#me remembering that tumblr is in fact great for all these rambles & try for more eloquence without breaking into thread | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cookinguptales · 10 months

Text

I almost wrote a small essay in the tags of that "fanwork as content" post but realized that it would probably be better off as its own post. So now it's... a large, rambling essay. lmao

Like... to preface, AO3 is great, it's a great resource for fandom, it feels good to have a centralized location that works well. That said, there has been a steady decline in how I've felt treated as an author since we switched to an archive-only model of fic.

For people who are newer to fandom, pre-AO3 (and even in the early days of AO3), people often crossposted fic. Sometimes to websites, sometimes to journals (particularly LJ/DW), sometimes to communities, sometimes to kink memes...

AO3, while certainly one of the primary places you could upload stuff, wasn't necessarily where you would get most of your primary interaction about your fic. It was always designed to be an archive, not a social media site.

But since we moved to an archive model (and away from LJ/DW) I've noticed that fic gets almost no traction on sites that actually are intended for social interaction. I'm not saying it's easy for any creator in fandom, but god. The numbers on fic posts are just downright demoralizing.

I don't mean to sound arrogant here, but I think I'm a pretty good writer. People seem to really connect with my fic. In multiple fandoms, I've written fic that most people have read and enjoyed, to the point where people have just taken it for granted that if someone reads fic in the fandom, they've probably read something I've written.

All this is to say, I know I've written fics that people like. I know I've written fics that people connect with. And I know those posts still only get like 5 notes sometimes on Tumblr.

I'm proud of my work and I'm happy that it's gotten such a warm welcome on AO3!!! But there are times when I feel like all this means that I could write literally the best fic on earth and still no one would talk to me. People still wouldn't want to interact with me on social media sites.

I wrestled for... honestly, a long time with all this. I had a hard time putting into words why this felt so uh. Bad. Was I just self-conscious about my own writing? Yes, but that's a separate issue. Was I just jealous of others' popularity? Sort of, but it went deeper than that.

I had an issue with a fandom that I don't write in anymore. I got a lot of fanart based on my fic, which was great, which was amazing, there were even fan comics made. Visual media travels better on social media than fic. That's just a fact. And I had to watch as repeatedly, art based on the fic I wrote got thousands of notes while my fic got maybe 12. And I realized the power of social media vs. AO3 because it did get to audiences that weren't familiar with my fic and people started to give those artists credit for my ideas.

I remember watching the tags of those posts because it was occasionally the only way I'd hear feedback on what I'd written (imagine getting one comment and 5 notes on a fic, then seeing dozens of people in the tags of fanart saying that it was their favorite fic in the fandom! it was weird!) and seeing the tags gradually devolve into "oh, this is such a neat idea for an AU, artist OP" or "wow this dialogue is perfect [artist] I love it" and like

It's weird to feel so happy because so many people are enjoying your work in a transformative way but also so unhappy because you have been completely removed from the equation. No one... even knows you wrote those things anymore. You have been removed in favor of a more "marketable" version of your work.

It's uh. It's a bad feeling. I stopped writing in that fandom eventually.

So again, I felt like... idk, like there was no point in me even trying. Because I could write the best fic on earth and still somehow get erased as a person. People would want my "content," but they wouldn't want me.

I think that's what hurt my feelings so much.

What I've realized is this: what I miss is the sense of community. On LJ, you could post a fic, cross-post it to a community, and there would be comments that would become conversations that would become lasting friendships. Not always! But often. I still talk to some people daily who I met through fic on LJ over a decade ago.

In the archive model, there has almost become a death of the author. The me on social media and the me on AO3 are very different; more importantly, it's almost like it's viewed as the "me" is on social media, but the work is on AO3. I am absent. There is only the fic, not the person who created it.

And that's okay, but when you try to combine those two things on social media and it goes over like a lead balloon... idk. There's an odd sense of dehumanization. I don't mean it in like... I don't know, a dramatic human rights violation kind of way. More that I literally feel like less of a human person the way I interact with fandom these days. Like I'm no longer a person who writes fic as a way to connect with my fellow fans and more a "content creator" whose human side is separate from my creation and never the twain shall meet.

(And I'll admit it feels especially galling to be forced into the capitalistic "content creator" box when it's not even a thing I can make money off of, lmao. It's like the worst of both worlds. I feel like if I can't make money off fanfic, I should at least be exempt from capitalistic social trends during its creation.)

I'm not so much complaining about my current fandom; WWDITS has actually been one of the best fandoms for interaction I've been in since the birth of AO3. That's one of the reasons I keep writing stories for fellow fans to read -- many of those fans feel like my friends, and I want to make them happy.

I think that poster was right when they talked about how the pivot from fan to "content creator" has fucked up fandom. There is this sense that we should be treating fandom like a job, often a fast-paced one with no pay. There is this idea that we should be separated from our "content" like you might a worker from their product, and blah blah blah alienation of labor, Marx, I get it, but damn if that isn't a shitty thing to do to your fellow fans who are making art for the love of art.

There are so many things I do love about AO3. I like having a central, organized place to put my fic. I like not having to worry about my work being lost to the ages. I like having an organized comments section I can return to on bad days to cheer myself up.

But I don't like the way that fic has kind of been relegated to a portion of fandom where people aren't particularly social. I don't like the way that authors are separated from their writing. I hear people complain sometimes about A/Ns because god forbid an author leave any trace of their actual personality to distract you from their content.

I can't have DMs with someone on AO3. I can't add someone to my friends list. There are no "beloved mutuals." There is just my work and the people who are kind enough to comment on it, even if they never actually engage with me elsewhere.

It's... a weird feeling, to feel so loved and unloved at the same time. Like you keep writing trying to make something good enough that people will talk to you but like. That's really not how it works. lmao. The best fic in the world won't make you friends anymore. It won't make people see you as a fellow fan rather than a pen name under a title.

My fic is some of the most personal stuff in the entire world, but my personhood is stripped away from it. It's so fucking weird. People like my fic, but they don't like me. They remember my stories but not the person who told them. It's bizarre. It feels like having your life and experiences strip-mined for content, and then the rest of it is just... left behind.

Frankly... I work in the publishing industry IRL and I have had opportunities to write professionally. Real, tangible opportunities. But I turned them down because I've seen it, the way that trying to fit such an intensely personal art form into a capitalistic framework can be exhausting, dehumanizing, and stressful. I don't want that for my work. Fandom has always been an escape from that.

But now fandom is starting to conform to those exact same capitalistic frameworks (and ofc without any kind of capitalistic compensation) and I hate to see it. It's so stressful. I feel like we're losing a lot of what makes fandom fun for writers and we're getting pretty much nothing in return. I'm not surprised that so many writer friends I know in fandom have quit.

like damn, I just wanna have fun with a bunch of dumbshits who love to overanalyze vampires and cry over their dumbshit shenanigans, not take on a second job. one that, I reiterate, I am not being paid for.

(Note: I am not asking for payment, just that I not be treated like a worker. The tradeoff for treating someone like a worker is that they get compensated for it. If I'm not being compensated, no one gets to treat me like this is my fucking job.)

It's a weird thing, because for a lot of people, fandom has become their job. Fanartists at cons selling fanart, youtube essayists making money off videos, professional cosplayers with sponsorships, etc. And so fandom is becoming more corporate, more capitalistic, more marketable. It's frustrating for those who don't want to capitalize on our fannish output, and doubly frustrating for people who are legally unable to do so.

I'm realizing as I write this that I'm most upset about the nonconsensual capitalization of fandom, particularly when imposed on people who are unable to access the very meager benefits of capitalism. I didn't ask for any of this!

Feels like when I'd be forced to go to assemblies for the US military when I was in high school. Like I'm morally opposed to all this but I'm also not physically fit for "service" anyway, so it's doubly insulting. I feel like I've been opted into the, ah, corporatization of fandom when I'm not even eligible for employee benefits. None of this should even apply to me! ;;

Okay!! I'm all het up now so I'm gonna go eat lunch and go for a walk! No monetization of hobbies, only trees.

#I need to go look at a tree lmao #just me #vent post #ask to tag idrk

48 notes · View notes

cypanache · 4 months

Note

Hi! I recently read Patchwork Heart (like twice in two days) and I now have brainrot from that fic. (Which is to say that I loved it.) And I’m sad that it’s incomplete but I’m grateful that you wrote it, and all your other Parks and Rec fics. I remember reading a comment from you (from like 11 years ago lol) where you said you’d been writing for 14 years and you encouraged someone who was feeling bad about their own writing. Which gave me the motivation to keep writing, and made me think, how awesome must it be to be a fanfic writer for so long? This is a rambly comment to say that I’m glad you’re still writing (even if it’s not for Parks heh) and you’re a great inspiration!

(Also I’m aware this isn’t a question but I don’t really know how Tumblr works)

Well this ask officially made my year. (P.S. - Asks don't have to be questions. Especially when they're as lovely as this)

You know every once in a while I think, am I being totally ridiculous just leaving my live journal out there like that? Really, who's going out and reading stuff from over 11 years ago, except ... yeah I've totally done that myself. And I'm forever grateful for the authors who let their stuff just float along and exist. So I'm gratified to know that I did that for you today. And extremely gratified to know that I was able to give you a little motivation to keep writing. I have been doing this for over twenty years with varying levels of success and intensity as my life evolves, but I keep coming back to it, because really at the end of the day, fanfic is one of those hobbies that more than anything make me feel like me. When you find that, you owe it to yourself to hold onto it. Even if you can't do it perfectly or quickly.

I am not going to lie, I'm very sad Patchwork Heart is incomplete as well. That was an unfortunate product of life circumstances overwhelming me and by the time I paddled my way to the surface my emotional relationship with Parks had changed. But I am forever in love with the complete human disaster that was teenage Ben Wyatt in that fic.

Sooooo this isn't much, but this ask made me go back through my google docs. Here have part of a camping trip:

Griggs-Knope-Wyatt (Whatever) Family Vacation

Hell – 375-369 days to go

Yeah, it’s official, Ben does not get camping.

At all.

Look he gave it a fair try. But he just- he doesn’t get it all right. He doesn’t get what’s so fun about sleeping on the floor (”Ground,” Marlene informs him, “It’s called a ground when it’s outside, dear.") or getting so many mosquito bites, or having to make sure your food is put up in a certain way so raccoons won’t get to it. And you know what he really doesn’t get?

Ghost stories.

He does not get ghost stories. They’re not scary. They’re particularly not scary if your dad is telling them. And when your step-mom takes over and does manage to tell a scary one, well then you’re outside, in the dark . . . scared.

Oh and his tent collapses on him in the middle of the night.

Yup, okay. Not. Having. Fun.

Ben just wishes he could convince himself that’s actually because of the camping.

Leslie’s been withdrawn and subdued for the past two days. Not angry, just quiet. He tried to talk to her yesterday morning like a dozen times, but the one time he got anywhere the fact he was trying to take the whole thing seriously only seemed to make it all worse.

He doesn’t know what to do for her. Has the sneaking suspicion there’s actually nothing he can do. Or at least nothing he’s willing to do.

So yeah, maybe he’s going to just lie here under the wreckage of what used to be his tent for a little while.

Except he can’t even seem to manage that, because the next thing he knows there’s the sound of footsteps and a flashlight is being shined into his eyes like an interrogation lamp.

“Benjamin?”

Ben holds up a hand to shield his eyes and squints up at the outline of his step-mother standing over him. “Umm, hi?”

“Benjamin dear. Your tent’s on the ground,” she informs him as though she’s not entirely sure he’s aware of this fact. Sometimes he’s pretty sure his step-mother thinks he’s an idiot.

“Yeah, so umm, funny story about that. You know what it was, it- it fell.”

The fact he always winds up saying stuff like that around her probably doesn’t help.

Marlene doesn’t respond for long moment, and even though he can’t see her face he can pretty much picture it. It’s a face he’s pretty familiar with. The one that says ‘I worry about your ability to dress yourself in the mornings’.

“I don’t- I’ve never really camped,” he continues, unable to help himself. Marlene’s silences are just about the most effective interrogation technique he’s ever encountered. No wonder Leslie’s usually so talkative.

“I never would have guessed,” she shoots back, before adding, “Well, should I just leave the two of you alone or would you like some help putting it back up?”

“No- no, help would be good.”

There’s a long pause, then: “Ben, dear.”

“Yeah?”

“You need to get out of the tent.”

“Oh. Right.”

---

So in a surprising turn of events (at least in his opinion), Marlene actually turns out to be a pretty good teacher. Like okay she isn’t the most patient person in the world, but she’s incredibly precise in her explanations of how to do things like tie a hitch-knot, and Ben’s always been more comfortable with precision over intuition, so it doesn’t take him too terribly long to catch on, and when she pats him lightly on the knee in approval, it feels like getting an A in your most demanding class from the teacher who scares the shit out of you.

All in all, Ben’s feeling kind of good about things by the time they get the tent back up, so when Marlene points out that it’s only an hour or so until sunrise and asks whether he wants to help her make coffee for breakfast, he says yes, thinking maybe things are looking up.

Yeah, no, that was obviously just designed to lull him into a false sense of security.

“So,” Marlene opens without warning or preamble, “Leslie tells me I’m returning the Purdue sweatshirt.”

He barely manages not to tip over his cup of coffee. “Yeah, um, sorry about that.”

“Ben didn’t we talk about that? Um-”

“Is the sound in dumb. Yeah I know.”

The look she gives him could level small countries. Ben keeps his head down and tries not to have an aneurysm.

How does he get himself into these situations? Really why is it sarcastic, smart-aleck things always come out of his mouth at exactly the wrong time. It’s not like he’s trying to be a wise-ass. He’s not really trying to be anything really. (Except maybe invisible. Invisible would be nice right now.) But for some reason it happens anyway, and he can’t seem to stop it. It’s like this leak, this crack in his personality. Ninety-five percent of the time he manages to be exactly the kind of guy he should be, the kind he thinks Virginia Wyatt would have wanted him to be. The kind of son his perpetually fragile father seems to need. Quiet and polite and respectful. But every once in awhile the pressure of keeping everything else in just gets to be too much and these little drops of acid seep through, landing where they’re not wanted and scarring once they’re there.

Except Marlene Griggs-Knope doesn’t scar that easily.

“Oh, sit up straight. Really, Ben if you keep going through life acting like a spineless jellyfish, it won’t just be Leslie who treats you like one.”

“I don’t.” he mutters under his breath.

Only he says it to the picnic table so that probably undermines his whole protest. He forces himself to sit up and look Marlene in the eye (Okay, it’s more like her forehead, but come on, cut him a little slack here. Do you want to look Marlene in the eye? Yeah, that’s what he thought. Shut up.</i>)

“Leslie doesn’t-”

But he can’t make himself complete the thought, because . . . yeah, sometimes she kind of does. And, shit, it’s Leslie’s mom, and Marlene’s giving him this look that clearly says ‘don’t bullshit me about my own daughter.’ Still, Leslie treats everyone like that, at least everyone important to her. Ann gets, like, twenty-three instructions a day. And, well, he likes it. It’s been a really long time since anyone paid that much attention to anything he did. It’s how he knows he’s important, that she cares. If she ever stopped trying to micromanage his life, well then he’d just be another ordinary person on the outside, wouldn’t he?

He opens his mouth to try again, but Marlene waves his efforts away with a dismissive hand. Oh good, apparently he’s now already used up whatever small amount patience she had allotted for him today, and it’s only, what? Five-thirty in the morning? This is probably some kind of new record for him.

Yaaaay . . .

At that moment from across the campsite, Leslie unzips her tent and steps out into the new dawn, only to freeze, eyes going wide, at the obviously unexpected sight of Ben sitting at the picnic table with her mother.

He tries to remember enough Morse code to blink her a S.O.S.

And any other morning it wouldn’t matter that he’s pretty sure he just looks like he’s having an epileptic fit, Leslie would have already come over and rescued him.

Instead she just turns back around, grabs her towel and a bar soap out of the tent and trudges off to the shower facilities, leaving him alone with Marlene to fend for himself.

Okay, Leslie is officially really upset.

“She will get over it.”

At Marlene’s observation, Ben whips his head back around only to find himself pinned by his step-mother’s sharp assessing gaze.

It feels like all the oxygen just got sucked out of the . . . well, earth.

He opens his mouth to stammer out a disclaimer but only manages a strangled kind of gurgle, which Marlene, thankfully, ignores.

“Leslie is no stranger to disappointment. She’s a very resilient girl. Always has been.” She says it matter-of-factly and maybe even a little proudly, then immediately counterbalances it with a sigh of exasperation. “Realism, however, is unfortunately not your step-sister’s strong suit. Particularly when it comes to people.”

Ben just presses his lips together and fiddles a little with his coffee cup, drumming his fingernails against the metal. He’s not really sure why Marlene’s telling him all this. Not that any of it is exactly revelation. To know anything about Leslie is to know she puts too much faith in life in general and people in particular.

So no it’s not like he doesn’t realize Leslie’s been disappointed by people before—her father, Lindsay . . . And then suddenly it clicks with him, the why behind all of this.

People leave.

In Leslie’s world, people leave her.

For some reason he’s never thought about it before, about her history and the painful lessons life’s given her. After all, he’s the one with the dead mother, the great tragedy that defined his entire fucking existence before he met her; that he wears like a poorly healed scar on his personality. Leslie always seemed so untouched by comparison.

But she’s not. He can see that now.

Because yeah, maybe his mother was ripped out his life.

But people walk out of hers.

By their own choice.

Of their own free will.

Ben drops his head to stare down at the film that’s started to form on his rapidly cooling coffee in shame as he realizes he’s been making plans to join them, to go off to college and then conscientiously extricate himself from her life, little by little, bit by bit, until he’s down to a subsistence diet. To the bare-essentials of what he needs to survive. Never once thinking about Leslie’s needs.

God, he is such an ass.

Marlene who has been silent for a little while, gets up to pour herself another cup of coffee, before coming over to sit back down and drop another bombshell on him. “You know, sometimes I wonder if your father and I should have waited until after the two of you went to college to get married.”

Oh god. He feels a cold finger of dread crawl its way down his spine at her words, and suddenly all he can think is: She knows. She knows how he feels about her daughter, and he’s going to die. Up here in all this outdoors, Marlene probably knows a dozen ways to kill him and make it look like an accident. Maybe that’s why they’re camping in the first place. Maybe this was her plan all along . . .

It’s about this time that the rest of what Marlene’s saying starts to sink in. “—it’s not that we’re not happy you two get along so well. After all, that’s the whole reason we decided to get married when we did. Give all of us the chance to try to be a family. But--” she purses her lips, and narrows her eyes, “Maybe we were a little too successful?”

And the terror’s back. “Too successful?”

“Up until two days ago, all Leslie ever talked about was going to IU and being close to home. She’s already learned the fight song.” That makes him almost smile despite himself, because of course she has. He bites the inside of his mouth just in time to stop it. Marlene continues. “And your father tells me you’ve been collecting brochures for out of state schools ever since the two of you moved to Indiana. But suddenly here I am buying sweatshirts for Purdue.”

“I didn’t ask-”

Marlen waves his protest away. “Of course you didn’t.” Then in a seeming nonsequitor: “Did you know Ann Perkins did Model UN all last year?”

-----

When I get a little more time I'll try to bullet point out for you where I was going.

#cy writes things #parks and rec #ben wyatt #leslie knope #leslie x ben #step-sibling au

7 notes · View notes

nonranghaes · 2 months

Note

your sweet svt drabbles are such an inspiration to me. I've been getting into writing fics slowly by writing just short ones off a single scenario, and i have too many prompts and ideas coming from my head (which is great !) that i already had laid out but i just couldn't find thee tempo to start. Soo I'm trying to get more inspo by reading around tumblr and to my luck i landed here! i found your writing style an exemplar to how i wanted to write (bonus if you'd like to give some writing tips? 🥹). Your drabbles looked effortlessly written, they're simple yet so expressive and visually evocative. Reading them makes me feel like it's easy to just get the idea off my head and picture it in words OK I'LL STOP HASJB it's literally midnight o clock (when the strong urge to give one of my prompts a shot kicks in)

aaaaaAAA AND IF I START CRYIN????

honestly i dont rly know if i have any solid writing tips haha i like reading a lot since it can teach me a lot abt what i like in writing and what i dislike!! + reading helps u pick up on how other ppl describe things and how their writing flow. idk if that makes sense though. like... book i just finished (a death in tokyo) is very to the point and practical with its writing. it was written in a way that i could clearly envision a lot of things and my mind would fill in the holes since its set in a real world setting. other stuff i read might take care in describing things in more detail, but reading higashino's work kinda made me understand further how just plainly stating things can have its own power and paint a picture just as well--just depends on what you're writing and what kind of vibe it should have, yknow?

like. i wouldn't expect a thriller to have the same writing flow as a romance novel, but the gritty details can still have importance depending on what the topic is. little things like that. genuinely, imo, the best writers are those who read a lot and my advice is rly just to kinda read everything u feel safe w reading!!!

also i think ive said this a lot on wooahaes but ive also been writing since i was like. 11. if not younger lol so ive had a looooootta time to practice and refine and get to where i am now and i'll still be improving into the future hopefully!!!

other than that... hmm...

i'll admit this one isn't something everyone can do (and obvs no shame to ppl who can't!) but i always try to envision the space i'm writing and the people within it.

i think for me personally, i care a lot about the physicality of whoever i'm writing? if they're nervous, are they acting shifty? are they wringing their hands? is this a situation they want to get out of, or are they nervous because they're kinda excited for what's to come? how are they vocally, too? are they the kind of person who rambles when they're nervous, or do they get really quiet? is it obvious, or will it seem normal if they're quiet/chatty?

like... with the mark lee drabble where he's nervously dragging out the question of "what if we kissed?" it was kinda important to me to just kinda have him dragging it out because once he says it, there's no way to take it back, and once he says it, the nerves take over in a "and now i must ramble, lets talk about anything but what i just said, so the aquarium-" where even though we don't SEE mark, we still can tell he's a nervous wreck over it all. its little things like that that just kinda stick out to me?

mmm but for my drabbles specifically... i think i kinda function off the fact that i'm not writing an actual fic here? if i wanted to write something longer, i'd put it on wooahaes (and sometimes i do! i've had a couple fics now i was gonna just post as a drabble but then they kinda ran away from me). i've deleted parts of drabbles before because i felt like they were getting too irrelevant. the point of a drabble, to me personally, is to just kinda give somewhat a quick snapshot of a moment. i think my stuff usually takes place in a single place as far i can remember, because changing scenes makes it feel like a bigger thing (barring stuff where there was a short flashback).

i think it can help to have an idea of what you want to capture if you're writing a short drabble. reader/seungkwan caring for one another, minho teasing reader over the cats, reader trying to get one over on joshua (ft seungkwan). occasionally the more fantasy-ish stuff is like "merfolk reader in love w jisung" and "merfolk reader saving minho" or "android!shua being saved from the facility by reader" comes to me, too. i just kinda write purely by vibes and what i wanna write. idk if this helps but i usually do try to have some idea of what exactly i wanna do!! the times i have opened a post and closed it again bc i had nothing..................................... yeah

(obvs no shame in those moments ksdhfds i just always end up sitting there like. what was i doing again.)

ummm idk what else to say!! i can always try to give advice on other stuff if u ever have specific questions but this is all ive got rn <3 good luck!!!!! i believe in u!!!!!!!!

#nonranghaes.asks #asks.anon

2 notes · View notes

deakyjoe · 1 year

Note

the more i think about the recent chapter of somebody's watching me the more i fall in love with you as a writer and your interpretation of simon. you've managed to find the middleground between Ghost and Simon that feels so true to both versions and you've humanised him in a way that doesn't water down the essence of his character. for a character as multidimensional and layered as he is that is if course no easy task and with each chapter you put out i am in awe of how you tackle his characterisation.

when i first read chapter 10 i was feeling a lot of emotions (another testament of how skilled you are at writing. eliciting strong emotions from a reader is no easy task) and i was so caught up in the "how could he do this? this is so creepy" of it all and tried to convince myself that no, maybe you were wrong, simon wouldn't do this. because as childish as it seems, i didn't want to admit that my current favourite comfort character could do something so violating and creepy. now that the initial shock of it has worn off and i've given it more thought, i think it's right up his alley and more in character than i would have hoped.

to me it seems that simon, with all his inexperience with relationships and love in general, approached the situation in the only way he knew how; as if it were a methodical intelligence operation or whatever the proper military term for it is. he used all available resources to gather information and intercepted the target at the known location then went against his predetermined rules of engagement which landed him in a relationship he may have wanted but didn't really aim for. in my head it seems like Simon failed so he defaulted to Ghost. it by no means excuses any of actions but looking at it from what i think may be his point of view softens the situation a little bit. definitely not enough to forgive him easily though. i can't wait to see him beg for forgiveness.

i didn't intend on ranting for this long tbh but thank you for reading my random 1am rambles about your work. i remember reading it for the first time at like 3am a little under a month ago and feeling so giddy about everything. you've really done a great job and you're probably one of my favourite accounts on tumblr now.

p.s i saw your post earlier about being afraid that you'll lose followers after the series is over and that is so far from the truth! sure we might have found you because of the fic but it was only a means of discovery, not the be all, end all of what you have to offer. we came for simon but stayed for ej! plus who doesn't love pedro pascal i mean he is just so ,,,, dreamy sigh

god i am quite literally physically unable to shut up sometimes im so sorry for how long this is

People who understand the thought process that goes into my writing and my interpretation of Ghost, I am forever in love with you 🫶🫶

Listen, there’s not much more I can add to this that will say anything extra as you’re quite literally spot on. This is EXACTLY the point I was trying to make.

Since the beginning this story has been about combining the two - Ghost and Simon. Because whilst technically they are the same man, they actually differ quite a lot but elements of each can be found in the other.

The idea of chapter 10 and the end of chapter 9 was to leave you thinking “what the fuck”. Because he’s been so kind and attentive as he figures out his affection for Sarge so far. So the sudden shock of being like “he did something terrible, almost unforgivable” is there to make you question him as a character and his motives. He loves Sarge, he really does, but his means of going about that love are wrong. He may believe what he’s doing is right but morally it’s questionable at best.

And you pointing out the fact that he went about the situation as if he were Ghost and used his resources to carry it out methodically is right on the mark. Simon fails him in this area, he doesn’t know what to do. So what’s easiest? Using Ghost to his advantage. And once Ghost gets him what he needs and he succeeds… then he goes back to being Simon. His intentions were pure but his actions were not. He found a way to make emotions become, as you said, an intelligence operation when all he really needed was to say something to Sarge. Anything. A single clue into his interest in her would have worked. But he doesn’t get that.

It will hit him at some point that what he did was bad and then he’ll strive for forgiveness. And it’s only then, when he completely understands, that Sarge will begin to accept his apologies. As they finally have some meaning to them.

Please rant for as long as you’d like. I love reading your insights, especially when they align with my intentions for the story. I’ve re-read this ask about ten times now and have waited to respond to give you a proper reply so I’d have some coherent thoughts put together. Because the amount of utter glee I felt when I first read this left me giddy and reeling.

Being one of your favourite tumblr accounts now is such a high honour and I am delighted to hear such a thing. And knowing that I’ve got people who are going to stick around once Somebody’s Watching Me is finished is wonderful to hear. And Pedro Pascal is very dreamy, love that man to death. But sticking around for EJ? For me? Im flattered!

Don’t ever apologise for not being able to shut up, especially for stuff like this. This brought me such joy when I read it and I loved how detailed it was. Hope you have a lovely day because this ask certainly brightened mine :)

Side note: people who say they didn’t expect the events of chapter 10… the series is named after a song about being paranoid that someone is stalking you for a reason. It’s been there since the beginning. Sure, it has several meanings. But the obvious one was there all along 😏😏

#ask #asks #lovely people #somebody’s watching me #somebody’s watching me musings

10 notes · View notes

jacqthehermit · 1 year

Photo

Art Summary and Art vs Artist 2022

2022 Art Ramblings and Other Shenanigans:

A.) I am not speed

Whenever artists wanna try something new to improve their art, we tend to make big drastic changes right away. This can be effective for others but not for everyone. As you can see, my art style is still the same as last year with minimal tweaks.

I decided that if I'm gonna make improvements, I'm gonna do it gradually instead of incorporating them all at once. This can be a big help in maintaining consistency. If the changes were small, we can easily remember and apply them on our next artwork.

“So is it effective? Did your art improve?”

It’s barely noticeable but yes it did. I like the direction in which my art progress is currently going. I am at the point where I actually like my finished work more than my sketch. You know that meme where artists like their sketch more than their finished work bec it looks better? I don’t feel like that anymore and that surely tells something haha.

B.) I failed successfully

Last year, I made a pseudo new years' resolution where I said "I hope I can draw my ships, anime and original stuff" since I mostly did Genshin. Well, I successfully drew my ships, anime and original stuff this year HOWEVER I made less videos lol.

I tried doing 1-2 artworks in between videos but sometimes the artwork took me longer to finish so I wasn't able to make video content afterwards. Another thing was the fact that I sorta dedicated some months tryna help save our country but in the end we failed miserably... Anyways! Let's not talk about that here.

Even though I made less videos, I managed to make 2 impactful videos which contributed a lot to my channel's growth this year. One of them is now my most viewed video.

C.) I wanna delete everything

Checking other artists' IG accounts makes me want to turn my account into an art only account. But then again I know I'll be having the urge to shitpost and post irl stuff every now and then so as much as I wanted to be one of those mysterious artists who only post/talk about their art, I can't lmao.

I feel like there's a lot of pressure on the artists who only post art related stuff bec people will always be expecting you to post art or even if they don't, you yourself might think they expect you to. And this kinda contributes to being burnt out somehow.

Whenever I am on the verge of deleting everything (except art) I remind myself that it's fine even if I ain't one of those cool artists accounts. I am human and I do other human activities too besides drawing. It's like taking a breather I guess.

"Make 2 accounts, one art and one personal"

Not everyone has the capacity to manage 2 accounts in one platform when you’re already managing other accounts on other platforms. Even if you did, most people who followed you for your art won't give a fuck about your personal one which kinda defeats the purpose haha.

I know this is not applicable to all artists, especially the professionals/veterans. But for hobbyists like me, maybe you should consider this. I am not forcing you to post personal stuff bec I know not everyone likes that. I'm just saying that it's important to emphasize every once in a while to your audience that you are human too and not just an art producing machine.

D.) I miss time traveling

Long time ago, during my Deviantart days, I used to type a bunch of shit in the description box of my artworks. Then came the Tumblr era where I continued to blog my heart out. When these platforms "died" and Twitter and IG migration happened, I slowly stopped doing this without me noticing it.

I still say things on Twitter but since there's a limit and making threads is a pain in the ass, I ain't as expressive as before. And these platforms (Twitter and IG) made me adapt to its "culture" of short tweets/captions or sometimes nothing at all, just pictures. Which was great! I mean not everyone needs to know your entire business on the interweb right lol.

But as time passed by, I began to realize that I love backreading (I dunno if this is the right term) whatever shit I used to talk about in the past. It's actually amusing no matter how cringe, happy or lonely it was. However, since transferring to Twt and IG, I can no longer go back to a certain period in my life to reminisce what the hell I was thinking, doing and feeling that time because I got nothing to backread and that made me kinda sad?

Even though I am still bad with words, I am trying my best to resurrect my old self here in IG (just less cringe and more careful this time). Don’t worry I am not going to make long posts everyday lmao.

"Nobody's gonna read all that"

True. HOWEVER my future self would and I think that's more important. It's the same as writing in your diary, you write for yourself first and foremost.

“Why don’t you just go back to Tumblr to blog”

My time on Tumblr has passed. Whatever good or bad memories I have there, I just wanna keep them as they are and no longer add some haha. I still love the platform and post my artworks there tho.

Conclusion:

Art progress and channel growth did great this year. Tho I fell short in terms of quantity of my video content, the quality compensated. I am not gonna make any pseudo new year’s resolutions this year. All I can say is I have a lot of ideas and I hope I can execute them.

Before I end this, I just wanna say hi to my future self. I know you’re reading this again for the nth time. Maybe you’re feeling sentimental or just bored as usual haha. Nevertheless I hope you’re doing well.

Happy New Year everyone! Stay safe and see you on my next video~

Jacq out.

P.S. Fuck AI generated images.

#genshin impact #kaeya #yae miko #venbara #yaeyato #naruto #jimin #jin #shaman king #xiaolumi #chilumi #jacqthehermit.drawing

12 notes · View notes

ghostly-cabbage · 1 year

Note

you guys got another one to read/reread alex rider bc of ttb.

i binged the show and am on the third book. the thing is i distinctly remember the end of scorpia and beginning of ark angel (alex getting shot nearly through the heart and then trying to escape something? while in recovery) but that is the only thing i remember after the first book. but it has been something like over 10 years since i read these. speaking of: i did not know there were so many books now?! and apparently anthony is still writing new ones?! though really hoping the 2000’s mmm 😐 moments will fade as the books go on… especially the fatphobia around smithers, and the low key racist stereotypes and side comments. i was questioning myself if i was just looking too far into it thinking that mrs stellenbosch was a transphobic character until the line “she looked like a man in drag” and went yep. fuck she is. now i don’t think any of this was malicious or even on purpose but rereading books you enjoyed as a kid now as an adult really reminds you how it was in the 2000s.

but the show is good and doesn’t have those problems. however, did anyone else notice it’s all the women in special operations that are concerned about alex? obviously mrs jones but i do like her character in the show. but also it was the women in wolf’s crew that spoke up about torturing alex. the other man didn’t say anything. but overall i am appreciating more diversity.

i have so much more to say about the show and the books but i should stop rambling. anyway, ttb is sooooo good and i am eagerly awaiting the next chapter and all those to come. alex rider and danny phantom is such a niche crossover but it works! and the scp stuff? absolutely perfect. you don’t happen to have links to any other scp x dp stuff do you? art or fics.

ps. idk wtf tumblr’s spacing is doing. i’m hoping it evens out when i send this ask and you don’t have to see the large, awkward, uneven gaps between paragraphs

Heheheheh welcome back to the Alex Rider brain worms!! I myself never read the books as a kid and it was totally Fin's doing pspsps'ing kkachi and I into AR (More specifically into an AR fanfic series called of Madness and Mammals, which I read all of without any canon knowledge and it was fantastic dfghjkl After that I started reading the books and then we watched the show!)

As for the 2000's moments..... yeah unfortunately there are some stuff in the early books that aren't great. Though Fin does tell me that the later books do in fact get better about that sorta thing. (i'm still not completely caught up) Some character details just feel so mean spirited and ignorant. I think it's something that was more run of the mill back then but also a symptom of a greater problem as a whole in the "spy fiction" genre. (From what I hear a lot of the Bond books and earlier movies are just so racist and sexist etc, and I think AR was meant to be a "Bond but for tween boys")

As far as the show goes, I think it does a really great job in fixing a lot of the issues the books had, both with plot, tone, and yes the diversity! I think what you pointed out about the women in the Department being sympathetic to Alex is really interesting and I hadn't realized that until you pointed it out! I think that, while Jones and Snake are more vocally sympathetic, I do think the people in the department all care about Alex in... different ways. Wolf's aside with Jones after the K-unit interrogation in Ep two I think proves that he was just as uncomfortable as Snake. I think that her speaking out and reaffirming his own feelings was just the push he needed so say "fuck our orders". There's also the fact that, even if people in the department seem concerned, just like in the books, they still never do anything to actually stop what's happening. They care, but they more or less remain complicit. Never pushing the envelope enough to endanger their own positions even if they know how wrong using a child is. Simple answer for this being that if they did there wouldn't be a show/book series so like asdfghjkl but it's fun to Think about! 👀 I'm so glad that you're enjoying TTB! It's been such a labour of love from the three of us! When we watched the AR show finally we were honestly so shocked. AT that point we'd already started panning TTB and so we were thrilled that the show was tonally so close to what were aiming for. The AR straight up dips into horror at times and its sense of atmosphere is so top notch. When we were approaching this crossover it really was the fact that Canon AR and SCP mesh well together that makes it work so well. It's very much the glue for this crossover! That and we started off characterizing TTB!Danny using a lot of my hcs for SWWDF!Danny and so pushing that even further in the horror/SCP direction was easier than trying to use a base-canon Danny. I think that trying to crossover Canon AR with Canon DP without it just being a fun crackfic would be pretty difficult. bc lets be honest they both can be so cheesy and ridiculous (affectionate) As for knowing of more dp x scp stuff, sadly I do not : (( I know awhile back there was people making a bunch of dp x scp memes, but those don't really have much plot per se. However, maybe if anyone does know they can slap them in the replies of this or I can make a new post to put out some feelers!

#crowcroaks #Thank you sp much for this ask!#the three of us have been rubbing our little evil hands together dragging more and more people into AR #asks #my writing #ttb #Alex Rider #Alex Rider show #Alex Rider crossover fic

13 notes · View notes

cecelianonymous22 · 27 days

Text

(TADC Spoilers!!)

A weird realization i made watching TADC ep 2 (cried my fucking eyes out) is that like

Hazbin and Digital Circus are both extremely Tumblr pieces of indie animation, but in such completely different ways

Hazbin kind of tries to appeal to every "Tumblr demographic" lets just say

The musical nerds, the queers, the people who need a Sexyman for every media they watch, people who like engaging in serious/controversial topics, etc etc

Which in itself isnt bad but as with a lot of things in Hazbin, it really wasnt carried out well

But with Digital Circus, the intended audience feels a lot more specialized yk?

Sure, it has bright colors with toy-inspired characters and silly hijinks, but the intended audience isnt for children or (staying on the whole Tumblr audience thing) isnt for the lucky younger teens who dont know what Amino is

But it doesnt try to welcome every corner of this platform, which is why there are negative reviews: because Digital Circus just isnt made for the majority of people

It's made for the "underdogs" so to speak, the kind of minorities that feel like their voices aren't heard

Sure the standard "Oh this is just a Tumblr cartoon" genre implies queerness, for one thing, which is in the TADC with Zooble (my beloved) and i love their constantly alternating pronouns

But more importantly, what kind of got to me the most, but it's made for the lonely

It's made for those who feel alienated because of themselves and/or their circumstances

Which i think is what is so great about the main character being an autistic woman, not just for the rep, but because Pomni's experience is so intrinsically neurodivergent. All despite the fact that paradoxically (to someone who isnt ND), she is the voice of reasonable confusion. She doesn't understand why everyone else is going along with Caine's shit when they all know they are just people trapped in a digital hellscape who don't remember their past lives.

Its a deeply existential thought, and I'm so glad that in the most recent episode, she has an outlet for all of this existential dread and panic. I cannot understate how moving it is to see Pomni not only pushing past her own problems, but actively utilizing them to help someone else struggling with the same sort of (essentially) nihilism

Not to mention the end of the episode (still trying to keep it vague because the ep just came out), where Pomni realizes that hey, she might not be alone

Idk man

It just speaks to me so much, especially because i have my own sense of deep-rooted existential dread that has gotten so much worse over the past few months

And also because it reminds me of 2-S from Ultrakill, special interest go brr

But yeah

Late night rambling

The hazbin comparison was mostly just because ive been really interested in watching Hazbin reviews lately, and just seeing how these two "Tumbler medias" compare in their themes and audience

Im gonna post this before i delete in the morning because i need to get over my fear of posting random shit on tumblr!! Thats whats its for!!

Anyway i want the gator keychain now

#tadc #digital circus #amazing digital circus #hazbin hotel #might private this later honestly #that or make a separate blog for my more professional things

1 note · View note

catboydan · 4 months

Note

tell me what the video Basically, I’m Gay means to you?

I think it’d be easier to list all the things it doesn’t mean to me than the things it does lmao

but fr, BIG was the video that got me here in the first place. I remember seeing it and all the hype—I knew who dnp were at the time, but all I’d be able to tell you at the time was it was a pretty big deal he was coming out. BIG is so well-written, well-presented, it drew me in right away. I clicked for the fact that a lot of people were talking about it; I came out of it wanting more.

So I got more. So I started with Dan’s vids, especially stuff similar to BIG like Trying to Live My Truth, and was pretty much hooked right away. Didn’t take long to end up on Phil’s channel too, +dnpg. Consumed it all like mad.

So I logged into my old unused tumblr for the first time in maybe 6 or 7 years and started following. That action alone has done me so so much good.

When BIG came out I was 20. I was knee-deep in the “trying to figure out who I am” shit. More specifically, I was trying desperately to ditch the younger version of myself, the fucking redditor since I was like 10, surrounded by misogyny, who “wasn’t like other girls” (even if I’d never say it aloud). I was trying to allow myself to be a woman in a world that despises and mocks anything woman-centric. I was coming out of a lifelong depression for the first time after a decade of almost total apathy, and frankly, I was learning how to handle emotions again.

BIG kicked me in the stomach. In a good way. I cried. I didn’t know this man and I cried. It helped me realize that I love learning about other peoples’ experiences, ones that I may never have, and how wonderful it is to be able to share our lives with the world in this way and learn about each other’s unique perspectives. I especially love (and relate to) the way Dan explains things so meticulously. I was rediscovering passion after having lost it for so long; BIG helped bring some of it back to me.

I got into the phandom here, something teenage me would have absolutely cringed at myself for. Even though I’d never dare judge anyone here for liking what they like, I didn’t know how to give myself that same grace. After what, five? years here, now I’ve finally been able to allow myself to enjoy what I like. The amazing community I’ve found myself in has been such a catalyst for this, and I’d never have gotten here without BIG.

So yeah. BIG’s pretty good. I used to watch it every day at work while prepping Pizza Hut pastas. I used to watch it as I tried to stave off a depressive episode, sitting in the bath eating candy, desperate for any happiness at all, before I got my ADHD diagnosis and meds. It never failed to make me laugh too cuz frankly, its funny moments are great. That bit where he looks at the tag of his jacket and it says HIGHLY FLAMMABLE gets me every single time. I live for dinof-related jokes. (And tbh, as aforementioned, being on reddit for so long, seeing shitty watercolour come so far puts a smile on my face too.)

idk. This is rambly and I’m not sure if I got everything across, but that’s because I kind of love that video so much it’s hard to contain it in one little post. Thanks for the ask, anon (and possibly the other asks recently too, if you’re the same anon) :)

#val comes out of hiding #anon #ask #Basically I’m gay #basically im a better person because if the video and the chain of events after #the phandom also got me reading fic for the first time which is was so associated with cringey teenage girls to me as a teenager #I’d NEVER have let myself do something so looked down upon by the society around me yknow?#like I was not proud to be a girl. at all #so if you’re a woman in the phandom I kind of love you btw. for helping me be me 👉👈

1 note · View note

kaghoeyama · 3 years

Text

three of cups.

featuring: eren jaeger, armin arlert, afab reader.

word count: 5.5k

summary: you, eren and armin have been best friends for ages. there’s always been an underlying tension between the three of you, until that tension finally snaps.

content warning: smut, college au, post-timeskip characters, alcohol consumption (characters are tipsy but not inebriated), threesome, mlm, mutual pining, voyeurism, thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), slight edging, use of good boy/good girl, masturbation, cumplay

a/n: uhh so i was horny and this happened. pls be kind this is like my first fanfic ever (also english is not my first language so if you spot any mistakes feel free to let me know).

update: so apparently tumblr took out a whole ass paragraph after the “keep reading” and then repeated two different paragraphs twice?? i’ve seen people trying to fix this by adding asterisks so i’m doing the same. sorry about that lol.

18+ CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

So loud, you think.

You can almost feel the room vibrate with beat of the music, your steps naturally adapting to the rhythm as you make your way through a crowd of college students in various states of dishevelment. A smile comes to your lips. The whole place smells of alcohol and sweat and the floor is sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at the chaos; the year had been brutal for a lot of you and with finals finally behind you, no one was gonna miss the chance to loosen up and just have fun, yourself included. Which was exactly what brought you to make this little trip across the room, eyes fixed on your objective.

He’s leaning against the wall, his golden hair making it easier for you to spot him in the crowded room. His eyes are trained on his phone as he mindless scrolls down with his thumb, so you’re not too surprised when he doesn’t notice you straight away, even when you’re standing right in front of him.

You take a moment to take in his delicate features, his skin turned to porcelain by the bright light coming from his phone; the alcohol makes you bold enough to trail a hand up his arm and rest on his cheek, successfully shifting his attention to you. His face relaxes in a smile when he sees you, but his eyebrows are still raised in surprise at your sudden closeness; he opens his mouth to greet you but you’re quicker, “Armin, would you please let me kiss you?”, your gaze keeping him pinned against the wall.

“I- what?”

You relish in the way his breath catches in his throat, and you certainly don’t miss the flush that comes to his face or the way his eyes drop to your lips.

“It’s for a dare… please?” your answer comes so innocent to his ears and he tries not to think at how pretty your plea sounded, even prettier than he’d fantasized so many times now.

“I- I mean, yeah, sure” he stammers; you chuckle when close the distance between you, his pretty blue eyes still confused as you press your lips against his.

The kiss comes out of the blue for him, yet you don’t miss the way his hands instinctively grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him. You hum into the kiss, your body suddenly so warm as he moves his lips against yours; he’s so pliant, all you had to do was ask and now he’s all over you, his grip keeping you flush against his body. Your fingers slip between his golden locks and when you lightly tug at them his hold grows tighter, his lips parting with a low moan. You swear you hear him whimper as you slip your tongue past his lips, taking control of the kiss as you explore his mouth, warm and wet and oh his hands are gripping your ass now, and you moan into the kiss as you feel his erection poking at your hip.

“The dare said ‘kiss’ but if you two wanna get a room…” Sasha’s loud voice somehow reaches you from across the room and you pull back from the kiss, a string of spit connecting still connecting your mouths. He’s panting, mouth still parted, and you can’t help but stare at his pink lips, slightly puffed and still shiny from the kiss.

Without thinking you brush a thumb against his lower lip, “so pretty” you murmur.

Armin swallows around nothing, and when your eyes meet his pupils are all blown out, pleading, almost begging you to close the distance once again. Fuck he looks so flustered, heat pooling between your legs as you wonder how he’d look if you took his cock in your mouth, if you could make him so lost in pleasure that his smart little brain couldn’t form any coherent thoughts.

You feel his arm around your shoulders before you see him, his usual scent of soap and lemon shampoo now mixed with a hint of smoke. You rest your head against his shoulder, your body craving physical contact after the kiss you’d shared with the blond. “Hi ’ren” you murmur against his shirt, dazed eyes looking up at him and then shifting to Armin. Your kiss was enough to make his brain fuzzy but now, with Eren’s arm wrapped around him and his body so close, he felt completely overwhelmed.

Eren pressed a kiss over your hair and pulled you and Armin even closer. “You shouldn’t keep all the fun to yourselves, don’t you know that sharing is caring?” he whispered, loud enough for both of you to hear through the music.

You can’t believe that cheesy line sent a shiver through your body. You figure it’s because of Eren.

“Maybe we should make use of that tequila bottle in our dorm room, what do you say Armin?” he adds, the blond choking out a soft affirmation. You doubt your sober self would have done that, but you were tipsy enough not to care when you took both their hands, interlacing your fingers with their own, a teasing smile gracing your lips. “Then what are we waiting for?”

You feel strangely calm as you walk down the hallway. It’s definitely quieter than the party, and your attention is quickly drawn from one dorm room to another, where you catch glimpses of people smoking and drinking to the sound of at least ten different playlists.

Again, you smile. For the third year now you’re witnessing how your otherwise rigorous and law abiding campus turns into a huge frat party in the weekend after finals. You don’t know if it’s the warm weather or the fact most common spaces are surprisingly clean by monday that makes everyone look the other way, either way you’re thankful. You close your eyes for a moment as you walk, slightly overwhelmed by the music and the loud chatter and the drink you had at the party, your brain lost in a pleasant buzz.

A light squeeze to your hand brings you back to earth. Your head turns to your left, eyes slowly opening to meet a pair of blue ones.

“Are you okay?” Armin asks softly, the tiniest hint of concern slipping past his lips. You wait a beat before addressing his question, choosing to look at him instead. You note that his cheeks are almost as pink as his lips, and that his blue t-shirt makes his eyes sparkle; you ignore how your stomach flips when you realize he’d been holding your hand since you’d left the party.

“I’m great,” you say as you shift closer to him “I’m in a good mood actually.”

You catch Eren’s eyes leaving you as he turns his head forward and keeps walking in front of you. You let your gaze travel from his head – you loved that half bun he kept his hair in more than you should – to his broad shoulders, entranced by the way his black t-shirt stretches over his muscular back.

You must have missed the part where he stopped in front of the dorm room, because you end up bumping against that back.

“You’re completely out of it” Eren teases with a grin.

“No, I’m not” you retort, “as I said, I’m in a good mood.”

The look he gives you is playful. “You call it good mood, I call it being drunk.”

“I had literally just one drink, there’s no way anyone could get drunk from that.”

“Depends on how strong the drink is.”

“Will you shut up?”

You’re still bickering as you enter the room, Armin rolling his eyes at the two of you with a fond smile. Once Eren shuts the door though, you all fall quiet.

The only light came from the blue led Armin had put on his side of the room, casting a glow over your faces that was almost ethereal. There’s a weird tension, a nervous feeling gripping your stomach and making you tingle with anticipation. You’d been alone with them in that very room more times than you could count, cramming for tests, watching a movie or simply hanging out, but tonight something was different. You sit next to Armin on his bed, eyebrows knitting together as you quickly try to analyse that feeling.

The three of you had been friends for ages, since you all attended the same elementary school and lived down the same street. You had bonded with Armin first, his quiet and intelligent personality matching well with yours. You remember fondly the warm afternoons in his backyard, grass tickling your skin as he showed you his new ocean life books and you rambled about ancient Egypt, Greek myths or whatever you were fixating on at the moment.

Eren on the other hand – at first you couldn’t stand him. You only knew him as ‘Armin’s other friend’, but he was such a loud and hot headed kid, you’d always found his attitude too off-putting to even start a conversation, and you were pretty sure he didn’t like you either. After some pushing from Armin though, you’d actually tried to get to know each other; much to your surprise, you found out you had a lot of interests in common. Eventually, you’d even come to admire how passionate he got about the things he cared about, how strong his ideals were, and with time his impulsivity left room to a much more calculated approach.

After all these years, the three of you were still as thick as thieves; you’d become so comfortable around each other that people always assumed you were either dating one of them. You’d always brush it off with a laugh, but now you wonder if it’s normal for friends to behave like that around each other. It was the little things at first; lingering touches, wondering eyes, teasing comments. Then Eren’s hands all over you every time you wore a pretty dress, or Armin’s obvious erection that time you and Eren were messing around at the pool; even your friends had noticed how close you were – and never missed a chance to tease you about it.

This is stupid, you conclude. They’re your oldest and closest friends, you won’t allow your attraction to them – at least you’re admitting it’s there – to make things weird.

You move to get the tequila you know they keep hidden in the closet; maybe that will shake the awkwardness away. You take a long sip before handing the bottle to the blond, alcohol still burning in your throat as you lay on your back, head resting on his lap.

You feel him still beneath you; when you look at him, his flustered expression is clear despite the dim lit room – before you can catch yourself, you wonder if he’s still hard from before.

Eren looks at the both of you on Armin’s bed. You’ve closed your eyes and your head is lightly nodding along with some music coming from the hallway, the beat muffled by the closed door. He watches Armin, a fond smile dancing on his lips as he can almost hear the mental pep talk the blond gives himself before raising a hand to play with your hair. You hum at that, eyes slowly opening as you turn your head towards him.

“Eren, come closer” you say, stretching out an arm as if to reach him.

“And why would I do that” he answers with a playful smile on his lips.

You raise your eyebrow, smiling back to him. “If you insist on staying over there, I guess Armin and I are really gonna keep all the fun to ourselves, isn’t that right Armin.” You say lightly, rising from his lap to lay against his side, your body wrapping around his arm; his hand ends up between your closed thighs and somehow you manage not purr in his ear as you rest your head on his shoulder, both of you now facing Eren.

When Armin speaks, you don’t miss how his playful tone hides a hint of malice, eyes fixed on the brunette, “oh I’m sure he wouldn’t mind just watching if we were actually having fun.”

Eren laughs at that, his voice dropping lower.

“True” he admits calmly, as if the thought hadn’t brought him to several orgasms through the years, “but right now I think I’d rather join.”

And he does, sitting close to your other side.

You wish that type of exchange wasn’t as common as it was between the three of you. You also wish it didn’t send a wave of arousal trough your body every single time.

You watch him as he leans toward you to grab the bottle from Armin’s hand, taking a sip of the amber liquor. Your eyes follow a drop of alcohol at the corner of his mouth, unconsciously tightening your hold on the blond as Eren’s tongue comes out to bring the drop past his lips.

In that moment, Armin decides he’s had enough. He’s way too turned on to let all this teasing slide; if the three of you really are as attracted to each other as he thinks, this was the time he was gonna do something about it. So when he speaks, he does with a purpose.

“Is it weird that I’ve kissed both my best friends?” his question sounds so innocent, he even lets out a calculated chuckle to feign embarrassment.

Eren tilts his head toward him, throwing him a curious glance “You still remember that? Must have been one hell of a kiss huh” he smirks.

Armin knows he’s teasing, and that he clearly remembers too, but he can’t help the pink blush that colours his cheeks as his thoughts rush back to that night.

It happened first semester of junior year, after Sasha’s ‘small’ housewarming party had quickly turned into a full blown party. As the music got louder and more and more people filled the tiny flat, Jean, all tipsy and bright eyed, had gathered all of you in Sasha’s room to play spin the bottle – most of you had booed him, but you’d followed him anyway.

After watching you awkwardly peck Connie on the lips and Mikasa blush violently as Sasha took her face between her hands and gave her a loud smooch, it was his turn to play. He gave the bottle a spin and almost choked on his spit when it landed on Eren. He remembers everyone cheering as he tried to stop his face from flushing red, looking everywhere but at Eren; that’s how his eyes landed on you, quiet where your friends were loud, your eyes focused on him in a way that was almost daring.

He followed your gaze as it moved towards Eren, finally making eye contact with the boy. His attempts look composed failed miserably when Eren, a lazy smirk spreading on his lips, beckoned him with his hand to move closer.

“I- uh we don’t have to…” he choked out.

Eren’s smirk grew wider, “It’s just a game Armin, what are you scared of?”

Armin couldn’t tell if his tone was soft or mocking, either way he felt as he had something to prove now.

He stood on his knees and crawled on the floor as Eren mirrored him, ignoring the way his stomach flipped as they met in the middle of the circle, so close he could feel his breath over his lips.

“What’s taking so long?” Jean said from somewhere behind him, “it’s not like you haven’t done this before” he teased.

Armin wanted to turn back and state that no, they had not actually done that before – he’d probably sound way more disappointed than he should – but before he could even open his mouth he felt a hand on his cheek; his eyes flickered back to Eren’s green ones, only to find them trained on his lips as the brunette sealed the gap between them.

Eren’s lips felt so impossibly soft again his, he tasted like vodka and something sweet he couldn’t recognise and Armin couldn’t really thing about anything as he lost himself in the kiss. The hand on his cheek moved through his hair and Eren pulled slightly, just enough to make Armin gasp against his lips, taking the chance to slide his tongue against his lower lip and into his mouth. Armin broke the kiss at that, a whimper leaving his lips because he wanted, needed more, but the feelings building up inside him – and the arousal making his pants tighter – were sending him in a slight panic.

He barely registered his friends’ loud noises as he sat back on his spot, but he didn’t miss the way Eren winked at him and licked his lips, green eyes boring into his blue ones. Armin struggled to act like his normal self rather than some teenager who had just kissed his long time crush. He desperately tried to focus on something, anything but Eren and his stupid lips and stupid grin and stupidly pretty eyes right in front of him, and that’s how his eyes found you again.

You had watched the whole scene with an interest you hoped went unnoticed by your friends. You sure hoped Mikasa, sat right next to you, had missed the way your breath hitched in your throat as you watched the blond gasp under Eren’s grip, heat coursing through your body and pooling between your legs. When Armin’s blue eyes found you, flustered, with half lidded eyes and teeth sunk in your bottom lip, you’d lowered your head in shame.

Eren rests his head again the wall and closes his eyes, as to enhance the memory.

It had been over a year ago, yet he remembered Armin’s sweet lips against his, the small noises he unconsciously let out going straight to his groin.

He remembered your face, eyes glossy with desire as you watched them part, flustered almost as much as Armin, as if you’d been the one kissing him instead, and oh had he wanted to kiss you. Had it been just the three of you in that room, he would have grabbed your face and bruised those pretty lips, forcing Armin’s sweet taste in your mouth.

He’d long given up the guilt that came with fantasising about his closest friends, any uncomfortable feeling quickly replaced by pleasure every time he wrapped his hand around his cock. At first it was just one of you under him, on top of him; soon enough he’d started picturing both of you on your knees, eyes bright and pleading, pink tongue hanging out of your mouths as you wait for him to paint your pretty faces with his cum.

“So who’s the best kisser?” you ask, your warm breath against Armin’s ear making him shiver.

“I can’t- You both… I’m not gonna answer that.” Armin manages to sound flustered when he answers.

Eren looks at him. “I would” he states nonchalantly, “but I don’t have all the materials to make my choice.” His tone drops to a low murmur, green eyes slowly shifting to you.

Armin tries to hold back a smile, both of you reacting exactly as he anticipated.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, it’s beat so loud you’re sure both of the boys can hear it; when you speak, you desperately try to keep your voice steady.

“Then god forbid you make an uniformed decision.”

Eren is straight up grinning at this point; he grabs your wrists and tugs you closer, pulling you on his lap. You balance yourself on his shoulders as his hands graze your bare thighs up and down, your skirt bunching up to your hips and barely covering your panties.

When your eyes meet, you’re shocked at how softly he’s looking at you. “I’ve been waiting a while for this” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper, and you swear you can feel him stroking your cheek before burying his hands your hair and drawing you closer. He’s so warm all pressed up against you, so sweet when his lips ghost against yours before finally kissing you.

You’re slow to respond at first, too lost in how right it feels to have him so close and all over you, but you’re quick to part your lips for him, his tongue sliding against yours; he tastes of alcohol and you get drunk on it, a small moan leaving your throat and getting lost in the kiss. You whimper as you feel him groping your ass and push you even closer. He’s kissing you like a man starved, devouring you, the intensity making you feel light headed. You break apart from the kiss with a sigh, head falling on his shoulder, barely registering what you’re doing as you lightly grind against his hardening cock.

Eren groans as he tugs your hair so that you can look at him, his dark pupils swallowing up almost any trace of green.

“So needy… how many times have you thought about this?” he asks, a teasing smile on his lips as his fingers play with the hem of your skirt.

You look away from him, cheeks heating up; you don’t want to admit how many times you’ve cummed on your fingers with their names on your lips, but you don’t think you have a choice.

His head dips lower to press an open mouth kiss to the column of your throat, “Answer baby, there’s no need to be shy; we’re all friends here.”

You suck in your breath, voice embarrassingly shaky “so- so many times, w- with both of you” you confess.

Armin groans at your words, a curse slipping past his lips. “We- we could have done this so long ago” he mumbles, eyes fixed on you as he palms himself through his jeans. You feel so hot under his gaze, so wanted, you never want his eyes to leave your body.

Eren steals your attention by sucking a purple mark at the base of your neck; you bite back a moan as he licks at the bruise, heat pooling in your panties. he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“This won’t do” he says softly against the shell of your ear “how can Armin hear all your pretty noises if you hold them back?”

Before you can choke out an apology, his lips go back on your neck, finding that sweet spot below your ear that makes you whimper. You’re trembling as he sucks another bruise on your skin and this time you don’t hold back, soft moans leaving your lips as your hands grips his hair, tugging it loose and fawning all over his shoulders.

Eren pulls back, admiring his work as you try to steady your breath.

“Good girl” he murmurs, “let us hear you.”

You shudder at his words. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, and he’s barely put his mouth on you. You can feel wet slick gathering in your panties and you shift to straddle one of his thighs, grinding hard to relieve the tension as your head falls back, a loud moan leaving your lips.

Two strings of low curses reach your ears, and you barely register Armin slipping a hand under his pants as Eren pulls you down on him again, the knee you have trapped between his legs pressing against his hard cock.

“Fuck, baby you wanna cum like that? Riding my thigh?” he pants, slightly bouncing his leg up to meet your movements, successfully drawing another moan out of your lips.

He brings a hand your face, almost reverent as his thumb grazes your lower lip, just like you’d done with Armin barely an hour ago. Your tongue darts out and licks the tip of his thumb before wrapping your lips around it, sucking slightly as you nod, eager.

Eren parts his lips, eyes glued to your mouth. He can’t believe he finally has you – both of you – as he wants you, as he’s pictured so many times; he wonders if he’ll come undone in his pants like a teenager, as you add pressure on his throbbing cock with each grind of your hips. He slips his finger from your warm lips, rushing his hands under your skirt to take off your panties.

When you finally readjust yourself on his thick thigh, you almost sob at the feeling of your bare, sensitive cunt against the rough material of his pants. Before you can resume your movements, he lifts up the piece of fabric, dangling it in front of your face.

“Look at this” he murmurs, “completely soaked” his voice trailing off as an idea suddenly forms in his mind.

He turns to Armin, and fuck, he feels his cock twitch at the sight. The blond is laying against the headboard, legs spread apart; he has a hand wrapped tight at the base of his hard, leaking cock, his pretty face all scrunched up in pleasure.

Armin’s cheeks heat up when he notices Eren’s eyes on him, but it doesn’t stop him from slowly stroking his cock, trying to delay his orgasm as much as possible.

“’Min, you think you could use these?” Eren asks, dark eyes dropping between the blond’s legs. Armin’s eyes widen at the request, his brain shutting down for a moment as he looks at the drenched panties in his hand.

“What? I- I-…” he looks at you, dazed, half lidded eyes boring into his blue ones as you rub slowly on eren’s thigh. “Y- yes please” he chokes out, shame reddening the tip of his ears.

“So polite… what a good boy” Eren purrs, his deep voice making Armin twitch in his own hand.

He takes the panties, the beads of your arousal thick on the side your cunt was, and he wraps the fabric around his cock. You watch with wide eyes, struggling to believe that sweet innocent Armin would ever give you such a lewd sight; you’re itching to lean over and kiss, lick, bite every inch of his body, but Eren’s grip on your waist keeps you in place.

Armin moans loudly as your slick smears all over his shaft. He keeps rubbing at himself with your panties trapped between his hand and his cock and how the fuck is this already topping every sexual experience I’ve ever had he manages to think. His eyes trail up and down your body, Eren’s body, and he doesn’t even notice how much his strokes speed up, hips bucking desperately into his own hand.

“Slow down baby or you’ll miss all the fun” Eren’s voice is as soft as the hand he puts on his leg to appease him. “If you behave, y/n will let you cum on her, right?” he says, sneaking a hand between your legs and sliding two fingers between your dripping folds.

“Ah- ye- yes Armin, wherever you want” you squeak, arching your back as Eren slips his fingers inside you. You feel inebriated as he slowly starts pumping, his fingertips massaging your walls, so slowly you want to cry. You wail when his fingers curl over your sweet spot, a hand gripping your waist to stop you from fucking yourself against his hand.

“Please ‘Ren, oh god, please, faster” you sob, high pitched moans slipping past your lips before you even realise it.

Instead of listening to you, Eren pulls his fingers out and slides them up to your clit, collecting your slick; you whimper when he retracts his hand from your cunt, pressing down on his thigh once again to get more friction. When your clit brushes against a wrinkle in his pants your eyes roll inside your head, orgasm so close you can taste it, but apparently Eren has other plans.

“Not yet baby, hold it for a bit longer, will you?” he purrs close to your ear, his mouth peppering wet kisses on your neck.

“Please a-ah Eren I c-can’t-” your words come out as broken sobs but you’ve long stopped caring, your brain filled with nothing but pleasure.

When Eren looks at your face you look absolutely wrecked, sweat shining on your forehead and cheeks red from the strain, chest heaving as quick pants come out of your parted lips. “

Armin, come here.” He says, hungry eyes still locked on yours. The blond obeys and shuffles closer to the two of you, your panties forgotten on the bed.

“You’ve been so good I think you deserve a reward” he says, as he pushes the glistening fingers he’d just pulled out of your cunt straight into Armin’s pretty mouth.

The blond moans at your taste, both hands coming to grab Eren’s wrist and push his fingers further in his mouth, choking slightly when they hit the back of his throat. Eren watches him in a trance, mesmerised by his blown eyes and the drop of spit that dribbles from the corner of his mouth. He wants to fucking ruin him. But not yet.

He takes his hand from the blond’s grasp – the whimper that leaves his mouth almost makes him cum on the spot. Eren lifts you from his lap, ignoring your pout as he places you right beside Armin.

“Sit still for me” he says as he slowly palms his cock before unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down with his boxers. You hear Armin suck in his breath as Eren’s hard cock slaps against his stomach, your own eyes widening at the sight; in length he almost matches the blonde, but the girth is just… fuck. Even dwarfed by his huge hand it’s almost intimidating, a thick vein reaching his pink leaking tip.

Eren takes his time as he pumps himself, eyes fixed on both of you; he drinks in your pretty, desperate faces, hands clutching the bedsheets as you try not to squirm under his gaze.

“Where do you wanna cum ’Min?” Eren’s question snaps him off a stupor, eyes leaving his groin to settle on your face.

You’re surprised Armin can blush more than he already is as he stutters that he wants to cum on you tits. You smirk as you quickly take off your top and unhook your bra, lust clouding you senses as you lay on the bed, head towards Eren as you motion Armin to straddle your waist. His eyes flicker to Eren and you miss the brunette’s nod before Armin comes on top of you, knees straddling your thighs.

Armin can’t believe just how fucking pretty you look under him, naked except for that cute pleated skirt you’re somehow still wearing. His hand trails up your stomach to squeeze your tits, fingers playing with your nipples as he pumps himself faster.

You feel Eren’s hand cradle your face, “touch yourself” he says, and you do just that.

With your skirt bunched up at your waist and your fingers quickly circling your clit, Armin doesn’t stand a chance; he leans forward, a hand planted on the bed as he cums on your tits with loud moan and your name on his lips, warm liquid painting your heaving chest.

You watch the blond leaning back against the headboard, desperately trying to catch his breath; you lock eyes with him, toungue wetting your lips as you bring a hand up to play with the mess he made on you, getting high on the look of pure defeat on his face as you take your cum coated fingers back to your clit.

“Oh fuck” Eren can’t believe how wrecked his own voice sounds “who would have thought you two would be such dirty sluts” he pants, his hand sliding faster and faster against his cock.

You moan at his words “’Ren p-please can- can I-”

“Cum.” He orders, and you obey right away.

The sounds that leave your lips are nothing short of pornographic, your body shaking and twitching in pleasure, mouth agape and head thrown back as white lights explode behind your eyelids, any coherent thought wiped out of your brain. Eren chokes out a curse at the sight, soft, high pitched groans echoing in the room until he finally cums with a broken moan, the liquid coating his hand and making a mess on his clothes.

It takes a while before any of you even attempts to move; silence falls in the room once again, except for your labored pants mixed with the music still playing in the hallway.

Eren is the first to get up and head for the bathroom. By the time you’ve all taken a shower and settled back on Armin’s bed, no one has still said a word. You feel anxiety settle low in your stomach, its grip speeding up your heartbeats.

Did you ruin everything? Is this the end of your friendship?

“So who’s the best kisser?”

Armin’s voice comes out tired and rough, but it puts a halt to the doubts swirling in your mind.

The breathy chuckle leaving Eren’s mouth sends a wave of relief through your body; “I’m sorry ’Min but y/n is definitely winning this one.” You smile as you feel his hand ghosting over your spine.

“Yeah, figured.”

The blond curls up against you and you’re still smiling.

The bed is way too small for the three of you and the night breeze coming from the window does little to cool you down, but you’ve never been better, a warm feeling spreading from where your bodies connect with each other.

As slumber takes you, you hope they’re still gonna be there when you wake up.

1K notes · View notes

ynscrazylife · 3 years

Note

Can I please please request one where Natasha and Yelena have another younger sister (Y/N) and she gets badly injured and her older sisters are hysterical since they’re afraid to lose one they love the most

A Race Against Time | romanoff fam fic

Summary: Natasha and Yelena do their best to help their hurt younger sister.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/twitalents

“Everybody alright?” Natasha asked as Alexei and Melina approached her and Yelena. The redhead herself definitely hadn’t gotten out of the whole ordeal without injuries. In fact, from Dreykov punching her to the fight against the Widows, and the fight against Antonia (not to mention the injuries from the past few days that she hadn’t taken care of), she was in some pain. However she didn’t worry about herself, she knew she’d be fine. She always was.

Natasha glanced over and spotted Y/N making her way over to them, too. From the distance, Natasha couldn’t tell that she was limping and was very hurt.

“I am clearly injured,” Melina deadpanned, causing Natasha to look back over and send her adoptive mother a smile as an apology. With a quick glance, Natasha could tell that she’d be okay, she’d just need a cast on that ankle and-

Thump.

The sound, accompanied by Yelena’s loud gasp and yelp, broke through Natasha’s thoughts and caused her to whip around suddenly. The sight her eyes landed on instantly sent what felt like an ice shard plunging into her chest. No. No.

By the time she snapped out of it, Yelena was already by Y/N’s unconscious figure, which the thump must have been - her plummeting to the ground - and Alexei was helping Melina over as fast as he could. Natasha sped past them and dropped to her knees, her brain wired to already be processing the situation and formulating a plan, while she lightly stopped Yelena’s wrist to prevent her from going to shake Y/N.

“You don’t move someone who is unconscious unless necessary - it could injure them,” she breathed out. Yelena, who could see that her older sister was in autopilot mode, sat back and let her do her thing, opting to look up at her parents, instead.

Both their eyes were glued to Y/N. Alexei’s eyebrows crinkled and, after taking a big breath, muttered (just loud enough for them to hear), “There’s blood on you.”

Natasha’s eyes snapped down and sure enough, her knees were bloodied. She quickly looked up only to see blood beginning to come from Y/N’s stomach where she had fallen on her side. Closing her eyes for a moment to allow herself to think, Natasha carefully and gently pulled up Y/N’s shirt, only to see an open gash in the shape of the Widow hourglass.

“Wha-?” She said, barely forming a word, and Yelena leaned over to see.

She immediately began shaking her head and pushed Y/N onto her back. “I-I know what this is, I think. I remember hearing about a weapon that’d leave that mark,” she rambled out.

Melina peered over Natasha’s shoulder and when she saw it, her face went pale. “That-that weapon, it ejects a blast that makes that mark when it meets the skin. It was made as a precaution in case any of the Widows went rogue - it was made years ago. But only a few were made because they were so confident in themselves. It-it goes along with a process they constructed to re-brainwash the Widows. The blast gets under her skin, in her body, with a chemical that’s in it, and that chemical starts the brainwashing process,” she explained.

A park of hope entered Yelena’s eyes. “So she won’t be fully brainwashed?” She asked.

“Not without the rest of the procedure,” Melina began, but then her eyes widened when she remembered something and horror quickly flashed across her face. “But if the process isn’t completed within a certain time period, the chemical will wear off its brainwashing effects and instead will start hurting her . . . A lot . . . But I have an antidote-” her tone sped up now, “-It’s back at the house. We need to get her there.”

Natasha and Yelena nodded, both having gone through a great wave of emotions throughout Melina’s words. Yelena, while racked with worry, still remained hopeful, and Natasha did her best to be, too, but her tears were drying and she was sniffling.

“The jet is-” Alexei began to say, when the sound of the engines of cars rapidly approaching cut him off.

Natasha looked over. “Shit, Ross,” she said, regretting even tipping him off to their location in the first place.

Melina bit her lip. “You girls go. Take Y/N home. The antidote is labelled ‘Ant-Widow,’,” she told them firmly.

Yelena’s lips parted to protest, not wanting to split up, but catching Natasha picking up Y/N out of the corner of her eye stopped her. She nodded, rising to her feet.

“We’ll distract them. They won’t want anything to do with us when they realize you’re not here,” Melina insisted.

Natasha sent her a look that she could only hope was conveying everything she wanted it to. A million thoughts whizzed about in her mind, none making room for each other. She wondered, would they leave them alone? Or would they be taken into questioning? Shouldn’t she be the one facing Ross - since she called him there? Is Y/N going to be okay? Will they get there in time?

By the way Melina looked back at her, Natasha thought that her message had been received. There was no time to go over the plan any longer, if they stayed even a couple more seconds they’d get caught by Ross, whose army of cars headed to a halt.

Natasha bolted off in the jet’s direction, Yelena quick on her heels. They rushed inside and Natasha took her time to gently put Y/N down before going to the pilot seat. Yelena sat down in the back, wanting to watch over their little sister.

Neither of them said anything until Natasha had gotten them off the ground and away from the field. Yelena could hear the engine whirring and she knew that Natasha was going as fast as this aircraft could probably go.

“Natasha,” she said, her voice small and hesitant, reminding Natasha of her own self when she was younger. The redhead braced herself for her sister’s words. “Do you think we’ll get there in time?”

Natasha let out a slow yet steady breath, fighting back the urge to tell her not to say that. She wondered the same thing, and she hated it. She didn’t answer, though, because she didn’t want to lie. She didn’t know herself, and she also hated that.

Yelena looked down in defeat when she didn’t get an answer and continued watching Y/N. She couldn’t stop herself from worrying and when she spotted the other injuries — bruises, cuts, scrapes — littering her body, she got up and went to the back.

The blonde grabbed the med kit they had stored and went back, quickly opening it up and getting everything she needed. First, bandages. Yelena put pressure on the wound even though she knew it wouldn’t bleed out, and a twinge of guilt hit her when Y/N moved and groaned unconsciously.

She then wrapped up Y/N’s stomach and tended to her other injures, every so often glancing at Natasha, who she could see by the way she was sitting up straight that she was tense. Upset. Worried. Yelena had to admit she was feeling those same things but busied herself by taking care of Y/N.

This carried on and they were about ¾ there when everything shifted. Y/N, who had been mostly quiet throughout the journey, suddenly rolled onto her side, eyes opening with a startled gasp.

Natasha frantically looked up at Yelena and the latter jumped to resolve the situation. Gently, she put her hands on her younger sister’s shoulders and tried to turn her onto her back, but Y/N fought her off and scurried back, against the wall.

“Y/N,” Yelena said, slowly putting her hands up in a “surrender” gesture.

The younger one shook her head as tears began to flow down her cheeks. “It-it hurts,” she got out, wrapping her arms around herself.

Yelena sent Natasha a frightened, desperate look and the glint in Natasha’s eyes held tears in them. “I can’t go any faster!” She cried out in frustration, her anger at her helplessness beginning to grow.

Yelena turned back to Y/N. “Take deep breaths with me, okay?” She said, and took a couple deep breaths to show her. It took Y/N a second, but she followed along. However, the pain didn’t take a break for long, and quickly came crashing back to her, like a magnet.

She let out another cry, but this one filled with that much more anguish, desperation, a pure rage from wanting it to be over, a rage that nearly caused her to vomit. Y/N leaned forward, hoping that there was something - anything - that could relieve this pain for even just a second. The warmth she was soon filled with from her older sister’s arms wrapping around her and pulling her close did nothing to soothe pain, but she found someone to have a steady grip on, someone to hold.

This continued on. In every cry let out, Yelena could’ve sworn each one was louder than the last. She didn’t know what to do so she did the only thing she could and stayed there. After a particularly loud cry from Y/N, Yelena couldn’t stop a “Natasha!” from escaping.

“I’m trying!” She shouted over the engine and over Y/N, doing her best to blink away the tears and focus, but everytime she was on the brink of it, something tore her away.

After what felt like what could only be described as eons, Natasha managed to touch down in the same spot she had just a day ago. The moment they made contact, she leapt out of her seat, nearly tumbling to the floor, and practically fell against the door.

“Stay with her,” was all she said to Yelena before pushing all her weight against the door and breaking off into a run towards the house.

Natasha had run fast before. To escape Antonia, on countless SHIELD missions, and even to beat Sam in a race, but none amounted to this. The mountains and trees whipped by so fast that she felt like she was in a race car and it made her head spin. Nonetheless (and she thanked her extensive training for that), Natasha’s stamina held out and she ran through the house, tripping over things and knocking others over, until she reached Melina’s office.

At first, everything looked like a normal office space for a normal business woman, but the underlying science and spy secrecy that she knew had to be inside was revealed. Cabinets upon cabinets filled with vials upon vilas and files upon files. She scoured the entire room and nearly dropped the green-filled file when she saw its label. This was it.

A moment of victory passed until Natasha remembered the weight of the situation and she got back on her feet, running like the wind, and leaving behind the office looking like some raccoons had gotten inside.

By the time she reached the top of the hill, Natasha could make out the outline of Yelena carrying Y/N (who was draped over her like a curtain, by the way) toward her.

They met in the middle and Yelena put Y/N down, the older sisters kneeling beside her. Y/N was half-conscious at this point and Natasha moved at the speed of light to get the vial lid off. “She was getting worse, I couldn’t wait!” Yelena yelled.

When she got it open, Natasha pushed it towards Y/N’s lips. “Y/N, honey, c’mon, you gotta drink,” she encouraged, hand trembling as Y/N attempted to fight her off. It was only Yelena running her hands through her hair that calmed her down, and she took a small sip of the vial’s contents at first before gulping it down.

When she stopped squirming and seemed to no longer be in pain, instead falling into a peaceful sleep, that’s when both Natasha and Yelena had calmed down. It had been a rollercoaster, but they did it, and she was okay. The two held each other, relieved.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes @kathryndimitrescu @snipyloulou @big-galaxy-chaos @cc13723things @ycfwmalise14 @unexpected-character (could not tag) @passionswift

MCU Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @summerlovingbaby @ineffablebean @okkulta @procrastinatingsapphictrash @prettysbliss @caseyfish @sarahp-stan @thewidowsghost @basiclesbianbitch @mycosmicparadise @kidswhofightmonsters @xtraordinaryfangrl @peggycarter-steverogers @username23345 @ima-gi--na-tion @yori-nakajima @hi-i-1 @mmmmokdok @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mads-weasley @tenaciousperfectionunknown @afraid-to-be-me @lilclownx @acertainredhead @natromanoffxox @lilymurphy03 @thanossexual @avengersz-biotch @kozumekoi @mjaudrey @un-name-d @leyannrae @buckyandstevesbitch @kuzome

761 notes · View notes

amesstm · 3 years

Text

reacting to someone hitting on you

a/n: inspired by grown ass men hitting on me at work

✨Ushijima✨ sees how uncomfortable you are from a mile away. He only went to the bathroom for a few minutes and returned to a man trying to make a move on you. Ushijima may be bad at picking up social cues, but knows all of your cues. The way that you fiddled with your fingers and shifted side to side. He’ll simply stand behind the guy, grip rest his hand on the man’s shoulder, and simply rumble, “Please step away. You’re making my love uncomfortable.” The predator quickly becomes the prey, gulps, and stutters, “Understandable. Have a nice day.” Ushijima watches him scramble away, making you giggle and kiss him. “Thank you, guardian Angel.”

✨Atsumu✨ absolutely wants this man to know that you’re with him and only him. He casually slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close. “Hey Angel, is this that friend of yers that you’ve been telling me about? The one that’s like a brother to ya?” Although you’re grateful that he stepped in, he was making this too much of a competition despite having already won. It doesn’t end there. With the most innocent smile he can muster, he adds, “Baby, ya should’ve introduced him to me sooner. He could’ve seen my games and seen how hard I serve.” You totally see the underlying threats that he’s making. So, you’re the one apologizing to the man before dragging your boyfriend away.

✨Tendo✨ eyes you two and whines as he makes his way towards you. He throws his weight onto you with his head resting on your shoulder as he innocently looks up at you. “Paradise, you said we were going to see the chocolate museum now.” The man hitting on you snickers, “Who goes to a chocolate museum?” Thrown back to his Baki Baki days, Tendo will literally snicker and quip, “Cultured people.” You step away from Tendo, who immediately crumbles, and say, “I’m calling Wakatoshi, he needs to control you right now.” Suddenly remembering the way that Wakatoshi followed your bidding last time, his eyes widen and he chases after you. “Wait - no!”

✨Daichi✨ was probably still in his cop uniform when he saw this take place. Although irritated, he maintains a calm expression as he walks towards the man, acting as if he didn’t see you. “Excuse me, sir, but you’re trespassing on private property.” The man sneers at him, “What do you mean? Can’t you see that I’m busy?” Suddenly, that calm exterior melts away and is replaced with an angry disposition. “I’ll charge you with harassment if you don’t step away from my girlfriend.” The man gulps and mutters his apologizes as he sneaks away. You only sigh, “Thanks, but really?” Your lovely boyfriend smiles in reply, “I’d do anything for you to feel and to be safe.”

✨Oikawa✨ also whines like Tendo. He wraps his arms around your waist as he hugs you from behind. Pouting, he asks, “Who is this?” Your only reply is a shrug, which shows how uncomfortable the creep made you feel if you wouldn’t even speak. “Ah, then I’ll need to take my beautiful darling away from you. We have a date.” Suddenly, the man gasps, “I knew you were Oikawa Tooru’s girlfriend!” As it turns out, the man was a fan of Oikawa and also took a liking to you. “You two make such a beautiful couple!” Fed by that compliment, Oikawa returns to his charming character. Despite how it began, Oikawa turns away with his arm still holding you, calmly smiling, “He was a nice man.”

✨Bokuto✨ is probably confused about what’s going on at first. “You’re really beautiful,” the stranger would say. Bokuto would just slide into the conversation, hearing this universal fact, and agrees, “My little owl is absolutely stunning.” Slowly, you watch your boyfriend and the person who was hitting on you talk more and more. Bokuto flaunts you like you’re all the stars in the sky to this man. If you were the subject of a museum exhibit, Bokuto was giving this man the whole (PG) tour. At the end, the stranger actually finds the overwhelming love that Bokuto has for you endearing and he’d respectfully pull away. “Awh, I didn’t know you loved me that much!” Your boyfriend blinks at you and frowns, “Then I haven’t shown you enough.”

✨Kageyama✨ comes up from behind you so silently that you don’t even notice he’s only a few inches away from you. A milk carton is in his hand and he’s simultaneously drinking and glaring at the man who’s hitting on you. No one has ever looked so intimidating while drinking milk. The stranger grows more and more anxious about the murderous aura radiating from your boyfriend that he just runs away. You whisper, “Weirdo.” Just as you turn around you bump into your boyfriend. “Oh, there you are. Sorry, that guy wasn’t letting me go.” Kageyama still has that angry expression as he crushes his carton, “I know.” Suddenly understanding what happened, you chuckle and grab his hand, “Come on, you told me that you needed more milk.”

✨Kiyoko✨ stands next to you, making the stranger hit on both of you. He’s rambling on about all of his great accomplishments and how lucky the both of you would be if you hung out with him and his friends. Your girlfriend makes eye contact with you and you telepathically have a conversation about how dumb this guy is. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, your girlfriend speaks for the first time, “I’m sorry, but she’s taken.” The stranger lifts an eyebrow and frowns, “Who’s the lucky guy?” Turning on her professional manager voice, she replies, “I’m sorry, but that’s not her type.” He only blinks, “What do you mean?” “Men.” Kiyoko kisses you, leaving the guy speechless as you two walk away.

©amesstm on tumblr // pls do not plagiarize, steal, or repost my content w/o permission!! BUT likes & reblogs are highly appreciated :)

355 notes · View notes

ye0ncore · 3 years

Text

it’ll always be you - yang jungwon

hello loves! i’ve really been missing writing so here i am trying to get more fics up for you guys. i have school, work and a sport to juggle so updates may be a lil slow but just bear with me lol. also, this fic took way too long to get together, my tumblr is fucking high. anyways, love you guys <33

>> pairing: jungwon x female reader

>> synopsis: you and jungwon have always been best friends. and that’s all you saw each other as. or so you thought. that was until you got an outside perspective.

>> rating and genre: pg, fluff

>> warnings: kissing scene, a few curse words,

>> word count: 1834

“so y/n, is there any special boy in your life right now,” your new friend daeji asked, a mischievous smile on her face. you giggled and shook your head at the question, the smile staying on your face. you had only met daeji a few days ago but you already loved her. she was a transfer student from another district and the both of you had gotten very close, very quickly.

both of you are still in the process of getting to know each other, hence why the question was asked in the first place. “what?! how is there not, i’ve never seen anyone as pretty as you. is there anyone you’re into, though,” she continued, making you smile once more at her kindness.

“no there’s not,” you confirmed, making her slump in her seat. you laughed once more, and as if on cue, jungwon walked up. daeji perked up at someone of the opposite gender walking up to you, a small smirk on her face. you had mentioned jungwon once, but only as a close friend. she had never actually met him, and she was not disappointed. you’re pretty, he’s pretty so why weren’t you dating?

“hey y/n,” he said, his eyes bright and his smile wide. you greeted him back and motioned for him to sit down, which he immediately did. he set his backpack down and his eyes landed on daeji. “who’s this, y/n?”

“oh, jungwon, this is daeji. she’s a transfer student and one of my new friends. daeji, this is jungwon, my closest friend at this school,” you said with a smile, it widening when you turned to jungwon. daeji smiled and waved, and glanced at you, noticing how close you and jungwon were sitting. ‘there’s no way they aren’t dating,’ she thought.

the three of you sat there for a while, speaking about anything that came to your heads. that was until jungwon had to go and meet up with jay. apparently they were partners for a project and needed to work on it. “alright, it was really nice to meet you, daeji. bye y/n,” he said, leaning down to give you a hug. you two hugged the same way you always did, your arms around his neck, his arms wrapping around your waist. he gave you a small smile before rushing off to find jay, leaving daeji awestruck.

you looked at her and laughed at the shocked look on her face. “what,” you asked, still giggling.

she looked at you like you were insane. “y/n who the fuck is that, and why aren’t you dating him?” now it was your turn to give her a weird look.

“jungwon? no no we’re not like that. he’s my best friend,” you assured her, but she clearly didn’t believe you. which was understandable.

“best friend my ass, y/n. you’re in love with each other and i can see it! the way you looked at each other… holy shit i’ve only ever seen that in movies.” did he really look at you like that? “and you look at him the same way! a few other guys have come up and talked to you within the past few days and you didn’t look at them anywhere near the same way you looked at jungwon.”

“i told you daeji, he’s my best friend. we’re not like that,” you said once more, but that doesn’t mean the thought didn’t creep into your brain. all she did was laugh and call you crazy once more, saying her final goodbyes to you for the day. you made your way home and you couldn’t help the fact that what daeji said was stuck in your head.

she had a point. you and jungwon were always close. you had been best friends since you were little, so he always had a special place in your heart. did jungwon really look at you the way she said he did? and did you look at him the same? you tried to shake off the thought. there’s no way it would work. but you still felt that little bit of hope.

the next day at school, you met up with jungwon like you always did. every morning, without fail, you and him always met up by your car so you could walk into the school together. when he walked up to you, you took notice of the way he looked. really took notice. he was wearing a black and white striped sweater, and black sweatpants, his hair a perfect mess atop his head. your breath got caught in your throat. he looked amazing. how have you never noticed this before?

oh who are you kidding. of course you noticed. you always noticed, you just never wanted to admit it. he walked up to you, a big smile on his face. you greeted each other the same way you always did, a hug and a small ‘hello.’ except, this hug was different. you hugged the same type of way, but it just felt different. he lightly squeezed you, making you laugh and the only thing going through your head was how badly you didn’t want to let go.

unfortunately, he did let go, and led the both of you into the school. you two walked in with huge smiles on your faces, daeji giving you two a smirk when she saw you. you walked up to daeji, jungwon glued to your side, daeji immediately taking notice. ‘the only people who don’t know how they feel about each other is each other, this is just sad,’ was exactly what was going through daeji’s head.

so when the first bell rang and you went off to your class, hugging jungwon goodbye, she decided she needed to do something. after you walked off, jungwon continued to watch you for a moment, not turning back until daeji pretended to clear her throat. after she did, he whipped his head back to her, acting like nothing had happened. all she did was give him a knowing look, and he visibly deflated. “why are you looking at me like that,” he asked, still playing dumb.

daeji simply scoffed. “you like her.” jungwon froze in his spot, immediately tried to deny it. “don’t even try to give me the whole ‘she’s my best friend’ thing, i hear it enough from her when she tries to deny her feelings for you.” jungwon’s heart dropped to the floor, as did his jaw. did he hear her right?

“i’m sorry, one more time. what???” daeji laughed at his reaction.

“you both are so oblivious. everyone can see the feelings you both have for each other, except the two of you,” she explained, jungwon still looking like a deer in headlights. he simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

daeji was right. jungwon had developed feelings for you a very long time ago. he had seen you at your best, when you turned 16 and got your drivers license. and he had seen you at your worst, when your first boyfriend broke your heart. he stuck with you through all of it because he loved you and he never wanted to be without you. did you really feel the same?

“go find her, jungwon. i’m tired of seeing the both of you pine after each other. even if i’ve only known you for a day.” jungwon only nodded, running in the direction you left in, frantically searching around to find you. then he remembered exactly where you would be. the art room. that was the class you had just gone too, and he knew the teacher. they were cool with each other and you and the teacher were also very close.

he rushed to the art room as fast as his feet would carry him, the only thing on his mind being you. when he finally arrived he pulled the door open and his eyes immediately locked with yours. you smiled softly at the sight of him, stopped what you were doing and walked up to him. “hey. what are you doing here, aren’t you supposed to be in chemistry,” you asked, your tone soft and playful.

“uh….yeah i am supposed to be in chemistry… mrs. fleming might kill me, but there’s something i need to tell you, and i don’t know how much longer i was going to be able to wait,” he explained, his nerves building every second. you simply nodded, grabbed his hand and pulled you into the empty hallway. the small touch sent waves of electricity through you, bringing a wide smile to the both of your faces. if only you two knew what was about to go down.

“alright, here goes nothing. i was just talking to daeji and she called me out for staring at you…” his tone was soft and comforting, calming your nerves immediately. but as soon as the words left his mouth about daeji, you knew she had said something.

‘great, now he knows. he’s just gonna tell me he doesn’t see me like that. oh god let’s just get the rejection over with,’ was the only thing spinning through your mind. your mind didn’t even process that he said he got caught staring at you.

he seemed to notice your hesitation, but he knew he had to get this out in the open. “y/n i know this may be overwhelming and a lot to take in but i really need you to know how i feel.” he took a deep breath, and relaxed when you took his hand in yours.

“you can tell me anything, jungwon.” your calming voice was enough to give him the confidence to finally get the words out.

“alright so… y/n i really really really fucking like you. you’ve been there for me through absolutely everything and you’re genuinely the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen. you make me so damn happy and i’m so thankful to have you in my life. whether that’s you as my friend or something more. i just wanted -”

you cut off his rambling by pressing your lips against his. you supposed he wasn’t expecting it because it took him a second to respond, but eventually he was kissing you back. one hand found it’s way to your waist and the other cupped your cheek. both of your arms were wrapped around his neck, pulling the both of you closer to one another. the kiss was soft and passionate, making it clear the both of you had been wanting this for a while.

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing heavier, but there were wide smiles on your faces. his hands stayed on your waist as he pulled you into a hug, you nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “the feeling is mutual, jungwon.” you felt like you could hear him smile, him pulling you even closer if that even possible. “it’s always been you. it’ll always be you.”

218 notes · View notes

anonymousdandelion · 3 years

Text

Crowley and Aziraphale meet Hershel of Ostropol

As usual this time each year, I reread the wonderful work of classic Jewish children’s literature that is Eric Kimmel’s Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins. And then afterwards (also as usual these days), my brain drifted to thinking about Good Omens.

I'd probably try to turn the resulting thoughts into a niche crossover fic, except I’m still very much out of creative writing mode, so that probably won’t happen. So instead: Tumblr rambles that will probably mean nothing to anyone but me!

Because, see, I can’t help thinking that Crowley would have very much admired Hershel of Ostropol, in all his trickster glory. I mean, really. Just look at Hershel’s shenanigans, his sense of humor, his sheer audacity. The man’s wiles! Crowley is definitely a fan.

(Aziraphale might pretend to be disapproving of some of Hershel’s methods. But something tells me he in fact has his own sense of appreciation for a clever, incorrigible prankster.)

As for the goblins, haunting the old synagogue and ruining Chanukah? It’s no great stretch of the imagination to say these are demons. Mostly lower-ranking ones, presumably (with the obvious exception of the king who shows up on the final night); looking at Trina Schart Hyman’s vivid illustrations, Hell’s Usher from GO would fit right in with the crowd.

(Side note: I imagine they don’t have pickles in Hell, so I can’t help but feel some sympathy for Eric’s big, green, overdramatic, pickle-deprived waddling cousin. Despite everything, I do hope Crowley will bring down a jar for the poor fellow sometime.)

Now, back to the fic that I probably won’t write... well, first I was trying to figure out what role Crowley and/or Aziraphale might play in Hershel’s showdowns against the goblins. Does Crowley help Hershel out? Give tips on how to defeat his own goblin/demon coworkers? Does Aziraphale join in the attempt to protect the holiday? Do both of them work on it together? Does Crowley have to be a reluctant collaborator with the goblins? Does the Arrangement come into play?

...But then I realized it would feel truer to both canon source materials if in fact Hershel still pulls off his victory single-handed, just as he does in today’s telling of the story, while Aziraphale and Crowley bicker in the background while waiting around with the rest of the villagers and making no difference at all.

(They’d both have liked to do something to help, really, they would, it’s just that Aziraphale did a few too many anticipatory small-scale oil-extending, dreidel-charming, and latke-multiplying miracles elsewhere recently, and so he’s at the end of his budget for the time being.)

(And Crowley, of course, can’t exactly go sticking his neck out to publicly challenge his own coworkers. There’s always the possibility that he is a, perhaps reluctant, collaborator in the haunting himself.)

(Though at this point he is seriously considering sticking his neck out anyway, consequences be blessed, if Aziraphale complains one more time about the lack of latkes...)

Fortunately, Hershel comes through to save the day on his own — unaided by any forces save his trademark brand of craftiness, Chanukah candles, a few eggs and pickles and a dreidel, and of course an extra-sized serving of raw chutzpah.

And when Hershel finally returns to the village on the last night of Chanukah, he doesn’t even know he isn’t the only non-local there tonight. He doesn’t know that among the throngs of people waiting to welcome him back with latke-laden platters, hanging around on the outskirts and exchanging smiles, are an angel and a demon. He doesn’t need to know that.

But it’s possible, just possible, that a little demonic miracle or two might have helped make sure that Hershel of Ostropol and and his escapades would not be forgotten. It’s possible, just possible, that an off-the-record angelic blessing helped safeguard his legacy, to be preserved in jokes and tales.

And so, today, Hershel’s adventures are remembered, retold, and passed on for future generations to read and hear and laugh over together, as the villagers’ descendants gather once again around the menorah to celebrate another triumph of tradition and the spirit of Chanukah.

(I suppose this post can count as my accidental contribution to @5ftjewishcactus‘s Chanukah Omens 2021 event, since it ended up incorporating several of the prompts.)

57 notes · View notes

nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Pop Star Wars AU: Waking

Drabble set in this au which I wrote way back a few weeks ago.

Back then, I had only recently decided to look up my tumblr password for a third attempt at being an appreciative fandom community member instead of just trying to think really hard at internet strangers, and maybe shout into the void a little. (But there’s like, several people here now??? How did you even find me on the internet? )

Anyway I have since learned how to spell Anakin’s name and insert links. Also that if you resize your window while typing directly into tumblr everything disappears.

Self Indulgent Crack Pop Star Wars Time Travel Fixit (star wars au no 3):

After several years of exile in the Jundland Wastes, Ben Kenobi had not quite finished mentally unpacking the decades of mistakes, grief, and failure that had led him to the desert. It was the work of a lifetime, and some days were harder than others. But after several forays in and out of alcoholism, spice addiction, and every other form of geographically-accessible self-destruction, he could at least say that some days were easier.

The process was no doubt made more difficult by the abject solitude. Unlike the chaotic years that constituted the fall of the Republic, he had all too much time to think, and no one around to share his thoughts with. He closed his eyes in the dark of his hut, thoughts drifting between past and future.

The past was as ugly and lovely as ever. The larger future didn’t look much better, but he could find some joy in the thought of tomorrow and fresh bantha milk when the herd roamed near. Owen was always much less begrudging of his presence when he came with an offering, and Beru would likely invite him to stay for noon meal where he would share in fresh cheese as Luke rambled about his plans to fix-up a junked speeder bike.

The thought of Luke’s happiness at the treat allowed him enough peace of mind to meditate more deeply.

He carefully broke off a piece of unfair-bitterness from his larger loving-grief. The bitterness he released into the force. The grief he turned over and soothed until its edges dissolved. He accepted it, now smoother if not smaller, laying it to rest alongside his hard-earned wisdom and unfinished poetry.

Tired, but fractionally lighter, Ben Kenobi drifted to sleep.

He opened his eyes to the first rays of daylight peeking in his temple chambers.

The room was intimately familiar. For a few years they were Ashoka’s, on the rare occasion she found herself temple-side and in want of privacy but not complete solitude. For a solid decade before her, the chambers were Anakin’s, though he was quick enough to accept the common room couch when Ashoka entered their life. And before that...they were his. That was his model rocket on the shelf, and his astronomical mobile hanging from the ceiling, and his robes scattered on the floor, though they hadn’t been arranged as such in this room since his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. He sat up.

Glad he had put energy into meditation last night, he used the lingering clarity of mind to try and work through possible explanations.

Vivid Dream? No a quick pinch to his inner elbow debunked that, as well as the fact that the morning taste in his mouth was more the minty tang of denti-cleaner, rather than the saltiness of dried meat which he had grown accustomed to.

Hallucinogenic mushroom flashback? Possible, though it still wouldn’t explain the detail of physical sensations he felt, running his hand from the temple-spun linens on his bed to the warm-carved wood of his bedside table. He stood and did a perfect forward flip in place. Shockingly his knees didn’t ache at impact, but a drug induced hallucination of this intensity would have some sort of impact on his equilibrium, and he felt perfectly balanced, at least physically.

Force vision seemed most likely. Sinking into cross-legged meditation, he gradually lowered his mental shields. There was no whisper of Vader or Palpatine anywhere near Hutt space at this time, so the risk of reaching out was both manageable and necessary. Rather than the pure energy he personally associated with intense visions, he felt gradients of light, echoing ripples of emotions, and the unique solidity of force-imbued stone walls.

Heart beginning to race as reality set in, Ben concluded that he was, indeed, in the Jedi temple on Courascant. Even if he had suffered a complete psychotic break, his force sense couldn’t lie with such crystal clear detail. Confused unreality mixed with images of the past and future, sure. But this was the temple. It just was.

He couldn’t make sense of it. Even if he had somehow been found, drugged, and transported to the heart of the empire, the rooms as he sensed them didn’t exist anymore. The contents were lost or burnt, the stone walls destroyed and rebuilt into a wing of the Imperial Palace.

Obi-Wan sank deeper into the force and reached out further, searching for he answers. In general, the force felt light, the shroud of the darkside was a hazy irritation in the distance, not a smothering blanket. The manifold wounds in the force formed by senseless war and destruction were absent. Also gone were the tang of grief and loss that he had begun to associate with the temple’s signature even before- even before the purge.

The temple was also full to the brim with tens of thousands of lights in the living force. He reached out to them incredulously, nudging many just to feel a living, sentient response. The last time he remembered feeling so many Jedi all in the temple at the same time was...well, when he still lived in this room. The nearest living force sensitive presence was achingly familiar, though notably and unquestioningly living. He could feel the presence moving nearer and retreated, pulling himself fully back into his body.

The only explanation that fit was that he had suddenly, miraculously, inexplicably traveled back in time.

He half ran to his closet, opening the door with a yank to reveal a full length mirror. A once-familiar, 25-year old padawan stared back with visible shock. Of course his knees didn’t hurt, this body hadn’t yet been broken and abused by knighthood, war, and Tatooine. His hands examined the smooth chin, the unwrinkled forehead, and even the terrible, terrible haircut.

Obi-wan startled at a knock at his door, freezing in place.

“Padawan?” Came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice softly, “I don’t intend to pull you out of meditation prematurely, but is there a particular reason you were sprawling over the temple this morning? You startled me somewhat. To be perfectly honest, I think you might have alarmed a few people around the temple, I’ve already received messages from council telling me to reign in my padawan before he hurts himself.”

Qui-Gon sounded more amused than reprimanding, and he paused, clearly waiting for an answer.

Obi-Wan’s jaw locked up. What could he say? How could he even to begin to explain what had happened? He sank to floor, head pressed to the ground and tears silent streaming down his face. All he could do was offer to the force were words, the feelings could come later Thank you. Thank youThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU.

For whatever reason, the force had granted him a second chance. Regardless if it was intended as punishment, gift, or inexplicable chance, he would build a better future than the one he left behind.

“Padawan?” Qui-Gon knocked again, sounding concerned, “Are you alright? If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there.”

And all at once he had flipped back to not enough time to think and too many people needing his attention.

Obi-Wan managed to open his mouth to call out some meaningless assurance, intent on gaining more time to process the fantastical situation. Much to his surprise, what came out was a strangled, keening sob. Qui-Gon burst through the door.

Obi-Wan realized, with a little embarrassment, that he was curled up practically into a ball on the floor, tears streaming in a shocking waste of water. It was probably not the most dignified, nor the most reassuring position for Qui-Gon to walk in on.

Qui-Gon rushed to his side, pulling him up by the shoulders to frantically look him over. “What happened?” he demanded, “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong while you were meditating and you were trying to reach out for help?”

Obi-Wan smiled at the barrage of questions. He had almost forgotten that on the rare occasions when Qui-Gon’s perfect Jedi serenity broke, he became somewhat counterproductively intense.

“I’m alright, Master,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a croaking, “MNNrlerR.”

This predictably, only increased Qui-Gon’s concern.

To Obi-Wan’s deep consternation, he was dragged by Qui-Gon to the healer’s wing. He remained quiet during the examination, not wanting to risk whatever was compromising his ability to speak. It could be readjusting to his younger body, or a manifestation of the admittedly great emotional shock he was still experiancing. Or simple lack of practice- it had been several weeks since he had last heard the sound of his own voice, from a certain point of view.

After finding no physical cause for concern, Master Vyr asked Qui-Gon to wait outside.

“Padawan Kenobi?” The Tortugan healer asked gently. “Your Master seems quite insistent that something is wrong. Would you like to discuss what the problem seems to be?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and was relieved when his voice came out smooth and under his control, “I’m alight, Master. I apologize for disruption. I experienced a... particularly strong vision when I woke up this morning, and temporarily lost control over myself. I’m already feeling more stable. I believe I simply need to meditate on what I’ve seen. My master unfortunately came in while I was dealing with some of the emotional aftermath.

“I see,” Vyr responded. “Did you experience this vision before or after your expansive foray into the force? I understand a surprising swath of the temple felt your presence press against them this morning.”

“I reached out after,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My vision was...particularly dark. I felt the need to ground myself with the presence of other Jedi. I’ll make certain to apologize to anyone I may have startled.”

Eventually he was cleared with the strict instruction to stick with shallow meditation for the next few days as well as a strong recommendation to seek out Master Yoda, Sifo-Dryfas, or one of the other Master known to experience visions.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked back to their quarters together in a peaceful quiet. It wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that Qui-Gon rounded on his padawan.

“What vision could possibly have left you in such distress?”

Obi-Wan walked to the kitchenette to make tea, stalling before answering. “You have always told me to stay focused on the present, Master”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, however this...vision seems to have altered you somehow. You are grieved by it.”

“Yes. But what I grieve may never come to pass.”

It won’t come to pass. I might not know his every tool, but I do know Sideous’s biggest secret, and I WILL stop him.

“Will you not tell me what you saw?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding somewhat hurt.

Obi-Wan poured the hot water carefully, feeling torn. If he told Qui-Gon everything... would he believe him? Perhaps, eventually but...what would become of Anakin, still just a boy? And the moment he knew of Palpatine’s evil...he knew Qui-Gon. He would favor the direct approach, underestimating the sheer breadth of the trap the sith had laid (Obi-Wan himself lived through it and only began to understand long after it had closed).

“I saw...a great shadow fall over the republic.”

He sat at the table, relishing in the simple pleasure of pouring a cup for Qui-Gon and himself from a shared pot.

Qui-Gon cradled his mug in his hands. “I see. Nothing specific?”

“Your death. At the hands of a tool of darkness. You ran ahead...” Obi-Wan took a scorching sip to stop himself. “It was foolish. Unnecessary. And I was forced to fight alone without you.

Qui-Gon set the tea down to stroke his beard in thought. “Well. I have no great desire to die. While I make no promises, I will endeavor to avoid leaving you behind ‘unnecessarily.’”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, over sincere.

They drank in peaceful silence. It was interrupted by a shrill noise from Qui-Gon’s comm.

“I’ve just received a personal request from the Chancellor to immediately assist in negotiations with a Trade Federation blockade around Naboo. Are you feeling up to it?”

“You know, I think I am”

#star wars #pop star wars au #my au #time travel #star wars au no 3

376 notes · View notes

definitely-not-a-wasp · 3 years

Note

I'm okay with a bunch of disorganized rambling honestly 😂. But if I had to narrow it down then I guess I want to know about main and side characters and how they compare to the original?

I know that tumblr is the Prime Site for disorganized rambling, but I have perfectionism issues. But that is a great question, nonnie, and I will be happy to ramble is a slightly less disorganized fashion.

When reading Maximum Ride as a somewhat-formed adult who discovered they enjoy English classes about 3.5 years ago, I noticed that JP, when writing, doesn't understand consistency. At all. Which means, in many ways, I have a free sandbox to work with.

Spoilers for my rewrite WIP, because I strongly believe that if a story would no longer be good if one had spoilers, then it wasn’t a good story in the first place.

I'm trying to keep the backstories the same, plus or minus the scientific method and a few characters (RIP my OCs. I want to bring you back so bad but it wouldn't fit with the thematic narrative). I've mostly kept their (starting) abilities the same, too. Without further ado, I'm going to introduce some WorldBuilding. (If I'm good at nothing else, I'm good at world building)

First off. Logically.

How are they getting Cable?

How are they getting internet?

How are they getting money to eat and stuff?

JP's answer: handwave it off. Sometimes you need to ignore logistics for the sake of plot. This is an answer I'd accept from an author that I like, such as Julie Kagawa, that makes amazing worlds, characters, and narratives that I will happily handwave a few things that wouldn't work in the real world. James Patterson, on the other hand, did not make any of that; he made a cool concept, some good rough-draft characters, and nothing else, and therefore this is an unforgivable sin.

Wasp's answer: They are not getting any of that.

Introducing Cottagecore.

The house is off the grid. Solar Panels and a wind turbine create electricity. They have their own well. They grow their own food, raise livestock for eggs, milk, and wool, and trap fish for meat. They get money through dumpster diving and pawning. They still have to steal half of the necessities they can’t make themselves. They do have a TV, but it can access about three channels on a clear day. Internet is only a thing when they go to the public library.

Giving the flock a background that’s heavy in farming and livestock rearing shores up the plot holes mentioned above, but in my opinion, ties the flock more tightly to the environment, thus giving them something tangible to lose when they have to leave the E-shaped house. Because they’re not just leaving a house and a safety net— they’re leaving their entire way of life with no promise of getting it back. It also gives them a tangible connection to the earth in case I want to actually pursue the global warming themes.

Main Characters

Maximum “Max” Ride (Birthname: nonexistent)

First off, I'm letting her be Latina, James Patterson.

In the original, Max was very much the headstrong, independent, action girl. Leaning into Strong Female Character (TM), but overall she had a strong, solid foundation and enough character consistency through the first three books for me to not have to just make an entire new character. However, I felt that she was, in some ways, a bit too Action-Girl and Strong and Capable. Yes, Max is incredible and competent, but she’s also fourteen. She’s a child.

In the rewrite, Max’s character is still headstrong, independent, capable, and sometimes not the best at listening to others. All of that’s the same. But she’s that way not because of girlboss energy, but because there’s no one else to do it. She doesn’t want to lead, necessarily. She wants to get some rest and let someone else handle the problems life keeps throwing at her. But she knows if she did that, the responsibility of leader would fall to Fang and Iggy, and she can’t ask that of them. She doesn’t want to place that burden on anyone else (Look, there’s a reason I chose Ayano’s Theory of Happiness as one of her signifier songs, okay?). Her narrative is very much centered around burden, and also around loss. She lost her cultural heritage when she was taken away from her birth family, she lost her childhood to being a leader, she lost a good deal of her friends to the school (RIP my OCs), she lost Jeb, and then she lost her stability. And she’s going to lose a lot more before the end of the story. So a lot of her character arc deals with learning that there are some things she can’t fix, some things that can’t be recovered. She can’t get the E-shaped house back. She can’t get her Little Baby Angel back, even after they rescue her. She can’t get her friends back from the school. And instead of working so hard to recover those or find something to replace them, she has to learn to live with that sense of loss and move on with her life without feeling guilty for leaving things behind. And she has to learn that asking for help and sharing her burden is selfish or weak.

Other changes I made that don’t necessarily fit into her narrative arc, but you asked for rambling so rambling you shall get:

Max hallucinates, because mental illness is also a prominent theme in the rewrite. She doesn’t have a psychotic disorder, but her C-PTSD causes visual/audio hallucinations, especially when she’s stressed or sleep deprived.

Max ends up having a Gender Discovery throughout the story and goes by He/She pronouns eventually. I don’t know when, but it will happen.

As far as genetic modifications/special quirks go, she can fly faster than the rest of the flock, but not 300 miles per hour. She averages about sixty mph with diving speeds of 240. She cannot breathe underwater or shut down her organs on command. She also has the Super Special Power to predict the weather, but that’s not because of genetics, it’s because she has chronic pain in her right arm that gets worse when weather fronts change.

Her favored weapon is her trusty rebar that she picked up from a condemned building. I think she’s going to name it eventually but I don’t know what yet.

Fang (Birth name: Gabriel Xue)

In canon, Fang is characterized in early books by being the “dark, strong, silent type”. He’s probably the most reserved member of the flock, to the point of falling into the Brooding Mystery Man trope in parts of the book. They care a lot, but they’re not the best at conveying that, especially with the younger members of the flock, and at times their high empathy leads them to making mistakes. Despite the high empathy, he’s often compared to a robot due to his lack of expression and external emotions.

Well, first change is that they’re not a man, so jot that down—

If Max’s narrative is centered around burden and loss, I would probably say that Fang’s is centered around humanity and moving on. None of the flock was treated as human while in the school, but Fang was more often than not treated like a wild animal due to “behavioral issues”, and therefore had and continues to have a difficult time considering themselves real and alive, let alone human. This manifests through a several different ways— where in canon Fang definitely had a ‘fight’ reaction, in the re-write they have a ‘freeze’ or ‘shut down’ instinct. They’re selectively mute for multiple reasons (including derealization, jaw pain, the fact that they didn’t learn how to speak until they were 10, and genuinely forgetting it’s something they’re capable of), a period of Cotard’s syndrome, and a tendancy towards self-loathing and self-sacrifice. In short, Fang is still halfway stuck in the mindset that most of the flock grew out of when they escaped in the school, and doesn’t know how to move past it.

Much of their character arc revolves around not necessarily seeing themselves as human, but learning to treat themselves as human even when they don’t feel like one (or even feel real), and knowing that just because they don’t feel human all the time doesn’t mean anyone else can treat them the same. They never start easily expressing their emotions, and they’re always going to be selectively mute, but they learn to accept that those aspects of themself aren’t character flaws or signs that they’re sub-human.

Other additions to Fang’s character include:

They don’t get their hair cut in New York. It stays long through the entire series. They have the longest hair in the flock by the end of the series, and they can wear it in so many styles.

Fang uses they/it pronouns because themes of reclaiming the weapons used against it and, more importantly, Gender.

They’re actually really good at spelling compared to the rest of the flock, because they and Iggy communicate with Print-On-Palm when they’re nonverbal, and they’re nonverbal for some pretty long stretches of time.

They and Max have... zero romantic tension. At all. There is none. The number of times Max calls them her sibling/little sibling in the first arc alone is staggering, and that will not change.

Igneous “Iggy” (Birthname: Jamsetta “Jamie” Griffiths)

I’ve talked about Iggy before. Canon doesn’t give us much to go off of, but from what’s shown, he’s smart, sarcastic, has sharper edges than Fang and Max, and also has a sizable ruthless streak. So that’s what I have to go off of.

The big difference between Iggy and Fang&Max is that Iggy has a much better memory of the School. Most of the flock have areas (months or years) that they don’t remember, or people that they’ve blocked from their mind, but Iggy... doesn’t. So he’s the one that remembers all of the other AVIAN test subjects that were old enough to have names and identities but died due to complications. Max might have the burden of leadership, but he has the burden of memory. And that has lead to both a massive fucking guilt complex, because why did he survive when they didn’t, and, as mentioned above, a ruthless streak that he doesn’t shy away from.

Which is to say, by the end of the story, Iggy has the highest kill count.

I love, love writing Iggy next to Max and Fang. I love writing Iggy next to Gazzy and Nudge. Because, I say this with all of the love of the world, but Iggy is not a good person. He is loyalty and love incarnate, and the world can burn down if he and his siblings are safe. Max and Fang will always try to save as many people as they can. They will wonder what’s wrong with them the first time they kill and don’t have a mental breakdown about it. They are good in a way that Iggy is not. He’s okay with killing Erasers. He’s okay with killing humans. He’s okay with killing people who might not necessarily deserve it, if they show themselves as a threat or are simply in the blast radius. He knows perfectly well that most of those Erasers he’s murdering are four and five and he is okay with that, because a lot of the AVIANs were that age when they died. (Yeah, in the rewrite it’s not Fang who has an issue with Ari; it’s Iggy who wants the 7-year-old wolf-boy dead.)

And this is, of course, juxtaposed with Iggy being really, really good with Nudge and Gazzy (especially in the beginning). Because, again, he actually remembers being a child. He remembers a lot of kids that died and is therefore fiercely protective of the kids that didn’t, as well as fiercely protective of the innocence that he never got. So he’s the one that cooks their favorite foods when they’re having a bad day, always makes time when they want to talk about something, and convinces Max to let them go to that toy store in New York because, yeah, he Max and Fang aren’t kids. They never were. But Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel can be. (And if he has to be a murderer to preserve that, then he’s perfectly okay with that.)

He and Angel don’t get along very well, though. The telepath doesn’t like hanging out with the person with the most clear memories of the school.

Other additions:

Iggy is trans and says trans rights

He also has paranoid episodes, because C-PTSD. Sometimes they’re very helpful. Sometimes they are not.

I actually decided that he’s one of the flock that doesn’t meet their parents. I know in canon he did, but I always found that very clunky because it didn’t add to his character. He was one of the characters who, until it was convenient for the plot, seemed to care the least about his family. I’d much rather give that to a character whose arc would benefit from it.

Iggy! Gets! Older Sibling Rights! Seriously, he’s two months younger than Fang, he is just as capable.

Iggy does not know braille because Jeb decided it wasn’t necessary for him to know. Iggy is also the best speller in the flock, because Print-on-Palm was the only way to talk to Fang for a solid year. Yes he mocks everyone over this.

Iggy is the only member of the flock that enjoys swimming and can take into the air from water. Everyone else in the flock is incredibly jealous.

Nudge (Birthname: Monique Robinson)

If Iggy is defined by his memories, Nudge is his polar opposite. She was seven when she left the School, but she has next to no memories of it. She is missing a lot of time in the first year she escaped. And that causes... a lot of things. It makes her feel disconnected from her older siblings, it gives her the ability to function in society in a way the other’s can’t, it lets her feel less grief over the ones that didn’t make it and she doesn’t remember, it makes her feel guilty that she doesn’t remember what she’s old enough to know.

Basically, in order for me to keep the character of Nudge as I saw her (more extroverted, not afraid of the world, fascinated with humans like her siblings aren’t, desiring to fit in instead of isolate), I had to put a little bit of distance between her and the flock. Of course, she loves them— that will in no way change— but she’s old enough that she should remember the school (and her dead friends) unlike Gazzy and Angel, but she can’t, and she very much fears forgetting the flock if anything happens to them. So she’s trying desperately to keep the flock close and wants desperately to experience the world at the same time, and doesn’t know what to do when she can’t have both. That’s her biggest character conflict throughout the series, along with that in-between area where she’s not quite where her older siblings are but understands so much more than Gazzy and Angel, and where she stands in that.

So yeah. Nudge’s journey is that in looking for belonging in the world, in her family, and in herself.

This is why she’s one of the ones that gets to find her parent, James Patterson.

Other additions include:

She never straightens her hair. Never. Her resources at the E-shaped house aren’t perfect, but she still has learned how to take care of her hair and has a few styles she cycles through.

She becomes the default person Max sics on people when the flock is trying to befriend them. Also their de-facto diplomat around strangers.

As in canon, she does take some time away from the flock to expirience ‘normal life’. This does not last long due to the stress of being separated from her siblings/not being able to help them and [REDACTED]

Nudge is... not the only person in her head. I’m not focusing on it much because she doesn’t actually know and neither does the flock (I don’t know if they ever figure it out during the series, either), but she has dissociative identity disorder. She’s not aware of her alter(s?). Her alter isn’t super aware of her, either.

The alter that I’ve developed is named Oxy and is not super aware of the outside world. In her eyes, she’s still seven and they’re still at the School. She would not recognize the body as her own if she looked in a mirror.

Nudge actually leaves the flock for a while to pursue her dream of living a normal life. She deserves it. She learns how to make muffins and the basics of software development. These things are unrelated.

Gasman (Birthname: No first name, surname “Falk”)

Honestly, writing Gazzy is kind of hard for me. Partially because I’m not great at writing kids, and partially because I feel like he’s a pretty surface-level character in-series that... isn’t super compelling in canon. But even if that’s the case, I try to treat all of my characters with respect, so here we go. In my rewrite, he escaped when he was four, which was half a lifetime ago for him, so his memories are ill-defined. Therefore, he managed to circumvent a lot of the trauma that the rest of the kids have, and not in the way Nudge did, which is by creating an elaborate blockage in her memories.

Which means Gazzy... really doesn’t know how to deal with all of this traumatic stuff happening. So much of his development turns out to be a coming-of-age narrative. Learning how to deal with the horrors of what his siblings grew up with. Learning the fears that they had the entire time. Losing his innocence when everyone around him never had it in the first place, and being so terribly alone because of it. Because, really, how can you explain such a deep loss to people who never had what he had? How can they help in a way that matters?

Also, relationship-wise, I’m slowly deteriorating the relationship between him and Iggy. Slowly. Or, changing it, at least. Gazzy hero-worships Iggy in-series, and for good reason, because Iggy is super cool, especially in the eyes of an eight-year-old, and especially when Iggy has taken care to cultivate parts of his behaviors to be child-friendly. Part of growing up is seeing the flaws in your heroes, and Gazzy has to learn how to deal with it. End of the series Gazzy is much less closer to Iggy than beginning of the series Gazzy, and neither of them are really okay with that, but they learn to live with it, because that’s really all they can do.

Notes:

I’m keeping the mimickry! It plays a bit of a bigger role because that’s how Gazzy learned to talk. I’m debating whether or not he has his own voice or if he just borrows the flock’s as he sees fit. He also uses it to scream really loudly and occaisonally burst the eardrums of Erasers.

At one point he cosplays as Jessica Jones. No you don’t get any more context than this.

He has a horrible sense of fashion.

I’m changing his name eventually because it sucks. He’s either going to change it to Gannet, Garrison, or Ivy Mike temporarily, and permanently to Zephyr. (I never said I was going to make his name GOOD, because he’s eight, but it’s changing. You’re welcome.)

Angel (Birthname: No first name, surname “Falk”)

It’s just... a completely different character, at this point. I’ve changed so many things about her in an attempt to make her consistent and act like a six-year-old and work in the whole “telepath before she has a solid sense of identity”, so it’s a different character. Also, I’m tired of writing coherently or in paragraphs, so have some interesting facts.

She has epilepsy! Super severe epilepsy! I think she might also develop juvenile MS in the future because her brain has so many scars from being a fucking six-year-old telepath. There’s no way she could get out of that unscathed.

She has more memories of the school than Gazzy, but only because she keeps accidentally reading the minds of Max, Fang, and Iggy. On a related note, she interacts with Iggy as little as possible.

The mind reading means that she has a hard time developing as a normal child with a normal sense of identity or reality. She can’t tell how much people are individual people and how much they’re just extensions of her. Conversely, she can’t tell how much of herself is actually her instead of the thoughts/opinions/identities of someone else. It’s... kinda fucked? But also super not-her-fault.

She’s albino because white wings. Also, because I thought it was cool. This also means that her vision sucks, though. Also she has the biggest straw sunhat and the most stylish sunglasses a six-year-old can have.

She’s responsible for Max shaving her hair off.

She has the highest swear count because I think it’s funny. She’s the only person allowed to say the fuck word in writing. Everyone else can only say ‘hell’ and the occasionally ‘damn’ but she can say whatever she wants for dramatic and comedic value.

She is NOT THE FUCKING VOICE, J*MES P*TTERSON.

Honorable Mentions

Jeb

I’m skipping Jeb because of how little I care about him. He’s a little bitch, next character.

Ari

STILL HASN’T BEEN REVEALED AS AN ERASER. I’ve been writing for 50,000 words and he’s over here saying ‘nope nope not yet, not dramatic enough’. He’s had speaking lines but has refused to make himself known to Max. I am so frustrated with this seven-year-old wolf-child that I’ve already considered how I would kill him, if I decide I want to kill yet another child in my writing.

So, my main thoughts for Ari is that he... really just drew the short end of the stick in every possible way. While Jeb didn’t sign him up for Eraser expirimentation, he didn’t do anything to stop it, and pretty much cut his losses when he realized this expiriment made a wreck of his ‘perfect, unflawed’ son, because Jeb doesn’t consider children of any species to actually be humans. So, Ari really hates his dad, which makes things complicated, because he also really loves his dad and really wants his approval.

Which means that he also really hates Max, because she’s the child that always got Jeb’s time and attention, even when Ari was human. I think, on some level, he knows that trying to tear Max down to a less-favored level isn’t actually going to help his situation— infighting for the love of an abusive parent won’t make them any less abusive— but he’s also seven, and his development is already severely stunted due to becoming an Eraser, and he doesn’t see ‘leaving ITEX’ as an option like the Flock does. ITEX is his everything. It’s all he’s ever known, and they tell him he’s doing the right thing, and he wants them to love him. He wants his father to love him. He knows that if he ever questions ITEX, his father will never love him. So it must be his older sister that’s ruining his life and being a horrible child, and once Ari drags her back down to his level, Jeb will realize who the best child is and love him properly again.

Ari, on an even deeper level, does care for Max quite a bit, because she’s his older sister and he wants that to mean something in a way that ‘Jeb being his father’ obviously doesn’t. He wants what she made for herself, and he hates the Flock because she loves them and obviously doesn’t love him.

Ari, if anything, is the product of neglect, and both loves and hates everyone who shows a chance of caring about him. And he’s seven, so he can’t notice these patterns, let alone break them.

So. Notes!

He doesn’t look like an adult. I thought that was gross and unnecessary. He’s seven, but he looks closer to thirteen or fourteen. Still young enough that he looks like every Eraser’s little brother, and the Erasers high-key treat him like it.

On a related note, he’s the only Eraser who can talk. The others don’t have the mental capacity or vocal structure to replicate human speech, but they can understand language (at about the level of a two or three year old) and are very good at nonverbal communication. This is why Ari managed to climb the ranks despite only having three years of “service” and also looking like a tween.

He doesn’t have an expiration date because that is SUCH a stupid plot point.

I’m giving him a chainsaw! I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but he deserves to have a chainsaw and GODDAMN I will give it to him.

Emergency and Gene

The OCs that I love and also killed pre-series. They don’t have any scenes, because they’re dead, but their deaths greatly effected Max, Fang, and Iggy, and they are very commonly referenced. Their voices are probably Max’s most common hallucination, to the point where she sometimes pretends they’re ghosts that she can talk to. They’re not ghosts. They’re dead.

Dr. Valencia Martinez

I’m actually keeping her pretty close to canon— loving, supportive, the type of person to take in a gsw victim with minimal questions. The difference is that rather than kindness fueling her actions, it’s incredible guilt. She has three goals surrounding Max: Give her as much support in any way she can, teach her as much about chicane culture as possible, and never let Max know that she’s her birth parent.

(She’s probably going to fail at AT LEAST two of those, but it’s the thought that counts.)

Notes:

She has a pet fox named Robin Hood that she rescued from an exotic animal salesman that got arrested.

I think I’m going to kill her. I don’t know yet, but it’s on the table.

Anne Walker

Y’know, the fake FBI Agent. Who’s not actually a fake in my story because I hated that plot point. She’s genuinely an FBI agent who put the Flock into pseudo-witness-protection in order to build a case against the Institute of Higher Living, accidentally got attached to her prime witnesses, raised them for a few months, realized a [SPOILER] and promptly had to let them get the hell out dodge.

I really like the Anne Walker that lives in my head. She is a VITAL part of the Flock’s development, their mental/emotional recovery, and adding to their safety net to fall back on. She serves them as their first adult role model, and is the first adult to show them what parent/child are supposed to look like from a healthy perspective. Though she has several fuck ups, she becomes someone that the Flock genuinely trusts and loves, which makes it all the more difficult for them to leave when [REDACTED].

Notes:

She and Max do butt heads initially, because Max is paranoid and also afraid of becoming uneeded. This ends up being incredibly important because Max needs to learn how to live and find meaning in life without being the designated Leader/Parent/Big Sister

Anne, at one point, sits the entire flock down to teach them about consent, which was something no one ever talked about with them before. She goes in talking specifically about consent in a romantic/sexual sense (because they’re fourteen and that’s something they need to know), but quickly turns into a full-fledged no, people are NOT allowed to do that to you, what the FUCK.

She’s responsible for giving the flock a laptop. It’s because Angel is online schooled (bc telepathy makes actually learning difficult) and was therefore provided with a computer.

Anne is also allowed to swear, but only when it’s funny.

Michael “Grey” Rivers

Aka Grey from the Sewers Aka GR3Y H47 Aka Mike from the Bronx Aka Gifted Child Syndrome Incarnate Aka Would-be-in-MIT-if-his-parents-weren’t-horrible. He’s my son, your honour.

Basically, his backstory boils down to him being a genius, getting into MIT at 14, his (horrible) parents wanting a perfect child who could “make it out” of the Bronx and represent his family/neighborhood/borough to the world. When he inevitably failed their expectations due to stress, a schizophrenic-spectrum disorder that completely alienated him from the rest of his support network, and refusing to take his psych meds because the side effects were horrible and they made it harder to think (and therefore pass his classes), they kicked him out. He fully intends to go back to MIT when he turns 18 and has control of his finances/scholarships/medication/therapy.

So that’s how the flock meets him.

Mike ends up in a very prominent support role for the flock both in technological persuits (helping them track their parents, helping them get information from ITEX, trying to disable Max’s chip and failing multiple times until it becomes a matter of personal honour—), in helping the older members of the flock figure out how to deal with hallucinations/delusions (because he’s actually been to therapy, unlike them), and in being one of the only people who talks to them and helps them without any ulterior motive. He’s not trying to build a case against ITEX/The Institute of Higher Learning, he’s not double crossing them, he’s not plagued with guilt. He just genuinely wants to help them, and they genuinely want to help him, and that’s their first introduction to a healthy, non-codependent relationship.

My many disorganized notes on Michael Rivers:

He’s from specifically Morris Heights, Bronx, NYC.

He would say that his last name is actually Rivera, but his grandparents changed it to Rivers so it would sound more English, and his family has been in America for so long that he doesn’t know much about any Latino heritage he may or may not have. He identifies as African American, not Afro-Latino. He’s just bitter that his family felt the need to change their surname to have better opportunities in New York.

Nudge aggressively befriends him pretty much the moment she meets him, bullies him into teaching her how to code, and he very quickly adopts her as his pseudo-little-sister.

His delusions in the book seemed to involve government conspiracies, but as that’s the one delusion that is proved correct in the book, I’ve decided it would be best if his delusions and reality intersected a bit less if I don’t want to write him having a manic/paranoid episode in the second scene he has screen time. So his delusions are more based on “none of this is real”, “someone is recording everything I do and setting me up to fail” and “my ill-wishes on people can and will come true if I dwell on them too long.”. Government conspiracies are one of things he is skeptical about because he thinks most conspiracies are either “CIA admitted to this twenty years ago” or “antisemitism”.

He’s taking online free college classes that don’t actually give him any college credit, but they have good information and help him feel like he’s working towards something. He plans to double major in computer sciences and electrical engineering, minor in marine biology. He’s wanted to join NOAA since he was twelve and he is nothing if not stubborn.

There you go. These are my characters, now. I have custody.

#maximum ride on main #Maximum Ride rewrite

35 notes · View notes