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themadearl · 4 years ago

Note

A twist on the valentines post:

Yuu travels over the Royal sword to give giri-Choco to the students but they took it seriously and now Yuu is in a princess-styled wedding dress and is about to be married off to the nearest princely student

As I write the headcannons for this ask, I’m reminded of the ghost marriage event hahaha. Just that Yuu won’t die the moment the wedding is officiated. Only internally.

Speaking of Princess styled wedding dress, I did see a video of wedding dresses inspired by disney princesses + characters such as minne and daisy. I envision Yuu’s dress to be like the ones in the video, but feel free to choose one you like best. Researching for written work like these is no joke

Edit after writing everything: God its long, maybe I’ll write an extra about what happens when she reaches NRC, but right now, Yuu has at least escaped the clutches of RSA.

Link to Video of Wedding Dresses [Part 1] [Part 2]

________________________________________________________

Yuu is too good for her own good and so she must suffer for her kindness

Who would’ve thought that the RSA students was so pure?

The gift Yuu got for giving out free chocolate was a tournament where she gets to marry the winner

yay

But Yuu’s not one to give up and since she can’t escape, she finds a way to get Grim free so he can go call for backup

Reaching with Grim at the NRC is news of RSA’s Tournament where the winner gets Yuu’s hand in marriage !!!

In disney style, the messengers are all forest animals lolol

An emergency dorm leader meeting is held on how to save Yuu

“Can’t we just sneak her out?”

“I highly doubt security is that loose.”

“How about we enter the tournament?”

“You sure you can win against RSA on Princeliness?”

“. . . . can’t we just marry her off?”

“No. Just no, Idia-senpai.”

“You guys didn’t seem to have a problem marrying me off back then.”

fight fight fight

Seeing as the meeting is going no where, Crowley decides that they will be splitting into two teams with different objectives

One will try to find where Yuu is and try and get her back to NRC

The other team will act as a decoy to attract the attention and as a backup plan, win the competition

Team Stealth: Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater, Jack, Ruggie, Rook, Lilia, Silver

Team Prince: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Floyd, Jade, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Epel, Malleus, Sebek

Idia is providing support via ipad along with Ortho

Commencing Operation Saving the Princess

Team Prince arrives on carriages wearing princely outfits, making a grand entrance as the other team sneaks in

The fact that there are visitors for the tournament makes it easier for Team Stealth

On the otherside, Yuu has been pampered from head to toe

Had multiple baths with who knows what flowers and oils so Yuu smells like a bouquet

Has on a dress that looks super expensive and she’s worried about damaging it cause she poor

Matching shoes with some heel that makes it hard to run but not uncomfortable to walk

Her short hair has been enchanted to grow into long hair with the appropriate hairdo

Simple earrings and a matching necklace is a check

Most importantly, a shining tiara with a veil and a bouquet to match

Yuu almost couldn’t recognize herself in the mirror

The only joy Yuu gets will be seeing the awe-struck face of the NRC students

Assuming they do come and get her

Pray that her relationship with others isn’t as bad as Idia

With students outside the door and being on the 10th floor, Yuu isn’t going to take her chances

So she plays the princess waiting for her prince

Man she really hopes they do save her

The tournament starts off with a deafening applause as visitors and students alike watches the clash between NRC and RSA

The students compete in activates such as signing, swordsmanship, horse riding, basically all the princely activities

Only Vil and surprisingly Leona, makes it into the final round

It is also only then that the other team has spotted Yuu on her fair tower

Much thanks to Lilia and Jack for pinpointing Yuu’s location

Cater and Trey lures the guards in front of Yuu’s room with Deuce and Jack making sure they don’t get up for another hour or two

Rook picks the lock and voila, princess Yuu in all her glory

“Took you guys long enough.”

Ace can feel a blush creeping up his face but he holds it in

Deuce can’t look at Yuu in the eye at all

Trey & Cater compliments Yuu which she gladly accepts

But before they can say anymore, they hear the sounds of students rushing up

And everyone scrambles to run downstairs, Yuu who is in heels is steadily getting slower and slower then everyone else

Jack who notices it immediately carries her into a princess carry and runs off

As the one that carries Yuu, Jack becomes the main target so he passes her off to Silver

Hence starts a game of passing the princess, Yuu has already given up and just tries to not fall off

The commotion reaches the peak as they pass the stage where the tournament is held

Team Prince sees that Yuu has already been secured and makes a bee line to the entrance

RSA students follow closely behind trying to stop them and reclaim their princess

Another pass from Ruggie to Leona and Yuu is fighting the urge to throw up

“Don’t be throwing up on me now, princess~”

The carriage is already waiting at the entrance with some other students guarding the carriage from the RSA students

Floyd joins in the fun by snatching Yuu away from Leona

“Shrimpy sure is pretty~ Why don’t you marry me instead?”

“That’s illegal right? Since we’re not of age?”

The answer to Yuu’s question is two identical smiles as Jade pops up next to her

Yuu: I’m scared

Malleus takes the final baton and steals Yuu away and gets in the carriage

Yuu looks out and sees that most RSA students aren’t catching up anymore so she can finally relax and leans into the seats

~Mission Complete~

The moral of the story is: Never give chocolates to anyone.

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thebluemartini · 4 years ago

Text

Battle Scars [Nessian Fic]

A/N: Well, A Court of a Silver Flames is just a little over a week away, so I might as well post one final little Nessian fic before its release! So back in November, @hereforthemoment wrote the following post:

Nesta and Cassian are sparring, right? And Cassian ends up on top of her with a dagger to her throat but at the last moment Nesta aims her dagger at his heart.

He says, “you’d be dead”

But she chuckles and says, “then I guess we’d go together”

Then they both become very serious and look into each other’s eyes until Nesta pushes him off of her and leaves the ring

I asked for permission to write a fic with this scene, and voila! I finally finished it! So here goes! (Thank you @hereforthemoment!!)

TITLE: Battle Scars

FANDOM: A Court of Thorns and Roses

SETTING: Post-ACOFAS.

CHARACTERS: Nesta and Cassian

RATING: SFW

GENRE: Angst/Romance/Drama

SYNOPSIS: Nesta and Cassian finally address the war and its aftermath.

*You can also read this on AO3 or FF

________________________________________________________________

“Train with me, Nesta.”

She did not need to peel her eyes away from her dagger to discover who was talking to her. The low timbre of his voice was familiar to her—and one she heard nearly everyday.

“That sounds like an order,” she answered coolly from where she sat on a log and continued to sharpen her dagger against the stone in her hand. “You are well aware that I’m not very fond of being told what to do,” she added in a casual tone.

“My sincerest apologies,” he replied. Nesta kept her eyes down, but she could tell he must’ve been smiling to himself. These days, he always grinned whenever she spoke civilly to him...a vast difference from how they conversed with each other the first few months of her living in the Illyrian Mountains. Those conversations were more like verbal sparring matches. But now, several months later, the two of them were more like...friends.

“What I meant to say was...would you do me the honor of dueling against me?”

Letting the stone in her hand plop onto the snowy ground, she sheathed her dagger and finally looked up to see Cassian standing beside her. His hair was pulled back, allowing her to look directly into his eyes.

The way he stared at her was...unnerving, and the way he treated her in recent weeks was equally unsettling. That fool actually had the audacity to make comments that would cause her lips to curve upwards into a smile. And he’d done things for her — like make her pancakes and retrieve new books for her — that made her feel like something was fluttering around in her stomach.

She had to shift her gaze. “You haven’t asked me to train with you before, General. Why now?” she asked, while suddenly finding the lacings along her sleeve to be quite fascinating.

“Well, before, I feared you might actually end up killing me in a duel.”

“What makes you so sure I won’t try to kill you now?”

“I have reason to believe you rather enjoy this pretty face of mine.”

Nesta’s eyebrow rose in confusion as she stood up to face him. “Whatever gave you such delusions?”

“I seem to recall you looking quite concerned when Merida scraped my cheek during training last week.”

“That’s because I wanted to have the pleasure of marking you myself,” she assured him as she crossed her arms against her chest. The scratch left by the Illyrian female who accidentally struck her dagger against his face was still there.

“I can think of a few more interesting ways you could do that without weapons, sweetheart,” he remarked with a smug grin as he allowed his gaze to drop to her lips.

Nesta glared at him. “Are you sure you want to spar with me right now? The urge to murder you is definitely present.”

Cassian smirked. “Well, I’m not the type to back down from a challenge I’ve already made. Let’s go to the ring.”

________________________________________________________________

In Nesta’s mind, every duel she engaged in was a story. Many of her fights with Illyrian females told tales of wild beasts that had been tied down for far too long that had now finally been able to roam free, progressing from rigid stances to more fluid movements within the span of the duel.

Her current fight with Cassian told its own story—one that seemed to echo her and Cassian’s relationship since she moved here to the Illyrian Mountains. At first, his movements were slow and hesitant as he began circling around her, trying to gauge exactly what kind of fighter he was facing, while her own slashing motions at him were rapid. But he was quick to defend himself against her, blocking her dagger with his own. For a moment, her persistence seemed to frustrate him, causing him to finally attempt to strike back at her. Then their arms tired, and they spent less time sparring and more time analyzing the other as they circled each other.

“You’ve grown stronger,” Cassian noted as he continued staring at her.

“Are you surprised?” she asked, staring right back and noticing how the snowflakes fell on his eyelashes.

“No,” he calmly replied. “I’m proud of you.”

At the sight of her raised, quizzical brow, he continued, “You’ve overcome so much. It’s inspiring.”

She would’ve raised her brow even higher if she was capable. To hear him say such a thing was...shocking. Alarming. Unsettling. Maybe even infuriating? But maybe she even felt a sense of pride, too...

“But you still have much to learn,” Cassian said with a strained breath and in a swift motion, he suddenly tackled her to the ground.

Laying atop her body, Cassian pressed the tip of his dagger against her throat, careful not to nick her skin.

“You’d be dead right now,” he muttered.

But at that moment, he felt the tip of Nesta’s dagger pressing against his chest, right over his heart. Nesta let out a low chuckle. “Then I guess we’d go together.”

Cassian’s eyes quickly met hers, and her laughter faded. Silence fell between them—only the sounds of their ragged breathing could be heard as they looked at each other.

Suddenly, with a shove, Nesta winced as she pushed Cassian off of her. Getting up, she sprinted out of the ring, leaving behind her dagger on the ground.

“Nesta!” Cassian called out. “Nesta, wait!” In a quick movement, he stood up and charged after her as his own dagger tumbled to the ground.

Determined, Nesta trudged her way through the snow with her arms folded across her body. The gusts of cold wind blowing against her face did not deter her. In fact, the biting cold helped distract her from thinking about the last time she almost died with Cassian.

“Nesta!” Cassian called from behind her. She wasn’t walking fast enough. “Nesta, please. We need to talk.”

“About what?” she shouted back, unable to resist the urge to yell at him and release her pent-up anger. Of course, she had an idea about what he possibly would want to talk to her about, but she’d been wrong about that before. Back after the King of Hybern was dead and the war was over, she thought he’d seek her out and address what he said to her on the battlefield. But that never happened.

“Us, the war...everything!” he replied. His voice was louder now.

Inside, Nesta was seething and couldn’t help herself from bursting now. She abruptly halted and whipped around to face Cassian as he approached, catching him by surprise.

“You’ve had months—years, actually—to talk!” she exclaimed. “Why even bother at this point?”

“Because...I’ve been such an idiot–”

“No argument there,” Nesta grumpily interjected as she crossed her arms against her chest.

Cassian paused and took a few heavy breaths as he looked at her. “And we need to talk about it in order to move forward. Because I love–”

“I need to go,” she interrupted him as she shook her head in disbelief at the words he was possibly about to utter. She turned around to resume her journey back to her cabin.

“Nesta, this is coming out all wrong. Can we please just talk?” he asked as followed her and reached out to grab her hand in an attempt to make her stop.

Instead, she furiously swatted his hand away, not noticing the patch of ice on the ground as she did so. She slipped, sending her sprawling to the ground, and let out a small yelp in the process as the sharp pain surged through her ankle.

“Nesta!” Cassian was instantly beside her, crouching down to help her sit up. “Nesta, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

“My ankle is twisted,” Nesta answered gruffly through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to bark her head off at him. “Leave it alone,” she ordered when Cassian placed his hand against her boot as if he were going to slide it off.

“We should wrap your ankle with some snow,” he explained.

“I will do it,” Nesta insisted with a frown, as she averted her eyes from Cassian. “Just leave me be and go on your way.”

Confusion covered Cassian’s face. “Nesta, I’m not leaving you out here to suffer alone.”

“Why not? It’s what you’re good at.” Nesta spat back as she remained focused on pulling off her boot.

Cassian froze as her words punctured his heart. Silence passed between them while Nesta inspected her ankle. Cassian then reached for the small pouch belted at his waist, pulling out a gray lace cloth that was adorned with various Illyrian symbols.

“I’d like to change my ways,” Cassian spoke faintly. “And become a man worthy of you…if you will let me.”

He grabbed a handful of snow and wrapped it within the cloth, then held out his makeshift ice pack, waiting for Nesta’s permission to place it around her ankle. She peered over at it, curious as to how and why he would have a cloth like that with him.

“This cloth belonged to my mother,” Cassian said upon noticing her staring. “I like to have it with me, especially in battle.”

Nesta’s frown disappeared and switched to a look of slight concern. “Why would you want to use that to wrap my ankle?” she asked in a softened voice.

“It’s all I have with me,” he replied. “And I am willing to give you all that I have,” he said with a meaningful look. “If you will allow me,” he added.

Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, Nesta returned to inspecting her ankle. “Be gentle,” she instructed, granting him permission and not daring to say more out of fear of what Cassian was possibly implying.

Cassian proceeded to gingerly wrap the cloth and snow around her swelling ankle, tying it so it was secure. “In the weeks when I was laying in bed, recovering from my injuries after the war…” he began hesitantly. “Every time I awoke, I always hoped you would be there when I opened my eyes.”

Nesta’s breath hitched upon hearing Cassian speak of the war, but she did not stop him from speaking.

“But you never came,” he continued calmly, as he delicately slid her boot back onto her foot and began tying the laces. “And I was left feeling angry, bitter, and sad. I thought...after the way you shielded my body with my own, after our...after our kiss, that it would’ve meant something to you. That you would want to check on me and make sure I was all right and talk to me. But when you never showed, I assumed you wanted nothing to do with a low-born bastard like me. That everything between us meant nothing to you.”

Nesta absorbed every word he said as she watched his hands. But she allowed the sounds of the whistling wind to fill the silence instead of responding.

“I can carry you back to the cabin, if you want,” he suggested as he stood up off the ground.

Even when it came to the smallest things, Nesta hated not being the one in control. But with her ankle throbbing in pain and a long trek back to the cabin before her, it appeared she was left with no choice but to accept Cassian’s help.

Yet, there was something endearing about his offer. He didn’t ask her if he could fly her back, which would be much faster than carrying her by foot. But he knew how much she detested flying and how sick it made her feel.

It wasn’t the first time he’d recognized how she’d been feeling. As of late, he definitely had taken notice of certain things about her...like never starting a fire within the cabin because he realized its crackling sounds distressed her, always fully cooking the meat in her meals so it’s red juice wouldn’t remind her of bloodshed, and preparing a cup of tea for her each evening knowing it helped her sleep well each night. He even started remembering the little details about her, like how she prefers honey in her tea over sugar.

Nesta gave a stiff nod.

Cassian instantly knelt down to lift her up in both of his arms, careful not to jostle her ankle too much.

As he began the trek to the cabin, Nesta turned her face toward his. While he had been learning more about her these past few months, there were still some things he did not yet understand. And there were things about him that she’d been wanting to understand.

Feeling her gaze, he looked back at her.

She took a deep breath. “In the weeks after the war, I was drowning,” she recalled calmly. “I was struggling to deal with all that happened in the war, from fighting the king to dealing with my father’s death to coming to terms with my powers.” Her voice fell into a whisper. “Do you think I was ready to deal with...whatever I may have felt for you at the time on top of that? Do you think I would’ve wanted to visit you and see firsthand the after-effects of a war that I was already having nightmares about each night?”

With a somber look darkening his face — an expression that Nesta wasn’t sure she’d ever seen grace his face before — Cassian stopped.

Squeezing her more tightly in his arms, he raised her a little higher so he could bring his face closer to hers. “I’m so sorry, Nesta,” he said. “I’ve...failed you so many times. I chose to be bitter. I was hurt that you appeared to despise me while I was in love with you.”

While she could sense his apology was genuine, there was still more she needed to know and comprehend. And more that he needed to realize. “You promised more time with me out on the battlefield, then abandoned me. Then, you agreed to send me away to live here in the mountains against my will. Is that love to you?” she wondered sadly. “You told me that you didn’t understand how my sisters could love me. Would you call that love, too?”

A tear shone in Cassian’s eye as he shook his head vigorously. “No, absolutely not,” he insisted. “I realize how wrong I’ve been. I’m so sorry I gave into my pain and tried to hurt you the way I felt you had hurt me. I hope, in time, you can forgive me.”

Nesta found she couldn’t reply. Not just yet. She’d been wrestling with thoughts of how he treated her in the past, compared to the way he’d made her feel as of late.

Cassian soon resumed walking, striding through the snow with determined steps and an intense, serious facial expression.

The rest of the journey to the cabin was quiet, but once Cassian stepped upon the porch outside the front door, Nesta held up the palm of her hand and rested it upon his chest, catching his attention. “Cassian, I want to forgive you,” she confessed softly. “But I… I need to see that I can trust you.”

Cassian nodded, turning his head down. “I understand,” he said. “You don’t know how much I wish we could start over. That we could go back to the end of the war, so I could be there for you afterwards,” he stated wistfully.

Nesta moved her hand up to his cheek, capturing his gaze again. “Then, let’s start over.”

“What?” he asked, puzzled.

“Begin again by making me a promise, and prove to me that you can keep it this time,” she proposed.

Cassian took a deep breath before tilting his head down and staring deep into her steel eyes. “My only regrets in this life are the ways I’ve failed you and how I’ve wasted time that could’ve been spent better with you, Nesta. We will have that time now. I promise.”

He tightened his grasp on her, and to his astonishment, she lifted her head up and planted a sweet, brief kiss upon his lips.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against his. “It just felt like something was missing after such a promise,” she admitted with a slight grin playing at her lips. Cassian let out a low chuckle.

“Don’t screw up this time,” she added in a whisper.

“There’s no way I’m losing you this time, sweetheart.”

________________________________________________________________

A/N: In writing this, I realized that I wished there were more synonyms for “stare” because I am ALL ABOUT intense gazes between Nesta and Cassian! So apologies for the overuse of the word.

Anyway, I hope you liked it! I was pretty determined to include a Nessian kiss in here, but obviously those two still have a lot to heal through here...more than a oneshot allows :) so thank goodness ACOSF is almost here to do that for us! I had hoped to finish this fic weeks ago so there was a good chunk of time before the release but here we are. (While I am DYING for this book, I do feel a tinge of sadness over the fact that most of my Nessian fics will no longer be canon-compliant! XD)

Thank you for reading and thanks again @hereforthemoment for the fic inspiration!

#a court of silver flames #nesta archeron #nessian #nesta #cassian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #post-acofas #nessian fanfiction #fanfiction

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your-so · 3 years ago

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Any advice for people looking to join the YB writing gang? I’ve been considering making another account on here for it, but I’m inexperienced with this sort of thing and would like some advice on that if it’s okay with you

Hi!! Thank you for the ask! I'm sorry I took so long to respond, the last two weeks were finals.

I'm not an expert, but I can try to help! I have had a writing blog once before for a different fandom.

:read more:

I started out by posting things I had already written on whim. I sometimes get struck with a good idea, and I write it down (notes app on my phone) before I forget about it. Then, when I have time, I expand on the idea and edit it a bunch it before posting it.

It helps a lot to make a list of plot points, so you know where you're going in your writing. If you want to be canon compliant or more consistent, definitely make a character file of everyone to keep on hand and refer back to.

There are lists of writing prompts on Tumblr that you can read through to find inspiration, and there are also websites for that.

I recommend writing and editing on Google Docs, it saves your work as you write it and it's more user friendly than Tumblr's post option.

Once you like your fic, copy and paste it into a new post. You may need to re-format a bit. If you save as draft you can look and see at how your post will look when posted, or you can save it for later. You also have an option of "queue" ing the post, where you can set a specific date and time for it to post.

I would recommend posting your work on ArchiveOfOurOwn (AO3) as well, so more people can enjoy it!

Once you have posted your writing, you may want to make a masterlist. To do that, copy the link for a post (three dots at top right), go to your Masterlist post (save in drafts or have it open in another tab), type the title of the fic, highlight it, click the link button, paste the link, and voila! Repeat the process for each post. I recommend you include a quick summary of the fic, at well as clarifying what genre it is (fluff, angst, smut). You also have the option of pinning your Masterlist at the top of your blog in the three dots.

This is the link button btw

Last thing, hashtags (#). You need tags if you want anyone to find your post. Fun fact: the first 5 tags you use are the ones your post can be searched and found by. The rest of the tags apply for the filtering function. For Your Boyfriend, I would first tag "your boyfriend game" "your boyfriend (character name)". You can look around the fandom and see which tags are most popular!

If you want more tips or have questions, feel free to dm me or send another ask!

Tag me if you start the blog, please! Good luck!!

#writing blog #your boyfriend fandom #writing tips

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pettyprocrastination · 4 years ago

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okay this drawing is literal ass but i was going through your shortcake tag and inspiration struck me to do something with frankie, shortcake (who i based off the lady in your tag) and reader... so voila! here is my creation as a tribute to your talent and my love of your writing <3 i kind of saw this as them all relieved and in love after getting reader out of the "date other people to move on" phase

i need to let you know how happt this made me!!!! I love it AAAAAA!!!!! Shortcake looks so cute and frankie has the shaggy curls oh my HEART THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS I NEEDED THE BOOST!!! YES this is absolutely all three of yall when you finally confess your feelings and youre happy and loved and comfortable with them all.

Thank you so much for this it means the world to me!!!

#i had a shit morning and this made my day!!!#art rec #shortcake tag #asks #AAAAAA LOOOK AT THIS GUYS #I LOVE #A A A AAA #why my followers so amazing oml #smooch for you

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the1918 · 4 years ago

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idk if it's something you've experienced, but I was wondering if you had any advice on how to get over feeling like I'll never be as good as other writers. I'm okay, I'm not great, and sometimes reading really good fics and books makes me want to get better! and do it more! but most of the time I get really discouraged because how will I ever put words together like that, you know? idk. anyway thanks for reading this, hope your day is swell

What you’re feeling is a 100% universal experience for all writers. It’s tough. It can feel disheartening at times. There are some writers and artists that will tell you to not focus on what other people are doing and writing, to look inward at yourself only and to write your truth and blah blah blah. In my opinion, that’s bullshit.

Anon, you’re stopping one step short of success when you look at other works and get discouraged about your own. Steal from those works until your own product is something you’re proud of!

“Wait-- what? What does she mean by ‘steal’? That’s plagiarism!” -- No.

“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent.” - Jim Jarmusch

As a writer, I write what I want to read and what I like to read. There is not a single thing I can do (plot-wise, character-wise, prose-wise) that will be truly original. What I CAN do is steal the ideas of other authors and bunch them together until I come up with something that’s uniquely my own.

If it still sounds like I’m telling you to rip off other works, keep reading. Let’s work through an example in an actual fic I’m writing.

My biggest struggle is that my writing and language is repetitive, most days. I use the same words and the same sentence structure over and over when left to my own devices. I don’t like that about my first-draft writing. So what do I do to overcome that? I steal the ideas of others and patchwork my stolen goods until I have something I like that is mine and mine alone.

Here is the first draft of a short paragraph from Bespoke. This draft was written solely to get action down on paper:

Steve pushed his forearms under Bucky’s knees, and he lifted his legs and body off the bed in an almost gratuitous display of super soldier strength. He pulled the legs back tightly, and Bucky was left bent in half with his back pressed into Steve’s front.

Now I go back and re-read it, and I identify things I don’t like.

First, I’ve used the same compound sentence structure twice in a row. I know I want to try and avoid this because the tempo will become repetitive to the reader (I’m trying to write prose, not poetry.) So what do I do? I open up my copy of Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451...

“Once the bomb release was yanked, it was over. Now, a full three seconds, all of the time in history, before the bombs struck, the enemy ships themselves were gone half around the visible world, like bullets in which a savage islander might not believe because they were invisible.”

... and I start by stealing his syntax (second draft):

Steve pushed his forearms under Bucky’s knees, pulling them apart. With an almost gratuitous display of power, of super-soldier strength, Steve lifted him off the bed, pulling Bucky’s thighs back, stopping when Bucky was bent in half with his back pressed into Steve’s front.

I like that a lot better but there’s too many commas for my taste. I look to one of my many browser tabs, where I happen to have The Sex Therapist by @whendoestheshipsail open on Ao3 (a syntactical masterpiece). I read one paragraph and am immediately reminded of the power of short, stabbing sentences. So I steal that idea and add variety (third draft):

Steve pushed his forearms under Bucky’s knees, pulling them apart. With an almost gratuitous display of power, of super-soldier strength, Steve lifted Bucky off the bed and pulled his thighs back. He stopped when Bucky was bent in half. His back was pressed into Steve’s front.

Almost there! I’m feeling that my diction is repetitive and boring, and maybe a little cold. Good thing I was reading some older works by @howdoyousleep3 earlier, who is the Queen of writing closecloseclose smut, so I’m feeling inspired to add/change things to communicate the intimacy of the position (final draft):

Steve roughly pushed his forearms under Bucky’s knees, pulling them apart. With an almost gratuitous display of power, of super-soldier strength, Steve lifted Bucky off the bed and held his thighs back tight. He stopped when Bucky was bent in half. His back was plastered to Steve’s sweaty chest.

And voila-- I start with something I don’t love and-- after creative thievery of three separate writers-- I end up with something that I like and that feels authentic to my story and my writing style. I don’t feel like someone other than me could have written this. Along the way, I have left love and comments on the fanfics that inspired me, and have let those authors know many times over how much I love their work. Art inspires art; let it.

#writing

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parischangedher · 5 years ago

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No regrets (It’s all about family): Chapter 1

I figured there was no better time to post this than right after the new promo...so, voila: The first of several holiday-inspired, purely fluffy fics can be found below! Thanks to @coffeedepablo for the inspiration.

Prompt: Tali trying to find where her parents hid her gifts for christmas

AO3 / FF

Ziva’s eyes flew open at the sound of a door creak.

Since she returned a week ago, her panic attacks reduced considerably. But, to her surprise, the instincts and reflexes she always relied upon only increased--now that she finally had what she could not bear to lose again.

She lifted her head to listen closer with unparalleled focus, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Taking calming breaths, she laid her hand over Tony’s strong one, which was wrapped securely around her waist. He was grounding: Amid all the uncertainty, danger and achingly lonely nights, he was the only one who kept her sane.

Seconds later, when she heard something clatter to the ground, she turned quickly and gently shook him awake.

“Tony,” she whispered urgently, bringing her hand to his face. “Wake up.”

He groaned, tightening his grip and burying his face in her hair.

“Tony!” she said again, anxiety rising as she broke free of him and rose, pulling on his old t-shirt and grabbing her weapon.

Registering the loss and sharp tone, Tony got up immediately. “What happened?” he asked, copying her movements.

“I heard something.”

They fell into their old pattern as naturally as ever, assessing the situation and nudging the door open without making a sound.

Passing Tali’s empty room, they saw the door ajar and bed unmade. Fear struck them both as they made their way to the kitchen.

Tony stood directly behind Ziva as they peeked around the corner to see a five-year-old intruder.

Adorned with her mother’s old NCIS jacket that reached the back of her knees and her father’s old hat, Tali paced around the room in deep concentration. Her fingers swam in a pair of large plastic gloves she dug out of the kitchen drawer.

“Where are you?” she asked aloud, hands on her hips and brow furrowed in striking resemblance to her mother. “I’m an agent, and a ninja, you can’t hide. Give up. Now!”

Ziva covered her mouth to stifle her laughter, meeting her partner’s eyes with a gleam. Tony grinned and pulled out his phone so he could memorialize the moment.

After looking through all of the cabinets with no success, Tali sighed to herself and pulled off her gloves, throwing them angrily on the ground.

“Like mother, like daughter,” Tony whispered.

Ziva turned to face Tony with a smirk on her face. “Me? No, no. Sneaking, looking for presents early? That has DiNozzo written all over it.”

“You’re telling me that you never snuck around to find where your parents hid your Hanukkah presents?” he accused.

“Oh, I did,” she admitted. “But I never got caught.”

Tony smiled sheepishly and nodded toward their daughter. Taking his cue, Ziva followed him into the kitchen.

“Hold it right there,” Tali demanded. “This is a crime scene.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tony answered, raising his arms in surrender. Ziva followed suit, watching how naturally he acted with Tali. As if she wasn’t in love with him enough.

Tali’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to her parents. “When did you go to bed yesterday?”

“Why?” Ziva asked, playing along with the interrogation.

“You know why,” she answered cheekily.

Ziva laughed. “I have no idea, tateleh.”

“Because,” she said dramatically, holding up a Ziplock bag with her evidence. “I found a piece of wrapping paper on the floor. I need to find my presents.”

“What presents?” Tony asked, faking confusion. “Is it someone’s birthday, Ima?”

Tali looked from parent to parent, scrutinizing their facial expressions.

“I do not think so,” she said. “I do know that we are going to have a problem making breakfast if there is a crime scene in our kitchen. What were you going to make today, Abba?”

“Hmmmm,” Tony exaggerated. “I thought, since it is Christmas Eve, we would make chocolate chip pancakes. I guess we have to skip it and go back to bed, though...”

Tony and Ziva started to turn away when Tali responded. “No! Wait.”

“Yes, Agent Tali?” her mother asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“I...I suppose I can let you in. But I’ll be watching you,” she announced, biting her lip softly.

The two grinned as they lowered their arms.

“Thank you very much,” Tony replied with a bow.

Tali smiled and ran to the pantry closet to find the components of her favorite breakfast.

Ziva turned to face Tony and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’m so glad we decided to store the presents at Gibbs’ place,” he laughed, returning the embrace.

“You are amazing with her,” she said, her voice filled with a mix of amazement and regret.

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

Ziva smiled softly, still insecure about her sudden return. “She makes it easy. She is perfect, Tony.”

“The best of us, for sure. Although, we do have to help her improve on the ninja spy skills. They leave quite a bit to be desired."

"That is a terrible idea,” she laughed. “Do you want to raise a teenage girl who’s an expert at running behind our backs?”

"Going. And, I think we’ll be up to the challenge.”

Ziva started to respond, but the words died on her lips as she looked at his eyes, sincere and full of everything she never thought she could have.

“What?”

“I...” she said. “I still cannot believe this is real. That we, after everything, can talk about being parents to Tali years into the future. That we finally have something...permanent. That the running is over."

Tony smiled softly and leaned in closer, giving her a soft kiss. “Me neither, sometimes. But all I have to do is look at you, and I know.”

“Know what?” she asked quietly.

“It was inevitable.”

#NCIS #Ziva David #Anthony DiNozzo #Tiva #fanfiction #my fanfiction #tiva fanfiction #my stuff #kristen says things #coffeedepablo #tivali #tali david dinozzo

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davamuramatsu · 4 years ago

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Celebrating Life after Loss

If you haven't been here, it is inevitable that at some point you will be. I never thought my Mother would actually leave this plane called living. I had her my whole life. She was tired and her life journey was nearing the end. I felt it when she would take verbal inventory with me in conversations prior to her death about her mother creating beautiful frocks as a child with imported fabrics from Italy. All hand made. The best dressed child in her era. She grew up to be a very spicy lady with grace, elegance and style. It wasn't until the 70's that she began to paint. Her medium of choice was oils and acrylics. I now am the proud owner of many of her paintings. Her spirit lives on. I feel closer to her now than when she was dimly fading in this life as we know it. Below is one of her creations. She called it Pompeii. Having taken her talent rather for granted back in the 70's, I can tell you, now I cherish it. This piece hangs in my home now.

Manifesting reality from a dream

My Mother’s death instilled a form of inner courage and confidence within me I didn’t realize I was capable of. One fine evening in July, three weeks before she passed – I reverted back to a musician’s voice I discovered on a Claude Challe CD in 2008. I was still producing fashion shows at this point for Matsu. Little did I know how powerfully this man’s breathy, angelic voice would later influence me. I must have been the one to raise the views on You Tube by hundreds as I watched it on multiple occasions. In watching and listening to Jehro, I began to question, why? What was it about this music that brought me into my self? It triggered all of my-selves: my childhood self, my teenage-music major self, and my artiste adult self. I simply felt magical at the sound of his voice. So much so, I Googled his place of performance the following morning and made the discovery that I could take this mental fantasy that spoke so strongly to my heart and turn it into a reality. My desire to be in his presence-creative energy-was stronger than that of the fear of the unknown or doing nothing about it at all. Mom’s passing shone a new light on my life.

Fast forward. I woke up the following morning with a strong will to locate where Jehro was going to perform next. Voila! After some research, I found him on the program to perform on November 24 at Cabaret Sauvage.

I got tickets (with the assist of my fluent-speaking French friend) since the ordering was all in French online. Bingo. Scored. Next, I contacted him through Messenger. I completely put myself out there. I shared with him my “vision” to fly to Paris to hear him. He responded and welcomed me. I was momentarily star struck just from receiving a response. A lovely one at that. He was flattered. I was shy and beginning to realize just what this push meant. It will be uncomfortable. I will be attempting to accomplish something very foreign and clearly beyond my own comfort zone. I had no choice but to push through. The initial contact was made in July. This is what you call serious planning!

Paris et moi

Within the very French “bordello style” musical venue and the dimly lit room, the stage comes alive with his talent, voice, guitars and drums. I was finally in the place I dreamed of since last summer. Meeting him backstage after the show was one of the most exciting moments I’ve experienced in my life. Submerged into another culture with all strangers in one small room, where he was the center of attention-having just completed a stellar concert. The Cabaret has many years of history. The decor was slightly raw but reminiscent of a dinner club. The smoke filled circular room added ambience as the lighting changed colors throughout the evening. If you’d like to hear this magnificent magical voice click here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpZJ59CtlSc

And here we are. Back stage. I’m starstruck, and I think he’s over-the-top flattered. We continued on for the night along with his bandmates into Bastille, sipping Bordeaux and Chartreuse until 4 am in the morning. This adventure will never be forgotten.

The original focus of my trip to Paris was to heighten all of my senses. Prior to meeting Jehro, I filled my afternoon with another sensory distraction: the art of creating perfume. The notes and composition of the scents are not unlike those of writing music or playing an instrument. The correlation was intense.

See The Art of Creating Scents post.

The Nurturing Pearl

Shame on me! I admit that I stereotyped the majestic pearl. I thought they were preppy. I thought they were boring. I often thought they lacked complexity in healing properties offered. It wasn’t until I cleaned out my Mom’s jewelry box along, with my sister, that I realized how healing these creatures from the oyster are! My Mother had tons of pearls. Some costume, some real. Regardless, as I handled them in organizing the array that lay before us, they continued to ask to be fondled. Their round spherical smooth shapes were conducive to having a tranquil effect on my hands, then grew into my heart. After all, I had just lost my Mom 1.5 weeks prior to when I arrived down South to sift through her home. We started within her drawers and as I mentioned, her massive jewelry collections. This opportunity re-introduced me to the wisdom and beauty of the pearl.

Since I returned from Florida after this challenging yet necessary feat, I began visualizing pearls in my head - to the point that I am compelled to find some beauties and drill them, and create earrings first, so they would be on me at all times. I then somehow stumbled upon a collection of primitive looking baroque pearls ranging in colors, sizes and shapes. I made several long single strand necklaces to be worn as a talisman and an elegant accessory on the body. I even placed stacking roll-on bracelets into my collection with 18k gold bead accents on them as pictured below. The photos below depict several different pieces available in my Atelier and also in my online shop Nymph Jewels. I have not been able to remove the sensual pearl earrings from my ears in months. There is indeed something beautiful about their simplicity and understated elegance that works with each and every other piece I wear. As far as the wardrobe goes, this too is a wonderful backdrop for any pearl necklace I decide to wear on any given day.

The mystery of the pearl runs deep. In Chinese culture, it is said that pearls fall to earth when dragons fight in the clouds. Dragons are often seen with a pearl in their mouth or claws - which is a symbol of immortality, luck and magic. Western lore, on the other hand, holds the pearl as the stone of Diana, the Roman goddess of the moon and wild magic. Worldwide, the magnificent pearl has been said to have the kind of legendary, mystical, restorative and healing powers that have fired imaginations for centuries. Pearls have been associated with the Moon and femininity, along with the fact they are grown underwater symbolizing emotions. Pearl energy represents innocence, purity and integrity. Due to their natural beauty, wearing the pearl is a natural attraction for bonding friendships and for love. From another standpoint, wearing the Pearl instills the bearer in accepting love, self love and nurturing. It’s no wonder they simply feel good to the eye and actual touch. There is no such thing as wearing too many pearls. They love one another and will love you for having chosen them to become part of your life.

Pearls will always now bring my spirit and soul close to my Mom’s spirit. This is most likely why I have worn mine daily, and have been encompassing the pearls into the Nymph Collection. Never a trend, always in style. They are the true form of classic elegance. Thank you Mom! I love you and miss you. I know you are up there watching me. You’ve inspired me in this lifetime. I promise not to ignore any inner signs from the universe, or the cloud formation because I’ll instinctively know it is you.

Yours in joy,

Dava

(Originally posted December 4, 2017)

#beauty travel Paris music death loss life #pearls

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phoenix-downer · 6 years ago

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More writing asks...

@dusky-dancing - Yes, and in a few cases it helped me get unstuck on a scene or chapter I was stuck on! It’s like my brain is always working on the problem in the background, and then voila it comes up with something and tells me. I’ve also realized potential plotholes this way as well that I was able to go back and fix.

For you: 2, 24, 27 :)

@heartoffantasyislife - I’m guessing you’re asking for Those Who Dreamed, right? (spoiler warning for anyone who hasn’t read it yet and wants to)

Well, it was like a bunch of separate ideas I had that came together into one whole.

Back around... early Fall 2016 I want to say it was, I was talking to a friend about our ideal SoKai endgame. We were theorizing about how the ending of KH3 might go, wondering if Sora might gain the power to control Kingdom Hearts. And then I thought BUT WHAT IF SORA CHOOSES TO GIVE UP ALL HIS POWER TO BE WITH HER. I got pretty excited about that idea and it stuck with me. It just really struck me as something he would do, you know?

Then I played 0.2 in January 2017 and got pretty excited about the thought of Kairi training and decided to explore that, especially since Kairi seemed a little reluctant at the prospect of training with Lea. I wanted to write about him truly turning over a new leaf and earning her trust enough that they became friends.

The prospect of Kairi fighting Vanitas also contributed to my eagerness to write the thing because I knew it was too good to pass up.

Around July I think it was I thought some more about the “Sora gaining the power of KH” theory and wrote my first take on it. It was originally just a oneshot, but I knew it could easily turn into something more.

Then I was writing the chapter of Dear Sora where Riku arrives on Radiant Garden and tells Sora and Kairi and Ven what happened with Aqua. My darn brain was like WHAT IF SHE RAN INTO TERRA AND HE’S STILL TERRANORT and I resigned myself to the fact that this fic that was originally a oneshot was about to get even longer than its 15 already planned chapters.

So I told my readers Dear Sora was wrapping up but that the story would continue, please wait as I write the rest of it, etc., etc. This was around August 2017. Then, I was like WELP now I have to figure out how to save Terra because let me tell you, he will probably be the most difficult person to save in KH3.

Well, I’d read didsomeonesayventus’s Soranort stuff before and liked the idea and that was in the back of my mind. I was on the train coming home after hanging out with some friends one evening when the means of Terra’s salvation hit me like a lightning bolt (like I said, my brain is always working on these things in the background).

Sora would trade places with him.

I knew I had to write about it. I just knew it. I got that super excited giddy feeling I get when I KNOW I’ve hit gold. So I took notes on my phone, jotting down as much as I could. I wrote the original version of Sora trading places with Terra soon afterwards, as well as Sora giving up his power to be with Kairi. The midpoint (at the time) and ending of the story.

Well, I knew how I wanted to end the story, and I knew what the cost of Terra’s salvation would be. I saw derekscorner’s theory about using data to bring back Roxas, Naminé, and Xion, and I incorporated that in as well. I toyed with having Sora make the deal with Xehanort at the beginning of the story and going back to go through with it, but in the end I had him do it all at once in Chapter 16 (15 on FFN).

Originally Sora was going to be rescued from Xehanort and then the x-Blade would have been created at the same time, but Sora was so traumatized that I knew I needed to rewrite things so that was more spaced out. Give him time to rest and heal, you know? I didn’t want to risk darkness-induced apathy for my readers, either. So that made the story longer.

My initial take on the recovery period was actually kind of dull, there wasn’t much happening. I knew I needed to add in more conflict, more plot. But the first draft of Those Who Dreamed was finished by around January 2018, and it was significantly shorter than the story is in its final form. I figured I had plenty of time to edit the later parts I wasn’t quite happy with though because I had such a good backlog built up already.

Well, I started posting in February 2018, and a reader wondered if the prologue was hinting at Eraqus coming back. And then inspiration struck once again. I figured out a way to include Eraqus and incorporate time travel in a way that hopefully wasn’t too confusing. There was the conflict that the “Sora needs to recover” part of the story was lacking.

Other ideas came to me along the way - Sora gaining full control of his Heartless form, Naminé's meltdown and use of her full powers, Sora seeing how Xehanort figured out Kairi was a Princess of Heart, even how Sora rescued his friends from the x-Blade (which is now one of my favorite chapters!) were all added in during the editing process.

I also had to cut some material out (like a Treasure Planet visit and a Camelot visit) because they just weren’t fitting. Really too bad but who knows, maybe I can use that material in the future.

But yeah, it was really a bunch of ideas all coming together into one whole little by little! I think having so much time to think about it definitely helped. So did having people to bounce my ideas off of.

Anyway, asks for you: 11, 25 43 :)

#writing #answer #those who dreamed #long post

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cwnerd12 · 7 years ago

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Destruction

“Destruction” David shows the video to Monique. They’re at a table with Shay, Joel, Isaiah, and Asher. Monique, “Oh, I know this place. I’ve had some truly memorable raves there.” Shay, “What’s it like inside?” Monique, “It’s a warehouse. Big and empty.” Shay, “What’s it used for? What can we expect to be in there?” Monique, “It’s used for storing shit. I don’t know what it’s used for, I just know the acoustics are good.” David, “There’s multiple points of entry, more than there were at the Cross mansion, we can get in a lot quicker.” Joel, “What if this place is rigged to explode?” David, “Amal is in there. He’s not going to kill himself.” Isaiah, “If it’s full of boxes, it’ll light up real quick.” Shay sighs heavily, “Well, we’ve raided the Amalekites before, and been at least somewhat successful. This time we’re not rescuing anyone, just trying to kill Amal.” Joel, “We can make it simple, have Isaiah make a big-assed bomb, light it off, voila, Amal is gone.” David, “We have to kill him kill him. If there’s even a remote possibility he can survive something and escape, he will. We can’t guarantee a bomb will kill him. Plus, if we only kill him, his followers could still carry on his mission. We need to take as many of them out as possible.” Shay, “We go in quick and discrete. Bring our best. Come to kill. Have snipers posted near the entrances, they take out anyone who tries to leave. Have backup further down in case the snipers miss. He won’t be able to sneak away this time. We’re going in prepared.” Asher, “The good news is, this time, we have plenty of nearby safehouses. Treating the wounded shouldn’t be a problem.” David thinks for a moment, “If Amal is there, they’re going to die to defend him. They’re going to make this as hard as they possibly can. Also, Amal likes to fuck with people’s heads. He’s gonna try to confuse us, turn us against each other.” Shay, “We’ll be ready for that.” David, “Also, I honestly have no idea how they’re going to try to fight back. The soldiers who go in first have to be ready for anything. It’s not entirely crazy that they might blow the place up.” Shay, “I know who to send.”

AFG snipers set up on rooftops near the Amalekite warehouse. Inside another warehouse, the six leaders, David, Joel, Shay, and Isaiah get ready for the raid. The leaders lead their groups out into the area outside, and approach the entrances. One by one, they say, “Ready.” Shay speaks into her headset, “Go.” The doors blast open. The teams go inside, ready to shoot at the slightest sign of movement. The warehouse is filled with maze-like stacks of boxes. Yuri talks into his headset, “I don’t see anything. This place is full of boxes, I’m not sure how to proceed.” David says to Shay, “Shit. We need to get in there.” Shay, “They aren’t fighting, they’re trying to lure us in there.” David, “We gotta go in there, no matter what.” Shay, “All right, let’s go.” David, “We all go in at a different place, come on.” They spread around the building, and go inside. David looks around at the maze of boxes spreading out in front of him. “Shit.” He eyes a nearby ladder leading up to a platform. “I’m gonna try to get a view from above.” He starts climbing. As he reaches the top, a shot rings out, and a bullet ricochets off the ladder just above his head. David jumps back down, “Shit! Okay, we know they’re in here!” The speaker system crackles, and Amal’s voice fills the warehouse, “Hello, General Shepherd! Thrilled you decided to come today! I’m not gonna waste words, I know you’re here to kill me, and you can do that, but you’ve gotta find me, first.” David looks around. Shay, “What do we do, David?” David, “I’m going in. But I’m not going in alone.” He waves to the big group of soldiers behind him, “Everyone else, go in. We’re gonna take them out. Come on.” He enters one of the pathways in between the boxes. The other groups go into other entrances. Slowly, David inches down the narrow path, his soldiers close behind him. Amal, “I see we aren’t fucking around today. I expected nothing less from this brave leader, the man who runs head-first into danger, who blows up every tank he sees, who heroically sacrifices himself for a greater good.” A shot fires from above, hitting one of David’s soldiers. David shoots in the direction the shot came from. Another shot comes from the opposite direction, and takes out another one of this soldiers. David spins and shoots in the other direction. The firing stops. David’s breath shakes, he keeps pointing up at the area above him. Nothing happens, “Come on, we can’t stop.” A box full of something heavy is pushed down onto David’s head, knocking him over. His soldiers furiously shoot where it fell from. One goes over to David and helps him get up. He touches a cut on his eyebrow, sees the blood on his fingers. Shay, “Shit, David, let’s just fuckin’ burn this place and get out of here.” David, “No! I’m not stopping until I get Amal!” Amal, “You know, I’ve always liked your determination.” David waves, “Come on. Everyone keep going.” Joel leads his group further in, and so does Shay. Amal, “It may seem strange, but I really admire what you’re doing. Not the whole freeing Gilboa part. The killing people part. You’ve got quite a body count, David. And not just the usual pile of dead soldiers. I mean, you executed one of your closest friends. I killed my old boss. I hated that bitch, so it was easy. Killing a friend? That’s hard.” David grits his teeth with anger, but keeps pressing forward. A burst of gunfire, one of Shay’s soldiers falls. Shay shoots back, and an Amalekite falls to the ground, dead. Amal, “You inspire me, David. I never would have become a terrorist if it weren’t for you. I talk a lot about trying to tear down society, and I like to think that I’ve done my part, but I still can’t hold a candle to you.” More exchange of gunfire. David goes forward, and sees motion out of the corner of his eye. He spins around, and sees another unit of AFG soldiers down another pathway, pointing their guns at him. He lowers his gun and presses on. Amal, “Look at what you’ve done. You drove King Silas to madness, led him into not one, but two wars. I couldn’t do that.” David comes to a fork in the paths, he looks down the two ways. Amal, “Every attack I make, I’m just trying to do what you’re doing. The palace, Damascus, Fistopia, the Belle Visage, the Western Mall… Damn, I’m losing track. You must have trouble keeping track of all the destruction you’ve caused, too.” Gunfire. Amal, “So, in case you’re wondering, yes, all those attacks are absolutely your fault.” David, “Shut the fuck up!” Amal laughs, “What, you don’t like the truth? I guess it’s easier to accept the deaths of a bunch of faceless strangers, but what about the people you know? Didn’t you kill one of your friends in the AFG’s first attacks?” David hurries forward. He finds another path, takes it. Amal, “Oh, I know, what about that little prince, Prince Seth? Yeah, he’d definitely still be alive if weren’t for your crusade against King Silas. I’d get into the other prince, but since he’s your boyfriend, I’m pretty sure you know full well that it’s your fault he’s a vegetable.” David searches frantically for a way towards Amal. Another box falls in front of him, but he ducks, and it misses him. He fires up at the ceiling, two Amalekites fall. Amal, “Hey, that’s another two you can add to your death tally. You know, you don’t even have to kill your friends to hurt them. You can just kill their parents, like you did to your Rabbi. Didn’t your diplomat’s dad get killed? I almost forgot about that. They tortured her brother, too, didn’t they? Nothing like good old fashioned torture.” David fires at the ceiling. Dust falls, but nothing else. Amal, “Really, you have to ask yourself, why are you even doing all this? For peace and freedom? What the fuck does that even mean? You want the crown. That’s it. You aren’t any different from Silas, or Linus, or anyone else who’s declared himself king. You’re going to lead more wars. You’re going to suppress your political opponents. You’ve fought so damn hard, you’re not gonna let someone else challenge you for that crown, are you? You won’t let anyone else touch it. You’ll kill them before that happens.” David finds another branch, he looks through it, and sees a large group of Amalekites. They all fire at him. He ducks back into the boxes. The Amalekites come through to find him, and he and his soldiers fire at them. Amal laughs, “See, I’m right!” David fights with the Amalekites. Shay and her group run towards the sound of the fighting. She sees the Amalekites and opens fire on them, taking them out. Amal, “I see you still have friends. Is that Shay Mendoza? Do you think she’s gonna die for you?” Shay and David look at each other. Amal, “How are you gonna hurt her, David? What terrible tragedy is going to befall her because of her involvement with you?” Shay, “Don’t listen to him, David!” Amal, “I see Joel Bronikov and Isaiah Clemens are both here. Which one of them is going to get killed? Do you really think none of your friends are gonna die for you?” David catches another movement out of the corner of his eye, and spins around, firing. An AFG soldier ducks at the end of another path, nearly struck by Davis’ bullets. Amal, “I admire you, David. You’re so much more of a villain than I ever could be. You make destruction look good. You make it feel good. I can’t do that. Only you can. If I am a demon, you summoned me. I wish I were you. Everything that I am, everything that I do, all because of you.” David finds one final opening, and goes through it, out into an empty space surrounded by boxes. He’s met by another group of Amalekites, and fires on them. Shay runs up behind him, firing, “We’re at the center!” Amalekites fall, and visible behind them is Amal, watching the scene with delight. David runs for him, fury in his eyes. Shay, “David!” David reaches Amal and tackles him. He begins to pummel his face in. Joel and his group reach the center, and fire at the Amalekites, taking them all out. Amalekites begin to appear at the rim top of the circle of boxes, and fire down at the AFG, who fire back. Other groups come out of the maze, and start firing. David furiously keeps beating Amal. He grabs Amal’s collar and slams his head against the concrete floor again and again. Amal spits out a mouth full of blood and teeth and laughs, “You love it, don’t you?!” David punches him again and again. Amal, his face an unrecognizable bloody mess, “You aren’t killing me, you’re making me suffer! You’re a man after my own heart!” David grabs his gun and points it at Amal’s head. Amal laughs, “Go ahead, kill me. Society is still going to fall apart. You’re leading the charge. Do you really think you’re going to help anyone, make anything better? You’re my fucking brother, David. You think you’re doing the right thing. Really, you’re doing so much more damage than you can even comprehend. All of my followers have taken an oath. If I die, they die with me. If you kill me, you will be responsible for all of their deaths. So go ahead, do the right thing. Kill me.” David pulls the trigger. Amal’s hand opens, and a deadman switch falls out. The remaining Amalekites stand, point their guns at their heads, and shoot themselves. David stands for a moment, stunned, and then kneels down and picks up the switch. Shay, “What the fuck just happened?” David, “I think we won?” Joel, “Yeah, it looks like we won.” Shay, “This was way too easy.” David, “Yeah, but, we won!” He raises his hand, but winces, “Ah!” he rubs it, “Is there a security system here? If we got all that on video, it would be pretty great.” Shay goes up to David, and sees the switch in his hand, “What the fuck is that?” David, “I dunno. Amal was holding it. Looks like some kind of button.” Shay, “That’s a fucking deadman switch. Something was supposed to go off when Amal died.” David, “Well, nothing’s here is blowing up.” The faint sound of sirens. David, “We should get out of here.”

At the safehouse, Abby watches the news, a chaotic scene in the crowded middle of Shiloh, “An unknown number of bombs have gone off, in what looks like a coordinated series of simultaneous attacks.” Abby’s phone buzzes, she answers, “David? What the fuck did you do?” Outside her window, an ambulance roars by. In the back of a truck full of other AFG soldiers, David talks on his phone, “I killed Amal? First time I’ve killed someone and felt no regret whatsoever.” Abby, “Did he have some kind of switch on him?” David, “What?” Abby, “A bunch of bombs just went off, all at the same time. It looks like an Amalekite attack.” Shay, next to David, shows him a news feed on her phone, “Holy shit.” David yells up at the truck’s driver, “Turn around! We’re going to help!” Shay, “Anyone who shows up in an AFG jacket is going to get arrested!” David, “Then take our fucking jackets off! We caused this attack-” Shay, “We didn’t!” David, “We’re going to help! Turn the truck around!” Shay, “David, stop it! What if this is another trap?” David goes quiet. He raises his hand, which is bruised and swollen, to brush his hair back. Shay leans forward, “Jesus, what did you do to your hand?” David, “I don’t know, something snapped.” Shay, “Fuck. We’re going back to the safehouse. You need to get that looked at.” David, “You and I are going back to the safehouse, everyone else is going out to help! We have to be seen helping!”

At a devastated cafe, chaos still swirls, AFG members jump out of a van. Cameron is followed by Yuri and Beth as he begins to look for wounded people to help. He goes up to a woman sitting on a curb with a wounded arm and blood on her forehead, “Hey, I’m a medic, are you getting help?” Woman, “No.” Cameron, “Lemme look at your head.” He examines the cut on her head, “Looks like just a laceration, you just need some stitches,” he turns over to Yuri, “Yuri, can you get her head bandaged?” Yuri gets a bandage out of Cameron’s kit and helps while Yuri examines the woman’s arm. Elsewhere, a police officer looks at the AFG jackets around him, and asks into his radio, “We have AFG jackets here, what am I supposed to do?”

In a situation room, Abner rages while Reinhardt and other officers listen in. Abner, “I don’t understand this! How could all of these bombs have gone off at once?” Reinhardt, “Sir, you’ve been in the army long enough, I’m sure you know how detonation signals work.” Abner, “Shut the fuck up, Reinhardt. I’m the fucking king and I deserve your respect.” Reinhardt, “My sincerest apologies, sir.” An aide comes in, “Sir, Police captains are reporting that AFG soldiers and medics are showing up at the bombing scenes as first responders. They want to know what to do.” Abner, “Arrest them!” Reinhardt, “Seriously?” Abner, “I told you to shut up!” Reinhardt, “Well, pardon me for speaking up sir, but arresting medics who are trying to help after a major attack is a stupid fucking idea. The public already hates you, do you really want to piss them off more?” Abner, “Arrest anyone in an AFG jacket!”

Cameron, Beth, and Yuri continue to help people. A police officer comes up and grabs Cameron, “You’re under arrest.” Cameron, “Let me finish wrapping this bandage!” Yuri stands up and goes over to the officer, “What the fuck?!” Officer, “I have orders to arrest anyone in an AFG jacket!” Yuri punches the officer. Beth pulls her phone out and starts recording. Yuri, “Go back to helping people, Cameron.” Other officers come up and grab Cameron, Yuri, and Beth. Yuri yells at the top of his lungs, “WE’RE JUST TRYING TO HELP AND YOU’RE ARRESTING US! ARE YOU PISSED BECAUSE WE’RE DOING YOUR FUCKING JOBS FOR YOU?! WE’RE JUST TRYING TO HELP!” A crowd stops to form. People step in between the police and their squad car. The officer who has Yuri, “Get out of the way, or you’ll be under arrest, too!” Yuri, “A bomb just went off and you’re gonna fucking arrest everyone here!” Officer, “Shut the fuck up!” One of the onlookers in front of the squad car goes up to the officer and punches him. A brawl breaks out. Cameron and Beth slip away, and go back to the people they were helping.

At a safehouse, Dr. Alves examines David’s hand, which is swollen and bruised. Abby sits next to them. The cut on his face is held together with a butterfly bandage. David winces, “Ah!” Alves, “Did you feel anything snap?” David, “I might have. I dunno. I was punching Amal pretty hard.” Alves, “Can you move your pinkie?” David tries, but grimaces, “Ah! No.” Alves, “Looks like your small metacarpal is broken. We call it a boxer’s fracture, happens when you punch shit too hard. You’re gonna be in a cast for six to eight weeks.” David, “I can’t do that, I still have to fight Abner.” Alves, “Find someone else to do it, or wait six to eight weeks, because otherwise your hand is gonna be permanently fucked.” David, “All right, fine.” Alves, “I’ll get you in a splint, then.” David, “Shit.” Alves leaves. Abby, “So what are we supposed to do, David?” David, “Do about what?” Abby, “About the fact that there’s a warehouse full of dead Amalekites that’s going to start smelling in a day or two.” David, “Fuck if I know. You’re the diplomat. How many people are dead?” Abby, “It’s too early to tell, but, at least 30 bombs went off.” David, “Are you fucking serious?” Abby, “I wish I wasn’t.” David, “It’s all my fault.” Abby, “No, it’s not. Alek Amal set those bombs off, you had nothing to do with it.” David, “I kind of did have something to do with it. We might as well make a statement and acknowledge everything. There’s no use trying to hide or deny it. Just stick to the facts of what happened, I guess.” Abby, “That makes sense. I’ll put something together.”

Abner watches video of Yuri being arrested, and the ensuing fight. Beside him, Reinhardt, “Not to be an asshole, but I told you this would happen.” Abner, “How many arrests have been made?” Reinhardt looks at his tablet, “Uh…. five, it looks like.” Abner, “What? That makes no fucking sense. Thirty bombs went off, and AFG was at every one of them. I gave a blanket arrest order. Did the entire police force ignore it?” Reinhardt, “I can’t tell you, sir. But I think in an emergency situation, a good police officer will put his focus on helping those in need rather than making arrests.” Abner gets up without saying anything. Reinhardt, “Sir, where are you going?” Abner, “Go home for the evening, Reinhardt. Get a good night’s sleep. We’ll clean up all this shit tomorrow. I need to visit someone.”

David sits with Shay, Joel, and Isaiah. Joel reads his phone, “There were some fights, but we had civilians coming to the AFG’s defense. This means people are on our side.” David, “Tomorrow, people are going to find out that the bombs went off when I killed Amal. They’re going to find out that this is my fault.” Shay, “It’s not your fault, how many times do I have to tell you that?” David, “It is my fucking fault.” Isaiah, “I’m gonna keep working on my drone. The best thing we can do right now is to just do what we’ve always done, and keep moving.” David, “Yeah, guess so.” Joel looks at David’s new cast, “Hey, can we sign that thing?” David, “No dicks.” Joel, “What’s the point of signing a cast if you don’t draw dicks on it?”

In his cell, Vesper works on his translations. Abner enters. Vesper looks up and sees him, “Good to see you again.” Abner sits down across from him, “When Silas would visit you, what did you two talk about?” Vesper, “This and that. The ordeals of being king, mostly. Perhaps a bit about theology. We played quite a few games of chess. Care for a game?” Abner, “Fine.” Vesper, “I’ll let you play white. You can make the first move.” Abner thinks for a moment, and moves a pawn. Vesper, “Are you an experienced player?” Abner, “Not especially.” Vesper, “Then I’ll go easy on you.” He moves a pawn. Abner thinks and then makes another move, “Today, I fucked up and made the AFG look good and myself look worse. I keep trying to do what I think Silas would do, but I can’t quite seem to get it right.” Vesper, “Are you asking me how Silas would take out Shepherd? Because it seems to me that he failed at that objective. Maybe that’s why you’re failing, too,” he makes a move, “Silas was an aggressive player, always brought his queen out too early. It took him a while, but, slowly, he learned the value of patience, and making a strategy. He learned when to sacrifice his pieces and when to protect them.” Abner, “Is there some sort of metaphor here?” Vesper, “In chess, you don’t win by eliminating all the other player’s pieces. You win by making their king unable to move.” Abner, “So are you saying all I have to do is trap Shepherd?” Vesper, “Chess is just a game, Linus. Never mistake a game for real life.”

Nighttime, David lies awake. He gets out of bed and puts his pants on. He leaves the bedroom and wanders out into the living room. Beth sits out on the sofa, watching the news with the sound off and closed captions on. She wears a tiny, tight t-shirt and a pair of boy-cut panties. David, “Hi.” Beth looks up, “Oh, hi. I was just watching the news. I’m kind of surprised because there’s no mention of Amal being killed. I mean, I guess that takes second place to the bombings, but, still, you think they’d at least mention it.” David, “Saving that announcement for tomorrow,” he sits down on the sofa, “I thought I’d end today celebrating the end of the Amalekites. Instead, I’ve got my hand in a cast for six to eight weeks.” He raises his case. Beth, “Can I sign it?” David, “Sure. I don’t know where the pens are…” Beth goes over to a desk and opens a drawer, “Here.” She goes over to David, and gently touches his arm. Their faces almost touch. David raises the cast. One of the signatures, “Love, Abby” has a vagina drawn next to it. Beth, “Is that a vagina?” David, “I said no dicks.” Beth laughs, “You should have said no genitalia.” She signs his cast, “There. Nothing obscene, just my name.” David, “Thanks.” Beth stays close to David, and lowers her voice, “You were really amazing today. I mean it. Alek Amal, he’s fucking terrifying, or, thanks to you, he was. If I were in the same room with him, I would have just panicked. You ran straight to him and beat the shit out of him. That’s incredible.” David, “He made me angry.” Beth breathes heavily and looks into David’s eyes, and he looks back at her. Cut to: (“Desire” Meg Myers) David and Beth passionately make out on the couch, and rip their clothes off. A condom wrapper falls to the floor. They fuck with raw intensity. Beth claws at David’s back, and he bites her lip. She moans with pleasure, and David gasps as he comes. For a moment, he lies on top of her, panting. He opens his eyes and looks at her. She smiles at him, satisfied. David gets to his feet, “This isn’t going to happen again!” He grabs his clothes and walks off, leaving Beth confused.

#Kings

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judefan841 · 4 years ago

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