#I have been getting very good at keeping myself open to change and new beginnings and whatever

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

I literally don’t know how to talk about and process this without sounding like some sort of weird incel but maybe that’s what’s going on

[thesiltverses]

A very big thank you

I posted this on Patreon, but really wanted to share it here as well:

Post-show life begins

For a long while now I’ve been getting up at 4.30 or 5am, grabbing myself the first coffee of four, and then coming to sit at my desk.

I open up the assembly cut of the newest TSV episode.

I listen to it, I try and pin down which scenes I need to be going back over today. I try and push through the entire morning without a break because when the momentum stalls, that’s what kills your release schedule. (I also worry endlessly about just how much of my hair is falling out, and how spending 12 hours a day wearing headphones could be contributing to that.)

Today was different. I still woke up early - it’s a hard habit to shake off, and probably a useful one going forward. But I didn’t go to my desk, and I didn’t put my headphones on.

I went to the rocking chair we bought for our son when he comes, and I sat there - gently swaying and trying not to spill my coffee all over it, because for some reason it’s fucking beige - and looked out over the city skyline. 

I slugged back my coffee surrounded by all the stuff we’ve panic-bought for the baby, and I got to take all of it in - washcloths and the changing table and romper suits - with a sudden focus and a clarity and a rising excitement that I really hadn’t allowed myself to feel until today, because until today the work was still unfinished and there was still much left to be done.

All at once I felt very free, and fully sated, and happy and proud for everything that’s coming next.

There’s so much to feel grateful for from the past three years of working on this show. But what’s probably going to sit with me the most is being able to arrive at that moment and those feelings today, - and we have all of you incredible people to thank for that.

Not just in terms of listenership or financial support, although that’s been truly invaluable and a lifeline for us that’s enabled us to actually make the show - but also your enthusiasm, your passion, your jokes and comments and everything that’s helped to keep us motivated and working on it.

So - with as much feeling as words can convey, thank you so, so much for everything.

What’s coming next, in rough order

#1: Parentdom is going to take over our lives for a while! I also want to write the final Patreon episode commentaries in the next few days, while I have the time and the clear memories. #2: The next thing we’ll organise will be the post-season Q&A (we’d also like to do some kind of off-camera cast party if we can make schedules work, just to say thank you to our amazing VAs and celebrate with them). Please do ask us questions! #3: We have long-unfinished commitments to the Patreon which I need to complete: the last two episodes of So Long, Good Luck, and rounding off Sid Wright’s story. As ever, huge thank-yous for your patience with these; they’ve just been impossible to polish off while also working on the main show so much. #4: Something I’ve been thinking about for a long time is the possibility of going back to Season 1 and redesigning it from scratch to try and bring it closer in style to S2 and S3. We have the raw audio files - some of the mic quality will just be rough no matter what, but we can certainly try.  This is something I want to be conscientious and careful about; I very much want to respect the sound design work that’s already taken place, and ensure we’re not overriding anything. But I do know that the initial quality still sometimes puts new listeners off; we were learning a lot about direction and mastering from scratch, and our designers were working with limited budget and a total lack of plugins, so there’s simply a lot more we can achieve now. (This would also be a good opportunity for me to finally rework the transcripts, another fallen hurdle). #5: A few months back, we were contacted by a literary agent in NYC who was interested in us adapting the show into a series of novels. There’s a long road ahead to actually get published, but I'm thrilled to say that I have signed with them and I’m really excited to hopefully start work on the first book once I’ve settled into dad-dom. I’ll need to check what’s possible, but if it doesn’t interfere with any contract condition I’d obviously love to share excerpts on here as it’s written. #6: Then there’ll also be another larger audiodrama project - we’ve spoken about the different possibilities before! Excited to get started on our final choice.

Just one last word about endings

God, endings are scary. Because endings are impossible.

How many serialised stories actually end in a way that’s received unequivocally well?  People yelled at The Sopranos for its ambiguity and open-endedness. People criticised Breaking Bad for treating Walt too sympathetically at the end and relying on a generic mob of snarling Nazis to act as his final foe.

Endings are either too pat and neat, or too inconclusive to be satisfying, or too surreal and dreamlike, or they simply make what feels like the wrong choices for the characters we care about. We’re all caught in that barbed wire, creators and audience alike, weighed down by the baggage of what’s come before and we've already spent so much time anticipating the infinite possibilities of how it could all turn out - it’s like we can’t get free of the story that’s trying to end. 

And the beautiful thing about these longform, iterative works is that they insist upon becoming completely ungovernable. No matter how much of a planner the creator claims to be, how much prepwork they carry out - they were never really in control. There’s spontaneity and surprises and dead ends and beautiful distractions that come spilling out along the way (I was baffled and delighted to learn that people really - at the end of the show, with such limited time to spare - wanted to find out what had happened to Eddie*). 

So they can’t end. Not really. There’s too much wonderful mess in them to ever be reasonably disentangled.

And, of course, for every ending people remember with frustration or dissatisfaction, there’s another hundred endings that nobody remembers at all, because we lost our enthusiasm along the way and it feels better to keep going back to the start and avoiding the slow decline. (Who the fuck remembers how the umpteenth X-Files reboot ended? What increasingly tired post-modern antics was Alan Moore getting up to in the final League of Extraordinary Gentlemen books?). I really just didn’t want the show to end up in that latter category.

All of that probably sounds like I’m warding off criticism about the show's ending, but for me it’s actually been the opposite. 

For an ending which is all about narrative dissatisfaction, and failed potential and missed opportunities, and how we need to come to terms with the lack of existential fairness and certainty and narrative control in our lives and keep ploughing forward all the same for as long as we possibly can, I’m massively stunned at just how positive the reception has been on here and elsewhere, and that’s something I’m actively having to process, because I think I was fearfully anticipating much more pushback.

But, look - the Eskew finale was originally quite poorly-received and then people came back around to it over time. So I’m not going to pat myself on the back too hard, because maybe it’ll ultimately be the opposite with this show, and that’s OK. For 200 years everyone was convinced King Lear was improved by having everyone survive at the end and get married. Endings take time to settle into their final condition.

For now, I am incredibly relieved that the ending we chose seems to have landed for most people, and I’m incredibly grateful for the lovely messages we’ve got about it and for the trust in us that you’ve all shown throughout the story.

So, yeah, let’s end with another thank you, because that’s what I feel so deeply and so forcefully at this point.

Thank you so much again, and speak soon.

Jon

*My take? We’ve established that the guy is in some kind of blue-collar job and has been pushed into constant overtime due to the reduced workforce. We’ve seen that the so-called ‘national holiday’ doesn’t actually rescue workers from their commitments. So I personally imagine that Eddie was working during the parade somewhere on the city outskirts, and is alive and well.

[novlr]

I have a bad habit of never finishing writing I start - I work hard on a story, make it to 3/4 of the way through, then lose passion for it and start something else. I know the key to overcoming this is discipline, and I’m trying very hard to make myself keep going with my current story that I like very much and spent so much time researching and outlining, but it’s a struggle every day to make my writing goal. Any advice for how to re-ignite writing spark or how to push through to the end?

We can lose our drive to write for a lot of reasons. It often indicates a growing maturity as an artist — you understand the craft better and your own (current) limitations better, and so you begin to feel overwhelmed in a way you didn’t before. It can also be that external anxieties are getting in the way or simply that you’ve lost interest in your current project. 

Hope is not lost. Read on for some tips on reclaiming your writing spark. 

Shift gears

Sometimes, all you need to reignite your writing spark is to engage your brain in a different way. If you’re struggling with your novel, take a break and try writing a poem or a piece of flash fiction. Or, you could try drawing sketches of your characters, a map of your story’s world, or some possible outfits for your climactic battle scene (it doesn’t have to be good. No one’s going to see it). 

The trick is to stay creative but to approach your work from a different angle. 

Change location

If you’ve been trying and failing to write at your desk, surrounded by crumpled up dreams drafts and last week’s candy wrappers, you may be suffering from an environment with stagnant energy. Try taking yourself on a writer’s date: go to a location that fits the tone of the project you’re working on (lux hotel lobby, seedy theatre bar, the wilds of a nearby park), and see if that gets your creative wheels turning. 

Dress [in]appropriately 

In Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg has a chapter called “Blue Lipstick and a Cigarette Hanging Out Your Mouth”. By this she meant, “Use outfits and props to step outside yourself and get a new perspective”. You might find it helpful to have a special “writer’s sweater” that you only wear when you’re writing or to dress like someone confident and cool enough to smash writer’s block in the face. 

Do some soul-searching

What’s really going on here? If the above tricks aren’t doing it for you, there may be some bigger issues at play that are inhibiting you from connecting to your writing spark. 

Write letters

I’ve written about the restorative powers of letter writing before, and I’ll mention it again: handwritten letters are a great way to get the words flowing. You don’t actually have to send them when you’re done (although you can if you want to); the recipient doesn’t even need to exist. Simply by putting your thoughts down in a low-risk way, you’re unclogging your creative pipes. 

Join a writing group

There’s power and accountability in numbers. You can find writing groups online, through community centres and writers centres, or by sticking a flyer up in a bookshop and starting your own. There’s even a Novlr writing community on Discord where we share tips, struggles, and just generally talk craft! By inviting other people into your writing practice, you’ll have some support and encouragement to keep you going. 

Find your writing spark with writing prompts

The internet is awash with writing prompts. These can be a helpful way to get something down on paper and stretch out your writing muscles. Whether it’s a premise, an opening line, or a character study, writing prompts can give you a gentle, creative push and even inspire new work.

Experiment with found structure

If writing a traditional story feels like pulling out your own teeth, try a found structure story. This means using fictional “found material” like shopping lists, calendars, to-do lists, ticket stubs, banking records, and so forth to create a narrative. 

Here’s an example: Imagine a week in which a bride-to-be prepares for her glorious wedding, is left at the altar, rages in misery, and ultimately emerges healthier and stronger. Now, write her shopping list for each day of that week. How does it change from beginning to end? How much emotional detail can you communicate to the reader through the items that appear on these lists? This can be a fun way to create a story without the anxiety of writing it.

Set a petty life goal

I am a proud champion of the value of pettiness as a motivator. There are plenty of noble reasons to write: to share powerful stories, to help readers in need of healing, to inspire others to write stories themselves, and to draw attention to important social issues or minority identities. 

There are also some really inane and selfish reasons to write: to become more famous than your ex, to appear on TV and make your ex regret everything they’ve ever done to you, to have your book made into a movie and receive casting consultation rights and pitch your favourite actor in the lead role and allow them to take you for coffee as a thank you. But the thing is… these are the motivations that are really going to pull you out of the dirt when you need it most. Find the silly driving goal that really gets under your skin and hold onto it for dear life. 

Forgive yourself

Many writers experience a lot of shame when they aren’t writing as much as they feel they should. Needless to say, this shame only makes the writing harder. Allow yourself the space to take some time when you need it, process your struggles, and return when you’re ready. The page will be waiting when you get back. 

[billsbabydoll]

“𝒾𝓃𝓃ℴ𝒸ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎.”

contains:SMUT<3

summary:intrigued at my pure innocence, tom takes it upon himself to completely corrupt me of my purity and show me how to be “good little girl” for him.

WARNINGS:dom!tom, virgin!reader, mutual-masturbation, pet-names, praising, corruption kink, HEAVY daddy kink, age gap (reader-19 tom-24), p in v (from the back), couch sex, multiple orgasms.

notes:sorry for abandoning you guys ive been lacking motivation to finish a story, this is like my 4th draft!

“wait you’ve never had sex?!”tom questions a curious and eager gaze glimmering in his eyes, the whole world and myself included very well knew tom was no stranger to sex, so once learning of my purity he was ultimately not only surprised but determined to change that.

“y-yeah your my first kiss too, everything else is unknown to me, complete virgin..”i nervously chuckled, sensing his interest in this new found information.

“well baby whats holding you back, too scared?!”he teased giggling at my nervous demeanor, beginning to tickle and poke at the sides of my hips.

i burst into laughter as his tickling becomes more intense and unbearable causing me to squirm and wiggle, my back landing and now resting on the couch.he climbed on top of me his legs keeping me in place, his hands holding mine firmly above my head.

he looks deeply into my eyes, his gorgeous dark eyes piercing into my soul like he could hear every beat of my pounding heart.

“can i teach you hun? i promise ill show you how to do everything..make you feel so good.”he said in a soft and mesmerizing tone, his voice drawing me in right into the palm of his hand.

“b-but i don’t know how-”i mumbled innocently, my soft little eyes looking up into his, my lips quivering with jitters.

“let me teach you, show you how to be such a good little girl for me.”he quickly replied taking no further moment to dive his lips into my own, his lips tangling mine into a passionate and deep kiss.i moan into his mouth as his tongue slips inside my mouth, exploring every inch.

he pulls away letting his grip of me go now sitting up straight, he then starts signaling for me to undress.once the last piece of clothing is now gone onto the floor and no longer on my body he looks me up and down taking in every single part of my body.

“where have you been hiding all of this hm? fuck your gorgeous schatzi…”he purred a smug smile spreading across his lips.

“now spread your legs and let me show you how good this feels okay?”

“okay..”i whisper anxiously as i slowly open my legs, my pussy now exposed for the first time right infront of his very own eyes.

“atta girl, now we’re gonna start slow hm?”he explained his hand reaching out, the tips of fingers making contact with my clit and my folds, rubbing them ever so slightly.

“that feel alright?”

“y-yeah mmh..”i moan at the unfamiliar but unexpectedly delicious feeling, his fingers moving now at a firm yet still gentle pace.

“look at you, such a pretty little pussy..tell me how this feels baby.”he chuckles at my reaction knowing this was just the beginning, he now slides his index and ring finger inside my tight walls.

“o-oh god!”i cry at the feeling of my cunt stretching to the length of his large fingers.he begins pumping his fingers in and out, the pain quickly being replaced with the unknown sensation of pleasure.

“doing so good baby, such a good girl.”he praises enjoying the sight of me withering and crumbling from the pleasure he providing me, he continues pumping his fingers inside me.meanwhile using his free hand to pull down his jeans, remove his shirt, and lastly reveal his length to me.

“daddy what is that?”i mumbled taking in the never before seen sight right infront of me, analyzing his erect length, with a pinkish tip dripping with clear strange liquid.

“this is what happens when you get me excited sweet girl, lemme teach you now how to make daddy feel good..”he cooed smirking at the pure curiosity in my eyes, he pulls his fingers out of me and now takes my right hand in his bringing it down to his cock.he then begins to guide my hand up and down his length, groaning at the sensation.

“thats it baby, just like that..”he croaks in between his desperate moans, letting my hand go allowing me to now try on my own, his fingers finding their way back inside my virgin walls.

“mmhm! t-that feels so good..”

“ughh-told ya, daddys gonna make you feel good baby..”

he whispers staring deeply into my soul as he continues to savor the feeling of my small hand gliding up and down his large length, his tip oozing with sticky clear liquid.he reaches his free left hand up to my perky breast, squeezing and rubbing my tender skin.

we continue at this for a few minutes tom talking me through what i freshly experiencing, before i soon feel a weird bubble beginning to build up in the pit of my core.

“ughh d-daddy i-mmhm im gonna-!”i moan my legs beginning to squirm and shake at this point, he nods excitedly beginning to pump his fingers inside me faster and more aggressively.

i throw my head back hitting it onto the arm rest, my hands gripping on the leather of couch, my eyes rolling into the back of my head, my mind going blank, my mouth hanging open spewing the most horrendous noises.

“mmh-yeah cmon baby cum a-all over my hand, my little good girl.”he encouraged, my juices quickly spilling down on his hand coating his fingers with my precious ooze.

i rapidly come down from my rush, quickly being flipped over on my stomach, my face crashing into the couch pillows.tom climbing behind me slapping my ass before sliding his member inside my virgin cunt.

i whimper at the feeling of his girthy length filling me up inch by inch, my walls unaccustomed to being so stretched out, he then began to thrust himself inside me steadily, moaning at my precious walls clenching around his cock.

“taking me so well sweet girl, taking daddys cock like a good girl hm?”

“t’much i cant mmh-i cant!”

“mmhm you can take it baby, i know you can!”

he coos building his pace faster and harder devouring my pussy with his cock like a starved man, he simply just cant get enough of the feeling of my innocence being completely destroyed and shattered.

the living room was soon filled with the smell of warmth and sex, sound of sweaty skin slapping and string of moans filled both our ears, the couch rocking beneath us from the impact of our love-making.

“ugh!baby im gonna mmhc-cum!”he announced loudly, his hands gripping harshly at the skin of my shoulders, continuing to pound his cock inside me.

“gonna cum all i-inside that little pussy!”

he croaked fucking himself harsher and harsher than ever in my pussy, his tip kissing and hitting that special spongey part deep inside my pussy.i soon felt his seed spraying into my walls coating them completely in his sticky liquid.

i completely explode at the blissful feeling, completely seeing stars as i begin to tremble once again, my juices mixing with his.

we both pant aggressively coming down from our high, tom rests his head on the crook of my shoulder peppering gentle kisses on my smooth but wet with sweat skin, before pulling his member out of my aching pussy.

“not so innocent now hm sweet angel?”

THE END

[intuitively-her]

Compliments you receive behind your back

Pile 1-(The Tower, 8 of swords, Judgement, The Magician, 4 of wands, Knight of pentacles, Ace of pentacles, Ace of wands)

People really admire your ability to put the pieces back together after a shitty situation. You've been on a long adventure of self-discovery and it's served you very well. You have a good judge of character as well. I think past situations have helped build your discernment. Therefore, you rarely ever get caught up in bs anymore. People really admire how sweet and supportive you are. There's something very cheerful about you. You tend to be the happiest in the room lol. You may travel a lot. You could've traveled abroad recently or are planning to. People love how you go under the radar at times and then suddenly pop out with something new. Your aesthetic is heavily admired, especially the way you dress. Even down to your mannerisms and the way you talk. People really like you. You have a hardworking and responsible nature. You won't let yourself or those you care for fail. You turn lemons into lemonade! People love how you can manifest prosperity and new beginnings. It makes them think, "If pile 1 can do it, I can too!" You're an idol babe.🌟

*channeled song: Barbie girl by aqua

*daily affirmations: Today I am mindful. Today I know deep in my heart and soul that happiness and self-worth are within me. Today I trust myself. Today I know that I will make the right decisions to maintain a happy and healthy life.

Pile 2-(Ace of cups, 2 of swords rx, 5 of wands rx, 3 of wands, The Hermit, 6 of cups rx, 10 of swords rx, The Star, 6 of wands rx)

People admire how expressive you are with your emotions. You may be really good with kids, or people really love your childish nature. Your fairness is very admired. I feel like you don't like to take sides in situations. You try to see everything from multiple perspectives. You have this innate ability to ease conflict and brighten the mood. Someone here could be an alchemist. You're so self-sacrificial to others. People really admire your ability to self-reflect and right your wrongs. You really make an effort to change. You may have been forced to grow up fast. This is inspiring to the ones that know your story. You have transformed into someone unrecognizable. You remain humble even though you're in the spotlight. Like you know you have eyes on you but you don't let it go to your head.

*daily affirmation: Today I am healthy. Today my mind, heart, and soul are one healthy being.

Pile 3-(The Empress, Queen of pentacles, Temperance, The World, Strength, 10 of cups, The Moon rx, 5 of wands, Queen of wands rx, 7 of cups)

People really admire your motherly qualities. Someone here could be a mother. If so, people think you're an amazing mom. It's like you would give your child/children the world if you could. For someone specific, people really love your cooking. Your presence is just so healing. You take pride in keeping your family stable and people really admire that. You're very big on family in general. You're very protective over your family and will go to war for anyone you care about. I keep hearing "mama bear". Your honesty is something that is very admired by your friends/family. People admire how patient you are with life in general. You may have been through lessons that taught you how precious time is and not to take people/things for granted. You have great optimism. Your vulnerability is admired as well. Others can tell that you're not scared to let your guard down to those closest to you. Your beauty is heavily admired as well. I heard "one of a kind". People admire how you have others that are jealous or mad at what you do. It's kinda like "ouuu pile 3 has fans"👀

*daily affirmations: Today I am flexible. Today I adapt to changes in my life with an open mind and a positive outlook. Today I have faith. Today I have faith and truly believe that anything is possible.

Pile 4-(Page of swords rx, 5 of swords, 4 of swords, 5 of pentacles, 2 of pentacles, Knight of wands, Ace of wands, The Magician, The Sun, The Lovers rx)

People admire your ability to sniff out the bad in people/situations. You've probably saved others from unfavorable situations. You may like to fight fire with fire in some situations. People really admire your bold and fiery personality. You have a warrior type of energy. It makes me think of Rosie the Riveter. People love how you take care of yourself while still juggling so many responsibilities. You may be in a position where you're closed off to love rn to be more focused on self and what you love most. People wish they could be like that. A lot of people look up to you and want to follow your ideas/what you believe in. People see how much balance you have. Your life is like a beautiful chaos and you handle it so freaking well. It's really admired how you put time into your family and take care of them. This pile gives me rich auntie vibes lol. You really inspire others to do better.

*daily affirmation: Today I will not give in. Today I will not allow negative thoughts or feelings to prevent me from achieving happiness.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

the past is best in the past - CH 1

Word Count - 844

Summary - What happens if after years of hiding Quinn finally finds you.

Warnings - mentions of running from the past but no specifics

Author's Note - I'm gonna be serious with you guys when I say I have no idea what this is and I definitely left it very open ended. If you guys want I can continue this as a little serious vs a blurb which is what it is right now.

Next Chapter

Living in Vancouver was supposed to be a new beginning for you. Vancouver was supposed to be the answer to your nightmares. Vancouver was supposed to be a fresh start, somewhere no one knew you, knew your family, knew your past. Living here since you were 18 in pure bliss of your new identity so imagine your surprise when the boy who was your first love walks into the bar that you work at and he catches you off guard while your in the middle of cashing someone out and trying to grab a new bottle of rum for someones drink they ordered. 

“Y/N/N” Quinn speaks in an unsure tone, as if he’s just seen a ghost. Freezing at the fact someone has called you by a nickname that your brain doesn’t even respond to anymore,in fact, no one has done that in almost 7 years. Turning around you make eye-contact with your Quinn. Quinn who once upon a time was yours you remind yourself but not anymore. 

Squinting your eyes to make sure it isn’t some sick kind of trick your mind is playing on you and that it is in fact Quinn leaning forward almost half over the bar. “Actually it’s just Y/N now. No one calls me that anymore Quinn.” Try to make your voice as flat as possible, as if you aren’t affected by seeing the man in front of you. 

“Right. Sorry - uh - um. What are you doing here?” Quinn wasn’t as good as hiding his emotions about seeing you - who practically is a ghost of his past in front of him after so many years. Suddenly retreating back to the shy nervous boy you knew all those years ago, despite looking so much older now with his 5 o’clock shadow and sharper features. 

“Working Quinn. Now either order something or leave before my boss starts asking questions as to why you aren’t.” Rolling your eyes, as you finish making the rum and coke and walking off to hand it to the middle-age woman who ordered it. Walking back to Quinn it’s as if he has finally processed your words as you give him ‘what the fuck are you gonna do’ look. 

“Right - uh - I’ll have a - uh - miller on draft please.” he asks, his hands going into his front pockets as he bounces on his feet. ‘Somethings never change’ you think to yourself because that was his tell growing up that his anxiety was growing. Part of you hated yourself for being the reason you were giving him anxiety now, none of this was his fault. 

“Here.” As you hand him the beer you just finished pouring. “Are you gonna start a tab or cash out?” you ask looking at him in the eyes for the first time since he called your name, your breath catching. 

“Here tab.” As he hands you his card to keep for the night. “Hey Y/N/N. Sorry Y/N.”

“Yeah Quinn?” your voice is much quieter now as your nervousness is starting to get to you. 

“Why’d you leave me?” His voice breaking at his own question, taking a deep breath to try and keep his emotions at bay. 

“I can’t do this right now at work. But Quinn I never left you, I left that town.” feeling your eyes threaten to spill with tears. 

“But I was in that town.” he argues, his voice defensive, his face becoming hard as the anger is starting to take over as his body works through the floodgates of emotions of seeing you. 

“And I am sorry. But it was killing me being there and I needed to choose myself and I am sorry that wasn’t you. I am. But you deserved better and you still do. I can’t do this. I gotta get back to work. I guess see ya around Quinn.”  Turning around trying to go to the other side of the busy bar where your coworkers are running around each other. 

“Wait how long? How long have you been in Vancouver?” he begs to know the answer. 

Taking a deep breath you decide to tell him the truth because maybe that will help him. Maybe that will help him move on, which you know he hasn’t because Jack still talks to you once a year. He doesn’t know where you live but he calls you on your birthday, and he tells you how everyone is. He told you how Quinn never really moved on, and maybe this terrible ugly truth will help him realize the truth. The one ugly truth you have known since the beginning, someone as good as Quinn Hughes was never supposed to be with someone as terrible and broken as you. Letting your deep breath out that you didn’t realize you were holding you answered, “ Quinn I’ve been in Vancouver since before you were even drafted.” Turning around fully because even if you felt like you deserved it, you couldn’t stomach watching Quinn sit his beer down and walk out of the bar.

[heavyhitterheaux]

The Marriage Pact Part 6

To Love and to Cherish

AN: It's been a while, but here we go!

Synopsis: Jack’s priority is making sure that you're okay despite your protests and wanting him to keep his distance. Life gets harder for him without you, and he soon comes to a realization that this might have to be his new normal

Pairing: Ex-Fiance!Jack Harlow x Ex-Fiancée!Reader

The Marriage Pact Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Jack was in a daze as he took the steps two at a time after grabbing his keys in order to get to his car. All he could do at this point was hope and pray that you and the baby were okay and he couldn't also help but think that this was entirely his fault. If he had simply done what you asked him to do and been honest from the very beginning, more than likely this wouldn't have happened and the two of you would have been in a good place.

Now it seemed like everything was getting worse by the second.

He got to the hospital in less than ten minutes and stopped at the front desk to find out where you were. Once he got to your room, he walked in to see that your eyes were closed and there were two small cuts, one next to your eye and one below it. Other than that you looked to have been perfectly fine which he was more than thankful for.

Hearing his footsteps, you peeked your right eye open and quickly sighed seeing who it was. He was the absolute last person on earth that you wanted to see, but knew that his coming was inevitable.

“Babe…” He started to say as he reached for you before you immediately cut him off.

“I don't want to hear it.”

“Y/N, I don’t care what you want or don't want to hear. I told you that I didn't want you leaving and now look at what happened. I damn near got into an accident myself trying to get to you to make sure that you were okay!” Jack said clearly frustrated about how you were acting towards him.

“Oh, so it's my fault?”

“That didn't come out of my mouth so where did you even get that from?”

“I really do not want to be around you right now. Wasn't me leaving in the middle of your tour not clear enough? Because if not, I can start from the beginning and call off a list of things that you've done to piss me off.”

“I get it. I get that you’re mad at me and for good reason, but I still need to make sure you're okay and did you forget that you're pregnant now? So that means that I now have two people to worry about.”

“How can I forget when I'm literally throwing up all day, every day? Kind of hard not to.”

“I just… wanted to see if you and the baby were okay. What even happened? And you clearly are, since you’re arguing with me.”

“They're fine. Someone ran a red light and hit me and my car is done for. Now you can leave.” You shot back as you turned to your side to face away from him.

“I'm not going anywhere. I don't give a damn how mad you are at me right now, I'm staying with you to make sure you're okay. Despite what you may think right now, I…” He trailed off and you suddenly looked at him because it caught your attention.

“What were you going to say?”

“I'm still trying to wrap my mind around you telling me that I only asked you to marry me out of desperation when I love you and would do anything for you and you know that. Anything you ask of me I do it for you.”

“Except being completely honest with me.”

“I wish that we could start completely over, but what's done is done and I'm sorry that I betrayed your trust. But, baby you have to believe me when I say that you are the only person that I want. Whatever you need me to do to repair our relationship, I'm willing to do it.”

“I… just don't even know what I need you to do at this point. I think as hard as a decision that this may be, I need to take a step back from you and this relationship.”

“You… you can't be serious. You're pregnant!” Jack exclaimed while gesturing to your belly and you looked at him dumbfounded.

“And? Is that supposed to change anything?”

“It changes literally EVERYTHING. Just please let me fix this. I promise-”

You immediately cut him off not wanting to hear another word.

“You have broken literally every single promise that you have made me since we got engaged and I don't think I even know the person standing in front of me right now and you have no idea how much that hurts me.” You quietly told him as you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“Y/N… you aren't about to say what I think you’re about to say because….”

“I'm breaking up with you and whatever this is or was is over. I'm not going to manage you anymore either. Let Neelam do it because I'm done. I'm not competing for a spot in your life anymore.”

“Y/N you don't mean that! You don't have to compete for anything. It's you, it's always been you. Baby, please don't do this. I will literally-”

“Do anything? Jackman, you've done enough. Too much actually. I love you and you know I always will. But I just… for my peace of mind, my heart can't take being with you right now until you get your shit together.”

“So, you don't want to marry me anymore?” Jack asked and you could see the tears in the corners of his eyes. As much as you wanted for things to go back the way that they were, you couldn't.

“I never said that. I think right now that's not the best idea for either of us. We need to be on the same page and right now we aren't.”

“What can I do to get you to change your mind? I… there has to be something.”

“I'm still going to be in your life, I'm not walking away completely. You did get me pregnant after all.”

“But we won't be together?”

You simply shook your head no at Jack and you were determined to stand your ground and not back down. As much as you wanted to forgive him and be wrapped in his arms, you knew that you deserved better and until he was able to give you that, there was absolutely no reason for the two of you to be together.

You had to let him know that this wasn't acceptable anymore and that if he wanted the two of you to be together that something had to give.

“Baby, please.” Jack pleaded with you as a few tears began to fall, but all you did in response was slip off your engagement ring and hold out your hand towards him as hard as it was and waited for him to take it.

Not believing what he was seeing, he simply shook his head.

“It's rightfully yours, so I want you to keep it. You're the one that I bought it for.”

“Please understand that this doesn't mean that I don't love you because that is as far from the truth as ever.” You quietly said as you grabbed his hand to squeeze it and all he did was nod.

“But we cannot be married and our relationship consists of hiding things from one another.” You added and Jack nodded in agreement.

“And I also have to be able to trust you wholeheartedly. That's my biggest thing.” You continued as Jack started making small circles on the back of your hand.

“I promise to give you all the space and time you need.”

It had been weird.

Weird without you being around Jack and you honestly didn't know how to feel.

He had moved around a few tour dates so that he was able to stay with you for a few days despite your protests. However, he wasn't taking no for an answer.

The very next morning after your car accident, you sent Chris a letter detailing your decision of not managing Jack anymore and ultimately leaving Generation Now. It was rushed and could have been written better, but in your mind the quicker that you got it done, the less likely you would change your mind about your decision. Chris was soon blowing up your phone, but you didn't bother answering it because you knew that he was going to try and convince you to change your mind.

Everything would now be on Neelam's shoulders since you were out of the picture. You didn't wish ill of her or that she would fail at her job because at the end of the day, Jack would be affected. As much as you were upset at him because of his actions, you never wanted anything like that to happen.

The last day that he spent with you before flying back to Europe was somewhat awkward. That was a first because this was the person that you spent the majority of your time with since birth and there had never been a dull moment between the two of you.

This was the first time in his career that you wouldn't be with him and he didn't quite know how to feel about it. As he was getting ready to leave, he simply leaned down to kiss your forehead and lightly caressed your cheek since you were sleeping.

He figured that it would be harder for him to leave in the morning so he decided to leave in the middle of the night. It would be harder because he would physically have to say goodbye to you face to face and he wasn't ready for that. But, he did leave a note for you that you would hopefully see once you woke up.

Y/N,

I had to leave when you were sleeping because it would have been ten times harder for me if not. I take full responsibility for what has happened between us and I hope one day that you can forgive me. It's going to be hard not seeing and being around you every day, but I told you that I would give you all of the space and time that you need. I want you to have a healthy pregnancy for our baby and in order for that to happen, I will do anything you ask because stressing you out is the last thing that I want to do. I love you so much and please understand that I never meant for any of this to happen. I want you to be able to trust me and know that you are my priority. I’m going to prove to you that you made the right choice in saying yes to marrying me and I will wait for however long it takes. We’re going to get through this and I’ll text you when I land.

Love, Jack

Two months or so had passed and you were out at lunch with Maggie and she quickly asked how you were feeling seeing as you were now in month four. Jack would be present at every doctor's appointment either in person or on facetime if he wasn't near Louisville. As much as he wanted to cancel the rest of his tour and stay with you, you wouldn't let him. He worked entirely too hard all year to not see the entire thing through. Your belly was small, but there was definitely something there. Jack had sent a text early this morning to check on you and see how you were feeling and you kept it short and sweet.

You weren't mad at him, not anymore.

But he was far from being in your good graces.

Extremely far.

The two of you were discussing plans about the baby and you told her that when the two of you left that you were actually going to go and do a little light shopping as you were probably going to get a few outfits along with some toys knowing that you will get more than enough when the baby shower rolled around.

“Y/N, where's your ring?” Maggie asked you, catching you off guard as you were showing her the theme that you wanted to do for the baby's room.

You glanced down to look at your bare finger and silently cursed to yourself, forgetting to put it on this morning knowing that she was bound to ask questions.

As far as both of your families knew, the wedding was still on even though that couldn't have been further from the truth. Jack pleaded and begged for you to proceed with it, but you wanted nothing to do with him until he got his shit together.

“And don't lie to me.” Maggie added while eyeing you seeing as you still hadn't responded to her.

“Getting married isn't the best idea for us right now.” You quietly said while playing with your bracelet to distract you.

“Since when?” Maggie asked while trying to get down to the bottom of how her future daughter in law was feeling.

“Sometimes the fairytale turns into a nightmare, but luckily I was able to wake up.” You quietly said before taking a swig of your sprite.

“What did my big headed son do?” Was all you heard as a sigh escaped from her.

“It doesn't even matter at this point. But, just know that I had to take a step back from him. Not because I wanted to, because I needed to.”

“Just know that I'm always going to be here for you. No matter what.” She said while grabbing your hand and squeezing it.

“I appreciate that and I'm going to need it more than ever.”

“And why is that?”

“Jack isn't the only one with talent and I'm done managing him and being in the background. It's my turn to do something for myself.”

–

Jack was high key annoyed and he couldn't wait until the tour was over so that he would be able to go home to Louisville and be with you full time. Well not be with you, obviously since you hadn't forgiven him yet, but he would be closer to you than he was at this very moment. He had gotten a week off during his tour and immediately flew back to Louisville to see you, he sent a text first to let you know he was there and if it was okay to come and see you. By then, you had moved back into your condo, not wanting to be around anything that reminded you of Jack, even though that proved to be impossible.

Neelam was doing a terrible job taking over what you used to do and it had Jack stressed to the tenth level. He was just informed that she had double booked him for something…. again. This had to be the third or fourth time and he was tired of it.

She looked just as stressed as he was and he knew it was an adjustment for her now doing this full time, but something had to give.

“I never had this problem when Y/N was here. Neelam, we cannot keep doing this. How am I supposed to be in two places at once?” He quietly said and all she did was sigh.

“Well I was just thrown into this and now I'm completely by myself so give me some grace and have a little patience.” She shot back as she was scribbling down notes for something.

“You weren't thrown into anything, you had a general idea of what to do and what not to do.”

“Well if you don't want me here, call Y/N since she can obviously do my job a lot better than I can.” Neelam replied frustrated at the attitude that Jack was giving her.

“She doesn't want to talk to me or manage me anymore so you're it.” He muttered as he opened his phone to the text thread between the two of you. Talking every day had basically become non-existent, but he still made sure to check on you a few times a week. At this point, he would take anything that he could get because at least you were talking to him.

But he did make sure to tell you that he loved you in one way, shape, or form every day.

Neelam instantly felt bad once Jack came back and didn't have you with him. Suddenly everything was on her and she highly doubted that you would be willing to help her if she asked you.

Jack had been in a depressed state, which was fair given the circumstances, but he definitely made her job harder most days. She knew that he missed you and knew that you in not so many words broke up with him, were pregnant and did not have a plan on getting back with him any time soon.

Thinking that Jack needed a little pick me up and hoping that you would agree to het idea, she had to work up the nerve to call you later once he was on stage.

“I'll do my best to be better, okay? Chris wouldn't have hired me if I couldn't do my job.”

“It's whatever. I'm going to lay down until I have to head to the venue.”

Neelam quickly nodded and used this as an opportunity to call you once Jack was out of earshot.

She was surprised that you picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hey Y/N. It's Neelam.”

“I know, I have caller id. What do you want?” You asked her as you were moving around in your bedroom trying to tidy it up.

“Look, I'm sorry for the way that things went down between us and I overstepped when I shouldn't have.”

“Okay.”

“Um, Jack is just….”

“Just what?” You asked as you stopped in your tracks thinking that something was wrong.

“He needs you, like really needs you. It went from bad to worse, and I just don't know what to do anymore. He barely leaves his bed most days.”

“And what am I supposed to do all the way in Louisville?”

“Well maybe just talk to him? Or even come and see him?”

“And say what Neelam? He made his bed and now he has to lie in it and deal with the consequences. I love him and he knows that I love him, but every time that he has a problem, I cannot always run to him and save the day. He doesn't have much longer and he's just going to have to deal with it as harsh as that may sound.”

“Well can you just think about it? That might be what he needs to finish this out strong.”

“I'll see him once he gets back to Louisville. Talk to you later.”

As Jack was in his hotel room laying down and staring at the ceiling, there was a knock on his door. Removing the comforter from his body, he made his way over to the door and opened it to see Urban staring back at him.

“Uh hey.” Urban quietly said as Jack moved to the side to let him in.

Ever since Jack returned from being with you in Louisville, Urban was trying to be as supportive as he possibly could. He necessarily didn't see this coming the way that everything went down, but he wasn't going to throw it in his best friend's face when he was already not at his best. This what he had been afraid of from the very beginning.

Urban sat down on the couch that was in the far left corner of the room as Jack came and sat next to him.

“What if she changed her mind and doesn't want to marry me anymore?” Jack asked as he broke the silence.

“Did she tell you that?”

“No, but I can't be so sure. I didn't cherish her and I took the love that she has for me for granted. I told her that I would give her as much space and time that she needs, but we're about to have an entire kid and she can barely stand to be in the same room as me.”

“Just give her time. This is Y/N that we're talking about. You know the one who has known you since you were eight days old?”

“As much as I want to, I don't think that giving her time will be enough.”

[upthewitchypunx]

I don't think I have told this whole story before.

stuff about my house, an old abusive relationship, early witchling behavior, and growth...

So, my ex-husband and I bought this house in January of 2001. As soon as I walked into the house I knew it was *my* house, this was way before I started studying witchcraft.

The relationship was emotionally abusive from the beginning but I had no skills or understanding of how to deal with conflict and thought if I just did what he asked it would be alright, but it was never enough. I was always fucking up by doing something I wanted to do that my ex did not want me to do. He's say things like "you are so smart that you can talk yourself into anything and that's why you keep getting confused. So if you just do what I want you won't have problems." or something like that. Like, that just gives you a base level of how twisted my brain was. (there's a digital version of the zine I wrote about it here)

The house had strange spots in it that felt weird and our incongruity seemed to feed it. One of our housemates reported chairs sliding across the floor and things going missing. At one point I moved out then moved back in while we were trying to go to counseling and work things through. We thought a change would be good and we moved into that room the housemate had issues with, stayed 3 nights and revealed to each other that we felt weird and could not sleep, so we moved to a different room.

Counseling didn't work and I eventually found to courage to leave the winter of 05-06, but we still owned a business together and a lot of my things were still in the house. The person he dated after me (we became friends after she experiences some of the same abuse) saw visions of me in the house and I was very angry.

In 2005, before I left and i was sleeping on a mat on the floor of the basement, I started studying witchcraft. Got myself some Cunningham books and felt really silly trying to do rituals and hiding it. In the divorce I lost the business but got the house with idea that I would sell it. I cleaned the whole thing, painted everything, put in new fixtures. Took a punk house and made it into something more friendly. By the time I was done it was the spring of 2007. The house went on the market just as the markets were crashing. Someone was on the hook to buy it and kept it off the market for the full 30 days and by that time the house had lost a lot of value.

Anyway! We decided to move into it it with some friends in October 0f 2007. One of the friends was Wiccan and I was sort of interested in it and went to a few open rituals with her. She was taking a year and a day class and asked her teachers to help cleanse the house before we moved in. I had already stashed a bunch of witchy stuff i bought in the closet that would be my room. We opened all the windows, doors, drawers, and what not. We started at our fireplace and lit incense, flicked consecrated salt water with springs of rosemary and sage from the garden, and chanted. One of the teachers gestured towards the closet I had my newly acquired witchy shit in and asked what was in there. I said nothing and that room wasn't the problem, the room next to it where the chairs had moved was, so the focused on that. I'm still not sure why I didn't explain.

Anyway, at that point our house became the Spiral House and we have not had any of the old garbage that I'm sure was being fed by a shitting relationship. After that I built my own magical system and my own wards that work with the land and the house. I've made a secure home and I do love my house and my neighborhood.

Both houses next to us have been broken in to, but ours has not. I still think it is funny when some people stop at the threshold and I have to invite them in like vampires. lol.

[graysparrowao3]

2024 Writing Reflections

Thank you @little-paperboat, what a nice tag to receive, really interesting to reflect on these questions. I'm not sure who may not have a tag, here are some no pressure ones if you would like to join and an open invitation (no seriously, I really like this one I want to tag everyone lol)💛 @wakacreations @thylyre @faetouchedfool @barbwillbrb @lolliputian

What's been your biggest learning point this past year?

To embrace the joy of writing. This meant trying new things or putting them out there or just writing what spoke to me. Writing "easy" and not worrying about my prose - if I just wanted to write fun dialogue with the same damn dialogue tags, then go for it babe, let those blorbos yap. If I wanted to put in the most cliche, in-your-face metaphor, smack that literary device on the arse and send it out! If I had a short idea that I thought was fun, I could share it as a fic, or a post, or even just a message amongst people who like similar things. The more I embraced the joy of it just for its own sake the less anxious I felt about it.

How has your writing developed this past year?

Writing sexually explicit content. I'm very cautious about the explicit content I consume for my own psychological comfort, and it was quite liberatory to be in control of the writing and know what was going to happen, and definitely allowed my writing to grow in depth, gain a new skill, and explore more heavy and intimate themes.

Bad writing habits?

I get impatient and want to be done with something even when I know the editing isn't quite finished and then spend the next hour frantically making edits after it's uploaded.

Favorite thing you wrote?

I feel like this changes every time I reflect on it, probably because I like them for different reasons.

For now, I'm going to say Part 10, the main "concluding" part of the NB series. I was absolutely exhausted after I wrote it.

I'll also say chapter 10 in The Elturian Prodigy, because in it Rolan begins to figure out the events of Descent into Avernus, and I was proud to be able to come up with how he might do it that didn't seem super obvious but that an intelligent character could reason through.

Biggest win?

Finding support and kindness that uplifted me to such an extent that it has changed the trajectory of my life. I'm part of the many folks who have found their joy and creativity again thanks to fandom writing and the overwhelming and unexpected kindness of people in the online community spaces. I even had some people in real life remember I was trying to write again and ask how it was going and I had to not be a big emotional mess about it. Thank you online writing friends <3

Your favorite words of the year, aka the words you check each chapter for, making sure you didn't repeat them 788 times?

Everyone is always breathing in various ways. Lots of deep breaths, huffing, snorting, air catching in throats. Or chuckling in various dry, wry, ways. Or brows doing various things; raising, creasing, cocking.

This is a ridiculous sentence, but I had to take a moment in the middle of the NB series and check I wasn't overdoing twat, bastard, and feck and turning it into a caricature. (There's a part where Rugan says "Every other word out of your mouth is 'feck this' or 'bastard that'" which was absolutely me calling myself out lol).

Goals for the new year?

I think I responded to this elsewhere, but in this moment I am thinking...

Just don't stop reading and writing, keep practicing and growing.

Always remember the kind words of internet friends that have made you have faith in yourself.

Keeping working on the ongoing WIPs.

I think, if I'm being honest, I would really love to finally get something original self-published or close to it by the end of 2025. As the saying goes, the best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago, but the second best time is now.

What are you excited for in the new year?

Well I'm in the middle of a couple of interviews, so getting hired would be good because life has thrown a lot around recently that won't be letting up any time soon. Fingers crossed.

I got some books for Christmas and my anniversary before that I'm looking forward to reading. Just finished the First Law trilogy.

Getting through some more of my fic WIPs and moving towards completion of those projects.

Some more cheeky tags because this is a great tag game if you are interested @vera-king-hrfl @beesht @ashprince-of-bel-air @alpydk @dutifullylazybread

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole if I start hooking up with my hook-up's friend?

Some background info is necessary here. I'm aromantic and I've always been completely open about that and as upfront about what a relationship with me will (and, more importantly, won't) entail. I met this particular guy on a dating website like OKCupid or something like that, I don't remember exactly which one. We got along and were attracted to each other so I sat him down and had my usual talk with him about what he could expect and what he should never expect and whether or not that was a relationship he was okay with having. He said yes, so we started doing basically a FWB thing.

He's incredibly hot and we are very compatible sexually (which is honestly not super common for me tbh lol). The problem is, he often gets clingy and weepy and complains to me about how lonely he is and that he really wants a romantic relationship, complete with things about how no one will ever love him and those types of sayings. I've talked to him about it a few times and asked if he was sure he wanted to keep doing this with me when I will never be able to meet that need. We're also not exclusive at all, so I usually respond to this kind of thing by encouraging him to keep seeing other people/keep putting himself out there/etc and hyping him up and stuff. Every time we talk about it he says he's good to go, that he totally understands my aromanticism and he won't try to push for romance from me, and like I said it's kind of difficult for me to find people who also want the sex I want (I guess I'm kind of kinky and a stone top which in my experience a lot of guys are not into idk) and especially to find people who are interested in sex and dating with no actual romantic feelings or intent. So I've been sticking with him even though he keeps bringing this up and kind of (seemingly) implying that he wants things from me I've told him repeatedly I can't give. I don't want to hurt his feelings by still sleeping with him if he wants love, but I'm basically operating on the assumption that he's a big boy who can make his own decisions and I've been honest with him and understanding, at least as far as I'm concerned.

That's the backstory, now we reach the issue I'm actually asking about. A few days ago, maybe as an early birthday present for me or maybe just coincidentally, this guy had a friend over at the same time as me and we ended up having a threesome. It was great! I really liked the other person involved and we were all compatible and had a lot of fun. They gave me their number on my way out.

So I've been texting with this person, that my long term (I guess, depending on your definition of "long term") hook-up introduced me to via a threesome, and they have asked me if I want to hook up again with just them. Which I totally do. I know I wouldn't be an asshole to start seeing them in addition to the first guy because we're not exclusive and never have been, and I've made myself clear from the beginning that we never would be. My question is would I be the asshole if I started seeing this person that he introduced me to via a threesome, and also stopped having sex with him (I would be open to still being friends who don't have sex, but somehow I doubt he would be very interested in that).

The thing is, this new person is also aromantic, so I know that a non-romantic sexual relationship that stays non-romantic would actually for sure be okay with them. I wouldn't have to worry a) about hurting their feelings because they want something from me I can't give, or b) them repeatedly implying they want more or thought I could change my mind eventually or whatever. But... It just seems like it might be a bit of a dick move when he introduced us for group sex and then to... cut him out of the group, I guess.

So... would I be the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[laurabenanti]

Duplicate Frame Deletion: A Likely Unnecessary Tutorial

So… you updated to MacOS Sonoma, and–while it is amazing in many regards for photoshop things–it is a dang bummer and mood killer if you use MPV. However, after slamming my head into a wall trying to change the code on my own, I realized there is a much, much simpler solution to this.

In this tutorial, I will be showing you all how to delete duplicate frames from your gifs, with two options:

duplicate finder

within photoshop

Under the cut because pictures are a visual learner’s best friend!

A quick note:

MPV is odd with this. I’ve not had to do this on 4k capping, but have had to on anything under that. I don’t know the full reasoning, but it mostly looks to be something with the way it is reading frame rate. I know it’s in the code, but could not pinpoint it myself, and these were the only tricks that worked. If you find a better solution, please let me know! It has been rough, otherwise.

Step 1: Cap in MPV as normal

Now, this may be obvious, but make your caps in MPV. For a full tutorial on this, I highly recommend this one by kylos. The only difference between our software and their suggestion is going to be using the newest version of MPV (.0.36 at the time of this), and not the older. This is because there is an issue with MacOS Sonoma and older versions of MPV that prevent it from opening for… Some reason.

Step 2: Make sure you have your caps

I recommend moving your caps to whatever folder you like for your own ease of use. My biggest rec is to have it in its own folder, with no older folders within the folder. Not really a requirement, but in my mind, it makes the process faster (only true depending on number of files in other folders). You should have something like this (I am doing a scene from TWOT, as it’s one I’ve tested this method on a few times in several instances):

Once there, it’s time for the line split. I recommend option 1 the most (it’s faster, IMO), but again, this is a two option thing.

Option 1: Duplicate File Finder

So, duplicate finders are what they sound like. They are pieces of software that can be used to scan your device (or specific sections of said device), for duplicate files. It does not matter the title of the file, if the system reads it as a copy, it will find it.

There are a number of varieties for this, paid and free. I will not lie, the one I use is a paid version, because I had a huge issue with duplicate files taking up space when I moved to a new device. This also helps a lot with cloud file keeping, in my opinion. But that is beside the point.

This is Duplicate File Finder Pro, which I got for other reasons, but has been very useful since this became an issue. The free version is sufficient for removing duplicate files found in folders, and that is why I still suggest it. You only need to get the pro if you have other intentions.

Now, onto the next step…

Step 3: Drag and drop the folder

With our folder full of caps, we simply drag and drop it into the application to begin.

Step 4: Click “Find duplicates” and watch the pretty graph roll.

Step 5: Select the duplicate images

You can see here it found the duplicates.

Now, I could go through by hand and click them, but… that’s a lot of time I don’t want to waste. I let it auto select them instead (you can tweak the settings for auto-select, but this is not that tutorial).

Step 6: Select review & remove, complete!

Wham bam! You’re completely set and good to go. Gif as normal~ (all final results at bottom)

Now, of course, maybe you don’t want a duplicate remover. Understandable, so what then? Well…

Option 2: Photoshop & the Changing Frame rate

So, this one is a little more technical. I suggest basic giffing and Photoshop knowledge before attempting.

Step 3: Import folder as you normally would

I believe this works as it would for import video, but I don’t want to say that and be wrong. But load your files in and you’ll be here:

Now create video timeline, make frames from layers, yada yada (kylos’ guide is very good with this if you need help, it’s the same that was linked at the beginning of this). You’ll now be here:

And the actual part of the tutorial you all came here for...

Step 4: Change the frame rate

So, in the bottom, next to the mountains for zooming in on the timeline, you’ll see it reads “30.00 fps.” We need to change this to 60. How? Easy! Click the three lines circled here:

Then click “Set Timeline Frame Rate…”

A little box will pop up, change the 30 to 15 (dropdown or typing, it works the same) and click “OK.”

Your timeline will now be cut in half for length. That’s OKAY. DO NOT PANIC.

(Optional) Step 5: Double Checking

Click play on your gif, and you’ll notice it is no longer duplicate framed! To verify, let’s convert back to frames, just to see…

And it did, success! So make the rest of your gif as normal.

Your final results for the gif will be the following, with the gifs all labeled on what option was taken (or not). These were cropped for uploading and sharpened because of how I am. No coloring applied.

If anything was confusing, please don't hesitate to reach out! I'm happy to help in any way I can on this. My ask is always open. Happy Giffing!

[sexyandhedonistic]

Faith (and feeling) is the secret: A small success story and what you can learn from it.

Hello, my loves. It’s been a while since I’ve made any sort of post on this blog. Today I’m going to be bringing you one of my many success stories. As someone who’s very private, I’m always skeptical about talking about any of them as they tend to be quite personal and oftentimes require me to disclose details to provide context. Even in this one, I’ll be keeping it occasionally vague and change a few insignificant details to preserve that privacy. Nevertheless, I feel good about sharing this one because I remember drawing so many comparisons and turning to a lot of what Neville himself said in his lectures and I applied what I’ve learned from beginning to end. Anyway, let’s get to the story:

This happened some time ago, it doesn’t really matter when but I had found out that a favorite artist of mine was having a concert after tickets had started going on sale. The concert was in one of my favorite cities which was a bit of distance from me so I was open to going, but not particularly compelled to. When I first heard about it, I looked up how much of the seating was occupied just to have an idea of how popular this concert was. 

I couldn’t even see the seating chart because it would halt me with a “there are no seats available at this time”. Knowing the law, if I really did want to go, what I had just read meant nothing in the slightest, so I wasn’t discouraged. I continued to check from time to time to see if anything had changed and I would bump into the same exact notice. But again, I was still open to going and what I had read held no value and my reaction was no different than if I had seen a stadium full of blue sections. It didn’t matter one bit. This went on for two months.

During that time, I found out that some of my friends were going, so now I was more interested in going as well. I hadn’t particularly assumed I would go throughout, I was always thinking of the idea rather than from it. So, although for the most part I had no solid desire to actually be there up until now, I still knew that if I wanted to, I could be. Not once through this entire time did I feel stressed nor desperate. I always had faith.

It was the month of the event and I still didn’t have seats, and then they announced a giveaway which I entered. The span to apply was approximately two weeks and they would announce a winner a week before the event. That very morning, I was still hopeful about winning. I felt good, I kept thinking about what it would be like to be in one of my favorite cities hanging out with my friends and seeing one of our favorite artists. And then I decided to induce the state akin to sleep to really place myself into that state of consciousness.

I would like to mention something very briefly here that I’m not sure whether or not I have previously brought up, but whenever I imagine during the state akin to sleep, I see it as death. What I mean by that is that I am conscious of being something I don’t want to be before I induce the SATS, and the goal should be to come out of that imaginal act conscious of being something else. That’s how you should always approach the state akin to sleep. Die to the old state and identify yourself with the new one. 

 Having already been in Los Angeles on numerous occasions, I drew the feeling from that. I recalled what the weather was like at that time of year, I remembered all of the landmarks I would pass by, I thought about how happy I would be to see my friends, how excited I would feel to see one of my favorite artists perform, and I mentally placed myself in that city. I was no longer sitting in bed within four walls miles and miles away. I was in Los Angeles. I was surrounded by the hot weather telling my friends how happy I was to see them and I heard them say it back to me. I saw the lights and the streets, I felt the butterflies of making my way to the venue and finding my seat. I took all of those feelings and really let myself sit and become fully drenched in them until I felt happy to be there. (And I remembered to think from the end and not of the end. Remember that this is key. If I simply thought about being there, it would create no shift in consciousness.) I kept focusing on that feeling, I didn’t have a particular scene in mind, I was simply focusing on the senses and the emotions of being there. I felt happy that I was able to make it, I was thinking about how glad I felt for not taking no for an answer and the memory of the present moment of me inducing the SATS was something I had done last week.

I wasn’t keeping track of the time I was in that state, but it was roughly an hour. I hadn’t slept and the sun was starting to rise when I pulled myself out. I felt satisfied with my prayer and I reminded myself that if for whatever reason I felt uncertain I could simply do the same, so I felt good. I wasn’t anxious about whether or not I had done enough because I knew praying and accepting that it was happening was all I had to do and soon enough I’d be making my way to LA. 

Then I went to sleep. The winners were to be announced in a few hours and shut my eyes assuming I would wake up to the good news. However, I didn’t win the giveaway, but I was a runner up and I was given access to purchase tickets at a heavily discounted price, which in itself was a good start to my trip to LA. I didn’t have a particular seat in mind when I saw myself there, but I did want to be close and I was (4th row from the stage). A seat that would’ve cost me about $230 went down to $60, so I snagged it. If you’re familiar with the You Are In Barbados story, this was my “Good news, Mr. Goddard” moment. It was happening.

I had my trip, I booked my flights, I prepared everything and within a week I was on my way to see so many of my favorite people in one city. I was ecstatic the entire time leading up to it and I enjoyed myself to death. The concert was on a weekend and I was back home by the time the week started. It was Tuesday and I was checking my inbox and for some reason I felt like going through my spam folder. And I came across an email that stood out to me.

It was an email from the event telling me that one of the winners hadn’t responded so I was next in line and I had won two tickets plus the opportunity to meet them. Now, I admit that I did think the giveaway was going to be the how in my story. When I induced the state akin to sleep, I didn’t visualize myself winning, I visualized myself being in LA because that was the actual end. What I most wanted was to attend the concert so that was the end I was living in. Yet, that email served as a reminder that if I really did want to meet them, I very much could have. That would’ve been the part where Abdullah would’ve told me, “Who said you are only attending? You are in Los Angeles and you met them.” If I had that desire in my heart, I would’ve remembered to remain faithful to that even after the giveaway had ended. Remember that it always comes down to persistence and brazen impudence when it comes to whatever it is that you really want. Know what you want and reject anything that isn’t it. Nothing more, nothing less.

I hope you guys enjoyed this little success story of mine and you can learn a thing or two from it. I know I’m always here providing advice to the best of my ability and this particular success story attests to the fact that I practice what I preach to you all. I’ve also told you guys before that when you all start having successes of your own, your faith in the law will only grow more and more. I speak from experience! 

So my advice to you from this story, as I always have advised:

Know what you want. Have a clear idea of your desire.

Facts aren’t important. The 3D isn’t important. 

Go straight to the end. You don’t need to become conscious of things in steps. (This is why I focused on being in LA and not on winning the giveaway.)

Have faith. Always walk by faith and not by sight.

The takeaway is to not worry about the how in the slightest, only concern yourself with what the end of your wish fulfilled looks like. It is yours if you truly want it. Focus on the end only, not anything in between. If you know circumstances don’t matter and you are limitless, that you don't need to worry about the how, the when, the why or the if, the only relevant question you should be asking yourself is the following:

Do you want it?

[ladystormcrow]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Thank you so much for the tag, @les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques, and I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to answer it! I've been in a writing slump for the last few months (for both personal and external reasons), but I've started writing again recently (trying to get back into my old groove of at least 500 words a day), so I feel like I can answer this in good conscience.

How many works do you have on AO3?

Nine at the moment, plus four others on FFN that I still haven't transferred over.

What's your total AO3 word count?

208,006

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Katabasis

Trio Sonata

Mine

I'll Keep You

Imprints In Time

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do try to, though sometimes I fall behind or choke on what to say; I feel bad when I find myself struggling to respond to a long, thoughtful comment with anything better than "thank you, glad you enjoyed!". I realize it's never too late, though, so I'm hopeful I'll be able to catch up on responses in the future!

(The only time I've ever deliberately not responded to comments is when I was aware that the person who sent them was a piece of shit who I didn't want to engage with, but thankfully that's only happened once or twice. Very much a "your approval fills me with shame" moment for me.)

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Probably Imprints In Time. It's a backstory fic for Madame Giry that ends with her estranged from her family and culture, recently widowed, and on the verge of being forced to retire from the ballet career she's worked so hard for, and thus deciding to help Erik make his start as the Opera Ghost (which we the audience know is going to end in more tragedy).

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

It's technically not finished yet (there's still an epilogue chapter to come), but I'd say Katabasis has a quite a happy ending: the dead have been sent to a peaceful rest, the exiled urSkeks have saved their planet and will be able to change their society for the better (and keep other urSkeks from harming Thra in the future), and Jen and Kira have gone from being the last of their kind to the adoptive parents of several dozen Gelfling children who will be a new beginning for their species.

Do you write crossovers?

I'm very much open to doing so, but so far I haven't, mostly because the fandoms I currently write for don't lend themselves well to combining universes. The closest I've come is the Les Miserables reference I included in Chapter 5 of Trio Sonata (or the SWAT Kats/Redwall fic I started but never finished when I was 15, but the less said about that, the better!)

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really, no. The closest I've come is someone who complained they were disappointed that Agony and Ecstasy featured skekSa as the one topping during sex; I simply added a tag that made that clear and left it at that.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I didn't used to, but I've gotten more confident about both writing it and sharing it publically over the years (my experiences in the Tumblr RP scene helped a lot with that). The first fic I ever posted where sex was explicit rather than implied was Mine, which was a pretty standard wedding night consummation story (well, except for the part where one of the pair is an elderly hermaphroditic bird alien), but after that, I branched out quite a bit with Agony and Ecstasy (I'm pretty vanilla in my own sex life, so writing about characters having a BDSM session with cutting, bloodplay, and other kinks that I'm not personally into while still making it appealing to an audience was an interesting challenge).

Currently, Trio Sonata is my first experience of trying to weave sex into the plot of a longer story, rather than just a standalone smut fic, and I'm really trying to make sure that the smut is in character and serves to move the plot forward and develop the characters (not that I've got anything against smut for smut's sake, it's just not what I want to write for this story).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not that I'm aware of.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't, though I've helped other writers with brainstorming and suggestions before (and they've helped me in return). I'm open to it, though.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oh man, don't make me choose! I'm pretty flexible when it comes to shipping as long as it's written well, so there are a lot that I like, even multiple ones with the same character. But if I have to narrow it down, I will say that I still love Megamind/Roxanne Ritchi after 14 years since the movie, and I also don't forsee my love for Erik/Christine/Raoul fading any time soon.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I started my own fanficverse for Megamind in 2011 with Life Is What Happens, and got partway through the sequel, The Storm and the Stars, before I stopped writing.

I always had meant to come back to that ficverse, but I now realize that's probably never going to happen, for two reasons. The first is that my own political and social views have changed enough since then that I'd have to completely rewrite parts of the story (for example, one of the main OCs is a former police officer, and I wasn't a believer in ACAB back then). The second is that the Megamind Rules TV series exists now, and both fills in the timeline when my fics took place and includes a number of the same key story elements, so I feel like there isn't really room for my fics in the fandom sandbox anymore (especially since most of my friends are fans of the TV show, and I really am happy that they enjoy it, even if it's not to my taste).

What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I'm pretty good at descriptions, especially giving a strong sense of characters and places in just a few lines, and coming up with interesting plots.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not so good at character introspection, especially angst and romance. I worry about bogging down the flow of the story and falling into telling rather than showing, and that it won't be interesting or believable to the audience.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it can be effective if it's just one or two lines, especially if it helps convey character or setting, but it should be used sparingly and only if you're sure of the translation.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I've toyed with the idea of writing an AU for Imprints In Time where Erik doesn't leave France after his fight with Antoinette, and they repair their friendship and eventually become a couple, which changes a lot of events that would otherwise have happened in canon (no Persia, for starters, unless it's under very different circumstances). I've also pondered an alternate OT3 involving Pharoga plus Madame Giry, but that's probably never going past pondering.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

At this point, it's a tie between Katabasis and Trio Sonata. I've mentioned it before, but they have a lot of the same basic story elements (hero and villain have to team up against an outside threat, which leads to them bonding and the villain becoming a better person), and since those are some of my favorite tropes, it's probably inevitable they'd be my favorite fics.

I shall tag: @cornistasiathecoblinking, @chaifootsteps, @locksnek, @musicalhell, and @flagbridge, plus anyone else who'd like to answer!

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Infatuation Rewritten - Chapter 2

Joe Goldberg x Reader (ft. Love Quinn)

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Summary: Love's longtime friend moves back to LA. Fortunately, Joe's never had too much trouble adapting.

Warnings: NONE HERE.

I'm very sorry this took 3 MONTHS to post... a lot has happened. Hopefully the future will have faster updates. Also, this part is pretty short and I don't really like it, but I I'm reminding myself that it's all just building up. Until next time!

It’s noon when I’m buzzed up to the apartment. Love caught you up on the last minute changes. Still, you open the door with hesitancy and step back without once looking me in the eye. I peel my boots off, taking my time to really look around the living room. There’s nothing of interest here anymore, now knowing this isn’t your place and these aren’t your things. When I make my way to the corner table by the couch, I pick up a frame. Another picture without you in it.

“She had a lot of friends,” You sniff. I turn to look at you. “Left almost everything to them, actually.”

“What a great mom…” I comment and set the picture back in place. “What did she leave you?”

You look around the apartment, gesturing about. I look too, but nothing else catches my eye. Where are your things?

“Garbage.” You respond. You rub your nose then, when I don’t respond, and sniff again. You still don’t meet my eyes.

“This apartment, too?” I inquire, but you shake your head.

“In a way… she left me with the bill. I can’t afford a place in LA on my own, and It’s costing me money I don’t have for this place to sit unoccupied. So, I’m clearing it for new tenants before the month’s over.”

I rub the back of my neck. Your mom sounds like a bitch, but I’d like to stay focused and get the real job here out of the way. “Should we get started?”

“Yeah, uh… First things first,” You start, pointing behind you toward the kitchen. “We have to throw everything edible in the cupboards out.”

“Everything?”

“Everything. It all has to go. I already cleared the fridge this morning.”

You walk around the kitchen island, bend down to pull out a drawer, and come back to the surface with a few plastic garbage bags. I take one, and we begin.

The cupboards themselves seem to be in good condition, until I pulled one open and the knob comes right off. We laughed. You reassured me it had happened to you too, and that you simply pushed it back into place. After throwing the few cereal boxes left inside into my garbage bag, I did the same. The inside of these cupboards are dusty, and the small black pellets left behind look more like mouse shit than they do crumbs. I’ll have to tell Love I was right about the rodents.

I reach over and take a metal tin. Something jostles inside as I bring it to my ear. You peer over from your corner and jump.

“Not that,” you say as you reach over to take the tin out of my hands. “Love made those.”

“And your mom’s been keeping them in her cupboard?”

“No, of course not,” You roll your eyes and start prying it open. “Love gave them to me the other day. They're homemade cookies.”

When the cover comes off, I see six golden cookies spread out. They look good.

I look up at you, wondering.

“You can take one, I don’t mind.” You say.

I reach in and take a cookie, bringing it between my teeth not a moment sooner. I bite.

The flavour is sweet and tangy. Lemon, I recognised it quickly… You can really taste Love in them. But, I can’t help but sulk a little; she doesn’t make me cookies, I think sourly.

“Good, right?” you ask, taking one for yourself before shutting the tin. You split a piece off and pop it into your mouth. I watch the action, chewing away at my bite. I feel cold. Upset. I’m growing bitter at the thought of Love making treats specially for you. I’m jealous, I know. Jealousy and I know each other remarkably well.

Once the cupboards are empty of the numerous snack boxes your mom seemed to endlessly collect, we tie the garbage bags and bring them to the front door.

We spend the rest of the afternoon wiping the surfaces clean, scrubbing the tiles, and making sure anyone could feasibly lick spilt milk off the fucking floors.

As you scrub away at the floors with a brush, I wipe down the inside of the cupboards – rat shit and all. We’ve engaged in small talk throughout – mostly on the subject of your family life since the split. You lived with your dad up until recently. He never remarried.

“How’s Love?” You suddenly ask me. You hadn’t seen her since the dinner… probably the longest you’d gone since the ten years before. I groan, but you don't hear it.

“She’s been good,” I say. “She’s out of town with Forty today.”

“And… you?”

“What about me?” I smile, looking down as you pause your scrubbing. You don’t look up at me as you spray tile cleaner down.

“How are you?”

“I’m good, I’ve just been helping you tidy the place up.”

I watch you smile at that.

“And I appreciate it,” You huff, grabbing a rag to wipe the suds. You look up at me then, and I watch as your eyes shy away the moment you notice me staring.

“I think I’m done with the cupboards.” I state.

“Right,” You acknowledge. “I’m just finishing up here and I think we can call it a day.”

By the time we’re done, two full garbage bags have been tossed in the communal bin outside. The kitchen’s done, clean, as pristine as any of LA’s cheapest apartments can get. I stretch my back as I check my phone. Already 4 o’clock.

“Hey, Will?” You ask as I crack my knuckles and make my way to the front door. “Do you have somewhere you need to be right now?” I turn to look at you. Your lips are tucked in, eyes curious.

“I don’t have to be anywhere in particular, no.” I answer, crouching to slide on my boots. “Why?”

“I was thinking of treating you to lunch.” You say, chewing on your lip as you tear your eyes away. “To thank you for helping out. Would you be okay with that?”

I’m surprised as I tie up my laces unsteadily. “Yeah, sure. I don’t think I’d mind that – Isn’t it already 4 pm?” You could almost make me blush.

“A late lunch, then. Calling it dinner just sounds like a date.” You say, laughing your comment off with a wave. I nod slowly, thinking. Just a treat… and I have nothing waiting for me at home.

“Sure, sounds fine to me.”

“Perfect, let me grab my purse.”

—

We’re seated in the far back of a dingy diner. The waitress sets down two glasses of water before leaving us alone with the menu. You drop your familiar jingling bag right by your side in the booth and lift the glass to your lips. Your hands set it down a moment later, my eyes continue to linger on them while you talk.

“So, how did you and Love meet?”

“Anavrin, can you believe it?” I say playfully.

“Really?” You respond with surprise as you lift your arm, drop your elbow on the table, and rest your chin on your palm. “How did that go?”

If I said I followed her around for a while, got a job where she worked, and she still made a move on me first, would you believe me? I think I’ll just skip to the good part.

“Okay, so… She picks up this peach, and–” Before I can finish, you put your hand out to stop me.

“Wait, let me guess…” You hold off for a few seconds and raise your brows. “She said it looked like a butt?”

“Actually, she asked me if it looked like a butt.” I reply snarkily and you roll your eyes.

“Same difference.” You say as you wave me off.

“Oh no…” I feign a ground-breaking realisation, my gestures playful as I can’t help but smile. “Don’t tell me I fell for an overly used pick-up line…”

“Ah, I really couldn’t tell you how often she used it, if at all,” You take a deep breath before continuing with a smile. “but I remember we had an ongoing joke like that ��� about peaches and butts.”

“I guess you’ve left an impact.”

“I guess so.” You look around, suddenly sheepish as you take a sip of your water, again. You change the subject. “Know of any good bookstores around here? I’ve been gone for so long that any of the places I can recall have been bought out and replaced.”

“Well, there’s Anavrin. Where I work. With books.” We both crack a smile again and you nearly laugh in my face. I raise my brows and slowly nod my head to really hammer in that I wasn’t kidding.

“Right. I’m not looking for vegan cookbooks or autobiographies.” Cute, you’re trying to be funny.

“Oh, come on!” I grip my chest and feigned a painful jab to my heart. “I’m sure I can get you the book you’re looking for. If it isn’t in stock, I can order some copies.”

“You’d do that for me?” You tilt your head in such a curious way and I feel myself getting warm under my shirt.

“Of course! So, what’re you looking for?”

“I – Nothing yet… I’ll let you know. I’m working on a project.”

“Ooh – If you don’t mind me asking, what’s this project for?”

“Hmm… mostly myself. I don’t have a job so I spend my hours reading and writing.”

“You can make a career out of writing.” I assure you.

“But then it wouldn’t be fun! The moment I have a deadline, I don’t want to work anymore.” You pout.

“I take it you have money set aside?”

“Yes – kind of. I had money set aside, but…” You look away, clicking your tongue as you think. Your lips part for a moment, as though you were ready to say something, but you hesitate. “Yeah. Just a bit.”

“I don’t mean to pry, and – and you can just tell me you don’t want to answer anything – were you close with your mom? Before everything, I mean.”

“No,” You laugh while lacking the joke. “She never liked me. I think she just never wanted kids. Maybe she felt threatened by having a daughter. And, actually, as a testament of her hatred, she left me with nothing but the overpriced apartment.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I frown.

“Oh, trust me when I say you’re already doing more than enough. I’ll be out of there sooner than later, and I won’t have to worry about payments weighing me down.”

You lift your arm and your hand falls to the single laminated menu between us. You look through it slowly. I watch you, and I feel pity.

“You said you like writing,” I begin, opting to change the subject.

“Correct.” You reply robotically before looking up at me.

“Have you ever thought about publishing any of your work?”

“Maybe one day. It’s never been a priority of mine, but I’ve thought about it before.”

“Do you have anything I could read so far? Might be able to give some pointers, advice… you name it.”

“Of course! But – but I’d prefer to read it over again beforehand. I have a strange process; it may not even be comprehensible in its current state.” You laugh and I can’t help but chuckle along.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Oh ease up on it! I can see why Love likes you so much,” You say. “You’re very supportive.”

I smile at the comment, feeling content. You’re not so bad yourself.

“Know what you’re getting?” I suddenly ask, bringing both of our attention back to the menu. You bounce and look down.

“I was thinking about a club sandwich,” you say, “What about you?”

“I mean, I haven’t looked at the menu yet.” I laugh and realization hits you. The menu is spun to face me as your finger hits the page.

“This is what I’m getting – the club sandwich,” Your finger slides down to the selection below it. “They also have a BLT option,” and below that, “mac and cheese, corn dogs…” and as you continue to talk, my mind begins to blank. My eyes dawdle on the movement of your hands, following where they had been on the sheet as your words drift off into nothing, but your voice remains. I’m thinking about the softness of the way you’re speaking to me, serenely, and I’m entranced by the sound.

“Do you know what you’d like?” I’m snapped out of my daze, my thoughts. My eyes shoot up to look at you and you tilt your head with the question still fresh in the air. I blink.

I… like……

I look back down and point at something simple. Quite frankly, the options at local diners tend to be, for a lack of a better term, just as expected.

“Fries?” You ask and I blink a few more times. I wasn’t really thinking, actually.

“Yeah, I mean. What a great lunch, right?” You laugh and ask me again, but I reassure you a plate of fries is just fine.

When the waitress makes her rounds, we place our orders. She refills our waters and we meld back into simple conversation.

As we spend the next few hours talking, even when our food arrives. I watch you pick at your plate. You’re slow to eat because you talk so much. You’re opening up like never before, and I’m slipping into a familiar feeling I hadn’t expected. When you finish your fries, you ask. “Can I pick off your plate?” and I let you because you gave me half of your sandwich to try. I watch the way my fries slip past your lips and, when you swallow, I watch that too. I swallow too, too.

I need to fuck Love.

—

“Hey, Will,” you inquire on our walk back to the apartment. The chit chat was nice, even if the lunch was unappetizing. Fries alone don’t sate much. “Would you be able to stop by tomorrow? To help a bit more?”

“Well,” I laugh. “I work tomorrow,”

“Right,” You close your eyes and tuck your lip, nodding. “I just–”

“I can come over on my next day off, if you really need the extra set of hands.”

“That would be really helpful,” You sigh contently, shoulders dropping. “Thank you.”

“How does Tuesday sound? You think you’d be free then?”

“Oh, I’m free,” You assure me. “I don’t have much else to do in the city.”

Your phone rings – the sound like the chime of a bell – and you fish it out of your purse to answer it.

“It’s Love,” You tell me as you accept the call and put it to your ear. We stop our promenade and you turn away, no doubt to feel like you have a crumb of privacy.

“Hey, Lovey,” You sigh. I can practically hear the smile on your lips as you step around distractedly. I rub my nose and watch you. I can’t hear Love from this distance.

“Actually, I – I already ate,” You laugh, pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear as you turn around. You’re watching your shoes as you languidly pace, suddenly unaware of the world moving around you as you listen to the call. I take hold of your forearm and pull you to the side when someone walks by. You’re a little surprised at first, but nod at me appreciatively. I can hear Love from here, beside you, tucked closer to the buildings and out of the way of passersby.

‘With Will?’ I hear Love say.

“Yeah, with Will. It was a, uh… a thank you for helping out. He didn’t have to, you know? So…”

‘See! He’s not so bad,’ When you glance up at me, I move to look around, observing the sidewalk across the street. I can’t help a smile from creeping up.

“You’re right,” You huff. “But, um… We’ll talk again later, okay? Will and I are still walking back to the apartment.”

’Sure thing, babe,’ I bite the inside of my cheek, but my smile doesn’t falter. ‘Lunch tomorrow?’

“Yeah, tomorrow. Hope things went well with Forty today,”

When you hang up, I turn my head to look at you. You look forward, defeated.

“Good?” I ask.

“Yeah, good.” You reply, already continuing our path back to the apartment. I follow while you lead ahead.

“I’m not so bad, eh?” I throw in, and you glance behind to roll your eyes at me. I laugh and catch up to you, nudging your shoulder. You huff and finally laugh along too.

"Not so bad at all," You shake your head and huff.

We part ways in front of the building, exchanging lazy waves as you hop up the steps.

"See you on Tuesday," I say.

I watch you the way I had that other night, clumsily twisting your key, pushing on the door too soon. When the door's unlocked and finally opens, you turn to look at me one last time, waving again.

"Tuesday!" You confirm, slipping through the crack.

I turn away, making my way back to my car.

[lovelytsunoda]

holding out for a hero ( iii ) // platonic! mercedes amg

summary: a holiday party at marcus armstrong's house brings changes to y/n's life, in the form of both a british f2 driver she'd rather not show her face around ever again, and a very awkward milestone.

pairing: platonic!mercedes amg f1 x reader, brief olli caldwell x reader

warnings: first kisses, a slew of emotions i don't want to unpack, it's going to be cute and angsty all at the same time, self-deprecation, basically the same warnings as the rest of the series tbh, mentions of an alcohol allergy, paul being a little shit

author's note: this is lowkey based on the story of my first kiss from last december . . . i actually hated it all and we're back to the drawing board on that whole dating thing. i fear my standards may be too high.

this series would make such a good sitcom tbh

"marcus, for the last time, i don't do parties." y/n insisted, frowning at the face on her phone as she stride out of the mercedes building in brackley. "i don't care that i already know most of the people who are going to be there, or that the guys are bringing their girlfriends. the answer is no."

"come on!" marcus armstrong begged on the other end of the facetime call, laughing as the young intern clumsily zipped up her tommy hilfiger jacket, hiding the bottom half of her face under the collar as the wind whipped her face, flakes of snow beginning to fall from the winter sky. "it's not as bad as you're thinking it's going to be. it's literally just at my house, my younger sister is going to be there."

y/n snorted. "come on, armstrong. if you think telling me that your teenaged sister is going to be at the party is a drawing factor, you need to reevaluate things in your life. besides, liam is going to be there and it's going to be ultra painful to see him and his girlfriend being all loved up."

silverstone had been a huge knock to y/n y/l/n's self-confidence. it had taken a lot for her to allow herself to be that vulnerable. to dance in front of the rowdy group of boys, to let her guard down long enough to meet new people, to have a good time.

to tell liam lawson that she thought he was cute, just for liam to shatter her heart into a million peices without even meaning or trying to.

god, she wished she could stop being so sensitive sometimes.

she hadn't been to another race since. she also hadn't spoken directly to liam, occasionally being looped into things on the group chat. as far as she was aware, red bull were shipping him off to japan with cem bolukbasi to run a superformula test.

she was heading back to her car now, the cold air turning her fingers numb as she clutched her phone, digging in her pocket for her car keys.

"i'm not doing it, armstrong."

"and why the bloody hell not? you had a great time in sliverstone, and i'll have james keep liam away from you if that would make you feel better."

y/n had opened her mouth to say something when she felt a pair of hands clapping her on the shoulders.

"she's going." susie wolff insisted. "come on, y/n. you need to get out more. you deserve to let yourself have fun."

"but this party isn't going to be fun, susie."

susie grinned, hands in the deep front pockets of her trench coat. "you won't know unless you try it, kiddo." she turned to the phone. "marcus, she'll be there!"

____

y/n stood in front of her mirrored closet door, smoothing her fingers over her hair, drawn back into a tight half-up ponytail kind of style.

"you look great, kiddo!" angela cullen's voice faintly filtered through the phone speakers, a kelsy karter song playing softly from the turntable in the corner.

"ang, i'm going to make a fool out of myself out there." y/n groaned. "i hate parties!"

"but you know these guys, y/n. you know marcus, you know clem and you know fred. you'll be fine. with that being said, if you want to leave early, call one of us."

"oh, you'll definitley be getting some kind of call." she rolled her eyes, stopping the turntable and sliding the shiny black vinyl back into it's sleeve, fairy lights twinkling above her. "what if they don't like me, angela?"

"and what if they love you?"

after bidding the physiotherapist her goodbyes, y/n pocketed her phone and padded across the dusty apartment floor to her kitchen. the apartment felt too big for her to live in on her own, and technically she didn't, but it's not like her roommate was ever home. she sighed to herself, opening the fridge to stare at the almost empty shelf, making a mental note to order her groceries.

if there was anything that gave her anxiety, it was grocery shopping. there was a voice in her head that always seemed to tell her that the cashier ringing her groceries through was judging her, or that that mother with two kids in a stroller was frowning at the nutritional index of meals she hadn't even made yet.

she grabbed the plastic container with the kirkland signature logo, groaning to herself as she realized that the lettuce in her pre-made ceaser salad had gone off.

"fuck me." she muttered, throwing the entire thing in the trash before grabbing a ziploc container filled with sliced peppers, that way she had at least eaten something before she went to the party.

just in case her anxiety stamped out her appetite

her nimble fingers sailed across the keyboard as she texted clement, asking for a ride to marcus'. she had no idea where she was going, and she didn't want to be lost in london this close to the new year.

i'll be at the apartment in twenty, and i've got my girlfriend with me. she can't wait to meet you! you're going to have a great time at marcus'

she took a deep breath, reminding herself to calm down a little. it was just marcus armstrong's house. what could possibly go wrong? they're the same people she had such a great time with at silverstone, right?

_____

she regretted going to marcus' almost as soon as she walked through the doors to his massive penthouse. at the track, they could pretend that they were all the same. but not here, not out in the real world when y/n walked through the front doors of his doorman building with glass elevators, his penthouse that was bigger than even the townhouse she grew up in with her parents.

in the kitchen, marcus had stacked a sturdy tower of martini glasses. behind them, felipe drugovich was standing on a kitchen chair with a bottle of ferrari trento champagne in his arms.

"i've always wanted to do this!" the f2 champion shouted. "come on, guys. someone get this on tape!"

"dear lord, what are the twenty stooges doing now?" she groaned, leaning against the wall next to jehan daruvala.

jehan laughed. "making a champagne fountain because liam said he saw it in a movie once. felipe wanted to do the honors of puring it, and nobody wants to argue with the f2 champ, especially when he just found out he's not getting a race seat next year, but logan is."

"shit. i guess the feeder series system just isn't working like it used to."

a chorus of cheers from the kitchen island disrupted further conversation, the warm lights shining down on the last person that y/n wanted to see. god, motorsport was a small world, wasn't it?

liam lawson locked eyes with her from across the apartment, giving her a sad and sympathetic smile. she bit her lip to stop from grimacing, meekly waving back.

nobody else knew what had happened between her and liam, and she preferred to keep it that way.

"y/n!" marcus shouted, throwing his arms in the air and waving her over. "come join us!"

"have a drink." clement encouraged, trying to pass her a glass of champagne.

she shook her head. "give it to your girlfriend, novalak. i'm actually allergic to alcohol."

calan williams narrowed his eyes, skeptically sipping from his own glass. "that sounds fake."

y/n laughed, moving closer to the kitchen island. "its a genetic thing. i can't handle anything more than a cooler or a mixed drink. anything stronger will have me throwing up for hours."

"i think there's some smirnoff ice in the fridge." marcus suggested, pointing towards a large cabinet front. ayumu iwasa opened the cabinet, revealing the fridge behind it.

fucking rich people.

"what the hell, pass me one of the peach smirnoff coolers in the door."

"to felipe!" dennis hauger shouted, hefting his beer into the air, arm full of tattoos on display. "our 2022 champion!"

"and to logan, my old teammate!" liam lawson added, throwing his arm around logan sargeant's neck. liam looked drunkest of all, though it seemed like all of the drivers were a wreck. "williams racing's last hope."

she spent most of the night wandering around marcus' massive house, ducking in and out of conversations. she appreciated that the drivers were trying to help her feel at home, but there was still a small part of her that wanted to flee, to run away and sit at home with her emily henry book or watch a korean psychological thriller.

"so who's actually sticking around next year?" jack doohan asked, slumped across marcus' living room sofa. "aren't they cleaning house in f2?" his buzzcut was growing back in, his shaggy blonde hair fitting his face much better, although the look still seemed odd since the length was at that awkward stage.

"it's dennis, you, ayumu, jehan, enzo, theo, me, amaury, roy, ralph." fred vesti started counting off on his fingers, a drunken slur underneath his words if one listened carefully.

"and i'm not going anywhere any time soon!" ralph boomed. "i'm like fernando fucking alonso, motherfuckers! 2023 is going to be my year, just you wait and see!"

"yeah right! the championship is as much yours as it is clem's!" marcus shouted back with a laugh, an aperol spritz in hand as he messed with the stereo.

"oh, fuck you lot." clement laughed, curled up in an armchair with his girlfriend. "you didn't need to do me like that in front of ines, come on, have some class."

"am i forgetting about anyone?" fred hummed. "i skipped clem, but am i missing anyone else?"

"what about zane? he's coming back, yeah?" amaury suggested.

"dude, it's a miracle that you're coming back." dennis snorted. "i thought you were gone for sure after that speeding ticket fiasco. how long did you lose your license for?"

sitting on the couch in between jack and olli caldwell, she felt suffocated. she drew her arms in on herself, trying to create a bubble of space from the aussie on one side and the briton on the other. her palms felt sweaty, her chest heavy.

"are you okay?" olli asked her softly. "do you want to get out of here? we can go for a walk, take a breather?"

she nodded quickly, her voice soft. "please? i love you all, i really do, but this is a bit much."

"yeah, come on. let's grab your jacket." olli encouraged, taking her by the hand as they both slipped out of marcus' living room.

not that anybody noticed they were gone. or that they had left together.

once they were both outside, y/n felt better. the cool breeze on her face, the twinkling christmas lights that had been lit up glowing in the haze as snow began to fall gently.

"so where are you off to next year if it's not f2?" she asked, fingers still laced with olli's as they walked down the sidewalk.

"endurance, i think. alpine are still sponsoring me as a driver, so laurent has been a hige help in trying to find me something else. it's something different, and i'm looking forward to it. what about you?"

"i have no idea." she answered truthfully, dropping olli's hand. "my internship runs out before the season starts in bahrain. then it will be back to the real world, the world where i'm on my own with my five friends and my roommate. i'm hoping that toto will keep me on next year, but i also realize that he might not have that control. it would be a shame to leave, though. i feel like i've finally found my place in this world."

they stopped walking, y/n leaning against the brickwork exterior of marcus' condo complex. olli stood in front of her, hands in his jeans pockets, his breath turning into mist in the air.

"i'm sure it will all work out. and even if mercedes don't take you on, there are so many other motorsports in europe that you can try. and you'll always have us, y/n. any time you want them, i've got wec tickets for you."

"thanks, olli. really."

they drifted into a silence, somewhat easy, somewhat not. olli's hands came up to press against the wall, his face just milimeters from hers. her heart started pounding, anticipation building in her bones.

is this it? is it really happening? is olli caldwell going to kiss me?

and then he leaned in, his lips pressed against hers.

y/n y/l/n had just had her first kiss.

_____

"so let me get this straight, you finally got your first kiss, a boy actually wanted to go out with you, and you're turning him down?"

"well, when you put it like that!" y/n groaned, face in her hands as she slumped back in her desk chair.

it was the week after marcus armstrong's party, the group sitting in the legal department at the mercedes f1 factory in brackley. she had already told the full story, and her face was pinker than a crush cream soda.

"i just don't understand what your train of thought is here, if i'm being honest." george chuckled. "so caldwell kissed you. what's the big deal?"

"because it was my first kiss, george! i've been thinking it over all weekend, and i felt sick to my stomach when olli texted me the morning after." she groaned, running her hands over her face. "you're going to laugh at me when i tell you why."

"i promise you, we aren't going to laugh, y/n." lewis said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "all of what you're feeling is normal."

she sighed. "it didn't feel the way that the books said it was supposed to feel."

"that's your big reasoning? really?" nyck's tinny voice rang through the speaker on mick shumacher's phone. in abu dhabi, the reserve driver had officially been traded to scuderia alphatauri, and by extension, not allowed into brackley to be privy to this conversation. so, naturally, he was facetimed and looped in anyways.

"mick, can you please mute the traitor." y/n groaned, reaching for the german boy's phone before mick laughed and pulled it out of her reach to mute the call himself.

on screen, nyck was still talking.

"i know it sounds stupid, but i've felt sick about it all weekend. what am i supposed to do, guys?"

"i think that your feeling are vaild, first of all." mick began, "and that maybe olli came on too strong."

mick's finger slipped, unmuting the call enough for nyck to shout. "did i not just say that? were you not listening?"

"you have so much time, y/n." lewis said with a small smile. "but i hope you've learned something about yourself from this, yeah? maybe this was the boost of self confidence that you needed?"

she had thought about the kiss all weekend, hoping that she could make it make sense, and that she wasn't overreacting. and it's not like olli had done anything wrong, although french kissing was a little much for the first date, even when it wasn't even a date, and she was trying to convince herself that telling olli she just wanted to be friends was the best call.

and then, digging deeper, she had to ask herself if she was even ready for a relationship. because when the idea was finally breathing down her neck, the idea of olli, and going on a date, and sharing so much of herself with someone else, it scared the shit out of her.

"he put his tongue in my mouth, lewis!" she whined. "god, i sound like a child."

"he what?" a muffled voice called from the other side of her desk, followed up by a thump and frantic whispering.

"what the fuck?" y/n mumbled, getting out of her desk chair and leaning over the glass cubicle wall. "paul?"

with a shit eating grin on his face, paul aron slipped out from underneath the table, kimi antonelli just behind him. while paul didn't look the least bit apologetic, kimi looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

"i am so sorry, miss. we shouldn't have been listening." the italian boy bowed his head. "but blame paul, it was his idea."

"what, i wanted the office gossip." the estonian boy shrugged. "he french kissed you, and you friendzoned him? that's a little sad."

"paul get out!" y/n snapped. "or i'll call toto and bono!"

the threat of toto wolff was enough to get kimi and paul to dart out of the room faster than the freca cars that they drove. toto didn't know about the kiss, mainly because she knew that he had otmar and laurent on speed dial and would find a way to put the fear of god into oliver caldwell for hurting his intern.

the bond that she had formed with the wolff family wasn't something she would have traded for the world. she found herself calling or texting toto's daughter rosa more often, with the two being of a similar age.

she just hoped that toto liked her enough to keep her around for another season.

"there are plenty of fish in the sea, kiddo." susie wolff added, striding into the office. "and don't worry, i'm not going to tell toto. although, paul and kimi might. take this as a learning experience. and don't take any advice from this lot." she added, whacking george in the back of the head with a file folder.

"why did i feel like that was directed at me?" the man from king's lynn groaned.

"the right boy will come when the time is right. god knows i met toto later in life. and look at us now." susie continued, pulling y/n in for a hug. "come on, we have an investor meeting with monster, and toto wants you there."

"me? he wants me in a meeting with our biggest sponsor?"

lewis laughed. "you need to start giving yourself more credit. you are so loved here, y/n. you have a future in motorsport law, a future here."

mick, lewis and george all exchanged a look, bright smiles on their faces.

"what are you not telling me? is toto keeping me on for next year?"

"we aren't allowed to say anything just yet." george started. "but, i think toto has a soft spot for you."

"put it this way: you'll know before bahrain, and you might want to pack some summer clothes." susie smiled.

Tags:

@magnummagnussen @diorleclerc @daydreamingleclerc @scuderiamh @sidcrosbyspuck @libraryofloveletters

[inthiseverymoment]

silhouettes emerging: chapter iii

“Ever-Soaring Melodies on Unstable Chords”

having theatre-kid-ed her way into this mess, isabelle realizes she needs to theatre-kid her way out. or, as the case may be, theatre-kid her way in even deeper.

iwtv oc x armand, this chapter ~2.8k

this one takes place entirely in flashback and prose for Melodramatic Anne Rice Reasons. don't worry, we'll get daniel's thoughts (spoiler alert: our boy is Less Than Convinced) and some good good analysis in the next chapter

...currently realizing that, if last chapter was "y/n gets noticed at a concert", this chapter is the fight song by rachel platten moment. but, again, IT'S IWTV SO IT'S DEEPER THAN THAT

ok it is three forty eight am enjoy

chapter ii fic masterlist chapter iv

“I’m not sure why he insisted on keeping her in here. It’s not like she’s different from any other once-fresh meat.”

“Did you hear what they were saying before we caught her? She wanted a job.”

“A job! Here! Mon Dieu, the humans are getting bolder and bolder these days.”

Liquid voices were beginning to work their way into Isabelle’s consciousness as she awoke, her eyes eventually opening to reveal a few members of the last night’s cast and crew.

Last night?

Last week?

Last hour?

She didn’t know.

Suddenly feeling as if she hadn’t breathed in too long, she gasped in a lungful of air and was overwhelmed by a tantalizing smell combining rust, hair gel, potpourri, and…night itself, if that could even be said to have a smell.

Backstage.

Despite being in grave danger, just knowing she was in a dressing room environment sent a shiver of comfort through her that she tried to ignore.

Isabelle’s breath alerted the others to her presence, and as her vision gained focus, she began to recognize them one by one as they looked over her. Given her condition, all she could do was string the occasional tired word together.

“So. I take it…you are…real.”

A moment’s silence, and the vampires burst into debatably-natured laughter.

“That’s a new one,” tittered a slim woman with dark, perfectly rolled curls.

“And I realized that, and now you’re going to kill me? That’s how it is?”

“She’s a quick young thing,” a woman with hair like her own said between drags of her cigarette. “Almost wish we didn’t have to drain her.”

“I mean, you really don’t-”

“I’m afraid we do,” came a familiar drawl, and Santiago seemed to dramatically part his Red Sea of castmates. “Our Great Laws state that no vampire can allow a mortal to live who has had the vampire’s true nature revealed to them. Being that you now know the true nature of the entire Théâtre des Vampires…ah, well. The Laws must be followed. Too bad, my sweet, really. It’s what they say: so full of artless jealousy is guilt-”

“It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.”

However much terror was running through her veins at the thought of imminent death, the second half of her favorite Hamlet quote had come through her lips low, calm, and controlled. She breathed in something like relief; here was one thing to hold onto. Santiago, who’d clearly been expecting to continue grandstanding, regarded her with something like a challenge flashing through his cold eyes.

“Stars, hide your fires-”

“Let not light see my black and deep desires.”

“Anger’s my meat: I sup upon myself-”

“And so shall starve with feeding.”

Her adrenaline turning from fear to the high of competition, she would have stood to face Santiago if it were not for her realization that she was tied to her chair. He was advancing on her, an attempt at intimidation, but she matched him play for play and quote for quote; these words were her comfort, her lifeline, her blood.

“Run when you will. The story shall be changed:”

“Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase.”

“Or if I live, is it not very like-”

“-the horrible conceit of death and night-”

“-together with the terror of the place,” they finished in unison before Santiago started up again-

“No, sure, my lord-”

“My mother cried,” they said together, reaching the crest of their increase in volume to the point where they were both shouting-

“But then there was a star danced,” she concluded on her own,  more conviction in her voice than she had ever felt before, “and under that was I born.”

A long, long, long silence seemed to pass as the other cast members stared at them both with endless amusement. Eventually, Santiago allowed himself the smallest of chuckles.

“Yes, we’ll have to fog this one’s mind quite a bit for the next performance. Otherwise, she’ll get the audience on her side, and we can’t have that.”

…What?

No.

Nononononononono-

Eventually, she realized she was saying this repetition out loud-

“Someone get Armand,” she cried out. “You can’t do that to me. He wouldn’t allow it-at least I thought-what happened to the sympathy you had for me? That speech, to that girl? She was always entirely an act-I didn’t know all of you were-I-Armand!-please, please don’t-merde, I’m begging now-I’m saying-”

“Do not take her mind,” a measured yet half-flippant voice came from the staircase, and she turned to see him there.

Was he watching this whole exchange?

An ember of shame threatened to burn within her for wielding power through words that weren’t truly hers and then, at the threat of losing what she valued most, crumbling and calling out desperately to someone she’d met only hours ago; but it was soon swallowed up by more pressing matters-namely, the fate of her agency and life.

“People come to the Théâtre to be entertained,” Armand was saying as he descended the staircase. “It is not often that one of our victims puts up a true intellectual fight, and our audience will appreciate the chance to see it.”

“Maître, it won’t work otherwise, she wouldn’t fall for the-”

“Not too fast, Santiago,” came the interruption, and the maître in question silenced his leading man with only the lift of a hand. “We don’t want to spoil the surprise for her.”

“I-”

A blush painting her wearied face, she had to search for words for a moment as the vampires turned their piercing eyes to her. It took quite a bit of willpower to regain her composure, but regain it she did.

“I was there for the last performance. It will not be a surprise. You-you read their minds, I suppose, point out their flaws, and make them wish for the death you provide. Is that it?”

A beat, and then an outburst-

“Fog! Her! Mind!” Santiago said in the verbal equivalent of an exasperated eyeroll.

“I will not,” Armand held firm, “and neither shall any of you.”

He stepped behind Isabelle’s chair and touched two fingers to her temple, and an odd wave of something seemed to wash over her as the rest of the cast dispersed to their coffins, whispering all the way.

“That is a protection,” came Armand’s whisper to her. “I’ve stopped them from getting into your thoughts-”

“What, so that you can turn around and do it yourself?”

She ripped herself away from him as much as she could in her current position, her breath finally falling into tears, and he somehow seemed genuinely wounded.

“You do not trust me, then.”

“Why on earth,” she choked out a laugh, “would I trust you? It was your voice in my head last night, you who took me where I could see the bloodstain, you with so much power-apparently both hierarchical and supernatural-over everyone else here.”

“My promise regarding the audience was simply so that they would spare you. I have a plan, Isabelle-”

“And, whether that’s true or not, I suppose you could make me believe it somehow? How-”

Isabelle broke off, trying to keep from heaving a sob. The sudden longing for her tiny apartment with dripping ceilings and creaking tables overwhelmed her, if only for a return to when she was hers, when she was safe.

“How can I trust anything about you?”

After a moment, he swallowed hard but silently, then looked her in the eye for the first time since their last night’s conversation.

How she ever could have seen those eyes for even a moment and not realized that this man was something more than human was quite a mystery now. The deciphering of him that Isabelle had delighted in as an audience member with a crush had turned into a full-throated attempt to read his every flicker of the eyebrow, with her life now on the line. And all this time, the man in question had been silent.

“I’ll prove it,” he said simply.

Finding nothing more that he could do, Armand turned and retreated, going back up the staircase with every quiet footstep ringing.

He’d saved her last night. He’d claimed to have saved her now. And he was apparently planning to save her tomorrow from the death that his cast-his coven-hoped to carry out.

She was left alone with many questions, above them all being:

Why?

~

Isabelle’s day on the chair as the vampires slept had been spent half in silent contemplation, half in fruitless attempts to escape from her surely-supernaturally-assisted bonds. There was, needless to say, a lot to grapple with, but one thought nearly as alarming as losing her memories was the knowledge that-

If these people-people?-weren’t trying to kill or otherwise disarm me, I’d…

I’d adore them.

She’d never felt anything like this before. Immersive theatre that delved into grief and every facet of humanity, both beautifully artistic and unapologetically messy, was an idea she could only dream of for most of her life. The thrill of finding herself a little bit infatuated with half the cast throughout each play, then seeing all of those same bright eyes turned towards her; the offbeat adrenaline rush of a Shakespeare-off; the fact that she was no longer the most dramatic one in the room, not by a mile; so much about this group was intoxicating.

And the short conversation she’d had with Armand before everything fell open, as well as the restless dreams she’d had of him that she was sure he’d somehow placed there, still took the forefront of her musings.

Why is it that the first time I have genuine reason to feel wanted, it’s under…

Her leftover makeup had started to flake, and the rope was near biting into her wrists after the hours it had spent there.

…these circumstances?

Last night, she’d thought that a performance gig here would be her last chance, and this now seemed to be true in a whole new fashion. It took quite a lot of figuring, hoping, and crying to come to terms with the extremely high likelihood that there were only two ways that this night would finish:

Either Isabelle de la Rue, once Bella Ditell, would be killed…

…or she would be embraced.

It was clear that, for a few fleeting moments, in even the slightest way, these vampires respected her a little bit. They clearly thought she was dangerous enough to necessitate intervention, that she had enough presence of mind and will to live to stop her from falling for Santiago’s beckon to death. They now knew, too, that she was clearly a performer by trade and by passion. Armand had mentioned her possibly being of entertainment value, and that had sparked something of an idea; as little as she wanted to be valued only for that, if this was the only way to survive, she would show them that they wanted to keep her around.

The audition of a lifetime.

~

Hours later, she was behind the very same curtain that she’d been on the other side of only a day before. In any other circumstance, this would be a dream-to see a show at a theatre company one night and be part of said company the next.

Apparently, manifestations need to be more specific.

The redheaded woman who’d expressed not wanting to kill her held one of Isabelle’s arms, and the other was taken by a pretty-boy type who had played a woodcutter in an earlier skit. They both seemed surprised at her silence, but didn’t address it.

Probably makes it easier for them. Not to see their victims as people, and all that.

But when they dragged her onstage after a very long monologue for Santiago-as-Death, Isabelle did not stay silent, and she also did not scream.

She sang.

It was an aria of a mythical queen awaiting her death, one that she’d known for years. She felt an odd sensation of multiple telepathic attempts to shut her mouth being ricocheted away by whatever spell Armand had placed, and with the knowledge that this might be the last aria of her life, she poured her entire being into it. Santiago played along in character, partly amused and partly furious, and the sound of this half-chaotic French made her head spin even further, and everything whirled around at once-

All of a sudden, Isabelle was a capella no longer.

She glanced into the wings and made eye contact with the pianist, who grinned at her.

I won’t let myself imagine that anything comes out of real sympathy, that’s too dangerous-they’re playing with their food, is all.

Still…

What a moment!

Roughly half the audience was laughing in disbelief, but the other half seemed genuinely tuned in to what she was doing. She reached out to them, to her fellow humans, every trace of desperation and brazen hope sparking up in her eyes. She even managed to find and share a moment with the girl she’d met the previous night, who had seemed greatly worried upon recognizing her but now smiled at her and leaned forward to take her hands-

-until Santiago grabbed hold of her waist from behind and dragged her upstage.

A few audience members gasped, but Isabelle continued singing, looking between them and her reaper with more fire than she had ever trusted herself to possess.

Unable to stop her voice by supernatural means, Santiago skipped to the end of his usual blocking, straight to the part where he held the victim by the throat. This nearly choked her, and the tears that had started during her frenzied aria threatened to break loose.

A cold shiver ran through her every bone.

This is it.

It didn’t work.

She tried to turn her head, intending for her friend in the front row-her first friend-to be the last face she’d see.

If I go out, I’ll go out singing.

Santiago’s grip tightened, and-

“Arrêt!”

Out of pure surprise, the bony grip around her neck released, and she looked over Santiago’s shoulder to find the source of the voice she already knew.

Armand, now in full makeshift costume, was holding a very real prop sword to his leading man’s throat.

He began to speak in French, with every dramatic inflection of the rest of his coven, but broadcasted a more earnestly spoken translation to her as he did so:

You will not harm her.

Apparently greatly enjoying the improvisatory nature of how tonight was shaping up, the offstage orchestra struck up a soaring, string-soaked theme.

As Orpheus meant to save Eurydice, I mean to claim my love from the hands of Death. Only I, I will not falter. I will not doubt.

He now lowered his sword and looked straight to her, directly, intently.

I will give her reason to trust.

Whether it was the torrent of Purcell-assisted emotion and the promise of certain death that preceded this, her go-with-the-moment theatrical training, the single curl falling in front of Armand’s face, or some overwhelming combination of all three, Isabelle slowly moved to take his hand, deeply affected by the way he seemed to have genuinely expected her not to.

He kissed her birthmark again, and she started to cry.

Never one to miss a chance at upstaging a scene, Santiago swooped in once more, but was repelled. By the way each vampire looked at the other, she knew this was a battle being fought with eyes and telepathy alone, one which the maître would undoubtedly win.

Mighty Reaper, Armand’s speech and translation continued, cliché as it may seem, my love-my lark-is too strong in her soul and in her love to fall to you this early. With the two of us fighting against you, life will…

These words seemed almost to stick in his throat; understandable, she thought, after years-possibly centuries-of existing by the opposite mantra.

This time, life will prevail.

She shook her head, looking to Armand in total bewilderment. Why was he doing this? Why was he saying all of this?

Why me?

This he heard, and this he answered.

She of the ever-winding, ever-sparking mind, she of the soaring and unafraid voice-both of which you, Death, wish to silence-is the only one I ever wish to hear.

What followed was a kiss so tentative, then so tender, then so deep, that the sound of the violins seemed to be circling around the pair in swooping whirls that caught in each contour of their breath.

For the first time in her life, Bella Ditell allowed her guard to fall.

The audience, caught off guard by something resembling a ‘happy ending’ and having quite a lot of fun with the dramatics of it all, roared their appreciation. Above every sound was the delighted, encouraging wolf whistle of the young woman in the front row.

Perhaps it was wrong. Perhaps it was horrid. Perhaps it was everything she’d feared wrapped up in everything she’d hoped, or perhaps it was the opposite.

But now, at least, at last, Isabelle had the chance to find that out for herself.