#also: auf writes dialogue??? wild

[aufucker]

It's Just A Routine Mold Inspection

BJ/Lawrence

Noooo CWs I can think of beyond implied unsanitary? And just. Law being Very Strange and Off-putting.

Long boy coming.

When it came to your line of work, you noticed reading comprehension began at "Re-Nu" and ended at "TRAUMA CLEANING" with little mind given to the following like "MOLD" or "WATER DAMAGE".

The looks of wide eyed confusion you and your coworkers would receive as you pulled up to the large apartment complex were expected. A routine mold inspection with likely no routine communication given on management's part.

Fun, you adored repeating yourself over and over again.

You and your team opted to keep your suits sleeves tied around your waists, or at least kept the hoods down, in hopes it would keep folks from assuming some plague had been cast upon their home.

With clipboard in hand that you long had memorized, you slapped it against your thigh like a battalion drum beat.

"Alright, alright, alright. Got a big building and a bunch of doe eyes, so let's keep talk brief; I want teams of two on each floor, knock, let 'em know it's just a mold check, do your thing, get on out."

"If you don't get an answer, jot down the apartment number and call me about it AFTER you finish your floor; building management gave me a master key and maintenence slips and don't want to call us in the morning, am I making myself clear, *Montgomery?*"

Your callout earned a few quiet chuckles and hearty cackles as your coworker quickly looked up from his phone, nearly dropping his energy drink. "Yeah--! I mean, yeah. I got'cha BJ; they don't open up, you'll break down the doors an' shit."

"Good enough, I'll give that answer a solid C+."

"What? I thought that'd be a B- at worst!"

"You best Be Minusing some fuckin' mold man, it's 7 in the morning and they want us gone by 1500."

---

It was all routine and script. It was frankly boring as Hell.

Knock, script, routine, sign, knock, script, routine, sign. No, no one died, no, no one is sick, no, no one got murdered, no, no, no. Knock, script, routine, sign.

Call.

"Hey, hey Yanez, what's up? Need a key?" You always spoke a little softer to Erica, she was an older lady after all.

"No, well... maybe? Do you have a phone number for this unit? I wanna try calling first."

"*Kookum*, you know we don't call. I can open it for you."

You were surprised to hear the voices of your other coworkers on the other side.

"It smells weird."

"We tried knocking, like, fifty times already. Think I heard someone tell us to fuck off, basically."

"The vibes are straight shit, dude. Can't we just forget this one, like... It's one."

Fucking Montgomery.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing heavily to where they could *all* hear you. "Text me the unit and keep it moving. I'll take care of it. 'Smells weird' come the fuck on, Cherry; you were there for that level five hoard last month. 'Smells weird'." You hung up with little grace.

---

You spun the key in on your gloved finger as your eye scanned the door. It was the right unit. You stood in thoughtful silence, ears perked and nostrils flared.

Okay, it did smell weird. Like earth. Not like mold, but freshly turned dirt. Like a Home Depot garden center right at Spring.  You weren't quite sure what to make of it, not in a way that was relevant to why you were here.

Seizing the key in your hand, you knocked on the door, firm and pounding, like a damn fed. If someone was there, they definitely knew you were there.

"Re-Nu Decon, here for a routine mold inspection." You said loudly. You said with authority - something your coworkers didn't really have a grip on.

You only waited a few seconds before pressing your ear to the door, listening. You could hear shuffling, faint and...sluggish. The smell of earth was so strong, you felt like you were pressing against a buried coffin lid.

You backed away, pounding again, "Hey, man. Look, I got keys, 'aight. You don't want me to barge in, I don't wanna barge in. Hope about you open the door so I can be in and out of your hair, okay?"

Maybe a minute passed, you didn't check, but you heard the clicking sounds of latches opening. *A lot of latches.* More than you knew your key could have possibly opened.

The door cracked open and a pale, blue eye met you. It looked exhausted. You seen that sort of look before, hell, you felt that sort of look before. You softened up a bit, giving a patient smile.

"Hey, man. Sorry for bugging you. Mold inspection. Mind if I come in?" You figured keeping it short and sweet would be for the best. "Will just be a few minutes, promise. I'm fast."

The eyes looked at you, but you weren't sure what was behind them. A rather quiet, "Yeah." was your answer.

You entered the apartment, looking at the man who dwelled in it; a lanky blond thing with tired blue eyes that didn't seem capable of looking at it for more than a few seconds at a time. He was tall. But you were still taller. He didn't seem to expect it.

You watched him scratch at the light stubble on his chin in discomfort as you looked around. The place was utterly covered in plants, some you knew, some you didn't, but you found it a little impressive all the same, giving a low whistle.

At least you had an explanation for the dirt smell.

"Any of these plants need humidifiers?"

"Huh? Oh. Uh... yeah... some."

"Got'cha. Ventilation good?"

"Uhm... I... I think so."

You nodded briefly, walking around the small unit as you scanned the typical suspects, the corners, the kitchen, the ceilings. All the while your nose was filled with the scent of earth and nature and

copper.

You could feel his eyes bearing into your back, like they were trying to burrow into your spine when you carefully slid a plant out of the way to check the walls it covered.

"African Mask?" You asked.

"Yeah..." he answered. You think he sounded surprised.

"You got a nice collection, man. How long you been growing?" Swab, crack, shake, wait. Negative.

"Thanks." His words sounded like they were being pulled by ropes. "I, uh... been doing it a while."

This whole damn unit was taking a while. You tried to focus on your work, tried to ignore the feeling of eyes on you. In you. Swab, crack, shake, wait. Negative. It felt like hours of painfully long silence, the rattling of leaves of the plants you moved ringing like static.

You heard him speak. Close. Too close. "Uhm... do you... want some tea?"

Jesus, Joseph, and fucking Mary. You hoped your jolt out of your skin wasn't obvious. "Huh? Oh, uh, no. No thanks. Appreciate it. I'm wrapping up now. You're clear so far. Just gotta check the bathroom."

"Someone's in there." He answered before you could really finish. "It's. Occupied."

You wanted to argue, tell him to tell whoever the fuck was doing their business *that long* to hurry the hell up and get out so you can swab fucking toilets for mold spores... but you noticed the time.

And you noticed how he stared at you. Through you.

1523. You fucking went over. He was looking through you. In you.

"...right. Well. If you had anything going on, I think most of it would be out here. So... uh... yeah. I'm sure the bathroom's fine." It was embarrassing how your words felt like putty in your mouth. The click of your pen felt like a crate of bricks were being dropped as you passed it and your clipboard over to him.

"Just... Sign by your unit number and I'll be out."

It smells like earth. It smells like copper.

You didn't bring anything to test for blood.

Why would you?

It's a routine mold inspection.

[all-chickens-are-trans]

Fanfic ask game: D about Hühnerküsse, E about Postkarten, F, and U please!

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with “Hühnerküsse”?

Well, not fo this one specifically, but I do have a dwh playlist with songs that are inspiration for my fics, and some of those songs are on there because of “Hühnerküsse”. 

It’s this one.

E: If you wrote a sequel to Postkarten, what would it be about?

Hmm, the first thing that popped into my mind wasn’t a sequel, but more like a prequel, and maybe Fred’s POV. As in, what does he feel when he gets these postcards? How does he come to terms with his feelings, and how does he talk to Sprotte about it? tbh I kinda really want Fred and Sprotte to discuss polyamory and their respective feelings for their best friends.

If it had to be a sequel, it would probably be just a series of postcards that Fred and Willi and Sprotte and Frieda send to each other. Like, Sprotte and Frieda go on a trip with Melanie and Trude and Wilma, and Sprotte feels a little tipsy and sappy one night, so she writes a postcard to Fred for his collection. And maybe Willi feels weirdly jealous about it because the postcards are his and Fred’s thing, so he writes a random postcard from somewhere - and maybe Fred and Sprotte misunderstand and think this is the fun, playful kind of competitive, while Willi really has problems working through this and speaking up about his insecurity about it. It escalates a bit, some drama happens, but it all works out in the end. Willi gets to talk about his feelings (it’s mostly about how insecure he feels because it was Fred-and-Sprotte for so long and he has just been with Fred for such a short time), and Fred gets to assure him that Willi matters to him. And Sprotte and Willi have this really awkward, but really good conversation, where Willi apologizes for overreacting and Sprotte apologizes for misjudging the situation, and they don’t really know how to act around each other, but then Sprotte makes a joke about how ridiculously in love Fred has been with Willi since forever, and how Sprotte suspected that before Fred even knew! And it makes Willi really flustered and warm inside, so he deflects by bringing up all the embarrassing antics Fred got into when they were kids and he was trying to impress Sprotte. So, basically, they both try to embarrass each other with how much Fred has always loved them, end up making fun of Fred and how friggin’ cheesy he is, and they both know how secretly cheesy both of them are as well. 

(damn, you make me want to write that sequel now. was that your evil plan all along??!)

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Verdammt. Es tut ihr leid.

Sie wünschte, sie würde das über die Lippen kriegen, aber dann würde sie ja zugeben, dass sie es verkackt hat. Und es gibt nichts, was Sprotte weniger kann. „Melanie…“ sagt sie stattdessen, aber Melanie schüttelt nur wild ihren Kopf. Ihr Gesicht ist hinter ihren Locken versteckt.

Sprotte sitzt nur hilflos da und vergräbt ihre Fingernägel in ihren Fäusten.

„Ich glaub‘“, schnieft Melanie nach einer Weile, „dass du mich eigentlich gar nicht wirklich magst. Ihr alle. Ich pass‘ doch eh nicht in eure bescheuerte Bande. Ihr wärt alle besser dran ohne mich.“

Sprotte presst die Lippen zusammen. „Stimmt doch gar nicht“, sagt sie leise. Und weil ihr nichts besseres einfällt, setzt sie hinzu: „Trude mag dich, sehr.“ Sie beißt sich auf die Lippen. Das war wahrscheinlich nicht die richtige Antwort.

Melanie lacht auf, schrill und kurz. „Trude ist doch egal.“ Dann, schnell: „Nein, also, so meine ich das natürlich nicht. Nur – …“ Sie hebt den Kopf und sieht Sprotte an. Sprotte muss wegsehen. „Du bist die, auf die es ankommt. Die hören alle nur auf dich. Und wenn du mich nicht magst, dann…“ Melanies Stimme wird immer leiser, dann verstummt sie einfach.

That’s “Hühnerküsse” chapter 3. This scene was really self-indulgent, because I wanted Melanie to finally get to say that she feels under-appreciated and unloved by her friends - it was more about me working through an issue with the books and less about characterization or plot. But I think it actually works pretty well for them? Sprotte being stubborn and feeling bad, but still not being able to say what she really feels. Melanie being just as stubborn, but also hurt, and trying to get through to Sprotte. I’m absolutely 100% sure that Melanie will regret saying all these things the next day and Sprotte won’t be able to think about anything else for days and weeks. I’m just happy how that whole chapter turned out, but this was the part I worked especially hard on, and I think it pays off.

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

tbh I don’t read much fic these days?? I haven’t read much in many years, and barely from specific people, more like, specific ships and scenarios. So, this is gonna sound cheesy, but it’s true: You’re my favorite :3 <3

Also, generally my favorite fic is whatever my friends write, because I love to know where people come from when they write. So, I always adored my friend Kit’s (lesbiankavinsky, among other pseuds) writing for various fandoms. Also, my friend Jenna wrote my favorite fic for my favorite niche webseries and podcasts, and also an incredibly amazing Simon vs. fic where both Simon and Bram are youtubers and it’s SO GOOD

[sugarplum-senpai]

snk-shit

hat auf deinen Eintrag geantwortet

“Strong”

I need more of this!! The writing is beautiful and it is so intriguing! I hoped for this to be longer, or became a fanfic! But nonetheless, amazing work!! Love it!

Aww! Thank you so very much for this wonderful comment! <3 Hearing that you love this story and even could have read more makes me extremely happy. 

Feedback like yours always is amazing and if you don’t mind me rambling about behind the scenes, I want to elaborate a bit: 

With meta stories like this I’m always a bit hesitant about posting them, because I fear they “won’t be enjoyed” as much as “the other cool fics” out there. ;) It’s why I try to keep them short too, even though 3,5 k words aren’t short at all. They take effort just as much as 3,5k words of “actual fanfic”, consume time (so much time) and commitment. In Germany we have the word “Herzblut” which translates as heart’s blood, and is a phrase for just that: commitment and dedication, the feeling of pouring all your energy and love and passion into something. And writing about these two awkward guys, no matter the outcome, is like this for me. Because it’s my buffer and something to talk about with friends who share the same passion.

I could go further and ask: What is “actual fanfic”? ;) Does it have to have a plot? :) And why write character studies or meta to begin with? Thoughts like I wrote in this fic are what I recently enjoy most in stories, so much more than any action, and for me, they are fanfic. It is fan made. It is creative, gives us more details about our favourite character(s), and it can speak volumes about how a writer sees their characters. Meta also gives me a great creativity boost for my own, actual plotted stories, because a character’s trains of thoughts happen to inspire me most, not to mention that this kind of characterisation is the foundation on which a story stands and shines or because of which it falls. They also are a powerful instrument. Especially Eren’s voice has a way of pulling me in as it did in here. It’s so forceful and I constantly have to watch out that he won’t run me over with his straightforward, sometimes odd and almost ridiculous, logic of his—like you said so well—intriguing mind. They make me come up with the plot in my head as I go along and the beauty in that is that it can be a different story every time I read it, depending on how I feel that day. It simply has a wild will of its own that a fully described plot outline sometimes doesn’t.

I will continue writing meta like this. :) It helps me clear my head of tiny ideas that just aren’t enough for the kind of fanfic you talked about but that occupy my head, loudly overpowering other ideas that hopefully will make way for complex story lines and dialogue, with multiple chapters and moments that make me laugh and cry and gasp, even as I write them. Because those captivating, heartbreaking, and spirit-lifting stories I enjoy just as well. But sometimes they just won’t come to me clearly…and have to be “meta-ed out”. ;) 

Thank you so much again for your sweet feedback. I will definitely continue writing fic, with an actual story line and without. And until then please feel free to browse my AO3 if you crave for more. <3