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ohmeadows · 11 months ago

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with the experience you have now, what is something you usually do when you feel the creative block so bad that it makes you want to drop all your writing during an indeterminate period of time? (Not considering talking to someone because i don't have friends with the same interests as me)

Lately i have been writing consistently but now i am in a point between the overwhelming need to keep creating and the suffocating need to just stop. the last time this happened not a single word was written in over a year xd

oh and im so in love with your writing btw <3

thank you and i'm sorry to hear you're struggling with a creative block, i know the feeling all too well. (there's a span of years between 2013 and 2016 where i didn't write at all.)

while a little break does do good, i know the threshold to getting back to it becomes so high it feels insurmountable. but it sounds like you need to replenish the well, as i like to call it. think of your writing as a well you draw from, and it needs a steady supply of water to be able to sustain you dipping into it for the power and inspiration to keep going. feeding it involves engaging in texts in a different way. for me, that's reading, and a lot. i sometimes feel so parched i have to steamroll thru ten books before i feel like i have it balanced again.

i've made some posts beforehand on how to approach reading as a writer (wish i'd tagged them better), but it boils down to:

make lists of beautiful words and sentences that you like; could you emulate them? could you write them in your style?

how do the writers pull off the tricks you struggle with? for me this is knowing when to just move the scene along, or how to showcase that time has passed. (i did a whole study on this from my fave books and it boiled down to just writing "A day later/Weeks down the line/Three months passed before she/It didn't take more than forty-five minutes to get across town but it felt like moving backwards through time" which was fun to learn)

just reading for fun. cannot be understated. sometimes you just need to be pulled into a story and feel too dazzled to stop and think to be reminded of how delicious writing feels

and yes, this goes for mangas, comics, scripts, movies, tv shows, even game writing imo (visual novels are great fun for how they do dialogue and emotional appeal).

another thing to not lose touch with the writing as a practice but maybe take a little breather from the project is to start a journal. i like this one a lot personally, there's the concept of morning pages where you get up in the morning and write three pages without stopping or overthinking.

this leads into automatic writing, which is about setting a timer (25 mins is a good one i feel, but even 15-10-5 does wonders) and while it ticks, you have to keep writing. yes, even if all you write is the same word over and over, or your thoughts as they come to you. this is a key component exercise at all writing schools i've ever gone to. personally i like to "guide it" so to speak with a prompt, be it a word (Lust, Rose, Name, Echo) or a full sentence ("She didn't like where this was going.") or an image. what this exercise teaches you is to shorten the distance between hand putting the words down and your thoughts as they process and come to you, as well as embracing writing messy and ugly and shitty because you can always come back and fix a half-assed page, but you can't do anything with a blank one.

third and final thing: movement. go outside. look around. if you can, get moving, take in the surroundings. there's no expectation on you to write anything from this, just let the movement and your thoughts be it. whenever i hit creative rut, i go for a walk. the first half hour my brain is quiet and annoyed. then things start moving in there as well. i'll walk all the way down to the sea and look at the waves and back home and process an idea from it. (i do keep the notes app on my phone readily available for this, but a notebook or receipt or post-it notes also work fine.)

like all art, writing is a practice and the actual act of writing is maybe 20-30% of what it is. nourish the well and it will nourish you back.

+ for what it's worth, i also often try to edge in rest days where i don't write. at least two a week. be gentle and forgiving on yourself.

#ask meadows anything

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freesidexjunkie · 8 months ago

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I want to know more about First Light and the Nathaniel Howe x Cousland fics please!

!!! Bestie you've made my whole morning asking about Nathaniel Howe. I love him dearly and I never get to be feral about him enough 🥺

I'm gonna start with First Light to be in order. First of all, I never looked twice at Rolan til adorabLE fics and characters for him like JUNIPER(!!) started popping up on my dash so thank you for helping indoctrinate me, 10/10 having a great time 💕 I originally wanted to write a scattered Rolanmance story of disconnected chronological scenes to build their story for Nanowrimo, and I had the whole fic plotted out and worked on by late October before school spiraled out of control and the burnout made me think all my words were garbage. The bulk of the story is slotted for act 3 scenes, but I've got a few scenes for act 2 that may or may not have varying levels of spice (we'll see what the characters feel up to ig). I see act 2 as them being relieved to find the other alive and very much getting closer to each other, but terrified to put a name on it in case the worst happens. "Yeah we are inseparable and glued together and if anything happened to him I'd probably lose every last strand of my mind but it's like. lol probably nothing serious right?" Act 3 feels more like finally being able to settle into each other without as much constantly worrying about if they'll even survive this. It's the end of the road for Rolan and it's the most stability Rhiannon has had for weeks, so now's as good a time as any to pursue a real relationship rather than stolen moments. I have plans for them to both awkwardly dance around the topic and hope the other will bring it up first; also for lots of cute teasing, some sibling antics etc. I'm super excited to get into it, but I feel like the Veilguard announcements are making me give myself a deadline for the Solavellan fic first. It's already got a whole notebook dedicated to it tho and plenty written down, so it won't get lost in the shuffle, I promise!!

And for Nathaniel....my sweet precious baby boy who I fell in love with at first sight.... my first DAO playthru ever was human noble, and I was faithfully married to the king of Fereldan but enemies to lovers has been my kryptonite since Jane Austen first got her hooks into me with P&P. I've put a lot of thought into the Cousland I would pair with him. I think the age gap between them in canon is about ~10 years, but fuck it we snip and shape canon to our own whims. Elissa Cousland (I really like the default name and I won't apologize) ~21 and Nathaniel around ~28. The Howes and the Couslands were already very familiar with each other, so Elissa and Delilah (Nate's sister) were inseparable best friends growing up. Elissa very much had a childhood crush on Nathaniel, in the "younger sister's annoying friend" kind of way that was absolutely not reciprocated. When Arl Howe says in the intro "my son was asking about you" she definitely gets major butterflies until she realizes he means Thomas. She definitely asks about Nathaniel but Bryce diplomatically shoos her away since the whole uh. Disowned and cast out thing. Not knowing how much the rest of the family is involved in Howe's betrayal and not being able to reach out to them at all really hurts her. In Awakening she's definitely intimately familiar with the castle as she grew up as a semi permanent fixture there. She doesn't hear much about the rest of the family other than that Thomas died in the blight; she's holding out hope for Delilah and Nathaniel tho. When he shows up spitting venom and letting her know in no uncertain terms that he blames her for everything.....it hurts ngl. But she conscripts him because she cannot be the person to condemn him to death. She absolutely cannot.

From there, finding Delilah alive is kinda the turning point in his anger and hatred. "You better be nice to my best friend" and "so. She's still making puppy dog eyes at you huh." Kinda thing. I have a plan for going to visit Castle Highever to fix a problem and Elissa standing up for him to Fergus, etc etc. I have so many scenes planned that are heavily enemies to lovers and heavily comfort/angst kinda stuff. I swear I'll write it one day. Thank you for letting me ramble about him tho, I owe you a life debt 🥺🥺

#asks #ty Kay you're a gem. you're an absolute godsend and a saint.#Rolan fic #nathaniel howe fic #rhiannon oc #first light fic

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autisticempathydaemon · 2 years ago

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hey hey! idk if this is where I submit for the match up! but I would love to see who you think I'd fit in with! I'm a creative soul who tends to try to develop deep friendships with people above everything. I have a bit of a savior complex as well lol I work hard and play harder, trying to find new adventures to go on with those i care about. I tend to support others before supporting myself, and while im happy to let others open up to me its hard for me to open up in return. the best way i can feel close to someone is deep conversations and being creative with them!

My current fav song has been Maybe IDK by John Bellion, specifically the lyric "i guess if i knew tomorrow i guess i wouldnt need faith" just the idea of living today to the best you can just because you don't know what will happen tomorrow. the worries of the future should keep you down today

My current fav Redacted audio has to be the Helping your Werewolf bf shift again. Specifically the acting is just so good to me. Erik did an amazing job of portraying Milo's anguish and pain at not being able to shift. Plus the relieved sobs at the end is so satisfying and emotional.

The one boy i cant get the hype around is Ivan. like sure the yandere thing is somewhat attractive to some, but i just don't like the idea of an actual psychopath being obsessed with me.

my favorite movie is definitely the Secret Life of Walter Mitty by Ben Stiller. its less of a quotable movie and more of i remember every scene very distinctly. its a movie that envelops my own escapism. its beautifully shot, wonderfully acted, and a wholesome story on a rainy day.

my platonic redacted crush has to be Damien. he seems like a blast to interact with and tease. he's a hard worker and is tied close to his goals which i can admire. i would love to body double with him if i had some tasks to get done

space is also 100% my ramble subject when im sleepy, that and greek mythology

My guilty pleasure media is currently the animated shows Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Lego Monkie Kid. despite being kids shows, both of these are beautifully animated and shockingly well written!

I hope that gives you an idea of me! I look forward to who you think i match with!

Hmm, lots of good tidbits of information to consider. You strike me as really thoughtful, really caring, and I think Lasko could really benefit from a partner like that.

A savior complex, from what I understand, is just wanting to help people and make their lives better, and Lasko’s a guidance counselor, so y’all would have that in common. What’s good about pairing two people like that is y’all could keep each other in line, so to speak. Something that’s important when you’re always looking out for other people is to make sure someone is always looking out for you and vice versa. You and Lasko together would always make sure you’re taking care of others, each other, and yourselves.

Another reason I like the two of you together is that you like being creative with one another as a bonding activity. You know what’s the ultimate way to be creative together? Tabletop role playing games! If you don’t already play, Lasko would be so excited to help you with a character sheet, to help you craft a backstory, paint some mini figurines, go out and buy the perfect game dice and notebooks- the greatest combination of nerdy and cute in a couple.

Song:

There now, steady love, so few come and don't go/ Will you won't you, be the one I always know?/ When I'm losing my control, the city spins around/ You're the only one who knows, you slow it down

One, the whole vibe of “you slow me down, I’ll look after you, we’re here for each other” vibes are exactly what I’m picturing for y’all. Also, Lasko and I are around the same age, and I heard this song a lot growing up. I have some weird, like, emotional resonance with it from childhood, and I think Lasko does too. Like, it makes him nostalgic and longing; maybe he always wanted someone to look after and to look after him, and now he’s finally found that in you.

Runner-Ups:

A very reasonable runner-up for you would be Camelopardalis because he would do a great job making sure you balance work and your personal life and that you don’t put others before yourself too much. A more fun runner-up would be Guy because I love sticking that beautiful Creative Writing major with other beautiful, creative people!

note: thank you for waiting, dear, and I hope you like your match-up! 💕

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #busybee matches #redacted

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danpuff-ao3 · 2 years ago

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The Making of: Orange Blossoms

HP Flowers, Spring Round, 2022. A prompt event with weekly prompt choices inspired by the language of flowers. Of course, I was intrigued! After all: I really love Harry Potter. And I really love flowers. And symbolism. Not to mention this would take place in May, my birth month!! This fandom event seemed tailor made just for me!

Sadly, when I get excited, I get really excited.

And this was all happening in a time period when I was busy. And thus: stressed. And I do not work well under stress.

May 2022 was not only HP Flowers, but also Snarry-a-Thon. Leading up to May, I was pulling out my hair to finish my Snarry-a-Thon fic, Contempt. Not only was I bound and determined to participate in Thon at least once, brilliant me decided it was the perfect time to write the story of my soul. But that's another story (which you can read about here.)

I so had my heart set on writing for HP Flowers. Not just a story in May for HP Flowers, but I had my heart set on posting a Snarry fic for Flowers on my birthday. Which is earlier in the month (the 8th, to be exact.) I was losing hope I'd be able to finish Thon and pop out another fic in time for my birthday. Thon was driving me batty as it was! Surely when I was done I would need a nice, long break from writing.

Fun fact, but I did sneak some of the HP Flowers prompts into Contempt. Week 1, option 4 gave:

4. Ivy- Fidelity or Attachment

If paired with: >> Dahlia- honours a long-lasting relationship OR >> Hellebore- says nothing will ever come between you and your partner

Which directly inspired:

Harry doesn't know exactly where Snape's quarters are, but Snape's name on the map leads him down to the dungeons and a door with no handle. Engravings in the stone, of serpents entwined with ivy and dahlias. No lilies, Harry is pleased to note. A speech bubble appears on the map, helpfully suggesting "hellebore" as a password.

If I couldn't properly write for HP Flowers, I thought that would have to be good enough!

But you're not here to listen to me babble about Contempt yet again. You're here for Orange Blossoms.

Well, I finished and submitted Contempt and there was time left before my birthday. I kept a notebook where I scribbled various ideas. There was plenty I wanted to write for HP Flowers. I had the whole month's prompts written down, going over various combinations and ships and ideas. Above all else, I needed a Snarry, and I needed to write it for May 8.

For Snarry, I was mostly drawn to the Week 1 prompts, though my birthday fell at the start of Week 2. The "ivy" prompt drew me in more than anything, though I dabbled with others. What to do, what to do. I had too many options and too many paths available to me. Few concrete plans.

It was frustrating, not to be swarmed with actual ideas. I'm forever plagued by story ideas, but having to form ideas on command, to fit within a framework? Not my usual style. Only for love of Snarry + flowers was I wracking my brain for any workable idea. C'mon, brain, you can do it! You do this all the time, popping out story ideas!!

It's hard to really lay out a step by step of how it all came together. I made list after list. Threw down Merlin knows how many random thoughts. I stared at the prompt lists. I did Google Image searches for all the flowers. And bit by bit it came together.

It was the language of flowers, after all. How perfectly that lends itself to courtship! And the Week 1 prompt list had an option for: "Use all of the flowers/plants listed above to either celebrate Beltane or to incorporate them in a magical garden." Beltane was too tempting not to include, but it also gave me the idea of looking to the other sabbats, and how to entwine paganism with the Wizarding World.

That birthed The Old Ways; an idea that various pagan traditions began with magical folk, and is part of Wizarding history. And how history and traditions can be sources of structure and comfort. Wartime drove people to marry. (Bill and Fleur, Arthur and Molly; Molly's comments about people eloping "left, right, and center.")

How would it feel to be away from your family, living at school while war rages on outside? A strange sense of safety (being at Hogwarts) while aware of how dark and dangerous the real world (outside of Hogwarts) is. Think of how hard it would be on children and teenagers. Think of how people turn to faith in difficult times; or even find faith in difficult times.

All of this sort of inspired the trend at Hogwarts, of learning about and following The Old Ways.

All of that was background, of course, and my very convenient excuse for love confessions via flowers.

At some point, I had to decide who would be courting who via flowers. If Severus sent them, Harry would need an outsider source (probably Hermione) to point out that "hey, flowers have meaning!" If Harry sent them, well, I can see Severus having floriography knowledge, but Harry would need a valid excuse to start it in the first place (hence the trend.)

There was also a need for secrecy, I think, if Harry was going to do this. He's our bold Gryffindor, remember? In ideal circumstances, he would make his move in other ways. (Though, in fairness, getting through Severus' thick skull is no easy task, whichever way you go.) And isn't it fun for a student/teacher romance, exchanging intimate confessions in whatever method possible? And this is the language of flowers. No letters to be found and studied and traced back to the sender.

I always love a good student/teacher, I won't lie. And there's something quite sweet about Severus being courted. And by a student, no less!

And I do love Severus. And he deserves nice things. Let the man be wooed, dang it!

So, the jumbled mess in my head more or less sorted itself out along the way. "Floriography...courtship...who courts who?...what reason would each have for sending flowers?...Beltane, the Old Ways, traditions and trends...wartime, student/teacher..." At last, I was getting there!

Elsewhere in my notes, I'd had vague ideas of handfasting at Beltane.

And looking at my more solid plan, it occurred to me. The taboo nature of their love, the darkness of the war around them...but the light of their love, and the sweetness in the method...

I often rely on sex to get Snarry together. There is so much explosive passion between them, and so much baggage, so much of who they are as individuals, how others see them, and their complicated and antagonistic history...It takes a lot, I think, for them to see their connection for what it is. To accept it in themselves, let alone revealing it to the other. All of that aggression and intensity unleashing itself in a physical manner. And all of my headcanons about each of them, and their loneliness, and their trauma, and the desire for affection and physical touch. And how much easier it is to communicate via touch. How difficult words can be, how difficult thoughts can be. All this to say, there is a reason for it.

But here, I had a perfectly constructed a scenario excluding touch almost altogether. A time of war, a time of desperation. People being driven by fear, and clinging to what they can. Two men who found love in the most unlikely of places, in an unfortunate time.

It seemed wasteful to bring sex into a situation where it wasn't needed.

So: it's rated T. And I indulged in my more romantic side for this. It's still easier for these two to communicate without actual words, but instead of physical touch, I relied on gift giving. It was a fun change of pace. And I leaned into the language of flowers a lot. I used the HP Flowers prompts, yes, but I also went outside of it, too.

A whole courtship without sex, and hardly talking at all. A whole courtship under the noses of all of Hogwarts. A secret they dared not breathe aloud, even to each other.

I have a lot of feelings about Snarry as a ship. The incredible power of their connection, and their love. How it bleeds into everything. And being able to express that in a whole new way was such a beautiful experience.

So with my plan more or less in place, I began. I used two prompts: Hawthorn (hope) and Ivy (fidelity.) So I opened with flowers.

1. Hawthorn- Hope

If paired with: >> Orange blossom- shows hope that the recipient will return your affection

When I began, I was content to have any Snarry + flowers story. I figured I'd get a drabble out of it, if nothing else. I didn't expect a love story that would bring me to tears. I ended up with a story that was so dear to me. The best birthday gift I could have given myself, truly!

#writing #meta #danpuf writes #orange blossoms #snarry

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quinndelion · 1 year ago

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2023 was a lot.

I can't say I learned anything I didn't already know. I think it was just filled with a lot of disapointment really, and that's sort of the thing that comes with life. That's nothing new. I don't think I was wishing for anything in particular this year. Or maybe I was and I've just forgotten it now. I lose all of my memories to time. I think maybe in 2024 I should start to write my memories down in a notebook or something so I don't continue this cycle I have of forgetting everything that's happened to me.

I started this year in the hospital because I had lost all of my will to live. I seriously think I went insane or something because I went from having something to nothing and apparently nothing was too much but also not enough. If I think back really hard I can remember the food I ate when I was there. I would have the same exact thing every single day. A cheese pizza (it always came in a circle form with it cut into 4s) with extra parmasan, kraft mac and cheese and mashed potato on the side. Sometimes I'd have fruit punch or apple juice or lemonade. On the very last day I got sick of it and got a buger instead, and I only ate a few bites before I had to leave. I met a lot of people there. Some older than me, some younger, all with stories I had never heard. None of us had really wanted to be there, but I can recall so many times where we laughed. We wanted so badly to stay up past curfew and talk to eachother, so we just sat by the doors with our pillows to cheat out way out of it. I was room 13. We could change the color of our room lights. The boy next to me, his lights were always green, and he had been there so long he had pictures of his family on the wall, and album covers he had gotten printed out. My room was a complete mess. My lights were always off. We would sit by the window and look at all the cars below with people, and wonder when it would be us in those cars, leaving that place, becoming normal people again. Then we'd go to bed.

I remember thinking when I left, "I will never see any of you people again." It was sort of painful and relieving at the same time. I think about the boy, in the room next to mine, the most. He changed my vocabulary. His story changed my life. I wonder if he ever made it out of there. I wonder if he remembers the signs I taught him. I will never see him again. I will never see him again.

I got out of the hospital 2 weeks later. I went back to school. I did everything the same as I always did. I never told anyone where I had been. I never told anyone about room 13. I think this is the first time I've ever told anyone about what it was like. It doesn't really feel like anything. I guess it's nice to know that if I ever forget what it's like, it'll be here, written in a tumblr post.

I think I want to thank Mark and Kyon especially, because admitedly drawing comics really helped me through a lot of tough things I went through this year. I don't think they understood the gravity of how much it meant to me. I always got the notion that because I am so passionate and I get super into things that people think I'm odd or strange, but they never made me feel like I was odd or strange. It's why I had the confidence to continue doing fan art, or to give my opinion on things, even if I thought it was embarrasing. I'm really thankful for them, and I hope they have a great new year.

I'd like to leave everything that happened to me this year behind. I don't want to forget it, and I don't want it to disappear, but I want it to stay here where it happened, so I can truly and authenthically move on. My last piece for 2023 was a simple drawing of myself holding a sparkler. It's simple. This year I started out with no spark, and now I have one.

In 2024 I'd like to choose love.

#long post

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andswarwrites · 2 years ago

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Day 25

I haven't written a poem in ages. When I was a kid I discovered some beautiful poems which my mother had written, and I was inspired to imitate her and write a few of my own. I showed them to my English teacher and she said I reminded her of A.A. Milne. As I grew up, my poetry did not remain light and fluffy. Poetry became an outlet for turbulence, turmoil and dark thoughts. And then when I started to fall in love, I wrote several poems on that topic. I compiled them in a book which I gave to S- as a wedding present.

Years later, I went through a period of inner turmoil that twisted and turned me this way and that, and the only way for me to truly express what I was feeling was in verse. It was as if my thoughts and emotions were so heavy and overwhelming, I couldn't face them directly, I had to approach them from an angle, but with every poem I would express a small piece of truth, and get closer to digging deep down to the root of my problem. Poetry was a vital outlet during that time.

I never forced a poem. The first line would pop into my head and I would look around frantically for something to write with and on, and then I'd scrawl it out in a burst. Just like drawing, poetry is an outlet I miss. I haven't given up hope, however. I hope that one day when I'm in the right frame of mind, I'll take up poetry and traditional artwork again. Knowing how much both have helped me out in the past, to vent pent up emotion, to express what I couldn't otherwise say, I'm sure when they are needed I'll be able to turn to them, like trusted friends.

Have you ever sung along to a song with lyrics that touched your heart so deeply they made you cry? There's something about that momentary release of tension. And at times, when you're feeling low, and you put on a playlist of jaunty, happy tunes, it lifts you up out of your funk. To me, lyrics are poems that happen to have found their soul mates in the melodies they accompany. At times, the lyrics to a song have unlocked grief that I'd bottled up inside me and let it pour out in a cascade of tears.

Tears do not come easily to me. Like I said, I bottle things up. I've heard that others can have a "good cry" and after that they feel better; I envy that ability. I'll have a few tears prickle my eyes now and then, but really letting them flow does not happen often. You know what reduces me to a sobbing, weeping mess? Fiction. Fictional stories in a sad song, or book or movie. Thanks to fiction I can take all that I have bottled up and cry over it obliquely.

What I used to bottle up the most was fear. Fear of loss, fear of reprisal, fear of making mistakes, fear of disaster: I was very good at building mental scenarios and living them vividly in my mind, reducing myself to a quaking wreck. I still have thoughts pop into my head, imagining how I would feel if such and such a thing happened. I refuse to dwell on that. Even if it's a very realistic possibility, I put it out of my mind, telling myself I will deal with it if and when it happens, not before.

I refuse to mar a day of happiness and tranquility with the fear that I will lose it tomorrow. So now what I have bottled up inside me is mainly what life has thrown at me up until this point. I've processed most of it, to be honest. Through the written word, either by writing it or reading it, confiding in close friends, shouting/singing along to songs; I've been moved to the tears that I've needed to shed. If I wrote in a notebook instead of at a keyboard, there would be tear-stained pages for sure.

Five years ago I started having a scary sensation. It felt like my brain was on fire. This heat would travel around my scalp. I asked my psychiatrist about it and he didn't know what it was. I've figured out, from analyzing it on my own, that it is some kind of stress response. When I get anxious, not even consciously anxious, but when a great amount of pressure and strain persist, this strange pain floods my head. I don't panic when I feel it, instead I make a note of it, and do my best to calm down.

If S- or N- is home, I approach one of them and explain that I need a hug. If I'm all alone I take a deep, shuddering breath, and I often start to pray. Sometimes I'm not even capable of putting thoughts into words, so the prayer may only be a brief cry for help. The hot searing pain never lasts long. It's a physical manifestation of some sort of pressure, some sort of impossible load and weight, that I cannot deal with on my own. It's so incredibly important to be willing to ask for help.

Whether it's a poem, a story, a drawing, a painting on a miniature, a song: in our household something new is made every day by one, two or all three of us. We need this creativity as a means of self-expression, to deal with stress, or both. Creative gifts are amazing because they are not only a gift to the person who is making art, they are a gift to those we share the art with. When we put a piece of ourselves in what we created, and that piece speaks to others, it is an incomparable feeling.

#creativity #poetry #self expression #personal

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standbowed · 1 year ago

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Hachi lifts the offered pot conjured from nothing (which is still something of a shock to watch happen, but Hachi is steadily growing more accustomed to these odd sights in Morioh) gently from Hikari's hands and finds herself leaning forward in rapt attention as the woman explains the starter-plant's versatility, her own mind supplying picture-perfect daydream full of dishes with the herb featuring prominently as ingredient or garnish, but snaps back to attention once the woman gets to the care instructions--right! That's important!

Shuffling the pot securely into the crook of her arm, Hachi hastily digs through her schoolbag to pull out a notebook and pen, jotting the information down beside some sloppily-solved math problems from earlier. She drops the book back into her bag when it seems like Hikari is done with her explanation--leaving no question from Hachi unanswered, and before she can even voice them, too! She turns her eyes back to Hikari to tell her so and is struck immediately by the obvious love and respect the woman has for her craft, written all over her expression.

"That's--really amazing…! I don't have anything I'm that passionate about, so it's really cool to hear people who know a lot about their field… really, thanks so much. I think I learned a lot!" Hachi gestures animatedly with her free hand, smile wide and eyes bright with admiration. She hesitates for a moment, then blurts, painfully earnest: "Um, you can really tell! That you care so deeply for your work, I mean. The plants here seem so… um, happy...?" Hachi puts a hand to her face and breathes a wistful sigh, motor-mouth running off before she can think to stop it. "Actually, when I was looking at the jasmine the other day on my way home, I found myself thinking 'gosh, if I was a little fairy I'd love to curl up in there'--"

She cuts herself off there, face reddening and eyes snapping back open, and explains (alongside a frantic series of sheepish gestures): "Er, not that I think those are real! But it gave off that storybook-like feeling, I guess…" She shakes her head, as if to dispel any silly, lingering daydreams about garden fairies in the hedges, words losing steam as she grounds herself back in reality. "At any rate! I'll do my best to follow the instructions you gave me. For the basil..."

"I promise, its a lot easier t'take care've a plant than you'd think! Easier than a dog or a cat, I'd say." A lot of plants did require specialized care, sure, but stuff like a potted ficus or maybe something as simple as an herb garden would work out... As Hikari thought about it, she vaguely saw Hachi's face scrunch a few times. She was about to ask if she was alright, but the kid was quick on the rebound, so Hikari closed her slightly open-to-speak mouth and instead grinned.

She puts her hands together, forming a tiny, wooden pot with irrigation holes in the bottom. An idle hand roots around in a nearby soil bag, scooping a handful inside and packing it loose enough to where roots could tunnel, but tight enough so it wouldn't just fall out the bottom. When Hikari returns to Hachi, she holds out the pot with a small basil plant inside.

"Well, it ain't no orchid, but this should be good t'start with. Its hardy, y'can snip off the leaves t'put in a sauce'r soup... it's good in ramen, if y'can find garlic oil t'pair with it, too. Them books prolly made y'worry 'bout stuff like climate an 'full sun' an' zones, right? Y'won't gotta worry 'bout that with this li'l guy, promise. One inch've water a week, an' place it on the windowsill that gets the best mornin' sunshine with a li'l dish underneath t'catch water runoff. Harvest as y'need it."

At Hachi's question, she just looks to the side at the hedge and smiles fondly. "I tend t'Morioh's landscape, a garden in m'backyard, an' the garden in the middle've the Foundation courtyard. It's... m'greatest passion, carin' fer things unique an' alive. That ol' sayin', 'do a job y'love, an' y'never work a day in yer life', is, uh... It don't apply to everybody. But I like it, 'cause... 'cause I feel the same way!"

#ic.#rp.#PRETEND THIS ISNT FROM MONTHS AGO IM SO SORRY..................... i love them #caestusvulpes #hachi thinks hikari is just the coolest tbh

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patrophthia · 2 years ago

Text

willow | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff fluff flufff, just people being happy and shit, so fluffy i feel like poop for writing it while im single (when is it my turn to be happy) not beta read

word count: 3.8K

originally posted on my wattpad

— from bee: this takes place in sycamore girl timeline!

"i'm not giving it to you, of course," she remarked, voice straining. "i'm only lending it to you."

"i know," he said all too quickly, making her normally extroverted demeanor (when it came to him, at least) falter. "i promise i won't steal it."

she laughed awkwardly, trying to ease any tension off of her shoulder. "you better not, i've only got one copy of it."

"then i'll buy you a million more." he promised, then smiled, adding, "if i happen to lose it, of course."

regulus didn't think to lift his head up when someone sat down besides him. the class was about to start, there was only a limited amount of seats so, really, he couldn't have cared less about whoever decided to sit to his right. he had more important things on his hand —like whether the characters in the book he was reading will end up with one another or continue to beat around the bush.

as he was about to reach the good part, the professor clapped his hands, starting the class. regulus shut his book, intending to put it into his bag when he looked to the side. there she sat, talking to her friend who was on the other side of her as she pulled out her quill and ink.

class began, neither of them starting conversation since it wasn't needed. every once in a while she would mutter something low under her breath, her eyes narrowing on the blackboard before she turned to him and cleared her throat, asking if the words on the board was what she thought it was and he would help before they went back to what they were doing.

"hey, is canada real?"

regulus turned to her with an incredulous look, brows knitted together trying to gauge whether she was joking or not. finally, he answered. "no."

"thanks," she replied with a smile, and turned back to what she had been doing.

the professor then began droning on about the lesson —one that regulus knew through and through, solely because, the book he was reading (a romance though he would never say it out loud) was a modern retelling of the event they were learning. he shut his notebook, pulling out the novel he was reading previously and continued where he left off.

it wasn't long before she finished as well, shutting her book and trying to tune into the lesson but only to feel as though she was being lull to sleep. to her left was regulus black, sitting handsomely as he always did with a hard cover novel (the dust jacket of it removed) in his elegantly pale hands.

the spine didn't hide the title of the novel though. false god, it read. she smiled knowingly at this. the book was about two sorcerers playing lovers when they despised one another, an enemies to lovers romance.

"heaven is when you touch me and hell is when i fight with you," i confessed, staring into her dark brown eyes. "but i can't help but feel as if we're being led by blind faith."

salazar, this novel is sickeningly sweet.

"i know that look."

regulus brows tightened slightly, tuning into her voice besides him and yet, not giving her his full attention.

"they confessed to her, didn't they?"

the slytherin looked over his book, peeking at her to find her smiling at him. clearing his throat, regulus asked, "you've read this?"

"yup," she said quietly, not wanting to be caught by the professor. "it's written by one of my favorite authors so i kind of had to."

regulus tilted his head slightly. "how'd you know what part i was at?"

"i had that same look on my face when i read it."

had she been watching him read? "oh." he let out, there was a pause before he spoke up again. "did they ever end up together?"

"if i told you that, i'd be spoiling you." she pulled out a piece of paper from her book and began drawing out lines before turning them into small boxes, pushing the parchment to the middle of the table, she looked up at him with a sheepish smile. "how about a game of tic tac toe instead?"

somewhere along the lines of tic tac toes and [name] ranting about the recent novels she'd read before lending it to him, regulus became quite fond of her. he had found himself —more often then not— missing her presence when he was with any of his other 'friends.'

it also didn't help that whenever she flirted with him —something he knew she did because, she liked seeing him get flustered after she said something mildly suggestive to him. he had always thought she was pretty ever since he'd first met her in first year (it was hard not to notice someone when you shared classes with them) but it had never been something that stuck as prominently in his mind as it did now.

the news of one of the black brother being engaged spread like wild fire at hogwarts, everyone ��and he meant everyone— began bothering him non-stop. wanting to know if they could get an invite to the wedding (the answer to which he always said no to.)

today had been no different, every single person he'd encountered had asked for an invitation. he was tired of it and if anything he longed for the next class he had. the one he had with her. the one where she sat next to him and talked to him about anything but the lesson or the dreaded wedding.

she got to class five minutes later than him like she always did and smiled the second she spotted him, there was a skip in her step as she made her way over. "i just found the best novel ever."

regulus lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curving upwards, giving her his full attention.

"right so the novel is called seven, it's written by the same author who wrote false god," she started, eyes drifting towards the door once a while to make sure that the professor wasn't there. "it's about two childhood friends who was separated when they were seven due to family issues from the guys' part. it's so beautiful, regulus. you'll love it."

regulus. they way it sounded so soft coming from her lips had him feeling things he'd never felt before. he would never tire hearing her say his name.

there was a content look on his face, listening and listening as she brought the fore mentioned novel from her bag and handed it to him. "i even annotated it for you. the pink are for the lines that i loved and the green is for the lines i think you'd love 'cause you're a slytherin and all."

he took it in his hand, eyeing it carefully. he flipped the cover over, seeing her hand writings scattered all around it —some of it being her gushing over the characters. he looked back to her, grey eyes going blue with affection.

"i'm not giving it to you, of course," she remarked, voice straining. "i'm only lending it to you."

"i know," he said all too quickly, making her normally extroverted demeanor (when it came to him, at least) falter. "i promise i won't steal it."

she laughed awkwardly, trying to ease any tension off of her shoulder. "you better not, i've only got one copy of it."

"then i'll buy you a million more." he promised, then smiled, adding, "if i happen to lose it, of course."

" 'course."

as he turned to his side, planning on placing the novel into his bag so he wouldn't misplace it. she called out. "hey reg."

reg. regulus noted. that was a new one. he liked it, he really did like it. he let out a hum of indifferent acknowledgment, not yet facing her as he tried not to show just how much the nickname had effected him.

"would you like to go out this weekend?" there was short second of silence, it wasn't long until she picked up once more. "like on a date?"

before he could even stop himself, he blurted out. "i have plans tomorrow."

"oh."

regulus couldn't help but feel like he was being stabbed in the chest by how deflated she sound. he didn't spare a second when he turned to face her, not wanting to drown in his own guilt. "but yes."

"yes?" she repeated unsurely.

"yes," he concurred. "i'd love to go out with you —on a date. what seems to be the problem is that i have plans to meet up with dear brother's and his fiancée, and i don't want you to spend your weekend waiting for me—"

"reg, i'm perfectly fine with waiting." she cut him off. "although, you nearly made me cry with your 'i have plans tomorrow' i thought you were rejecting me."

"i would never reject you." how could he? not when he had been waiting for something between them to happen for the longest time.

•••

sirius and his fiancée bid their goodbyes with knowing smile, leaving him be as [name] made her way over to him. the booth was pretty much empty with him being the only one sat there, cheeks tinted pink as he waited for her to be seated down.

she took the one opposing him, smiling at him prettily. "you look nice."

"i look nothing compared to you," he countered almost shyly. and then, clearing his throat, regulus asked her, "where'd you want to go?"

"i was going to ask you that," she replied, feeling small under his gaze. "should we just walk around until we figure out what we want to do?"

regulus smiled at that. and with a nod of his head; he stood up, standing awkwardly besides their table. she stood up as well and as they made their way out, she stopped, buying two bottles of butter-beer for them to enjoy whilst they made their way to the next location.

hogsmeade wasn't as pack as he had expected it to be. sure, they were hundreds of teenagers around his age walking around with thick scarves signifying their houses colors walking around but, —unlike every other time he'd been to hogsmeade during the weekends— he could still see the road before him rather than it being a field of hair.

he turned to the side, intending to look at her only to find her already watching him. "where do we go from here? left or right?"

regulus thought about it for a second. no matter where they went, he'd still be happy, he was with her and that would be good enough for him.

"your choice."

the date went as well as he could've imagined it to. regulus followed after everywhere she strayed, smiling and giggling brightly at whatever caught her attention. and by the end of the night, regulus had walked her back to her common room and (with all his inner gryffindor courage) kissed her good night.

he'd turned his back at the speed of light right after, hiding just how truly giddy and flustered he'd felt. fuck. regulus black might be in love.

•••

march rolled around, along with it came both remus lupin and james potter's birthday. both of which, the marauders had threw parties for and both of which, regulus had been invited to.

lupin's party was fun; regulus had enjoyed it to bits, it was a small party with those only in the marauder's close circle invited to. potter's party was the exact opposite, loud music and booze could be seen every he turned.

regulus had been waiting for his girlfriend when he spotted sirius' fiancée and her friends come in. he'd join in on their teasing about sirius' (not) crush on his fiancée and quickly caught onto how his dear brother's attitude change when he found out that she was a light weight.

"don't worry darling, i know how to have fun without getting drunk." whipped.

it was clear that sirius was staying sober for his fiancée (that he definitely didn't have romantic feelings for) if it wasn't clear by how he had kept his eyes on her the entire night, then it was extremely clear when james —the reason he'd said he'd stay sober for, asked for his help and all he did was tell him to sod off and went to her aid.

the man was in love and he didn't even know it.

when [name], regulus' favorite person, arrived, he'd had to tear his eyes away from her just so he could converse with other people at the party. she looked so beautiful and he was so, so, so lucky to have her be his girlfriend.

"what are you looking at?"

"you," he answered slyly. did someone spike the punch? why is his words flowing out so easily? what is this. "you're the prettiest girl, i've ever seen."

there was a look on her face, somewhere between shying off and laughing at his words. he'd always said nice things to her, things that made her weak in the knees and completely drunk off of him.

but something, something about him being slightly intoxicated and gushing about how gorgeous he thought she was, made her feel dizzy (all in the good way, of course).

"my love," regulus called out after a moment, grabbing her attention. "would you come to my brother's wedding?"

"as your date?"

"of course, as my date. as if i'll ever let you out of my sight," he replied, words slurring the tiniest bit.

she cracked out a winsome smile, nodding. "of course, i will."

•••

the wedding day came soon enough and sirius made it clear, very clear, so clear that if anyone dared to go against his wishes he would personally hunt them down himself. that everyone he cared for —including regulus himself— would have to get ready at the potter's house because, it is where he'd be and he would need the emotional support to go through this.

the women took over a side of the house, getting all dolled up with the help of one another while the men made snacks and gave sirius pep talks. regulus was sat next to lupin, both chewing on the snacks that potter had prepared and listened to sirius bugger longbottom with as many questions as he could.

longbottom always answered, being the only married man in the friend group made him the most suitable source for answers to sirius' inquiries.

"but isn't scary?" sirius questioned, brows knitting together as james fixed up his bow tie. "sharing everything with one another."

"not really," longbottom answered carefully. "it's scary at first, yes, but after a while it's a very comforting thing. knowing that you can share your inner thoughts with your lover and not be judged."

"but she's not my lover." sirius frowned. "we're just friends."

"then it makes no difference," longbottom said with a small smile. "i was friends with alice before we were a couple —not that i'm trying to force anything between you two of course. what i'm trying to say is, if james is a friend to you and you could share anything with him then you can definitely share everything with her."

"you're not getting cold feet are you?" regulus asked, his tone slightly teasing.

sirius turned to him, his face unreadable. "of course, not. i could never do that to her, not when she's been nothing but lovely about all this."

"not when you think she's so pretty," lupin chirped in lazily.

"that's because, she is."

"sure, she is," remus murmured, making sirius turned to him sharply. remus clicked his tongue, the corner of his lips edging upward. "i never said she wasn't."

"you didn't, but your tone was patronizing." sirius smacked potter's hands away, making him scowl as he backed away. "and quite frankly, i don't appreciate my wife being spoken about in that tone of voice."

"my wife." potter repeated loudly. "are you sure you're not in love with her?"

"what makes you think otherwise?"

"i dunno," potter said stupidly, "maybe because of the way you talk about her."

"or the way you look at her," lupin added. "we could go on for days, mate."

"do you lots hate me or something?" sirius grumbled. "you're always teaming up against me, is it funny to you?"

"it is." came a more feminine voice. the men turn, all finding their dates (except sirius) standing by the door way. "it's the most comical thing ever to hear you deny your love for your fiancée."

"i hate you guys," sirius grumbled. lily and sirius continued on with their banter, but regulus was no longer listening, finding himself too awestruck at the sight of his girlfriend.

she stood besides mckinnon, donning the prettiest he'd ever seen. she smiled upon feeling his gaze on her, an action that made regulus want to do nothing but kiss her until she was breathless. instead, he stood up from his spot and made his way over to her.

"you look handsome," she commented once they stood toe to toe. of course, he did (not that he was trying to be conceited). he made sure he looked as best as he could if he would be having someone as beautiful as her in his arms.

"thank you," regulus said softly, eyes kept on her as he spoke. no words will be able to explain just how divine she looked. and so, regulus chalked it up to a simple compliment. "you look lovely."

"i try to, for you."

bullshit. even if she wasn't trying —and he knew this for certain from all the previous time he'd spent with her; bundled up in her dorm with bags under their eyes as they hovered over her desk and conversed about their projects, heads on the pillow once they wrapped up, looking as though they were on their dying breath— she'd still look lovely.

•••

the start of regulus' seventh years went as well as he hoped. sure, he was drowning in assignments during the first week of classes but he had a girlfriend. and that makes up about seventy percent of it.

he'd grown accustomed to having meals with her by his side so it was no surprise when he was the first thing she found when she made her way into the great hall with a letter in hand.

"guess what," she started up excitedly, taking the seat opposing his. regulus supplied her with a what? encouraging her on. "i got an owl last night."

"who's it from?"

"just your sister in law," she said as casually as she could but the enthusiasm was not lost in her voice. "would you like to know why?"

"yes." he humored her, filling her goblet up with water. "i would like to know why, please."

"well." she placed the opened up the letter and placed it down. "sirius confessed in an overly dramatic way about whether she loved you more than she loved him, long story short they ended kissing. moral of the story, our favorite couple is no longer getting a divorce."

"i could write a romance book about that."

"please don't," regulus murmured, reading the letter for himself. sure enough, there —written in ink— was the details of the said confession and how they would not be going through with their divorce as they try to navigate their new relationship. "oh no."

"oh no?" she repeated, tone drastically different from his.

"oh no," he said once more, as if agreeing to something. "sirius talked about adopting me, if they stayed married that might just happen."

"that's stupid, regulus. she would never agree to that."

"you underestimate just how persuasive sirius can be, my love." he took a sip from his mug, his tea now cold. "he managed to convince her into marrying someone as horrid as him, adoption won't be as hard."

"you say that like he's the worst man to ever exist." he gave her look. one that was practically asking her if she was testing him. "besides, she married him for the money. she won't get anything out of adopting you."

"yes, she would."

"and what would that be?" she asked, mildly uninterested.

"me."

"and that's a good thing?"

regulus mouth dropped into a small O. the black had always had a flair for the dramatics and he was no exception. "yes," he said with full offense. "how could you ever think otherwise. i'm your boyfriend."

"i just—" she shrugged. "—you're not all that."

regulus was gasping now, eyes full with hurt. "i don't think i want to be with you anymore."

"is that so?"

"no." he denied with annoyance.

the grandfather clock rang, signaling the start off class and the pair stood up. regulus standing besides her as he waited for her to pack up her stuff.

the couple shared their first class, so it was obvious for them to walk with one another. once arriving, regulus headed towards the middle table; not too far away and not too close to the professor. he sat first, tapping the empty seat that was by his side for her to take.

she took it, smiling when her friends took to the table in front of them and began conversations with one another. class soon began, the professor droning on about the lessons when regulus found himself in a position he'd never been in before.

her hand was dropped to the side and he'd never wanted to hold something as much as he did now. he was practically begging for her to take his hand but he was too prideful to admit it.

"it's rude to stare," she said quietly, and regulus was distinctly reminded of their first encounter. same classroom, same seats. how history repeats itself never fails to amaze him. "even if you're staring at their hand."

he teared his eyes away, playing oblivious. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"right," she murmured as if she believed him. "did you want to hold my hand?"

"yes."

she took his hand at his answer, intertwining their fingers and placing it comfortably on her thigh before she turned back to the lesson.

time will age as will the both of them, and despite how greedy and selfish it may sound. regulus hoped it would never remove the memory of her smile when he'd first saw her.

life was a willow and it bent right through her wind.

#regulus x yn #regulus x you #regulus x reader #regulus black humor #regulus black fluff #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x yn #marauders era x reader #🧳: my writing

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kusaka6e · 3 years ago

Text

TUTOR

two | three | four

chapter list

———

you'd been at the library for about an hour, doing homework for your other classes while you waited for 4:30 to hit.

someone dramatically sitting in the chair across from you makes you jump, pulling one of your earbuds out.

baji is sitting in front of you, slamming a notebook down onto the table.

"did you have to make such an entrance?"

"didn’t wanna be late.”

"i didn't know you cared about being on time."

he scoffs at your comment, pulling out a pencil.

"what are you doing in chem right now?"

"i have no fucking clue." he replies blankly

you choke back a laugh at the deadpan look on his face, knowing he's being completely serious.

"you have any notes to look at?" he shakes his head, making you roll your eyes.

"no wonder you're failing, you don't have anything to study with."

"my teacher talks too fast for me to write anything down! and he just talks to us like we're stupid if we ask questions." he crossed his arms over his chest, angrily furrowing his eyebrows.

"i can look in my dorm and see if i still have my notes from last semester, you can have them if i do."

"really?"

"i've already taken all the chemistry classes i need for my major, it's not like i have any use for them."

"so what happens until you find them?"

"you can't think of one thing your teacher talked about? or have any exam you've already taken, or something?"

he clicks a few times on his laptop, face scrunching with concentration as he scrolls.

"here's this." he turns the screen towards you, a triumphant smile on his face. a '35/100' is in large numbers next to the assignment name.

"damn. looks like i've got my work cut out for me."

"shut up!"

he searches through his surprisingly organized notebook, pulling out a few sheets of paper from a divider.

"this is the written work."

"give me a second." you look over the problems, analyzing his work and where he went wrong. his handwriting was a little wild, but to your surprise he was pretty detailed in writing out his calculations, which made it easier for you to explain his errors.

"so, you got all the numbers right on these but you have to mind your sig figs."

"what the fuck is a sig fig?"

"significant figures. in chemistry calculations, you have to be really accurate. sig figs are like a set of rules to keep numbers accurate."

"how is that any different from just using a calculator?"

you flip to an empty page in his notebook, making a small title to write about significant figures.

he watches as you scribble down the notes, your eyebrows creeping together with focus.

why is my chest tingling ?

ew this is weird

"so, every time you do a calculation you have to follow these rules with your answer."

"so, even though this is what the calculator says, that's not the whole answer."

"right, it starts with two zeros and those don't count."

it takes about a half an hour, but he's eventually able to get through a set of problems without error.

"good job."

"i did it! i'm the best chemistry student the world has ever seen!" he dramatically flexed his arms, proudly grinning

"you sure about that?"

"of course i am."

"okay, show me how to do dimensional analysis." his face pales, smile dropping. you let out a chuckle, turning to a fresh page in the notebook

"you couldn't just let me have my moment?"

"not until you don't need my help anymore."

two hours pass, and you've covered a good amount of information. you could tell as hard as he was trying, baji was quickly losing focus.

"okay, let's call it a night."

"finally." he breathed out, tossing his pencil on the table.

"damn, i didn't know you were that excited to get away from me."

"if you come near me with any more chemistry stuff right now, i might punch you."

"i'd like to see you try." you raise a brow, making him smirk.

"you’re a lot more dense than i thought, but i think you’ll be able to pass. the fact that you actually care so much helps.”

"don't call me dense, i don't know what it means." you burst out into laughter, making him roll his eyes before he lets out a chuckle.

"just because im in toman doesn't mean i don't care about school. we're all humans too, we don't eat sleep and breathe fighting."

"i never said you guys aren't human. but it's nice that you care about your grades."

"well don't make me out to be some softie!"

"i'll see you later baji." you roll your eyes, waving as you head for your dorm.

you open the door, hanging your keys on the wall hook.

"how was tutoring?"

you whirl around, seeing emma, draken, and mikey sitting on your floor with uno cards in their hands.

"how the hell did you guys get in here?!"

"picked the lock." mikey grinned

"you’re all insane."

"i'm surprised you both made it out alive." emma giggled

"he’s even dumber than i thought, but he’ll be fine.”

“baji might seem like an idiot, but he’ll surprise you.” draken doesn't look up from placing down a draw four, making mikey's jaw drop.

"kenny! this is betrayal!"

"you hit me with draw fours three times in a row last round, get over it."

you grin at their banter, mikey dramatically whining about draken breaking his heart.

"deal me in next round, i'll destroy you losers."

"you're on." emma grins, grabbing the stack of cards.

as the next round begins and you're looking over your cards, your phone buzzes.

unknown

today, 7:32 pm

hey

can we meet agn tmw

hey baji

more questions already?

i'm still at the lirbary

libary

LIBRARY

i was looking at the notes u rote and i got lost

same time tomorrow

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev fluff #mikey tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo rev x y/n #baji fanfic #baji fic #baji x reader #keisuke baji #baji keisuke #baji

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myfavoriteinvestment · 3 years ago

Text

rowaelin month day 1 - can’t help falling in love

prompt: "I just realized I'm desperately in love with you"

Meeting Aelin for the first time, Rowan begrudged that she was beautiful. Arrogant as he could be and incessantly swaggering, but she was beautiful. There was something sweet, and yet so sharp, about her features. His eyes traced them greedily the first, the second, the third time he met her, and even today, as she set her bag next to his in the library and took a seat across from him he couldn't help it. He absorbed every bit of her; golden hair and aquamarine eyes ringed with gold. The small nose, sharp but softened by the sun kissed freckles scattered along it. The cheekbones that framed her face and lips painted a threatening shade of red.

"So, Rowan, what'll it be today?" Aelin asked, pulling out her notebook and flipping her hair over one shoulder. He didn't know it yet, but it was a nervous tic.

"The same as yesterday, Aelin. Calculus." He gave her a long suffering look and pinched the bridge of his nose. She was beautiful, but it didn't make tutoring her any easier.

"No originality." She sighed. "How disappointing."

"Let's just start."

So they began, and Rowan questioned not for the first time why she had bothered asking their teacher for a peer tutor. She was clearly skilled. She knew what she was doing. He worked up the courage and asked for the first time.

"I'm pretty busy," She explained. "I just want to make sure that I'm understanding everything and that I know what I'm doing, you know? Sometimes I'm so tired in class and I just want to make sure I'm getting everything. Sorry if that makes this seem like a waste of time." Rowan shook his head. He admired her dedication to her education. He certainly cared for his own, but not this much.

"No, I don't mind at all. I have hockey, but that doesn't really start for a while."

"Right, right, you're on the hockey team! You just don't seem like it when we're sitting in the library and you're teaching me math, you know?"

"And you don't seem like the type to be aspiring for Julliard, but here we are."

"Shhh!" Aelin exaggerated. "That's a secret!" Rowan looked at her pointedly.

As he opened his mouth to say something, another boy walked up to the table they were sitting at. Rowan recognized him. He was a year younger, in Aelin's grade.

"Chaol! What're you doing here? I'd expect Dorian at the library, but you're usually at the gym." Chaol. That was his name. And Aelin seemed to know him, seemed to be very familiar with him in fact. And who was Dorian. Rowan found that these questions rose no matter how hard he tried to tamp them down.

Chaol's cheeks were coated in a slight blush. "Could I talk to you, just the two of us?"

Did he plan on asking Aelin out? Rowan couldn't deny that no matter how much he ignored it, a part of him hoped that wouldn't happen.

"What do you say tutor? Can the two of us finish for the day?"

The other part knew that was stupid, because that was it really. He was her tutor, and maybe they were friends. Acquaintances probably. It wasn't something he wanted to think too much about. So he mumbled a yes and hoped Aelin heard him, beginning to pack his things.

And he froze, because Aelin kissed him on the cheek. Then ran off with Chaol, behind the bookshelves.

Fuck this, he thought. Fuck the searing heat in the spot her lips had pressed against his skin, fuck the fluttering in his stomach, fuck his uneven heartbeat. Fuck the lipstick smudge on his cheek. Still, he bit his lip hard enough to hurt to hold back he didn't know what. A smile? Maybe.

He stood from their table and then Aelin and Chaol popped back out of the bookshelves. "Guess who has a date?" She sing songed. The lightness in his chest turned sticky and heavy like tar and it became hard to breathe. "Me, stupid. God, don't look at me like that, it's not that confusing!"

"That's- it's nice."

"It's very nice, Rowan, thank you very much. See you tomorrow? I'll tell you all about it after you teach me fancy math, I promise." Aelin smiled and whirled around, walking out of the library with Chaol.

After that, Rowan had no choice but to come to terms with his feelings for Aelin. He didn't just think she was beautiful, she was funny and her wit and swagger was captivating. Conversations with her were entertaining and he noticed the small things she did, like the way she narrowed her eyes when she concentrated or sighed under her breath when she didn't understand.

Tutoring sessions were his time with her, but they became almost unbearable. Chaol stopped by every day within the first hour of their two hour session, dropping off a coffee that he could tell was too bitter and kissing Aelin before going about his own business.

In March, when colleges were sending acceptance letters out, Rowan would be lying if he said Aelin wasn't the first person texted when Yale sent him the letter saying he got it. The next day, Rowan found Aelin at their table, books and papers out, two cups of steaming liquid. She looked up as he set his things down and smiled wide at him.

"How does it feel to know you're going to an Ivy?" She asked, and passed him a cup. He pried off the lid and smiled when the sweet smell of jasmine tea wafted up to him. He preferred it to coffee. Aelin, though was drinking coffee, and he suspected it had far too much sugar for it to be healthy.

"It feels great. And nerve wracking, honestly." He replied. She nodded.

"Yeah, I can see how. I'd be freaked out too if I got into such a prestigious college."

"And maybe you will." He raised his brows. "Julliard?"

She sighed exaggeratedly. "I don't think I'm good enough for Julliard, truthfully."

"Well, apply next year. If only so you can come visit me at Yale." Aelin's face brightened with a mischievous smile.

"If you say so."

They settled into comfortable silence for a bit, and then Rowan started their review for the day. When it had been an hour and a half and Chaol hadn't stopped by yet, he had to ask. "Where's the boyfriend?"

"No longer my boyfriend. Looks like I have to buy my own coffee from now own." She sighed in that dramatic way of hers again. Rowan couldn't help the overwhelming relief that slammed through him. Now he could-

He could what? He could ask her out? Tell her that he knew Chaol had never bothered to properly learn her coffee order because he noticed the way she winced when she sipped the too bitter liquid? Tell her that he knew she was brilliant on the piano, though he'd only heard her play once? That she was beautiful and smart and funny and so, so brilliant, and they'd only have a year together before he left?

He couldn't do it. Or maybe you're afraid, that awful voice everyone had in their head mocked him. Rowan didn't want to admit to that either.

So all he said was, "Oh, I'm sorry." Aelin flashed a smile at him, and it twisted a knife through his gut because it wasn't her swaggering grin. It was gone sooner than it had come. They continued with their session until two hours came to an end and Aelin stood abruptly, leaving the library faster than she did before.

On May 3rd, Aelin turned 17, and Rowan remembered it. He carried her present with him all through the day. It was tucked into a small black box, her name written in gold marker in his quick scrawl. When he sat at their table at the library, he felt like the wait for her had been broken down into each separate millisecond. It was torture on his stomach, his heartbeat pulsing and fluttering in and out of it.

After what felt like decades, Aelin sat down across from him. "Hey Rowan," She smiled at him. In all the time they'd spent together, he had learned all her different smiles. There were the ones that curled at the left side of her mouth and made her shoulders pull back arrogantly. She was sure to start teasing him when her smile pulled slowly, eyes glinting mischievously. When she smiled like that, he couldn't help but grin himself.

But this smile, the one that was pure happiness, simple joy, it was his favorite. She looked at him from across the table and her eyes gleamed with it, sparkling, the shades of turquoise and gold even more vibrant. Aelin furrowed her brows and he realized he'd been staring.

"Happy birthday!" Rowan blurted out.

Aelin's brows rose and she laughed into that beautiful smile of hers and he was knocked breathless again. "Thank you, Rowan."

He reached over into his bag and pulled out the flat black box. "I got you- I don't know if- I figured-"

"Thank you, Rowan," She said again, smiling wider and coming to his side of the table and kneeling next to him so she was just a bit shorter. "Now let me see what's in her."

She traced her fingers over the box, her smile growing softer. "I love your handwriting, you know. I know you think it's messy, and it is, but it's the pretty kind of messy, you know?" She looked over at him and blushed a little. "I love your handwriting." She traced the five letters of her name written in his scrawl again.

And then Aelin opened the box, and she gasped a little. It was simple, he knew that, but most of Aelin's necklaces were, to his notice. It was something she'd be able to wear with most outfits. She pulled the gold chain out of the crushed velveteen it was laid on and looked closer at the turquoise gemstone pendant.

"I- The color, it reminded me of your eyes, so you know..." He trailed off.

She turned to look at him. "I love it, Rowan," and Aelin threw her arms around his neck, red lipstick blurring in the quickness. It was his raging pulse, it was a fiery inferno, it was his urge to kiss her. She was so near, so close to him, lavender and lemon verbena intoxicating him.

And why not? There was nothing to lose.

He pulled back from where his head was pressed to her neck, arms holding her tightly. Rowan wasn't sure whether he moved first or she did. But their mouths were upon each other, softer than he'd thought he would kiss her. But it was soft, it was sweet, it was everything he had wanted to do after sitting across from her all year long.

When Aelin pulled back from his mouth, she huffed a little laugh and rubbed his lips lightly with her thumb. “You’ve got lipstick on your lips now.” She smiled, pressing her forehead into his neck.

Holding her against his body, red lipstick smudged against his lips, standing in the school library, Rowan had never felt so calm. So warm. So happy. And he realized, with a desperate suddenness, he loved the girl in his arms.

“I love you.” He whispered against her hair. And it was peaceful.

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #angsty #throne of glass #fanfic #day one

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beesartandstuffs · 5 years ago

Text

Shot in the Dark: Interim- Chapter 4

(oh, did I say the next few days? It’s today :3

Also, please not that while this chapter is written in second person, it is not a reader-insert.

Don’t forget to LIKE, COMMENT and REBLOG!!!)

SHOT IN THE DARK MASTERLIST (find more stories here!)

~~~

It would be easy to say that your life goal has been very simple: Reunite with your parents and live the rest of your lives in peace. That's all you wanted, at first. That's the only thing that made sense.

Well, besides the fact that your mother was dead. For some reason, that never really deterred you.

You remember the look on your uncle's face when you first said you wanted to see her. In retrospect, you feel bad. The lines on his forehead had deepened and he was speechless for a moment as you waited expectantly.

"Your… you can't see your mother anymore, Liam," he had said to you, as gently as he could. His eyes were misty but resolute. "We buried her in November, remember? Did you want to visit her graveside?"

You had shaken your head. No, you wanted to talk to her in person. You had questions that only she could answer. Uncle Damien hadn't been able to say anything else and Aunt Emma had spoken up. "Maybe we can talk about this when you're older, dear."

You were a reasonable child. You waited until about five years later, a week after your tenth birthday, to bring it up again. (You had waited a week in order to avoid interrupting the festivities.)

"I want to talk to my mom and dad," you had said, in the most grown-up tone you could muster.

Emma and Damien had exchanged glances.

Damien left to make a phone call.

All three of you woke up with bloody noses that night.

Col. William was in a good mood when you sat across from him at the big metal table in the big cold room. A guard in a uniform stood nearby, but the Colonel was handcuffed. You weren't afraid of him, anyway.

“Hello, Dad,” you said in a friendly tone. You sat politely in the big chair, your feet dangling several inches from the ground, with your hands in your lap.

He didn't look up from his notebook for a while, but when he did, he looked surprised. "Well, good morning, my boy," he said kindly, even though it was early afternoon. "My name is William J. Barnum, but you may call me Colonel. I'd shake your hand, but…" He gestured with the handcuffs on his wrists. You smiled slightly, and he continued. "What brings a young lad like you to a place like this?"

So he'd forgotten already. Emma had warned you he would. "My name is Liam," you said patiently. "You forgot me, but I'm your son."

"Son?" He shook his head, laughing. "Oh, I can't have a son. Celine would never allow that to happen. Her husband is quite the unpredictable man, you know."

Celine. Your mother. You grasped onto that, leaning forward. "What was Celine like, Colonel?"

He paused and tilted his head. "Celine is… strong. Stubborn, but brilliant, vivacious, enrapturing…" A sigh escaped his lips and he smiled dreamily. "My first love. My only love, truly."

Quickly, before you thought to lose your nerve, you asked, "Was she a witch?"

"Heavens no!" You were thankful that the Colonel laughed, instead of being offended. "Goodness, where could you get an idea like that? Ah, wagging tongues, most likely. Most unfortunate." Shaking his head, he looked down at his journal and laughed to himself. "No, she was not a witch, my boy. She was fascinated with the supernatural, had been since she was but a slip of a girl. I never discouraged her, but… I'll admit I did worry." He shook his head again, his smile fading. "But she was always quite a bit smarter than I, so I didn't question her. I assumed she knew what she was getting into."

Suddenly, he frowned, and looked up at you. The sharp gaze of his dark eyes was sad but incredibly intelligent. "... How could this be?" he asked softly. "She told me she gave you up."

It took you a moment to realize that he knew who you were. "She did. Uncle Abe found me and took me to Emma and Damien."

He nodded, not seeming surprised. "Honest Abe… so he did hear me," he murmured. "You're a fortunate boy. Damien's probably a better father than I could ever be."

You never even tried, you thought you might like to say. But you didn't, because your father was here and he recognized you and you could be a family now.

"They'll raise you to be a good man," he continued, and your heart dropped. "I'm not getting out of here any time soon, so I hope you visit me again. It'll be a nice change from only seeing Abe every few months."

"But—" This isn't how it's supposed to go. You found him, he knows you. He's supposed to take care of you. "Why can't I stay with you?"

He smiled, and this one was sadder than ever. "Prison isn't a good place to raise a growing boy, I'm afraid. Besides, I'm…" He looked down at his journal. "I forgot again, didn't I? I remembered the wrong things."

"I remember wrong things too!" you insisted, but he shook his head gently at you, not looking up.

"Not like this. Like this, I'd… I couldn't do right by you. Emma and Damien are good people, they aren't… like me."

"What's wrong with you?" you demanded, hurt and scared and naive.

He didn't answer then, so you asked again. But he didn't say anything even when the guard came to pull you out. You weren't sure why the guard had come until you felt moisture on your face and your throat was sore, and you realized you'd been crying, which had escalated into screaming, and you didn't know how to stop.

The guard passed you off to the warden, nursing a bloody nose, and you didn't remember hitting him but you were sorry, and you tried to apologize but the only noises you could make were sobs and cries like a wounded animal’s.

Uncle Abe was waiting for you in the front office. You couldn't stand the look on his face when he saw your state, so you turned your face away, allowing yourself to be handed off like a limp marionette and burying your face in his shoulder.

He didn't say anything to you as he buckled you into his cruiser, but he did squeeze your shoulder. You guessed that that was his attempt at comforting you, so you decided to appreciate it.

The warden came out to the car, then, and Abe shut the door to talk to him in relative private. After a subdued but tense conversation, the warden handed Abe a package, which he tucked into his jacket.

He didn't say anything at all until he asked if you wanted to get some ice cream, to which you nodded miserably.

He let you choose a park bench to enjoy your treats. You always got chocolate with liberal amounts of sprinkles, and he indulged in a simple scoop of strawberry.

The park bench was too tall for you, but you were a bit small for your age. You didn't mind getting to swing your legs, and it's hard to cry when you're eating ice cream, because the salt doesn't taste very good, so you were starting to feel better.

Abe passed his cone to one hand and reached over with the other to ruffle your wild black hair. "Didn't go how you expected, huh?"

Wordlessly, you shook your head.

"That's okay, kid. Nothing can really prepare you for that." His hand fell back to his lap, and you contemplated his statement.

"What's wrong with… with William?" you asked finally, having decided not to call him by either "Colonel" or "Father", for he was neither your friend nor a paternal figure. He had forfeited that right.

Abe sighed, took off his hat and ran his hand over the fuzz on his head. "He's… well, I dunno for sure, kid. He's not all there, yknow? Forgets things. Remembers things wrong. Thinks things are true that aren't. Stuff like that."

"I do that too," you point out, because it's true. Just the night before you had woken up thinking you had a dog, and Damien had had to keep you from going out in the cold to find her because she had "gotten lost in the golf greens".

It still felt like you had a dog, but there was no dog there, so you'd decided to believe Damien.

Abe knew you weren't lying. He simply searched your face, nodding thoughtfully, and finished his ice cream with a pensive scowl. As you both crunched on your cones, he spoke up again. "Liam, there's something the Colonel wants you to have."

You immediately abandoned your determination to forget William ever existed. "A present? For me?"

A small grin crossed his face as he reached into his coat and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. You reached for it instinctively, then remembered yourself and placed your hands back in your lap, waiting for him to speak.

Taking note of your rarely-seen excitement, Abe passed the package to you. "I think there's a note inside, but it might be hard for you to re—"

Before he could even finish speaking, you'd already torn the string and paper off and were reading the handwritten note tucked inside the cover of a small, plain, blank notebook.

The note was written in elegant but firm script. Some of the words were crossed out and rewritten, and you noticed that most of them were when he referred to things in the present when really they were in the past— a mistake you'd been known to make as well.

My Dear Son William Jr.,

I hasten to write this while I still have my mind. It comes and goes these days, and I fear that you may be predisposed to the same problems. Hence, this little gift.

My boy, sometimes the world will not make sense to you. Sometimes, you may forget things, or remember something that didn't really happen. In times like that, it may be helpful to have something you can look back on, something that you know is correct and unchangeable.

The written word is a powerful thing, my boy, and I pray that someday you realize just how true that statement is.

This journal is a tool, my dear son, to help you keep your mind in order. Everything you experience, every thought you have, write it down in this little book. It may feel silly at first, but I promise you, the minute you remember something that no-one else does, you can look back in this book and find the truth.

I hope you find it useful.

All my love,

The Colonel

~~~

Tag list: @mayor-damien-protection-squad@markired@blackaquokat@pleaseletthisjimbetaken@gravitykaz@jojored22@neverisadork@withjust-a-bite @gmcfyuffins @satansladydoor (If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged, please tell me! Inversely, if you would like to be tagged in these, don’t be afraid to ask!)

#markiplier #who killed markiplier #wkm- shot in the dark #ocliam #wkm colonel #wkm abe #DAEmmaBailey #wkm damien #fanfic #fanfiction #writersofmark

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