#long to read but also a long time to write for some reason??
Text
tension
part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!
pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig
length: 3.2k
author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi
tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party
warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!
summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?
originally posted by iholdwhatican
It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.
Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste.
Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony.
Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick
“You look like you’re gonna puke.”
For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump.
You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen.
“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly.
“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.”
You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him.
A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth.
“What happened out there?”
The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.”
“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen?
But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.”
A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.”
He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen.
You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine.
That expression was clear, resolute competition.
Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it.
You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it.
“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?”
“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.”
“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.”
Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it.
Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.”
You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.”
“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”
You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.”
“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.”
“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him.
“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed.
You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together.
When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter.
“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you.
And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes.
Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party.
“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment.
“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything.
Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused.
It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.
Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him.
“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face.
You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing.
“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.”
You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?”
“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.”
You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?”
Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?”
“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.”
Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up.
“You care about me?”
Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth?
“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.”
“Okay, I would never let it get that far-”
“I wanna help.”
He blinked, “Help how?”
Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly.
The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed.
“How much do you need?”
“Huh?”
You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.”
Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping.
“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?”
He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this.
You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.”
“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap?
You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.”
“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.”
Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger.
“Then tell me what you need.”
“What do you think I need?”
Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.
Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.”
The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?”
“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating.
His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again.
“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?”
“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.”
A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.
“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.”
You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling.
“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.
“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words.
“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off.
Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs.
The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his.
Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.
You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar.
Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please.
He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him.
You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he.
Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss.
You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning.
Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp.
“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his.
Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks.
“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.”
The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.
As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut.
And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text.
Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?
***
Taglist:
@jxssimae
@jackierose902109
@dvrkstxrlightt
@yesimwriting
@1989tvcore
@kookie29
@dopeoafslimebanana
@vadergf
@nsyncvinyl
@ireallydontcareanymorebrooo
@brunettegirl
#challengers#challengers movie#challengers 2024#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#challengers fic#challengers fanfic#art donaldson x patrick zweig#challengers x reader#challengers x you#art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig#tashi duncan#charly writes!!
572 notes
·
View notes
Text
୨⎯𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙰𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ⎯୧
Chapter 3
Authors note: Satoru is actually becoming likeable! Also this isn’t proof read again hehe
Tw: Alcohol consumption
August 20th 2017
After a long summer of rest, fun, and heartbreak, it was finally time for the back-to-school season. And for you, it was time to start your first semester at Kyoto College. You were excited of course, it was a fresh start and a chance to meet new people. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you were still a little hurt about what happened at the festival but you were trying to get over it. That wouldn’t stop the thoughts about how Satoru was supposed to also be going to Kyoto College but had changed his mind a few months beforehand.
Now you think it’s better he doesn’t come. Running into him would most likely go a lot like it did at the festival. There was no universe in which he’d want to see you and potentially be friends. Those were all hopes of the past and you’ve learned to accept it. You would be lying if you didn’t say you weren’t a little mad at Satoru. I mean, after all, he hated you for no reason. He was rude and he made it clear he wanted nothing to do to you. You wish you had gotten the hint earlier in high school so you didn’t look like such a hopeless romantic. Now that you think about it, maybe Alina wasn’t the only one with an obvious crush on Satoru.
More importantly, you were moving out of the only home you’ve ever known for the year. You were dorming on campus with what you hoped would be a good roommate. You packed everything you needed for the time being. You took one last look at your room before heading out. You lived an hour and thirty minutes away from Kyoto University, so you wouldn’t be going home daily. More like once a week or two. It wasn’t too bad a schedule, but for you who aren’t used to being away from home for so long, it would be a little difficult.
Your parents helped you load up the car and you drove to the campus. After finally arriving on campus you had your parents help you load stuff in your dorm. The dorm was average-sized. Your roommate wasn’t coming until tomorrow so it gave you some time to adjust and have things the way you wanted them. You said goodbyes to your family and there you were. Sitting in your empty dorm room with boxes of stuff packed around you. You sighed and laid down on your bed staring straight up at the ceiling. Classes started tomorrow and you were taking the writing class you wanted to take. That was something to look forward to, right?
You explored the campus and got a feel of where you would be dedicating the next four years of your education. You got some ramen at a local ramen shop on campus and went back to your dorm where you would eat in silence. Your roommate decided to come a little earlier and came later that evening. So far you liked her.
Her name was Ayaka. She was 18 and was really interested in majoring in arts. She seemed like someone you could make friends with so that was good. She was super optimistic and she wore bright clothes and had bright room decor. She was the solar opposite of you but it was nice to have the company. You two talked for a while and you realized you weirdly had a lot in common. You botched like reading books, especially manga, you both strive to do good in school, and you both didn’t have any friends. You were just glad to have a good roommate and a nice person to talk to. So far college life was good, even though you hadn’t actually started classes.
So there you were the next day standing in front of your mirror wearing an outfit that wasn’t you at all. You just wanted to make a good impression on your first day, but you figured it would be better if you dressed like yourself. Wearing a mini skirt and a crop top was unlike you, so you changed to the usual hoodie and some sweats. Much better and much more comfortable.
“I like your outfit, Y/N,” Ayaka said from her top bunk as she dangled her legs and played with one of many charm bracelets. You gave her a smile and adjusted your ponytail. “Thanks.” You said putting the last notebook into your bag. Even though you hadn’t even known each other for 24 hours, you were becoming friends. You had a fresh start indeed.
You two went your separate ways as you had classes on opposite sides of the campus. You walked to your first class which was mathematics, a subject you didn’t like but you did decent in it. The class wasn’t too bad. You got to know your professor and some other nearby seatmates. After that, you had social science. You actually made good friends with a friend group consisting of three people. They were all super nice and again you had a bunch of shared interests. This college thing wasn’t so bad after all.
After three classes, you had a break for lunch where you sat with your new-found friends, including Ayaka. You talked about the professors you liked the ones you didn’t and the classes you wanted to take and the ones you didn’t. It was going great until Ayaka mentioned something that piqued your interest immediately.
“Yeah so, in my art class this morning there was this really pretty boy. He seemed popular already too! He had white hair and the prettiest shade of blue eyes you’ve ever seen. He was soo cool. He had these piercings and-” Ayakas voice faded into the background. White hair blue eyes, white hair blue eyes. Surly it couldn’t be him. You heard yourself that he was going to the University of Tokyo with Alina so why would he be here? What could have changed? Then again, maybe it’s not him. His hair could have been a super light blonde instead of white right? But those eyes, you couldn’t mistake those eyes.
Your mind was running wild with thoughts about the mystery man who was possibly Satoru. It was only confirmed when:
“Yeah he was so pretty, I think his name started with an S or something. Sawyer? No that’s stupid. Sa...Ugh, I can’t remember.” She was cut off by you mid-sentence.
“Satoru. His name was Satoru, right?” You asked. You had to be sure it was him. And even if it was, why was he here, why did he change schools last second? You had so many questions, but on top of all of that was the slight bit of hope that maybe things could be different this time.
“Yeah, yeah! That was his name, Satoru. Do you know him or something?” Ayaka said as she took another bite of her Mac and Cheese. Your stomach felt like it was making knots. So it really was him. Satoru Gojo was at your school after all, but why, and did that mean Alina was there?
“Yeah actually, we used to go to the same high school, long story.” You said snapping out of your daydreaming. Ayaka looked surprised at your comment.
“Really? I figured he was a model or something. You must have been lucky to have him at your school.” She said. The rest of your friend's conversation faded into the back as you pondered. Ok so it was confirmed to be him, but now what? There was a likely chance of running into him, but what would you do if you did? Ignore him, smile at him, hell maybe even try to talk to him? But would he even be interested in striking up a conversation with you? Probably not. It’s probably best for you to ignore him like he's done to you right?
After the lunch break ended you headed to class. This one you were pretty excited about because it was the writing class. You got there a bit early so you could get to know the professor. You may have seemed like a teacher's pet to others but you were excited for this professor's class. You took a seat in the middle row of seats and pulled out your supplies. As class officially started students started to flood in, you were looking to see if a certain white head of hair had entered but you hadn’t seen anything yet. Thank god. You weren’t sure if it would be a good or bad thing if he were to come into this class. But if he were to come, you’d try your best to avoid him.
The class filled up rather quickly and there was one seat left which was right by you. As you were waiting for the class to start, you had your head down lost in the fantasy of the book you were reading, you only looked up when you felt the presence of someone sitting next to you. You only looked up when they had dropped their pen and you grabbed it for them. That's when you locked eyes with those eyes. Those beautiful ocean eyes. His eyes. No other than Satoru Gojo sat beside you. You were shocked it really was him. He mumbled a quiet thanks before taking his pen back and looking up at the board. You closed your book and paid attention to the board, not that you were really paying attention though. You kept getting the occasional glance at Satoru and he did the same even going as far as to smile at you. It was like the first day of high school all over again.
Things felt different like he was being maybe even nice to you. Did you change that much over the summer that he couldn’t recognize you or something? The only thing you really changed about your appearance was getting bangs over the summer but unless Satoru’s blind, he would still know it’s you. Unless he was just being genuinely nice for some odd reason. You were so lost in your thoughts that you basically missed half the first lecture, but it didn’t really matter to you now.
After class, you were both packing up when your professor called you up.
“Since you two are the last ones here, can you do me a favor and clean the board and sweep the floors? There’s a board meeting in here next and I haven’t had the time to do it, I have to grab the snacks for everyone.” Your professor asked in a hurry. Normally it would have been an immediate yes, but again it wasn’t just you, it was Satoru too. But you couldn’t turn down your clearly stressed professor just because of a boy so you agreed and so did Satoru.
“Thank you both, I owe ya!” He said walking out of the class and closing the door behind him. An awkward silence fell over the room as you and Satoru stood there for a second before you took the broom and began to sweep. You didn’t care at this point. You just wanted this awkward interaction to be over with. Satoru took an eraser and ran it over the chalk writing on the board. There had been an awkward silence for a few minutes before Satoru finally broke it.
Satoru cleared his throat “So, how did you like his class?” He asked, eyes still preen on removing the chalk writing on the board.
You were silent for a second, still not completely sure he was talking to you. “Uh, I liked it, it was interesting.” You replied focusing on sweeping like it was the most important thing ever.
“Yeah.” He said. He stopped erasing and turned to look at you. You looked up at him and you two made eye contact for what felt like forever. His eyes focused on yours and the same with yours. You cleared your throat before looking back down and sweeping, but Satoru was still looking at you, you could feel it.
“Y/N, I want you to know I’m sorry for being such a douchebag in high school, you didn’t deserve that.” He said rebreaking the silence. Your mouth almost dropped to the floor. Satoru was apologizing to you? Now? Why was he doing it now? Was he dying and he wanted to make right before he passed or something? You stopped your brain from jumping to crazy and stupid conclusions like that and thought of a way to respond to all this.
“It’s.. ok, I guess.” That was all you said as you continued to sweep up the floor. You couldn't stop yourself from asking the next question though. “Why now are you apologizing?” You asked finally looking up from the floor again. He was looking down at you.
“Because we're in college now, there's no need to hold stupid grudges from high school, so let’s have a fresh start, yeah?” He said with a smile. The first ever genuine smile he’s given you since that day in freshman year. You were very surprised, but what he said made sense. Even though it had only been a month since you last saw him, he seemed to grow over such a short period of time. But there was another question eating at you. Where was Alina, and why did he not go to the University of Tokyo with her?
Since Satoru was being honest with you, you did the same.
“So, what happened to your girlfriend?” You asked as you set the broom down, finally being done with your small side quest. A flash of confusion crossed Satoru’s face for a moment as if he was totally unaware of having this so-called ‘girlfriend’.
“Who?” He asked as he finished wiping up the last bit of chalk on the board. Now it was your turn to be the confused one. Just a month ago, Alina had made it very clear that she was with Satoru now. It was confirmed by your own eyes when you saw them kiss in the parking lot too. So why is he now acting like he isn’t dating her? The thought that they may have broken up popped up in your mind as well.
“You know, Alina. She told me you two were together back at the festival, and I saw you guys kissing in the parking lot.” You told him as you sat and spun in the professor's chair right in front of him. Satoru giggled a bit.
“Me and Alina? No, I bet she was just pranking you, we’re not dating. And that kiss was just her trying to make some boy jealous, so I went along.” Satoru said clearing up the misunderstanding.
Maybe the kiss made sense now but you remember very vividly Alina telling you that the two of them were together. It made you a little happy to know that she tried to make you jealous but lied the whole time. And it was clear by Satoru’s tone that he saw her more as a close friend than a girlfriend. But another part of you felt a little bad for Alina. Crazy, right? But the poor girl was so desperate to keep other girls away from him that she would lie and ruin other girl’s reputations one of those being yours. Wait, maybe you don’t feel so bad after all. So they weren’t together, that was kind of a relief. You seemed to note that Satoru probably didn’t want to talk about your little confession, so you didn’t bring it up.
You two were interrupted by the professor coming back in with a tray of snacks and napkins in his hand.
“Thank you, you two. I will pay you back somehow. You can go now, I gotta set up.” He said ushering you out of his classroom. This was the last class of the day so you had nothing but time. You and Satoru awkwardly stood outside the door of the class before he spoke.
“Uh wanna head to the dorms now?” He asked rubbing his undercut. You nodded and you both headed in that direction. The dorms weren’t on the same floor due to the gender-separated dorm system, but they were in the same building. The walk there was silent, it wasn’t as awkward as it would have been before but it was quiet. You finally decide to ask him another question as you enter the building.
“So why’d you not go to the University of Tokyo with Alina?” You said as you both stood at the beginning of the stairwell which would lead to different floors. He took a long pause before speaking.
“It’s gonna seem stupid but, it’s cause my father used to go here and… I don’t know I guess I wanted to carry on his legacy and make him proud.”
Right. You had heard that Satoru’s dad had sadly passed when he was still young and it affected him greatly. He didn’t like talking about it either. So it had to mean something for him to tell you about it.
“Yeah, I thought I wanted to go to the University of Tokyo because a bunch of my friends were going there like Alina and the rest, but, I thought about it and I wanted to come here again. Alina thinks she might transfer here next year, but I don’t think she will.
That made sense now. Satoru always wanted to come here for his dad but was temporarily persuaded by his friends to join them at the University of Tokyo. You were kind of glad that he came to this school. This felt like it could be the beginning of a friendship between the two of you, or something like that.
“Oh, that’s nice I guess.” You said holding on to the straps of your bags. “Well, I’m that way.” You said pointing to your dorm level.
“And I’m that way.” He said pointing to the level of his dorm. “I guess we'll see each other another time, bye Y/N.” He said heading up to his dorm. Maybe Satoru wasn’t so bad after all. He was just misunderstood by you, and Alina didn’t help with that image. He was pretty chill, you see why people wanted to be friends with him so bad.
August 21st 2017
You were woken up bright and early by a text message on your phone. It was six am and you were staring into the bright light of your phone. What stared back at you was a notification saying that Satoru had started following you on Instagram. Your eyes widened for a brief moment as you clicked on his profile skimming through the photos. He had a very active social life, there was no doubt about that.
He had a lot of photos of himself with friends, and family, and traveling to different places. He also had a lot of photos with Alina, who was tagged in each one. You clicked on her user and checked out her page. Half of her pictures were ones with Satoru. You blocked her before hitting the ‘follow’ button on Satoru’s profile. You put your phone down and went right back to sleep.
Later that morning you woke up and started getting ready when your phone dinged again. This time it was a DM from Satoru on Instagram. You opened it and read what he had said. “I was just looking through your profile and I didn’t know you liked manga. I have a big collection myself.” He said. You smiled at that because, under his popular boy image, he was just as much as much as a nerd as you.
“Yeah, I like reading One Piece, what about you?” You texted back as you resumed getting ready.
“Same!” He said. This brought another smile to your face.
After finally getting ready, you started walking onto campus with your friends but their conversations faded to the back as you thought about things with Satoru. Things were going great so far, and it indeed seemed like the beginning of a friendship.
“Yeah, there’s a party there tonight, wanna go? Y/N?” Ayaka tapped your shoulder and you snapped out of it. “What are you pondering about?” Ayaka asked.
“Nothing, what were you asking me?” You said brushing a strand of hair out of your face.
“I was asking if you want to go to a party with me tonight! It’s for the freshman and like everyone is going. Ayaka said nudging your shoulder. You had other academic things to focus on that night so you declined.
“Nah that's ok, you guys have fun though.” You said as you pulled out your phone and checked for any DM’s. Nothing new from Satoru. You wonder if he’s going to the party, but then remember it’s Satoru, of course, he would be there with girls swarming all around him.
After classes that day, you went to a coffee shop on campus and did a little reading there. You were at the climax of the book when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You took out your headphones and turned around to see Satoru with some books in his hands.
“Can I sit here?” Here said with a few strands of his snow colored hair in his face. You nodded and he sat down. You took out your headphones and closed your book.
“So are you going to that freshman party thing tonight?” Satoru asked taking a sip of his expresso.
“No, it doesn’t really interest me.” You said playing with the rim of your novel. “Are you going?” You asked as you stared at him. You were tempted to move those strands of hair out of his face as you paid attention to him.
“Yeah, I figured it would be a chance to get, hang out with my friends, and meet new people,” Satoru said. “You should come though, you never came to one of the high school ones so the least you can do is come to college ones.”
You sighed. He was right about that, but did you actually want to go to a party tonight? No, that was the last thing you wanted to do. But he and your new friend group were all going too. Sure you didn’t really like parties but, it was college, it was time to step out of your comfort zone for a bit.
You hesitated. ‘I’ll… think about it.” Satoru smiled at your words.
“Great, so I’ll take that as a yes!” Satoru said taking another sip of his drink. He gave you a lemon muffin which he had bought for you at the front of the coffee shop. Lemon was your favorite flavor, so it was cute how he got you a lemon muffin most likely not even knowing.
After you and Satoru left the cafe you went your separate ways and you dashed up your dorms staircase. You went to your dorm and asked Ayaka for help on what to wear, how to do your makeup, hair all of that. She laughed a bit
“Y/N, It’s not a dinner date, it’s a college party, you don’t have to dress up so much. Just wear a tight short dress, leave your hair down, and a little makeup.” She said laughing at your frantic state of panic.
“Why did you change your mind? I thought you didn’t want to come.” Ayaka said as she put her hair in a bun and ate her instant ramen from the cup. You sighed.
“Well I didn’t but now someone I like is going and he wanted me to come so, I’m coming.” You said looking through your wardrobe for anything somewhat cute. Unfortunately, you didn’t own any tight dresses, so the best outfit you could put together was a short top and a skirt. Ayaka did a light amount of makeup for you and did your hair as well. You looked good, and it didn’t feel like you were being a fake either.
You and Ayaka walked to the party which wasn’t too long a walk. You met up with a few other friends too. Now you were standing in front of the door, the sound of loud music playing in the room.
“Are you guys ready for our first college party?” Ayaka said excitedly as she opened the door and you all entered.
It was loud and smelled of booze, there were a lot of people and you kept bumping into people. It was pretty overwhelming. The whole time you were looking for Satoru as your friends went off to grab some drinks. You had never been drunk before and you didn’t want to start doing stuff like that now. Instead, you took a seat in the kitchen where it was more quiet and people would occasionally come in and out for the alcohol.
You sat at the kitchen table suddenly regretting coming to this god-awful place. You’d much rather be cozy at your dorm reading a book or watching a movie, but here you were trying to step out of your comfort zone and do something new for a change. You decided you should probably just head back to the dorms and let your friends have fun. Right before you were about to leave the kitchen a guy with long black hair, ear piercings, and sweats on entered. He dug around the fridge which indicated he probably lived there with some other roommates. You got up about to leave before he stopped you.
“Hey, why are you leaving so soon?” He asked not batting an eye and pouring beer into a cup. It caught you off guard. Why did he care if you left, he looked like the type of guy to have a bunch of girls waiting for him.
“Uh, it’s not really my scene.” You said with an awkward chuckle. He closed the fridge and turned around to face you. That's when you got a good look at his face and he was hot.
“Want some?” He said holding out the red cup of beer. You politely declined before he took a seat across from you. “So if it’s not your scene, why’d you come in the first place?” He said staring at you as he started sipping some of his beer. You didn’t want to tell him that it was because of a boy, so you told him the partial truth.
“Because my friends are here and I wanted to check out the party.” You said as you sat back down. “What about you? Why are you here?” You said returning his question.
“Just came for the drinks and a few friends as well.” He said gulping down the rest of his beer. A moment of science passed before you got up.
“Well, I’m gonna head out now.” You said before you felt a strong grip on your shoulder. It was his.
“Wait, I just wanted to know your name.” He said putting his red cup on the table. You told him your name and he told you his name was Suguru.
“Have a good night.” He said walking back to the pile of drinks for his next one. You left the kitchen and navigated through the noisy party. Right before you left you heard a familiar voice call your name behind you. It was Satoru’s. You turned around and there he was with a red solo cup in his hand.
“I didn’t know if you’d come.” He said a little out of breath likely from chasing after you. “Here follow me, it’s too loud in here.” He muttered taking your hand and leading you somewhere. It was to the backyard where a few other people were, mostly the stoners. You two Sat down on the sofa and he smiled. “I’m glad you came, it was starting to get boring around here.” He said as he offered you his drink. You declined.
“Oh, I keep forgetting to ask you, can I have your number Y/N? It’s easier to text than DM on Instagram, you know?” He asked you. You were a little surprised but you gave it to him nonetheless.
“Great, now we can keep in contact.” He said as he smiled at you for the thousandth time that day. But that smile made you feel like you had butterflies in your stomach every time. “Uh so I stopped by a manga store after school and I got this one for you. I saw it was one of your favorite series and the latest volume just dropped. I hope you don’t already have it.” He said in a somewhat shy tone of voice as he rubbed the back of his head. You found it sweet that he had found one of your interests and bought it for you.
“No, actually I haven’t gotten the new volume, thanks!” You said giving him a small hug as you took the book. He smelled good was the main thing you noticed when you hugged him. Hugging him felt nice, and comforting. It was awkward when you stopped hugging and sat on opposite sides of the sofa. You tucked your hair behind your ear. It was clear Satoru was a little drunk but nothing too bad.
“Y/N, your confession didn’t mean nothing to me,” Satoru said suddenly breaking the silence. Confession? Right, you had almost forgotten that you had poured your feelings out to him before graduation because you thought he wasn’t coming to Kyoto, but now he’s here and it’s awkward.
Your eyes widened. “Oh.” That was all you managed to say as you locked eyes with him. You quickly looked down feeling the heat rush to your face. “Yeah about that-” He cut you off.
“And I think I like you too.”
Authors note: each chapter keeps getting longer and longer:p
5.0k words
<-previous Next chapter coming soon!
Tag list: @username23345 @midnightwriter21 @seternic @azure-op @megumisthirdog @kalulakunundrum @mochi-ssu@olanii1019 @mediocre-introvert @shirabane @wolywolymoley @kalopsia-flaneur @aish777 @sapphireandange @pjmo-ri-ka-wa @prettykcals4301
Banner creds: @cafekitsune
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo fanfic#gojo satoru x reader#jjk gojo#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#divider by cafekitsune#satoru gojo#gojo x you#gojo satoru#satoru x reader
106 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 5
Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader
Description: The fifth time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — when you finally decide you've waited long enough to tell him what he means to you.
Rating: T
Word Count: 5.5k
Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word (sending directly to the rest because Tumblr isn't cooperating)
Author’s Note: Things are heating up!!! As you can tell, this chapter is a bit longer, and I can promise you, it's got a lot of good stuff in it :D By far my favorite chapter to write so far. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have, and I appreciate all your kind words and support so much!!
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A week after you’ve made an official friendship declaration with Colt Seavers, you’re back on the dim, grimy underground train station set, getting ready to watch him throw himself in front of a moving train.
At the moment, Colt is standing on the other side of the train tracks, and you’re watching him from a considerable distance across the set. You have every reason to be there — this is the set you’ve been working on day and night for the last month, after all — but you’re not the least bit worried about any of your props or decorations. All you care about is making sure Colt pulls off one of his most dangerous stunts yet.
It’s been a strange week for you. On one hand, you’re glad that Colt knows you have some feelings for him, and that your friendship has been able to carry on without becoming awkward. His sincere, unexpected apology only made your feelings stronger, but you’re trying to ignore that.
All the same, being “just friends” is the slowest, most excruciating torture you’ve ever known. For one whole week, Colt has not done a single thing that could be interpreted as overly flirtatious, just as he promised he wouldn’t so you could be spared the pain. No subtle touches, no saucy looks, no double-edged words. It’s kind of him, really.
It also hurts like a razorblade on a third-degree burn.
Still, it’s better than nothing. As long as you can have him in your life in some way, you’re satisfied to try to quell these overwhelming feelings that threaten to break free at any moment. You’re in love with him — you know that now if you never knew it before — but you just have to be content knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way. That you have to love him as you’d love a friend.
So here you are, being a supportive friend as he casts himself headfirst into a dangerous situation. This stunt involves standing in for the film’s star, Tom Ryder, whose character is supposed to be shackled to a railroad track directly in the path of a moving train, only to break free just in time. Colt’s job is to pretend to be shackled down and jump up in plenty of time to clear the path of the moving train, which is, to your great dismay, not a prop in the slightest.
As the camera crew makes their last arrangements to start filming this shot, Colt turns from fiddling with a handcuff prop to catch your eyes in the crowd that has gathered to watch. He smiles when he sees you, lifting a hand in greeting and throwing his trademark thumbs-up high above his head.
Your heart speeds up at the sight of Colt’s smile, and you wave back at him in what you hope is an encouraging manner.
“Hey, relax,” a female voice says in your ear. You turn to see Holly grinning at you as she walks back to the cameras that are already in position. “He’s done this kind of thing a million times.”
You cut your eyes at her with a smirk. “I’m not worried,” you insist.
Holly lifts both eyebrows and laughs at you, always able to read what you’re really thinking. You laugh with her, glad to feel the knot in your stomach loosening a little. Holly gives your hand a quick squeeze in encouragement before taking her place at the lead camera station.
When you look back at the set, Colt is already in position, crouched down on one knee with his hands behind his back. You know he’s not actually tied down, but even seeing the fake handcuffs almost makes you wish you hadn’t come to watch.
Elijah Gordon, the director, is shouting some instructions at the crew as they make their last-minute preparations. He’s already cued the train to start moving, as it takes nearly half a mile to get the desired speed for the shot.
“One minute, people!” Gordon bellows, situating himself on a camera dolly high enough that he can see the action below. “We’re doing this in one take, or we’re not doing it at all. Colt, remember I want it to look real!”
Colt grins up at Gordon, his face smeared with fake dirt and his teeth shining like a white band through the grime. “It is real, Gordon!”
Gordon gives a curt nod, then listens to a voice over the walkie-talkie. Though your mind is focused on watching Colt, you can’t help the creeping disdain that you always feel when it comes to Elijah Gordon. The man is a phenomenal director, but he’s also the most callous, self-centered, inconsiderate person you’ve ever known. Knowing Colt’s life is more or less in Gordon’s hands makes you feel queasy.
The train whistle pierces the echoey tunnel chamber, and Gordon lifts his megaphone to shout, “Roll cameras!”
You put both hands over your mouth, dreading having to watch the scene play out. Colt looks entirely confident where he kneels on the railroad track, but you can’t help wondering what he feels in moments like this. Does he get scared? Does he lose faith in his own abilities? Does he ever doubt that the stunt will work perfectly? Can he afford to think like that?
A second train whistle stabs your ears, and you can feel your heart beating faster than ever before. You feel like you’re the one lingering on the tracks.
You can see the train now, and your eyes flit back to Colt, whose face is mostly hidden by the bandanna tied around his forehead. His muscles are tensed, ready to spring away at the perfect second. Gordon is shouting directions, his voice barely audible above the racket of the approaching train. He holds up his hand high in the air, signaling to Colt to stay in position.
The train eats up another hundred feet. Two hundred. Three hundred. Five hundred. Gordon’s hand doesn’t budge, and Colt keeps his eyes on the director for his cue to move.
You can hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears, and it takes all your willpower not to screw your eyes shut. You keep them open as if caught in a trance, bouncing back and forth between Colt and the train as if you’re watching a tennis match.
The train rumbles closer and closer, now near enough that you can see the face of the man driving the engine. You hold your breath, waiting for Gordon to throw his hand down in a signal to Colt.
But Gordon’s hand doesn’t move. Another screeching whistle. The train is less than a hundred yards away now.
You know he should have given Colt the signal by now — you were there for the days of blocking and planning that went into this scene. Suddenly your lungs constrict as you realize Gordon is pushing Colt for a few more seconds on the tracks, long enough to make the film audiences gasp.
“Stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs, but your voice is drowned out by the roar of the train. Your feet are carrying you in a sprint before you even register your own movement. Two hundred feet away now.
“Gordon, stop it!” The director can’t hear you, but Holly does, whirling around and grabbing you by both arms to stop you from getting any closer to the set. You can see Colt’s eyes get wider as he realizes that Gordon isn’t lowering his arm.
Everything in your entire being is shuddering, wanting to shut down, wanting to scream, to explode into action, but Holly beckons for two other crew members to help hold you back. All you can do is watch as the train draws closer and Colt waits for Gordon’s signal. One hundred feet.
“Holly, make him stop!” you scream at your friend, whose distressed expression tells you you’re not alone in your confused panic.
At the last second, with the train less than fifty feet away, Gordon throws his hand down, and Colt is already in motion, somersaulting off the track and into the safety zone as the train — all forty tons of it — whizzes over the space that Colt occupied seconds ago.
Holly and her two crew members hold you back a second longer, and when the red light on the camera flickers off, you break past them and run as fast as you can onto the set. You can barely see where to step as you climb over the platform and down into the dingy, darkened train tunnel, tears blurring your vision and your pulse hammering in your ears.
Colt is leaning against the wall of the tunnel, his face as white as a ghost. Several crew members have already gathered around him, but you shove past them and throw your arms around his neck, uncaring of what anyone might think. You can feel Colt trembling in your arms even as his easygoing voice whispers in your ear, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
Once you’re satisfied that he really is alive, you pull back, framing his face in your hands and searching his eyes with what you know must be a crazed look. Colt doesn’t say anything more; the color is slowly returning to his face, and his nerves are calming down now that the adrenaline wears off. He doesn’t, however, loosen his grip on you, betraying how shaken he still is.
“Nice work, Colt,” bellows a voice from the train platform. “That was just what we needed.”
At the sound of Gordon’s voice, all you can see is red.
Setting your jaw, you turn away from Colt and stride back to the platform with more rage than you can remember feeling in your entire life. Every muscle in your body is quaking visibly, and your voice rings out loud and clear over the chaos in the set when you shout, “How dare you?”
Gordon turns from his conversation with a cameraman and gives you a nonplussed glance. When he realizes that your yell and your power walk are directed at him, he dismisses the cameraman to deal with you head-on.
“Something you want to discuss?” Gordon asks you, condescension dripping from his voice.
Behind you, you hear Colt making his way onto the platform, his calm voice assuring you, “Hey, it’s okay—”
But you’re not in the mood to be comforted. “It is not okay, Colt,” you shout, your eyes still locked on Gordon. Every eye on the set is directed at you, now that you’ve chosen to make a huge scene with Elijah Gordon himself. Colt pulls to a stop beside you, but your words are still pointed at Gordon. “How could you make him do that? How dare you make him do that?”
“There wasn’t any real risk, kid,” Gordon says flippantly. “Keep your bonnet on.”
“No real risk?” you demand. “Did we just see the same scene? Colt was trying to get off the tracks to stay alive, and you forced him to stay on longer so you could get a ‘closer call’ on camera.”
Gordon’s brows lower at that. “Again, not life-threatening,” he snaps. “If it were, Colt wouldn’t have finished the stunt, and I wouldn’t have made him do it.”
“You weren’t the one staring down the headlights of a train!”
Colt rests his hand on your elbow in an attempt to get you to calm down, but Gordon fires back at you immediately, “He’s a stuntman, my dear. In case you folks in the set decorating department don’t know what that is, it means he does stunts. Sometimes those stunts are dangerous.”
Gordon’s arrogance only inflames your anger more. “I am completely aware that his job comes with risks,” you shout. “But those risks shouldn’t come from a toffee-nosed director who thinks human life is something to play with like a deck of cards.”
You feel Colt stiffen beside you, and his grip on your arm grows firmer. “Hey, it seriously is okay,” Colt assures you. “Just drop it.”
“I’m not dropping it, Colt. If that train had been a few seconds off count, you wouldn’t be part of this conversation. You’d be in pieces on the train tracks.”
Gordon raises his hands to cut in, replacing the harshness in his voice with honey. “Listen, my dear, let’s just keep a clear picture of who you are, all right? You’re here to make the sets look good. You do that very nicely, and I appreciate it. So why don’t you keep your little toffee-nosed opinions off the set where the actual movies are being made, okay?”
You feel a shift in Colt’s body language again, but this time, it’s directed towards Gordon. You stand your ground, shooting a steely-eyed stare at the director that would make any action star proud.
“I bet your producers wouldn’t appreciate hearing that you risked the life of their top stuntman,” you tell him softly.
Gordon laughs out loud at that, as do a few of the crew members standing around him. “Listen, sweetheart, the producers pay me to make their movies look good,” he informs you. His voice changes then, affecting a curious, offended tone. “Aren’t you the one who’s been on a little crusade lately about doing everything with practical effects? You want to change your stance and say I should do all the stunts in VFX? Your boyfriend will be out of a job if I do that.”
A few more crew members laugh, trying to reduce some of the tension that is radiating between you. You know you’re the only person who’s freaking out about Colt’s close call — it’s not like he hasn’t done this sort of thing before — but you can’t help feeling like this is important.
“You absolute scumbag,” you hiss at Gordon. “You seriously are going to play this off like it’s just part of the process? Colt almost died—”
Holly comes up on your other side now, setting a calming hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, just—”
“I bet your producers would have loved to hear about that—”
“You need to calm down—” Holly says more firmly.
“And don’t you dare try to throw my own words at me like I’ve supported you risking people’s lives for a cool shot—”
Colt’s voice now. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”
“It is a big deal!” you explode, your voice echoing through the train station. “I mean, am I seriously the only one who sees any value in your life?”
Your comment is heavy, and everyone seems to feel the weight of it. Gordon hesitates, his eyes flicking back and forth between you, Colt, and Holly as if to make sure he’s not about to be physically attacked. The usual buzz of the crew is dead silent.
Finally, Gordon clears his throat and says dismissively, “If you’ve got a problem with me, kid, talk to the studio and see if they care. I can promise you they won’t.” He takes one step closer to you, and in a lower voice adds, “And in the meantime, keep your mouth shut about my processes. You’re good at your job, and I’d hate for you to have to get kicked off set just because you can’t keep your personal life separate from your professional one.”
With that, Gordon whirls around and walks back to the cameras to review the shot.
You’re still trembling with anger, your voice drying up in your throat as you realize that everyone in the crowd is still staring at you. You’re not ashamed of what you said, but you’re embarrassed that everyone on set had to witness it.
Ducking your head, you pull away from Colt and Holly and start walking out of the train station set. Only when the warm afternoon air hits your face do you realize tears have been streaming down your cheeks.
Colt is just a few steps behind you, and you look at him wordlessly, trying to read his expression. There’s not a trace of anger or confusion in his eyes — just a deep gratitude and affection. He slings his arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the set.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
The irony of that question isn’t lost on you. “This isn’t about me, Colt,” you state bluntly. You raise questioning eyes to him. “Does it really not bother you that he jeopardized you? Completely unnecessarily?”
Colt shrugs, his brow furrowing as he thinks. He seems so calm now, no traces of the panicky fear he couldn’t hide immediately after the stunt. “If I felt like it was unsafe,” he says carefully, “I would have jumped off the track no matter what he said.”
Another second, and it would have been too late.
“I know,” you acknowledge, a hint of emotion creeping into your voice. “I just… I don’t know. Just… seeing everyone act like it’s so casual and not important. Like your life doesn’t even make that much of a difference—”
“Hey,” Colt murmurs, stopping and turning you to face him so he can put both hands on your shoulders. “You are reading way too far into this, Picasso. No one is trying to eradicate my existence here.”
His tone is light and his eyes twinkling, and you know he’s trying to get you to laugh this off. But you just can’t.
“I know,” you whisper. “I just hate that it seems like I’m the only one who cares if you live or die. Including you.”
Your last statement makes Colt pause. You see the hesitation in his eyes as he mulls over what you’re implying. “Not true,” he replies at last, pulling you back under one arm as you resume walking towards the tents that have been set up for the crew.
“Really? Because you act like you don’t care.” Your voice holds no edge, no accusation. “You get more and more reckless with every stunt, and it just… it kills me to watch.”
You know you’re saying too much. You know you’re pushing the “just friends” agreement. But you can’t stop.
Colt takes his time responding to that. Suddenly, he seems to be really listening to the hidden meanings in your words, realizing that your outburst toward Gordon was indicative of something a lot deeper, something that you’re trying to communicate to him now. You can feel his steady heartbeat against your side, the gentle pressure of his hand on your shoulder. His steps are perfectly synchronized with yours.
“Look, I don’t have a death wish,” Colt explains at last, a serious note in his voice. “This is my job; I love the danger that comes with it. It’s like I said, both of us do our jobs because it’s our passion, no matter the risks.”
You shake your head. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was mad at you.”
Colt genuinely chuckles at that. “Believe me, it was obvious who you were mad at.”
“I guess I overdid it, huh?” You can feel some of the intense anger in your chest melting, and you let yourself release a slight laugh as you realize just what a spectacle you made: screaming at one of the world’s top directors on his own set.
“Maybe a little,” Colt confirms kindly. Once the two of you step inside one of the empty tents, he lifts his arm off your shoulders, and you turn to lean back against one of the wooden tables so you can face him. His face is still smeared with grime, and it suddenly reminds you of the moment you shared a few weeks ago, marking each other’s faces with your oil paints.
“I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it,” you concede, letting your gaze fall to the ground. “I just… felt like it needed to be said after literally everyone on set witnessed it.”
Colt nods, smirking at you and crossing his arms to lean against one of the structure beams. “Hey, I appreciated it,” he says with a wink. “No one’s ever challenged a director to demand safer working conditions for me.”
“Maybe it’s about time,” you shoot back, your heart speeding up.
“Maybe.”
The moment falls quiet. The tent is empty besides the two of you, and all you can hear is the sound of each other’s breathing and the gentle rustling of the wind against the flaps of the tent. Colt tilts his head back against the beam he’s leaning on, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. You can tell that this stunt took a toll on him, even if he’s not showing it.
Without warning, all the feelings you’ve been hiding for the last few months threaten to spill out of your lips. Maybe it was seeing him so close to death; maybe it was your impassioned rant; maybe it’s just what happens when you love someone with the desperation of a drowning person reaching for air.
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt out, “I really do care about you, you know.”
Colt doesn’t open his eyes or lift his head back up. “Well, if I didn’t, I certainly do now.”
His tone is humorous, but you’re not letting it go now that you’re committed. It’s now or never. “No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I know we’re just doing the friendship thing, but either way, I really care about you.” Colt lifts his head to fix his eyes on you, and you choose your next words carefully so he won’t misunderstand your meaning. “If you ever think that no one cares if you survive the stunts or not, I hope you know it’s not true. There’s one person in the world who would probably go insane without you around.”
Colt doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t sound completely serious either when he responds, “Ah, you’d be fine.”
“Please tell me you don’t honestly think that.”
“Look, Picasso, I’m just one guy in the world,” Colt reminds you, shaking his head as if he’s explaining something very simple. “You’re going to meet thousands in your career, which I know is going to be super long and super star-studded. You’ve got everything in your life to look forward to.”
You frown at him, caught off guard by his seemingly off-topic response. “Colt, what are you even talking about?”
He swallows hard, looking off to the side and trying to disguise the emotion tinging his voice. “I’m just… trying to tell you not to put so many big expectations on me. I’m the kind of guy who can only let you down.”
Your heart plummets at his words, and suddenly everything falls into place in your mind. He does care. He’s always cared. He just won’t show it because he thinks he isn’t good enough. The most wonderful man in the world thinks he isn’t good enough.
“That is not true,” you declare, standing up straight for emphasis. “You’re the kindest person I know, and the smartest, and the bravest, and the funniest—”
“I think you’re confusing me with Keanu Reeves.”
“I’m not joking around, Colt. When I’m with you, I can just be myself, and I know you’re going to be there for me. You’ve seen me at my worst, but you act like you only remember me at my best. I know it sounds crazy, but I keep getting this feeling that everything in my life has led up to meeting you. Everything you do means so much to me. Every word you say, every minute we spend together is so, so precious to me. You are so precious to me.”
Your speech seems to stun Colt senseless. You have no idea where all that came from — you just knew that you wouldn’t be able to breathe until you had told him what you were feeling. Colt stands still as he processes your words, and you don’t regret a single one.
“Wow,” he finally whispers. “I have no follow-up for that.”
You shake your head, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t need one,” you tell him. “I just… felt like I should say it.”
Colt mulls over your words again. You wonder if anyone has ever talked to him like this, if you’re really the first one who has ever looked at him like he hung the moon in the sky. How could I be? How is it possible that no one else has ever recognized you for the treasure that you are?
“It means a lot,” Colt replies softly. “Seriously, you… you have no idea. Thank you.”
You just nod in response, not sure where to go from here. Colt isn’t acting like himself, overcome by some emotion that you’re not sure of. You don’t know whether to reiterate your statements, or to wait for him to say something, or to just stand in silence together for awhile.
Colt finally breaks the silence. “You sure you’re okay?”
You almost laugh at that, some of the tension sliding out of the atmosphere. “Yeah,” you assure him with a smile. “As long as you are.”
He nods at you, his own smile returning in a quiet sort of way. You’re transfixed by the gentle light reflecting in his eyes, the relaxed slope of his shoulders, when he holds out both arms to you, lifting an eyebrow as an invitation.
You don’t hesitate for a second. Why should you, after you just confessed every secret thought in your heart?
You step into the warm circle of his arms, and he immediately lowers his forehead to rest in the curve of your neck. Colt seems so unsure of himself in this moment, in a way that you’ve never known him to be. He’s trembling slightly again the way he was after he had just leaped off the railroad tracks. You grip your arms around his neck even tighter, and Colt wraps his arms around you so tightly you can barely breathe.
In that moment, you know your assumption was correct. He does care about you as deeply as you do about him. You can feel it in his embrace, in his very heartbeat. Every time you move to pull him closer, he mirrors your movements, closing every inch of space that has ever separated you. The grimy film makeup on his face rubs off on your neck, but it’s the sweetest touch you ever felt.
Colt catches you off guard when he tilts his head just slightly to the side, just enough that his lips are resting on the side of your neck. His manner isn’t seductive or suggestive: it’s as if he’s just breathing you in, trying to memorize the feel of you in his arms. Your sensitive skin prickles at the sensation, and one of your hands finds its way up to thread in the ragged-cut hair at the base of his neck.
You can feel his impressive strength just by the way he holds you, but you can’t help marveling at the gentleness of his hands when he reaches up to stroke the back of your head, once, twice. When he cradles the base of your neck with all the tenderness of an old lover, your stomach twists itself into a knot. He’s killing you. It’s magnificent.
Colt finally lifts his head from your shoulder, his hand still resting at the back of your head. His thumb moves in lazy circles, as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and his eyes drag up your face slowly until they meet your own in a gaze that burns hotter than a supernova.
“I’ve never told you,” you whisper, your breath filling the few inches between your faces, “and I know I probably shouldn’t, but I’m in love with you.”
The words are hardly out of your mouth when Colt squeezes his eyes closed, a look of pain crossing his face. “Don’t. It’s not worth it,” he whispers back.
“It’s too late for that,” you tell him, tears choking your voice. “You don’t have to feel the same way. I just needed you to know.”
Colt doesn’t open his eyes, just shakes his head. “You don’t want to be in love with me,” he says softly, heartbreakingly. “My destination is a dead-end, and you deserve better than that.”
“Colt, I—”
“It’s better if we don’t go this route,” he tells you, opening his eyes so you can read the seriousness in his words. “You’ve got the most amazing future ahead of you. You’re going to be a lot better off without me dragging you down.”
Your heart constricts at his words. “Don’t you dare try to be noble about this,” you murmur, lifting your hands to frame his face. “You could never drag me down, and I couldn’t care less about what you think I ‘deserve.’ All I care about is you. All I want to do is love you, no matter what happens. If you really don’t feel that way about me, just say so. But if you feel as strongly for me as I do for you, please tell me. Please don’t break this off before we have a chance to even try it.”
The look that wells up in Colt’s eyes speaks to you in a language you’ve never understood before. His eyes roam your face, as if he’s searching for some hint that your words aren’t true, some way he can talk you out of your feelings. Realization dawns in his eyes as he reads the message you’re saying in everything but your words. I love you. I’ve loved you this whole time. You will always be enough for me. My heart is so full of you it barely even feels like it’s mine anymore.
He doesn’t kiss you — the distance between your lips and his feels like an interminable distance — but he lowers his face to yours in a way that is so tender, so intimate that all the breath leaves your body at once. He lets his cheek rest against yours, his beard brushing your skin softly, gently. You let your arms wrap around his neck again to pull him closer, nuzzling the side of his face with yours so he feels your meaning: I don’t ever want to let you go.
When his lips brush against your jaw, right below your ear, you can’t suppress your sharp intake of breath. You feel his hands resting on your waist, pulling you close against him, and you can hear his breath coming raggedly. He’s so different when he’s like this — no false confidence, no alleviating jokes, just the passion he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.
You slide your fingers into his hair, and you can feel him react to your touch instantly. He raises his face from where he’s been resting it against yours, savoring in the contact every slow inch he moves. His eyes are closed when he brings his face level with yours again, his breath ghosting over your lips in a way that is so effortlessly tantalizing. It takes all your strength not to tip your head back and drown in his kiss.
With his hand still resting on the back of your neck, Colt pulls you in close one more time, letting his forehead touch yours gently. You close your eyes, breathing in the scent that envelops him — pine needles, cinnamon, and something salty. One moment more, just enough to savor how it feels to be wrapped up in the very essence of him, and Colt pulls back, releasing you from his hold.
“I just can’t do it to you, Picasso,” Colt says, his voice hoarse and strained. “I’m sorry.”
Your heart plummets at his words. It wasn’t enough. All of it wasn’t enough to convince him of your love. Your words are the opposite of what you want to say, but you know there can be no other response. “If that’s what you want,” you answer quietly. “I’ll respect it.”
“I know.”
You take a few steps back, trying to ignore the agony that is so obvious is his voice. Colt still looks like he wants to snatch you back into his arms and beg you to repeat the confession you just laid at his feet, but he doesn’t. He’s too strong, too stubborn, too sure he’s truly doing the right thing by letting you go. You don’t try to talk him out of it. You love him too much to try to change his mind.
You take a deep, steadying breath. “You take care of yourself,” you murmur with a sad smile. “I mean it.”
“I will.” Colt doesn’t even attempt a smile back, the ache in his heart obvious on his face. His gaze wanders over your face for a moment longer, and then he turns and ducks out of the tent.
Once he’s gone, all you can do is bury your face in your hands and weep.
#GUYS IT'S MY FAVORITE ONE YET#i let out so many silent screams while writing this#i hope you can tell how much i adore writing these#fanfiction#colt seavers x reader#colt seavers fanfiction#original#colt seavers#the fall guy#ryan gosling#ryan gosling fanfiction#the five times colt seavers almost kisses you (and the one time he does)
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
Writing Challenge!
Hello, everyone! As I mentioned a few days ago, I am hosting another writing challenge! I loved reading what everyone came up with in the last challenge I hosted, so I’m excited to see more cool stories this time around!
What is the challenge?
The premise for this challenge is fairytales! In this challenge I will assign everyone who decides to participate two fairytales! You then must write your own adaptation that combines the two stories together. This can be done anyway you like—for example you can keep it in its original setting, tell it in a fairytale style, modernize it, change its genre, swap character roles, etc.—but the fairytales must be at least somewhat recognizable
Is there a deadline?
To make this more of a challenge, there will of course be a deadline! That deadline is July 1st, giving you until the end of the month to write your story! Because this challenge is individual, there’s nothing wrong with going over the deadline; meeting it on time will just give you a sense of accomplishment. It will also just be fun to flood the feeds with fairytales that day!
How do I join and is there a time limit for joining?
If you would like to join the challenge, send me a message, and I will start sending out fairytale combos (which I will choose through a randomizer) sometime in the morning of June 11th (Mountain Standard Time).
The individualness of this challenge also means that anyone can join at any time throughout the challenge, just know that you will still have the same deadline as everyone else.
Does this challenge have any conditions?
This challenge is open to anyone who wants to join whether this is your first time writing or you’re an established writblr.
There is also no specific word-count requirement for this challenge. It can be as short or as long as you like as long as you get your fairytales across.
I’m also not going to restrict what people choose to write, just make sure if you write something with themes that could cause someone discomfort that you tag it appropriately, that way everyone knows which stories they feel comfortable reading.
Other Details
In order to make finding everyone’s stories easier, when you post your story on July 1st, use the tag #ficsandfables. That way, even if you aren’t being followed by all the participants, everyone can find your story.
Also, feel free to reach out to me if you have any issues with the fairytales you are assigned. If for some reason you just really aren’t vibing with your given fairytales, we can see about switching them out. But please only do this if you are really struggling, not just because you have a preference, part of the fun of the challenge is writing an adaptation you might not have thought of doing otherwise.
You may choose for yourself whether you want to keep your fairytale combo a surprise or not. If you don’t mind people knowing ahead of the deadline, feel free to brainstorm with others if you need to!
Most importantly have fun with this!
P.S. Because I don’t know how many participants we will end up with, and there are a limited number of fairytales (at least immediately recognizable ones) some people will probably end up with one of the same fairytales as another, but I will try to avoid anyone getting the exact same combo.
#creative writing#writing challenge#writeblr#writblr#writers of tumblr#fiction#sci-fi#fantasy#hero x villain#fairytale#fairytales#fairytale adaptations#adaptation#writing prompt#prompt#short prompt#short story
48 notes
·
View notes
Note
I've got young kids, work full time, went back to school to get my degree and my spouse is also in a degree program. Finding the time to write feels impossible. There's no way I can write daily.
I feel like maybe my dream to be an author is out of reach. When should you really ask yourself if you truly want to be an author? Forget an author.. do you really want to be a writer?
Author Dream Feels Out of Reach
You've come to the right place. ♥
First, I want to tell you that what you're feeling right now is totally normal. So, so many of us go through it. I promise you're in good company.
Second, I submit that this isn't really about whether or not you want to be a writer/author. You wouldn't be here if some part of you didn't want to be a writer/author... you wouldn't be reaching for a dream you didn't have...
Third, I further submit that rather than questioning your intentions, you may just need to consider what you want to get out of writing, what your goals would be as an author, and then create realistic goals to help you get there. That's where I come in...
1 - I'm here to tell you that you don't have to write every day. I spent a long, long, embarrassingly long time parroting back the traditional "advice" that one must write every single day in order to be a successful writer and reach your author dreams. Head, meet desk! In the intervening years, I've learned that writing every day simply isn't realistic for the vast majority of people. Why? Because we're not all independently wealthy bachelors who retired in our 40s, who spend our days fishing and our evenings partying with our eccentric creative friends, and then burning the midnight oil on our latest manuscript while we sip brandy and puff on a fine cigar. If only! (minus the cigar part... yuck...) Instead, we're members of family units, friend groups, and communities. We're parents and grandparents and guardians and caregivers. We're students, we have jobs and roles and responsibilities. We're anxious, tired, and stretched so unbelievably thin. The world is falling down around us. And it's... a lot...
2 - But... that's why we write... ALL OF THAT, I say, gesturing broadly at everything, is why we write. We write to tell the stories of the eccentric brandy-sipping writers, the stressed-out-stretched-thin-parents, the overworked-and-underpaid teachers, the exhausted caregivers who feel their dreams slipping between their fingers, and still hopeful dreamers who cling to the stars with the dust of the crumbling world in their eyes. We write to tell their stories, and we write to give them stories. We write because the world needs our stories. ALL of them. The good, the bad, the clean, the spicy, the angsty, the swoony, the cringey, the comforting, the excessively long, the absurdly short, the plainly written, the purple prosey... all of it matters. All of it serves a purpose.
3 - So, why did you start writing in the first place? You don't have to answer this for me, just for yourself... many of us would answer by saying things like, "because I have story ideas that demand to be written," or "because it's something I do for fun and escape, it's self-care," or "because I love to explore human stories." Getting to the heart of why you write, outside of any goals or future plans, can help ground you in the storm.
4 - What are your author goals? Now, if time, energy, and other considerations were no object... if you could spend as much time writing as you wanted and there were no obstacles to any author goal you had, and no limit to achieving your dreams, what would your author goals be? Do you want to share your stories on Wattpad or a similar platform? If so, do you have any goals related to views/reads/comments, and how often you hope to post a new story? If you want to pursue traditional publishing, are you happy being reasonably popular within your niche, or do you want to be a big time best-seller with your books made into movies? If you want to be an indie author, is there a certain number of books you want to get out each year? Is there a certain number of sales you want to hit for each book? A certain income level you want to aim for? Figuring out exactly what your goals are is important if you want to map a reasonable path toward getting there.
5 - What's a reasonable path to get there? Imagine "reasonable" lit up with lights here, because it's so, so important. Really, the biggest reason writers get overwhelmed and give up is because we have unreasonable expectations and are trying to meet arbitrary goals that sound great, but are just not possible to meet.
If you can only muster maybe three hours to write on a good week, and you can write 26 words a minute on a good writing session, if your goal is to write 10,000 words per week, guess what... that's more than TWICE the number of words it's even possible for you to write in a good week, so you're going to fall far, far short most weeks. It's an unrealistic goal.
If you're averaging roughly 11,000 words per month and your goal is to write a novel in six months and have it revised, edited, and published (or revised, edited, and sent off with queries), guess what... your manuscript is sitting at 66,000 words at the six month mark without a single second for revision, editing, or anything else. Once again, it's an unrealistic goal.
One of the best ways to figure out a realistic goal is to take an honest look at your schedule. My favorite way to do this is by the month, using a calendar I can write on. Now, I'll go through and cross out all the days I know I won't be able to write... like, maybe I never write on Sundays because they're too busy, so I cross those off. Maybe I'm going on vacation for four days mid-month, and I know I won't write the day before or after, so I cross those six days off, too. My days tend to fall apart if I have an appointment or other unusual event, so I will usually block off those days as well. Finally, I know I will probably lose at least three days a month to not feeling well or having to attend to a family member who isn't feeling well, and another three days to run-of-the-mill nonsense, so I'll cross off the last six days in the calendar. What I'm left with is a reasonable estimate for the number of days I'll be able to write that month.
Now, let's say I'm left with 17 potential writing days. And let's say I'm fairly certain I'll be able to commit about twenty to thirty minutes to writing on each of those days. And... let's say I know I generally write about 26 words per minute during the average writing session. Twenty minutes across 17 days is 340 total minutes, times 26 wpm, nets me about 8,840 words for the month... and that's not frickin' bad! In fact, at that rate you could potentially have a first draft done in six to eight months! And that's in just twenty minutes a day three or four times a week.
It isn't about time spent, it's about setting reasonable goals.
If you create reasonable goals that you can actually meet, you start building forward momentum. You're not exhausted from fighting with your schedule and failing to squeeze writing in on days when it isn't possible. You're not beaten down from disappointing yourself over and over again. You're actually getting somewhere, and you're excited about it!
So, that's it. Before you get all philosophical about whether or not you really want to be an author or want to be a writer... before you start tossing your dreams out the window or feeling like your dreams are out of reach, try this. Be realistic. Be patient with yourself. Take support where you can get it. And don't be afraid to fiercely guard whatever writing time you do have.
I'm here for support, and there a million wonderful writing communities out there filled with other supportive writers if you have some time to look for them and spend some time getting to know them.
All the best! You've got this... TRULY! ♥
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!
♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted!
♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking
♦ Learn more about WQA here
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sorry to be a hater- look away if you must- but I just have to vent once again about how much I hate that stupid "Rory Gilmore learns about sexting to spice up her lagging long-distance relationship!" storyline in Season 7. 🙄 Like, FIRST OF ALL, I'm supposed to believe that Rory Gilmore, who was reading (and recommending!) Ginsberg at the age of 16, is somehow shocked and scandalized and uncomfortable with the idea of reading or writing about sex?? That whole babyish, fluttery, "Oh, I couldn't possibly!" personality transplant she undergoes in that season really throws me off! But ALSO, like... Rory and Logan have only been apart for like THREE EPISODES? By this point? And she's already feeling like their relationship is going to fall apart without sexual intimacy? Like, honey, the point I'm getting from this is not "long distance relationships are hard!" It's "this relationship seems to be based on nothing but sex." And if you're already running out of things to say because you're not in the same room anymore? Yikes. "But long distance relationships are hard!" Yeah! I KNOW. Want to know HOW I know? Because by the time we got married, my Husband and I did the math and figured out that from the beginning of our relationship to our wedding day we'd spent more time APART than TOGETHER. The longest stretch of time where we were on opposite sides of the earth and didn't see each other at all was ten months. And yes! It was hard! But we never felt like we were running out of things to SAY to each other or had no emotional intimacy! How am I supposed to think this Rory/Logan storyline is "romantic" when my own memories involve writing handwritten letters that were pages and pages long, and long emails on top of that? Sensual poetry that ached with so much longing that it made my breath catch in my throat when I read it? Do you know how it feels to talk on the phone for hours and hours until your arm gets tired from holding the phone up and you have to keep switching it from side to side because your ear is getting that horrible warm and sweaty feeling from the plastic being pressed against it for so long, and you STILL don't want to say goodbye because it's never enough? Anyway, I can't get into this storyline. It feels shallow and cheap and boring to me! Like, is this it? And maybe part of the reason my soul recoils from the idea of Rory ending up with Logan is that it's just so DISAPPOINTING! Like, that's it? That's the "great love" she gets? I love Rory and she has such a lively, eager mind! And it just makes me sad to think of her ending up with some guy she doesn't even have anything to talk about with after the thrill of sex has faded. 😕 Boring, boring, boring!
#Gilmore Girls#Anti Rogan#Sorry it's not personal!#They just do not move me at all!#And it's not like it's his FAULT or anything#It's just the RELATIONSHIP!#It's like it's all just physical attraction and cheap (expensive? 😅) thrills and then there's just NOTHING THERE on the inside#It's just hollow!
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
i just binge-played off over the course of a couple days so let's relate that back to homestuck now
exactly what the title says. WARNING for spoilers of off, undertale, & omori (and homestuck. obviously), all fairly minor but involving some of talk about endings, as well as warning for canon-typical suicide talk (distri moment)
TLDR: off & undertale both use meta elements in a neat way, especially for their more horrific/fucked up parts, ult. dirk is definitely being puppetted by something (lord english, it's lord english).
so just as the title says, i've recently spent the last few days playing through the game off (also yume nikki but i haven't found a homestuck connection there so i guess you all will have to wait for that essay), and after poking around a bit for other interpretations of the themes & story i stumbled across this video that's given me some ideas about the post-canon content again, since i apparently can't stop relating everything back to that. specifically, the conclusion that he comes to near the end about the "real" story of off being a kind of parody of other rpgs where you mindlessly follow a protagonist's divine mission while actually just brutally exterminating/destroying an entire world of beings reminded me a lot of a criticism i heard of the epilogues that said it felt like the creators just watched the hbomberguy undertale video and decided to do that, but badly.
i talked about this a bit in my last essay about the post-canon stuff (don't be surprised if you missed that one btw, i got nervous and buried it under a mountain of reblogs ;v;), but one of the things that really fucking gets my goat about the epilogues & hs^2 is the fact that the creators both 1. talk down to the audience so goddamn much, and 2. are actively antagonistic to the audience, in a way that even homestuck proper never really felt, which, just to say, is also weird as hell to me because homestuck wasn't exactly nice to its audience either?? there has always been this back and forth between audience & creator in this fandom that is a prominent underlying dynamic in both the story itself & responding fanworks (a notable example being theater of coolty, which i personally interpret to be more of a character study of hussie rather than dirk), but even ignoring the history of twitter battles & literal petitions to get creators off the team, post-canon homestuck wants to make you fucking hurt and it refuses to be subtle about that fact.
anyways, here's a couple sections working through my thoughts on all that into something slightly more coherent.
1. off & purification (ft. undertale, omori, & yume nikki)
one of the things that really stood out to me throughout my playthrough of off these last couple days is the ways in which "purification," as a concept is associated with the mission of the batter, and, more broadly, all of the heavily religious connotations associated with his extermination of/destruction of the world.
a cool feature of the games that i've been playing recently (e.g. off & yume nikki) is seeing retroactively how they influenced other wildly popular games that i've played before that came out after (namely, undertale & omori). in particular, this more recent generation seems to take huge inspiration from the previous specifically in some of their most fucked up/horror-related elements, largely through the use of similar imagery/ideas that are then incorporated into the context of a new, clearer storyline. a good example of this is how black space in omori takes a lot from the imagery/mechanics of yume nikki (sleeping, doors, fucked up rooms with weird floors, etc.) but re-contextualizes it within the storyline of sunny's trauma/mental state as presented through the earlier sections of the game.
undertale does this too, taking both from yume nikki and, for what i'm focusing on here, off. from what i can tell, undertale seems to have taken a lot of inspiration from off in the creation of both its genocide route and the more meta elements of the game in general, which is interesting to me specifically in the interpretation of off it gives back retrospectively.
if you haven't watched it (though you really should it's only like ten minutes long) the key point that the hbomberguy video about undertale revolves around is the idea that at some point the game actively wants you to stop playing it and let the story & characters go. this is most obvious throughout the genocide route where characters in the game repeatedly & explicitly tell the player to give up, go back, and leave them the fuck alone, but notably also at the end of a true pacifist run where upon reopening up the game flowey pops up to tell the player to leave everyone be & let them enjoy their happy ending.
the divine quest of purification that the batter goes on throughout off (as is implied through his own words) is a lot less overt about the fact that its just murder & destruction but that element is definitely there, especially when revisiting the zones post-purification. the batter, bluntly speaking, gives no shits about the fact that he destroying everything in his path, even when enemies start switching from ghostly specters to "burned" people (or coughing children). if anything, destruction of the world is his outright goal as evidenced by the ending w/ the titular flipping of the switch "off," and he seems more surprised to come across people that claim to be happy when running through the area of cannibalism sugar drugs in zone 3 than all of the typical misery elsewhere. the repeated use of the word "purification," & heavy religious symbolism found throughout the game give this path of destruction a very different connotation to undertale's genocide route, however.
this ties into the use of meta elements in both games, which are also quite different: where undertale explicitly appeals to the player in quite a few instances when it's trying to get players to stop playing/taunting them about saves & whatnot, off only breaks the fourth wall in a few notable places, primarily through the judge & batter's dialogue at the start & end of the game as well as the character zacharie, all of whom directly refer to the player as a separate entity in control of the batter, slightly different to how undertale distinguishes the player character both as frisk vs. chara but also as powerful player/human vs. npc/monster* (since flowey is also equated w/ the player through his ability to utilize saves).
*deltarune also hammers this shit in even more w/ the opening character creation sequence & the fact that you have to enter two names, for creation & creator.
so- how does all of this relate to homestuck's post-canon? one word: puppets. (and dirk. it's always dirk)
2. homestuck^2 hates you & wants you to know it (dirk & puppets)
the epilogues begin with a nightmare wherein john watches the entirety of paradox space, reality as he knows it, begin to fall into a crack in the void. the meaning of this dream is made very clear over the course of a conversation with rose soon after: the story is in danger of becoming "non-canon," after too many years without an official continuation, and if john wants to stop that from happening he's going to have to make a big decision. meat or candy: either john directly tries to deal with the leftover major plotholes of the original story, enacting the previously foreseen events of the masterpiece in order to stop lord english, or he can choose to stay on earth-c and continue with the rest of his life as is.
one thing that only gets more and more overt the more i read through the post-canon content, whether that be the actual material released or authors notes from the patreon archive, is the fact that these two timelines were built from the start to be nightmares of slightly different flavors. i've talked about this many times, and there's honestly so many things pointing to this that i think it'd be more helpful if i just wrote it out as an actual list by this point, so here you fuckin go:
calliope compares the decision between meat & candy to a coin flip, invoking the image of terezi's coin flip that led to the killing of vriska & thus the game over timeline (HS^2:406)
in the smut drawing conversation, caliborn strikes down the idea of a dirkjake drawing specifically because the colors green & orange invoke the image of pumpkins which he doesn't like, instead preferring meat & candy (A6A3:4971), thus tying the epilogues to the whims of homestuck's biggest endgame villain
another connection to caliborn: despite having 43 & 40 chapters for meat & candy respectively, each route of the epilogues is split into 8 sections, reflecting the fact that LE gets 8-ball eyes midway through act 7
meat & candy also reflect the kind of content that caliborn (as a stand-in for the kinds of annoying fanboys hussie hates) loves, w/ brutal violence, death, & a power-struggle involving alt. calliope in the meat route, and the horrors of heterosexual marriage & reproduction in candy
ult. dirk in particular seems to take a lot of influence from the more LE/caliborn-connected splinters of himself- the fact that there seems to be more of a focus on dirk & jake's relationship in particular in the post-canon content also points to more of caliborn's underlying influence since they're very connected to him (both thematically through their struggles w/ masculinity & their literal connections in the lore as the boys that caliborn is the closest to as he literally looks up to them as inspiration e.g. LE's outfit matching jake's, etc. etc.)
also when it comes to narrators, note that in meat the fight is between ult. dirk & alt. calliope for control over the story while in candy (as the archived patreon commentary notes very pointedly) it is unclear who the narrator actually is
the routes are also just. fucking bad, to an extreme that is both phrased initially like a joke through the numerous ao3 tags & very carefully, thoroughly executed. we begin with a timeskip and every character is just spontaneously the absolute worst version of themself w/ quite minimal explanation as to how they got that way other than "adulthood is just Like That". even ignoring Absolute Horrors like the dirk suicide chapter & the gamzee/jane breast milk thing, you don't tag and execute the concept of gerrymandering for no reason
anyway, there are two main ways that this connects to the undertale genocide/off discussion from before: meta elements & nightmarish world destruction. but first, speaking of meta elements:
2.1 the post-canon creators don't understand the concept of what "canon" means and they ain't gonna let us forget that
homestuck is really fucking good at making up the weirdest shit imaginable but presenting it in such a natural, meticulously careful way that by the time you're saying sentences like, "He took the hammer which had been captchalogued into his sylladex and made it his strife specibus," you barely even realize you're doing it. the singular exception to this is the use of the word "post-canon" in all content created after the run of the original comic, which fails so incredibly to establish itself as a new term that it's honestly kind of embarrassing. every single time i have to write the term "post-canon" in relation to homestuck i cringe a little bit inside at just how unnatural it feels and frustrating it is to type. imo there are a few distinct reasons why the attempt to call the epilogues/homestuck^2 post-canon fails so badly:
"canon" as a term already has a very strongly established practical use within fandom: namely, to distinguish between original ("canon") works & fan-made creations like fanfiction, fan art, etc. this is to the point that an alternative, related term, "fanon," is also used to distinguish creations on the other side of the line.
the use of "canon" in fandom is thus typically quite intuitive, in that a creation is either "official," (created by the same person & set within the same universe, created by a person closely related to the original creator & clearly established to be connected to the original work, etc.) or not. there is no in-between of canon vs. fanon, it is simply a clear line distinguishing between what is considered official and what isn't.
in the cases where it isn't necessarily as clear if something is canonical, whether that be due to the work being done by a different creator, long after the work is over, etc. (e.g. the yume nikki comic, jk rowling's dumb baseless twitter ramblings, etc.) the word "canon" is often dropped entirely with the context of the new works instead being invoked to clarify the distinction
people tend to only feel the need to distinguish between the original/"canonical" run of a story & its new content/additions when they fucking hate the new additions. nobody says that deltarune is not canonical just because it doesn't connect to the original undertale universe, they just say its in a different universe & take note of the implications. on the other side of things, even ignoring rowling's stupid ass tweets, people have been ignoring the epilogue to the final book of harry potter for ages simply because it sucks & many people hate the kind of future it presents
"post-canon" does not make any goddamn sense. no amount of ao3 formatting or desperate pleas from the creators can take away from the fact that the epilogues & hs^2 show up on the official website, were in part outlined by the original creator, & pick up the story right from where the comic ends. i can turn around in my seat right this second & look to my right to see a shelf where the words "THE HOMESTUCK EPILOGUES" is printed twice on the spine of the official goddamn book (don't ask why i bought that thing. i was in a distraught mental state in 2019 okay) printed by viz fucking media, come the fuck on you guys.
this is all to say that the meta elements of the epilogues & hs^2 (okay i'm gonna start saying post-canon again but remember. remember) is pretty fucking weird to begin with, and that's not even accounting for the direct antagonism that the continuations take when addressing the audience.
a key quality of the epilogues that make them come across as particularly nightmarish comes from the fact that so many aspects seem to be specifically designed to hurt the audience as much as physically possible. characters like jane & dirk fall into villainy and become the worst versions of themselves and more with very little regard for the reasons why they might've been sympathetic originally. even outside of those two obvious examples, there are a lot of elements that seem to only exist to make the audience hurt. the most overtly edgy example of this is the chapter in candy where dirk very graphically commits suicide (which comes entirely out of nowhere with basically no warning- the trigger warning wasn't added until later), but there are a shitton of minor examples that slowly build up to make even just reading through the epilogues an agonizing experience if you ever bothered to care about any of the characters involved. imo even characters like dave, karkat, & vriska, all of whom are generally considered to have gotten through alright by the greater fandom, suffer when it comes to characterization, dave & karkat from how much it feels like they've backtracked on character development when it comes to self awareness, and vriska because the creators are frankly unable to face any of the major character flaws that made her actually interesting, instead preferring to depict her as this tired hero above everyone else come back to earth to save everyone from the horrific versions of themselves the authors twisted them into to create plot.
what really stands out throughout all of this though, and is the reason why that connection between the epilogues & the hbomberguy undertale video was originally made, is the fact that the epilogues contextualize all of this suffering as a punishment for the audience wanting more out of the story- a point which especially stands out since, as far as i can remember, end of comic homestuck fans really didn't give that much of a shit about a continuation? while the response to act 7 & homestuck's ending was fairly disappointed, and there was some talk about a continuation after it got teased by some elevated fans with a closer connection to hussie, the consensus that i remember was that the epilogues were the snapchat update and that was it. lasting homestuck fans from 2016-2019 seemed to have come to understand that the ending was unsatisfying due to being planned far in advance and/or executed quickly so that hussie could get the story fuckin finished already after the last few years of long breaks & legal disputes surrounding what would be hiveswap, and many of the people who stuck with the fandom after the comic ended were late fans that were already well-acquainted with archive reading & thus cared much less about the original ravenous upd8 culture. the epilogues coming right out the gate trying to punish readers for wanting more therefore not only felt cruel, but confusing considering the more recent vibe of what the fandom felt like.
so, to link this all back together- between these three stories (off, undertale, & homestuck's post-canon) we end up with three different takes on how to incorporate meta elements w/ horror:
for off, meta elements are largely incorporated through the separation of the player & the batter, with certain notable characters referring directly to the player (or even referring to the game itself, as in the case of zacharie). the destruction of the world is given the connotations of a religious crusade through the batter's talk of "purification," with the supposed "official" ending of the game leaving the world entirely destroyed and gone, and the "special" bonus ending (where you pick the judge) leaving it desaturated and depopulated. a potential interpretation of this can thus be that the game acts as a meta commentary on other games of the same genre, twisting the typical routine of, "play as a dude going a something something vague mission for justice while destroying/murdering everything in your path," into something more explicitly horrifying. the path of divine destruction that the batter goes on w/ little to no regard for the suffering of the world is something that typically makes players quite uncomfortable, many people choosing to side with the judge by the end of the game despite siding with the batter being the "official" default ending.
for undertale, meta elements are utilized through characters like flowey & sans, most obviously in the genocide route where characters actively ask you to stop playing but also in true pacifist where flowey asks you to let them keep their happy ending. the horror of the game comes from the fact that the player has power unmatched by any of the characters in-game through the use of saves, clarified within the lore as a distinction between humans (players) & monsters (npcs) with some timeline fuckery thrown in for flavor. "punishment" of the player is introduced through sans & his genocide-run boss battle following the judgement of the player, which notably only happens when someone explicitly goes through and grinds out the killing of every single major & minor fight in every area of the game.
for homestuck's post-canon, meta elements are utilized through characters directly engaging with the concept of what it means to be "canon," and narration fuckery, as seen most notably through the character of ult. dirk taking over the narration in the meat timeline. nightmarish elements are present throughout the structure & content of each timeline largely through how they relate to LE, homestuck's main villain. "punishment" of the reader is introduced by contextualizing the inclusion of the most terrible elements as a way of punishing audiences for wanting more, enacted by the continuation's creators.
SO. puppets fuck i forgot about the puppets
3. what kind of villain is dirk trying to be, actually (okay we're actually talking about the puppet thing now)
at the end of off, the separation between the batter & the player is again emphasized through the final decision where you choose between siding with the batter (the "official" ending) or the judge (the "special" ending). no matter what you choose, the battle ends up fairly easy, affirming the fact that it is up to your choice as the player to decide who wins the fight. the player is fairly explicitly denoted as the puppeteer, and if the batter succeeds in his mission to destroy the world, the blame is placed on the player for going through with playing the game.
in undertale, the identity of the human moving through the underground is different depending on which route you take: frisk in the pacifist route, and chara/the player-entered name in genocide. at the end of the genocide route, chara takes over entirely, stopping the player from even being able to get the final hit in to kill the final boss before killing the player themself.
there is a pretty distinct difference between how off & undertale are able to tell their story in the context of a game vs. how homestuck tells its story as a mostly set-in-stone comic (at least now), but the key theme continuing throughout all of these stories as far as i see it comes down to one thing: puppets. WHICH is especially significant considering the fact that dirk, The Puppet Guy, is now one of the big post-canon villains, in part taking on the role of LE in parallel to jane taking on the role of HIC.
this post has been fucking long enough so i'll get to the point already: the whole path of destruction and quest to purify the world that the batter goes through in off feels very reminiscent of some of dirk's actions in the post-canon content, and that seems significant when considering who dirk is likely being puppetted by, LE (homestuck has a reader, but no player, so who is controlling who is marginally less obvious).
that's probably not too big of a surprise, especially considering that long ass list i wrote out a couple sections ago, but i think it could be notable in trying to contextualize dirk's actions throughout the story. in particular, it stands out to me that dirk's first big action within the meat timeline before going totally batshit is helping jane with her political campaign against karkat, which as we can see in the candy timeline is a terrible fucking idea considering she seems to be going right down the same path of fascism & troll eugenics in meat.
dirk isn't stupid, but here especially it's weird that he would be so down for jane getting political power, considering 1. he knows jane very well (very well, if we consider his heart aspect & ability to read people due to that), and 2. he knows the condesce very well. dirk is a fucking historian combing through documentation of the end of humanity, he's aware of what a global dictatorship looks like. he's smart, but as i said in my plato intelligence post, he's not necessarily on the same level as other omniscient narrators. it's the same problem as before, dirk is pretending to be the puppeteer but really has very little control over the actual situation. the idea that his "ascent to power" in the epilogues is actually just him becoming everyone's brain ghost has a lot of merit to me because of this.
in a similar vein, i've been thinking about this post a lot in terms of how ultimate dirk has taken on a lot of the traits of dave's bro (who also could fit in w/ the "who's the puppet/really in control" theme w/ how he is potentially being puppetted by a literal puppet. god there's too many fucking puppets). that leads me to a pretty major & interesting question to consider too: does ultimate dirk even have a soul? lots of implications depending on how you answer that. i made a joke not long ago about ult. dirk being just another dirk splinter that he created while attempting to deal with all the dirk splinters, but that idea might have more weight to it along these lines.
counterpoint though, i have to question if ult. dirk's goals really fall along the same lines of "purification" as the batter. his goal of creating a new sburb session (? iirc)/world creation is pretty much the direct opposite of the batter's world destruction, but i think we all know the prince's relationship with destruction by now. conclusion: the baby is 2 was the correct timeline all along. babies are the true ultimate creation, let's make this shit text already. (sorry, i've been watching a lot of evangelion lately.)
anyways. this post has been a WIP for a couple days and i'm starting to seriously lose the thread of the original thought, so i guess i'll just cut this off here with a couple minor sidenotes. this all came to kind of a simple, somewhat obvious point, but i think the exploration itself was decently interesting so. yeah!
sidenote1: sugar & lollipops
what is it with sweets being the most fucked up drugs imaginable in these stories. actually no, i get it, sugar is the closest you can get to the idea of drugs as a child, that kinda works. homestuck does have a surprising lack of cannibalism though, like even the trolls-eating-grubs thing is pretty weak. sad.
sidenote2: jake & religion
just thought it was interesting that the batter's purification quest has so many religious undertones (the add-ons having the roles of "father, son, & holy spirit," the names of other characters, etc.), though i don't have much of a connection here other than that jake (& karkat, really) also have a lot of the same thematic associations. not that big of a deal considering, but kinda interesting to note nonetheless (maybe w/ some interesting implications for ult. jake???)
sidenote3: davesprite & namco high
absolutely could not find a place to shove this in but the davesprite route in namco high is so fucking meta, has anyone still in this fandom even played that thing? the justification there is that davesprite gained meta awareness as a sprite & game guide, which i guess carries over to namco high too. feels very reminiscent of a lot of ideas to show up more prominently later, at the very least. hm.
#fuck this was a long one#long to read but also a long time to write for some reason??#sorry if it feels especially incoherent this time i had to take a break from writing for a bit for irl stuff#oh also#if anyone is still interested i AM reading the timaeus now#so that dirk plato post is a WIP. a slow WIP but a still a WIP#astronaut rambles#hs#off#nut dealer
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
I would also like to see some miphlink, if that's okay!
I was really struggling with what to draw, and then I remembered your ask from ages ago (dang ADHD brain...) anyway, sorry its such a late answer, but Miphlink inspired by Dicksee's La Belle Dame
#thank you so so much for the ask stars!! I had completely forgotten about it (I'm so so sorry!!) and it saved me from an artist-not-arting#you know the sort of pent up unpleasant feeling you get when you need to do something creative but its not happening and then its sad?#yeah I didn't get that because your ask suddenly popped into my head! so very happy about that :) thank you!#link is a horse girl and we need more of it in life#also to try and get the flowy fabric look that Dicksee's La Belle Dame has without putting Link in a dress I decided to modify Mipha's fins#and then added some of that gorgeous salmon colour from the original piece#also the reason the reason the champions tunic etc have that grey tinge to it is because the knight was wearing armour in the original piec#with a beautiful duckegg blue grey colour and I thought including that might be fun too!#anyway#the couple that is perfect for one another and should always be together for all time: Mipha and Link#mipha#link#botw#creativesplat draws#breath of the wild#miphlink#lipha#I really need to catch up on the miphlink tag... its so exciting to have so much wonderful art and writing to look through but I am a rathe#busy/ adhd forgetful bean so whenever I get round to reading or looking at art... there will be a long reblog/ queue of miphlink stuff!#eventually#at some point#because fashionably late (coughjustlatecough) is my middle name!#enough rambling sorry#I love drawing miphlink its like a comfort drawing thing#like her head is so squidgy and so easy to doodle so if ever my brain is bored or I want to draw and need happy hormones but can't find the#mipha is the answer because the squishy head is just sooooo good#the designers of mipha were amazing and I love them#epona#tloz#zelda
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
why are you, as an adult in 2024, still hung up on reylo. why are you still mocking the shippers. why do you believe yourself to be superior only because you dislike a stupid ship from a fucking space fairytale. girl (gnc) get a grip
#it's ridiculous. this ship is... stupidly cliché. like if you know fandoms at all#you could easily guess why people would be into it. hello?? have you tried to watch tfa without your hate-on-kyle-ron goggles?#did you watch their scenes together? you don't have to like something to recognize the hints#hell. at the time i didn't really like jonerys but i realized they were going to be a thing when i read agot in 2011#like folks. it's been nearly TEN LONG YEARS. let it go. LET IT FUCKING GOOOO#and for the lucy/cooper shippers out there who think reylos are (again) delusional when they compare the two ships:#no. *you* are being delusional only because you think reylo is unsexy and uncool (which is your right to think btw. obv)#if you can't see why someone would like both of these pairings for similar reasons... idk what to say honestly#people compared it to hannigram... honestly. again i see why they would appeal to anyone who's into both ships#i really do. but... unpopular opinion (since i'm more of a clannibal fan than i could ever be of reylo):#they are more similar to reylo than will/hannibal. there i said it#i'm not talking about the writing (admittedly the quality of it was questionable). i'm talking about tropes#never mind that imo the ghoul is more akin to vader than kylo but whatever#hannibal is an unapologetic kind of villain. he's not gonna have a redemption arc and that's okay#cooper is an antivillain who used to be a good man and became a disfigured cruel bastard. a parody of himself#lucy is him. him before the bombs dropped before he discovered the person he trusted the most wanted to commit genocide#nice. moral. polite. infused with the Good Old American Values™. he's basically her dark side#all of this is very hannigram/clannibal. i'm not denying it at all#but what'll likely happen is that lucy's actions will have a positive influence on the ghoul and remind him of what it means to be a man#and that's way more reylo-like. sorry.#beauty&thebeast/villain with some hidden good in him+morally righteous heroine/enemies to lovers etc.#i mean. hello??..... having said that. i'm not so much of a reylo shipper anymore and tbh never was. i really liked it at the time#but i was never fond of the st era. my fav characters are vader and leia and revan from the old eu. just saying#*and* it's also not impossible lucy gets darker with the ghoul as her traveling companion. in fact i wouldn't dislike it at all#if done well i mean#but i would still like for people to be intellectually honest and less puerile. god knows i have my notps#but i really don't give a fuck about the shippers. good for them i guess? i have better taste lmao but that's heavily subjective#val rambles in the tags#val speaks#txt
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go
(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)
#today's gone Badly and i'm upset but instead of venting abt it i'm gonna channel that energy into doing a bit of tag rambling abt Boothill#well. less abt Him and more abt uh. self-analyzing my anxiety surrounding contributing to fandoms. he's just today's catalyst#like. i know it's mostly a me thing. i'm hypersensitive to criticism and very conflict avoidant + socially anxious + perfectionistic etc.#so I'm the one that keeps myself from posting more stuff out of fear of being criticized or called-out for what i've made#bc inevitably Someone's gonna see it and think its OOC or a problematic take or they'll misread my intent. etc etc what have you#but like. that's inevitable. there's no way to communicate every single thing with all of the nuance required to avoid misunderstandings#and other times it's not a misunderstanding it's just a difference of opinions and that's Fine!! there's no accounting for personal taste#there's no accounting for several things actually. taste‚ bias‚ lore-knowledge‚ differing levels of chronic-online-ness‚ etc#so this isn't me complaining abt the state of fandom culture (although i do think. sometimes. ppl take shit a bit too seriously)#but anyways all of this is mostly just anxiety-fueled. it's not like i very often actually even receive negative feedback or anything#if anything ppl tend to tell me that i'm overthinking it and killing my own fun and worried that my stuff is more OOC than it is#which like. yeah. Yeah u right :) but that's just the way that i am! always losing the idgaf war i suppose#anyways what's Boothill got to do w this ur wondering. well. i've been thinking abt the quickly emerging concept that he's illiterate.#and it just. has me feeling a lot of ways. and watching ppl disagree over it has me feeling some Bad ways. bc it's def a loaded topic!#if you'll pardon the pun there. and i don't rlly have anything new to add other than that i'm conflicted abt it.#like yeah i saw the leaks days ago. of him mentioning 'not hitting the books' much as a child when we ask him why he sends voice messages#or voice Transcriptions ig. ykwim. and like. *braces for impact* ...i liked it? like. it doesn't feel right to call it endearing#i'm not trying to infantilize him. ok that's not the right word either but ugh. you know? what i mean?? who am i kidding even i don't know#it's not quite right to say that it feels like Representation either. but it's something close i guess#as a southern person myself who didn't receive a 'complete' education due to factors that weren't to do with my intelligence#the concept of seeing him as a capable force to be reckoned with and respected who also happens to have not received much formal education#i like that. i do. but there's so many issues w it at the same time. like. as i said‚ being southern myself has me Wary of the way Hoyo is-#writing him. as well as of the way that the fandom is taking the bits of his lore and running away w them. and i'm Very aware of how ppl-#will see a southern character and be All Too Eager to agree that they're lacking intelligence based on our Redneck™ stereotype#sigh. and before we even go too far with this. it's not even confirmed that hes completely illiterate. which is a valid criticism i've seen#there's Multiple reasons that could make him prefer voice to text. but regardless. i'm just worried that ppl will misconstrue my intentions#like. example: that edit i made the other day of him saying 'no thanks i can't read'. wasn't me playing into the stereotype of-#'haha dumb country boy can't read!' it was. in my eyes. something he'd say as a joke to make light of a potential insecurity#like. i think there's far more depth to Boothill's character if ppl could look past the surface. and i dont wanna contribute to the problem#but sometimes ppl Will have stereotypical traits and i wish the same could apply to characters as long as it's done Thoughtfully.
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh today I've been constantly experiencing the urge to un-private today-in-the-devildom & start writing for it again
#i'm gonna ramble in the tags but#i've been talking with starr (if you're reading this--hi starr!! <3) about the blog today and sharing some of the entries#and it just made me miss it so much#+ the conversation actually made me realize some other reasons why i didn't enjoy the blog in general anymore#like i genuinely love the blog and i genuinely loved writing for it & that conversation reminded me of that#but also there were so many reasons that ultimately pushed me to more or less abandon the blog & then later private it too#so i'm kind of at a loss here#tbh i think i'm mostly just scared to pick the blog up again only for it to end exactly like last time i picked it back up#i've actually always wanted for the blog to be a source of inspiration y'know?#like the things mentioned in the entries are kinda just small ideas right#i was hoping that people would read these & feel inspired to write or draw something of their own based on my entries#that was actually what made me start the blog in the first place. the hope that i could inspire others that way#aaahhhhhh.... maybe it's on me since i could have more openly communicated that idea......#i did get to meet one wonderful person who wrote a few fics based on my entries tho!! (hi ali <3)#but yeah..there's that#also the way engagement just dropped significantly after a while#like i know i was gone for a good while & that a lot of people left the fandom and all that#but still getting maybe one reblog if i'm lucky really feels like a punch to the gut#ESPECIALLY considering that i was close to 900 followers on there#do you guys know that feeling when you proudly show someone you care about something you did only to get a disinterested answer?#yeah...#that's essentially how it feels like to me#and well as you might know the feeling of “why should i keep writing if apparently no one cares” eventually won... haha.....#but aaaahhhhh i'm still clinging onto the hope & what ifs here#that conversation with starr really just made me forget about everything that frustrated me about the blog & left me with this#longing feeling to start again lol#hey if you've made it this far into the tags let me just ask--would you care if i picked the blog back up?#would you also *show* that you care?#i'm actually quite curious (you could almost call me george lol)#anyway maybe we'll see each other on today-in-the-devildom again in the future.. who knows
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
looking @ old fic i started when i was 14/15 is so funny bc im realizing once again why i never mark fics as abandoned even if its been literal years since i've touched them. specifically i was checking docs for stuff i started and either did or didn't post to ffn.
and its like. nothing is bad??? like i can see where my outside-the-box ideal of fic writing comes from. not just fics but writing in general, i'm p sure. even if it's a total cliche plot setup, there are details on each that rly make it stand out like oh yeahhhhhh i did have this great idea once upon a time.
funny too bc was it executed well in prose??? no absolutely not i wrote like shit when i was 15. would i revive an idea one day and revise it to be less cliche or cringy while still keeping the stand-out elements??? yea maybe. i might. everything i'm currently working on that i started from 2021 up to now still holds my supreme interest, but like i'm not gonna say never.
esp since i write fic first and foremost for my own need and specifically what i like to read, it makes it impossible to consider an idea i've thought extensively about "not worth writing anymore". anyway not making this too long i jus found everything interesting to consider
#writing#this fic i pulled up from JUNE 2014 crazy was the old chosenshi au i was trying to write for a friend#i dont ship blue/silver and never will and thats prolly why i never finished it#but i do still like!! the idea of rocket!blue raised w silver and breaking free of tr while running the hoenn branch#no idea how i remembered bc it wasnt in the plot pts on the doc but she was gonna get sent to the battle frontier#to nab jirachi and have encounters w frontier brains and change her mind at the end of it all#hell i could go back and not make it ship fic at all - have silver be a little one-sided obsessed or#even jus like.. attached to blue as a rivalry like as a way to show her up at every turn#another fic around the same time was the old pokespe hs au where i changed all the dexholder's names for some reason#i have no idea where i was in reading spe bc i put lyra in for some reason and had the sinnoh trio even tho i never read past v2 of dp#idk if it was more gameverse or what but its so funny looking @ the ship list n seeing i had gold paired w black#bc i had manga!ss and manga!ferriswheel so was it rly speverse or was i projecting????#actually i think black was supposed to die and gold was gonna go thru this whole thing abt grieving#looking at the ship list so funny bc i never shipped gold/crys or entourageshi#and clearly i did not know the superiority of pmshi if i threw lyra in jus for silver#god but i do love (most!) of the alt names i gave them#would absolutely fuck up the ship list if i ever redid it tho#also have perfectworld tho im sure i have the most recent rewrite on pen and paper somewhere#that one i also gave up bc the idea i had for flare!sycamore was cringe along with#every time i went back to work on it enough time passed that i thought my writing sucked#i rewrote that damn thing so many times but oooooooo i still love the idea#as long as i changed the cringe parts to smth better i could still rock w most of these#that fic rly had everything... psychic!korrina. leaf/serena. sycamore hacking the secret to mega evo. lys/syc that ends in failure#bc of the ending line i will never forget > only in a perfect world could you and i be together. destined and doomed from the start#im rambling n im boutta run outta tags gimme a sec
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
My brain is such a mixed bag. It doesnt understand anything
#cheeseburgerboy#i usually sit here for minutes before posting something. and im just worrying the whole time.#or i write 1 or 2 paragraphs. and just delete them after that.#i guess its just how it is#i don't want to be upset about it anymore.#some things are just very hard.#but it still bothers me.#because its annoying#and also frustrating#its the only reason why i tend to have so many tags#because i get really nervous#it gives me something to do. since im too scared to post it.#and also a way to hide it. in case no one reads#its just scary. it makes me scared#i try not to say something. so no one worries about me or anything#but after too long. its too difficult.#i try not to wait. but thats also pretty hard#im kinda strange
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
whenever i hear a song that i would like if it weren’t for the fact that it was too long, i think about this:
like you can afford to write tangentially if you/your music is already popular and you know that people are going to listen to you no matter what and in fact laud your longer pieces as being genius etc but can you really be releasing 5+ minute long songs without a built-in audience?
#idk. thinking about this because of the new lana album and i think i’d like a lot of these songs better if they were shorter lol#some of these songs drag so much especially when she includes these long sections of like one repeated line over and over again#or like when taylor swift releases the extended version of all too well and everyone freaked out#that’s all good and well but she HAD to release the shorter version first#and she knows she has this huge fanbase that will eat that shit up no matter what she does really#part of it is nostalgia admittedly but i also think the shorter version is just a better song#that song is on the longer side to begin with but 10 minutes???? why#(i did listen to both songs back to back to make sure my opinion was still the same as when the 10 minute version was released & it is lol)#idk! obviously i’m bad at this myself because i write so fucking much to express a simple point but it is more skillful to be able#to say things as effectively and precisely in a more concise way#not saying this ONLY applies to mitski because she’s the one this article is about but she is a good example of it#like being able to express a feeling in just a couple lines that would probably take a less skilled writer like a novel to express#it also reminds me of how my high school latin teacher described how in college he took a class about museum design or something like that#and their first assignment was to write a description of an artifact to tell museum visitors what it was#and every time he submitted a draft the professor would tell him to make it shorter while still communicating the necessary information#until he literally could not make it any shorter than it already was#because you have to assume that people are not gonna read all that! because they won’t unless they have some kind of external motivation to#idk there IS something to be said for including ‘unnecessary’ parts of writing etc obviously there’s nuance#but a lot of the time i think if there isn’t a reason to include something then why include it!
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
i never remember to explain shit anymore i just vaguepost and expect people to catch up but i finally have good news, we've made a lot of progress with my parents' estate (they both ran their own businesses and you know those images of nightmare cable management? well imagine that with bank accounts) and i actually have money now - im taking a trip to Aotearoa NZ with my mate Jules next week (dark sky reserve! lotr filming locations! snow! FOOD!) and then in august i will be moving to nyc to pursue a 2 year masters degree in library science with a focus on rare materials archival studies!! shits happening in my life!! im not just sitting in my house doing nothing all day!! and like i said i have money!! if you're taking commissions lmk bc while im focused on my getaway for the next few weeks i wanna support my friends and their art and when i get back i wanna throw u cash to draw my ocs!!
#fred says a thing#personal#i havent slept (its 8am) but not for sad reasons! i was reading a good book and then i just had a lot of thoughts!#invariably i will be sad again - probably soon! i will definitely see stuff on my trip that i will want to show my parents and have to#experience the strange nature of grief-for-what-never-was several times over during otherwise great moments#- but i will also be happy in the future too!#my therapist says i definitely have ptsd! im learning more about emotional flashbacks and how to manage them!#im a human being and i will continue to be one for the rest of my life!#i hope thats a long time!#but even if that isnt something my genetics allows i was happy now! and people were happy to have me in the world!#im realising that sounds rather alarming but i just have a lot of fears about my genetics considering. you know. the cancer orphaning.#im trying to manage both my health fears and my health itself in a reasonable way! i made a chicken tomato pasta sauce last night#just from ingredients i had lying around and it was pretty good!#i have a ripe tomato i picked from the garden yesterday that today i will fry up with bacon and put on some toast i think#there are so many books i want to read#there are so many books i want to write#in a few days i will be experiencing snow (a rarity for me) and i will probably be handling the cold very poorly and i will feel excited#and uncomfortable at the same time#and for much of my life i will experience a lot of contradictory things at the same tiem#and i will experience times of great boredom and inaction! we all have to stand in queues and wait for buses and go to the dentist#and wonder what might have been#but i will experience them. i will.
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do…. Do people actually have an issue with stuff being written in present tense?
#I’ve heard of POV preference but seeing all these posts about how much people dislike present tense#maybe I’m just not an observant reader but I can count the number of times I’ve actively noted a book/fic’s tense on one hand#and almost always it was because I liked how it worked with the author’s writing style#you’re telling me people will consider dropping something JUST because it’s in present tense??#genuinely can someone explain this to me?#I know some people don’t like first person pov because it feels too close and ‘I’ didn’t do anything. the character did#(I don’t really see it that way and don’t mind first person though I prefer third person)#and second person pov is rare and people don’t like it for the same reasons (being told what they as a reader ‘did’)#(I personally like second person pov a LOT but also prefer it to be a little treat actually suited to the story)#but verb tense?? as long as it all works grammatically I don’t see an issue#a lot of the examples I see of how present tense doesn’t work is showing two paragraphs side by side in the past and present#and I will agree that the present reads worse comparatively#but also it’s because the sentences were obviously (at least imo) written and structured for past tense first#and then ‘translated’ to present tense if that makes sense#I personally like how present tense lets me play with my sentences#but also I know that when I play with time and have a character recount past events within their own internal musings I switch tense#which I would think is allowed?? but maybe that’s bad form and I’m proving the point why past tense is ‘superior’#(I don’t really care for fic writing purposes as long as it flows and isn’t distracting but who’s to say)#anyways this was long but yeah. genuinely curious about this one#white weasel talks#tbd probs
5 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
ballerina-jennifer-beth
Untitled
kultegin
亂葬崗
paulwilkinsonphotography
Paul Wilkinson Photography
cosmicrollo
If you live among wolves, you have to act like a wolf
kreolls-blog
hello