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justasparkwritings · 3 years

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Troll In Love: Part 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers, Non-Idol AU

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: What happens when your work nemesis and your ultimate troll team up to flip your world upside down?

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! Look out for Part 2 later this week.

This fic is dedicated to, written for the incomparable @xjoonchildx, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of.

Banner by me.

Monday: Pitch Meeting

“Everyone has an inherent archnemesis,” Claire began her presentation, eyes peering across the conference room, attempting to make thoughtful eye contact with her peers.

Finally, a staff writer, this pitch marked her first foray into feature writing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, in her three years at the company as a freelance writer, it wasn’t that she didn’t draft proposals, complete preliminary research, no, she absolutely did. But there was always someone in front of her, someone who always came around the corner, nicking first place with seconds to spare. Claire hated you from the moment you arrived, bright eyed and excited, a recent college graduate gunning for a position at the magazine. While it took her years to pitch a cover story feature, years to move from an assistant to full-time staff writer, you had done so in a handful of years.

Today, Claire decided, that would change. She had prepped and planned for weeks, laid in wait for Marissa to give her the go ahead to pitch her idea to the team. Adjusting her Dior, she shifted from heel to heel before speaking again.

“We all have that one person who no matter what we post, they find a way to demean it, turn it negative, make it about something completely unrelated. Whether that’s politics, or religion, or sex, there is that one troll we can’t help but root against. My proposal is to use a few members of staff to find their internet trolls, to engage with them over a period of time, and if they’re willing, interview them, both separately and together. I want to discover what it is that makes them keep commenting, why they always seem to gravitate towards certain posts, who their audience is and how it relates to our greater understandings of our enemies.” Claire sighed, the heavy lifting of her presentation just beginning.

“I like it, who do you want to use?” Marissa asked.

“Someone from each of our most high-profile teams, or the people in our office that have the largest social media followings. For a few that overlaps,”

“Who are those people?”

“Y/N, Jaxson, Hoseok, Emma and Bridgette,” Claire explained. “They have an average Instagram following of ten thousand, and on Twitter it’s twelve thousand.”

“What do you post that gets you so many followers?” Gillian questioned.

“My ass,” Jaxson laughed. “But really, it’s Drag Race content,”

“Good, you have a list. I need written permission from each of you to interview you and your top internet harassers.”

“I’d like to request that my name be off the list,” You asked, hand still raised.

Hoseok asked, knowing the answer deep in his bones. “Why?”

“I just, I don’t think it’d be a –

“Nonsense, you have a large following, I’m sure there’s someone who pisses you off regularly,” Marissa interrupted.

“Yes, there is! What’s his name? Jimin?” Claire pretended to scan her page, her cursory glance perfunctory instead of practical.

You heard the gasp leave Hoseok’s mouth before you registered what was happening.

“Fuck you!” You snapped. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but the sentiment remains.”

“It was, but it also sealed your fate.” Marissa stood. “Start assembling your team and listen to Claire, I’m sure she has a list of things she needs from you.”

“I do!” Claire chimed.

“Great, get me the contracts from legal and get it to each of the people you’ve listed before 5PM today, I want signed consent before you leave this building.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You asked, your final plea.

“You owe her for the debacle with your last interview,” Marissa reminded you.

“It’s not my fault they were drunk both times! I got the article done and out. It was one of our biggest issues in the last year and was followed up by two other feature pieces by me that beat that record,” You countered, your success an unnecessary brag in a room full of people who feared and admired your work.

“I don’t care, Y/N, handle it,” Marissa sauntered out, her assistants following close behind.

Slouching in your chair, your eyes landed on Claire, glaring daggers into her perfectly straight midnight bob. She was everything you hated, a brown noser, a narcissist, a career driven monster who had been biting at your heels since you arrived. She was jealous, blinded by some lofty goal that she’d be an editor or editor in chief before 28, a feat rare in fashion, unless you were Elaine Welterwroth or Margaret Zhang, of course. They had become editors and editors in chief by ages 29 and 27 respectively. Though Zhang had begun her career blogging at 16, a fact that only infuriated Claire who was too busy popping pimples and trying to lose her virginity to her junior varsity boyfriend.

Claire could spend days listing everything she hated about you. She hated your easy interactions with coworkers, the ability to have the entire room stop and listen when you spoke, the craft of your written work and relationships maintained with subjects years after interviewing them. She hated how you left work with Hoseok on your arm or went to drinks with the assistants and interns. How you achieved so many bylines, becoming an editor in your own right without so much as breaking a sweat, while she was scraping the barrel to be noticed. You seemingly had everything Claire wanted, and Claire was sick of it.

Monday: Your Office

“Thank you, for your participation,” Claire said, sitting across from you in your office.

“You aren’t welcome, I’m actually rather unimpressed with your ability to ambush not only me but the other people you’ve trapped into doing your article,” You crossed your legs, adjusting the waist band of your trousers and continued to scowl at her. Claire had only heard of your less than cheerful personality, though it remained largely rumored, she had never had it confirmed or dared to see it in person.

“How, charming,” She rolled her eyes.

“Look, you don’t want to be talking to me, I don’t want to be talking to you. Just tell me what you want so I can send you on your way.”

Claire watched as you reached across your desk to grab your black and white planner, flipping open to the weeks page and holding your pen at the ready. The inside, covered in stickers and hand lettered phrases, fit the persona Claire so desperately wanted to mimic.

“I need you to read and sign this,” Claire slid the agreement across your glass desk. “Then, I need you to identify the username of your troll, and I need to borrow an intern from your team.”

“You can’t have one,”

“Marissa said I could have whatever I needed, and I need an intern to comb through your tweets.”

“I can save you the trouble, I rarely tweet, when I do, it’s addressing the same ass hat,” You explained.

“Well, I need their handle,”

“Fine,”

“And the intern,” Claire was firm.

You rolled your eyes, before pressing the intercom. “Hey Alexis, can you send Erin to me?”

“Sure thing,” Alexis replied.

“Thank you,”

Claire rolled her eyes.

“Jealous?” You questioned.

“Read the contract, sign it and send it back to me along with answering the Form that’s in your inbox,” Claire directed.

“Great,”

“I’ll be back on Friday to go over your tweets and exchanges before we decide on a tactic to reach out to them and ask them to come in for an interview,” Claire explained. It didn’t annoy you that she was prepared, but it did piss you off a little to know how much she had thought this through. Maybe you should give her a chance, professionally, not socially, Claire would remain a bottom feeder.

“Who says they’re in the city?” You questioned.

“If not, we’ll Zoom with them, okay?”

“Excuse me, you wanted to see me?” Erin peered through the door; wavy bangs parted slightly to expose her forehead and freckled cheeks.

“Yes, your projects are on hold. Claire here needs your help with her feature article, and as my intern, you are to report to her for the remainder of the project,” You explained.

Erin’s eyes widened, never had she been reassigned to a special project, let alone with Claire who was notorious for running interns and assistants into the ground. “Who will take over my work?”

“Can you make a list of where you’re at and send it to me? I will meet with the team tomorrow to talk about where we need to fill in the gaps,”

“Okay,”

“Claire, this is Erin, if you are a bitch to her, I will ensure you don’t ever write a feature piece or move past copy editor here or anywhere,”

“I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like –

“I am your superior, and you will respect my intern or face the consequences,”

“Fine,” Claire turned and left, leaving Erin wondering what on earth she had been roped into.

Tuesday: Happy Hour

“You gave the real handle?” Hoseok asked over drinks after work, a little happy hour to celebrate leaving the office before 7PM.

“What was I going to do? She could easily look at my Twitter and Instagram and find out, why lie?”

“What happened to preservation?” Hoseok mocked.

“Either I give in and get Claire off my back, or I get called to Marissa’s and have consequences, like I’m a fucking child.”

Hoseok eyed you suspiciously. “Did you give her his name?”

“You saw in that meeting, she already knows. I blame you,”

“Me?”

“Yes you, always talking about dance classes with Jimin, the good old days of photographing him and styling him in college. He abandoned me to go to school with you, and you’ve taken it all in stride.” You explained. It wasn’t a new story, a new plea, a new exploration of your tempestuous non-relationship with Jimin. It was sad, really, listening to you express the hurt you’ve never let go of.

“He didn’t abandon you to come to school with me,” Hoseok laughed.

“Potato, Tomato,”

“You should talk-

“Nope, you made your once monthly ‘you should talk to Jimin’ comment a week ago over margheritas, you don’t get another for ten more days,” You scolded.

“Fine, fine.”

“I don’t even know where he is,” You muttered, pink liquid of your Paloma slipping down your throat.

“That’s a lie,”

“Can you stop calling me out and let me hate him?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but the constant chatter revolving around Jimin was too much to handle, it was too much in two days, too much in the years since you last saw him. Park Jimin was, and has remained, too much.

“Fine,” Hoseok resigned. “Have you looked at your tweets lately?”

“No, I refuse to go back and read whatever horrors I wrote in 2019,”

“You should,” He suggested.

“I guarantee Claire will force me to read them. Probably aloud at some last-minute staff meeting she puts together on Friday to fucking fillet me,” You rolled your eyes again, the last dregs of grapefruit clumping together as they slid down the side of your glass.

“Maybe if you weren’t so,” He starts.

“Bitchy?”

“Your words, then she would like you,”

“She’s hated me since I got there, I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being cordial. Claire and I will never mix,” You explained.

“He’s gone blonde you know,” Hoseok’s eyes have flittered past you, glancing down the street at the setting sun, glad he brought his latest Gucci jacket to keep him warm in the early spring evening.

“Didn’t you hit your moratorium on how long you can talk about Jimin in a conversation?”

“You said his name!” Hoseok argued.

“He isn’t Trump, Hoseok. I can say his name, sometimes.”

Hoseok let the moment simmer, cooling gently before turning it up to a raucous boil. “I’m having a kick back next Wednesday, will you come?”

“If he’s not there,” You answered.

“I can’t promise that,”

“Then I can’t promise either,” Chewing the ice from your glass, you let your mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen should you show up to Hoseok’s party and are greeted by Jimin. Blonde Jimin. Jimin with the sparkling eyes and winning smile. Jimin who harasses you on the internet weekly, Jimin who you haven’t spoken to since you were 22, Jimin whom you hated with every fiber of your being.

Worst case scenario, you couldn’t avoid him and would be forced to speak words to him. Best case, you time it perfectly and he’s either just left or hasn’t arrived and you can doll out pleasantries before Irish-goodbying and never having to confront him.

“Y/N, please, you haven’t seen my new place yet and it’s finally furnished,” Hoseok pleaded.

“I’ll think about it,” You resigned.

“Great!”

“I fucking hate you and our friendship,” You scoffed, signaling the waiter to bring you the check. You should’ve ordered food, being buzzed and talking about Jimin was never a good idea.

“I know you do.” Hoseok winked before picking up the tab for you both.

“At least tell me you haven’t invited Seokjin,” You asked, slipping your coat over your shoulders.

“Well-

“You’re fucking with me, right?” You questioned. “You fucking invited both of my exes to a, I’m sorry, kick back? Hoseok, no.”

“I love you, and I’m sorry, Seokjin helped me find some great pieces for the place, and you know he’s friends with Namjoon and Jungkook,” He tried to explain.

“That doesn’t mean I want to stare at them over my tenth flute of champagne and my plate which will be piled high with cheese and crackers and pieces of salami.”

“You and Seokjin are fine though, you ended-

“Don’t say amicably,” You cut him off.

“Well, close to it. Please,” He begged. Begging never looked good on Hoseok.

Staring into his dark irises, a shade mimicking your own, you couldn’t hold the anger brewing. Being around Seokjin was always a better alternative than Jimin. Though the pity he often felt towards you, at your angered state which has never really subsided, was embarrassing. “I’ll think about it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok pulled you into a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, then why do you keep doing this to me?”

“Because I love you,”

“Tell Taehyung to call me,” You said, waving to him before stepping into the waiting Lyft you’d called at the bar.

“I will, can’t make any promises,” Hoseok winked before turning towards the subway, where he’d pull out his head phones and scan through the photos he’d taken throughout the day, waiting to get home to Taehyung to analyze, edit and critique them.

Thursday: Claire’s Makeshift Office

“Are you ready?” Claire asked, sifting through the papers on her desk.

“You had me come to your office, after you scheduled a meeting to ask if I’m ready? Yes Claire, I’m fucking ready,” You snapped.

“Erin,” Claire gestured towards your intern who tried to hold her eye roll.

“So, I combed through your tweets, sifting through your interactions with Mochimin, which is a very creative username,” Erin began.

“Yeah, his name and nickname combined,” You rolled your eyes.

“And we read through them all, well mostly me… and I have to ask, are you sure these are your tweets?” Erin questioned.

“Yes, and what should be his responses,” You answered reaching forward to grab the printed copies waiting for you. You scanned over the interactions, the subtweets, the blatant tags, the retweets and comments not just by Jimin, but a few of your friends too.

“Why have you been telling us he’s the troll?” Erin asked.

Her question caught you off guard, eyes wide, shock echoing in your bones.

“What the fuck? What do you mean? Look at how he fucking responded!”

“Y/N, you’re the troll!” Erin laughed. “It’s you, not him,”

“I am not! This is a fucking joke! It’s not April Fools yet, way to put the cart before the horse!” Your voice radiated throughout the small conference room.

Claire, not having an office of her own, had requested it to conduct most of her teams work. It was your least favorite of the conference rooms, colder both in décor and temperature than the others, it was situated on the corner leading to the kitchen. Glass on two walls, it was the definition of exposed. Everyone could see your outburst. Everyone could watch you fall to pieces. You guessed Claire had planned it this way, to demonstrate how focused her team was, how dedicated to the project they were, to show everyone her value as a staff writer instead of a freelancer. You also assumed she did this to ensure that whatever break down you were beginning to have, would have at least ten witnesses, ten people to side with her that your behavior was irresponsible and reckless.

“Oh please, get over yourself,” Claire chuckled. The light in her eyes proved your assumptions, she was enjoying this. “Do you see how you interact with him?”

“What do you mean how I interact with him? He started this!” You lowered your volume, side glances from colleagues passing by alerting you to the unprofessional decibels you’d began reaching.

“In almost every interaction, you bait him, hook line and sinker. It’s you, Y/N,” Erin explained.

“No!”

“Yes, this poor man, just living his life while you’re purposefully harassing him!” Claire feigned shock, eyes widening, mouth slightly open. It was taking everything in you not to resort to physical violence.

“I would never,” You glowered.

“You have! For years, it’s always you,” Erin said again.

“I, no, that’s impossible. He started it!”

“Admitting is the first step,” Claire’s placid smile was demanding to be smacked off.

“Fuck you! This is ridiculous!”

“July 10, 2020: Thinking of one man in particular, hoping the bleach in his locks burns in the summer heat.Followed by his comment: thinking of one woman in particular, hoping she knows I wear a hat and use purple shampoo.” Erin read.

“I, I, no!”

“October 13: Nothing makes me happier than not being invited to a birthday bash with all my friends. He responded: All you have to do is ask. On your birthday, he tweeted: Happy B-Day to the girl who … oh never mind she hates me. You responded: nobody asked for your half-hearted bullshit, next time I hope you choke on it.”

“He started it!”

“Why are you so awful to him?” Erin wanted to know.

“I am not, he began harassing me first,” You tried to argue.

“Does Hoseok know?” Claire chided.

“Know what?”

“About your vendetta,”

“It’s not a vendetta!”

“Then explain why you tweet or subtweet him at least twice a week, and then when he responds, tweet him again! You don’t even tag him, just vaguely mention discernable parts of his personality or appearance,” Erin explained.

“I do not! How do you know what he looks like?” You tried to counter.

“His profile picture, and a certain friend of yours doesn’t mind sharing-

“You asked Jungkook? Or was it Taehyung? Or I’m sorry, both?” Your eyes were wide, breathing labored, anger boiling to inhumane levels.

“Well, if we asked Hoseok you would’ve kno-

“You called or texted or DM’ed Jungkook and Taehyung, and asked about Jimin?”

“Yes,” Erin bowed her head, guilt written into the freckles her blush tried so desperately to hide.

“I cannot believe you, Erin,” You spat.

“I’m sorry Claire wanted me to,”

You turned your gaze to Claire, who had begun to cower in her seat.

“You did the one thing, the absolute one thing that you knew, you fucking knew, would set me off. You did this on purpose, you fucking bottom feeder, you fucking dillweed you crossed the fucking line, Claire,” You spat. Your volume had lowered into a low growl, far more deadly and intimidating than any yelling you had done.

“We have the proof, Y/N, you can’t deny it, you attack Jimin regularly,” Claire unskillfully attempted to move the conversation away from Jungkook and Taehyung. Like you would balk at her intrusion.

“You don’t get to violate my personal life, to violate the lives of the people I care deeply about, to expose sources and put them in danger should this article go south, poking and prodding into the lives of people who are dealing with their own bullshit to push your own fucking agenda, Claire,” You were seething, Te Fiti in Moana, Mrs. Weasley against Bellatrix, Kim Kardashian against the ocean searching for her diamond. Your wrath knows no bounds, and Claire had finally crossed the line into territory she could never come back from.

“It’s for the job, nothing personal.” Claire shrugged. You could see it in her eyes, she wanted blood and was elated to be getting it.

“This is entirely personal.”

“Well, you can ask Jimin about it when we interview him,” She smiled, lips upturning revealing her veneers, red lipstick perfectly matte and shaped against her thin flesh.

“No, absolutely not,” You shook your head.

“Yes, that’s part of the deal you agreed to,”

“I take it back. I revoke my consent!”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Marissa said. She had sauntered in during your berating, watching as you tried and failed to continue believing that you weren’t the troll. “You have agreed to this, and you will sit through the interview and cordially answer Claire’s questions.”

“Marissa, this is crossing a line,” You stated.

“You have to be held accountable,” Claire said.

“Fuck you, Claire. Believe it or not, there are somethings that are beyond your understanding and a few that are not appropriate for work,” You continued to scold her.

“Y/N, why are you being so hostile?” Claire was mocking you, with Marissa by her side, she was invincible.

“You picked me on purpose. What have you been working with Hoseok? Is this some larger plan to get me to talk to Jimin? I don’t want to talk with Jimin or talk to Jimin, isn’t it bad enough he’s being brought into my work? Oh and let’s not forget you using Erin and Hoseok to gain access to Jungkook and Taehyung, who are beyond off limits.” You listed each of her offenses, careful to leave out indiscretions that occurred before this project of hers began.

“You agreed to-

“No, I was forced to do this by you, Marissa,” You began.

It wasn’t hard to glower at Marissa, one of the most decorated editors in chief, beloved by Condé Nast, best friend of Anna Wintour… Everyone aspired to be her, but in the last year, through your promotion and growing turbulence within the magazine, her leadership had begun to falter. Her steady hand, guiding each staff writer and editor towards success and elevating everyone’s work, was crumbling at an alarming pace. Yet, no one knew why or if anything was being done to rectify the damage her wake was leaving.

“I was coerced into this under some pretense that I owe Claire something for a so called fuck up that resulted in the biggest boon in our magazines readership in the last year, which was followed up by not one but two feature bylines and my promotion. I have done more than enough at this company, in this industry, to sit here and be forced to engage with a man who destroyed my world. I will not speak with him, or to him or listen to him. I will not, and if you force me, I will get legal involved. Should this bullshit continue, you can expect my letter of resignation next week.”

Standing and shoving your chair in, you turned on the heels of your Oxfords and marched straight to your office. Closing your laptop and shoving your planner into your tote, you grabbed your phone.

“Where are you going?” Hoseok asked. He moved in time with you, following down the many corridors of your office and towards the elevators.

As you stepped in, you pressed lobby and waited for the doors to be closed before turning to him.

“Did you tell Erin she could contact Jungkook and Taehyung?” You asked.

“She did what?” Hoseok yelled, soundwaves bounding off the metal and plastic of the elevator, reverberating in your ears.

“Did you?”

“No, I can’t believe she, are you serious?” Hoseok couldn’t lie, a fundamental flaw in his design made it impossible for him to tell the smallest fib.

“Did you work with Erin and Claire to get me involved in this feature? To get me to talk to Jimin?” You didn’t mince your words or pad your language to make him feel less attacked. You needed the answer, and you needed it now.

“No, I didn’t know Claire was doing this until she pitched it. You think I would-

“Hoseok, they called Jungkook and Taehyung. They want Jimin to come in to be interviewed, they won’t stop until I-

“Until you what?”

“Marissa has always supported me, championed me. But Claire has her number, she has her locked and loaded, aiming for me and I don’t know why,” You confided.

“She has been slipping lately,” He agreed. “There’s only one way to stop this,”

Together you stepped out of the elevator, moving past the turnstiles to the revolving door.

“Am I crazy?” You asked, the insecurity beginning to overtake your bravery.

“No, something weird is going on,”

You clarified, “No, I mean, am I crazy for… for doing this to Jimin?”

“I don’t know if you’re crazy, but you’ve definitely not been your best self,” Hoseok answered.

“He makes me so-

“You still love him,” Hoseok interrupted.

“I-

“Go talk to him,” Hoseok encouraged. “Call me after, we can get drinks and wallow or pick out an outfit for your hot date.”

“What if he-

“Just, talk to him, okay?” Hoseok requested.

“Okay,”

“I’ll check in with Jungkookie and Taehyungie,” He assured.

“Thank you,”

“I’ll also scope out open positions, we can’t stay here,”

“I love you, Hobi,” You confided, a statement that flowed so easily past your lips, you didn’t have to think or parse through the emotions that went along with it. You’ve always loved him, always will.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Hoseok draped his arm around your shoulders before placing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle embrace, a squeeze of confidence, a gesture of love. He moved swiftly from you back into the building, and as you watched him walk away, you took a deep breath.

Taking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number you had tried to forget.

“To what do I owe this unexpected delight of a call?” He asked. His voice was the same, chipper and cunning in the same breath.

“I need to speak with you, ASAP,” You told him.

“Okay, I’m working from home today, come over whenever,” He invited you without hesitation.

“You still live at the same place?”

“No, moved up. I’ll send you the address,”

“You know who this is?” You asked, uncertainty back in your bones.

“What, Y/N, you thought I deleted your number?” Jimin laughed, one of only a few sounds that shot right to your knees, making any posture unstable in the docile sounds of his joy.

“I, I don’t know, I guess. Look I’m going to hail a cab, I’ll be there in 20,”

“I look forward to it, just tell the doorman you’re here for me and he’ll let you up,” Jimin said.

“Okay, see you soon, I guess,”

“I can’t wait,” Jimin was smiling, you couldn’t see it, but the lilt in his voice was all the assurance you needed. Bracing yourself for the impact of him, of his voice, of his laugh, of the way he looked at you, you hailed one of the last remaining cabs in the city and prayed for courage.

Next: Troll in Luv Pt. 2

103 notes · View notes

optimismrpt · 3 years

Photo

HOW RIGBY RUNS A ROLEPLAY : A VERY SPECIFIC GUIDE ( OF SORTS )

BONUS CONTENT: ACCEPTANCE DAY

I think it’s essentially to start with this disclaimer: This is merely how I run a rp and I’m not saying by any means it is how a rp should be run. I have found success through these methods all in combination and I can’t promise that they work all the time.

IMPORTANT ! if you use this guide as a basis for your rp please credit back to me somewhere on your front page, rules, or plot! this is a very specific type of rp (small limited run plot heavy skeleton rp) that i have worked very hard to develop over the past five years. i want you to learn from my successes and failures, and please give credit where it is due!

It is a lot of work! Like A LOT! And if you don’t have time to admin with full commitment this is not the right type of rp to attempt.

With that in mind, let’s go!

FULL GUIDE IN THE SOURCE LINK!

BEFORE THE ACTUAL DAY

First of all, getting apps is fun and it’s easy to get wrapped up in the excitement and want to move things forward as soon as possible. However, I recommend you don’t rush! Do not move up your acceptance date or the date that you close the inbox! This isn’t fair to the people who were planning on finishing up their apps before the original deadline who now have to crunch to meet the new deadline or may not be able to make the new deadline at all because of irl responsibilities. It’s always good to give lots of warning for the inbox closing and stick to it!

I also recommend that you do not lower the threshold of people needed to open. Sometimes it can be disheartening to set an app threshold at ten and then only get six apps, even if the days grind on with no new apps, stick it out and keep promoting! Opening with less than eight characters (and for apples I’d say 15 characters) is going to make activity lackluster. It’s better to delay opening for the sake of having a grand first day than to jump the gun and end up making the rp fizzle before it can even start.

About 52 hours before acceptances are set to take place I like to write out a to-do list and put it in my drafts. It usually involves ‘write acceptance posts, update skeletons, update main, post acceptances, post follows, post opening note’. Just having everything you need to do between then and opening written out in order is so helpful. And being able to check things off the list creates both a feeling of relief and excitement. So make a plan, determine how soon everything needs to be done, and work through it meticulously. In the rush of opening day it can be easy to forget important things like updating the triggers page.

If I have time I try to write everything hours in advance. When it comes to things like opening announcements and plot drops I try to write those at least 24 hours of their release time. And this is why I like, for competitive rps, to close the inbox and then give myself at least two hours to deliberate. But I’d even encourage giving yourself 6 hours between the inbox closing and posting acceptances. I know that’s a while to make people wait but apps can get pretty long and reading them all (and probably rereading a few of them multiple times) can be a lengthy process!

I always try not to read the apps at all before the deliberation time. I find that if I read an app when it comes in that gives the first person an advantage because they have more time for me to adapt to their vision and start to assimilate it and get attached. And that’s not fair to the people who may have stumbled upon the rp later. So I just read the app far enough to get the info for the app count.

Just as a general rule I like to post important dates and times in at least two different timezones. For example ‘Acceptances are at 6am GMT / 1pm EST / 10pm PST ’. That way you can show that you are keeping other timezones in mind. And plus it’s nice to just to the conversion work so your applicants don’t have to.

DELIBERATION TIME

Start by reading the apps which don’t have competition. These ones are easiest because it’s not a matter of determining whether they are the best of the bunch, it’s just deciding whether or not they are are passable. So I always read those first and then write their acceptance post immediately after I make my decision so that at least I’ll have that to post at the set acceptance date. That way, even if I haven’t made a decision on all the apps I’ll have something to post to show that I am reading apps and trying to stick to schedule!

When your are dealing with competitive apps there are a few things I look for in an application:

The most important is that the applicant seems willing to talk to you. This could be asks, ims, or even a little note in the app! Writers who want to make it clear what their intentions/desires/goals are ooc are going to be the easiest to work with! Plus it gives you an idea of how flexible they are! Those who dig their heels in when you offer up alternative suggestions are probably not good to work with. You want to find someone who has direction, intention, and ideas but don’t treat your ideas (or anyone else’s) as lesser than their own.

Call for humor! I’ve found that I have trouble with people who take themselves and their characters too seriously. This means that they often won’t be up for plotting since they don’t want their character to be anything less than graceful. Humor is a really good sign that a writer is fun, creative, and understands their character.

I also get wary of people who overhype the rp. Making edits/adding memes in the talk tag is all very nice, but when it looks like an rpt is promoting my rp just to give themselves an advantage over other applicants I tend to count that against them. I don’t like the idea of an rpt trying to use their signal boosting and popularity in the rpc as leverage over me.

One of the biggest red flags is someone not sticking to the skeleton! If someone blatantly disregards one or more aspects of the skeleton that is an instant strike against them. I don’t like it when people have ocs that they adapt to fit a skeleton because most of the time that means that they don’t really care about the skeleton and your ideas. However, if they contact me about changes to the skeleton in advance and ask if some edits are alright then that’s actually a really good sign! I want people to play a character that they are happy about and I’m willing to change up any skeleton. I just need to know the applicant is willing to work with me instead of against me.

Do not be afraid to deny applications. I used to never do this because I felt it was too mean and judgmental but now I realize I reserve the right as an admin to deny any app or character that I don’t vibe with. Go with your gut, and if the application is making you uncomfortable or nervous in any way, do not accept them. Sometimes it’s better to have one role go unwritten than to have someone who isn’t good for the group. Because both ic and ooc dynamics contribute to the effectiveness and survival of the group, you need to be excited to work with everyone and their characters.

One of the ways that I protect myself from muns who may not be right for the rp is by putting a password in the rules. Often the apps that make me uncomfortable are the ones that disregard or contradict the skeleton or plot. It’s clear that the mun either wasn’t paying attention, reading the pages carefully, or just chose to ignore what they read. It’s often That the apps that I don’t vibe with end up being the ones that don’t read the rules and therefor don’t put the password. So not only is it a good indicator to me that the mun might not be very considerate but it’s also a great default reason to deny an app without having to tell the mun directly that you didn’t like other aspects of their app. Most often I allow them to reapply if they’d like to but their acceptance won’t be immediate, so that there’s a chance someone else might apply for the same role with an application than doesn’t skeeve me out.

ONCE YOU’VE MADE THE DECISION

Write out your acceptance notes. I try to write a full paragraph for everyone when I am accepting for a skeleton rp. If there’s more than 20 characters being accepted then obviously don’t, since that’s way too much to ask of you. But if it’s a small group I always endorse writing a little welcome the chosen mun saying what ti was about their appt hat you gravitated towards. It’s kind of a way to also provide feedback to those who were denied as to what their app might have been missing. Plus, it’s just a good way to get the right vibes going for the ooc portion of the rp. Muns need to feel appreciated! After all they put in the work to get there!

I also like to offer feedback to those who were denied but with a disclaimer that most apps are chosen based on how they mesh with the other apps, since that’s something no one can anticipate. Usually the quality of the writing isn’t as big of a factor as how the character plays into dynamics with the others and whether or not their desired plots and connections with your vision and everyone else’s. Most of the time people won’t take you up on it, but be kind and thoughtful to those who do. However, if they are aggressive towards you in any way because they are upset about being denied block them immediately. Just trust me on that one.

Keep everyone updated as to your progress! Just telling everyone where you are at (in the process of reading apps, writing the acceptance notes, or taking a break) is a good way to put everyone’s minds at ease. It’s especially important to let people know if you are logging off for a while on acceptance day. That way people aren’t stuck refreshing the page and dreading that you might be ignoring them. On acceptance day I like to make a post every time I come online or go offline. It may seem like oversharing but it’s honestly so helpful to both you and the applicants.

POST-ACCEPTANCES

Once you are about to start posting acceptance notes, turn off anon. I know that anon can be very useful for those shy and curious folks that don’t want to im you directly, but this is another case where you’re just gonna have to trust me. For your mental health turn off anon and keep it off for at least 48 hours. I usually keep it off permanently unless there are more roles that need to be filled in a second round of acceptances. There aren’t really any questions that should need to be asked anonymously once you have a full roster of muns and this is a good way to get people used to asking you questions via discord, im, or dm. To prevent nasties from bullying you and to open the line of communication between you and your members, turn off anon!

And finally, once you have posted acceptances, close your laptop or turn off your monitor and don’t come back to it for at least an hour. I like to give myself two hours to go on a walk, eat some food, and just do non-rp things for a while. Acceptances are stressful and it’s important not to get swept up in it and feel overwhelmed. Taking a step back and remembering you exist outside of rp and outside of being an admin is so important. It’s hard to resist temptation, but if you have anon off really the only thing that’ll come into your inbox are follow messages and those can wait for two hours (or more)! But like I said above, keep everyone updated that you are going to log off for a bit and you’ll be back. Just so no one assumes the worst.

Just remember to be kind to your applicants and to yourself! It’s a stressful time for everyone!

#rpc #rpt #rph #how rigby runs a roleplay !#advice !#guide

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ghostmartyr · 3 years

Text

So if you, like me, have nothing to do but wonder about the state of my inbox, you might rightfully be wondering how I plan to deal with the obscene backlog I have spent so many years failing to deal with.

If you have never wondered that, fear not, that doesn’t exclude you from finding out.

Today we’re just going to go through my entire slew of unanswered asks, and instead of answering them, I am going to provide excuses for why I didn’t do anything with them.

For added fun, several of the asks were in my Drafts.

I will not be cutting out the comments I started to make.

I will no doubt regret this.

Let’s have a time, shall we?

I don’t even know what year this is from. If I remember correctly, I didn’t get back to you because I thought about trying to reason out who would legitimately win, and there were too many points for both sides. I kept intending to come up with a proper answer, then time went by and this got buried.

Though the actual answer is probably “it depends on who gets the main character sticker at the time.”

...

Well.

I can tell you this is multiple years old.

We, as humans, aren’t equipped for time travel.

I didn’t answer this one because I didn’t feel like it was asking for one, and I’m only reproducing it here because it is really, really funny now.

Two years old. Plus change.

I think the entire reason I never replied to this one is that it cheered me up whenever I scrolled down enough to see it, so thank you.

You know, I entered the link at the time. Really, I did. But then came trying to come up with a comment and what can you really follow that with?

(Click the link.)

Okay then.

I still feel no need to respond to this, so that’s probably why I didn’t to start with.

Historia and literally anyone.

I don’t remember why I didn’t answer this, which usually means some combination of feeling tired and not being in the mood to scroll down to where it was.

Oops.

The thing is, this crosses dangerously close to being a fic idea. Fic ideas take time and effort. You can imagine the absolute dread I felt at having to engage with either concept.

It would have been a lot of fun to do, though. Hats off.

See, again. This is a very interesting concept that requires thought. I can tell you when I received it I was in no mood for anything that required anything of the sort.

I wrote a fic that is possibly never going to see the light of day now where they hang out in a kitchen with hot chocolate together and bond through unstated trauma and Frieda attempting to make things better.

That probably contributed to interfering with imagining how they would actually get along.

Anyway, I ship them slightly in that fic AU. Don’t @ me.

Oh dang. I remember this.

I actually really wanted to answer it, but the problem is that I wanted to come up with a good answer. Every character, tiered by their chances. A full Hunger Games edition of what went down and who killed who.

Then I didn’t.

Anyway, turns out the answer is that no one feels the need to chop of rocking chairs in a hurry, so she’d last a long time!

I didn’t answer this because I try to avoid responding with, “I don’t know.” My secondary answer would probably have been, “By being killed.”

Not that there’s anything wrong with those answers, but unless there’s been a tonal trend in asks, I assume that pithy answers that don’t actually have any meat behind them would not be appreciated.

I would stick to him probably being killed, though. But some signs do point to him being relatively immortal.

Hm.

Hmm.

I don’t know why I didn’t answer this, but I would guess it had something to do with me caring very little about Ymir’s thoughts on anything outside of her little clutch of people. And ongoing trauma of repeated dead/alive Ymir commentary killing off my desire to come up with a good answer.

Sorry?

I... have no idea why I didn’t answer this? Maybe I didn’t see it?

Anyway, yes.

There’s a longer version behind that yes, and I’m sure that might have contributed to never getting around to answering this. ...Assuming a past where I did actually see this one.

I have a confession.

I don’t really like crossovers.

There’s a sliding scale of degree, but that’s basically why this didn’t get a response.

Ah, we’ve landed on a recurring theme.

Sometimes, answers involve me thinking about the entire cast.

The usual consequence of that is I don’t have the energy for that, so nothing ever happens with these.

Oh, this one’s easy.

I had no fucking clue.

No ideas, head empty.

That didn’t seem like a good answer, so here we are, probably around a year later. I still have no clue. If I were forced to write a singing duo AU, I would probably just put some adjectives and nouns into a blender and flip a coin.

Names are hard.

I think I didn’t answer this one because I felt like I’d answered similar asks before. And I’m not really sure when this is from, but it’s possible canon complicated coming up with an answer that wasn’t distressed screeching.

Something something give Connie and Mikasa hugs, not partial about where they get them from.

Apparently not. Oops.

I can’t remember why I didn’t respond to this one. It’s possible the oodles of bad parenting proved too distracting to formulate such a post.

Sometimes I get an ask, and my immediate, gut reaction is, how the fuck should I know?

If I can move past that, the ask is answered.

If I can’t, the ask continues its descent through scroll hell.

I am sorry. There are no answers here.

Yeah, this is just the same as the above, just with I have no idea.

It’d probably be a Madoka Magic deal.

Huh. I don’t remember passing this one over. If I were to guess a timeline, I was probably too bitter over potential post-timeskip looks that I never got to be interested in focusing on the characters lucky enough to get good ones.

Go Connie for being less short, I suppose.

This clearly belonged to something that I was doing, but time has eroded the context, so I am simply left with failure and disappointment on all sides. Sorry.

Aw, we’re getting into the boring part of the inbox now, I think. Not because of the questions; you guys are always great. But I can’t think of a reason why I wouldn’t have answered this, which leads me to think that the reason was I was too tired to put words together.

That’s a boring reason, so maybe I should go into Drafts for the next few...

Yeah, still unfairly prejudiced against crossovers. I am no fun, etc. etc.

I have no memory of it, but I feel like I didn’t answer this because there was no way I could match this kindly anon’s enthusiasm.

You go, random internet person.

You have good ideas.

Oh no.

Uh.

See.

I know exactly why I didn’t answer this one.

I am so sorry, Anon.

I really didn’t care.

I am filled with affection for you because you clearly do, but uh.

...I basically put this on Read.

This has a very simple, ie boring, explanation. Any time someone asks about the cast as a whole, I want to think about the cast as a whole, and that takes a lot more thought than most of the asks I get. Cue putting it off. Cue it getting lost in scroll hell. On and on we go until we end up here.

Anything that opens with kilometers is something that requires more brain power than I have had in the past year.

Also I think I got this during a spoiler week, so I saw it, but I was trying not to look at it, and then it got lost in the post-chapter asks.

That happens a lot.

We might see it more soon.

If I can’t come up with words more than “-shrug-” I try not to answer.

...Good news, though!

The manga did my job for me!

I feel like I answered some variation of this. That might be why I didn’t answer this specific one.

The wiki does a better job keeping track of the timeline than I ever have. I probably didn’t answer this because it would involve trying to remember which volume actually name-dropped a number of weeks or months. Searching for lines I know a character said is pretty easy, but searching out lines I have a vague feeling of someone providing? That tends to hit the frustration button with the force of a truck.

But yeah, if you ever want to know how long something took, the wiki is absolutely your friend. They do good work.

Consider: “What if” questions are hard, and I am lazy.

This is actually one I really did mean to get to, sorry. It’s an interesting thought, and I miss Sasha.

...I clearly did a magnificent job answering your asks, friend.

Prediction asks are hard for me; I feel like I’m throwing darts randomly into the air and the dartboard is still deciding if it’s going to show up. So uh. I guess I just kept putting this off until it didn’t get answered.

This post is going to have so many apologies. Implied and otherwise.

I continue to be the No Fun Police who accidentally-on-purpose avoids crossover commentary.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one entirely because seeing it in my inbox gave me far too much joy to have it lost in a sea of posts.

This is what my inbox was made for.

I have no idea when this was from, but I see your emotions and appreciate them, Anon.

...Did I not see this one?

Hey, Anon who probably doesn’t remember sending this: This is a good ask and deserved some good attention, and I’m sorry I missed my shot at it. Good thoughts.

I didn’t answer this one entirely because I knew I couldn’t match the energy of it, and responding with anything less felt heretical.

That is one hell of a mood, Anon.

This is definitely from the era of, “Can’t think, brain empty.” Sorry about not getting back to you, I just really couldn’t organize my thoughts well enough to come up with an answer.

I feel like I didn’t know what this was continuing from and was too exhausted to ask.

LOOK YOU CAN SEE I WANTED TO ANSWER THIS BECAUSE IT’S A DRAFT.

Too many things, Anon.

I liked so many things about all of that. Trying to turn that enthusiasm into words wasn’t agreeing with me, so I put it in Drafts and told myself one day I’d do the most awesome post detailing everything.

Intentions, huh?

Every time I tried to take a normal screenshot with formatting Tumblr just laughed at me, so that might have been a contributing factor.

Dang, I’m really sorry. This is another one of those cases where I wanted to take my time with a response, and I took too long.

I, uh.

Am guilty of not being too interested in pondering Ymir’s thoughts on Levi or Erwin.

That’s it, that’s the explanation.

Yeah, I just couldn’t come up with an answer here? Or someone else asked? Or several of my friends decided to be annoying about lists on Discord? I don’t even know.

Presumably there could be a list.

There is not.

Honestly, I just couldn’t figure out how to follow that starting sentence up. A thought exercise on Armin, Historia, gender, and themes sounded really interesting, and I put it in Drafts so as not to forget it being interesting.

Then, you know. This post sort of paints the picture.

Ah.

Man, I really was looking forward to putting some proper thought into this. That’s the problem with having so many things I love in one place, I guess. Symbolism? Historia and Ymir? Mikasa? So many good things! Where do I start!

With paralyzing indecision that results in not a lot. Sorry, Anon. This really did light up my day when I got it.

Here’s the thing about me and writing:

I often fail to.

(I love both these ideas, though.)

Yes.

Do I know why I didn’t get around to answering this?

Absolutely not.

But yes, I’d agree with that.

GOOD NEWS!

The manga actually gave us some of them together in the future.

I occasionally giggled over their shared distaste.

It was a good time.

And this is another one I just do not know why I didn’t answer, whoops.

This never got answered because I couldn’t come up with an answer.

Broad questions are scary because they can go just about anywhere and I didn’t know how to handle that level of commitment.

I think I didn’t answer this one, A), because words are hard, and B), because mostly I just wanted to listen to more of your wondering and less of mine.

I probably could have answered this by saying I don’t have any, but that seemed rude, so I didn’t respond to it at all.

Yep.

Frieda is worthy of my time and effort.

Landing this in Drafts instead of my inbox.

Where the lighting makes it more obvious that hope has gone there to die.

I think about it so much too.

I find the answers fundamentally upsetting.

That is probably why I did not provide an answer here.

That is a lot of kids to make up headcanons for.

So I didn’t.

She’s eaten by dogs before she develops a personality.

Since that seemed like the wrong thing to say, I said nothing, and into Drafts this went.

‘I have no earthly clue’ seemed similarly unhelpful.

At this point, we understand that there is no mystery to my backlog.

This one hurts.

-sees the 112 reference-

Wow does it hurt.

As I hope is obvious, I really, really loved this question, and kept meaning to carve out time to work on it specifically. What went sideways was trying to put words to how EMA functions. I knew the feel of what I wanted to express, but every time I tried to write it, it came out wonky.

I’m very sorry I couldn’t do anything for this, because I was thrilled to spend time with it.

I didn’t answer this because Fuck Marley.

It’s nothing against you. At the time, I simply wasn’t in any mood to consider any version of Marley. Even the canon version was too much for me, so giving it my time in a roleswap AU had me hissing.

Roleswaps in general are amazing, and I love them a lot. A dedicated person could make a fantastic one based around Marley and Paradis. I think it would probably be cool af.

But I was so tired of Marley when I got this, I just couldn’t make myself think about it. Sorry. It’s a fun idea.

I didn’t answer this one because I kept trying to extend my response past, “I think he just really likes baseball.”

I think he just really likes baseball.

My feelings on that as a quality answer are derogatory.

Mm. The ones where I actually tried to get something started hurts.

Ultimately, this ask was a larger demand than I could make my brain work through at the time. I made sure to write down the tl;dr version of Sasha’s, because I found that desperately important, and not something that people talk about much, but the additional weight of trying to think of themes for multiple characters made it hard to progress.

Me, looking at the prompts: Hi my brain left me.

Sorry, Anon. Too many gears were moving for me to get a proper feel for what I wanted to do with this one, so I ended up ditching it. ...I was planning to finish it, though. Eventually. See, I even put the quote in the Draft version as a reminder of what I was doing, so I could get back to it right away.

Yeeeeah, this is just one more to the “I will give this wonderful thing all the time it deserves!” pile.

The pile is stored in the Failure Corner.

Perfectionism is the enemy of progress.

You guys really like crossovers.

I love that for you.

-spends two years ignoring you-

I mean, I just didn’t know what to do with the rainbows.

They sure are there.

They sure are pretty.

I sure couldn’t come up with a comment to add.

...I don’t know why I didn’t answer this. Possibly because I think it’s fine? I’m not too attached to it, and spent the whole manga period wanting to watch an anime version instead, then we got an anime version.

I’d guess that my general “meh” feelings interfered with responding here.

No idea why I didn’t answer this.

Yes, and good for you.

I support all thoughts on giving the Reiss kiddos personalities.

I think I didn’t get back to you on this because I wasn’t sure how to encourage you to keep going so I just sat awkwardly on my hands and felt weird about not saying anything.

...Thanks for sharing!

I love how it’s the little things that date these.

Unfortunately, we’re now at the point where 90% of the reason I didn’t answer was because I was too sick to muster up anything approaching enthusiasm.

Or because I’d just finished answering a bunch of chapter-specific things and was burnt out.

This felt pretty self-explanatory to me, so I felt like that gave me permission to ignore it.

Also, it mentions Marley.

I might be slightly petty.

Really though, I think what stopped me from giving a proper answer is that the question of what an author is trying to say throws me off a little. I work better thinking of it in terms of what the story is saying, with the author just happening to be the hands that wrote it all down.

I don’t know. This was probably another case of feeling like I should give this more of my time than I was able.

I couldn’t decide.

That’s it.

That’s the reason.

Everyone needs to give Mikasa a hug.

My blog title for a hug.

-the crossover snake hisses and consumes another-

I am so sorry.

This is fun.

I probably should have just gone with posting and saying so, because I am genuinely charmed by this. I tend to feel like I have to add something to asks to justify the post. That policy maybe didn’t need to be a thing.

I love my anons.

I want that to be clear.

Really, I do.

I especially love their willingness to embrace my crackpot logic.

Still.

Sometimes, the only response one can have to Schrodinger’s Ymir is to ignore its existence, find a pillow, and scream into it for the rest of time.

This replaces typing.

-looks at Armin-

-looks at Eren-

Yeah, don’t know why I didn’t answer this one, either. I blame tiredness? Sorry about that.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one because it felt like work.

This is where I start considering that making this post was a mistake.

I could have just agreed with you and gone about my day.

Probably should have.

Did not.

Another one for that, “had nothing to add so I just left it in a corner, abandoned and unloved,” pile.

There is an apology section at the end, but we’re not there yet.

This one I don’t think I noticed.

Alternatively, I did notice, and wasn’t sure “Yes,” would pass as a good enough answer.

--------------------------------------

Okay, time to really just get into it: I think for the remainder of my inbox, I didn’t answer because physically, I was just too damn exhausted, and I kept waiting for a point in time where I’d feel better. Sorry to put a limit on the personalization, but in the end, that’s all there was to it, and rephrasing it a dozen times will make me crazy.

And here we are.

Well.

Good grief, do you guys even have any clue how much I like all of you?

Obviously there’s a lot of guilt in the above, because I can’t tell you how much I wanted, each time, to give a great answer that would make you thrilled you messaged me. I am so sorry to all of these I didn’t get to. There were days when the alerts in my inbox were the best thing to happen to me, and I never wanted to let any of them go without acknowledgment.

I try to say thank you as often as I can in my responses, because that’s as close as I can get to reminding you all, constantly, that I am grateful for your participation. The only times I don’t say it is when I worry that it’ll look like it’s being done out of habit, not genuine gratitude. Or when I think you might take it the wrong way if I say thanks for a basic conversation. Because you provide me content and make me interested in things I might not normally look twice at.

There are so many instances of people saying hi, and thank you, and wishing everyone well here.

I haven’t been active in the larger fandom in two years, but I have always been so happy that you guys kept dropping by my space anyway.

You are a pleasure and light in my life, no matter how much snark I might throw about.

Thank you all.

#attack on asks #tl;dr #long post

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quilloftheclouds · 4 years

Text

Hey folks! Update time~

Quill’s been pretty behind with activity on writeblr lately. I have a few ideas to get back into it now, so here’s just a heads up of what to look forward to! (This also serves as a checklist for myself, because I have both a terrible memory and a terrible self-motivation. ^^’)

The one-year anniversary of this blog is on the 28th of February!! Coming up real fast, yeah? I plan to combine this with my 4k followers celebration below~

I’ve just recently hit 4k followers! Holy stars. I have a plan for a big celebration (and I’m pretty sure it’s one I can actually complete... ^^’), though I haven’t quite worked out all the details yet. I’ll try and get this up by the 28th!

I’m in the last chapter of the first draft of One Siren’s Soul! It’s uh. It’s been stuck there for awhile yeah. But. I’m actually writing again. Hopefully, this continues. (I also rewrote the beginning.)

I’m going to be re-organizing my writeblr soon! I’m thinking I’ll be changing the theme again, updating the wip page and directory for One Siren’s Soul, changing a bit about my tagging system, and making a nice and neat navigation page!

Depending on how busy I am in the upcoming weeks, maybe expect some neato worldbuilding and character posts for OSS!

I’m considering making a patreon. Dunno yet. I’ll make a post soon to gauge interest, with examples of what you could find there.

I’m thinking I’m going to post at least a weekly update on my aquarium adventures! If you didn’t know, I currently have a betta, a nerite and (now 2) african dwarf frogs! Possibly these updates will include neat tidbits about the animals and their natural habitats, possibly pictures and possibly videos! I may end up making a side blog for this if there’s enough interest. c:

There’s going to be some changes to how I reblog and comment on original writeblr content from now on. Details below~

Continued from number 6: I’ve found myself dwindling in the reblog department of my blog. I think this is partially due to my social anxiety and perhaps also because I’m just plain lacking the energy, but I’m definitely nowhere near the amount of other writeblr’s content that was originally found on this blog.

In an attempt to counteract that: I’m going to try and reblog pretty much everything I see and like! HOWEVER. I will NOT be leaving comments on everything, as I used to. I’ll only be doing that if I really enjoyed the piece in particular AND if I have enough energy at that time. You’ll likely still find little comments left in the tags from me, though!

Some other things to be aware of!

I’m not currently participating in tag games! It’s completely fine if you tag me, there’s no need to apologize. This is just an explanation for why I don’t respond to any of the ones I’m tagged in. ^^

My participating in STS will be... probably infrequent. Every time I participate I get more than 20 asks that day (usually 30+). I’m sorry, but sometimes I’m just so darn busy that I can’t reply to all of those, and it makes me feel really guilty to just leave them lying forgotten in my inbox! This is... actually about the same with any ask games I reblog, so please don’t feel bad if I don’t get around to an ask you send in! I just have. So many. ^^’ (But I still really like reblogging ask games. It’s bad, I know.)

Anyways!

Thank you for reading, and I hope all of you have a lovely day~ 💖

#announcement #update #blog update #Quill's ranting #love y'all lovelies #thanks for sticking with me through my nonsense <3 #lookit this big chonk of text #oof #text post #long post

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angeltiddies · 5 years

Note

Prompt: For Dean's birthday, Cas Googles "presents for loved ones" and inadvertently follows recommendations for romantic gifts.

Shit. Okay. Hi anon, i forgot how to see inbox notifs and have no clue if u sent this during my drunk promt ask or sober prompt ask but will fill now.

Alright nvm ^^^ that didn’t happen.

I lost this prompt for days after I got drunk and I couldn’t find it in my drafts and alas, finally. Anyways, this was written fully sober, lmao.

Just a Little Bit of Your Heart, 2.2k,

fluff, light angst, post s14. (ao3 link if u want)

It’s January 20th, 4 days out from Dean’s 40th birthday and he still has yet to decide on a gift. It’s his first time, really, buying Dean a birthday gift. Sure, there had been the pack of funny socks he had snagged in passing from the check out at a Gas-N-Sip, but there hadn’t been any thought behind that, no planning, nothing that Castiel thought constituted the socks as a gift. Not really.

Not only that, but there had never really been occasion to purchase a gift for Dean until now. Sam and Castiel had decided that, with the world coming to an end and all, Dean finally deserved a proper birthday party. In years past, he had either insisted on drowning out his birthday’s with booze or insisted on ‘no gifts.’

Castiel isn’t sure why, maybe because the eldest Winchester brother would only feel more indebted to the others around him, or perhaps because he simply didn’t like gifts. Either way, that’s why it became his mission to get the perfect gift for Dean. Something that isn’t a curse, but a comfort.

The time after Mary and Jack had passed away and Chuck opened the gates of hell had been rough for Dean and him. Sam had kept a protective arm’s length between Castiel and Dean, insisting Dean needed time. It hurt to feel their bond being stretched thin as he’d watch Dean across the bunker from the corner of his eye, careful not to step into his space. Castiel had decided to stay in the bunker despite the tension though, Sam insisting they needed all hands on deck as they began on the long road to killing God.

Still, despite their close proximity, and the time they’ve had to heal, he can’t help but feel further from Dean.

Cas remembers when Sam told a story of the time he gave Dean a chocolate bar and some motor oil for Christmas. Apparently, Dean had lit up at the sentiment, but Castiel can’t handle settling for something like that.

Dean deserves something special.

Castiel begins his search on Google using the simplest, most “Dean” search terms he can think of.

Men’s flannels

Not special enough

Classic records

Maybe some time, but still, not good enough.

A new pair of boots

Shoes are always too risky.

Cowboy costume

Halloween maybe, but not for this.

Guns

Dean already has one he trusts.

It’s been nearly two hours browsing Google and Amazon before Castiel has to take a break and let his head loll back with a sigh.

After stretching a bit and standing up to pace the length of the bunker, he finally settles on a Google search that he’s sure will bear fruit.

Gifts to show you care for someone.

Castiel takes his time clicking through the links and scrolling through many of the lists. He nearly gives up when finally, an article entitled, “Gifts to Connect You to the Person You Care About” catches his eye.

Cas smiles at the headline and clicks through the list, cataloging the possibilities away in his mind.

However, all those possible gifts dissipate from his mind as soon as he sees it. It’s perfect, and they have some in stock at the Bed Bath & Beyond an hour and a half away in Nebraska. With that, Cas calls a “Be back later!” into the seemingly empty bunker and heads out to fetch Dean’s gift.

When he finally arrives at the store, he makes his way inside and heads to the sleep section, his eyes lighting up when he sees what he’s looking for on the shelf below a big “As Seen On TV” sticker.

Next to the sticker it reads: “Bed Beats”

Bed Beats are a pair of wristbands and compact speakers that are connected via wifi anywhere in the world. Just slip the wristband on, place the disc speaker underneath your pillow and send a request to your partner through the app. When they slip on their own wristband, the device will relay their heartbeat to your speaker and vice versa. Never feel disconnected again.

Castiel grins, giddy, and picks up the first box on the shelf. It’s exactly what he and Dean need. It’s the perfect way for Cas to watch over Dean without invading his space. It’s anatomical communication without speech. Cas will know when Dean needs help as his heartbeat speeds up, he’ll know when he’s at peace, he’ll know he’s alive.

He also blinks at the bursting yellow sticker that sits on the top left corner of the box that exclaims, “Great for Long Distance Couples!”

They may not be a couple, but with the way that their souls and relationship has grown distant, Castiel decides that’s enough to classify them as ‘long distance.’

As he waits in the line to check out, Cas also grabs a simple card and a tube of discounted, red wrapping paper left over from the holiday season.

When he gets back to his car, he decides it’s best to get everything in order before presenting the gift to Dean. When he finally gets into the heavily taped box, he pulls out one set of the wristband/speaker combos and sets it aside for himself.

Before shrouding the other set in the metallic, red of post-Christmas, 99¢ wrapping paper, he syncs the devices and downloads the app to avoid the hassle of setting it up later.

Then, he writes, with his thigh as a sort of table, in the card with an old pen he found in the console of his truck.

I’m including the instruction booklet in this card (please don’t read until after you open the gift!)

Dean,

I know I’ve made so many mistakes lately, and that perhaps we do not see eye to eye on everything any longer, but this is a chance to connect without having to agree. Just to sleep and not be so alone.

Happy Birthday. I hope you like it.

Yours, Castiel

However, he scribbles out the ‘yours’ as it feels out of place in this letter. With that, he seals the card, and the instructions, into a white envelope with Dean’s name in angelic script printed on the front.

The drive home is pleasant and he can’t help but feel butterflies for the moment he gets to present it to his charge.

The next days pass silently, Castiel with his gift for Dean hidden in his own closet and nearly forgotten amid all the preparations for the party.

Sam was in charge of inviting people and Dean had insisted on being in charge of food and drinks. On the day of the party, Castiel sits off to the side as many of the guests enter, most are hunters he’s never met before, and he can’t help but feel like an outsider as the day of barbequing and reminiscing devolves into pie and drunkenness by nightfall.

He’s glad to see Jody and Claire, but even then, their conversations are stilted, both of them want to speak primarily to Dean, the ‘birthday boy’, while Cas isn’t allowed that luxury.

He sits away from Dean all night, only making contact to say “Happy Birthday, Dean” after he blows out the ‘4’ and ‘0’ candles that someone stuck straight through the latticework on a sweet, cherry pie. Cas smiles as Claire goes up and whispers something to Dean that makes him throw his head back in laughter and begin a lively conversation with her.

That’s when he realizes he’s on the outside looking in.

From where he stands, nursing a finger of whiskey, he can see Alex and Garth discussing the medical anomalies of Lycanthropes, Sam, apocalypse-world-Bobby, Donna and Jody playing some sort of cards-and-drinking game, a few people he doesn’t know attempting beer pong in the war room and even a pair of local hunters musing over the library’s expansive collection.

He’s an outsider like he’s always been with the Winchesters. When he’s not of use, he feels unwelcome. He knows there’s never any ill intent, but even now, when he doesn’t even need his angel mojo, he still doesn’t quite fit. He doesn’t understand half of the banter thrown around the room, he can’t get drunk unless he drinks the entirety of the Men of Letters scotch collection, and he can’t interact with the guests without Dean coming up.

At this, loneliness overtaking him, he decides to retreat to his room to wait the party out.

He sends a nod and a tip of his glass to Sam before motioning that he’s leaving, Sam acknowledges him with a grin, drunk on whiskey and the excitement of the party, and Cas slips out of sight.

Before letting himself rest, he sneaks into Dean’s room to place the card and the gift on his bed.

He decides it’s best that way.

–

Castiel keeps his personal speaker and wristband close to him, beside his phone on his nightstand, hoping that some night it will be of use. He feels the uncertainty drift in and out as each night passes without so much as an acknowledgment of the gift.

A week passes before anything happens. It’s 3 am when Castiel’s ears pick up on the small ‘ding’ that pops out of his phone speakers.

He rolls over and grabs his phone. On the screen sits a notification.

Bed Beats

Dean would like to share his heartbeat. Accept?

Castiel grins into the dark and arranges the speaker underneath his pillow before securing the soft band around his wrist at his pulse point.

With a tentative thumb, he swipes to accept and lays his right ear down onto his pillow to hear Dean. He can hear his heart beating quickly, possibly a nightmare, Cas thinks, and wills his own jittery heart to slow. He has to be the grounding one for Dean, has to be a comfort.

His own heart beats deep like a drum, and soon he can hear Dean’s heart rate slowing to match his own. Soon, they’re in perfect sync with one another. He feels closer to Dean than he has in months and hopes Dean feels the same.

He listens as his charge’s heart rate begins to slow even more, to around 75 beats per minute, he notes, and assumes he’s slipping into sleep.

Castiel, usually one for wandering the bunker after the brothers are asleep, doesn’t dare lift his head from his pillow until Dean ends the connection come morning light.

It continues like this for many weeks, Dean requesting Castiel’s heartbeat in the wee morning hours, disconnecting at sunrise, and going about the days as if nothing has changed.

Nothing’s really changed during the day. They continue to keep their distance. Dean thanks him for making the coffee one Sunday morning and Sam tells Cas, “See, space is all you needed,” his eyes sincere, “It’s healing.” But Sam doesn’t know the reason the healing process has begun to speed up. Cas can tell Dean hasn’t told his brother of the gift, and he prefers it that way. It’s the first thing between them that Sam isn’t clued into since before Mary’s passing. That alone brings him peace.

It’s a Tuesday in early March when everything shifts. Cas is lying on his back in his bed, nerves nearly taking him. Dean almost always pings by 3 am, and now it’s 45 minutes past and he’s trying to keep calm.

A sound makes Castiel’s ears prick up, but this time it’s not a sharp ‘ding,’ it’s the soft sound of knuckles rapping on his door.

Cas, beneath the covers in his most comfortable shirt, one Dean loaned him for the brief period he was human, props himself up on one elbow and quirks his head as the door opens softly, revealing Dean in his doorway.

He’s in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with holes around the seams, and a pair of black briefs, and the “Send Noods” socks Castiel bought him.

“Dean?”

“Hey, Cas” Dean whispers into the darkness as he steps into the room, shutting the door behind him with care.

Words die on Castiel’s lips and his breath hitches as Dean pads, soft and calm, to his bedside.

He lifts the corner of Castiel’s blankets ever so slightly and looks down into the glint of Castiel’s blue eyes as if asking permission. Castiel gives him a slight nod and holds his breath as Dean lifts the covers further and slips in under them. He positions himself with his head resting on the left side of Castiel’s chest, ear right above his heart and arm draped across him, hand gently thumbing at the soft fabric on Castiel’s right shoulder.

Castiel can feel his own heart rate pick up, it’s swift and uncontrollable and it’s filling his vessel up to the brim with hard thumps. He’s beginning to wonder if he’ll ever breathe again when a low thud overcomes his near panic.

As bright as a bell in a void, he hears it, Dean’s heartbeat, drumming from the deep. This time it’s his charge’s heart that’s strong and steadfast and convinces Castiel’s own to join it in slow synchronization.

Castiel takes in a breath and slows his own heart rate. He sees Dean’s eyelids flutter shut and he lets his chin rest in the soft of Dean’s hair, his left hand rubbing slow circles into his back.

“I missed you.”

Dean doesn’t speak, but Castiel can feel the whisper of a smile move on his chest.

As he lets himself drift into peace, thoughts blink in his mind at the pace of his heart.

I fit here. Dean fits here. This is my family. This is who I love. This is home.

____

(Gift based on this!!!)

#deancas #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel ficlet #destiel drabble #angel !!#king !!#prompt fill #asks #johnlockshire #anon #Johnlockshire replies #s14 spoilers #spn s14 spoilers #my fics

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drawlfoy · 5 years

Text

Faux Diplomacy p.1

pairing: draco x femilvermornymugglebornslytherin(a mouthful i know)!reader

request: no, i’ve just always wanted to write this

warnings: explicit language, mentions of drinking, and most importantly, the reader has a moment where she thinks of inducing vomiting (not for a disorder but for a reason totally unrelated). if you’re sensitive to that then i suggest maybe skipping the part where she describes the slytherin boy dormitories. also, drink “spiking” (not date rape drugs though, just veritaserum)

summary: ilvermorny exchange fic during 6th year. reader is sorted into slytherin along with nearly all of the other exchange students. they realize they may be there for another reason than just for diplomacy when they discover that all of them are muggleborn. slow burn for draco...you’re supposed to hate him in the beginning.

a/n: i drafted this in the very beginning of summer without the intent of showing it to anyone, so this is a pretty large step in my writing journey. feel free to share your thoughts and feedback in the replies, i’m always here to hear them! more requests are coming soon and i’ll try and whip out another original idea once i slough through the requests i have right now. also: the best friend and the reader are going to be very affectionate, and i apologize if that’s not your thing. it’s just how i interact with my friends and i like to insert my favorite people in my stories, even when it isn’t very smooth. also if you’re wondering why i have so many fics based in 6th year it’s because i always found that to be the hottest year for draco lmao

music recs: i listened to a lot of lorde when i wrote this for some reason. i couldn’t tell you why but i did lol

word count: 2,038

“This is ridiculous.”

“What?”

I turned around to look at my roommate and best friend, Bella, who was sitting sprawled out on my bed and repeated the sentiment.

“This is ridiculous. My application status is still ‘review’, and everyone else already got their acceptance letter. Do you think it means they’re trying to find a nice way to reject me?”

Bella rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Jesus Christ Y/N, with your grades and qualifications, they’d be a fool to not let you go. I got in. Hell, even Peter got in!”

Her comment made me crack a smile. Peter was in our year, sure, but a whole idiot. He was probably the lowest ranked person in Y/I/H. His parents were super loaded, though.

“Plus,” Bella added, “Hogwarts doesn’t have much experience with muggle electronics. I hear they switched to electric acceptances for foreign matters for efficiency purposes since they were so sick of losing owls over the Atlantic. They’re a bunch of old geezers that might still be looking for the send button on your acceptance email.”

“Wait.” Y/N froze as she saw something pop up in her inbox from Hogwarts’ administration. “I think they sent me something.”

Suddenly, the hot August air was more stifling than ever. Y/N had an urge to get up and open her window, but she couldn’t leave her laptop. Her eyes were glued to the email.

“You gonna open it, or...”

“YES! Fine, I’ll do it.” Y/N’s hand clicked on the email and hid her face. Bella’s hands began prying her fingers away from her face.

“You’ve gotta see it, Y/N. You’ve gotta look!”

Y/N allowed her hands to drop, peering at the screen in front of her.

No way. No way.

It took her a minute to actually comprehend the words “Congratulations!” on the screen, but once she did, her entire body began vibrating with electricity.

“Oh my GOD!”

“We’re going to Hogwarts together!” Bella shrieked, jumping off Y/N’s bed and grabbing her. The two girls clung to each other while Bella spun them in circles until they fell on the bed with dizziness.

After the Hogwarts acceptance letter, Ilvermorny reached out to the students as well to detail their departure. The 16 students selected--a rather odd number, Y/N thought--were to meet on the Ilvermorny grounds at 6am on September 1st. Dumbledore himself had prepared 4 portkeys for the students and expected them to teleport to Hogwarts using them.

As far as Y/N was concerned, this day couldn’t come soon enough. It was time for her to get away from the loudness of America.

♥♥♥♥

The first thing Y/N saw was a very old witch standing in front of her small group of peers. She was wearing a traditional witch hat, something no one ever did back in America.

“Welcome, students.” Y/N was taken aback by just how delicate her voice was. She always forgot how diverse accents were in Europe. “I am Professor McGonagall. We are so pleased to have you joining us for this school year.”

The elegant old lady fiddled with her eyeglasses before she continued.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it appears as though there won’t be enough time to sort each and every one of you. We do have a rather large group of first years and would prefer to keep things moving along.”

Everyone groaned in unison. Who did this lady think she was, taking away their chances at being sorted by the infamous Sorting Hat?

“Thankfully,” she continued, “The head of the Slytherin house, Professor Snape, was gracious enough to take all of you in. It appears as though there are exactly 16 open beds in their dorm, so it works famously. I expect you all to behave yourselves and represent your country well so that we’ll consider taking exchange students next year. We have no qualms with sending students home who don’t follow the rules.”

Everyone nodded, nervously glancing around the group. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if people were going to be sent home, or if that was simply an empty threat.

“Well, come along then!”

McGonagall ushered the nervous group of witches and wizards across the courtyard and into a giant dining hall, much larger than the one Ilvermorny boasted.

As the students entered, the soft chatter that had filled the room faded away as the Hogwarts students examined the newcomers. Whispers replaced the chatter once they saw a magical display above them unfurl an american flag.

So much for getting away from that obnoxious American stereotype Y/N thought bitterly. What’s next, magical reenactments of the Vietnam War?

“Students,” McGonagall called. “Sit at the Slytherin table.”

A long but well kept fingernail motioned to the long table on the right side, filled with students wearing green.

“Good thing green looks great on both of us!” Bella whispered into Y/N’s ear. She giggled.

“Yellow and red wash me out. We got lucky.”

Unfortunately for the girls, everyone else had gotten to the table first, leaving only two open seats open. When they saw who was across from them, they began to understand why they were the least desirable seats.

One platinum haired boy and a dark haired girl occupied the seats, both wearing disgusted looks.

“Hello, I’m-” Y/N’s timid attempt at an introduction was cut short when the dark haired girl cut in.

“We know why you’re here.”

“Excuse me?” Bella looked ready to kill.

“She said,” the blond boy met Y/N’s eyes, “We know why you’re here.”

“Uh...yeah, the weather’s great this time of year.” Y/N tried to push for a laugh, but clearly it wasn’t coming.

“No, you idiot.” The girl raised one eyebrow. “Do you not know?”

“Well, whatever you think you know wasn’t deemed important enough to mention to US, so fuck off,” Bella answered.

“Jesus, Bella, we can at least be nice,” Y/N interjected. “Can you tell us? We probably already know, but sti-”

“No.” The blond boy looked slightly amused at our curiosity. “You’re right. It’s so important that of course you would know. Pansy and I are just playing with you. That’s all you mudbloods are good for, anyways.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. Blood purity discrimination? That shit was outlawed years ago in the US. If anyone even mentioned the term “muggleborn” in a less than positive light, they were blacklisted.

“What did you just call us?”

“Perhaps you need to get your ears checked,” the girl shot back. “You heard him.”

Y/N sucked in a breath. She’d woken up at 5 for this.

“So tell me, Pansy.” Y/N leaned over the table. “Was it an accident? Or were you just born with a pug face?”

The girl turned bright red but maintained her composure.

“I’m sick of talking to you,” she finally said.

♥♥♥♥

“Oh, bitch, you got her!” Bella was cackling to Y/N in the privacy of her dorm room. “You were like, ‘do tell me’, and the second those words left your lips, I was like, oh no, here it comes...”

They both ugly laughed on the bed together until their sides hurt.

“Blondie was kind of hot though,” Y/N admitted.

“Kind of. I guess, if you’re into racists.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not.” Y/N chucked a pillow at Bella/s head, just narrowly missing it and instead hitting her suitcase.

A knock on their door sounded, stopping their shenanigans. Bella crept up to open it and saw Laurel, another girl from their year, with a few other kids.

“The Slytherins are throwing a welcome party for us in the common room,” Lucy informed them. “The nice ones are, at least.”

“There’s nice Slytherins?” Bella asked sarcastically. “Whatever. We’re in. Give us a minute to get dressed.”

Lucy nodded, shutting the door. Y/N could hear their footsteps walk away from their room.

The two rushed to get out of the sad looking sweats they were planning to sleep in, Y/N opting for a skirt and a short sleeved shirt. She’d always been a fan of old-fashioned plaid.

♥♥♥♥

Y/N did not get drunk. It was the unspoken rule between her and Bella: one of them drinks, the other one sips and plays the mom friend. Y/N was always the mom, something she didn’t mind that much, but at the welcome party, she indulged in two cups of firewhiskey. She held her liquor well anyways, and it wasn’t like anyone had to drive.

A few hours had gone by when a Slytherin girl who introduced herself as Daphne Greengrass stood on a table and yelled, “Everyone, quiet!”

The music quieted a little and the chatter erased itself as the room waited on her words.

“In Slytherin tradition,” the Greengrass girl said, “We’re going to play a game of Truth or Dare. The Firewhiskey has been laced with Veritaserum, so if you’re choosing truth, beware! We’re playing around this table!”

With that, Daphne stepped down and all the Ilvermorny students stood frozen. Y/N couldn’t believe that the Slytherins spiked their drinks. She also couldn’t believe the fact that she accepted drinks from people she didn’t know, violating every bit of party safety rules her father had taught he. He’d be so disappointed.

Against her better judgement, Y/N allowed herself to be pulled to the table by a very intoxicated but very cheerful Bella. She managed a smile--she loved drunk Bella almost more than she loved normal Bella. She’d always heard that people became their true selves when they drank. If that was the case, Bella was the sunniest person to walk the earth.

Unfortunately for Y/N, she was sitting next to Daphne, who announced that the person to the right of her would spin the bottle to see who the question poser would be. That was Y/N.

She sighed, already deciding on asking for a dare. She wasn’t holding back any secrets, but she didn’t want to answer anything with a dumb or embarrassing detail of her life.Y/N spun the bottle, praying for it to land on Bella.

Nope.

When it stopped, she looked up to meet the eyes of the girl she insulted in the Dining Hall: Pansy.

“Well,” she drawled, a smirk forming on her face,”Truth? Or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Hm.”

Y/N could nearly see the gears in her head turning to find the cruelest dare she could. Finally, her eyes light up and her smirk deepened.

“You know who I don’t see here?”

“Who?”

“Draco,” she responded. Y/N noticed Daphne grimace next to her. “Go wake him up and get him to come out. Of course, he probably won’t come out. But you have to at least make a valiant effort.”

“Ok.” Y/N gulped. “Where is he?”

“I’m going to assume his room.” The Slytherins surrounding her chuckled. “But if you want specifics: last door on the right of the boy’s dormitories. Zabini will let you in. You can go now.”

Y/N stumbled off with the boy she assumed was Zabini. He opened the door for her, whispering the password under his breath and looking almost sorry for her. “Good luck.”

♥♥♥♥

The dormitories were exponentially cooler than the common room, and Y/N felt herself shiver at the sensation of the air on her bare skin. The stone walls and flooring made her feel as though she was in a dungeon, something she found to be an interesting choice for a house with so many wealthy students.

Y/N slowly crept towards the furthest door on the right, pondering her options. She could, of course, just come back and lie, saying he didn’t answer. Then she remembered the Veritaserum in her drink. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could get herself to throw it up, but her logical mind struck that idea down. The alcohol was already absorbed and she would have to explain to everyone why there was a pool of bile outside the door she was tasked to knock on.

There was something else that was nagging at her, though, a morbid curiosity regarding what someone like him could be bothering himself with on a Friday night. If he wasn’t partying, was he sleeping?

It simply didn’t add up.

Y/N knew what she had to do. She raised her hand to knock on the door.

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talesfromthefade · 5 years

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Author Ask Meme

tagged by @apostatetabris

Author Name: @honestly-wilde (formerly 4vraFangirl) / @talesfromthefade

Fandoms You Write For: Oh goodness, so many. Let’s see... Kingsman, Turn: Washington’s Spies, Pacific Rim, Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Once Upon a Time, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Marvel Cinematic Universe, Bioshock, Sherlock BBC, Yuri!!! on Ice, Detroit: Become Human, His Dark Materials, Good Omens, SyFy’s Tin Man, SyFy’s Alice, X-Files, Lie to Me, Harry Potter... I’m sure there are more I’m forgetting or some I’m still working on polishing up before I feel comfortable enough sharing/publishing them.

Where You Post: Tumblr, Ao3 (although I haven’t put anything new up there in a while, hopefully soon.)

Most Popular One-Shot: Smut. It would be smut. XD “Any Excuse Will Do” with Eggsy Unwin x Harry Hart from the Kingsman fandom. Sometimes I think I’ve gotten a lot better at writing smut, but seeing this one is still my most popular, I’m not so sure... maybe it’s just that this fic has been up longer than some of my other attempts at it.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: “Colors Seem to Fade” Whew. So relieved and thrilled that my most popular multi-chapter is a finished one. I always hope to go back to some of the unfinished ones, but some of them have been neglected for quite some time now, much to my frustration and shame. This was actually my first multi-chapter I shared on ao3, written for Hartwin Week 2015.

Favorite Story You Wrote: I don’t know that I could pick a single favorite. I have little bits and pieces, lines, descriptions, etc that I might love from each, but on the whole, I would have a hard time picking any one out that I was entirely satisfied with or didn’t feel I could go back and somehow make better. It’s kind of a miracle that I’ve let go enough to share any of my work, it’s often a matter of forcing myself to. I love to write, but opening it up to possible criticism is absolutely nerve-wracking.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: All of them? See above. I suppose this would go double for those where there is a character in the story I especially relate to, or where I’ve filled in some of the gaps of their characterization with elements of myself. Writing is a fantastic means of therapy for exploring yourself, but making it that intensely personal, even if the reader can’t possibly know when and where you’ve done that makes it difficult to share sometimes. And I suppose, I’m always a bit nervous about the stories I write for the smaller fandoms or rarepairs that they’ll be seen as silly or a waste of time to write because they don’t have the same following as the bigger ones, though, speaking as an enthusiastic rarepair shipper and reader, that could just be paranoia on my part.

How Do You Choose Your Titles: I title everything when I am initially writing it “NOT YET TITLED” just to annoy myself into coming up with something better. Sometimes if I can’t come up with anything else I will use a poem or song lyric. It just depends.

Do You Outline: For any of my longer and multi-chapter fics, I find it’s an absolute necessity to help me organize my thoughts. That said, I have nearly as many drafts of outlines as I do drafts of the actual story if it’s one I’m pretty invested in, since I prefer to have the characters drive the story so I may find something I had planned doesn’t work so well as I thought or there’s something that would fit their characterization better.

Coming Soon Eventually: As far as fanfiction goes, I am currently working hard on finishing up a lengthy one-shot for “Good Omens” (Aziraphale x Crowley), and another for “Detroit: Become Human” (Connor RK800 x Hank Anderson), as well as chipping away at prompts from/for the @dadrunkwriting group. I’m still in the drafting stage, but also working on an original work I hope to share more about once I finish the full first draft.

Do You Accept Prompts: Always! Some of the fics that have taken me most by surprise and proved my favorites have been sparked by a prompt/request that someone sent me. I love getting prompts. <3 Feel free to spam my inbox anytime!

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: I’m excited about most stories I work on, otherwise, I don’t write them. Not to say there aren’t moments/scenes, etc where it can get a bit nerve-wracking wondering if I’m doing it all right or it’ll turn out the way I want, but I write because I love writing, if I don’t I’m doing something wrong.

#about the writer

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blackaquokat · 5 years

Text

Bruised Hearts

Fandom: WKM

Pairing: DAtective (Abe x Y/N District Attorney)

Summary: In which an innocent outing turns into a fist fight and the fall out leads to an unexpected consequence.

(Or, alternatively, the author attempts to write in another character with mixed results.)

A/N: Hey guess what? I didn’t forget about this, but I had three different drafts and hated each of them until I finally powered through this one. I ended up going with suggestions by @beereblogsstuff , @dontworryaboutanything , and @skidspace but I did love ALL the suggestions in my inbox, so I will be tackling them at later dates. Something to note: this won’t be canon in Law & Disorder. Instead, this will be part of a different one which will be more in line with the canon suggested in Wilford Motherloving Warfstache. Take from that what you will.

(Spot the Ocean’s 11 Reference in this piece.)

Now, without further ado, here is the DAtective Installment of my 200 Follower Celebration works!

Oo00oO

“This is taking some getting used to…” his partner comments as they adjust their new glasses.

“I thought you had glasses when you were a DA?”

Abe thinks they look rather scholarly with the thick black rims framing their eyes. It’s still a bit of a shock to see his partner in modern-day wear, but…not an unpleasant shock.

Or at least it’s unpleasant in the way that a modern-clothed District Attorney sends his heart into sporadic beats of Morse code.

“I only needed them for driving before,” they answer, oblivious to the heat rushing into his neck. “Or for going to the theater. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that death impaired my vision…”

Abe shouldn’t laugh, but he does. He also shouldn’t have this urge to grab their glasses and try them on himself, but that’s another problem entirely.

He half-heartedly protests when they drag him out of the biting cold air and into the nearest pub. “What’s going on here?”

“If I have to wear glasses on a regular basis now, then we’re damn well going to mark the start of this hell-fest with a drink.”

And they call him overdramatic.

(One time Abe announces a zombie apocalypse when a dead body twitched in front of him and suddenly he’s overdramatic. At least Wilford didn’t judge him, though he could have done without the gun waving at the time.)

While he’s on that line of thought…

“Shouldn’t we make sure Wilford hasn’t burned the apartment down?”

“It’ll be good to leave him alone a little longer, show him some responsibility, if he’s even at the apartment right now. Shot of whiskey, please,” they order from the bartender.

He orders a beer as his partner’s whiskey is placed in front of them. They banter back and forth, discuss the growing pile of cases waiting for them at home, and overall just…exist.

Together.

Even after a year since his partner’s unexpected return, and a little longer since Wilford destroyed his preconceptions of this nonsensical world they’re all trapped in, Abe still expects to wake up to an empty apartment. He still finds himself staring at his partner while they curse at the coffee pot, or when they sing whatever modern song they most recently discovered (lately it’s been an odd roulette of Beyoncé and some European metal group). Sometimes he’ll do something obnoxious like tug on the sleeves of their sweaters or ruffle their hair to get a rise out of them (which usually involves a hand-swat or a not-so-gentle elbow to his gut) to keep himself tethered to their presence.

(These moments tend to be hijacked by a randomly appearing Wilford, who either says something off the wall or does something rather insane to derail these moments. Abe only puts up with this since he wouldn’t have found the DA again if not for the psycho. He still questions as to when the term “psycho” became a term of endearment.)

He restrains himself from these actions now, since he’s already hyper-aware of how close they’re both standing next to each other at the bar, their glasses reflecting the hanging television screens and highlighting the liquid penny color in their eyes. Long before his partner lost their body and soul at the manor they looked like they’d witnessed eternity and scoffed at its depths, now they’re just tinged with an even darker awareness.

That eternity-tinged gaze is directed over his shoulder, narrowed in suspicion. “Can we help you?”

Abe turns to see three guys standing behind him. The one in the center has bloodshot eyes and keeps swaying from side to side.

(What kind of jackass gets flat-out drunk at eleven in the morning?)

“Hey, asshole, you’re in my seat,” the guy says without preamble. The two behind him do not look like they’re about to discourage him.

Abe chugs the last sip of his beer and settles it back atop the bar with a satisfying thunk. “I don’t see your name on it, bud.” He steps forward enough to keep his partner out of the jackass’s sight.

“I’d like you to move, pal.”

“Who you calling ‘pal,’ friend?”

“Who you calling ‘friend,’ jackass?!”

“Hey!” Abe jabs a finger at the guy. “You’re already ‘jackass’ in my head, we can’t both be jackasses today!”

“You son of a—”

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty,” his partner suddenly interjects, treading between the two. “Please leave us alone before we all get kicked out for causing a scene,” they direct to the strangers.

Ever the attorney, his partner.

The trio of jackasses doesn’t hear the undercurrent of threat in their voice, however. The center jackass looks Abe’s partner up and down with something lewd and dismissive lined in his mouth. “Oh we’re way past that, birdie, now why don’t you back off and let the big boys hash it out? I can deal with you later.”

The word “deal” is emphasized with a shift of his eyebrows and Abe almost throws down right then and there, but his partner holds their arm out, as if sensing the direction of his thoughts.

Abe isn’t surprised when his partner stands their ground. They’ve never put up with being talked down to for long.

He is surprised when they clock the guy in the face without further verbal sparring.

The situation descends into chaos from there as Abe and the jackass’s friends join the fight with flying fists, bruised faces, and two bloody noses along with many other injuries until the bartender threatens to call the police.

Abe grabs the former District Attorney by the waist to keep them from giving one of the guys a second black eye. They fight vehemently against his hold.

“Whoa there, partner, take it easy—”

“Put me down, Abe, I got this!”

“I know you do, but why don’t we not deal with the cops today?”

Abe really shouldn’t enjoy carrying them outside and several blocks down, but he does. They’ve never been tiny, per se, but their solid form against his chest does odd things to his pulse. Their warmth also helps the initial rush of cold air pricking at his skin once again.

He finally releases them and they turn on him with an anger he’s certain could vaporize better men than he. Their glasses are askew, but somehow undamaged despite the peppered scratches on their cheek and split lip.

They jab a finger in his direction, voice going low. “Never. Carry. Me. Again.”

“Fine, but what the hell was that?” Abe demands. “Since when do you pick fights with total strangers?”

“If I recall, you were the one who almost got into that fight, I just beat you to it—”

“Don’t derail me with semantics, partner, what’s the problem?”

They cross their arms. Their knuckles are split and bleeding. “I didn’t realize I needed a license to beat the hell out of a bunch of perverted idiots.”

“C’mon, you know that’s not what I meant—”

But they’re already walking down the block again. Abe groans to himself and trails after them.

He doesn’t press for answers again, though it would be nice to have an answer for why he has a black eye right now.

He catches a glimpse of them shivering at the sudden rush of rain-threatening wind. They stifle the shaking once he catches up to their brisk pace.

At least this is familiar territory.

Abe takes his jacket off and puts it on their shoulders. He watches from the corner of his eye as they slip their arms into the sleeves.

As the rain slowly begins to trickles down around them, Abe spends far too much time wanting to take off their glasses to wipe the water off and maybe kiss their nose while he’s pushing boundaries.

Only the fear of another well-deserved elbow to his gut, or maybe even a punch to his face, prevents him from doing so.

Oo00oO

His partner doesn’t speak to him when they arrive home, but they do wrap up an ice pack for his eye. They head for the bathroom attached to the bedroom before he can try to fix up their own injuries, but not before he catches the guilt in their frown.

The urge to demand an explanation wells up again, and Abe crushes it. He can ask later, or they will tell him. He’s hoping for the latter. If he has to ask, it might mean they have no plans to bring it up themself.

And they really need to discuss this.

A quick glance around the apartment tells him that Wilford is not in, and probably has not been in for a while. Abe’s best guess is that the crazy bastard is off dancing again (when did “crazy bastard” also become a term of endearment?). So long as Abe and his partner don’t get any calls regarding any shenanigans Wilford gets up to, perhaps he and the DA can have the talk they need to have. In the meantime, he hangs up his wet jacket to dry and starts up the coffee pot because why the hell not?

A half-hour later, his partner re-enters the main room, their knuckles wrapped and the largest cut on their cheek bandaged. Their glasses rest on their nose still, smudged from a cleaning attempt it looks like. Without a word, they go sit on the couch. They pat the cushion beside them.

Abe sighs in relief. He hops over the couch and lands with a plop onto the cushions.

Before they speak, Abe blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

Their brow furrows. “I—what?”

He didn’t quite mean to jump right into this, but so long as he’s on the subject…

“You were right. I could have walked away, but I didn’t. Had you not stepped in, I definitely would have beaten the guy into a bloody pulp before you. I can’t exactly judge you for getting a head start on me. So I’m sorry for giving you a hard time about it.”

His partner taps their fingers against their forearm and shakes their head. “When I was still a lawyer, I probably would have just pulled you away and we both could have gotten out unscathed. Now…”

Abe hadn’t thought of that, but in retrospect, maybe that’s where his surprise came from. Far as he knows, they’ve only ever gotten into fistfights when no other options were available.

“Now?”

Their head tilts back to gaze at the ceiling. “Most days I still feel like I’m not here. Like I’m still trapped, like…like I still have something clawing to get out of me. When that guy looked at me the way he did…it brought back awful memories and I decided to just let it all out for a moment.” Their laugh is a bitter sound. “At the time, it felt good to let loose and finally tear into a guy without worrying about what it might do to my reputation.”

They look back at him. Their hand takes his, fingers tracing over a bruise on the back of his hand.

“I forgot, for a moment, that just because I wouldn’t necessarily be consequences for myself, didn’t mean there wouldn’t be consequences for someone else.” Their gaze is so intense Abe can barely breathe. “So I’m sorry you got hurt because I couldn’t walk away from a fight either.”

Abe should be thinking about their words, and he is, truthfully.

He remembers how uptight they were Before. Always afraid to stray off the straight and narrow the slightest bit for fear of all their hard work being undone in an instant. Even when they were undermined left and right they would keep silent, or as much as they could bear to depending on the circumstances. Abe can understand how the sudden disappearance of that intense pressure would affect them like this.

He remembers all of that.

But all he can think of now is how alive they looked when they clocked that bastard in the face. The furious fire alight in their eyes, the power of their hits, he never considered fist fights to be romantic, but then again, Abe never really had a specific type before.

Or perhaps his type has slowly taken shape into complicated former attorneys who call him out on his shit as much as they take part in it.

Abe doesn’t realize he’s moved until he’s already taken their glasses off their face and started cleaning the smudges with the bottom of his shirt. He chances a glance at his partner, who is staring at his moving hands like…well, he has no idea. A strange mix of confusion and something indefinable.

He doesn’t even try for an excuse for why he did that. And they haven’t done anything to stop him.

When he’s satisfied that the lenses are far clearer than before, Abe grins triumphantly at his handiwork, holding them up like a trophy.

His partner smiles back. There’s a bruise right on their cheekbone.

Abe means to put the glasses back onto their face, he really does. Instead he shifts closer to them, leaving enough space so they can move away if they wish to.

They don’t move.

“I will gladly have your back in any fist fights we start in the future,” he whispers. Before he can second guess himself, he pulls them in closer by the shoulder with his free hand so he can press a brief kiss to their forehead.

He intended to scurry off right after doing so, but they grab his hand and he stills. There is a long, pregnant pause.

They do not stare so much as probe deep into each other’s eyes like something out of a damn soap opera or something nonsensical and ridiculous along those lines. He wonders if they feel like their skin has been peeled away too. He wonders what they see that keeps them from breaking away from whatever this is.

Are they getting closer to him, or did he start leaning first, or is he just going crazy?

“Quite a storm out today, my friends!”

Abe and his partner jump to opposite ends of the sofa when Wilford suddenly appears, sitting on the middle cushion with his legs crossed. He’s wearing that godawful afro again. The false pink hairs are tipped with pearly raindrops.

His partner brushes their curls out of their face and clears their throat. “Hi, Wilford.”

Abe has no idea how they manage the nonchalance in their voice after the intensity of the moment five seconds before. Then again, they adapted to Wilford’s random and impossible materializing far quicker than Abe did.

“Were you out dancing?”

“Of course I was! Best way to pass a rainy day is a good disco party!”

“And the candy cane?” his partner asks.

“The what?”

They point to Wilford’s afro where, sure enough, the edge of a candy cane is sticking out.

Wilford pulls the treat out of his hair and stares at it for a moment. He shrugs and starts licking the cane, heedless of the synthetic fibers still stuck to it. “Perhaps one of Santa’s elves paid me a dance!” He declares mid-lick. “There were some lovely people there with pointed hats and striped stockings.”

“It’s October,” Abe points out. He doesn’t know why he’s still attempting to apply logic in this wherever-they-are, but it makes him feel better to try.

“An elf is an elf year round, my friend,” Wilford intones with the wisdom of an age-old scholar.

“They might have been witches, that’s all I’m saying. Wrong time of year for an elf to be hanging about.”

“Are you saying elves can’t be witches as well? My dear Abe, I wouldn’t have thought you to be so close-minded!”

“Yeah, Abe, don’t be so prejudiced,” his partner teases. “You might not get a visit from Santa otherwise.”

What the hell are they talking about right now?

His partner holds out their hand, uncaring of Wilford between them. Abe blinks and realizes he’s still holding their glasses. He hands them back sheepishly.

As they put their glasses back on, Wilford comments, “Well, look at you now, dear friend! You look like a scholar ready to prove the existence of dear old Nessie herself!”

They roll their eyes with a smile. “I appreciate that, Wilford.” They wink at Abe and he jerks his head away to hide a smirk of his own. “What are you up to now?”

“Well, now that we’re all on this couch together, I say let’s just enjoy one another’s company!”

Abe glances back to see a bowl of popcorn in Wilford’s lap, and the remote in his hand. “How the hell—?”

“Can we go to that channel that plays classic movies?” his partner asks without missing a beat. “I’ve been in a mood for something like Casablanca or Shop Around the Corner.”

“Oh, alright!” Wilford grumbles. He gestures at them wildly with the remote before switching on the television. “But I say we look for Tom and Jerry after this!”

“Sure. Now pass me the popcorn.”

Abe spares a glance at his partner again and thinks about their shattered moment. He shakes his head as a black-and-white film takes shape on the glowing television before them.

Probably for the best if he pretends there’s nothing between him and his partner. The three of them are already stuck in a world that doesn’t make sense.

Why begin one more thing he barely understands, even if it does stir up parts of him he thought were long dead?

Oo00oO

@skidspace , @peaceiplier , @wkm-detective-abe-squad , @veryobsessivefan , @lizard-in-a-skinsuit , @babymadz , @rainbowkittens97 , @peachythekeen-deactivated201810 , @statictay , @starcrossedforever87 , @dontworryaboutanything , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @ren-mon , @memetoyoko , @soul-wolf , @musical-jim , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods

#datective #kat writes #abe the detective #y/n district attorney #wkm #my last wkm post before nanowrimo #but more on that later

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tobespecial-a · 5 years

Text

HIYA FOLKS WELCOME TO MY BLOG HERE. GONNA KEEP THESE AS SIMPLE AS POSSIBLE SO LETS GET TO IT. --- this blog is dash only for now but may change in the near future.

first things first. i am a student in school monday - friday from 1-5pm so expect some slowness on my end. i am studying to be a mental health and addictions worker & am really passionate about the field i am in so i will be obviously prioritizing school & also irl commitments over rp. please respect this & we shall be dandy

now that thats outta the way. HI THERE I AM ES !!!! ( well technically its ESTELLE, but you can call me either or i do not mind !!! ) YOUR LOCAL NON-BINARY GAY ( they / them pls ) who is in fact straight af for a certain gay icon zachary quinto --- i hail from the pst timezone in vancouver canada. fun facts about me. ANYWHO ON WITH THE RULES.

REPLIES

this is not my only blog folks, it will be one of my more active ones, but it is not the only one i run. please be patient in terms of replies. i usually try to stay on top of my game but sometimes i miss shiz. pls poke me after 2 weeks if you are wondering, i may have missed it !! however it is likely in my drafts. PRO TIP THOUGH, i like each reply or starter posted to me, if i didn’t like it there is a 95% chance i did not see it. so please feel free to remind me after the 2 weeks.

also personals do not reblog my threads, ooc posts or anything thats not a reblogged photoset , its annoying, just don’t do it. -- i also have minor case of dyslexia so please be patient with spelling errors. i catch most of them, but sometimes i don’t get them all. if something becomes an issue please tell me.

FOLLOWING AND UNFOLLOWING

i am mutuals only. please keep this in mind. i will only take ooc asks from non mutuals. if i am not at least following you ( cos i know some people who i write with / have written with don’t follow everyone cos they want a clean dash, but they still wanna write ) then please don’t attempt ic interactions. this is your first & final warning. i will ignore attempts & block if it persists.

do not follow & refollow me repeatedly its also annoying & will likely get you blocked. i take a while to follow back sometimes, please be patient. i rarely unfollow so if you see it happen, please poke me. however i have the right to ignore it, or not answer. you have the invitation, i just don’t have to invite you in if i chose to revoke it.

disclaimer i probably will not follow blogs that romantically ship peter/claire. incest normally doesn’t bother me enough to mention it, but this one just really is a big nope for me. sorry in advance.

CHARACTERIZATION

gabriel is based off nbc heroes & my own personal headcanons. at the point of writing this i have seen the first & second season, i am making my way through the rest of the show at present. don’t worry about spoilers though as i pretty much know most of the major plot points for gabriel during the series, just not all the specifics. --- threads will generally take place in aus & content i have seen however, until i have caught up. though idk how big the fandom is so i sense a lot of aus my way any ways lol

*** REGARDING HEROES REBORN

i have no plans to watch it. sylar isn’t even in the show so its really just not required of me to view it. any plot lines transpired in that canon will never be seen in any way on my blog. sylar reforms himself post series & just goes on from there. when i officially make it through the whole show i will write proper headcanons on that.

ACTIVITY

because of school & other blogs i won’t always be around. however i can always be reached by mobile if you need anything, just hmu. thank you for your patience in this regard. also fair warning i do have ADD a low grade form of ADHD so i get a lot of the fun extras that come with it. please respect there are times i may need to step back or times when i become disassociated , its been happening a lot lately so i wanted to inform people so they don’t think i am ignoring them. i promise its not you, its me, i just need space. FOR THE MOST PART, i am usually always around to answer ims & messages so do not be afraid to message me or anything.

SHIPPING

ah yes everyones fave category. if anyone has questions you can always im me or hu my ask box for more deets. GABRIEL IS PANSEXUAL BORDERLINE GRAY ROMANTIC ( hes between demi & gray )

imma start off by saying that i ship syelle as well as petlar. a note about the later, from what i have read & seen i will only really ship them ( petlar ) during / post the wall, which at the time of writing this i still need to view. i would be open to pre show aus to start at this point.

anything else is fair game at this point, just be aware sylar isn’t looking for anything serious really during heroes canon. plus hes not exactly a nice guy so like be warned there. ---- honest to god if your interested in shipping with sylar or gabriel ( yes there is a difference ) pls come @ me. the worst i can do is say no.

i will also state i don’t ship sylaire because well…. shes underage ???? & before you leap down my throat about heroes reborn, most of the content i have seen is her being underage. but i’m not gonna accuse anyone of aging anyone up for a ship, cos there is canon where she is older. i am just not interested. don’t see the appeal, i’ve read way too much meta & just don’t see it.

it is also worth noting that post 3x01 the second coming, sylar can no longer die. he is immortal. save for one weak spot which he aint about to tell anyone where it is.

finally ummmm i’m 22 guys so no lying about your age to smut with me. i will block your ass if you do. don’t make me be the bad guy.

GODMODDING

pls do not god mod my muse. you wanna write him ?? make a blog of your own, or go write some fic. i play three strikes. first time is a reminder, second time is a thread drop third time is a partner all together drop. THESE CAN BE EXERCISED AT MY DISCRETION HOWEVER

also i think its worth mentioning cos some might see this as potential godmodding. sylar is not a nice guy, hes a type of serial killer. he will kill you if it benefits him, or if you piss him off enough. hes not above doing it just to prove a point. he will hurt you if you make angry, might not kill you but he can hurt you if you anger him. so if your muse riles him up enough ?? just be prepared for potential violence, that might follow. --- i will not exercise my muses strength cos you think its funny to have yours poke the hive. -- if you don’t like this, please don’t attempt to write with me. my muse is a villian for most of the show & i won’t be watering him down for you.

OOC VS. IC KNOWLEDGE

at the point i am in the show, the only people who know what sylar looks like are the people that have seen him, furthermore only those who have heard the name know he is even a thing. so its safe to say a lot of normal savillians don’t know him. HELL a lot of the heroes don’t know him either. --- keep this in mind when interacting. if your character has special abilities to know who he is, thats different, but don’t just assume you know who he is or what he does.

FURTHERMORE TO GO OFF A TANGENT i am not gonna be too keen to see a bunch of starters of people begging for their lives. gabriel is a hell of a lot more then just a random serial killer. he is a complex character who has feelings & issues of his own. hes not going to kill just anyone for the sake of it. please bare this in mind. i will likely not reply to those kind of random interactions. --- by all means if you wanna plot something like that i am game for it, but please give me the heads up. i will not reduce my muse to a stereotype killer, cause hes not & thats the tea. he only kills when it benefits him, its not a sport for the hell of it.

TRIGGERING CONTENT

given the nature of my muse there will be some triggering themes on this blog. such as murder, gore, suicide, manipulation. if anyone is bothered by this, please blacklist accordingly. i tag “ insert trigger “ tw. i will not be posting heavy gore on this blog in visuals at least & i ask you tag it if you post it. i’m fine with a bit of blood, but too much makes me a little ill. writing is fine, anything like a photoset with heavy gore needs to be tagged for me, & i myself will not be posting such content.

MAINS & EXCLUSIVES

i will only be doing exclusives for ships & crossover fandoms at this time. if you are interested in being mains lemme know. i do however require previous interaction ic or occ, preferably both. if you wanna be exclusive i ask you return the favour otherwise i drop the exclusivity.

AND I THINK THATS ABOUT IT !! I PROMISE I AM LESS SCARY THEN THESE RULES MAKE ME SEEM, I AM GIANT NERD WHO IS HELLA FRIENDLY & LIKES TO GUSH ABOUT HER FAVES ALWAYS !! MUTUALS MAY ASK FOR DISCORD IF THEY WISH TO TALK THERE

NOW HURRY UP & ATTACK MY INBOX OR IMS OR LIKE A STARTER CALL LETS WRITE !!

#rules !

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concerningwolves · 6 years

Text

On Writing, Planning and Process

The choice of approach to drafting your manuscript is one that can only be made confidently through experience. For those starting out, it can be seriously overwhelming. Write four drafts, says one author; write a plot and then draft, says another. Just plough straight in, call a few more from the back. All in all, a newbie writer would probably wind up approaching their story like this:

At the end of the day, only you can discover your process as you start to write—however, for those starting, here are some places for you to begin. Heck, even if you're an experienced writer, it can be good to remember the basics and how flexible they are!

Hang on Art, what does "the writing process" actually mean?

The process of writing is broken up into lots of stages—you have editing, drafting, revisions, beta-reading rounds... It's a smorgasbord, and an overwhelming one. I attempted to flow-chart it and got pretty flummoxed.

Thing is, there is no set process. The drafts and revisions are mainly intuitive, because you kinda have to do them—it's hard to edit a several hundred page story without doing that. My approach is more chaotic than this one, but I still get books written because it works for me.

Some of the possible approaches to drafting are:

Plot first – make a plot, outlines, chronology—the works. Doing this first means you could then plunge straight into draft one, if you wanted to.

Draft zero – this is the stuff you have at first, before any real plot or concrete concepts. It's worldbuilding, character development, moodboards... All the fun bits. Some people merge this with draft 0.5, and others skip it altogether. Sometimes it involves plotting, sometimes not.

It's really just the pre-story phase of spitballing, caffeine and stress.

Draft 0.5 – this is my preferred starting point, but it isn't for everyone. It's a manuscript, and it's got scenes in some kind of chronology, but it's also awful and impossible for anyone to read. Scenes are in the wrong places, features keep on appearing and disappearing, and entire characters are missing. The point is to get something on a page, and see where it goes. My own draft 0.5 for of Seas and Stars got re-started no less than fifteen times, each one vastly different from the last until I came to what I have now, which I am halfway through.

Plotting interval – for some, the plot comes first. For others, you figure out a basic one partway through draft 0.5 and run with it, making alterations along the way, or you sort it out later once draft 0.5 is done. If your plot is character driven, you may want to really get to know your characters all the way up to the first draft, and then make your plot while doing the second draft. If your plot is story-driven, you might make an outline as the very first thing you do.

Stephen King used the beautiful metaphor of finding a plot being like delecately excavating a large fossil, and while I think that metaphor is exactly what the writing process is like, there would also need to be some sort of plan in place before the excavation began. That is to say, although he intended the metaphor as a warning against plotting beforehand, it could be interpreted differently and still be very valid advice.

Rinse, Repeat - draft one acts as a stable(ish) base. From there onwards, you can break and rebuild as much as you like; the important thing is that you know what the fossil is, even if all of the bones are in the wrong place and need extensive repairs.

Once you’ve got the fossil manucript in a readable format, with the events as you want them, characters where they should be and the world established, you should start to consider beta-reading. It isn’t the end of the writing process, but it certainly helps you to get there. Your fossil has been assembled and the missing chunks filled in; all that is left now is to send off to the science guys who do their analysis so you can ready the fossil for museum display!

(Art, that’s enough about the fossil. Just talk about beta-reading already)

Your beta-readers act as a proto-audience, of sorts; except, they actually give you their feedback and are usually pretty harsh, rather than chatting about your writing at a book club where you will never hear the comments. 10-20 tends to be the range of beta-readers used. I like to aim for fifteen, max, but I have seen calls out in the past for 25.

Their input is so very, very valuable, even though it can be hard not to take it personally. I talked about my own discoveries about the beta process and how to survive it recently, here. Deciding when to put out the call for beta readers depends on how you feel, and whether or not you think it will help your story at the stage it is in. Working on my short story, The Circularity of Devolution, I found it helpful to share the story in its second draft and use the beta-reader’s comments as notes when revising and redrafting. However, I know that of Seas and Stars will still be unreadable by the second draft, and so won’t want beta readers for that.

Full disclosure: although an experienced writer, I only had my first taste of beta readers recently, and so although I can say a lot about how I personally found it, I’m not much good at providing a more objective view. But you know who can? @brynwrites. They have this ask here summarising a few pointers, and then this FAQ on beta-readers. There’s more if you browse for it, but these are the key things you might need to know.

But do you need to do all of this in one go?

No, not at all. Again, it’s completely up to you, although I wouldn’t reccomend doing that for a few reasons:

You could burn out and kill a great story

Breaks help you gain perspective

You have a life outside of writing, and you need to be there for that too

writing is mentally, physically and emotionally demanding

working on one thing continuously could kill inspiration

As Bryn says, beta-reading rounds are great times to take a break and work on something else. I intend to use mine to type up a fanfic I’m handwriting. As well as talking about manuscripts being like fossils, Stephen King also says how he likes to leave his novels for at least a month before going into the final draft. He uses that time to write novellas. It can be tempting to forgo breaks and run with your inspiration until you’re completely frazzled, but that won’t get you anywhere in the long run. Take care of the author, and then you can take care of the story!

After all this, what next?

If you’re going for publishing, there are lots of ways to do that. Supposing that you don’t self-publish, you may get an agent, which could lead you to editors, and eventually a published work. Sometimes, you can sit back and just allow your book to inch towards publication, all of your work done. Oftentimes, you might get rejected and sent a slip saying “Great story! But X, Y and Z need tweaking in order for it to be sellable”. You would then need to judge that advice, mix in a tiny bit of salt, and dive into another revision before you try again.

All it takes to find out more about publication options in a quick Google and a scour through the top articles. Listen to what published authors say, and do a lot of research for yourself. Check writing forums and magazines for agents, making sure that your writing and their preferrences are compatible. Make a pros and cons chart of Self-Publishing vs not self publishing.

It’s really important to have all of your options on the table before you make your choice.

This has been a part of my “On writing” advice series, which is updated a few times a month and covers topics from writing genius characters to representing certain groups, elements of the craft, genres and everything in between. Check out The Art Forecast to see what’s coming up for March.

If you have any questions in the meanttime, send in an ask (I’m thrilled to have re-opened my inbox!), and best of luck to you all in your writing and your life x

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