and famous and can buy this hellsite and run it properly dammit that is my lifelong dream don’t judge me).

I don’t think you’re in danger of getting deleted without warning, nonny. The company that now owns Tumblr seems to have a pretty good track record of running sites, and at least warning people before deleting shit. But that doesn’t mean it can’t happen again. I live in a state of… don’t be paranoid, but be ready, if that makes sense? Think of it like having an earthquake/tornado/hurricane first aid kit in your home. You aren’t constantly thinking about how you might need that kit for a natural disaster, but when that natural disaster hits, you have that kit ready.

Some people have backed up their blogs (I’m not sure how but you can google it or ask around). Others put their fic onto Ao3 (I backed up all my FFN fic onto Ao3 in 2016 for this very reason even though my FFN fic is, for the most part, utter crap). But we don’t have a long-term solution, which is what concerns people and is why that person made that list–to remind us of what we’ve lost and that we’re still in danger of it happening again.

I wish I had a better solution for you, nonny. I wouldn’t live in fear, if I were you? But I would ask around, and see if there’s a way to back up your blog. Because hurricanes do blow in.

#mads answers things #fandom #fandom history #fanfiction #fanfiction history #sorry this got so long #this was probably way more information than you needed nonny

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dying-suffering-french-stalkers · 5 years

Text

Katabasis Patterns in Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End

Or, in which I make use of my official Classics minor (and my unofficial film nerd minor) while ignoring my French major altogether.

Howdy, everyone, and welcome to this week’s episode of Extremely On My Bullshit! Today we’re going to talk at length about how the trip to Davy Jones’ Locker in Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End borrows elements from various classical narratives containing a katabasis, or a trip to the Underworld. This will be a slightly Tumblr-ified version of an actual paper I wrote for my Classical Antiquity On Screen final.

Shoutout to this post by @charlesdances, which allowed me to infodump about Hades/Persephone parallels in Barbossa and Elizabeth’s relationship across the trilogy, and to @aye-tortuga for requesting this longer post, which I teased at the end of the aforementioned meta.

Right then, let’s get started! Under a cut to spare your dashes from long post made longer still by screencaps and works cited (yep, it’s that kind of meta). For the purposes of this meta, only the first three Pirates films will be considered canon as the later sequels contradicted elements of the established lore.

I touched on this in the first paragraph, but I’ll begin by defining two words which will appear throughout this meta: katabasis and anabasis. Katabasis and anabasis are Ancient Greek terms which refer to “that narrative . . . that portrays the hero’s descent into, and ascent from, the underworld—the journey to hell” (Holtsmark 25). (If you want to get etymological about it, kata is down, ana is up, and baino comes from the verb meaning “to go [on foot].”)

This katabasis narrative takes place in the first act of At World’s End. If you’ll recall, Dead Man’s Chest ended with Elizabeth chaining Jack to the Black Pearl’s mast: she knew the Kraken was only interested in Jack, so she sacrificed him to give herself and the others a chance to escape. However, at the very end of the film, Elizabeth and the crew of the Pearl pledge to retrieve Jack from his resting place in Davy Jones’ Locker (the Underworld), and Tia Dalma offers both herself and Barbossa as guides to those “weird and haunted shores.”

So, after the cinematic fucking masterpiece that is the opening “Hoist the Colours” sequence (I also wrote a paper on that lol), we find ourselves in Singapore, where Elizabeth, Barbossa, and co. meet with the pirate lord Sao Feng in hopes of obtaining a map to the Locker. The Singapore segment opens with Elizabeth piloting a lone craft along a murky river, evoking images of Charon with his ferryman’s pole:

As she poles the boat along, she sings a pirate tune with decidedly death-centric lyrics, tuning us in to the symbolism and themes at play: “Some men have died and some are alive / Others sail on the sea / With the keys to the cage and the Devil to pay / We lay to Fiddler’s Green.* / The bell has been raised from its watery grave / Hear its sepulchral tone . . .” (*A form of afterlife from maritime folklore)

At the end of this scene, we see something odd: Tia Dalma dressed as a blind organ grinder.

Plot-wise, this serves to divert the colonial soldiers’ attention from the pirates’ activity, but metaphorically, here she represents the blind seer Tiresias, whom Odysseus encounters when he first enters the realm of Hades (Odyssey 11.187-149).

When the pirates meet Sao Feng, the imagery starts to mix a little. The filmmakers present Sao Feng in a somewhat Hades-esque (Hadean?) manner (steam, flames, and warm tones, with a skylight to imply subterranean depths):

However, while he is a powerful figure, he does not keep the Underworld itself (that duty falls to Jones); he merely keeps the knowledge of its entrance. Barbossa attempts to gain this knowledge by presenting Sao Feng with a silver coin: a reminder of his duty as Pirate Lord as well as another Charon parallel. Barbossa’s tactic does not work, but like in the previous scene, the imagery prepares viewers for the descent to come.

After getting Sao Feng’s navigational charts another way, the pirates’ journey to the underworld continues in earnest. When Will expresses doubt about their path, Barbossa nearly quotes the Aeneid outright: “Trust me, young Master Turner: it’s not gettin’ to the Land of the Dead that’s the problem; it’s gettin’ back.” This echoes the Cumaean Sibyl’s famous words to Aeneas: “Easy is the descent to [the Underworld]: night and day the door of gloomy Dis stands open; but to recall one’s steps and pass out to the upper air, this is the task, this the toil!” (Aeneid 6.126-129, tr. H.R. Fairclough). Aeneas, guided by the Sibyl, passes through the mouth of a cave as part of his descent (“A deep cave there was, yawning wide and vast, of jagged rock” (Aeneid 6.237-238, cf. 6.262-263, tr. Fairclough)); likewise the pirates, guided by Barbossa and the charts, pass through a cave as they travel into stranger climes:

(Buuuut to be fair, this one is possibly just incidental or else more of a reference to Gustave Doré’s art for Rime of the Ancient Mariner rather than a reference to any specific classical text. Doré’s artwork is used elsewhere in PotC, so it’s prolly just aesthetic. Also caves are cool and the ultimate symbolic doorway.)

Next they come to a distant, shadowy realm with a misty sky and a sea tranquil enough to reflect starlight:

Again, this could also be incidental (and/or just a really cool homage to the sailing-to-the-moon scene in The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (1988)), but it does have a classical counterpart: “The ship took us to the deep, outermost Ocean / And the land of the Cimmerians, a people / Shrouded in mist. The sun never shines there [...] Nor bathes them in the glow of its last golden rays; / Their wretched sky is always racked with night’s gloom” (Odyssey 11.14-19).

Both of these qualities—the cave and the darkness—fit Holtsmark’s observations on katabatic patterns: “The entryway to the other world is often conceived as lying in caves or grottoes or other openings in the earth’s crust into the nether regions, such as chasms or clefts. . . . The lower world is generally dank and dark, and the journey usually takes place at dusk or during the night” (Holtsmark 25).

At last, the pirates’ ship goes over the edge of an enormous waterfall and the screen fades to black. Voices from the original Pirates of the Caribbean theme park ride echo over the dark screen, ending with the ominous phrase “Dead men tell no tales.” However, we shall soon see this proved very wrong, for the pirates encounter several souls with tales to tell. As for these nameless voices, they may represent multitudes of “bloodless shades” (Metamorphoses 10.42) left to languish in other parts of the Locker/Underworld.

At this point, the narrative cuts from the pirate band to Jack in Davy Jones’ Locker. Jack warrants special punishment from Jones for disobeying the rules of a bargain they’d once struck (*yells forever about the good parts of The Price of Freedom and the crimes wrought by the DMTNT retcons*). Jack’s own special hell, recalling the punishments of Tantalus and Sisyphus (Odyssey 11.611-629), does include his beloved Black Pearl (explicitly stated, by Jack himself, to be a symbol of personal freedom), but now it rests completely beached upon an endless, windless salt flat. Jack is utterly alone in this wasteland, save for a crew of his own imaginary doppelgängers.

(I’m gonna be real with y’all: I don’t care for this scene at all and it brings the narrative to a screeching halt, so let’s just take a moment to angstily reflect on how profoundly this affects Jack-the-character’s psyche/mental state for the rest of the film and move on to better things. God bless RPers and fic writers who deal with this scene and its effects in a deliciously Watsonian way.)

Tia Dalma/Calypso’s crabs eventually come to bear both captain and ship back to the sea. This could be seen as classical-type divine aid/favoritism (a semi-literal deus ex machina) or as awkward, oh-no-what-do-we-do-now screenwriting, take your pick. The crabs take Jack and the Pearl directly to the rest of the pirates, who have washed up on the Locker’s desolate shore. In a twist on the classical formula, Jack initially thinks his rescuers the dead ones as they recount their past experiences. Additionally, Jack represents a sort of Eurydice figure as the dead-in-need-of-rescuing, while his Orpheus, Elizabeth, is ironically the one who “killed” him in the first place. All the pirates (Jack included) finally set sail in the freed Black Pearl and attempt to escape this Underworld: the anabasis has begun.

On their way out, when the sky grows dark, the crew encounter scores upon scores of shades floating aimlessly upon the sea:

This parallels Odysseus’ experience (“Then out of Erebus / The souls of the dead gathered / . . . They drifted up to the pit from all sides / With an eerie cry, and pale fear seized me” (Odyssey 11.34-35, 40-41)) as well as that of Aeneas (“Hither rushed all the [ghostly] throng, streaming to the banks . . . They stood, pleading to be the first ferried across, and stretched out hands in yearning for the farther shore” (Aeneid 6.305, 313-314)). Tia Dalma reveals that long ago, Calypso had charged Davy Jones “to ferry those who died at sea to the Other Side,” but he has since abandoned his duty, hence his current eldritch appearance. This explicitly posits Jones as a failed psychopomp who has now left these souls stranded like the unburied men of the Odyssey and Aeneid.

The crew leave these shades in peace until Elizabeth spots a familiar face: her father.

At this point I must ask you to rewatch this scene so you can fully appreciate the parallels without me including a lengthy transcript in this already long post.

This scene comes directly from classical literature, as both Odysseus and Aeneas encountered dead parents in the Underworld. Odysseus saw his mother: “. . . At once / She knew me, and her words reached me on wings: / ‘My child, how did you come to the undergloom / While you are still alive? It is hard for the living / To reach these shores. There are many rivers to cross, / Great bodies of water, nightmarish streams, / And Ocean itself, which cannot be crossed on foot / But only in a well-built ship’” (Odyssey 11.151-158). Like Elizabeth, Odysseus had no prior knowledge of his mother’s passing (11.170). His mother warned him of the dangerous situation which had sprung up during his absence, just as Weatherby Swann warned the pirates of the dangers of Davy Jones’ Heart. Aeneas likewise encountered the spirit of his father, Anchises: “‘Have you come at last[?] . . . Over what lands, what wide seas have you journeyed to my welcome! What dangers have beset you, my son!’” (Aeneid 6.687-693). Anchises, too, offers some advice for the future, for he “tells of the wars that the hero next must wage . . . [and] how to face or flee each peril” (6.890-892). Having Elizabeth be the one to encounter a dead parent in the Underworld confirms her as the series’ protagonist, in case that wasn’t patently obvious from the rest of the trilogy (and the failure of Pirates 4 and 5). Weatherby Swann’s warning also serves to remind the audience of the stakes.

Finally, the pirates make their way out of the Locker. While the remainder of their journey takes more inspiration from Rime of the Ancient Mariner and Western European folklore than classical literature, the latter’s influence on the film remains quite clear. When the pirates return to the land of the living, it is daybreak:

(*Lawrence of Arabia theme, but on a cello*)

So, too, does Odysseus emerge from the Underworld into a new dawn: “Our ship left the River Ocean / And came to the swell of the open sea / . . . Where Dawn has her dancing grounds / And the Sun his risings” (Odyssey 12.1-5). The pirates thus complete their katabasis/anabasis, and with rather more luck than Orpheus.

In review: The pirates begin their katabasis in Singapore, which boasts a plethora of Underworld symbolism, including a death-centric song and images of Charon, Tiresias, and Hades. They cross various waters in their descent, mirroring locations from Homer and Vergil, and Barbossa quotes the Cumaean Sibyl. Elizabeth and the pirates retrieve Jack from the Locker’s punishments in a twist on the Orpheus and Eurydice myth. Like Odysseus and Aeneas, Elizabeth sees her dead parent in the Underworld, who warns her of things to come. In the end, the pirates emerge from the Underworld into the light of dawn, signalling their return to life. By borrowing from Homer, Vergil, and Ovid, At World’s End presents an Underworld narrative which is familiar in structure and yet easily incorporated into a new mythology: “Same story, different versions.”

(Please message me if you’d like to quote/reference this post in a paper and I can give you my name + details on the official version! Plagiarism is shitty and unnecessary!)

WORKS CITED

Crispin, A.C. Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom. Disney Editions, 2011.

Fairclough, H.R., translator. The Aeneid. 1916. By Vergil. Theoi Project, www.theoi.com/Text/VirgilAeneid6.html. Accessed 4 May 2019.

Holtsmark, Erling B. “The Katabasis Theme in Modern Cinema.” Classical Myth & Culture in Modern Cinema, edited by Martin M. Winkler, Oxford University Press, 2001, pp. 23-50.

Homer. The Odyssey. The Essential Homer, translated and edited by Stanley Lombardo, Hackett Publishing Company, 2000, pp. 241-482.

Ovid. Metamorphoses. Translated by Stanley Lombardo, Hackett Publishing Company, 2010.

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End. Directed by Gore Verbinski, performances by Keira Knightley, Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, Bill Nighy, Chow Yun-Fat, Geoffrey Rush, Tom Hollander, Jack Davenport, and Jonathan Pryce, Walt Disney Pictures, 2007.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. Directed by Gore Verbinski, performances by Keira Knightley, Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, Bill Nighy, Tom Hollander, Jack Davenport, and Jonathan Pryce, Walt Disney Pictures, 2005.

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. Directed by Gore Verbinski, performances by Keira Knightley, Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, Geoffrey Rush, Jack Davenport, and Jonathan Pryce, Walt Disney Pictures, 2003.

#dear god i hope this posts #pirates of the caribbean #potc #tagamemnon #meta #classics #long post #loooooooong post #katabasis #my meta #if you steal this i will physically manifest in your home and hand you the black spot

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carlisle980 · 4 years

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Just Dance

It’s still Bangtan Day here in the US, and I did something I never imagined I’d do. I wrote Bangtan fic. I haven’t posted it anywhere, because ff.net is where the bulk of my work is but there’s no Bangtan archive there, and while I do all my reading on AO3, I haven’t posted there in years. I can, if the consensus is that it’s a good idea.

Anyway ... here it is. Apologies to the usual crowd. Well, more like, sorry ... not sorry. I love all my old faves. And BTS too.

+++++++

Hey, dance with me dance with me Any kind of bounce is fine, dance with me Where are you from, why are you dancing A natural conversation, say something —J-Hope, “Trivia: Just Dance”

She stands in the center of the cold grey floor feeling small and overwhelmed and old. The studio looks the same as it did twenty years ago, when she spent eight hours a week here. In this very space. Learning. Her horizons expanding. Experiencing a world that made her heart pound with expectation. The sky seemed the limit then.

It smells the same. That combination of sweat and disinfectant with a hint of central air conditioning that she’ll forever associate with this room, with this craft. She couldn’t believe her luck when the question of using the space was as easily answered as it had been half her life ago. Now, as then, all she had to do was ask the director. Is there a chance I might use the studio sometime, when there are no classes and the company doesn’t need it?

It was easy to come by, but that doesn’t mean she can have the space indeterminately, she reminds herself. There’s no grand objective to her being here; she just wants to see if there’s still the same pull. The fascination, the exhilaration. Why, precisely, is a question she cannot answer.

She’s thinking too much, and that won’t do. She plugs her phone into the studio’s sound system and turns on a playlist she works out to at home. It’s high-energy, if eclectic. Avicii is on there. OneRepublic, Maroon 5. “Rhythm Nation” by Janet Jackson and a bunch of vintage Art of Noise. Those are there because they were part of her teacher’s playlist back in the day. Her German-born teacher, a former student of Gus Giordano; a geologist-turned-dancer whom she idolized to the extreme. Sigh. Those were the days.

Knowing it isn’t wise to just start dancing cold, she tries to remember how they used to warm up in class. What a dumb thing not to recall, given that she was advanced by the time she stopped. School loans and weddings don’t pay for themselves, after all, and once she had her degree she could no longer justify the indulgence. Putting off adulthood to linger at the college and take dance classes, to no particular end. So she’d got herself a big girl job out in the real world. One with a salary and health insurance and, in time, a corner office with windows and a door they let her shut so she could concentrate. Pretty sweet gig for a twenty-year-old. Sweet enough that she and her husband had bought their first home —in the overpriced Baltimore-Washington metropolitan area of the early 2000’s, no less— when she was 24. Sweet enough that by the time she left to have their first child, she was making enough that she could’ve bought a Mercedes. If, you know, that had been her priority over becoming a mother.

In the absence of any grand recollection, she sidles up to the barre and starts with the basics. Plié, relevé, plié with a push through to relevé. Relevé down into plié. Coupé, frappé, dégagé, rond de jambe. She puts a leg up on the barre and leans sideways towards it: first one, then the other. Wiggles her shoulders a little, rolls out her lats on the foam roller. Back flexibility is a tough thing but she’s working hard. It’s better than it’s ever been, and compared to other people that’s not saying much, but for her it’s the hallmark of progress.

That’s warm enough, right? You’re really not supposed to stretch before dancing. Cold muscle is shorter and more likely to tear, and all that. The music continues to play and she progresses to chaîné turns. This is where she begins to get frustrated. It’s the same story as it was all those years ago: she can turn to her left well enough (though spotting still doesn’t work the way it should, as evidenced by the room spinning when she stops), but turning to the right is an exercise in futility. She under-rotates and falls out of the turn and no matter how slow she goes, it doesn’t improve. It’s the same with fouettés. Pirouettes in the center go a little better, but she only lands a double once or twice out of several dozen attempts. She practices those turns from modern class that her teacher never had a name for and always referred to by sound effects, like the sound you’d make if you were suddenly punched in the stomach because that’s the mechanism: a core contraction into a spin, propelled by gravity. There was a lot of that, dancing under Lena. Sounds and gestures filling in where words failed. Those turns are still her favorite; they look pretty without the dancer having to do much besides knowing when to work with gravity and when to resist it. That’s why modern was always her preferred style: it doesn’t take a perfect body to finesse the principles of contract and release, of fall and recover.

Little by little she begins to pull things from memory: a crazy penché-drop-spin from advanced modern class that was easy when she was nineteen and is significantly less so now; bits of the Ailey-inspired choreography they learned one semester. She is struck out of the blue by the same desire that characterized her girlhood. Whenever she would encounter a large swath of open floor, her first instinct was always to leap across it. But she knows that one doesn’t simply grand jeté indiscriminately when one has not done so for the better part of two decades. Despite Kathryn Morgan’s advice to just sling the front leg out there and go for it, she holds back. She’s already come back from a groin tear once; never again, thank you very much!

The music decides for her what will happen next when it begins playing “Black Swan.” She hauls herself to the center of the floor in what she imagines is a comedic fashion and gets herself into position.

From there it just flows. She feels it, the struggle of which Martha Graham spoke; the one that inspired the song. It’s all too real for her.

A dancer dies twice; once when they stop dancing, and this first death is the more painful.

She’s danced this piece a thousand times in the privacy of her bedroom, and she nails every count, trying to make it expansive, to fill the vastness of the studio.

Killing me now, killing me now. She has felt that. The despair, the slow death of a precious part of her soul when she’d given up her dream in favor of security. She doesn’t speak Korean —not yet, anyhow— but she’s taken every syllable to heart, knows what each one means.

Sinking slowly like in a trance nah, nah, nah Struggle but it's all ocean floor nah, nah Every moment becomes eternity yeah, yeah, yeah Film it now, film it now Do you hear me, yeah

She’s breathing hard by the end. Tears are streaming down her face and she hadn’t even been aware she was crying. Oh, my God, what was that? That was … like a religious experience. Why did I ever give this up? Why did I let go of me?

It’s as she’s wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, taking gulps from her water bottle like she’s spent the last year in the desert, that she becomes aware she is not alone.

Her head snaps around sharply when someone clears their throat and she gasps. There, seated on the bench above the cubbies where students stash their bags, is none other than the Jung Hoseok. He is barefoot, sitting with his legs criss crossed, in an orange t-shirt and blue shorts, pushing a hand through his dark hair like she’s seen him do countless times on YouTube.

Surely, she’s dreaming. Because she has dreamt of situations like this, both literally and metaphorically. Many times. But in dreams, be they the daytime variety or at night, she never sees him blink, or hears him breathing. But nothing about this makes sense. What is Jung Hoseok of BTS, arguably the world’s busiest man, who cannot walk to get coffee in Seoul without being mobbed by stampeding multitudes, doing here? In the States, on the campus of a community college, and, by all appearances, alone?

Even if he is real, it isn’t as if she can ask him. She knows his English is getting better and better as time goes by and BTS’ influence in the West continues to balloon. But where he can speak a bit of her language, she only knows random words in his.

Still. They’re staring at one another now, and she feels incredibly rude. He can’t be a dream, because he’s infinitely more beautiful in real life than even the best photographs have made him out to be. All angular, with impossibly long lashes, and yes, there’s that adorable mole just above his top lip.

“You’re very good,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence, and isn’t that just characteristic of him? “Dance was … wow.” His accent is heavy but his meaning is clear. And oh, that smile. He really is the sunshine incarnate.

She wants to brush off the compliment, to explain to him that maybe she was good, once upon a time, but now she’s just somebody’s mom. But she doubts it would be easy for him to understand. She wrinkles her nose, shakes her head almost imperceptibly. “I …” she stammers. She’s talking to Jung Freaking Hoseok —WHAT?! “First time really dancing in many years.”

He smiles again. “Really good,” he repeats, nodding his head for emphasis. “Serious.”

She’s not sure whether he’s saying that she looked serious while dancing, or that he’s serious about her doing well, but either way. If anyone knows the inner workings of the “Black Swan” choreography, the sentiment behind it, it is this man.

“Thank you,” she says softly, her cheeks hot. “I love Black Swan.”

There’s so much she wants to ask him. Why are you here? Are you traveling alone? Are there security guards outside the door ready to handcuff me to a lamppost? Because I asked the program director if I could use the studio and she said yes! But the language barrier would make it impossible, and anyway, isn’t there some saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth? She hasn’t taught that one to her kids, but she’s pretty sure her grandmother said it to her at some point.

He smiles once again in response to what she said about “Black Swan” and makes a short humming sound in the back of his throat. “I’m Hoseok,” he says in perfect English. “Hobi.”

She almost laughs aloud. As if there was any possibility she wouldn’t know who he was. But then, hasn’t that been one of the things she’s loved best about him from the start: his humility.

So she introduces herself, and he bows from his seat and tries out her name. It’s adorable. And now she knows the answer to one of those questions she just figured she’d ponder for eternity: her name falling from his lips sounds like angels singing.

“Dance with me?” he asks as he rises from his seat and holds out his hand to her.

If this is a dream, please don’t wake me up.

‘You don’t understand,’ she almost says. ‘You’re … you, and I’m old. I don’t pop and lock, unless you wanna talk about my hip joints when I try grand battement. I don’t b-boy. Modern’s all I’ve got.’ But how many times has she said it: My dream is to dance with Hobi for a day. What kind of absolute idiot would she be to pass up an opportunity like this?

So she says, “I would love to.” And means it more than she’s meant anything since she said ‘I do,’ as a twenty-year-old kid. Nineteen years, two houses, three children, countless ups and downs later, and look how that turned out. Sometimes good things just happen.

She was already warm, but since he isn’t, she stretches when he does, and now it’s safe to stretch hip flexors and hamstrings and they definitely need it. He watches her a little. She watches him a lot. Sometimes he copies what she’s doing, as if there’s anything she could possibly know that he doesn’t. He does these crazy boneless things, dropping to his knees and seemingly floating back up to stand, and she just shakes her head. It looks even more effortless —and even more impossible— in person.

She whips out the chaîné turns again. Her good side, of course. She can fake spotting well enough to make it from one corner to the opposite pretty quickly.

“Oh!” he exclaims. “Like Jimin!”

She giggles. “I wish!” she says, and watches as his expression turns to a question mark.

“Wish?” he asks.

How to explain? “My style?” It comes out as a question because she wants to be sure he can follow.

He nods, so she continues.

“My style, like Jimin’s style. But Jimin … WOW. Me? Just okay.” She makes the hand gesture that means ‘so-so,’ because some things are universal, right?

He laughs, shaking his head. “Aish! No, no, no. Not ‘just okay.’ Very strong. Very …” He thinks for a moment, and there’s another question answered. Pensive Hobi is breathtaking. “Very … grace?”

She is floored. “Graceful?” she asks. He nods emphatically. “Me?”

“Yes, yes, yes! Arms.” He gesticulates wildly with his own. Which, she knows, he would do even in the absence of a language barrier. “Pretty.”

How can she tell him she’s not built like a dancer, that that knowledge has always made her feel heavy and ungainly? That she’s always wanted to be tall and delicate, like him. “My back.” She gestures behind herself. “My spine?” BTS have a song called “Spine Breaker,” even if they call it something else, so maybe it’s a word he knows.

He nods again, echoing, “Spine.”

She reaches into her bag for a pen and paper and draws a likeness of her spine, double curves and all. “Not straight,” she explains, handing the sketch to him. “Makes dancing hard.” It affects everything. I can’t turn properly; I have no extension. My hips are a mess. Every time I lift my leg it clicks.

“Hurts?” His eyes are soft, his expression sympathetic.

“Yeah,” she answers. “Yeah, sometimes. But dance makes it better.” Ironic, right?

“Keep going,” he says with finality. Insistent. Like he’s solved every mystery of her life.

Perhaps he has. He’s only been witness to a half hour out of her entire existence, but in that short time he’s seen a side of her that few others have. He’s watched her dancing, smiling, throwing herself full-force into something she loves. Maybe she never got to perform. Maybe she gave up on training to become a dance teacher. But if dancing makes her feel this level of satisfaction, how can she afford not to give it a prominent place in her life?

She studies him for a long moment. Does she dare ask anything of him? She answers that question with another: will she ever have an opportunity like this one again?

“Hobi?” she ventures timidly. He nods. “Teach me?”

“Yeah!” He says it like it’s a forgone conclusion.

“DNA?” She’s never been able to work that one out on her own.

He grins in answer.

They spend the next hour speaking the universal language of dancer and choreographer. “Pah! Pah! Pah!” “Five, six, seven, eight!” She gets on the wrong foot a time or two, turns and collides with him once, all of it to gales of laughter from the pair of them. He corrects her body position and he’s hands-on but ever the consummate gentleman, and by the time they stop she knows the entire choreography well enough that she can perfect the rest at home.

All too soon it’s over. “I have to go,” she explains sadly, pointing to the schedule on the director’s office door. It’s printed in English, but he gets the gist. There’s a class coming in soon; her time is up.

They sling their dance bags over their shoulders at the same time and it results in another shared laugh.

“Hobi,” she says at the door, “thank you.” There’s so much more she wants to tell him. As long as I live, I’ll never forget this. You’re my favorite dancer. You’re a legend.

“Don’t stop,” he tells her in a tone of voice that brooks no argument, squeezing her hands in both of his own. “Always dance, friend.”

When she performs “DNA” with the company the following semester, she dedicates it to him.

#ejb writes #uncharted territory #fanfic #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys #hobi centric #jhope #j-hope #hoseok #jung hoseok #dance fic #just dance #jimin is mentioned #hobi is my love #what can i say #bangtan day

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you-andthebottlemen · 5 years

Text

50 - An Original. Van helping you out with your photography career.

Wait, what’s that? Evangeline? Posting AGAIN? Insane.

Happy ‘Conversation’ release day! What did you all think of it?

Here is a small original fic I wrote over the last few days. I love it, might be one of my favourites ever. Hope you enjoy it too! Thank you to my girl @storiesaboutvan for editing this for meeee.

And reminder that REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

E x

********************************************

“Rejected! Again!” you exclaimed in frustration and slammed your laptop closed.

“What? Really?” Miranda, your best friend, replied.

You’d emailed more than a dozen band and artist managers that month, for any artist playing a show in your town in the coming weeks, trying to get media approval. Photography was your thing, you loved it more than anything and you were damn good at it too. Your dream was to be a music photographer though, and to do that, you needed to be in front of the music to capture it. Sneaking a small camera into the crowd wasn’t cutting it anymore.

“You’re amazing though y/n! I don’t understand why you don’t get approved?”

Miranda sat on your floor sifting through her Instagram that was filled with photos you’d taken of her. That’s about all you were good for at the moment; taking people’s profile pictures.

“Yeah, but it’s all about who you know, not what you know,” you whined. “Doesn’t matter how good you are.”

You stood from your desk and flopped down on your bed with a groan of defeat.

“That’s bullshit though,” Miranda replied.

“I know.”

You stared at the camera, sets of lenses and other equipment that lined the shelves above your desk. Your eyes narrowed.

“Maybe I just have to really put myself out there,” you said quietly.

Your mind was racing a million miles a minute.

“What do you mean?”

“If venues and managers aren’t going to approve me to shoot, I’ll never get any experience. How do you get accepted with no portfolio? I’ll have to just get out there and find a way to do it all myself. If no one’s going to give it to me, I’ll go and take it.”

“Sounds devious, tell me more,” Miranda grinned mischievously.

*************************

As you packed the last of your gear into your camera bag, the nerves started to hit. Catfish and the Bottlemen were playing in your town that night and you vaguely knew of them, but more importantly, it was a gig. A gig that you were going to sneak into and photograph. Your plan was to dress professionally, act confident and pretend you were assigned to photograph the concert, but someone had made an admin mistake, so your name wasn’t on the list. A far-fetched idea but one you hoped might just pull through for you. Bit of a long shot. You’d had enough rejection to last a lifetime so this was worth it if it paid off.

You’d dressed in all black in attempt to look serious and inconspicuous. Hopefully they didn’t think you were just a kid or something. But you knew that heaps of music photographers were only in their 20s so surely that wouldn’t be the main issue?

Miranda dropped you off at the venue after giving you the pep talk of your life on the way there. The worst that would happen is you’d be turned away. Nothing to be nervous about. Right? You wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans, exited the car and headed towards the door. Your legs wobbled with nerves as you walked but hopefully no one else could tell.

As you approached you could see a few fans already huddled religiously around the entrance, all eager for that front row view. A large and round security guard stood at the door, holding a clipboard and a very stern facial expression. Why were security guards always so scary? You took a deep breath and took confident strides up to him.

“Media,” you said simply with a small, polite smile when he looked at you.

His gaze turned suspicious.

“Name?”

You gave him your name and he scanned his clipboard for the piece of paper that confirmed you were meant to be there. Your heart was pounding so hard you were scared it would burst right out of your chest.

“Nope. Don’t see no ‘y/n’ here,” he said and then rudely looked away as if you’d disappeared already.

“Oh, that’s strange… I am definitely meant to be photographing the band. Got it all confirmed the other week…”

He looked you up and down, pursed his lips and returned to the clipboard. You weren’t really sure what move to make next…there was only so much convincing you could do.

“No.”

“Please… I really have to get in there! They’re expecting me!” you insisted.

You felt horrible for lying; you were definitely going to hell.

“Not on the list, no entrance,” he grunted.

Your hopes fell.

“There’s no one you can go talk to…? Must be an admin error.”

“Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

You stood on the spot. When you didn’t budge, the security guard grabbed your arm roughly and tried to escort you away. You fought against him.

“Oi, mate, what’s goin’ on here?”

The security dropped your arm immediately. You turned around to see a tall and lanky guy holding a takeaway coffee cup and a pack of cigarettes, dressed in all black and wearing sunglasses. He was quite… pointy looking? His nose, cheekbones and jaw were all sharp. His hair was a messy, dark sandy brown and fell nicely in soft waves. Though it could probably do with a wash, you thought. When you saw the few fans sat by the door engulf themselves into whispers and stares, you immediately recognised him as the singer of the band that you’d seen on the posters around town. A few of the girls stood and inched closer, waiting for him to be done talking, phones and tickets in hand.

“Say’s she’s meant to be taking photos or summat. Not on the list though, and media isn’t expected til 6,” the security guard grunted again.

The guy’s eyes shifted between you and the security guard. You threw him a pleading look.

“Oh yeah…” he said softly in a high tone, as if he were remembering a forgotten thought. “Yeah I was told you’d be here. Early.”

Your eyes widened in shock. He was covering for you? The security guard looked just as shocked.

“Uh, yes,” you agreed with him.

“Sorry, erm… y/n. I’ll go see about that paperwork,” he said.

“Oh no need, it’s fine now,” you replied, not wanting him to sniff out your lie.

“In you go then you two.”

You went inside, unsure of which way to go, what to do or of what even just happened. You were in absolute shell shock. It worked? And only because that singer went along with your lie. Why though? Whatever the reason, you were beyond grateful. If it weren’t for him, you’d be going home defeated yet again. You clung tightly to the strap of your camera bag on your shoulder and waited for the lanky singer, who was outside taking pictures and signing autographs.

“This way,” he smiled as he came through the doorway. “I’m Van.”

He gestured for you to follow him. Van walked with a slight spring in his step, a slight ‘groove’ as your mother would say. He looked effortlessly cool.

“Y/n,” you replied nervously from behind, still in shock that he got you in. “Thank you so much… Why did you-”

“Shhh, don’t want grumpy pants outside to hear you weaselled ya way in.”

You followed Van up the hallway in astounded silence and unsure of where he was taking you. Soon enough you came to the other side of the building and out the door into a courtyard. You glanced around quickly to take in the space. It was all bricked, overgrown ivy and weeds climbed from the ground up the sides of the tall fences that enclosed the square area and a battered white table and chairs sat sadly in the middle.

“What are we out here for?” you asked stupidly.

Van removed his sunglasses; his eyes stood out to you immediately, even from afar. Blue with the longest lashes you’d ever seen, piercing but in a way that made you feel seen, not scared.

“Well, you did say you were here to photograph us yeah?” Van winked.

You gave an embarrassed smile and pulled your eyes away from his.

“Thanks again, Van. You didn’t have to cover for me, but yeah. Thanks.”

“It’s no problem love,” he chuckled. “What happened anyway? I figured from the look on ya face that you weren’t actually meant to be on the list.”

Van sat down at the table and chairs, placed down his coffee cup and pulled a cigarette from the box he was still holding. He slid his sunglasses over the collar of his black button up so he had two free hands. The unbuttoned neckline of his shirt dipped down, and you could see a gold chain hanging delicately from his neck. He lit the cigarette smoothly, placing it in his mouth and cupping a hand around it to shield the flame. When it lit, he let out a large breath and billow of smoke. As he did so, he made direct eye contact with you. A simple act, but one that was extremely attractive. You felt your heart rate increase slightly and a blush rise to your cheeks. You looked away.

“Yeah. Uh, so. I’m a photographer, well trying to be one. Graduated uni a few years back and still haven’t really gotten anywhere. I never get approved to shoot shows though since you need to give a portfolio of experience… How are you meant to have a portfolio and get experience if they never let you in? Dumb. Sorry I’m rambling…”

Van chuckled, shook his head slightly and motioned for you to continue.

“I kind of got fed up with it so thought I’d try sneaking in. If they weren’t gonna give it to me, I’d take it,” you shrugged, repeating what you’d already explained to Miranda.

“I like that,” Van smiled, then blew out another puff of smoke. “I used to sneak into gigs and stuff all the time. Me and my best mate Larry would go to festivals and like, pass the wristband through the gate round the back, so we’d only have to buy one between us.”

You liked the way Van’s accent made him pronounce ‘us’ like ‘uz’.

“That’s brilliant,” you replied, impressed and wishing you’d thought of that in the past.

“So don’t worry: no judgement from me. I admire it honestly.”

You smiled at Van and walked over to the table to place your camera bag down. Time to stop being awkward as all fuck.

“Shall we then?” you asked.

“Let’s do it.”

Van blew out another large puff of smoke then put the cigarette out in the ashtray that sat on the stained plastic table top. You fitted your camera together, choosing the 50mm lens which was your favourite for portraits. As you did so, it all sunk in. You were about to take shots of a famous musician. This could change your career. What’s more is that this extremely famous musician seemed to enjoy talking to you and was also extremely attractive… You gulped and began to take some test shots of the courtyard to get the right settings for the light.

“You tell me what to do, love; how do you want me to pose?”

“You’re really serious about this? Thought I was just going to get a chance at photographing your gig, not portraits of the singer! You don’t mind?” you asked, checking to make sure he was definitely okay with it.

“Will it help with your… portfolio? Or like getting published and that?”

“Immensely,” you nodded.

Published. Wow. You hadn’t even thought of that.

“Then yeah, I’m okay.”

Your heart flooded with warmth and gratitude towards Van. You weren’t even sure how to show it.

“You don’t really need to pose…just sort of be natural. Keep talking to me if you want.”

You found that most subjects felt most comfortable being photographed when you engaged with them in conversation, kept it calm and casual. And besides, you always preferred candid photos to heavily posed ones anyway. You took a few warm up shots of him and checked your settings. You felt a little awkward sticking the camera in his face, but he seemed relaxed. Probably used to it by now.

“Dead nice camera you got there,” Van commented, breaking the silence.

“Thanks,” you smiled, chuffed.

It was a pretty nice camera. Recently purchased with all your savings. It had been the camera of your dreams for years and now that you owned it, you didn’t use it nearly as much as you should. You were happy it was going to get a proper work out today.

“I don’t know nothin’ about photography though, but our drummer, Bob, is well into it. More film stuff though? Like proper old style.”

“That’s awesome,” you replied. “I’ve not really tried film but I’d like to one day.”

“Maybe I can get Sideshow to give you some pointers. He’s not a huge talker though but he’s dead good at taking photos.”

“Sideshow?”

“Oh, yeah, Bob’s nickname, been stuck for ages.”

You laughed slightly at the odd nickname. You asked Van about how it came to be and he launched animatedly in the story. As he spoke, you moved around him slowly to get different angles and lighting. He sat calmly in his chair, sometimes looking directly into the camera and sometimes at you or away into the distance. You could tell already that these photos were going to look amazing in black and white. Van had a brooding look to him, but his eyes were warm and brought you in.

Van was sort of beautiful? He was handsome in a way that you don’t necessarily notice immediately but did the more he talked, in his mannerisms and the way he moved. He was unconventional and you liked that.

“Do you mind if I…?”

Van motioned at his cigarettes and you shook your head. He did the same thing as before when he lit the cigarette but stared right down your camera lens when he blew out that first breath, squinting his eyes slightly. God damn. You clicked away, feeling annoying like paparazzi but also glad that you’d caught all of this on camera. You couldn’t wait to go through the photos later that night.

“So y/n…” Van started, then took a drag of his cigarette. “Why photography?”

Interesting question.

“I guess I just always knew that it was the thing for me. It’s what I’ve always been most passionate about. What about you, with music?”

“Same really. I guess I just always knew.”

You looked up from behind the camera and smiled at Van. You liked that he was showing interest in you when he definitely didn’t have to. He was down to earth, kind and normal. The fame hadn’t gone to his head.

“What do you like about it?” he asked.

Your answer was immediate.

“I guess for me, it’s all about capturing a moment. I love being able to take a shot and make people feel something or like, be transported back to that minute in time. So, I want to be a music photographer… I reckon those moments, when you’re at a gig seeing your favourite artist with your mates, they’re the best ones to go back to and feel again.”

Van sat in his chair and nodded in agreement.

“We have a lot in common you and me,” he chuckled thoughtfully.

A happy, confused sort of smile bloomed across your face and one of your eyebrows raised in slight bewilderment.

“Hey, come here, give me that.”

Van stood and bounded over to you with arms outstretched.

“I’m gonna take photos of you now. Show me how to use this!”

Usually people touching your camera made you want to scream. But Van was endearing.

“No!” you squealed and ducked away as he shoved the camera in your face.

You were both laughing and he was clicking away, you tried to escape him but that only led him to use one long arm to grab you around the waist and hold you still in front of him so he could take a front on photo of your face. Though as he said, he knew nothing of photography so of course the 50mm lens would make that angle far too zoomed in.

“Oh, I thought that was gonna be a good one but it’s like just your nose,” he laughed, sounding confused.

You were flushed and heart pounding. Van’s arm still lingered loosely around your waist as he flicked through the photos you’d both taken.

“Yeah, see the lens, it kind of zooms everything in a little so you don’t have to stand as close to someone to get their whole face in the shot,” you explained, trying to use simple concepts.

You took the camera from Van and his arm dropped. He stood close, looking down at you. You pretended to be engrossed in your camera.

“I like this one.”

You pulled up the photo of him blowing out smoke and looking straight into the camera and turned it around so he could see. You could see the smoke blur gently in the air around him, giving it a hazy, grungy feel.

“I like that too. Wow, you’re good y/n.”

You beamed at him and felt proud of yourself. Maybe this was all going to work out for you after all?

#Catfish and the Bottlemen #catfish #van mccann #catb #fan fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #van mccann fanfiction

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crsinclair · 5 years

Text

Popular Fic Meme

I was tagged by the ever-lovely @gluethegrue ! Oh gosh I’m all a-flutter~

Rules: Create a list of five of your favourite fics you’ve written and have followers vote on the best one, then write a small dabble of the winner. Set your own time limit for voting and tag five other writers.

SO. I forgot this was a thing, like. Legitimately. I meant to link the fics the next day but um. Well I currently have a concussion so I can’t remember why I didn’t link the fics, but I didn’t and that’s on me. Oops. So, here’s try #2, in which I have PROPERLY linked the fics in question (and I changed one of the options, sorry :p). I’ll leave the voting open again until Wednesday (3-20-2019), and concussion permitting I’ll post the winner and a related drabble!

HERE ARE THE FICS:

Laughter (If It’s The Last Thing I Do) - An Erasermic fic where Hizashi is a dumb teenage boy who angrily tries to make the new kid laugh and falls in love along the way

Aizawa looked up, dark eyes just peering over the edge of his notebook. After a moment, he said, quiet and as bored as ever, “I didn't laugh because I didn't think it was funny.”

Tensei was rolling his eyes in the corner of Hizashi's vision, but oh no. He was too busy fuming. He jumped from where he was perched and marched over to the increasingly bewildered transfer student. Smacking the end of his pointer finger into the back of Aizawa's notebook, he bit out, “Just you watch, you bastard, I'll make you laugh if it's the last fucking thing I do!”

Hizashi is a young teenage boy that goes a very, very round-about way to get to know someone. It all works out in the end.

Just Another Day Next to You - Another Erasermic fic in which Hizashi has the Feels™ for one Aizawa Shouta and wants to confess.

Hizashi reached across the aisle to poke his friend in the arm. “Shoooouta, so mean! I thought you liked my cheery attitude and go-get-'em personality!”

“Mm. I guess we are friends, aren't we?” Shouta teased, not lifting his eyes from his notebook.

'I'd like to be a lot more than that,' Hizashi didn't say.

Another day in the life of a pining teenage boy.

No Extreme G-Force Required - A Shance fic in which Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane is really, really down on his luck. Until he literally runs into Lance McClain, that is. The Sugar Daddy Lance Fic I didn’t know I needed until I wrote the damn thing.

“Seriously, I think I might’ve ruined your shoes. I can buy you a new pair, if you want?”

Shiro did drop his wallet at that.

“Wh-what? No, no, that’s - that’s fine, it’s fine - “ Though now that Shiro looked down at his own feet he could see that his shoes had definitely seen better days. “I’ll just, just throw them in the wash or something - “

Lance slapped a hand to his mouth in horror, face actually going a few shades pale. “NO! You can’t do that! That’s - no!” He shook his head, frantically tossed his empty cup into a nearby trash can, and grabbed Shiro by the wrist. “No, my dude, I can’t let you do that, nuh-uh, I am buying you a new pair of shoes right now!”

“What!? No! You don’t need to - sir!”

In which Shiro is down on his luck, runs into Lance (literally), and manages to snag himself a Sugar Daddy.

Say My Name - A Hogwarts!Erasermic AU that honestly I debated adding onto this list because it’s um. Well, it’s smut. :) But I love the AU a ton soooo - in which Hizashi gets a Siren Inheritance and Shouta doesn’t know how to fucking deal with it (WARNING: Not Safe For Work, is Explicit, please proceed with caution)

Shouta’s scowl started coming back. “It can’t be that bad,” he scoffed. He wasn’t happy about this. Hizashi looked miserable not being able to participate in a conversation. Especially one about himself. The blond lived and breathed to be able to chatter others’ heads off.

Nemuri gave Shouta a look. “I dunno, Shouta,” she drawled happily. “When he talked to me earlier, he sounded like sin. Such a pretty, pretty voice you’ve got now, huh, ‘Zashi?”

Hizashi looked like he wanted the Great Hall to swallow him whole.

Shouta? Scowled down at his breakfast and stabbed a sausage. Damnit, he hated it when Hizashi was quiet. And what he hated even more was that right now? Learning that his not-quite-boyfriend-but-definitely-more-than -friends had the voice of a Siren? He knew the lore. Even if Sirens were extinct, they were popular in mythology even in the non-magical world. He wanted nothing more than to hear Hizashi speak.

Preferably his name.

Daemon-Soulmate AU - Not an actual fic, but I’ve got a few little bits and bobs hanging around on this hellsite. An Erasermic AU in which everyone has a daemon, not everyone has a soulmate. Soulmates have the daemon that belongs to their soulmate and will only know who their soulmate is when they meet. (Link is to the first bit on tumblr, more available by searching #daemon soulmate au)

So much pain.

The worst he’s ever felt. Like someone had just dropped a cinder block on his chest and then set it on fire. It hurts, so much, stop it, someone make it stop -

He gets pushed aside, stumbling for half a second before tripping out of bounds.

“Winner, Yamada Hizashi!”

Shouta can barely get his eyes to focus, but he forces himself to look around. The blonde kid he was fighting was kneeling next to a small blob of black, frantic and crying and Shouta can see two little orbs of grey peering at him from the black.

Tsuki. A daemon.

His daemon.

Shouta feels cold. His daemon. He finally meets his daemon, the one Sunshine was always telling him was out there, the one that was with his soulmate…

And he hurts it.

Remember to vote! Send votes to my inbox, please, and I’ll be sure to remember this time! *sets 7 alarms to remind myself to fucking check on wednesday* (I’m not tagging other people because in my last one I already did AND they’ve already made their posts. So no need to be rude on my part.)

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jencala · 5 years

Text

Fanfic Author Challenge

The challenge is to post segments from 4 of your favorite fics you have written. They can be as long or as short as you wish, and you may provide the readers with some insight on why you chose this fragment.

I know I was tagged by a couple of people but it’s been a while and I’m finally getting around to it. Sorry! And oh boy, this is hard to choose!

1. Of Masters and Slaves

Sirius didn’t speak for a moment, but held his mother’s unwavering stare. “I understand. Mother .”

“Oh dear, I don’t think you truly do.” Walburga’s quiet laughter teetered on madness as she raised her wand and aimed it at her son. “I think you need another lesson to truly drive home the point. Crucio !”

Sirius crumpled to the floor, convulsing under the onslaught of the curse. His muscles felt like they would burst into flames as the feeling of liquid fire raced through his veins, his limbs twisting as the sensation of his bones breaking and melting caused an inhuman scream to tear its’ way out of his throat.

Remus could only stand there, cemented to the ground as he watched— unable to do anything to help Sirius or stop the madwoman from torturing her own flesh and blood. His hands curled into themselves, his nails drawing blood as he restrained himself from reaching for Sirius when every fiber of his being was telling him to move—to do something other than just stand there.

The Black matriarch finally released the spell and stood over her son, watching with a pleased quirk to her lips as Sirius still shook from the effects of the curse, tremors racking his body. “Very well then. Have you learned your lesson today, Sirius?”

Sirius slowly opened his eyes, excruciating pain coursing through every cell of his body as he tried to focus on the imposing figure standing above him.

“Ah, I see you need some reminding of what the lesson was about, so let me explain clearly.” Walburga smiled almost pleasantly. “You see, I do believe you were under the mistaken impression that by allowing you to defile yourself with this beast it was a reward of some sort for agreeing to marry Bellatrix. Oh no, my dear.” Her chuckle struck fear deep in Remus’ heart. “You see, you will marry Bellatrix by month's end regardless of whatever creature warms your bed beforehand. It is dear Bella’s decision as to how she deals with your predilections after your vows. However, Fenrir will be coming to collect the beast for his own within a fortnight.”

Sirius struggled to speak. “Wh-what for?”

Walburga raised an eyebrow coolly. “Whyever should I have cared to find out?” She turned to leave, but stopped and leveled her still shaking son with a sneer. “Do clean yourself up, Sirius. It does not befit the current heir to our Most Noble House to lie on the floor like a common gutter rat.” With that parting comment she swept from the room, head held high.

Remus remained motionless for a moment, staring at the empty doorframe in shock. At last, his motor skills returned as he rushed to where Sirius still lay prone on the floor. He lifted Sirius’ head gently onto his lap. “Are you alright?”

Sirius felt the tremors recede a bit at the gentle stroking of the fingers through his hair. “I w-won’t let him take you.”

Remus stared down at him incredulously. “That’s what you have to say? Your mother just tortured you and threatened to murder you and you’re worried about Greyback?”

Sirius licked his dry lips and nodded, savoring the feel of the fire in his muscles ebbing away slowly. He flexed his legs slightly trying to regain some control of his limbs as they were still sporadically spasming. “It’s not the first t-time she’s used that s-spell on me. I’ll be alright.”

This fic is really special to me and differs in style and story in how I normally write. It was my first multi-chaptered fic and I am actually almost done with the next chapter of the story so yes, I promise I will be updating soon. It was started originally as a response to @asktheboywholived‘s Empire prompt and I just love the world they prompted and the story I have created here. It’s extremely angst-filled which is a challenge for me because I love our boys happy and fluffy with a HEA. I have the entire story arc done and it should be another ten chapters until the end. I hope you all enjoy what I have planned.

2. Textually Yours

10:46 am: Moonbeam, have I told you how delicious you look in that jumper?

10:48 am: I'm in class. 10:48 am: And thanks *blushes*

10:49 am: I'm in lecture right now too 10:50 am: I can still daydream about how tasty you look in my favorite jumper

10:55 am: Can you possibly daydream to yourself? I really want to pass this course. 10:56 am: Why is it even your favourite? It has bobbles on it.

10:58 am: It's touching your skin right now 10:58 am: Like I wish I was 10:59 am: So it's my favorite **wink wonk**

11:01 am: Oh sweet jebus. 11:02 am: Padssssss, the lecturer is talking about character structure, I reallly need to pay attention 11:04 am: You aren't going to listen to me, but, you're my favourite :)

11:06 am: My lecturer is droning on about Masaccio and his use of light in his paintings 11:07 am: I'd much rather wax poetic about the way the light hits your skin 11:07 am: when you're lying naked in my bed

11:10 am: Well guess what idiot dropped his phone and now everyone is looking at him. 11:11 am: I'll give you a hint, he's in your favourite jumper

11:12 am: oh my poor Moon Pie, did I fluster you? 11:13 am: I can do many other things to you 11:13 am: that you'd like even more ;-)

11:15 am: Okay I'm intrigued now. What. What other things?

11:17 am: ah, my ever-studious Moony is intrigued? 11:17: am: I like when you think naughty 11:18 am: I'd start by taking that ridiculous jumper off 11:18 am: It's only my favorite when it's on you 11:19: am: I'd much rather see it on the floor

11:22 am: Holy.. I might have to take it off anyways. You're making me blush. And hot.

11:23 am: and I haven't even started… 11:24 am: I'd kiss those luscious lips first 11:24 am: then I'd run my hands down your chest and kiss your neck 11:25 am: you so like it when I nibble on your neck 11:25 am: you make the most wonderful sounds when i do

11:28 am: I have a ROB. 11:29 am: I cannot move.

11:30 am: What is a ROB?

11:32 am: Prongs teaches you nothing. Randomly Occurring Boner. I'm now stuck in this chair whether i like it or not

11:33 am: imagine if I was there to help you out with that 11:34 am: right now

I am a sucker for texting fics and I wrote this with my dear friend @josiemoone. we had so much fun writing this together and I just love how sappy our boys are in this as well as how their relationship comes out. it was just such a fun piece.

3. Saving Me

Rage coursed through his body, his thoughts whirling. Wormtail’s alive. The little bugger is still alive! As he read through the article, his fury intensified. The boy in the picture, Ron Weasley, would be heading back to Hogwarts—presumably with his pet rat—straight to Harry.

Sirius's godson was in terrible danger, and there had to be a way to warn him, to help Harry, and get his revenge on Wormtail.

He threw the paper down and began to pace his cell. He didn’t know how or why, but Peter Pettigrew, the reason he was in Azkaban and Lily and James were dead, was with the Weasley family. Sirius just knew it was him. He had to get to him somehow.

Wormtail had to pay for his betrayal.

And Sirius would be the one to make him pay—finally.

His mind finally clearing, he sensed the cold from the approaching dementors and unconsciously shifted to Padfoot. They never bothered him in his Animagus form, and it had become instinct to retreat into it whenever he felt them near.

Thoughts became simpler as a dog, and he suddenly struck upon the answer: Sirius couldn’t escape from his prison, but Padfoot could.

He waited until the Dementors passed, the screams of other prisoners ringing in his ears more acutely through his canine hearing. He ignored them to slide his emaciated form through the cell bars. He supposed there was some merit now to the fact that prisoners were never fed enough.

Padfoot made his way through the labyrinth of corridors, ignoring the calls and sights of the other prisoners along his way, and he used his sense of smell to lead him to where he caught a whiff of the sea the strongest. He found himself entering what looked to be a small office, most likely used by some of the human guards. It was, thankfully, empty—luck on his side for once.

The window at the back of the office was much larger than the tiny one at the top of his cell and though fitted with bars, was open and he could easily slip through them in his canine guise. He did just that and found himself perched precariously on a wide ledge overlooking the dark, churning, sea about 50 meters below him.

Sirius knew his chances were slim; it was a long way down and an even longer distance to swim to shore in a violent sea. But what choice did he have? Spend the rest of his days in a prison while the person who killed his family tried to finish the job with his godson or take a chance and try to help in whatever way he could?

There was no prince coming to save him from his tower.

It was up to Sirius to save himself.

Padfoot took a deep breath and jumped.

The moment he hit the water, it felt as if a thousand frozen needles were trying to pierce his skin. The chill was excruciating, but he fought his way to the surface, gasping for breath. After taking a moment to get his bearings, he started paddling his way in the direction he presumed the shoreline was.

It felt like hours, but it could have been mere minutes in his diminished state. He swam as hard as he could, but he could feel his limbs losing what little strength they had. His magic not strong enough to keep his canine form, he shifted back to human, fighting against the waves as fatigue drained every muscle in his body. He tried to focus on getting to shore, to Harry, but his thoughts kept drifting to Remus.

This fic was my first ever entry for a fest and it’s also the fic that’s closest to canon. It details Sirius escaping from prison all the way to his seeing Remus for the first time in the Shrieking Shack and I loved delving into his psyche and exploring Wolfstar while still remaining in canon. I love how I tell a bit of their story through flashbacks while Sirius almost drowns and how he questions his sanity and honestly at one point doesn’t care if he’s actually insane as long as he gets to keep his hallucination.

4. Drawn Together

Marlene spotted him first, a sly grin on her face as she greeted him. “Back already, Re? Pretty-boy must not have been very good.”

Remus rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink, careful to avoid looking at Sirius. “That’s none of your business, Marls.”

“We thought you’d left,” Dorcas piped in, smiling at Remus. “I’m glad you came back.”

“I just needed a bit of fresh air.”

He heard Sirius’ snort and finally looked at the other man, sitting on a stool across from him. He raised an eyebrow. “Alright there, Sirius?”

Sirius stared at him for a moment, his grey eyes cold. “I’m fine, just never heard a hook-up referred to as fresh air before.”

“I never said I hooked up, and even if I did, what business is it of yours?”

He watched Sirius take a long pull from his cider before he deigned to answer. “Oh, it’s definitely none of my business, I just thought you were hanging out with your friends and not working .”

“Excuse me?” Remus’ eyes widened indignantly. “ Working ? Are you implying I’m a bloody prostitute?”

Sirius huffed a harsh laugh. “Oh, no, Remus, of course not. You don’t charge for your services. Or wait—you do get paid for the column you put all your sexual escapades in, don’t you?”

Remus tried to fight his growing anger, but the sneer on Sirius’ face enraged him more. “You’re a fucking twat, Black. A hypocritical one, at that. I seem to recall you’re getting paid for the artwork for my so-called sexual escapades !”

“Oh, that’s right! Maybe I should thank the bloke who just got you off?” Sirius took another pull from his cider before slamming it down on the table, his eyes hard as flint as they met Remus’ and stood up. “Would you like to take me back to where you just fucked that bloke so I can get the details right for my piece?”

Remus ignored Marlene and Dorcas’ pleas for them to both calm down, and he stepped closer to Sirius. “You really are a bloody hypocrite, aren’t you? I saw you getting some action on the dance floor before I left!”

“I was dancing not fucking some random bloke in a back room!”

Remus grinned maliciously. “Is that the problem, Sirius? You wish it was you I was fucking back there, not a random bloke?”

He watched with satisfaction as Sirius’ eyes widened, nostrils flaring, before he pressed closer to Remus, his striking features twisted in anger. “Listen up, Lupin, and listen well. I wouldn’t t-touch a slag like you with someone else’s cock, so get whatever idea you have about me fancying you out of that thick head.”

He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut with those words, but Remus refused to let Sirius see how his comment affected him. “Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head, Black. The last thing I’d ever do is want to touch a sodding twat like yourself. I prefer real men who can satisfy me, not a bloody prude.”

He turned to Marlene and Dorcas before Sirius could respond and kissed them each on the cheek. “It’s been lovely girls, but I’ve got to run. I’ll give you a call this week.”

Dorcas gave him a pleading look. “Re, please don’t leave. I don’t know what’s gotten into Sirius— “

He held up a hand to cut her off. “It’s fine, Dorcas. Sirius is just being the twat I knew he was. Don’t worry about it, it’s between him and me, nothing to do with you, love.”

Marlene hugged him. “Remus, just don’t disappear on us, alright?”

He kissed the top of her head before stepping back. “No worries, love. I really will call you this week.”

Remus forced a smile at his friends before turning back to Sirius. “Black.” He turned to walk away, but Sirius called his name and he turned back. “What?”

Sirius smirked, pointing at the hem of Remus’ shirt. “You missed a spot. Black lights are a bitch, aren’t they?”

Oh this story will forever hold a special place in my heart. This was my 2018 Wolfstar Big Bang fic and I stressed about it so much, but I got to work with @yumenouveau who is just such a fabulous artist and friend and it was an amazing if stressful experience. I love the AU world I created and the sexual tension and snark between my favorite boys is endless. It’s a slow burn and even as the writer there were times I just wanted to scream at them to just kiss already, but my boys were stubborn, Sirius especially, and I love how this fic turned out.

I’m tagging @ami-talks, @shayalonnie, @captofthesswolfstar, @maraudererasmut, @moonllotus, @yumenouveau,

#my writing #my fave fics of my own #this was hard to choose #they're all special for various reasons #Wolfstar

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emperorren · 6 years

Note

would you be ok with talking about the golden age of the reylo fandom? i’m a new shipper so i wasn’t here for it. i’ve heard a few people mention big events but I’m very curious what it was like in the beginning!

aaaaahhhhh the golden age when reylo was just a baby ship and there were like, 56 of us on this site and all busy defending ourselves from random accusations of being *anne’s voice whose name wasn’t anne yet* ABuSe apoLogISTs!!

The initial discourse around reylo was really intimidating, because even the most innocuous mutuals on your dash were reblogging smug untagged anti posts (I remember one in particular that was like “stop shipping female characters with their abusers!!!1111!!!” with something like 50K notes). The first few weeks after TFA’s release were all about heated debates on whether you’re actually allowed to ship problematic things and ~how can you deny that the interrogation scene was a rape analogy~, and for me personally, a LOT of juggling between reylo (which was quickly becoming my main focus, even though back then I was almost certain they were related) and f/nnr/ey (which I had mostly lukewarm feelings for, but showing open indifference seemed like a good way to be bullied for *internalized racism*, so I had to strike a balance).

BUT when actual fan content for the ship started surfacing, and we simultaneously started growing in numbers and closing our ranks against fandom bullies, it was amazing.

There was Ohtze’s Death and the Maiden meta, which for me sealed the transition from “intriguing enemies to lovers ship” to “ASGFHSJKSGAGSKKS OTP OF OTPS” because I freaking love subtext and ships built on subtext.Creatively there was a lot of freedom, since the reylo dynamic was hinted at in canon but nothing was set in stone yet, and imagination ran wild. There was lots of dark and angsty, lots of proper enemies to lovers tropes, lots of dark!Kylo, lots of scenarios where Rey has to kill him in the end and they’re both in tears and he thanks her for that, the first attempts at depicting the yin/yang dynamic. A popular headcanon was that Ben fell when he was fifteen-something (around the time Rey was abandoned on Jakku), so in many fics the Kylo/Snoke relationship was even more disturbing than it is in canon. Another popular theory was that Rey was a little student at Luke’s academy, and Ben was the one who dropped Rey on Jakku, perhaps to spare her from the jedi temple massacre, so you had lots of fics based on that. And of course the stranded/trapped together tropes proliferated.

You kids are so spoiled now, but back then we were really in the dark. We didn’t have Rian Johnson backing up your reading, or the story group chatting excitedly over Rey and Kylo’s interactions. For all we knew, we were seeing things that weren’t there, as the majority of tumblr kindly reminded us every 5 seconds. (there was a well researched meta theorizing how the actual *trio*—in the sense of the three most important characters—was actually F/nn, Rey and Kylo Ren, and oh, the outrage it attracted. In hindsight it’s hilarious.) Popular reylo shippers tended to be extremely cautious re: canon reylo, if not downright skeptical. Thinking that Rey and Kylo could actually have a romance, rather than a “special antagonism” with very veiled romantic subtext, was considered incredibly optimistic. Most people said they would gladly settle for Rey no longer hating Kylo by the end of IX. Consequently, most fics were excruciatingly slow burn (which is why they were amazing), because it was considered a titanic effort to make these two characters stop wanting to kill each other, especially Rey, something that needed thousand of pages of subtle character evolution to be remotely plausible. It wasn’t even about tempering our expectations—we barely had any. we simply thought we were shipping little more than a crackship.

So when the databank dropped, calling Rey and Kylo’s “destinies intertwined”, and JJ’s TFA commentary described them as “the story we’re really interested in”, and called Rey a princess and Kylo a prince, it was MINDBLOWING. It was the first hint that we were, in fact, reading this story correctly.

There was also a lot of obsessing over Pablo Hidalgo’s tweets and desperately searching for clues. Pablo’s confirmation that Rey “downloaded” Kylo’s force skills by entering his mind was probably the first canon confirmation of the existence of the force bond, but it was again Ohtze who had first introduced most of us to that concept in her meta on the parallels between Reylo and Revan/B*astila, and we latched on it enthusiastically (though back then the force bond was conceived as a merely telepathic connection—TLJ went above and beyond that).

Other touchstones were when John said the romance in this trilogy wasn’t /going the way you think/ and that he and Daisy essentially played their characters as friends (the fandom consensus back then was that the central romance was f*nnrey, so that interview was a turning point in the fandom and bolstered our confidence). And Daisy’s throwaway comment about Rey “feeling the force” with Kylo during the duel (another hint at the force bond).

There was occasionally some big intra-fandom drama (I remember a person called ysbaddadenthebrave, who wrote a lot of VERY popular fics back in the day but it turned out she was lying about personal stuff and some novel she was writing (though I didn’t follow that wank closely) and also the mess with msqualia (a shipper who became a bully to other shippers).

There were many #gates, too, starting with #ashgate. It happened when a pic of Kylo putting his helmet on a sort of altar covered in ashes, with the commentary by JJ that those ashes were the remains of his dead enemies. People went NUTS over this. People UNSTANNED Kylo for this, I shit you not, others took it as bad writing, lack of coherent characterization, a hint that he was never going to be redeemed, it caused SO MUCH PANIC, lol.

I also remember very vividly when the first HD version of TFA was leaked, and tumblr was suddenly flooded with a deluge of quality gifs of the duel, the interrogation, unmasked Kylo looking at Snoke with his big puppy eyes, etc. It was CRAZY and it sparked a new wave of meta and commentary, this time MUCH more confident that what we were seeing was real to some extent.

Oh and when filming for TLJ began and we learned that Adam was filming on Skellig Island with Daisy and Mark… that… that was the beginning of a new wave of fanfics, as you can imagine. And the leak of the exploding hut, which most of us thought was BS because it sounded too much like a reylo dream.

2016 was really a crazy year for Reylo shippers.

#anon #asks #the golden age #fandom #/#reylo

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nutslovesdolts · 5 years

Text

Qrowin week day 3 (give it up for day three)

so yeah I wrote this now, it’s almost 2am and I gotta wake up early, who even reads this part anyways haha, enjoy

Scarf

It had been an hour since Tai and the entirety of team RWBY and… JNR(?) had left Winter and Qrows small festive home in the woods, the small cabin was built by the pair only 3 months previous. Winter had been completely turned off at the idea of any kind of shows of wealth or grandeur by her father, and Qrow never had much to begin with and liked this kind of small cozy nest like home.

2 years ago Winter had confessed to Qrow her true feelings, feelings that she was always taught to suppress through her life, but that was just it. When she was around Qrow she could let it all out, and she knew he could take it and wanted more.

Qrow had planned on confessing to her on that exact same day, and after a heated but regulated duel overseen by Ironwood who labeled it as a “training exercise” (both Qrow and Winter had spoken to him about their true intentions previously but unknown from one another)

The entire second floor was their bedroom completed by its own fireplace to match the one downstairs, a extremely re-enforced bed which its supports already showed signs of wear and tear, and a few end tables with lamps and the like, there was one closet where they both kept around 37 copies of the exact same every day clothing and about 3 extra clothing items for special occasions, with one dresser at the far end of the room next to the stairs.

The ground floor was wider and was made up of three rooms, the living room, which had chairs and a small couch surrounding the fireplace where a hearty fire was softly crackling, leftover wrapping paper from the guests earlier were glistening in the flickering light.

The other room was the small kitchen that smelled strongly of hazelnut and gingerbread

And of course a workroom filled with all sorts of odds and ends for the two to repair and tinker with their weapons.

Winter sat on the couch resting her head on Qrows shoulder, the firelight dancing on her face, she had never been happier in her entire life, right now she had no worries, no responsibilities, and could simply be at peace.

She snuggled closer to Qrow and let out a content hum

Qrow was more relaxed then he had thought humanly (or avianly) possible, It would almost be concerning for him if it weren't for the love of his life cuddling close by his side. He had always assumed because of his semblance that he would live alone somewhere, but as luck would have it, Winter didn’t mind a slip up here or there, as she put it It kept life interesting.

I wonder if she'll like it, he thought to himself. Winter wasn't exactly the easiest person to buy for, she hated anything overly extravagant or intricate except when it came to weapons. She also somehow knew exactly what to buy for Qrow, not once had she failed to deliver something he didn’t cherish to this day. For her, nothing in the world was good enough. That's why he decided not to simply buy anything, but to attempt to make it. He already knew how to sew as his cape managed to get torn to shreds every time a grimm got near him, not to mention back in the tribe it was how they kept themselves together, in just about every sense.

Winter stirred next to him, lifting her loving beautiful face so that they locked eyes

I never knew this was all I wanted Qrow, she sighed in peace. Just you and me, some peace and quiet, and all the time in the world just for us.

Qrow leaned in and gently pressed on her lips with his so they were eye to eye. Everything I ever dreamed about is currently two inches from my face and aaalllll mine, I agree, this is the life he said with his playful smirk.

That look was something that drove Winter wild, after their duel at Atlas when she confessed to him her feelings, he had used that same look before laughing, but not a cold cruel laugh like she was expecting at the time, but a warm loving laugh that told her everything she needed to know.

She leaned in and kissed him gently, slowly getting more aggressive with each passing second.

Qrow pulled back gasping for air, dang Ice Queen, your gonna suck the life outa me before the fun begins haha

Winter Blushed a deep scarlet red and pulled back off of him, You know I can't help it she giggled, Oh! Qrow I almost forgot. She said reaching behind the couch, Please open mine first, og but open the small one first! She said obviously trying to hide her excitement

Two of em Ice Queen? Must be a pretty special occasi… Qrow had been gingerly unwrapping the smaller gift to find a stuffed crow wearing a small cable knit sweater with a snowflake on it.

Qrow just stared at it for a moment taking in the idea of wearing this around the kingdoms when in bird form… yeah maybe around the house for Winters sake, but no one else could know

Qrow sighed and quickly turned into bird form noseing his way into the snugly fitting sweater

Winter covered her mouth with both hands to keep her explosion of laughter contained, she went red faced from the pressure and burst out in the most beautiful laughter Qrow had ever heard.

As he turned back to human form she gave Winter a playful sideways look, Only for you Ice Queen hehe, only for you

Winter finally gasped for air from her laughter and threw her arms around Qrow, I knew you’d look cute in it haha, she stated triumphantly, OOO now open the other one she said practically jumping up and down in her seat.

Qrow started unwrapping the small box carefully. He hadn't seen her that happy since they finished the house hehe

Under the paper the box was black with a red bow, as Qrow moved the bow out of the way and opened the box, he found a single bronze gear at the bottom, Last month in a battle with an extremely oversized Grimm that looked like a nevermore but with bladed wings, Qrow’s Scythe Harbinger had taken a hard blow shattering one near irreplaceable gear (the craftsman who had made the gears had died during a horrible grimm attack on his remote village, no other craftsman had yet been able to replicate this delicate piece) vital to its transformation, just his luck eh? Qrow would have been utterly emotionally defeated if it weren't for Winter,he spent a vast majority of his time searching for a replacement but found he was now stuck with only one form, at least until after the holidays.

For the first time in a long time Qrow felt his eyes water up a little bit. Winter noticed this and wiped them away and looked him dead in the eyes. Now you better not have gotten rusty over this last month, she cooed, We can’t have a under practiced bird prot… OOF… before she could finish Qrow had rushed in and given her a long deep kiss.

How did you even, he started but was cut off by Winter placing a finger to his lips, It’s my secret, she said with a devilish smirk, and you'll have to try MUCH harder to get that out of me tonight, she said in a slow seductive tone.

Qrow felt his mouth water a bit at the thought but quickly brushed away the thought as he reached behind the couch and pulled out his seamingly meger gift for her, he knew it would pale in comparison to the lengths she had gone to, but he hoped with all his heart she would at least like it.

Winter slowly examined the long flat rectangular box, it almost seemed weightless.

Qrow watched nervously as she started pulling the lid off the box, her eyes widened as she looked inside.

Winter pulled out a long obviously handsewed Light and dark blue scarf with snowflake inlays almost identical to her glyphs, at the center of each glyph was a small image of a black crow, inlaid in the background of the scarf were beautiful depictions of small villages and at the opposite end of the scarf was a picture of the arena where she had confessed to him, At the center was a note.

You are all I am, my beautiful snowflake

The other side of the scarf was bland and seemed to fit the military dress code matching her uniform, It was carefully tailored to blend in with her Jacket without detracting from the uniformity of the military

Winter felt a large mass of tears well up in her eyes before she started full on crying, all manner of grace and order lost

Qrow gave her a huge hug, regret building up in his chest, He knew it was too much, he knew it would remind her of her childhood, all this dark thoughts building up in his mind caused him to start to shake, until winter placed her hands on his cheeks and looked at him through teary eyes,

Did you make this? She asked through tears

Yeah… Qrow said roughly, he couldn’t meet her eyes

Winter pulled him into a passionate kiss completely upending Qrow causing them to both fall over into the couch.

Qrow, Winter said, this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen…. When did you learn to.. She was stopped by Qrow with that same playful look in his eye, all negative feelings gone in a flash, he placed one finger on her lips and seductively said, Well I guess you’ll have to try MUCH harder to get that out of me Ice Quee...nn… he trailed off, he was met with the most longing and starving look Winter eyes had ever betrayed, like a cat about to pounce

He was instantly tackled tackled by Winter

It would be a great night after all

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

OOF IT’S 1:45 NOW AND I HAVE TO WAKE UP EARLY

Hope you all enjoy, I just keep writing so I guess we'll see if it lets me post it all

This is my third ever fic, Just figured Id write it now just in case I lose motivation again

HAPPY QROWIN WEEK

#qrowin #qrowinweek #qrowinweek2018 #qrow branwen #rwby qrow #qrowinfest #winter schnee #rwby #day three #give it up for day three #snowbird #snowbirds #Rubys uncle

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theawkwardterrier · 5 years

Text

2018 fic roundup

Buffyverse

well tell her that I miss our little talks So Hurry Up and Lose Me, Hurry Up and Find Me (Again) Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?) To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened

MCU

But A Walking Shadow Out of the Frying Pan Hand in Hand, Side by Side to walk to where you are sleeping To The Neighborhood Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling? By Those Who Show Up Stitch Together In Spirit of the Season Childhood Friends

Veronica Mars

not just about being new (it’s about a change)

1. Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?:

Still not predicting, but probably around the predictable amount? I've gotten a little longer, I think, but I'm writing fewer stories overall, and I've really fallen into a few specific fandom categories - haven't added a new one in a while.

2. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?:

Dick/OC. Dick/anyone was a surprise. I'm generally frustrated and uninterested in Dick, so taking him on as a main character - when typically he's been a side role in my fic at best - is unexpected. I was just really drawn to the prompt.

3. What’s your own favorite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest?

I'm really proud of To The Neighborhood. I like the POV, I think the character flowed well, it has a particular tone throughout, and everything is built using small details without info dumps. And I'm always a big fan of domesticity too - sweet, settled life is always a joy for me to write!

4. Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

It's weird to say at this point, but I think I've been playing around with AUs a little too much. Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?) and Hand in Hand, Side by Side are really prime examples of this: they aren't just timeline changes or ways of placing the characters in similar roles in non supernatural settings, they are way, way big and entire AUs. I really like them conceptually - ya girl loves a good (or not good!) romcom - but they are really quite out of the ordinary. I guess I learned that I kinda don't care - I wrote it because I liked it, and I had fun with it!

5. Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?

Nah. I finished my Woman Borne sequel, which was the goal I had set at the beginning of last year, and I'm probably just going to resign my work on my too ambitious Chase/Cameron fic, so I'm good.

6. From my past year of writing, what was…

Story Most Underappreciated by the Universe:

But A Walking Shadow. I'm not afraid to say how sad I am about this. I'm really, intensely proud of this story: the writing is good, the characters are good, it's lengthy (for me), it's chapter fic, it's part of a universe I've already worked on, there's action instead of just Emotional Talking - it felt like I did everything right, and it still didn't make a difference.

Most Fun:

Hand in Hand, Side by Side probably - I like Steve/Peggy and a Virtue/Moir AU for them was a blast to write. But I actually had a lot of fun with a bunch of them!

Most Disappointing:

By Those Who Show Up is a little too liberal wonky - too much political talk, not quite enough emotional buildup. To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened is also a little exhausting and repetitive in concept and would have probably been better if there were more substance between the little stories, but I really like the title, so that helps it out.

Most Sexy:

Steve and Peggy end up in a bed and kiss there in Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling? so ha ha ha, that is extremely sexy!

Hardest to Write:

They kinda ended up in either the "it took four days from beginning to final edit" category, or the "I'm afraid I might just be writing this for the next several years" one this time around. I took a lot of care with But A Walking Shadow, and I stopped writing Childhood Friends for a while to work on other stuff and there was a point where I couldn't make In Spirit of the Season not incredibly depressing and a piece of Peggy character assassination, but most of my Buffy fics were like this (well tell her that I miss our little talks was the exception - that's why it's listed as posted like three weeks before the rest of them).

Most Unintentionally Telling:

As I was writing In Spirit of the Season, I literally said aloud, "I think I might have something weird going on internally with motherhood."

Choice Lines:

From But A Walking Shadow:

The force of her fingers, the directness of her gaze: for a moment he fears that she is about to kiss his mouth with the desperate confidence he’d felt before he’d boarded Schmidt’s plane. But instead, she leans up and presses her lips beneath his ear. He shivers; he always does, there, and she knows that.

He just can’t think of the noise and the flames, the collapse, when his mind and heart and guts weigh so human inside him.

The anger is worn and so tired inside of him.

"I don’t want to kill you,” says the man, pushing the words out. The soldier's arm, built to last, built to kill, shakes at the thought that he will die gasping. “And I don’t want to die. And I can’t bring you to meet my family like this.” His frame trembles. His eyes are magnified, wide as the stars.

There is such future and fragility in yet.

He remembers the way she fit in two hands the first time he held her, how she sometimes trips downstairs and curls up sleepily in his lap when he comes back from a run early in the morning. He loves her so much. Finally, he hugs her. “Have a good day, sweetheart,” he says, and lets her go.

From to walk to where you are sleeping:

“Enough is enough,” she tells herself most mornings, when she wakes up gritty-eyed and already teary from dreaming. “Enough is enough,” when she wants to tell Steve about her day, when she spots hair like his from the corner of her eye, when she has another lonely cup of tea at her table, when she wants just a bit of his optimism to drive her onward. “It was two years out of more than twenty, it is time to be done with mourning, enough is enough.” And then one night she opens her eyes into the darkness of her bedroom and tells herself, “Enough.”

He is here, he is here: what fragile and disturbing joy.

She watched so many good people die - not just Steve, not just her brother, but the boys who came from her home village, and the sweet air force pilot she’d kissed on the New Year of 1940, and the lady who’d sold ice cream through the Blitz and been suffocated by an improperly constructed Anderson shelter - and perhaps she doesn’t have to turn her grief out of doors and lock herself up.

From To The Neighborhood:

For a moment, she regrets not having one of those emergency call buttons that her daughter Joan (Dr. Oglethorpe hasn’t been allowed to call her Joanie in years) recommends when she makes her monthly call from Columbus, or at least a cellular phone.

From Oh, But Aren't You Already My Darling?:

Steve rests his hands on her wrists, so gentle, and she wants to cry. “Peg,” he says quietly, “can you maybe track me down a pair of pants? I know my legs aren’t really working yet, but I’ve had enough of showing off in a hospital gown for one lifetime.”

From By Those Who Show Up:

“Hell yeah,” says Bucky. “I was over there ten years and only lost an arm. Six months of doing this with you and I’ve basically lost my life.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m thinning up top, Steve, I swear to God.”

From well tell her that I miss our little talks:

(Note to self: start organizing things on the kitchen calendar. Note to self: get a kitchen calendar.)

There's basically cartoony whistling sound, like her optimism is Wile E. Coyote falling off a cliff.

She hugged a pillow against her chest. She’d sign him up for a couple of community college mailing lists; maybe sitting in the back of some dense philosophy class would remind him why college wasn’t for everyone, or at least distract him. Her luck: he’d get all nerdy enthusi-Angel and just double down on the college fun talk. She really missed him. “Anyway,” she recalled herself. “I’m thinking maybe going all in on the spick and span could have something to do with you turning the dial up to Angel on the Broodometer.”

"....You’re allowed to think that you’re worth more than him, even if he was the one with the pulse.”

From So Hurry Up and Lose Me, Hurry Up and Find Me (Again):

Also, Angel has to be worried about being ‘busted, and not just in the Dust way.

How glad she is for him, knowing what he’s been through, knowing for herself how frightening it is to dangle unsupported and exhaust yourself hoping for a loving hand.

When Willow is like this, firm steps and a commanding voice, closed eyes as she puts a hand on the last sorcerer's shoulder, it’s hard for Buffy to hold in her mind Willow shy and sweet at sixteen. But then Will nods to Buffy, and without a thought, Buffy fells the robed woman. They’ve both changed. Neither of them will ever be sixteen again.

From Here We Are, Trapped (But Is It a Trap If I'm With You?):

“No. I’m counting on you to do the right thing for everyone, even if it might happen to include you.”

From To All Our Histories Which Haven't Yet Happened:

“He was younger than I am now, and older than you would want to be.”

From Childhood Friends:

Peggy, who had spent the afternoon she received the letter holding the hand of a boy - and he had been a boy - as he screamed and screamed toward death, had delayed replying, as she had not been able to summon a response to such grievances for nearly a week.

That she had spent her childhood at this very house with her dresses in a hopeless muddle and her knees insistently grass-stained, and that Steve had recently seen her in both a wrinkled nurse’s uniform after a night shift and indifferent mourning crepe below a tear-stained face, made her only more determined to put her best foot forward in this encounter.

...and Peggy concentrated on the feeling of his hand in hers, on the heat of him through his jacket, and felt despair and grave hope.

But her husband, who remembered a similar expression on his own mother’s face when he had professed his intention to marry Amanda, upon hearing whose surname even Charles II would have replied “Whom?” pulled her toward himself once more and said only, “Let them dance.”

#the only thing i still post on livejournal #my fic reflections for the year

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