#but I did also find a song I’ve had vaguely stuck in my brain for a few weeks now

[thidwicktails]

Daily positive:

Back home and getting to sleep in my own bed 😴

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

ok yeah i’m rereading this so i can give you my reaction to specific little bits and. i’m literally two sentences in and i had to stop and grab a stuffed animal to cuddle while i read jay i can’t fucking do this

charlie sneaking off to new kinshasa to make the lives of brahmans better in any way he can <33

“Baird was not involved in them. He stayed back on Brahma and paced around the neighborhood all day and night waiting for Charlie” STOPPP BLESS HIS LITTLE COTTON SOCKS SOMEONE TELL HIM TO RELAX

“He wakes up, he lies there, and then he starts weeping” oh, my poor boy. oh sweetheart. i’m so sorry. i’m so so sorry. it’s devastating that they just didn’t know for weeks. they just didn’t know.

“But if I go, if I leave him now, he’ll have no one left” oh my god

“I didn’t want you to accidentally damage it and beat yourself up over it later” i have no idea why this line is getting to me so much but it really is. the tears are making their entrance people

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save your dad, and I’m sorry you’re stuck with me” jesus christ, it’s so hard to help someone through their grief, and it’s so much harder when you start to blame yourself for it. but none of this is iris’ fault. none of it.

“going off on this mission would have been a death march for you.” but not for charlie?? not for charlie?????

“I am going to make myself believe. I am choosing to believe that Eber and Talia will be roughed up and sent home under watch. I am choosing to believe that Charlie is safe and will make his way back to us. I am choosing to believe that just this once, it will work out for us.” this paragraph is so, so powerful, and i can hear the echo of jet’s words about your belief changing the world in them. i’m so glad iris finds the strength to believe. and i’m so sorry that it doesn’t pay off.

“It was supposed to be me! It should have been me!” baird’s entire reaction is absolutely devastating. but this hurts the most.

“What you did– how you reacted– it… it fucking hurts!” god, iris deserves so much better than what they have. they all do.

“Eber’s hands and feet are bad” the vagueness of “bad” is so, so terrifying

“Eber cried because he can’t hold his wife or baby girl” oh my god

“the twins are afraid of Talia” this line broke me. i can’t believe they’re so monstrous that even their victims are frightening.

“Some of them so small I swear they must be nabbing them from the crib” don’t tell me the constables are young. don’t tell me they’re getting to children and making them want to grow up and be a constable as soon as they’re old enough. that’s fucking horrific. smth smth swan upon leda “one more sweet boy to be butchered by man”

“Brahman Vermin”.

ok i’m just literally going to copy and paste zeph’s reaction to the song because FUCKING HELL, CHARLIE SANG TO LET HIS SONGBIRD KNOW HE WAS DYING IN THE NAME OF THE REBELLION. CHARLIE SANG TO LET HIS SONGBIRD KNOW HE WAS DYING IN THE NAME OF THE REBELLION.

also zeph. i need you to know that i had tears in my eyes within the first three words. your voice is fucking hauntingly beautiful and it’s going to be haunting me all fucking weekend. i can hear charlie’s quite acceptance and solid hope in your voice.

the choice to cut off the last word was fucking brutal.

thank you so much, zeph. thank you so, so much. this fic is unbelievably incredible on its own, and your voice turns it into a masterpiece.

all hail a free brahma.

“Brahma is under a new surveillance schedule. Our curfew has turned in earlier. And we will only be getting aid once a week now instead of nearly every day.” fuck them. fuck them.

“…” me too, calypso. me too.

i…… i have more thoughts about this but i’ve written enough, i think. and i don’t think i could actually put all my thoughts into words, which is interesting, because usually my brain is all words. jay, i don’t know what to say. i don’t remember the last time i have genuinely grieved for a character like this. your writing is astounding.

Our Angel of Brahma, pt. vi

This one's gonna hurt. Strap in folks. (promise for something lighter afterwards) @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @ananxiousgenz @demonic-panini @the-private-eye @gwenlena

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING BEGINS.  NEW VOICE:  Two weeks ago we were celebrating Baird’s seventeenth birthday. Charlie had given him an early birthday gift– a book that he bribed a Constable for a few days prior. And now this week, Charlie is missing. Here is what we know: On the first day of the week, Charlie had plans with Talia's little book club to sneak on to New Kinshasa. They were going to hide on the aid shuttles and storm the pantries in hopes of getting more supplies to Brahma. They were successful and managed to get on the next shuttle back to Brahma the following morning without getting caught.  On the third day of the week, Charlie made plans to go back to New Kinshasa using the same method to search for medicine for Mrs. Darius. She’s been reporting a lot of pain. If I allocate any more to her, we won’t have enough to go around until New Kinshasa supplies us with more meds in six months. For both of these outings, Baird was not involved in them. He stayed back on Brahma and paced around the neighborhood all day and night waiting for Charlie. Again, this mission was a success. It proved that the Constables were not efficiently checking the shuttles like they were supposed to be. It proved that it was possible to get on to New Kinshasa undetected.  SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN, NEW RECORDING BEGINS. NEW VOICE:  I had to put Baird back to sleep. He wakes up, he lies there, and then he starts weeping. I’m… not built to be a parent. But if I go, if I leave him now, he’ll have no one left. (SIGH) Charlie and Talia’s book club had found a weakness to get to New Kinshasa. On the seventh day, Charlie, his dad Eber, and Talia were going to go up there and were going to scope out the city’s streets. They wanted to make a map and find out where they could get access to the Reactor Core. Camilla wanted to go but Eber reasoned that if all three of them went, who would take care of Evelyn? Josie was the obvious choice but Charlie and I vetoed that. So Camilla stayed.  On the sixth day, the three of them set out for the shuttle. Mrs. Darius had set out laundry to dry in her apartment, Baird was entertaining the twins, and Josie, Camilla, Hank, and I waited around Camilla’s comms for a call from Eber. No news was good news. Night fell. And then the broadcast went out.  Three stowaways on a New Kinshasan Aid Shuttle were found. Two of them had been detained. And the third had run away and was hiding somewhere in the city. Brahma was set into lockdown. We would not be getting any more aid until the last stowaway was caught. The facial recognition scanners had identified the two captives as Eber Spade and Talia Virgo.  We are all holding our breath, wondering and waiting for what comes next.  Baird, if you are listening to this, I am very sorry I took your mother's comms. I know it’s important to you, but you were so upset and angry. I didn’t want you to accidentally damage it and beat yourself up over it later. I’m sorry I can’t bring your parents back, I’m sorry I couldn’t save your dad, and I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. The last thing your dad and I talked about was you. If something happened to him, I would become responsible for your guardianship. If something happened to both of us, the Spade family agreed to take care of you. And then if not us or them, Josie, and if she couldn’t, even old-timer Hank agreed. I am so sorry Baird. This is not the future any of us wanted for you. It’s not the life I would want any person to grow into.  But I made a promise to your father to take care of you. Charlie is aware of that promise, Talia wasn’t. That’s why he got mad you when he found out about your book club. You’re seventeen, and you are old enough to make your own decisions, and I trust most of them that you make. But going off on this mission would have been a death march for you. You don’t know what you’re up against out there. Neither did Charlie but… he’s been tangling with the Constables since your father was taken. Gotta hand it to the kid, he’s pretty damn smart.  I am not an optimist. But I am going to make myself believe. I am choosing to believe that Eber and Talia will be roughed up and sent home under watch. I am choosing to believe that Charlie is safe and will make his way back to us. I am choosing to believe that just this once, it will work out for us.  SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEXT RECORDING BEGINS. BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY): …They caught him. It took half a week, but they caught him…  After a few days lying around feeling sorry for myself, Iris gave back my mom’s comms, I listened back and… I just didn’t feel like there was anything I could add.  (SIGH) Here is what we now know: Charlie’s dad and Talia were arrested and held in New Kinshasa jail cells for half a week. The Constables found Charlie hiding in a construction zone and arrested him. The New Kinshasan government put out an announcement of a mandatory broadcast in two days. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.  SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. RECORDING BEGINS. (BAIRD SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY) BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY): It was supposed to be me! It should have been me! IRIS:  Baird! Baird! Give me the comms, I know you don’t want to break it– BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY): Get the fuck out of my face!! I wish my dad never met you! SOUND: FIST PUNCING A FACE. SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. RECORDING BEGINS. (IRIS HUFFING) IRIS: I had no choice but to sedate Baird. Baird, I am not sorry. You fucking punched me. I know I’m not your parent dammit, I know the broadcast hurt you, but that was unacceptable! What you did– how you reacted– it… it fucking hurts! (HEAVY SIGH) They released Talia and Eber to go home yesterday. Eber’s hands and feet are bad. And Talia’s face is unrecognizable. There are electrical burn marks all over their bodies. And I don’t think they were given access to any food or water. I’m doing the best I can to treat the worst of it. Eber cried because he can’t hold his wife or baby girl, and the twins are afraid of Talia. Mrs. Darius keeps asking how she can help, but I keep telling her not to worry, and I keep telling Hank to keep her occupied.  The broadcast was today. We all gathered around Camilla’s comms to watch what was going to happen. From the New Kinshasa’s Town Square, a platform was set up, and surrounding it were dozens of Constables. Some of them so small I swear they must be nabbing them from the crib. One of each of the other ranks was present too. Sergeants, Inspectors, Superintendents. Three Constables marched Charlie up onto the platform. Behind them, the Chief walked onto the platform. Every last one of those brats saluted them. They identified the third stowaway, Charlie Spade, and listed off various other offenses he had committed. Bribing a Constable for confectionary sweets. Bribing a Constable for banned literature. Shoplifting from a corner store. Vandalizing New Kinshasan government property. Breaking and entering. All things that we know of. And then they said something strange: they had evidence that Charlie killed a Sergeant.  (LONG PAUSE) The traditional method to get rid of Brahman Vermin, as they said, is to power on the Guardian Angel System and snipe them from up high. The Chief shook their head and said that in extreme cases though, extreme action must also be taken.  The Chief pulled out a blaster, a make and model even old-timer Hank didn’t recognize. They asked Charlie if he had any grievances to air. Anything to get off his chest. I don’t think he knew where the camera was because Charlie kept his gaze fixed down. He looked up and out, and he was looking past New Kinshasa. His eyes were hollow, and his face was gaunt. There must have been a million things running through his mind. But I saw an ounce of clarity in him when he opened up his mouth, and began to sing.  (IRIS TRIES TO SING) O’ my lover once sang to me. How sweet, the bitter tune  you made them plea. My angel, my angel, please let me go,  let me free. My angel, my angel. Please never stop singing for me. (IRIS SNIFFLES) The apartment, the whole block, and all of Brahma were silent. I knew the kid loved Baird. You’d have to be a damn fool not to see it. But that– that cracked him. It cracked wide open an infected wound of a child who already loss both their parents to a pointless war and lost cause. Baird stood up on shaky knees and took one staggering step backwards. At the same time, the Chief nodded, and said it was a beautiful send-off, “All hail, New Kinshasa.” Charlie mouthed something that the camera didn’t catch but Talia mumbled it loud enough for us all to hear, “All hail, a free Brahma.” The Chief raised their blaster to Charlie’s head and at point-blank range, pulled the trigger. He fell instantly. Convulsed on the ground. And then went stock still. I tore myself away from the stream to look at Baird, and there was a scream locked up inside of him.  It’s been five hours. Brahma is under a new surveillance schedule. Our curfew has turned in earlier. And we will only be getting aid once a week now instead of nearly every day.  I know it means very little Baird, but I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.  SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

- … - Baird, 16 (two weeks from 17): Charlie gifted Fahrenheit 451, started “book club” with Talia, got in trouble about it with Charlie and others when found out. Josie had twins, Hank’s dog died, Mrs. Darius accepted her diagnosis.- Baird, 17: Charlie taken, publicly executed.  - Baird, 27: the “decade” recording. - Baird, 14: charlie’s “dad” recording.- Baird, 12: Peter Nureyev threatened the G.A.S., and mom was taken away from their home. - Iris is Baird’s step-parent. They (Iris and Baird) have no one left.  - Frannie says she wants to help me now without pay. I can’t let her do that, but she is insisting that she’ll help recover the rest of the recordings, all I have to do is write a damn article. And with a roughly estimated age range for Baird, Frannie’s contact is going to give a bit of help too. I think I’m going to visit my mom’s grave in the meantime. I need a break.

[ranboo5]

Dropping the Ranboo mixtape

Anyway at time of starting to write this post I had two likes and two affirmative replies, which is Good Enough For Me, so here I am :D I was gonna link the YT but on second thought my YT channel is a mess so this is gonna be one of the annoying ones that doesn’t link to one you can actually listen to but 

This is also a running list and currently organized roughly by increasingly hotter takes and it’s under a cut bc it’s 13 songs and I justified all of them 

Everybody Likes You (Lemon Demon) - LISTEN THE ANIMATION MEMES WEREN’T LYING THAT EVERYBODY LIKES YOU CAN RANBOOCORE. The increasingly distorted, incredibly bright repetition of EVERYBODY LIKES YOU EVERYBODY LIKES YOU EVERYBODY LIKES YOU until you can hear it morphing in and out of EVERYBODY LIED TO YOU? Tell Me That’s Not Him In The Spiral Depths 

Tall (Naps the Block on YT) - This is a) literally a theme for the End, b) sounds stumbling and anxious/high-strung, and c) echoes the Pigstep melody in the middle while still very much doing its own thing this is self explanatory 

Dance of Thorns/Old Secret mashup (Tensei and James Roach respectively, feat. woodfur00 on YT) (yes this is Homestuck music) - It’s just the vibes. The energy. The way the elegance of the violin lines of Dance of Thorns sounds almost nervous especially against the almost noir mystery vibes of Old Secret, and the guitar lines of Dance of Thorns add like. Initiative/urgency especially when they underlay the other music it’s so good I don’t think either song alone is Ranboo vibes but this remix definitely is. Just the mix of perseverance and desperation and melancholy and mystery and Class 

Touch-Tone Telephone (Lemon Demon) - This one is old news but tbh it just works. Man decides he’s the correct one in this situation and he’s losing his entire mind that no one is listening to him because he just is not 

2012 (Will Wood) - This one isn’t really clever it’s just about memory loss, derealization, identity, and often self-hatred (“A miserable fuck, but a loud Tao mystical” is a lot). “Did you lose yourself?/It’s always in the last place that you check” sounds so mocking in ways internal monologues like Droice have been and “I might find myself/By retracing my steps” is literally just Ranboo dealing with the Enderwalk; “And not until lobotomy abolished my monotony/Did I applaud autonomy, and modify a lot of me!” works so much for him Dealing With Himself generally, and also “I heard the world would turn to hell/Compared to that, I’m doing well!” is a Him sentiment 

Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In! (Will Wood) - Jokes about the three hour mining/grinding streams aside. Not only is the chorus so heavily a spiral/self-evaluation mood, but literally consider his thought processes abt the things he’s done/allegedly done and then consider “My dreams were shattered like a stained-glass window/Jesus in pieces! I believe I through a brick right through Him/But my memory could not be saved!/It just seems unlikely that it’s me who was to blame/So I bookmark my DSM, ‘cause I need to remember my place.” And now with the advent of the “experiments” the second verse’s “Take the road on higher ground, and tell me ‘don’t look down! You’ll fall and break your back’/But that just reminds me how there’s more to be found beneath the black!” is more relevant than ever 

Friends With You (The Scary Jokes) - Oh my god. Oh my fucking god man. This could be on here for “I put myself to bed just halfway through the party/I love all my friends, but I hate when their eyes are on me” alone but the general almost empty saccharine vibe of the song is immensely his vibe; the humorlessly-smiling vocal fry on “don’t know” in “Why do you pretend/You don’t know who’s to blame?” is probably responsible for 80% of this read. Not to mention the first lyrics are literally “How long do I have to wait/’Til my lonely days are over?” which is really the. The waiting it out man the So When Do I Get To Be Okay of it all. Shoutouts also to “And the crumbling infrastructure no one else can see,” the self hatred of “I miss being friends with you/But what can I do/What can I do/But leave you alone?” and to “And I can tell you really love me/Can you tell I’m really sorry?” Just. The mix of hope+affection and dejected cynicism and self-hatred in the lyrics

Saline Solution (none other than Mr Wilbur Soot) - Remember what I said about waiting it out until you get to be okay? Anyway that’s crystallized in “If I could just break one more night/Maybe I could wake up and feel alright” and also this is literally a song about catastrophizing and self-evaluation just,, in general and I will not be highlighting all the lyrics about this but I will highlight the fact that he literally calls himself pragmatic and also the lyric “blurring the facts and the fiction.” Also, the sheer desperate anger-concealing-breakdown vibes of “I think I’ve made my choice” to “I think I’ve found my voice” deserves a mention, as does the culminating end of “saline solution to all your problems” with the tears+now splash water motifs of it all with Ranboo I am going to die 

Funny (The Scary Jokes) - This is actually a softer take but not only does it literally start with the singer pleading with the addressee to look away, it  continues with “I went up in the middle of the night and I climbed right onto the stage/And I raged/And I cried/Oh, what a funny joke am I” disregarding everything as performance, reemphasizes the opening demand with the qualifier “it’s not that I hate you, it’s just that I’m funny these days,” and then kills you with the last couple lines which. Yeah he does care and it does,,, just,,,,, a

Chemical Overreaction (Will Wood) - This is where the mood VIOLENTLY whiplashes because this is where we get unhinged. Anyway “I won’t stop to drop to draw a line in the sand/’Cause I’ll be picked apart to pieces by coyotes!” is LITERALLY the whole “I don’t do well with ‘peer pressure’” thing. “Where the sentimental value of the city around ya/Is deleted obsolete, but still completely will stun ya” is the single most L’Manberg lyric I’ve ever heard, especially from the perspective of a character whom I will repeatedly insist is narratively in the role of someone who’s shown up and seen the status quo as an outsider after it’s been established (hence the eternal New Kid vibes). Chorus very much has vibes of Ranboo Is Seized By The Urge To Do Something, and like. The entire dramatic end part. The last two lines especially (be very careful if you look up the vieo for this by the way it is NOT pretty; cws in the video for flashing, blood, suicide imagery) 

A Mannequin Adrift (The Scary Jokes) - The Bitterness. This song is just fully The Bitterness at the environment he’s stuck in; the saccharine comes back as does the “peer pressure” thematic and just the Having An Awful Time; the sarcastic saccharine comes back too, which is always good I love passive aggression. Honestly the first verse is just everything like just listen to it it immediately makes sense

Poison Ivy Grows (The Scary Jokes) - This is overall a song about having bad brain and not knowing what the hell to do about it; it’s so faintly bitter and distant and melancholy and also so zoned out. Also, it’s not the only lyric that matters here but it is enough to be a full argument on its own: “I used to spend so much time/Wandering around outside/Now I’ve got too much on my mind/Now I’ve got too much on my mind” 

Spring Haze (Tori Amos) - Listen. Do I know what Spring Haze is about? No. Is that gonna stop me from saying it’s about Ranboo? Also no. I just think “You say we’ll never make it there/So all we do is circle it” is so much, the fact that the bridge at the end is just “Why does it always end up like this?” repeated, and that it just feels so much like overall the song feels like a desperate attempt to figure Something out, and the chorus is just inexplicably him? It might be partially influenced by the fact that “Uh-oh, let go, off on my way” and, to a lesser extent, “Uh-oh, way to go” is not only in accordance with character vibes but also vaguely evocative of Ranboo’s speech pattern

[lacrimosathedark]

Because I’m thinking about it now I want to ask people: what not-your-first-language words or phrases have you incorporated into your everyday speech? I don’t mean like loanwords, actual words or phrases that aren’t your first language.

Here’s some of mine!

Perdona: Italian, pardon/excuse me. This was incorporated into my personal lexicon after a period of being obsessed with this song. Now I will often say “perdona” instead of “excuse me”

Bienvenue: French, welcome (though for some reason my brain thinks of it as “good evening”). I cannot tell you how obsessed I was with Cabaret as a child. My mother would play the soundtrack all the time and I loved it. Did I realize I was singing about strip clubs and the rise of fascism in Germany? lol nope. But the greeting in this song, “Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome!” always stuck in my head. Willkomen was harder to understand and pronounce as a small American child (or maybe I thought it was just “welcome in”), so I guess “bienvenue” is the one that stuck. (Tangent, even though it is written for, ahem, like-minded characters, I am very upset that right-wingers lay claim to “Tomorrow Belongs To Me” because I always thought it sounded pretty.)

Mon ami: French, my friend. There are many things I could blame for this, but I’m gonna blame the Hetalia fandom. Hamilton brought it back into my vocal dictionary.

No me gusta: Spanish, I don’t like that. Double pronged, I took Spanish in school also while this was a meme. Everyone in my school said this so I just kinda picked it up and it never left.

¿Por qué?: Spanish, why? Again mostly because I took Spanish in school and for some reason it sounds nice to me.

Nani? (何?) : Japanese, what? Another double pronged one, I’ve been passively learning Japanese for ages, and “nani?” has become sort of a meme. I specifically often say “nani the fuck?” when I’m startled or perplexed.

Ee to... (ええと...) and Ano... (あの...): Japanese, um/vague thinking noise. I sometimes find myself mumbling this while thinking. I watched too much anime. I specifically blame Yu-Gi-Oh! for this because Yugi did this a lot if I remember right. Very uncertain boi.

Gomen ne (御免 ねー): Japanese, sorry. Weeb + apologetic = saying this too much. Especially saying “gomennasai” ( 御免なさい ) is more formal and also felt more...cringey somehow. Probably didn’t help that there was a song called Gomennasai that was in English and kinda cringe.

Ne (ねー): Japanese, vague and varied but similar to “hey” or “right?”. I kinda say this long and drawn out. I blame Izaya from Durarara!! for this habit.

*rubs fist on chest in circular motion*: ASL, sorry. My mom taught me and the kids she watched basic ASL so the little ones could communicate when they weren’t good for talking at the moment. I am a very apologetic person and it’s actually become a nervous habit now to rub my chest when I feel bad.

*move flat hand from touching chin outward/downward*: ASL, thank you. I use this one a lot when I’m nonverbal. Simple and I’m grateful people put up with me.

Mum: Just the non-American English pronunciation of mom. I (unfortunately) grew up reading and watching Harry Potter. And had a Doctor Who phase. And adore Good Omens. I kept hearing and reading the word pronounced that way and eventually it just stuck.

I will add more as I remember them, but tell me yours! I want to know your weird language things!

[sugarcomatosed]

i love your stories so much!! and was wondering if you can give some writing tips perhaps? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Breaking this up into sections for you + putting it under a cut cause I went overboard. 😅

General Writing Tips

These work for both academic and creative writing.

Make an outline.

It doesn't have to be a formal one, but having at least a general idea of the scenes you want to include is helpful. If I know my fic is going to be a longer one (like Don't Hesitate was and my current WIP is), I break down the larger story beats i want to hit on a piece of paper or my iPad.

It's good to know what you're planning to do, in a any piece I usually have a single specific scene I want to do and depending on what it is, I might either just do the scene I want to or turn into something longer.

Draft, draft, draft.

I cannot stress the importance of going through and reviewing your work. This is a big part of any sort of writing.

Your first idea isn't always your best idea. As you work on a piece you might find your original idea is holding you back, focus shifts! Don't be afraid to let your work change as you go. It's not always easy to let go of your original idea but if you find it's not working, you have to let it change. Sections will need to be rewritten, things have to be readjusted to fit with later sections. Reread for clarity while you're drafting and look to see if this makes sense to you, or reads well to you. If you can't follow it and you wrote it, chances are your reader can't either. Did you use the same phrase again and again? Find and search it on your doc to double check.

Sometimes you have to cut things you really like because they just don't contribute to the fic anymore. Save those bits and use them somewhere else!In a lot of my longer pieces I will write a paragraph, realize that's not where it should go and cut/paste it into another part of the doc because the pacing/scene doesn't make sense where I had it originally, but it works somewhere else.

If you're stuck, skip around, come back and then stitch the bits you have written together.

Don't Focus on a Word Count

This might be controversial, but I'm of the opinion just because something is longer does not make it better. Some works are short, and that's okay! I very rarely try to aim for a specific count of words unless it's for a prompt exchange or a personal challenge. I write till I feel the piece is done. Some stories require more words, some require less.

Don't Hesitate is a great example of this again, because all I wanted to do was a bittersweet first kiss fic, but jumping write into the kiss wouldn't get the full effect I wanted. Meanwhile, with Old Habits all I wanted to do was write dumb comedic kisses, we didn't need a 2k preamble.

Get Someone You Trust to Edit

My go to editor for the past six years or so is one of my good friends. She has edited everything from college papers to my fics for me before I post them to read for clarity, find any funky phrases or misspelled words I missed, and I do the same for her when she asks! A fresh set of eyes makes a world of a difference. Find someone to trade fics with or ask a friend! They might have good suggestions you never thought of, or be able to tell what you were going for when you don't even know yourself.

I also rely on my friends a lot to brainstorm and talk my ideas out before I start because it helps me think and figure out what I need. It's super common for me to text someone and say "im gonna spitball at you, that okay?" and then spend twenty minutes chatting through my ideas.

Have Reference Material

For my 13sar fics, I regularly go back and review/screenshot videos of the dialogue to make sure I am staying consistent with story events, character nuance and small details. You don't have to go crazy, but it is really helpful to have your source material to go back to and check yourself against. In non creative writing I always had a pile of papers highlighted with my own notes on the margins.

Take Breaks/Pace Yourself

Know your own limits, and if you are working and working on something and it's not coming out leave it alone and come back to it. I'm really bad at this personally because when I get an idea in my head I want to see it through but sometimes you gotta step back! It's not healthy to keep working on things and overwork yourself. Stretch, get up go for a walk.

Write What You Want to Write

Don't focus on what people want to read. Focus on what you like. Find a topic, a scene, anything that you are passionate about and the rest will follow. The only time I write fic for other people is when I am writing for a friend. Even prompt requests I only take open ended ones, if I am not interested in writing it it's not gonna happen. I know it's super hard and I get really anxious sometimes about letting people down now, or worrying people won't like something but then I step back and remind myself this is a hobby and I'm doing it for fun.

Play to Your Strengths

You shouldn't try to write like me, you should try to write like yourself. Find what skills you have and use them to your advantage!

I can't give you a step by step list to write like me, because nobody in the world has my background! We're all unique. Everything I've listed so far I know because I'm not a beginner anymore! I'm in my twenties and have come from a strong academic writing background.

I took on an intensive course load in high school, and then went onto college for a sociology degree. I very rarely had test based finals and at the end of each semester would have five 10-15 page papers to submit. Straight up some of my skills come from having read and studied the works of anthropologist Clifford Geertz. I am not saying you should read anthropology/sociology texts. Unless you like that sort of thing lol

I also have 6+ years of theater experience (acting & directing), I use this all the time for my writing. When I think about a scene, I think about how I would work through it as an actor, how the character would move, and how would things read to an audience. The GOTE ("Goal, Obstacle, Tactics, and Expectation") method of acting by Robert Cohen is really useful hear if you want a more technical breakdown of what I mean by that.

This leads to a lot of what we called "business" in acting, doing small tiny things while you talk or move around on stage to give the sense you're a real human. I don't have to think or try on these sort of things because they're in my skill set already!

Things I do Personally

As in, these are not transferable skills this is just the stuff I do while working on projects.

Find a Vibe™️

I come into any fic with usually a goal I want to hit, a line of dialogue or something I want to capture. Just like, the general idea of a feeling a song even if the lyrics don't match up. Make a mood-board, a playlist, just find something you wanna do. It's less about the actual words on the page and what you're aiming to do.

Look to things that inspire you

Don't Hesitate got written because I wanted to write a fic that captured the same vibe as a scene in Macross Frontier, where two characters have a bittersweet kiss before the final battle and that scene still has me fucked up six years after watching it.

My current WIP is doing the same thing but with the song All I've Ever Known from Hadestown. Two characters working through loneliness, the sudden feeling of falling in love and the frustration that feeling can bring on sometime.

I don't plagiarize them word for word, but these are scenes that inspire me! I also patchwork quilt ideas together. Using Don't Hesitate again, I also ended up pulling from a bunch of shoujo anime, Toradora, Sailor Moon, Yona of the Dawn, Princess Tutu...specific scenes I enjoy to blend and create something new.

Goof Off While You Write

I name my documents stupid things, I write dumb placeholder dialogue or vague sentiments like "insert better word here", I make memes when I'm struggling and roast myself and my predictable tastes.

I spent twenty minutes texting a friend Juro's name with different letters spelt out and then the "fuck your chickenstrips" vine saying it was Juro during destruction. Just have fun with it!

Listen to J-POP On Loop for Hours at a Time

i am not kidding I do this all the time. Perfume, AKB48, anime idol osts, Sailor Moon's OPs/ED, vocaloid songs. I like technopop and Japanese is good because it usually doesn't distract my brain since I only know random phrases, but still know what the meaning og the song is.

I love music, it helps me vibe out.

Thank you so much for enjoying my work ;o;

I hope this is useful to you in some way! I'm so sorry it's so long winded but I am overly thorough and love to teach people ;w;

[mego42]

hi! a song inside the halls of the dark is an absolute masterpiece of plotting and pacing (and prob my fave fic I’ve read for the show so far), so for the ask a writer meme, I’d love to hear about your planning process(es). the idea of even plotting out something like that, let alone actually finishing it, just breaks my brain lol. do you do a lot of outlining? how much does the outcome end up looking like the ideas that sparked it?

adsfghgsj okay well first off, thank you! that is unspeakably flattering and i don’t know how to cope! my weird robot emotions are misfiring! but also, thank you for this question bc this is the kind of nerd shit i LIVE FOR and up until, idk, 5? 6? months ago my answer would’ve more or less been ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but sometime in between now and then i leveled up how much of a nerd i am.

okay so, the short answer to your (first) question is yes, i do a lot of outlining though the scale of outline varies based on the complexity of the story. in song’s case, how i outline actually evolved significantly over the course of writing it (see that level up) and if i were to outline it today, it would look very different from what i originally started with.

the short answer to your second question is in song’s case, the original idea was a v short, almost fluffy stuck in a hotel room for a night one shot i daydreamed up while listening to a halsey song (is there somewhere, if you were wondering). obvs what it turned into was uh, v different.

digging into how i outline is going to get long, excessively nerdy and borderline terrifying so i’m hiding the rest of this under the cut, read at your own risk.

I preface everything here with a couple of reminders:

1. i am a crazy person who straight up does not know how to have hobbies like a normal person

2. i am actively trying to push myself and grow as a writer including developing new skills and training myself to practice certain habits bc at some point I would like to push myself out of the nest and try my hand at original fiction one day with a vague goal of maybe seeing if i could get it published. idk if i’ll ever actually do that BUT in the meantime, i do stuff like the nightmare that follows to myself

initial outline / what happens next list

okay so the most basic of my outlines (and how i originally outlined song) are p much just lists of what happens next. i do them as bullet lists bc my brain finds them less intimidating and i just start with one and then ask myself what happens next. sometimes the bullets are v vague, sometimes they get so specific i end up writing what becomes dialogue, i try not to think too hard about it, i just keep asking what happens next.

it’s really specifically about what happens next, not asking myself what i want to happen in the story, bc next implies the bullet before informs the one after, so you end up with an overall picture of what you want with a base level of causality built in. it also gives you room to surprise yourself (i think literally every what happens next outline i’ve done has had me going oh, okaaaaaay at some point).

sometimes, this is all you need. for trade my heart for honey, i started and stopped here bc at the end of the day, the skeleton for that fic is super basic: beth and rio attempt to play pool without tripping over their horrendous sexual tension. they fail. the end.

for your monster looks like mine, i did a version of the what happens next list, but i brought in some of my tricks from the pace structuring method i’ve been honing for the multi-chapter i’m currently planning. instead of mapping tentpole beats by story pace, i mapped tentpole beats for what points i wanted beth and rio to be scoring against each other and then mapped out the lead-up and fallout to connect the two and also what they were doing to each other physically at the same time so i could see how it all played together so the conversation supported the smut and vice versa. it was a TOTALLY normal approach to writing pwp. not over the top at all. 

song’s original outline was basically a SUPER long what happens next list and if i could go back in time i would slap myself upside the head like bitch you have no idea what you’re getting into and you are WAY TOO COCKY ABOUT IT, but it’s okay i learned.

the spreadsheet method

somewhere around when i was in the middle of i want to say ch 9 of song, @pynkhues posted about her outlining process including a super awesome spreadsheet she uses (i cannot for the life of me find the original post, forgive me but know that it was hers) and i immediately jacked a version of it to use as my own and oh my god it changed my whole life. 

iirc hers was a bit more in depth but since i was sort of baby-stepping into it, i stripped it down into the following and did a sheet for each of the remaining chapters (well, ch 10 and ch 11, ch 11 ended up getting wildly out of control so i split it in two and mushed the epilogue i’d been planning onto the end of it as a closing breakout scene:

plot

character

it’s a lot of repetition, tbh BUT once i started using it, i found the repetition was incredibly clarifying and by making myself take the time to go through each column and go through the same stuff over and over, it honed in on the strongest, most relevant bits of what i was planning and helped me see patterns and connections i maybe hadn’t been thinking of on the onset.

when i outlined swear i used this method and added a layer to my chapter overviews where i track the lies and corresponding truths worked into the chapter narratives (bc that’s a key theme of the story), and color-coded the beats that corresponded to the main plot vs individual character arcs vs foreshadowing so i’d have an at a glance visual reference to make sure nothing was getting lost and all of the characters (even minor ones) had stuff happening to them and didn’t just feel like cardboard cutouts coming in and out of the story as i needed them

pace structuring

these are all fine and dandy but one thing they’re missing is pacing! for song’s pacing, i will be real with you, i v much went a lot with my gut. i’ve spent most of my life consuming and paying a lot of attention to stories. i’m fascinated with how they come together and literally cannot shut off the part of my brain that likes to pick them apart to examine the pieces to see how they all fit together. as such, it’s left me with a p instinctive grasp for how a story should feel when it’s working which is fantastic when it is, but really useless when it isn’t bc i struggle to identify where and why sometimes so i can fix it.

for the buffyverse, once i started to realize (with no small amount of horror) the scope of what i wanted to write, i realized p quick i needed some kind of tool kit to help me figure out the arc and pacing bc this was going to be a lot closer to trying to plot a whole novel from the ground up (which is great bc one of the things i want to practice is pacing and plotting out novels from the ground up, hahaha)

i’ve been working with a two main docs (and neither of them are spreadsheets, yet, bc one thing the spreadsheet method taught me it’s that while i find them very soothing, my brain works in bullet lists so i’m starting with bullets and then i’m gonna strain it through a spreadsheet):

1. Thoughts:

just a doc where I word vomit out anything I’m thinking, I don’t worry about keeping it organized, I just throw whatever I’m thinking in there so it’s memorialized and I can sort through it later.

2. Act Timelines / Scene Breakdowns:

basically, i have a basic three-act story structure with tentpole story beats broken out by general ballpark percentages of how far into the story/act they should occur for the pacing to feel right. i use that as the framework i run my plot and character beats through and do it in a couple of passes:

high level: i go through and break out what’s happening in the story for each tentpole beat (what the specific story and plot focus is)

by character: i go through and fill in (at least) one sub-bullet beneath each plot tentpole beat with what’s happening with each main character in their individual subplot, how they got there, what their general feelings and mindset is, if they’re having any revelations, etc (one thing i fucked up with song is not making sure i had stuff going on for all of the characters, the plot was super focused on beth and while i generally knew what rio was doing and why, ruby and annie more or less floated in and out of the story at whim and i hate that, so i’m trying to be better about it going forward)

by relationship: now i go in and fill in a layer of bullllets with how the plot and character beats are shaping relationships and how they’re progressing through each tentpole beat

at this point i’ve got a pretty fleshed out outline hitting on plot, character and relationship development at least in broad, general terms. i can look at it like a map and see how characters are growing and changing throughout the story and look for areas where the plot is pushing the characters vs the other way around and places where it seems weak or poorly connected/supported and i tinker with that for awhile until i feel like it’s in good shape.

next step is applying the what happens next approach to the scene by scene breakdowns. i’m trying an experiment with this one where instead of breaking the fic into chapters first, i’m breaking it into scenes and working out the beats of them so they incorporate all of my outlined stuff and then i’m gonna go back and see where the chapter breaks look like they fall.

I’m like, 75% of the way through my scene breakdown for this particular fic and once I’m done with that, I’m going to take everything and plug it into the spreadsheet I worked with for the last couple of chapters of song and highlight/color code like I did for swear to make sure my chapter breakdowns align with everything I’m trying to do and I’m tracking all of my themes and details and setting things up to pay them off later.

so, you know, an absolutely normal amount of planning for a hobby i do entirely for funsies in my largely nonexistent spare time. 

(sorry this was i am assuming WAAY MORE INFORMATION than you ever wanted or needed to know but once i started i couldn’t stop)

(and seriously, thank you, am truly verklempt that you love song like that 💖)

bts fic writing q’s IF YOU DARE hahaha

[haloshornsinkstains]

Other Side [Songfic, slight Dabi x F!Reader]

While I’m working on Kinktober stuff and my head is a mess, here have a songfic that wouldn’t leave my damn brain for the past few weeks after I saw an animatic based on this song (The Other Side from The Greatest Showman). It just works? Also, apologies on the quirk, I was rewatching Bungou Stray Dogs and <3

CW: Female reader, alcohol, swearing, mention of unwanted groping, Endeavour is a dick... otherwise, pretty SFW

You groaned, pressing your head against the bar and gesturing to the bartender for your usual. Hearing the glass set down beside you, you looked up and smiled, taking a long drink. “Thanks Ryu.” The bartender smiled sympathetically. “Boss still a dick?” “The biggest flaming dick in Japan.” You grumbled. “They’re still keeping me on office duty. I break one creeps jaw and they trap me inside. Mirko punched a reporter and she’s still a top hero.” “Hey, it could be worse. You could be not working under the number one hero.” “No, that makes it worse.” Ryu frowned. “How?” “I hate him. I always hated him.” “Then why don’t you just leave and work for someone else.” You scowled at your glass, left hand leaving dents in the wood of the bar where it rested. “Not allowed.” “Bullshit. And stop denting my bar.” “Truth. Believe me, I’d leave if I could. But I can’t.” You sighed, lifting your hand from the wood apologetically. “Sorry Ryu. If I left I wouldn’t get to be a hero any more, even if all I do is paperwork I worked my ass off for this.” Ryu shrugged, spotting another customer signalling him out of the corner of his eye and smiling apologetically. “Sucks I guess. I’ve got people to serve, shout if you want a top up.” “Believe me, I will.”

You heard a glass set down next to you, the unmistakable heat of a body taking up the seat to your right. "Hey there princess." The voice was gravelly but so familiar. "Nope. I've had more than enough Todoroki bullshit for one day." You growled, staring daggers at your drink.  "Sorry, you must be mistaking me for someone else." You turned, narrowing your eyes at the man sat next to you. "Dabi. You remember I've known you way too long to fall for your bullshit right? And I am so not in the mood." Dabi went to lift his glass, only to find it stuck to the bar, your skin giving off a faint red glow. "Come on princess, I only want to talk. We can bitch about that asshole like old times." You sagged a little, the glow fading and his glass suddenly much easier to lift. You knew he wanted more than to just talk, Dabi's talks always came with attempts to recruit you into the league or, if he was drunk or high enough on adrenaline, his bed. But he was an old friend, and one of the few people more than happy to join your Fuck Endeavour and Fuck The Hero Commission rants. Shaking your head you gestured to one of the darker tables in the back, this might have been a very shady bar but Dabi was well known enough now that even here someone might be dumb enough to try to call the pros. And you liked this place too much to see it turned to ash. 

  You both settled into your seats in the back, you nursing your whiskey with a frown. "So what did dear old dad do today?" "Existed?" You huffed. "Bitched me out for not downplaying the damage caused in one of his 'rescues' while I was writing his reports for him. Which turned into more general belittlement of my attitude, abilities as a hero, quirk… basically he covered all the bases." "You know they'll never let you leave there right? You'll be doing paperwork until you die." Dabi drawled, you glared at him. "They're keeping you there because you're too dangerous to them, you know too much and you were caught sympathising with a villain. He hates you, he won't hesitate to put you down at the first sign of defection. You're trapped." "I didn't sympathise with a villain. I just didn't disagree with all of his ideas regarding the behaviour of heroes. I didn't exactly agree with his methods, I liked Ingenium plenty thank you very much." You grumbled, swirling the amber liquid in your glass. “He was friendly, and fun.” "Still… you hit like a truck when we were kids, I'd love to see what damage you can do now." He hummed, eyes flashing bright for a second. "You could be very dangerous. So they lock you up in an office doing filing for a man that hates you like a good little minion." "You're alarmingly eloquent today." You took another sip, setting the glass down and closing your eyes with a deep sigh. "I worked my ass off to be a hero, why would I want to throw that away?" "Oh, so you enjoy being his little secretary?" Your eyes flashed, skin glowing red as his chair creaked under the sudden strain of the gravity increase. Dabi just smirked, that stupid smug look that told you he knew he'd won. "Just listen to my proposal?" You sighed, the oppressive pressure dissipating in an instant as you waved at him to continue. Maybe he'd put a new twist in the spiel this time.

"Right here, right now I put the offer out I don't want to chase you down I know you see it"  “We do this on a near weekly basis, you have quite literally stalked me to this bar, if that’s not chasing me down what is?” You scoffed and shook your head, eyes flicking to the bar while you debated how many more drinks you were going to need after this. "You run with me And I can cut you free Out of the drudgery and walls you keep in So trade that typical for something colorful And if it's crazy, live a little crazy" "Well at least you acknowledge your league is entirely batshit." "You can play it sensible, a king of conventional" "Conventional? Really? I'm wounded." "Or you can risk it all and see Don't you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play 'Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride It'll take you to the other side 'Cause you can do like you do Or you can do like me Stay in the cage, or you'll finally take the key Oh, damn! Suddenly you're free to fly" You drummed your fingers on the table, honestly the bird metaphors were a bit weird but he was starting to sound like he had a point, which was…. Alarming. You needed to shut this down fast or you’d break.

  "Okay, my friend, you want to cut me in Well I hate to tell you, but it just won't happen So thanks, but no I think I'm good to go 'Cause I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in" Dabi scoffed. "Really? Didn't sound like it five minutes ago." You shot him a glare. "Now I admire you, and that whole show you do You're onto something, really it's something Don't you know that I'm okay with this uptown part I get to play 'Cause I got what I need and I don't want to take the ride I don't need to see the other side So go and do like you do I'm good to do like me Ain't in a cage, so I don't need to take the key Oh, damn! Can't you see I'm doing fine I don't need to see the other side"

Dabi laughed, gesturing at the dingy bar and the glass in your hands with possibly the most judgemental look on his face you’d seen in years.  "Now is this really how you like to spend your days? Whiskey and misery, and parties and plays"

You sighed again, but your shoulders were sagging now and he knew he was winning. You couldn't pretend you enjoyed this any more, restrictions and abuse breaking you down into someone much easier to tempt and mould.  "If I were mixed up with you, I'd be the talk of the town Disgraced and disowned, another one of the clowns"  You huffed, waving a hand vaguely in his direction.  

"But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little Just let me give you the freedom to dream And it'll wake you up and cure your aching Take your walls and start 'em breaking Now that's a deal that seems worth taking But I guess I'll leave that up to you" He stood to leave only to find the gravity of your quirk forcing him back down. He knew then that he had won, they'd turned a hero. Shigiraki might take some convincing but that didn't matter right now. Your resolve was crumbling.

"Well it's intriguing, but to go would cost me greatly So what's in it for me?" "Freedom. You want to punch the next guy who touches you inappropriately through a building? The League won't question you for a second, and there's no paperwork." You shook your head. "You'll have to raise the price a bit more than that." "Its a big fuck you to Endeavour?" "That was weak even for you. Dick has hated me since I was, what, five? All I’m doing is giving him an excuse to come after me. He'll be after my head as soon as I leave, and as much as I’m loathe to admit it we both know he's powerful." "You get to spend all the time you want with your favourite childhood friend…" his smirk turned wicked and knowing. "No one to stop you, no questions, no hiding in the corner of a dingy bar. And I guess Shigaraki is okay.” "You play dirty, you know that right?" "Well, I am a villain." Rolling your eyes you knocked back the last of your whiskey and stood, holding out a hand to him. "Well, guess I'm pissed off enough not to care any more. Congratulations Touya, you win." Grinning Dabi took your hand, ignoring the use of his old name in favour of pulling you in for a hug. “Oh, you’re going to be amazing Princess.” “I’ve always been amazing.” You chuckled. “Take me to your leader before I change my mind.” Dabi grinned. “As you wish.” “And no burning down my favourite bar!”

The pair of you stepped outside, Dabi sending a quick message on his phone that was shortly followed by the appearance of a swirling black void. "No wonder I've never seen you on the subway." You joked, though your fingers tightened anxiously around his. "Time to move up in the world princess." He chuckled, tugging you forwards into the void. "You know I don't like...holy shit." You stepped out into a different dingy bar, several faces snapping up to look at you as you appeared. Dabi was a comforting presence at your back. “No more corners of dingy bars huh?” You murmured, shooting him a sideways glance. "Hey Dabi, what's with the midget?" You bristled. "I am not a…" "Shit, that's a pro!" The villain speaking launched at you, intent to kill flashing hot in his eyes. Already irritated and more than a little on edge you activated your quirk, watching him fall flat on his face as overwhelming gravity pulled him down. Dabi had crumpled to his knees behind you, the others struggling to move.  "Princess."  You just growled. "She's with me, with us." Dabi continued. "Princess?" With a huff you released your quirk, watching warily as the villain who'd gone to attack you pushed himself to his feet. Dabi's hand on your shoulder made you flinch but his grip was strong, somewhere between restraint and support in case wide scale use of your quirk had taken it out of you. It was hard not to appreciate the gesture, even if you felt fine. "Meet Graviton. She's… an old friend." "I didn't know you could make friends." Your head snapped around at the sound of the voice, focusing in on Shigaraki sat at the bar, watching you from between the fingers of the hand on his face. "I've got more than you creep." Dabi snapped back, fingers digging into your shoulder. You tipped your head back a little, raising an eyebrow at him.  Shigaraki scratched at his neck, eyes never leaving you. "Why is she even here? She could be a double agent."  You couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled out at that. "Hah, no." "Why are you here?" You were glad for the dim lighting, the constant attention making a blush rise on your cheeks. "I had a really bad week, and Dabi asked nicely. Even said please." As much as you tried to be nonchalant you couldn't hide the slight tremble in your voice. Shigaraki scoffed and you finally looked away from him. "I'm sick of being stuck doing paperwork because the Heroes say so. I worked hard to get my license only to be told I'm not allowed to do anything except sit in a cage with someone I hate. Guess I finally had enough. I was told you'll let me use my power." "And she really wants to punch Endeavour in the face." Dabi added cheerfully. "Oh yeah, that too." "I trust her, and you should know by now I don't drag in just anyone." "Shigaraki, she could be useful. She has inside information and that power was impressive." The black void behind the bar spoke, startling you a little and pulling a quiet chuckle from Dabi.  "Fine. Make yourself useful, if you try to betray us I'll kill you." Shigaraki huffed, standing from his seat. "Kurogiri, I'm going back to my room." "Welcome to the League [name]."

[aminiatureworld]

Hypnos

Ship: Geralt x Jaskier

Warnings: None

Premise:  Jaskier realizes how unbearable sleeping next to one's unrequited love can be. Luckily that setup doesn't last forever.

Author’s Note:  What was supposed to be a short fic went into the wee hours of the night, and since I wrote another fic (putting today's word count since midnight at above 3k) this isn't actually all that proofread, apologies in advance.

Hope you enjoy and thank you to all 33 people who liked/reblogged my last one. I’m eternally grateful to you all for being so kind!

           Jaskier was beginning to wish that he’d just agreed to sleep on the floor. It was high summer and a bit of a dry season for Geralt. Jaskier had joked once that perhaps the heatwave was too much for the monsters, that they were probably all off on vacation in the north, and honestly he was beginning to believe his own joke more and more, for not only was the coin scarce, but half of the time the bard wondered if his boots weren’t one day going to simply meld to his feet, and he’d never be able to take them off again. The humidity didn’t help his singing much either. Not only was his voice not appreciating the sudden spikes in temperature, dreadfully hot in the beginning of the night and cool enough in the morning to cause complaining in his throat, but his lute was also suffering, as the wood kept swelling and throwing off the pitch, the pegs constantly sticking and refusing to turn. This certainly didn’t help in terms of funding, so when Geralt had suggested they’d share a bed to stave off sleeping under the stars, this town didn’t seem to have a nice patch of grass within ten miles of it, Jaskier had readily accepted, as the floor was terribly splintered and had a suspicious stickiness about it that kept them both with their shoes on.

          Now however he wondered if it wasn’t worth getting a mysterious illness for a little bit of sleep, for sleeping next to Geralt seemed in the moment like the most difficult task Jaskier had yet to attempt while following the Witcher around, for although it was indeed frustratingly hot, although the bed was indeed small and cramped, and although the open window indeed let in more stench than breeze, none of that was comparable to the anxious feeling that was bubbling up in Jaskier’s stomach, or the tautness of his senses, as he now seemed to be aware of every little movement that came from the sleeping man next to him.

He kept his back to the Witcher, hoping that would ease the anxious feeling in his chest, the sweat running down his chest, half due to the heat, to his nerves. Whether it was indeed better than facing Geralt, Jaskier couldn’t tell, as it seemed every little movement he made caused such an obnoxious creaking that flipping over was quite out of the question. His every nerve seemed to be begging for sleep, his eyelids kept sliding closed, yet quickly he’d open them again, for his mind kept racing with all sorts of scenarios where he accidentally kicked Geralt, or got too close or, gods forbid, found himself tangled with the Witcher. Not that he didn’t want that of course, indeed Jaskier sometimes felt he wanted that too much, for being around Geralt had the sometimes unfortunate side effect of cause such a tightness and fluttering in his chest, as well as, well, other things. Still it was a lot easier to temper that with occasional flirting, which Geralt never seemed to pick up on; references in songs, also unnoticed; and a bit of secret staring, Jaskier was glad that hadn’t been found out yet; than to deal with the very immediate consequences of being stuck in bed next to the man that Jaskier wouldn’t hesitate to throw his heart at, if he thought Geralt wouldn’t catch it and toss it out the window. Straining his eyes to stare at the window, Jaskier wondered what decisions he made to get here and, accepting sleep was going to be in short supply that night, prayed to whatever god was listening that he’d never have to deal with this situation again.

          Unfortunately whatever god was listening must’ve had a tight schedule for it was barely a week and a half before the situation happened again. Geralt had apparently felt nothing from their previous bed sharing, so when they’d landed in a particularly crowded inn he’d simply looked at Jaskier and said “I guess we’re sharing again tonight.” Jaskier had simply nodded dumbly, hit with such a wave of panic that he’d not managed to think of any sort of good excuse, and now here they were again, and here again was Jaskier wondering where it’d all gone wrong. It was a cooler night at least, though cooler was hardly the same as comfortable this year, and his nightshirt still stuck to his back, drenched in sweat. Somehow the bed seemed even tighter than the last one, and though Jaskier had managed last time not to run into his companion, he wasn’t quite so sure about this time around. Half of him wondered if the night wasn’t simply better spent in front of the window writing music by moonlight, but they were simply passing by this village, and tomorrow was going to be spent on the road, so sleep was a desperate need. Scooting slightly more into the bed, at least it seemed to be less creaky than its predecessor, Jaskier felt his back touch the Witcher. So that was how much space he had. Silently cursing the inn for only having two pillows per bed, Jaskier’s standard was usually closer to five, Jaskier lay shifted so his left arm wasn’t completely pinned underneath him and, praying that this would be another uneventful night, drifted off into a fitful sleep.

          Jaskier woke up in darkness. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, having been in the middle of an incredibly odd dream featuring a bunch of random schoolmates and a series of differently colored doors, also was there a war going on? Shivering slightly, it was awfully cold, Jaskier groped around for some sort of blanket. Unfortunately those seemed in short supply, and, quickly growing too tired to continue the search, Jaskier simply saddled up to the source of heat next to him and, vaguely thinking this was quite the odd pillow and had he simply not woken up, drifted off back to sleep.

          The room that the two men had rented faced the dawn, and thus the sky was still slightly purple when Jaskier woke up. Blinking heavily a few times, the first thing that hit Jaskier was the freshness of the air, the second thing that his him was the pair of arms around him. A more efficient alarm there never was, and as Jaskier was aware of that he also became exceedingly aware of the fact that, during the night, his sleep ridden mind had apparently decided that wrapping ones arms around and nuzzling ones face into the chest of one’s unrequited love was a perfectly reasonable and sane thing to do. Now however Jaskier was discovering, indeed, that wasn’t the sanest or most reasonable thing to do. He wondered how he might get himself out of this situation without waking the Witcher when he heard a sleep filled “Jaskier” come from the lips of the man who he’d wrapped his arms around. Looking up at the sleepy Witcher, the sleepy Witcher who’d evidently not processed the situation, Jaskier felt the familiar burning in his heart and in his chest, the bittersweet warmth of falling in love, for at this point it most certainly wasn’t simple infatuation, with someone who’d never return the feeling. For a moment he felt a pang of jealousy, jealousy towards anyone who’d the Witcher had let into his heart, for sometimes Jaskier couldn’t be sure what his place was in that sense, whether he lay outside the walls of Geralt’s defense or not, but that quickly faded, replaced by the familiar tenderness the bard felt. Geralt was too good for that kind of jealousy anyhow.

          Moments passed and Jaskier waited for Geralt to do something, to grow embarrassed or some such thing. But though his face turned an interesting glow of red, Geralt had yet to react, and for a moment time seemed to freeze, neither party making any move to break the odd spell, the situation they’d landed themselves in. Finally Jaskier made a half hearted move to go, but though Geralt slackened his arms around the bard’s neck he made no move to untangle himself. Finding the entire situation more and more unbearable by the moment, Jaskier felt the tension rising by the second. Finally a sort of desperation came over him and, seeming to realize at the moment how terrible an idea this was, Jaskier lifted his head and gave Geralt a quick kiss on the cheek.

          If nothing else that certainly did the trick. Geralt’s face grew red as an overripe tomato, and he quickly lurched up to a sitting position. Jaskier did too and, realizing that he’d probably just thrown their whole relationship down the drain, began a string of apologies. “Geralt, I’m so sorry. You don’t… I don’t… we don’t have to go down a path even intersectional with that. I just, I suppose it was just that you’d made no gesture to move, and, well, I’ve kinda been wanting to kiss you for ages and ages now, but I really value your friendship more than anything like that, so we can just pretend that it didn’t happen if you want and I’m so very sorry!”

          Geralt up to this point had made neither to move nor to speak, only sort of staring at Jaskier in what the bard supposed was a shocked sort of expression, really Geralt had such a hand on the reins of his facial expressions it was hard to tell, but seeing that the bard was at least pausing for breath he leaned closer. Immediately all thoughts were dashed from Jaskier’s brain. He felt a sort of disbelief that the Witcher hadn’t simply left yet, a disbelief that grew intensely when instead Geralt made to cup Jaskier’s cheek with his hand. Leaning slightly into the touch Jaskier still shook his head slightly. “I, I don’t understand.”

          “May… may I show you?” Geralt gazed down at Jaskier, moving closer so their faces were inches apart. His mind working overtime, the situation finally clicked in Jaskier’s mind, and at that moment he felt such a lightness and joy that it seemed to completely black out the rest of the world.

          “Yes please.” He breathed out before Geralt brought his lips to Jaskier’s and all else was immediately forgotten.

            It had taken a much longer time for the two to get on the road than expected, though Jaskier, feeling delightfully spent, didn’t mind the disruption, and thus by the time night fell it was abundantly clear that they’d be camping, for the next town was still some miles away. As Jaskier began rolling out the beds he placed the two right next to one another, smiling devilishly at Geralt, who beamed fondly back. Jaskier’s smile also softened into an affectionate one, and he joined his companion who was currently focusing on building their fire. Plopping down next to Geralt, Jaskier began playing a soft theme, the kind that didn’t bring attention to itself while still being beautiful enough to be worthwhile.

          “Sooo.” He spoke up. “Might I ask now about your affections towards me, I know I’m quite irresistible of course but I’d still like to hear it, and why you’d been so reticent about it?”

          “You said nothing.” Geralt pointed out, but there was no attack in the words, only a sort of fondness. “And, well, people connected to me are always cheated by Fate. Everyone I’ve met who I’ve, well,” he threw his hands up slightly, “they’ve all met bad ends. I didn’t want that again. Not for me, yes, but not for you.” He gazed softly at Jaskier. “You deserve better.”

          “Nonsense,” Jaskier replied softly, “I deserve only you, perhaps not even that, perhaps I’m not even good enough for that. But I’d still have you, if you’d have me.” He paused.

          “I thought I made that quite clear.” Geralt replied softly, and, arms sliding around the bard’s waist, who in turn threw his arms around the Witcher’s neck, made to prove it.

[depizan]

Writing process asks: All the odd numbers!

1. Do you write outlines? How closely do you find yourself sticking to them?

Not as such. Sometimes, I have no more than a vague idea/inciting incident in mind and proceed to make it all up as I go. Sometimes, I have kind of an unwritten outline of the general events of a story (these things happen, in this order), but even then, it’s not very detailed.

So, in as much as I have outlines, I stick to them. But that isn’t saying much.

3. What’s your process like for world building? Do you have a clear definition of the world before starting or do you make it up as you need things?

Aaaaages ago, when I wrote original fic, I world built from the large to small - I had pretty solid ideas of civilizations and such, then invented places within them. Now that I write fanfic, my worldbuilding is mostly worldpatching. Oh, canon doesn’t explain how that thing works? Here’s my explanation. Oh, canon forgot to include any Imperial worlds where you could grow food? Let’s fix that. So these days, it’s a matter of making things up as needed.

5. How do you name things?

Depends on the thing. With characters, some have real world names found by flipping through name books, while others were named by the highly scientific method of scrambling syllables I find appealing or appropriate until something clicks. (And, occasionally, by use of on-line name generators. Which is kind of automated syllable scrambling.)

Places mostly get named via syllable scrambling or name generators. I have a whole spreadsheet of potential ship names, and words that are appropriate for ship names (based both on real world or fictional ship naming conventions of varying sorts - the ______ Star, [country’s royalty], [thing] [animal], etc.

7. How long do you spend in a single writing session? Do you wish you could spend more time?

That varies. There have been times when writing is going swimmingly and I’d write on my lunch break, then come home, make dinner, and write for several hours. There have also been times when I just stare at a blank document periodically and wish words would come.

I wish I could manage to have productive time more consistently. I have plenty of time for writing, really. It’s just that my brain won’t always cooperate.

9. What do you listen to while writing? (If you require silence or some other kind of atmosphere how do you create it for yourself)

I used to be able to listen to songs while writing, but I don’t seem to be able to do that any more. I just sit there and rock out, which is not nearly as useful. I’m trying to scrounge up enough soundtrack and classical bits to give myself a few mood appropriate playlists, since I have trouble focusing in silence. (I’ve also tried various ambient sounds, but, while that’s better than nothing, it’s not as good as music.)

11. Do you know how your story will end when you start writing? Have you ever started out thinking it will end one way and have it end differently?

That depends on whether I started with a vague outline or just a premise/inciting incident. If I have a vague outline, yes. If I’m entirely winging it, nope. When I do know where I’m going, I seem to be pretty good at getting there.

13. Do you immediately post something when you finish it?

Yes.

15.  How many stories have you started and never finished? Are they abandoned or do you want to get back to them eventually?

I have so many abandoned stories from back when I was going to be a “real” writer. Also lots of beginnings from when I was a teenager and better at beginnings than completion.

In more recent times, I’ve got a few bits floating about that just didn’t really coalesce into anything or that I decided wouldn’t work. Maybe I’ll pillage them for good lines some day.

17. How has your writing process changed between beginner writer you and current writer you?

Oh jeeze. Beginner writer me was a tiny child. Except for the few years between when I got sick and when I started writing fanfic, I basically told stories from the time I could talk, drew them from the time I could hold a pencil, and wrote them from the time I could string words together on paper. Young me was an endless font of scenes and ideas and random bits of dialogue and if you left me alone with a piece of paper, it was going to get drawn or written on.

I hate that I rarely have that kind of enthusiasm now. On the other hand, I’m a lot better at actually completing things. But oh boy do I miss that just shameless story burbling.

19. What’s the best piece of writing advice you’ve received?

Uh…

Oh, wait, I was very stuck on a fic a few years ago because there was a very logical way for things to go, but that very logical way had the potential to end terribly. One of my writer friends suggested I try writing it out anyway as a possible way it might go (or words to that effect), so I did, and lo and behold, it did not end terribly.

21. What kind of story are you writing right now (or planning to write soon)?

I’ve got a couple of adventure fics in the works.

23. Is your story top secret or are you posting updates for it as you go? 

I generally post things chapter by chapter, so when the writing starts flowing again, it will be an update as I go.

25. Free space. Tell me anything you want about writing in general or one of your stories.

Earlier today, I was trying to help a writer friend solve a writing problem they were having and instead we solved a writing problem I was having. And maybe made some progress on their problem, too. \o/

[enkelimagnus]

Literature

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1756 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 3 Power Broker

Sam falls asleep on the plane over to Madripoor and leaves Bucky and Zemo alone. They actually talk to each other. I would say it's nice.

TW: brief allusion to past rape, internalized homophobia, brief mention of the holocaust

Read on AO3

Part 20 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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

It’s an eleven hour flight from Berlin to Madripoor, even with Zemo’s private jet. Once drinks have been served, food has been eaten and threats have been made, they all find themselves settling.

Sam has dozed off on a seat, seemingly exhausted. After all, they’ve already travelled the eight hours from the states, and the day has been stressful at best. At least, Sam trusts him enough to fall asleep while Bucky watches Zemo. He wasn’t expecting that. Or perhaps his human physiology is betraying him.

Bucky needs less sleep than a normal human on regular days, and he also can survive much longer sleep deprived. He’s well aware of the limitations of his body. Hydra tested them thoroughly and multiple times. Zemo would know as well, that Bucky might look tired but it doesn’t diminish his abilities as much as it seems.

The man in question is at his seat with his book, though he’s regularly looking up through the windows of the plane or around the cabin. There’s something quiet and wistful about the way he stares at a spot where the carpeting is not perfectly set against the wall to the bathroom.

The silence is good, especially after earlier, where Sam and Zemo somehow managed to gang up on him about Marvin Gaye of all people.

It’s not that Bucky doesn’t like Marvin Gaye. He just doesn’t like much music. He’s sort of lost the taste for it. His brain is usually unable to perceive it as anything but unnecessary noise that keeps him from being completely aware of his surroundings. And at least 40s music doesn’t have death and rape associated to it.

And he doesn’t need to know what Steve thought of it, whether Steve loved it or not. He’s not Steve. Steve journeyed light into the 21st century. Everything was something new to learn and experience, it was exciting and bright. Bucky is travelling with baggage. And he has memories attached to songs and tastes and sensations and events.

Bucky simply can’t use the notebook the way Steve did.

Sometimes, he wonders if Sam forgets Bucky wasn’t simply on ice for 80 years. The issue with him is that he lived through most of it, and it was all torture.

Or maybe not all . He woke up craving Karpov’s kasha the other week, and it makes no sense. He only tasted it during one specific time of his life, when Karpov and him got stuck in a safehouse in the snow, with no way to reach the outside world, for two weeks. The Soldier’s rations and formulas ran out long before they were able to leave. Karpov was too smart to let him starve, and perhaps that time alone with the Soldier, away from the world, with no way to freeze him or unplug him had made him see he was still a man. The kasha was warm, and thick, and sweet and sometimes, Bucky remembers that feeling and craves it.

The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.

Zemo’s right.

In all honesty, Bucky believes he’s forgotten who Steve really was.

Memories become blurry when they age and no matter how desperate Bucky is to crystalize them, to remember them, to be sure of what he lived, all he manages to do is to frame faded photographs and fill in the blanks himself.

Steve and him didn’t have time. He found him after two years of searching, only for Bucky to be back on ice within two weeks. After that, Steve visited a few times during his recovery, when he introduced him to the goats he’d named after the sisters he finally remembered. And then, there was the War, and the Snap and once Bucky was back to life, Steve was shattered. And two weeks later, he was gone.

They didn’t have time to learn each other again. Bucky doesn’t know who Steve is anymore, half of his memories feel tainted by Smithsonian explanations, and he hates it so fucking much.

He hates that he can’t remember right, he hates that Steve’s slipping away from him every second of every day, that all that is left is the fucking shield and Captain America. That Steve’s legacy doesn’t seem to run deeper than that, else Bucky would have less of a single-minded focus on that fucking piece of useless fucking metal.

It’s only been three months. Why does Steve feel like he’s been gone for a lifetime?

Bucky breathes out a shuddering breath.

When his eyes focus again, Zemo is staring at him.

The book is open on his lap. Bucky can read the title. Same Sex Fantasies in Heterosexuals. Fucking hell. He doesn’t need that right now. At all.

“You’re a different man than the one I remember,” Zemo says quietly after a moment. His voice is soft, just slightly above a whisper. He knows Bucky has sharp ears. He knows he doesn’t need to wake Sam up.

Bucky dignifies that with a huff and looks away for a moment. Zemo’s eyes don’t leave him. He can feel them on him, on his face, on his throat, on his hands, on his body. They make him itch. They make him want to punch him for looking at him like that.

Like what?

You know exactly like what.

When Bucky looks back, Zemo’s indeed still watching him.

“You’re old now,” Bucky says eventually, in a vague answer to what Zemo said earlier.

“Eight years have passed, James. You cannot blame a normal man for something he has no control over.”

Eight years. So Bucky was right. Zemo wasn’t dusted. He stayed in that solitary confinement cell for eight years as the world moved on around him, as the world fought and lost half of its people.

Had he wished to be one of the ones that were snapped out of existence? Probably. After all, every second Zemo breathes and exists is a second more he wasn’t supposed to have. He tried to kill himself in Siberia, once his mission was over.

“Do you ever read normal stuff?” Bucky asks, a bite in his words.

Zemo raises an eyebrow, head tilting slightly to the side. His eyes are still glued to Bucky’s face. He still wants to punch him.

“I would need you to define ‘normal stuff’ to answer this question.” There is a hint of mirth in those brown eyes though. He knows exactly what Bucky means.

Bucky huffs and rolls his eyes. “Machiavelli, fucking… whatever this shit is,” he makes a motion of his chin towards the book. It’s in German, something about boundaries in relationships. Hilarious, really. It’s not like Zemo has anyone to set boundaries with. Unless those eight years of solitary have somehow driven a rift between Zemo and his own dick. “That’s not normal stuff. Novels, popular stuff…”

“I wonder,” Zemo starts. “Have you any recommendations for titles of ‘popular stuff’ for me?”

Everything Bucky can think of is old. He’d told himself he’d look into acquiring books but… he hadn’t had the time or the energy.

“I see your taste in literature has elected to stay with your taste in music, then.”

Fucking ass. Bucky closes his eyes and sighs so heavily he’s pretty sure Sam’s going to wake up.

“To answer your question, James,” Zemo starts, conversationally, as if they aren’t enemies, as if they are just old friends, so old they have become strangers. “I do read normal stuff.” The phrasing is foreign in his mouth, in that accented voice of his. “I’ve read all the classics, and children’s literature. Eight years are long. I practiced my Russian with translations of Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings at first.”

Bucky hums, looking up at him for a moment. “I noticed your pronunciation had changed,” he says quietly. “Did you read it to yourself out loud? Pretended someone was telling you a story?”

It’s cheap. They’re both aware of how lonely the past eight years must have been. It’s cheap, and it’s low-hanging and Bucky almost feels guilty.

Zemo’s small smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Have you read Jules Verne?” Bucky asks, trying to erase his taunt with some more literary conversation. “Was obsessed with his work as a kid. Kinda like Tolkien, but even better because it was… full of invention, not of magic.”

There’s a floating moment, a few seconds of Zemo just watching him with that slight sadness in his eyes before it is washed away and replaced by a hum.

“I’ve read those books, yes. In the original French,” Zemo points out and Bucky is almost grateful for the boasting. “You should seek a new translation, if you’re not adept at the original language. The one I assume you read was a descendant of 1870 translations, riddled with errors and political censorship. They fixed that in the 60s. You’ll like the new ones better.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take that under consideration, I guess.” He’s so sure he’ll like it.

“And if you find yourself in the north of France one of these days, you should stop by this little city called Amiens,” Zemo continues. “A fine place, old and new, in the way only Europe can be. Jules Verne died there. The city’s positively themed after the man and his work. You can even visit his house.”

Visiting a dead man’s last residence? “That’s kinda morbid,” he mutters and Zemo has a small chuckle.

“People visit Anne Frank’s house as if the walls aren’t hollowed with fear,” he points out. “Dying makes one the public’s intimate friend. You know that better than anyone else.” He gives Bucky a sidelong glance. They both know he’s talking about Steve, and the documentaries and exhibits and think-pieces.

Bucky nods quietly and looks back through the window. The sun is painted indigo and pink. It’s beautiful. He’s forgotten the sunset could be this beautiful.

When he looks at Zemo again, he notices the exhaustion written all over his face, in the small wrinkles and under eye bags and the way his eyes won’t settle on anything for too long, desperate to stay awake.

“I’m not gonna kill you,” Bucky says after a moment. “We need you.”

Zemo chuckles tiredly, a soft and muted sound. “If that is the one thing that is keeping me alive… I believe I shall keep myself useful, then.” It’s almost sarcastic. A man living on borrowed time, wishing desperately he could be executed.

“You do that.”

[teacup-crow]

I Wanted to Love You

Zombies Make 08/08/20, round four! Thanks again @crownleys and @puptart for a really fun day! This one is based (uh very vaguely) on the song Maybe We’re Meant to Be Alone by Bad Suns. Also I had Hadestown stuck in my head so make of that what you will.

Jody looks after an unwell Tom, early season 6ish.

CW: a bad case of the flu – people might understandably not want to read about it under current circumstances! Also delusions and unconsciousness, references to past torture, lack of self-worth. (But it’s sweet and romantic I swear!)

He gasps for breath, fighting with the blanket that is strangling and suffocating him, the hands around his neck squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter.

“Tom?”

Cold sweat. Hot sweat. Everything is shuddering and blacking in and out of reality. His lungs are full of fluid – have they dunked his head in the trough again? Try not to panic, then, Colonel De Luca. Don’t breathe through your nose, no matter what. Imagine you’re elsewhere. Detach your brain from the situation. They’re not going to let you drown, after all. You’re too valuable. Don’t give them what they want. Break your own mind before you give them anything. Break, break, break, break.

“Tom!”

They don’t normally use his name – to them, he’s just “the English spy, the English dog”. Monikers which, he supposes, are accurate enough. It’s a woman’s voice, just above the surface. Are they holding her, too? Are they hurting her?! He’ll distract them, if so. If they’d pull his head out, and he could get a look…

“Tom!”

Everything spins, and shifts again, and she’s hanging above him, a cooling palm on his forehead. He’s lying on a pallet, the smell of his own sweat and urine diminished, replaced by the lavender soap of her hair. How did she get him out? Why are those eyes so familiar, and so frightened? Did he dream of her, coming to save him? Is she Orpheus, with his lyre, come to take Eurydice from the underworld? But he looked back. Orpheus looked back, and lost her. The woman is going to look back-

“Tom, do you know where you are?”

“Don’t stop looking at me! Don’t go away! Don’t! Please!”

“Jesus, you’re burning up.” The woman backs away, not taking her eyes off him once. “Can someone get Maxine in here, please? Urgently!”

“Don’t… don’t look away. If you look away, I’ll go back.”

“I’m not looking away, and you’re not going anywhere. Never again, okay?”

His eyes are dull with a lack of recognition, but he gives her the sweetest smile. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

***

“It’s just another case of Junin-2,” Maxine confirms from behind her face mask. “It’s a particularly virulent flu, but he should be fine with a few days of rest, and most of Abel is inoculated.”

“It’s hard enough to make him rest as it is!” Jody whispers back, a hint of desperation in her voice. “He never sleeps!”

Sure enough, Tom is mumbling his way through a myth, dropping in and out of what they assume is Greek. He sits bolt upright. “Any other mortal would have died! But not Orpheus!” He follows up with a round of coughing: the effort apparently exhausts him, and he collapses into the pillows again.

“I’ve not seen him hallucinating this badly in years,” she continues, a little shaken by the fit. “Isn’t there anything we can give him?”

“The Ministry soldiers cleared us out of medical supplies long before their retreat. Redirected them to London, and more “loyal” communities. Kefilwe had to treat people with… I think you’d call it ‘a lick and a promise’? Anyway, our supplies are thin. If he’d been vaccinated, but…”

“Getting a needle in him is a nightmare on its own, I know. I don’t want to leave him, Max, but I’ve got so much to do. If Janine were here-“

“Janine?” Tom’s voice from the bed is frail, but clear. The women turn back to him. “You know Jenny?”

Jody sits back down on the side of the bed, stroking his head again. “Yes. She’s your sister. Do you… do you know who I am?”

“You pulled me out of the underworld. Or maybe that was somebody else. I’m… I’m…”

“I’m Jody, Tom. Jody. I’m your partner.”

“On the mission? What’s your rank?”

She looks up at Maxine in desperation. She shakes her head. “He’ll be okay in a few days. I’ll sort someone to run the township. Try and get him to drink some water.”

Jody’s eyes say water, Maxine? Are you fucking kidding me?! But she turns back to him instead. “No. We’re together. You and me.”

“Not true,” he laughs. “You’re too pretty. Out of my league.”

His lips are warm, and as rough as sandpaper as she plants a kiss on them. “There you go. I just proved it.”

“Oh.”

***

There are stars in her hair, moving and shifting. Are they going to grant him wishes? No, wishing on stars is a stupid game for little children. That’s what Jenny said angrily, catching him at it, the night they arrived at General Bakari’s house. I wish I wish I wish mother and father would come back. He didn’t try again.

Deep inside, he feels like he knows this woman, that her honeyed words are true, that he is in a beautiful future with somebody’s hand in his. It’s feeling of longing he cannot put into words, but his head knows better. He’s still in a filthy cell, still weighted in chains. Maybe they went too far, knocked him sideways in the temple one too many times, but if it’s a dream, it’s a lovely one. It must be a dream – everything is in a haze of warmth, fuzzy through gauze.

“I wish you were real, Jody,” he says, after a new bout of coughing has laid him immobile. “That would be nice.”

“I am real, Tom,” she says, her voice a little stricken. She’s opened the windows, and he realises then that he can hear the patter of rain, smell the unmistakeable scent of it. How sick he used to get of English rain, when he first got there. How much he misses it now.

“I’m real, and you escaped years ago. They’re all dead, all your captors, every last one. You’re back in Britain. Jenny’s here. I’m here. You’re somewhere safe, where nobody will ever get to you. And I’m not going anywhere. You’re just unwell. It’s just the flu.”

“My… throat does hurt.”

“Exactly. Sip some water, and you’ll feel better, okay?”

He takes the cup in shaking hands, but manages, and hands it back with a pensive look on his face.

“I must be difficult.”

“What?”

“I must be difficult to be with. I’m probably riddled with trauma, if what you say is true. I must be difficult to love.”

She traces his face with his fingers, sighing a little in relief to find it cooler than last time. He savours every touch. It’s been so long, in his mind, since anyone did this. “Not for me. I wanted to love you. I chose to. I’ve never wanted that before.”

“You still do?”

“Of course I do. Now take a nap, and I promise I won’t go anywhere. When you open your eyes, I’ll be waiting, right here.”

He closes his eyes. “I always thought that I’d be alone. But partner. I think I like it. I like it…”

If he just keeps hold of her hand, maybe he’ll stay in the land of the living for good.

[threelivesthreeworlds]

“LITTLE PILLOW BOOK MEME TRANSLATIONS COMPILATION, PTS 1 - 7”, bc Admin Ro gotta share the crack content. You can find all of these lil bits on Tang Qi’s weibo, linked (HERE).

1.  “I Only Got Five Points on the Ancient History Exam”

Ali: How come you only got five points on the last ancient history exam?

Gun Gun: Maybe because before the exam, I asked my father to help me study.

Ali: That's even less reason. This time, almost all the questions were about your father!

Gun Gun: Mmhmm, I did the exam as he taught me to.

Ali couldn't wrap his mind around it: Then how come you only got five points? And what did your father say about you only getting five points?

Gun Gun: He comforted me and told me that the truth would always only be in the hands of the few.

Ali:.........

2. “Helping with Studying”

Ali and Gun Gun were talking again in front of the school.

Ali: I heard my mom say because you only got five points on the ancient history exam, Big Sister Feng Jiu hasn't been very happy recently, right?

Gun Gun nodded his head honestly: Yes, and because Mom isn't very happy, Father isn't very happy.

Ali: Did your father help you study? (clutching his heart with an echo of fear) Every time I do badly on an exam and make my mom unhappy, my father helps me study endlessly to make her happy again.

Gun Gun: My father didn't help me study.

Ali: That's good.

Gun Gun hesitated for a moment: But he helped the teacher study.

Ali:....

The innocent Ali didn't know what to say for a moment.

3. “Contribution”

After they were married, one day, Feng Jiu went to talk to Dijun: Recently, I've been thinking that my parents are managing all my state affairs for me, and I still mostly just go to school. I'm not making much contribution to Qingqiu, right? Should I be a little more motivated?

Dijun: Believe me, your contribution to Qingqiu can be written down in the history books.

Feng Jiu was shocked: What did I do?

Dijun: In marrying Yehua, Bai Qian dragged down the seniority of the whole of Qingqiu, and then you dragged it back up.

Feng Jiu:........

Dijun: Your father and your grandfather must be very grateful to you?

Feng Jiu:......

4. “Sleeping Style”

This happened shortly after Feng Jiu recovered from her injuries.

Early morning, Feng Jiu woke up to find the sleeping appearance of Dijun, who had again buried his head into her shoulder, arms hugging her waist securely.

Feng Jiu pushed a little, and pushed Dijun awake: "Why are you taking me for a pillow again?"

Dijun buried his head further into her shoulder groggily: "I'm not taking you for a pillow."

Feng Jiu looked at the bed curtains expressionlessly: "Chong Lin said when you sleep by yourself, you hug the pillow like this to sleep."

Dijun said vaguely: "I was pretending the pillow is you."

Feng Jiu laughed: "Don't lie, when I was a little fox in  Taichen Palace, I saw you hug pillows like that in your sleep frequently, you didn't even know me then."

Dijun paused for a moment, and didn't speak.

Feng Jiu humphed: "You did take me for a pillow!" And at the same time she was secretly impressed with herself: I could make Dijun speechless, what an accomplishment.

A moment of silence. Dijun slowly lifted his head from her shoulder, and lifted his arm and leg and in one motion had her under him.

Feng Jiu: You - you - you - what are you doing?

Dijun undid the ties of her clothes casually: Proving to you that I didn't take you for a pillow.

Feng Jiu:.......

Daylight fell into the chamber, and Feng Jiu's brain was a little stuck. Such a pure little talk...how did it come to this? She looked at her clothes being thrown off the bed, and was very confused.

5. “Going to Court”

Siming found Lian Song to ask him a question.

Siming: After Dijun built the Starlight Ward to purify the poisonous essence, he hasn't been to Tianjun's court meetings in 200 years on the excuse of needing to rest quietly. But today, he shockingly appeared at court. All the immortals are terrified, thinking that Dijun coming to a court meeting so suddenly means the realms must be facing some great calamity again. Third Highness, do you know what's going on with this?

His Third Highness was silent momentarily: Did you notice Dijun's robes?

Siming: I did notice, it was very grand, and made Dijun seem more sophisticated and elegant.

His Third Highness: That's it then.

Siming did not understand.

His Third Highness: That robe was made from material Feng Jiu wove herself, and she sewed it stitch by stitch for him.

Siming still didn't understand.

His Third Highness: He's very pleased with it.

Siming still, still didn't understand.

His Third Highness: So he wore it to the court meeting to show it off.

Siming:....................

6. “Wedding”

This happened shortly after Feng Jiu woke up.

Siming found Chonglin to get information from him.

Siming: Chonglin, rumors say Dijun wants to redo a wedding banquet for Her Highness Feng Jiu?

Chonglin: You're right.

Siming: And the celebration will be for two hundred days?

Chonglin: Correct.

Siming: Isn't that a little excessive? The immortals of the Realms don't have that much free time to go to his wedding banquet every day.

Chonglin: He doesn't really care whether you come or not.

Siming: ?

Chonglin: He only cares about the two hundred different styles of wedding clothes he's prepared over two hundred years, and whether or not Her Highness Feng Jiu will model one a day for him.

Siming:......

Chonglin: I think Her Highness will.

Siming: ......

Chonglin: Her Highness is gullible, Dijun said in the ancient times, all the respected gods got married like this, with a two hundred day wedding banquet, and the bride had to wear two hundred sets of wedding clothes, and she believed it.

Siming:......

Siming: High God Zhe Yan is also an ancient god, didn't he notify Her Highness Feng Jiu and reveal the lie?

Chonglin: No.

Siming: That doesn't seem like protective High God Zhe Yan.

Chonglin: Well, perhaps it's because High God Zhe Yan hopes High God Bai Zhen will also believe this, and model two hundred sets of wedding clothes for him when they get married.

Siming: ......

Chonglin: Now you know the biggest secret around Taichen Palace in the last 200 years.

Siming: ?

Chonglin patted Siming's shoulder: If there's a bad interpretation about why this wedding banquet is being put on out there, Siming Xingjun, I'll come and find you.

Siming: ??????!!!!!!

7. Can’t Find the Title

After a very very very long time, Shao Wan awoke, and one day, when chatting with Zhe Yan, started talking about Donghua.

Shao Wan: I knew if he was going to get married one day, it was going to be a round fur, and I was right.

Zhe Yan:…Even though this description isn’t incorrect, why does it sound wrong?

Shao Wan: He married the only nine-tailed red fox in all the realms, and then this red fox gave birth to the only nine-tailed silver fox kit in all the realms. That means, both of the most unusual foxes in the world are his. I think he must have reached the peak of his god life.

Zhe Yan: I don’t think Donghua’s reached the peak of his god life for that reason……

Shao Wan: Ah, what a good marriage, makes me envious!

Zhe Yan: Envious that he was alone for so many years but finally found somewhere to belong?

Shao Wan: No, I envy that he can pet foxes every day at home, and can switch color foxes to pet.

Zhe Yan:……………..

[tinycaprisun]

a song not about love

title: a song not about love characters: chuck taylor x trent beretta word count: 1864 part: 1/1 warnings: mild cursing, no character names are said (but the perspective is alluded to be chuck’s and the “best friend” is trent) a/n: hi! so, holy crap i’m actually doing this... i know, it’s freaking me out too. i guess for context, yesterday i literally did not sleep at all and in a 5 am sudden burst of energy, this little fic came out of my brain. i’ve never posted my work online before, so this is kind of a big thing for me? also, this is so different from how i normally write because there is next to no dialogue, and it’s not, uh... funny? but it sure is something ahah

He won’t say it. That one fucking word that has been tormenting him for what feels like his entire life. He will not under any circumstance say it, or hell, even feel it. It sets you up for failure, for a gashing claw directly to your heart as it punctures and plays with what little you have left.

It’s like that song from Hercules, he thinks. The one where Meg is singing by the fountains about her feelings for Hercules and denying them every step of the way. It feels like that, except the brunette knows this isn’t some sappy Disney movie. This is real life, the one that made him hate himself every time he looked in a mirror. The one that gave him no other option to cope with everything that swirls in his mind at blinding rates than to drown what he does have away. 

Words were never his strong suit, with him always clinging to actions and movement, as more often than not, his mouth would betray him with what would come out of it. 

There’s this burning sensation, festering deep under his skin, well into the flesh, that tingles and jumps no matter what he does. It gets worse when he’s around. Not that he would know it, his friend was never good at picking up on just about anything. Itching, almost, with him unconsciously rubbing his arm over and over trying to forget that was where he had last touched him. A congratulatory pat, and that was it.  

The thought of already being dead crosses his mind. That perhaps, he is already dead, and that what he is living now would be his own personal hell. Set up explicitly to torture him for the wrongdoings of when he was alive. He wonders what that life was like, and if the people he knew now were there. That gave him no solace, as even if he were still living, there would still be his best friend there ruining it all.

Ruin in the best way possible, he amends. Because without him, the brunette can’t picture his life in any capacity. There would be none as far as he is concerned. There was so much of him that did not have, that lived in his friend.

Someone a long time ago said they were soulmates. Platonic, he assumed at that moment, was what the man meant. All this time later, he knows what he was getting at. He won’t say it, he never will, but he knows why the other man said it. That memory liked to crawl into his brain sometimes, replaying like a song you have stuck in your head until you can’t take it anymore and finally listen to it. It does not ease your pain, the song is still stuck. 

Soulmates were someone that housed all of the pieces of you that you did not have. The parts of you that you could fully - the word - because they were in someone else. Maybe that was why he liked keeping his friend around all the time. Because they were the same person.

Except they weren’t. His only slightly shorter friend was better than him at literally everything, not that it bothered him. It just made for more to... This was getting harder and harder to not say by the ever so slowly ticking seconds.

His mind takes over again. Blocking him even farther from reality than he already was, to think.

It’s the way he smiles, he ponders. But only when it’s at him. Tiny, unguarded, and sweet like pineapple fluff. Adoration is always in there too; along with warmth, and if he himself was feeling extra in his own head, intense longing. He silently prays for the last one. Never has been sure why, but he hopes with everything he’s got, that it’s in there somewhere.

What was longing? Catching his eyes across the room as they sparkle under even the dingiest of LED lights? They’re brown, like rich earth that used to be beneath their feet when they would do an outdoor show. Exposed from years of treading, letting others walk upon it without question, working down to its most basic form. It’s very core. He decides that him and the earth aren’t so different.

There is no reason to be like this. So deep into his own recesses that even the most forceful of tactics will not rouse him. Akin to a coma, however his eyes are certainly still working and there is definitely a concerned friend staring at him through their own pair of sunglasses and a neutral expression. 

He says something, slow and quiet like he usually does. It does not compute. His friend says it again. He cannot speak, but he can shrug while moving his gaze to stare past him.

It’s radiant over there, a shining oasis asking to have its glory basked in. Unsurprisingly, it’s him. Recognition helps bring back his question. Longing is time. All of it wasted, even if there is still so much to go. No mercy is given to him, not that he believed he deserved it.

His mind jitters and trails off again as it usually does. It’s his voice, he considers. Peering at him would make you guess it’s low and gritty, but he knows far better than that. His voice is of a baritone, but it’s far too uplifting and sometimes outright high to be anything else. Smooth also felt applicable, calmly finding its way to the right words and pitches as his hands say what his mouth can’t. He really enjoys that quality about him.

Reality is boring, he concludes. Sinking back into his cave of wonders and mostly misfortunes he calls his brain. He has his muse of which to think about... again, and the brunette couldn’t be any more content.

Content is the wrong word. Again, he is no good with those, but he does know that content is something he will never be. His is different though, for a reason he will not say. Fuck, are we really back to thinking about longing? For a third time? Is this what he wanted; to be caught in an infinite time loop, ala Groundhog’s Day, where he relives every thought he’s had for the millionth consecutive time? 

To be fair, that was how it always was when he saw him. Everything surfacing at the same time and he gets caught in the crosshairs, winning the wonderful luxury of wading through them again. 

His laugh is nice. His hair looks good today. The tank top he has on is way too tight fitting and leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Not hard to imagine anyways, he’s seen it a thousand times, having roamed it with his hands. But only briefly, and the idea sends him into a tizzy.

One that marks the end, the one that finally has snapped him and made him have a new goal. It’s like drowning again, except not in his usual Crown. This is one where he actually can’t breathe, unable to get above water safely and take those precious gulps he so desperately desires.

He is standing in front of him now, fueled by this very known force that has a known name that managed to carry his battered body to the other side of the room, without him even noticing. There is no one else in the room. Or maybe there is, but he can’t tell. For him, it’s only his friend and himself, which is all he could ever want.

His best friend asks him how he is. He does not answer. The other brunette seemed vaguely alarmed by this, commenting on this fact and letting the notion hang in the air. There is no true reply, not to what he is asking nor to anything else. They stand in silence, pressure building and concern rising, like a dam that’s about to burst open and destroy everything in its wake.

Being forward has always been his calling card. Breaking any tension or an awkward silence with little tact and a lot of bluntness. He’s rough around the edges, as are most things in his life. 

This one comes off as a cliff though, hurtling himself off of it and waiting until he hits the bottom. But there is none, all there is- is his best friend, still concerned for his well being, because of course he was. Did he really need another reason? 

Now there was even less reason to be cautious. If he didn’t say something now, the brunette was going to faint, the lights behind his green eyes going out like the flickering flames of a candle. Where he would drop, essentially dead to the world, straight to the floor and live there for eternity. Or until his friend kneeled down and checked on him.

That idea… The thought of waking up to his face. Seeing him tending to him because for his friend, life seemingly depended on it. But he didn’t know that. What he did know was that the thick and uncomfortable quiet that had filled the room; reminiscent of a smog like haze, was becoming unbearable. 

Caution. Wind. Blunt. Do it. He has to. He will explode if he doesn’t. His best friend is staring at him with what feels like baited breath and stitched brows. He looks completely mental, clearly needing to say something, anything really to amend the situation. At this point it doesn’t matter, he’s so gone for him that even if this irreparably damages their relationship, he would at bare minimum be rewarded with getting real sleep at night.

His mouth opens on its own accord, letting the words waterfall out nearly unceremoniously as he keeps eye contact with his friend.

“I’m in love with you.” 

He says it. 

The one fucking word that has been tormenting him for what feels like his entire life. He says it out loud, to his best friend’s face, with a few words before and after it. Sure, he could say that they don’t matter as much to this whole ordeal he got himself into, but truly, they make up the full saying that has been playing on loop on his head for months. 

His friend doesn’t react, not instantly, staring at him with a blinking gaze as either his brain self-destructs, or tries to figure out a way to let him down easy. Heavy doubt sinks into his bones, weighing him down and taking residence within him. 

It’s a new, hellish, spiraling sensation that the brunette was not ready for. He was used to his usual downward hole of thoughts, usually brought about by his unmitigated need to bash himself, but this… This feeling didn’t even compare, with it being so much more destructive and raw, it opened him up like he was a frog being dissected and leaving him vulnerable to the world.

He finally speaks, his words soft and slightly timid as he can’t seem to look away from him. Unlike what he was expecting, his friend's expression was open and understanding, albeit still taken aback by his forwardness.

“I… I love you too.”

[towerfandoms]

You need better music taste

A/n: Ok so this idea is based off a tik tok I saw. It’s where you’re soulmate can hear what you’re singing. And yall know how catchy the yarichin opening is. If you haven’t heard it here it is on YouTube . Anyways this is really dumb but I wrote it at 3am while I was crying over maths so here 😌😌 also I know all the i’s are lowercase, I just have auto caps off on my phone 🤧🤧

Pairings: Oikawa x reader 

Genre: fluff, humour, mostly just crack tbh.

Warnings: very light swearing, Iwa constantly abusing Oikawa

*not my gif*

Nationals were coming up and Oikawa couldn’t get that stupid song ouut of his head. Normally he loved when he could hear you sing. Sometimes he’d even bop along. Lately though, you’ve taken up a new song. You could’ve chosen any other song in the world but no you had to choose the opening for Yarichin Bitch Club. And it didn’t help that the lyrics were so vulgar.

He sighed and shook his head trying to telepathically communicate to you to please shut the hell up but to no avail. He could still hear the cursed boku wa yarichin osodayo~ Damn it, this was so frustrating. He would give anything to finally meet you and tell you to please get some better taste in music. It really didn’t help his performance that this was all you had sung for the past week.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Iwaizumi could see Oikawa visibly struggling and he laughed to himself.

“Is she still singing that stupid song?” he called out, already knowing the answer.

“Yes!” wailed the setter, eager to complain for what felt like the 20th time today. “You know i searched up the lyrics cuz i was curious to see where it was from but now i really wish i hadn’t. I didn’t know my soulmate was into that kind of stuff!”

He shuddered, remembering the memory. He really thought the anime was just about a photography club.

“Just sing a really annoying song back,”

“Don’t you think i’ve tried? I even tried the Gummy Bear song but she just started singing that damn song even more,” he pouted.

“Well, you’ve got to think of something Shittykawa otherwise you’re gonna make us lose our one shot at nationals.”

“Hey! I thought we spoke about the name calling business. And don’t worry i’ll think of something.”

Thankfully by then your singing had stopped though Oikawa could still hear the God awful lyrics. But the lyrics were so catchy that the stupid song still played on replay in his head. Even when you weren’t singing you still consumed his mind. Endearing or annoying, Oikawa couldn’t tell.

After what felt like eternity, he finally finished practice without too much further nuisances so he was able to clean up and go home right on schedule.

However that night he laid awake thinking about you. In a world where you can hear your soulmate singing it shouldn’t be that hard to find out who you were and where you were. There was just a teeny problem though. He was scared. Neither of you had ever tried to contact the other person through singing. He at least knew you lived in their prefecture because you’d always be singing along to the songs from the local radio station.

Oikawa sighed, wondering if you two would ever meet. Maybe not. He was much too preoccupied with volleyball and you were too busy singing your,,, tasteful music.

Suddenly though, an idea hit him that shook him right out of his somber mood.  He quickly grabbed his phone from his bedside table and texted his best friend.

Oikawa: Iwachan, you up?

Iwachan: What do you want Stupidkawa, it’s 2am.

Oikawa: I have a plan to find my soulmate 😌 But I need your help. Meet me in front of A-33 tomorrow at the start of lunch.

Iwachan: Tch. Why do you need me there.

Oikawa: Please, I’d rather die than be seen alone in front of the anime club. What if people think i’m an otaku 🤮

Iwachan: Says the same man who cried watching Banana Fish 🙄🙄

Oikawa: SHUT UP! Just say yes please ;)

Iwachan: 🙄🙄🙄 Only to make sure you turn up to practice on time. Now i’m going to bed 👋

Oikawa: Thank you Iwa~

The next day, Iwa was waiting impatiently for Oikawa in front of the room used for the anime club. He was getting a few odd looks but he didn’t really care. Finally, he saw Oikawa rounding the corner.

“Yahoo~ Iwachan, sorry i’m late,” chuckled Oikawa, not looking the least bit apologetic.

Rolling his eyes, all Hajime replied with was a simple “Whatever, Shittykawa,”

The two men stood awkwardly outside the door unsure what to do.

“So…” began Oikawa, trailing off.

“So? Don’t look at me, she’s your soulmate! Is she still singing?”

“Yeah, she’s been singing for the last ten minutes. It’s rather cute actually.”

Iwwizumi had rolled his eyes so many times by this point he was sure his eyes were going to get stuck. But he wanted to get this over and done with so Oikawa could finally focus on practicing. Taking the lead, he grabbed the handle of the door and slowly turned it as to not startle anyone inside. The two boys took a peek in and were startled to see just you in the club room singing along as you did some work.

You were singing along to the yarichin opening-

“Damn, I didn’t know my soulmate could sing such dirty thin- agh damnit Iwa that hurt!” Oikawa was cut off before he could finish that sentence. However, you were very surprised to see two members of the volleyball team in the anime club. The two best looking at that.

“I- uh, huh?” you started, not really sure what to say.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” stated Oikawa confidently enough, though inside he was extremely nervous.

If iwaizumi wasn’t here he would’ve ran away so fast. He couldn’t help it, you were breath taking. He already loved your voice, but now your face too? Man, he was counting his blessings and praising the Gods above.

“Wait, how- oh.” You simply stated as realization hit you. He had to listen to this song on repeat.

“Damn, didn’t get annoying having to hear this song everyday?” you questioned aloud, your brain still malfunctioning because he was here! Your soulmate was actually here and he didn’t seem to be too mad.

“Oh believe me it did,” he replied deadpan, though not without a mischievous glint in his eyes. “However I did try to combat it by playing Dance Monkeys and Gummy bear  all day.”

“So that was you!” you retorted angrily. “I hope you realize the reason i sang this song all day yesterday was to pay you back for playing that awful song!”

Oikawa only laughed, his heart softening and how cute you looked angry. He had only just met you and already fell in love.

“Yknow, if you’ve got nothing better to do you can always come watch us play volleyball,” he offered with a cheeky smile, vaguely gesturing at the empty room.

“Oh shush you, the other members are out right now. But I guess that means I can come watch you. Let me just gather my stuff though.”

“Alright, alright. We’ll be down in the gym. You can sit on the bleachers and do your homework there. Ok bye bye now!” he quickly said as he was dragged out of the room by Iwaizumi but not before he also said a farewell of his own.

You smiled softly to yourself, feeling your face heat up at the thought of actually meeting your soulmate. He was so cute and funny, even if he could be a dick at times.

Once outside the room, Iwaizumi let go of the death grip he had on Oikawa.

“Happy now?” he asked.

“Very,” was all that Oikawa said though the light spring in his step and stupid grin on his face said all that he felt.

He couldn’t wait to get to know you.

[prettyyyboyluke]

Siren

inspired by this song, this one, and this one too, if it does well, we will turn it into something good ;) but for now, we’ll leave it at this. there will be lots of angst, some violence, and of course smut 

~ 

Siren: In Greek Mythology, each of a number of women or winged creatures whose singing lured unwary sailors onto rocks

The small lights decorating the streets barely did any justice. Everything that surrounded me was pitch black, with the occasional yellow and red lights from crosswalks and stop lights. I don’t understand why Kaileen would pick somewhere that is underground. Literally underground. Since it was such a secret location, you were either walking or you didn't go at all. I could practically rip Kaileen's head off right now if she was next to me. The heels she told me to wear weren’t giving much room for my toes, and I could already feel the blisters and pain in the morning. 

Tonight, I couldn’t pinpoint the exact idea of what I was doing. All I was told that once I got to a red brick wall with the numbers 11, 9, 12, 12, 5, 18 spray painted in black, I was at the right place. Oh, and I guess the most important detail was to tell whoever the security guards were the word, siren. 

This is not the night I was expecting at all. 

~

The wall came into my vision dimly, and I looked over the numbers, once, twice, three times before finally going up to the red rope. The two guards looked at each other before looking at me like I was some kind of lamb going to play in the tiger’s den. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in these streets?” The man, who looked like he could practically step on someone, asked. I looked at him with a dead expression on my face before opening my mouth and speaking, “Siren.” 

That seemed to knock them off their boots. They took the red rope and moved it just enough for me to slip inside. I quickly whipped out my phone to text Kaileen to tell her I was here. 

To: Kaileen Rivers 

I’m here, where are you? 

Read 10:53 pm 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

Go down the stairs and I’m standing by the entrance 

Sent 10:54 pm 

Entrance? I thought I was already here. I rolled my eyes and followed her very vague instructions. The stairs were very narrow, and you could see just how sticky they were. The heels clicked and clacked against the metal until I finally reached the bottom. The room was lit by a red and blue light, some corners were even purple. I saw Kaileen exactly where she said she was, all in her tall, blonde glory. She notices me by the sound of her Louis Vuitton heels she let me borrow. 

“Ryder! I thought I told you to be here at 10:30, missy.” She speaks, reapplying her classic sheer pink lipgloss. 

“Sorry I had to walk a mile in your Louis Vuitton’s! This isn’t something I normally do, Kai.” I sigh. 

“Enough of that! Tonight, we’re going to have a good time, and if that means I make you take shots and drink vodka cran all night, then I’m gonna do it.” She says, pointing her finger at me. 

That’s Kaileen. Kaileen June Rivers, a daredevil, and a somewhat intimidating blonde girl. She was just like Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls, but when you pushed her buttons, she fought back with everything she had. Everyone told me that since she was Bubbles, I was Buttercup. Not giving a shit about what people said, sometimes bitter, and would not hesitate to knock someone out if I had to. We haven’t found our Blossom yet, and I’m not sure we need to. 

I’m Ryder, Ryder Hailey Thompson, to be exact. I like adventure, but I never dared to enter a scene like this. It took the guts that I didn’t have, but Kaileen did. If you ask me what I’m doing on a normal day, I might just say either getting way too high to sit still or go drive to the nearest cliff and watch the world beneath me. 

We met in high school when we got paired to do our Chemistry project. She had the brains, I had the artistry, it was a perfect match. Ever since then, we’ve stuck together like glue. Most of the time she had to drag me to things like this. 

“How did you even find this place?” I ask, following her through the red lighting of the palace. 

“A little birdy told me about it, and I knew we had to come and check it out.” 

As we walked further into the palace, I was met with a beautiful smell of alcohol, sweat, and some type of narcotic I haven’t tried yet. Everyone was dancing, drinking, not having a care in the world. My steps were put to a halt once we were at the bar. Kaileen begins to talk to the bartender, they seem to know each other. I have never seen this man once. 

His hair was a jet black color, and it looked curly. He had sprinkles of tattoos on his arms, bicep, and wrist. He had a contagious laugh and smile. I couldn’t exactly make out the color of his eyes, but they looked like a hazel green from what I could see, with the strobe lights constantly going, it was hard to tell. 

“So, what are we drinking tonight?” He asks. 

Kaileen turns to me, giving me the ‘you need to loosen up’ look. I just shrug, not caring what I’m drinking, as long as it’ll get me to look like the people on the floor. 

“We’ll take two vodka crans, don’t hold back on the vodka.” Kaileen giggles, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ears. And there it is, the shameless flirting. The bartender hands us the drinks and continues to talk with Kaileen. 

I spin around in my seat, watching how the people on the floor looked. It might be weird to some, but I love to people watch. Watch how if they’re carefree, stressed out, or just a go with the flow type of person. I always used to make up stories in my head when I was younger until my mother scolded me for staring at others. 

That’s when I found the person to watch tonight. A tall, tan, tattooed man. He looks carefree, but aware of his surroundings at the same time. I assume the drink he is sipping on is whiskey, considering the shortness of the glass and the brown liquid inside it. We make eye contact for about a minute, which is way too long for two strangers. He gives me a sly smile and starts making his way over. But once he moved, I couldn’t help but stare at the man behind him.  

He looked about the same height, long blonde hair with half it covering his face. He also had tattoos, is there some tattoo memo I’m not getting? The room might be dark, but it looked like a spotlight was on him. It was like everything and everyone around us was floating, except the two of us. I didn’t realize I was practically drooling until Kaileen nudged my arm. 

I look up and see the man who I originally was watching. Okay, thinking that makes me sound like a total creep. 

“You sure got shy, I’m Calum.” The man, Calum, states. 

“I’m Ryder, it’s nice to meet you.” I smile up at Calum. 

I couldn’t help but focus back onto the other man who was standing behind him. We make eye contact, holding it for a few seconds before I break away with a blush creeping onto my cheeks. I look back just one last time to catch a small smirk on his lips. 

“So, tell me, Ryder, what’s gotten you to the palace tonight.” He asks, taking a sip from his drink. 

Before I could even answer, Kaileen jumps right into the conversation. “I decided to take her out, she needs more adventure in her life.” 

I roll my eyes at Kaileen’s response. “I’m plenty adventurous, I’ve just never been into the club scene.” 

“Hate to break it to you, Ryder, but doing shrooms and walking to 7/11 isn’t adventurous.” Kaileen giggles. 

That catches the bartender’s attention. “Shrooms, huh? Have you ever tried acid? Take a tab from Luke, and you’ll wish you felt like that all the time. I’m Ashton by the way.” 

So that’s his name. The conversation about narcotics continues, but I’m not listening one bit. The only thing on my mind right now is that blonde boy on the other side of the club. He was now sitting comfortably on one of the black velvet couches, in what I’m assuming is the V.I.P section. He has another blonde boy next to him. His hair long and curly, a red shirt that was opened down to his chest with a chain around his neck that hung down to his chest. And to my surprise, there were no tattoos, at least that I saw. 

Ashton and Calum seem to notice my stares. With the way my straw was sitting on top of my lips, the hooded look in my eyes, I was in a complete trance. “I’m starting to think you’ve got eyes for someone else, pretty girl,” Calum whispers down to me. 

I look up at him again, his chocolate brown eyes looking down on me. “Sorry, but, who are those guys?” I ask, trying to point across the club discreetly. 

Calum clicks his tongue. He looks over to where the two blondes are sitting, now with multiple girls surrounding them. “You don’t wanna meet those men, Ryder. They’re too, dangerous, for a girl like you.” 

My brows furrow, definitely not liking what he just said. “And how do you know I’m not dangerous, Calum? I could be your worst nightmare.” 

He just chuckles, not taking what I said seriously. “You’re a fiery one, aren’t ya? I like that.” 

“Don’t push her, Calum. That is a battle you will not win.” Kaileen defends. I huff and turn around, trying to push the image out of my head. 

Ashton slides me a shot. I don’t ask, I down it like it’s water. After that shot, I see another vodka cran in front of me, along with two more shots. I chug the drink, hiccuping before grabbing one of the shots and downing it. 

I close my eyes and my head starts to spin. The blue in my eyes becomes invisible as soon as my pupils dilate. With the music beaming throughout the palace, it only makes my head pound harder.

I tap on Kaileen’s shoulder, “I need to pee!” She nods and begins to get up, but I stop her. 

“Ryder, I am not letting you go to the bathroom alone.” She fights back. “It’ll be fine! Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll go and come back, nothing in between.” 

Once I know the direction, I make my way across the sticky floor. I come face to face with a black door and some normal lighting, no more of that red bullshit. I do my business and wash my hands. I take a quick look in the mirror, and I look completely disheveled. I don’t know how since all we’ve done since we got here is sit, drink, and talk. I smooth down my hair, fix the top a little bit before heading out. 

As I’m walking, I carelessly bump into someone, knocking me down onto the sticky floor. 

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going at all.” I apologize before standing up. A hand reaches down, insisting I grab it and pulls me back to my feet. When I finally look up, I see the man sitting next to the one I was looking at. 

His eyes are crystal blue and his teeth pearly white. It feels like I have to strain my neck just to look up at him since he is at least a foot or so taller than me. You can tell that he used to have a piercing in his lip from the tiny hole that was still healing. 

“It’s all right, angel. I don’t know where you were heading, but a girl like you shouldn’t be wandering this place alone.” The way he spoke was cocky. You sir, need an ego check. 

“I-I was just coming back from the bathroom, thought I was sober enough to go alone, but I guess not,” I say.

 He then asks if I’m headed back to the bar, and he walks me there, a hand hovering over my lower back. I mentally slap myself for running into someone as attractive as him. But hey, at least it wasn’t the other one. 

We’re back to the red scenery, the music is still pounding in my head. I point to where I was sitting, Kaileen perched high on the barstool, and he quickly recognizes Calum and Ashton. Once I’m back to my rightful spot next to Kaileen, Calum and Ashton begin talking to the other man. “Luke, this is Kaileen, and the little lady you bumped into, is Ryder.” 

Luke. Well, Luke, you’re a sucker for sore eyes. Wait, is this the Luke that Ashton was telling me about? 

“Ryder, you’ll be happy to know that Luke has any drug you could possibly want. If you’re still up for that acid, he’s got you covered.” Ashton says. I shake my head, not sure if I 100% trust him since Calum was the one to say they’re ‘dangerous’ even if it’s true, I’ll find out for myself. 

~ 

The next morning I wake up with a pounding headache and a large bruise on my thigh. I unplug my phone and adjust my eyes to the brightness. Apple really needs to have a ‘you drank way too much last night’ complimentary mode. And I see I have about four messages from Kaileen. 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

Wake up, Ryder! 

Sent 8:37 am 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

I have tea! Wake tf up! 

Sent 8:40 am 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

Okay, I forget how much you like to 

sleep after a night out, but my god woman

take some advil, chug some water

and get your shit together! 

Sent 8:42 am 

From: Kaileen Rivers

If you’re not up by 10

I will be knocking down your door 

Sent 8:45 am 

And that was the last one before I finally called her. It rings three times before I hear her speak, “Finally! Jesus woman, you need to hold your liquor better.” 

“Excuse me, we all can’t have the tolerance of a fucking mammoth.” I groan into the phone. 

“Alright, I’ll let that slide, but I have tea!” 

“What could you possibly know now, Kai. I swear you’re like a book of secrets growing by the minute.” I mumble. 

“Can you just shut up and let me spill!” Kaileen huffs. I couldn’t see her through the phone, but I know she’s rolling her eyes at me. 

“Okay, okay, what is it?” I asked. 

“You remember Ashton and Luke from last night?”

“The cocky asshole with bright blue eyes that I fell in front of? Yes, I remember.” I sigh, looking at how the nail polish has chipped in various places on my nails. 

“Well, while you were staring at whoever, Ashton asked me on a date, and of course I said yes.” She beings to say. 

“Okay? This doesn’t seem like tea, Kaileen, it just seems like a normal Friday night for you.” 

Yes, Kaileen is the one that all boys fawn over. If you look at her, she is the perfect mixture of an angel and a devil. She’s blonde, she’s pretty, she’s smart, hell even I wanna go out with her. I’m surprised Calum and Luke spoke to me without trying to win her over. 

“Anyways, Luke was eyeing you and he asked if you two could come along, so you, my sweet girl, are coming on a double date with me.” 

I groaned as soon as she finished her sentence. I don’t like the whole dating scene to begin with, after being in a four-year relationship and then just to get your heart ripped out when you thought everything was fine, sucks. 

“Do I have to go? Can you tell Luke I have, like, fucking crabs or something?” I was completely serious when finishing that sentence. 

“Ryder! I will not tell him that, I want you ready by 8:00. So, you go eat, shower, take a nap, and do whatever else you need to do so you’re ready on time.” She demanded. 

“Yes, mom.” 

Great, I expected to spend my day in nothing but sweatpants and ordering pizza while watching reruns of Bob’s Burgers. Now, I have to get dolled up again for this date. Part of me wants to blow the whole thing off, but the other half of me wants to see what’ll happen. I know Kaileen is only doing this because she cares about me, and would kill to see me happy like I was with Andrew. She still resents him to this day. 

Pushing all of those thoughts to the back of my mind, I start brewing some coffee and pull out whatever I find appetizing. I’m now starting to regret Ashton giving me those shots once I take a bite of the toast. Instead of focusing on not throwing my guts up in the kitchen, I focus on the man on that goddamn black velvet couch. If only it were him I bumped into and got this fucking bruise. Oh, who am I kidding, if it were him, I’d die of embarrassment. 

As soon as I’m finished eating, I get a notification. I grab my phone, expecting to see Kaileen’s name across it, but instead, it’s an unknown number. 

From: Unknown 

You’re quite hard to get a hold of, darling. 

Sent 11:02 am 

To: Unknown

Do I know you? You might have the wrong number… 

Read 11:03 am 

From: Unknown 

You should, you were staring at me 

all last night. Has anyone told you 

that it’s rude to stare? 

Sent 11:03 am 

It might be this fucking headache, but if I’m not crazy, this could be the man that I can’t get out of my head. How could he have even gotten my number? None of us even spoke to him! 

From: Unknown 

Be on your best behavior tonight, for Luke. 

I’ll be watching you, and if you want out,

well, you know the code word. 

Sent: 11:06 am 

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

[dolldirector]

Fallen Realm Playlist Masterpost

Big infodump under the read more, if you like my OCs and/or agree with my flawless music taste this should be interdasting

1. MUSE - Thought Contagion

Vampire stuff, punk vibes, a nod to thriller, all of the above fit the mood of a FR show + the song is genuinely very good and I could see it being used on stage easily.

2. PAIN - Call Me

Absolute banger. But that's besides the point. I see this as being the bassist Jez/Jamie's song (with a side of Deuce as the second vocalist). Jez is a fairly quiet lad who generally keeps to himself but I always imagined that he’d be secretly very flirty and cheeky, but would mostly only really express it via music. I actually wrote a lil short story where most of FR's band (minus Rex and Isabella) find themselves in some dive bar after a show, and end up performing in the place of the no-show band that was meant to be there that night. That band ends up being the very same one that kicked Jez out, so it’s a bit of a revenge story for him. This short is on my discord by the by.

3. Emigrate - Eat You Alive

Oh boy, this is a strong one. Basically, just watch this video but pretend that Axl is Richard (the frontman). That’s it. That’s the explanation.

Being serious though, RZK is and always has been a huge influence for Axl's visual design, mannerisms and on-stage behaviours. On top of that, this is 100% the type of music he'd listen to, and the lyrics may as well just be plucked right outta his brain. Are the words meant to be aimed at Valeriya in a threatening way? Or is it a cheeky flirt with Trinity? Both? Neither? We’ll never know.

Also, completely unrelated I’m sure, here’s a wip you may or may not be able to force me to finish on stream via channel points soon...

4. Axel One - Out of the Dark

Can't exactly say much about this one cause it's spoilers, but I will say it's less about the song itself and more about the video, and that it does concern the one FR character who is already dead when the story begins.

5. Lord of the Lost - Raining Stars

Just seems to me like a real good song to perform to. I can imagine seeing acrobatic stunts in slow-mo to this track. That’s it for this one, just “I just think they’re neat”. Gorgeous song and video by an amazing band anyway though.

6. Oomph! - Supernova

Kinda the same deal as the Emigrate song, you can just insert Axl into this one in Dero’s place, along with Jez, Vlad, and Thatch. Once again the style and lyrics fit him perfectly, and this one earns bonus points since Dero is actually Axl's canon voiceclaim - specifically in this era of Oomph!’s music too.

7. Die Kreatur - Kälter als der Tod

At the risk of this thread becoming Oops All Axl TM - AH YES. This one is perfect for the point where Axl finally gets the fuck over himself, and stops being horrible to Vlad because of guitar jealousy, and they become bros.

Realistically, I doubt that Vlad - the clueless human vampire fanatic - will ever realise that Axl is a real actual vampire, but he'd be so glad that they seem to have this ~shared interest~ in them, and he'd by hyped as heck to do a performance like this with his guitar buddy. By the way, Vlad wonders to himself, isn’t it odd that he’s never seen Axl putting his fake fangs in?? Weird

As for the girl on the altar, there are a couple ideas I’ve toyed with. Random audience member for fun. Trinity but Axl gets mad jealous even though he thought and said he wouldn't. (No sharing!! Not even for jokes.) Valeriya but the poor thing is scared to the point of tears because this is just a little too close to a real experience for her and Vlad just can't figure out why. Axl insists she’s just being dramatic. Rex has to rescue her because she’s too shy to put her foot down.

Or perhaps Isabella would wanna join in, but she can't take it seriously and keeps laughing which just causes a chain reaction every time with even Axl cracking a smile. There are like a million cut takes now. Send help.

All in all a fun crossover to think about.

8. Adelitas Way - Still Hungry

This one is just Diesel’s anthem. This is the story of a young punk who can’t stop, won’t stop, never gives up and needs more. Right kinda music for him too.

9. MONO INC. - Shining Light

100% a full-cast song. I feel like the lyrics apply to a number of different things about various members of the circus' backstories, and their found family vibe together - if you think about them in super vague terms, at least. I liked to consider the vocals a duet between Rex and Isabella, being the two singers, but there are a couple lines that are kinda too adult for Bella and would make the duet sorta odd so ehhh 90% of it can be that, let’s say. (This is baring in mind that Isabella is an orphaned minor and Rex is like a father figure for her - as he kinda is for many of the members of the circus)

I also did a doodle of this. This one will also be on the force-me-to-work-on-this-WIP-live pile.

9.5. Lacrimosa - Lichtgestalt a.k.a the original version of Shining Light

Same song, just German and carrying a much darker, creepier tone. It fits in new, fun ways.

10. Oomph! - Viel zu Tief

OOPS ALL AXL TM

Lyrics are very important for this one. Once again, music is the right style, Dero is still his voiceclaim, and Axl actually speaks German in canon (and NO I didn’t do that just so Oomph! songs fit him better, shUT UP)

11. Pet Shop Boys - It’s a Sin

Bit out of left field for this playlist, sure, but with all the controversy and extremely shakey morals in FR's world and with its characters, this one just seems fitting. Plus I'd want em to cover it for a show. Banger.

Honorable mention goes to Ghost’s cover of this song. I don’t even listen to Ghost but my reaction upon finding out this exists was like “lmao yes, of course, why wouldn’t they”.

This song in general I associate instinctively with Vlad, purely because its 80s and campy and I feel like he’d be the type to listen to Ghost.

12. Destiny Potato - Lunatic

Very strongly feel this is a performance song featuring Isabella. This song fits the character - and in particular her tragic backstoryTM pretty well. I’d even go so far as to say the singer would be a pretty good voiceclaim for her if her voice wasn’t meant to be more robotic in canon. This is pretty close to what I imagine, though. Strong n sweet.

13. Nightwish - I Want My Tears Back

One of the first songs I imagined to go well with stage performances. This one for sure would be a duet between Rex and Isabella.

Plus at about 3:10 there's a long solo with a bit of back-and-forth between the guitar and hurdy gurdy (I think?) that I could 100% see Axl and Vlad doing on guitar and keytar respectively.

14. Lord of the Lost - Drag Me To Hell

Yeah this one is just Axl @ his ex

15. Lindemann - Steh Auf!

Bleib nicht liegen, es wär schade - Zirkus ist heut in der Stadt

So, this would be from Isabella’s perspective. Did I mention she was orphaned? Yeah. I guess this one is a little dark.

16. Otetsu & GUMI - Disordered Self-Restraint Girl

The song itself seems to be the story of a child who is trying to coax their parent/guardian into getting up and doing things, not realising that parent had passed away from a drug overdose. Drugs isn’t the way Isabella’s parents died, but the rest of the song fits that part of her backstory imo. Plus, it’s German, and Isabella is German, so yay!

Uh oh, vocaloid.

For a long time I've associated this one with Valeria, and her feelings towards the circus in the early days. After she's accidentally turned by Axl, Val gets effectively kidnapped by FR, taken in before she can even regain consciousness and completely against her will, since it would be incredibly irresponsible of them to just leave a fresh new vampire out in the world so they kinda don't have a choice. While she eventually finds her place and elects to stay after some time has passed, there was a period of time where she definitely would have felt trapped.

This is without even going into the fact that she's now stuck travelling and living with her would-be murderer, and - due to the fact that half of the circus don't even know non-humans exist, let alone what actually happened to Valeria - many of the people around her don't seem to care, or simply do not understand why she's so scared and stressed. It leaves her, at times, feeling like she could be killed tomorrow and nobody would give a shit.

Showtime, katanamochi bunbun furimawashi kubi kara ue hanetobashite mo - ashita ni nareba minna motodoori, waratte yurushite

Translation: Showtime, even if a sword wielder slices my head and makes it fly off, tomorrow everything continues as usual, smiling, forgiving

(Don't worry, in reality Rex, Diesel, and Thatch are there for her & understand the shit she's going through. I promise the folks in the circus do actually care. It's just hard for her to see it in this period of time.)

(There will almost definitely be more songs and doodles added here in the future, but for now that’s all folks!)