#I’m getting the angst out now before it finds itself in a February prompt

[steddieas-shegoes]

The shampoo in the shower is wrong.

So is the conditioner.

And the body wash.

None of it is familiar, none of it feels like home, none of it feels like Eddie.

And why would it? Eddie’s not here, he’s with the band recording another album, far away from Hawkins and Steve.

They agreed to this, they both did. Eddie said he couldn’t wait for Steve, Steve didn’t want him to have to. Steve couldn’t leave the kids, Eddie didn’t want him to.

But that left them here, in this weird limbo where neither of them could acknowledge that they’d “broken up” and Steve was left staring at a body wash that wasn’t theirs.

It was stupid, really. Eddie always had his own body wash anyway.

But it was always right next to Steve’s. And sometimes they accidentally used each others’ when they were too tired to pay attention to the bottle they grabbed. And sometimes they’d run out of one and forget to pick up a new one at the store, so they’d smell like each other for a few days, weeks even.

And somehow Steve was expected to just use his own body wash, with no other bottle sitting on the shelf as an option.

Because Eddie wasn’t an option right now.

Or maybe ever if things kept going well for him and the guys.

Six months is a long time to not have Eddie as a comfort, as a safe place to rest, as a home.

But six months wasn’t that long when he thought about forever like this. Forever without Eddie.

Something he couldn’t have imagined the moment Eddie held a broken bottle to his neck.

He got out of the shower without washing his hair or his body; He could do it tomorrow.

He could be braver tomorrow.

He could survive another day without Eddie. Tomorrow.

Or maybe tomorrow he could finally be the one to break. He could call him and ask how things are. He could offer to come to a show. He could tell him that he loves him and he wants to follow him anywhere he goes.

But tomorrow wasn’t today and today, Steve had to accept his decision, their decision.

So today, Steve curled up in his bed, and he thought about what Eddie would sound like over the phone when he was brave. Tomorrow.

[therealvalkyrie]

What Could’ve Been Without the War

Pairing/setting: Jean Kirschtein x Female!Reader, modern!AU within the Walls, set after the War; canon divergent w/ modern tech

Summary: You and Jean embark on your weekly trip to the grocery store.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: equal parts angst and fluff, idiots to idiots, mutual pining, unsatisfying ending (i’m so sorry)

AN: Surprise Jean! I hope you are all having a wonderful Friday evening and that I don’t ruin it too much with angst. This piece started out as a super fluffy drabble involving grocery store shenanigans and kinda....uh....got away from me. Ahem. It was also originally intended as a 157 follower cool prime number thank you! I think we’re up to 180-something now, but we can still count it. Big thanks yet again to the love of my life @ghostlightprincess for her edits and encouragements:) Please come let me know what you think in my DMs/askbox/comments!!  ~valkyrie

Jean opens on the third knock on his apartment door, already shrugging on a jacket. He greets you with a short “hi” and receives the kiss you plant on his cheek out of habit.

“You ready?” You’re practically bouncing on the balls of your feet, car keys jingling off of the magenta key ring looped around your finger. It’s cute, and he finds himself matching your enthusiasm with a grin of his own.

“Almost,” he replies, reaching back to his coat rack to grab a scarf. “Honestly, I still don’t understand why you’re always so excited for the grocery store.”

He looks back to catch you rolling your eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re not. A grocery store is a magical place, with all of the cheesecake and ice cream you could ever wish for!”

He chuckles and joins you in the hallway, leaning down to lock his door behind him. “Need I remind you that you’re lactose intolerant?”

“That’s what Lactaid is for, stupid. Come on!” He lets you pull him down the hall, your small gloved hand in his big one. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Croft!” you greet his elderly neighbor as you pass her open door, sticking your head in with a wide smile. “You need anything from the store? Jean and I are just on our way.”

Jean stands beside you awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with his shrewd neighbor. You haven’t let go of his hand and he can feel a blush working its way up his neck. 

“No, that’s alright, honey, I just went this morning.”

“Okay! Well, let us know if you think of anything!”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Have a good afternoon, ma’am,” Jean chips in as you wave. 

“You kids have fun.”

The next second, you’re pulling him away again and he misses the way Mrs. Croft chuckles knowingly and looks back to her knitting. 

—

“What’s next on the list?” Your voice drifts down the aisle back to him, and Jean pauses in pushing the cart to shuffle the papers in his hands. 

“Umm… AP flour, vanilla extract,” shuffle, shuffle, “brown sugar, olive oil, yeast.”

You hum in acknowledgment and he watches as you flit from shelf to shelf, gathering items in your arms. He pushes the cart up to join you.

You dump everything in haphazardly, and he sighs, leaning down to straighten it all out into categories.

“What’s next?” You’re already halfway down the rest of the aisle again, gazing up longingly at the Oreos on the top shelf.

God, she’s cute.

He joins you, reaches up to pluck a pack of Double Stuf off of the shelf, and wordlessly places it in your section of the cart, suppressing a smile of his own as you grin up at him.

“You sure know how to treat a girl right, Jean-bo.” You reach up to ruffle his mullet. 

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, ducking away and flushing red like a smitten schoolboy. “Next is the frozen aisle.”

—

“Was it the lasagna that she liked last time? Or the shepherd’s pie?”

“The lasagna.” He accepts three frozen dinners as you pass them over from where you’re leaning past the glass freezer door.

“Hey,” he looks up sharply at your soft call to see you staring down the aisle like you’ve seen a ghost, hand still holding the glass door open. He follows your gaze and sees him just as you say, “It’s Erwin.”

It’s not, but Jean’s heart twists all the same at the resemblance the stranger carries. Same neatly parted blonde hair, broad shoulders. But he’s shorter, still has both arms. And he’s alive. 

“It’s not, sweetheart,” he murmurs, reaching to wrap an arm around your shoulders.

“It is, look he—” you insist until the man turns and instead of the Commander’s piercing blue gaze you’re met with brown eyes that flick between you and Jean in confusion. “Oh.” Your face falls and you allow the door to close, turning into Jean’s side.

“You alright?” He tilts his head to catch your expression. It’s pure pain, mouth twitching into a frown and eyes unfocused. Your hand comes up to grip the bottom of his jacket, and after a second he can see you physically force your face back to neutral. 

“Fine,” you nod. He knows you’re faking, that it’s a survival tactic, so he lets it go for now, only steps back to let you in between his body and the cart. 

“Up you go,” he prompts you to step up, feet on the bottom shelf and hands clutching the bar. He starts to push as you ride, walking first then running down the aisle until you finally throw your head back and laugh genuinely. 

He misses the exasperated look an employee gives him as the pair of you whizz past, too preoccupied with your smile.

—

“What do you need three dozen eggs for, anyway?” you ask incredulously, nevertheless opening each carton to inspect before handing them over. 

“They’re a good source of protein,” he defends. “Plus, you always end up running out and coming to me to complain. Ran me dry last time.”

Another playful eye roll. “It’s only ‘cause I messed up my brownies! And I needed them to entice the landlord to finally fix my heater.”

“Your heater’s been broken?”

“Well, it’s not anymore. Espresso brownies work wonders, I’ll have you know.”

You’re trying to brush it off as you normally do when he worries, but the thought of you shivering and blue-lipped keeps him pushing. “How long did you not have heat for? It’s February!”

“Not the point, Jean-bo!” You poke at his cheek and twirl away towards the cheese. 

“It definitely is the point. Come to me next time and I’ll fix it.”

“And lose my deposit?” You scoff, reaching for mozzarella. “Fat chance.”

“Freeze, then.”

You grin back at him. “Why d’you think I came over so much last weekend?”

“Is that all I am to you? A hot water bottle in your time of need?” He feigns hurt, but some pride swells in his chest that he kept you warm, after all. 

“And a cute one, at that. Think fast!”

His hand flashes up to catch the mozzarella you toss deftly. 

“You wound me.”

“Eh, builds character. What’s next?”

Shuffle, shuffle. “Wine and flowers.”

—

Jean watches as you bounce in the driver’s seat, hands almost dainty on the wheel, leaning forward to stare resolutely out the windshield at the darkening road. You’re singing along to some song he doesn’t know that’s playing from the stereo.

It’s so familiar, this Saturday evening ritual with you, and it wraps Jean up like the softest blanket. He knows why you’re always so excited about grocery shopping, and it’s not the cheesecake — it’s the way this routine has centered itself in both your lives. He feels it too, the semblance of normalcy, of domesticity, that you’ve cobbled together with him in between hard weeks and harder nights.

You navigate the bends and odd intersections of his old suburban neighborhood with ease, having driven to his house maybe thousands of times since you were teens. The elementary school passes, then the vet clinic, until finally, your old black sedan pulls into his mom’s driveway alongside her silver minivan.

You shift to neutral and yank on the parking brake habitually, then turn off the car and settle back into your seat.

You’re both quiet for a moment: you staring out the window lost in thought, Jean checking the time on his phone.

“Jean?”

“Hm?”

“Do you ever regret enlisting so young?” This catches his attention, turning sharply to look at your contemplative profile.

“Never. It was the right thing to do.” He’s resolute in this conviction, always. The War had seemed to be at its worst when you’d joined up, driven by the promise of Wall Maria’s reclamation and impassioned by your comrades’ fury. It had been the only choice, in his view.

“I do, sometimes,” you admit quietly, eyes downcast to where your fingers twist in your lap. “Maybe then my head wouldn’t be so messed up,” you laugh dryly and tap your temple, then shoot him a sideways glance. “And maybe—” you cut yourself off.

“Maybe what?”

“Never mind.” You’re out of the car so fast Jean almost questions if you moved at all. It reminds him of your natural grace on the ODM gear, how you’d whoop and holler as you hurtled past him among the trees during training. He wonders for a moment when your agility turned from a source of joy to an escape mechanism, then stops himself. He knows exactly when that happened.

—

The grocery store tulips thankfully survived their ordeal in the trunk of your car, bright against Ma Kirschtein’s tile kitchen backsplash as you arrange them in her favorite vase. After a minute of fussing, you take a step back, give a nod of satisfaction, and scoop up the trimmed stems off the counter. The rest of the groceries are already put away, organized so she can reach them without trouble.

It’s as you’re stepping on the trash can pedal to open its lid that the voices from the living room catch your ear. You pause, smiling as mother and son converse.

“Have you been eating enough, Jean-bo? You look so skinny….”

“Ma, I—”

“What am I saying, of course you haven’t. You’d waste away to nothing if you were left to your own devices. I’m so glad that darling girl is there to look after you.”

“Ma, she’s not my keeper—”

“When are you two getting married, again? I could’ve sworn I wrote it down in my book, but I looked the other day and couldn’t find the date anywhere.” She sounds serious. Confused, even, not a hint of teasing in her tone. Must be an off day. A symptom of her early-onset dementia.

“Ma, we’re not even together.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been together since high school.” She’s so convinced, so sure, and you squeeze your eyes tight against the reality that you and Jean have only ever been friends. In the adolescent insecurity of high school, in the intensity of military training, in the fucking heat of battle, all you’ve ever shared is friendship.

“Ma, I don’t think… I don’t even think she—” He pauses and your ears strain in the silence to catch his last quiet phrase. “She doesn’t think of me that way.”

You just know, you can tell, he only says it like that to ease her confusion. It’s the opposite, really, he doesn’t think of you that way. Before you can hear more sideways rejection, you toss the flower stems and make a beeline for the bathroom.

—

“What was that movie you were telling me to watch, again?” You ask around a mouthful of spaghetti with sauce fresh from the jar, covering your mouth with one hand.

The pair of you are eating shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor of your apartment two floors above Jean’s. It’s got the decidedly better view out your picture window, complete with the perfect Eastern perspective of the river that cuts through Trost and its famous bridges. It’s this, the third leg of your traditional Saturday evenings together, that makes you feel the most warm.

Jean has the manners to chew and swallow before replying. “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood? Connie, Sasha, and I went to see it when they visited last month—”

Your snicker cuts him off and he raises his eyebrows as you roll your eyes and take a sip of wine. “The feet movie? Sasha said it was pretentious.”

“Really? I thought she was too preoccupied with the fact that the theater sold chili fries to pay attention.” He teases back, twirling more pasta onto his fork.

“I’m telling her you said that,” you warn with a jab of your own fork in his direction.

“Snitch.”

“Hey!”

He ducks to avoid your swat to the back of his head, grinning at your pout. “No, but seriously, apart from the feet it’s a good movie.”

“Hmm. I’ll consider putting it on the roster for next week.”

You take a moment to relish the comfortable silence, looking out at the city lights as you chew thoughtfully. His thigh is heavy and warm against yours under the thick knitted blanket his mom gave you last Yule. Your belly is warm and full, your shoulders relaxed in the company of your closest friend, your lungs breathing easily.

Jean says your name quietly and you turn to see him staring pensively down at the plate in his lap. “About what you asked earlier… in the car?”

You nod, eyes wide and mouth serious.

“Sometimes… I do regret it.” He grits the words out through his teeth, like it’s difficult to force the truth into the world. “Not because I regret what we did in the War. But because sometimes I wonder,” his eyes cut to yours for a split second, “I wonder what could’ve been. Without the War.”

You don’t say anything, don’t say you understand, because you know he knows. Instead, you loop your arm into his and lean your head against his shoulder. It takes a moment, a release of breath and the fall of his chest, but eventually he closes his eyes, turns his face into your hair, and allows himself to sink into the what could’ve been. Just for now.

[indieks]

Valentine's Day +2 🥀 Bang Chan

🌹 Pairing : Bang Chan x Reader

🌹 Genre : A lot of fluff, Mild angst

🌹 Word count : 8.2k

🌹 Synopsis : He had asked you out on Valentine’s day, making this special day even more special to you. However, two years later, this fourteenth day of February turns out to be one of the days the both of you hate the most. Bang Chan still loves you, and you still love him, then how come you didn't manage to be each other’s Valentine any longer?

🌹 A/N : Hello everyoooone! I’m posting just a short prompt. For the first time I'm writing for Stray Kids but reading excellent fics with Bang Chan just made me want to write as well, and for the second first time in my life, I've written a fanfic in only an afternoon, after having had a pretty nice dream and having seen the McDonald's advertisements for Valentine's day. Putting these two things together, I’ve come out with this!

Hopefully you guys will enjoy it, I’m still working on my Jooheon’s series but I think I will come to love publishing oneshots randomly like this! Thank you for ever reading my work ♥

                         February 14th, 2017.

 It was high time he asked you out, he knew it, and he finally had braced the courage to do so. Chan wasn't sure if you reciprocated his feelings as the signs he thought he had perceived might have been wrong, or if you felt as complete as he were every time you spent time together. But still, he had to let his heart speak for itself after having muting it for so long, its hushed voice that turned inside his head whenever you were near him constricting his throat more and more as it fought to get out, to the point he had a hard time answering as you asked him :

"So where do you want to meet tonight?"

Your lovely voice at the other end of the line froze Chan under his sheets, his phone nearly crushed into his hand, and suddenly all of his bravery and his firm decision to tell you how he felt was nowhere to be found. He felt helpless like back when he was in middle school, time when he had, like a lot of children of his young age, been "in love" with a classmate, getting petrified every time she had smiled at him or held his hand in the rows.

However right now, he was twenty-one years old, in his third year of studying music at the university, and he had already written a few stories with other girls in the past before he met you, so he just couldn't let himself be petrified within his feelings like a kid. He had always been confident, smiling, comfortable around his previous crushes ; he had even had a serious relationship where he had been the one to confess first. Then how come everything in his usual self-assured behavior turned out to be M.I.A when it came to you?

He had met you during the second semester of the second year, in other words about six months ago. You had freshly landed in Seoul, flying from a foreign country, and barely speaking the language but at least comprehending its basics. He had been told that you had moved because of your parents' jobs, and that you needed someone to help you get accustomed to your new environment and make it into the third year without lacking too much.

And luckily for you, Chan had been the one to welcome you. The blonde and curly haired boy was indeed the president of the Foreign and Exchange Students association, created specifically for the ones that came by to study in Seoul for a semester or longer thanks to partnerships with universities across the world. Chan had come from Australia himself as soon as he had become a high school graduate, and quickly, he had been sent over to this small organization where a few foreign students or bilingual Koreans had helped him untangle all the administrative formalities, tutored him to perfect his mastering of the language, and taught him other little things that had made him went through his first year smoothly.

And at some point, Chan had turned out to be the one giving a hand to lost foreigners, making him the next target for the presidency of the association, as he also was quite popular and well appreciated by everyone, especially thanks to his rap trio 3RACHA from the Music association in which he had also signed in. His two friends and himself had indeed got themselves known by dropping bomb-like verses during small concerts thrown by the association at the beginning of the student council's parties, earning some kind of fame and recognition.

That is how he had dated his first long-term girlfriend ever, a student from the same major as his and a member of the Music association, her voice having mused him somehow and making him fall for her charms just like a sailor called out by the chant of a mermaid. They had started to write, record and perform collabs together, their duet's popularity skyrocketing to the top of the gossips and the admiration of everyone ; however, the two soon realized they weren't matching as well as a couple as they did in music, so the romance ended after a few months together.

And Chan had known, when he had had the chance to talk to you for the first time and for the days and weeks after that, that he indeed had just been musically on the same wavelength as his ex ; because it was you, he felt romantically in sync with.

He still remembered the dumbfounded expression twisting your traits as you had been wandering in the hallways on your first day of school, your silhouette being dragged around slowly by your stumbling feet as you had looked around in hopes to find the association's meeting room quickly, feeling the most lost you had ever been in your whole life. Studying in Seoul didn't displease you, but arriving in the middle of a year, when everyone had already made acquaintances during the past months, had automatically been putting a distance between the people in your year and yourself, not mentioning your learning of the language that had still been in process.

But what Chan was reminded of the most, was the relieved look and the wide smile you had addressed him when he had finally come to your rescue after he had amusingly observed you behind the room's windows, with your head snapping from the left to the right in search of your destination. From your first discussion around a cup of coffee spitted by the vending machine, Chan had known you were nice and easy-going, and something about how your eyes had lightened up every time he had questioned you about your country, your studies and your passions, had warmed his heart.

And from this short encounter, Chan then became your first classmate, friend, but also your every single school project's partner ; and as time had went by, you also had become the best buddies. You couldn't quite explain how come your minds just clinked the way they did, maybe the "foreign" way of thinking helping you to get closer faster as you understood, interpreted, discovered and learned the same things with the same "ooh" slipping out of your mouths each time one of Chan's friends – who had then ended up being yours – explained something to the both of you. It was funny to see that after more than a year of living on the Korean ground, Chan was still as much of a newbie as you.

If you had dreaded the sudden change in your life, the leaving of your own friends back in your mother's country, the imposing of a new culture you were excited to dig yourself in as much as it feared you, Chan had become the constant ray of sun gracing your days, with the efforts he put to spare time to study with you and help every time you needed, with his dimple smile and his dork-ish attitudes that made you laugh out loud during classes, with his funniness, tenderness but also his kind of protective aura you had grown to get the most comfortable around, as if standing or sitting next to him conveyed the same familiar and welcoming feeling you had when you reunited with your bed once home.

Soon enough, as the months had passed along with the rising of your grades up 'til the end of the year, your bloody organ had come to double in size just to welcome the huge amount of feelings you had secretly gathered for Bang Chan, just like he implicitly had for you.

So, on this February 14th, 2017, just before the start of your third year, it was with knots torturing your stomach and chills plaguing your skin that you were waiting for Chan in front of the McDonald's restaurant, eyes fixed on the usual spot next to the window that you, him and your group of friends always targeted when you decided to drop Korean food for gross burgers and fries, and you found yourself dozing off into a set of wonderings.

He knows it's Valentine's day, doesn't he? Why would he want to meet on this special day? With couples around everywhere to remind him? Why? Was it on purpose, or not?

Chan and you were already pretty close, amicably but also physically speaking, not a day being spent without an arm swung around shoulders, fingers pinching cheeks, hands grasping waists or wrists as you or him led the way through the corridors ; all those small gestures hinting at some kind of attraction you had for each other and making you suppose the day you would cross the "friends" line was approaching. Yet every time he ruffled your hair like a brother would and genuinely smiled at you after having attempted any of these physical contacts, he watered the roots of doubt you still had planted at the back of your head.

"Hi" a familiar, sweet voice pulled you down to Earth and right out of your daze, and you slightly jumped at the sight of your closest friend, his long blonde hair fighting messily on the top of his head.

"You know we're in winter, right?" you sighed as you couldn't help but compare your body wrapped into dozens of layers of fabrics to protect yourself from the icy weather, while he was just… Sporting a black windbreaker with the hood barely covering his skull.

The boy chuckled and grabbed you by the shoulders before turning you around towards the entrance, not even bothering to answer your question as he knew you had asked rhetorically, your scolding side talking for itself. He made you sit down at the famous spot, telling you he would order without letting you the time to protest.

"I know what you're eating, just trust me" he had smiled slyly before turning around.

That pretty twist of his lips faded the cold sensation your shivering body had been put through during the good ten minutes you had been waiting for him, and you eyed him with your chin in the palm of your hand, your pupils unintentionally shooting a loving stare at his silhouette waiting in line.

You liked him so much, couldn't he see?

You wondered how come he hadn't caught the signs of how weak in the knees he made you, when he would back-hug you from time to time, when he would video call you during the weekend to tell you he was bored, when he would text you as he was getting drunk with the boys to narrate you the shit they were about to do, when he would wait for you every Monday and Thursday at the end of classes, when he would ask you to sneak out the dorms as you both couldn't sleep, when he would rap in front of you with a firm tone and an aussie accent that ate your insides.

He was utterly charming, caring, reliable, nice, and moreover, he had the looks ; a perfect combination to inevitably push you over the edge and make you fall for him at some point.

"Here" the boy shook you out of your thoughts another time by sitting down in front of you with a plate where exactly the same menus were organized, the greasy scent making your twisted stomach growl in hunger.

A question about why he had ordered the exact same thing for you and for him flashed in your mind as a thunderbolt, your tastes in food being rather complementary than similar usually, however you weren't expecting the answer he gave you in spite of you not having even worded your interrogation :

"It's… It's the Valentine's day menu" he first trailed off, his eyes meeting yours for a split second before you witnessed the frown that crumpled his traits as if he was embarrassed at himself.

He definitely was, because he knew how cheesy, cringy and ridiculous his demand was about to be, but it was the only idea he had had to satisfy his urge to word you how he wanted you to be more than a friend.

"I know it must be kind of awkward to have invited you at McDonald's on this special day we can't ignore with all the heart balloons, the advertisements, the couples around us… Y-You probably are wondering what you're doing here with me tonight anyway, but I just couldn't find the proper moment to ask you something without feeling like I'm gonna die on the spot before…"

He leveled up his pupils and held your curious gaze that had pierced right through him all the while, your heartbeat speeding up like a runner for his last 50 meters on the track, the taste of anticipation gracing the front buds of your tongue.

"But as I saw this menu on the subway walls, I thought this could help me seduce you and would rise up my chances because you love it so much. So… W-Would you be my Valentine and share it with me, Y/N?"

He whined and smacked himself lightly, his eyes shooting up to the ceiling and his nose wrinkling, and the urge to laugh bubbled at the back of your throat, the happiness of knowing he mirrored your feelings and the cuteness of his actions – being a first in front of you – getting the best of you.

"So it was a date" you smiled cheekily, taken aback by your own assurance as you looked at him with battling lashes.

"Yeah, it was. Not quite romantic, but at least I'm sincere" he chuckled shyly, bringing his left hand to mess up the mop of curls atop his reddening head.

"French fries and burgers can be quite romantic to me, especially when my boyfriend and I share the exact same menu showing we get along well to this point. What are roses compared to that?" you joked.

Chan bit his lip as he heard you pronounce the word "boyfriend" and in less than a second, he was standing up to sit next to you, before his large hands grabbed your face smoothly.

"I've been craving to do that more than to eat a burger, can you imagine that coming from me?" he half-whispered and once he saw you smile in response, he took it as his green light and stole a kiss from your plump lips.

That first time you kissed, he had tasted like tangerines, probably the last thing he had eaten as a snack before he had come to meet you. And the second time, as you got out of the fast-food with your fingers intertwined with his, he had tasted like ketchup and cola ; but the two times, it turned out to be the most appetizing taste your lips had been met with, his own then becoming a source of hunger every time they grazed your mouth, as you couldn't get enough of them.

                                              February 14th, 2018.

 "That's perfect baby, one more take and we can go, I promise" Chan tenderly addressed you in the mic from the other side of the small studio he rented with the 3RACHA members, and you quickly gulped down a sigh as you nodded at him.

He was lucky you loved him enough to be patient in spite of the pile of anger that had slowly been building itself down the pit of your stomach during the last weeks. It was your first-year anniversary so you were willing to not mess everything up, still you knew you were going to talk to him about what was bothering you sooner or later.

The main problem was that as time passed by, Chan seemed to be caring for you and loving you just like he had been during the first flourishing months of your relationship, yet exclusively once it was the two of you between the four walls of the dark studio, where he would solicit your help to record a few things, complimenting your voice again and again, his eyes closed as he listened to it on a loop in his headphones.

At first, it had touched you and made you proud that he had asked you to feature on the songs he had written with the boys ; but now, it simply bit at your nerves to see him in pure ecstasy at the sound of your voice more than before you, his girlfriend, standing in front of him inside a living body. He had told you about his collabs with his ex and even had made you listen to them with a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction on his traits as he was still proud of what they had produced, but to your pleasure, he had been on cloud 9 when you had accepted his offer of being the one to sing with him on his first real mixtape.

Because yes, Chan and his two friends from 3RACHA were soon going to drop their first mixtape on various strealing platforms, thanks to one of the foreign students your boyfriend had helped all too kindly and whl had then testified of his gratitude by talking about them to his father who had connections with people in the music industry.

And ever since that project had been on tracks, Chan had started to get literally obsessed with writing, producing and moreover, getting a glimpse of your voice in his songs. You had been flatted like every single girlfriend of a musician would have been in your boots, however, you had ignored that "working" with him could cause a new kind of frictions between the two of you, the lookout for perfection sometimes tensing him.

Still, every time he had been too harsh on you, he had always managed to make himself forgiven with apologies or surprise visits at your dorm room late at night, if you had left him alone in the studio after having told him to piss off and to look for another backup singer, "why not his ex whose voice he liked so much".

Indeed, what angered and saddened you the most, was that you had reluctantly admitted to yourself that he somehow was trying to accomplish what he hadn't with his ex, this dream of having found his muse in love and in music.

You could see he was living his best life, but you weren't sharing the same dream. You weren't the girl he was seeing in you, and as much as you loved music, as much as you appreciated how he let you enter in the intimate bubble it represented for him, you weren't aspiring to do this forever. You weren't a duet, you were a couple ; you weren't his backup singer, you were his girlfriend ; and you had to remind Chan of that.

On top of it all, to worsen your love life by making you overthink of him, Chan was practically not sleeping anymore, his days spent in classes and his nights spent composing. It had caused him to having kind of fainted in your arms more than once, the scariest time being at an underground performance, where you had thankfully been in the front row to catch him. Yet even despite his body sending him signs of how unhealthy the way he led his life was, his passion turning scarily into a fixation, he still couldn't stop himself from devoting his body and soul to it.

"Happy first anniversary, love" Chan muttered against your lips as he had entered the small recording booth where you had been standing in for a – way too long – moment, and you instantly melted under his touch, as if his fingers brushing your clothes and the skin of his mouth on top of yours absorbed any hint of your previous anger and frustration.

Oh damn, you loved him so much. But why couldn't he love you back as he simply used to, by engulfing you in the corridors, by video calling you on the weekends to spit nonsense, by drunk texting you that he was missing you, by waiting for you on Mondays and Thursdays instead of going straight to the studio with Jisung and Changbin?

You missed his friendship and his spontaneous side, as you craved for the thing you liked the most about your relationship in the first place : your ability to discuss about anything and everything for hours, like your buddy-selves had used to do before you had started to officially date.

Yet every single time he would finally grant you some of his kisses, their deepness being felt by the way his eyes bored into yours and how he exhaled intensely as if your touch never ceased to turn him upside down, you stopped being upset because of him as it reminded you that you knew, he was just being passionate.

You knew you had to support him, you knew you had to be the one to at least stick by his side as his path towards his dream was getting narrower yet clearer ; nevertheless, a selfish and hurt voice kept on whispering to you how bad you wished to go back to before this project had ever been mentioned, how bad you wished he had his attention on you and you only more often.

"Listen to this…" he mumbled in a sigh with an arm still snaked around your waist now that you were back into the mastering room, and you heard your voice chant through the speakers, making you cringe and hide your face in the crook of his neck.

Chan kissed the top of your head while chuckling at your reaction, and he pressed a touch on the keyboard that replayed the small part all over again.

"Stop it, I hate hearing myself" you whined, giving him a slight tap on the back.

"But I fucking love it" he smiled as he closed his eyes, a breath of air leaving his nostrils and passing through your hair.

"And me? Do you love me?" your despair had suddenly blurted out without asking for permission, and you felt him tense a bit before you.

Silence. You didn't move, biting your bottom lip in regret but also in anticipation, as you somehow felt relieved by having asked the question which had buzzed into your mind lately.

"Hm? What's that question baby?" Chan asked you worryingly, his fingers gently grabbing your chin to turn it away from his chest and make you look at him.

"Why don't you answer it?" you replied back, your heart playing the drums and your palms turning moist.

Seeing the look of incomprehension painting his traits, you sighed and only planted a small kiss on his lips, tiredness taking the best of you as well as deception to see he definitely was not noticing how he had said he loved your voice all the time for weeks now, but without ever saying the three words eight letters to you directly.

"Wait Y/N, what's wrong? Tell me" he ushered you, blocking you by tightening his grasp around your frame when you tried to walk away, and your butt came back in contact with the huge desk.

"Nothing, it's just… Thank you for loving my voice so much, but I would gladly appreciate it if you loved me more" you bluntly explained, not even caring about how sincere you were being, without any filter to soften your tone.

"What's that nonsense? When I tell you I love your voice it's also a way for me to tell you I love you, you should know that" he protested with a slight furrow of his eyebrows, his pupils searching for any clearer explanation on your face.

However, his answer didn't satisfy you, it did quite the reverse ; it angered you.

"How can I be sure anymore when you look at me, praise me, reach out to me only once we're in this studio?" you crossed your arms firmly. "And look, you did love Jihye's voice, but it didn't work out, so sorry if I'm doubting"

"Wait- Why are you bringing her up now? What's the real problem here? I don't understand you" Chan took a step back to have a better sight of your scowl.

You slowly exhaled your fury that was suddenly flaring your guts and making you see red out of nowhere. Every single thing you had kept for yourself was resurfacing like the lava from the pit of a volcano, and you definitely burned your boyfriend as you exploded and let it all out :

"Maybe you don't understand me anymore, just as I'm having a hard time to understand you. We're always talking about music, you're always in the studio, and seems like you're only loving me and wishing to see me behind that glass with headphones on. Because otherwise, you're unreachable, Chan. You're like in your own world, and I feel like I'm existing just when you need me to be, because if I don't reach out to you when we're not here, you don't."

The jaw of the blonde boy had slightly fallen in surprise but he was quick to clench it as he passed a hurried hand through his soft strands of hair, and he was the one to heave a sigh this time.

"Is this what it is about? I thought you were rooting for me, I thought you wanted me to talk about what was going in my head, that's our number one rule, so yeah, actually, nowadays, my head is all about that mixtape, I'm sorry. You should know this is important to me" he explained with an unreadable expression masking his face, before it switched to a hurt one as he had spoken out the last words.

"I know that, I know, but what I don't know anymore is if I am important to you as well" you retorted, a familiar burn spreading behind your eyelids and telling you the tears were coming. "You don't reassure me on that point anymore."

"But what should I do to reassure you? If you don't get the proof that I love you when I'm asking you to sing with me and when I'm praising you, then I don't know what to do? I-I'm just super confused right now because you're blurting everything out of nowhere!" his voice was a tone higher but you didn't guess that it wasn't due to some anger but rather frustration.

"It is NOT out of nowhere, Chan! It's just that you can't read my expressions anymore, nor guess what I want too! You think we're having the perfect relationship right now, but I don't!" you then broke into sobs, to the greatest surprise of your boyfriend who immediately decreased the distance between the both of you. "Look at us, we're here in this fucking suffocating studio again, even when it's our first anniversary! We don't do anything besides that, we don't do simple and random things as we used to before, and I fucking miss it… That was perfect for me"

You cried in his black shirt, your ear against the left part of his chest so that you could hear how fast his heart was beating, while he was caressing the back of your skull soothingly.

"I-I'm sorry babe, I didn't know… I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" he was muttering again and again, his lips brushing the top of your head.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry" you abruptly calmed yourself down, retreating from his hug and looking up to him whose eyes were shining with worry and sorrow. "I already can guess in which position I'm putting you, and I don't want it."

"What are you talking about?" his voice had turned low, almost a whisper, as his palms came to grasp your face.

"I can't be asking desperately for your affection if you're not thinking by yourself of giving to me, I can't be asking you to go back to what we were when you're going ahead towards your dream, I-"

"No, no Y/N don't do this, please" he pleaded as he finally got where you were going, his head shaking from the left to the right. "This is not what I want"

"And I can't ask you to drop that project or to spend less time on it for me, because I know how important it is for you and for your dream, and because I love you. So I'd rather step aside, so you wouldn't have to worry about me now that I said what I said. I can't be that burden, I wouldn't forgive myself if I become the reason why you work less on your music."

You were so sad, and you had felt so sorry as you had caught the confused and hurt look on his face as he firstly had believed you weren't supporting him anymore, that you couldn't think of any other solution that the fatal one.

"I'm sorry I know I'm hard to live with these days but it'll soon be over, please stick with me a little bit longer, please…" Chan tried to reason you, his thumbs wiping your tears away. "I love you, I swear I do, it's just stress that's eating my brain, but I'll find a compromise, I swear"

"No, Chan. Because after this mixtape, will come another one, and surely multiple others because you guys are talented, and I can't ask you to lessen the time you spend working on it if this is what it's supposed to take" you denied, your puffy eyes turning away from his as you were dozing off in a black hole of despair.

"I can do it. I will do it. I spend too much time on it, I know that" he ensured. "Stay with me."

You broke into another set of tears once again, and this time, as he saw his words had hit your sensitive chord, Chan turned your face to his and kissed you with a need you hadn't known he was feeling, something so desperate, all the while leaving his eyes open to watch your face he cherished so much. Soon, your arms were around his neck and his around your waist, and soon, you were making out like two valentines far from breaking up would on their first anniversary.

                                               February 14th, 2019.

 He couldn't find a compromise as his popularity had kept on increasing, and you couldn't bear hearing him telling you "sorry" again and again as you had felt guilty every single time, so after one year and four months of dating, you had chosen to break up, for his and your own good. You loved him and you knew he loved you too, but it seemed like you weren't able to be together, at least for now.

On this Valentine's day, you were extremely lonely, a single phrase banging against the walls of your otherwise empty head : "It would have been our two years today". It was two weeks before back to school, your fifth and last year at the university being long awaited, and as much as you felt excited, you dreaded seeing Chan again.

You both had remained what we could call "good friends" as you shared the same groups of buddies, forcing you to spend some time together at lunches, but moreover during classes as you were in the same major, him having specialized in recording while you had been attracted to the marketing and promotion faucet of Music. Your heart had ached every time he had greeted you with a small smile, or every time you had caught his stare on you at the few parties he had attended when he had not been in the studio – the parties being the ones where he had been asked to perform.

And every time he did perform, you had fallen in love with him all over again, as much as you felt proud of how fast he was growing musically, his lyrics, instrumentals and arrangements getting sharper and sharper, and comforting you in the idea that you had made the right choice. You had made the right choice, yes, but when it was time for school breaks and you couldn't see him daily, you missed him, and the lack of his presence hit you like a boomerang right in your face.

You ignored if he, too, craved for your company and your touch as much as you did. Because in class, in the broad daylight, he was always shining, still throwing smiles at everyone, still cracking jokes to his friends, in spite of the dark circles visible under the two black gems that were his eyes. So as March and back to school was approaching, you were scared to be met with him fully recovered after having spent the winter break away from you. You feared he would be the first one moving on, when you were stuck at the same place you had been back when you had broken up, the only thing helping you to get through it being his success in music.

3RACHA had now dropped three mixtapes in less than a year and were getting more and more recognition in the rap and music industry overall, labels only waiting for the members to finish their studies just like they had asked before darting their claws right at them.

I made the right choice, you repeatedly thought to yourself as you took a big bite of your McDonald's hamburger with contentment, your eyes fixed on the TV's screen playing "Bridget Jones's Diary" instead of savoring it with your boyfriend, because you were now a single woman hating that fourteenth day of February as much as the other who were in the same celibacy situation.

                                             April 16th, 2019.

 It was a shiny school day, cherry blossoms having bloomed on the alley taking you to the university, and you entered your first class of your agenda in a good mood. Chan was seating at the back of the small amphitheater, wearing his famous leather jacket, a white T-shirt marrying his toned bust and shoved into a pair of black jeans ripped at the knees, falling on biker boots. As if he had felt your aura spreading into the room, he suddenly leveled up his gaze towards the door and when your eyes met, he swore he had to retain a hiss.

You were utterly beautiful this morning, and if his heart had already been throbbing at your sight now that he couldn't hold you in his arms nor kiss you, he didn't know why, on this Tuesday in particular, he was struck that hard. Maybe it was the clearest of the signs he had tried to ignore up 'til now, telling him he needed to get you back somehow. He knew you had done this for him but also for you, he knew he had made you suffer, but damn, his feelings for you didn't seem to be fading, on the contrary ; the less he was seeing you, the more he thought of you, and the more he loved you and longed for you.

Now that he had produced three mixtapes, he was starting to get a hold of his schedule and his organization, and he was convinced that he could manage to satisfy you all over again, just like he had before getting sucked up into that "music is my life" spiral shit.

So as your eyes lingered on each other for a bit too long, as he caught a spark of need into your two orbits even if you had tried to put on a pokerface, Chan was pushed further towards his decision to make a move on you after having respected your unilateral decision for so long.

Time for lunch had come, and your group of friends within your class decided to eat outside and then to chill at Jihye's apartment for a while, the next course being a 6 p.m. Yes, Jihye and you had come to somehow grow close to each other as she had ended up being your partner on a project during the second semester of your fourth year and, surprisingly, she had even comforted you as you had broken down into tears in front of her during your brainstorming session at her place.

She was sweet, lively, bold, so there was no reason for you to despise her ; moreover, she sure hadn't any remaining feelings towards Chan as she had even offered you her help to get you back with him, which you had politely refused, because of how sure you were about your decision being "the best for the both of you".

You – not so surprisingly – ended up eating at McDonald's, Chan seated at the far end of the table so pretty much the furthest he could be from you, and a girl from the group never ceased to flirt with him, her crush on him completely obvious now that you knew about it, as one day, she had come to ask you if you and him were definitely over and if you were okay with her trying her luck. Yet, he seemed not to care as you only witnessed his glances at you from the corner of his eye, sometimes smiling at you when he saw how your brows furrowed, as if he didn't even care having been caught.

What's with him…?

Soon, out you were wandering in the streets with your ex, Woojin, Jisung and Changbin, the rest of your pack having stopped at an ice cream shop while you had chosen to look for a convenience store, your stomachs craving for the worst snacks for your stomach but the best to spend a lazy afternoon doing nothing.

The boys were loudly chatting and running before you while Chan slowly walked next to you, eyeing discretely your face as you were echoing their laughs, their jokes and crazy attitudes making you crack up. You seemed to be shining a dozen times more than the sun that was up in the sky and burning the top of your heads, the weather being particularly hot for a spring day. And as if he had been blinded by your beauty literally speaking, Chan suddenly felt dizzy from staring for too long, the reflect of the rays of the sun on the shopwindows you were passing not helping him getting his senses back.

He blinked a few times and looked in front of him, but the whole road was burning his eyes with a vivid white glow, and he got nauseous, bringing his arm in front of his eyes to protect his vision. However, the uneasy feeling had already spread down to his feet, making him chilly and panting as he brutally interrupted his steps, and the last thing he saw before his legs gave up on him, was your face as you had turned back to him, your voice calling out for him suddenly blurry in his ears.

"Chan! Chan what's wrong? Chan?!"

Out of a sudden, the blonde boy was falling frontwards, right into your two arms who had been ready to catch him, and you heard him moan as his head landed heavily against your right shoulder. You groaned as all his weight was passed onto you, before you called out his name again, however the two arms that weakly wrapped around your waist interrupted your flow of panic as it showed you the boy was still conscious. His whole body was shivering, yet his breathing was steady while yours was messed up by your sobs.

"You're not sleeping, again? Why? Why don't you sleep huh? Look at how you scared me!" you were scolding him, your love for him doubling your worry and your will to kill him for depriving himself from good nights of sleep.

"Hm… 'M sorry…"

You moved closer to the shop behind you and squatted slowly, your back longing the wall, taking him down with you in the process so that he could sit. Once his legs had been extended on the tar, you held his bust up with your two hands on his shoulders, ignoring how the leather of his jacket that had taken the sun was burning your palms. A shadow suddenly loomed over you as the boys had come back running once they hadn't felt you walking behind them anymore, but they quickly recognized the scene as being their friend's "classical" fainting due to his lack of rest.

"Changbin, I told you to make sure he was getting any sleep" you reproached to your friend whose eyes were filled with the same worry as yours, and you saw his expression mute into a sorry one as he saw how you bad were crying.

"I was sure he was… We got back to the dorms together each time, but I guess he only makes it seem like he's sleeping once he's in his bed…" he mumbled as he looked down at the Australian guy who was slowly regaining consciousness.

"Babe…"

"It's fine, Chan, I'm here. Just breathe. It's fine, it's gonna be alright, hm? It's gonna be alright if you just breathe, and get some rest, please" you reassured him as one of your hands left his body to dry the waterworks on your steaming cheeks.

"I'm sleeping… I just didn't sleep the past week… Because I was too busy thinking of ways to get you back…" he half-mumbled half-chuckled, his head slowly raising so that his tired eyes could meet yours.

Your heart jumped up your throat at his declaration and smoothly, the three friends who had been towering the both of your sitting figures retreated. Chan let out a deep sigh at your lack of response and, magically, he found enough strength to gather his legs and squat in front of you, his knees practically touching your bust. You could feel his profound breathing caress your face, the air drying the wet traces your tears had left, and the way he looked at you took your own breath away.

"I just miss you, so bad, y'know? Let's get back together, I'm in love with you and seems like it won't change" he said in a loving but hoarse voice.

Small pearls of sweat were forming at the base of his forehead, humidifying his long strands of hair he pushed back with a shaky hand.

"I found out how to manage my time, now… I can't be apart from you anymore, I've used up all my ideas for songs about breakups and sadness and regrets" he softly laughed, his dimples reappearing and they got the best of you as they made him earn a smile from you. "I won't disappoint you nor will I put you aside. So give me a second chance, hm? Trust me with my choice just like I trusted yours, but I don't think we're better without each other anymore"

"You twit" you only responded as his confession had pulled at the right strings of your heart, the ones of hope, of lingering feelings, of need, of lack.

You could depict the sincerity in his eyes, and you could guess that he had waited for this day to come, the one when he could ensure you he was able to manage his love for music and his love for you. He had respected your decision and had learned from it, only to find a way to make it work out with you again. You delicately rose your two hands up and cupped his face, spotting how he leaned into your touch and how his nostrils dilated as he took in a deep breath, and slowly, you got closer to him, giving him a single but soft kiss.

Then, Chan let himself drift forward to land his two hands on each side of your head on the glass, and he extended his neck to steal another kiss from you, then a third and a fourth one, until a scraping of a throat interrupted your make up :

"Let's go, lovebirds, they're waiting for us at the apartment" Jisung informed you and you quickly stood up, helping Chan to do so before holding his waist as you walked to make sure he wouldn't fall again.

Once you were at Jihye's apartment and after a lot of wooo's, claps and whistles your classmates addressed you as they saw you coming in each other's arms, you directed yourselves towards the bed at the far end of the living room, where you made Chan lie down so that he could at least get a little bit of rest before the next class. And because he just had retrieved your skinship after too many months of only dreaming of it painfully, he couldn't get enough of you, so he dragged you down with him before you even had the time to get him a cup of water.

You pulled the cover over the both of your bodies lying on the side and ignored the sly remarks your classmates made as they installed themselves on the sofa which had its back on you, and immediately, your boyfriend pulled you closer to him and kissed you with a good pressure of his mouth against yours.

"Oh my god how bad I missed that" he murmured, his lips still grazing yours, and you shivered at the sensation.

You had missed him as well so you couldn't refrain your hands from climbing up his back and sneaking slightly under his white T-shirt, making him groan softly.

"I want you…" he shamelessly admitted, causing you to bite his lip teasingly before peppering his jaw and neck with pecks.

"I don't think you're capable of doing anything right now, you're out of energy with your insomnias" you chanted discretely. "And I don't understand how you can even think of that as we're lying in your ex's bed"

Chan laughed, his chest shaking against yours and his smile spreading from ear to ear, as he had also missed your nagging temperament.

"Maybe that's a kink…"

You kicked his feet he then tangled with yours and he laughed even more before engulfing you the closer he could to his body. You got drunk on his scent, that familiar, welcoming, warm perfume that had tinted all of your belongings back at your dorm room ; but it sure didn't feel the same smelling it directly on him.

"Let's skip classes then…" he offered, his words still trailing off before he winced in pain as you pinched his skin.

"Certainly not, it's my favorite" you growled against his chest.

"Sure it's not more interesting to study my body?" he joked, looking down at you just so he could catch your annoyed expression.

"I didn't miss you actually" you resigned yourself, only earning a series of kisses in return. "And I already know your body by heart, nothing more for me to learn."

"You know, time has passed since the last time you saw it, you would be surprised as to how the gym has helped-"

"Shut up and sleep, you won't get what you want. At least not before the end of the lesson we're definitely going to in four hours" you interrupted him as you shut your eyes, inviting him to do the same.

"So you're willing to take your sick boyfriend back to class? When he's fainted? Wow Y/N, I didn't know you could be so heartless" he scoffed, his cheerful voice having retrieved all of its melody now that he was in a resting position.

"You should have slept, not my fault, it's the price to pay" you stuck to your decision, poking his chest lightly while keeping your eyelids closed.

"You should have come back to me sooner if you still loved me that much" he murmured into your ear before he kissed your temple lovingly and as usual, you melted in his two arms that seemed to have regained all of their strength.

"Same goes for you" you grumbled as you finally stared back at him.

His face was so close after having been just a fading memory in your head for so long, and you found yourself having a racing heartbeat as if it was the first time you both were that intimate.

"I love you." Chan then declared solemnly, his right hand that had been in your back coming to sort the wild strands of hair that had fallen before your eyes. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, Bang Chan."

Two months and two days after Valentine's day, you were living the most special and romantic moment of your life, as you were secured into the arms of the man you loved and who loved you back, his eyes scanning your face with an enamored spark, his lips gracing yours with intense kisses, his toes playing with yours under the sheets just like any romantic movie would showcase in the scene where the two main characters woke up next to each other in the bed.

Chan had the ability to turn a simple day into one full of love and romance by just being himself, just like he had turned a special day into one with another meaning for the both of you, something deeper, something to celebrate not because the society told you to. And that is how April 16th, became as special in your heart as Valentine's day had once been.

[chivalin]

February 18, Weeks 5, 6 & 7: Appreciating Other Content Creators Recs

It has been about two and a half weeks from the last one, so it’s about time I posted this, haha. For those new to this, here’s the intro of the last month’s same thing that explains everything perfectly:

I promised in my New Year’s resolution to spread more positiveness around towards other content creators out there. So -  - here are some of my favorite creators, fics, art and other things - - that I want to appreciate once more. You can find more cool stuff in my Art Appreciation Blog dedicated solely for appreciating others’ contents. 

Basically I just want to spread some positiveness around because as a content creator myself, I know how much joy and encouragement even one show of appreciation can bring into people’s lives :)

FICS

@numinousbones - This is not what she wants to become, but if it is this or death, Meyrikh knows what she will choose. Always.

Now that I’m reading this again, I STILL LOVE THIS SO, SO MUCH! Like holy damn, the style drew me right in and made me practically devour the words while completely dropping my focus on everything else. The story flows really well and I just can’t help but marvel how they have managed to pack so much story and emotion into such a short fic. The character interactions between their Inquisitor and Khem are the icing on the cake and seal the whole piece, making it an absolutely flawless reading experience.  

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@cinlat - Interrupted Hunt 

Fighting scenes are not the easiest thing to write about since they need to hit just the spot to feel smooth and enjoyable. It’s safe to say that this fic has achieved that and even more, as it nailed the fighting amazingly well, making it flow very nicely forward. That and the catching style made me eagerly read all the way to the end, even leaving me to crave more. I also have to quickly mention that I absolutely adore both of the OCs presented here, so it made the reading experience even more perfect.

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@inyri - “Can I hold your hand?” prompt  

Ah, I do love how amazingly other people fill out any prompts they’re given by me or someone else, this one being no exception. I could instantly feel the connection between Nine and Theron, and absolutely loved their interactions as they felt very smooth and believable. The first hand-holding scene before the interruption is absolutely pure perfection and the ending is superb, and it left me with a wide smile on my face.

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Short Appreciations for 

@greyias for giving me years’ worth of laughter about their Jedi Knight, Grey, and Theron because the piece about them is absolutely hilarious; @storyknitter for writing such amazingly heartbreaking angst and hurt/comfort about their Jedi Knight, Vassanna, and Theron that I’m still weeping; @cipherninethousand for providing me all the pure fluff about their Sith Inquisitor, H’ashura, and Andronikos that makes me smile so, so widely;

@imperialgradients for providing such good writing about the young Grand Inquisitor with their awesome style; @chocolatefortheneurotic for absolutely destroying me with their ficlet, proving to me once again why they’re the best Vowrawn and Marr expert out there in my eyes

ART

@koenigin-mercedes -  Zeltron & NSFW Twi’lek

First one offers an absolutely vibrant colored Zeltron that is such an eye-catcher it’s hard to look away. I love the matching background and of course how well-made the whole piece looks.

About the second one, even though I might be a bit biased when it comes to Twi’leks, it’s still an amazingly done piece. All the details, all the muscles and the expression- hot damn, this is the first time I have thought about wanting something on a body pillow (xP) because damn. Just amazing work.

THEY ARE LITERALLY THE GOD/GODDESS OF ART OH MY GOD. You don’t get it, when I saw their art the first time, I died and was reborn as a new person, filled with joy and wonder with no negativity inside. Their vibrant colors, clean lines and absolutely professional quality art made me gape and sob endlessly because it’s just that perfect.

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@zephhhhh - Imperial Agent + Hunter & gorgeous OC

First one has such a nice, humorous tone to it that it makes me laugh out loud. I love the red outlines and the expressions (seriously, absolutely amazing), and the way how natural and fitting the style feels.

Second one- damn. Just damn. It’s absolutely gorgeous, from the character and its details to the background. It’s very emotive and the longer I stare at it, the harder I clutch my chest because holy damn this is some quality content.

This person’s style is absolutely amazing. I love how distinctive it is and that it always makes me stop and look at their art a little bit longer, because I just want to take in every little detail and brush stroke. The darker tones are very pleasing to the eye and if I didn’t have more comments to give, I would just gush about their works endlessly.

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@trashmuh - NSFW Valentine’s Day & OC Fight Week starter

Hot damn to the first one because of reasons, haha. The composition is done really well, and I love the contrast between the lighter and darker colors. The expression is golden as well as the eye-catcher, the red lingerie. Absolutely amazing piece that definitely makes me interested in seeing more of their art.

Second one was for the OC Fight Week, and let me just first say that *everything* they have done for the OC Fight Week (here’s a link to all of them) have been absolutely amazing! They also earn a slow clap for productivity as there’s so many of them. But seriously, there’s so much movement and emotion packed into each picture that they’re just such a joy to see!

Another nice and distinctive style right here! I love how amazing their art looks with the thin, sometimes barely visible lines. The use of color is always highly pleasing to the eye and I absolutely love how smooth their art always looks.

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@wereleel - Jack doppelgangers & Claptrap

In the first one, they have done an amazing job making humans looks absolutely stunning in their geometric style. It fits the characters really well and gives the whole piece are very distinctive look. I love everyone’s expressions and the poses that are so sharp and clean.

The second picture deserves a deep ‘umm’, because how on earth have they managed to capture Claptrap’s annoyance so well and still make me want to stare at the picture for an eternity?? Seriously, this is some quality content right here, and they have definitely done an excellent job making Claptrap absolutely pleasing to look at while retaining the spirit of the character really well.

First of all, let me just say how much I love this person’s style. Because seriously, their geometric style is so distinctive and pleasing to the eye I can’t help but marvel how amazingly they do it. They have some serious talent and whenever I see their art, my jaw just drops because damn. It’s amazing.

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@popiell - Laser tag & Viper

I love the colors and composition in the first one, not to mention the style is absolutely gorgeous. It’s very emotive and tells a whole story on its own.

The second one… pure perfection. The expression and style on the Mirialan is amazing but I’m even more impressed by the viper. It looks absolutely amazing and its open mouth with bared fangs- damn, it looks so, so gorgeous.

What can I say, I’m a big sucker for distinctive and gorgeous art, haha. I pretty much commented on more than a few of their art pieces after the first one, just so I could see more of their style because it’s absolutely top notch. It’s so vivid and pleasing to the eye, not to mention the occasional humorous tags they leave in their work never fail to make the experience even better.

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Short Appreciations for

@spacelingart for their Hybrid Togruta/Sith Pureblood because it’s one of the best hybrids I have ever seen; @styliferous​ for their shirtless Andronikos that absolutely blew me away with the gorgeous style and good-looking background; 

@geirart​ for making my jaw drop the first time I saw this piece because it’s absolutely stunning from the character to the snake, and I just love how well everything fits together; @joan--of--art for making such an amazing looking OC piece with traditional art;

@dingoat for their fierce Ahuska piece that is packed so full of raw emotion I’m practically weeping over here; @moonlitalien for their purple gorgeousness that is absolutely hypnotizing, making it very difficult to look away; @princess-of-brillini for all of their AU art pieces, especially this Star Wars one, that are so amazing and very well done that I can’t help but gush endlessly about them

MY CONTENT*

*Because I’m proud of my works too but I don’t want to make a separate post for them, so putting them here will have to do lol.

Fics

I Love You (SFW, Inibri x Harkun, 620 words)

Reading this again made me completely die because it’s so sweet and fluffy despite Inibri being Inibri, haha. But for real, I just love producing content for these two. Because even though they come from vastly different backgrounds, they are still attracted to each other and want to be together, despite it not being the most logical thing for either of them to do.

Control & Fangs (NSFW, Inibri x Harkun, 634 words)

Continuing from the above, I love this relationship so much because of their dynamics. Even though it might seem from the “a former slave turned Sith Lord is smooching an Overseer” premise that Harkun’s in charge, that’s so not the case. I just love to portray this in smutty and non-smutty pieces alike, and it lends itself off to AUs as well. I had a blast writing the vampire!AU and definitely want to do more with it in the future.

Original Work

Finishing the first draft of my original novel

I’m damn proud of myself for being able to do this! It was a long and bloody battle, but I finally got it all done and can’t wait to start editing it (you know, starting the actual hard part lol) in a couple of weeks.

Art

Portraits of my SWTOR mains

I decided to gently dip my toes in drawing once again because of my fic writing break since I craved to create at least some content on this blog. It has been surprisingly fun, even though I’m still fumbling with practically everything, haha. But still, I’m very pleased with how the portraits turned out to be and how nice they look.

[chickadee333]

Impossible Love Masterlist

Without further ado, here is my finalized Masterlist for my novel Impossible Love. At over 85,000 words, you guys are serious readers to put up with this!

(Update: You can also find my fic on AO3 at this link. It’s easier to read there.)

As always, my intention is to write a good, well thought-out story with some sexy, smutty stuff thrown in, and I hope you enjoy it! I like to create some angst-y situations and just have things build up from there. A little sexual tension is fun, right?!? Just another fair warning: This novel contains adult content. Most of my chapters have extremely graphic depictions of sex and violence and, on one occasion, both of them together. But this is ultimately a love story, so I definitely hope you stick around for the ending.

Impossible Love: A Novel by Chickadee333 (aka D):

Chapter 1: A New Beginning

Chapter 2: A Troubled Past

Chapter 3: An Unspoken Lust

Chapter 4: A Forbidden Desire

Chapter 5: A Heartbreaking Discovery

Chapter 6: A Manipulated Promise

Chapter 7: A Welcome Freedom

Chapter 8: A Certain Homecoming

Chapter 9: An Uncertain Decision

Chapter 10: A Hostile Takeover

Chapter 11: An Indelible Mark

Chapter 12: A Time Together

Chapter 13: An Agonizing Choice

Chapter 14: A Forced Confession

Chapter 15: A Tormented Mind

Chapter 16: A Yearning Heart

Chapter 17: An Unspeakable Betrayal

Chapter 18: A New Normal

Chapter 19: A Terrifying Strength

Chapter 20: A Contrived Existence

Chapter 21: A Tragic Revelation

Chapter 22: An Imminent Return

Chapter 23: A Forever Future

(They really sound like romance novel titles, don’t they? I kinda did that on purpose since this is truly a love story...)

If you are interested in reading about my motivation and inspiration, please see my Author’s Note below!

I just wanted to give you a little background about my writing and my inspiration. Actually, my inspiration is all of you incredible people. If there were a Tumblrs Anonymous meeting, I’d be the one raising my hand saying, “Hi everyone, I’m a long-time lurker, first-time poster...” My fangirl head just explodes reading all of the crazy, sexy shit you post. And then the art that is on here! You guys are so fucking talented. My stuff is rubbish in comparison and I only hope that someday I can produce amazing art like all of you do. It is truly an inspiration. In fact, seeing the art on here is what prompted me to purchase my Wacom tablet in February. I eventually plan to have at least one drawing composed for each chapter, though that will take some time.

When I was a teenager, I voraciously read comic books (mostly X-Men) and fell in love with that world of characters and their struggles. I learned to draw by teaching myself forms, figures, shapes, and shadows as I saw them in the comics. I had always wanted to write and draw for comics, but that was a pipe dream and I instead went to college and grad school for something far, far different (science). So, this is my chance to fulfill my fantasy of writing and drawing as I always wanted. You have no idea (or maybe you do, actually) how satisfying it is to finally get this stuff out of my head and into print. When I was a teenager, my angst-ridden, sex-starved mind always wished that the comic books could have been a little X-rated—replete with sexy artwork, too. But it never happened and never would happen in mainstream comics, which is why I finally felt the need to let all of these words pour out along with the artwork to accompany them. It was almost like I was waiting for something like Suicide Squad to come by so I could latch onto it and create my ancillary, alternate universe.

I first saw Suicide Squad at the end of December and I was struck by the fact that there was so much opportunity to create a really interesting story that could never be shown in a PG13 movie (too sexy, too smutty). I spent the first three weeks of January letting the movie marinate in my mind while thinking about the characters and making up little fantasies in my head. Then I saw a note that I had left for myself one year earlier encouraging me to “write more”—which was especially jarring considering that I wasn’t writing at all. So, I decided that I would take the opportunity and start writing down my fantasies. It started with Chapter 1 and how I had wished Joker had broken out of prison in the movie. Instead of torturing Harleen, he would succumb to his pent-up desires and have sex with her. I thought it would end there but it just took off. I wrote 30,000 words in literally two weeks, and I’m continuing to write and ride this out as long as I can sustain it. I have my entire story fleshed out and outlined and I expect to have a total of 14 or possibly 15 chapters when it is concluded. Update: A little over 10 weeks later and I have finished 23(!!!) chapters at 85,000+ words, thus concluding my novel. I’m a little sad that it’s over and I definitely don’t want to stop writing, but I think I’ll focus on my drawings for now. But who knows... I have set up my story for a potentially interesting prequel (Joker’s backstory), so maybe I will eventually work on that... 2nd Update: I will be writing a sequel, not a prequel, and I expect it to be the same length (a long-ass novel, LOL).

I will admit that I am not an expert on the Joker and Harley. I have seen the Suicide Squad movie, but I have not read the novelized version of it and I do not plan to. I know the names of some characters (like Frost) from having seen them float around, but I have been making up my own characters to fit my own story. In fact, other than Joker, Harleen, and Frost, most of my characters are original to a degree. When I write, I like to envision my characters played by an actor/actress so I can describe them better and I will eventually share with you my “cast of characters” for this novel (I actually have it posted already in the end notes on my AO3 page). I also have a running soundtrack in my head as if the story were a movie, and I’ll share that with you all as well (also found at that link).

As for Joker and Harley, I know some basics about them from the movies, some comics, the animated series from the 90s, and things that I’m seeing you guys post here on Tumblr. However, I have never been happy with how the comics/tv shows/movies have portrayed characters like the Joker. It always feels like these kinds of characters are too often portrayed as two-dimensional as their image is on the page. Where is the range of emotion? Where is the depth? I love a crazy, insane character, but they are not compelling to me when there is only crazy and nothing else. Why are they crazy? What is their back story? What drives them? What are their motives? What made them who they are? Is there any piece of humanity within them that can be salvaged? That was one thing that I think they got right with Suicide Squad—Leto’s Joker was portrayed as not only an insane, trigger happy loose cannon, but also suffering emotionally in Harley’s absence. I like kick-ass characters that show vulnerability. It is fucking sexy. I think it is important to add those extra layers of personality in order to make the character feel more real.

As for my portrayal of Joker, I intended to show his emotional and vulnerable side. You know he has one. He is still a flesh and blood person, after all. And he was a real person before becoming the “idea” of the Joker. In my world, he had a normal family life as a child (until his family died in an accident), he went to school, he got some degrees, he used his genius brain to start a business, he had a fiancée and a baby on the way. But shit happened and he is now the way he is. He has anger management issues. He is violent. He is fucked up. And he accepts that. Having said that, however, I was never a fan of Harley Quinn obsequiously fawning over the Joker no matter what abuse he put her through. I do not condone domestic violence and it makes me feel pity for her when I think of her returning to her abuser. In stories where she is portrayed that way, I just want to grab her by the shoulders and tell her that she deserves better than that! I know I would not stay with my abuser—no matter how great the sex was. In real life, I work in a social services field where I have managed cases in which my clients have suffered for too long at the hands of their abusive spouse or partner. That is a fucking difficult thing to be confronted with. It is not sexy; it is heartbreaking. And I find that these real life experiences inform the way that I write. For that reason, I am writing my Harleen as a strong, empowered, independent woman. My Joker, while still the insane, trigger happy loose cannon, is written to show facets of vulnerability and emotion. I think that makes him more attractive to know that he is more than just “crazy” and abusive. I like to show that he has desires, dreams, and urges. I think that kind of depth and dimension can sometimes be missing from the comic books—not always, but sometimes.

I do want to say that there are some brilliant fanfics out there that follow comic book canon with the abusive Joker and the submissive Harley. They really hold true to the characters, and that is an incredible feat within itself—to take a character, to know their personality, and to write a story that is true to how they would act. It’s very impressive. I might finish reading with a feeling of “God damn, Harley, you gotta stop letting Joker walk all over you!” And, to me, that means that the writer was successful because they elicited a true emotion within me—whether it is pity or anger or happiness or angst. So, this is not a put-down for those who do write true to the characters. I have mad respect for you. It’s not my bag, baby, but I will read it and enjoy it and I will walk away having felt something and that is the most important thing. Art in any form should make you feel. It should make you react. It should shock your sensibilities. It should inspire. It should make you think. And that is what I hope my art—both my writing and my drawings—do for all of you.

Sorry to have blathered on for so long, but thank you for reading if you made it this far! Your likes, comments, reblogs, and messages bring a huge smile to my face when I see them. It’s like opening a present when I check my Tumblr activity and see that someone has reached out to me. And please feel free to reach out to me with any comments or questions about anything!!!

So, I thank you from the bottom of my heart and I’m so glad that you enjoy my crazy fantasies as much as I like writing and drawing them!

XOXO,

D

[amorremanet]

“what am i writing” meme

Okay, so, @bizeke​ tagged me in a, “what are you writing right now” meme, and I’ve been trying to figure out how I wanted to answer it because, for once in my life, I don’t have a huge pile of WIPs. Like, I’m deliberately trying to rein myself in and refrain from letting the rabid plot-bunnies have their way with my brain to the point that I end up getting nothing done because I get overwhelmed by how many possibilities there are and how many ideas I have.

Let me tell you what: as a Ne-dom (ENTP), this is one of the worst punishments that I could ever imagine and I wouldn’t wish it on anybody, like, ever.

But I’m actually trying to stick to it, because it’s in the name of trying to focus on and do right by the project that is my main Thing right now, in basically all areas of life. Unfortunately for my desire for instant gratification, it’s going to be long. I mean, it’s a novel, so that’s part of the deal and one just has to suck it up and live with that, or just never write novels unless you can crank them out at a Stephen King-esque pace. Unfortunately for how much I like the community (and validation!) that comes built in with writing fan-things, it’s also original fic (which is also scary as fuck, but hey).

So, to get this part out of the way first: the “as yet untitled because I suck and titles are hard fml” project is a novel. It’s a superhero story with LGBTQ protags who are also largely neurodivergent, mentally ill, and/or otherwise disabled. The main story concerns a ragtag bunch of misfits — some of them super-powered mutants and some not — who come together in a new team and in just trying to do some good in the world for various reasons (and working together because they all realize that they can’t actually do that much on their own), they stumble into a bigger plot and wind up pitting themselves against a half-shadowy cabal of big deal neo-fascist supervillains (some mutants, and some not, though in their case, the non-mutants are generally treated like pets, rather than people and full team members).

ngl, the three biggest causes for this project were:

1. I needed a new project for my thesis because fuck this shit, I don’t wanna be in grad school anymore, and after having my project jerked around by practically everyone in my department at one point or another, the fanfic thing I settled on wasn’t working and I am really well and truly beyond fucking sick of grad school;

2. I had this one character in particular — the oft-mentioned mutant disaster, Sebastian — who I initially drew up for this game that my Sunday night tabletop group was playing last summer. The idea of there being mutant superheroes was similar, but Double Cross’s system is heavily inspired by the Parasite Eve series of video games, with a little bit from the novel that inspired them (by which I mean that the rule-book is pretty explicit about it; sure, they build on the world in their own ways to give players more options for their characters, and bring in some other influences, but they don’t hide that their primary source of inspiration is Parasite Eve).

Anyway, the Double Cross system relies a lot on character-driven drama and works it into the gameplay (one example is the “Lois” system, where you make up NPCs who help keep your character tethered to their sense of humanity, so they won’t get completely taken over by the shiny super-mitochondria that have gotten inside them and could make them turn into a monster). Additionally, I’ve been playing with my GM, Jake, since we were in high school, and I know that he likes having as much stuff to use against the characters as possible. I also know that it makes games with him more fun because he gets better ideas that way

(which is also why I knew damn well that the short, historical setting horror thing we did in January and February was going to be short, but still gave him a ten-page backstory for my French Jesuit priest that I could’ve backed up with sources for, “yes, this was actually a Thing in early to mid-17th century Paris” or, “yes, this was part of the process of becoming a Jesuit in that time period” had he asked for them)

Which, for Sebastian, meant that I started writing with the intent of it being three things

a brief apology note to Dr. Maeda (a scientist Jake borrowed from Parasite Eve because he’s a really fun character, whom Seb hadn’t really had an altercation with? But with his self-deprecating humor that almost no one else finds funny, Seb had accidentally made Dr. Maeda think that he’d offended him, and he wanted to apologize for that);

one letter to his older brother Max that would’ve been written while Seb was in rehab (which, in an idea that I straight up lifted from Augusten Burroughs’s memoir, Dry, had the prompt, “write to someone close to you and express your feelings about them and your relationship” and it had a lot of instances where Seb quoted something from Oscar Wilde’s De Profundis and somehow, whether fairly on himself or not, connected it to his and Max’s situation, in which he cast himself as a fuck-up on the level of Bosie Douglas. It also had a lot of snarky footnotes);

and one that he would’ve written to Max after the party’s first big adventure together (the major TL;DR point of which was, “ahahahaha, I was trying so hard to get my life together but oh no, shit, I fucked up and everything is terrible, you were right and I was wrong and now I can’t give you all the details of why you were right because the FBI says a lot of it’s classified but you were right and I fucked up and oh my god why” — just… with a lot of tangents and backstory and yet more snarky footnotes)

—but because I’m me, I quickly lost control of that idea.

I figured out the entire timeline of major events (largely but not entirely by hand, and in a few places, there is arguably too much detail, like how I know all of the classes that Seb took in undergrad, where it all fit into his substance abuse history, and exactly how that exacerbated his already Not Good mental health)

I did a lot of writing and a lot more revising and then more writing and then some research — like sketching out a list of TV Tropes that applied to Seb and his backstory, and by, “sketching” I mean that I listed them, and in most cases, I wrote up explanations for why he deserved the tropes or how I was trying to play with them

some of which were fairly brief (e.g., the explanation for his exact brand of being a Stepford Smiler is only 185 words, most of them actually being about how he made it to nearly 30 without having anyone suggest that he might be living with depression)

while others were kinda not (like, the 2,400-word explanation of why he got, “Angst, What Angst?” and “Conditioned to Accept Horror” on his list, which got listed together because they were part of the same larger problem and helped to fuel each other)

I went through multiple versions of all of those letters except the first one (and, in the case of the second, even made the drafts full-on “canon” things in their own right, documenting Seb’s ongoing attempts at paring a draft down enough to share in group therapy, because that was part of the in-universe conceit about why he was writing to Max in the first place)

I added other letters still (like, one to Pete that Seb was writing in rehab, with the in-universe prompt, “list 99 problems that you have that don’t have anything to do with your brother or his wife, because seriously? you’ve been going on about him so much, it’s starting to feel like you’re talking about shit with him in order to get out of talking about anything else in your life”; and one letter to Max that Seb wrote before his first overdose, which would have jossed his, “oh yeah, totally an accident, can I go back to class on Monday please” lie because it was explicitly a suicide note)

—and all up, by the time Jake decided that he was having trouble bringing things together into a larger game after the first adventure, I’d written about one order of words

”Order” here meaning, “a unit of word length measurement equivalent to the length of Harry Potter and The Order Of The Phoenix, i.e. 257,045 words”

—which I exceeded somewhat but not by enough to make too big a difference, not least since most of these drafts will not be making an appearance in the novel itself.

So, I was like, “Well, fuck. I did all of that and we’re not even going to keep playing that game? ……Screw this, I didn’t do all that work for fuck-all nothing, I’ve gotta find something else to do with Seb and his story”

This first necessitated going back to the drawing board, scrapping a lot of the stuff that was directly related to Parasite Eve or Double Cross, or finding a new way to reconfigure it so that it wasn’t just me lifting shit from either of them

Because I’m me, that led to more and more ideas coming up, which in turn pretty much guaranteed that…… okay, yes, Sebastian got to be a POV character first, because in all due fairness, he was here first and the story wouldn’t exist without him…… but he’s not quite, “the main character” in the same way that, say, Harry Potter is (nor would he really want to be)

And TL;DR: this whole thing started because I wanted to help my GM make my character suffer, only for him to drop the game, after which I didn’t want all the work I did to go to waste and be totally meaningless, so hey

and 3. ……Well, I mean. I had a lot of ideas that I kept trying to turn into fanficcy things, but at a certain point, I just had to admit that they would have gotten into, “unless you can show why this is a legit interpretation or development for these characters, it’s going to be OOC” territory

and after enough rounds of this, I gave up and went, “Okay, fuck it, FINE. Rather than try to shoehorn any of my pre-extant fictional faves into these ideas that they do not actually fit into, only for the sake of writing them as fic and getting more or less immediate Validation, I’m gonna go write my own story! With mutants! And canon LGBTQ characters! And canon neurodiversity! Because FUCK IT, that’s why!”

I guess that one could say that I finally hit, “fuck it.”

In universe, the mutant thing isn’t being treated as an oppression allegory in its own right (I say, definitely looking pointedly at the X-Men, but not exclusively at them, because in fairness, they are so not the only guilty parties here), and the issue of metahuman licensing isn’t being used as a metaphor for any example of governments illicitly keeping tabs on oppressed or marginalized people.

Like, there are still major flaws in the system and how it’s enacted on people because it’s the U.S. government, but the entire thing is treated more like taking driver’s ed and going to the DMV because the fact of the matter is that we are talking about people who have shit like super-strength, telepathy, and heat vision, and it’s fair for other citizens to want to make sure that they can control their powers, and that they know and agree to abide by certain laws about how they can and can’t use them

(e.g., yes, it is considered rape if you telepathically coerce someone into sex. Exactly what charges you’ll face vary from state to state, but it’s still rape, and unless there are some seriously extenuating circumstances — like, say, if you have two teenage telepathic mutants who didn’t know that they were mutants and thus couldn’t control their powers, so both of them have broken the law here, but unless there was some other kind of force or coercion involved, neither can be held criminally responsible — you will be prosecuted if you get caught.

Whether or not you get caught is another issue entirely, and it’s a huge mess for a lot of reasons, but in theory, this is how the law works.)

The novel I’m working on now is also going to be the first in a series of four or five — give or take “Dunk and Egg”-esque tie-in stories, mostly because I’m still a Ne-dom and, even without all the world-building being set in stone at present, I’m already attached to and intrigued by several characters and parts of my world that aren’t part of the “main” storyline

(which is, itself, already an ensemble cast production, just with focal/POV characters for each installment because otherwise, I would probably pull a GRRM, get overloaded by all of the different POVs and trying to balance them effectively, and then either die or be photographed running around in a giant hamster ball because I’m trying to run away from my problems that I created all by myself)…

…but also partly because it is annoyingly easier to find potential “legit” places to publish shorter works and get yourself “legitimately” established by putting out some of those first.

You lot get three guesses each as to why I find this annoying, the first two don’t count, and if you guess literally anything but some variation on, “But, Kassie! You’re in the exact same TL;DR club as GRRM! One of your more popular TW fics was a 23k vaguely stream of consciousness beast in which you committed the same literary sin that you bag on Marcel Proust about all the time, because almost nothing actually happened”?

……then I probably love you for having such faith in me, but you have way too much faith in me because… yeah, no. That’s pretty much it. The “legitimate” “grown-up” publishing world’s fondness for short stories annoys me entirely because I don’t like being brief, or cutting things out, or so on and so forth.

Shit, I’m having enough trouble in Pages right now today, because I decided that this one beat in one scene of the novel was getting too far into territory that is actually meant for the chapter right after it, so I’m trying to figure out where to cut it, so I can then relocate the dialogue to where it makes more sense. Trying to be succinct…… is not one of my strong suits, period.

To be fair? The novel… well. It wouldn’t be a Thing without my years in fandom and my immersion in fan culture. It just would not be possible without that part of my background.

On one hand, that’s due to how many ideas I wouldn’t have been exposed to without fandom discussing them in the different ways that we have, and how many things I wound up reading or watching because I saw that other people were enjoying them and I wanted to know what was up, and then all the criticism that I saw from fans of said things about issues of how stories and media are shaped by the sociopolitical structures that content creators live with

And on the other hand, it’s because my story is a literary pastiche that is not entirely a deconstruction of the genre, but rather a recombination of different tropes and pieces of the superhero genre, plus pieces from other genres because fuck the idea that genres can or should be strictly delineated and kept separate from each other at all times that’s why, where I acknowledge that there is little room to actually do anything that is “entirely new” — both in the sense that we’re all influenced, both consciously and not, by everything around us, so you can make the far-end argument that nothing is “purely” or “entirely new,” since that would require things to be made in a vacuum, and in the sense that… well. I mean.

Come on, I’m working in an established genre that has had several different voices and perspectives chime into it in various fashions since it first got started with the original Superman comics in 1938 (and even that is arguably not the start, since the origins of the genre go waaaay the fuck back, and almost no one writing about the genre critically likes to let it just be its own thing without bringing up precedents like Gilgamesh, Heracles, and the Scarlet Pimpernel), and even if I weren’t also bringing in things from outside the superhero genre, I would have no significant chance of doing something that hasn’t already been done at some point, by somebody, somewhere.

Moreover, uh. I get why the Ang Lee Hulk isn’t everyone’s taste, I do. It’s not my favorite anything but any means, but I enjoy parts of it. But that being said, there are, in the superhero genre, certain expectations that certain tropes and story or character elements will appear in some fashion, even if they’re being brutally deconstructed, and Ang Lee tried his best to weasel out of a lot of them because he didn’t want his movie to have the, “stigma” of being, “just a superhero movie.”

Which is a shame, because a lot of his ideas about how he wanted to interpret Bruce Banner as a character, interpret the dynamic between Bruce and the Hulk, and so on? Those actually could’ve been really fun…… but he didn’t want to make, “a superhero movie,” so he ignored the value of all the shit that he should’ve been using to actualize these ideas on the screen, and he had to essentially paste that stuff on like, “Fine, here’s your superhero bullshit, you fucking comic book nerds”

Which all sort of adds up to, “I mean, I’m trying to challenge or play with some of these genre staples — and some of the more optional ones, I’m doing away with because they’re common but not necessary and I think they’re not part of the stories I want to tell, or they’re very particular to certain mediums that are not the one I’m working in — but…… fuck, man, it’s still a superhero story. It’s not like you can’t tell superhero-influenced stories without these things, but if you’re telling a flat-out superhero story, then…… yeah, you kinda do need to at least acknowledge them, and if you don’t have some kind of appreciation for the genre, then why the fuck are you working in it”

(And this is a brief aside to point out that Ang Lee isn’t the only content creator who’s been called a genius and has been guilty of going all like, “fuck superhero stories, they’re just pointless stupid trashy kid stuff for babies, lmao” while also being involved in working on one.

The list is probably even longer than I know, but I feel especially obligated to point out that Heath Ledger had nothing but disdain for the entire superhero genre before playing the Joker in TDK, literally only agreed to do that because Christopher Nolan was involved and Batman Begins had been noticeably “higher-quality” by most people’s standards than the Joel Schumacher Batman movies and the then-extant X-Men movies, and really only seemed to have come around about the quality of certain stories that he read as character prep — like The Killing Joke, The Man Who Laughs, and Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth

—and frankly, he and Nolan both seem(ed) to see those stories [plus a handful of others, in Nolan’s case] as special exceptions were, “not like all the rest of the genre,” rather than seeing them as indications of what the entire genre can be capable of.

Which is not to say that I acknowledge the validity of any other non-Cesar Romero live-action Joker, because unless someone really wows me or they come up with an idea that Mark Hamill could do live-action and managed to talk him into it, that’s probably not going to happen, and both Nicholson and Leto can eat me because they were just awful as the Clown Prince of Crime. Awful in different ways, admittedly, but still. Just. AWFUL. Absolutely abysmal.

It’s also not to say that the superhero genre is entirely awesome, since… lmao, Sturgeon’s Law, people. 90% of everything is probably some kind of bullshit. It can be entertaining bullshit, sure, but it’s probably still some kind of bullshit.

What I am trying to say, though, is that the entire genre is not special for having a lot of bullshit in it, because frankly, EVERY GENRE has mostly a lot of bullshit in it, so holding the superhero genre to some special double standard is ridiculous and elitist, and no, we shouldn’t look at things like Watchmen, A Serious House on Serious Earth, or anything else you might want to put on a, “special exceptions” list as being separate from the genre that spawned them.

They’re superhero stories. Barring some examples like Watchmen that have characters that were new when they first came out, these stories literally have characters like Batman and Superman and Wonder Woman running around, having adventures and fighting bad guys. Being of an allegedly, “higher quality” than any random issue you pick off the rack on Wednesday does not mean that they aren’t superhero stories

—and I realize that most of the people reading this already probably kind of feel the same about the elitist nonsense that goes on regarding pretty much every example of genre fiction, except for like big-budget sci-fi and fantasy that either sticks to very conventional models, and/or is written and/or directed by someone we might call an Auteur™, like Ridley Scott, James Cameron, or Guillermo del Toro, or like GRRM would be called if he made movies

……but this tendency grinds my gears anyway because the fuck what even, people. All of the genre fiction that gets bagged on like this has an established history with enough examples to prove that they are is just as widely varied in content and “quality” as yet another movie about a cis white dude and a cis white lady who want to be together but they can’t because of Reasons Or Something, wow such innovation, very forbidden, etc. etc. obviously NO ONE has EVER told a story like this before in the entire history of human storytelling, ha ha ha, GAG)

But anyway, as I was saying. Pastiche or something.

Still, it’s not a deconstruction properly because as much as I love and am creatively indebted to some of them — with Watchmen on the, “it has problems but I overall love it even if I don’t always agree with what Alan and Dave had to say or how they said it” side, The Dark Knight Returns on the, “Frank Miller can go step on a rusty nail and get tetanus, what a douchebag” side,

Deadpool in general on the, “I mean, I respect that you have a vision of what kind of fourth wall-breaking self-aware hijinks you want to get up to, and I enjoy it sometimes, but on one hand? For all I don’t agree with everything that’s said in Wisecrack’s “Philosophy of Deadpool” video, I do think it’s fair to say that you guys often have a lot in common with hipsters, and that you have the potential to do cool shit like Cervantes did Don Quixote, but that you often don’t go as far as you could with it, which can sometimes be kinda disheartening. More importantly, though, your vision is cool and has a place at the table too, but it’s not MY vision, so you do your thing and I’m gonna do mine and if I ever do get published, I hope I can meet Gail Simone because I would just die” side

and several others falling at various points of somewhere in the middle and shit — uhhh? It’s just??? Like?

I just… don’t… really… want to write a massive deconstruction?

I mean. I enjoy reading some of them (or there are others like TDKReturns, where it’s less that I enjoy them and more that they’re important to the genre’s history but I hate them and the only reason I haven’t literally set fire to my copy of that book is that…… shit, man, that thing was expensive, and if I set it on fire, I’d have to either buy a new one or get a .cbr file for free, which would be illegal and I obviously do not condone it, nope, not at all, nudge wink ssssh)…

and I won’t deny that they’ve influenced how I approach the genre as both a reader and as a creator (I mean, ffs, I have a minor character who was literally inspired by a mix of Rorschach and my desire to petulantly piss off every fucking dudebro fanboy who reads Watchmen and doesn’t get that Rorschach is supposed to be seen as completely reprehensible. Yes, he’s a different kind of reprehensible from Eddie Blake and Adrian Veidt, but all of them are still pretty reprehensible, that’s kind of the fucking point. The only so-called “heroes” in Watchmen who accomplish anything of major historical significance are either completely reprehensible, or they’re Doctor Manhattan and so far removed from their former sense of humanity that they might as well be on a different existential plane entirely)

……but, for all I enjoy deconstructions, I don’t want to write one, personally.

And anyway, the original point to all of this is that my story wouldn’t exist as it does without fandom because, on one hand, I got exposed to pretty much all of this through/because of fandom, or while I was in fandom; and on the other, the way that fandom relies so much on envisioning new possibilities for characters and stories, and combining seemingly disparate elements into new shapes, and mashing up tropes and ideas that don’t seem to go together but finding a way to make it work…… like?

That’s shaped me so much as a writer, even outside of fandom, that I don’t know where to begin finding examples of it in action, because it’s just everywhere in my writing tbh. And I don’t think that it makes anything I’m doing, “new” as such, because I’m probably overly aware of what most of my different influences are and how they’ve influenced me in which ways and so on…… but I don’t need or want to completely reinvent the wheel, I just want to have fun making up my stories and maybe bringing in something that other people enjoy and can read without feeling like their time was wasted, y’know?

…also, I will totally admit to certain fandom mainstay tropes and idioms having different degrees of influence on my story, and to deliberately trying to work in phrases like, “to toe out of one’s shoes” that are almost exclusively found in fanfiction because…… uh, I know where I came from, and while I might have various problems with where I came from on a pretty much constant basis, I still love and respect where I came from, so why not use some of our idioms and popular tropes?

………also? I’m doing it because I want to, that’s why.

Just like how there was no actual NEED, as such, for me to make Yael and Elizabeth a deliberate middle-finger to Marvel and their penchant for baiting Cherik, and then screaming, “OH WAIT NOOOOOPE, NO HOMO, DON’T LET’S BE SILLY, CHILLAX YOU STUPID FANGIRLS!!!!” — like I could’ve had them in the story and the world without doing that…

…but I wanted to do that, so I’m gonna do that, and since I’m not violating any copyright or intellectual property laws because what I’m doing doesn’t rip off anything more than general concepts that Marvel has no exclusive or protected ownership of, and even if it did, what I’m doing would count as a commentary or satire and be protected by the First Amendment and the US Supreme Court, therefore no one can do shit about shit to stop me from having my two badass older lady lesbians who are, in fact, married and are co-headmistresses of their school for the exceptionally gifted. Nah nah nah nah nah nah, ha ha ha ha ha ha.

(……………I am a serious adult writer who takes her writing seriously. …also, I’m sorry, and I’m done now, and thank you for reading if you have, and if you got to this finishing point, please go help yourself to like…… a cookie. Or five. Or idk, any kind of treat you want, I don’t know you and I’m not your boss, so I can’t guess what your idea of a treat is much less tell you what to do. Okay, I’m done now, bye)

ETA: ……oh, and I guess that I tag whoever wants to do this themself, because I just spent a few hours writing it and I don’t wanna look at it anymore, not even to pass the meme on, so…… heeeey, free invite, you can do a meme just because you want to and then blame me