#i'm glad the author has another project lined up

[vaya-writes]

Hello! :D

I am unfortunately so bad at leaving comments in a timely manner, (mainly because oh my god I want to talk about every detail and the day does not have enough hours for me to sit down and write a comment I'm satisfied with so procrastination hits pretty badly on that regard gdjsgsjsv) but! I wanted to come and say that Serving the Serpent has me absolutely captivated and I'm so excited to see where the story is going!

Briar is such a great protagonist and (while I don't have selective mutism) I relate a lot to her quieter nature, and can sympathize a lot with all her thought processes. What we know so far of her backstory really aligns with how she behaves and her fear of stepping out of line, but seeing how she thinks it's clear she has that spark in her that wants to take those small moments of silent rebellion in whatever ways she can have them. Nothing that could get her in trouble, but there are those hints of a strength she has that want to shine through now and again. I really feel for her and love her as a character!

And Isen! He's very charming and friendly, and seems to care so much about what he does and who he takes care of. I can definitely see how he can get on people's nerves with the teasing sometimes haha, but clearly he takes people's levels of comfort seriously when interacting with them. It broke my heart a little learning how much he had to strain himself to meet expectations and it's interesting how despite coming from wildly different backgrounds and levels of privilege, it's something that both him and Briar can relate to.

Not to mention the other characters so far! They might not appear as much as the main protagonists, but each feel really unique and consistent and I love learning the little tidbits we can about their lives and personalities.

Also, also the world you have created so far is so interesting and I'm really interested to see how it develops even more as the story progresses.

Aaagh, I know I want to say so much more, but this is already so long. I promise I'll eventually get to commenting on the specifics of each chapter! (I don't know if the story is in AO3 as well, or just on tumblr, so I don't know if you would prefer those comments this same way through asks, or maybe through a reblog, because I know the comment section of a post has a very small character limit and as you can see, I talk too much XD) But yeah! Amazing work and I'm excited to read what comes next! ^-^

I'm glad you like the story and characters so much <3 I've found that the characters in StS are a lot stronger than the characters I envisioned in my last big project, The Wyvern's Bride. Probably because I mulled them over a lot and thought a lot about them before jumping into writing. And I've had some practice putting less author voice into their dialogues. But I'm so glad you appreciate them <3

I'm pretty pleased with the world building I've done. I tend to dislike having to come up with stuff on the fly while I'm writing so it was another thing I thought about in detail before actually starting. I look forward to sharing more of the details with you :)

The story is on AO3 and on tumblr. I don't mind where you prefer to comment or how long your comments are, go absolutely ham. I will say that the story will travel further if you reblog with your comments (as comments or in tags) whereas if you message me directly, reach will be less far. But that's more for me to consider than for you.

Have a lovely lovely lovely day!!!

[amrv-5]

HI ⭐️! (loved Droughtland, would love to hear commentary) :)

HELLO and THANK YOU FOR THE ASK and I'm SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT I loved WRITING IT ARGHH!!!! Also tagging in @catgrub who asked the same just a few minutes later -- HELLO and THANK YOU ZANE!!! Since there were two recs for Droughtland I feel like the extreme length of the following Commentary can be excused.

(For context: I realized I've got 0 idea of how to do a Director's Commentary except for ones I've seen where directors just rewatch their own movie and speak overtop of it, so, I did the same except with reading and typing. This is my read-along author commentary on Droughtland, arranged in chronological order--feel free to look at it with the OG, or not, it should stand alone just fine. Or ignore it entirely. My god it's fucking long, so sorry. Anyway, onwards.)

Okay close reading. Okay commentary. Engaging on this journey together yaaaay.

[Iowa, 1962]

Okay, from the first line, we’re invoking concerns of location, identity, belonging, otherness—Radar struggling to adjust to home because he senses he’s been changed by his experiences in a way that makes him incompatible with the life he used to lead. He’s good at his job, we sense that he’s well-respected, but he’s undeniably not entirely present. Everything he does, sees, thinks, remembers, ends up in service of the Project, which I think I’ve (maybe not obviously or even all that consciously) tried to imply has an element of spiritual or religious calling to it, given that we’re introduced to it in a church. 

And retrospectively enjoying the complexity of Radar running the line between escapism and catharsis in his writing at the end of this first section. He misses the people he was close to, that much is clear, and writing is a way to feel close to them. And yet he’s also mentally returning over and over again to a war. A theme I’ve played with in the background of my BeejHawk fics, and more centrally in Droughtland, is one I sort of cribbed from Michael Herr’s Dispatches: Who are you after the most defining event of your life has ended?

[Iowa, 1952]

...And who are you when you KNOW the most defining event of your life has ended? That’s not to say the War Was A Good Experience and One To Reminisce Over. In fact the war being experientially horrific only complicates this idea more. I’m fascinated by how somebody goes about the rest of their life knowing with near-certainty that anything / everything they experience will likely never be as impactful on their sense of self and arc of life than a single past event. Anyway, this ends up concerning Radar greatly, who moves from that Defining Event—Drafted Into the Korean War—back to the rhythms of family and farm life, where he expects himself to be content with the life he’d always assumed he’d have. Actually I’ve read more and realized I had him state that concern textually, rendering this redundant. Ah well. Moving on. 

Okay, something else—Radar and writing and fiction and voice. I wanted to get across very clearly that the driving force of his writing is a direct desire to communicate—his first attempt at beginning the book takes the form of an introduction (“My name is Radar O’Reilly”), and he states that writing lets a fellow talk to people who aren’t around. The silent implication being, then, that he’s got no-one real to talk to. Another important set of questions getting kicked around in this piece: Why do we write? Is writing still communication if it’s never shared?

I wanted to play with the idea specifically of writing in relation to loneliness. If you’ve got nobody to talk to, or no way to express yourself meaningfully, or nobody who is interested in understanding you, it makes a lot of sense to sink into the realm of the creative, which we see Radar do here very explicitly. He doesn’t have any close connections, really, or at least not ones he thinks he can explain his new sense of self to, so he turns to writing. Summoning the last people who really understood how he felt, in some ways, writing to communicate with people who are dead or gone from him. Making some record of himself, his experiences, the way he sees the world—an attestation of self, or something, in direct defiance of a landscape and life that feels flat, uncaring, inaccessible—he starts writing alone in a field.

[Iowa, 1959]

Next—mm, field fire section, which was my favorite to write. I’m clearly and obviously soft for rural concerns. I know it’s been pointed out that my voice is significantly different in this fic than in my others, and I’ll admit that I did dip into the author-voice I usually reserve for my personal fictionalizations of family histories, which largely concern, go figure, rural American questions of identity, place, belonging, family, fulfillment, etc. And yet the usual Vonnegut-y sensibilities aren’t wholly gone—the idea of Radar being a volunteer fireman was lifted both from Vonnegut’s life AND volunteer firefighters' positioning in his work as bastions of selfless humanity and civic duty. I like the idea of a latently lonely Radar doing all these very quiet upright civically-minded things. Frequently good people are dealt bad hands, and aren’t cared for by their communities, and still go on doing good anyway. 

[Iowa, 1963]

Reading on—and the arrival of BeejHawk. It’s been long enough by this point that Radar’s sort of been subsumed by the Project. We see that tendency in him as he anticipates seeing ‘Dr. Pierce’ and meets Hawkeye instead.

And then—AH! At last! The title is Droughtland, obviously, and that’s a multivalent image, but here’s at least one moment and facet of relief: Sometimes, he thought, a fellow just needed words. Words and words and words like rain on a drought. And the good doctors Pierce and Hunnicutt had always known how to talk up a storm. 

As much as it’s a relief, it’s also destabilizing to suddenly have people notice him after so long living almost entirely within himself—Hawkeye calling him Radar shocks him into silence—wow, I’m realizing belatedly just HOW MUCH this fic is about loneliness, actually. Funny the things you can catch on a reread. His name is important, that’s all, and Hawkeye would understand that. 

Meanwhile BeejHawk as a unit are very clearly sensing something wrong—not wrong, maybe, but not all right, either. Radar’s Restaurant Allegory is key here as he admits that ‘enjoyment’ is absolutely meaningless in the context of his life—it doesn’t matter if you like the restaurant if it’s the only option. It’s not that he likes or dislikes it—it’s that forming and expressing an opinion would be pointless. This is a stand-in for his opinion on life, which Hawkeye finds distressing, though I think he’d agree with Radar to a degree on his related idea that happiness, delight, joy are intentional practices more than consistent feelings (another idea cribbed from elsewhere: Ross Gay’s Book of Delights, which I am coming to realize sunk way more deeply into my psyche at age 19 than I thought. I may elaborate someday if there’s ever an interest in Parker Creative Nonfiction because the story’s sort of ???, but also, maybe not).

Anyway, Hawk at last manages to drag a bit of real sentiment out of Radar: writing, and the Project, where so much of his internal life is focused (Hawk makes a Lot’s wife joke, because of course he does, but also I like him invoking a story where somebody looks backward on something terrible and suffers for their inability to turn away). 

And from here Radar takes the plunge and finally gives all that lonely writing an audience. Terrifying, but it pays off—Hawk affirms that he’s very good (important to me that Radar’s very good as a writer coming from outside a formal academic context. Everybody has the potential to create resonant art, and I wanted to be clear that Radar’s interest in something like the Iowa Writer’s Workshop isn’t the need to be Validated by the Institution or to Escape some sort of poorly-informed or condescending vision of Rural Nonintellectualism (bad themes!!! I hate them!!! NOT at play here, or at least consciously attempted to subvert) but as an extension of the desire for artistic community. To be seen and heard, instead of all the silent listening he’s been doing for years.)

The tradeoff of communicating, by the way—Hawk is a good listener, and picks up on a number of things maybe Radar wasn’t even aware he was revealing in his work—loneliness, vague dissatisfaction, a focus on finding interior fulfillment when the external world fails to provide. Scary, destabilizing, embarrassing… but eventually very, very good. For Radar, at least, who’s suddenly feeling like he’s allowed to want something. 

Moving on. Hawkeye’s reaction to learning he’s a part of Radar’s Project. Obviously he’s worried about how he’s going to come across. I think it’s a very scary thing to be the object of cameras, of writerly gaze, all of it, because it creates an image that exists entirely outside the object's control. How horrifying/enticing/awful/fascinating it’s got to be to be able to find out how you exist in another person’s mind… and when that image was formed in the lowest years of your life… of course Hawk’s apprehensive. And clearly it rattles him—but maybe in the way any really, really resonant art rattles us, based on his next-morning response. 

Hawk comes downstairs and we get this baffling little kiss scene, which I’ll be honest I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant when I was writing, only that it felt right. But now I’m thinking it’s clearly an exchange of seeing—Hawk feels he’s been thoroughly Seen in Radar’s work, for better or worse, and comes downstairs to communicate in this abstract way that he sees Radar, too—and affirms what he sees. 

So we end with these moments, finally, of communication and understanding and connection. Very obviously there’s the Hawk-Radar connection, which is so intense and emotive it’s basically psychic (what's good writing if not successfully communicating an idea or image with all original emotive force and vividness from one mind to another?). There’s also Beej, who isn’t Hawk’s brand of incidentally clairvoyant, but is all around a very bright, kind, warm person who’s able to give Radar the sort of horrendously necessary everyday sort of conversation and care that makes life bearable, the kind it’s so easy to take for granted when you’re experiencing it regularly. And then there’s BJ stepping in to hold Hawk even if he doesn’t fully understand what’s transpired between Hawk and Radar, because he knows Hawk and knows that he needs a second of support, which is sort of psychic in its own way. 

And that's the end. So, overall, I’d say the thing is very directly related to the title—drought of the soul which is only starting to lift by the end of the piece. One storm doesn’t solve a drought, after all—you need consistent rain, and time for ecological repair. And still the first few drops of rain after a dry spell feel awfully good. 

[snek-panini]

I know I just posted another book a few days ago but my new one's done and I have to show it off because it came out so beautiful and I love it.

This is a bind of The Voice of the Lion was Heard in the Land by A_N_D, which is a wonderful soft story that I found by accident. I no longer remember what I was originally searching for, but I'm glad it led me to this one. Check it out!

It's so beautiful! I'm in love with it. This is a shorter work than the last few I've made, so I made it half-sized because tiny books are awesome. First time doing it that way, but it definitely won't be the last. More pics and rambling under the cut. I got a little philosophical with this one XD

This is also the first time I've done the title like this. I formatted it in Word, printed it, cut it to size, and glued it to the front with PVA. I don't know how well it will hold up but I love how professional it looks. Here's a top view and the fore edge:

I must have mis-measured somewhere, because the cover *barely* fit. You can see it's right up against the spine in the back, and still juuust barely within the edge of the boards. I actually had to lay the book block inside upright over the spine, put some glue on the boards and fold them up to the block do the casing in, instead of laying the block flat onto the back cover and folding the front one over it like I usually do, because I didn't trust it to be straight any other way. This resulted in a loose back hinge, which I fixed later, but also eliminated the gap I usually have between the spine and book block, so overall a win even though it made me nervous to do.

Close-up of one of the corners. Previously I've often had bits of board visible here, but I managed a nice turn-in on all the corners for this one and I'm very proud of that.

Couple of interior shots, so you can see how small it is. The endpapers are a pattern I've used before, when I did Flowers from Hell, but I can't help it, they're just very pretty. I have discovered that my printer does not like pale grays, which is unfortunate because that's the color I used for the section break lines. Easiest solution would be a new printer, but printers are expensive so I'm looking for a work-around. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know.

When I first started making books I wanted them to look as good as something you'd find for sale in a bookstore, and I think this one is the closest I've come on that goal. I also had a really specific aesthetic in mind. My hometown's library had a bunch of vintage children's classics, some of which were reproductions of early to mid 20th century editions. They were much-beloved and also kind of quirky from being re-bound so many times. They were always cloth or buckram, with no cover illustrations and the title done in nice but fairly plain lettering. I don't know how well they circulated with actual children, but college-age me thought they were awesome, and I wanted this book to look a little like that. Honestly I couldn't be happier with how it turned out.

Next projects is going to be a second copy of this one, for the author, followed by a much longer scifi fic.

[davidyonke]

It's been a few days, so maybe this is old news, but people are still talking about the St. Paddy's Day meltdown by John Mellencamp in Toledo, so here are a few of my observations:

First off, I am a fan of John Mellencamp, otherwise I would not have bought two tickets at $120 apiece.

A lot of people have defended him for walking off the stage mid-concert after being "heckled." I don't think someone shouting "Authority Song" or yelling "Play some music" qualifies as heckling. Rude, definitely, but they weren't insulting him like hecklers do (e.g., "You suck," or "You're all washed up!"). They were Mellencamp fans who wanted to hear his music. I am NOT defending their rude interruptions, shouting while he was trying to tell a story about his 99-year-old grandmother pointing an arthritic finger at him and praying for him.

Any time a rock band quiets things down for an acoustic song, someone in the audience will yell something. It is inevitable. I've seen and heard it hundreds of times. Mr. Mellencamp is 72 and has been performing in public for at least 50 years and should not have been surprised.

Mr. Mellencamp was way out of line to call the fan a (expletive deleted - you can hear it yourself with the link below). There were a few kids in the crowd (although it was mostly gray haired fans like me).

Mr. Mellencamp was very wrong to stomp off the stage because two or three fans rudely yelled something. There were about 2,400 other people who were respectful and who paid good money to see him in concert. There are countless other better ways he could have responded to the interruptions.

I know John Mellencamp has done many great things to help people over the years. I was there at the Homeless Awareness Project's Tent City, held on a day that Mr. Mellencamp was giving a concert in Toledo. The Rock and Roll Hall of Famer stopped in, gave a short talk on the podium, was presented with a key to the city, then met one-on-one behind closed doors with a number of unhoused people. He then told his staff to give free tickets to any of the homeless people who wanted to come to his show that night. They gave out 60 to 70 tickets. Mr. Mellencamp is truly a man with a big heart.

I also was privileged to attend a taping by Mr. Mellencamp of a public-service announcement to help homeless veterans. He genuinely cares about people and is generous with his time and money.

He was a co-founder of Farm Aid to help farmers and I'm sure Mr. Mellencamp has done myriad other good deeds that don't get mentioned in the media.

We all have bad days. I don't know what is going on in Mr. Mellencamp's head. Maybe he had some personal crises to deal with and the rude fans were the tipping point that led to his tirade. But in my opinion, all of those things don't excuse his cursing out a fan and storming off the stage in mid-concert.

I give him credit for coming back after about 5 minutes of chaos and consternation among the crowd, and finishing his concert. I don't know if he just calmed down and, after reflecting on the situation, decided on his own to come back, or if friends, bandmembers, managers, lawyers or someone else backstage persuaded him to get back in the spotlight, but I'm glad he did. He returned to sing 7 more songs, closing with "Hurts So Good." There was no encore.

I am not sure about this but I believe Mr. Mellencamp could have ended the show without having to give refunds because he had already performed for about 45 minutes, which would have fulfilled his legal obligation. I'd have to look at the contract or talk to the promoter to be sure.

I was extremely disappointed by John Mellencamp's behavior but I still am a fan of his music and admire all the good things he has done.

Despite the "meltdown," it was a pretty good show. The Mellencamp band was superb. However, I probably won't pay to go to another of his concerts. And I doubt he will return to Toledo anyway.

Mr. Mellencamp is a fine artist. His artwork was featured in several museum exhibits including the Mansfield Art Center in 2022, and a small number of giclee prints of his paintings were on sale in the Stranahan Theater lobby ($1,500 apiece, a fair price IMO).

Here's a live video with audio of his tirade. See and hear it for yourself:

Photos by David Yonke

[anonymusbosch]

#here's to another 3B that we'll somehow fail to use to deliver the high speed rail they've been working on before i was born!!

article 1:

California’s High-Speed Rail project is getting a $3 billion windfall from the federal government that will go toward finishing construction of the bullet train’s 119-mile Central Valley line from Bakersfield to Merced. Another $3 billion federal grant was also awarded to Brightline West, the private high-speed railroad that will link Los Angeles and Las Vegas via bullet trains running at speeds of up to 186 mph. The $12 billion rail project, which launched in 2019, is on track to open in time for the 2028 Summer Olympics. The federal grants, announced Thursday by U.S. House Speaker Emerita Nancy Pelosi, comes from the Biden administration’s 2022 infrastructure law that includes $108 billion for transit capital projects, including high-speed rail. The unprecedented tranche of federal funds marks a significant milestone for California’s high-speed rail ambitions. The billions in federal funds coming to the state’s High-Speed Rail Authority will pay for building the rail system’s station in Fresno as well as a second track from Fresno to Madera. The funds will also go toward the procurement of six electric trains. “With this new $3.07 billion in federal funding, we take an important leap closer to making high-speed rail a reality in California,” Pelosi said in a statement. “An electrified high-speed rail network will dramatically improve the quality of life in the Central Valley and up and down California. These bullet trains will make travel quicker and easier, bring housing closer, (and) create new jobs and economic opportunities that would otherwise be out of reach.” The state’s High-Speed Rail project, which faces uncertainty over how it will pay for its planned extensions to San Francisco and Los Angeles, has benefited greatly from the infrastructure law. In September, the High-Speed Rail Authority was awarded a $202 million grant for the rail system’s construction in Kern County. Initially planned for a 2020 launch, the High-Speed Rail’s Central Valley segment from Bakersfield to Merced is scheduled to open in 2029 with five stations.

oh my god, I'm so glad we're only 6 years away from connecting people in the Central Valley with other places in the Central Valley! Along the same corridor where highways and low-speed rail already exist! I'm sure no one there wants to go to a major metropolitan area or the Capitol anytime soon!

article 2:

Major hurdles to the project remain. For starters, California hasn’t figured out where it will get up to $25 billion needed to build the San Francisco and Silicon Valley bullet train extensions. ... California voters approved $9.95 billion in bond funding for high-speed rail in 2008, with the promise that money would be used to help build a 220-mph train to deliver riders between the state’s biggest regions in under three hours. ... But the project has faced ridicule over repeated construction delays and soaring costs, with its total budget growing from $33 billion to at least $105 billion in the Rail Authority’s latest business plan — and potentially many billions more when the authority factors recent inflation into its estimates. ... Trains were initially supposed to start running in 2020. Now, the agency doesn’t anticipate the first trains will start running in the Central Valley until 2029, followed by Silicon Valley in 2031. ... Friedman said she worries the Rail Authority doesn’t have a viable plan to bring enough riders onto the Central Valley segment when it’s completed because there isn’t a clear, immediate way to connect with riders in the Bay Area. ...

Rail Authority officials are hopeful the project can sustain its recent streak of momentum as it applies for $8 billion in additional federal grants. The Biden administration has set aside tens of billions of dollars for new rail projects.

Still, the project faces critics who say it’s drifted too far from the statewide system voters approved in 2008. Quentin Kopp, a retired state senator and former chairman of the Rail Authority Board, laughed at the idea of bullet trains running into downtown San Francisco.

“That’s called much ado about nothing,” he said. “This is destined for the graveyard of boondoggles now.

three whole billion dollars! that's almost 3% of the total budget!

god. god I would love California high-speed rail to be real. I would love for there to be a 220 mph train between the major metros and the capitol that slings you there in hours, instead of a giant money pit labeled HIGH SPEED RAIL that we dump money into as ritual penance for Los Angeles's highway sins

California High-speed Rail has been awarded 3 billion dollars by the federal government for the continuation of construction

[shysheeperz]

Zipman!! Volume Covers 1-2 [Complete]

[shwazzberryswriting]

Sweet Glitches

Pairing: Jaemin x F Reader | [Y/N]

Genre: One Shot, AU - Non-Idol NCT Dream, Soft Sci-Fi Themes, Fluff, Smut

Summary: Instead of being immersed in the innovative game Renjun has allowed his friends to demo, Jaemin has been having fun with an AI named Cherry

Word count: 3.8k

Rating/Warnings: Mature/Not Beta Read, Short Moment With a Gun, Kissing, Explicit Sexual Content: PIV Sex, Heavy Petting

Minors DNI! 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: VR = Virtual Reality AI = Artificial Intelligence

Hi, readers!!!! It feels unreal that I even got this fic written! When I first saw @neohub LEVEL UP Event , I was so excited!!! I was busy and didn't want to say I would do it until I had written fic but then the event was arriving and I still hadn't found time🤪....anyway, I'm so glad that I did find time to write this 💖 I didn't get to spend as much time on it as I had really wanted but this is the story I thought of when I saw the event announcement and I am so glad that I was able to get this up on time! I hope you enjoy it!!! Please consider leaving a comment in the story, reblog tags or send an Ask on Anon if you enjoyed it. It would make my day! But I appreciate that you are reading it even if you don't comment. No pressure, reader! 💚 **EDIT: I hopefully found all the Candy/Cherry errors and fixed them! Tumblr can eat shit for making this small fix a nightmare!**

Apologies in advance for any mistakes! I didn't proofread this one well! 💚

Please let me know of any technical errors or if you have feedback/questions

    The black bodysuit clung to his skin, like a wetsuit; the suit only covered up toward the neck, however. Jaemin laughed as Haechan ran his palm over his stomach. A squawk rang through the air as Jeno grabbed Haechan’s wrist and twisted it. Falling to his knees, Haechan whimpered as Jeno let him go, throwing his head back to flick his black strands out of his eyes.

    “Hey, only Jeno can touch Jaemin’s abs,” Chenle said, chuckling. He zipped up Jisung’s suit from the back. “All right, does everyone feel comfortable? OK, time to go to your assigned rooms and prepare for the wires and headgear.”

    Jaemin rubbed his belly as he followed his friends out of the locker room. The fit of the suit was as close to skin tight as skin tight could be. All the curves of his muscles were visible, he didn’t blame Haechan for being mesmerized by his 8 pack abs. Watching everyone ahead in their own skin tight suits, they looked like deep sea divers, lining up for their oceanic travels.

    Only Renjun could convince Jaemin to leave his apartment and put on a suit that left little to the imagination just so that he could play a video game. A visionary and tech wiz, Renjun had always been driven to become a hotshot game developer. Straight out of university, he’d been picked up to do a large project for the first company he pitched his game to.

    He’d gotten a large budget for what he considered would be the new way to play videogames: a mix of dreams and technology to allow dreamers to control their dreams in a hosted platform that Renjun had created: DREAM VR. Haechan claimed SM Softwares ENT had given Renjun tens of millions in funds, but as the game in demo mode had each player connected to a machine monitored by one moderator, Jaemin suspected Renjun’s project had surpassed hundreds of millions in funding.

    “Hey, I still have my stash saved, right?” Jaemin sat up straight in the leather covered seat, laying his legs out before him. The chair was more like a chaise lounge, the cushions soft and the chair long and curved in a slim S-shape. “I still remember that I have 15 cookies in stash.”

    “Everything is saved properly,” Chenle said gently, standing to his left, sticking a wire to his temple. The wire, Renjun had explained, was to monitor his brain waves so that his mind didn’t wander outside of DREAM VR. Chenle placed another onto his right temple. “When you hear classical music begin to play, focus on the wall before closing your eyes. Start repeating your keywords. What are your key words?”

    “Whale, water, crystal.”

    “Good.”

    Gentle high notes from a slow piano melody filled his ears, slow and ringing with every high note being cut across by oversteps from the melancholic low ones. Jaemin’s eyes focused on the white wall of the darkened room he sat in. He envisioned a large whale deep undersea, so deep that sunlight was but a distant speck above, flitting across like a gnat too far to swat. Still always distracting his eyes, the damned tiny thing. He flowed with the whale, his limbs light, his skin connected to the suit.

    “Whale.”

    He shut his eyes. He heard the sharp, hard clicks of the wires Chenle was connecting from the chair to the body suit he wore, each click ringing with the high piano notes. Mind focusing on the image of the whale’s massive form, the low fin toward its lower bumpy back swinging gently. The whale’s giant split tail swung upwards and downwards slowly as the piano’s high notes began to dance around the low, spiraling chords.

    “Water.”

    Jaemin felt the helmet being placed over his head, covering over his whole head. It was snug, but as he rested his head against the back of his chair, he felt like he was lying in bed. He reached his hand out, streaks of sunlight catching his forearm as he swam closer to the whale, intent on riding the large creature by grabbing its fin.

    “Crystal.”

    He opened his eyes and he was standing on a seemingly fake set that represented a gas station. It was just like how he remembered it to be weeks ago. He looked down at his body and grinned. He was back to wearing his magenta zebra printed jacket.

    “Yeah, sexy,” he called out with a laugh, running his hand through his strawberry blonde 80s mullet-style haircut. He marveled at his absurd haircut in the reflection on the tinted window of the Lamborghini he stood in front of, fingers ruffling his tresses over his forehead.

     “You said you’d change your haircut to something better.” Jeno was beside him, his hair a soft rose pink. His bright pink vest and leather pants matched with Jaemin. Everyone always assumed they intentionally matched their outfits together, but they just had similar tastes.

    “I’m sexy with this mullet.” Jaemin turned away from his reflection and looked around for the keys. “My girlfriend’s waiting for me. We agreed to have a picnic at the park.”

    “She’s an AI.” Jeno snorted with a chuckle, hair falling over his eyes as he shook his head. “We watched ‘Her’ and both ‘Blade Runner’ and ‘Blade Runner 2049’ and you want to meet up with Cherry?”

    “This is all pretend play. Don’t spoil my fun. I don’t tell Renjun about the cookie thing, and you don’t tell him about Cherry, right?” Jeno nodded. “I need you to say that you agree to that.”

    “I do.”

    “What?”

    “I agree.”

    “About?”

    “Jaemin.”

    “Say it. Or I’m going to chase my whale and I’m going to tell Renjun about the Infinity Cookie Glitch.”

    “I agree that we won’t tell Renjun about the glitches we found.”

    “Good. What are you doing today? Will you corner Haechan and beat him into submission?”

    “I’m going to wait to see if he finds someone to provoke and I’m going to test out the Cookie Glitch if I fight any AI. Are you really going to see Cherry?”

    “Renjun said we might not be able to play again for at least another 12 weeks.”

    “Is it because she looks and sounds like-”

    “Hey!” Jisung had icy white platinum hair in Renjun’s DREAM VR world. He held a shiny silver 9mm pistol gun, directing it at Jaemin and Jeno. He tilted his head to the side, his black cap falling over his left eye. “Hand over the keys to the Lamborghini and no one gets shot.”

    “When you find it, let us know.” Jaemin sat down onto the front hood of the shiny gold car. “I’ll drop you off to the shooting event you want to go to before I go on my picnic at the park, Jisungie.”

    “I’m a villainous badass with no regard for authority or pleasantries.” Jeno and Jaemin rushed over and pinched Jisung’s cheeks as he groaned and pushed against them, the gun in his right hand pressed against Jeno’s chest. His cool hat fell to the ground. “I’m going to tell Renjun about the Cookies Glitch!”

    “What’s that?” Jaemin laughed though he and Jeno immediately stopped trying to smother Jisung. They released him, and as he put his gun away Jaemin picked up Jisung’s hat.

    “You eat a cookie and you can taste sugar in your mouth,” Jisung said, pulling a perfectly round golden sugar cookie from his pocket. He ate the entire disk with one giant bite. His eyes sparkled like bursting golden champagne bubbles for two seconds before he rubbed his stomach. “It feels so real! I can taste sugar in my mouth!”

    “Who told you about that?” Jeno brought out a cookie from the front pocket of his vest. He placed it onto his tongue and the round golden cookie curled into smoke before disintegrating into nothing, revealing Jeno’s blush pink tongue. “My stomach feels like something is going down there too.”

    “I overheard Chenle talking about it.”     “Wait, does he know about the glitch?” Jeno’s voice almost cracked.

    Jisung shrugged.

    “Chenle had a lot of Zoom meetings to prepare for today’s gameplay last week. He forgot to shut the door to his room. I heard him say that the Cookie Glitch wasn’t ready for Renjun’s attention yet.”

    Jaemin took a cookie out from the pocket of his leather pants and placed it in his mouth as he shut his eyes. The taste of pure sugary sweetness hit the center of his tongue, immediately rushing to coat the entirety of the inside of his mouth. A tingling sensation hit his stomach, spreading across the front before his stomach shook, almost like it was grumbling.

    Opening his eyes, Jaemin saw the keys to the Lamborghini sitting right behind the front wheel on the driver’s side. After picking it up, he glanced around. Haechan and Mark were nowhere to be found. They likely started their gameplay at the gaming store, which was located far away from where the gas station was.

    “Do you want me to drop you off at the gaming store before I go on my picnic?”     “Do you want to visit the store before going on your picnic?” Jeno popped another cookie into his mouth. His eyes sparkled with the champagne bubbles before his eyes focused on Jaemin’s face. “We can beat up Mark and Haechan and they won’t be able to replenish their powers.”

    “You know how important my picnics are.”

    Jaemin got into the car waving to Jisung and Jeno before driving away. They’d declined his offer to give them a ride. More time for him to be alone with his virtual lady love. He hadn’t intended to play out a romance in Renjun’s interactive battle game. The point of the game was to become the most powerful gangster in the DREAM VR Universe by games of skills and force, but Jaemin had befriended an AI character by the name of Cherry when he’d successfully stolen the gold Lamborghini.

    After robbing a bank, he’d hijacked a car to get away, throwing out an AI driving the car. She was in the luxury gold car, coded to demand he drop her off but he talked her into staying in the car with him. He guessed his talking her into getting out of NPC mode was a glitch of some kind. Cherry’s personality shifted when Jaemin offered her a cookie.

    The cookies were supposed to be gifts given to AI characters to gain information or favors. Cherry likely wasn’t supposed to be a character that received cookies. She had taken his hand and asked him to be her boyfriend. It’d been a sweet romance since that day.

    She was walking toward the tiny park. It was a square green patch of land in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by grey concrete. A large black lamp post sat beside a wooden bench that sat at the entrance to the golden gated park. Two 16 bit pixelated white ducks were walking back and forth across the green colored ground. It was flat and generic, the tree trunks were thick and lumpy, but colored yellow, and the branches were navy green, looking like giant square boxes more than bunches of leaves.

    Cherry was wearing her usual outfit: denim overall shorts with a red tank top. Her long hair was up in giant pigtails, the ends curling out and bouncing behind her. He laughed when she jumped and turned around at hearing him honk the car. Her thick black platform boots touched the ends of her curls when she jumped in the air, red valentine hearts popping out of her eyes with her hands clasped together, her mouth wide open in a grin.

    “NaNa!” Her laugh rang loudly as she ran over to him. “You’re here for our picnic!”

    Running a hand through his hair, he turned off the car as his heart began beating fast, heating rushing up his neck. The valentine hearts were gone, and her eyes turned back to magenta, the same shade matching his jacket. He knew she wasn’t real, but it was fun to pretend.

    “Hey, sexy,” he said, matching her energy as they rushed toward each other. She catapulted herself onto him, the weight of her body was on his chest as he fell flat onto his back. He laughed, arms holding her body tight against him. As tight as the game would allow him to feel the sensation of a body over his. It didn’t feel like it could ever be enough, so he locked his fingers together, holding her tight. “I’m happy to see you.”

    “Your power level has fallen to 87%. I knocked your energy down by 4% NaNa! I’m getting stronger.”

    “Does Chenle know you exist? You can’t be evolving all on your own, can you?” He flipped them over so she was on her back on the concrete.

    “If you eat your cookie, your power will replenish.”

    He bent forward and kissed her. With his eyes shut he inhaled slowly. Everything was odorless, but the sensation of her lips touching his felt just like real lips on his. Opening his mouth, he felt the soft wet lips of the best kisser he’d come across.

    She wasn’t real.

    He stopped kissing her, pulling back to stare at her. Her smile was the same smile he’d adored for what felt like an eternity, one finger tracing her bottom lip.

    “You’ve told me that already. Thank you.”

    He and Jeno hadn’t believed Cherry until they ate the cookies. They realized that since they weren’t giving the cookies away, the game did not lower the cookie count. They were basically given an infinite source to power, indestructible in God mode.

    “NaNa, we need to have our picnic.”

    He brushed her hair aside, eyes staring intently at her face and then her neck before drifting to admire the dark brown beauty mark that sat just below her earlobe. Chenle had to know about Candy. It had to be Chenle who’d been messing around with the cookies. The mole was just like her smile: a gift deserving of his eternal adoration.

    “Do you remember when we found our way to the roof of the gaming store?” He let her go, helping her get up. They began a slow stroll to Renjun’s underdeveloped park.

    “You told me I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.” He touched her cheek, seeing her eyes shut. “You said you want to be with me forever.”

    “I want to tell you everything I said that day.”

    “You already have, Jaemin.”

    He stopped walking, hand grabbing her wrist. She turned her head around when he tugged on her arm. His heart was beating fast, the center of his vision blurred, and he began to see a white dot.

    “Whale.”

    He shut his eyes, focusing on the stillness of the ground. Blue ocean waves; heavy, cool and leading his mind back to the unconscious world.

    “Water.”

    “NaNa?”

    He opened his eyes. Cherry was right in front of him, her eyes peering at him with thin furrowed brows. Her hands were on his shoulders, the sensation of a gentle pressure felt real.

    “[Y/N].”

    Her eyes widened.

    “You’re not an AI. You’re...you and Chenle have been playing this game on me all this time.”

    “I didn’t mean to,” she said immediately, her fingers grabbing onto his jacket. “I was monitoring an AI driving and you hijacked the test. You were so charming and I-” she closed her mouth and eyes before sighing “-I...I’m sorry.”

    “[Y/N]-” he grabbed her hands as she turned her head away “-I meant everything I said. I never had the courage to tell you in real life.”

    Nodding, she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. The sensation of her embrace was beginning to feel warm. He’d never felt this warm before in the VR world. He hummed with his mouth shut tight as he felt his cock start to stiffen.

    “Chenle and I have been having a lot of fun creating new sensations. So far, all we can get with flavor sensations is sweetness. I think I’ve also got heat down in the suits now. Before, they would get too hot and force players out of the game.”

    “I thought Renjun purposely made all sex organs inoperable.”

    “Well, we’ve been kissing, so…”

    He shut his eyes, humming again as he felt her palm his growing erection.

    “This feels so real.”

    “I’m flattered. I knew the optical fibers in the suits just needed some fine tuning. Chenle didn’t think I’d be able to hack the sex stuff. Thanks for being a test subject with me.”

    His lips were over hers, hands grabbing her hips, pressing their bodies together. She gave out soft moans as he continually licked her lips, his hips thrusting against hers. His cock was growing hotter with every motion.

    Her hands were at his waist as he fell onto the bench, unzipping his pants. Their lips met as his hands were on the buckles to her overalls, undoing them quickly before shoving her overalls down her body and legs.

    “Yes, sexy,” he breathed out, staring at her bare pink folds as she straddled him. He chuckled as she groaned, her pouty wet lips curving downwards.

    “Stop teasing.”

    He hummed into her neck, planting kisses back and forth as his hands grazed under her shirt. She moaned as she thrust against him, the heat between them making fire build up his spine from deep inside.

    He needed to be inside her. He knew what they were doing wasn’t real. He wanted to fuck her. He needed her.

    They groaned into each other’s mouths as their lips met. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he used his right hand to guide his cock into her. He laughed as she moaned, her fingers grabbing onto his hair as he thrust into her.

    “You feel so good,” he said softly. Fingers grabbing her asscheeks, he bucked his hips up against her, eyes fixed on her face as he drove himself balls deep into her.

    “NaNa!” Her legs squeezed tighter around his hips, chin pressing hard into his shoulder with her body up against his. “Do you really think your cock is this big?”

    “Do you really get this wet at the thought of my cock inside of you?”

    She giggled, fingers releasing his hair to massage his scalp. He purred a soft hum into her shoulder. His whole body was flowing with the warmth of a steam filled shower, and he savored the way his cock felt inside of her, her tight heat making the fire grow in his abdomen.

    Their lips locked and she thrust against him as he pulled back. Her chest shook as she cried against his mouth. He kept their lips locked, right hand at the back of her head, his need to taste her making his mind tumble back and forth, in search of a taste, any taste. All he was getting was wetness and warmth.

    His mind blanked as the fire in his abdomen roared right up to his head. She thrust back and forth, her hips building the friction between them. His tongue searched the inside of her mouth for taste, but still, nothing.

    “NaNa,” she panted his name in a whisper right against his ear.

    His hold around her waist was tight as he came, the fire in his cock spread throughout his body as he felt the sharp release of his come spilling into her. She was silent as her fingers tugged onto his hair. There was pressure at the back of his scalp, but the prickling pain was not there.

    “Will you let me take you out to dinner tonight?”

    They pulled apart, his left hand stroking her thigh. She laughed, her eyes shut as she nodded gently.

    “You mean, when we’re done playing this game, right?” She touched the tendrils over his forehead.

    “I don’t want to spend an entire night feeding you cookies.”     “Take your time riding your whale. What we just did was really dangerous.”

    “You be careful, too.”

    They quickly pulled apart and then dressed. He kissed the back of her hand before letting her go. They sat side by side as Jaemin focused on the green block of leaves sitting across from him. He shut his eyes.

    His ears searched for piano chords, and when he heard the familiar spiraling melody of a piano, he listened for the new violin and cello accompaniment. It only came when he was ready to leave the game.

    The humpback whale was swimming upwards, the sunlight at the surface growing slowly. He felt the heat of the sun against his eyelids. Reaching out, his hand grabbed the whale’s fin, and his hand turned cold as his vision began to turn white.

    “Crystal.”

    He opened his eyes, and he was back in the test room with Chenle. The room was brightly lit, and Chenle was beside him, unclipping the cords from the chair off his body suit. His face turned hot, and he felt the sweat at his temple glide down the side of his face as he pulled off the wires that had been adhered onto his temples.

    Had he really had VR sex with his real life crush?

    “She’s waiting for you,” Chenle said, standing up straight. He was failing to hide a shit eating grin. “She’s in the room next to Haechan’s.”

    Jaemin bolted out of the chair, hand cranking the door handle down hard before slamming the door open. At the left end of the hall stood [Y/N], her hair up in a bun, her body covered from neck to toes in an identical black bodysuit. The hallway was a grey tinted blur as he ran to her in six quick strides, arms wrapping around her waist as their lips crashed together.

    He groaned as their teeth clashed, his nose bumping into hers. They released each other, and he cupped her face into his hands. He looked deep into her eyes, chest aching in disbelief that the woman he’d been silently crushing on for years had felt the same way toward him. Whatever stupid mistakes they’d made didn’t matter, not anymore.

    He planted a soft kiss on her real life soft, warm lips. A soft chuckle reverberated against his mouth. His cock warmed as a briny caramel filled his mouth and nose. One hand wrapped around her waist as he kissed her deeper, his tongue gliding against hers. The sweetness of her scent and taste was all his mind could focus on, he wanted to be with her forever.

    “A-hem!”

    They pulled apart and Renjun was before them. His small rectangular glasses slid down the bridge of his nose with one hand on his chin, his arms crossed. His lips were thin and white, like a dried up crumpled paper towel, the creases growing as his eyebrows began to furrow too.

    “Can you take those suits off? They’re really expensive.”

---

Thank you, always, for reading!

Please consider leaving a comment in the story, reblog tags or send an Ask on Anon if you enjoyed it. It would make my day! But I appreciate that you are reading it even if you don't comment. No pressure, reader! 💚

[nanaminokanojo]

BLOOM | Sukuna X You | Part 1/3

CHARACTERS: Sukuna X You | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Maki | Fushiguro Toji | Baby Megumi | Megumi's Mom (OC) CHAPTER COUNT: 1/3 WORD COUNT: 8900+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | (eventual) smut | ooc sukuna | female reader CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity/strong language | alcohol use | cigarette smoking | age gap | unhealthy simping XD SPOILERS: N/A

collection masterlist

one two three | Bloom Masterlist

His hair was the color of cherry blossoms, that's the first thing you noticed. It was the softest shade of pink, easy on the eyes, reminding you of the tendrils of filtered rays of the sun lightly touching the edges of clouds very early in the morning. Or your favorite angora wool sweater.

The man stole your attention from the book you were reading when you chanced a look from your periphery just to check who sat on the stool beside your usual spot on the bar – the seat at the very end by the wall. Your planned glance turned into a furtive stare at the sight of him from his candy-floss-hued hair, the rippling muscles hidden under his white oxford shirt and the array of tattoos that peeked through his neatly folded sleeves. And boy, since when did men smell like vanilla and spring while also exuding such a virile scent?

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth at the thought, internally shaking your head at your behavior. You should not be staring at people, and though you weren't exactly ogling him, you were still observing him enough to associate him with your favorite article of winter clothing.

"Hey. The usual for you?" you heard Maki, the bar owner, ask, giving you the idea that the man was a regular. How you haven't spotted him before was a mystery.

If it was already hard concentrating on the novel you were reading, you've completely forgotten about it when you heard him say, "Make that single-malt." It's either the gates of hell opened at the sudden heat you felt on your skin at the sound of his voice or the gates of heaven did with how delicious it sounded in your ear, thick like honey and deep with a distinct ring to it. It got you wondering what his mother craved for when she was pregnant with him, and your brain said, "Greek gods," when you lifted your eyes from the current page you were reading and briefly exchanged looks with him as he shifted his line of vision from Maki to you.

You turned your eyes back to your book, making it seem like you were just absently looking about, but in reality, it took herculean effort to wrench your gaze from him. In that brief meeting of your eyes, the features of his face registered in your head like a bar code scanner, etching itself in your mind like a white-hot brand. He wasn't shockingly handsome, but he was beautiful in his own right with those intense eyes that reminded you of drowning pools and the rugged yet refined planes of his face. It was as if an artist painted him in passionate anger, slowly fell in love with the piece and began redefining his features with gentler strokes.

You turned the page of your book despite not getting any reading done. Well, it has been the case for a considerable amount of minutes now, but you tried anyway, furiously staring down at the new page but not comprehending anything. Your eyes kept scanning the same sentence over and over again but it was not sinking in at all.

"Excuse me, miss," that deep voice you've already developed a strange affection for assaulted your senses again, making your head snap up to the direction it was coming from. Hell, you think you'll do its owner's bidding just hearing it at the rate you were going, reacting automatically as if you were programmed with a voice prompt or something.

You were about to look at him but Maki caught your attention as she pushed the smoothie you ordered towards you, placing it precisely in front of you on the hardwood surface with her fingers. She arched a brow at you, causing you to stiffen on your seat.

You've been coming to the quiet little bar since you grew old enough to drink. In fact, you considered it your regular watering hole, going there whenever you can even in the day as it doubled as a gastro-pub. You've already come to know the staff who reserved the spot for you every single time you told them you were coming, particularly the tough but very lovable Maki. She's basically a friend now, and you knew you were acting off if she was giving you odd looks.

"Thanks, Maki," you said just in time, even managing to smile. She just shook her head at you before walking away to tend to another client.

"I have to know what book you are reading," the person beside you said just as you began sipping on your drink, which, you've noted, was a cherry blossom tea smoothie that reminded you of him.

You let go of the straw between your lips, swallowing hard. Turning your attention to him, you found him sitting sideways, chin propped on the heel of his palm as he regarded you. "Huh?" was all you could manage to say to him.

A slow, crooked smile etched itself across his mouth, the action appearing sensuous with the gradual way his expressions changed. "That book," he said for your benefit. "May I know what it is about?"

You just blinked, still questioning yourself if he was addressing you.

"If you're that engrossed about it, it must be great," he said. "Mind telling me the title?"

"Book?" you asked dumbly. He was really frying your brain.

He pointed at the book you were holding with his lips, protruding them slightly before smiling again. Jesus, you loved the way he smiled. The gesture didn't belong there when you've already thought he was the smirking, grinning-devil type. It was too soft a gesture, but then again his hair was shell-pink – a contradiction to his stridently brawny features.

"Oh." Despite yourself, you found yourself chuckling. "I'm sorry, I was distracted."

"Not by the book, I hope."

You looked away, smiling to yourself as you closed the object in question and slid it over to him. When you looked at him, you were surprised to see him actually reading the synopsis at the back, interest flickering in his dark eyes. You were already expecting him to just read the title, probably the author, too, thinking he was just flirting with you judging by his last words. But he was actually reading it.

"It's about an architect," he stated. "He must be mind-blowingly awesome if you're too transfixed on his story."

"No, Howard Roark is mostly a recalcitrant bastard who breaks rules here and there, doesn't cooperate or collaborate and is stone-faced about most anything."

"But it's what you like about him," he supplied.

You nodded. "He’s a breath of fresh air in a world governed by stuffy archaic principles. The spring to a long, stagnant winter of conformity. I'm in love with him." Noticing the look of amusement on his face, you were quick to add, "What?"

"Nothing." His smile didn't waver though. "Are you an architect, too?"

"Too?" you repeated with inflection then tilted your head. "Ah, you're an architect, huh?"

"Guilty."

"Any projects of note?" you asked, tilting your head in wonder when he seemed flustered. "What is it?"

He shook his head slowly. "You're very straightforward."

At that, you grinned. "Should I take you out to dinner before I get that information?" You sipped leisurely at your smoothie, glad that you throw him off as much as he flusters you.

"You don't have to," he found himself answering anyway. "But I work for a firm, so they get most of the credit. We built that new hotel at Shinjuku."

"Eh? Didn't pin you for a baroque kind of guy."

"You know..." He was all ears now judging by how he leaned closer to you. He leveled his expression to yours then. "So, what kind of guy did you think I am?"

There it is, you thought, the smirk you've been waiting for. Without giving it much thought, you said, "The Howard Roark type, of course."

***

"You seriously don't remember, do you?"

It wasn't that you didn't. You simply had no idea how you got home, considering how you ended up all smashed after enjoying too many margaritas after your smoothie. You seriously just didn't know certain things. You didn't know what happened after you reached your limit. And out of all the things you know you should not have missed, you didn't know his name.

You were sitting on the kitchen counter, nursing a headache, trying to fill in every bit of information your friends were trying to leech out of you in your addled state. You've been expecting it - the great inquisition - especially after you returned in a state lesser than they've been expecting, unconscious, according to the collective stories of your roommates, when you told them you were just stepping out to get some reading done. And on a school night, no less. Very atypical of you indeed.

"What should I be remembering?" you responded to Ieiri. You weren't exactly fond of her worrisome nature although you knew she was just watching your back especially since she has been rather disapproving of your escapades with these guys you somewhat dated back then. You appreciated it, but it didn't mean you liked it.

"Oh, I don't know, Y/N. Strawberry blond? Tats? Drives a Jeep? Ring any bells?" she said, jogging your memory. "He came knocking at two in the morning, carrying you in his arms. I mean he was hot according to Satoru, but do you even know the guy?"

“Cherry blossom,” you absently corrected the color Ieiri mentioned.

“Huh?”

“Him, I remember.” You smiled at the thought, not hiding your delight from them. You were sure they were just annoyed that they weren't in on the action since Satoru, your other friend and roommate, who seem nonexistent recently, was the one who interacted with the man you met and supposedly brought you back to the house you rented with all of them. And Satoru doesn't know basic decorum to actually ask what the man’s name was. "Howard."

"Howard?" Suguru, another one of your friends who was in the literature department as you were, asked. "Howard Roark?" He knew the reference, obviously. You forced him to read the book before it even became one of your study materials.

You nodded enthusiastically. "He's an architect."

"He didn't look like a 'Howard,' apparently," Ieiri said.

"That name is from her favorite book," Suguru supplied, his dark eyes shifting to you as he tucked some stray strands of his long, raven locks which were currently tied in a half-up. "So your guy's an architect, too."

"That, but he isn't 'my guy' and I don't know what his name is."

He grinned then. "If you're openly calling him by the name of the character you claim to be in love with, I'm assuming..."

"No!" Ieiri gasped.

You laughed despite the action making your head hurt. You were still hungover after all, but you didn't mind, not when you knew you had a good night. Probably a great night to allow yourself to be hammered like you have been. You only ever drank to your fill when the company is great and when you were in a jovial mood.

"It's nothing like that. He just feels like spring time. Looks like it, too." You waved your hands in front of you for emphasis. Still, your expressions said otherwise.

You weren't in love with the man because you didn't believe in mushy things like love at first sight, but you knew you liked him, just that you weren't getting your hopes up cause there's a chance you might not see him ever again, assuming your meeting was something transient like the blossoms his hair made you think of. Even if he was a regular at Maki's, if your schedules didn't coincide with one another, it would not be easy to meet. You've been coming to the same bar for years and yet, you've only ever seen him that time. You never really know.

But then, you got your answer pretty quickly.

From: Satoru

See you at 7 tomorrow night. Same place.

That’s how Satoru's message read, sent late the previous night. You almost forgot about the agreement you’ve had with him to get unlimited barbecue after sleeping the rest of the day but you made it out just in time. It was something you did with all three of your friends as a way to bond with them individually.

You glanced at the clock on your phone, feeling the stares of the restaurant staff on you. Well, you’ve been there for more than an hour waiting for him. One hour and thirteen minutes to be precise. All you’ve ordered so far was a glass of lemonade and you were able to finish that in the first half hour, sitting on a table for two when evidently, you were alone. All your texts were ignored and your calls were always being redirected to voicemail.

“Where the fuck are you, Gojo Satoru?” you asked him in one of your messages, hissing low into your phone just so the other diners would not be offended by your words. You got a message another twenty minutes later, the sound of your phone almost making you jump from your seat. However, when you looked at it, it was from an unknown number.

You were about to check the message when one of the waitresses came to your table, pad and pen on the ready. She’s always the one who served you whenever you and your friends would go there for a dose of beef and pork fat, and she has always been nice to you.

“Not to be nosy but I think your friend isn’t coming.”

You nodded, grimacing. “Tell me about it.”

“The boss has been giving you the stink eye, too.”

Looking over the counter, you saw the elderly man really looking at you. He looked away when you met his eyes, muttering to himself. You knew how the owner could get, but you simply loved going there since their food is good and the service is just the same. You smiled ruefully at the woman before you. “I’ll have a sukiyaki set and warm sake, please. Thank you.”

“Would that be all?”

“Yeah.”

“Coming right up.” She flashed you a bright smile before disappearing into the back rooms.

You almost forgot the message you saw earlier, but then, your phone lit up again with that familiar tone. The new message was from the same number.

From: Unknown

How are you?

From: Unknown

I hope you’re okay.

You frowned, not having the slightest clue as to who could be texting you.

From: You

Who is this?

Your order came but there was no response from the mystery texter or Satoru. You felt pathetic looking at your phone every once in a while as you ate and drank. Normally, you wouldn’t even have given anybody, including your best friends, the time of the day, making you wait for longer than an hour without as much as a message. You don’t ever wait for people over the agreed meeting time. You hated it with passion. And you were already thinking of ways to make Satoru pay.

You were about to eat a mouthful of beef when you heard the chair across you being dragged back. Your eyes flicked to the direction, and to your utter shock, you almost dropped your chopsticks if it weren’t for the hand that reached out and held onto your hand, securing the utensils.

Once again, you were sitting on your usual spot at the bar, eyes clashing with those intense ones owned by the pink-haired guy who apparently drove a charcoal grey Jeep and reminded you of spring, the same one who drove you home the other night.

“Careful,” he said, his scent assaulting your senses.

A lump formed in your throat, making you unable to form proper words, so you settled for putting down the chopsticks. You folded your hands together on your lap, recovering from your consternation before you finally looked at him, unable to help it but grin. He looked different that day, more laid back in a white baseball cap mussing his candy-floss hair down, a loose-fitting shirt in the same hue and jeans. He looked so fresh, you felt the air around you cool down considerably.

“How did you…” you hesitated and shook you head. “Hello.”

He broke into that crooked smile. “Crazy how the moment you sent the message, I saw you through the glass walls while I drove past.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again, not quite knowing how to react to it when suddenly, the first part of his statement registered in your mind. “Wait, message?” You picked up your phone, showing him the messages. “This is you?”

He nodded slowly. “Looks like you’re doing great.” He regarded the bottle of sake on the table. “I had to get your number to check up on you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Y-yeah, I mean, no, not at all. Thank you by the way.” You chuckled, saving his number and naming him Spring God in your contacts. “I wasn’t really expecting you to bring me home.”

“I got your address from your driving license.” He grinned then. “I thought of taking you back to my place, but I didn’t know how that would sit with you.”

Who says chivalry was dead? “I’m sorry for acting crazy, if I did anyway." You chuckled. "I don't remember…and for having to bring me all the way to the house.”

“It’s fine. It was lovely meeting Satoru.”

At that, your face flushed red. You winced. “I’m sorry for whatever he did while I was out of it.” He could be crazy at times, and you wouldn't be surprised if he did something untoward.

He shook his head, letting out a slight chuckle. “He was very nice to me, don’t worry.” He furrowed his brows then. “I also got your name. Y/N. I don’t know if you forgot to tell me or you just didn’t trust me enough, but I’d like to think it’s the former since you didn’t seem to think twice about getting wasted with me like you did.”

You deliberately didn’t tell him your name, but he was making it sound a little nicer. It wasn’t really something you planned on doing again, meeting him, but somehow, he found you. You shook you head, coming clean. “If you put it that way, okay, but really, I thought it was better if you didn’t know.”

“Hmm. Why is that?”

You found it endearing that he tilted his head a bit to the side when he asked the question. Your lips curled upwards at the corner. “I just never thought I’d meet you again.”

“That would be unfortunate.”

You laughed awkwardly at his remark. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”

“I’m not offended.”

“Okay.”

You requested for another order of barbecue for him. He declined but you insisted. “Come on. My treat for your act of kindness.” You snickered. “Besides, my supposed date bailed.”

“Date?”

Sighing, you said, “Well, not really. Satoru. We agreed to meet here over an hour ago but he hasn’t been answering my messages or calls. Something probably came up.”

He eyed you thoughtfully. “If you don't mind me asking, is he your...?"

"My what?"

"Your boyfriend…maybe."

You chuckled at the thought, but then you realized you didn't even know his name. "I don't really tell strangers about things like that," you teased.

“Okay, but I thought we’re past being strangers.” He smirked then and you swore you felt your stomach flip.

“We’re in the getting-to-know-each-other phase,” you told him with a laugh, acceding. "Since I didn't tell you my name, I didn't expect you to tell me yours. Plus I didn't ask, so may I have yours?"

"Sukuna," he said. "Ryomen Sukuna."

"Su-ku-na," you repeated, liking the feel of the syllables as they rolled out of your tongue. Finally, the person you've gotten so fond of in just a short time had a name. You didn't know what his name meant but it seemed to match him well regardless of how arbitrary it was to his person. You couldn't think of any better name though. "I like your name. It's pretty." You smiled brightly at him then. "And no, Satoru is not my boyfriend."

Ryomen Sukuna was an absolute puzzle to you. How he could look so badass and pretty much intimidating with his strapping physique and inked skin – throw in the multiple piercings on his left ear which you were noticing or the first time – while also pulling off all these adorable little actuations was a quandary to you. Tall, solidly built men like him should not be reminding you of soft, cute things, but the moment he blinked in confusion, you knew you couldn't get enough of it.

"Nobody ever said that about my name, but thanks," he returned in that deep voice after a moment's pause. And was that a dusting of roses over his cheeks? The surprises you were getting from this man was endless. He really was such a breath of fresh air, so far from the usual stereotypes.

Your face seemed to be perpetually pulled into a smile whenever you were around him, and you didn't think you were doing a good job suppressing the urge to be beaming like an idiot around him. "So, anyway, what made you think that blue-eyed idiot is my boyfriend?" you asked, changing the topic.

"Well, he was a bit hostile at first when he took you from me, making me explain things but then started apologizing after. He told me you could be a handful when inebriated..." He let his voice trail off as if letting you chew on his words.

"You agree with him." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." Sukuna pretended to frown. "He also calls you 'his princess'."

You threw your head back, covering your eyes momentarily in embarrassment. "Now I wish you met Ieiri and Suguru instead," proceeding to explain that the nickname was something akin to what a father would call his precious daughter.

"He was rather intimidating, but I guess he's just looking out for you."

"He's still not off the hook for standing me up," you quipped, "But you finding him intimidating is funny."

"Why?"

You scoffed, gesturing over to him. "I think you can snap him in two if you wished, too."

"He was scary," Sukuna insisted.

"He's harmless...most of the time, but yeah, he’s rather protective. That’s one of my dads for you."

He laughed then. "There's nothing scarier than a fiercely protective friend…or a doting father. I can't muscle my way out of that for sure."

"Ah, then you'll find Ieiri scarier."

The night pretty much went well and ended on a good note. Sukuna did most of the talking for the rest of the night. You learned he was six years older than you at twenty nine, one of the head architects at the firm he worked for, has a love-hate relationship with his job cause he wants to draw portraits instead, was a delinquent when he was younger but got away with things cause he was a straight-A student, loved dogs so much that he cries when they die in movies, was closer to his mom, got his tattoos on a sudden whim, and was pretty much a sweet, charming genuine person which contrasted his appearance. What you see isn't what you get. That just isn't how it worked with him.

You loved it when he talked. It was rather entertaining as he had a way of telling stories which made you feel like you were actually there when it happened. Eventually, you forgot the reason why you were at the restaurant in the first place. It was as if you went there for the purpose of meeting Sukuna himself. Satoru was all but forgotten as you dissolved into carefree laughter and playful banters, and you felt at ease and more like yourself around him, pretty much like when you were with your three favorite people in the world.

“It’s not really that funny,” Sukuna told you, watching you laugh heartily at that one episode in his freshmen year when he made a mistake of going on a date with the wrong girl who happened to have the same name as his supposed date. You continued to laugh as if he didn’t say anything.

“It’s just crazy that both of them were there at the same time. I mean, what were the odds?”

He parked by the sidewalk in front of your house, killing the engine. “That’s the reason why I have never agreed to a single blind date ever again.” He pulled the key out of the ignition, glancing at the direction of your house. “We’re here.”

Your laughter died down when you followed the direction of his gaze. The lights were off except for the one lighting up the porch of the house you shared with your friends. You returned your gaze to him then. “Thanks for driving me home. Again.”

“I enjoyed your company. It’s the least I can do.”

You smiled warmly at him, reaching over to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek when he suddenly turned his head a fraction towards you. That minute change made your lips end up against his instead. He was surprised at first and remained immobile against you, but when you pulled away, he chased you back, connecting your mouths, his lips feeling soft and warm yet emitting that air of dominance as it coaxed yours to move in sync with his. You were kissing him back in no time, but you immediately caught yourself and withdrew, utterly flustered.

Your heart thudded heavily as he held you in his intense gaze, his tongue slowly running over his lower lip, making you even more mentally incapacitated. It made you want to just pull him back to you and covet those lips with yours again. You snapped out of it though. You already knew he was capable of hot-wiring and hijacking your brain.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you told him when you were able to form words again.

Sukuna looked at you from under his lashes, smiling slightly. “I’m not.”

Taken aback, you chuckled nervously. “No?”

He shook his head, reached over and ruffled your hair a bit. “Go inside. It’s late.” You nodded and disembarked from the car while he leaned on the steering wheel, watching you. You were already on the pavement, about to close the door, when he spoke again. “Can I come see you again?”

“Sure,” you said without thinking. “Good night, Sukuna.” Man, you just loved saying his name.

“Bye, Y/N. Good night.”

He drove away while you made your way towards your doorstep. Your fingers flew to your lips once you were standing on your porch, smiling to yourself at the realization of having kissed him. Shaking your head, you fished for the keys from your pocket and entered the house, not quite remembering how you got to your room, but you slept that night with pleasant dreams of running your fingers through pink locks of hair.

***

"I'm really sorry. Something came up and my phone died."

You acceded. It wasn’t as if Satoru did something so big. You went to the outdoor kiosks near the parking lot by the football grounds to catch up on some reading while Satoru ate and told you bits of his past few days, since he got held up at their family estate. Having such a traditional, high-ranking family in the country sure had its downsides, and you weren't about to make him even more agitated than he already was. He had it difficult, you knew that, and you weren’t about to be petty over him not coming to your supposed bonding time. He may be happy-go-lucky but you felt tension simmering just under the surface when you squeezed his hand in assurance.

Suguru and Ieiri followed shortly after Satoru fetched you from class, also surprised to see him there. "So, you finally decided to show up," the former said.

"Don't ask," Satoru said.

"Wasn't planning to," Suguru scoffed, his attention shifting to you. “What are you working on anyway?” he asked, flipping the file you were reading haphazardly to peer through the contents.

“I’m making an analysis report on ‘The Romantic Manifesto’.” you answered, looking up from the notes you were writing when your eyes suddenly strayed over his shoulder. You almost did a double-take, glancing at Suguru before returning your line of vision at the spot beyond where he sat.

“It’s due…” your voice trailed off when you realized just what, or rather who, you were looking at. You weren’t so sure whether what you were seeing was real or a mirage, a very familiar, specific and detailed one, but then, you figured it was the former when the person smirked and cocked his head to the side, beckoning you over to where he leaned against his grey Jeep as he raised a cup of what looked like cherry blossom tea.

Suguru arched a brow at you, looking behind him but not really noticing the object of your distraction. “Hey, you okay?”

Ieiri followed the direction of your gaze and nudged you when she saw who you were looking at. "Is that your Howard? Damn, girl. He’s sizzling."

You nodded, but at that same moment, you rose from the table without any explanation, your feet immediately leading you towards the outdoor carpark. When you were within earshot, you said, “What are you doing here?”

You stopped a few feet from him, glancing behind you to where the others had already turned their heads to follow the path you took, flashing you shit-eating grins. It wouldn’t surprise you anymore if they had pieced together who the person was before you. They claimed to be your ‘parents’ but acted like children at times.

“I brought you tea.” Sukuna walked towards you, standing so close that you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds as you inhaled his scent and took in his appearance, looking immaculate in a plain white shirt and faded jeans, but your brain only seemed to register those lips and the memory of how they felt against yours.

You shook your head, snapping out of your trance, mentally cursing at yourself. “Hi.” You exhaled loudly, trying hard not to smile like an idiot while you absently twirled your hair on your finger, suddenly seeing the world through a pinkish filter. "How do you keep finding me?"

Sukuna's smile dropped. “Did I come at an inconvenient time?” he asked gently, trying hard not to sound miffed, but he obviously was taken aback by your words.

“No.” You shook your head, placing a hand over your forehead. You finally smiled at him, letting out a choked snicker. “No, Sukuna. It’s good to see you. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting to see you here. And you didn't really tell me you were coming.”

He grinned at you then but he still appeared unsure, placing a hand behind his neck. “Right.”

You flashed him a helpless look. “Please don’t look at me like that. I’m just really surprised.”

“Hmm." He moved closer to you, wrapping your hand around the transparent disposable cup. His proximity was affecting you in ways you couldn't admit out loud. "Are you happy to see me, too?"

"Too? So, you're happy to see me?"

"Always."

That's it. You're done for. Trying to avoid his intense gaze and escaping his scrutiny, you glanced over your shoulder to find everyone on your table observing you blatantly. Satoru raised a thumb at you while Ieiri was giggling with Suguru.

"Are those your friends?" Sukuna commented, his minty breath fanning against the side of your face which made you turn a little too quickly to face him again only to be confronted by his face leaning towards yours, mere centimeters away.

“Y-yeah.” You leaned a bit backwards but he moved forward. “That they are.” You stepped backwards again, nearly faltering on your feet, but you immediately gained your balance when he grabbed you by the arm, steadying you.

"Are you alright?" Sukuna asked, looking at you with concern written all over his face which morphed into wonder when you said, "Yeah, you're just overwhelming."

"Huh?"

"I can't think properly when I'm around you," you stated casually, your expressions not giving anything away as per usual. You arched a brow at him when he did the same. "You hot-wire my brain."

"I know what you mean." He smirked despite his confusion. "Is that good or bad?"

You eyed him thoughtfully, biting on your lower lip. "Good for you, bad for me. You can probably tell me to eat dirt and I'd do it in a heartbeat."

He chuckled, looking at you tenderly. "You're too honest."

"To a fault," you agreed, "Suguru tells me all the time. Wanna meet them?"

He ruffled your hair. "Sure."

***

While you weren't exactly expecting to see Sukuna again after the night you met, he became of constant presence around you. You have gone out with him several times over the course of two months. He was a busy person and you also had your priorities, but he always makes you feel special whenever you two would be out and about, behaving like such a gentleman opening and closing doors for you, naturally shifting closer to traffic while you walked, bringing an extra jacket in case you felt cold or a larger umbrella so you don't get wet, bringing you your favorite tea whenever he could.

He picked you up from school for lunch twice, making the most of the hour, and one time, you brought him lunch at work when he suddenly canceled on you, saying he was swamped with work. He sounded really upset so you decided to go to him instead. You brought Suguru with you as a buffer, but Sukuna's colleagues still teased him. He was different in the office – gruff and strict which fitted him more – but he still beamed at you happily when you brought him food, not caring who saw.

Apart from the brief phone calls, you two never really texted. It wasn't really your thing and he didn't like it either, so it could go days on end without you saying anything to each other, but when you do get a chance to speak, it would always be like picking up on where you've left off. He has only ever sent you two messages. One to remind you to take good care of yourself because he was going to be away for a while and another one a week later asking if you wanted to go out with him that coming Friday night.

"Your timing's off," you told him over the phone. You really wanted to say yes, but, "Ieiri, the boys and I are going out that night. Gang tradition."

"Some other time then?"

"Sure."

You hung up after a few more exchanges of words, getting started on reading some notes when Ieiri entered the kitchen. "Was that Howard?"

"Yeah. He's inviting me to go out on Friday, but I already said yes to clubbing with you guys."

She grinned cheekily, wrapping an arm around you as she poked you on the cheek. At times, it feels like Satoru was rubbing off on her. "Are you sure you don't want to ditch us for the hot architect?"

"Hot architect –" You snickered. "Did you just say that?"

"I was supposed to say 'sugar daddy,' literally and figuratively. Sugar and his cotton candy hair. Get it?"

You narrowed your eyes at her, shaking your head. It was supposed to be amusing, but when Ieiri says it, it just sounds weird. "Can I read in peace now?"

She left you alone, but laughed at your expense.

Friday couldn't have rolled around fast enough and you headed out with your friends at the club owned by a friend of yours, prepared to party in a pair of tight-fitting jeans, a crop top and your hair hanging about in wavy layers. You were already expecting the place to be cramped as hell given the day of the week so much so that Suguru had to hold onto you tightly so as not to lose you when you entered until you found the area you had reserved for the night. It was for good measure too since the place was drenched in purple, blue and green laser lights which were disorienting at first. And so, your night began as such.

You were in the middle of dancing, only pausing when you had to down your nth shot for the night when your eyes suddenly strayed to the bar area at the elevated part of the club adjacent to the the leather seats. You looked away but returned your gaze towards said direction when you realized this very familiar guy was looking at you. He was watching you as you danced and let loose, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You craned your neck, looking back and thinking the guy looked a lot like Sukuna, but then he couldn’t be. He was engaged elsewhere, still you continued to ogle him until you were pretty sure it wasn’t the same person. But the longer you looked, the more it was being proven to you that it was him.

That lopsided smile drew itself across his lips, seeing as how you were doubting yourself about his identity. There was no mistaking that look on his face, the way his dark eyes seemed to sparkle whenever he smiled even if the action didn't belong there.

“Sukuna?” you mouthed his name and he nodded, motioning for you to come over with his head. It had been a solid ten days since you last saw him, and for some reason, your heart raced at the thought of seeing him there.

Without saying a word to the people you were with, you squeezed yourself through the crowd, your feet carrying to the upstairs bar, to Sukuna. It took you a while to traverse the space between you, and when you finally stood before him, all you could do was smile up at him, taking in the soft look about him as he regarded you which were at odds to those fiery eyes that had the capability to turn into bright orbs of light when he beamed down at you.

“Hello, Y/N. Once again, fate has brought you to me,” he said rather dramatically, a smirk drawing itself across his pretty mouth.

Laughter escaped your throat, unable to say anything when you realized that you actually missed him, missed looking at him. Unable to help it, you stood on your toes and reached out to touch his hair, the action surprising the both of you. He eyed you, his expressions that of a half-smile and a look of confusion while you retracted your hands as quickly as you felt his soft locks with your fingertips, wincing at the realization of what you were doing.

At that, he laughed heartily, stealing your hand and pressing it over the side of his head. “Go ahead. I don’t mind you touching me,” he told you, staring into your eyes that you felt like all the air in the room was gone.

You blinked at him, processing what he said and joined in his mirth. “You're here!” You shook your head when it dawned to you that you were stating the obvious. “I’m sorry. How are you, Sukuna?”

“Pink?” he offered and chuckled at his own joke which made your face heat up. “Kidding. I’m great. I missed you these past days. How are you?”

“You did?” You felt your insides melting at his statement, made worse when he nodded to confirm it. “I’m fine. Great. Where have you disappeared to anyway?”

He snickered a your question. “Madrid.”

Your jaw dropped. “As in Spain?”

He nodded. “Had to do something there.”

“Uh-huh.” His words were rather obscure, but you didn’t want to encroach on his private life.

“What are the odds that we’re at the same club?”

“The owner is a friend,” you answered, smiling awkwardly as you glanced at the direction of your friends on the dance floor. You saw all of them looking at you. Suguru winked at you, giving you the thumbs up, making you laugh at his silliness.

“The gang’s all here, I see.”

“What?” You faced Sukuna, finding him leaning close beside you against the metal balustrade. Just then, a waiter passed by holding a whole tray of shots, and before you could duck, he grabbed you by the waist so that you were leaning against him with no quantifiable space between your bodies. Your eyes widened in shock and you froze, your thoughts clouded by the familiar smell of rain in a bamboo forest during Maytime. “T-thanks…”

He hummed in response to your gratitude, but he didn’t let you go. “I didn’t know you enjoyed places like this, too.”

“Why is that?” you asked, feigning ignorance to how close you two were.

"I never pinned you for the party animal type. I kinda developed a fondness for that quiet, nerdy girl sitting at the corner of the pub."

"Not exactly. I prefer Maki's place to be honest but coming here once in a while doesn't hurt. Especially with those three." You frowned slightly at him then as you thought of something. “So, why didn’t you approach me?” You motioned towards the dancefloor. “I'm sure the three-headed monster won't mind if you joined us. You alone?”

“Yes, sweetheart, but aren't you supposed to be hanging out with them?" You grabbed his arm before he could refuse you and started leading him towards where the others were.

However, he had other plans in mind. Again, he hooked an arm around your waist until your back was leaning against him. You eyed him sideways, startled by his actions, but unable to counteract it anyway as you’re just stunned speechless all the while. “You can go back to them, Y/N, but I don’t think I should go with you.”

You turned around, gently easing away from his hold. “Why not? They already know you, and they like you.”

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a party pooper.” He leaned towards you, tilting his head to the side while his lower lip slightly jutted out.

"What are you talking about?” You rolled your eyes at him then snickered.

He eyed you seriously then. “Just in case this is a friends-only affair?”

“Satoru already ruined that by bringing his girls into the mix.” You laughed at him when you saw him hesitate. “Come on, Sukuna. Join us. For me?” You showed him your best impression of puppy-dog eyes. “Pretty please?”

When you saw that he wasn’t budging, you changed your argument. “Fine. Dance with me then.” You didn’t give him any time to contradict you as you took him by the hand and dragged him to the dancefloor.

He was just standing still, looking uncomfortable as you started to groove to the beat, so you took his arms and started moving them until he was moving on his own, finally breaking into that smile. He looked too awkward that you wanted to laugh but decided against it, simply raising your hands and feeling the music.

“Aren’t you having fun?” you asked him as you were bobbing your head to the bass.

“I am!” he answered above the music.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun. Are you shy?” You chuckled openly at that.

“No.”

“You don’t dance?”

“I can dance.”

You giggled. “Then show me what you’ve got!”

Without a warning, he started moving in sync with you, taking your hands in his and finally letting loose in such a graceful manner as you both got into the beat and started waving and swaying against one another, his hands slowly running at your sides in sensual rhythms that got you reeling in excitement. You almost forgot that you were with other people as you danced with him. It was fun and it felt good to be that carefree, not minding your friends, drinks flowing in nonstop.

Soon, the group you’ve left joined you and Sukuna. They all greeted him excitedly while the boys exchanged high-fives with him as they were dancing. Satoru and the two girls who were with him also joined in and somewhere along that, Suguru offered everyone cigarettes, and you gladly took one when you saw Sukuna taking one as well. You didn’t really smoke on a regular basis but you didn’t exactly shy away from the so-called cancer sticks.

After taking another shot, you pulled Sukuna out of the dancefloor, hollering at the others as you raised your cigarette, signaling where you were going in case they wanted to come with. You made your way to the smoking area at the veranda situated at the back of the building with the older male in tow. You were pretty much buzzed, calming down from the high you had while dancing, grinning wide as the cool night air met you, making your lungs expand as you breathed in.

Sukuna watched you as he took his place against the banister, following him shortly as you produced a lighter from your pocket, something that you always carried just in case.

“You smoke?” he asked, toying with his own battered stick, twirling it around his long fingers.

“Sometimes,” you admitted, watching his reaction. “And you?”

“Not really.”

“You took one anyway.” You wedged the item in question between your lips and raised the lighter, but before you could light it, it was pulled out from your mouth and the next thing you knew, Sukuna was kissing you, his lips pressed against yours as he pulled you closer by the hips which he seemed to have a fixation for since you came up to him. It was a soft yet urgent kiss that cajoled you to respond, and not long after, your lips were submissive clouds moving to the will of the wind that was his luscious mouth.

Like the first time you felt his lips against yours, electricity ran through your body as if he was touching you elsewhere apart from your mouth. It was driving you off the edge of sanity, and you knew you’d probably jump off a cliff for the male. He grinned at your dazed state when your eyes met after he finally pulled away, showing you the cigarette that was supposed to be between your lips before he unceremoniously laid claim to them.

“You’re going to ruin your lips by smoking. I’m keeping this,” he told you.

You were too mesmerized with the tingling feeling in your mouth while your eyes stayed glued to his as you blinked slowly, your mind and heart racing at a thousand miles per second. “W-why would you do that?” you stammered, feeling your throat go so dry that you had to drag the words out.

“Apart from the fact that it’s terribly unhealthy, it ruins your sense of smell and taste.” He waved the cigarette in front of you before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. “Scientific fact.”

You couldn’t quite process what he was saying. You were asking why he kissed you, but he misunderstood. “Are you going to taser me with your lips every single time I’m about to smoke?”

“Taser…” He chuckled and narrowed his eyes at you. “I might just if it means these dangerous things don’t touch your pretty mouth.”

“What the –” You didn’t know if you would be scandalized by what he said or if you were going to laugh. The latter won and you tittered. “That’s a good one.”

“I mean it, Y/N.”

Boldness engulfed your whole thought process as you stepped closer to him, looking straight into his eyes. “And if I insist on it? Placing dangerous things in my pretty mouth? What are you going to do then?”

He, too, leaned forward, eyes flicking to your lips. “Then I guess I just have to keep your mouth too busy to even think about smoking again,” he whispered to you, his breath hitting your lips.

You smirked at him then. “I guess I just have to make sure you aren’t around if I do feel like smoking.”

He pouted. You burst out laughing.

You reached over and pinched both of his cheeks. “You’re so adorable.”

Sukuna swatted your hands away, but smiled nonetheless. "You're the only one who says I'm adorable."

"You are. You just don't know it."

“Okay then. If you say so.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear then, your skin tingling where he touched you. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Not really.”

“Good. I wanna do something for you.”

You eyed him questioningly. “Hmm. What?”

“That’s a surprise.”

It was already around two in the morning when everyone had the unanimous decision to leave the club which was still packed. You, too, were getting tired especially after Ieiri ended up hammered and Satoru was emptying his guts through his mouth. Suguru was a bit drunk, too, but he was trying his best to help you take care of them. Sukuna had been very nice all night, even helping you load Satoru and Ieiri into the backseat of Suguru’s car.

“Would you like me to drive you home?” he asked you after shutting the door to the backseat.

“No, I’m gonna be fine. Besides, I can’t just leave Suguru to deal with them both.” You motioned to his Jeep. “You should go ahead, too.”

Sukuna grimaced as he nodded. “I guess that would be for the best. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. You take good care now.”

“You, too, sweetheart.” He stepped forward and pulled you against him, hugging you, enveloping you in his warmth and that scent you loved profusely. “It’s really great seeing you tonight.”

You returned the gesture, smiling up at him as you tried to compose yourself. “It’s great seeing you, too.” You stood on your toes and pecked him on the cheek before giving him a gentle shove towards the car. “See you, Sukuna.”

He waved at you then boarded the car. You watched as it disappeared down the street before turning away to enter the club to get Suguru who was left to settle the bills. You found him seated on one of the couches, finding your way easily since the crowd thinned a bit.

“You okay, dude?” you asked when you reached him. He was pale and he looked like he was going to throw up anytime. “Do you need to go to the restroom?”

He shook his head. “Just get me out of here.”

You chuckled, leading him faster out of the club. You sat him down on passenger side and soothed his back, asking after him again as you started the engine. He said he was fine, laughing when he caught a glimpse of the two who were already passed out on the backseat with Satoru lying on Ieiri’s lap while her head was lolling limply to the side.

The drive was rather short without much cars on the road, but Suguru was still able to squeeze in a conversation, and of all the topics he could broach, it had to be about Sukuna.

“I thought Sukuna will be driving you home,” he began, glancing at you.

“He offered, but I can’t just leave you.”

“That would have been okay.” He glanced at the rearview mirror then, checking on the two, you could only guess. He could be such a mother hen at times. “I think he’s cool.”

“Mhmm.”

“And he’s really good-looking,” Suguru threw in with a chuckle. “Just date already.”

You chuckled. “Why don’t you date him instead?”

“Don’t you want to try it out with him?”

“He hasn’t even asked me to date him.”

“Yeah, but he already kissed you –”

“How did you know about that?” you demanded, mortified. Your cheeks were heating up again at the memory of it.

“Well, you’re in a public place.” He laughed. “So, it’s bound to end in dating anyway.”

“Not necessarily.” You turned sideways to look at him. “He’s older after all, not that I see the age gap as a problem. But you know, he might just be passing time.”

“He obviously likes you. If you date him, it’s a win-win situation. You like him, too, you just don’t know it.”

You scoffed. “How can you say that?”

He blew a raspberry. Typical Suguru behavior. “You can be yourself around him. You’re all smiley face around him, too. I saw you. You can’t lie to me.”

“Really now?”

“Yeah. You look your best that way. And don’t ever think you are just a pastime. I’ll kill him if he treats you as such.” He smiled knowingly at you. “Besides, you should date properly. Enough with your flings with stupid boys in campus.”

“Okay, dad.” You sighed, trying to contain your excitement. “I do like him though. He’s so nice to me.”

Suguru reached over patting you on the shoulder. “Ah! My daughter is a grown-woman.”

You swatted at his hand, laughing at his antics.

-end of part 1-

If you're curious who Howard Roark is, he's one of my fave literary characters from Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead." He's excellently made. That's it.

Can architect!sukuna please call me "sweetheart," too?

If you want to be included in the tag list, please DM me :) I'll be posting every week (or I'll try to anyway). Someone remind me to post the next chapters please?

Additional notes are available in the masterlist, particularly on the reasons why I wrote some things the way I did. I don't know what I'm trying to prove there, but haha!

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210618]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES FULLY CREDITED TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[interact-if]

Day 10, 2/2 of the A/PI Heritage Month featured authors interview! For our final entry, we have the amazing Shai!

Shai, author of Hollowed Minds 

A/PI Heritage Month Feature Author

“You will play as a disgraced detective, entangled in webs of conspiracies and betrayal as your character engages in a suspicious probation - with a whole lot of enigmatic hallucinations and explosions to deal with. It will be up to you to shape your detective’s (or Ripper’s, if you prefer to call them that) perception and motivations. After all, Gaile City is a place full of secrets - some of them belonging to your own character’s family - and you’ll have the freedom how to act accordingly.”

Author's Kofi

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

To put it simply, Hollowed Minds is a long quest on morality and relationships. You'll start as a disgraced detective, once a favored hero of the city until this one unfortunate mistake, and now you're forced into a suspicious probation that you shouldn't even be in. There would be a lot of challenges and suffering along the way, and you can either help your character maintain their heroic ideals or succumb to the darkness that the future brings.

Q1: First of all, introduce us to your project! What is it about?

There are a lot of things to uncover in the story, but the main issues in the first book would be the mysterious hallucinations that people are suffering from and the explosions that would shake the fundamentals of the society. There would be several approaches to choose from as you go forward, some of which may be quite outside the law, and you could opt to use a certain ‘talent’—one with accompanying repercussions—to learn more secrets. You would also have the choice to cultivate your relationships with the people you trust the most and have your interactions with them matter in the long run.

As it is, you'd have a large target on your back, owing to a sinister group with a very sinister plan—something that might be worse than death.

Q2: If it’s not too spoilery, what are you most excited about your project?

First of all, the reputation system. You can manipulate how the general public would see you, either as the hero they once saw you as, or a corrupted personality that everyone would loathe. Best thing about it? You can hide your real intentions. This would have a lot of interesting consequences, especially if your character's actions tend to be the opposite of what they're perceived as.

Second, the most awaited reunion. People who have read the available demo would know what this refers to, and well, it's about to happen soon, so I'm very excited about the idea of writing the whole scene!

Then there's this one big chapter that I know would be torturous to write and code. Basically, you'll be choosing how to 'infiltrate' this certain location, the person whom you'd be with most of the time, a decision between accomplishing what you came there for or sacrificing it for something else, how you'd get out, and where you'd go to after the whole thing. It will be a wild ride of twists and emotions, and it's not even the endgame. A lot may change with this chapter alone, and it's one of those things I think about a lot before going to sleep.

Lastly, the customization of the main character. The motivations, blame mechanic, alcoholic/non-alcoholic option, and relationships (romantic or not). Those little details would change a lot of content in the narrative and maybe in the plot itself. Whether you want to build a character who's kind to a fault or an anti-hero who wouldn't hesitate to make questionable decisions, the journey would be entirely yours.

Q3: What inspired the current project you’re working on?

It was based from a short story of mine that won a small competition back in 2018. They share similar themes, but the short story was a lot darker than I could ever put in a game that I plan to get published.

I initially thought of starting my IF writing attempts with the supernatural genre—it does seem to be a successful area—but that short story was probably the first piece of mine that I've come to appreciate, and I wanted to at least honor that. The writing style that I adopted, the evocative tone I learned to use, and the plot pieces that I've managed to be good at crafting—they all started with that story.

Looking back, there aren't much similarities anymore between the two, maybe aside from the appearance of certain characters, but the themes are still the same.

It will definitely be a huge challenge to implement what I have on mind, but I do hope people would love what's to come.

Q4: Do you pull from your own identity for inspiration? How has that been reflected in your work?

I grew up in a troublesome neighborhood, along with people who continue to fight against the struggles. That's both good and bad, I suppose. Philippines has a lot of corruption deep in its roots, I won't deny that, but there are also people working hard for the changes they want. That's one of the biggest influences I've got in this story.

As we delve into the plot, the readers would discover more questionable decisions that some characters may have made or would make. It's parallel to how I witnessed people having differing reactions to injustice and the way they make changes in their lives as a response. Adding to that, I personally know the feeling of grief, and I’ve seen how the people around me deal with it themselves.

There are also moral choices to be had in the game, and when I speak of that, it's not going to be just around choosing between saving/killing people. It's about the main character's intentions and emotions, and how the revelations might slowly change their views. It would be a story that will steadily define your character’s perceptions amid the threats.

Q5: What’s been your experience so far? With writing, with the if community...

It's been great. I appreciate the people who have reached out in various ways to share their love for my work and to give meaningful feedback that are continuously helping me shape the story in a better way. And honestly, I'm so overwhelmed with excitement for all the support I'm getting. I didn't even expect a lot of people to like the story this early. That's why I'm so thankful!

There's also a great IF author whom I've been occasionally getting advice from, and they've been a huge reason as to why I even managed to make the first steps. Interacting with other writers is something that I never really expected myself to do, but I’m quite glad I did it.

Q6: Do you have any future projects in the works?

There are three more interactive fiction stories I've already thought of, though I won't be actively working on them until I finish the Hollowed Minds series, which would take a long while. Their temporary titles are respectively "Corrupted Legacies" (fantasy), "The Remnant's Keeper" (supernatural horror), and "A Hero's Touch" (superhero story with a twist).

Aside from that, I'm also looking forward to finishing my fantasy novel, one that I've been delaying for years, literally, as soon as I finish the first book of Hollowed Minds.

Q7: Finally, what piece of advice would you give to fellow authors?

Write what you want to write. I know that you're all probably tired of hearing this, but it is still very important. During the planning stages, you'd most likely be excited to show the readers what you've got in store. You'd be proud of it, and you'd believe that it's one of the most brilliant ideas out there. Then a few days after you finish planning, you'll realize it may not attract as much readers as you may have expected initially. Then you'll get tempted to change your visions for the story and adopt the plot lines that the famous works have.

Do not abandon your own vision.

It's your work. It's your masterpiece. Listen to feedback, sure, and let them guide you into becoming a better writer, but do not let go of the things that made your work your own. Some way or another, there will be people who would love your story, and they'd deeply appreciate that you made it the way it is.

So don't hesitate. Is it weird? Is it unconventional? Does it belong to a genre that's not as popular as the others? It doesn't matter. Write it, polish it, and show it to the world.

People will love it as long as you do.

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

read here or on ao3!

Being a Regulator was one of the worst jobs Killian had ever decided to take. Don’t get her wrong, she knew that the purpose she served was great; she totally believed in doing everything in her power to keep the world safe, but it was so incredibly lonely. A good portion of Killian’s job description involved being prepared to kill any of her colleagues at a given moment. Didn’t exactly make for the most fun office relationships.

It was scary to think that at any moment, anyone in the Bureau could make a break against their procedures and require - well – regulation. When the Director had first approached about employment, Killian didn’t think much about it.

Okay, so my duties would be to stop people who use these things that you’re looking for?

In very simple terms, yes.

Great. When do I start?

Are you certain, Killian? This is going to be a highly dangerous job.

Listen, Madam Director, it beats the current gig I got so I’m in.

As the Bureau grew and turned into something much grander and more professional, Killian began to excel. She proved herself time and time again to be the most competent Regulator that the Bureau had. But it was that fact that she grappled with most.

Killian tried to keep a neutral face when she entered the Director’s office. She was being sent down planetside, though the details of the mission hadn’t yet been revealed to her.

“Killian, thank you for coming so quickly. As you know, your services are needed,” The Director’s face looked troubled and far away. “It’s Brian.” Killian let out a sharp, exasperated laugh.

“No way, Brian? Magic Brian? Director, surely there’s some kind of mistake! He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Killian thought of the highly complimentary, dramatic drow she’d met her first day on the base. They had both been in the first crop of employees and they had become fast friends. Everyone had taken to calling him Magic Brian because he was simply too bombastic to have such a plain name. And he was one of the most accomplished arcanists any of the Bureau employees had seen.

“Killian, I wish that were the case. Unfortunately, during his reconnaissance mission to locate the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet, he began to turn his back on the Bureau. Rather than seeking the Gauntlet for the good of the organization, we have it on good authority that he has started to seek it out for personal gain. In fact, we believe that he has,” the Director paused for a moment, considering her words carefully. “We believe he has hostages of sorts. It’s vital that you get down there, deal with him, and if you can, retrieve the Gauntlet.” Killian’s stomach fell. Regulating was one thing. That was her job, one she was very good at. But the idea of having to actually handle one of the relics herself? It scared her more than she cared to say.

“And I’m going alone?”

“Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be another option. Leeman is in the midst of preparing for a reclaiming mission himself and I don’t feel comfortable sending another Seeker down because I do fear that would put you in a hard position. Furthermore, I don’t believe the other Regulators are capable yet, frankly.” Killian’s thoughts rushed to Carey Fangbattle and to Boyland. Her regulator team. She was the unofficial captain, she supposed. She’d been at the Bureau for a few months longer than the two of them. And she also understood the Director’s unspoken addendum. She didn’t want to send more Regulators than necessary in case Killian herself had to be dealt with. Killian clenched her jaw, hoping no hesitation showed on her face.

“I’ll go get suited up and meet you and Avi at the hangar.”

“Actually, it’s just going to be Avi. He’s now going to be the sole one in charge of the Bureau’s transportation needs. The Millers have been working on adjustments to our system that make it easier to be manned by a single operator.”

“Oh shit, good for him.”

“Yes, he’s proven himself to be quite competent.” Lucretia reached into her desk and retrieved parchment and an inkwell. Killian turned to leave the Director’s office. “Oh, and Killian?”

“Yes, Madam Director?” the Director pressed her lips into a tight line.

“Don’t disclose the details of this to anyone yet. I know this is likely going to hit everyone hard and I frankly don’t want you to have to deal with that. I’ll figure out how to break the news.” Killian nodded and exited the office.

 

Late in the night she returned from the ruins of Phandalin, Killian found herself in the voidfish’s chambers. There had been a miraculous amount of excitement at the fact that a relic had been recovered and that the Bureau’s Reclaimer team had grown by three. Killian had done her best to slip away, sight unseen after she debriefed with the Director. She didn’t exactly feel like celebrating.

Instead, she felt like sitting on the ground in front of the voidfish’s tank, basking in its gentle light. She knew that Brian's Rites of Remembrance had been hastily done since the Director informed the Bureau of his treason. Traitors don’t get honor. But they do get grief, Killian thought to herself. She knew that Brian was too far gone by the time she reached him. She knew that he’d been ready to kill her with no second thought. She knew that he’d betrayed the Bureau and that betrayals wouldn’t stand in the organization. But all those facts didn’t keep her heart from twinging at the thought of Brian’s life just being wiped from memory.

“How’re you holding up?” Killian turned and saw Johann stride out from the shadows of the large room. She sighed and shrugged. Johann gazed at the voidfish for a moment before sitting on the ground beside her. They sat in silence for a while until a squeak by the doorway caused them both to turn around. Avi gave a meek wave before entering the room.

“Hey Avi,” Killian murmured quietly. He said nothing as he sat on Killian’s other side. The trio’s gazed up at the voidfish.

“Killian,” Avi began suddenly, “How was he?”

“He wasn’t himself. Not at all. I don’t know if that made it easier or harder, to be honest. I'm just glad that it wasn’t me who did him in.”

“Right, it was one of the new guys?” Johann turned to look at Killian for a moment. She nodded.

“Yeah, that new wizard, Taako, I think. I just still can’t believe he’s gone.” Killian didn’t tell anyone about the fact that she didn’t land a single hit on Magic Brian or his stupid fucking spider. She went running as soon as she could.

Avi tilted his head back and frowned. “Shit. His fiancé.” The trio grimaced. They all had lovely and ornate invitations in their own dormitories to Brian’s wedding. But at least the voidfish was supposed to handle all the messy things for the non-inoculated.

“I'm gonna miss that son of a bitch.” Johann mused quietly.

“Me too.” A gravitas-filled voice made the trio turn. The Director stood in the doorway, flanked by Carey and Boyland. They approached, staying mostly silent. Carey squeezed Killian’s shoulder and the six of them stayed in the voidfish’s chambers for some time.

 

Killian really did her best to keep from getting close to her coworkers, especially after what she was forced to do in Wave Echo Cave. It was terrifying to think that someday someone could be her coworker and then her assignment the very next day. Annoyingly, though, Carey Fangbattle seemed determined to break through Killian’s walls. She had done her best to get Killian to open up about her past, her fears, and everything in-between. Killian did her best to keep the dragonborn woman at arm’s length but the rogue was persistent.

“So, what was your deal before the Bureau?” she had asked one day while the pair was sparring. Boyland was home visiting family.

“Uh, you know, typical stuff. Pretty small family, we’re from a town outside of Neverwinter. They’re mostly all fighters so I took up that mantle. It was a pretty basic choice. What about you?”

“Heh, less basic than that. Small family too, just my parents, my brother, and me. He became a bard and I became a rogue. Our parents hate both these paths for both of us,” Carey chuckled after dodging a particularly swift sideswipe from Killian. “But you can’t ever seem to please barbarians, you know?” Killian laughed stepped out of the way of a deft roll Carey did. They continued sparring and joking for hours.

 

Killian found herself back in the voidfish’s chambers after she heard about Leeman Kessler and again after she heard about Captain Captain Bane. She hadn’t been particularly close to either of them be she saw that both these losses hurt Avi and Lucretia, respectively. Both times, she found herself surrounded by the five others who’d come together after the death of Magic Brian. They never coordinated it or spoke about it but something about basking in the company of each other in the glow of the voidfish gave them all a comfort none of them would admit to needing. At one point, Carey began to slip in beside Killian, forcing Avi to scoot to the orc’s other side. The rest of them changed position pretty frequently, depending on when they arrived. The Director eventually began siting on the floor with the five of them. When they were all in their unofficial ceremony for Captain Captain Bane, everyone had the courtesy to ignore the few tears shed by the Director.

 

Killian began to grow closer to Carey which scared the orc. It wasn’t that she didn’t love all the joy that the rogue brought her. That wasn’t it at all. But she couldn’t help but think about the fact that part of both their job descriptions involved being prepared to destroy their colleagues at any given moment. It wasn’t that Killian didn’t want to grow closer to Carey. If she was being honest, she’d love nothing more. She was just terrified.

 

Five of them gathered after Killian and Carey returned from the Miller’s lab. Boyland’s Rites ceremony wouldn’t be performed for some time. None of them were prepared to write out every detail of the man who’d brightened their days countless times.

They’d all already gathered after learning of the passing of Maureen Miller, but this time was different.

Maureen Miller and Lucas Miller would not receive Rites, though that didn’t stop the group from mourning them. Killian and Carey had quietly agreed to keep up the charade Magnus had set up in the lab. They both intended on interrogating him about it, but this was not the place to unwind it.

Truthfully, all of them were openly crying. Their tears were mostly quiet but they traced bright, shiny paths down their faces in the glow of the tank.

“Fucking Boyland. Him and his fucking cigars,” Carey said, leaning against Killian. She said nothing, instead choosing to wrap a protective arm around the dragonborn woman.

“I just can’t stop thinking about all his kids,” Avi’s face was unusually solemn. He retrieved his flask from his pocket and took a swig from it before passing it to Johann.

“Well, I mean, I understand that he was using a relic but,” Johann took a swig and passed the flask to Killian “Lucas was just a kid. I can’t believe that the Miller line is just… gone.”

Killian drank from the flask and passed it to Carey. “I can’t believe all the sketchy shit he was doing in that lab.” Carey gulped down some Brandywine and tentatively passed the flask to the Director.

“Grief is one hell of a drug,” the Director said hollowly, draining the remainder of the flask. “He was destroyed by the loss of his mother. Losing a loved one makes you do terrible things, especially if you think you could get them back.” She slid the flask back to Avi. The four others in the chamber glanced at the Director but said nothing. She was a woman who seemed to be haunted by griefs none of them could ever imagine.

 

Killian let her guard down at last. She let Carey inside her walls and was truthfully never happier. There was still an ever-present stripe of fear in Killian’s heart but somehow, when Carey was in her arms, it didn’t matter so much. Killian decided to appreciate and love Carey while she was alive rather than wait until she was despairing in front of a cryptic fish with an assortment of her closest friends and confidants.

 

After the day of Story and Song, after the Hunger had been defeated, after the base had been cleaned up, after a world of revelations had come to light, Killian and Carey found themselves in the voidfish’s chambers. Well, what used to be the voidfish’s chambers. Fisher was no longer there, the tank was shattered, and there was a noticeable absence in the room. They still sat in the spots they’d become so used to sitting in, though the room was far darker than it used to be. They both had their head in their hands when they heard familiar footsteps pad into the room. Avi practically collapsed next to Killian. She wrapped an arm around her friend and pulled him in close. None of them could speak. What could you say?

“I can’t believe it. In his last fucking act he just –“ Avi broke his sentence off and shook his head. He reached into his pocket and fished out his flask, dented but still functional. He held it up in a toasting motion and took a deep drink. Killian grabbed it from him and followed suit before passing it to Carey. Like a ghost, the Director, Lucretia, the woman they all suddenly knew in ways they never expected, appeared at Carey’s side. She wordlessly and unceremoniously sat down, taking the flask.

“How are you all doing?” she asked after a sip of Brandywine.

“Uh, not fucking great.” Avi reached out for the flask with one hand, scrubbing tears away with the other.

“Yeah, Madam Director, it’s been a bit of a day,” Carey said hoarsely before burying her face into Killian’s side.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Well, how are you doing, Lucretia?” Killian asked after a moment of silence. Lucretia barked out a humorless laugh.

“Shitty.”

 

Carey and Killian’s wedding was a beautiful affair, but it wasn’t without its more somber moments. The two women had an entire row of empty chairs reserved at the ceremony. They said nothing about their purpose but it didn’t take much energy to determine their purpose.

At one point in the evening, the pair found themselves sitting with Avi and Lucretia.

“And here’s the beautiful couple!” Avi said brightly, wrapping the brides in a tight hug.

“The ceremony was beautiful,” Lucretia delivered a hug to the couple once they detangled from Avi.

“It really was, huh?” Carey squeezed Killian’s hand. Killian’s smile was tinged with sadness.

“Hey um. Thank you both for being here. There’s already too many people missing and I don’t know how it would have been without you both.”

“Killian, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Lucretia reached a hand out and squeezed the orc’s arm. Avi looked around and snagged four glasses of champagne off a waiter’s tray. After passing glasses to the three women around him, Avi raised his glass in a toast.

“To Johann and Boyland.”

Carey raised her glass. “To Noelle and Captain Captain Bane.”

Lucretia followed suit. “To Maureen Miller and Magic Brian.”

Killian raised her glass. “Fuck it, to Fisher and Junior.” The four laughed gently before toasting.

Killian was never more grateful for her friends than she was in that moment. So much had been lost in the pursuit of balance, but she was grateful that their memories would remain with her. And she was never so glad to have been finished with a job.

[i-love-hobbies]

The biggest criticism Lilith's redemption arc gets and Eda's biggest strength

(ft. me getting completely side tracked and wanting a Hooty redemption arc)

Ok, so firstly I wanna talk about real life and then say how it was done in the owl house.

I hate the words "Everyone should get what they deserve." Cause firstly this never happens, secondly, the words are very vague and it opens a window of miscommunication and thirdly, cause in Lilith's case they are focused at, she needs to be hurt in order to change.

There are even people that have said that they are looking forward to watching Lilith suffer (I don't know if I've said it on the internet but I was one of them.)

Revenge has been proven to not make people feel better. And a lot of therapists usually say you need to forgive people. That doesn't mean fix the relationship, it means try to stop wishing they get hurt. Cause the feeling is only hurting you.

Also it's a normal human feeling to be angry, so no I'm not calling people monsters for this. And forgiveness is a hard process that takes a lot of work, but it usually isn't helped by hurting others.

The words people usually use to defend this sentence are:

"Consequences change people's minds or at the very least make them scared of doing it again."

Ok so how about we use this sentence instead, it's short enough and the main mission now is keeping ourselves safe Instead of it being hurting someone, you're still wishing it but it's not the main goal, it's a secondary one.

Well, cause it immediately shows two issues both statements have.

Firstly a friendship with someone that wants to hurt you but is scared of doing so is not a healthy one, cause they'll just try to be sneaky. You can only do it with people that aren't close to you like how the authorities do it towards criminals.

Secondly punishments rarely change people's minds. They've never worked on me, especially when you attack my identity, cause this way you make it even worse. And expecting that you can change someone usually means you're about to fail.

"But we can't get rid of punishments, people will hurt us."

I'm not saying we should. I'm saying our main goal should be our safety and hurting them may happen but it shouldn't be important.

Or better yet:

"Building healthy boundaries to the point where you're not getting hurt anymore, but not going overboard."

Examples:

- You have a friend you see Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday. But on Wednesdays, after work, they usually are very ignorant of your feelings and sometimes joke at your expense. So you stop going out at Wednesdays.

They might never ask why you did it and that's ok, cause you're not getting hurt anymore.

But usually they do ask why? You explain to them the issue with respect, don't call them names.

Some people will change after this and you can get rid of the boundary later on.

Other people may acknowledge this and say it's a good idea, cause they are overwhelmed, but never change.

Other other people may start hurting you even more. You build the boundaries even more, sometimes to the point you cut them out of your life, even if they weren't hurting you intentionally.

Which is completely ok if you can't maintain contact without being hurt.

- Eda's handling of Gwendolyn's cures is another good one. She never called her names or anything. She just made sure that Gwen can't hurt her anymore. Cause it wasn't only the cures. Eda's feelings were always getting ignored. She literally couldn't talk with her about anything other than the curse. Her emotions were getting neglected.

- Eda's handling of Tibbles is also an interesting example.

At first after the scamming she just left him. She couldn't see how he could hurt her.

And in episode 14 she killed him. Cause he showed that he would do anything to murder her dump kids and knew their address. Almost same story with Adegast.

Yes murder in this extreme cases can be a healthy boundary.

Lilith's relationships with the owl fam

King:

King didn't know Lilith was living with them and knows about her neglect.

Luz:

Luz would only stand up for others never for herself which is very unhealthy. I don't know if she forgave Lilith, but I can see her not mentioning it if she hasn't and playing along as a teacher.

"The real mystery is how she can be both so smart and yet so wrong at the same time. Academics, am I right?"

The closest one to her she has roasted like this, is her mentor, who firstly makes people feel safe.

"EDA, You're embarrassing me Infront of my crew." - Raine, after thirty years of not seeing her.

Secondly, she was being a jerk, she was teaching Luz about cards while she was begging for magic lessons and was not getting it for weeks.

"Cards, the paper rectangles that old people think are fun."

Heck, she might even be scared of Lilith. She almost got killed.

So far I don't have a reason to think she likes her. She hasn't really talked with her or about her much.

Eda:

Eda has already shown that she can handle conflicts in relationships. Like in episode 9, where she got Luz into Hexside and everything I already said.

I made an entire post about Eda being too emotional and I still stand by it, but serious situations that have to do with relationships, she usually is very rational and good at handling them. Probably because of the curse making her afraid of her anger and countless people attacking her.

At the beginning of the series Eda probably was expecting that the worst case scenario would be for Lilith to catch her and if Lilith isn't given the time to realise what she did, she'd be killed and best case scenario Lilith changes.

Episode 5, where Lilith burned down her wanted posters, episode 8 where Lilith was gonna get her straight in the coven instead of arresting her, episode 11, where Lilith said she wanted for Eda to join on her own and episode 17, where they played grudgby.

Proved to her even more that Lilith cares a lot for her and maybe she will change.

Then episode 18 happened and King wanting hugs and Luz's "Let me die!" Suddenly the worst case scenario became not her dieing but her dieing and the trauma the kids will experience. The fact that they won't have her in their lifes.

Lilith says "Then why were you so easy to curse?!?" This does not sound like "I accidentally did this and I'm sorry." No, Eda thought Lilith did this on purpose. And now her kids might get killed by her own sister cause she was too naive to trust her.

From now on I don't think she was trying to kill her cause Lilith isn't dangerous without raw power like Adegast and Tibbles, but to disable her is a possibility.

To add to this Eda wasn't rational almost throughout the entire finale. She probably didn't pick up on the line "If you would just let me explain." Just like she didn't question why Lilith was thrown in a cage.

Then she learns that Lilith commited treason together with her kids and started feeling like she doesn't know the full story, but Lilith is still a caring person. So she jumps Infront of the beam to save both Lilith and King.

Afterwards Lilith shares the curse and has nowhere to go if she gets kicked out so there is no reason to believe that she would hurt them physically.

I know in a post I said I don't think she fully processed the situation with Lilith. But now I think I was only half right.

She didn't fully process how much she was hurt but she understood Lilith's situation. Forgave her as soon as possible, not immediately. But that doesn't mean she rebuilded the relationship as soon as she forgave her.

First of, the forgiveness part happened after episode 1. The entire episode she was guilt tripping her, which I don't think was helping the situation. It makes Lilith more emotional which then makes it harder for her to face reality.

I'm not calling Eda a bad person for this but I do think it was a mistake.

What wasn't a mistake but a good thing is Eda wasn't the one to listen to her problems, it was Hooty. Cause her emotional health matters too and standing in one room with her sister is challenging.

And now I'm wondering does Eda know about how Lilith was treated by both the coven and their parents.

Eda calling Lilith a tool, seems to me more of them competing with each other rather than the recent events. Also Lilith forcing her rules without saying why they are there.

I'm glad the episode ended with them switching roles, where Lilith is now more powerful. Though I'm pretty sure the roles are getting switched again.

So what about the rebuilding of the relationship or should I say trust.

Well they didn't show us much, but I think the trust isn't fully back.

Cause she has only been proving that she can be physically trusted like when she saved King's life.

Eda never opens up, which is unhealthy. But in this case it's a healthy boundary, cause King did it and he got Lilith projecting onto him.

Lilith isn't good at being mentally supportive and still has bad habits.

Lulu and Hootsifer

Hooty helping Lilith was something, she really needed and didn't take for granted, cause the only one to ever even consider this is Eda.

They are buddies that look out for each other. I wouldn't say they talk a lot about feelings as they have no idea how to do that, but there are examples where they do.

Like "What kind of a witch am I?" and Hooty's letter.

Her letter for Hooty, was supportive, but ignored the issue of Hooty always being in people's personal space.

Which led to Hooty drugging Eda, kidnapping three children and almost killing said kids when his plans didn't work the way he wanted. He also ate the letter for King.

I want a Hooty redemption arc, now!

[my-writings-and-musings]

Could you do TFP bots (or just a few of them if you have charcater limit or just don't feel like doing them all, as long as Wheeljack is ingluded I'm good) with a human they just recued and they're like "I'm gonna call my dad hold on" and if they protest they're like "nah you'll like him I promise, just give him a minute" and her dads their old bot friend who went MIA (you can decide who the dad is, or go with Ironhide if you're as indeciceve as me lol)

I miiiiight just have to do this as a short story I hope that's okay! Got my Wrecker boys Wheeljack, Bulkhead, Smokescreen and Ultra Magnus.

Dust was still settling as you realized the threat was over, the collection of vehicons having scattered long before the cave had finished it's partial collapse and leaving you under the gathered team of bots who'd come together to shield you from falling debris. Rubbing off the powdered rocks covering your face, as well as coughing up the taste of dirt, you took a moment to gather yourself as your new giant allies did the same. It wasn't worth thinking about what would have happened if they hadn't come along when they had... In your defense, that ambush had come out of nowhere.

"You okay there?" A deep voice above you rumbled with concern, encouraging you to tilt your head upwards at the big green bot looking down at you. His optics were friendly, and despite his absolutely massive size and hands that transformed into wrecking balls, you immediately trusted him.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks to you guys." You said gratefully, looking to each of the gathered team as they brushed the dust off themselves.

"Protecting organic life is the primary responsibility of Autobots, think nothing of it." The largest of them said, somewhat gruff as he meticulously picked off the worst of the rubble that had showered down upon them. Immediately, you knew he was the one in charge. Towering above the others and with shoulder pauldrons thicker than two of you, he gave off the energy of someone who took no nonsense and had the firepower to back up his authority, yet his gaze was mostly just annoyed as he looked down to you again. "Our second responsibility, however, is remaining hidden from the denizens of this planet. Saving you required us to break cover."

"Give the kid a break, sir. They managed to escape a whole squadron by themselves before running into us. I think we can cut them some slack." A far gruffer voice said, cutting in as the battle scarred mech in question took a protective step your way. Quite immediately the colors on his unique build were familiar to you, but you decided to stay quiet on that fact, reaching for the cellphone thankfully still secure in your pocket. While you hadn't found what you'd been looking for in this mine, at least you had something far more interesting to report.

The big blue bot looked to the other with an impressive frown, unintentionally cementing your thesis as to the scarred mech's identity. The back and forth continued more or less without an acknowledgement of your presence. "They've been seen in our company, Wheeljack. By the procedure Optimus established, we must now secure their wellbeing, and that will be quite the undertaking."

The only one who had not yet spoken, a smaller but solidly built blue bot who seemed the youngest of the group, chose that moment to jump in with a quip. "Doubt docbot will be too happy about another human in the bunker."

"He's all talk. Ratchet wants these little guys as safe as the big guy does, he won't put up a fight." The gruff one, who you were starting to like more by the moment, said with an amused but reassuring smile in your direction. Unable to help smiling back, you suddenly felt that this turn of events might have been more than you could have ever hoped for. If only you could get a word in edgewise...

"You're purposefully missing the point, soldier. We-"

"If it's gonna be such a hassle for you, I'll take 'em myself."

"Jackie..." Once more, the gentle green giant spoke up, looking quite concerned at his friend's purposeful egging on of the bot in charge. You got the sense that this kind of thing happened often by his tone, but personally, you were getting a little tired of being ignored. None of what they were discussing was necessary, and if anyone would have bothered to ask you they'd know that? Finally fed up, you took a breath and raised your arms to draw attention to your tiny self.

"Um, hello? Excuse me!" You shouted, mercifully ending the bickering and securing four pairs of optics on yourself. Relieved for the silence, you pulled out your phone and held it up, projecting your voice to ensure you were heard. The shocked expressions didn't cease when you started to explain, but you didn't let that stop you. Sorting this out would make everything easier for everyone. "I think there's a bit more going on than any of you know. Let me call my dad really quick, he'll set this straight."

The first to reply was the one you knew had to be the rookie of the group, who awkwardly cleared his vents and broke the silence only hesitantly. "Uh, bringing more humans into this really isn't our goal-"

"Who said anything about him being human?" You cut in, grinning from ear to ear at the looks they all gave you. Now that you had their unbroken attention, it was only a matter of summoning your dad and waiting for him to arrive. Dialing his frequency into your phone, you prepared to share just as much information as it took to get him here fastest, wanting to see the look on his face when he arrived and saw who you'd found. This was going to be fun...

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

The roar of a familiar engine had thankfully silenced the second round of bickering to break out amongst the two argumentative bots, who had gone back and forth between listening to you and calling for their superior. It had been entertaining at first, but by the time that roar had echoed down the tunnel you'd been relieved to hear it, and had hopped to your feet from your seat on a convenient rock. The bots had reflexively drawn their weapons, but there hadn't even been any need for you to stop them. A worn red paint job skidding around the corner had made them all hold fire.

In a rush, you'd run out to greet the massive off road vehicle just as it began to transform, and in moments had been embracing the offered hand of a hulking bot who kneeled before you with an expression of happy relief.

"Ironhide!"

"Wheeljack!" Your adopted dad cried out in absolute joy, letting you move safely to the side before approaching the bot who's identity you'd properly guessed. Ironhide had told you so many stories about the Wrecker, it made sense that you'd been able to tell who he was by appearance and mannerisms despite having never met. The two bots greeted one another with an earth trembling chest bump, after which your beaming father turned to the green bot with just as much enthusiasm, shaking hands and crashing their fists together with overwhelming power. "Bulkhead too? Where have you guys been?"

"We might ask you the same thing, soldier." The big blue bot said, cutting in with the same serious look that appeared to be his only expression. On a closer inspection, however, you could see a certain light in his optics. He wasn't altogether displeased to see a new arrival. Standing somewhat awkwardly to the side, the young blue bot appeared delighted if not quite confused.

"Uh, long story, Ultra Magnus sir. I've been on this planet for some time. Found this little troublemaker when they were half their current size, and I've been raising 'em to help with our cause." Ironhide said affectionately, stepping back and dropping to one knee to be more on your level. Before you could puff up proudly at the praise, a single digit tussled your hair as he often did to tease, and you sputtered before playfully pushing him away and undoing the damage. Chuckling, he turned back to his comrades. "Never figured I'd bump into you all here! Jackie, Bulk, and uh..."

The attention turned to the young bot, who only smiled with a wave and a not offended clarification on his name.

"Smokescreen."

Wheeljack gave your dad a playful punch, still buzzing at seeing his old friend alive. The friendship you'd so frequently heard about was clear as day before you. "Glad to see you in one piece, old Rusthide."

"We've been here for years, Ironhide. How come we didn't detect you?" Bulkhead said, looking just as happy but burdened by the question at hand. Ironhide tapped his audial with a somewhat glum smile.

"Communicator's been busted for ages, all I've got is an earth link for cellphones." He said, recalling an injury he'd endured long before meeting you. The line he'd built relied on earth technology, and you still remembered how many tries it had taken to get it right. It was impossible to imagine a whole other team of beings like himself had been out there the whole time... Yet he didn't look at all regretful as he glanced down at you. "If I'd known I wasn't alone, I would have introduced myself and the kid ages ago. Looks like we've got my little one to thank for bringing us together."

You pouted and crossed your arms at the comment. "I'm not little anymore, dad."

"They did alright in a scrap, but how about we get you two back to base? I'm sure the other's will want to hear the story." Wheeljack said, easing your damaged pride with the compliment. You had indeed evaded those Vehicons for a good long while before being rescued... speaking of which, you could use a bit of rest somewhere secure.

Once more, Ultra Magnus stepped in to halt the festivities. "First; I shall communicate with Optimus and let him know what has transpired. He will likely want to meet you in person before we make any rash decisions."

"Seriously? Come on, Mags! Let's get this bot in an actual base!" Wheeljack replied in a huff, bringing back the arguing from before as if it had never stopped. Looking quite amused, Ironhide merely chuckled and offered you his hand, allowing you to get a lift onto his shoulders as was your custom. Clearly not phased by what he was seeing, the only parent you'd ever known let you get comfortable before following the group out of the partially collapsed cave. Who could have thought your simple little scouting mission would end like this?

"Come on kiddo." He said softly, watching the bickering with an expression of nostalgia. "I have a feeling things are about to get pretty interesting."

[rawliverandcigarettes]

Also, speaking of salarian planets : since Trigestis predicted a planet's existence and location mathematically when all the planets in the Pranas system in ME3 are close enough to be seen from Sur'Kesh (Halegeuse is closer to Pranas than Jupiter is to the Sun), do you have a headcanon to fix that ? Like, faulty interface in ME3, or something fancier, like Trigestis's planet being exploded during the Krogan Rebellions ? I hope I'm not being a bother.

Hello again! I'm sorry it took me AGES to get to it and I will, shamelessly, blame it on new job syndrome again.

So I kind of want to use this ask, if that's okay, to confess something slightly embarrassing coming from a narrative designer and someone who slugged through releasing a fic under the guise of "I want to get it right" for so many years: the more time goes by, the more I realize I am not as much of a lore nerd as I thought I was.

It's more complicated than that actually: I adore, ADORE lore that deepens art thematically. Whatever I can get that gives me insight on societies, culture or characters, even biology/geology **that adds an insight on theme**, love it. Can't get enough (ish when it comes to HH, because I'm actually a coward and I'll get to that).

But lore that exists to fill up Codex pages, lore that I sense have been written under pressure of deadline or does not intrisincally tells me more about why is this story told... It can tire me pretty easily. That's why I do not care, could not possibly care less about the obligatory million details about gun and weaponry in videogame codexes (not just ME), or the fetishism around military hierarchy breakdowns (unless it's used as a jumping point to explore character or world, but it's rarely the case and ends up being just weirdly reverent, nearly ritualistic --the attention given to these details does inform on themes, but way more on what has been prioritized than the actual details in these cases imho). It got way worse since I started doing the work myself; there's at once so many thoughts put on the details, and also so little in certain cases --you just gotta cram something and it's the compromise that you got at the eighth meeting on the matter, and it's kind of meaningless by that point and a weird middle ground nobody is truly happy with, but the deadline's looming and you have bigger fights to concentrate on so whatever, ship it I guess.

A lot of videogame lore gives me this sort of vibes now, and the planet descriptions of Mass Effect, while honestly pack-fulled with treasures of characterization that gives some underwhelming species more characterization that we ever got in the main missions, have probably been written either by a contractor with a tight deadline that proposed concepts fast and had to iterate on the rejects even faster, or by a core team member that did this on the side when no fire was currently roasting the game alive. It's speculation of course, but most of this "codex" game writing is very dense and high-input work that does not really allow for self-reflection or letting the content simmer and slowly shape sense out of itself. So while I love the details and some are so good, I have to admit I generally choose and pick from whatever speaks to me in this sort of descriptors, and it's been a hot while since I last cruised the galaxy searching for these treasures of worldbuilding. I should do it more! But it did slide down as a the bottom of priorities, just like this writing probably did in real life....

But to actually answer your ask instead of going on a weird tangent about game writing work: I'm gonna be honest, I completely forgot about that bit. I could make up an explanation on the spot, but the truth is: I was kind of waiting to get on The Empire of Preys to do a checkpoint on deep salarian lore (especially location related), and have it inform the detailing of the writing past the big lines --actual salarian culture shows up surprisingly little in Halfway Home given Shlee is completely allergic to his salarianness and runs away from it as fast as he can!!!!

Another embarassing confession that I took an even more embarassingly long time to work through: for the first years of working on the project, I felt very vulnerable and defensive about my interpretation of the story and themes, and I was terrified, absolutely terrified of illegitimacy. So confronting myself to lore again after my initial judgement/gut feeling, after all the emotional attachment I put into the story and all the deep meaning it took for me, was not an option I enjoyed at all, and I avoided everything Andromeda because I was so scared of what it could do to my fragile reasonning. Since then I decided I cared way less about doing a completely valid and diligent reading of micro-details of lore than to put my own spin on the universe, in conversation with it rather than restricted and bound by its, sometimes, arbitrary limitations. I still have to ploy around plot points (UGH Cerberus DLC *shakes fist*), but only if I can make it into a Point somehow (I think I did with the aforementioned after years of battling with it). But paradoxically, letting go of this insecurity (which is still in process of deconstruction, I am not completely above it yet) allowed me to rediscover hidden gems of lore, question my biases and interpretations, and helped me deepen my story. So I'm super glad you bring it up, I'll definitively look into it and see if I can twist this inconsistency into A Point or let it go!

I'm sorry I replied exactly 0% of what you asked, but I think the opportunity to go a lil' Author On Main (TM) was too good to pass. Sorryyyyy. ._.

[quinn-tessence]

Nocturne for a Clown

Part 3

Summary: you're tormented by the realization Arthur is the killer clown on the news, yet no bone in your body feels any different for him. Not even Casanova's advances could sway your from wanting to hold Arthur in your arms and alleviate his sorrow. He's had a bad day, and retreats on your couch, broken and confused.

Length: 5k words

Warnings: mentions of murder, lack of remorse, guilt and grief, seeking comfort where he'd never had it from. Smut with dear Arthur that could cause a rush of tremors, be warned. 🤭❤

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

You sat and watched. Then watched and watched some more. There were no words, no voice, no sound coming through your gaping mouth as the skin on your lips almost started to crack. It made sense. The blood, the bruise, the liberating sex, the wretched guilt. Oh God, what has he done?, you repeated in his voice over and over, that impossible puzzle putting itself together before you as you hid your gouging eyes underneath heavy, sweaty palms in a much too similar reflex to his own.

What has he done? He'd been beaten down surely, given his frail nature you could see how he'd be fluent in being at the receiving end, but as grievous as the thought was, it made it no less valid. This was bad, he’d land straight into Arkham if you picked up that phone to call the authorities, the way a considerate citizen would, as if Gotham deserved any at all. But you weren't one of them, were you? Never had you really fit in, yet you tried for the sake of appearances, it had become so burdening of late, only the thought of Arthur could provide the comfort you'd been seeking.

The news reports kept blaring, yet all your compassion overflowed for the clown, had you been able to see things objectively you'd still think he was hero. Three fewer assholes in Gotham, only a million more to go, you heard an inner voice say, even if you knew that was enough reason to throw you into the depths of Arkham Asylum. You'd sadly known that place from family, and you never wanted to set foot in that Tartarus again, but perhaps the apple didn't fall far from the tree. You couldn't stomach the thought of Arthur sitting opposite the glass wall from you, so dozed up on sedatives he'd hardly even recognize you. No, no, no. You wouldn't let that happen, and yet he'd need his own time and space to process.

You resisted the urge to bang on his door and ask for a full account, it felt as if you were a passenger on a derailing, speeding train. Regardless of how breathtaking the turquoise water under the rails, your gut wrenched at the thought of plunging into it head first. You were a decent swimmer, but you knew you’d be incapable of fighting those waters from swallowing you whole. You'd just given yourself to him, entirely and shamelessly, and regret was nowhere in sight. Had you been the forth prey of his killing spree, he would have killed you already. Yet he did the exact opposite, in distress and quivering like a leaf, but it was your door he opened after his rupture. He trusted you to keep this secret for him. And you welcomed the trust.

Within a few days you noticed you'd returned to your bad habit of unconscious nails biting. As if the deafening tumult between your temples wasn't enough, you also had to self flagellate as you desperately waited in silence.

You were busy enough at work, and the newest addition to your team had become daring enough to invade your private space little by little. Tall. Lean. Broad shouldered. Curly caramel hair and eyes of obsidian, winking at you shamelessly each time he passed by you. Patrick was a force in his field, yet he rolled his eyes and tongued his cheek whenever you'd call on him for a task, as if wanting to taunt you. Quite quirky and unprofessional, but restrictive enough to question yourself if you were merely projecting. Not once had he failed to deliver, on the contrary, yet that sly attitude never left him. Hm. The distraction was welcome, but it was nothing more. You'd catch yourself staring through him, picturing sparkling emeralds and cocoa, having to snap yourself back to reality before he'd think it was him you were aching for just like all your infatuated colleagues.

He must have checked with your giggly girlfriends before casually slipping in an invitation to your favorite bar after hours, casual drinks with a few colleagues, of course. Perhaps you should have politely declined, but you needed the respite from the heart wrenching torment, even if just for a few hours.

As empty as the venue was, he insisted on strolling in your visual field, intriguingly charming, maybe a bit too charismatic. It was time to maintain a level of dignity with your colleagues and remove yourself before getting into a state where you'd find yourself in Arthur's apartment, this time fully conscious. Yet Patrick gallantly offered to drive you over, posing a certain concern for your safety alone in the streets with a murdering clown on the loose. HA! You giggled at the joke being on him, silently talking to yourself. No thank you, you rascal, protection from that clown is the last thing I need. He insisted on paying for the taxi at least, and you’d had two drinks and wanted to be home already.

The thunderstorm washed the streets rapidly as you entered your building. You loved ravenous thunderstorms, especially as they traversed the sky over your cozy apartment bathed in lily scent. You took comfort in the hot shower and the chilly air in the room, lightning bolts clearing up the sky for a flash of a second as you wrapped yourself in the bathrobe, ready for Murray's dry humor.

Oh God! Your heart leapt to your throat as a soaked silhouette bathed your floors in cocoa flavor. At last.

‘Arthur! You scared me!’ he lay motionless, your words passing through him as if he wasn't even there. ‘Is everything ok?’

His damp fingers absently traced a faint line over the glass of your coffee table, his body slouched and stiff, the edges of his hair dripping on the couch.

‘I had a bad day.’

The words had come from a deep dark pit inside his chest, a wretched misery draped across his face as you kneeled next to him, cupping his cheeks. You'd ached to see his sparkling jades, yet you'd met them covered in a thick coat of tears, on the edge of dropping.

‘Arthur, what happened, sweetheart? Talk to me, please' He was so tired and withered, not even the wicked cackle would surface in this state.

‘I had a bad day…’

‘You said that, sweetheart, tell me what happened. Are you hurt?’

‘Kitten. I've done something… I…’ for seconds he tried to articulate, but the cackle fought its way up his throat.

‘Arthur shhhh. I know it was you. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I won't force you… I won’t judge you for it, I promise. Just sit with me for a second’ his head already leaning on your chest, your palm caressing his piercing bones, even through sets of clothes. He sat sedated, limbs heavy, flesh trembling, voice cackling in wrenching anguish for what felt like minutes on end.

‘You do?’ he asked between ruptures as if to steer his initial subject into whatever you'd conveniently brought up.

‘I do. I knew it the moment I heard the news after you stormed out. I saw the blood and the bruise on your face. You won't find any judgement here, I promise. I know you needed time to process, but you’re here now. Shhh' you almost cradled him in your arms, the most powerful instinct to protect him even from himself overbearing. He was all bone and sinew, like a hungry lone wolf, but there now was a sinister vibe to him.

‘Good. I'm glad you know. I lost my job that day, and then they attacked me in the subway, beating me to a pulp. Hm. Now you'll know that killing them hasn't bothered me at all. How's that for casual conversation?’

An unnerving tremor slid down your spine at the tone of his voice. You'd known him for a while, yet this resentful sneer was far from something you'd expect from timorous Arthur. Dreadful it's what it was, spine-tingling, intriguing, you were utterly mad to clasp this deranged man to your bosom when another prince charming just waited for one damn look from you. Who cared, you thought, Gotham’s gonna claim all of us sooner or later.

‘All I want is for you to be safe, Arthur. I won't tell anyone, but you need to be careful, sweetheart, you can't be saying things like those to anyone, please'

‘I have no one to tell, Y/N. And you’re not just anyone. You know. I’m still here, although you could have thrown me in police custody for the past few days.’ The cackles had given him a short respite, even if still lingering on the edge of bursting. He wheezed heavily before speaking. ‘My whole life I didn't even know if I really existed. And today, I feel… hollow…’

You'd asked and asked again as you touched his face and held it close to yours, his forehead as cold as the thunderstorm outside this comforting protective bubble.

‘My mother had a heart attack. She's in the hospital. Hah. My mother…’ a late instinct turned your skin to prickles hearing him speak from a different octave, a thick air of mustering resentment filling the room. ‘I had a few days to myself and I decided to deliver a letter to Thomas Wayne from her, seeing how he never bothered to write back. I'd told you she worked for him 30 years ago, and I read it although I shouldn’t have. I'd never known my father, but the letter said it was him. I confronted my mother and she told me everything about the two of them. But… instead of some warmth or a bit of decency, he told me my mother was insane and that I had been adopted. That and a punch to the face is what I got. Hm. Who am I, then? You tell me'

Your own eyes on the brink of overflowing, your soul coiled. You couldn't do much, but he needed comfort. Where would you even start, though? His tone of voice, the grief weighing him down, the droplets off his wet hair disintegrating whatever pieces were left of him, a question mark in stead of whomever he thought he'd been his whole life. Yet he didn't expect comfort. Such a foreign concept to him, as if reserved only to an elite he was not part of and would not dare intrude upon. You could easily hear how he'd just laugh it out into his pillow at night, his cries stifled, lacking a corner of privacy and personal intimacy where he could really build up that forced smile he'd put on every next day. You’d go utterly mad if you were in his shoes, no comfort and no expectation of it. So used to being overlooked, deep down he knew he was alone, and that filled him with fear and hopelessness. So you shushed and nuzzled him to your chest, hoping the warmth of your body would be soothing enough for the chaos that he was.

‘I don't know who I am, kitten. So I went down to Arkham and stole my mother's file just to find that he'd been right. The… horrors… she subjected me to as a child had gotten me locked up in Arkham years ago, but now I think I was just trying to hide from her, from this rotten city, from this world. I felt safe in that white room, ironically. When they released me, the heavy medication was supposed to make me feel better, instead it suffocated even my most basic impulses.’

Laughter ripped at his throat and pulled his face into a grimace, your palms clasping him so tightly you were afraid you might smother him. How much pain and grief could a man take, his poor soul must have been bound to an eternal rock, forever pecked by hungry vultures.

‘How can you even welcome me into your home if I don't even know that much? I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I should go, no need to burden you with any of this' he meant every word, as he kissed your hands with teary lips and dragged himself half upright.

‘Don't go' you close to begged. ‘Please stay.’

The grooves in his forehead you loved, just as the distinctive scar on his upper lip and the deep dark eye bags crowning his jades, his state of mind added another couple decades to his age. As you took him in through your pores, you remembered the shy clown peering through the shelves, and how the makeup would do the exact opposite of its intended purpose. Somehow he'd been unaware of how the makeup brightened his eyes to a clarity and sharpness you could cut yourself into. It was endearing how he'd stared at you when you'd first seen him wearing the costume, thinking he could hide under that mask when really it only brought him to life, his facial expressivity more riveting than ever. Yet he was here with you, more Carnival than Arthur even without the paint, as broken as a mirror in infinite shards.

‘Will you still have me here after this?’

‘I would. Please. I'm glad you came here after all this instead of going back home.’

The thought he'd ever been intimate with a woman before you had dissipated in an endless pool of murky turquoise, the genuine surprise in his eyes cutting you to your bone. There was no question, you knew.

‘Thank you, kitten. I'll stay, if you want me here'. There was no hiding anymore, you'd made it sparkling clear by being an accessory after the fact.

‘I do, Arthur, so much. I wanted you here… since you held that elevator for me, yet somehow we always missed our moment. No need to thank me…’

Had it not been for the roaring thunder, he'd probably hear your galloping heart, yet his composure betrayed just that acknowledgement. Every fiber in your body ached to touch his soul and mend it. The erotic tension you couldn't deny, but that wasn't anywhere near the reason why you'd willfully allowed yourself to become his accomplice. He sat back down, timidly reaching for your hand with his own smooth fingers, to place it on his cheek, now as warm as to ignite all the fires inside you with only one touch. Regardless of the endless torment of his life, it was so effortless to feel safe in his presence, even if he'd just killed three men in cold blood and joggled his life as he balanced on a thin string.

‘But I want to. Will you... let me thank you?’ his eyes had meekly turned to yours with a restless heeding for that glimpse of complicity you'd joined in a few times before.

‘If you insist, sweetheart, I guess you already did. You're welcome.’ And through that smile you could feel your body radiating as intensely as a candle flame in the dark. You’d tripped and fell into feelings for him, and nothing could brush them off.

‘No... I really want to thank you, kitten...’ Painfully slowly, he drew himself closer to you, a cocktail of demureness and ardor shaping his beautifully chiseled face into one that you'd missed your whole life, without even knowing. ‘I want to... put my mouth on you...’

Oh… He'd shown you a short, blissful glimpse of this other Arthur, the less tense, less uptight, more daring when he'd taken what you both wanted. There was always a limit to his courage, and yet he’d usually fall back into the timid, maiden like demeanor that he was. This felt different though, as there was a glimpse of unbridling in the way he inhaled, in the twitch of his contoured eyebrow, his whispering husky voice demanding consent. He needed this. Perhaps it would help deafen the torment for a quiet minute, and you were willing to let him try. Oh, who were you fooling, your heart had leapt at the thought of this since you saw him motionless on your couch, albeit in your mind the roles had been reversed. You'd bitten your lip instinctively, a most nonverbal cue of compliance to his plea, and within a short second he was tasting it, sucking it, biting it gently, as his nimble fingers strolled so tenderly through your hair to uncover your face, your eyes already deeply sunk behind fluttering eyelids.

‘I want to feel you shiver in my mouth' he whispered with a faltering voice, taking in all of your scent through avid nostrils. ‘You always smell so good, so clean… I want to taste you…'

So tender he was, you'd forgotten what it felt like to be wished for, body and soul alike, yet his palms willingly showed you a striking contrast to the tenacious Arthur who'd barged in days ago, as if your skin was porcelain and he wouldn't want to break you. He uncovered your naked skin underneath the fluffy bathrobe and smoothly tasted the growing prickles with curious fingertips, lowering himself towards your thighs at a painstakingly slow pace that would soon have you beg.

Pulling you to the edge of the couch where he’d slid himself, he finally broke the jarring tension of his eye contact just to move his head lower, descending decisively. The instant his curious lips parted, a shiver jolted through your flesh and your heart leapt into a marathon, you let yourself fall into his mouth without any control. How beautiful he was, you reminded him over and over as your fingers slicked his damp hair back, curling it around his ears, uncovering his furrowed forehead and perfect chiseled jawline. The sight of him between your thighs was no stranger, but you’d only seen it from afar until now, deep within the corner of each of your fantasies. Such a kind soul he was, but that mouth a wretched devil… oh my…

For a second he looked as if he'd forgotten all his sorrows as he strolled his tongue over your petals, tasting your skin one inch at a time, gently exploring to test your every reaction to his laps, his eyes fascinated with each of your whimpers. The throbbing love button he'd unveiled, a curiosity he had to touch with his tongue to feel the pulsation, your purrs a source of the validation in an endless sea of self doubt. Taking his time, curiously exploring this newfound medication for his sorrowful blues, he quickly grew hungry and greedy as an addict for a stronger fix, yet somewhat cautious to not overdose. His dilated basil eyes etched onto your contorted face, delighting in each tiny reaction he drew from you with his mouth, yet the catalyst to set you fully ablaze were his own moans as he enjoyed himself enjoying you. Oh God, what is he doing to me, I never want him to stop…

You’d thought you'd be the one comforting him, but it seemed as if he was doing it for both of you. His eyes moved around maniacally, taking in the shape of your naked breasts, of your nipples hardened at the thunderous air in the room, your moans guiding him into a delicate rhythm that could make you climb walls, even with the clumsiness that came with tasting a new person. He couldn't be a novice, although his curiosity was striking and enticing. Regardless of all that sorrow he'd brought with him, he curled a satisfied smirk under his scar and an impertinent twitch of his eyebrow sent you into a frenzy. His jades dilated at seeing your lips bitten, your eyebrows furrowed, close to crying in ecstasy, unable to move at the pleasure he gave and gave some more.

The mercury in your thermometer jumped at knot speed towards one big show of fireworks whose fuse got consumed by his kindling flame at a slow pace. Thoughts of his recent killing spree rushed through your mind, yet you were as high as a kite. You didn't care. So you let them ooze out to leave a hazy emptiness behind to be filled with all this spectacle of indulgence.

The pleas were whimpering whispers as you arched and etched your fingers in his smooth cocoa hair to anchor him, the other palm clenching a poor throw pillow to deformation. You hips guided by the rhythm of his palms on your waist, your moans deepening as he'd made you move onto his face, using it as a fine tuned instrument to orchestrate the crescendo of both your pleasure. Now that all your 8000 sensory nerve endings could light Gotham for Christmas if visible, his tongue flickered around your pearl, feeling the climax building up towards that overwhelming rapture. Moans turned to shrieks, toes and fingers clenched in reflex, his eyes and mouth on you as he winked from under long dark eyelashes. You combusted so powerfully into his mouth, within a few blissful seconds you'd left him glistening in traces of yourself.

Only as you quivered your last drop of pleasure in his mouth did you realize why he'd needed this so badly, he craved the validation of being a man even if his identity in shatters. It was one thing to have no identity, but another to not even be a man. Pleasuring you was one damn win that would hold his feet on the ground if he did it right, and that he could control. He had been scrutinizing you as you gasped for air, your eyebrows furrowed almost painfully, your flushed delicate muscles still throbbing under his tongue.

‘Oh, Arthur, that was… amazing…’

Still lingering his lips onto your inner thighs, he kissed tenderly as your flesh still twitched. You wanted him even more now than you did before. But tonight should be about him, even if he'd taken the lead so gracefully, so skillfully, so deliciously.

‘Yeah…’ the shyest smile draped across his tinted face, 'I felt that, kitten. I've… never really done this before…’ You'd known, deep down, and yet hearing him say the words was the most tender of piano nocturnes to your ears, so you latched at his mouth to taste him through your flavor, one that if you could bottle up, it would drive mankind rabid into destructive adoration.

Come here, Arthur, you whispered as you pulled him next to you, the puzzlement over his arching eyebrows an absolute delight you'd dreamt of relentlessly. He didn't fight it, yet the stiffness in his bones betrayed an urge he'd palmed away many nights without resolution, anxiety creeping over him at the realization it was now staring him in the face.

‘Wh… what are you doing?’, you shushed him as a response.

‘Kitten, please, don't feel like you need to give me anything back…’

‘Who said anything about giving back? I'm taking this for myself, Arthur. Let go, baby, let me take care of you'

‘Kitten… ohh' his eyes went straight to the back of his head, heavy eyelids covering his jades, his lips parted as your fingers traced the bulge straining his pants to suffocation. ‘Ok…’ he exhaled anxiously, a timidly bouncing knee betraying the rush of emotion flowing through him as you dragged his clothes over his head, his pants crowning the floor within a few seconds, leaving him naked to your hungry gazes.

The flickering light of the candles reflected over his protruding ribs as if a part of his body had caved in under the weight of his shoulders, his palms on your face strolling and tasting the reality of your flesh, he must have thought you were a side effect of his medication. Yet the prickling shivers traversing his body as you trailed your fingers over it were not. You reached for his lips as you lay him across the couch, your breasts invading his chest, the warmth of your body soothing his anxious trembling. That defeated look on his face, so vulnerable he'd made himself to you, he had nothing to give yet you still wanted him. He was mystified with even the remote possibility, let alone you giving him that adoration he'd chased endlessly, but never caught.

‘You are so beautiful, Arthur, let me show you, please…’ He was your paradise lost in the depravity of Gotham, a villain in itself, weighing down on each of its residents and having chosen Arthur to crush mercilessly under its own lack of a well defined identity, ready to teach us all lessons in humility that could lead to desperation.

He nodded shyly, his jades coated with an acute layer of yearning over something he'd never been given before. His body was a withered Stradivarius, abandoned in the corner of a cold, damp world, subjected to years of weathering and painful lack of any care, no wonder he was so feeble in between your fingers. But his strings were steel, and steel doesn't weather. It would naturally respond to external factors just like anything else but no amount of forcing, pushing, suppressing would bring out the brilliant austere sound it was designed to bring. Had he been less frail, you'd relate him to a cello, one that needs to be held tight to one's chest before playing it, where its resonating chamber rests upon the artist's heart as she moves the bow on the saddest of instruments. Yet he was so fragile, the wails of his chords almost bringing you to tears as you ghosted over them, testing what amount of pressure would bring the vibration, how to explore the potential of the sound and bring it closer to perfection. You were there to give him all that, to polish all the dust away, his wrinkles, his chiseled edges, to practice on his strings and validate his worth until he felt himself a Stradivarius for the first time in his life. He'd been blessed with a beautiful instrument that could bring such intense sensory bliss if only he'd find the right hands, and you longed to play him through the night, to tear your fingers into his chords and to sing his melancholy away.

What a trembling mess he'd become as soon as your lips strolled down his neck, the smell of rain and cigarettes off his skin intoxicating you into indelible addiction. The farthest you went, the more you saw how little he expected that you'd turn your full attention to him, as if never daring to expect anything other than what you'd allow him to take. You kissed your way down from his chest, palms exploring and fondling every bony texture, every inch of soft skin until reaching an extremity that felt to your fingertips as both together. Trembling, he slicked back his hair and sunk deeper into the couch, scrutinizing your face in detail and feeding you those micro expressions of Arthur and Carnival together, the twitch in his eyebrow a give away that you'd be playing for an audience of two tonight.

So immersed in the overflow of sensation he was as you took him into your mouth, his only verbal response a muffled ‘F-fuck, kitten', but his whole body screamed a different story of twitches at the touch of your tongue and lips. How demure the sounds he made as he shivered over and over, his eyes shut tightly, his mouth half open, heavy breaths raising his chest, quivering lips alternating silent approvals or four letter curses, as if careful to not be caught. So painfully expressive, all you wanted was to see him melt under your touches like silver over a burning flame without a hurry in the world, your tongue tracing a tale more evocative than any words could ever express.

With each stroke of your lips, he let go to all but that intense pleasure, as if your mouth held the power to oust the very fabric of reality, offering him an escape into a wonderland he'd been denied entrance all his life. He wants to be wanted, needs to he needed, lusts to be lusted for, his quivering lips more than enough validation for that thought. As you felt his muscles unwind, his fingers tremoring, his breath traversing his trembling body, you'd made him float in an isolation tank of indulgence. When you stopped, his voice would growl and whimper in reflex, the purring sounds begging for more. Some would call it schadenfreude, you called it your tiny overdose in hearing him say 'please' as you teased and inflamed him. His taste in your mouth, his smooth texture, his delicate skin, you wanted nothing more than to lock that door and trap him in this perpetual state of bliss. For eternity wouldn't be enough to put together all his broken pieces, but it would be a start.

The meekness in his jade eyes was wrenching, yet as he looked into yours, you quickly understood why. You couldn't hear his silent whispers, yet you knew he was begging for more as the throb in your mouth intensified and his whimpering green eyes slid to the back of his head, his palms clenching the couch so forcefully he could tear into it. It mattered no less as you felt him completely let go throb after throb, his body convulsing in spasms, the taste of him ambrosia hidden from all other mortals.

His head sunk deep in the couch pillow, his arms and body heavy and immobile, breath ragged, he giggled for the first time that day, a laugh so genuine it felt foreign to both of you, a rattled stranger you both wanted to welcome in and nurture back to his feet. As he lay sprawled on your couch, naked and ecstatic, you wished he was happy, for once. You needed a minute to freshen up, and as you returned to shut the windows and lay a blanket over him, he'd almost dozed off from exhaustion.

You sunk next to him as slick as a cat, laying him onto your chest and fondling your fingers in his damp cocoa hair, his limbs latching at you rendering you almost breathless with the radiating warmth of his body.

‘Kitten, I… I don't know how to thank you…’, he whispered in the nook of your neck, asleep had his flesh not sweetly twitched him back to a half awake state. ‘I've been off my medication for a few days, but I might have found an endless supply of pure morphine…’. His body had finally rested its convulsion, his limbs falling heavier, his breath slower, within a few seconds of his thought his eyes already moved spastically under heavy eyelids.

He was right, he'd found pure morphine, and so had you. It would consume you both, but him in your arms was that feeling humanity had sought since its birth. A once in a lifetime adventure they'd write sonnets about in the past, one that was yours to experience and live through with Arthur. That morphine had just kicked in for both, and you were floating on a cloud high above the thunder slowly roaring away in the night.

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

Thank you for reading this far! ❤

A special thanks to a few of the lovely people in this community that inspires me to keep putting my odes to Arthur on paper:

@wuika @iartsometimes @impulsiveclown @arthurflecc @littlebird92 @life-or-something-like-lt @jokers-puddin-pop @arthurfleckownsmysoul @jokersdoll @bananabreaddough @paperorigami @ransomguest49 @daydreamhustler @arthurjokersgirl @forever-fleck @sweet-nothings04 jokerlicious @ajokeformur-ray @shaw-2000 @jaraysha1121 @jofic059​ @shit-i-love-clowns

[malmuses]

Hello Mal, how are you doing? I hope things have gotten better for you on the real life side of things. I'm going through some rough times too, so at least the company is good! I wanted to start by saying that your fics have single handedly gotten me through the most turbulent transition period of my life. I'm almost completely finished with your works on AO3 and your storytelling... *many many many chef kisses*. You are easily one of my favorite writers. I love your writing style, ...1/2

...2/2 your characterization, and how well thought out each story is. Each fic is like a decadent treat for my brain. I was curious, as a fellow writer, what your writing process is like. I've tried a few different methods but was wondering what works best for you! I hope the rest of your 2020 is full of peace and love. Also, I apologize in advance for the spam of comments you are about to receive on AO3. I finally have enough spoons for it!

I’m pasting these into one so I can put the answer in one place! (Tumblr is so awkward sometimes.) Sorry to hear you’ve been going through rough times too! There’s a lot of it going around this year, so I think we have plenty of company. In fact, I think the whole world just needs to lower its expectations and standards this year. Woke up? There’s the first gold star of the day. It's only up from here. I’m so glad that you’ve been enjoying my stories and so flattered that you say they’ve helped you so much...*insert feelings gif* I always tell myself when I write something: It’s okay if not everyone likes it. It’s okay if some people hate it. Nothing is for everyone. I just want one person to *love it*. Then I’m totally at peace. Now, if that person is just me? If I’m the only one that loves it? That’s also cool. Each story comes from a different place. My long-winded point, though, was that you basically just validated the existence of my entire catalog of fics so far, so thank you xD Your question about my writing process though - I’m happy to answer. But of course, first, I have to insert the usual disclaimer that as with most creative endeavors, there is no ‘right’ way to do it. I’m sure you know that, but sometimes I think people underestimate the depth of that truth. Each person has their own unique way of doing things. The struggle is sometimes finding the particular way, or combination of ways, that work for you. There’s definitely no harm in sharing what works for me though, in case anyone else can take anything from it. I’m someone who writes multiple things at once. Some people can’t do this or don’t want to, which I totally understand. For me, this is how I (mostly) avoid any kind of writers' block. If I’m stuck somewhere, I switch projects for a day or two. I do usually still have one main project I’m working on, but I usually have at least three others, often at various stages of the writing process. This keeps me in more of a flow state so I keep going with things, and allows me to write every day. It’s a habit. Now, I’m not saying breaks are bad, and everyone should write every day. I just find that for me, breaks should be deliberate. They should be true, chosen breaks, not because I just...drifted into one.

As you can probably tell from all that, I’m very much a planner and outliner. I outline...a lot. I’d be happy to talk more about my particular outlining process on Tumblr someday if anyone wanted. But, basically, I start with a general idea, then break it down into different story beats, so I can see if there’s something missing or too much of one thing. Then I fill in the gaps, then start breaking each overall ‘part’ of the plot into scenes, etc. Chapters come last. In terms of numbers (I get asked this one a lot), it does not matter how long your chapters are. What matters is that the chapter length feels right for the pacing of the fic, in my opinion, and I really think that is something that just comes with practice and knowing your own writing. Shitty advice maybe, but just the truth as I see it. A lot of it comes down to practice and finding what works for you.

Once I have an outline, I generally write linearly. Some people can jump around a lot. That’s a bit of a last resort for me if I’m stuck on something, or alternately if a scene steams into my head fully formed I will write it...with the understanding that I will probably have to change chunks of it when I reach it. It’s just the way it goes.

Now, when I say I outline in detail (there are literal spreadsheets)  that doesn’t mean that I magically only write exactly what’s in the outline and I stick to it. An outline can be a guide, not a rule. Sometimes stories take you places, and generally, I find it's better to listen to what the story wants. If my story starts going somewhere else or introduces something I don’t expect, I often revisit my outline and think, “Okay, how can I work in this new thing so that it follows the plotlines and arcs I already have? Am I adding to what I have or just distracting from it?” Most often those answers are obvious to me, but sometimes it’s good to ask someone else. A friend, a trusted beta. (I could talk a whole lot about betas and how that works for me, too, in addition to outlining).

I pretty much zero draft my fics. By that, I mean that I will start writing, and I won’t go back and do very much editing until the end. I will, each writing session, go back and read what I wrote the day before. Get into the zone. And sure, I’ll fix something if it jumps out at me - but that isn’t the purpose at that point, and most things won’t jump out, because it's too fresh. My brain knows what I meant, so it autocorrects for me. 

Leading into editing, it’s a two-step process for me. Once my zero draft is finished, I go back to the beginning and go through. This is where most of my developmental editing happens. (Another thing that probably needs more detail...different types of editing.) Once I’ve done that (usually during that pass, I’ve added words) I then put the fic aside. For as long as possible. At least a month, if I can swing that. (Bang deadlines sometimes cause issues if it's a fic for a bang, but I try). 

Once that time has passed, I can come back to it with fresh eyes. I’ll see the mistakes much more easily, then. This is where more intensive line edits happen, where SPAG happens, where I insert anything I made note of during my first pass if I needed to foreshadow anything more, that kind of thing. 

For a WIP, I do these edits chapter by chapter as it posts. For a Bang fic, obvious I have to do it all in one go. Due to the way I write, if you see me start posting a fic -- that fic is already finished, or in rarer instances (for work that was more time-sensitive) partway through the second draft or so. Oneshots are a little different (and I’ve had some oneshots that turned into chaptered fics of their own accord) in that they are just shorter and less intensive and often only have one main plot thread, so they’re a lot easier to do. I can get one drafted, edited and posted within a few days usually, depending on length.

How much do I write? Depends on the day. I have a high-stress finance job, two kids, and write a mixture of original fiction and fanfic stuff. So sometimes it's more than others. Bad day? Maybe 1,000 words. Good, average day? 3-6k. High pressure? Well, last year's DCBB I wrote in just under three days. It was 25k at that point. I have no tips for speed beyond learning to type fast, LOL!

Okay. I’ve probably bored you, and anyone else who had to scroll past all this, to tears. This is way too long. But even so, more specific questions, I’m happy to answer.

Good luck! Best advice? Just write. Write. Write. "Write a million words, then throw them away” is a changeable quote attributed to several authors but all it comes down to is...practice. Find your own vice and way of doing it. In a million words time, you will be a different writer than you are now, guaranteed.

Mal <3

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Ok so first of all, idk what those anons are saying, but I think you're not just a fantastic writer, but you're also an incredible person in general! I'm so glad you're able to look past those cruel words and know your worth. By refusing to respond, you have taken away all of their power and I commend you for it.

Now that I've got that off my chest, I can get back to our convo. 😊

I'm just saying, it was like, 3 weeks instead of a month. You gotta give me credit for that. 😄 But yeah, life's a little crazy for us all sometimes and it just happened to be my turn.

120 Euros is insane! And some of them are more!? Here I just have to sign up on a website and pick a time. I had to drive an hour to get one the day of once, but it was worth it. I can only imagine how tough that would be. I would be so nervous if I got sick. I actually haven't caught a cold this year which I'm not sure how that's possible because I'm usually sick a lot and I'm super thankful.

Wait... You're telling me I actually have to take the advice I give? 😅 Lol, so I've started writing my response about 4 times now (I'm easily distracted) but it's been kind of nice because I drink water every time just to be able to say I did.

I haven't heard of that author before! I'll have to put them on my never ending reading list.

Omg, I am absolutely dying at how into this search you are. Don't think I didn't see your bio. 😂 I love how Tumblr is in on it too. Why yes Gina. Tis me, your subconscious. 🤣🤣🤣

Except for I actually am giving you clues, they're just super subtle and you've gotta read between the lines. If you look closely, I've actually answered both of those questions. 😉 (If you still can't figure it out I'll answer them but I wanna see if you can tell by looking at my previous messages)

Also, I think it's only fair that if we're talking about me, I wanna learn more about you too! What's your favorite movie?

Omg you got me! I'm definitely E.T. How'd you guess!? -⭐

P.S. One of these days I'm gonna trip up and forget to flip the anon switch so you'll certainly figure it out one way or another. 😉

My little star is back 💖!!

Awww, the amount of love I have for you is overwhelming and I don’t even know who you are. 🥺 Don’t you worry, I don’t let people bring me down, I’m way too proud for that. 😂 And I completely get that people’s life turn chaotic so I’m just glad you are back. 💖

Pounds, not euros, but yes, it’s not cheap. 😁 Healthcare in the UK is free, but the prescriptions and this particular test aren’t. It’s not that bad if you think about the fact that you don’t have to pay for further treatment because it’s free. What do you mean you are usually sick a lot? You mean catching a cold and stuff, not more serious kind, right?

Wait... You're telling me I actually have to take the advice I give?

That loud snort I let out when I read that. 😂 No, you don’t have to take them, they are just hanging in the air for the fun of it. 😂 I’m glad you are drinking enough in the end, my slippers are always ready to teach you a lesson. 😁

I really was hoping you would see my bio! I really am invested in this quest of finding out who you are and tumblr doesn’t seem to want to help! 🤣 I have a confession to make. I even have a post in my drafts which I planned to post if you haven’t showed up soon. Here is a screenshot of the title 😂

Also it’s 4am here and I’m reading through all of our conversations from the very beginning when you messaged me about Shadowhunters. You are a bad influence, but let’s get started, because no, I don’t want to talk about me, I am ready to find out who you are! 😂

It will be long, so click on that keep reading button if it shows up. Sometimes it doesn’t 😂

What I know about you so far; Shadowhunters edition

You like Clary because she has flaws.

In your opinion Simon is the best character.

Book!Alec is your least favourite character.

You think Jonathan and Valentine were ok villains, but not the best.

You are a sucker for Jace.

Izzy is also one of your other favourites and you hate the Yin fen plot mostly because it led to Rizzy and a toxic relationship.

You also love Max and we agreed that COG is taboo and we preferred the series version.

What I know about you so far; Personal edition

You are adorable

You are mysterious

You are sweet - and now let’s get started 💖😂

6 days ago you wrote; the new semester has started

You are hoping you'll be able to read and interact a little more

You love my nickname for you 🙈💖

You only kind of take care of yourself; Let me get my slipper! 😅

You are on a campus where people make food for you when you actually get your backside out of the room 😂

You are doing a research project on landing mechanics in a specific sport; This is where I thought I knew who you were. Then you destroyed it by saying; You are majoring in science and you like testing and analyzation 🙈 

You are considering a career in research one day which will be beneficial for your grad school application; This is where you got me confused. 😅 If you are to apply to grad school, that means you are doing your undergraduate degree now, which means you are supposed to be over 18 😂 But here we just call it University so I’m not 100% sure about what grad school is 😂Or are you in college which could be from the age of 16 and that’s before grad school too 😅

You have to get tested constantly at your school 

You have never seen Ben Barnes in anything and we haven’t talked about him until now

You got 2 assignments in one class 😂

You take long to decide what to read, as in physical books so you end up reading fanfic instead!

You feel like a spy as my anon 🤣

You are not an AI, but you are an Alien, ET to be exact 😅 and you are building a rocket ship to fly back to your planet

You keep sending me to drink water, but you don’t take your advice!!!

We talked a few times in different places; How is that a clue?! 😂

You get easily distracted 

You get sick a lot; I don’t like the sound of that!

You never heard of J.R. Ward

So in conclusion, 

Do I follow you? Haven’t found the answer to that, but since you said we have talked here and there, I assume I do.

Are you a minor or over 18+? If my assumptions about grad schools are correct then you are doing your undergrads now so yes, 18+.

Did I get any closer to who you are? No! 

Why? Because this “I’m majoring in science” threw me off completely 🙈 My one solid lead disappeared into thin air... bye bye Sherlock Holmes, welcome Dumb and Dumber 😅

Did I just spend 1 hour replying to this, searching for all the clues and now I’m going to bed at 5am just because I’m so determined in my quest? You bet, I did 🤣 

Also from the way you talk/write, I get US vibes. Probably I’m incorrect but oh well 😅

Now can you please give me a solid clue? I’m begging you! 🤣💖 Maybe the first letter of your first name or your exact age, maybe a birthday so I can completely ignore that one clue in my head? Doesn’t matter which one, but at least one, pretty please 😁