#this got long so I'm publishing to keep a record
Text
Burning Out • III
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader
I was lost, but now I'm found
Under the lights and in the sounds
So let us sing and sing it loud
That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.
Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.
Words: 6.3k
Warnings: Smut 18+ (female!fingering), explicit language, mentions of drinking, mentions of taking pills, mentions of death
Authors note: Chapter Three - A Dreamlike Heathen: this chapter isn’t as long as I hoped but I do hope you enjoy <3 I’m sorry it took so long for me to upload!!! Songs are Dreamlike by Dead By April and Heathens by Aurora! Also I’m sorry for any mistakes I wanted to publish this and it’s not proofread and it’s currently 1am here and I’m so sleepy lol
THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY IN REAL LIFE! IT IS FICTION! IT IS JUST FOR FUN! <3
Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerants @veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @melinacchss-blog @cncohshit @thescarlettvvitch @scrumptiousfestivalpost
“Fuck Noah,” She whispered, panting as she threw her head back into the mirror, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.
“Oh my god don’t stop.” She moaned, and I obliged, giving her everything I could.
“Come Y/N,” I said between sucking, and squeezing her hips, “be a good girl for me.”
Her legs began to vibrate, her mouth open, sound unable to escape as she shook through her orgasm. I didn’t stop until she physically pushed me away, shallow breaths leaving her lips.
I grabbed her chin, pulling her lips to mine, begging her to taste herself from my tongue.
“Life had broken her; just as it had broken him. But when they got together, their pieces became whole. And they started on their journey, together, mended as one.” - Steve Maraboli
+++++
Noah
Twenty fucking thousand dollars. Twenty.
My mind kept racing over two things. The fact I had to somehow come up with all this money myself; and the fact I slept with Y/N last night. I sat on the cot in our motel room the next morning, head in my hands as my leg bounced nervously.
“I-I should go,” Y/N hopped off the counter, wiping my release off of her stomach before readjusting her shorts.
“wait-” I grabbed her wrist, pulling her back toward my drunken state, “can I see you again?”
She gave me a wry smile, “I’d like that.” She tugged from my grasp but I held her tighter, pulling her into my arms.
My body remained swaying, the euphoria and alcohol mixed, “do you regret what just happened?”
I wasn’t sure if this question was for me, or her.
“No,” She said, her fingertips running up the skin of my neck. She fit against my body perfectly, as if she was always meant to be there.
I had left the bar with the boys minutes after fucking Y/N’s brains out, stealing lingering glances at her figure behind the counter before parting. Even though I was drunk, I couldn’t believe it happened… but I needed a release, a bit of euphoria to ride out through dealing with the crushing news D gave us.
Twenty thousand.
I looked at the anklet D put on me, the green dot blinking periodically. I couldn’t believe the fucking bastard was tracking our every move. He’d followed us for years, but this was next level.
I also had no idea how to get that much money by myself. The boys and I alternated job’s each night for our sanity, but the fact I had to keep a journal and record each place I got the money from, and then submit it to one of D’s bitches so he could ensure only I was doing the work, was ridiculous.
Twenty thousand this month would mean I’d need to get approximately 645 dollars a day since there were 31 days this month. Which realistically didn’t seem too bad once broken down; but some days I could bring in thousands, others, absolutely nothing at all. At least my final day of owing will be a fantastic birthday present to me.
I groaned, flopping back into the mattress on the floor, my thoughts overwhelming. Everything has led up to this moment, and I was still completely fucked.
Jolly sat on his bed, strumming away on his old acoustic guitar that was barely holding onto the strings. With his hands dancing along the neck, I closed my eyes to the rhythm he created, fingers tapping along the beat.
I began humming, words spiralling out of my mouth subconsciously, “I’ve seen the devil, more than I’ve seen god.”
Jolly gave me a slight snicker, continuing to strum, “I like that.”
“I see through you, I know what you are.”
I repeated the two phrases over and over, singing lowly as I continued to drum my fingers. Hmm. I checked the time on my phone briefly, realizing it was 4:30 pm.
I sat up, grabbed my bag and swung it over my shoulder.
“Where are you going?” Jolly asked.
“To see Y/N.”
“Why?” Jolly stopped playing, placing the guitar across the bedsheets.
It's been twenty long years
I've cried, but not enough tears
I've become the sum of all my fears
(I feel scared, so scared)
I stared at him blankly, the cogs within my mind turning to find an answer themselves. Why was I going to see her? Why did I care that I made it for when she got off work at the cafe? Something about her was magnetizing, and I couldn’t help but crave more. I wanted to explore her mind and body; to know her in every way possible.
I don’t have time to think of someone like her; I don’t deserve to think of someone like her.
I have a job to do.
But I don’t care.
“I don’t know,” I turned to look at him with my hand on the doorknob.
Jolly’s eyes watched back quizzically, “I think you should leave her out of this. Break it off now.”
I furrowed my brows, “There’s nothing to break off.”
Jolly gave me a curt laugh, “Yea, which is why you fucked in the bathroom yesterday. Nothing to break off.”
My face warmed, unsure of how he knew. I didn’t think it was obvious.
“She seems like a nice girl. You wouldn’t want to get her killed,” Jolly warned. He wasn’t wrong. This line of business wasn’t exactly safe, and I knew I shouldn’t get Y/N involved.
“She already knows too much,” I said, avoiding his eyes as I stared at the floor.
“Det är inte riktigt rätt möblerat på övervåningen hos dig.” Jolly groaned, rubbing his eyes with his palm. Your top floor is not properly furnished (Mind is a mess).
I rolled my eyes, “Oh don’t bring out the Swedish insults you asshat.”
“Well, I suggest you break her heart now before it’s too late.”
I bit my lip as I opened the door, ignoring his burning words.
“Din jävla fubbick,” I heard the swede mutter before I shut the door. You damn moron.
Guilt washed over my body as I took long strides through the motel parking lot, my mind spiralling and my palms sweating. What am I doing?
Jolly was right; Y/N shouldn’t be mixed up in this; but part of me yearned for her. I haven’t had someone willing to listen to my thoughts for years. I’ve never had anyone else to relate to other than my brothers.
I wanted to share everything about me and learn everything about her, and she felt safe to do so. She was also wildly gorgeous; her e/c eyes glimmered with so much hope, something I aspired to have one day. Maybe I could even share with her. Hope.
You gave me a strength unparalleled
But nothing compared to how much I've bled
(I feel scared, so scared)
+++++
Y/N
He hasn’t shown up for his coffee again today. Did he regret what happened last night?
I swept between the tables and recalled the previous events. I don’t even know what came over me yesterday, but I do know that I didn’t have any regrets.
I knew my face began to warm as I recalled the way Noah’s fingers dug into my hips, gripping onto me as he pounded into me mercilessly; drowning his sorrows through the pleasure of our bodies.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he stared into me, aching with fervour and hunger, begging me to give everything to him.
I wanna know what it feels like
Is it nothing but dreamlike?
I wanna touch you now
It was anything but romantic- having a quick fuck in the bathroom of a bar, but I longed for Noah even more after that.
I feel like I’m going crazy. How could he have such a hold over me, especially after finding out he is a criminal? I should be running; so why can’t I let him go?
Lust? Infatuation? Whatever it is, I crave him.
I pushed away my thoughts, finishing the rest of my closing tasks and clocking out. I waved to Annika as I pulled my hoodie over my head, grabbing my bag and de-tangling my earbuds.
As I walked out the door a hand immediately grabbed my own, pulling me towards them. A light squeal of surprise left my lips as he pulled me into his body, giving me a side hug.
“Noah?” I looked up to see a small smile dancing across the man’s lips as he towered over me. My eyes travelled across his neck tattoo, marvelling at its glory before trailing across his face in awe, my heart hammering once again.
His dancing eyes smiled as he wrapped his other arm around me, embracing me fully. I couldn’t help but grin as my face smushed into his chest, inhaling his scent; instantly comforted.
How can it feel so right?
It is nothing but dreamlike
I'm gonna touch you now
“You came,” I said, surprising myself. The way Noah’s cage felt immensely protective and serene as he embedded me into his chest, left my pulse pounding with elation.
“I wanted to be here for when you got off work,” He said, squeezing me gently before letting go. “Do you want to do something before your next shift?”
I gave him a cheeky grin, “Something?”
Noah licked his lips before matching my smile, putting his finger through the belt loop of my jeans, and tugging me along beside him as we walked down the sidewalk. I flushed at the gesture as he held me next to him as if claiming me for his own.
“I meant like, dinner,” He hummed, “but I also can’t stop thinking about last night.”
“Come Y/N,” he had said between sucking and squeezing my hips, “be a good girl for me.”
A shudder ran down my spine as my mind wandered, and I peered up at Noah, his cheeks flushing through his confession.
“Me too,” I said softly, “Did you want to come back to my place? We could order takeout… because I need to get my clothes for my next shift.”
“I’d like that,” Noah peered down at me warmly.
We walked together in silence, the only sound the bustle of life that surrounded the sidewalk as we passed various shops, heading towards my neighbourhood. For “level two acquaintances” the silence between the two of us was soothing, something that I think shocked us both.
Noah let go of my belt loop, shoving his hands inside of his pockets. I looked over at him, his expression filled with thought and worry, something eating him alive.
“Did you want to talk about it?” I asked gently, looking ahead as the light breeze slid past my cheeks.
Noah was quiet, eyes darting back and forth, “I trust you so much, and I don’t know why.”
I nodded, agreeing with his concern silently, letting him continue.
“and I don’t know who else to talk to about this with…my brothers are too involved and have enough opinions as it is,” Noah said, following me down the path that led us towards my house.
“Remember how I told you we owe a lot of money to this… guy? Well, this month is supposed to be our last month, and then we are finally free.”
I smiled widely, grabbing Noah’s arm in excitement, shaking him gently, “That’s great news! You’ll be done with it forever!”
Noah chuckled darkly, rolling his head to the side in annoyance, “Yeah, well, there’s a catch.”
My grip on his arm fell, a sullen expression taking over my joy.
“I have to get him twenty thousand, myself. The boys can’t help me.”
“Twenty thousand?” I exclaimed, stopping in my tracks to look at him, “That’s a shit ton of money.”
Noah’s hand ran across his face in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know. I am beyond fucked.”
I blinked a few times in disbelief as we approached the steps to my house, the greeting of Juice’s trill on the other side of the door inviting us in. Noah was immediately bombarded with cat love and he gave the furry animal a small smile, bending down to scratch the top of his head before running his fingers down Juice’s back.
Closing the door I kicked off my sneakers, hanging my bag on the coat rack. Noah followed, placing his black vans politely by the front door; which was when I noticed a small anklet blinking beneath the hem of his pants.
I stared at it quizzically, and Noah caught my gaze. He lifted his leg, mouth forming a tight line.
“Like my new accessory?” Anger seethed from his tongue as he gave me a sarcastic smile, before standing in front of me, completely defeated.
I led us upstairs into my bedroom, “What is it?”
“A tracker.”
I stopped at the top, turning around to look at him, “What do you mean a tracker?” I watched his ankle with cautious eyes, flickering between Noah and the device.
He sighed heavily as I turned back around, opening my bedroom door. Noah immediately flopped onto my bed, inviting himself to lay on his back as he spread his limbs out, “The guy’s name is D, the one we owe. He said that to make sure I wasn’t getting the boys’ help with the money, we all need to wear these fucking trackers. I also need to keep a log of where the money comes from so it matches up with my location, and deposit it each week.”
“And this all happened last night?”
He nodded, and I watched as Noah’s eyes squeezed shut in frustration, tears pricking them. I stood next to the bed, watching for a moment as his chest heaved, crumbling before me. I then crawled next to him, sitting up as he rolled over. He placed his head onto my lap, holding himself against my thighs as silent tears cascaded down his cheeks.
“I…I’m barely holding on,” He whispered.
My fingers began running through Noah’s scalp, lacing themselves through his chestnut strands in an attempt to soothe him, showing my support. I hear you.
My heart yearned for him once again, filled with sorrow and pain as he suffered in torment, dealing with the burden of his demons. Noah didn’t deserve this. He was young when he fucked up, and he hasn’t been able to escape. I saw myself within his pain, my past mirroring back at me.
“I just keep hoping that one day I’ll have something else motivating me- something more than fear, more than spite. I wanna feel like I’m living.”
I listened to Noah’s words as they resonated with me. I too, wanted to feel like I was living.
I had never been part of the right crowd, and I was always getting into trouble, due to the influence of my previous relationships. I followed their shenanigans because I had nobody else to model- and I made some poor choices. I chose to follow them.
However, I also chose to leave- to start fresh and to forget about my past. People can change, and people can grow, and Noah deserved the same opportunity. He was being puppeteered by an evil man; and I wanted to help him escape, as much as he wanted his freedom.
I chewed my cheek in contemplation, fingers still stroking his hair, “let me help you, Noah.”
“Help with what?”
“The money. You don’t deserve to do it alone.”
Noah sat up now, watching me intensely from across the bed, “You’ve built yourself a new life Y/N. Don’t fuck it up now.”
He was right. Why was I willing to risk it all?
“I’ve been willing to fuck it up the second I saw you at the cafe,” I traced his face, analyzing his expression before my mind wandered to an idea; one so insane I couldn't even believe I was about to suggest this.
“I’m going to sound crazy, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” I hesitated for a moment, sucking in a breath between my teeth, “but why don't you come live with me? You and your brothers?”
Noah’s eyes widened, lips parting slightly in perplexity. He blinked a few times, and I continued my thought.
“You won’t need to pay rent or anything, so you guys can save money to pay this D guy faster. The motel money probably adds up.”
Noah slid off the bed, standing up abruptly, folding his arms over his body in defence, “You cannot be serious,” he laughed with incredulity.
“Listen, Noah,” I scooted to sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at him, “I was stuck for a long time, and I didn’t have a helping hand… but I have enough to offer you. I know what it’s like to struggle.”
Noah’s fingers ran through his hair as he began pacing, shaking his head, “I don’t need your pity Y/N.”
“This isn’t pity, I swear,” I stood up, approaching Noah gently, holding both of his biceps to keep him in place from his anxious wading, “I wished someone had helped me when I needed it.”
He stared down at me in complete disbelief, his eyes scanning mine for any signs of doubt; but I remained confident in my suggestion, staring at him assuringly.
“so let me help you,” I whispered, reaching up to place a gentle hand on his cheek. With a racing heart, I rubbed my thumb across his skin, bewildered at my words.
He closed his eyes in conflict and placed a hand on top of my own, clammy and nervous.
“Why are you helping a monster?” Noah breathed, leaning into my touch, curious eyes observing me.
“Everyone deserves help. You deserve it.”
What are we allowed to do?
What are we allowed to be?
“You’re not a monster Noah,” placing a hand on his other cheek, I stood on my tiptoes, pulling him down towards me, kissing the tip of his nose delicately.
I wanna cross the line with you
Let's pass the point of no return
Noah watched me with pure awe, matching me by grabbing either side of my face, and placing his forehead on my own, “You are fucking crazy.”
Is this wrong? I don't wanna know
A big mistake? I don't wanna know
I chuckled softly, “I completely agree with you, I think I am insane for offering this.”
I wanna know what it feels like
Is it nothing but dreamlike?
I wanna touch you now
Noah laughed quietly with me, still in complete doubt. His eyes kept trailing between my own and my lips, as if trying not to kiss me, before giving in.
How can it feel so right?
It is nothing but dreamlike
I'm gonna touch you now
Noah’s lips kissed me tenderly as he held my face, and I melted into his touch. With each greeting of our lips, the kiss became harder and deeper, the emotion transferring from him to me; radiating between us.
We remained standing, holding each other intimately for a few more moments before Noah pulled away. He rested his forehead against mine once again, brushing his thumb across my lips as his eyes peered into mine longingly.
“I’m sorry, not sorry for breaking into your house; because otherwise, we wouldn’t be here,” Noah said.
“I forgive you, clearly,” I laughed, “but you could always try to make it up to me again if you feel like it?”
Noah let out a puff of air, hands running down my neck along my curves, resting at the top of my hips, “I like that idea.”
I grinned at him, my hands resting at the back of his tattooed neck, the apple and snake teasing me.
Noah leaned towards my ear, warm breath tickling my skin, “I’m craving the way you taste- and I’ve only tasted you once.”
I hummed as he kissed me hungrily again, letting out a sigh of relief. Our heads tilted slowly as they switched from left to right, sharing open-mouth kisses, and devouring each other.
Noah rubbed his hips into my own, a soft moan trailing from my throat. As much as I wanted to continue, I knew I had to go to work soon.
I pushed his chest gently, “It’s already 6… I need to leave for work in half an hour.”
Noah gave me a sly smile, “You underestimating my skills?”
I chuckled, “Not at all.”
“I bet I could make you come in two minutes,” His fingers trailed up the sides of my torso, fingers tracing circles across the skin.
I hummed, “what do I get if you can’t?”
Noah leaned towards my ear, fingers squeezing right below my chest, “then I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, and you’ll come again.”
My body shivered from his words, and my stomach began to swirl with excitement as Noah’s hands worshiped my body, whispering lustful promises as he peppered kisses down my neck. Noah peeked over at the clock on my nightstand briefly.
“6:04.”
My eyes fluttered shut as the pace of my breathing picked up, Noah leading us towards the wall. My back hit the surface as he pushed his body against mine, heat radiating off of him.
Noah’s hand gripped my wrists as he lifted them above my head, holding me captive as his other trailed down my waistline toward my desire.
I succumbed to Noah’s touch as his touch slid through me, circling and prodding. Whatever he was doing left me completely giving in to his caress; the fact both of us were still completely clothed made this moment that much more invigorating.
Noah’s teeth hooked on my bottom lip as he ravaged my mouth. I moaned earnestly as his fingers sank through my slick, curling towards my need. His palm pushed against me, rubbing and maintaining a repetitive pattern, and my legs began to give out. How he could make me surrender with his hand alone had me flustered.
(I'm in a)
(I'm in a)
(I'm in a)
I'm in a, I'm in a dreamlike state
I rutted my hips towards his touch and Noah smiled into my lips, “so needy,” he mumbled.
I sighed eagerly as he continued his method, my body trembling in response, close to my release.
“C’mon princess, you can do it,” Noah muttered, trailing his lips down my neck towards my collarbone, before snagging his teeth on a sensitive spot. He sucked and nibbled at my skin, branding me.
I didn’t even care, exhilaration taking over.
Noah slipped his fingers out, sliding them up until he reached the top, pressing the pad of his fingers and circling them quickly. I shuddered, my body crumbling as I cried out his name.
Can it feel so right?
It is nothing but dreamlike
I'm gonna touch you now
Noah smiled into me again as his head lay pressed against my neck, satisfied and prideful of his actions.
My chest heaved as I came down from the high, folding off of the wall into his arms. I clutched onto his sweater for support, turning my head to the clock. 6:08
“That was four minutes,” I panted.
“Looks like I owe you,” Noah’s smug smile said it all.
I chuckled, looking up at him, eyes dilated with satisfaction “Oh, what a shame.”
Noah grinned, the whites of his teeth making my heart flutter. He sat on my bed, adjusting himself in his pants before watching me pace around my room, picking out my work clothes.
I opted for leggings and a tight square-cut long sleeve. I took the clothes out of my closet, holding them to my chest before turning around.
“Uh…” I looked at the brunette, his hair cascading down his face perfectly, “Do you uhm, can you turn around?”
Noah choked out a laugh, “huh? you do realize that I’ve seen you like, partially naked? And literally just touched you?”
My face flushed, “Yeah… but still.”
Noah chuckled, obliging as he turned around on the bed to face the wall. I began stripping, pulling my leggings up before changing my shirt. I peered at Noah, noticing his head whip back around.
“Hey!” I laughed, “No peaking!”
Noah turned around once I was dressed, sticking his tongue out playfully, “Whatever do you mean?”
I rolled my eyes as Noah stood up, scratching the back of his neck, “I’d say we’ve at least levelled up to buddies.”
Yea, fuck buddies.
I hummed, “I agree, definitely more than level-two acquaintances.”
Noah nodded at me with a lighthearted glare, “Friends would be going too far right now though.”
“Definitely,” I mimicked his expression before leading us down the stairs. I peered in the mirror that was hung on the wall next to the door, eyes glancing at the hickey forming on the side of my neck. Fuck. Nothing I can do about that now.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to eat,” I said, “but if you want, you could come to the bar?”
“I’d like that,” Noah bent down to slip on his vans as I put on my black Converse.
I chewed my lip, “Did you want to invite your friends? Maybe talk about the offer?”
Noah stood up, frowning, “Y/N- I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Well, at least ask them, see what they say,” I looked at him with a serious expression, “I wasn’t kidding with the offer. I have the basement finished but unfurnished; and a spare bedroom upstairs. You guys would have your own space.”
Noah stared at the floor, kicking up the side of the carpet nervously, “I mean I’ll talk to them.”
I couldn’t help but smile widely, “Please do. Now lets go or I’ll be late.”
+++++
NOAH
Ruffilo, Jolly, Folio and I sat in a booth at Sammy’s, the three of them watching me curiously as I explained the situation.
“She offered us a place to stay for free,” I peeked over at Y/N, stealing a glance as she catered to a few customers. Her H/C hair fell so delicately around her eyes, and my heart fluttered at how genuine and beautiful her smile was as she poured the drink for the woman in front of her. She lit up the room around her, her energy charismatic and incandescent.
“No fucking way we are doing that,” Jolly said, glancing at Y/N briefly before folding his arms, sinking into the leather of the booth.
“I mean,” Nick began, looking between us, “This would help us out a lot Jolly.”
“-and Noah,” Nicholas said, “Like we pay roughly 130 bucks a night. That’s $3,900 we’d save him right there.”
All of us peered over at Y/N, and she lifted her head, giving us all a smile.
“Why would she do that for you? For us? What’s in it for her?” Jolly said, skeptical.
I had no fucking idea why she would, but I was desperate for any amount of help I could get.
I shrugged, “I don’t know.”
She was selfless, enigmatic, and completely sublime.
“How long have you known her?” Nick raised a brow, plucking a fry from the plate in the middle of us.
I winced, “Er, two days?”
Folio’s eyes bulged out of his head as he leaned forward, chest pressed into the table, “Ain’t no fucking way this is real. She has to be getting something out of it.”
Jolly snorted, “yea, his dick.”
I scoffed, rolling my head back dramatically, “Oh fuck off !”
“That giant ass hickey proves it-”
“Oh, can it Jolly, have any of you ever thought that maybe Y/N is just a nice person?” Nicholas defended.
I grabbed a fry, dipping it in some ketchup before taking a bite, “people like us don’t deserve nice people.”
Ruffilo looked at me disappointedly, “Don’t say that. We’ve done some fucked up shit, but how else have we been able to get by?”
“Plus, we can’t help with the money. D doesn’t know Y/N exists, so he wouldn’t suspect the help.” Nick said, and Nicholas nodded in agreement.
I watched the three of them as they gave me a sullen smile, “I’m worried D will be suspicious that our locations will move though; and that it will put her in danger.”
“She must know there’s a risk, considering you filled her in on everything,” Nick took a sip of his beer.
“Why she’s willing to risk everything she’s worked towards beats me,” I said, sighing heavily.
“Worked towards?” Nicholas asked.
The boys waited for me to answer.
She bargains with the world
So everything she wants will come to her
With no greed inside her mind
She knows what she deserves
“She’s been through some fucked up shit I guess, but she saved a bunch of money and moved here to start over her life. She works two jobs almost every day to afford everything,” I looked back at Y/N for a prolonged period, my heart beating quickly, “She just kept telling me she knows what it’s like, and she wished people helped her.”
“So pity?” Jolly gave me a sarcastic smile, nodding rapidly.
“No,” I defended, “she’s just a generous person.”
We remained silent, chewing our food quietly before Jolly spoke.
“Well, I suppose it’s worth a shot,” He said, eying the fries before staring at me, “for Noah.”
“Yeah, but also you guys. She offered it to all of us,” I said.
Nicholas looked over at her warmly, “That’s kind of her. Really kind.”
We fell from sky with grace
And landed in her soft and warm embrace
She gave her love, her gift of life
So we could live with her
I stood up, walking towards the bar, sitting on a stool in front of her. She nodded to another customer before smiling at me, waltzing over.
“So?” She bit her lip, almost looking hopeful.
I picked at the resin counter, my nail grinding within a divot in the material as I distracted myself from her, “How early can we move in?”
“Tonight if you want.”
Y/N and I shared a look before I nodded, giving a gentle laugh, “Okay. Want to meet your new roommates? Considering you haven’t even met the guys you offered your entire life to.”
Y/N laughed, “yea. I’m realizing how crazy I sound the more realistic this becomes.”
I motioned for the boys to come over and they did, each with a beer in their hand, sitting on either side of me along the counter.
Y/N gave them a sunny grin, introducing herself.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Nicholas said politely.
“You as well,” she nodded, before looking at Folio.
“I’m Nick, Nick folio,” He held out his hand, wrapping around her own and shaking.
She then moved to Jolly, who gave her a curt smile. Although he was stand-off-ish, she greeted him warmly.
“Joakim, but call me Jolly,”
“So, tonight?” I eyed everyone, who all turned to look at Y/N.
She shrugged, “I’m off at midnight. I can help take stuff over.”
“Well, we don’t exactly have a lot. We can probably take everything in two trips,” Nick said.
“I can help, I’ll meet you guys at the motel.”
+++++
We packed everything into our backpacks and suitcases, and my chest tightened at the realization we would be leaving our ‘home’ of the last few years.
“This is crazy,” Nick shook his head as he played Tetris with our belongings, organizing them within our van.
“You gotta admit,” Nicholas began as he carried out the old guitars with Jolly, “It will be nice to be in an actual house for a while.”
“Good point,” Jolly mumbled, “But I’m still suspicious.”
That is why we live like heathens
Stealing from the trees of Eden
Y/N made it over around 12:30, and we packed her car full as well; not that there was much room considering how small it is.
All of us stood outside the motel, part of us grieving for departing what we’ve always known; the other relishing in gratitude for this new opportunity.
Y/N placed a hand on my shoulder as I stared at the motel door plaintively.
Living in the arms of freedom
And everything we touch is evil
That is why we live like heathens
I gave her a sorrowful smile before nodding at my brothers, “Y/N will lead the way.”
I sat in the passenger seat of Y/N’s car, staring out the window as we drove past the buildings towards her neighbourhood; our new home.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. This woman was a complete gift, the strings of fate leaving me confounded yet wonderstruck.
Once we arrived and went inside, Juice greeted the boys, and each of them immediately fell in love with the orange fur ball. Y/N toured everyone around before leading us down to the basement. As Y/N mentioned it was unfurnished, but had a full bathroom. The only items around were a rack of guitars in pristine condition and a few cardboard boxes.
“Holy shit- is that a Martin D-41?” Jolly immediately smiled, walking over to assess the guitars, “and an Ernie Ball Music Man John Petrucci Majesty?”
“Damn, and a Gibson Thunderbird IV Bass?” Ruffilo joined in on the geek-sesh, both of them giddy.
Y/N laughed, “Wow, you must know your stuff. Those were my dads, he was really into music.”
She walked over, grazing her fingers across the strings, “I’ve kept them in his memory, but I have no idea how to play.”
I watched her as she picked up the Martin, handing it to Jolly, “feel free to use them whenever you want; they deserve some love, they were made to be played.”
Jolly’s lips fell open before he smiled warmly, gazing at the guitar, “You’re so fucking cool.”
We all chuckled and I watched Y/N in awe as she interacted with my brothers, taking them in and treating them as if she’d known us all for years.
The stone, the dirt, the dust
The unforgiving promise made to us
Unworthy of your light, your god, your touch
We're guided by the lust
“I only have one blow-up mattress I take camping, but there is a bed in the spare room, and the couch in the living room…” She looked between the four of us until her eyes landed on me.
“Uh,” Her cheeks flushed as she spoke, “we can always share my bed tonight until I can pick up a couple of mattresses…”
We cry the fallen names
We cry for those who burned beneath the flame
We stand besides the good and brave
The broken and enslaved
My face warmed along with her and I coughed, straightening up, “Yeah, no worries.”
The boys watched us, a low chuckle leaving Folio. Y/N grabbed spare blankets, pillows and the blow-up mattress from the closet. She set up the bed, which Jolly dibsed. Nick took the couch, and Nicholas took the spare room down the hall from Y/N’s.
Y/N and I went into her room and she shut the door quietly, turning around, sighing.
“Well,” she blew out a puff of air, giving me a kind smile, “this is interesting.”
I nodded, following her with my eyes as she began getting ready for bed, brushing her H/C hair, and wiping off her makeup for the day. I admired her beauty, staring at her with reverence. She was brilliant.
“I-I can sleep on the floor Y/N. I don’t mind,” I whispered as she slid an oversized t-shirt over her frame, stripping off her work attire.
I licked my lips, swallowing harshly before averting my eyes, reminding myself that now was not the time to get worked up. She had to be at the cafe in a few hours.
Juice purred as he curled into a bed next to her windowsill, eying us from the corner.
Y/N turned off her main light, flicking on a dim lamp that cascaded a soft orange aura across the room before she crawled into bed, opening the covers and patting next to her.
“You can sleep with me, it’s okay.”
I shifted on my feet nervously, tossing my hoodie over my head and placing it neatly over the chair of her vanity, along with my jeans.
Hours ago I was pinning her against the wall, devouring her body in complete confidence. Why was I suddenly so shy? Why did this feel so much more intimate than sex?
Her love is yours
But only if you give your heart to her
I walked over to her, sliding myself between her covers as I lay as close to the edge as possible.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” She mumbled, jumping out of bed and leaving to the bathroom, returning shortly with a bottle of pills and a cup of water.
She opened the bottle, turned around and placed one on her tongue before taking a swig of water. I watched as she placed her pills on her desk, before hopping back into bed.
That is why we live like heathens
Stealing from the trees of Eden
Living in the arms of freedom
And everything we touch is evil
She crawled underneath the covers, snuggling into the duvet as she lay on her side, facing me.
We remained silent for a few moments before she asked me a question in a small voice, “Is it ok if the light stays on?”
I preferred the lights off, but I wasn’t going to share my preference; I was already invading her space.
“I have trouble sleeping,” She whispered vulnerably.
“Of course,” I said, pulling the covers over my shoulders.
“Okay,” her eyes fluttered open and closed, fighting against sleep, “goodnight Noah.”
I watched as her lashes touched the tops of her cheeks, her eyebrows releasing tension from the day, lips parted gently as sleep took over.
My eyes danced across her features, completely captivated. Y/N breathed slowly, and my hand subconsciously reached over, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear as I endeared over her.
“you’re my saving grace,” I whispered as I stroked her hair, still completely baffled this was all happening.
I watched her for a moment longer before I turned over, facing the door and her desk. My eyes trailed over to the bottle that rested on her desk, the yellow plastic alluring. Zolpidem. 700 dollars right there.
Destruction. Crime. Greed.
That is why we live like heathens
That is why we live like heathens
That is why we live like heathens
Chapter four
#burning out fanfic#smut#bad omens#bad omens cult#joakim jolly karlsson#joakim karlsson#metal#noah sebastian x reader#Nick folio#nicholas ruffilo#nick ruffilo#Noah Sebastian#Noah Sebastian smut#bad omens smut#noah sebastian davis#noah sebastian fic
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Hi. Does he think he's a Hollywood star? Doesn't he see what's going on around him? He continues to walk around as if it were nothing, his career is at an end and he doesn't see it. Starz already is replacing him with his father (the actor who will play Jamie's father). The mothers are already sighing for him. Starz no longer cares because they know people will want to see the end of OL. It will soon be SH who? Does he think he will be beautiful and attractive all his life? I'm sorry he wasted the opportunity he had in his hands. I think his future will be sad, when he sees that he has nothing. And with that, friends will disappear and so will the girls. He will be alone, how will he deal with it?
I had to think about your message today and to be honest your messages contains some things I have been thinking about for a longer while.
I was a bit hesitant to publish your message and question, as i'm sure some will just see it as negativity or criticism they don't like to see and say how good, lovely, hot whatever he is.
I'm aware there are some in the comments that are always quite negative and just like to be negative about everything and will say he's mediocre, has a self inflated ego and all these sort of statements that make them more sound like a broken record without adding any real substance.
These two opposites constantly collide and their way of 'discussing' only widen the gap between these 2 'opinions'. I've put opinions and discussing between quotes here, as I don't feel they're real opinions anymore and their discussions don't lead anywhere else than trying to upset the other.
Anyway, I don't see your message as such Anon. I think you make some good points, that to me are worth to discuss in a good way and we, or the people in the comments might differ here and there in their opinions or views on things. But that is just what helps broaden the view on what we see.
You ask, 'doesn't he see what's going on around him?'. I actually think or perhaps hope he does see it and it is a subject he might worry about, talk about with people, how to turn things around, or maybe better said, how to move forward from here. I think he knows it in his heart, but he doesn't show it. And I can understand he doesn't show it, I wouldn't either if I were him and keep that inside. And silently would look for opportunities and work on creating these opportunities to get to a next step.
Is his career already at an end though? As you state it Anon, and I can understand why you come to that conclusion. Because of what we've seen. An actor that started to get momentum when he landed his role in Outlander, good looks and a series that had great appeal. It opened doors and he got some good chances, use that momentum to build that wanted career into something bigger. But it didn't came to that. Was it his acting, was it the sort movies he chose, or the roles he played? Or was it a combination of it all? Something that can be discussed endlessly and everyone will have their own views on it, but the conclusion is it didn't land him as an A lister or big HW star.
And yes, I see what you mean, and agree Starz knows they need their new hunk, another heartthrob for their stable. Something Sam has been for a long time now but they know it wont last much longer that way. He can't rely on his looks all his life and I'm sure he knows that himself as well.
The 'friends' he surrounded himself with, we've had that discussion here many times. And it's a given fact, when you're successful you have thousands of 'friends' but the real friends are those that are still around when the success starts to fade. Personally I think he let himself get too much into the trap of 'how can we monetize this' and the 'friends' that 'helped' him with that. Made him believe in his own hype and how he could (or should?) use that to turn it into some sort of empire. Just a look at his IG shows it all the way to you. And no, I don't say his IG is who he really is, but it is the image he puts out there and it's far from the image he had when he started out as an actor.
And at itself there's nothing wrong with it, anyone would make hay while the sun shines. You'd be dumb if you didn't. The question is more, to what price? And here I think it might have gotten a bit out of hand and too far. How dedicated is he still about his craft, how passionate? I miss that passion for his craft to be honest. Earlier interviews showed his passion, the way he talked about a character he played or the ideas he had. Today it is more like he studied his lines and sounds like a broken record in interviews. Just sometimes I see a little glimpse of the passion.
I do however think, he's still trying. These photoshoots last week, the fact that we saw JA present, it made me think. I can almost hear the conversation, how he wants pics of him out there that are not the Jamie/OL related ones but show a different face, a different side? Try to get projects interested in him. But I just don't think a photoshoot is enough. I said it a little while ago, he's distanced himself from the industry, from his craft. We've seen nothing since TCND wrapped that was acting related in any way. We've not seen him interacting with people in the industry or at events connecting with them.
He has nothing up his sleeves acting wise. I know, you come at me and say how would I know that. I don't, I admit, I'm not his agent. But really the signs we see are that there is nothing. And yes, he has OL for the next 8 months or so, and he said things like he might have a break afterwards... but is that really true? Or is he afraid there will be nothing?
Long answer, I know Anon. And I hope we can have some good and healthy discussions in the comments. Not the ones that sound like broken records without any substance, but thoughts that we can all contemplate about. And at the end of the day consider that we can think and discuss a lot, but only the future will tell.
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I'm having trouble choosing between Dick and Tim for the ask game, so instead, I choose Janet!
janetttt <3
Headcanon A: realistic
janet spoke to divorce lawyers three times in her marriage. once was a few months after the circus when her and jack's marriage first started to break down because jack checked out emotionally from the marriage after witnessing the death of the graysons. the second was when tim was 9, they got in a bad fight over jack's tendency to make deals and promises for the company at the gentleman's club without consulting her. the last was the last time they were home before their final trip. they'd long since moved into separate rooms. if they weren't fighting, they weren't talking. what kind of marriage was that? but she hesitated when it came time to actually file. the finality of it scared her, a bit. janet loved her family, after all. should she really upheave her entire life, or could they work it out one last time? if she gets divorced, she has to start everything all over again. she decided trying to save things was worth one last shot.
Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious
janet was big into babywearing when tim was an infant! it's how she could be the woman who could do it all--work & mothering. she had a ring sling with fabric made of vicuña and cashmere. it worked for a few months up until tim learned how to crawl & then there was no keeping him in any sort of carrier without very loud protest & all her meticulous plans to supervise her digs with tim on her back came crashing down to the ground where the fabric of her fancy ring sling also lay, trampled on by her toddler's feet.
Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends
bruce never told tim, but it was very easy to transfer him from boarding school to public school during the time he fostered tim while jack was in a coma. when bruce called the boarding school to get tim's school records transferred over to gotham heights high and cancel the enrollment in boarding school for next semester, the office informed him that there was no need to--his mother had already done exaxtly that about a month before her death.
Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.
janet had started writing a book before she died about the history of gotham city. she was about 80% done with her manuscript. tim found it among his dad's belongings. tim gets the great idea he's going to finish it. it doesn't go well & he fails miserably. helena finds it, along with all of tim's scribbled notes, one day while she's at the nest to talk to him about a case, and can clearly tell he's struggling with it. she remembers that a coworker of hers has been trying to get published with a book of his own, but hasn't been able to get his foot in the door with any publishing companies. she surreptitiously leaves tim his name & contact info by the manuscript.
a few days later, the wayne foundation reaches out to her coworker--they're looking for someone to finish and clean up janet drake's book for publishing. they're offering a chance to get his foot in the door & some pretty sweet publishing connections if he takes them up on their offer. he gladly does, and janet drake's posthumous book tops the nonfiction bestseller list for weeks & helena's coworker scores a 3 book deal of his own. helena's just glad to see her coworker finally get the chance he deserves & to see tim happy. tim builds her a very sweet huntress car for her help. it's perfect. except for the fact that he gave it the license plate "P0P3MBL"
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Merry new year to everyone, again! 🥳💞🥂
I know it wasn’t an event this year, but writing a yearly wrap-up is really therapeutic, you know? So I decided to continue the tradition, and if anyone wants to join me, absolutely view this as an open invitation^^ Introduction is over, and now let’s see what 2023 looked like:
(spoilers: I adored it. I'm also probably going to make this my fixed post, in case anyone ever wants to catch up with me. And also because my second baby, AoS, is growing, and it doesn't have an intro, but I can't leave it out.)
Stats
Aquiver, Aglow: 181k (draft 4) + 195k (draft 5) + hmm, draft 6 is an outlier, because I didn’t rewrite from scratch, so I’m unsure of the written word count. I didn’t change much from draft 5, so I’d say an extra 15-20k. Total word count: 376k+
Remains of a Night: 120k
Aberration of Sunlight: 134k
This was definitely my most productive year to date. And I got so hungry: the more I wrote, the more I just wanted to keep writing, and honestly? I’m proudest of myself for literally carving writing time whenever I got a spot into my schedule. Mostly it was from 8pm-11pm, but I had a mad run where my only free window was from 1am till I literally felt I was dying… I’ll talk about that separately🤣🤣👌
Though, I'm seriously understating it.
Like a lot of other people, I would have all these hours when I was younger when I didn't have anything to do, yet I'd still find some excuse not to write. "I'm waiting for the right time." "I'm anxious I'm not going to get it right." "Tomorrow! Tomorrow I can start right from the morning, and I'll have more time to write, yeah?" or "I'm too tired now, it's late..." and so the snowball rolled down and downhill and I found every reason under the sun not to write, now that I think about it. Sigh. So much time wasted. But I can't regret it either, because I needed those baby steps at that time.
And now! Now I do what I thought I'd never learn to: I prioritize, and I actually organize my daily stuff so it's not so impossible anymore to have a little bit of writing time. I don't take it for granted either. It feels like such character growth for me, I'm immensely proud of it.
And for the record? This year was a huge improvement over yesteryear mentally, too. It turns out, what I needed to get over my word count anxiety… was to be faced with people who literally didn’t give a fuck about it, and just cared about the story. One of the most unexpected things beta stage managed to do to me… was to quench all my anxieties. It’s as simple as that. I read and enjoy very long books. People also do that. So, I’m very happy to say I’m no longer in a tizzy about ‘quiv. It might kill my chances for trad publishing, it might not. I’ll be happy come what may.
Because it’s so simple how working on ‘quiv or thinking about it makes me joyous, and now I can just enjoy that freely. I will miss writing this story so much. I really will. But at least I’ll have it forever to reread, and I hope this thought brings comfort to everyone who also has problems letting go, like it does to me.
Let’s break it down a little, shall we?🤩
Aquiver, Aglow◇◇◇
My little star of the hour. How fond I am of it.
Like you could glean from above, ‘quiv went through three drafts this year. More specifically: in the first part of the year, practically almost as soon as February arrived. I knew it was getting closer to the final version, and gave me the push to finish all three back to back. I couldn’t justify anymore the bazillion AUs I do with rewrites (basically, WHAT IFs from events, WHAT IF it went this different way, WHAT IF Tyrone actually said this here… and so on and so forth. I wanted to test out as many pathways as possible, and did I exhaust every one of them in existence? Definitely not. I don’t think that can happen, you just keep getting new ideas. On and on. What happened, instead, is that these couple different pathways, at some point, cemented themselves as canon in my mind. I didn’t want to tease myself with alternatives anymore, and that’s when I knew they would be it. Some bits from the first draft, some from the third, some from the second. Some were even draft 6 originals!
It’s a bit of a weird process. I definitely didn’t need to reach draft 3, and meet Mezusa, because I could’ve feasibly made it work with just Yles in the story. It still would’ve made sense, though in a different way. But if I hadn’t… I might’ve missed one of the best characters I’ll ever probably have created, and the story (and Yles) is much stronger for her, if you ask me.
For that matter, yes, full rewrites every single draft might take a lot of time and effort, but honestly I don’t think I’d ever change my writing process (save for the moments of frustration when I think I will lol) because of the sheer satisfaction of it. Whoever said so long never to settle on the first version, I owe you a beer and probably some curses as well lmao, but very lovingly. You shaped my writing life.
I don’t have much else to share about ‘quiv, other than it’s off with my beta readers my beloved, and maybe a tentative promise that, if anyone wants, you’ll be able to read this precious ball of hope of mine relatively soon. This story is so gentle to me. And as much as I loved to write and work on it, I dearly hope that whoever decides to give it a go, is treated just the same. That’s the only wish I have.
I also don’t know if I’ll go trad or self-published. Instincts say trad, because I fuckin’ suck at marketing (fact), and I know I’d grow resentful if I’d have to put so many hours into advertising when I know I could instead… write. I’m a writer. That’s the only thing I know how to do. Trad, however, might not be as kind on a ~200k as life’s been, so I might not have a choice. If it comes down to that… I’ll just treat it as I do everything. I don't love this story any less if I just write, publish without a fuss, hope that maybe, just maybe, a reader or two will stumble upon the story and we could talk. Maybe we can have the fun of our lives, create some genuine connection. I know that’s applies to a lot of writers. I hope we can accomplish it.
And so, I’ll finish this section of the wrap-up with a kiss to my ‘quiv, for all the warmth it’s ever brought me. It’s come so far, I know it can live distinct from me from now on. It brings me great comfort. And I look forward to the times I’ll reread it, and we can relive our best experiences together. Never thought I’d get to this point. Thank you, ‘quiv.
Remains of a Night♤♤♤
Mwhahaha! And because ‘quiv took all the pressure, this left AoS to be an extremely fun and spirited experience. Literally the chillest I’ve ever been writing. In many ways, it’s more my thing than I expected ‘quiv to be: I get to murder characters left and right, it’s more plot-heavy and banking on the tension created by a creature that horrifies the characters down to their marrow, but still the only way to defeat it is to know it better, which, uh, might have unpleasant consequences for them. It’s got chase and stealth scenes, and it always shoots me with adrenaline to think about them. In short, exactly my jam.
It’s not a new book, nope. You knew it before as Aberration of Sunlight, but from the get-go I felt it would be bigger than ‘quiv. Very fortunately for me, I had a place where to break it, and behold: there’s RoaN (book 1), and AoS (book 2). There might be a third book, which I dearly hope not because titling sucks, but it depends on the Sycamine arc. More on that in AoS.
One last thing to note, before we delve into the story (hoo-ray for earlier drafts, because I can talk more frankly about them). This is the culprit of my 1am writing adventures!!😫❤ My schedule became too packed, then NaNo came round and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to honor how AoS began, because it was last year’s NaNo, aaand I’m happy to say I won NaNo, somehow, with 56k down before I died. At that time, I only had one section left to write (from both books), otherwise, hahahaha, yeah, it wouldn’t have flown. Still, most of draft 2 I’d written in September-October, with my fairy lights, late nights, and cups of hot cocoa, exactly like how life should be<3
Alright. We’re going through them chapter-by-chapter again, exactly because I love seeing the titles so much:
ACT 1
Cracked Visor, Scorpion Grass
I did it! I did! Twas another shower thought I managed to get down in time. Bare broken sentences, but they did the impossible, and arranged this chapter into a structure I adore to bits and won't ever change. (And 'quiv's naughty voice left me alone for once and I could write it properly!) While I don't think I'll ever be happy with a first chapter (not as a concept, but the writing — part of me will always wish that the reader just had all the information already lol), this one is in the right place.
It pays its respects to the story of the broken helmet at the foot of a spaceship, and how it reconnects Madigan with all the people who'd suffered from being tethered to the planets when they yearned to fly, but the Beast punished them cruelly for it. It makes him feel phantoms of their efforts. The tone is exactly what I needed this story to start from: melancholy and numbly hopeless, against the backdrop of the Beasts's echoed cries.
Rain Through the Universe
Unlike 'quiv, because RoaN and AoS are way more plot-heavy, it's not as easy to change things willy-nilly (whereas 'quiv was all about character bonds and dynamics). As such, it's very similar to draft 1. Because of that, I'll frankendraft next (select and combine drafts 1 and 2, rewrite to connect them) and afterwards I'll try something I've always wanted to. (Scrivener keeps hinting at it!) I'm gonna split the chapters into scenes, and focus on those individually and how I can just rewrite them and set their purpose in stone<3 I'm excited!
As for the chapter itself, gods, I love the atmosphere. Just the wreckage of a sundered ship, and Madigan’s sudden madman appearance making a lasting impression on Spica, because how could it not. They no longer answer distress calls in that age, it just means more dead bodies. In fact, they're forbidden to. Madigan instead brings him what he himself lacks: hope. And a lot of crawling around while dreading the Beast's lambent eye opening, and oh my, the moments are really flying by😈👏 extreme fun for me as the writer.
Aberration of Light
If you remember, the books follow two timelines, which will connect at some point. The first and main one is Madigan and Spica’s story. The other is Holloway’s, in the distant past of that universe, and who’s been dubbed the most selfish man in existence. That’s important, because of how the Beast came to be. But that becomes important later. For now, a weird-ass new recruit has joined the ship, and the witchy crew will very soon start making bets if she’s the Beast in human flesh, which really wouldn’t bode well for their future.
Night Falls On Their Reflection
Draft 2 became Spica’s draft. It was high time. He didn't exist in the original idea beyond chapter 2, but he refused to die with his story untold. And now he's one of the most independent thinkers I've ever written. Now he's Madigan's son (yes, even at 25), best friend, back-to-back partner all in one, and I could watch the trust and mutual respect between these two forever. To be sure: Madigan comes up with the dumbass plans, and Spica's only too happy to follow him through everything (it is good fun.)
He's repaying the incredible kindness Madigan's shown him when answering his distress call, after all.
But it goes a bit further than that, doesn't it? Madigan is used to watching over myriad people. He's the Superintendent of his planet, and while he genuinely loves people, kindness is his default. It doesn't go further than that for him. He doesn't necessarily think people need, much less desire his presence there beyond Madigan extending help, and most of the time, he's content with that. Kindness does make him happy. And it should be the same with Spica now, shouldn't it? He's kind, but he's not Spica's family, nor ever will be. Yet he immediately feels a connection with the boy, that has nothing to do with bonding over escaping-a-cosmic-disaster. And so does Spica.
This is the moment when Madigan starts feeling guilty, for stepping where he should not. But here's the beauty of Spica's character: he's nothing if not dead sure of his own feelings, and what he sees with his eyes. It's okay if Madigan keeps unexpectedly taking steps back. For very long, there'd been nobody to support Spica's beliefs. So he does the same, as when he followed his heart to go into dead space: he believes in himself and Madigan, and that their paths aren't meant to diverge. They mean too much to each other for that to ever happen.
(In short, and legend says you can still hear me screeching about these two ten thousand years later, I love these two so much, and especially the parallels between Spica going alone into outer space and loving Madigan.)
(And, okay, obviously all these developments don't happen in a single chapter, but I couldn't stop gushing🤭🥰.)
Who Puts These Tombs in Ice
Overall, I think draft 2’s Luitgart performed worse than draft 1. Mainly it's the setting I want to revert (still an icy, sempiternally dark hell, but with different ice constructions) because some of the beats are a huge improvement, and again, I gotta combine the two. Otherwise, I’m still as obsessed about the Luitgart arc as I’ve ever been, and huge thanks to it for being so strong it could function as an ending of its own, allowing me to split the book.
Gettin’ into spoilery territory, but I have to un-kill Madigan so many times it leaves me in hysterics. That was what I was supposed to fix this draft. It got worse. Considerably.
(One constant: the chapter being a love letter to Madigan, and how his first answer will always be to help the other, no matter if they deserve it or not<3 and finally, finally, he gets acknowledged for it, and the favor returned.)
ACT 2
Lemon-Dotted Days + Remnant
Two Holloway chapters! I’m actually massively pleased with how they’ve turned out. Last year, I said the main issue was that I had an outline, and that never works for me. So I did what I do best and rewrote everything from scratch, and the result is both uncanny and… unexpected.
Unexpected, because I never in my life thought Holloway’s voice would make me laugh so much. He’s supposed to be unsympathetic, but then you get his interactions with Saintlark (the new crewmate, possibly Beast) where they’re contemplating the harvest of a nebula, and he’s harshly critical of it, which gives Saintlark hope… only to go deadpan One Moment Later: if they’d used the nebula to prolong their lives instead of bolstering the war, they wouldn’t have died like clown idiots.
And, they could’ve maybe stolen immortality from the nebula. They would've had to share it with him, of course. Or he would've murdered them to get it.
That, my guys, is his personality in a nutshell.
I have a lot of feelings on Holloway now, and most involve me huffing and slapping my forehead while groaning, but oh my gods. Was it ever so fun. And wait, wait, wait. Since I'm talking of humor (apparently a lot of comedy fit into this horror lmfao) I have to show you guys the following section🤣🤣👏:
Corpse Snow
The drifters are set howling on the ice. They share glances, five separate vehicles nodding at each other. Madigan revs up the engine, splitting the air with a jet of steam and vibration.
The last of the marines are climbing into the box. A figure flashes past Madigan’s drifter — and he leans over, teeth grinding because of his ribs, and he does his very best to grab someone by the back of their suit and pull. Workout days were never his strength, though. He only succeeds in stopping them in the frost smoke.
It’s Spica dangling from his hand, expressionless.
Lieutenant Hahn instantly seizes on the situation. He throws Madigan a long, withering look. “Whatcha doing, Boss?” he asks softly, about to unhinge his jaw again.
Madigan nudges Spica into the drifter. “Picking up your boy.”
Spica gets the hint and deposits himself into the front seat, glancing from his father to his Superintendent. He seems to give up on whatever’s going on, and makes himself cozy in the frosty spot. And Madigan, of course, pretends not to notice Hahn’s drifter sliding closer.
“And you didn’t consider I might want to have my son with me?”
Madigan looks up and sighs. “Lieutenant, dear Lieutenant,” he starts pleadingly. “Why won’t you show some leniency to a poor, wounded man?”
Hahn’s drifter stops, summoning a breeze across the icy floor that gently rocks the other vehicle. His breathing distorts the comms with static. “And what exactly is my son right now?”
“My trusty navigator,” Madigan answers easily.
“Sir’s emotional walking stick?” Spica pipes in at the same time.
They both look over. Spica’s quietly turned to the navigation, as serene as daylight, seemingly oblivious to how Madigan's expression changes, lightning-fast. He quickly hides it under the guise of a polite mask, as the marines stir and turn their attention on them. They’re snickering.
Lieutenant Hahn throws up his hands, giving up on everything.
This is also the first 30k chapter I’ve ever written. It's everything I've ever wanted to do with ice.
Heart of the Void
The end of the book. Originally, it was the ending section to Corpse Snow, but since it already got so ungodly long, I chipped off that bit and I have to say I’m very happy with how it works as an epilogue! So it ends the frosty, weary journey, and I can’t see the two books as separate yet, but here we bid goodbye to the first.
Aberration of Sunlight♧♧♧
I did the unthinkable and created a fifth arc. This might not seem like much to you, but I was screaming bloody murder you guys😭😭😭. Sigh. It’s so sigh. For so long, AoS consisted of four clear-cut acts, but it was necessary. With the introduction of Sycamine, and making it two books, it was just needed. It’s still one of the worst things I’ve ever done because I was used to four😃💔
(The chapters continue from where RoaN left off – from chapter 10, to 21.)
ACT 3
Retro Spectrum
Sycamine, oh Sycamine. Definitely the break I needed before Days in Darkness. It made for a really neat beginning. It’s calmer, focusing on the knowledge they have on the Beast. It’s also a reflection on Procyon (their main star) and the story of the two straggler dog constellations, and what they'd been running away from. I liked the direction it took. It veered away from the Beast for a bit, so the tension kept expanding in the background. And when it returns, well... maybe they shouldn't have been so eager to see it again🤭.
It suffers from the same syndrome as draft 1’s first chapter… it’s there in the vicinity of the idea, but too much to the left. Not bad for a first attempt. The setting annoys me – I really don't enjoy writing cities, and AoS didn't change that. So, for our next try, I was thinking... maybe we don't need to be on the planet, but up close and veeery personal with it. It's a secret❤.
And, oh gods. I put a moustache-twirling villain in this. And then I couldn’t stop myself from naming some sucker Sweetman Calories. I don’t know what happened to me during those days, but I’m crying🤣🤣🤣.
Toast to the Light
Holloway and Saintlark’s story is slowly coming to an end. Unexpectedly bleaker than draft 1, yet it feels much more sincere. Holloway has a way of saying everything Saintlark needs to hear. No surprise. They did that to themselves.
Dissonant Recognition
Ahhhh, the Madigan-is-slowly-losing-his-grip-on-reality chapter, or maybe he should really stop staring into the suns. One of my favorites<3 Also because it features Moren (!!!) who has a blast staying in the grey morality area, because she doesn’t know if her actions could ever matter, or if she could change anything. Does she just exist? Is she a player or just pawn? Who knows. Besides that, she gets along great with Spica. They form such a teasing duo, the level of mutual respect they felt for each other on sight was a delight to write. My favorite ally of theirs, even if her destiny lies elsewhere.
Night Beneath the Elevator
Best title hands down, dethroning Solgesis. I’m going batshit crazy about the visuals, it's exactly my thing. This half-light slanted over an elevator waiting in a rundown basement to be boarded. And there's something underneath it, and always has been. Something insidiously creeping up and waving its tendril fingers at you as you're just waiting for the fucking thing to ascend. Immaculate, guys, I'm telling you, and I'm cursing my hands because I can't make a wallpaper of this. I want to eat that atmosphere.
Time-sensitive missions, y'all.
And why the heck did nobody inform me I was going to add Command as an actual character and have them talk with Madigan?! That entire convo, made up entirely on the spot but somehow with a direction, made me realize what an idiot I’d been for not doing it sooner. They mean so much to Madigan, after all.
(And Mariya. So much Mariya in these chapters.)
ACT 4
Loop System
Like Who Puts These Tombs in Ice, draft 1 might’ve done it better. Not Spica and Madigan, though, because of the sheer development Spica’s been through and the dynamic he’s managed to form with the crew. It's different from Madigan’s, but similar enough that it’s got Hahn commenting lightly: [Spica’s] picked up quite a few habits from Madigan, hasn’t he? Almost as if they’ve gotten very very close, huh? How about Madigan tell him more?
(I adore writing Hahn.)
Outreach
Another Holloway chapter. Doesn’t have the punch of the kids subplot from draft 1, but this just makes it worse for Saintlark personally, because, this time, the consequences are on her.
Days in Darkness
I knew the moment I first got the idea this would be my favorite chapter. Well, it finally happened in draft 2: when the entire crew is here, this time, and ready for the final countdown, to relive the experience of being trapped in a ship that's disintegrating. No more heroes left behind. I'd been so tired writing this chapter in draft 1, but this time around it was incredible. Everything went up sharply from here, both in terms of events and how on fire I was.
(Maybe less than the gorgon, but I was.)
ACT 5
Echo Terminal
The first of the two log chapters.
I've never written smoother, more visual chapters than in this period. Days in Darkness changed me so much, I was writing day and night by this point and couldn't get enough. Well, I hit my limit in the second half of the very last chapter, but I am beyond satisfied. Even the Beast's metamorphosis took me by storm, because I'd been wondering what the final verbs, the final images, the final design for it was going to be. I didn't expect it to come to me this early, and with such thrill. Those were my very best days of the year, and I toast to them.
(And I knew it was going to be fantastic when Halo's Warthog Run OST started blaring in my head, with as much adrenaline.)
Where, Now? + Solgesis
My beloved. The second and last of the two log chapters, but it’s Noelle Saintlark’s log.
Holloway’s timeline ends here. Or maybe it just gets carried into the future. I thought I’d want to rewrite his parts again, make the plot just a tiny bit more psychedelic and nonsensical because it’s so close to the Beast… but Solgesis put all my fears to rest. Even the formatting and layout is a bit of that special thing I’ve always wanted to try, and it really changes the perspective of the previous chapters. There's a new confession that stands at the heart of Holloway's stories.
Honestly, the only thing that needs urgent working on is the anger at the end of the chapter.
Anger is so hard for me to write sometimes. Not because I don’t connect with it, but because I feel self-conscious writing it. The wildest I felt it was when I tackled 'quiv's chapter 3 and Imera's Turning speech, both in quick succession (before I'd even written draft 1. I'd been taking notes.) Since then... I just thing back to how keenly I'd felt that anger, and I kind of intimidate myself out of it. Kind of like a natural resistence, I quench it from myself. Which is actually hilarious when you think about it. It’s like I’m going I BANISH THEE FROM MY BRAIN because generally, as a person, I dislike feeling and operating on anger. But no worries. I’m going to find a way around it.
Watch me😎.
What Goes Around…
(Now it’s the time for me to start crying some rivers, and, alright, it won’t be visible so I’ll say it: the chapter titles are holding a conversation, guys. They speak to each other. And sometimes it’s both sides of the same coin, like how What Goes Around (comes around) hints here. If you take two chapters, one from the beginning and one from the end (for example 1 and 21) it'll tell you a little secret. Okay, What Goes Around and Rain Through the Universe communicate through their plot, which I can’t spoil but of course it has to do with Madigan and Spica and how they first meet… but there is one title pair that does it best visibly.
Lemon-Dotted Days and Days in Darkness.
And I hadn’t even planned this. All the parallels I wanted to draw… I feel like they built themselves, guys. They really did, and it makes me so wildly happy I don’t even know how to stop my hands from flailing.
And, with them being 21 chapters, they meet in the middle, on the one unpaired chapter.
Called Toast to the Light.
I friggin’ love everything.
New Sunrise, Forget-Me-Right
Of course, Forget-Me-Right is a play on Scorpion Grass. But it’s also such a gentle name for the chapter, because everything ends here. Lying on their backs, staring out into the universe, and it really, really is over. Just a dark horizon on which stars flare and bloom. And suddenly, that maddened rush to make every sacrifice count, to remember every soul they’ve encountered because the legend says the Beast absorbs you when it kills you – all that suffocating pressure dissipates. Lightness remains. Because they’ve protected each other.
For the first time in my writing journey, blood rushed to my head with such emotion I had to stop writing, which never happens. I had to look up and exclaim, holy fuck. But how could I not, considering how the story ends for the Beast? I am speechless. A lot of gorgeous surprises this draft.
Conclusion□●□
Whew, what a year it's been! As for how 2024 will probably look like, though I don't like making plans: finishing the beta stage for 'quiv, and tackling RoaN and AoS's draft 3. Thaaaat one I'm actually starting on Christmas, when I can (finally!!) reread draft 2 with my mug of hot cocoa (or maybe mulled wine for a change) and, no surprises here, I'm hyper stoked for that<3 <3 <3 I legit can't wait to see where the new draft brings them. I might not have set any expectations for them, but they're vying to keep up with 'quiv and I adore it🤭❤
As for my lovely friends... well, you know by how I spam your tags how much I adore you and wish you happiness forever🤩🥺🥳 I don't know what my activity will look like in the near future, so for now I won't be saying anything, and my semi-hiatus continues. Semi, because you're unforgettable and I crave to see what everyone's been up to and (!!!!) what you've written!
So let's meet in 2024 again, and all the best wishes to you, the reader🥰🥂❤.
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Hello! I'm M.L. Nolan, aka., The_Kickit_Domain on AO3, and this is my masterpost!
First, I have an M/NB contemporary romcom book out called Love, Lies, and Cryptids.
One minute, Nico Juárez is enjoying the stability of their job as senior editor at Unified Theory Press, a publishing house specializing in books about the paranormal. The next minute, they're stuck with a terrible new boss and a clueless (yet uncomfortably cute) new assistant. Jasper Milton just wanted healthcare and to keep his sexy side-hustle a secret. Now he's faced with an adorable, yet prickly, supervisor and a company thrown into chaos. Nico and Jasper must team up to stay sane. Hopefully, they won't fall in love—or be squashed by Bigfoot—in the process.
You can get it on...
Amazon.com
Bookshop.org
Barnes & Noble
Your local bookstore if you request it! The ISBN is: 9798988338604
More fics and original work below...
(lovely Martin Blackwood artwork by @hihereami)
The Magnus Archives fics:
My biggest series is the Love & Nonsense AU, which is a book publishing/bookshop AU with, as of today, over 250k words, two and a half long fics (the half is WIP), and several shorter fics both smutty and not smutty.
We've got one good solid JMart longfic, Love & Nonsense at Leitner Press, and lots and lots of TimGerry, including Hiding in Plain Sight.
The Sandman fics
These are mostly Dreamling fics, though there is a Gaulcienne fic I'm particularly proud of and a Johazikeen as well.
At the moment, my most popular Sandman fic is Music When You Speak, a human AU, where Dream is lead guitarist for The Endless and Hob owns a record store. There are also lots of podfics, smutty one-shots, and Tumblr ficlets.
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There's also literally just this one Malevolent fic, but that may change. 😉😉😉😉😉
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Aaaaand more original fiction, subscription edition!
Someone to Build Me Up
A weekly MM serial on Ream and Patreon for $5/month patrons, and on Kindle Vella using their token system. (Psp psp psp, Sandman fan friends, this is very Dreamling coded.)
Reeling from a breakup, English professor Zack Carter is trying to pull himself together for his sister's wedding. His recovery includes hiring sexy, snarky, and multi-talented Marcus Berens as his personal trainer. When Zack finds out his ex has chosen his former bully as her wedding date, Marcus agrees to play the role of Zack's boyfriend. But despite a shared love of theater, neither of them are good at pretending their feelings are just an act.
You're the Most
The second book after Love, Lies, and Cryptids, posted in serial form every other week (for now!) on Patreon and Ream for $10/month patrons. (Tim/Gerry lovers, this one's for you. 😉😉😉)
Andie Silvana is stretched as thin as they can get running Blossom & Crow—a goth bookstore and community hub—all by themself. Fresh from rage-quitting his job, Evan Brooks, fears falling back into a life he doesn’t want before he figures out what he does. Both notorious flirts, the two come together like an electrical storm. But what starts out as a little steamy fun may turn into exactly what they need.
Please enjoy! I enjoy good-natured yelling, so don't be shy about saying hello!
Lastly, you can sign up for my mailing list as well for the latest original fiction updates. Thank you!
#ml nolan#the magnus archives fanfic#the sandman fanfic#ml nolan masterpost#m/nb romance#romance books#serialized romance#dreamling#gaulcinne#jonmartin#timgerry#love lies and cryptids#gay romance fiction#lgbtq+ romance
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highlights from the podcast that came out with that new rolling stone article about joe's book today, because i see some people out there are Worried(tm) and i listened to this whole thing and it was actually very lovely cause the article took the worst pull quotes lmao
joe's lit manager was like "you should write a book" and joe was like "oh i don't think i can write a book" and then his lit manager said "yeah you probably can't." to which joe went "YES I CAN." we love a man motivated by spite big mood joe
joe was very adamant that he wasn't publishing this book to dish dirt on his bandmates because he likes them and they're his friends. he didn't set out to sell secret fucked up stories about them or anything. this is not a tell-all, he likes his friends.
he talks about how his insecurities and imposter syndrome lead him to forget and downplay his contributions to the music in general: "it took talking to patrick to remember what i had contributed to this song or that song."
joe was diagnosed with bipolar type 2 and had no idea until his psychiatrist mentioned it to him
he talks about growing up with my chem and feeling a sense of camaraderie there since they exploded into the mainstream at the same time
he talks a bit about his back surgeries and the like and says that during more recent tours he's been able to move around a lot more. he thinks that fans think it might still look boring but for him it was huge because it's more than he's been able to!
re: new music, "i don't know if it's an album, we're just working on songs. [...] we're never not working on music."
"i'm proud of the majority of what we've done, even if i objected to some of it at the time and kicked and screamed through it, i'm still proud because we've continued to look forward rather than go back and say 'let's just make cork tree again'"
"if you haven't been hate-mongered, i recommend it. it makes you feel nice on the inside." joe??
"and then we got the emo moniker and i wear it as a badge of honor at this point" thank you joe for being the only member of fall out boy to say this ldfjlkdjfdfd
when mania was first conceptualized, patrick rented a studio in burbank for a month-long session and he and joe worked on a lot of stuff there together. a lot of the ideas got scrapped unfortunately.
"you have no idea the amount of unreleased music this band has. albums' worth of unreleased music. [...] at least 60-80 ideas i'd record on my own and that's LESS than patrick does. far less."
he talks about how it'd be fun to do a box set with old unreleased stuff but also says they have no idea where a lot of that stuff went. stuff that goes back to cork tree era that is probably "sitting on a hard drive somewhere"
"there is no album right now. there is nothing being made right now. we're just doing what we're usually doing, which is writing."
someone on the fob subreddit with an advance copy of his book says, "but in his book he explicitly says that the band (Patrick/Pete I’m assuming) has been very receptive to him having more input. He mentioned also this new album being delayed because he recently had back surgery and needed to just rest for a few weeks. He called up Patrick and they immediately postponed working on more music because they value Joe’s ideas."
"i don't see an end. i think as long as we still want to do it. [...] as long as we're continuing to make music that we like and we have fun playing the shows, we'll keep doing it. [...] if there's good music to tour on and we enjoy being around each other, we'll keep doing it. [...] we're so lucky, i don't think we're doing it for the money anymore. so what's the point anymore? the point has to be for good music and good times."
#fall out boy#joe trohman#*making poasts#i heartily encourage listening to the podcast all the way through because it really is very lovely#joe's a lovely speaker and i've always said it#this article picked like. the most brutal pull quotes ldkfjldkjfldkjfd#also DESPERATELY curious about what patrick and joe did in burbank for that month session. wtf guys.
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To Become a Superhero You Must do One of Two Things: Get Robbed or Die :)
Hey, I'm the author of 'The Impossible Adventures of the Phantom and the Ninja'. I just thought I could start publishing some chapters of my work to other sites. Here's chapter one of my fanfic- I hope you like it!
Name: Randy Cunningham
Grade: 9th
Title: What I did during my summer break
My summer started out the same, me and my bff (best friend forever) Howard played the original Grave Puncher Trilogy. We played for five days straight (NEW RECORD!!!), beating all 182 levels before I had to be dragged to camp for the rest of the summer.
Yeah you heard that right, I go to summer camp. It’s the kind of camp you would see in those old slasher movies, it has busted old cabins, surrounded by a creepy forest, and filled with reject jocks and wannabe populars. It reeks like an 80’s B-rated horror movie and I wouldn’t even be surprised if some psycho serial killer is out loose in those woods. I’ve been going to this camp since I was six years-old, my mom claims it’s so I could, ‘get out of the house and breathe some fresh air for a change,’ personally I think it’s because she wants to make my summers as miserable as possible.
But other than the porta-potty swirlies, getting dumped into the lake in the middle of the night, and other horrors I face on a daily basis, it’s not all that bad. I have a friend there that makes camp a little more tolerable, his name is Danny Fenton. A few things to know about him is that he loves space and lives somewhere in Illinois, his mom used to attend this camp with my mom when they were kids, it’s part of the reason me and Danny know each other. And like every summer for the past eight years, Danny and I have been dodging campers and too-cheery counselors for eight and a half weeks straight until all the campers come together and have a huge campfire by the lake. It’s probably the only time Danny or I are not being chased.
Usually, after returning from camp I like to just hang out with Howard again, and play Grave Puncher until I’m dragged back to school. But something epic happened! See it started a couple days after I returned from camp, I just pre-ordered the new Grave Puncher video game that’s coming out in November, just left the Game Hole where I was hanging out with my biffer, and was busy talking to Danny…
“I’m sorry your parents are building a what?” Randy could hear Danny face-palming on the other side of the phone. Something heavy banged somewhere in the background making his friend on the phone let out a heavy sigh.
“I said my parents are building a ghost portal- a freaking ghost portal!”
“Dude, that’s so bruce.” Randy said, partly because it annoys Danny whenever Randy talks in Norisville lingo and secondly because he believes Mister and Missus Fenton are the cheese! They are full-time ghost hunters and are literally ripping a hole in the fabric of reality! He really hopes that Danny’s parents will let him come over next summer, maybe even give him a summer internship too.
“No Randy, this is not ‘bruce’, in fact it’s the opposite of 'bruce'. Do you know how long they have been building this? Since I got back from camp! And for the past week it has been non-stop drilling, I can’t even sleep at the house with all the noise coming from the basement!” Danny let out a huge breath, “It’s just going to give Dash and his friends another reason why they should keep shoving, ‘loser Fenton’ in stupid lockers once school starts again.”
Okay so Randy could see why Danny is being such a grump when it comes to this, he really does, after all, if Bash and his friends started poking fun at him having a mom that’s a ghost hunter he would be a little embarrassed about that as well. But that doesn’t mean he won’t stop thinking that his friend’s parents are the coolest.
“Okay first of all you are not a loser,” Randy argues as he unlocks the door to his house, taking off his shoes and heading towards the kitchen, man he’s hungry. “After all you’re not the one with a keytar, remember?” Just as he was about to open the fridge, he spots a sticky note with his mom’s handwriting, she’s going to be gone for the next couple of days. No surprises there really and that just means Randy will get to have the left-over pizza all for himself-cool.
Danny’s laugh snaps Randy out of his thoughts, it wasn’t a sarcastic or bitter snort that comes out of him so he’ll definitely call this a win, “Yeah I guess you’re in even worse shape than I am, I’m definitely praying for you buddy.”
Randy takes it back, he would rather deal with Danny being a grump than this, “Hey, you were supposed to say, ‘No, you aren’t a loser Randy, you’re too bruce to be one.’” He tried to mimic his friend’s voice but it only got a snort in return. He rolled his eyes, taking out a McEnergy (Now with 110% more caffeine!) before going up the stairs and towards his room.
“You know I can’t lie well.” Danny says, and Randy was about to open his mouth, only to stop once he opened the door.
Did a cowboy just jump out of his window?
Shit, was he being robbed?
“Randy, you there?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. But I think I’m going to have to call you right back.” He hung up on Danny before his friend could say anything else. He did a quick scan around the room, noting that anything that has some sort of value was still in its place, which confused him even more and put him on edge. Should-should he call the cops?
His eyes landed on something that wasn’t in his room before. Laying innocently on his table was an ornate wooden box, it was smooth and shiny, with intricate designs forming a circle with a golden insignia in the center that almost looks like a ‘G’ on the lid. It looked like it should belong in a museum, or in his grandma’s attic back in Japan.
Now Randy may not be the smartest person on the earth, but he has watched a lot of horror movies over the years, and when there’s a mysterious almost ancient box just sitting innocently in your room, it’s almost never a good thing. He should just dump it in the swamp, or sink it into the lake just right outside the city, it’s what a smart person would do.
...
But then again Randy was not the smartest person so he just had to open the box.
“The Ninjanomicon…” The words slipped out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying, which weirded him out a little but he quickly brushed that aside when he threw the weird book over his shoulder. He looked down at the box to see if there was anything else and there was. He felt his heart stop when he saw a familiar red and black mask with a note attached to it.
You are the Ninja, It read.
Wait, hold on.
Pause for a minute.
He’s the Ninja?!
“Oh. My. Sweet!” Randy didn’t hesitate to put the mask on his head, the mask glowed and strange symbols encircled him, turning into strands of red and black cloth and enveloping him in an awesome suit. Meanwhile his mind was cycling through hundreds of years of fighting knowledge within seconds, power was seeping into his body, he felt more energized, and felt like he could do things he couldn’t dream of!
He couldn't believe this.
He, Randy Cunningham, is the Ninja, the sworn protector of Norisvile!
Just wait until he tells his friends about this, Howard is going to flip out and he could rub it into Danny’s face that the Ninja really did exist! But just as he was about to get his phone to call Howard about it, he saw one more note at the bottom of the box.
You can’t tell anyone.
“Aw, now that’s wonk!"
And the sucky part is that I can’t tell anyone, not even my bff Howard. Not because he has a big mouth (which he does-sorry Howard). I mean I trust Howard that he won’t tell a soul about my secrets, but the box did say that, ‘I can’t tell anyone.’ Maybe I could just tell Danny? I mean he doesn’t even go here and I know without a doubt that he won’t tell a soul, especially not after the summer of 2010. I still get chills thinking about it.
“Alright, pencils down!”
And now I’m starting to think this wasn’t the best topic for my essay, nice job Cunningham, you’ve only been a ninja for a week and you’re already screwing it up.
Meanwhile in Amity Park:
Danny was tired, absolutely freaking tired.
Danny let out a yawn as the English teacher, a middle-aged guy named Mr. Lancer, continued to drone on about…something or other. The fourteen year-old can’t really seem to find the energy to care what his teacher was talking about. Too busy trying to stay awake in order to avoid getting in trouble on the first day of school.
Mr. Lancer was writing something on the board when Danny had to shake his head in order for his eyes to open. A few of his classmates looked at him weirdly before going back to doing anything that doesn’t include writing down what the teacher was putting up. Some were texting on their phones under their desks, or passing notes when Mr. Lancer’s back is turned, or in Dash’s case aiming spitballs at people’s heads.
Danny felt something slimy hit the back of his neck followed by a few snickers from the jocks behind him. Great, Danny has only attended high school for only two days and he already hates it here.
The bell rings and sighs of relief fill the room as students pack their bags and rush out the door, ignoring Mr. Lancer’s scolding about how he’s the one who dismisses students, not the bell. But it fell on deaf ears and soon the English teacher gave up muttering something about needing to eat lunch anyways.
“Yo Danny!” Danny turned his head to see his best friends, Sam and Tucker, walking towards him from their respective classes.
Danny let out a yawn, “Hey guys.”
“Jeez, you look like a wreck.” Sam gave him a look of concern as she walked past Danny to shove some books into your locker.
“Yeah, your parents still working on that portal?” A couple of students who overheard Tucker let out a couple snickers, making Danny sigh. Just like Danny predicted, the moment he stepped into school he instantly heard jokes left and right at his expense. Mostly about how his parents latest project will blow half the town to smithereens. It’s really not that unusual compared to the other comments he heard before, but just once Danny would like to have regular parents, who have regular jobs, so that way he could have a chance of a social life. Is that too much to ask?
“Yeah,” Danny let out another yawn as the trio made their way towards the cafeteria, “it’s gotten to a point where Jazz and I are sleeping up at the Opt-Center, which somehow is worse than dealing with all the construction down in the basement.” He rubs his back absentmindedly, still sore from sleeping on the floor for the past three nights.
“I still don’t get why you just didn’t ask to go stay over at Tucker’s.”
“Yeah man, is it because of the meat sweat? Cause Foleys don’t do meat sweat.” That earned a snort from Sam as they turned a corner,
“Oh yeah? What about that time-”
“We do not speak about that time!”
“Guys would you just cut it out!” Danny snaps. Both the goth and the tech geek stopped their argument to blink at Danny in surprise, even Danny was surprised at his own outburst. Guilt starting to swell at the bottom of his gut. “Sorry. Look, you guys can go ahead and grab some food, I’ll just be outside taking a nap.” Without another word Danny turned around and made his way to the field.
It took a while for Danny to find a secluded spot outside, especially one where it was far enough away from the football field so Dash wouldn’t see him, but once he did find a spot, it didn’t take long for Danny to close his eyes and get a quick nap in.
Only for it to be ruined by his phone ringing. A very familiar ringtone grating at his ears.
At first he ignored it, too busy enjoying the nice early-autumn breeze. Eventually it stopped and Danny was able to fully enjoy the peace and quiet, soon he felt himself getting more drowsy and was about to fall asleep when his phone rang once again. A part of him wanted to ignore his phone, turn it off so he could have some peace and quiet for the rest of lunch, but he decided against it. He knows that ringtone anywhere, the annoying peppy tune that made Danny’s ears bleed and glared at the phone in annoyance.
Stupid Randy and his stupid ringtone.
Danny picked up the call on its third ring. “What do you want?”
His friend snorted, though it did sound a little out of breath, “Rude.”
“You would be too if you had to sleep in the Opt-Center for the third night in a row.”
“Please, I won’t be able to sleep until I try every single invention your parents created. Your parents are ghost hunters dude- ghost hunters! That is like the brucest thing ever!” There was something weird going on with Randy’s voice, it sounded like it was muffled with something. But that’s not Danny’s concern at the moment, right now Danny wants this conversation to be done so he could at least sleep for the last twenty minutes of lunch.
“Yeah sure, I think you’re the only person in the world who thinks being real-life ghost hunters are ‘bruce’. Anyways, is there a reason why you’re calling me?” And disturbing me from my well deserved nap?
That made Randy pause for a moment, “Oh right, forgot for a moment.” Right after he said that, a huge BANG! Could be heard on the other side of the line followed by a huge roar that made Randy let out a shriek and Danny to pull his phone away to save his poor ear drums.
“Uh…everything okay over there?” Now, Danny knows Randy is a trouble magnet, he’s known the dude since he was like six, but this sounds a lot more dangerous than Bash and his friends chasing Randy down the hall. He might actually be concerned for the guy.
“Oh yeah, I’m doing awso- OOF!” He sounds like he just slammed into some lockers, it made Danny winced. Randy let out a groan, before pausing and muttering something about how he wasn’t getting pwned. Which made Danny even more confused.
“Right! Okay,” Randy grunts, “so I have this friend…named uh Reginald-yeah! And he may or may not have recently found out that he is the next protector for his city!” Something heavy pounding on the floor could be heard on the other line, luckily getting further away as Randy kept talking.
“Okay…”
“Yeah so Reginald Bagel- yup that’s his name- Reginald Bagel is the new hero for the city with little to no experience and now he’s fighting a monster and he doesn’t know how to beat it!” Somewhere in the distance something roared. Randy let out a nervous chuckle.
“Thoughts?” Danny had to process this for a minute, trying to figure out what the hell Randy was talking about. “I’m sorry what?”
A huge crash was heard on the other side and there was that roar again, louder this time.
“Just answer the question!”
“Okay, okay fine!” Danny thought for a moment, “Okay so is there a tutorial?”
“What?” Heavy pounding was heard on the other side of the phone, getting closer but Danny pressed on.
“You know a tutorial, how to hero 101, instructions, anything?”
"OH MY JUICE! I forgot the instructions! Thank you so much Danny, I owe you one, bye!” With a ‘click’ the call ended leaving Danny’s head swirling around with questions, that phone call made him antsy and on edge. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep, much less focus for the rest of the day when he’s too busy worrying about his friend. And of course this was a perfectly good time for a stream of cold milk to be dumped dumped right on top of his head, followed by snickers of the last person he wanted to see at the moment.
“Whoops, sorry Fen-turd, I guess I must have mistaken you for a trashcan.” That earned a couple more snorts from Dash’s friends.
“Eh, I’m pretty sure it’s a common mistake, especially with that kind of fashion sense!” Paulina butted in. The group of jocks and cheerleaders continued to laugh as they walked away. Leaving Danny soaking in a pile of milk.
“Great,” Danny mutters as he shook his head to get some of the excess milk off, “This day cannot get anymore worse, right?”
“AHHHHHH!”
So apparently Danny was wrong, it can get so much worse.
Let’s set the scene shall we?
At 3:30 pm Danny, Sam, and Tucker took the bus to Fenton Works, in order to study, do some homework, decide that’s dumb, and spend the rest of the evening playing video games.
At 3:48 pm, the trio of friends went inside. They said hi to Jazz, who was busy getting homework done, battled an army of possessed hot dogs in the fridge to get some snacks, and planned on heading up to Danny’s room to take advantage of the quiet for as long as possible.
At 4:00 pm, Jack Fenton barged into Danny’s room dragging all the kids down to the basement, where Mr. Fenton gave a speech about his hardships, setbacks, and his love for fudge, before unveiling the finished ghost portal.
At 4:15 pm, Jack would have continued speaking for the next hour, if Maddie Fenton didn’t interrupt her husband saying that the sooner he turns on the portal, the sooner they could all dig into Jack’s celebratory fudge.
It’s 4:16 pm, and everyone is waiting with bated breath as Maddie and Jack Fenton finish the last touches of the portal, before putting the plug in. For a second it seemed like everyone was holding their breath and Danny couldn't help but feel excited. His parents were about to tear a hole in the fabric of reality!
Except instead of a big flash, there was a small spark and then nothing.
Around 4:45 pm, after almost thirty minutes of trying to find the mistake, to correct any miscalculations, anything and everything to make the portal work, nothing had any effect. Finally, Maddie let out a sigh and said that they should stop and continue to work on it tomorrow. She said sorry to the kids and guided Jack upstairs telling him that they will just break out the failure Fudge instead.
It’s 4:46 pm, Jazz left soon after their parents did, leaving the trio of fourteen year-olds alone in the basement lab. While Tucker and Sam were taking a look at the lab, as this was probably their third time down there, Danny can’t seem to stop staring at the portal. His parents worked on this for almost two weeks, with years before that saving up money for the materials, and years spent on calculations dedicated to this stupid contraption. He’s angry that after all that work his parents put into it, it still didn’t work.
It’s 4:50 and after four minutes of looking, Sam had an amazing idea, a wonderful and awesome idea. And while Danny did have his doubts and was a little nervous, Danny could admit he was a little curious. So he donned a hazmat suit that his dad gave him for his fourteenth birthday, ripping off the embarrassing sticker of his dad off his chest before stepping into the skeleton of the ghost-portal. Or Fenton-Portal as his dad called it. He was about five steps in before everything went to shit.
At exactly 4:51 pm, Danny tripped on some wiring. Not wanting to land face first on metal flooring, he leaned his weight onto one side, not knowing that his hand touching the wall was actually pressing the on switch. Danny heard a little, ‘click,’ and before he could really process it, he was instantly shocked with painful volts of electricity. It was burning him alive, sizzling his insides, and making him numb to everything but pain.
Pain.
Pain.
Pain.
Pain.
PAIN.
“AHHHHHHHHH!”
He closed his eyes in pain, it sent his breath away, made him feel his heart stopped beating, and then all he saw was white. His head was all spacey, and floaty, numbing the pain.
At 4:52 pm, the portal stopped buzzing and instead of an empty hole in the wall there was a swirl of neon green, a dull hum in the air, and a fourteen year-old kid stumbling out of the portal.
“DANNY!” Sam and Tucker both shouted, diving towards their friend to break his fall, Sam was on the ground with Tucker landing ungracefully on top of her. She let out a muffled "Oomf!" from the unexpected weight, she expects another weight on top of Tucker, only for it to never come. Instead, she felt something cold and weird flowing past her making her shiver. When she opened her eyes, she was met with a passed out, white-haried Danny. It surprised her so much she let out a scream and shoved Tucker out of the way.
“What the hell!” Tucker shouted, his arms flailing before landing on his butt. The two teens took a minute to catch their breath, the eerily green glow being the only source of light in the basement. Sam was the first to recover, slowly crawling back to Danny. She took note of his white hair, his inverted-colored hazmat suit, and sickly pale skin, definitely nothing like Danny from thirty minutes ago. But what scared her more was how his chest didn’t move, and that he was cold to the touch- to the point that she feels like she would get frostbite if she just let her hand stay on his shoulder. Fuck, did she just kill her best friend?
“Sam!” Tucker’s shout snapped her out of her thoughts, it made her aware of the unbearable pressure that was clogging up her throat. But she quickly ignored that to turn her attention to her other friend, who was pale from fright, with his eyes widening in horror. At first Sam was confused as to what Tucker might be seeing, until Tucker pointed a finger and Sam’s eyes followed where the finger was pointing at. Sam must have been too stuck in her head to notice neon green eyes staring straight into her soul.
“D-Danny.” Her voice came out as a whisper, she didn’t know what to do and she’s pretty sure she can’t just type: ‘I accidently killed my best friend, only he’s not dead, he has white hair and glowing green eyes. What do I do?’ on google and expect a solid and helpful answer.
“You alright man?” Tucker came in closer, still pale, and still hesitant, but still there. Danny however did not look like he was present at at. His eyes were roaming over everything, but it seemed like he was not processing what was happening. Sam was just about to tell Tucker to call for Mr. and Mrs. Fenton when she heard the familiar sounds of heavy boots storming down the stairs. It seems like that snapped Danny out of whatever he had going on, since his eyes started to widen, and he looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack.
“Kids, is everything okay down here!” Jack turned the corner, only to freeze his eyes widened as he took the scene in front of him. Maddie came down a second later, her mouth gaping, and shoulders slumping. Oh god, Sam was a dead, dead girl wasn’t she.
“Uh… Mr. and Mrs. Fenton-”
“It’s not what it looks like!” For a second Sam shot Tucker a glare before elbowing him in the sides, the geek let out a yelp before giving her his own glare.
“The ghost portal…” The Fentons slowly made their way towards the teens, Sam casted her eyes down waiting for the inevitable anger.
“The ghost portal works! Ha-ha, I did it!” If this was anger, Jack had a weird way of showing it, especially with his dance.
“Oh Jack, we must have forgotten to include any calculations on the chances of the portal having a delayed start!” Maddie exclaimed, slapping a head over her forehead as if that was a bigger deal than her youngest child’s changes.
“Delayed starts- hah! Who cares about that, Maddie, when we have a fully working ghost portal on our hands!” Jack’s laugh seemed to vibrate the very walls and floor of the lab. The big man took Maddie into his arms swinging her around as the couple continued to celebrate and laugh, Sam took a chance to look at Tucker only to find he was just as confused as she was. Finally when Jack set Maddie back down on the ground, the woman seemed to take notice of the frozen teens, even with her head covered it was obvious she was a little confused when she looked at the teens.
“Where’s Danny?” Huh? Sam quickly looked down to see she was carrying nothing, but that can’t be right. She can still feel Danny, his tense shoulders, his fidgeting, she could even feel and hear him sucking in breath! But she can’t see him. She turned to look at Danny’s parents, both growing more anxious the longer she didn't answer. And she really doesn’t want them to freak out, cause if they freak out Sam’s pretty sure she will freak out. Luckily Tucker was there,
“Wait, you mean you didn’t see him? He told us he was going out to Smarty-Mart to go get some snacks!” Oh seriously Tuck?! Why would they believe that? The closest Smarty-Mart is almost two miles away! The adults were quiet for a moment, just staring at the two visible, and one invisible, teens. Sam couldn’t help but fidget under their gaze. And just when Sam thought they were about to demand where Danny actually is, both parents smiled, and Sam let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“Well, alright then!” Jack said as he dragged Maddie up the stairs with him as they celebrated their working ghost-portal. When they couldn’t hear their voices anymore did Tucker and Sam allow themselves to turn back to where Danny was supposed to be. At first Sam saw nothing, just her hands holding nothing. Then she saw something starting to appear, it was like watching something with a bad TV reception, all staticky and at times hard to see, but then Sam saw neon green eyes, white hair, and a black and white hazmat suit. And just when Sam could see Danny clearly, a bright light circled around Danny making both Sam and Tucker shield their eyes and take a step back. When the light faded, Sam was met with a familiar blue-eyed, black haired teen with a white and black hazmat suit.
No one said anything, they were just three teens staring at each other in an almost catatonic state. A phone vibrated off to the side, it was Danny’s phone. Without thinking Tucker took Danny’s phone, unlocked it and stared at the screen.
“Uh, your dad wants you to pick up some more fudge while you’re at the store.” That seemed to snap Danny out of his trance.
“What the fuck just happened!”
It was exactly 5:12 pm when Danny calmed down enough to sneak out of the basement and head straight towards the direction where Smarty-Mart was. It took Danny an extra hour to get there and back due to his new…abilities, kicking in at the most inappropriate times. In his hands he held a bucket of his dad’s favorite fudge, and some other things to make it seem like he actually went to the store for him and his friends.
It was 11:15 pm and Sam and Tucker were still talking about the portal incident to make sense of it all, while Danny just stared at his untouched candy, waiting for everything to just make sense. And when he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket, Danny took a quick look to see that Randy had texted him. And while he knows it’s a bad idea to let his texts go unanswered, Danny just couldn’t. So he turned off his phone, tossed it to the other side of his bed, and continued to stare at his candy.
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SAVIOUR COMPLEX (Mark Hoffman x F!Reader) (Pt. 12)
(Pt. 11) (Pt. 13)
Rated: M
Tags/TWs: aftercare/ language/ past abuse/Mark Hoffman being a c*p/reader's life is complicated/ Mark is protective bc it's his job but he's also problematic/because he's a c*p/ Detective Gibson/slight description of bloody boo boos
“You know what I was thinking?”
You and Mark lay in your bed. He's caressing your head and you have a hand resting on his broad chest. Your bodies are slack from sex and you're still coming down from the high.
“What's that?”
“Something Gibson said,” you feel Mark stiffen. “No, not that. But…I think he had a point. A shitty one, but maybe true? He said that I was wasting my life. My talent.”
“Prick doesn't know what he's talking about.”
“I don't know. Maybe not. But still, it got me thinking…what if I could be doing more?”
“What if?”
“You gonna talk in more than one sentence at a time?”
“Fine. Do you remember what you said when we first met?”
“Um…I'm pretty sure I said a lot. Which part?”
“You said that you keep your life small on purpose. That it was control.”
“I said that?”
“You know you did.”
“Hm.” You kiss his bicep. “What about it?”
“Well, what if your desire for control is what's holding you back? That you're scared of letting it go?”
“You're a psych now?”
“Alright, fine.”
He goes to move from the bed but you pull him back playfully. He falls, you hold him to you and run your fingers through his hair.
“I don't know…you know, I have a BFA.”
He smiles up at you. “No shit.”
“Yep. English. Wanted to go into publishing.”
“So why didn't you?”
You shrug. “Ted. Needed me to work so I put everything else on hold.”
“What about now?”
“I don't know. How do I move away from the control without being afraid to fail?”
“Well, you just have to trust that someone will catch you.”
You laugh a little. “No one can guarantee that. We're all alone at one point or another.”
“Not you. Not again.”
“Yes, even me. Things happen, Mark.”
Sensing your shift in mood, Mark sits up and brings you with him.
“Hey, look at me. You're never gonna be alone again, you hear me? Never. I won't let it happen.”
You stare deep into his eyes and can barely see color for the way his pupils are blown. His breathing is heavy. He means it.
You almost feel bad for getting him worked up so you pull him in for a kiss. A hand comes to rest on the side of your neck and you sigh, leaning into his touch.
“I guess I never really thought about what else my life could be. Never thought I'd have time.”
“You do. As long as you're with me, I guarantee it.”
Maybe something about that phrasing should strike you as odd but when he takes you into another kiss you hardly care, just allow yourself to fall into him.
If he wasn't so caught up in you, Mark would be horribly bored.
Nothing at his day job, and his night job is suspended indefinitely until he can shake the precinct from you.
It's a standard day of Mark clocking in, going to his office, paperwork, patrol, stopping by some crime scenes.
It's a standard day, until he gets a phonecall.
“Hoffman.”
“Mark!”
Mark creases his brow in curious thought. “Gibson?”
“Hey, we’re down at the abandoned museum on the Bailey Waterfront. We need you down here now.”
The corner of Mark’s mouth quirks up. “Hang on, let me get my recorder. Say that again.”
“Dammit, Mark. I’m being serious. It’s an active Jigsaw trap. I’m not stupid enough to think you won’t be helpful here.”
Fuck! Mark curses to himself. Who the fuck is this guy?
“Alright, I’m on my way.”
You get the call in the middle of work and you have Gerri speed you from the restaurant to the hospital. They don't mind to do it, of course, especially considering the fact that you can't stop shaking. It's bad enough that Mark's a cop; it's even worse that he's attached to the Jigsaw case, even if unofficially at this point.
You have to press your forehead to the cool glass of the window simply to focus on that sensation, rather than the nausea emanating through your bones. You've never been a patient person. Today it's worse.
The receptionist directs you and Gerri back to the ICU where you're turned around by five different attendings until you finally find the area occupied by Mark and Gibson. Mark's jacket and button up are off and he's in the process of getting stitches in his leg.
“Jesus,” you gasp, actually getting a good look at the drying blood and the new blood that oozes from the wound. He has other garden variety scrapes and bruises, but the worst of it seems to be the leg.
But he smiles when he sees you.
“Hey, baby.”
You sigh in partial relief and hug him the way you can from his spot sitting on the bed. He presses his head to your chest and you circle his scalp with your fingernails.
“What happened?” You ask as the panic begins to settle some more. He's calm, so you're growing calmer.
Mark hesitates and you clock it. You look over at Gibson.
“What the hell happened?” You repeat, this time with an obvious accusatory tone laced into your words now that they're directed at Gibson.
“It was another trap, I called Mark in.”
Fury shoots up your spine. “So you kick him off the case just to bring him back in and get him sent to the fucking hospital???”
You make a move towards Gibson but Mark lands a gentle hand on your bicep.
“Hey, he saved me.”
You look between them, your anger paused.
“What?”
“Got caught in the crossfire of a trap. Some buckshot. Gibson pushed me out of the way before I got fifty holes in me-”
You can't listen to it anymore without visualizing it perfectly and you hold him again. Maybe he senses the severity of your concern because he holds you back with his free hand.
“Hey, hey I'm alright.”
But all you can see are those photos of Ted that Gibson showed you with his body bloated and his limbs removed. Mark getting even a whiff of a bullet has tears pooling at your eyes. Any other day you'd kick yourself for being so weak, so vulnerable in front of strangers and, worse, Gibson.
“I'm sorry,” you whisper into Mark's hair. “I can't. I can't lose-”
“Hey, baby, sit down.”
You hear the scrape of a chair behind you and you sit.
“Thanks, Gerr,” Mark says. You reach behind you to hold their hand.
“You don't have to stay.”
“You sure? I don't mind.”
“I know and I appreciate that. I'll be fine.”
“Alright.” Gerri gives your hand a final squeeze and smiles at Mark before leaving. Over Mark's shoulder, you can't help but notice Gibson watching the interaction. You also finally notice that he's alone. And even though you hate him, he still saved Mark, and you feel a stab of pity in your heart.
“Gibson? You okay to get home?”
His eyes widen in surprise, not only that you'd talk to him, but that your words are suddenly considerate.
“Of course. They didn't take my legs,” he responds with sarcasm. You roll your eyes.
“You're right, I'll never ask about your well-being again.”
“Oh, so nothing will change.”
You decide that you're done with the interaction so you lean your cheek against Mark's shoulder and wrap your hands around his large one, content to stay as close to him as possible.
You take Mark home. You've never been to his apartment but the doctors said that he shouldn't drive on his hurt leg. You can't help but sneak glances over at him. He's sweating, still coming down from the pain. His face reflects yours only hours ago. His eyes are closed, his forehead resting against the cool glass. You're reminded of the instincts that overtook you during your movie night. But what you want now, to rest your hand on his neck then up through his hair. To kiss his eyelids as he falls asleep. He feels safe around you. Your heart swells at the thought.
His house is really nice, all rich and dark wood. You carry him into the living room and sit him on a leather sofa. He lifts his arm and flicks on a Tiffany lamp.
You press the back of your hand to his forehead.
“When did they give you a fever reducer?”
“It's been a minute,” he grunts, turns his head.
“Okay. Bathroom?”
He gestures to the back hallway by the staircase. You quickly tuck a lock of hair behind his ear before disappearing to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and giving it some cold water. You bring it back and lay it across Mark's forehead. He sighs into the sensation, and you're not proud of the way the sound makes you feel.
You like making him feel good. You like taking care of him.
Mark sits up to retrieve some preplaced glass of water from the coffee table and takes a long gulp. You watch as some of the water escapes the corners of his mouth and drips down the muscles of his neck. You swallow.
When he finishes, he gasps. He opens his eyes and finds yours.
“You can't look at me like that right now,” he mutters, lids heavy with sleepiness from the drugs.
“I'm sorry,” you whisper with a small smile, stroking his hair.
“It's not fair,” he's getting sleepier.
“I know, I'm sorry. I'm mean.”
He turns into your arm and kisses the soft skin there. He hums.
“I love you.”
And you're too stunned to acknowledge those words before he's snoring softly in your arms.
You wake up to banging.
You jump, jostling Mark who's still in your embrace. He's not quite awake but the sudden noise has you on high alert. You grip Mark's arm just in case you need to shake him awake. You're almost certain it was a banging on the front door.
Silence. You're frozen, heart pounding in your ears.
The banging comes again and you jump.
“Mark! Mark, open the door.”
Now that's interesting, you think, slightly less afraid at Gibson's voice coming through the door but still on edge, because it's- you check the clock- 3 am.
You decide to wake Mark. He grumbles.
“Mark. Mark, I think Gibson's at the door.”
More banging. Mark is managing to open his eyes. At the very least you need the noise to stop, so you help Mark to a sitting position and go to the door yourself. When you open it, you see Gibson on the other side…with about five other cops behind him. Your stomach drops. He looks about as surprised to see you as you do him and his entourage. But he also looks exhausted, like he hasn't stopped moving since he left the hospital hours ago.
“Where is he?”
Your grip on the lip of the door tightens.
“What's going on?”
“Move.”
“No.”
You can't stop yourself from saying it. You can't believe it, but you also know immediately what this is. It's impossible, and you're not going to let it happen.
“Obstruction of justice. You want to get charged, too?”
Gibson looks over your shoulder and you follow his eyes. Mark stands in the hall, or limps, rather. You want to go to him, of course you do, but you can't move.
“I'm not gonna tell you again,” comes Gibson's voice. You look between the two men, count the police outside one more time just to be certain.
“You can't,” you whisper to Gibson, your voice wavering.
“I ain't got a choice.”
Gibson pushes in past you and your back hits the wall. Mark limps towards you but doesn't make it far before two officers have a hold of him, cuffing his wrists behind his back. He fights, what little he can, and one cracks him under the knee. He cries out in pain.
“Stop it!” You shout and run forward, but not before someone can catch you around the waist. “He's fucking hurt!! He was hurt doing his job! This isn't fair!”
“Mark Hoffman, you're under arrest under suspicion of conspiracy to murder and active murder, specifically for the killing of Theodore Simpson-” your heart cracks at Ted's name. “And many others. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you on a court of law-”
Gibson carries on but you push your way to Mark, managing to touch his face one more time.
“I'm gonna get you out of this, okay? I don't know how but I will-”
Someone has you again and Mark…Mark is silent. Doesn't return any affection or offer any of his own. His eyes stare you down though, like he's trying to communicate something. But before you have even a chance of deciphering what that could be, they're walking him out the door.
You do attempt to follow but Gibson has a firm grip on your arm. On instinct, you swing your free hand around to hit him but he catches that one too, and twists you to where both hands are caught and you wince in pain.
“Don't try to fight me.”
“Fucking let go!”
“I get that this is hard. Don't make it worse for yourself.”
You struggle a bit more and he finally lets you go, but by the time he does, the cruiser with Mark inside is already on the main road. You curse, cry, punch the door and grab your hair.
“Fuck you. This isn't fair.”
“There is hard evidence. I know you don't wanna believe it-”
“You were just at the site with him-!”
“I don't know what happened, but it happened, okay?”
He's got you cornered, but almost in a way that is an attempt at calming you. Like you're a wild animal.
“No. I don't believe you. Or I don't believe that it's real. Someone's setting him up.”
Gibson rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“It doesn't make sense! If it was Mark, why would he have stuck around for this long. Are you saying he put himself in that trap a year ago? Does that part make sense?”
“So I don't have it all figured out! But there is reason enough to put him behind bars, at least until we get this thing straight.”
You're all turned around. There are a couple more officers watching your interaction while they should probably be locking the place down-
Oh. Mark's apartment is probably a crime scene now.
“I, uh-”
“Come on. Let's get you home.”
Gibson goes for the door but notices you not following him.
“Don't make this difficult, for the love of god.”
“There's no fucking way I'm getting in a car with you.”
Gibson sighs in exasperation.
“Look. What happened the other day was completely unprofessional and I'm sorry. Shouldn't have happened. But please. Can this night just be over?”
You don't budge.
“Motherfuck- Zimmerman!” Gibson calls over his shoulder. One of the cops comes running. “I'm telling you, in front of her, that I am going to take her home now. If something happens to her, or if for whatever reason she doesn't make it home, you know she was with me. This is me alleviating her fears. Got it?”
The poor cop looks between the two of you before nodding in a slight and confused panic.
“Good. Get back to work.”
Gibson turns back to you as Zimmerman sprints back to his job.
“Alright. Shall we?”
You can't be alone. You hate it. The one person you rely on to keep you comforted in this strange brand of insanity is now locked into it.
You try to get something, anything out of Gibson in the car but he's tight-lipped. Once he drops you off, you lock your front door and sit behind it. Then you make it to your couch, then to the bathtub, filling it with scalding water.
I don’t know. This is the second time you’ve been involved. First time, you’re a witness and get his operation shut down. Second time it’s your ex in a trap. Not to mention…
I’m just saying, who else has been there the first time, and a second time?
If anyone of us would be Jigsaw, it would be Hoffman.
Irony of ironies, you never did like puzzles, and you certainly don't love being the supposed center of one. But this one is looking a little too clear. Like the picture on the box is insultingly simple and yet you insist there are pieces missing. It's a 100 piece puzzle. Just figure out the edges and work your way in.
Yes, coincidences can be bizarre and yes, they can fuck up a life. But when do you stop and take stock, and say “something about this isn't right?”
Is it when the man you love may or may not be a serial killer?
Yes, this is where most people would stop.
You grit your teeth as the water burns you.
Do you maintain some semblance of control by cutting your losses? Because at this point there is a very good chance Mark could go to jail. And with the surmounting evidence, most people would think he deserves it.
And yet you haven't seen any evidence, only heard theories that make sense when you, or they want them to make sense.
If only you could talk to Mark…
But you know they won't let you anywhere near them.
So you need someone else. Someone close to it like he is. Like you are. Someone who's been there.
You drain the tub. You wrap yourself in a robe and sit at your computer.
You've got work to do.
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How is everyone else wrong about Roderich?
-@iron--and--blood
To be honest, my first impulse when I saw this ask was to answer something along the lines of "doesn't everyone think they're the only right person about their blorbo?" But, since you are asking sincerely, I will try to answer sincerely.
My reticence to discuss why I think other people are wrong is more or less coming from my long term experience in this fandom, which I would sum up as "everyone loves you for providing historical tidbits until you want to tell them that their personal favorite headcanon is wrong." I've had far too many people switch from an interest to "it's not that serious/I don't care about historical accuracy" on me over the years. I keep threatening to write a reflection post about how the experience of going from being a person who is interested in history to an academic studying history really soured my experience of the fandom in ways I could not have anticipated, and maybe some day I actually will. But for now, this isn't that post.
Which is a long-winded way of saying don't let what I'm about to say yuck your yum. And if it does, please don't yell at me about it.
Alright, I think a lot of the way people write PruAus especially do not take Roderich particularly seriously. There is a lot, and I mean a lot, of content that more or less makes him arrogant for the sake of humbling him or making him look comically inept. There's a lot of "he gets his ass kicked and gets seduced by Gilbert."
From a historical perspective, this has got to be coming from a lack of interest in Habsburg history or having only seen the several decades old view that the Habsburg empire was a backwards repressive state fated to fall apart. And that is not the view in any scholarship published in the last ten years or so with one notable exception that I can think of, which had to twist itself into knots to avoid its own contradictions.
And look, professional historians in other fields are regularly bad at discussing the Habsburg empire too. This isn't a fandom specific issue.
To really enjoy someone's take on Roderich, I need them to be taking seriously that he was a Great Power. The Catholic bulwark in the early modern period. The biggest power in Europe when he was married to Spain. The architect of the Concert of Europe. Someone with a rigid court structure and an unmatched sense of grandeur.
He may not be able to fight one-on-one particularly well, but be assured that he is a diplomat par excellence. I need him to be intelligent and witty and capable of negotiating his enemy into a corner when he needs to. He has a skill set that no one else can replicate as well as he can, and he uses it to his advantage. I enjoy PruAus most when it is clear that they respect each other for having the skills the other lacks.
In my opinion, he's at his best when he's using his charm and intelligence to work around his physical limitations. Sadly, the fandom has committed to "uptight and stuffy" in a way that would just not work with his actual track record of marrying his way out of problems.
And anything that makes him out to somehow be the one with less charm or sexual experience than Gilbert of all people is pretty much an immediate no for me. If he can't be forward and confident with his bedroom politics, I'm not that interested.
Also no one else ships him with Poland so it's just me in my corner, but ask me about that in a different ask if you want details.
#not tagging with the character#to avoid the aforementioned yelling at me#I'm rather sorry for being a cranky old lady#I've just found its hard to find anyone in this fandom that wants to talk about history seriously
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Kleo is a published author now!
Yes, you are reading it right.
Kleo's special journals are now available on Amazon!
(.com, .de, .co.uk,.fr and other mutations)
Isn't that just sweet?
Yes, it is.
I have made the design and Amazon will print the journal and send it to you. I will receive a small portion of the price. So if you want to both support me AND have a practical journal in your hands, you can go shopping. 😁
Let's see what you can order:
Tarot Journal - Daily Card Pull Tarot tracker for 365 (+1) days in a year, 7.44 inches x 9.69 inches
This is a journal where you can note down your daily one card pulls the whole year round. It's very simple, no beating around the bush, just a straightforward way to record your daily journey with tarot. It's got 365 + 1 (in case of 29-day long February) structured pages as seen above.
Check the journal out!
Daily Card Pull Tarot tracker for 365 (+1) days
The link will lead you to Amazon.com. If you order through Amazon.de or Amazon.co.uk or any other of the variation, check the list of links below!
Amazon.co.uk
Amazon.de
Amazon.fr
Amazon.es
Amazon.it
Amazon.nl
Amazon.pl
Amazon.se
Amazon.jp
Amazon.ca
Amazon.com.au
@divinefeminine-card - I promised to let you know when the daily pull journal is out. I keep my promisses!
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Tarot Notebook, Tarot Journal, 120 pages, 6 inches x 9 inches
This is a 120 pages journal, smaller in size, even simpler for your notes regarding tarot readings. This was my first try. 😁
Check it out!
Tarot Notebook by Kleo
Again, you can find it available on all the Amazon variations of the site.
I'm not going to note them again here, if you need help finding the journal, just ask me, I have all the links. 😊
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Blank Recipe Book - Cookbook for Kitchen Witches, 121 Pages, A5 (5.8'' x 8.3'') format
One last item I have successfully published through Amazon KDP is a blank recipe cookbook for you to notedown all the kitchen witch recipes you can think of.
I'm personally an avid and enthusiastic cook and baker myself. I love to learn new recipes and amend them so they suit my taste better. However, I have one ugly habit - I don't cook by recipe and I never note down how exactly I have cooked or baked something. I follow my instincts and experience in the kitchen. Why is it an ugly habit? Because people naturally want to know how I did this or that when they like it and they ask me for a recipe and I'm like: 'Uhhh... *giving them a list of ingredients* and you kinda mix it together, you know... I don't follow recipes...' And leaves people frustrated... and confused...
Anyway! This is a nice notebook to start noting recipes down so when you are asked how exactly you baked that apple pie from blue glowing apples, you can show them the recipe in your kitchen witch notebook so they know what kind of poison is about to kill them in 5 minutes. LOL! Just joking... It usually takes about an hour to properly spread through the system... 😂
Cookbook for Kitchen Witches
Again, you can find it available on all the Amazon variations of the site.
I'm not going to note them again here, if you need help finding the journal, just ask me, I have all the links. 😊
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These are the three journals / notebooks I have published so far.
I hope at least one of you find any of them useful.
I'll probably order all of them myself, simply to check the quality so if you want, you can wait for them to be delivered to me so I can show you the actual real life photos.
Also!
Let me know if there's some other kind of journal you would love to see online but you weren't able to find one so far.
Tarot journal with affirmations? Some more spicy or kinky tarot journal? K-pop journal to note down the idol of the day or the song or MV of the day? I mean, the possibilities are truly endless and now when I know how to do this, I can literally make anything come true. Just like the unicorn I truly am in my heart. 🦄😂😂😂
Okay! Enough of my self-promotion!
Please check the journals out! Order if you like any of them! Be part of my dream coming true. 😊
Thank you all for staying around.
Kleo
#oracle kleo#tarot journal#tarot journey#tarot#tarotblr#tarot business#tarot cards#tarot notes#tarot blog#tarot beginner#tarot book#journaling#journal#notebook#kitchen witch#cooking#recipe#recipe book
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I am currently listening to "ELVIS: THE HOME RECORDINGS" (a collection of Elvis Presley's home recordings from the 1950s and 1960s) and I find incredible hearing him singing songs in that unprompted way, just having fun with friends and family, and then listen to the professional version he recorded years later.
Those are some of Elvis' personal favorites songs, folks. 🩷🥹
Here's some of them:
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"HANDS OFF" (or "KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF IT")
Home recording: Fall 1960, at Monovale Drive, Hollywood (one of Elvis' homes).
Studio recording: Elvis recorded this song again during a jam session at Nashville RCA's studio B in June 5th, 1970. The song was recorded in a version in conjunction with "Got My Mojo Working". The track was first release on the LP "Love Letters From Elvis" (1971).
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2. "INDESCRIBABLY BLUE"
Home recording: February 1966 at Rocca Place, Hollywood (another of Elvis' homes).
Studio recording: Elvis recorded this song professionally, not long after, in June 10, 1966. It was first released by RCA Records as a single on January 10, 1967, backed with "Fools Fall in Love". It was releases in a LP as part of the "Elvis' Gold Records Volume 4" (January, 1968).
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3. "AFTER LOVING YOU"
Home recording: Recorded around 1966. Can you listen to Elvis' voice here being pretty much the same in the 1969 version? His voice by 1966 was already so improved. It's weird how they kept Elvis from singing what he really wanted to sing in order to keep the soundtrack albums going on. I'm not complaining, per say, because I don't actually hate the soundtrack songs of his movies, but we know Elvis himself was pretty beaten having to record what he called "silly songs" over the ones he truly loved, like this one (as we can see by the way he sings the song wholeheartedly).
Studio recording: During the American Sound Studio's legendary recording session under Chips Moman production, Elvis recorded this song professionally in 18th Feb, 1969, in Memphis, Tennessee.
My personal favorite. ♥ My absolute favorite Elvis album is "From Elvis In Memphis", no doubt. Hearing the home recording version of "After Loving You" is just priceless to me.
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4. "WHAT NOW MY LOVE"
Home recording: Recorded sometime around 1966 too.
Again, Elvis literally was kept from singing many great songs for a long time because of his Hollywood movie contracts, not to speak about the RCA deals causing the songwriters disputes over rights and proper payment. Long story short, the songwriters did not want to give up 25% of the rights to the compositions to Hill and Range Publishings and the other Presley publishing companies that published his recording materials. So Elvis ended up with some (crappy) less powerful songs to record for many, many years. Some of the songs he truly wanted to record thanks Heaven were brought to day light. Elvis had a great taste in music. (I just wonder how many more amazing songs recorded by his powerful voice we would have today if it wasn't for the tricky record deals he was under.)
Live version: On January 14, 1973, Elvis Presley performed the song before a live audience of 1 billion people, as part of his satellite show, "Aloha from Hawaii", which was beamed to 43 countries via INTELSAT. Elvis' live rendition of the song is just breathtaking. You listen and see him performing it live and you just stop breathing. The song was first released on the live album "Aloha from Hawaii via Satellite" (February, 1973).
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#elvis presley#ELVIS MUSIC#elvis the king#The King of Rock and Roll#elvis forever#long live the king#50's music#60's music#70's music#elvis home recordings#elvis studio recordings#Youtube
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My year in books, 2023
2023 was a pretty good year as far as reading went. Was my lowest reading year for the past three years with the goal of finishing 40 books, and ending up finishing 45 (finished 50 last year), but that's okay. This happened to be a very good video gaming year, so reading took the backseat a bit. Watch me nerd out about my book stats below!
I like crunching some basic metrics around my reading each year, mixing some stuff from Goodreads, TheStoryGraph, and some of my own calculations. Let's start with the basics.
God The Priory of the Orange Tree was the first book I read last year, and it feels like forever ago. I really did try to get to the prequel this year, but it fell through the cracks!
Otessa Moshfegh has quickly become one of my favorite authors. I can't wait to read her entire backlog of works. And of course I stan Ann Leckie, I'll always read whatever she puts out. Was so thankful to get to read an advance copy of a short story collection she has coming out.
Man I read a lot of sci fi this year. Usually sci fi and fantasy are a bit more balanced, but I read some really good sci fi this year, so I was stuck on it. Notably, I didn't read any nonfiction, romance, or thrillers the whole year. I usually get a couple of those in.
My book ratings look pretty good for 2023, lots of 4 stars and few 2s and 3s. Standard disclaimer, I usually stop reading books that I really don't like, so I generally don't have many one-star reviews because I just stop reading them and I don't rate books that I don't finish.
This is interesting, because in previous years, I didn't really read any ebooks ever. What changed this year was that I got on Netgalley, a site where you can read advance copies of books to provide feedback to publishers before the books release, and they generally provide an ebook for you to read. Extra surprising that I read more that way than audiobooks, which have been on a slow decline given the fact that I don't do a ton of activities that can be paired with listening to a book these days.
I read at least one science fiction book for six months out of the year. Actually pretty surprised to see so much Historical Fiction on here as well as I don't really like that genre.
Damn, I sound like a broken record, but this makes it clear how much I really enjoyed science fiction 13 of the 16 sci fi books I read got a 4 or 5 star. Surprising to see that contemporary fiction got mainly middling ratings, that's generally my second favorite genre. I know I read a lot of fantasy, but I don't actually tend to love a lot of it lol. But this looks like a successful fantasy year as far as ratings go.
Man, 100-200 page books had it rough this year. This is interesting to me, I think the 300-400 range is my ideal, and while it had a similar number of 4/5 star ratings as the 400-500 range, it obviously had some duds in there too. But I'm surprised to see how much I seemed to enjoy the really long books, usually I start to get pretty bored at the 450 page mark.
This is one of my favorite graphs because it shows the months where I rush to finish short books so I can keep up with my reading goal of the year. July seems to be particularly egregious with reading 5 books but not even reading 1000 pages total. I always start the year with the long books...
This is a new metric for me, I decided to compare my rating of books with their average rating on goodreads to see how much I generally agreed/disagreed with the average. This was honestly probably not the best year to do this as I mentioned before, I read a lot of ARCs (advanced reader copies) meaning they have few to no ratings, so my ratings of them skewed the average quite a bit, throwing this whole thing into question (I didn't record number of ratings so I couldn't put in error bars, and I'm lazy and don't know stats that much). Anyway, in this graph, the size of the bubble indicates the number of books I read at that rating during the year, so you can see the 1 star bubble is small because I didn't read a ton of books I rated 1 star. This is such an interesting pattern though, my 1 star books aren't the lowest average, but they're pretty low, but my 5 star books are definitely the best. But the 2-4 star books are a bit all over the place. I'm interested to see how this will map over time when I throw in some of the previous years in
Anyway, that's all I have. I'm going to bump up my goal back to 50 this year, hopefully I can tackle it. I'm hoping to get involved in some book clubs as well, so I hope that'll keep me honest. I don't think people actually care about these posts, but keep an eye out for some more bookish posts soon as I dive into some of the notable reads of last year. To end, here's all of the books I read in 2023
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Oh, the Lure of Emily
I've been withdrawing.
Not for all that long, I don't think, but social media goes so fast, so that means letting a lot of opportunities to be "social" disappear into the ether. I shouldn't. I need to practice connecting with people and it used to be so much easier for me to do that on the internet, but I really hate just about everything about it now. It's hard to put what I mean into words fast enough, and it seems like that's hard for a lot of people, but we're doing it anyway. That's a lot of what I don't like interacting IRL, and it's here now. I haven't found a place that's not like that.
I entered into this level of interaction at the behest of a soulless corporation that doesn't care about any of us (clearly) and I'm being asked to pay more than I wanted to give (ex. curate an ever-lengthening feed of more people who want to be seen, help train AIs who'll render me and others invisible, accept a certain amount of increasingly heinous ideas with no pushback to be polite/for my own mental health/to keep my interaction from being nothing but that stuff), in return for much less than what I wanted to get. Mainly, it's so strangers can click a button that says they "like" something I did, and never interact with me, or any other aspect of me, ever again.
It's like that on my site, too, except I disabled the "like" and comment functions out of frustration. The interface became unsustainable and It's mainly bots using it. I've improved my ratio of "recorded clicks that were probably a human being" vs. "probably a webcrawler or spambot" for the privilege of seeing how few people are interested.
And social media isn't helping. I mean, why would it? It's getting all it wants out of me on spec, and it does not have to deliver visibility. It never did. That was always something I needed to "earn." It just seemed to be easier to do that in Web 1.0. I had a message board, once. It survived a move from one dying host to another (which, I think, is also dead now - everyone's on Discord) and I picked up enough people to write and have fun, with very few jerks I needed to ban, and no bots. Wow. If someone was being a total bastard, they were made of meat and I could yell at them and register an objection like a person. Does anyone out there remember that?
A big part of me wants to be a postmodern Emily Dickenson. You can have my work after I'm dead, if you want it. I'll "publish" by printing it out and putting it in a box. Even the fanfic stuff. Interacting with fandoms hardly seems worth it for me, they've got their own issues. And, as for social, you may have one garden party a year, and maybe I'll exchange emails with one guy who says "this stuff is good". We live small enough, and we're doing well enough, that I could probably hide and keep making art uncompensated. Unless something happened, and then I'd probably wind up on the street or in an institution of some kind. Not the nice kind.
And, as much as you [as in, anyone who trips over this] would protest the loss of me to my face - out of some feeling of human solidarity or philosophical devotion - were I to vanish, it wouldn't matter where. You'd get used to not seeing me. You'd read something else. Maybe I'd be happier, maybe I wouldn't, but that wouldn't involve you, so you'd move on.
That big, dumb jerk Nietzsche (who was, at least, made of meat) posited that Sisyphus must be happy, because he knows he's doing what he's supposed to and what's going to happen next, forever. But, really, the only thing you'd have to do is say to him, "Every time you put one iota of effort into pushing this rock, there's a small chance it'll take off and fly. If you're really doing your job, it will, it's just a matter of time!" And then it doesn't. Not just for his whole life, for eternity.
I'm not being punished for cheating death. I'm being punished for cheating corporations - not even cheating them all that much, I don't think, but it's enough. I don't look profitable, because that wasn't why I started pushing this rock. I wanted to make a difference. I'd like enough money to live and keep creating, and to pay some people to help me, but all that's just some boxes to tick on the way to making a difference. And I can't tick those boxes for a corporation or for myself.
The only thing that's gotten me attention is when someone bigger than me gives me a namecheck. I could just keep begging creators I love to do that, but a lot of people do that, and I don't think creators like it. They didn't ask for that responsibility. They don't have time to vet every person and see if their work is actually good or just AI generated garbage. Or delusional garbage from someone who thinks they can create, but can't, really. I'm losing the confidence to keep begging people to understand that I'm not delusional. Maybe I am, ya know? That would explain my situation too.
At least, if I kept it all to myself, I'd be dead when someone found my boxes and boxes of papers and chose an excerpt for their treatise on hypergraphia in freaky recluses.
Thoreau got it twisted. People make pretty baskets so someone will use them. If it has no use, it's neither a basket nor an art object. Someone has to pick it up and use it for it to be either of those things, and hopefully both. I use my baskets. I think other people could, but I know I use them. It would be a lot easier for me to do that if I didn't keep leaving them outside when I've finished weaving and hoping someone will pick them up.
But, I typed this into a window on Tumblr, so it's going outside with the rest. As will the others, for the time being. My words will probably be used to train an AI, and already have been. Yours too. Self-determination is reserved for the Emilies. I do want it, but...
Not enough to give up this painful hope that a rock might fly.
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No-Spoilers Review #8: The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All (Kininatteru Hito ga Otoko Jyanakatta)
Content Warnings: none!
A really long title, but this one's super viral and pretty new at the time of writing. The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All is a yuri manga published on Twitter by Arai Sumiko. It's about a girl who sees a handsome-looking guy at the records store and gets interested right away, and then it turns out that... wasn't a guy at all. (Who could have guessed!)
There's a big focus on their shared love of rock music, and I'm sure most English-speakers will recognize most of the names they talk about!
Is it good? Yes! The art is great and the bright green is super iconic, and the character writing is fun and sweet. For a good time with a good rom-com that keeps it short each chapter, this series is super great.
Mitsuki Koga (black hair) is a loner at school. She's not exactly shy, just introverted and quiet; She wants to go to school peacefully and not stand out. Outside of school, she works at her uncle's tiny music and records shop and grew up a huge fan of rock music.
Aya Oosawa (lighter hair) meanwhile is a stereotypical popular gyaru, or fashionable girl. She loves rock music, but it's a VERY rare hobby for a Japanese schoolgirl, especially such a trendy-looking one, so she's kept this interest to herself after getting disrespected for it before. (Major bands like Nirvana, Foo Fighters, and Aerosmith get name-dropped, if you happen to be a fan too!)
Mitsuki and Aya grow closer and bond over their shared interests with a lot of rom-com hi-jinks along the way, and it's just plain cute and fun! And the deception doesn't last forever, of course. Mitsuki's accidental handsome suaveness is both funny and nice to look at, while Aya's reactions are cute... That said, there's more to their relationship than just fluff! After all, Mitsuki's literally lying to Aya, you know? When it gets figured out...
Anyway, the supporting characters, Mitsuki's uncle and Narita, are also really likeable and fun, which some might not expect considering they're male characters in a yuri LOL. (It's fairly common nowadays, but that wasn't always the case.)
Final Thoughts:
There's about two volumes of content out right now, and the author releases about one 4-page chapter a week, give or take! Honestly I can't imagine anybody who wouldn't like this series. Like, genuinely. I know I say this a lot with the stuff I recommend, but I'm super serious this time. It's got great art, fun writing, and a deep earnestness.
There's no official English translation yet, but all of the chapters are posted publicly in Japanese right to Twitter.
#yuri review#the guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all#ki ni natteru hito ga otoko janakatta#comedy#romance#high recommendation
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Insatiable Pt. 3 - Rhys Montrose x Reader
Part 1 | Part 2
Meet the Eat the Rich killer.
It had been one week since you'd been exchanging texts with Rhys and six hours since you were so delusional from lack of sleep that you'd confessed to him that you hated how boring it was covering the nothingness of the aftermath of his friend's murder. Delusional was the only way to explain it. You had been beyond tired but unable to sleep and you were texting him anyway because you were always texting him and just this once, you'd let your guard slip and out of all the things you could've confessed, it was this.
The memory of the exchange came back to you a few minutes after waking up and you immediately regretted it. You opened the app but of course there was no history and no record of what you had said except a hazy recollection of saying too much. You remembered he had replied being supportive of your frustration with work even after you'd told him that. But you were certain you'd gone too far and had something to apologize for. For being insensitive, at the very least. Even if he hadn't opened up to you about how he felt about Simon's death, it didn't mean he wasn't still hurting.
And it had been just a little over a week since you were assigned to cover the investigation but the police had nothing and from what you could tell, there wouldn't be any more leads to come. All your other pitches for stories were being rejected. Just as you'd felt like you were finally getting a break, you were back to square one. Rhys had become the only one you texted so of course you'd ended up telling him that when you weren't thinking about it. But he was asking you about your work and why you sent him long messages when you should've been working and why you were trying to find anything else because you were so bored of work and before you knew it, you had told him everything there was to it.
You had to text him an apology. Instead of spending hours thinking of the right words to say, you just sent the first ones that you thought of.
I'm sorry if I said anything insensitive last night. I didn't mean to imply that writing about the investigation into Simon's murder is boring. I didn't want it to come out that way. I swear I'm not that much of a thoughtless jerk usually.
You did mean it and it's okay. You don't have to apologize for being honest.
You felt relieved he wasn't mad. If this was what had ruined whatever this relationship you had, you would've been very disappointed in yourself.
But it wouldn't have been Rhys if he'd left it at that.
I meant it when I said I want to know everything about you, even the parts you hide from the world.
How was it that he could flirt at the most inappropriate times? And why did you still like it?
Even the part that's thinking right now how inappropriate it is for you to be flirting right now?
I didn't take you to be someone who cared about what's proper.
I did take you to be someone who cared about what's proper, Mr. Good Man in a Cruel World.
My biggest regret in life is that I can't travel back in time and meet you before to ask for your opinion on the title before it was published so you couldn't keep teasing me about it.
I'm sure I could come up with other things to tease you about.
Smiling, you got dressed for work and headed in. You didn't text much during the day when you were both busy (you assumed he was too). Even though you weren't looking forward to calling up the police again because you knew their answer would be the same ("Our investigation is ongoing."). The other thing you had on your agenda today was looking into what was being planned for Simon's funeral, which you knew you would have to cover.
The office was quiet when you entered. You were there early as usual to enjoy the peace before it got busy. There was a box on your desk, it was mail addressed to you. You hadn't placed any orders recently to your work address and this didn't have any labels indicating where it was from.
Grabbing the pair of scissors, you opened it up. There was a piece of folded paper inside and another box. You opened the box - which had ice packs surrounding - was that a severed finger? Fuck. You dropped it on your desk and checked the note. Typed in the center of the page, in all caps, were two lines - "This is not a kidnapping…. This is a murder."
The next few hours was a flurry of activity. The police were called in and they took the box away, you went with them to give your statement, they took your fingerprints so they could check the box for prints that didn't match. They quickly identified the finger to belong to Malcolm Harding. You were already typing up the story from your phone and you worked on finishing it quickly once you got to the office. Others hovered around you, and you knew they were curious about the details, having heard from others who were in early and had seen it all happen. Everyone still gave you the distance you needed because getting the story out was always the priority.
Just after noon, you were done.
You hadn't checked your phone while you were working on your story, but now that you were done, you did and saw a text from him, from two hours ago.
Do you want to meet tonight at my place?
You'd be lying to yourself if you said no, but when he had texted, he didn't know that another one of his friends had been murdered. And now that it was out and you had published the story, you couldn't hold him up to an invitation under these circumstances. So, you didn't accept or decline.
Check The Herald.
By this time, your story was front and center on the website. You had called the person behind it Eat the Rich killer because you knew that name would catch on and everybody would be reporting it. But on the other hand, the Rich here weren't an abstract entity to you completely when you were talking to Rhys. And this was another of his friends, dead. You hoped he wouldn't ask you about it and assume an editor had named it, despite the story having your byline.
But regardless, now that he knew, maybe he'd rather be comforting Kate? You didn't know if they were that close. You also didn't want to decline just because you thought he should be doing something else. He was free to make his own decisions and even if you didn't want to admit it, if he still wanted to meet up, could it mean that whatever you had between you was actually serious? Could it mean that it wasn't just you who felt like Rhys was the one you wanted to go to when something happened in your life?
It took him a few minutes to write back.
I still want to see you, if you want to see me too.
But you still felt like you were monopolizing his time and stealing him away from his friends when you said yes.
You didn't think it was appropriate to wear bright colors but also black felt too much like a funeral in light of what had happened today. So you dressed in a dark, navy blue instead, and hoped it wasn't that big of a deal. Rhys had sent the address to his place but told you to take the entrance at the back, just in case there were paparazzi at the front, which you knew were guaranteed to be there after the news you had been the one to break. There was no way you wanted to be spotted with him too, unless it was in a strictly professional capacity. There were many reasons for you to not go to see him. But there was also one major reason why you did, which in your mind trumped all the others - he'd asked and you wanted to.
It wasn't that you'd forgotten how handsome he was, but it was still the first thing that you thought about when you saw him. And then, your curiosity kicked back in. Why did he want to meet you now? You searched his face for his signs for grief. Instead, you saw concern.
"Are you okay?"
Out of all the things you had thought he would say, that hadn't been one of them. "I should be asking you that."
"I wasn't the one who had a severed finger delivered to their office and had to write about it."
Oh. Oh. Is that what this was? He was worried about you? You couldn't believe that anyone could be that nice. But he also hadn't given you a reason not to except for your enduring skepticality about people being good.
"But wasn't Malcom your friend? It couldn't have been easy, especially after what happened with Simon." Which Rhys also hadn't seen too torn up about. But you still didn't know him well enough to know how much of that was actually not caring and how much of that was just bottling up emotions.
"I've known that bunch for years. They were the ones who were with me after my father claimed me as his heir, so to say. The people I knew before shunned me, unless it was to ask for money." He chuckled. "You know this, of course. I made everyone a part of my therapy through that book. I didn't write about them though, because I did think of them as friends. I do see them as humans, with all their beauty and their flaws, but also, I couldn't help but see how their flaws didn't come with the same consequences as they would have if they didn't have the wealth that was handed to them. But who am I talk?"
"You didn't have them when you were growing up. I'd like to believe that makes a difference."
He smiled. "I would like to believe that too. Would you like a drink?"
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Creative Intentions for 2024 from Shri - 02/Feb/2024
Hi Archie! Yesss returning to the humble sketchbook is always such a joy! Especially when working through an artistic or personal problem.
I totally agree with the anatomy thing you mentioned, it’s so boring (and unrealistic) to learn something in one sitting, so implementing it slowly when you can, is great!
I actually don’t work on anatomy unless I find I’m struggling with a specific bit in my final work e.g. I'm drawing someone and their hips don't look right, I’ll go and do some quick studies on it to solve that problem. I'm not sure if this is the right way to do it but it's how I do it and it works for me.
Definitely a bit existential for the first post but it's always good to keep a critical mind about your practice, always checking in with it. Because if you know why you do things, you can do it with more intention than before. In both your creative practice as a whole and your whole person-nes. Knowing why you do things is so important.
Quick update on my endeavours
I’ve got a few projects on the go at the moment,
A short 8-page comic for a publishers
T-shirt for a friend’s t-shirt design
Plymouth Comic and Zine Fair which is around the corner (which I still need to prep for *sweats profusely*)
Continuing on my comic Again.
I’ve just finished a project for my sibling's friends making ten emoticon reactions for their YouTube channel (it’s a League of Legends channel). I’ve put a few below of my favourites. :)
What I did well in this project was - The nose, God I love drawing noses so much! The hands a looking pretty good too.
What I can do better for next time - Do a few more studies on the person I’m drawing and really look at how I can translate their unique features into my simplified style; diversifying my characters and drawing.
Anyway to the actual post, I thought my first actual post could be about the intention I want to set for my artistic practice this coming year. With a small overview of last year in terms of my creative practice
Overview last year
Last year was basically my first year out of uni (out of education completely *gasp*) which was a huge adjustment and it took me a long time to pick myself up from the post-uni sad boi hours.
Once I got back on my creative feet I jumped straight into my projects intending to fill the gap in my portfolio and update it, as well as making dummy books/pitches.
I managed to complete one dummy book, made one self-published picture book and go to Thought Bubble!!! With a few single illustrations, testing single image storytelling.
I had a gap between July and November, where I was working on two big projects, which is great but it would be a lot better to stagger work a bit more effectively, making sure I have only one big project while working on smaller ones to keep work flowing smoother.
This year I’d like to:
Complete the first volume of Again comic
Death is relative pitch set-up and ready for pitching
Complete my cover project (finish the last two covers)
Be a bit more confident in graphic design
Start the habit of sketching in life more
Learn a bit more about how to use a Carma
Doing small ‘final’ illustrations for socials and experimentation.
Be a bit more confident in graphic design
I want to be a bit more confident in graphic design within my illustration. This has been on my to-do list for years! So this year I’ll actually give it a go this year!
Start the habit of sketching in life more
I would like to do more life drawing in my day-to-day life. This is to record the smaller moments in my day-to-day life both for inspiration/ideas and practice/learning. So I'll start keeping a sketchbook in my pocket more often so when I commute to and from my day job or go about my day I can visually record more of these small moments.
Learn a bit more about how to use a Camera
I want to set myself this year is be a bit more confident around a camera. This had less to do with illustration but more my overall practice. But for so many years I've been hopeless with cameras all my life. So I finally want to be able to practically use a camera for both product photos and adding to my overall creative practice
Doing small ‘final’ illustrations for socials and experimentation.
This last one is something I’ve only briefly thought about, and it's come mostly from the fact that working in publishing you work on such long turnarounds, so to keep things fresh and creative I thought it might be fun to do some really small 'final' illustration more often. in the past, it's these sorts of things that are the original inspiration for my books and other projects. :)
And finally, I mention this in my recent endeavours but I’d love to continue improving in capturing subtle fetchers in my characters, as for a long time I had a terrible case of same-face syndrome. I’m a bit better nowadays but I still want to develop things like face shapes, eye shapes and placements because using only different skin tones in characters is not really diversifying anything.
Lats notes is the one thing I have in the last year fallen head-over-hills for is NOSES! God, I love drawing all the different kinds of noses, At the moment my favs are the Roman Nose, the straight-down nose and the Hooked Nose.
Anyway, that's it for me for this week, hope you all have a lovely week and a good dinner!
#art#smileyshri#illustrator#illustration blog#art on tumblr#artist blog#comic artist#art blog#illustration#artists on tumblr#2024 goals#queer artist
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