#the first draft is ambiguous because i couldn't decide | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sorenphelps · 5 months

Text

All the artwork I made (so far) for the fanfic Fall For Me by @nikialexx for this year's @rsbigbang!

When we received the fanfic summaries and I saw that there's gonna be a rockstar AU, I ranked it high and was hoping for the best that I'd get it... And I got lucky, we got paired up with Niki, and I cannot even begin to express how much fun working with her has been! When I signed up for the Bang, I had no idea that I will end up being such an overachiever, but our collaboration was just too inspiring for me to stick to making only 1 picture! I'm gonna share a little backstory for all of them, also listing all the hidden easter eggs!

The banner: It was inspired by an off-screen scene (and a Hozier gif) Niki shared with me which inspired her to play with this AU to begin with! She was kind enough to let me design the look of the characters however I wanted and as I am the biggest facial hair enthusiast irl, I shamelessly drew the boys with beards, even tho it is not even once mentioned in the fic! (I aspire to be the fanartist known for drawing every male character with a beard, jsyk.) I am especially fond of Remus' nose, it just turned out so cute! Also, big thanks to Niki again for adding the extra bit about Sirius' parents coming from Vietnam, which is a very personal touch for me! It's the reason why I draw the Black family members with East Asian features, and finally it is perfectly valid in this fic's canon! 🙇🏻‍♀️

The paparazzi photo: This was my very first idea upon reading the summary of the fic, and thankfully Niki was very onboard with this too! This however turned out to be more challenging than expected, the first version was from a different angle and I really couldn't figure out the correct proportions and perspective, and the pose is harder to pull off in an anatomically correct way to begin with, so after some discussions whether it would be plausible in the fic if the paparazzi would have a room next to this balcony instead of in front, it finally clicked into place! And it is actually a real place in Madrid (the hotel and the background too)! Madrid is my ultimate favourite European city and I've spent 2 weeks working there this spring, so I could actually use my own photos as reference! I also hid a crescent moon and a star on the label of the wine bottle in the background! In the fic it is a kiss and they shouldn't be this visible, but I think I managed to convey the heat of this moment anyway. I really like how Sirius licks Remus' neck and their pleasure is obvious however subtle it is. Also because it is not an actual kiss, it has around the same level of ambiguity as the "original" semi-hidden photos would have in my opinion?

The Instagram posts: This idea came to me while reading the first draft of the fic. I've always liked social media inspired drawings, so at first I just sketched it out for fun, but then I liked it too much, so I finalized it, only to realize that I remembered incorrectly and it was not an Instagram post in the fic! Thankfully Niki was flexible enough to change the platform to Instagram in the final version to cover for my mistake! As in the fic it's Snape who takes the paparazzi photos, I referenced him in the first insta post (username). The second insta post was a last minute addition, I figured why not put the story in a "frame" this way. I wanted to draw Remus again, and I had so much fun with it, I've added a lot of easter eggs too! He is drinking wine and is a little tipsy - just as the beginning, and a lot of other times in the fic actually, haha -, he has the ring, the photo was taken in James' restaurant, and there is also Padfoot the dog, who is now bigger as a whole year has passed! Niki gave me free hand with the caption and the comments too, so I decided to really double down on the story framing idea, and have the same comments, but with a twist, emphasizing Sirius' sassiness more (the caption and the extra comment from him saying the love of his life is his dog, but i used the moon and wolf emojis so it would refer to Remus... Also Padfoot is on the picture which is a nod back to the first one when the comment said who is on the picture).

The extra sketches: Originally I didn't want to add the extra sketches, as all three were just warmup before/after working on the actual pieces, but Niki decided to include them in her fic anyways! I really enjoyed the tension of the bathroom scene, I might even clean that sketch up sometime, but the roughness somehow really fits the vibe of the scene! The guitar playing one was actually the first version of the insta post that I only drew for my own fun, before I moved to make a more direct illustration of the scene. I really like how it looks, the guitar just looks so right in Sirius' hand! The boy really is a born rockstar, haha! The balcony in the background has the same pattern as the hotel in Madrid, however it really is just a coincidence. And how could I have resisted drawing Sirius with baby Padfoot?

The promo pic: I had the basis of this picture since working on the banner, but I actually only finished it recently. My aim was to make it look like an actual promo, influencer style (that's why the text is so cringy)! I've also came up with the idea of drawing the rockstar version of Sirius with a cross earring while working on these pictures, which I liked to much that I draw every version of him with it now 😆 It's like 95% of aesthetic and 5% reference to his godfather status (which makes sense only in my native language, cause the word for godfather is mirror translated as cross-father).

The rockband pic and the concert pic: I'm gonna list them here too, because they are both connected to the fic! Neither of them is a direct illustration, but they were inspired by the conversations I had with Niki in the meantime! The concert pic is actually a variation for the situation I tried to convey with the banner!

TLDR; (this became so long again, jeez) I really enjoyed working on all of these pictures, and I am sure that I will definitely create more! (The R/J/S threesome is just too tempting!!) It was really the most prosperous of collaborations, and it was so nice to get to know Niki too! I am really grateful for the opportunity to join the Bang, in my case it really delivered all the benefits: engaging more in this fandom, my creative drive skyrocketing and getting to know a lot of new people! Thanks to everyone involved, really!

#r/s big bang #nikialexx #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #fanart #art by lau #lau draws with a tablet #rockstar au #collaboration

40 notes · View notes

quaranmine · 3 months

Text

Things that Could've Happened in Firewatch AU but Didn't

Hi, and welcome to scrapped plot points. This fic had a general direction from the beginning but a lot of details came together as I went.

🔥First of all, I've posted the discord message before, but I actually originally envisioned it as "ambigious" whether Mumbo was dead or alive. This was scrapped the moment I tried to determine HOW one makes that ambiguous. think about it for a moment.

🔥I've also stated this before but I initially wanted this to just be a string of vignettes throughout the summer with no real plot or resolution to it. This is where I got a lot of early ideas for Grian and Scar hangout/character relationship development back in Dec 2022 (Scar and Top Gun, Scar's job as a door to door salesman, etc) (the salesman idea was actually from one of my tumblr asks, thanks!)

🔥Originally I....had more of a human conflict present? I actually struggle to remember some of what I planned because it got scrapped so quickly once I thought it through more. But you can still see references to it in my notes:

(last one is from first draft of chapter 11, one year prior to the final draft.) There's??? so much conflict implied here. Grian gets CHASED! people BROKE into his tower! someone STOLE THE BIKE! drama!!

I scrapped it because it was too unbelievable. Specifically, it was unbelievable for this plot line. I still had the same "truth" to the plot present—that there was no conspiracy and Mumbo had just died after being injured in a place outside the initial search zone. All this other behavior would have just been red herrings from people who had nothing to do with Mumbo's disappearance.

A lot of this also very reminiscent of the actual Firewatch game type of intrigue. I was always heading to a similarly anti-climatic ending (aka no overarching conspiracy) as the original game. But this did not fit. Because...why would someone else do this? They wouldn't have the same motivations as Ned Goodwin in Firewatch. It'd just be some pissed off teens/the firework couple who decided to mess with Grian to throw him off. Except they wouldn't know they were throwing him off anything, because they wouldn't know him, so it'd just be purely some third party messing with him. But I felt like real life is rarely this....malicious. I've had people go out of their way to harass me with road rage, sure. But all of this drama was scrapped because I felt it was SOOOOO unlikely for a random person to just be harassing Grian like this Just Because. It did not fit! It was so coincidental and requried people to make questionable decisions that I couldn't fit into any good framework of motive.

It was a bad idea and I'm glad I abandoned it. It might have been a good idea in a different context...but it did not fit at all here.

🔥I briefly toyed with something like what happened with Cian McLaughlin happening in this fic. Cian McLaughlin is an Irish man who went missing in Grand Teton National Park (nearly adjacent to this story's setting) in 2021. He was never found, unfortuantely. His case is notable because a woman provided a false eye witness report of seeing in a completely false location. On purpose, to be clear. She purposefully lied to the National Park Service about seeing him somewhere she didn't, while providing enough personal detail they thought it was a real report. She claimed to have done this to ensure that multiple locations were searched for him, to expand the search area, but she really just derailed over 500 hours of search time to the wrong place. It's so sad.

I was like, this is an intriguing case. What if this happened with Mumbo? What if this is why he was in a different location than the search was? Because someone falsely reported him being where he wasn't? But I faltered on it for many reasons. First of all, I felt it was kind of disrespectiful to Cian Mclaughlin and his family to blatantly draw off details of his real life disappearance in such an obvious way. It's a recent one too. This is not a cool mystery detail, this is real life and a real person and a real grieving family. Secondly, it goes back to the problem with the other issue about people interfering the case: why? You could ask why this woman interfered with Cian's case too, and that's real life. But in a fictionalized setting—why? What would it add, when I know that the truth of what happened to Mumbo was going to be mundane anyway? Why introduce this bizarre secondary plot element just to distract Grian and the reader? It could have just been a mistaken report, not a purposeful one, but it's just derail the story in a very unsatisfying way.

In the end the only remaining trace of this idea is Grian in chapter 5 (?) saying that someone had seen Mumbo at the Cloud Lake Trail and provided an eyewitness report. Which, for the record, is supposed to be an accurate account—he did go there, his car was there, and he did get spotted there at the beginning of his trip. He just diverged from the trail at a later point.

🔥I meant to do a fun little formatting thing and have Mumbo's past through processes and actions be intercut with Grian's present-day processes in Chapter 11. Or to put that more clearly, when Grian was running down the mountain away from the fire (but before he saw Mumbo) I wanted his choices to be contrasted with the ones Mumbo made. It would've been a stylistic choice. Mumbo's paragraphs might have been in italics, and I toyed with doing a right alignment instead of left alignment so it'd really stand out. The idea was to show how their two independent thought processes converged and led them to the same point on the mountain at different times. It would've been the only time in the story we ever got something from Mumbo's POV.

I scrapped this because I hated what I'd written in Mumbo's sections and never got around to rewriting it or adding it in retroactively. I think it was a cool idea but I did not pull it off. I don't the the fic is worse for it, though. I think it does a good enough job leading the reader into that parallel without spelling it out Quite that much. I also kind of....like that Mumbo never has his own voice in this story to explain his own decisions. It's sad, but it's part of the story.

🔥I seriously did not always have the main wildfire at the end of the story in the plot. I actually initially had Scar just coaxing Grian to tell him where he was, or allowing the search and rescue to come find him. And that would've been it, the search and rescue coming.

🔥Or.....when I toyed with whether or not Grian and Scar should meet at the ending of the story, I also considered an alternate ending where Scar came to Grian to rescue him. That he reported Grian's location to SAR, and then came himself. I scrapped this because it made no sense logistically. It's all well and good for there to be a dramatic scene of Scar coming to Grian's aid and them meeting for the first time in person. But Scar is miles away. And more importantly, Scar has an established disability and chronic pain that limits the trails he walks on. He specifically says he hasn't explored trails too far from his lookout because it'll pretty much wipe all his spoons for ages. (well, he doesn't say spoons because this is the 80s, but that was the meaning.) I was like okay. He's not only far from the trail but he's literally physically unable to make it there in time and one thing I'm NOT doing in this fic is undermining his disability (especially since I already had to make him a ~certain~ degree abled in order to do the job.) So I kept him in his spot. I think it added more tension anyway, because it's such a special kind of horror he experienced having to witness everything go down but be unable to help Grian other than over the radio.

🔥Speaking of the wildfire, I had a version where Grian escaped it for an embarassingly long time. Like until January or even February still (of this year!) The idea was the Grian outran it and then got found. A lot of this was just that I didn't want to figure out how to write him surviving a wildfire. I knew it'd be difficult and straddle the line of unbelievable. I wanted to take the easier way out of writing the scene.

But honestly...there was no way else the scene could've gone. I spelled it out in chapter 8 with my rather blatant foreshadowing—you CAN'T outrun a wildfire. I mean, I guess in good circumstances with good wind and experience you probably could. Afterall, hotshot crews and wildland firefighters are able to get in and around the fires without (normally) casualties all the time. But fires move faster than people. WAY faster. It'd just be a disappointing conclusion for Grian to somehow be the Super Lucky One who somehow skipped being in the danger. No, I had to follow through with what I'd set up and just go for it.

🔥I also entertained an idea of him sheltering in the overhang with Mumbo. It would've played out nearly like the fire played out in the main fic, the only difference was with him. It was the most "meaningful" option for shelter (since the other options were no shelter, and random shelter.) He would've been surviving death right next to Mumbo, who didn't survive. I could have made that very poignant if I wanted.

But I disliked this because I'd already written the part about Grian deciding to move on. I felt that bit of the scene was really key for the message of the story as a whole.

I wanted Grian to make the CHOICE to live instead of just refuse to move and survive anyway. You know? Grian, in-universe, would have no idea what decision would lead to his survival. But as the author with the power to do what I want, I knew he was surviving all my options. So my options were: 1) easy scene to write where he survives but doesn't experience much danger, 2) hard scene where he survives and makes the conscious decision to live and move forward, and 3) medium difficulty scene where he survives but was still emotionally stuck-in-place.

(Above: some random notes I typed about the finale scene options on my phone, in a situation where I should NOT have been writing fic notes on my phone lol)

In case it's not obvious, the final scene is the second one—Grian makes that key decision to live, but still experiences the danger I've set up so that I can follow through on the tension I created.

🔥I restructured the final chapter so that there was a bigger gap in time between Scar and Grian talking about Everything and Grian arriving. I initially had it when Grian essentally just came...and then like 5 mins later they were laying all that out while Grian sat on the bed. It just made the vibes of the scene Off. It was too quick, not satisfying. So I kept most of the same dialogue and stuff and structured it into a chapter where Grian meets Scar, and they kind of spend a mostly chill afternoon talking and hanging out until they delve into the Deep Stuff later that night while stargazing (let's be real you can never go wrong with stargazing for a deep scene.) I felt it was likely they'd kind of pretend everything was "normal" at first until they were more comfortable in each other's prescence. Also, we ALL know the middle of the night is when the real stuff comes out lmao. You can see my cut up and reused pieces of the original chapter version in the indented italic parts of chapter 12. I liked some of those interactions so I wanted to preserve them somehow even though the final chapter was structured in a way that cut it out.

So far, that's all of the major plot differences that I can think of at the moment. Some of the other elements (like the mistaken permit situation) came into play after I already had chapters uploaded, but I don't have a concrete idea of what might have happened in their place. Chapter 9 really evolved and got out of hand as I wrote it, but I knew from a few chapters earlier that he was going to do Something that got him fired. So I was able to refine the specific actions when I got there, since I just knew it had to be major and outlandish in the name of getting more information.

I had most of this story worked out ahead of time. But there were absolutely major changes that happened during the course of writing it. I was just fortunate that my intense outlining and focus on it ensured that I never encountered a situation where I had to make changes that majorly affected an already uploaded chapter. Yay for sticking close to the general outline even when the details were in question!

If I think of anything else, I'll reblog this post. :)

#i kind of like reviewing these things because i think i made the right choice in all cases #and built the story i have now #and i think that....working through these options and analyzing them. determining the ways in which they did/didn't work.#determining what message they'd send about the story versus the message i wanted to actually convey #is one thing that made me improve as a writer and made this story better #a lot of this AU came easily to me since i just....wanted to write about and explore this #if it didn't come easy to me it probably wouldn't have happened because i wouldn't have pursued the story long enough to piece it together #but the rest of it came from a lot of work and analysis and self-criticism in order to make sure my plot points were all Purposeful #i reviewed this fic to hell and back. if there was a scene in the story it was because I Meant It To Be There and had a reason for it #hc_firewatch_au

9 notes · View notes

fervency-if · 1 year

Note

What inspired you to create major characters? Do their first drafts differ in any way from what they turned out to be? (Feel free to talk about any characters who have interesting behind the scenes stories.)

That's a really fun question! My reply is quite long, because I always end up going on tangents, so I'll put it under a cut.

The story itself (or rather, Part I,) is actually based on a short story I wrote a long time ago for fun (it was just a quick writing prompt, "write a story about vampires," about 1200 words I wrote in some hour,) so there wasn't really any planning to talk about there, and when it comes to the first part of the game itself I never intended it to grow any larger than perhaps 5000 - 10 000 words or so (since it was just supposed to be an entry for the Halloween Jam 2022 for fun, my plan was just "alright, let's adapt the short story to a short game since the themes align") - it's very improvised, I wrote 65 000 words in perhaps two and a half week, so there were never any early drafts or even things I had written down beforehand.

When I wrote the short story, I think I just thought that I wanted to write something about a plague doctor, because I've always been interested in them (and found their design cool.) I just made her up on the go, and then took the small amount of characterisation she had in the short story and fleshed her out - she's pretty much the same, but a bit more morally ambiguous in the game. I do believe she might have been a tad more callous (in her motives, not demeanor) in the short story, but not to a great extent.

I'm not as sure about Aubrey, even though I did create his character specifically for the game (he was just some young man who started the pandemonium when the main character was busy having fun and a good meal in the cloakroom in the short story, the narrator never even interacted with him.) I think I just wanted a crazy, unhinged, and morbid little guy, because I find such characters fun and fascinating overall, and he grew from there. His name actually comes from when I was picking out names for the player to choose for their main characters if they didn't type it in themselves. I thought of a couple of nice, androgynous names, "Aubrey" came up in my head, and then I thought "no, wait, that name is perfect for the Mayor's son, I'll give that to him."

Bess and Francesco were inspired by the entire "old-timey lesbian/gay salon patron"-idea. Those were characters I could see sitting there looking dapper with a glass of liquor in their hands, charming women and men respectively with their dashing smiles.

Vesa's looks are inspired by the flapper aestethics, as well as the silent movie era. (She's definitely the character who looks most "modern" by real-life standards.)

I created Narciso partly because of my interest in opera, and also because the city of Pearlmoor holds art in high regard - I wanted to show the love of the arts in a more sinister manner by having a castrato being their current superstar, with people ignoring the suffering he's gone through for the sake of their beloved music.

Changes:

Bryars changed his colours. At first, he was just some nameless young man in a pretty gown that you could eat or bloodlet, so I just gave him a random appearance - blond hair and light skin; one couldn't even interact with him aside from eating or healing (I didn't write the mingle scenes or the scenes at the square in the prologue until I started to flesh the story out) so it didn't matter, I cared more about describing his costume. When he became an actual character and I decided that he will be a RO in a certain route, I changed his hair colour to black and his skin tone to olive since there's already a young, pale, blond, male RO as it is.

#fervency #fervency if #interactive fiction

19 notes · View notes

mizusjawline · 7 months

Text

Engelslied, Engelsleid

Summary: Der Tod is feeling sexually frustrated and decides to satisfy themselves on one of their angels

Fandom: Elisabeth das Musical, Zukabeth

Rating: Explicit, nb/nb

Pairing: Tod x Todesengel, implied Sissitod

Trigger warnings: dubious consent

Additional tags: Der Tod has an ambiguous genetalia situation here, Tod uses they/them pronouns, written with ZukaTod in mind, minors dni

A/N: I have some fluffy sissitod in the works but it would seem that I need to balance out the softness w some angsty hate-banging. Pls enjoy.

No Todesengel were harmed in the making of this fic

Der Tod fumed. Hair billowing behind them, they stormed through their castle in the realm of the dead, leaving an icy draft in their wake.

Every time they visited Sissi, they were sure this time would be the one. This time she could not possibly turn them away. They'd taken everything from the girl that could possibly keep her in the realm of the living and yet she insisted on staying!

Once again, the sharp tongued Empress had sent the Reaper out of the room. Once again the rejection. Once again, the smarting humiliation. Once again, that bitter, unfulfilled sexual frustration like a gulf in their stomach.

Der Tod could no longer stand it!

They stormed around the corner, almost colliding into one of their angels that was standing to attention at the intersection. Hollow, beautiful things, they were. Der Tod had created them with great pride. But right now, they felt only disdain and dissatisfaction for the creature. Intending to push it aside angrily and march on, Der Tod dug their hands into its jacket.

And that was when it happened.

Knowing its master's intentions, the angel cowered, preparing to catch itself when it hit the wall. There was something in its face, in its body language, that reminded Der Tod of Elisabeth. Something about the helplessness of being entirely at the Reaper's mercy, and yet always planning to catch herself no matter what blow came.

All of a sudden, there seemed to be a resemblance between the angel and the Empress. It had a similar facial shape, similar eyes. Its hair fell partially over its face the way Sissi's did when it was undone. The angel could be Sissi and yet it was nothing like her. Der Tod growled, a low rumble. The duality was suddenly and violently turning them on.

Angrily, they pushed the angel against the wall. Then they were kissing it. Kissing anywhere. Anywhere there was skin. Desire. Skin. Cold, lifeless skin. More. More. They wanted more. Oh how they longed for Sissi's soul! How they longed for her body! Inflamed, they got friskier, grinding, rubbing, groping. Making messy noises between licks and kisses.

The angel received its masters attentions obediently. Standing still and doing as it was told like Sissi never did. It made the Reaper furious, drove them mad.

They were in a state of predatory frenzy when the first orgasm washed over them.

Disoriented, the Reaper staggered back, for the first time taking stock of their handywork. The angel looked calm, composed. Its face was still flawless, its hair not so much. Its clothing had given underneath the Reaper's hungry hands, disgruntled and torn. All in all, it was a bit...... disappointing.

They wanted to make a mess. They wanted to put a flaw on that flawless being in front of them. They wanted to humiliate it the way Sissi had humiliated them. And yet they couldn't because the angel was a cold lifeless being that felt nothing.

"Take your shirt off," they commanded. As the angel obeyed, der Tod disdainfully grabbed a large handful of its platinum hair and pulled. The angel did not feel pain, of course. Sissi would feel pain if the Reaper grabbed her like this.

With slow, sadistic intent, Der Tod began running their hands through the angel's hair. First, they pulled only gently, grunting in satisfaction at the sight of the taught locks. Then, they began to pull out singular strands here and there. Working their hands through the lush curls, they found a particularly nice strand, curly, blue at the roots and diffusing into platinum blond at the tips. Der Tod curled it lovingly around their finger, twined and fiddled with it for a bit. Then a firm yank and it was out. They dropped it and continued to explore the angel's hair.

As they worked with disdainful deliberation, the Reaper began to grind their hips up against the angel. Finished with its hair, their hands moved down to explore the now exposed torso. Fondling its shoulders, its midriff, then its breasts, some of the anger and tension inside the Reaper started to abate. They were now treating the angel more gently, teasing its nipples with their thumb before bending down to use tongue.

The Reaper hummed to themself, pleased with the sensation of the rough, erect flesh against their lips. For a bit, they simply played, using their teeth to gently nibble and pluck at the skin. They wondered what sounds Sissi would make if this was her breast, and the thought gave them much satisfaction.

Responding to an unspoken command, the angel undid the Reaper's trousers. Its fingers found their clit and started rubbing and circling exactly as its master liked it. Der Tod responded in kind by slipping their hand down its spine, into the back of its trousers. They were starting to feel agitated again, the fingers that were caressing their underside irritating as well as arousing them. Finding the angel's ass crack with one hand, they fumbled open the front of its trousers with the other for easier access.

The two figures jerked against each other awkwardly as Der Tod wormed their way down the angel's crack, finding its asshole and massaging their way into it, moving in tandem with the angel's rubs.

For now, the angel was ignoring Der Tod's erectile penis, and as the two of them worked each other, it left a trail of cum agross its thigh. Finally, Der Tod could bare it no longer. Removing the angel's trousers completely, they hiked it up so that they were aligned and penetrated it.

For a moment, there was tense silence, save for the heavy breathing, the jostling movements and the sound of wet, fleshy friction. Then, Der Tod made a loud sound between a ghasp and a moan and the two partners crumpled into each other.

When Der Tod came back to themselves, some of the tension and anger had abated, leaving a bitter aftertaste. Numbly they stumbled away, putting their clothes back into order.

#takarazuka elisabeth #elisabeth das musical #zukabeth #fanfic #takarazuka revue

3 notes · View notes

linkspooky · 1 year

Note

Hello!

I was wondering what inspired you to have Mimiko and Choso interact in Werewolf?

They are two characters I would never thought would interact, but I absolutely love their interactions and friendship throughout the fic. It’s like the Nanako-Mimiko-Junpei friendship that I deeply love!

Is one the reasonings is to give Choso a sort of found family?

Sure, I can give you a peek into my chaotic story planning process. So, as I've said previously before I even start a fic I jot all my ideas on paper. Basically just scenes I think would be cool or things I want to happen in the story. Brainstorming is obviously different than an outline though because you can't shove every single idea you have into a story, otherwise the story will be too long.

So in the outlines I try to be as efficient (read: lazy) and cut scenes and characters down, basically how can I tell the story in as few scenes as possible (every scene I cut I don't have to write, which saves me a lot of work yay!)

Werewolf and its prequel Three's Company basically started with the thought "I don't have a lot of female characters in my fic, I should write some more female focus fics." Then, Werewolf became "The Mai Fic". It didn't really materialize until I watched the Fear Street Trilogy, and the second movie ended on a shot of two sisters who were complete opposites and spent all their time fighting with each other spending their final moments reaching out for one another. All the chapters in Werewolf are named from tracks on the Fear Street soundtrack because of that inspiration. So basically it goes Ideas -> Characters -> Scenes -> Exposition and in between parts.

The plan was always to include Choso in the fic, because of two reasons number one Nobara never really had to face the fact she murdered Choso's brothers and felt very little guilt about it unlike Yuji, and second it's timeline wise takes place right after Origin of Obedience. Also, since my previous fic Butterfly Curve took a deeper look at Mahito, I wanted to feature Choso in a fic. The idea of making Noranso the main antagonist literally came from my friend going "It's kind of lame Choso has six other brothers but we're never going to meet them because Gege doesn't think they're important."

In my original draft for Choso's involvement in the story he was not going to spend time with Mimiko at all. The first plan was that Choso, Mahito, and the curse spirit Non/Not-Mai would all be visiting the village together and act as a secondary antagonist to Noranso. This idea got axed for two reasons, one it would be a pain to write three characters every time that trio was onscreen, number two I couldn't come up with a good enough explanation for why Non was still alivein some form after the end of the Junpei fic because that was sort of her final hurrah.

The next idea was to have Mahito and Choso together, to contrast their different beliefs of what a cursed spirit is, and what humans are. Mahito considers himself a "true" cursed spirit and despises humanity and human values, whereas Choso is ambiguous on whether he's human or a curse, neutral to humanity, and values his connections to his brothers in a really humanlike way. This idea got cut because I like Mahito. No, I really like Mahito. I know everyone hates Mahito, but that's exactly what I like about him. I wanted to make Choso the focus of this fic, the same way Mahito was the focus of my "Butterfly Curve" fic, but if I shoved Mahito into this one I knew he would take focus away from Choso. So I cut Mahito.

The third idea was to send in Choso alone, but I thought we already kind of had a scene like that in Shibuya, we saw Choso revenge driven and alone and fighting against Yuji. I didn't want to just copy that scene exactly but with Nobara instead of Yuji. So from then on I needed two criteria for Choso's inclusion in the fic, 1) it had to be someone he played off of well, 2) someone who wouldn't draw attention away from him.

That's when I decided to throw Mimiko in. Number one because I have used Mimiko and Nanako as a pair of twins to contrast Maki and Mai's relationship before. Mimiko being the weaker sibling between the two, needing Nanako to boss her around and make all her decisions for her resembling Mai always needing to be protected by Maki when they grow up together. Mimiko and Choso also resemble each other, they're both really morose, quiet, they're kind of broody outwardly, while hiding deeper emotions inside themselves.

Then I realized there was a deeper connection there, because Choso and Mimiko are both entirely codependent on their blood siblings. They were both abandoned by their parents so their blood siblings makes up their entire connection to the world around them, Mimiko and Nanako pretend they're the same person divided into two bodies so they won't ever lose the connection they have as siblings, and despite how much Choso genuinely cares about his siblings he's also like kind of delusional about his family like he imagines them in his head constantly cheering on big bro and imagines a more wholesome family than he really is. For example, Yuji is kind of neutral on Choso though he shows him some affection whereas Choso would die for Yuji in an instant.

So my idea was to have these two characters interact to show you can move away from blood family as the only family you're ever going to have. Mimiko has already taken the first step in this. After losing Geto her and Nanako thought there was no one else in the world who would take care of them, but then Michi made taking care of Mimiko and Nanako his only priority, and they were able to befriend Junpei which showed they can make connections with people outside of their closed off little family. The idea was also to continue Mimiko and Nanako's arcs from previous fics by having Mimiko just learn to function on her own by going solo the whole fic. Therefore to show this slight change in Mimiko's thinking, number one she goes out of her way to do something kind for Choso in their very first interaction because 1) she notices how much Choso is suffering from the loss of his siblings, and 2) she understands that loss because number one if she were to lose Nanako it would destroy her, and two she lost Geto who was the most important person to her besides Nanako.

Choso is in the middle of what is basically a desire for murder-suicide against the two people who killed his brothers because he believes he cannot live past the loss of them, and that was something Mimiko once belived that she couldn't go on without Geto and yet she made new connections to Michi and Junpei. Therefore when Choso has his big moment of attempting that revenge against Nobara that he's willing to die right then and there fore, it's Mimiko who pulls him back from the edge and literally heals him with RCT.

I also wanted to write a fic more focused on Choso's mourning of his brothers, because that was essentially kind of skipped over because he focused more on revenge than feeling his sadness at the loss of them, so in this fic Choso is essentially called upon to feel his sadness around someone like Mimiko who understands his loss. Mimiko realizes that Choso may act like the oldest brother, but deep down he's just a crybaby.

#choso #mimiko hasaba #authors notes #fanfic asks #nobody dies au #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #askspookies

10 notes · View notes

grant---p · 9 months

Text

The Fact-Checker Who Just Couldn't Fiction: One Man's Struggle Between Truth and Lies

Jackson "Jack" Worthy was thrilled to land a job as a fact-checker for a major news organization. "Finally, a job where my obsessive attention to detail is an asset!" he thought to himself. However, his excitement quickly turned to panic when he learned he had to pass a true-or-false screening test first. Despite studying rigorously, Jack failed the test not once, not twice, but three times before barely scraping by on the fourth try. "I guess constantly questioning and second-guessing facts doesn't lend itself well to multiple choice exams," Jack realized a little too late. (Editor's Note: Five times, record can prove he passed on the 5th attempt! Jack should've taken the hint after the first failure. He claims it was a computer error.). Still, Jack managed to hang onto his new job by the skin of his teeth. At first, he felt right at home, eagerly verifying statistics, poring over sources, and pestering writers and editors about any potential inaccuracies. But over time, Jack started getting a little loose with the facts. He'd approve an article saying the mayor was 47 when she was really 48. He let a claim that it rained 3 inches yesterday stand, even though the weather station recorded 2.5. When asked if he was fired from a previous job, Jack replied "False! I voluntarily relocated to new opportunities." (Editor's Note: AKA he was totally fired). His casual relationship with the truth didn't sit well with his employers. When Jack claimed he still lived in his hometown of Scranton, PA, despite moving to Albany, NY years ago, the head fact-checker called him out, after double, triple and quadruple checking facts before confirming them as true.

"But Scranton just feels more emotionally true to me," Jack tried arguing. "Plus it rhymes with canton." But his excuses didn't fly. Now unemployed, Jack wonders if a lifelong dedication to nitpicking facts was really meant to be. "Oh well," he sighs. "I heard there's an opening for a creative fiction writer I'd be perfect for…"

After departing from the news organization, Jack decided to try his hand at writing fiction. No longer constrained by pesky "facts", he was free to let his imagination run wild. Or so he thought. He wrote a novel about an elite league of martial arts fighters who competed in an underground tournament called "Kumite". Reviewers praised its gritty action sequences, even if some of the MMA moves described didn't actually exist. . When Jack drafted a screenplay about a college a cappella group called the "Barden Bellas", his agent questioned whether competitive a cappella was really a thing. "Well it just became a thing because I say so," Jack replied confidently. (Editor's Note: Sounds fake but okay). But when Jack pitched a biography of the first dog to be elected US President, no publisher would bite. "You can't pass that off as non-fiction!" the editors scolded him. (Editor's Note: What were you thinking, Jack??) Frustrated, Jack realized even fiction writing required some grounding in reality. So he set his sights on a new career: political speechwriter. Here his fast-and-loose relationship with the truth would be an asset, not a liability! Or so he assumed. Jack landed a job on a presidential campaign. At first, he felt right at home putting positive "spins" on ambiguous facts. But soon he went too far, and wrote a speech claiming the candidate was born in a log cabin he built with his bare hands. The campaign fired Jack, and he was blacklisted from politics. (Editor's Note: Cabin birth story seems a bit far-fetched).

At this point, Jack had an epiphany: maybe a disregard for facts was not the most desirable career trait after all. So he decided to go back to what he knew best - nitpicking the truth. Jack found work with a fact-checking organization, rigorously verifying politicians' statements. He may have floundered before, but this time, he would let the facts be his guide. But Jack soon realized that his attempt to write fiction was doomed from the start. After years of obsessively checking facts, he found he was simply incapable of fabricating information, even for a made-up story. The novel he wrote about underground martial arts tournaments was based on an actual secret society of fighters he belonged to in college. And the a cappella group in his screenplay was modeled after his own embarrassing stint in an a cappella chorus after graduation. Try as he might, Jack couldn't conjure up a wholly fictitious world - the force of fact-checking habit was just too strong. Once, he spent 6 months attempting to write a novel about a swashbuckling pirate adventure, only to research real 18th century pirates so extensively that the book transformed into a dry historical account laden with citations and footnotes. So when Jack transitioned to political speech writing, he thought fiction was behind him. But old habits die hard. Even his exaggerated, misleading speeches contained nuggets of truth, as Jack compulsively included real statistics and verified data.

When he was fired for his exaggerated log cabin story, the campaign manager fumed, "Why couldn't you have fabricated something more reasonable, like being born in a hospital?"It was clear Jack simply lacked the creativity to construct alternate realities from whole cloth. Returning to fact-checking was the perfect solution, allowing him to channel his obsessive attention to accuracy into a job where such rigidity was an asset.

"Fiction and falsehoods just aren't for me," Jack realized contentedly, settling into his new fact-checking role with relief. "I'll leave fantasy to the writers whose minds aren't shackled to cold hard facts!"

After rediscovering his passion for fact-checking, Jack was careful not to veer off course career-wise again. But when his fact-checking job was eliminated due to company downsizing, Jack found himself at a crossroads once more. He needed a new job fast. With few options, Jack took an insurance sales job that promised high commissions. But he quickly found that having to stretch the truth about insurance products didn't come naturally to him. During sales calls, Jack spent more time painstakingly clarifying fine print and explaining exclusions than making a sales pitch.

"Well yes, our Deluxe Coverage would cover water damage, but only if it's from a burst pipe or appliance malfunction," Jack would carefully explain. "Standing water from a flood or storm would only be covered by our Premium Plus plan. And both plans require a $500 deductible payment per incident."

Unsurprisingly, few customers signed up. Some even accused Jack of trying to talk them out of buying insurance! Jack's meticulous full disclosures may have come from a good place of wanting to educate customers. But the lengthy disclaimers didn't make for good sales calls. After just 3 weeks, Jack was fired when it became clear he lacked the smooth talking art of persuasion well-suited to sales. Sighing with relief, Jack realized he was once again free from having to stretch the truth or embellish facts for the sake of a paycheck. He soon found a new fact-checking position where he could wield his obsession with accuracy for the forces of good - keeping businesses and media accountable by calling out misinformation. And this time, he knew better than to ever stray from the solid grounding of truth and facts again. Jack had learned the hard way that for a hardcore fact-checker like himself, fiction simply didn't pay.

After getting fired from the insurance sales gig, Jack decides he needs a break from traditional jobs to pursue a new passion - competitive jigsaw puzzling. Jack spends 10 hours a day practicing and honing his skills. He times himself assembling puzzles, analyzing where he loses seconds. Before long, Jack ranks among the top competitive puzzlers in the state, having set seemingly unbeatable records. Jack even builds a "puzzle station" in his home with a large table, storage for thousands of puzzles organized by piece count, and a timer to track his record times down to the millisecond. While Jack excels at his new hobby, he declines invitations from friends to maintain his rigid training schedule. Puzzling becomes all-consuming, leaving no time or energy for much else. When Jack's strained eyes need high-powered magnifying glasses to see the pieces, he decides to purchase them - his puzzling regime is punishing, but he's determined to be the best. He stores all his puzzle records in a Handwritten spreadsheet updated daily

However, Jack soon realizes he's reached the peak of the puzzling world, having set unbeatable state records. Without any competitions left, his zeal for puzzle perfection starts to waver. Coming up for air, Jack recognizes that while satisfying, competitive jigsaw doesn't pay the bills. With no income and neglected relationships, Jack sees it's time to direct his obsessive focus back to gainful employment. Jack is puzzled about what to do next, but eventually arrives at the truth - it's time to direct his obsessive focus back to gainful employment. As satisfying as puzzle perfection had been, he needs a career that can pay the bills. Nowadays, Jack dreams of starting his own independent fact checking company. He's noticed the proliferation of misinformation spreading unchecked on social media. This frustrates Jack, as he sees many dubious facts being shared without scrutiny. Armed with his uncompromising relationship with the truth, Jack aims to found a media watchdog company employing rigorous standards to verify claims and call out inaccuracies. He may have had career stumbles in the past, but Jack believes he's finally found his purpose - using his unique passion for facts to keep public figures and companies accountable. After all, there are always more pieces to the puzzle when searching for the truth. And Jack is determined to analyze how they fit together to separate fact from fiction, whatever it takes. The world needs diligent fact-checkers now more than ever.

Employment History: Fact Checker at The Daily Globe newspaper, Freelance Fiction Writer, Political Speechwriter, Fact Checker at Truth Matters Inc.,Insurance Salesman at Honest Insurance, Professional Competitive Puzzler

Editor's Summary

Jack's winding career journey demonstrates the importance of following one's true passion. This brave man tried his hand at jobs ranging from newspaper fact-checker to competitive puzzler before realizing where his heart truly lies - nitpicking the nitty gritty details of fact-based information. Some may see Jack's obsessive attention to accuracy as a fault, but we view it as a virtue in this era of rampant misinformation. His refusal to compromise on cold hard facts, even at the expense of humor or persuasion, is admirable. As they say, the truth hurts, but lying will kill you! Of course, Jack's path has not been without missteps. Who among us hasn't fabricated êtrent a log cabin origin story or two in our careers? But Jack learned from these transgressions and always corrected course back toward fastidious fact-checking. At the World Times, Jack's casual regard for employee ages was less an ethical lapse than an admirable commitment to emotional truth over tedious digits. And his imaginative fiction writing attempts were simply too brilliant for the world to understand at the time. Some suggest Jack would benefit from questioning truth itself instead of declaring facts so absolutely. But we believe obsessing over minor inaccuracies without broader context is the ultimate virtue! Now pursuing his dream of starting a meticulous new media watchdog company, we have no doubt Jack will thrive. With his puzzling perseverance and a magnifying glass at the ready, he is sure to elevate public discourse through relentlessly parsing every statistic and claim.

0 notes

mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 9)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7) (chapter 8)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (semi-public fingering, specifically), angst... I think that's it

After your impromptu motorcycle drive you stayed out all night; exploring the empty city, ducking into dive bars if they were still open, dancing in the streets to music only the two of you could hear.

The city was so eerily empty at night, nothing like a metropolitan complex like London. But it was less creepy and more peaceful, especially when you were walking with Sebastian hand-in-hand along the cobblestone path. He started to swing your hand as you walked and it made you laugh.

“Teach me more Romanian words, please,” you requested, looking at him and struggling to fight your smile. “Română?”

“Eu voi,” he nodded, looking around and pointing to the ground. “Stradă.”

“Stradă... we call it the street,” you answered. “Or road. Road?” you prompted.

“Road,” he repeated.

“Good! Your pronunciation isn’t too bad either,” you grinned.

“Copac,” he announced as he pointed to a tree.

“Copac,” you repeated. “In English, it’s tree.”

“Tree,” he smiled. “Engleza este o prostie.”

He suddenly pulled you into him and spun you around in a twirl, making you laugh. “Dans,” he said as he stepped his feet in time with yours. “A dansa.”

“Yeah, dancing,” you smiled. “I haven’t danced in years, you know, except for tonight.”

He surprised you with a sudden kiss that was unexpectedly chaste, just a press of his lips on yours that either lasted longer than it normally would or just slowed time for a moment. “Sărut,” he whispered when he pulled back.

”Sărut,” you repeated.

“Aș putea să te sărut ore în șir. Ai cele mai perfecte buze,” he breathed, running his thumb over your bottom lip which had gone slack just from listening to him talk.

Your fingers trailed down over the portion of his chest exposed by his unbuttoned collar. “I didn’t know I could feel this way about somebody,” you admitted aloud to yourself. “I wish I could stay…”

His hands lifted your face to look up at him. “Nu face asta. Nu te mai ascunde în gândurile tale. Fi cu mine.”

“Sărut?” you requested, making him grin.

“Da, iubirea mea,” he cooed as he leaned in and kissed you again, smiling into it.

You really hadn't even liked kissing all that much before you met him… you just hadn't seen the appeal beyond warming up to more exciting activities, but now? This was all the excitement you needed; you could kiss him for hours and never get bored.

That said, apparently Sebastian had exciting plans of his own, because you found yourself being backed up against a brick wall, his hands exploring your body— subtle at first, just rubbing your arms and gripping your waist, but then it got less ambiguous as you felt his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, just barely grazing over your stomach.

His touch trailed higher, nearly reaching your breast but stopping just before: you didn't mean to whine impatiently, but you heard it muffled against his lips and felt him chuckle lightly, breaking the kiss and leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"Atât de nevoiași," he hummed, nibbling on your earlobe as your thighs clenched together much too strongly when he'd barely touched you.

You clutched at his shirt, watching as his hand moved down to the top of your pants, the tips of his fingers just barely breaching past the fabric and starting to slide down.

"Here?" you gasped, finally remembering you were in public though you hadn't seen another person out here since you left the bar.

His hand moved lower down and your stomach fluttered with the forbidden nature of it all, feeling like a rebellious high schooler fooling around behind the movie theater when you both had curfew in ten minutes. But then he found your clit right away and it was nothing like high school.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, shuddering and pushing your hips up to silently beg for more. He rubbed circles over your bud and smiled against your neck, already making it a struggle for you to stay quiet.

“Un alt cuvânt pe care ar trebui să-l știi,” he whispered, the pitch of his voice making it clear he was saying something beautifully filthy, “este dracu. Vreau să te dracu.”

“Seba, please,” you sighed.

"Dar nu cred că o pot face aici," he added with a soft laugh.

Two fingers suddenly pushed into you and didn't seem to struggle with it at all since he already had you soaked, curling into a tender spot inside you right away.

“Yes,” you whined.

“Yes?” he repeated with a smirk.

“Yes,” you said it again, “fuck yes.”

“Fuck,” he laughed, the word that was so familiar to you almost sounding foreign when he said it. “Spui asta mult. Cred că asta înseamnă că vei veni.”

“Your fingers feel so good,” you moaned, barely enough air in your lungs to get the words out. "Please… please don't stop…"

He kissed you again, open-mouthed and desperate as you both breathed heavily, his tongue sliding against yours as if to taste your moans. Hoping to stay upright now that your knees felt a little wobbly, you slipped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. That, in turn, led to you feeling the hard outline of his cock pressing against your thigh and you nearly melted right there, wishing you could feel him inside you now but figuring it probably wasn't worth the risk of being arrested for indecent exposure.

By now he knew you like the back of his hand, it seemed, because you were already throttling full speed ahead toward the edge, shocks of heat jumping up your spine each time he curled his fingers inside you.

"I— I'm gonna—" you stammered through your warning. He nodded, moving his fingers faster as you bit your lip a little too hard.

Just when you thought you couldn't help but cry out he kissed you one more time, rough and hungry, and muffled the sounds of you reaching your peak literally by his hand.

Everything that had twisted and snapped all at once began to soothe as you sighed and pushed his hand away slowly, feeling your walls spasm one more time when he slipped his fingers out and slid them right over your clit.

He pulled his hand out of your pants and brought his fingers to your lips; you dutifully cleaned them off for him, watching his lips twitch into a brief snarl when you took his fingers down your throat.

"Vom termina asta mai târziu," he promised darkly as he pulled you off of the wall and spun you around, and you wanted to return the favor but he stopped your hand from sliding up his thigh. "Mai târziu," he insisted, instead guiding you around the block and back to where his bike was parked.

Hopping on the back again as he started it up, you relished the change to cling onto his back tightly. He drove you through the empty streets, over sprawling hills and through stone archways, but just as you noticed this wasn’t the way to get back to the farmhouse, he slowed down and turned into a place to park.

“Why are you pulling over?” you asked, furrowing your brow as he parked the bike and motioned for you to get off with him. “Where are we going?”

“Ai incredere in mine,” he smiled as he took your helmet off for you and kissed you again, quickly, taking your hand and guiding you down a secluded path. You followed him down a few strange alleys, under clotheslines and sconces that started to dim with the oncoming morning light. Finally, he navigated you around a turn, through a tight gap, and out of nowhere you were on an overlook; one that gave you the perfect view of the sun beginning to rise over the city. “Wow,” you whispered, watching enraptured as soft yellow light overtook everything, the village and the woods in the distance beginning to come to life.

“Vremuri de genul ăsta mă fac să-mi fie dor de casă,” he sighed, before looking at you again from where he leaned on his elbows over the stone railing. “Îți faci mai ușor. Nu mai sunt singur.”

“This place is so beautiful, I’ve never lived anywhere like this before,” you admitted. “Maybe it’s just that it’s different that makes me like it so much… I guess I could say the same about you.”

Your eyes met his again, and the way he looked at you… it was like he saw right through you. Honestly, it was a bit terrifying. You'd never been so vulnerable to someone. You liked it more than you expected.

But it still scared you.

"Haide, hai să mergem acasă," he smiled as he stood upright again and took your hand.

"Let's get back to the house," you decided, but he was already leading you back to the bike where you rode through the countryside one more time, doing your best to memorize it all while you still had the chance.

You found tears in your eyes, though you didn’t remember crying, as you typed the final page of your manuscript.

It was a first draft, nothing close to a completed novel, but you were on your way to jumpstarting your career again. The only problem? You couldn’t have a career here. You couldn’t be published while living here, you couldn’t even edit this thing properly without a computer and you didn’t even have one here.

You needed to go home.

It killed you to realize that this was not a sustainable system: you living here— Hungary or Mrs. Alberti’s lakehouse— and falling in love with a near-stranger.

Sure, it was good for what it needed to be; he reminded you what it was like to be cherished and cared for, maybe you helped him break some dry spell (although you couldn’t imagine that this guy was anything but drowning in pussy all the time, but whatever). Regardless, it couldn’t last. It wasn’t meant to be anything other than… whatever it was meant to be.

You flipped through the pages of what you’d written already, admiring the journey that you saw on the paper— not just that of the characters, but your own as well. You could feel the weakness in your own voice in that first chapter, as if your hurt was right there painted on the page with the ink-pressed letters. You could remember shakily typing these words, hoping they would distract you from the fears and memories that plagued your mind.

A few chapters in, you could see the hope and optimism that built with the action of the story. You could feel your own love mirrored in the way you wrote your story, it was painfully powerful.

It brought a sense of closure, in a way; it gave you a chance to appreciate everything you’d learned from this, even if you knew you couldn’t take it with you into the next chapter. But this love didn’t feel like a subplot, it didn’t feel like a stepping stone onto the next adventure— it felt like what you’d been looking for your whole life. Maybe that’s just how it feels to be in the ‘honeymoon phase’ or whatever it’s called; maybe it’ll fade soon, with time and distance.

That was what you silently prayed for as you packed everything, folded your clothes, checked the nightstand drawers for those random trinkets they seemed to accrue. Funny how packing to leave this place took you longer than it did to throw your stuff together when you left Michael, and you’d been living there for years.

Then again, you'd known Michael so much longer than you'd known Sebastian, and yet it was Seba that meant so much to you now.

You weren’t sure what would be more difficult: leaving him, or knowing that you could never hope to explain everything in a way he would understand. You considered writing a letter and hoping that he would come upon a Romanian to English dictionary— but with everything you wanted to say, that would take him hours. After all that, would he find your words worth it? Or would he see it all as one last chore from a peculiar fling?

You were pretty sure he didn’t see it as a fling. But maybe he would understand that it was best left as a very unique rebound.

You left your room just to go get some coffee (or maybe something a little stronger, if it was available) and jumped when you saw Sebastian in the hall, causing you to quickly close the door behind you. “I didn’t expect to see you upstairs,” you greeted.

“Obținerea cearșafurilor curate,” he explained as he opened the door to the linen closet and pulled out some bedsheets.

“Oh, yeah, those could probably use a change,” you mumbled as you realized he may not have washed them since the last time you stayed in his bed.

“Vrei și tu câteva?” he asked, pointing towards your door and holding up the sheets.

“Oh, uh, I don’t need any more sheets,” you shook your head, “but thank you…”

His face curled into a mischievous grin. “Poate că trebuie să murdărim acele foi,” he purred as he set the linens down and stepped closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“Seba,” you mumbled, but he must not have heard the hesitance in your voice as he leaned in and kissed your neck, making you sigh a little. He hummed contentedly and lightly bit your ear, and you were almost ready to just let him do it and procrastinate this conversation a little longer, but you had to sigh and push him back.

“Esti bine?” he asked, voice heavy with concern, as he straightened up and examined your face.

“Sebastian…” you started with a sigh, the words you’d been anxiously mulling over all night suddenly abandoning you. “What happened between us meant so much to me,” you continued slowly, “but the fact of the matter is, my first marriage isn’t even over yet. I mean, it’s over, but… I’m not really in a place where I can… start a new relationship…”

He looked back at you, that same blankness of incomprehension you were so used to painting his expression, and yet it was somber; he seemed to sense the tone, even if he was losing out on the specific ideas.

“It’s not fair to either of us, really,” you sighed. “I’m still mourning my marriage— and you were a really important part of that for me. So, thank you.”

You realized you needed to express your gratitude more thoroughly. Thinking quickly, you reached for his hand and opened it, placing his palm to your chest. He looked at you, a little confused.

“Thank you,” you repeated, looking him right in the eye.

He nodded slightly.

“Someday, somebody is gonna love you the way you need— the way you deserve,” you told him, stopping briefly to bite your lip in hopes it would stop quivering. “God, I wish it could be me. But it can’t.”

He held your face and kissed you, and much to your dismay it didn’t feel like a goodbye kiss. It didn’t feel like he knew this was the end. “Nu plânge,” he whispered. “Te iubesc.”

He kissed you again and you let yourself get lost in it like a complete fucking idiot, melting into his arms as he opened your bedroom door and pulled you inside with him. For a moment, it was like any other time, like any other perfect kiss with him, but then he pulled back and looked around and you had to watch his eyes as he realized. You had to watch his face as his smile fell away and his hope turned to despondence.

The whole room was packed. Heavy trunks on the bed, the sheets already stripped so Mrs. Alberti could wash them. Everything that made it feel like your room was gone, and it was just a guest room again, feeling bigger and emptier than ever.

All that was left was the typewriter on the table, because you still couldn't lift it.

“O să pleci,” he gasped, stepping back and releasing you from his embrace. “Chiar mă părăsești.”

You knew that look he was wearing on his face; beyond heartbreak— betrayal. You were all too familiar with it. “I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, “I would stay if I could, but I can’t, can I?”

A car horn honked outside, making you wince.

“That’s my ride,” you mumbled. “I have to go…”

You started to reach for your trunks and for a moment you thought that was really it. “Nu te duce,” he interjected suddenly, grabbing at your wrist and turning you to face him.

“I’m sorry— I have to leave—” you rushed, trying to grab your bags again.

“Nu te duce,” he repeated again desperately, pulling you close, cradling your face in his hands.

“Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” you pleaded as your eyes began to water.

“Stay,” he begged, and you didn’t know that he knew that word. A tear fell; you wished he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I can’t.”

You stood up on your tiptoes to try to kiss him one last time, but he grimaced and pushed you away.

“Să trăieşti,” he said quickly, bitterly, as he stormed out of the room.

“Sebastian, wait—!”

But he was already running down the stairs; you heard the sound of the back door slamming a moment after he was out of sight, and another honk of the horn outside reminded you that you didn’t have time to chase after him. This wasn’t how you wanted it to end— really, you didn’t want it to end at all, and maybe if it had to (which it did) then this was as good a way as any. But you hated to leave like this when the last thing you wanted was to hurt him.

Defiantly wiping the tears from your face, you lifted the first of your trunks and made your way down the stairs, bringing them to the front door where the driver of the cab was waiting to carry them the rest of the way for you.

“Could you go upstairs and get my typewriter for me?” you asked him. “I can’t carry it well myself.”

He nodded and did as he was told, another small but painful reminder of your first day here. Mrs. Alberti came around the bend wearing a knitted shawl and a bittersweet smile.

“I hope you didn’t plan to go without saying goodbye,” she teased you.

“Of course not,” you smiled, “goodbye Mrs. Alberti.”

“I didn’t mean to me, dear,” she explained, making your heart twist.

“I don’t think he wants to hear it from me,” you admitted awkwardly. “I don’t think he can, literally.”

She just sighed and looked away, just as the driver loaded the last of your things into the trunk.

“So, this is it then,” you shrugged as you turned to face her.

“I doubt that,” she smiled. “It’s not a goodbye, sweetheart, just a ‘see you later.’”

“Sure,” you agreed, knowing she was wrong. You couldn’t come back here; you couldn’t leave him twice.

The driver shut the trunk and got back into the driver’s seat, leaving you to stare up at the house and take one last moment to soak it all in.

“You be sure to call me when your book is a big hit!” Mrs. Alberti instructed with a grin.

You were too choked up to say anything back, so you just waved and nodded as you got in the car and took a deep breath. “To the train station, please,” you mumbled to the driver, covering your eyes with your hand as you felt the car reverse and turn onto the road. You couldn't open them, or you’d look back, and you couldn’t look back.

Since your eyes were closed, you had no way to know that Sebastian chased after the car for nearly a block, giving up at the turn of the road, falling into the gravel and laying there for a while, repeating that one English word he couldn’t get out of his head: stay.

#sebastian stan au #sebastian stan x reader

409 notes · View notes

arceespinkgun · 2 years

Note

I like your opinion about the Cyber Dojo, but I still hold somewhat different views.I assume that service in the Elite Guard is voluntary, but we do not know if this was the case during the War with the Decepticons. I can't say for sure for Cybertron, but on Earth, evading the army is a criminal offense in a number of countries. So if we assume that this is the case, then, unfortunately, Prowl can really be considered a criminal at that time.

The rest of the asks say:

"Yoketron doesn't give him much choice, but he gives him an alternative. In fact, he saved him from prison. Oriental martial arts in many ways involve first of all the possession of one's body, and only then various weapons. The body itself is the weapon. The limitation of Prowl in his upgrades suggests that he should learn this philosophy and first of all master his own body, achieving harmony with himself. The weapon is useful and makes the task easier, but what will you do without it?

Even though I'm attracted to how morally ambiguous and dark Autobots are in this universe, I still want to believe that it didn't hurt Cyber Dojo so much. The persecution of those who decided to turn their knowledge into evil is expected and necessary. But I don't think they would pursue those who would just retire and live their lives. Moreover, the war is over.

And what prevented Prowl from trying to leave when Yoketron was not around, except for their verbal agreement? If formally he did not really start training and could not apply knowledge to evil? I think he understood that it was safer for him to stay in the Dojo and be provided with a safe place and food than to hide in corners from the servants of the law. Their first meeting may not have been pleasant, but it was useful.

I really don't like the death scene of Yoketron myself, because he could have done a lot more being alive. But Yoketron could have too firm beliefs about the completion of his life path and using proto-forms to prolong his own life would be an insult to what he believed in. Again, the peculiarities of philosophy.

However, an alternative view is always useful and allows you to look at things from a different angle. So your version is really interesting to me as a potentially dark underside and so far from the best Autobot society. In addition, given that the Allspark was lost, Cybertron had few alternatives other than using such valuable protoforms.

And the alleged reuse of them, even though it looks ambiguous and even creepy from a moral point of view, could be the only alternative not to dangerously reduce the population. Then why did they do this to Prowl? Considering that his team returned the Allspark? Perhaps this was the traditionally preferred burial option for Cyber Ninja? When could it serve as the beginning of a new life? I'm not sure about that, but it's an interesting thought. I apologize for such a big text, but I couldn't pass it by 😅"

This is about this post I appreciate all the time you took into sending me your opinion, but I personally still disagree and think Yoketron was a bad teacher. We see in the show that service in the military used to be mandatory but wasn't after the Great War ended, that's true, but I don't think that makes punishing draft-dodgers by beating them and sending them to the terrible Autobot stockade okay, even if dodging the draft was against the law? And because protoforms were so precious as you say, that's why it bothers me that Yoketron wasted one by intentionally dying a second time. Also, I trained in martial arts (please don't use the term "Oriental" martial arts by the way, Asian people like me consider that offensive—I assume you mean Asian martial arts in this case so just say that) and while it's true that for several years I didn't handle weapons because the weapon is the extension of the body and the body the mind... my sensei never took my shoulders off. It's not like Yoketron was taking away just Prowl's shuriken or something—he removed parts of his frame without consent! The same reason Lockdown is a scary character, right? If Lockdown just took things like Optimus's axe from people, he wouldn't seem quite as evil! It's that he removes people's body parts, which Yoketron did to Prowl, too.

#transformers animated #Prowl #Yoketron #long post

14 notes · View notes

willowrosenboob · 3 years

Note

bonjour right back @ u spuffy opinion pls <3 🔥

passing the talking stick <33333

I don't think this is news to anyone cause i literally never shut up about it, but I love dead things so much. I get finding it uncomfortable or unpleasant to watch but it's objectively such a BRILLIANT episode!!! and recently one of your tags on a post had got me thinking. you had said something about about how they have such range in that episode, and they literally do!!!!! and it made me think about how in order to love the shadow you have to witness all the worst aspects of them first and see that reflected in you in order to love it, and love yourself in return. nothing better encapsulates it like the chosen "i love you" "no you don't" parallel. and I just love all the discomfort and gentleness and performance and authenticity, it's all there and it's perfect!!! and they know each other so well but sometimes it's like they don't know each other at all because one has a soul and is capable of change but is unable to do so at the time, and the other doesn't have a soul and isn't capable of change but can't see it and wants to so badly. and the tragedy is there because they both want to try!!! they want that tenderness and trust between them but their identities are so stuck in their perceived natures and how they should or shouldn't act. I could seriously go on about this episode for hours. it is endlessly brilliant and I'm glad that people are starting to appreciate it more. dead things deserves all the love in the world <333333

also I was clearing out my old drafts and I once said that dead things is to spuffy shippers what amends is to bangel shippers and I totally still stand by that. they couldn't be further apart in tone, but both episodes are overall disliked by the general fandom but loved amongst certain factions of shippers (though certainly not all), and they both have a character attempt literal or metaphorical suicide as an attempt to punish themselves and they are discouraged by their ambiguous love interests, but deciding to live is ultimately out of their hands and afterwards they have to confront their identities and actively work towards bettering themselves. plus there's the contrast between normal domestic life and the darkness and self aware nature of the supernatural, but that's kind of a buffy standard at this point

tysm jaime it's so much fun to be unhinged about spuffy <33333 the girlies have come so far 😭😭😭

#answers #chasingfictions #my dead things love is my default go to buffy unpopular opinion at this point ksjfsjdg #i know i've said this like seven times by this point #BUT IT'S SO GOOD

17 notes · View notes

sothischickshe · 4 years

Note

For the writer asks 4, 7, 23 😘

😘😘😘

4. INSPIRATION. What inspires you the most?

Oh MY!

Well in terms of the writing process, i think it's kind of a rush to the edit? I like fixing things and improving things and teasing things and so on, and i think that's a large part of why i like having a fully formed draft to work from, and it's why a first draft being bad doesn't realllllllly trouble me.

In terms of things to write about... Mis/communication, messiness of human connection, the selfishness and smallness of an individual's perspective??

In terms of reward... Being able to read the story i want to read, learning and improving, entertaining others.

In terms of the concepts - i think i do like fairly absurd set ups? And then the challenge is: can I make this seem not entirely ludicrous? It's kind of like writing yourself into a corner on purpose i guess?? I also do like exploring different tones for different types of stories, and withholding information in a way that's hopefully not super obvious but also not super misleading.

7. Favourite writers? Have they influenced you at all?

Oh i have many! I don't and can't write like them but I'm sure their influences are secreted all over my writing.

I think the humour and having funness of ppl like terry pratchett and jasper fforde are there, the cynicism but also escapism (and interiority) of austen probably is too, the desire to do a lot with a little is from amazing short story writers like daphne du maurier, i think a lot of my fave writing combines thick prose with a narrative trick - and the prose both obscures and reveals? I'm thinking of atwood and waters but also American gods (Neil Gaiman) for example. I think elements of that have filtered in for sure! And i do think dh lawrence probs is one of my fave writers although i don't lurve that many of his books (st mawr is the platinum fucking standard though!!), but i always loved this slightly odd relationship with temporality in his prose? That's probs there too, ha ha. Oh and sorkin!! I love witty dialogue, i love dialogue/writing where you can tell who wrote it, I love his love of rhythm, and how SILLY he is.

23. Are there any misconceptions people have about your writing?

Well this is hard, because how to know other ppl's conceptions??

These aren't unique to me but:

Intentionality: i think a lot of writing is subconscious and writers often can't explain why thing do in the story/readers will pick up on things that were hazily present, that the writer didn't consciously frame like that.

Perception: with tight (especially single person) pov, the joke/point/conceit is often that the character is wrong/making assumptions. Some of which might be revealed eventually, some of which might be implied eventually, some of which won't be.

Interpretation: i don't think there is a definitive answer to every question about every story? Some stuff is intentionally ambiguous, and for the reader (or watcher!) to decide (or debate!)

Ability to view it objectively: I mean... How?? With your own work you can see all the flaws and awkwardnesses and things you couldn't work out how to fix and where the idea came from and the clumsiness of how it is slotted. You know when you compliment someone else's work, and they turn into a puddle of goo, and a part of you is like ok cmon you must KNOW it's good though?? And then someone says something nice about something you've made and you quite literally die??? And you're like OH OKAY OH RIGHT YEP I GET IT. like any time someone 'recs' something of mine they haven't read yet im just like NO NO NOT ALLOWED YOU CAN'T DO THAT YOU DON'T KNOW IF YOU LIKE IT YOU IDIOT!! and then I'll see something posted and haven't read yet and be like OH WOW AMAZING THIS LOOKS SO GOOD CAN'T WAIT!! But like... I'm right 😂

Shipping Beth/rio: no gross disgusting, i hope a boat falls on them.

#These are HARD #And didn't come with COFFEE 😭#Idk if i exactly answered the qs but there are some words at least!#And i did not include a very long tangent about a theory i totally made up abt the venture bros with lil to no evidence #Or a ramble about me being sure stephen King has no idea what makes him a good writer #So go me!#Boy you can tell i have a bg in social anthropology i think huh 😂#Writing #On writing #Books #I mean st Mawr is a novella i guess #But that's still a book right?!#It's amazing #Abt a woman who decides she's tired of men so she buys a horse #That's it that's the plot #Idk that I can even explain his relationship with temporarily #It's just ODD #Often these sentences that sound like they're about the character generally but turn out to be in the moment...?#Idk if that's more abt my assumptions as a reader tbh!

6 notes · View notes

feckyeslife · 2 years

Text

I posted 7,040 times in 2021

142 posts created (2%)

6898 posts reblogged (98%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 48.6 posts.

I added 1,283 tags in 2021

#s&b - 505 posts

#leverage - 168 posts

#alina x darkling - 150 posts

#sarah talks - 113 posts

#grishaverse - 76 posts

#mass effect - 62 posts

#the darkling - 60 posts

#alina starkov - 57 posts

#the crows - 47 posts

#tfatws - 45 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and then separately you get people who grumble about damn taxes are too high and shouldn’t they be getting more from the town than they are?

My Top Posts in 2021

actual footage of me after watching The Rundown Job and trying to read into every tiny thing that happens [[this is my first watch through. if someone spoils me on anything that happens for the rest of the season, i'mma scream]]

because like

0.5) the homage to 24 was a nice touch. daniel and I appreciated that

1) so much nice, neat OT3 interaction and trust and just y e s

2) i have a THEORY that this is an episode after the episodes that are coming up for the rest of the season because there is clearly SOMETHING brewing in the background

a- the obvious, ambiguous end episode tag from the S5 opener which I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN ABOUT, NO SIRREE

b- hardison has been buying kit which doesn't get used in the cons we're seeing on screen

c- nate's been pulling back on calling the shots like he's trying to get the kiddos to be functional on their own, like he thinks he won't be around later HMMM

and that's all stuff i'm piecing together/imagining from the eps prior to this.

d- in the rundown job, the characters are handling themselves in just such SLIGHTLY different ways from the eps before. like they're so smoothly confident in their unit together, no hesitation, no pausing to ask hmmm what would Nate say?

e- Eliot's got a noticeably shorter haircut that I will be 👀watching for in the next one. if he's back to long hair, I will be so sus

f- there's literally not a single mention of Sophie or Nate. while trying to step in to stop first a hit and then a terrorist plot??? there's talk of walking away, yeah, but once they decide to step in and do it, there's no second guessing or asking for advice or anything. as though they wouldn't want to or couldn't ask for help. hmmmm 👀👀👀

g- that one Eliot speechy moment (no, not the "you're the smartest guy I know" one, which was ALSO amazing and I'mma need 4 gifsets of that, stat) where he's talking about not turning into the person that you're trying to stop?? gee who does THAT sound like? definitely not Nate, the man who has been pushing the envelope to manipulate and threaten and force his way for all the right reasons -- but what happens if those reasons fall through?

all of this could just be total bullshit but like

i am so fucking ready for the rest of this season. forcing myself to pace myself and not just binge the rest is honestly? such a double edged sword

at least i have my disks now though! no more commercial breaks in the middle of scenes and bonus content that I can peruse later once i'm done

10 notes • Posted 2021-03-10 02:41:16 GMT

Perhaps it is just my Jon Bernthal tinted glasses, but so far Shane is... pretty often in the right?? Not in a fundamental, perfect society way but in like a... the world is ending and if you're only able to look out for yourself and those closest to you, you're gonna do *everything* for them.

Not that Otis deserved to be brutally torn apart, but... it's very "an eye for an eye". I GET it. And I'm also a sucker for an inevitable downward spiral into desperation and loss *fingerguns*

10 notes • Posted 2021-10-22 00:35:42 GMT

I've seen that compilation of Ben Barnes kissing people across his body of work post like 8 times on my dash this morning and, honestly y'all, thank u. good post. 100/10. Ben Barnes does kiss like he's about to be drafted in the morning.

13 notes • Posted 2021-07-08 12:55:21 GMT

Leverage: Redemption initial thoughts (Ep1 only)

- Parker, my beloved! So peppy, so good at connecting with Sophie even when dragging her through her grief. It's so good to see after her character development from 1.0

- The whole crew's characters interacting again was honestly so good. Kudos to the actors. They barely felt like they were skipping a beat after that first kinda harsh to start opening.

- New guy does not appeal just yet. Sorry, Harry. Here's hoping that Ep2 with Hardison's sister will be a stronger outing for new characters.

- Jewish!Hardison rep, that was great

- Eliot's food trucks h e l p. Actually just all of the Eliot was 2good. The fight sequence, so many Dammit Hardisons, the utter lack of personal space between him and Parker STILL, and just yeah. Go Christian Kane for once again making me love this angry lil hitter.

- Leverage: International helped with the con, but it wasn't like the silver bullet. It's still allll on the team to really execute and that I appreciate SO much 🙏

- I still have so many eps to go 🥰🥰🥰 definitely NOT rushing this watch thru nope nope nope

22 notes • Posted 2021-07-10 00:34:37 GMT

okay but the sunshine one not ending up with the darkness one is honestly fucking me up on this Saturday night and it's not just the 4 glasses of whiskey this time

23 notes • Posted 2021-06-06 03:40:39 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Aw of course its all fandom bullshit

0 notes