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septembercfawkes · 3 months

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How to Convert Exposition into Ammunition

Exposition is all the facts and information conveyed to the audience. It's facts about the setting, the worldbuilding, the characters, the current situation, the history, the magic or technology, or anything else that is straight-up information. Every story needs some exposition, but for all of us, it's been tricky to handle at one point or another.

One of the quickest ways to tell a beginning writer from an experienced writer, is how he or she handles exposition. Beginners often cram in too much too fast, leading to poor pacing, info-dumps, or maid-and-butler dialogue. Professional writers know how to expertly weave exposition into the story, so that the audience is fed information without hardly noticing it.

Last year, I did a post on how to use turning points to help you discern what info to put in and what info to leave out, when. I mentioned that in his famous book, Story, Robert McKee has a maxim: "Convert exposition into ammunition."

It sounds great, right?

But like some of the most meaningful writing advice, it can be difficult to wrap your head around.

It sounds great, but like . . . how does one actually do that? And what does that actually mean?

Luckily, McKee does expound a bit on what he means, and today I'd like to expound on what he means by offering my own spin on it.

As McKee points out, "Show, don't tell" is key for exposition--we want to find ways to dramatize the information. Okay, great, chances are if you're reading my blog, you already know that. Still, it's often helpful to start with what you know.

McKee writes:

Dramatized exposition serves two ends: Its primary purpose is to further the immediate conflict. Its secondary purpose is to convey information. The anxious novice reverses that order, putting expositional duty ahead of dramatic necessity.

This is the part I want to emphasize: Its primary purpose is to further the immediate conflict.

Summed up into one simple line, this is what it means to turn exposition into ammunition.

But don't worry, I won't leave you with only that.

Cause if you know me, I like to go deep . . .

Load the Ammunition! Exposition as an Asset or Problem

Ammunition is meant to be shot, dropped, or detonated.

It's not something you use during peaceful circumstances (unless, of course, the peaceful circumstance is just covering up a silent struggle).

Because we want to connect the exposition to the current conflict, this means that one of two (or both) battling forces is loaded with the ammunition.

The protagonist.

Or the antagonist.

And when I say "antagonist," I'm not just talking about the main "bad guy."

The antagonistic force is whatever is opposing the protagonist in the pursuit of his goal. So while there is often a main antagonist, there will actually be lots and lots and lots of lesser antagonists. A rock may be an antagonist. A computer. A storm. A substance. A mouse. (Read more about this in "The True Purpose of Antagonists.")

Furthermore, the protagonist of a scene may not always be the main protagonist of the story (but more on that in a sec).

The protagonist is someone the audience is oriented toward (often the viewpoint character), who is pursuing a goal.

So, to simplify, the protagonist pursues a goal, and the antagonistic force opposes that.

This is what creates true conflict, which may or may not include flying fists or shouting matches. Conflict is simply the protagonist struggling to pursue the goal because of the antagonist.

When the protagonist is loaded with ammunition, it's an asset. He aims it at the antagonist to get the obstacle out of his way.

When the antagonist is loaded with ammunition, it's a problem. He (or it) aims it at the protagonist to get the protagonist out of the way.

This means that in order to make exposition into ammunition, we need to turn the information into an asset or a problem.

And it needs to become an asset or a problem for the current conflict. . . .

The Current Conflict

Okay, so, before we go much further, I need to briefly review a few concepts. If you've been following me a long time, I hope you won't want to aim your ammunition toward me, because we've gone over this a lot, but it's critical to make sure we are all on the same page, because everything builds off the basics.

Novelists often focus on the big main conflict that stretches through the length of the book, the global story or the narrative arc (depending on what terminology you prefer), and structurally, it looks like this:

The conflict creates the rising action. If we were to zoom in, it'd be like this . . .

But this isn't only true of the story as a whole. Story structure is a fractal, and this is true of smaller structural units as well.

This is true of acts (and the second act is commonly cut in half):

And it's also true of scenes:

They fit inside each other, like a Russian nesting doll.

This means nearly every scene has a conflict.

This also means that nearly every scene should have a goal.

And nearly every scene should have an antagonist.

Because, rising action only happens when a character is pursuing a goal and running into antagonistic forces (obstacles). This is what creates the climb, the escalation.

The difference is that in a scene, all these components happen to a smaller degree, than the story as a whole.

So, the protagonist and antagonist of a scene, may not always be the same as the main protagonist and main antagonist of the global story.

The primary purpose of exposition is to further the immediate conflict.

The immediate conflict is what's happening in the scene. It's the current scene's conflict.

And yes, often that conflict is also feeding into the act-level conflict, which is feeding into the global story conflict. Because the smaller units fit inside (and even make up) the larger units.

So we best turn exposition into ammunition, by making it ammunition for the current conflict.

For the scene-level conflict.

Let's talk about how to do that. . . .

Exposition as Ammunition

Just as that basic structural shape fits within itself, within scenes, so do all the basic elements of plot.

The primary principles of plot are goal, antagonist, conflict, and consequences (stakes & ramifications).

Every scene should have a goal, an antagonist, a conflict, and consequences.

Turning points are important too--those are the "climaxes" in the structures above--it's when the conflict hits a definitive outcome that changes the direction of the story. It turns it into falling action.

There are more plot elements that build off these, but these are the most important and most foundational. They almost always need to be there to create a great scene.

The way to turn exposition into ammunition, is to turn information into plot elements.

It's part of the goal. It's part of the antagonist. It's part of the conflict. It's part of the consequences. It's part of the turning point. (Or it's part of one of the other plot elements I didn't mention (I'm simplifying).)

Or even more simplistically speaking--it's an asset or a problem in the current situation.

Let's look at an example to demonstrate.

Example #1: Magic System Exposition into Ammunition

Say we have a magic system about shadows. Perhaps in it, if your shadow overlaps with another's, that person is more susceptible to your influence and manipulation. In your little fictive world, you think this is a cool idea, and of course, the audience needs to know about it.

But simply explaining it to the audience isn't plot. Exposition in and of itself, doesn't make plot. Exposition is just information, and it certainly isn't functioning as "ammunition."

How do we convert it into ammunition?

By connecting it to plot.

We make it the protagonist's goal to manipulate another character through her shadow. Now she watches light sources and where her shadow falls. Now she tries to get closer to this other person, without being obvious. It's interesting because it's relevant to what's happening at hand.

Or perhaps in this scene, this magic is part of the antagonistic force. Someone else is trying to stop the protagonist by manipulating her via shadow, and now she needs to make sure their shadows don't touch.

Or we bring the shadow magic into a different, current conflict. Maybe neither person originally intends to manipulate the other via shadow. They are arguing about something totally different. But as it escalates, one shadow falls over the other's and contributes to the situation. It helps the protagonist, or it creates more problems for the protagonist.

Or we tie it to the consequences. If the protagonist fails to outrun the antagonist (current conflict), the antagonist will force her down, then manipulate her to the point she's basically brainwashed via shadow magic.

Or, we make it part of the turning point. The current conflict escalates, and the way the "battle" is definitively lost or won is by manipulating someone via shadow.

It's not just information anymore. It's ammunition.

It's working as an asset or problem for the protagonist.

As the audience watches this play out, they barely recognize they are being fed information.

To them, they are simply being fed plot.

And it's scene-level plot. Meaning, it's immediately relevant.

Suddenly what could have been a boring chunk of info-dump is exhilarating. It has the audience on the edge of their seats.

Let's look at another example.

Example #2: Backstory Exposition into Ammunition

Let's say your character has a history with another character in the scene. They were childhood neighbors, and one time as kids they got into trouble. They were throwing water balloons at passing cars, and one of the drivers got out and chased them. They got cornered in an alley and the driver called the cops.

Now, these characters find themselves together again, and they are planning what to do next on their way toward the main plot goal.

So I could just dump in that backstory as exposition. . . .

Or I could find a way to turn it into ammunition.

Rather than having them peacefully planning together, it would likely be better if they were arguing about what to do next. This makes the second character an antagonist for the protagonist, within the scene.

Each person is trying to convince the other that their idea is great and the other person's is terrible.

As things get heated, the second character blames the protagonist for getting the cops called on them as kids.

This is now ammunition that feeds into the fight--it's the antagonist shooting it against the protagonist in the current conflict.

Now they are arguing about the water balloon incident.

So what was originally just info about their pasts, is now contributing to the current plot.

Let's do one more example . . .

Example #3: Character Exposition into Ammunition

Your character dreams of winning the upcoming beauty pageant. But that information isn't relevant to the current plot. Yet it's important information to know, because it conveys not only her interests but key skills she's going use in an upcoming scene.

You could try to shoehorn it in, or you could weave it into the current conflict.

Perhaps the current conflict is seemingly unrelated.

She has to walk home from work every day, and her goal is to get home before dark. She doesn't feel safe walking home in the dark.

Anything that delays her, becomes an antagonistic force.

She's facing stray dogs, street salesmen, and chatty acquaintances.

In her rush, she accidentally steps into a storm drain grate, which ruins her shoes.

The shoes she intends to wear to the beauty pageant (she shouldn't have worn them that day, but she had a nice presentation at work and took the risk).

This is a cost, or consequence (ramification) of her pursuing her home in a rush.

It's "shot" her in a way that impacts her future. It's thrown her trajectory at least slightly off balance.

It's a problem.

Contextual Exposition

Now, I want to acknowledge that not every single piece of information needs to be completely dramatized or "shown," and if it was, chances are the audience would feel like the story was lacking context.

Context is the information the audience needs to properly interpret the story. Without it, the audience feels a little blind. They need the narrator to guide them so they can appreciate what is unfolding.

So, if Joe calls Mack, "Sam," the audience wants a clue as to why. Is Sam a nickname? Is Joe bad at remembering names? Is Joe doing this to be rude? The audience doesn't know. They can't properly interpret what just happened. They need more insight.

If Joe calls Mack, "Sam," to be rude, then the narrator needs to drop a line of exposition to explain that. This is not only acceptable, but necessary.

In a strange way, though, this kinda brings us full circle.

Notice that this is providing context for the current conflict (or situation).

It's not information for the sake of information.

Having this information adds power to the current scene. It will help us understand that scene's conflict.

It doesn't take away or distract us from that scene.

In the same book, McKee talks about how you must pass on information that ensures the reader won't be confused. This is contextual information.

(Well, ensures the reader won't be unintentionally and unnecessarily confused. (In some rare exceptions, we may want the reader to be confused, but only briefly.))

McKee says, do pass on exposition if it reduces confusion.

Do write contextual exposition.

Even in my magic system example above, I would include contextual information. If I didn't, the audience wouldn't know to care two cents about the protagonist's shadow. They would probably feel confused on some level, when one character suddenly succumbs to the influence of the other, not understanding how or why.

Contextual exposition helps build the framework of the current scene's plot.

It may not be ammunition, but it's the material of the weapon that will hold the ammunition.

If there is no weapon, the ammunition doesn't do so much.

Reveal the information that will make the ammunition most impactful in the story.

When you do that, it's still relevantly tied to the current plot.

#writeblr #writeblogging #writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writing tip #writing help #writing advice #writer #writing #writing reference #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity

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pastelcheckereddreams · 5 months

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Sooo, I bought the Lotus Tower model kit and, of course, I went overboard making it as accurate as possible to the show. To no one's surprise, I'm guessing? 😅

For reference, this is what the completed model (sans horses) looks like without most* of my alterations:

*The awning material and decoration is my only alteration at this point, as I didn't like the fabric they included with the kit.

I had so much fun with this model! It is well-made, has moving parts, and is actually fairly easy to put together, with most parts just clicking into place. It even has furniture details inside!

Let me know what you think! Have you got the kit? How are you finding the building process to be? If you want to hear a more detailed review of it and see my progress shots and details of my own creative additions, click below:

First, unboxing!

This is how the box arrives. I ordered it from CPOP Universe and it arrived well-packaged and undamaged within a matter of weeks.

Along with the kit itself - which as you can see consists of a stack of laser-cut sheets coded from A-Q, and numbers detailing the specific parts - you receive a coaster (ceramic, backed with cork, and very pretty), little standees of difanghua, a letter styled after the ones difang recieve from Li Lianhua, and a replica of the booklet of yangzhouman techniques.

The process:

The first floor came together pretty quickly:

Glue is provided, but isn't necessary for a lot of the pieces, as I found the measurements for a lot of the joints to be pretty snug and able to hold together themselves. Glue is necessary for some parts, though, particularly for areas such as the step up to the rear sleeping area. Strong glue. Here is what the fist floor looks like:

Fitting on the ceiling turned out to be the hardest part of most of the build. All of the holes on the second floor had to line up with every joint on top of the walls and doors.

The next big step I encountered was a curiosity. How to make the rear wall work? There was a curious piece clearly meant to anchor the rope, and a round hole that - much like the doors - meant that this piece was supposed to rotate - and even lock. But I received no instructions on how to achieve that. I found this puzzle (which I like to think was an intentional challenge, given the gadget-orientated FDB) to be a fun challenge. So I won't show you the inner workings and spoil it, but I'll show you the working product:

Next was the rather fiddly job of creating the sail awning. I imagine this will be quite difficult for some as there's no clear indication of how to fix the material in place.

My instinct was to sew it as that is also a craft I have practice in, though granted not everyone who buys this kit will be as comfortable with a sewing needle. The two swatches of fabric provided is also quite prone to fraying, and is quite thick and canvas-like. So, knowing that the awning is a big feature of Lotus Tower, I decided I could do better:

On the left is the provided fabric, and on the right is my own material (an old blouse that I never wore, with patches dyed with my promarker pens).

After that, things should've been an easy home run, as all I had to do was affix the wheels to their axis points and put the horses together. However, quite unfortunately, one of the wheels hadn't been cut out in my kit. I had to cut it out myself with a coping saw, a Stanley knife and much patience😅

It came out looking rough, but nothing a little sanding and a touch up with my promarkers couldn't fix. I also eventually glued the wheel caps to the axis to prevent the wheels popping off every time I touched it, and they all still spin fine (minus the one I had to cut myself, that one's a little sticky😅). Then came the horses, and I was done!

Or so I thought. "Don't you think it looks a little too brown?" said my detail-obsessed brain. "We could do... more...."

And so I did.

My additions:

I used scraps coloured by my blue marker to create the beams of the house, and later coloured the fence posts red.

I made a second sail to hand under the stairs.

I created a second planter box (again, from the scraps and coloured with promarkers - two sets of flowers were included in the kit, so I could put one in each planter.)

And I even created a rain chain using old earring backs, jewellery findings and a chain, spray painted matte black and then painted blue-grey.

To colour the roofs, I likewise painted them a light blue-grey (/brown for Hulijing's kennel), then used a darker blue promarker to roughly add in texture.

I painted the weather vane, and used scraps to add in its missing two cardinal points.

And then finally, I made a winch for the rear wall! It's also easy to turn with the roof on, so I'm very pleased even though it's a little rough looking 😅

Had to gif my video clip because tumblr said boo no to more than one :(

And that's it, that's my latest build! I found this kit very fun, loved the process and seeing Lotus Tower come to life. I also loved adding in all the details to make it just that bit more accurate to the show. My only true criticisms are 1) small design oversights with the base wood colour being a tad too dark imo; the missing arms on the weather vane; and no second flowerbed (although I may be being a tad too pedantic about it 😅). 2) The fact that one of the wheels in my kit didn't get cut out properly (a quality check issue).

Obviously, I made the choice to use a different material than the fabric included so I can't speak to how satisfactory it is. However, if I were ever in the position to give IQiYi direct feedback, I'd suggest they include thinner fabric, and paint (or paint suggestions, as I know model paints aren't usually allowed through customs in these kinds of kits) for the roofs, because (by way of how they're constructed) they're just raw edges of the reinforced card parts - completely uncoloured, despite being a very visual element of the piece.

Thank you for reading this far lol Keep an eye out for more art and craft posts! (I have a Siji Manor set update coming shortly 👀)

#mysterious lotus casebook #lotus tower #莲花楼 #lian hua lou #model kit #model building #my builds #nikkidraws #iqiyi merch #mlc merch #mysterious lotus casebook merch #arts and crafts #li lianhua #li xiangyi #lian hua lou merch #lhl merch #now where do i keep this thing

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yuna542 · 1 year

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Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 13<-

Part 14

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Angst, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, pet names, oral (m receiving), deep throating

Word Count: 2.4k

Note: Yea I know, I know. It’s been a while and now the part is so short… But believe me it’s just part one of my Seungmin fantasy. Wait and see my babes. Wrote a big ass part including your suggestions. If you're nice, I'll think about uploading it earlier… ;)

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

The video-shoot of Seungmin's part in the teaser turned out to be more difficult than expected. The scenes that were supposed to be prepared by the film crew just didn't work out and every few seconds something went wrong. It was extremely stressful, especially for Seungmin, because he was always being shooed from one place to another and it was boiling inside him by now, you could feel it.

Even though you had some days off, you had to join the shoot, otherwise nothing would have worked at all. Thanks to makeup, you were able to cover up the hickeys Hyunjin gave you a bit. But in the chaos, nobody paid any attention to you anyway.

Chan's part was finished pretty quickly and he was able to go back to JYP Entertainment to continue working on the album. But Seungmin was now getting all the stress from the director due to the absence of the leader.

You tried to solve the problems, but most of it was out of your control. The film crew kept messing up and you felt increasingly sorry for Seungmin. He actually had other things to do today, but, since it was already late afternoon, he wouldn't be able to make it.

That just meant a stricter schedule and way more stress for him. As you waited once again for a scene to be shot, as everyone on the set fucked up again, you gently stroked his shoulder.

"Are you okay, Minnie?", you asked softly, so only he could hear. His hands were tense and pressed tightly against his thighs. He was clearly frustrated and stressed out. This phase of preparation for the comeback was not healthy anymore and you tried everything to help the kids with their schedules but most of the time you had to care about your own work to make everything easier for them.

"It's just ridiculous now... It's setting us back for days", he growled and you pressed your lips together.

"I'm sorry. I'm already trying everything, but..."

"It's not your job, it's the film crew's job!”, he snapped angrily.

“The fact that you have to take care of it now is unacceptable. It makes me even more mad", he replied a little louder so the staff around you could hear it clearly.

Seeing him like this was painful. All this was stressing him more than he was showing, you knew that very well. The boys were already crushed by the strict time schedule and the fact that all of you couldn't even meet for dinner or a quick chat by now was awful. After a few more tries, they were at least able to wrap up the main part, but you were sent away again to wait until it was done.

"It'll be midnight by the time we get home", he sighed, annoyed, as you entered the backstage area of the set.

Here you were finally alone, away from all the hustle and noise.

"You just have to take one more shot, then we'll get out of here!", you assured him. Even if he didn't, you'd make sure of it. He was exhausted and overworked. It was enough for today and if someone would try to tell you something different, you weren't afraid to throw hands.

But at the moment you wanted most to take all the tension off his shoulders. Together you leaned next to the door, waiting for the shoot to finally go on, and he put his head back, staring at the ceiling and groaning:

"I can't do all this anymore... I'm so tense."

You ran your fingers over the hem of your top and said:

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? Release your tension somehow?"

After he didn't answer, you looked at him questioningly. But he already looked intently at your lips, and his eyes then traveled down your body, lingering on your neckline.

"Yes... You actually could."

His expression had changed. Instead of the sweet gleam in his eyes, there was now a dangerous twinkle. You could see all the pent-up strain in his face and breathed:

"Anything you want, Minnie."

He pulled you in front of him and cupped your cheek with his hand.

"Are you sure this is what you want?", he asked softly, letting his eyes roam over your face. You nodded curtly and the tension between you hit like a wrecking ball.

"Use me as you need."

His thumb brushed across your lips, leaving a tingle. With the other hand he pulled you closer by the waist before putting a hand around your neck without applying pressure.

Your words were enough to mess with his fantasies and he couldn’t wait to release some stress.

"Then get on your knees!"

His voice was low, but nevertheless cutting like a blade. You sank to your knees in front of him and looked up at him through your thick lashes without hesitation.

He could see your bra from this angle, the way it hugged your chest and hid away more than he wanted it to. He wanted to use you to get rid of all the anger that built up inside of him and that you looked so pretty spurred him even more on.

"I can think of some work for that sweet little mouth", he said, fully focused on your lips and brushed some hair out of your face.

"Open your blouse. Let me see your tits, sweetheart!"

His harsh tone left you questioning nothing. Surely you wanted to take the stress off of him and at the same time you felt the excitement in your stomach blooming as the bulge in his pants hovered right in front of your face. You undid the buttons of your top until your bra popped out and he licked his lips at the sight. You on your knees, ready to be used by him. This made him go feral and his head went blank.

You ran your hands along his thighs until you could feel the imprint of his length under your fingers. He grabbed your wrist and pressed your hands right on it and moved them around slightly, pushing and rubbing at his dick through the fabric of his cotton pants. You could feel it starting to stiffen, growing in your hand. It wasn’t even fully hard yet and you could tell that it was big.

"Take it out!", he said then and immediately your body also started to heat up, your face flushing, a familiar tension growing between your thighs that made your head fuzzy. You opened his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear.

His dick popped out and he gasped in relief. His length was now right in your face, so close you could smell his scent and see a bit of precum leaking from his tip. His dick was big and you could only starte at it, thinking about how you would gag on it.

Suddenly he grabbed a fist of your hair and jerked your head back so you were looking at him.

"What are you waiting for, doll?", he asked sharply, and you gasped at the sudden firm grip. His eyes were blazing with desire and he finally needed an outlet to release all that frustration. You held eye contact with him as you opened your mouth and he watched his dick disappear between your lips.

"There you go... fuck... ah I knew you were a good fucking slut", his voice rumbled low in his belly as you began bobbing your head back and forth at a steady pace. You massaged his length at the same time with your tongue and were slurping on his tip shamelessly. You added a hand as you felt his legs shake and deep moans escaped from him. His grip on your hair tightened.

"Fuck your mouth feels so good, keep taking me like that, good girl!"

You continued until you felt his other hand on your neck and a gulping sound escaped you as he began to snap his hips against your mouth in addition to your movement. Pulling on your hair, he pulled your head back until his throbbing thick slipped completely out of your mouth, rubbing just the tip against your plush lips.

He took a moment to look at you, completely under his control and he imagined what you must look like tied up as he thrusted into your dripping pussy.

"You look so pretty with my cock fucking your mouth", he said with a sinful smile, gripping your hair hard in his hand, pulling you back onto his length and swiftly shoving his dick back into your spit-filled mouth before you had time to react.

You whimpered softly as he started to put all his frustration and stress into his movements without any consideration. At the same time he buckled his hips harder against your mouth, and he bumped hard into your throat every time. By now he slammed into your face rough and fast, holding your hair tightly so you couldn't pull away. You gagged because of his immense size and only got air through your nose. Slurping noises and desperate muffled moans escaped you.

He was ruthless and that soaked your panties completely. The head of his dick bullied the back of your throat, his length moving in and out of your mouth with each relentless buck of his hips. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes due to the rough motion and you could no longer suppress the dirty whimpering and gagging.

"Oh god, you're gonna make me cum makin' pretty sounds like that", he chuckled, trying not to moan and slam harder into your already overstrained mouth. He fucked your face without mercy and you pressed your thighs together to keep from dripping on the floor. Then you felt him tighten his hand around your neck and you moaned loudly between his thrusts.

"Oh, you like that. My hand around your throat?"

He now squeezed a little tighter, but not enough to cut off your oxygen. He looked down at you and was only pushed further. You were surprised the way the lovingly boy was using you so roughly, but you could feel your whole body heating up from the fire that was by now burning deep inside you.

Your pussy felt painfully untouched and wet between your legs, but he didn't stop and became even faster. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't resist. He was caught up in the bliss. You were gagging around him, making naughty, wet sounds as he used your mouth like his own personal fucktoy.

When he rutted even deeper into your throat, you felt him start twitching, wet sounds filling your ears as he fucked into your face, making you cry due to the little air you got through your nose and the painful abuse of your mouth.

"Touch yourself, doll!", he demanded between his moans and he didn't have to say that twice. You started to twirl your clit between your fingers and quickly to rub harder. It didn't take long and your orgasm rolled in. When you came, he let go of you for a moment as your body trembled, but before you could see clearly again, he grabbed your hair again, and lined himself back up with your lips. With a low moan, he was pushing himself back into your mouth. You took him willingly, tongue out, eyes trained up on him and your body still tingled from the high.

You moaned around him, appreciating the way his hard cock filled your mouth and made your jaw ache. Your throat was burning, jaw sore, but you couldn't stop to suck him off. His dick was like a drug you couldn’t stop taking.

„Fuck so pretty... You doing so good babe!", he mumbled between choked breaths while he watched you getting ruined by him. Your cheeks were stained with tears and Make-up and your lips were swollen.

Then he fell apart. He threw his head back, brows stitched together and with a final push into your throat, he came into your mouth. You swallowed all of it and he looked at you with a relieved smile while he pulled his dick out of you.

His hand was still wrapped up in your hair, keeping you in place for him as he came down. He wiped some more cum from your lip with his thumb and then pulled you to your feet.

Just in time, as someone knocked on the door and entered shortly after.

Seungmin quickly pulled up his pants and you turned away. Your face and hair were probably a disaster, which is why you quickly went to the bathroom while Seungmin was taken back to the set to finally do the last shots.

You didn't get a chance to talk again there.

As he got ready to head to the dorms, he looked completely exhausted, though not as tense anymore. You would definitely come up with something else to get back at him a little.

The next day everybody was busy with their schedules, while you cleaned out your apartment, which was good as you could barely speak properly without scratchy pain in your throat.

The boys took turns helping you when their work allowed it, so it only took a few days to have all your belongings in your new room.

That you would soon be a part of the Stray Kids dorms was still a strange idea. But Chan already announced it accidentally on a stream and fans had been beyond excited about it ever since. Unofficially you were counted as the 9th member of the band, by stay, which was funny considering you only ended up there because of your job.

You were the sensation of the industry at the moment and social media was flooded with edits and clips of you with the boys.

Exactly like Mrs Chung said, there were also many theories as to whether you dated or even slept with any of the kids. These headlines ensured Stray Kids were in the news ahead of their comeback, which was JYP's goal all along.

You could only hope that things would continue to go so well for you. Because if someone found out that you even slept with the whole band, you'd be screwed.

->Part 15

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winchester-reload · 1 year

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I have a few thoughts about the Winchesters finale, and though I wasn’t gonna weigh in on this, it turns out I needed to write this down to get it out of my head, so here we go.

I understand that Misha was approached to be included on the show and that there was a “scheduling conflict” that included multiple conversations with Jensen. Here’s my interpretation of that:

I believe Cas was supposed to make a cameo in episode 13 to tee up the confession resolution—this was always the episode where they were going to crack open the “surprise twist” even before learning they would only get 13 episodes total. In the original scenario, episode 13 would have been the hellatus episode rather than a finale, leaving room for everything to come to a head with episode 22 instead. It’s then they would have given us the actual Dean and Cas reunion. This would have wrapped both stories nicely with each group going off into their own respective sunsets—their own happy endings, while still leaving all the room for the new crew to explore more seasons; all along, we see, The Winchesters was about Dean and Cas as much as it was about Mary and John.

When they didn’t get the back half of the season picked up, I assume they feared it would be more dangerous to show a Cas cameo without getting to address the confession, so Misha likely opted to be left out instead. With the only hint to Cas being Dean’s line that he was looking for his family when he found the Akrida, then directly drawing the parallel that Jack and Bobby were “family.” The core crew for Dean has always been Bobby, Sam, Jack, AND Cas. And he wasn’t looking for Sam because he was still on earth. So who’s left? You might be compelled to believe he was window shopping AU versions of his parents, but he confirms he ran into the Akrida in this world and then sought to interfere with the order by approaching John in an effort to prevent it from spreading to Sam's world. (Why Cas would be AU hopping, idk. The boy is really afraid of being shot down, I guess.)

It goes far to explain the vast narrative parallels we saw reflected in the Monster Club crew if it was intended as a setup for the confession payoff. It honestly doesn’t make a lot of sense otherwise. There’s no reason these people should be living Dean's experiences and regrets every episode unless the writers wanted the viewer to be thinking about the lessons and resolutions in how they relate to Dean too.

Additionally, as this has been a largely uncontested take, this is Jensen's well-funded fanfic come to life. Complete with the embracing of many of our favorite fanfic tropes and emphasized by Dean’s own words throughout the season. Because this is an obvious embrace of that “write your own story” fan side, I believe the reason Dean couldn’t even say Cas’ name in the episode is because they were going to change the spelling from “Cass” as it was in the show proper to the fan-adopted (and more accurate) spelling of “Cas,” which would have appeared in the subtitles and later the script pages. And even that little thing right there would have been a huge giveaway to the whole game. And a very dangerous thing to do if there wasn’t going to be enough time for follow-through.

But the truth is, this isn’t a game for many people, and the harm that can be caused by good intentions is just as real. It also begs the question: why should this be so difficult? The answer is it’s not. Edging forever isn’t fun. It’s torture. I understand there’s an art to storytelling, but your audience is weary, and trust has been violated too many times. Even still, the flip side of that coin is honest to god respect for DeanCas endgame means taking the story and the reveal seriously. It’s a tightrope walk. And one that Robbie somehow managed to keep balanced after the finale, without it falling either way. Also we also need to consider the possibility that Jensen did pitch a full-on destiel love story spin-off but got shot down, opting to couch it in a more CW-branded world instead. He’s mentioned over half a dozen pitches were rejected. It's up to you whether you want to give him the benefit of the doubt on that.

But, I’m gonna be honest here, I don’t know that we will ever get that resolution we crave. Even Robbie confirmed The Winchesters were always meant to “go it alone” after the first season. It’s hard to imagine Dean popping in there to fuck around again after that handoff. But the dude is clearly a very restless sea-faring*, swoopy-haired mofo right now, so I’ll leave that one up to the SPN multiverse and the new Mr. Superwholock’s magical universe-traveling impala. (This show used to be about what again? *looks at notes*.) And FWIW, if they do get green-lit for a whole second season or are allowed to move networks, I believe a good-faith effort will be made to tie the narrative parallels we saw in season one to some real Dean and Cas resolution. If there gets to be a world where John *might* not turn into an abusive dick, then this possibility has to be true too.

For the record, I enjoyed The Winchesters, all the new characters, and the doors the finale opened for the possibility of more. I would have been fine half-watching it with no promises, empty head no thoughts, but I got my clown** suit on again, and though I mostly kept quiet, unlike last time, I did regrettably manage to drag a few friends down with me yet again. Though the spec sessions were epic, and we did get some art out of it—it still rocks the boat when the base level expectations were only 1. Dean alive, and 2. seeing Cas again.

But for anyone, like me, upset by the (likely unintentional) Cas-baiting or anyone still reeling about why this stuff can hit so hard, here’s an interesting article about the way our brains respond to fictional characters. Tl;dr: There’s nothing wrong with you. This is science. And while you’re at it, take a look at this article about the very real power of disenfranchised grief over character loss.

Ramble on, fam. And take care of yourselves.

<3 Jackie

*Um hi he appears as a sailor? Literally, on a show with a story Dean is writing whose audience is looking for a resolution to a conversation between two people who’re famously the “most shipped” characters of all time? That’s not an accident. That’s intentional. And it’s another reason why there might be a bitter taste in your mouth. These nods came without resolution, so it still feels dirty, despite the brilliant Easter egg.

**I hesitate to say “clown” here because the lesson on episode 12 was that the clowns were the ones who chose a self-induced limbo rather than face some personal hard revelations. That sounds more like a certain closeted character than it does the people cheering him on, and that felt like an intentional nod too.

***obviously, this is my own rambling spec as I try to reorder my thoughts in the wake of the finale.

#the winchesters #destiel #spnwin #jackie's talking #meta #finale thoughts #my art

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ferretwhomst · 1 year

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Holy Shit I Just Realized Something (toh finale spoilers and Badly Structured, Massively Long Rant up ahead)

when we first meet willow in early s1, she's in the abomination track and as we all know she is Struggling. abomination magic just doesn't come as naturally to her as plant magic, which is fine, but it isn't being addressed by the school.

soon enough she gets switched over to the plant track as she wishes- i don't remember the exact details of the episode, it's been a little while, but iirc principal bump shows up after willow covers the entire inside of the school in vines and basically goes "no, i'm not punishing you, instead i'm switching you to the plant track because you're clearly more skilled at this type of magic."

which none of us really thought about, right?? maybe some of us were like "hm, that was a bit abrupt" but we didn't think too much of it because we didn't have much of an idea of bump's character yet.

not much later, it's revealed that bump himself is a part of the abomination coven. (it's not exactly Discussed but his sigil is visible in some shots, like this one.) he is bound by sigil to be restricted to abomination magic and nothing else.

one slightly less relevant detail that i find interesting is how he doesn't Look like an abomination coven member, and so he seems a lot less invested in his status as an abomination witch. now you may be thinking: ferret, that's a moot point because 1. not every magic user is going to have their preferred type of magic/coven/track whatever implemented into their design and 2. princy b wears his Principal Robes every time we see him up until the finale, so it would be difficult to implement those details into his design anyway.

now, that second point is actually, uh. Fair. but as for the first point, allow me to explain

here are two prominent abomination coven members, darius deamonne and alador blight

both of them are pretty obviously abomination coven members right off the bat. darius, being a coven head, has a Shit ton of purple in his design to indicate this (and that's not even including his hair). with alador, this is toned down, but it's still obvious by the permanent abomination goo stains on his coat (and also by the fact that he apparently doesn't wash his hands after working on the abomatons /lhj). these two are specialists, in different ways, of course, but ultimately their skills lie in abomination magic, and neither of them have expressed a wish to try other types of magic at this point.

but here's the thing. as far as i can tell, bump is Not a specialist. while he is a skilled abomination witch, we rarely see him make use of the fact except for during fight scenes- he doesn't seem very invested in it. plus, when we see him during the epilogue, he's enjoying a new hobby, which is...

...plant care, much like willow! :)

(side note i love the holes in his hat for frewin's horns)

now, of course you could interpret this as bump simply discovering a New hobby between where wad left off & the epilogue. but to me, this says that all this time he was held back from his passion for plant care for multiple reasons, for example his job as the principal of hexside definitely put a strain on him in terms of how much time he could spend doing things for himself. but now that he's retired, and the coven system has been dismantled, he can spend more time doing things that bring him joy, just like many others in the epilogue.

this means that when he saw what willow was capable of back in s1, and transferred her to the plant track, he was really saying "i see you're struggling, and i won't let you go through what i went through by forcing you to go down a path that isn't yours." and god he means so much to me for that.

anyways end of rant, if you're here reading this i sincerely congratulate you for getting this far without passing away . i am very unnormal about hieronymus bump and it shows.

(also, PLSPLSLSS reblog this if you agree i spent like an hour here sitting here typing this all up on my phone at 1am AHDKDJFJE)

#toh #the owl house #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers #toh speculation #principal bump #principal bump toh #hieronymus bump #willow park #willow toh #alador blight #alador toh #darius deamonne #darius toh #only mentioned them briefly but why not tag them as well #anyways i love bump more than i can begin to express #ferret rambles #sorry this is mostly incoherent but tbf on me its past 1am on a school night and ive been sitting here brainrotting for over an hour

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sporesgalaxy · 5 months

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You have a knack for designing fan characters that fit super well with the rest of the cast! How do you so this? Very cool

Thank you very much!!!! Here is my best shot at talking thru all my reasoning!!!

So...the term "visual language" is really especially apt for this. Understanding the logic behind the character design in something feels a lot like getting to know a language.

Earlier on, I think my process included a lot more rewatching/rereading the source material for visual reference and scowering wiki galleries. I always especially pay attention to background characters because they will sometimes have more variety-- this broadens my "vocabulary" in the show or comic's visual language, and I can express more varied things in more natural-feeling ways.

Nowadays I tend to approach every visual story with the intention of dissecting the art style and character design from the get-go, so I do a lot of mental cataloguing on my first go-through of anything.

I think a good way to think about it is to break the character design down into chunks. The chunks I tend to use are

what art styles and real-world fashions does the costume design draw from?

how are outstanding physical traits emphasized? What art styles does this emphasis draw from?

of the design elements I know I want for my character, are any of them NOT rendered in the original material? where could I find a reference to something similar? (In one of the styles it draws inspo from? Or could I find a similarly constructed but nonidentical thing to model it after?)

Even if you're not necessarily planning to always imitate the art style of the original, that art style will have a lot of influence over the character design choices, so understanding style will help you understand the character design.

It's like understading a word because you know its latin root, or the context it was used in. This is most difficult for me with costume design, because real-world contexts are not always considered in stuff like cartoons and comics, where no one has to think about the actual construction of the garment.

It's hardest to imitate someone's reasoning when that reasoning is just what they personally think "looks cool." These character designs are the ones that torment me the most. It also makes it more difficult to understand a character design if there is a cultural context to it that is alien to you. Sometimes this is obvious and you can just learn the cultural context, but sometimes cultural things are so ingrained that no one mentions them, and those can be hard to figure out because you don't know what to look for.

#asks

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novelmonger · 3 months

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I'm continuing on to the next LotR audio commentary. This one is with the design team, and there's a lot more people talking in this one! Including:

Grant Major (production designer), Ngila Dickson (costume designer), Richard Taylor (Weta Workshop creative supervisor), Alan Lee (conceptual designer), John Howe (conceptual designer), Dan Hennah (supervising art director/set decorator), Chris Hennah (art department manager), and Tania Rodger (Weta Workshop manager)

So here are some highlights of things that are new to me (after avidly watching all the BTS documentaries multiple times over the years) from FotR:

The guy who made the One Ring originally didn't want to do it because he didn't like fantasy, but then his sons badgered him until he agreed to do it - kind of a similar story to Viggo Mortensen, I think. He ended up contracting cancer and dying during the production of the first movie.

Alan Lee storyboarded a potential sequence for showing how Bilbo got the Ring. They would show Gollum grabbing a fish, taking off the Ring while he ate, and then it would roll away until Bilbo found it.

Some of Ngila Dickson's phrases and diction are pinging really loudly in my sense of deja vu - like, I remember hearing those exact phrases before. But I even went and watched the costume design portion of the Appendices, and none of it was a repeat. Have I actually heard this commentary before and then forgot all about it? @_@

The guy (the primary guy? I can't imagine it was only one person) they put writing on all the scrolls and things worked in a bank and had a hobby doing calligraphy. They hired him to do just a few things at first, putting writing on some props, but then it got to the point where he actually had to quit his job at the bank and start working full-time for LotR, and then continued to do stuff for merchandise for New Line. I do wonder what he did once the movies were all made and over with....

I always forget how they had to have two scales of everything. Not just stuff like Gandalf's staff or the sets, but they had to have two scales of all the props like cups and books and things. They even had to have two different sizes of horses, depending on the scene!

Lawrence Makoare, who played Lurtz, would have to start getting into makeup at 10 p.m. the night before he had a scene, so that he would be ready at 8 a.m. the next day @_@

Most of the horses used in the movies were Andalusian horses imported from Australia.

When they would film outside in nature, like in the forest where they shot on-location scenes for Rivendell, they would have to remove the native plants that were there, keep them in a greenhouse, plant whatever plants and other things they needed for the movie, then take them out again and put the original plants back. This would actually leave the area better than the way they found it, because they would remove weeds and things like that.

John Howe commented on how difficult it is to do hair in something like this that's meant to be kind of "historical," even though it's fantasy. Hairstyle is one of the things that is quickly outdated, so if you do it wrong, it can be jarring to watch the movie in later decades. He said, "I wonder how it will look 20 years from now." It's twenty years later, John. It looks every bit as good as it did in 2001 :')

Okay, I feel like this had to have been in the BTS documentary, but I don't remember it. For the moment where Bilbo goes Gollum-esque for a second when Frodo puts the Ring away, they morphed between his face and a puppet they made of Ian Holm looking deranged. Ian Holm was thrilled with the puppet and had several photos taken of himself with it, and then when it was time for him to leave New Zealand, they made a bronze version of the puppet and gave it to him as a memento! XD

For the shots of the Fellowship bursting out of the snow after the avalanche, they went to the Mt. Hart ski field, which was closed because of a blizzard. They were allowed to go out on the ski field, make snow caves, and film the actors bursting out into the open. The Hobbits wore Ugg boots over their hobbit feet in the snow when their feet wouldn't be in the shot XD Apparently, Richard Taylor actually asked Peter Jackson if there could be a scene of the Hobbits wrapping their feet in bandages or something, just so the actors could protect their feet a bit more in harsh terrain like that, but PJ said no, because the Hobbits' feet would be tough enough to be able to withstand all of that. Poor guys! x.x

Huh. I always assumed that they made the effect of ithildin by putting little glowing lights on the doors of Moria, or else maybe added it in post. But actually, they put some kind of reflective material on the design, and then shone a light from behind the camera, so it would reflect on the design and make it look like it was glowing! I feel like, if this movie were made today, they would totally have just done it with CG, but this makes it so much more realistic. Also, they had to paint the doors, but obviously couldn't paint over the reflective material, so they put plasticine over the design, then painted it, then took the doors to the site. They were still taking the plasticine off the doors when the whole crew and the actors turned up and started rehearsing the scene! So apparently, if you look hard enough, you can actually see a few small parts of the design on the door that are missing, because they accidentally left some of the plasticine on!

Okay, we all know about the crazy amount of attention to detail in these movies, but this story just takes the cake. In the room with Balin's tomb, there's all this Khuzdul writing on the walls. Someone wrote out all the text and had their in-house translator translate it into Dwarvish runes that they then carved into the walls. During one of the days they were shooting the cave troll battle, they had invited a Tolkien language scholar to visit the set, and he stormed out in an outrage, saying that someone had written something like "Joe was here" on the walls, which was disrespectful to Tolkien's legacy, etc. etc. Horrified to hear this, the art department got their translator to go over the set with a fine-tooth comb, trying to find the "graffiti" this guy had seen, because they'd already filmed a lot of shots of this scene, and they knew that there would be fans who would freeze-frame the scene and translate what's written on the walls. But they couldn't find it anywhere! So eventually they cornered the Tolkien scholar and asked him where he'd seen it, and it turned out that it was just some guy on the crew who'd told him that. Apparently, the Tolkien scholar was so uptight and serious about everything, this guy was just poking fun at him, and it snowballed from there. So they ended up wasting a lot of time looking for a mistake that wasn't even there, because that's how dedicated everyone was to getting every detail of this movie right.

The Moria orcs were originally designed to have pale, almost translucent skin (inspired by an axolotl! O.O), but when they saw footage of it on the first day, they realized the contrast with all the darkness in Moria was too much, and it made the orcs look like they were glowing, so they had to make them darker.

The eyes of the Moria orcs were enlarged after the fact, so when they made the prosthetics, they had to make the eyeholes extra big so the eyes would look like they fit after they were enlarged.

Originally, there was an idea that the Balrog would burst out from a wall somewhere while they're trying to jump across the gap in the stairs, and just generally make that scene even more tense and exciting, but then they realized that to do so would basically eat up half their budget, so they decided to do it the way it is in the final version XD

The boats' design was based on a leaf of a lemon tree. If you drop a lemon leaf in the water, it will look like a tiny version of the Elven boats! 8D

Ohhhh, so the scene where the Fellowship gets attacked by Orcs along the way down the Anduin was going to be a sequence at Sarn Gebir, where there are dangerous rapids, so the Fellowship has to land on the shore and carry their boats past. But then Orcs attack, there's a whole action scene, and they have to hurry back onto the water and navigate the rapids. But they never shot it, because right after they'd built the set and got all ready, they were hit with a lot of rain and flooding, and the water level in the lake where they were filming rose five meters and completely washed away the set. So that whole sequence got permanently canceled.

While working on Amon Hen, Alan Lee fell off the stone seat (kind of like Frodo!) and broke his wrist. Thankfully, it was his left wrist, so he could keep drawing.

The Uruk-Hai's hair was horsehair that they had to import because they needed it in such large quantities. In the location where they shot the battle at Amon Hen, the ground was covered with prickly bracken of some kind, so every time an Uruk fell on the ground and then got up for the next take, they would have to carefully pluck all the bits of bracken out of their hair @_@

The fletching on the Uruk arrows is supposed to be, not feathers, but Warg hair O.O

Okay, I knew they made a silicone dummy of Boromir for when his body goes over the falls, but they only had four days to make it?! :O

In the final scene, where Frodo and Sam are looking out over Mordor, what Sean and Elijah were actually looking at was a ski resort with cabins and a ski lift. "The one place in all Middle-Earth we don't want to see," indeed! XD

#lord of the rings #lotr #behind the scenes #gotta say it's MUCH harder to keep track of who's talking when there's so many people @_@#some of them have very distinct voices like richard taylor or john howe #but some of the kiwi accents just kind of blurred everything together and i couldn't tell who was who ^^'

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someonexsomeone · 11 months

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Valentine

Title: Valentine

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Life is difficult when you're living through a war, but no one told him how hard it would be to handle the after.

Authors Note: Day 4!! I almost missed this week with all the hecticness happening in my life right now, including a stress rash that has spread to my face. Also, because my roommate finally got me to download the FF.net app and all I want to do is read all day. Thank you for everyone who has been liking and leaving kind messages on these! You have no idea how much it makes my day :)

For a long time, the word ‘after’ didn’t exist for Draco Malfoy. A simple word, a word much too short to hold such meaning, such a tight grip on his life, but a word that made his skin bristle like he was hit with a skin-tingling hex. ‘After’ was for people who had the luxury of knowing they were safe in the present, for people who could plan ahead and have some sense of trust that they would make it to ‘after’. Those people were the ones who didn’t have their formative years shaped by a brewing war, the aftermath of being on a losing side (because let’s be honest, Drace always thought, was there ever a time when they could have won?), and then somehow being on the losing side again. His Father was smart to keep things from him, to keep the secrets of the Death Eater whispers just that until they were sure the Dark Lord would actually rise again, but sometimes he wondered if knowing longer would have given him a chance to change, to prepare, to forgo the memory that shot ice through his veins. After all, most people didn’t learn evil incarnate was being resurrected over family dinner.

No, Draco was not ‘most people’, and that made the word ‘after’ that much more terrifying.

During the war, there was hardly time to think about the present, let alone the aftermath. His days were spent hiding, using the one tool in his arsenal he could always trust to get out of participating in the worst of the killing, and using his ability to repress bad memories to cope with those times he couldn’t get out of them. Bullying his classmates, pretending to believe in the Dark Lord’s every desire, playing the role of the perfect heir, all those things he could do in the present. Fake it till you make it, as the muggles say. Those were easy, consequences or rewards come quickly when you have to stare something in the face and not think of the future.

And then one Harry Potter showed up at his house, the building that once made him feel safe and content turned into a dreary cave, face distorted in a near unrecognizable way and eyes that mirrored his own. All at once, the last six years of rivalry came crashing down on him, an ugly truth of near-perfect understanding that maybe, just maybe, the Boy-Who-Lived could actually understand him. Their eyes reflected the same fear, the same pressing desire for all of this to be over, to stop the fighting, the killing, the fear to think about what could come after. Because Harry Potter, the boy, the child, destined to kill the darkest Wizard in the last 100 years, also didn’t have the luxury of thinking of after. He, after all, had people to protect, just like Draco.

So, in a moment that Draco would never be able to put a feeling towards, he looked at his aunt and lied, and felt the split second of desire to think about an after.

That was many years now, of course. Life continued on, even if it didn’t feel like you could hold on for a second longer. Boy-Wonder and his rowdy crew were able to save the day, Draco begrudgingly admitting to himself that there was always a part of him that hoped they would (though he would rather die than admit it out loud), and he walked hand in hand with his Mother to the apparition point, disappearing before the celebration began. He couldn’t think of an ‘after’ even then, hurrying to help his Mother hide their most prized Dark possessions, helping his Father reach out to anyone that would help their case on the Wizengamot, and burying the last bit of his fear so his hands wouldn’t shake when the Aurors arrived to collect them and any other known Death Eaters that survived the War.

The last time he had seen Potter, at least in person, was during his trial. His Father, of course, was sent to Azkaban, his Mother placed on probation for her involvement, and him…let free. He couldn’t believe it. Even as half of the Wizengamot looked on with displeasure, Draco was let free, with minor charges, all based on the word of the same boy who he spent half his life abusing. Even Potter’s face flickered back and forth, like he couldn’t believe the decision he made, but his stance was resolute. Drace Malfoy would be let go as long as he paid a fine to rebuild part of the Wizarding World and a promise that if he ever committed another crime he would face the full force of the law. His Mother wept, his Father shocked. Draco, for lack of better understanding, refused to let himself feel anything but disgust. Disgust for being pitied, disgust for Potter’s good heart, disgust for the horrible ball of gratitude he felt swirling in his gut. He glared at Potter, who only met his eyes with a reflection of his own - now what?

He left London as soon as he could. There was, after all, a War to clean up. The decision was fast, too unknowing for even his Mother to comprehend, but there was something posted on the board outside the Wizengamot for a meeting to collect a group of eligible healers and potionmasters to travel the country, volunteering their time and effort to help in those worst off part of the country. He needed to get away, far away, so far that even his Mother’s compassionate eyes couldn’t reach. The effort was so in need of volunteers they only spared Draco a second glance, and a watchful eye for a while, before letting him join on.

What was supposed to be a few months turned into a few years, gaining more skills and knowledge than he would have ever been able to get working at St.Mungos. Not only did the open air allow his lung to fully breathe, something he once thought would be shallow for the rest of his life, but every day was a challenge in the best way, another victim coming forward with new turned lasting injuries, his healing abilities turned wandless, his potions more accurate than he ever thought possible. Pride, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time, weld in his chest every time his supervisor-turned-mentor complimented him and his work.

“Excellent brewing today, Draco,” she would say, patting him gently on the back.

Draco would just roll his eyes, smirking to himself, before muttering, “Naturally, which always earned him a smack on the back of his head. His smirk, more often than not, would turn into a small smile. And, he hated to admit it, he was starting to love the feeling.

Then, the dreaded day came.

“Your Father has passed,” his Mother’s letter said, a statement that to anyone but him would read emotionless. “His body is being removed from Azkaban next week. I’ll write once again when we’ve set a date for his funeral.”

And, like he had been living for longer than he could remember, Draco said a simple goodbye, a thank you for everything his colleagues had shown him, and left without a backward glance.

There was no time for ‘after’ once he left. Mother needed him, whether she wanted to admit it or not, the funeral arrangements needed his input, and the countless letters of condolences needed him.

His Mother was worried about him as soon as he arrived.

“It’s alright if you need a moment, Draco dear. I can do these things if you need a moment.” There was very little Draco had to work through, if he was being honest with himself. There wasn’t much affection, if any, remaining towards his Father since before the War. When he was younger, yes, Draco can remember fondly the days he trailed behind his Father, imitating his every move in hopes that one day he would be as great a man. But, when War comes knocking, and your Father is a coward, the magical image from a child's perspective can be easily ruined. Though he had his self-preservation skills all thanks to his Father’s example, their relationship had dwindled until nothing remained but that of a ward and their master. His Father was not the one who took care of him all those years, he realized one afternoon as his Mother fussed over him, and had done nothing but prepare him to be a prize offered to the Dark Lord as a bargaining chip to save his own life.

At the end of the day, Draco knew that though the man was a stranger to him by the end, he was still his Father. His Mother at one point loved him, though he doubted he would ever learn if it was a true love or merely an infatuation of nearness, he would not allow her stress to become overwhleming while trying to grieve properly.

It was a never-ending stream of work, but it allowed an all too familiar feeling of dread to be easily pushed down in favor of productivity. There was no time to, not when the house needed to be readied for guests, the garden needed to be arranged to allow a mourning space, and guests themselves needed to be invited. Granted, the list had dwindled significantly in the aftermath of the war, but his Father deserved more than just an open invitation in the Daily Prophet. After all, he would roll over in his grave if so much as one person from the winning side showed up to his wake.

The day was just as busy as the preparations. Of course, Draco should have expected this, but there was such a difference between the planning and the doing.

For the tenth time in the last hour, Draco ran his fingers along the seam of his collar, giving some distance between it and the sensitive skin around his neck. There was just something about the immaculate black robes he wore that made it suffocating to breathe and made the day that much harder. Draco’s resolve hardened. Yes, that must be it.

People were trickling in before the service began, offering their condolences to both him and his Mother. Narcissa was as regal and strong as she had been the day of the War, holding her head high. There wasn’t a hint of the woman who wept openly in front of the Wizengamot, the broken woman who was afraid of losing her only child, and instead found compassion. Even so, Draco occasionally ran his hand down her arm, reminding her he was there.

“Oh, Cissy!” A woman yelled, practically throwing herself at his Mother. “I can’t believe it actually happened! The Wizengamot should have taken him out of there as soon as his health worsened, what a cruel bunch!”

Draco couldn’t help but stare, watching as his Mother politely took the older woman's hand, patting it gently as if she was the one who just became a widow. He couldn’t help the scoff that left him.

A giggle beside him startled him.

“Some people just can’t let an event be about someone else.” Your voice was different, older, a little rougher, but the twitch of your lip was exactly how he remembered it. “I’m sorry about this. My grandmother is always for the dramatics.”

When your eyes met, he couldn’t help the clench of his heart. The corners softened, just the smallest bit of pity within them that made his entire body seize. The last time you looked at him like that, he was apparating away from the very thing that plagued his nightmares…

“Yes, well. I would appreciate it if you could get her under control before we begin.” Your brow twitched in surprise.

“Not a demand? My, my, Mr.Malfoy. Who has been influencing you to be so kind?” He bristled.

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re saying-”

“Yes, yes,” you said, waving your hand dismissively. “I promise to keep your secret. No one can know you’re kinder now, image is everything, right?” Despite the friendly tone you tried to keep, he couldn’t help the pang in his heart at the familiar words. The words he said to you so long ago, maybe the last conversation you ever had. “Don’t worry, she’s a dramatic one, but she’s not that heartless.” Draco didn’t respond, merely narrowing his eyes in your direction. “What? Don’t trust me?”

“Those aren’t the words I would use, no.” You winced dramatically. At least he knew where you got it from now.

“Hurtful, Malfoy. But I suppose you have a point.”

The silence that stretched was painfully awkward.

“Thank you,” he said, suddenly remembering where he was, “for attending.”

“I don’t know if your Father would be too happy to see me, but I’m not really here for him.” Draco raised a brow, confusion evident on his face. You met his gaze head-on, smile turning a little fond. “I like this look on you.”

“Can you hear yourself?” He couldn’t stop the snap in his words.

“It’s not very often I can bring you to confusion,” you said, completely ignoring his words. Your hand raised gently, pausing when Draco flinched, before gently resting it against his cheek. Resting, he guessed, was generous. Your hand hovered cautiously near his face, close enough he could feel the heat from your palm, feel the electricity crackled between your skin strongly enough that it felt like you were actually touching him. For a desperate moment, he wanted to push his head into your open hand, take any comfort he could while he could. Who knew when he would get it again.

“What…what are you doing?” Your thumb was near undetectable, smoothing away the scrunch between his brows. Well, trying to at any rate.

“I’ll be staying far past the end.” Your voice was quiet now. “Whenever you’re ready to need me after, I’ll be here. ”

Draco felt his breath hitch. You smiled delicately, meeting his eyes once more, before pulling your hand away and ending whatever moment of peace was created from your nearness. He watched your hair sway as you turned, grabbing your grandmother's arm and gently leading her to a group of people nearby, relieving Narcissa of her duty with a soft condolence. He couldn’t help his eyes as they stayed on your figure, watching and memorizing every one of your moves, letting his mind wander.

“I’m not very fond of the grandmother, but…maybe I can learn to tolerate her.” Draco blinked, meeting his Mother’s eyes.

“Why would you ever need to get along with…her?” His Mother scoffed, the first unladylike behavior she had allowed herself to do in a long time. Draco’s eyes widened.

“Draco, my dear. I know your Father and I weren’t the best example, but I had hoped you learned a little something.” He continued to look at her quizzically. “Go after, okay? You deserve a quiet moment, and I have a feeling your meeting will be exactly what you need right now.”

After, Draco thought. For the first time in who knows how long, Draco let himself be excited for it.

______________________________________________________________

masterlist l What is Laufeyfest? l Laufeyfest masterlist

#draco malfoy x reader #harry potter imagine #hogwarts imagine #hogwarts one shot #harry potter fanfiction #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one shot #draco one shot

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nova-writes-about-things · 1 year

Text

captain jack sparrow x gn!reader word count: 1867 warning(s): mentions of violence, blood, and gunshot wounds (not graphic)

(REQUESTS ARE OPEN!)

prompt: “do you mind saying that again when I can actually remember what it is you just said?”

in your life as a pirate, you tended to take danger in stride. it’s just the way that it was. if you’d bothered to be afraid every time you were in a dangerous situation, you’d never have a bloody minute to think!

an attack on your beloved ship—your home—by fellow snarling pirates? not an issue. a blade held to your neck in a ridiculous attempt to use you as a hostage? not the first time, certainly wouldn’t be the last.

but you didn’t realize the true meaning of fear—not really—until the day a gunshot hit jack square in the chest.

when the pearl had encroached upon a merchant ship on the horizon, her black sails whipping wildly through the air and catching up in no time at all, the captain had immediately thrown up their white flag. it seemed to be an easy surrender, and it was—at least, until some hay-brained young sailor on board decided to take a shot at your beloved captain.

it was at that moment that you realized exactly how afraid you were of losing him.

jack handled everything as if he’d expected it all along. he was the definition of devil-may-care attitude, of someone who had the world by the strings and was fifteen steps ahead at any given time.

you knew he wasn’t immortal—not for lack of trying, on his part—but it was easy to think as much when he escaped danger on the daily with not so much as a scratch. but immortals don’t bleed, you thought distantly, as you watched him hit the ground.

he clutched at his chest. blood seeped through his shirt and vest, and his eyes were wide and frantic. that momentary look of being taken so off guard—was it fear?—is what spurred you into action.

you hardly registered the pearl’s crew tackling the sailor boy to the ground. you were focused on rushing over to jack.

“he shot me,” jack ground out through his teeth. “damned boy bloody shot me.”

kneeling on the ground next to him, you pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. “just keep some pressure on this, alright?” you said quietly.

you turned toward the crowd, barely noting the wide-eyed looks from the merchant ships’ crew and the terrified looks from your own crew. “someone help me get him back,” you commanded, your voice leaving no room for argument. “now.”

it took two or three crew members from the pearl, gibbs included, to carry jack across the gangplank and bring him safely to his cabin. what a sight, you mused later, once the dust had settled. pirates who took care of their own. the worst pirates anyone’s ever heard of.

you, in the meantime, took immediate command of the ship. you demanded movement, and fast. you needed towels, tools, equipment. you just needed jack to be okay.

the pearl was in a frenzy.

“take care ‘f him for us,” gibbs had told you, once jack was left on the mattress in his cabin and you’d gotten the things you needed. “we’ll handle things out here.”

“thank you,” you replied, and hoped the authenticity of your words showed. he nodded, then quickly took his leave. you turned towards jack, who’s breathing had become labored. not good, not good, not good.

you pushed aside your fear long enough to make a cohesive plan. you’d need to be able to see the wound to treat the wound, and to do that, you’d need to have access to his chest. and to do that--

oh.

right then.

you ignored the rushing heat to your cheeks. instead, you chastised yourself for being so childish at a moment like this, and took a breath. you had a job to do.

as it turned out, removing jack’s clothes was a bit tougher than you’d thought it’d be. (not that you’d thought about it.)

jack had practically turned into dead weight. taking off his effects, coat, vest, and shirt underneath was a lot more difficult to do when he couldn’t help you in the process. but you’d done it, and the lack of any suggestive comments on his end left you with naught but an unsettling fear in your gut.

“rum,” he mumbled instead, and you understood well enough. rum would dull the pain. you found one of his hiding spots where he hid his own stash away from the rest of the crew--he’d told you about it months ago, when you were both drunk on the very thing--and uncorked it, handing it to him. he wasted no time in taking a swig, though the very movement seemed to cause him pain.

luckily for jack, the sailor boy didn’t have as good an aim as much as he was foolish, meaning the bullet had landed closer to jack’s shoulder instead of hitting any major organs or arteries. unluckily for jack, however, the bullet also hadn’t made a clean exit. you would have to get it out yourself.

you sucked in a breath. “this is going to hurt.”

“’ve been through worse, love,” he muttered, not exactly looking at you while he did so. he took another long pull from the bottle of rum, then set it down, lying back on the bed.

there was a part of you that didn’t want to do this. a rather large part of you would’ve rather left the damned thing where it was just so you wouldn’t have to be the one to pain him.

but you also didn’t like the way his skin had paled, and how his eyes had a glazed shine to them where there shouldn’t have been one. you knew he would be worse off if the bullet stayed where it was. and so, taking a deep breath to steady your hand, you went for it.

jack, for the most part, became delirious with fever. he kept talking quietly under his breath, murmuring words that you couldn’t quite catch. you thought you heard something about a garden party, or a mention of pretty ships. it wasn’t as though you could follow his train of thought when you were too busy trying to fish lead out of his skin.

regardless, you preferred the nonsense mumblings to the moments of frightening silence. jack being quiet was a bad sign at the best of times. jack being quiet after an injury like this was far worse. after the first bout of silence, you’d asked him to keep talking—to make yourself feel better, if not only to keep him from falling unconscious.

you weren’t sure who was more drained by the time you got hold of the bullet. you’d quietly murmured apologies, assurances that things would get better, as he winced at every movement you made for the last half hour or so. and by the time it was over, you’d both been spent.

you held the bullet up once you had it in hand. jack seemed to regain his lucidity enough to regard it, a shaky laugh leaving his lips. “should keep it, don’t you think? add it to my collection.”

“this isn’t funny,” you admonished, though you were glad he still had his sense of humor. it had to count for something, right? you placed the bullet down on a small nightstand next to his bed, then exhaled, exhausted. “i’ll need to dress this. have you any wrappings in here?”

“it’s that-a-way,” he mumbled. he lifted his hand and waved it in a vague direction towards his desk which sat in the middle of the cabin. you stood up and walked towards it, going through each drawer. finally, you found what you were looking for, but not before spotting a piece of parchment—a letter, at closer examination—with your name written on it.

you grabbed it, curiously eyeing the letter, before remembering your initial task. you had to take care of wrapping the wound before it got infected. you quickly returned to jack’s side, beginning to work at the wrappings.

you expertly threaded the wrapping through his arms as much as you could while he was laying down. still, you eventually had to guide him towards a halfway sitting-up position so that you could effectively tie the wrapping around him. he settled back down with a wince.

as you dabbed a wet cloth against his face, trying to control the fever, you couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander to that letter. all you’d been able to see was your own name, but you easily recognized jack’s handwriting. why on earth would he bother writing a letter to you when you couldn’t be more than fifty feet away at any given time?

finally, after much unbearable silence, you decided there was no harm in asking. “jack?”

his head lolled towards you. he blinked slowly, as if registering what you had just said.

“there’s a letter in your desk, addressed to me,” you said, keeping your voice as level as you could. “might i be privy to the contents of it?”

he grinned lazily. “ah, that’s just my thoughts speakin.’” he paused and frowned in thought. then, he shrugged. “well, speakin’ in the form of writing. not like I was ever plannin’ on giving it to you.”

you blanched slightly, realizing that in this state, he might be a tad more open with you than he would be in normal circumstances. with this knowledge in hand, you knew you shouldn’t have pressed, but still, curiosity, curiosity—

“and what were your thoughts speaking, exactly?”

“silly, silly things, love,” he said in a sing-song tune. “silly thoughts I never thought I'd think. much less say, I s’ppose. stupid, silly little things.”

“master of evading questions, you are,” you retorted with just a hint of amusement. still, your traitorous heart beat wildly in your chest. “even when you’re half lost to delirium. you’re lucky I like you.”

he grinned widely. “you like me, do you?”

“aye, most unfortunately for me.”

he blinked, tilting his head, when he said, “do you mind saying that again when I can actually remember what it is you just said?”

you laughed. this man would be the death of you, surely. “how about i do that after I find out the truth about that mysterious letter of yours?”

he hummed, then settled back on the pillow, closing his eyes. “we have an accord, then.”

an accord, indeed, you thought.

when he didn’t stir any further, you deemed it safe enough for him to sleep. he probably needed the rest, anyhow. you’d just been about to get up and let the others know that he’d be just fine when his hand shot out and grasped your wrist.

he didn’t want you to leave.

you sighed, and found yourself sitting back down at his side. after a moment, you found that your eyes were stinging just a bit. “don’t go and get yourself shot anymore, alright? don’t know what i’d do if you died on me.”

your words were a whisper, so quiet you barely heard yourself speak, but the corners of his mouth tilted upwards. “i’ll do me best, darling,” he mumbled.

#captain jack sparrow x reader #captain jack sparrow #jack sparrow x reader #pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the caribbean x reader #potc #potc x reader

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leandra-winchester · 14 days

Note

sorry in advance if i come off degrading or rude here (not my intention at all) but i'm sending this to you because you mentioned fictional narrative re: buddie, so i wanna add my thoughts about plausibility in relation to narrative format and medium conventions. long rant & full disclosure, i just watched 911, so i don't know how the conversation around this was pre-tommy but i don't understand how people thought/think it's a slowburn romance arc they were building with buddie that could actually happen. literally no romantic relationship on this show has been slowburn because it's just not how procedural shows of this kind are written. bathena barely interacts in s1 and were put together in a couple episodes. madney are only friends for five episodes or so. none of buck and eddie's relationships have build-up that lasts more than a few eps. the closest i can think of is buck and abby and even that wasn't much. i just don't think it's the nature of these type of shows, with the exception of something like the show castle where two main leads are set up as one day becoming romantic, to give breathing room for romance to go from zero to established. they're written in on-average 6-episode arcs and planned according to audience response, this is basically how every aspect of these shows work including the romantic plots.

which brings me to my second point you already touched a little bit: medium conventions but especially in relation to queer rep. when we have queer rep in these type of mainstream shows they're rarely stories about bi/gay awakening. double gay awakening? honestly, i don't remember a single show where something like this happened. i'm shocked we even got bi buck AT ALL because nominally straight hot guy main character getting confirmed as queer rarely happens. i kinda find the notion of people genuinely expecting this to happen with two main characters over seasons-long burn kind of laughable. and don't get me wrong, i understand why people love the idea, i'm myself a slow-burn building-a-bond-before-romance type of gal but i just don't think that type of queer story would ever work in a format like this, considering the average audience. look at something like 911ls for example, carlos and tk are both openly gay and start having sex on ep 2 and are boyfriends by ep 10 - that's the space queer stories currently hold in mainstream media. where it's made clear from the start and executed quickly over a few eps (not saying there's no further story with them, i just mean the relationship development). so yeah i don't think buddie was ever an option for the writers beyond being aware of the interest in it which is objectively very small compared to the millions of people watching this show. tldr: i think being ship-baited by a mainstream procedural show on fox is like going to the hardware store and asking for milkshake.

Okay, so I don't agree that slow burns aren't possible at all on shows like 911. Afaik, that popular ship on the Rookie also took several seasons, and there are many more shows that had a "will they, won't they?" situation with two main characters. Sure, it's much more difficult to write, plan and pull through, but it does get done.

Many people were hoping Buddie was FINALLY gonna be a queer version of that trope, and the thing is, there was enough subtext in the previous few seasons to support it. There were scenes that were shot and composed with commonly used cinematographic and contextual tropes that are usually used for romantic couples; there was all that stuff with Eddie having panic attacks over Ana, seeming very distanced with her, Carla's "Make sure you follow your heart, not Christopher's", and much more.

I do believe that backdoor was always open a tiny crack wide, and the writers were aware of it being a tiny, tiny option and therefore included all these little bits that would later make it plausible. There were interviews in the past with Tim where he even hinted at something like that, or left the option open; and there were other writers and directors who also subtly confirmed some subtext. It was never explicitly spelled out but hinted at.

So I'm pretty convinced that it at least was some level of consideration, in the past - always with a tiny probability to become possible, but it WAS there. (And before anyone reading this says "oh so that WAS ship baiting?" Nope, it wasn't. Giving yourself the option to maaaaybe do something in the future as a writer is normal procedure.)

Also, just because something was never done before (i.e. a queer slow burn) doesn't mean it'll never get done. It just makes it a lot less likely and subject to MANY external factors.

But yeah, I definitely agree that putting TWO queer awakening arcs around main characters into the story is extremely unlikely to ever happen on a show like this. And actually, we kinda already had two: the show started with Michael coming out to Athena. So yeah, even though we were thrown into the last stage/aftermath of that arc in s1 rather than seeing it play out from the start of its development, we had that.

#buddie but platonic #fandom discourse #kinda #stop trying to make buddie happening #It's NOT going to happen #I'd say sadly #but I'm grateful for #bucktommy #firepilot #buck will always be bisexual #nobody can take that away #and I'm more than happy about it #911

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

Text

Blackmail

TW: Dark JJ! Language. Heavy smut. Language.

SUMMARY: A series of events leads JJ to finally make you his, by any means necessary…

WORD COUNT: 3600

*Requested*/*Original Concept*

Blackmail

You felt guilty for even saying the words out loud, and yet were desperate to talk about it to someone. Playing the role of the dutiful girlfriend to Pope Heyward meant that you were subject to showcase his same broadcast of perfection. Good grades in college, reticence wrapped beneath your well polished exterior, and your deepest of desires veiled behind smiles of happiness and contentment. And this is what brought you to discussing these details with Sarah, the recent ‘pogue’ to which you were closest to.

“I’m just glad he can’t tell…” You confessed, “I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings. But I feel like the excitement’s just…” You stopped yourself as you didnt want to claim these actual words as they teased expulsion from the tip of your tongue.

The truth of the matter was that you and Pope were destined to date as you were scholars of the mind and passionate from your heart, always flirting and exchanging long glances-but you weren't exactly meant to last beyond high school. And it showed in the way those small romantic attempts faded between you as your busy schedules made it difficult to find time for one another. It was also this distance that made your mind travel to places you didn’t want it to. And yet, before you could stop those words from leaving your mouth, they hung in the air with Sarah’s humored reaction in tow.

“Sometimes I just think I need to get someone else in my system for just one night or something. Just to get those ‘wild oats’ sown or whatever-”

“Someone you have in mind?” You contorted your face in thought. There was someone you had in mind, someone you always had in mind as he caught your eye on every occasion where he was present. That blonde hair bleached by the sea and the sun, those muscles on display with both the intent and ignorance to do so, and that smile that may be rare in genuine happiness but was a sight to see for your sore eyes.

“J?!” Sarah teased as you shrugged while she had deduced this from the fact you were already with Pope and she was with John B, leaving the pivot you made over your shoulder back into The Chateau, the piece of the puzzle she needed for this clue. And you quickly berated her for the volume she chose to acknowledge it as everyone was asleep, including Pope, just beyond that screen door at your side.

“I’ve heard for years how he is in bed…and…sometimes I think that’s all I want…But then I think back to Pope and he has everything I need. Like we have a future and all of that-”

“Just a lack of chemistry?”

“He’s so sweet with me…But it’s so…” You paused, forfeiting a blush with the chance to be honest.

“He never…” You motioned between your thighs as Sarah’s brows shot up.

“Which is fine if it’s rare because it’s something to look forward to-and he used to…but….it just feels so…planned. Like he’s thinking behind every action and not just enjoying it. He…he gets upset when we laugh during it…he says it makes him lose focus and ‘lose the moment’...And last night wasn’t the first time I’ve had to fake it…”

“Girl…”

“I know…But I just don’t want to hurt him…”

“Well what about other things? Like kissing and the touching-all the foreplay?” You cocked your jaw.

“I feel like it’s more of a job…Even when he touches me…it’s almost rushed…” You shrugged before releasing a sigh.

“I don’t know…I think I’m just…I think I just want too much and have too much time on my hands-” Sarah now leaned forward.

“We’re young, okay. We’re still figuring all of this stuff out. But you have to be honest with yourself about what you want or you’re only hurting the people you’re convincing you’re happy with…” You slowly nodded.

“That’s the thing, I am happy with him…but-”

“Better off as friends?” You hollowed into yourself at the thought. You didn't think that the details of the fractures between you and Pope were that big. You thought they would mend once you were out of college and allowed to see each other more frequently-but this consisted of a lot of ‘what ifs’ in contrast to what you could still make a reality now. That reality being JJ Maybank… Who was standing just beyond the other side of the screen door with a shit-eating grin in having heard every detail of your conversation.

Your steps began to stutter in your attempts to move from the edge of the hammock to the front of The Chateau, Pope’s words echoing in your mind from your recent verbal row. Having leaned over his shoulder and teased playfully for having been studying on spring break, he would snap at you and claim you weren’t taking things seriously. You would rebut in saying that’s all he did and he would leave his own response with ‘at least one of us does’, before storming off inside the Pogues hideout where he had remained until an hour prior when he’d kept himself purposely away from you, not even lifting a gaze of disappointment as you’d consumed far too many beers to take a single step let alone formulate a sentence.

And yet, the feeling of a gentle arm wrapping its way around your waist had your hazed eyes falling to a figure as you were taken into the Chateau.

“I’ve gotcha…” His voice should have been recognizable to you and yet you were too affected by the liquor to pay attention to anything but the spinning sensation left behind. You were taken into the back room of The Chateau, lights kept dim, before you would fall asleep in the comfort of a familiar set of sheets.

Awakening that next morning, your face spread into a smile in realizing your lack of ensemble. Missing panties and a pleasant soreness between your thighs of what you knew had been a thorough reconciliation with your boyfriend. But as you pulled yourself from beneath that comforter, you felt the difference between your legs-a way you’d never felt in any interaction with Pope. Yet you believed the alcohol or maybe concealed frustrations relinquished beneath the guise of those libations would be the cause. But once you heard the groan at your back, your heart sank.

Immediately at your feet, you turned to find the bronzed muscles tense as your motions pulled him awake, his arm outstretched in search of you, as your mind conjured every single scenario in which this would make sense. Maybe you slept with Pope but JJ stumbled in sometime in the night or maybe you did in going to the bathroom and choosing the wrong room. But as he lifted himself from the bed, that victorious smile spread to his dimples made you understand that your biggest fears, and desires, were acted on.

“Morning, sweetheart-”

“What the hell happened?” To this, he stood, running his fingers through his hair and standing shamelessly in the nude as you saw the lines of your nails against his chest before you would cast your gaze anywhere else.

“It’s cute how shy you’re being…definitely weren’t last night…” He moved to his boxers, pulling them over his hips as you glared once he was dressed.

“No…no, no, no, no no-” You spoke in repetition as he moved towards you as if to collect you in a loving embrace as you were quick to reject him.

“What the fuck, JJ! Stop screwing around-” His brow lifted before his eyes descended to you as you remembered how you weren't dressed. Pulling the sheet around you, he would roll his eyes before letting out a sigh.

“Careful, wouldn’t want Pope to know what you’re getting your panties in a bunch about…” His gaze directed to you in unwavering humor. “Or lack thereof…”

“Can you not be a jackass for two seconds-”

“You wanna know?” To this, he reached for his phone as you nodded, pulling his phone across the screen in a few dabs and swipes before the sights you’d only conjured in your mind were now broadcast on camera.

Taken from a view just below his chest had been you on your knees, his cock within your hand in a twist as his head was sheathed between the pucker of your lips, his other set of fingers wrapped in your hair as he praised you for ‘taking him so well’. Once again, you tried to justify it.

“I was drunk-”

“That’s more-” You paled as he swiped through a series of videos of every sexual act imaginable, the ones you wanted to try but were too afraid to ask for from your boyfriend-were all recorded as evidence of your infidelity.

“Please J-”

“I think I have that on the third video…But hard to make it out because your face was in the pillow-” You reached for the phone as he was quick to reject your grasp.

“Nuh uh-”

“Why are you doing this? Pope is your friend-”

He scoffed before slowly nodding. “And he’s YOUR boyfriend…but it didn’t stop you from doing every depraved thing you did last night…The things he never did…” You retracted from him.

“ALL the things you let ME do…” Your mind began to recall the details, triggered by a mix of his videos and his words.

LAST NIGHT

“Here…” JJ’s voice acted as a comfort as he offered you a sip of water from a bottle left by his bed.

The sight of his smile visible by the dim lamp set across the room was enough to know you weren’t simply imagining him, and also enough to swell that already deafening arousal between your legs. It had been weeks-months since you’d felt any sense of genuine pleasure and the tease of his fingers on your hip was enough to cast those ‘come hither’ eyes-even under the influence of alcohol. And yet, your reservations at the memory of Pope and your recent fight remained on the forefront over your intense and annoying arousal.

“Are you hot, sweetheart?” His words, mostly carnal, were somehow still loving as you were taken out of your shorts before you could object.

“And wet?” Your lips pulled into a smile as you felt his hand trail up your thigh, each finger taking stock of the soft skin he’d been denied until now.

“J-”

“Shh…just let me take care of you…”

“We can’t…” You fought, your believability as fleeting as your voice as your eyes came closed to feel his thumb make contact with your clothed clit. You weren’t a virgin by any means as you and Pope had been together for just under two years, and yet, JJ’s touch made you feel the nerves and sensations as if you’d never been touched by anyone but him. It was enough to make you forget your morals as they were left breaking with your allowance.

“Goddamn..how can he not want you all the time?” To his question, you were still numb.

“Poor girl’s so needy…You’d be so easy to slip in to-And I bet you’d take me deep, too…” You whined and whimpered as his breath now replaced his touch as you could feel him pull your panties from your hips. The sudden lack of fabric made your eyes sprint open.

“JJ we can’t!”

“Oh, but you want to…”

“Please-”

“Not after I know how you want me-” Your eyes tried to focus on him, squinting as he made immediate contact with your pussy, already crying at just the thought of him as your boyfriend was the farthest thing from your mind, attempting to intervene on your pleasure.

“Not after I know you’ve thought about me just as much as I’ve thought about you…Especially knowing he isn’t doing right by you…And now…” He flicked yoru clit with his tongue as you arched beneath him, a smirk resting against your thigh as he pulled your legs over his shoulders.

“You gotta be quiet for me, sweetheart…I don’t want anyone to know how good you sound until I make you come….” You clenched your fingers into the sheets as he devoured your wholly.

Almost as if made to do so, he moved in perfect motions between his fingers and his tongue. Whenever you would begin to tremble around him, he would alter from fingertips to the tip of his tongue all to prolong that rush and lengthen the moans and whimpers that caused his cock to rise in a painful rigidity. Yet, it meant more to him to hear you come undone than to have it unto him-at least, for now…

“How the hell can he not eat you out every second?! You’re so fucking sweet…” He moaned into you, the vibrations pulling you closer to that edge.

“JJ…fuck!” He deepened his tongue against you, sucking harder and flicking faster, as you were kept still by the forearm pressing you into the mattress as his second hand rose to your breast. Playing with your nipples in accordance to the pleasure continuing in ravaging circles and nibbles of your pussy, your body was losing all sense of reality. Never before had you been touched like this, with such necessity and passion-and it was enough to make you belt out his name in repetition.

“I love how you say my name like this, but gotta be quiet…” He warned.

“I don’t want to be…it feels so good.” He groaned to this.

“I’m not even inside of you yet, baby-”

“Please…” And to this, he would remove himself from between your legs, put his phone on record, and begin his docu-series of you.

“What do you want?” He asked, undressing from the waist down, his cock at attention, as you moved onto your knees for him, sober enough to do so without collapsing onto your face or ass in the process.

“You want my cock?” You licked your lips before slowly nodding, not only wanting it but needing it. Needing to taste it. Needing to tame it. And he reveled in knowing it.

“It’s yours, princess…” You took it in stride, although intimidated, before he began to moan and groan to your movements. The twist at his base and the depth you took him had sent him within his own spiral of euphoria as his eyes screwed closed to the sounds of you choking on him.

“Good girl…Such a good girl…” You nodded.

“You like being my good girl?” He asked, patting your head before collecting the strands of your hair into a fist and withdrawing you from his cock.

“Yes…” You breathed sharply following the gasp of his initial grasp.

“Then show me you want me…” He forced you to your feet as you whined for the rejection of unfinished business.

“Don’t worry baby…I won’t do anything without you…It’s all yours…” He explained while motioning to his cock, allowing it to remain at attention as he guided you to the edge of the bed.

“You’re gonna tell me all the things you want me to do to you-all the things he never does or never does right…and I’m gonna make you come with all of them-” At the mention of his words, you hesitated, forcing him to move closer against you.

“If you say his name, you’re done. You don’t get to feel good…you’ll just make me…I’ll bend you in every goddamn position and make sure you know my cock in every fucking way-” His hand now moved to your hip, twisting you onto your stomach before a slap to your ass made you gasp.

“EVERY way…” Your eyes rolled before you felt his breath on your cheek, kissing over his recent strike.

“So let me see how you play with it when you think of me…” You were ambitious to a fault, dragging your fingers between your folds as he kept his camera directed to you.

“Fuck…” He breathed behind a smirk.

“Faster for me…I need you dripping for how hard I’m gonna fuck you, sweetheart-” You moaned behind your clenched teeth.

“You like that I’m watching you?”

“Yes…”

“You like that it’s not him-” Your fingers suddenly stopped.

“Did I say you could stop?” You turned back towards him, paying no attention to the camera as he now held it at his side.

“Please…I can’t-”

“But you were, so well…and you’re gonna keep-”

“J- I can’t…” You cried, the betrayal having been too much to fathom.

“But you will-” As you tried to turn completely to face him, his hands forced you to remain, two fingers penetrating you, sending you into the sheets before you as you gripped tightly to the pleasure he allowed-the forbidden pleasure quelled by his curved digits.

“Please-”

“I wanted to take my time, baby…But I could almost come on the spot just hearing you beg-” He was suddenly inside of you.

“And you’re gonna take it for me…you’re gonna let me fuck you because we both know you want it-you need it…”

“Please stop-” He kept a hold in your hair, quickening into you.

“Fuck…” He breathed, ignoring your pleas as they continued, “Keep begging, sweetheart-sounds so sweet for me…” He explained breathlessly as you tried to fight him, but only ended up clenching around him.

“Yes! Fuck yeah…” He groaned, prompting thrust after thrust as your body betrayed your morals.

“Bet you wanna come on my cock, don't cha sweetheart?” His fingers were merciless against your clit, an impossible pace making you mindless in any sense of reason.

“Fuuccckkk….J….J….” You sung beneath his attempts as he smirked.

“Oh shit, are you a squirter? Bet I can make you one…” With this, he withdrew, only to replace his cock with his fingers, moving in harsh but deep piston-like motions as his second hand kept the camera to you once you buried your face into the pillow beneath you.

“Both know you need this, sweetheart. So let me have it…come on…” But as he could feel you resist him, he became more violent-more vulgar-if that was even possible.

“Come the fuck on! I’m the one putting the work in this tight little pussy so give me what I want-!” He dropped the camera just long enough to slap your ass, returning the phone to now witness the red mark left behind.

“Come ON!” To this, you belged, the squirting he desired now as evidence of your release. But you weren’t allowed a moment’s reprieve before he was inside of you again. This time, he took you against his chest, bringing the camera in selfie mode so he could record the way you were spent against him and his own smirk as he kissed into your cheek.

“Whose cock is making you clench like this, hmm? Don’t have to yell it for me…just say it…”

“JJ…”

“Mmm hmm… And who feels so fucking tight taking me in like this, huh?”

“Me…” He nodded.

“You gonna make me come inside you? You gonna tell me I’m all you need as I make you so full you’ll be dripping for hours-days?” You nodded.

“Then fucking do it-” And with this, the phone was propped on the table just beside the bed to document him pounding in to you.

“Why?” You asked JJ the morning after, the echoes of multiple orgasms having returned to you from this reminiscence.

“Because I heard what you said to Sarah about being curious…And you know what they say about that killing that cat…and I think I slayed that pussy, baby…” You winced at the words as you wanted to hate him, but even as he looked at you in this moment, that pulsation returned between your thighs.

“What will it take for you to delete it?”

“Delete it?!”, He scoffed. “Are you kidding?!”

“Please-”

“Now that I know what you really want, I’m going to make sure you get it as long as you stay my good girl and behave, sweetheart-” You shuddered.

“Don’t call me that-”

“Maybe you only like being called that when you’re on your knees for me then? When my fingers are pulling at your hair? And you're crying with how deep I am in your throat?” He crossed the floor to stand before you, your jaw clenched and chest rising in preparation to rebuttal him.

“What do you want, J?” He held up his phone, signaling to it, before offering his answer.

“I’m gonna keep this little video all to myself for now…but that can change if you decide to get pissy with me. What WOULD he think to know everything you let me do to you?”

“Jesus, he’s your friend!”

He slowly nodded, stepping impossibly close to you as you remained rooted.

“And now you’re mine. Whenever. Wherever. However…” He took your jaw in his hand.

“All mine…” You forced your head away as you watched him move from the bedroom and into the hall with that victorious smile across his face, all while teasing you with that damn phone that he had dancing between his pinch.

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-Is @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @pankhoeforlife

#darkjj #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outerbanks #obx

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41319kbex · 3 months

Text

Hell Hath No Fury (5/?)

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed! It really means a lot!

This is a long chapter, very heavy on plot. It’s taken me longer to post it because I told you before my least favorite thing to write is police work…and this chapter is painfully full of it. But it is necessary. I’m sure I rushed through it because I absolutely hate writing it, but I hope it’s not so rushed that you can’t understand and enjoy the story. I hope I don’t lose any of you with this chapter.

I still don’t own Castle…

xxxxx

Days turned into a week, and a week turned into two. Beckett’s days consisted of going to work, being micro-managed by the new captain…there had been a murder case she’d caught; Gates hadn’t completely benched her, of course, and still expected her to lead her team on any case except the shooting…and then going home to work on the shooting case on her own--more often than not with at least a couple of shots of something stronger than wine, usually whiskey or vodka; it wasn’t enough to get drunk, but it was enough to take the edge off the emotional tailspin she was in.

The main component missing was Castle. She hadn’t spoken to him since he’d kicked her out of his hospital room. He’d been angry with her, and she’d been so insistent on both working the case and getting him safely away from the fallout of…well, her…that she’d figured he’d call her if he wanted to talk. When he didn’t, her pride wouldn’t let her call him either, no matter how much she missed him or how much having him tell her to leave had hurt her.

She had called the hospital daily to check on his condition. He’d been released almost a week ago, and when she still hadn’t heard from him, she did request a police detail put on his building for precautionary purposes, which hadn’t been difficult for her to get approved considering the circumstances of his shooting and his friendship with the mayor…but when one of the officers had informed her he had packed his car and looked like he was heading out of town, she’d pulled them off, figuring he actually was going out to the Hamptons to fully recover. She was at least relieved by that information; it meant he’d be safe from everything, including her.

The boys had kept their word, discretely sharing anything they came across regarding the shooting, but it hadn’t been much past the sketch of the shooter. On a hunch, she’d suggested the boys run financials on Montgomery, Raglan, and McAllister so they could try to find some kind of money trail…she was working on trying to piece everything together now.

She found herself thinking about how much easier it may have been with Castle’s help. Despite the fact that she didn’t usually admit it to him, his way of thinking outside the box somehow pushed her to be able to do her best work; building theory with him was second nature to her now, and she missed it. Stopping her train of thought before it could get too far out of the station,

she poured herself another glass of whiskey, but before she could take a drink she saw it–an account number with an oddly large amount of deposits…and one huge withdrawal date right before her mother’s murder. “Got you, you son of a bitch,” she murmured, the alcohol in her glass now forgotten.

Another hour and a half of research on her part and she’d discovered that the bank had closed, but she’d managed to find an old warehouse where the records had ended up. Within minutes she was on the phone to the boys, explaining what she’d found and telling them to get a warrant and meet her at address she was sending them. Grabbing her leather jacket as well as her badge and gun, she ran out her door. Finally, FINALLY she had a solid lead that was going somewhere.

xxxxx

Beckett arrived at the warehouse before the boys and remained in her car, watching the building until they showed up with the warrant, despite the way every fiber of her being wanted to go inside and find the files she needed. But she was too good of a cop; she knew if she didn’t wait for the warrant, anything she found inside would be useless. As badly as she wanted to finally find out who was behind this whole thing, she wanted justice more…so she waited.

She narrowed her eyes as she saw a man coming out of the building, which was suspicious given the late hour. Getting out of her car, she drew her gun. “NYPD, don’t move,” she identified herself. The man froze for a moment. “Show me your hands and turn around slowly.” The man did as he was told, holding up his hands and turning around with a smug smirk on his face. Her eyes widened when she realized she was looking into the face of the man from the sketch; the man who shot Castle.

“Detective Beckett…” he stated, his tone as smug as the look on his face. He was cocky, but calm.

Her jaw clenched, her finger itching to pull the trigger on the man who shot Castle if he would give her any kind of reason. “You shot my partner,” she stated, her voice dangerously low. “Tell me who is behind this.”

“You’re wasting your time, Detective. You have no idea who you’re up against,” he stated simply.

“Neither do you.” Her tone was steely as it took every bit of self-control she had to not pull the trigger. She knew she still needed information, though. Information this man had.

The man chuckled lowly. “Actually, we know exactly who we’re up against.” At that moment, a small explosion was triggered inside, knocking Beckett off her feet slightly as the warehouse was suddenly engulfed in flames.

Despite the fire, she managed to maintain her gun on the man as he started to back away slowly. “Tell me who is behind this!” she demanded again.

“First I’m going to finish getting of all the evidence…and once I’m done, I’m coming back for you, Detective. And this time, if your pretty little writer boy gets in my way, I’ll kill him too.” He kept slowly backing up into the dark.

His last words got to her. By the time she had recovered, the sirens from the fire trucks signaled their proximity and the man had disappeared into the shadows again. Staring into the dark for another long moment, she finally lowered her gun and reholstered it before running her hands through her hair.

xxxxx

“Fire department confirms there is nothing left of the files,” Esposito approached Beckett’s desk at the precinct the following morning. “The explosion happened right in the file room. Anything that wasn’t immediately destroyed burned in the fire.”

Beckett heaved a deep sigh, leaning back in her chair. “This guy is always a step ahead of me. He was right there…I had him. And then…” she trailed off, clenching her jaw and pounding her hand on her desk in frustration.

Ryan watched for a moment, understanding how hard this was for her. “Beckett…we’ll get him, ok?”

“Will we? Because he’s a damn ghost that just appears when he wants and then disappears into the ether when he needs to,” she growled in frustration. Sighing again, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know his play now. He’s getting rid of the evidence. And then he’s coming back for me,” she said lowly. “For the first time in this case, I’m going to be one step ahead of him. I’m going after him before he can come after me.”

Ryan shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to draw him out before he gets to me.”

“Beckett, do you think that’s really a good idea? Gates is already highly suspicious with what happened last night…”

She gave him a stern look. “I don’t care. This is my case…my mother’s murder…my life. I am not sitting around and waiting for them to come and take it from me,” she said angrily. “Look, I’m not asking either of you to do this with me. But I’m getting this son of a bitch before he hurts anyone else I care about.”

“Come on, you know we’ve got your back, Beckett.” Esposito shot Ryan a warning look. “Don’t we, Ryan?”

The other man nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

xxxxx

“Yo, Beckett…we caught a break,” Esposito kept his voice down as he approached her in the breakroom at the coffee machine.

She arched an eyebrow. “What did you find?”

“Surveillance cam from across the street caught our guy approaching the warehouse. I was able to track his path backward using mostly traffic cams, and found him getting out of a parked car. Turns out the car was a rental,” he explained, acting like they were having a nonchalant conversation as he was making coffee.

“Were you able to figure out where he rented it from?”

Esposito smiled. “Better than that. I have an ID. Ryan is running it down now. Guy’s a pro, so it’s most likely a cover ID, but he might have used it for something else in the city.”

Beckett nodded, keeping her back to the window. “Thanks, Espo.”

Ryan popped his head in the breakroom then. “Cole Maddox. ID is fake, but the rental company keeps a GPS tracker in its cars. It’s within a one-block radius of this address,” he held up a piece of paper.

“You guys go canvas, see if you can find his base of operations…a hotel or apartment building. Someone had to have seen something. Gates isn’t going to let me leave now, but you find him and I’ll meet you there,” she kept her voice low as she spoke discretely before grabbing her cup and heading back to her desk.

xxxxx

“Did you find him?” Beckett asked the boys, approaching their car in front of a hotel. She’d finally been able to get out of the precinct after 5PM when her shift was over and Gates was no longer watching her every move. She finished fastening her police vest around her.

“Yeah. Front desk clerk confirms Maddox is here on a one-month lease. They agreed to let us in his room,” Esposito filled her in, both men already in their own police vest. “How do you want to play this?”

She thought for a moment. “Ryan, you stay down here in case he runs out. Espo, you’re coming

with me.”

The boys nod and Esposito follows Beckett inside, guns drawn and ready. Once up at the room, Esposito gestures for the hotel employee to go once the door is unlocked. He waits for Beckett’s nod before pushing the door open and stepping inside, her right on his heels as they clear the room. “Yo, Beckett!” he called from the other room.

She followed the sound of his voice. He was standing at a table with a laptop and a bunch of police files. “What the hell?”

“These look like old police files,” he answered, looking through them. “They’re Montgomery’s old files.”

“The evidence. He’s getting rid of the evidence so it can’t be linked back to his employer…so that this whole case gets buried…” she realized.

Esposito looked up to meet her eyes. “We’ve got to get out of here…get back-up to secure all this…” he started, already heading out of the room.

Maddox was waiting on him, though, and easily disarmed him, knocking him out and dropping him down to the floor. Beckett was already coming through the door with her gun drawn too, only to end up on the floor as well, without her gun. She wasn’t out of it yet, though, grabbing her gun and quickly scrambling out of the room after him and dialing Ryan’s number as she gave chase toward the stairwell. “Ryan, he’s heading to the roof!” she yelled through the phone before hanging up so she could focus on the man.

She ran out onto the roof and slowed when she didn’t see anyone. She kept her steps slow and quiet and paid attention, looking for any sign of him. Before she knew what happened, he grabbed her from behind. She immediately tossed her head back, knocking him in the nose and causing him to lose his grip on her. She immediately took a step away and tried to aim her gun back at him, only to have him knock her feet out from underneath her, causing her to land on her back with the wind knocked out of her, her gun falling from her hands.

She pushed herself up enough to lunge at his knees as he was getting up, tackling him back to the ground. She slammed his head into the ground, trying to subdue him. “Who do you work for?” she asked angrily.

He gave a hard punch to her ribs, knocking her off him. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll never touch him,” he said lowly, taking the opportunity to get up.

She was pretty sure the hit had at least fractured a rib or two; it hurt to breathe. But she had to get up. “You shot my partner!” she growled, using her anger to fuel her as she got up and lunged

at him again, jumping on his back to try to tackle him again.

He easily threw her off his back, elbowing her hard in the ribs he had previously hit. “That was a miscalculation on my part; I didn't anticipate he was brave enough to push you out of the way; guess what I heard is true...he is sweet on you,” he replied, kicking her in the same spot on her ribs. “It’s over, Detective,” he said calmly, turning away.

It did take her a few moments to get her breath enough to push herself up this time, but she had at least spotted her gun on the ground and was able to grab it, aiming at him as she stood. “You’re right…it is over,” she said lowly.

Before she had the chance to pull the trigger herself, a single shot rang out and Maddox crumpled to the ground. Beckett instinctively dove behind a rooftop ventilation unit, hoping it would provide appropriate cover. She waited for another shot to come, but it never did. Holding onto her ribs, she tried to push herself up to try to see something, but before she could even get to her knees she heard Ryan’s voice.

“Beckett!”

“Ryan, there’s another sniper!” she yelled out the best she could. Damn, her ribs really hurt and it was getting harder to breathe.

Ryan immediately slipped behind another rooftop unit. “Backup is already on the way,” he called out to her. “Maddox?”

“Sniper shot him,” she called back.

“You alright?”

She winced as she took a deep breath. “Other than a broken rib or two, yeah…I’m good. Espo is knocked out downstairs,” she informed him.

Once ESU arrived and had cleared the surrounding area of the sniper, Beckett was able to stand and slowly walk over to the body of Maddox, holding her ribs. She was bleeding from her nose and lip, and had a few other scrapes, but was otherwise okay; the damage was pretty much localized to her ribs. Standing over the body, she was silent until Ryan approached her. “Montgomery’s old files are down there…he was trying to get rid of the evidence. We have to get those files, Ryan,” she told him.

“You go get checked out. I’ll get the files,” he promised her. “No one is going to know about Montgomery,” he added.

She winced again as she took a breath and nodded. Seeing Esposito already awake and being checked by medics as she exited the building, she was able to smile. However, seeing a very angry Captain Gates caused her smile to fade.

“Sir…” she started immediately.

Gates held up her hand to interrupt. “Get yourself checked out, Detective. Then you and I are going to have a long conversation about what it means to be off a case,” she said angrily, pointing Beckett toward the medics.

“Yes, Sir.” Beckett did have to wonder exactly how much trouble she was going to be in and hoped she would be able to mitigate any kind of trouble the boys might be in by falling on her own sword, so to speak.

Spotting Beckett about the get into an ambulance, Ryan approached and asked the medic to give them a minute. “Those files you and Espo saw are gone,” he told her lowly.

Her eyes widened at that. “ESU?”

Ryan shook his head. “No. They were gone before any of our guys got here. In fact, they couldn’t find anything indicating Maddox was ever here, aside from his body on the roof.”

She thought for a moment. “The other sniper. Maddox screwed up shooting Castle instead of me. Whoever Maddox worked for must have gotten tired of waiting for him to finish the job and took him out to clean up his mess so that the whole case gets buried again.”

“Looks that way,” Ryan nodded. He gestured for her to go ahead and get into the ambulance.

xxxxx

“Withholding evidence. Lying to a superior officer. Disobeying a direct order. What you did dishonors this city, and dishonors the badge!” Gates was angrily giving Beckett a dressing down. “You are on administrative leave, effective immediately.”

“Sir…”

“Don’t you Sir me, Detective. You’re lucky I’m only suspending you and not firing you,” she continued angrily. “You don’t deserve to wear the uniform. Now hand over your badge and gun,” she ordered.

Beckett straightened slightly, placing her gun on the desk. She looked at her badge for a little longer before she placed it on the desk.

“For all the good things I had heard about you, Detective, I have to say you haven’t lived up to them. You’ve been a disappointment since I got here,” she stated. “Oh, and Detective? Your suspension doesn’t start until AFTER your medical leave for your injuries sustained on that roof is up. I don’t want to see you back here until September. I suggest you use these 3 and a half months to get your act together and decide if you still want to wear this badge; I will not tolerate my detectives going rogue and disobeying my orders.”

Clenching her jaw, Beckett nodded. “Yes, Sir,” she replied simply through clenched teeth before leaving the office.

The boys were waiting as she exited the office. “Well?” Ryan asked.

Beckett looked at both of them and shook her head. “It could have been worse,” she admitted. “I’m out until September.”

“September?! Beckett, that’s almost 4 months!” Esposito turned back to the office.

She was upset, but the last thing she wanted to do was make it worse for the boys. “It’s fine. I knew it was coming for going against her orders; she's no Montgomery. I’ll see you guys in September, ok?” She grabbed her things from her desk and headed for the elevator.

The boys watched her leave in disbelief, staring at the elevator until the doors had closed. “This sucks,” Esposito murmured.

“Yeah it does,” Ryan agreed.

xxxxx

Castle was staring at a blank screen on his laptop. He’d been trying to write for days, but nothing would come to him. He was broken out of his staring contest with his laptop screen by his phone ringing. When he saw the caller was unknown, he almost didn’t answer it, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Castle,” a man’s voice answers.

“Yeah?”

“I’m a friend of Roy Montgomery’s. I’m calling about Detective Beckett. We need to talk.”

xxxxx

“Richard, you have to tell her!” Martha insisted, trying to talk some sense into her son.

“If I tell her, she won’t let this thing go! She’ll just keep running right into the line of fire!” Castle argued back.

“She’s already in the line of fire,” Martha countered. “Richard, listen to me. You haven’t spoken to her in over two weeks. She’s already investigating the shooting, she knows it’s connected to her mother’s case. You are in no condition to physically help her. Right now the only thing you can do for her is to tell her about this man.” Seeing her son about to interrupt, she held her hand up to stop him. “It’s her life, Richard. You can’t make decisions for her. You owe it to her to at least let her have all the information so she can make an informed one.”

He was quiet for a moment. “And what if I don’t like her decision?”

“Then you have a choice to make. You can stand with her, or you can move on. That’s your choice. But this…Richard, this first choice is hers.”

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. He knew his mother was right. She had the right to know. Maybe he’d be able to reason with her. Maybe they’d be able to figure out something together. But he had to tell her. The only problem was he wasn’t sure she would talk to him now; it had been over two weeks since he’d kicked her out of his hospital room. He had no idea where they stood before that point, but now he really had no clue. Picking up his phone, he clicked on her name and hoped she would answer.

xxxxx

Beckett sat alone in her apartment, trying to get comfortable. She was stubborn about taking the pain medication for the broken ribs, preferring to suffer for the time being. Between that and her head space surrounding the shooting, her mother’s case and her suspension, she was finding it increasingly difficult to relax, not to mention she had no idea what she was going to do to stay sane all summer. Maybe I should pack a bag and head up to Dad’s cabin. She was already shifting to get up when her phone started to ring. Seeing Castle’s name surprised her. They hadn’t spoken since their argument at the hospital. “Hey Castle,” she answered, trying to act like she wasn’t affected in the least by everything.

“Hey…” he started, suddenly unsure how he was supposed to talk to her. It needed to be in person, and he was in the Hamptons. “How busy are you?”

She wasn’t busy at all considering she wasn’t allowed to work until the fall, but he didn’t need to know that. “Oh you know, the usual. Why?”

He figured he might as well just be straight with her. He had a better chance of her agreeing to meet if he was. “We need to talk about the case…in person. Can you come out to the Hamptons?”

That shocked her; why was he calling her about the case? “Castle…”

“Kate, it’s important. I can’t tell you over the phone, it needs to be in person.”

She could tell from the way he was speaking to her that it was important. “Okay. I can drive out tomorrow.”

“Okay.” That hadn’t been as difficult as he’d thought. He lingered a moment longer. “Uh…you could stay a few days if you wanted…” he found himself offering. He had missed her…and maybe they could talk about what was between them, assuming the argument at the hospital and what he was going to tell her hadn’t caused her to retreat back into herself again. Maybe now they could have a chance to talk, really talk, with no interruptions.

She found herself rolling her eyes. Though she supposed it was at least something to do so she wasn’t going crazy in her apartment. She thought back to the previous summer when he’d made her the same offer and she’d turned him down, only then to reconsider too late; she’d missed her shot then, did she want to risk missing her shot now? “Text me the address. I’ll see you tomorrow, Castle.” She hung up without giving him an answer one way or the other, figuring she’d take a bag and decide after she heard what he had to say whether or not she would stay for a few days. After all, it wasn’t like she had to be back at the precinct.

xxxxx

I told you guys this was a long one, full of plot. Hopefully you all made it here to the end! Next chapter will be better, I promise…Castle and Beckett will be in it together and no real police work!

#caskett #castle #kate beckett #richard castle #castle fanfiction #caskett fanfiction #beckett

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hellaverse-deconstructed · 2 months

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5 of the Most Notable Images in Hazbin Hotel

To start, I honestly think that this was one of the most impactful frames of the first episode and it sets up Charlie's conflict with heaven perfectly. We already kind of understand from the little lore breakdown in the beginning of the episode that heaven is going to be a difficult entity to deal with, but this whole scene really solidifies it. Not only is Adam set up as one of the story's biggest antagonistic forces, but he's set up as a character that exists to directly oppose Charlie. Everything he does is done with the intent to demean her and her values -- some examples include him using up all of their meeting time talking about things that are irrelevant to the purpose of the meeting, refusing to entertain her concerns, taking every possible opportunity to make her look bad. This shot alone (which, interestingly enough, is only like a handful of frames in the first episode) sets the tone for their dynamic perfectly.

(Sorry for the crappy image quality; I had to get these screenshots through a third party service!)

I feel like this image has more personal significant than plot-relevant significance, but I still wanted to talk about it! Throughout the season, we see this underlying struggle between two groups of overlords -- overlords that have been around for a long time (think: Zestial, Alastor [barely makes the cut], Carmilla) and newer overlords (e.g. Valentino, Vox, Velvette, Beelzebub). I just think it's so interesting that we get to see how things function differently between different generations of overlords. I'm also really looking forward to seeing how/if Hell will end up making the shift to rely more on newer technologically dependent overlords as the times and social needs of Hell's population shift.

I think we can all agree that this image speaks really strongly. To start, this is the first time that we see Anthony breaking the "Angel Dust" persona, which is a really strong plot point on its own. I also think that, without making it feel too expository, Angel Dust is a really good example of exactly what making a deal with an overlord can look like. Although I'm sure it's different between overlords depending on their motive (if that's the right word for it), I'm sure the amount of control is about the same. Between Angel Dust and Husker, both of whom are bound to their respective overlords because they've sold their souls, both of them seem to cruise along with their bosses as long as they don't present any unnecessary challenges.

I don't have too much to say about this one, I mostly just included it because this is one of the most popular songs in the show (Loser, Baby) and I really do hope that these two idiots end up together (though it feels a little bit unlikely as I squint as Stolas and Blitzo from Helluva Boss). I also feel like it's important to point out, because one of my friends didn't see it until I pointed it out to her, that this image is colored with the colors of the MLM pride flag!

I would honestly say that this image is one of the most impactful images in the entire show. I have watched this episode probably at least a hundred times and this scene still gives me goosebumps every time I see it. For context: this is after Charlie has been able to secure a meeting with Heaven's Court to argue for the cause of her hotel, that sinners should be worthy of Redemption so that they can move on to Heaven. This would take care of the problem of Hell constantly becoming overpopulated. As it turns out, no one in Heaven knows what actually got them there, which leads us to this scene. Enraged, Charlie and Emily (one of Heaven's seraphim) are pushing back in song against Heaven's Court and their qualifications. Charlie has just spent all of this time arguing that Angel Dust, as an example, should qualify for redemption and it turns out that it was all (kind of) for nothing because no one in the court has any say in who comes to Heaven and who doesn't. It might seem kind of silly but, trust me, just watch the episode (Episode 6). It'll just make so much more sense.

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #husker dust #charlie morningstar

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lostfracturess · 4 months

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Heyyy!!!

Your fics are seriously AMAZING so I wanted to ask you for some advice!!

Do you have any tips for getting into writing fanfics?

I desperately want to but I have no idea where to start and I don’t feel like my writing is that good 😭

Also, thanks sm for writing your fics they are always so entertaining and I rly enjoy reading them ❤️

hi dear! thank you for your sweet message! ♡

my best advice for getting into writing is just to start writing. sounds rather simple, but you'll learn the most by just doing it. and don't be afraid to just start; you already have everything you need—motivation and some device to write on!

also don't be afraid that the first story will probably not be your best, but let's be honest—everyone's first writing is rather crappy, mine included!

but you'll see you'll improve from story to story and learn while writing what works for you and what does not. i started writing over 10 years ago and write nowadays basically every day for university and work. but writing longer fan fictions is also new to me!

also, you don't have to write a 100k fanfic at first. start slow with one-shots or with certain scenes you have in mind or just a dialogue and then go from there and build a story around :)

i also do this, when i have a writers block or don't know where to start. i just start somewhere and then build around it. you don't have to start with the first scene or sentences.

following a few things i try to follow, but i fail to incorporate this as well. maybe this works for you as well, but don't be pressured to follow those:

show, don't tell: use descriptive language to show characters' emotions and reactions, rather than telling the reader how they feel. that's really something that you learn over time and i also have still a hart time to do this consistently. furthermore i try to also incorporate this in the literal way i write. for example, when the mc is supposed to be confused, i write rather short, ragged sentences to not only convey the feelings but also in the way the sentence is structured, if that makes sense.

structure: short sentences > long sentences; short paragraphs for easier reading but also reading flow, especially when it's an action scene. there, i try to write very short main sentences and short paragraphs to keep the pace up.

dialogue: use dialogue to reveal character traits, conflicts, and plot details. i think it's more interesting to the reader that way instead of writing it in a narrative.

pacing I: maybe it's just me, but i'd rather have a lot happening than a lot of introspective description. so i try to give as much description of the scene as necessary for the reader to get the idea but then move right into the scene with dialogue to make it interesting, or start with dialogue right away and then piece by piece incorporate descriptive narrative. but other authors really like writing descriptive narrative, so just try what works for you!

pacing II: this may be due to my academic writing background, but you don't actually need so many words. it's much more difficult to accurately convey the same feelings in one sentence than if you write ten somewhat blurry sentences to convey the same feeling. try to keep it short and pronounced. i normally delete around 10–20% of my writing while proofreading again to make it more compact.

and also, don't forget to have fun while writing! write what you like and don't let yourself be dragged down if someone doesn't like your writing. you don't have to be liked by everyone :)

i hope this will help you a bit! also, would love to read your first writing! sending you love & have a great day or night ♡

#inbox #writing advice

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flowerstardrops · 2 years

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( BEGONIAS ) kozume kenma x gn!reader

this is actually a one-shot containing an intimidating!reader. i thought the idea was cute but it's also lowkey self-indulgent due to my past experiences.

WORDS: 1689

GENRE: romance ( crush stage ), fluff

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AT SOME POINT IN OUR LIVES, we come to the realization that life was never fair to anyone. It just is, what it is in its most objective form, meaning that it simply moves continuously without waiting for anything or anyone. But the people living within it is what makes us so unsatisfied.

Subconsciously, we are shaped by experiences that nudge the beginning of our evolution. And we reach the highest forms of development when in contact with other beings that are also growing, similar to ourselves. When our experiences interconnect, it creates external ripples that accordingly creates impacts within ourselves, and thus, creates learnings. Learnings that we will all eventually internalize.

The process of developmental evolution occurs to everyone, and you are no exception.

Perhaps it’s your face or the way you stare off into space when thoughts run through your head, but when subjective beliefs come in contact with objective knowledge, one is left at a standstill. Placing labels plucked by one's' views on the face of an object is what causes the dissatisfaction to emerge. Society is no exception, in fact, the abstract concepts that make up a community is what makes the society itself. While, the technical aspects are what makes an individual alive.

Perceptions are what makes an object and an individual exist after all.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to appreciate how you are viewed. Because for one, you can say that the way you are perceived doesn’t fit within the boundaries of what society would call “friendly”. And it frustrates you almost to no end because making friends is the same as making pie for people who suck at baking: it’s not easy.

So, you live life unintentionally isolated for the most part. Sometimes there are people around you that don’t seem to mind you the way you are, but they don’t hold enough appreciation or bond with you to stay. But as a person, you have grown accustomed to watching others from afar; them inviting others in but never happening to include you. Either way, they all come and go.

“(Last Name)-san,” He spoke quietly and paused as if unsure, “Do you have the notes for yesterday’s lesson?”

But there is this one person that seems to approach you at random times. He isn’t necessarily always with you to be considered a friend, but he isn’t far away as to be considered a stranger. He isn’t a prominent-enough imprint in your life, but he is always there and hasn’t truly left.

In the smallest ways, Kozume Kenma became the pebble to the silent and unmoving puddle of your life.

You nodded curtly, “Yes. Do you want to borrow it?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“It’s no problem.”

He’s your seatmate and every single day, he doesn’t fail to interact with you at least once. You aren’t entirely sure why because he doesn’t seem to be keen on talking with other people. Similar to you, he’s typically alone but the difference is that he does so intentionally. But gathering the circumstances, you assumed that he was doing this out of pity.

He probably noticed the way you tried your best to open yourself up to people but still failed with awkward laughs and short-word responses. If he was doing this out of pity, you wish he’d stop because you just feel pathetic.

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Kozume Kenma is aware that he’s an introvert through and through, and sometimes, it’s difficult. More so because he likes someone. And even more so because he has difficulties outwardly expressing.

He isn’t like Lev who could wear his heart on his sleeve and not care too much about it, and he isn’t like Taketora who could just pounce on a girl he likes, confessing his love. Because he is Kenma, and Kenma finds it hard to show his appreciation for the person he likes. Without them finding out about his liking. Without them finding out about his liking yet still making progress.

But Kozume Kenma is lucky because he likes you. You, who were similar to him yet quite different at the same time.

“Thinkin’ about (Last Name)-san again?” Kuroo teases him with a sly grin.

Kenma settles for ignoring him and continues to gaze at you from afar. He and his team had just finished running laps and he could feel the sharpness of his breath everytime he breathed. But as he watched you sit on the other side of the field, sitting on a bench with a book in hand, the uncomfortable exhausted feeling in his chest blurs out.

“How about we run there and say hi?” Kuroo suggests and Kenma immediately shakes his head.

“No.”

“Why not? (Last Name)-san looks kind of serious all the time but they seem nice. I’m sure they’d greet you back.”

“They are nice, but it’s not because of that.” Kenma responded and shook his head once again.

“Then what? If you think they’re going to figure out that you like them with just a ‘hi’, then you’re being silly. We’re just gonna run past them and give them a wave, okay?” Kuroo pushes persistently.

Kenma let out an annoyed sound and grumbled before sipping on his jug, “Do what you want.”

Kuroo claps his hands together, earning the attention of the other members who were taking a break, “Okay! Instead of running back and forth here on the side of the field, this time, we’ll run around it. Five laps, let’s go!”

As Kenma’s teammates began to run, he decided to stay behind as per usual. With every step and every sharp breath released through his mouth, he finds himself closer to where you were, until eventually, he runs right past you. He sees the way your head tilts up to look away from the book you were reading, and all in the span of a few milliseconds, he sees the way your lips curl upwards a little and your eyes making contact with him as a form of greeting.

His face suddenly feels hotter and it isn’t entirely because of the run.

He runs past you four more times, and each time, you seem to be observing him and his teammates. You don’t smile nor do you give any form of encouragement, but he feels your eyes on him the entire time. He imagines that you’re the prince or princess to be saved right after the boss level, and with each lap he accomplishes, he comes close to saving you. And that is sufficient encouragement to get himself going.

Right after the final lap, he stands on the other side of the field from you once again with his chest rising and dipping deeply. He sees that you have set the book down once again, but this time, you were clapping silently while looking at them.

“Seems (Last Name)-san is impressed with you.” Kuroo comments right beside him.

Inside, Kenma hopes that the claps were for him, but instead he says, “It’s probably for all of us.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say…”

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The weeks go by and every single day without fail, Kozume Kenma talks with you with his usual quiet voice.

“(Last Name)-san.”

“Yes?” You ask, flitting your eyes away from your Science worksheet to look at him. You weren’t exactly a big fan of Science-related Mathematics.

“Do you need any help?”

“Yes, please.”

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“(Last Name)-san.”

“Hm?”

“Do you have an extra eraser?”

“Here.”

“Thank you.”

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“(Last Name)-san.”

“Yes?” You pause, looking up at your seatmate before adding, “Just call me (First Name).”

“A-Ah, okay. Call me Kenma, then.”

You nod then speak up, getting straight to the point, “What do you need?”

You see him flinch slightly and you tilt your head curiously at the rather strange reaction. You were sure that you hadn’t said anything offensive—or maybe did you? You replayed the previous scenario inside your head before coming up with none that might’ve caused him to react this way. So, you waited. You watched as he turned his gaze away for a second before looking back at you once again, piercing light honey irises staring into yours.

He purses his lips then quietly asks, “Can… Can we be friends?”

You might’ve missed his words due to how silent it is, but the proximity helped you in hearing him. You concluded; he was quite shy.

You frowned and he immediately bit his lip awkwardly, turning to face the board once again. You catch the way the tips of his ears had begun to turn red.

“Sorry, d-don’t mind what I just—”

You cut him off, “I thought we were already friends. Or maybe I was just getting ahead of myself?”

His head turned to look at you rapidly with his eyes wide. He waved his hands a little frantically right in front of him with furrowed brows representing his worry.

“No. No you weren’t. I just…” He paused unsurely, “I just didn’t want to be rude if I declared us to be friends all of a sudden. I was considering— maybe you didn’t want to, s-so I asked.”

He waited.

A second later, he heard a silent “pfft” and eventually it had grown to a fit of quiet chuckles.

“Am I really that scary?” You asked, your laughter dying down as your eyes turned serious. Your curiosity and perhaps a little bit of anticipation for his answer were flooding your mind at the moment.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like how you looked at him at the moment. It was the same expression you had when there were times that other people from class didn’t necessarily try to include you, even if they knew that you were trying hard to fit in. Your lips were twitched to the smallest of frowns and your eyes had grown dull.

“No, you’re not.” He shook his head, “You’re easy to talk to. Besides… I’m surrounded by hyperactive volley-crazed giants during matches. Now, they’re scary.”

He sees your lips curl up to a smile and he took this opportunity to ask once more.

“So. Friends?”

“Thanks, Kenma. And yes, I’d like that.”

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