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thrilling-oneway · 11 months

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Tsukasa Tenma

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I've mentioned it before but WxS is the group I would consider to be the least close on a personal level. It's complicated to put into words. They clearly love and treasure each other dearly and Our Happy Ending really works to show us just how much their friendship means to them and how broken they would be without it. But despite that there's still barriers. I come back to what Rui said in KAITO's initial card about how he and Tsukasa aren't the kind of close friends who talk about their childhood memories. Like... how to put this. WonderlandsxShowtime is an incredibly tight-knit and valued circle of friendship, but Tsukasa in particular very rarely divulges information about his past. Mainly in regards as to how he came to be like this, like Tsukasa. They know about the shows and that he wanted to make Saki smile but there's those small personal details that are only known because of Toya telling Rui about them.

WxS is incredibly important to Tsukasa, Our Happy Ending is evidence enough of that in that he actually broke down crying for the 3 whole seconds they were disbanded. I think it's more obvious that they're important on a professional level (thanking Emu for hiring him in OHE, thanking Rui for being their director in the connect live), but he does care about them on a personal level he's just less vocal about that part. It's still very obviously there but just not explicitly in the words "I love my friends thank you for being with me", and by no means does it need to be. Maybe the audience interpretation is not helped by the fact that Tsukasa is somewhat single-minded about theatre. He throws himself all into that - theatre comes first, evidenced by Phoenix where he neglects his health for the sake of a role and his development. As well as this there's the fact he tries to tackle most of his challenges alone, rather than asking for help. He goes into tunnel vision when theatre is concerned, although it has been stated a few times that his childhood experiences very much did shape who he is, and I do wonder if having to take care of himself so often from such a young age plays into his mindset of having to do things on his own, even when he encourages his friends to do the opposite. However, over time he is gradually learning to, well, learn from other people. He's got WxS and he's got other actors around him to help him, and he is learning that he can rely on them when he hits roadblocks. A star shines brighter because of those around him, a lesson he learnt well in the main story.

And while there isn't really anything to confirm this, I get the feeling that part of the reason he never got an event covering his feelings over the disbandment and overall seemed to be far more ok with the idea is maybe because he's a realist in some ways. As I said, nothing to actually suggest this, mainly just thinking what would make sense given his childhood where he was constantly exposed to the harsher things in life through Saki being in hospital for a lot of it. That said, he kinda just doesn't like to think about negative things. We see him faced with the possibility of the group disbanding a few times, but his reaction is always to worry about it later, and enjoy it now. Or something along those lines. Like think about in Dazzling Light where it takes him a while to realise that actually he used the piano when he was lonely the same way Torpe used the stars. Or in Phoenix at the Sky's Edge where he has to force himself to break down in defeat and accept that he isn't as good as his peers.

As I said, WxS are important friends to him, even if he usually only vocalises this on a professional level. Like even if it isn't said it's obvious by his actions that they mean something personally. He respects Emu's wishes to make people smile over everything because they align with his own. Both of their dreams were sparked by a loved one that they treasure dearly and with their whole heart. He wants Emu to be happy as well, and wants her to be more open with the troupe (Smile of Dreamer), and in Wonder Magical Showtime, he put the competition that could get him a head start in his career aside for Emu's dreams to uphold her grandfather's legacy, knowing full well that he was giving up an opportunity for himself. It was a completely selfless act for her benefit.

He respects Nene's talent and aspirations, and again they align with his own, to be able to be good enough to see stages worldwide. Even if they bicker, he does care about her, checking in on her at school to see how she's doing in her new class (Hello Good Day), and encouraging her as she improves her singing and works towards her dreams. He gets genuinely worried for her and not just the show in Holy Night when she hits a roadblock with her singing. Admittedly I think their relationship is a little less defined that Tsukasa's relationships with Emu and Rui, but also I am going off memory on this one so it might just be that I remember Nene events less. Nonetheless, they have a lot of respect for each other, despite their bickering and Nene usually acting annoyed at him, they are still close friends who are important to each other both personally and professionally. Due to them being the main actors of the group as well, they naturally fall into that respectful and friendly rivalry. Both of them are incredibly talented and can see each other's abilities as a goal to work towards, though this is more defined from Nene's side, given she's slightly more focused on the singing side of things over acting.

Skipping over the relationships that don’t involve Tsukasa and going straight to Rui because, well, this is an analysis of Tsukasa. But, how to put it, it feels like Tsukasa and Rui’s relationship might be one of the most misunderstood within WxS? Like maybe it’s because they’re the designated comedy duo as Oddball 1-2, but also there’s like 2 and a bit events dedicated to it so I dunno. Anyway.

Tsukasa dislikes the Oddball 1-2 bit because he doesn’t like getting in trouble at school. In 2nd year he was the class president and in 3rd year he joined the disciplinary committee because he didn’t like the fact he had a bad reputation and was supposedly (definitely) considered a problem child. He adamantly refuses that he is a problem child and wants to be a responsible model student. That's the issue he has with it. He actually doesn't actually mind doing all of Rui's stunts even if he does complain sometimes, because he knows even if they sound dangerous Rui wouldn't do something that would get him hurt (Wonder Halloween).

Tsukasa's relationship with Rui is built on a mutual trust, because obviously as an actor and director they have to be able to understand and work with each other (Curtain Call). Tsukasa trusts that Rui will help him to shine, Rui trusts that Tsukasa will perform under his direction to 12000%, and they trust each other to put on the greatest show together. And again respect comes into play because of their aligned goals. That said their relationship isn't strictly limited to the professional side and Pandemonium is definitely the biggest game changer in that aspect. Actually while everyone talks about the end there's actually a couple earlier scenes that are needed to add the full context of it, even if the event is mostly from Rui's POV. Actually the most important scene is probably the part where Shizuku tells an anecdote about her and Tsukasa as kids and then mentions that Tsukasa is the kind of person who really loves his friends, and then Rui realises that Tsukasa had been looking out for him the entire trip and making sure he was getting along with his classmates. So even if it's not from the POV of Tsukasa himself, it's very clear that Tsukasa does care about Rui a lot and values him as both a good friend and a director. They actually become significantly closer after this event if recent interactions are anything to go by (Tsukasa's new 2* has them going shopping together, something Emu and Nene do often who were always closer friends than the boys were).

I don't think the scene at the end was one-sided either. Even though Rui says that he was able to change because of Tsukasa, what Tsukasa said in response isn't wrong. He accepted Rui's thanks, but he still turns it back on him because it's true that even if Tsukasa gave him the chance to stand on stage, Rui never would've actually changed if he didn't take his hand. Tsukasa's pretty selfless when it comes to the people in his life. While yes, he can be selfish sometimes about his dreams, but that's just what you have to do when you're passionate about something. With people it's different. He does the same thing with Saki, and a few other characters. Tsukasa has positively impacted the lives of multiple characters but when it's pointed out to him he will find a way to turn the situation on its head and find how those people took what he gave them and helped themself with it because that's just who he is. He's happy to see his friends happy and will point out their good points that they fail to notice. Tsukasa didn't need to talk about his own experiences then either. That would be very out-of-character for him. It wasn't his moment to share, not to mention he doesn't talk about that sort of stuff to anyone but his family. It was Rui's moment to express his gratitude and Tsukasa's moment to accept it, not unload his trauma (also, it was a Rui event).

I think part of the reason Tsukasa's events are heavily focused on him and only him when the others get events that are more tied to their relationships with the unit is simply because his arc is more closely linked to his personal growth in regards to acting. While Emu had plenty of friends, she didn't have anyone at Wonder Stage with her, she needed people to take her dream seriously. Rui had been outcast by everyone around him and just needed friends to accept him for who he was. Nene was shy and needed an outlet to rediscover her passion for theatre and people to encourage her to push through the past trauma holding her back. WxS obviously was what set off Tsukasa becoming a better person, but he always has dealt with everything personal alone. Even in the main story after WxS split, he went to the SEKAI and had to unpack his childhood memories by himself (I guess a plushie did help him out actually), and he had to get Emu back by himself.

Rui and Emu's events are especially slightly more focused on their relationships with the unit, because they're the ones who have always been pretty satisfied with where they are. They have their dreams, and they're working towards them. But what has always been the most important for them has always been having friends who truly accept them and take them seriously. That's why they were the ones who got the events focused on the possibility of the unit disbanding. Because WxS is especially dear to them.

On the other hand, Nene and Tsukasa are the ones with huge dreams of a worldwide stage. It's clear Nene wants to go to Broadway (fes card), and Tsukasa mentions wanting to go abroad multiple times. Their events are always focused on them honing their talents and skills to get closer to that dream. However there is a stark difference in how they do it. While Nene still often works on her own, she's always been pushed forwards by the others, she knows she can rely on them, and she even got to meet her idol and be mentored by her. She's got a stable (professional) support system and knows that there's people to help her out even if the work is something only she can do.

Tsukasa is the opposite - he tries to deal with problems alone. He doesn't take help until he's pushed himself as far as he can alone, he lies to Saki when she's worried about him. As I said earlier, it genuinely does seem like he feels he cannot accept help, that he has to work alone. Because the game makes it very clear that Saki is massively important to him, she is literally what sparked his dream in the first place, him lying to her is a big out of character moment for him. Phoenix makes it very clear that his craft comes first, but he also has a very unhealthy mindset when it comes to some of the roadblocks he faces in said craft.

The thing you have to remember is that all of this comes from Saki. Specifically, the situation she and her family were in way back when. Saki was chronically ill, and she had to be away all the time. It was all completely out of her control. However, in one instance of her being home, Tsukasa saw how happy she was at a play, and he built his entire life around that. And obviously as Saki's illness worsened, he started to develop a persona to make himself more confident and mature. He had to take care of himself even when he was a kid because of how often he was left in the house alone. Not to stray too far into speculation, but the thing is when these sorts of things happen at such a young age they will start to mesh with who you are. Because you are growing and if you're having to be completely independent and put on a persona to act in an ideal way, that is going to grow into you. And it very clearly did, just read the main story and it's clear that persona and idea of being independent got to his head. It's also clear that he pushed a lot of what actually caused those things to happen to the back of his mind, the SEKAI existing is proof he never really forgot, but he pushed it away for some reason, presumably because it isn't a nice thing to think about. It's never outright confirmed, but to me it seems pretty clear that the things that happened in his childhood shaped how he acts now.

Actually, a lot of his arc outside of him improving as an actor is about learning the lesson that he cannot do everything alone, and that there are people here to support him. It's what Rui teaches him in the main story when he leaves: Tsukasa cannot become a star on his own. When Tsukasa runs into roadblocks he usually will try to deal with them on his own at first, which is what most people would do, of course. However he tends to really push his limits before he accepts help, because he's stubborn, and it's frustrating that he can't work out how to get into character for certain roles. But there's a very clear development in how he accepts help. Compare the main story, where he only cared about himself and couldn't work well with other people, to Phoenix, where he's surrounded by people to support him and is able to openly show his insecurity to them. However, there's a certain disconnect between his personal and professional sides; even as he learns to open up about his problems, they're specifically his professional ones.

I think the reason his relationship with WxS is less obviously important, with you instead having to read a bit between the lines to see it does go deeper than just coworkers, is simply because Tsukasa isn't good at dealing with his emotions, mainly regarding his past (also, as I've said, he just never really vocalises it). He was worried for Saki but he had to be brave for her, he had to be happy so she could be happy, he couldn't be vulnerable because a good big brother isn't vulnerable, so he created a persona for himself. He had to take care of himself and was lonely so often, but Saki had it worse, so he would play the piano and then he pushed the experience aside when it was all over. Even if Saki had it worse, Tsukasa didn't have it good. And as I said, he pushes it aside. He rarely talks about his childhood. Saki and Toya obviously know, and Rui knows what Toya told him, but Tsukasa just never brings it up to anyone outside of his family. He's not great at processing his emotions. I think all of that sort of builds up an emotional wall between him and WxS that just makes him seem less close in a way. It's there, the closeness is there but it's limited by the fact he holds so much back compared to everyone else. There's a lot of things they don't know about him that so far has had to come from a third person (that being Toya in a couple area conversations and Never Give Up Cooking).

And, of course, it does make sense that he was able to grow closer to WxS through theatre, considering just how much of his life it takes up. Theatre is so so much to him, so it's no wonder that as he learns to open up about how he feels, the feelings that he opens up about connect to his craft. But it's that, the fact that it's all theatre. It takes up so much of who he is, which is by no means whatsoever a bad thing, but there's still a lack of his life beyond that. The phrasing there is a bit misleading, so let's put it this way: obviously WxS and we as the audience know he's an excellent older brother, he's incredibly kind and loves and cares for his friends so much, he gets pretty good grades in school but he does cram, he's loud and bombastic and loves being in the limelight, and most importantly he loves theatre, and wants to make people smile just like his sister did way back when. But then only his family and we as the audience know about the other things from his past, like how much of a toll Saki being in hospital took on him, how he was lonely, the extent to what the piano means to him. Pretty much all of what WxS knows about him is about him now. They don't know much about his past outside what they've been told by other people. You don't have to know about someone's past to be their friend, but knowing about their past can help you to understand them better, their inner workings and how their past shaped them into who they are now. It can help you to develop a deeper personal connection. Even if they don't get a whole event and it's only mentioned in passing, like Kohane for example (though it's plot relevant for her), every other character has discussed their past with their unit, be it their childhood or only a year before the game is set. Tsukasa is the only character who has his past shown and talked about who doesn't ever talk about it with his unit (outside the basics of Saki and shows). We're shown more than quite a few characters get but these scenes are only for the audience and his family to know about, not his friends.

Come Our Happy Ending, Tsukasa's relationships with the others is clearly an important one. There's a reason he's broken up by the very real possibility of the group splitting up. As I said, he tends not to dwell on the negatives, he always pushes those aside unless he has no choice but to face them, and this was one of those times he had no choice. WxS has given him so many opportunities as both a craftsman and as a person. He's a better person because of them, he's changed because of them, he's closer to his dream than ever before because of them. Even if he doesn't always vocalise this, even if he still puts up walls and limits how close their relationships can be, those relationships are still nonetheless valuable to him. As said by Shizuku, Tsukasa is someone who really loves and treasures his friends, his friends and family are the most important people to him. Despite how bombastic of a character he is, he's extremely nuanced and there's a lot of subtlety when it comes to how his experiences and the people in his life affect him. He just needs to be a bit more open to talk.

#rambles #this was written in response to an ask but the anon didnt want me to post what they sent. but i liked what id written so heres my response #it might not make 100% sense bc of the ask missing but i think i got rid of most of the parts that needed the context of it #obligatory love is used platonically but interpret how you will #forgot to add that #project sekai #tenma tsukasa #mine #30/11/23 i had thoughts it's edited now #17/2/24 i decided i didn't like it and redrafted it again

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landinrris · 3 months

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I'd love to hear more about the Vietnam cave photo & back in Hanoi (Norrix)!

Ugh this smaller fic is so beyond overdue. It's mostly what it sounds like. I was writing a drabble about how Lando took That photo of Martin in the cave back in Vietnam that ends up culminating in a bit of smut once they get back to Hanoi and away from all their friends they're with. Tents don't exactly provide the best privacy.

All that needs to be finished on it is the smut, but I had hit a tiny roadblock with it. I guess this is my cue to try and pick it up again.

This snippet is a bit of conversation they have while they're sitting in the sand together post-photo:

----

“Penny for your thoughts?” He tilts his head down onto Martin’s shoulder, eyes staring blankly at the natural light beginning to filter in with more force. They probably don’t have much time left alone.

Martin snakes a hand to curl around Lando’s thigh. The weight is comforting in a way that makes Lando’s body melt into Martin’s that much more. If they were anywhere with even a modicum more privacy…

“There’s a part of me that wishes this would never end. That we could disappear and live off the grid somewhere where no one would find us.”

“As long as there’s indoor plumbing,” Lando adds. But he relates concerningly to Martin— maybe that’s why they work so well together. Long lost souls who cherish what they get to do, but secretly would give it all up for a life of calm and contentment.

“I’ll build you a karting track so you don’t get too rusty.”

Lando laughs and seals his mouth into Martin’s shoulder in an attempt at muffling his noises. He doesn’t miss the way Martin shivers.

“And a studio in the spare room for you.”

“Sounds like the perfect dream home.”

Lando kind of hates how his stomach jumps at Martin’s words. They’ve only officially been together since the end of November, known each other for a year and a half. If anything, he should be spooked about Martin talking about a future already, yet he feels anything but.

Lando should have laughed and run away when Martin suggested this trip in the first place, especially being so close to the start of the season, yet here he is.

His self-preservation instincts may be a bit broken when it comes to Martin.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about when I woke up before realizing where you were?” Lando asks, letting his impulsive thoughts float to the surface.

“Hmm?” There’s a note of interest in his voice that’s disastrous for Lando’s self-restraint.

“How unfair it is that I’m spending my last days of break with you and we’re surrounded by other people in very not sound-proofed tents.”

Martin’s hand around Lando’s thigh squeezes, and Lando can’t help but let it fall in towards Martin. “Are you uninviting me to the UK when we get back?”

Their last hurrah before Martin’s tour starts, but Lando will be back working by then. He has a few days in Monaco while Martin is in the studio to unpack and maybe get lunch with Carlos, but then he has to go do his helmet reveal and do the car launch, film what’ll feel like never-ending promo material. Martin can be off-camera while Ash takes photos of him, but it won’t be the same.

Lando scoffs and playfully digs his front teeth into Martin’s shoulder. “If you don’t come to London with me when I’m not gonna see you until mid March…” he trails off, tilting his head up to look at Martin for the first time in several minutes. The stare that greets him sends a shiver up Lando’s spine.

“If it makes you feel better, we have a day when we get back to Hanoi where we will not be sharing a hotel room with anyone. And I will make it up to you.” He murmurs the last bit as he leans in to close the gap to Lando’s mouth.

There’s something about the quiet morning light that makes this feel that much more special for as simple of a kiss as it is. But that’s how Martin has always driven Lando insane— with careful and sure movements that eventually culminate in Lando becoming a begging mess.

Lando pushes closer, opening his mouth under Martin’s while trying to stifle as much noise as he can. God, he hasn’t been kissed like this, one of Martin’s hands coming to cradle his jaw and tip his head back, since they left Hanoi. How silly, to ache without the presence of someone’s touch after a few days, but it’s an ache Lando feels all the same.

#sometimes all the brain wants to do is write smut and sometimes it dries up and goes ''excuse me???''#ask #norrix #writing tag

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lindleland · 6 months

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And just like that, I'm done with Moon.

I was worried that I'd end up disliking this on a replay but it was much better than I'd remembered. Honestly one of my favourite games in the series.

These are still some of the best characters in the series, it has one of the best batches of new Pokemon they ever introduced, and you have a great set of team options throughout the game without it ever feeling like they're giving you too many options. I feel like the last couple entries have been maybe a bit too generous with the Pokemon you can get early on plus giving you enough XP to easily raise multiple teams, making each playthrough seem kind of indistinct. This one hits the perfect balance.

The region looks goddamn gorgeous and I love the aesthetic of these 3D models, there's a good balance between detail in the models and pixellated textures that have a real low-poly charm to them.

And this is still probably the best plot in the series, barring maybe Scarlet and Violet's.

I do have one big criticism though, and that's that this game is overwhelmingly handholdy. I think a lot of the changes to the formula were a good idea, but incorproating a strict linear plot with exactly one quest marker at a time makes this really feel like you aren't on your own journey, you're being guided through a series of preset objectives. So many roadblocks in this feel aggressively guiding, like the game is saying "this is NOT the way to progress the story, go follow your quest marker NOW", and there are very few opportunities to go off the beaten path. Additionally, while I do like the cutscenes, there are way too many of them. You can hardly enter anywhere new in this game without a cutscene happening.

With that being said, I still had a fantastic time here. And in fairness, Sword and Shield had similar problems outside of the Wild Areas despite barely even having a plot.

Glad I'm putting some good distance between this and Ultra Moon, though. Probably the worst pair of games to play through back to back given how little freedom there is in the experience. I'll be playing through the Violet DLC whenever I can afford it, but the other games in my immediate replay lineup are physical copies on old hardware that I can't screenshot on. Once we get back to the 3DS era though I'll probably liveblog Alpha Sapphire and Ultra Moon as well.

...Though I'm not really done with this liveblog yet, since Moon has (holy shit) an actual substantial postgame! Stay tuned.

#pokemon #lind plays pokemon moon

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practically-an-x-man · 8 months

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Angst prompt-

"I don't care if it's the only way, we're gonna find another option. You do not get to sacrifice yourself today."

Ooooh I've got a cool idea for Kestrel with this one!

____ Locked Away

Word Count: 2.9k Content Warnings: mentions of capture, mild body horror, loss of identity ____

The mission was going well.

Up until they hit a colossal roadblock.

"Pay to pass." the man insisted, despite all of Warren's efforts to reason with him, "No money, no passage."

Halfway through the mission, they'd stumbled into a broker of magical creatures. The property he owned with his shop - likely used for managing the larger creatures and keeping fairies from turning into imps - also happened to be the only way forward.

"Listen, please," Kestrel tried, "We're on a very serious time crunch here. We don't have time to go back and get the money. Let us pass, we'll complete our mission, and we'll pay you back at the end of the week."

The broker laughed, a singular harsh bark.

"There's a changeling's tricks if I've ever heard it."

Kestrel bristled at the words. They floundered for words for far too long - how had he just guessed? It was their greatest secret, and they knew that they'd done nothing to give it away in the brief conversation they'd had with the broker so far. Neither had Warren. Or Kendra. Or Seth.

The only possible explanation was that the broker was equally magical himself. He must have had some means of sensing it - perhaps he'd had some sort on spell cast of himself or his shop, meant to identify any nearby magical creatures for use in his trade.

"It's no trick," Warren jumped in, trying to recover the situation, "We're honorable people. All of us. Maybe we can leave you with some kind of collateral - some way to prove we'll come back with the full amount."

The broker seemed to think this over for a minute. His eyes flicked across their party, but paused a hair too long on Kestrel. Something cold slithered up their spine at the expression on his face.

"Well..." he said, "They say no trader's ever managed to capture a changeling. If I were the first... yes, I could consider that passage for the rest of your party."

Warren blanched as soon as the words had left the shopkeeper's mouth. Almost unconsciously, he stepped a little closer to Kestrel. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for them, to protect them from this newly-unveiled threat.

But Kestrel frowned.

"We'll discuss this." they said, promptly steering Warren and the kids to the other end of the shop. Once they were out of earshot, Kestrel gathered the group of them into a makeshift huddle.

"We should do it," they argued. Warren shook his head and reached to clasp their arm.

"Absolutely not."

"It's the only way through, and the only payment he'll take. You need to finish the mission."

"I don't care if it's the only way, we're gonna find another option," he insisted, a note of restrained fear clogging his voice, "You do not get to sacrifice yourself today."

"Hey, hey, it'll be okay," Kestrel said, taking his arm from their arm and giving it a comforting squeeze, "It'll be fine. He holds onto me for a couple days, you complete the mission, trade Nero for some gold and come back for me. The worst that happens is that he brags about being the first to catch a changeling, and I sit on the floor for a few days."

"I can't let you-"

"Warren. We need to finish the mission. It's the only way forward," they concluded, then popped up on their toes to pull him into a kiss. They pulled back quickly, doing their best to stifle a sigh, "It'll be fine. I promise."

Before he could protest, they turned and walked straight up to the broker.

"Well done," Kestrel said, sarcasm dripping from every word, "You've just caught yourself a changeling."

____

They were given a chain, clamped around their ankle and securing them to the wall at the far corner of the shop. It didn't take much inspection to find out that it was enchanted - it shrank and expanded with them, making it impossible to escape through shapeshifting. Clearly the broker knew what he was doing. Either he'd caught other shapeshifters in the past, or his desire to capture a changeling was far from a spur-of-the-moment wish.

Kestrel sat on the floor, propped against the wall with their legs stretched out in front of them. Hours had passed since the shopkeeper granted passage to Warren, Kendra, and Seth, and so far the worst Kestrel had come across was a backache and a bit of mild boredom.

At one point, the broker brought another person in. Kestrel hardly paid attention. It didn't matter. He was another in the magical creatures trade, they were sure, just someone the shopkeeper could share his insufferable peacocking with.

"Look at this," he said with a grin, gesturing at Kestrel, "I'm the first in the world to capture a changeling."

"How are you defining capture?" they cut in, before the second man could respond.

"Excuse me?"

"You're claiming to be the first to capture a changeling, right?" Kestrel said, with a casual tilt of their head, "So... is capture the chain? Or is it just being bound to one place- or one person?"

"What does it matter, beast?"

"I have a name."

"One you won't share." The broker pointed out, lifting an eyebrow at them, "I'm aware of the concept."

"You can call me Kestrel. It's better than beast," they responded, careful to keep their voice neutral even as vague discomfort began to twist through their chest, "And as for the capture... you're really not the first. I've been 'bound' to the same cabin on a hidden preserve for three and a half years now. I've been bound to the same person for well over five. And-"

A sly grin pulled at the corners of their mouth. Their dark eyes sparked with mischief.

"I can't say he hasn't tied me up before."

That got a scoff from their captor, alongside a look of veiled disgust. The second man looked vaguely amused, almost smug. Kestrel had the impression that these two were rivals in the trade.

"Alright, changeling." the broker hissed, "Why don't you show my friend something interesting? Transform."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Kestrel drawled, leaning their head back against the wall behind them, "No."

"You don't eat until you transform."

"Is that meant to be a threat?"

"Transform. Now."

"No thank you."

"I think I'd better go," the broker's friend jumped in, already beginning to wander back towards the front door. The shopkeeper's expression darkened with every step he took.

He turned that expression on Kestrel, just for a moment, and a chill ran up their spine.

They'd made a monumental mistake.

____

Warren walked into the shop, a bag of gold clutched in one hand. It had taken him almost a week to collect the gold. Bartering with the cave troll had gone south, and collecting the money through other means took three times as long. His heart ached in his chest at just the thought of Kestrel, captured here for far too many days.

"Ah, I had a feeling I'd see you again!" There was something smug in the broker's expression, a broad grin laced with unpleasant darkness.

"I want my changeling back." Warren demanded, lifting the bag of coins, "I have the money."

"Of course," the broker agreed, with the same twisted smile. He lifted a hand towards the back of the shop, "It's right over here."

The creature at the end of the chain was not Kestrel. Warren knew that from a glance. They shifted wildly, their form hardly remaining still for a moment. He caught sight of a dozen animals, some real and some not, but none were familiar. He found himself watching for ginger hair, rusty feathers, Kestrel's dark eyes, even so much as a flicker to prove they'd still held onto themself...

And there was none. Their form just kept changing, so quickly it made his eyes ache.

"You bastard-" Warren growled, whirling on the shopkeeper, "What did you do?"

"I," the broker responded with a terrible smile, "Have become the first person in history to effectively break a changeling."

For a moment, Warren's expression was downright murderous.

Then it smoothed over, albeit with a very palpable effort. He would fix this. He had to fix this.

"I want them back," he repeated, his voice veering dangerously low despite his best efforts to remain cordial. He hitched the bag up onto the countertop, listening to coins clink and rattle against each other at the motion.

"Hm." the broker said, picking through the bag of gold, "I'm afraid this is just not enough."

"It's twice what you asked for our passage. Pure gold. That's more than enough."

The shopkeeper thought this over, his fingers idly picking through the coins. Warren kept a close eye - he wouldn't put it past this man to slip a little gold into his pocket when he glanced away.

"Fine. I will accept this sum," the broker finally agreed, drawing out the words. There was something dark in his eyes as he crossed the floor, "Provided the changeling wants to go with you, of course."

Warren pursed his lips, firing a brief glance at the corner of the room. He wasn't sure Kestrel would remember him- he wasn't even sure there was a Kestrel behind that shapeless mass.

But he'd never forgive himself if he didn't get them out of here.

"Changeling!" the broker snapped, sharply and suddenly enough that Warren flinched, "Shape up. Pick something. You have a visitor."

Warren's frown only deepened. He understood now why Kestrel was so shapeless. The broker refused to even call them by name, refused to even see them as anything more than an animal. If he were in their position, he was sure it would break him too.

As the two of them approached, Kestrel's whirlwind of shapeshifting began to slow. With a visibly arduous effort, their form pulled inwards until they were nothing more than a small gray dog, lying on its side and panting. Warren could see their ribs and hips through the skin - had the broker been feeding them at all? Was that just another tactic he'd used to break them?

Emotions roiled within him. He felt sick with the tangle of guilt and anger that twisted in his gut. He should have been faster with the money. He shouldn't have let Kestrel give themself up at all. He only prayed he could fix this.

He crouched before them, and after a beat's hesitation reached out to set his palm on the dog's side. The animal's tail thumped weakly against the floor. He wasn't sure how to interpret that.

"Kestrel," he murmured, hating how broken his voice sounded, "Kes, honey, I'm gonna get you out of here. But you have to help me."

The dog lifted its head, looking at him with dark eyes. It was hard to tell if there was recognition in them, Warren thought. He hoped so, but... really they just looked tired and weak. The band of flesh around their ankle, where the chain had been secured for now almost a full week, was red and raw from the friction of moving.

"Kes, please..." Warren tried again, fighting hard to hold back the pain in his voice. He didn't want the broker to hear his desperation. He cleared his throat and ran his palm gently over the dog's side. "Let me take you home. Let me take care of you. Let me... fix all the mess I made."

The dog blinked once, then let its head fall back to the cold floor beneath it. It let out a heavy sigh and shut its eyes.

Warren, of course, saw the gesture as weary confirmation, an invitation for him to pick them up and carry them out of this damned shop - allowing themself to finally relax because they'd recognized that they were safe, he was here, rescue had come. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe his love for Kestrel, his desperate want for them to return, clouded his interpretation. But he thought that was what it was.

The shopkeeper did not see it that way.

"Looks like a negative to me," the broker said, clearly biting back a smile. He thought he'd won. Warren was disgusted.

He got to his feet and turned, not bothering to even dignify the shopkeeper with a response. He'd get more gold. There had to be some sum in which greed would win out. Triple, quadruple the original fare, it didn't matter. He'd find it. He'd do whatever he had to if it meant freeing Kestrel from this horrible place.

Just as Warren moved to take a step, a hand caught his wrist and held on tight. It froze him in place, soft petals of hope blooming in his chest.

Kestrel wasn't quite human. The hand on his wrist was strangely shaped, too many fingers on a too-long arm. Their face was the same - close enough, a mouth and a nose and a set of eyes, but still about two steps from familiar. They winced, visibly fighting to find words.

"No," they croaked, "I want to go with him."

Their form continued to shift, strangely and painfully, but slowly they became a bit more human. After several long beats of silence, the face Warren saw before him was that of a young girl, ten or eleven. She had brown hair, faintly curly, alongside a heart-shaped face and a strong nose. And she had Kestrel's sharp, dark eyes.

He knew who this girl was, though he'd never seen her himself. This was Kestrel's prior form, Debbie Browning, the first familiar thing they'd managed to latch onto. The thought generated a fresh bud of hope, deep in his chest. They remembered. And if they'd gotten this far, a fragment of a life that still pained them, he was sure the rest would return as well.

"I want to go." they repeated in Debbie Browning's young, vaguely East Coast-accented voice, "I want to go with you. Please."

Warren shifted his grip, folding their hand into his own and giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I've got you," he promised, voice faintly hoarse with emotion, "I'm gonna take you home."

Then he turned his eyes towards the broker and gave him a challenging look.

"There's your affirmative. You've got the money. Unlock the chain."

The shopkeeper looked far from pleased, but he muttered something under his breath. The chain around Kestrel's ankle popped open with a harsh click.

The instant they were free, they were scrambling forwards, clinging to Warren like they worried the broker would snatch them away again. The action made fresh guilt well in him, even as he wrapped them in his arms.

"I've got you, Kes," he repeated, "I've got you. It's okay."

As he spoke, he shifted his grip and stood up, their small form still held tight in his arms. Their back hitched under his palm, and he realized a moment later that they were crying. Warren let out a shaking breath of his own, walking out of the shop as quickly as he could.

He was almost to the car when he felt their form begin to shift again. It was just as arduous a shift as the prior one, though a lesser change. Their hair straightened, brightened, lengthened until it fell down their back in a tide of rusty ginger. They didn't get much taller, but their proportions stretched and matured as he held them. This form was familiar to him. This form was Kestrel.

They buried their face against the side of his neck, their grip on him never softening.

"Warren," they whispered, as if they'd only just remembered his name. He ran his hand in comforting circles over their back.

"Hey, Kes," he murmured, ducking his head to kiss their temple. His hands trembled with relief. He thought he'd lost them. He'd never have forgiven himself. "You alright?"

It was a stupid question. They were far from alright. But he didn't know what else to say, and he couldn't stand the silence.

"I feel..." Kestrel mumbled, then shook their head against his shoulder, "I want to go home."

"I know, baby," he said, managing to get a hand free to pull open the door to his car, "I'm gonna get you home. Want to lay down in the back?"

Kestrel nodded, another faint motion against his shoulder, and Warren gently helped them into the back seat. They curled up there, limbs pulled in tight to their chest. They looked just as thin and exhausted in this form as they had in the shop. It made his heart ache.

Warren reached past them and snagged a blanket from the trunk, tucking the garment around as best he could manage. Kestrel shifted, clutching at the fabric.

"I'll find us something to eat on the way," he added, "What are you hungry for?"

"I don't know," Kestrel sighed, sounding weary and close to sleep, "I'm just... hungry."

"Alright. I'll find something," Warren promised, reaching out to stroke their hair. Kestrel hummed lightly, leaning into the touch like it was the only comfort in the world.

"Thanks for..." they started, the words punctuated by a yawn, "Thanks for coming back."

"Always, honey." His voice was choked with the reminder of how long it had taken him, the state that delay had left them in. He almost couldn't speak past the weight of his emotions.

"I'll always come back for you."

#my friends!!!#answered asks #my writing #my ocs #oc kestrel #oneshot #ficlet #angst #whump #hurt/comfort #fablehaven #warren burgess

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innocence-wont-save-you · 4 months

Note

[An overseer is ‘sitting’ next to the scavenger as they look at Innocence’s sleeping form.]

Hey bud, isn’t it kinda weird our friend is uh… still sleeping? Like, we should be moving out by now. I mean I know we’ve been waiting for like, six minutes, but it feels like a month! And yeah, I know you don’t understand me.

(OOC: Heyyyy so uh, sorry if it’s rude but I didn’t see a place to submit an ask on the website so I’m asking here. Is this blog ever going to be updated in the near future? If not, do you plan to still continue it or is like, irl stuff putting weight in your shoulders? I wanna join the disc and ask questions but stupid anxiety is making me not do it. If you’re still working on it or left the project, don’t feel pressured to continue, it would be selfish of me to ask that of you.

tl;dr: I kinda just want an update on the current situation Innocence Won’t Save You is in.)

OOC: YES HI HELLO I'M STILL ALIVE THANK YOU FOR ASKING ACTUALLY

Short answer: Yes there's. Shit going on in my life. Mostly school work; this has been one of my busiest quarters so far and I'm constantly swamped with work and haven't had the free time to really sit with IWSY and work out what I want/need to do.

Longer answer: Yes there is currently no way to submit on the website I am so sorry. When I said this would move off Tumblr I meant it and I was finding ways to do that, but I kept hitting roadblocks because I started learning web dev Solely for IWSY. Ultimately my progress on the javascript tutorial stalled (due to aforementioned busyness) and other people let me know that Neocities isn't... the best place to host comments locally? So that threw a wrench into the plans.

I've admittedly not written much for IWSY in the time since I announced we'd be migrating off Tumblr. In hindsight I kind of wish I'd waited a little, but I think this quarter would have done this to me regardless of if I'd wanted to migrate or not. However, I still want to work on IWSY. This project is NOT abandoned. I'm just very busy :'D in a good way though! After a bit of a rough spell, my life right now is, without exaggeration, the best it's ever been, and aside from just plain being busy, I'm also trying to enjoy being alive for once. Unfortunately it means things have been and will continue to be very, very slow here for the foreseeable future.

But I do have a small update. I gave up on trying to code comments locally, and instead found an open source commenting plugin called Isso that I'm hoping to install on the website. Actually doing so will require time I don't currently have since I. Uh. Don't know python. But if all goes well, I will have that set up at some point, and then I can get started on scene 14. I can't guarantee anything on that while this quarter is still going on unfortunately, but I will promise you all that once my summer break starts (which is in June since my school runs on a quarter system), I'll put more time and effort into this again.

If you'd like to help get the comments set up I would deeply appreciate it, but again I don't think I can see myself writing any long form creative fiction until I have the time to dedicate my mind to it, especially given what IWSY is. I'm really sorry about that, but I'm glad to hear that you're still interested in this story! So sorry about the radio silence, I really should have updated a few times since the last post I made, but thank you again for asking and reminding me to at least say something.

So TLDR, no the story isn't dead, I'm just hella busy and trying to appreciate life.

#for a more personal update: i befriended my roommate and now i have access to cuddles :)#he's a very sweet person but he also happens to be a partial cause of me not having as much time #because i opt to spend time with him instead of cooping myself up in my room working on my laptop #way more fun? yeah! but it means i have less time for stuff like this while the quarter wears on #i also have some research obligations on top of four classes so i am Swamped #bear with me while i ride out the rest of may and the first half of june #but mark my words. i Will be back #and i'm slowly cooking stuff for IWSY in the process #nothing i can reveal but there has been some new stuff since i last wrote for this story #also if you've seen my work on the mods wiki: shhh #it's easier to write nonfiction

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androidcharles · 1 year

Text

Rockin' the House Chapter 2

*accidentally posts the second chapter on AO3* Haha... whoops?

Uh, either way... chapter 2 is here! Along with chapter 3 I guess I'll be posting THAT in a minute. Here is where the band starts, but what kind of obstacles will lie in Amelia, Charles, and Dave's path?

(also @bluetorchsky I borrowed Accordion and Violin for this story, I hope you don't mind, I also hope I didn't make them too out of character...)

Charles looked at the board in the park nearby his home, looking for anything particularly interesting. A couple of places were offering some guitar lessons while some people were looking for help with moving, cleaning, and such. The public board was always fun to look at because he felt like he was connecting with people, even if it was something as simple as a lost cat or dog.

He skimmed the board and gasped as he noticed something that wasn’t there yesterday. He scanned the ad, reading the text as he smiled to himself.

OPENING SOON! Galaxy Bar Livehouse Drinks and live music every weekend!

WANTED! Local talents and bands for tryouts! Performs every month on the weekends! Call the number below for more info!

He studied the paper, taking a picture of it before smiling and messaging Dave.

Dave was sitting on his couch at his apartment, seemingly on cloud 9. The past week he had been IM-ing and chatting with Amelia had been wonderful and what was even better was the date they went on. There was only one person who didn’t seem to approve of his newfound relationship, but he would have guessed that Rupert wouldn’t be a fan of him dating a Toppat.

He didn’t have much to say but only warned him about what he was getting into. As Dave let out a sigh, he suddenly got a ping on his phone. He opened it up and his eyes widened as he looked at the message.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: You wanna do something crazy?

After a bit of chatting, Dave met Charles in the very same park he found the ad in as he stared at it, a little perplexed.

“A band? Aren’t you guys supposed to be doing other things? I mean there’s the occasional cases that you guys get and of course Project SAI isn’t going to find itself…” Dave said.

“We’ve been hitting a few roadblocks on that front. Plus this’ll be a fun little distraction you know!” Charles said, “I can play guitar and you can play the drums! Now all we need is a bass player!”

“Uh, do you know any bass players?” Dave asked.

“Hmmm…. Not really,” Charles said, “But maybe I can teach someone to play the bass! It can’t be that different from playing the guitar right? After all one has six strings and the other has four strings…”

“Some bass guitars have six strings,” Dave said, “And I don’t think that’s very wise. If that’s the case, we’d have to wait a while to try out because we’d be spending so much time trying to teach someone to play.”

“That’s true…” Charles let out a small sigh.

“But if you’re willing to do it, I’ll be happy to take part! Let’s see… tryouts are in two weeks, but these live houses always rotate out bands like clockwork. Especially since most of the time they get discovered by higher talents. So maybe in a few months we can try out!” Dave said.

“Alright, let’s see who’s willing!” Charles asked. So the two got to work messaging whoever they could think of, but found their efforts a bit fruitless.

Charles started with Ellie, who was a bit perplexed as to why she was being asked, but seemed uninterested.

RoseyRose: I’m tone deaf as heck, remember? I’m not gonna be much help to your band…

xXBold_Action_ManXx: With a little practice, you could be a good bass player! It’s all in the technique.

RoseyRose: Sorry Charlie. Maybe ask someone else? 😅

Charles messaged Henry next and got a less than serious answer.

N00BSLAYER2006: I’ll do it, but I’m only playing the triangle 😂

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Geez, I don’t know why I asked you to begin with…

N00BSLAYER2006: I mean I can learn an instrument, but we already have a lot on our plate as is. Maybe you should ask somebody else? 🤨

Charles figured that Dave would probably already be asking Rupert, so he got a little desperate and messaged General Galeforce. The response was expected.

H_Galeforce: I don’t think you’d want an old man performing on stage with you, you know.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Yeah, I figured you’d say that. 😥

H_Galeforce: Plus it’s been a while since I’ve picked up an ax. I’d rather not take that risk, especially at my age. I have a feeling you’ll find somebody, don’t worry. Just don’t let it distract you from your work, alright?

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Yes sir.

“Any luck?” Dave asked. He had just gotten done messaging Rupert, who had given him a resounding “no” mostly because he had other things to worry about. It made sense, after all, if Rupert was going to become captain, he shouldn’t distract himself with frivolous things like this. Plus Charles deduced that if they spent too much time together, they would get sick of each other.

“So who’s left?” Dave said, “I asked a couple of people from work and they didn’t seem to be interested…”

“Time to get truly desperate!” Charles said.

“Who are you gonna contact!?” Dave shouted as Charles opened up his messenger once again.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Hey

Burthalowmew9000: No

xXBold_Action_ManXx: I haven’t even told you anything yet, much less asked anything.

Burthalowmew9000: I’m gonna be real with ya, Chuck, it’s probably something I’m not gonna be interested in.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Don’t call me Chuck… 💢 So you don’t wanna be the bass player for our band?

Burthalowmew9000: No, I don’t But Amy might

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Amelia? Why? I thought she only knew how to play the ukulele…

Burthalowmew9000: She’s been taking lessons from yours truly over the past few months. She might not be stage material, but if you practice enough, I have a feeling she’ll be in performance shape for whatever thing you’re planning

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Does she know how to read music?

Burthalowmew9000: Nope You’re on your own for that one, Chuck.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: I said don’t call me Chuck 😠 Well, alright I’ll ask her.

He quickly switched tabs and began to message Amelia.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Are you busy?

GlitterToppatGirl: Yes I am, obviously.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: No you’re not, because that’s not your I’m busy message.

GlitterToppatGirl: Try again later. What do you want?

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Join our band.

GlitterToppatGirl: What

xXBold_Action_ManXx: You saw what I typed. Hold on, lemme send you the pic. pictureid20395018_0611624.png

GlitterToppatGirl: what

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Would you prefer us to talk about this IRL?

GlitterToppatGirl: What? I mean, yeah. Uh, IDK why you’re bugging me about this though…

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Than let’s meet at the cafe and we can chat about it there 😊

GlitterToppatGirl: 👍

Charles stood up as he motioned for Dave to stand up.

“We’re heading to the cafe to talk about this with Amelia,” Charles said.

“The one where-” Dave said awkwardly.

“Yeah, the one where I almost died, yeah,” Charles said.

“I wasn’t gonna say that but sure…” Dave said softly as they started to head out of the park. They walked down the street, talking about various songs they liked as they headed into the cafe. Charles tried to put on air of confidence as Dave shrunk back a bit, almost trying to hide behind Charles.

“Let’s just sit somewhere and wait for her, OK? She might be a bit,” Charles said, “Don’t worry, if any of these guys give you trouble, I’ll give them trouble back, got it?” Dave meekly nodded his head as they sat down at one of the tables.

“I wonder if they have any conversations about heists they’re planning,” Dave said softly.

“Nah, I’ve already tried eavesdropping here. They can’t exactly talk about much here without getting in trouble, because this is a public place,” Charles said, “Though I wouldn’t be shocked if there was an underground operation…”

“Do you see it?” Dave asked as Charles looked at the floor.

“Nah, nothing. There’s a basement, but if there’s anything down there, I don’t know what it is… ah everything is android proof these days!” Charles said, “That’s why I wanna blend in so badly, I swear.”

“Well, declaring you’re an android out loud is usually the first step but… shouldn’t you be proud of who you are?” Dave asked.

“I am. I really am trust me it’s just… there are days where I feel like I want to be normal, you know,” Charles said softly, “I don’t know if people can handle the idea of an android like me walking around…”

“I mean I still like you! Even before I found out you were an android. And there’s other people too who love you even if you’re an android…. Is this why you wanted to do this? With me? You want to feel more normal?” Dave asked.

“Ah, well, I guess you could say that,” Charles said, “Maybe just maybe… I can feel like a normal person…”

“I’M HERE!” Amelia shouted, slamming the door open.

“Ms. Amelia, would you refrain from being so boisterous when coming in?” one of the employees said as Amelia spotted Charles and Dave. She ran over to the pair, sitting down next to Dave and leaning on top of his shoulder.

“You got taller!” Charles said, “Did you finally hit your growth spurt?”

“Charles, can you click the link I just sent you?” Amelia said snidely as Dave rolled his eyes.

“What’s a link?” Charles said, “Ah, wait, that’s not why we’re here.”

“You wanted to start a band right?” Amelia said.

“I don’t know why, but yeah,” Dave said, “I’m humoring him because it’s not like I have anything else I’m doing between my job and… you know… wallowing in my own anxiety.”

“I’m sorry,” Amelia said, “If I had known how harsh they were to you back than… I would have done something!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! I’m getting better! It’s been… a while, but I’m getting better!” Dave said, “And this might be a good distraction, you know.”

“Dave can play the drums and I’m the guitarist,” Charles said, “And Amelia, Burt told me you’ve been learning how to play the bass, so you can be our bassist.”

“Oh, that’s… great…” Amelia said.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? You don’t think you’re that good?” Dave asked.

“Stage fright? Since we’re a pretty new band, we probably won’t stand out too much until we do a few shows,” Charles reassured her.

“No, no, it’s just, I’m not sure… if… well, how long have you guys been playing your instruments?” Amelia asked.

“Well… general dad gave me his guitar when I was two and a half years old!” Charles said.

“And I played the drums in the jazz band in high school,” Dave said, “Though it’s been a while since I could afford a set to play…”

“Yeah, you guys have been playing for a while, but me? I’ve only recently picked up the bass guitar. Burt’s been a great teacher and all, but performing in front of people seems to be a bit much…” Amelia said.

“Don’t worry. We have about two and a half weeks to prepare. That’s plenty of time to get something prepped and try out. And if we make it, we’ll have plenty of time then to think of an original song or two!” Charles said, “Don’t worry, alright?”

“I’m in!” Dave said.

“Oh, what the heck. I’m in too!” Amelia said, “So where will we be practicing?”

“Mmmm… renting out a studio is a bit… pricey,” Charles said, “I don’t have a lot of disposable income between commission money and my allowance.”

“You get an allowance!? From who!?” Dave said.

“Henry,” Charles said.

“He doesn’t give you a paycheck!? Don’t you work for him!?” Dave shouted.

“Yeah, I get a paycheck from him too, I just consider the work commissions you know, like my paintings,” Charles said.

“Yeah, I get allowance from my daddy all the time,” Amelia said.

“Seriously?” Dave said, “You two still get an allowance?”

“What do you spend all your allowance on, Charles?” Amelia asked.

“Helicopter maintenance. It’s a pricey job, so I have to make sure to keep up. I’ve got all the supplies I need, but I’m short on cash this month because of it…”

“So renting a studio is out than,” Dave said, “Maybe we can practice at your place, Cha- eh?”

“No no no,” Charles said, “Our neighbors… are crazy… one time I played my piano at three in the morning… they acted like I committed a crime.”

“I mean, considering the time…” Amelia said, “What about your place, Dave?”

“Amelia, you’ve been to my apartment. It’s the size of a postage stamp. And my neighbors are crazy too. Like one time, Rupert came over to stay for the night and we were talking around nine PM and I got a noise complaint. And we were whispering too!”

“That’s out of the question than… maybe we can practice at the manor?” Amelia asked.

“Are you sure that’s OK with your dads?” Charles said.

“Well, as much as they hate what you did, they seem to really like you,” Amelia said, “And we just got finished rebuilding our music room.”

“Do you guys have a candy room?” Dave asked softly.

“Yes.” Dave’s eyes sparkled as he took Amelia’s hands.

“I love you,” Dave said.

“What about the band?” Charles asked.

“WE CAN PRACTICE IN THE CANDY ROOM!” Dave shouted.

“I don’t think my dads would appreciate that…”

“So, it’s settled than? We’ll practice at Amelia’s place starting tonight?” Charles asked.

“Eh, tonight?” Dave asked.

“Are you sure?” Amelia said.

“Do you have to work? Are you, uh, planning anything?”

“Like I’d tell you, but no.”

“Not really…”

“Than we have to start tonight. If we practice every other day up until tryouts we can at least be in performance shape. It’ll have to work out!” Charles said.

“Ah, alright, I’ll see if I can get us a practice room,” Amelia said.

“And before we head out there, I figured I’d pass this along,” Charles said, “Dave and I stopped by the music shop on the way here and grabbed this for ya.” Charles handed Amelia a book with music sheets for bass guitar players in it.

“Eh? What’s this?” Amelia asked.

“It’s sheet music. You have to learn how to read it,” Charles said.

“Why?” Amelia asked. Charles slumped in his seat before banging his head on the table.

“Why… why she asks…” Charles said softly as Dave chuckled.

- - - - -

Charles hovered the helicopter over the helipad on top of the roof as he carefully landed, checking his surroundings to ensure that no one else was around. He looked up to see Amelia waving at them.

“I’m a little nervous…” Dave said.

“Just stick by me and you’ll be fine,” Charles said, “Plus, I made sure not to bring anything important with me. I’m just gonna have to hope some Toppat isn’t petty enough to strip this thing for parts…” Charles headed out of his seat and opened the helicopter door, smiling as Amelia motioned for them to follow her.

“The music room is on the first floor, right near the gardens. You remember the gardens, right Dave?”

“Yeah, you showed me all those flowers you grow. And the greenhouses as well!” Dave said.

“Mhm,” Amelia said, “This will be a lot of fun. I got us a practice room booked for pretty much most of the night so we can practice as much as we want.”

“That’s good,” Dave said, “How long should we practice for?”

“Until we get sick of it!” Charles declared.

“So, an hour maybe?”

“I should probably warn you, if you want a snack, you’re better off getting them from me. The kitchen staff is quite kind except for the head chef. I don’t know why, but I was never able to really get along with them…” Amelia said softly.

“Who are they? I bet you once they’re hit with the Charles Charm, they’ll let me have all the midnight snacks I want!” Charles said.

“Please stop saying that. Um, well, don’t worry about it OK? I have plenty of food for us and if you want to stay over-”

“I’m not going that far,” Charles said.

“Ah, right. Well, here we are.” Amelia stopped in front of a set of double doors, opening them up to a wide circular foyer. There were various cubbies with locks on them to protect the instruments within, with several signs going on about ensuring that the instruments were clean before putting them away. Sitting at the desk in the office was a very bored looking Toppat with a musical staff going around his hat, obviously guarding the instruments so they could be rented out proper. In the middle of the room was a raised up stage, with two circular rows of seats surrounding it, obviously meant for private performances.

On the right were five or six studios, one with the recording light on while on the other side were several doors leading to practice rooms of various sizes.

“I’ve got a drum set set up in here so we can practice as much as we want,” Amelia said, opening one of the doors and revealing the set up. There were two music stands, two chairs, two amps for Amelia’s bass (which was nearby) and Charles’ guitar respectively and of course a bright beautiful drum set, which made Dave’s eyes sparkle as he practically barreled towards the set, his eyes glowing as he sat down behind it, kicking the pedal to create a small beat.

“I missed this feeling SO MUCH!” Dave shouted as he started to hammer away on the drums with the drumsticks.

“Well, I guess Dave can get warmed up. Amelia, did you read that music book I gave you?” Charles asked.

“Yep! I didn’t understand it!” Amelia shouted.

“You were supposed to study it so we could play music together…” Charles said softly as he grabbed his guitar out of his case, plugging it into the amp.

“Can’t you just tell me what to play like Burt does?” Amelia said.

“No, because if we write our own songs, you have to be able to read what’s written or else we won’t be able to play!” Charles shouted. Amelia shrunk back, but nodded her head as she grabbed her bass and opened the book.

“Uh, let’s see… Charles, do you think you can help me read this?” Amelia said.

“Ah, geez…” Charles said softly as he walked over to her music stand. Dave kicked the pedal of his drum set, smiling weakly.

“I guess it’ll be a long night, huh?” Dave said softly, mostly to himself.

For about two hours, the three of them struggled to perform together as they argued about various clefs and notes and such. But after a while, they started to get the hang of performing together through it all as they finally managed to finish a song together.

“You were behind by a bit Amelia, but you’re getting better,” Charles said, “I guess you’re better at playing by ear than playing through sheet music…”

“Well, I’ve still gotta learn it right. You’re gonna write our music?” Amelia asked, “Including the lyrics?”

“The lyrics… huh…” Charles said, “I haven’t thought about that. Uh, let’s worry about that later! I could use a break from all this.”

“Yeah me too. Amelia, I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier, I don’t know what came over me…” Dave said.

“It’s fine! We have to work together after all,” Amelia said, “Anyway, we can’t eat in the music room, but there’s room next door that’s perfect for-” As Amelia opened the door, she gasped as she saw two very large looking Toppats sitting in the stage area of the music room.

“Accordion! Violin! I didn’t know you guys were working here tonight!” Amelia said.

“Hello again, Amelia,” Violin said, “And of course, hello Dave.”

“Hi you guys… it’s nice to see you again,” Dave said meekly.

“And who is that?” Accordion asked, pointing to Charles. Charles looked behind him, mostly out of humor before Amelia let out a small sigh, slapping him.

“This is the Unit CC I was telling you about,” Amelia said.

“I’m not Unit CC anymore! I’m Charles Conroy Calvin! I’m an android just like Amelia!” Charles said.

“Ah, I see…” Accordion said, “So you’re the one Amelia was seeing behind everyone’s back, huh?”

“When you say it like that…” Amelia said softly, almost a little saddened by what Accordion said.

“We heard you guys practicing in there. You’re coming along nicely,” Violin said, “What song were you guys playing just now?”

“It was an ancient song. Charles seems to know a lot of them,” Amelia said.

“When I was working for the government, I pillaged a lot of bunkers. You’d be surprised at what ancient songs you can find down in those places!” Charles said.

“I didn’t take a former government agent for the pillaging type,” Violin said.

“Ah, well you’d be shocked,” Charles said, flinching a bit, “Hey Amelia, why don’t we try to come up with some lyrics during the week and see what fits us most?”

“Ah, yeah, that’s good,” Amelia said, “Let’s go eat and we can practice some more!”

- - - - -

Throughout the week, Charles, Amelia, and Dave coordinated their schedules for practicing together. It was a bit difficult to get their schedules to line up exactly, but that didn’t stop them from practicing on their own. Eventually, the next time they were able to meet up, they were more confident than ever before to play.

Charles had managed to write an original song after their first practice and IM’d it to Amelia and Dave, who had been practicing it all week. They were back in the music room at the manor for the second time this week, talking about what they had practiced.

“Did you have a hard time reading the notes?” Charles said, “I was half tempted to label them for you, you know.”

“Nah, I just used a cheat sheet,” Amelia said.

“I’d scold you for that if I didn’t occasionally use my android powers for things like that too,” Charles said, “How about we all play it together and see if we can keep up?”

Charles started to play the first part as Amelia tried to keep up with him, coming in on her cue as Dave drummed along to the beat. Eventually they started to match up little by little as the song came to a close. Charles had a bit of a disturbed look on his face as he gazed at Amelia.

“Amelia, are you sure you practiced what I sent you?” he asked, his voice a bit dark.

“I DID! I practiced it and everything!” Amelia said, “I practiced it so much that my dads got mad at me for playing when I wasn’t supposed to!”

“I practiced my part just fine…” Dave said softly.

“Well, you got a little excited on some parts, but you were able to keep up with me fine. Amelia was a bit behind though,” Charles said.

“Geez, when it comes to music, you sure are harsh,” Amelia said softly.

“I’m sorry I am! We have about a week and a half to actually get this done right and we’re meeting every day after this! I wanna make sure we actually sound like a legitimate band!” Charles shouted.

“You’re doing fine, Amelia, just make sure you’re paying attention to us,” Dave said, “You seem to do heists just fine. You’re always multi-tasking during those.”

“Yeah, yeah, but that’s different,” Amelia said, “I guess if I think about it like that…”

“That’s a bit ridiculous, but if it’ll help you play better, then do what you want,” Charles said, “Why don’t you run a metronome app while we’re playing too? So that way you can keep up with us?”

“And maybe you can use an editing program to make notes on the parts you’re having difficulty with so you can prioritize those a bit more?” Dave asked.

“R-right,” Amelia said, “Let’s see, let’s see… Charles what does that little symbol next to that squiggly line mean?” Charles gave Dave a pleading look, who only shrugged.

“She’s doing her best. This is the first time she’s ever been exposed to something like this, so it’ll take her a while for her to learn,” Dave reassured him.

“Yeah. Let’s run through it again and this time, let’s look at the parts we’re not doing too well with,” Charles said.

Two hours of yelling and practicing later, the three of them were sitting in the stage, a bit exhausted as they looked up at the ceiling.

“I can’t believe how hard playing music really is. I thought it was one of those leisurely activities…” Amelia muttered.

“It’s only leisurely if you don’t take it seriously,” Charles said.

“I guess that’s what we get for doing this,” Dave said, “Are you sure you wanna try out on the day of? We can always hold back for when they actually need people.”

“I don’t wanna miss this opportunity! Besides, once a position like that is snatched up, it’s usually months before another opening happens, even if it’s a starting club,” Charles said, “I know it’s seems impossible, but I have a feeling we can at least sound decent if we practice hard enough.” Charles leaned back a bit, staring at the ceiling before looking to Dave and Amelia.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so harsh on you guys. I guess my passion for music burns a little brighter than you two’s. If you wanna step out, I understand completely,” Charles said softly.

“You’re only harsh because you want us to learn, right?” Amelia said, “So it’s good that you are. I’m glad you’re teaching me how to read sheet music. It’s hard to understand, but it’s really great.”

“Yeah and this is the first time I’ve gotten to play legitimate rock and roll!” Dave said, “Even our jazziest songs didn’t get as exciting as the part you wrote for me!”

“I tried to keep in mind you’re a human and that you probably couldn’t play really difficult parts. It was so hard to balance simple and complex,” Charles said.

“I could probably play something with a triple bass drum, actually! I’ve done it before!” Dave said.

“Wow…” Amelia said, hearts appearing in her eyes as Charles giggled.

“Well, while we’re resting, why don’t we take a look at the lyrics we wrote? You guys wrote something, right?” Charles asked.

“Uh, well, I did write a few things that might be considered verses,” Dave said softly, taking out a small notepad.

“I wrote something too!” Amelia said, accessing her notepad application and scrolling through her recent files.

“Well, let’s see them then!” Charles said, motioning for Dave to hand him the notepad. He opened up his messenger application as he read through Amelia’s notes.

Sunset on the beach Finding myself approaching The full breaking point

And so I run off Into the grainy sand and Make my final move

“What the heck is this?” Charles said, “All these verses are haikus…”

“They are?!” Amelia said.

“Why are they all haikus…” Dave said softly, giggling a little.

“Don’t laugh!” Amelia shouted, shoving Dave as he laughed.

“It’s adorable! I kinda like it!” Dave said. Charles laughed as Amelia’s inseams steamed up a bit, putting her hands in her face as Dave planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

“Well, read my lyrics next,” Dave said. Charles scanned his eyes over the page, feeling a bit sick to his stomach as he read them.

The world going around A cloud of sugar and fairy tales Rising over the land Heading down the trails

And-

“I CAN’T READ THIS ANYMORE!” Charles said, throwing the notebook across the room.

“Geez, you don’t have to be that harsh, it can’t be that bad…” Amelia said softly, walking towards the notebook and picking it up.

“Those lyrics are too sugary soft… what the heck kind of message are we trying to send…” Charles said softly.

“Well, what did you write, oh great band starter?” Dave asked as Amelia cringed at the lyrics Dave had written.

“Um… I’m messaging it right now,” Charles said as Dave and Amelia opened up their messenger apps to take a look.

In a forest deep Black night sky above A fire rages onward Obscuring everything in sight Obscuring everything I love

Wishing for another tomorrow No hope in sight So I keep running into the night So I keep running into the night

“These lyrics are a bit dark…” Amelia said softly, “If we were a metal band, it would work, I guess…”

“Yeah, it’s almost as if they’re trying to tell a story,” Dave said, “Are you… OK, Charles?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine!” Charles said, “I guess I’m not good at lyrics. Amelia, how come all your verses are haikus?”

“I guess when I think of poems, I think of haikus?” Amelia said, “They’re the first thing I learned how to write…”

The three of them were silent as Charles let out a small sigh.

“I really am sorry guys. I didn’t think this would be so stressful,” Charles said.

“I think you’re the only one who’s stressed right now,” Dave said as Amelia snuck out of the room.

“Yeah, but I wanted to do something fun together, but this is becoming less and less fun, you know,” Charles said, “Maybe it wasn’t worth it.”

“I’m having fun! I mean, it’s hard, but I’m having fun! And plus I get to spend lots of time with Amelia too, which is a bonus,” Dave said, “It’s really nice to be able to play music and write something all our own. I have a feeling we’ll figure it out as time goes on.”

“Ah… thanks for the vote of confidence I suppose,” Charles said, smiling.

“Hey!” Dave and Charles jumped slightly as they looked to see Amelia, standing with Accordion and Violin.

“So, how do you guys feel about a bit of coaching?” Amelia said as Charles and Dave exchanged some worried glances.

- - - - -

After a week of coaching from Accordion and Violin, the band was now performing much better then it had before. Amelia was finally able to keep up with Charles and Dave, Charles had managed to finally cool off and stop being so harsh and Dave learned to speak up a bit more so he could put in some input of his own.

At the end of their second original song, Charles breathed out a small sigh as he looked at Violin and Accordion for approval. Violin clapped his hands together, smiling at them.

“Much better than last time. I have to admit Amelia, you’ve come a long way since you first started playing,” Violin said.

“Hey, I wrote the songs!” Charles said. Violin only glanced at him as he shrugged before smiling at Dave.

“Dave, you’re also coming along nicely as well. You just have to make sure you don’t get excited,” Violin said.

“You sound just like my band teacher a long time ago…” Dave said softly, panting a little bit.

“Did you get over-excited in high school too?” Charles said.

“A bit too much. One time I demanded a drum solo… it was a jazz band,” Dave said. Accordion covered his mouth as he smirked and Charles and Amelia chuckled.

“Charles, I hate to admit this, but… you’re doing great as well. In fact, you may be the only thing holding this band together,” Violin said.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Charles asked as Amelia shrugged uncertainly.

“Well, I guess we can call it for now… by the way, what’s our band name?” Dave asked. They all exchanged glances as Accordion leaned forward.

“You guys don’t have a band name? They’re going to ask for it when you go up there to try out,” Accordion said.

“I was more concerned about the songs!” Charles said, “Uh let’s see… it shouldn’t be too hard to come up with a band name!”

The three of them spent thirty minutes brainstorming ideas while Accordion and Violin helped the Toppat in charge of the music room do some organizing. After thirty minutes however, they hadn’t come up with anything really meaningful.

“I wonder if people like Dim Lighthouses or Fading Trails had this hard of a time coming up with a band name,” Amelia said.

“I mean, if you pick a random thing and add something melancholy to it, of course it’s a good band name,” Charles said, “But I’m not sure if I like any of these names. Who suggested the ‘Friends Power Squad?’”

“Uh, I think that one was me,” Dave said sheepishly.

“Hmm… how about we think about us? As a whole?” Amelia asked.

“You mean using our names?” Charles said, “Every time a band’s named after a band member, it tends to go south.”

“How about we use our old names? Unit CC… Unit AM…” Amelia suggested before Dave piped up.

“THE FRIEND UNIT SQUAD!”

“NO!” Charles said.

“Fine! How about CC in the AM then?” Dave said, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. Amelia and Charles exchanged glances once again before Charles beamed.

“That seems like a great name!” Charles said.

“Yeah, but what about your name? It isn’t-” Amelia started before Dave shook his head.

“I just came up with it off the top of my head. It doesn’t have to include my name,” Dave said.

“Are you sure?” Amelia said, her eyes dark with concern as Dave nodded his head.

“I’m sure, Amelia. Besides, it’s a cool name. It feels a bit more unique you know,” Dave said.

“Maybe we can call ourselves CC in the AM with Dave?” Charles suggested.

“NO!”

“That’s kinda stupid actually…” Charles flinched at the feedback as they both giggled. Amelia motioned for the two of them to stand up.

“We should probably get back to practicing. After all, we’ve only got a few days before the tryouts,” Amelia said.

“Yes, let’s do it! Let’s practice till we’re perfect!” Charles shouted.

- - - - -

The day of the tryouts officially came forward, with many messages along the lines of “Good luck!” and “You can do it!” filling their inboxes, they made their way to the live house to finally try out.

The three of them sat nervously in the audience area as they listened to the bands audition. There were a few more bands then they had anticipated and some were actually being rejected. They had a feeling some of them were already established bands, some had some followings on social media according to some internet searches.

The person in charge of the auditions and the live house owner, Ozwald Galaxy, seemed to have some criticism for each of the bands that performed. Which made them even more nervous then they already were.

“Alright, let’s see… CC in the AM?” Ozwald called out as Charles took a deep breath, confidently striding up as Amelia tried to fake some confidence, but was struggling a bit. Dave was already an anxious mess, so he practically scurried up to the stage when Charles and Amelia snapped at him to come on up already as Charles plugged in his guitar into the provided amp. Amelia did the same as they tuned their instruments, Dave getting used to the drums as they looked at Ozwald, who looked a little bored.

xXBold_Action_ManXx: Play with confidence. Break a leg.

GlitterToppatGirl: Gotcha. And thanks.

They played both of their original songs, without lyrics of course as they tried not to pay attention to any little mistakes. Play with confidence and don’t let the pressure get to you. That was the advice that Charles took to heart and hoped that Amelia and Dave would do the same as well.

When they finally finished the last bar of their song, Charles breathed a sigh of relief as he looked at Ozwald hopefully, a little perplexed when he had a sort of confused expression on his face.

“Is there any reason you guys don’t have lyrics to those songs yet?” Ozwald asked.

“Ah, well… we were going to write lyrics but… we haven’t really come up with anything that really matches our sound yet,” Charles said.

“I see, I see,” Ozwald said, writing something down on his clipboard, “I have to admit, your sound is pretty interesting. Very familiar in a pleasant way, very pleasant indeed. The bassist was off by a bit, but she adjusted as much as she could and improvised whenever she was behind, the drummer didn’t have much confidence when he came up on stage, but played like he had a thousand times, and as for you-” his eyes glimmered as he gazed at Charles “-you’re a bit too flashy. But your confidence is the only thing holding this band together.”

“That’s great! Right?” Charles said.

“I didn’t say that was a good thing. Your band mates need to build up their own confidence rather then relying on your own or they’ll struggle in the end,” Ozwald said, “But you guys seem to have a very unique sound. I really like it a lot. So, if I give you about two more weeks to prepare, would you be willing to perform again in front of an audience?”

Charles looked at Amelia in great shocked as Dave pinched his arms as if to check if he was dreaming.

“We got the gig?” Amelia asked.

“Yes, you did. I want you to perform in July, on the fifteenth. You can manage that much, right?” Ozwald said.

“We’ll show you our best, sir!” Charles said.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Ozwald said, drawing a circle on his clipboard before he looked down the list again, “Next up is Round-Up Gang!” Charles and the others cleared the stage as Amelia bounced up and down, Dave taking deep breaths as they exited the live house, almost turning in a tornado of energy as they ran down the street before sitting on a nearby bench.

“I can’t believe… I can’t believe we actually did that!” Amelia said.

“Well, believe it!” Charles said, “I can’t believe we did it either!”

“I can’t believe you weren’t scared of that Ozwald guy!” Dave said, “He seemed so cold and merciless.”

“Oh come on, he was like a kitten compared to half of the sergeants I had to deal with in the government forces,” Charles said, “But he’s right you know. In order to really play well, you guys have to build up your confidence. And I think I know just how to do it…”

“Please don’t make me do push-ups,” Dave said meekly.

“No no, I was more referring to Amelia. I was going to sing, but I was thinking that maybe you should do it,” Charles said.

“Me? Seriously?” Amelia asked. Dave nodded his head in agreement as Amelia shook her head.

“C’mon, you have a great voice! Plus, it will help you build your confidence a little. Especially when it comes to your performance,” Charles said, “Before you say no, think about it as another way to build you up and help you understand music better!”

“Well, I guess it can’t be helped,” Amelia muttered.

“You have a very pretty voice, Amelia! So it shouldn’t be too hard for you,” Dave said, “By the way, what are we going to do about the lyrics? Your lyrics are too dark, mine are too… cutesy according to you guys… and Amelia’s are too formal.”

“I think I have someone who could probably write good lyrics for us!” Charles said. Amelia and Dave exchanged glances, wondering who on the Great Continent they could trust to write lyrics.

#the henry stickmin collection #fan fic #fanfiction #the narrators stories #charles calvin #amelia copperbottom #dave panpa

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alfredosauce50 · 2 years

Text

One more night

[Boxer! Denmark x reader] 9

Wordcount: 2, 776 Rating: R18+ for adult themes and sex The reader is referred to as she/her.

One more night - 9

Dream on

“Asshole,” Amelia shot him a side-eye. She joined Gilbert by the counter, who wore a graphic tee with another reference she didn’t get. He wasn’t the type to go out much, and Allen was still giving him shit.

So much for not being judgmental.

“He’s harmless, Al. Really.” You murmured.

“That’s what you said about Mathias too.” He huffed.

The arms around you tightened. What Allen implied held more truth than any of you liked to admit, but you weren’t throwing anyone under the bus. Not when so many eyes around the room were red.

“It’s Ma—tee—as. Not Ma—thy—as.”

“Whatever,” He mumbled, spooning up some chili. He studied his surroundings as he chewed. Almost everyone was eating, including one unwanted guest. “So what are we even doing, sitting around like this?”

“Some of us were going to the gym,” You answered, leaning forward to retrieve a toy car that rolled off.

“And who’s some?”

Everyone ended up going. Gilbert was the only one in a good mood, seeing how many people joined him.

While everyone was off doing their own thing, you and Amy with the slam balls, Allen on the bench, and his friend on the machines, Mathias sat in the cafeteria with Bob, putting blocks in a shape sorter.

Ten minutes in, you walked over, your shirt slightly damp with sweat. He perked up immediately.

“Tell me if you wanna leave, by the way.” You patted his shoulder. He blinked, but couldn’t be surprised by your suggestion. “We can take the little one home and have the apartment to ourselves for a bit.”

“Why would I want to leave?”

“Did you really want to stay here?” You softened your gaze. When he leaned back with his brows furrowed, you had your answer. “There’s nothing for you to do here. You were better off staying back.”

It was true. The entire neighborhood had shown up, and he was the only one sitting on the side.

“But I didn’t wanna miss out.” Mathias sighed.

“There isn’t a lot you’re missing out on,” You assured.

He didn’t say anything, only kissing you in silent disagreement. You didn’t understand it like he did.

“Just take things at your own pace.”

He had seen a few contestants, their bright red mitts on and ready to train. Their muscles rippled with every jab, punch, and swing, their tired smiles radiating a magnetic kind of satisfaction. They were the talk of the town, the up-and-coming sports stars.

It was a race he had yet to take the first step in.

And the longer he waited, the harder it would get.

“You’ve gained six pounds,” His coach said, pulling his glasses off. “And you’ve lost some muscle mass.”

Mathias was sitting in his office, getting a rundown of his body measurements. A lot was bound to change after a month of inactivity, and more for worse than better, but he was determined to get back on track.

“There are some other things too,” The knowing look in their eyes made the atmosphere a somber one. Regardless, his pupil sat perkily in his chair, eager and ready for anything thrown at him. “All of which—”

He held his breath.

“—can be improved pretty quickly if you started training now.” The man continued.

“Okay!” Mathias nodded, springing up from his chair. “Then we can start now. I’ll go get my wraps.”

“Wait a minute, Densen.” His coach picked up a piece of paper with his index and middle finger. “Medical certificate. I’m not legally allowed to train you until I get the okay from your doctor.”

He swiped it from his hand and skimmed through it. By the time he was done, his lips were pursed in a deep frown. Lifting the paper to his face, he covered himself as heat rushed to his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mathias. These rules are only here to protect you. Come back when you’re all healed up.”

“But that could take weeks.” He uttered, voice faint.

Mathias didn’t realize how torn he’s been until he started crying. It wasn’t the first time he hit a roadblock, and yet, thinking about everything left him tearing up. Nothing was going right.

“How am I supposed to fight?”

“You can’t rush recovery, sport.” The other sighed. Standing from their chair, they took his shoulder and ushered him outside. “Take it from me. Your future self will thank you for taking the break you needed.”

They stopped in the middle of his boxing gym.

“Just give the speed bag a spin.”

Mathias didn’t hesitate to do exactly that, wrapping his hands so he could start punching it. The bag went back and forth as he rolled his fists against it in rhythmic circles. Heat surged throughout his body.

“Otherwise, you gotta sit everything out.”

Getting back on his feet should’ve been invigorating. But as he stepped up his workout—against what his doctor and coach advised—and to the level of what other boxers were at, he burnt out like a light.

After a quick burst of jabs, chin tucked and feet bouncing, his chest began to ache. He grit his teeth and pressed on anyway, swinging at the sandbag until he couldn’t anymore. He lasted twenty minutes.

Mathias lowered himself to a crouch.

His mouth hung agape as he panted. Sweat rolled down to his chin, eyes squinting from pain. The severe stabbing sensation in his chest was a brutal reminder of what everybody had been telling him.

“Can we please get a hamster?”

Everyone was cleaning out the apartment, save for Mathias. Amy mopped the floor, you did the laundry, and Allen polished up the kitchen. It was a system that hadn’t changed since it was created years ago.

“You don’t even like hamsters.”

“I never said that. I just don’t like them as much as dogs,” Allen replied, walking out the door to take out the garbage. When he returned, his voice faded back into earshot. “Or cats. Or even birds.”

“So you don’t like them.” Amy raised her brows.

“I do. I just have favorites,” He scrubbed down the sink before flicking open the tap to wash everything down. “Fish and hamsters are apartment-friendly, and fish are boring. So, we should get a hamster.”

“Whatever it is, we don’t have room for a tank.”

“We so do! It’s just a box. We can put it anywhere.”

“Where? The living room?”

“That’ll be too noisy,” Allen threw a hand towel over his shoulder, turning to you with a shit-eating grin.

“Only including me in the conversation when you need something, huh?” You stifled a smile.

“Hehe.”

“If you’re asking if it can be put in my room, it’s a no.”

His shoulders slumped.

“I’ve got a small room and it’ll probably stink. Don’t think that’ll be good for Mat.” You pinned a shirt with your chin to fold it. Adding it to a neat pile, you then picked up a pair of boxers. “How about the balcony?”

“But that’s cruel!”

“I don’t know where else, then.”

“Okay, okay. Fine.” Allen nodded, raising his arms in defeat. “We’ll just put it in my room. Oh, wait. I don’t have a room. I don’t need a private space, but it’s not fair that you guys aren’t willing to share it!”

“We’re cramped enough as is. Having a rodent might just take up the last bit of oxygen around here.” Amy glided in with her mop. She followed her brother with her gaze, who plummeted on the couch, sighing.

“Then we won’t get a hamster. Happy?”

You and Amy were back in her room, huddled in front of Mathias’s laptop, looking at the PetSmart website.

“There goes my trip to the Bahamas,” She grumbled, adding a cage to her cart. Inside it was also wooden shavings, pellets, treats, and toys which you both would split. The hamster part would come later.

“You put aside a fifty-bucks for the Bahamas?”

“Hey, I can dream.”

“I mean, if we flew to Florida and caught a ship there, that would probably be a few hundred.” You nodded.

“See? Perfectly doable! But we also gotta stop by Disneyworld on the way.” She beamed.

“Now, that’s not very doable.”

“I said I was only dreaming.”

Mathias came home an hour later. He went straight to the sink to wash his shaker, splashing some water on the sides. Allen sat further up the couch to watch him ruin an hour’s worth of good work.

“You gonna wipe that?”

“Yeah, sorry.” The Dane peered over his shoulder. After leaving the kitchen spic and span, he ambled into Amy’s bedroom. You were on his laptop, playing flash games. “(F/N), Can I talk to you?”

“What’s up?”

He closed the door behind him. When he turned to you, his laptop was closed and you were on the bed, waiting for him. The simple gesture left him smiling gently, which was very telling after today’s events.

“I did my PTs today,” He joined your side.

“And how were they?” You asked.

Mathias turned to the wall in front of him.

“They were alright.”

And yet, he kept his head down, unable to look at you. When he was this quiet, this reserved, he always had the worst on his mind. You figured as such, so you leaned your head against his shoulder.

“My ribs are getting better, but I haven’t worked out in a month. I’m starting to lose my muscles.”

“Can’t you gain it back?”

“Maybe if I started now,” He glanced down at you, darting his eyes over yours. It hurt to say what he’d been holding in, but not as much as your reaction.“But I won’t be fully healed for another month.”

“Okay? What if you start then?” You piped up faintly.

“That’s two months I haven’t trained,” He pressed his head to your chest. His voice grew fainter and fainter as he spoke, all until this came out as nothing but an anguished whisper. “I don’t think I’ll make it in time.”

Allen stood outside the door, listening in to the conversation. And there, he let his guilt fester all over again. He never meant to hurt his nephew. And he definitely never meant to jeopardize Mathias’s career.

What he could only hope to do now was to make it up him, but how could he right something so wrong?

“I’m staying at Mat’s place tonight.”

“Okay. When are you coming back?” Allen asked. There was no resistance on his end, not even the urge to question why. He just let go. Or maybe, he was finally being understanding like he wanted to be.

“Tomorrow after work,” You replied, lifting a tote with some necessities—your uniform, wallet, and keys.

“Want me to pick you guys up?”

“I’ll call you.”

You walked to the door with Mathias, who had his duffel, ready to go. He stepped out first.

“Tell Amy where I am, okay?”

“Okay.”

Before you left, you lingered around in the doorway. Your hesitance caught Allen’s attention, but he never opened his mouth to say anything. Not until you did. So there he stood, watching your back expectantly.

“Allen?”

“Yeah?”

You turned to him, eyes downcast.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” You uttered.

“And what did you say?” He leaned on the counter.

“That I was just your friend,” Your gaze saddened, and you couldn’t bear to stay here any longer. But you made sure he heard this before you left for the night. “You’ll always be my brother.”

The door clicked shut.

“Whatever you say,” He sighed.

Going back to Mathias’s was a breath of fresh air, only his place smelled just like him. It had that clean, woody scent you loved. And you didn’t realize how much you missed him until you were drowning in it.

“What’s with the bear?” You picked up a tiny teddy from his bedside table. It had a blue-striped outfit and bright red heart sewn in the middle. Everything was just as he left it, including his shopping.

“Remember when we went to IKEA?” He asked, sliding off his bed and walking over to you.

“Uh-huh. Did you buy it for yourself?”

“Kind of,” Mathias took it from you and started playing with it. He spun it from side to side, letting the arms hit your forehead gently. “For the future. But maybe I should just give it to Bob.”

“You don’t have to. He has plenty of toys.” You huffed out, a little embarrassed by what he implied. But you were insistent on one thing. Taking the teddy, you put it back where you found it. “You should keep it.”

“Why? I don’t need it.”

“Then why did you buy it?”

“I wanted it in the moment. But maybe I shouldn’t have bought it.” He scratched his head.

“Maybe.”

Mathias followed you into bed. He pulled you onto his thighs so you could straddle him. Your hands went against his chest, heart pounding as you stared at him. And he stared back, smiling gently.

It was different now that you were at his place, in his bed. And the privacy was intoxicating.

“Did you want me to keep it?”

“I said that, didn’t I?”

“You can’t answer my question with a question.”

“Why not?”

He laughed. Then, he leaned in. His lips connected with yours in an open-mouthed kiss. The heat of his tongue alone could get you light-headed, but he was never one to hold back. So he stuck it down your throat, drowning you with the taste of him.

By the time he stopped kissing you, every last bit of your clothes was gone, and his hands were pumping you up and down your waist. That and the sight of his twitching cock left you dripping wet.

Seeing it left him aching for a hot fuck.

You wanted him just much as he wanted you, and it drove him mad. But before he let loose, he got a condom. Tearing open the wrapper, he put it over the head of his dick and rolled it down to the base.

You had sex with him for hours. It felt so good to finally do it with him, but good was barely the word to describe the feeling of connecting with him. While you rode him into oblivion, head rolled back and mouth agape, you cried quiet tears of satisfaction.

“Are you really pulling out of the tournament?”

You lay next to him, your body ravished and head clearer than ever before. There was no part of you he hadn’t touched, kissed, or penetrated, no crevice of your mind he hadn’t invaded. But with that clarity returned the grief from his waning motivation.

“Don’t give up.” You reached out to his cheek, face warping with sadness. “You tried so hard.”

“Don’t think about that now,” Mathias took your hand and kissed the knuckles. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his cheeks were rosy, and his heart was still pounding. “Just lay with me.”

He was spent after going at it for hours, and so satisfied, he couldn’t be sad. His restless mind was in a dream-like state, put to sleep by your body. And so, Mathias was content for the first time in a long time.

He hadn’t had you for too long. And once he did, he reached a high so good, he fell asleep smiling.

The tournament was in four months. He had three to train. When he’d finally start, he’d have lost so much muscle mass, heart health, and skill, reaching his old condition in time would’ve been a miracle.

Surpassing everyone else would take another one. Nobody in their right mind would believe he could pull it off. Not his doctor, coach, or any of his friends. It was only Allen that wasn’t in his right mind.

Not entirely, anyway.

The next morning, he pulled up to Mathias’s place.

You already left for work, so it was just him making eggs. While he stirred it in the pan, he wiped a drop of sweat that hung off his eyebrow. The Summer heat was unforgiving, and his realities even more so.

Waking up alone was a harsh reminder of them.

His career had come to a standstill.

Breathing out a sigh, he took the pan off the stove. Before he could dig in, he heard a knock on his door. Did you forget something? When he opened it, he fully expected it to be you standing outside.

“Hey.”

Only it was anyone but.

“You get in a good workout lately?”

Allen was at his doorstep, gym bag slung over his shoulder and shaker in one hand.

Next chapter: Thunderstruck

Tag-list: @sunnysssol @chicha027 @javelintine

#one more night #omn #aph denmark #hws denmark #boxer au #boxer denmark #2p america #2p! america #nyo 2p america #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia x reader #hetalia fanfic #boxer denmark x reader #update #alfredosauce50

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thedevilsrain · 1 year

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waw personal post about having sisters and radicaI feminsm underneath

had like. an interesting chat with my sister about... basically trans issues yesterday. she isnt a full blown t3rf, she basically agrees Trans People Exist And Are Not Perverts (a thought my other sister doesnt share), but she agrees with a lot of transphobic and t3rf sentiments, mostly out of sheer ignorance

i broke down to her a few stereotypes, such as that there is a binary between trans people and their appearance (transfems are always feminine, transmascs are always masculine, non binary people are always "androgynous"), told her there are trans people who dont go on t, and that trans women literally never equalize their upbringings to that of cis women - they equalize their upbrings to that of other trans women

also told her that the fact transmascs are rarely seen in media/news arent because of "misogyny", its because the media finds it much easier to attack a "man" dressed as a "woman", than a "woman" dressed as a "men" (which then reveals their own transphobia because they just think the latter case is a "confused woman" while the first is a "pervert" if that makes sense)

and like.. it was good. she listened. again, most of it came from ignorance - hearing all the shit our other sister says, and not knowing any trans people herself, besides from the videos of Bad Trans People she would see shared around

(specifically, she brought up a video she'd told me about before, of a trans person at a rally saying "Iesbians will suck dick!" and saying she was baffled by it; to which i calmly explained there were not just trans women who were lesbians, but cis women who dated them, and that the matter of genitaIia isnt, for the lack of a better word, "ignored" or "forced" upon cis women)

funny enough the only thing we hit a wall out was the word t3rf itself - i told her at the end that it was nowhere close to being a slur like the T slur, and she said "t3rf is to feminits what the T slur is to trans people". when i told her "being called a t3rf doesnt get you killed in the streets" she scoffed and said "of course it does", even she stated herself braziI remains the country that kills the most trans people

i gave up after that mostly because we were both kind of tired, but another thing i hit a roadblock at was when she said "i'm honestly just tired of this whole discussion", and it honestly hurt me a bit. not because she didnt want to continue discussing it, but idk, just the way she said it made it seem like "oh can we discuss if trans people deserve to live some other day"

and on a darker note when i told her our sister wants trans people to die, she said (jokingly) "no she doesnt, she just wants them like.... to go away", and i said "yeah, go away, hide in the closet, and die" and she actually laughed and agreed because we both know that its the level our other sister has reached

overall again as i said, surprisingly good talk. shes very hesitant to mention the topic of trans issues with her Igbt friends because of her own bigoted friends, and i hope shes at least more willing to learn now

also she hopefully learned that jk roIando (as i call her) Is Bad because shes literally associating w friends of neo nazis now lol

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project-sour-grapes · 8 months

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State of the Union

I have hit the same roadblocks repeatedly in my life for 29 years. Or 26, if we consider that the first 3 years of life are basically boilerplate.

After a childhood of being told I was special, or after my temperament demanded that I be treated as special, or some feedback loop of the two, I am accepting that I am not. I am not inherently special. At the very least, acting like I am has gotten me nowhere. I half-ass everything I do. I rest on my laurels. I wait for things to turn into emergencies before I take action. I sit and observe things, and--while there is a role for the philosopher-sitter-observer in life--this has prevented me from taking action and making things happen. Whenever I hit an obstacle, I give up. Or I think of changing course entirely. I could be sailing in the middle of the ocean and come across a log and say, "Shoot, I better turn around."

I started this blog as a goodbye to that sort of thinking. I started it as a way to catalog my journey away from that life. But I'm turning around and realizing I'm merely a foot further from shore than I was a year ago.

There's that Confucius saying about "going slow" vs "stopping" along your journey that any Tumblr veteran knows. But this trajectory is just not satisfactory. I am going so slow towards my goals that it's almost as bad as being stopped. Hell, it might be worse, because I can comfort myself with my millimeters of progress, and say, "Well, I'm moving," and then blame the microscopic magnitude of it on anything that feels comforting at the time. "That's just how the system works." Or, "I'm just being patient." Or, "Maybe this just isn't the right path for me."

And maybe this isn't the right path for me. But I'm not going to find that out by being mediocre. Or by working only one hour a day toward my goal.

I was talking to my mother a few weeks ago about why I can't finish anything I start, big or small. I told her that I wanted to leave healthcare already and that my patients were starting infuriate me. Then after the hour-long practical conversation about work-life balance and "pros and cons," which is all of the typical career advice that anybody ever gets, she just said frankly, "Whatever you're running from, once you realize it and are ready to stop running, you'll find your goal."

The things that came to mind when she said that include:

running from body dysphoria (since I'm a man born with female body parts)

running from my desire for but difficulty with building friendship and relationships

running from my gigantic ego, since I don't know what to do with it

As I'm writing this, I want to stop and change course real quick. What if what I'm running from is my huge ego? And my fear of it means it just comes out in unhealthy ways? My repeated career and relationship failures would show as much.

Old school psychology is kind of goofy, but I'm thinking of Freud's concept of sublimation, where anything that we bury just comes out in new, weird ways. And in Jungian psychology, the things we don't like about ourselves or that are the more animalistic parts of ourselves (our "shadow") will make themselves known one way or another. The most vital, carnal parts of the human psyche fester like a pressure cooker unless we let off steam in a healthy way. "What we resist persists" is a true statement even for the ego.

I can't resist my ego. I can only channel it. The human ego is a powerful force, and with that, there are only two things I can do with that energy:

use it to compress diamonds in my own life

use it to make coal to burn others

Looking at the track record of my life, I have gotten most off track after I have accidentally acquired a pile of coal and then decided to weaponize it. Perhaps this was because I felt entitled to diamonds instead, and lighting the coal was a "fuck you" to those I had held my hand out to.

I think my mother was right. I am running from something. (Maybe several things, but) The something is my ego.

I'm not going to bury it or accept being average (at least the kind where no progress is being made year-over-year) or Buddhism my way out of it. I am going to run with it.

"What is the best way to ride a horse? The direction in which it is running." -Somebody

There are a few analogies for embracing the ego that I want to mull over the next few weeks. The ego is:

like fire in that it can keep you warm and aid in survival or it can burn your house down

like nuclear power in that it is the most efficient form of energy known to man or it can poison entire cities if handled poorly

like a German Shepherd or Belgian Malinois; it can either sniff out the bombs and incapacitate the bad guys or it can rip up your entire living room and shit the bed

It's not the ego that is the problem. It's what you do with it. It's where you point it and why.

Anything powerful can be both protective and harmful. Who are you serving with your ego: yourself or your community? Ideally, it would be a mix of both. My problem has been lopsidedness and then victimhood and self-righteous indignation when nobody even asked for my lopsideness to start.

With all of that being said, a few things are true:

I am not special and the world owes me nothing.

I have a huge ego, and if I work for what I want, I will fucking get it or something even better

It's the tension between these statement that gives rise to human motivation (past the lizard brain motivations like food, water, etc.). It's like in Ernest Becker's "Denial of Death," where he says mankind's greatest achievements are pitiful attempts to live forever. Or F. Scott Fitzgerald's belief that we should be able to "hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless yet be determined to make them otherwise." We are both statistically not special in a world of 8 billion people and such an expansive universe, and yet having an ego is the most human thing ever.

And that's the universe: just paradoxes and the tension between them, and mankind's convenient spot at the center. Everything in the universe is in flux. Nothing in the body or in nature is static. It's all trajectories and voltages and potentials in the Physics sense.

Thus I will both accept that I'm not special and that my ego is gigantic, and that's aight.

How do I channel the powerful force of the ego in a healthy way then, like those superhero movies montage where the hero starts using their powers and sucks at first and breaks everything in their kitchen but then masters them? Honestly, fuck if I know. I have shit to do the rest of tonight, and I'm going to have to think on this one.

Will come back with more ideas, but the goal is not to squash the ego, but to channel it for good. Don't put out the fire, just learn how to use it like any other tool.

That's it for now.

Other quotes that are on my mind today:

Life is a numbers game.

The grass is green where you water it.

Have a good one.

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alicemichelle297 · 2 years

Text

"Hold To My Hand" - The Last of Us episode 4 recap

Joel and Ellie make a pit stop to siphon off some gas for Bill's truck and to practice gunplay.

Joel actually addresses something in apocalypse fiction that bothers me: gasoline breaks down over time and wouldn't be usable this long into the apocalypse. The show presents this as a reason to need to siphon off gas often, which is better than not acknowledging the problem at all.

HBO continues to faithfully adapt its source material, keeping in Ellie's pun book and lifting the scene wholesale where Ellie finds a pornographic magazine from Bill's place. It's actually an interesting case study in how two different actors can interpret the exact same script completely differently as Bella Ramsey's tone in the scene is completely different from Ashley Johnson's version.

When the duo stops for the night to camp, Joel mentions the threat of uninfected humans outside the quarantine zones again, saying they'd have "way more in mind" than robbing them. This nicely connects to the prevalence of slavers in the second game and with the ambush they'll face later in this same episode. And we get a nice moment showing Joel's addiction to coffee, which is brought up in The Last of Us Part II as well.

When Joel and Ellie reach Kansas City, they're met with roadblocks and notice that the QZ has been abandoned and left wide open. With no military presence here, the city is home to bandits and other dangers.

A man stands in the middle of the road, in need of help. Instead of stopping, Joel hits the gas. It was a trap meant to trick them into stopping the car to help him, but when Joel doesn't fall for it, they resort to shooting to get what they want. Joel is able to dispatch most of them on his own, but when one sneaks up on him, Ellie is forced to step in.

We see Ellie shoot a man for the first time, on screen, but we learn later that she has shot someone before. Joel is stuck saying that it isn't easy for a child to have to do violent things, which Ellie mocks by asking if it's easier when you're older. That was such a dark line for her, but it really expresses her worldview in as few words as possible.

Kansas City is being run by a woman named Kathleen and her militia. It's not immediately clear what their goals are, only that Kathleen is looking for Sam and Henry and that she's keeping some kind of secret in a warehouse which I assume is some kind of infected like a Bloater or something.

Kathleen is a bit too comic book villain for this series, from what we've seen so far. She holds a doctor at gun point demanding information and then later walks in and shoots him down seemingly for no reason other than to make herself feel better. Nothing against the actor, I just think this is bad material to work with. It doesn't lead me to care about this place or these people, it makes me hope Joel and Ellie get out of here as soon as possible so I don't have to see this storyline for much longer.

They literally bring one dead man to her doorstep and Kathleen blames it on Sam and demands that her people go forth and kill everyone they can find. Like what is going on?

Joel and Ellie spend the rest of the episode sneaking through town and trying to find a safe place to lie low.

Ellie reveals that Joel has hearing loss in his right ear, which leads to them being ambushed in the night when Joel rolls over onto his side and isn't able to hear them coming.

The episode cuts with Joel at gunpoint.

#TLOU #the last of recaps #the last of us #pedro pascal #bella ramsey

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annellspethraven · 2 years

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5/30/2020 Elenion Ancalima!

reposted from DeviantArt - crosspost

This entry explores how the road to hell is paved with trying new things. Oh, that's not the saying? Well it is now...or at least, it was. It is also the story of how one act of kindness can undo a whole lot of Shitty. But enough mystery, here is my tale.

Like many I am plagued by my own variation of social anxiety. I'm aware that I have talents and possess a measure of confidence, but the idea of navigating unfamiliar procedures or directions has always been a source of debilitating stress. Prior to smartphone navigation I often would eschew going anywhere at all unless I had a companion to mitigate the churning unease of finding my way. It makes no sense; some illogical meltdown happens if I make a mistake in following directions or become lost all out of proportion to reality that ends up in sobbing tears. There's no explaining mental illness. And when I mean illogical, I really mean illogical. I can box a compass easily. I was a capable aviation navigator that at one time could pick up any series of charts and create cross country flight plans; I co-owned a Cessna 182A with my first husband and while I never sought a license could competently fly the aircraft -- so I am talking about huge, sweeping emotional disconnects that are all the more devastating because I can give myself so many reasons why they should not exist...and yet.

This carried over into writing. Of course I can write stories, and lots of friends around me participate in these wonderful sounding Tolkien challenges that produced stories I loved to read. Slashy Santa. My Slashy Valentine. Fluffy Yuletide (okay making that one up). Back to Middle Earth Month. On and on and so many cute prompts. Such as, create a story around being hit by a fish; fun stuff and dammit this was the sort of thing on which I was missing out! But I digress. So finally a dear friend (hello Zhie) who possesses perfect talent as An Instigator (we all need to know a few of those as long as they aren't the sort that belong to organized crime. Or disorganized crime either) nudged me into trying TRSB (Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang -- check it out if interested though it doesn't actually matter; the relevant part to this essay is that it was one of those Seemingly Scary Writing Things with Directions and Rules and offered to ensure that I would not somehow screw up my participation in this event and end up in inpatient. I could do this.

The premise was quite simple. One could create an artwork based on something from Tolkien, one could sign up to be a writer committing to write a 5K word story about one of the artworks, or a few other variations. The writer would choose the artwork, it wouldn't be a random matching. There would be many choices and time to consider and even some other less binding participation options of none of that seemed suitable. Yes, I could do this.

When the time came to see the art, oh dear, there was really only one I wanted. I am very interested in tall ships and there it was, a beautiful work of Vingilot moving like a shooting star from the oceans of Arda into the starry heavens. That was the one I wanted, and that was the one I was able to have. Too exciting! At first all went well and I thought I had met a like minded friend. Then it turned out we had a difference of opinion on a social justice issue and apparently could not agree to disagree? I'm to this day not actually sure but suddenly everything became difficult between us concerning our collaboration. My story was...I felt not overly well received despite that I was told I had total artistic license to write what I wished to and the objections I was given were ones that I felt were insurmountable given the parameters of the setting. As I worked to meet the requirements set forth by the moderators, I was met with resistance and refusals. I...was not having fun and the amount of time I spent trying to navigate around the roadblocks was truly excessive.

Then, many months later, I went to check the story on AO3 and found out that the link to her art had been removed entirely. Basically, the artist's work on which the story was based was now dead; this person had taken their ball and gone home and the link to hennethgalad's tumblr account had a fine case of link rot. Yes, I'm naming the individual because I am not the first person who has been treated badly nor was I the last. I made every attempt to resolve the situation like an adult and it is my belief that when one agrees to participate in a group event of this nature it is like a team sport -- a commitment toward the other participants to create something for the enjoyment of all and let it stand for posterity, not use it for the airing of personal grievances. But my emails went unanswered so...I felt justified to close the book on that chapter.

When I made the discovery, I wrote an explanatory disclaimer for the story and it had been my intention to at some point create my own graphic...in all my spare time. In the last year I have spent hours trying to learn GIMP software and am trying very hard to gain skill as a digital illustrator so I can certainly equal the art that used to be there -- which is still online though I'm not sure how. Formerly, a Google image search: 'hennethgalad launch of vingilot' would bring up a copy of her art; a small bright white ship over a mostly navy blue field with an planetary ocean beneath and "Eärendil" scribed in Tengwar. Since posting this essay, it has since disappeared and who knows if even a fragment yet remains. That is what is now gone, buh-bye. In its place is the wonderful surprise I was given by Zhie, who seemed to be scheming and having fun with her 3D printer this last week and asking random questions about tall ships. She showed me that she was making a multi-media (as in, different materials) Vingilot to replace what had gone missing but I really did not think on it too much because we have all been in the midst of signups for TRSB 2020 and I was just hoping quite a lot I would not get paired up with That Special Someone a second time because...dear Valar, please no.

So imagine my surprise when I was shown this fabulous galactic-nebula stretching across a dark canvas, stars abounding, and Vingilot sailing through it all. This lovely, which is on Zhie's DA page:

My writing partner and I have a favorite saying, however inelegant...any idea of composing my own Vingilot art boarded the Nope Train to Fuckthatville. So 'out with the old in with the new.' This may not be the art that inspired the story now on AO3...but...ask me how much I care? This is the art that turned what was a disappointing, sour experience on account of a troubled individual lacking social skills into one which will cause me to hear the name of that fic and think on the kind gift of a friend who didn't have to stay up late (who knows how many nights in a row) working on this. Seriously. Anyone can give someone an Amazon card, and yes, that's very nice. But THIS is a gift and things like this feel very eleinion ancalima.

#ao3 writer #writing challenge #difficult people #vingilot

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kirfkirferyan · 2 years

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My Journey (so far) with Drafting

Drafting is always something I saw as useless, while in school. Mainly because we did all our shit on paper and once I'd written 800 words on paper, a second draft seemed more like tedious, unnecessary work than a helpful step in the creative process. Even as a burgeoning baby writer man, it seemed like WAY too much work for any kind of work. So, I always skipped the Second Draft and moved directly to the Final Draft.

Even as 2020 hit and everything became digital, my skipping the second draft remained a habit. In fact, it started to worsen. With depression and apathy and all the other emotions quarantine wrought making my work output diminish substantially, it meant that even the very few words I wrote for fiction were kept at a minimum effort-wise. So, they became a first draft product every single time, with very light editing.

This changed, although not through any effort on my part, in 2021, when I started consistently writing You Said Never. I wrote every chapter on my phone and, because I refused to use Word on mobile and still didn't use Docs outside of school, I wrote everything on a Notes app, emailed it to my laptop and, since the app's formatting was kinda fucked once copied over, rewrote the whole thing because it felt easier than correcting the formatting. Which was a first to final draft process, even if I didn't realize at the time. It actually worked pretty well, and helped improve the quality of the chapters at the time.

But then, as time went on and I kept on forcing myself to write on a weekly schedule... thing started to go wrong. My output slowed down, then my phone broke down, and I HAD to get faster. So, I returned to the same lightly edited draft format I used the year prior, now using my laptop for everything. And for a while, it worked for me. I knew exactly what I wanted to do most of the time and the product was more than satisfactory. I made Makoto most DEFINITELY is not looking for a third, it's all Toko's delusions, he swears! (long name, I know), which is still my favorite chapter from Chapter 1 of You Said Never, with that system. It worked, and for a good while, too!

Until we hit some big road blocks. Plot holes. Choppy dialogue. Inconsistent pacing. The works. So things started to slow down once more, and I just kept pushing myself... so the product became less and less what I wanted it to be. But I didn't stop, and kept going and going and going for a month until... I just couldn't write a single sentence without freezing and turning to do something else. I had officially hit a writer's block.

It's been a year and a half since then, and a lot of things have happened that have prevented me from committing to writing on a consistent basis. But I firmly believe the biggest roadblock has been myself. This mental block has been my biggest enemy during this period, and while I've produced some long (and good (innuendo not meant)) stuff since, it has not gone away. I'd make two or three things of value, but kept running into the same problems I had before, freeze up once again, and leave writing for a good while. I was stuck.

While it's not completely accurate to describe my block entirely as a result of this process (school and poor mental health definitely played a part), it is definitely fair to say it fed an unhealthy, perfectionist mentality that pre-dated these events. The first draft was always what came out, so the first draft became indicative of the worth of my craft. What I wrote down first was what I was. And it was usually... not that good. So I'd freeze, and nothing would happen, and I'd stay sad and my talent would remain unexplored and undeveloped.

It was just a couple of months ago that I decided that had to change, and started taking actual steps to do so. And while there are many ways I'm trying to change my outlook and process, the biggest is related to this pesky little drafting process, and my finally expanding it.

Other than the obvious "make more than one draft you dumb fuck" change, the current plan I have consists of three main ideas:

Do chapters in blocks. A recurring problem I find myself having with You Said Never was the many times I'd write a chapter, publish it, and then get a great idea while writing the next, which would've benefitted from some build-up in the previous one. So, I'm gonna start grouping chapters up, writing them all out in 3 to 6 chapter blocks, and then make changes according to the ideas that've sprouted during or after their creation. It could provide a hell of a lot more cohesiveness to fics that the previous process simply didn't allow for. It also means I can do weekly releases for a bit once I'm done! Hooray! Team Four Star was a big inspiration for this with how they organized their Abridged Parodies right at the end of that era. I always thought it was quite smart considering the time it took them to do shit, so I'm yoinking that idea and using it for my own nefarious purposes.

Beta Read -> Draft -> Edit. Pretty self-explanatory. Get a beta reader's feedback on the chapter block, do the block's second draft, then edit the chapter block one final time, after a day or two of rest (and maybe some more feedback from someone). I already started getting my stuff beta-d before this change, and since a second draft doesn't mean you ditch feedback, I reorganized. This is the best system for how to organize and balance the two I can currently picture.

Just fucking write. Just power through the uncertainty, the self-doubt, the anxiety and how SHITTY the first draft is, because you have the second draft to correct it! The more you write, the better you'll be, and the better you are, the better you'll be able to express your ideas and tell your stories! That's always been the goal, so get on with it! Shake the worry off and write out the entire story! You can fix it later, once you know what the (rough) outline looks like.

This is, bear in mind, not a perfect system. I don't even know WHY it is flawed because I haven't produced a single block with this system just yet. But it's progress, and God knows after the last year and a half of stagnation, some progress is needed.

I started weekly chapter for You Said Never because I wanted to force myself to start writing, and despite what you might believe from what you've read beforehand, that system worked! It made me realize just how fun writing could be, and got me to actually do it, after years of self-consciousness making me push it off! But then I outgrew that system, and it's been long overdue for me to find a new way to write my stories. To once more power through my issues and write my heart out. Because I fucking love writing, and I'll be damned if anything manages to keep me from doing it. Including my unsupportive asshole of a brain.

Drafting's been one of the strangest companions I've had throughout this, so far, short literary journey. I have no doubts our relationship will continue to grow and change as I myself grow and change. But for now, I feel like things are looking up for us. Let's see how things go on from here.

#Kirf Kirferyan Rambles #drafts #drafting #first draft #second draft #final draft #writers block #writers blog #writing #writer things #fanfic #blog

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pinkpretty-princess · 2 years

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Roleplay Romance Plot Ideas:

Plot 1:

Person A is dating someone but after a terrible fight with their significant other, Person A decided to go out for a drink. Person B was already at the bar. Person A met Person B and they hit it off, getting drinks, dancing and laughing the whole night. After a night of drinking all out (Person A & Person B) wake up together in bed. Not at someone's home, at a hotel. They have no memory of the night before other than the fact that they met that night. Person A freaks out about sleeping with a stranger and cheating. Person B is already used to this kind of one night stands. But this one was definitely different. Not only did they hit it off that night while drunk, but they also had rings on, and a wedding certificate.

Alternative Ending: There’s no wedding certificate, but a positive pregnancy test a month later. Or both (this is my fav)

Plot 2:

Arranged Marriage. Could be modernized or be medieval. Kingdoms trying to make a truce or prevent war, gangs trying to clear any tension between another, a contract between a rich man and a poor woman. A forced marriage between a rich man and a poor woman. This is so the man can look more professional to the public with a wife. They both hold a marriage contract. With this contract he pays her to act like his wife in public mainly, acting like they are in love so he can hold a good impression in public. In private this changes and they have a complete tense relationship along with arguments. We love a possessive husband and free spirited wife.

Plot 3:

Person A is on a day-long drive to an out of town business meeting. They are the eternal optimist, always trying to find the best in everything and everyone, even strangers. When they spot a hitch hiker at the side of the road, Person A is compelled to stop and give them a helping hand, offering to take them along on their route to the hotel where their meeting is taking place. Person B is on the run, having escaped from the state prison during a transport three days prior. They have shed their orange jumpsuit for civilian clothes, and changed their appearance the best they could, thanks to an abandoned farm house near the penitentiary. Person B is desperate to get as far away from that hellish place as possible. They've evaded the state police for this long, there is no way they will ever go back to that dark, stifling, awful cell. Person A is exactly what Person B has been hoping for - a one way ticket out of town. They share a few stories and generally enjoy each other's company during the long, uneventful drive. Unassuming Person A has no idea that there is a dangerous felon on the loose, but when they finally approach the state line to find a waiting police roadblock, Person B suddenly pulls a weapon on Person A and demands they get through without incident. Once they've successfully passed the road block, Person B reveals the truth, and Person A is hit with the sudden frightening realization that they are now subject to Person B's plans.

Plot 4:

In this world, you are destined to find your soulmate. Everyone has one, and everyone talks about how great it is. At age 5, you get a tattoo of the first sentence your soulmate will say to you.

Person A is a college student and hard worker. They have worked their asses off to get where they are, hours of studying, scholarships, the whole 9 yards. So imagine their frustration when Person B— their rival since high school— is in the same college as them. Person B is a spoiled rich kid who got into this school with their parents' money and focuses more on partying than class. Needless to say, Person A and Person B aren’t friends or even close to acquaintances. They haven’t spoken but there is definitely a mutual rivalry, glares, pranks, gossiping/rumor spreading. But still not a single word to each other. Until one day when they are paired up for a month-long fake baby project to bring up their grades. Then and only then do they realize what they are. Soulmates. How can two opposite people who hate each other be soulmates?

Plot 5:

Top Gun is the school for the best of the best pilots. After years of dedication, blood, sweat, tears, and everything in between, Person A has finally made it. But to their horror, so is Person B. They have been long rivals since boot camp. Years of competition, glares, harsh words, and banter turned them into proper enemies. They have always hated each other just ask anyone. So imagine to their surprise that not only are they again in the same class but now partners in the same plane. In a place where now they must get along, protect each other, trust one another, and keep the other alive in the air, they are also having to experience resurfaced secret feelings they’ve always had for each other. But no matter how many accidental bumps, flirty jokes, drunk kisses, or angry sex happen between them, the academy is very strict on its rules… such as “Relationships Are Prohibited.”

Plot 6:

Person A and Person C have been best friends for years. They know each other better than anyone, doing almost everything together, always hanging out, and even going to the same college after high school. Now in their Junior year of college, nothing has changed. They are still just as close. But now Person C’s little sister is here for her first year. Person B has grown in the last 3 years, becoming someone Person A can’t keep their eyes off of. But after openly flirting with each other at a party Person C makes it very clear that they are very against the idea of them being anything other than friends. They forbid it… Person A understands and plans to cut it off, even telling Person B. Which doesn't go to plan. Person B is now at Person A’s door, asking to come in. Now after a steamy night together, Person A is unsure if they’ll ever be able to drop Person B. Now they are torn between their dream Person and a lifelong friend.

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cyndecreativity · 2 years

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Promptober Day 1 - Batting Practice

"I chose you." - Bat - Wearing Each Other’s Clothes A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY (Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | “This wasn’t supposed to happen”)

The game of baseball is sacred to most of it’s players. ~1300 words

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Familiar sounds of cars driving by pulled at his consciousness. The crack of a ball against a bat echoed in his ringing ears. Familiar sounds, nothing out of the ordinary. He’d fallen asleep plenty of times in the dugout, under a bench, in the stands, waiting for practice to end. It had been a few years since he’d done it, though.

CRACK!

He felt a breeze, the crack of the hit louder than normal. As he opened his eyes, he caught another player, familiar in his Tombstone Flyers uniform, readying a bat to swing. The color of his hair didn’t match any of the players on the team, but maybe he was new.

Attempting to sit up alerted him to the bonds wrapped around his wrists, his middle, his legs. A sock, dirty judging by the taste, filled his mouth, held fast by a black uniform belt. Not his team.

Thoomp… CRACK!

Muffled noises and the sound of struggle pulled the batter from his routine. “Hey, you’re finally awake!”

The bat fell to the ground with a plonk while the player rushed over to grab the large remote box for the pitching machine. The hum of electricity quieted as the machine turned off. “There we go. Sorry about that, Spooky. Got bored while you were nappin’.”

Spooky struggled against his bonds, plotting a number of ways to punish this newbie. But something about him seemed familiar, not like the field or the dugout or the stands. He’d seen this man before, but in a different uniform, a darker jersey maybe. Sherriff would probably never let anyone on the team with colorization that dark.

But he knew his name, or at least, his nickname.

“Bet you’re tryin’ to figure out where it is you know me from.” The man grinned toothily, his teeth sharp and stained not yellow, but some other color. “Go ahead and look down, that’ll give you a hint.”

He kept his eyes on the man, his captor. Something about the encouragement felt like a trap.

“Ah, c’mon, indulge me, kid.”

He glanced down. An old, loose jersey, hung dark against his pale skin. The Umbra Hulks? He looked up.

“How’s it fit? Yours is a little tight around the middle. Reminds me I should get back to workin’ out. I always say I’m gonna, you know, every New Year. But, you know, resolutions, right?” He smoothed the front of Spooky’s shirt. “Also helps if someone happens to walk by. Home Field Advantage, right? Not unreasonable to see a flyer out here after dark practicing their swing, right?”

The longer he spoke, the more he remembered. He’d heard this man before. Calling for time outs or shouting instructions or arguing with the umpire. He’d played Left Fielder back in the day. Lefty.

“But you’re probably wonderin’ what brings you out here tonight. Me, I’m just enjoying your teams’ new machine. It’s pretty cool. Wish we had that kind of budget. But we don’t.” Lefty fussed with a ring his right hand. “Which is weird, considerin’ your team never sells out tickets. Now, us Hulks, we sell out all the time, right. People love to watch a game with the Umbra Hulks. Won the Championship for years now, right?” The ring, a large gaudy thing that Spooky recognized now as a Championship ring, moved into Lefty’s pocket. “So how is it that we don’t have the budget for fancy new equipment?”

Panic started to fill him. The only time his own father took off his rings meant sobbing in the bathroom over bloody rags.

“So, despite my boss’s protests, I started to look into it.” He chuckled and looked to Spooky with his pitch-black sclera and red irises. “I may not look it, but I’m smarter than people give me credit for. But not as intimidatin’. Because no matter where I followed the money, I came up against some pretty firm roadblocks.”

Lefty paced around as he spoke, thick-knuckled hands gesturing absently. “I followed the dough through official channels, talked to tellers and bankers and accountants. Even followed it through back-channels, right? Tracked down some old contacts, bookies, runners, gamblers.” A nostalgic smirk took up a portion of his features. “Even ran into some old friends that left the Business. They all loved havin’ a chat over a lunch or a beer down the pub. But, wouldn’t you know it, they all clammed up at some point. Now, me, smarter than the average Hulk me, started to notice a pattern.”

Spooky attempted to swallow around the dirty sock and winced at the taste. The rope burned and scratched, tighter every time he attempted to break free. He felt blood trickle down his wrist, into his palm, down his fingers. Despite his best efforts, the angle of his legs made it difficult to even sit on the chair, one of the foldable ones from a conference room or something in the facilities, his ankles tied to the closest point, toes on the ground.

“So I looked into that pattern and I got myself a hunch. I started askin’ different questions, looked into different things here and there. Turns out, our budget problem has a pretty simple solution. But one that I can’t just call out. Because, see, the culprit has a lot of people under duress. If I go after ‘im, he takes down a lot of other people. Nothin’ would stick to him. And then I’d be the one in trouble. Which is where you come in, kid.”

Spooky furrowed his brow. Lefty meandered in front of him and crouched down. “You just follow your coach’s orders, I get it. You hit the ball, you run, you score runs. When you’re on the mound, you throw the ball, maybe you hurt the opposing team’s player. Maybe that player gets benched for a while. Maybe the Flyers start winnin’ more games. Happens all the time.” Red flashed in Lefty’s eyes. “But kid, your coach don’t know what’s good for the game anymore. He’s hurtin’ more players than we got. He’s scarin’ people away from the game. Which is what brings me to you.”

Lefty stood again and walked over to the large remote for the pitching machine. “Men like your coach think they’re untouchable. Think they’ve buried enough of themselves that no one can get at him, right?” He poked several of the buttons on the remote. “But they can’t think of everything.” He pressed start and the machine whirred into life. “Which is where you come in, kiddo.”

Thoomp…

The chair nearly toppled over as Spooky’s reflexes took over to dodge the incoming ball. His eyes darted from the Hulk into the distance where the pitching machine sat. He had been placed directly in the path of the machine. Seated at just the right height.

Lefty scooped up the baseball bat. “Your coach has to be stopped. But, seein’ as he thinks he’s untouchable, there’s no way to get at him directly.” He moved into position to bat as a right-hander. “Which means I gotta find a way to send him a message.”

Thoomp…

Spooky almost fell over again.

“A message he can’t dismiss. Which is why I chose you. Someone he’ll care about more than his other players.” Lefty held the bat with his right hand over his left.

Spooky looked down the field at the pitching machine, the loader bucket full of balls.

“I mean, I could try to talk to him. But he’s hurt so many people already.”

Thoomp…

Spooky grunted this time. They were coming faster than before.

“I gotta hurt him where he can’t ignore it, right?” Lefty settled back into his batting stance, foreign to him as a left-hander. “And I know how much it’ll hurt him to find your body in the dugout tomorrow morning.”

#promptober #fictober #whumptober #i did it again #i still have to do day 2 #promptober 2022 #i did it last night under duress #so i thought about all the ways to improve it #and settled on this #same general premise #hope you like it better

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