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amandacanwrite · 1 year ago

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So, I'm Rewriting Something I Just Published

This post has two acts. First, a confession of sorts. Then, an update, a little peer behind the veil, please pay attention to the woman behind the curtain.

So, here’s the confession.

I was going to just secretly, quietly, unnoticed-ly re-release a recent short story I published in the form of a tiny book on amazon. I was just going to finish rewriting it and update the original file I uploaded and pretend that nothing ever changed. Do the ole-one-two-switcheroo.

But then I remembered that I’ve just been wanting to be overall more transparent and honest in my newsletters. And that I actually want to tell you guys about the process of writing it and what I’m learning in the process.

So here I am, telling you about how impulsive and goofy I am. I hope you enjoy it.

Here’s the thing. My idea in publishing it on a whim was to claim my amazon author profile so that I could start promoting it, encouraging people to follow it, so that when my debut novel comes out next year people actually get notified about it. Seems like a clever idea, right? Or at least it did to me. Honestly, marketing is at best a hobby I do poorly at this point, but I’m trying to figure it out.

I figured I would just put something out that I was decently confident about and focus on just linking to the profile itself and forgetting about the specific work.

The problem being I actually really like the story and have wanted to expand it for months. After receiving a proof copy of the physical book and reading it, I found myself stuck on the potential it had and I shifted my focus to writing more of the story.

In classic “me” fashion, what started as the intention to add maybe two thousand words to flesh it out a bit more has now evolved into a narrative that will probably require another ten or eleven thousand words. It’s becoming a novella. Because I have approximately zero chill.

(By the way, this is not new, The Hallowed Wilds was only supposed to be forty-thousand words and now with another twenty-thousand to go it’s already clocking in at a whopping sixty-thousand words. So yes, I routinely have to double the size of my projects because they take off without me.)

And also due to my inability to harness any chill, I also just want to scream at you guys about the whole thing. I wanna talk about the drafting, the editing, the visuals, the inspirations. I want to just gab about all of it.

So that’s the backstory, let me get into the stuff that I actually want to tell you about now, a little peer behind the curtain for my simultaneous WIP mixed with an already published novlette called A Waltz with the Bone King.

This idea came to be years ago, collaboratively, with my best friend Eden, who I have mentioned before in this newsletter. We are big fans of text-based role playing, and before you get awkward, it’s not the sexy thing. It’s the nerdy thing.

This was a story we came up with together about a woman obsessed with the macabre literally being courted by death. It was one I always loved and, with her blessing, I’ve been playing with writing it as a narrative for a while now—several times over the last year, honestly. The idea first came to us after seeing this lovely image by Illustrator Abigail Larson.

The story follows a sickly, frail woman named Lorelai Hunt. She’s the sole daughter of a wealthy widower that lives in the country, away from society. He purchased his estate there after his wife, Lorelai’s mother, fell ill and they have lived there ever since.

Oddly enough, this looks almost exactly how I envision her.

Lorelai’s mother, Hanne, died when Lorelai was only six or seven and it shook her deeply.

Not long after her mother’s death, Lorelai started to be visited by spirits. She was doted upon by ghostly nannies while her father processed his grief, in many ways she was reared by these paranormal experiences until she started to get too old to peer past the veil quite so easily.

She found comfort in reading about theories on what happens after death, reading dark poetry, and as she aged, even reading about what happens to the body after a soul had left it.

As a result, many people thought she was odd and, at the time of the story, tend to avoid her and ridicule her behind their gloved hands. Much to her father’s dismay, she has had no gentleman callers or prospective suitors, but Lorelai herself isn’t bothered. She would rather die a spinster than consign herself to a life with a husband who doesn’t understand her, especially with the example her parents set as a perfect love match.

But matters get complicated when Westley Harper, a young man from the city, takes a curious interest in her despite his clear distaste for the things she is interested in. Honestly, one of my favorite parts to write was Lorelai and Westley’s first conversation and I hope you enjoy it as well:

“Do you like history, Mr. Harper?” I asked. “Please, Westley is fine,” he said. “And of course, a young man must be well versed on such subjects.” “I’ve been reading about the French Revolution and Marie Antoinette,” I said. “It really is a tragedy what happened to them, don’t you think? Coming to power when they were no more than children—only to fall in love and have their romance cut short by their untimely deaths.” “I suppose it would take a tender heart such as yours to extend such compassion to monarchs who were so unliked,” he said. “I heard that Marie Antoinette collapsed in the courtroom when the bells tolled signaling King Louis’s death—” I said before adding as an aside. “Did you know that some doctors theorize that the head continues perceiving up to several minutes after being removed from the body?” Westley’s face tightened, only slightly with how well he managed his own reactions, but I saw it nonetheless. “Don’t you think that’s fascinating?” I pressed on. “What do you suppose he thought of in those final moments?” “I imagine he thought only of pain,” he responded. “Why ever would he think on pain when he was no longer connected to any of the anatomy that could cause the sensation of it?” I challenged. “Maybe he marveled at the fact that he was still thinking at all—” “Is that what you would do? Think ‘Ah, I’m still sentient. Fascinating,’ and then die?” Westley sighed and smoothed a hand through his perfect hair again, his irritation apparent and growing. “I imagine that I would be thinking of vengeance against those who had wronged me.” Finally, an honest answer! “I see—” I said, tapping my lace fan to my lacquered lips. “So, you’d continue to the next phase of existence as a vengeful spirit.”

I hope this gives you an idea of why Lorelai is so fun to write. She’s strange and a little hard headed. I love the dichotomy of her stubborn qualities offset by her openness to the unexplained; her intelligence paired with her oddness and superstitions.

By no surprise, shortly after this meeting Lorelai meets The Bone King during one of her visits to the graveyard and that’s where our story really starts to unfold.

“Who are you?” I asked him. “Well, you already know exactly who I am, don’t you?” he asked me as he carefully picked up the shattered teacup, the crimson liquid staining his satin gloves like blood. “Or you at least have an inkling.” His tone wasn’t the same condescending indulgence that Westley had used with me when I’d attended that social with Papa. It was conversational, light, and a little playful. If he’d had any flesh on the bones of his face, I could almost see the little dimpled smile he’d have when he said it. “So…you’re…the king of death?” I finally made myself say. “I am,” he said. “I’ve had many names over the millennia—Hades, The Grim Reaper, The Angel of Death, Thanatos, Hel… the list continues, and the faces and genders change based on region.” “What do you call yourself?” I asked. “I do not call myself anything,” he stated as he finished picking up the last of the teacup and vanishing it before my eyes, along with the red stains on his gloves. “I simply am.” “That’s a very enigmatic thing to say,” I said, a little put out. “What should I call you?” “Call me whatever you like, Little Flower,” he said.

And this is basically where I’m left off in the drafting process.

The story right now sits at about 13,000 words and I anticipate it finishing up around 20,000 words. I’m writing it as quickly as my brain will let me after finishing my daily freelancing writing, and I’m hoping to have it finished in the next couple of weeks. However, if you’d like to read the current iteration, it’s available on Kindle Unlimited or for just a dollar for the e-book version.

It isn’t bad in its current form, but it definitely will benefit from being fleshed out, I think you’ll see that.

In the meanwhile, I’m going to try to keep you guys in the loop on the whole process and the lead up to an Actual Proper Launch TM.

In the meanwhile, do you guys like updates like this? Or is this too much of an info dump? Comment below and let me know!

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writing #authors #my writing #writeblr #romantasy #book quotes #historical fantasy #A Waltz with the Bone King #Bone King

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freuleinanna · 3 years ago

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It's always trauma o'clock somewhere! Especially for these kids who had to come home and lie about why they returned from the camp a day later. They hardly had a chance to unpack the recent trauma, but I think this is how the HQ massacre affected their lives afterwards.

Jacob, as many others, chose a half-truth and told his parents that some jerk broke the car to stay with his girlfriend. He omitted the part where that jerk was him. Couldn't bear that guilt.

He was a decent swimmer and wanted to maybe take it professionally, but the next time he found himself at the pool, he completely froze at the signal. He never dived in that day. He stared at the blue-tiled water, and he saw the chains and the overblown body.

He found Emma on Instagram and, for a while, he was checking it obsessively, hoping she'd talk about what happened or mention it in some way, any way. He wanted to stop being so alone in knowing the truth and living with it. Emma never did that.

Emma, actually, fell silent for almost 2 months after her return. She'd speak the bare minimum, but never an actual conversation, never a joke. The happy, bubbly girl simply wasn't there. Her parents even took her to a teen therapist with little to no result.

Emma had stopped streaming for a while, although she still kept her Insta. One time she almost posted a selfie from that day, before the nightfall. Almost.

Some time later, she set up a really non-Emma-esque live stream. She was sitting in silence, looking at the sunset, the comment section was overflowing, and sometimes Emma would pick a question to answer from there. Many thought she was doing some sort of spiritual cleanse. She only spoke without a prompt for the first time when she saw Abi joining the stream.

For Abi, it was nightmares. That simple, that efficient. Dark forests, mist, dangerous beasts lurking around. What else to screw with the sleep of a sweet, tender person?

Movies on the background didn't help. Music didn't help. Drawing made everything worse, because in every shape, form, and shadow, beasts were lurking. Whenever she'd pick up a pencil to sketch, she left monsters on the paper. Wherever she looked, she saw monsters. Monsters always looked just a little bit like Nick.

It went on until the night she looked Emma up on Insta and, by pure coincidence, got to her live stream.

Nick blocked most of it out. There wasn't much to remember, but some memories still bled through.

He became the snack guy, the guy who always had something to chew on. It was a small quirk nobody was really paying attention to, but its trail led back to the only thing he did remember: hunger.

Whenever he emailed, Abi never replied.

Ryan, on the contrary, was replying to and receiving a LOT of emails. He was the one to send all the evidence to the Bizarre Yet Bonafide studio, and he also kept in touch with a few other Hacketteers, including Kaitlyn and Dylan.

Another thing he did is meticulously go through all his favorite media (TV & films mostly) and unbooked/deleted everything that dealt with guns being shot or vivid descriptions of wild animals (or their victims). This took him several hard days, but he finally felt safer when he did it.

He only watched something new if Dylan watched it first and gave him an okay.

Dylan, as opposed to Ryan, consumed horror content like his life depended on it. At some point, he even had a special notepad with details of how to defeat or protect yourself from all supernatural dangers and their mother. He kept this notepad on him at all times and often re-read it.

Getting used to not having a hand was slightly easier than he expected. What wasn't easy? That one time when his dad asked him to bring him sth to work. His father, a crane conductor on a construction site, did not expect his grown son to have a full-blown panic attack over a pb&j.

On the other hand (his joke, not mine), he got really close with Ryan and Kat, and they were planning a getaway together.

Kaitlyn was the one to propose the getaway. Despite the general total mindfuck, she managed to keep a cool head on the night of, and, surprisingly, it didn't cost her a hand and a leg (her joke, not mine!)

Thus, she became a healer. Reaching out, making sure. Helping. She didn't make it her sacred goal to help all others, but she tried, and that's what counts.

She kept tabs on Jacob especially. She knew he'd never ask for help. He didn't have to ask. That's what best friends are for.

Max never met any of those people, except Emma. That one time he bit his lip and nearly puked because he thought he remembered the taste of blood.

He topped his steak-cooking up to inventing the well-well-well-done steak without any possibility of there being blood.

Mostly, he just wasn't sure if he knew his own nature anymore. As the whole night was blocked in his mind, he could only trust Laura. And he did. The fact that she looked at him even more lovingly than before told him that if she trusts him, if she loves him, than it's okay.

Laura did trust him and loved him. But she also ran a gazillion of drills per week and kept at least two take-and-run bags in the house, and one in a special place. Clothes, flashlights, crackers, compass, you name it. She was an amateur that last time. Now she was ready for anything.

She took up running as well. She continued with vet studies. Even years after, the first thought that sprung to her mind if someone was butten by an animal was: CUT THE FUCKING LIMB.

Max kept her grounded with his laugh and his honest, sincere warmth. She could have gone really cold inside if it wasn't for him.

#i.... i want to send them to therapy #the quarry #the quarry spoilers #the quarry thoughts #the quarry game #supermassive games #laura kearney #max brinly #jacob custos #emma mountebank #abigail blyg #dylan lenivy #nick furcillo #ryan erzahler #kaitlyn ka

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atlafan · 4 years ago

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Part One - “Call me Jane.”

a/n: here’s part one of nanny!H, I’m very excited about this series. I’m not sure how many parts it’s going to be, so please don’t ask lmao. Once I know how many parts it’ll be, I’ll make a master post for it. I’m just too excited not at least share the first part because Harry is just too cute in this! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful, and keep me motivated, especially when it comes to writing series. (not proofread) You can support me here if you’re able!

Warnings: none...for now

Words: 4.1K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Jane Watson)

Master Post

Harry found himself in a real bind. He was twenty-six years old, had an early childhood education degree, and the daycare he worked at was going under. He had just been promoted a month prior too, how could things go wrong so quickly? Times like this he really hated that he stayed in the states. Childcare services weren’t nearly as fucked up back home. His dream was to save up enough money to open up his own pre-school at some point, but it was really tough.

There was this weird stigma that if adult men wanted to work with babies and toddlers then that made them a pedophile or something of the sort. That wasn’t the case with Harry. His minor in school was psychology because cognitive development intrigued him. He also loved babies and little ones. He loved watching them learn and discover.

Only now, he was without a job in an already struggling field. He and the other employees weren’t exactly given a big notice before they were told the business was going under. Harry mostly felt bad for the parents of the kids that had to find new child care centers. He knew he’d have to compete with his co-workers for any available jobs, and he knew they were bound to find places before him because they were women. It was their fault, and he knew it. He was experiencing a prejudice that they must face all the time.

He looked into Care.com, but none of the jobs on there seemed like long-term gigs, and he didn’t want to just be a glorified baby sitter. He figured if he could find a well paying nannying job, he could do that for a bit until finding a job at a new facility, or even set up his dream pre-school. During his search on Indeed, he saw a position for a live-in nanny – jackpot! Live-in meant long-term, and long-term meant lots of money. It also meant he could get rid of his apartment and not have to pay rent for a while. He clicked on the ad that was posted only a couple of weeks ago.

Live-in Nanny Needed for Help with Eight-Month-Old

Minimum requirements:

· Bachelor’s in either early childhood education or elementary education

· At least two years’ experience working babies/children

Three professional references required

Applicant is subject to thorough background check for the safety of the child and mother.

Other tasks as needed include:

· Cooking

· Light cleaning

· Grocery shopping/running other errands

If applicant is selected, they will be paid a flat rate of $1600 bi-weekly, will live in “in-law” section of the house, and a car will be provided for them. A resume, cover letter, and three professional references may be sent directly to [email protected]

After reading everything over, this seemed like Harry’s best bet. Some of it seemed a little too good to be true, but this was a risk he needed to take right now. He just hoped the position hadn’t already been filled. That night he spent some time updating his LinkedIn, making sure all of his privacy settings were up to date on all of his social media, and then wrote out a resume and cover letter. The last part was his least favorite because he knew a proper resume and cover letter had to be curated to the specific job, and it made things all the more tedious. By the time he was done, it was late. He didn’t want to seem unprofessional, so he waited to send the email until the next morning.

Subject: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning,

My name is Harry and I’m interested in the nannying advert you’ve posted on Indeed. For the last four years I’ve been working at P.B. & J.’s Child Care Center, and was recently promoted to team lead. Unfortunately, the business itself couldn’t remain afloat, and I was laid off.

Attached are my resume and cover letter. I’d be happy to provide the three references if I end up being considered for the position.

Thank you for your time and consideration,

Harry

Treat People With Kindness

He closes his laptop with a satisfied sigh after proofreading his email ten different times before he hit send. He takes a sip from his coffee, and sits back on his sofa. Now all he had to do was wait.

There was radio silence for two days. Harry was starting to think he would need to keep job hunting. He had bills to pay, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask his parents for help. They already looked down on his profession as it was. If he had his own car he’d become an uber driver or something, but he didn’t so he couldn’t. Then, by some stroke of luck, at 4:55PM on a Thursday, he gets an email from the address he had been hoping to see pop up.

Subject: Re: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good evening Harry,

My name is Jane Watson, thank you so much for your application. My apologies it has taken me a couple of days to get back to you. I am usually more responsive, but things have been a little crazy at work as of late. Upon further review of your resume and over letter, I would like to offer you an interview this Saturday at noon, if you are available. I can be flexible if that day and time do not work for you.

If you are able to come, and are still interested in the position, I ask that you please bring your references with you. I will want to call them right away. I am sure you can understand me wanting to thoroughly look into you before letting you into my daughter’s life.

I look forward to hearing back from you soon.

All my best,

Jane

Harry responded to her right away, he didn’t care how eager he seemed. He told her Saturday at noon worked great, and that he would definitely have his references, and anything else he needed to provide. She emailed him back an hour or so later with her cell phone number and address. For the first time in a while, Harry felt like he could breathe again. He knew it wasn’t a done deal that he’d be getting the job, but he was being given a chance, and for that he was thankful.

He wanted to make a good first impression on Saturday, so he made sure to wash his hair in the shower, and use his good mousse so his hair would look more orderly. He shaved to give himself that clean and sleek look, this was not a day to appear scruffy. He knew he didn’t need to be overly dressed up, but he also knew that you’re supposed to dress for the job you want and not the job you have. He irons a pair of tan slacks and pairs it with a blue button up. Not to brag, but his bum looked great in these slacks, and it was giving him all the confidence in the world. He puts on a floral tie, just to show a bit of his personality, makes sure his nail polish isn’t chipped, and makes sure all of his rings are looking shiny. He takes an uber out to Jane’s house. It was in a gated community, which he was expecting since he looked up the house beforehand. He wondered what she or her husband did for work to live in a place like this. Or perhaps she inherited the home? Either way, he was excited.

He thanks the driver, and knocks on the door as he was instructed to do. A woman with silver hair that was up in a nice bun opens the door.

“Hello, you must be Mr. Styles.” She smiles.

“Yes, hello.” He smiles back.

“I’m MaryAnne, please come in.” She steps aside to let Harry in.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Watson is just pumping, but you can wait for her here in her office.” She leads Harry down a corridor where he meets a grand double door. MaryAnne opens them and shows him inside. “Make yourself comfortable, dear. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea?”

“I’m all set, but thank you very much.”

The woman nods and leaves him in the room alone. He stays standing as he didn’t want to assume where he should be sitting. There was a gorgeous desk with two chairs on the other side, but there was also a small round table with four chairs around it in the corner. She clearly held a lot of meetings here, or so it would seem. To pass the time he looks over her bookshelves, scanning over what she might be into. She seemed to be into fiction, but he had never heard of any of the books on some of the shelves, or the author. She had several by the same person. Before he could look further, he heard the clacking of heels on the hardwood floors approaching him.

Everything stopped when she walked in. Jane had her hair up in a flowing ponytail, a white blouse covered her top half, he notices that the first few buttons were left undone, probably to help with her pumping, and she had a black pencil skirt on that just came to her knees. She was short, and a little voluptuous, not that Harry was checking her out.

“Hello, Mr. Styles, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He goes to stick his hand out for her to shake, but she walks around him and sits down at her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He swallows and sits down.

“Y-you can just call me Harry if you like, Mrs. Watson.”

“I’m a Miss not a missus.” She says as she takes out a folder with a few sheets in it and a pen. “It says here you graduated Summa Cum Laude from Lesley University. That’s an incredible place to get a degree in education.”

“Thank you, I got a pretty decent scholarship, it was my reach school. I minored in psychology as well. I did my practicum hours at a daycare center that specialized in caring for children with disabilities. So, I’ve worked with all sorts of children. I prefer working with infants and toddlers, though.”

“And why is that?” She looks at him, clicking her pen, ready to take notes.

“Well, I just have more fun with them, to be honest. I like watching them discover new things. My favorite thing to do while working in the baby room at my last job was working with the babies on their tummy times. It was always rewarding to watch them get stronger. I feel like I just bond with them better.”

“I need to ask you some personal questions since this is a live-in position.”

“Of course.” Harry nods.

“Are you in any sort of relationship with anyone?”

“No, I’m single.”

“Have you ever been arrested, or do you have any sort of criminal history?”

“No.”

“I’m not one to judge, I think everyone deserves a second chance, I just have to ask these sort of things.” She says.

“I don’t have a criminal record, Miss Watson.”

“History of drug use?”

“I smoked a bit of weed when I was younger, but I don’t anymore. An edible once in a while, maybe, but never when I’m on the clock.”

“Just marijuana?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, but nothing other than that. Stupid kid stuff.”

“Again, not judging. I’d prefer you don’t have any drugs in the house, unless they’re for medical use. I know edibles can be prescribed by doctors for anxiety and whatnot.” Harry nods at that. “What about alcohol? You’re twenty-six, you must enjoy a drink after a long day.”

“A glass of red once in a while, sure.” He nods. “But I’m not really a heavy drinker, I never have been. I’d say if anything I’m a social drinker, but you watch me carefully at a party you’ll notice that I nurse the same drink.” He smirks.

“I’m the same way. A little bit of a buzz is fun, but anything more can be a bit scary. I actually cannot remember the last time I had a real drink.” She looks off in thought.

“Well, can’t you drink now that the baby’s here?”

“And have to succumb to a pump and dump?” She scoffs. “No way, that would be a total waste. It’s torture enough to sit there while a machine sucks the milk out of my-“ She stops herself. “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Anyways, your resume was impressive, and you were quite articulate in your cover letter. You’re the only candidate I’ve invited for an interview.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I really wanted someone with experience, not someone fresh out of college looking for a place to live. You’d really be okay with living here?”

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. My long-term goal is to either have a daycare or pre-school of my own someday. Not having to pay rent for a while would really help me save up for that.”

“That’s an incredible goal to have, Harry.” She smiles, impressed by his ambition. “What questions do you have for me?”

“I just want to clarify, your daughter is eight months?” Jane nods. “And what’s her name?”

“Lilly.” Jane smiles.

“That’s a beautiful name.” Harry smiles. “Why exactly do you need a live-in nanny?”

“I work a lot.” She sighs. “And I’m a single mom. I want her to always have someone here that she can depend on and feel comfortable with. Sometimes my work drags me out in the middle of the night, or I have to take a phone call at an odd hour. I just want someone else here in case I can’t be if something comes up.”

“So, her father’s not in the picture?”

“No.” Her features sour a bit. “He doesn’t even know she exists to be perfectly honest with you. I found out I was pregnant after we broke up, and I decided not to tell him about her. He was a deadbeat moocher, he would have been useless.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but thank you for telling me. May I ask, how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine, does that matter?”

“No! No, I was just more so curious. You seem pretty successful to be in a home like this. In the advert, you stated I’d be given a car as well, that’s not exactly cheap.”

“You’ll be given access to one of my cars.” She says. “I’m not giving you a car, make no mistake about that.” She smirks. “I’m an author, a successful one.” Harry tries to think if he’s ever heard of a Jane Watson before, but he’s coming up blank. “You’ve never heard of me because I have a pen name. If it’s all the same, I don’t really want to share it with you. Not yet, anyways.”

“Sure…wait…are you offering me the job?”

“Not quite. I’d like you to meet my daughter. I want to see how she interacts with you.”

“I’d love to meet Lilly.” He smiles.

“Great, before we do that, do you have more questions?”

“Yes, who’s MaryAnne? Is she, like, a maid or housekeeper?”

“No.” Jane laughs. “She’s my personal assistant. I usually answer the door myself, but pumping took a bit longer than usual.”

“When did you publish your first work?”

“When I was twenty.” She smiles. “I was still in school, and I decided just to self-publish. It took off, and a few companies reached out to me. I eventually got an agent, and the rest was history. I’m a fast writer, I’m able to churn out more projects than most people, and for whatever reason they keep becoming hits. One of the reasons I travel a lot is that a couple of my works are being turned into television shows, and working out those contracts is a lot. I want to be a part of the process to make sure the stories are told correctly.”

“That’s incredible!”

“it is.” She nods. “I never thought I’d be a television producer, but here I am. I don’t really want Lilly around all that, so there’s another reason for having a live-in nanny.”

“This may seem like a silly question, but will I have time off?”

“Oh my goodness, of course! The salary is negotiable as well. You’ll have weekends off, as well as all bank and national holidays. You’ll also earn vacation time and sick leave like at any other job. You’ll be given a benefits package as well, if you need health insurance.”

“You…you provide stuff like that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I’ve just never heard of a nannying job quite like this before.” He blinks. “It feels too good to be true.”

“I’m just a firm believer in compensating someone properly. I believe in investing in the people you have.”

“Right.” He swallows. He almost starting to feel like he was going to be her sugar baby or something, but he obviously knew that wasn’t the case. “You asked me about my dating life, what about yours?”

“I’m also single. Lilly is my top priority, and then comes my work. I’m completely fulfilled as is.” She stands from her desk. “Come, I’ll give you a tour of the house, and of the in-law space, and then you can meet Lilly.”

“Okay.” He stands up and follows her out of the office.

She shows him the living room, which felt more like a study. There was an entertainment room with a huge flat screen, deluxe loungers, a pool table, and bar. She shows him to the kitchen which was equally as extravagant. She brings him upstairs to show him all of the bedrooms.

“This is Lilly’s room.” Jane says proudly.

“it’s beautiful, I love the light purple.”

“So do I.” She says. “My room is down the hall, don’t think you need a tour of that.” She laughs and they head back downstairs. “Here’s the inside entrance to the in-law, but there’s also an exterior entrance you can use…or if you have guests over.” Harry’s in awe of the space. It was larger than his apartment. “It’s a one bedroom flat essentially. There’s a full bath en suite, and there’s a half bath over there. Open concept kitchen and living area. It’s fully furnished as well. Feel free to decorate it however you like. I just ask that this space stays yours. There’s really no reason for you to bring Lilly in here, you know?”

“Sure, yeah. This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s just hope Lilly like you.” Jane smirks, and they head back to the main part of the house, and into Lilly’s playroom. She was sitting with MaryAnne in a large rocking chair. “M, you can feel free to go back to your office if you like. Harry’s going to get acquainted with Lilly.”

“Of course.” MaryAnne stands up with the baby, and hands her over to Jane.

“She has an office here too?” Harry asks.

“Of course she does, and one of the guest rooms upstairs is hers to use when she needs it.” She kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “Lilly,” she coos, “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She gestures for Harry to take her, and he happily does so.

“Hey, baby girl.” Harry coos. Bright hazel eyes look up at him in wonder. He lets her latch onto his index finger. “It’s so nice to meet you.” He looks at Jane. “She’s precious, Miss Watson.”

“Isn’t she?” Jane beams. “She’s really been enjoying her bouncy, and messing around with her blocks. I have some CD’s I like having her listen to as well. Oh! We did a paint with pudding night as a sensory play thing, it was a hoot.” She chuckles.

“Those are great, aren’t they? Very stimulating, and it teaches the child that sometimes messes are okay.” He looks down at Lilly and smiles. “May I sit with her in the rocking chair?”

“Please!” She gestures to it, and she sits down on the loveseat in the room. Harry sits down with Lilly, cradling her carefully. He adjusts her so she’s able to stand on his lap. She bounces herself and giggles. “Look at that!” Jane exclaims. “I love it when she does that.”

“She’s awfully sweet.” Harry smiles, and then he looks at Jane. “How much do you feed her?”

“I give her roughly twenty-four to thirty-two ounces a day. You’ll know how hungry she is or isn’t in the moment. I’ve started giving her pureed butternut squash, mashed bananas and strawberries, she’s got that puffed baby cereal as well. I’ve also started giving her ground chicken in really small doses just to get her some protein, but right now I’ve mostly been sticking to fruits and veggies. You must know a lot about what foods to give a baby?”

“I do.” He nods. “You’re still producing that much milk to give her daily?”

“I’ve almost been wishing I’d dry up. I get so sore somedays.” Jane sighs. “But I figure it’s good for her to have it while I can still make it. I’m not opposed to formular or anything…but I like bonding with her in that way. I got rid of her baby acne by rubbing my nipple on her skin, it was like magic.”

“It’s certainly a trick of the trade.” He smirks at her. “I remember learning that in one of my courses, and I was amazed. You all are super humans.”

Jane watches Harry play on the ground with Lilly for a bit. Harry was already so wonderful with her. Harry starts to smell something, and so does Jane.

“Think it’s time for a diaper change.” He chuckles and picks her up. “Would you like me to change her?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you do it.”

He brings Lilly over to the changing table, and lays her down.

“I know you’re all warm and cozy, but I need to disrupt that for a moment.” He says to the baby girl who was babbling and blowing little spit bubbles, totally unbothered. Harry unsnaps her onesie, and lifts her legs to detach the diaper. His eyes widen at the type of diaper that’s on her. “You cloth diaper?” He looks at Jane.

“It’s better for the environment.” She shrugs. “There’s a trashcan for the…um, poop, and there’s another can for the diapers. I give her a regular diaper for bedtime just because it’s easier to change her in the middle of the night and in the morning, but daytime I use the cloth diapers.”

“Makes sense to me.” Harry disposes of everything, and grabs a few wipes to clean Lilly up. She took a powerful stinky.

“I blame it on the pureed peas.” Jane laughs.

“It doesn’t even phase me anymore, honestly.” Harry says as he gets a little baby powder on her. He grabs a spare cloth diaper, and gets it on her. He snaps her onesie back together and lifts her up. “There we go, good as new, darling girl.” Lilly blows some bubbles at Harry, and blows some back, making her giggle. Jane beams at the two of them.

“It’s about time for her afternoon nap. Would you like to put her down?”

“I’d love to.”

Harry carries Lilly upstairs with Jane. She flips on Lilly’s white noise machine, and makes sure her favorite blankies are in the crib. Harry sits down in the large chair in the corner of the room and starts to rock her gently, giving her soothing rubs. Jane watches as Lilly’s eyelids start to droop. She fights it at first, but Harry continues to soothe her until she’s out like a light. He carefully stands up and sets her down into her crib. The two back out of the room quietly, and make their way down the stairs.

“Let’s go back to my office.” Jane says, and Harry follows her there. Once they’re both seated, she starts speaking again. “Well, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Harry felt every worry from his life leave his body.

“Yes.” She chuckles. “You’ve really impressed me, and I think Lilly’s quite taken with you already. I’d love to have you as her nanny.” She takes out a few forms. “May I have your references? The background check will take about a week. How soon could you start after that?”

“Right away, honestly.” He hands her a sheet with his references.

“Here are the tax forms you’ll need to fill out, a form for direct deposit, and some information on your benefits. You can get everything back to me by the end of next week.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get started, Miss Watson.” He stands to shake her hand, and she stands as she takes it.

“Please, you can call me Jane.”

#love's divine #love's divine part one #call me jane #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #nanny!Harry #nanny!H #nannerry

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ruzek-halstead · 4 years ago

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i found my hand is holding yours

so this started as a drabble and was supposed to be hella short, but please enjoy 1.6k words of julie and luke being absolutely adorable.

julie has been dealing with a persistent classmate who won’t take no for an answer, so luke accompanies her to their end-of-the-term party in hopes to get the point across.

masterlist

"okay, so i have a really weird favour to ask.”

luke looked up from his guitar, arching a brow at julie's obvious distress. they had been at it for a few hours, trying to write a new song, but the motivation wasn't really flowing. ultimately they decided to separate and see what they could come up with on their own. it was a bit pointless since all luke could think about was the girl in the corner and all of his feelings for her.

"there are only a handful of things i wouldn't do for you, jules. so, shoot."

the apparent blush on her cheeks was unavoidable, so she pulled a few stray curls out from behind her ears.

"would you mind coming with me to this end of term party type thing?" julie asked, hesitantly biting her lip. it wasn't that she didn't think he'd be up for it, it was just the uncomfortableness of the entire situation. "it's for everyone in our music program. but there's just this guy who isn't really getting the hint and i figure if —" luke's eyes snapped over to her nervous and fiddling figure as soon as she mentioned a boy. "i'll be there," he replied instantly. his limited motivation to continue strumming his guitar until he found a melody he enjoyed immediately disappeared, and all he could think about was that julie had been feeling uncomfortable lately, and he had no idea. "he's not like a bad guy or anything!" julie rushed to add, because she had a heart of gold and always sought the best in people. "he's sweet, really — sort of. he's just also very persistent and i'm not —" "you don't need to explain," luke told her, shooting her a lopsided grin to calm her nerves. "i'll be there." it was a blessing in disguise that the boys could now be seen by everyone, and not just when they were performing with julie. she would feel much more comfortable with luke by her side; he was her anchor, and it helped that he was so protective, that hopefully he would help get the hint across to her surprise suitor. she knew what luke was thinking; was it nick? and the answer was no. they were friends now, nothing more. but a few months back, a new student joined their program, and he was partnered with julie for a few exercises. she didn't think anything of it, being friendly and polite as per her usual. it seemed like somewhere along the way, he developed feelings for her and no matter how many times she said no to a date, he kept asking. something about persistence? julie hated it. he was still constantly polite and respectful, but the mere fact that he wouldn't take no for an answer was severely unnerving for her. she hoped him seeing her with luke would get the hint across that she wasn't interested (and if it led him to believe that she wasn't available, then so be it). the music program party was being held in the school gym, filled with games, snacks and of course, an open mic. even though julie was a tad bit nervous to attend, luke confidently grabbed onto her hand and quite literally dragged her into the gymnasium. "socialization is good for you, jules," he had said teasingly, to which julie squeezed his hand painfully. he shot her a wolfish grin in response. "i'm going to get us drinks, you good?" luke pondered, ducking his eyes to meet hers. he could tell how nervous she looked by the way she couldn't stop moving her hands, and it irritated him that someone was making her feel weary like this. "jules," he repeated, squeezing her hand. julie nodded, raising her chin in a more obvious display of confidence. "i'm good," she insisted. he pulled on their hands until he was out of her reach and hers dropped back down to her side. the gym was decently filled; julie recognized a number of familiar faces as she actively searched for flynn, who had shot her a message saying she was already here. as she was distracted searching through the crowd, she didn't notice the one person she was trying to avoid. his name was caden, and he was cute and sweet, but he was just not getting it. "hey julie! it's nice to see you!" his hands were shoved into the front pockets of his jeans as he rocked back and forth. "are you planning on singing tonight?" julie shot him a polite smile. she just didn't have it in her to be mean, but she knew if she was a bit more direct and aggressive, this entire situation might end here and now. "probably not. i don't plan on staying long." "oh," his eyes widened, and suddenly julie knew that was the wrong thing to say. "did you maybe want to go out after? coffee or something?" julie felt her panic start to climb its way up her throat; god, where the hell was luke? it's okay, she just had to let him down again. "uh, actually —" "here you go, jules!" julie almost screamed in relief when she heard luke's familiar voice. he slipped in next to her, bumping her hip clumsily. to the untrained eye, it looked like he was just being a walking hazard, but julie knew it was on purpose. he was a touch-oriented person, and his touch soothed julie; they both knew that. luke handed julie a cup of punch, and his gaze flitted to caden, who was staring at them with wide blue eyes. "oh hey! my name's luke, i'm in the band with julie." with his free hand, he reached over to shake caden's hand. caden looked surprised and a tad disappointed, but he was nothing but respectful to luke as he introduced himself. "i'm caden, one of julie's classmates." a comfortable silence passed among them as their focus was directed to the stage where one of their classmates was performing. luke could sense julie's tension and his free hand reached down for hers. he didn't outright tangle their fingers together but his pinky reached out to wrap with hers in a comforting gesture. it gave her the power to do whatever she felt comfortable with. unbeknownst to them, caden watched their entire interaction, and even though he was disappointed, only a blind person wouldn't see their obvious connection. it suddenly dawned on him why julie never seemed to reciprocate his intentions, and he couldn't believe he'd never caught on before (he saw their performances on youtube videos). "ah, so you two are...?" caden trailed off, unsure of what to label it. luke and julie glanced over at him, julie with furrowed eyebrows, and luke with a somewhat smug but innocent expression. "oh, we're not re—" julie started to say, but caden shook his head, smiling. "i should've figure it out sooner," he added, "i've seen the youtube videos. you can't fake that chemistry." luke pursed his lips at the use of the word chemistry. at one point, he'd deny it, but at this point? it would be an outright lie. julie, however, just looked confused. "sure, but that's no—" "it's okay julie, you don't have to explain," caden insisted. "i see the way he looks at you, and i get it now. i'll see you around," he smiled, waving before he walked away. luke awkwardly sipped his drink. he wasn't expecting to be put on blast like that. he couldn't exactly control his eyes and what they did when they looked at julie. she was the embodiment of beauty and music and perfection, and that was everything luke saw when he looked at her. if he was exhibiting 'heart-eyes' (as alex and reggie had told him multiple times), he couldn't stop it. "okay, well, i guess that worked," julie smiled, tapping her cup against luke's in cheers. "although, i wonder why he thought we were — you know." luke glanced over at her. she was watching the stage performance with such a sense of innocence that luke almost didn't want to burst her bubble. almost. "come on, jules," he chuckled, shaking his head when she turned to him with questioning eyes. "you know why." julie pursed her lips, holding his steady gaze. it was challenging because his eyes were absolutely gorgeous and intense, and clearly the way he looked at her made her feel things. sometimes she could feel his gaze on her while she played piano, or while she studied for a test or wrote excitedly in his (their) song journal. sometimes she would look over at him and he'd already be looking at her. and at first, he would look away in embarrassment, but now, he would hold her gaze, sometimes even going as far to send a smirk to really throw her off her game and fluster her. something had changed between them along the way and they both knew it. they just hadn't decided when was the right time to address it. the truth was luke could be ripped away at any moment; the thought caused julie to live in a constant state of paralyzing fear. and so, the time never felt right. "yeah," julie mumbled, reached for his hand again. "i do." julie didn't end up leaving early. she found herself in the corner of the gym, leaning against the wall with luke's arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. they watched performance after performance and they couldn't even be bothered to get up on stage and show them what a real duet looked like because they were so comfortable in each other's arms. and as julie tipped her head onto luke's shoulder, a sudden wave of exhaustion overtaking her, she knew caden never had a chance because her heart was already taken.

tag list: @grootsgillespie || @jayhalsteadcpd || @moreflowersthanweeds || @well-hes-just-too-cute || @echocharm17618 || @leopard-print-slippers || @jandthephantoms || @scribblingfangirl || @n0wornever || @simpformolina || @only-trust-fictional-characters || @snowmione18 || @tellurphantoms || @knitsessed || @carriewilsons || @elitharavenclaw || @wakeupfantoms || @uselessnerdnherblahg || @katie-navarro || @bookwormswillruletheworld || @lmaohuh || @thatsmyverb || @sophiphi || @kybee1497 || @lukewearingbeanies || @sapphireamethystvsco || @constantly-singing || @helloilovejatp || @your-typical-ingenue || @nonickslander || @s-h-a-d-o-w-s || @asdfghjkl-fanfics

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #juke #jukebox #luke x julie #julie x luke #juke fic #juke fics #jatp fic #jatp fics #luke patterson #julie molina #fics

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wings-of-a-storm · 4 years ago

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I have a question. My favorite character is obviously Benji, but this season I started to get an ultimate rancidity of him.In the end I understood why he was acting like this, he has a PTSD because of dating Derek, his parents shitting him and alcohol and the accident. It's about the accident I wanted to know about, I didn't quite understand what this accident was and why he started drinking. I get upset that Benji's story is the least explored in the series, in my opinion, it should be explored more

Sorry for late reply to this, Anon! I know a few others already replied to this but I figure I’d still add my take into the mix for you. :)

I think many of us share your frustrations about Benji’s story being drip fed to us instead of being looked at more deeply. It’s a very interesting history so I really hope that in season three we might actually get a more decent look at it…

BENJI’S HISTORY / WHY HE STARTED DRINKING:

Throughout both seasons we learn that Benji has struggled with mental health.

In the most simplest of summaries: Benji struggled with internalised homophobia -- he hated himself for being homosexual and fought against it. He even experimented sexually with girls (which he briefly mentioned in S1), but in the end, he couldn’t deny that he was gay. But acknowledging he was gay and being able to accept it are two different things. He hated being gay.

In order to cope with that self-hatred and fear, he turned to alcohol to dull his reality and in turn everything he felt. He’s still learning to like himself even now in season two.

In Benji’s own words: “Before I came out, I was kind of a mess. I knew I was gay but I didn't want to be. So I drank. A lot. (1x07)” And: “Coming out was really hard for me, Victor. And it is still hard for me to be who I am. (1x05)”

BENJI’S CAR ACCIDENT:

Benji said that when he was younger, he drank 'a lot'. From that statement alone we can infer that he knew he was drinking more than his peers were. Most likely that went beyond social drinking -- he was probably also drinking by himself at any opportunity.

There is an age limit for drinking for good reason: our brains don’t fully develop until we are in our twenties, and as such, when we are younger we are more likely to make riskier choices. Adding alcohol into the mix is just asking for trouble -- as Benji found out when, one night, severely inebriated, he lost control of his vehicle (or misjudged his surroundings) and drove through/into a building. “One night I got super wasted and decided that I wanted Wendys real bad. So I took my Dad's car to the drive thru and that's exactly what I did -- drove through the Wendys. (1x07)”

That is some serious stuff right there! On so many levels!

Firstly the physical toll: he ‘totalled’ his dad’s car. To have a car written off as too smashed to be driven, that car had a huge impact! And not surprising since Benji said he drove through the building. Whether that was through glass or a into a sturdy wall, to crunch up the metal of his car, that is a massive hit. We don’t know the extent of his injuries (he just said he was ‘banged up’) but we do know that he was at the very least knocked unconscious and/or had a head injury from it (“Waking up in the hospital with my parents standing over me…” 1x07).

Secondly, the emotional toll: when Benji gained consciousness and woke up in hospital, he said he “realised that I could have died." (1x07) That is a very frightening thing to confront -- your mortality. It spooked him enough that it was the catalyst for his Coming Out. He didn’t want to die without “ever really being who I was” (1x07); to have only lived his life as a lie and not known his true self…

Most of us, I’d wager, haven’t had to confront our mortality at such a young age -- like truly confront it after going through a life-threatening experience. In that sense, he is on a different level to his peers and Victor -- a big part of his innocence has been broken and re-formed.

There is more to the emotional toll though -- not explicitly mentioned in canon but pretty much common sense:

The pain of recovery in hospital and at home (whatever “banged up” means, he was injured in some way)

The guilt of knowing his actions could have caused innocent people to have been hurt or killed. No one was hurt, he said, but just knowing they could have been is a really heavy thing to have on your conscience.

The stress of dealing with insurance (for the Wendys, for the car). He would have had to burden his parents with sorting that all out.

Police would have been involved to investigate the incident and lay charges. That’s pretty darn scary.

Losing his licence and thus part of his independence

Seeing the physical damage of the Wendys if he ever went past it again -- knowing he had done it, knowing he had been in the car that made that damage and reliving the knowledge he could have killed himself…

He was so ashamed by it all, he didn’t want anyone at school knowing about the accident or about his drinking that caused it. In 1x07 the school still didn’t know so he really guarded that secret hard.

There’s just so much heaviness linked to that accident. And Benji has only had one year to process all of that. On some level, that stuff has got to linger.

THE INITIAL AFTERMATH:

We learn that after the car accident, Benji was in an ever worse state of mind than when he was drinking his life away before it. His mother reveals: “After your car accident last year you were so hard on yourself and things were pretty dark for a while there. And you decided to put in the hard work [to go to AA and get better]. (2x07)”

Referring to Benji's post-accident self as being in 'a pretty dark place' is a pretty big alarm bell. His mental health sounds like it was pretty much destroyed. It is so hard to rebuild yourself after falling into such a dark well, but over the year he must have pulled himself back from the brink. That is so, so heavy!

It’s hard to gauge whether Benji chose to go to AA himself (which seems to be implied), or whether it was a condition of his charge through the police, but he went there none-the-less to change his life and learn healthier coping mechanisms to handle stress/his inner conflicts.

Something else worth noting is that, timeline-wise (as messy as that always is in LV), Benji was dating Derek through all of this. His one year anniversary with Derek was in S1 but his one year sobriety was only in S2. Who knows how that would have complicated things. He wasn’t Out to his parents or anyone but he was dating a (adult) man. So he was simultaneously hating that he was gay and drinking his mind blank but still dating a man. That is a super stressful and conflicting dichotomy that he was dealing with in amongst all this… (“It is still hard for me to be who I am.” 1x05)

THE MOST IMPORTANT INSIGHT FROM BENJI’S DRINKING AND AA:

It is so important to take time and realise what being in AA means about Benji: as a young teen, Benji self-medicated his way through his worsening mental health by drinking to handle stress and internalised homophobia. He didn’t have any proper methods of handling stressful situations. He is now having to unlearn those behaviours and learn new strategies through AA and his sponsor. But he has only been doing that for one year! That is a blip of time in the hourglass.

Now let’s look at the events of S2: Benji has been inundated with stress while still learning how to cope with it without drinking. And he’s had to learn and practise these new coping strategies while:

Being in high school

Holding down an assistant manager job

Watching his significant other being emotionally wrung out by his mother’s treatment of him; dealing with his own rejection and banishment from Isabel

Reliving both his own coming out stress and homophobic aggressions at school directed this time at his significant other

Trying to deal with the shame of being in AA and keeping that a secret from all of his peers at school

Like far out, that is a ton of stress! Anyone would crack under all of that, let alone a young and recovering alcoholic!

So yes, when faced with stressful situations, Benji is not always going to react in the right way or say the right things. He’s still learning how to do that with his sponsor and AA meetings. He might come off as ‘rancid’ in S2, but really he is just a kid who is struggling and trying to do his best.

#LV ask #Love Victor #LV S2 analysis #Benji Campbell

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writer-dreams · 4 years ago

Text

Colors (Draco Malfoy X Reader)

I'll be honest, I've had this one fully written since last week. I've just been very nervous to post it because the ending is so bad 😅. I haven't been sure how to fix it and I've re-written it several times. This fic is definitely rushed but hey, it's a one-shot (and I wanted to try writing something short and sweet for once). This is still part of the Cliche Month Challenge by @wreckofawriter (sorry this was so late). I've finally gained enough courage to post it and I hope you enjoy this messy fic.

Prompt: An AU where you can only see the shades of your soulmate's eyes until you first touch.

House: You choose

Blood Status: You choose

Warnings: Possible swearing

Note: Again, very messy. Not sure I like this one too much. The reader in this story is female / uses female pronouns.

Word Count: 1,694 words

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

3rd Person POV

Y/n opened her eyes to see the world was still the same shade of steel grey. She longed to know what the world truly looked like, to see actual colors other than this grey. When she was younger, she was ecstatic to learn that someone out there was destined to be with her. She used to fantasize about meeting her soulmate, seeing in color and her falling in love. She imagined what her soulmate would look like, what their personality was like, their likes and dislikes.

Now, as she grew older, she began to develop fears. What if they didn't like her? Even if the universe had put them together, there was still a chance they could reject her. What if she didn't like them? She never considered herself to be a picky person, especially when it came to love, but that didn't mean that they couldn't have a horrible personality. All of her friends have already met with their soulmates, and it did seem like they matched each other perfectly. They always talked about how beautiful the world was and how they couldn't wait until she could see the colors too.

She snapped out of her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she walked off to the courtyard, hoping a good book could distract her from the whole soulmate situation.

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

Y/n wasn't sure how much time had passed when she finally finished her book. A few hours, at least. She looked around the courtyard, seeing that she was the only one there. She sighed, deciding to go back inside. Y/n looked at the sky, dreaming about the day she could finally see the blue sky her friends talked about. She wondered how beautiful the night sky looked when it was in full color, how pretty a sunset could be. Yet, all she could see was grey. She was almost at the point where she would begin to resent the color. Still, she remained patient, still trying to hold on to the small shred of hope that she would someday meet the one.

On her way in, she bumped into someone rather harshly. The two fell back, Y/n closing her eyes and rubbing her head gently from where it hit the ground. When she opened her eyes, her mind was blown as suddenly, she could see the world in color. Amazed, Y/n slowly took in her surroundings, admiring the green grass and the blue sky. She looked at the bark of the trees, the castle, the white fluffy clouds. Her eyes began to fill with tears as she slowly let it all sink in. She could see, she could finally see! It was all so much more beautiful than she could have ever imagined.

The boy in front of her got up with a groan. In her dazed state, Y/n had almost forgotten about him. She looked back at him to see platinum blonde hair and grey eyes looking back at her. Her face immediately became shocked as she recognized that familiar face, those eyebrows, those thin lips, those sharp cheekbones. Draco Malfoy.

Said boy looked back at her with the same shocked eyes. He glanced quickly around him, an astonished expression on his face. His grey eyes landed back on her, almost in disbelief.

"You're my—" They both whispered.

Y/n couldn't do this. Even when he didn't know they were soulmates, Draco Malfoy was a bigoted twat. How could the universe possibly pair her up with him? Y/n shook her head, before she got up and quickly retreated to her dormitory. She could hear Draco calling after her but she ignored him and simply kept running.

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

When she arrived, most of her friends were already there, talking amongst each other on their beds. At the sound of the door opening, they all turned their heads and greeted her. Y/n still couldn't believe that she could see in color because of Draco Malfoy. Now, she could see the color or her friend's hairs and their eyes. She turned to a mirror and examined her reflection, playing with her (h/c) hair. She could see that she had (e/c) eyes, which was so surprising, considering that she had only seen a grey version of herself for years.

"Hey, Y/n! I just want you to know that you're beautiful and you better not be saying bad things about yourself to that mirror!" (F/n) said.

"I'm not....I just...."

"You'll find your soulmate eventually, Y/n. Then you can finally see how pretty you are." Another friend reassured.

Y/n smiled back at her, not sure if she should tell her friends that she met them and that it was the worst possible matchup ever. She decided against it, telling herself that the universe had made a mistake. There was no way that Malfoy was her soulmate, she refused to believe it.

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

Almost a week had passed after that incident and Y/n was still avoiding Draco. She could see him trying to reach out to her but she would quickly lose him in the crowded hallways. Everyday, every hour, she was playing a game of avoidance cat and mouse. She had gotten pretty good at it too, swiftly navigating her way through all the students.

Today was just another one of those days. There she was again, quickly walking through the crowds, afraid that she would see Malfoy and have to talk to him. Luckily for her, she managed to make it to class without running into him. She settled into her seat next to her friends, who were quietly gossiping to each other.

"Malfoy's been pretty quiet lately. Hasn't been taunting Potter or anything. He's not even picking on any first years."

"Maybe Dumbledore's finally had enough of his behaviour. Or maybe his father threatened to ground him or something."

Y/n stayed silent, listening in to their conversation. Great, even if she could physically escape Malfoy, he was still there in conversation. It really seemed like the universe was insistent that it was right with this pairing.

"Could you guys stop talking about Malfoy? He's old news anyway. Who cares if he's not bullying anyone for once? Maybe he's actually become a decent person." Y/n snapped.

Her friends looked at each other. "What's gotten you so riled up? You care about him or something?"

"Nothing. I just don't wanna hear about him. Let's just focus on the class, okay?"

Her friends nodded slowly, looking at her suspiciously before they changed the topic of their conversation. Why did she defend him? Everyone, including her, knew that he was a prat and that wasn't changing. Y/n sighed quietly, feeling frustrated. Another thing she had kept to herself was a feeling of longing for the blonde male. He appeared in her dreams like a prince offering to sweep her off her feet. She'd feel drawn to him when she saw him in the hallways, even when she forced herself to stay away from him. Y/n was afraid as to what it could mean, she couldn't accept the truth.

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

After classes ended, she continued through her usual route back to her dormitory. Unfortunately for her, Draco Malfoy was waiting for her right at the entrance. She quickly turned to try and make a getaway but he grabbed her arm.

"Wait. L/n, can we please talk?"

"What's there to talk about?" Y/n asked coldly, even when her heart fluttered at his touch.

"Just, come with me." Draco began pulling her away as Y/n rolled her eyes and allowed him to drag her.

He took her to an empty hallway, where he finally let her go. Y/n looked at him expectantly, putting her hands on her hips. She knew this was coming, there was no avoiding it, especially when the universe constantly pushed them together. The universe can rot in hell.

"So...we both know that we're.....soulmates. Why do you avoid it?" He sounded hurt, and Y/n's heart ached at the thought of that.

"Because, you're Draco Malfoy. You bully Potter and practically everyone else in this school. All you care about is blood status, the Slytherin house, and impressing your arsehole daddy. You're a spoiled brat who acts like you're entitled to everything, and I refuse to be one of those things just because I'm your 'soulmate'." Y/n growled at him.

He seemed to take everything she said into consideration, which was extremely out of character for him. "I can change, Y/n. I can change for you. In fact, I already have. Haven't you noticed how silent I've been? It's been the talk of the school this entire week." He said, desperately. Y/n wondered why he was so persistent, why did he continuously chase her, even when she actively ran away?

"You feel it too, don't you? A pull to me, like a bond?" Draco asked, watching her carefully. Y/n didn't answer but her silence gave her away. "I feel it too. I see you in my dreams and Merlin, I feel my heart race when I see you. I know you think this is a mistake, but the universe doesn't make mistakes. I love you, Y/n. Just give me a chance to prove it." Draco took her hand softly.

Y/n felt it. Some sort of invisible bond tying her to him. The universe had her in its clutches and it would not let her go. She felt her heart tighten and she sighed. What could it hurt to try? Clearly, the universe wasn't giving up on this and maybe there was a good reason for that. She remembered that feeling of longing for the Slytherin boy and bit her lip.

Damn it all.

She took Draco's face and smashed her lips against his. It felt like everything clicked into place as he held her face and kissed back. His lips fit perfectly against hers and she could feel the world around them stop. It was as if the universe was satisfied with its work and was allowing them to enjoy their moment. She pulled away and opened her eyes, the colors around her seemingly more vibrant than before. Draco looked at her with the widest smile on his face.

"I'll take that as a yes?" He chuckled.

"Don't make me regret it, soulmate." Y/n smiled back.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Permanent Taglist (if your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you for some reason):

@my-name-is-jazzy-x

**********************************************

Thank you so much for reading! This was pretty hard to write (I guess I'm not that good at soulmate AU's yet 😅). I hope it wasn't too horrible to read. Yes, I am still working on requests while I'm writing these things (I promise). Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Until next time.

-Jade

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rigelmejo · 3 years ago

Text

Extensive Reading Updates - Zhenhun

I have been extensively reading zhenhun, my print novel version so I am not looking up any words. (Whereas with the hanshe pingxie fanfiction I am still occasionally clicking a word). I have read the first 20 chapters of the webnovel version of zhenhun in Pleco in the past few months, so most unknown words I have looked up before at some point. So right now I'm re-reading a lot of the same content and will be until I get past chapter 20.

I can tell that my comprehension of zhenhun probably is at about 95%. As in, its enough that I can follow the main plot and most key info details, but there's enough unknown words that I cannot guess some of them from context if its a totally new part of the novel I'm reading. And I run into a number of words in the in-depth scenery and character backstory descriptions that I just do not know and there's enough I don't always have enough context to guess relatively closely to their meaning.

Since these first 20 chapters are a re-read more or less, I have the extra context of 'knowing the overall plot that happens here' already. So I'm reading slower than I probably could, trying to figure out any unknown words from all the surrounding word context and the prior-plot-knowledge I have. For these re-reading sections this is working well, a majority of the words I can re-remember or figure out. I am hoping I will pick up enough of THESE kinds of unknown-words during this re-reading portion, so that hopefully my comprehension when I get to the new parts of the book will be a bit higher than 95%. Then hopefully once I get into totally new parts of the book: my reading speed will be a bit better (less unknown words I hope lol), and I will know a bit more words to guess more totally-new unknown words (that I've never looked up before) vague overall meanings.

Examples of what things I can read clearly versus parts I can't figure out all of the words enough to be relatively sure of the details. In chapter 1, I can read the parts about "Guo Changcheng having a phobia of phone calls" clearly, but then the details about him being afraid of people and having social anxiety I can follow certain parts, but other parts of the descriptions (like him when he sees a teacher or principal) I just sort of vaguely guessed meant he was terrified of them. When chapter 1 described Zhao Yunlan's entrance, I could clearly follow the parts about him looking serious/having a bad attitude and walking fast with the attitude of "if you're in my way roll the fuck away" and then the part about how instantly his mood changed to warm, he smiled friendly, he talked kindly and helped Guo Changcheng out by patting at his shoulder when Guo Changcheng got all sweaty trying to shake hands. But then the part about how Guo Changcheng sensed a seriousness/almost-scariness about Zhao Yunlan? All those details read vague to me and I am just summarizing that my interpretation of it was "even acting friendly, Guo Changcheng felt he was serious underneath/powerful/had an intimidating vibe." And since that detail read SO vague to me, I can't tell if that was an early hint Zhao Yunlan might be a god/used to have been Kunlun, if its just another implication Guo Changcheng is afraid of people/authority figures, or if it was trying to imply something else I just did not pick up on. So even WITH the re-reading prior context of these scenes, in-depth descriptions of character's intepretations still are more vague to me even if I can guess some of the words. I imagine this will get worse when I get to the totally new chapters - unless I learn a LOT of helpful words from context by the time I get through the first 20 chapters.

When I re-read the Kunlun intro I realized I may have translated some details wrong when I translated it to english several months ago. Now, this time I didn't use a dictionary to read at all, so it's possible I also did not interpret the details I read correctly THIS time around. But yeah, a couple days ago when I re-read that part I interpreted the 'qing yi' as possibly green/blue cloth Kunlun is wearing as the blizzard is blowing (whereas when I first translated that line months ago I thought it meant 'clear white fabric' blowing in the wind like some ripped piece of cloth - its also possible this time it still means 'bright cloth' but I do think it sounds more like its Kunlun's clothes than a random cloth blowing in the wind). And this time, when I read about Shennong it seemed more like he was either a god who'd lost his powers, or a god who'd lost his godhood fully, and its just he still retained his kind unselfish demeanor. Whereas when I first translated, I figured he was just a god 'who'd suffered' because of the great calamity that had just happened, but not particularly doing any worse than that. In this re-read though it feels to me more like its implying something more severe has happened to him/is happening. Also during this re-read, the line about 'the hole in the ground being so deep the rain did not even reach this far down' was much clearer for me whereas when I initially translated I had to look up a Ton of words in that section and still didn't quite get what it meant.

Also for the chapter 1 re-read, certain details were much easier for me to clearly understand. The part about McDonalds I FINALLY recognized that word in the sentence, the part about Guo Changcheng parking then going into the courtyard area and seeing the lobby office building, the part about human resources department, all of those sections I followed the details much easier than last time I read with a dictionary. So yeah, I'm curious which parts will be 'clearer' to me this time reading.

I am still reading at a slow 5 minutes a page (speed I was reading print novel of zhenhun last time). But to be fair? I am slowing down to try and figure out every unknown right now on the re-reading sections. And I read english fiction at like 3-4 minutes a page (why???? Do I just... picture and savor a lot???). I know when I'm reading nonfiction or back when I'd read class-assigned things I could read way faster, but I think its just because I scanned for important info and details and then moved on. Idk but...I really do read english fiction too slow too lol (I'm reading a friend's book and I've read like 110 pages despite like 10 hours on this book so far T-T just because I keep savoring it and pausing and rereading). I'm rereading a fic I wrote, so I know everything that happens, and I was reading like 1 page every 3-4 minutes ;-;. I know I can read super fast I think when I like something I just... slow down. Now, my chinese is reading slow just because reading slow is ALL I can do lol. But I may need... to be more realistic that any novel may take me 20-30 hours optimistically when I read like an english novel that's only 300 pages over 3 weeks now and I'm only 1/3 through it.

I can read chinese a touch faster if its actually in my 98% comprehended range I think. For hanshe, while when I'm slowing down looking up all unknown words its probably around the same speed as zhenhun? While I'm just reading to follow the story, I can finish a whole chapter in a handful of minutes. Now, like zhenhun, I am currently reading chapters I have already read before - so the familiarity is likely speeding me up. So that fact does mean it probably won't be as easy/fast once I get to the new chapters. At the moment though, unknown words pretty much all I have a good guess of understanding roughly in context (a lot like me reading fanfic in middle to high school as far as the amount of new vocabulary beyond my range that is not affecting my understanding). I just do not necessarily have a good chance of guessing completely new hanzi pronunciations (which is the main reason I keep occassionally looking up words). The hanzi I've vaguely seen before, I can sometimes guess their reading based on radical or the other word I know them from. But the completely new hanzi I do not remember seeing at all (although I did apparently at some point during the first read through) - I cannot make a decent pronunciation guess sometimes. And of course, the hanzi I always cannot guess correctly for the life of me (looking at you 'suspicious' 'hesitate' 'doubt' because I am STILL getting those 3 words/hanzi in them confused even though I've probably looked up each word like 40 times at least).

For me, print text is slightly easier to read (and in extensive reading its somewhat easier for me to guess new word meanings/hanzi). By this I mean the font they usually use for print novels (it looks a bit more like handwriting with more slanted lines and less 'blocky' of a look). I sort of think its because the print text usually used in books has more obvious radicals to me. So my eyes parse out the radicals I'm looking at easier and can make a guess at meaning/pronunciation. An obvious example is any time a 'sound noise' is written with hanzi with the mouth radical on them. When I'm reading in print text, I recognize 'mumbled, shouted, humph'ed, sighed, breathed in etc quite quickly. Along with sounds like 'xililala' and 'deng deng deng' and there was a sound phrase used I think in Guo Changcheng's section about school in chapter one that was like he sort of 'tumbled/fumbled his way through school' and while i know tumbled/fumbled is probably not Exactly the word? It looked like a sound-noise word to me because of the mouth radical, so I figured it might be something like that? Whereas I know when I read the webnovel if I saw a 4 hanzi phrase like that I would've just gotten confused by those hanzi cause I wouldn't have recognized the meaning of the other radicals in the hanzi. Also a few weeks ago I changed a fic I was reading's text to the print-usual text in Pleco, and had a much easier time reading less slow/recognizing hanzi I'd seen before. That said, recently reading a ton of hanshe has helped computer-text reading ability a bit I think. I'm getting much more used to recognizing radicals in computer-text website usual font, which I notice most obviously in that I'm hitting more 'sound hanzi' that are getting less confusing to me to recognize.

So I guess in summary, reading extensively is going fine. I'll find out in a few weeks if its causing any improvements. I do think its helping with my ability to recall words/pronunciations of words I've seen before though. Just because the quicker I can do that the less I pause, and I don't have a dictionary to help me out so I seem to remember some pronunciations quicker (maybe because I 'have' to). I also think its helping me with general sentence parsing a bit - which I thought I was fine at, but on re-reading the beginning of zhenhun I am realizing there's a decent amount of sentences I did NOT interpret quite right the first time around even with a dictionary.

#september #september progress #reading progress #i am happy my reading skill is improving but as usual its definitely a slow progress #i would not be surprised if i read zhenhun AGAIn in a year #and found out yet Again how many details i'd misunderstood prior lol #i think thats. just how it is sometimes maybe

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imaginaryelle · 5 years ago

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Would you do anything with Wei Ying and the 4 main Juniors like either a fic or just how they interact in the show compared to the older generations

(Many thanks to @miyuki4s for the awesome beta work!)

It’s a banquet. A banquet Wei Wuxian was not, technically, invited to, but which he is attending nevertheless because no one in charge figured out he wasn’t supposed to be there until he’d already been offered food.

Such kind servants the Yao Sect has. Such a contrast to their sour Sect Leader, who keeps staring into his wine as if it’s turned to vinegar on his lips.

Wei Wuxian decides not to test his welcome too long—yes, he had been rather useful on the night hunt this afternoon, and yes, his role in Jin Guangyao’s downfall and the known fact of the Chief Cultivator’s favor do buy him a certain amount of social standing with the major Sects, but he’s not going to sit in a man’s hall all night mocking him with his very presence.

Well, he might.

Okay, he definitely would, except the wine is merely decent and the conversation is stilted and, frankly, boring. It would be bearable if he was getting to watch Lan Wangji endure it as well, but alas, the Chief Cultivator has pressing business in Yunmeng, apparently, which must be quite pressing indeed for Jiang Cheng to ask for him and which Wei Wuxian is certain would only be made more difficult by his own presence, even if he does still worry about Jiang Cheng, somewhere in a not-so-secret corner of his heart. So instead of making small talk or setting off into the night he takes his wine and bows out of the hall to Sect Leader Yao’s disgruntled nod of acknowledgment and goes in search of better entertainment.

He finds it just around the side of the disciples’ dormitories, behind a stand of magnolia trees.

Lan Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen and several other vaguely familiar young members of various clans are sitting in what looks to be a small garden, huddled around what is quite probably either illicitly procured food or, more probably, wine. There’s a flash of gold near the center, and Wei Wuxian is able to answer the slightly-nagging question of where his nephew disappeared to halfway through the feast. Fairy, thankfully, is nowhere in sight. He wonders, for just a moment, whether they purposefully left Lan Sizhui’s reasonable voice out of this clearly ill-advised venture before he catches sight of him half-hidden behind Lan Jingyi’s shoulder, a look of fond exasperation on his face.

Wei Wuxian takes a drink of his own wine and prepares to keep walking—there’s probably a rooftop somewhere with a good view of both the garden and the waning moon to keep him entertained without disturbing anyone else’s fun.

“Ah! Wei-qianbei!” It’s one of the ones Wei Wuxian doesn’t quite remember who greets him, which is a little embarrassing, but the boy’s wearing Yao sect robes and looks like he lost a fight with a thorn bush—ah. Young master Liang Fai, who got a little too up close and personal with a malevolent spirit this afternoon. He beckons Wei Wuxian closer, either ignoring or not noticing those of his companions who freeze in place—Lan Jingyi and two other Lans try valiantly to look as if they have not touched alcohol and Lan Sizhui offers up a slightly chagrined smile—or those who are making only mildly obvious efforts to stop him. Jin Ling looks for a moment as if he might bolt through a nearby bush. “Wei-qianbei, can you teach us that talisman you used today? The one that banished the mist.”

A few of the others actually do look interested in that, even Jin Ling, at least until Wei Wuxian shakes his head.

“You can achieve the same effect with a basic spirit-repelling talisman,” he informs them. Blood is stronger than ink, of course, but he remembers their eagerness in Yi City. Best not to mention that. “It’s nothing special.”

“What about your ward-breaker then?” Lan Jingyi asks. Wei Wuxian arches an eyebrow at him.

“Hanguang-jun did a lecture on it,” Lan Sizhui puts in, soft-spoken and reasonable as ever. “On your inventions, like spirit-attraction flags. He said you had a ward-breaker talisman.”

“I might,” Wei Wuxian allows, though it was never really a secret. “How good’s your brushwork?”

The next half hour is a delightful rush of fresh ink, waving paper and bright enthusiasm. Enthusiasm, of course, is key in the creation of this particular talisman. Enthusiasm, focus, and delicate control of a brush. A few of them can produce a handful of sparks in their first tries. Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui each manage one butterfly, to their evident glee and Wei Wuxian’s lavish praise. Ouyang Zizhen manages a quietly smug three, to general acclaim. They finish the wine, and someone steals more, and an hour goes by and the moon rises higher and then Jin Ling, a little flushed but entirely determined, asks:

“Can you tell us about the Sunshot Campaign?”

Everyone goes quiet. Wei Wuxian laughs, too loud in the long shadows. He is burningly aware that Lan Sizhui—Wen Yuan—is sitting somewhere on his left.

“Surely you’ve learned all about that already,” he says. His smile feels stretched too-thin across his face.

“Not really.” Jin Ling frowns. Wei Wuxian can’t decide if the expression makes him look more like Jin Zixuan or Jiang Cheng, but it’s familiar frustration either way. “Jiujiu won’t tell me anything and—” he stops, lips pressing tight together.

“There are a few stories,” Ouyang Zizhen says in a sort of hushed whisper that makes everyone lean in closer. “but it’s strange, they’re always—”

“It’s always the same stories,” Liang Fai says. “No matter who you ask. It’s always about how awful Wen Ruohan and his sons were, and then the Yin Iron, and the razing of Cloud Recesses and Lotus Pier. Then the Sects rise and Lian—and Meng Yao goes undercover, and Chifeng-zun lays siege to Nightless City.”

“My father always says the Wens reached too far,” Ouyang Zizhen adds. “That they were arrogant and thought they held the authority of the Heavens themselves. But when I ask what happened before the war, or why they attacked Cloud Recesses, he just talks in circles. Sometimes I’m not even sure he knows the answer at all.”

“There’s not much detail,” says Lan Jingyi. “Honestly, I’ve gotten more out of merchants and kids playing in the street than most cultivators. There are more stories about you, really. After. When you were at the Burial Mounds.”

Wei Wuxian sighs. Of course there are. Just as now, when there are so many stories of Jin Guangyao, once more Meng Yao to the vindictive and impressionable, and how people always knew he was up to something. Even at the time, when the events were fresh in everyone’s mind, no one had wanted to remember who the Wens were before the war. If they had, Wei Wuxian might not have been the only one standing by the survivors.

He finds Lan Sizhui’s eyes in the dim moonlight, but Lan Sizhui only stares back at him, as calm and composed as if he’s waiting for a lecture in Cloud Recesses. All the young faces around him are intent and watchful. Waiting. Waiting for him to prove, as he has so many times before, that he’s different from their parents. Because he is, just—maybe not as different as they think.

“It was a war,” he says. “There are better things to talk about. Like—oh, the clouds, the clouds are very nice tonight.”

The clouds are nice. For the record. Worthy of poetry even. But of course these are determined young cultivators. They aren’t just going to let this go.

“It’s when most of them earned their titles,” Jin Ling says. Insists. “And they weren’t—you weren’t—that much older than we are. Not really. What’s so bad that we can’t know it?”

Wei Wuxian remembers a sudden flash of sky, of grass scraping at his scalp and cheek as his brother’s hands closed around his neck. He remembers his sister’s hands, raw and swollen from scrubbing and boiling cloth for bandages. The way Lan Wangji had turned away when he’d asked, and your brother? Your uncle? in the Xuanwu cave. The taste of corpse-dirt in the back of his throat.

There are many, many things that no one should ever have to know. And yet … Jin Ling asks so little of him, in the usual way of things. And not every memory is a weakness their elders will resent.

“What do you know about the Yin Iron?” he asks. It’s a safe enough subject—for one thing, he’s something of an expert, and that’s something he made his peace with long ago. For another, it doesn’t reach too deep into the scars lurking under his skin, and he knows that it has to be part of what Jiang Cheng doesn’t talk about: watching his new recruits, cultivators who trusted and believed in him, become mindless foes with the same face. These young cultivators have seen corpse puppets, but they’ve never seen someone turn before their eyes. Someone they knew and fought alongside. Someone they called brother or sister. He can’t imagine Lan Wangji or anyone else from that time talking about it either.

“It can be used to control corpses,” Lan Jingyi says promptly. “To make them stronger. And used too long, the Yin energy can be damaging to the spirit.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. Of course the Lans would teach that second part. He wonders if they also teach of Lan Yi’s sacrifice, these days. He picks up his brush again and sketches an incomplete array—unbalanced and open ended. Energy ever re-directed against its source.

“Have you thought about what control of corpses means, on a battlefield without Yin Iron of your own? Where every fallen ally can become an enemy?”

The sudden stillness around him would indicate that no, they haven’t. More than one looks like his wine is not agreeing with him.

Wei Wuxian picks up another piece of paper and starts a new talisman—fire, to burn away impurities. “There’s a lot I really don’t remember.” He laughs a little and lights the paper with a twist of his fingers. “My memory has always been bad.”

There is quiet as the paper burns to ash and the night breeze sweeps even that away. Wei Wuxian reaches for the wine and pours himself another drink, and that seems to break the moment at least a little. Jin Ling looks particularly disappointed, and Wei Wuxian is debating telling the one or two actually decent stories he has of Jin Zixuan when someone else speaks first.

“But, Wei-qianbei …” Ouyang Zizhen looks around at his friends and Sect brothers, and then back to Wei Wuxian, determination hardening his features. “If we don’t know how it happened, how will we know how to stop it happening again?”

There are nods around the circle, and Wei Wuxian takes another drink to swallow back the tightness rising in his throat. “I’m really not the right person to ask,” he says. It’s a very noble sentiment they’re nurturing of course, but the world had turned on him much the same way it had on the Wens, and —ahah. He gestures at Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui, triumphant.

“Hanguang-jun,” he says. They stare at him.

“Hanguang-jun doesn’t talk about the war either.” Lan Sizhui’s gaze doesn’t waver, trained on Wei Wuxian.

“There are innumerable things our esteemed Chief Cultivator never puts into words,” Wei Wuxian agrees with a languid wave of his hand, “but does that really mean you don’t know what he thinks?”

Lan Sizhui blinks, then smiles at him.

“The seminars,” says Jin Ling. “He’s setting up—I don’t know, really, lectures and trainings and things, in Gusu and Caiyi, inviting people to speak or visit from all over. Jiujiu says he’ll probably be pushing the rest of us to do that too, soon.”

Ouyang Zizhen nods. “The watchtowers were Jin Guangyao’s project after the war, right? My father says Hanguang-jun wants something better than watchtowers. That he’s working on a new talisman, like the Jin Clan’s butterfly messengers.”

Jin Ling frowns, his hands tightening around his sword. “He hasn’t mentioned the butterfly messengers to me.”

“It’s Hanguang-jun. I don’t think he said anything about it to anyone, Father just saw him writing talismans that turn into pigeons after that conference focused on the towers.”

“Sect Leader Yao doesn’t like how he’s treating the smaller sects.” Liang Fai turns his helmet between his hands, his expression thoughtful. “He says the Chief Cultivator will recognize even just two people as a new sect, if they own so much as a single house to train out of. It’s making the bigger sects nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” says Jin Ling, scowling at him. “And neither is the Jiang Sect.”

“Ah, ah!” Wei Wuxian interrupts before tensions can draw any higher and waves his hands in the space between Jin Ling and Liang Fai. “Let’s talk about something else. Right?”

Jin Ling looks away, but the conversation doesn’t change.

“He’s worried about communication and response time,” says Lan Jingyi. “He’s always said it’s a cultivator’s job to go where the need is.”

“If more people can identify a problem, or know the right techniques, it won’t get out of hand,” Ouyang Zizhen agrees. “And with more sects, there are more cultivators in more places. It makes sense.”

“He travels.” All eyes shift to Lan Sizhui, who looks only at Wei Wuxian. “That’s part of what you mean, isn’t it? When Lianfang-zun was Chief Cultivator, everyone went to Lanling to speak with him. To the home of the Jin Sect. But Hanguang-jun doesn’t accept as many visiting parties. Most of the time, he goes to them.”

Lan Jingyi’s face scrunches up, doubtful. “I thought that was because he didn’t want to host so many banquets.”

“He still has to attend just as many,” Lan Sizhui points out. “Maybe more, even.”

“He’s staying neutral,” Jin Ling says, sudden and with an expression like he’s even surprising himself. “He can’t speak for Gusu Lan. That’s why Grandmaster Qiren is still at every conference. Because he’s Chief Cultivator, but not Sect Leader.”

That seems to be some sort of breaking point—several people start talking at once, and Wei Wuxian slowly eases himself out of the circle; he’s not needed anymore, and he should probably see himself out before Sect Leader Yao feels forced to offer him a place to sleep. Also, he’s out of wine.

Lan Sizhui meets him at the gates.

“Tell him we’re happy to help, with anything.”

Wei Wuxian frowns at him, confused. “Tell who?”

“Hanguang-jun. When you see him.” Lan Sizhui smiles and pets Little Apple’s nose. “Tell him we want to help. Even Jin Ling, though he might grumble about it.”

Wei Wuxian feels a sudden pang of homesickness—for the familiar walls of Lotus Pier, and for Lan Wangji’s steady presence at his side. But traveling to Yunmeng is no better an idea now that it was this afternoon.

“Ah, A-Yuan,” he says, “you can tell him yourself. You’ll probably see him before I do.”

Lan Sizhui looks doubtful, but he doesn’t argue. He seems to hesitate a moment, and then he sort of lunges into Wei Wuxian’s side and hugs him.

“What—”

“Thank you,” Lan Sizhui says as Wei Wuxian tries to figure out what to do with his hands. They’ve only done this a few times, still, and he’s not entirely sure what’s allowed when, and he’s desperately anxious to not mess it up.

“For what?” he asks, settling his free hand on Lan Sizhui’s back.

“For helping us,” Lan Sizhui says, almost at a whisper, and Wei Wuxian is sure they’re not talking about the gaggle of young cultivators in the garden anymore. He tightens the curl of his arm.

“You don’t need to thank me, A-Yuan. I—”

“Ning-shushu told me a little,” Lan Sizhui interrupts him, the words half-muffled in his collar. “And I’ve heard—I know all the same stories as the rest of them. I mean it. Thank you.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, but he doesn’t protest aloud again. Instead he wraps his other arm around Lan Sizhui as well, and tucks his chin over Lan Sizhui’s white-clad shoulder. He watches the gauzy clouds drift slowly across the brightness of the moon and makes a silent promise:

This time, they’ll do better.

#the untamed #chen qing ling #wei wuxian #lan sizhui #jin ling #ouyang zizhen #lan jingyi #the juniors #alex writes #Anonymous

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emy-loves-you · 4 years ago

Text

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 5: Post-Apocalypse

Remus gets injured while running away from a hoard. Janus tends to his wounds, and they make a new friend

Janus POV, Dukeceit, parental Moxiety and slight parental Anxceit

Day 4 | Masterlist | Day 6

“What on earth were you thinking!?!”

Remus smiled, completely ignoring the large gash in his arm. “They were after me! And I had to get back to the love of my life!” He waggled his eyebrows, and Janus barely resisted the urge to smack him.

“Why didn’t you go around the barbed wire fence? You knew where the entrance was!”

“Because it was quicker to go over the fence, duh. And so much more fun. I felt like I was in an action-horror movie!” He pumped his arms into the air, completely ignoring his injury.

Janus sighed, moving to grab the first-aid kit. “And why didn’t you wear your jacket? You know how difficult it is for zombies to bite through that thing. And you probably wouldn’t need stitches right now if you had worn it.”

Remus pouted. “Because you were sleeping with it! And if I’d woken you up you would’ve convinced me to stay.”

“Yeah, because there definitely weren’t over 300 zombies in the area!”

“You know I would do it again in a heartbeat!” Remus’ smile was completely gone (was it ever truly there in the first place?) and Janus sighed as he directed Remus to sit on the nearest tree stump. They stood in silence for several minutes as Janus tended to Remus’ injury. For the first half of the procedure, there were no sounds beyond Remus’ quiet hissing when Janus tugged too harshly on a stitch.

After most of the wound was closed, Janus spoke up. “You know he’s probably dead.” He kept his eyes trained on the stitches. He didn’t need to look up to know what expressions lied on Remus’ face. They’ve had this conversation dozens of times, after all.

Remus sighed. “I know. But if there’s even the smallest chance that Ro’s alive, I’m gonna find him.” Janus offered no sympathy. He knew that would only fuel the fire. “I can’t lose him, Jan. Not again.”

Janus remained silent as he tended to Remus’ wound. As he finished stitching and moved on the bandaging, Janus let his mind wander. It’s been almost 3 years since the outbreak started. Janus and Remus were just friends at the time. Remus and Roman (Remus’ twin brother) had gotten into an argument right before Roman moved across the country. After the outbreak started, Remus had made it his goal to find Roman. A difficult goal, especially since the zombies had multiplied overnight, making it impossible to travel on road or through cities. But Remus never gave up. So here they were, over 2,000 miles away from home, searching for any signs of life while barely surviving themselves.

Once Janus had Remus completely patched up, they packed up to leave. The scent of Remus’ blood would eventually attract zombies. It would be best to travel as far as possible before setting up camp for the night.

They walked for around 6 hours, talking about whatever topic came to mind. Well, it was more of Remus bringing up a random topic and Janus bringing up different counterarguments. They eventually made camp down by a stream in the middle of the woods. The sun was close to setting as Janus collected wood to start a fire. Remus moved deeper into the forest, likely searching for deer or rabbits. Janus quickly set up the fire, dragging a fallen tree nearby to use as a bench. Just as Janus was starting to wonder what was taking Remus so long, he heard a rustle from behind him. “Finally decide to show up, Remus? Did some sort of poisonous or toxic creature distract you?” He turned around to see someone that was decidedly not Remus.

Crouching in the thick foliage was a child, no older than 6. He had long brown hair and oversized black hoodie. His hair had multiple braids running through it, but it had obviously been several days since they were put in, judging from the multiple twigs and knots that Janus could see. Large brown eyes fearfully stared into Janus’ soul.

Janus slowly moved to sit on the log behind him. It would be better if the child believed he wouldn’t run up and grab him. “Hello, little one.” Janus’ voice was much softer now, and he noticed how the child appeared nervous but didn’t flinch. “My name is Janus. What’s yours?” The child didn’t answer, instead looking over at the decently-sized fire. “Would you like to join me? My partner should be here soon, and he’ll have food for us to cook and eat.” The child glanced between Janus and the fire, seemingly weighing his options. “If it makes you more comfortable, I promise I won’t get off of this log unless absolutely necessary. You needn’t be afraid. Neither my partner nor I would ever harm a child.”

The child weighed his options for a few more moments before stepping forwards. He slowly approached the fire, not taking his eyes off of Janus. Once he was in grabbing range and Janus hadn’t reached out for him, the child’s entire body seemed to relax. Janus watched as the child winced and pulled a stick out of his hair. “Would you like some assistance with that?” The child looked up at Janus, his shoulders tense again. “I could clean and rebraid your hair, if you want me to.” The child stared at him for a few moments before slowly approaching. After a few more minutes of coaxing, the child was soon sitting in Janus’ lap, watching the fire as Janus fixed his hair.

For once, Janus was grateful that the virus killed off kids rather than infecting them. He could bash in the face of a 30-year-old zombie any day (he usually did so daily). But if he had seen this child running after him, bloody and rotting? Janus didn’t know what he would do.

The child winced as Janus pulled out a stubborn stick. “My apologies.” Janus murmured softly. “I’m afraid it’s been many years since I last dealt with long hair.” The child seemed to relax at Janus’ tone, so Janus kept talking. “I’m surprised that you managed to find this campsite, much less approach us. You must be very brave, child.” The child muttered something under his breath. “What did you say?”

“m not brave, ‘m just Virgil.”

Janus smiled softly as he worked on braiding Virgil’s hair. “Well, Virgil. I feel like you’re not seeing what I’m seeing. I see a strong child who faced his fears and did what he had to do to survive. What do you see?”

Virgil started shaking, and it took Janus a moment to realize that he was crying. “They said I couldn’t do anythin’ ‘cause ‘m small.” Janus started to rub the child’s back as he shook more. “I thought I could do it on my own but I can’t! I miss Uncle Lo and his facts. I miss Uncle Ro and his songs. I miss my Papa!”

The child was sobbing by this point. Janus turned Virgil around so he could bury his face in Janus’ chest. Janus rubbed small circles into Virgil’s back as he cried. “There there.” He whispered. “It’s alright. We’ll find your Papa.” Janus did not like to make such claims. He never did so with Remus with his quest to find Roman, so why should he do so with Virgil?

Maybe it was because of the way Virgil relaxed after he’d said it. Maybe it was because Virgil was just a child, and will hopefully forget the promise. Maybe it was because Janus didn’t want this kid to grow up an orphan. But it didn’t matter, because he’d already said it.

Once the kid stopped crying, turned back around so that he continued facing the fire. Janus smiled as Virgil leaned back so that he was laying against Janus’ chest. They stayed like that for several minutes before they heard more rustling from the other side of the fire. Virgil seemed to see the person’s face before Janus did. Instead of burying himself into Janus, like he’d expected, Virgil instead jumped out of Janus’ lap. He quickly ran around the fire, shouting in relief. “Ro! Ro! R- oh.”

Janus kept his eyes on Remus, who was staring at the child with a carefully blank expression. Before he could potentially frighten the child, Janus spoke up. “Virgil, I would like you to meet Remus, my boyfriend. Remus, this is Virgil. I was hoping we could watch over him until he is reunited with his father.”

Remus’ face went through a myriad of emotions before sticking with happy. For once, Janus was grateful for Remus’ obsession with theatre. It made him an amazing actor, after all. “Of course! There’s always room for one more!” He reached down to poke Virgil’s belly, and Janus was surprised to hear the child giggle. Remus stood back up and offered Janus the deer carcass he’d hunted earlier. “Sorry it took so long. I spotted two giant spiders mating in the woods. The female bit off the male’s head!”

Virgil mumbled something as he made his way back to Janus. “What was that, Virgil?”

“...spiders are cool.”

Remus’ smile became less forced. “I’ll take you to see them tomorrow.”

They sat in relative silence as Janus worked to prepare the deer meat. Remus had already drained it, thankfully, so Janus mainly needed to skin it. Janus watched out of the corner of his eye as Virgil attempted to scoot closer to him. “Would you like something, Virgil?”

Virgil seemed surprised that Janus had called him out. “Nothing!”

Janus internally sighed. It would take a while for Virgil to fully come out of his metaphorical shell. “Do you know how to skin a deer, Virgil?” The child shook his head. “Would you like to learn how?”

Virgil suddenly found his shoes extremely interesting. “I’m not allowed to touch knives.”

“I didn’t ask that.” Virgil’s head shot up. “I asked if you wanted to learn how to skin a deer.” Virgil nodded frantically, and Janus barely stopped himself from smirking. “Alright, come closer and I’ll show you how.”

Virgil sat in Janus’ lap as he carefully removed the deer’s skin. After a few minutes of explanation and demonstration, he handed Virgil the knife. He kept his hands on Virgil’s the entire time, and there were luckily no injuries from the experience. They lost a little bit of meat from where Virgil cut too deep, but it wasn’t too bad for his first time with a knife. While Janus cooked the meat, Remus told Virgil whatever stories popped into his mind. Janus was glad that Remus kept the stories PG, and was surprised that Virgil preferred some of Remus’ darker tales.

After a few more hours of eating and storytelling, Virgil let out a yawn. Janus smiled. “Are you tired?” Virgil nodded, his eyes already starting to close. “Then we’ll wake you in the morning. Sleep tight, Virgil.”

Once the two of them were sure that Virgil was asleep, Remus started whispering. “Okay, what the fuck is going on!?”

Janus sighed, making sure to keep his voice down. “From what I’ve gathered, Virgil and his father travel with your brother and a third adult that goes by ‘Lo.’ A few days ago, one of them told Virgil that he couldn’t help them because he’s too young. Wanting to prove them wrong, he ran away and found our fire.”

Remus was in deep concentration. “So Roman IS alive.”

Janus nodded. “Possibly. If he is, than he is most likely nearby, searching for Virgil.”

Remus nodded before looking over at Virgil. “I don’t know why they wouldn’t let him help.”

Janus sighed. “He is rather young, Remus.”

Remus waved him off. “I know, I know. And before all of this shit happened, I would’ve agreed. He’s way too young to handle knives or fire. But we’re not living anymore. We’re surviving. And this kid needs to learn how to survive in case he’s on his own again.”

“And I perfectly agree.” They sat there for another hour as the fire started to dwindle. Remus offered to take first shift, so Janus kissed him goodnight before laying down next to Virgil. And if Janus’ heart melted a bit when Virgil grabbed the front of Janus’ shirt in his sleep?

Well, no one had to know about that, did they?

#sanders sides #AU_gust_2020 #Alternate universe post-apocalypse #dukeceit #Janus Sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #skinning animals #stitches #talk of spiders

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thechangeling · 4 years ago

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Your heartbeat is disguised as mine.

This is a platonic oneshot between my OC Janessa Williams and Kit Herondale. Full disclosure, I am a nonbinary person writing about a binary Trans woman. I pulled all of the information for constructing Nessie's background and character profile from other peoples stories both fictional and real. If I have spread misinformation of any kind or written anything that members of the community find offensive, please let me know! I will fix it immediately. Also I'm a useless Demisexual so sometimes I blur the lines between romantic and platonic too much, but hopefully this reads as platonic. Enjoy!

Janessa Williams was in trouble.

It wasn't like this was an uncommon occurrence. Nessie had spent the majority of her life weaving in and out of dangerous situations, but in her defense it usually wasn't her fault.

Kids picking on her when she was younger because she was wearing "girls clothes." Angry people yelling obscenities at her while she was walking home and men threatening to beat her up in the middle of crowded places when she was still transitioning and looked more "obvious" according to some people. Whatever the fuck that meant. And Nessie knew it probably would have been even worse if she hadn't been white.

She relished in the fact that now she was a vampire she was essentially invincible. Like many other people, becoming a downworlder was a source of safety. Which is why it was so painful to hear shadowhunters talk about how "tragic" the creation of vampires and werewolves was.

There were girls whispering behind her back in high school. Just trying to go to the bathroom without there being some sort of public debate amongst her teachers and principal was also a factor.

Jenessa was certainly no stranger to conflict or adversity. But this? This was something else entirely.

Before she had died. Nessie had actually made a decent connection with other members of her community. Even making casual acquaintances was comforting. The queer community overall could be a bit of a shit show at times. With exclusionists, TERFs and biphobes rampaging about. But getting the chance to talk to other trans people was incredible. Especially Bi trans people like herself. But despite that she still felt as though something was missing.

Janessa still felt distant and isolated despite the fact that she now had everything she wanted. It was like a dark black cloud had plagued her for all of her teenage years. Depression. It wasn't just due to being in the closet or not being able to be her true self. It was just there. Corrupting her brain and dragging her down into despair.

It was that same despair that had lead to her death. And when she was reborn as a member of the undead, at first she hadn't exactly been grateful. But in time she had found her footing. Music, therapy, a new community of downworlders who were diverse, powerful and brilliant. She moved from LA to basically all over with her band. All of these things helped Janessa re shape herself and her new life into something better. Something stronger.

But yet she still felt a little isolated at times. A little incomplete. Like she was waiting for something.

Fuck that sounded so pathetic. But it was true. Or at least it was true until a wayward mess of a shadowhunter had wandered into the bar Nessie and her band played regular gigs at, looking for information on a particular downworlder.

Janessa was not pleased. She knew she needed to get this asshole far away from her and her people.

Kit certainly had other ideas. It would not be the last time they disagreed on something.

But she had noticed something that day. Something in his eyes. That same lost look of despair she recognized in herself. This of course hadn't stopped her from calling him an angelic, inbred, self righteous asshole and he had thrown his head back and laughed.

Despite Nessie's better judgement, she had decided to trust him that day. He had complemented her t shirt which said "In my defense, I was provoked" and her leather jacket which had the trans symbol on the back with the Bisexual flag as the background.

So she had helped Kit with his mission that day, which turned out to be pretty harmless, which then led to hanging out at the park after dark and eating fast food on the balcony of Ciernworth. He asked her questions about her life and her unlife. He asked the questions that she usually got about hormones and discovering her gender identity, and less common questions about becoming a vampire. She in turn asked him questions about his past and his coming out. Her fate was sealed that day. Janessa just didnt want to admit it.

And now, several weeks later that shadowhunter she had chosen to trust was currently sobbing into her arms.

"Kit it's gonna be ok alright? Just take some deep breaths" Janessa cooed. She was running one of her hands through his blond curls, and another along his back attempting to soothe him.

Kit gasped for air against his sobs as he pressed his forehead closer to her neck. "I mean-. Nessie I just-" he gasped, unable to properly get the words out.

Janessa shook her head. "Shhh no it's ok" she reassured him. "Take your time."

It broke her heart to see Kit like this but all she could do was focus on helping him. Not once did it occur to Nessie that she currently had a live human being pressed up against her, viens full of rushing blood.

She rubbed his shoulders. Kit sighed and began to speak in a more calm tone. "It's just that when I gave Magnus the necklace to give to- you know to him, it brought all of those old feelings rushing back you know?"

Janessa sighed. Him was Tiberius Blackthorn. The boy that Kit was hopelessly in love with. The boy that had broken his heart.

Janessa was most certainly not a fan. Anyone who made her friend cry was instantly on her shit list. Nessie was more then a little protective of Kit but she couldn't help it. He was always getting himself into trouble. Like the other day, dealing with the Devon Vampire Clan which Nessie was kind of a part of now that she was living in Devon temporarily. Kit was picking her up from a meeting so they could get Midnight snacks and play video games at her place.

The Devon Clan was really not happy to see a Shadowhunter. They antagonized her over trusting one of the nephilum. They called her a traitor to her own people. Janessa personally thought they were being a little overly dramatic. It led to a fight that most definitely put the accords in jeopardy.

Janessa also discovered that day that she and Kit fought beautifully together. Almost like Parabatai.

Whoah. Where the fuck did that come from.

Janessa heard a light snore from below her. Kit had fallen asleep in her lap. She snorted fondly. The emotional labour of crying must have tired him out. She didn't really blame him for that. As Nessie stared down at him, this shadowhunter who had become so significant to her, she wondered if this was going to end badly for her.

She could hear the words of hundreds of downworlders echoing in her head, including her own. Shadowhunters can't be trusted. Shadowhunters are selfish. Shadowhunters hate downworlders. They don't believe we're worthy of life so why should we be nice to them? Fuck them all.

And all of that was what she firmly believed.

Kit snored again.

Well for the most part.

It wasn't like she was in love with him. That much she knew. The thought of kissing Kit or dating him or anything like that made her quesy. But the idea of holding him while he cried, or laughing at his jokes, or even staying here watching his chest rise and fall and relishing in the fact that yes, he is alive, that sounded perfect.

Janessa scooped her arms under Kit's body and pulled him up off of the floor. "Come on Kit-Kat" she muttered. "Let's get you to bed."

Kit moaned in protest but didn't try to fight her as she pulled him over to her bed. Nessie could only hope that Kit had told his parents where he would be. Kit smiled sleepily at her and opened his eyes.

"You're my best friend you know?" He murmered.

Janessa swallowed down a sob. "Really?" She asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "I've never had a best friend before."

Kit closed his eyes. He was probably nodding off again. "Me neither" he whispered. He probably didnt want to count Ty considering all of the romantic angst.

And in that moment Janessa made a choice. She made the decision to lay down next to him and relax. She made the decision to forgive him for things that were out of his control.

She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. "You're my best friend too ok?" She said softly.

And when she saw the slightest of smiles appear on his face, Janessa made another decision as well.

She let herself love him.

Your heartbeat is disguised as mine.

My lullaby.

The song I used for this fic is Always be together by Little Mix.

#tda #the dark artifices #kit herondale #twp #the wicked powers #tsc #my oc #kaitlin'swriting

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psychcomposer · 4 years ago

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Alright, I have too many feelings about a video game that’s going to come out in a month that I really just need to get out. It’s been over a decade and one of my favorite games, The World Ends With You, is finally getting a sequel. I’ve been brooding on the trailers for months, and I just finished the demo, so it is time to put down my capital T Thoughts on Neo: The World Ends With You.

As a warning, this will be entirely too long. But I’m not about to keep this bound up any longer.

TWEWY is my favorite title for the Nintendo DS. It is a JRPG starring Neku Sakuraba, an aggressively antisocial teen living in the Tokyo district of Shibuya. He is suddenly pulled into a test of survival called The Reaper’s Game, where he is forced to join forces with a partner in order to survive a week of lethal objectives in a sub-planar version of Shibuya. I love the story, its such an honest and interesting take on learning to get outside of your comfort zone. But more than that, it is a game that does so much to put a modern twist on every piece of your typical JRPG. You control two characters at once, Neku with the touch screen and his partner with the control pad, forcing you to split your attention and giving mechanic weight to the idea that Neku can’t survive alone. Armor and weapons are replaced with clothes and outfits, with a character’s ability to wear them restricted not by class but by a character’s bravery. The music list is filled with punk, alt-rock and hip-hop that are a stark contrast to the symphonic tracks of other titles. Battles aren’t random impediments, but fun diversions that sport a robust reward system that encourages players to push their limits.

But even more than that, the most modern thing I appreciate about TWEWY has to be the characters. Neku, Shiki, Beat, and Rhyme all feel like believable teens that grew up in the 2000′s. They bicker, clash, and banter like teens struggling to survive and make sense of their situation. One of my favorite little gimicks of the story is just how many nicknames there are for every character. Almost everyone has earned a few nicknames. One of my favorite examples is Sho Minamimoto. He’s a reaper with an obsession with math, often infusing his speech with mathematical jargon or expressions, and seems to enjoy erecting “art installations”, which most people can only decipher as towers of trash. Over the course of the story, he gets called Pi-face, the Grim Heaper, and another nickname I can’t even mention because of spoilers. It’s just... such a nice little human touch, these kids throwing crafted insults at a human enforcer of their doom that could almost certainly tear them apart.

I’m getting into this to try to give a sense of why I enjoy TWEWY so much, why it has such a unique place in my heart. Its a game I’ve 100% completed several times over, a task that’s no easy feat with the sheer amount of collectibles and post-game objectives. Unfortunately, for the last year or two, I’ve been kind of dreading this sequel.

Neo:TWEWY has been... a long time coming. Way back in 2007 they had a whole website counting down to some sort of announcement, with the music slowly building in intensity. I remember following it with bated breath, until it finally hit zero! And we got... An ios port of the game. Talk about a let-down. To be fair, apparently it is a solid port, even managing to re-work the old battle system, one that required a second screen to work properly, into one that only needed one. But what that really offered to someone like me was the hint of a sequel, a single image of a new character being shown. They kept flirting with the idea of bringing the series back. The main cast even featured in a Kingdom Hearts game, of all things, even if they didn’t really do a whole lot. But these acknowledgments grew sparser and sparser.

A few years ago, they released a switch port of the game. Not only that, it included an epilogue! They were finally getting a sequel rolling! Of course I bought that game, beat it yet again, and fought my way to the new content and the hint of the new story ahead.

It was... Well. I found it disappointing.

The gameplay was competent, even if it was clear that the epilogue itself really hadn’t had too much put into it. One new character, new enemies just being reskins of old ones. It wasn’t meant to be dlc itself or anything, it was just there to herald a return to the series. That wasn’t what bugged me. What bugged me was the writing. It was heart-wrenching. It just didn’t feel right. It just felt flat compared to the story I’d enjoyed so many times. But what really killed my excitement was the new character, Coco.

Now, odd personality quirks are not too unusual among the ensemble of TWEWY. Pi-face is just one of the characters that is so infused with a particular theme that it shows in how they express themselves. It’s part of the charm of them, discovering the personalities that live in this dark underworld of Shibuya. But Coco... she talks like the most stereotypical young teenager possible. unironic lols, totez (yes, spelt exactly like that, in a speech format), OMG’s, and just, like, likes everywhere! It felt like someone who knew they needed to make a quirky character but had no idea how to write one well, and just made the most stereotypical caricature possible. I hated seeing that. It embodied every fear I had about the sequel being just a cynical project, pushed forward after so many years by people who just didn’t understand what made the original great. That mild dread was so persistent that even the release of the first few trailers couldn’t really get me excited for the game. Neo:TWEWY was shifting into 3d from the original 2.5d, with all the problems that could cause. What I could see of the story felt so much more like a generic fantasy tale with some modern buildings than the story I had grown through my teenage years with. And, well... Just look the original Neku and the new one they showed off.

Look at this. Look at one of the most vibrant, eye-catching character designs on the market for any JRPG in history, one that manages to mix purple and orange with striking lights and darks. And then look at the teenager edgelord bullshit they did with him. It’s atrocious. I hate it. He’s just another guy in a black outfit and just too much fucking cool guy protagonist power to not have the story be about him at this point. And look, I know that there’s Story LoreTM, I know that there could be some twist that explains this, I know that him being such a denial of his old self could be the entire fucking point. But let me tell you, when I saw this, I felt years of shifting, misplaced unease coalesce into a hard lump of dread.

And... Even... So... I did the stupidest thing I could have possibly done and preordered the game anyway. Don’t look at me like that, nostalgia is a hell of a drug.

But you know what? The damnedest thing happened. They released a demo for the new game a month before its release. And I played it, and... I enjoyed it.

Did you see that coming? I certainly didn’t. Welcome to the roller coaster.

Right off the bat, the writing soothed a lot of the fears I had. It felt right at home, like being plopped between to teens exchanging banter. One of the first exchanges is Rindo and Fret, his best friend, trying to meet up. Fret wants Rindo to meet him at someplace called Wunafo, an area Rindo is clueless about. After some annoyed texting, it turns out Fret is actually referring to 104, a local landmark of a building. Fret insists that its a stylish improvement on the name. Rindo only gives him some grief about it..

I’m not doing the scene justice, or I could just be really desperate for half-decent writing, but I can’t deny that it quickly put a smile on my face. I am almost sure I’ve had this conversation before in years past myself. And beyond that, this game boasts voice acting that brings out a ton of personality in the large cast they are introducing (besides Rindo, which is a shame because he’s the protagonist... hopefully he gets over his apathetic teenager shtick eventually). Not everything is voiced, but it conveys so much appeal and personality, and even when the character’s aren’t voiced there is a conversation screen that occasionally breaks out some stylish layouts to convey mood and temperment and clearly draw from the style that made the original game pop so much.

The battles, of course, have been completely revamped. TWEWY had you control two characters, one of which you could customize by equipping up to 6 different pins that all used different motions and unleashed different attacks. Now you control up to four characters, but each one can only use one pin. But even so, it feels very genuine to its roots. An effective build in TWEWY was usually one that let you stagger an opponent so you can unload a bunch of attacks on them, and in Neo:TWEWY the game actively pushes you to folllow up attacks with characters in succession. It would be easy for this to devolve into a mash-fest, but even with the little time I had with the game it introduced a wrinkle in that- an attack that unleashed a single powerful blow, but couldn’t just be unleashed at the end of the previous combo. It needed to be charged for a while, long enough for the combo timer to deplete. So now an effective combo requires thinking ahead, and even after that you’re paying attention to enemies to dodge out of the way when they strike back. It’s entirely possible this system will flop in the late game, but so far it is robust enough for me to think that it will be one that could make me look forward to battles.

The music hasn’t impressed me so far, besides the tracks that have made the transition from the original. But I remember those strange tracks needing some time before I appreciated them too.

Finally, the story has hooked me. I don’t think that needs much more explanation. I want to see more of these characters and see the changes that have been made to the world in what I assume is years after Neku’s game. And to address the elephant in the room, Neku has not made his appearance in what is available in the demo. Odds are I will probably hate whatever they do with him. But there is enough happening in the space around it that I’m interested in exploring, and a bruised apple can still taste sweet.

Almost all of this, of course, is mostly just saying that Neo:TWEWY is not doomed to fail. There is still plenty of room for things to go wrong later on. There are entire systems I haven’t really seen in game, like shops, pin evolution, clothing and food (Though it looks like they have changed the food system significantly, which I approve of). The things that unnerved me so much in the trickle of information after this game’s announcement could still be enough to turn this sour. But I’m smiling as I’m strapping myself in for this ride now, one I’ve waited quite a long time for. Whatever’s coming, I’m excited.

#long post #TWEWY #Neo:TWEWY #The World Ends With You #Neo: The World Ends With You #Sorry for the length but #look this isn't even all the thoughts I have on this upcoming game #but I'm not sure if any of my followers even care about these games sooo #the original examination of the new stuff and a sequel compare/contrast kind of got lost when I got into my history with this series #but I like how this turned out #even if its just for me

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flowerfan2 · 5 years ago

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Private Time - Chapter Two

Klaine, M, 4k, A03. Summary: One thing about being in quarantine with your grad school roommates... you hardly get any private time...

Wow, the reaction to this fic has blown me away. Thank you so much to everyone who reblogged and commented. It’s wonderful to feel the Klaine love.

And since you asked so nicely, here is chapter two!

Chapter 2

Kurt Hummel prides himself on being able to survive just about anything, from small town bigots to drama school divas. But this quarantine thing is really getting to him.

It’s not that he has any problems with his roommates, far from it. He’s known Rachel since high school, and his fondness for her more than balances his aggravation. Sweet and goofy Sam became part of their trio of friends last year when Kurt had thought about starting a band, and Sam had shown up at the audition. While the band didn’t take off, Kurt will never forget Sam’s rendition of “Nothing On But The Radio.” Priceless.

But then there’s Blaine. Even thinking about the guy makes Kurt go weak in the knees. It’s not like Kurt to be so affected by a pretty face, even one peeking out from under wet curls as he scoots down the hall after his evening shower with just a towel wrapped low around his hips. Kurt prides himself on his restraint when it comes to opening up to the possibility of romance, but with Blaine, it has been a challenge.

It started with that damn a capella benefit Rachel dragged him to. As if he needed to spend an evening watching preppy kids grinning at each other while they sang poorly re-arranged pop tunes. “It’s for a good cause, Kurt,” Rachel had argued. “And it’s not just the college groups. Everyone at the university can participate. I would be performing, too, if I wasn’t saving my voice.”

And so an hour into a dreadfully dull evening of twenty-somethings trying to relive their high school musical glory days, Kurt had his first experience of nearly losing his mind over Blaine Anderson. Amidst a sea of mediocrity, Blaine came on stage and performed Sondheim’s Not While I’m Around without accompaniment. Kurt felt like he was coming apart. He was so wrecked that he left the theater immediately after Blaine’s performance and spent the rest of the evening stalking around campus, furious with himself for losing his cool.

That night while his roommates were still out, Kurt indulged himself in a way he hadn’t done in ages. First a lavender scented bubble bath, then a long solo session in between fresh, clean sheets. It was okay to fantasize about Blaine Anderson, he was just a guy on a stage, Kurt didn’t know him from Adam (and he was way, way hotter than Adam with or without his Apples). Kurt found himself humming “nothing’s gonna harm you, no sir” halfway through and didn’t even censor himself, reveling in the thought that his fantasy Blaine would protect him from all the demons of the world.

After that, Kurt felt like he saw the guy everywhere – ducking out of the campus coffee shop, running in the early morning chill, giving Sam a warm hug before they parted ways after class. Kurt had sort of known that Sam was bringing Blaine to see his performance of Macbeth, but had managed to block it out until afterwards, when Sam trotted backstage with Blaine on his heels. Blaine’s shy smile and soft blush when he offered Kurt his congratulations had rendered him nearly speechless.

And then the unthinkable happened. They had held off on finding a fourth person to share the rent for several months, mostly because Rachel thought that sharing their single decent shower with two guys was as much as she could stand, but money was tight for all of them and it seemed silly to let the room stay empty. Before they had even had a chance to advertise the vacancy Sam came home one afternoon with Blaine, announced that he had found them a perfect flatmate, and started giving Blaine the tour. Kurt had nearly choked on his skinny margarita.

There wasn’t much time to dwell on his crush before the quarantine, but now, Blaine is everywhere. Kurt tries to count how many different black polo shirts the man has, just to prove himself he could look but still retain a modicum of brain power, but he fails miserably. Instead his eyes keep sliding down to where Blaine shirt’s is tucked around his slender waist, just before his red pants curve over the best ass Kurt has ever seen.

When Rachel announces her private time plan Kurt immediately knows what she is up to. If Sam and Blaine knew her better, they would have caught on faster as well – since when did Rachel Berry mind if anyone heard her sing? It’s a lame cover-up, but before Kurt can open his mouth and say so, he realizes how useful Rachel’s plan could be. So he stands up, smooths his hands down over his pants, and high-tails it upstairs to the privacy of his room before his pants get even tighter.

That first night, Kurt doesn’t have any intention of participating. He’s feeling rather superior, if he is honest with himself. Suddenly randy Rachel and lack of self-control Sam may be taking care of business, but Kurt Hummel doesn’t need any of that. He puts on his headphones, pulls out an old voice lesson journal, and goes through some exercises himself. Rachel may have been joking about the need for private rehearsal time, but Kurt is nothing if not career focused, and he hasn’t had much of an opportunity for honing his craft lately either.

After he finishes the exercises in his journal, Kurt gets out his phone and some earbuds – he’s got some vocal tracks on his phone which split the parts, the lead coming through on one side and the harmony parts on the other. Just as he’s finding the track he wants to start on and fiddling with the left earbud, which for some unknowable reason keeps falling out of his ear, he hears a long, low moan.

Kurt freezes, earbud dangling from his hand. It’s Blaine, that much is obvious from the direction of the sound, and from the fact that it seems to be coming from right next to him, where only a wall divides his room from Blaine’s. Somehow that one drawn-out expression of need has shot right through him, sparking through his entire body. Kurt feels light-headed and almost forgets to breathe.

Overwhelmed, Kurt panics. He scrambles to grab the noise-cancelling headphones and clamp them over his ears, and dives under his duvet. It’s too much, and it’s inappropriate to think about, but at the same time it’s impossible not to imagine. It’s Blaine, with his hand on his private parts, making that incredibly sexy noise just a few feet away from Kurt. Kurt is never going to make it through this quarantine.

By the next morning Kurt has regained his equilibrium. He spends most of the day firmly (but not firmly, Kurt thinks, bad word choice, sternly, yes, very sternly, god that’s hardly better, hardly, stop it, I’m dying, I’m being slain by my own internal monologue) telling himself that he is not going to participate any further in Rachel’s ridiculous plan. Tomorrow, their next scheduled private time night, Kurt will simply go for a walk. Walking is good for him, he could use the exercise and fresh air, and he doesn’t do it nearly as much as he should. He’ll even wear the new mask he made from a Prada dust bag (there’s no need to abandon style, just because there’s a pandemic).

But on Thursday night when he tells Rachel he’s going out she cackles at him like she’s auditioning for the Wicked Witch of the West, and points with a shaking finger to the window. It’s raining, a veritable deluge. Kurt growls at her and goes upstairs.

Fine. It’s all fine. He can do this. It’s nothing to feel shameful about, even if everyone in the house knows he’s doing it. They’re all doing it too.

Kurt lights a candle (sandalwood), finds some of the expensive body lotion he saves for special occasions, and makes himself comfortable. Soon his thoughts are wandering to how a certain someone looked this morning, sitting out on the back porch with Sam. They had both been fooling around on their guitars, and Sam was teasing Blaine about how his hair kept falling into his eyes. Sam had even reached out and pushed an errant, gel-free curl away from Blaine’s face…

That should have been Kurt. He would have waited until Blaine finished playing a gentle love song (“the things you do endear me to you, ah you know I will… I will”) and looked up expectantly at him, a hesitant smile on his face. Kurt would have leaned close to Blaine, seeing his long lashes flutter as he softly pressed his palm to Blaine’s smooth cheek. Kurt would have threaded his fingers through Blaine’s dark hair, and they would have laughed together, barely audible to anyone else, and then Kurt would have pulled Blaine in for a breathtaking, awe-inspiring first kiss.

Kurt climaxes with an unexpected grunt, and then presses his face into his pillow. That was embarrassingly fast, even for a fantasy. He’s going to have to do better. At least he needs to get to the part where he can grab Blaine’s ass in his hands and give it a good squeeze. Who knows what kind of noises Blaine might make when his ass is fondled just right. Kurt might even have to think about sliding those tight red pants down over Blaine’s luscious curves, moving his hands up and down and around, letting his fingers explore and press in…

Kurt realizes he’s getting hard again, and much to his dismay, he soon goes for round two like a horny teenager.

It rains all day on Friday, and Saturday morning is equally gloomy, ruining their plans to make lunch and take it to campus for an appropriately socially distant picnic. Sam comes up with an alternate plan that involves bartering for a packet of yeast (the sister of one of his rugby mates thought ahead and purchased large quantities from a restaurant supply store) and making homemade bread, and Blaine sunnily agrees to bike to the other side of town to pick it up. Kurt volunteers some of his masks to use as a trade, and by noon, they are all assembled in the kitchen, ready to start their day’s project.

Kurt has made bread a million times (okay, maybe just two or three), so they all look to him for guidance. It turns out to be way more fun than Kurt had expected, even more so when he keeps catching Blaine looking at him shyly from under those ridiculously long lashes. When they all start giggling at the mess they’ve made and Blaine reaches out and tries to wipe flour off of Kurt’s nose, Kurt thinks he’s never been happier.

That night they eat their bread with the remains of various cheeses and drink more wine than Kurt had thought they had left in the house. He’s feeling loose and safe in his skin when Blaine flops down on the couch next to him, holding out a bowl of strawberries. “These go great with the bread,” Blaine says, which is what they’ve been saying about everything they have eaten that night.

Kurt doesn’t argue and pops a strawberry in his mouth. “Yeah, they do.”

Blaine focuses his big brown eyes on Kurt, and then leans in and draws his finger just along the edge of Kurt’s mouth, making him shiver.

“Powdered sugar,” Blaine explains, and then shuffles even closer to Kurt on the couch. It’s like he’d done earlier today, but this time his voice comes out in a caramel draped baritone. “You’ve got a little here, too.” Blaine touches a fingertip to Kurt’s cheek, and then then blushes furiously and lets his hand drop.

Kurt can’t resist, Blaine is simply too enticing. Blaine’s done all the hard work anyway, his blush speaking as eloquently as any Shakespeare sonnet. “I think you’ve still got flour in your hair,” Kurt says, reaching out and twining a curl around his finger. It’s just as soft as he imagined, and Blaine lets out a little sigh in response and leans his head into the touch.

Kurt takes a deep breath, his whole body trembling. Blaine’s eyes rise to meet his, and Kurt cups Blaine’s cheek and pulls Blaine in for a kiss.

It’s better than his fantasy, of course it is. Blaine tastes of strawberries and wine, his stubble scrapes ever so gently against Kurt’s skin, and he’s warm and alive under Kurt’s hand. They move closer on the couch, knees and thighs and shoulders pressing against each other. Blaine’s tongue darts out to trace Kurt’s lips, and then Kurt opens his mouth and the kiss deepens, harder and gentler in turns, until Kurt forgets that anything else exists in the world except for this.

When they finally part, breathless and wide eyed, Rachel and Sam have disappeared. Kurt glances at the clock on the wall and sees that it’s after eleven. Blaine’s glance follows his, and then he beams at Kurt, a mischievous look dancing in his eyes.

“It’s private time,” Blaine says, and Kurt blinks at him, momentarily confused. The earnest expression on Blaine’s face sure doesn’t look like he’s interesting in putting an end to their not-so-solo activities, and either does the hand he’s holding out to Kurt.

“Care to accompany me?”

#klaine #klaine fic #glee #glee fic #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #my fic

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 5 years ago

Text

Shackled

Chapter 1

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

Warning: Implied loss of family, grieving, depression, cursing, Demon!Dean, Sam’s tendency to leave out vital details for folks helping him to save Dean (read: Sam’s tendency to be a Winchester)

Word count: 1,895

Author’s Note: This story would not be possible without @thoughtslikeaminefield , who convinced me to write and finish this story, cheered me on every step of the way, and convinced me that even after over a year of not finishing a single thing, I hadn’t lost my writing after all. MJ, thank you for poking the story til it squeaked. And for the banner. And lots and lots of other things. If you’re reading this, hi! Have a seat and strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride (in the best way!).

“Hey, Miriam, it’s Sam...Sam Winchester...I don’t know if you remember me from-”

“I remember you, Sam. Not likely to forget a Winchester, much less...it’s one in the morning, what’s up?”

“I need to call in that favor.”

“All right. Where do you need me?”

…

Miriam stared blearily at the road as it stretched out in an infinite blur of dismal sameness, each expanse of asphalt and surrounding fields a dreary replica of the one before.

The last couple hundred or so miles had been hypnotically wretched, especially with the remnants of her headache hanging on by the tips of its claws since Sam Winchester had woken her with a phone call a few hours ago.

Caffeine and aspirin had taken the edges off, but straining her eyes into the endless darkness, alternating occasionally with too-bright headlights shattering the night (fucking halogens), had done nothing to ease the sharp ache that wouldn’t quite dissipate.

If she was being honest, the headache had been hanging around much longer than just a few hours, and if Sam’s call hadn’t woken her, the nightmares would have. They always did. She couldn’t really remember what an uninterrupted night of sleep felt like anymore. Exhaustion was her state of existence; it was preferable to feeling anything else.

“Suck it up, Miri,” she muttered into the muffled quiet of the car. Even her GPS was set on silent; the soft hum of the engine was the only noise she allowed to permeate her cocoon of quiet suffering.

Aaron would have been blasting some stupid metal band on the stereo, slapping her hand away every time she went to turn it down or change the station. He wouldn’t offer to drive and let her sleep off any physical maladies, but she wouldn’t have accepted anyway. He was a shit driver, and she always said she’d rather live long enough to let the next case kill her rather than the inevitable wreck if her brother was behind the wheel.

“Suck it up, Miri! Take another pill and quit whining!” he would have told her in the middle of an air drum solo.

Would have.

“Shut up,” Miriam muttered aloud. She drove on.

She pulled up outside something she would have dismissed as public waterworks or an electric station if Sam hadn’t told her what to look for. No cars outside, no mailbox, nothing to tell her this was an actual residence and not the setting for a seventies slaughterhouse flick. She checked her phone.

Text me when you get here; I’ll come let you in.

Alrighty, then.

Sam met her at the door and led her into the last sort of place Miriam could have imagined, a cross between a sci-fi/post-apocalypse novel and some sort of Cold War relic. He gave her the briefest of explanations as he led her through the bunker, saying something about legacies and a secret society, information which mostly passed right through her fatigue-addled head.

Pretty nice home base, she thought as they walked through the meeting room and past the library.

The research-oriented part of her itched to run her fingers over the spines of those books, to find out what was inside. Miriam cringed internally as she heard the echo of Aaron’s voice calling her a nerd, equal parts affection and ridicule in his voice. Then she throttled the pain down, locked the thoughts away, and dragged herself back to the present.

A few minutes later, Miriam was slinging her duffel down on one of the nicest beds she’d been able to claim in any capacity in months, maybe even years. Absolutely spartan and about six decades out of date, almost military in decor, but it was clean, and it had air, electricity, and both sheets and blankets on the bed. No nasty or rotten surprises left by former inhabitants; definitely an upgrade on a few of the shitholes she’d stayed in.

“We’ve got a fully stocked kitchen just down the hallway, and showers. Let me know if you need anything,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his head.

Miriam decided to save him further discomfort and cut to the chase.

“Fancy digs, Sam. It’s been a few years. You wanna tell me what’s got you so bothered?”

She’d noticed a distinct lack of the elder Winchester on the way in, but Miriam’s own recent history had done nothing if not jam a filter firmly in her mouth that kept her from sharing any and all thoughts that flowed through her mind.

Sam’s mouth quivered at the corners before he schooled his features into a mask of control that failed to hide the depth of his worry.

“I...Dean is why I called you. It’s...complicated.”

She took advantage of the awkward pause to re-evaluate Sam Winchester. He’d aged a lot in the few years since she and Aaron had run across the Winchesters. He’d grown broader since she last saw him, and he gave the impression of being even taller than she remembered, to say nothing of the length of his hair. She resisted the urge to offer him a hair tie for his shaggy mane.

Her gaze flicked down to his injured right arm, bound to his chest in a sling. She waited for several beats, but when he didn’t continue, she crossed her arms sternly, letting a shade of her impatience show on her face.

“You called me, Sam.”

Sam cleared his throat as if he still couldn’t get the words out. Miriam sighed. Her headache flared, burning the inside of her skull like a wash of acid between her eyes. Fatigue pulled at her, weighing her down towards the bed, but she locked her knees and straightened her back until she could trust her weary body not to betray her to gravity.

“Sam, we’re not close friends, I get that, but you called me here because I owe you, and hopefully because you know you can count on me. I haven’t been in the field recently, wasn’t planning on it any time soon. I’m tired; it’s been a hell of a year. If you want my help, talk to me. If not, I’m taking advantage of your hospitality to catch a few hours sleep in a decent bed, then I’ll head back out.”

“Dean’s a demon.”

His bald declaration woke her as the coffee she’d consumed after his phone call hadn’t.

Wasn’t expecting that, she thought as her eyebrows threatened to meet her hairline.

“Demons aren’t my area of expertise, Sam. And, let’s be honest, it’s fairly common knowledge that the Winchesters can exorcise a demon. What do you need me for?”

Sam shook his head, tension making the movement jerky and stiff as his jaw tightened. He had circles under his eyes to rival hers, and his shoulders slumped with a weight she knew all too well.

He reached up, awkwardly tugging down the neckline of his shirt to reveal a tattooed symbol she vaguely recalled from research she’d done years ago.

“Neither of us can be possessed,” he said, shrugging his shirt back into place with a wince of discomfort. “Dean is...Look, just come with me; I need to check on him anyway. You'll see.”

Making a physical effort to keep her jaw from hanging slack, Miriam followed Sam from the small bedroom. The whole situation was surreal, and the bland, institutional walls of the bunker only added to Miriam’s sense of dissociation.

She raised a curious eyebrow as Sam led her into what looked like nothing so much as a large file storage room.

Their footsteps echoed strangely; the space felt somehow emptier than the full shelves should have allowed. The ceiling, higher than what seemed necessary, continued much further back than the shelves. And what kind of shelving needed caging to connect it to the ceiling? The metal screen wasn’t what drew her attention, though.

The second she set foot in the room, Miriam felt an inexplicable pull to look behind those shelves, to push past Sam and shove the files out of the way. There was a presence in the room, something that spoke to a place deep inside her that she’d trained herself not to acknowledge, something familiar and forbidden all at once.

For the first time in months, she felt something more than tired, foggy despair.

Whatever was back there, Miriam wanted it.

It took her a second to realize that Sam was speaking.

“Don’t...um...don’t let him get to you, okay? It’s Dean, but it...isn’t,” Sam finished lamely with a grimace.

Miriam tilted her head to the side, considering his words. She opened her mouth, then closed it and shrugged, bracing herself for whatever it was Sam didn’t seem to be able to explain.

His shoulders slumped for a moment as he struggled to pull himself together.

Miriam hadn’t spent much time with the Winchesters, just the couple of weeks they'd worked that witch case all those years ago. Sam and Dean had been so in tune with each other, working the case with instinct and skill on a level that she’d both admired and envied. Then they went and saved her stupid brother.

Sam had been so much younger, then, not exactly sure of himself, but much more solid and in control than the tired, injured man in front of her.

“I owe you, and I mean it,” she’d said back then, shaking first Dean’s and then Sam’s hands, looking each brother in the eyes.

“You need someone to watch your back, to help you take something down, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t normally speak for that asshole,” she nodded at her younger brother, currently sleeping off the leftover ill effects from the hex bag that had nearly taken his life, “but I’ll go ahead and vouch for his dumb ass, too. Call me if you need me. Don’t lose my number.”

She hadn’t heard from them since.

Oh, she had heard plenty of them. What hunter hadn’t? All sorts of misadventures and exploits, taking down creatures most hunters had only ever heard of, much less encountered. But Miriam had gotten no phone calls from them, no requests for help. She figured they'd probably forgotten her and Aaron the moment they’d left town, rock blasting from the speakers of their legendary Impala as they cruised on to the next town, the next case.

“Why now, Sam?” Miriam asked quietly. “After all this time, why call me now?”

There were approximately a thousand more questions she wanted to ask, chiefly what the cage behind those shelves was holding, but she held her tongue after the one. Sam had obviously brought her here for a reason, so she reminded herself to be patient and ready for whatever happened next.

The younger Winchester hung his head for a moment longer, then turned eyes on her that were so familiar, her heart seized in her chest. She saw those same eyes every time she’d looked at her own reflection in the mirror since she’d returned from that last job, with one more scar and one less brother.

“Because I knew you’d understand.”

And then Sam straightened, and she watched as he willed steel through his limbs, stiffening his spine and hardening his features. He pulled on a narrow section of shelving and rolled it out of the way.

“Heya, Sammy.”

...

Chapter 2 is up!

#demon dean #demon!dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #demon

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polaristranslations · 4 years ago

Text

The Third Box

■ ■

Kurokami Maguro.

That was the name of the brother two years older than me, Kurokami Medaka, but it would end up being quite a long story for me to speak of him properly. It would be long and dense, going into the minutest of elaborate details. Indeed, Kurokami Maguro was one that was hard to cover in just one or two days—not that I would be able to spend one or two days continuously talking to you in the first place.

I'm sure you don't have that kind of free time, either.

Rather, without even needing to spend a whole day's worth of time trying to explain him—Torai Kudaki, from your standpoint, you should already be aware of his name and several things about him. Even if you don't know about him as a brother to me, you should still know about him as a person.

Because, while he's no longer enrolled now, last year he was still a full-fledged second-year student here at Hakoniwa Academy, back when you joined as a first-year.

And he was one of the "Thirteen Party" involved in the Flask Plan—as the one who attended Hakoniwa Academy while supervising the Flask Plan, he should be pretty well-known to you.

What?

You've heard his name before, but you don't really know the details?

So that means you're not aware of Kurokami Maguro as a student of Hakoniwa Academy, nor are you aware of Kurokami Maguro as the manager of Hakoniwa Academy's old school building, "Ghost Babel", which he became after he dropped out.

Hmm.

That's a little unexpected.

As his sister, I always thought he was a bit of a conspicuous brother, but perhaps he doesn't stand out as much when he mixes in with the crowd—no, that might not be it either. It would simply be a matter of course that I didn't know about the parts of Kurokami Maguro that I didn't know.

That man—who I would define as someone unable to fit in with society and someone who always stood out no matter what they did—could have actually lived out a normal student life, completely beyond my expectations. At the very least, to the point that he was able to slip through your field of vision, Torai Kudaki.

To the point that he could fool people.

He could have actually lived out a decent student life.

What might my brother have been doing without me knowing?

I wasn't aware at all.

That was true for him at Hakoniwa Academy, and perhaps that was true for the Kurokami family—and it was true for Hakobune Middle School as well.

I just hadn't been aware.

Despite being his sister, even though I was his sister, I just didn't know anything.

What my brother did at that school, what he did under President Kumagawa as a member of the 66th Generation Student Council Executive Committee—I had had no clue.

Not an inkling.

I—had known nothing.

Secretary Kurokami Maguro.

My brother.

My older brother.

Before describing the activities of Hakobune Middle School's 66th Generation Student Council Executive Committee, before describing the movements of Hakobune Middle School's 66th Generation Student Council Executive Committee, I must first introduce him.

■ ■

Of course, even in the present, it's not like I know enough about Kurokami Maguro to the point of introducing him. And not in the past tense but in the present tense, or even the present progressive tense. If I had to sort everyone into people I knew and people I didn't know, then even now, that man would belong with the people I didn't know—well, of course, that's just a figure of speech, because obviously I know him, being my brother and all, plus the fact that he helped out so much when I was performing my Student Council duties here at Hakoniwa Academy. What I didn't understand would be, well—you would think there would be limits to one's impropriety, right? That's one thing. But beyond that.

He was an enigma.

A bottomless enigma.

To put it more commonly—he just didn't make sense.

I've said before that one or two days wouldn't be enough once I got started discussing him, and for Kurokami Maguro, coming from his sister, I felt these apprehensions that, no matter how many words I used to describe him, they would end up veering away from the truth. In other words, I was apprehensive that it wouldn't just be a huge time sink, but it would also end with me spouting complete nonsense.

It could just end with me slandering him, or at least making meaningless complaints—and I'm sure that you wouldn't want to hear that either, that it would just be a bother for you. What you want to hear, in the end, is about my days in middle school—specifically, the relationship between me and Kumagawa Misogi in our middle school days.

However, on top of that, even if you take into account the halfheartedness of my information, we still won't be able to get through this without me speaking of Kurokami Maguro. That's how much of a key person he is, an important character in this story.

Although, I have to say it seems hard to believe that now—since the current Kurokami Maguro is the kind of person that dislikes taking center stage the way he did in the past.

No, that personality of his, where he loves to devote himself to working behind the scenes, was something he still had back then—that's how he was able to grow the Kurokami Group from one of Japan's top corporations into one of the world's top corporations.

As for his position at the head of supervising the Flask Plan—well, in the first place, the Flask Plan itself could be said to be coming from the underbelly of Hakoniwa Academy. So it's really just his record at Hakobune Middle School, where he worked as a member of the Student Council Executive Committee, that was an exception for Kurokami Maguro.

But why?

Why did my brother, at that time, take center stage? Did he consider it a good thing?

You can consider this important information, and perhaps even foreshadowing, for when I speak of the record of activities of Hakobune Middle School's Student Council Executive Committee up until that summer break—so don't assume it's not important and forget.

The reason I'm telling you this distasteful story—this story where, the more I speak, the more down I feel—is because, Torai Kudaki, I believe that you are fundamentally approaching this sincerely. And you shouldn't forget that.

So at the very least, don't nod off on me—well, I'm only joking about that.

Don't get mad at me for that. You sure are a serious person—well, but actually, I may have been like that as well, back in my first year of middle school. In particular, with a brother that possessed a frivolous behavior and a facetious attitude in front of me, it felt like I was always getting mad.

I figure people like Zenkichi will tell me that I'm still like that—and from his point of view, it may look like the relationship between me and my brother has hardly changed—but, being the very person in question, I would say it's not like that at all.

Putting aside how my personality may have changed—that brother of mine has definitely mellowed out a bit compared to his time in middle school. And I'm sure Zenkichi would agree with me on this—since he had been a victim of my brother's strictness quite a few times in middle school.

As for what could have led to my brother's mellowing out, we can speak of that at another opportunity, but for now, let us discuss my brother from before he mellowed out—Kurokami Maguro, when he was still working hard as an active student, standing out exceptionally at center stage.

If I recall correctly, my brother was far more active as a key figure among the people of the Kurokami Group during this period of his as a third year in middle school—in my case, when using the term "golden age" to define my first year in middle school, it may be possible to object to that idea, but for my brother, it is quite undeniable that his golden age was his third year in middle school.

When he was together with Kumagawa Misogi.

It was surely that time.

Which was why I often got mad at him.

And he was on the receiving end of my anger quite often—but not once did he endure my anger, nor did he respond to it.[?]

Both at school, and at home.

In the end, until everything was over and I left home—and even after I left, and even up to right now—I don't think there's been even one moment where my brother and I properly understood each other, and properly communicated with each other.

Kurokami Maguro.

What exactly could he be thinking?

■ ■

By the way, Torai Kudaki.

Do you have any siblings? A brother or a sister, either is fine—so you have an older sister and a younger brother? I see. Your sister is in college while your brother is in elementary school—well, the reason I asked this was because I wanted to hear your understanding of sibling relations.

As I've already mentioned, I couldn't say that I'd been on good terms with my brother—and I probably can't say it even now. It's not exactly that we're unfriendly with each other, but I can't deny that we fail to reach each other in the same way we reach other people.

That's why, Torai Kudaki, if you simply told me that all sibling relations are basically like that, then it would really put my mind at ease—oh, but you get along, do you?

Your sister likes to dote on you, and you find your brother cute?

Splendid.

Then, as I suspected, that would mean my relationship with my brother is not exactly a common one—although it's not exactly shocking to hear that now.

"Wouldn't it be better if you just refused now, Medaka-chan?"

said Zenkichi.

"After all, Medaka-chan, if you'd already known that Maguro-san was enrolled in the Student Council Executive Committee, you woulda refused from the start, right? Seems kinda like a scam, if you ask me."

It wasn't like Zenkichi, my childhood friend, wasn't aware that I was on bad terms with my brother, which is probably how he was able to think it out and say what he did. Rather, the fact that he was my childhood friend more or less meant that he was also my brother's childhood friend—so he himself was well aware of who Kurokami Maguro was.

By the way, my brother had only been strict with us in middle school, and when we were younger we simply played together a lot normally—the three of us, me and my brother and Zenkichi, would often play by climbing the jungle gym.

I wonder if that jungle gym is still there now?

I remember fitting all three of us on a swing set, too. Although we'd never be able to do that now.

Yep, the three of us just played together normally.

If there was something that could have caused a rift between me and my brother, then it would be—

"Y'know, about Maguro-san. He's changed since he got into middle school, don't you think? Like, he got weirdly serious all of a sudden. Well, I guess it would be a bit before he got into middle school? Maybe it was when he started helping out with the family business—"

I thought it was unusual to describe management of the Kurokami Group as the family business, but regardless, what Zenkichi said wasn't that far off the mark. However, entering middle school or helping out with the family business—that is, helping out with operations in the Kurokami Group—those could really just be considered indicators on a timeline, or easy-to-understand checkpoints, or simple landmarks. But they weren't the cause of such a change.

The reason my brother changed—or rather.

The reason my brother became bent out of shape—would be something Zenkichi didn't know about, in other words, family matters. It would be a few more years until Zenkichi learned about those family matters, or basically, it was this year.

Zenkichi's a guy with some pretty bad timing.

"—Well, it could just be that he's gotten busy with lots of things. I guess even if we were childhood friends, once we end up in different school years, it's hard to keep being close, huh. No matter how I see it, it's gotta be more fun with people in the same year."

It seemed Zenkichi had convinced himself with that reasoning.

Of course, that probably wasn't wrong, either. It might feel a bit shallow to reason that he was like that because he was doing business with adults, but if you considered that Kurokami Maguro at the time was working together with a boy named Kumagawa Misogi, then that reasoning could actually be pretty profound.

Or even deep-rooted.

"My brother's in the Student Council... I don't think it fits him."

I gave my impressions in response to the information that Zenkichi told me.

Well, these were just my honest impressions.

My brother's nature fundamentally seemed more suited to being the producer of those with talent. His enjoyment and devotion to behind-the-scenes work stems from that power of his as a producer. So, naturally, when I heard that my brother was a member of the Student Council Executive Committee, I couldn't help but feel a sense of discomfort. A severe sense of discomfort.

To reiterate, the Student Council Executive Committee differs in nature between Hakoniwa Academy and Hakobune Middle School—Hakobune Middle School's Student Council had no mentality of "working behind the scenes" or "supporting the academy from the shadows".

Hence the discomfort.

It felt rather odd, yet it also piqued my curiosity—why did that brother of mine enter the Student Council Executive Committee? I couldn't just stand by without knowing.

"I wonder,"

I said.

"I wonder if my brother also entered the Student Council Executive Committee after being invited by that person—that Student Council President?"

"Hm? Well, I dunno about that... But that's definitely true for that Servant of Destruction-senpai. Turns out, as a matter of fact, that that guy's actually something like one of President Kumagawa's underlings."

But was that the case?

Was it really fine to just go with the explanation that he was simply an underling?—was that all it was, the relationship between Kumagawa Misogi and the Servant of Destruction? Of course, I didn't think that that explanation was necessarily wrong, and it wasn't like I was particularly interested in debating Zenkichi on the matter—but I couldn't help but feel that there was more to the relationship between them than just that.

Was it because of the Servant of Destruction's movements?

Or was it because of Kumagawa Misogi's movements? I didn't know yet.

Not to mention, according to Zenkichi, I had a bad eye for seeing people, so my eyes may as well have been black holes when it came to viewing people's relationships, so if I had voiced my concerns, it could've ended with me being laughed down.

Zenkichi continued.

"I find it hard to believe that Maguro-san shares the same position as the Servant of Destruction as President Kumagawa's underling, though—I don't think I can imagine that guy as working under someone else."

"Indeed. But Zenkichi, if you're going to say that, then I have no intention of simply being a follower of Kumagawa's, either."

"Eh? Really?"

Zenkichi spoke as if this was a surprise.

From Zenkichi's point of view, he must have hated the idea of me working under someone else even more, because somewhere in that expression of surprise of his, I felt that there was a hint of relief as well.

"I thought for sure, Medaka-chan, that you'd ended up surrendering to President Kumagawa."

"Why would I even need to surrender when we weren't even fighting... I just happened to take an interest in what he said. An interest, or perhaps... It piqued my curiosity, you could say."

Hm?

What's the matter, Torai Kudaki?

You're making the same surprised face, almost like Zenkichi's from three years ago.

Ah, is that it—that's what you found surprising.

Indeed, me being interested or curious about something may come as a bit of a surprise to someone who only knows the Kurokami Medaka from Hakoniwa Academy, the Kurokami Medaka that was the Student Council President.

However, at the time, I was simply a student that had newly entered middle school.

Of course, I was still immature in terms of age, but on top of that, I wasn't a person with any sort of position, either—even if I'd already held the doctrine that I was born to be of use to other people, I hadn't yet taken up the responsibility to play that part, to take on that role.

I was someone who simply moved on interest or curiosity.

Yes, that's why, unlike the time when I became a candidate for Student Council President of Hakoniwa Academy—unlike when I decided to become Student Council President after being deeply moved by the former President's actions—the reason I decided to enter Hakobune Middle School's Student Council Executive Committee was, yes, mostly out of those kinds of motives.

That bizarre aura that the boy named Kumagawa Misogi put out.

I wanted to try investigating it.

There was probably no better saying that fit me at that time than the saying, "curiosity killed the cat"—although that's only something I can say right now. At the time, I had had not an ounce of doubt regarding those actions of mine.

In reality, reminiscing like this feels somewhat in vain, too.

Looking back, even if I had made an obvious mistake, at the time I probably would not have considered it one—it's as if I'm looking back at the actions of someone completely different.

It's not that I'm embarrassed of my actions.

That's most definitely not a lie.

However, it surely would be a lie if I said that I had no regrets.

It's better to regret what you have done than what you haven't—that was what I'd discussed with President Kumagawa, but if you would let me move away from that subject for a moment, it seems that humans, no matter what happens, will always regret things.

Because, not regretting your past?

That just means you haven't grown since then.

If you consider your past self to have been a splendid person, then that essentially means you recognize that your current self is beneath that—and it could just be one way of seeing it, just one way of saying it, but if you think about it in that way, having a past that you're proud of might end up not actually being a good thing.

The difference between a proud past and a past glory—perhaps?

Everyone lives regretting their pasts.

And everyone lives consuming their futures.[?]

That sounds like something that Shiranui would say—but I digress.

Well, even if I, as a middle school first-year, moved with the motive of curiosity that was almost like an instinct, that may still have been my golden age—after all, it was then that I moved with nearly no hesitation.

No matter what Zenkichi told me.

Even if I knew that Kurokami Maguro was enrolled in the Student Council Executive Committee.

And this may come as a shock, but even after entering the Student Council, without changing how I thought and instead moving straight ahead, without any particular resistance or conflict. But yes, we'll learn about that soon enough.

Well, it's true that, as Zenkichi had said, if I'd known that my brother was in the Student Council Executive Committee in advance, then it's not hard to imagine that, in all probability, I would have rejected President Kumagawa's invitation—it would be very interesting to think about how things would have played out after that, had I done so.

"Well, since circumstances are what they are—it looks like I'll have to meet with my brother and talk to him,"

I said as I checked the classroom's clock.

It was just about time for the lunch break to end—it was maybe less than a minute until the bell was going to ring.

If I went now, I wouldn't make it back in time for fifth period, so I figured I could only do so after school.

"Zenkichi, what do you think? Do you want to meet with my brother, after all this time?"

"Aah, I'm good. Plus the third-year building is super scary. And I wouldn't want to get in the way of some good old sibling alone time."

Zenkichi rejected my offer with a bitter smile.

The way he gave his excuses seemed so cute that I couldn't find it in me to reproach him.

But he didn't forget to add this one last remark. And that remark was just what I expected from my childhood friend from when I was two years old.

"But if you end up fighting for real, call me over. I'll be sure to get in the way."[?]

■ ■

It shouldn't need to be said, but I was rather reluctant to meet with my brother.

This remains true even now, but whenever we met, it would always end up leading to a fight. Of course, from my brother's point of view, calling it a fight was something that I one-sidedly did, and was but one side to the truth.

According to my brother, he was simply doting on his little sister.

And it doesn't seem like the difference in our opinions will reach any sort of resolution for the rest of our lives—not to mention the fact that there are problems in this world that I don't want to resolve. Torai Kudaki, I'm sure this is something you sympathize with, as well.

Well, actually, that was just a random guess.

Putting aside the matter with your siblings, everybody worries about human relations one time or another.

Anyway, it was after school.

After school that day, I immediately headed towards my brother's classroom.

Unlike Zenkichi, my mentality wasn't so delicate that I would freeze up at the sight of the third-year building. However, I realized as I proceeded that I had made a mistake. Surprisingly, or rather, foolishly, I happened to have no idea what class my brother was enrolled in.

Since you have such good relationships with your siblings, I'm sure you might find this hard to believe, but not only was I unaware that my brother was in the Student Council, I didn't even know what class he was in.

Really, I should've known these things.

Even though I'd said that I could speak of my brother at length, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that I knew nothing about him—or rather, I didn't try to learn about him. Part of it could have been the usual feelings of unpleasantness that a sister might have towards his brother, but on top of that, it's possible that there was a bit of fear mixed in as well.

That's right.

With you knowing the details of what happened afterwards, you know that my relationship with Kumagawa, where we felt mutual disgust, mutual hatred for each other, eventually reached some sort of resolution—but my feelings towards my brother were a little different from disgust or hatred.

I was frightened of him.

That brother of mine frightened me.

If my eyes for people were bad, like knotholes or black holes, then Kurokami Maguro's eye for people would be too dry, too strict, and above all, correct—there's no way you wouldn't be frightened by that.

Your impression of him is different?

Ah, that may be the case—he's quite sociable, after all, that brother of mine.

For someone like you whose association with him is basically just knowing his name, it's possible he may just seem like a good person to you.

And it's possible he may just be a good person.

He's kind, and he's reliable.

In the end, between liking him and disliking him, it's fine to like him.

But try putting yourself in my shoes.

That is, I wish you could put yourself in my shoes.

For that guy whose occupation is to be a producer for other people—for that guy whose saving grace is being able to see into the talents of people, he was able to continuously look at me from the position of family, the closest position he could get.

That gaze of his, more than anything.

Made me remember that I was a monster.

And—it was beyond the matter of whether or not there was any malice involved.

So, the turning point that Zenkichi mentioned, when Kurokami Maguro's ability as a producer came to light—that may be when the discord between me and my brother began. Indeed, it may have been around that time when the days of playing on jungle gyms or swing sets became mere memories.

However, since I ultimately exceeded the limits of his producing framework, these circumstances may have actually been favorable to my brother after all.

Now then.

My brother did stand out in both appearance and personality, so regardless of whether or not he was a member of the Student Council, it was easy to ascertain his classroom once I described his characteristics to one of the upperclassmen that were around. Though it felt like I had been the last to figure it out.

However, this had taken up some time, so I'd entered that delicate period of time where it wasn't certain whether or not my brother was still at school, but when I peeked into the classroom through the window, I saw that he was still there. He was already making preparations to leave.

Thank goodness, I said to myself in relief.

Incidentally, this window was not the window into the classroom from the hallway, but the window from the courtyard—I saw him from the pathway that led to the third-year building. It was fortunate that my brother was still in the classroom, but having to cross through the pathway, climb the stairs, and run down the hallway to meet my brother before he left would require some fairly precise timing.

Or rather, from my estimate, I could tell I wouldn't make it in time.

I was a bit more impatient back then than I am now.

I wasn't thinking in any easygoing manner like, if I don't make it I can just ask him tomorrow, or I can ask him after I get home—I took three steps back, making just enough space for a running start, and then dashed up the slope of the pathway and jumped, aiming for my brother's classroom.

The sum of the lengths of two sides of a triangle was always larger than the length of the third—but it wasn't even necessary to apply such calculations here. I had confidence that I could jump the distance of the pathway between the two buildings.

The window?

It wasn't open.

Don't worry, I'd already checked before I jumped that there were no students in the vicinity of where I was expected to land—to be exact, I'd confirmed that there were no students other than my brother in the classroom.

There was no way a third party would get hurt by the glass shards.

That is, anyone except me and my brother.

And as I broke through the window with my foot, I used that same foot to dig into my brother's chest, taking the both of us down onto the floor of the classroom and rolling so that both of us were safely outside the range of the falling shards, all before the shards landed.

Although, as a result, my brother ended up hitting his back on the lockers at the back of the classroom, but that wasn't something I could take responsibility for.

That's awful, you say?

Not at all.

What was really awful would be the way my brother cheerfully spoke to me, even after going through all that.

"Hello, my beloved little sister Medaka-chan. And I was thinking that I wanted to go and see you, too. Good afternoon. To go out of your way to break a window to come and see me—you really love your brother by that much, don't you?"

As if the damage he took from his sister wasn't any damage at all, he laughed, cheerfully and refreshingly.

In quite a delightful manner.

And, in reality, in quite an unpleasant manner.

"But here, well... It's dangerous with all this glass scattered around, Medaka-chan. If the skin on your precious body were to get hurt, it would be a disaster. For now—shall we talk in the Student Council office?"

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