#again 3 paragraphs that turned into 500 words

[goayda]

A Horror Tale

The smell was the worst part, worse even than the look of the putrid skin on the arms that were grabbing Izzy, dragging him down toward the pool of water that was flooding the belly of the ship. Their eyes were long gone, barnacles covering now the empty sockets, but still they had easily found him and got hold of him before he could react.

Izzy didn’t know where the crew was, or if they were alive at all, and when he tried to yell for help his lungs only managed to let out a desperate wheeze. The ship was sinking slowly, but the rotten corpses that had crawled through the breach on the hull weren’t waiting for it to go under completely to claim their victim.

Izzy thrashed around, trying to get free, but the corpses of the drowned sailors refused to let go and kept dragging him slowly toward the dark water. There were worse things under the seas than you would believe, an old pirate had told Izzy once, but he had been young and proud and had laughed at him. And now here he was, his worst fears made flesh.

He was going to drown, alone and scared, not even knowing why or even worse, not knowing if the crew was safe, if Stede was safe.

Izzy struggled desperately. His unicorn leg was getting loose in the fight, the smell of decay was suffocating him, he stretched his arm trying to grasp something that would help him, something to hold onto-

“Izzy! Izzy, darling, wake up!”

Izzy gasped, opening his eyes to find himself staring at the worried face of Stede Bonnet.

“Izzy, love, you were having a nightmare,” Stede said, softly.

Izzy panted, still trying to get his bearings as Stede slowly brushed his hair out of his face.

“Are you alright?”

Izzy nodded lightly, already starting to feel a bit stupid about the whole thing. Then he realized his hand was gripping Stede’s arm tightly and immediately let go.

“Sorry,” Izzy mumbled, embarrassed. “Just a stupid nightmare.”

“Nothing to apologize for, Izzy,” Stede replied with a smile. “Unfortunately we all have those sometimes…”

A chorus of sleepy voices agreed from nearby.

“Happens to everybody,” Roach said from his sleeping sack on the floor next to Wee John.

“Not if the mind box is closed,” Frenchie said from the settee. “Well, maybe sometimes…”

“It sounded bad, Izzy” Pete said. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

There were some groans coming from different places in the cabin.

“Not now, pleaaase,” Lucius whined, hiding his face under their blanket.

“Better in the morning, when we all have had some rest,” Stede agreed.

“We shouldn’t have let them sleep here tonight, they’re going to get used to it,” Izzy grumbled.

“Well, it’s really my fault for picking a horror story for story time,” Stede replied, apologetically. “But they understand it’s a one-time thing and that we need our privacy, right, crew?”

“Yes, captain,” they replied as one.

“Now, everybody, back to sleep,” Stede ordered as he curled up against Izzy once again.

The first mate let out a sigh and relaxed slowly, feeling safe and warm, and he felt asleep not much later and no nightmares bothered him this time.

[jintaka-hane]

Crooked Nose

Masterlist

500 words | gn!reader | fluff | img src Summary: Someone needs to tell the captain he’s got something on his nose… I dedicate this to my moot wife @armiliadawn, whom I love dearly, and I know she loves our captain's crooked nose 😘

Lost in your book, legs crossed on the couch, you hear the armchair across from you groan under the weight of a massive body. From the way the springs creak, it could be a few of your crewmates piled on there. But then comes that familiar, gruff growl, and you don’t need to look up to know who it is.

"Hey, Cap," you say, not looking up until you've finished the paragraph. When you finally do, he's right where he always is. Sprawled out in his usual way, one arm draped over the backrest and one leg slung over the armrest, taking up more space than he needs.

“Hey,” he mutters. He’s been working in the workshop again. You can tell by the faint metallic smell clinging to him and because he always crashes on that chair after tinkering. But tonight, something about his face catches your eye.

A dark smudge stands out on his pale, freckled skin, streaked right across the crooked bridge of his nose. Grease, probably. Must’ve scratched his nose while working.

You snort before you can help it, and he shoots you a scowl, settling even deeper into his cocky lounge position on his beloved armchair.

“…What,” he grunts.

“Nothing, just…” you say, grinning as you push yourself up and wander over. He watches you with that flat, unimpressed stare of his, brow lifting ever so slightly. And when you reach for him, hand hovering a little too close to his face, he grabs your wrist, fast and rough.

“Woah, what the fuck,” he snaps. Because, honestly, who knows if you’re about to slap him for something he did and forgot about.

You laugh, slipping free with ease.

“Relax, you’ve got a smudge. Right there.” You wave feebly at his nose. “Let me get it.”

He grunts again, not exactly giving permission, but not stopping you either. Your finger tips nearly grazes his face as you lean in closer and he snarls even more, squeezing his eyes shut.

You bite back a laugh, watching the captain tense up, his nose scrunching the second your fingertips touch him. You tap at the smudge lightly, but when it doesn’t come off, you’re forced to rub it away with your thumb, tracing the sharp angles of his crooked, hawkish nose.

Your lips curl up without thinking as you do it. Seeing him so vulnerable under your hands… lined eyes shut tight, that deep scowl still in place… your heart skips a beat or two, and your cheeks start to burn.

Shit.

“All done,” you finish in a hurry, pulling back like you’ve been burned.

The muscles in his face immediately relax, but when he opens those sharp amber eyes, they land right on your flushed cheeks.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Nothing!” you blurt, scrambling back onto the couch, snatching up your book and holding it up like a shield.

And that was the moment you realized, with no hope of turning back, that you'd fallen for that insufferable bastard—the arrogant, self-assured captain of the Victoria Punk.

..........................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[moonystoes]

Safe Dance - Elisa De Almeida x international!reader

summary: this pretty much explains it all lol.

Warning: Sexual assault, old man being a creep, mentions of alcohol, not well written, slowww burn like it's pissing me off too im sorry, elisa being our protective queen.

a/n: i'm bringing this up again, i just started writing, especially fics as long as this (the last one -and the first- had only 500 words). So feedback and help is needed!! also sorry i got a little bored and wrote too many useless things lol.

w/c: 5.218k

You knew you needed to celebrate your high GPA after graduating from your bachelor degree at some point. But you've been putting it off, feeling like it's too much effort and energy for your introverted self. It's no secret French people are distant towards foreigners, it's been something known worldwide (which is ironic since a big part of their population are people of color coming from different countries from Africa and Asia). But you ignored all the toxic things you heard about France when you unexpectedly got a scholarship into the University of Paris.

Now, four years later, you are still alone. You have made friends in some projects, but right when the project is over, your friendship ends as well. Your mom has messaged you a long paragraph on how proud she is of you, but the loneliness is still wearing you down. You knew you probably looked silly walking down the street, wearing a short V-neck dress with high heels obviously to party, but there is a permanent frown on your face.

When you looked up from your phone, you didn't even need to look for the club. You can feel the music vibrate the ground and there is a huge line at the entrance. You turned off your phone and waited in line, wanting to just drink all day and celebrate by then. You checked on your friend (an international student like you) who promised that she'll be here, but your message was left on delivered for 2 hours. 

After 15 minutes of scrolling through your Instagram and 3 missed calls to Liz, it was your turn to show the security your ID. His dark eye bags showed you that he was too exhausted to care, so he took less than a second to glance at your card before returning it to you, and opening the door for you in a frustrated way.

You walked in awkwardly, couples grinding and dancing around you, you felt disgusted - and secretly jealous. The club was dark and had red LED lights, it was filled with large posters of icons and models from the 70s, and of course the playboy magazines of women wearing lingerie. It looked good enough for you to settle down on the bar stool and immediately order a light drink. 

While you were sitting there to decide whether you should dance or wait for Liz (you were honestly frustrated at her for ditching you with no explanation), the bartender passed a large drink towards you. You glanced at him with a confused look, “oh sorry, I didn't order this.”

“Yeah I know, it's the man there.” He pointed to the table on your left, to an older man with thin white hair. Your jaw dropped when you looked at him, realizing that he caught you staring.

“Umm… that old man?” You tried your hardest to whisper over the thudding music, trying not to let the creep that is sitting just 2 meters away from you hear what you said. The bartender nodded and walked away to the other side of the bar, making you sigh in annoyance that he didn't bother to even help you out. You slowly pushed the light pink drink away from you, it smelled strong which showed his true intentions, getting you drunk.

You pulled out your phone and texted Liz a quick message, “Liz a man is being weird where are you ☹️☹️?” You scrolled through your gallery to pretend you are doing something and distract yourself from the man on your left, until you are tapped on the shoulder. You froze, quickly turning off your phone as you took a deep breath, pretending that you didn't feel it.

“May I know why you didn't accept the drink, it was really expensive.” you flinched when you felt his breath hit your neck, no way this is happening today. Where the fuck is Liz? You turned around slowly, trying to act calm and collected, “sorry, I didn't want to drink today, I'm just here for someone.”

“I don't see anyone here,” he mockingly glanced around the bar to see the ‘person’ you were waiting for. “I saw you drink just a few minutes ago.”

You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath. You glanced at his striking blue eyes and felt your hands starting to shake, you looked away back to the drink he ordered for you and grasped it, taking a small sip just to taste what it is. You knew you were fucked, Liz isn't here and she's probably not going to come, the bartender couldn't give a shit, and this man won't leave you alone. Why was he at a bar on a Wednesday night? Doesn't he have some office job to do tomorrow or is he too old that he's retired now.

The drink tasted sour and tangy, but had a strawberry flavor. The burning of your throat made you cough and your eyes shutting close, it was definitely alcoholic, very alcoholic. You rested the drink on the table and faked-smiled and awkwardly nodded, but your smile disappeared when his hand clutched your arm and pulled you forward, “why don't you dance with me, huh? Wearing this dress for nothing must be a shame.” 

You panicked and took a quick scan of your surroundings to see who could help. On the bar table to your left, there were other older men, possibly friends of the weirdo that's now bruising your arm. On the large leather sofas that were placed on the other corner, there was a couple?...a throple? A man was sitting comfortably on it as he crossed his legs on the mini table in front of him, two girls were sprawled over him, one playing with his hair and the other playing with his shirt while she chugs from a beer can…yeah they will be too busy to help.

You took a quick turn to the VIP entrance, seeing a short girl with a Gucci bag waiting to be let in… rich spoiled people are too busy to look around. You swore you never cared about religion until then, when the man tugged you to his chest, your eyes slowly closing as you were holding your tears praying to God to let you out of this misery.

You felt his hands being placed on your hips, as he forcefully tugged your back towards his groin. He pushed you to the crowded area so people can't see your discomfort in your face. 

But before he does more than this, a large hand tugged you away from the man, making the man behind you exhale loudly. “Anna! I'm sorry for making you wait, hey let's go…umm do you know him?” you've never heard such a soft yet deep voice like this. Before you even had the chance to look at who grabbed you, her right arm tugged you into her chest, trying to hide you from the stranger. “No, I don't.” You whispered, afraid of making the situation even bigger.

“Seriously? you were waiting for this…” His angry voice and arm pointing at the both of you made you anxiously stare at him. He looked at the woman hugging you up and down with disgust before muttering a ‘nevermind’ and stomping off.

You shakingly held tightly into her, staring at the spot the man was at. “Are you okay?” She let out a soft whisper from above your head. You were shaken at the whole encounter, blocking off what she said until you felt soft taps on your shoulder, making you look up at her.

This was the first opportunity you had to actually see who saved you from this, and she was gorgeous. She had sunglasses placed on the collar of her dress shirt with two of the buttons opened. Why was she even wearing a dress shirt at a club? When you looked up to her face (because she's 5 '9 and the first thing you saw was her tan skin), her hair was short, swooped to the side. Her cheekbones were sharp and her eyes were furrowed worriedly. You quickly separated from her and took two steps away.

“Hey, it's okay.” She took a step forward, opening her hands around her face to show you she doesn't want to hurt you, “are you waiting for someone?”

You looked away from her eyes, the smell of alcohol and sweat is making it difficult for you to think straight -literally. You looked at your phone, finding a new notification, “oh thank God she responded!” You relaxed, until you pressed on it.

“Hey baby!! It's your favorite uncle 😉, just saw your post about graduating. Congratulations! I miss you so much. Maybe one day we can all reunite when you graduate your masters 💪keep working hard!”

You inhaled deeply, turning off your phone and throwing it in your mini purse. You looked at the woman, she looked at you with raised brows waiting for an explanation for your reaction. You rested your hand on your forehead and frustratedly groaned out, “no she fucking ignored my messages.”

Her face turned sour as she looked behind you, probably to the place where the old men were sitting, giving you the chance to look at her face once again. You blushed at her clenched sharp jaw, slight pink cheeks, and the soft lips. When you looked back at her eyes, she was already looking at you.

You internally wanted to kill yourself for looking at her lips, because she definitely caught that. You looked away to her arms, doing everything in your power to not look at her face again. But then you realized glancing at her arms will make the situation even worse. Her arms were athletic and the sleeves were tight around her biceps. How is she this hot?

“You can stay with me, my friends are here.” She softly grasped your hand, pulling you away from the crowded dance floor. “It's fine, I'll just go home.”

“No, come on! It's a secluded area, no one will bother us.” She encouraged you, her hand still in yours. You looked down at your heels, you felt like shit. This whole time at the bar was for you and Liz to celebrate your day and you end up being a charity case for a hot woman. You don't even know why you chose the club, you hated partying anyways. You bit into your lip, one single line going through your head:

I deserve to celebrate my achievements no matter with who. I'm the one who worked hard for this, I need this.

“Okay just… Please don't do this because you feel bad for what happened.” her eyes softened, intertwining your fingers with hers and whispering a soft ‘never’. You felt embarrassed as she was dragging you around the bar to the place her friends are staying at, you didn't want to see anyone’s face so you just looked down at your intertwined hands and hoped you won't collide with anyone. Your hand looked small compared to her large ones as she held into you, feeling her rough skin tightly around yours.

When you realized she stopped, you looked up to where she took you. “Oh no… I'm not going there,” You frowned at her, “VIP? I heard it's expensive here.” You felt guilty that she might spend money on a spot for you, but you were curious on how she makes enough money to be here.

“Don't worry, my work has paid for the night here, I didn’t spend a euro on me or anyone.” She smiled at you, finding it cute how you were worried about her money. She let go of your hand and opened the door slowly, signaling her hand to follow her.

You stood still for a few seconds, feeling exhausted and tired. And unfortunately, you felt gross. You looked down at your dress, remembering what the old man said. It was your favorite, it may not look fancy but you've loved it and waited for a moment to wear it, now you can't even glance at it without feeling down. You glanced at the woman, she had already taken a few steps until she realized you weren't following her, “Do you want to go home? I can order you an Uber?”

This was your chance to actually get to know someone, you've been alone all this time in Paris and Liz was an American student. The woman in front of you seemed like the first French woman that actually tried to befriend you, and she's attractive. Her face softened as she took a few steps towards you again, understanding your silence. “My name is Elisa, what's yours?”

“Y/n.” You didn't know what to do after this so you reached out your hand to handshake her, internally cringing from how awkward you are…no wonder why your love life is as low as your mood today. She giggled and grasped your hand, shaking it aggressively. You looked at her with a confused face and she just winked quickly, “so… y/n why are you here at the club on a Wednesday night?”

“I just graduated so I wanted to celebrate.” You were staring at your held hands, feeling awkward when looking at anyone's eyes, especially élisa's. But when you felt her hand immediately let go of yours and wipe it off with her dress pants, you looked at her face slightly hurt. Her eyes are slightly widened, which made you realize why she let go of your hand, “bachelor degree in physical therapy.”

“Ohh! That's so nice. You know at my job we need a lot of physiotherapists, I like them.” Her body physically relaxed, making you laugh at her panic. The poor woman thought you were some high school student, but you didn't blame her, you never made it clear when you spoke about it.

“Cool… what do you work as?” You asked, a smile appearing in your face. You didn't realize that by a small comment, Elise made your feelings better just as she planned. She let out an open smile when she noticed yours, feeling proud of herself for making you feel better.

“Guess.” 

Your smile wiped off your face, “no please I don't like doing this game just say it.”

She laughed, “I'll give you a hint, I wear number 5.”

It took a moment for you to answer because you froze when you heard her laugh, making a stupid grin plaster into your face, “...football?” You dragged the word as you questioned, worried it might be wrong. She nodded with a proud smile.

“Wow, that's so cool I do watch football!... not the women, I don't know where to watch…sorry.”

She laughed, stepping closer and resting her left arm around your shoulder, encouraging you to walk through the dark maroon hallway with her. “It's okay, we're used to it.”

When you looked up from this angle, your attraction worsened. Her side profile was perfect. It took a moment for you to recover from it, “ehm…some girls in my class wanted to be football physios so they could work with Szoboszlai.” You muttered, obviously not knowing what to say. You didn't know if you should wrap your right hand around her waist or just keep it awkwardly limping between the both of you.

She glanced at you and laughed, “and you? Is that what you wanted?”. You looked away, deciding to focus on the dark walnut wood corridor in front of you instead of her eyes. “I don't really like men.”

“Ha! Me too.” Her left arm tapped your shoulder to the beat of the music. Elisa was glad that you weren't into men; she felt like it's finally her time where she can get attention from a woman that isn't a fangirl. She pulled you inside a room, filled with people singing and jumping around.

You felt sick all over again, not knowing Elisa had this many friends. You remembered her speaking about her work paying for this, are all of these people her teammates? The room was built almost like a sunken living room, the leather couches were placed into the ground around the walls with stairs in the side, and two small tables placed in two opposite corners that were filled with drinks and purses. Elisa felt your body turn rigid, she leaned in close to your ear and whispered gently, “They're all nice, I promise.” You turned to look at her, you didn't understand why but you felt at ease around her, maybe because of what she did earlier, but you took a deep breath and calmed down.

She pointed at an empty seat next to a blonde woman, “hey Jackie, this is y/n, she's a physiotherapy graduate.” Jackie turned to look at you and elisa, she smiled brightly and raised her hand to signal you to sit with her. You let out a tight-lipped smile and approached the table to sit. You noticed Jackie looking at your attire and glancing at Elisa with a confused look, but before she said a thing, Elisa interrupted her by saying she needed to go to the bathroom.

Well shit, now you have to do this alone. You stared at Elisa as she was walking out, secretly checking her out and also praying that she’ll come back soon. “Umm… do you work here?”

You turned to look at Jackie, “oh, no. I'm just here to party.”

“Ohh…I thought you were one of the dancers offered here.” She looked at her whiskey and took a sip, clearly not seeing the shock in your face.

You froze as you gave her a confused glance, “oh. You thought I was a stripper?” You glanced down at your dress… It's a short dress, yes, but a dancer? You had no disrespect for them, just felt a little confused. Does Elisa call dancers for a lap dance? Is this where she went to?

“Oh not your dress! It's just that Elisa never spoke about bringing someone here so I assumed. Also, you're really pretty.” She gave you a wink with her compliment.

You gave her a soft smile with a shy ‘thanks’. “Elisa isn't really into those things, that’s why I was kind of confused.” She nudged your arm when you glanced at the exit again, realizing that you were waiting for Elisa. After hearing what Jackie said, you relaxed into your seat and looked at your surroundings.

Everyone seemed drunk except one, her thick black hair was tied in a high ponytail, too engrossed with her phone to really notice anyone. The other players were dancing, some were singing loudly to some song by Aya, an icon in french music from what you noticed in the past four years living here. “May I ask how you know elisa?” Jackie asked.

“Oh we just met here so…” you shrugged, you didn't feel like telling anyone what actually happened. Jackie nodded, taking her purse into her lap and pulling things out, trying to find something in it. After a while of scrolling on tiktok and looking at the girls partying, Elisa came back in, immediately settling down next to you. You looked at her with a smile, glad that she's back, but your smile was wiped off when you saw her frustrated and sweaty state. When she noticed the worry in your eyes she leaned in closer to you, “Do you like this club?”

You were caught off guard from this question and nodded slowly, “good because I want you to come back here,” You were confused, obviously you'll never come here. It doesn't matter how nice and fancy this place is, after that weirdo, you'll never step foot here. “I kicked him out, he's banned from coming here again.”

“Wa- wait what?” You gasped, looking at the door she came back from, expecting to see him standing there. But he wasn't, and even from the small glass window on the door, you can see that his spot is now empty, as well as his friends’.

“I want you to feel safe celebrating your achievements, I know today has probably been shit.” You bit your lip, turning to look at Jackie playing with her now found camera. You couldn't look at Elisa's eyes or else you would cry. You felt her hand softly caress your shoulder, bringing your body closer to hers. “Thank you, I mean… I don't even know what else to say.”

She gave you a gentle smile and turned to look at her teammates singing karaoke now. “No problem, now do you want to sing and dance with them? Or just sit here?”

“I'll just sit here, you can have fun with them.”

She looked back at you, deciding to lean back into the coach and find a comfortable position. “I play for Paris Saint Germain.”

“What! No way…I feel like shit for not watching you play.” You gasped, psg is the biggest team in France. And that's probably because they are loaded with money and can afford the top players, but you wondered how powerful the women's team is.

She laughed, quickly shaking her head, “don't feel that way! I just wanted to tell you. We just got qualified for the quarterfinals of the champions league that's why they're all drunk and shit.” She tilted her head towards a player dancing on the table. You bit your lip trying not to laugh at the poor woman, but when you heard Elisa's cackle, you let out a little laugh.

“Quarterfinals to the champions league… that's great! That's so cool, honestly, you should go and dance with them!” You pushed her towards the women, but she didn't even budge. She winked at you when she saw you try to move her and held your arm down, “Are you actually trying to push me or are you playing around?”

You knew she was joking, she can tell your struggling face when you tried to push her. You glanced at the way she grabbed your forearm, feeling the blush coming around your cheeks. Her muscles tensed beneath her fitted black shirt, elisa has been trying to subtly send you hints without panicking too much. But she knew she needed to do something even more, so she let her hand slowly go from your forearm to your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. A shy smile broke out in both of your faces, looking up to see her already smiling at you. “Okay…maybe I do want to dance a little.”

You bite your lip and give her a soft nod, indicating that you wanted to dance with her. She grinned brightly and stood up from the couch, delicately pulling you with her. You felt content for the first time, you're finally going to dance and party like how you wanted before you came here in the first place. Elisa pulled you into her body, looking at your eyes to see if you're okay with her wrapping her arms around your waist. You felt speechless so you just nodded and dragged your hands from her forearms all the way to her shoulders, blushing at the feeling of her rough muscles.

Because you were busy trying to mask your flustered state, you didn't notice the panic Elisa was in. Her tightly wrapped hands were shaking and it seemed like she couldn't even glance at your face for three seconds without finding something else to look at. The girls had stopped singing karaoke now, the speaker playing some french afrobeats. “I forgot to tell you, I'm shit at dancing. I was planning on getting too drunk to care.” You admitted with a laugh, elisa tightened her hands around your waist, making your chest flush with hers. “Oh wait until you see me dance.” 

“You do realize this song isn’t for slow dancing?” You loved the feeling of her body against yours, but the idea of slow dancing to afrobeats in front of people is confusing you. “Shhh don’t ruin the moment now.” she joked, turning her head around the room, she looked back at you and said, “They’re all too drunk to care.”

You looked around the room, and fortunately she was right. The girls were all dancing, separated into multiple groups and only focusing on them. Even the sober one had stood up and was dancing with the rest. You rested your head on her shoulder, feeling like it doesn’t matter at this point what happens between you. Elisa will probably forget about you, and date an instagram model like every football player does -well… that’s what the male players do at least.

“You tired?” her velvety voice soothed you as she leaned her head on yours. You closed your eyes and hummed in response, not feeling like moving your body. You tried to excuse the exhaustion as the sickness from the old man, but throughout the semester, you have been sleeping 4 hours and only working and studying. And today has been the day you can finally rest.

Elisa moved her hands from your waist to wrap them around your shoulders instead. As much as she was worried about the possible rejection from you, she felt great about you being okay with her physical touches and wanted to enjoy the chance. She can feel your beating heart from the thin dress you’re wearing against her sternum. Elisa’s long fingers were playing with the hem of the dress from your neck, her body slowly rocking as if she’s putting a baby to sleep.

“Thank you,” You whispered, opening your eyes just to see her jaw. “For today. I may not seem happy, but I am really grateful for this, I’m happy.”

“Do you want to go home?”

You stayed silent for a few seconds, before letting out a short breathy laugh, “Is it obvious I don’t like to party?” You didn’t want to offend her, especially after what she did.

“I can call an uber for you, or I can drive you home if you don’t feel safe.” You almost wanted to cry at how thoughtful she is, but you knew you needed some alone time after all of this. Also, the thought of parting ways with Elisa and her completely forgetting about you is eating you alive.

“Thank you, but I’ll feel very guilty if I take you away from the party you should be celebrating.” You let go of the tight embrace you were in, looking at her eyes to let her know how much you meant it. She sighed and nodded with a small hidden frown in her face. Elisa felt like a child attached to a toy, she was worried to let you go and never find you again. Now that she kicked the assaulters out, she hoped you’d come to the club more often.

“Okay, I’ll walk you out.” She held your hand and walked you out of the VIP entrance. The smell of sweat and alcohol hit you in the face, the club is even busier now since it was around 10 at night. Elisa pulled you to her body, putting her arm around your shoulder protectively in case someone does a thing to you. Once you reached the closest exit, she pushed the heavy door and let you go out.

“Ehm… Can I have your phone number?” Elisa suddenly blurted, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye, so she said the lamest thing she thought, “Just to make sure you went home safe…you never know what can happen.”

When Elisa asked that question, your heart started beating faster, your worry about losing her is now out of your head, feeling glad that she wanted to contact you. But after her explanation, you sighed in disappointment, she’s probably not interested in you, she wants to know if you went home safe only.

“Yeah, okay.” You opened your hand, waiting for her to hand you her phone. She pulled out her phone from her front pocket, and passed it to you quickly. Her palms were sweaty from anxiousness, and she hoped her sweat wasn’t all over the phone. She knew she fucked up, she could’ve told you the truth but instead she acted like some sick teenager, and it made her even more annoyed with herself when she saw the excitement in your face disappear like fog. She wanted you to know she’s interested in you. You typed your phone number quickly, before giving it back to her with a tight smile.

“Bye-Bye,” You stepped back, still facing her. “Again, thank you for today.” You gave her a small wave, and then turned and walked your way back home. She was invading your thoughts, her face, her smile, her deep yet delicate voice, her body, and the fact that she’s a professional player that can get anyone she wants.

Once you reached home, you looked at your phone notifications, there were none. 0 from Liz, and 0 from Elisa. You cussed yourself, why would she even bother to text you? She is the hottest woman you’ve ever seen, you probably look like charity work next to her exes. You boiled water for instant noodles, feeling too low to even worry about making dinner. After eating the soggy cheap noodles, you turned on the bathtub faucet and added some oils to calm you down and distract you from Elisa. You contemplated on searching up her name and see what google says about her, but you forced yourself to not even look up a picture of her. She clearly doesn’t care about you, why would you care about her?

After the 30 minute depressing bath, you plopped into the bed, not bothering to put the blanket over you. You suddenly heard a notification ding from your phone. Closing your eyes tightly, you swore that if it's Liz you'll run to her house barefoot to yell at her. When you heard another ding, you opened your eyes slowly and reached out for your bedside table.

[Unknown number]

I'm sorry

I was acting like a kid around u I wanted to ask you out but I got too shy

Can I take you to dinner one day?

You bit into your lip harshly, trying so hard to suppress your blush. You thought about it for a second, you weren't mad because she couldn't ask you out in front of you. You couldn't do it either, and you were also flattered to the thought of her being too shy in front of you. It felt as though she was the confident one there. It didn't matter anyways, what mattered is that you wanted to be hers. And if this date is the first step, you'll take it.

[You]

Okay

Only if I can go and watch you play on the quarterfinals

[Elisa ⚽️]

Really??

YES OF COURSE

Only with my jersey 😉

You turned off your phone and banged your head into the pillow, grabbing your phone again to send her a quick message.

[You]

Of course

I'm going to sleep rn

Good night 💞

[Elisa ⚽️]

Good night 😴

You turned off your phone and closed your eyes, immediately sleeping from the exhaustion of the day.

[Elisa⚽️]

The dress looked perfect on you.

[whataboutsimple]

Don't know if this is how it's supposed to work but,

🍓 - what got you into writing fanfiction

🥑 - if you accidentally killed someone. Who would you call

I would just do everything (not really) but that would be to many questions

You're fiiiine!

Ask more questions, Murky, I'm always happy to receive them, especially from you!<3

Anyway, believe it or not, but I actually started roleplaying a lot earlier than even reading fanfiction. It was some silly rp between me and my friend in style like:

Sans: *sat down and looked at Red*

Red: *shifted uncomfortably* what are you looking at?

Than I found out about fanfiction site in my language and went crazy reading every possible variant I could find abt my favorities. It didn't last long though, since, cene though our authors are very good, I wasn't satisfied with them. And somewhere at this point I also get to know about AO3, Wattpad, Fanfiction.net and ect., so I thought "Why not?" which lead to me constantly reading fiction there, and since we all know Ao3 hold A LOT of it, I head many and many material to enjoy.

Me and my friend still kept our silly roleplay, even though they unexpectedly grew. From simple sentences they turned into small paragraphs of 200-500 words (mostly from me though).

I also got a lot of practice by writing "reactions", as we called them. Basically it's a "What this character would feel/do in that situation?" after what we read them to each other.

But the most important part should be Undertale Fandom. I'm a big fan of X reader fanfiction as long as it's, you know, good. The problem is that there's not a lot of X Male!Reader fanfiction, so I went like "Okay. No one wants to write it. Guess I'm doing it myself." — and that's basically the story of my first ever fanfiction.

And about murder.. it really depends on if we talking about real life people or characters.

If it's a live person, than for god's sakes I would call the police. Accident murder can be justified or at least you won't get as much years in jail as if it was a normal murder. Trying to hide or get rid of the body will get you in a lot of more trouble, than giving up the first seconds.

And if we talking about fictional characters, will they be 100% on my side or do I need to justify what I just did to get their help? For the first option I would probably call anyone who can destroy the body with a click of their fingers, but for the second.. I can't even think of any fictional character that would help me without trying to get something out of it, but needed to have a "talk" of why should they help, so I probably would call the police once again, lmao.

[suna1suna1]

Hello! It is WIP Wednesday again!

Since I finished the Whispangle one-shot (that wasn't actually a one-shot) I'll be restarting the game! So which wips are y'all interested in this week?

The Heart of the Ark (Shadamy | AI au)

Immortality (Shadamy | Hades and Persephone au)

Boom Dark Gaia fic (Sonadow)

Angels and Demons (Sonshadamy | Fantasy/Pirate au)

Untitled one-shot (Platonic/implied Sonadow)

And here are the last three paragraphs of these wips! Pick whichever ones suit your fancy! You can reply, reblog, or send an ask with whichever ones you want me to work on, and I'll set a 25-minute timer to focus on each one, which means I'll get around 300-500 words written!

Snippets under the cut!

The Heart of the Ark

Amy’s eyes widened. “How–?”

He pointed at Rouge. “I am most optimal when I’m running on Chaos energy,” he said. “Now farewell.” 

Something rumbled through the station, the sound almost deafening, and then a familiar screech tore through the air. Amy’s blood ran cold, and she turned to Knuckles. “We have to find the others!” she said, her voice frantic. 

2. Immortality

But the way she looked at Hermes, the warmth and devotion in her gaze… It made his stomach turn, a cold fire burning in his chest. 

Hades cleared his throat, and Hermes looked up at him with a smirk. “‘Sup, Hades?” he said. “I was just checkin’ in on Kore.”

Kore’s eyes shifted to Hades, and yet her smile didn’t change. If anything she brightened even further, and the flames in his chest banked a little. Still, Hades turned his gaze to Hermes, narrowing his eyes. “I see,” he said. “I don’t remember giving you permission to enter my abode while I was out.” 

3. Boom Dark Gaia fic

Sonic was about to try to follow him when someone called his name behind him. He turned to find a tired beaver with a pair of glasses and a clipboard standing in the doorway. “Your friend is stable,” she said, almost as if she could hardly believe it. “He’s still unconscious but he looks like he’ll pull through.”

Sonic sighed, his shoulders finally relaxing. “Phew,” he said. “For a minute there I thought he was a goner.”

“So did we,” the doctor replied with a frown.

4. Angels and Demons

“Could I get your name first?” Shadow asked. 

“Oh,” the echidna said, as if he’d been startled. “I am Knuckles, the last of the mighty Echidnas.”

Shadow nodded. “My name is Shadow. 

5. Untitled one-shot

Shadow huffed a laugh, then grimaced as Sonic smirked triumphantly. “Who said you were the coolest hedgehog ever? I thought you were just the most annoying.”

Shadow bit back a laugh as Sonic’s smirk melted into a mildly annoyed expression. “The universe has ordained that I’m the coolest. Although you’re a close second.”

“Gee, thanks,” Shadow deadpanned. “High praise. Now get out.”

[sabraeal]

If the Mind Is Willing, Chapter 3

[Read on AO3]

Part three of 500 Follower prizes @bubblesthemonsterartist​ earned herself years ago! Only two more and I will have fulfilled all those fics...probably just in time to have a 1K follower raffle

Blue light washes her pink sheets pale, until it’s impossible to tell when cotton ends and her skin begins. The shadows pull longer in its glow, turning her own nearly skeletal as she reaches out a finger, hovering over the link.

“U-J-Kyo?” Chizuru’s mouth wraps around each letter, the sound of them tumbling softly into the muted glow. “But that’s just...?”

The university’s homepage. And her laptop’s, technically, now that Yamazaki helped her set it. Not something she’d normally associate with Souji’s interests, not unless he’s started some new hostilities with the provost’s office again. Their last open letter hung on the fridge until just before Thanksgiving, the second paragraph asking for “certain individuals in the student body“ to “show more conduct becoming of an undergraduate of a prestigious institution” highlighted proudly in lime green.

Dean Kondo dropped by the house only a few days later-- for a friendly visit, he’d said, smile as warm as she remembered. He’d stayed for dinner, complimenting the soup she’d made from their leftovers, and then talked with Souji out on the porch until the swing’s chains started to creak. The letter disappeared the next morning, unremarked, though Souji kept glowering at the bare metal every time he passed through the kitchen.

Chizuru swipes tentatively at the screen, messaging app blooming beneath her finger. The link’s innocuous, known, but Souji has a gift for slipping a sting into any handshake. And if he’s calling it a gift, well--

[ToudouDomination] omg holy shit dude nice knowing u hijikatas gonna kill u 4 sure 💀💀

Professor Hijikata’s taught her enough about Trojans to take that kind of present at face value.

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] *skullfuck u mean skullfuck ull b the most beautiful corpse at ur funeral bro

Her lips press tight, clinging to each other as close as the rubber case to her phone. If everyone’s acting like this about it, it’s better that she doesn’t look.

[ToudouDomination] MY funeral???!! what’s this got to do with me??!!

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] nah man im not talking ab YOU im talking ab dead man walking over here

She’d regret it if she did, probably.

[Dr 💖💋🤭] jfc I’ll say somethign nice at you’re disciplinery hearing

[ToudouDomination] Me??

[Dr 💖💋🤭] No one’s talking about you Heisuke

It’s an accident, really. Her thumb skims up the side of the screen-- scrolling past the sudden influx of skull and fire emojis the boys heave into the chat-- and the pad of it just barely brushes the link. It flashes under the pressure, blue then purple, selected, and well...

There’s no harm in just letting it happen, is there? It’s only the university homepage, nothing--

Ah. That’s what it should be at least. But instead of the azure and white, there’s text curling across the screen, a half dozen different hand-written poems in blue bic and college rule, tiled across every inch of the background. There’s coffee stains on them too, some in the corner, and some in rings, like they were more used to being coasters than literature. And in the center of it all--

“Oh.” She blinks, tilting her screen to get a better view. “A video?”

Hogyoku Open Mic, it reads at one corner, reflection on water. A strange choice for Souji; he’s never mentioned an interest in poetry, let alone live readings. Frowning, Chizuru tilts her phone, letting the video fill the screen.

It plays, and oh, several things become clear, all at once.

“My heart is pure,” the man on screen promises, words raking over the gravel of his voice-- how little of it there is marks his age more than the lack of lines on his face-- but Chizuru’s isn’t, not when she can’t do much more than stare, fingers numb around the rubber case. “I use my palm as an inkstone.”

The camera pans closer, and yes, above that black dress shirt-- open to its third button, oh goodness gracious-- is Hijikata. Not the one she knows now, the grizzled professor who kicks his feet up on the desk and uses profanity as punctuation, but--

But a much younger man, not much older than her, considering the last little bastions of baby fat clinging to his cheekbones.

[Dr 💖💋🤭] This muts be a hundred pakcs of cigs ago

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] 💯

[ToudouDomination] do moths feel desire or is that like a poetic thing he talks about rain a lot too whats that all ab

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] its a sex thing

[Dr 💖💋🤭] Shin don’t tell the baby taht

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] hes a growing boy he has to learn sometime better he hears it from us hijikata fucks 🍑🍆🍑

[Saito.Hajime] Can I please be removed from this group? Also, congratulations, Souji, on finding a new, creative way to die

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] no way if we all have to think think about hijikata fucking u have to suffer too

[Saito.Hajime] I am not certain I care for that logic

[Dr 💖💋🤭] Too bad, bud. Your stukc with us

[✨💯GAINS💪💪✨] yeah bro u signed the housing contract ur here til death comes for u or like u move out or smthn

Chizuru means to stop the video, really she does. It’s not something Hijikata would want them to see-- at least, she assumes so, considering the way he flushes every time Souji brings up his graduate school slam jams, threatening to expel him if he doesn’t ‘shut his damn mouth.’

But the one on the screen smiles as he finishes his set, smouldering out past the stage lights, and she-- she expects snapping, some cool cats with shades and berets nodding their heads to his truth or whatever mood this is supposed to give. A respectful silence, one that gives space to the idea he’s introduced to the space, but instead--

Instead there’s screams. A full audience of women-- and a few particularly enthusiastic men-- loudly voicing their appreciation for what she’s hoping is the poetry.

Ah, maybe Shinpachi is right. It is a sex thing. And she’s watched a full ten minutes of it.

Hijikata can never know. Or worse--

[Susumu Yamazaki] Take this down. Now.

[( ⓛ ω ⓛ *)] eat my ass

Her heart ricochets around her rib cage, panicked, before it lodges itself in her throat. It flutters there, queasily, and-- and there’s no way he could possibly know, but still, guilt seizes her. She shouldn’t have looked, not once she knew. She should have been the first to say it was wrong. Helpers can only help when they know there is a problem, that’s what Father would have said. If you cannot perceive it then you are part of it.

She could say something now. Her hand squeezes tight around the case. No, she should say something now. She has to, because father will ask. She’ll tell him about this frantic midnight showdown, and he’ll say, and what did you say?

And if it is nothing...

[Susumu Yamazaki] Take it down now. Or I will get university IT involved.

[( ⓛ ω ⓛ *)] you don’t have the fucking balls

[Susumu Yamazaki] Try me.

Even with her eyes closed, her failure is inescapable. The words flash behind her eyelids, no longer composed of ones and zeros but scrawled in neon lights instead, reminding her that if she were better she could have fixed this. That if she were good enough, she could have found the magic phrase to get them all to get along. But instead...

Silence, that’s what he’ll give her. A long pause where all his expectations weigh on her, piling on her chest like boulders on a criminal. A cluck of his tongue, and a soft, I thought I raised you better. Any moment now, her phone will ring, and Father will know what a disappointment she is because--

It’s Christmas. Just about everywhere but Hawaii. A couple other islands in the Pacific too, if she’s being fair. It’s Christmas, and he’s supposed to call because that’s the way it’s always been: her staying up late not to catch Santa and his Reindeer but Father emerging from his office. It’s her that would tromp down the hall with all the grace of an elephant, to fling her arms around him and yelp, Merry Christmas!

And it was him who had to be stern, who must put her back down on the carpet and scold her for being out of bed. Who has to wait until she’s nearly shut her door to stop her, to call out, Merry Christmas, Chizuru.

It’s supposed to be her first. The one given moments after midnight, the most real, and-- and--

And she’s spent the whole day waiting for an empty office.

There’s a part of her, one that’s still too short to reach the microwave and can’t bear the kindness next door, that thinks she missed it. That there’s some dead zone in the house that she unwittingly lingered in, or a notification that her phone somehow swallowed whole. That it’s her fault she never presented herself to be loved.

But there’s another part, one that’s growing every day, and that one--

That one’s just tired. 

It’s tired that wins out, in the end.

There’s a weight that drags at her, urging her to stay within the cocoon of her covers, to let the night unfurl across her screen, each blow reported in black and white right before her eyes. A passive observer, an active disappointment, but most importantly: unmoving.

Even still, she gets up, throwing the cloud of her comforter back so that she can slide out from underneath it. Her heels hit the floor with a force that chatters her teeth; or maybe that’s just the chill of the air now that her body heat is no longer trapped up against her skin.

Her phone settles on the nightstand, cozening up to the lamp, and for a long moment, she thinks about turning it on. Every muscle complains as she peels her day clothes off and exchanges them for pajamas, her eyes straining to make out what’s a hole and what’s just dead air, and yet--

Yet it’s easier than facing herself.

The same weight drops her back onto the mattress, an anchor sinking into the endless depths of open water. She isn’t sure when she’ll hit bottom, but staring at the blank screen beside her feels entirely too close to it.

It’s with a trembling finger that she guides the volume from full to vibrate. Even that makes her heart race, makes her wonder if she’s just punishing Father for having priorities besides a fully adult daughter, the same one who had so happily told him she would support his sabbatical wherever it took him. What if he needs to get a hold of her? If there’s an emergency on Borneo or San Cistobal or whatever island his research took him? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just keep it on a little, just in case--

Her fingers flex. She deserves to sleep tonight, what little of it there is left. And if this is on...

Vibrate changes to mute. The phone flips over, screen pressed against the wood.

“Good night, Daddy.” She gives the case one last, small tap. “Merry Christmas.”

“Hey, jailbait.” Something warm nudges her shoulder, not gently. Chizuru has the space of exactly one breath to wonder what, before the same something grips both and shakes. “Get up!”

“Haah?” Her hands flail out, but whatever’s gotten hold of her slithers out of her grip, retreating past her arm’s reach. “What...?”

It’s bright when her eyes peel open, the sun already seeping through the curtain even though it can’t be more than--

“Class!” Her limbs fly out, wild as she tries to turn over, tangled up in the tight embrace of her covers. “I’m late for--”

“Hold up a slice, shortcake.” Souji looms over her, tall enough that his knees barely brush the bed to do it. “No classes today.”

“No...?” It’s not as if she has anything to say, brain moving at a snail’s pace that it is, but her mouth keeps moving anyway, as if just working her jaw might help get the gears moving. Which it does, oddly enough, reminding her it’s not a weekend but a holiday, and not just any holiday but Christmas, and--

And Father never called. Unless it came in the night, after she’d put herself to bed. After she’d not only turned off the ringtone but vibrate too, leaving him no chance to hear her voice, forcing any attempts for him to contact her straight to voicemail, like she didn’t even care--

“Hey.” Souji knees the mattress, jolting her outstretched elbow right into the corner of the nightstand. “Get up already.”

Painful tingles race up her arm, bouncing from elbow to shoulder and back and, oh, why is it called the funny bone when it’s not funny at all? “Souji, why are you--?”

A bleary blink turns the blurred numbers on her clock to something like sense.

“Oh!” She bolts upright on the mattress, sending Souji skittering back a step. No wonder he’s deigned to scratch at her door; Harada might be the oldest, but of the three of them, Chizuru’s the only one that can be trusted with the stove. “It’s late! Are you hungry?”

“No.” This close, it’s easy to see that furrow flash between his brows, the quick reassessment of his opinion. “Well, yeah. But that’s not what I want right now.”

This early, her brain’s as bleary as her vision, but it won’t clear no matter how much she blinks. “Then what...?”

He heaves a sigh; her only warning before long fingers clamp around her wrist, cold as iron. “Just come with me already.”

It’s a feat to get untangled from her blankets; there’s a knit one sandwiched between the top sheet and the comforter, plus another for more weight-- and heat, since she shares her thermostat with Shinpachi and Harada, whose bodies both run at a temperature verging on medically alarming if they think sixty-five degrees is comfortable. It’s harder still with Souji yanking at her the whole time; she’s not certain whether he does it because he’s impatient or because her struggling amuses him. Possibly both, knowing Souji.

Impatience, however, wins out. One foot wins free, planting itself on the bedside braided rug, and he snaps, “Hurry up. We don’t have all day.”

She’d love to, if only the comforter hadn’t swallowed her up to the ankle, cinching tight when she tries to pry it apart. “Ah, I know! Just give me one--”

Unless she’d meant to say second-- which she hadn’t, not at all-- Souji doesn’t give it to her. Instead he tugs, and she stumbles off the mattress, dragging half the blankets with her. “Good,” he huffs, barely glancing back. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Souji has a terrible habit of making things worse the longer he’s made to wait, but she digs in her heels anyway. Or, well, the one that isn’t still trapped in Poly-Fil. “Can I at least put on my robe?”

“Why? It’s not like there’s anyone to see your cute little Christmas--” he squints “--raccoons?”

“Tanuki.” She smooths her hand over the fabric, one of their round faces peeking playfully out from between her fingers. “They’re just so fluffy.”

Souji stares at her, stone-faced and silent, and-- and it’s longer than that his teasing typically takes. “Right,” he says, stilted. “Whatever. Just hurry it up, Sleeping Beauty.”

Chizuru is keenly conscious of every second Souji suffers her, all-too aware of how impossible it is to win a race against the limits of his patience, but she’s determined to make the most of what she’s given. It’s hopeless to aspire to Hajime’s cool efficiency, but she tries, keeping her movements sharp and purposeful, as if putting on her robe required the same sweeping grace as his kata, and yet--

Yet she barely cinches the knot tight before he’s grabbed her again. “C’mon, princess. We’ve got things to do.”

It’s a struggle just to keep her feet beneath her, but she manages a very eloquent. “Huh?”

His mouth quirks, too pleased, as he tugs and she stumbles, bare feet barely braced against the jamb. “People to piss off.”

Ah, well that’s hardly promising.

When all is said and done, he doesn’t drag her far. A cold comfort, considering.

“This is Hajime’s room,” she informs him. His grin assures her he already knows. “And, Ya-- ah, I mean, Su-- uh, um. S-susu...?”

The name’s foreign in her mouth, tongue stumbling and stuttering around it, and it’s-- it’s just odd not to use it, when she’s so used to Souji and Hajime and Heisuke and Shinpachi and even Sano, if it feels safe to say, instead of intimate. As if she’s letting all the rest of them close while keeping him at arm’s length.

Which isn’t true. But still, she can’t bring herself to say Yamazaki’s first name so casually, not when even Heisuke, who barely lasted three hours before asking if she was cool with nicknames, hasn’t managed it. With the syllables rolling around in her mouth, it’s almost...

Illicit. That’s it. “Is there a reason you need me here?”

Souji’s mouth curls, so satisfied she’s surprised she can’t see feathers between his teeth. “Yes, definitely.”

“But they went home for the holidays.” She frowns. “Did you need something in there? I’m pretty sure it’s--”

His leg kicks back, and with one smooth swing, he completely bypasses the need for a doorknob, the open door shivering from the force.

“-- locked,” she finishes faintly. “Oh my.”

One hand catches the door, long fingers splayed across the grain. “After you, jailbait.”

She nearly balks-- it’s not as if it’s his room; he hardly has the right to invite her-- but the door swings open, and she--

She’s never seen this before. Yamazaki’s room. Or Hajime’s, of course. A tour down the hallway would be enough to get a glimpse into any of the other rooms; Heisuke hadn’t even waited a day to drag her into his, pointing out all his favorite posters. Harada and Shinpachi took a few weeks longer, though she’d spent most of that visit with her hands clapped over her eyes. Even Souji tolerated her shuffling a step over the threshold, even if it was only to ask for him to help her reach one of the taller cabinets. But Yamazaki and Hajime...

Their door has always been carefully shut, not even the slightest gap for a peek. An easy habit to explain away; the both of them value privacy over accessibility, choosing to socialize in the common areas of the house rather than in their room, but still--

It’s almost surprising how normal it is. Not that Chizuru expected it to be wallpapered floor to ceiling with centerfolds, like Harada and Shinpachi’s room, or crowded with collectibles like Heisuke’s, but maybe white walls and stark sheets, monochrome and neat as a pin. The sort of room that would seem unoccupied, if it wasn’t for the monitors on the desks. Sterile.

Instead there’s posters. Not crowding the walls, so close that the corners overlap, but there’s personality, if not chaos. Enough to know that the boy who sleeps under the navy comforter likes movies with kimonos and swords or computers from the 80s, and that charcoal comforter likes wuxia and vintage medical diagrams. And books too, if the stack teetering on his bedside table is any indication.

Chizuru shuffles a step further into the room. It would be rude to rummage, but surely-- surely it wouldn’t hurt if she just read the titles. If she just stooped down the tiniest bit and--

And tripped over Souji, shoulder-deep beneath Yamazaki’s mattress. “W-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he grunts, annoyed. “A guy that uptight’s got to be hiding something. And not just the normal stuff. The kind of something that’s gotta be top shelf fucked up.”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Oh come on, you know what I mean. Whips and chains.” He drags his arm out with a huff. “Autoerotic asphyxiation. Snuff tapes.” Souji reaches up, flipping over his pillows. “Yiffing. Who could say what a small-dicked little turd like him is into?”

Half those words are unrecognizable, and so it’s not until he’s on his feet, poking through desk drawers that Chizuru realizes, “You mean you’re looking for...for...” Her mouth works, cheeks painfully hot as she manages, “Girlie magazines?”

His fingers still, pressed into a sheaf of glossy page edges. “I’m trying to find porn, Chizuru. That’s what we call it this century.”

The book shuts with a snap, joining its friends on the shelf, and when he reaches for another, she blurts out, “Don’t people just watch that online now?”

Souji laughs, not kind, but abandons the bookshelf. “And everyone thinks you’re so innocent, huh, princess?”

Her hands clap to her cheeks. Ah, she hadn’t realized it could be painful to blush. “I, um...only, ah--” Souji flings open the closet “--I don’t think you should really be--!”

“Jackpot.” The hangers rattle as he slips something off the rack; with only the sunlight eking in around the blinds to light the room, it’s hard to see just what. “What do you think? Would it look good on me?”

The fabric’s black, limp and shapeless on its hanger, utterly unrecognizable. “I don’t...?”

“Nah, no way I could fit into that shrimp’s costumes.” The light might be dim, but Souji’s teeth practically glow when he says, “But you could, half pint. C’mon, get over here.”

She doesn’t have much of a choice, not when he grabs her wrist and yanks. “I don’t understand,” she murmurs, watching him separate a smaller piece from the whole, more uncomfortable by the second. “Why did you need me when you were only going to..um...?”

Steal seems a little strong for the moment. Scrounge falls a little short.

“Ahhh, see, kid, last night I left a little gift for the whole student body. Right on the main page, where everyone could appreciate it.” He steps entirely too close, the warmth of his body filling the space between them. “And our favorite little ass-kisser didn’t appreciate it.”

The scrap slips over her head, cool and smooth where it settles around her neck. “So he took it down. Or got some of his nerd friends to do it. Either way...” Souji shrugs. “It’s rude to give back a gift, isn’t it?”

His wrist twists, the cloth pulling tight against her skin. Tight enough that only a twitch guides her into a nod. “See? That’s what I thought too. Kid needs to learn a thing or two about manners. So that’s what I’m doing.” Souji grins, the fabric loosening as he lets it slip from his fingers. “Teaching him a lesson.”

“B-but...” Her focus stumbles as he steps closer, threading his hand beneath the few inches of her hair that don’t clear the fabric and pulling them free. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“It’s cute that you don’t know.” His smile could cut when he slips the cloth right up over her nose. “This is a hostage situation, jailbait, and you’re going to read from the script. Now look over here.”

She does, blinking right up into the blinding light of flash photography as his arm squeezes her close. “What...?”

“Perfect.” Souji’s lips slant to a smirk, phone pinched delicately between his fingers. “Now I just need to post this in--”

The lights flick on. Neither of them are near the switch.

But Hajime is.

“Just what,” he says, brows drawn down like a storm, “do you think you’re doing in here?”

There have only been three house meetings since Chizuru showed up on their doorstep, hair shorn and all her earthly possessions split between a backpack and a trash bag: the first, called by the professor, to announce that that there would be a new roommate; the second, to decide how exactly to handle the fact that Chizuru wasn’t a boy’s name, nor was she; and the third, well...

I’m not complaining that you invite girls back, Sano, Shinpachi had said, with all the gravitas of a judge, but you can’t let them wander around. She went through our trash, dude!

But this-- it’s different. Not just because of the Christmas lights, festively twinkling through their cycle, or Shinpachi’s sweater blinking through its own.

It’s that they’re all here, Christmas afternoon-- evening really, with how early the sun sets these days-- holidays cut short. Chizuru might not have anyone to spent Christmas with, but Shinpachi did, and Heisuke, and Yamazaki--

And instead they’re all here. Because of her. Not a single one of them is smiling.

It’s too much.

“I’m so sorry!” The words burst out of her, rushed, but it’s important to get them out before anyone else can speak, before they think she’s only sorry because she got caught. “I really didn’t mean to go in! I just...Souji said...”

“Narc.” It’s muffled in his shoulder, just loud enough for her to hear. And maybe others, the way Yamazaki’s brow twitches across the table.

“Chizu, Chizu. Come on.” Shinpachi holds up his hands, as if a half-hearted sweep like that could clear the slate of her worries.. “No one here thinks this is your fault.”

It’s kind of him to say, but that’s...impossible. Not when she’s so clearly transgressed. “I went into Y-Yamazaki and Hajime’s room without permission. That’s against the--”

“No, Yukimura, that’s not--” Yamazaki’s teeth clack down, hard.  “I don’t mind if it’s you. Ah, I mean--” his ears flush the same angry pink that licks up the column of his neck “--it’s, er, different.”

“You are respectful of other people’s personal belongings,” Hajime clarifies. “There is no issue with you in our private space. Souji, however...”

“Oh, come on.” Souji kicks his feet up on the coffee table, baring every hole in the bottom of them. “It’s not like I broke anything.”

Yamazaki’s eyes hone onto him-- or rather, the parts of him only inches from Harada’s iced mocha, so close a flex of a toe could touch the coaster. “Right, you only stole something. Not like that’s a big deal.”

“Stole? Like I want--” with a sweep of his palm, Yamazaki clears the surface of appendages, so precise it doesn’t even disrupt the condensation on the cup “--hey!”

He doesn’t smile, but when Yamazaki glances up at the couch, his satisfaction shines just as bright as one.

“Souji.”

Hajime is not like Shinpachi, using his outdoor voice in every room no matter how small, or Heisuke, unable to control his volume once a conversation gets interesting. He’s soft spoken, serious; the sort of person other people lean in to hear, rather than ask him to speak up.

But today, he pitches his voice to be heard. “You cannot enter someone’s assigned private room without express permission.” With even graver inflection, he adds “It is against the rules put forth in the Signed Housing Agreement.”

Souji snorts, sinking further into the couch cushions. “No one pays attention to that crap.”

Air hisses between Yamazaki’s teeth. “That’s--”

“If I am not allowed to leave the group chat unless a member of the house boots me for a pre-agreed upon duration,” Hajime says, mouth pulling thin, “then you are also not allowed in my room.”

His glare is hardly aimed at her, but it comes close enough that she flinches. Souji doesn’t, refusing to acknowledge it that same way a cat declined to be caught on a curtain, as if reality was simply an opinion he did or did not hold. “I didn’t even touch your stuff. I don’t know why you’re trying to--”

“You did touch Yamazaki’s stuff, though.” Harada shifts in his chair, the vee of his sweater dipping deep enough to bare cleavage. It might be distracting, if it wasn’t already a relief that he was wearing all his clothes. “Which is against the rules.”

“Yeah, that’s fucked up, right?” Shinpachi cracks open a tall boy, cold enough that the beer fizzes out, threatening to drip right across the festive moose on his chest; HORNY AND WELL HUNG according to the words knit into his sweater. “There’s no locks on the doors, man. We’ve all got to trust each other.”

Chizuru blinks. “But I have a lock.”

He pauses, mid-sip. “Well, I guess that makes sense. You’re a girl, after all. Can’t have a girl be alone with a bunch of guys if there no--”

“My room also has a lock.” Hajime frowns, considering the socks Souji’s just returned to the table. “Hardly a good one, if Souji was able to bypass it with just his foot, but...”

“Me too,” Heisuke chimes in. “I just don’t really use it.”

“Wait, what?” Shinpachi swivels between them, lost. “Are me and Sano the only ones who don’t--?”

“I think the best course of action is to inform Professor Hijikata about the infraction.” Kneeling on the carpet next to Shinpachi’s luggage, Yamazaki’s hardly an authority figure, but when he raises his voice the room fritters to silence. “I’m sure he can take it from there.”

Harada hums, unconvinced. “I don’t know about that. Souji’s already got two strikes against him. If we report another one, I’m pretty sure Hijikata’s going to toss him out.”

They might be more suggestions than eyebrows, but still, it makes an impression when Yamazaki furrows them.  “I don’t see why that’s any of my concern.”

“Aw, c’mon, Yamazaki.” They all might tease her about her pleading eyes, but it’s Heisuke that uses them now, as compelling as any puppy in a pet store window. “You know Souji doesn’t have anywhere else to go. You wouldn’t throw him out in the cold just like that, would you?”

His mouth pinches, bracing the way the rest of him is, squared off and utterly implacable. “Souji is a grown man who can make his own decisions. If those decisions lead to him getting tossed out, that hardly has anything to do with me.”

Souji snorts. “None of the people who complained are even here anymore.”

Yamazaki whips around, eyes so cold they could turn any other man to ice. Souji just smirks. “Yes, because of you.”

“Well, I don’t know...” Heisuke hums, thoughtful. “Ryu left because of that art program. You know, the one that had the scholarship.”

“Only after Okita shoved him off--!”

“Oh, c’mon.” Souji’s shoulder twitch, barely summoning up the energy for a full shrug. “That’s all water under the bridge.”

Yamazaki surges to his feet; only Harada’s hand, keeping him from jumping the table too. “You broke his wrist in three places! The only reason he didn’t press charges was because his foster father is somehow an even bigger asshole than you!”

Souji picks his grins the same way a chef picks his knives from the block: with the intention to cut. “No hard feelings.”

“Hard feelings?” Yamazaki chokes out. “You think this is about hard feelings? When Itou left, he--”

“Itou was a prick.”

Hajime doesn’t so much sigh as hum, raspy and dubious. “That doesn’t mean that what you did was right, Souji.”

His eyes narrow, annoyed. “Don’t pretend you miss him running around the place, acting better than everyone.”

“No, no. He’s got a point.” The easy chair grunts as Shinpachi shifts his weight back, crossing his legs ankle to knee. “They both do. You know I don’t want to kick you out, man, but you’ve got a bad habit of taking stuff way past funny right into, well...”

“An actionable offense?” Harada offers, wry.

A blunt nail taps at his can, uncomfortable. “Yeah, that. It’s not good, bro.”

Something happens with Souji’s mouth. A lot of somethings, actually; subtle ones, hidden in the corners and tucked into the cheeks, the sort that happen between one blink and the next. Missable, save for the fact that Chizuru never looks away.

There’s a jut of his lip first, not a pout but its more serious cousin, the kind that’s like a levee to a deluge: one tremble away from a flood. A scowl next, never quite reaching his eyes; good practice for the smile that follows, curving into a smirk the way steel takes an edge: like it’s meant for it.

“All right, all right.” His hands raise up, too lax for a peace offering. It might stand in for a concession, if she tilted her head and squinted, but only a little. “So you’re all mad at me or whatever.”

“For good reason.” It’s a strong stance for Harada; he’s usually the one who’s quick to compromise, so long as it keeps everyone civil.

“Sure, right.” Souji shrugs, unconcerned. “I get it. But consider--” fabric whips out from behind a pillow, matte and black-- “this.”

Chizuru blinks. “Wasn’t that in...?”

Yamazaki’s closet, she doesn’t say. Not when he shakes it out, turning it from cloth to clothing, a whole jumpsuit with fussy embroidery picked out in an even darker black.

“What’s that?” Shinpachi scoots to the edge of his chair, squinting. He must not have his contacts in. “Some sort of ninja costume?”

She knows better than to turn, to draw attention to the statue suddenly sitting across the table, but Chizuru can’t help it, not when Souji is so quick to say, “It is.” There’s enough relish in his tone that she can taste it. “And it’s Yamazaki’s.”

There’s a pause-- for effect, she’s sure, considering the way Souji grins. Like he’s pulled off some magic trick, making his troubles disappear in one hand and then plucking them out from behind Yamazaki’s ear.

“So?” Harada snorts, unimpressed. “Are you surprised? He’s been a ninja for Halloween like, what? Three years running? Since I’ve been here at least. What next? Gonna pull a sexy firefighter out of Shin’s closet?”

“Hey!” A hand presses right over WELL, leaving HORNY and HUNG peeking out from underneath it. “I’ve branched out! This year I was a sexy soldier.”

“How can you tell?” Heisuke mutters, hunched shoulders making his chest even narrower, more concave. “You’re only wearing like half a costume.”

“We’re not talking about Nagakura.” With all the subtlety of a bomb, Souji drops, “We’re talking about Mr Kiss-Ass and how he has like, five of these tucked away for a rainy day.”

It’s been three months since Chizuru managed to insinuate herself into the house, but not once has it been quiet. Even in the night there’s something: Shinpachi snoring, Harada’s flings trying to find the front door, Heisuke up entirely too late typing up papers or-- more likely-- playing video games. Something. But now--

Now it’s a ringing silence that’s left in Souji’s wake, an awkward air that has every shoulder stiff, every eye finding somewhere else to look besides the place where Yamazaki sits, still as a stone.

Or at least, until Hajime slides forward, dexterous fingers smoothing over the raised stitches of the sleeve. “Oh,” he hums, impressed. “Your skills have really improved since your last attempt. I take it this is for next weekend?”

“Ah...” He swallows, loud enough that even Chizuru can hear. “Y-yeah. The new kunai were too heavy for the belt, so I thought if I remade that, I might as well add a few more quality of life adjustments, and, er...”

“Oh my god,” Heisuke breathes, quivering like a corgi at the end of his leash. “Are you a real ninja?”

A broad hand cuffs him on the back of his head. “C’mon,” Harada mutters. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

If Yamazaki’s ears were painted pink before, they’re crimson now, hot enough to burn from touch alone. The square of his shoulders deflates, rounding with the slow leak of his confidence, but--

But Hajime simply nods, stroking his chin. “Perhaps I should look at my own as well. It hardly feels adequate next to all the work you’ve done.”

“Is this like...a sex thing?” Shinpachi’s eyes dart between the two of them. “It’s a sex thing, right?”

“No,” Yamazaki says, stern, immediately undermined by Hajime’s, “A little.”

It’s with a hefty heaping of betrayal that Yamazaki turns to him, glaring as he grounds out, “Absolutely not.”

Hajime’s mouth gives a dubious twist, and he opens it, perhaps to gainsay him, but--

But there’s no time, not when Heisuke practically explodes. “Are you a ninja too, Hajime?”

He blinks. “No.”

“Oh.” Heisuke deflates. “Okay, I guess...”

“I’m a samurai.”

“What--” Harada’s voice strains beneath the words “--is going on?”

“So let me get this straight.” Harada’s fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose, but by the wrinkle above them, Chizuru doubts it helps. “You two...dress up as samurai...?”

“I’m the samurai,” Hajime explains, so helpful. “Yamazaki is currently playing as a ninja. As he typically does.”

“You don’t have to tell them that,” he mutters. “That’s not really the point--”

“Right, of course, but...” Harada grimaces. “This is what you do on the weekends? For fun?”

A narrow shoulder lifts under Hajime’s tee, the closest he comes to a shrug. “An afternoon a month, to be more specific.”

“Once a month?” Heisuke asks, wide-eyed. “That doesn’t seem like a lot.”

“It takes a large amount of effort and dedication to keep up a long-form Live Action Roleplaying campaign,” he explains gravely. “That the organizers are able to run so often is a testament to their skill. And to run a weekend event--”

“So you mean you go there the whole weekend?” Heisuke blinks. “Like just forty-eight hours of samurai stuff?”

Hajime’s correction comes the same way as all his interactions: swiftly and without any judgment. “Seventy-two hours.”

Shinpachi goggles. “That’s a lot of fucking hours.”

“It is to aid with immersion.” Hajime isn’t a man of many words, but now he does not so much pause as he does breathe. “Unlike other games of its kind, Legend of the Five Rings does not focus so much on combat as it does internal conflict, and the robust worldbuilding--”

“This isn’t what they’re asking.” Yamazaki’s gaze darts wide-eyed around the table, never daring to stay longer than a blink. “You don’t have to--”

“--Is based on Sengoku Era Japan,” he continues, heedless. “As gratifying as it is to play on a regular basis, it really isn’t until a few hours into any session that people truly come to embody their roles. The court politics alone--”

“Saito.” Yamazaki may be seated at the opposite end of the living room, but his stare is enough to make even Hajime hesitate. “I think they get the idea.”

Harada looks between them, pained. “So are there...scripts or something?”

“No. Yes.” Hajime frowns. “It’s complicated. Each scene is improvised in character, but the organizers are present to facilitate the flow of the story. It is a collaborative effort.”

“But that’s it?” Heisuke asks. “You’re just like...samurai for a day? Or, er, three of them?”

“Yes.”

“And you do this--” Harada’s eyebrows furrow, pained “--for fun?”

Hajime doesn’t answer so much as cock his head, hands outspread as if to say, what else?

“That’s so...so cool!” Heisuke leaps to his feet, practically tripping over the table in his excitement. “Can I go? You guys gotta bring me!”

“What?” Harada blinks at him. “You want to go to this?”

“Uh, yeah?” His hands clench, too excited. “You get to be a samurai, Sano! Who wouldn’t want to?”

“Hey, so.” Shinpachi leans in, face pinched in curiosity. “Is this like...D&D or whatever?”

“In spirit,” Yamazaki creaks out, looking like death warmed over.

He nods. “Right, right. So like...a total sausage fest, or...?”

“The numbers on many tabletop games typically skews toward male,” Hajime explains, “but Live Action Roleplaying draws a higher percentage of female participants. Possibly due to the cosplay aspect.”

Shinpachi grins. “Oh, then count me in too, sensei.”

Harada stares at him. “Who are you?”

“What?” Shinpachi shrugs. “It’s math with babes. What’s not to love?”

“Ah...” Yamazaki waving hands don’t do much to hide his grimace. “I don’t really think this will be as interesting to you as you think...”

“He’s right,” Harada presses. “You may think it’s a good place to pick up women who aren’t afraid of, er, theoretical numbers--”

“They’re not theoretical,” Shinpachi huffs. “They’re real, it’s just the equations used to describe them are--“

“See? Already my eyes have glazed over.”

“I don’t know,” Chizuru hums, pitched just loud enough to be heard. “I think it sounds...fun?”

Yamazaki’s stare fixes on her. “Really?”

Even as a girl, Chizuru had never been one to play dress up, never been one to play pretend-- father didn’t approve, for one. Not when there were more direct benefits to be had from drilling flashcards or reading books. A second, her daydreams were vivid enough she hardly needed to act them out, not when Father was so apt to remind her, princesses don’t have to pass their medical exams.

But Yamazaki is as serious as they come, a TA for the dean of the pre-med department even before graduating. His acceptance to the medical school almost assured, and he finds this worth his time. Enough to have made a costume-- with his own hands!-- and sign up for a whole weekend away from his studies...

“Y-yeah.” She ducks her head, hoping to hide the heat that pricks at her cheeks. “I mean, as long as it wouldn’t be a bother for me to, um...”

“Ah, no! I mean, yes. Never.” Yamazaki shakes himself, pink staining the high arch of his cheekbones. “It’s not a problem.”

“Yeah, Chizu!” An arm clamps around her shoulders, dragging her against Shinpachi’s personal light display. “That’s right! Let’s all go. House field trip!”

Yamazaki’s jaw drops. “I don’t, er, know about that--!”

“Fine.” Harada sighs, getting to his feet. “If Chizuru wants to go. Count me in.”

“That’s the spirit!” Shinpachi claps him on the back, hard enough that even Harada has to cough. “Now, that just leaves...?”

“Uh-uh.” Souji’s arms fold over his chest, forbidding. “No way I’m going to your nerd party.”

“Aw, c’mon.” Shinpachi drops between them on the couch, arm pulling tight. “Think of it as a group bonding experience.”

Souji scowls. “What makes you think I care about bonding with any of you--”

“Well, if you’re going to be that way about it.” He squeezes tight enough to eke a squeak out of him. “Think about it as, ‘if you go we won’t tell Hijikata about you stealing shit.”

Souji glowers. “Fine,” he grumbles, shoving him off. “But I won’t like it!”

Shinpachi’s smile is all knives when he replies, “Wouldn’t expect you to.”

It’s dark when Chizuru stumbles out into the hall; there’d been daylight still when they’d piled into the parlor, but now night clings to the the edges of dusk, only enough light to gild the snow in golden shadow. It might bother her more if it wasn’t such a relief, a respite from having to scrape at the last reserve of her smiles. And so she takes it; one big breath and the muscles around her mouth slump, aching from use.

Any other night, she might worry about one of the boys following out behind her, but she can hear the ruckus shift from the parlor toward the kitchen, wheeled baggage and Shinpachi’s booming voice all tromping toward the back stair. Her day may have happened in fits and starts, but everyone else has been on the move, going from Christmas to short notice travel to fraught house meeting all within the space of hours. There’s no one who’s going to be worried about her.

Which suits her just fine. A few minutes lying face down on her comforter and she’ll be right as rain. Just a breath or two to herself, and--

Someone huffs behind her. Right behind her.

She whips around so fast, she nearly tumbles Yamazaki into the wall with her. Or at least his arm, half outstretched, now just hanging there in the air between them.

“Oh!” There’s no reason for her to shy back, but she does, guiltier with every inch. “Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“No, no. It’s my fault.” His hands aren’t large, not like Harada or Shinpachi, but the fingers are long and tapered, digging runnels through the shaggy bristle of his hair. “I should have-- ah, I mean, I just saw you, and er, wanted to make sure that you were all right. After, ah...all that.”

Her first instinct urges her to laugh, to let her nerves giggle out, there’s no need to worry about me--

But Yamazaki stares at her with the same careful intensity as he had in the kitchen-- you’re worth a good meal-- and Chizuru tries deflection instead. “I’m the one who should be asking you that! I went into your room without any permission and all, and Souji--” Yamazaki grimaces at the name “---I just...you have every right to be mad at me!”

“You?” he echoes, incredulous. “It’s not your fault, Yukimura. Okita’s the one who dragged you in there.”

She shakes her head. “I could have chosen to leave any time. I just was too curious to think to question him.”

“Curious?” There’s no inflection to the word, and with the shadows making a muddle of his expressions, there’s only the tilt of his head to tell here there’s a question. “Why would you be curious?”

“Ah, I’d just...never been inside before?” Her palms clap to her cheeks, and oh, she must glow from how hot her cheeks burn. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not! It’s just, ah...unexpected. I...” His mouth opens, as if he might say more, but with a lick of his lips, it closes instead. Or rather, his chin dips down and it follows, gaze dropping from her eyes to somewhere at her neck. As if...

“Oh, did I spill...?” She can’t actually remember what she’s eaten today, whether it could be something that she could walk around wearing, but Yamazaki’s already shaking his head.

“Ah, no, it’s just...you still have...” His fingers curl hesitantly in the air between them. “If you would let me...?”

Every twitching nerve of her stills as he steps close, fingers skimming past her shoulders. Only days ago she’d knotted his scarf, but it feels different now that he’s the one reaching, so close his hand meet behind her neck. He’s not bundled up now, no three layers of wool and thermal and parka to keep her from realizing that he smells nice, like...like something clean with a hint of eucalyptus, and it’s...

It’s a lot.

His fingers knit into the fabric at her nape, too slippery for him to find the end of it by touch. At least, the first time; he gathers it up, hiking it higher and higher until he can slide under it, the flat of his nails smooth and warm against her neck. Her pulse pounds so hard he must feel it, but Yamazaki doesn’t flinch, instead lifting it with surgical precision. The stretchy fabric threads right off her ponytail with no more than that initial brush of fingers, and she--

She stare. It’s the mask. The one Souji put on her. All this time, and she’s-- she’s just been wearing it, like some sort of...scarf. Right over her tanuki pajamas. In front of everyone.

In front of Yamazaki.

If she could melt into the woodwork, it would be a miracle. But as always, reality refuses to oblige her. “Oh, I hadn’t even...ah...”

“Please, don’t worry about it.” His fingers smooth over the fabric, mouth curving into a rueful smile. “It looked better on you than it does on me.”

“Ah!” Her gasp catches in her throat. “That’s not...um...” She hakes her head, hoping that might clear enough room for a sentence or two to compose itself. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Yamazaki glances up at her, amused, and oh-- she hadn’t meant to say that. Not like that.

“You know, I meant to...” He stops himself. Not abruptly, like she does, but a slow, thoughtful halt. Like a train pulling into a station rather than a car braking for a yellow light. “I mean, I don’t think I ever got around to saying it last night, and today, with everything...well”

He hesitates again, a breath hissing between his teeth. But this time his shoulders square, and even though his gaze is lost in the shadow of his brows, she knows he’s looking at her. “Merry Christmas, Yukimura.”

[saving-word-crawls]

Wizard of Oz Word Crawl

By: streetcarnamedmaddie

Hello fellow WriMos! My favorite movie of all time has always been The Wizard of Oz. I even have the entire movie memorized! I often have it on while writing as background noise, so I decided to come up with this Wizard of Oz word crawl inspired by a previous year’s Harry Potter word crawl. This challenge borders on intense, so feel free to skip any rounds if you need. I hope you enjoy!

Uh oh! Toto got into Ms. Gulch’s garden again! Complete a five minute sprint as you run home to tell Aunt Em.

Somewhere over the rainbow is your next milestone. Write to the next thousand as you contemplate life outside of Kansas.

You have to get away…you have to run away! Sprint for three minutes to escape the wrath of Ms. Gulch.

You stumble upon a wagon advertising Professor Marvel, a fortune teller esteemed by the crowned heads of Europe. Roll a six-sided die and multiply the number by 100 to determine your next total as he reads your fortune in his crystal.

It’s a twister! It’s a twister! Complete a fifty headed hydra as your house is whirled around by the tornado.

We must not be in November anymore… You’ve ended up in a strange and colorful land you’ve never seen before. Write 250 words as you explore your new surroundings.

We welcome you to Munchkinland! You are the national hero (or heroine) of Munchkinland. As they celebrate the death of the witch who has tormented them, write for ten minutes .

I’m afraid you’ve made rather a bad enemy of the Wicked Witch of the West. The sooner you write 500 words , the safer you’ll sleep.

Follow the yellow brick road to the next thousand!

Now which way do we go? Roll a six-sided die and multiply the number by 100 to determine your next total as you decide which way to go.

Some people without brains do an awful lot of talking—and writing. To prove it, write to the next thousand.

Why, it’s a man! A man made out of tin! Write 3% of your word count as you oil him up.

Here, Scarecrow, wanna play ball? Help the scarecrow put the fire out by completing a fifty headed hydra.

Lions and tigers and bears…oh my! Show you aren’t afraid of them and write 500 words.

Poppies will put them to sleep. Complete a word war to wake up your friends. If you win, move onto the next challenge. If you lose, write until you beat the other person’s total.

Your friends woke up and now Emerald City is closer and prettier than ever! Sprint for five minutes as you get out of the woods and step into the sun and into the light.

Take a ride with a horse of a different color through the Emerald City by—you guessed it— completing a fifty headed hydra.

Surrender, Dorothy—it’s time for another word war! If you win, move onto the next challenge. If you lose, add 100 more words before continuing.

Imagine what it would be like if you were King of the Forest and write 500 words.

The Wizard will see you now, though he doesn’t have much time. Write 100 words as you explain your wish.

I’d turn back if I were you… Complete a three digit challenge as you fend off the spooks in the forest.

I’m frightened, Auntie Em, I’m frightened…because you have to write 1000 words for this challenge.

I’ve got a plan how to get into the castle of the Wicked Witch: roll a six-sided die . If it is even, you only need to write 100 words. If it is odd, multiply your roll by 100 and write that many words.

Going so soon? Why, our little party’s just beginning! As you race to get out of the castle, sprint to the nearest thousand.

Ding, dong, the witch is dead (is that the right song?!). Celebrate your accomplishment by writing for five minutes .

The Wizard is a very good man, but a very bad wizard. Fortunately, he has gifts! Write three paragraphs as your friends get their wishes granted.

Oh, no! The Wizard’s balloon has left without you! Now how will you get home? As you ponder this, write 250 words .

It’s time to say goodbye, and I think I’ll miss you most of all. Write for five minutes as you bid your friends farewell.

Tap your heels together three times and complete a three digit challenge as you think to yourself: there’s no place like home…

Wake up. It’s Aunt Em, darling. Write to the nearest thousand because there’s no place like home.

[havroth-traveler]

Body Mod

I felt myself separating for The Whole, becoming <. Almost immediantly a solid stack of papers appeared before me. a moment later a black BIC pen condensed out of the smoke.  “Okay the ancient laws of the forbearers says that you must not complete the Body Mod.” The first page has the words “Essential Body Modification Supplement” in big, bold text.  The rest of the first page, and most of the second were hidden beneath a black bar.  “Hey, what gives with hiding information from me. the introduction is the most important part” I demanded from >.  “Ah, sorry, all of those bits are directed towards me, your “Jump-Chan” as people in the community might say, I left the important parts for you” he was right of course, I rubbed at one of the lines, and could make out a paragraph talking about how to measure time, and why 1 second is smaller then 1 minute.  I turned my attention the to non-hidden parts. Apparently this system defines the benchmark human condition as  ○ Strength: lift 225kg (approximately 500 lbs) ○ Sprint: 40 kph (approximately 25 mph) ○ Run: 20 kph (approximately 12 mph) ○ Endurance: 3 days without sleep Which definitely seems well above average, and my personal best... well I’ve hit the sleep line before, in Russia, and wasn’t a fan of ever trying that again.   Skill levels were also defined as powers of 10 hours of training, which again seemed faster then I expected but made great sense if I was considering this as a game system. The next section was much more interesting as it lists how training supplies or a mention effects skill growth.   ○ On-the-job learning (x5) ○ Focused self study (x2) ○ Poor quality or no training materials (x2 or x4) ○ Skill is beyond your frame of reference either magically or technologically (x2 if you have some idea or as much as x5 if you are flying blind)○ Competent or exceptional teacher (x1 or x0.5) ○ Excellent quality training materials (x0.5) ○ Skill is made easier by your understanding of more advanced concepts (x0.5) ○ Skill Mastery perks (varies) I’m not much of an exploiter, but even I can smell a system ripe for exploitation, even if I don’t know exactly how I’m gonna do it yet.  The next couple of pages made sense, how long it could take to learn a spell, or how perks might effect skill cultivation, and that ultimatly > determines what actions count as what.  Then came to a page with some bolded information. I would be using the “Baseline Mode” and the “Standard Start” which gives me 100 EP an “Essence” Whatever that is and the chance to buy more EP. The next section outlines some FREE perks, my near sightedness was wiped away, and after a few tentative breaths I could even feel my soul, and mind. Pretty Cool, its is pretty worrying that > felt the need to give me the power to check on my mind and soul. I hope that isn’t an ominous warning.  The very next page was labeled “The interface” as I read the words they peeled up off the page and started floating. “Hello, Welcome to The Interface, your portable jump tracker.” scrolled in front of my eyes, like a subtitle.  “You have been given a Character Sheet. Look here to open your Character Sheet” as a little icon that looked like a page appeared at the edges of my vision. I tried to focus on watching the icon, which inconveniently moved with my eyes, and a page appeared which briefly outlining all the choices I made for the Pokemon Jump, Like Survival Training, and the ability to blend into a crowd. This would definitely be more useful as I spend more time in jumps. Id hate to forget that I had a power just because its been 30 years since I used it.  The body mod packet was still in my hands. The front page, now blank, disolved, and I was supposed to select an “essence” that would give me perk discounts. so... an essence was kinda like a class. ● Essence of the Warlord (War):  ● Essence of the Scholar (Sch):  ● Essence of the Mad Doctor (Mdr):  Wife Suggested ● Essence of the Crafter (Cra):  ● Essence of the Assassin (Ass):  ● Essence of the Archmage (Arc): Sister Suggested ● Essence of the Brute (Bru):  ● Essence of the Superior (Sup):  Sister Suggested ● Essence of the Lich (Lch):  Wife Suggested ● Essence of the Vampire (Vam):  ● Essence of the Shapeshifter (Sha):  ● Essence of the King (Kng):  ● Essence of the Beast (Bea): ● Essence of the Dragon (Dra):  Wife Suggested ● Essence of the Explorer (Exp):  > Suggested ● Essence of the Healer (Hea):  ● Essence of the Elemental (Ele): ● Essence of the Druid (Dru):  Oh, > seems to have reached out to people. I hope that he gave then enough context to know what the suggestions meant. Explorer does seem like a safe reliable option, very consistent.  I don’t think I can think of myself as a mad doctor, or a dragon, though. . .  I can be like a dragon. I do like hoarding resources, and sleeping in my dark room, and just being quite.    My sisters suggestion of Archmage, is a lot like my wife’s suggestion of Lich. I don’t think of myself as a mage, let alone a dedicated researcher. But the people who know me best recommended it for me . . .  I circled the first big choice, Archmage. 

------------------ Body Mod

[crepus]

"that last bit was my opinion" na fam ur whole essay was an opinion where you ignore all the character development bits because you hate bakugou's guts

1st of all we don't "see" bakugou consistently abuse Deku, we have two scenes, one were they were toddlers and another one the scene where bakugou tells midoriya to jump off, all the rest of the flashbacks we have of them as kids show them to be normal around each other, with midoriya following bakugou around.

I would agree that bakugou isn't very heroic in the first episodes, good thing the manga had like 500 chapters where this dumbass 14 year old got character development

Izuku never con ciders suicide what are you talking about, the most he says is 'kacchan u are so stupid if I did what u told me U would be in jail' that's not concideration that's calling bakugou a dumbass

Izuku was reprimanded bc he is a 14 year old quirkless boy running towards a villian, take his main character plot armor away and it would be a very sensible thing to say. Bakugou is also NOT praised for being brave, the heroes praise his quirk, because this scene is also a showcase of hero society at the time where spectators are not supposed to intervene when someone is struggling (because bakugou was about to die there) and they please more value on the power of someone's quirk rather than on the individual.

"in UA we see no changes in his behavior" proceeds to say a way in which his behavior did change, yes he tones down his bravado (well, first he turns it up so he can still feel like to biggest fish in the bowl but he realizes sort of quickly that won't work so he turns it down)

when is he using his quirk illegally on UA tho? and don't tell me in the slapstick sections because, need I remind you this is a SHONEN series you need to met the story where it's at to analyze it, and slapstick is normal on shonens

same argument for the heroes versus villians, it's a Shonen, there's going to be fights, bakugou wasn't trying to kill Izuku, try to hurt him? sure, but that scene is meant to show us how inmature bakugou is, because he loses, which to you might not be a big deal but it was for bakugou, he cried and everything, this is actually the first of many scenes bakugou has where his worldview is being reconstructed. he is told to be more mature because that's the purpose of the scene, "Izuku survives just barely" doesn't he jump out of there?? and Izuku is told to not break his bones because in case you forgot that's the purpose of the class exercise, it would be useless if Izuku broke all his bones fighting a villain

wow it's so interesting that you spend half ur paragraphs on and on about stuff from the first season, I wonder if it's because bakugou changes as a character later on, hmm mm.

again, are you talking about the slapstick or what? in what other context outside of school is bakugou using his quirk now??

nothing to comment on the training camp because yes he was being a very entertaining ass there.

He didn't force Izuku to fight, Izuku literally says 'okay let's throw hands' and again SHONEN SERIES it's a staple to have fight to resolve emotional conflict, which is what this fight is about, resolving the miscommunication between Izuku and bakugou

so Izuku gets less time than bakugou and it's still a problem? maybe 3 days is standard for missing curfew, you don't know, also I'm pretty sure they destroyed some property there

next is you thinking a parallel wasn't sincere, which is ur opinion, then a massive paragraph with ur opinion on why the apology wasn't sincere, that treats class A like a bunch of idiots that can't pick up on past bullying if it sint spelled out for them, ignoring that in the Japanese bakugou does literally use the most heavy word for bullying (one Izuku never used) and then ur opinion on his death.

which by the way, he came back because it was a symbolic death where the last of his old self died and only his new self came back, that's why he came back, and Bacause Izuku would have gone berserk mode if bakugou was truly dead

But also you proved the point I made in February that y'all anti bakugous just use the same bits over and over and over Bacause bakugou has behave like a dumbass for a long time in the manga

okay anti bakugou's I love y'all you always make me laugh but can ya get some better arguments??

the latest is like 'wow is so shitty that bakugou took credit for killing afo' and the response is literally no he didn't, were y'all blinking really hard when he said 'I couldn't do it alone'

I'm sorry one of the main characters killed one of the main antagonists but honestly what were you expecting?

it's honestly getting kinda tiresome rebutting yalls arguments in my head

[arvandus]

#3 sero fluff for the drabbles, please. congratulations on 500! 💛 - sailorsero

Thank you for the request! I’ve never written Sero before, so I hope I did him justice!  This scene was super fun to write! This one clocks in at 771 words.  WHAT’S THAT??? I WROTE SOMETHING BELOW 1K?!?! *shocked*. Maybe there’s hope for me yet... _______________________________________________________

Prompt #3: “You’re an idiot.” “But you love me.” 

“Baaaaaabbeee~” The sound of Sero’s voice carried through the apartment to where you sat at the dining room table.

“I’m almost done!” you replied.  “I told you I have to finish my homework first!”

You heard a sigh from the living room couch where your boyfriend sat.  Tonight was supposed to be movie night for the two of you, but college coursework didn’t care one iota about your personal life.

Sero left you in peace for a moment, and you could hear him munching on the popcorn.  

“You better not eat all of that…” you warned.  “That was our last pack.”

The crunching stopped and you heard the hard clink of the bowl being set down on the coffee table. You gave a soft chuckle.

Only a few more questions to answer… Minutes passed as your fingers rushed across the keys of your keyboard, eager to leave this cursed assignment in the past.

*Clickity clack.*

Suddenly, out of your peripheral, a white strip of tape attached itself to the table where you sat. A small sad face was doodled on the end of it, lonely and accusatory.  You rolled your eyes.

“Sero…” you scolded and removed the tape.

The tape retracted, disappearing from view.  You heard the distinct sound of a tear and crumpling.

*Clickity clack clack.* 

A swish sound brought another strip of tape, once again attaching to the table.

I miss you. ):

You failed to suppress a grin and removed it.  You tried to sound serious.  “Not helping, Sero…”

The tape retracted again. You waited a moment, suspicious that he’d try again.  But nothing happened.  When you glanced back at him, he was looking down at his lap on the couch, likely on his phone.  You sighed and returned to finish typing the last paragraph.

Not long after you finished the last sentence, another strip of tape appeared, this time attaching itself to your computer screen.

I have a precious love

Who means everything to me

But school has taken them away

And now I’m feeling lonely. 

If only I could save them

From the work that drains their soul

Then I could wrap my arms around them

And enjoy the show.

A warm chuckle bubbled from your chest. You tore off the small poem and stuck it to the cover of your laptop for safekeeping.

“I’m almost done.” You replied. “I just have to proofread it.”

The tape retracted again, followed by the sound of a heavy, lamenting sigh followed by a few more crunches of popcorn.

A few minutes later, after rereading your work, you clicked the submit button.

“Done!” you announced happily.

You stood up but before you could even turn to walk over to him, Sero’s tape wrapped around you.

“DON’T YOU DARE-” you started, your body instantly tensing in anticipation.

It was too late.  You felt your heart leave your throat as he expertly yanked you over to him and caught you in his lap before smothering you with kisses.

“Agh!” you groaned, as you struggled against his bindings.  “I hate it when you do that!” 

He only wrapped his arms around you tighter and continued to pepper you in affection.

You gave a sound of disgust. “You smell like popcorn!” you accused.

“It’s so I can butter you up, babe.” He replied, chuckling at his own corny joke.

You tried to stifle your laugh as you struggled against him.  “Let me go!” you demanded.

“Love me!” he begged, as he planted more kisses on your cheeks, your lips.

You turned your head away in mock anger.  “No!”

“Then I’ll just have to keep kissing you until you change your mind…” Sero grinned, as he moved his mouth to your neck.

You gasped as goosebumps spread across your skin. “That’s cheating!”

“It’s not cheating if it works.” He replied.

“Sero…” you growled.

He huffed.  “Okay, okay, fine.”

With you still sitting on his lap, he tore the tape that he’d wrapped around you and pulled it off, before adding it to the already growing pile on the floor.  You stared at the mess, before giving him a deadpan look. 

“You’re an idiot.” You stated.

He smiled and gave a gentler kiss on your pouting lips, warm and tender.  “But you love me.”

You couldn’t help but smile and kiss him back.  “I do.”

[radiowallet]

Cat!! Okay I obviously have like a whole list of my favorite scenes and writing that you've created, BUT I thought I'd pick somthing from a more previous chapter which is PWC 17:

“Sarah, just stop!“ He shouts, cutting your words off at the knee. His lips turned down, frowning at the forms in your lap, clearly offended by their presence.

“I just want to understand,” you whisper mostly to yourself, feeling small for the first time since entering headquarters that morning. You can’t recall him ever yelling. Not at you. Not ever. The moment shocks you both into a harsh, prolonged silence. It seems poised to go on forever but then Marcus sighs, all of the steam leaving him at once, turning towards you, cupping your cheek gently and pulling you into a kiss, letting his lips wrap around your bottom lip for one long lingering moment. When he pulls away, he slips his glasses back on and starts sifting through the documents one by one.

Thats definitely not 500 words but remember I had to read that paragraph over and over again because it's so fantasic to just see Marcus break like that and show such a relatable human characteristic, again all your writing is brilliant and I couldn't possibly choose but this scene has been in my head ever since I read it. ilysm

Miley! My love! I knew someone would come at me with this scene and I'm so glad that you did, because as I was planning out PWC as a whole, this was a turning point for Marcus...

Marcus, for me, is someone who carries everything silently on his shoulders. All of his responsibilities, his grief, his regrets, his pain, all piled one on top of the other, and he is not someone who is going to complain to much. He might grumble a bit, but outright complaining about his lot in life? Not his style.

But that can be so hard on a person, super hero or not.

The paperwork is significant for Marcus because he knew it would be coming and he had been putting it off. You know how you have a deadline for something annoying and you just don't want to deal with it, so you ignore it? Pretend it doesn't exist?

That's what Marcus did with those papers, and now they're sitting in his girlfriend's lap and he's feeling a lot of emotions: He's mad at himself for putting them off, he's mad at Granada for being the one to bring them up, but mostly he's frustrated that it has to be a conversation at all. If he wasn't powered he and Techie could just be two people, in a relationship, no waivers, no NDA's, no insurance forms. All of this is going through his head while Sarah is peppering him with (reasonable) rapid fire questions, and so he snaps.

I wanted to really display this very human moment for him, because no one is perfect, not even a superhero. I also wanted to show that these two as a couple still have their flaws, especially as they start to move away from that honeymoon phase. Couples bicker, they fight, and it's what comes next that makes or breaks the moment.

In this instance, it's Marcus who comes back to Techie. Again, this was intentional for me. He knows, immediately, that he shouldn't have yelled and the guilt and regret he feels is enough to knock the wind from his sails. Techie, for her part, is almost passive in that one single moment. The kiss even is described as being done by Marcus- he cups her check, he pulls her in. Our girl is not the best at confrontation (as demonstrated on Christmas with her dad) and her slightly wilting in this moment was intentionally meant to mirror those moments from chapter 15.

Thank you so much for the ask Miley and thank you for loving my two idiots! <3

Director's cut - Come ask me about your favorite scene

[5uptic]

I want to try writing for my ships but I’m scared to share since I’m not used to writing and scared that it might be too low quality for anybody to get past first line even though I really want to ask for feedbacks. Any spare tips please?

oof, anon... i consider myself a decent to good writer at best </3 but writing is a learning curve and here are some things that have helped me (and others that might help you!):

your first draft doesn't have to be your final draft. if you're not satisfied with what you've written, delete the entire paragraph and start over. sometimes you'll find yourself in situations when it's best to delete the entire thing and start over, too. don't be afraid to start over! in most cases, whatever you rewrite is definitely better than what you did before.

go back to the fics and books that you love. how are they written? how does the narrator explain situations and feelings? how long are the sentences? how complicated is the lingo? analyzing that you like in the works you love is a good way to figure out your goals when it comes to writing.

i guess you're already doing this by sending this ask to me, but... look for resources: google, look it up on reddit, find writing advice tumblr bogs... anything you can get your hands into. i always get better insight of what i can do to improve my writing there :)

dialogue wise: when it comes to characters communicating, first envision the idea that your characters will convey, and then think of how they would actually convey it - using their own lingo. this is easier to do when it comes to real life people, imo. a good exercise of this would be to take time and caption a clip/video of the person in question speaking. putting it into words really helps you to understand how they use pauses, how informal they speak, etc.

feedback wise, you might want to turn to a beta reader if asking a friend to review your work seems too overwhelming. in case you're on your own, i advice you to change the font of whatever you're writing and then sitting down and reading the whole thing: it may help you figure out the flow of the story and if it's working for you or not.

don't worry about finishing works: write two paragraphs of a concept you've barely thought about and call it a day. practice is practice and it may help you to know how to write some scenes or know how to redirect the flow of your story if you feel stuck. personally, giving myself challenges to write short stories (below 1k, sometimes even below 500 words) helped me SO MUCH to learn how to write and understand my strengths and weaknesses.

expanding on that last point: write. write and write as much as you can. to me, practice has been the best thing when it comes to writing. even if it's short, inconsistent creativity bursts... good. everything is good when it comes to writing.

lastly: just post the damn thing. say "fuck it" in your head and let the work be there, in the public. it may ease you into getting less nervous when it comes to posting works in the future, and you can always go back and delete it if you feel like it's no longer representative of your skill. i assure you there's ALWAYS going to be people who will enjoy it! and again, posting fics of your pairings may inspire other people to fill the tag with their own creations as well. it's a win win for me tbh.

[partly-cloudyskies]

1, 12, 16, 18 + one I didnt pick but you secretly want to talk about

This has run long so I’m putting it under a break. Some thought about my current writing projects, an old abandoned project and, uh, word counts below!

1) Welp I got three WIPs:

This is How We Grow: My first real attempt to fully commit to the heightened romance and emotion of an idealized pastoral setting but sometimes there are shadow monsters plus this also acts as an excuse to see more of Soup’s weblena art.

The Longest Shadows: A future fic where Lena becomes a badass shadow witch and Webby learns that the McDuck legacy is a complicated thing rather than the unalloyed good that she unthinkingly embraced as a youth (Yeah how you doin season 3).

The Glass Factory: A Maebea NITW AU where Mae and Bea find and cling to each other out of a shared sense of alienation as they bear witness to an economically depressed city in its final moments before the shockwave of gentrification turns it into something unrecognizable and hostile (YES I’m still working on it!!)

12) A dumb line from an old WIP... there are so many abandoned projects that are like, two chapters and then a separate file full of quotes that I thought were cool and then I never looked back on them again. I’m sure those hold up. Let me check my old writings folder...

OH NO. I have it and I hate it but I’m going to post it anyway:

Detta rises over the Blackfuse mercenary as he struggled with the debris crushing him. Short even for a goblin, she looms over him like a Titan contemplating the fleeting life of mortals. She raises one hand, closed in a fist that sparks and howls with the wind.

“I’m gonna put a hurricane in your skull. See what it does to your brain.”

FOR CONTEXT, this is an old WIP from, like, 2016. It was a World of Warcraft fic that I REALLY wanted to write. It took place during the Panderia campaign and was set entirely in Bilgewater Harbor, an island city of goblins that is almost entirely empty in-game but I always liked its chaotic design. It was about Detta, a goblin Shaman who had given up adventuring and became a freelance problem solver in Bilgewater. She had a Storm Elemental she named Dizzy who she used as a secretary. One day Korkron troopers loyal to Hellscream bursts into her office and tells her they want to hire her to track down a criminal. Tozz, one of the troopers, is assigned to stay with her to make sure she stays on task. Eventually they would find the criminal only to learn he’s a Twilight’s Hammer cultist who had been in Orgrimmar instructing Hellscream’s forces on the secrets of Dark Shamanism and Hellscream was hiding this by killing everyone involved. You can take it from me that it was VERY lore compliant while filling in the spaces that the game devs had left CRIMINALLY underdeveloped and was going to be a dramatic story in the vein of film noir, with intrigue and divided loyalties and shifting motivations all on the eve of war and rebellion and WoW DESERVED to have better story than it did and you know what I’ve decided that is actually a brilliant line and I am PROUD of it and --

You get the picture. Next question!

16) Hm... this is a question that I don’t really have an answer for because all worldbuilding is good worldbuilding if you ask me. I think the thing about worldbuilding is that a good 90% of it doesn’t make it to the page and we kind of struggle with that because if you have all this research material then you might feel compelled to splash it all out on the page so you’d have something to show for all the time you spent. But that’s not what it’s for, it’s so that you have something to refer to when you need it. It’s the big part of the iceberg no one else gets to see. So maps? Spreadsheets? Research? None of it is ridiculous. All of it is good.

I guess the most of it I’ve ever done was for the novel that I wrote. I had a lot of material for that. I drew a map and I even tried to keep it to scale by sketching it out using travel route lines in Google Maps. I guess that is a little ridiculous, but I’ve no regrets.

18) I hate title and I don’t really spend much time on them. I certainly don’t keep track of how many titles I come up with before settling on one. I tend to be direct, I think.

Glass Factory is called Glass Factory because there’s a glass factory in NITW and my story takes place in an art studio. There’s an art studio in Alexandria called the Torpedo Factory, and that and its surroundings is what inspired that story, so Glass Factory. ez.

Longest Shadows is about legacy, the shadows cast by Scrooge and Magica and how Webby and Lena fall under those shadows. Plus it’s Lena so there’s almost a 100% chance any story with her has some kind of shadow reference in the title. So that’s that.

This is How We Grow was probably the most agonizing of my recent WIPs in terms of title. I think it’s a little clunky. But it’s about the two main characters growing and it’s... there’s farming. Plants grow. So... uh, that’s it. I might not be a huge fan of the title but I’ve never considered changing it. Never look back, when it comes to titles. That’s my motto.

Now for a question of my choosing...

14) I can knock out 500 words pretty easily on a good day, like on a real good day I can do a 1000 in half an hour. I’ve had times where I got an idea in the morning, wrote 2000 words about it, edited it by lunch and posted it by evening. But good days are few and far between and mostly I just put in a paragraph or two where I can.

I used to be very obsessive about word count. Like, I still look at it today but now it’s just like “oh, that’s how many words are in this file, okay”, but years ago I practically lived by it. I think part of it was me chasing that NaNoWriMo dragon, which was something I used to be pretty focused on. Now that I’m older I wonder if NaNoWriMo actually helps or does more to hurt aspiring writers. I mean, it’s not like there’s any external consequences to falling short but when you’re young and you’re looking to commit yourself to something, it sucks real hard when you inevitably fall short and it can be discouraging.

These days I’m more in a “what’s important is that you’ve written something” frame of mind. It doesn’t matter if it’s four pages or it’s literally a single word. I’ve had single word days. And it’s okay! It’s okay to write a single word. Progress is progress, when it comes to writing. Now, if I look at the word count, it’s because a chapter I’m in is running longer than I would have liked and maybe I should consider splitting it in two or something because I am the kind of person who likes the idea of a uniform amount of words per paragraph thank you very much. Beyond that, I don’t pay word count much mind and I think I’m a happier writer for it.

So yeah!

[dindjarindiaries]

Which of your fics?

Tagged by @bestintheparsec​, @goldafterglow​, and @thewayofthemandalorian I believe! (I think there was another but I’m forgetting, I’m so sorry!)

Did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it got?

Hmm, this is hard, because I don’t really bank on the reaction of my readers when posting (it means a lot and I get excited to see what people think, but I always expect the least just because I like posting the writing). If I had to pick one, though, I’d say (at the time) Next To You. It took time to get people into it, and I remember thinking that the emotional impact would hit people harder in its aftermath. I think I just spent too much time reflecting on Reader being alone and not Din’s return!

Got a better reaction than you expected?

Oh, easily Purpose. I thought that since it was longer, it wouldn’t get as much of a reaction, but instead I think it blew up the quickest out of anything I’ve ever written before (400 or 500 notes in just a week!). I’m still floored by it! Y’all are a true treasure!

Is your funniest?

Funniest? Hmm, I try to weave humor into everything (or a lot of what) I write, but I guess the premise of The “Heat” of the Moment is pretty funny. Din making the ship worse and the baby stealing the thing they were fighting over? A classic.

Is your darkest/angstiest?

Definitely either You Hear Me When I Cry or Mandoctober, October 11: Sorgan. The former deals with the aftermath of Din’s death and the latter deals with Din coming to terms with the deaths of people he cares about. Both horribly sad with no clear resolution (which isn’t something I’m usually capable of).

Is your absolute favorite?

A favorite? Oh, I couldn’t possibly. I love all my pieces for their differences. But if you were really, really twisting my arm... I’d probably say Irrevocable, at the moment. There’s just something about that concept and the way it was executed that just... I don’t know. Makes me proud of what I accomplished.

Is your least favorite?

Just Fine. It’s just... blegh to me. It’s horribly cliché in the worst way and, I don’t know, I haven’t even re-read it in months. I don’t think it’s bad, it’s just not exciting.

Was the easiest to write?

Everything I Wanted. It just flowed so well as I wrote it and I was so pleasantly satisfied with the outcome. There was something about that process that was just so fluid (though I typically and thankfully don’t struggle a lot in writing, especially for Din!).

Was the hardest to write?

Hmm, probably Behave, simply because 1) I’m very shy in that type of a topic, 2) I kept having to stop at my own embarrassment, 3) It takes a lot to try to write that activity without making it about the physical actions and rather about the feelings. But, it was worth it! I’m glad it helped me to realize how I can shape my words to get this kind of a topic across without being too “smutty”—because, as y’all know, I don’t do smut!

Has your favorite line/exchange/paragraph? (share it)

Ooo... this is a hard question. I’m pretty hard on myself when it comes to the quality of my writing and I’m constantly believing that other writers on here are way more poetic and good with words than I am. But, I guess based on the style in which I wrote When Stars Align, I’m proud of the way this particular excerpt turned out:

Another peaceful silence falls as Din now takes his time to admire you, the backs of his fingers running over your cheek as his gaze flickers all over your face. It is only after he places another gentle and brief kiss to your lips that he speaks again. “It is said that when the stars align just right, a life as beautiful as them is created.” Din has almost never sounded so poetic to you and it makes your heart thump against the flesh of your chest in a tenacious manner. “I believe the stars aligned perfectly the day you entered the galaxy.”

Have you re-read the most?

I’m guilty of re-reading my stories a lot, mostly because 1) Reliable for my ~anxiety~ that I know the outcome sldkfjflj and 2) To reflect on my old writing styles and see how I can better myself. And I’ve admittedly gone back to Security quite a bit. That’s my first baby!

Would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time? 

I would want someone reading my work for the first time to get a true taste of my style, so I would probably recommend something simple like Musings or, if they’re feeling more complex, Purpose.

Are you most proud of?

Oh, that’s a hard question. I’m really proud of everything I’ve been able to crank out, but I think Mine is something I’m really, really proud of, mostly because it’s not only the ~action~ that’s outside of my comfort zone but it also really captures the pure love between the characters and it took a lot of careful crafting. I’m really satisfied with how that turned out!

No-pressure tags (so sorry if you already did this, especially if you tagged me and I’m a hooligan): @dracos-jedi-marvel @hansoulo @din-damn-djarin and anyone else who wants to!

[rainhadaenerys]

@sharisfootly just showed me this link to this very interesting military analysis of the battle of Yunkai and Dany's military plans. I definitely recommend it. It shows Dany's military merits, her train of thought for making the plan she did. I just want to comment on a few things that I found interesting.

One thing people say about Dany is that she was stupid to trust Daario, and that she only trusted him because she was attracted to him. And that if Daario had betrayed her, she would have lost. And this analysis talks about how this is not the case:

The Stormcrows represented a calculated risk: what could have happened if the Stromcrows deceived Dany? The outcome would hardly have changed, but the battle would certainly have been harder. The slave soldiers would have broken anyway, and the Stormcrows would eventually have been surrounded by several thousand Unsullied. If they had been confronted by a single front, they could have tried outflanking it, but now they were faced with several fronts from several directions, restricting their mobility and pressing them on the defensive (from a historical standpoint, formed heavy infantry could resist the charge of heavy cavalry). Their only escape route would have been towards their rear and back to the city.

(Also, remember that the Stormcrows numbered around 500 men, and Dany still vastly outnumbered them)

I like how the analysis shows that Dany's plan made sure that she would still have won even if the Stormcrows betrayed her, but I also want to remember that even in the text, Dany does recognize it as a calculated risk. Yes, she is attracted to Daario:

Ser Jorah Mormont lingered. "Your Grace," he said, too bluntly, "that was a mistake. We know nothing of this man—"

"We know that he is a great fighter."

"A great talker, you mean."

"He brings us the Stormcrows." And he has blue eyes. - Daenerys IV ASOS

But she also notes that If Daario doesn't betray her, her advantage would be huge and explains to Jorah why she believes Daario won't betray her:

"That would not be wise, my queen." Ser Jorah gave Daario a cold, hard stare. "Keep this one here under guard until the battle's fought and won."

She considered a moment, then shook her head. "If he can give us the Stormcrows, surprise is certain."

Dany looked down at the sellsword again. He gave her such a smile that she flushed and turned away. "He won't."

"How can you know that?"

She pointed to the lumps of blackened flesh the dragons were consuming, bite by bloody bite. "I would call that proof of his sincerity. Daario Naharis, have your Stormcrows ready to strike the Yunkish rear when my attack begins. Can you get back safely?" - Daenerys IV ASOS

Yes, Dany gets "flushed", but she also points to the heads of the other captains of the Stormcrows that Daario had killed, and notes that he would have little reason to betray her after having done that.

And even when she thinks about Daario's blue eyes, she also counters Jorah's arguments by saying that she understands the risks that she is taking:

"Five hundred sellswords of uncertain loyalty."

"All loyalties are uncertain in such times as these," Dany reminded him. And I shall be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love.

"Daenerys, I am thrice your age," Ser Jorah said. "I have seen how false men are. Very few are worthy of trust, and Daario Naharis is not one of them. Even his beard wears false colors."

That angered her. "Whilst you have an honest beard, is that what you are telling me? You are the only man I should ever trust?"

He stiffened. "I did not say that."

"You say it every day. Pyat Pree's a liar, Xaro's a schemer, Belwas a braggart, Arstan an assassin . . . do you think I'm still some virgin girl, that I cannot hear the words behind the words?"

"Your Grace—"

She bulled over him. "You have been a better friend to me than any I have known, a better brother than Viserys ever was. You are the first of my Queensguard, the commander of my army, my most valued counselor, my good right hand. I honor and respect and cherish you—but I do not desire you, Jorah Mormont, and I am weary of your trying to push every other man in the world away from me, so I must needs rely on you and you alone. It will not serve, and it will not make me love you any better." - Daenerys IV ASOS

So Dany takes the decision to trust Daario because: 1) he would have little reason to betray her after already having killed the other captains of the Stormcrows; 2) the advantage of having the Stormcrows on her side would make her victory certain ("If he can give us the Stormcrows, surprise is certain."); 3) because she knows that she is taking a calculated risk ("All loyalties are uncertain in such times as these"); 4)  because she considers the possibility of Daario betraying her, but is not worried about it, which can be seen when she thinks "And I shall be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love.". Dany thinking this shows that she did take into consideration that Daario might betray her, but that she was not worried about it, because she already knew that she would be betrayed twice more, and also because she was probably not worried that his betrayal would make her lose. Which brings us to the analysis above that shows us that her plan would have worked even if Daario betrayed her.

Finally, I also want to comment on the last paragraph of the analysis:

What about the strategic importance of liberating Yunkai, except freeing the slaves? To my knowledge, Dany never explicitly provided any other reason than freeing the slaves. Perhaps she was told by Jorah to move in that direction for some reason? But the freedmen could be useful if they decided to join her cause and support her militarily. These 'fresh' freedmen could come in handy later as trained light infantry or skirmishers, complementing her heavy infantry and reinforcing her army. And the craftsmen would prove useful for supporting the needs of her host and perhaps offer her advice. Of course, freeing the city would also present her with the opportunity to get hold of valuable treasure, food, supplies and equipment. Thus, in the end, the liberation of Yunkai would serve her long-term goals of invading Westeros. Another explanation could simply be that she didn't expect any resistance along the way, and that the liberation of the slaves wasn't pre-planned, although it sounds less convincing to me. When she encountered the Yunkish force, she might also have felt that there was no way back.

About the first part I bolded, we know that this isn't true, as we know that Dany didn't sack Yunkai and didn't take it's wealth (though I forgive the analysis here, since it was written before AFFC and ADWD came out, and the analyst is just speculating). As for the second part I bolded, it's incorrect, because we know that the Yunkai'i offered Dany gold to just leave them alone, so she could have avoided confrontation with them if she wanted. Also, I wrote before how Dany could have done many things differently if her interests were selfish, but she didn't, her interest in freeing slaves was indeed selfless.

Anyway, I definitely think everyone should read this analysis. The site also has other analyses about Dany and Essos in case you want to check it out.

[fangirlxwritesx67]

I was tagged by @stusbunker. Thank you and also stuff you, this is tough! But fun, as I got to dig up some stuff from the last year. 

Which of your fics…

…did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it got?

Highway of Regret. 100%. It was what I consider my first (and only to date) Winchester brothers canon gen fic series. I got really good feedback from the people who did read it, but for the most part it didn’t make a ripple.  I wrote my heart out for that one, I really did. At first it stung a little (needy writer mode, I know) but I came to realize that I needed to write that story, and I love it, and neither of those things have anything to do with notes or feedback. 

…got a better reaction than you expected?

Two different Dean one-shots that I wrote more or less on a whim. Each one I was afraid to publish for fear of reaction. It wasn’t the sexy swooning hero Dean, more of a broken and very human Dean. Ultimately the feedback I got was deep and very meaningful to me.  Serenity - 500 words, a Dean in AA ficlet A Great Dad - 1000 words and a pregnancy scare

…is your funniest?

A Very Good Bed 1200 words of Ikea fluff, Sam x Eileen with platonic Dean. 

…is your darkest or angstiest?

Angel: A Lament This was a really tough one because I dont really write dark and angsty. Every long dark night has a dawn, and every bit of angst more than makes up for it with fluff at the end. Even this one is more prose poem than angsty fanfic. 

…is your absolute favorite?

Taken By The Wind: A Sam x Rowena love story I love this one with my whole heart, you can see so much of my own journey as a writer and as a person, and I just love this OTP so much.  My favorite chapters are Green Velvet and Taken By The Wind 

…is your least favorite?

I try very hard to maintain an attitude that every story played a role, to embrace the progress without being ashamed of the past. That said, there are still a few out there that, when I see them getting reblogged, I think “Oh god not that. A One Night Offer is definitely one of those.

…was the easiest to write?

The easiest thing for me to write are the fluffy one shot requests, especially when I get a song or gif along with the request. It’s not that they don’t matter, but I’m writing them to make someone else happy, so it usually doesn’t require as much digging and self reflection. And of course, they always turn out to be surprisingly popular.  Long Distance Lullaby is not one of those. It was both easy and excruciating, as I sobbed it into my voice-to-text one morning on the way to work. It was in the early days of the pandemic as well as my marriage breaking up and I just needed some comfort. I got a bit tangled up in endings and graphics and opinions, but looking back, there was something really painfully pure about writing it. 

…was hardest to write?

May Be Home I had been writing fanfic for an entire 3 months when decided to write this 15 chapter series that included an au rockstar!Dean, an OFC, and more sex and emotions than I was really equipped to write. It was hard, because I was growing. But I treasure it now, because I wouldn’t be half the writer I am if it wasn’t for this story, and all the work that MJ put in with me on this piece. 

…has your favorite lines/exchange/paragraph? (share it!)

I didn’t set out to write fanfiction. At first they were just stories I told myself. And then they got too big for that, and here we are. But some of my very favorite lines come from my series No Lover Like A Hunter, if for no other reason than they lived so long in my heart and mind before I ever wrote them down.  Dean found himself watching Jody as she talked. In the firelight,  she was radiant. Her high cheekbones and straight nose were striking in the shadows. The flames leapt in her dark grey eyes when she laughed and played in her messy hair, streaking the salt and pepper color with golden light. He had never seen her quite like this- so soft and desirable. Eventually, they settled into comfortable stillness. ... Dean’s voice was husky and certain, “Disappointed? Hell no.” He leaned back on the couch and reached for her, “You’re magnificent, Jody, everything I dreamed of and more.” ... Dean and Jody lay on the floor, facing one another. They gathered pillows and blankets around them until they were comfortable. The firelight played over their faces, warm and flickering. There were so many things that could have been said, but none of them needed to be spoken. They knew one another now like never before, inside and out. And from Pt 2 “So,” she murmured between kisses, “Last time- wasn’t a mistake?” Dean pulled back and looked at her, his green eyes locked on hers. “Jody, baby. You would never be a mistake.” ... Jody shivered under his touch. Her hunter’s body was strong and scarred, but her skin was like velvet. Her legs went on for days and her face, lit up with desire, was straight from his dreams.

Do I sometimes wish I had a little more experience under my belt before I tackled this pairing (and eventual threesome)? Yeah, of course. Do I regret it? Not a word. I love this story. 

…have you reread the most?

Celebrations: a Sam x Rowena holiday series I love this one because it’s an au where the two of them are together and happy. He’s still a hunter, she’s still a witch. But they get to enjoy the little things like good food, online shopping, gift-giving, and all the other soft and lovely sparkly things.  Also, I can’t reread these stories without recalling the feedback from Lou and Val, which is a treat in itself.  

…would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time?

If I can convince them to read it, Sam and Rowena, anything Sam and Rowena. (just ask Kathy.) 

For Sam one-shots tho: Like Art, Like Fire or Welcoming Him Home

For Dean one-shots (which are much more popular): Whiskey Glasses or Stay

Also, it’s a bit of an odd one out (again not that popular) but I feel like Looking for A Black Cat actually hits most of my non-smutty high notes. 

…are you most proud of?

I’m proud of all of it. I’m proud of the fact that I’ve written as much as I have, improved as much as I have, that I’m still out here learning and growing. I’m proud of the fact that there is a little bit of my heart even in the easiest requests, and much more so in the personal stories. 

I’m less proud and more grateful for the community that I have discovered through fanfic, for the very real friendships and support that extend beyond the stories. 

If I have to pick a story tho, I will say I enjoy this one for a lot of reasons: Lucia