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#this book makes me feel insane! easily the best book i have EVER read
monstrouswomen · 5 months
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[...] I googled The Book of the City of Ladies and found a series of miniature paintings from one of the editions of the book. One of them depicts Pizan kneeling before Isabeau, a French queen who'd often rule during her husband's spells of mental illness, and giving her one of her books.
Marguerite de Navarre had more than once been depicted similarly, presenting a book she had written to another woman, and it is a motif I recognized from my own life: an image of consensus that could be either enticing or discouraging. An image from the world of women. A universe shared between two people of the same sex, between reading and writing, captured in a brief scene. It was the other side of not counting, not belonging to the regular world but to the world of women.
Detail of a presentation miniature with Christine de Pizan presenting her book to Queen Isabeau of Bavaria. Illuminated miniature from The Book of the Queen. | passage from The Bear Woman, Karolina Ramqvist, tr. Saskia Vogel
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m0nsterqzzz · 2 months
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Something Stupid
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pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader
summary: and then she goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like...."I love you."
content: absolute teeth rotting fluff. pining for each other but wandas is much more intense? tiniest bit of blackhill if you squint.
a/n: had this idea for a while, and I actually kinda like it??? idk. first time for everything. reader is referred to as "sweets" like twice just because I love the nickname. it's what my boyfriend calls me. anyway. love yall!!
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Wanda Maximoff loves you.
She’s known that for years.
She’s known it since she first became an avenger and felt a strange urge to gain your forgiveness over everyone else's after what her and her late-brother Pietro did during the battle against Ultron.
She knew it when you became her best friend, teaching her how to control her magic and really just how to enjoy life.
She knew it when she had to watch as you got ready for dates with people that would never live up to your standards. Not she thought she would live up to your standards- no, she knew she couldn't- but she did know she treat you better then any of those no good pigs who are just looking for a fuck buddy ever good. The witch wouldn’t go up against your suitors though, just standing on the sidelines as her heart slowly breaks faster and faster the more you don’t see her in the same light you do them.
Little she did she know, she was the only one you truly wanted.
So finally, Wanda worked up the courage to ask you out so she no longer had to cry into her pillow while you were out sucking face with someone else.
Surprisingly, you agreed easily. The only thing you had to say was that she had to promise it wouldn’t change anything between you guys for the worse. If it didn’t work, you guys couldn’t become like Natasha and Maria. (those girls can’t be in the same room as each other for more than 2 seconds without making a backhanded comment about their four week long situationship)
The Maximoff girl agreed, eagerly setting up a dinner date.
It had quickly gone wrong.
The reservation was somehow not in the book despite the fact that Wanda called the fancy dinner place with insane prices about six times in the hour-long drive there. So you told her it was fine, that you’d be happy with some food from the delicious Thai place down the road as long as you were with her. But they were out of your favorite and Wanda ate so much that she felt ready to barf as you guys walked out of the restaurant- that was before she actually did barf in the parking lot. 
Finally, you guys headed to a bar near the Avengers tower for a quick nightcap, but that quickly turned into you both downing two drinks each before stumbling onto the dance floor.
A sweet looking old man who’s been reading a comic book in the corner sees you two and decides to put his own change in the jukebox and press play on a slow, but peaceful song. He sends you guys a smile, winking Wanda's way before he continues to read about some cool looking superheroes.
Wanda’s hands fall to your waist, gently gripping them as you both sway. Your head falls to lay on her shoulder, arms wrapped around the back of her neck as the music fills your ears. Her breath is on the back of your neck, warm, but it doesn’t even begin to compare to the feeling of her lips as she places a gentle kiss in that same spot. 
Then she goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like, “I love you, sweets.”
You roll your eyes, thinking back to how many times people have told you that during first dates just to get in your pants. Though you will admit that when you hear Wanda say it, it brings a small, warm, fluttering feeling to your chest, and you manage to let out a small giggle before you say, “No you don't. You don’t love me Wanda. You like me. There’s a difference.”
She fights the urge to tell you that she knows there is a difference between love and like. She knows that because she’s felt both those ways towards you. Why can’t you just understand that so she doesn’t have to find a way to put it into words?
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After a few days of her saying the same thing and you never believing her, the witch realizes she has to put it in words. Nothing else is capable of explaining how she feels about you. How she’s felt for so long.
So she recruits Natasha and Clint for help, and they spend the day working on some speeches. By 2pm, she has this;
“Are you from Tennessee? Cuz you’re the only ten-I-see.” - A line from Natasha which she used on Maria who was passing by at that moment just to prove to Wanda it works. (Natasha left and was found leaving the agents room an hour later. Apparently that’s back on)
“I love you.” - Clint Barton, the stupidest man on earth. There is a reason people call him bird brain. They were there because the three words are not enough to describe what she feels towards you. Did he even read what was on the brunch invitation? It clearly stated; “fixing Wanda's love life; no I love you’s, no magic town in which she controls so she can make Sweets fall in love with her against their will.”
“Hey, do you have wifi? Cuz I’m really feeling a connection.” - Natasha. She once again used it on Maria and was gone for another two hours. Can someone please address this?
“Start listing facts about the baby turtles you saved. Always gets the ladies.” - from Tony, who was walking by the living room and decided now was the best time to interrupt. He has never once gotten close enough to endangered animals to be able to ‘save’ them, but we can pretend if he wants too.
“Are you a beaver? Cuz dam.” - Natasha. (someone needs to restrain Maria from jumping the redheads bones. She is literally needed at this meeting.)
So, as we can see, no one is any help. 
She decides after that to just go with her gut, and her gut is telling her that you’ll know when the time is right, and hopefully will send her a sign.
Maybe the sign is sooner rather than later.
The witch spends about an hour in her bedroom in front of her mirror, trying on every outfit from sweats and a t-shirt to the 10,000 dollar dress Tony bought her for her birthday. Which clothes would draw your attention to her? She thinks about that alot, which is why she wears different outfits everyday simply in hopes of you sending her a small compliment. She always spends countless amounts of time planning the perfect outfit just to hear you say, “You look pretty Wans.”
Why is this happening to her?
It’s when she sets up a cute little picnic under the stars with all your favorite foods and snacks and a makeshift tv screen with a projector to watch your favorite film do you realize that you are deeply and utterly in love with Wanda Maximoff.
She’s sweet, and pretty. She can always make you laugh when you truly think you no longer can.
And besides all that, she’s your best friend. The one that will stick with you through thick and thin simply because she wants to be beside you.
You can’t help but feel your cheeks beginning to heat up every single time she even glances in your direction, let alone actually speak to you. You can feel your stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and nerves as she just… exists.
You don’t tell her that though, afraid of getting your feelings hurt.
You just sit down on the nice thick blanket with her, grabbing some grapes to give a few to her and a few to herself as she presses play on the movie. It’s silent other than the sound of the movie, but she can hear your thoughts louder than any film. It’s not like she’s trying to read your mind. The witch vowed to herself to never use her magic on you unless it was necessary or life saving. That includes mind reading. Your thoughts are too loud though, and even with the amount of control she has over her powers, they still fill her head as she tries to focus on the movie.
“I love her.”
“She says she loves you.”
“She doesn’t mean it.”
“Yes she does.”
“No she doesn’t.”
“It doesn’t matter. I love her.”
Your internal battle on if she truly does love you or not breaks her heart into a million pieces, though she doesn’t want to call you out on it and make you feel uncomfortable. So you guys continue silently watching the movie. She doesn’t mention your loud thoughts, and you don’t mention that you can feel her eyes burning into the side of your face as she stares.
When the movie is over and the projector turns off, you guys sit in the darkness of the night. There are stars dressing the night sky, so you silently look at them as Wanda turns on her side so she can gently pull you closer to her. 
The moment is perfect; looking up at the stars in each other's warm embrace, your back pressed against her front and she moves around until she snuggles her head into the crook of your neck, so close to you that your perfume fills her senses and puts her into a peaceful bliss. Your truly happy as is she, and this time, as she says the tree words, you find yourself believing her;
“I love you.”
She doesn’t regret it or cringe out of embarrassment when she says it like she did last time. The witch just lets the words hang in the air. If you choose to say them back, you do. If not, at least you'll understand how much she truly means it.
“I love you.” You whisper back with new found confidence, and her chest fills with warmth and pure happiness. You finally believe her. Her words sounded so sincere and simple, not like the drunk words she said a few days ago. It’s the only reason you feel okay telling her the truth. You love Wanda Maximoff.
“I love you.” She mumbles, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
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You could drink your whole life away and still never get that taste out of your mouth.
half commission for @salempie half completely self indulgent dreck pieced together from our insane conversations abt franke and elka. told myself id finally write a big explanation for all of the dum shit between these two for context so Thats Under The Cut.
so I already wrote some stuff about elka and franke's relationship back in whispering rock so feel free to look at that too . it goes over elkas blindness/‘seeing’ with clairvoyance and how her and franke started talking & all that good stuff
SO FOR STARTERS. a lot of thsi wont make sense without a big breakdown of elka herself. because elkas potential as a character is like insane to me. like just the idea of her in the long run of her life reads as something so potentially tragic; a young girl whos plagued with visions of doom and destined to be an outcast even in her own home for things she cant control and clings to the One vision of her wedding that she thinks is 'happy' even despite the fact she doesnt really love the person in it. im choosing to take the li-po doc as canon here because its funny shes the only one with backstory-
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but my fucking god even the smallest look into what her parents are like is soo fucked up to me. and i do think elka especially gets a lot of influence from her mother; its funny how easily you can fit mabel doom into a box just from what elka says about her. knees deep in an avon-esque pyramid scheme and leaning into her daughters depressing ass visions & taking her to therapy at age 11 (which would be good if not for the kind of person you can already assume she is & so i doubt the therapist she has really does her any good. i think they share one). she reads as a very I Am My Daughters Best Friend type of mom to me and i can see elka being a centerpiece of the conversation when she has her Amway Girls over for drinks. wine-mom that lets her kid sip from the glass so she can feel like a big girl type deal.
and you can tell that elka is trying to hard to be too mature for her age even in her campster posts. how she writes letters to nils' mom and exchanges baking recipes with her and that feels like she really only interacts with middle aged women and not really many people her own age outside of camp (like her moms friends). which makes sense shed feel the need to ‘grow up’ early when shes probably had to process so many hard things at a young age bc of her visions.
theres a lot of filling the blanks here of course.
elka obsesses over nils to an overbearing degree even despite the fact he treats her like shit ('you promised no talking' and so on) and she treats him bad right back. she leans onto stereotypical heterosexual ideals like taking care of him and overblowing how Manly and Protective JT is and she admires romance stories like pride and prejudice and it feels like she Projects Soooooooo much of what she wants onto boys she barely feels anything for without knowing what its actually supposed to feel like. and clearly she WANTS that ideal future, a happy marriage, an actual romance- but according to nils even when they were dating she ignored him most of the time, which just seems Very Telling
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like shes filling a role, overcompensating for emotions and lacktherof she cant digest quite yet, and it only makes more sense when you know shes had visions of their future together. how could that be bad for her? shouldnt it be like the books and movies? but she doesnt really connect the fact that her visions are only for Doomed futures, and if she does she certainly doesnt show it. Doomed relationships. it's been a part of her family for generations and she isn't turning out much different, is she? i dont think she even realizes thats all she ever sees yet, just that its Going to happen. that it's Her future, and it always will be
and like, her only reference for a real marriage so far has been her own parents, and she already Knows they have an affair, and theyre doomed to split, (and i actually like to think they were in rough waters anyway and elka was a child meant to mend a crumbling marriage but thats a whole other thing) and so without a framework for what an actual healthy relationship is supposed to be like she cant really grasp that her relationship with nils Isnt that and isnt ever going to be. she can only cling to this one happy idea of the future, and thats why she keeps chasing him, self fulfilling the actuality of her situation and creating and fostering the unhappy life they will inevitably live together.
and that bleeds into everything else in her life, of course, because as the years go on, as the visions grow in number it just makes sense for her to fall into the predictability of her life. she always knows whats going to happen, her visions are Never wrong- so why try to change things? shes had time to process tragedies days, weeks, months, years before they happen, shes had time to settle into every crack of her life. her parents divorce, her various break ups, her future with the psychonauts.
“and she's already seen so much of a future with [nils] she feels trapped almost. Like she has to be happy in it or else it just means her life is miserable. And it's a mixture of pride and fear of the unknown that keeps her clinging to the One thing she knows. BUT LIKE!!! She knows what's gonna happen! It's easier to grieve when she's been grieving for years... She wants so badly to be happy, But to do that she has to step into the unfamiliar. And that's more terrifying than staying the same miserable person she's always been.”
and thats where franke comes in— and yeah you Do have to take a lot of liberties for frankes character since it’s basically, like, all the info for her is just that shes a Supreme Baby Dyke but thats enough for me. i think she has protective butch itch in her . on campster shes defensive over other women evidenced in the way she keeps watch over the girls cabins for lili when elton is pursuing her . but shes also eager to please and constantly trying to make kitty laugh and also Very naive. but she tries! and i think it only solidifies more as she gets Older and really gets a hold of her feelings & her powers. this is incredibly franke to me
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and i think as they grow older together— because i think franke and elka Do stay friends, both because elka is just pathetic and needs that positive connection even if she doesnt realize it and because i think franke is a very Loyal person & annoyingly persistent if you let her be . and i am also a kitty/franke truther. because kittys also important in this web we weave
because i think franke and kitty stay together after camp, to a point— theres a falling out facilitated on kittys end and they break up, but reconnect, and franke kind of... saves kitty from herself a little, from her strict military father whos love only extends thru finances , from her own stifling future , she drives all the way to bakersville in her shitty van handmedowned from her dad and they move in together eventually . they get jobs at the motherlobe , because it’s a pipeline to a decent job, because it’s whats easy, because franke doesn’t really have a future, because she’s never really been good at much, because shes never had much sense, because franke doesnt really care as long as she can live and help, sometimes, if she can, and because kitty’s there, and because elka’s there, and shes so used to being elkas eyes now and shes good at it. shes good at being the muscle of the missions when her colleagues lack it, when hypnosis and predictions arent enough. she likes it that way.
and elka appreciates frankes company. she listens, shes sweet, she does little things for her that no ones ever really put the effort for before; she likes her. franke is strong and bold and makes her laugh and shes always there but god elka cant let go of that future, of that box shes put herself in, that her mothers put her in, of being a Good Wife to a Loving Husband, of getting married normally and falling into unfailing familiarity. thats all shes ever wanted and shes not going to jeopardize that . not for franke, who may not be a boy but is handsome like one, whos always held her after every break up with nils and the men that filled empty days inbetween.
and elka is too stubborn to recognize those feelings anyway. too prideful to accept a way out. too set in her cycle no matter how much she hates it, her little self fulfilling tragedy of her own making, wallowing in her own doom. she struggles for control of her own life when she feels like every choice has been made for her anyway, she puts up her walls and carefully constructs what people see. but franke was always harder to trick, because while empathy isnt a particularly useful psychic power it’s certainly an inconvenient one. all franke has to do is get too close and all those carefully crafted walls fall apart, and elkas control is gone, and thats all she really has. and she tries to distance herself, really she does, but franke is also too persistent. and elka wears gloves, keeps contact that would make her walls crumble from happening as best as she can, but she cant really keep herself from the brief moments where she feels like someone actually fucking cares about her.
and that slightest lack of control, the need to wrestle it back is why she proposes to nils the next time theres a falling out— she knows how it happens, she plans every detail. and he accepts, despite everything. gets her a cheap ring and it feels like lead on her finger and its nothing at all like how shed thought it to be when she was a kid, theres no feather light feeling in her chest, only that dreadful reality that she cant turn this back. BUT WHAT CAN U DO LMAO
elka doesnt tell franke about this engagement until later, on their way back from a mission. late at night when neither of them can sleep, and franke invites elka to smoke in her van, because its been so long since theyve been alone like that, because elkas been so strangely absent lately. and because of everything, because frankes always so damn nice, because elka hates the feel of the ring on her finger, because she let herself get high alone with franke fucking athens whos always been so good at pulling her apart— the truth of it all spills out and its messy and emotional and she hates it, she hates the life shes made for herself, but franke makes it easier to bare and now shes here and shes so close and god she wishes she could see her smile again, she wishes she could see franke, thats all she needs right now and she cant but she can touch her and she can hold her and for tonight, she can be known, she can let those walls crumble, she can be something else just for once here with franke . she can kiss her here in this van, touch that happiness for just a moment, and forget the future that waits for her outside of it. franke begs her to forget the wedding, to just let herself be happy— and god, she wants to, but it means turning her back on everything shes known and everything shes saw to be inevitable, and franke has never been in her future, so if it were supposed to work out why hadnt she seen it and she cant, she cant take that risk but she can have this, even if its temporary, she can have it.
and just as soon as she gets a taste of it, its gone. after that night, after the missions over and theyre back at the motherlobe and have to pretend like nothing happened (franke doesnt, of course she tells kitty about it, she tells kitty about everything.) but that brief moment together haunts elka every time she sees franke, sees herself through frankes eyes, sees herself in her wedding dress because god its all franke can think about! of course it is! she knows how much elkas destroying herself she knows how much misery shes wallowing in that kiss in the van felt like an emotional punch to the teeth and she hasnt ever forgotten it and all she can do is sit and watch while elka throws herself into a loveless marriage. she can come to her wedding and see the way the bride and groom kiss with the emotional weight of a wet towel no matter how hard elka tries to hide it under a pretty dress and bouquets of flowers and meticulous planning.
and elka resents nils but she cant really hate him, its not his fault, not really. he feels trapped just like she does and his feelings of misery only cycle back into hers . they fight and gnash and wear away at each other and its a relationship thats crashed and burned a million times before elka even said i do. and its inevitable that she falls into her mothers habits, a sip of wine here and there to loosen up, until it turns to a glass, until it falls into a bottle on nights when whatever work nils does runs late.
but franke’s still there. shes always been there, hasn’t she? always trying to play knight, always trying to save her, dragging her home when shes stumbling over herself because god who else is going to do it but her? who else is left to care? certainly not nils. never nils. because franke knows her. because franke pities her. shes always pitied her. shes always known. and elka hates it, she resents it, but god in the same breath she’s desperate for it, she envies it to her very bones. elka is a mess but after frankes done with her she has someone to go back to that loves her. and god what elka wouldnt do to have that. to take it and keep it for herself because shes never ever got to have that movie romance shes always wanted.
so now comes this.
because elkas particularly miserable and particularly spiteful and she needs to get franke to understand, just for a moment, drink with her and get on her level and she needs her there with her no matter how her pity makes her feel. no matter how much it makes her shake with anger and envy and desperation, but god the way franke looks at her, the way she still tries to salvage what they have, the soft, slurred way she tells her that it’s okay but its not okay, none of this is okay, it never has been and she just wants franke to shut up and see that, and if she cant then she’ll show her, she’ll show her all the raw angry desperation, with too much teeth and hands that claw and grab and she’ll know why everyones always said she’s too much.
and she knows this puts her on nils’ level too. that this makes her a cheater, that shes no better than he is now. no better than her father and his affair. but god, she wants to be selfish. she wants to be in control. just for once. she wants to feel right and she wants to feel happy and she wants to feel loved. thats all shes ever wanted. and franke will let her have that, just for a little while, at the very least.
anyway. sorry. sorry for being crazy . this isnt even getting into the shit after the comic takes place . elkas stupid brainworld thag she has to overcome in order to finally be allowed in the polycule and live happily ever as worlds first lesbian divorceman
sorry for all the shit i make up instead of caring about actual characters with screentime . bye !
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eldstunga · 8 months
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Hi! I really love your art! The lines are so bold but the colours so natural that it feels distinct but grounded?? I'm obsessed with the shapes in your work
I was wondering if you had any advice for drawing bodies? Whenever I try it either my proportions are off or an arm ends up looking like a calf or something.
First of all, thank you <3 That's so nice and I think "lines bold, colours natural" is some truly aspirational words to say about my art, I'll strive to be what you say I am <3 I do not, unfortunately, have any great tips on drawing bodies - it's a very wide topic and fundamentally just really bloody hard. I fail horribly 9 times out of 10. How to approach it I think varies a lot with like...HOW you are struggling, and who you are as a person. For proportions and anatomy there are definitely books to look at, and some rules of thumb that can help you - anything from "the shoulders are about 2.5-3 heads wide" through "feet are the same length as the forearm", "elbows are in line with the navel and the navel is two sternums down" etc etc. For me, realising just how big the ribcage actually is and learning how to use that as a unit of measure was a big event (the torso is about two ribcages long). Look at references, Draw over low opacity references and try to look for patterns that help YOU. Like... "Hm, do the shoulders line up with something useful?"
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Having a good ref model to double check things helps too. The pen is pointing to about the bottom of the ribcage. But there's also stuff like maybe you're getting too hung up on construction and then it might help more to try to draw from references by ONLY blocking in a silhouette first. This helps me sometimes still:
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Or you could be like me, struggle with all of the above and then some - like how to make poses look natural and/or dynamic? Weight distribution is a whole other topic.. gah, it never ends, but it's fun to learn.
Lastly, this took me way too long to realise and I think it should be said: Do not fret too much about STUDYING. The unfair thing is that the better you are at something, the better you will be at actually learning from doing studies and exercises or reading books. We accept this with many other disciplines and sports but rarely art. Mileage is king, and mileage is best gained from having fun and enjoying what you do. If you find studies suffering and frustrating you're probably better off just drawing what you enjoy and fuck it if it isn't "pushing your boundaries" or whatever. Eventually you'll get to the point where studies start to give more than they take, and then you're home free. I'm not gonna recommend a billion resources you likely won't enjoy but here are some things I genuinely found helpful lately: * a physical anatomy model, they're pricy and not necessary but being able to just look at it every now and then, turn it over etc helps. * The "Morpho" series of books, they do not teach anatomy, but they are very useful quick reference books and much more easily digested than most anatomy material. Just try to find a real anatomy book to read once your appetite is up as well.
The zig-zag/Lightning bolt method for arms and legs, fuckin' thing revolutionised how I sketch: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCkmB030GpQ
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Gottfried Bammes "The Complete guide to Anatomy for Artists and Illustrators" This thing is insane, it's from the 50's and like 600 pages long. You could absolutely kill someone with it, but a lot of the pages are more philosophical or art history you can skip and despite its age and fear factor this dude writes in a witty, clever and just wonderful way that I've seen nowhere else. Fantastic photos. By far, FAR the best anatomy book I've ever seen. It's not a book I'd recommend for someone starting out, I would not have been able to digest it like four years ago, but once you get to a certain point it's amazing.
That's a lot, uhhh, feel free to ask me for more specific tips this was a bit of a rant. Hope some of it was useful!
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dearasteria · 9 months
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Major Gale romance SPOILERS below, so please DO NOT read and watch if you don't want to get spoiled.
I was REALLY worried about how romance with Gale would go, especially after talking to him right after he gets Karsas' book. My Tav wanted to believe and trust him, but something didn't feel right. At the end of Act II, when Tav tries to convince him not blow himself up for his ex's forgivness/to save Faerûn, it can be summed up with that one gif from Grey's Anatomy: "So pick me. Choose me. Love me" 🤡. Honestly, she asks not only to choose her, but also not to kill her and the rest of the team. Gale is so easily swayed and tells Tav that he loves her, even more than Mystra. Tav should be happy, right? But I'm like WAIT A DAMN MINUTE, it was faaar too easy, I mean, no protests from him, I didn't even have to use persuasion to convince him. At that point, after the trauma that Bioware had caused us with Anders and Solas, I'm getting paranoid. Gale doesn't love Tav, he's definitely hiding something. But I'm thinking to myself, "Okay, calm down, he just doesn't want to die, super understable. Maybe he really loves her and he needed to hear it? He needed reassurance that he has something to live for? Yes, it must be it". But then I go to the quest journal and see this:
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DAMMIT GALE, you snake 🐍 My poor baby Tav (especially since the romance scene in Waterdeep was so warm and tender). She's so in love in him. Now I'm convinced that he will definetly betrey us, stubs us right in the heart.
At the beginning of Act III, he becomes obsessed with a book called The Annals of Karsus that may help him learn more about the crown. He becomes obsessed with how powerful he can become. When Tav gives him the book and says, "We already know the crown's dangerougs. Wouldn't that make things worse?" he replies:
"Worse? It could be the best thing that ever happened to me. To us."
After all this, Gale tries to convince Tav to help him reconstruct the crown. We have this beautiful scene on the boat and when I tell you my jaw dropped. HE CHOOSES TAV, listens to her concerns and simply chooses her.
The way he says it, the way he corrects himself… damn. For Tav, it's like a bucket of cold water. And I'm like, "Here we go again" 🤡
Furthermore, when we visit the Stormshore Tabernacle in Baldur's Gate and interact with Mystra's statue, he seems to feel so uncomfortable, he doesn't want to be there. Tav starts to think he's definitely hiding something. She would like to hear Mystra's version of what happened between her and Gale (I hope we can talk to her at some point in the game, it would be very interesting).
My Tav, however, disagreed, and Gale replies, "I hope you're right. I truly do. Godly power, perhaps I can live without, but you? You're everything". Has the curse of dating mages that leave players heartbroken been broken?
But I have to admit, when he said: "With you, I forget my goddess. I love you. Tell me you feel the same way. Tell me you want what I want. Please" - OH GODS 😳. I was so close to agreeing to this madness. The VA did an amazing job (side note: so many talented VAs in this game, it's mind blowing), the writing is amazing, the music is incredible, I was blown away, really.
Next day, after the boat scene, he's so adorable and full of love for Tav. Then I remembered his gratest flaw (for me it's more like his biggest fear) from the scene with Zethino in the circus: "He thinks he, and the world, might be better off if he were dead". At the time I thought he was lying, manipulating Zethino and his answers. My distrust of mages in games… Yes, I have a problem 😅
I haven't finished the game, but I have high hopes for a happy ending. No spoilers please, thanks :)
What a rollecoster of emotions, I love it, I love Gale. It felt like I was playing Dragon Age: Origins for the first time, way back when I was a teenager. It's really insane how this game makes me feel, how much I care about its characters and story.
EDIT: Okay, so we have an audience with Mystra, I mean only Gale, but we see the whole conversation between them. My only complain is that Gale doesn't mention Tav when Mystra asks him why he defied her 💔 The outcomes are different depending on whether you do it before or after the boat scene. Personally, I think doing the boat scene before meeting Mystra is much better. I get the impression that Gale is abandoning the plan to reconstruct the crown solely for Tav and his love for her. And the drama 👌🏻 it gives me life.
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formulapai · 5 months
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7 and 14 with Oscar? My SAD is killing me rn :(
Of course darling, hope you’ll feel better soon 🧡
On the exterior, he’s the perfect rookie, getting podiums and records in no time, carving his name in history books. He should have it easy, gaining the team’s and fans’ trust faster than a lot of his coworker. So why is he struggling so much ? Why does he feel the need to read each and every negative things said about him, analyzing and overanalyzing every words, every interviews, every posts online. He knows he should ignore all this, he’s already proved himself and will continue to do so next season, but he can’t keep his eyes off the screen and it drives him insane.
You’ve just started dating, years after your meeting, having waited for him to be secure in his new team. You’re his breath of fresh air, his sun ray, the one to give him hope when he’s in a terrible mood, the one to motivate him to get up on his off days. Meeting you was the best thing the universe ever did, intertwining your paths in the most intricate way, bonding your souls to one another. So it’s not a surprise that you easily read him when he joins you at the cafe for your planned date.
He doesn’t say much, explaining his doubts and hopes without getting into details, not yet ready to dive in his mind. Still, you read between the lines and offer him some peace of mind as your kind smile lights his day up. Your hand finds his, enveloping it in its warmth and making him relax.
“It’ll get better, I know it will.”
Later, when you’re walking in the streets of the bustling city with your hands intertwined and matching smiles, he thanks his lucky star once again for putting you on his path. Your apartment complex comes into view and he knows your time is soon over, the two of you still not sleeping together as you didn’t have much opportunities before the break. But as he leans to kiss you before leaving to his own apartment, you stop him, knowing fully well that he needs the presence right now, your presence.
“Will you stay?”
It was a question, but it was also a promise. As long as he wants to, you’ll be here, waiting for him with open arms. He’ll stay with you, he promises.
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Text
Treading On Thin Ice
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Word Count: 8,000+
Warnings: Some language, insanity, frightening sequences???
Summary: A little bit of peppermint bark goes a long, long way.  || Kol x reader || Here lies my Masterlist || Christmas At The Compound 2022 ||
A/N: This fic was requested on Wattpad. The books mentioned and quoted in this fic are The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson and A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. I do not own them. Thanks for reading!
☃️Story Begins Below☃️
Generosity - The spirit and action of freely and frequently giving to others.
"Y/N/N!" 
Rebekah's voice carried your name across the compound and you glanced up from wrapping garland around the railing of one of the Mikaelson's many stairwells. You knew you should have been prepared for when the blonde girl just appeared at the top of the stairs as if having teleported, yet the sight still made you jump. It wasn't your fault though, despite having been raised in the house of a witch. You were really only used to the concept of vampires - not the reality.
"Y/N/N," She repeated. "I need to ask you something."
"Hi, Bekah." You offered her a small smile to show that you were listening. The girl waved her hand dismissively.
"Yes, hello. I-" She paused, regarding the decorations you'd been working on. "Oh, darling, that's coming along splendid!"
You let go of a chuckle at her attitude. Oftentimes Rebekah would forget that she didn't have to be terse with you. "Why thank you, Bex," You said, moving into a mock bow.
"You're welcome." The girl smiled, grateful you understood her behavior. So few did. "Anyway, I wanted to ask if you intended to make any more of those thin mints by chance?" 
You raised a brow. "Are they gone already?" You wondered, amused but not surprised. "Man, I knew those were gonna be popular but I didn't know they were gonna be that popular. I should've made a bigger batch."
Rebekah's smile turned a little sheepish. "Could you make another one? Please?" She turned her pleading eyes on you and though you hadn't intended on refuting her request, you most certainly weren't going to now. You couldn't deny that girl anything. "I don't mean to be demanding, but they were so fantastic."
You snorted and turned back to your decorating with a slight shake of your head. Mass murderers or not, her family was way too good to you. "You're not being demanding, Bekah. Honestly, I don't think you guys ask enough of me, all things considered."
She frowned. "But you're-"
"Pregnant! I know. Trust me, I'm well aware." You cut her off, holding up a finger. "However, one month pregnant is not dead. I'm fine and I feel great. So as long as you guys are providing room and board for me, the least I can do is help out and cater to y’all’s raging sweet tooth's. Savvy?"
Rebekah groaned playfully. "Ugh! I suppose if you must," She huffed. 
“Oh, I must.”
The blonde original's face softened affectionately and she sighed. "Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are, Y/N?"
"No, not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?" You tossed her a wink and she rolled her eyes. "I'll get on those thin mints as soon as I'm done here," You said. "Who knows? Maybe I'll make some Chex Mix too."
The girl's expression lit up and she skipped down the stairs to pull you into a hug. "You're the best Christmas present ever!" She cheered. 
You couldn't help but laugh. Turns out, all those stories about the youngest Mikaelson were completely wrong. She wasn't outright cruel and snide, she was just cautious. She didn't like being betrayed and thus didn't trust easily. However, you had quickly worn down her defenses with your sugary confections.
You pulled away from her arms upon hearing the familiar squeal of the front gates. Elijah was back! Though you turned to greet him with a smile on your face, that excitement quickly dimmed as you caught sight of the grim expression he wore. Beside him, Josh - one of your closest friends since you'd moved in - looked equally disturbed. Something was very wrong.
"Joshua, in the basement you'll find what we need. Fetch them quickly please," Elijah said. His tone was polite as always but it carried an undercurrent that made it clear he wasn't asking. Josh nodded, quick to comply.
Worried, you cast a quick glance at Rebekah - a question evident in your eyes. The blonde just shook her head, lips pursed and brows drawn together.
"Rebekah?" Elijah called from below. Something in his voice was urgent.
"What is it, brother?" The girl demanded, pushing passed you. "What's going on?"
A scowl twisted your good friend's lips and his eyes darkened. "It's Kol."
Rebekah inhaled sharply. "What?"
"He's come back." Elijah's frown deepened. "Kol is here in the quarter and he appears to be in the midst of one of his episodes."
"Oh bloody hell." That was the first time you'd seen Rebekah look truly frightened.
"I know," Elijah sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We have to get Y/N out of here. Now."
You blinked, feeling a spike of dread slash through your chest. You-you couldn't leave. You couldn't. He was out there. He would find you. You couldn't let him get to you. You didn’t care what sort of danger you were in now, getting torn to shreds by an original vampire would be preferable to allowing that disgusting excuse for a man to ever lay his beady eyes on you again. Elijah had promised.
"It's too late for that!" Rebekah argued faster than you could open your mouth. "If he's already in the city, then he'll be watching us, brother. The second we try to send Y/N anywhere, knowing Kol, he'll probably try to eat her!"
Alright, admittedly that didn't sound like a great option.
"Then what?" The dark-haired original questioned. "What do we do with her, Rebekah? Because, by the old gods, I will not allow that girl and her child to be hurt by anyone, especially Kol."
"And I appreciate that!" You called down to them timidly. "Excuse me, just so we're on the same page, is this the super insane brother who likes to snack on people like I snack on cheese and crackers?"
"That would be the one," Rebekah huffed, frowning. She turned back to Elijah. "If we caught him, could we keep him contained until he rides it out?" She suggested.
Your friend shook his head. "I don't like the idea of Kol and Y/N under the same roof."
"I don't think we have another option," Rebekah said.
“It’s too risky,” Elijah insisted.
“I’ll take that risk,” You spoke up. Your voice shook only slightly and you clutched the railing for support but you stood your ground. You would be brave. 
Elijah sighed again - he’d always taken such good care of you and you loathed to ask him for one more favor but you had to. “Y/N, you know I respect you, but I don’t think you comprehend how dangerous my brother truly is.” 
“Maybe not,” You admitted, shrugging. “But you’ve beaten him before, haven’t you?”
“Only with the help of Niklaus, and only when we’ve managed to catch him by surprise,” He pointed out with a shake of his head. “But Niklaus is miles away, and Kol is expecting us to retaliate.”
“Expecting?” Rebekah scoffed. “He’s not expecting us to retaliate, Elijah. You make him sound passive. This is Kol! You know as well as I that he intends to force us! I’d bet he’s already dropping bodies, so either we subdue him or we lose the quarter!”
Grim realization cast a shadow over your dearest friend’s expression and he nodded his weary agreement. “It’s a trap,” He conceded. The deceptively young man raised his eyes to you again. “Now do you see why you must go?”
“If I leave, then that just plays into his hand doesn’t it?” You noted. “If his whole goal is to bait you into reacting, then-” you jabbed a finger toward your chest “- let’s not hand him extra bait!”
“You know she’s right,” Rebekah pressed softly. He clenched his jaw.
“Please don’t make me leave?” You whispered. “Please don’t break your promise.”
He held your eyes for a moment, then Elijah cursed under his breath and turned to his sister. "Fine, we do it your way," He reluctantly agreed. "Y/N, go to your room and stay there please. Don't come out unless Rebekah, Josh, or myself come to collect you. This is for your own safety, do you understand?"
You could sense the seriousness of the situation in the depths of his pine bark eyes. You decided it best not to question.
"Okay."
It wasn't as though you'd been living with the Mikaelsons for very long - no more than a few weeks really - but even in such a short time, the three siblings you were familiar with had told you plenty about their youngest brother. Horror stories, that was what you'd been told. Even Rebekah, who spoke of the wild Original with the most fondness among her family couldn't deny his thirst for mass slaughter. According to his siblings, Kol liked hurting people. 
That wasn't a concept you could really understand. While it was true that you didn't know him personally and that you had a tendency to see the best in people, you found it hard to believe that Kol could be quite as horrid as his siblings claimed. From what you had been told about their kind by your mother, the Mikaelsons themselves, and Josh, Kol sounded more like a raging addict than a raging psychotic. Though you were probably wrong. Again, your familiarity with the nature of vampires was purely theoretical.
That was why you decided to heed Elijah's orders.
All danger aside, being confined to your room for a few hours didn't bother you so much. After all, you had the entire Stormlight Archive sitting on your shelf, so it wasn't as if you could really get bored. Funnily enough, it was only after Elijah and his sister returned that you found it much harder to remain behind your locked door.
Your head shot up when the first scream tore through the air. Ear piercing, shrill, bloodcurdling, and ominous, the sound alone was enough to set your heart racing. That scream was followed by several shouts.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Get that away from him!" That voice belonged to Josh - he sounded worried, disturbed.
"No!" A different voice cried. "No, Ethan! Don't do it!"
Then that scream came again. It morphed into words. 
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" 
"Ethan, no!" Josh yelled desperately.
The scream came once more, intense and unremitting, rising to a crescendo that chilled you to your very bones. Then, all at once, the sound cut off.
You sat there on your bed, frozen. Your back ramrod straight as you clutched your book to your chest and waited. For eight beats of your pounding heart, silence permeated the compound - a shocked, absolute sort of silence. The kind that follows death like a shadow.
Then like a crack of thunder in the night, there was laughter. Sick, horrid laughter. It was rasping and manic, crazed and deranged - unfeelingly cold and slick like ice, there was a hoarse, retching quality to it, lurking just beneath the surface. It echoed off the walls and through your skull, sending a shiver down your spine. The sensation of a thousand invisible eyes descended upon you and your breathing turned harsh and frantic.
The laughing stalled.
"Oh, what fun this is!" A new voice exclaimed, you'd never heard it before and you would have been satisfied never to hear it again. "I do so love a little jaunt through an inferior mind. Perhaps you should mandate vervain intake for your lackeys, Elijah. After all, the least you could do is make it a challenge for me, eh?"
That voice… That voice! It was repulsive - downright sickening. There was no warmth in it whatsoever - no life - only stone-cold death and wretched, scathing, venom. It stole the warmth of the room you resided in. Yet, at the same time, something about the sound was so smooth, so alluring and playful, that you almost felt inclined to listen. Something in his voice nearly goaded you to relax, to trust whoever welded it like a gleaming silver blade. That voice didn't sound dangerous. 
It sounded… tempting.
Perhaps that was what made it so bloody terrifying. You had never felt more unsettled in your life. Not even when he had been shadowing your every step. That man's obsession with you was nothing compared to the stark horror now flooding your senses.
What was going on out there?
The calm timbre of Elijah's voice cut through the air soon after, but his words didn't do much to calm you.
"Why do insist on this bloodshed, brother?" He demanded, voice ragged - patience worn thin.
"Because. It's. Fun."
And that awful laughter came again, seeming to fold in on itself and multiply. Growing louder, almost gleeful, it was manic and maddening, like a pack of hyenas encircling their prey. Locked in your room, you felt trapped yet exposed. What was going on out there? You had to know.
So you did something undeniably stupid. You got up and opened your door. Stealing out into the hall, you swiftly ducked behind a pillar and peeked through the second-floor railing, taking in the courtyard below. There in the center of the compound, a ring of vampires stood around a young dark-haired man. 
He both scared and fascinated you. 
Perhaps you would have thought the boy to be beautiful had his features not been tainted with madness. His thick dark hair seemed soft and you might have liked to run a hand through it had those locks not been disheveled and flecked with blood. His lips might have distracted you had they not been twisted into a vile sneer. His teeth were perfectly white but the terrible, deadly fangs he displayed ruined the illusion. Perhaps his eyes might have been deep enough to lose yourself in, but the curse in his blood and the rage in his heart had corrupted them with a horrific blackness that seemed to overflow, fracturing his otherwise innocent features into the visage of a monster.
Two steel cuffs clad his forearms, these attached to hulking, robust chains that looked strong enough to hold the weight of an ocean liner. Those cuffs burned the skin beneath them, rendering his arms a repulsive mess of scorching red flesh and blood. He hissed and laughed, purely demented, as he tugged and tore at the chains but, positioned on either side, each holding fast to a chain, stood Rebekah and Elijah. Both of your friends had their respective chains wrapped around their arms, struggling despite their teamwork to restrain their brother.
The vampires circled around them each kept hold of their own ropes. The thick cords were wrapped around his throat, others around his arms and legs and yet, all of them together couldn't seem to bring him down. There was one rope, you noted, that had gone slack. You followed the line with your eyes and quickly stifled a scream. A bloody corpse lay sprawled on the ground with a jagged length of wood impaled through his heart - self-inflicted. 
Above you, a clap of thunder shook the sky and the heavens opened, raining down vicious hail though the day had been cloudless only minutes before. This was New Orleans - it doesn’t hail in Louisiana. You shuddered from the cold and the horror, but that disgusting, unhinged laughter only re-doubled.
"No matter what you see or hear, know that it is merely an illusion!" Elijah's voice rang through the courtyard. Bold and commanding, it rose over the unnatural icefall. "Keep him out and you will not be deceived." 
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that," The awful voice drawled, sounding so clearly from the boy at the center of it all. He merely grinned.
Within moments, a second scream - not the first you'd heard - erupted from the courtyard. Then another, seconds later. And another one again after that! One by one, shrieks permeated the atmosphere until the cries of the undead were all you could hear. Several of the surrounding vampires collapsed to their knees. There was retching and sobbing, some were choking while others gasped for breath.
Amidst the pain and the chaos, Kol lifted his face to the sky, eyes closed and mouth warping into a grin. And that monster kept on laughing. "I don't think they can help it, Elijah!" He taunted, sadistically gleeful.
"Josh?" Rebekah called over the gathering storm. "Josh, you have to fight it!"
Of all the others surrounding the siblings, Josh was the only one left standing. He screwed his eyes shut, his expression drawn with effort. 
"I-I'm trying!" He bit out between clenched teeth.
You drew in a sharp breath, wishing you could reach out and take your friend away from this insanity. "Josh…" You whispered, still crouched as you watched from your hiding place. 
The monster in the courtyard heard you. His eyes snapped open and locked onto your own. It all happened so fast. 
You had never wanted to imagine what a lobotomy might feel like, but you were certain you received a taste of one then as something - some powerful, vile force worked itself into your mind with all the delicate touch of an ice-pick driven by a sledgehammer. You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head in an attempt to wrest his consciousness away from yours but your feeble inexperience was pathetic in the face of this practiced maniac, backed by enough raw power to rival that of Klaus. An unnatural chill ran down your spine as any mental barrier you had shattered like stained glass in a storm and the last glimpse of reality you caught was that demented grin of his widening into a bleeding gash across his face. 
"Now, now, now… What do we have here?" That terrible voice whispered into your ear. A pair of hands - soft and warm though you didn't want them to be - settled on your shoulders and you froze. You didn't move. You couldn't move as his hands trailed down your arms and he knelt just behind you. Those hands slid to your wrists, thumbs pressing in to find your pulse. "Human," He hummed a second later, blunt teeth tugging gently at your earlobe, nipping almost teasingly. "How interesting." You didn't understand why you couldn't move! Your body simply refused to respond. "You know, I've torn through quite a few of your kind today…" Kol's mouth moved lower, leaving soft kisses along your throat as his hands shifted to your hips. Two sharp points scraped over your jugular. "Yet, not one of them smelled so sweet," He murmured, that insatiable hunger more than evident in his tone. "What are you going to taste like, I wonder?" 
Finally, you could react. (He let you react. He was the one in control here. Kol wanted to see you run scared.) You cried out, jabbing your elbow backward into his chest and scrambling away from him as fast as you could. The monster just watched, amused, and tilted his head. "Who are you, sweet-thing?"
"Y-you're not real," You stammered, trying to sound brave. 
"Are you sure?" His tone was playful, mocking as he grinned and stalked closer. "I think you should guess again."
He seemed real, he felt real but it was all in your head. Elijah had said so. You could always trust Elijah.
"You're not real! " You shouted, voice growing firm. "Get out of my head and leave me alone!"
His expression soured into a scowl. "Perhaps you're right," He said. Then, in a split second, Kol was behind you. "But I'm not too far away, am I?" 
Your eyes snapped open and you knew he had let you go because those haunting black abysses stared back at you with a promise.
Yet, in the moments you had grabbed Kol's attention, Josh had found his opening. He raced up from behind and jabbed a syringe directly into that monster's neck, injecting him with enough vervain to down three original vampires. Kol roared and threw his head back, clipping Josh's skull with an impact that would have killed any human instantly, but it was too late. His legs soon gave out and he fell to the ground - out cold.
Yet, you found yourself unable to truly process what had happened. You got to your feet, clinging to the railing for support but you didn’t move beyond that. Below you, the other vampires recovered from whatever attack Kol had unleashed on their sanity. 
“Take him to the basement,” Rebekah ordered, letting go of a long breath as she collapsed into a chair. The others nodded and got to work. You just watched them, seemingly unable to tear your eyes from her brother as they dragged the temporarily lifeless corpse away.
“Would you like to tell me exactly what you were thinking,” Elijah’s voice sounded from behind you, effectively shocking you from your stupor. You jumped, turning to face his displeased expression. Yeah, you were in trouble all right.
“I can honestly say I have no idea,” You replied, pressing your lips into a thin line. “It just sort of… happened.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Do you have any idea what my brother could have done to you if he had broken free?” 
“I don’t think I want to imagine that, thank you.” You rocked back and forth on your heels nervously as Elijah’s glare intensified. “But, hey! He’s out for the count, so it’s all fine!” He crossed his arms over his chest and you let go of a nervous chuckle. “How was he so powerful anyway, huh? I mean, that was weird,” You pointed out, gesturing to the storm overhead. Its intensity was rapidly waning.
“The dude was higher than a kite, that’s how!” Josh called up to you. He’d begun cleaning up the body of his fallen friend.
You raised a brow. “What does that have anything to do with it?”
“Kol’s been snacking his way through several states on his way here, and with our father dead, its not like he had to worry about avoiding attention,” Rebekah sighed, rubbing at her temples.
“I mean, we’re talking a kill count higher than my carrer best in Call of Duty,” Josh added. “And that’s saying a lot!”
“Is it though?” You teased.
“It is actually,” He sassed. “Anyway, running on that much death is like running on a concoction of jet fuel, monster energy, red bull, sixty three pounds of sugar, eight tablespoons of the essence of Dwane Johnson, a five hour energy, seven triple espresso shots, and gorilla testosterone… with just a dash of peppermint.”
You blinked. “Interesting metaphore,” You admitted. “Please never say that again.”
He just shrugged grinning. You turned back to Elijah. “So if your brother is that doped up, then what’s going to stop him from tearing his way outta’ this joint as soon as he wakes up?”
“We'll keep injecting him with vervain on the hour until he regains a grasp on his fragile sanity,” Rebekah answered for her brother.
“And if that fails we’ve raised a barrier spell to keep him contained,” Elijah said. His expression softened and he placed a hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze. “As long as you stay out of the basement, Kol will be unable to harm you.”
Nodding, you bit your lip. “I sure hope so.” Unwittingly you cast your eyes toward the doorway through which Kol had disappeared, and a thread of curiosity tugged on the corner of your mind. You shook it away. “I’m gonna go make those thin mints now.”
For the next week and a half, you did a rather excellent job of putting Kol out of your mind. It was no easy task, mind you, considering the occasional screams of outrage, strings of profanity, and creative death threats that rang through the compound every now and again. (That boy had quite the set of lungs on him.) The death threats especially gave you a good reason not to go wandering into the basement. It wasn't until the tenth day of administering hourly vervain injections, that Josh finally declared the guy "moderately chill". 
"Define, moderately chill?" Rebekah demanded. Elijah had forbidden her from seeing their brother - knowing their presence was only likely to rile him up. But that couldn't keep her from worrying.
Josh shrugged. "I mean, he's not trying to impale me on my own rib cage anymore."
"Wait, I thought you guys said he was restrained!" You said, a slight note of panic rising into your voice.
"Oh, he is," Josh assured you. "Doesn't stop him from trying though."
You grimaced, reminding yourself yet again why going down to see the wild Original was a less-than-intelligent idea.
But two days after that, your curiosity began to outweigh your common sense. You started to pity the guy, he must have been lonely down there all alone - not to mention bored… and hungry. As a person who was quite fond of food, you didn't want to imagine what going without it for a week would have to be like.
Thus, you decided to pay him a little visit and came up with every justification in the book as to why because morbid curiosity was an awful reason. Rebekah had told you that Kol could be really sweet when he wanted to be, so you figured that it certainly couldn't hurt to earn yourself a place in his good graces. Bringing him something to eat sounded like an excellent way to do just that. Besides, you had found a new recipe for peppermint bark and you needed a guinea pig. Elijah and Rebekah were off doing whatever it was they did to keep the peace in the French Quarter, and Josh was on a date. You wouldn't have a better chance.
So, you pushed all thoughts of self-preservation aside and ventured down into the basement, armed with a cookie sheet, a billiard cue, two blood bags, a plate of peppermint bark, and Brandon Sanderson's The Way of Kings.
There wasn't exactly a cell down there per se - just a dingy alcove behind a small archway with a cot set up in the center. Despite it being invisible, you could instantly tell where the barrier spell was. Apparently, Kol had been entertaining himself by attempting to spit past it. He clearly hadn't had much luck as there was a semi-consistent line of dried blood marring the stone floor. It reminded you of something out of Lilo and Stich. Well, you'd been right about the boredom.
Peering through the archway, you studied the boy inside. His wrists were still clasped in those shackles you'd seen before, except now those had been secured to opposite walls. The skin beneath the cuffs was still red and raw, in fact, you thought you could see smoke curling off of it. That had to be painful, though you tried very hard not to pity him. Shifting your attention to his face you were shocked at how peaceful and innocent his expression seemed. He was sprawled across the cot, fast asleep and you couldn't help but find him… cute. This boy looked nothing like the monster you had seen two weeks ago.
You sat down on the floor just beyond the magic barrier and watched him for a bit. Not in a creepy way. You just didn't want to wake him and if you did, you had no idea what to say.
Turns out, you didn't need to worry about that because Kol woke up on his own. He groaned, lifting his head and his eyes fixed on yours. 
"It's you…" His voice was dry and scratchy, though you couldn't expect much less from a person who hadn't had anything to drink in two weeks. Confusion colored his expression initially but within seconds, dark veins crawled outwards from his eyes, spilling down his cheeks and you caught a glimpse of his fangs. You froze as he stared at you longingly. Then he groaned and curled himself into a ball like a child with a stomach ache. Only then did you notice the shadows beneath his eyes and the profound lack of color in his skin. 
"Are you hungry?" What a stupid question.
"Starving," Kol growled miserably. "Come to torture me, have you?"
"No, actually I brought you a snack."
He glanced up, raising a brow. "Excuse me?"
You held up one of the blood bags and his eyes widened. In a split second, he was off the cot and straining against the chains. Their length allowed him within a mere three feet of where you sat and you jumped back. Kol hissed, his pitch-black eyes singularly focused on the bag in your hand. He struggled and thrashed, gleaming fangs on full display.
The color in your face drained away.
There was the monster you'd seen in the courtyard.
"Scared, are we?" He growled, sneering. Those teeth snapped at you with all the power of a hyena.
You didn't reply. You just backed away.
"DON'T YOU DARE TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!"
But that's exactly what you did. You turned and ran from that place as fast as you could, clamping your hands over your ears to block out his voice as Kol screamed insults at your back.
Yet, you found yourself returning two days later. Apparently, Josh's date had gone well and there was some problem across the river that Bekah and Elijah had to take care of. You knew you had absolutely no reason to extend your kindness to that monster in the basement again, especially after he'd so completely rejected it the last time; however, you were a generous person and if he wanted to be a jerk to you then that was his problem. You would keep being kind regardless of how he decided to treat you because really Kol was only hurting himself. He was growing weaker by the minute - starvation had to be excruciating and you were offering him a respite from that pain. He was sure to concede eventually.
So down the steps, you descended once again, moving to sit on the floor just beyond the barrier spell. This time, Kol was already awake. He struggled to sit up, arms shaking, and glared at you viciously. 
"Ah, she's back," He snarled, lip curling with disgust. But it wasn't entirely genuine, you could see the curiosity and surprise shining through his eyes.
"I am." You nodded, holding up the blood bag as you had done before. "And I brought you something."
Kol's eyes immediately turned black, but this time he remained carefully still. "What do you want?"
You shrugged. "I wanna give this to you."
His eyes narrowed as he forced himself to look at you - not the crimson substance in your hand. "What do you really want?" He pressed.
"I really want to give this to you! Unless you try to attack me again, in which case I'll leave and come back tomorrow and the next day and the next until you get over your ego and take the hand that's being offered to you."
Kol scoffed, rolling his eyes. "And why would you want to help me get out of here, darling? First thing I'd do is rip into that pretty little neck of yours."
"Oh, heavens no," You snorted, grinning wryly. "I don't want you out of there any more than you want to be in there."
"Then why offer?" He demanded.
You shrugged. "Well, starvation doesn't sound too pleasant. You must be feeling pretty sick by now."
The vampire's eyes darkened and he scowled. "I don't want, nor do I need your pity, bug," He spat. If looks could kill, you would have been drawn and quartered.
"Good thing this isn't pity."
"Then what is it?" He mocked.
"The fruit of generosity," You answered, “which you have long denied your fellow men.” 
“That’s Charles Dickens,” Kol hummed. “Never did like him.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. "Well, in that case, think of it as a Christmas present."
"Generosity…" Kol hummed the word, watching you appraisingly. "People will take advantage of that, you know."
You huffed a laugh but there was no humor in it. "Believe me… I know." You knew better than most. You quickly met his eyes again. "But you won't."
He seemed to find that deceleration extremely amusing. "Oh, is that what you think?" He chuckled. "Darling, with that in your hand, I could easily find my way back into your head. I could do whatever I wanted. I could drive you mad."
"You could. But I know you won't."
"Do you have faith in my humanity, sweetheart?" He teased. His grin was a sharp row of gleaming teeth.
"Nope!" You exclaimed. You held up your hand exposing a ring. It wasn't really your vervain jewelry - that was the new ankle bracelet that Elijah had bought you - but Kol didn't need to know that. "I got an upgrade. Smart bug."
He huffed a laugh, amused by your cheek. "The possession of a brain does not make you intelligent."
You just rolled your eyes. "Look, do you want this or not?" You asked, gesturing to the blood bags again. Kol's attention was once again enamored with it. You watched him try to hold back, try to retain his pride but it wasn't long before he broke.
"Fine," He bit out. His eyes flicked to meet yours. "I want it."
"Next time I'll teach you to say please." You smirked and tossed him the bag.
He caught it easily and for the briefest of moments, you thought you caught him watching you. Then that moment was gone and he tore into it, groaning voraciously as he practically inhaled its contents. As soon as he was done with it, you tossed him the next, wordlessly. He downed it without a second thought, and though he tried to keep up the spiteful, angry facade, you could see Kol's relief visible in his posture. 
"Is that better?" You asked as soon as he finished. He just glared and tossed the empty bags back at you. 
Shrugging, you scooped those up and opened the Tupperware container you'd brought with you - the one full of peppermint bark - and shook it.
He watched you for a moment, seething. "Now what?"
You grinned cheekily. "Want some? I made it just yesterday."
Kol rolled his eyes, moving to sit on the cot where he rested his arms on his knees. He watched you with narrowed eyes but took his time to reply. "What I want, darling, is to know who the hell you are."
"Me?" You raised a brow. "I'm Y/N Y/LN."
Kol huffed. "What's a bloody name mean to me?"
"Not too much, apparently," You muttered.
"Who are you? What are you? Why are you here?" The boy in the cell demanded, seeming more curious now than furious. 
"Well, I already told you my name. I'm pretty human as far as I know, and I'm here because I make poor life decisions," You said. It was no crime that you didn't want to tell Kol your life story. He didn't need to know any of it.
"Poor life decisions, eh?" He offered you a wry grin. "Would you mind elaborating on that?"
"Yes," You deadpanned. "Look, I did something stupid and Elijah brought me here. That's all you need to know."
"Why would my brother bother himself with you?" His tone was somewhat accusatory, though you couldn't comprehend why.
You shrugged. "I dunno. I guess it's because Elijah's sorta like my… cousin."
"Cousin?"
"One can never have too many cousins," You said, smirking.
Kol scoffed. "I beg to differ. One can absolutely have too much family."
"True, however, cousins are not immediate family," You countered. "They're more like friends who feel obligated to do you favors."
"Ahh…" He nodded. "I see. So you're a manipulative bitch then, eh?"
Your face soured though it was mostly theatrics because Kol was entirely right. Beneath that frown, you were smirking. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I prefer the term: opportunist. Plus, I'm not a complete leech. I help out here and there. I dust shelves, sweep floors…" You shook that container of peppermint bark again and shrugged. "I bake... I'm helping."
Kol snorted. "It's cute that you think that."
"Oh, so you admit that I'm cute?" You teased, winking at him.
He raised a brow. "Flirting are we? When you're so fond of my brother? Darling!" He shook his head reprovingly. "That'll get you onto Santa's naughty list for sure. Then again, my brother does have a thing for women who take advantage of him…"
"Elijah?" You balked. "Dude! I just said he's like my cousin… This ain't Alabama!"
Kol chuckled darkly and once again, he was in control of the conversation. The guy was quite good at gaining the upper hand. "Well, in that case, sweetheart, I'd be infinitely more worried."
"Why?" You questioned, narrowing your eyes.
"Because you won't be able to keep this little ruse of yours up forever," He reasoned. There was a sick gleam that didn't belong in such innocent eyes. "Niklaus or my sister - one of them will figure out what really drives you, then you'll be wishing you had the romantic affections of that noble stag to protect you when the claws and teeth come out. My family is not one to be manipulated."
Kol was good at intimidation, that much was true, and his inferences were logical but he needed to work on his humility. That boy had jumped the gun. 
You smirked. "Who said it's them I'm manipulating?"
He blinked, tilting his head. His eyes flicked along your frame, inspecting you again. "Clever bug." He grinned. "This isn't generosity, is it? No, not at all. You're just trying to butter me up."
"Is it working?" You hummed.
"Nah."
"Alright!" You shrugged. You didn't need it to work. Not right away. "I've got some time, want me to read to you?"
"Certainly not!" Kol said. "I want more answers."
"Then ask more questions." You shrugged, mostly indifferent. "But at least be a decent person and try the treats." You loaded up the cookie sheet with a few pieces of peppermint bark and, using the billiard cue, pushed it past the boundary spell. Kol got up, regarding you somewhat distrustfully. Despite the restraints, he managed to get close enough to hook his foot around the lip of the cookie sheet, pulling it closer to himself before bending down and picking up a shard of the treat. He inspected it carefully, then after a moment, cast his eyes back up to yours.
"It's poisoned, isn't it?" He accused. 
You scowled, taken aback. "Of course not! I'm offended, Kol. Honestly, what do you take me for? I wouldn't waste perfectly good vervain on you! Not to mention, that's a vile misuse of perfectly good peppermint bark!"
"Then why are you so desperate for me to ingest this?" He challenged with a sneer.
"Because it's a new recipe," You reasoned, tossing your hair over your shoulder with an indignant huff. "What if it turns out to be nasty? I wouldn't want to feed my friends something subpar, now would I?"
He rolled his eyes leaning back against his cot. "I thought you said Elijah was like your cousin," He said. Kol popped one of the pieces into his mouth idly. He probably wouldn't have done it had he not been so hungry - anything to at least provide the illusion of comfort, you supposed. Yet, he couldn't hide his genuinely surprised reaction when he tried the treat. 
The boy did a double take and a small, yet radiant smile overtook his face. You grinned. Though, a second later, he caught your eyes and wiped that expression away. 
It didn't bother you, however. It couldn't bother you because, though it had been for just a moment, Kol had proven you right. There was more to him than that horrid monstrosity of an exterior. There was more to him than the villain he played. Under all of that, there was a boy - scared and hungry, upset and alone. Beneath the monster, there was a person with the same desires as any other. 
Because this month was December and December is the time when all people just want the same things. Generosity and companionship are the two things everyone wants for Christmas and deep down, Kol was no different.
A few beats passed and Kol reached for another shard of peppermint bark as silence settled between you. Tilting your head, you watched him and, after a moment, you opened your mouth. 
"Bravado," You said, smiling just slightly.
Kol's head shot up. His eyes were wide and weary but not near as sharp nor as threatening as they'd been merely a moment before. He looked more like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar because you'd seen him. You'd seen past his front and he knew it.
"What?" Kol's voice was hardly more than a whisper. 
You leaned forward, settling with your elbows on your knees. 
"Bravado," You repeated, gesturing minutely to his hands which still shook, though not as severely. "Bravado is the hallmark of insecurity."
It was the wrong thing to say.
Whatever warmth you had seen in his eyes drained away in hardly an instant, his expression growing hard as obsidian as his posture closed off to you yet again. You cursed yourself. You should have known better than to push.
"Get out," Kol hissed, teeth and fists clenched tight.
"Kol I didn't-"
He spoke again, voice taught with barely constrained rage. "I. Said. Get. Out." He kicked the cookie sheet back at you with force and it skidded across the stone floor, nailing your knee hard enough to make you wince.
"Fine," You said, quietly. Then, you gathered your things and left.
Yet, Kol's ire didn't stop you from coming back. You returned, again and again, every day and though Kol continued to take the blood bags from you, he refused to engage you in conversation. This went on for days. Though it wasn't long before you grew tired of it. You had seen something in him that day, and he was trying to forget it existed but you weren't going to let him. 
The next time you descended those stairs and sat on the floor, you waited for him to down the blood bags just as you had every other time. Kol grew weaker by the day, though he was in less pain than he would have been thanks to you. He sat facing you, with his back resting against the far wall of the cellar. You knew he expected you to leave, but you didn't. You held your ground and said what he needed to hear.
"I'm not mad at you, Kol."
The boy slowly raised his head, it lolled to the side as though he hadn't the strength to keep it up. His skin was ashen and his eyes were dull, sunken into his face as though there was some black hole inside him. The breaths he took were shallow and unstable. He was falling apart, yet still, a bitter smirk spread across his face.
"Well that's a first." Somehow his voice, raw and quiet, was more unsettling than the screams you'd heard weeks ago in the courtyard. The hollow whisper worried you more than that unholy laughter had. It made you empathize with him.
"I'm not mad, because it wasn't your fault," You continued.
"Another first."
You sighed, shrugging. "Your reaction was only natural. I would have done the same thing."
"I'm sure you would have."
You took a deep breath. You were about to do the dumbest thing you would ever attempt, yet you weren't all that afraid. Getting to your feet, you approached the barrier spell - the only thing guaranteeing that Kol could not harm you - and crossed over the invisible boundary. Those deep brown eyes followed you, trailing your every step with suspicion and disbelief as you crossed his cell and knelt beside him. 
Kol, starving as he was, didn't attack you. So you offered him a gentle smile.
"It's okay, Kol. It was my fault," You said quietly. Kol froze. "I just got too close, didn't I?"
His eyes grew wide, pupils dilating as he stared at you with an uncomprehending expression. Reaching out slowly, you ran a hand through his hair. The dark locks were dirty and tangled, but soft all the same. Kol hesitated, but leaned into your touch as though he simply couldn't stop himself. 
Leaning in, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I forgive you."
"Why?" He demanded, watching you with wonder. 
You just smirked. "Think of it as a Christmas present."
"For me?" He coughed, grimacing. "Or for Elijah?"
You sighed. "I'm not here for Elijah."
"Then why are you here?" He looked at you, desperation for understanding showing clearly through those eyes. "My brother hardly bothers with his own siblings if he deems them unworthy of his limitless time." 
"I'm in over my head," You said simply, shrugging. "I think it's what got me in so deep that maybe he saw something in."
"And what was that?"
"Generosity." You smiled - thin as a strand of hair. "I showed someone too much and he turned out to be a creep who took advantage of me. Elijah's making sure it doesn't happen again. That's all."
Kol's expression twisted with confusion, then cleared with understanding. "A-are you-" He trailed off, unsure.
"Oh come on," You said, chuckling slightly. "I know you've heard it by now."
Your baby's heart had started beating three days before.
The boy's bright grin confirmed your statement. He laughed, though the sound was tired. "You're going to make an excellent mother," He said.
You smiled. "Thanks."
Kol leaned his head back against the wall, weak but grinning, and sighed. "So, what's that book you brought with you?"
With a bubbling laugh, you stood and wandered back to the boundary spell where you'd left your stuff. 
"Wait, don't-" 
"I'm not going anywhere, Kol," You snickered, bending down to snatch the book. Then you made your way back to sit beside him. The boy leaned against your shoulder and though it made you just a tad bit nervous, you let him. Carding a hand through his hair, you opened the book and began to read aloud.
"Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king."
It wasn't long before you lost track of time. Unfortunately, reading out loud ensured that you couldn't hear the footsteps of your friends when Elijah, Rebekah, and Josh returned. If Kol had heard them, he didn't inform you.
The door to the dungeon swung open on hinges that protested rather loudly and your head shot up from your reading.
"Y/N, I'm going to have to ask you to step away from him," Elijah's cold, commanding voice sounded from the entrance.
You bit your lip. "You know, uh… I can explain this," You promised.
"Can you?" Elijah's glare was a frigid sort of rage and it was concentrated entirely on Kol.
You opened your mouth. "No. No, I cannot."
"I see," Your friend hummed. His eyes flicked to you and you thought you felt just a little of what it might be like to jump into a freezing lake. "Y/N, return to your room at once, please. I would like to speak to my brother."
"Okay." You weren't going to object, not when Elijah was providing your room and board. Though, that didn't stop you from looking back at the boy you'd finally brought to the surface. Picking up the tray off the floor, you gave him a small smile and slid the Tupperware container full of peppermint bark back toward him. Then you left without another word.
You didn't hear anything from Elijah, Rebekah, or even Josh for the rest of the day. You sat on your bed and waited, but the only sound that came from downstairs was an exasperated Elijah's indistinct yelling. Whatever discussion took place in the basement lasted for a few hours, but no matter how many times you texted Josh, all he would tell you was how reckless your actions had been.
The following day, you ventured to the kitchen. You weren't going to stay in your room the entire day. If Elijah wanted to stay put, then you would do so while being productive via baking. That day, you decided to bake thin mints. Tasting one, you hummed as the chocolate melted on your tongue. You didn't even hear the kitchen door open. 
"Might I try one of those?" 
You shrieked, jumping nearly a foot into the air. Whirling around, you were rather surprised to find Kol standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling at you - not smirking, just smiling. He looked a lot better
 "I dunno," You said, returning the expression. "I think you're gonna have to say the magic word."
Kol stepped closer, crossing the room until he stood directly in front of you. He reached out and took your hands in his own, pulling them to his chest. “Please?” He said, in the sweetest tone you’d ever heard. The puppy-dog eyes he gave you were the color of melted chocolate. You grinned.
“Here-” You held up one of the squares. “-Catch!”
Tossing the mint up in the air, you giggled as Kol threw his head back and caught it between his teeth. He winked at you, biting a piece off as he leaned against the counter.
“These are fantastic,” He said. “Thank you.”
“Ah… So he does have some manners - good to know.” You nodded to yourself sarcastically and he rolled his eyes.
“Only for you, sweetheart,” He hummed. “Only for you.”
You chuckled. “I see. Now, do you wanna tell me how you convinced Elijah to let you out on - what I’m assuming is - vampire parole?”
Kol shrugged and tried to steal a second mint but you slapped his hand away. “We made a deal,” He said simply. 
“You promised to behave?” You questioned, raising a brow. “You? Just like that?”
“You seem surprised,” He chuckled. 
“Oh. Well, then I’m not being expressive enough because I am astounded!”
Kol waved a hand dismissivly. “Eh, shouldn’t be too hard, I don’t think - not with you manipulating me and all that.”
You blushed. “Is that permission to keep making sweets?”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely.” 
Snickering, you passed him another thin mint. “Well, in that case, Merry Christmas, Kol.” 
He took it. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss sweeter than chocolate to your cheek. “Merry Christmas, darling.”
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eerna · 10 months
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so how's fourth wing so far :]
CHECK IN TIME! OK so I am on chapter 22, which is the 51% mark of the book. I continue to be disappointed, but now I have read enough of the book to know I'm not overreacting or judging too early.
Anachronisms continue to run rampant. At one point the MC uses the expression "Are our wires crossed?", which is an explicit reference to telephones, meaning this world has telephones but not pens. This could have easily been a modern fantasy and better for it, there is 0 reason for keeping it a historical setting.
I am on chapter 22 approximately because I actually accidentally fell asleep during Amber's trial and it was so insanely ridiculous I just signed off, and then rewinded to the beginning of the chapter when I woke up. Dain not believing his best freind in the entire world and a bunch of other people because "AMBER LOVES RULES TOO MUCH TO BREAK THEM!!" is one of the funniest scenes I've ever seen.
The characters.... Good lord literally everyone is just an empty shell of a person, someone who serves a certain role in the story and nothing else. It's been a while since I read a book where not a single character gave me anything to work with. That includes bad things I could complain about, or flaws. No one dares step a toe outside the stereotypical roles - wow, here's the Petite Delicate MC With Hidden Power, her Overprotective Childhood Best Friend (well ok he is depicted as bad in this one but more on that later), her Fun Extroverted New Best Friend, the Mysterious Brooding Dark Haired Bad Boy, the Evil Bitch, the Craaaaazy Murderous Competitor....... Like damn give me SOMETHING.
The deaths that people say raise the stakes and feel brutal and realistic are really funny to me because it is Super Obvious who is gonna be next to die. Why are we suddenly focusing on this random background character? Because they are gonna perish next page. Please pretend to be shocked when it happens. Rinse and repeat.
Ngl the "our dragons are mates and that means we are gonna be serving the army together for the rest of their lives also gotta learn how to work together" as a forced proximity method is an absolutely amazing idea. Too bad I feel nothing for this specific combination of characters.
The romance is so immature. It's not even SJM level relationship development. So Violet is in love with her childhood best friend, but then decides she doesn't want to be with him because there is no "spark" when they kiss. Not because he is controlling and belittles her and has no faith in her. Oh no. It's about how she can't even look at Xaden without getting horny!!!! It's about how she hates him as a person but his BODYYY WOWWWW YUMMMMM!!!! PLENTY of sparks!! At one point she describes his cousin and feels the need to specify the two look similar, but she is NOT physically attracted to him, which is just so funny. The book is still painfully straight and treats me to the "Big Burly Muscular Man and his Tiny Dainty Little Woman" shtick.
It's the EPITOME of those "imagine a book where..." tiktoks. Ohhhh the villain is KILLIN PEOPLE to SAVE THE MC even though she thought HE HATED HER..... Oooohhh he has DARK HAIR and ENCOURAGES HER TO BE STRONG....... Ooooooh the MC has bnded to THE STRONGEST DRAGON EVER and also HAS TWO BONDED DRAGONS which has NEVERRR HAPPENED BEFORE...... It feels like a collection of out-of-context quotes meant to be shown as a greenscreen backdrop while the reader pretends to be screaming into their hand in the foreground.
All in all. I am still not enraged angry the way some other books from the book club have made me, but we still haven't reached the smut so there's plenty of time for the nosedive. I'm just reading this and wondering why this specifically was chosen as the next Big Thing. What makes it special??? I see Nothing. Maybe I will find out if I keep going - I don't personally have to like it, but I'd like to figure out why so many other people do.
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cloudlessly-light · 1 month
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From boys to men (Chapter 2/3)
A/N: This is a continuation of my fic From boys to men that was supposed to be a one-shot, but since I’m me and I love age-gap Hotchniss more than I should, this will now be a three-parter. Chapter one can be read here! Title: From boys to men (Chapter 2/3) Summary: From the moment Emily meets Aaron she knows that she has to have him, she doesn’t care that he’s older than her, doesn’t care that he’s Dave’s best friend. She wants him. Word count: 3,9k Rating: Explicit   Warnings: Smut, oral sex, dirty talk, teasing, praise kink, jealousy, feelings, age difference, (Emily is 22, Aaron is 40-ish)
They had been doing this, whatever they were calling it, for almost three months now. It was fun, sneaking around, having a secret nobody else knew about. Ever since that first afternoon with him, Emily had realized just how better an older man did… well everything. It wasn’t just the sex, but the conversation, the small gestures, the way he could make her feel like the only woman in the world. He always made time for her, something she knew was something he didn’t have much off. And she appreciated every second of it.
It wasn’t dating, she knew that, had to remind herself that a man so much older than her only saw her as something fun, as a way to blow off steam. He used her and she used him too, a twisted game that she found herself loving every second off. It was exciting, the allure in him drawing her in just as easily now as it had the first time they met. But that didn’t stop her from thinking about him more than she should. And she knew that it was dangerous.
Her eyes drift to the clock on her wall as she flips the page of the book she’s paying absolutely no attention to. He was coming over, had texted her before getting on the plane after closing a case and as time dragged on, she felt her excitement only increase. They hadn’t seen each other in almost two weeks, but when her phone had dinged with the incoming message she didn’t even pretend to hesitate before agreeing.
When he knocks on her door she quickly gets up from the couch and looks over her appearance quickly, a smile on her face at her own reflection. She opens the door and is immediately greeted by dark eyes and furrowed brows as he takes in her lack of clothes.
Aaron’s eyes sweep over her form, mouth going dry by the sight of her in dark red underwear and garters, black stockings on her legs. She was a beautiful woman. He found her just as stunning in sweats as he did in lingerie, but the fact that she had taken the time to dress in something she knew he would love, made something in his chest warm while the dull ache of arousal settled low in his stomach. He grips the doorframe tighter, has to force himself to keep his composure but knows that she catches the way his jaw clenches at the sight of her. He had missed her, a feeling he knew he shouldn’t feel.
“Hi.” She breathes as she shivers from the intensity of his gaze. When he walks inside she backs up, barely even noticing the way the door slams behind him as he pushes her up against a wall and her hands grip the lapels of his suit jacket.
“This new?” He hooks a finger under the strap of her bra, voice already dropped low in that way she loves. His eyes follow his finger as he slowly trails it lower, over the cup of her bra and further down until he’s toying with the hem of her thong. When she nods he smiles, his breath mixing with hers as he stands pressed against her, forcing her to feel the power of him.
“Yeah.” She manages, already falling under his spell, she always did. She tries to kiss him but he keeps her trapped against the wall, his lips only grazing hers when he speaks and it’s driving her insane.
“Pretty.” He dips his fingers further down her underwear and is unsurprised to find her wet already. “Too bad you won’t be wearing it for long.”
At that she smirks, dark eyes gleaming up at him.
“That was always the point.”
“Is that so?” He hums, the sound vibrating against her chest as he slowly circles her clit and when she sucks in a breath he chuckles. “I see someone’s already excited.”
“You’ve been making me wait hours.” The slight irritation in her voice does not go unnoticed by him, but before he can say anything he feels her hand cupping him through his slacks. “Besides, I’m not the only one.” She squeezes his hard cock and when he swallows harshly she feels like that’s a win in itself.
He always wanted to be in control, and she relished the few occasions when she caught him off guard. For a moment she thinks she’s winning whatever battle of wills they’re playing but then it’s like he shakes himself out of whatever trance she was still under and he claims her lips in a bruising kiss.
His tongue sweeps over her bottom lip as he swallows down her surprised moan, his fingers dipping inside of her quickly and gathering her wetness on them before breaking the kiss and pushing his fingers between her lips.
“Don’t play games with me, sweet thing.” He mumbled and watched as she sucked her slick of his fingers, a low groan sounding in his throat at the feel of her tongue against the pads of his fingers. “Now, be the good girl I know you are and bend over the couch for me.”
Her mind is still reeling when he steps away from her, body buzzing with arousal. She feels his eyes on her the entire time as she walks the short distance to the couch and slowly bends over it until she’s leaning on her forearms on the seat and her hips are perched high over the back of it. The warmth of his body against her causes her to suck in a breath, his large hands caressing the outside of her thighs and up her hips slowly.
“Fuck I missed this.” He muses as he takes in pale skin and soft curves. “Been too long.” Slowly he kneels behind her, his tongue licking over one of her ass cheeks as he does.
“Then maybe you should do something about it.” She challenges, but her words pack little punch when her voice comes out breathy and bordering on shaking. Still, he snickers behind her, and she feels the soft puffs of air against her clothed center.
“I really should.” He agrees as he pulls her thong to the side to expose her fully to him. “Stay like this.” His words are mumbled, and he isn’t sure she even hears him, but he doesn’t care and instead licks through her slowly.
The moan that erupts from her is needy and she can feel his smug smirk against her folds as his arms wrap around her thighs to keep her open and still for him. She feels his tongue dip inside of her, feels the groan vibrate against her as he tastes her and she arches higher, giving herself fully to him. He had spent many nights taking her apart like this, had memorized exactly what got her off quickly and what would keep her right at the edge.
Tonight he wanted her to come fast and hard.
His lips wrapped around her clit, his tongue flicking it and Emily whimpered his name. With her eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping the fabric of her couch she stayed still as he pushed his tongue inside of her. His fingers were gripping so hard she knew she’d have bruises on her thighs, marks that she’d press on in the morning with nothing but fondness. There was something about having his marks on her body, something about the depravity of it all, that made her crave him again.
“Fuck!” She hissed through clenched teeth when he sucked her clit again, this time not stopping even when her thighs started to tremble and she was biting down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming.
Aaron felt his cock jerk at the breathy sounds coming from her, had been feeling the dark pull of want ever since he got on the plane. He knew how wrong it was, having Emily this way, but he also knew that it was part of the attraction, part of why it seemed impossible to stay away from her. She was like a drug, ever since that first time meeting her months ago, he had been falling victim to her. He should stop, but even when he’s tried he can’t seem to stop thinking about her, and not only the sex. She was funny, incredibly intelligent and strong-willed, having spent evenings arguing with him about the smallest things, and he found himself enjoying their time outside of the bedroom just as much as time spent in it. He wanted more, had wanted more for a long time but he hadn’t dared to voice it because all the reasons why they shouldn’t work kept ringing in his ears.
But he forces those thoughts away, because right now he had her like this, and for now that would have to be enough. Her moans are getting louder, and the sound brings him back to now. He kept his hold on her, kept sucking on her clit and when her legs started to tremble and her hips moved back against his face he knew she was close.
When she comes it’s hard and intense and her knees buckle from the pleasure. She knows he’ll catch her, his hold not lessening even as she shakes and buckles as she muffles her cries into the couch. He doesn’t stop even when she jerks away, in fact his grip only tightens as he sucks her clit harshly.
“T-too much.” She whimpers and she feels him shake his head behind her.
“You can take it.” He tells her simply before licking her clit again, his tongue flicking it quickly and she sucks in a breath.
It doesn’t surprise her that he makes her come again in less than a few minutes. Her body had responded to him from the moment she met him, and he had taken his time learning just how much she could take. She knew he enjoyed taking her apart, that he loved the power of it.
She’s panting, body sweaty and still trembling when he finally stands up. The sound of his zipper is loud as she pants in the otherwise quiet room and when he slaps the tip of his cock against her folds she blushes from the obscene sound of her slick.
“Do you want it?” His hand is soft as he caresses her back, fingers warm as they trail random patterns along her skin.
“Yes.” She gasps, back already arching and pushing back against him, desperately needing to feel him inside of her.
“What do we say?” His fingers grip her hair and tugs warningly. The pain in her hairline shoots straight to her clit.
“Yes, please.” She wants to hate how quickly she gives in to him, but she finds that she can’t. Especially not when he pushes inside of her, giving her what she wants.
“Mm, that’s my good girl.” He hums, satisfaction dripping from his words. He lets go of her hair only to hold her waist, his touch softer now as he enjoys the way her tight walls flutter around his shaft.
She starts to move back against him, and he gasps behind her. She throws him a smile over her shoulder, for all his boasting, he’s just as affected by her. He lets her move back and forth, creating friction for them as he watches the way her body takes him, feels her clenching and listens to her breathless moans. He gives her a few minutes of control, but he takes it back just as easily.
“Aaron!” She whines when he suddenly pushes her back against the backrest of the couch, his hands tight and his hips moving with fast, rough strokes. He’s strong, she’s always impressed by how strong he is, how easily he flips her or carries her, and tonight was no different.
The sound of skin against skin and breathless panting and low groans fill the apartment and Emily knows that her neighbors must be able to hear them. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“You want to come again?” He gets out through gritted teeth. The spasming around his shaft is getting him close but he refused to give in until he felt Emily coming around him.
“Yes, yes, yes.” She hisses at way he forced pleasure from her, hand between her legs and rubbing her clit and cock hitting deep inside of her. She’s moving back against him the best she can, fucking him back just as eagerly as he’s fucking her and when he pinches her clit he sends her crashing into another orgasm. She comes with a strangled cry, her vision blurring from the power of it and somewhere through the blood rushing through her ears she can hear him behind her, swearing, calling her name like a prayer.
He comes with a grunt, low and breathy as he holds her tight against him as he lets himself enjoy his release. They’re still panting, barely down from their respective highs when he pulls out only to gently tug her up and turns her to face him.
She smiles up at him, happy and sated and when he presses a kiss to her lips she hums.
“I missed you.” He tells her and she knows that the flutter in her belly is something she should ignore.
“I missed you too.” She sees him smiling before kissing her again and she takes his hand and leads him towards the bedroom. “Can you stay a while?” She asks as they lay down.
“Yes. I’ll stay all night.”
When she meets his eye there’s something more there, something different.
*
It’s a week later and ever since that night Emily had found herself thinking about him even more. She caught herself smiling at her phone when he texted her and every time it rang she hoped that it was him. It was ridiculous, up until their last night together she had been fine, but that night he had stayed and when he left early the next morning it felt like something had changed. They had talked, loosely, about what they were, about the unspoken rule between them that they shouldn’t get in too deep. And yet, there they were stuck somewhere between admitting that they both wanted more and knowing that they shouldn’t.
She was going to see him today, she knew. Because it was Dave’s birthday and he had invited her over for dinner. So she picked a dress she knew made her breast look good and hugged her body. They weren’t together, but she knew what she wanted and she wasn’t going to make it easy for him to not think about her if he had decided to stop seeing her.
Somewhere in the back of her mind all the reasons why she shouldn’t do this kept ringing. He’s Dave’s best friend, he’s almost twice her age, they’re in completely different phases of life. But she ignored all of them, because those had still been the reasons why not to go there when they started this thing, nothing had really changed. Except, apparently, the way she felt.
“Happy birthday Dave!” She smiles at the older man and lets him pull her into a tight hug. He smelled safe, the same cologne he had worn her whole life enveloping her like an old friend.
“Thank you, Bella.” He kisses her cheek and when she hands him the bottle of scotch he raises an eyebrow. He knew exactly how expensive that bottle was.
“What? You’re more of a parent to me than either of my parents, and it’s your birthday!” She pushes the bottle into his hands and walks inside, quickly heading towards the kitchen. “Do you need help with anything?”
“No, go get yourself a drink. Everybody’s already here so we’ll eat in a little bit.” He ushers her out of the kitchen, intent to keep Emily away from the oven at all costs.
“I’m sorry my parents couldn’t come.” She says and she means it, they usually always spent Dave’s birthday with him. But the older man only shrugs, he knew her parents probably better than anyone, he knew that their work was the most important thing to them.
“They’re still in Paris.” He gives her a flute of champagne and winks. “Besides, my favorite Prentiss is here.”
She laughs, but the sound catches in her throat when she notices Aaron coming towards them along with a woman that’s laughing at something he says. The jealousy was instant, made no better by the fact that the woman was beautiful and kind of similar to herself. They stop right in front of her and she’s never been happier for the political training she received as a child as she schools her features.
“Ah, Aaron perfect.” Dave says as he hands both of them glasses of champagne as well. “You remember Emily?”
“Yes, of course. It’s nice to see you again.” He nods curtly and her eyebrow arches just slightly.
“You too. Thanks for helping me with my AC.” She catches the way he tenses a little and that feels like a win. “And you are?” She turns to the dark-haired woman who’s smiling kindly at her.
“I’m Beth.” She extends her hand and Emily shakes it. “I’m Dave’s publicist.”
“I’m the happy matchmaker and I have to say a good one too.” Dave laughs at the slightly embarrassed chuckle that leaves Beth while Aaron just shakes his head at his best friend. And Emily wants to kill him.
“Nice to meet you.” She forces a smile and then takes a step back. “Excuse me, I have to use the restroom before dinner, we all know how pedantic Dave can be when it comes to his cooking.” She barely hears the laughs before she turns and hurries through the house, she feels her cheeks flush and the jealousy burn like iron in her stomach. It’s jealousy she shouldn’t feel, but it’s too late. She wets some paper with cold water and presses it to her neck.
“Get it together Emily.” She tells her reflection.
By the time she comes back it’s already time for dinner and she thanks whatever lucky star she has that she’s seated between Dave and another old friend of his, Jason Gideon. It gives her more time to calm, to come up with a plan that didn’t end with her being a mess.
In the end it’s simple, if he’s going to make her jealous, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him to ignore her. 
So she spent the night making sure that she got his attention, pushed close against him when walking past or bending over as she helped clear glasses from the table. It was working, his dark eyes on her, his jaw clenching and she couldn’t help the smug smile on her face.
As the night carries on, she finds herself being one of the last people to leave. Only Aaron, Beth and Dave’s girlfriend Erin still left. She had barely spoken to Aaron, but she knew she had his attention, his dark gaze rarely leaving her.
Aaron walks into the kitchen in search of another bottle of red when he sees her. She’s leaning over the counter, her cleavage showing as she licks chocolate sauce from a spoon. Her eyes find him and she smirks at the way his eyes zero in on her when she licks her bottom lip.
“Having a good time?” She asks casually and he feels the urge to touch her, had wanted to grab on to her and not let go all night.
“It’s a dinner, much like many else I’ve been to.” He takes a couple of steps closer to her and looks around to make sure they’re alone. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” She feigns dumb and licks more chocolate sauce from her spoon. He follows her pink tongue with his eyes, he knew exactly what she could do with that tongue and it was driving him insane.
Ever since their last night together he had wanted to be with her again. Something was different, or maybe it was just the fact that he had stopped trying to ignore that his feelings towards her were more than primal. But he wanted her, and then she showed up looking like a goddess and he could feel his brain malfunction.
“You know exactly what.” He wraps his hand around her wrist to keep her from dipping the spoon into the bowl for a third time.
“What’s your problem?” She twists out of his hold and turns to him.
“My problem is that when you do that all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss you.” He tells her lowly and she chuckles, the sound bordering on sarcastic.
“Is that right? Is that why you brought a date?” She says the words without thinking but the second she does she can see the way his mind is reeling. He’s a profiler, of course he would have caught on.
“Is that why you’ve been behaving like this? You’re jealous?” He laughs and the sound makes her furious. Her eyes narrow but she doesn’t say anything, she didn’t want to cause a scene in Dave’s home, so instead she walks away. “Emily, wait!”
“We’re done here.” She mutters as she hurries towards the patio where she knew she’d be alone. He follows her, his steps long and determined but she doesn’t stop until she’s outside breathing some fresh air. She continues further away from the house, to where they couldn’t be seen from inside with Aaron still following her closely.
“Leave me alone.” She tells him, her voice surprisingly steady even as anger flows through her veins.
“It’s not like that.” He tries to take her hand but she pulls away.
“It’s not what?” She huffs, her arms crossing over her chest. “This isn’t you using me for whatever ego boost you’re getting until someone like her comes along?”
“What? No!” His eyebrows furrow, feeling sad that she’d think he’d ever think of her that way. “I didn’t know that she would be here. Dave set me up.”
At that she faulters.
“What?” Suddenly she feels mortified, cheeks flushing in embarrassment and she looks down at the ground.
“I have no interest in her.” He gently grabs her chin and makes her look back at him. “I don’t want her, Emily.” He takes a step closer to her and smiles when she relaxes enough to uncross her arms.
“Then what do you want?” She can feel herself holding her breath as she waits for his reply. Suddenly everything felt real in a way it never had before.
“I want you.” He takes her hand and when she doesn’t pull away this time he squeezes it.
“Really?” She takes a step closer to him, breathes in his familiar scent and enjoys the heat of him as he wraps his arms around her.
“Yeah. I’m not saying it’ll be easy. We have some… obstacles.”
“Like the fact that you’re old?” She laughs when he narrows his eyes at her and he pinches her side.
“Brat.” He mutters and she smiles at him before they turn serious again. “Do you want to do this? With me?” He asks quietly.
“I do. I want you.” She pulls him into a kiss, and even though they had kissed probably 100 times before, this one felt different. It felt like a promise.
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docholligay · 4 months
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The Night Watch by Sarah Waters
THIS IS ALL SPOILERY AND ALL OF IT IS JUST GUSHING AND RAMBLING AND VIBES. NO ACTUAL REVIEW WE DIE LIKE MEN.
I love this book. We all know I love this book. I have read this book at least a dozen time sand we all know I'm going to read it again. I'm never sure whether I like this or Tipping the Velvet more, but I think as a piece of literature, this is the better book. (But Tipping the Velvet is the one I often recommend to people. Sarah Waters can be hard for some people to hang with and Tipping is her fluffiest.)
Kay Langrish, what a fucking piece of work this bitch is. She's so pathetic, and I do sort of resent her for it, but also I love her. I want to beat the shit out of her. She's Poor Little Rich Butch who literally shuts herself the fuck away and gazes out the window all day. She's one of those people for whom the war was the best thing that ever happened to her, and people like this do exist! Some people are great in a crisis, and some people are ONLY good in a crisis. Is it about her being butch and that being easier in wartime? Sure, but Mickey has it even worse and seems to manage being a member of society. (Mickey is the best person in this novel and perhaps of all time. I love her so much, she takes it all in so much stride in her shitty little houseboat, and then she offers it to Kay. Mickey will be played by Lena Oxton in the blorbo adpatation in my head and Kay will be played by Haruka Tenoh) I think Kay is just a fucking rich loser, and I love that for her.
Viv! What a moron. My wife read this book and her takeaway was the the book was about "Gay losers and a token sad straight woman" and she is not wrong. I love how much Viv hates her life in the present day and how pathetic she feels it all is, but she can't get away from it, because! Yes!! I always privately hope that the book will be different this time and there's an afterword where Viv goes and finds Kay and they get together, because I think Viv could be perfectly happy being Kay's wife and being doted on. She wants that! And Reggie will never ever give it to her (blah blah not being into women whatever it's my fantasy afterword and I can do what I want with it)
Speaking of morons let's talk about Helen. I hate Helen and I LOVE her storyline. I love her absolute dedication to ruining her own life. I'm not saying she has to love Kay, I would love to be doted on by Kay but it's not for everyone, and I'm not entirely convinced they didn't get together for any reason other than Helen felt grateful to her. BUT, what about with Julia? What about her insane reactions, the way she barely allows Julia to have friends, the way every time they go a party Helen acts like everyone is trying to fuck Julia? She basically manifests an affair into happening by her constant assumption that it is. IF Julia is sleeping around, of course that's her bad behavior, but let's not pretend like Helen's ridiculous suspicion and quarreling over nothing, her low-key resentment of Julia's success, isn't doing anything.
And Duncan, man, talk about your easily led, whatever's happening is what may as well happen, type. His thing with the junk that he considers 'antique' is so sad. He lives in a little boy's room and is kept like a little boy as a sexual pet and it would be disturbing if it wasn't so much just what Duncan had decided was the logical next step just like killing himself along with Alec. He was happier in fucking prison, it almost seems because there at least everything was just...decided for him.
I wonder if Waters isn't making a commentary about the idea that London and the UK more broadly was "never better than in the Blitz" and all that Blitz spirit stuff which i confess I can be real prone to as well, but I don't live there and am allowed to engage in a bit of romance over a situation that in no way involves me. Is Waters saying, "If we think that we, as a country, city, community, were never better than when we were actively being firebombed, it might just be that we have decided that, and have decided not to make ourselves better than that moment. Anytime, we could decide to be a better London & UK, but we aren't doing that. We're staring at the rubble and wishing we were there." I don't know! I have literally never thought this before it just came to me while writing this, it might be bullshit.
Basically the summary of this novel could be "Four people ruin their own lives because they aren't sure they deserve anything better" and I wouldn't argue with that. I love this book so fucking much.
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pub-lius · 4 months
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I just wanna say, DUDE. The majority of what I know about amrev comes from your blog. Your in-depth posts literally have me FOAMING AT THE MOUTHH I don't have much time to read longer books due to school but I wanna feed my obsession so do you have any books on the shorter side or some websites/archives I can research/read a bit quicker? If not it's totally fine.
Also off topic but I'm loving "It Began About Dusk" on AO3 <3
OH MY GOD THE FLATTERY‼️‼️‼️ you’re making me blush here anon. im so glad that you find my posts helpful!!! AND IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY FICS i have a chapter of it began about dusk in the drafts rn so you’ll get more content soon
now this is a tricky question because im absolutely insane and ive barely ever read short books. right now im reading His Excellency by Joseph J Ellis and i recommend it!! its only around 2-300 pages which is the shortest history book ive got VSJWBW primary sources can be really good to get in book form, things like Common Sense by Thomas Paine, Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior (Washington’s rule book), and Memoir of Lieut. Col. Tench Tilghman, Secretary and aid to Washington are all primary sources i have on my shelf that are short and sweet.
i also have Hercules Mulligan by Micheal J. Obrien which i haven’t read but is VERY small. there is also James Monroe by Gary Hart which is short but i have not finished (i dont even truly remember reading it but i annotated part of it apparently), The Drillmaster of Valley Forge by Paul Lockhart is a little longer than those others, but still isn’t chernow levels of wrong, but i also haven’t read that one. Thomas Jefferson and the Tripoli Pirates by Brian Kilmeade and Don Yaeger isn’t the most serious history book, but it is pretty good and an easy read.
as for secondary source websites, start with encyclopedias ie Britannica, which post short articles on different historical figures and events that give you the overview. from there im gonna point you to the National Park Service. this is the best thing the US government has ever made for researchers. this is all your battlefields, winter encampments, historical reproductions, and former capitals. also check out private residences turned museums, such as Mount Vernon, Monticello, and Schuyler Mansion. these institutions have an abundance of easily accessible information on more than just the people who lived there.
now the Library of Congress was a good decision on Jefferson’s part, but it can be inaccessible if you don’t know how to use it well because their website is one of my least favorite things about being alive. so instead, i recommend using Founders Online for any primary source regarding the founding fathers or amrev figures. the Washington Papers are filled to the brim with almost everything that went out of headquarters during all 8 years of the war. founders online is the shit
all of these websites i’ve mentioned are free to access, because i do not pay money on any research tools besides books out of spite for late stage capitalism. also any primary source is 100% accessible online. that includes memoirs and court transcripts, which can be very helpful
also i really do recommend watching documentaries and informational videos on the subjects you’re interested in while doing work or other things if you’re someone who does that (ik some people don’t have background noise but im just assuming you’re as neurodivergent as i am) because you can absorb just a little of that information and it being about a subject of interest can make academics seem a little less miserable!
i hope this is helpful and if you have absolutely any further questions, feel free to ask. i know im very privileged to have the time and resources to read long ass books, which is why i very freely share the information i absorb with the public bc i believe education should never be gatekept by anyone. so if you have any questions, im happy to research them for you, or at least point you in the right direction. love ya!!
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ahlovelightaflame · 9 months
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12:15 PM ~ *Lee Chan*
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Summary: Dino (as a celebrity) has been neglecting your friendship. It hurts more than it should because of unspoken feelings.
Pairing: Lee Chan X Fem!Reader
Genre: Fluffyish Timestamp
Word Count: 913
Warning: Slight sadness but it gets resolved
Masterlist
Taglist: @foxwinter
“C’mon, Y/n. It’s not like you’re going to be doing anything else today.” Chan pestered you as you were looking for a new book to read since you finished your last one.
You glanced at him, a frown on your lips, before returning to the shelves. “Whether I’m doing something later or not is none of your concern. Not only that, but I’m not going to be used as some form of clout so the paparazzi can get off your case about that starlit you broke up with. Now, if you asked me as a friend, I would have been more inclined to a favorable answer. But since you didn’t-”
“Fine.” He huffed. “Will you go get coffee with me as a friend?”
This time you faced him with a big cheesy grin on your face. “Well, when you put it like that, no!”
Chan instantly started sputtering at your words. “But Y/n! I asked you as a friend like you asked!”
“I said I would be more inclined if you asked me as a friend. I never said I would say yes.” You shot back before turning away from him again.
He groaned. “Why are you so mean to me? I thought we were friends.”
“Unfortunately, we are friends. But ever since you got all rich and famous, you act like I don’t matter anymore.” You mumbled under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He demanded, his eyes narrowing. Well, so much for mumbling.
You sighed, averting your eyes from him. “Look, Chan. You’re one of my best friends and I would love to go get coffee with you. Perhaps then I can pretend it’s like the old days where your old friends still mattered to you, where I still mattered. But I can’t. I know it’s just your ploy to get the talk off how you and that actress broke up. You’re using me, like you use everyone else in your life. I’m sorry, I just can’t do that for you. It’s not fair to me, and honestly, it’s not fair to you either. So if all you came here to do was to get me to fall for your faux charisma, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to say no.”
With a defeated sigh, you were about to move on to the next shelf of books when you felt his hand encircle your wrist. You’d be lying if you didn’t say you gasped and tears welled in your eyes. “Y/n, I am so, so sorry I made you feel like you were any less than a priority. To be honest, you’ve always been my mind since we ran into each other that day back in high school. You are the world to me and I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t. I want to make it up to you, but only if you’ll let me. If you want me to walk out of your life forever, I will, though it will be insanely hard for me to do because you’re the only one for me.”
Turning to look at him, you sniffed and wiped your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
A blush started to creep up the back of his neck as he gave an anxious smile. “I really care about you. Like, more than a friend should care about their friend. Honestly, I would love it if you saw me as more than just a friend, but with the way I’ve been treating you lately because of my celebrity status, I understand if you don’t. I haven’t been fair to you and I shouldn’t put you in a position you’re not comfortable with. I’m just glad I can finally get that off my chest after all these years of pining after you.”
You gave a choked laugh, trying to keep yourself from spilling any tears. “Jeez Chan, when did you get so mature?”
“Well, you kind of have to grow up fast in the entertainment industry.” He admitted with an anxious chuckle.
As his hand left your wrist, you spoke up. “I can’t forgive you so easily for what you’ve put me through. But we can start over. I don’t want to lose you, Chan. And if what you say is true, that you like me as more than a friend, that makes me happy because I feel the same way. But let’s try a friendship again before we go further.”
It took a second for him to process your words before a giddy smile found its way onto his lips. You chuckled as he pulled you into a tight hug. “Yes, we can start over! Thank you, Y/n. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I’ll be there and never leave you behind ever again! You’re too precious for me to lose.”
Again you laughed, before nonchalantly saying, “So, coffee?”
He nodded before dragging you out of the bookstore. “There’s this really niche artisan coffee shop not too far from here I know you’ll just adore!”
“Chan, I don’t think I can afford that.”
“Don’t worry about that.” He winked. “I can pay for it all.”
You shook your head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that!”
“Hey, what’s the point of having all of this love if I can’t throw it away for the ones I love?”
Sighing, you mumbled with a smile, “What am I going to do with you?”
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corviids · 1 year
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hi birdie! just saw your post about impostor syndrome hitting you and i just wanted to remind you what an excellent artist and writer you are. i know it's difficult to think so when impostor syndrome is at its highest, but i do hope this brings some comfort anyways! <3
as a writer, i cannot being to explain why your writings are out of this world, insane, crazy, wonderful. whatever emotion you try to go for, you achieve it in a way that it just clings to the reader's mind and carves a place in our bones. your dialogues, your world-building, the details, the characterisation, the sadness, the joy, the despair, the love, the yearning, the rage, the passion…. i've cried reading your writings, because they hit so hard in my heart that i just cannot stay quiet about it. and i have devoured your smut, and i have laughed with the lucemond kids' shenanigans. you have a way with words, you are so unique. i consume every single piece you publish, and i would consume any book of your own if you published, too. you were one of the first writers i read and followed when i came to this fandom and i just hope i can keep supporting you in anything you do.
as an artist, your talent knows no limits. that magic you have putting emotions into words, well, you also have it when you draw the faces of your characters. it's like looking at them in the eye, their smiles and the twitches and tilts you capture so well, and it feels like i'm looking at a real person with real emotions. i'm in love with your style, from the sketch to the colouring to the way i can see any of your art out of context and know it's yours. you have magic in your fingers, and daily dust in your soul and in your mind, and that's why every single piece you draw and you write is a treasure to be kept and protected, love and cherished.
personally, i know we haven't talked much, but you have been so kind to me. and i just love your sense of humor, your commitment, the way you treat with such respect and love your readers. how you give your heart to answer to our asks and questions just as you give it to create content.
we're very lucky to have you in this fandom, a nd i will always be grateful for every single thing that you have given us that has made me fell even more in love with lucerys, with aemond, with lucemond. with this site and with the culture of fan creating and providing.
you're a star, and i just hope i can continue to see how much you achieve as time goes by! we have your back! you don't know how much your writings and your art mean to people, and i know because i'm one of those and i have friends with whom i talked about your creations! you made hundreds of people from different places in the world to fall in love with what you do! i would say that's such a pretty neat job! <3 <3 <3
hope you feel better soon! i'm here if you ever need to talk! sending you the biggest hug and the best of vibes!!!!!! <3 <3 <3
i’ve waited a couple days to answer this because i’m genuinely speechless. i don’t cry very easily for reasons but reading this, especially after such a hard day, made me tear up. there really aren’t words to convey how grateful i am for everyone here that has supported my works. lucemond and this little community we have built have really became a safe space for me to ramble and share my stuff without fear.
i’m eternally grateful for every single person that send me asks, comments, or just comes round to check my stuff out. this is one of, if not the kindest things i’ve ever received and i hope that i can continue to make y’all as happy as you all make me <333
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gaydiation-poisoning · 11 months
Text
This was originally gonna be a reply to a moot but it's going on too long so I'm gonna make my own post, incoherent rant inbound
To me BOTW's story was a poorly paced mess of underdeveloped characters, unrealized themes and boring cutscenes.
I adore the game, haven't spent 2000+ hours in it and completed all shrines three times over for nothing,
The world and details were utterly incredible, easily the best open world I've ever played in, but to me, the story was told so badly as to ruin what were otherwise fantastic character concepts.
I enjoy a lot of the theming and symbolism, the Silent Princess stuff in particular was just...mmm delicious I wanna eat that part of the narrative
It's such a good story, but sparse short cutscenes that show very little beyond basic character introduction, and then having 80% of a characters' growth be shown in fucking reading in game books (some of which are behind a FUCKING PAYWALL) rather than through playing the damn game is just like...objectively bad video game storytelling, at least for a game like this
BOTW tried to tell a complex story with nuanced characters but it did it in a game where the focus physically could not be on those characters, resulting in what felt like an underbaked mess that was missing massive pieces
And I can feel people arguing that "Well LINK is missing pieces of his memory so the gaps in the narrative are acKCHEWALLY GOOD" Like
Okay
Sure
If that works for you that's great, all power to you, but it's still not good storytelling.
There tends to be a general (but not rock solid) rule of writing, 'If this isn't the most interesting part of your character's life, then why aren't we seeing that?' I feel like BOTW gets hit hard when stepping on that particular rake.
You're getting bits and fragments of a really cool narrative that...ultimately means very little in the end. Trying to make a complex narrative work in a game where it's possible to leap out of the tutorial area and book it right to the final boss equipped with nothing but your skivvies and a stick is REALLY HARD and it's VERY EASY to make your story lackluster and cause it to suffer in order to accommodate that non linear playstyle. And boy does BOTW's story suffer.
Simultaneously trying to tell this narrative that's deep and complex while also having to work around the fact that the player might not even do the story stuff caused that story to have a sort of...non presence in the world, a much weaker presence than it deserved at the absolute least.
To me BOTW's story does not fit a nonlinear Zelda game, and honestly probably would have worked much better in a more traditional linear one.
It was such a good game, with such a good story, but it's disjointed pacing and resulting lack of major impact resulted in it utterly failing to get me invested. Which is so insanely frustrating.
Which is impressive, considering my ass is a constant Zelda lore junkie who will leap on the smallest story details and devour it, and yet I cannot see the supposed storytelling brilliance half the fandom seems to
Follow up reply on how these problems relate to totk eventually???
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juliedrawz · 1 year
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Cancíon de Vida
Summary: Héctor's afterlife had been traversed by tragedies until one fateful night on Dia de los Muertos in the year 2017 changed it all. Not only his road to recovery begins. While Miguel is trying his best to bring justice to his great-great-grandfather, unknown mysteries start to unwrap themselves. Things that will not only impact and completely change Héctor's life forever. What if some things aren't quite the way they seem? And how do you pick up your existence after so much hurt?
Main Characters: Héctor, Imelda, Ernesto, Ceci, (Miguel)
Rating: M
A/N: A very special thanks to my besties who have been the first to support me, are regulary beta-reading and keeping up with the insane rollercoaster of emotions, which is this journey of writing that book. I love you guys ❤ - Will I keep tweaking? Perhaps? I don’t know ... before I print the thing I surely will but that’s in the future. (I will only print it for myself and a few special persons I will choose later on!)
                 ~ Prologue ~
With a cry and a twirl of glowing marigold petals, Miguel was gone.
The Rivera family stood frozen in shock, watching the scene in front of them with great sorrow. Each of them held their very own emotion deep inside. It was painful, all of it. Both, the newly found knowledge and the situation they were in. The man they had been told to hate and forget, had all along been innocent and was now about to fade away. It felt like a cruel joke, a sick twist of fate. Each of them wished that there would be something that they could do but there was nothing. Their only hope now was Miguel. If he would succeed, Héctor would live. But most likely, that was too late.
“Héctor!” Imelda clutched her husband’s hand tighter, voice heavy with desperation and panic, “Please hold on! You have to hold on! Don’t leave me again! I cannot li-”
“Imelda,” with the last strength he could bring up, he lifted his hand to her left cheekbone, “it’s ok!”
“No!” she choked, lips trembling, “nothing’s ok! You are fading and it’s my fault!”
“No! Don’t blame yourself! I ... I don’t want you to!”
“But it’s true!” she wailed, “all my life I’ve thought ... I’ve believed this lie and I should have known better! I should have known that you would never abandon me!”
Héctor managed a small smile. His eyes were filled with so much love, it drove daggers into her spiritual heart. How could he just forgive her that easily after all she’d done?
“I‘m so, so sorry Imelda!” He said. Deep regret and sadness in each of his words. “I should have never left Santa Cecilia, I - Augh!” Another painful seizure of orange, glowing light, shook him.
“Héctor!” Imelda cried, bending down further, “No! No, no, no, please!” tears welled up in her eyes. “Please! Please ... you have to hold on a bit longer! Miguel will-”
He turned his head back to her, taking deep, heavy, rattling breaths. “It was my dream to make music and share it with the world once. But I never left because I wanted fame. I left because I wanted to provide for my family. You and Coco!”
“I know! I know.” Imelda moved his hand to her lips, letting the first tears fall. Normally, she wasn’t the kind of woman who would cry easily, and usually, her pride would keep her from succumbing to it. But ever since her husband hadn’t returned, she had cried more than she had ever thought she could. All in secret. Even in the land of the dead. Never had she let her family catch her but now was different. Now she didn’t care anymore who saw her. “I ... I was so heartbroken a-and angry and blind!” She sobbed, “Oh Héctor, I should have listened to you earlier! If only I-”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here now!” Héctor tried to push himself to smile again but with each second, he felt weaker. He wanted to hide how bad he actually felt. Awfully tired and brittle. He knew he was seconds away from fading. He could feel it. Yes, he wished he could have seen his daughter one more time and spent more time with his beloved wife and family. Yes, he didn’t want to fade and yes, he was scared. But through it all, he also felt confident. He knew that everything would be fine, even with him gone. Who knew, eventually, whatever awaited him would one day reunite him and his wife, his soulmate, his one true love. “I love you, Imelda. More than anything! - Argh!” His body shook and glowed worse than all the times before and his face scrunched up in pain while the sun climbed higher and higher over the couple’s shoulders.
“No!” Imelda pushed her hands under her husband’s back, pulling him onto her lap. “I love you too! I’ve never and I will never stop loving you!”
The brightest smile Héctor had smiled in the past decades spread on his lips. “You ... you forgive me then?”
“I already have!” She leaned down to touch his forehead with hers. “Though there is nothing to forgive! You did everything right, mi amor!”
“When Coco arrives ... tell her ... tell her I’m sorry! Tell her ... how much I love her!” He received a nod.
“I will! I promise you, I will!”
“I’m glad. At least I get to see you one last ... time.” With a deep breath, Héctor’s eyes closed, his smile faded, his body faltered and the markings on his skull started glowing faintly.
“No!” Imelda cried, “No!”
The sun had risen over their heads. Her warm, golden light stretched out over the horizon and illuminated the whole backstage.
“Héctor?” Imelda whispered hoarsely, “mi vida?”
He didn’t respond anymore and with the silence, Imelda felt a cold come over her that she had never felt before. A pain spread through her whole being, worse than any wound. Worse than any pain she had ever felt. A crushing sensation that took her breath away. It burned and choked her. She couldn’t bear to watch her true love fade, so she pulled him closer to her chest, hugged him tightly, and then let out a bone-chilling, heart-wrenching wail. A scream full of sorrow and grief. A cry that mirrored all her frustration, her anger, her bitterness, her hurt, her desperation, and her regret. But mostly, her pain of losing him.
Oscar and Felipe turned their heads away. It was too painful to watch their sister bawl over her, soon-to-be-gone, husband. Rosita and Victoria comforted each other by hugging while Julio just placed his hand on his daughter’s lower arm. There was nothing they could do or say.
By now the sun had risen entirely. Time passed and each second felt like an awful eternity. Imelda didn’t dare to move or look. Too strong were her grief and pain. There were no words that could describe how much she hated herself at that moment. How much she wanted to turn back time and reverse her mistakes. And if it only was for the time Héctor had first found her and aimed to explain himself.
He had been overjoyed to see her. He had run up to her, picked her up, and spun her around. And what had she done? Before he could even try to explain himself, she had smashed her boot into his face so hard, it had sent his head flying straight across the street. Then she had yelled at him and had called him all kinds of ugly names. Her heart had broken into yet another thousand pieces, even though she had believed it couldn’t break any further. Each time and each year she had chased him away. Oftentimes not only with her boot but with Pepita, and he was presistant. Deep down, she was well aware that she didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help herself. No matter how hard she had tried to suppress the feeling that something wasn’t right, she couldn’t. She had tried to ignore it, tried to forget it, forget him. She had tried to hate him with all her might but she never could. He was her amor verdadero, her true love. She could never hate nor forget him. But forgetting was just what was killing him a second time.
Imelda had also thought that she had time. That had been her biggest mistake up to this day. She had thought that she had enough time to eventually, one day, find the courage to jump over her pride and hear him out. That’s when Miguel had come. It had been a wink of fate. He had solved the problem and unveiled the whole truth and all that in one night. And now that she’d finally realized the truth, now that she had the chance to get her husband back, it was too late.
“Urgh ...”
Her thoughts got interrupted by a weak groan that came from below. Immediately Imelda’s eyes shot down, finding her husband still in her arms, leaning against her chest. He hadn’t faded? He was still here? Coco remembered? “Héctor?” She breathed, a glimmer of relief tingling in her chest as she blinked tears. “Héctor?”
The heads of her family turned back around, gaping in astonishment. Another groan followed and his eyes slowly opened.
“Héctor!” Imelda repeated, still in shock.
His eyes lifted, an expression of pure confusion followed, “Imelda? Am I dead? Is this heaven?”
“You are dead but ...” She blinked, confused herself, “not faded. Coco she ...”
“Remembered me!” Héctor beamed. “Our Miguelito made it!”
“He did!” She started beaming as well, laughing in relief.
Héctor’s eyes opened further. As he realized his position, they trailed down to his wife’s chest on which she had him pressed and he grinned. As soon as she noticed, she pushed him away with an offended gasp. That Fool. The nerve he had. There he had been at the edge of Nirvana and the first thing he did after surviving that, was boldly and shamelessly flirting with her. He didn't need words. And she hated herself for liking it.
“Ay!” he dropped down full force, bones clattering on the ground. 
“Dios, I’m sorry! Are you hurt?” Her gasp was drowned out by Héctor’s laughter, which got her angry again and at the same time filled her with indescribable happiness. “Stop laughing, tonto! You almost faded!” 
“I know!” He winced as she pushed his shoulder, causing her to flinch away and straight up apologize a second time. He chuckled once more before growing serious again. “I’m still here.”
“Sí.” she crossed her arms.
“Now what?” Lifting himself into a sitting position, he felt his chest and then looked at her expectantly.
Now what? His question caught her off guard, just as the loud cheering of her family behind them. Suddenly an overjoyed Dante came rushing toward them. Heckling, he leaped between the couple, licking Héctor’s skull and hands wildly.
“Ah! Dante, no! Stop it!” He laughed, trying to twist himself free. But Dante didn’t think of stopping. Instead, he turned around and ran his tongue over Imelda’s face next. She tried to push him off but to no avail.
“Augh! No, not me!” She groaned.
Dante wagged his tail back and front seemingly in lightspeed, causing funny sounds on the couple’s bones. He kept on licking Imelda until she was finally able to push him off. “Enough!” She told him strictly. Intimidated, he retreated to the side, causing her to topple forward, crashing onto her husband’s chest.
His laughing got exchanged with his goofy grin. “Still falling for me, eh?”
Imelda’s mouth opened, closed, opened, and closed again. She was certain that if she still had skin, she would have blushed furiously. That foolish grin that had made her fall in love with him in the first place all those years ago, made the tingling feeling in the area where her stomach had been, reappear. Then, as soon as the grin had come, it vanished again. Now his expression was entirely different. His pupils enlarged as he gave her a look of absolute adoration. It had been decades since she had looked that deep into his eyes. Quickly she shook herself out of her trance and scrambled away from him.
Sighing, she got up, holding out a hand for Héctor to take. He hesitated for a moment, searched in her eyes if it was really ok, and then took her hand, letting himself get pulled up. Suddenly shy and bashful again both looked away. Héctor‘s brow-bones furrowed and his right hand grabbed his left arm like he always used to do when he became flustered. Imelda on the other hand pressed her lips together and wrung her hands. Words itching to be spoken but left in silence.
Felipe and Óscar both wanted nothing more than to run to them and hug them but they kept themselves from doing so. It was still weird after all those years. They had never truly believed that Héctor had left their sister on purpose but running up to him now seemed inappropriate. Rosita and Victoria just as much as Julio kept away as well. None of them dared to come too close to the couple. Or Héctor for that matter.
Héctor thought. He wondered how things were now between him and his wife. They had somewhat reconciled but that was because both had thought that he was about to vanish to dust. Now he was alive. Well, as alive as one could call it.
“Erm ...” he dared a glance to the side, finding his wife looking just as emotionally conflicted as he himself. “Imelda?” His voice was reduced to an unsure whisper.
Just as she was about to say something, Pepita came flying back above their heads. Circling for a moment, she landed right next to her master. Her big head instantly turned to Héctor, her pupils became slits and she lowered herself down, stalking towards him just like she had moments ago with Ernesto.
Gritting his teeth, Héctor slowly walked backward, lifting his hands in defense. “Uh, Pepita? You’re not angry with me anymore, are you? Nice kitty! ... Good kitty? Please don’t eat me!” He lifted his arms to shield himself.
“Pepita! Déjalo ser!” Imelda demanded but this time her alebrije didn’t listen. She kept walking until she stood right in front of Héctor, who grimaced and leaned away.
Fearful he closed his eyes and waited for the biggest, most rough, and wet tongue to swoop over his whole head. Wait ... tongue? Pepita licked Héctor with so much force, it lifted him a few inches from the ground, a deep, loud purr erupting in her chest as she looked at her owner’s mate with great satisfaction. Her lick had ruffled his, already messy hair and caused it to now stand in each possible direction. 
Imelda couldn’t help but snort a laugh at her husband’s expression. A mixture of dumbstruck surprise and disgust. “Ay, mi amado tonto,” She said, still with amusement in her voice. “Vámonos a casa!”
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unioncolours · 9 months
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Majsasaurus - A self reflection
One thing I am allergic to is when others talk ill about their own writing, chapter lenghts or their own personal way of producing a labour of love. It makes my skin crawl, and I cannot understand why they choose to publicly hurt something they made out of love. I also see it as an offense to their readers, and I would never offend my readers in such ways.
My thoughts about this makes me reflect too on why I never do that or feel that way.
This post will be a personal self-reflection on why I love my own writing beyond any self doubt. Please do not see me as an arrogant person. See me as a person who has good self-confidence and has the right to have good self-confidence. See me as someone who from a young age learned that my writing is worth love.
Read more if you are interested. If you want to argue with me, do not read. I don't want to argue with anyone. I just want to reflect on a personal matter.
I, like most of other writers, started young, from the moment I held a pen - or later handled a keyboard to write on Word, which we had easily accessed since my family have had PCs ever since PCs came into commercial production.
I, Bex, was writing a book at a young age, like many other children! I was maybe seven-eight and wrote a book about my toy horses, with an insanely big cast (I collected toy horses....). Every chapter was 2 pages long, font size 18, row spacing 1. For every chapter I finished I asked my dad to beta read it for me. He did. The book was at least 50 pages long when it was finished (and yes, I finished it... took me along time though).
My dad helped with grammar, and most often I heard praise about my plot. He beta read the entire thing and helped me edit it. This meant I got used to having my works read by someone else from a very young age, and got used to someone who was willing to put down their time to read and value my art. The "book" was called "The Horse Moor" 😂
I started very soon to get praises in school. The praises were for my plots, for my creativity, for my vocab. For a child my grammar was immaculate and I never recieved any critisism. I was beaming. I got to know I was good. The entire class got to know I was good, since the teacher let me often read my own stories out loud to the entire class. I stood in front of everyone, reading my own stories out loud, and my friends and enemies had no choice but to listen to me, haha. I got used to advertise and push my own stories onto other people.
When I was 8 my mother put me in acting, one of the best choices she ever made for me. The shows were seasonal each summer, and my mum came and watched every single show (they were fifteen in total each season). This made me feel like I was worth a lot, that I was loved and my mother used fifteen of her evenings each summer for five years to watch me act the same show over and over again. This taught me that my art (in this case acting) was worth people's time. It was worth my mother's fifteen evenings. I was worth time and space. (When I was fifteen the news paper even wrote a review of the current show and wrote that I was one of the best actors on stage. Imagine that boost for a fifteen year old.)
My self-confidence was so high. It even got to the point I was in school asked to write my own show to show to the parents, which I did when I was eleven years old. I wrote my own show, and solo acted in front of the entire school and everyone's parents and showed now strangers my writing.
Up until my teenage years no one had ever, ever, said a bad word about my writing or any of my art in any capacity. It didn't even cross my mind that someone might have any critique towards my stories ever. At the age of twelve I won an award in school for my stories, and recieved it in front of the entire school and everyone's parents. I got it confirmed that I was the "best" in my class. And I truly felt like the best in the world.
In my country, creative writing is not part of the curriculum and after the age of thirteen we never had creative writing again in school. I sought out a little creative writing club - we were three members of it. During the club sessions we gave feedback to each other, but never on the actual writing styles such as sentence lenghts, choices of words, or anything of the likes; we fed each other positivity like drugs, we loved and held each other's writings - and so did even the teacher. I have never in my life had the experience that so many on tumblr talk about, the "evil" English teacher who put their own creative writing biases into the kids with thesauruses and the likes. I have just learned to keep on going with my own writing style. I got grammar corrected, but never artistic choices, ever. It taught me that my writing style is good as it is and to never compete with my other writer friends.
I wrote a lot at home, three entire novels between 14-21, whereas one never got completed, the second is completed but will never be read by anyone because it was mainly a practise (which I saw as practise, I didn't write that novel for the sake of numbers, or praise or anything. It's around 70k just Bex practising writing a novel from start to finish) and the final one is bookbinded and "published". I have a fourth one unfinished at 80k from when I was 21-23. (The reason it's unfinished is because I started writing fics instead haha). The bookbinded novel was the one I let friends read (aka, I pushed the novel onto them), five in total, and every one of them told me they loved it. Lies or not, I beamed. And I believe them. And I believe myself.
In 2014 I found a new group for playwrights who had a chance to become professionals, and I joined. I have gone to those meetings and lessons for nine years now. I thrive. I get critique on my stories, and I correct them, and I grow and I get love and support and amazing feedback. I have seen my plays been put up by professional actors, including a very profilic one here who acted in my play Kiss of Death. And for every damn show I have worked in for nine years, my parents and grandparents have been there rooting for me and giving me flowers and chocolate. For nine years my confidence has grown and my plots and writing techiniques have too.
At 24 I started writing fanfics, in English, and opened up my words for whoever stumbled upon them. Of course I was nervous, but due to my background I had already finished an entire long fic before posting a single chapter. Of confidence and knowledge in my own worth I did not really focus on the kudos or lack of many comments. The writing and journey was more important than the goal (praise and comments) for me. The journey IS the goal. Sometimes I get a lot of kudos, sometimes just a handful. But the most important thing for me is that I have done it. I have written. I have walked a journey, however hard, and that is damn magical.
That is also why I would never disgrace my own journey of writing. You will not see "crying in writer"-posts from me. Talking ill about the journey is like shooting oneself in the foot, like putting a noose over one's own head!
Ranting online might the chararctic for some, but ultimately it is damaging the culture of (fan) writing and is killing the magic. That is how I see it. Pride feeds magic. And oh, how I wish everyone can feel that magic. (As you might sense, I have acted as "therapist" for other fan writers and I have developed compassion fatigue when it comes to this part of community).
Is confidence part of the inheret personality of a person, or is it the result of the circumstances? I don't know. But I know that I will do anything to my future children to make their confidence just as strong as mine. If they become a creative person I will read, praise, watch, and listen.
This self-reflection might not make sense and it is fine. What I want is other writers to find joy in the process and not kill the magic around them. Find the magic in plot, sentences, metaphors and Chekhov's Gun. Find the magic in scenes and character development. Find the magic in the process and in your words.
A final word. I am not arrogant. I know my own faults and places were I can improve, am well-aware. But I will fake until I make it and I will not show my weaknesses. I don't kill magic.
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