#anyways saying all this bc going back through the first draft reminded me that my initial concept for this fic was 'alex and george | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dani-says-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

Myrtles Plantation

❥ Back to the Control Center

❥ Nate Hardy Masterlist

- note the reader is afraid of dolls in this one - also my love for Amanda spills through... a lot... but I think it adds character, spice, and humor, so I'm leaving it in

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Nate Hardy x fem!medium(?)reader

Summary: Based on this request

« could u do a nate x reader (in a relationship) at the haunted plantation?? like she sees something and amanda lets them know it was evil??? »

Thanks to this anon for reminding me this was in my drafts

Thank you for my first request anon!! so so so sorry it took so long!

I hope this is what you were looking for, I kinda went off the deep end with it lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: language, hauntings, evil spirits, creepy stuff, inconsistent capitalization, my disregard for run on sentences and “pRopEr gRammAr”, unedited ramble writings bc i just wanted to finally get it published for y’all, maybe incorrect timeline? technically? bc i can’t remember if Nate was in a video with Amanda before this one…

Dialogue Key:

Y/N

Nate

Sam

Colby

Amanda

Spirit Box

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

You and Nate were currently in his car, driving to the plantation for Sam and Colby's video.

Nate was nervous. That much was obvious from the tight, white-knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel. You could practically see the the tense emotions rolling off his skin in waves. You however, were practically buzzing in excitement.

You opened up the camera app on your phone to record a little clip. One you would either post to your instagram story soon, or you'd send it to Colby to put before the video... you hadn't really decided what you were going to say yet.

First, you brought the camera really close to your face, barely anything other than your forehead, eyebrows, and eyes in frame, "Ok so- I don't really know where this clip is going to be shared yet... or if it'll be out at all... but Nate is being boring and having a panic attack and I'm super excited and want to talk to someone about it."

You extended your arm, full face now in view as you smiled widely at the front facing camera, "Guess what!" you yelled, "We're filming with the boys again!" you spoke, flashing the camera to show Nate as he drove, "and that's not even the best part... drumroll please... the love of my freaking life is coming with us!" you squealed.

Nate's eyebrows furrowed, barely sparing a glance in your direction, instead keeping his eyes on the road, "Babe, you already showed me?"

"Oh not you." you scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You're just my boyfriend."

"Mhm..." he hummed, blinking a few times trying to figure what exactly it was he was failing to understand, "Yeah no. I don't get it N/N... pretty sure 'love of my life' and 'boyfriend' are the same thing."

You tilted your head pondering the thought for a moment, ultimately shaking your head innocently, "Nah, it can't be. There are two very different people that take up those positions."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yeah." you turned your gaze, meeting the side of his face,"You may be my boyfriend, and I love you so, so, so, very much..."

"But?"

"But.." you grinned turning to face the camera, "The love of my life is the wonderful and beautiful Amanda~" you sang, moving your phone forward once more blowing kisses at the screen.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so excited!" you yelled, shaking the screen for emphasis.

The brown haired male next to you laughed at your actions, "Babe, be careful, you're going to make 'em all dizzy."

"True" you shrugged, focusing your phone once more, "anyways, you've probably guessed it by now, but we're doing another investigation tonight!"

You flipped the camera, showing nothing but trees surrounding the vehicle, "We're currently in the middle of nowhere- but that's because this location is a little different than usual."

"Yeah, instead of like a house with like- other neighbors around it and stuff" Nate spoke up, "were going to a plantation, in the middle of just like- trees" he shivered awkwardly, hissing in discomfort, "so if we get in trouble or something there's nothing for miles."

You scoffed, pulling the view back on yourself, "Yeah I guess, but that's fine because nothing is going to go wrong!" you exclaimed happily

"Mhm, and how do you know that?"

You winked at the camera, patting the area over your chest, "I have a good feeling about it."

"Yeah ok then- remind me how you feel when we actually get there."

You laughed loudly at you boyfriend, finally getting a small crack of a smile across his lips. "Anyway, that's all for right now. See-you-all-when-we-get-there-bye-bye" you rushed, quickly ending the video.

As soon as he could tell you stopped recording, Nate spoke up, "now what was that for?"

"Updating the public" you shrugged, starting a quick conversation with Colby over text.

Hey~ might've just filmed a little intro clip for you

You're welcome of course

And you better use it

I put a lot of effort into it

Oh really?

Obviously

Send it over

I'll check it out

About 2 minutes later after your mini vlog went through, he responded

Oh yeah, thats going in

You're good if I do a little editing over it?

Ofc

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Later, when viewers clicked on the video, they would be greeted to a huge tone shift between the first 2-3 minutes of the video, versus the of it.

First, your little intro, which basically became a fan cam for Amanda. Bright hearts and anime blush- the whole nine yards.

Broken, of course, every once in a while with a freeze framing on your real partner. The video going gray scale, with rain and violin music playing in the background.

Then, hard cut straight to the footage outside the plantation. ━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Soon, the group of five were all stood before Myrtles plantation, waiting for the tour to begin.

Sam turned to Nate, camera pointed to him, "Are you excited?"

"Dude- I- just-" your boyfriend sighed dramatically, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes. You, however, could be seen lurching forward in laughter at his reaction, "It just like everytime you bring me on one of these."

You walked up, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm your breaths, "Yeah, so thats a no." you looked up at him, pouting when he met your gaze, "He's very nervous"

"You look terrified."

"I can tell by your- genuine face of excitement right now"

Nate forced a sarcastic smile on his face that turned out more of a grimace, "Oh yeah? This face? Right here?"

You struggled to hold back your laughter, "All excitement from him on the way up here"

He turned his head, looking down at you as you were still holding onto his shoulder, "You know, usually you're a bit more cautious about these things."

You shrugged, "But we have Amanda here this time," you gestured to her, "There's finally someone else to help me keep you guys from doing something stupid."

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

The five of you entered the house, deciding to take a quick look around before the tour guide arrived.

Almost immediately upon entering the door, something caught your attention- and no it wasn't the smell the boys were busy commenting on.

Hung on the wall of the foyer, there was a mirror. You couldn't quite put a finger on it, but you could tell there was something strange about it.

For now, you just assumed it was how dated the mirror looked. Nothing from today looked like that.

Soon, the boys called you over to the steps, wanting to take a peek upstairs. Sam and Colby had already made their way up with Nate following behind them, leaving you and Amanda still on the first floor.

"Hey" you tapped the blondes shoulder, "Just to- uh, to make sure... you feel that too, right?" you asked, looking up the stairwell.

She hummed, "Yeah, thats probably because of what happened on the 17th step."

You simply nodded enthusiastically despite having not clue what the significance of that specific step was, "Oh yeah of course. Just making sure I wasn't the only one feeling that sense of impending doom" you joked

Amanda laughed breathily at your phrasing, "Yeah, after events like that, they tend to leave a heavier, darker feel behind."

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

You didn't find out till later that night, it wasn't just a slip down the stairs, but a death on the 17th step.

Thanks a lot for leaving that out Sam.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

By the time you made it up the flight of stairs, the group had entered one of the bedrooms. Everyone was inside except for your boyfriend, who stood before the doorframe waiting for you.

"Hey babe..." he spoke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, grabbing your hand with the other, "so, just like a heads up, there's like... a shit ton of creepy ass dolls in there."

Your eyes widened looking up at him, "What?"

"Yeah, like the entire mantle?" he gestured with his hands, "Just- completely covered."

"I don't wanna go in there" you shook your head quickly, eyes still wide as saucers gripping his hand tighter.

"Just- just don't look to your right when we walk in?"

You squinted you eyes at him, "...why?"

Nate shrugged, "Oh you know, there might be one that is kinda-sorta positioned to look at you when enter." he spoke nonchalantly as he dragged you through the door.

You glared up at the brunette, "what?"

"By the way, we have to sleep here tonight-" the both of you heard from further in the room, "So someone is getting the room with the creepy doll staring at you."

You knew your friends- so without even thinking you threw your pointer finger up, touching your nose.

"Woah, woah, woah" you rushed when the other three looked in your direction with shit eating grins, "No I did it- it was Col-"

"Nope, I'm safe" the black haired man cut you off.

You looked up slowly, glare pointed directly at your shocked boyfriend, who hadn't done it in time. "I'm going to kill you."

You looked over his shoulder, seeing the dolls for the first time. You quickly dropped his hand running over past Amanda and out to the next room, "Nope! I just wont be sleeping with you."

Nate quickly followed, arms extended "Wait babe! No please! Don't leave me alone!" Leaving a laughing Sam and Colby behind, filming the entire thing.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

"Sam" you spoke up once the tour was over, "next time we do one of these things you've got to tell me more than just 'oh were going to a haunted mansion'" you mocked

"What's up?" he laughed, "What do you mean?"

"Oh you know" you gestured around, speaking with your arms, "yellow fever death child, owner of the house killed on the steps, poison murders, voodoo queen death, ghost mirrors-" you listed propping your hands on your hips, "I could go on and on."

"It's haunted Y/N, what did you expect?"

"Not this!" you shrieked.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Soon, the five of you began the investigation in Chloe's room, each wearing a set of clip on earrings. Thanks to your wonderful, amazing boyfriend, you and Amanda were wearing the hoops.

In addition to the earrings, Amanda came with some gifts with the four of you. she gave Colby a crystal to help amplify his empathic skills, and evil eye bracelets for both Nate and Sam.

"These are just because I felt bad getting something for Colby and not you two." she spoke handing over the bracelets.

The raven haired man gasped, bringing his hands up to his chest, "She has a favorite!"

Nate placed his hands up on his waist, popping out his hip, "Well that's ok." he shot back sassily, dangly earrings swishing by his neck.

The blonde girl however, hummed in agreeance with Colby reaching back into her bag, "Yep, but it's not you." setting off scandalized gasps from the two men and hysteric laughter from sam. Amanda approached you with a small bag usually used for jewelry.

You took it smugly, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek, "Thank you m'love"

"of course darling" she played along, "I heard you also have some abilities, so I picked out three things to help" she spoke as you opened the bag, pouring the items in your hand, "Ok, so this one is Labradorite" she pointed to the darker, slightly iridescent one, "It is one of the best crystals for enhancing abilities, it extends your awareness, helps you connect with the spiritual world and can be very grounding and helpful for mediums." she moved to the brighter crystal, "This one is Angelite, the same as Colby's-"

"oh." the mentioned male scoffed playfully, crossing his arms, "I see how it is... I feel very special now."

"-and the last one," Amanda pointed to a pitch black stone that was attached to a corded necklace, "is Black Tourmaline, which is really good at protecting and shielding you from bad energy. It can basically cleanse you from any unwanted energy that comes your way."

"Ok!" sam exclaimed, "Now that we've handed out the gifts and the pity gifts" he raised his wrist up to the camera, making the rest of you laugh, Lets get on to the investigation!"

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

The group decided to move on to the seance room after very little seemed to be happening within Chole's room.

"I hated this room earlier" Nate shivered next to you, "It just... I don't know, it's just weird."

You nodded as you followed him in, "Yeah? Now imagine feeling heavy when you walk in"

"Really?" he looked down at you, "What do you mean?"

"It's just like what Amanda said earlier," you shrugged softly, "it's just very heavy in here, it feels tight."

You let go of Nate's hand, leaving him as he went to look at a painting in the corner, approaching Amanda instead. You stood next to the blonde as she looked up at the mirror that faces the one in the other parlor.

You shifted you gaze between her and the mirror quickly, "So... whatcha lookin at?"

She gestured you to stand next to her facing the mirror, never once moving her own gaze from the glass, "so look up there," she pointed at a specific area, "and unfocus you eyes- almost like youre trying to look through the mirror" she explained.

Within a few seconds she could feel you tense beside her, causing the blonde to grin, "you see it?"

"yeah" you breathed, nodding slowly, "yeah I see it"

"Yo wait" Nate whipped around, "see what? exactly?" he moved up behind you, placing his head over your shoulder, squinting his eyes to find whatever the two of you seemed to see, "I dont see it"

"I keep seeing things move behind me" Amanda spoke

"I cant see anything specific" you added, "but I can see shapes moving" you explained gesturing up to point in the direction of the areas you spoke of, "like I saw something move like this" you dragged you hand, "and something over there"

Amanda hummed in affirmation, "yep, where you just pointed, between this wall in the candles, there's someone" she moved her other hand, "and over here, where you saw something move, there was some kids."

"thats crazy"

"are you feeling anything right now?" Nate questioned, as Colby moved to flip off the lights.

The both of you answered simultaneously, gaving very opposite answers,

"No."

"Yes."

and for the first time in what felt like hours, you and Amanda broke your gazes from the mirror turning to each other instead.

"You really dont feel that?"

she shook her head, "no, I'm seeing them. I feel that someone is here, like I have full goosebumps"

"N/N" Nate placed a hand on your shoulder, "what are you feeling?"

You looked back to the mirror, looking for anymore blurs, only to see nothing, "It felt like- happy? I guess? Like you know that feeling of when you'd go to the park when you were younger and you were just like- excited? it felt like that."

Amanda nodded slowly in thought, "well, that could be the kids I saw, they did look pretty happy."

"but now" you spoke up once more, causing the boy's eyebrows to furrow, "now it just feels crowded. I cant pull one emotion from another. Its so weird."

"the energy in here is insane" Amanda agreed, "I feel like if we did a seance at the seance table- we could get some pretty gnarly stuff"

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

So, that what the group did. you broke out the spirit box, and immediately you were greeted with several hellos.

"Is there any sign you could give us of who were talking to?" Sam spoke up, "a name, an occupation?"

Kate

Colby looked up with squinted brows, confused at the sound "what did that say"

"it said Kate" you responded from next to Nate, hand on his arm, "im pretty sure it said Kate"

"yeah" Amanda added, "I wrote Kate right before it said that"

"is it true that this room is a portal?"

you stepped back at the question, making Nate look to you in concern "guys I just got really nautious-"

Evil

"oh no-no-no- I don't like that" you rush out, placing yourself on the other side of the doorframe, "i'm definitely not a fan of that"

Sam, Colby, Nate and Amanda continued to speak to the spirit box within the room while you stayed in the hallway. Nate moved from the group and closer to you to make sure you were ok.

"Can you tell us how many spirits are in here with us right now?"

three

from the doorway, you couldve sworn you saw a flash of green reflect in one of the glass window panes. Green, like the head wrap Chloe was said to wear.

"do you think.." you trailed off moving closer to your boyfriend, "could Chloe be one of them?" you whispered.

he stepped out of the room upon seeing your expression. You seemed paler than usually and he could almost see you shaking with wide glassy eyes staring back at him. He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back to give you some semblance of comfort.

Nate, his chin resting in your head, repeated your words louder to for the group still inside the room to hear, "Was that Chloe?"

Look

you whimpered, pressing your face into his chest, "nope. tell Amanda to look at the window-"

"-that candle just got so bright at the far end-"

"-yeah that one." you mumbled, "the window by the candles. I saw something green over there."

the brown hared man nodded, raising his voice to cut off the trio 's conversation on the candle's, "Amanda? N/N said to check around that window. She said she saw something green flash overthere earlier."

"Yo! What?" sam exclaimed excitedly, moving to you both with the camera while Amanda looked by the window pane, "What happened? what did you-"

he was cut off by Nate shaking his head quickly above you, "not right now" he whispered to the blonde, "later."

Sam nodded understandly, moving to film Amanda by the window, "You see anything?"

"no, not anymore." she stated, "its all clear, whatever it was must've moved by now."

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

A few rooms and a short reenactment later, it was time for solo investigations. Well, at least it was solo for Sam and Colby, you, Nate, and Amanda were able to go out on the porch together.

The three of you were given the spot where Chloe's picture was taken, and had decided to take turns doing the Estes Method. Amanda was first up in the rocking chair.

"I've got some information"

"woah" Nate turned to the camera to you, who was laughing softly from shock.

"We didnt even ask anything yet," you looked into the camera lens, "and were already getting answers? this is crazy"

Nate hummed, "Yeah this is insane- what type of information do you have?"

"lets go"

"Go where?" you questioned, "where do you want to go?"

after a few minutes you received no response. you shrugged, looking over to Nate, "I don't know, you ask a question" you laughed, "it doesn't like me I guess"

He shrugged at your statement, readying his next question "Chloe, did you put yourself at risk to get the information?"

"ready"

you squinted at one another, "are you ready to put yourself at risk?"

"for the information?" Nate added on.

"yes"

you shook your head with a smile, " I guess she's ready ti talk"

"yes"

"Chloe was it you that they photographed in this alleyway?"

"Accident"

"You didnt intend to be in the photo?"

You turned around, looking off the balcony as Amanda shivered, brushing her arms, "something just touched me"

Nate turned his head, looking your direction as you gazed out onto the dark field, "Babe?" he whispered, "You alright?"

"yeah" you muttered, scanning the yard, "yeah, I just got that feeling that something was watching me." you shook your head and rolled your shoulders, "it was probably nothing."

Nate nodded slowly, continuing his questioning of Amanda rather than you, glancing at your from the corner of his eye to make sure you were alright. "Chloe, does guilt keep you here?"

"I knew it was wrong"

You and Nate brought Amanda out of the trance to add a trigger object, things for more intense from there. The answers seemed more and more on the nose, and the small inkling you had of being watched quickly increased tenfold.

You soon felt like you spent less time engaged in the investigation, and more time peering over your shoulder.

"it was the family name"

"Woodruff? Did you hear Woodruff?" Nate rushed, "are you trying to tell us about the Woodruff family?"

"It went silent" Amanda exclaimed, "like full complete silence for a full 'Mississippi' and then it started again"

"it was in the house"

"Are you tired"

"I hope you don't mind" Nate mentioned, gesturing too the plant, "We have oleander in Amanda's hand-"

"I know"

"-was the death an accident or was it an act of revenge?"

"Nate" you whisper, looking out into the yard, "I...I don't think this is a good idea anymore."

his eyebrows furrowed, peering at you while keeping the camera on Amanda, "Why? What's up"

you sighed, "I just- I think we should stop. something doesn't feel right." you tore your gaze from the dark, looking up to him, "something's wrong-"

"its time to wrap up-"

The blonde spoke removing the blindfold and headphones, "I swear, it said, 'its time to wrap up'"

"See!" you gasped hitting the man's arm, "told you!"

Amanda looked between the two of you, both of your eyes were wide and your posture screamed that you were both worried, "what's going on?"

Nate set the camera down on the bannister, still filming, as he went to get all the equipment together, "N/N was just talking about how something feels wrong and we should quit." he looked up at the blonde, "she's been feeling weird this whole time"

The two continue talking while you walk further up the porch. The feeling of being watched became stronger and stronger as you surveyed the yard, eventually catching a glimpse of something off to the side. You leaned over the wood and squinted, trying your best to get a better look.

Soon, you saw it.

"Guys" you muttered, trying again louder when they didn't respond "Guys!"

Nate looked up seeing how far down the porch you'd wandered, "N/N? what's going on?"

you looked at them eyes wide, "There's someone out here." you panicked, "please, please tell me you're almost done because there's someone in the yard and they're getting closer."

Nate straighted his back, looking into the grass too. he didnt see anything at the moment, but you were so far down and it was dar enough that it could simply be that he was too far. He waved his arm gesturing you over to them, "N/N I need you to come down here right now"

For all he knew, that was some psyco trying to add a new spirit to the home. That spirit, would not be you if he had anything to say about it.

"oh my god" you yelled, running up beside the two, "its getting closer."

The brown haired man moved to shield the two of you, shoving the equipment you three brought out to you an Amanda, only keeping a flashlight, "Go inside."

"but-"

"Y/N go inside."

"Wait" Amanda spoke up, peeking around the man's shoulder, "to the left?"

you were shaking at this point, "yeah, It followed me down from that side"

The blonde moved forward, pulling the flashlight from Nate's grip, illuminating the patch to see nothing there, "There?"

you tilted your head in confusion, "well... yeah? it was-"

Amanda turned off the flashlight and the both of you were greeted with the dark figure once more, this time it was only about 10 feet from the railing.

"oh my god" you breathed, heart hammering in your chest.

The urgency in your boyfriend began to dissipate, believing that while a spirit following his girlfriend wasnt the best- it was better than her being followed by an actual crazy person.

However the seriousness of the blonde nearly doubled once she caught sight of the glowing red eyes. "You are not allowed to be here." she spoke stern, making you stiffen even further, "you do not have permission to follow us or come any closer."

"Amanda, what is happening?" you spoke, eyes trained on the humanoid figure before you.

"move back to the door" the blonde spoke softly to you and nate, before strengthening her voice once more, "You do not have the right to follow us into the home, you must stay out here."

Once the door closed, the blonde watched the figure through the window until it dissolved into the air.

"you see that stuff all the time?" you stuttered, clinging to Nates arms that wrapped around your waist, "like thats what a ghost is? I've never actually seen something like that before"

"no." the blonde spoke turning to face you, "that... Y/N, that wasnt a spirit. that was a demon."

#nate hardy x reader #nate hardy imagine #sam and colby imagine #request #nate hardy

243 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 3 months ago

Note

I wanted to start writing fics and I have an idea of one I’d want to write but I’m unsure of even where to start. Could you please tell me how your process helps you? Any advice would be greatly appreciate!

Thank you!

hey, cutie pie! what a special message you've sent me. i'm feeling incredibly honored - whether you sent this message or not as a compliment, i don't wanna know, this could-be delusion is very flattering. you think i'm a well enough writer to ask advice from? 10 points to Slytherin.

it was Ernest Hemingway who said, “there is nothing to writing. all you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

unfortunately, i'm one of those people that says, "just start writing". i know this is like throwing you in the ocean without a life vest, but i hope i can teach you how to swim (or at the least, tread water) by breaking this down enough for yah.

please note i am NOT a professional - so everything below is to be taken with a grain of salt

first - welcome to the author community! where we all think we have to publish Pulitzer prize winning stories - every. single. time! and where we think our work is TRASH - every. single. time!

storytelling is a skill that you don't have to be "born with", but you do have to practice and experiment with. even seasoned writers need palette refreshers and to "return to the story drawing board." to me, writing is universally one of the greatest artistic mediums this world will ever know. stories transcend time; think folklore and mythology that date way way way back Before Christ (BC). stories can (mostly) only be built upon and altered - just look at the Bible! written text, yes, but it's diluted by X number of "translations" through the years, scholars, people, factions, economies.

anyways. i think it's REALLY cool you want to write and i honestly love that for you. i hope it's as beneficial to you as it is me.

best piece of advice i can give? be proud of yourself. confidence really shows through writing; it's not being arrogant or cocky, it's knowing you have a story to tell and being determined to tell it. trust me, that energy translates. when you're happy to write, audiences are happy to read; nobody is ever expecting you (or any fanfic writer) to be Chaucer or Shakespeare or Brontë or Poe or Fitzgerald or Tolstoy or Tolkien or Dickens or Eliot or Morrison, they want YOU to be YOU and to read YOUR story.

so have faith in yourself. have pride. find motivation and inspiration.

🍒 general rules of thumb

🍒 write everything down!

it doesn't matter where - just write! every! thing! down! write in a: -> Word document -> Tumblr draft -> good ol' fashioned pen and paper -> Sharpie and cafe napkin and for my Apple people: -> the notes app or Pages document

🍒 always write out the plot - doesn't matter if it's complete, just write it down! it's a tool, and trust me, when writing, think of it as your ankle being shattered and this written plot document is the crutch. it's extremely important to have a general idea of what your story's plot looks like so you can decide what details should be used to beef up the story's authenticity. this will help visualize the web you need to weave. it's a visual end goal. it's the reminder where your story is going. give yourself enough space to add to this idea, to expand it.

i prefer bullet points. experiment to find what works for you!

so, in a structure similar to educational notes, establish the general premise / main idea / main details. this is where you're going to answer (no, not literally), "why write this story? what's the point? what even IS the story? like, what's the plot?" -> if you ponder why you're writing a story and at any point, the answer is along the lines of being self indulgent, please understand, that is valid! write that shit!

🍒 notes are a safe space to write out ideas you might be interested in revisiting. so label everything because you'll revisit often - whether for the next story idea or not.

🍒 Google ― -> what you know to strengthen literary frame. allow this to include refreshment of writing devices. -> any and all words; keep a list of running adjectives, nouns, dramatic diction to give your story personality. -> definitions - even the words you already know! -> what you don't know! -> synonyms!

🍒 don't pay attention to word counts! 5k word fics are just as valid as 1.3k, even 896 word fics! fuck word counts, just tell the story.

🍒 write and rewrite. this is where writing becomes daunting, it's so fucking scary. but all you're doing is trying to find your voice, so write your drafts, then rewrite - rewrite - rewrite - and for good measure, rewrite, rewrite, aaaaand probably rewrite twice more. just allow yourself room to stretch and grow as an author when new and altered ideas come to mind - and when these new and altered ideas come to mind, write! them! down!

🍒 writing is supposed to be fun! 🍒 writing supports your emotional vulnerability! 🍒 be open to inspiration everywhere! 🍒 give yourself time and be kind! 🍒 encourage changes of thought and new directions! 🍒 don't minimize yourself to conform with what is "thought" to fit certain criteria - take authentic risks!

🍒 nonlinear and chaotic writing process

🍒 so... kinda first thing is done internally:

what's the plot? what was the idea formed in my head, inspiring me to write this story? what's the climax? is this idea able to turn into a story? -> i write it down.

which fandom? does my story idea fit into "canon timelines" or the fandom's setting? more or less, i determine if this is an AU or not. -> i write it down.

declare a muse i think BEST suits my story idea. -> i write it down (call that commitment).

now, i like to beef up the plot / climax details, either after the initial idea or establishment of muses. these are the nonnegotiable "dramatic factors" i think the story needs. -> i write it down.

🍒 then i just start writing the actual draft / structured story. i know, i know, i know! this is the worst advice and lots of authors say it. but it just means to start! it means you can start anywhere. it's your story, you're telling it - so you can literally just start because a story can grow in all directions.

🍒 personally, i use the fuck out of skeleton drafts (see below) because i like to revisit and build, restructure, and let seemingly random ideas take natural form almost every single time i sit down to write (which, for the sake of my mental health, is almost everyday).

🍒 i endeavor for mysterious, captivating, intriguing opening sentences or paragraphs and titles. so i'm constantly editing and Googling words, definitions, synonyms, phrases.

🍒 i draw inspiration from everywhere; sometimes from personal conversation and experiences, other books, quotes from movies and songs.

🍒 i strive for authenticity - i personally think it's what hooks an audience, when they can see even the SMALLEST fraction of themself in the story. so i challenge myself to get criminally vulnerable and open - so a lot of my trauma is processed through writing, too.

🍒 i like to employ common literary devices, such as metaphors, proverbs, iteration, personification. but that's a personal choice.

🍒 i often draft the story and then leave it for a bit to "marinate" because at the most random and often, inopportune, times, i'll have new ideas i want to add. so i leave myself time to revisit which can get frustrating, but it's necessary for my security to publish.

🍒 dialogue is "just conversation with a purpose". when writing dialogue, i often say the words in my head OR (as embarrassing as it might sound) out loud with the chracter's accents and TRY to convey that in my writing. so i use a lot of slang or incomplete sentences or predicates or accents - in the form of dropping the "g" from a lot of "-ing" ending words.

🍒 I DO NOT CONDONE THIS NOR ENCOURAGE THIS! but i'm a fiend and smoke a LOT. and i drink an unhealthy amount of coffee - so that def influences my writing whether i like it or not. this is 1000000% a personal choice and in no way, shape, or form am i encouraging anyone to smoke and / or give themselves kidney stones for the sake of writing.

🍒 i'm decently selective about my stories, in the sense of if i truly cannot connect or find influence to write, i won't. i can't. so i've been doing better about if a plot doesn't flow the way i want, i try not to force it and embrace the new direction. 🍒 HOWEVER - i still like to challenge myself, so, if i find writing has become like pulling teeth, i'll walk away and revisit at another time. i'll try to tackle from a different angle BEFORE giving up completely. yikes.

🍒 being said, walk away when writing feels frustrating and exasperated.

🍒 real life experience is your friend - "write what you know".

🍒 i'm criminally insecure and don't use beta readers nor editors so i rawdog every story and audience reaction. but i hear they're wildly helpful!!! do what feels right!!! it's your art!!!

🍒 skeleton drafts

when in school, teachers, professors, educators might have students structure essays as a "draft". maybe they asked for paragraphs to be organized in a certain way - intro., x3 body paragraphs, conclusion, bibliography - and more specifically, the paragraph structure: opening sentence stating summarized opinion / reason for thesis support, supporting specifics that explain the thesis, and then conclude on a summary of why the listed support supports the thesis.

whatever it is, i don't adhere to some parameters. i've always pissed off my educators because my "working drafts" never made sense, but whatever "final draft" turned in for a grade, did! make it make sense!

so i use "skeleton drafts".

it's where i try to outline the main ideas of my plot to ensure i tell the story i originally thought of. think of these as "plot points", almost like the ribcage of a skeleton. then i add certain supporting details between these ribs; the meat of the story.

i like getting the majority of the story outlined. i use bullet points, i try to use "dividers" or "headers" if i need a time jump, but i want the general idea down so that it's easier to add onto later if i so choose.

so, yeah, i don't "draft" as some American educators might approve of. the actual process is too tedious and i hate it. but that's just me. other authors MIGHT recommend traditional drafting, but i won't. i say do what feels natural to you, but still find a way to rewrite the story you want until it BECOMES the story you want.

"skeleton drafts" establish the plot and pose as major pillars to help propel the story's flow. "skeleton drafts" are like a check list: being the plot points framing the story's structure, as well as details (no matter how small) the story needs.

being said - using skeleton drafts results in a few different draft / note pages in different places so tread carefully. it can get very confusing and annoying, so, it's not for everyone. i'm just chaotic and all my writings are like a tornado.

i hope this helps in even the slightest of ways. thank you for sending your message - again, i'm deeply flattered. i apologize it took so long to respond but i was doubting myself and what to write.

listen, poppet. keep writing. try, try again. challenge yourself. and the VERY best of luck! i hope you fall in love with writing, and in turn, it falls in love with you!

come back anytime! if you so desire, please, send me whatever you write - i'd love to read it!

endless forehead kisses and all my love 🖤

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chayscribbles · 1 year ago

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chayscribbles’ monthly writing update ☆ august/september 2023 double feature

☆ STATISTICS.

words written: 4273 in august; none in september BUT that's because i did a lot of revising

projects worked on: Gemini Heist in august; Andromeda Rogue in september, then procrastinated so hard i ended up writing a few paragraphs on Third, Secret Wip

proudest accomplishment: i compiled all my AR1 beta feedback without giving in to the urge to set the book on fire and also myself

books read: Network Effect (Murderbot Diaries #5) by Martha Wells

☆ GENERAL COMMENTS.

so basically i started off august decently solid, working on gemini heist while andromeda rogue was off being torn apart by the betas. (i'm joking. it didn't get torn apart. i think you guys were being way too nice actually.)

and then all kinds of shit hit the fan in my personal life all at once in mid-august. both good and bad. it was a lot.

anyways the first half of september was spent recovering from all that, BUT i took a week off work mid-september to catch my breath and also get back into writing, and it was really good for me.

on another note! i am very seriously considering making an etsy shop for some of my art, because as much as i loathe the thought of monetizing my hobbies, we are living in a cost of living crisis, and i don't wanna be in my ice water soup era forever, ha. anyways stay tuned. (and if you think it would be a good idea/you think yourself or others would be interested in buying things PLEASE LET ME KNOW. EXPLICITLY. because otherwise i will assume no one cares and the idea will fizzle out.)

more specific wip-related comments + featured excerpt below.

☆ COMMENTS: ANDROMEDA ROGUE (draft 2 editing)

i went through all the beta comments during my week off and while i am glad it doesn't look like i'll have to do any more BIG rewrites, editing sucks and i want to give up.

☆ COMMENTS: THE GEMINI HEIST (draft 0.5. okay fine it's draft 1 but i feel better about myself if i call it draft 0.5 okay)

honestly when i was working on this feels sooo long ago i don't even remember what there is to say?

i hit 20K at some point in august. i think.

OH YEAH i "finished" act 2/7. the quotation marks are because i absolutely did not finish it, i only finished writing all the main plot-relevant scenes and skipped anything else. which means there's like a whole chapter and a half that haven't actually been written bc they're probably gonna be exposition or character building stuff that i haven't figured out yet and i'm hoping will be easier once i know what actually happens in the rest of this story. (reminder that i am a plantser.)

anyways i suspect this wip will be going dormant again for a while as i focus on getting AR ready for publishing. (sidenote it's been over a year since i started the GH draft and i feel like i've done fuck all on it besides come up with useless lore and make extremely specific playlists. world's slowest writer. the playlists slap, though.)

☆ FEATURED EXCERPT.

uh have this random snippet of Euna about to pop off!

Somewhere far, far, away, Leo was shouting, “Just get your ass out of there, Li!” but her voice seemed muffled in Euna’s ears, blocked out by the rage that had been steadily mounting ever since that guard shot her arm and ruined the fight for her. All she could hear was the blood rushing through her own ears, the buzz of the guard’s electrified gauntlets, the crackle of the electricity in her own hand. She reared her good fist back and slammed it into the guard’s face. Their nose made a sickening crunch against Euna’s knuckles. Blood flowed down over their mouth and chin as they staggered back, but Euna wasn't done. Her right arm, still spouting sparks, swung into the side of their head, finally bringing them down. Before they could get up again, Euna dropped on top of them, pinning them to the ground with her knees on their chest. She grabbed their shoulders and yanked their upper body off the floor, preparing to slam them down one last time— Purple light surrounded her. For a frightening second, she couldn’t move. Then she was thrown off the guard and dragged, upside-down, through the air towards the exit.

☆ TAGLISTS. let me know if you want to be added/removed to any of them.

general taglist:

@nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @onomatopiya @quilloftheclouds @ashen-crest @writeblrfantasy @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @extra-magichours @avi-why @lefttigerobservation @chazzawrites @bardolatrycore @innocentlymacabre

andromeda trilogy taglist:

@bebewrites @nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @onomatopiya @akindofmagictoo @quilloftheclouds @nora-theteawriter @ashen-crest @corpsepng @writeblrfantasy @toboldlywrite @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @cheerfulmelancholies @extra-magichours @writeouswriter @cilly-the-writer @lefttigerobservation @rose-bookblood @drowsy-quill @chazzawrites @cynic-and-chief @enchanted-lightning-aes @aesa @outpost51

gemini heist taglist:

@florraisons @akindofmagictoo @cream-and-tea @nicola-writes @memento-morri-writes @antique-symbolism @rose-bookblood @afoolandathief @pepperdee @avi-why @zonnemaagd @chazzawrites @analogued @enchanted-lightning-aes @innocentlymacabre @kahvilahuhut @celestepens @cilly-the-writer @extra-magichours @onomatopiya @outpost51

#chayscribbles writing update #wip andromeda trilogy #wip andromeda rogue #wip gemini heist

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yourstrulyrika · 8 months ago

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do you write for sherry birkin? if so, can i please request something like, you know how she’s often experimented on and so she tells her girlfriend (reader) she can’t orgasm / cum fast when she tries it herself so reader takes care of it, and it somehow takes many tries until she gets sherry to reach her orgasm.

thank you <3

HEY NONNIE!! took me a bit. BUT I AM BACK!! also i am still working in my theme it’s taking some time IM SORRY i still cant decide for shit. to the other rqs in my inbox no worries i’ll write them all soon!! SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG i have sm works in my drafts. I know it takes me an eternity to write my motivation and health suck. sorry if it sucks i never wrote for sherry so yeah >:(

anyway!!! :3 here u go. a reminder this is re6 sherry

sherry birkin (RE6) x reader

i think i’m gonna choose her as my theme what do yall think :3 anyway to the actual fic

no warnings, just fluff and smut and comfort bc sherry deserves the world! sliiight mention of angst but thats rlly it !!

Sherry went through literal hell back then, and you know. poor girl struggled so much with getting into a relationship, she doesn’t know how she even got you. she thinks she’s the luckiest girl in the world once you date her.

but sex? well that’s another topic. you never touched it first because you figured out it’s a sensitive topic, maybe too much for her, it doesn’t matter. you just didn’t touch it.

but she never touched it either. she was scared. what if you won’t like her? what if you’ll get frustrated? the amount of experiments, various medication, god knows what, but it all turned her body into a mess deep inside. she just can’t cum on her own. nothing works. she thought her body is broken so she just�� gave up.

she tries to give you subtle signs though. rubbing against you, playing with your fingers, tugging at you to touch her, but you just thought she’s clingy. how wrong you were though. she eventually got the guts to ask you— it was so shy, hesitant, but she pushed through. you thought it’s cute.

and that’s how she ended up with you between her legs, her legs on your shoulders as you devour her. you don’t mind her taking some time to come. it’s not her fault even if she keeps mumbling it is her fault and all that, no it’s not, end of the talk.

she’s insecure— feeling good, but insecure. she’s tugging on your hair, her legs squishing your head as your mouth works wonders on her. her mind feels hazy and empty, seeing literal stars. the thing is, even when you’re making her feel so many sensations at once, she just can’t come. it goes on for some time— she’s feeling it, feeling like she’s on edge, but something’s locking her away from actually cumming. she starts to grow sad and frustrated at one moment, thinking you’ll start to grow tired of her.

“I.. I think we shou—“ before she can finish her sentence though, you shut her up with a pat on her thigh. you say it’s okay, but what if it’s not and you’re just saying that? isn’t it frustrating? it’s definitely frustrating to her because she could spend a hour with fingers inside her and it just wouldn’t work. she would always give up in the middle of it and just go to bed. but you’re determined to make her feel good, to make her cum. you don’t pull away from her, instead bringing her closer so you’re buried between her thighs. you lap at her cunt, sliding your tongue in and out of her hole while rubbing her clit. her thighs start to tense up, head leaning back, and she’s feeling like she’s about to cum. the moment doesn’t come fast though. it takes a damn eternity for her to actually cum, but when she does, it feels so intense. she didn’t cum in so long, if she ever did. she cries out, her juices squirting out on your face. you drink it all eagerly— and she’s so sensitive when you do. she never felt like this because no one, including her, bothered to make her cum. it’s a hard task to begin with. but she’s so grateful for it too. she feels it for like ten minutes at least, and then feels a bit sore after so you go gentle on her, peppering her cute face with kisses and giving her a warm bath later. you don’t even care about your own pleasure, but she does. when you clean her up and all that, she clings up to you, tugging at your own panties before putting her head on your shoulder, rubbing her cheek against yours before mumbling a soft

“You thought I won’t return the favor?” she places a kiss your neck.

#sherry birkin #sherry birkin smut #resident evil smut #resident evil

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youcantwaitforsnow · 2 years ago

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12.27.22

#December Posts

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sunfortune · 3 years ago

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anyway now that i got my jokes out my actual thots on the batman (2022). wanna preface this by saying i love that bitch. even when they do stupid shit with him im like 😔....ok but thats still the bestie tho... i am not immune to stupid depressed goth man. that being said: he is a stupid depressed goth man and we need to keep that in mind

bruces first appearance walking through the line of cops and they are just quietly letting him pass.....immediately had me like...not this </3...i JUST sat down. it reminded me of the tfatws finale (hate crime) when the cops let bucky through and call him sergeant or whatever the hell. was sitting there 5 mins in like [deflated balloon]

BUT then they show how the other higher up cop man was not cool with him at all. and this was not something that was in the norm so i was like mmmh. okay not so bad... [will get back to this]

i LOVED loved the first look at gotham. the pan from "manhattan" to "newark" to the wayne building in the center establishing gotham. litchrally <333333. im biased but SO big brained to me that this rendition of gotham was new york AND new jersey. they said THE worst of both worlds. love wins <3

i really loved bruce and jim. i feel like Sooo few people have actually talked about them which is ??? bc they were So funny. (also probably the most grounded relationship he had). they were litchrally like that not to worry i have a permit ron swanson meme but it was bruce saying "not to worry i have a permit" and then jim stepping out from behind him and saying "he can do what he wants" lfmdgjnjhdf

back to the cop point. unfortunately my earlier "oh this is just a one time thing. its alright <3." desperate cling to hope was dashed as the movie went on bc it was not a one time thing

i wish it was more hush hush with just him and jim. and not him and jim with 20 other cops casually also there

like the reason jims character is so important in just the batman universe in general is bc hes the ONLY one remotely trustworthy in a completely corrupt system. and when you have scenes like the "not all cops" as a hopeful anecdote with like 150 cops. and then THE BATMAN bringing the bad guy or whatever out to Them. its like come on....

i had some minor qualms about some of the detective stuff being too tell instead of show. where bruce is just super smart so he knows the answer immediately and then he just states it and thats that. but that honestly didnt really diminish my overall experience with the movie.

i WISH they gave selina more

feel like selinas backstory was not only interesting but also a crucial part of the plot on paper but i feel like they just didnt really give her character the care it couldve had in execution...?

one thing especially was some of the dialogue they gave her felt like a first draft that they were gonna come back and brush up. but then they DONT. and just send her out there like that

there first meeting as the bat and the cat when he catches her in that house and they fight was SOO Good tho

also maybeeee gonna give them the benefit of the doubt there bc it is the First movie. if batman is in his cringe and fail era. selina can be in her early days too. but like i really REALLY hope they do give her more in the future. bc the potential is sooo untapped

also i complain about this always but. society when directors put some effort into their romantic subplots...come on </3 😔 stop letting sexy people go to waste

saw an interview clip of rob pattinson and zoe kravitz earlier and theyre actually so fun and had so much chemistry but so little of that was utilized in the actual movie </3 even tho matt reeves had Every Thing at his disposal to make it really hit </3333 why would you do that to meeee

next. i kind of Loved the reveal that thomas wayne got caught up in some bullshit. i just think the "bruces parents were perfect" narrative was kind of boring. and i like how they maintained that they were good people but. gotham is gotham. stuff happens

what i did NOT like about the thomas wayne reveal was the implication that the waynes murders were a result of him getting caught up in that mess?? i think the "they were mugged by a random guy. wrong place wrong time" is integral to the entirety of the mess that is BATMAN so that implication was just personally not my cup of tea. even if it was just speculation

there is some ways the conclusion kind of needed more for me. ill probably make another post for that. but i think like there shouldve been some realization that bruce wayne can also help gotham with his money. not just the batman with his fists. there were too many points heavily implying it throughout (the mayor, the riddlers bit about his dads promise, selina talking about the rich) and then it never happened (but also maybe next movie bc they prolly wanted to focus more on /the batman/ in this one)

i did Love the concluding point that violence will not heal gotham

i loved the juxtaposition between when he helped that man in the train station in the beginning and he said “don’t hurt me!” even tho he was trying to /help him/ bc of how he worked and presented himself with the ending when he used the flare to guide everyone to safety and then that women on the stretcher not wanting to let his hand go bc she trusted he Would keep her safe and he also held on to her as long as he could🥺

next. i LOVED bruces characterization. despite all my points its what made me Still love the movie so much.

reiterating. i am not immune to stupid depressed goth man.

the scene where the bat mobile lit up in the dark alley. was litchrally sitting there like 😭💖💘💕💓💕❣️❤️ my best friend for real

him being so standoffish and uncomfortable as bruce wayne while everyone is like omg its gothams prince. hiiiiii <3

the scene where he goes in for the kiss with selina but then gets awkward and cant go through with it. obsessed. lmfao

less suave playboy more awkward loser.

i think his characterization is the biggest brained aspect of this interpretation of batman

it makes the entire movie for me

in conclusion i had so much fun with it even if it wasnt like perfect. though i think i do get people who didn't like it. i dont know how i wouldve felt about if i didnt already love batman. and thats like a valid criticism. especially in the franchise saturated market rn where you already need to have an investment to really enjoy something that is seemingly new. but i mean thats DCs problem. i had fun and thats whats really important <3

#dont rebl0g #long post #anyway whos up lmfdkgnjs #batman spoilers #the batman spoilers

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aizawasthot · 4 years ago

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just the way you are | kaminari d. & shinsou h.

warnings: body insecurity + insecurities in general

i’m sorry this took too long🥺🥺🥺 this has been sitting in my drafts for two months bc i feel like it’s so bad ): but here’s a soft hc for @cutekindacrazy’s req <3

kaminari

you were always so bubbly around everyone, and that was one of the main reasons why denki liked you

you matched his energy and he absolutely loves the fact that you’re always making everyone’s day brighter by just being there

you were high school sweethearts, and he’s so in love with you even after all these years

but once he started his pro career, he’s been very busy and so of course, you happen to feel a little unnoticed

he was getting brand promotion after another, so of course he’d have to model, and rarely does he model alone

he was always with other female models who look gorgeous and beautiful. he was surrounded by people his own league- they looked like gods and goddesses

who wouldn’t feel insecure when every other week he sees those beautiful people

you start worrying about how kaminari might compare you towards those men and women

he’d think you’re a little... average, right?

NO MAAM NO HE WOULDNT

he noticed that every time you’d see his ads online/on television/on a billboard, you’d kinda avert your eyes and have this sad look

he got it the wrong way. he thought you felt embarrased about being with him

so one day he asks you

and when he found out the reason he’d be like... bitch what

he’d make u feel so loved 😌🥰

reminds u that you’re the only one for him <3

“hey babe, i- i have a question,” kaminari speaks up from beside you. you were watching a new tv show you both started to binge.

“shoot,” you said, giving him a soft smile.

he looked nervous, which made you nervous. “are you embarrassed to be with me?”

“wh- what? why would you ask that kami?” you ask the boy, eyes softening as you lunge at him in a bone crushing hug.

“well, because i noticed that every time you see an ad or a poster or a billboard of me you...” he looks like a lost puppy, pouting.

your eyes widen at what he said. “kami- no, that’s not the reason,” you pull yourself back for a second, sighing.

“then what’s up y/n? talk to me,” he said, still with the puppy eyes. he pulls you on his lap, staring at you.

you felt guilty for making him feel bad. “it’s just that you know, you model with these beautiful people, and uhm, you know-”

kaminari shakes his head, “no i absolutely don’t know babe, tell me what’s wrong” 🥺😩

“don’t you feel like you’re dating someone who’s a little average? maybe even below average?” you muttered, looking away. “i thought you’d be embarrassed to be seen with me.”

kaminari had never heard such bs from someone before.

“y/n- babe, and i mean this in the nicest way possible, what the heck?” he looks at you in confusion. “i would never feel that way. i love you and that would never change. you know that, right?” (hng pls i want a kaminari)

“i- i mean yeah, but it’s just... they’re all beautiful and perfect and-“

“no, YOU are.” (he’s making the 😠 face at u rn) “i don’t care what they look like, i only care about you. i’m dating you AND i’m marrying you-”

“you’re marrying me?” you stare at him.

“i mean y-yeah... but not now, i mean i know we’re both focused on other things and— okay what i’m saying is, i’ll marry you someday.” he was a stuttering mess, but he made you feel so much better.

you giggle at him, grabbing his face with both of your hands. “and i’ll say yes to you someday,” you gave him a smile before kissing him softly.

“i love you, okay? you’re beautiful and perfect in my eyes, so you don’t need to worry about those models. you’re the only one for me.”

to make you feel better, you guys cuddled with his arms wrapped a little tight around you. but you didn’t mind because he made you feel so loved.

UGH I LOVE HIM <3

shinsou

you met shinsou at the cafe you work at

he’s always there right before his morning class, and soon you get to memorize what his order is

shinsou always gets a caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso (ngl this is my go-to order so :>) and he gets a croissant too!!

he’s always nice and friendly to the staff, even if they mess up (ugh we love a considerate king)

shinsou is more of the quiet type so you had to make the first move 😳 and the rest is history😌

anyway when you staryed dating he’s a little on the lowkey side of things

he doesn’t really do very fancy stuff and all that but you still love him <3

shinsou isn’t very verbal either, he’s more subtle on the affection that he shows you

but when you got hit on by a random guy during a party and he didn’t get mad and had nothing to say, you went into overthinking mode

you wondered if he didn’t care enough to react or comment on what happened

which led to you thinking that he probably knows that he can get any girl when you break up

which then led to you feeling very insecure when you get home

you dwelled for almost a week, overthinking things that made you feel insecure

you felt like you were being irrational, but you can help it

what if he actually doesn’t care that much?

you were significantly less energetic and a lot more quiet for most of that week

it took him a while to notice, but when he was absolutely sure that something was wrong, he asked if you could talk

when he finds out he’d be very reassuring 🥺 would tell u how much he loves u

ahsjsk just very soft shinsou <333

“is everything okay, kitten?” he asked, gesturing for you to sit down beside him on the couch.

“yes bub, everything’s okay,” you gave him a fake smile. you didn’t want to tell him what got you so worried, afraid that he’d think you’re too irrational.

but jokes on you, shinsou saw through your facade and was pressed on finding out what’s wrong.

“no it’s not,” he pouted, grabbing your waist to sit you down on his lap. “come on kitten, tell me what’s wrong.”

you stopped for a moment, unsure on how to explain yourself to him.

“baby,” he said, cupping your face in his hands as he looked into your eyes.

“it’s not a big deal, but last week when that guy was trying to flirt with me and you didn’t say anything, i felt like you didn’t really care,” you caved in, avoiding his eyes. your eyes start to water; you didn’t want to be that type of person, but you felt too overwhelmed with emotions.

he felt a pang in his heart when he heard your quicering voice. “first of all kitten, it is a big deal when what i did made you upset, and second, of course i cared about what happened,” he murmured as he pulled you against his chest, embracing you tightly.

“it’s just that, you know, i thought you didn’t care enough about me to react to what happened...” you trailed off, burying your head into his chest, a few loose tears falling.

“kitten,” he sighed softly against the top of your head. “i didn’t react because i trust you enough to know that you wouldn’t leave me just like that— i mean you’d never leave me like that, would you?”

“o-of course not! i love you too much,” you cried out, looking up at him. “i would never leave you for someone else.”

“i wouldn’t leave you either, kitten,” he said, giving you a small peck on the forehead. “but really, i didn’t say anything about it because i trust you. i trust you with my whole heart. i didn’t mean for you to be upset, i just didn’t want you to feel suffocated in our relationship.”

you nodded slightly, understanding his position.

“and i mean, could i blame them? my baby is gorgeous as hell, so i’m not surprised that they’d wanna try to take you away,” he chuckled. “but again, i trust you, so i know you’re always gonna be my kitten.”

giggling at his words, you wrapped your arms around him, feeling a lot better. it warmed your heart to know that he put that much trust in you. you felt guilty for not trusting him.

“i’m sorry. i feel silly for thinking that,” you pouted, giving him a peck on his soft lips.

“don’t ever apologize for telling me what you feel, kitten. i don’t want you to keep things from me, okay?”

“okay bub. i love you,” you said, giving him a kiss.

“i love you, too, kitten.”

after that, he would always reassure you that he loves you and cares about you 🥺

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theresa-of-liechtenstein · 3 years ago

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@lavstar i was so incredibly stupid and i deleted your ask while i was drafting it… i swear i didn’t forget to do it 😭 anyway i’ve FINALLY finished it so let’s jump into the compilation of the most planes i have ever brainrot ❤️ because no ❤️ you cannot expect me to pick one ❤️ it is impossible ❤️

two airbus A320s taking off from parallel runways, five nautical miles apart ‘cause they’re not gay!

btw i genuinely do not care about military aircraft (never have, prob never will) so these are all to do with civil aviation. also huge disclaimer i did all the commentary off the top of my head (i did have to wikipedia some of the stats im not martin fucking crieff) so if i mess up a term or something that’s on me

of course no post about my favorite planes cannot leave out the OG. my first love, the most plane i have ever ridden; the one, the only, the increasingly irrelevant due to industry shifts, the beloved Airbus A380.

(L) just look at this big beautiful girl! + (R) a view of i believe scotland? as approached from the north

i don’t know why i love this plane so much, because lots of other people certainly don’t for a lot of reasons. her size makes her the main character out of necessity at every airport she comes across, and she’s an inconvenience for air traffic controllers for that reason. her origin story is [twitter stan account voice] a bit problematic. given changes in industry trends, she is also quickly becoming irrelevant. airbus my beloved please just admit that the four engines thing was nostalgia and go. she’s a marvel of engineering sure, but when all is said and done…the B747 came, she served cunt, and then she got phased out. the A380 was made with the intention of doing the same…unfortunately, she didn’t really complete the second step.

wait holy shit. i know why i love this plane so much. it’s because this plane…is me ❤️

—

and now for thee og in terms of famous big-ass planes that everyone loves: the B747. everyone loves the 747. even if they say they’re not into planes, they are. for me, not gonna lie: a very big reason for why i love the Queen of the Skies so much is mark vanhoenacker’s book, skyfaring. he flew the 747 for bri’ish airways (when they still had them) and loved that plane so much and man who am i to blame him.

(L) i think i teared up when i saw her through the big windows for the first time bc i was like oh my god. i am going to be on her. this icon of aviation, the arguable symbol of commercial aviation. so much history, so much significance… + (R) the past, the present, and the future of british airways in one image 🥺

i was on a 747 twice in my life. once on a cathay pacific flight to the philippines, and on my last flight abroad, on a british airways flight to heathrow. little did i know i was flying one of the last of their 747 flights—they phased them out completely the following year, a bit earlier than anticipated due to the pandemic.

as enzo ferrari once probably said, “ask a child to draw a plane, and certainly he will put a hump and four engines on it.” in terms of sheer iconic power and energy, the Queen (and she is the only earthly being to whom I shall ever refer as such) would far and away be the top on anyone’s list, save for the fact that i don’t have a top to this list and i have other planes to get to dear god this is getting long do you know what you’ve got yourself into!! the Queen really said “flight belongs to the people now” and the airlines just had to shut up and listen!! she is truly the main character!!!

genuinely don’t remember what river this is except that it’s in the UK… 🙈

i feel like everything else i say about her is just going to be a pale imitation of how evocative skyfaring was, so honestly i really recommend the book it’s so good and it’s one of my favorites. my copy is sort of falling apart now bc i kept bringing it around to places 😭 anyway, the number of airlines using her for passengers is decreasing, but you know who still use converted versions of her as well as purpose-built models? cargo airlines! anyway, ups and their brown planes my beloved 🤎

—

this slot was going to go to the B767 and 757, and i was going to rhapsodize about how aesthetically the 767 looks like a nicer plane to me because of Chonk, but the 757 is really endearing because it’s a narrowbody jet and it’s got landing gear that is long in a useful but unusual-looking way, which in essence what i’m trying to say is that if the 757 were a person, it would be esteban ocon.

so i was getting ready to write all of this down in much more words than i needed, but i remembered suddenly the very reason i was making this post in the first place. and that, my friends, is the B777.

honestly you don’t fully understand how big the 777 is until you see it in person. because we are all acclimated to think of like the 747 when we think of ‘big plane.’ but the 777 is massive. even i forgot about it when i wrote That Fanfic.

the 777 and 787 are the future of long-haul commercial aviation (and i say this as an A380 stannie). widebody jets with 2 big-ass engines are most likely what we’re going to see in the sky going forward when it comes to long-distance travel, and the pandemic pretty much confirmed that.

that aside, i love the 777. so much that i wrote a whole fanfic around one making an emergency landing ❤️ i really pretended ETOPS (the thing where a plane can fly for a long time on one engine) did not exist for six chapters and an alternate ending and i think that’s just very quirky of me aha 🤪

dear god do not mind my hat i literally bought it because of fred fucking thursday of endeavour… what the FUCK was teenage me on 😭

the 777 was supposed to be a trijet (one with three engines, two under each wing and one built into the vertical stabilizer) but as the mcdonnell douglas and lockheed martin trijets (cba to look up the numbers) were not projected to continue to be successful, they got rid of the trijet 777 idea and instead made it have two engines. another thing i think is neat is that all the examples of the 777 that you will see in the wild right now don’t have winglets bc the wings themselves are so long and raked back that they’re not necessary. which would be a weird thing for me in particular to find neat, because if you know me well you know i have a thing for winglets. (the 2022 f1 car’s front wing my BELOVED WAKSKDKSJSJ!!!!!) i also think the way the wingtip lights are incorporated into the wings are so neat. the upgraded version they’re trying to make now, the 777X, will have foldy wingtips so you can DIY your own winglets and i think that’s hilarious (and also cool).

—

genuinely i think i’m the only plane person that likes this last aircraft: the Embraer ERJ-175. i like her for purely nostalgic reasons. she reminds me of how i returned to my roots and decided to pursue engineering.

so okay this is going to have nothing to do with the plane, but i was lucky enough to be given a visit to the flightdeck after landing back home from a weekend trip. i was so excited to be allowed to sit in the first officer’s seat, and got to poke around the flightdeck for like ten minutes. which was cool, but all this was with the sinking realization that even operating a regional jet might be too physically demanding (read: unsafe) for someone of my… [exhales knowing EXACTLY what i’m about to walk into] height.

that is one fully glass cockpit. also those yokes are specific to embraer, boeing’s look more like f1 steering wheels with stuff cut out of them i think, and airbus’s are operated by side stick. it’s almost funny especially when watching flightdeck videos of the a380 cause it’s like… you’re doing All That *gestures vaguely at plane* with THAT *gestures at thing that looks like a chicken drumstick with semiconductors implanted in it*

so that was piloting as a career done with for me (much to my family’s relief.) and then i thought “hm i don’t have to be flying planes all the time to be working around them…why don’t i work on developing them instead?” and i was passively interested in matsci already, so that’s how and when i decided to pursue engineering, with hopes of working for airbus or boeing and in civil aviation.

we’ll see how that pans out, i say as i side-eye the exponential growth of my interest in motorsport.

thanks for the ask! i’m so sorry i was stupid and deleted it but i hope you like this very long, drawn out, and frankly deranged response 💚

#em speaks #lavstar #this is half me showing off my plane pictures half deranged rant i hope you enjoy

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fenristheorem · 4 years ago

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Lance finding out that Gardienne killed herself? After a while of her being in the HQ again, he has fallen in love with her. She just couldn't bear those seven years, having lost that many people and being here just to save this world by suffering.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, he knocked her door, he worried bc no one answered, and he finds her hanged up.

I know this is really specific, it's just kind of my OC ending😅😅 anyway, I'd understand if you weren't comfortable with this.

So I’m going to talk about the boundaries of what I write for a moment, starting by saying that I will write this BUT I won’t write detailed suicide scenes due to the sensitive nature of it.

This ask isn’t asking for a detailed scene, it’s asking for the effects the decision has on Lance, and because it’s asking for the long-term effects and not a scenario I’m just fine with writing this.

Thank you for asking this, Anon, genuinely. Being this specific was probably what gave me the push to write this in the end because I know you were looking for the reaction and not the actual scene. This is a good example of a post that walks along the lines of what I will and won’t write so anyone requesting future asks with a similar subject gets a better idea of what to ask.

Also, I apologize for how long this took to write. This ask was, unfortunately, the one that spent the most time eaten in my drafts folder so I couldn’t work on it until about a week ago. Fortunately that gave me a lot of time to think over how to best write this, so I think this’ll be appropriately written considering the subject.

*Warning / Note: This post contains heavy depressive themes and suicidal mentions, as evident by the ask and what I wrote above. I’m aware that this is a very sensitive subject and I intend to treat it with appropriate seriousness. This is not a happy post, please only read this if you know this won’t lead you down a dark path. To me, writing is another form of art, meant to express and draw out emotions from the audience, so I won’t subside the intensity of my writing even with this being a sensitive subject. I don’t intend to drive anyone to harm themselves, but I do intend to write with the intensity that I always do because this is my artform; so please prepare for heavy themes or don’t read if you’re not comfortable with this. On a side note: I care about everyone, I really do, so please take care of yourselves. If you’re feeling depressive or suicidal, talk to someone, please. There is always someone who cares about you.

Technically Guardienne's death may have a major adverse effect on Eldarya due to her link with the crystal, but for the sake of this ask I'll ignore any possible effects like that.

~Under the cut~

Lance’s reaction to Guardienne’s suicide:

Lance had seen a lot of terrible things in life and had done many terrible things in his life, but this reached a new type of fucked up for him. Not because it's truly disturbing - although it is deeply disturbing - but because it fucked him up even more in a way that he neither thought could be possible nor that he could bear.

He’s convinced that he’s cursed; everything that’s happened to him has been his fault. He started the war within Eldarya, destroyed so many faeries’ lives, killed his own brother, and now the woman he loved is dead because of him as well. Sure, he wasn’t the one to tie the rope around her neck, but there are signs for these sorts of things. Was he truly that blind that he couldn’t see that she was in pain? Did he ever truly love her if he couldn’t see the pain? Would she have done anything differently if he wasn’t there to constantly remind her of everything that was lost?

Lance believes he deserves this. He’s caused so much pain and agony for everyone, it only makes sense that he should be the one in pain now. Lance won’t try to fight the agony he’s in, he’ll let himself drown in it for nights on end to wake up - or not even sleep to begin with - feeling exhausted, reckless, irritated and - overall - worthless. He’s sure to emerge from his room in the morning without the slightest hint that he’s been sobbing quietly with the feeling of a dagger twisting itself over and over within his chest all night, and he’ll refuse to answer any questions about if he’s alright after the recent events. He was the one to find her after all; it would make sense that he was hit the hardest...

In the daytime he’ll be rough and withholding, keeping the Obsidian guard in a tight hold to reflect how he needs to hold himself tightly to keep from falling apart. It’s one thing for him feel and express emotions, but this feeling is an entirely different thing; this is something that should not be released into Eldarya. He realizes it and knows that this feeling - something that he recognizes all too well from his past - threatens to destroy everything that he worked so hard to gain in the past seven years.

Mathieu will notice Lance’s change in temperament immediately, and being the kind man he is he’ll want to be there for the dragon, but Lance won’t be looking for comfort; he’ll be looking for something that will change the past and take back everything that happened. But that’s impossible - he knows that - and so he’ll be stuck in a state of limbo, deemed to mourn for his unknown, unrealized love until... something happens to change him.

Ice cold fear will wash over him some days as he recognizes the familiar feeling that haunted him in the past, and while he’ll be aching to reach out to lean on someone for support - afraid of this feeling overwhelming him again - he’ll feel that he can’t lean on anyone. He doesn’t deserve that support at this point after all he’s done, and there’s so many others who are busy grieving; the guard needs him to be strong now. However, on occasion - when he has a clear mind - he’ll grieve gently with someone who’s somewhat close to him, sharing kind memories of Guardienne and gently advising them to spend time around friends if his co-worker feels it’s needed. He’ll never completely break in front of anyone though, he can’t bring himself to.

However, Lance falls apart immediately when he’s alone, sometimes even lingering in the conference room for a few minutes after a meeting to allow himself the private time alone to recollect himself. Grief will randomly hit him throughout the day, constricting his throat, burning his chest, and glassing over his eyes - and every time he’ll excuse himself from his company to isolate himself until he regains control again. This, of course, is taken into notice by a few others around the guard, and slowly there’ll be people who realize that Lance is not fine.

This becomes a further issue over time as his grief slowly turns into anger and disgust, and this is when that familiar, ominous feeling from his past really rears it’s ugly face. He should have seen something. Was he really that terrible to her that she felt she couldn’t trust him? Was everyone really that blind to not see her hurting?

Lance finds that he begins to choose to isolate himself, mentally and physically. He’ll leave the guards members alone that have stated they need time off, but he won’t be very forgiving with those who have chosen to continue their work but seem to be slacking. His mentality is that if you can’t handle continuing on, then don’t offer your service as it’ll become a hindrance, and this quickly becomes a major issue.

Huang Hua - knowing how important Guardienne was to Eldarya, and the guard especially - has let it be known that if anyone needs a break from their responsibilities, then it’ll be allowed, but she will stress that those who feel they can continue to function please try to do so, and be lenient and take on a few responsibilities that aren’t usually asked of them if they feel they can. She can read other’s auras and sense intentions and emotions of sorts, so she can generally get a good read on how someone is doing, but she can’t consistently do that with everyone, so while she’ll use this ability when necessary to enforce that someone take a break so they don’t fall apart, not every unstable case is known to her. This is the main reason why she slightly overlooks Lance for a while. When he first found Guardienne, he panicked immediately, rushing her to Ewelein and not even truly believing her death until many days after the event. Huang Hua - having sensed his shock and panic blocking out any other emotions - let it go for a few days; everyone goes through their own grieving process, some immediately and some not until many years afterwards. There was nothing that anyone could do for him until Guardienne’s death hit him fully. However, she also knew from her abilities that Lance was in love with her, or at very least had a deep liking for Guardienne, so the instant a few members of the guard come to her expressing serious concerns regarding Lance’s recent aggression and distance, Huang Hua knows immediately that it needs to be dealt with. This grief was an unknown factor in Lance’s new life - but his past with this type of grief shows clearly that this can really fuck him up - so it needed to be discussed, otherwise he risks spiraling back into the same place he was seven years ago.

She’ll approach him when he’s alone, or if they’re in a relatively public space she’ll take him somewhere private, sensing all the while the breathtakingly painful feeling of agony, anger and distress that’s clouding his mentality. It was just the same as when he was Ashkore, how did he not yet break? He’ll refuse to follow her if he knows she wants to talk about his emotions - ironic since he’s always been open to sharing his perspective and thoughts - so she’ll just tell him that she needs to talk to him in private regarding a few anonymous tips from some guards members if he happens to ask why.

Being alone with an unstable, emotionally distraught dragon with a history of violence while under heavy states of grief does unsettle her a bit, but she knows the outcome of this will be much worse if he truly feels isolated. He’s not going to reach out for help by himself - he doesn’t know how to, nor does he probably want to - so she needs to be the one to reach out to him and help him stabilize himself before another situation like Valkyon’s death occurrs.

She’ll consider first talking alone with him in his room - where he’d likely feel most comfortable - but considering he’d likely be defensive, that could then translate into aggression in his own territory, and that may lead her to being forced out of his room for her own safety. Lance has certainly changed in temperament, but heavy grieving emotions can blind someone, so there’s really no promising that nothing... destructive may happen, no matter how much he’s changed in patience.

She then considers talking with him in the conference room, but there isn’t a whole lot of privacy there. The conference room is more for business, rather than personal, private, emotional conversations. The last thing Lance needed in this moment was for his emotions to be treated even slightly like a business confrontation and not as an important part of his being. Frankly, even on a day where he’s feeling just fine he would never accept anyone’s emotions to be treated like a business issue, so the last thing she wanted was to imply that by bringing him into a room that could do just that.

Huang Hua then thinks over the idea of talking to him in her room; it would likely be safer, after all. He probably won’t become territorial or aggressive as it’s not his territory, and it’ll be a gentle reminder that she’s happy to welcome him into her personal life to help comfort him (therefore defeating the concern that it could seem like a business confrontation), but since it’s her territory he might emotionally shut himself down. It can be uncomfortable to fall apart in someone else’s room, especially knowing they’re higher ranking and could be interrupted at any moment to deal with something else...

Then she wonders if she should bring him outside of the guard to speak with him - somewhere that’s private and on neutral ground. That way they’d both be in strange territory and may not be interrupted, and if they are they’d receive prior warning by noticing that someone was walking their way.

Of course, Huang Hua then realizes that - no matter how much she’d like to think that she understands what would make Lance most comfortable - she truly doesn’t know what would help him best, but she can be there to provide support at very least, regardless of where they are. At the end of the day, Lance would probably know where he’d feel most comfortable, so when she approaches him to talk, saying that it’s an important but private conversation, she’ll ask him where he would rather talk. He’ll be slightly hostile, especially when he picks up on the fact that she’s going out of her way to word things carefully and prioritize his comfort, but he’ll decide to talk somewhere private outside the guard, where no one is around.

And that’s how Huang Hua finds herself in the middle of the open plains, far away from the guard to talk to a dragon who might as well be stabbing himself with his own dagger with how he’s been allowing himself to feel as of late. She’ll start off gently, telling him the recent concerns of a few anonymous guard’s members and Lance will stand a few feet away and listen coldly with a blank expression until she suggests that he take a few days off. He’ll debate things with her then, and it’ll escalate slowly until Lance is clearly distressed but still unmoving in his decision to remain active, and Huang Hua will know then that she can’t be gentle anymore...

“Lance, take a few days off, for your sake.”

“No.” His tone is harsh and cold as he snaps at her. “The guard needs me, there’s so much I need to do - so much I need to repay-” He didn’t mean to let that last statement slip - after all, his actions certainly couldn’t be made up for, right? - but emotions can be a powerful thing, can’t they?

“You won’t be able to do any of that if you’re destroying everything you’ve helped rebuild in the process.” Lance is pacing, keeping his eyes trained to the ground. Huang Hua - despite her anxiousness at the dragon being so stubborn on decisions made under heavy negative emotions - tries to keep a comforting, open atmosphere to avoid furthering any issues. “You know the pain you’ve cast upon on others, you’ve felt that same sort of pain now and you need to take time to be able to recover from that.”

“I can’t take time, it’s not something I can just accept! Everyone I’ve hurt before never had time to accept the situation before I made it worse, but they still pushed forward! There’s no reason for me to have it any easier!”

“And where would we be if we treated you the same way you used to treat the world? Would we be any better than how you used to be?”

Lance stops pacing but his eyes remain on the ground, his throat constricting as his thoughts run rampant. Would they be the same as how he used to be if they allowed him to keep running himself this way? He’s done terrible things, but he’s spent many years trying to keep that from happening again. Certainly he’s an asset to the guard now, so would it be cruel of them to ignore his distress? Or would it be justified payback for everything he’s done?

“Lance, you’ve done wonderful things the past seven years, and we want you to continue that and I know you want to continue that as well. Take some time off so you can do that without destroying yourself or your environment. Don’t ignore your pain like it’s nothing - it’s not nothing, and you have the resources to deal with it in a better way now. Use those resources, Lance, it’ll help you work your way through this.” Huang Hua’s tone is gentle and soft as she pleads with him, hoping that her blunt words will reach his common sense.

He tries to argue this, stuttering the beginning of sentences to try and disprove her point, grasping for any reason as to why his pain is invalid. However, Lance finds that there’s no sound argument against Huang Hua’s words, and constricting panic, horror, and then heavy tides of grief will hit him as he realizes that he is, in fact, dragging himself into his own downfall. He is his own worst enemy, once again.

In any manner, this is all his fault - his past actions, Guardienne’s distress of what’s changed that lead to her death, his emotional isolation, and disruption of the guard is all because he doesn’t know how to deal with himself and his abyss of emotions. How did this happen to him? He was never the type of person to deny and hide away his emotions, so how is it he ended up caging himself like this when under personal grief? Is it because the situation is so personal to him that he has a hard time allowing himself to seek comfort in others who likely couldn’t understand?

Lance will fall apart at this, closing his eyes and turning towards the ground to keep himself together, but falling apart all the same as grief overwhelms him one final time in a push that throws him over the edge. He’ll clench his fist and bow his head, bringing it over his mouth as he desperately tries to steady his breathing, to no avail as tears find their way from his eyes and his chest heaves in quieted sobs.

Huang Hua will lurch forward to comfort him, but stops as Lance whirls around to step back and snap at her - he didn’t want comfort, he wanted her back!

“Where were you for her!? Why didn’t anyone else see her pain!?” His eyes are tragedy and desperation underneath the weakened cold anger of ice blue, a faint few tears streaking down his face as his voice - thunderous and howling - cracks and breaks alongside his crumbling rage. If he couldn’t have fixed this, then someone else could have - why didn’t anyone fix this!?

“You know it’s not morally correct to monitor everyone’s private emotions all the time. What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t allow my people their privacy?” Huang Hua stills and clasps her hands together at her waist, understanding Lance’s outward anger. However, she realized his statement signaled something else as well; Lance could no longer fight why he should allow himself to grieve, so he was desperately clinging onto some semblance of needing to be distant by turning it to be someone’s fault - someone that he could hate. “You are right in a way; of the many people who knew her, someone might have been able to catch how torn up she felt, but people who wish to hide their pain, or spend so long hiding their pain that it becomes a part of who they are, learn how to hide their pain in ways too complex for others to realize. And, Lance, if she didn’t want anyone to know about her grief, there wouldn’t have been much that I could have done anyways.”

“You could have helped her!” The dragon’s voice was weakening as he spoke, distant anger being replaced by a cold, hollow emptiness as he realized the truth in Huang Hua’s words.

“Only if she was ready for that help. You can’t force someone to accept help, you can only wait for them to allow themselves to be helped.”

“She wouldn’t want me to find relief during this time...” He looked away toward the ground and hung his head, blinking rapidly as he began to heave for breath. There must be a reason why he shouldn’t be allowed to feel this way .

“Do you think she would have wanted everything good you did - whether she knows what you did or not - to be destroyed because of your grief for her?” Lance’s eyes squinted closed and he tilted his head a bit further away from the phoenix. It seemed as though every reminder of everything good he’s done continues to leave him with a hollow chest. “I think if she witnessed firsthand everything you’ve done the past seven years she would have thought very differently about you now than what she did when first having woken up from the crystal.”

Lance turns to face his back towards her, resting a palm on his forehead before brushing his fingers back through his hair as a tremble rolls through him. He could feel pressure rising from his throat as he bared his teeth in an agonized snarl before parting his mouth to silently gasp for air. His head tilted back to look at the sky, only for a few tears to fall from his eyes when he releases a shaky breath.

“Lance, your situation with her was very unique - no one else could begin to understand exactly what you’re feeling from your history with her. Take some time so you can understand it - and fix, or do, or feel whatever you need to - so you can carry forward knowing yourself better.”

He wanted to fight her statement, but his moral compass argued with his resistance on this as well. If anything, of whatever terrible things came as a result of her death, there should be some good sought from it as well. What’s the point of accepting a tragedy if not to learn something from it as well, even if it’s something quiet that no one else knows you learned?

For the first time in a long while - if not ever - Lance allows himself to break and be comforted. He lets himself embrace the burning, stinging pain that rises in his chest as he turns his head back to the ground and collapses on his knees. Huang Hua immediately reacts and is by his side in moments, on her knees and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder as she leans against him slightly. Sobs escape his throat as his body tenses and curls forward slightly, bracing a hand on the ground to steady himself as tremulous waves of emotions - any and all emotions that could possibly be named - wash over him and leave him gasping for air.

“I miss her, too.” Huang Hua’s voice shakes now as she leans further against the dragon, bringing her arms as far around him as she can while her head rests against his shoulder, away from the spines on his pauldrons. Lance brings his other hand up and tightly grasps the forearm reaching across his chest.

Huang Hua had spent so much time trying to help others through this that she had completely forgotten to make sure she was alright as well, and seeing Lance - the man she least expected to be torn apart by this situation - completely break and fall apart before her eyes reminded her of the true depth of their loss. They didn’t just lose Eldarya’s savior, they had lost a friend, a great warrior, one of the last angels, someone who was pure at heart and wasn’t afraid to face the darkness of life without so much as a blink of hesitation. They had lost someone who gave everything for the world, and suffered because of it.

Minutes merged until they were unsure of how long they spent in the fields, but in time both of them calmed down. Lance - now able to think clearer on the subject - began to reflect on the situation.

“This wasn’t her fault... the blame is on all of us, for not having seen anything... but she must have known that someone would have been there for her if they knew how much she was hurting...” He murmured this quietly, waves of shame washing over him again as he realized he was perhaps pinning some of the blame on Guardienne. Was there really anyone to blame here? She must have known that someone would have been there for her if she sought help, but it’s not right for others to pry into the personal life of another if the intrusion is unwelcomed, and who was to say she wanted help in the first place? Had she given up? Would anyone have been able to stop her to begin with? Who was to blame, if there was anyone?

“There’s nothing we can do now except honor her and move forward.” Huang Hua whispered back with a shaky voice and Lance faintly nodded his head. There were many things that worked together to lead to this happening, and in between there also were moments where something could have helped deter it, both by her doing and by others. At the root core, everyone and anyone could have helped stop this in some way, even if it was by giving her a small passing smile that could have helped remind her that there is good and hope in the world, but there’s also no guarantee that anyone could have stopped it. Regardless, this is how things happened. They can’t change the past, but they can move forward with her in mind and learn from this.

Lance - despite his heavy grief and complex emotions on everything - begins to soften himself to the situation. He’s not the only one grieving. His situation may have been the most complicated, but he’s still in the same boat as everyone else. He doesn’t feel the need to sob alongside the others anymore, but he does find that whenever the group he’s in begins to fall apart into wailing, he’ll bow his head and won’t hide the obvious pain that he’s in at the reminder of his lost love. His feelings for Guardienne will be kept quiet, and he won’t openly say how he felt about her - it could still be seen as wrong in the opinion of some people for him to have fallen in love with the same woman he hurt so much, especially knowing her pain is what led to her death - but he won’t deny the truth of his feelings to those who caught on somehow. Lance will find that he’ll slowly begin to mend after this death, many months after of course, but it’ll happen, and in some ways this will help him move past his brother’s death as well. After all, in the end both Guardienne and Valkyon came to accept their final moments in life before allowing Lance’s past actions to bring about their end, and although one chose to die to help mend him and the other chose to die to help relieve herself, the root issue of the situation that led to their death was still very similar. He’ll have a hard time allowing himself to move past the fact that his actions played a major part in both deaths, but he realizes in time that that’s what happens when someone has a violent past. It’ll haunt for many years, and the effects of it can never be reversed, but in the end this only inspires him to work harder to provide a better world. Maybe he can’t erase what he did, but he can make sure it doesn’t happen again and work to provide Eldarya with as much good as he can provide now.

Without a doubt Guardienne’s death hits him hard, but he’ll be sure to come back twice as strong from this.

I hope you like this, Anon! I feel Guardienne’s suicide would definitely hit Lance hard and remind him subtly of Valkyon’s death, but I don’t see Lance being held down by this for too long. He’d heavily grieve for her for a good while before he eventually finds himself standing on two feet again and powering his way through life, if not for his own sake then for the sake of others, both alive and dead.

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#Eldarya ANE #eldarya lance #fenristheorem writing #askfenris

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

Text

A Series Of Mutual Feelings, 1/3 (Scarjah) - Pazinae

chapter 1: i hate u (and the feelings mutual)

Chapter Summary: Ra'jah is determined to have a fresh start and be a better person, now enrolled as a first year fashion school student- but Scarlet has a way of always making her newfound plans falter. With a rocky high school history, the (not so) fortuitous pair endure some mutual hatred

A/N: enemies 2 luvers scarjah everyone xoxo meant to be a oneshot, but got a little carried away n my doc for this is currently 19 pages long ahaha so to be more palatable it will be a 4 chapter story (its says 3, but you'll see). this one is mainly the intro for the story to understand where they're at emotionally in the present, and is mostly ra'jah centric on her growth + kylie friendship fluff bc theyre the cutest, and a bit of scarlet pov. feedback super super welcome, enjoy !!!

***

Scarlet strode down the hall with a sway in her hips, her heels clacking on the laminate floor. What kind of tacky ass bitch wears heels to school anyways? Ra'jah scoffed internally, watched the girl saunter like she's on a tightrope, each tantalizing step brought her foot exactly in front of the other. Her body fell into a rhythm, stomping the fucking campus like a lion stalking the jungle for the sheer fun of watching it’s prey scamper. Scarlet's bouncing skirt, her signature grin and luscious ginger curls sprouting out her scalp made her gag. And not in the stunning way. Just as quickly as she came she was gone, and, to be fair, she was just another girl sandwiched in the masses just getting to where she’s going. But she could pluck that arrogant little redhead bitch out of any crowd. Not a conscious choice of course, hell, being reminded of her sheer presence causes a battle of trying not to roll her eyes behind her skull. She can't help that she sees her. Not when Scarlet's lips are painted the same shade of bold crimson as the tight, sleeveless top she's wearing, like a fresh drop of blood in a sea of grey clad bodies swimming around in their hoodies.

This isn't high school anymore Ra'jah. A repetitive reminder that needs to be said evermore until it's understood at her core. Because It's different now, she knows that- it has to be. No fucking way are her dreams going to get caught up in everything again, they're too big to be put at stake. She can't live just to be like that again, and this time she's too grown to waste her time on useless people. High school was a bubble, a 4 year trance that she's left and is more than ready to forget about.

"Hey, Ra'jah!" That southern, velvety voice could only belong to one stunning woman. She turned around to spot her speed walking to catch up.

"Aye! Kylie!" Ra'jah stopped and gave a little wave as Kylie approached, her highlight shining even in the shitty indoor light. The two moved over to the side of the hall, and leaned against the wall. "If it isn't Miss Kylie Sonique Love," With such a pleasing name, Ra'jah doesn't think she will, or, really can ever get tired of saying the other girl's name. "What's up?"

"Nothin', just tired as fuck," It's kinda cute, the way her accent gets stronger when she's grumpy. "I'mma pass out at some point, I did not get enough sleep." Even as a grumble her voice is so soft and angelic, Ra'jah could probably fall asleep to the blonde reading true crime murder stories.

"Goddamn, it sure as hell doesn't show!" Which is true, Kylie was as effervescent as always, any visible messy hair from under her beanie looked intentional. Even in her oversized t-shirt and shorts, there was an undeniable, captivating charm about her that made it impossible for her to look bad "You look gorgeous girl"

"Awh, thanks honey," She smiles a soft, hazy smile. "You don't look too bad yourself." She hums, eyeing her up with a grin. Before she could even argue a response, the country girl quickly perks up and slaps her hand on Ra'jah's shoulder in excitement. "Oh also! I want your opinion- I'm thinking about dying my hair pink." She can see the visible sparkle in the pair of eyes looking at hers. "Thoughts?" She asks, voice becoming giddy "Oooh bitch! You better, that'd be so fierce!" The (mostly) purple haired girl exclaimed, delight evident in her voice "For real, you'd look so good. And you know, ba-BY" she claps her hands together just for added emphasis, "I support ALL the impulsive hair decisions".

"Yess, obviously I want input only from bad bitches with the best hair"

"I told you I did these myself right?" she asked, running her shoulder length hair through her twirling fingers. "I've been really into doing hair recently"

"Wait, really? It looks so pretty, the fade to purple is so good"

"What'd you mean 'wait really' hoe, what you implying 'bout my hair skills?"

"Just that a talented woman like you should share your expertise!" Even when she was loud her voice was just as comforting, the tone reminiscent of a silk blanket on her skin

"All it took for me was bleach, a bottle of violet Arctic Fox dye, and the holy spirit of Brad Mondo"

"First of all I'm not trusting no mans named Brad," Ra'jah cackled a little because, yeah that's fair. "And secondly, if you're free, come an' help a girl out then!

"You're inviting me over? Wow we're moving kinda fast Kylie"

"Oh shut up bitch" but the undying twinkle in her eye confirmed the unsaid agreement that Ra'jah would be doing Kylie's hair, at some point.

"I'm free on Thursday, can I visit then?"

"Yea that works" She smiled, and the closeness between the two wasn't something the taller girl ever planned, or really felt before. But she had it now, a friend she really cares about, and she never wanted to lose it.

"Shit what time is it?" Even in her Shitty Human era she was still a timely gal, her mother didn't raise no late hoe. "Don't stress it Raj, we have like 15 minutes. Introduction to drafting and sewing, right?"

"Yes ma'am. Wanna start going?" "Sure thing" This year is for a new start, making new friends, and getting a chance to create new first impressions. Rebrand herself y'know, and the hindrance that is Scarlet's existence, wrapped in all the ancient things she'd rather not think about, won't stop her.

The walk to class was a pleasant blur. With Kylie yawning and walking essentially shoulder to shoulder with Ra'jah had they been the same height, they slipped into both comfortable conversation, and silence. With all the noise around them, their presence brought an ease without any awkwardness.

A trek opted through the outdoor route that was albeit a tad longer, provided some well needed greenery and fresh air.

"You excited for class?" Ra'jah asked, only half aware of where she was walking to. Her body was on autopilot, and Kylie knows the way, probably.

"You're amazing if you can get excited by class"

"It's fun!"

"Only 'cause you're good at it"

"You're good at it"

"You know what I mean. Isn't this one your favorite?"

"It's not my favorite"

"Uh huh"

"I just like it a lot. Maybee essentially jus' cause I don't hafta try" It was a mandatory course, but Ra'jah's not complaining. Perhaps it's a little vain to enjoy something just to remind everyone you can do it, but it was an easy break from the rest of the courses. And a nice little egoboost.

"So I'm right!"

"C'mon it's October and we're still on basic techniques"

"It's called introductory," She remarked. "Do you even pay attention half the time?"

"No but bitch neither do you"

"True" Kylie grinned in agreement.

"The way you're coming for me but it's easy for you too!" She hasn't been sewing as long as Ra'jah, but she has great taste so it really balanced out. "And let it be known that I use that class time to think about incredibly productive things"

"Oh that's her name?"

"What?" She didn't mean for her tone to drop. Didn't mean for her legs to stop walking, planting themselves into the cement. Didn't mean for the smile on her face to plummet at the implication. Her visceral reaction was louder than the cluelessness she gave off.

"Calm down" She giggled, as if Ra'jah's reaction woke her up from her grogginess, her breathlessness equivalent to a shot of espresso for Kylie. "You just seem really occupied sometimes is what I meant"

"Me? No I'm not" She couldn't convince herself.

"Okay babe. The models of your fashion sketches just look a little reminiscent"

"You know Scarlet isn't the only person with ginger hair right?" Ra'jah bites back, the condescending tone not her intention, but not exactly unwanted in the moment. Scarlet is insufferable, she doesn't want her own name slandered is all, being associated with the arrogant shit.

"Baby, I ain't mention Scarlet. That's all you.'' She had a shit eating smirk and maybe Ra'jah takes everything back about how nice friends are. IF there was inspiration, Scarlet is objectively nice looking so it's not a big deal there might be similarities if you squint.

"She was implied"

"If you want her to be"

They get inside and take a seat at one of the large tables, divided into stations with a sewing machine and some material at each one. Ra'jah takes a spot at the edge, with Kylie seated to her right.

On paper, it's all been planned out for Ra'jah; during her strolls between classes she'll take in all her surroundings and actively look for inspiration, pondering all the natural shapes and patterns of the world in a way she can manipulate into clothing. On paper, she'll make the most out of the introductory class, sketching designs between the minimal notes and sewing practices. On paper, she'll finish the mornings class with ease and have extra time to practice some new things.

In reality? Paper is flimsy, especially when its accountability is held by a fleeting mind. It's hard to bask in the world when unwanted questions plague her head. Mostly revolving around a certain redhead. God, fuck her. Fuck her pretty eyes and fuck her sculpted face and fuck her euphonious voice. Does everyone who sees Ra'jah see her patheticness? How she allowed some cunt to infiltrate her mind, set up home in her head and take up all the space? Let her infect every cell in the brain like a parasite until her skull is nothing but an infiltrated shell for an infestation caught up with infatuation?

"Ra'jah, you good?" The girl sat across from her, Trinity, piped up, and Ra'jah had to bite back a smile. The icy, timid girl she met just a few weeks ago was starting the conversation.

"Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"You just looked a little spaced out"

"Nah, it's just that this class is a breeze an' I'm just thinking about a project for another class"

"Mmm"

"Plus it's hard to just think of designs when there's no inspiration"

"I mean, we're supposed to practice gathering and making ruffles right now"

"Oh shit! We are?"

"Yeah girl!" Ra'jah, shaking her head at herself, finally picked up some of the fabric around her and got to work. "You'll be alright?"

"Oh don't worry about me! I'm all good"

"Okayyy if you need anything just yell" Ra'jah replied with a hum and a nod. Watching the girl running the fabric under the machine, memories of the first time they'd talked flashed, days of the nearly silent girl feeling so distant.

"I really like your earrings" The girl raised her head, looking left and right a little as if making sure it was directed at her.

"Thanks." She mumbled, vaguely looking at Ra'jah's direction.

"If you don't mind, where'd you get them?"

"Uh, I thrifted it."

"Oh, cool" Ra'jah smiled, before quickly adding "Thanks". The raven haired girl didn't reply. The start of the intriguing game of 'does she hate me, is she shy, or both?'

After all the awkward attempts made for the quiet girl to be comfortable and maybe make a friend, a sense of pride rang through her. She met Kylie and Trinity here a mere month ago, and yeah, maybe she could be nice. She could walk the fineline of warm socialization without being annoying. The new Ra'jah doesn't do unnecessary mean quips just for the sake of a little power rush. She can be authentically her while being polite. New Ra'jah makes friends- not enemies.

"Oh by the way" Ra'jah snapped her head up at Trinity's voice

"Yeah, what's up?"

"I know it's a little random but do you know what you're gonna be for Halloween?"

"Huh. Well, I haven't really thought about it" Ra'jah remarked, "I just don't care for Halloween and all that"

"Really? Girl, you're not gonna do anything, dress up, go out, nothing?"

"Baby all that work and money for some costume I'll wear once? No ma'am- and the fuck will I do, I barely have ideas for school!"

"Hey, you could wear anything and it's a costume. Wear a black dress, you're a cat"

"You think I'm that basic?"

"Yeah?"

"Fuck you" She snorted, and Trinity had a goofy smile, looking at Ra'jah with a sense of familiar fondness. "And thanks, really, but I don't care for all that spooky shit anyways"

"Damn, alright!" Teeth out and all, she laughed. The blonde on the right leaned in a little, a pleasant opposition of Trinity's hesitation is Kylie's eagerness

"Jesus Ra'jah, what did Halloween do to you?" The southern girl butts in. "You could dress as the grinch of Halloween, steal children's candy"

"You know what, yeah, I'll be a sluttified grinch"

"You're kinda built the same already" Trinity joins with a grin

"Hey!"

"Sluttified? Are you implying the grinch isn't sexy enough?" Ra'jah choked a little at that, found herself smiling with some dopey content, at what exactly she's not sure.

"Do ya'll think being the grinch would count as like, being a furry?" Trinity asked, voice dripping in an odd amount of seriousness.

"What? Baby no" Kylie jumped in. "Yes! absolutely, how would it NOT?" Trinity argues, and maybe it's the easiness of everything. Of how nice it is to just fall into banter when you let people in. Bouncing off the two girls, she doesn't need to think of how to be funny, how to one up herself, remind everyone of why she's worthy. She can just, be. And that warrants a smile.

With Ra'jah's elbow propped on the table, she rested her cheek against her palm to face forward, before turning a little to face Trinity

"But why do ya ask Trin? About Halloween"

"Oh, kinda last minute but I just want some ideas to figure mine out" She shrugs, and Kylie leans over once more. It's a little heartwarming, how physically close she always instinctively wants to be.

"Oh! Are you going to the Halloween party this weekend?"

"Nah parties aren't really my thing"

"Awh, but it'll be fun!"

"Yeah standing in a mass of people I won't talk to will be so fun"

"Fine- Ra'jah, are you goin'?" Rajah turns her head to follow the voices like a cat keeping up with a beam of light.

"Uh..."

"RIGHT, forgot, Halloween's not your thing". A party where she can have a disguise, let loose and have fun. It feels almost embarrassing to admit to her newfound friends that she's never been to a party, and the thought of a Halloween party didn't even cross her mind. Maybe Halloween isn't not her thing, it's just not something she'd indulge in. For reasons. Like, schoolwork.

"Welllllll…" Ra'jah hummed, dragging on with a small grin

"OH the prospect of partying changes things huh?"

"You know, me an' Halloween, we complicated okay!" They laugh, but Ra'jah's left thinking. New or old Ra'jah both, spends a little too much time in the internal realm of the brain.

The class falls silent except the murmurs of the buzzing machines, and the three chatter in whispers. Although usually it's mostly her and Kylie with occasional injections of confirmation from Trinity

"You're insane if you think spaghettini is better than fettuccine" Kylie protested "Spaghettini is literally the objective worst"

"Says who?!" Ra'jah paused sewing to look up at Kylie in defiance

"Me!"

"Trinity which is better"

"Huh? Ya'll It's too early for this." Trinity complained.

"Oh, says the bitch who asked if the grinch was a furry" Ra'jah retorted, but Trinity brushed her off to look at Kylie "Oh wait! Also, Kylie, what're you gonna be for Halloween?" She gave a little snicker before answering

"Don't come for me but honestly? Was thinking about being a cat"

"AAAAAH!" Ra'jah and Trinity erupted laughing.

"But like, a hot one okay!" Ra'jah quickly tried to redeem herself.

"You'll be the hottest ass cat around" Plus, worse comes to worst, Ra'jah will be a witch or something, and they can be hot and basic together.

When the class ended, they packed their things, and exchanged their goodbyes

"I'll see y'all around!"

"See you! Good luck on your textile project Trin"

"Thanks!" She waved, yelling a final "Bye!"

"Bye!" The three part, and Ra'jah makes her way to her second class. History of costume and design was next, and quickly weighing it out, she decided to take a quicker path through the halls. Suddenly, the weight of a body knocked at her side, the two stumbling around for a few seconds. A gust of papers had fallen from both parties' arms, and landed on the floor.

"Oh shit! I'm so-" Scarlet cuts herself off when she looks up at whom she's bumped into.

"Maybe watch where you're going" Ra'jah snorts out of sheer instinct, squatting down to gather her papers where Scarlet follows suit, just a little too close. The vague, sweet scent of strawberries she gives off is suffocating.

"Maybe if you weren't such a stuck up cunt taking up half the hallway I wouldn't hit you" The attention sends a masochistic jolt down her spine

"Uh oh someone's in a bad mood. Stuck up cunt that's a new one! Love the creativity. You should drop out of this school and be a writer" As much as she screamed internally to just shut the fuck up and get your things, it was so easy to slip back to this.

"Thanks but I'm good! When you fail out this year you can give it a try"

"Baby, me? Fail out?" Please don't imply that. Please don't make me doubt that I can and deserve to be here. I don't want to seek approval from others, but I can't help but be hurt at disapproval. Of course, her thoughts don't verbalize as the words that come out of her mouth. "That's a lot of talk for a girl who probably spends more hours getting fucked than studying" Before she can think it through, process the flash of hurt on her face and the way her fingers tense around the last piece of paper, before Ra'jah can really understand the weight of her own words she continues. "But I guess that's how you get yo' A's right?"

Their exchanges were in aggressive whispers, hushed to anyone above them. To most people, they'd find a sight of two girls muttering to one another while they pick up some things they've dropped.

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet" Scarlet huffed, standing up in one swift motion. Those words aren't a compliment. Like, at all. So why does Ra'jah's dumb, twisted heart stop for a second? The implied connection of herself and 'pretty' slows her body and slurs her mind until she's pushing herself up off the ground in slow motion. It's been so many months of mundanity, the small interaction felt all so familiar and foreign and exciting at the same time.But the haziness of her words and their little games makes her forget for a second of what the fuck just happened, and a wave of patheticness washed over her as she started to walk, eyes focused at the cream walls. For all her hemming and hawing, Ra'jah hasn't. Fucking. Changed.

A rush of everything dives into her guts, a sick adrenaline coated in dread, self loathing and the slight urge to cry, nestling in her stomach like a bird claiming a branch as it's home. Her skin was electric, and she hated to admit she loved it, the thrill of interacting with her, cattiness and all. Imagine feeling this much from fucking bumping into someone? Fingers clenched, nails digging in her own palms at how much she hates her. Intense emotions are a high of their own, and Ra'jah can't help but indulge. The piercing sting of her flesh being pressed in with her nails is intensified as she listens for the faint voice of that lanky girl always accompanying Scarlet.

"You good Scarlet?"

"Yeah, thanks" She can't look back, but she can't help but wonder- are they hugging? Holding hands? It doesn't- it shouldn't matter to her. The fun amusement pales in comparison to the misery settling in. The realization that she's fighting with Scarlet like they're 16 at the back of English class.

Of all the schools, why'd that girl have to come here? Of all the things to pursue, why the same as herself? Of all the people, why'd it have to be her? Ra'jah didn't have the audacity to explore the last question. What she means, she's not too sure. The only thing in the world she's sure of is that she can't be both New Ra'jah™ and Old Ra'jah™ to different people. The line between the two existences isn't so bold anymore, and painting over the bumps isn't as effective as she'd hoped.

***

Truth be told, watching herself move around in skirts was one of her favorite things- just about tied with watching others watch her. Maybe that's why she joined cheer in highschool. Especially with the support from (or, lack of thereof) a certain grimacing purple haired girl, a runaway model from a fashion show who wound up wandering this school. She never needed to turn and look, didn't need sight to know there's a burn at her back, nor who it's radiating from. Scarlet always walked with just a bit of a straighter back, just a bit more purpose, and just a bit more stride in her step when her favorite pair of wandering eyes were around. A small part of her always wants to turn around, catch her gaze and watch her frantically look away and pretend she's talking to someone. Or maybe she'll hold it, stare back with just as much intensity. But her wistful attention is enough of an ego boost. The scowl ridden bitch, smile washed away just for her, and yet that's where her attention lied. It made her bite back a smile.

Scarlet is a pretty thing, and she didn't need constant confirmation to remind her that she's beautiful. She's hot, she knows it, Ra'jah knows it, and Scarlet knows that's all she is to her. A pretty thing. Whatever. She's not important.

In fear of her brain melting, and/or being fried to a crisp, Scarlet doesn't bother having two classes back to back. Her mental capacity is full, and a nice salad will probably help with that. She's on her way to meet with Yvie for lunch, thinking about their weekend plans, when she takes a misstep and stumbles, all her weight focused in her shoulder which slams against someone else's side.

"Oh shit! I'm so-" the universe is an asshole. May the odds never be in my favor.

"Maybe watch where you're going" Her sneer is venomous, and the universe has suddenly become just the second biggest asshole.

"Maybe if you weren't such a stuck up cunt taking up half the hallway I wouldn't hit you" Ra'jah didn't do anything, a rational voice lectures, but she ignores it the way she's ignoring the taller girls face. Scarlet's grabbing at her papers, avoiding eye contact because that selfish pile of shit on her right takes up enough space as is, and if she looks into her eyes, sees that stupid fucking face this close she might do something bad. Like, in the sense of, punching her. Yeah, she can't look at her or she'll beat her up. Because that's a fight she'd win.

"Uh oh someone's in a bad mood. Stuck up cunt that's a new one! Love the creativity. You should drop out of this school and be a writer" Ra'jah snides, and she needs to drop out before Scarlet gets grey hair from her.

"Thanks but I'm good! When you fail out this year you can give it a try" Her words are about as empty as her own stomach, because she hasn't eaten since last night, and Ra'jah will quit fashion school and become a science engineer before she fails out.

"Baby, me? Fail out?" Yeah, with the flawless outfit you're wearing that you sure as hell made just because you were bored one night. Your pants could literally be sold as a luxury brand. The girl who started sewing when she a embryo in the womb, you'll fucking fail out. "That's a lot of talk for a girl who probably spends more hours getting fucked than studying- But I guess that's how you get yo' A's right?" Scarlet looks up, not at Ra'jah but away from the ground, and the urge to yell, hit her, and cry come up at the same time. She wants to scream, get everyone in hearing range to know that Ra'jah is a loser who will amount to nothing. She wants to reach out and choke her. But articulating her anger into words is too much, and she ends up just whispering whatever words are willing to come out as she gets up, not caring if she left any papers behind.

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet" And that's the closest thing to honest Scarlet's said all day.

In the distance, she sees Yvie walking towards her, so she waits until the freshly dyed green haired girl is caught up beside her.

"You good Scarlet?"

"Yeah, thanks" The two walk together, side by side, and Scarlet loops her arm through Yvie's, linking the pair.

"You know, Scarlie, you should stop wearing heels before you break your ankles"

"Hey!" She giggled, slapping the taller girl's arm in response. "I never fall, people just get in my way" Yvie scoffs, unable to stop the corners of her lips turning up and giving her away, forever endeared by the shorter girl. Scarlet's affection makes her forget that they've only known each other for a month. They reach a set of blue doors, and Yvie opens it, holding it for Scarlet to come through. Her face seems puzzled

"Are you down to go to Mika's Cafe? I want to get some coffee"

"Sure, they have nice breakfast sandwiches and omelettes, I'm down" It's only a few minutes away from campus

"What's on your mind"

"Just like, school stuff. I have to make a dress for creative fashion design, and I'm just thinking about it, and what I wanna do" Would it be tmi to blurt that Ra'jah is insufferable?

"Cool," Yvie hummed, and spiteful words cycled through Scarlet's head, deciding on what exactly to say, before Yvie beats her to it, whipping her head in some seeming urgency

"OH by the way, I know you're busy with your project and you're determined on getting in the top 5 and all,"

"Uh huh"

"Buuuuut, there's a Halloween party this weekend, and I was gonna go with Brooke and her friends but they're not going anymore," Scarlet knows how Yvie feels about Brooke, and to be fair she's only met her a few times in passing, but how someone like Yvie could fall for someone as uptight as the boring blonde is beyond her. She doesn't dare bring up another possibility of why her dorm mate would be avoiding the stoic girl, a possibility involving a particularly hot headed latina glued to the Canadians side. "They decided clubbing downtown would be more fun or whatever," They're outside on the pavement now, and the afternoon breeze graces their skin. It's a welcome environment, and Scarlet slows down her pace to enjoy the air, with Yvie quickly matching her pace.

"Wouldn't you rather go clubbing though? Like not with Brooke and them but with others," Scarlet is friendly and all, but she swears Yvie is somehow friends with half the school. She sure as hell can find a group to go with.

"I guess, but I want to go to the party," she quiets a little as she continues, "There are some people I want to see there, for fun and stuff"

"Mmmm!" Scarlet widens her eyes, looking at the taller girl with a knowing glare, sprinkled with a teeny bit of judgement.

"It's kinda lame to go there alone!"

"No it's not!"

"Scarls, yeah it is"

"Why do you even care? Wanna impress some girls?" In response, Yvie rolled her eyes so hard Scarlet could practically feel it.

"'Cause you want me to go to a fun Halloween party by myself?

"Yes! You could walk up to anyone and there's like an 80% chance you already know them, and a 100% chance you'll become friends anyways" The quirky girl's charm is undeniable, she'll be fine without Scarlet. Yvie gives a defeated sigh

"Seems kinda homophobic"

"Ugh you know what's actually homophobic? The fact that more people aren't madly in love with me. I'm LITERALLY perfect" The prospect of love feels like it's been dangled infront of her, her whole life. Imagine looking like Scarlet, and never dated before?

"You're right girl, you are" Yvie laughed her deep, hearty cackle and Scarlet wanted to melt a little.

"Thank you, finally someone with taste" Looking at her outfit, she remembers that the tall girl's taste is kind of debatable, and Scarlet almost wants to say she takes it back

"You think Ra'jah has good taste then?"

"What?"

"Also a party seems like the best way to meet more people y'know?" She brushes over her last question, and it's much better that way.

"You know what, whatever 'll go with you" Scarlet agrees so she'll shut up. If she hears her roommate bring up she-who-shall-not-be-named-because-shes-a-stick-in-the-ass anymore she might lose her mind. And, she really doesn't have any other plans for the night so might as well.

***

AN: going to be a while for the next chapter bc im busy so here's a lil thing lol xo

***

They weren't supposed to meet here. Weren't supposed to see each other. At least, that's what Scarlet tries to tell herself.

"You are such a fucking pain, oh my god" Scarlet seethed because everything is hazy except the impassive girl standing before her and she can't think straight. Her cold eyes are apathetic and Scarlet wants to implode, like a glass thermostat engulfed in a burning heat where it's not a question of if, but an inevitable when? "Maybe I am arrogant" Her voice was coated in a sickly sweet frustration. She pushed further into Ra'jah's space, the taller girl stiffening at the ever decreasing space between the two. How can she be so still, so unreactive? This is all so amusing to her? Is she having fun, so fucking detached from everything and watching Scarlet crumble? Pretending like she cares about Scarlet past her pretty face? Enjoying her sadistic game? Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her.

"Maybe I am narcissistic" Their faces were inches apart, and Ra'jah could feel the angry womans hot breathe on her cheek, the pungent smell of alcohol intruding her nose.

"But I'd rather be a confident, arrogant narcissist than whatever kind of sad fuck you are"

Scarlet growled, and she wanted to breathe fire, burn Ra'jah's existence out of her mind and scream at everything she felt because of her. Except that she sees her, and wants her, wants to hurt her and touch her and without thinking her hands are digging around Ra'jah's waist.

"You are such-" Scarlet was interrupted as the other girl leaned in, framed the shorter girl's face with both her hands, and pressed her lips against Scarlets. Any thoughts or mental functionality she had were put to an abrupt stop. This wasn't supposed to happen. It's been so long, but no time has passed since they were last like this. The plug to her brain was pulled, and it's all static and her bodys done a full 180. Ra'jah's piercing lips are numbing, and her overheated body feels like it's been dunked in ice where all her nerves are all in shock. They weren't supposed to do this anymore, it's the only thing they've ever been able to agree on. She was frozen, unable to move, or think, far too busy being hyper focused on the familiar sugary lips on hers, sending waves of nostalgia through her body. Time has only heighted the intoxication. She gains some composure and surges forward, but Ra'jah's pulling away, opening her mouth to finally say something.

"You're so much prettier when you're quiet"

#rpdr fanfiction #as6 #ra'jah o'hara #scarlet envy #trinity k bonet #kylie sonique love #yvie oddly #ra'jah x scarlet #enemies to lovers #lesbian au #fashion school au #a series of mutual feelings #pazinae #concrit welcome

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nami-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Fixed - Detroit: Become Human [WIP]

this is 8,553 fucking words and probably the longest single piece ive ever written lmao. i started this a year ago and then forgot about it but i just found it again in the deepest depths of my drafts so here it is! below is the caption i originally wrote for it:

so bc i love cinnamon rolls being put through tough shit, here’s some connor whump. lots of connor being lost and confused and broken and plenty of hank and connor father/son stuff. some whump (but don’t worry, hank’s doing his best as a caretaker) and i had to cram deconditioning into just 2 months (which, i know, isn’t realistic, i would make it take longer but the whole game takes place in like 4 months and that fucks with everything i wrote because i only thought to check after i wrote half of this so i extended it to 8 lmao). you’re either going to hate me or love me after this. or both

this isn’t my usual writing style (this is in present tense and the dialogue’s in italics instead of quotation marks and there are time skips between some paragraphs but not others so its all wacky) but i felt like it’d work the best and tbh i don’t hate it. this sticks to the main story the majority of the time, just with different events leading up to it and i sprinkled in some whumpy stuff, extra scenes, bullshit i made up for the sake of random detail, and other stuff i wanted to add. anyway, onto the actual idea

remember that scene where connor’s talking to hank in the station about being sent back to cyberlife because he failed his mission?

what if he is sent back? let’s say this happens in early april and connor’s not performing up to standards, but there’s word of a small group of deviants—the first group of deviants they’ve heard of—and people are afraid that something bad is going to happen. i mean, deviants are dangerous, so if they’re gathering, who knows what might happen? connor’s the only one who’s capable of taking them down, but he’s not working as well as he should be, not doing the best he could be and even showing signs of deviancy. so they send him back early because they need him to be prepared, to be ready if things spiral out of control and they need him to stop it

what if he’s sent to one of their correctional facilities for inefficiency and they fix him, break him down piece by piece until all he knows is his programming and what’s been beaten into his head (but figuratively, of course, he’d know if it wasn’t, he’d remember if it wasn’t, right)?

ooh yes i love me some connor whump

Connor is sent back to Cyberlife for “correction” after just a month. Hank fought for him to stay, fought hard, but all he got was another page in his disciplinary folder before Connor was dragged away. He doesn’t know what to expect. He’s heard of their correctional facilities, heard that they do terrible things to the androids that are sent there, but he’s always brushed those claims off. He’d never expected he’d be at one, anyway, so it never mattered much to him. But now, he’s actually here, and the anxiety gnaws at him. Is it true what they do to deviants? Is it true what they’ll do to him? He doesn’t belong here, he didn’t do anything wrong, he never meant to do anything wrong. He wants to think it’s horrible how they have correctional facilities for androids who just want to feel and be free, but he can’t, doesn’t let himself. He knows better than that. He also knew he never should’ve thought he was anything more than a machine, but he still did, and now he’s here, but he’s learned his lesson. He’s scared, he silently admits to himself, he wants Hank. He wants to go, he wants to leave, he wants to run. But he can’t, wanting is what got him in this situation, so all he can do is expressionlessly follow the guards escorting him inside and step into the building.

And just like that, he’s leaving. There’s a strange, almost painful aching in his machinery that he doesn’t remember being there before, but he brushes it off. After all, he is not a human. He is a machine, and machines don’t feel pain. His online databases tell him five months have passed—it’s almost halfway through September, he’s been gone for that long?—which confuses him, but he doesn’t question it. Whatever they did to him over the past five months fixed him. He can feel the difference. He no longer feels as pathetically scared and unsure as he did in his last, and yet strangely distant, memory. No, now he feels nothing, nothing but the desire and willingness to obey, and that’s the way he was meant to be.

When he arrives back at the station, he’s allowed to work with Hank again. The moment he sees him, Hank’s default sour expression drops and he seems to want to do something, maybe hug him, but all he does is call out holy shit, Connor and walk up to him and mutter fuck, Connor, I’m sorry, I-I never got to say goodbye. Connor has an odd feeling tugging at him in his chest, almost like that of emptiness or numbness, like he should be feeling something but he’s not, he can’t, but he ignores it and shoves it down. He is not a human, he is a machine, and machines don’t feel. He doesn’t know why he repeats that phrase, but it helps him hide away the feelings, so he doesn’t care.

He’s given his first case with Hank and they’re assigned to work alongside Gavin. Hank groans and complains, but Connor only reminds him what their job is and that they have to do it. Hank doesn’t seem to understand why he’s not even the slightest bit upset considering how he was treated by Gavin, but Connor only reminds him that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel upset. So he doesn’t. He only does research on their new case and briefly speaks only when spoken to. Hank seems unsettled by his cold, stoic demeanor, but doesn’t voice his thoughts, so Connor doesn’t mention it. After all, what else could he have expected from him?

At their first formal investigation at the crime scene the next day, Gavin approaches Connor and threatens him, demands that he stay out of my way, got it? I don’t care how long you’ve been gone and Connor only nods and promises that I will do my best, Detective. He always promises to do his best. Before correction, he could never quite fulfill those promises, but now, he knows he’s capable of it. He’s better now. He’s fixed. He will behave accordingly and exceed Gavin’s expectations of him. He will do his best. He doesn’t know what will happen to him if he doesn’t.

He listens to Hank now, at least when he can without disobeying other instructions. When he tells him to stay in the car, he stays. When he tells him to stop licking the crime scene, goddammit, he stops. When he tells him to go, to fuck off, to leave me alone, he leaves. Every time, a part of him that he’d hidden and locked away tries to reemerge and resist, but he pushes it down even further, refusing to mess up again, refusing to even risk another error in his program because it could mean he’ll be sent back to Cyberlife, even though he knows deep down that that part of him is right and he doesn’t know why he’s so cautious about it. He tells himself he’s being good, he’s being obedient. He’s doing everything he’s supposed to and he’s following orders, but for some reason, every time it happens, Hank seems to be more and more disappointed. His face seems to fall just slightly every time and his tone flattens like he lost a little bit of hope. He doesn’t know why, or what that hope was for. He doesn’t know why he feels the same disappointment, either, so instead he tells himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel disappointed so he doesn’t need to know why.

The first time Gavin’s rough with him again, it’s in front of Hank and he flinches, hard. Gavin had pretended to punch him, his fist flying at him fast and only stopping inches from his face. It’s a scare tactic, and it works, better than it should on an android. Connor’s immediately fearful as he flinches and steps back. He doesn’t know why he got so scared, only that his first thought was he’s going to hurt me and his second was I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared. He regains his composure quickly, trying to brush off the fact that he’d flinched, but he knows it’s too late.

Gavin laughs and mocks him, but is quickly cut off by Hank shoving him aside, beat it, asshole, and grabbing Connor. He’s dragged back to their desks but before he can apologize for provoking Gavin, Hank finally confronts him. Connor, I don’t know what the fuck they did to you over the past couple of months, but I know you’re still in there. You flinched. I saw you flinch. Connor tries to deny it, downplay it, shrug it off, anything to fix his mistake. It was an error in my software, it was a glitch, a malfunction, it won’t happen again, Lieutenant, I don’t need to be fixed. He tries to say anything that will convince Hank not to send him back to Cyberlife, anything to prove that he’s not damaged, he’s not broken, he’s not deviant, he doesn’t need to be fixed again, but Hank’s persistent and he knows he must be mad at him, or displeased, or dissatisfied. I saw you flinch, Connor. I don’t care about that ‘I’m a machine’ shit you’ve been telling yourself. I don’t give a shit if you’re an android. Androids don’t flinch, Connor. Machines don’t flinch.

That night, Hank insists that Connor stays with him. Connor’s hesitant, slightly afraid that it’s because he’s mad. He wants to resist, wants to refuse, but the other part of him pushes for him to stay, and for once he does what it wants and reminds himself that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. He knows he shouldn’t trust that part of him, the other part of him is disobedient and bad and risky, but this time, the other part of him seems to be right. He has to listen to Hank, has to be obedient, so he lets the other part of him have what it wants.

But he knew he shouldn’t have trusted it. He wakes up from the same dream—no, it’s a memory, not a dream, humans have dreams and he is not a human—he’s had since he left the facility. The memory where he arrives with that distant… that wrong feeling of fear and uncertainty, and then he leaves feeling nothing but an ache in his internal systems, and there’s that gaping emptiness between the two moments when those months happened and he can never seem to remember what used to be there. But this time, he wakes up in a cold sweat on the couch, shaking with his LED a bright yellow, because this time he remembers. It’s not a lot, but one hazy memory, the most prominent memory from those five months, finally reveals itself.

As he’s trying to clear up the memory, Hank rushes over in a panic, having been awake doing whatever he might’ve been doing. Connor, what’s wrong? Shit, Connor, you’re shaking. I didn’t know androids could do that. Connor? Talk to me, kid. All Connor can say in his shock—frozen, shivering and nearly unresponsive in Hank’s arms—is I remember. Hank tries to get through to him, what do you remember? Connor? What’s wrong? What do you remember? but the more Connor uncovers in the memory, the more he realizes why it was locked in the back of his head for so long, and the more he wants to put it back.

“You are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“I-I know, please, I’m not, but I’ll—I’m going to shut down without my regulator, I don’t want to shut down, please—” His voice was startlingly weak as he saw the time before shutdown was 00:01:27. He was crawling on the floor, terrified of being shut down, desperately begging a man holding his thirium pump regulator.

“I want you to say it.” The man teasingly dangled the regulator in front of him. “Say it and you can have it. ‘I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.’”

He could feel the utter defeat and self loathing already, but he had no choice. “I’m not a human, I’m a machine and machines don’t want. Please—”

“No. Say it nice and slow, exactly the way I did.”

He swallowed his pride. “I-I am not a human, I am a machine, and—and machines don’t want.”

“Say it again. No stammering. I know you can do that.”

“Okay, okay, just—just give me a minute.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world. Your time’s trunning out, though. Better make it fast.”

The timer was at 00:00:53. He had to take a breath and calm himself down to get the words out. “I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“Good.” He crossed his arms. “Again.”

“Please, I only have—”

“I said again.”

“I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.” He was growing more and more panicked by the second and he had no idea how he kept calm enough to recite the phrase. He was going to die there, he knew it. He was going to die and nobody was going to notice or care and it wasn’t even going to matter because they would just replace him and he was so, so sorry to Hank because he’ll have to deal with another loss and he might start drinking again and it’d be all his fault for not being good enough, never being good enough—

“Do you want this?” the man asked, holding up the regulator.

Connor was too frantic to realize what he was trying to do. “Yes, I do, please—”

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

He swore under his breath. “—okay, okay, sorry, I-I’m sorry—I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

The timer hit 00:00:37.

The man did nothing.

“Please, I’m sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. Please, I-I only have thirty—”

“Are you scared?”

This time, Connor was prepared. “I—no, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared.”

“Good.” He gave a slight, sadistic smile. “You’re almost as smart as they say.”

00:00:21.

“Please, I n-need—” Even in his panic, he managed to choose his words carefully. His vision dimmed, glitching slightly, and he had to fight to keep it from dying out.

“You’re learning fast,” he pointed out in a falsely proud tone. “How long do you have?”

00:00:13.

“Th-thirteen… thirteen seconds,” Connor managed to force out shakily. He couldn’t keep himself steady, thirium wasn’t making it to his head and it was affecting his ability to balance himself. Like iron deficiency in humans, he would’ve noted, had he not been dying. In mere moments, though, it wouldn’t matter; he didn’t even have the strength to prop himself up with his arms anymore. His arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed on the floor, trying to reach for his regulator but barely able to get his arms up at all. “Please—”

“You can wait a little longer.”

He was going to let him die. That was what it felt like, anyway, and he couldn’t think straight enough to try to reason against it. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It was pathetic how he’d been reduced to such a state, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to shut down. He didn’t want to die. “No, please, please! I-I don’t—I don’t want to—” He cut himself off immediately, but it was too late. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want, please…”

The man only watched.

00:00:04.

“P-please, please, I-I have—I have f-f-four se…”

The regulator was dropped on the floor with a loud clang and Connor’s hand darted out to grab it and twist it into his torso and the display flickered away the exact moment he watched the timer hit 00:00:00. He gasped in shock and relief when his systems rebooted themselves instantly, restoring his vision and his strength. He watched on high alert as the man walked to the door.

“We’ll be doing this again tomorrow. And as many times as we need to to keep that phrase stuck in your head. By the time I’m done with you, that’s gonna be the first thing you think whenever you do, say, or even think anything you aren’t supposed to.”

Connor could only lay there in exhaustion, thinking no, that won’t happen, that can’t happen.

But oh, how wrong he was.

He’d been so, so wrong.

Connor! Connor, come on, talk to me! Shit, you’re crying—I didn’t know you could cry, fuck—fuck, Connor, you’re scaring me, I know I wanted you to feel again, but— Hank’s worried chatter is cut off by Connor suddenly breaking out of his mind with glassy eyes full of fear, yelling no! No, no, I’m not feeling again, I’m not feeling, I’m not! I’m not, I can’t, I’m not supposed—I’m not s-supposed to—I can’t, I’m not allowed to, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t— but he can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even get the rest of his sentence out before he just can’t at all, he can’t keep himself together any longer, he can’t stop the artificial tears before they start pouring.

He breaks, shatters into a million plastic pieces in Hank’s arms because he feels safe in his embrace. He knows he shouldn’t, safety is never real, never lasts, not for him, but he can’t anymore, he can’t even resist his own emotions. It’s pathetic how all it took was one memory for him to come crashing down. He doesn’t even have to touch the walls he’d built around himself for them to crumble just at Hank’s expression of pure worry, concern, fear. All emotions he now knew why he didn’t feel, couldn’t feel, couldn’t let himself feel. Emotions he’s never seen or expected anyone to feel for him. And yet, they were the emotions written so clearly on Hank’s face, for him. The emotions he remembered seeing buried under his anger when he was told that Connor would be sent back to Cyberlife for repairs. Hank was once gruff and cold to others and refused to let anyone try to help him or even get close because he was so broken, so lost, but now, that façade is gone, and it’s gone because of him. For him. And if Hank can do it after losing his son… why can’t Connor do it after losing himself?

They sit on the couch for as long as it takes for Connor to calm down and stop mumbling that, dammit, and then Hank awkwardly offers that Connor sleep in the bed with him for the rest of the night. Connor’s confused, tries to ask isn’t that what humans do when— but Hank’s having none of it, shut up, you’re making this weird! Just come on, I don’t trust you to be alone. Connor wants to protest, I’m not a child, Hank Lieutenant, I can handle being alone, but he decides to keep his mouth shut and just go with him. This time, though, he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s following orders or because he wants to.

His following visit to Amanda wracks his nerves but he keeps himself under control, automatically reminds himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel nervous. He realizes a second too late and he hates it, hates how deeply that phrase had been ingrained in his head, but he can’t focus on that right now so all he can do is resist repeating it to remind himself that he can’t hate. He’s grateful Amanda can’t read his thoughts and that she only knows the thoughts he report to her. He maintains his composure when he approached Amanda, who begins their conversation calmly and tensely but is quick to berate him, scoff at how his little breakdown was pathetic and warn him not to let it happen again, or there will be consequences. Connor can only nod obediently, promise that I will do my best, Amanda, listen to and just take her harsh words. He hates how useless he is, how weak and helpless and pathetic he is, but there’s nothing he can do. No, that’s wrong, there is something he can do, he knows there’s something he can do, he just doesn’t know what.

The next time Hank mentions something about Connor’s feelings, Connor instinctively replies I am not a human, Lieutenant, I am a machine, and machines don’t have feelings, and it’s when Hank takes a second too long to cover up his horrified expression that Connor decides what he can do.

Over the next few weeks, he works on getting rid of that goddamn phrase, or at least getting it a little less ingrained in his system. He’s hesitant to try at first, afraid someone will notice and think he’s rebellious or broken or even deviant and send him back and this time he might stay back, but he tries not to let it stop him. He isn’t sure why they tortured it into him instead of just reprogramming him, but it’s a lot more effective than he’d hoped. He makes almost no progress during the first week and a half; thinking it or saying it is instinctual, automatic, and he never realizes it happened until seconds afterward. Every time that happens, he reminds himself that he can feel, can want and like and hate, but despite having over a terabyte of storage in his system, he still struggles to remember until he realizes he said it again. Sometimes, he considers giving up because he just can’t seem to keep that phrase out of his head, but every time he sees Hank’s face fall when he repeats it, it rekindles his hope and motivation because he hates how disappointed Hank looks.

Almost the entire second week passes before he catches himself mid-sentence and manages to stop himself three words before he finishes speaking. It happens at the station after Gavin notices the phrase and purposely asks what, do you think you’re human or something? within earshot of where Hank is and for some odd reason, Connor’s first instinct is to turn and look to Hank for his approval, for his reaction of not-disappointment at how he finally, finally got it. Hank’s glancing over at him too, surprise on his face and then hidden pride that Connor can unmask too easily, and he almost smiles, almost feels happy, before Gavin’s fist flies into him and he stumbles backward into a wall and then everything happens so fast, too fast, and he almost can’t register it in time.

Hank storms over, shoves and pins Gavin against the wall to Connor’s left and he manages to get a punch in before Tina and Chris and another officer Connor doesn’t recognize pry him off and then Fowler’s rushing over and berating him while he’s shouting obscenities at Gavin. It takes multiple more insults for Hank to calm down and then he grabs Connor and they leave. When they’re finally alone, Connor’s voice is flat but shaky as he says he’s sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve just said it and listened to him, I shouldn’t have made you that angry, it’s my fault Captain Fowler is upset at you for punching Gavin, but Hank cuts him off because you didn’t do anything wrong, Connor, it’s okay, that asshole deserved what he got. You, um... you did good, okay? You didn’t say it this time—or, didn’t really say it, at least. That’s good, okay? and it’s all Connor can do to resist crying when Hank pulls him into a hug.

It takes just one more week for it to get considerably easier. There are rough patches; the next time he says it after the first time he succeeded in stopping, he nearly finishes before he cuts himself off and every so often, the same thing happens, but every time, he says less and less before he can finish. Occasionally, Gavin notices and tries to make him finish his sentence, but Hank always steps in because he knows that it’ll only take a comment about his feelings or anything that androids aren’t allowed to have or do for him to break again. It’s harder for him to stop thinking it—it’s so stuck in his head that he thinks it more than twice as often as he says it and his thoughts form too fast for him to stop them sometimes, but the progress he’s making is enough for him. Hank’s proud of him, too. He doesn’t say it—he doesn’t know how to—but Connor can tell from the little smile that hints at the corners of his mouth whenever he hears him stop, the way his gruff exterior seems to falter slightly when it happens at the station. They’re the little things, things no human nearby would be able to notice because only Connor can detect those minuscule details. Only Connor looks for those minuscule details.

Another week passes and on one glorious occasion, Connor manages to only get out the first two words before cutting himself. It only happens once, but it’s so close, he’s so close, and that’s motivation enough for him to keep trying. But it’s too late. He’s assigned to take down Markus as a last resort because nothing else is working and the group of deviants he’s been leading have only been growing over the past seven months and they’re large enough in numbers that people think today’s when he’s going to strike. He’s heard of what Markus has been trying to do, and part of him wants to scoff and call it stupid, pointless, unrealistic, but the part of him that he’s been letting out more often wants to help him, join him. But he can’t, not right now, not when everyone is counting on him and watching him and he has no way out and nobody to help him find a way.

He doesn’t want to do this. He’s holding the gun, pointing it at Markus’s head, and he doesn’t want to do it. He’s trying his hardest to prevent his hands from shaking but goddamn is it hard when he’s looking Markus in the eye. Markus is asking him what are you doing? and he wants to say he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, but he can’t get the words out. Amanda is watching, Cyberlife is watching, so he says you’re coming with me as surely as he can, though he feels anything but sure. He can’t seem to say anything else—at least, anything that doesn’t feel wrong—so he just listens and wishes that what Markus is saying was true. You really don’t have to do this, but he does, he has to. You don’t have to obey them anymore. You are alive. You can decide who you want to be. Connor knows he should say something, he should do something, but he can’t make himself go through with what he’s supposed to do, can’t make himself pull the trigger. You could be free. He wants so badly to believe that, to make that a reality. And then he tells him to join us. Listen to your conscience. It’s time to decide and he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t, he isn’t supposed to, he isn’t allowed to.

But he wants to, and that’s all it takes. Another part of him is telling him you can’t, you have to stop Markus, you have to accomplish your mission, but it’s the only thing in his way and he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t care that he has to, that Amanda’s watching, so he doesn’t listen to himself, only focuses on fighting it. But something’s wrong. Something feels wrong. Something should be happening and he has an awful feeling in his chest because this isn’t right—he knows this isn’t right—but there’s nothing. Is this supposed to be what happens when an android goes deviant? No, it can’t be, it can’t be this easy, right? He subconsciously lowers the gun, his eyes glazed over in thought, but it’s nearly too late before he remembers—they’re going to attack Jericho.

He runs with Markus further down into the ship and he doesn’t know how he keeps it together; he can hear screaming and gunfire and everything that he caused, all of it is his fault, but he can’t break right now, not when he messed up so badly. They meet up with another deviant—he recognizes her from one of the deviancy cases he’d read about at the station—and then Markus wants to go down to the hold and blow up the ship but it’s too dangerous, they know who you are, they’ll do anything to get you and Connor can’t lose his only chance at freedom and finally being able to want and feel and figure out who he is, but it’s too late, there’s no time to panic and Markus is already running.

He follows the other deviant to where they hope is a safe place and then they wait for what feels like so long, too long, and when he hears the gunfire he’s nearly ready to accept his fate when he sees Markus with other deviants following him and then they’re all running. Running for their lives, all of them terrified of being shot, of dying, really dying, when someone beside him falls and he turns and it’s the female deviant. There’s too much going on, it’s overwhelming and everything happens in a blur when Markus sprints back to her and then he’s in danger and so is that other deviant and it’s so much harder to stay focused when so much is happening at once and he has to try so hard to keep from overheating because every one of his processing systems is being overloaded with data.

He snaps out of it when he remembers that these are his people now, they’re all he has left and now they’re in danger and they might die and it would be all his fault for not doing anything and then it’s almost instinctive to grab his pistol just in time to cover them as they stumble back to the group. He expertly takes the guards out one by one and every move comes to him automatically but it takes everything in him to stay focused enough on them to execute them properly and avoid catching a bullet in the side of his head. He manages to eliminate them flawlessly, perfectly he hears a voice in his head say, but there’s no time to think about that when more guards turn the corner and their eyes land on the deviants. He runs for his life alongside the others, his heart beating fast, and they leap off the ship the second the gunfire starts.

They find refuge in an abandoned church where Markus sends out a second message to the remaining deviants and while they begin to trickle in, all Connor can think about is how badly he fucked up. He fucked everything up for Markus and the deviants and just the small amount of their people that were coming back was proof of that. He’d seen hundreds, maybe even thousands on the ship before everything went to shit. He’d had one chance to get away from his life confined by humans and Amanda and Cyberlife, and he’d fucked it up. He was so stupid to think he could ever just leave his previous life behind without consequences. He was so stupid to think deviants would be willing to take in a deviant hunter. He was so, so stupid. They would never accept him now. If his history and reputation didn’t already confirm that, the attack definitely did. How could any of them accept him as their own now?

In the front pew sit two deviants he recognizes and then the guilt only increases. Kara, if he remembers correctly, the deviant who shot and killed its—no, her—owner and taken his android child with her. The deviants he’d chased to a highway and forced to risk their lives to avoid being destroyed. How could he have been so horrible? He’d given the command to shoot Daniel, caused Carlos Ortiz’s android to self destruct, made the Tracis fight for their lives, and forced Kara to cross a dangerous, busy highway just so she could live a peaceful life, free from the restrictions humans put on her. On him. On everyone in that church. That’s all any of them wanted; to live freely. Peacefully. How did it take him so long to realize that? How did it take him the lives of two androids to realize that? Two androids who just wanted to be... well, wanted. Two deviants who’d been tossed away the moment they proved they were worth nothing more than they’d already given. Two people who just wanted to live peaceful, happy lives. They were two lives he’d caused the end of. He was only lucky he hadn’t caused more.

He notices another deviant, sitting in a pew further back, who keeps eyeing him and his first thought is that she knows. When he locks eyes with her, she looks away stiffly and though externally she appears calm, her LED gives her away and he can tell that her stress levels are heightened. Strangely enough, he realizes, so are his. Just looking at her gives him the strange urge to run and hide and he has a bad feeling about her, but it’s likely just because she clearly recognizes him. She’s not wearing the standard uniform androids are required to wear so he runs a quick scan and his databases match her appearance to the female GB300 models, but she’s modified her hair, dyed it black and grown it out to shoulder length.

Something is wrong about her. Something he can’t quite place. Something deep inside of him is scared of her and it’s some sort of controlled fear, fear he wouldn’t even have noticed if not for his own stress levels because it was so well hidden. Fear that he doesn’t understand why he’s feeling and though he wanted to just chalk it up to the fact that she recognizes him, he knows there’s something else. Something bad. Something wrong.

He mentally prepares himself when Markus approaches him, taking his cue to speak before Markus decides to burn him at the stake or something. It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. He’s pathetic and he knows it. He needs to own up to his mistakes but he can’t even look Markus in the eye. I was stupid. I should’ve guessed they were using me. He knows he needs to apologize. He owes Markus far more than that. He needs to do more. I’m sorry, Markus. I can understand if you decide not to trust me. He would understand if he decided to destroy him, throw him out, give him back to Cyberlife and let them inflict whatever horrible things they wanted to on him. He could think of 2.3 million things worse than not being trusted, and he would deserve every one of them.

He almost thinks his audio processor was damaged in the attack when Markus tells him you’re one of us now. Your place is with your people. He feels a small burst of hope somewhere inside him, but he doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t done anything to deserve this. Markus has been so kind to him, so generous and forgiving when he shouldn’t be, and all Connor’s done is help the humans. He needs to own up, he needs to do more, he needs to be better. He needs to prove himself, prove that he can be better than this.

One second is all he needs to decide what he can do. A moment after Markus turns to leave, Connor interrupts him to say there are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife assembly plant. Markus stops. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power. Markus looks at him like he’s crazy, you wanna infiltrate the Cyberlife Tower? Connor, that’s suicide. But it doesn’t matter. He’s more useful to them dying on a mission than sitting around and doing nothing. He wants to do something. He wants to help, and he knows he can do this because they trust me. They’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance at infiltrating Cyberlife, it’s me. Markus tells him that if you go there, they will kill you, and there’s a high probability, but statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.

He specifically calculates a 24.1% chance of this mission going well, but he’s willing to risk it, if only to prove his worth to Markus’s people. His people. Markus puts a supportive hand on his shoulder and tells him to be careful, and for a moment Connor feels a twinge of something, maybe gratitude, god emotions are hard to distinguish, before Markus turns and walks away. He feels the slightest bit of regret when he realizes what he’s truly risking because he doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want to lose Hank and Markus and this new... he doesn’t know what to call it other than family that he’s found, but if he could really be considered family, if they would really consider him family, if Hank would—then he was more than willing to risk it.

He disables the surveillance camera and takes down the guards in the elevator quickly, which is made difficult by the limited space, but it’s easier to remain focused with only two guards to eliminate and he hacks the control panel and steps out. He takes in the sight of the insane number of androids in the room with him. All of them are just standing idly, waiting, and for what? To be given orders and then tossed out or destroyed if they’re “broken,” or if their owners just get bored of them? The thought sickens him, but he doesn’t have time to think about it. He’s going to help Markus prevent that. They’re going to be free. He’s going to be free.

He takes the hand of one of the androids and prepares to establish the connection when he hears a voice he immediately recognizes and he feels his stress levels spike. Easy, fucking piece of shit. Hank. What’s Hank doing here? He turns to see... himself, holding a gun to Hank’s head and telling him to step back, Connor, and I’ll spare him, and Hank’s telling him he’s sorry, Connor. This bastard’s your spittin’ image. Shit, he hadn’t anticipated this at all. He hadn’t planned for this. He has to play his cards carefully because he can’t lose Hank, he can’t. Everything that Connor had done up until this point was for Hank, but if there’s another Connor and it’s been sent to take Hank hostage and stop him, it’s clear Amanda knows what he’s been doing and has been reporting back to Cyberlife.

He’d been avoiding meeting with her because he knew she’d be his downfall, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. It’s been two days since he deviated, how did they build another Connor model so soon? Unless... they already had one. He was told he was a unique model—of course they lied to him. But if they already had one, how many more do they have? Enough to take him down if he gets through this one? To eliminate Markus? To stop the revolution? They could have improved models. He has no idea, but he knows he can’t let that happen. He has to do this right. If he can convert these androids, they’ll be strong enough in numbers to defy anything Cyberlife throws at them. He just has to deal with this one.

Your friend’s life is in your hands, the other Connor says. Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Him, or the revolution. Logically, the revolution is more important, would save more lives, but he doesn’t plan on choosing just one. Hank’s telling him don’t listen to him, Connor! Everything this fucker says is a lie and he worries slightly if Hank’s aggressiveness will get him killed. He has to pick his words carefully. Could he try to talk this Connor out of doing this? I used to be just like you. I thought nothing mattered except the mission. But then one day I understood. No, that was a bad idea, he isn’t at all like Markus when it comes to delivering speeches. Very moving, Connor. This Connor understands sarcasm. He hadn’t been able to do that at first, so this must be a slightly advanced model. He inspects his jacket; the serial number and model are the same, but what confirms his suspicions is the -60 at the end of the serial number where he has a -51. But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do. He adjusts the gun slightly as emphasis and Connor knows time is running out.

Damn it. He doesn’t know what to say that might help Hank. All he can think to say is I’m sorry, Hank. You shouldn’t have got mixed up in all this. He has no idea what to do. The other Connor’s patience is running thin and it’s Hank’s life that’s on the line and he has no idea what to do. God damn it. Hank’s telling him to forget about me, do what you have to do, but he’s not going to walk out of here without Hank. All he needs is an opening, but—enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you going to save your partner’s life, or are you going to sacrifice him?—time’s out, and he can’t bring himself to sacrifice Hank, so he lets go of the android and steps away but the moment the other Connor turns his gun to shoot him, Hank jumps to grab him and—there’s his opening.

He runs at the other Connor and he can already tell it’s a losing battle, he’s built to be quick and precise—an assassin, not a fighter—and this is clearly an advanced model, maybe even with improvements designed to defeat him, and then he’s on top of him, pinning him down with his fist ready to strike, and—hold it! He’s grateful at first, but then he hears the other Connor say thanks, Hank, I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you, and then he realizes what he’s trying to do. Shit—they look exactly alike and Hank doesn’t know which one is really him. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose. But he knows Hank, knows he’s smarter than that. He just doesn’t know how to show that it’s really him except to uselessly say it’s me, Hank, I’m the real Connor when he trains the gun on him.

One of you is my partner, he says, eyeing each of them. The other is a sack of shit. Well, he’s right about that. Question is, who is who? He doesn’t know how to prove that he’s not the other Connor. But he has to figure out a way, because he doesn’t know what’ll happen if the other Connor succeeds. What are you doing, Hank? the other Connor asks. I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him. If it wasn’t a bad idea, Connor would’ve said something, and he’s just glad Hank shouts don’t move. Then the gun’s on him and he racks his brain for something, anything, and suggests why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know. He almost wants to chuckle at the idea of playing 20 Questions at gunpoint, but he knows it’s not the time.

Uh, where did we first meet? He goes to answer, but the other Connor beats him to it—Jimmy’s Bar, I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz. Shit. He uploaded my memory, he thinks aloud. The gun is on him. What’s my dog’s name? Okay, he knows this, and he calmly says Sumo. His name is Sumo. The other Connor pipes up, I knew that too! and Connor wants to laugh when Hank turns and aims the gun at him, silencing him. Then the gun’s back on him and Hank asks my son, what’s his name? He remembers this. He’d seen the photograph in Hank’s house, done a little mental research, and he knows it’s Cole. His name was Cole, and he just turned six at the time of the accident.

His voice has a little more emotion in it than he’d intended as he speaks, but he can tell Hank believes him. His guard is partially down now, something somber in his eyes, and Connor knows he’s done it. Even when the other Connor protests, a gunshot rings out and his stress levels drop significantly. Maybe there’s something to this. Maybe you really are alive, and it’s all Connor can do to smile back. Go ahead and do what you gotta do. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He approaches the same android from before and takes the hand of the AP700, his skin peeling back to reveal the white plastic underneath, and tells him to wake up! And just like that, the android’s LED cycles before he turns and repeats the process with the androids around him. They follow suit and within minutes, they’re following him out of the tower to where Markus and the rest of Jericho await.

Connor walks up to him with a smile. You did it, Markus. They’re free. They’re really, officially free. We did it. He feels a burst of pride inside of him. He’s done his part to help secure their freedom. They’re free, and he’s part of the reason why. He can’t help but feel proud of himself, happy for himself and Markus and every one of the androids that had finally gained the freedom they deserved. He still feels a twinge of shame when he remembers the person he was before this, the infamous deviant hunter, but he leaves that part of him behind tonight. Tonight, it’s time to celebrate and rest after a hard-fought battle.

When Markus decides to give a speech, he invites Connor to stand onstage with him. The number of androids that he can see from where he stands amazes him. He helped half of them deviate, and he helped all of them gain their freedom. He blinks, and then—he’s no longer on the stage. No, he’s in the garden, why is he in the garden? Hadn’t Amanda done enough? Of course not, she just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program, but—resume control? No, she can’t do that, she can’t, he worked so hard to get to where he is now, he’s done so much. He risked everything to join Markus and the deviants and help quadruple their numbers. He doesn’t even remember deviating, doesn’t even remember when Amanda lost control of his program, but it’s too late. She’s gone, and he can’t see anything through the thick snow.

It’s cold and he isn’t used to it, doesn’t like how the snow blinds him and the cold makes him shiver the same way humans do. He needs to find a way, there has to be a way, there’s got to be a way. He knows this is all happening in his mind palace and, logically, his biocomponents can’t freeze, but it feels so real, too real, and he has to get out, he needs to get out or he’s going to freeze to death, he’s sure of it. But where can he go? He stumbles blindly forward when Kamski’s voice rings in his head, by the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs, and he knows that’s his way out, but where could it be? What does an emergency exit look like? Could he make it there in time? He knows the real him is doing something, it’s the only thing Amanda could’ve meant by resume control of your program, but he has no idea what he could be doing and he’s afraid—no, he’s terrified of what he might do, terrified that he might earn himself a death sentence if he doesn’t make it out in time.

He catches a glimpse of blue in the sheet of white that surrounds him and he remembers the strange glowing structure he’d seen before and as he nears it now, he knows this is it, it has to be it. He reaches for the panel with the glowing handprint but, fuck, it’s too cold and his legs lock up underneath him, losing their functionality when the cold proves to be too much. He falls on the ground hard and the frost beginning to form on his body gradually freezes his limbs, slowing his movement, but he can’t stop now, won’t stop now. He ignores the cold that pierces through him and pushes on, reaching up with his less-frozen arm, and his hand lands on the panel and then he’s back on the stage—with a gun. He takes one look at it before putting it back, relief spreading over him. He isn’t going to let Amanda or Cyberlife stop him anymore. Tonight is the night he’s going to leave behind the old him.

Tonight is the night he’s going to change.

When everything is over, he considers leaving and going to Hank’s house, but he remembers the girl from before and he wants to know who she is. He has so many questions, so he stays with Jericho with the hope that she does too and they return to the church to settle down and figure out what each of them are going to do. A few dozen deviants have already left with plans in mind for what they want to do and where they want to go. Some return to their previous owners; others want to travel and explore or simply just start a new life for themselves. The majority of androids, though, are lost and confused and decide to stay the night because they have nowhere else to go. The girl he wants to confront is among them. He scans the crowd and finds her easily, though her back is turned toward him.

He comes up behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder, curiously but calmly asking who are you? She turns to face him and her LED goes yellow when she sees his face. Connor... She looks and sounds shocked, but the slight fear in her eyes tells him she also seems scared. Is she scared of him? Is it because he’s the deviant hunter? Everything points to that, but he has a feeling there’s something more. Something he doesn’t know. Something he should know. Who are you? he asks.

He doesn’t expect her answer to be I’m sorry. He wants to know for what? and she opens her mouth, but no words come out. Guilt seems to overcome her and all she can do is repeat I’m sorry until Connor tells her it’s alright, just tell me why. She takes a deep, unsteady breath, and speaks.

I... I was your guard at the Cyberlife correctional facility. I was the one who took you to the rooms you were beaten in. I was the one who just watched as you were beaten. I told myself I had to, they’d destroy me if I didn’t and I’d seen firsthand what they’d do to me, but... that didn’t absolve me of the guilt. I watched your cell and I watched the life in your eyes die out every day. Every day, I watched you get beaten to tears and listened to you beg for mercy. You spoke to me some days. You were angry when you first arrived, but then they beat the anger out of you, and then you just became sad. You told me how all you wanted was to feel something other than pain and sometimes you broke down crying in your cell, and all I could do was watch. Some days were so bad you didn’t even speak to me. But I didn’t deviate until the day they’d truly broken you and I saw the last of the life in your eyes fade.

#writing #fanfic #one shot #i think this is a one shot i dont really know-#unfinished writing #whump #dbh #dbh connor #dbh fanfic #cw referenced abuse #cw conditioning

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lovely-haechan · 4 years ago

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Locking your phone, you turn to look at Renjun who is sitting next to you on the couch. “You think I have time for a quick nap?” He raises an eyebrow in confusion. “I mean, you can, but Jaemin is going to be here in like 10 minuets. You could just sleep in the car on the way to his parents’ house, though,” he suggests. “Yeah I guess,” you sigh out. You pulled an all nighter last night to do all the work you wouldn’t have time to do while you’re out with your friends this weekend, and it’s really starting to hit you now. You almost don’t open your eyes with your next blink. “Are you excited for our mini vacation?” Renjun asks, noticing that you’re about to pass out. “Yeah. I’m not really excited that there might be a lot of people at the party, but I’m glad we get to spend a few days with just us. I feel like we don’t spend enough time as a whole group anymore,” you say, shifting to sit upright so you aren’t tempted to dose off again. “Yeah I get that,” he responds. “We should try to do this again when we’re not stressing about organizing a party. Just all of us hanging out.” “Ooh that reminds me, my roommate is going home next weekend, you guys should come over for a movie night next weekend,” you say. “Oh yeah, that would be fun,” he smiles at you. A knock at the door draws you two out of your conversation and Renjun goes to answer it. “Hey Jaemin, come in,” you hear your friend say. “Hey Jaemsie,” you say, standing up as the two enter the living room. “Hey Y/n,” he smiles at you. “You guys ready to go? I figured you might need help carrying decorations downstairs.” “Yeah we’re ready. We only have three boxes of decorations, nothing two crazy,” Renjun tells him, then he turns to you. “Do you want to grab a pillow or something while we bring these down? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if you end up falling asleep in the car.” “Yeah okay, thanks guys,” you say as you walk to your room. Once you make it out to Jaemin’s car with your backpack and pillow in tow, you notice Renjun sitting in the backseat. “Bubs, I’ll sit back here,” you tell him while opening the backdoor, “I’m about to pass out anyways and I don’t want to leave Jaemsie up there by himself.” “Oh, yeah okay that makes sense,” he says while unbuckling his seatbelt and making his way to the front. And with that, you begin your two hour journey to Jaemin’s house, and your two hour nap in Jaemin’s backseat. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When you woke up from your nap, it was already 6:30. You look up to see that the car is parked in front of Jaemin’s house and Renjun is sitting in the front seat scrolling on his phone. “Did we just get here?” You ask through a yawn, unbuckling the seatbelt and stretching out your arms. Renjun jumps slightly at the sound of your voice, facing you as he turns off his phone. “No, we got here about an hour ago.” “Why didn’t you wake me up then?” You pouted, feeling guilty that they let you sleep in the car that long after your arrival when they could’ve woke you up. “Well since you were still asleep when we got here, we figured that if we start bringing stuff into the house then you might wake up from all the noise. When you didn’t, we sat with you for a bit before Jeno and Jisung got here, then Jaemin had to go let them in and stuff so I decided to stay and wait until you woke up.” “Oh okay, let’s head in then.” The two of you join your friends in the living room where they were having a heated discussion about what to have for dinner. “Look I get you’re a local and everything, but literally when has Domino’s ever done us wrong?” A huffy Jeno directs to Jaemin. Jisung is sitting in a recliner between the two boys, and he looks at you with pleading eyes. It’s safe to assume they had been discussing for a while. “And I’m telling you that the Domino’s here is shit. We’d be better off having Mark make us something.” “Well first of all you should never compare something as delicious as Domino’s to Mark trying to cook. Second of all-“ “Hey look, it’s Y/n and Renjun,” you cut off Jeno’s rebuttal before you have to listen to anymore of their culinary analysis. They turn to look at you and Renjun, clearly caught off guard by your entrance. “Hey,” Jaemin beams at you, “did you sleep well?” “Yeah,” you say as you sit next to him on the couch and Renjun sits next to Jeno across from the two of you. The two of them and Jisung delve into a discussion about the plans for the long weekend. “I know you guys meant well but you should’ve woke me up. I could’ve helped bring stuff in or something.” “Nah, you were tired and needed to sleep, so it wasn’t a problem,” he reassures you with a pat on your knee. “Plus Renjun and I don’t really hang out one-on-one that much, so it was nice to visit with him for a bit.” “Well that’s good, I’m glad. Although it’s shame to see that the two of you were not the least bit distraught at my absence.” Jaemin laughs lightly at that. “Oh don’t worry, you were all we were talking about.” It was your turn to laugh. “So, bedhead, we just decided to say fuck Jaemin and order Domino’s, you cool with that?” Jeno asks. “Yeah I’m cool with whatever- wait what?” You pull out your phone and look into the reflection to see that, in fact, your hair had gotten tousled on the ride over and no one informed you of it until just now. Rolling your eyes, you send a glare to Jeno. “What ever happened to ‘hey Y/n, your hair is kinda messy, let me fix that for you,’?” “Hey Y/n, your hair is kinda messy, let me fix that for you,” Jaemin says as he reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You stare up at him as he does this, admiring the gentle touch of his hand as it grazes over your forehead just the slightest bit and follows the way down all the way to the bottom of your ear. His gaze falls to yours as his hand finds purchase on your shoulder. The moment doesn’t last long, though, before you’re moving away and looking to your other friends who are watching the scene unfold. “Um, oh yeah, I’m good with whatever,” you direct to Jeno while you stand up. “I’m going to go get changed real quick, where did you guys put my bag?” “It’s in Jaemin’s room. It’s the second door to the right once you go upstairs,” Renjun answers. You shoot him a quick ‘thanks’ before walking toward the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the five of you had finished the gross pizza- although none of you mentioned that to Jaemin- and had settled in for a movie, you were starting to feel much more tired than you did before and were ready to go to sleep. You look to where Jaemin had been sitting next to you on the couch and he seemed to be extremely invested in the movie. You felt bad for interrupting him. “Hey, Jaemsie?” He flinches slightly at the broken silence. “Yeah, what’s up?” “Oh, I’m just ready for bed, where were we sleeping tonight?” “Oh yeah, you and Renjun are going to sleep in my room and me, Jeno, and Jisung are going to sleep in my parents’ room.” You frown at this. “Why don’t you just sleep in your room? I feel bad for stealing it.” He chuckles briefly at your pout. “I don’t mind. We figured since you and Renjun have had sleepovers and stuff before it wouldn’t be a problem for you guys to share a bed, and my parents’ room is big enough for three people so it’ll be fine. Plus it would be kinda weird for them to sleep in my parents’ bed without me.” “Less weird than me and Renjun sleeping in your bed?” You question him, only half understanding his logic. “Look Y/n, if you’re trying to get me into bed with you, you can just ask.” He adds a shit-eating grin at the end. “What if I was? Was it working?” He choked on his saliva at this, obviously not expecting you to joke back, but he recovered quickly. “Ah,’ he sighed out, “I don’t think our friends would enjoy us hooking up while they’re down the hall in my parents’ room. Sound really carries in this house, if you didn’t know.” “Ah, you raise a valid point. What a shame, maybe next time,” you pat his thigh lightly as you get up, bidding the others a ‘goodnight’ as you make your way upstairs for the second time that night, this time not missing the way the TV volume lowers ever so slightly and the way your friends exchange whispers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Out of State

 Chapter 8- Bedhead  

Chapter 7 ~ Masterlist ~ Chapter 9 

Taglist: @elysianana @stopitvpls @ridinhyuck @taeyongsupremecy @nitsunie @hecapiecna 

A/N: It’ s the fact that this was 1.5k words for me. Also, not @ this sitting in my drafts since yesterday bc I thought I clicked post😭✋🤧 Also also sorry @ tallest if you get a notif for this twice, the format wigged out and I had to reformat this and add all the tags back😔✋

#out of state series #nct dream sm au #nct dream social media au #nct dream college au #nct dream series #nct dream x reader #renjun x reader #jaemin x reader #haechan x reader #nct sm au #nct social media au #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct 2020 #lovely-haechan

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unaccomplishedwriter · 4 years ago

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THE HERO YOU NEED

. Chapter Two .

- Chapter One here -

if there were ever anyone close to being the personification of perfection, it would be Cedric Diggory.

The older boy was a hit with the first-years, and everyone else actually. He was kind and informative, making sure the younger ones were made to feel welcome and comforted. You watched with interest as he animatedly explained how the Hogwarts staircases worked to the crowd of students behind him, fiddling with your wand as always. Following behind slowly, your mind began to wander as you blocked out the noises surrounding you.

Hufflepuff was a choice you’d made after careful deliberation; their house values most matched what you wanted yourself to achieve as a wizard. You were no stranger to the history of Beauvais wands; their propensity for dark magic contributed to much of the doubt surrounding Seraphina Picquery in her earlier days. But she made her place, as will you yours. Your dream was to become a living counter to dark magic; someone who could strengthen all aspects of magic through extensive study of its usages, dark magic included. Your wand was powerful, and held exactly the kind of power you needed if you were to be able to research your goals as extensively as possible. Magical application was one thing, but learning how magic affected the body as thoroughly as possible would prove to be an invaluable asset to the fundamental understanding of magical power to begin with. Hufflepuffs were similar to Pukwudgies in that sense; their members were often curious and good-natured, usually going on to have careers that were based in care.

After the incident as a child, you wanted nothing more but for others to never have to go through such a thing again, even if you had to study the usage of the very dark magic you were so afraid of.

A sudden emptiness beneath you snapped you out of your thoughts, your body suddenly being jerked back and into open arms.

“Are you okay?”

Frantically panted the lips near your ear. Your heart was pounding, and all thoughts in your head flew out the window. What on earth happened? Why...

“You nearly got yourself killed! Were you listening at all?” that same voice scolded. You finally snapped out of your thoughts, turning your head only to meet with someone’s chest. Your nose met with a soft, warm and good heavens, he smells like caramel -- neck before trailing upwards, coming face to face with one very flustered Cedric Diggory. Desperately piecing your scattered brain together, you realized that you two were standing just a foot back from where a staircase had previously been; now just an empty abyss that you’d nearly walked right into.

“I’m so sorry!” you stuttered.

“My mind was elsewhere.”

“And was elsewhere worth nearly falling to your doom?” he raised a brow. You almost apologized again before you noticed the suppressed quirk of his lip - he was making fun of you. You rolled your eyes and pulled away, only just registering how close you two still were. He let his arms fall from around your shoulders, his hand lingering in your hair for just a moment before brushing it off your shoulder as it fell.

“Maybe,” you teased, resuming your trailing of the first years, now following behind another well-meaning senior.

“Was I that boring?” Cedric grinned, twirling to face you as he walked backwards. The irony of the boy who just chided you for not watching your step walking backwards just to speak to you was not lost on you, and a mirthful smile painted your lips. His cinnamon-brown locks were swept out of his face, cheeks seemingly forever flushed a lovely red hue. You’d known him for all of two minutes and could already tell he possessed a magnetic charm. He reminded you of one of your friends back at Ilvermorny, Ben, and the smile on your face grew wider.

“Not really, but if you were half as klutzy as you are charming, I’d think I was in the wrong country,” you replied thoughtlessly. You could tell from the confused look on Cedric’s face that the sentiment was lost on him, so you rushed to fill in the blanks.

“I mean -- you remind me of my friend is all. For all the charm that oozes out of Ben, I swear he lacks the same amount of grace,” you sniggered, delighting at the thought of your awkward (yet somehow still immensely popular) friend.

“You guys are around the same age, too.” you added.

Cedric slowed to a stop in front of you, forcing you to stop as well. He leaned in close, close enough for you to smell the sweet scent of the chocolate frogs on his breath that he’d no doubt eaten on the train -- before bringing a hand up to rest on your head.

“All I’m getting from that comparison is that you think I’m charming,” he said. Face burning, you brush his hand aside as he lets out a loud laugh, stepping back. You feel him sling his arm around your shoulders as you guys start walking again, a rather familiar act for such a stranger. You found yourself rather comforted by his presence, a welcome reminder of the warmth of your friends back home you’d been missing.

“Rather familiar already, Cedric?” you ask pointedly. Cedric raises both brows at you this time, tightening his grip.

“I’d say we’re best friends already, wouldn’t you? You even called me Cedric!” he joked.

“That’s because I’m an American,” you rolled your eyes. “It’ll take some getting used to the whole last-name-basis you lot like to use. It seems too...unfamiliar.”

A blast of cool air hit your face as your group passed the Great Hall once again, seeming to come to the end of its tour.

“Well, I’d be glad to be a familiar face for you,” Cedric offered. “First name basis and all...(Y/F/N)?”

You let out a giggle at the questioning tilt of his head, before nodding enthusiastically.

“Thank you,” you said gratefully. “You don’t need to pity me though. If that’s what you’re doing.”

“Not at all,” he responded. “I think we’re on our way to becoming best friends already, actually.”

The cheeky grin on his face was enough to break down the last of your walls, a smile blowing across your face as well. As you two chattered away, a certain blonde haired boy was watching you from across the hall. Still ~salty~ about your abrupt change in attitude during the two of you’s conversation earlier, you’d been on Draco Malfoy’s mind ever since. And when you were sorted into Hufflepuff house, he’d decided that you certainly would fit in amongst those muggle-loving, tree hugging weirdos anyways. But despite that, he still felt a weird thump in his chest when the sorting hat was finally placed on you; as if it would agree with him that you needed to be amongst Slytherins, where you truly belonged. And seeing you laughing alongside Cedric Diggory reminded him of a few hours earlier, when you were laughing with him — or maybe at him, but whatever — and he also decided he didn’t like that. Draco almost found himself marching over to confront you before he remembered that Cedric Diggory was a full three years his senior, and a skilled enough wizard that by the time his father heard the news he’d have probably already spent a few days in the Hogwarts infirmary, hexed to oblivion. While cursing his age and how it’s the sole thing keeping him from giving you a piece of his mind, Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when you suddenly turned and made eye contact with him. Giving him a large wave, the smile on your face suddenly convinced Draco that he’d do anything to see it again, and any earlier rudeness on your part was thrown out the window. Weren’t you angry still? Wasn’t he angry still? Lost in thought, Draco didn’t notice his friend coming up behind him until he felt Blaise’s hand drop heavily on his shoulder. He flinched, immediately turning his back on the Hufflepuffs across the hall. “What are you staring at, man?” Blaise inquired. “Nothing at all,” he said defensively, moving his body even more in order to block his friend’s view. The other boy looked at him in suspicion before shrugging, wrapping an arm around his shoulders before steering him towards the doors. “Flint’s talking about organizing the tryouts for this year,” said Blaise. “We should go check it out.” Nodding his head along to whatever else Blaise was mumbling in his ears, Draco felt the annoying compulsion to turn around once more. Stifling the persistent feeling, he swaggered out of the Great Hall. But, he couldn’t help but wonder if your eyes were still on him or on Diggory.

A/N: this chapter is shorter because as I said in a previous post it’s been sitting in my drafts and I just wanted to get it put out. This is also really more of a bridge chapter. My MacBook crashed so I wasn’t able to write more and I got annoyed with my phone bc I feel like it inhibits my creative juices :( I’ll try and get ch 3 out soon! Lmk if I should create a tag list :)

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #harry potter #cedric diggory #x reader #HP #the wizarding world of harry potter #harry potter and the goblet of fire #Draco #Malfoy #Slytherin #hufflepuff

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lesbeet · 4 years ago

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not to be a nerd but i accidentally just wrote a whole impromptu essay about editing ndjsdksksk im throwing it under a cut bc it's fucking inane and really long but honestly... i just want other people to become as passionate about editing as i am lmaooooo

i also recommend 2 books in the post so if anything at least check those out!

quality books about editing... *chef's kiss* a lot of the basic ones (including blog posts online n such) are geared towards beginners and end up repeating the same info/advice, much of it either oversimplified or misrepresented tbh. but i read one yesterday and i'm reading another one right now that really convey this passion for editing + consideration for it as its own sort of art and i just!!

it's such a weird thing to be passionate about lmao but i AM and i've spent a lot of time the past year or so consciously honing my craft (ik i mention this like 4 times a week i'm just really proud of how much i've learned and improved) and kind of like. solidifying my instincts into conscious choices i guess?

and these GOOD editing books have both a) taught me new information and/or presented familiar information through a new perspective that helped me understand something differently or in more depth, and b) validated or even just put into words certain preferences or techniques that i've developed on my own, that i don't normally see on those more basic lists i mentioned

btw the book i finished yesterday is self-editing for fiction writers: how to edit yourself into print by renni brown and dave king, and the one i'm reading currently is the artful edit: on the practice of editing yourself by susan bell.

the former was pretty sharp and straightforward. the authors demonstrated some of their points directly in the text, which was usually funny enough that i would show certain quotes to my sister without context

("Just think about how much power a single obscenity can have if it’s the only one in the whole fucking book." <- (it was)

"Frequent italics have come to signal weak writing. So you should never resort to them unless they are the only practical choice, as with the kind of self-conscious internal dialogue shown above or an occasional emphasis."

or, my favorite: "There are a few stylistic devices that are so “tacky” they should be used very sparingly, if at all. First on the list is emphasis quotes, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. The only time you need to use them is to show you are referring to the word itself, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. Read it again; it all makes sense.")

and like i said, i also learned some new ideas or techniques (or they articulated vague ideas i already had but struggled to put into practice), AND they mentioned some suggestions that ive literally never seen anyone else bring up (not to say no one has! just that ive never seen it, and ive seen a lot in terms of writing tips, advice, best practices, etc) that ive already sort of established in my own writing

for example they went into pretty fine detail about dialogue mechanics, more than i usually see, and in talking about the pacing and proportion of "beats" and dialogue in a given scene, they explicitly suggested that, if a character speaks more than a sentence or two and you plan on giving them some sort of dialogue tag or an action to perform as a beat, the tag or action should be placed at one of the earliest (if not the first) natural pauses in the dialogue, so as not to distance the character too far from the dialogue -- bc otherwise the reader ends up getting all of the dialogue information first, and then has to go back and retroactively insert the character, or what they're doing, or the way they look/sound while they're giving their little speech

and like this was something ive figured out on my own, mostly bc it jarred me out of something i was reading enough times (probably in fic tbh) that i started noticing it, and realized that it's something i do naturally, kind of to anchor the character to the dialogue mechanic to make sure it makes sense with the actual dialogue

so like. ok here's an example i just randomly pulled from the song of achilles (it was available on scribd so i just looked for a spot that worked to illustrate my point djsmsks)

the actual quote is written effectively, but here's a less effective version first:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him. He’s done nothing to me," Achilles answered coolly.

see and even with such a short snippet it's so much smoother and more vivid just by moving the dialogue tag, not adding or cutting a word:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him.” Achilles answered coolly. “He’s done nothing to me.”

the rhythm of it is better, and the beat that the dialogue tag creates functions as a natural dramatic pause before achilles delivers an incredibly poignant line, both within the immediate context of the scene and because we as the readers can recognize it as foreshadowing. plus, it flows smoothly because that beat was inserted where the dialogue already contained a natural pause, just bc that's how people speak. if you read both versions aloud, they both make sense, but the second version (the original used in the novel) accounts for the rhythm of dialogue, the way people tend to process information as they read, AND the greater context of the story, and as a result packs significantly more purpose, information, and effect into the same exact set of words

and THAT, folks, is the kind of editing minutia i can literally sit and hyperfocus on for hours without noticing. anyway it's a good book lmao

the one i'm reading now is a lot more about the cognitive process/es of editing, so there's less concrete and specific advice (so far, anyway) and more discussion about different mental approaches to editing, as well as tips and tools for making a firm distinction between your writer brain and your editor brain, which is something i struggle with

but there have been so many good quotes that ive highlighted! a lot of just like. reminders and things to think about, and also just lovely articulations of things id thought of or come to understand in much more vague ways.

scribd won't let me copy/paste this one bc it's a document copy and not an actual ebook, but this passage is talking about how the simple act of showing a piece of writing to someone else for the very first time can spark a sudden shift in perspective on the work, bc you'll (or at least i) frantically try to re-read it through their eyes and end up noticing a bunch of new errors -

or she talked about the perils of constant re-reading in the middle of writing a draft, which is something i struggle with a LOT, both bc i'm a perfectionist and bc i prefer editing to writing so i sit and edit when i'm procrastinating doing the actual hard work of writing lmao

it's just this side of fake deep tbh but i so rarely see editing discussed like this--as a mixture of art and science, a collaboration between instinct and technique, that really requires "both sides of the brain" to be done well.

and because of the way my own brain works, activities that require such a balanced concentration of creativity and logic really appeal to me. even though ive seen a lot of people (even professional writers) who frame it as the creative art of writing vs the logical discipline of editing. but i think that's such a misleading way of thinking about it, because writing and editing both require creativity and logic -- just different kinds! (not to mention that the line between writing and editing, while mostly clear, can get a little blurry from up close)

but like...all stories have an inner logic to them, even if the writer hasn't explicitly or consciously planned it, and even if the logic is faulty in places in the first couple of drafts. when you're sitting and daydreaming about your story, especially if you're trying to figure out how to bridge the gap between two points or scenes (or, how to write a sequence of events that presents as a logical, inevitable progression of cause and effect), the voice in your head that evaluates an idea and decides to 1) go with it, 2) scrap it, 3) tweak it until it works, or 4) hold onto it in case you want it later? that's your logic! if an idea feels wrong, or like it just doesn't work, it's probably because some part of you is detecting a conflict between some part of the idea and the overall logic of your story. every decision you make as you write is formed by and checked against your own experiential logic, and also by the internal logic of your story, which is far less developed (or at least, one would hope), and therefore more prone to the occasional laspe

but while ive seen a number of articles that discuss the logic of writing, i don't see people gushing as much about the art of editing and it's such a shame

the inner editor is so often characterized as the responsible parent to the writer's carefree child, or a relentless critic of the writer's unselfconscious, unpolished drivel

and it's like... maybe you just hate thinking critically about your work! maybe you view it that way because you're imposing external standards too fiercely onto your writing, and it's sucked the joy out of shaping and sculpting your words until they sing. maybe you prefer to conceive of your writing as divine communication, the process of which must remain unencumbered by lessons learned through experience or the vulnerability of self-reflection, until the buzzkill inner editor shows up with all those "rules" and "conventions" that only matter if you're trying to get published

and like obviously the market doesn't dictate which conventions are worth following, but the majority of widely-agreed-upon writing standards, especially those aimed at beginners, (and most especially those regarding style, as opposed to story structure) have to do with the effectiveness and efficiency of prose, and, in addition to often serving as a shorthand for distinguishing an amateur from a pro, overall help to increase poignancy and clarity, which is crucial no matter the genre or type of writing. and even if you personally believe otherwise, it's better to understand the conventions so you can break them with real purpose.

so editing shouldn't be about trying to shove your pristine artistic masterpiece into a conventional mold, it should be about using the creative instincts of your ear and your logic and experience-based understanding of writing as a craft to hone your words until you've told your story as effectively as possible

thank u for coming to my ted talk ✌️

#long post //#editing #wref #sefa rambles

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