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betweenthings2 · 6 months ago

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hello!!! warning you now that this is going to be the longest thing ever because i’m allergic to being concise but it’s finally time for me to actually send you an ask to gush and discuss your incredible writing. i’ve been interacting with your work on ao3 and tumblr for over a year now and i just lurk and heart everything because i refuse to use tumblr how it’s intended to be used🫣 but it’s time to show my face (even though this is anonymous oops) and say the quality of your writing is genuinely unparalleled to anything else i’ve ever read online and dare i say it comes close to/ overtakes some of the published books i’ve read and loved. you are such a talent it drives me crazy. you’ve quite literally spoiled fanfiction for me because i’ll read something for a different fandom and think “ugh it’s good but it’s not betweenthings2😔😔😔”

i saw you answer an ask a while ago asking what your goal for writing is and you said something along the lines of wanting to move people with your work. when i saw that it made me smile because you’ve achieved it ten times over and im worried you don’t realise it!!! so im going to tell you about my experience reading Roadkill for the first time (side note but in my opinion this is your best and therefore most underrated piece and i would love to talk about it further)

i remember being at a cafe that day by myself having a little drink and sweet treat and getting the email notification that you’d posted something to ao3 and nearly dying from anticipation for the rest of the day because i knew i wouldn’t do the fic justice to just quickly read it in a noisy cafe. it would be a waste of art. so in the evening i lied to my parents that i had plans with friends and wouldn’t be home for dinner and instead walked to the park near my house with a block of chocolate and sat on a park bench in the slightly-chilly-but-still-nice-out australian dusk. trust me i remember it so vividly because it’s like a core memory for me now. i’d been going through a really tough time mentally and felt super disconnected from everything and everyone. when i tell you i read all 35k words in one sitting and wept like a baby. i’m a very emotional girl dont get me wrong but the release that your writing made me feel was something so special that i’d never felt before. the whole piece is so devastating and confronting and just misery but it made me feel so seen and whole and human. if i could describe your writing in one word i think it would be human. everything is always raw and vulnerable and messy but so tender it just makes me insane. i sat in that park and cried for such a long time and even though the whole experience was so heavy and i could feel the grief you manufactured in my gut i left that park feeling lighter and grounded. i think that’s how anyone would feel after witnessing such greatness. (side note but i’ve actually banned myself from re-reading roadkill for the minute because it makes me lose my mind a bit too much but that’s just a further testament to you. can’t wait to get back to my scripture later on)

your other fics on ao3 and perfect as well and i read Second Letter From St Julian, All This Barley Getting By, I Forget A Lot Of Things But I’ll Never Forget You and Me And You vs Them religiously. they are my comfort fics through and through🩷 maybe the hyper fixation has gone too deep for me but when i’m trying to fall asleep i use the plots of your fics to expand on in my head and it’s just the perf combination to lull me to sleep.

now for imo the main event of this ask- i need to tell you the extreme and life threatening brainrot THIS specific line from Of Bouquets And Back Rubs has given me.

"Sorry," Matty apologizes.

George sighs, but doesn't stop. "I'm going to start talking to your therapist if you keep apologizing for things you don't need to apologize for," he says.

what the hell. you can’t just write that and expect my whole world to not revolve around it for the rest of my life. that line ping pongs around my head at all times. at work, in the shower, when i’m on a walk, when i’m laying in bed, it’s literally always on my mind. i don’t know why but i just thought you should know that’s it’s STUCK with me. like i’m truly affected. (if you ever wanted to expand on it you know you have at least one devoted fan of the idea)

hopefully this will be my first of many asks because it’s so nice to finally tell you how deeply in love i am with your words. to hold me accountable i’ll claim the matcha emoji 🍵 if that’s something you do!!!!

i just realised i didn’t tell you how your prompts make me melt but they do and i wouldn’t survive the commute to tafe without them. just little bites of pure literature you spoil us so much.

thanks for giving me something to lurk on and obsess over- it’s been an honour🩷 (also ps i wonder if you can figure out who this is based on the freaky amount of times i heart your posts. someone has to sit me down and explain that this isn’t instagram🤕)

Hi, newly christened Matcha Anon!! =)

I meant to answer this yesterday, but I just kept reading through it and being so incredibly touched and blown away by all of your kind words that I didn't entirely have a response, but I think I do now. I will also be long.

First of all, I am so touched (and a little surprised) that you find my writing to be on par with published novels, so thank you so much, that is such an amazing compliment!!! I can't believe I've spoiled you for fic. I'm getting back into the swing of things now that I'm home, so I'll have more fic for you soon.

I'm also so glad to hear that I've creating something moving. Sometimes I think I take things a little too seriously, particularly writing fic, but I'm thrilled to hear that you find my work moving. This will be stuck in my head forever:

"it would be a waste of art."

Roadkill was a lot to write because it gets so bleak and some of me is in there, but I'm so moved by your experience of reading it and honored that you would share it. That's my goal, generally--to create catharsis. And to see my fanfic called greatness? Oh my god. Oh my god. I have no words other than oh my god and thank you so, so much!!

I'm thrilled to see that Of Bouquets and Backrubs resonated with you, particularly that bit of dialogue. That whole fic was a little bit last minute, to be entirely honest and I was working so hard to make it fluffy, rather than angsty. I might expand on that fic in the future, but I also really like how it ended. Who knows what will happen. I don't.

I'm also so happy that you like the prompts! I think they're really fun to write and very low stakes for me. Apologies for not having a more regular schedule for posting anything, but there's no way I could keep that up for more than a week or two. I would explode.

Thank you so much for all the compliments and reading what I write!!! 💚💚💚

#asks #betweenthings talks

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swanhookheart · 1 year ago

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Thoughts on AI writing, the WGA strike, and ways to help

This whole post is a hot mess, but I think it communicates the point I'm trying to make so I'm gonna hit "publish" and call it a day, peeps!

In the last four years, I have worked as a writing tutor, a teaching assistant for first-year composition, an embedded tutor for ESL writing workshops, a reading partner, editor-in-chief of my school's literary magazine, and as a freelance college essay coach. I'm also a novelist (unpublished but working on it), a poet, recipient of my community college's 2021 Outstanding English Student Award, a voracious reader, and in possession of a two-year degree in Creative Writing (four-year Berkeley literature degree coming in Spring). I guess you could say I like words.

I could go on for days about all the reasons I hate ChatGPT being used as a writing aid (especially by students—ffs, pls don't make me have to report y’all for academic dishonesty; it will be a shitty experience for both of us), but here’s one I really care about: vulnerability.

As it is, ChatGPT's ability to generate prose rivals my own at about age eight (that is, it looks like a thesaurus vomited all over the page and still struggles to spell the word "fluorescent" when prompted—fuck that word, to be fair). But let's envision a world two, maybe five, years down the road where AI is capable of generating a flawless sentence. It's well-structured, the grammar checks out, everything's spelled right, and the words the algorithm has chosen work to communicate its thoughts. Even then, AI wouldn't be able to replace or compete with even the most inexperienced writers among us. Why? Because, in my opinion at least, imperfections are what make art, art.

Any time I get the urge to overthink something I've created or edit it to the point of unrecognizability (which is often; I have OCD, fam!), I like to think of this sentence in Latin:

perfectus est.

To those who have not subjected themselves to completed 2 years of Latin, this might look like it'd translate to "it is perfect", but the actual, direct translation beside the adjective "perfectus, -a, -um" in all my textbooks and dictionaries has been, instead, "finished, completed". Proper classicists can feel free to correct me here, but the original Latin doesn't seem to carry with it quite the same connotations of quality or superiority that we have in the English word "perfect", and that's low-key fucking inspirational. I think about it like this: things can be "perfect" without being flawless. They only need to be done, and "done" leaves a lot more freedom for self-expression. If just being "done" makes something "perfect", then whatever peculiarities that piece possesses are also perfect. This makes total sense in my mind, but I feel like I'm on the verge of having a stroke trying to articulate it.

Art, for me, is never about the completed piece itself. It's the quirks, it's the process, it's the slight imperfections—like finding out 14 years after starting my fantasy series that the surname of one of my main characters is slang for "severe diarrhea" but being too committed to the name at this point to change it. It's the brushstroke in a painting that doesn't quite stay in the lines or the musician’s voice cracking as they sing through an especially personal set of lyrics. Some wise person once gave me a variation of this advice, and I’ve just kind of run with it ever since: the little details in our creations we convince ourselves are flaws are, more often than not, just spaces where our humanity is seeping through. They’re not bad. They’re just instances of us, as creators, making ourselves vulnerable in the name of our craft. Whether it's in a writing workshop, therapy, school, or anywhere else, I think we all feel a bit self-conscious or even uncomfortable any time we have to share pieces of ourselves with others. Baring our souls is scary. But I like to think humans are generally good at heart, and the kinds of things they typically have to say in response to these instances are designed to enhance the bits of humanity they find in our works, rather than erase or destroy them. So, making choices as artists that force us to feel vulnerable and get us out of our comfort zone because we think we’re “not doing it right” are not just welcome experiences to those intent on growing, but essential. And AI cannot do that. It can't feel, it can't think, and so these moments of vulnerability never occur. The opportunity to generate real, human connection has been lost.

The human brain is a remarkable thing. It’s "trained", as it were (in the same way ChatGPT is trained), to think the way it does not just because it's consumed a lot of other people's material, but because it's experienced a lot in its own right. We've all experienced love, we've mourned, we’ve endured trauma, we’ve laughed to the point of tears, we've left the fucking TV remote in the refrigerator again dammit, and all of these things affect how we relate to the world and to certain topics we may write about. We’re not even touching on how neurodivergence and other brain stuff can further change how we experience life; there’s even more variety to be found when factors like that are taken into account, but I'm not trying to write a dissertation here. As the products of all these influences, our brains make very intentional choices when we write (even when it feels like we're just slapping stuff on a page and hoping it sticks). The formal features of our prose are all going to be dependent on a combination of things we’ve done, felt, and read.

I mean, I guess some might want to use the Infinite Monkey Theorem (the idea that, if you leave infinite monkeys with infinite typewriters for an infinite amount of time, they will inevitably produce a finite number of texts, including the Complete Works of William Shakespeare, an infinite number of times) to argue that writing is actually more formulaic than artistic and so maybe utilizing these algorithms is totally fine. I guess the algorithm is being compared to infinite monkeys here. I don’t know. I’ve gotten hungry since sitting down to write this silly blog post and so I’m getting a little distracted. But humans aren’t alive an infinite amount of time, and the brevity of our existence necessitates a certain urgency in what and how we write—an urgency that leads us to conclude it’s better our work be flawed but out there than faultless but stuck inside our heads. So we write. We write good shit, we write bad shit, we buy a copy of Scrivener or MS Word, we join Tumblr dot com and publish all kinds of silly memes and dick jokes, and we get a world full of funky, crazy, chaotic art that reflects our funky, crazy, chaotic selves. Our humanity seeps out with every word we commit to paper, and we let it because it’s better to live in a world filled with jagged edges and mismatched hues than it is to live in one created by something that is literally fucking incapable of feeling.

You might think this is a great blog post. You might think it's garbage. You’re valid either way. But AI couldn't have written it. It’s full of tiny little pieces of me that just kinda slipped their way in as I was writing. It’s not super polished. It’s a bit all over the place because oh my god I’m craving a cookie but want to finish writing this before I leave my desk to go and get one. No matter what anyone’s thoughts are on my particular voice, though, I think we can all agree that it exists. It exists because I write often—daily, if I can—and because I feel, I think, I am. Those things come through, and they’re what make this a semi-coherent (I hope) blog post as opposed to a smattering of random words ChatGPT probably couldn’t define for you at gunpoint. Whatever you think about this post, AI couldn’t have written it and that’s the point.

This is just one of the reasons why I support the WGA strike and will continue to do so for as long as it takes the union to get the deal they deserve. I am not and will likely never be a member of this union, but the work they’re doing with this strike to push back against AI and its wildfire-like proliferation across creative industries is essential. Algorithms simply cannot do the work that humans do—not today, not ever. Not because they’re not advanced enough, but because vulnerability is what make art, art. Connecting with other human beings—which is all any of us ever really hope to do with our art anyway—requires that vulnerability.

I’m just some random dweeb on the internet, seeing marginalized workers struggle because a bunch of crappy billionaires don't want to come to the table and feeling like shouting some words into the void about it. Maybe nobody will see this post, and that’s okay. But maybe they will and I can do some good with it. I haven’t got a lot of money to help (I’m in my broke college student era). But donations to the Entertainment Community Fund are being accepted and these funds go back into the hands of union (WGA and SAG-AFTRA) members as hardship funds if they need financial help during the work stoppage—this is my understanding, at least; pls correct me if I’m wrong!

Link below:

If you can’t donate, please reblog. I know it would mean a lot to me if I were in their position.

#writers strike #WGA #support the wga #Chatgpt #artificial intelligence

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michelleelizabethtanner · 2 years ago

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LOVE SEEING YOU POST!!! (And I don't know how Tumblr works either lol). For the fan fic ask game please?

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

@joeyjoeylee I first need to tell you that I am incapable of not fangirl squealing any time I see you across platforms. I love your Brio takes and I love your fandom interaction. You’re such a class act.

❤️ My favorite line I’ve written… Hmm. Ok, this is gonna be so anticlimactic but my favorite line I’ve written is: “‘Baby…’ he murmured, his voice hoarse, and she closed her eyes.” It’s my favorite because I saw that moment in my head months before I ever even considered writing a fanfic. It was one of my favorite pet moments in chapter 13 of Rough Night, where Brio have their first fight as a couple and Rio (also Beth but mostly Rio) is so defeated by it. They argue, they stomp away, Beth overreacts and is ready to just give up on the whole thing. In my mind, that moment carried so much heaviness for Rio of their entire relationship. It’s like, he’s been endlessly serving her, fighting for her, forgiving her, choosing her. And just as he allowed himself to get close to her and let his guard down just a bit, she’s pulling her old crap again and running away again. So in my Brio brain that was such a moment of sadness and desperation and unwillingness to resign himself to a loss yet again. It’s not much of a line but it’s fraught with meaning for my fandom heart.

👻 My wildest headcanon is probably not too wild. I think Rio was drunk or high (or both) for the majority of his most vulnerable or impactful interactions with Beth. His “I’m gonna teach you” moment, his entire “you wanna be the king” speech, all the times they sat in his car and he rolled his head on his headrest to look at her all meaningfully. His “who’s more fun, me or the van people” moment in my favorite episode (4.08) he was so inebriated he staggered a little when he stepped down from his car. For sure 2.13. He was almost irrationally impaired.

🎨 If someone made fanart of my work I would probably explode. It wouldn’t matter which part. Someone being moved enough to make art based on anything I inspired in them is beyond an honor. That being said, the final moment of Rough Night in the upcoming closing chapter is actually based on a piece of show fan art by Septiembre. I wrote fanart of their fanart. I need to remember to post it when I post the final chapter!!!

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alllinesarebeautiful · 2 years ago

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Day 272 of 14,600 art meditation, October 22, 2022

I am jacked up on caffeine this morning, the happiness after a good long swim, the words of Anne Lamott about writing, and Eckhart Tolle’s book “The New Earth” about ego. I am filled up with love and sense of direction…

◉

This morning I journaled into this fabulous photo I found in my parents collection of family slides. I love my little self’s ‘steaming glare’, because it’s not about being in a ‘bad mood’. The look describes my entire life up until this All-lines-are-beautiful section - the frustration my Soul feels, as I learn how to create all doesn’t produce the glare. When I look at this photo, I don’t see my little girl self, I see my Soul trying to express itself.

◎

I have been listening to - over and over again - a video of one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, explaining how to become a writer. The audience she is talking to is specifically to highly sensitive people (HSPs!) who are largely missed by mainstream society. Think : people who are HighSensitive People HSP’s! + introverts + aspergers combined into one, that’s this group, these are my people.

⦿

She explains that every morsel of my body is trying to stop me from writing my memoir. Hearing this is such a relief because it explains so much. Maybe for me it’s a double whammy because there is a huge amount of personal art on my to do list too, which is a whole other layer of vulnerability.

◎

My post today is about pushing into a deeper layer of vulnerability. It’s about me me me, and I’ve been taught to be selfless. Showing up for me in ways other people are not able to, including my family. The awareness is for me NOT to compare myself to Shonda Rhimes, who has her entire life had the full support of her parents and her 4 older siblings.

◉

I’ve been dragging ou this unhelpful thought that says the reason I am not farther along in creating my dreams is because my family isn’t like hers. I think I’m ready to lay that one to rest.

Something else Anne Lamott always promotes, like it’s part of her Brand, is creating your Shitty First Draft of a manuscript. I’ve heard her say this for eons, and this week it finally dawned on me, I have my shitty first draft manuscript.

⦿

A VERY shitty first draft, because a) there is no outline, b) I’m not done with the art, c) and I don't know if I have the courage to really put out there material that none of my family members will understand. ‘Who will want to read anything you have to write?’ And then there is the horrifying fact (to me and to them) that I will be writing my own truth, which is something my family would really prefer would just go away forever. To which I can only respond with my favorite Anne Lamott quote of all time, “If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.”

◎

Anne Lamott says you have to be ‘open for business’ … so …in a couple of weeks, I’ve signed up to do something that is the single most terrifying thing I have ever done — (much more than my first real, pure design jobs of my career, after I taught myself design). I’m going to be out among writers - potential writers and ‘real paid’ writers, even famous writers … Not just in my imagination, but in person.

⦿

The vulnerability is that I have no idea what I’m going to say, or how I’m going to introduce myself. Can I trust myself? Will I make new friends? Will I find the Tribe I have always been looking for? I am opening myself up more …

◎

My plan is to go - to not bail - and give myself permission to just sit near a wall with a box of tissues and be weepy while I look at people who are actually living the life I want to be living. The ultimate act of visualization? Writers who do art too, and make a living off it, with one burning question, how did they do it? I might treat this event like I’m watching a movie, but I think the whole point of it is to speak to people.

⦿

Posting photos of me today because it’s my life that is the art piece, and also, there is no glare. I am so excited.

Xo, Anne

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floriannas · 3 years ago

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What Exactly Gothic Is

(Let me preface with trigger warnings, because Gothic makes a point of delving into dark themes: murder, abuse, racism, homophobia, incest, ableism, misogyny)

I have seen certain posts about what the definite characteristics of gothic fiction are that, I hate to say...felt either incomplete or inaccurate. And that has bothered me enough to make my own post about, at the very least, my understanding of this genre.

Some things to get out of the way:

Gothic does not have one fixed definition. It is fluid and nebulous, and while all literature reflects its society, genre changes massively depending on where it was written. Canadian Gothic is not Welsh Gothic is not American Gothic. Victorian Gothic is not contemporary Gothic is not Regency Gothic. Nineteenth century British gothic is often in response to the drastic technological changes of the industrial revolution. Welsh Gothic has a lot of focus on the disenfranchised and the coal mining industry. Where and when your WIP is, and where and when YOU are writing it, is going to define it.

We cannot talk about Gothic as a genre without talking about the racism that much of it is rooted in. We cannot ignore Charlotte Bronte’s dehumanising description of Bertha Rochester, a creole woman. We cannot ignore that Edward Hyde’s physical description is less ‘white’ than Henry Jekyll’s. We cannot ignore Heathcliff’s identity as a racially ambiguous villain. We cannot ignore just how bigoted in every way Dracula is. We CANNOT ignore the whiteness of much of the ‘feminist’ gothic literature, either. This is something you must be aware of if you're writing Gothic - it is not integral to gothic fiction but as I will explain, the traits of the genre lend themselves to antagonising marginalised groups.

Gothic is not just gothic horror. It can be horror, but it is still a genre in its own right and the horror is not mandatory.

This post is about gothic as a literary genre. I will not be talking about Ostrogoths, Visigoths, gothic architecture or art, and - for once - I’m not talking about the Goth subculture either, the two actually have almost nothing in common.

Some frequent, though not all required, characteristics of the gothic (this is NOT a checklist. I cannot stress that this is a genre purposefully WITHOUT a clear definition):

Familial trauma - the ending of family lines (the presence of the aristocracy is common in Gothic, this trope perhaps most blatantly depicted in Edgar Allan Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher), hauntings - not necessarily literal but metaphorical. There’s often a secret, or some kind of terrible incident that has been covered up, amongst a family that is inevitably unearthed. Marital trauma is very common - as seen in Jane Eyre with the original ‘madwoman in the attic’, the mystery surrounding the titular character in Rebecca, the secret room of The Bloody Chamber, the murdered husband being literally unearthed in House of America.

The setting is everything in Gothic. It often has a presence enough that it is a character in its own right. Key things about the setting is that it’s typically old - or at least old enough to have a turbulent history - and typically remote, ‘feral’, in amongst nature and separate from civilisation. The latter is very often executed in a racist and/or xenophobic way in Gothic classics. Think very critically of what is considered ‘civilisation’ and what is not. Dracula being a novel about white Christian Britons being threatened by an Eastern European vampire? Don’t replicate that. You will also see the ‘sublime’ (see below) here, and motifs of decay (which can be linked to the ending of a family line easily!), and themes surrounding imprisonment and escape. Gothic fiction loves pathetic fallacy - whether a storm, fog, rain or bitter cold, the weather is absolutely there to set the tone.

Repression. This can be of a trauma, but repression of sexuality can feature too. I have seen it asserted that homoeroticism is a key component in Gothic, and while it can feature, I would not say entirely agree, for a number of reasons. There is often a focus on ‘taboo’ sexuality, a categorisation which places LGBT people with taboos such as incest (which features often in some forms of Gothic). Homophobic tropes such as the predatory gay villain (e.g. Dracula’s obsession with Jonathan Harker and Mrs Danver’s obsession with Rebecca) are fairly common, and a general treatment of homosexuality as immoral or depraved especially older texts, so let’s not act like it’s always been a LGBT friendly genre. Something either hidden away or repressed that is then discovered is a huge, huge, component to most gothic fiction.

Misogynistic gender dynamics are often present: the combination of a young, vulnerable and innocent woman with an older male ‘Byronic Hero’ type love interest is common. The Victorian template of ‘bad’, ‘promiscuous’ or otherwise ‘improper’ woman reaching a sticky end is well loved. And then there’s Poe’s sinister obsession with ‘beautiful dead woman’. Don’t forget the intersection of ableism and misogyny with the ‘mad’ women like Bertha Rochester and Miss Havisham (though Eleanor Vance of The Haunting of Hill House is a sympathetic antidote of this trope.) The way women are written is something I’d very much like us to move beyond.

The sublime: this is everywhere. That something, especially the wilderness, is beautiful and massive enough to be incomprehensible.

Doubles or doppelgangers. Often as a ‘darker’ reflection of the protagonist - such as the hero and villain having close parallels, or the heroine as a foil to her husband’s mysterious dead first wife. It doesn’t have to exist just in this way, but the motif of the doppelganger is one Gothic fiction likes a lot.

‘Otherness’ or monstrosity. ‘Otherness’ and ‘Othering’ is something that is a crucial part of literary theory - what the narrative deems strange, unfamiliar, not like us, and so most depictions of monsters will also be Othered. Considering how almost all of the time in the Western literary canon this is a vehicle for racism, please think critically. Frankenstein’s monster has a more nuanced approach to what society defines as strange, or monstrous, how monstrosity is created, and self fulfilling prophecies.

Cultural anxiety. This is by no means unique to Gothic but the genre is shaped by what the society of its creation is afraid of. This - like Frankenstein or The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde - can be scientific advancement and new discoveries we do not yet understand, but the problem arises that for a lot of Western Gothic this has been marginalised groups.

The Uncanny. As found in various forms of horror - same with the fear of the unknown, but often in Gothic - that something resembles something else enough to recognise at least what it ‘tries’ to be, but not enough for it to be truly familiar. This is a really effective way to make any person, place, or thing unsettling.

I think I’ve covered most of my notes - please take my first bullet point into consideration as this will inevitably be a bit UK centric. The thing about gothic is that it doesn’t really have one fixed meaning, so you have a lot of freedom. Bonus: if you want to read a really good gay feminist Gothic short story, ‘The Resident’ by Carmen Maria Machado is one of the best pieces of fiction, ever.

#writeblr #gothic writeblr #racism tw #incest tw #misogyny tw #homophobia tw

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indiaalphawhiskey · 4 years ago

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I respectfully disagree with your last post (as an author). I’ve been in this fandom for 6 years and noticed it’s a little bit toxic when it comes to certain issues that should be normal and obvious to anyone.

I don’t get the “I choose the people I want to take criticism from” part. Ok, so why posting your work on a public page for independent writers where every subscriber will be able to read it and comment on it? Just send it to the people whose opinion matters to you and have a discussion about your work with them. If you post your work on a public page made specifically for independent writers, you are automatically posting it for everyone on that site. And every person has opinions on things and feels invited to express it if that particular thing is public and comments are open (I’m talking about respectful opinions, not slurs and offending someone).

If it was only for you and the people you actually want to get feedback from then wouldn’t it be easier to create an “élite” group where you read your work and then discuss it together? Because your post sends a very negative and exclusionary message to people that are reading your work for the first time or without knowing you as an author. It really seems like you are saying “dear readers, your opinion doesn’t matter to me so unless it’s positive I don’t want to hear it because this fanfic was written for me and this list of people.” Then don’t post it. But why making people feel excluded or bad because they did something normal just because they didn’t know it wasn’t written “for them” as you said in your post. And constructive criticism is just an opinion too as long as it doesn’t contain vulgarities, you don’t have to listen to it. Other’s opinion shouldn’t change the way you feel about your work but you also shouldn’t make them feel uncomfortable and bad for expressing it in a respectful way on a public page.

I know that authors on AO3 aren’t paid and that’s just for fun, but that’s what every page like AO3 is about: putting your work out there for other people to read with the possibility to express their personal opinion in a respectful way (I mean, you CAN disable the comments). Why making it public and then complaining and making other people feel bad for expressing their opinion on it? It’s not a diary or a personal Instagram profile.

So, first off, thank you for saying you respectfully disagree with me. I appreciate that you’re trying to be polite.

There are many different ways I can answer this ask, because there’s a lot to discuss here, however, I’m exhausted by this conversation and have tackled it many times before, so I’ll link things when I see fit and get straight to the point.

My question for you is this: What is the purpose of you posting negative (even though well-worded, polite, and tactful) unsolicited comments on a person’s fanfic? Why do you do it?

That’s not a rhetorical question, I really want you to think about the answer, because, for something to be called “constructive criticism” (which is specifically what we’re discussing here, versus the opposite “destructive” criticism) there has to be a point beyond just the fact that “it’s a public forum” and therefore, you feel entitled to express your opinion, whatever it may be. (That reasoning, btw, is called entitlement. No one said you weren’t allowed to have an opinion, but if you’re saying it to the author with no constructive, bettering purpose behind it, then at worst, your intent is to hurt them, which is just mean, no matter how politely you word it, and at best, you’re saying your opinions and preference take precedent over the author’s own.)

There are three reasons that I assume one can have when posting constructive criticism on work/art:

1. You want to help make them be a better writer, both now and in the future.

I, and other fellow authors, explain why this doesn’t work here and here, and there are more posts about it like this one, if you need to hear it from voices that are not from the Larry fandom (which I assume you do, since you said this is a little bit toxic here particularly.)

I encourage you to read all those posts, to get a better explanation in context, but the gist of them is this: for something to be truly constructive (synonym: helpful), the source, the timing, and the tact is key. Let me demonstrate: There is a difference between telling a friend while shopping, “I wouldn’t buy that dress, it’s not the most flattering on you,” and saying, while you’re out at a club, “Oh, that dress isn’t the most flattering on you, I wouldn’t wear it again.” -- Both are honest, worded politely, and both will achieve the same outcome: she will not wear the dress again -- but only one of them will cause undue stress, embarrassment, and self-consciousness (under the guise of being helpful), and that is all due to tact and timing. At the store, she can change into something else, and won’t assume you think she looks awful the entire day while you’re out. At the club, the damage is done, there is nothing she can do to change it, and you’ve just ruined her night.

The same goes for writing. I have seen people gracefully and willingly rewrite their entire first drafts based on astute and even harsh comments on their work, by their betas. I have never seen someone take down a fic and edit it based on a piece of constructive criticism given by a stranger on AO3. What I have seen based on that scenario, is people taking that criticism to heart and reflecting on whether or not they ever want to write again, because when they made themselves vulnerable, some people looked at it as an opportunity to ask for what would cater best to their own tastes, instead of appreciating the work as a true product of the author’s personal feelings and experiences. That results in less writers for the fandom, less content, and a whole lot of undue discouragement which is not something we want (nor is it actually constructive).

2. You want to engage the author in a deeper discussion of their work.

This is in direct answer to this part of your ask:

It really seems like you are saying “dear readers, your opinion doesn’t matter to me so unless it’s positive I don’t want to hear it because this fanfic was written for me and this list of people.”

You feel passionate (both positively and negatively) about my work? That’s lovely. I say, start a discussion with me. Ask me questions. Learn why I made those decisions. A discussion starts with an invitation to have a conversation (two ways, you say something, I say something, rinse repeat). It doesn’t start with “I didn’t like” or “This could have been better if”, and it certainly doesn’t start in a public forum, like the comments on AO3, where the writer runs the risk of looking like a defensive asshole.

But India, you say, what if I don’t have the means to have a private conversation/the writer doesn’t have tumblr/they’ve long since been inactive in the fandom? The answers are, respectively: leave a polite comment asking if they’re willing to discuss, if they are willing to discuss, leave a polite comment asking how to contact them, and if they’re no longer active, find other friends with which to discuss your feelings in private.

But India, that seems like so much work. It is, flat out. But if you really felt that strongly about something I wrote, you would make that effort to understand it. Otherwise, why not just walk away?

3. You don’t know better.

I found this part of your ask extremely interesting:

“But why making people feel excluded or bad because they did something normal just because they didn’t know it wasn’t written “for them” as you said in your post.”

The reason I found it interesting is because it means that there are people who assume that all work that is public was made for them, to suit their tastes, which is, frankly, a bizarre way to consume art. I do not go into The Louvre, look at the Mona Lisa and say “I don’t see the hype, it’s not something I would hang in my living room.” I look at it and think “What does this piece say about Da Vinci and his life? What has this brought to the world? How has this helped people/art/culture?”

(No, I am in no way comparing my talents to Da Vinci, I am not delusional. But, I don’t think my work deserves any less thought than that of a professional artist, simply because I’m an amateur and it’s on the internet and not in a gallery, and you have the superpower of anonymity.) You asked me what the point was in posting my work publicly if I didn’t want to hear every single person’s personal (negative) take on it, and the answer is this: I post what I write publicly, because I hope it helps someone. I hope my thoughts, feelings, experiences, loneliness validate someone, entertain them, help them through a tough time, bring them comfort. I post because I want to invite people to lose themselves alongside me, heal alongside me, dream alongside me.

(Notice how I said “someone” and not “everyone”. How I said “someone” and not “an élite group that discusses my work”, because yes, I do hope that my work positively impacts someone outside of my betas, my friend group. Does that mean someone can leave negative comments on my work? Yes. But should they? That’s a different question.)

I know my work won’t be a positive experience for every single person, but my goal was never to be relevant to every single person. So, my question is, if I’m not relevant to you personally -- if my work doesn’t touch you personally, heal you personally, entertain you personally, why not just walk away and find something that does? Who does your negative opinion really help? How is it constructive? What is its purpose? Why do you do it?

I will apologize for this, though: I spoke on behalf of all writers, and maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have been clear that though many writers feel this way, not all do. There are some, such as, I assume, yourself, who do view negative comments on AO3 as constructive, whether or not they are solicited, and I’m sorry to have spoken on behalf of you. However, I do still stand by this, though: it is much better to be kind than be right, and that definitely goes for comments on fic.

#concrit #writing thoughts #constructive criticism #iaw ask #iaw anonymous #iaw opinion #long post

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pacific-rimbaud · 4 years ago

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Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Tagging @dreamsofdramione @scullymurphy @feelingofthesea @heyjude19-writing @niffizzle @ms-merlinblack @anneamm @frumpologist @raven-m-3 @ravenslightwrites and anyone else who would like to do this!

(I made a separate post, the other one has grown vry lorge)

Les Pèlerins

Draco x Hermione, Rated M, 10k words complete one-shot

I still cannot believe I was asked to write for D/Hr Advent. Thank you again to anyone who put my name in that hat. 🤯 I had a few ideas for Advent (Mall AU where Draco and Hermione are elves at the North Pole, Bletchley Park codebreakers AU) but really wanted to do an urban walking-and-talking piece just to see if I could write something that was actually readable. I particularly love what you don’t see: a broken Draco sitting in churches contemplating redemption, trying to glue himself back together and discovering his shape has changed, Hermione trying to make life and love work through sheer force of will and then learning to ease her grip, what it looks like for D&H that morning, the rest of the winter, in the spring.

Bright Objects

Pansy x Neville, Rated E, 17.5k words complete multi-chapter

This is less about the piece itself and more about the process of creating it with @grangerdangerfics @scullymurphy and @provocative-envy I am SO proud of what the four of us built as a whole, and our time working on it was one of the very best parts of a really terrible year. 25/10, would die for this crew and also for this soft soft Neville and this vulnerable, relatable bébé Pansy having a watershed WTF moment at the threshold of adulthood.

The Secretary

Pansy x Percy, Rated E, 45.9k complete multi-chapter

This was my second completed short multi-chapter after A Dress with Pockets, and it was a total pleasure to write. I have a lot of feels for these two. I loved this office AU so much I wrote in it again. Also I sometimes think about how smutty this is and want to hide my face, WHAT HAVE I DONE?

Notes on the Temptation of Peter and Heloise

Pansy x Percy, Rated T, 3k complete one-shot

This was exceptionally satisfying to write. I don’t know about anyone else but I loved watching this Pansy Parkinson lose her goddamned mind over this Percy Weasley. The absolute ache of these two. This is tied with Field Guide to North American Dragons for my favorite of the pieces I wrote in Death by Quill 2020. I grew tremendously over that competition and am deeply grateful for that experience.

One and Done

Draco x Hermione, Rated E, 35k complete multi-chapter

I know this is just a small slice of zesty Hermaco cheesecake, but it’s also probably the most Me thing I’ve written. My soul looks like this fic. Gawain Robards: a self-insert. This is my very, very favorite Draco (although he is very much adjacent to Draco from Love and Other Historical Accidents). I LOVE HIM. I love how much he loves her. I LOVE PANSY in this, I love that Pansy “Dislocated Cunt” Parkinson is the woman who loses her shit for Percy “Keep Calm and Carry On” Weasley in this AU, and for all its frivolity and spice, the scene where Pansy narrates Draco’s fantasy is structurally one of the more elegant things I’ve ever written.

Also, I’m not burning down the fandom art world, but I am SO proud of the art that sparked One and Done. I drew this from absolute scratch (this is a very art-nerdy thing to be excited about!) including that lace, and FUNNY STORY: to make it look right I had to draw and shade her bare breasts and then add the lace over her skin as a separate layer, which was a much, much spicier place than I was ever planning to go with fan art.

#Year in Review #2020 #my fic #my art #best of 2020

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judediangelo75 · 4 years ago

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Crushed

Okay, so I mentioned an a random post that I wanted to show the two halves that make, well her.

A painfully timid and skittish side (which mainly developed when she started living with her mother when she came to London. While she can hold her ground against her a bit more, she still fears her mother) and the coldhearted side (which developed at Hogwarts, where all the issues, tragedies and so on harden her).

I was on my Wattpad where I can a collection of Judith and Talbott stories (though there’s not much backstory or structure on there) and this story definitely would show that timid side of her. I tweaked it so it can be better than what I have posted over there.

Just to be clear: This side DOES exist. It’s her most vulnerable side of her. The reason it’s not shown is because Judith doesn’t like showing that side of her. Where she feels like a piece of glass that can break at any second.

She struggles with anxiety. She doesn’t like having too many eyes on her, she feels like people are constantly watching for any mistakes like her mother and exploit it. It gets pretty bad to where she gets anxiety attacks (she usually runs and hides out for awhile until it’s over. Like I said, she doesn’t like showing this side of her, and WILL NOT share this side unless you pry it out of her).

While she doesn’t show it often, she does talk peoples’ words to heart at times. Which doesn’t help her low self esteem.

She does her best to find coping mechanisms to help over the years and does build genuine confidence. But it takes time.

Alright there, you have a back of backstory of that side of her.

Just FYI, this is just to show that side of her (like if her more dominant side; because usually when you push her, that cold side would seep through a bit. You would hardly ever see her skittish)

Okay, I rambled on enough. ON WITH THE STORY!

(Judith Harris)

"There goes Demented Harris," I heard someone whispered to their friend before they broke out into snickers as I walked out of my Transfigurations class. I just kept my head down and walked past them.

Sometimes I think that coming to Hogwarts was a mistake.

Ever since the incident with my brother years ago, everyone suspects that I'll be just like him.

Become hellbent on finding the Cursed Vaults, getting expelled, and disappear. Never to be heard from again.

I have broke a few curses since my second year but I stayed pretty sane. I’m a good student and sought to become a Healer when I graduate. I don’t plan on dropping off of the face of the Earth...

Even though I’m sure nobody would miss me if I did...

I sighed. I would’ve thought some people would at least be a bit grateful for what I’ve done for them, for the school, thus far. But like my mother always said, I’m asking for too much in life.

It’s fine though. If I can't find love and appreciation in people, then I can in magical creatures at least.

"Miss Harris?" I blinked, coming out of my thoughts to look down. Professor Flitwick smiled up at me once he saw he had my attention.

"Good day, Miss Harris," he greeted. I gave a shy smile and nodded, whispering a soft hello.

"If it’s not too much trouble, if you're free, I was wondering if you can assist me in a class for first years. One of my top students already agreed to help, but I would love one of my favorites to join in on the lesson," he said. My smile widen a bit before I nodded once more, following the small man to the Charms classroom.

There were times I wished I joined Ravenclaw. I enjoyed spending time with the ex-Dueling Champion. He was one of the few people who treated me with kindness. He didn’t see me as my brother, but for me.

I loved to help him, when it’s for tutoring, helping for the younger students or even for helping the Frog Choir whenever he needs extra help (he’s disappointed that I didn’t actually join, but settled for this arrangement).

I even spend my birthday, which was also his, with him. Something I haven’t done since Papa died.

I let out a mental sigh. But I wasn’t a Ravenclaw. Which might as well be a blessing, seeing how I have an easier time avoiding him.

"Ah, here we are!" I almost missed Mr. Flitwick's delightful cheer when we entered the classroom. All I could focus on what the feeling of my blood going cold when I saw who was the other teaching assistant.

Talbott Winger...

I quickly ducked my head when he turned to look over in Mr. Flitwick and I's direction. How did that saying go?

Speak of the devil and he shall appear? Whoever said that was on something...

"I hope we didn't keep you waiting, Mr. Winger," Mr. Flitwick said as he hopped up on his tower of books. From the corner of my eye, I saw Talbott give him a small smile.

"Not at all Professor. What will we be helping you teach today," he asked. As Professor Flitwick explained today's lesson, I stood quietly a few feet away from Talbott, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. Flitwick pointed to the basket of feathers and had us place one at each seat. I remained silent as I handled my task from one side of the room.

I developed a crush on Talbott when he helped me become an Animagus. To this day, I don't know why he agreed to help me. Maybe because I have access and knew things that he didn't?

Either way, I couldn't help but to fall for him.

He just seem so handsome to me. From his neat, slicked back hair to his beautiful red eyes.

I appreciate the fine art of sarcasm, which he seems to be a master in (next to me of course). I find him hilarious whenever he’s feeling sassy or playful.

Helping him find his mother's necklace made me realize that there is a beautiful heart and creative mind that he hides under that aloof and unapproachable exterior.

Which made me fall faster.

The smile that spread on his face when he said that we were friends just melted my heart in a helpless puddle of love...

But I wouldn't really go as far we were "buddy-buddy". More like acquaintances, hell I'll be lucky enough to call us that even. I would see him around, maybe give a wave. Half of the time he rarely sees it though, making me look awkward in the process...

I don't know why I try to get his attention. It doesn't matter because I know he doesn't feel the same way about me. I remember his reaction when I confessed to him, clear as day.

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

Flashback

"Rather than erase pre-existing memory, it might be easier for you if you tell Mr. Winger a new piece of information. Something that he didn't know before and won't forget, then use the Memory Charm to erase that memory," Flitwick suggested. I heard Talbott made a noise of agreement. I turned to find him sizing me.

"I'm okay with that. If you're just gonna erase my memory of it, you might as well tell me an interesting secret, Judith," Talbott suggested, a hint of mischief dancing in those red eyes. I bit my lip and shyly glanced at the Ravenclaw boy. Maybe I can confess my feelings and see how he feels about me...

"Th-Then this might be a g-good opportunity to tell y-y-you that... I-I-I fancy you, Talbott..." Flitwick and Talbott looked at me in shock.

"Oh my!" Flitwick gasped. I felt my face burn with embarrassment and shame as Talbott looked anxiously at me.

"Wh-what? Are... are you serious," he exclaimed. I rubbed my arm sheepishly, waiting for him to say more.

"Why? I mean... er..." I felt a bit of dread build in the pit of my stomach. Was he surprised? Or was he uncertain on how to let me down gently?

"Thank you," he finally said, though it came out more like a question. I buried my burning face in my hands.

"This probably wasn't the right time..." Or any time for that matter.

The boy rarely looked in my direction, why would I even think he would express some kind of interest in a witch like me?

"Ahem, perhaps now would be a good time to try casting Obliviate..." I never agreed with Professor Flitwick more. I quickly pulled out my wand, pointing it at Talbott.

For a moment, I could’ve sworn a look of protest in his red eyes, but didn’t want to dwell on it too much.

Talbott was not leaving this room with that memory, not if I can help it.

After casting the spell, Talbott looked lost then a little frustrated, like he was struggling to remember something.

"What do you remember, Talbott," I asked as I withdrew my wand. I needed to know if the spell worked or not so I determine if I should go into hiding for the rest of my time at Hogwarts...

"I remember you choosing to cast Obliviate on me, then... nothing," He replied. I let out a sigh of relief.

"That means Obliviate worked," I cheered. Talbott looked at me suspiciously.

"Now you've gotten me curious. What did you tell me," he asked.

Ha! You're hilarious if you think I'm repeating that situation twice. I'd sooner jump into the Black Lake.

"I'll tell you later," I smirked. By later, I mean never.

Like ever.

He returned the smirk.

"I'm going to hold you to that..." Over my dead body, Winger...

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

Ever since then, only two people know of my crush on Talbott.

Professor Flitwick and Penny.

I'm pretty sure he forgot about that whole situation and I'm more than grateful for it. I wasn't gonna confess again back then and I'm not looking to confess now.

Once the classroom was set up, the first years filed in and took their seats. Professor Flitwick introduced both of us to the class. As Flitwick went over the basics of the lesson, Talbott turned to look at me. I almost jumped out of my skin.

"How are you, Judith," he asked, a small smile tugging on his lips.

"I-I'm o-okay... and yourself," I stuttered. Judith, words! Use them!

"I'm doing good... I must admit, being here together brings back memories," he said. I fidgeted, already knowing what he was implying.

"O-oh," I asked, trying to play dumb. He looked me in my eyes.

"Yeah, where we came to Flitwick to learn the Memory Charm... I'm glad you talked me out of using it on Merula by the way," he admitted, his smile growing. I felt a blush blossom on my cheeks.

Gods, why is he so handsome?

"It's not a problem, Talbott," I said softly, looking down so he wouldn’t see my red face. He hummed before saying,

"You know, you never told me what you said to me when you erased my memory.”.

"Miss Harris, do you think can come and demonstrate the proper stance and help the class correct their stance?" I darted away to help Professor Flitwick. The Gods are looking out for me today.

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

(Talbott Winger)

I frowned when the young Hufflepuff basically ran away from me to help Flitwick.

Judith seems naturally shy, but never have I ever seen her outright run from something. She took on Cursed Vaults, but she runs from a simple question.

Ever since she erased my memory of whatever she told me, the situation would pass through my mind from time to time. I just wasn't sure how to approach the topic with her. Today seem like the perfect opportunity to broach the topic with the cute Hufflepuff.

Yes, I said cute. Because she is.

I admit I didn't like how she was so pressed to help me in the beginning but I slowly grew fond of the girl.

Plus, she was very beautiful.

Ever since I hit my growth spurt, I towered over the Hufflepuff by at least a good 5 to 6 inches. She was a bit on the short side, but where I was standing, she seems small and it was adorable.

Her sweet face was one of my favorite things to look at. Despite her shyness, her facial expressions usually spoke for her sometimes. The way her nose would scrunch up in distaste when she heard something unpleasant or she didn't like. The way her brow would crease in concentration when she's in class or studying. The way she would hide her flushed cheek behind her hand when she's embarrassed. The way her eyes would speak for her when she can't formulate words...

I normally wouldn't pay much attention to the opposite sex as far as physical appearance but I must admit, there was a time or so where I wondered what she looked like in more form fitting clothes, instead of her House robes or her trusted yellow hoodie.

Her shyness made her all more endearing.

The way her gold eyes would widen slightly when someone focuses their attention on her. The way her sweet voice would sometimes stutter when she tries to talk. Sometimes hitting a higher octave when she feels insulted. How she would bring the bottom half of her hoodie to cover her face when she's blushing. How she fiddles with her dark brown hair when she's nervous.

She was cavity-inducing...

"Mr. Winger, can you come up with Miss Harris to cast today's spell?" I heard Professor Flitwick call.

I smiled as I walked up to stand beside the suddenly flustered Hufflepuff. Together we were able to levitate our own feathers, flying them across the room. I peeked over at Judith, seeing a beautiful smile spread on her face. My heart fluttered at the sight.

Such a shy and quiet beauty.

"Excellent, just excellent," Flitwick praised. Judith looked down, shuffling her feet. We soon went on the opposite sides of the room to help any students with the spell. I stole some glances at her, finding her smiling and laughing with the first years, applauding them when they successfully cast the spell.

She looked so happy...

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

Once class was over and we finished cleaning the classroom, Judith was already gone before I could question her again. I softly cursed beneath my breath.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Winger," Professor Flitwick asked. I perked up a bit. Maybe he knows, he was there after all...

"I was wondering if you could help me with something... about Judith," I said softly. He nodded.

"Do you remember what Judith told me the day you taught us the Memory Charm?" He looked surprised and mused over what I said.

"So I'm assuming Miss Harris never told you what she said that day," he said. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Winger, but it is simply not my place to tell you," he sighed. I rubbed a hand over my face, suddenly tired. Will I ever know what that girl said?

"May I ask you something, Mr. Winger?" I looked up the the short man.

"Is it possible you fancy the girl? I've noticed how you looked at her during class," he asked. I felt a blush working its way up to my neck.

Am I obvious?

"Of course not, Mr. Winger. But you are in my house, I take the time to learn my students throughout the years," Flitwick chuckled. I glared at the man's teasing.

"Yes... I started to grow fond of her and she is rather endearing," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. The professor smiled at me.

"Although I can't tell you what she said, I'm sure you can get your answer if you spend some more time with the girl," he offered. I frowned.

"But I rarely see her around, except for class and in passing," I said. The girl was extremely scarce, despite having her own friends. Flitwick looked thoughtful for a few moments before saying,

"Why not ask Hagrid for her whereabouts? I know she spends a decent amount of time with the man." Not a bad idea...

"I'll go do that now, thank you Professor and enjoy the rest of your day," I smiled, walking out.

Time to catch me a little Hufflepuff.

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

"Hello, Hagrid," I said, approaching the giant man. Hagrid turned to me with a big smile.

"Hello there, Talbott! What can I do fer ya?" Fang barked and ran up to me. I chuckled and bent down to pet the dog.

"I was hoping if you could help me find someone," I said as I rubbed Fang's belly. The man laughed cheerfully.

"Why of course, m' boy! Who are you lookin' fer?," he asked.

"Judith, have you seen her," I asked, silently praying he'll agree to help. Hagrid looked taken aback at my request.

"I- er..." I rose a brow at him.

"I don't know Talbott... Judith made me promise not to tell anyone where she goes when she has free time," he said, looking a bit sad.

Here I thought I preferred being alone, but clearly she has me beat...

"Why is it that she wants to be alone so much," I asked. I was a bit upset that I couldn't find the girl as easily as I would like.

"There are some cruel kids in this ‘ere school, Talbott. The girl has a lot more weight on her shoulders than anybody realizes," Hagrid sighed. I frowned.

"What does that mean," I asked.

"Pay close attention to what people say when she's around," Hagrid simply said.

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

Taking the man's advice, I watched the girl as closely as possible the next few weeks. I must admit, it hurt me seeing the girl being pushed around.

Demented Harris.

Jinxed Judith.

Jamal #2.

The shoves.

The laughs.

The public humiliation.

Those hurt gold eyes, shimmering with unshed tears.

No wonder she's so quiet and hardly around. Any form of attention brought to her is negative.

I miss seeing her smile...

Today I planned on confronting her, hopefully to provide some comfort.

In my Animagus form, I silently followed the girl as she walked out of the castle in the direction of the Magical Creature Reserve. Perching myself in a tree nearby, I watched as she walked in a grassy field, carrying a bag of creature feed.

As she approached a Niffler, Knarl, Porlock, Diricrawl, and Abraxan all perked up at the sight of her.

"Feeding time, my loves," she called, her voice sweet and full of affection. The creatures all bounded towards her. Her Niffler, bounded up her legs, torso to rest on her shoulders. The Knarl rolled around her feet before bumping into her left foot. The Porlock trotted up to nuzzle her right calf, it's tail waging. Her Diricrawl nuzzled her left leg, flapping its small wings. The Abraxan trotted around her, nuzzling her hair.

The girl was giggling at her creatures’ enthusiasm.

"One at a time, everyone. You will all get your turn," she said. She looked so cute, surrounded by all these creatures.

Once she fed them all, she and them all walked around the field and to my hiding place. The Abraxan looked directly at me and huffed. It turned and used its hide legs to kick the tree. I let out a surprised squawk and flew out before I could fall.

"Angel! What's gotten into you, it's just an eagle," Judith cried, running up to the winged horse to soothe it. I landed a few feet away and her Porlock stared at me warily.

Can her creatures tell I'm not really just an eagle? The Porlock went up to me, sniffing me before letting out a soft huff of distrust.

Yeah, they can...

Giving up the act, I transformed back into my human form. The Porlock let out a small startled cry and ran to Judith, hugging her leg.

"What's wrong, Baron-" Judith froze when she saw me standing there. I let out a bashful smile.

"Talbott! Wh-what are y-you..." she trailed off, looking down. I slowly walked towards her, doing my best not frighten her.

"I just wanted to see you, Judith," I said softly.

"Why," she asked firmly, turning to face me. I took in her full appearance and blushed a bit.

She was wearing a floor length sundress, white on the top that gradients to a soft shade of yellow. It was form fitting, hugging her curves perfectly. Her full chest, small waist, her abs, her slowly rounding hips.

Her hair was in twists. Most of it was pulled back in a low ponytail while the rest formed her bang that occasionally sweep over her right eye.

Her face was free of makeup, save a gloss over her plump lips. Her skin was basically glowing...

I swallowed thickly.

She was...uh... rather developed for someone was just 16.

Oh boy...

"I want to spend some time with you," I said, reminding myself to breathe. Her pretty gold eyes widen and she shifted uncomfortably on each foot.

"S-spend time with m-me," she repeated, sounding lost. I nodded, getting closer. We were only less than a foot apart now and I could smell her perfume. I tried my best to keep my breathing even, even though I was to take in more of that pleasant smell.

I held out my hand. She looked down, extremely confused.

"We could start with a walk around the Creature Reserve... if you'd like," I suggested, silently hoping that she'll say yes.

A few moments past and I could feel my nerves starting to take over. Before I could pull back, Judith laid her small hand in mine, stepping close.

"Okay... but we're visiting the rest of my creatures in the meanwhile," she said, staring at my chest. Slowly, I grasped her chin to tilt upwards so she can meet my eyes.

She had one of prettiest eye colors I've seen, I could get lost in them all day...

"Of course, anything for you," I said with a smile. Her eyes went wide and she abruptly buried her face in my chest. I felt my heart stutter at her unexpected closeness but didn't push her away.

Gods, she was so cute...

"C'mon, what other creatures do you have," I chuckled, gently nudging her from her hiding place. She flustered at our proximity to one another and simply held my hand, leading me to other parts of the reserve.

The entire time, I couldn’t help but to notice the feeling of her hand in mine.

Her hand had a few callouses on her fingertips and a bit on her palm, assuming from all the writing and physical work that she does. But her hand felt soft overall.

To me, it shows how strong she is, all while still having a gentle touch.

Perfectly her...

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

I made some decent progress with Judith the next few weeks.

She was able to open up to me and allow me to help her take care of the creatures she adopted. It was nice to see her laugh and smile around me.

There was moments of slight awkwardness, like some of her creatures pushing us closer together. The bigger creatures were especially known for this. One time, Griffin, her Hippogriff, purposefully picked up the girl and set her on his back, as if going on flight. He never gave her adequate time to properly hold on, so when he took off, she would fall over and I have to race to catch her. I always found myself holding her protectively against my chest, our faces just an inch or two apart.

More than once, I've been tempted to kiss her.

But I simply set her down while she shyly thanked me and scurried off.

We were sitting side by side each other, under the shade of a large tree. Another sundress hugged her frame, this time white and royal blue. Her Porlock, Baron, was cuddling up against her as she scratched behind his ears.

"Hey Judith," I called out softly. Her pretty gold eyes shyly glanced at me.

"Yes," she answered. Taking a deep breath, I brought up the question,

"Why wouldn't you tell me what happened in Charms class that day?" she stiffen a bit and Baron let out a soft huff of worry. I reached out for her hand, intertwining our fingers.

"Please don't shut me out, Judith. I just simply want to know," I said softly. I watched as she gave the young Porlock a final scratch behind his ears before sending him off.

“I-I... I’m scared to see your reaction again,” she quietly admitted. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, we’re a bit older and mature now. I’m sure I can handle it better this time,” I told her. She peeked at me from her short curly lashes before looking away.

She mumbled something under her breath.

"What was that," I asked, scooting over closer. The sweet smell of coconuts and cocoa butter greeted my senses, and I wanted to close my eyes in bliss.

"I...Talbott," she said a bit louder. Growing bold, I gently grasp her chin to look so she can face me.

"One more time for me, Judith..." Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let out a soft whimper.

"I fancy you, Talbott," she quietly sobbed, trying to pull away from me. I froze. Judith likes me...?

She feels the same way.

My lack of response made things worse as her eyes grew wide and frantic.

"I-I-I'm sorry! I di-didn't- you-you don't ha-have to-" her ramblings with a soft gasp. I pulled the girl into my lap, hugging her.

Judith went still, her nerves undoubtedly getting the best of her.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, little bird... I fancy you too," I whispered into her hair. She shyly met my eyes, hope shining brightly in those gold orbs.

"Y-Y-You do," she asked, trying to blink away any tears in her eyes. I gently wiped her tears away from my thumbs, she let out a soft breath at my touch.

"I do, Judith. And I want to prove it to you. Everyday... While at Hogwarts and beyond," I said softly. Feeling bold, I peppered kisses all over her face. Her eyes fluttered closed as I did this, her breathing slowly evening out. When I pulled back a little, she clenched at my robes with a whimper, pressing herself against me.

"T-Talbott, I-I-I..." Her expression was uncertain and fearful. I noticed how her gaze would land on my lips before darting back up to meet my gaze.

Rubbing her back, I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers.

She readjusted herself so she would be straddling my lap, her lips still moving shyly against mine. I groaned a little and squeezed her a bit closer. My hands followed the outline of her waist and hips, memorizing it. One of her hands was clenching at my robes and the other fisted in my hair. I groaned throatily. Gods, she's so perfect...

I pulled away, kissing the tip of her nose.

"You're so beautiful and perfect, darling," I cooed, nuzzling her cheek. I could partially feel the temperature rise and chuckled.

"And adorable," I added, pecking her lips. She pouted at me when I pulled away. I chuckled again.

"Don't give me that cute sad face," I told her. She grumbled but snugged against my chest. I sighed and ran my fingers through her hair.

"Talbott..." I hummed, letting her know I was listening.

"I like you," she said, kissing my cheek. I smiled and squeezed her tight.

"I like you too..."

#hphm #hphm mc #hphm talbott #hphm talbott winger #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #judith harris #hogwarts mystery talbott #talbott x mc #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott winger #talbott winger x jacob's sibling #talbott winger x mc #jacob's sibling #jacob's sister #hufflepuff!mc #hufflepuff x ravenclaw #fluff

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j0hn-deacons-perm · 4 years ago

Text

Charcoal Dust

Female reader x Brian May

Word Count ~6,100.

I had this fic sitting in my documents since August and re-reading it, I didn’t hate it. So I guess I’m posting it. A bit of a warning I suppose...it goes get slightly suggestive but not 18+..If you’re sensative to that sort of thing, maybe skip this one my dudes.

With the last flick of your eyeliner, you deem yourself ready to head out to the bar. Freddie wanted to let off some steam with finals and you couldn't help but to join in. The apartment you two share have been littered with projects and materials and he almost strangled you for not cleaning up your charcoal dust. With that being the straw which broke the camel's back, tonight is to just get shit faced and to have fun. At least Fred settled one a bar that isn't too much of a walk so you don't have to worry about driving. Grabbing your coat, you leave the complex and into the cold december night.

***

"Y/N, dearie, you're here! Finally the night can commence!"

Freddie runs to you and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"The boys are here as well. Can't tell you how much work it took to get John out."

Your eyes settle on Deaky, already a bit drunk and waving at you with a grin. "Evenin' Y/N! How's it going?"

"Not as good as you from the looks of it. But I bet a couple drinks could fix that."

You turn to the bar and order your usual mix drink along with a round of shots for everyone.

"Here's to having a good night amongst friends!"

"Cheers!"

Everyone downs their shot and you finally sit down, taking the empty spot next to Deaky. Roger and Brian seem to be in their own little world talking about something so you don't bother with that can of worms yet.

"Y/N, did you find a new model for your drawing yet?"

"Nope. That fucking Steven kid answered my ad, took my payment then just vanished. Won't answer the phone, haven't seen him around campus..I'm out like 80 quid and nothing to draw for my final."

"Ouch. What does it entail exactly?"

"I need to do a live nude model study."

Roger's ears seem to perk up with the mention of 'nude'.

"I can help you out with that, love."

Brian rolls his eyes and Freddie chuckles.

"So, me buying you a shot doesn't get your attention but mentioning I need to draw a naked person does?"

"Well, yeah. You should know this by now."

"I thought alcohol and nudity were on the same tier of importance to you, Taylor."

"Close..but not quite."

You nod at him with a fake academic-like expression as you rub your chin.

"Right, so if anyone knows someone who would be down to model for me let me know."

"I just said I was!"

"Anyone but Roger."

"Oh! What about Brian, dear? He'd be a great model."

The man in question glares.

"Uh..Fred, I don't think so."

"Why ever the fuck not? I've seen you naked before, May. You'd be fantastic. Plus Y/N gets to see your cute little bottom and huge cock!"

His cheeks turn bright red.

"Absolutely not, Fred."

Freddie looks over to your face, laughing despite blushing profusely. He knows of your small crush on the guitarist and loves to relish in opportunities making you and Brian uncomfortable in hopes you two would actually do something. Much to his, and your disappointment, nothing ever happens.

"Well I would do it but I don't have the time in my schedule considering I'm going to be stuck in the art building working on my own shit. Now come on, don't subject her to Roger."

Brian looks over to you, finding you playing with a hem on your shirt, trying to distract yourself from the awkward conversation.

"Well we both know Bri's not going to do it, so when can I come over, love?"

With a slump of your shoulders, you face the blonde.

"It's not a sexual thing where I draw everything, you know. You're going to be in a pose you can hold for a long period of time while I focus on drawing mainly your prominent body landmarks like ribs, pelvis, and muscles along with bones."

"See, Bri? It's not a personal experience, she's just studying your anatomy. With how lanky you are, it'd be easy to see everything."

"I'll also pay you for your time. Might be a bit before I can get the money but you will be compensated. Also if it's too much for you, you can wear your underwear for most of it until I need to get a certain part."

He looks between you and Freddie, a sigh escapes his lips.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Freddie smirks at you and gives a wink before coming into to whisper in your ear.

"Just a heads up, I've seen him naked and you may have to draw three legs."

You turn bright red but can't help but to cackle at his comment. Brian rolls his eyes and says 'fucker' under his breath.

*** A couple drinks turn to quite a few and talking with Brian ended up with the date, time and place for your drawing session. Now that three days have passed, the time arrives along with four knocks on the door.

"Hey Y/N."

"Hey Bri, thank you so much again for doing this for me."

He looks around the living room and sees you've set up your workspace: an easel, one of the living room chairs and one of the end tables with your box of drawing utensils. He also looks at how it's pointed towards the sofa with a sheet draped on it.

"How would you like me?"

"Comfortable. You'd probably be stuck in that spot for a while. I have pillows if you want 'em."

He nods and sits down on the sofa while you go towards the record player and pop on one of your favorite records.

"I like to work to music so hope you're okay listening to the Beatles for a few hours."

"Why would I complain about good music?"

You chuckle as you sit down in your spot, making any last minute adjustments to the easel's height. Turning your head to the sofa, you see him unbuckling his belt before slipping his shirt off. Back towards you.

Freddie was right, he has a good figure to make this assignment easy for you. Despite trying to stay professional, it's hard to not check out your crush as he strips. When the pants start slipping off, you turn away, too shy to look anymore.

He is your friend, Y/N...he is your friend who is helping you with a project. Don't make this weird..

But then you remember your roll of tape for the sheet so when it's break time, you won't lose the pose.

Shit...

"Hey Bri, once you settle on a pose, would it be okay if I put some tape around you so we don't lose the pose after we take a break?"

"Yeah, that's okay. I also might take you up on that pillow offer."

"Sounds good, I'll be right back."

You smile as you get up and leave for your bedroom to grab him a couple pillows off your bed. When you walk back into the living room, you swear the air has shifted once you see him laying in his underwear on the couch, watching the record spin on the turn table. A knot forms in your stomach..

You're working on your final, you're working on your final, you're working on your final.....

You walk up towards him and hands him the pillows. He promptly adjusts them to fit his pose.

"This alright for your composition, Y/N?"

"Let me check."

You sit down back in your chair and look at what you can see. You can see many of the body's landmarks..ribs, collar bones, muscles, parts of the pelvis...but not the strongest for a good composition.

"The pose is fine but I'm going to move over a bit to get a more interesting angle of ya."

You scoot your set up closer towards the turntable, giving a more dynamic angle of your model.

"Alright, we're looking good. Just need to tape where you're at and we can get started."

Hands slightly shaking on the masking tape roll, you rip pieces off and place them where Brian's posed. It's easy to tell he's tense.

"Bri, you're welcome to chat during this if you want. And whenever you want to take a break to stretch out, do not hesitate to ask."

"Sounds good, love. I guess I'm ready when you are."

He's called you love before but now it seems a bit different...

HE IS JUST HELPING YOU ON YOUR FINAL PROJECT, STOP IT

You rub over your paper pad, sighing and grab your hard charcoal to get the initial lines and shapes in. You can see him closing his eyes once more marks land on your paper. His shoulders also slowly begin to become less tense.

*** Two full albums later, Brian calls break time. You clean your hands off on your pants and set your charcoal back in its box next to you. Having the main structures done and angles correct, you feel good about the progress.

"How's it coming along, love?"

"I think maybe another hour or so and we'll be good."

"Can I sneak a look or is it confidential?"

You nod your head for him to take a look, his presence now behind your back as he analyzes your work. Nerves become more apparent the longer he's silent. You're about to look over your shoulder until you hear him say

"I'm really liking it so far, Y/N. Fred's told us about your work and it's incredibly articulate. However it is odd knowing that's me on your paper."

You blush profusely at his compliment, even more so now that you realize he's extremely close to your body wearing just underwear.

"Well how about I grab you a robe and I'll make us some coffee?"

"Sounds lovely to me, especially since seeing how you're fully clothed, I'm a bit vulnerable."

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable! Let's get that robe."

"I'm not uncomfortable, just a bit cold maybe."

Leaving for your room once again, you grab your robe. It might be a bit too short for the gentle giant in your living room but it's better than nothing.

"I'm surprised you didn't give me Fred's."

"You don't want it, trust me."

He laughs, tying the belt around his middle and follows you into the small kitchen to grab his favorite mug whenever he visits. The silence grows more comfortable as you hear the coffee drip into the small pot and another cabinet opens to grab the sugar. You open the fridge to grab the milk. Your pour the hot liquid as he adds the sugar to the two mugs, followed by the splash of milk you like in yours. Smiles meet each other and you two sit back in the living room, a new record begging to be played.

"Want more Beatles or how about just some John? I have Plastic Ono Band and Imagine."

"Oh god, that's a decision isn't it?"

"It really is. I'm half tempted to just put Hard Day's Night on."

"Did you see that in theaters? The girls went absolutely mad."

"With that scene with John in the bath? I'm sure I still have hearing issues from that. It got even worse seeing Help."

"George bit?"

"George bit."

Laughs echoed amongst the walls, sharing knowing glances at how loud the shrieking was.

"Have to love sort of shared traumatic experiences. But I'm intrigued, who is your favorite of the four?"

"The Beatles or Queen?"

A slight smirk dances across his lips.

"Beatles? When I was younger, Paul. In more recent years, has to be John. I really respect his political work and his solo albums are so personal and raw."

He nods at your answer, agreeing.

"But with you lot? No one. Don't tell Freddie that, he'll plant something in my bed."

He answers in a hearty laugh.

'It's not like I can say you before we get back to working on a naked drawing of you...'

*** With Lennon playing on the speakers and more charcoal on paper, you're back at it again. Brian somehow managed to get himself back into the same pose with one or two directions from you. Things are now going easier considering the drawing is now just filling in the blanks until you couldn't get one detail right due to it being covered by his underwear. The more you try to remember how the muscles and bone look, the more incorrect it looks to your eyes. The inevitable needs to happen.

"Hey Brian, I'm hating to ask this but uh...I can't get the lower abs to look right with the pelvis. Could you....takeyourunderwearoff."

The last part just rushed past your lips as fast as you could. Your cheeks are bright red, a tell tale sign being how hot your face just became. It's even worse when he arches his brow.

"What was that last part?"

You sigh deeply.

"Could you...take your underwear off so I can get your pelvis a bit better?"

"Oh...uh, yeah."

His cheeks probably match yours but you cover your eyes while he strips the last bit of cloth standing between him being completely exposed in front of you.

"Alright Y/N, you can look now."

His nervous laughter is puntuated with your eyes opening again. While you have a clearer view of the muscles in question, you also have a clearer view of other things.

You now understand why it's called a happy trail.

Correcting his angles once again, you start where you just left off. Only to have the record stop playing, meaning you had to stand up and change the music. Meaning probably a clear view of his, what Freddie called, 'his third leg'. Hands slightly shakey as they remove the vinyl and put it back in its respective sleeve. Fingers lead their way towards Revolver, your go-to homework album. Once the intro of Taxman plays, you make your way back to your seat. During which, your peripheral vision does you dirty.

Fred wasn't entirely kidding. Dear god, Y/N, you're almost done just finish your damn project so Bri can go home and you can take a cold shower...

You sit back down and sigh, taking your charcoal and getting back to work, correcting any inaccuracies caused by his underwear being in the way and adding more to his figure. Side one is over far too soon, causing you to get up and be betrayed by your eyes once again.

At least now it's just adding a bit of definition to the head and small details. Taking the blunt end of your charcoal stick, you begin adding some hair to the drawing. The couple hairs on his chest, a gesture of pubic hair and some messy lines for the curls on top of his head. Staring at his face now, he peeks his eyes open and winks at you then smiles.

"I thought you weren't going to draw my face?"

"Just a little something so it's not just a blank shape."

"Alright. Do you want my eyes open or closed?"

"Do what you want, Bri."

His eyes land on the legs of your easel, moving them around a bit to follow the smudges of paint and charcoal about. Your eyes trace along the angles of his face, adding them to the basic head shape you added during the beginning steps. Browbone, cheeks, nose, eyes, brows, and gesture of his slightly open mouth put down on paper as you mark it done. Looking at the lower right corner of your paper and taking your thin marker, you write your name, class session, semester, and model's first name.

"Alright Bri, I think we're good to go. Want to come take a look?"

Standing up and putting your robe back on, he walks behind the chair. His eyes take in the final composition, from the pillows to his curls all the way down to how to managed to get the angle right on his feet. The sofa, while made of basic abstract shapes, make him look like he's properly weighed out on the cushions.

"It's weird seeing me like that."

"I bet. Talking with some of the models outside of class, they tell me it takes some getting used to seeing shit like this."

"Seeing what others see in your naked body is very...daunting. I think you made me look too good to be honest."

"I just drew what I saw, May."

You look up behind you and catch him blushing, looking down at you while smiling.

"You are incredibly talented, Y/N. If you don't get an A, I'm taking personal offense with your instructor."

You blush hard at the compliment while laughing at his comment.

"Honestly, I would too. You made a beautiful model, Bri. It was an honor to draw you."

Why did I just say that?..

He looks away, face looking shy. He takes compliments almost as bad as you. He sits down back on the sofa, looking at you.

"Now, you did say at the bar that I'd be compensated for my time."

"That I did."

You start to pack away your drawing supplies before digging a can of hairspray out of your backpack. Spraying a light coat over your drawing, you let it dry before packing it away for safe keeping.

His eyes watch you dismantle your workspace, showing him something you've done nearly a hundred times over. Little did you know, seeing you in your element like this made his heart swell. Brian knew you were an art student but never saw you at work. Little did he know, yours did the same when you saw him at practice or on stage. After cleaning up and putting furniture back in their right spots, you sit down in the chair to only find Brian patting the cushion next to him. Giving him a fake glare, you sit next to him.

"I've been thinking of payment and would it just be fine if we ordered some take away and hung out? I'd feel bad taking your money."

"You sure? I'd feel bad not compensating you for your time."

"Y/N, I laid on your couch, chatted with you and listened to my favorite music. Yeah it was a bit weird considering I take a girl out before she sees me naked but hey."

You laugh nervously at his joke, blushing for probably the 53rd time that night.

"I'll get dressed and we'll head out, that good for you?"

"Yeah. I need to change clothes anyway."

"Why? You look cute covered in charcoal."

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest like a looney toons character. You and the guys are used to calling eachother cute or handsome but something about him being just about naked underneath your robe after drawing him for nearly two hours makes your heart race at a dangerous pace.

"Let's get ready, hmm?"

He stands up, clothes in tow as he walks to the bathroom. The sound of the door closing brings you back to the moment. Grabbing your pillows and sheet off the couch, you leave for your room. The slight smell of him lingering on the fabric fills your nostrils as you throw it towards your laundry basket.

"Goddammit...don't get your hopes up. It's not like this is a date, Y/N..." You whisper under your breath.

Grabbing the clothes you wore earlier today, you get dressed and apply a little extra deodarant and perfume. By the time you've put your shoes on and out of your room, he's slipping his shoes on. Even in mid-December, he's wearing his clogs. He hears your laughter from across the room.

"What's so funny?"

"Bri, it's Christmas in nearly two weeks and you're wearing clogs? If you slip on ice thanks to those things, I’m not helping you up."

"It hasn’t snowed yet, though! Have to wear them while there's still time. Besides, look who's bloody talking wearing canvas sneakers in the cold."

"At least my entire foot is in the shoe."

"That's it, I'm not letting you borrow my scarf if it's still windy. Not with that attitude."

You smack his arm and grab your purse off the coat rack. Locking the door behind you is the last thing before you two leave for any place that is still serving food at this hour.

***

Only getting as far as a corner store, you two buy a couple drinks then enough snacks to constitute a meal. The walk back to the apartment was on the quiet side, Brian looking up to the sky every few blocks in a vain attempt to see any stars that would accompany the moon shining that night. Not much for viewing besides the waxing moon hanging above your heads, hundreds of thousands miles away.

"Hey Bri?"

His features seem almost guilty, being caught in the act but he smiles at you.

"Would it be possible for you to teach me some things about what's up there? Fred's showed me some astrology stuff but it would be kinda cool seeing the constellations and what makes them, y'know?"

"I'd just talk your ear off."

"Can't be too bad, I deal with that already."

You wink as he rolls his eyes.

"But I'm serious, I want to know a little bit about what you study in uni. Especially since we go to different schools, it'd be interesting seeing another side of academics that isn't just color theory or how to mathematically draw cylinders."

"How do you mathematically draw cylinders?"

"It's all about angles and where it sits in space, mostly. Getting that perspective correct. After enough practice I guess you can just sort of see it rather than drawing out all these different grids and lines."

"Does that tie in with drawing people?...That's probably a stupid question of course it does."

"It does but with that, you also need to keep in mind where things in the body are. In our class we also have to do these...sculpting lessons. We're given half a skeleton on a stand and we sculpt the muscles using clay."

He nods, listening to you talk about your coursework and your subject matters from basics to more focused studies. Once back to your apartment, you find Freddie has returned from the art building. The noises of you and Brian taking off shoes and coats made him pop his head around the wall.

"Y/N, lovie, how did your drawing session go?"

"Rather well! Want to see it?"

"Well of course, dear!"

You grab your and Brian's bags from the corner store and place it on the kitchen counter before heading over to your drawing pad, propped up against your chair. Nerves arise as you watch his eyes gaze over your work, the smell of the hairspray you used seal in the charcoal floating to your nostrils.

"Fucking hell, this is brilliant. If you get a bad mark I'm visiting your professor during office hours and giving them a piece of my mind."

He looks down Brian's legs on the paper, your careful contour lines elegantly outlining the muscles.

"I think you forgot a leg, though."

Brian's rolls his eyes as Fred's cackle fills the room. You slap the sketchpad closed and return it to it's spot next to your school bag. A sympathetic look is aimed towards your model.

"Come on you two, lighten up. How about a game of Scrabble, hmm?"

"It is getting a little late, Fred, and Brian has to get back to his place."

"He knows he's welcome to crash on the couch if he wants."

The man in question looks between you two, biting his lip in thought.

"I wouldn't mind crashing here tonight. I'm sure Roger wouldn't mind the flat to himself."

"Then it's settled. You old ladies get your food out of the kitchen and we start this game."

What wasn't expected was Brian winning with such a lead. You could've sworn you've seen Fred's eyes glow red as he told the curly haired man to get out of his home for disrepecting him that severely. He went to bed infuriated as he left you two out in the living room to watch TV.

"You sure you want to spend the rest of your Friday night here?"

"It's technically Saturday morning now."

"Smart ass."

He smiles and slowly leans towards you on the sofa, his warmth sneaking up the arm closest to him.

"Hey Bri?"

He hums in response, eyes not leaving the program painting the screen.

"I never really properly thanked you for helping me with my assignment. You honestly saved my grade modeling for me."

He turns his head to face you, eyes looking at yours illuminated by the screen's light.

"You're more than welcome, love. It was interesting watching you work. You have this little face you make when you're really concentrated."

"Where I don't blink and my mouth is partially open? That's my focusing amphibian look."

He chuckles.

"Roger does the same thing but that's his confused look."

"I thought his confused face was this.."

You imitate the face you've seen many times during your homework sessions with the boys. Also when he tries to understand what Fred wants to do add extra flair to shows or songs.

"No, you're right. That's the one." He laughs.

Comfortable silence floats around the air as you two continue watching telly. Thirty meants turn into 90 as the episodes of various shows play before you. Slight comments here and there said but it wasn't until Brian laid his head on top of your head that something was really spoken.

"I have a question."

"Care to share with the class, May?"

You can feel his cheeks stretch out with a slight smile.

"Would you think less of me if I put my studies on hold when, or even if the band gets bigger? I know we only have one album out at the minute but I've thought about it and..."

Patting his knee, you spoke.

"I could never think less of you for persuing something like that. You and the guys have worked your asses off and if, no, when your hardwork pays off, grab those opportunities. You earned any success that comes your way."

He moves his head to look directly into your eyes.

"Knowing you, you'll eventually get your PhD but sometimes life throws you a curveball and you have to just roll with what it gives you. If it's Queen, then see it through."

Surprise washes over you as he gives you a hug, enveloping you in his arms tightly as his face creates a home in the crook of your neck. This breath along your skin giving away to goosebumps.

"I've been thinking about this for weeks and um...."

"Did you already drop out, Bri?"

"No, no..."

"Uh huh..." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Seriously, Y/N, I haven't dropped out of uni. I've been thinking about...."

You pull away and look at his eyes directly, cheeks flushed even in the low light of the living room.

"What is it?"

He sighs, looking down at his lap.

"You."

Eyes going wide, you look at anything but him. The stray floaty in the air, the reflection of light as a car drives past your flat, the one stray strand of yarn or whatever it is sticking out of the rug on the floor.

"I'm not saying this because you drew me naked and I'm feeling obligated to but tonight made me realize something."

Your eyes finally focusing on your hands, fingernails picking at cuticles.

"If this does become something larger than life, I don't want to leave you behind. When Freddie introduced us to you last year, there was something about you I couldn't shake off. I wasn't sure what it was the chalk pastel dust you were covered in or something else."

You smile at his words but your heart doesn't lighten up the speed at the rate it's beating. When it comes loose, it's going to skyrocket across the English channel.

"But now actually getting to know you over time and tonight made me come to the conclusion that....I certainly have feelings for you and I don't know what you want to do with that information."

Your fingers stop picking at a loose bit of skin on the side of your nail and you swear your heart just stopped in your chest. Eyes wide, you stare at him. Mouth agape, not knowing what to say other than just "Bri..."

"I can see I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. Maybe I should head ho-"

As he begins to stand up, you grab his wrist and pull him right back down towards your side.

"Meeting you was one of the most profound days in my life, Bri. You...fuck,...I'm not a wordsmith and I'm nervous as all hell right now."

He smiles ever so slightly but his leg bounces with such vigor you wouldn't be surprised if your downstairs neighbor complained to the landlord tomorrow.

"And now hearing you may have feelings for me? Like...how do I even process this when it's something I've been wanting to hear for almost a year?"

It's now his turn for his eyes to buldge open in shock.

"When you first talked to me about astrophysics and I saw your entire demeanor light up with such passion, my heart damn near stopped. I couldn't focus on anything else but you. Even when you're just relaxed I feel like that. You're breathtaking and I'm pretty sure I went comotose and had a lucid dream seeing you perform with the boys for the first time."

He smiles, eyes looking directly into yours as your mouth just vomits out any word you promised to never let out.

"I've fallen for you so hard. I love your smile and laugh. I love the slope of your nose. I love that you've let your hair be curly because let's be real, you looked real questionable when you straightened it."

He laughs and you can tell his cheeks are heating up.

"I love that little noise you make when you find something interesting in your textbooks and your hums when you're thinking of a new song and your little eyerolls at the boys when they're being dumbasses and your sense of humor and just......fuck, look at you! You're so fucking handsome and that's even with the clogs!"

He grabs your hands, rubbing his thumbs against the knuckles. His smile shining so bright even with the low light from the television that's now taken a backside seat of your conversation. He looks down at your entertwined hands.

"Calling you a friend and wanting to see you has gotten me out of bed so many days Y/N, I've lost count. I can't even imagine if you'd be more than a friend to me but I guess we can find out."

Your smile has extended to lengths you didn't know possible. Letting go of his hands, you wrap your arms around him instead.

"I forgot to say this, but I also love your hugs."

A chuckle escapes his chest and he holds you tighter, a kiss lands on your cheek. Time goes by as shows flash before your eyes, eventually leading to you falling asleep in his arms with him not too far behind.

*** Hours pass before you awake, head laying on his lap and knees tucked in. Sitting up, you find him using the arm rest as his pillow, arms crossed underneath his face. He looks so peaceful and you don't want to take him up but you want to sleep in your bed.

Dare you ask if he wants to join you?

It'll just be us sleeping together in the same bed and maybe cuddles...?

You brush his curls away from his face, tucking what you can behind his ear as you shake him gently.

"Hey Brian..?"

He doesn't stir, contemplating on just his carrying his lanky ass to your room.

"Bri.. wake up, hon. Come on."

You continue rubbing his upper arm until he stirs awake, opening his eyes and squinting at the screen's light.

"...What time is it?"

"Late. Would you want to sleep on the couch or my bed?"

"I'm fine out here, I don't want to take your bed from you."

You smile and chuckly slightly.

"I mean share the bed with me."

He smiles at the idea but eyes are shy.

"I'd like that."

You two stand up, him shutting up the TV and you leading the way to your room with his hand in yours. Navigating the small hallway at night lead to him bumping into you twice, and him saying apologies but you could not care less.

Once in your room and switching on the light, he's greeted to your own personal space. He can see canvases with studio projects painted on them under your bed, posters littering your walls. Some local band shows you've attended, a Queen one catching his interest. His eyes also catch your Beatles poster, the one from their White Album. He also sees the pillow he used earlier that day when he was modeling along with the robe tossed into the corner with the rest of your dirty laundry.

"I think I might have a pair of pants you could wear unless you're not a pants to bed kind of guy."

"No pants is what I normally go for but if you're uncomfortable with that I ca-"

"It's fine with me, just no funny business, May."

"Are cuddles out of the equation?"

"I sure as hell hope not."

He smiles and removes his necklaces, placing them next to your sketchbooks on top of the small desk next to the bed. You change into sleep shorts as he takes his trousers off.

Never thought I'd see that twice today.

Shutting off the light and climbing into bed, he goes first, leaving you in your usual spot. Fluffing up the pillows and adjusting the blankets now done, He wraps you in his arms almost immediately, lips kissing your cheek gently.

"You have enough pillows, Bri?"

"Yes. Thank you, love."

"Want me to grab another blanket?"

He laughs gently, kissing your face one last time.

"I'm more than okay."

You turn around to face him head on, able to make out where his eyes are looking. Fingers playing with one curl, eventually leading to caressing the side of his face. Thumb tracing over one of his cheekbones.

"You're so handsome, Bri."

"Ever look at yourself?"

"Do you always kiss ass?"

"Not until the 3rd date."

You slap his arm, laughing.

"I guess with that comment I won't give you a kiss goodnight."

His face contorts in fake hurt. It's wiped off as soon as you bring your lips to his, fingers gently caressing his jaw as you kiss him. Almost as fast as it happened, it stopped. Smiles painting both your faces.

"Goodnight Y/N."

"Goodnight Bri."

Turning back around, you scoot closer to him. Arms around your waist and face tucked near your shoulder, you two fall asleep.

*** You wake up before him. His arms are still wrapped around your middle and your legs entangled with one anothers. Your bladder urging you out of the warm confines of your bed, you carefully move out of his grasp to not awake him. Mission was successful as you close the door behind you, hearing Freddie in the kitchen as you walk to the bathroom. After giving yourself a pep talk while washing you hands, you face your roommate, face giving you a smirk.

"Y/N....I saw his god awful shoes by the door but he wasn't on the couch. Please tell me the details, darling!"

"Nothing really happened, Fred! We ended up talking after you went to bed and he sort of told me he had feelings for me and we passed out on the couch."

"He finally told you? About fucking time! You have no idea how much Roger got on his case. Even Deaky was begging him to shut up and ask you out. 'Oh how is Y/N doing? Is she free sometime soon, Fred? What should I get her for Christmas? What does she like? Do you think she likes me?'....every practice Y/N..every practice."

"At least I finally got around to it, Freddie."

He wrapped his arms around you, voice heavy with sleep.

"Now I get to annoy you about her even more now that we're dating."

Brian kisses your neck as Freddie pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Please don't subject us to that. We've suffered enough, dear."

***

aaaay, it’s done! Tbh, I got the idea for this fic after looking through some of my life drawing sketches. Also, a tip with charcoal or chalk pastel drawings from an art student...use hair spray. It’s cheaper than fixitive spray, works just as well, doesn’t affect the colors in chalk pastels, and doesn’t harm your lungs with the fumes (not nearly as badly, anyway). Besides that, thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging, etc 💖💖

#queen #queen band #queen fanfiction #brian may imagine #brian may fanfiction #brian may x reader

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xmint-conditionx · 4 years ago

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☆ flanked ☆ ch2 | knj

(verb) flank -

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 3.1K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, lots of fluff in this chapter tbh and you might die because dork namjoon has come to the party ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: sorry this repost is a little late; i've been sick the past two days and holed up in bed for the last one. i'm so excited to release this for you and start on the next chapter.

It is 6:05 in the morning, and you are awake. Not wide awake, but awake. You can’t believe you let Namjoon convince you to get up this early, because frankly, nobody has ever convinced you to get up this early. When he said that you’d have to get there first thing in the morning so you can see everything, you really didn’t think he would mean you’d have to get there at 7 AM. It’s always been your philosophy that it’s wrong to wake up before the sun, and you’re finding that getting out of bed in your pitch black room isn’t easy. You’re gonna have to make sure to clarify everything that man says in the future. Ugh, military men, you think.

You groan, muscles stiff as you finally manage to get yourself out of bed.

Bananas is obviously not getting the memo, the only sign of him being his fluffy tail poking out from under the covers. He’s never been into early mornings either.

Namjoon sent you a text yesterday and told you that the exhibit that he really wants to show you requires tickets. He then told you that because they only sell 100 tickets per day on a first come first serve basis; getting in line any later than 7 AM would surely be entirely too late, apparently. The Daegu Art Museum opens at 10, tickets go on sale at 9:30, yet you need to be in line no later than 7? Sure.

He seemed really excited about the exhibit, though, saying that Yayoi Kusama, whoever that person was, was a genius. So… you couldn’t exactly turn him down. Her works were deep and breathtaking and spoke so much about life, according to Namjoon. He had promised it would be worth it, and you thought about that promise as you groggily did your morning routine. Yeah, you thought, it had better be. If only he hadn’t sent too many pleading-eye emojis.

You grabbed your over the shoulder bag and gave Bananas a good belly rub before heading outside.

Despite being almost non-functional this early in the morning, you beat Namjoon to the museum. Gawking at the massive modern building, you walk up to the front doors, where a decent line has already formed. Okay, maybe he was right.

You find yourself a place at the back of the line and just as you reach in your bag to grab your phone to text him, you see Namjoon walking in your direction, long legs making short work of catching up to you. You catch his eyes lingering on your bare legs as he approaches, and for just a moment, you’re glad you chose to wear this skirt.

“Morning, Namjoon,” you groan, leaning up against the museum’s outer wall. More people start filing in line after you, and you’re thankful Namjoon wasn’t too late. “I guess you were right. Look at all these people.”

“Morning, peach,” he says with another one of his dimpled grins, “Glad it’s warming up out? It’s supposed to hit 20 degrees today.”

“Okay, it is entirely too early for you to be this happy,” you say, voice groggy. Namjoon just shrugs.

“Guess I’m just excited.”

You look around the small crowd that has formed and notice that a lot of the people are sitting up against the wall while they wait. You decide to do the same.

“I am too, trust me,” you say, back resting against the cool stone, “I’m just not usually up this early.”

“I see. Maybe conversation can keep you awake. Are there any other places in Daegu you want to see?” Namjoon inquires.

“Well, there is that aquarium I keep hearing about. One of my coworkers on post says that there are mermaids that do a little performance with the fish.”

“Oh! I know which one you’re talking about! I’ve actually been there a few times. I love it there! Fish are so cool.”

“Before I went into veterinary science,” you say, “I was originally planning on being a marine biologist.”

“You’re a vet? I didn’t know that! No wonder Bananas looks like such a happy pup!”

“Yeah,” you say, letting your head fall back, “he really is. But, I really want to go check it out. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to an aquarium.”

“The mermaid performers swim around with a bunch of stingrays. Stingrays are actually not that dangerous, especially if they have the barbs removed from their tails.”

You feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Wow, I didn’t know that.”

“A lot of people think they’re really dangerous because Steve Irwin died from a sting from a stingray, but his injury was a result of the barb piercing his thoracic wall. Most stingray injuries are actually very mild.”

“That’s interesting,” you say quietly, eyes fluttering closed.

“Some people think that cutting down their barbs is abuse, but it’s like cutting off a fingernail to humans. They don’t feel it at all and it grows back over time.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you say as you feel yourself slipping back into sleep.

“It’s the touch tanks that can be a little problematic,” Namjoon continues, oblivious, “Stingrays have a type of mucus that covers their body that protects them from bacteria. If that gets rubbed off, they become vulnerable. A lot of zoos and aquariums are taking plenty of precautionary measures though, like making sure the guests wash their hands before and after they experience the touch tank. In fact, I think that given the proper precautions, touch tanks…”

______________

The warmth next to you feels like home, and threatens to pull you back to sleep. You feel yourself holding onto something... firm and yet so soft, but it’s comforting, so you tighten your grip and nuzzle further in. You then feel a gentle breeze run across your legs and wonder where your blankets have gone. Bananas has probably hogged them all. You breathe in and smell laundry detergent, a little musk and… men’s deodorant? There’s the quiet chatter of birdsong, and an unmistakable trickle of water, and you instantly remember where you are.

Your eyes snap open to find yourself snuggled up to Namjoon, arms hooked around his bicep and cheek against his shoulder. He seems un-bothered by your lack of respect for his personal space; he doesn’t even look up from his book. Like it’s the most natural thing for you to be attached to him like this. Embarrassed, you quickly distance yourself from him and apologize profusely while he just chuckles a bit. He puts his bookmark in to keep his place and turns towards you as you blink yourself awake, tasting the dryness in your mouth. Oh god, you must have had your mouth open.

“It’s fine, peach. I didn’t even realize you were asleep until you started snoring.”

You gasp. “I did not!”

“Oh, you did,” he says, eyeing you playfully, “It was only a little though. And it was really quiet. Kind of cute, actually.” You play hit him in the arm that you had just been latched on to.

“Hey, don’t be mad at me. I bought your ticket!”

“You what?! What time is it?” you ask, scrambling to look at your phone. It was 5 minutes until open. “Namjoon, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I was going to, but you were sleeping so hard...”

“Well, at least that means I wasn’t all over you this entire time.”

“Oh, no," he says, "you were.”

You groan. “How did you get up and buy the tickets then without me knowing?”

“A man has to have some secrets, you know. Come on, let’s go look at some art.”

The inside of the Daegu Art Museum is stunning. The lobby is bright and open; the sunlight pours into that first room through the large windows, casting a lovely morning light on all of the bright and cheery visitors. Some of the larger pieces are displayed in this grand lobby, some towering ten of feet above you.

“Namjoon, this is beautiful.”

“Just you wait, Come on, first we’ll do classical, then lunch, then modern art. The best one we’ll save for last.”

Classical art wasn’t your favorite, but Namjoon got absorbed in just about every piece. When he saw one that really grabbed his attention, he would sit there gawking at it, mouth open as he read from the little plaque next to it. The way his eyes filled with wonder and widened with discovery at the newly rotated paintings was absolutely adorable. He almost had this child-like wonder about him, eagerly looking back and forth from the plaque to the painting and back again. You almost enjoyed studying Namjoon instead of the art.

You let him take the lead, showing you some of his favorite pieces as you navigate through the galleries. He is definitely in his element here. After he finishes his embellished tour of the classical works, you both decide it would be a good time to break for lunch. The museum has a little cafe, so Namjoon takes care of waiting for your orders while you are tasked with finding a nice spot to spread your blanket outside on the grounds. You see a spot beneath a tree offering up a little shade, so you spread the blanket over the soft grass and take your place, closing your eyes and breathing in the fresh air. Namjoon soon arrives with your food, and settles down next to you.

Before you start to eat, you remove your cardigan, exposing your chest and arms to the air, hoping to enjoy some of the new warmth in Daegu. You hear Namjoon take a sharp inhale, and thinking something’s wrong, you quickly look over at him. He’s got his eyes trained on you, and he swallows hard before he realizes you’re looking at him. He jerks his gaze away, finds something else to look at and shakes his head, as if to clear it. Was he… checking you out?

“Sorry, I thought I uh…” he trails off, “thought I saw a bug. It was, uh, just a shadow.”

“Uh, thanks for uh, looking out,” you say, before a thought strikes you, “Hey, Namjoon. I brought my painting stuff with me today. I was hoping to paint a little while we eat, is that okay? I don’t want to be bad company.”

He perks up, “Oh, yeah, sure. I can just keep reading my book. Hypervelocity stars aren’t going to learn about themselves!”

You set about getting out your watercolor palette, planning on using some of your bottled water to wet your paints. For some reason, you glance back over at Namjoon. He’s sitting with his back against the tree, legs crossed at the ankles, book in one hand, and bao in the other. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed together in concentration, and he lazily takes a bite, not even looking at the bao bun. You hold back a giggle when you see he got some sauce on his mouth. You can’t help but point it out by getting his attention and tapping your own bottom lip. Namjoon studies you for a minute, and slowly licks his bottom lip, almost too slowly. Before you can register what he had just done, he just smiles at you innocently and goes back to reading his book.

This man is going to kill you, so he might as well be the subject for your art. The way he’s positioned himself is just too adorable to ignore.

After getting the basic shape of his outline done and halfway through the details in his face, he stirs from his place under the tree. You watch him as he places his book down carefully on the blanket and walks toward your back, steps ever so gentle. You turn your head and see a little bird hopping around on the grass, and Namjoon is after it. He breaks off a piece of bread from his second bao and extends it towards the bird, who eyes him suspiciously. To your surprise though, it hops forward and takes the bread, chirping up at Namjoon. He goes to sit cross legged on the ground, but doing so ends up startling the bird, who then flies a short distance away on the lawn. Namjoon sulks and pouts a little before getting up and walking after the bird. This is the craziest thing you have ever seen. You love animals so much that you’ve dedicated your career to helping them stay healthy, but this is on a whole other level.

You go back to refining your art, throwing some color into the sky and on the tree, seeing as your main subject has wandered off.

You’re startled when he comes back from behind you.

“How’s the art coming?” he asks, looking over your shoulder at your book, “Hey! Is that me?!”

“Well, it was going to be until you started playing Snow White.”

“Yeah…” he says, looking down at what’s left of his sandwich, “the little guy ate all my bread.”

You laugh a little at him as he frowns at the char siu pork filling barely being contained by the thinnest bun dough you’ve ever seen. Widening his eyes, he downs the rest of the bao bun in one bite.

“Dind youh whanna fhinish youhr phaintingh?” he says, covering his full mouth as he speaks.

“I can finish it some other time. Let’s go see the modern stuff before I want another nap.”

Stepping into the large room that houses the modern art, you take in a sharp breath with how absolutely full it is. Sculptures, paintings, installations; and in the back of the room is a line leading to a small door. You don’t know where to look first, so thankfully your personal tour guide is there to show you the way.

You’re reading the plaque on a minimalistic piece when Namjoon comes and grabs your wrist, excitedly ushering you to follow him. He leads you to the other side of the room where he stops in front of a section of blank wall, gesturing for you to look at it. You sit there and wonder what in the world he could be talking about when you see it. A piece of bright pink gum is stuck to the pristine white wall.

“This wasn't here last time!” he exclaims in a whisper. “I can’t believe this.”

“Yeah, kinda sucks that someone did that.”

“No, you don’t get it. This is an installation.”

“... are you sure about that?”

“Yeah! Look, it's about how such a simple thing can ruin something so large. Like finding a fly in your chardonnay, or there being a hair in your food, or one small imperfection in a person ruining your whole view of them.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s actual trash, Namjoon.”

“Of course it’s actual trash. I don’t think the artist could have gotten the point across without using actual chewing gum. It says so much. It might also be depicting the actual process of tainting something too! Like, how long did the artist chew the gum before they stuck it there? How much time and effort did it take them to ruin this whole wall with their gum? Where’s the plaque?”

As Namjoon searches the nearby walls for a plaque, a janitor comes by and scrapes off the gum, smiling gently at the both of you. You send Namjoon a pointed look, one that’s screaming “I told you so,” and then you both start laughing, having to hold back most of the sound in the quiet of the viewing space.

“Okay, last but not least. You ready?” The two of you were next in line to enter that small door you had seen at the back of the room when you first entered. The lady taking the tickets had already informed you that you would have five minutes once the door shut. You still had no idea what to expect.

“Yeah, I guess I had better be.” The door opened, letting out the museum goer who had just been in there.

Namjoon leaned up to your ear from behind and gently said, “Close your eyes.”

You were about to protest when he continued speaking, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I’ll walk you in there and tell you when to open. Trust me?”

You answered him by letting your lids drop. You felt him guide you by your shoulders as you walked gently forward and then to the right. You could tell that the floor texture had changed from the concrete you’d been walking on all day to something more plastic. You heard the door softly click shut behind you.

“Open,” he commanded softly, and you complied.

You could not make sense out of what you were seeing. The view went on forever, but you could tell that the actual room was so very small. Directly in front of you and on all sides were mirrors, infinitely reflecting off of themselves into the horizon. You were both completely surrounded by them. Scattered around the part of the room that wasn’t the black platform that you were standing on were delicate fairy lights in a cool white tone. It felt like you were floating in a void, so endless and empty. There were specks of brightness, but they did nothing to change the darkness enveloping you. Though it felt infinite, there was a nagging sense of being trapped. Surrounded on all sides. It was beautiful and terrifying to look at. Consumed by everything and nothing. You forgot Namjoon was there until he spoke quietly against your ear.

“This is what I think grief looks like. If it could take a physical form, this would be it.”

He’s right. He’s so right. You’re being swallowed by emptiness. You both are.

You both stand there in silence for the next few minutes, Namjoon’s warmth radiating onto your back, his hands still on your shoulders. Occasionally, his breath would brush against the nape of your neck.

“You really get it, don’t you?” you ask quietly.

“I can’t say I understand what it’s like to lose a spouse, peach. But I understand grief in my own way. I know this sounds crazy, because I don’t believe in any higher power, but I think we were supposed to meet each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean... “ he starts, “I just feel better when I’m around you. I feel like a… better person. You don’t treat me like... “ he stops himself.

“Like what, Namjoon?”

“You don’t treat me like other people do. In a lot of ways. That’s... the easiest way to say it.”

You just nod, wanting to soak up these last few moments in this room with him. In this dark space, it’s not so scary to get close. You allow yourself to lean back into him, and he stiffens up for a moment before circling his arms around you.

“We’re gonna get through all of this together,” he says against your ear, “I promise. Together.”

#bts smut #rm smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #namjoon imagine #namjoon fanfic #rm x you #rm x reader #xmint-conditionx #flanked

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toxicpineapple · 4 years ago

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Well, this year is coming to a close!!! Here are my favourite writings from the year 2020 :)

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January:

“A penchant for looking at rocks”, the first ever Amamota fic I wrote (it’s been a long fucking year, haha) and another 5+1 things fic! Buckle down LGBTQ+ community because there are a lot of these, in fact I’m pretty sure I started off last year’s compilation with a 5+1 things fic? Anyway, this one was the five times Kaito helps Rantaro when he’s hurt, plus the one time Rantaro helps Kaito. I love me some good whump and I felt I had to choose this one because it’s one of my favourites just generally speaking.

Content Warnings: Injuries, tending to injuries, asthma attacks.

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February:

“Ibuki Mioda’s Kisses”, which I wrote for day fourteen of Femslash February. Boy, if I thought I wrote a lot in January, just take a moment to peek at February 2020… I was churning out a fic daily for the entire month. I don’t regret it though! I got to write a lot of characters who I haven’t written a lot, and explore a whole lot of prompts, and if I can remove my head from my ass I fully intend on participating in Femslash February again next year. Ibuki Mioda’s Kisses is the piece I wrote for Valentine’s Day, which was my two year anniversary with my boyfriend, so I wanted to write something special commemorating our relationship. No idea how I’m going to top that in 2021, but uh, check out the fic! It’s cute and I like to think it’s clever.

Content Warnings: The Mortifying Ideal Of Discovering Oneself, secondhand embarrassment, bad kisses. (I mean in the sense that texturally they’re just, unpleasant. It’s about asexuality, alright.)

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March:

“Adventure”, which I wrote for day five of Amasai Week, which was the first ship week I hosted and participated in in 2020! This was the longest piece that I wrote, and my favourite, just because I really really love the childhood friends trope, and I liked writing Shuichi and Rantaro as children, adventuring together and just having a fantastic time. Amasai Week actually took place while one of my parrots stayed overnight at the emergency vet after a fight with another one, so it was a pretty stressful time for me, but I’m proud of myself for completing it and looking forward to hosting Amasai Week again in 2020! Stay tuned, we’ve almost got the prompts worked out.

Content Warnings: None.

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April:

“A couple of ghosts”, which is the fic I wrote for Kaito’s birthday! I see we’ve reached the part of 2020 where I met my abuser, which, yaaaaay, but also, I’m still really proud of this fic, despite how much I kind of associate it with him now! It’s the fic where I said, y’know what, no, we can’t have nice things, and gave Kaito a horrible, traumatic reason for his fear of ghosts, as well as two dead parents. It’s Saimota though and there’s a cute hurt/comfort scene at the end so go ahead and check it out if you want.

Content Warnings: Car accidents, minor character death, injuries, PTSD.

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May:

“Are you down to play?”, the fic that I wrote for day four of Saimota Week, wherein Shuichi has a secret and Kaito makes a bet with Kaede to figure it out. Man, if you thought I had bad associations with the fic I chose for April, look at this one, haha. But it’s objectively the best writing piece I uploaded that month, I’m really proud of my characterisation and the scenes in the fic, and hopefully someday I’ll be able to read this piece without thinking about him. :)

Content Warnings: None! This one’s just a fluffy feel good fic.

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June:

“Tamago kake gohan”, the Sonanami canon compliant hurt/comfort fic I wrote for my friend Void’s birthday. I put out a whopping three one shots in June because I’d really hit the swing of my roleplaying and hadn’t adjusted to it well enough to be writing fic at the same time yet, so, yeah. This one’s cute, though! Sonia is sad about Gundham and then Chiaki makes her some food. They’re sapphic.

Content Warnings: Canonical character death.

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July:

“Good night”, the Amasai 5+1 things that I wrote for my friend Neb’s birthday! This is the five times Saihara slept in front of Amami, plus the one time Rantaro slept in front of Shuichi. It’s cute! They’re tender! It features the trope where you sleep in front of a loved one! I love that trope! And it’s Neb’s favourite so I had to go for it, hehe. These two are cute boys and they deserve to be happy.

Content Warnings: Breakdowns, nightmares. (But neither is from the narrator’s perspective.)

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August:

“Making that dream come true”, the royalty AU Kaede and Rantaro become friends fic that I wrote while I briefly hyperfixated back on my royalty AU. I got into another writing groove during this time so I actually have a lot of really good fics up from August (including Mutual Vulnerability… Amamotas I’m sorry to have cucked you like this that fic was so damn good) but this one was my favourite. I love writing in first person, and I love writing platonic relationships, and someday I’m going to write the multichapter that this fic sets up for.

Content Warnings: Arranged marriages, and something else but it’s a secret, shhh.

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September:

“A lot of firsts”, the Harumami fic I wrote for the first day of Amami Week, which is a personal writing challenge that I did this year to celebrate the week leading up to Amami’s birthday. September was a really dry writing month for me, partly because of the roleplay stuff and partly because of personal issues, but I’m still proud of the heteroeroticism (heh) in this one. Maki and Rantaro have chemistry, what can I say.

Content Warnings: Stab injuries (not from Maki to Rantaro, please).

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October:

“October 3rd”, the second fic I wrote for Rantaro’s birthday, and also the Oumami fic that I wrote for day seven of Amami Week. I’m a fan of most of the fics I wrote in October (I wouldn’t gift someone a fic I’m not proud of and most of the fics I wrote, including this one, were gift fics) but this one is my favourite just because of the introspection, and also because of the fact that I got to write Ouma, because he’s always so much fun. I enjoyed writing the two of them going back and forth and have another Oumami fic on the way so stay tuned, haha.

Content Warnings: None.

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November:

“It is what it is”, the fic I wrote for day four of Amamota week, which takes place when Rantaro is an adult, and out at a bar with his friends, where he meets Kaito and goes for a walk outside. It’s a melancholic piece for sure, but I like capturing those vibes with my fics, and I got to write a group interaction which is always one of my favourite things to do. Amamota is my biggest comfort pairing and I’m glad that I got to host Amamota Week this year, because I enjoy those two so much. :) Great chemistry.

Content Warnings: Recreational alcohol use (everyone is drinking legally and tentatively responsibly), general sad vibes idk.

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December:

Okay, honestly, I haven’t posted anything yet this month aside from a vent, and since the vent I posted talks about my eating disorder and it’s not really very good writing anyway, I don’t feel comfortable putting it on this list. I have a multichapter holiday themed Oumami fic on the way that I will hopefully finish before the end of the year, as well as a fic I’m working on for a writing and art trade that I ABSOLUTELY need to get off my ass and work on, so those will hopefully be out by the end of 2020.

But yeah, that aside, that’s the complete list of my favourite fics from 2020. It’s been a long year and I’m glad to have stayed a member of the Danganronpa fandom through it. I really appreciate all the friends I’ve made, and the fun times I’ve had while I’ve been here.

2020 has treated me pretty terribly, haha. I met someone who I really wish I could’ve gone without, and my health has suffered, and I’m hoping to be able to start my recovery properly in 2021. Guess if I have a new year’s resolution, it’s to let go of what he did to me and start trying to get better. So I’m going to work on it! I can’t say that I think 2021 is going to be anybody’s year, but maybe it’s not about what the universe has in store for us so much as it is about what we make of it.

I hope everyone who reads this has a wonderful new year, I love you all dearly, thanks so much for the support and the laughs, and I’ll keep on hanging around and spreading my Amami propaganda.

Someone has to, haha.

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