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kheta · 4 years

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3 for 1 AU’s

Hikaru no Go shizz.

Three au’s I probably won’t write, but need to get the ideas out.

1) Sai a Paediatrician with Anxiety™ and Hikaru, who will pull him kicking and screaming into the world of Professional Go.

Featuring:

A) 23 year old Sai’s strict but loving family, who had pressured him into being a medical student, he tried to negotiate being a nursing student but they wouldn’t have it, so now he's doing his first year of work following graduation at the hospital his parents own shares in, because he likes helping families out. He’s passionate about his career and is happy enough to leave Go to the side. After all, Go is just a hobby, he’s not even that good, right? (WRONG! WRONG ON MANY ACCOUNTS!)

Sai learnt Go from his Uncle and was unreasonably obsessed with the game, studying kifu and tsumego for hours and going to Go salons when he had free time all his life. He’s never been as passionate as anything as he had been about Go, but succumbing to his parents pressure he gives up his dreams of playing Go professionally, instead dedicating his life to helping people and making his parents proud.

Hikaru is a 15 year old kid with a badly broken leg that he soundly ignored for much too long, which finds him in the very hospital that Sai is working in. Sai gets attached to Hikaru and because the kid can’t do much but play video games (on the console that everyone shared in the Play Room) and board games (that are mostly missing pieces and tattered) he finds himself drawn into playing Go with his Grandpa and Sai, the nice but whiny doctor who likes to hang around work and interact with the family’s there during his spare time.

When he learns how to actually play and make sense of Go, Hikaru stops calling Sai nice, because the guy was an actual monster when it came to Go, soundly thrashing both children and adults unlucky enough to ask for a game, even his Shindou-go was reliant on the fact that his students saw what paths he’d create for them.

After a year in hospital and three surgeries later, Hikaru is out of hospital with the unfortunate news that he can no longer play soccer competitively, despite being other wise healthy. He then just slams himself into the world of Go, becoming just obsessed as Sai.

Both Sai and his grandfather want him to consider going Pro, especially considering the improvements he’s made in a few short months, but he resolutely refuses, even when he becomes flushed with challenges on Net Go. His reasoning? He won’t become a pro unless Sai himself can honestly tell him that he’s happy with only playing Go in his spare time. If he’s happy with the few games he manages to play.

On the flip side of this verse, no one knows who the mysterious and infuriating hikaru is, nor do they know who he studied off of, after nearly 15 straight losses on Net Go however, hikaru suddenly starts winning more and more of his games, able to go toe to toe against some of the known Professional players online, even if he himself was obviously still learning the game. Yoshitaka Waya knows only one thing, whoever this brat is, he’s gonna regret the day he called him an ‘over aggressive know-it-all with poor defence.’ 2) Hikaru the Soccer Player.

Hikaru is the cheerful, popular first string midfielder for his school’s soccer club, and Akari is their team manager. Together the duo have helped their middle school and high-school team reach the national winter soccer festivals three years in a row. Despite being a calm, calculated mid-fielder and being captain of his Middle School team, Hikaru has never been invited to any J.League tryouts, mostly because scouter’s say that he plays a relatively risk free game, with a low risk-low reward steadfastness that doesn’t reflect his competitive mentality.

Akari is one of the best managers at her school, an excited, cheerful girl who always knows what to say to bring her team out of a slump, matched with above average intelligence and insane training plans that her Coach is absolutely in love with, Akari’s love for the game was one born from her wish to understand her best friend that much more. In everything she does, Akari only hopes for the best for the boy she thinks of as her brother. After being voted as Vice-Captain for his school team, hitting a slump in his skills and nearly losing their team’s placing in the Summer tournament over the span of two weeks, Hikaru walks into a Go salon near his school to unwind, hoping to maybe win a few games like he did whenever he visited the Go club that Akari is also apart of. Unfortunately, he has the displeasure of running into one Ochi Kosuke there and while the other teen is surly, arrogant and infuriating, he’s undoubtedly a much better Go player. With the rest of his summer being amounted to three more soccer games and two one week training camps, one at the very beginning and one at the very end of summer, he finds almost half of his summer break is spent playing Go toe to toe with the arrogant teen.

In his hunger to win, Hikaru comes up with some unorthodox and risky Go plays to use against Ochi, plays that become integral to his team’s development as he finally utilises his analytical skills to their fullest capabilities, gaining the attention of some of the best under-19 clubs.

Meanwhile, Ochi knows that Hikaru is a famous soccer player at his High-School, but witnessing the insane improvements Hikaru makes in his Go skills in the span of one summer has him questioning if this teen really is just a soccer-idiot like the rumours say he is. After all, an idiot wouldn’t be able to lose against a Professional Go player at an even game with only a two moku difference. As he watches Hikaru improve, he has a faint, eerie desire for his (somewhat) friend to really take up his favoured game. Playing against Akira Touya has been what Ochi’s dreamed of for the past year he’s been a pro, but he can’t help but yearn for a true, all or nothing game against the jock who just won’t leave him alone.

in other words, a sports anime fanfiction with a lil bit of go because soccer player Hikaru is an absolutely amazing trope lmao.

lil fax about this au:

a) Ochi has a crush on Akari that only develops after he plays her in a game of Go, while she isn’t anywhere near as talented as her friend, she has three years more experience in the game and an uncanny intuition that makes her an amusing opponent. added to that she’s very pretty and since Ochi’s default emotion is crush them until it stops mattering, he manages to annoy the manager in a way only Hikaru has managed before. will this be a ship? no clue my dudes.

b) Sai is quietly alive, and is the neighbour to Hikaru’s grandfather, a sickly man who can rarely leave his house because of his frail constitution. After Hikaru coerces his grandfather into teaching him about Go following a week of straight losses against Ochi, Sai offers to teach the younger kid. Unfortunately Sai is no teacher and while he very much enjoys the game against the young teen, his only advice comes in the form of mercilessly ripping all of Hikaru’s strategies apart until Hikaru can pinpoint where exactly he first messed up and how he can recover from it.

c) Hikaru and Ochi become (begrudging) friends, only because Hikaru stubbornly refuses to stop bothering the other teen, if only until he can beat Ochi by a 8 moku difference, the same difference that Ochi had during their first game against each other. Ochi grouches and glares and puts his nose up, but is internally embarrassed at this new, affectionate and loud teen who always manages to say endearing stuff with a casual, relaxed face. (Who the heck says “One day I’ll catch you and force you to look only at me” with a serious face?????)

d) after discussing some plays in front of him and enthusiastically (on Hikaru’s side) teaching him the rules of soccer, Ochi offers valuable insight to the Hazeko soccer team. Akari hates it and hates him with a passion when she sees how good his analysis of the game is. It took her most of elementary and their first year of middle school to show any worthwhile game plays and he offers some barely two weeks into learning their plays? All the while with his nose in the air???? Hate.

e) before Shindou and Fujisaki showed up, Shindou with his swift observation skills and hard borne techniques and Akari with her spartan training methods, Haze High’s soccer club had little to no presence. With the two present and having just barely lost their semi-finals placing in the summer tournament, Hazeko returns to the Winter Kokuritsu determined to prove that their summer performance was no fluke. Now, if only they knew what the heck being stars meant and why Shindou suddenly developed a God Complex... Also who is the brat that Fujisaki is trying to crush and why the heck do they have to prove that with her guidance (re:torture) they’re better than that four-eyed brat? Why are first years so weird?

3) Akari the Pro and Hikaru who’s kinda just there until he very much isn’t 17 year old Fujisaki Akari leaves the Go world in an uproar after the former model enters the Pro exams as an outsider and wins with a spotless record.

Claiming to have started Go at 12, everyone in the Go world becomes curious about the young teen, especially when she manages to lose her Shodan match against Gosei-Ogata by a three moku difference. They all wonder the same thing, how did this model get so good and if she has been playing Go casually for five years, then why is it only now that she’s decided to become a Professional? At the peak of her modelling carer?

Inversely, Akari became a Professional Go player to honour her late mentor Sai, a kind neighbour who taught her and Hikaru to play Go while babysitting them for a week when the two were 12, despite them both thinking it an old man’s game, the competitive kids continued playing the game hoping only to defeat their teacher, who urged them to continue on the pro path after discovering that the two were great students.

The duo entered their middle school Go club and by their second and third year, they managed to win against Kaio, the best middle school Go club in Tokyo.

At 14, Akari loses interest in the game having never won against Sai and losing against Hikaru for the better part of the year, and she can’t help but feel like Hikaru will leave her behind when he considers becoming an Insei. Then, the unthinkable happens, Sai passes away while playing against the duo.

For the next year neither teen speak of Go, hanging out like normal until Akari gets offered a modelling contract that keeps her from school and in extension keeps her away from her childhood friend and Hikaru starts hanging out with delinquents.

Fed up with Hikaru distancing himself and finally realising that he was leaving her behind like she had feared years ago, Akari slowly begins to play Go again, relearning the game as she went to Go salon’s and using her old NetGo account. After nearly a year of being reacquainted with the game, she takes the pro exams with only one thing in mind, to play the coveted Kami no itte that her mentor sought after. If she’s already lost two of her closest people, then she’d learn to love the game that she used to fear, to keep the one thing that still tied them together, their style of Go.

plot points:

a) Sai was an up and coming former professional who was one win away from gaining his first title, Kisei, when a politician accused him of money laundering and fixing his students games. with this scandal, his students abandon him hurt because they assumed he didn’t have faith in their Go abilities and his opponents no longer face him with their all or with respect, thinking him a cheater and a disgrace to the Go community. after a win in the Kisei tournament that he knows was gained because his opponent was distracted by the rumours, Sai ceases to play Go competitively, having given up on his family’s approval and name for the game and lost seemingly everything that made the game worthwhile. He meets Hikaru and Akari almost nine years later, despite his personal misgivings and anxieties, he finds himself entranced with these young, talented children, gaining a lost love for Go.

b) At 29, a random park visit with the kids prompts him to face Touya-Meijin, who had been at the park playing a game against his student. Faced by his old rival who had continued to soar in the Go community years after his departure, Sai plays what he announces to be the most beautiful game he’s ever played. The two battle it out on the board for nearly three hours, when Sai finally beats the Meijin by a half a moku difference. Only three people in the world viewed this match, though the Kifu became sought after and studied long after it happened. The viewers? Ogata Seiji, Fujisaki Akari and Shindou Hikaru. Ogata has no clue what happened to the bright, but fearsome child who accompanied the strange Sai and bulldozed his way into the post match discussion, but he knows that where ever Fujisaki wondered, her friend would no doubt follow, no one that talented and that enthusiastic about Go could ever truly give it up.

c) Akira has no clue who this Fujisaki is, having not payed much attention to the Professional Exams considering his own preoccupation in the Honinbou tournament, but when he sees her kifu he has only one question, who is her mentor and is it the elusive man who managed to convince his father to give up his titles and become an amateur? If so, where is that mentor now? And how can Akira convince them to face him on the Goban?

d) Hikaru just wants people to stop spreading rumours about him and Akari, because the buddying model really doesn’t need all the flack people give them. If it means distancing himself to save her reputation, then he doesn’t care, ‘cause hell if he’s gonna let people be convinced their dating and it’s gross that those rumours even exist. It comes as a shock then, when after a campaign that makes her the face of popularised clothing franchise and a new perfume scent made for her, she decides to quit modelling and forces her way into the Go world, against her agency and her parents wishes. Watching his best friend take the Go world by storm, Hikaru can’t help but be angry at Akari for taking up Go again, all the while aching for the game he used to play and wondering, if maybe, Sai would be okay with him playing their game without him. Is it truly okay to play Go without Sai? And if so, when can he trounce Akari? Because she’s gonna get an ego if only upper-dan’s could beat her, and no way was she allowed to be better than him in the game! He refuses! Now if only he could remember how to get good at reading other people’s hands again, because now he could barely read ten moves into a game before getting lost. Also, why didn’t they play good stones like Akari and Sai? Everyone kept playing shitty stones and he can’t read their moves if they use such sloppy hands, jeez!

e) Waya has no clue who Shindou Hikaru is, or why he’s convinced he can beat the newest prodigy Fujisaki Akari when he plays like a clumsy beginner, but he’s determined to keep playing the fascinating teen, especially when he reveals his NetGo nick to be hikaru, a player who dominated the NetGo server nearly four and a half years ago and who hadn’t been seen since a year after he started playing. While Shindou definitely has some untapped potential, he can’t help but wonder why the teen can’t play with the breathtaking speed and monstrous traps like he used to.

f) Hikaru and Akari made each other’s NetGo accounts bc they’re brats like that, so Hikaru’s name is hikaru because Akari couldn’t think of anything else and it wasn’t taken and Akari’s is Fuji-Brat, because Hikaru is an ass like that, a lot of Go players would watch as the two matched each other stone for stone, surprised by how little these mouthy kids knew about the pro world, despite playing at insei level.

g) Sai just doesn’t mention things about the pro world bc he’s used to not talking about it and so, when Akari and Hikaru enter the professional Go world, they’re clueless about everything. They have no clue what dan is, but they know what a Title is, even if they only know the name of two of the titles and they still sometimes forget about the timer and why do they need oteai matches so often, also aren’t those creepy old men kinda weird, i don’t care if they’re important they’re staring and that’s rude/annoying. The Go world is predictably affronted by the duo’s lack of knowledge and it’s the cause of a few minor problems and scandals.

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moera6 · 4 years

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End of year review 2019

I don’t know how many of you are actually interested in this, but I do it mostly to see for myself how much has happened this year. It was a year with many up’s and down’s, in real life as well as in fandoms. I try to stick with the fandom part in this post.

I started writing fanfictions in january this year. I’ll link a few of them later. I also want to thank @manonisamelon for inviting me to the Thiam Discord server, I’m very grateful for all of you great people on there <3

I also started making fan edits, mostly thiam ones, during summer this year. I have a few unpublished ones where I just tried different things out. You can find the ones I published under the tag #myedit . I used the phone app picsart for them, if anyone wants to know.

My first ever fic is called The Little Wolf Cub, a fic where Theo is turned into a wolf cub and they have to figure out how to turn him back.With 13,5k+ it’s also my longest fic.

Then I wrote a fic for a pairing I don’t really ship because I read Steo week and thought it meant Scott/Theo, where I see a bit of chemistry between them. 5 Minutes later I realized my mistake but I already told I would participate and didn’t want to skip out again. So that’s how What’s Broken Can Be Fixed happened, a Steo Soulmate AU.

Around the time where I started to make edits, I also made a fic with a corresponding art. The fic Hot Swat Guy is about Liam having to testify in court and Theo as the Hot Swat Officer. It’s based on a friends’ experience and gifted to them.

I also participated in @officialthiamlibrary ‘s Halloween Event. That’s how Mood Changing happened, where Theo gets cursed by a witch. Here I want to thank all the people who made this event possible and my #HouseTheo teammates. You guys are awesome.

My most personal fic this year was Humanitas Suprema Lex, a Thiam Military AU. It was very emotional for me, that’s why I rewrote it several times and left it kinda vague in some aspects. Btw, it also has a corresponding fanedit, also under the tag #myedit.

Last but not least, I have a few small new year’s resolutions. I want to finish my posted wip Deafening Silence, and my not posted wip that’s a crossover between Teen Wolf and Supernatural. It already has a small fanedit that I will post when I publish the story. I also have a Thiam Descendants AU edit ready, which I’ll most likely post in the next days. I just don’t know yet if I’ll write anything for it.

So this was my end of year review 2019, turned out a bit longer than I thought but oh well ^^. I wish you all a very happy 2020 <3

#personal shit nobody asked for #end of year review #2019

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cubedcoffeecake · 6 years

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Fanfiction Writer’s Appreciation Day

When I saw some other people making posts screaming positivity into the void of Tumblr, I knew that I couldn’t rest until I had too.

I don’t have near as much time to read fanfic as I used to, and I can’t remember the last time I regularly read fics that were longer than drabbles. If I read a long fic now, it’s solely because I want to see more by the fic’s author, and I want to spam all of their works w love.

In fact, my entire involvement w the fandom community has changed a lot over this calendar year: I’ve begun to actually interact w other creators and fans in the community, and that has come to be the most important part of fanfic for me. I’ve always loved the content, that’s what brought me here, but I’ve stayed for the people I’ve met and friends I’ve made.

So! This is a fairly-inclusive list of a WHOLE BUNCH of authors that I love and why I love you. <3 <3 In the spirit of Fanfic Writers�� Appreciation Day, here we go!

There is no one I can start w besides my irl best friend @strangenscary. Hanged Man convinced me to get a Tumblr, first off--I wouldn’t know any of you guys if she hadn’t talked me into that. And she’s also the reason I read Harry Potter! And, beyond just being a fantastic friend, she writes really awesome Kpop drabbles (that you should 100% check out if you like Kpop fandoms).

Then, next in the chronological order, is @jbankai89. I found their fic I Will Save Myself while searching for really angsty fics and have kinda been along for most all of the ride? The fic just ended a week or so ago and I rec it wholeheartedly--it’s got one of the best journeys through mental health healing and learning how to work out a relationship of anything I’ve read. I’m really glad I got to follow along w it!

I made a personal resolution to start commenting on fics and interacting w other authors about halfway thru I Will Save Myself. It was this decision that gave me the courage to leap into HP’s corner of Tumblr this past May, and by asking into Drarry fests I met @lettersbyelise! Elise is a beautiful lovely human being and I’m really glad I know her now! She introduced me to the Drarry Discord, which is how I met most all of the rest of you guys I’m about to rec.

@drarrymylove... Jeni is absolutely fantastic. I actually did follow her and read all of her everything before joining the Discord, and I was over the moon to get to interact w her. I beta’d her Drizzle and was internally fangirling so hard I had to take a break and chill out. You’re a super cool and special person I’m really glad to have met!!

@xx-thedarklord-xx is a fandom giant for really good reason. All of Sam’s fics are literary gold. She beta’d a drabble for me a couple months ago and I was starstruck, remembering spending long nights binging all of her fics. The Flower War fic was the first one she wrote since I’ve been following her and it’s one of my absolute favorites. If you’ve never read her stuff go find her!

@aibidil I’ve never interacted w much but seems like the helpful Mother of the Discord. She swoops in to save the day all the time and I’m always amazed. Not to mention her fanfic is incredible.

@l0vegl0wsinthedark, @goldentruth813, @snortinglaughter, @erin-riwen, @lqtraintracks, @carpemermaid, @synonym-for-life, @violetclarity, @bixgirl1, @writcraft, @parkkate, @harryandhislittledragon, @foularcadebanana, spookywoods and tari_vilya are all really cool peeps I know but haven’t interacted w enough to tell you specific awesome things about them, but they’re all great too! And their fic!!! All of their fic is entirely worth your while to check out!!

@drarrytingz, @ladybraken, @yosoylaborinquena, @gnarf, @unicornsandphoenix, @restlessandordinary, @slythrns-heir, @maesterchill, @breathofmine and @ununquadius are all fantastic people I’ve met thru beta’ing. Either I beta’d for them or them for me. Betas are such a huge huge part of fanfiction and such important people to writers I wanted to give y’all you’re own paragraph, but a number of you I’ve also gone on to get to know some of the best out of all of my online peeps!

ununquadius, goodness, I always get super excited when I see that you’ve written something! Every time! And even more when I get to beta it! <3 <3 We have, like, an actual author-beta thing going on and I think that’s the absolute greatest.

drarrytingz, gnarf, yosoylaborinquena, y’all are so nice and supportive and I love seeing you guys in my dash!!

@slythrns-heir deserves more accolades than I can come up w--from beta’ing to just generally appreciating authors and fans SO MUCH and doing so much for us and the community--you’re an absolute gem. <3 <3

@call-me-hopelesss is an awesome writer and I’ve been slowly chipping away at their Ao3 works for several weeks now, but that’s not what I think is the coolest, most mind-blowing thing about them. They leave some of the best comments I’ve ever seen, and they leave them all over!! I remember reading thru HD Birthday Bash and being really touched by how they’d left a really thoughtful comment on every fic. That kind of support is amazing, and you just blow me away. <3

@doubleappled, @nifflers-n-nargles, @llap115, and @harryromper are really really cool mutuals who I’ve really noticed thru fests. I always get really excited to see them on an author list for an anon fest, or commenting, or anything! They’re all as awesome as their works, and you should totally go check them out too!

But all of these peeps have been Drarry Discord peeps!! A few weeks after joining over there, I also joined the Tomarry Discord. As much as I love my Drarry friends my awesome Tomarry friends are a lot louder and talk a LOT so I really kinda know them a bit better.

@mirandaflamel, my wonderful owl wife, all of my love to you and your beautiful stories. @kuffymik, you and Meb terrify me just a little and I occasionally flee from your convos, but your writing is fantastic and I love you too. Same goes to @lord-of-the-snakes, tho I actually think I’ve known you the longest and that you’ve staked a place at the very very bottom of the Tomarry pit, so everything I said to Mik tenfold, really. @nencenedril, you sometimes seem to be the sane one and sometimes surprise me with how unusually creative you are. You’re really cool. <3 @cybrid, I followed your fics way before I realized that was YOU, and then I squeed a lot. But! You’re a fantastic author and mod and I’m really happy you stick around and join in on our insanity. I send my love to all of the other lovely writers I know on the Tomarry Discord whose Tumblrs I don’t know. (A special thx on this special day to Itsy’s perseverance w all of us)

@batsutousai gets a paragraph. If you’ve never read anything by Bats, you really really should stop everything and go read some of Bats’ fic. Any of Bats’ fics. They’re all legendary and deserve odes to be sung to them. I’ve held it in for this long so I might as well reveal that I’ve actually genuinely been following Bats since 2015, way before I knew anything about Harry Potter, bc her Marvel fics are also fantastic. When I got into HP I remembered that she’d also written for that fandom and went and read all of her stuff and that’s genuinely how I fell into the Tomarrymort pit. (thx Bats.) SO yeah, again, go check her out!!!!

While we’re on Marvel, @veliseraptor is someone I don’t think I’ve ever had the guts to speak to, but she is an utter legend as well and is rather solely responsible for the Stoki ship. I’d suggest giving her works a try if you don’t mind being pulled into a new ship--bc I would bet money you can’t read Lise’s works without getting pulled into Stoki, they’re so good. Kudos to a fandom goddess over there.

Back to HP, @asexual-lovegood and @rose-grangerweasleyisbae are my two all time favorite Tumblr drabble writers, so if you can it’s totally worth it to check them out. All of their stuff is gold. All of it.

To close up my really really long Author Love post here, I present to you Lomonaaeren, @renderedreversed, and wynnbat, who I’ve also never spoken to but when I try to think of mind-blowing, I-can’t-put-this-down fics by people I don’t really know, these are the three authors that come to mind.

So! Lots of love to everyone! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Fandom community is brilliant and amazing and you awesome authors are a huge part of what makes us exist. Thank you all!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#text post #fanfic authors appreciation day #love you allllllll #so much

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thewritingstar · 5 years

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thewritingstar’s 2K19 Writing Challenge!

So its 2019! Yay! but also eww. Everyone has new year resolutions and we tend to fizzle out of them immediately BUT this year I want to do something wild. (its not that wild idk) A Writing Challenge!

Basically I want to write EVERYDAY OF 2019!

i know, i know! It seems impossible but I have a plan.

Basically everyday I will find a prompt. (obvi, I know) and well...you guessed it Write!

What will the prompts be? Also they could be short drabbles or longer

the prompts will be a series of things.

A simple noun: ex: Flowers

“ It could be a strand of dialogue”

“Maybe even a”- quote

Or it could be an ASK from you guys

I want to challenge myself to become a better writer, and you only get better by writing. Right???

SOOOOO, what do I write?

Doesn't have to be romantic if you don’t want but most likely will.

Well, I am fandom trash so heres a list of what I’ll write for: (Bold are main)

Miraculous Ladybug (Love square, Djwifi, like anything really)

Fairy Tail ( Gruvia, Nalu, Gajevy, You know, the main ships. plus others)

Star vs Forces of Evil (so many ships)

Once Upon A Time

Sherlock

Ducktales (not Webby and a triplet, sorry, unless friendship, but we living for them gay ships ;))

My Hero Academia

Kingdom Keepers

Powerpuff Girls

Gotham

And probably more if you ask, Or recommend me a show and maybe Ill watch it so...

I will write for most ships M/F, F/F, M/M BUT I WILL NOT do: Incest, Pedophilia, or abusive...so if you like that sorry but not sorry.

I am a college student and school starts at the end of the month so I will try my best to keep up , but if I do miss, then I will try post double the next day.

I encourage writers and even not, anyone who wants to, to try and force their creativity to flourish! Hopefully this works.

I think I’m going to make a Jan prompt list to start things out, BUT if you send an ask or prompt, it will be done first, even if i have a list!

Time to make 2019 my bitch :)

ps: This is a side blog, Main: cobblepottantrum: so if you get a comment from them, its still me :)

I hope you all enjoy a years worth of shitty writing. Also these most likely will not go on to my fanfiction, some might idk, but anyways, Lets get a popping

If I miss, feel free to yell at me :)

#thewritingstarwritingchallenge #thewritingstar #miraculous ladybug #fairy tail #OUAT #sherlock #ducktales #my hero academia #kingdom keepers #powerpuff girls #gotham #timetowrite #sendanask

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thisgirlhastales · 6 years

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after that last anon you answered, i'm now curious about how you pace your stories! i'm usually a little too excited for all the things i want to happen, so i do a lot of skipping ahead and getting to the meat for a fast-paced story. but!! your space cowboy stories are SO GOOD and i know they wouldn't be the same with my kind of pacing, so yeah. i'm curious ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hi there, honey! :D *hugs*

Okay, this was another question I had to think about for a long time … I often conflate pacing and overall story structure, so fair warning, that is probably gonna happen here.

I’m going to start off with a fairly obvious fact, which is that different stories require different pacing, and that the rules in fanfiction, I find, are a little looser.

This is because we rarely need much exposition in fanfiction, since we’re assuming our readers already know these characters and these settings, so we don’t have to worry too much about explanations or descriptions. That being said, there is always some world-building (particularly in AUs), and that can be pretty challenging to insert without disrupting the … narrative flow, I guess?

There’s a sort of … ebb and flow, overall, to a story. There are quiet times and loud times. There’s talking and then there’s action. Now, the other reason why I say fanfiction is different is because I am perfectly happy reading a story that is literally just characters being domestic, or having emotional conversations (communication, I love it so much) or … every other fun trope in fandom.

I think the way I’ve always approached pacing is to fret about it in the planning stage. Once I start writing, I’m very character-focused, so my main concern is keeping everybody as in-character and “realistic” as possible, since I usually already have an outline with all the plot/emotional beats in place (written or up in my head). But pacing does come up at times even when I have most of the story planned, and I think the biggest indicator of a pacing issue is when you get stuck while writing.

Getting stuck isn’t always about that narrative flow — there are hundreds of reasons why I get writer’s block — but I have found that sometimes it’s because I’m writing something that’s disrupting the flow. Sometimes it’s a dialogue scene that runs too long, and characters are saying/explaining things that I could just show or summarize in a descriptive paragraph. Sometimes it’s a scene that’s totally redundant, period, and I scrap it entirely.

In other words, skipping ahead and getting to the meat is totally valid on occasion ;D

As for the space cowboys … *throws hands in the air* … Here’s a look as to how that mess got organized into a semi-coherent flow of words — massive, likely incoherent ramble under the cut!

First off: a one-story example — The Six-Gun Sound.

That story has the most basic pacing ever. Action scene at the start, exposition/dialogue scene right after that sets up the main plot/motive for the characters, followed by a steady build that goes right into that heist. The heist then slowly builds until BAM. Everything goes wrong, there are literal explosions, and then a climax of both the main plot-line and the emotional plot-line. (There is pacing set for both of those when I plan, usually. The plot informs the emotional beats and vice versa, depending on which is more important at any given time.)

In shorter words: action, calm, build-up to more action, big action, calm, and then the resolution. That kind of “ebb and flow” is basically how most stories work, I believe. If you have that going on in your tales, then I think you’re golden :D

I totally break those rules in many of my other tales, but, yeah. There it is ;)

Now, secondly: the entire Trouble’s Making Everything All Right series.

That is just … well, a giant mess, but it’s one that I find works for me? I might be confusing pacing with other parts of narrative structure, but overall, there’s a certain ebb and flow that leads to the first huge climax (which I believe is Short Change Heroes). Um, I’m going to try and explain and hope that it helps you?

Trouble Coming is essentially my expositional story (though I initially had no idea how long this series would go). If, for example, in your own writing you feel like “skipping” all that establishing information, well, I’m gonna be horrible and give you that old cliché — show and don’t tell (much).

I still had to explain some stuff in that story, but having no Team Voltron, having Lance and Keith sitting around that poker table, cheating at cards (Keith), and flirting as a distraction (Lance), while being tough as nails, pretty much establishes that something not good has happened. Especially as Keith worries about making ends meet.

Following that, the attack afterwards, which they treat as business as usual, barely blinking at the deaths they cause … Again, I don’t think I needed to tell you guys that they had been through some bad stuff. And they were continuing to go through some bad stuff. I don’t actually explain much until more than halfway through the story, when they’re back at the inn and there’s a moment of calm. (Again, I’m not great at pacing, but I tried to put a bit of ebb and flow in this series as a whole.) (Action at the beginning, sort of, and then calm.)

Six Gun Sound is pretty much all action, and it retroactively explains partially how Lance and Keith came to be the way they are (and how they got together ;D), and since you’ve already seen how jaded and broken they are in Trouble Coming, I like to think it makes for a sharper, harsher contrast to see them more … good just as they cross that line into becoming The Two McClains. (Lots of action/emotional conflict.)

Following that action-filled, emotional story, we’ve got Broken Bone World, which jumps forward to the more jaded Lance and Keith, but this time, we get to see them relax and perfectly in love with each other — and generally more settled in their new mercenary existence. (More calm.)

And then, Shuffling Madness, back in the past, is lots of action, lots of suffering — I hoped that seeing them as Paladins after three stories as space cowboys would be quite impactful in hindsight? Basically, seeing them being so optimistic about their chances makes you wince on their behalf because you, as the reader, already know how they end up. (Plenty of action/emotional turmoil.)

This is the point where the series is actually building towards the main climax. I had hinted at Keegin Dras going all the way back to the first story. But Paradise City is where the tension, um, kicks up, I guess (some of y’all may remember that cliffhanger? Er, sorry?) (Build-up to lots of action with a sudden stop and cliffhanger.)

I really like contrast, so this is my own personal opinion/writing style, but, um, yeah, there you go.

Edit: Damn, I totally forgot to mention Heaven Above You, which was probably one of my favourites to write — it prolongs the tension between Paradise City and Short Change Heroes, but also, while it isn’t too heavy on the action, I think of it is as still tension building because it shows that defining moment when Lance chose to take a life that wasn’t a direct threat to him. It’s an almost purely expositional story, but it sets up the emotional conflict of Short Change Heroes, while Paradise City sets up the main plot conflict?(Bit of action, mostly calm, but lots of emotional turmoil.)

Short Change Heroes is a damn disaster, but it’s a disaster I kinda really loved writing. There are just so many conversations. It really shouldn’t have had that many dialogue scenes. Holy crap, that war council is a story in and of itself, and I am definitely not Tolkien, holy crap, no.

But, um, here’s where I contradict myself and say — I didn’t care about pacing, I just wanted to get these people (Team Voltron + The Two McClains) actually talking because communication rocks, and they absolutely would’ve wanted to talk a ton after a year apart.

I did try and chop up some of the dialogue/exposition with a few action-type scenes (the interrogation scene, then that gang ambush, and that brief attack during the war council), but those scenes were also key to the plot-line and the emotional stuff. I was focused on pacing when I chose where to place those scenes, so that things would feel balanced and move forward smoothly.

So, if in your own writing, you feel like you want to skip ahead, but you also feel like whatever information you need to impart (or interaction these characters need to have) is important to the plot/pacing (e.g. you need a quiet moment before battle or you need to show off an action scene before you can get to that juicy emotional resolution), find a way to make it fun for you to tell! I am a sucker for gritty honesty or sappy confessions or no-holds-barred arguing, so that’s how I handle some exposition. I love creating angsty situations instead of just explaining that someone’s had a bad time.

Basically, in summation: I try to keep action and moments of stillness somewhat balanced.

— A huge burst of action demands a longer moment of quiet/reflection, or a longer emotional conversation and/or resolution afterwards.

— A massive emotional fight/discussion demands that the characters either have time apart or some kind of quiet/temporary peace after (even if the fight isn’t resolved right away or the discussion hasn’t unloaded everything in their heads).

This is my preferred rhythm to story-telling, both on small (one story) or large (series) scales. This way a story doesn’t feel too stilted, or overly long (too many quiet moments?), or like it isn’t letting up/allowing the reader to settle (too many action moments?) — an even rhythm/flow carries the reader along easily (hopefully).

I break these rules of mine often, but this is a general rant ;D

I really, really hope this has helped you, that this hasn’t bored you to death, and that I haven’t been totally nonsensical. I am honestly not even sure I answered this question at this point — it kinda just turned into a freakishly long ramble. *sweats* Sorry!

You are very kind to ask, and I am so grateful to you! Best of luck with the writing, dear! *all the hugs*

#voltron #the two mcclains #space cowboys #on writing #rants and ramblings #answering the kind folks who ask stuff :)#jilliancares

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ierogenvy · 6 years

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2018 writing project

hey guys.

so one of my new year’s resolutions for 2018 is going to be to write more, and to hopefully participate in NaNoWriMo. that being said, i needed a way to motivate myself to write throughout the year. so i thought i’d just write people little ficlets/drabble/some kind of fanfiction for their birthdays. “but wait, you have three friends, and all of their birthdays are in the same month. what do?” so here’s where you guys come in. all i need yall to do is to send me a message with your birthday and general fandoms + otps. as it gets closer to your birthday i’ll ask about what specifically you want out of the fic (angst, fake relationship, etc), then on or soon after (like three days) your birthday, you’ll get a happy birthday message from me as well as a gifted fic on ao3. (if you dont have ao3 i’ll link your tumblr/other social media in the notes section of the thing)

that’s generally how it will work ! please reblog if youre interested and to get the message out there ! im open to literally any fandom (if im not familiar i’ll do my research and bug you with questions so its a good work) and most pairings. i think this is going to be a lot of fun, and if it goes well i figure i can do it every year until no more people are interested.

sidenote: im v sorry if your birthday is in the first week of janurary, you may have to wait longer than others for your fic. if u send me your info really soon, i should be able to have it up in time.

#mine #text #writing project 2018

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turn-your-gaze-on-this-dumptruck · 6 years

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Resolutions With the Sanders Sides

This fic was inspired by the last post I reblogged. This is my first fanfiction, so please be kind!

Pairings: None. Just platonic relationships!

Rating: Like... G? There’s nothing risky about it.

Word Count: 1,675 words (wow!)

Warnings: Brief mention of fire, Virgil flips Roman off once. Other than that, nothing.

PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT OR SOMETHING, I SERIOUSLY NEED HELP WRITING THESE CHARACTERS.

There was a loud, blaring beeping sounding through Virgil’s room. Virgil nearly jerked awake hearing the unfamiliar sound, and nearly fell asleep in the two seconds it took for the alarm to start screaming at him again. Groaning, he turned his face over and squinted angrily at the alarm clock. He lifted his hand and let it drop upon the top and finally, mercifully, the alarm silenced. He sighed and rolled over in his bed and sat up.

Logan had taken it upon himself to come up with a New Year’s resolution for each of the other sides. Completely uninvited. Logan’s resolution for Virgil was to begin waking up at seven thirty, which he presented to Virgil by gifting him a digital alarm clock. Virgil went along with it, sheerly because he knew that if he didn’t wake up by an alarm clock, then Logan would come in and rant at him until he woke up. Logan’s for Patton was to try and get a handle on his emotions in times of trouble. As in: don’t make Thomas’ brain go into hyperdrive whenever the dog dies in a movie he happens to be watching. As for Roman, Logan settled for forcing Roman to take ten minute breaks every hour that he works, as Roman is actually a huge workaholic.

Virgil stood up slowly, not wanting a head rush so early in the morning. He looked around his room and stretched. The room was painted a deep purple, the only lighting presented in a shaded lamp in the corner and a string of lights over the door that Patton had gifted him. He leaned over and pulled his trademark jacket of his computer chair and shrugged it on before popping down into the Common room. Down at the dining table was Logan, munching on a piece of toast topped with Crofters, perusing that Trivial Pursuit book he loved so much. Virgil frowned as he noticed that none of the other traits had shown up yet.

“I thought we were going to have that resolution thing this morning.”

Logan jumped slightly, jerked from his book. He took a brief moment to swallow his bite of toast. “Yes, we were. It appears that the others are taking their time, I assume.”

Virgil frankly wasn’t surprised. Logan and Roman had begun these annual meetings to try and come up with a personal resolution for each trait, deciding that a better mental state of mind would benefit Thomas. So far, only Logan had stuck through every year. The others mostly kept up to it for a couple weeks and then a big video idea would come up and they would be on overtime. Then the resolutions just kind of... died.

“Hmm.” Virgil went into the kitchen, grateful for the holdup. He usually didn’t enjoy these little meetings. It was fine to set goals, he knew that, the problem was the follow through. He really didn’t see the point in setting these if they wouldn’t follow them. As usual, he wasn’t hungry, so he just made himself a cup of decaf coffee and sat in the living room, grabbing his crossword book from the stack of outdated magazines on the coffee table.

Though he was sure the Fanders wouldn’t have guessed it, he actually enjoyed puzzles. Not as much as Logan, but he found them relaxing. He got to work on the crossword before he noticed Roman and Patton pop into the common areas.

Virgil spared them only a glance from his puzzle. “Look who showed up.”

Roman looked down his nose at the jacket-clad trait and gave a close-mouthed smile. “Like you’re one to talk, you were late last year. And the year before that, and the year before that.”

Virgil smirked and flipped him off.

Patton gasped. “Virgil!”

Virgil concealed his smile by looking back at his crossword. “Sorry.”

“You’re okay, kiddo’. Let’s just start the year well, right, guys?” Patton encouraged.

“Yes, absolutely.” Logan said absently, finally putting down his book. “Let’s begin the meeting. Finally.”

It took longer than it should have to get everyone seated, what with Roman wanting to get something to eat before the meeting, Logan and him going back and forth about it for a few minutes, and Patton jumping in, insisting that they needed to have full stomachs before the meeting began, before Logan finally realized that he was outnumbered and stewing silently as the two left to make breakfast. When they finally returned, Patton with Nutella and sprinkled toast (Virgil was disgusted), and Roman with sugared strawberries, the meeting finally began.

In the end, Roman decided to try to crank out more quality content for the Youtube channel. Virgil thought that this would most likely go against the resolution Logan set for him, but he settled by giving a doubtful hum. Patton went with sorting out some of the junk in his room. Virgil, through the encouragement (Patton) and the Prodding (Logan and Roman) Virgil finally settled with a simple resolution: Drink at least one glass of water every day.

Logan announced that he had six long-term resolutions. “The first is to apply more to my studies. The second is to learn more about astronomy. The third, to re-organize Thomas’ home. The fourth, to come up with a chore schedule to make Thomas’ life easier, the fifth to read at least three books, a month, and the sixth is to host a meeting weekly to discuss our resolutions.”

There was stunned silence around the table for a moment.

“Logan, that’s never going to work.” Virgil finally said, breaking the silence.

“Of course it will.” Logan protested, glancing back at his list. “The chore schedule should make more time to complete the resolutions.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, Wanna’- be - Hades is correct.” Roman added.

Virgil glanced over, surprised that Roman was on his side.

“With all those, you’ll have no time for fun!”

Patton nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. And as a result, you’ll be unhappy! Your health is what comes first, Lo.”

Logan stood and grabbed the list of resolutions on the table. “You’ll see.” He got up and grabbed one of the magnets off the fridge and stuck the list on. “These will only make our lives better.”

Virgil frowned, doubtful.

The week passed by slowly, as usual. Virgil began by forgetting about his resolution until he was finally hungry enough to grab a string cheese or something similar from the fridge, spotting his resolution. As the week went on, though, he just naturally went for water whenever he was thirsty. He started feeling immediately better. Less tired, and he found that he was kind of in an uplifted mood. Not much, but just enough for him to spot a difference. To be quite honest, he was proud of himself. He didn’t think he would make it that far.

Patton seemed to also be keeping up, as he would carry a box or two of his junk down the stairs. He swore that he wasn’t throwing anything away, just keeping it somewhere else so he would find more room to sort out his things.

Even Roman didn’t get bored of his resolution. You could occasionally find him with a notepad and quill, periodically dipping the quill in the ink and jotting down ideas, drawing pictures of his visions for the video, his papers spread around him.

On the third day, Virgil frowned when he noted that the resolution’s sheet was shorter than usual. He had just filled his glass and was taking the first sip of water when he pulled the sheet out from under the magnet. He squinted when he noticed that Logan’s resolutions had been cut clean off. He put the paper back up on the fridge, assuming that Logan had brought up his section into his room so he could focus on his goals. Though Virgil sometimes clashed with the guy, he had to acknowledge that he pulled through.

The last day of the week came by, the day for the discussed resolutions meeting, and Virgil hadn’t seen Logan all day. This was normal, seeing as how he spent most of his time up in his room. He came down to retrieve his crossword puzzle when he saw Roman and Patton chatting in the living room. He tried to escape with only a nod when he was stopped by Patton.

“Hey, Virge, have you seen Logan?”

Roman turned around to face Virgil.

Virgil frowned, stopping behind the couch. “No, why?”

“We haven’t seen him all day. We figured that perhaps he was trapped in another one of his projects, but he would never forget the meeting.” Roman had the usual bravado in his voice, but Virgil could hear a bit of anxiousness in his voice. It was a sound he was well acquainted with.

Virgil’s frown deepened. Roman was right. “Have you guys even thought to check his room?”

“Every time we knock, he doesn’t answer. I hope he’s okay.” Patton’s gaze became unfocused, most likely worrying about his friend.

Virgil tried to come up with words of comfort, but that wasn’t exactly his thing. As he sat there, pondering what to say, A familiar pop sounded from next to him. Virgil jumped in fright. Next to him, Logan stood with a crazed look in his eye, disheveled hair, and a piece of paper in his hand.

Without saying a word, he brushed past Virgil in a crazed fast walk toward the kitchen.

The other sides only glanced at each other before they stood from their seats and followed Logan to the kitchen.

They were met with the sight of an opened first aid kit, and Logan dousing a crumpled ball of paper with rubbing alcohol in the sink. He struck a match and dropped it onto the paper, expressionless as the flames erupted, nearly licking the ceiling.

“LOGAN!” Patton shouted as he pushed past Roman and Virgil as he pulled Logan away from the fire.

Virgil and Roman only stood, dumbfounded at Logan’s rare fit of passion.

Without making eye contact, Virgil simply said: “I told him it was a bad idea.”

Roman, watching Patton give a rare lecture to Logan, only nodded.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #new year #2018 resolutions #first fanfic #fanfiction #Patton saves the day #again #They don't deserve him honestly #Patton is a bean #But so is Virgil #Ugh #logan sanders #patton sanders

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lauramkaye · 7 years

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Fic: Storage War

Based on a prompt by @kat-har. Archive post will follow shortly!

“You really don’t have to do this,” Phil said, hovering in the doorway.

“It’s really fine, babe,” Clint said, pulling out another box and coughing at the cloud of dust that billowed off it.

“I promise I didn’t ask you here intending to pawn off all the work. Maybe you could take a break until I—”

“Phil. It’s fine. It might just as well have been me getting called in.” Clint smiled at him, hoping it was reassuring. “I came to help, I’m gonna help.” He waved a hand at the storage unit, piled high with the detritus of Phil’s childhood and teenage years. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about just throwing it all in a U-Haul and driving it to New York—”

“Ugh,” Phil said. “No. We’d end up storing it for another decade before we found the time to deal with it.”

“Then let me help you,” Clint said. Reaching out, he snagged Phil’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, scraped a little from where he’d barked his hand on the wall trying to get the rusted padlock open. “That’s what marriage is all about, right? For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, for clearing out thirty-year-old storage units…”

Phil chuckled, turning his hand to cup Clint’s cheek. “I don’t remember that part in the vows.”

“It was right before the part about worshipping each other with our bodies,” Clint said.

“Ah, my favorite part.” Phil bent to kiss him, quick and soft. “I’ll be as fast as I can.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Clint said. “I’ll have fun. Maybe if I’m lucky there’ll be baby pictures.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “More likely to be awkward, pimply middle-school pictures.”

“I bet you were adorable. Go, help catch the bad guys while I work on sorting the greatest fashion hits of the early 80s.” He reached into a nearby box and pulled out a “Frankie Says Relax” t-shirt. “I think I might take this one home.” Phil laughed. “Just remember the size of our apartment when you’re deciding what you want to keep,” he said. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

“Sure thing.”

Clint smiled to himself as he watched Phil leave, then settled in to continue working through the massive pile of stuff. Phil had ignored the storage unit containing the contents of his mom’s house for decades; he’d still be ignoring it, if the facility wasn’t closing down, slated to give way to a new block of hipster lofts or something. So Clint, being a good partner, had taken some leave time and joined Phil in Wisconsin to deal with it.

They’d already worked through the furniture, picking out a few pieces to keep and donating the rest along with most of Phil’s mom’s clothes and personal items. What was left was mostly all Phil’s things. Honestly, Clint was kind of looking forward to going through them; he’d never known Phil as a kid, and there was something precious about seeing his carefully packed boxes of comics, the handmade quilt in red, white, and blue stars, the worn and ragged ear of a much-loved stuffed bear.

Clint had prioritized the things it would be easy to sort: outdated clothes that wouldn’t fit them, furnishings that had seen better days, an ancient cracked clock radio. The comics were easy, too, in the other direction; Clint wasn’t sure if Phil would want to keep or sell them, but he knew Phil would want to go over the collection in more detail.

He set aside a box of 8-tracks, humming Devo to himself, opened a box labeled “notebooks” in neat block print, and stuttered to a halt, blinking rapidly.

The box did contain a number of three-ring binders and spiral notebooks, but that wasn’t all; right on the top was some sort of comb-bound, copy-shop booklet which bore on the cover an overblown illustration of Captain America. Cap was tied to a post, his uniform shirt ripped to highlight his bulging muscles, and a masked Hydra goon was threatening him with a gun while cowering away from Peggy Carter, who was wearing a military uniform and brandishing a laser gun that Clint was pretty sure wasn’t historically accurate. Above Cap’s head, a hand-lettered title proclaimed the publication to be called “Rule Britannia.”

“Oh my god,” Clint said, and dove into the box with glee.

Some time later, he’d examined a remarkable number of Captain America fanzines. The earlier ones were general-purpose, with articles about Project Rebirth and the European Theater and, in one case, a painfully adorable letter from a fourteen-year-old Phil about the importance of the Howling Commandoes and Peggy Carter to the success of the SSR during the war. Later on, though, the general zines gave way to more focused ones, and Clint had to hold back his joyful giggles by main force. He’d found baby Phil’s stash of secret erotic Captain America fanfiction.

Best. Day. Ever.

Surprisingly, Phil’s interest seemed pretty evenly split between seeing Cap with Peggy Carter and seeing him with Bucky Barnes. Clint would have predicted Carter all the way, based on Phil's deeply nerdy obsession with her (and it was deeply, deeply nerdy, like, topic-of-his-graduate-thesis nerdy), but apparently Phil's appreciation for a smart-mouthed sniper was of longer duration than Clint had previously realized.

Tempted though he was, Clint didn’t take the time to read the stories; there just wasn’t time. He contented himself with thumbing through the zines, looking for bookmarks, stray notes, or other signs that might show him which ones had been Phil’s favorites. Unfortunately, Phil seemed to have been just as meticulous then as he was now, and the zines were in remarkable condition for their age. Clint set the last of them aside in a pile and picked up one of the spiral notebooks.

It had Cap’s shield on it, of course, and was well used, the corners worn and the spiral starting to work its way out of the top. Clint smiled, flipping open the cover. He felt a pang at the sight of younger Phil’s handwriting, recognizably similar to the way he wrote now, but more cautious, the letters formed deliberately as though Phil had been trying hard to keep it neat. Then he stopped looking at the page and started reading it, and he had to stop and clutch it to his chest in delight.

Phil hadn’t just read Captain America fanfiction. He had written it.

Clint sat his ass down on the dusty concrete floor of the storage unit and started perusing his treasure.

Honestly, if Clint had ever considered the question he would have said that baby Phil’s stories would feature a thinly-disguised version of himself. Fictional Phil might be a previously unknown Howling Commando, or maybe some other kind of ally—a soldier, or part of the French Resistance, or a British spy—who came through in a tight spot to save Cap’s life and/or mission. (Which wasn’t really that far-fetched; it was pretty much the same kind of thing that adult Phil did for his agents now.) Possibly the stories might have ended with Cap showing his appreciation by inviting fictional Phil to bed, or at least with a manly embrace of gratitude. After all, wasn’t that was what teenage stories were for? Trying on scenarios, writing about the life you wish you had. Clint hadn’t been much for writing as a kid, but he’d sure as hell spun up enough daydreams, trying to fall asleep when it seemed like every inch of his body hurt. Daydream Clint was the star of the circus. Daydream Clint had a family who loved him. Daydream Clint had money, had a home, was the best archer in the world.

Daydream Clint had lived a life pretty much like the one Clint had now, actually, if you swapped out the circus for SHIELD. Clint kind of wished he could go back in time and tell his skinny, scared teenage self the good news. Stick with it, kid, things will turn out great for you one day.

Anyway, Clint wanted to know what Daydream Phil was like. Phil, being Phil, had helpfully dated each of his notebooks, so Clint piled them up in order, grabbed the earliest one, and started reading.

An hour later, he set the next-to-last notebook down, rubbing at his eyes. For all that Phil’s zine collection ran to happy romantic endings, the stuff Phil had actually written was pretty much the opposite. Clint knew—he’d known for years—that Phil’d had trouble as a kid, trying to reconcile his bisexuality with his dream of going into the Army. But Clint had never expected to see all of young Phil’s confusion and anger and hurt and fear projected onto stories about his boyhood hero.

The Steve Rogers in Phil’s stories was pained and unsure, in love with Bucky and Peggy both and struggling to find a resolution that didn’t hurt either of them. The plots were pretty clichéd, and the prose was a bit overblown, but the emotions came through clearly. Steve Rogers, as Phil had seen him, felt like he had no good choices, torn between Peggy, Bucky, and his moral obligation to fight Hydra. If he went with Bucky, he lost Peggy and neglected his duty; if he went with Peggy, he lost Bucky, and felt guilty for allowing society to dictate who he loved. Just because he loved a woman, that didn’t mean he wanted his choice of partner forced by anything but himself. Clint wondered why it had never occurred to Phil to put Captain America in a fictional ménage-à-trois. It would present a neat solution to the whole love triangle issue, at any rate. Although he supposed it was probably a lot harder to think outside that particular box in the days before the internet. Who was supposed to be the role model, Three’s Company? Ugh.

The last notebook was all one, long story, and it was the most heartbreaking of all. In it, Cap was pining for his two loves as per Phil’s usual, but every other chapter was a short story where Steve imagined what would happen in a different scenario. Clint read a description of Steve and Bucky leaving the Army to live together, their happiness soured by Steve’s guilt over leaving the war. He read an account of Steve marrying Peggy and Bucky marrying someone named Lorraine. The two men set up housekeeping next door to one another, named their children after each other, while Steve tried to use his real happiness to bury the part of himself that never stopped wanting Bucky. There was a chapter where—finally—Phil had considered the possibility of polyamory, and Steve daydreamed about a life where they all got a house together, where Steve had a wife and a husband both, but even in that fantasy world they spent their time hiding, from the Army or the press or the neighbors, sending Bucky on false dates to try to keep their secret. Not one of the scenarios had a happy ending, all of them going back to the same place: Cap, alone and hopeless and pretending everything was fine. The story ended as Cap was piloting the crashing plane, giving himself one final dream as the water rose up around him. He dreamed of Bucky being found, alive after all, and he and Peggy comforting each other. They’d be perfect for each other, Steve thought, brilliant and beautiful together, and they would have amazing children with dark wavy hair and maybe they’d name the first boy Steve.

Clint read the final lines of the story, his chest aching.

It was for the best, Steve thought, taking one last gasping breath before the water closed over his head. They both deserved the best. They both deserved a happy ending.

Clint closed the notebook and took a deep, shaky breath. He was not going to cry over ancient Captain America fanfiction, he wasn’t.

He might possibly be going to cry a little over the writer, though. Thinking of Phil reading all those happily-ever-afters but never able to bring himself to write one of his own…

“Clint? How’s it going in here?”

Clint turned around sharply as Phil came around the corner. Shit, how long had he been reading?

“What’s wrong?” Phil asked, his smile falling away as he saw Clint’s face. “What—oh.” He looked at the pile of zines and notebooks scattered around Clint, the tips of his ears going red. “Oh god, I thought I threw those away.”

Clint dropped the notebook and scrambled to his feet, crossing the cramped space in a few strides and wrapping his arms around Phil, holding him tight. After a moment, he felt Phil’s arms come up around him, as well, and Phil patted Clint’s shoulder tentatively.

“Are you okay?” Phil asked quietly, brushing a kiss over Clint’s ear.

Clint sniffled. “I’m fine, I just—Phil. The happiest ending you could think of was Steve dying so that Peggy and Bucky could marry each other? I feel like I need to go back in time and make sure Teenage You is okay.”

Phil was quiet, his arms tightening around Clint. “Oh,” he said, softly. “Yeah. I was… things were tough, when I was writing those.”

“I could tell. When I found the box, I thought it was going to be cute, you know? Funny.” Clint nestled his head into the crook of Phil’s neck, taking comfort in the familiar bergamot and sandalwood scent of his aftershave. “I thought I’d get to tease you a little, maybe. I never thought you’d be into writing tragedies.”

“I was a melodramatic kid,” Phil said. “I had a girlfriend, and I loved her, but I also had a wicked crush on a guy I was on swim team with, plus I wanted to go into the Army… I felt like every choice I had was wrong somehow, like no matter what I did I’d end up unhappy.” He stroked his hand down Clint’s spine, heavy and reassuring. “If I’d known then how my life would turn out, those stories would have probably been really different.”

“Yeah?” Clint made himself pull back enough to see Phil’s face.

“Absolutely,” Phil said, and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to Clint’s mouth.

“All I would have needed to see is you.”

“That you ended up with a husband?”

“That I ended up with a happy ending,” Phil said, and Clint had to kiss him again until they were both breathless.

They ended up taking the box back to New York, where it found a new home in the back of a closet. The story kept nagging at Clint, at odd moments here and there, until finally he scrawled a new chapter in the back of a steno pad, an epilogue where Steve woke up in a hospital, the war won, and Bucky and Peggy both there to welcome him, holding hands with him and with each other. He felt kind of silly about it, but also like he owed Phil’s long-ago self some kind of resolution.

When he opened the box to stick the steno pad in, he pulled up short at the sight of something bright blue. He picked it up; it was a sheet of blue cardstock, and mounted in the middle of it was one of the photos from Clint and Phil’s wedding. They were dancing, looking into each others’ eyes. They looked devoted and intent, blissfully in love.

At the bottom of the page, there was a message in Phil’s neat, blocky handwriting.

And they lived happily ever after.

#Daily Phlint #phlint #fanfic #fic prompt

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queenlua · 7 years

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cool stuff i noticed while rereading the script of Inception

I wasn't planning to write this all tonight, but uh, I really love inception y'all.

NOLAN’S WRITERLY FLAWS

Here's a lengthy bit from the original script, which got cut from the movie:

MILES Everybody dreams, Cobb. Architects are supposed to make those dreams real.

COBB That's not what you used to say. You told me that in the real world I'd be building attic conversions and gas stations. You said that if I mastered the dream-share I'd have a whole new way of creating and showing people my creations. You told me it would free me.

Miles looks at Cobb, sad.

MILES And I'm sorry. I was wrong.

COBB No, you weren't. Your vision was a vision of pure creativity. It's where we took it that was wrong.

It's a rare glimpse into a side of Cobb we don't really see in the movie—young, drawn to the idea of pure creation, to all the beautiful high-minded concepts behind this dream-sharing business. You can almost feel Nolan himself, giddy, beneath this—as a creator that's got to be one of the coolest parts of this whole idea of dream-sharing; hell, when I first saw this move in The Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Ten, I went straight home and started writing some fanfiction, not about any of the characters, but about the intensity of feeling behind sharing dreams, what it would mean to create in that way—

—and it was totally right not to stick it in the film, because though Inception is a beautiful film with beautiful ideas, it's a heist movie at heart, and it has to focus on the pragmatic while giving the lofty beauty of it all a sly wink. The "youthful idealist architect Cobb" only comes across in subtext—a slight lightness in his step during his training sessions with Ariadne, maybe a bit when musing over what would draw the intense and beautiful Mal to him.

Here's another bit—from the scene when Cobb is having his final confrontation with Mal, and she's trying to convince him to stay in limbo with her. I italicized / surrounded with asterisks the bit that got cut:

MAL So certain of your world. Of what's real. Do you think he is- (points at Cobb) Or do you think he's as lost as I was?

COBB I know what's real.

***MAL What are the distinguishing characteristics of a dream? Mutable laws of physics? Tell that to the quantum physicists. Reappearance of the dead? What about heaven and hell? Persecution of the dreamer, the creator, the messiah? They crucified Christ, didn't they?***

COBB I know what's real.

MAL No creeping doubts? Not feeling persecuted, Dom? Chased around the globe by anonymous corporations and police forces? The way the projections persecute the dreamer?

Gosh, that line is just... what? We have this super-emotionally-charged moment, the make-it-or-break-it for Cobb to wrest his way from Mal's grasp, and we're throwing in random references to quantum physics and Christiainty??? It made the cutting board, as it should have.

But what I like about these lines is that they show us Nolan's rough edges—and it's Nolan the goddamn nerd, who loved Star Wars as a kid and talked about The Matrix a lot when talking about this movie and, based on his writing style, I honestly suspect is a little bit of a closet anime nerd. This is a guy who's really jazzed about ideas, who veers on the side of babbling too much about a beloved topic, or just reaaaaally wants that physics reference in there because of the cool parallels with the other ideas. I love it.

He also tends to add awkward touches of melodrama when left to his own devices. A line like "I performed [inception] on my wife and reaped the bitter rewards" gets transformed, with Leo's quiet humanity, into "I knew inception was possible because I did it to her first." Which gets a little into "what the actors brought to the movie", which I'll get into later.

I have a pet theory that what draws people to, say, a favorite author, or a favorite filmographer, is a love for both what they do well and their flaws. I was struck by this when reading a review of the Sea of Fertility tetraology, by my favorite author, and found myself basically agreeing with the review—the only difference was, the shit that drove the reviewer crazy were the things that gripped me in weird ways, that I recognized as flawed but still enjoyed warmly. Mishima's writing is melodramatic and Isao comes across as weirdly robotic and his pretenses at intellectualization come across as strained and confused—those were all things that drew me in deeper.

Which is not an argument against editors, and doing the Actual Right Thing; this is stuff that very rightly made the cutting board. But when it's a tough call for what the right way forward is, Nolan goes a little bit dorky, a little bit melodramatic, and those tiny moments are delectable.

MAKING EMOTIONAL SENSE

Something that struck me, when I rewatched Inception this weekend: Cobb's description of inception on Mal doesn't entirely make sense. It's not quite impossible according to the rules of the script, but it intuitively seems like performing inception in limbo is a very different thing than doing it from within a dream. He refers to having built everything in limbo; why would anything in limbo relate to specific parts of one mind? And it seems like it'd be easier to trace the genesis of the idea when you're right there in limbo with them when they do it, I'd think?

The point isn't whether it makes sense or not—I'm sure nerds on the argument could argue either side—but the point is that you don't even question the mechanics of it when it's described, because it made complete emotional sense. All through the movie, we've been getting hints that something terrible happened, some subtle thing Cobb's got stored away—and when we finally see it, with that choice imagery, oh, lifting the little locked-away top in Mal's home and spinning it—makes you say oh, makes you gasp, brings it together.

I went to a talk once by one of the writers of Lost, and he talked about this concept in the context of the episode "The Constant." Basically (as is tragically typical with Lost), a character's gotten his consciousness stuck in some sort of bizarre time loop, he keeps flashing back for longer and longer periods of time, and he's gonna die if he can't cut out this "simultaneously stuck in two time periods" thing. So a physics-y character says that Desmond needs to contact a "constant", something present in both time periods, so he can "stabilize" his mental state, and who does he call but his ex-girlfriend.

Does that make a goddamn lick of sense? No, not really. But the show'd already gotten us incredibly invested in this relationship between Desmond and Penny, they've been hinting for a while that Penny's been desperately looking for Desmond, and Desmond's love for her is really heart-melting, and they're using a science-y word ("a constant! like gravity's a constant, bro!"), and the feeling of something converging is the thing that really carries the moment. Lost pulled this kind of shit a lot, really, and it explains a lot of the divisiveness of the show. Invariably when I talk to people who liked Lost, they're usually watching for character, and freely confess the plot wasn't even trying to make sense after season two but that's so not the point. If you were focusing on the plot, you were doomed to be disappointed.

I want to spend more time thinking about this—how you construct something that makes "emotional sense." Do it wrong and there's just a gaping plot hole or bizarre deus ex machina that's going to irk everyone watching it. And, to be clear, I actually don't think these sorts of scenes work in spite of the vagueness/implausibility, but because of it—the important thing in Cobb's moment of inception is the beautiful resonance of that spinning top, the important thing in that Lost episode is the feeling that somehow, some way, love can be the thing that grounds you and saves you. Maybe that's the answer, really—you have to earn it in some other way. Lost earned it by pouring so much attention into Desmond's backstory, and his love for Penny, and the brief desperate glances we got into her search for him—to the point where we were yearning for a resolution. Inception did it in a more Nolanesque way, with its wonderful, precise control of exactly what is on the screen at all times—leading to a the confluence of motifs coming together all at once. Cobb repeats "an idea is like a virus", we see Mal's house again, we see the top, and the salt-swept shores of Limbo and the pair of them clinging to each other, all coming together at once.

WHAT LEO BROUGHT TO COBB

I get the sense, reading the script, that Cobb was meant to be a more, uh, "edgy"/dark/moody-teenage-protagonist-esque character than he actually became. There's just touches, here and there, in the script. There's a scene where, in the movie, Arthur sympathetically says, "I know how much you want to go home." In the movie, Arthur's posture is closed-off, and he's staring out a window, and says nothing until Arthur talks again. In the script though, Cobb cuts him off with a sharp "No, you don't." Touchy, tetchy.

Or how about this bit:

Cobb GRABS SAITO AND PUTS HIS HEAD TO THE FLOOR, gun pressed into his cheek. Saito looks into Cobb's eyes--sees he will pull the trigger. Saito BLINKS, looks away in shame. When he NOTICES SOMETHING. And starts LAUGHING.

Oh man, Cobb is so tough, making the tough Japanese businessman look away in shame—

—except, in the movie, at this point Cobb's getting totally desperate, and instead of playing it deadly-cool, he's waving a gun and fucking screaming at Saito, "TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW! TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW NOW!", and Saito performs no "look of shame."

The other instances are more slight and tedious to cite, but—there's moments in the script where Cobb was supposed to hold a broody stare, and instead got flustered and cut into the next topic right off, moments when he's giving cocky grins that turn more poker-face-y in the movie.

It gives you an appreciation for really good actor can do, what they're bringing to the movie—the subtle changes of expression, turns of phrase, ways they hold themselves can change so much of the mood and feel of a character. I don't think of Cobb as like, the Greatest Character Ever, but as an anchor for the movie, he's pretty solid and rather unique—not quite cold-and-aloof-tragic-past type, not quite the hard-edged-bristly-loner type—something more mature, more weathered, more adult. He comes across as a touch more cerebral, a touch more intense, and those touches resonate really well with what's a reasonably cerebral and a very intense movie.

EXPOSITION IS HARD

Inception is an exposition-heavy movie. I remember it all flowing seamlessly when I first watched it, but on re-watches it does feel like a bit much, and sometimes awkward (Arthur explaining the concept of limbo while in a shouting match with Cobb, urgh).

But it's interesting how much more there is that didn't even make it into the movie—tons more slips of awkward exposition that got cut. For instance, in the script verion of Cobb's visit to France, when he's trying to get the professor to get him an architect, there's a whole conversation that lays out the “what happened between Cobb and Mal” alarmingly baladly:

COBB I know. I thought you could talk to Marie about bringing them on vacation. Somewhere I could meet--

MILES Why would she listen to me?

COBB You were married for twenty years.

MILES She blames me as much as you.

COBB Doesn't she understand that my kids need me?

MILES Yes, she does. We all do. Go back and face the music, Dom. Explain what Mal did.

COBB Be realistic, Stephen. They'd never understand− they'd lock me up and throwaway the key. Or worse.

MILES You think what you're doing now is helping your case?

COBB Lawyers don't pay for themselves.

I'm glad that didn't make the movie—we get the sense that something happened, but we don't know Mal did something, and while it's made obvious Cobb can't go back to America due to a crime, he doesn't drop a line like "lock me up and throw away the key" ick, etc.

Perhaps Nolan deliberately wrote in more exposition than necessary, with the idea he could cut it based on what sort of context the actors could imply with their actions? The trickiest thing with writing exposition, I think, is that whole "the writer already knows everything" bit—how do you determine what people need to know, and when, and how, when you've already got the whole picture and the pieces seem so obvious to you? I've received praise on some of my original fantasy writing for executing well on this sort of thing—but (1) I think it's goddamn impossible to do much fantasy/scifi writing at all without gaining chops in this area; it's the central challenge of the genres, and (2) I think it's easier in a prose setting—you can toss in throwaway words and references more easily, adding texture and feel without actually following up on it, whereas a movie is crunched for time and every word/reference/etc usually has to count, materially advancing the plot and the reader's understanding.

#inception

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bromfieldhall · 7 years

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What Makes You Beautiful - A Mentalist Fanfiction

TIMELINE: Set some in the future after series four finale. Minor spoilers.

SYNOPSIS: “Yesterday I made a New Year’s resolution. I’m going to give myself one whole year to woo and win the love of California Bureau of Investigation’s Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon.”

PAIRING: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

CHAPTER 11

"If only you saw what I can see, You'd understand why I want you so desperately"

~ What Makes You Beautiful ~ 1D

November 22nd – 9.15pm

Rigsby brought Ben up to the office last week.

It doesn't happen often, hardly ever in fact but he had a day off and was meeting Grace for lunch. It was nice. He's a cute little boy and was running around in that bouncy, almost clumsy kind of way that probably seems really fast to him but in reality he was hardly moving at all.

I love kids at that age.

He charmed everyone, especially Lisbon, and she'd been so delighted when he'd held his arms up for a cuddle. She'd quickly obliged and had looked over at me with a beautiful smile of pure happiness.

You know that moment when everything around you seems to fade into nothing and there's just you and that one other person…?

Yeah. That was it for me.

And as I stood there just staring at her, I experienced a most profound longing to see her holding our child one day.

I have to say it caught me off guard. I've had the odd, fleeting wisp of an idea float through my head but it's not something I've given any real serious thought to…I mean, we still haven't even slept together yet.

And that's another thing I have a 'profound longing' for…although, true, it's not quite as innocent as my yearning for settling down. Still, now that the elephant that was my ring has finally left not just the room but the entire building, I really want to take our relationship to the next level. And from the way things were heating up between us just a couple of hours ago, I think she's ready too.

If only Cho hadn't interrupted us with that damn call about work…I swear he's still paying me back for that hug.

Anyway, I'm hoping that tomorrow evening we can pick up where we left off. I figure that if we close the case tonight then we shouldn't have any more interruptions. I can wait a little longer. Not much, but a little.

So now we're here, pulling up to a rundown shack out in the middle of nowhere at some ridiculous time of night because we finally got a break on a case we've been working on for the past week.

Well, actually we're only ten minutes away from the I-5 and it's not really that late, but still…

Lisbon kills the SUV's lights and we roll to a stop a little distance away from where we've been told the killer, Robert Finlay, is holed up.

"Wait here," she orders unnecessarily.

I don't need telling twice. I reconciled myself to the fact that I'll never be a hero a long time ago. Besides, I'd rather watch Lisbon take charge. I do so love a woman in control.

I grab hold of her hand as she's about to get out of the vehicle and she looks back at me with a faintly puzzled expression.

"Be careful," I caution softly.

She gives me a nod and smile before slipping off into the darkness.

I open my window a little so that I can hear what's going on. I know Cho and Rigsby are out there somewhere with her but that doesn't quell the usual feeling of anxiousness that always settles in the pit of my stomach whenever she heads off into the line of fire this way.

I automatically go to fiddle with my ring but as soon as I touch bare skin I remember that I'm no longer wearing it. I'm mostly used to the fact now but during tense moments like these I tend to forget and fall back into the habit.

It's odd, but although Lisbon and I have talked alot recently, the one thing we've never spoken about is my ring…not aloud anyway. We had one of those silent conversations that we seem to have perfected so well over the years.

It was the day after I'd told Lisbon that I loved her. I'd made myself a cup of tea and a coffee for her and had placed the mug on her desk before settling comfortably on her couch. She was scribbling away at some report or other and I didn't want to interrupt, I just wanted to be near. I'd just taken a sip of my drink when I realised that she'd stopped writing and I looked over to see what she was doing.

She'd stared at me intently then deliberately looked at my ringless hand and back up again to meet my gaze with concern in her eyes and a questioning quirk of her brows. I'd mimicked her pointed looks to my hand and up again then smiled back softly and nodded slightly. A moment later she'd blushed and smiled too then had gone back to her infernal scribbling.

No need for words; we understood each other perfectly.

And I'm happy with that. There's no need to dissect my decision. We both know what it means.

Besides, we've spent a lot of time talking about other things over the past few weeks. I want her to see that I meant what I said. I am opening up more and it is because I want to. Emotionally, it's actually been quite cathartic. I'd even go so far as to say that I believe it's brought us closer together.

Amazing really considering I so very nearly pulled us apart through my own damn idiocy. I learned my lesson but good and I won't risk losing her again.

Speaking of which, I should have seen or at least heard something by now. I guess our man isn't here after all.

The moon comes out from behind some clouds overhead, giving the clearing and shack that eerie, muted silvery glow that stands any horror movie in good stead and I try to catch a glimpse of my friends.

Nothing.

Something doesn't feel right to me and I'm just contemplating getting out of the car when, suddenly, all hell breaks loose.

Loud gunshots ring out; the staccato bursts of sound piercing the otherwise quiet night. I can see flashes of gunfire through the dirty, cracked window panes and hear Rigsby shout out something unintelligible as they try to apprehend the suspect.

As quick as the action starts, it stops again leaving the surrounding area unnaturally silent once more. I stare through the windscreen and just catch sight of the front door opening and our man creep stealthily out before clouds capture the moon in their embrace once more leaving everything in a blanket of near darkness.

I'm undecided what to do. I don't want him the get away but, although I'm certain Lisbon has a gun secreted in just about every available orifice within the car, I'm hesitant to confront him outright because well, quite frankly, I hate guns. Words are my ammunition but I doubt he's in any mood to talk right now. Maybe if I could just stall him somehow then Lisbon and the guys would have enough time to come and get him.

I can hear footsteps coming nearer, crunching on the dead twigs and leaves that are strewn over forest floor and know I don't have much time. I lean over the console and turn the keys that are still in the ignition so that I have power to the car's controls. Without starting the engine, I press the switch for the headlights and sit up in time to see the bright lights come full on and illuminate the clearing.

The man stops dead in his tracks and holds his arm up across his eyes, momentarily blinded by the glare. He recovers far quicker than I anticipate though and I fling myself back down across the console when I see him suddenly level his gun right at me.

Crap.

The windscreen erupts in an explosion of noise and I cover my head with my hands as I feel the shattered glass cascade over me in a brittle waterfall.

I'm suddenly very aware of my perilous situation and yet all I worry about is that Lisbon is going to be furious with me for getting the car damaged.

Before I can sit up, my door is yanked open and our suspect roughly drags me out by my arm. I wince as I feel the wrench on my shoulder at the violent movement but manage hold my hands up in a submissive gesture in spite of the pain.

He points his gun at my head and I swallow hard, trying to dampen down the sense of fear and panic I can feel rising rapidly within me. They say you can see your life flash before your eyes right before you die…all I see is Teresa's beautiful face.

And then, unexpectedly, I hear her voice…

"Put the gun down, Finlay," my fair rescuer commands but I can hear the slight wobble in her voice that belies her concern about the situation.

I look past our suspect and feel relief wash over me when I see her. A quick once over convinces me she's unhurt and my gaze darts to Cho and Rigsby who stand a couple of feet away either side of her; all their guns are trained on the man that was about to kill me.

Finlay stiffens momentarily then looks at me in a way that I already regret. Why, oh why did I turn on those blasted headlights? I should have just let him go and we could have found him another time…preferably in the daylight.

He moves quickly and grabs me by the jacket, pulling me to him. The next moment his arm is around my chest and his gun is pressed against my temple.

"No, you put the gun down or pretty boy here is dead," the killer threatens sourly.

Pretty boy? Really? Pretty I can live with but, boy? I'm offended.

"You won't kill me," I say keeping my voice as casual as I can manage. "You know they'll just come down harder on you in court…if one of these guys doesn't shoot you first of course."

"Shut up!" he orders gruffly.

"Jane!" Lisbon admonishes harshly.

"And you probably don't have any bullets left after that little altercation in the shack…"

"Wanna test it out, big mouth?" Finlay asks, pressing the barrel so hard against my head and I'm sure it's going to leave a mark.

"Jane, be quiet," Lisbon says curtly the fear and dismay clear on her face. She shakes her head at me in warning then relaxes her stance and holds up her gun for him to see before bending to place it onto the forest floor. She glances at Cho and Rigsby who reluctantly follow suit. I'm certain it's the wrong thing to do and am proved right when Finlay suddenly turns his gun on Lisbon.

My reaction is pure instinct at seeing the woman I love threatened and I push aside my dread and panic to elbow him hard in the gut then stamp heavily on his foot. It's enough to make him drop his arm but he still clings onto me for dear life.

All of a sudden it feels as if I've been hit by a truck as something, or someone, crashes into us and I'm slammed hard, face first, against the SUV with Finlay crushing me from behind. Pain radiates from my chest and breathing suddenly becomes more difficult. Abruptly, I feel that Finlay is gone and I turn slowly, leaning back on the car before sinking to the ground as I try to catch my breath.

I see Rigsby cuffing the suspect then Lisbon is on her knees by side, looking at me in blatant concern as she runs her hands over my face and body.

"Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Are you alright? Are you hurt? Where does it hurt? Jane?"

"That was you?" I ask in disbelief. "I thought it was Rigsby. Do you have some hidden super power or something you haven't told me about yet?"

"Patrick this is serious, where does it hurt?" she asks still prodding me.

She reaches a tender spot on my chest and I bat her hands away with a wince and a sharp intake of breath that just causes me even more pain.

"I'm fine, woman, stop fretting, I'm just winded, that's all," I gasp out a little more tetchily than I mean to be. It's just that I have a sinking feeling that it's slightly more serious than that because the throbbing pain coming from both my shoulder and my ribs is immense.

She looks understandably put out by my tone and I let out a huff of annoyance at myself for taking my hurting out on her. I gingerly push myself up to stand and she grabs hold of my injured arm to help. I let out a little yelp of pain and her arm immediately goes around my waist to support me.

"I'm getting you to a hospital," she says firmly. "Cho, call for back-up and tell them we need an ambulance." She pauses to look at the damaged SUV. "And a tow truck."

Cho does as he's asked and I, of course, protest most strongly.

"I don't want to go to the hospital, Lisbon," I say, wishing it didn't come out sounding quite so petulant.

"Stop whining," she snaps with a touch of irritation.

The fact that I need her to help me walk and I really can't quite catch my breath to argue the point means that I know I don't have any way to form a realistic retort. She leads me over to a large up-ended tree and I sit down on the trunk gratefully.

"I'll be right back," she says before walking off to where Cho has just finished his call. They have a quick conversation then he nods and she comes back over to me. "I'm going back to CBI with Rigsby to book Finlay. Cho's going to stay with you until the ambulance arrives."

I nod and reach out to grab her hand as she turns away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you," I tell her with a contrite smile as she looks back. "And I'm fine, really. A couple of hours rest and I'll be good as new."

She stares back at me dubiously.

"Boss? Finlay's in the car. You ready to go?" asks Rigsby, interrupting the moment.

"Yeah, sure," she replies before looking back at me and giving my hand a brief squeeze. I think she's about to leave when she surprises me by bending down and giving me a quick kiss on the lips. "Go to the hospital, OK? You need checking over properly. I don't want to come out of interrogation and see you sitting on that damn couch."

"Meh," I reply blithely, not at all amazed how she knew that I'd already been trying to think of a way to persuade Cho to just take me back to the CBI too.

"Please, Patrick…for me?" she requests softly.

Although it's too dim to see her eyes in detail, I know exactly the appeal that her green depths hold for me to do as she asks.

Damn.

I was so determined not to go as well but how can I say no to that?

"Fine, I'll go," I mutter unenthusiastically.

"Good," she says far too brightly for my liking. She stands up and gives me a smile then heads off to the other car where Rigsby is waiting.

I hear them drive off then Cho saunters over and sits down next to me. He notices me grimace and from the wry quirk of his mouth apparently finds it amusing.

"How you doing?" he asks.

"I've been better," I reply, trying to find a comfortable way of sitting without moving too much. It's not an easy thing to achieve.

"Lisbon hits like a freight train," he comments wryly.

"You too?" I commiserate then take a deep steady breath and exhale slowly.

"Yeah. During training once. My back hurt for a month."

"That's my Lisbon, no half measures," I murmur affectionately then try to shift my posture again.

He looks at me for a moment then stares back over the clearing, still illuminated by the SUV's lights.

"Ambulance should be here in a minute," he says unnecessarily. I nod and he frowns a little, obviously perplexed. "Aren't you going to talk me into taking you back to the office?"

Really? Does everyone just know me now?

"Nah, thought I'd better get checked out this time," I answer dismissively.

"Lisbon told you to go, didn't she?" he guesses and actually grins. "Rigsby was right. You are whipped."

"If it's the right woman, Cho, it's simply called compromise," I counter with a smile.

He shakes his head still smiling then we hear the distant wail of the emergency services heading our way. Things move swiftly when they finally arrive and Cho gives out orders while I'm attended to by a paramedic.

As I had suspected, he tells me that I might have a couple of broken ribs and that I need an x-ray to make sure. They take me off to hospital and I spend the next couple of hours being prodded and poked. It's not really how I'd envisaged spending this evening I have to admit. Finally I'm told that nothing is broken, merely badly bruised. Oh, and I have a mild muscle strain in my shoulder.

I just need to use ice packs on the painful area's, take painkiller's if need be and I'm not to do anything physically strenuous in case I make it worse…for the next four weeks at least.

Why me?

If I believed in God, I'd think that he must hate me right about now.

They leave me all in peace to dress again and while my trousers are really not a problem, when it comes to my shirt with my shoulder starting to feel as though it's seizing up, I really find it a struggle.

"Here, let me help you," comes a welcome voice from the doorway and I look up in surprise.

"I could have been naked in here, Lisbon," I quip with a grin.

"I took my chances," she replies with an unconcerned shrug as she steps into the room.

She sees my chest and a pained expression crosses her features as she stops and gazes back at me in dismay. The bruising is already starting to come out and having looked in a mirror, I know it's not a pretty sight.

"It looks worse than it is," I fib. I think a lie in these circumstances is perfectly acceptable. She feels bad enough as it is. "But you're welcome to kiss it better if you don't believe me."

My invitation is deliberately reminiscent of the time I did just that to her poor cheek and it brings forth the smile I was hoping to see.

She walks over and for a moment I think she might just take me up on my offer but she takes my shirt from my hands instead. Very gently, she slides a sleeve up one of my arms then reaches around me to take hold of the other side of the fabric. The movement brings her flush against me, her face close to mine as she pulls the other sleeve up so all that's left to do is button my shirt. She clutches the ends in her hands but instead of fastening them together, she uses them to tug gently, pulling me down for a kiss.

I never need asking twice when it comes to that and only rue the fact that I can't press her more firmly against me. Even this is making everything hurt. I draw back reluctantly then she bends her head and sets about doing my shirt up.

"You scared the crap out of me tonight," she says, her voice sounding as shaky as her fingers suddenly feel. "He could have killed you, you know? You were lucky tonight but what happens if one day I don't get to you in time? Huh? How do you think that'd make me feel?"

"I don't know, you've never told me," I retort then regret it immediately when her eyes rise to mine and I can see them brimming with unshed tears. "I'm…"

"No, don't apologise," she says, turning away from me and running a hand through her hair before turning back. "You're right. I've never told you and that's just one of the things I can't stop thinking about…when I'm not seeing Finlay holding a damn gun to your head. What if I'd lost my chance to tell how I really feel?"

I let out a careful sigh and shake my head.

"You didn't. You haven't, Teresa. I'm still here and when you're ready to tell me I'll be more than willing to hear it…but not now. Not after a night like this when you're panicking because someone got a little too close for comfort. I want you say it when there's not a chance that you'll regret it the next morning. OK?"

She blinks a couple of times then gives a cursory sniff before nodding her head in acquiescence.

"OK. You're right."

"Of course I am," I reply with a smile. "Now, could you help me put my vest and jacket on? I'd like to get out of this place."

She does as I ask and we go out to her car then get in. She sets off and it takes me a little while to realise we're heading for her apartment. We pull up outside and I turn to her with a regretful smile.

"As much as I'd like to finish what we started earlier, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a rain check," I tell her glibly.

She gives me a derisive look and shakes her head.

"Just shut up and get out," she orders without any real authority. "I'm not having you sleeping on that couch or in some uncomfortable bed in a crappy motel room tonight. You can stay here and get some proper rest."

I should decline but quite honestly I'm just too tired and in too much pain to argue right now so I simply do as she tells me and silently get out of the car. Once we're in her apartment, she tells me to go upstairs and get into bed.

How I wish she'd said that to me under different circumstances.

"I'll bring you up an ice pack and some painkillers," she adds as I slowly ascend.

I swear she can read my mind.

I manage to get my jacket off then gingerly lie down on top of the covers and feel myself begin to relax. She comes in a few moments later and I dutifully take the medication and apply the ice for a few minutes. She sits on the edge of the bed and waits until I'm done then takes the ice from me and runs her fingers through my hair as I close my eyes. It's nice and I quickly find myself succumbing to sleep.

"Night, Teresa," I murmur drowsily. "Love you." I hadn't realised I was quite so exhausted.

"Goodnight, Patrick," she whispers back. "Love you, too."

What the…? That wakes me up.

I force open my eyes and see her staring down at with a small smile.

"I'm still awake," I tell her needlessly, just in case she thought I'd fallen asleep before she'd told me.

"I know," she acknowledges, her smile widening. "Your eyes are open and everything."

Her hand is still gently stroking through my hair and I reach up to still her motion despite my protesting shoulder.

"Are you sure you're not going to regret in the morning?" I have to ask.

She looks down pointedly at her watch then back at me and says, "Well, since it's past midnight, I guess it is the next morning and you know what, Patrick?"

"What?" I prompt unable to contain my own smile now.

"I don't regret a thing," she says softly.

Happiness fills my entire being, dulling the pain as she leans down and gives me the sweetest kiss I think I've ever had. I want it to continue but frustratingly my injuries prevent it and I have to break contact far too soon.

"Stay with me," I request as she goes to move away. She pauses as if contemplating whether she should and I say jokingly, "I won't try anything, I swear."

A flash of guilt flares briefly in her eyes then she grins mischievously.

"I might though," she counters saucily and my breath hitches for a reason completely unrelated to my bruised ribs.

"No fair, Lisbon," I grumble half-heartedly then notice that she's got up and is walking to the door. "Aren't you staying?" I ask plaintively.

"I just want to put the ice pack away then I'll be right back," she tells me before she leaves.

I listen contentedly to the sounds of her moving about downstairs and enjoy the whole feeling of domesticity it lends. This might not be the way that I'd envisaged ending up in Lisbon's bed but having her finally admit her feelings for me…well, I think that more than makes up for it.

In truth, I wouldn't have it any other way.

END CHAPTER 11

#mentalist ff #mentalist fanfiction #jisbon fanfiction #jisbon ff

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impracticaldemon · 7 years

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@clerfait -- Chapter 2, because this one is even more out of hand than usual.

CC: @graylu-angstweek

~ 4050 words (Total so far: 8000)

I swear that Chapter 3, tomorrow, will be the final chapter!

Thank you to all readers--I’ve tried to make this story enjoyable for all Fairy Tail fans, with a special emphasis on Juvia’s strengths and Natsu’s friendship even in a story relating to Graylu. Likes and (especially) reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Note: The Fanfiction version has the original formatting, and is the one that will be edited if I notice errors. Tumblr often “mislays” (read ‘gets rid of’) my italics and I often miss a few. However, the tumblr version is below for quick reading! :)

Author's Note:

Also under the heading of "another one that got out of hand".

If you enjoy the story and have a moment, please don't hesitate to add a quick review/note at the bottom, or send me an ask with comments, or like and reblog! All feedback is greatly appreciated :)

~Impracticaldemon (same username on fanfiction.net)

Chapter 2—A Long Wait Until Winter

[I]

Summer had arrived in a blaze of scorching sun that year. Magnolia and its citizens had baked under the blazing light, the streets shimmering with reflected heat. To Natsu's disappointment, both Lucy and Erza had declared that it was time for a vacation. Undaunted by their lack of enthusiasm, Natsu had thrown himself into a series of smaller jobs, heading out of town for one and two day trips with Happy on a regular basis. Not surprisingly, the heat hadn't bothered Natsu in the slightest.

Lucy had decided that she would make a real effort to work on her writing during her break from taking on missions, and Erza had been encouraging—as long as Lucy was also willing to spend a couple of weeks down at the seaside with her.

"You can write just as well at the beach as here," Erza had told Lucy firmly. Not that Erza often spoke any other way. "And you might as well get out of Magnolia for a while. July is supposed to be especially bad this year."

There had been an unacknowledged battle of wills over the beach trip. Lucy couldn't deny that she wanted to get out of her rather stuffy apartment during the worst of the heat, but… Erza hadn't raised the real reason Lucy didn't want to go out of town for any length of time; Juvia and Natsu had not been so reticent.

Juvia had been the first. She had arrived at Lucy's apartment in the relative cool of the late evening part-way through June. With the sun down, and all the windows open, Lucy's home hadn't been too bad. Lucy had just sat down to try writing again—the day hadn't gone well—and she was frustrated when she heard the knock on her door. On the other hand, she hadn't been entirely sorry to put off her non-productive task for a while longer—at least, not until Juvia had explained the reason for her visit.

"Erza-san told Juvia that Lucy-san won't go to the beach this year. Juvia thinks that Lucy-san is afraid to leave the city in case Gray-sama returns."

Juvia had looked inquiringly at her blond friend, and Lucy had felt a blush rise to her cheeks. It had seemed like such a strange role reversal, with Juvia being calm and slightly knowing, and Lucy feeling unsettled about Gray's continued absence. There had been an important difference, however: Lucy still didn't know exactly how she felt about Gray; in fact, as the days had continued to pass she had begun to wonder if she had dreamed that parting kiss.

"It's not quite the way you make it sound," Lucy had finally responded. "It's not like I even know where we—where Gray and I—stand at this point."

"Does Lucy-san like Gray-sama?"

"Well of course—" Lucy had begun to answer, once again on the defensive.

"As something more than friends? No, wait, Juvia will change the question: does Lucy like Gray-sama as something different than friends?"

"I still like Gray as a friend!"

"And something else?"

"I don't know!" Lucy's voice had risen, and Juvia's smug look had made her want to kick something. Again.

Hadn't she felt the same way last time? Juvia could really manage to keep the pressure on while doing no more than sitting and sipping her drink. She had been looking extremely pretty that day, although unusually casually dressed. For Juvia, that had meant perfectly tailored navy blue shorts and a crisp, white, sailor-style blouse. Since it was Juvia, a matching white and blue sailor's cap had been perched at a jaunty angle on top of her vivid blue hair.

"Lucy-san is not paying attention!" Juvia had said at that point, with understandable (if unusual) irritation.

"Well, well, um, your outfit is very unusual and it looks so nice—I was wondering if you were going somewhere special today." Lucy had felt her blush deepen. It had been perfectly obvious to both of them that Lucy was avoiding the subject.

"Lyon-sama and Juvia are going on a cruise," Juvia had confided, blue eyes sparkling.

"Today?" It was nine o'clock in the evening.

"Oh no! After the wedding, of course."

Lucy had blinked at her friend. "And the sailor suit?"

Juvia had leaned forward, her usually pale cheeks more than a little pink.

"Lyon-sama saw some of the clothes that Juvia had bought for the cruise and wanted her to show him how they looked. Lyon-sama liked this outfit very much, and said that Juvia should start wearing it right away, so that he would not have to wait until the fall to see it again."

Juvia's happiness had been palpable, and suddenly Lucy had felt sad. Somehow, it wasn't quite the same showing her clothes to Plue and Erza, and Natsu rarely noticed what she wore.

"That sounds very nice," Lucy had replied, sighing. "I mean… it really does sound as though you and Lyon are a good fit."

"Oh yes. But Juvia does not forget that she spent a long time wanting Gray-sama to fall in love with her instead. Juvia tries to remind Lyon-sama often that she is happy with the choice she made."

Lucy had shifted uncomfortably. She had found more and more that remembering Juvia's strong devotion to Gray, and the way that Gray had seemed to be falling for Juvia, made her… jealous? It had been absurd, because it wasn't as if she had clear feelings about Gray to be jealous about.

She had walked with Juvia out of the building and into the clear, warm, moonlit night. As a light breeze had danced across her bare arms, she had felt a sudden need to head for more open spaces where she could look up at the stars. Juvia had told her to be careful, but hadn't said anything more about Gray or Erza's proposed trip to the beach.

It had taken some time to get to her favourite place to stargaze, since she had to be far enough away from the town for the light pollution to be significantly reduced. As she had approached "her" spot, she'd sensed that she wasn't alone, and pulled a key from the pouch on her belt. A moment later, she'd recognized Natsu, and the slight adrenaline rush of wariness (and totally unacknowledged hope) had drained away.

"Natsu! Why didn't you tell me you were there?!" She'd been a little annoyed, because Natsu would have smelled her long before she'd seen his shape and finally realized who it was.

"Huh?" Natsu had seemed genuinely taken aback. "But you must have known it was me, Luce, right?"

"How?" Lucy demanded, sitting down beside him and giving him a light shove on the shoulder.

Natsu had thought about it for a moment and then dismissed the entire point.

"So how's it going Lucy? You've been kinda down. Maybe you should come out on a coupl' of jobs with me and Happy after all."

Lucy had given him a jaded look.

"Are you asking how I'm doing or trying to talk me into taking on a mission?"

"What?! No! I'm just worried about you is all? Geez you're suspicious!"

He'd pouted, but not for very long. Looking around, Lucy was surprised not to see Happy. Natsu must have read her gestures and expression—he was good at that.

"Happy's… well, I guess he's on a date?"

"With Charla? You're kidding!"

"Nope. I guess persistence does pay off, huh?"

"Yeah."

They'd sat in silence for a while, gazing up at the stars. Natsu could now identify quite a few of the constellations, but for the most part, when they'd done this in the past, he'd been quite content to stare upwards without chatting. It had suddenly dawned on Lucy that Gray had stopped coming on these impromptu stargazing trips a long time ago. She'd been disappointed but had never wanted to insist. Looking back, she'd wondered if maybe he had thought there was something between her and Natsu. Or maybe… maybe he'd mostly known that there wasn't, but hadn't wanted to intrude just in case? That had still seemed off, so Lucy had given up trying to understand.

Later that same night, lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, another possibility had dawned on Lucy. What if Gray hadn't wanted to go star-gazing because, as Juvia had said, he wasn't brave enough? It was a romantic enough setting; maybe he'd worried that he'd give himself away or even—could it be?—found it too difficult not to get jealous of Natsu. Natsu tended to be a physical guy with his close friends. With Gray it had always come out in fights, fist bumps, and the occasional arm around the shoulder. Lucy tended to complain about Natsu's more violent greetings, and for the most part he limited himself to holding her hand (often while trying to get her to run faster), and quick hugs.

She had fallen asleep with difficulty that night, wondering where Gray was and what he was doing. They had fought together and almost died together so many times. Gray had even developed some kind of friendship with the chief of her celestial spirits, Loke. Somewhere in there, according to Juvia, Gray had started to care about her as something other than "just" a friend. Why hadn't Lucy noticed?

[II]

Mid-summer had been as hot as predicted. Lucy had finally given in to Erza's desire to go to the seaside. It had been a good idea, as the days were considerably more bearable and it was far easier to sleep at night.

Even more men than usual had tried to hit on Lucy that summer, for some reason. There had been a few women, too, but they had been far more subtle, whether because they had sensed Lucy's mood better, or because Erza was a greater deterrent to them.

"Do I have some giant sign over my head that says 'single and looking for love'?" Lucy had demanded at one point, after a particularly annoying encounter.

Her scarlet-haired companion had shifted slightly on her lounge chair and sipped at her drink. Being Erza, she had taken Lucy's question seriously.

"No. But you look unhappy. Many men assume that a beautiful woman who is not obviously with a male partner must be unhappy over a man. Therefore, it is a good time to make advances. The better men do so with caution, not wanting to make things worse; the worst men do it because they sense vulnerability and seek to exploit it."

"You've been reading relationship books again, haven't you?"

"… Well, why not?" Erza had been just a little defensive. "Have you ever been in love, Lucy?"

Lucy had tried to roll her eyes and make light of it, but with Erza staring at her from just two feet away, she'd failed miserably and given in to her fate.

"I don't know. I suppose that means I haven't."

"Not necessarily. People are driven in different ways, after all. Somebody who is passionate about one aspect of their life may not be as keenly aware of a different kind of passion if it develops slowly. And our own minds play games with us, trying to protect us from caring too much if we've been hurt before."

Lucy had thought about this for a few minutes. Then she had stood up and grinned down at Erza.

"Well I still think you sound like a book on 'how to live and love better'. I'm going to get my writing things. After all, you talked me into coming here so that I could write."

Erza had waved an unusually lazy hand at her from her prone position.

"Good luck. Personally, I think it's too hot for serious endeavour."

As Lucy had walked away, still thinking about Erza's words despite herself, she'd heard her friend mutter: "And it was a good book."

Lucy had taken her notebook and pens to a secluded, shady spot away from the beach crowds. She'd started by writing short sketches about the people she'd observed over the past few days: the harassed but loving mother; the sick but kindly older gentleman; the man selling ice cream who had looked a little like Gray. She had dutifully included the last one so that Juvia—the mental Juvia in her head—couldn't accuse her of lacking courage. Maybe she did need to stop avoiding the issue.

A large drop of sweat had rolled down her face and threatened to blot her page. It really was too hot to write, Lucy had thought, pushing the back of one wrist across her forehead. Too hot, too airless, too bright, even in the shade. She wanted cool, crisp air and the hint of frost. Since when? mental Juvia had asked, with a smirk that Lucy was pretty sure that the real Juvia would never use.

"Since it got so horribly hot! Leave me alone! Go hang out with mental Lyon!" Then Lucy had laughed aloud. "Gray would say that Lyon's pretty much mental all the time…"

I really do miss him. As a friend or as something different, I don't know, but I miss him.

"But only because he made ice cubes for our drinks in the summer," she had said, still aloud, laughing at her own belligerence.

"You know, talking to yourself like this is not a good sign," a pleasant baritone had said from just a few feet away.

Lucy had jumped, even though she had identified the speaker almost immediately.

"Loke! What on earth are you doing here?"

The celestial spirit could come and go more or less at will, but he usually didn't.

"I couldn't take your pining over Gray any longer. You obviously need advice from somebody who knows what they're talking about."

Loke blinked in the strong sun—he had appeared a little ways from the rock overhang that was providing Lucy's shade. An instant later, he was wearing sunglasses. Of course. Lucy rolled her eyes.

"I do NOT need advice. I've already been given lots of advice. I'm swimming in advice. Now if you could conjure up a really cold drink and maybe a fan, that would help."

"Is it punishment time, Mistress?" It had been Lucy's celestial maid-servant, the lovely and rather masochistic Virgo, popping into being beside Loke. Virgo had clasped her manacled wrists together and bowed deeply.

"What? No! What is this, anyway?"

"We merely want to help you," Loke had murmured, at his most charming. "Milady would like a cold drink and a fan, Virgo."

Helpless, and torn between slight annoyance and greater amusement, Lucy had allowed Loke to fuss over her. To a point.

"I think you should give Gray a chance," he'd said, once Lucy was sitting on a soft cotton blanket with a cold drink in her hand and a bowl of cool, green grapes beside her to snack on. He was fanning her in a leisurely fashion with a large paper fan painted with—

"You painted Gray's face ON THE FAN?!"

"What, me? Not at all."

"But—"

"I didn't paint it; that was Aries. She quite likes Gray, you know. So do I, which would be convenient, since otherwise I might be tempted to interfere at inopportune moments." Loke had given her a slightly too-toothy smile and for a moment the sunlight had reflected strangely off his opaque lenses.

"Gah! Stop being so pushy! Besides…" Lucy had leaned forward, eager to make this one point very clearly. "You may not have noticed, but Gray isn't here. He left Magnolia seven months ago. I don't know why everyone thinks this has anything to do with me. GRAY ISN'T HERE!"

She'd stopped as soon as she'd realized that she was shouting. Then she'd blinked away sudden tears.

"Gray isn't here," she'd whispered. "And I feel like a part of my life is on hold."

Abruptly serious, Loke had leaned forward, keeping his actions slow and non-threatening. He'd lifted a hand and wiped away a tear that had escaped despite Lucy's best efforts. Then he'd kissed her gently on the forehead. Somehow, the sunglasses had vanished.

"That's exactly it, dear Lucy. And it's a very hard place to be, not knowing how somebody else feels, and being unable to ask. A person can talk themselves into many things and then discover at the last moment—if not too late—that they were just very good at self-delusion all along."

Lucy scowled at Loke, but without any real anger.

"I told you: I'm swimming in advice. I'm not an idiot—" she had swatted at Loke when he had pretended to look surprised— "and I think I know what you're saying. You're saying that Gray's been kind of confused about all this himself for a while, and it's no fun to feel this way, so don't go too hard on him when—if!—he comes back."

Loke had risen gracefully and bowed slightly. The tinted glasses were back.

"On the bright side, Lucy, if he does come back and if he does hurt you somehow, there will be quite a line-up of people out for his blood. I will have the advantage of being able to spy on you the most easily, of course, so I would get there first, but the Fire Eater and Titania wouldn't be far behind. You have a gift for making friends, and we want the best for you. We might be willing to settle for Gray."

Lucy had been torn between laughter, irritation, and tears.

"And I thought my dad was bad about trying to set me up with the right guy…" she'd said.

Loke had frowned at her.

"Fortunately, we actually care about what you want," he'd told her, in tone laced with anger. He wasn't Lucy's father's biggest fan. A moment later, he'd reverted to himself. "Well, that's that, then. Stop being so mopey, get on with your writing, and when Gray comes back—which he will, Flame-brain's right—then either he'll do the right thing and talk to you about how he feels, or we'll pound him. Good?"

"No!' But Lucy had been laughing, and that had felt good.

[III]

Lucy had managed to keep her emotions on a more even keel throughout the rest of the summer, and although she had dreamed rather often of winter and the scent of frost, she had tried to put it down to the awful heat—who wouldn't long for cooler temperatures? There were two or three dreams that had been more difficult to set aside, and those had forced her to recognize that Gray's kiss—her first—had made her personally aware of a form of intimacy that she had only read about in the romance novels that she, Levy, Juvia and Erza all shared and had solemnly sworn never to show another soul. Of course, Mirajane knew because she supplied them, but that was different.

The first two months of autumn had passed very quickly, thanks to Juvia and Lyon's wedding being set for November first. The cooling air also meant that it had been time to get out on more missions again with Natsu and Erza. Wendy had come with them from time to time, and on one notable occasion Juvia and Lyon had both joined them, even though it was rare for members of other guilds to be involved in guild jobs. Lucy had rapidly decided that the extra firepower hadn't really been worth it, because Gray and Natsu were a team despite their frequent brangling, while Lyon and Natsu were a continuous dominance match without the deep, longstanding friendship to take the edge off. Even Erza had contributed to the feeling of "too many leaders", because while Natsu and Gray generally deferred to her in tactical situations, Lyon didn't and Erza had tried to be polite because she hadn't wanted to offend Juvia. By the end of the job, Lucy's mantra had been never again.

Juvia had justified Lucy's faith in her by remaining constant in her affection for her Fairy Tail friends, although naturally she was around a lot less often. Lucy had also been more favourably impressed with Lyon than she had expected (the disastrous mission notwithstanding). There was no denying that he was completely devoted to Juvia, although he could still be rather harsh and emotionally distant with others. It was evident that he was making an effort to do better, however, at least with those that Juvia cared about.

As November approached, Lucy had begun to feel more and more anxious, and it hadn't helped that everyone close to her (including her celestial spirits) had made it clear that they were keenly interested as well. The question on Lucy's mind, of course, was simple: would Gray show up for the wedding? By any standard of friendship, guild loyalty and even a sort of kinship (in Lyon's case), he should be there. Only his absence had kept him from being in the wedding party, and Lucy had heard from somebody—though not directly—that Lyon was upset that Gray had not been in touch with him. Although the two of them had been rivals in so many ways, they were also foster brothers of a sort, and had a shared history and background in magic that was unique to the two of them.

Eventually, Lucy had gone to Juvia in desperation, and asked if she or Lyon had heard anything from Gray. Juvia had looked a little distressed, but eventually she had made up her mind and told Lucy that Lyon had received a note just the day before—within a week of the wedding itself—saying that Gray would be there, although he didn't want anybody else to know.

"I need to see him," Lucy had told Juvia bluntly.

Juvia had frowned. "If Lucy-san looks for Gray-sama and speaks to him then he will know that Lyon-sama or Juvia did not keep his secret."

Lucy had looked straight into Juvia's large blue eyes and told her:

"I don't care if I make a fool of myself or upset my friends… I need to talk to Gray."

Juvia closed her eyes, but then nodded firmly and opened them again.

"Juvia will help Lucy-san. Juvia thinks that Gray-sama will only be there for the wedding ceremony, not for the dancing afterward. Juvia will make sure that Lucy-san gets to see Gray-sama, in private, before he can leave."

Lucy had exhaled in relief. Then she'd hugged the other woman, a little overwhelmed by the kindness that she was being shown. It was Juvia's big day, and Juvia was going to devote some part of her attention to helping Lucy speak to Juvia's former crush. What friend could ask for more?

"Thank you, Juvia. Thank you."

Juvia had been pink and flustered but obviously pleased.

"Juvia hopes that in the end, all of Juvia's friends will be happy and even Juvia."

The way she had expressed herself had made tender-hearted Lucy give her another quick hug. Then she turned to business, and the rest of the visit had been spent making plans.

[END]

A/Note: I hope you enjoyed chapter 2! The third-and FINAL, I promise!-chapter will be up by tomorrow sometime. :)

#fairy tail #fanfiction #gray fullbuster #lucy heartfilia #juvia lockser #graylu #loke #erza scarlet

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diangelost-blog1 · 7 years

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New Year's Kiss || Jaspar Fanfiction

Summary: + Joe has had the same guy give him his New Year’s Kiss 3 consecutive years, even if he doesn’t remember the guy’s name.

- Caspar actively looks for Joe at the annual New Year’s party to kiss at midnight, even if he runs away right after.

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I: +Are you alright?+

A/N: this is the first ever fanfic I post here, figured I’d do so since I enjoy reading a lot of them in Tumblr (mainly from @alraune315, think we can all say she breaks our hearts with every update).

Got this idea right after my New year’s kiss, so I just had to write it (so is the life of a fanboy). Inspired by me being in a similar, less fanfic-ish, situation.

Hope you like it :)

Word count: 5113

••••••••••••••••••••••••

Joe usually loved parties, he had plenty of fun when he went out with his friends, energetic and reckless, to dick around. Whether it was the drinking, the ambiance, the dancing, or just the fact that they got up to the dumbest things the brunette could imagine, Joe definitely looked forward to night outs.

This, however, was different. It was a school party, regulated by teachers so that kids, as adventurous as Joe and his friends, wouldn’t act recklessly. Even if spiked punch was always a given, what was the point of drinking if he was gonna be doing it alone? There was no one he knew to do so with at the event: his mates had stopped attending the yearly party, and his sister didn’t drink.

You see, while he was invited every year, Joe wasn’t a student there. He was actually homeschooled along with his sister, but being the kids of the school counselor got them free entrances every year. It used to be fun when he was younger, back when talking to people was easier; he had even met the boys at one of these all those years back. But now he was the awkward 16 year old that didn’t know how to start a conversation and stuck to his sister like glue when he got the chance to do so.

This wasn’t one of those moments. Walking aimlessly through the room, neatly decorated by his sister and other volunteers, Joe tried to look for a vacant seat that was far enough from the bigger crowds. He had been together with Zoe since he arrived to the venue at 8pm, but it wasn’t long until the short conversations she held with others started to grow in length with the arrival of a blonde girl with pink strands, probably a senior.

He had initially tried to stick around both girls, even attempting to contribute in their conversation, but the amount of energy the duo carried became to much for the brunette. It was weird how tiring it was for him to socialize with just about anyone, yet it was as if he never had enough time to spend with the boys.

It was a nasty habit he’d need to get rid off, it wasn’t long until he’d need to either go to university or look for a proper job; he would no longer be able to avoid socialization due to his shyness. New year’s resolution, anyone? It was his goal every year, to be more open and out there, and he did achieve it; even if some years the change was slight.

Joe sighed in frustration as he got closer to some bean bags he had spotted from afar. While they were empty on his way to them, he was lucky enough for a group of boys to take a seat on the largest one located in the middle of the others. Very loud, energetic boys. The brunette stopped at an unsuspicious distance from the seats, considering whether he’d try his luck finding some other reclusive place, or just deal with the small group of 14 year olds.

He looked around, scanning the area for any other safe spots, but eventually deemed this particular one as the most comfortable for him. The small group reminded him a little of him and his mates at the party years ago, laughing loudly at the weird jokes a wavy brunette told. He tried to gain confidence with every step he took towards them, maybe he could try making friends?

It was 6 of them sitting there, a slightly larger crowd than he was usually comfortable with, but they seemed friendly enough. Joe sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to walk slightly faster, to cut away the time he could have to change his mind; he saw one of the boys, a thin redhead, noticed him making his way over and elbow the box dye blonde.

The group went silent before he arrived, one by one focusing on Joe as well and, oh god he hoped he wasn’t walking funny; one of his many nervous habits. It suddenly became too much for him, but it was too late to pretend he wasn’t heading in their direction without it looking weird. So he tried to be as normal as possible and sat on the closest single bean bag to them, Joe took out his phone and pretended to type, hoping the boys would think he was waiting for someone.

The brunette started to bite his knuckle slightly, crumbling under the pressure of their stares. Why wouldn’t they look away? Joe got an overwhelming feeling of not wanting to be there, but he’d get in trouble with his dad if he left before the countdown, and there was still a bit over 2 hours until that happened. He breathed out in relief when the group lost interest in him and instead dived back in to their previous jokes.

They probably hadn’t even stared at him for a minute, but to Joe it had felt like an agonizing long time filled with judgement. His legs were slightly shaking from the anxiousness he had felt, but he could blame it on the cold if anyone where to notice. He nervously looked up from his phone, hands trembling as well, and looked at the group next to him, as if to make sure they were indeed laughing at jokes and not at him. But what he saw made him quickly dip back into his phone, curling slightly more into himself as to hide the red cheeks he had gotten from the embarrassment of being caught starting.

One of the guys hadn’t joined back into conversation. No, he had still been looking at Joe’s direction, frown on his face. He was blonde, and his blue eyes were filled with confusion, as if he was deep in thought; had he possibly noticed Joe shaking and trembling? That looked had disappeared quickly though, as he noticed the brunette looking at him. Instead he had smiled at the him, a warm and reassuring smile that probably lasted a bit more than it should’ve. Or maybe that was just Joe overanalyzing everything, he was known for doing so.

The next 10 minutes were filled with an overly shy Joe giving quick glances at the group next to him, to convince himself that nothing weird had happened, that the blonde wasn’t telling his buddies what the weird brunette had done. And many of those glanced had been met by blue eyes that had caught him staring again and again, but thide eyes never judged, they were amused. And along with the eyes came the same warm smile, small and a bit shy, directed at him. The only thing he did in response was to stare back blankly for a few seconds, before pretending to go back to his phone.

The repetitive actions would’ve probably lasted longer if Joe had been left to it, but the blonde’s glances away from the group eventually caught one of his buddies attention. Joe watched the two hold a brief conversation, probably private as they had dropped their voices to whispers, before their eyes were suddenly on him. He was about to pretend he was on his phone, like he had been doing so far, until he noticed the blonde leaning in his direction.

There was no telling whether he was about to stand up and walk towards Joe, or whether he was simply readjusting his position on the bean bag; but it was enough for Joe to panic. He fingers darted towards the 2 on his keyboard, and he left them pressed there until a call started. Zoe was saved on that key, and she always picked up quickly.

Joe tried to stand up as casually as possible, phone now pressed against his ear. He bit his lip before taking brief steps near his previous seat, pretending to pace around. As the familiar click of his call being answered resonated, he glanced back towards the larger seat.

The blonde boy had indeed stood up, and he was now staring at Joe with an amused expression, eyes following his every move. He gulped nervously and shifted his eyes away from him far enough for him to still be visible out of the corner of Joe’s eyes. He was way taller than Joe had expected, probably an inch or two taller than him.

“Hello?” Came the familiar and reassuring voice of his sister. He immediately felt himself calm down, and completely forgot the nerve racking situation he had just been in.

“Where are you?” He half yelled, hoping it was loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Where did you go?” Zoe questioned back instead of giving an answer. She didn’t sound pissed, but rather slightly update. Joe plugged his free ear with his left hand as to block out the party’s noise as he finally walked away from the quieter corner and into the noisier crowd.

“I left you girls for a bit, but you weren’t there when I came back. I’ve been looking all over.” He lied on the phone, not wanting to hurt his sister by saying he needed a break from her and her friend.

“We’re sitting outside, there’s a garden area we decorated that not many know about…it’s calmer out here” she commented. And that was all Joe needed to hear before asking for directions and heading to the place his sister was at.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It had taken him a while, he had gotten lost a few times by taking wrong turns, but he made it to the little “secret garden”, as both girls appeared to be calling it. The place was amazing, it managed to successfully combine a calm and relaxed aura with that of a party; there was still music, a small DJ booth, and some tables with food and beverages. Not to mention many many places to seat at, ranging from regular chairs to garden swings. There was even a hammock that had just called for Joe to place his butt in.

That was exactly the same place he was still at, two glasses of spiked punch and an hour long nap later. He had gotten surprisingly well with Zoe’s friends: the same girl from before who he now knew was called Louise, and a very thin and tall boy named Mark that had joined the other two in the garden before his arrival.

The small group had started a game of never have I ever, shaping the rules to fit their current situation. They had a cup filled with punch each, except for Zoe who’s cup was filled with water instead, and whenever they had done something they’d have to take a sip of their cup. Whoever emptied their cup first would have to go and get as many snacks as they could for the group, a situation neither of the four particularly wanted to be in.

“I swear I’ve had to drink every time! I don’t want to be the one to walk around with all that food” Joe whined after taking yet another sip of his cup. If it wasn’t for the fact that he just met two out of the three people he was playing with, he’d say he was being targeted.

“I got your back lil bro” said Zoe between laughs after the other two had ceased doing so. “Never have I ever had a new year’s kiss”

Groaning in complaint, their two friends drank from their cups. The Suggs laughed in celebration and high fived each other, having too much fun to pay attention to the sound of the door being opened and new people joining the small garden crowd.

A couple of rounds later, however, Joe found himself with an empty cup in his hands. His friends staring at him in anticipation.

“Oh dammit!” He complained, throwing his cup to roll inside their circle in the floor. “Louise cheated! Her sips were way smaller than ours!”

“Uh-huh, don’t drag me into this Joe, you lost fair and square” the older blonde laughed

“I mean, even if she did” Mark glanced at Louis with a laugh “you still drank a couple times more than her didn’t cha?”

Throwing a few more jokey complaint at the group, Joe wrote down what each of them wanted and made his way to the snack tables. It was definitely less than he had made himself but to be, but he still had to figure out a way to carry it all without embarrassing himself. Maybe he’d have to take two trips to do so. He’d start by drinking some punch first though, they never said he couldn’t take his time.

Once he stood in front of the many punch bowls, his eyes scanned the tables for his friends’ requests. He had gone to the ice cream bar before hand and it had been empty, so he wanted to check whether there was something else he’d need to ask to be restocked.

Deep in thought, he was startled by the noise of someone clearing their throat behind him. Joe jumped slightly, jerking his hand from the bowl, ladle and all, and accidentally threw punch over his White button down shirt.

“Shit” he muttered under his breath, trying to wipe the deep purple color away.

As soon as the accident happened, Joe still in shock, the person behind him placed a hand on his shoulder and spun him around.

“Oh dude sorry, that’s gonna leave a stain” a familiar looking guy with brown hair and brown eyes said in concern, eyeing Joe’s shirt. “You should probably dab it with a cloth or something…I’ll go look for one, wait here”

Joe was surprised at how nice the guy had been, he was half expecting him to beat Joe up after he splashed punch everywhere; the small stains on the other guy’s shirt hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. He still started to panic tough, even if he was trying not to, his shirt was brand new and his mum would be so mad when he got home.

“Are you alright?” Another voice asked.

Only then did Joe notice there had been someone else with the guy, and that’s when the familiarity clicked. It was the blonde guy from the couch, and the other guy had been the friend he had been talking with before Joe left. He tried to compose himself, gulping down the previous panic, and forced a smile at the blonde boy.

“I’m fine” I’m not

“But…your shirt..” the younger boy added in concern.

“Just a little stain, no big deal” it is a big deal, mum’s gonna be pissed, and she’ll give me extra homework, and Zoe will give me a sermon about being responsible, and dad will probably try to have another talk about my anxi-

“I have a sweater I’m not wearing if..” the boy started, reaching to the backpack hanging from his shoulder “if you wanna cover it. Packed it in case I got cold but” he stared at Joe with a small smile, sweater now In his hands"I’ve been feeling quite warm since earlier for some reason"

“Didn’t your friend say something about dabbing it?” Joe muttered, too shy to speak louder, while breaking eye contact with the younger boy.

“Oli?” The blonde laughed “he’s probably gonna take care of his own shirt first, might take a while. Besides, that’s not gonna do anything other than fade the stain a little. My sweater, on the other hand…” he trailed off, shaking the sweater from side to side in front of Joe.

“If you don’t mind” he muttered, taking the warm clothes from the taller boy and examining it briefly.

“Oh, I haven’t given you my name have I? I’m-” The blonde said sheepishly while Joe pulled the sweater over his head. When he looked back at the blonde, he had his arm stretched towards him, as if expecting him to introduced himself back.

His blood ran cold when he realized he hadn’t heard the boy’s name, but he was too embarrassed to ask him to say it again. So he did what anyone would is in a situation like this and forced his best smile while shaking the other’s hand.

“Joe” he introduced himself. The sweater was too big on him, going over his hands, making it one of the most awkward handshakes he had ever given. He felt self-conscious of his height at that moment, the boy was obviously younger than him but his clothes were way bigger. Not only his height, the sweater was big on him in every aspect, so Joe wrapped his arms around himself to cover his body from view.

The two boys stood in awkward silence for a little while, the only reason Joe hadn’t left was because he didn’t want to appear as a jerk to the two lads that had helped him. As soon as the dark brunette came back Joe would excuse himself and go back to his group, not before thanking them and getting the snacks he had promised, obviously.

He tried not to stare too much at the other boy, as he had nothing to talk about, and busied himself pouring another cup of punch and sipping on it. He glanced at the blonde every now and again, only for the other to smile at Joe every time.

Joe was relieved when the dark brunette, Oli, came back with a wet cloth. He raised part of the sweater and started cleaning the stained fabric quickly, frantically thanking the two friendly boys that had decided to aid him.

“I’m sorry about your shirt by the way” he said a bit louder than earlier, much more at ease with Oli’s friendly and bubbly personality.

“Nah don’t worry about it mate, didn’t even like it anyways. Mum forced me to wear it, y'know?” Oli commented lightly while looking at the blonde boy, who immediately laughed at the boy’s comment.

It was probably an inside joke, and he felt left out, his awkwardness slowly creeping back. Joe looked around and faked a laugh; he didn’t know, he had always been allowed to wear whatever he wanted to.

“Don’t mean to appear rude” Oli said directly at Joe “but my friends are waiting for me inside, it was nice meeting you” Joe waved back at him, giving him the friendliest smile he could muster. Oli smiled back and turned to face the taller of the three “let’s go”

“Uh, actually..” the blonde rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly “I was planning on staying here a bit longer.. keep Joe company”

No no no no. Oli had given him a clear pass to freedom, maybe realizing he was looking for a way to leave the conversation, but the blonde had completely ripped it to shreds. There was no way he could tell the blonde he’d prefer he left, Joe had never been a straight forward person, and the thought of being rude to a complete stranger sent cold sweat down his spine.

Oli left soon afterwards, jokingly commenting about the blonde ditching them. The pressure felt strong, so naturally Joe busied himself sipping his cup. He didn’t need to say anything, the blonde appeared to be carrying out the conversation on his own, even if Joe wasn’t 100% sure what the boy was saying.

Until a recently made familiar boy resonated close by. Joe’s face shot towards the source of the voice, seeing Mark making his way through some people while calling out Joe’s name. Jackpot.

“Mark” he shouted out, raising his arm to be spotted by the lankier lad. He felt a tad guilty, he had cut off the blonde in what appeared to be the middle of a story; the same boy was now silently watching the scene unfold.

“Oh my god, why’ve you taken so long? I was starting to grow worried” Mark said, pretending to catch his breath as soon as he reached the pair. He eyed the blonde for a bit, before looking back and forth between the two.

“Sorry, got caught up with uhh something” Joe said shifting uncomfortably

“So I see…I just came here to tell you to forget about the snacks, we’re eating pizza at Zoe’s afterwards, and to being you back” he started, making Joe leave out a breath of relief “but don’t worry about that, I’ll leave you with your friend and explain it to the girls. Just come back in 40 minutes, right after the countdown, we leave then”

And with that Mark went back the same way he had come, leaving Joe and the tall blonde alone once again. Well, he was about to spend some very awkward moments until he left.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

It had been the punch. Of course all he needed was punch. Joe was getting a lot better with the other boy, two more cups of punch successfully unlocking his real social skills. The other guy hadn’t had a single cup, even when Joe had offered to get him one, he probably didn’t like drinking like his sister.

The duo had long ditched the food table, walking from the Little “secret garden” to the venue’s actual garden to see the small firework show the school put up every year. The walk was filled with laughter and slight rough housing for the pair, Joe was really enjoying sending time with this guy; he’d probably ask to meet his other friends seeing how friendly and funny the two he had met had been.

They were now sitting together, alone, under a tree in one garden swing they had found far enough from the crowd and the music as to be able to hear each other. Joe felt a bit like a character in a movie: a shy teen that came out of his shell at a party and has crazy adventures with a complete stranger that becomes his new best friend, all while surrounded with amazing scenery.

“So I ended up spending the night at my friend Will’s house for a whole week while I waited for my mum to forget about it” Joe laughed out, tears rolling down his face from the amount of fun he was having.

The blonde boy was also crying, his laugh loud and inviting; the kind of laugh you just wanted to hear more and more, thst one laugh you were happy to be the cause of. So Joe cracked up his best jokes, he told his best stories, all in an attempt to make the other guy laugh; his laugh made him feel giddy inside.

“I don’t believe you!” The blonde croaked out between his laughter, seemingly trying to calm himself down enough to talk.

“I swear it happened! Anyone can confirm it!”

“It’s just like that one time” the taller one talked as Joe wipped his eyes, both boys still chuckling under their breaths. “I microwaved my popcorn for too long and it exploded, the house was filled with smoke and I left before my mum got mad at me; think It got blamed on my sister because everyone thought I had been out all day. I didn’t come back until I was called back at night, couldn’t risk it.”

Joe hunched forward laughing, his forehead resting on top of his new friend’s shoulder as he tried to compose himself and regain his breath. The guy had been laughing nonstop while telling the story, but Joe couldn’t feel him laughing at all now; had he made him uncomfortable? He knew he became touchy when he was typsy, but maybe they weren’t in that stage of friendship yet. After all, they had just met.

Slowly lifting his forehead away from the boy, Joe caughed nervously. He gave the other boy a tentative smile, as if to ask if it was okay, and he was glad when it was returned. Shaking his head in amusement, Joe decided he wouldn’t dwell in one awkward moment, he was having too much fun and he planned for it to continue on.

Joe stood up from the swing, and planted himself in front of his friend with a cheeky smile on his face. The other boy looked confused for a second, and was about to ask something when Joe grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of the crowd.

“Uh, where are we going?” The younger boy sounded nervous, so Joe gave him a reassuring smile.

“Figured we could dance for a bit, if it’s anything like the previous years they should be letting students pick the music by now. Could be fun”

His friend didn’t say anything in return, which Joe took as him linking the idea. So they danced around for a bit, the song playing when they arrived was Never gonna give you up. And it only got better from then. Of course, they reached the point where slow songs started being played and they decided to opt out.

Their decision hadn’t been immediate, they danced awkwardly to the rythm of the first slow song that played, trying to make it as funny and ridiculous as the previous ones had been. But once that one was over another started playing, and then another. Joe could feel eyes on them, the two idiots raving to slow songs, and blushed in embarrassment as he stopped dancing; pulling the blonde’s hand and leading him back to their previous spot.

“Guess you can’t really drop it to romantic tunes huh?” He nudged the other boy in an attempt to lighten up the mood once he saw the blonde’s face was completely flushed. Joe felt guilty, he had been the one to drag the other into such an embarrassing situation after all.

The blonde seemed dazed, out of it, as they reached the tree again. Joe bit his lip nervously as the blonde stared at him blankly, had he ruined their newfound friendship already? He quickly checked for the time on his phone, 7 minutes till midnight. Perfect timing for an excuse.

“Oi, the countdown is gonna be soon…I think I’ll go look for my friends now, spend it with them..” he trailed off as he placed his phone back into his pocket, completely avoiding the blonde’s gaze. “It was nice hanging o-”

“Wait!” The blonde was now completely out of his daze, and had gripped Joe’s hands as he was slipping away. “D-don’t you have a while after midnight before meeting up with your friends?” He asked nervously.

“Well, yeah” Joe answered in confusion, frowning slightly at the younger boy gripping his hand tightly “but won’t you spend the countdown with yours?”

“I think” the blonde started, cheeks flushed slightly “I think I’d rather spend the last moments of the year here. It’s a lot calmer” he looked around for a bit before looking back at Joe “and a lot prettier.”

Joe smiled at the younger boy and how shy he was acting. He felt sympathy towards the blonde, he was usually the one to be too embarrassed to ask for things. Though he’d have to give him props for actually gathering the courage to ask, if it had been him in that situation he would’ve probably let his friend go and mopped around for the rest of the party. Joe took a sit back in his spot at the swing, patting the empty space next to him.

“No need to be embarrassed around me, I’ll stay if you want me to”

“I’d like that” the blonde expressed eagerly with a smile, somewhat regaining the energetic demeanor Joe liked so much.

Both boys laughed quietly at their current situation, a few minutes ago they were making a tit out of themselves in front of pretty much everyone, and now they were having quiet conversations while waiting for midnight to come. They shared a brief comfortable silence before hearing people shouting the countdown in the distance.

“You ready for the fireworks?” Joe asked the boy quietly, leaning slightly to nudge him with his shoulder and giving him a warm smile.

Next to him, he could feel the boy shift around. And before Joee knew it, two hands were firmly gripping his shoulders and turning him to face the other boy. The blonde’s face was once again flushed, this time the redness was also covering the tip of his nose and what was visible of his ears.

Joe didn’t get a chance to voice his confusion as the the younger boy started leaning in. Before it downed on him what was about to happen, a pair of lips were flushed firmly against his. He was surprised, it wasn’t as if he could say he had expected it to happen.

But as quickly as the kiss had started, it ended. Joe didn’t even get a chance to think whether he wanted to kiss back or not. The blonde boy still had his arms holding Joe’s shoulders, and he had pushed himself far enough for Joe to get a good look. His face was still as red as it could be, maybe a more intense tone than it was before, and his eyes were quickly moving around, scanning Joe’s face.

“Bye” the blonde yelped out before standing up and walking away. Fast. Joe turned in the direction the blonde was heading.

“Hey!” He called out, but the other boy was already gone. The sound of fireworks overwhelmingly loud in the background.

++++++++++++++++++

40 minutes later and Joe was waiting outside the venue for his dad, alongside his sister and their friends. He had bumped into them a few minutes after midnight, popping confetti and balloons.

“So? Mark said you made friends?” Zoe asked, attempting to make conversation with Joe, who had been a little quieter than usual since they reunited.

“Kinda” Joe answered, staring intently right in front of him instead of at his sister. “He left with his friends” he added in before Zoe asked more questions.

Luckily enough for him, his dad’s car was pulling into the entrance. He quickly stood up from the stairs they had been waiting on, being the only one from the group to notice the car, and called shotgun as he walked towards it. Once inside, they were greeted by his dad, who looked like he had enjoyed the party with his friends.

“Eventful night?” The older man asked as the group of loud and lively teens entered his car.

“You could say that” Joe muttered, but his comment was drowned out by the three in the back laughing and retelling anecdotes from that night.

#jaspar #jaspar fanfiction #fanfiction #fic:nyk #m #joe sugg #caspar lee #thatcherjoe

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optimistic-negative-thing · 7 years

Text

Maybe if I write this stuff down somewhere, it’ll mean something or made me feel better or whatever.

(Honestly, it’s a lot of whining, so I put it under to keep your feed cleaner.)

My apologies in advance, regardless.

There will be no organization to this rambling. Just a lot of jumbled thoughts.

You probably (have not) noticed that I’ve been basically completely absent for the last four months. Thanks, college. I was taking 16 credits and had a tutoring job and was working in my research lab (where basically nothing was working out in terms of experiments, hah, and I find out on the last day of class that what I actually accomplished this semester had to be completely SCRAPPED because the guy who did an update to our confocal microscope back in OCTOBER effed it up so all my data was bad lol) so I had zero time for fandom or tumblr or fanfiction or anything FUN. So I’m here to tell you that it’s not going to get any better and I will not be any more active from now on! ... I have 18 credits next semester and I don’t know why I keep thinking that’s a good idea because it is not. ;-; So if you were following me for consistency in posts, I’m afraid that’s officially been tossed out the window and is no longer really possible. Not that it’s the most important thing in the world by any means, but you know.

I want to write fanfiction still. Too bad I literally cannot anymore because there is actually no time for it. I’ve started my first Viktuuri fanfiction, and it’s not going to get done before I have to go back to school in two days after about two weeks of “break”. I wrote a MidoTaka thing a while ago that’s very likely never going to get the second chapter.

I also wanted to start really getting into drawing and fanart. I wanted to buy myself a nice tablet for a Christmas present, but I question if it’s worth it, again, because I won’t have the time to USE it.

I was supposed to look at summer Japanese language programs and start looking into JET Programme stuff and try to decide when I’m gonna start studying for/take the GRE and blah, blah, blah... But dammit, I just wanted two goddamn weeks to do nothing for once?

So that’s what I did. Sue me, world.

This New Years didn’t feel special in the least, because it wasn’t. I don’t have resolutions. I don’t have ambitions or anything. What I really want is the freedom to do what I want for once, even if that means doing absolutely nothing.

I haven’t been on much to talk about it, but Yuri!!! on ICE took over my life and made the end of 2016 fantastic. I feel harder for that show than I have for any other before it, including Kuroko no Basuke (which was the anime that brought me to Tumblr in the first place). I still love Kuroko and Free! with a passion, but holy shit, I have never felt more like a character than Katsuki Yuuri.

I don’t even want to talk about it. I see too much of myself in Yuuri, from the utter lack of self-confidence to the fear of letting other people down and everything in between.

I’m really pulling for a season two.

I keep thinking back to the best memory of 2016, which is by far and away seeing and singing with OLDCODEX back in July. I’m still immensely thankful for that experience and I WILL see them again someday. I hope their final shows of the Fixed Engine tour go well, and that they find even more success and happiness in 2017.

They pulled me from a very dark place, and continue to do so to this day when the shadows loom (as they are now).

I’m going to go watch their Veni Vidi performance of night flight and smile.

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maneaterwithtail · 5 years

Text

A lot of people were acquainted with him through his prolific participation in News & Politics, but to me Aaron was always an author, one half of the team behind Hybrid Theory. That fic was a bastion of creativity, drama, and wry humor; a ludicrous and ambitious premise, played gloriously straight. It provided me with much-needed hope and entertainment in years past. His death comes as a punch in the gut, and takes the wind of optimism out of my sails.

I never knew him well, and now I never will. Rest in peace, Aaron. The world is lessened by your absence from it.

-orm Ember

I didn't want to write this.

Not just for the obvious reasons, that nobody likes to say goodbye to a friend like this. I didn't want to make this about me, because it isn't about me. I wanted to say something about him, to tell his story, to express the tiniest part of the loss I feel in a way others could understand.

But I came to realise that it wasn't for me to tell his story. I can't. That story was for him to tell, and unfortunately, he cannot. The only story I have to tell is the story of us. So that's what I'll do.

I met Aaron Peori when we were both new in high school, about twenty-five years ago. Glace Bay High was the tenth of the eleven schools that I attended in my eleven years of schooling, and so by then I was almost as well-practiced in "meet new friends" as I was in "meet the new local pack of bullies". Walking home, I noticed one guy about my age that always walked alone, reading a book. In other words, a fellow nerd, a weirdo, an outcast. Like me. After a couple of days of spotting this lone reading fellow, he happened to be reading a book by Christopher Pike, an author I also had books by. That was, as the saying goes, an opening.

"Hey, isn't that a Christopher Pike book?" I asked this stranger, casually, as if I hadn't already known.

He looked up at me, not even showing any surprise that some weirdo had walked up and asked about the book his nose was in. "Yes," he said, peering at me owlishly from behind his glasses, then after a moment added, "He's a good author."

By the time we reached home that day, we were already good friends. From that point on, in fact, we were virtually inseparable, aided by the fact that he lived almost literally in my backyard.

From the very beginning, we were creative collaborators. At first, we were using GI Joes and a few other toys in elaborate setpiece dioramas that spanned his house's enclosed front porch, and sometimes spilled out to occupy part of the year as well. Factions, sacrifices, betrayals, and no doubt embarassing-in-retrospect dialogue were all a part of those first afternoons and weekends.

I think he first got a copy of the Marvel Super Heroes RPG from his cousin. Before I'd met him, Aaron and his cousin had both been drawing their own comics about a space-based superhero team called Sonis. Now, with a tool that you could use tell stories about superheroes, and rules to arbitrate - our new great dioramas were ones made of words, not toys. I quickly made my own "expanded universe", about a group of mercenary superheroes called Heroes For Hire.

At that point, what turned out to be a very long-lasting pattern was set. Aaron was the GM, and I was the player. Aaron created the worlds, and I lived the characters in them. He did want me to be the GM sometimes (it's more fun being the player!), but I was always uncomfortably aware how much better at it he was than me, and so I felt intimidated to pit my own lesser stories against the epics he created.

As time went on, another pattern that would be long-lasting emerged: Aaron and I's stories became vastly greater in scope. He rewrote the resolution system of the game to account for much higher power levels than the original design used (Ochre feats!), and eventually we dispensed with the rules altogether, playing completely free-form with no set rules and only the occasional dice roll. I learned to handle multiple characters at once, and bored at the success easily reached by my insanely overpowered characters, learned to find more fun in getting them in trouble instead. Aaron learned to handle the narrative challenges faced by trying to craft stories about protagonists who had literal "I win" powers, and weren't very likeable to boot.

Very little of Heroes For Hire would be something I wouldn't be embarassed to show off today, but my former internet nom de guerre "Blade" comes from the most central and overpowered character of those days.

About a year before I left Cape Breton, Aaron and I discovered two things of lasting consequence: anime, via his having a comic adaptation of the movie "Project A-ko" in his huge box of comics that I would regularly raid, and fanfiction, which I had been introduced to via USENET by another friend of mine, Mark MacIsaac. After I left, Aaron had more free time, and thus he started writing a story that combined two of his favourite things: the then-popular anime Ranma 1/2, and Star Wars.

Aaron wrote prolifically, longhand on sheaths of paper, in his inscrutable and typo-laden scrawl. My role in those first stories, for all they were credited under both our names, was just to type these up and edit them - but that wasn't a small task, to be fair. I can type 60wpm despite still pecking with two fingers instead of touch-typing, a skill that dates to those early manuscripts.

That level of collaboration, though, wasn't enough. Soon we took to role-playing games again, and I took on various Ranma characters in lengthy phone conversations where he was once again the DM. Those games formed several of the plots for Ranma: Curse of Darkness, and the entirety of the plot of Kyoto Chronicles (sadly never actually finished), along with other stories both Ranma and non that never made it to the internet. Again, he would write the scripts and I would type them up, now with more creative control and editing.

The time came when we once again lived in the same city, able to really collaborate with both of us writing scenes. All of this finally culminated in Hybrid Theory, our longer-than-Lord-of-the-Rings magnum opus, and something we were both pretty proud of despite the various flaws and that we totally botched poor Rei's character arc.

After writing something like that, we were sure, it would be easy to write something for professional publication. But unfortunately, it never came to be. Circumstances separated us again, several promising projects got stalled after a few chapters, and then the grinding workload he faced at his job hurt his ability to write consistently.

But Aaron never stopped writing fanfiction. His mind never stopped working. Most of what he wrote was "junk" in his words, and he wouldn't even show it to me, but he was still thinking up stories and worlds and his favourite thing of all: elaborate fight scenes. He once told me he could write in any series, no matter how crappy or derivative, "as long as the main characters can run up walls".

It frustrates me that I cannot prove to anyone here how brilliant Aaron was, because that brilliance was hidden behind the various flaws in his prose style. His prospensity for typos never did much improve, though he could at least spellcheck stuff he wrote on a computer rather than longhand. He never got hung up like me searching for the exact right word, and so he often just used the same words over and over. For those that read his last work, I can only explain that I took out a ton of "snaps" - "snapped her head back", "snapped his wrist forward", "the snake snapped out" and yet there are STILL that many in there. I was going to do a much more thorough editing pass when it was finished.

But that is all surface-level. Where Aaron excelled was in his vision for a setting and story. He could take the ridiculous and make it somehow sublime - indeed, he often challenged himself with making ridiculous or cliche concepts work. He could keep track of a million dancing pieces and know precisely which should enter the stage, and from where. It's not that I didn't contribute meaningfully to our collaborative efforts, but I often felt like a child with crayons colouring in the lines of a sketch by Da Vinci. Even if my colouring was good, it wasn't the masterpiece.

His players knew, though. Another habit Aaron kept for the rest of his life was GMing (though he enjoyed playing, when the opportunity was afforded to him), even if he couldn't do it as much in recent years. Aaron was a masterful GM, able to coax out strong story arcs and dramatic moments from players of any skill level, able to make NPCs that the players hated or loved or both, able to coax rambunctious player parties into dramatic clashes and events that never felt railroaded. But perhaps even more than that, he was a master of making game rules work for him instead of against him. Aaron loved role playing game rules: one of his primary hobbies and uses of his spare cash was to buy new gamebooks, even if he never planned to use them for a game. He'd devour them, expertly analyse their strengths and flaws, modify and house-rule them to his liking, and even a notoriously tricky game to GM like Exalted flowed smoothly in his hands.

His set of replacement Dragonblooded charms are still the best and most flavourful charmset ever made for them. And he always maintained that the best game system to run Star Wars with was the pulp action game Adventure! - which was the very last game I'd play with him. He was, as always on these matters, completely correct.

In another world, even with the problems we had, I'm sure Aaron could have been a published author. The problem, if problem it was, was that Aaron's prolificness stemmed from his own joy in writing and creating. Ultimately, if he was more interested in writing about a magical self-insert Sakura than he was in something "professional", then that's what he did. He took note of criticism and changed things if he got it, but ultimately the only critic whose opinion he internalised was himself. He wrote because he enjoyed writing. If somebody else enjoyed what he did, great. If nobody did, he'd write anyway.

Aaron and I were so close that my father asked me if we were gay once. We weren't - I'm straight, and he was (unknowingly at the time) asexual. But we loved each other anyway. We had the kind of easy camraderie and understanding where we could nostalge and talk for hours upon hours, week upon week, and never get bored even when we didn't have really anything to talk about. We were never bored of each other's company. From that very first day we met, we understood each other in ways that nobody else ever did, or ever would. I never pictured my life without Aaron in it. I was going to be a writer, I knew at 15 years old, with Aaron. I was going to move back to Canada someday - and live near Aaron.

There is a hole, and it cannot be filled. It hurts, and it will always hurt. And yet I am greater for having it. It is unthinkable to wish that I didn't have it. My life without Aaron is unthinkable. I'll have to think of it, maybe another day, but not yet.

Aaron's last few years were difficult in some ways. He stuck in a predatory, horrible job that left him perpetually sick and exhausted, the only thing in the 25 years I knew him that actually forced him to stop writing and GMing for any length of time. He was too proud to take help, too tired to look for an alternative. He nearly died of a perforated ulcer a few years ago, and that added "chronic pain" to his ailments, and being him, he would only take painkillers when it became unbearable. It was unsustainable, we knew it, but he was always reaching for that promotion that would finally bring the shorter hours he had been asking for. In the meantime, he'd always say "Don't worry about me, I'm fine." I wish he had been right.

And yet.

In those same years, Aaron discovered himself. He discovered that he wasn't the strange not-wanting-sex freak he had grown up thinking he was, that there were many people like him out there. He got in touch with the emotions he had suppressed within himself due to a traumatic childhood experience, and while he sometimes had difficulty handling his newfound sadness (he was striken by grief like I'd never seen over the death of his grandfather) or anger (political topics were verboten in our conversations over the last few years), I believe that for all the pain and overwork and lack of creative output he was still in some ways never happier than he was these last few years.

He told me once that he wanted to find a partner of either gender, who didn't need or didn't want sex, but could be with him and hold him close when he needed it. I cried, and told him I knew he could find someone once he was out of that job. He deserved it. He deserved that happiness too.

This forum (although not solely) had a lot to do with him discovering himself, and that is why I felt I had to post about him here. You meant more to him than you know, and to some of you, though I don't know your names, I owe a debt I can never repay. Whoever you are, thank you so much. You helped him in a way I couldn't. The joy and hope of his last years came from the help you gave him.

And that's the end of the story of us. Aaron was exhausted, pushing himself beyond what he ever should have - now, at least, he can rest. Aaron was in pain, but now the pain is gone. There was nothing good or right or kind or acceptable about it, but it can't be changed, it can't be helped.

Goodbye, Aaron. I love you. Thank you for writing stories with me.

-Chris Mcneil addressing sufficient velocity forums

#rip #fandom #author of hybrid theory #major custom exalted charm wonker #writer #internet opinion guy

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