#i just thought of publishing it early so we can share/think of what to do

[hsslilly-blog]

guys do you think i publish the post for our pride event tomorrow so people have time to prep or do i post it only on the 1st?

[elodieunderglass]

Having dug out the Unfinished Tales to reference a conversation Tolkien wrote between Gandalf and Pippin (but didn’t publish) I thought I’d share it. Gandalf is talking to Pippin about the history of Thorin’s company, hobbits and why he chose Bilbo.

This is evidence for the grand statement I just made about how Bilbo was intended to be a catalyst that changed his society, and that hobbit society was indeed significantly different after his journey, with large social changes occurring between The Hobbit and Fellowship. But it’s also a very funny passage to me so here it is:

‘And then there was the Shire-folk. I began to have a warm place in my heart for them in the Long Winter, which none of you can remember.

They were very hard put to it then: one of the worst pinches they have been in, dying of cold, and starving in the dreadful dearth that followed. But that was the time to see their courage, and their pity one for another. It was by their pity as much as by their tough uncomplaining courage that they survived. I wanted them still to survive.

(😭😭😭😭. Also the theme of having pity for each other is what redeems both Bilbo and Frodo re: Gollum.)

But I saw that the Westlands were in for another very bad time again, sooner or later, though of quite a different sort: pitiless war.

(This is possibly one reason why this passage didn’t make it to publication - Gandalf shouldn’t have had this much foreknowledge of the upcoming war of the ring.)

To come through that I thought they would need something more than they now had. It is not easy to say what. Well, they would want to know a bit more, understand a bit clearer what it was all about, and where they stood.

(It’s also explaining that Bilbo’s role in Thorin’s company was predetermined both by a more omnipotent Gandalf and by Fate; that Gandalf selected Bilbo to be a social catalyst, to return and provoke hobbit society into a more adaptable, resilient state; therefore increasing their chances of surviving.)

They had begun to forget: forget their own beginnings and legends, forget what little they had known about the greatness of the world. It was not yet gone, but it was getting buried: the memory of the high and the perilous. But you cannot teach that sort of thing to a whole people quickly. There was not time.

(Thus Bilbo was supposed to be changed, and return changed by his journey, to teach his people.)

And anyway you must begin at some point, with some one person. I dare say he was “chosen” and I was only chosen to choose him; but I picked out Bilbo.’

‘Now that is just what I want to know,’ said Peregrin. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘How would you select any one Hobbit for such a purpose?’ said Gandalf. ‘I had not time to sort them all out;

(He is SO funny)

but I knew the Shire very well by that time, although when I met Thorin I had been away for more than twenty years on less pleasant business. So naturally thinking over the Hobbits that I knew, I said to myself: “I want a dash of the Took” (but not too much, Master Peregrin)

(This is brilliant we are always BODYING pippin constantly. NOT TOO MUCH TOOK 👀. We were ROBBED not having this in canon )

“and I want a good foundation of the stolider sort, a Baggins perhaps.” That pointed at once to Bilbo.

(Eugenics! Observing them like laboratory mouse lines! Call him a Charles River BILB/o the way you’re genotyping these poor little bastards for your purposes)

And I had known him once very well, almost up to his coming of age, better than he knew me.

(??? Hiding in the bushes spying or…?)

I liked him then. And now I found that he was “unattached” – to jump on again, for of course I did not know all this until I went back to the Shire. I learned that he had never married. I thought that odd, though I guessed why it was; and the reason that I guessed was not the one that most of the Hobbits gave me: that he had early been left very well off and his own master.

(Was it cos he’s gay as fuck, Gandalf)

No, I guessed that he wanted to remain “unattached” for some reason deep down which he did not understand himself – or would not acknowledge, for it alarmed him.

(I 100% now and for always love a narrator in a constant state of Just Fucking Lies To Everyone All The Time, Giving Us Nothing, Acknowledging Nothing Including Himself. NOPE NOT PROCESSING ANYTHING TODAY THANKS. WE’RE CLOSED. COME BACK TOMORROW. just A Massive Liar about everything and for what!!! Bilbo Baggins my beloved you were born wrong.)

He wanted, all the same, to be free to go when the chance came, or he had made up his courage. I remembered how he used to pester me with questions when he was a youngster about the Hobbits that had occasionally “gone off ”, as they said in the Shire. There were at least two of his uncles on the Took side that had done so.’

You can see why I love this! And I can see why Tolkien didn’t include it, too. Still very fun passage and near enough to canon to be used if you ever want to.

[funkin-news]

ninjamuffin newgrounds post!

tl;dr

fuck ads!! use adblocker whenever you can!!

the crew tries to make fnf as ad-free as possible, not just the game but where you download it- it's why it's on itch/newgrounds and not anywhere that offers ad revenue

that being said, fnf mobile will likely have a free version which... will have ads. they will try not to make the ads too obnoxious

(there will be an ad-free paid version too!)

extra note from me, not the post: if you're an android user you totally shouldn't use youtube revanced and purpletv or anything for mobile youtube and twitch adblockers. it would be such a hindrance to the advertisers. ha ha

full post copied below ⬇️

greetings and merry xmas newgrounds

on my brain for a very long time has been advertisements. Something about ads that stick in my brain ever since I came across this little thing from Lichess.

In due time, unfortunately this post will become a bit hypocritical, as we will eventually publish FNF onto mobile, and that will very likely have a free ad supported version. Hopefully that doesn't undermine my thoughts too much, however FNF is more than just me and my brain! Not everything I say goes in terms of FNF decisions! So with all that being said, let me begin shouting about everything I hate about ads.

I use adblocker on everything, and you should too. UBlock Origin has been my reliable go to. Online ads are especially an insidious breed. I'll try not to be some tinfoil hat, but I do often wonder what the internet would look like if the online ad model *wasn't* fruitful back in the early days of the internet. Would Facebook, Google, etc. have an arms race to the bottom to get infinite amounts of data on every single person ever? Would social media algorithms optimize for a different experience other than *spend as much time as possible on our site*? Ads have existed before Youtube, Google, internet though. They exist on TV, on subways and buses, on radio, in newspapers. I think for the most part my deep hatred of ads is for online kind, I do think there can be "irl" ads that I find very unpleasant. Going on a subway or sitting at a bus stop, I think people deserve more dignity from their city public transit than to have something sold to them! I don't think an ad free life should be only reserved for those who can pay for spotify premium, youtube red, etc. I think everyone should be entitled to that DIGNITY.

X (the everything app, formerly Twitter ) has a Premium subscription that costs 10$/month (CAD), and they will only give you *half* the ads in your feed. How generous of them. I will be dramatic, and say that I look at ads with disgust. I hope to think I'm somewhat justified, as most ads look like dogshit, and are pretty worthless.

For a very long time (and currently, as of writing/posting) FNF has been entirely ad free. We did stand up to putting it on other web portals that offer ads and ad payments/rev share, because we do somewhat want to be part of the change we'd like to see in the world. We want to believe in a world where someone can put out a free game on itch/newgrounds, and have the development be supported purely off donations (which FNF was supported by that in the early days / first 6 months of development!). We definitely could have made much MUCH more money if we put FNF on websites that offer ad rev share, but we didn't, and I hope that doesn't fall on deaf ears.

However we do promote our own things from within the game, Kickstarter, merch, etc. I suppose I'm less upset or even thinking about that, I think there's a big difference if we had a lil Kickstarter trailer in-game that played, opposed to having an in-game advertisement for some fuckass mobile game or some cosmetics or somethin. We specifically are still curating what we are putting in the game with our lil links to merch, kickstarter, etc.

We also provide the soundtrack on Spotify / streaming services, which do indeed get money from ads. I think I'm so detatched from Spotify ads and being angry at them, since I've been spotify premium user even at the brokest poorest in my life... i need them album downloads!!! I do think that's an aspect where there is an adfree alternative, which is Bandcmap, where you can listen to the FNF OST as much as you want, and if you pay some coin, you can download it in high quality!

My thoughts on FNF mobile with ads is that they will make me very unhappy and deeply sad. I do sincerely apologize to those of you who would be unable to play FNF on anything other than a mobile device, and aren't able to get the full mobile version, so you become punished with ads. We do hope to not be obnoxious with mobile ads. If you have a computer, even a shitty busted one that runs slow, I personally hope you end up compiling the mobile version yourself to get past ads. The thought of that lets me rest easier just a little bit. The FNF will be proudly open source forever.

There will also be a paid version of FNF mobile, that will have no ads. Pay for that one if you please.

[rockalillygirl]

Mamma mia here we go again…

So I have more thoughts because apparently there’s no bottom to the murderbot mindhole I’ve fallen down.

(Spoiler warning- minor stuff from several of the books, pls check tags etc.)

I’ve been reading a lot of things recently exploring Murderbot as an unreliable narrator, which I think is a cool result of System Collapse (because we all know our beloved MB is going through it in this one). There’s also been some interesting related discussion of MB’s distrust of and sometimes biased assessment/treatment of other constructs and bots.

And I’ve been reading a lot about CombatUnits! And I want to talk about them!!

Main thoughts can be summarized as follows:

We don’t see a lot about CombatUnits in the books, and I think what we do see from MB’s pov encourages the reader to view them as less sympathetic than other constructs.

I’m very skeptical of this portrayal for reasons.

The existence of CombatUnits makes me fucking sad and I have a lot of feelings about them!

I got introduced to the idea of MB as an unreliable narrator in a post by onironic It analyzes how in SC, MB seems to distrust Three to a somewhat unreasonable degree, and how it sometimes infantilizes Three or treats it the way human clients have treated it in the past. The post is Amazing and goes into way more detail, so pls go read it (link below):

https://www.tumblr.com/onironic/736245031246135296?source=share

So these ideas were floating around in my brain when I read an article Martha Wells recently published in f(r)iction magazine titled “Bodily Autonomy in the Murderbot Diaries”. I’ll link the article here:

(Rn the only way to access the article is to subscribe to the magazine or buy an e-copy of the specific issue which is $12)

In the article, Wells states that MB displaced its fear of being forced to have sex with humans onto the ComfortUnit in Artificial Condition. I think it’s reasonable to assume that MB also does this with other constructs. With Three, I think it’s more that MB is afraid if what it knows Three is capable of, or (as onironic suggests in their post and I agree with) some jealousy that Three seems more like what humans want/expect a rogue SecUnit to be.

But I want to explore how this can be applied to CombatUnits, specifically.

We don’t learn a lot about them in the books. One appears for a single scene in Exit Strategy, and that’s it. What little else we know comes from MB’s thoughts on them sprinkled throughout the series. To my knowledge, no other character even mentions them (which raises interesting questions about how widely-known their existence is outside of high-level corporate military circles).

When MB does talk about CombatUnits in the early books, it’s as a kind of boogeyman figure (the real “murderbots” that even Murderbot is afraid of). And then when one does show up in ES, it’s fucking terrifying! There’s a collective “oh shit” moment as both MB and the reader realize what it’s up against. Very quickly what we expect to be a normal battle turns into MB running for its life, desperately throwing up hacks as the CombatUnit slices through them just as fast. We and MB know that it wouldn’t have survived the encounter if its humans hadn’t helped it escape. So the CombatUnit really feels like a cut above the other enemies in the series.

And what struck me reading that scene was how the CombatUnit acts like the caricature of an “evil robot” that MB has taught us to question. It seems single-mindedly focused on violence and achieving its objective, and it speaks in what I’d call a “Terminator-esque” manner: telling MB to “Surrender” (like that’s ever worked) and responds to MB’s offer to hack its governor module with “I want to kill you” (ES, pp 99-100).

(Big tangent: Am I the only one who sees parallels between this and how Tlacey forces the ComfortUnit to speak to MB in AC? She makes it suggest they “kill all the humans” because that’s how she thinks constructs talk to each other (AC, pp 132-4). And MB picks up on it immediately. So why is that kind of talk inherently less suspicious coming from a CombatUnit than a ComfortUnit? My headcanon is that I’m not convinced the CombatUnit was speaking for itself. What if a human controller was making it say things they thought would be intimidating? Idk maybe I’ve been reading too many fics where CombatUnits are usually deployed with a human handler. There could be plenty of reasons why the CombatUnit would’ve talked like that. I’m just suspicious.)

(Also, disclaimer: I want to clarify before I go on that I firmly believe that even though MB seems to be afraid of CombatUnits and thinks they’re assholes, it would still advocate for them to have autonomy. I’m not trying to say that either MB or Wells sees CombatUnits as less worthy of personhood or freedom- because I feel the concept that “everything deserves autonomy” is very much at the heart of the series.)

So it’s clear from all of this that MB is scared of CombatUnits and distrusts them for a lot of reasons. I read another breathtaking post by @grammarpedant that gives a ton of examples of this throughout the books and has some great theories on why MB might feel this way. I’ll summarize the ones here that inspired me the most, but pls go read the original post for the full context:

https://www.tumblr.com/grammarpedant/703920247856562177?source=share

OP explains that SecUnits and CombatUnits are pretty much diametrically opposed because of their conflicting functions: Security safeguards humans, while Combat kills them. Of course these functions aren’t rigid- MB has implied that it’s been forced to be violent towards humans before, and I’m sure that extracting/guarding important assets could be a part of a CombatUnit's function. But it makes sense that MB would try to distance itself from being considered a CombatUnit, using its ideas about them to validate the parts of its own function that it likes (protecting people). OP gives what I think is the clearest example of this, which is the moment in Fugitive Telemetry when MB contrasts its plan to sneak aboard a hostile ship and rescue some refugees with what it calls a “CombatUnit” plan, which would presumably involve a lot more murder (FT, p 92).

This reminds me again of what Wells said in the f(r)iction article, that on some level MB is frightened by the idea that it could have been made a ComfortUnit (friction, p 44). I think the idea that it could’ve been a CombatUnit scares it too, and that’s why it keeps distinguishing itself and its function from them. But I think it’s important to point out, that in the above example from FT, even MB admits that the murder-y plan it contrasts with its own would be one made by humans for CombatUnits. So again we see that we just can’t know much about the authentic nature of CombatUnits, or any constructs with intact governor modules, because they don’t have freedom of expression. MB does suggest that CombatUnits may have some more autonomy when it comes to things like hacking and combat which are a part of their normal function. But how free can those choices be when the threat of the governor module still hangs over them?

I think it could be easy to fall into the trap of seeing CombatUnits as somehow more complicit in the systems of violence in the mbd universe. But I think that’s because we often make a false association between violence and empowerment, when even in our world that’s not always the case. But, critically, this can’t be the case for CombatUnits because they’re enslaved in the same way SecUnits and ComfortUnits are (though the intricacies are different).

There was another moment in the f(r)iction article that I found really chilling. Wells states that there’s a correlation between SecUnits that are forced to kill humans and ones that go rogue (friction, p 45). It’s a disturbing thought on its own, but I couldn’t help wondering then how many CombatUnits try to hack their governor modules? And what horrible lengths would humans go to to stop them? I refuse to believe that a CombatUnit’s core programming would make it less effected by the harm its forced to perpetrate. That might be because I’m very anti-deterministic on all fronts, but I just don’t buy it.

I’m not entirely sure why I feel so strongly about this. Of course, I find the situation of all constructs in mbd deeply upsetting. But the more I think about CombatUnits, the more heartbreaking their existence seems to me. There’s a very poignant moment in AC when MB compares ART’s function to its own to explain why there are things it doesn’t like about being a SecUnit (AC, p 33). In that scene, MB is able to identify some parts of its function that it does like, but I have a hard time believing a CombatUnit would be able to do the same. I’m not trying to say that SecUnits have it better (they don’t) (the situation of each type of construct is horrible in it’s own unique way). It’s just that I find the idea of construct made only for violence and killing really fucking depressing. I can’t even begin to imagine the horror of their day-to-day existence.

@grammarpedant made another point in their post that I think raises a TON of important questions not only about CombatUnits, but about how to approach the idea of “function” when it comes to machine intelligence in general. They explain that, in a perfect version of the mbd universe, there wouldn’t be an obvious place for CombatUnits the way there could be for SecUnits and ComfortUnits who wanted to retain their original functions. A better world would inherently be a less violent one, so where does that leave CombatUnits? Would they abandon their function entirely, or would they find a way to change it into something new?

I’ve been having a lot of fun imagining what a free CombatUnit would be like. But in some ways it’s been more difficult than I expected. I’ve heard Wells say in multiple interviews that one of her goals in writing Murderbot was to challenge people to empathize with someone they normally wouldn’t, and I find CombatUnits challenging in exactly that way. Sometimes I wonder if I would’ve felt differently about these books if MB had been a CombatUnit instead of a SecUnit. Would I have felt such an immediate connection to MB if its primary function before hacking its governor module had been killing humans, or if it didn’t have relatable hobbies like watching media? Or if it didn’t have a human face for the explicit purpose of making people like me more comfortable? I’m not sure that I would have.

Reading SC has got me interested in exploring the types of people that humans (or even MB itself) would struggle to accept. So CombatUnits are one of these and possible alien-intelligences are another. All this is merely a small sampling of the thoughts that have been swirling around in my brain-soup! So if anyone is interested in watching me fumble my way through these concepts in more detail, I may be posting “something” in the very near future!

Would really appreciate anyone else’s thoughts about all of THIS^^^^ It’s been my obsession over the holidays and helping me cope with family stress and flying anxiety.

[nicestgirlonline]

sneaky

Pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Warnings: None! Just fluff!

Summary: You and Bucky decide to keep your new relationship a secret with somewhat disastrous results…

Word Count: 3.7k 

A/N: Here’s my entry for @the-slumberparty week 2 challenge blast from the past! I don’t really have an old WIPs, I was trying to jumpstart my writing again with this sleepover. So here’s a little sequel to dumb dumb, since you guys really really seemed to like that one! Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome! <3 

part 1

That Valentine's Day was possibly the best night of Bucky’s life. He had finally gotten to express everything he had been feeling for you. Friday night bled into Saturday morning, neither of you getting much sleep. The months of yearning and pining all finally erupted into passion, lust and love.

Saturday morning quickly became Saturday afternoon, with lots of pillow talk, telling each other little secrets about yourselves, sharing childhood stories. A simple Postmates order and quick text to Steve meant no one to bother you, and no reason for you to leave his bed. 

Saturday night, or what Bucky was calling round two became Sunday morning and that brought about a little thing called the Sunday Scaries.  

Amidst the bliss and happiness there was a lingering thought that kept bothering you. The two of you lounged in his bed, enjoying each other's quiet company, the moonlight of the early morning making the room glow blue. 

You bit your lip. Time to rip the bandaid off. Real life was going to be starting too soon again. 

“Bucky I’ve been thinking…about us.”  

“Really? Me too.” He started to pepper your face with kisses. “I’ve been thinking about all the ways I can have fun with my girlfriend.” You giggled as he started to tickle your sides. You wiggled your way out of his grasp. You propped yourself up on your forearms and did your best to put on your serious face. Which was very hard when Bucky was being so cute. 

“I mean it! I’ve been thinking, maybe we should keep this private? For a while?” You tried your best to keep your voice soft, the face Bucky made broke your heart, which was what you were afraid of. He looked extremely scared. 

“What’s wrong, what’d I do? Was girlfriend too soon? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, ” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close against him. 

“No, no, you’re my boyfriend now.” You assured him. You took his face in your hands and he leaned into your palm in relief.  “I am really excited to be with you but we do work together. And there’s HR and office gossip and I don’t want that to affect us when we are still figuring out us. I guess I’ve never really thought about the power imbalance between us.” 

Bucky nodded albeit a bit reluctantly.  He untangled his arms around you so you were both lying on your side looking at each other. 

“I mean…I understand. You know I don’t really think of myself as a big superhero or something, but it is a ‘power imbalance’. Does it…bother you?” He asked scratching his face to avoid eye contact. You sat up, suddenly very confused. 

“What are you talking about, I’m the scientist who’s studying you? I’m the one abusing my authority here. It's all very unethical!” You exclaimed. 

“I don’t feel taken advantage of here, Doll. If anything, people are going to think I’m taking advantage of you.” Bucky chuckled. 

“Why?”

“I’m a bit older than you. I’m sort of famous for not so great reasons. I’m also literally more powerful than you?” He held up his left arm as if to show you proof. You dismissed it with a hand wave. 

“You don’t know that you’re more famous than me. I’ve been published in many academic journals.” You pointed out. Bucky shook his head. Gosh he liked you so much. He couldn’t even believe this was really happening to him half the time.  

“There were weeks of press coverage for my trial.”  You just rolled your eyes at that. Bucky was always so afraid that everyone saw him as a villain, but you’d never once felt any sort of danger from this sweet man. 

“Well, agree to disagree. But I still think maybe for the first two months we should just keep it quiet. So we don’t have to worry about anyone but each other. Just lowkey.” He pressed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“Yeah. You’re right, you’re totally right. We will keep things low key.” 

X

“Hey Steve, uhhh we’ve got a problem.” Bucky rushed into the breakfast room, thankful that Steve was the only one there. Steve queried his eyebrow at his panic stricken best friend. 

“What’s up Buck?” He asked. Bucky, seemingly slightly out of breath grabbed the side of the cabinets, he closed his eyes to try and get his 

“So you know how I told you about…on Valentines Day…and then we…so the weekend was…” He waved his hand to emphasis his pauses and Steve nodded along.  

“Of course,  I’m happy for you two, Bucky!” He said brightly, of course this must be some sort of post confession bliss the two of them were in making his friend act so strange.

“Well that's just the thing. Did you…tell anybody else about it?” He asked, his voice a bit strangled and his tone grim. 

“Uhhh was I not supposed to?” Steve asked, his face falling immediately. 

“Can you answer my question?”

“I told Sam about it. The two of you have been dancing around it for so long that we’re all just a little excited for you.” Steve started to explain but he could practically see the fury radiating off of Bucky in waves. His signature death stare was fixed on him. 

“Look, I really appreciate the um, support for my relationship. But here’s the thing, she doesn’t want anyone to know we’re dating.” He ground out, his teeth still clenched. “So we are going to be low. key.” 

“Look who it is. We were about to put out a missing person alert .” Natasha had slunk her way into the breakfast room, her voice dripping with self satisfied condescension.  “Getting provisions for the love nest?”

“God damn it, you told her too?”  He cried out. She shrugged, innocently looking away. Bucky grabbed his head, he was going to throttle Steve. 

“Oh come on, Y/N loves Nat. I figured she already knew.” Steve held his hands up in surrender, the captain certainly hadn't thought this was how his morning was going to go. Bucky turned his attention back to the super spy who was a bit too pleased with the unfolding drama. 

“Nat, did you tell anyone about this?” 

“Please, I’m a spy. I don’t just go around giving out important gossip with nothing to gain.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Romanoff!” He snapped back. 

“I’m still a bit confused why she doesn’t want anybody to know? Is that a modern dating thing, not telling people you’re dating?” Steve asked. It didn’t make much sense to him, what exactly did she think was going to happen if people found out? 

“She just doesn’t want the gossip and the pressure of everyone knowing about us to color the beginning of our relationship.” Bucky explained but his tone belated his true feelings. He absolutely did not want to keep this a secret. “So I told her I wasn’t going to tell anybody but I forgot I already told the biggest blabbermouth on the team.”  He quickly turned back to anger at his teammates. 

“I’m not the biggest blabbermouth…hm crap wait I forgot, Clint knows too.” Steve closed his eyes, wincing, ready for the smack upside the head he sorely deserved. 

“Loose lips sink ships asshole! ” Bucky was exasperated. 

“I didn’t know this was top secret information!” Steve countered. 

Nat stayed at the breakfast bar watching the two super soldiers argue, it was amusing but she had her limits. She had to intervene before Bucky had an aneurysm. 

“It's not so bad, we can do damage control. Tell Sam and Clint to keep quiet about it.” Nat said before taking a sip of her coffee. “And Wanda.”

“AND WANDA--” Steve looped an arm around Bucky’s waist before he could lunge at Natasha. 

x

Bucky Barnes: Hello Sam,  I am texting to inform you that Y/N and I are NOT DATING and please disbelieve the rumors to the contrary. Yours, Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson: please learn to text like a normal person

Sam Wilson: You know I saw you making out with her in the elevator on Friday right? 

Bucky Barnes is typing…

Bucky Barnes: Sam, please disregard my previous message and meet me in the training gym on level 5 ASAP. Yours, Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson: You don't have to sign your name I know it's you 

Sam Wilson: forget it

Sam Wilson: yeah I’ll be there

X Something wasn’t quite right. Your love life had never been better, Bucky was an amazing boyfriend, it was all you could do to not spend all of your time with him. The two of you would meet up after work hours and spend blissful hours back in Bucky’s apartment. But the rest of your work life, well it was starting to feel like people were avoiding you. 

Like the other day at lunch, you were sitting across from Bucky which wasn’t too unusual, you had been friends before you were seeing each other. The very tips of your shoes were touching, a special little secret way of holding hands. The two of you were discussing movies that were coming out, a totally neutral non flirty conversation. But then Steve walked in, looked at you then immediately spun on his heel and walked away. You furrowed your brow. That was a bit weird.

Or when you had bumped into Bucky at the gym on level 5. It had actually been a happy coincidence, you decided to do some yoga as you sorely needed to stretch your body out after being hunched over a microscope all day.  Bucky had been working out with Sam, Bucky lifting weights with Sam on the treadmill. You waved to the two of them and made your way over to say hi and Sam without saying a word jumped off the treadmill and started to jog out of the gym. 

Even Nat, which hurt the most, flaked on the movie night you’d wanted to have in the TV room. Then it was the domino effect, Steve dropped out then  Wanda and Vis dropped out too and soon it was just You and Bucky. 

“Oh nooo. What are we gonna do, watch the movie by ourselves? Just the two of us?” Bucky whispered in your ear as you were pouring popcorn into a large bowl. He grabbed you by the hips and waggled his eyebrows at you. You let out a little sigh and snatched the bowl before heading to the TV room.  You weren’t in the mood to flirt with him. The tv room was ready for what you had thought would be a big group. The lights were already dimmed and there were plenty of blankets and pillows around. 

You and Bucky settled next to each other on the couch. He grabbed a big fuzzy blue blanket and draped it over the two of your legs. He gave your leg a little squeeze beneath the blanket and winked. You just let out a sigh and grabbed the remote to fire up the Roku. Bucky frowned, this was certainly not what he thought their movie night would be like!

“What’s wrong Bambi? You seem down.” He asked, concerned. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his body. You let him cuddle you, resting your head on his chest 

“It just feels like all of our friends are avoiding me. I mean I thought we were friends. Co-workers I guess, you know I’m not great at reading people.” You sighed and buried your face in his chest. Had you grown more annoying these past few weeks ? He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up so you were looking up at him. 

“Honey, you’re great at reading people, don’t let your insecurity tell you otherwise. I’m not really a people person anyway so I was excited that it was going to be just us. Nobody’s avoiding you I promise. Want to just reschedule this night?” He offered. 

You shook your head. Rescheduling wouldn’t make you feel any better. Besides it was nice to be able to spend time with Bucky out in the open like this.  You still felt like your friends were all acting weird, but you trusted Bucky enough that you decided to let it go. 

“Well since it’s just you and me, we still have to watch The Princess Bride.” You relaxed into the couch, already pulling it up on the screen. 

“Sounds perfect.” 

X

You were working away in the lab, it was a little past lunch time but you simply couldn’t stop in the middle of your project. You could push yourself just a little bit and finish this in time to actually leave at a normal time tonight. You had a date tonight. You smiled to yourself. A secret date.

You were deep in the process, so much so that you didn’t even notice the secret date, arriving hours early in the lab. He gave your sides a squeeze making you yelp. You spun around to see your smirking boyfriend. 

“Bucky! Um, what are you doing here!” you asked, trying not to sound too excited. 

“I'm here to help you out with those samples you had requested from me.” He projected his voice around the lab. But it was for the benefit of no one, you were the only two there. You smiled, happily playing along. 

“Oh right! Those samples I requested.” 

“Those spit samples.” He grabbed the back of your head and crushed his lips to yours in a sloppy wet kiss. You slapped his chest as you pulled away from him giggling.

“Ew! Bucky, that's so gross, why would you say it like that!” But you couldn’t stop giggling. He smiled, clearly feeding off the laughter. 

“You’re the one who wants us to have this clandestine affair, I’m just trying to keep up appearances.” 

“"Why are you even here? You’re a little early.”

“It's my lunch break and I wanted to say hi and give you a kiss.” He took  one of your hands in his. You reached out and grabbed his vibranium hand as well so you were holding both. It made his heart flutter, how unperturbed by his arm you were. When he was with you it was like he was just a normal guy.

“Hi.” He murmured, rubbing his nose against yours. 

“Hi.” you breathed back. This time when your lips met it was sweet and soft. He slowly moved his lips against yours, you opened your mouth just slightly enough that his tongue could slip inside and ---

“So I’m pretty sure the Erskine notes were in here.” It was Bruce! Bucky felt a sudden rush of fear. Bruce wasn’t one of the inner circle who would just pretend not to notice their closeness. They could actually get caught!  

You quickly as hard as you could pushed Bucky away and he clamored backwards. You wiped your mouth, hoping somehow that would disguise yourself. Bruce poked his head in.

“Just looking for the Erskine notes. Uh, everything ok in here?” He took stock of each of you, freshly shoved apart. 

“Yeah, just leaving!” Bucky cried as he raced out of the lab. 

“I’m indifferent to him leaving! I’ll go grab the notes for you Dr. Banner!” You raced to the file cabinet not looking at anything but the ground. 

Bruce cocked his head at the strange interaction he just encountered. 

X

“Good morning Bucky!” You greeted cheerfully as he entered the breakfast room in the morning, Steve and Sam in tow. “Morning Steve! Morning Sam!” You quickly added as they filed in. As not to raise suspicion. 

“I get a good morning? Wow. Don’t I feel special.” Sam said with a smirk. 

“I say good morning to everyone. I’m just a morning person like that. How are you doing Sam? I feel like you’ve been so busy, I barely even see you these days.” You asked, trying to sound casual. You still felt like everyone was acting so weird around you. 

“Oh you know, mission after mission. None of them were in Hawaii either, it's all been Nepal, Siberia, whatever frozen wasteland they can dump me in.” He sat down next to you. You nodded along as he continued talking about his missions, eager to connect with your friend again. 

“Good morning troops. Ah and good morning Beaker. Didn’t think I’d see you this early on a Monday.” Tony Stark, sunglasses still on, his closes wrinkled like he’d just come in off a jet. It had been awhile since he was on at the Compound.  

You hoped you weren’t blushing at the comment. Bucky had talked you into another Sunday night sleepover, you were trying to be subtle about it but you were a morning person, it didn't make sense to pretend to show up later.

‘I didn’t think I’d see you at all Mr. Stark. It's been awhile, since you’ve hunkered down with us mole people in the lab.” You always had a professional but good natured relationship with Tony. He was your boss after all, which is why you found it a little weird to call him Tony. 

Tony let out a chuckle and started to make science small talk, about the lab and the projects you’d been working on. 

Bucky and Tony were not great friends. They had buried the hatchet, sure, but it wasn’t like the two drank beer and watched the game together. Cordial coworkers are best. 

Except Bucky didn't feel very cordial with Tony right now. Considering he had taken the only open seat next to you. He gruffly sat down at the table next to them with his coffee. 

You wanted to invite Bucky to come sit with you, or go over to his table, but that would probably be a bit too much for just friends. You peered over Tony’s shoulder to your grumpy boyfriend darkly having breakfast. You tried not to make it too obvious and still listen to his anecdote about building a mini laser. 

The two of your eyes would catch more often than not. Quickly turning back to whatever they were doing. Tony picked up on this immediately, he looked over his shoulder

“What do you keep looking at?” He spun around to look directly at Bucky who was frozen in place.  “What’s going on here? Are you two fucking or something?”

It was like everything happened all at once.

“Tony -- out of line.” “Uh HR?” “No no no you misunderstand.” “Which one of you told Tony?”

Everyone burst into action, all speaking over each other.  Wait what? You swung your head from pleading with Tony to your secret boyfriend.  The three soldiers froze. Sam took a deep breath. 

“I’ve had enough of this! Nobody told Tony. You two idiots are just so obvious that anyone could see it.” Sam said. As soon as he did Steve let out a huge sigh of relief, his shoulders rolling forward like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.  

“I won’t have this, no way, not on my watch. Y/N. My beloved employee. With Mancurian Candidate? Under my nose, in my own lab?” Tony said indignantly,  putting his hand over his heart as if he was scandalized. 

“Tony! That’s really not very funny. You shouldn’t call him that.” You said your face a hard frown. and Bucky felt his heart burst with happiness. But then your gaze turned to him and he felt your icy stare.

“I--I can explain. You see I had actually texted Steve before we decided to be lowkey. It was before so really if you think about it. I didn’t do anything wrong. And Steve and his big mouth told a few people. But it’s just the people in this room. And Nat. And Clint. And Wanda. But that’s all.”  Bucky tried to explain to you as best he could. His eyes were pleading, he felt weak in the knees. You remained silent, your arms crossed. 

“Yikes, you’re in troooouble.” Tony taunted. 

“So basically everyone! Everyone I see on a daily basis. I can’t believe this. So they’ve all known the whole time?” You looked at Sam and Steve who both sheepishly nodded. You turned back to Bucky, you let out a shaky breath. People knew, and nothing bad had happened. Your friends had actually gone out of their way so you two could have some privacy.  “Well I guess there's no point in keeping this up then.”

“Hm?”

“I'm having breakfast with my boyfriend now, so if you don’t mind gentlemen.” You grabbed your breakfast bowl and moved your chair so you were sitting next to Bucky. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your lap. 

“Ugh, I'm nauseous you two are so fucking cute. Guess that’s my cue.  Come on, Commandos, take a hint.” Tony got up signaling to the other two who also rushed out of the room, more than happy to get out of the tense atmosphere. Once you were completely alone, you finally spoke. 

“I can’t believe everyone knows. Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

 Bucky let out a deep sigh. 

“I mean I kept it a secret from some people. Tony being one of them. I just…I wanted to give you what you wanted. But I mean to be completely honest I did want to tell everyone. I’m all in.”  

“I’m all in too!” You cried clutching his hand and kissing his knuckles. “That's why I wanted to try and slow things down so I couldn’t mess anything up. Now it just all seems so silly. I tried so hard to be sneaky too!” 

He took his hand off yours and gave your thigh a squeeze. 

“I mean…we can still sneak around sometimes. If you want. ” He had a playful glint in his eyes. “I mean, I had plans, Doll, a lot of plans. I was fully prepared to take you on every inch of that lab table.” 

“Sergeant Barnes! ” You gasped. “I think we may be a bit too loud for that level of sneakiness.” He took your chin in his hand and rubbed his thumb down your lip.

“I’m sure we can find a way to keep you quiet.”

[kukekakuningaskris]

SSOL, Bojan, and wishful thinking

aka thoughts on Sunny Side of London and a different view than what the band paints it as - a long ramble that resembles an analysis.

So SSOL has been described by the band as a song that captures and describes their concerts, and that the Sunny Side of London is not a real, physical space and rather something that represents their fandom as well as their concerts. Thus it is seen as a fun upbeat song, meant to raise your mood and feel included in something - to feel as if you are part of something fun. I, however, have a different interpretation of the lyrics.

Since London is known for its bad weather and rain, the title Sunny Side of London feels like it is referencing something that doesn't exist. Something you dream of and wish for, but don't actually have. In this regard, the lyrics are wishful. The lyrics wish for a place in which everyone can be as free as a dove, in which your money, sexuality, gender, skin colour or religion don't matter. Wishing for equality and for a place in which all that matters is your happiness and love for others. Looking at this from the perspective of a wishful dream, the lyrics turn sombre, as if painfully aware that this is not real and the place they yearn for does not exist. The lyrics wish for a sunny London and a beautiful day. But only wish, because it is not real, and is impossible to achieve. Or, like a sunny day in London, could be achieved for just small moments before it's all gone again, and what's left is a depressing and unaccepting place,in which you are not free. A representation of reality.

Additionally, the lyrics are often read and understood as being about the audience the band has - the fans that come to their shows. However, I think that the lyrics are about Bojan himself, much like Barve Oceana is written about himself. In 2021, Bojan said that during their concerts he is free as a bird because he is surrounded by friends who know him well, so he doesn't have to be ashamed of anything. This correlates to the lyrics of SSOL that are about hugging your best friend, being as free as a dove, and nothing except happiness and love mattering. In the same interview he said that when he is on stage he never feels like he doesn't belong or that he doesn't know what he is doing there. That is to say, the stage was a safe place for him - his own sunny side of London.

When looking at the recently shared image of the early version of SSOL lyrics, it seems like Bojan himself is even more present in the song than in the final lyrics. Overall, these lyrics are more personal to the band. The earlier version uses a lot of 'we' and 'us', while the published lyrics only use 'you'. This shows that while the finished song is aimed toward the listener, the first versions also included the band itself in the people who were at the sunny side of London. With lines like "It's a place for people like me and you / So if you feel like joining us too" it is clear that this is Bojan himself speaking, and he is also looking for the sunny side of London.

This takes a more depressing turn when considering when the lyrics were written. The song was written in August of 2023, less than a month after the concert during which Bojan suffered a panic attack. He has later said that since the incident the stage hasn't felt as comfortable to him, and that he has lost his safe space. Paired with the idea of the sunny side of London being something unreachable and wishful thinking, it seems as if the lyrics are mourning the loss of the safe space Bojan had. The lyrics are hopeful, aggressively so, as if trying to find a place of freedom while knowing that it is just a dream, and that the reality is much harsher. It seems like Bojan was trying to dream up a place in which he would feel safe and accepted, since in reality he had lost that.

In conclusion, reading the lyrics of the song as if the sunny side of London was something that didn't exist, the lyrics seem depressing, as if knowing such a good and accepting place could never exist. It also reveals Bojan's struggle with trying to feel comfortable on a stage again, since the lyrics seem to be for (if not about) himself.

[charlidos]

Viggo has published two of the photos he took of Orlando (I'm sure there are plenty more. For instance that "best photo ever taken of Orlando" from getting lost in the rainforest... Will it ever be published? Fear it won't).

Elf Head is dated 1999, and in my mind this was taken very early on after Viggo arrived in NZ, October 1999. If you look at other clips and pics of Orlando in his mohawk hairdo, I don't see that long patch of hair in the neck like in this pic. It's a more extreme version here, less polished. So maybe this was an early version of the 'do.

According to what I've understood, the first scenes with Legolas didn't start shooting until after a week or so of shooting, so I think Orlando hadn't started filming anything when Viggo arrived on set (and started filming from the get go). I think they tinkered with Legolas' costume and wig for a bit at that time. For instance, I'm not sure what that collar is in the pic. Does it look like something Legolas wears in the films? In other words, I think the decision to have a mohawk might have coincided with Viggo's arrival on set. And I think this photo was taken very early on, maybe the first weeks of filming.

According to Orlando, it was Liv who suggested the style, as they'd realised that he'd need to remove most of his hair in order to facilitate putting on the Legolas' wig. But if Viggo had already arrived at this point, maybe he had something to do with it; maybe he even suggested it, and Liv thought it was a great idea.

Viggo used to be a part of the LA punk scene, via his marriage to one of its stars. I don't know to what extent he felt like a part of that scene back then, but I imagine Viggo was not only used to wild styles, hair and dress, but was perhaps rather fond of it. Finding a co-star with such an punk-ish style probably appealed to him a great deal.

Because I see a fascination in this photo. And it's not with Orlando's face, but with the hairstyle, the strange contrast of hair and pointy ears, the form of that skull and neck. Maybe he was intrigued by the contradiction of Orlando's very pretty face and the unruly, almost-ugly hair flap and strange ears.

The title "elf head" is a bit unexpected, considering the only thing even close to elvish about this portrait, is the ears. Certainly, no elf would ever have such hair, right? Unless it's a punk-elf. But maybe Viggo thought Orlando looked like a beautiful elf, no matter what hairstyle.

This photo was taken sometime in 2000, but there's no way to tell exactly when, I think. They filmed so many battles, so who knows which one. Maybe Helm's Deep, with those long, arduous weeks of night shoots, when they must have spent so much time with each other, when no one else in the main cast was even awake. There's this feeling of being in the dark in this photo, or in a twilight of sorts.

Again, there's a sense of fascination here; with the beauty of Legolas the elf, and the transformation from Orlando, the young, pretty, energetic, sweet young man to Legolas, old, wise, calm and focused. Viggo is an artist, so I imagine he's got a sense of beauty when he sees it.

There's also a sense of intimacy, like we're intruding, like we are in Orlando's mirror. Considering they shared a make-up trailer all that time, sitting beside each other, getting ready, not only for battle but for everything, it must have seemed, at times, quite intimate. Orlando studying Viggo, fascinated. And obviously, Viggo studied Orlando back, also fascinated.

I wonder if the photo was spontaneous or staged; did Viggo just catch Orlando putting in Legolas' eyes, like Orlando did every day, or did Viggo decide this was a shot he wanted and asked Orlando to pose?

I can read the added text two ways: full awe and respect, like Orlando really is transforming into Legolas, a fearsome warrior to be reckoned with. Or like it's slightly teasing: to point out the irony of this fey, lithe creature being able to fight orchs. Kind of like you'd pretend to scared of a little kid, acting like a scary monster.

After a discussion with @vamp-ress, I realised something else: these two pics have one particular thing in common, namely that they catch that twilight moment between reality and fiction. That moment when O is still O, but is about to become Legolas (or the other way around). That moment when he's neither completely O, nor completely Legolas. A transitional moment of blur between the two worlds. I imagine this is what caught Viggo's eye, that transformation.

Now, Viggo please show us the rest of your Orlando stash, I know you've got plenty!

And I'm sure Orlando does too..

[bearsintreesofficial]

a recreation of a sonic fanfiction i wrote when i was 10

ok y'all, some context is needed.

we have a song called cassiopeia coming out tonight. i made a tiktok that said if the sound for cassiopeia is used 100 times, i'll publish the sonic fanfiction i wrote when i was 10 that i joke about a lot but have never shared. anyway, this happened in an hour. i am shocked. i did not expect it to happen so quickly, if at all. i begin my search.

well, it turns out i can't publish it because the places it was published no longer exist, and 10 y/o me didn't back it up (although i thought i had). bummer. an early internet relic gone.

either way, the plot details are seared into my memory because honestly? for some reason, that small act of creativity was a core memory in my life. so while i can't share it, i can retell it, because it's silly and pretty accurately captures what it's like to be 10 and obsessed with a piece of popular media. so here goes.

enjoy, and stream our new single cassiopeia tonight.

SCENE OPENS

the fanfiction was about a page long. the story opens with me - in school, as i did most every day of my life up to that point. in the story, sonic/tails/knuckles live in the human world, and essentially function as superheroes. there's no explanation for it, they just are there keeping the earth safe and such. we are also friends. there is no explanation or backstory for that either.

with the setting established, we're straight into the action; an alien pod crash lands in our school playground after school. me and my friend are the only kids left. where are the teachers? who knows. as is evident, worldbuilding was not my strong point.

anyway, in this alien pod is...an alien. it was a spider that looked a lot like the facehuggers from the alien film franchise, because i'd seen a clip of that as a kid and it freaked the hell out of me. i call sonic (where did i get a mobile phone from?) and let him know something Serious is going down. sonic and tails arrive - knuckles is too busy trying to get the master emerald back from doctor robotnik in this instance.

my friend and i take a back seat and let sonic and tails deal with the weird alien thing. they deal with one, but as soon as they get rid of it 10 other capsules drop in the area. sonic and tails can't take them all, so me and my friend join in to help take them out. i didn't really account for how, but we're fighting all back to back and it's very epic. (sonic x was the prevailing sonic show at the time, and it was y'know - very dramatic. so this was like a scene from that.) tails even brings in the tornado two, his personal plane, to run rings around them. after we finish the final facehugger alien off, a final alien pod descends. but out of this pod emerges...

shadow the hedgehog.

the aliens had been sent by him, and he was here to take sonic down. this was all part of his master plan.

the piece then ended, because i suppose i was going to follow it up at some point. but alas, that did not happen.

moral(s) of the story:

archive the silly stuff you wrote when you were a kid, it'll be fun to look back on later.

stream our new song, cassiopeia. it has nothing to do with any of this, but i think it's neat regardless.

thank you.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m writing a story about a lady with Down Syndrome. I was wondering if you knew where I can find any resources about Down Syndrome made by people who actually have it, or any organisations that would be good to follow. Any resources made by people with intellectual disability would be really helpful as well.

I read your post about this and it was really helpful so thank you, I’m going to use it as a starting point for my research.

If you’d like some context about the story she’s literally a lady in the 1920s who’s trying to get control of her family’s estate from her brother. Shes underestimated for her disabilities and for being a women but I’m trying to not focus so much on the discrimination and work more on giving her an interesting mystery to solve with the detective she hired. I’d like it to be a bit lighthearted. Anyway, as she’s a main character I really wanted to make sure I wrote her well. Thanks!

Hey!

There aren't many resources out there unfortunately, but there is a page on the UK Down Syndrome's Association's website where members with DS share their opinions on representation in TV and film. You can read it here. For info on intellectual disability in general the best I can do is link some of my previous posts on it - there's close to nothing that's actually made by us unfortunately, everything that I was able to find is always made by someone who knows a person with ID at best. To be clear, not all of it is bad - I thought this interview (TW for abuse that happens in the movie's plot) about a movie starring actors with DS was pretty good - but it's still a sign that we aren't getting enough #OwnVoices representation. It's slowly changing though.

To learn more about DS I would probably recommend NDSS, it's one of the very few orgs that have people with Down Syndrome as board and team members (should be the bare minimum, but it unfortunately isn't). There's also information on things like preferred language and myths that often show up around Down Syndrome.

I'm not great with history, but in the 1920s she would be a subject to a lot more than just discrimination. Eugenics and institutionalization would definitely be present. Not sure what route you'll take there, but basically all the words around that time that she would be described with are currently considered slurs or pejoratives. The racist term for a person with Down Syndrome was officially used into the 60s, and the ableist one is still used legally in 2024. But if you want to skip past that, I think that's more than fine. You don't always have to aim for 100% historical accuracy, just be aware of the real history.

A detective story sounds very exciting. If you decide to publish it on Tumblr or other online site feel free to send me an ask with a link, I'd love to read it.

Thank you for the ask,

mod Sasza

I’m just popping in as a history fan for a couple bits of history notes — but again, like Sasza said, you don’t have to be 100% historically accurate if you don’t want to and if you don’t feel it’s necessary.

So, especially in the first half of the 1900s, a large part of disabled children, including children with Down Syndrome, were institutionalized very early in their life. Around this time the push that immorality caused disability was strong, and people were often convinced by doctors and professionals that the children’s needs would always be too much for them. Eugenicism was sort of reaching a peak around this time, as well—I would say it was at its most intense in the period of 1900-1940s.

Not all parents institutionalized their children, though. There was pressure to do so, but that doesn’t mean everyone fell victim to it. There wasn’t really any official support for parents who did this, and there weren’t official organizations for Down Syndrome. From my research, the current large DS organizations seem to have popped up in the 60s.

The term ‘Down Syndrome’ wasn’t in popular use until the 70s, and it wasn’t known that it’s caused by an extra chromosome until 1959.

Life expectancy in 1900-1920 for people born with Down Syndrome was 9 years old. Some of this could absolutely have been due to conditions in institutions, but likely even more relevant is that about 50% of people with DS are born with heart defects (also known as congenital heart disease) that can be fatal if not treated with surgery. Heart surgery wasn’t really feasible until the late 30s and early 40s. Another risk factor is a higher risk for infection, which isn’t easy to manage in a world that doesn’t yet have antibiotics.

I actually wanted to find pictures of adults with Down Syndrome pre-1940ish, though, to see real tangible evidence of adults being part of a community. First I found just one picture of a baby in 1925 on this Minnesota government website. But then I found a collection someone made of photos of both children and young adults, but they are not specifically dated. The first baby picture is from the 30s according to the poster!

Judging by the clothes I see people wearing in these photos, photo #4 (man with Down Syndrome in a suit next to a woman) seems to be from the 20s and photo #13 (young woman with Down Syndrome and very long hair) seems to be from about the 1910s. #18 (large family with a lot of sons, including one boy with Down Syndrome) could be from the 30s. Those three are the oldest people with DS in the photos, and they seem like young adults. A lot of these pictures show a community and aren’t just isolated kids, which I find nice.

It’s hard to find specific historical record of people with Down Syndrome from that period of time, but I wanted to show photos of real people in their communities to show, hey look! They were there, too!

Either way, I love detective stories and historical fiction and I’m glad you’re writing a story and that you care about your character’s portrayal but I totally know the feeling of that tricky balance between historical accuracy and modern acknowledgement that we should have been doing better.

— Mod Sparrow

[russellsppttemplates]

I'm with you all the way (Mick Schumacher)

Baby Aurora is ready to make her entrance to the world

Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that I hope you enjoy (I've had this one planned for a bit and I'm so happy I'm finally publishing it)! Also, of you're looking for more pieces of dad!Mick, I also have some pieces on my masterlist where they become a family of four and some other moments too! (You can read the latest one here!)

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy and childbirth

Your night routine, especially when Mick was home, had turned into a ritual that he would not do without. Like so, you were laying on the bed already, having done your skincare and brushed your teeth, your loose pyjama top resting just under your boobs while Mick also got ready.

Grabbing the bottle of bump oil, he dosed the right amount on this hands and spread the product on your skin, "you know, today was the last day at the factory before winter break, and everyone was hoping you'd pay them a visit as soon as it was possible. And you got some gifts too, we now have a few team onesies for you, and they also said they would get a pair of headphones ready for when you attend your first race", he smiled kissing the skin above your belly button, "I'm sure that's going to be an eventful day", you chipped in. This routine had been pretty early on and it always allowed Mick to feel closer to his babygirl. He would usually tell her all about his day, random thoughts he had and discussions you would have about certain topics, "did you feel okay today?", he asked, laying his head near your bump but looking up at you, "yes, I mean, at this stage there's always a degree of discomfort, but I've been okay. Spent most of the day changing a few things around and I also cooked a big batch of food to put in the freezer", you added, brushing his blond hairs with your fingers.

You think you managed to sleep about four hours until you were woken up from the pain on your hips and your lower back. They were once than cramps but still tolerable, yet they were keeping you from sleeping all way through the night. They became a lot more frequent, around forty minutes between each of them, leaving you like you were standing on a tightrope: you'd be woken up from the pressure, it would relieve and you'd do your best to fall asleep, only to be woken up by the pressure again and repeat the cycle.

By the time morning rolled around, Mick woke up at his regular hour, turning to face you, "good morning, liebling", he croaked out, his hand landing on your bump with soft strokes, "morning, my love", you yawned, "I did not sleep all that well, I think I might cut out of watching you work out today", you apologised, "it's okay. Take sometime to rest, yeah?", he cuddled you for a little, "but what happened?".

Appreciating the way his body heat was feeling against your skin, you snuggled further into him, fingers tracing shapes on his chest, "I have this pressure on my hips and lower back, I don't even know if they're contractions. In my head, it makes sense that I would feel those in my belly, right? Because of how the baby is coming out? I don't know, I just know I barely slept", you pouted, feeling Mick's lips on your forehead, "maybe it's just some Braxton-Hick contractions", he mumbled, moving his hand to soothe the areas you had complained about.

When you got up to use the toilet in hopes of going back to bed when you noticed some blood, making you finish your business and meet Mick in the home gym, "I thought you were going to sleep? Are you alright?", he wondered, not expecting to see you there, "I had a tiny bit of blood on my underwear and I have just texted my OB about it, maybe it is my mucous plug? And those were in fact real contractions, so maybe there's that", you told him, "but I feel fine, like any other day, Rora has kicked and everything, no now we just wait", you finished, grabbing a comfy chair you had in the gym for the purpose of sitting while your husband worked out. A lovely view, one might had.

"What did she say?", Mick questioned as he set the weight back on the stand, having heard the notification on your phone going off, "she is advising that we go to the hospital to get checked out, and that she'll call me later", you read, setting your phone down, "so maybe after this, we have breakfast and then you pack the rest of your things?", you suggested, earning a nod from Mick, "I can finish now, there's no need to-", your husband began tidying up, "no need for that. I'm feeling fine, genuinely. And, besides, you were just going to do some squats, right? Mama wants to see that", you giggled, tapping his butt when he walked past you, shaking his head from side to side at your comment.

Despite the initial hurry Mick felt, you were able to do things like you normally would, commenting many times how you actually felt pretty okay and if you should really go to the emergency room, "better be safe than sorry, liebling", Mick offered as he finished putting the last things on his hospital bag, "I'm packed, do you need me to get you anything from upstairs?", he asked one last time before he went upstairs to get the phone chargers.

When you go the hospital, you went straight to the CTG room where they would monitor the contractions and the baby's heartrate, talking to Mick and every healthcare professional that walked in time to time just to check that everything was okay, "is it painful?", your husband asked, "a little bit of pain comes whenever I feel the pressure, but other than that, it's the same as any day", you explained, squeezing his hand that was holding yours.

When the doctor on call looked at the paper that was coming out of the machine, she decided to do an observational exam, "your cervix is still in a posterior position, and it's closed still. You are in early labour, yes, and you did very well in coming here today, but this is going to take a few days. You've only had two contractions while you were here as well. So maybe next week something should occur", she smiled.

"Is there anything we can do now?", Mick asked, a little bit more relieved that everything was fine, "just take this time to rest", she offered, bidding you goodbye as you, too, made your way back home.

Back home, you and Mick spent the afternoon in the sofa, only getting up when you needed the bathroom or when you wanted to eat or drink water, Angie cuddled up next to you. While the pain remained at the same tolerable level, it was around dinner time that you began to feel it around every 20 minutes.

The night had proven to be even harder. If you had only slept a little bit the previous night, tonight you couldn't sleep at all. The contractions were coming along every four to ten minutes, and the pain had increased significantly. You went to sleep at ten at night, given your tiredness, and now three hours later, you were past the point of not wanting to bother Mick, "Mick, my love, wake up please", you called, shaking his body softly and firmly at the same time, seeing him open his eyes, "what's wrong?", he croaked out, "I can't sleep because the pain just got a lot lot worse, and I don't think I can be here. And I'm probably in labour", you muttered between another contraction, "let's go then", he said, getting up and helping you up too, putting on something a little more decent other than pyjama shorts and a sleeping gown for you.

The bags had ready been in the car from your trip this morning, making Mick only grab the chargers and head out with you, "Angie, mama is going to the hospital, and by the looks of it, your sister will be home soon", you held the dog's snout on your hands before kissing her, almost noticing weariness in her eyes, after all, her humans were not usually up at this time of the day. "Shall we go then?", Mick asked, guiding you to the car after petting the dog's head.

Driving to the hospital was fine, your body recoiling a little bit whenever you felt another contraction, "we're nearly there, liebling", your husband conforted, his hand squeezing yours on top of your thigh. Sensing his worry, you looked to calm him down a little, "Hey,", you squeezed him hand back , "So far everything is good, and we're finally gonna meet this little lady. So until we have to, let's not worry, okay?", you finished as he parked near the entrance of the hospital, "I can walk from here".

Mick flashed you his dashing smile, leaving his side and going around the car to help you out once he put on the backpack and slung the other bag over his shoulder, "Let's go then", he said, somehow managing to lock the car and support your lower back, along with the bags, along to the door.

Your midwife, Caroline, was already waiting for you at the entrance, "I was just going to ask if you needed help, but you look like you're just fine!", the older women exclaimed once she saw Mick, "perks of being an athete, I guess", he chuckled nervously, "where do we sign in?", he asked once he sat you in one of the wheelchairs as comfortable as you could be.

"Hi liebling, how are you handling it?", he asked as soon as he walked inside the room after filling in all the paperwork, seeing you already in a hospital gown and your OB typing things on her iPad, "I'm good, they're getting stronger, but I'm handling it, I think", you smiled, happy to have him back with you. "Hi, everyone. Sorry, I just came in and didn't even greet everyone", he blushed, "That's okay, don't worry. Like I said to Y/N, she is 4 fingers dilated, so this little one is coming out today", she smiled, "if you need anything, please call someone, okay?", she said before herself and the rest of the team eventually left you two in the room.

"I hate seeing you like this", Mick mumbled against your skin, kissing your sweaty forehead, "it's part of the job, but yes, if there was a way I could give you some of this discomfort, I would give you since you're offering", you said back, chuckling a little before groaning at another contraction, opening your eyes when it finished when you noticed two yoga balls, "I want to go on the ball, I want to try it", you pointed, your husband promptly helping you to do so and grabbing the second one so he could sit and be at your eye level, "I love you, Y/N", he said once he got comfortable, holding your hands in his as you rocked your hips from side to side, "I love you too, so much, Mick. We're finally going to meet our babygirl", you said, "we are, my love. And it's all because of you", he recognised, gulping when he saw you bracing yourself for another contraction, "it took the two of us to do the deed", you attempted to pull a smile out of him, failing by a small margin as only the corners of his lips lifted up and smiled a tight lipped one, "yet you're the one-", he attempted but you shushed him, "None of that. You're being amazing, and I would like some kisses and I don't fancy them if they're not from you", you smirked, seeing him smile a genuine one this time.

Later, you wanted to move to the bed as the tiredness began washing over your body. If this was what happened after two sleepless night, the newborn phase was going to be interesting to go through.

"Here, careful, I'll call someone, yes?", Mick said, the crease between his eyebrows back on his handsome face. The room door opened and Caroline walked in, "how are we doing, Y/N?", she asked softly, approaching you, "I'm okay-ish, they're picking up now, like a lot", you mentioned, "Mick was just about to call someone", you yelped.

"It's 5 am, so you could be going along well. Let me check you, please", she urged, helping you scoot down down on the bed, "okay, you're about 8 to 9 fingers dilated, good job Y/N!".

"You're doing so well, liebling", he mumbled against your skin, "I'm going to check with the OB, but looking how this is going, you should expect to be wheeled into the birthing room in an hour or so", she smiled, typing the new informations on her iPad before leaving you two.

You opened your arms, your husband taking the hint immediately and sitting on the edge of the be, one leg next to your while the other supported him on the floor, his hands soothing your pains around your hips and back area, "does your bump hurt?", he asked as he scattered a few kissed everywhere he could reach, "I don't think I can tell apart the areas where it hurts, it's just my whole torso", you said and immediately regretted it, sensing his tension grow at his helplessness, "but your hands are doing a good job at distracting me, and I appreciate that a lot", you soothed him, hopefully, the feel of his fingers and his scent calming your own body despite everything that was going on.

Between shared affections, words of encouragement and even a video call from Corinna, the time came for you to be wheeled into the birthing room, doctors and nurses ready to.

Your body was urging you to push and you complied. Holding Mick's hand, he helped your support your torso when your strenght was giving out, "C'mon, Y/N, you're doing an incredible job!", Caroline urged you while Mick mumbled into your ear, "a few more pushes and Aurora will be here with us", he encouraged, "you're doing so well, my love, I'm amazed at you".

It took you three big pushes until your baby girl was out in the world. Leaning back against the pillow, you felt Mick kiss the side of your head until your senses focused on the new noise, a high pitch scream from your daughter, "she's here, Y/N, congratulations mama and papa", Caroline said as she placed the baby on your chest.

A head full of blond hair, the softest of chubby cheeks ever and eyes wide open just taking in the world around her, quietly calming down as soon as she felt your skin on her. You briefly looked at Mick and, like you, tears were running down his face as he kept caressing your shoulders and whispering praises and "thank you"s on your ear, his finger coming up to touch his daughter's soft cheek.

"Look at her, she's so tiny", you whispered, kissing the top of her head and looking at your husband again, kissing his lips chastely while the medical team waited for you to deliver the placenta, checking if everything was going like it was supposed to.

After a few minutes of admiring her, Caroline approached you, "you're all set, Y/N, everything looks good and it should heal nicely. Now, we need to take this little lady to check everything with her, okay?", she asked as one of the nurses held out her arms, making your extend your own so she could grab her.

Mick looked at you like you hung the moon and the stars just for him on a regular basis, but at that moment, it was more than that. You gave him the start of his own family, a little girl who had captured his heart the moment you told him you were expecting and new opportunities to form memories.

"I love you so much. Thank you for not letting me give up", you whispered and you kissed his hand that was caressing your cheek and brushing the hairs out of your eyes, "You've made me a father, there's, again, no words to thank you for that".

Seeing your husband holding the baby your love created really was a whole thing. Hormones were flying around since you had given birth, and now back in the room, watchinh your husband being the most attentive ever to your little girl was the last drop. While Caroline checked your vitals and made sure everything was healing nicely, you couldn't stop looking at Mick walking around with Aurora tucked into his chest, his hands holding her against him while he spoke soflty, "and after Opa Michael, there's Oma Corinna, she has been so excited since she knew you were coming, she's going to be enamoured of you, I just know it. I think she's making her way here, actually", he smiled as he turned to you, seeinh you nod, "they're going to spoil you so much, little one", he said before placing a kiss on top of his daughter's head.

"Do you want to do some skin to skin with her? Babies enjoy it a lot, especially when they're this young", Caroline pointed out.

There, that was the last straw, "sure!", Mick said enthusiastically, settling the baby on your chest so he could take his shirt off, "there we go", Caroline helped him place his hands around her small body. And that was a sight you would happily watch all day, every single day, making you grab your phone so you could save the moment forever, "you're both very enamoured with your little one, as expected, so I'm going to leave you. Call if you need anything", Caroline excused herself.

"You know, I'm very happy that she's here safe and sound, but I'm also very happy that my body is preventing me from having another kid right away because right now it sounds great, even though my rational self also knows it would be crazy, doable, but crazy", you mused, looking at Mick and seeing him watch you, "and as I was saying, because mama seems to have forgotten that there are little ears in the room, me and mama are sure to love on you any moment of your life, that is a promise we've made long ago and that we intend to keep forever", he gulped, looking back at you to kiss your forehead, "rest up a little bit, liebling, me and Rora are going to catch up".

[andreafmn]

Collision | Chapter 23

Word Count: 4.4K Warnings: medical procedures, death

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: goodness me, I know it's been forever since I've updated anything. I've been in a bit of a mental rut and nothing was coming to me, but I'm finishing up a couple of updates so I'll definitely be publishing a few things this week. Also, please don't hate me for updating the less loved Twilight fic. Speak is coming soon 🫣🫣 also also, new character 👀👀

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(Y/N) knew it had been too quiet for too long.

Well, not entirely quiet.

After the encounter with Laurent in the woods, his friend Victoria had shown up. The vampire had gone through hitchhikers in Forks like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. It had the sheriff station in Forks and La Push on high alert. There were too many bodies and not enough explanations—at least none that could be known by the public.

The pack had already doubled their efforts during their patrols, doing all in their power to run the redhead out of their land while protecting the Swan duo in theirs. They had lost sleep and had been overworked for weeks. The vampire had bested them in every move, taunting the pack with her swift and calculated moves.

But the important thing was that Bella was safe, and she seemed to be getting better. At least for the past couple of weeks, she had been better. That’s what (Y/N) thought until she got a call one early March morning.

“What do you mean Bella knows about you?” (Y/N) said through gritted teeth. “And it happened a week ago? Why am I just finding out? I literally talked to her before spring break started.”

“It seems Jacob hinted to the stories she used to hear when she was a kid,” Sam sighed. “Gotta give it to the kid. He really found a workaround the rules. I was gonna tell you as soon as it happened, but you had your exams and everything, so no one wanted to worry you with it.”

“How did she take it? Is everyone okay?”

“Well, Jake and Paul had a little row because Bella blamed us for Jacob keeping his distance from her,” her brother chuckled. “And, well, Paul got a bit mouthy, and Bella ended up slapping him—at least, attempting to—which cause him to get angry and phase. Subsequently Jacob phased to protect her. They’re both fine now and Bella knows everything.”

“And no rules were broken I suppose,” (Y/N) sighed. “But Bella now knows about wolves and vampires and somehow is back in the center of all supernatural danger. Isn’t this all just great?” 

“This is gonna sound harsh, but I prefer her being hunted than you, (Y/N),” Sam admitted. “I know we can protect you in our land, but this one is ruthless and relentless. I would hate for her to have your scent.”

“Well, she doesn’t, thankfully,” she said. “Don’t think she even had my description since you killed her friend. But I thought we were gonna be more proactive when sharing information now.”

“I know, but I wanted you to at least pass that test first,” he confessed. “Look at you now, on your first week as a student doctor.”

“I still can’t believe it’s happening,” (Y/N) exclaimed. “I don’t know what spirits are looking out for me, but it’s almost unbelievable that I’ve been able to do any of this. It takes months for Step 1 to be revised and for college credits to go through. But I’m knocking on wood that these miracles keep happening like this. Might just become the youngest doctor in Washington.”

“If there’s anyone who could do it, it had to be my genius sister.”

“Thanks for the flattery, it does me well in the mornings,” she chuckled. “But I do have to get into work soon. So, thank you for this new information. I will call Bella and see how she’s doing after my shift.”

“Alright, sounds good, Dr. Uley.”

“I like how that sounds,” she beamed. “I’ll see you after work. Bye, Sam.”

“Bye, Dr. Uley.”

When (Y/N) entered the hospital that morning, she believed it would be another routine day. A couple of flu cases, possibly some broken bones in the ER, maybe even a more pressing case. But she had not expected to see Harry Clearwater coming through the doors of the emergency room, Sue trailing close behind.

“(Y/N), I’m gonna need you on this one,” Dr. Mollins, the ER attending, called. “Let’s move the patient to Trauma 1. Talk to me.”

“We’ve got a man in his mid to late 50s showing signs of a severe myocardial infarction,” the paramedic said as he pushed the gurney into the building. “He went into cardiac arrest during transport, but we were able to regain sinus rhythm. He was administered two milligrams of epi.”

(Y/N) felt stuck in her spot, her limbs frozen as the familiar faces moved past her. She had seen her fair share of emergencies during her time at the hospital and her past internships. But seeing someone that she knew completely defenseless and unconscious shot ice through her veins.

“Dr. Uley!” Mollins called her again. “I need you here, now!” 

“Yes, o-of course,” the young woman stammered as she felt her brain finally jumpstart. She sent Sue an apologetic smile as she walked through the curtain that separated Harry’s room from the rest of the beds. “I’m here.”

As soon as she slid the curtain behind her, (Y/N), Eden Mollins, and a nurse started to examine Harry. His blood was extracted, his pulse and his blood pressure were taken, his lungs were listened to, and his temperature was taken. All the while, the man remained unconscious, and (Y/N) prayed to whatever was out there that he at least opened his eyes.

Every second that passed, the girl’s breath hitched in her throat. All she could do was think back at the summers she would spend in the Clearwaters home, running around with Seth and Leah while Harry watched over them, how he and Billy would gather all the kids around the bonfire to tell them stories about the ancestors, how he watched over her and Sam when her father had decided to disappear from their lives.

“I wanna run an EKG and an Echo on the patient,” Eden instructed. “And call in a CT and a chest MRI. The patient is still unconscious, so…”

“Harry,” (Y/N) choked out. “His name is Harry.”

“Excuse me?”

“The patient’s name is Harry,” she restated. “Harry Clearwater.”

“Do you know the pa… Mr. Clearwater, Uley?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You have to tell me right now if that will impair your treatment of the patient today, Uley,” the doctor said. “I cannot have you freeze like you did.”

“Good,” he nodded. “He seems stable for now, so go out there and get some background from the wife. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright then.”

The doctor slid the curtains open to reveal a teary-eyed Sue. Once he was gone, (Y/N) allowed herself to throw her arms around the woman, wrapping her in a tight, warm hug as she whispered how sorry she was. “What happened, Sue?” she whispered. “What caused this? He seemed fine last week.”

“Oh gods, (Y/N), it was just too much for him,” the woman sniffled. “It was Leah. She phased.”

“W-what? Leah shifted into a wolf? How is that possible?”

“That’s not all. The second Harry was down, Seth phased too,” she added. “He said only boys turned into wolves, (Y/N). How could it be that Leah is one too?”

“I could not tell you, Sue,” (Y/N) breathed. “This is just as new to me as it is to you. But what could have triggered the change in Leah? I don’t get it. Thought there were normally signs.”

“Well, she had been acting out a lot recently, and her body started changing dramatically. I thought she was just being a normal moody teenager and that maybe she was going through a second puberty,” Sue sighed. “But this morning, we were arguing about how horrible her mood swings had been, and she just exploded. One second, my daughter was standing before us. And the next, there was a grey wolf breaking through our couch. The shock sent Harry down. His heart just couldn’t take it—you know he’s always had trouble with it. Then, Seth—poor thing—seeing his father go down got so anxious that he shifted too. I tried calling Sam after I called 911, but Emily told me he was out with his wolves chasing that leech out of the forest. “It was all so sudden, (Y/N),” the woman cried, taking (Y/N)’s offered hand. “She ran out the door with Seth behind and I couldn’t stop them. I had to get Harry to the hospital.”

“Oh, Sue, that’s just horrible,” the girl said. “I can’t believe that happened.”

“Tell me, (Y/N). Is it bad? Is Harry gonna be okay?”

(Y/N) took in a steadying breath as she braced herself to tell one of the people who had essentially raised her that her husband was not showing good signs. How could she speak those words when she didn’t want to believe them herself? “Look, Sue, I can’t lie to you. Things are not looking good,” she explained. “With his age, his pre-existing condition, and the severity of this episode, it’s still too early to tell. We need him to wake up in order to assess the situation fully. If not…”

“I know,” Sue interjected. “I just don’t know what I would do without him.”

“Okay, let’s not go there just yet, Sue,” (Y/N) stammered. “Why don’t you call someone to be with you while we run labs? I wouldn’t want you to be alone right now.”

“Don’t worry about me, (Y/N),” she softly smiled. “I already called Charlie and Billy. They’re on their way here already.”

“Good. I’m gonna go check on his labs. If you need anything or need me here, just let one of the nurses know and they’ll page me right back.”

“That’s alright, (Y/N). I know you’re busy.”

When she left the room, (Y/N) finally felt like she could breathe. But there was a nagging in the deepest corners of her head that was telling her that something bad was going to go down. Yet, she wanted to listen to the rational side of her brain. Harry was in the best place to receive treatment if another episode were to happen. She had to trust that they would be able to help him. She simply had to.

The girl busied herself with other patients’ labs and filing anything that kept her as far away from Harry’s results as possible. She couldn’t face another loss so quickly. Not yet. She wasn’t sure if her heart could take it.

During her short life, (Y/N) had faced too many grievances that had forced her to grow up too quickly. Her father had walked out of her life when she was too young, and she needed him the most, forcing her mother to spend too much time at work and too little time at home. Most of the time, it was only Sam and her at home dealing with their schoolwork and food. Then, right as they were learning how to be the dynamic duo, she was accepted at St. Agustine Prep, and she had to learn how to be by herself for the better part of four years. After, she met the man she thought would be her future, and he ripped her heart apart like it hadn’t been fragile to begin with. Sadness was simply a part of (Y/N)’s existence, but she didn’t think there was more she could take.

(Y/N) prayed quietly. She prayed harder than she ever had before in her life. She didn’t know to what exactly, but she prayed.

And yet, the universe rarely played things out in the way she wanted.

The young woman was on her way to greet Billy Black and Charlie Swan when a loud ringing alarm called her attention. It was the soundtrack of despair, the theme song of disappointment, and the last thing (Y/N) wanted to hear. Her legs started moving before she could think twice, setting off for Harry’s room. There, the flatlining sound filled her ears, mixed with Sue’s pleas for help as nurses pulled her aside to allow the doctors to work.

“The patient’s coding, Uley,” Eden called out. “Start compressions. This is your call.”

(Y/N) was already on Harry before Mollins had finished his sentence. Her full attention was on her counts, pressing on his chest like she had been taught to do. One, two, three, four, all the way to thirty before the nurse administered air pumps. Then again, and again.

“Push one milligram of epi,” (Y/N) called out, not stopping her compressions for another three minutes. “Check rhythm.” 

As she removed her hands, the screen showed a red line once more, and that pesky sound filled the room again. “Still asystole,” Eden said. “Push another milligram and clear for defib.” 

(Y/N) continued her work as sweat formed on her forehead. She pushed into the man’s chest at a steady pace, even when she felt her limbs wanted to give out. Her legs trembled under her, and her heart hammered loudly against her chest, but she couldn’t stop. Even after two defibrillations that yielded no results, the girl kept administering compressions.

“Uley, it’s time to call it,” Mollins whispered softly at the young doctor. “It’s been over thirty minutes.” 

“No!” (Y/N) exclaimed. Beads of sweat were falling down her face and mixing with her tears, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Not for Harry. “I’ve gotta keep going!” 

“(Y/N),” Eden called her, taking hold of her wrists and forcing her gaze to break from the man. “It’s time to call it.”

“I can’t,” she trembled as she fell onto the doctor. “He can’t…” 

But the consistent sound of a flatline killed her words. That was it. Her first patient was gone, and it was someone she had looked up to like a father. Despite all of her efforts, he was gone, and there was nothing else she could do about it.

“Time of death: 1542,” the doctor called to the nurse before turning back to the crumbling girl. “You did everything you could, (Y/N). You did everything right.”

“But he’s gone,” she cried. “He’s gone, and I could’ve done more.”

“No. There was nothing at all that you could have done,” Eden said. "Unfortunately, this is part of the job. We can’t save them all, (Y/N), but you absolutely did everything you could have.” 

“I know I can’t save them all, but I needed to save him.” 

“Tell you what, I’m gonna break the news to the family right now,” the young man said. “You’re gonna take a second to compose yourself before you go out there, and I want you to take the rest of the day off to rest.” 

“I shouldn’t…” 

“I know that it’s unconventional, and most doctors would have said that you needed to get used to it,” he added. “But you need this, (Y/N). This case is too personal, and I know it’s gonna take a toll on you.” 

“Okay,” she whimpered. “Thank you, Dr. Mollins.” 

“I already told you, (Y/N). When we’re off a case, it’s Eden.” 

The moment Eden left the room, the silence that filled it was worse than the beeping and the alarms. It was eerie and loaded, and it made (Y/N) feel like it would swallow her at any moment.

Yet, the only other presence there was Harry. His face was covered with a white sheet, shielding his body from everyone. And for that, she was thankful. (Y/N) couldn’t look at his face. She knew her mind would trick her into thinking that he was merely sleeping and that at any moment, he would wake up and say the most unfunny joke she had heard of, but she would have laughed anyway because it would have meant that he was alive.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” she whispered to him. “I tried so hard. I hope you know that.”

“He does, honey.” Sue’s voice startled her. Tears stained the woman’s face, but her desperation was gone. She wrapped her arms around the younger girl, smoothing down her hair in a comforting manner. “He knows how hard you fought for him, (Y/N). It was just his time.”

“He was fine just last week,” she sobbed. “I can’t believe he’s just gone now.”

“As long as he is in our memories, he will never truly be gone,” the woman smiled sadly. “But he is with our spirits now, reunited with his ancestors.”

“Harry will never be forgotten that I can promise you, Sue.”

“He really loved you, (Y/N),” Sue mentioned. “He was always so amazed by everything that you were doing. He loved to boast about how far he knew you’d go to literally anyone who would listen. Deep down, he wanted Leah and Sam to work out so we’d be officially family.”

“I’m really gonna miss him, Sue. I wish I had spent more time with him these last few years. And now…”

“Oh, honey, no. Don’t do that,” the woman comforted. “Harry knew how busy you are, how busy you’ve always been. He was just so happy to know you were doing something you loved.”

“May his soul rest easy now,” the girl whimpered before placing a hand on Harry’s. “Until we meet again, Harry.”

(Y/N) excused herself from the room, allowing Sue to have one last moment with Harry. Outside, she acknowledged Charlie and Billy, giving them a sad smile before she disappeared into the doctor’s locker rooms. She couldn’t face another person who was close to Harry, not when she could still feel the beat of his heart under her hands.

Inside the locker room, she allowed herself to break down. She crumpled to the floor, clutching at her chest as every emotion came barreling down on her. There was pain and turmoil, anger and disappointment. But most of all, it was the harrowing sadness that she had been carrying since she was a little girl that draped itself over her, swallowing her completely and dragging her into the darkness.

Until a voice pulled her out. “Hey, hey, Uley,” Eden called as he kneeled in front of her. “Come on, you need to breathe. Take a deep breath.”

“I-I-I c-can’t,” she stammered. Her breath got trapped in her chest, tightening her lungs and making them burn for oxygen.

“Yes, you can. Come on,” he encouraged. “Match my breaths, okay? Come on, in and out.”

Eden took deep breaths, exhaling after holding them for five seconds. His hands found hers, forcing her gaze to snap to his. He continued the breathing exercises until she was finally able to match his pace. Her body stopped shaking, and feeling started returning to her limbs as her sobs quieted down. As weakness took over her, (Y/N) crashed onto Eden’s chest, allowing him to wrap her in a warm and comforting hug.

It was an unexpected embrace that she was more than thankful for. Eden had come to the hospital three months after Carlisle had left to fill the hole left in the emergency department. When (Y/N) had entered and started her clinical rotations, he had been tasked with being her teacher in emergency medicine.  

He had not taken to her quickly. From her work as a medical assistant, he had said she was far too young and too inexperienced to be in the hospital. Though he had eaten his words in a short amount of time, he still seemed to hold some sort of disdain for her. At least, that’s what she had thought until that very moment.

“Hey, there you go,” he cooed. “Just keep breathing, okay?”

“Gods,” (Y/N) croaked out. “I’m sorry. I know I should be okay with death, but this…”

“You don’t have to apologize, (Y/N). Never apologize for the emotions you’re feeling,” Eden reassured. “Especially not after losing someone close to you. That is something no one could ever fault you for.”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” the girl blurted. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’s not a secret that you don’t really like me.”

“Why would you think that?” she asked, his tone hinting at being slightly offended. “I don’t think I’ve given any indication of that.”

“Come on, Eden. You’re always giving me dirty looks and have gotten mad at me at any turn this whole week. It’s not hard to decipher that you don’t really enjoy my presence at the hospital.”

“Oh god, no. That has nothing to do with you—at least not directly,” he quickly assured. "I think you’re a brilliant doctor, and I’m honestly so impressed that you’re here at your age. My attitude has more to do with the fact that my parents saw you working here a week after I finally got here, and they were on me because I could have been like you.”

“What, a terrified nineteen-year-old playing at being a doctor?”

“Christ, I didn’t think you’d heard that,” he grimaced. “That came from a really childish place. It’s just that my parents have always pushed me to be the best, much to my detriment. I had the ability to jump a few grades or do dual enrollment like you did, but I wanted the whole high school experience. So, even if I graduated at sixteen and finished my bachelor's in three years, I could have always done better. So, here I am at twenty-five and already an attending, but in comes a nineteen-year-old med student who somehow was able to skip two whole years of med school and had an almost perfect Step 1 score, and suddenly my achievements aren’t good enough anymore. I’m sorry I ever said that. I mean, I’m a grown-ass man caring what my parents think.”

“Don’t worry,” she smiled softly. “It just made me want to prove myself even more. I’m kind of used to people underestimating me.”

“Yeah, I quickly learned I shouldn’t have,” he chuckled. “You’re a great doctor, (Y/N), and a great person.”

“Well, thank you,” she beamed. "It honestly means a lot coming from you, especially now.”

“I can promise that was the first and last time I ever underestimate you,” Eden smiled brightly.  “Now, you should go home. Your brother just came back.”

“Came back?”

“He arrived when you were down at the CT scan, but he left for an emergency,” the man responded. “He just came back a minute after you left the room.”

At the word emergency, (Y/N) jumped to her feet and ran toward the emergency room, new tears forming in the corners of her eyes. It was a word that held too much weight even before the entire picture was shown. After that morning, the girl could only expect the worst.

Her limbs carried her automatically, her brain not registering where she was going until she crashed into someone. “Is someone else hurt?” she managed to croak out. “Tell me what happened, Sam.”

“Hey, breathe, (Y/N),” her brother instructed as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. “No one’s hurt. Okay? It was just an accident.”

“That still doesn’t make things clearer. What accident?”

“Bella sort of jumped or slipped off a high cliff while we were running Victoria all the way up to the Canadian border,” he said. “I had been here for no more than ten minutes when Jared called me and said that Jake had gotten there just in time. She’s fine now. A bit shaken up and cold, but she’s at Billy’s house resting. You don’t have to worry, (Y/N). It’s been handled.”

“So, she almost drowned, and all she’s doing is sleeping it off?” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Why didn’t you bring her here? She needs to be checked out!”

“(Y/N), I need you to calm down, okay? She chose not to come, and you shouldn’t be worrying about this. You should be going home and resting, too.”

“But she’s…”

“You’re in no headspace to worry about other people, Bean,” Sam cooed as he smoothed down his sister’s hair. “Go home, kid. Rest up. We’ve got things from here.”

“But…”

“Go home, (Y/N),” Sue interjected, a kind smile softly stretching her face. “All that’s left here is legal mumbo jumbo. You’ve done everything you possibly can.”

“I just feel like I need to help in some way. Either here or with Bella. I just…”

“You can’t help anyone if you don’t take care of yourself, Bean,” her brother interrupted. “I promise we’ve got everything handled here, kid.”

After much insistence and a lot of back-and-forth, (Y/N) finally agreed to take her afternoon off and head back home. But loneliness was quick to follow as soon as she was by herself. It sank its claws into her throat and started a never-ending stream of tears that stained her cheeks. Helplessness gripped her chest, nagging at her mind and reminding her of all the things she couldn’t do.

Before she knew it, the afternoon had slowly shifted into night, and (Y/N)’s eyes had fluttered shut in the hospital parking lot. Now, with less weight in her heart and a tight knot in her neck, she sputtered her truck to life and started her trip back home, where she would most likely repeat the same process all over again.

When she got there, the house was eerily quiet, and the cold seeped into her bones as though winter was still scratching its way to the surface. But she knew why it felt that way, and she knew it would be like that for a long time.

Other than Sue, (Y/N) couldn’t get Seth and Leah out of her head. Not only had they been sprung into the supernatural world in such a dramatic way, but they had also lost their father and had not been able to say goodbye. She wondered if they were scared or angry, if a part of them felt guilty. She knew she did, and she couldn’t imagine how heavy it had to weigh on their own hearts and minds.

She was typing their house number when her house phone suddenly rang in her hand, startling her. “Hello?” she said through the phone.

“(Y/N), hi, it’s uh, Bella,” the Swan girl stammered in her usual fashion. “I heard about… I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks, Bella,” she smiled sadly, swallowing down the knot that threatened to close her throat. “Are you okay? Sam told me what happened this morning.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. It was just a horrible accident,” Bella answered quickly. “But I’m fine now. I was actually calling about something else.”

“Oh. Uh, what is it?” 

“Do you think you could come over right after the funeral?”

“To your house?” (Y/N) questioned. “Why?”

“I think there’s someone you should see.” 

Next ->

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[sweetkpopmusings]

long for you (interlude) | h. hyunjin <3

a/n: here's the interlude! only one more part of the fic left after this </3 this one is angsty, but i hope you enjoy it nevertheless >.< currently at work so i might make edits to it later lol if you want to be added to the tag list, you can reply to this post or send me an ask! pics not mine <3

♡ find all parts here ♡

content: fluff, romance, fake dating, angst, a happy ending | wc: 3.7k | warnings: mentions of food/eating, lots of crying | pairing: nonbinary!painter!hyunjin x gn!writer!reader | requests: open

synopsis: y/n is a writer with a long-awaited, well-deserved career opportunity. despite the excitement, there’s one major problem: the publisher expects a modern love story, equally romcom-like and authentic, but y/n lacks the inspiration to write something worth reading. through a chance meeting with mutual friends, y/n and hyunjin bond over upcoming deadlines and creative blocks. before the conversation ends, they discover that the ridiculous plot of fake dating might just work to solve their inspirational dry spell.

interlude: love untold

“y/n!”

a familiar voice calls your name. you look around the crowd, searching for anyone you recognize, not quite sure what you’re trying to find. when you see his face, you understand why the way he called your name sounded so much like home.

chan hurries over the second you wave to him, and you instinctively smile at his lopsided curls bouncing with each step he takes. you melt into his bear hug, warmed by the contact and the closeness of his bright smile. it’s only once you realize that he has run into you here that you feel a tiny wave of shock roll over you.

“wait, chan,” you tilt your head, “how are you…why are you here?”

he laughs, “i’m just as surprised to see you, y/n. i’m here interviewing for a new job.”

“oh wow! that’s great! how did it go?”

“i have the interview tomorrow, actually. i figured i’d get in a day early to feel out the area and make sure i like it.”

“and? what’s your review so far?”

chan’s excited grin is replaced by a soft smile, “seeing you makes it perfect.”

with a simple sentence, chan has you blushing the way you did as a teenager. it didn’t take much to fall into the old rhythm with him: easy conversation, light touches, inside jokes suddenly at the front of your mind despite not having been uttered in years. you two could have lost yourselves in each other’s presence anywhere, but chan suggests you migrate into a coffee shop to continue the conversation. as your agenda for the rest of the day is empty, you lead chan to a nearby coffee shop, relaxing into your seat with your favorite drink and the comfort of an old companion.

“so, tell me everything that’s been going on with you!”

you laugh, “chan. we haven’t seen each other in what, two, three years now? i hardly think telling you everything is possible.”

“i thought you said you had the rest of the night free?”

you roll your eyes, and chan giggles at his own joke. quietly, you prioritize what information to share, careful not to spiral and think about how much has changed since your last conversation with chan.

“i guess i can start with the fact that i got a book deal.”

chan just about drops his drink, “no way, y/n! that’s amazing! wow! i knew you’d do it one day. i know it has been your dream for ages. i’m so proud of you!”

“thank you, chan,” you pause to ensure he knows the depth of your gratitude, “it is a ghostwriting contract, so my name won’t be on it, but it feels surreal that someone’s paying me to write a book.”

“do you know when it’ll come out? i need to be first in line to buy it.”

“i honestly have no idea, but i’m turning in the manuscript tomorrow. the first draft of it, anyway.”

“wooooow,” chan leans back in his chair, “i’m so impressed. you’re like a big-time author now.”

“okay, don’t get ahead of yourself,” you scoff, still complimented by his pride in you, “but what about you? what brings you here for a new job?”

“eh, nothing as exciting as your news. i just want something new. i haven’t been feeling inspired with the work i do now, and i need a change of scenery. i moved back home after we…you know. it was great to go back to my roots. it’s time for me to move forward, turn a new page, start a life where no one knows me. at least that was the plan until i ran into you.”

you both laugh, and you reply, “if your interview tomorrow goes well, i can act like i don’t know you, so things can go according to plan.”

chan laughs boyishly, the way you always remembered it, “i appreciate your support, but i’d hate nothing more than for you to forget about me.”

you nod. you’d often caught yourself wondering whether chan still thought about you, whether he remembered any details of you and your life together. the space between you two was never supposed to grow this vast, but you figure that’s just how these things go sometimes. you feel a pang in your chest, sitting across from him, aware of how much he still means to you, despite it all.

“not to draw attention to the elephant in the room,” chan starts, feigning confidence over the redness in his ears, “are you seeing anyone?”

“please,” you laugh dryly, “you know i’m not.”

chan hums, observing you for a few extra seconds, “something’s going on in your love life.”

“chan!” you gape at him with disbelief, “based on what evidence?”

he leans closer to you, elbows on the table and eyes focused, “come on. i know you better than most people, especially when it comes to this stuff. who is it?”

you frown, hoping you can get him to believe that nothing is happening. predictably, even after years of separation, chan waits patiently. silent, stubborn, supportive.

“fine,” you sigh, spinning your cup a few times to delay your admission, “i was involved–well, not really involved, per se. there was…someone. we had something. at least, i thought we did, and i thought they thought so too. then, they ended things without warning. i can’t say they were in the wrong because being able to end things was a part of our…agreement…but it still hurt. i felt–feel–blindsided and delusional and stupid for getting my hopes up. i don’t think there’s anything to do now except move on, which sucks because it felt special. but hey,” you laugh sordidly, “i’ve been wrong about that before.”

chan smiles, some sadness peeking through, “we both have been wrong about that before.”

you nod, coming up empty on what to say next. chan watches you to ensure you’ve shared everything you wanted to before he speaks again.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i don’t know what they were thinking, and i won’t ask you to dredge up every detail, but i don’t need to know the whole situation to know that they made a mistake. you are so special. loving and being loved by you is the greatest gift i’ve ever known. you deserve someone who recognizes that, and i’m sorry that they weren’t smart enough to.”

you clear your throat, overwhelmed by chan’s words, “thanks, chan.”

“of course,” he smiles, “i’m what you could call an expert on this subject.”

you both laugh again, and chan continues, “all i wanted to do was give you the best. i still want to. i always thought if we saw each other again…” chan pauses to ensure he’s caught your gaze, “i would love to be the person that gives you what you deserve, if you’d let me.”

oh. 

“chan…”

“you don’t have to answer right now. besides, i wouldn’t ask for your time if we still lived as far apart as we do now. i just mean that, one way or another, i’d love to be back in your life. i still love you, and i always will, regardless of what that love looks like.”

a smile spreads across your face. chan, as you always remembered, never fails to surround you with warmth. you tell him so as you both say your goodbyes. you promise to call, much to chan’s excitement. he promises to tell you how the interview goes, and you can’t help but hope that he gets the job in the city, this city, your city. 

later, while you muscle through the final edits of your first manuscript, jisung stops by to confirm that you’re eating and drinking enough. against your best efforts, you mention chan right away.

“chan’s here?” jisung’s eyes are wide, though you can’t tell with which emotion.

you nod, “yeah, he’s interviewing for a job tomorrow.”

“oh wow, good for him!” jisung pauses his celebration for chan to ask the inevitable, “how did it feel to see him after…everything?”

you sigh, wondering how far down memory lane you were willing to travel, “it felt…good. we were comfortable right away, and, though it was clear time had passed, we were as connected as we had always been. he actually…i think, if he moves here, he wants to give us another shot.”

“whoa,” jisung looks arguably more shocked than you were when chan made his abrupt confession.

“yeah. i was surprised too. but i don’t know…i felt surprised in a good way, i think. obviously the whole hyunjin situation is fresh, and i’d be lying if i said i was over it. yet running into chan randomly for him to admit that he still wants to be with me, in some capacity at least, maybe that’s happening for a reason. i’ve felt so cynical about love for a long time. what if chan is the happy ending i’ve been craving all along?”

“i’m glad that seeing him went so well,” jisung chuckles, “i know when you two were with each other, you constantly talked about building a future together. you were happy with chan, there’s no denying that. but…”

“i know, i know,” you cut him off, so he doesn’t have to be the one to bring up the uncomfortable reminder, “he was my first love, and my first heartbreak. i can’t forget that he ended things because i distanced myself from him. i was scared, jisung. even though, or perhaps because, we were so young, our relationship was so idyllic. everything seemed to line up perfectly, and yet there was a pit in my stomach because i always worried that something was missing. could it have been that i found what was missing by growing up?”

“you sound like me,” he teases, a bit impressed, “it genuinely could be that you needed time apart to figure yourselves out before you could make it work. you and chan were great together; anyone could see that. if giving that relationship another, more mature try, is the right move, then you have my full support. but y/n…is chan the one you want to be with?”

“i…” you glance over at the poem hanging on your fridge, briefly feeling the way hyunjin’s words had moved you that night not so far in the past, “i’ve been feeling cynical about love and relationships for a long time. seeing chan made me feel hopeful again.”

“was it really chan that changed your mind?”

you roll your eyes and scoff, “whatever hyunjin made me feel doesn’t count. we weren’t even together anyway.”

jisung sighs, “just because you weren’t technically together doesn’t mean you didn’t build a relationship. the way you felt about hyunjin is what changed your mind on love, if you ask me. and, as we’ve already established, i have earned my wisdom when it comes to love.” 

you both laugh, relieving the tension. jisung definitely knew what he was talking about, and you know that he wouldn’t say anything regarding your love life if it weren’t important.

“what do you think i should do?”

a sweet and sympathetic smile appears on jisung’s face, “you know i can’t answer that. what i can say is i hope you chase after what’s right for you now. the younger version of you deserved real love, and who you are now deserves real love. that love might look different, whether it comes from the same person or not. it’s probably the romantic in me, but i think you’ll know if you’ve found that love. i hope you trust your gut, and i’ll support you no matter who or what you choose.”

with that, you thank him and remind him that you have a novel to finish, which means you don’t quite have the time for an existential crisis about love tonight. he laughs, wishes you luck, and heads home. you sit at the table for a while, quietly thinking to yourself about the events of the day. you never thought you’d be in a position like this, but you guess that signing up to live out one fanfic trope makes you more susceptible to living out other ones too. with that in mind, after finishing your edits, you decide to add one last line to the ending.

after all that had happened to us, and in spite of whatever would come, the center of everything was this: i have longed for you since the moment i met you; therefore, i will always love you. 

before you can second guess yourself, you send it to your publisher and close your laptop. unable to resist the tears, you sit at your kitchen table, full of relief and sadness, and cry. regardless of what tomorrow brings, one love story has ended. in chasing toward your tomorrow, you have to live with saying goodbye. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“hyunjin!” jeongin looks up from his desk, face composed but eyes wide with surprise, “i wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

hyunjin approximates a smile to the best of their abilities, “i figured i should hand the final piece in directly.”

“as always, i appreciate the personal touch,” jeongin grins and points to the large canvas leaning against hyunjin’s body, “is that it?”

“yes,” they gaze down, peeking at the image, “i finally finished it.”

quiet, hyunjin places the painting on a work table in front of jeongin. jeongin examines it, thoroughly dedicated to appreciating every brushstroke. the compliments on his artistic choices are personal and detailed, but hyunjin barely registers them. they’re sure they will be able to hear the precise, sincere feedback a different night, maybe when the exhibition opens, so hyunjin only feels a twinge of regret at being spaced out yet again. jeongin must have been able to tell that hyunjin was only half there because he quickly transitions his praise into a goodbye. hyunjin gratefully accepts the exit plan.

“oh, and hyunjin?”

hyunjin pauses near the door, facing their friend with their full attention, “yeah?”

“take care of yourself, yeah?”

“of course.”

hyunjin makes it only a block before the tears start streaming. hearing those words from jeongin, the type of friend to refrain from casual sentimentality, breaks hyunjin’s thinly veiled detachment. the facade they barely maintained in the past few weeks lacked resilience. how could there be any solidity to him when hyunjin spent the recent past floating away?

they walk aimlessly for some amount of time, landing at a park bench. the afternoon sun would usually deter them from this spot, but the overcast sky makes the place feel less visible, less connected to the rest of the outside world. hyunjin hadn’t been outside for more than a few minutes at a time since the conversation at the restaurant, so they melt into the bench with hopes that vitamin d will cure them of their self-inflicted heartbreak. cure is perhaps too strong of a hope. hyunjin doesn’t believe anything could undo the hurt he caused, but he wants to believe that the suffering won’t last forever. 

in case the sunshine can’t clear all their problems away, hyunjin calls minho. they feel selfish and stupid and hate that they could be interrupting someone else’s good day, but he can’t think of anything useful on his own. all the time in the studio, all the distancing from friends, all the nights spent writing in their journals couldn’t remove the pit in their stomach, the rock in their chest. the guilt weighed so much more because your name was written all over it.

“hyunjin,” minho answers on the third ring, “how can i help you?”

they laugh through the tears, sniffling, “your customer service knows no bounds.”

“i expect a tip.”

hyunjin laughs again, grateful for a fleeting lightness in his chest before confronting everything that’s crashing down, “minho, i messed up.” 

minho sighs on the other side of the line, “do you want to talk about it?”

thankfully, minho doesn’t rush hyunjin to respond. hyunjin, overcome with just about every emotion they’ve felt in the past few weeks, feels another wave of tears emerge in the presence of his friend’s patience and understanding. they’re not sure what they’re looking for, but being able to admit their mistakes feels like the right place to start.

“i really cared about y/n. like…deeply. more than i’ve cared about someone in a long time, if ever. i miss them, and it’s my fault. it’s like a sick joke. this whole arrangement was built around us finding inspiration for our work, and now, because i got scared, i learned what yearning actually feels like. i feel it in my body, like the urge to reach out for something–someone–that isn’t there anymore. it’s so cliché, and i used to make fun of people for saying it when they went through a breakup, but i look for y/n in everything i see. they’re gone. the feeling of them beside me is like a phantom limb, but i am responsible for the amputation. i feel like i can’t even be sad about it because i’m the one who left. i can’t even say i don’t know what went wrong because i ruined it. i regret it. minho, i don’t know what to do.”

“hyunjin,” minho sighs, “you need to be kinder to yourself. yes, you made a mistake, but you don’t deserve to tear yourself apart for it.”

“don’t i though? what i have–had–with y/n was so special. they deserve so much more than what i gave them, what i was giving them and then immaturely ripped away. they were so kind to me, so honest. and i threw that all away without so much as an explanation.”

“okay,” minho lets out a breath with a hint of frustration, “i really think you’re taking this self-flagellation thing way too far, but i won’t waste time arguing with you if you don’t want to believe me–”

“where did you learn ‘self-flagellation’?”

“hyunjin, seriously?” minho deadpans.

hyunjin can perfectly picture the annoyed look on minho’s face, and he laughs, “sorry, you’re right. we were being serious and vulnerable. i shouldn’t have interrupted with a joke.”

“exactly, you shouldn’t have interrupted the vulnerability.”

“are you talking about you or y/n now?”

“a little bit of both, but mostly y/n. you got scared because you two were so open with each other. you felt seen in a way you hadn’t before. that’s rare. all of us would be or have been intimidated by something like that.”

“not everyone runs away though,” hyunjin frowns, kicking a rock by their foot, “i did the thing you’re not supposed to do when you find someone as…perfect as y/n.”

“do you want them back?”

hyunjin bites his lip, scared even now to be honest about their desire, “it’s not like they would give me a second chance. they’re smarter than that.”

“that’s not the question i asked,” minho replies, kind yet firm.

panicking, they reply, “you know, even though it was a fake relationship, we kissed once. it was my idea, sort of as a joke. we did it anyway, ‘for the plot,’” hyunjin chuckles, “there was this clarity, in the seconds after we kissed. i realized then and there that i was far more tied to y/n than i ever expected or could have hoped. i know it sounds dramatic, but it’s like, with them, my heart and soul were…now they’re…life isn’t…i just thought that things would have turned out a completely different way, and maybe i was romanticizing things–i probably was, i always do–but that doesn’t change the fact that…” 

hyunjin pauses their rambling to take a deep breath, knowing there are only a few words left to say, “i want to be with y/n.”

for a brief second, the weight of everything falls away into sweet certainty. hyunjin wants to be with you, plain and simple. their stomach twists at the fact that you weren’t together because they ran away, but his heart leaps in hope that maybe things could still change.

“do you feel better now that you’ve said it?”

hyunjin sighs, relief rather than regret, “yeah. i do.”

“good,” minho pauses, and hyunjin imagines he’s cracking his knuckles in preparation for the nitty gritty advice he’s about to drop, “i think it’s important to point out that, just because you were fake dating each other doesn’t mean that you two didn’t have a relationship at all. you shared a connection, and the bond you built together was real, even if you weren’t earnestly trying to be romantic partners.”

oh.

hyunjin stays silent, so minho continues, “like i said, running away from someone, something special, because you’re scared of how much they mean to you is a mistake we all have or will make. don’t keep beating yourself up for it. also, don’t keep being dumb by avoiding y/n. if you feel the way you say you feel, then you owe it to yourself and to them to be honest, even if it’s coming a little late. take a chance. you’re already hurt, and you’ve already hurt them. what else do you have to lose?��

“i can’t believe you called me dumb while giving me the most insightful advice i’ve ever heard.”

minho laughs, “life’s about balance, hyunjin.”

hyunjin rolls their eyes, “i guess you’re right. about both things.”

“mhm. i usually am.”

hyunjin scoffs, “okay, if you’re going to gloat about being wise, i’m going to hang up.”

“good!” minho sighs the way one does after a long day’s work, “it’ll give you time to figure out how you’re going to get your person back.”

“you’re so annoying,” hyunjin huffs, “thank you. i’ll tell you how it goes.”

minho hums in agreement, rushing out a don’t forget to stop being dumb! as hyunjin ends the call. hyunjin sets their phone down next to them on the bench and takes a deep breath. the late afternoon is already melting its way into the evening. as hyunjin stares at the setting sun in the distance, they think about the beloved painting above their desk. out there, somewhere in the same city, there’s a chance you are at your bedroom window, saying goodbye to another day with hyunjin on the outside, a part of the world not welcomed into your home. what they wouldn’t give to change that.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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[devils-tarot]

The Fool's Journey (1 of 3)

~~~~~~~~~~

Just a Disclaimer: english is not my first language, so there will be mistakes. Sorry about that.

Part 2: is available here.

~~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a time... This is how we can start the story of the arcana with no number, The fool. I'll show you one aspect I love the most on the Tarot: its mith.

But first lets get a few things clear before we get to the main subject here. Everything I'm about to tell here is A MITH not a historical event. It holds mysteries on my tradition, and we do not expect it to make sense to everybody.

All I'm about to share is about the Tarot Deck with 78 cards, in wich 22 of them are major arcana and the rest are minors. The story of The Fool goes withing all the major arcana, therefore, the 22 cards all together is the The Fool's Journey.

The first one to tell a story like this was Roberto Caldeira in his book Caminho do Louco, published in Brazil. And one of the aspects of our system towards Tarot is: it tells all the stories, the old ones and the yet to come, so, the one I'm sharing here is my version of it. To see my master's version, get his book.

That being said, here we go. Hope you have fun!

There once was a man who used to live his life like everyone else was. Day by day he did just what everyone was doing: work during the day, ate anything that could look like food, complain about life, complain about others, complain about work, and sleep late in the night just to wake up early next morning to repeat everything, again and again...

One day he woke up, got dressed and walked out the house to go to work when he tripped over his own foot and fell down the stairs. In that moment, while he wasn't neither safe nor on the floor, but somewhere in between, his hole life has passed trough his eyes, and for a fraction of a second it was almost like he was in another reality.

Suddenly, he found himself on a cliff, with a dog chasing him. He quickly noticed his strange clothes and luggage (if we can call it that). Nothing there was understandable to him. He didn't understand what was happening, but overcome by the need to survive, to stay alive, he threw himself off the cliff into the unknown.

This urge to stay alive transformed the man into The Magician.

"OK, Now this?" he thought to himself. He had changed his clothes, had a cape now, everything was so weird. He decided then to open up the bag he was carying, he had to know what was in there...

A sword, a chalice, what seemed to be a disc of gold, and a staff... He knew everything he had carried with him, but what would he do with those was still a mystery.

He than decided he had to keep going, wherever he was going to. This urge kept chasing after him, the urge to live. And so he did. He used the disc as mirror sometimes, had the sword to help on fishing or chasing animals, the staff helped him walk, and the days where going, but not flowing.

He then decided to put his instruments in front of him and did something he had not yet tryed. Observation. And so he stood there, thinking, and in the processes, his mind got free. He was infinite, and he knew it. That moment everything made sense.. He had seen everything, as above so below, and as suddenly as that he changed to The High Priestess.

The Fool is now fully conected and awere of himself in the world. The high priestess has overpassed the mistery, and so our character now understands more of whats happening aroung him. His in some "spiritual existence", or so he thought.

During that time, the Fool got to learn more about his instruments. He then discovered that the sword was all about his soul, his discipline in order to be trustfull. That sword was a reminder that life will train you as a Warior, to fight for your life, for your existence. It's how it works for every being on the planet. We gotta fight for our existence. With discipline.

The chalice was a way of checking his emotions and dealing with them. Remembering to keep his water clean in order not to get thursty! It also showed him that, he was thursty of love, of happiness, of life. Know he could seed that. Oh, and that mirror? Yes, that golden disk reflected him to himself. "Are you worthy? do you feel worthy? what are you wothy for?" As a reminder to forge himself into a better and more beauty version of himself. That just growed bigger and bigger.

That staff became something more to him. Now he had a purpose: to improve. Improve himself for himself. He deserved it! And so he start day by day studying his own life, lookig inside him, fighting his demons.

He was so immersed in the experience he was living, that he barelly saw how much he accomplished. And when he stopet for a bit to look aroung him, everything was diffent. He had became The Empress.

Each achieviment of him was like a child: he was giving birth not to humans, but to his own desire. And there was a bunch of them already, growing all around him. He was no longer thursty for life, or happiness... He started seeing that everything he did had bring something new to his life.

He couldn't be happier. Thouse days were so great he just kept going, chasing his dreams, making them come true. He realized that the urge he felt some time ago was still there, but had chenged, as he did over the time. Something felt different.

He than decided to do what he learned already: ask the universe, life will talk to us. His conection was still on point, and he started to realize he had been manifesting all this glory and life, but where was it? What he had in the end? Was him high? Just as a mother takes responsibility for her children, he needed to take responsibility for his dreams too. It would not be enough to reach them, we must maintain them.

So, our man started to put order in his life. He had a sword, he need to discipline himself. And that made him The Emperror.

Disciplined, our Emperor conquered his life, dominated his daily life facing his main enemy: laziness.

It didn't take long until this whole result catch the attention of the people around. It's not every day that you see a kingdom emerge out of nowhere like this, in your neighbor's backyard. After attracting so much attention, the emperor ended up noticing the society around him.

Thus he observed the people, their customs, and noticed a lot of himself in others. He noticed his old tricks, his struggles, his improvements. They weren't that different, and he could see that.

And suddenly he asked himself: "everything I've been doing, everything I've been fighting for: my wealth, my success, my work, my life, is all of this my will or is it theirs? Who made me?"

Thinking about that, with all the discipline he had learned with the emperor, it was not difficult for him to change again, this time into the Hierofant.

Society is such a complex theme, don't you think? We organize our lifes in so many different ways, with different traditions, with different gods (or its absense). The Fool as deeply mesmerized by the fact that he had been following rules over rules, and all of it was our. We made them. So they made him. That's what he was thinking. He had to do something differente. And so he tried.

He decided to test and question every rule he came across, and in this process a lot happened. He discovered new places, with new people, who had new customs. And when he put into practice what he had learned in the last few months, he came to the same conclusion: Whenever I discover something, I become aware of something, I have the opportunity to dive into it, and when I see results I know: discipline leads to success. The magician, the high priestess, the empress and the emperor had already taught this to the Fool.

Thus he realized that yet another mystery had been revealed: society. Yes, all of us. Our complexity, our characteristics, our possibilities of existence. What do we devote our lives to? He questioned himself rhetorically.

In that moment he wondered, what do I want to do now? And the Lovers he became.

He look up and saw an angel. Was it god? Could it be god? Well, there was no need to worry about the answer. He just asked, and got answered.

After a while, The fool learned so manythings with the angel that got him into thinking that everytime he decided to do something, his wish as blessed by God. Even the bad choices he made was blessed. If life was a road, it sould be a big crossing streets, and the present time is right in the middle of it.

Every decision he made took him somewhere. Some places were goog, other not so much. When he choosed to give himself the attention and care hi needed the things went well. But whenever he let go of his own live, he got lost in his own life.

The should be a mystery, and he was right. He learned that what mooves him is his wishes to became better. He got to understand (finally!!!) the urge he felt. It was DESIRE.

He then realized he was free. Free to choose his own path, to go wherever he wanted. There are so many possibilities for us out there, he tought, and so he decided he was going foward, and that's how he turned into The Chariot.

Now, the angel of life on the previous card had given the Fool a perspective of life, and with an open mind he persued his desire. The star on the forehead show us that he could see the world from a new perspective.

But something was off. The chariot no longer moved. After trying and trying, he only walked in circle. After sometime re realized the problem. One of the animal was going left, the other one right. How could he go anywhere?

Remembering the old days, he decided to put on practice again what he learned, and voilà, something seemed to be working. He could see now, the horses are actually one: he himself. His emotional body and his racional body, materialized outside him. He had to master them, as he did back in the Emperor with his daily routine. Heart and Mind united into one.

Then, without reining in the horses, he climbed into the Chariot. Armed only with his true will, he commanded his instinct and his reason, his rational body and his emotional body. And on he went. And he achieved his goals. And because of this he was transformed and sat on the throne of Justice.

to be continued...

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

And last but definitely not least I come bearing gifts :p

🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁 (story whose current chapter you’re most excited to share)

🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁 (since these are all established Buddie stories - story with your favorite getting together moment)

🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁 (story that’s calling you to write at this moment)

Also gotta say I’m very pumped about your mystery fic! Anything you can tease about it? Or is there an estimate of when it’ll be published?

As always Cal I thank you so much for sharing your lovely work that brings me such joy! Sending love your way!

- PCA <3

YEEE I love these ones with the prompts.

As for ❓, thank you! It's being shared sometime in February for the Heart Eyes Fic Exchange. I can tease that it involves a VERY fun trope... Fake Dating ;)

Okay so two of the answers would be the same fic, so for the first prompt, I'm going to do the second most exciting chapter to share. I am VERY excited about 🗻, so 24 for 🗻:

---

“That was a lot.” 

Buck laughs a little, bitterly. His eyes are filling up with tears. 

“I have always wanted kids,” he says. 

“I know,” Eddie says. 

They hadn’t actually discussed it. It hadn’t come up, naturally or otherwise. Well, until now. But this is Buck. He’s a fantastic uncle. He’s always been so supportive of Eddie with Chris, stepping in and becoming a parent in a sort of way that was never required of him. He’s amazing with every kid they meet on calls. Of course he wants his own. Eddie never thought that was much of a question. He hasn’t thought about what that means for them either. It’s still really early. Too early to talk about babies. 

Or not.

“I don’t want it to be like this,” Buck continues. “Like… I’m just, what? A stranger? Someone they see occasionally who sends a child support check? I can’t… That’s not what I want.”

---

My favourite get together I've written was in ⚡️ - so 24 for ⚡️:

---

Brooke doesn’t seem to hear him. She climbs over top of him and plops herself right in between him and Buck. Buck wraps her in a tight hug and kisses the top of her head. 

“Missed you, kid,” he whispers.

“I missed you, too,” she says. “Can we swim now?”

Eddie chuckles. They might not be biologically related, but sometimes he thinks Brooke inherited Buck’s one-track mind thinking through proximity alone. 

“What about after breakfast?” Eddie suggests. 

Buck lets out a theatrical breath. “You know what they called morning swims back in Pennsylvania when I was growing up?”

“What?” Brooke asks. 

“A polar dip. Because the water is so cold. Like, the polar bears would even find it chilly.”

Brooke narrows her eyes skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah,” Buck nods. “It could be so chilly you’ll turn into a popsicle.”

Brooke giggles. “No, Daddy. You’re being silly.”

---

And the story that is calling to me the most? Mystery fic! So 24 for ❓ but I can only share the last sentence.

---

“She was trying to cover for her scam, and said you were the person she saw for me.”

[dd-is-my-guiltypleasure]

A LIFE IN THE DAY

David Duchovny: ‘Love can happen at any age, right?

The actor, 63, on The X Files, songwriting and snacking

EKATERINA GERBY

Interview by Helen Cullen

Wednesday January 17 2024, 12.01am GMT, The Sunday Time

Duchovny was born in New York City. He studied English at Princeton University and Yale, before breaking into acting in the late 1980s, starting in TV adverts and working his way up. In 1993 he began playing the role of the FBI agent Fox Mulder in The X Files, which ran for nine years. He later played Hank Moody in Californication. He has also released three folk-rock albums and published five novels — last year he directed a film adaptation of one of these, Bucky F***ing Dent. Duchovny has two grown-up children from his former marriage to the actress Téa Leoni. He lives in California, with his girlfriend, Monique Pendleberry, and his two dogs, Brick and Rookie.

I like to get up at dawn because those are my best thinking and writing hours. I love the sunrise but it also means I can get some work done before the sun gets too much. That’s the best time of day for me. I have a coffee that makes me think I’m brilliant for ten minutes and that’s all I need to get going.

Food to me is just fuel and I don’t have very advanced taste buds. I think everything kind of tastes OK, which people react to with suspicion. For breakfast I like oatmeal — what my Scottish mother called porridge.

If I’m filming I still like an early start, but I shot my recent film What Happens Later, with Meg Ryan, all through the night because we filmed in a regional airport after it closed at 9pm. That’s a bit of a nightmare for me as a morning person, but we developed a great camaraderie from working while the world was asleep. My daughter, West, thought it was great to see a romantic comedy film with people my age, but I don’t think of myself as any age, so I hadn’t thought about that. Love can happen at any age, right?

Everybody wants me to have a hobby, but I’m blessed because I love my work. I’ve been able to branch out into music, writing and directing. With songwriting I can pick up the guitar at any time. If you wait for inspiration to hit, you’ll be sitting on your ass for ever.

I knock off for lunch about 12pm. That’s when I have the one big meal of the day that would be recognisable to other humans as a proper meal — vegetables and a protein such as fish. The rest of the time I snack.

In the afternoon I work out. I love the games I played when I was younger — boxing, tennis and basketball — but as I get older I tend to get hurt doing those, so I’ve found Pilates is best for me. It’s still super hard but the least dangerous.

I live in Malibu and the height of my fame has passed, so it’s not difficult for me to move around any more. It’s a different era now because everybody has a phone, so paparazzi are more a thing of the past. I tend to go to the same places where people are bored of seeing me.

There are always different reasons why fans might stop me — it could be still because of The X Files or Californication. I am very proud of The X Files. I can’t think of another show like it in terms of cultural impact and longevity. I just thought we were making good, goofy TV but Chris Carter, the creator and director, saw what was coming in terms of the culture of conspiracy theories. Gillian Anderson [his co-star] and I went from being unknown to globally recognised in a couple of years. We don’t get to see each other that much as she lives in London, but there’s no one else I can share that with.

West is an actor now too. It wasn’t something that I would have charted out for her because I know how difficult it is, even more so for a woman, but I want her to do something she’s passionate about. There are still dark corners in Hollywood but the pitfalls and dangers are much more upfront.

I do enjoy a party, but I’d rather spend time with friends in the evening. Because I like to get up so early, I go to bed early also. I feel electric light has really f***ed with our sense of mind and body, and that we were made to hide in the cave at night from predators and wake up with the sun, so I try to do that. Constitutionally, I feel like that works for me.

Words of wisdom

Best advice I was given

It doesn’t matter if people laugh; it matters if it feels funny to you

Advice I’d give

There’s no such thing as good advice — you have to come to it on your own

What I wish I’d known

Take a moment to appreciate what you’ve done before worrying about the next thing

What Happens Later is in cinemas now and available to stream in spring. The Reservoir by David Duchovny is out now (Akashic Books £19.95)

×

[devinwolfi]

Meta: Would He Fucking Say That? On Characterization and Voice in Fanfic

Below is a 2.1k meta essay/opinion piece. I touch on characterization, identify the difference between character voice and writer voice, and address the writing of British-accented characters. I do this primarily through the lens of Ted Lasso with a focus on the character Jamie Tartt. Beyond examples for the sake of argument, this is not a fandom specific piece, and applies to plenty of others I've engaged with in my time.

This can also be read on Dreamwidth.

I’m not an expert. Never will I claim to be an expert. I feel as though most, if not all, metas are largely subjective, but like any other kind of opinion piece, it doesn’t matter how well researched it is, if at all. It may just be off the cuff ramblings, rapid fire thoughts and feelings about something. It may also be as well researched and properly cited as a paper you could find in respected, published journals.

That being said. What follows is entirely my opinion, and my opinion is one of a White, early-twenties American university science student who has been engaging with fan content at an exclusively amateur level since my early teens. Take with that what you will.

What I want to talk about here is my feelings on, as you can see from the title, characterization and voice. Characterization is fairly obvious. How these characters are written, both in the source material and by fans, and how these two compare. Voice pulls back a little bit, it refers to the voice of the character, which is part of the characterization, but also the voice of the writer, and the balance between the two. I have opinions about it that I recognize are not shared by everyone. There is plenty of good fic out there that treats voice differently than I would, or than I would prefer to read. This does not make them incorrect, or poorly written, it is just a matter of taste, style, and training.

Given that my current, primary fandom Is Ted Lasso, the examples I use will be drawn from that series and the associated fandom. I will not address specific fanworks by name or by author. I will try to keep things vague, while also trying to stay true to what I am trying to say. I will always be explicit when I am quoting or paraphrasing from a fic. So I would like to say up front that if I refer to a work that you recognize or that belongs to you, I genuinely, truly, do not mean any harm. Though, I recognize that harm is subjective and that intention very often does not equal impact. But, I do appreciate the work people do, genuinely and with my entire heart. Even when it doesn’t speak to me or I don’t like it. I will never claim to know better, simply because I do not have the credentials, experience, or technical skill to back that up. I just know what I like, which may be different from what you like. It is the varying tastes of fans at the core of fandom that has allowed us to engage with each other and with media in the way we do. It’s what makes fandom so great. If we all thought the same thing, that would just be plain boring.

-

When it comes to characterization and voice, I’m referring to the ways writers choose to present characters and how those characters perceive their world. How a writer chooses to do this depends largely on how they interpret characters themselves. This on its own causes many different versions of what is supposed to be the same character to come to light.

I’m sure we’ve all read a fic before and thought, “What the hell is this writer thinking?” I know I have, I know my mutuals have. That being said, many of us are aware that fic writing these days is predominated by amateurs. Which is fine, there’s nothing wrong with that. Fandom used to be dominated by White, professional, educated, middle-class women. Thanks to the advent of social media and globalization, fandom is more diverse and accessible than ever. This means that many of the people who are creating and engaging with fan content are not necessarily trained in writing, fiction or otherwise. I believe we have to be comfortable making certain allowances for the sake of reading about the blorbos from our shows.

Many of my fandoms, somehow, end up being British. Perhaps it is my genetics, yearning for the rhythmic tones of my western European ancestors… Or it’s more reasonably just coincidence. British media has a habit of attracting large American audiences, which means swathes of American fanwriters trying to approximate British speech patterns, for better or worse. This observation is at the core of this meta. This isn’t a source on how to write British characters better, because I’m not British, and have no point of authority on the matter. This also isn’t a call for “britpicking,” or even insisting that you need to find beta readers or else your work will never be worth reading. Good betas are hard to find, and while finding one is certainly worth it, you can still be a good writer without one. Trust.

This is a call for paying attention. For identifying speech patterns and perspectives of the character you want to write about, and using them effectively in your own writing.

Effective use being the key phrase here. Plenty of authors can identify quirks, buzzy catchphrases, and all the other little idiosyncrasies that make a character unique, but using them properly is where writers tend to stumble. The key is selectivity. For example, Ted Lasso’s Jamie Tartt, born and raised in North Manchester, known for his iconic turns and miss-turns of phrase. He’s got regionally specific, youthful slang as well as a habit of misusing common words and phrases. It’s all part of his charm! But it can be hard to get right.

Two things often happen to our friend Jamie. First, they underwrite him. Homogenize him, making him just vaguely English enough to pass, I guess. Though I see this most often in conjunction with other characters, who have their own distinctive speech patterns. All of them rendered down into a pile of identical and vaguely British-sounding pieces of wood. The second, they overwrite him. They use slang excessively. Which isn’t wrong per se, but the key point is you must know what it means, and the context in which to use it.

Overwriting is, very possibly, the bane of my fan existence. Few things turn me off a fic faster than egregious mishandling of slang and dependence on popular, canonical one-liners, because I know that the author is trying for realism. I recall very clearly a writer using “well mint (correction),” which to this day makes me physically recoil every time I think about it. Sorry. This also includes the overabundance of “sexy little baby;” an iconic Jamie line. Called back by his mother in her first appearance. Now it’s everywhere. What should have been sweet, cutesy even, has been over-handled, the dough of your story is falling apart. There can, in fact, be too much of a good thing. God help us.

In or adjacent to this vein, there is a misattribution of dialectal patterns. While many of these characters are from the UK, they’re from different places, were raised in different cultures, and use different words. Mixing these up, such as our preppy resident Welshman saying “bruv,” a word with multicultural cockney roots in London's East End (and Scotland), draws attention to the writer as someone who is not paying very good attention to the characters they’re writing about.

Another gripe, and this is one just for me, is phonetic dialogue. I get it, okay? You want to make sure that your readers are reading this in the exact way you want it to sound. This happens in all writing. So many novelists, notably those in the fantasy genre, do this. They shun standardized and comfortable spelling and sentence structure to try and give their characters a little more oomph. However, if you’ll allow me to be blunt, I hate this so bad. This may be great for all the lovely voice actors who record audiobooks, the screen and stage actors and the like. Those who’ve been tasked with turning the written word into an audio experience. Personally, I’ve always found reading it very taxing and distracting.

People especially love to do this for Jamie. Hell, my own dad does it about Roy, and I haven’t had the guts to tell him that he’s doing it wrong. Or maybe he’s doing it wrong on purpose to make me suffer, possible. Jamie, with his charming Mancunian way of going about things, gets this treatment excessively. While I appreciate when it dulls the crude edge of “poop-eh,” I find that it can be overdone and hard to read. That dastardly too much of a good thing again.

The fic that inspired this meta did this. Every other word of dialogue spelled phonetically, and worse? Incorrectly. I don’t know how to say, in a normal way, that Roy Kent would not say words like that. He’s just not doing vowels like that, what can I say? My only assumption is that the writer got so caught up in Jamie’s accent that they accidentally went and gave South Londoner Roy the same one. It was just a lot.

When it comes to voice, there are two kinds: There’s the character’s, which we’ve already touched on above, and yours, the writer’s. It’s important to be able to identify and express how a character views and responds to the world they’re in. It makes your characters feel true. It gives them a sense of identity that can help a reader feel invested in their circumstances. Your voice is how you chose to tell the story. The way you like to structure your sentences and stories, describe things, themes and motifs you enjoy.

There is a balance between these things. This balance is different for every person and every work. Some writers are confident in their own voice and express more of that than a particular character’s. Other writers, those who feel really in touch with their characters of choice, may choose to emulate a character’s thought process in favor of their own. It doesn’t really matter which you choose, both are effective, and both can make for a good story. One is not better than the other. Do what feels right for you and your story, and switch it up sometimes! It’s good for you and your craft.

Your voice does not exist in a vacuum. It comes from everything you’ve ever read, watched, conversations you’ve had, things you’ve learned. It is a concentration of self. It can be refined, nurtured into something you can be proud of knowing you not only got your point across, but sounded damn good doing it.

It’s important to be able to determine the difference between your voice and the character’s. Sometimes, as awful as it is to admit, that delightful little phrase you cooked up sometimes isn’t what they would say. Are these characters actually that emotionally (un)intelligent? Would they really get caught up in sexuality labels and drop their hot new therapy buzzwords in casual conversation? Do whatever you want, make them say whatever you want, it’s fiction about fiction. But if you catch yourself projecting a little, or a lot, determine if you want to do it with your whole chest and double down, or if you want to reevaluate and revisit the source.

Like character voice, author voice can also lead to homogeneous characters and stories that all sound the same. Plenty of writers write the way they do because they enjoy it. They consider themselves, as they are, to be good, and they very well may be. The writer, first and foremost, writes for themselves. Why shouldn’t they try to write something that speaks to them? There’s nothing wrong with this either. All of us know those fics that have us wishing there were a hundred more just like it. But watch out for if all your characters just sound like you, unless that’s what you’re going for. A little self insert never hurt anybody.

Can you still write a good fic even if you do these things? I don’t see why not. You can plot well, introduce conflict with a deft hand, and write satisfying endings all while your characters talk like a bunch of dialects bundled into a trenchcoat and thrown in a blender. But it can distract or drive readers away from all the good bits of your story because you’ve accidentally gone and fumbled the voices of the characters that they wanted to read about.

All of that being said, there’s no need to write up extensive linguistic bios or do fandom wiki deep dives before you write a character, not unless you want to. It’s just a matter of engaging critically and consciously with the source material. Listening to the things characters say, how they say them, and why. It will make your characters feel more real, closer to canon, rather than leaving your readers raising their eyebrows and thinking about how much he would not fucking say that.