#also that last paragraph just came to me in a vision while i was typing up the rest of this i hope it's not too far of a reach

[i-am-not-a-who-i-am-a-what]

so about the header that proceeded today's statement:

Viability as agent: Low

Viability as subject: None

Viability as catalyst: Medium

i didn't know what to think of this part of the entry at first, but the longer the statement went on... was the institute in this universe trying to manufacture avatars?

the dice can't do anything without someone to use them, they can't be an "agent" by themselves, but might be capable of manipulation, so in that aspect their viability is "low."

the dice could be a "subject" in the sense that they could use further studying, but the statement itself was a very thorough investigation of their workings, so in that aspect their viability is "none."

the dice seem to influence their holder to roll them, or at least find more victims to roll them, and could therefore be described as a "catalyst" for someone's becoming. but, as seen in the statement, their owner can give the dice to someone else (albeit not without consequences), so in that aspect their viability is only "medium."

so what about the line following all this, what does "Recommend referral to Catalytics for Enrichment applicability assessment" mean? if we go by this interpretation, i'd say it could mean the institute wanted to find a way to make the dice even more potent as an artifact, maybe even remove that pesky ability for their owner to reject them.

imho all of this this brings a whole new level of context to the events of episode seven, of unknown violent agents going after an influx of objects that seemed straight out of artifact storage. was that the nature of the titular "magnus protocol" first mentioned in episode four, the one that involved the starkwall group? containing or destroying potential artifacts before the institute could get their hands on them?

it also makes their "gifted kids program," and sam's link to it as one of the kids being studied, all the more horrifying to think about. was it not just avatars in general they were after, but child avatars specifically? no wonder gertrude got so defensive over the possibility of sam and celia dragging gerry back into the institute's business last episode, we all picked up on her clearly knowing more than she's letting on but now we might know the shape of that information a bit better.

and one final bit of food for thought... this statement had a lot of familiar themes, didn't it? free will or the illusion of it, gambling and not-so-random chance, the statement giver being done in by one final hit from what feels like a bit of an addition... all hallmarks of a certain mother of puppets. doesn't it seem fitting that "chester" would use this kind of statement to warn sam about what harm pursuing the magnus institute could bring to him, considering the one his voice might draw from? and doesn't it seem so painfully ironic that his warning seems to have only driven sam further into that web?

[lovely-ateez]

Vampire Shift~

ꕥPosted: 5/23/21

ꕥGenre: Fluff, Smut, Angst, College!au, Horror!au

ꕥPairing: Fem!Reader x Vampire!Jongho (feat Wooyoung and Minho from skz)

ꕥWord Count: ~5.9k (whoops)

ꕥWarnings: Horror themes, Language, Thigh riding, Unprotected sex, Mentions of blood and blood sucking (please lmk if I missed anything)

ꕥTag List: @cappujinho @bobateastay

ꕥA/N: I hope you all don’t a more spooky concept! Halloween is my favorite holiday and even though its May, it’s always spooky season to me lolol. Also! Feel free to listen to Vampire Shift by All Time Low while reading this (it’s only on YouTube I cry) since this is inspired by the song :)

It was a terrible idea, really, to work the night shift at a gas station alone. Even more so when you’re a young woman whose only defense is the pepper spray on her key chain and 911 on speed dial. Alas, college bills don’t pay themselves and every spare opportunity to get cash was one I had to take.

The digital clock sitting on the counter next to me briefly flashed, indicating another hour had gone by. It was currently four a.m. and it was safe to say I was losing my mind. I’d worked for five hours now, and not a customer had come in. That was the only advantage, really. So long as no one was around my boss let me finish any assignments I had, which came in handy on more than one occasion.

I was only six paragraphs into a five page report and had been staring at my laptop screen for over an hour, feeling beyond brain dead. I was assigned the topic of financial statements and country trade deficits, and wanted to cry every minute I thought about it. I was half convinced to pay someone to write the report for me.

The ringing of a bell indicated a customer opening the door and I closed my laptop to peer around the counter, ready to greet whoever entered. The first man to catch my attention was wearing sunglasses which fazed me, but I tried not to stare. The man that followed had black hair with blond underneath, a combination that I strangely liked. Both men were donned in all back, their faces stoic. They were attractive, I had to admit, but neither were my type.

And then, the last man entered. He looked over to me as he walked through the door, giving me a nod and a slight smile. His slicked back black hair matched his black ripped jeans and highlighted his red leather jacket. He was so handsome he looked like he jumped out of a magazine and I had to suppress a ‘wow’. A string of butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I did my best to ignore them, not even knowing his name.

The three of them wandered through the aisles until I could no longer see them, and I scolded myself for being so thrown off that I forgot say any form of a greeting. I sighed and turned my attention back to my laptop, opening it and blankly staring at the screen. My ears perked when I heard the men’s hushed voices.

“Y’oughta get that girl’s number. I saw the way you looked at her.”

“Yeah, Jongho. She’s pretty cute. If you don’t get her number you know I will.”

“Shut up.” One of the men, Jongho apparently, responded with a laugh, “Let’s just get some snacks, okay? It’s gonna be a long night. Also I’m buying tonight so get whatever.”

A smile crept on my face and I looked down, fiddling with my thumbs.

They think I’m cute. Maybe Jongho’s the one in red?

I heard the bell ring once more and a girl entered who I vaguely remembered from high school. She was popular but for good reason, probably being one of the nicest people I’d ever met. Our circle of friends overlapped slightly so I’d spent a fair amount of time with her. She was smart as a whip and gorgeous all the same, which seemed to stay with her. She looked bright, long red hair falling around her face, freckles still prominent as ever.

We met eyes and she smiled, “Hey y/n!”

I smiled and waved, “Hey Annabelle. How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“Good! I got into my dream college and it’s been great, although I’ve had to take some pretty hard classes.” She giggled, walking towards me. It’s honestly not too far from here. You go to Westgate University, right?”

I nodded and I put my laptop aside. She spoke again, genuinely excited for me, “That’s awesome! Congrats!”

“Thanks,” I smiled, “I’m taking it you got into Orholt?”

“I did! I was really-”

One of the men that entered earlier—the one still wearing sunglasses—shouted the redhead’s name and caught her attention, “Hey Anna do you want a Redbull or a Five Hour Energy?”

“Redbull! I’m not a monster.” She laughed.

The man nodded and walked toward us with several drinks and snacks in his hands.

“Oh! I want to introduce you to my boyfriend!” Annabelle turned to the man still wearing sunglasses and reached for his arm, “This is Minho. I met him at Orholt.”

Minho gave me a slight nod as I introduced myself and he placed the food and drinks on the counter. I began to scan the items, the mindless routine that I was used to by now. The loud sound of laughter made me look up, seeing the two other men approach us and place their snacks down as well. I watched them long enough to notice the way two-tone—my new affectionate name for the man with blond and black hair, I decided—shamelessly checked me out, a cocky smile on his face when I caught him. I just let out a small laugh before resuming my task, watching his confused reaction in my peripheral vision.

“Oh my god I totally forgot to introduce you to my friends.” Annabelle giggled and pointed to two-tone, “This is Wooyoung.”

“Hiya, Wooyoung.” I said with a confident smile, enjoying the way he still had a slightly confused look on his face.

“And this,” Annabelle nodded towards the man in red, “This is Jongho. Both him and Wooyoung go to Orholt, too.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jongho. I’m y/n.”

“Very nice to meet you.” The man smiled before he sent me a wink.

I had never been a particularly shy person, but as he did so my eyes darted down as I felt my face flush. I didn’t notice the gears turning in Annabelle’s head as she put the pieces together.

I placed the final items in the bag, raising my head as Annabelle addressed me,  “You know I’m having a bonfire tomorrow night at my place and you should totally come!”

I stopped to think, first trying to remember if I worked the next day, then wondering if I was willing to go the bonfire when I realized I didn’t have to.

She sensed my hesitancy and her face fell, “Aw do you work tomorrow night? It’s a Saturday!”

“Oh no, I don’t. I...” I stopped to think for a minute. Although I likely didn’t know anyone else who would be there, I was familiar with Annabelle’s house, which brought me a bit of comfort, “Are all of you going?”

Annabelle gave a knowing smile, “Yes. All of us will be here.”

I nodded, accepting the credit card Jongho gave me, quickly after handing them the bags, and returning his card, “I’ll go.”

“Yay! We’ve gotta head out but I’ll send you the details. You’ve still got the same number, right?”

“Yeah I do.”

“Alrighty! I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

Annabelle left with a wave, her boyfriend on her arm and Wooyoung behind her. To my surprise, Jongho didn’t leave with them, the cocky look on his face all but telling me why he stayed.

I looked at him with wide eyes, playing innocent. “Can I help you?”

He placed an arm on the counter, his dark eyes seeming to put me under a spell. The confidence he was radiating was almost palpable and I felt myself being pulled to him. It was intimidating, to be honest.

“You’re really cute and I want your number.”

I let out a surprised laugh, “You really don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“No, not really,” He propped his other arm on the counter, leaning towards me and raising an eyebrow, “So what do you say, doll?”

A smile crept on my face as I mirrored his actions and leaned towards him, “You gonna memorize my number? Or do you have a phone I can put my number into?”

Jongho’s smile got brighter as he reached to grab his phone, handing it to me. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you?”

I shrugged, “I’d like to think so.”

When I handed his phone back, our fingers brushed and I could’ve sworn I felt sparks shoot through me at the simple interaction.

“Well I need to head out before the rest of them get too annoyed,” He nodded towards the exit where Annabelle, Minho, and Wooyoung left, “But it was enchanting to meet you, y/n.” He bowed, drawing a laugh from me.

“Ah yes. You as well, absolutely delightful.”

He gave me a smile, “I’ll text you later.”

"Sounds good. I’ll hold you to your word.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” And with that, he was out the door, leaving my heart a fluttering mess.

-

Me [8:37pm] So is there a dress code for tonight?

Annabelle [8:42pm] Nope! Wear whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m wearing this if it helps at all!

Annabelle [8:43pm] 1 Image Attached*

Me [8:45pm] So leather jackets and crop tops?

Annabelle [8:48pm] Haha sure! We can match!

Me [8:51pm] Lol bet. See you at eleven :)

Annabelle [8:51pm] See you then!

I started the process of slipping on a white cropped top followed by my light washed ripped jeans. I knew I was getting ready far earlier than I could have, but something about new events made me anxious and I had to make sure I looked nice. I giggled at the black leather jacket I was throwing over my shoulders, not having worn it since high school. In the middle of debating whether or not I should add another layer of mascara to my lashes, my phone dinged.

New Number [8:59pm] Y/n this better be you. This is Jongho and I’m texting you for a really important reason and I need you to reply quick

Me [9:00pm] Yeah it’s me. What’s going on are you okay??

New Number [9:02pm] I’m gonna go grab some food before I head to Anna’s. You wanna come with?

Me [9:02pm] Oh my god don’t do that to me, you buffoon. You scared me so bad rip

[New Number name changed to A Cute Buffoon]

Me [9:03pm] But sure I’m down lol. Here’s my address btw

Me [9:03pm] 1 Location Shared*

It occurred to me perhaps a bit too late that I was sharing my address with someone that I’d met only once and in a gas station.

I mean, he’s friends with Annabelle so he’s gotta be good right? God I hope so. I thought to myself.

A Cute Buffoon [9:04] Then it’s a date :) I live pretty close so I’ll be over in 10. That work for you?

Me [9:06pm] Fine with me!

A Cute Buffoon [9:06pm] Sounds good. I’ll see you soon ;)

I set down my phone and thanked myself for already doing my makeup. I checked myself out in the mirror, satisfied with my appearance and proud of how well my makeup turned out. I grabbed my bottle of perfume and spritzed the liquid in the air, letting it gradually fall on me so it wouldn’t be too overpowering.

You look beautiful, babe.

The waiting game was harder than I thought, not knowing what to do except awkwardly sit around and play an assortment of phone games. When exactly ten minutes had passed I heard my doorbell ring and I lifted myself from my couch, grinning at his punctuality.

I opened the door to see Jongho holding a bouquet of flowers, a smug look on his face. “Lovely to meet you here, stranger.”

I wanted to make a joke back but I couldn’t seem to think of anything, too surprised by the flowers in his hands. It wasn’t anything extravagant, the small bouquet of violets, but I felt my heart swell.

It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

My voice was small when I spoke, “No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

His eyebrows furrowed as a confused look painted his face, “Really?”

I nodded, taking the flowers from his outreached hands and smelling their sweet fragrance, “They’re beautiful.”

My eyes flickered to his, the tender look on his face making me feel as if I was melting on the spot, “You’re beautiful.”

I squealed, my face undoubtedly turning pink while my mind short circuited. I’d never become so shy around someone before and the only thing I could think of to say in response was another ‘thank you’ followed by ‘I’ll go get a vase for these.’

I opened my door further, rummaging through my cabinets for a vase when I noticed Jongho was still standing by the door, “You can come in, you know? That’s why I opened the door.”

He laughed nervously, “Sorry about that. Force of habit, I guess.”

I raised my eyebrows in a teasing manner, “What? Are you a vampire? Can you only come in if someone invites you?”

I thought I saw a flicker of shock on his face for a moment, but it was gone before I could register it and I shrugged it off, my eyes finding the perfect vase for the flowers.

“It’s just how I was raised.”

“I get that.” I placed the flowers in the vase, giving them a bit of water before walking up to Jongho and gently patting his cheek, “Your good manners are appreciated.”

He laughed in surprise, full gummy smile on display as he playfully swatted my hand away from his face, “Alright, alright. Let’s head out already.”

I made a sound of agreement before noticing a slight pink on his ears. I was temped to tease him, but ultimately decided to save it for later. If I could fluster him once I knew I could do it again.

-

The diner we went to was one I’d never heard of before, let alone been to, and I was beyond frustrated that I didn’t even know about it’s existence. It was an adorable fifties style diner and even the attire the waiters were wearing fit the theme.

“This is the cutest place to ever exist, I’m convinced.” I said as we sat down on the same side of a bright red booth.

“I really hoped you would like it. This is my favorite restaurant ever and they have fantastic milkshakes. If you’d like to share one for desert, I’m all for it.” A wink.

I bit my lip and hid my face in the menu that was placed in front of us, thankful for any method of escape.

“You’re so cute.”

“Ahh no don’t say things like that.” I giggled from behind the menu.

His hand grabbed the top of the menu, pulling it down so he could see me, “Why’s that?”

“Because you make me nervous. Like a good nervous!” I tried to explain, which only resulted in becoming even more embarrassed, “I-I mean I’m excited to be around you but I’m also nervous. I hope that doesn’t sound weird.” I cringed at myself. Never in my life did I think I’d be blushing and stuttering over some man, but my god did he prove me wrong.

“Not at all,” he reached over to take my hand in his, “because I feel it, too.”

Before I could properly react our waitress came over, taking our order and effectively saving me from becoming a human tomato.

We handed our menus back to her after ordering and she looked at us with a soft smile, “You two make a cute couple.”

While I was a bit too stunned to say anything, Jongho didn’t seem to have the same problem and went along with it, “Thank you, ma’am. That’s kind of you to say.”

When she left, Jongho leaned closer to me, “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by saying that we we’re a couple. I thought that-”

“No, I didn’t mind it!” I bit my tongue after likely saying that way too fast with far too much enthusiasm, but I meant it, “I didn’t mind it,” I said again, softer this time.

The tips of his ears once again turned a faint shade of pink, “Good to know.”

The food was as wonderful as it possibly could’ve been, their fries alone being one of the best things I’d ever consumed. Just as Jongho suggested, we shared a milkshake, which led to shy eye contact and laughter and my crush becoming stronger by the minute.

Just as Jongho paid and we were about to leave, a certain song began to play and he looked at me with an air of mischief, holding out his hand to me, “Dance with me.”

I took his hand, trying to hide my smile but failing. He led me away from the table and next to the jukebox. The area surrounding it was more open, probably with the intention for people to dance near it. He grabbed my waist, holding the hand of mine that wasn’t placed on his chest and looking at me in a way that could make any woman fall in love on the spot. We swayed to the music and I couldn’t help but feel full. Like I’d found all that I’d ever need.

Put your head on my shoulder~

“Do you know this song?” He asked with a smile.

I scoffed, “Of course I do! It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s one of mine, too.”

Hold me in your arms, baby~

I mouthed along to the words as I felt the need to prove it to him. As if to one up me, Jongho began to sing along, his gorgeous voice amazing me.

Squeeze me oh so tight, show me~

That you love me, too~

I blushed as he looked at me while singing along, becoming a bit flustered himself when the lyrics clicked with him.

Put your lips next to mine dear~

Won’t you kiss me once, baby~

As if we were in sync our eyes darted to the other’s lips at the same time. I could feel Jongho’s breathing becoming heavier before he said in a hushed tone, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” Was all I could respond before I pressed my lips to his, fireworks igniting inside me when he kissed me back. His lips were so soft and warm and as crazy as it sounded, he felt like home. I felt him smile against my lips as the music continued to play.

Maybe you and I will fall in love~

-

The fire was loud, crackling and lighting up the faces of all those crowded those around it. It was essentially the only source of light in the dark of the night, except for the distant lights still on in Annabelle’s house. My hands were interlocked with Jongho’s as we sat around it’s warmth, both of us finding it hard to separate from one another.

Conversation was flowing all around us, and I was relieved to find that everyone I had talked to was kind and welcoming. I was more nervous than I realized, but having Jongho next to my side alone calmed me. Someone around the fire mentioned an old story involving Annabelle and I began to wonder where she was, having not seen her since Jongho and I first arrived. I mentioned I was going to look for her and he nodded, at first wanting to join me but then getting pulled into conversation with one of his former classmates. I told him I’d head off on my own and he nodded again.

I looked around what seemed to be the entire property and still there was no sight of her. At that moment I heard yelling coming from her house, startling me. I felt my blood run cold when I recognized one of the voices as Annabelle’s. The yelling didn’t sound like it was out of fear, but instead more aggressive, out of pure anger. Without thinking I ran inside, hoping to calm the situation but instead found what seemed to be out of a work of fiction.

An unfamiliar man was on the ground, obviously trying to get away from a hidden figure before him that seemed to be cloaked in darkness. He let out a sound that I’d never heard a human make, one that I couldn’t even compare to something I’d heard before, and a shiver ran down my back. As the figure took a step forward I recognized it as Annabelle, or what seemed to be some version of her. Her normally grey eyes were now bright red, sharp fangs on display as she snarled at the man. A group of people were surrounding them, alarmed looks on their faces but hardly trying to intervene.

“What the hell?” I whispered, my eyes wide as I tried to back away without anyone noticing. But of course, I just had to step on an empty soda can, all eyes pointing my way. As I looked at the people around me, their expressions seemed to mirror mine and I swallowed, suddenly feeling immensely claustrophobic.

I met eyes with Annabelle and she seemed to change in a flash, her eyes returning to their former color and fangs disappearing. She looked more panicked than I had ever seen her which only scared me more. She was always able to keep her stressors under control, but as she stared back at me, I saw a version of her I never had before.

I was barely able to form a sentence, adrenaline coursing through me at a rampant rate, “Um...” 

Annabelle slowly walked towards me, “Oh—hey! Sorry I disappeared for a while but how’s the party going? Are you having fun?” Panic was still evident in her voice but I knew she was trying to keep a hold of the situation.

“I...I don’t-”

A stern voice came from left, and I nervously turned to meet Jongho, an unreadable expression crossing his face, “Y/n.”

“Yeah?” My voice squeaked as I began to regret agreeing to come along in the first place, still hyper aware of all the eyes on me.

“Come with me.”

His eyes softened at my panicked state and he held out a hand, “Please?”

I was hesitant, but being anywhere away from the crowd and whatever Annabelle turned into seemed to be a good idea. I took his hand and watched as he exchanged a look with Annabelle that seemed to calm her. Turning on his heels he led me back to the bonfire, sitting in a chair and motioning for me to do the same. Seeing no one around us gave me a feeling of both anxiety and comfort, and I wasn’t quite sure which feeling was winning at the moment.

“Well I’m sure you have plenty of questions.” He started, “I won’t lie to you and try to convince you what you saw wasn’t real, because it was, but I need you to know that no one is going to harm you. That guy is Anna’s roommate and they get into an argument at least once a week. Sometimes it can be nasty, but they never get physical and neither would ever hurt anyone unprovoked. No one here would.”

I was silent for a few minutes, trying to process what I saw on top of the time bomb of information he dropped on me. “Is she...is everyone....are you a vampire?” I whispered the last words, almost too stunned and afraid to say out loud.

He smiled slightly, his kind eyes making me feel safe. “Yes. We’re what you’d call vampires.”

I took a breath, almost afraid to hear the answer to my question, “Am I in any danger by being here?”

“No, everyone here is good. They don’t pose any threat. There are plenty of dangerous vampires but we stay away from them. Besides,” He placed an arm around my waist, playfulness in his eyes, “If there were, I’d protect you from them.”

“Oh? And how don’t I know you’re not dangerous?”

He leaned closer to me, clearly enjoying this, “You don’t, I suppose. Doesn’t that make it fun?”

“That’s very much debatable,” I smiled for a moment before a frown took over, “Everyone just seemed really...I don’t know, startled I guess?”

Jongho let out a loud sigh, looking down at the ground for a few seconds before looking back up at me, “Humans aren’t normally invited to these parties. It’s assumed that everyone here is a vampire. The perfume that you’re wearing, whatever the hell it is, is masking your scent. If I didn’t meet you before today I wouldn’t have known you were human. I guess Anna didn’t tell everyone, either.” He placed a hand on my knee and looked at me with kind eyes, “How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly calm considering that I just learned vampires exist.”

Jongho laughed, “Yeah I’d say you’re taking it pretty well. Like I said earlier though, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of questions, so fire away.”

“Yeah I have a few.” I hesitated, hoping he wouldn’t be offended by my question, “Exactly how old are you?”

“Oh are you gonna age shame me?”

“No but it’s probably an important thing to know...since we kissed and all.”

He laughed again and leaned back in his chair, placing his arms behind his head,  “How old do you think I am?”

I used his question as an excuse for my eyes to wander over his body. He was beyond attractive, very clearly fit and he knew it, which equal parts pissed me off and turned me on. As hard as I tried, I kept finding myself being pulled to his thighs. Even through his jeans I could tell he had strong thighs and I had to press my fingernails into my palm to keep from drooling. “From your appearance? Early twenties. From what age fiction usually tells us vampires are? I’d guess you’re a hundred and three.”

Jongho nodded with a smile, “I’m not quite that old but that’s a fair guess. You had it right the first time. I’m a pure born and we actually age, but we don’t age as quickly as humans. I’m twenty.”

“Pure born?”

“It means both of my parents are vampires.”

I nodded as another question came to mind, a smile on my lips. “Do you sparkle in the daylight?”

“Oh my god,” He covered his face with his hands, a mixture of a groan and a laugh escaping his mouth, “No, we do not sparkle in daylight, “His hands came to rest on his knees, “But it sucks that we really shouldn’t be in direct sunlight for over two hours a day. That’s normally the rule to go by. It’ll burn us if we’re in it for much longer than that.”

“So do werewolves and witches and everything like that exist, too?”

“Yeah pretty much. We don’t all get along, but we have to coexist. It’s something we’ve struggled with for a while, unfortunately. Basically everything you’d believe to be supernatural exists.”

I was silent for a while, not really knowing what else to say.

“Y/n? Are you doing okay? If you’re not comfortable being here I can drive you home right now or if you’d rather be alone I can call an Uber or—”

My heart skipped a beat at his kindness. “No, I’m okay. I guess I’m just surprised I’m learning about this just now.”

“We do a good job of hiding it. Also it was probably a given, but keep this as a secret if you can. Having a lot of people know about our existence can be risky.”

I gave him a silent nod, unintentionally leaning closer to him. The sound of approaching footsteps made me jump into Jongho’s arms. I didn’t know why I found comfort in him, knowing that he could be dangerous as well, but he’d been nothing but sweet to me. I had no reason to fear him.

Annabelle approached us but stopped, taking a few steps back when she saw how I was buried in Jongho’s arms.

“Hey y/n.” She rubbed her arm, looking down as if she’d done something wrong.

“I guess Jongho probably told you everything at this point. I’m really sorry if I scared you and I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore.” Even in the dark I could see tears beginning to stream down her cheeks and I felt a pain in my chest.

I got up from Jongho’s hold and wrapped my arms around her, feeling her stiffen, “I trust you, Annabelle.”

Those four words seemed to relax her and she returned my hug, still sniffling, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We aren’t supposed to tell anyone and I thought you might hate me—”

I pulled back, “Why the hell would I hate you? You’re still you.”

She laughed through tears, gripping me tighter, thanking me over and over for not pushing her away.

We’re gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay.

-

Not too long after, Jongho drove me home. The ride was more silent than when we were headed to Annabelle’s house, but the air wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable. Feeling tired, I laid my head on Jongho’s shoulder, faintly hearing ‘sleep well, baby’ before drifting asleep.

When I woke, I was in my bed. I reached for my phone on the bedside table and found a little note placed next to it that read:

I hope you don’t mind that I carried you inside. I tried to wake you for like five minutes but you were out cold. Anyways, I had a really good time with you yesterday and I hope you had fun too :) Text me when you wake so I know you’re okay. -J

I looked at my clock and saw that it was still early, but I texted Jongho anyway.

Me [3:00am] Not sure if you’re still up, but I really enjoyed yesterday, too. I’m exhausted so I’m gonna go back to sleep but I just wanted to say I’m okay and everything is good :))

A Cute Buffoon [3:00am] Sleep well, darling. We can talk in the morning

-

It had been roughly a month since Jongho and I started dating, and while I felt like I knew him pretty well, we had only known each other a little over a month, on top of the fact that he was a vampire which was essentially an entire separate culture. I’d asked him most questions I had early throughout our relationship, but one in particular kept replaying in my mind.

We were currently sitting on the couch in my apartment, cuddling each other. The TV was on but neither of us were really watching it. I was far more interested in the warm body in front of me, and based off of how Jongho was looking at me, the feeling was mutual.

I bit my lip, anxiously mulling over the question I’d wanted to ask him for weeks. I didn’t know how he would take it, let alone how I would bring it up, but I needed to ask at some point. Knowing he could probably sense my nerves, I gave in. “Jongho, can a human turn into a vampire?”

He hummed, turning to face me. “Why do you ask?”

“I just...I didn’t know if it could happen or not.”

Jongho chuckled, “Yeah it’s possible. It’s a long ass process to go through though, and there’s a lot that can go wrong, so it rarely happens.”

I shifted in my seat, trying not to appear overly interested. “Why is that? What can go wrong?

He smiled and raised a brow, his cocky persona resurfacing, “You sound so eager to know, dear. Do you want to become a vampire?” His eyes briefly flickered towards my lips before he tilted his head, dragging his soft lips across my neck. I let out a gasp when I felt the tips of his teeth lightly scraping the skin, “Or maybe you’re just looking for an excuse for me to put my mouth on you?”

Like with anything that exuded him, I felt myself becoming quickly overwhelmed, my mind now hazy and distant. I shut my eyes in an attempt to gain some semblance of control over myself.

“Your thoughts are swirling, doll.” Jongho began leaving gentle kisses along the side of my jaw, “Don’t think too much. Just let me take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay.” I said through a short breath, knowing we’d just have to have the conversation another time.

We’d had sex before, so it wasn’t like this was new territory for us, but every time felt like the first, leaving me just as out of breath each time.

He lifted me and placed me on his thigh, dragging me across his flexed muscles. I felt my eyes roll back at the simple motion, my need growing at an embarrassing rate. I grabbed his shoulders as I began to drag myself against him, whines and whimpers spilling from my lips.

“God you’re hot,” Jongho said through hot breaths, beginning to kiss my neck, no doubt leaving marks.

“Thanks I try.” I managed to say, pleased when Jongho laughed.

“You don’t even have to, and it’s completely unfair.” His hands moved under my shirt and danced along my skin, “It’s like you’re an angel come to life.”

I let out a loud moan, feeling tears well in my eyes from his praise, “You always make me feel so beautiful when I’m with you.”

Jongho responded with a smile, carrying me to my bedroom and laying me down on the bed while hurriedly discarding both of our clothes.

“You’re always so eager, babe.”

He nuzzled my neck as he climbed on top of me, his hands finding my own and holding them, “As if you’re not.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

He then moved in between my thighs, teasing me with his fingers as he ran them along my wet slit, occasionally rubbing my clit, drawing small whines from me.

“Jongho please just fuck me already.”

“Sweetheart, do you even think you’re wet enough for me?” He cooed.

Feeling frustrated, I pushed my fingers inside myself with ease, pulling them out and spreading them so he could see my essence dripping down my fingers, “I don’t know you tell me.” I said with far more sass than I intended.

Jongho’s eyes widened at the sight and wasted no time positioning his cock at my entrance, pushing in and letting out the most beautiful groans.

Neither of us ever bothered to use protection because, to put it simply, vampires couldn’t get humans pregnant. It was only possible when both partners were vampires, and we took full advantage of that.

“Fuck—baby you feel amazing. You’re so warm and tight ohmygod.” Jongho moaned as he began to move, thrusting in and out of me at a steady pace.

I clenched around him, loving when he was vocal. His sounds helped get me off just as much as his actions, at times it seemed.

“You feel...really good...too.” I said through heavy breaths. And as much as I wanted to last longer in bed, with Jongho, I never could.

“I don’t know if it’s because you’re a vampire and you’ve got like magic powers or something or maybe you’re just a sex god���but holy shit...I’m close.”

He threw back his head and had the audacity to laugh, something I really couldn’t stay mad at with how good he was making me feel. “Babe it’s been like six minutes.”

“Don’t be an asshole.” I joked, my laugh turning into a moan. It only spurred Jongho on, making him angle one of my legs up higher, hitting deeper inside of me.

“I know you’re close, baby. I can feel it. Cum for me, baby girl. Let go for me.”

He reached down to tease my sensitive nub, drawing quick circles until I was seeing stars, chanting his name like a prayer.

After Jongho came down from his high, he disappeared into the bathroom as he always did, coming back with a warm towel. As he pressed the towel to my thighs I tried to ask again.

“So...about the human to vampire thing?”

“Well,” Jongho sighed, “I didn’t think I’d be able to distract you forever.” He smiled, “It’s mostly done because couples want to stay together. The thing is though, the vampire obviously gets a taste of the human’s blood and it can be hard to stop once you’ve marked them, especially since smell is such a big allure for us.”

He took a long breath, “Then the human will almost always pass out, and needs to be taken care of for the next couple days because they’ll be so weak. Another problem is that the scent of their blood will be amplified during those days and it’ll be harder for the vampire to not, you know...” He looked away, not able to say the words. I knew what he meant, we both did. In some cases, vampires would kill their human partners for of their blood. Sometimes it was beyond their control. Just a primal need that would betray them. “Then their scent is more easily detected by other vampires and the whole thing is just kinda a mess. I think I’ve only heard of five attempts and only one of them was successful.”

I nodded, not really knowing what to say.

“And then on top of it all, it can be harder for the human to adjust and it can put a lot of pressure on the relationship. Human and vampire relationships are dangerous.”

His face was serious as he ran a hand through my hair. I looked up at him and leaned into his touch.

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, a shy behavior I hadn’t seen from him before, “I guess it’s important for you to decide then.” His eyes met mine again, “Is this still something you want to continue?”

“Our relationship?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course, are you crazy? You mean the world to me.” I swallowed, realizing he hadn’t voiced his own thoughts, “What about you? Do you want this?”

“I think you have a pretty good idea of what I want.” He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, his eyes sparkling.

“Hey Jongho?”

He hummed, looking at me.

“I want to spend forever with you.”

[mcudarklibrary]

Author Q&A: searchforanotherway

🖤 The MCU Dark Library encourages everyone to reblog and share the wonderful talents of this community, no matter how big or small your following is. Supporting each other is key to ensuring the longevity of this community. 🖤

Please be sure to reblog and share with your followers.

Tell us who you are!

@searchforanotherway​

How long have you been writing fanfics? If the MCU wasn’t your first fandom, what was?

I published my first fanfic on FFN in 2015 for Naruto and RWBY. From there, I discovered a community of Overwatch writers on Tumblr by 2018 and began writing fanfic for Overwatch until I got into the marvel and started writing Avengers fanfic in 2019.

What helps motivate you to write? Where do you find inspiration?

If I am procrastinating and looking for motivation, usually I will go back and re-read some of my works to get the gears in my head thinking about future scenes and plot. I like to think of myself as a maladaptive daydreamer and visualize my story to help organize the plot. I also try to re-read some of my favorites from other writers as good inspiration to remind myself of the type of dark!fic and writing style I'm hoping to achieve. 

If you could give new writers any advice, what would it be?

Read from your favorite fanfic authors and ANALYZE their work. I don't mean to say "be critical", but notice the things they do right! Or in better terms, notice the things you like about their writing. Some writers are talented at exposition or narration, detailed descriptions, setting the tone (especially for dark!fics) in their writing, paragraph formatting and grammar; understand all the writers that inspire you and adopt parts of their writing style that you like from all of them to help improve your own writing and create a unique style that you can appreciate.

The last advice I will give is a classic saying that I think all writers are well familiar with: "show, don't tell". It's something I'm still trying to get better at myself, but I do think that writing descriptively helps! And trying to balance that with some exposition and narration can make the difference in the pacing of your fic. There's a lot of resources online, so I suggest checking it out if your still confused! The internet is always available to help you with writing!

What is your favourite dark trope and/or kink? Why?

As much as I wouldn't mind listing off every trope and kink I love, I think I can sum them all up as any trope or kink that has disturbing intimacy. So breeding kinks and A/B/O's are a yes! Not so much other things like gun/knife kinks. Along that, any type of yandere trope that shows some sort of one-sided affection to the subject of said affections. 

Share a few lines/paragraphs of one of your stories that truly sums up your style. Don’t forget to share a link to the story!

I will leave a lengthy snippet below from my Overwatch story, 'Hime'. It's currently still in progress and available to read on AO3. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539803/chapters/43942510)

- - - - -

“Don’t take me away from him! I’m not leaving!”

But no amount of strength you had could help you as Hanzo finally ripped you away from Genji.

“No! Nooo!” You beat your fists over the Shimada lord, but they did nothing while Hanzo quickly lifted you into his arms, carrying you like the bride you were supposed to be, walking the two of you away from the crowd.

You turned over to face them again, yelling louder, “Please! Someone save my husband, please!” You cried even harder watching all the shocked expressions from everyone. They all roamed closer to Genji’s dying body, but none of them made a move to help him.

You reached out for your love, and countless more tears washed down your face, but when the gates to the palace suddenly came into your vision, closing itself from the city, did you turn to Hanzo.

“Brother! W-where are you taking me?” Hanzo didn’t respond but instead continued to walk through the compound and up the stairs that led to the Shimada’s home. You struggled out of his grip, but Hanzo’s grasp was firm and unyielding. You cried out in pain when his hands held your body even tighter to his hot chest. The doors into the home opening as he led both of you inside. You continued to cry until he eventually led you to his room.

Hanzo released you then, placing you down on your feet only for you to try and bolt away from him a few seconds later. Hanzo quickly grabbed you by your forearm before you even reached the door, and pulled you further back into the room.

“Hanzo stop!” You yanked your arm, but he did not let go. “Stop Hanzo! Why are you doing this? Please! Genji is your brother! I am your sist—”

You couldn’t finish when Hanzo turned to you, more furious than you have ever seen a man before. “You are not my sister! You are my wife! And I will consummate this marriage tonight!”

What did he say?

His wife?... Consummate?

You screamed.

Is there a dark trait you like to interweave into your dark characters? Is there something in particular that draws you to this characteristic?

I enjoy dark!characters that have yandere and delusional characteristics, and I like to sum up the reason why as my intense fear and guilt to be in an actual irl relationship to which I use fanfics to create characters that would love the reader and be with her against her consent.

Which story did you struggle to complete? The one that made you drag your feet to finish.

I consider my story, 'Hunger' to be the most struggling to write. I initially wrote that just to let out my sexual frustrations, but a lot of feedback has been about the plot... That I've barely made outside of a few important events. With that, there's been some pressure to speed up the pacing. Also, fun fact: 'Hunger' was originally supposed to be an Overwatch fanfic.

Do you have a mutual who will hold your hand and support you when you’re doubting yourself? Do you have one who will truthfully and honestly help you grow as a writer?

@americasass81​ has been there for me a lot when I've been at my worst doubting myself, and the sweetest part about it was that she reached out to me on her own accord usually after I post a rant. She is incredible and literally carrying this community on her back--we don't deserve her. 

As for who helped me grow as a writer, I definitely confided with @darkdrabblings​ back when I first got into Overwatch fanfiction. We would throw each other headcanon ideas and all that, and she really did support me a lot. Since then, I don't really have a lot of conversations about my writing with other people.

Do you have a story that contains personal or important details from an experience that is your own?

My first story that I wrote on FFN, 'Nothing More, Nothing Less', was written when I was severely depressed, with a female protagonist that reflected me and my life. 'A Thousand Suns' is another one in which the protagonist's background would be similar to my own. 

Check out @searchforanotherway​ masterlist here

🖤Please reblog and help promote and support dark content creators 🖤

[drarry-we-meet]

Valentine’s Day Sucks

Part 1

Draco grit his teeth as another wave of ooohs and ahhhs sounded across the small collection of cubicles. He tried to ignore the outbreak of distinctly feminine chatter and focus on the report he was currently writing. After reading the same paragraph three times, he was finally able to get back into the flow of things. He was halfway through drafting his next sentence when a loud bang followed by assorted squeals and giggles broke out, and he couldn’t help but sneak a peek.

Longbottom was currently surrounded by a cloud of glittering pink smoke that smelled strongly of roses, and there on his desk was a humongous box of chocolates. Draco sighed, he was more than ready for this Valentine’s Day nonsense to be over with. It was bad enough hearing all the witches in his department cooing like a pack of wild doves each time one of them received a flower delivery, which of course was every few minutes. But to make matters worse, this year the wizards seemed to be getting just as many gifts thanks the Wheezes new ad campaign which insisted that witches must also get soppy romantic trinkets for their gents.

Draco would have admired such a brilliant marketing strategy, that had surely doubled their profits this year, if it didn’t cause him to have double the annoyance at the same time. While the witches gifts were more traditional and quiet; flowers, chocolate, jewelry. The men’s gifts were far sillier; singing heat shaped telegrams that burst into miniature fireworks at the end of their song, stuffed bears that did cartwheels across desks before exploding into a shower of confetti, and large boxes like Longbottom’s that went off like a bomb, leaving behind chocolates once the smoke had cleared.

Of course it didn’t help matters that Draco knew he wouldn’t be receiving anything this year. It wasn’t that he was alone, at least not technically. He had been seeing, or at least sleeping with, Harry-savior-of-the-whole-fucking-wizarding-world Potter, for just over 4 months. Not that it counted though, probably. They had never discussed whether or not what they were doing was exclusive. For Draco it was, and he was fairly certain it was for Harry as well, seeing how he barely had any free-time as Deputy Head Auror and all. But a lack of time to see other people, and actually wanting to date someone were two very different things.

Case in point was the Mountain of gifts that Draco could see steadily growing in the office across the room filled with their cubicles. Witches and wizards from all over the world sent Harry gifts each holiday, but this one always seemed to be the worst. Two curse breakers were currently stationed in the room sorting, screening, and vanishing questionable gifts, while Harry himself was still out meeting with the muggle liaison of Interpol for some reason or another. He wasn’t due to return until Monday, and by then his office would be clear once again.

The safe candy was set aside to be distributed to various departments in the ministry, particularly those inconvenienced the most by this whole fiasco; the mailroom, the janitors union, the curse breakers, and of course the aurors. All of the mail was piled neatly for his secretary to review. The majority of it would be vanished of course, but a few of the most polite ones would be answered eventually.

In fact, now that Draco thought about it, his willingness to always be available to Harry no matter how last minute or weird the hour was, in order to be able to see Harry in between his many meetings and trips abroad might be the only reason Harry even bothered with him at all. It was that thought, paired with the reminder that so far whatever ‘this’ was between them had remained a carefully guarded secret from even their closest friends, that caused a sharp clenching pain inside his gut. Draco determinedly pushed all thoughts of the idiot-who-lived far from his mind and tried once again to focus on work.

By lunchtime, the continuous loud bangs and rose scented smoke that accompanied them, had the beginnings of a migraine forming behind Draco’s eyes. He decided to escape the ministry for a bit and get some fresh air at the cafe across the street. He had just finished, and stood up to don his coat when a shadow appeared across his desk. He looked up into the sneering faces of Zacharias Smith, his well-endowed girlfriend, and a couple of brand new trainees whose names he didn’t care to remember.

"I was just about to head to lunch Smith so whatever it is you need will have to wait till after I return,” Draco kept his most impassive face in place, but his voice was firm. He knew the only thing Smith wanted was to start trouble and he wasn’t in the mood for any of it.

Smith smirked, “I just wanted to ask you where your Valentine’s Day gift was," he asked with a faux sweet voice.

That threw Draco for a loop for a minute, “What are you talking about?"

Smith and his group immediately started laughing, Draco wasn’t sure what the hell they found so funny or why on earth they were asking him about Valentine’s gifts of all things.

Smith’s smile had only gotten wider, “Well Malfoy, he emphasized, maybe it has escaped your notice, but you’re the only person in the entire department, possibly even the entire ministry who hasn’t received even one measly card.”

Draco could feel his heart rate picking up, but he hadn’t lived with old-moldyfarts for nothing, and was able to keep his face blank and posture relaxed. Smith was just getting warmed up though, pointing out how ‘of course’ they shouldn’t be so surprised that he hadn’t received anything, since he was death eater scum and all. By this point they were attracting the attention of the rest of the office.

Draco could see out of the corner of his eye that Granger was heading their direction, but Draco would rather die than have someone he once allowed to be tortured in his house defend him from a spineless git like Smith.

Draco carefully rolled his eyes and shook his head at Smith, “is that really the best you could come up with today Zachary?” Because he knew how much Smith hated people using the shorter form of his name, "you must be having just such a fulfilling Valentine’s Day yourself if you would rather spend all your time talking to me than your girlfriend, what are you 12?” He then swept out of the office before Smith could reply or Granger could reach them.

He was waiting down the hall for the lift when a fierce grip grabbed his arm and spun him around. It was Smith’s girlfriend, and Draco was fairly shocked to be manhandled by her. She, unlike her slimy boyfriend, had always seemed like a genuinely nice person. However her face right now was twisted in fury.

"No one will ever love you," she spat. "You can look down on us all you want, but in the end you will be a bitter old man and die alone. You don’t even have any friends!” She spun on her heel and left then.

Draco was left reeling in the hallway, his vision swimming a bit and his breathing a bit too fast and shallow. As the room came back into focus he locked eyes with Granger. Of course she had followed him out into the hall, of course she’d probably seen the whole thing. Fuck. The lift chimed and Draco stumbled back into in, jamming the door close button to stop her from pursuing him any further. He knew that look, that look of pity, and it made him sick to his stomach.

Draco ended up skipping lunch, he walked aimlessly around the nearest park until his face and fingers were numb with cold despite his gloves and warming charms. The words, “no one will ever love you,” played on endless repeat in his head as he fought to direct his thoughts toward anything else. He didn’t know why he let their words get to him like that, he didn’t give a shit what Smith or his girlfriend thought.

But the words had cut him to the bone, mainly because it was a very real fear he had held onto since the end of the war. His friends had all fled the country after the trials, some even before, and his dating life had been pretty nonexistent for the last 6 years. Nothing they had said was technically wrong. The men Draco had been with were ok with fucking him as long as no one ever found out. He just wasn’t the type of person anyone could ever take home to meet their parents.

And Draco had been ok with that, or so he thought. Relationships were just messy, unnecessary. Until Harry. Harry was the first man Draco had ever been with who took him to dinner, (at muggle restaurants), who always spent the night, who held him after sex, who made breakfast for him the morning after. Harry made him watch muggle films on his couch while giving him neck rubs or foot rubs and always made sure he had Draco’s favorite tea on hand. By the second month Draco had begun to think that maybe, just maybe they were something more than just sex.

But then one day they had been interrupted mid-foreplay by one of Harry’s friends visiting unannounced, and Harry had quickly shoved Draco into the closet and told him to be quiet. Draco had died a little inside that day. It was an unspoken agreement after that. Draco was a secret, a dirty little secret, just like always.

Draco returned to the office a few minutes late, half frozen and despondent, but as always he didn’t let any of it show on his face. He had considered skiving off the rest of the day, but wouldn’t give Smith the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under his skin.

He buried himself in his work and carefully ignored any whispers or glances he felt come his way, but he was still attuned enough to the atmosphere of the room to notice as everyone was wrapping up their tasks at the end of the day and loudly discussing their romantic plans for the evening, when a ripple of silence suddenly overtook the room. It was so quiet and still that Draco looked up, wondering if everyone had somehow been stupefied simultaneously.

His jaw dropped as his eyes met green. Harry was standing just in front of his desk looking so very fit in his deputy head uniform. His brass buttons shining, his hair tousled just right, his brilliant eyes unobstructed since he’d finally ditched his horrid specs long ago. He was holding a garment bag in one hand and the biggest bouquet of long stemmed roses in the other. They were wrapped in white silk with a dark red bow, each petal had gold filigree on the edges.

"Are you ready to go darling?” He asked with a warm and inviting face, a fair bit of mischief in his eyes.

Draco, who had no idea what was going on, but was pretty sure he must have passed out from all the fumes and was dreaming just nodded.

Harry smiled brightly and laid the garment bag over Draco’s desk. "Well that’s good," Harry said, handing the roses to Draco, who took them dazedly, "Hermione told me you were too busy to pick up your suit today, so I went ahead and got it for you. We don’t have much time until the Portkey to Paris leaves so we’ll need to hurry home and change. I don’t think Le Cinq will let us in without the formal wear.

Draco who had decided he was definitely dreaming, simply nodded again and stood. Harry wasted no time walking around the desk to meet him. He placed a chaste, but lingering kiss on his lips, grabbed the bag and steered Draco toward the door with a warm hand on the small of his back.

The entire trek to the doors no one moved, Draco wasn’t sure any of them were even breathing. He wasn’t sure he was even breathing. Harry had just publicly outed them. Every face in the room was stricken with shock, except for Hermione who smiled at them both and Ron who gave him a curt nod. Draco realized neither of them were surprised. They know, he thought, oh gods they already know. He looked at Harry again and Harry gave him another dazzling smile and kiss on the cheek.

As soon as they were outside the doors a cacophony of noise sounded behind them and Harry turned to wink at Draco, but instead of heading toward the lifts, he simply wrapped his arm more firmly around Draco’s waist and apparated them on the spot.

-gift for @mothermalfoy

Link to Part 2:  https://drarry-we-meet.tumblr.com/post/190868463275/valentines-day-sucks-warning-this-2nd-half

[sageblogsthings]

to celebrate The Crimson Moon reaching 30k as of this morning, i thought that i would share the progression of the opening lines of the book, and talk a bit about how the book has grown and changed in the last year! on july 27th it will be exactly a year since i first started writing this and wow i’m not getting emotional you are aha whaaaat

*cough* anywayyysss!!

draft one: please oh god don't judge me

ok i'm not going to talk negatively about my past writing because it got me to where i am today but. [marge i am looking away meme] if you can't tell, i wrote this when i was going through the existential crisis phase of uni and just wanted to live in the woods, i say like i would not currently move to the woods in a heartbeat asdklfja

at the time that i wrote this i was really happy with it because the writing was fun and, as a result, easy! at this point i was just writing in my down time from uni, and i didn't know what the plot was or what my plans were for the book as a whole. because this was just something i did in my down time, i think my writing took on more of a conversational, stream-of-consciousness tone, and that's part of what made this draft (or start of a draft, i only got like 12k in i think) so easy to write. but eventually, as the plot started to come together and i started to gain more inspiration from sff writers as a whole, i realized that this book wasn't heading in the direction i wanted it to. it wasn't just something to do in my free time at that point, it had taken on a life of it's own. and thus, draft two began.

draft two: electric boogaloo

ngl these lines still slap and i love them. there are definitely things i would change, but these lines will be in the current draft of the book, albeit not in the first chapter and altered slightly. when i started this draft, i didn't have an outline but i had a very clear, cinematic image of how i wanted this chapter to go. i think having that before i started writing helped a looooot, both in terms of prose and just being able to convey aspects of the setting/character in the first paragraph. as i continued writing this draft though, i realized that some of the character arcs didn't make sense or were getting a bit messy, and that, based on the story i wanted to tell, it didn't make sense to start with Xalia. while there are six main pov characters in this book, Vanna really is the main character and i wanted that to be clear.

draft three: this time it's personal actually good

these are the current first lines of the book, and honestly my favorite so far! starting off with Vanna rather than Xalia definitely gives the book a different feel, and it's one that's more true to the vision i have for it. in my opinion, this opening does a much better job of setting up some of the book's themes, which admittedly i'm still figuring out lol. grief and loss are major components of all the character arcs, and are integral to the plot itself. switching to present tense has also been a LIFE CHANGER for me. it's funny because, on the second stab at this book, i kept slipping into present tense, but forcing myself back to past tense because i thought present tense sounded weird. turns out it only sounded weird because it was surrounded by past tense, and now that i've written 3 chapters in present tense i can solidly say that this is the way the book was meant to be written. it just feels like my book now, and i'm so happy with where it's headed!

i also made an outline for this draft of the book, and while i've already deviated from it somewhat to work out plot holes or increase ~foreshadowing~ in certain scenes, getting all of the events out of my head and onto paper has really allowed me to just write because i know that i have a document to refer back to if i get stuck on where the story is headed. making the outline also really pushed me to think about character backstories, most of which i had previously established, but now they've changed a lot to fit together more cohesively and integrate with the plot more clearly. i've also changed a lot of the character designs, and as a result of changing the appearances and backstories of a lot of the characters, i feel a lot closer to them and the story itself. the characters have well and truly taken on a life of their own, and now i'm kind of just along for the ride, telling their stories and loving every second of it!

ALSO!! the last big change with this draft, which i just implemented literally this morning and am so so sooooo excited about, is having first person referral, present tense mini-chapters/interludes! it gives the book a really unique sound and ties into the plot really nicely i think! i feel like the structure and form of the story are finally tying into the story itself and it's driving me insane a little bit askdfjka

as of right now i'm not ready to reveal who the pov and referral characters are in these chapters, because i'm debating between a couple ways of doing things and if i go one way that would end up being a pretty big spoiler! that being said, i got really hyped up about it earlier today and rambled in the spoilers section of my server so if you do want that sweet sweet spoilers content....join my server! ;)

also. i hope u all know that i almost deleted that first snippet about ten different times but transparency in writing and all that, i really do want to show how much this book has grown and changed! even if it's going to cause me immense psychic damage to type up the image description for this but i digress

i think that's all for now, and thank you so so much if you read all of that! the love and support this project has received and continues to receive absolutely blow me away, and i can't thank you enough for being part of the journey! <3

the crimson moon taglist (ask to be +/-)

@dallonswords | @isherwoodj | @florraisons | @aetherwrites | @childhoodlovers | @bijouxs | @ziyin | @moonhungers | @piyawrites | @avi-why | @svpphicwrites | @alicewestwater | @ladywithalamp | @spencers-tomes | @discreet-writer | @sunwornpages | @abalonetea | @the-bard-writes | @x-writes | @morganwriteblr​ ​| @aphaimaniis | @stephwriteswords | @ninazeniks ​| @araliensmagica | @fuyugomori | @ryns-ramblings | @greyjaywrites | @marimos

image descriptions below the cut

[header image description]

the background is a dark castle with a checkerboard-patterned marble floor. the hallway fades into black, with the hint of a figure standing in the doorway. white text across the image reads "The Crimson Moon" in a large, all-caps font, and below that reads "wip update post" in thin, lowercase text.

[image description for excerpt one]

I lay on my back, gazing up at the sky. The weather was absolutely perfect. I could hear the crickets singing, the birds chirping, the brook babbling, all that good poetic shit.

I came out here often, just to get away and pretend like I wasn't a part of the fuck-all society I lived in. How could humans be so ignorant? We live in a world with this, I gestured expansively in my mind at the field around me, how can we not see how beautiful it is? How perfect it is? How imperfect we are by comparison?

[image description for excerpt two]

Xalia strode down the marble halls, the soft leather of her shoes meeting each tile with a cacophony of echoes. This was not the first, second, hundredth time that she had walked these passageways, and yet the chill she felt when contained within their depths never seemed to subside. The looming corridors and billowing curtains always seemed to hide sinister whispers that breathed down her neck and pricked at the tips of her ears. Perhaps it was the High Council, with their unnerving masks and owlish eyes, seeming to know and perceive all — or perhaps it was the knowledge that every time she stalked back towards the exit, she would carry the weight of another’s life on her shoulders, a life that she had to take.

[image description for excerpt three]

Vanna’s mother always tells them that grief is a sharp, biting thing; something that latches its teeth around your stomach until you double over with the weight of it. But for Vanna, that’s not quite right. There isn’t something hidden and tucked away behind the confines of their gut because there isn’t anything there at all. As they walk towards the town well — a spell book in one hand and emptiness in the other — they think that their mother got it wrong trying to describe grief in terms of presence. Grief, to them, can only be absence. The absence of light, the absence of a smile, and the absence of a palm which had curled so perfectly into theirs.

[amphtaminedreams]

Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot (Part 2)

Hey to anyone reading,

I’m so sorry for the gap between the last fashion week review post and this one! Argh. I had no idea I posted it as long ago as the beginning of March but I think we can all agree that lockdown has fucked with our perceptions of time completely. I wish I could say the delay in posting was as simple as me being busy but I’ve also started to reflect on whether or not I want to carry on this format of posts for the time being; on the scale of problems, this one is wayyy down there in the very lower quartile of the first world region, but my motivation to carry on this kind of content in the form of long-winded text posts is...meh...not so much there anymore. At first I was thinking the issue was that working on these was my last priority on my daily to-do lists but as I’ve got back into writing fiction, it’s kind of occurred to me that the fact I was putting these posts on my to-do lists in the first place along with things like doing the ironing and contacting student finance speaks volumes. When I’m back from work or winding down, opening up Tumblr and coming back to this draft isn’t something that I think of as a fun stress reliever in the way drafting stories is. It doesn’t feel like I’m using my imagination or my creativity or expressing myself in any way and it’s not much of an escape from day to day life in the way that writing dialogue or exploring characters is. Maybe it’s because I’ve done quite a few of these posts now but I just tend to feel like I’m repeating myself, you know kinda like when you’re writing an essay and trying to fill up a word count; of course there are collections that I do have a lot of opinions on but by and large, sometimes it boils down to THESE CLOTHES ARE JUST FUCKING PRETTY, OKAY?! There’s only so many things you can say about a tulle skirt or an exaggerated collar before you want to strangle yourself with said tulle. I used to think iF VoGUe RuNwaY wRitErs CaN dO iT WhAT's MY exCusE until I realised that 1). Vogue Runway writers actually get paid and 2). for the most part all they do is explain the designer's intentions behind the collections verbatim without giving a critical opinion anyway.

I think a lot of the pressure I feel to justify what are in reality quite simple observations and opinions goes back to some of the feelings I explained in my first ever fashion week review where people who know more about fashion and have a formal education in the subject tend to be kind of gatekeep-y and elitist. It can never be that you appreciate different things about a collection but rather than one of you has taste and the other doesn’t and if it wasn’t obvious, the taste level assigned to you by the powers that be tend to positively correlate with the amount of money you have available to spend on a degree that has a reputation for failing to provide a steady income, which for most makes it an unrealistic avenue to pursue. I know, I know, the pressure is totally self-inflicted and wholly imagined seeing as I have under 500 followers on here and those who do interact with these posts most likely do so for the pictures but I still feel it, and given that I’m going to have enough external pressure to write essays when I return to uni in September, why on earth am I wasting time putting it on myself? When just posting photosets of my favourite looks is not only actually enjoyable for me but is also what other people WANT to see too? Nobody wants to read a self-indulgent paragraph like this when they’re here for the clothes and to be honest, for the most part I don’t want to write them anyway unless it’s something I have strong feelings about or if a collection can only be properly appreciated with analysis. I think I’ve made pretty clear which designers I’m a fan of, do you really need to hear me raving about Gucci or Zimmerman or Miu Miu or Balenciaga again? Is there gonna be anything revolutionary in yet another rant about Maria Grazia? Course not. I mean, if you are reading, you might have to witness those things one last time because I do intend to finish off this season’s review in this format for consistency purposes and because I’ve already got all the notes now but on the whole, I doubt anyone will miss my rambles.

So, with all that in mind, I think after I finish my S/S21 posts I am gonna start just uploading these posts without the written part. I mean, for one, the simplicity of doing this means I’m much less likely to procrastinate making them which in turn means I’ll be able to get them out right after the shows as a kind of summary as opposed to months later when they’re no longer as relevant. This will also give me more time to work on the writing I actually enjoy. Right now I’m going through and editing my 17 year old self’s “grown-up” take on the Pretty Little Liars blackmail murder mystery style plot line which I wrote back when I was completely and utterly obsessed with the show and bitterly disappointed by the last couple of seasons. The writing is pretty mediocre and often hugely cringey to read back now but I am still a fan of the basic plot and I’m genuinely motivated to see if I can make it something actually worth reading, and to get onto that ASAP; this feels especially important right now given that the HBO version of the series’ apparent upcoming release has sent that ever-present writer’s fear of seeing-your-same-storyline-done-better-by-somebody-else-thus-forever-relegating-your-version-to-being-the-poor-imitation-so-you-gotta-get-there-first into overdrive (or maybe that’s just me and my neuroses). Again, it’s a totally unfounded fear based on the fact that the HBO show will probs get millions of viewers whilst I will be doing little more than shouting into the void but anybody who’s used Turnitin to submit an essay that ultimately counts for little more than like 1% of your grade or degree will know that no matter how irrelevant your work is, the concept of failing a plagiarism check, be it via a computer algorithm or one random stranger on the internet’s assessment, is enough to conjure visions of the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse galloping towards you screaming “START THE WHOLE THING AGAIN” before releasing a hoarde of 2015 Chanel vs. Walmart style comparison memes.

Now, speaking of Chanel, I should probably get back into the reviewing. 

So for the last time for a little while, here’s Christian Siriano:

Siriano’s designs are a great example of work I feel guilty enjoying. I know that when it comes to quality, the high fashion community have a lot of (negative) things to say and I really can’t speak to that because quite honestly, I know very little about textile manufacturing. Solely from my own point of view though, I do like his work a lot. I wouldn’t claim for a minute that he’s a pioneer in terms of his creations but I would 100% love to wear them and I DO hugely admire his commitment to putting women of all sizes on the runway and designing pieces that don’t simply cater to straight up and down types which is more than can be said for most brands. I get that his collections are pretty formulaic, taking what has worked for the likes of Chanel and Alessandra Rich, De La Renta and Carolina Herrera, Michael Kors too (who is kind of guilty of the same thing himself), but that’s not to say his work is bad. Let’s be real, we’ve been on this planet thousands of years, we’re all taking inspiration from someone, and maybe figures like Kors and Siriano could wait a *little* longer before taking said inspiration but their aim at the end of the day is to sell clothes, not break barriers, a task which although often left to the big name brands, they too often fail at. I’m not going to lie, I’m feeling this whimsical mid-century tea party vibe, it’s elegant and it’s cutesy and My Fair Lady-esque, and you bet your arse I would be absolutely thrilled to wear one of these looks on a summer red carpet. I just can’t say no to anything tulle-maybe it’s that I was on Toddlers & Tiaras in a past life or maybe it’s that I watched too many Barbie Princess films growing up, but I like pretty much everything going on here, especially Siriano is giving us matching fedoras too. Plus, can we take a moment to praise Siriano for his COVID relief efforts? Near the beginning of the pandemic, he turned his studio into a mask manufacturing factory in order to send them out as donations, and I think that is very cool.

Then there’s Christopher Kane who once again came through with the most insanely gorgeous prints:

I mean, paint splattering is hardly a new technique but I haven’t seen it done as a print so tastefully before-it eats the Moschino biro scribble print (which apparently was copied too speaking of the tendencies of designers to “borrow” inspiration) for breakfast. It’s shit because there weren’t many looks in this collection and they weren’t really shot in a way that does them any justice but I thought I’d include the few I saved.

Comme Des Garcons is a fave of the high fashion community and one I look forward to seeing at fashion week but can never quite get behind. I appreciate the what-the-fuckery of it all with this show totally being able to pass as a run-through of some kind of nuclear waste themed scare house at one of Thorpe Park’s fright nights. I assume given that and the plastic Mickey Mouse print it’s supposed to be some kind of reference to the part late-stage capitalism has played in the hellish landscape we find ourselves in today? Or something all intellectual? In which case I made my interpretation with farrrr too much confidence. But Anyway! Who knows! I’ll leave the analysis to the fashion students, and give it one word: trippy.

Onto Dion Lee, a brand I truly do get excited to talk about because it’s rare that I don’t LOVE his work.

Without fail, Lee manages to be confidently ahead of the curve without going out of his way to announce it and his genius to everyone with flamboyant shows and exaggerated designs and extortionate prices. He is very much an underdog in the fashion world in terms of big names but you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t love his collections. His S/S21 collection is one of my favourites of the bunch. I love seeing something I’ve never seen before and the palm leaf breast plate is so odd but so cool and so perfectly Dion Lee at the same time; we’ve seen jungle/tropical inspired collections sooo many times *cough cough D&G cough cough* and THIS is how you make them fresh and unique. I mean, never in a million years did I think I’d get behind the resurgence of the gladiator sandal trend but Lee has me changing my mind. This is one of the very rare times you will ever see me using this meme to praise a man but:

I mean, he has Fernanda Ly modelling for him, that the man has taste goes without saying.

Now for a bit of a full circle moment, given that I did actually praise Dior’s haute couture collection in my first ever post; Maria Grazia did GOOD. Well, with haute couture at least.

She’s always pretty hamfisted with her references, there’s no denying, with that Grecian Goddess style RTW collection typifying that statement completely, but luckily she struck gold this time round; as someone who studied the Tudors for A-level history, seeing a modern take on the exaggeratedly feminine renaissance silhouettes with the baroque prints and the deep jewell tones got me super excited especially when you throw in the dreamy tarot theming and the nods to the mystical and arcane. Seeing as the Heavenly Bodies Met Gala (I know, I know, I need to move on) was some time ago now and Cersei Lannister’s *SPOILER* been crushed by a rock (could also be seen as a metaphor for the irrelevancy David Benioff and D.B Wise condemned GoT to when they aired that shitty ending tehe) and so probably won’t be getting a collection based on her costumes any time soon, this is the only fashion take on this kind of period dress I’m going to get…and you know what? I’m okay with that. Thanks Maria, I guess?

Her RTW collection wasn’t absolutely awful either, and slightly better than the past few collections at least. Put a monkey in a room with a typewriter (or show it enough similar well-received collections) and it will eventually write something that makes sense, don’t they say? I like the nomadic feel of a lot of the looks and there’s beautiful layering going on but the aura of exotic opulence unsurprisingly didn’t stick around for long and I found that there was a decline in quality in the midsection of the show that landed a lot of the outfits in either awkward mother of the bride at a beach wedding or The Only Way is Essex Ocean Beach PLT sponsored poolside party territory. The looks picked back up a bit towards the end stretch of the show but I wasn’t a fan of the Gucci style oversized glasses which were so out of place with the rest of the theming that if anything they seemed like a cheap grab at relevancy. So yeah, a middling, subpar Etro-esque collection which is better than usual for Dior I suppose.

Next, Elie Saab, whose S/S21 collection was kinda disappointing, tbh. Oh how the turns have tabled given that positive Dior review and my usual love of Saab’s collections.

I know his dresses lose some of their appeal when we can’t see them in motion but even ON the runway I can’t see myself being dazzled by any of these pieces the way I usually am. They’re lacking the level of detail and craftsmanship I associate with the brand seemingly in favour of block colours and suits and the issue is that the whole Disney Princess fantasy has always been the appeal for me because the silhouettes aren’t interesting enough on their own. They’re not ugly pieces, they’re nice, but does nice really have a place in high fashion when the pieces are so basic in both their design and presentation that the shots could pass as ripped from a catalogue? The strongest parts of the collection were when it did go down the more delicate route with the muted blue suits and the white feather trimmed dresses, the small, ornamental gold details reminding me of a very toned down nod to Schiaparelli’s hardware, but with regards to the bright coloured pieces, I can’t lie-they did look like something you could find in the M&S Per Una holiday section. Then you’ve got the weakest parts, which were just flat out ugly: sheer giraffe print, sweat band style elasticated waits, and long chiffon shirts that I hate to admit read as frumpy. There are times where I’ve not been particularly excited by an Elie Saab collection in the past, but I do think this is the first time I’ve actively disliked parts of it.

Conversely, Erdem’s S/S21 collection was super strong, and solidified the brand’s place in my mind as a dependable source of kooky maximalism, this time round giving us  Anya Taylor Joy’s Emma wardrobe on speed. You could tell me Erdem Moralıoğlu had just raided the Bridgerton set’s fitting rooms and put it on a runway and I would 100% believe you and I mean that in a positive way because to give my unpopular opinion, the clothes were the only good thing about that show. The endearingly florid details of exaggerated bows and clashing florals were still there but this time in a way that felt more subtle and self-assured, as if the calming influence of the wooded set’d had a direct hand in the designs, giving the rugged, ethereal feel to the collection I associate with brands like Brock and Simone Rocha, all whilst keeping the parts of Erdem I’m so fond of.

Is it really much of a shock that I included pretty much every look from the Etro S/S21 show?  Like, you know that Christian idea of God, like, (the voice in my head is very much taking on the dumb valley girl voice that anybody who reads this is most probably getting too) knowing our souls? I think Veronica Etro knows mine. So no, no surprise. Though there were a few unconventional touches thrown into these looks (the campier prints and nautical theming we see with the 80s beach towel print, for example, reminded me a bit of Versace) the mystical bohemian it girl that Etro designs for would still be highly satisfied. Sure, it might be a wardrobe fit for a holiday less adventurous than backpacking but if she wanted a tropical poolside holiday, this collection is the one, the paisley print chiffon mini and maxi dresses especially. I’m just gonna pretend I don’t see the monstrosity that is leggings worn as trousers-it’s a fashion rule I refuse to abandon-because they are the only stain on an otherwise expectedly gorgeous collection.

Next, an unusually reserved RTW collection from Fendi:

More in line with the wardrobe of a European fashion editor than the glamorous trophy wife (who let’s say uses that facade as a guise to ruthlessly run her husband’s whole business empire from behind the scenes because in this house we do complex female characters only), these pieces are lot “smarter” and more professional looking than Fendi’s typical offerings; where I feel Fendi usually designs for the society girl who wouldn’t mind a front page scandal, these are the kind of outfits a young member of Monaco’s royal family would wear for a positively received but business-as-usual press tour. I know, Fendi is an Italian brand, but this is more Southern France to me. We’re talking some 2nd page shots of a Kate Middleton type on a yacht on the Riviera smiling and waving as her PR team’s ideal scenario. Still, whilst fewer exaggerated silhouettes, animal prints and overtly luxurious fabrics (real leathers, silks and furs for example) mean that the drama’s a little toned down, it’s all still very expensive looking and combines the classically feminine glamour of the past and the minimalism of modernity in the artful manner that we’re used to. Maybe it’s me being a basic bitch but I always love seeing Ashley Graham on the runway too, even if brands to tend to use her as their single token plus size model.

Kim Jones’ debut haute couture collection for Fendi, however, wasn’t a very well received one. I don’t hate it personally but I can see where the criticisms are coming from. Whilst it’s closer to the version of Fendi I’ve come to expect and there were some stunning pieces which completely encapsulated that distinctive aura of luxe and glamour, there were quite a few lazy pieces which could’ve been from any designer. I also felt the collection was a bit upstaged by what seemed to be a who’s who of the modelling world; having Bella, Cara, Kate and Naomi ALL walk in one show was a bit distracting and took the focus off the clothes completely.

Giambattista Valli’s RTW collection was gorgeous as ever; the man has undeniably mastered the art of delivering classic, objective elegance, the kind of designs I feel would make you light on your feet and smell like strawberries and cream the minute you put one on. Whilst as a brand his RTW shows are rarely trendsetting, they reliably produce a plethora of unfailingly graceful and demure pieces, as appealing to your mum and your grandma as they are to young women and little girls, and this collection is another victory lap for Valli when it comes to upholding his signature tea party and artisan cupcake making and rose garden strolling and bottomless rosé brunch appropriate aesthetic. There were a lot of outfits that were bordering on overly juvenile, with structures a little too basic to justify the amount of sequins thrown on, but when it’s good, it’s so sweet that regardless of how to formula it is, I can’t help but fall in love.

Valli’s haute couture collection was stunning too and for sure a more exciting offering than the RTW. There was of course a lot of the signature tulle but it was head-turning, over the top in a way that leant far more towards the experimental than I expected. The photos themselves are 100% believable as a some kind of Vogue behind the scenes editorial shoot on the set of live action Disney princess movie (in between takes of the climactic ball scene if you wanna get specific with the vision); if you are looking for a prettier alternative to the primary colours and disruptive shapes of a Molly Goddard collection, this is the one. It’s giving the themes of excess and abundance I associate with that of the Hunger Games Capitol but through the softer lens of a Sofia Coppola movie, and being the typical cinema loving white girl I am, I’m obviously on board with that vibe.

I did SUCH a 180 on Givency’s S/S21 collection from when I first saw it to writing a review. My initial reaction was one of disappointment, I guess simply because Givenchy has given us so many bold pieces and presentations over the last few years whereas this is more low-key. After properly considering it though as I would any other brand, I came to the conclusion that I do actually really like it. It’s still got the strange, androgynous silhouettes popping up throughout and the futuristic space-age details but with a more down-to-earth, streetwear feel, albeit a very slick, glossy spin on the trends of the rabble (that’s us guys) of course before we go believing it’s achievable. On the one hand, the devil horn accents are a touch Claire’s accessories halloween range but at the same time, done with confidence they’re kind of cool and bring something new and fun to the table in line with the dark theatre of Givenchy’s last few shows.

Now for Gucci, which for the first time I have to say, if I'm attempting objectivity, is not a standout. 

Like, can I just start by saying though the format it’s presented in is cute, it’s not ideal as a way of actually showing the collection. I get that the vintage shop bin vibe is a huge part of Gucci’s brand but polaroids make it SO hard to actually see the clothes, and that’s what we’re here for right? I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t like what I see here-the clothes are gorgeous, an idyllic ode to the off-duty wardrobes of Studio 54-ers, bohemian style icons like Charlotte Rampling and young Olivia Newton-John, psychedelic rock guitarists and the inhabitants of San Fransisco’s Haight during the late 60s and early 70s, Alessandro Michele’s favourite period of reference. I can’t pretend otherwise, or act like I wouldn’t want to wear the shit out of this collection. Buut, for Gucci? It’s a little underwhelming. These are the kind of filler looks we get in a typical Gucci show to go alongside the more statement pieces, which this collection is lacking. It’s just that these are designs which usually gets people talking and these pieces don’t do that. It sucks because for most other brands this would be a stand out collection, an immersive, luscious vignette of what people tend to think of as a cultural golden era, but when you’ve had a show that involved models carrying replicas of their own decapitated heads down the runway in the last 5 years, of course something more toned down like this is gonna generate a lot of “is that it?”s.

I owe Hermes an apology. Looking back, I have disliked all their previous collections for the same reason that I now really like this one; maybe it’s in part down to the frustration of still having to whack out the winter coat on occasion in May (fuck British weather and climate change), but suddenly I really appreciate the value of some good quality, versatile outerwear. Hermes is giving us that in spades here and for that, I bow down to them. The pieces on offer are clearly well-made and genuinely practical, and through the minimalist approach manage to retain both an air of timeless sophistication whilst also being youthful and on trend. The leather tactical vest co-ord I can easily see edged up and taking centre stage on one of those insane Seoul street style slow-mo TikToks that were big a couple of months ago and there are several pieces that could tie together a grunge influenced k-style look just as well as they could exist for years on end as the wardrobe staple of a high-powered businesswoman. Designer Nadège Vanhee-Cybulski’s strengths really come through with the simpler looks and it’s the patterned pieces that drag down an otherwise flawless collection; I guess because the aesthetic is very minimalist, the patterns can’t be anything overly decorative but unfortunately this has a bit of a dowdy effect when you pair it with such modest silhouettes. Disregarding those elements of the collection though, it was super good.

It goes without saying that Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture collection was breathtaking; if the fashion community can agree on anything, it’s that this woman’s work is consistently awe-inspiring. She captures the wonder of the universe, the biological structures and kaleidoscopic colours we don’t even register, through fashion in a way that others can only imitate, to mesmerising, truly transcendent effect; I can only assume Van Herpen has mother nature whispering into her ear because how the hell else do you explain her ability to take the kind of microscopic organisms they show you images of in an outdated GCSE science powerpoint and make a dress that resembles one so stunning? Care to explain, Iris? Because if there is some kind of line of communication between the two of you can you please tell the bitch I’m over this weather and that I have cute summer outfits I’m waiting to wear so can she pack this torrential rain shit in? K, thanks xoxo

See it seems shady as fuck to go from IVH to Isabel Marant like this because we are talking 2 designers with totallyyyy different approaches to fashion; Iris Van Herpen is haute couture for starters whereas Marant is commercial, and that’s her thing, but unfair comparisons aside this collection is still a bit of a let down. This is considering I do usually really like Isabel Marant collections based on whether or not I’d wear the pieces, which seems a more appropriate barometer to use to come to a quality verdict. Whilst there were a few of the elegant bohemian pieces my mind goes to when it comes to her brand, the steps outside of that comfort zone didn’t pay off; graffiti print (can be cool if done with some subtlety which apart from a few exceptions was not the case here), cheap looking reflective fabric, and MC Hammer style dungarees, it seems to be an attempt to merge 80s trends with modern urban culture, and an attempt that at times verged on the disastrous. It’s good for a brand to experiment, of course, and appeal to a wider client base than usual, but when it’s bad the unfortunate take away is that the design team don’t have the chops to pull off straying from familiar territory; designers wouldn’t be showing at fashion week if this was truly the case because disregarding the influence of nepotism, fashion is an area you need real talent, perseverance and business smarts to excel in, and so it doesn’t do a team justice when they do fail.

J.W Anderson, on the other hand, really put his best foot forward this season and presented this work in a really cool way too which only added to the positives; whilst the way the shots were edited was funky af, it didn’t detract from the actual outfits, and if we are to see the same limitations when it comes to the F/W collections being released, this is something a lot of designers and editing teams should take note of. The idiosyncratic exaggerated shapes that we see as a recurring feature of Anderon’s collections were still on show but this time round with added femininity, billowing skirts and trailing jewellery that channel the stage looks of Stevie Nicks in a way that’s modern and functional and maybe even fit for the office if you were to work in a more creative industry with a chill boss. Could also work for a coven of witches who practice meditation by bonfires in the moonlight and burn the letters of men who wronged them in some Arizonian desert, so like I said, functional! Who doesn’t like versatility? The only thing I’m not too keen on is the shoes but they’re not so bad that it affects my opinion of the collection and they look comfy I guess.

Lastly, we’ve got to talk about Jacquemus, one of the most influential names in fashion at the moment. And yes, this time round, I’m doing it: I’m buying into the hype.

This collection is gorgeousss! I can see already that a lot of the recurring elements of the show are going to be big summer trends for this year (the cut outs and strappy details on the blouses are everywhere already) even though it isn’t hot enough to have collectively decided the time to start dressing for heat is upon us yet, and that’s always a good indicator of how successful the designer was in their vision and attempts to assess the needs and wants of fashion enthusiasts; whether I’m as big a fan of his work as everyone else seems to be, there’s no denying Simon Porte Jacquemus has always excelled at this practice if the buzz around him is anything to go by. It makes sense given the last year of us all being stuck in and suppressed that a lot of us are already romanticising the summer ahead, anticipating picnics and beach days and general Theresa May running through wheat fields type shenanigans galore, in spite of how dubious an assumption it is to make that British weather will allow for this; Porte Jacquemus has very much catered to this wishful thinking and the popularity of the whole escapist “cottage core” aesthetic, sexing it up a little bit with pieces that hug the body in ways only Mugler knows how whilst being lightweight and relaxed enough to look good with windswept, sandy hair and a little dose of sunburn. I’m talking enough to give you some cutesy freckles and rosy cheeks not PSA on the importance of suncream territory, guys, what is it with those of us on the gen Z/millennial cusp not taking sun damage seriously!? Why do I have to beg so many of my friends to wear it!? Does nobody else remember those photos they’d show you in PSHE in English primary schools of burnt people’s skin under UV lights? Or is that just me being weird and only having such a vivid memory of the images because teachers told us we had to wait until year 6 to see them due they to their “graphic” nature only for my gore-loving self to be extremely underwhelmed when we finally did get that lesson? They showed us a woman giving birth in year 4 for fuck’s sake. THAT was traumatising.

Back to the actual point anyway, with just a couple of negatives, the first of which being that the pieces are very similar to those feminine looks we saw dotted about the Jacquemus menswear collection from last year that were all over fashion Twitter. In Simon Porte Jacquemus’ defence though, it makes sense that those tones and silhouettes would be revisited in a full womenswear collection for that very reason; considering they went down so well and that lockdown gave us a bit of a half-baked summer in 2020, expanding on those elements enough for a whole new collection makes good business sense. We did get some cool additions too, mainly in the form of accessories, with the hardware details on the belts similar to those included in the Givenchy collection and the abstract hair slides being standouts for me. It was all exquisite-the shoes, the jewellery, the styling, everything 10/10. My other nitpick, and I say nitpick not because it’s not important but because it’s an issue that’s hardly restricted to Jacquemus (this casting team are far from the worst offenders, Saint Laurent I’m looking at you), is that I WISH we’d see more diversity with the models. Despite what my body dysmorphia yells at me, I am small, and yet seeing all those fucking minuscule waists made me die a little inside; it’s crazy to me that in 2020 the lack of variety in body types on the runway is still such a problem.

I must have said this a million times but I don’t want to end on a negative note so let me reiterate: this collection was STUN. NING. Plus there were some others I’ve talked about in this post that I’m sure will make it into my top 20 in the final part, Jacquemus, Dion Lee and Etro for sure; we even got some gorgeous pieces from Maria Grazia which I thought was a sentence I’d never type out. Have I said enough to not leave a bad taste in the mouth of anyone who read to the end of this post? I hope so, lol! TBH, it’s impressive given everything that’s going on that the majority of designers did roll out collections in September as usual so serious respect to them and their design teams for that.

In the next post, I’ll fingers crossed be able to include everything from Kim Shui (exciting!) through to at least Off-White (actually pretty good this time?!) and make this whole thing a 4 parter before getting straight on top of the photo posts I’m thinking about doing for the time being for the F/W21 shows. So as usual, if you did read to the end thank you so much and I respect the perseverance you must have to get through all my rambling, lmao. Hope everyone is well and coping okay and again, my inbox is always open for any post suggestions, constructive criticism, or just a chat for anyone who needs a listening ear.

Big love and thank you again!

Lauren x

[crazy-loca-blog]

Personal thoughts on Open Heart Second Year, Chapter 18

Note: As the title says, these are just personal opinions on Choices books and chapters. Of course, you may agree or disagree with them, I only use this platform to express my thoughts on what I read every week and what I’d like to see in the next chapters, because none of my friends play Choices so I have no one to comment the books with.

Last week I was so, so overwhelmed (in a good way) for everything that happened at that gala that I couldn’t even begin to write a post. My head was a mess! I had so much information on my mind that it was impossible for me to get one nice paragraph. Luckily, this means this week I have so much to say! So get ready, because this post is a long one!

First of all, let me tell you that after what happened this week, I’m betting for a 20 chapter book. It’s the only way I can see them making a proper closure to the story (with chapter 19 focused on saving Leland Bloom’s wife AND Edenbrook, and chapter 20 focused on fixing our own mess with our LIs).

I have mixed emotions on this chapter. At first, I absolutely loved it. It gave me such a rollercoaster of emotions that I just couldn’t help loving it. I went from being surprised to see Aurora back, to laughing with Zaid and Baz treating a patient together, to almost crying with the night out scene. I was really hyped! But then I replayed the chapter and I began to notice all those small details that you don’t notice when you first read it, and yeah, I have to agree with a lot of people who are as invested in this series as I am: something is not adding up after the rewrites.

As a person who’s romancing Ethan, Chapter 17 was a HUGE step in the relationship with the MC. The guy finally got rid of all his morals and his visions of what’s ethically correct dismantled the diagnostics team (aka “he’s not our boss anymore”) and decided to make things public with the MC (not “official”, but “public”). Now that I look at that moment in retrospective, I might understand the scene made sense so that the writers could finally level the field with people who are romancing Rafael, Jackie and Bryce. But this is when the first problem arises: the relationship with Rafael, Jackie or Bryce has never been public either. Sure, there has been some PDA between them and the MC throughout the whole series, but it’s not like our friends can say “oh, they’re a thing”, it’s not something evident. Why didn’t they use the gala for that? I simply don’t get it! They didn’t need to be “official”, just “public”. It was so easy, and I think it would have made things easier for the rest of the book.

And then we have this time jump… which now I’m beginning to realize it wasn’t as huge as we originally thought! Sure, we skipped Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year, and we went from winter to spring in, literally, one screenshot. So it may seem it’s been a long, long time since the gala… BUT… the book has been settled on winter since forever now (there was already snow in Chapter 13 when we returned to work!), so even though we know it’s been over a month since the gala (because, and here I quote Ethan Ramsey, “this will actually stretch our budget for much longer than we expected”), it’s not like we’ve been on that limbo for a really, really loooong time!

Of course, this doesn’t justify the fact that the relationships with the LIs were affected by this time gap. And this is where I think the writers made a huge mistake. I actually said something about it already, but the fact that we’re not staying in Boston to continue our residency (even though we know in the end we’ll stay) may be the thing that it’s delaying the fact that we’re not official with our LIs. Again, Rafael is staying in Boston… after the Panacea scandal, Jackie will go wherever she’s accepted… Bryce was looking at a hospital in Chicago… and the more I replay the chapter, the more I think Ethan is overworking to avoid thinking about his own future (yup, he is a mess and he’s delaying the inevitable… as usual). But this doesn’t mean we don’t want to know what’s going on with our relationship… like… long distance? breaking up? enjoying it while it lasts? Chapter 18 was the right moment to have “the talk” (there were at least two moments in the chapter that would have worked perfectly: those free individual scenes that we had with our LIs… or during the night out, after Ethan joined the gang at the helipad) and it didn’t happen… and yes, it’s disappointing and frustrating. They missed a HUGE opportunity.

Despite all this, this chapter gave us a bunch of good scenes:

1. The hospital scenes. This was a brief moment, but it was simply beautiful. In Chapter 17, we realized that “everything was about the mission” and that seemed to be a breaking point for everyone at Edenbrook. Seeing all of them working as the huge team they are, everyone overworking and helping each other just to help as many people as possible gave me all those community vibes that we constantly hear about in this series. I definitely need more of this in Book 3. The fact that they also connected all this madness with the closure of our interns plots was a nice detail. Can you believe that Gary Garrison was definitely the “last man standing”? Also, did you notice that Sothy and Elijah’s plot changes depending on the choices you made in past chapters? And I want to think that Sienna and Mitch finally talking about what happened will give her the peace of mind she needs and deserves.

2. Bryce’s diamond scene. I had so much fun with the Lahelas in Book 2. I love these two… I just can’t stop making puppy eyes every time we have a chance to witness such a wonderful relationship between these siblings. And Keiki leaving to boarding school was the happy ending they deserved. I’m so glad to see that there won’t be a new drama for them and that their parents agreed to send Keiki to boarding school. I loved to see how much Bryce grew in Book 2 (you know that I’ve always loved him, but now I came to consider him a “national treasure” type of guy) and how he really made his biggest effort to become the best version of himself we’ve seen so far. I’m so proud of him that it hurts!

3. Esme’s plot. It was nice to see that the relationship with her actually changes based on our choices. It still bothers me that we won’t know if she did it on purpose or not (I really hope we get to know the truth by the end of the book), but I felt proud of defending her after seeing how she seemed to be the only one who actually cared about Levi in that negotiation between his parents and the board, where everything was about “how much is Levi worth”. And I have to say that I fully agree with what Esme tells us if we don’t defend her… let’s be honest, the main reason why we got away with all Mrs. Martinez stuff was because PB was already planning a Book 2 of what Ethan did for us at the hearing.

4. The night out with our friends. We asked for it for a really, really long time. Book 2 was so focused on the hospital stuff that we missed those moments with our friends. It was so different from Vegas! It was intimate, it was emotional, there was this much needed bonding between the gang… there was a heart to heart that was long overdue! It was definitely a proper temporary goodbye to them. Besides what I mentioned before about “the talk”, I don’t think I would’ve changed anything about this scene.

By now, the final chapters of the book seem pretty obvious. I mean… Leland Bloom is a BILLIONAIRE and he loves to negotiate. Will he save Edenbrook if we save his wife? Absolutely, there is no question! We know the man is an ass****, but we also know how much he ADORES his wife and how genuine their marriage is (it’s 100% true love). She is also a caring woman, so I definitely don’t want to see her die. But how will they approach it? And here is where I want to see something HUGE happening (fingers crossed!). We know that the diagnostics team has been reduced to three people: the MC, Baz, and Ethan. BUT, at the same time, we have a full staff of people available to help (in the words of Ethan, “The other departments have taken the diagnostics team’s lead”... which leads to an inconsistency because the team is supposedly dismantled). So not only I see our team solving the case, but also everyone at the hospital involved on it. I can see Caroline Bloom taken by the paramedics to be admitted to Edenbrook, the nurses taking care of her, our friends helping to solve the case as part of the diagnostics team, Bryce, Harper and Tanaka performing some surgery, Kyra working on the paperwork… I’d love to see that, in the end, saving Edenbrook was a group effort and not only something like “the diagnostics team saved the hospital from closing”. That would be so, so nice to see and it would give every single character in this book the recognition they deserve!

[duskandstarlight]

Hi!

I know you are really busy, but if you ever have time, I would love if you shared details about your writing process. Sometimes you mention you've had things written for awhile and that makes me wonder how you do your magic. ;)

Hi! Sure thing :)

So I usually write E&L chapter by chapter, but sometimes scenes shift around which is why they have usually been written for a while (eg smut for Chapter 39 being pushed back and rearranged). I also get visions of what will definitely happen in a fic. If it grips me and I can’t stop thinking about it I usually just start typing it out in case it leaves me. Eg) Chapter 30 smut, the gift giving, Amren and Nesta forgiving one another. Then I fit it in whenever the story calls for it, if that makes sense?!

If I have writer’s block on a chapter, that’s when I usually write a POV or I write an entirely different scene that comes later on that’s super definitive or excites me in some way. I often split a chapter into ‘parts’ and flit between those parts depending on my mood! So, I wrote the training scene with Maya and the girls in E&L in the last chapter last, weaving in the plot whenever my brain had the capacity to figure it out. The Heroicis excerpt came last (and was a pain in the ass to write!)

I often write a paragraph which is full of _____ and turn it into a comment where I add awful notes like EMBELLISH, FILL, SOMETHING TO DO WITH NESTA AND THE CAULDRON/TOMAS/WANTING CASSIAN, hahaha. If you guys saw my drafted chapters you would recoil and be like WTF! @jeakat knows what I’m talking about because she’s had the misfortune of reading my drafts for the Habits universe.

So... that’s a mishmash of my mind and writing process. I’m sorry if none of this made any sense but message me any time if you want to chat about it in more depth :) I’m always looking for tips from other writer’s, too :)  

[beskarberry]

FUCKING SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN'T READ CHAPTER 6!!!!

@mrsparknuts​ have been fuggin dying to get to that ceremony from, like, chapter two! I really think that Din hold-my-baby-while-i-sacrifice-myself-for-total-strangers Djarin has RIDE OR DIE written on the inside of his helmet thanks to his creed, and if the person he loves finds him dishonorable then he’s not worthy of the breath in his lungs.

A normal Riduurok probably never goes quite that emotionally, two or more Mandos would enter the binding already knowing what would happen if they decided not to engage, so unless one of them was more full of devotion than the other, the ceremony would go off without a hitch. However, if one of them was being forceful or demanding that they engage, then the other one has the opportunity to literally cut their losses.

I wanted Reader to challenge that, since she’s not Mandalorian and has no goddamn clue what their traditional practices are outside of hiding their faces, on top of the premonitions that she had while in hyperspace, the ceremony made for a very touchy moment. Reader has a lot of intrusive thoughts, on top of the anxiety of the situation that she’s put herself in, and it all bubbles over into stress-induced nightmares. In her mind its like: I’ve already seen this, this has to be a lie, he wouldn’t really want to die for me? He wouldn’t let me kill him just because I wouldn’t want him?

But he would, and he almost does in canon multiple times just to protect people who he thinks deserve to be protected over him, the foundling most of all; and I think that stems back to the combination of his heritage and the fact that he’s just a very good man. Does he fuck up? All the time. Does that make him less of a good man? No, it makes him human. The one thing that being a Mandalorian can’t guarantee is humanity. Nobody has any idea what’s under all that armor, could be anything, could be a gungan, or a wookie, who knows?

What Reader does know that Din loves her, long before either of them put it into Basic, but she doesn’t know that she knows, which is what lead to her visions. Her subconscious knows from their first hunt together is that his primary concern is if she and the child are safe, that protecting them is his number one priority. He could have easily left her for dead on those dunes, taken the credits and moved on, but he didn’t. He and the child patched her up and he stayed with her through the night to make sure she was comfortable. A hunters life is fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

She knows that he loves her music, whether or not its sung well doesn’t matter, just that it’s sung at all, because every time she breaks into her rip-roaring starsongs its for his child. He asks to hear them again because to him that’s what love sounds like. He comes back to the fireside to hear them again because he wants to hear the sound of love.

She knows in her heart that he doesn’t want her to go, but that’s what their mission is, to get to The End. She can’t bog him down, he’s got the foundling to take care of and his own life to get back to, canon or no canon, but he insists that that is their foundling, not just his. She breaks her own heart over this, and if she had just been open with him about her puffy, tear-welted face in the flight deck then she could have avoided a good deal of extra heartache. He would have told her exactly what she already knew, what her visions already knew.

However, both of them are bad about talking about their fee-fees, he’s very stoic, talks mostly with his hands and shoulders rather than actual words, and she’s a no-bullshit hunters-don’t-cry type of badass. This was a fantastic dynamic to explore, these two hard exterior, soft gooey interior hunters that bond over their love of the child and the love of the hunt, until that love melts together into a love for each other.

The krayt’s teeth were an interesting token of affection that I came up with, I see a lot of fics that I adore where Din is the one that gives the first gift. And I love those! They’re very sweet, but as the writer, and as a big bullheaded woman that loves her husband, I wanted it to go the other way for a change. Give boys gifts! Give boys pretty things that are probably expensive and not really for anything but still nice to have, things to treasure. Tell boys they’re beautiful, and that they deserve to have and enjoy beautiful things. To Reader, the gift of the opalized fossils was a way of saying “You fucked up, but I forgive you, and I think you should have these so you know every time you see them, that I forgive you and appreciate you. And I love you...

Meanwhile, behind the beskar Din’s losing his motherfucking mind. There’s NO WAY that she did what she just did on PURPOSE?! Can’t be... She wants me?! to mARRY HER?! He’s sworn to her side as her protector from day one, but that doesn’t mean she’s sworn back to him, or that either of them are actually ‘married’, just protected. But now he has TANGIBLE EVIDENCE THAT SHE LIKES HIM BACK! LIKE LIKES... LIKE LIKE LIKES! He wanted to explode right then and there, but what if he scared her away? What if that was too much commitment for a pair of literal strangers? So he held his composure, tucked her into bed, and tried not to fucking die.

He wanted to speak with the alor before talking to Karga, mostly to reinforce what he already knew and make preparations for the riduurok. Also I wanted there to be a ceremony with an officiant and some kind of Mandalorian ritual creed bs something or other. Reader is going to leave. Their contract is almost up, and like hell he’s going to let her go. So in his typical, ride-or-die way, he asked for her hand in exchange for his life, to give himself so fully in a way that medin’uir never could.

In the end it all came down to a little trio that loves each other very much, and I wanted Grogu to be a part of that since he’s the pretty green bow that ties their small family so nicely together. I wanted him to get what he didn’t get to have in S2, I wanted him to have his father promise to never let him go, to never let Reader go. To promise that they would be a pack til the end of their days, a clan of three.

And I really wanted to make my hubbyboo cry because he’s a pretty crier and he’s very beautiful and really and truly inspires a huge fucking chunk of my writing and I love him very much. Super fun fact! Everything after chapter one is written the way it is because it’s specifically written to be read aloud! Yep, you read that right! Five chapters of self-insert smut fic has been READ ALOUD IN THIS HOUSE BY MY HUSBAND, SEXY BITS AND ALL.

So when his sweet, gentle voice fucking cracked on the last paragraphs?? You can’t buy that.

[bumblebeetlejuice]

IDK HOW TO USE THE READ MORE BREAK ON MOBILE SORRY

Beetlelands human/college au

slight nsfw

“Don’t say shit!” The unholy screech echoed through the library, disturbing the other students there.

Adam was standing over his partners, hands raised in a nonthreatening gesture. Barbra couldn’t help snickering, but she didn’t turn away from the monitor. Beetlejuice, on the other hand was full on glaring. The open word document on his computer was still impressively blank.

“If you say a single goddamn told you so, I’m going to crush your sexy twink throat with my thighs!”

“Alright! Alright! I came to support you not to antagonize you!” Adam reminded as lovingly as he could. Quickly he pressed a kiss to Beetlejuice’s forehead before he could be swatted at.

“Shut the fuck up.” He dramatically spun back to the screen.

Even though Beetlejuice put on an expression of indifference, it was true. He had practically begged Adam and Barbra to spend the night in the library with him. Out of his five classes there was only one he wasn’t failing and that was World History. Beetlejuice had somehow maintained a solid seventy all semester which meant this last essay was the only thing between him failing or passing.

It didn’t matter that much to Beetlejuice. Since third grade there wasn’t a single class he hadn’t had to repeat or at least take summer classes for.

But Adam and Barbra were taking American History next semester. If he passed, that meant they could all sign up for the same course.

They’d be forced to spend an entire hour with him!

And he could copy their homework!

Finally the tapping on his shoulder broke through his thoughts. Beetlejuice spun to face Barbra.

“It’s almost 7, BJ. Start on your rough draft.” Even though it was a command, Barbra made it sound like the gentlest of suggestions.

“Fiiiiine.” His eyes moved back to the screen. He could see Adam’s reflection. The brunette had settled in a chair behind them, typing something on his tablet.

Beetlejuice scrubbed a hand through his crunchy hair. Green flakes rained down in front of his vision.

What the fuck was he supposed to be writing about anyways? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to that stupid class. October had been a blur of frat parties and drug experimentation. November had been a blur of seasonal depression and long cocaine binges.

God he could really go for a hit of something right now.

Beetlejuice looked over at Barbra. She probably had some weed in her bag somewhere. Then again, she actually knew how to balance her school and party life. She was the type to get high then come to the library, not bring a joint inside.

“Beetlejuice.”

“What? I’m thinking!”

Barbra tilted her head, “Looks like you’re not thinking about the right thing.”

“I didn’t give you consent to read my mind, babe. You guys are always riding my ass about this kind of stuff so what’s with the double standard, huh?”

<!-- more -->

“Here.” Adam had stood up. He leaned over BJ to get to the mouse and keyboard.

Beetlejuice ended up with his neck sandwiched between Adam’s arms. The top of his head was brushing against Adam’s chin.

“Let’s start with the heading.”

“Mm actually Adam, while you’re at it, why don’t you type the essay and I’ll proofread it.”

“Afraid I can’t do that, love. I’m here to help, not to do it for you.”

“But you’d be helping by doing it for me-” BJ whined, “Don't put that! My name’s Beetlejuice!”

Adam corrected what he had typed, without arguing, “Okay now what’s this essay about? I can help you with the outline.”

“Good question.” Beetlejuice casually rubbed a hand over Adam's, interlacing their fingers.

“Do you have notes or anything?”

“I’ve got a few notes. I can’t hit the high ones too well anymore on account of my balls dropping.”

Adam took that as a no. He clicked open a different tab, scrolling through BJ's folio account. Eventually he found a link for the essay requirements. It was pretty tame as far as college essays went. Three hundred words over any of the topics listed below. AP format. The works cited page even counted toward the three hundred.

“Alright, so which of these topics do you know the most about?” Adam asked highlighting the list.

Beetlejuice chewed the red nail polish off his ring finger as he forced his eyes to focus on the words.

Blah, blah, blah, empire, blah, blah, blah, crusade, blah, blah, blah, civilization.

Using the hand not in his mouth, Beetlejuice poked a random topic on the screen.

“The Byzantine Empire?”

“Yup.”

“Alrighty! That was an interesting period of time, especially architecturally.”

Of course Adam knew a lot about boring history stuff. That sexy nerd was majoring in the most boring major there was: architecture.

“During thi-"

“You guys hungry? I’m starving!”

He could see Barbra raise a brow out of the corner of his eye. The two of them had already stopped to get food before they got here. Barbra had insisted, since she knew how hard it was to get things done on an empty stomach.

“Don’t give me that look, babe. You know I’m a fucking fatass.”

Her expression shifted, “You’re beautiful, sweetie.”

She pulled a dollar from her pocket, “Here. Go get something from the vending machine.”

Adam moved back as Beetlejuice snatched up the dollar.

“Hold up!” BJ grabbed his backpack and dug out a roll of masking tape.

The couple watched as he carefully taped one side of the dollar then carefully taped the other side. He’d seen it in a video once and was eager to try it.

Beetlejuice jumped up, zooming to the vending machines on the other side of the room.

If this worked he was going to clean out every vending machine on campus.

The dollar disappeared into the slot easily enough. Beetlejuice held on to the tape, waiting for the pulling to stop before he yanked the dollar back out.

B3.

A bag of m&ms edged forward before dropping into the slot.

“Fuck yeah!” Beetlejuice yelled.

At least thirteen people glared at him. That didn’t stop him from cramming the dollar back in.

Beetlejuice managed to snag two bags of m&ms and a honey bun. He was waiting for a bag of doritos to fall, when the bag stopped.

“What the fuck? Hello?” He banged on the machine once.

The chips were stuck.

Beetlejuice let his other snacks fall to the carpet. He shoved the dollar in his coat pocket before winding up and kicking the machine. The resulting sound was loud but the chips didn’t budge.

Fine. He could do this the hard way.

He took a small running start, then slammed his shoulder into the machine.

Nothing.

He backed up and did it again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Someone might have been saying his name, but they’d have to wait.

He slammed into it again.

Suddenly Adam and Barbra were standing in front of him, looking equally concerned.

“Beetlejuice!” Barbra snapped.

“Huh? What!”

“What the heck are you doing?” Adam joined in.

“Chips got stuck. Now move.”

“BJ, sweetie, don’t worry about the chips. We can get someone to open it later.”

“Yeah, look at the snacks you’ve already got.” He hadn’t seen Adam pick up them up, but there they were in his hands.

Barbra wrapped an arm around Beetlejuice’s back, steering him back to the computers, “Come on. If you break another vending machine I don’t think they’ll let you off with another warning.”

“It’s bullshit anyway. We already pay to go here! Why do we also have to pay for food and parking and stupid books we don’t even use!” He was accidentally yelling.

Barbra pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her and Adam managed to wedge him into a chair between their chairs, with a hand on each of his arms.

“We know, BB,” Adam practically purred, “You can’t keep picking fights with vending machines though. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m…” It was hard to argue when they ganged up on him with their special brand of gentle affection. Beetlejuice practically melted, “…Fine. Whatever.”

They stayed like that for a little while until Beetlejuice’s attention shifted back to the food. He dug into the honey bun while Barbra asked for critique on her own paper. It was for some literature class and wasn’t due until the next night.

From what Beetlejuice heard as she read aloud, it sounded pretty good. Adam gave suggestions on some sentence structures. Beetlejuice suggested she add stuff about reverse cowgirls.

She put on the final touches, submitted it then turned back around expectantly.

“So, BJ.”

He spit the bit of m&m wrapper he’d been chewing onto the floor, “So Barbra.”

“What time is your paper due?”

“…7AM. I got an extension because I’m stupid.”

“You are not stupid.” The couple spoke in perfect unison.

Beetlejuice waved them off dismissively. It was already 8:57… somehow.

Whatever. He still had like twenty hours.

“Now that I’m finished, we can all focus on getting your paper done!” Barbra chirped.

“Yeah!” Adam pulled BJ and himself back over to the computer, “I was going to suggest writing about the architectural aspects of course, since I could really help you there, but you’re probably not interested in that.”

Beetlejuice bit off another piece of wrapper, chewing on it thoughtfully.

“What about the fall of the empire?” Barbra suggested, “You love dissecting weak societal structures.”

That was true.

Beetlejuice nodded.

“Okay this is good.” Adam excitedly began typing, “You’ll have an intro, three paragraphs then a conclusion. Your intro can explain the inner workings of the empire…”

Beetlejuice looked back over at the vending machine. His poor chips were still in there, just waiting for someone to free them. Someone, meaning Beetlejuice. If anyone else tried to take those doritos he was going to break their fucking shins. That was a promise.

“Beetlejuice, we pulled up a few links that talk about the fall of the Byzantine empire. All you have to do is sort through the information and use it to support your topic.” Adam explained.

Beetlejuice blinked, “That doesn’t sound difficult to do at all.”

“Of course not. It’ll be fun!” Barbra smiled.

BJ moved the mouse around the screen, clicking through the links they had pulled up. So many words. So much reading. He was getting tired just thinking about reading.

One of the links was a video. Beetlejuice immediately went for that one.

“This is one of my favorite educational channels,” Barbra informed, “It’s certified as academic content and they really get right to the point.”

Beetlejuice checked the video length, “Fifteen minutes! How the fuck do you get right to the point in fifteen minutes?”

“I’m sure it’s possible.” Adam pushed a notebook and pen into BJ's hands, “I want you to write down anything interesting you hear in the video.”

Beetlejuice groaned loudly, “Can we take a break?”

He expected them to say no and call him lazy since he literally hadn’t done anything yet.

“Yup. We can take a break after the video.” Barbra said instead.

That was… fine. A fifteen minute video then a fifteen minute break. Beetlejuice gnawed on the end of his pen as the video began. Vaguely, he realized he had swallowed the wrapper piece.

Adam and Barbra took turns hitting pause whenever they noticed the scratching of pen on paper. They even made the video interesting by making jokes about people in ancient Rome.

By the time it was over, Beetlejuice had accumulated an entire page and a half of semi usable notes. His handwriting was barely legible, but if he stared long enough he’d probably figure it out.

“Break time!” The notebook and pen landed messily on the floor as he jumped to his feet, “You guys wanna make out on the staircase?”

Barbra smirked sideways at a blushing Adam, “We'd get in a lot of trouble if we got caught.”

“Who gives a shit!”

Obviously Barbra and Adam did. The goody two shoes. Even though they hadn’t admitted it, Beetlejuice knew they’d chosen to meet at the library because every time they did a dorm study night, no one could keep their hands to themselves.

Clearly they had underestimated his love for exhibitionism.

Beetlejuice pulled them both closer as he aggressively smushed a sloppy kiss to Adam’s lips. Adam only resisted a little, shoulders slumping.

“B-"

He cut Barbra off by immediately turning and connecting his lips to hers'. It always caught her off guard when he was gentle. She gasped lovely and perfectly into his mouth.

“Beetlejuice Shoggoth.” Adam snapped, pulling him from Barbra.

Apparently he had underestimated Adam’s goody two shoe-ness.

“Getting in trouble for public… inappropriateness does not look good on a permanent record!” He hissed.

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes, plucking himself down onto Barbra’s lap, “God Adam calm down. Why you gotta be so sexy.”

Barbra stroked his back while she giggled. She was still a bit dazed from the kiss, “We can have all the fun we want when we get back home.”

“Can we go now?”

Adam shook his head, “I’m setting the break time for ten minutes. That’s not really enough time to walk there and back.”

“We don’t even need to go back to someone’s room! There’s a unisex bathroom right there!”

“Absolutely not!” Adam’s face was a delicious shade of cherry red.

“Beetlejuice, darling, Adam said no.” Barbra stepped in, pressing her face into Beetlejuice’s shoulder.

“Baaaaaabs!” He whined, leaning into her.

“Don't babs me! How about you and I go for a little walk, clear your head, then we can knock out this essay?”

Beetlejuice had already forgotten about the essay. The reminder almost completely extinguished his mood.

“Yeah… okay. Adam, make sure no one steals our shit.”

Adam nodded, face still very red.

Beetlejuice stood up, clutching Barbra’s hand.

He didn’t spend a lot of time in the library. The last time he’d been there, he’d been stoned to the point that his roommate had had to give him a piggyback ride home. The time before that him and Barbra had taken a nap on the floor of the satanic cult book section. They’d been pretty hungover that day.

“Did you know there’s four floors?” Barbra asked as she led him to the staircase.

“Me and the library don’t really hang.” He mumbled back.

Barbra went on as if she hadn't heard.

“My lab partner told me that the fourth floor is haunted! Apparently there was some sort of smoke problem and a few people didn’t make it out. She said that’s why no one uses the fourth floor.”

“You know what?”

“Hm?”

“That sounds like the perfect place to make out.”

Barbra gave him an absolutely filthy grin, “Six minutes. I don’t want Adam to worry.”

Beetlejuice hurried his ascent of the stairs, eagerly pulling Barbra with him, “Six minutes is all I need!”

It was weirdly empty on the fourth floor, not that either of them was really paying attention.

They bee lined for one of the walls not lined with windows and Barbra was immediately on top of him.

They may have gotten a little carried away.

Beetlejuice blamed Barbra. She was fucking hot when she dropped the polite exterior and took what she wanted.

So fucking hot.

Really fucking hot.

Maybe too hot.

Beetlejuice stuffed his underwear in the bathroom trashcan.

He rarely went commando in a suit. The general sweatiness and chaffing made it a little uncomfortable, but today he would take it instead of the other option.

Beetlejuice rejoined Barbra at the top of the stairs. She looked a little embarrassed.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly as they descended.

“Babe. Baby girl. Babs. I would do it again in a heart beat.” He gripped her hand.

It was a lot easier to think now, he had to give her that.

Adam looked surprised to see them, when they got back to their corner. “Wow. You guys were almost on time. Ready to get back into it, Beetlejuice?” Coming from anyone else it would’ve sounded sarcastic and patronizing, but from Adam it was genuine.

“No, but let’s do it anyway!” BJ snapped with fake enthusiasm, “Byzantine empire and how it fell, huh.”

Fell.

Like the way vending machines sometimes fell and crushed people. That was one of the many Die-o-ramas from that old Crash Bandicoot game. What was the name of it? Whumpa racing? The villain was that ugly whumpa guy, but there was also that green guy with a German accent that was probably an offensive German stereotype. What was the name of that game? Beetlejuice used to play it at his cousin’s house all the time. Lydia only played it sometimes. Her skills mostly lay in backseat gaming. Was it a one player game? He definitely remembered playing it with her, but he also remembered Crash being the only playable character. That was probably in adventure mode. God that game was great. Next time he was back in his home town he’d have to play it again. What was the name of that game though?

“Nitro…? Nitro racing?”

Beetlejuice realized he’d been muttering bits of his thought process out loud. Barbra and Adam were staring at him blankly.

Fuck it.

He pulled up a search engine and attempted to spell Bandicoot.

“Should we…?”

“Let’s let him find it, or else it’ll bother him for the rest of the night.”

Adam knew him very well.

Beetlejuice spent the next few minutes typing and scrolling and retyping while Adam and Barbra did their own things on their phones.

“TAG TEAM RACING!”

There was a reason the seats around them were empty.

“What a stupid fucking name! How’d they go from Twin-sanity to Tag Team Racing?”

“The 2000’s were a simpler time.” Barbra shrugged.

“The only reason Crash died is because he jumped on top of that shit. RIP to Crash, but I’m different.”

“What?” Adam closed the tab, “Wait, no, never mind. BJ, you need to get back to your essay.”

Beetlejuice huffed. It was only…

He looked at the clock. It was already past ten.

“Holy shit! It’s almost midnight! I thought you guys were gonna fucking help me!”

“W-“

“Wait, no. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. Sometimes I lash out at others when I’m really just disappointed in myself… and by sometimes I mean always.”

“It’s okay, Bee.” Barbra rubbed his back comfortingly.

Adam picked up the abandoned notebook, “Yeah we know school's tough, but you did come to us for help. Acknowledging your problem and accepting help is the first step to improving.”

“Didn’t know this was an AA meeting.”

Adam couldn’t help but smile, “Okay. How about you type up these notes then we can start incorporating the rest of the sources into the body.”

Beetlejuice nodded. Typing in Microsoft word was baby work.

It didn’t take him long to do at all.

All he had to do now was read a bunch of stuff and type three hundred words.

“You finished the notes?” Barbra asked.

“Yeah.” Beetlejuice picked up the pen, clicking it idly.

“Alright so, what I would do is read through some articles and find parts that explain your topic. You can copy and paste them into the word document then we’ll go back in and rewrite a lot of it.” Barbra stared into his eyes as she spoke, ensuring he was listening.

“Find parts, copy and paste. Got it.”

Beetlejuice returned to the internet tabs. All of the articles had looked boring when he first flipped through them so, he picked one randomly. It was a lot of words in tiny font. He sighed, settling his chin in his non occupied hand as he began mentally scanning the page. Every time he began reading a sentence, his eyes would bounce to the bottom of the page and he’d lose his place.

“Would it be easier to read aloud?” Barbra more suggested than asked.

Beetlejuice glanced around at the steadily emptying library. If he spoke at the volume of an average person, only Adam and Barbra would hear him.

He pulled his eyes back to the screen.

“In three-thirty A.D the Byzantine empire was it’s title- dubbed it’s title by empire Con… Con- Constant? Constant. I?” He squinted at the words, “What the fuck.”

“Emperor Constatine the first.” Barbra supplied.

“Yeah. That…. He it- wait, fuck. He declared it New Rome on an Ancient…” Beetlejuice lost his place for a moment.

Refusing to submit to dragging his finger across the screen and forgetting the highlight feature of the mouse, he took a good minute to find his place.

“Ancient Greek colony.” Beetlejuice hated fucking reading. It took him so long to read that one sentence.

He blinked and scrubbed at his tired eyes.

“You’re doing great, bug!” Adam chirped, rubbing his back.

Beetlejuice wanted to call out Adam for lying, but he couldn’t. The compliment and acknowledgement of how hard he was trying, felt good.

He gave his eyes one last hard rub, before resettling in his seat.

This was going to be a long ass night, but at least he knew Barbra and Adam would be there to help him through it.

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment is All We Are (5.1/?)

This chapter is REALLY long so I split the text ver into 2 parts for Tumblr. 

AO3 link: here

----------------------

Story type: Romance/Drama/comedy

Pairing: Dazai x OC/reader (Dazai is endgame, fic is long-running and will also feature Kunikida x OC)

OC (Kusunoki Kyou) and Ability are based off of "The Story of Your Life," written by Ted Chiang, aka the basis of the Amy Adams movie "Arrival."

Rating: M for Blood/violence/themes of depression, anxiety, suicide TW: The second half of this story will deal more heavily with themes of suicide, depression/anxiety. *No major character death will occur*

Story follows OC as she joins the ADA, partners up with the detectives to solve various cases around Yokohama and develops feelings for Kunikida and Dazai (Dazai endgame).

Written for those who want an immersive ADA experience :)

Updates every Sunday evening around 6pm PST

-----------------------------

It wasn’t always like this.

Okay, maybe it was.

For as far back as I could remember, the visions had always been random, random events I would see of the future. If I was in physical contact with someone, the visions would be from their future. If I wasn’t, then the visions would be from my own life. Sometimes when I was really stressed, the visions of my future would actually come in the form of a dream, like in manga or novels.

Perhaps that was the best way to explain how The Story of Your Life worked; it was like taking out a book, keeping a finger against the pages and flipping until that finger finally caught on a single page. Then, flip open that page and read the first paragraph that jumps out; the book was the person’s life and the paragraph was the event, a single scene from that person’s future that I bore witness to.

The visions didn’t always show me death, blood and despair.

In fact, the very first vision I had was that of a puppy—a cute little thing my friend Kiko gifted me at my fifth birthday party. I must’ve seemed shockingly unsurprised (and possibly rude) to Kiko and her parents, but I couldn’t bring myself to explain that I’d seen her giving me this puppy half a year ago.

In retrospect, the puppy vision had been great. Sure, it took some of the fun out of a surprise gift but it was still a vision about a puppy. Honestly, if my visions were nothing more than glorified versions of baby animal videos, I’d be perfectly fine with that.

Maybe then, I wouldn’t be left with this overwhelming fear of my own Ability.

I used to be able to touch people, shake their hands, and hold them. In the beginning, “The Story of Your Life” only activated with a prolonged touch...

At first, “prolonged” meant more than ten seconds. That meant getting to play tag in kindergarten, going over to friends’ houses and having sleepovers. Normal stuff. My life didn’t even change all that much when ten seconds shrank to seven some time around middle school; I was able to play contact sports and go out on shopping trips without incident. Seven seconds became five halfway through high school. Again, no need to make lifestyle changes. I could still hold hands with friends, so long as it didn’t go on for too long and I was still able to have my first kiss without seeing even a hint of my boyfriend’s future.

And then, college. Five seconds was no longer doable. It became three at best and just before I’d become a shut-in, even an instantaneous touch was enough to trigger my Ability. By then, however, I’d gotten pretty used to having the visions, so I remained relatively unbothered when I’d see a vision of the barista breaking up with his girlfriend when I got my morning coffee. In other words, managing my Ability was no big deal.

Or so I thought.

About six months ago, my visions went from being an occasional distraction to a panic-inducing nightmare. I still wasn’t sure why...

Maybe it was just luck of the draw. I’d only seen good things, mostly, for the first ten-plus years at least: faraway cities, weddings, and graduations. Every once in a while there would be a failed exam or a lost wallet but overall nothing too out of the ordinary for an otherwise regular teenager to see.

Maybe it was just a sign of the times. As I got older, so did the people around me, so the more likely it was that they were entering that phase of their lives where things could start to go south. Or perhaps their previous lives were just catching up to them.

Or maybe, it was karma finally catching up to me. I’d be lying if I said that I’d never used my Ability for personal gain before. There were a few exams I managed to ace with the help of a well-timed touch of the hand and a few pitfalls I’d managed to avoid through a combination of sheer luck and a decently fast reflex. Perhaps six months ago, whatever granted me this power finally decided that I had a good run and it needed to end in the worst way possible...

And it all happened so quickly.

I never had much control over my visions to begin with and they never really bothered me before but suddenly, they were invading every part of my life—and with each vision I saw, the accuracy increased. My dreams became more vivid than ever; I would see things that had yet to occur and before I moved out, my college roommate would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of my screams. I started passing out in the middle of class if someone so much as tapped my bare shoulder and when I came to again, it would be a minute before I remembered where I was and what I was doing. I was starting to consider seeking some kind of help until one day, I finally saw my first death.

It was horrible. I was at dinner with friends on a group date and I hit it off with one of the guys. He wanted to take me to the movies that weekend, and being relatively new to college and Yokohama in general, I agreed. Then, smiling, he’d held my hand just a millisecond too long and I saw it: him getting hit by a car while crossing the street.

I tried not to think about it too hard. Sometimes the vision were wrong. There were times when they’d been off by just a fraction of a second and because of that, I still had hope. Maybe there was a chance that things could change last minute, either by a miracle or by someone’s sheer force of will. But as time passed, my anxiety grew. He was running late and I didn’t like it. Finally, I spotted him at the intersection and, frantic, I waved him down just as the “walk” sign lit up and he started crossing the street.

That’s when it happened.

A single black vehicle, no license plate, ran a red... and ran into him.

I would remember seeing his body flying into the air for the rest of the semester.

After that, I started taking an alternate route to class, just to avoid going anywhere near the part of campus where he’d died. It wasn’t that people were whispering behind my back or accusing me of having a part of it—I just couldn’t handle the memory.

That was the first death.

The first.

It was as if some kind of floodgate had been opened. I had never seen death before that day but after...? Death became all I saw. I briefly shook hands with a foreign exchange student and immediately saw an image of a middle-aged woman lying in a hospital wing. The woman had been the student’s mother and I heard she died a week later. I could not have been responsible for the cancer that claimed her life but I spent weeks feeling guilty about it anyway. There was another incident where I accidentally, and literally, bumped into my English teacher on the way to class. I saw his brother being hit by a bus downtown. His death was announced a month later, on the morning news. When I saw it, I broke down in the middle of the cafeteria and my friend Eri had to take me home.

And it just kept happening.

I became afraid to touch people. I began wearing longer layers during the summer months and started keeping to myself. When even a brush of the hand or bumping into people on public transit could trigger a vision, I started wearing gloves. I got a lot of stares on the subway for wearing itchy winter gloves in the subtropical heat and the knitted fabric made gripping the overhead handholds difficult so I ended up changing to disposable nitrile instead. I got less stares for that but unfortunately, I eventually had to give up public transit entirely when I got squished between two tourists and had a panic attack in the middle of the car.

But giving up public transportation put me in a tough spot. My dorm was pretty far from campus and I didn’t know how to drive. If I really wanted to, I could walk but that would take far too long and make for far too many chances to see another person’s death. And I really didn’t want to ask anyone for a ride because that would just mean more questions and more explanations I wasn’t willing to give.

And yet somehow, I managed to make it work for a time, waking up early to go to class, avoiding hangouts in-between classes and running back to my dorm as soon as I got a chance. But I was still attending classes with lots of people in a crowded lecture hall and living with roommates in a dormitory building. Ultimately, the stress of trying to avoid people while also trying to keep up with increasingly difficult classes caused me to start having nightmares. They were frequent and they were bad. And I knew that these were all things that would someday happen to me: me and a friend being held hostage in an abandoned apartment building, a woman in a suit and sunglasses pointing two machine guns directly at my face, a man didn’t recognize growing steadily colder in my arms as I screamed for him not to leave me...

That following morning, I woke up sobbing—crying as if I wished I was the one who had died instead. When my roommate tried to comfort me, I jerked away out of instinct and immediately realized I’d made a mistake.

And that was it.

I couldn’t it take any more.

About a week later, I left the dorm and found myself a tiny studio apartment, one that I could still afford on my shoestring budget and more importantly, one where I could live completely alone.

Soon after, I dropped out of college and became a shut-in. In true shut-in fashion, I shunned all contact from classmates and friends in case someone came to visit and decide they needed to barge in because they couldn’t—shouldn’t—do such a thing. My apartment had become both my sanctuary and my jail. So long as nothing changed around me, none of the horrible visions would come to pass.

Thankfully, a month into my new lifestyle, the nightmares stopped.

So long as nobody came near me, I wouldn’t have to witness another death with my waking eyes...

I still remembered the night I decided to stop going to class. It was the same night I looked out the windows and saw my own reflection, touched my fingers to my face and pulled them away, confirming that it was indeed blood and not salt tears that dripped down my cheeks. I started avoiding mirrors from that day on and threw myself fully into watching anime, joining fandoms and drawing commissions, anything to distract myself from the invasive, self-destructive thoughts that grew stronger whenever I looked into a reflection of my own eyes.

Yes... Staying was the only solution. If I never stepped out of the apartment again, the world would be spared the sight of my hollow eyes and bloody tears... And I—I would be spared the curse of witnessing things I should never have seen to begin with.

***

“So you’ve been holed up in your apartment for the last six months doing...”

Kunikida frowned, tapping his pen against his chin.

“What exactly? Rent in Yokohama isn’t cheap. How have you been supporting yourself?”

“Commissions,” I explained. “I started watching a lot of anime and playing video games and fans pay good money for drawings of their favorite characters, original characters or even pictures of themselves in a stylized form.”

Summing up my Ability meant practically telling these two my entire life story, not just recalling the events of this morning, and I had to commend the detectives’ patience for sitting through what I would’ve considered a pretty long-winded explanation. Now I was even telling them how I’d stretched my budget and supplemented my allowance.

I held out my hand.

“If I could have some paper and something to write with, I could show you, if you like...?”

Dazai immediately ripped Kunikida’s notebook and pen out of his hands. Ignoring his partner’s protests, he held them out to me and, throwing his arm out to keep Kunikida from taking back his own things, sat back to watch me draw. Within seconds, a coarse outline appeared on the pages, followed by facial features: eyes, nose, hair—a minute later, I handed back Kunikida’s notebook, a quick, rudimentary pen sketch of each detective on its two open pages.

As one, they leaned in to stare at it.

“This is pretty good,” Kunikida said, looking up at me. He squinted down at the page, tracing the lines with his fingers, mumbling, “Does my hair really look like that?”

“It is... isn’t it?” Dazai agreed, rubbing his chin.

As Kunikida puzzled over the drawing, a mischievous glint appeared in Dazai’s dark eyes.

“Kusunoki-san... Have you ever considered a career as a sketch artist?”

At once, Kunikida shot him a warning look.

“Don’t even think about it, Dazai,” he growled, “Making decisions without the President’s approval—”

“I’m not making a decision, only a suggestion,” Dazai declared. “And what’s wrong with a good suggestion?”

“Dazai...”

Ignoring Kunikida entirely, he turned to me.

“Really, I don’t know how we survived like this for so long. We’re a detective agency, one of the best in the city and yet, we don’t have a sketch artist... It’s a shame, don’t you agree, Kusunoki-san? What do you think? Interested in a change of career?”

“Wait... are you asking me to join you?” I asked warily, looking from one detective to the other. “Why would you want someone like me? I can’t fight. I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

“I’m asking you,” Dazai said pointedly, “if you would be interested in becoming a sketch artist. I mean, it just so happens that we are in dire need of one—(“No one said that!” Kunikida roared)—and you happen to have the exact skill set we are looking for! Not to mention you’re an Ability User... Just think of all the people you could help.”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, looking away, “Wouldn’t someone like me be more of a burden than an asset? I can’t even control my Ability, much less use it to help people—”

“But what if you could control it?”

I froze. Having had no control of my Ability for my entire life, the possibility hadn’t even occurred to me...

“There’s a way?” I asked, looking back up just as Dazai’s grin turned into a triumphant smirk. “How?”

“I could tell you,” he drawled, his smirk growing even wider, “But it’s a closely guarded secret. You’d have to join us if you want to find out... Of course, I’d be more than happy to vouch for you if you’d like to apply—”

“Dazai—!! You—!”

Kunikida was on his feet.

“We can’t just offer a job to every stray Ability User we rescue from the Port Mafia! Atsushi was one thing but—”

“Oh my, so you’d be perfectly fine sending a nice girl like her back into the jaws of the Port Mafia? Really, I thought better of you, Kunikiiiiiida-kun—”

“That’s not what I said!”

“So you agree, we should take her in?”

Kunikida’s face was in his hands.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to help, but it’s not our decision to make! And besides, she’s clearly been through enough, what makes you think she would agree to—”

“I’ll do it.”

Kunikida’s mouth dropped open. He looked stunned.

“You will—? Wait, no, I never said I agreed—”

“Let me apply,” I said, looking him firmly in the eyes. “I want to help people. I’ve always wanted to. Isn’t that what you do here at the Agency? Use your special Abilities to make their lives better?”

“That’s true,” Kunikida admitted, folding his arms over his chest, “But this can be a dangerous job. Especially for a non-combatant. You almost died today! Why do you want to help people so bad? In fact, let me ask you...”

His eyes flashed from behind his glasses, his expression fierce.

“Why did you go so far for a neighbor with whom you weren’t particularly close?”

I glared right back.

“I had to save her.”

“But it sounds like you already did, when you pulled her off the sidewalk—”

“That’s not good enough!” I burst out, startling Kunikida. “How could I say I saved her, truly saved her, if I knew she was going to die in a week and I did nothing to stop it?”

My hands clenched into fists.

“That doesn’t count. Saving someone means seeing it through to the end, to fully committing yourself and doing what’s right! Isn’t that what you did for me? What both of you did to bring me here today?”

Kunikida was struck dumb. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Dazai got to his feet.

“I think it’s about time I take Kusunoki-san back to her apartment,” he said, making his way to the door, his long tanned trench coat swishing elegantly as he moved.

He patted Kunikida on the shoulder.

“I’ll let you think about what we should tell the President later.”

Kunikida instantly flushed an angry, embarrassed pink.

“Dazai, you—”

Ignoring his partner, Dazai called out to me.

“Kusunoki-san? I won’t be taking you back to your original apartment tonight. We’ll be going to one of the Agency’s safe houses instead. After everything that’s happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Port Mafia had staked out your building and had someone ready and waiting for you at home. And if you’re wondering, Yamazaki-san is on her way to her nephew’s place in Nagano, so you won’t need to worry about her.”

“But what about my things?” I asked, “What am I gonna tell the landlord?”

“It’s already been taken care of,” Dazai replied, opening the door for me. “Shall we?”

[one-abuse-survivor]

Tired is when you're sick of life, or feel weighed down by the stuff around you. Sleepy is when you want to go to bed. That's how me and my friend do it, anyhow. At this point, I'm fucking exhausted to the point where I feel too tired to let it out but im gonna anyways. There's bits in here that I can't tell my friend, or anyone, so i'm hoping bc this is anonymous i can let it out. Right, intro done lol. Onto the story. Last night, i have no idea what time, maybe five or six, (all i know is this

thing ended at 7pm), my mom storms out of the room and comes back holding a bottle of water and her bag. She proceeds to tell my dad she found the bottle at the bottom of my bed, (basically im not supposed to have anything at the bottom of my bead bc asian tradition believes that youre on top of it and thats dirty or whatever). Then she pulls out my school photo, puts it on the table and tells my dad to look at it. Starts ranting about how I never listen, i look horrible, worst photo i've ever taken. 

Basically, I go to a private school, and they think I should look good, and then they spent some time lecturing me about how i was supposed to look right when i was in the school, I look like a boy, i act like a boy, my hair's a mop, I look like a hooligan. Start talking about when i dress to go to school, how my shoes aren't polished and one of them has laces that show the white inner. How my hair's messy at the back, if i saw someone in jeans and someone in a suit in the street, who would i think was respectful? They told me they shouldn't have let me into the school, they loved me too much, that's why, they should have let me go to this public school that has a reputation for being a mess, that i belong there, waste of money, they regret letting me go here, thought i was a respectable girl. 

Dad asked me again, who wouldd i think was respectful, the jeans or the suit, and I told him I don't know. We'll get to that later, but at that moment he sneered and snorted and looked at my mom. 'says she doesnt know' he jeers. I'd meant it as in 'i have no idea, please help me'. He took it as 'she doesn't know, and doesn't give a fuck'. I don't know how to look proper. they never taught me. they tell me that something looks good so i wear it. mom still buys my clothes for me. I have no fucking clue what looks proper and what doesn't. 

Anyways, somehow they moved onto uni, and my current work, and how I pull all-nighters and how dad thought i was smart but nopw he has no hope, how he sees me get up in the morning and know i'm going to fail the assessment, how i get distracted, how i take too long to shower, how i never learn, how i never help them around the house, they do everything for me and if he was in my shoes then he would work until 'smoke came out' (vietnamese saying), how he would be so grateful but i'm not and they're going to leave me (which is a normal threat for them lol) and how they're going to die (another normal threat, dad has a lifelong illness and mom has been struggling with leukaemia for years) and they're not going to pay for uni if i get a stupid degree, only if i get a good degree like they want which will actually help me (law), if i want to become an engineer (something im considering) then i can pay for it myself, then again it's not like i'm even going to get into uni, when they look at me, they have to think of the girl i was when i was five because if they think about me now they feel sad, they won't look at me because I make them sad, they had so much hope for me, now down the drain, no, down to the sewers, look at my cousins going out, one of them had piercings and infections and almost got tattoos and is a nurse in a prison with a husband who stressed her out so much she passed out at work, do i want that, that's what i will get if i dont work, basd job, assisstants have to buy pads for their bosses, horrible child, this will end one of two ways, one i listen to them and come back years later to thank them or i'll look up at the stars and wish that i'd listened to them and they regret having me and caring for me, if only they'd been better parents, they'd been too lenient, but i don't care do i because if i cared it'd show in my working to please them and i haven't done that so that means i don;t care about them.

Dad told me it was too late to change, then switches to tell me it's not too late, they ramble on about my internet use, (i have to ask them for internet) and i'm not acutlalyu doping work on it, i'm just fucking around, they kjnow, they know, i can lie all i want nbut it's true. Horrible child, they'll die, they'll die, That's the end of the conversation, we're not going to talk about it anymore. No, stop talking. I'm going to tell you this until i die. I'm going to keep saying it, beccause it's better that i say it and you not listen than i dont say it and regret not saying it. (okay, i can;t currently remember anything else of what they said lol.). By the way, you wanna know abt

[asks didn’t arrive and I asked for the last bit again]

ok lets hope to god this sends then. i think i know where i was up to - 'do you want to know about what was wrong with the photo' i think was meant to be that. anyways, yeah. guess what was wrong with it. i had a fucking splinge. like my hair was parted and a bit of the part was split. that's all i can see that's wrong with it. maybe my hair looked oily? idk but that's all i noticed. also said something after that about do u remember when dad asked me abt who did i think looked better the suit.

also can i add something i just remembered which is that one of them put folders on my shelf and mom told me she knew i put them there to hide what i was looking at on my laptop from her when i??? didnt??? put them??? there??? in the first place???? (the layout of my room allows the folders to block the view of someone from the door basically) i put new folders there after i think my dad put them there but i didnt originally put them there??? sorry it was a full ask rant and i have no idea what the freak i typed and what i didnt lol. but u get the gist i think. big fat lecture.

i am tired. my eyes were puffy and there was like this pool of snot floating on top of this pool of tears if you did get the ask sorry u had to read that twice. :(. i mean even tho u didnt see it i was able to let it all out. not sure if it made me feel better about anything but being able to do it at all is rlly nice. Thank you for that.

-----

No wonder you’re tired, nonnie... I’m really glad you could get all of this off your chest, and really sorry that you have to hear those awful things about yourself coming from your parents.

I’m a white European, so I don’t share many of your experiences and I don’t know how it is to live in a Vietnamese family, but I hope it’s okay to compare it a little bit with my experiences in my (very Christian) family--if not, you can absolutely skip the next paragraph! 

I have had a bunch of conversations with my therapist about traditions, religion, and misogyny, because since I cut my mother off, my grandfather has lectured me many times about how I am a bad daughter for looking out for myself and putting my life first instead of being devoted to my mother’s wants and needs. He told me that she’s sick and I’m horrible for not caring about that and abandoning her, and that if she doesn’t love me, I just have to work harder until I "crack her walls”. (As if I haven’t tried already, and as if she didn’t use her very mental illness as an excuse to abuse me). My therapist basically told me that sometimes, being the Disney villain in some people’s stories means you’re doing something right, because their vision of what’s right and what’s wrong (especially when it comes to daughters and women in general) is designed to hurt you, to make you put your family before yourself. That it’s never wrong to put yourself and your needs first, and that kids don’t owe their parents anything just because the parents brought them into this world--that was the parents’ choice, not the kid’s, and therefore it’s the parents’ responsibility to care for their kid, whoever that kid turns out to be; and not the kid’s responsibility to be the model child that the parents had in mind or to care for them.

Your parents belittling you for things you have little to no control over and accusing you of being responsible for their future deaths, for not knowing things that haven’t been explained to you, for not living up to their expectations without even giving you a chance to try, and for not “working for them as hard as they would in your place”, are all red flags of emotional abuse. Accusing you of things you don’t do and constantly drilling into your mind that they “know” you’re a horrible person who doesn’t want to learn or change is a red flag too, and probably an excuse to take the guilt off their shoulders for not taking the time to guide you in life and to explain anything to you before accusing you of not knowing it already. “It’s too late” puts the blame on you, but what it actually means is probably something along the lines of “It’s easier to scream at you than to put realistic expectations on you and then help you achieve them while respecting your boundaries and allowing you to make mistakes, but I don’t want to feel guilty about it, so let’s pretend you’re a lost cause, yeah?”

I used to go to a private school too, and my mother repeatedly told me that was the reason she struggled economically and that I had ruined her life. It wasn’t until I talked about it in therapy that I realised that I never had a choice in what school I went to. Same as I never had a choice in anything my mother decided for me. So how could I be to blame for the consequences of those decisions? And how can you? If they buy you certain clothes, then they have no right to criticise how you look in them. If they chose to put you in a private school, then the money spent is on them, not you. You shouldn’t have to “prove” you’re worth their decisions for you or their basic care for you--they chose to give you that unconditionally the moment they decided to have you in the first place, and if they refuse to give it or threaten to take it away, it’s becuase they’re neglectful and/or abusive, not because something intrinsic about you justifies it. You’re not a bad kid; you’re just a normal kid with very bad parents. And I’m really sorry that you have to put up with them. You deserve better 😔

I’m here if you need to vent again in the future, nonnie. Sending a virtual hug ❤

[madamslayyy]

Log Cabin and a Brewing Fire Part III

Pairing: Nebraska Williams (Trevante Rhodes) x Reader

A/N: here we go, I’m sorry for hoarding this chapter for so long, I actually had it 95% finished before Spring Break, I just needed to add a couple of paragraphs and revise. But here it is now and I’ve already started in the next chapter. As always let me know what you guys think, Good, Bad, or otherwise, it really helps me as a writer. Also just another reminder this is a SLOW BURN story, so yeah the actions pretty liteeeee

PART ONE - PART TWO

~*~

You awoke to the sunlight pouring into your bedroom. You weren’t quite ready to get up yet so you shrunk back into your pillow, attempting to pull the covers over your head but they wouldn’t move. You tugged a little harder but they wouldn’t move an inch. You cracked an eye open only to be met with the figure of your late night guest sleeping peacefully beside you. He also was the reason you were currently unable to retreat into your blankets, his enormous figure taking up most of them.

You took a moment to examine him. He slept on his tummy, face buried into his pillow. You knew he had to have been in an incredibly deep sleep because his durag was sliding off his head a little. You reached over and adjusted it for him, hoping it wouldn’t wake him up. He didn’t even twitch.

You decided now was as good a time as any to get up since it looked like you weren’t gonna be going back to sleep any time soon. You pulled back the covers then suddenly remembered you’d slept in just your underwear and a T-shirt. You grabbed some real clothes from your drawer and made a b-line to the bathroom to get dressed.

Once you were presentable enough to not have bacon grease pop on your bare thigh, you headed downstairs to cook some breakfast.

You had no idea what time Nebraska fell asleep last night so you couldn’t really tell if you should wake him up for breakfast or let him sleep through. The snow was falling at a steady pace and starting to really build up outside.

You decided to cook a vegan omlette with spinach for breakfast. You went ahead and made two, just in case Nebraska woke up hungry. He could always just heat it up.

You’d barely got them out of the skillet and onto the plate when he came trudging down the stair.

“Good morning sleepyhead, you’re just in time for breakfast.” You said setting down both plates.

“Morning,” his voice was still heavy with sleep. He walk to the cupboard to get himself a glass of water, chugging the whole thing then filling up another.

“How’d you sleep last night?” You asked cutting at a piece of the omelette.

“Best sleep I’ve had in a while,” he said rubbing his eyes as he sat down.

“Well they say ambiance is everything. Wish I could’ve put on my ‘Rainstorms’ playlist, that’ll really knock your out.” You rambled taking a bite of your omelette. You glanced at your phone, realizing it was later than you thought. With the snow picking up outside you’d probably need a little extra time to get to work so you decided to go ahead and start getting dressed. You trashed the remainder of your breakfast and headed to put your plate in the sink.

“You’re finished already?” Nebraska said eyeing your now empty plate. Your pretty sure this was the first time he spoke to you without you prompting him. Progress.

“Yeah I gotta go get ready for work,” you said turning around to wash your plate.

“At the museum right?”

“Yeah actually! How’d you know?”

“Your uncle told me. He talks about you a lot.”

“No embarrassing stories I hope,” you chuckled. The corners of Nebraska’s mouth turned upwards slightly in an almost smile.

“The museums closed today isn’t it?”

“What makes you think that?”

“It was on the News.” Of course he would be the type of guy to watch the news. You quickly called your boss, her phone ringing three times before she finally picked up.

“Hello?” She said gruffly.

“Mrs. Tilly? It’s Y/N,”

“Ooohhhhh Y/N! Hello dear how are you?”

“Fantastic. Is work cancelled today?”

“Oh you don’t know? There’s supposed to be a major blizzard rolling through tonight. Don’t you watch the news?” If you could express your eyeroll through the phone, you would.

“No Mrs. Tilly, I didn’t catch the news this morning,” you deadpanned.

“Oh well the museum received notice per the City Regulations Department that all public facilities, the museums and schools alike, were to be closed for the rest of the week. This is a great opportunity for you to get some rest dear, you’ve been working so hard lately on those new exhibits, take some time for yourself for once ,” she said sweetly.

“Thank you Mrs. Tilly, stay safe,”

“You too dearie!” You hung up the phone and headed back to the kitchen.

“Apparently the museum is closed. All week in fact. And I had so much work to catch up on,” you sighed, looking in the fridge to survey the amount of groceries you had left. You hadn’t been grocery shopping in a while because of how busy you’d been at work but you definitely were going to have to make a trip if being snowed in for the next 3-4 days was a possibility.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to make a quick run for groceries and supplies, would you like to go with me?” You asked over your shoulder.

“Sure,”

~*~

An hour later you and Nebraska were piled into your car and driving into town. With where your house was, it was about a 20 minute drive just to reach the entrance of town. You turned the radio up, hoping to kill a little bit of the silence but a new rendition of Jingle Bells was all that sounded through the vehicle.

“Sheesh it’s still October,” Nebraska muttered sinking into his seat.

“Not a big fan of Christmas music?” You asked, eyes on the road.

“Nah, not really .” You changed the station. Mariah Carey singing “We Belong Together,” took its place.

~*~

“Okay so almond milk, oatmeal, tofu, r-“

“Can I ask you something?” Nebraska chimed in as you read off your grocery list while the two of you strolled down the aisles.

“Of course, ask away,”

“So being vegan was a personal choice or is it a health thing or-“

“I’m not vegan.”

“Not?”

“At all.”

“Ohhhh,” he looked down awkwardly and you smirked.

“What? You don’t like my cooking?” You teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“It’s just... um.... different.” He nodded, a small smirk playing at his own lips.

“Well if you don’t like it then tell me what you’d like me to cook then,” you chuckled continuing down the aisle.

“Maybe we cou-

“Y/N! Oh it’s been so long!” You and Nebraska turned around to see just who was calling for you.

It was none other than Tonya Manning, Principal of Dauntley High School, the only high school in town. She would routinely bring her students to the museum once a semester for a field trip, which she’d always set up and coordinate through you.

“Principal Manning, it’s great to see you. I’m assuming they cancelled school today?” You smiled as she came in to give you a hug.

“Oh no they cancelled all schools two days ago. Don’t you watch the news?” She said releasing you.

“Apparently not enough,”

“Oh hello! You must be Y/N’s man she’s been hiding! I’m Tonya Manning,” Tonya said holding out her hand. Nebraska politely took it.

“Nebraska Williams. And we’re.... not... like that.” He said obviously uncomfortable.

“He’s just a friend, Tonya. He’s taking a little vacation from the military right now so he’s staying with me.” You chimed in.

“Vacation from the military? How long you in town for?” Damn this woman was nosey.

“Couple months, don’t really have a solid time frame.” Nebraska spoke but you doubted Tonya heard a word of it. She was looking this man up and down as if he was a ribeye steak and she was a starving Cayote that hadn’t eaten in weeks. You knew he was good looking but apparently you weren’t the only one with working vision in this town .

“Well, we actually have a position open at the school. Our current JROTC coach is in his 80s and could use a strong, young militant like yourself to help get the kids who wanna serve in shape. The JROTC program is getting bigger and bigger each year and we really have to start expanding.” She smiled digging in her purse to pull out her business card before giving it to him.

“Give me a call sometime and we’ll set it up.” She bit her lip and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yes ma’am,” Nebraska smirked and you began to realize whatever chance Tonya thought she stood might actually be mutual. You couldn’t really blame Nebraska, she was pretty, tall, had curves in all the right places and had even extra backside she retained curtesy of her two kids she had by her exhusband. Any man would go for her the same way any woman would go for him.

“Well it was nice seeing you again Tonya, call me soon and we’ll get that museum field trip in motion,” you spoke up sweetly to interrupt the giving each other bedroom eyes.

“Of course,of course! Bye Y/N, see you soon, Nebraska,” she smiled coyly, causing him to give a little wave. You could puke all over the both of them.

“So.... lets go get milk,” you smiled sweetly heading down the aisle.

~*~

The two of you were back home a couple of hours later, putting up groceries, or rather you watching Nebraska bring in and put up groceries while you attempted to help put away the small stuff.

“Are you hungry? Want me to make dinner?” You asked putting away the last of the groceries.

“No! But um thank you, I’m just not hungry.” You might have actually believed him if his stomach didn’t grumble the second he finished talking.

“Do you really hate my cooking that much?” You asked in a small voice.

“No! It’s not that! I just- I mean- you-“ he was at a lost for words and you couldn’t help the small smile that broke out across your lips.

“It’s okay, we just ate anyway so we’ll hold off on dinner for now,” you chuckled, getting a glass of water.

“Yeah we uh... just ate,” Nebraska glanced at his watch with his eyebrows furrowed. You headed up to your room and decided to get a head start on getting ready for bed since you’d be sleeping in Nebraska’s room tonight.

You really were genuinely happy he got a good night’s rest in your room. You would just take the necessities with you tonight but if need be, you could always switch rooms with him completely, it wouldn’t be too much of a pain to rearrange the two rooms.

Once out the shower and dressed for bed you decided to get as much work done as you could on your laptop for the new exhibits at the museum. Time must have slipped away from you because before you knew it, there was a light knock on your door, followed by Nebraska entering. He was dressed a bit more modest tonight, opting for Sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“Too early?” He asked, closing the door behind him. You glanced at the clock on your screen and saw it was already 9:30 p.m.

“Not at all,” you smiled warmly. You saw a small smile grace his lips before he adverted his eyes, smile still playing at his mouth.

He hopped into bed in the exact same spot as the night before, damn near on the edge of the bed. Maybe he was trying to be respectful of your side but you didn’t really see the point since you wouldn’t be here anyways.

“You can come lie in the middle of you want, you don’t have to sleep on the edge,” you said shutting your laptop and getting up to set it on your desk.

“Oh okay,” Nebraska mumbled, inching closer to the middle. You continued over to your oil diffuser and set the scent on Lavender, your favorite fragrance to get you to sleep. You then connected your phone to the Bluetooth speaker in it and set your Quiet Thunderstorms playlist going.

“Too loud?” You asked, glancing over at him.

“It’s perfect,” he muttered in that deep voice and you felt your cheeks heat up. This entire situation could be taken out of context and be used in the most romantic daydream, but you had to snap yourself out of it. He was simply a guest of your Uncle. You had no right to look at him in such a way, he didn’t come here to be harassed like that.

“Well then in that case, Good Night and Sweet Dreams,” you bid your adieu and turned the lights out, leaving only the soft everescent glow of your fairy lights illuminating the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” Nebraska asked right as you were about to shut the door behind you.

“To your room?” You said turning around.

“Why are you going there?”

“Because we’re switching rooms so you’ll sleep better. You said last night was the best nights sleep you had in a while so if my room had anything to do with it, consider it all yours.” You smiled but he didn’t notice. You saw that something was clearly bothering him.

“I did say that. Okay, well uh, Good night then,” he said gruffly and you left but the whole thing was awkward. Did he not want you to sleep in his room? Where did he expect you to sleep? The couch? Not that you couldn’t but that’d get pretty old after a couple nights.

You settled yourself into Nebraska bed, still cold and perfectly made, feeling like it hadn’t been touched in 2 years instead of just 2 days. You couldn’t resist burying your head into the pillow, trying to catch the faint scent of his cologne but it wasn’t there. You were damn near exhausted earlier and now you found that sleep eluded you.

You been staring out the enormous window when you heard the door crack open.

“Y/N? You still up?” Nebraska whispered, well as much as his deep tenor would allow, while peaking his head through the door.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Can, um, can you come... back?”

“Back to my room? You changed your mind already? I thought the atmosphere helped you go to sleep.”

“It wasn’t the atmosphere that was soothing me to sleep...” Nebraska trailed off and suddenly you knew exactly what he meant.

~*~

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @queen-of-the-jabari @queennanayaa @clydevevo @queennanayaa @chaneajoyyy @killmongerthiskoochie @theunsweetenedtruth @blackgirloneshots @blmforeal @erikkillmongerstan @jozigrrl @quietstorm-73 @sailorsenshi420 @wakandamama @mxearth @chefjessypooh @macfizzle @chasingsunlight @dameshaemonique @rubiesandravens @raysunshine78 @melaninmarvel l @melanisticroyalty @softnani @vibranium-soul @itstaliaduh @cinki-the-black-goddess @thehomierobbstark @darkangelchronicles @bartierbakarimobisson @doublesidedscoobysnacks @blackpinup22 @tchokemedaddy @clydevevo @amirra88 @labelletemps @wawakanda-btch

[momentofmemory]

it’s almost the end of october, which means one of the greatest, most terrifying exploits known to writers is upon us: NaNoWriMo.

there are plenty of super good survival posts out there, but as this’ll be my seventh time participating (six wins, hoping for a seventh), i thought i’d drop my own set of tips into the mix. i’m going to focus mostly on the practical details of how to write; if you want tips on the writing itself either search the writing/reference tags or pester me to do another one later :P with that said, ~on with the post~

Step One: Figure Out Your Goal

i know, i know, obviously it’s to write 50k, but what does that mean to you? are you expecting

polished prose, ready to send off to a publisher?

being able to write every day? 

just throwing up a bunch of ideas?

a mix of everything?

all of these are valid, but they’re going to require different approaches. if you want jaw-dropping writing, you’re going to need in the ballpark of five or more hours each day, if not more. if you want consistency, you’ll want to look at your normal schedule and set up a couple times you know you can write at. if just you want words, pretty much all you need to make sure is that you squeeze writing time in whenever.

your goal will probably change as the month progresses, and that’s totally fine. just check in every so often to remember a)what you’re working for and b)if it’s actually plausible. speaking of...

Step Two: Realize Your Limitations

1. Typing.

imma get super practical here: your typing speed dictates how fast you can get done. if you write 40wpm (the average), you cannot write the full 1667 in a half hour any more than you can run a mile in under three minutes. it’s honestly not a bad idea to check out your own speed, if only to help you understand yourself better. in my experience, actual writing then works like this (using my max speed, 89, as an example):

Absolute Max: 89 wpm (baseline)

Warring: 70 (75% of baseline)

In the zone: 45 (50% of baseline)

Taking my time, concentrated: 22 (25% of baseline)

anything lower than your max/4 probably means you’re spending a lot of time either researching or staring at the page, so just be aware of that.

2. Time & Focus

this kinda goes without saying, but best case scenario this is at least 1-2 hours of your life a day, or dedicating full Saturday/Sundays if you’re a weekend warrior kind of person. it’s so, so worth it if you can make time for it, but also don’t feel bad if you can’t! doing a half nano (25k) or whatever you want is also a fully acceptable plan.

that said, if you do have time, figure out your focus too. if you’ve never been the kind of person that can type for six hours straight, you will probably not magically become this person when it hits Nov. 1 (though with practice, you might be by Nov. 30). i like trying to write at least 300 before work and another 300 during lunch. that way there’s only 1k left for the evening, and having words on the page just makes me feel better. experiment with different ways of blocking out your time in the first few days and see what works best for you.

3. Don’t Forget You Live in a Body

writing is hard work, you will need to eat brain food! hunching over wrecks your back, stand up and stretch every so often! you will hate existing if you forgo sleep for days! and for the love of charles dickens, patron saint of getting paid by the word, take care of your mother-effing wrists!!

seriously on that last one. i’ve ignored it in the past and thoroughly screwed up my wrists one year; don’t be me. keep in them in a neutral position, do regular stretches, and if you need to, get wrist wraps (i recommend these).

Step Three: Actually Doing the Thing

the previous steps have had pretty broad advice, but now it’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty. these are mostly things i know work for me, and therefore may not for you—adjust to your own needs!

1. Write for 15 Minutes Every Day, Non-Negotiable.

i don’t even mean this is a “write 15 min and then your brain will be tricked into writing more” kinda way, but like, literally. you’re probably not going to be able to do 1667 every day—sometimes you’ll be tired and just won’t have the time. you’re very likely, however, to have 15 minutes, and you’ll want to use them. Doesn’t matter if you write 50 words or 500 in that time, at least you’ll have done something, and that’s usually enough to keep you from feeling like just giving up the next day.

2. You Might Need Physical Spaces

i’m a pretty sensory person when it comes to writing, and having a dedicated writing space is so helpful for me. going back to the idea of being an embodied person, it’s a lot easier to get your brain into a writing mode if your body’s already there. some good options include:

coffee shops (cozy! food!)

a specific room in your home (easily accessed! do what you want!)

libraries (free! quiet!)

a friend’s house (writing buddy! easy access to sounding board!)

all of these places usually have access to wifi, which is a positive.

3. You Definitely Need Digital Spaces

i pretty much always write in the same processor, once again because it helps set the mood. the main options include:

google drive (solid choice, cloud backup, mobile accessible)

dabble writer (cloud backup, links to nano, dark mode, chapter options)

write or die (only for actual writing—a scary but effective motivator; save elsewhere)

word/pages/etc. (ready to go on your computer, formatting options)

scrivener (great plotting tools, detailed interface)

i use dabble writer myself (they’re a nano sponsor, so you can get it free for this month, and as a double bonus you get it half off for the rest of the year if you win). and no, i’m not getting paid to wax poetic about them, but honestly i’ve used it to win the past two years and i adore it. 

anyway my biggest tip here is that i SUPER SUPER DON’T RECOMMEND NON-CLOUD OPTIONS. it’s very risky, but if you must, do a proper back up at least once a week. that shiz is not worth it.

4. The Timer is Your New Best Friend

because i’ve heard this argument before: no, it’s not a crutch, and no, it’s not cheating. it’s literally best practices. i’m personally a big fan of this online timer, and i let it run for 15 min every time i write. after each session i check how many words i wrote, then after maybe a quick 1-2 min break, start over.

you can totally set the timer for longer or shorter periods, depending on what works for you. i’m a fan of the 15 min sessions bc it’s just long enough to get a bit of flow going, and just short enough that i can convince my spacy brain that we can get through it without wandering. it’s also a fantastic length for warring, if you’re down for that.

5. Write That Idea Down for Lewis’s Sake

the original idea for the chronicles of narnia came to c.s. lewis when he was at a restaurant, and thank the lord, he wrote it down on a napkin. he wouldn’t write it until some time later, but if he hadn’t written it down, he might’ve forgotten it. why is this important, you ask?

BC YOU WILL FORGET THINGS.

if you have an idea, write it down in your phone or your notebook or the waterproof paper in your shower, because i don’t care how sure you are that you’ll remember it, you super won’t. i’ve forgotten many solutions to plot holes in my time and i still hold vigils over their graves. don’t be me. write it down.

Step Four: Managing that Inner Critic of Yours

all right, pay attention. i’m not going to tell you not to edit, because i would be a massive hypocrite if i did. i totally edit during nano. the important part is letting your editor help you win, not hurt you. and that means gaming your critic’s system.

1. Have a Dedicated Deletion Section

many people hear “don’t delete anything” and baulk, because for some of us it’s distracting and we want to rewrite that section until it matches our vision. so, i’m here to tell you: delete it!! rewrite entire chapters!! just save the original content as part of your word count. this is another reason i love dabble, bc at the start of nano i just make a separate part of the book, label it “delete”, and any time i’m writing and dislike a sentence/paragraph i just dump it into that folder and move on. this way you still get to keep the numbers (and why shouldn’t you? you wrote them!) while also writing words you actually like. plus, sometimes that line you deleted in ch. 1 winds up being supremely pertinent in ch.15, and now you can just copy/paste it instead of having to try to remember what exactly you’d said.

2. Acknowledge Ranting as a Time Honoured Tradition

think there’s no precedent for that 2K diatribe you wrote on the london underground? well fear not, because you can’t possibly do worse than hugo’s entire chapters worth of content on the french sewer system! or melville’s frankly terrifying obsession with the finer features of whale biology!

like, yeah, maybe you’ll decide later you don’t need it, but for now, embrace that soap box. dead white guys have been doing it for centuries and still get places in college syllabi. the least you can do is give it a place in your word count.

Step Five: Have Fun!

i know, i know, it’s cliche, but seriously. if this isn’t fun, or at least rewarding, why are you doing it anyway? so enjoy it! send passages you’re proud of to your friends! daydream about it in the car on the way to work/school! cry over a notebook about the twist you just came up with! nano’s a time of fun and exploration, and you shouldn’t miss out on it because you’re thinking too much.

also, this might be counter productive to put at the end of an essay on nano, but don’t obsess over reading essays on nano :P there comes a time when one must simply do, and nano is pretty much the definition of that.

[kweebtrash]

Could you make a drabble with Johnny masturbating while thinking of Eri? 🤭

I already did this in Ch. 3. So i decided to do a masturbation scene with phone sex, teasing, dirty talk, Johnny being really desperate and needy?, and a smidge of daddy kink. So like I hope that’s ok? Also in Johnny's POV(obvs).

[9:45pm]

Wyd?

I typed out my favorite three letters in hopes of enticing her enough to come over. I had no idea why but the feeling of her beneath me while I fucked her hard was suddenly stuck in my brain. It had been all I could think about for the past half hour and I couldn’t quit. I imagined pinning her legs down with mine and laying my body over hers which made her look smaller than she actually was. She would almost always squirm against me, shoving her ass back to take me deeper and I just-

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: not you. Bye

What?? Now I would have to spend extra time convincing her. God, fuck my life. 

C'mon baby. I'll really make it worth your while

🦇BattOuttaHell🦇: yah I'm sure🙄 I'm busy

Doing what?

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: none of ur business. I'm busy

Jesus did I really have to beg? I bet she wasn't even doing anything. It’s fucking Tuesday night. Who does anything on a Tuesday?

Please baby? I can't stop thinking about you

Girls liked that shit,I didn't they? I mean...it was actually true though.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: BWAHAHAHAHHA

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: lmao ur that desperate huh baby boy?

I'm not desperate 😑 just horny

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: hate to break it to ya but horny and bugging me is you being desperate

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: srsly tho I'm stuck studying for an exam I know jack shit about. I'm screwed

You can also be screwed if you come over

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: pls die

Why are you so violent all the time?!!

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: bruh violence is my middle name

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: sry but it'll just be u and ur hand tonight

I groaned because I really really didn't want that. I would much rather have her squeezed around my cock and hear those soft breathy moans she made all the time. She would always hold onto me then, maybe dig some scratches into my back as I went as deep as I could go. I groaned in frustration and wanted to throw my phone but persisted. I was going to regret typing this and was already cringing but I figured I had to pull out the big guns. We were still trying this whole thing out but a test drive wouldn't be so bad.

Princess, daddy really needs you

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: oh my god Johnathan

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: 🚫🛑✋

I thought you liked that???

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: I do

The ellipse signaling her response bubbled for awhile and I wondered what the hell kind of paragraph she was writing.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: princess has to study. I'm srsly gonna fail😭😭

Just a little break? Please??

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: daddy with you it's never a "little break"

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: ull keep me there for hours and then I won't sleep and then I'll be tired and then I will fail

I sat up a little straighter staring at that word. It had a much different and more profound effect on me when she wrote it. I didn't cringe; instead I felt it deeply seeded within the base of my cock and it made my hormones go into overdrive. I quickly typed out a response hoping to make the conversation a bit more...dirty.

That's for sure

You know how long I can go and how weak you are for me when I've been inside you for hours.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: I mean it's alright ig

Goddamn it! Why was she like this? She was such a frustrating little shit!

Bruh I'm just tryna get off ok? If you're not gonna come over can you at LEAST help me out a little??????????

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: wtf you want me to do? Sext you??

I mean it's better than you being a dick to me

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: aww baby boy wants to whineeee

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: u are pretty much begging at this point

I rolled my eyes hating that she was kind of right.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: good thing I like to hear men beg for me

Oh shit. Did that mean that I was getting closer to her helping me? It was probably one of those kink things. I thought for awhile if I should actually swallow my pride and do it some more just to get her to participate. I was going to feel like an idiot but at least I'd be an idiot who came. I sent her a snap of me pouting with the puppy filter trying to be cute enough.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: ur an idiot u know that right?

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: anyway idk how to sext?

What do you mean you dont know how to sext? You just do it.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: well i’m not gonna say stuff your cock in my pussy thats fucking disgusting

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: also im a writer so it’s just gonna come out weird

Try me. You can like describe what you like me doing to you. Anything.

I set my phone down and waited for her to respond. It wasn’t that difficult. I did it all the time but i wanted her to start. I just wanted to hear her instead of being wrapped up in my stupid fantasies. I looked down at the bulge in my sweatpants and sighed. If i got started now then I would keep getting interrupted and have to wipe my hand off every time. I set my pillow over my head and hoped that if I suffocated myself enough then I wouldn't have to suffer any longer.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: this is not going to be sexy at all lol

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: but i seriously love when you grab my hips and use it to fuck me deeper. I love how much you stretch me open, how much you fill me and those grunts you make when youre close

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: i love when youre fucking me from behind and press yourself into my back and pin my wrists down. You make me feel so small and wrapped up in protectiveness i guess? Or maybe possessiveness. You usually bite down on my neck and shoulders when youre like that. The hickies are a pain in the ass to cover but i love looking at them afterwards and feeling how tender they are. It makes me remember the ache and how i cant wait to fuck you again.

🦇BatOuttaHell🦇: is this ok?

Fuck. yes. I typed out as soon as my phone vibrated with her response.

Shit, i couldn’t believe just her typing something could get me even harder but i could feel myself throbbing beneath my sweats. I wanted her to keep going but I needed to get off before i couldn’t take it anymore. I dared to call her and hear her seductive but shy voice. I dialed her number and hoped to God she would answer.

"Are you trying to have phone sex with me?" She asked instantly.

"15 minutes." I panted. "Take a break for 15 minutes."

"No more than that. I really have to study…"

"I promise, baby. I promise." I shoved my sweats off, keeping the phone between my ear and shoulder, and grabbed the base of my cock. The first stroke was slow, steady, full of yearning and as it turned out desperation. Precum was already covering my head and making a mess but I used that to my advantage. It added slickness to my strokes, easily letting my palm slide up and down my shaft. "Please just talk to me."

Her voice seemed to get a little lower. "What do you want me to say?"

"Anything." I bit down on my lip for a moment as my hips lifted into a particularly rough jerk. "I just want to hear your voice."

"I want to hear your moans then. Those pants, the groans, those little growls. Don't hold back, Johnny."

I set the phone on speaker so I could keep it beside me and have more freedom. "Ye-yeah. I won't hold back trust me."

I gripped onto the blanket beside me, trying to remind myself that I needed to use those fifteen minutes to my full advantage. I knew with how much of a brat she was, she probably already had a timer going. I slowed my strokes a little bit, giving my fingers time to roll over my head and dip into my slit. I breathed out a soft pant as I focused everything on how sensitive I was. With each stroke of my fingers I imagined Eri on top of me, grinding into my hips and taking every inch I would give her. She looked so utterly gorgeous, like a fucking goddess every time she smirked down at me or set her hands on my chest to steady herself. Why was she so damn perfect?

"A little louder Johnny. I want to really hear you or else I'll hang up."

"N-no." I choked out. "F-fuck...I'm just thinking about you!"

My fist was trembling around the blanket as I could hardly hold back. I squeezed my hand a little tighter around myself trying to replicate the way she clenched around my cock. It wasn't exactly the same but damn near close.

"Hmm? Thinking about me? What am I doing to my baby boy?"

“Riding me! Fuck you’re riding me so fucking good.” I groaned louder than I expected. My thighs were starting to tremble just a bit and i dug my toes into the mattress. I was bucking even harder than before, The thoughts of her were driving me crazy; her voice was adding to it all and those coy little giggles made it even worse. I wanted her so fucking bad.

“Do you want to cum?” She breathed out. 

“Yes.” I growled deeply. “Eri...shit…”

“You’re super cute when youre begging. Do you think I should let you?” She teased.

“Oh, i’m going to, whether you let me or not princess. What daddy says, goes.” i released another growl and gripped my balls with my other hand, squeezing them in a chaotic dance of pleasure and need.

“Not when daddy calls princess begging to fuck. You can hold out a bit longer. I deserve to hear a few more moans.”

I let out a growl of frustration. “Eri.” I said sternly. “I swear to god…”

“Say my name like that as you fuck me from behind.”

I tossed my head back into the mattress as the vision popped in my head instantly. My hand stroked at an ungodly pace as i felt my release approaching fast. I was a mess of feelings and sounds, drowning in my own lust and letting my body fall into every awakened nerve. My muscles tightened and i felt warmth rush over me. My breathing deepened as I squeezed out the last few ropes of cum that splattered all over my stomach. My hand was drenched as well and i flopped back, sighing as i knew i had so much to clean up. I picked up the phone with my clean hand and took her off speaker.

“14 minutes, 39 seconds. Good job.”

“I knew,” I licked my lips and tried to steady my breath. “You were fucking counting, you evil little shit.”

“Whhaaatttt! I have to get back to studying! Except I might have a little fun myself.”

“Are you kidding me? After I asked? God, i cant stand you.”

She chuckled and I could just see that devilish smirk on her face. “Mhm, whatever you say. I have to get going now. Have fun cleaning up.”

[hystericalrogertaylor]

Reconnecting (Chapter Twelve)

Pairing: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor X Reader

Word count: 2529

Summary: (Y/n) and Roger have been friends since the cradle. When they’re suddenly pulled apart and reconnected years later, they both can tell that the relationship has evolved. They lead very different lifestyles now. Can they continue what they had, or go for something more, with this gap between them?

Warnings: A mugging (violence), cussing, drinking, mentioned sex

A/N: I did not combine the names of my two doctors to make the doctor’s name in this chapter...nope...not at all... Also, I’m sorry if the gif doesn’t move on a computer, I don’t know what’s up with it. And on mobile it may look like one big block of text but there are paragraph breaks! I’m sorry it looks so awkward, I’ll try to figure it out.

Master list

(Not linking the Spotify playlist because Tumblr’s been having issues with Spotify or something. Either way, it’s not working.)

~~~

You were struggling, mentally and physically. Mentally because your life was not where you wanted it to be and everything seemed to be going wrong. Physically because you were stumbling down the streets, trying to remember how to get home. You only realized half an hour after leaving the bar that you probably should’ve let John help you home. You were so out of it at that point, however, that you didn’t even hear the footsteps of the men behind you.

“Hey,” one of them called out threateningly. You turned around, trying to focus your vision on what was in front of you. “Give us the bag.”

“What?” you slurred, still not understanding what was happening.

“Give us your bag!” a short, angry man yelled.

“No!” You hugged your purse to your chest, backing away slowly. “No, it’s mine!”

One of the men, the tallest of the bunch, stepped forwards and grabbed one of the straps, yanking on it as hard as he could. Being drunk and weak, you lost your grip on it, falling forward onto your knees from the force of having the object yanked from your arms. One of the men kicked you in the ribs before turning tail and running away with the others.

You lay there for God knows how long, groaning in pain and trying to contain your tears. You didn’t want anyone to find you, fearing the worst could happen. Eventually, you pulled yourself up with the help of a bush, this time limping on towards your house.

When you finally arrived, you slammed the door shut and slid down the wall, finally letting out all your tears. You could feel that your ribs were bruising, and taking a breath in hurt. Not to mention you were without all of your cash, ID’s, credit cards, and key to get into the studio.

You phoned Freddie’s house about an hour later, after finally having been able to calm down. “Hello, Paul Prenter speaking, Freddie Mercury’s house,” the person on the other line said.

“Paul, I need to talk to Freddie.” You yawned, the alcohol and crazy night catching up to you.

“He’s busy, (L/n),” Paul said, clearly annoyed. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to Freddie,” you said, slurring your words together again.

“No.” With that, Paul hung up on you.

You sighed, flopping down on the couch. The rest of the band was likely asleep, meaning you couldn’t call them for help getting into the studio tomorrow. Well, you knew Roger was most definitely not asleep, but you didn’t want him to pick up the phone in the middle of having sex with some random woman.

You decided to just go to bed; you’d figure it out in the morning. You stumbled into the bedroom, getting under the covers without even taking off your day clothes. James stirred, but you thankfully didn’t wake him.

While Roger was sharing a bed with some one night stand, you were sharing a bed with James for the first time in forever.

---

“Who was that?” Freddie asked, looking over at Paul. The two of them had gone back to Freddie and Mary’s flat after things at the bar had calmed down. They were watching a movie and getting more drunk when they got your call. Freddie and Mary had been laughing too hard at something to be able to hear Paul say your last name.

“No one.” Paul sat back down, unmuting the movie.

Freddie frowned. “Well, it couldn’t have been no one if they have my number.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “It’s no big deal, (Y/n) just wanted to tell you she’d gotten home safely.”

“All right…” Freddie was skeptical. He made a mental note to call you back once the movie was over. But he never got the chance; he passed out five minutes later.

---

Roger did end up having sex with the girl. Her name was either Amanda or Amara, he couldn’t remember. He sat at the foot of his bed, smoking a cigarette while she was fast asleep behind him. All he could think was that the experience was so unspeakably boring.

He’d done this countless times before. How many women had he brought home and done the exact same thing with? They’d want the same type of boring, everyday sex, which was fine with him at first, but now it all felt wrong. He felt like there was something better he could be doing with his time.

The entire time, he also couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, like there was something in his life he needed to fix. But he couldn’t pinpoint it. He only realized as he smoked that cigarette what it was. It was things with you.

He hadn’t seen you leave the bar, and the empty pit in his stomach was the anxiety he felt. He had seen you take those shots, and he knew you’d be drunk. He wanted you to be safe. He acknowledged that he’d been irrationally angry, and going and finding a woman just to spite you made him kind of an asshole. Okay, a supreme asshole. The king of the assholes.

“Rogieeeeee,” Amanda/Amara suddenly whined, drawing out the last syllable. “Rogie, come back here. Let’s do that again.” He looked back and saw her sitting up, sheets pooled around her waist, smirking.

He rolled his eyes, turning back around. “Not interested.”

She slowly crawled over to Roger, hugging him from behind, making sure one of her hands landed low on his stomach. “C’mon, babe. While the night’s still young.” She leaned her head down, biting his neck, no doubt leaving another mark.

Roger groaned, rolling his shoulder back to push her off. Amanda/Amara sat back onto the bed, letting out another whine. “Why nooooot?”

“Because I’ve got shit to fix.” Roger stood up, not even bothering to put pants or boxers back on. He flew into his living room, picking up the phone and dialing your phone number as fast as he could.

But you didn’t pick up. Because you were asleep. Roger slammed the phone down, putting his head in his hand with shame.

---

You managed to get to the studio first the next day. You wanted to be there when the next person got there, so they could let you in.

That next person ended up being John. He looked relieved to see you alive. Without mentioning last night or the way you were still limping, he unlocked the door and walked with you into the studio.

Brian came next, and then Freddie, which was strange. Freddie never arrived before the rest of the band. Where was Roger? You knew the answer, but just didn’t want to admit it.

Roger walked in almost an hour late. He had a coat on, a scarf around his neck, and a small bouquet of roses in his hand. You tried to avoid looking at him and the scarf, which you knew was covering various hickeys, but the roses caught your eye. He hovered awkwardly by the door for a few seconds before shuffling over to you. He held out the roses to you, not making eye contact. “These, um...these are for you.”

You blinked, grabbing them out of his hand. “Um, thanks. But, why?”

Roger sighed, actually looking at you now. “Because I feel bad. I was a jerk last night and you didn’t deserve to be snapped at like that.”

You smiled, setting the roses down on the couch and standing up. “How thoughtful, thank you Roger.” You opened your arms, inviting him into a hug.

He breathed a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms around you tightly. However, he squeezed in the wrong place on your back, causing your ribs to flare up with pain. You yelped, falling back into your seat with his arms still around you.

Roger took a step back, frowning. “What? What happened?”

You put a hand on your ribs, taking a few deep breaths. “Ugh, if that guy cracked my rib--”

“What?” Roger asked more insistently. “If who cracked your rib? Did James--?” The look in his eyes could kill.

“No,” you answered quickly. “No, not James. I was mugged, but I’m fine.” You slowly leaned onto the armrest, trying to ease the pain.

Roger’s eyes went wide, and he looked like he was trying not to cry. “W-when?”

“After I left the bar last night.”

Roger nodded, pressing his lips together. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Just my dignity.” You tried to laugh, but Roger didn’t want to play along.

“Guys, I’m taking (Y/n) to the hospital,” Roger stated to everyone else, reaching out a hand to help you up.

You chuckled. “Rog, I’m fine, trust me. I’m not in too much pain if I don’t mess with it. Or shower.”

“Remember when we both broke our arms when I fell out of that tree?” Roger asked suddenly.

“Um...yeah?”

“You ran for help, even when you were in excruciating pain. You helped me. And now it’s about time I helped you.” He grabbed your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Awww, how adorable!” Freddie practically squealed from the corner of the room, a large, toothy smile on his face. You smiled while Roger rolled his eyes at Freddie’s antics.

Roger helped you off the couch and assisted you out into the parking lot. The two of you took his car to the nearest emergency room. He helped you into the building, because the pain had slowly gotten worse since you’d gotten up that morning. You checked in, told the receptionist the problem, and waited for a tech to call you back for a CT scan and X-ray.

Your best friend stayed with you the whole time. He stood off to the side, with a heavy shawl draped over his whole body to protect from radiation, as you got the X-ray, and stood right next to you, in a similar heavy garment, talking to you soothingly while you were sent into a large donut for the CT scan. You felt a million times better with him there next to you.

You and Roger waited in an exam room for what felt like forever. Finally, a doctor named Dr. Hinton came in, holding the results of your X-ray and CT scan.

“The X-ray didn’t show us anything,” he explained, “which is a good sign, it means nothing is seriously broken. The CT scan, however, showed us a couple of fractures. Nothing terrible, but you’ll still need to treat it. We recommend some pain meds and icing the area as much as you can. Does it hurt to breathe?” You nodded. “Okay, well, you can’t be afraid to breathe deeply. You need to do that so your lungs don’t get weaker, you could get pneumonia. Try not to do too many strenuous things, you could make the injury worse. Come back and see me in a week.”

You and Roger then took a trip to the local drug stores to get one of those ice bags people use in cartoons when they injure themselves, and then to a grocery store for a large bag of ice. Roger filled the ice pack in the parking lot before gently placing it on your abdomen area. “There,” he whispers. “Feel good?”

You nodded, putting your hand over Roger’s and holding the ice pack in place. “Thank you so much for helping me,” you said, looking up at him.

He gave you a sad smile. “My pleasure. I’m sorry I acted like a dick last night. I just...need to learn to control my temper.”

“Took you twenty-six years to figure that out?” you joked, nudging him in the arm with your other fist.

Roger nodded, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, you’d think I would’ve gotten it before this.” He moved his hand to your face, kneeling down so he could be more level with you. “You know I care about you, right? I know I can be a whiny little bitch at times, but I’ll always be there for you when you need me.”

You smiled, grabbing his hand and holding it. “I know, Rog. And I greatly appreciate you and everything you’ve ever done for me.”

Roger sighed, pulling his hand away and going to sit in the driver’s seat of his car. He started the engine, driving off towards his house.

---

The two of you sat on Roger’s couch, cuddled up together, watching a movie while you iced your rib. You couldn’t help but wonder, as you sat there happy as could be, if this could be your life. He’d kissed you, you could tell he had feelings for you. But could you actually date a person like Roger Taylor?

“Hey Roger?” you asked.

“What’s up?” he responded, suddenly more alert. “Do you need more ice? Are you in pain?”

“No, I’m fine.” You slowly repositioned yourself so you could see his face. “I was just wondering...just...what am I to you?”

Roger blinked, as if he didn’t understand the question. “Well, you’re my best friend.”

“No, but...do you want me to be more to you?” When he still looked confused, you kept talking. “I mean, we kissed at that bar the other night, I was wondering if that meant you wanted a different kind of relationship with me.”

Roger thought about it for a second. “I mean, that sounds nice, but you know I’m not stellar at dating.”

“I know,” you answered. “But, if you really like me in that way, then maybe you’d be more willing to try?”

Roger sighed. “Probably not,” he admitted.

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut. “But...why not?”

You could tell he was getting agitated. “I don’t know! Because...ugh. I’m too rowdy for you. I party too hard and have too much sex and drink and smoke too much, while you’d rather stay home and drink some warm tea and read a book. We weren’t meant for each other.”

You blinked your tears away. “Roger, that’s crazy. If we both like each other, we should be making an effort to see if we could make a relationship work!”

Roger shook his head. “There’s no point. Eventually, you’re going to get tired of having a boyfriend who comes home at four in the morning, drunk and horny, all the fucking time.”

“Better than what I’m dealing with now!” you shouted. As the shock registered on Roger’s face, you tried to smooth over what you’d just said. “Let’s not fight, we just made up. Let’s just watch the movie. Forget I said anything.”

Roger looked like he was going to blow up again. He sat back, taking several deep breaths. “Do you want to stay over tonight?” he asked suddenly.

You sighed, leaning over onto him again. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I suppose.”

The two of you sat in silence. The movie played, but neither of you were interested. He was busy thinking about how he’d just fucked up, and you were too busy scolding yourself for having such a foolish dream of a life with Roger.

Taglist:

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