#i thought i'd posted this but instead i got distracted for an hour

[not-poignant]

Your dialogue is incredible, do you have any advice on how to write like that? Like the actual process you use to arrive at what's on the page. Do you write a ton of dialogue and then cut it down to the gems? Or does it just come out like that when you write? The characterisation in the dialogue is superb, and somehow it never feels overwrought or unnatural. I guess I'm just hoping it's a carefully-honed craft you can give practical tips on, rather than something you can just innately 'do' 😂 xx

Hi anon,

So firstly, I'm so sorry anon because this will probably piss you off: I do find dialogue extremely easy to do, which is why all of my stories are so dialogue heavy. I don't sit there writing a ton of dialogue and then whittling it down, and it just comes out as I write. At most I sometimes just have to double check tone continuity on certain characters (i.e. 'would Augus / Dr Gary / the Raven Prince use this exact phrasing or would they use something else')

When I daydream about my stories, I daydream about the dialogue first. I 'listen' to my characters and the things they say. When I write it down, I don't sit and think 'what would they say' I just write what they'd say. But...I've been doing this for like a long time now, and I do believe there are things that can be done to build the skill.

I feel like throughout my life, I've done things that at least some other people don't do, which makes dialogue easier for me.

But firstly, down to mechanics, here's a link to a post I've made before on things to focus on re: honing dialogue as a skill.

What some folks don't realise is that constructing a vocabulary or tone for a character is like constructing a character. A character's voice says so much about them - how much money they make (or if they're nouveau riche in some cases), where they live, if they were popular or unpopular in school, if they're shy or extroverted or charismatic, if they care about how they come across, if they're a precise or messy thinker, etc. Each character you have, you need to be spending time just thinking about elements of their voice and dialogue if you're not used to doing this already.

The best place to start with this, honestly, is by rewatching some of your favourite shows or rereading some of your favourite books and noting down things about the dialogue that are unique to each character. (Ideally this will be in stories that have very unique dialogue patterns lol). This is actually fantastic for fanfic because you can end up with a cheat sheet (which I've also written about) that will instantly make your character's dialogue sound 'true to form' without having to overthink it.

And the rest I'm putting under a Read More because it's literally just me rambling:

Another place to research is simply by listening to conversations. Listen to the people around you talk, and write down the things that are specific to them. How do they agree or disagree with something? Are there sayings they're using particular or specific to where they live? Do they use a lot of slang? And if so, is it generational? Who are the overspeakers? The underspeakers? the ones who deflect? The ones who shut things down? When you're listening to people talk, think about the words they use, the pitch, if their voice is croaky or smooth, confident or shy, what makes it shy? Is it soft? Do they hesitate? If it's confident, what makes it confident? Is it loud? Do they almost never say 'um' or other words of hesitation?

Think about how these people's voices might differ from place to place. How do they talk to a waiter vs. customer service on the phone vs. a best friend vs. a family member vs. a teacher? Think about the changes you make in those circumstances.

Over time, this knowledge comes to you more instinctively. I've spent my entire life being very interested in the way people talk (I'm neurodivergent, and chameleon-like, and I will adopt other people's patterns of speaking unconsciously in order to 'blend in' - but it gave me a pretty good knack with dialogue! As did 'practising conversations' in my head growing up, lol.)

A really good place to look at character voice sometimes is also in actor interviews. Go and check out like... the Hot Ones interviews or something on YouTube, and you'll see a ton of extremely distinct character voices that are right there to research. How Jack Black talks vs. someone like Tom Hanks vs. someone like Nick Offerman vs. someone like Tom Holland shows huge variation in what makes dialogue unique from person to person.

Your characters don't need to sound like caricatures, ideally they will feel things and embody things strongly enough that this isn't really a problem (even Benoit Blanc sounds like a genuine person despite sounding like a cartoon character because of the emotion / feeling he can get into that voice). Your main goal, imho, is to make sure that all your characters don't end up sounding like carbon copies of yourself. I think this is a problem even people who write natural dialogue can stumble into (that I've been guilty of too), it flows naturally because they're just writing how they'd think/react to something, but it's 6 characters and you realise 'hang on, I'm just reading 6 versions of the author.'

This is where researching the distinctness of character voice is really important, and making a cheat sheet to check when you're going back through a chapter can be invaluable.

There are little things I do fairly naturally these days, to use Underline the Black (or Underline the Rainbow more generally) as an example. Temsen says things like 'Goodness!' instead of 'oh my god.' He can still do the latter, but he's far more likely to be quite sort of formal when he's surprised or shocked by something (and Kent has picked that up, so he does it too, lol, which makes sense - because they work together and people adopt each other's speech patterns when they get along).

Efnisien is very comfortable with swearing, he's got 'juvenile alpha who had to fight with Gwyn all his life' throughout his dialogue. Gary is quite formal and talks in complete sentences almost always. He very rarely hedges or restarts his sentences, and as Efnisien observes: He speaks like someone who's about to go onto a podium and confidently deliver a lecture. He's very self-assured. Efnisien on the other hand hedges a lot, shuts himself down, doesn't finish sentences, and bites back some of his words. Dr Gary doesn't use endearments in general, and can be extremely sarcastic. His humour veers towards deadpan.

Caleb is very forward, bold and confident. He uses endearments like 'baby' and 'sweetheart.' He's flirtatious, and he doesn't talk too much. His voice when he says something tends to fill the space - he has the respect and attention of the people around him. He speaks in complete sentences that are generally quite short (but not short-tempered) and to the point. He comes across as someone who's looking for a good time, but he's not obviously emotionally available when he speaks.

Nate (in Underline the Blue) is people pleasing and generally obsequious (but his inner dialogue indicates there's a snarky voice waiting to get out). He hedges, but ultimately tries to be pleasing. A lot of 'what do you like best? What do you want?' He redirects with questions and tries to avoid talking about his personal life. His voice is quiet in tone, and also quite lacking. He sounds like someone who hasn't had the opportunity to enjoy conversation for its own sake. He shuts conversations down rather than opening them up. He almost never initiates any dialogue at all.

I can do this across all my characters because I have their mental cheat sheets relatively memorised. Whatever book or story you're focusing on, it's a good habit to be able to just mentally know a paragraph or two about your character's voice. Checking in with that mental knowledge (or cheat sheet until you learn it) before starting writing any chapter can help guide you.

The way a character talks determines how the story flows. Nate doesn't start conversations, so he needs to be paired with someone who does. This means if Nate starts a conversation - he's going to be more anxious than usual most times, which creates many opportunities for angsty scenes.

Efnisien is hostile and combative, especially when he's afraid or upset, which creates a lot of opportunities - simply through the way he talks - for increased chemistry with a more calm but still incisive opponent like Gary. Once you start to get a handle on dialogue, how your characters speak alone will create flow through the plot, and also create ways to get through a plot or reach certain points. I know for example that Efnisien's verbal response to the directives softens Gary towards him. Or I know that Gary's softer coaxing voice when he's soothing Efnisien will genuinely soothe Efnisien - even against his will. That's a powerful thing to know about my character's voices!

You're gonna pick this up in no time, anon. You might even have really good dialogue instincts and just be over-thinking it. But I do think in general, sit down with whoever you like to listen to - your fave YouTubers, people on TikTok, your favourite shows etc. and then just...listen to the dialogue. Be wary of subtitles in this case, because they can sometimes erase or hide the actual unique details of a person's voice to make it more 'generic.' Some are better than others.

And then just write down the things that feel unique to those people. Especially notice turns of phrase that you don't use yourself. (Which also means thinking about the kind of cheat sheet you'd write for yourself! Tbh that's probably a good place to start lmao).

Definitely click on the links I've put in this post, the first one in particular breaks down all the details of dialogue more specifically. And doesn't take like 4000 words to not actually make much of a point, like in this post sdlkfjas

If I'd posted it as dialogue we wouldn't have been here for so long but anyway tl;dr I find dialogue stupid easy but that's because I've been observing dialogue and what makes it unique all my life and there's no real short-cut for that but if you start doing it now you'll find writing dialogue way easier really soon.

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Doodles Made by a 6-year-old Boy Named Onfim, from Russia, c. 1240-1260 CE: created nearly 800 years ago, these drawings were scrawled onto the homework/spelling exercises of a little boy in Novgorod

Over the last 75 years, excavations in and around Novgorod, in Russia, have led to the discovery of hundreds of documents dating back to the Middle Ages. These documents were made using pieces of bark from the local birch trees; they include letters, notes, spelling exercises, shopping lists, receipts, and legal documents, among other things.

The most famous examples are the panels that contain the writing exercises of a 6-7 year-old boy named Onfim, whose work was often accompanied by drawings of knights, fantastical beasts, battle scenes, and depictions of himself in various forms.

These are just a few examples:

Birch-Bark Document no.199: on the back of a panel that had been used for his spelling exercises, Onfim drew this picture of himself as a wild beast, writing "I am a wild beast" in the center of the drawing; the beast is also shown holding a sign that says "Greetings from Onfim to Danilo," likely referring to a friend or classmate.

Birch-Bark Document no.200: Onfim began writing the Cyrillic alphabet at the top of this panel, but he then stopped to draw a picture of himself as a warrior on horseback, labeling the figure with his name; the drawing shows him wielding a sword while he impales his enemy with a spear.

Birch-Bark Document no.202: the boy's mother and father are depicted in this drawing, which accompanies another writing exercise.

Birch-Bark Document no.206: Onfim began to copy a liturgical prayer (the Troparion of the Sixth Hour) onto this strip of bark, but he apparently got distracted after writing just the first few words, and started drawing a row of people along the bottom of the panel instead.

The examples above are just a few of the many documents that have been unearthed in Novgorod (now known as Veliky Novgorod) and its surrounding areas. More than a thousand birch-bark manuscripts and styli have been found throughout the region, suggesting that there was a high rate of literacy among the local inhabitants. Most of these documents were created during the 11th-15th centuries, when Novgorod served as the capital city of the Novgorod Republic; they had been buried in the thick, wet clay that permeates the local soil, in conditions that allowed them to remain almost perfectly preserved for hundreds of years.

I know that Onfim's drawings are pretty well-known already, but my most recent post involved a very similar writing exercise/doodle from a child in Medieval Egypt, so I just thought I'd post some of Onfim's work, as well.

Sources & More Info:

Institute of Slavic Studies at the Russian Academy of Sciences: Birch-Bark no.200, no.199, no.202, no.203, no.206, & no.210 (the site is in Russian, but can be translated)

Institute of Slavic Studies: Full Database of Birch-Bark Documents

The New York Times: Where Mud is Archaeological Gold, Russian History Grew on Trees

Russian Linguistics: Old East Slavic Birch-Bark Literacy - a history of linguistic emancipation?

[zablife]

Fragile Things

Jack Nelson x female reader

Author's Note: Written from an anon ask I can't find in my inbox anymore, requesting some soft, smutty Jack thru the seasons. It turned angsty at the end as I listened to "Munich" by the Editors, but I hope you still enjoy it! It's short with an open ending, but I thought I'd post it instead of letting it sit in my drafts any longer.

Warnings: hint of smut, mention of cheating

The open window blew a gentle spring breeze into the room along with the scent of lilacs you’d planted in the fall. You’d kept busy those dark months as Jack traveled, trying not to think what might happen if he never returned. It hadn’t been easy to calm yourself in the early days, whispering prayers into the wind. Your unsteady hands craved his touch upon your shoulder tethering you to reality. Without it, you felt as though you might float away. Sometimes you still found it difficult if he went too long without visiting.

But he’s here now, you thought as you gazed up at him, memorizing every golden fleck in his bright green irises. The feeling of his arms caging your upper body protectively was comforting and you dug your heels against the backs of his thighs, urging him nearer to your aching core. He pushed you further into the mattress with a deep stroke of his pelvis, full lips brushing yours before licking into your mouth hungrily. It was the first time your mind had truly quieted in weeks.

As you came down from your high, you whimpered at the loss of him as he withdrew from your body, rolling onto his back with a contented sigh. He reached for you with one arm, beckoning you to his side and you nuzzled into him. His fingers carded through your hair, massaging your scalp and tangling in your disheveled locks. You pressed your cheek against his bare chest to feel the rhythm of his heart, allowing it to lull you to sleep when he suddenly spoke. 

“Gotta go to New York tomorrow, doll,” he whispered on an exhale of breath. Closing your eyes against the tears threatening to fall, you snaked a hand around his waist possessively. It had only been two days since his return and the thought of him leaving again was too much to bear. You glanced at the clock on the bedside table quickly realizing your crushing loneliness was only hours away.

You sat up, clutching the bedsheet to your chest as you stared at Jack in disbelief. “Can't you stay any longer? You just got here,” you protested, hoping to change his mind.

Jack rubbed a hand along your back soothingly. “I know, angel, but it’s business. I have to,” he explained. Despite the softness in his voice, you took no solace in it.

Turning away from him to reach for his jacket, you fumbled in the dark for his cigarettes and lighter, needing something to distract you. “You’ll be a good girl for me, no pouting?,” he asked and without having to look, you could imagine his mouth curling into a charming smile. As your fingertips brushed paper, you frowned slightly. Pulling it from his pocket, you squinted in the light to make out a woman’s name and a New York address. Your heart dropped at the sight of the unfamiliar loopy handwriting and tomorrow's date inside a heart.

“Doll?” he called out when he realized you were softly shaking your head. His large hand came to rest atop your thigh and gave a gentle squeeze to get your attention, but your thoughts had drifted back where he could no longer reach you. You were somewhere in the garden planting flowers while he dined with her, falling asleep in a cold bed as he warmed hers and dreaming of a man who never thought of you.

You stood from the bed and glared down at him with a quiet anger he instantly recognized, the accusation written over your tear stained face. “People are fragile things, Jack,” you mused. “You should be careful what you put them through."

[earthtokhal]

RE: EMOTIONAL DR POST.

Formula 1 wasn't a foreign sport to me, my uncle and cousins all loved it for as long as I can remember but my father was more of a bat and ball sports guy, so instead of watching the likes of Ricciardo, Hamilton, Vettel and Rosberg, my days were filled with the Pollocks, the De Villiers and the Warners.

But I found Daniel Ricciardo one evening in 2022 as I was scrolling through Netflix. I found DTS and decided to give it a try to finally pay back my cousin for taking interest in something else I liked. She did it for me, I'd do this for her but more so, I needed a distraction.

You see, my favorite band, BTS had just put a hold on their career. My favorite member, Seokjin was going to be enlisting in the South Korean army in a few months and soon after the rest of them would follow. It was something that we knew was coming but something no one could truly prepare for.

But being the ever anxious soul who would rather change the course of things rather than let it happen and experience it then, I knew that it would be something that would hit me hard. Seokjin would be gone for two years.

And it was odd, and slightly embarrassing because I was a then 27 year old with a big girl job and family responsibilities absolutely losing my mind about my comfort person being gone for 2 years. Incredibly parasocial, I know. But the year had been hard, I had covid, I lost my father, my best friend was still all the way in South Korea and I had new responsibilities that I was still coming to terms with.

I had met my best friend through BTS and we had spent many hours talking about them, writing fiction and now we didn't know how to navigate this. Well, I didn't. She's much stronger than I am.

My intention was solely to have a distraction, and to maybe get some information to talk to my cousin about the sport she had loved since she was a kid but the second that guy, with the curly hair and big grin sat in the interview chair and opened his mouth, I was hooked.

"I'm Daniel Ricciardo and I'm a car mechanic."

I was so incredibly taken by him that I somehow went from season 1 to season 3 in just a few days and got my best friend hooked too.

I had found my new hyperfixation, someone so incredibly like Seokjin. It's weird that I say that because I don't know either of them personally but Daniel was incedibly "welcoming."

Unfortunately for me, by the time I did find the series and ultimately the sport, his exit from Mclaren was already announced and so I watched the remainder of the season with that in mind, I just found him but I am about to lose him. In those few races, I watched in 2022, I had the full experience of being a Danny Ric fan, the happiness when he qualified well, the joy when he was able to get a good strategy and absolute elation when he got solid points but I also experienced the lows, the change of the steering wheel, COTA 2022 and then the goodbye but somehow it didn't feel like this.

I was genuinely upset that he didn't want to go to Haas. For my own gain, I wanted him to join a team immediately so that I could have him just a little while longer but he didn't. I remember getting so incredibly angry with that F1 presenter who saying that he should have taken the seat despite him just telling them that he needed a break mentally.

And after the most grueling year of my life, this millionaire, Aussie sportsman showed me that it's okay to take a break even when nobody else thinks you should.

He left the sport that day with rumours surrounding him that he would join Mercedes and Red Bull as their third driver. I was so happy that he spent his last race fighting with the man he spent some of his first years in formula 1 fighting alongside, Seb. Daniel eventually got that point and I thought, Seb is for sure leaving so he deserves this goodbye, Daniel isn't completely going. He'll get his some other time. (lol)

A few days later, we found out he joined Red Bull and silly me, despite their history of cruel sacking, I thought it would be different here. He will be treated well, this is his team.

Daniel fought, I do not care about the revision people did of his career and those who claimed he didn't show his worth in his time with AT/RB. He fought!

He was out of the car for 8 months and put in a lap time that would have put him next to Max. He came back and matched Yuki immediately, he got absolutely shafted by Zhou and brought the car back to p13.

And in Spa, he pushed the car so hard that he ended up with a lap time deleted but for me, it felt good. He felt comfortable enough to absolutely send it.

Then the rollercoaster of Zandvoort. I was so incredibly scared that we would lose him again and somehow he pulled through, he came back and gave that useless team a p4 in quali and their highest finishing position. No dnf's infront of him, that was all him.

This year, I hoped it would go better for him but he was on the back foot from day 1. Whether the chassis was ready broken or not, we will never know but what I do know is that the second they changed it, he started performing better. Points tell a different story but he has very much been the better driver since at least Canada.

He tested the set ups for them, he gave them the feedback. Hell, he brought them the sponsors.

In the end, he did every single thing he needed to. He was told to perform and boy, did he perform. The seat was never going to be his because he was never going to buy it.

And if this is truly the end, then I hope he decided. I hope that he saw the team for what it truly is and he walked out.

I wish he got a better goodbye, I wish he was able to stay until the end and more importantly, I wish he could have announced it himself. I wish Red Bull actually stood by him like they said would, I wish he never was caught in between this inner political war happening in Red Bull. I wish the media just left him alone and I wish that after Mclaren, that his management team had protected him better.

But, I also hope that this return to the sport was what he hoped it would be, I hope he knows that his talent and career is not defined by his Mclaren stint or by what people try to make it out to be. His competitors from the seven time world champion right down to those who drove alongside him for a few races, hold him in such high regard because he is and will always be THAT guy.

I hope even after all this, he could return whether with Audi or if they ever decide to get that guy out of the RBR seat and I hope then, he gets the goodbye he truly deserves.

But Daniel Ricciardo, you have been a light to so many people. You are the reason the sport has become so big and so commercialized, the reason teams are able to get these insane sponsors now.

Thank you for the journey and for affording me the chance to watch you race post Mclaren.

To me, You are Formula 1 and you will always be.

"May your trials always end in full bloom. "- August D- So far away.

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

For the WIP game I'd love to hear about your post s2 scenario and the Binding of Loki! 👀💖

Thanks for the ask, bestie. 😘

Post S2 will see Mobius realise he never got a chance to properly talk ~~and kiss~~ Loki. And while he doesn't want to change the past, he does want to grab some of Loki's time. But it's not going to be easy.

I posted the opening snippet for Post S2 last week. Here's a following bit.

The mud squelched as Mobius stepped out into the little lane in Chicago, 1893. It was dark, as it had been when he and Loki had run through the streets looking for Victor. That moment felt like an eternity away, and despite his attempts to distract them both from the mission with various treats from the era, they hadn’t had time to talk. He had been building up to taking Loki on a hot air balloon, giving them the space to breathe. They never had a chance, not really. His past self was too busy numbing and ignoring what was happening around him. It was just too horrific to look at his life, to know his existence at the TVA was a lie. Now, he knew different. He looked up the lane, recognising the whir of a bicycle passing. It won’t be long now until his past self and Loki separate, chasing after the man they needed to open the blast doors. The folly of it should make Mobius laugh. Instead, he walked a little down the lane until he found a small alcove. It was almost pitch black in this space, but he closed his eyes and listened. Loki was fast. They could run like the wind. He had to make this count. His heart pounded in his chest, distracting him. His palms were sweaty. There was a distant sound of feet scuffling as Victor and Ravonna started running. In his mind, Mobius saw his past self run one way, and Loki coming down this very lane he was standing in. He took a deep breath and braced himself. One, two… Mobius stepped out, his fingers brushing over Loki's jacket. It tingled and scratched at his calloused fingertips, and he stared at them for a second, before sighing at the disappearing figure. He'd held back too long. He needed to go back earlier.

The Binding of Loki is a kind of fix it. I'm a mythology nerd, so I thought of an alternative timeline Mobius/Don getting caught up in a storm in Norway and discovering Loki bound in a cave.

Because he is essentially a Sigyn variant in my head, Mobius will stop the poison dripping down onto Loki, and will cut them loose. Loki will slide off the rock to the ground and Mobius will light a fire and they'll cuddle for warmth.

Then, there be some revelations, Loki talking about how this Mobius looks so like him. Mobius asks where the other him is, and Loki listens and says: "Only a few timelines over."

Mobius continues to care for Loki, convinced Loki might leave him here but he can't do anything else. The god is ill.

But after 24 hours, maybe longer, Loki is strong enough and teleports them both back to where Mobius was staying.

There's a handshake that turns into a hug, and finishes with alt-Mobius telling Loki to go get Mobius.

Then, Loki disappears, and Mobius sighs.

But we switch to Loki’s POV, appearing beside Mobius after he says, "Let time pass."

"With me?" Loki will ask.

And then they start living a life together

I have no snippet for this one yet but hopefully the idea is interesting.

[compassionatereminders]

hey! i've been following your blog for a good couple years now and i always felt sm comfort from the posts you make and reblog, and even the asks you answer so kindly

there's been something that's been bugging me and even if it's been months since it's happened, i'm still left to pick myself up and process it in a way that's not just objective but also a little kinder to myself

i was on my second sem for the year and we were tasked with a major competition project (it was an arts project). naturally, i asked to partner up with one of my friends in the class, because they had strengths that i didn't, and i thought we'd make a great team in combining our strengths together! later on, i started feeling drained being with them because even if it's a partner project, anytime i provide concepts original and personal to me, they'd always shut me down and prefer something they created. i'd always joke to my (now ex) circle that they felt more like a "boss" and i was the "employee" but now i realize how much truth was hidden in that joke. even when we were making the actual artwork and there was a plan to follow, they'd always nitpick on something they want me to quickly modify, they'd get passively frustrated that i'm a bit slow with my part (because i handled majority of the rendering), they even got me to fix their mistakes when i was still busy with my own part for the project. few hours before the deadline, i was made known that another friend in our circle snitched about me, and it caused me to panic and have a meltdown. instead of them gently reminding me to focus on our project, they got visibly upset i was getting distracted.

it didn't even stop there, they were the class president and led the class for the classroom design contest. my classmate and i noticed that they would nitpick on our assigned part so much, while they weren't as demanding of the other two teams. my classmate even wondered if it was because they had something against me and it carried over to our team.

i already left that friend circle after i got snitched on and i had enough of my project partner. but that didn't really help me heal from it because i didn't have anyone i could always go to when i needed comfort. that experience was probably traumatic to me because i started hating going to school and fighting the urge to cry when i hear their voices or sense their presence close by.

at the end of the school year, my close confidante from the class and even my best friend from my hometown told me that what i went through was bullying, if not that, harassment. to this day, i'm still conflicted so i was hoping to ask you if it's an experience i couldn't control. because i still blame myself for not being enough that maybe i couldve prevented what happened,,

No that would have been a really frustrating and upsetting situation for anyone, and it definitely sounds like you had a valid reason to be hurt and upset. I'm so sorry they put you through that ❤️

[your-divine-ribs]

Red Part 10

Words: 2.3k

Red Masterlist Main Masterlist

You turn down the opportunity to watch the band from the coveted spot at the side of the stage, opting instead for the venue main floor, bagging prime position up against the barrier before the crowds start to flood in. You feel uneasy being around Larry now that your head's starting to fill with uncertainties, terrified that you'll let them show before you've had the time to process them and work out exactly what they mean for the future of your relationship. You just want to lose yourself in the music for a few hours, let loose and bounce to the beat, let the melodies flow through your veins and the lyrics scorch your throat as you sing them as loud as you can. A carefree state where your doubts and your desires cease to exist.

You weren't banking on Sophie following you down though as you jumped from the stage and took your position just off centre of the mic, leaning against the metal barrier.

"Thought you'd wanna be up there in the wings, you know... like a proper rockstar's girlfriend." You nudge her gently with your elbow, nodding towards the side of the stage where you can just see Larry emerging with a handful of setlists.

"I was tempted." She smiles in a cat-that-got-the-cream kind of way. "That was kind of like my goal every time I came to a show before, but now I know I can do it, that's enough for me. To be honest I'd rather be down here in the thick of it, you can't beat the atmosphere... and besides, this'll be the best view of Van!"

You smile weakly. Maybe in another life you two could have been close friends, but not this life. You can't help the sickly taste of jealousy that rises like bile in your throat whenever you imagine her and Van together.

Pretty soon the crowds start to fill out the venue and Larry brings you both another pint each. The small talk between you and Sophie flows easily enough but you're still relieved when the support band come on as a distraction. Then it's not long before the main event and you feel your heart thudding in anticipation.

You've been to many a Catfish show but not like this. Before you used to scoff at Van's stage theatrics, rolling your eyes every time a swing of his hips set off a chorus of screams from the female fans, looking on with bemusement at their enraptured expressions. Now you're the one caught in a trance, not able to take your eyes off him as he puts his all into the performance, his lithe body twisting and turning as he thrashes about with his guitar, his skin glistening with a sheen of sweat under the stage lights.

You want him so bad it's a physical ache.

An hour and a half seems to pass in mere minutes and before you know it you and Sophie are caught in the flow of the crowd as they steadily start to file out of the venue, ears ringing and heads buzzing with that awe-like kind of dazed feeling that always accompanies the end of a gig.

"Oh my god they were so good!" Sophie shouts over the noisy murmur of the crowd. "It's definitely time to celebrate! You're coming back to the hotel aren't you? Larry said you'd be up for it."

This is the first you've heard of any post-gig celebrations. Your nerves start to bristle as you imagine having to act normally around Van. Sophie sees your reluctance and links her arm through yours, drawing you close with a pleading smile. "Oh come on Y/N, you gotta come. It's not gonna be the same without you and Larry there."

You mumble out a vague reply, glad that the hordes of fans clamouring for the exit take her attention temporarily and you slip on ahead, heart starting to pound as you leave the crowds behind and check in with security to head down the narrow corridor to the backroom of the venue. You take a few deep breaths as you push through the door and then you step inside, eyes darting wildly about to find Van. You see him straight away, hair dampened with sweat as he rubs a towel over his face and slings it around his neck. He's bearing his usual post-gig glow, but it's never looked this good on him before, eyes bright and pumped up on adrenaline, hands flying about animatedly as he chats with Bondy and another guy you don't recognise. His eyes suddenly flick over to you and you quickly look away to see Larry heading over, the widest of grins lighting up his face.

"Tell me that wasn't Catfish's best ever performance! The crowd were going mental. Did you hear them singing to Pacifier? I thought they were gonna blow the bloody roof off!"

You're looking at Larry but all you can see is Van in your peripheral field, taking your full attention even when you're not focussing on him.

How the fuck does he do that?

It's quite clear now that staying away from him is your only option. You fix on a smile.

"Ahh yeah, the atmosphere was amazing, they were so good!" You step towards Larry as you speak, curling a hand around his waist, drawing him toward the corner of the room, away from Van. "So what's all this about going for drinks at the hotel? You never said anything about it. I really didn't want a late night."

Larry lets out an amused snort. "You? Wanting an early night? Is my little party animal finally calming down, eh?"

His hands find your waist, quickly wrapping around it as he pushes you gently to the wall you're standing against, his eyes warm as he looks at you.

"Well, I have just been ill haven't I? Don't wanna overdo it. And I am kinda tired."

You're not sure if it's the lies slipping from your lips or the way that Larry's fingers are smoothing down over your hips but your gut is churning, a sense of discomfort that you never normally feel with him making you tense.

He moves even closer, his voice lowering to a whisper even though no one else in the noisy room can hear. "I really wanted to go for drinks but I think I'd prefer an early night with you even more. I've missed ya loads, ya know."

You wander if Van's watching on. The thought makes you squirm even more.

You act on impulse, the words breaking free before you've even formed them coherently in your brain.

"Maybe we could go... just for a few drinks. I mean, I don't want to stay late, but we've got to celebrate, right? And the lads will be pissed if we don't show. Bondy won't let me hear the end of it!"

There's the tiniest hint of dismay crossing Larry's countenance but it's gone in a flash. "Yeah, he'll miss his drinking partner for sure! Are you sure you're up to it though? Don't feel like you have to say yes just for me. I'd just as soon as hop in a taxi and..."

"It's fine. I want to go... really." You cut him off with your assurances, eager to go now, your unease increasing at the thought of going back to Larry's and feeling the weight of his body on yours, his kisses trailing down your neck.

This is worse than you thought. You love Larry, you really do. This is just a blip, nothing more. As soon as you get Van out of your system things will go back to normal and you can pick up where you left off. And if not... well, you'll have to cross that bridge when you come to it.

Larry's keen to leave too, muttering about being parched, calling out to Bondy and Bob to ask if they want to share your cab. You keep your eyes firmly fixed on your hands which you're wringing self-consciously as you listen to the lads making their plans. You daren't look up for fear of catching Van's eye.

Bob declines, citing a headache and tiredness as his reason but Bondy's keen, bounding over and throwing an arm over your shoulder. Benji ends up in your little group as you head for the back door, hoping to slip away unnoticed by the fans who are likely gathering outside for a glimpse of their idols. You all make a hasty dash for the awaiting cab, and it's all going so well... that's until you feel the chill of icy raindrops on the skin of your bare arms as you make your way across the car park.

"Shit!" You exclaim, breaking away from Larry who's holding your hand. "Left my jacket inside. I'll just be a minute."

"Hurry up love," Larry urges as you turn away.

"Yeah, be quick. If the fans spot us..." Bondy adds.

"I'll be quick!"

You dash for the door, head down as fat drops of rain begin to lash down on you, so preoccupied with getting inside quickly that you don't realise you're on a collision course until the feel of a hard, warm body brings you to an immediate stop, both of your hands shooting out instinctively to steady yourself on someone's chest.

"Sorry, I wasn't looking where... ohh!"

Your words are broken with a gasp as you look up, eyes locking with Van's. He's inches away, his proximity wrenching any coherent thoughts right out of your head.

"I was just... my jacket... I left it..." you stutter out, dimly aware of people pushing past you, urgent voices calling your name, Van's name. You just can't seem to focus on anything else.

"Yeah, your jacket. I was just coming out to give it to you actually."

More shouts, a car door slamming with force, the beep of a car horn. But there could be World War 3 erupting and you'd still be hard pressed to look away.

It's Van who breaks the spell. "We'd better make a move, the crew say there's loads of fans out the front, they'll no doubt start making their way around any minute."

To your complete surprise he reaches for your hand, pulling you in the direction of the taxi that's just pulled up behind the one occupied by Larry. You let yourself be towed along for a second, bewildered, before you realise what's happening.

"Hey!" You cry, pulling your hand away with force and stopping in your tracks. "What're you doing? I'm going with Larry, not you."

"That taxi's full! C'mon, we're all going to the same place. Just get in!"

"What..."

Your eyes dart to the idling taxi in front of you, widening as the window starts to slide down and Sophie's face appears. "I just jumped in, sorry Y/N, it was raining so hard..."

But she's not offering to get out, she just shoots you an apologetic little smile and before you can even react the taxi starts to pull away from the kerb. She waves as the window starts to close, obscuring your view. You're so horrified by the predicament that you've been left in that you actually consider chasing the vehicle down, wrenching open the door and ordering her to get out, but you stop yourself, aware that it would make you look insane.

"Fuck," you grumble under your breath, slowly turning around to face Van, slicking your rain-soaked hair back off your face.

He's drenched too, his hair plastered to his face in wet strands and his shirt sticking to his body as he gestures towards the remaining taxi. "C'mon then, what are ya waiting for? I'm getting piss wet-through standing 'ere!"

His tone is annoyed but he can't hide the smirk that's curling his lips and it just makes you even more determined not to go with him.

"I can walk!" You blurt out, realising that you've not even put your jacket on yet, distracted as you are. You start to shrug it over your shoulders, wincing at the feel of the sopping wet cotton of your t-shirt clinging to your cold skin.

"In this? Don't be fucking ridiculous! You'll catch your death, it's slinging it down! C'mon... get in."

He pulls open the back door, his free hand outstretched to you and you hesitate, aware that he's right still but in turmoil. Then you imagine what the others would say if you turned up looking like a drowned rat just because you refused to share a cab with Van. They know you two have a rocky relationship but they'd think you'd gone and completely lost your mind and they'd probably be right.

"What's up? Don't you think you'll be able to resist me on a ten minute cab-ride?"

He cracks a shit-eating grin and you're at once reminded of the cocky side to him that's always riled you up. You feel your hackles rising automatically, your old defence mechanism at resisting Van surfacing as you glower at him. You realise that in a strange way you've actually missed it and you're sure that Van has too, a mischievous twinkle in his eye at the recognition that he knows exactly what buttons to push with you.

"In your fucking dreams!" You huff, stomping past him and sliding into the back seat but not moving across to let Van in, hoping he'll get the hint and take the front passenger seat. He doesn't of course, quickly closing the door and racing around to open the opposite one, taking the seat next to you then leaning forward to give the driver the name of the hotel.

You watch him carefully, tension stiffening your body as he clicks his seatbelt into place and sits back, not trying to hide his smirk now, wearing it with pride as he looks across at you.

"Alone at last... finally."

[freeuselandonorris]

As you mentioned fic prompts: I'm not sure this is unhinged enough (although it's André so there's always that possibility) but if you were up for it I'd love to read a James/André shibari fic. Or alternately just them fucking about in Tokyo in general and having a filthy old time.

Also I hope your week improves!

wahh i'm sorry this took me so long! life, and then covid brain fog, got in the way.

anyway, i hope you like this! i had fun revisiting the slutty old tokyo days 🥲

thanks for the prompt and for all the gdocs hype as always! 😘

André puts his feet up on James’s coffee table, dislodging a stack of arty-looking books with his heel. They’ve been drinking steadily for a few hours now; he’s not drunk, just buzzed. 

“Careful,” James says mildly. He’s got the glazed, happy look he gets after a few beers. He’d won at Suzuka two days ago and has been celebrating, in one fashion or another, since. 

André straightens the stack up enough to stop it from toppling completely, then runs his fingers down the spines. James is into all these coffee table books, full of artistic black-and-white nudes and severe-looking women in sculptural clothes. Not really André’s thing, but he has to admit they lend an air of class to James’s otherwise extremely bland Tokyo apartment. The decoration in his own extends about as far as a framed Senna poster in the hallway and his helmet swap collection lined up across the top of the bookcase in the sitting room.

One of the books, halfway down the pile, catches his eye—yellow text on a red background, the title reads ‘ARAKI by ARAKI’. André slips the book out from the pile. The front cover shows a Japanese man holding a banana, kinda punk-looking. Not James’s usual thing at all. 

Curious, André flips it open. At first glance, he can see why James likes it. It’s the Tokyo they know: dive bars and groups of salarymen with loosened ties sitting around their half-discarded otsumami, lines of washing strung between alleyways. 

“This is cool,” he says, flicking through the pages. James, who had been fiddling with the aux cord plugged into his iPhone, trying to get it to connect to the speaker without much luck, looks up.

“Oh, yeah.” He takes a closer look at the page André’s come to a stop on, showing a group of women sitting around a table, deep in conversation, and grins. “You’re not at the good stuff yet, though.”

André raises his eyebrows and takes a swig of beer, flipping through the pages faster. Quickly, it becomes apparent that James was right, when he comes across a section dedicated almost entirely to—well, it’s porn, really. Naked girls, girls touching themselves, sucking cock, spreading their legs for the camera.

“You dirty man,” André says, amused. He can feel his cheeks burning up. “And I thought you were so classy, with your art books.”

James smirks and points the neck of his bottle at the open book. “Tell me that’s not art.”

André looks at the book. It’s a double-page spread, full colour, of a Japanese girl tied in ropes, one white-socked foot barely brushing the tatami mat and the other leg hoisted high. Her eyes are closed, lips parted in pleasure. Her top half is fully clothed in a kimono and obi, but from the waist down the ropes have totally exposed her.

He swallows. It is, undeniably, art. He doesn’t feel like saying that to James though. “Too much bush for my taste,” he jokes instead, pointing at the girl’s extremely well-covered crotch. James snickers and André relaxes slightly. 

Something compels him to keep flicking through, even though it would be far more sensible to put the stupid book back and keep drinking and maybe see if James wants to watch a movie. 

There are a lot more photos of women tied up. The rope is artistically tied in flattering shapes around their bodies, and most of them are suspended from the ceiling or thick posts. André takes a swig of his beer, trying to distract himself from the blush he can feel across his cheeks.

“Took a course on that once,” James says conversationally, having finally got the speaker connected and, unfortunately, now able to pay full attention to André’s journey of discovery.

“What?” André says, momentarily confused.

“Shibari,” says James, and then, at André’s blank look: “The ropes.”

“What?” André repeats stupidly, and mentally shakes himself. He sounds like an idiot.

James looks supremely unfazed. “Yeah, not long after I first got here. I was seeing a girl who was into it, so for her birthday I got us both tickets to a ‘couple’s workshop’.” He leers a bit as he says it, and André’s traitorous cock twitches. 

“Huh,” André says, and swallows. “You should teach me.”

He holds his breath after he says it, expecting James to burst into laughter or recoil in disgust, but James just shrugs and says, “Yeah, alright. I’ve still got the ropes in my room somewhere, hang on.”

He’s up and out of the room before André can backtrack or say he didn’t mean right now or any of the other excuses that leap to the tip of his tongue. André finishes his beer and tries to quell the rising panic in his chest—and the way he can feel his cock fattening up in his pants. 

There’s some crashing about and the sound of drawers and cupboard doors being opened and closed, and André half-prays James can’t find the ropes after all. When James reappears a few minutes later triumphantly waving a small bundle, André tells himself the flip in his stomach isn’t relief. 

“Alright,” James says, eyeing him critically. He’s acting like this is all completely normal, which is making everything ten times worse. “Get your jacket and shoes off and sit on the floor, it’s probably easier with a bit of room.”

For some reason, André complies immediately. He feels ridiculous, sitting there in his socked feet next to the coffee table, watching James untangle a long length of rope from the pile and fold it in half.

“Right,” James comes round to kneel in front of him. “Bear with me, I’ve not done this for a bit. Hold your hands out like this.” He demonstrates, holding his hands out in front of him with the wrists pressed together. André obeys, and James wraps the rope around them twice and then wraps the short end between his wrists and around, knotting the ends. It happens in about five seconds, and André realises he’s been effectively handcuffed. 

“That was fast,” he says thickly. James is still holding the long end of the ropes, and gives it a little tug, grinning.

“Double column tie,” he says, pulling again so André tips forward and has to use his core muscles to steady himself. “Good for tying your girl’s wrists to the headboard.”

“Great,” André says, like he’s going to be able to remember and recreate any of this, like all the blood in his body isn’t rushing southwards every time James tugs on the fucking rope. 

James gives him a long glance, something unreadable in his expression that makes André look away nervously. He undoes the wrist tie and André lets his arms drop, wondering if that’s the end of the demonstration. Apparently not, though, because James shuffles on his knees to sit behind André.

“You can take your T-shirt off for this,” he says offhandedly. “If you want. It looks better that way.”

André hesitates, then pulls his shirt over his head. It would be weirder not to. If he insisted on staying fully clothed, he’d just be drawing attention to the potential awkwardness of the situation, and then James might stop entirely. 

James runs the flat of his hand across André’s shoulder blades. “Put your hands behind your back,” he says. Is it André’s imagination, or does his voice sound lower than usual, a throaty rasp to it? “Bent at the elbows. That’s it.” 

He takes André’s arms and adjusts their position to his liking, pulling his shoulders back and lining his wrists up over each other. André’s used to being manhandled—by physios, by engineers strapping him into a car—but it’s never felt like this before, an electric shock of sensation as James tugs him into place. Something aches in his chest, a desire he can’t put into words. It makes him drop his head forward, close his eyes. 

James loops the rope around his wrists, hand brushing against the small of his back as he tucks the end through and pulls it tight. There’s a bit of fumbling that André guesses is him knotting the rope, and then suddenly James is pressed up against his back, bringing the long free end around his chest. 

Before his brain can tell him not to, André leans back against James. James breathes out a chuckle against the back of his neck. His nipples are stiff beneath his T-shirt, pressed against André’s back. 

Just for a moment, James nuzzles at the curve of his neck, lips brushing over his skin. It’s not quite a kiss, but it’s close. André lets out a breath. His fingertips are already tingling, blood flow restricted by the rope. Maybe that’s why he feels lightheaded. 

“Careful,” James murmurs as he peels himself away and André’s balance falters. He presses a hand against André’s back for a second, steadying him. The skin he’d touched feels cold when he takes his hand away to concentrate on the ropes again. 

He wraps the rope around itself and pulls, the loop around André’s chest suddenly cinching tight. André gasps. 

Swiftly, James kneels up behind him, arms coming around André’s chest once again with the rope, this time tucking it up tight beneath the swell of his pecs. He pulls, hard, and André groans at the pressure, head falling back against James’ shoulder. 

“Good?” James murmurs, doing something complicated with the ropes at the back that suddenly makes everything feel stable even when he takes his hands away. He starts pushing the free end through the tiny gap in André’s armpit where his arms are squeezed against his sides, cinching the rope into a loop around his upper arm and truly pinning him in place.

“Think so,” André says belatedly, licking his dry lips. He feels slightly drunk with it, and it’s not because of the beers he’d had earlier. 

“Certainly seems like you’re enjoying it,” James says with a hint of a chuckle in his voice, and skims his fingertips over André’s waistband, just above his erection.

“Yeah, and you,” André says, too far gone now to care about escalating things, rocking his ass back to where he can feel James’ cock swelling against the seam of his jeans. 

James does laugh then, a breathless inhale.

They’ve forgotten to talk about their girlfriends, forgotten to keep up the charade that this is purely instructional. André gives it one last attempt, thinking about some cute girl, the one he’d been for drinks with a few weeks ago, maybe–how she’d look tied up like this. 

It’s no use. He doesn’t want to think about doing this to someone else. He wants to concentrate on James, right here, doing it to him.

As the thought occurs to him, James moves away, and André realises he’s completely bound.

He wriggles his shoulders experimentally, tries to squirm his hands out of their bonds. He can barely even open his elbows wide enough to move his wrists.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Easier than it looks, right,” James says, very close behind him again. His breath tickles the curve of André’s neck. He tilts his head to the side. To his relief, James takes the bait, bends to scrape his teeth over the tendons and then lick the reddened skin.

James’ right hand sneaks around his waist, hesitating at the button of his jeans. 

“Can I–” James starts, words trailing off uncertainly.

André instinctively tries to grab James’ hand and press it where he wants it, realises he can’t. He curses under his breath and turns his head to the side, pressing his forehead to James’ cheek.

“Yeah,” André manages to grit out, and James lets out a breath. He pushes a hand into André’s jeans. André’s so hard already, the tip wet where it’s been smearing against the inside of his boxers. He wonders whether James will say anything, whether he thinks it’s weird that André is so desperate already. But James just groans against his neck, very quietly, and presses himself against André’s back.

It’s—there’s so much sensation, the tight constriction of the ropes around his upper body mixed with the sweet pressure of James’ hand moving quick and sure over his cock, the warm weight of him from behind. André twists his torso just to feel the way the ropes dig into the meat of his muscles. 

“Yeah,” James breathes against his shoulder, “that’s it,” and then he’s kissing André’s neck again, properly now: mouth hungry and wet with just a scrape of teeth over André’s feverish skin. His hips are moving on their own now, fucking into the tight seal of James’ fist, threatening to destabilise them both where they’re kneeling. 

He shouldn’t look. Looking will make it real, and if it’s real then that means he’s going to have to deal with the aftermath at some point.

Fuck. He can’t not look.

He opens his eyes and stares down the line of his own body, at the way the ropes have bunched his pecs up, his stiff nipples, and finally James’ slender fingers wrapped around his dripping cock. 

He can’t help moaning at the sight. Can’t help it when his stomach clenches and his balls tighten. Can’t help it when he spills all over James’ eager fingers. 

James doesn’t even wait for him to stop shuddering through the aftershocks, just wraps his other arm around André’s waist—another point of restraint—and grinds himself against André’s arse. His bound hands are crushed between them, the covered head of James’ cock bumping up against the heels of his hands. 

Some part of André, the part he usually keeps buried, aches to pull free of his bindings and cover James with his hand, return the favour properly. But he doesn’t know if those are the rules of the game and anyway it’s too late. James’ breath goes short and choppy, his arm tightening around André’s stomach. He pushes his face into the curve of André’s neck. His hips are the only bit of him still moving, twitching spasmodically against André’s ass as he comes into his underwear.

André closes his eyes again, listens to the sound of their mingling harsh breaths. Eventually he has to squirm, reluctant to disturb the fragile peace but suddenly aware that his shoulders are aching where they’re pulled back. 

The motion seems to wake James up from whatever trance he’d fallen into. “You okay?” he says, voice rough, and then his hands are busy in the small of André’s back, undoing the knots he’d put there. 

André nods as James works to free his arms, the ropes falling loose around his chest. 

It’s a lot quicker for James to free him from his bindings than it was to get him into them. His shoulders relax, the muscles protesting at the sudden change in angle.

“Was that–” James starts, and then falls silent. The knots around André’s wrists loosen. His arms drop to his sides, no longer held. 

André takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Good demonstration, huh.”

James swallows audibly behind him. His fingertips brush down André’s spine. 

“There’s more I could show you,” he says. The hesitance in his voice is clear. “If you wanted.”

André closes his eyes, counts to three, and gathers his nerve. He turns to face James. 

“Yeah,” he says, and the lurch in his chest when he sees James’ face relax into a smile is as strong as any orgasm. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

[real-life-senshi]

hellow, i hope so far you´re doing ok since i saw you were struggling a bit with your health. though i'm quite new to your content i finally got the time to check some of your writings, i'd say i ended pretty hooked on them ahsfgsdjhs, tbh i'm not much of a fic reader of anything at all, specially since i don't think i have seen anything sailor moon related since my teens lmao. But i still wanted to let you know that i'm glad i have found it, as i tried to recall some about the pgsm plot (there's a chance i must have ended rewatching it ahsjhdsj and my gosh there were so many subtle things i missed 'cause i watched it when i was quite young haha) there were some other things that came to my mind that i wish were explored on the series, curiously most of it i found it on your fics 🤣 (i really like the way you expanded the pgsm characters through your stories) there were even some parts when i could 100% visualize them, may i have randomly doodle some stuff, who knows(?, oh! and your drawings as well, i saw this one about the Final Act *chef kiss*👌

There are other things i'd like to comment but i don't want to spoil anything as in Ao3 there are only 6 of the rest unlike the other fic site; i'm a big fan of the V manga (it's probably the one i sometimes read to remind myself why Minako is one of my fave characters ever! though my 11 year old self would disagree cause was obssesed with Manga/tokusatsu Mars😂 ) and also the continuity of the past life lore, whether if at some point in a near future as long as you're doing ok, please take care, for real. I'm looking forward to stay tuned if there's anything new from you 🙌

omg omg omg omg!!!!

You are the sweetest! 🥹Thank you for dropping by and leaving this lovely message in my inbox. Your keyboard smashing makes me go askdfhdsafdk as well! It's the highest praise one can give me. LOL😂

And jfc your amazing EoT based art? And there's potentially more doodles???? I can't believe that's happening to one of my stories. It's just not something I thought would ever be possible I don't even know what else to say except for repeating 'thank you' x10000 time.

Your message definitely encouraged me to finish chapter 7 instead of stalling some more. Made my week knowing one more person enjoys my attempt at writing a sequel. <3 My plan for the story is so ambitious sometimes I wonder if I'll be able to finish it. I even have plans to write a past life prequel and hope to do a bridging Black Moon story before introducing a Mugan arc sequel to EoT... That's 3 more stories total... and right now writing at a snail's pace, I don't know if that's ever possible... :'(

I'm finally on the road to recovery so it's getting easier for me to sit in front of my laptop for hours on end again. I've been mostly using video games to distract myself from the discomfort coz I can easily change positions while holding the console with no problem. With a laptop... there's a limitation with the keyboard for writing and the mouse for drawing. (LMAO I still use a mouse to draw. Never learnt to properly use a drawing tablet, even though I bought one long ago it just gathering dust now...)

Yeah... I think I peaked with the final act illustration when it comes to fanart. lol Knowing I did manage to make something with a quality that even surprised me, I've been overthinking and overcomplicating all the new ideas I want to do and then my brain and hand freeze and things are left as wip. 🙈

I'm really glad you enjoy my blog content. I practically owe my life to PGSM, I Iove the series with my whole being, cheesiness and faults and all. So it makes me really happy when my blog can help introduce or reignite interest in the series for other people! <3

I hope you don't mind me posting this reply instead of responding privately. I want to keep your message archived on my blog coz I love it so much. <3

[captain-hawks]

Dee my beloved!! I missed you so very much these past couple of weeks! I have post notifications for you turned on so every time I got a lil notification from you I would be like c: when I saw your url and then :c bc I was usually too distracted/busy to come on here esp bc I need a laptop for the level of word vomit I usually conjure up for your precious thoughts and words.

I hope you're feeling better, so sorry to hear you were sick. I spent 20 hours making over 2 gallons of noodle soup and all its accoutrement for my bf's surprise bday party so I'm virtually sharing it with you. It's a bun rieu with plenty of Dungeness crab topped with lots of fresh veggie and herbs and homemade crab meatballs and herby fish paste and lil porky meatballs.

Did you do anything fun over labor day/are you prepping for fall in any way? I'm switching out my candlessss even though it is still a hellscape where I am and will feel like living on the surface of the sun until November.

I missed your AMA so can I ask now? What's the most embarassing thing that's happened to you in recent memory? Bc I flew home for a wedding and although it was for the son of beloved family friends (the son i also consider a brother figure), some people should not get schwasty in public bc the father of the groom came over loudly proclaim/lament that he wished *i* was becoming his daughter in law instead. At his son's wedding to a very sweet lady I adore. Five separate times. With people all around. I wanted to return 2 the sea. I wanted to be left alone in a corner with the 6 ebooks I had downloaded. I literally hid in a restroom for 75 minutes and risked everybody thinking I had The Shits just so I could get some peace to myself.

Anyways, before I go I am going to leave you with some of the final product of the cake I was telling you about that I was testing different components for. I really wish I could actually share with y'all instead of just telling you and cate about it in chats but until wonkavision is invented I'll pretend sending a pic is the same thing. I settled on double vanilla brown butter cake/pickled cayenne strawberry compote/yuzu and lemon curd liquid cheesecake/graham milk crumb. The layers didn't come out as cleanly as I'd hoped but I might try another one with white and yellow peaches (macerated? Cooked into a jam or Japanese style syrup?) and a Mango curd to squeeze every last bit of summer fruit season out.

If kita-non is around and for some reason bothers to read my inane prattle can i pls share a slice with u too. The couple times I got to skim your thoughts these past few weeks I was spending time offline I wanted to give your brain a big ole squeeze. Just lookin' at the pair of you with hearts in my eyes like look at u guys go torturing us with sweet sweet kita thoughts. We can pretend he supplied the fruits used in the cake ❤

I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE BACK 😭🫶!!!!!

i was still feeling quite cruddy over labour day weekend, but i DID go hunt down the CVS puffer jacket snoopy plushie....a personal accomplishment 😂 (he was hard to find!). also i’m planning to bust out my giant totes of halloween decorations this weekend!!! my fall candles are staring at me adoringly from the closet ready to take over.

I AM SO SORRY FOR YOUR MISFORTUNE????? i cannot believe. i, too, would have called the bathroom my new home to never be perceived again. (has anyone informed sober!dad of his big drunk mouth????)

so this is secondhand embarrassment until i come up with a better story BUT i was on a zoom meeting at work today, and a man was pitching software to my boss & i. said man realized 40 minutes in that the software actually isn’t even available in my geographical region and thus he had completely wasted our time. i watched his soul leave his body through the screen. the most awkward goodbye followed.

also if i magically appear in your pocket at some point like a tiny creature with its hands out begging for food, it’s because every time you describe something you’ve made, i yearn like no tomorrow. that soup sounds divine?? AND THE CAKE!!!!! THE CAKE!!!!!!!! it’s beautiful. it puts other cake to shame. i will dream of this cake. it will haunt me.

[themichigami]

Annoying Spoilers from people and thoughts on Gambit (aka Chanbit)

I've waited long enough, so here we go. Sooo, one of my friends calls me their resident hillbilly translator, any time someone has an american accent usually southern they can't figure out they send me a link and ask me to translate. TWO DAYS before the new deadpool movie is out in theaters here, they message me with a link to a thing all desperately "Miche, Miche, what is he saying?!?" and stupidly i clicked it not knowing... and THIS WAS HOW I FOUND OUT ABOUT GAMBIT BEFORE I WENT TO SEE THE MOVIE!

Let me tell you, i have never been more in a state between utter rage and screeching glee and yet both at the same time in my life. The things they heard from me about it before being put on the "we're not speaking til i'm less mad at you" list have not left a miche's mouth in a long time. And yes, i could translate for em, but did i? no.

Did i secretly rewatch that clip to death til it got removed from twitter before going to the movie myself? mayyyyybe.

First off, I do not find Channing Tatum attractive, he looks like my dad, no really. If you find him attractive, good for you, you probably have the same taste in guys as my mom, which is awesome for you but not my thing. That said, i giggled like an idiot with a giant grin every time even in the theater because he actually managed to finally live his dream and get in the costume after a couple decades of trying, and do a decent job of it onscreen.

Also, yes, I'm annoyed about the eyes. Everything else, good, the eyes, minus fifty points, maybe more. Didn't even need full sclerals just some red lenses, full scleral contacts i'd forgive em not using because I've known enough cosplayers who have trouble with em after long hours, just... they used the Diable Blanc nickname but didn't give him his eyes which was the reason he had the nickname. adding the teeny tiny glow to em using the powers, okay you tried but no star sticker.

The accent, having known a couple people from down that way over the years, yeah not bad that's a damn hard accent to do and it varies all over the place so no one accent covers, could be worse. People are so used to the cartoon version's deliberately fake so that it's easier to understand accent that any attempt at the real thing which is hard as hell to understand already to other people sounds weird, and they were playing it up to be worse for the joke in the movie.

Also, for those who don't know the ancient lore, at one point during the original 90's cartoon casting, they GOT someone with an actual Cajun accent to read for Gambit in the beginning, then decided kids and casual viewers wouldn't be able to understand it so they had another actor IMITATE a watered-down easier-to-understand version of his accent for a test, and decided to go with that idea instead when they cast the final actor.

Buuut, long post is long, so I'll sum up by saying, he may not be the best but he did decent, and i'm slowly no longer ignoring the friend who was a dumbass and spoiled it for me. Also, no, I am not from the south, but get used as the weird accent translator because i am originally from so far deep in the mountains of Appalachia that i had to have several years of speech classes to get rid of the worst of the hillbilly noises i myself made. I still slip once in a while when tired or distracted, but the "city voice" has been in place for around 25/30 years now. One of my first college roommates actually called me Gambit because of it for a few months before i managed to get them to realize I considered it really rude since i was actively trying to hide my own accent at the time. (might also partially have been the fondness for wearing a brown trench coat and bike gloves for most of the late 90's at fault there too)

[chaosandgunpowder]

Plausible Deniability Outtake (Ch6)

I've been working through my WIP files and trashing most of them (no worries, most are just random scenes of PD that have already been posted and are just sitting there gathering dust), except I found this section I cut from the end of chapter 6, because it worked better narratively without it, but if anyone was wondering what Alex did directly after bailing on Thomas I thought I'd share:

Alex takes one look at the empty inside of his own hotel room and promptly lets the door slam closed again without even stepping inside, because his throat is tight and clogged and and his chest hurts and his hands are shaking and sweaty and his head is throbbing and he can't breathe and he can't, can't can't sit alone there with just his own thoughts, with nothing to distract him from the confusion he doesn't want to examine.

Alex knows who he is, and what he's good at, and what he's not. He's not good at confusion. He's not got time for confusion. He's not got the energy for confusion. He's not, in any way, prepared for confusion of any kind.

Especially not confusion over Thomas Jefferson, who had no trouble asking Alex to stay, because he's not confused.

This needs to stay simple.

Fuck.

When John's door opens he's wearing sweatpants and his old Columbia hoodie and it's not until he blinks a few times that Alex realizes how much of a fucking mess he must look, hyperventilating in a hotel room doorway, sweaty and probably smelling exactly like what he'd been doing half an hour ago and his chest pulls a little more painfully at the realization that his best friend knows him far too well, is going to have a damn good idea of what Alex is hiding from-

Except John looks him over, nods to himself, and for once, blessedly, doesn't ask.

“You wanna crack open the minibar and get trashed making fun of the bored housewives that buy all the shit on the shopping channel?” he says instead, and Alex nods fervently.

“Fuck yes, please.”

So if anyone's interested in reading my reasoning, writing about writing, because sometimes I'm Alex and just like hearing myself talk, this was originally the closer for chapter 6, except it just didn't feel right. It made a lot more sense in the tone of the chapter to have it end right on Alex leaving (again). This chapter was all about Alex going from fuck-buddy territory to a place where he's realising he's starting to muddy the lines, and this section would have put him fully into starting the *freaking the fuck out about those muddy lines* portion of his development, which is mostly self-contained in chapter 8.

It also did something really weird to the emotional pace of the chapter, like I hyped Alex right up to manic being upset about Will, and then Thomas calmed him right down, and then yeah, he does get a tiny bit agitated again before he bails, but the chapter's over before it really gets going, whereas with this bit on the end, he starts getting really stressed out all over again, and it starts to feel a bit repetetive and rollercoaster-y.

Also it kinda pulled forward John's realisation that Alex was actually into Thomas to way earlier than it should have been, because although I meant for this scene to come off like he was just being an understanding enabler, it easily reads like John is recognising Alex running away from his *feelings*, and so I took it out to avoid that impression, because John's doesn’t really need to realise that Alex has it bad until much later.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this unnecessary essay. Happy Thursday! :)

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 12

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 1789

Warnings: Pregnancy complications

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks. Also, side note, sorry it's been taking so long to post chapters. A lot's been going on and I haven't been able to write as much as I'd like to :(

Chapter Songs: This Is Me Trying Get To You

****

Hangman

Raptor and Lightning wrestled over a toy in the middle of the living room while Hangman sat on the floor with them, watching and smiling and happy to have a distraction from his worry over Juliette. Four hours passed before he couldn't take it any longer. He grabbed his phone and hesitated over texting Rooster, Maverick, or Ghost. Bradshaw was in a state of panic and may not respond because of that; Maverick was probably just as panicked and trying to deal with that while being there for Rooster; then there was Ghost, who wanted nothing to do with Jake and may not reply at all for that reason. Hangman figured his best option was to text them as a group and hope one of them responded. He swiftly sent the message and impatiently waited for an answer. It came a few moments later. To his surprise, Ghost had been the one to text back.

Mav and I are still waiting for an update. Rooster is back with Juliette. Let you know ASAP once we have more info ourselves. Ghost replied. A second text followed from Maverick stating: Jules is going to be okay. Of that, we're certain. Just not sure what caused her to pass out. They're running tests last we heard.

Hangman breathed a sigh of relief. At least Princess was okay. Still, he wondered what caused her to faint because she'd seemed fine outside of the headache earlier. Jake thanked Maverick and Ghost for the update and told them to keep him informed if they received any further information. He stood up and stretched, suddenly feeling antsy. Hangman hated to sit still for too long. When he did, it allowed his mind to wander to areas he didn't want it to- dark places, dark memories, and dark thoughts.

"You boys want to go get a pup cup from somewhere? I don't think your parents will mind," Hangman said, believing it'd still be a while before Princess and Bradshaw returned. He left a note for them stating where he'd gone in case he ended up being wrong, then loaded the dogs into the backseat of his truck. Raptor and Lightning happily wagged their tails and hung their heads out the window. The trip took twenty minutes, mainly due to traffic, but Hangman didn't mind, nor did the dogs. They happily devoured the pup cups while Jake ate his own ice cream, then they headed home. He tried playing with the dogs, but they weren't engaged, choosing to sleep on the couch instead. Hangman tried watching TV, but the awful news and the bad shows were wholly uninteresting. He even tried napping, and while he fell asleep for a few hours, it was light and restless. Irked, Hangman got up and shuffled to the hallway, deciding the best way to take his mind off things was to work out. Rooster and Juliette had a small gym with just enough equipment that Hangman could keep himself preoccupied for a while. He slipped off his shirt and went to work, jogging on the treadmill for half an hour and lifting weights for another thirty.

Hangman finished his workout with a hefty two-hundred pull-ups. He could've done more, but his body told him to stop. Lowering himself to the ground, he started to readjust his hat when someone shouted over his music, "Jake!"

"Fuck me!" Hangman exclaimed, whirling around to find Ghost standing in the doorway. Her gaze trailed up his body, but she only quirked an eyebrow. Jake bent over to catch his breath, heart no longer thundering from the exercise but from fright. When he straightened himself back up, he said, "Living up to your callsign, I see."

"Just wanted to let you know Juliette and Rooster are home."

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Hangman demanded, grabbing his shirt and tossing it on.

"I thought it'd be a rational assumption on your part that if I was here, they would be."

"Yeah, well, hard to think when you nearly scared me half to death." Before Ghost could remark, Hangman hurried to the living room, where he heard Juliette and Rooster loving on their dogs. He came to a halt and smiled broadly at the sight of Jules sitting on the floor with the dogs. "Princess! Good to see you up and walking."

"Glad to be up and walking," Juliette replied, pushing herself onto the couch.

"So? What's the verdict? What happened?"

"I apparently have a rapid onset of pre-eclampsia, which is basically high blood pressure. Add that in with the heat today, and it was a recipe for disaster. They're keeping an eye on it, but I don't need to be hospitalized for it so far."

He patted her shoulder affectionately. "Knew you'd be all right."

"It's going to take a lot more than high blood pressure to take me down," Juliette declared with a smile, albeit a tired one. "Thank you so much for taking care of the dogs. Did they behave?"

"Of course. They even got pup cups. They're happy their parents are home, though."

"They always love seeing their Uncle Jake too." A giant thunderclap effectively garnered everyone's attention. Juliette frowned. "That wasn't in the forecast."

Ghost peered out the window with a grimace, a flash of lightning illuminating her face. "No, but they never get it right anyways. Didn't think the lightning we saw on our way home would turn into this, though."

Juliette glanced at her phone. "It's one in the morning. I don't want y'all driving in this weather this late at night. We only have one guest room, and it's one bed, but-"

"Ghost can have it. I don't mind driving in this," Hangman said, peering at the torrential downpour and trying to hide his distaste. He never liked storms after. It reminded him too much of the day his mom died. "I've driven in worse back in Texas."

"Well, I mind. For my sanity, please spend the night and leave in the morning. You already look like you're about to pass out."

Hangman quickly stopped his yawn in order to argue, but when Juliette placed her hands on her hips, he knew better than to do so. Relenting, Jake said he'd take the couch so Ghost could take the guest bed. She thanked him, hesitated, then shuffled off to her room. Juliette grabbed some of Rooster's clothes for Hangman to use as pajamas, to which Jake joked, "Surprised they don't have Hawaiian print on them."

It caused Juliette to chuckle, and she said, "Oh, he definitely has some, but you didn't hear that from me! On a different note, you know where everything is, so make yourself at home. Are you sure you'll be okay on the couch?"

"Don't worry about me, Princess. Don't want to raise that blood pressure of yours any higher."

Juliette sighed. "Don't remind me. Rooster's staying calm because you and Ghost are here, but he's worried. I can see it."

"We all are," Hangman admitted. "You gave us all a good scare."

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"I'll let the Daggers know in the morning you're okay. For now, I think you better get to bed. Bradshaw's waiting for you. Night, Princess."

"Goodnight, Hangman." He watched her waddle off to her bedroom, then made his way to the bathroom. He changed into the gray sweatpants but opted to sleep shirtless. He'd never liked sleeping with a shirt anyway. He collapsed onto the couch and believed he'd fall asleep within seconds because, truthfully, he was exhausted. Between being in the sun all day, dogfight football, the emotional toll from the phone call with his brother, the heated discussion with Ghost, Juliette's situation and his concern for her, and the fact that his childhood memories had been rising up with a vengeful fury ever since Ghost arrived, it was no wonder. Naturally, though, sleep refused to grace him. He tossed and turned for over an hour. He couldn't blame the couch because the Bradshaws had a ridiculously comfortable and roomy one. It felt like a damn cloud, and he'd fallen asleep on it before with no problem. So why could he not now?

With a sigh, Hangman sat up and checked the time: 1:00 a.m. At least he didn't have an early day in the morning, so he could possibly sleep in a little bit to make up for his current insomnia. Jake got up to go to the kitchen, padding quietly to avoid waking anyone up. As he passed the hallway, he noticed the faint glow of a lamp coming from the guest bedroom. Either Ghost remained awake like him, or she'd fallen asleep with the light on. Both were plausible explanations knowing her.

Hangman made it to the kitchen and rummaged through the tea bags. Juliette loved tea, so he had a variety to choose from, but he knew what he wanted. With the pantry meticulously organized and the tea alphabetized, Jake found the chamomile tea bags easily. He then watched the water boil, falling into a tired trance. Hangman would've stayed like that had he not heard the faintest noise behind him. Turning around revealed Ghost starting to leave, her dog tags clenched in her fist.

"Do you want some tea?" Hangman asked.

Ghost halted in her steps, looking like a deer in headlights at being caught by him. She eyed the tea, briefly debating it, then shook her head, "No, thank you, though. I was just checking to see who was up. That's all. Have a good night."

Ghost departed before Hangman could respond, but he recognized her telltale sign of anxiety. Jake poured the boiling water into his mug, added a large spoonful of sugar, quietly brought it to her room, and knocked on her door. She opened it, staring at him curiously and still clutching her dog tags. Hangman offered her the steaming cup of tea and said, "I know you said no, but you seemed like you could use it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ghost asked warily, although she accepted the tea.

"You fiddle with your necklace when you're anxious or deep in thought. Between having to deal with me since your arrival and handling the situation with Juliette, it's understandable."

"Jake-"

"I'll leave you be. I'm going to get my own tea. Night, Annalise."

"Good night. And thank you for this."

Ghost sounded like she wanted to say more but must've thought better, and Hangman didn't prod. For now, he'd simply appreciate that they'd held a civil conversation- no matter how short it was- without any insults or jabs at each other, and it gave him hope that one day, they could rekindle their friendship.

****

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @bradshawsandbridgetons @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @mak-32 @midnightmagpiemama @luckyladycreator2 @ellamae021 @kmc1989

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12

If you're not on the tag list and want to be, just let me know :)

[akinosenoragami]

Starless daze

A Blackstar theater starless Kagepro au.

I've been really into kagerou project again recently. And so I decided to write this fanfiction. So far I'm still figuring out the cast and such so please be patient with me.

This was also posted on ao3. Enjoy.

Summary

Taiga is a shut in who hasn't left his house in 2 years, one August 14th he gets into an argument with Mizuki a boy who lives in his computer, jump scared by his brother barging into his room and spills coffee on his keyboard and is forced to go to the mall. he is then faced with a hostage situation, teenagers with super powers and black eyes that call themselves the Kurohoshi dan and secrets that slowly come to light about the mysterious group, himself and everyone else around him.

First chapter: an artificial enemy

It was a hot August day. Summer has already started, children are out of school for summer break, the cicadas are out and about singing loud, and then you have Taiga. 

"Hey, are you sure you don't wanna go outside?" 

"Not, now Mizuki I'm busy." 

This is Taiga, a shut-in who doesn't leave the house yet somehow is able to get work as a freelance engineer, and lives with his older brother. 

"Busy with what? You're currently on discord talking about the latest shooter you've played and complaining how the quality is shit." 

"It's called taking a break. And I'm not saying it's shit, I'm reviewing it. Now go back to whatever you were doing."

"What ev' " 

And that is Mizuki, a digital being that lives in Taiga's computer that just magically appeared one day from an email. Loves to bug Taiga to go outside. 

"C'mon the weather is so nice out!"

"And by nice you mean scorching hot. I'd die out there before reaching my destination." 

"So what If you die. I'll just ask your brother to pack you some water instead of coffee." 

"You're evil. You know coffee is my bloodline." 

"Not anymore Bitch." 

They continued the conversation back and forth until, “Taiga! I’m heading to the mall. Do you need anything?” Nekome said as he stuck his head in startling Taiga, causing him to fall back on his chair, kicking the table and sending the mug of coffee flying with the liquid landing on his keyboard.

“Ah…that’s a goner alright.” Mizuki commented

“Argh! Aniki!!!” 

“Sorry, did I scare you?” 

And this here folks is Nekome, Taiga’s older brother. Unfortunately we don’t know much about him.

“I thought we already went over this! Knock first before entering, stupid brother!” 

“Sorry I was just going to ask if you’d like to come to the mall with me.”

“...Not like I’ve got a choice.”

“Hey there Nekome!” 

“Hello Mizuki, would you like to come with us?” 

“Hell Yeah!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few minutes later we skipped to the three of them on the way to the mall. 

“I told you it was scorching hot…” 

“ C’mon Taiga, we're just a few blocks away from air conditioning!”

“Mizuki. Shut up. You’re not helping.”

“Now now, Taiga, don't be like that Mizuki was only trying to cheer you on.” 

“Oi Nekome, make sure you give this fucker plenty of water.”

“Hey!”

“Alright you two.” 

____________________________________________________________________________

“Alright we’re here!” 

“haa…ha….Finally.”

“Alright, I’m going to find some lightbulbs. Meetup back here in an hour or so alright.” 

“Alright.” 

Taiga and Mizuki then proceeded to part ways with Nekome in search for a new keyboard. Meanwhile Mizuki gets distracted by all the stuff that’s around them. 

“Taiga, look at that! Doesn’t that skate deck look cool?!” 

“I’ve got no idea what you’re going on about. Besides, we're looking for a keyboard, not a skateboard."

"Boo what the fuck, you're no fun." 

“I’m only interested if it’s essential. Now then where are the electronics- ugh.” 

“Sorry. I wasn’t looking.” a stranger with long hot pink hair apologized.

“It’s alright, it's also my bad I didn’t see you there.” Taiga replied. As soon as he lifted his head the stranger had mysteriously vanished. 

“What the- Where’d he go?”

“Pfft- Taiga that was lame af.” 

“Zip it Mizuki.”

A couple of seconds later they were soon greeted with a smoke bomb, “Cough, cough, What the hell is going on?!” Taiga asked, confused by the situation, only to be met with a metal pipe to the head.

“Taiga! Oi Taiga! Wake Up Taiga!” 

“Ugh…what the?”

“Taiga! Thank god you’re awake!” Nekome said as he sat right next to him. 

“Aniki?”

“Oh great you’re finally awake motherfucker.”

“Mizuki?”

“Attention all shoppers, this floor is now under our control, we have hostages and we want a 3 billion yen ransom. To the mall owner. If you are unable to provide the money, who knows what will happen to these poor hostages. You have no way to open the safety shutters on this floor.” 

“Yeah. Current situation, you are being held hostage.”

“Eh?” Taiga looked around him and noticed the zip ties on his thumbs tied to the back.”

“They got me too unfortunately haha. " Nekome said as he laughed it off.

"Well this is one hell of a predicament." Taiga complained. 

"Nice hell of a predicament you're in. " 

"Woah! Who are you?" 

" The name's Akira. And I got myself into a pickle just like you."

"Huh…" 

"So? What about you? What's your name?" 

"Taiga."

"So…Taiga…do you have a plan?" 

Looking around Taiga Stas forming strategies in his head.

"Actually I do." 

"Wait for real?! Like an actual plan?"

"Yeah."

"Hear that Sotetsu?" 

"Loud and clear." 

"Uagh! Since when were you there?!" 

"He's been here the whole time." 

“Aight…so what’s the plan?” 

“ I’m gonna make a dash for it. Computer over there’s got like a usb-c cable. I can hook it up and let Mizuki loose on the terrorist system. But I’m gonna need a diversion”

“You got it.” Akira says with a smirk.

“Ow! Watch it dickhead!” the terrorist leader said as he grabbed one of his lackeys by the collar.    

Soon the whole place started crashing down, TVs started falling over, shelves started coming down. The whole place is in chaos as people start screaming. 

By the confusion Taiga makes a mad dash towards the other side of the floor, but one of the lackeys grabs him by his shirt. “Where do you think you’re going huh?”, only to be met with a smack to the head by none other than Nekome, “What do you think you’re doing to my brother huh?” Taiga gets freed from the lackey’s grip. “ Thanks bro!” Taiga says as he continues on.

Finally reaching the computers, Taiga pulls out his phone. “Alright Mizuki… Your Turn!” 

“Leave it to me.”

Plugging his phone to the cable, the terrorist network gets taken over. “Ha Ha, system overload complete, take that motherfuckers!!! Muahahahaha!”

As the safety shutters lift up flooding the floor with daylight, Taiga begins to feel dizzy and faints. 

“Taiga! Are you okay?!” Mizuki panics, As Taiga starts to black out. 

To be continued.

[kursed-arcana]

A few days ago I had a heart attack. I'm only 28, and had complete blockage of an artery. The whole experience was a living nightmare. From the pain in my chest and both arms, to waiting in the er for a couple hours, to having them repeatedly poke ny left arm and had trying trying to give me a second iv.

When I was rushed to the cath lab, I was terrified, and it got worse when they told me I'd be under twilight anesthesia. As they taped my wrist down and proceeded to pierce my wrist I could hear the puncture and feel it. I immediately was filled with more dread. I tried to distract myself from the procedure by thinking of things I loved, like my favorite characters cheering me on, Telling me I'll survive. I desperately prayed to God to be saved. I was filled with existential dread and thought of how I achieved nothing with my life. I never achieved any of my dreams. I didn't become a voice actor, I didn't get one of my stories published as a book. I never managed to write for a TV series. I never became happy with how I looked or became the woman I wanted to be since childhood. And eventually I had to vomit. So they gave me something to vomit in and something for the nausea. At this point I started to want to die. I thought death would be better then this going on any longer. Being conscious was truly a waking nightmare. I just desperately wanted to die instead of being aware of what they were doing inside my body. I remember listening to their words about what to do, about the stent, the sounds of the machine overhead moving, the image on screen to my left, which was of my heart, maybe taken before the procedure or during. I remember asking to vomit again and being told to bear with it a little longer and turning my head a little in case I couldn't keep it down.

I remember too much of it all. The procedure ending, them letting ny parents in to talk to me. And me not being able to hold back my tears any longer. Me apologizing for inconvenience my parents with this and being surprised my mom was there too when my dad took me to the er. I remember my mom's insensitive remark saying maybe this experience will make me a nicer or more grateful person or change me in a positive way. I remember them moving me to a room and telling my parents since it's late they can leave if they want, my dad making a remark about me trying to get rid of them (a joke ), and my worried look on my face getting the Nurse to get them to leave my room and ask me if I feel safe with them. I honestly felt so relieved to have someone ask me that. I often worry I'm a terrible person, it felt reassuring to have someone validate the fact that my parents are kind of assholes to me sometimes, to feel like I'm not the problem they make me feel like I am. I had a heart attack at 28 and while I was still processing that, both of my parents had to make me feel small in some way.

I am still dealing with my existential dread and the haunting nightmares of being back on that table, awake the whole time even though I couldn't fully feel anything. However, at least I finally had people validate my feelings in regards to my parents remarks about me. It's one thing to tell people about it, but it's another thing to have someone witness it and reassure me.

I am thankful to that nurse and every nurse who looked over me while I was there. I am terrified for my future, terrified of what this means for my life going forward, overwhlmed by the new medications i have to take on top of the large amount i already have desperate to feel like I can accomplish something to make my life worth living. I want to believe I can move forward. That I can get my books published. That I can voice a character I love in the future. That I can become the woman I am on the inside. That I can achieve my dreams. I want to believe in myself.

I have more to say, including some transphobia i sxperienced, but I'll make it a different post later. For any random person reading this, I guess thank you for your time.

[whythewords]

Expedition

Goodness me, it's been a weird few weeks. But it actually hasn't. I think I'm using that as a turn of phrase to identify that in the intervening weeks since that last post, I've had a few deeply sad and lonely days amidst an otherwise "normal" time. Maybe pepper in a few revelations about what I want out of life and how soon I want it. But technically this is all "normal" ain't it? We go about living our lives in between the milestones of total befuddlement as to how in the hell we got where we are, for better or for worse.

I went to check out a concert last Friday. It was a mostly acoustic show in a tiny little venue, a little tavern/restaurant in Toronto. I remember a time when I was so staunchly anti-city, and that sentiment returned when I was only working out there and still living in Mississauga, but at some point in between then and when I was actually living there (or much closer to it) I romanticized the hell out of it. It was also for the two years that I was single between my first and second stints dating my now ex-wife. I'm starting to think it wasn't the city I was romanticizing, it was the concept of discovering it on my own. Going out mid-week, doing more open mics, getting drunk on a Tuesday and stumbling onto the subway to get home. In a weird way, I romanticized my single-hood at the time, but I also recall it took me so long to get to that place. I remember those times vividly, and for most of them I was miserable.

Part of me feels as if I'm clawing my way back to that sense of wonder and self-discovery, but that misery hits at the exact same time. This show on Friday was the second solo concert I'd been to in the last couple of months, and the feelings were the same each time... Realizing now that I didn't even talk about the first one though it was in March: It was a John Mayer solo acoustic show at ScotiaBank Arena. As I sat alone in my seat with strangers on either side of me waiting for the show to start, I felt that profound loneliness that I thought was reserved for the darkened room in my folks' apartment, in the wee hours of the morning with my face lit up by the glow of my phone. It was there in full force and it was all I could do not to think about how I was the "weird guy all alone at the concert." It's moments like these I feel fortunate that I'm a music guy. The show started, the music took a hold and I settled into it and forgot about those feelings and enjoyed the show. Ironically, my ex happened to be at that show too and I met with her briefly after to "say hi." And it was fine, we were good and amiable but I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel weird. Concerts were an activity we enjoyed together a fair bit when we were, well, together.

So that was the arena show. Flash forward to this past Friday at a tiny little venue, Eric Hutchinson at the Dakota Tavern. I was sitting at some tables with strangers and there's that same familiar feeling, now with the added bonus of this weird pressure I've put on myself to be more outgoing and chatty because "maybe I'll meet someone." The lonely feelings lingered into the opening few numbers of the set and it was a little while before I settled into the distraction, and I don't even know that I fully settled in. It took until after the entire set was over and I was milling around the bar waiting to meet the Eric (he came out afterward to take pictures and chat with fans) that I actually made an attempt to strike up a conversation with a stranger. It was fine, friendly, and I kicked myself for not saying something sooner, but by this point many of us (myself included) were looking to get our photo and chat with Eric and then head out.

I got on the subway home and reflected on the lonely feeling and thought about what I could have done differently....all of these thoughts swirled around instead of me reflecting on the show and that I got to chat with an artist I admired and get a photo with him. I meandered from Kipling to one of my new favourite shawarma joints that was in the area for a late night pick-me-up, still got home early enough to properly wind down for the night. I mean, fuck, it was a pretty great night all in all, both of those shows were...but that feeling man, it's been chasing me. And I'm not even all about the dating thing right now. I threw the apps back on my phone and I can barely stand to look at them, don't even know why they're there.

To get deeper into the thought process, my plan for battling these feelings was to keep my head down and keep working on myself until I get to that inevitable "reinvnention." "It'll be different man. When I have my own place, and a new job in a new town...like Halifax perhaps." Yep, that idea is still on my mind. And It's getting harder and harder to contend with the fact that I'm not there yet now that pretty much everything else has fallen into place. I have all of my independence except for that one key, very important part of it...that accounts for like 98% of it. All of the rare moments when my folks have left the apartment for a night, hell even for an afternoon, are the most joyful and peaceful moments of my entire week or month. I need that feeling. I need to get out. I need to exact and execute the plan of working for a year or a year and a half and then trekking out east to (overdramatic as it fucking sounds): "build a new life." But even that job man...I mean it's going fine, but a year? Year and a half? I don't think I can wait that long anymore. I don't know how much better real estate prices are going to get over here, or how much shittier they're going to get over there over the course of a year.

I'm thinking a lot. Not the first time I've pointed it out, but I know this desire for solitude as well as this profound loneliness are completely at odds...but solitude fucking wins out. I need to get there, to get my head right and be with myself for a while so that I can be ready and willing to be with someone else. I think that's what the hesitance and timidness boil down to, a lack of readiness. But the last piece of the puzzle to get where I need to go emotionally and mentally, is to get the fuck away from everything else physically. The moving away thing. Just like the Japan trip, it started out as kind of a pipe dream, and as time went on it seemed like more and more of a potential reality...or a necessity. I think I gotta do it. I think that I NEED it. And I think I gotta expedite the process. I'm heading out there on vacation in July. Maybe that ought to be more than a vacation. Maybe I ought to start scouting things out, looking for a plot of land to finally finish rebuilding this fucking machine.

It's almost fully operational...almost.