#conversational excerpts from my life

[hanzajesthanza]

Bez krwi nie ma wampira. Jest to substancja, która decyduje o jego istnieniu, podobnie jak o istnieniu człowieka. Without blood there is no vampire. It is this substance which determines his existence, just as it does the existence of a human.

Maria Janion. "6. Krew i ciało," in Wampir: Biografia symboliczna. ("6. Blood and body," in Vampire: A Symbolic Biography.)

[seventh-district]

i feel so bad for the people who follow me for the approximately 2 and a half fandom-related posts i make per year only to then probably realize that i spend the rest of my time vent-posting and oversharing in the tags

[thatnightstar]

sometimes I feel out of place and sometimes I don't want to fit in

-bini

[irb-pascalito-99]

Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

[ckret2]

✨⚠️ Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone ⚠️✨

If you're new here, this is one of those "human Bill in the Mystery Shack" redemption fics, you know the drill: Bill illegally escapes death via reincarnation; the Shack crew imprisons him til they can figure out how to kill him; but they won't, because Bill's gonna make friends with them and literally everybody else in town. Whether they like it or not.

Featuring!! The slowest redemption arc you've ever read; "human" Bill that doesn't decide being trapped in an alien body is fine; show-style episodic plot structure; individual plot arcs for characters you've never even cared about; so canon compatible we even include the dang coloring book; and so TBOB-compatible over a year before TBOB came out that I'm considering taking up a position as the Oracle of Delphi just so Apollo stops barraging me with dodgeballs.

New chapter every Friday, 5pm CST! Yes, that includes this Friday!

For art, doodles, upcoming scene excerpts, and posts about characterization & plot plans, see my #bill goldilocks cipher tag. For the fic itself, the first few chapters are on AO3, but tumblr's 60 chapters ahead:

⛓️ 1 Part 1. Bill returns, in a bedsheet toga.

⛓️ 1 Part 2. Bill tries to murder the Stans & Soos (with time travel).

⛓️ 2. Dipper and Mabel save the day (with time travel).

⛓️ 3. A tense evening as the Pines prepare to get rid of Bill.

⛓️ 4. Plot twist: the Pines physically can't get rid of Bill.

⛓️ 5. The gang goes to a diner at 3 a.m. for hostage negotiations.

⛓️ 6. Bill escapes from Theraprism. [NEW!!!]

⛓️ 7. "How'd Bill get here" flashback; plus, entering his new prison.

💇‍♀️ 8. Bill gives himself a haircut and depression.

💇‍♀️ 9. Bill & Ford grudgingly have a sincere conversation; regret it.

💇‍♀️ 10. The kids decide Bill won't ruin their summer. Also: Pacifica!

📓🔺📓 TBOB BOUNDARY: Everything above this line has been edited for 100% compatibility with The Book Of Bill and posted to AO3! Everything after this line has not been edited... so it's only 98% TBOB compatible. 📓🔺📓

🧚 11. Mabel gives Bill the most beautiful makeover ever. (It's not.)

🧚 12. Pacifica advertises Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula. Bill wants it.

🧚 13. Pacifica refuses to share; the twins discover its side effects.

🧚 14. Mabel wins Bill's eternal friendship with arts & crafts.

💭 15. Bill, Ford, and Dipper have nightmares that are Bill's fault.

💎 16. Ford has a fun day with Mabel but everything goes wrong.

💎 17. The day goes right again thanks to healthy communication.

🎥 18. Mabel's Guide To Local Animals, co-starring Bill Cipher.

🧊 19. Wendy snoops into the weird things happening in the shack.

🧊 20. Wendy meets the weird thing (it's Bill).

🎂 21. Stan & Ford's birthday party! Bill gives evil gifts.

💭 22. Bill "helps" Dipper's nightmares; no one knows his motive.

👁️ 23. Bill's ex is back in town and nobody's happy about it.

👁️ 24. Everyone's even less happy to learn Bill has a sex life.

🧿 25. Mabel and Bill make friendship bracelets! :)

🧿 26. The Pines take Bill to the mall. He wears terrible things.

🧿 27. Bill breaks Mabel's heart (and panics to fix it).

🏳️‍🌈 28. Bill talks his way into going with Wendy to Rainbow Club.

🎃 29. Bill contacts the Henchmaniacs on Summerween morning.

🎃 30. Costume making. Mabel pries into Bill's past, with crayons.

🎃 31. The Trickster's pals trick-or-treat; and Bill terrifies Dipper.

🪮 32. Dipper & Mabel make a poppet to control Bill.

🦷 33. Stan takes Bill to the dentist. In handcuffs.

🦷 34. Dentist & tooth fairy attack. Stan & Bill are still handcuffed.

🦷 35. Bill & Stan reach a painful understanding and stop the fairy.

🛁 36. Anime night; and Mabel makes Bill do community service.

🛁 37. Bill plots escape and runs into Wendy. Dipper panics.

🛁 38. Bill has the worst and stupidest day of his afterlife.

🌅 39. A cultist finds Bill; Bill tries to re-recruit Ford.

🚙 40. Gideon broadcasts car commercials; invokes Bill's wrath.

🚙 41. Bill apologizes for bullying Gideon. lol no he blackmails him.

🌕 42. Bill tells Dipper secrets of the universe; predicts an eclipse.

🌖 43. Gravity is disappearing; Ford and Fiddleford investigate.

🌗 44. Ford & Dipper drag Bill hiking; Bill faces his death.

🌘 45. Ford demands answers Bill can't give as totality looms.

🌑 46. Totality. Bill decides whether Ford lives or dies.

🌒 47. Bill feels rotten but finally explains the eclipse.

🌓 48. Bill has a complete mental breakdown.

🌔 49. The gang limps home. (Plus: a second dimensional eclipse.)

💿 50. Bill finally processes that mental breakdown.

💿 51. Dipper and Mabel try to remember the Axolotl's poem.

📖 52. The gang reads Flatworld. Bill isn't thrilled.

📖 53. Mabel tries to get Bill to talk about his home world.

⚛️ 54. Dipper, Ford, and Fiddleford do paradox physics.

📖 55. Mabel learns college-level geometry.

📖 56. Mabel & Bill have fun; Dipper & Ford prepare for murder.

💀 57. The execution of Bill Cipher.

💀 58. Everything you wondered about how Bill escaped.

💀 59. Everything you didn't wonder about how Bill escaped.

💀 60. Everything you never imagined about how Bill escaped.

✨✨ 🪐 61. The Axolotl finds the second dimension's corpse. ✨

📙 62. Soos vacuums the attic (wow exciting)

📙 63. Soos decides how he feels about Bill's treatment.

📙 64. Fixin it with Soos: home redecorating!

🎥 65. The gang makes plans for the night.

🎥 66. Dipper's Guide to the Fremont Nightwigglers

🎥 67. Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers

🎥 68. The aftermath of everybody pulling all-nighters.

🏖️ 69. Beach episode! The Pines fish! Bill tans!

COMING SOON:

🏖️ 70. Bigfoot, Agent Powers, and the cool teen gang.

Hey!! Go read chapter 61 now! I posted it out of order so you probably haven't read it!!!

🪐 61-2: The 2D massacre is so much worse than the Ax thought.

🪐 61-3: A building inspection in the Nightmare Realm.

🪐 61-4: Even when Bill fixes things he breaks them.

🪐 61-5: A shape meets Bill as the world burns.

COMING SOON:

🪐61-6: The gods & Bill negotiate him leaving Dimension Zero.

EVENTUALLY WHEN WE GET BACK TO NORMAL NUMBERING THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE:

🕴️ 71? The government investigates the Mystery Shack... again.

I skipped chapter 61 because it was about the destruction of Bill's dimension and it was scheduled to post the week TBOB came out. By the time I finished rewriting it to be TBOB-compatible, it was like, 5 or 6 chapters. I'm gonna finish posting them first to see how many chapters they actually are and then I'll update the numbering of the subsequent chapters.

This post was last updated November 8, 2024! If you're seeing this post as a reblog and it's been a while since then, check back on the original post to see if more's been added!

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Okay,” he says cheerfully. “Tried YouTube yet? They’ve got tutorials for everything on there. I found a guy who taught me how to change my oil and tie a Windsor knot.” 

“Did you not know how to tie a Windsor knot?” Tim asks, both clearly puzzled and clearly a trust fund kid. 

“Naw, Bruce or Alfie always just materialized it for me whenever it came up,” Dick replies with an easy shrug. “Also had to learn how to shave from Ollie, which was definitely an experience. But Dinah taught me how to smuggle a full bottle of Jack into a bar in fishnets at the same time, which is actually really useful knowledge so remind me to pass that one on later. Donna and I literally saved most of San Francisco and our favorite coffee shop that way once. Oh, and Harvey was the one who explained taxes existed. Did not know those were a thing ‘til I was like, twenty.” 

Twenty-ish, anyway. Well, he’s twenty-three now, probably, so . . . eh, twenty-two at the latest. 

“. . . your life experiences are not universal,” Tim says after a long pause, like getting wooed with handmade nests and giant diamonds by a half-alien superclone and knowing how to tie a Windsor knot at age fifteen is somehow “universal”. No one in this conversation has been even slightly “universal” in their life experiences. 

“Are you telling Superboy about Robin yet?” Dick asks, and Tim–hesitates, a little. 

“I didn’t think it was mine to tell,” he replies carefully. “Most of the Justice League doesn’t even know about Robin.” 

“I told the Titans,” Dick replies with a shrug. “And Uncle Clark.” 

“Jason–” Tim starts, and Nightwing’s sleek feathers all instantly, involuntarily twitch. Tim cuts himself off, and Dick . . . doesn’t say anything, for a moment. 

Jason never told anyone about Robin. 

Though the Joker was pretty bored when he figured it out, apparently. A “real” person wasn’t as interesting as the mask. The mask being a mask wasn’t as interesting, maybe. 

( Dick doesn’t think about how much RAGE it puts in him, thinking about the Joker cutting Jason out of Robin’s wings and finding him BORING. thinking he was LESS than, thinking he wasn’t worth– 

it’s not the time for that. for any of that. 

it’s not. )

“You’re your own Robin,” Dick says. “It’s up to you who you tell what.” 

“I did tell Steph,” Tim says awkwardly, looking away. “Well . . . I mean . . .” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, baby bird,” Dick says. “Like I said: you’re your own Robin.” 

“But you were Robin first!” Tim practically bursts out, gesturing sharply with Robin’s wings. “And it just . . . it feels wrong, to tell people! Like it’s someone else’s secret. I only actually told Steph because I felt like I had to, if we were gonna–if we, you know–but Superboy doesn’t care whether I’m human or not, and she did, and . . . I never felt right about telling her anyway. Just because I thought I was supposed to, not because I . . . sorry. Just . . . I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

( “I’M sorry,” Dick doesn’t say back, because he can never say that to Tim while he’s wearing Robin. 

it never ends up as him saying it to TIM, when he tries to. )

[chinolondoner]

!! Serious Readers Wanted !!

Hello, I am an ambitious author committing to penning thoughtful and well-constructed crime fiction through stony flamboyance.

Under the current penname and alias "Chino Londoner" I am in the eye of a whirlwind of inspiration writing the beginnings of what is set to be a longform, episodic, detective series titled Lullaby for Bishop.

Set in a tropical, Latin American city completely fictionalized and pulled out of the mind of the author, the story entails the final days in an aging private detective's career, hoping to lighten the load in his final run of cases by hiring a young and enthusiastic, male partner to smoothen the more tedious and insidious hurdles.

Wanting to give the reader a well-rounded experience when taking on the themes of the story, there will be moments of general levity and comedic punchlines throughout, but ultimately, Lullaby for Bishop is fundamentally inspired by noir and hard-boiled literature and media. As so, the writing will follow in the genre's legacy of smoky fatalism and tinged by a gnawing and pessimistic torment.

The first twelve chapters in this epic saga can be found and experienced for free by visiting my Patreon.

Click here for early chapters!

short excerpt below...

reblogs are appreciated!

(Excerpt from Chapter Six)

“Surely your parents knew about your choice of career path before they passed away,” Nayaiko said.

“Not that it's really any of your business, but my parents and I never really had a close relationship. Not seeing eye-to-eye on certain things, there was never much of an attempt on either end of the wire to maintain consistent contact.”

“That's unfortunate,” said Nayaiko. “There are few things in the world that should be put above strong, family bonds. In Japanese culture, we often inscribe great emphasis in honoring our parents.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't grow up in Japanese culture.” The topic of conversation looked to be a sensitive avenue of discussion for our detective. “I grew up in America. I grew up in California. I grew up in a world full of moral winds and spoon-fed narcissists. I grew up around real-life junkies, part-time junkies, junkies who only meant to wet their lips on the stuff once for a role and manage to never see their grandmother's pained grin ever again. You're going to think I'm crazy for saying this, but my mother actually went through five different accents throughout the lump of my childhood. It was as if this woman was test driving an entirely new persona every other winter flu until she was finally able to discover one that could squeeze her enough money.”

Howl had then looked over at the girls and would take notice of the strange expressions on their faces, such honed and weathered sentiments perhaps a frivolous grade level or two above Nomi and Nayaiko's curated sensibilities.

---

Copyright © 2024 by Chino Londoner

[meanbossart]

I finally thought of a question! What does your Astarion think of all that's happened to him, now that it's all Over, and what does Drow think about what he knows about Astarion? Does he ever contemplate and compare, does he have passing thoughts like "Oh yeah, he told me this" brought on by nothing in particular? If Drow or Shadowheart were to bring it up either when drinking, or after a heated moment, what would happen?

Thank you so much for your art and your words! Your handle on Drow made me really crack open my Tav like a nut

AND WHAT A GOOD QUESTION IT IS.

(I use some dialogue excerpts from for A Novel Experience here to illustrate my points that some might consider to be spoilery, I don't think it's stuff that would affect one's reading enjoyment too much. Still, just figured I would mention it for anyone who minds it.)

In regards to Astarion, it is understandably complicated. I think the way he's found to get by so far is by not dwelling at all in what has happened. He's tried to turn the symbolic new leaf that night in the cemetery and likes to think of himself as not only freed, but a new man open to what life has to offer him and unburdened by his past - when memories rush back, he pushes them away. When something bothers him for reasons that relate to his past experience, he tries to push past the discomfort because he doesn't want to be defined by it. He is fairly self-conscious of being seen as a weakling or a victim, especially when he's constantly confronted by DU drow's utter indifference to his own past.

He has, by all intends and purposes, done well. He understands that he's a grown man who's been given a second chance at un-life by an exceptionally lucky turn of events, he absolutely does not want to waste a second more of his own time by being sullen, broken, or guilt-striken. He thrives for as long as his past doesn't directly confront him - but when it does, the avoidance catches up and he very easily loses his cool.

His feelings regarding the decisions he made underneath Cazador's palace are mostly rigid. He's happy to not have Ascended and content that the spawn were set free, but he does not like to dwell on what their lives may be like moving forward and, if ever discussing it, does so with callousness and indifference, shutting down the conversation before it can begin. While he doesn't bask in the feeling, he does take the smallest bit of pride in the fact that he has sacrificed eternal power for the freedom of thousands - when doubt arises and he's haunted with the could-have-beens, he soothes himself with the fact that his sacrifice had a purpose.

DU drow has no moral quandries with what Astarion did while under Cazador's control or regard for the people he victimized at all, but he dwells constantly on the suffering he's endured. He flip-flops between thinking of Astarion as a perfectly capable individual and someone who is overly sensitive and finicky the moment something upsets him - someone who needs protection. He has a grand hero's complex about him and at times difficulty trusting Astarion's capacity to make his own choices - since he didn't have the opportunity for such a long time. He isn't controlling, but Astarion knows him well enough to read the doubt in his face even when he's quiet about it.

Interestingly enough, this seems to mostly apply to when Astarion's ideas go against his own, or make him feel powerless or unneeded in some way or another. He's perfectly happy to go along with his impulses otherwise - even when they seem to be made in bad judgement.

It also applies to intimacy for a while, with DU drow proceeding to avoid sex even after he's rid of his urge - not only because he's still afraid of his own desires, but also because he doesn't trust Astarion to express his agency during the act.

But that's an issue that they solve fairly quickly (well, ten-chapters-in quickly. sixteen if you only count when they first have sex since the events of the game) , especially as Astarion asserts himself as the more dominant half of the relationship.

I don't think either DU drow or Shadowheart have the nerve to use Astarion's actions while enthralled against him. DU drow because he doesn't care or thinks he's held accountable in any way, and Shadowheart because she knows better. That said, things do come up between him and other characters and then - well. He doesn't deal well with it at all:

[greenlikethesea]

@sparklyslug and I commissioned the incredible @mardyart to draw a pivotal scene from our fic, Three Weddings and a Funeral, a part in our currently sprawling universe Let us Dwell in Fair Ithilien and There Make a Garden. For those who have read, you might recognize this as a scene from the third chapter, post [redacted] funeral, where Steve and Eddie have a conversation in the Byers-Hopper kitchen about what is deserved.

Thank you so much for this beautiful art, Mardy. We’re so unbelievably thrilled with the finished product, and we couldn’t be happier. You’re the best!

Referenced fic excerpt under the cut, for context!

 “Oh Joyce, love of my life,” Eddie says to himself, removing several pints of Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and lining them up on the kitchen counter. Without even asking Steve for his preference, he wordlessly hands Steve the almost full pint of Cherry Garcia. He just knows which one is his favorite, apparently, which shouldn’t surprise Steve as much as it does. “Do you think it’s too soon to propose to her?”

 “I see your stance on asking people out at funerals has changed,” Steve remarks, ignoring the swoop in his stomach at Eddie’s (playful, completely not serious, Joyce is their mom) suggestion.

 “First of all, post-funeral is fair game,” Eddie says as he gets out two bowls and two spoons; he, like Steve, knows this kitchen like the back of his hand. Even knows where to find a jar of apparently unopened maraschino cherries, theatrically blowing the dust off the lid into Steve’s face, who in return theatrically coughs and gags. After a slight pause, he takes the pint of Cherry Garcia out of Steve’s hand and sets to making a little sundae for him. Steve can only dumbly watch as Eddie gives him two scoops and presses down on them so they’re a little softer, just how Steve likes it, adding a brusquely effective swirl of whipped cream, cherries on top, before handing it back to him. In Steve’s professional opinion, it’s a Scoops Ahoy-worthy performance. Makes him kind of wish the outfit was involved, mmm.

 “Secondly,” Eddie says, Steve doing a quick mental scramble away from the vision of Eddie in blue striped shorts and back towards whatever the hell they had been talking about, “I’m pretty sure a sexless marriage is out of the question for her, so it would be a swift no.” He’s less formal with his own ice cream prep, simply jamming a spoon into his own tub (Phish Food, which is just so typically him), whipped cream and cherries apparently forgotten.

 “She deserves better than that,” Steve says now, years later, chasing a stray cherry around the side of his bowl with his spoon. “And so do you.”

 Eddie gives Steve a look, a little bit of humor and a little bit of apprehension and a bit of evaluation. And something so unsurprised, too, a kind of fond      Jesus H Christ, of course smile manifesting just through the shadow of a dimple, not quite making itself entirely seen.

 “I know,” Eddie says simply. The quiet confidence of a man who does know what he deserves, does know that he can and should be desired. Treasured. And get what he wants. And who is, maybe, a little surprised that Steve knows that too.

 Steve pops the maraschino cherry between his teeth, flavor exploding at the back of his tongue, just this shy of too syrupy-sweet, as he looks at Eddie’s face. He can feel it coming in, then. The way he’s heard that the water pulls all the way back far as the eye can see, before a tsunami comes rushing back in. Has a sense of what’s heading his way, in the time that it takes for Eddie to shake his head ruefully and continue, taking his eyes off Steve’s face in an uncharacteristically indirect move. One of only a handful of times Steve can think of, when Eddie hasn’t looked frank and fearless into Steve’s eyes.

 “You do too,” Eddie says to his bowl with quiet ferocity, and follows it with a spoonful of ice cream so quickly that it’s like he’s trying to stuff the words back in. Cover up the evidence with Ben&Jerry’s finest.

I love him, Steve thinks, the hundred-foot high wave coming in. Less devastating of a natural disaster, but sure as shit knocking him off his feet and sending him spinning. Hey, Eddie. I love you.  

[goodomensafterdark]

Writers Guild Presents - Tethered - Ch 9 - Hallowe'en

Written by NegotiationReal6508 on our subreddit!

Chapter 9 of work in progress

TW/CW: Angst, discussion of attempted suicide, implied character death, internalized homophobia, discussion of conversion treatment

Summary:

Crowley wakes up in a mental hospital with no memory of how he got there. Without his demonic powers, neither the doctors, nor the people who claim to be his family will believe he is who he says he is. With the evidence against him mounting, his only lifeline to the real world is a cryptic note left by an unseen messenger. The longer he stays in this hospital, the harder it becomes to recall for sure, is Crowley really a demon of Hell? Or has his entire existence been nothing more than a delusion conjured by a grieving mind?

Excerpt:

It had been more than twenty years since Crowley had watched his best friend walk out of his life. Many times since then, he would see a head of short blond curls and hold out hope that he'd see that beautiful, angelic face beneath it. Bowties and libraries and bandstands conjured up bittersweet memories of a bygone life.

But frequent exposure to certain stimuli dampens the physiological response, and eventually Crowley stopped noticing things like that. The boy he knew so well was gone, and by all accounts, he would not be coming back.

Which is why it was such a shock to walk into the pub one Hallowe’en and see a halo of curls and ridiculous bowtie, that unmistakable nose and the warmest eyes he had ever known. He almost walked back out the doors, but for one thing.

Continue reading on AO3

Or start from chapter 1 - Dies Lunae

Special thanks to my beautiful betas: u/KotiasCamorra, u/Paperclip_Ninja, and u/blackjeans93

Also, go support @gleafer on Patreon! It will improve your life in ways you may never fully comprehend. I speak from experience!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Novel Dialogue

Speech in a novel is different from real life

Novel dialogue - is not like reality, where much of what we say is of little consequence to the bigger picture of our lives.

Check that all your dialogue needs to be there, then remove the mundane.

Artful dialogue - requires balancing realism with engagement.

Ensure that every word spoken by a character pushes the novel forward rather than making the reader feel like they’re eavesdropping on a mundane conversation at the bus stop.

Every line of dialogue should have a purpose. If it doesn’t, it shouldn’t be there.

A 3-Pronged Approach to Dialogue

One way of assessing whether dialogue is working is to think in terms of:

voice,

mood and

intention.

When we focus on these three things, we avoid dull dialogue – conversations about the weather, how someone takes their tea or coffee, and courtesy statements such as ‘Hi, how are you?’

VOICE

Tells us who characters are, what makes them tick – their fears, frustrations, hopes and dreams, identity, preferences.

Perhaps their speech is abrupt, rude, measured, polite, sweary or seductive.

When we change the way a character speaks, we change their voice. And that means we change them.

MOOD

Characters can show us how they’re feeling via their dialogue.

Emotionally evocative speech allows readers to access the internal experience of a non-viewpoint character. And that makes it a powerful tool.

Perhaps their speech is abrupt, assertive, hesitant, forceful, pleading. Using the right words means the speech tags and narrative won’t need to be cluttered with further explanation.

INTENTION

Another way of framing subtext.

How characters speak tells us what they want.

Perhaps they’re asking questions for the purpose of discovery & understanding whodunit (doctors, lawyers, private investigators, and police officers regularly use dialogue in novels to this end). Dialogue can express a multitude of motivations.

Ask yourself what your character wants every time they open their mouth.

To declutter dialogue and make every word count, ask yourself the following:

Is every line relevant to the story?

Is the character speaking with purpose or taking up ink/pixels on the page?

Can mundane chitchat be removed without damaging sense and flow?

Could the dull stuff be replaced with speech that deepens character?

Example

A real, but mundane dialogue:

Laurie comes back to the office with me for a meeting with Kevin. These meetings are basically of dubious value, since all we seem to do is list the things we don’t understand in our preparation for a trial we don’t know will even take place. “Hi, Kevin,” I say. “Hey, Andy. How you doin’?” “Not too bad, thanks. Christ, it’s cold out though. I need something to warm me up. Gonna grab a coffee. Want one? Laurie, you?” Kevin nods. Laurie says, “Please. Milk and sugar.” “So Kevin,” I say as I hand around the drinks, “we need to talk about Petrone.” It’s the first chance I’ve had to tell Kevin about my meeting with the guy. I fill him in. When I get to the part where Petrone denied trying to have me killed, Kevin asks, “And you believed him?” “I did.” “Just because that’s what he said?” I nod. “As stupid as it might sound, yes. I’ve had dealings with him before, and he’s always told me the truth, or nothing at all. And he had nothing to gain by lying.” “Andy, the guy has had a lot of people murdered. How many confessions has he made?”

Turning it into Novel Dialogue...

This is how author David Rosenfelt actually wrote this excerpt from Play Dead (Grand Central, 2009, p. 175):

Laurie comes back to the office with me for a meeting with Kevin. These meetings are basically of dubious value, since all we seem to do is list the things we don’t understand in our preparation for a trial we don’t know will even take place. It’s the first chance I’ve had to tell Kevin about my meeting with Petrone. I fill him in. When I get to the part where Petrone denied trying to have me killed, Kevin asks, “And you believed him?” “I did.” “Just because that’s what he said?” I nod. “As stupid as it might sound, yes. I’ve had dealings with him before, and he’s always told me the truth, or nothing at all. And he had nothing to gain by lying.” “Andy, the guy has had a lot of people murdered. How many confessions has he made?”

Rosenfelt knows that none of his readers care about the weather, the tea, or whether people say hello to each other or not. And so he leaves all of that out and lets the reader imagine that this stuff took place. And it’s enough.

In the published novel, the first line of speech is “And you believed him.” With that, we’re straight into Kevin’s incredulity and concern, and his desire to understand what the team is dealing with in regard to Petrone.

Meanwhile, Andy has his lawyer hat on. His initial reply is succinct, so that we are left in no doubt about his belief that Petrone was telling the truth, and that he is determined to reassure Kevin.

This is no-messing dialogue that focuses on story, not whether the speech is what we might actually hear – in its entirety – in real life. It’s an excellent example of an author ensuring that every word counts and that there’s no bus-stop-talk filler.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding ⚜ Tips & Advice

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Teaser

Summary: A turn of events has the people you thought you trusted stabbing you in the back and leaving you broken hearted and betrayed. Who knew though that sometimes things just happen for a reason Pairing: f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 390 Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of cheating and getting pregnant. That's pretty much it since this is a short teaser lol a/n: I took an excerpt from the fic to kind of show the drama that's gonna go down so it's a spoiler for what's about to come hehe Requested by @kkusadmirer

"We have to tell her" I hear her say and stop short, my heartbeat immediately raising and hold my breath waiting for the response. "You told me you were on the pill though. How did this happen?" and at that my heart breaks.

"I don't know I guess I forgot to take a couple of them and-" "And so what? You decided that screwing me without protection would work out just fine? Fuck Jina" Jared cuts her off and I hold my hand over my mouth to stop the sobs that I know are sure to come. 

"You were the one that said you wanted to stop using them" she defends. "Oh and so now it's my fault. Jina we both agreed to that and you know it" he says and at that the room falls silent for a moment before he speaks up again.

"What are we gonna do?" he says, leaving the choice in her hands. "We need to tell her because I'm not getting rid of this baby. I don't care if you're going to be in our kid's life or not but either way we're telling her" she says, standing firm on what she thinks is right. 'She should've thought about that before she started fucking my boyfriend' I think to myself and wait for the conversation to continue.

"She deserves to know" she says in a hushed tone and they both agree moments later that they'll tell me after the party to avoid both of our families catching wind of it and at that I walk away as quietly as I can, heading to the bathroom across the house to collect myself before I even try to face anyone. 

'How the fuck could they do this to me? How could they do this to us? Did everything the three of us did together really not matter? All of this love that I gave Jared and he gave me made me feel like we were gonna last forever but I guess my wants and needs weren't enough for him. He wanted what he wanted and found that in my best fucking friend. 

I chuckle dryly at that thought and how ironic it sounds at the moment. The want to avoid the drama of the rest of the family knowing? Well they don't have that kind of luxury anymore.

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[exhaled-spirals]

how do you have this myriad of quotes, that too on wildly different topics? do you just read a lot? what all do you read, why, how do you pick out books, how fast do you read? i wanna know everything!

Hi! Most of the quotes I share are from books I've read, although now and then I come across an interesting excerpt from a book I haven't read and I post it on here, so I can remember later why I added this title to my to-read list. (Else I tend to lose interest in the books that have been waiting on that list for years and end up removing them, not remembering why I added them in the first place...) I don't think I read very fast, I just spend a whole lot of time reading, it's my #1 hobby!

I add books to my to-read list very whimsically... The other day I bought 7 books in a secondhand bookshop, then read an article in a science magazine that made me want to read the book this scientist had written, then drove past some ruins on my way home and thought it would be nice to read some books about ruins, so I googled it and found 4 promising books, so at the end of the day I had added 12 new titles to my bottomless pit of a to-read list.

I'm not sure how I end up picking books from it—I do a lot of seasonal reading (eerie Gothic novels are enhanced by autumn and conversely!) But also I went to look at some books I've read recently, and I had a good reason to read each one when I did:

The Palace of Dreams, Ismail Kadare: I woke up from a messed-up dream and decided now (a Monday at 3am) was the perfect time to start reading this book about a dream-analysis factory

Sueños en el umbral, Fatema Mernissi: it was August and I was looking for a seasonal read, and this one is set in Morocco which made it feel summery to me. (I really enjoyed it, I recommend it if you like women's memoirs. It's called Dreams of Trespass in English)

Disent les imbéciles, Nathalie Sarraute: Someone said something dumb near me which reminded me that Nathalie Sarraute wrote a book called "So say the fools". I wouldn't recommend reading it in translation considering she is barely readable in French (I like her)

The Great Zoo of China, Matthew Reilly: life was stressful in early September and I wanted a mindless read with monsters and explosions (and exploding monsters), so this was perfect

Sto je muškarac bez brkova, Ante Tomić (I read it in French): a friend was travelling to Croatia which was a sign from the universe that I needed to read the one Croatian novel on my to-read list. I don't remember when and why I added it

La Chaîne éternelle, Fernand Gregh: the political situation in my country is shit so it's time to read some early-1900s alexandrine poetry, since poetry is the opposite of politics

So I would say my method for picking books is to add absolutely whatever to my to-read list following random impulses and let them ferment in there for years being vaguely aware of their existence, until the stars align to make this book suddenly relevant or necessary :)

[mydearesthrry]

book (lovers) - h.s.

a/n: okay i know ive said this about everything ive written but this one takes the cake for being so self indulgent its actually insane. excerpt she reads is from page 425 of ‘kiss the sky’ by kb ritchie :)) enjoy my loves, this is one of my favorite things ive written. oh also this is severely corny LMFAO

Splayed across the couch, she rested her head against the armrest while her feet lay idle in Harry’s lap, chin downturned as she read the book that dangled above her face, fingers softly tapping against the front and back covers. It was Sunday, and a big part of their ‘weekly reset’ as they liked to call it, entailed a full house clean, and while the dishwasher ran and the clothes were in the washer and dryer, they would read a little bit of their respective books.

However, what never failed to make people laugh, including Harry’s fans, was how drastic of a change their books would be in genre. How Harry would carry around an early century poetry book, while his girlfriend would carry around an annotated copy of a romance book, flashy tabs sticking out of the edges and all. It was always a conversation starter when they would go to cafes, and they would even try to switch books— which never failed to make Y/N laugh at the way Harry scrunched up his nose at the vulgar language on the pages. He almost always asked to switch their books when she ended up on a smut scene. Just his luck, he guesses.

“Switch?” Harry murmured, eyes looking up from his Bukowski book, seeing his sweet girlfriend peek her eyes up from hers.

“Um,” She said quietly, almost mouse-like. “Can we… I just, um, I just got to— a good part?”

“A good pa- oh.” Harry hummed, brows scrunched in confusion until he realized what she meant. “Uh… how about 5 more minutes? Give y’a bit of a head start right now if y’speed read?”

“Yes! Okay, going.” She smiled, eyes trailing back toward her book, flipping through the pages every 30-45 seconds, knowing she was now in a time crunch.

Harry watched in admiration as she grasped her book with one hand, fanning out toward the living room, her face now fully visible to him. He admired the way her brows would scrunch every so often, or how she picked up the habit of pinching her bottom lip between her fingers in concentration like he did. Or how her brows would furrow, and how she would blink the slightest bit faster when she found something cute, as if she was trying to paint a picture in her head without closing her eyes, finding the smallest reprieve in the semi-regular darkness.

She was his own personal jar of perfection. Of sunshine, of love, of happiness. She saved him. In every way a person can be saved.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she grinned with finality, sitting up to meet him halfway, knees hitting the side of his thigh as she held her book out, thumb in place of her spot. He smiled as she shook him right out of his thoughts, a serene glimmer in his eyes, heart nearly falling out of his chest in pure awe. Awe that someone could love him this much, and awe that he could love somebody this much.

This feeling almost felt beyond him.

“C’mere, actually. Lemme read t’you.” He smiled, pulling her into his lap, adjusting her so she rested against the crook of his arm and on the armrest. Clearing his throat, he began reading the first line of the new chapter in her book, pulling her closer every time she would swoon quietly, so quietly, it almost sounded like a bubble in her throat.

Eventually, she takes over, giving him a chance to rest his voice. She croons the words softly, the utmost intimacy permeating the room as she reads the words of of the ivory colored page, committing the inked words to memory.

Breathing softly, her voice light and her hand on Harry’s which rested on her stomach, she read, “‘I realize, in this very moment, that love was the only thing missing from my life. And it’s the only thing that matters to me.’”

“Tha’s so me.” Harry states, making Y/N lift her head up from his chest.

“What?” She guffaws, laughs bubbling from her chest. “Oh my god, I’ve turned you into me.”

“Wha’ d’you mean?” He says confused.

“Never in my entire time of knowing you, Harry Styles, have you ever said ‘that’s so me’. I’m literally turning you into a carbon copy of me. Day by day, baby.” She grins, book face down on the couch so she can talk to him and keep her spot.

“Umm,” He giggles. “Well, y’kinda take up… like… 90 percent of my life. So, I was bound t’pick up your silly lingo.”

“Sure, baby. But, yeah- I agree. Love— our love, really, is one of the only things that matter to me. In a different universe, if I didn’t have this… if I didn’t have you? I think I would be so lost right now.”

“And in every single universe,” he whispers, pecking a soft kiss to her lips. “I will always find you. My perfect Sunny girl.”

[emkayewrites]

Lukola fanfiction from Luke's POV- Luke and Nicola are filming the carriage scene but both of them secretly like each other - and both of them are unavailable.

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

5th November 2022 – London (UK)

It was a surreal experience to be on a soundstage, even though he had been on dozens of them by this point in his career.

The Bridgerton production did soundstages like nowhere else.  Everything was huge, and everything was opulent.  He stood in front of a dark blue, four-wheeled carriage.  It was elegant with an exterior adorned with intricate gold-leaf patterns and lacquered wood that contrasted sharply with its’ gleaming brass fittings.  It stood looking rather out of place in front of a giant green screen, in the middle of the chasmic space that was Soundstage 12. 

He was dressed in the finest formalwear that the Regency Period had to offer, and he was covered in what he approximated to be about twelve layers of make-up and two entire cans of hairspray. 

He usually felt a mixture of nerves and excitement before filming a scene as crucial as the one they were about to film.  Today, he was just plain nervous.

He was hardly able to take note of the other people on the soundstage.  At one far end, there were several chairs and tables surrounded by a small group of the hair and make-up team.  At another end, there were a handful of crew members working with cables, rigging and lighting fixtures.  Usually, he would be approaching them all, making small talk, trying to ease his own racing mind but he felt too unsettled to make conversation.

He knew that the way he was feeling was not just about the nature of the scene they were about to film.  It was about her.  She stood several feet away from him with Erika and John adding touches to her make-up and clothes.  She was resplendent in a shimmering baby blue gown that was cinched in a way that flattered both her waist and her ample breasts. 

Breasts he would have to touch again. 

All he wanted to do was to touch her again.

He felt nauseous.

At the same time, he knew that was the very last thing he should do.

He sensed there was something different in her since that night in his trailer too.  She appeared to keep more of a distance, the bantering dialogue they usually had was reduced to a few quips.  He could not be sure, but he felt some sort of frustration emanating from her.  As if she wanted to say something but could not.  He could also be imagining it. He did a lot of that recently.  Imagining conversations with her.  Imagining being with her.  He then got angry at himself.  Then he felt the inevitable anxiety that always came when he realised that he was having strong feelings for the woman he would now have to act like he was having strong feelings for. 

His fathers’ advice echoed in his mind: Keep the work as work, and don’t neglect your real life.  How could he do that when the real life was becoming his work, and the work was becoming his real life? 

Six burly-looking men of various ages approached the carriage.  Andrew trailed behind them, a headset wrapped around his neck and clipboard in hand.  Andrew, their director, was a slight man in his earlier forties with a refined yet approachable air about him.  He gestured for both Luke and Nicola to come towards him.

“Guys, guys… you both look incredible.” Andrew’s eyes beamed with enthusiasm. “Wow!”

In that moment, Luke felt thankful that it was Andrew who was going to be taking them through these scenes.  There was nothing like having a director that not only led you through your scenes, but also lifted you up and empowered you throughout the process. 

“Right, so the way we’ll do this is – the camera will be in the carriage with you guys, we’ll be back over here with the monitors to give that added illusion of intimacy in there.” Andrew explained, pointing to the monitor setup a few feet away.

“And these lovely men…” Andrew motioned to the guys standing by the carriage. “They will be our carriage hydraulics!  We can’t have the carriage attached to real horses for a scene like this, so this was Netflix’s next best offer.”

“Well, we’ll try not to make it too long of a shoot day for you guys.” Luke found himself saying with a nervous chuckle. 

“Right, so we’ll get you guys up into position…” Andrew nodded towards the carriage. 

Luke felt the instinct to go to Nicola, to take her by the hand and guide her up onto the carriage, but one of the carriage men beat him to it.

They stepped into the luxurious interior and seated themselves opposite one another as the script requested.  Andrew looked in through the window at them.

“So, we’ll be on the monitors and the camera will follow you from there…” He motioned to the other side of the carriage, where a camera was positioned, looking in at them through the window.

Luke watched Nicola orient herself, taking note of the cues Andrew was outlining.  He was taken aback by how intimate it all felt now that he was inside the carriage.  It was just going to be them and one camera.  

“That looking good to you, Luke?” Andrew interrupted his thoughts.  Luke was not sure he had taken everything in, but he felt compelled to nod. 

“Alright, so we’ve got this mixture of anger and hurt – but there is a tension running underneath it all.”  Andrew’s eyes lit up again. “It’s the tension of longing.  And that tension finally breaks to give us – the carriage scene!”

“Let’s do this!” Nicola high-fived Andrew, matching his excitement.

He could not ignore how she lit up when she smiled.  He thought about how it did not help that she was made up to resemble an actual Goddess on earth.

“Alright, great! On my cue, guys.” Andrew pulled the headset over his head and moved away from them.  They heard his echoing footsteps recede as the entire soundstage became eerily silent.  The lighting around them dimmed.  Suddenly, the carriage started to move in an undulating way. 

Luke’s eyes met Nicola’s and for a second, they both stifled a giggle at the ridiculousness of it all. 

They heard Andrew’s shout: “ACTION!”

Then their masks came down.

Nicola vanished, and the misty-eyed Penelope sat before him, a look of anger etched on her face.

He fixed her with a stoic look as he spoke: “You cannot marry that man. He will leave you, and he is too particular.”

He watched her watching him, her face getting angrier.

“And he is – he is just not right for you, Pen.” He continued, part-insisting, part-pleading.

She shook her head furiously at him. “He did not propose.”

He stared at her, stunned. 

“In fact, he rejected me because of you.” She practically spat the words out.  “Because the scene you caused led him to believe you have feelings for me.  An idea so preposterous, I do not know what to do besides laugh.”

There were times when she was acting that he found himself lost in what she was doing.  The way she conveyed emotions with so much power and grace.  He watched her with awe.

She continued, through gritted teeth: “Now, will you please leave me alone and let us ride home in silence?”

His heart was racing and there were tears in his eyes as he leaned forward.

“I cannot.” His tone was defiant.

“Please!” She snapped at him, near tears herself.

“I cannot!” He found himself snapping back, a hot, angry tear rolling down his cheek.  He could no longer tell if they were acting tears, or tears of real frustration. 

“Because…” He swallowed, as if mustering up his courage. “What if I did have feelings for you?”

He felt the nausea again. He wanted to remind himself that this was acting, that he should not be having such a visceral reaction to those words but at the same time, he knew it was helping his performance. 

“What?” She blinked at him, still frowning.

He moved so that he was closer to her and then knelt before her.  He was aware he was shaking.  His breath was laboured.

“I have spent so long trying to feel less, trying to be the kind of man society expects me to be.”  He reached forward for her hands, his nerves increasing as he was aware she was surely able to feel the sweat on his palms and feel how much he was shaking.  He found himself squeezing her hands tightly, as if to anchor himself.

“And for a moment, I thought I had succeeded.” He continued. “But these past few weeks have been full of confounding feelings.”

Where did Colin end and he begin?  He thought to himself.  He felt himself getting choked up.  He felt the weeks of frustration and conflicting emotions rising inside him. 

“Feelings like a total inability to stop thinking about you. About that kiss.”

She reacted to his words with a small gasp.

“Feelings like dreaming of you when I’m asleep.  And in fact, preferring sleep because that is where I might find you.  A feeling that is like torture.”

Speaking these words felt terrifying, electrifying and cathartic all at once. Another tear rolled down his cheek.

“One which I cannot… do not… and will not give up.” He spoke emphatically.

“Please. Do not say things you do not mean.” She shook her head at him, disbelieving.

“But I do mean it.  It is everything I have wanted to say to you… for weeks.”

An expression of confusion and pain appeared on her face.

“But… Colin, we are friends.”

Even though the rejection was merely playacting, it still stung.

“Yes, but we…” He spoke with hurt in his voice.  He wanted to say more but swallowed back his words and recomposed himself. He moved back to his seat. “Forgive me. I do not know what I was thinking.”

“But I’d very much like to be more than friends.” 

He stared at her with a mixture of amazement and desire.

“So much more.” She added, a look of longing in her eyes.

He moved closer to her, and for a moment, their faces met, and they took each other in, both breathing heavily.  All he wanted to do was to kiss her, but he was also terrified of what that would do to him.  Then, their mouths met in a passionate kiss.

He found his mind and body travel back… back to the inside of his trailer… back with his hands all over her.  Her mouth and body responded to his with a willingness and desire equal to his own.

He felt the stickiness of her lipstick smearing around the corners of his mouth, her hands in his hair – neither of them having any thought for their hair or make-up.

And then suddenly, he heard it as she did because they found themselves springing away from one another at the same time.

“CUUUUUUUUUUUT!”

A bright light exploded in their faces as the spotlight above them came back to life.  Andrew and Liam, the cinematographer, were stood by the window next to the camera.  Andrew surveyed their messy faces and hair with wide eyes.

“Woah, you guys were really into that.”

Luke instinctively wiped at his lips with the back of his hand as Nicola smoothed out the front of her dress.

“We’ve been yelling cut for over a minute while you did the kiss – we even timed it!” He laughed.

“Don’t say we don’t give you one hundred and ten percent.” Nicola joked.  Despite her humour, Luke sensed that she seemed unsettled.

“That’s for sure!” Andrew agreed. “Alright, let’s get hair and make-up in here and then we can get the next angle.”

Andrew and Liam moved away from the carriage.  Luke could hear the rest of the crew outside the carriage also dispersing as the normal noises of set life resumed. 

He watched Nicola as she touched gently at her own hair, assessing it for damage.

“You look beautiful.” He found himself saying out loud.

She stared him with a look he did not recognise.  She did not reply.

Quick little authors note: I watched the many interviews Nicola and Luke gave about the carriage scene, about how intense it was, and about how in one instance, they were so caught up filming that they did not hear ‘cut’ being called by the director. It inspired me to write a short story where Nicola and Luke really like each other, but don't know how the other feels, and have to hide it on set. In my mind, that was the only logical reason that this scene was so intense for them. It couldn’t possibly be that they are just such great actors ;) Anyway, that short chapter became the fanfiction I'm STILL writing about these two! So I hope you enjoyed what was actually the very first chapter of this story that I ever wrote -I built the rest of the story around it!

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt: Billy and Damian and the whole soulmate thing.

“That could be considered a security concern,” Batman says very, very neutrally, which is when Billy realizes Batman hasn’t actually said anything to him since he said “Shazam”. 

Shit. 

“So what?” he says, edging a little bit away from Batman as he eyes him warily and debates “Shazam”-ing himself again. Like. No reason. Just this might be an easier conversation to have on eye-level, that’s all. 

Also it’s Batman, so . . . 

“It’s true,” Superman says, wincing slightly. Billy shoots him a dirty look. He still hasn’t forgotten that Superman apparently thinks he shouldn’t be allowed to risk his literal life and soul, like he thinks he’s bad at this or something? He’s really good at risking his literal life and soul, actually! Like, he’s really good at it, and it’s his whole literal thing. Superman didn’t even get hired to do this, he just showed up one day and started punching people! Billy at least had a job interview! 

Such bullshit. 

“Seriously?” he says with a scowl. “I’m good at secret identities. Nobody knew mine ‘til I told you! That’s the same track record as Batman!” 

“It’s technically superior,” Robin says. “Red Robin and Black Bat both deduced Father’s identity as children. And also–” 

“That’s unnecessary information at this time, Robin,” Batman cuts in while Billy’s still appreciating having a supportive soulmate. Robin rolls his eyes. Or Billy’s pretty sure he does–he can’t really tell through the mask, but Robin moved his head like he was rolling his eyes. 

“The list would require some time to go over,” Robin says like he’s agreeing. Billy hides a snicker in his hand. Batman eyes him. 

“. . . you do realize I'm going to be taking you in now, right?” he asks. 

“Dammit,” Billy says. 

“Holy crap, Cap swears?!” Flash yelps. 

“Oh yeah, it’s actually like a magic thing,” Billy says. “I literally can’t say bad words when I'm Captain Marvel? So no, technically, but also yes and all the fucking time.” 

“My entire life is a lie,” Flash mutters as he buries his face in his hands. Green Arrow pats him on the back. 

“You can’t ‘take me in’,” Billy says, scowling up at Batman. “I've gotta protect Fawcett. And you’ve got like, so many kids! There’s no way you have space for another one! They wouldn’t even let you, anyway, as soon as somebody noticed I was there I’d just end up in the stupid system again.” 

“I’m a licensed foster parent and there are seventeen bedrooms in my house,” Batman replies dryly. 

“Bullshit!” Billy sputters. “That’s not a house! Nobody’s house has seventeen bedrooms!” 

“Technically that count includes the servants’ quarters and guest wing, but it is accurate,” Robin says. 

“Guest wing?!” Billy demands. “Why do you have a guest wing?!” 

“For guests,” Batman replies matter-of-factly. Billy scowls at him again. Just because Batman’s funny doesn’t mean he’s gonna laugh. Or get stuck in the system again. 

Like, he’ll just run away immediately, obviously. But getting to the point where he can run away is gonna be a pain, and the League is obviously gonna be a pain about it too.

Ugh. This is so dumb.