#i'm still trying to rediscover my writing groove

[vernblr]

Summer Nights

Summary: Summer was the perfect time to fulfill all the plans you didn't have time for, but everything's come to a halt after a nasty fight with Vernon. The dust has settled now, any lingering emotions put to rest, and now it's time to figure out how to move on together.

WC: 1.5k

Established relationship, mentions of a fight but nothing specific, light hurt and comfort

A/N: This is a short exercise in writing to get back into the groove of writing more! I'm still working on my other projects, but I thought it would be nice to post a little idea I was suddenly inspired to write. This is inspired by Summer Nights by Siames and I want to thank @himbocoups for both beta reading and giving me so many kind comments!!

It was hot, boring, and you were lonely. All you could do was stare blankly at the ceiling, feeling the barest brush of cool air against you from a nearby fan. The warm summer air pressed down on you, stifling you and your already dismal mood. You had so many things planned for the summer, and yet all the wind had been knocked out of you the moment you had a fight with Vernon. It wasn’t in the nature of either of you to raise your voices or to be so set in your ways, yet it happened anyways. The anger you felt was so unlike you, almost as if you were possessed by some outside force and you hated it. The aftermath scared you and shook you to your very core, and it was this fear that kept you from trying to reach out to him. In the silence that ensued, time seemed to lose all meaning. The days stretched by without a word exchanged between you, and two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye. You curled up on your bed, huddling in front of the fan as you thought about it. You definitely said things you didn’t mean to, things you regretted and you wondered if he felt the same way. Any leftover anger you felt towards him fizzled out as soon as you left his house, and in the days after the fight you realized how much you missed him when he wasn’t around. He wasn’t just a significant other to you, he was your friend. And the prospect of losing both at the same time daunted you.

Your phone buzzed beside you with a new text, one you would’ve ignored if it weren’t for the name attached to it. You shot upright in bed, hunching over your phone as you stared at the message. It was characteristically plain and straightforward, and you missed its familiarity so much it made you regret every time you’ve ever made fun of Vernon for his blunt texting style. A simple ‘Do you want to go for a drive?’ stared up at you from the glass screen, and you smiled to yourself despite your previous foul mood. Ever since both of you got your licenses, even before you became a couple, you’d both spend your summers wandering around to your hearts’ content. You’d discovered new places, rediscovered old ones, and bonded in a way you don’t think you ever could with your other friends. You didn't need to look up from your phone to know that Vernon was outside already, the expectation of a 'yes' baked into the very core of your shared tradition. No matter if it was you or him that sent the text, you'd always be outside each other's houses waiting to go. Looking out the window, you saw him lean against the side of his car, making his simple t-shirt and jeans combo look unfairly attractive. He had been looking at your window the whole time, but he shot you a wink at the sight of you. You snorted and walked away to get ready, it was the dorkiest move he could ever pull, but you didn't love him for being cool. No, you loved him for his weird clothes, endless love of movies, and the chaotic way he would fall over laughing and hit everything on his way down. And you missed it, and him. You couldn't even lie to yourself about it if you tried.

Walking out of your house, you hesitantly approached him. He looked the same as always, but you knew he couldn’t have been after what happened. The cautious way he held out his arms for a hug and the slight wariness in his eye told you everything you needed to know. You sunk into his arms with a sigh as he leaned back against his car. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and you felt him release his own too.

“I missed you.” You mumbled, your words muffled by the cloth of his shirt. 

His grip on you tightened ever so slightly. “I missed you too.” 

Neither of you moved, even as the afternoon bled into evening and the sun’s warmth seemed to sear you. But when you finally untangled yourself from him and looked Vernon in the eyes, a deep fondness had replaced the wariness you saw earlier, and you knew it would be okay. You just had to get there together. Getting into the passenger seat of his car, you could only watch him with fondness of your own as you dived into the deep golden sunlight. Even as you both rolled down the windows and sang songs at the top of your lungs, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you both needed to talk about what happened. 

Just as the afternoon has bled into the evening, so did the evening into the night. The roads began to blur together as less and less people passed you by, and you wondered where exactly you were going. It wasn’t until you pulled up to a specific roadside with an equally specific hill in the distance that you realized where you were. Only the light from the car’s headlights lit up your surroundings once you got out of the car, the moon far above serving as the only other source of light. Now you realize why you had to drive so far, the stars blinked down at you in a way that they never could in the city. An awestruck smile spread across your face, and Vernon only smiled at you as he pulled out a familiar blanket out of the trunk of his car. On the occasions where your meandering drives had taken you out and away from the city, you’ve taken the chance to stargaze on a comfy blanket and make up stories with Vernon about the shapes and patterns you’d seen in the sky. Those memories were as woven into it as the threads themselves, and as he passes it to you you hope that its comfort would be enough to get you through this. 

It didn’t stop you from fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as you set it down though, but as you sat on the hilltop across from Vernon you knew it would be now or never.

“Can we talk-”

“Can I ask about-”

You both blinked at each other in surprise, almost identical statements coming out of your mouths at the same time. You start laughing at the coincidence and soon he joins you, and you’re both flopped down on the blanket with tears in your eyes trying to catch your breaths. You felt so cliche for even trying to bring it up this way, but apparently Vernon had the same idea too so maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought it was. 

You let out a long sigh as you regain your breath, sitting up again as you hug your knees to your chest. Vernon sits up too, and you lean against each other as you watch the sky. 

“Laughs aside, I really do think we need to talk about this.” You murmur, unable to meet his eye just yet. “I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you, and I said some really hurtful things in the heat of the moment that I don’t mean at all. No amount of stress or anxiety should have made me say what I did, and I can’t take it back because I’ve gone and done it anyways. I don’t exactly expect you to forgive me just yet, if at all, but I just want you to know how much I care about you. You mean so much to me, and I don’t want to think of a life without you in it in some way.”

Vernon lifts his head from your shoulder and turns to you, placing his hand on yours. “Neither of us are the kind of people to say what we did, but I’m at fault as much as you are. You said some awful things and they really did hurt, but I did the same to you too. And I’m sorry for it too. I already forgave you the moment you left, I hope you know that. I wanted to see if you would just get up and go immediately, but you didn’t. I watched you sit in your car in my driveway and stare blankly at the sky while trying not to cry, and in that moment I knew you regretted it as much as I did. I hate this, you know? The silence, the separation, the fear of losing someone we care so deeply about. Disagreement is inevitable, but I just want this to work for us. I never want to fight like that again.”

You take the hand that was beneath his, lacing your fingers together and squeeze his hand tightly before standing up and pulling him up with you. You hug him again, more tightly than you did when you first saw him again, and Vernon hugs you back just as tightly.

“Thank you, for everything.” You warble through barely contained tears. “For being so understanding, for seeing me when I thought no one else did, for being by my side. I hope we get to stay by each other’s sides for as long as we can.”

“I hope so too, and I want to hold onto what we have until I can’t anymore. Thank you for being with me too.”

Vernon gently pulls you back down to the blanket, lying on your backs as you face up towards the stars again. Tangled together as one, you immerse yourselves in the summer night. 

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

digging through my many unfinished snippets of ofmd fics that i wrote between s1 and s2, and i thought this one was pretty diverting, so i'm posting it here! why not!

this was going to be the beginning of one where stede and ed are cursed by super awkwardness after reconciling ... until they get THE MOST DANGEROUS GAMED together by antoinette (who survived the boat fire but tragically lost her brother-husband) and her boy toy lackeys bret and jemaine, and rediscover their groove in the process!!!! i honestly might still write some version of this because i need mel antoinette and bret and jemaine to most dangerous game ed and stede and the crew. i simply need it like oxygen.

(i do really love that stede genuinely forgave ed for destroying all his stuff and didn't care about it in season two, for the record. but this was pre-season two me wondering, what if he couldn't help but be a little grumpy about it?)

***

(this was going to be a sequel to this fic for convenience's sake, ergo the references to the party etc.!)

***

“So this is it,” Stede murmurs to himself, gazing out to sea. “Happily ever after.”

Ed’s back, and Ed again. They defeated Izzy in a spectacular show of swordplay and now that miserable prat’s rowed off alone in a dinghy, hopefully in a way that will stick this time. The Revenge is Stede’s again, and the full crew has returned home to it.

It doesn’t get much more happily ever after than this.

Which has Stede wondering why life currently feels so awfully awkward.

+++

“Take it,” says Stede, when his and Ed’s fingers brush both reaching for the last piece of toast at breakfast.

“Ah, no, I couldn’t,” says Ed, pulling back like Stede’s fingers are on fire.

“Please!” says Stede. “I’m your host.”

“Yeah, but I stole your ship and took it on a joyride of destruction for a few weeks there and threw all your stuff in the sea,” says Ed, “so in a way, I’m your host.”

“Truly,” says Stede, sipping his tea from a rusting tin cup, “I had completely forgotten about that.”

“Had you?”

“Haven’t given it a moment’s thought in days. Let bygones be bygones, that’s what I say! Please. Help yourself.”

“You always like three pieces, though,” says Ed. “I don’t want to mess up your whole breakfast vibe–”

“JUST TAKE IT,” Stede snaps.

“Right. Sweet as.” Ed somehow, quite incredibly, shoves the entire piece of toast in his mouth at once. “Mmmphfff,” he says through chewing. “Scrumptious.”

“Is it?” says Stede, in careful gentlemanly tones. “I’m so glad.”

They smile placidly at each other.

+++

For the record, they haven’t kissed a second time yet. Or touched much at all, save for patching up each other’s wounds scored in the fight with Izzy. The fingers brushing over the toast is about as hot as the action has gotten. They have all the time in the world, Stede reminds himself, rather a lot, as his psyche unravels faster than a shoddily made scarf.

+++

The crew has one request of Stede, and it’s that Ed stay locked up in the captain’s cabin for a while.

“But he’s perfectly normal again!” Stede protests. “That whole descent-into-darkness snafu, we’ve worked through that.”

“He seems perfectly normal again,” Lucius allows. “But maybe you shouldn’t be the authority on this, as you’re the only one he didn’t try to kill.”

“And me,” Frenchie pipes up.

“And me,” Jim admits.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the hot ones psycho Blackbeard wanted for his cool new crew,” Pete says bitterly. “You can stop reminding us about it already.”

“What?” Stede exclaims, indignant. “He tried to kill me loads of times!”

“He swordfought you once, locked you in a closet, and then took you on a date to a party,” Lucius says.

“And he could’ve tried to kill me at any time during that party,” says Stede, “let me tell you.”

“Did he?” Lucius asks, hands on hips.

“No,” Stede admits reluctantly. “He played pirates with my son, and then instead of making me go back to the ship with him, he released me as his prisoner.”

Everyone groans.

“That’s the point, Captain,” says Lucius. “You’re his weak spot. That doesn’t mean he’s not going to start feeling stabby around the rest of us.”

“He’s not! He’s really mellowed.”

“Then let’s prove it, yeah?” says Oluwande, taking over so Lucius can really commit himself to judgmental faces. “Just keep him isolated for a bit, so we can make sure he’s not a threat to us.”

“I don’t care if he is,” says Buttons. “Let me at ‘im. I’ll chomp one of those pretty cheeks at the slightest prevarication.”

“No!” Stede says.

“Is that code fer yes?”

“No, that’s no! Buttons, I mean it. He’s got a very good face, and we’re going to keep it just the way it is.”

“Ah, fine,” says Buttons, deflating. Wee John pats him on the shoulder.

Stede takes this as the end of the conversation, and walks away. He pauses once he’s out of sight and listens.

“Do you really think Blackbeard’s going to snap again?” Olu asks.

“Probably not,” says Lucius, “but those two have got to fuck soon or the energy on this ship will never recover.”

Everyone murmurs in agreement.

Stede frowns.

+++

“Oh, sure,” says Ed. “Absolutely. I’d love to be your prisoner.”

“I know it might sound insulting–”

“Nah, just sensible. I really went off the deep end for a while there. I mean, I left most of those guys to die on a tiny island.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“I’d hate to be in your way, though.”

Stede gives him a stiff grin. He’s starting to worry his face might get stuck this way. “Oh, no. You couldn’t be.”

Ed grimaces politely back.

+++

Becoming a better person always sounds so clear in theory: as if it’s some new stage of existence you step into, like death, and never come back from.

Logically, Stede doesn’t mind that all his beloved things are gone, that his library has been wasted (unless there are some really bookish mermaids out there). What are things, really, compared to people? Not so much.

But not nothing, either, the small niggling voice in his head starts to say as the days go on.

+++

[After somehow finding themselves overboard and having to swim to the nearest island! Unsurprisingly, I skipped writing the complicated action sequence!]

“Oh my God, we’ve done it,” Stede pants when they finally reach the shore. “We’re alive!”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Ed asks.

“Quite a bit, yeah,” Stede can’t help admitting.

Ed groans. “Yeah, definitely. I’m really out of shape, man.”

“Maybe we should work some daily calisthenics into the schedule. If we make it out of here, that is.”

“I’m down for that.”

“Where are we?”

They take a moment to survey the beach. The narrow shoreline is quickly gobbled up into dense jungle.

But then, in the distance:

“Lights!” Stede yells, pointing.

+

“Well, this is a charming set-up, isn’t it??” Stede exclaims as they take in the sight of the sparkling chateau. 

Ed whistles. “Wouldn’t mind retiring here, putting my feet up.”

“It’s probably dangerous,” Stede adds, a tad reluctantly.

“Oh yeah. Nobody lives on their own island because they’re so great with people.”

“But all the same, there’s probably food in there. And beds.”

“We’re pirates,” Ed reminds him. “We can hold our own, can’t we?”

“Yeah! This weird freak with an island should be afraid of us!”

“That’s the spirit,” says Ed, knocking his knuckles against Stede’s.

In spite of all the recent nearly dying, Stede feels a surge of sudden bliss. They smile at each other–

And then the gigantic door swings open.

“Why, hello there!” says Stede brightly, going into good manners mode. “We’re two weary, lost travelers who happened across your lovely island–”

He realizes there’s no one there.

“Okay, I don’t like that a bit,” he declares, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s not promising,” Ed agrees grimly.

They step inside and are immediately met by a blazing chandelier in the foyer and the sound of a harpsichord being played in a distant room. The house is full of beautiful things; artwork on the walls, vases on tables. Stede feels suddenly, pleasantly dizzy.

“Oh, my,” he breathes.

“Pretty legit,” Ed declares.

“Why, if it eesn’t Sir Godfrey Thornrose and Jeff,” comes a woman’s voice, with a woman’s familiar obnoxiously fancy accent.

“Oh, God,” Stede mutters, dread filling him.

“Passive aggression,” Ed whispers.

And sure enough – even though the last time they saw her, it was on a ship that was swiftly burning to ash – standing there, looking as sparkly and unpleasant as before, is Antoinette.

+++

(dun dun DUNNNN!)

[smolwritingchick]

Hi Val ! just a little note to thank you for creating Nini because it's super rare to have a black oc with a lot of updates so I hope you will continue like that🫶🏼I've been following you since before you deleted your account🫡 so when I saw that you had taken it back I was super happy ✨️ I just wanted to know if you knew when you were going to post or if you had to rewrite everything. big kisses to you and Nini 🫶🏼

Hi Angie!!! Omggg you are sooo sweet! Thank you thank you thank youuuu! I appreciate you sticking with me after all this time! I still get shooked when readers tell me they've been here before I deleted everything. I should also apologize to you and the old readers. I deleted everything abruptly with no explanation and I never realized just how happy my writing made so many people until I started getting messages on my personal Tumblr blog. And I'm like damn.

What made me start writing again and reposting my work was when I got a text message late last year from one of my elementary school mentors. I've kept in touch with her ever since and she had asked me if I was still writing. That question lit the fire again. I've been asked that question by so many people but when it came from her, something just sparked in me and I said to myself, "I fucking miss this shit. Let me start over,"

So, I set everything up. It's pretty cool to start back from the bottom and get rediscovered. I call myself a beautiful accident when people come across my stuff. I'm satisfied with reposting my work and being a smol part of the Black K-Pop community. I've become more of a casual fan of BTS and I don't follow too much K-Pop like I used to. I surely missed A LOT but it's exciting to watch and read over the things I missed in BTS from late 2020 to now.

I chose to finally write on Wattpad, too. I never used the site like that but I was like, I'm older now, let me at least try to write on it and I fell in love with it. I found the PDF of Bangtan Gal and then I began to reread and edit each chapter. Although lots of gifs and photos aren't there like before, I would rather have all the chapters I wrote for the story be here over some replaceable gifs and photos.

I rewrote a lot of things. Like the dialogue to make sure it would say "Jennie said" instead of "Says" and as I would reread certain chapters new ideas would come about and I would add to it which helped me get my groove back. A good example is the War of Hormone chapter when I thought of even more ideas of Jungkook helping Jennie get used to being in the presence of his stage persona when they perform together for the song. When he grabbed her back and asked her "Where you going?" when she started backing away was in the heat of the moment and I thought it was funny and pretty cute. And then him saying to himself that he hoped to be her boyfriend in his head at the end was another last minute idea when editing.

2+ years of writing the chapters and now I am back to where I stopped writing. It's surreal continuing the story. I hope you all bear with me for the slow updates. I missed how frequently I'd post the already prewritten/edited chapters lol. I was so excited to post this story again.

But anyway, I appreciate you all for taking the time to check out my creativity. I'll continue to work hard! :)

[odybee]

Just rediscovered all the chapters I had drafted for Piper's story, and I'm more than a little surprised that I wrote all this. Definitely mean that in a good way, though. I'm going to try to write some smaller 'episodes' to get back in the writing groove. I still have that OMORI oneshot draft as well, but I figure that it'd make more sense to post Piper's official story before I go inserting her into other pieces of media that I like.

This was all spurred on by me finally making ref sheets for both Piper and Alec. I just need to make them profile pictures for Art Fight (as I hope to make an Art Fight account this year even if I don't have time to participate in the main event), then I'll post them both here and there. I may make ref sheets for other characters in Piper's story before those two are posted, but I'm not sure.

Side note, the Wattpad link in my masterpost doesn't seem to work if you are trying to click it in mobile Tumblr for some strange reason. If you would like to see my Wattpad but don't want to use your computer to use the link, my name there is @odybeewrites. I will update my master post with this information in a moment.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary323

8/7-8/24

wednesday - thursday

normal day inside.

i started the day with an abstract nightmare with eminem in it... and then there was this other dream about raising worms, and my aunt hating them. i can't really even begin to describe either, the eminem one especially, it repeated one time after, that dream included me writing what eminem had rapped, and then it ended the same, with like, this screamer of a demonic eminem appearing, but it was like actually scary, somehow, at least to my body, it shocked me awake. i really cannot express what these dreams felt like, what they looked like, they were like, paper mache or early flash, some point between those, just of totally flimsy, unconvincing material, and still i believed, because the threat seemed real.

the other dream is much harder to describe, it involved going to the movies, the movie being like a game i was playing... and these worms, the kind who shoot their insides out all over what they're trying to eat, and then sort of digesting it like that, those sorts, i was raising them, my aunt hated them, we were in a place...it was somewhere like egypt, and it was somewhere like the poorly lit room in my stepdad's house with green carpet.

other news, my gf and her mom went to pick up my package... i didn't realize until the other day it was in retention and i realized that this meant more than like... waiting to ship from one spot to the next. and then i put the tracking info into usps today... and they already claimed it. that was so crazy... maybe i am just dumb but yeah... the new clothes are here. i am sure i will post myself in these pieces soon but i'm really happy with the order, a couple shirts, a tulle bolero thingy, a slip dress, a corset belt, 2 necklaces, and a heart bag from milk, and this cardigan type deal, it goes over stuff, it looks like fruit netting, it's super pretty and it'll look good over sleeveless things, it's gonna be so perfect with a lot of shirts where i want an extra crazy layer.

i wanted to work on music today but i did not... i didn't do much productive today, and no one came over, our friends had another emergency, things are not going well for them,.. very unfun for them and i feel bad, obviously i don't mind or anything, it's just sad that their lives are a bit rough rn. even if it's just like, a vet visit, that can be all kinds of unpleasant, on the spectrum of waste of money to oh no my beloved animal will die soon. hopefully i guess it's just not too bad a waste of money.

i did cook today, i'm happy with how the food came out, i need to set the chicken aside and then put it back in the stir fry from now on, i guess i just avoid that out of laze... no more... it's not like it even tasted bad before it was just a bit less flavorful... now it goes crazy... yay i suppose. i also need to call my mom soon, i'll ask about that tomorrow probably.

i keep listening to swan lake / death disco. maybe i need to just work out some stuff on the bass soon. just go crazy, write riffs for bass, get in on some locked grooves. that would be fun.

i still hafta work out, guh, i'll do it now...

i did it , and i got distracted by rfactor2 racing videos and music by a guy i've liked since hs, but no one knows him cuz he's like, just a guy who does stuff, kind of how i do things.

i knew him as bettenhaus rhyne in hs, years ago i went looking for that record to hear it again, that he did, and then i found him as terre noire, and then upon rediscovering him and loving the newer stuff, i posted some in a server i was in, and it turns out one of my friends is friends with him, crazy coincidence, small world and all that. i think his music is really special though, it's some of the only post punk stuff made recently that really does keep at the avant garde goals some bands in the original scene had, kinda brings lemon kittens to mind, or at least how i felt when i heard lemon kittens for the first time. a lot of the song structure weirdness, it's all very intentional and alien, he's a great songwriter when it comes to dislocating things, kind of makes songs that ache and creak in their slithering/unfurling.

interesting, there's a music vid for one of his songs, the song's like 7 years old, at least, but the vid's 2 months old:

this video gets at one of the cooler things about his visual aesthetic, which is all the worlds.com early freaky 3d type stuff he's into, the video was made by other guys but it's in keeping w/ what he likes, he's always been big on that, i remember.

whoever did the animation for that vid is in this band:

this song's pretty good, some of the other stuff... not so much, but this is really bizarre. the vocals, the banjo, it shouldn't work, but it does... really really weird. rocks though. it's like a poppier version of mamaleek or something.

the song right after that one is like. really awful rap rock. that's crazy. i guess i respect how much this band throws at the wall. they're in a really cursed zone, nearly too indieshit too handle, doing some really interesting stuff... so odd how bands like this appear. guys who know all that weird noise stuff but still really like... i dunno... i can't gather what's going on here. i do think i wasn't there is gonna stick with me though, since it is a confluence of that weird zone of like, local band that's just doing wayyyy too much, and then that turning out a good song somehow. fucked up.

need to sleep, now, too late / too early but not even early it's almost gonna be almost noon almost almost noon. 9:30 feels so close... how odd.

listened to this alex g song and now i must sleep:

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[pink-ink-goblin]

Better Off Lost - Chapter 2

A collab between the lovely @lostcybertronian and myself! Part 3 will be from them!

Chapter 1   Chapter 2 (You are here)

Pairings: Dark/Host

Warnings: Mild Blood

Based on this post

Host found himself frozen in place, his fingers still held in the cold hollow where his most important book of all should have resided, hidden amongst so many others, layered in dust and sometimes blood, so that it may never be grabbed by mistake.

But this was no mistake.

For someone to take this one - his journal, his only documentation of his past deeds, his own private world - would not only be foolish, but a calculated maneuver against him.

And he knew only one person whose agenda conformed to that.

His trench coat fluttered behind him as he turned to to race back to the bedroom, his jaw set firmly in a rage he hadn’t felt since he’d become this ghost of his former self, pulling the popped collar closer around his neck to fight the chill through his nightshirt.

Memories stirred like dusty beasts from the base of his skull, rearing back their heads and giving him their screams as reminder of all the things he done with that small, unassuming journal. Of all the lives he’d ruined. Of the people he’d abused just so he could get his desired end. Of those he killed simply because the story just wasn’t turning out right...

Of those ‘things’ he’d created with the soul purpose of fixing what he thought wrong with the world.

He shook his head to clear it, letting out his anger on the bedroom door as he threw it hard enough to ricochet against the wall, the hinged barricade returning with enough force to nearly close itself behind him. The sound startled awake Dark who flew upright in the covers, looking surprised but not frightened, that is, until Host grabbed him by the shoulders and leveled himself inches from his face like he was looking directly into the demon’s eyes.

“Where is it?” Host hissed, his fingers squeezing into Dark’s shoulders in a way that would have had Dark wincing in pain if his body were capable of such human feelings anymore.

“Is this some new kind of foreplay?” Dark bit back with a scowl, irate at being awoken so rudely and sitting absolutely still as he watched Host grit his teeth agitatedly.

“Don’t be an ass,” Host warned, push Dark back and standing upright to ‘look’ down at him. “I won’t ask a second time.”

“I can’t be of any kind of help if I don’t know what the hell it is you’re talking about, can I?” Dark replied flatly, throwing back the covers to stand too, cracking his neck as he did so and wincing at the crunch.

“My. Journal,” Host seethed, hands balling into fists at his sides. “I know you have it. No one else in this house of idiots could have possibly known of its existence, apart from maybe Wilford, but he’d sooner use a gun than a pen. You’re the only one I know who could benefit from its use.”

“I was unaware that you even still had that old thing,” Dark replied nonchalantly. “I thought you’d tossed it ages ago. I mean, I certainly wouldn’t mind borrowing it.”

“Dark-!”

“Oh for God’s sake, I don’t have your damn journal!” Dark snarled, the unnatural ringing picking up behind him with the sound of a gunshot. But Host was unintimidated.

“Then where would it have gone?! It wouldn’t have just walked away!”

“Why not just be rid of it?” Dark scoffed, reigning himself back in as he felt his shell threaten to crack. He couldn’t do that to Host. Not again. “It’s nothing more than a gruesome storybook now anyway.”

“I can’t. It’s where I keep my -” Host bit his tongue, face turning away from Dark as everything about him seemed to fall. “Look, it’s important that that book doesn’t fall into the hands of someone liable to use it. Not only would they be in danger, but so would everyone around them. It’s more than a book, it’s a -”

“Pocket dimension, yes I know,” Dark affirmed exasperatedly, but after a moment of watching Host hunch in misery, he slowly drew the man into his arms with a sigh, feeling the warmth of fresh blood on his neck as Host eventually leaned in. “I never forgot.”

“Then you understand how dire this is, and why it’s important that I find it.” Host returned gently, regretfully, wrapping his arms around Dark’s waist loosely.

“Can’t you deduce its location by narrating?” Dark asked, his own irritation easing away as Host reigned his emotions in.

“I hadn’t tried,” Host admitted with a frown into Dark’s neck. “I was so sure it was you. I just assumed… I’m sorry.”

Dark pursed his lips, something stirring in those abyssal eyes that rang a familiar bell in Host’s mind’s eye, but it didn’t remain long enough for him to place it as Dark simply said, “Try now.” Host sighed and unwillingly stepped back, a hand sliding down Dark’s arm until it reached the demon’s own chilled hand, twining their fingers as he took a deep breath… and slowly released it. He took another much slower one...

And then narrations came.

His form stiffened, words flying from his lips faster than they could be caught, his quiet near mumbles filling the air around him, and yet he couldn’t hear a sound. All of his focus drew inward, and then exploded forth from him as his awareness expanded to envelope rooms, buildings, entire cities.  

Images flashed before his eyes, perfect pictures of places he had traversed, and others he had not. He could see objects flying by, leaving trails of colors in their wake as they flew past. Blue, grey, red, pink, brown… stage lights, street lights, moonlight… starry skies, open windows, and the slumbering figures within them. He saw them, heard them, felt them; all their warm dreams and terrible nightmares. Of things done, and things planned for the future. Happiness, laughter, sorrows, he felt them all… and then he was plunged into blackness.

A void, dark as pitch and yet bright enough to see, called to him, filled to the brim with clouds of vertigo-inducing miasma. A place no mortal would ever find themselves within on accident. Yet amidst that foggy smoke sat a desk, lit by a single spot of dim light like a beacon.

And upon that desk, a very familiar leather bound book.

“Host…” He heard, but he was too absorbed to consider it, already walking forward to retrieve it in only the way he could. Thank God, thank God, it wasn’t lost. It wasn’t in the hands of those he most feared, and yet… he felt he had a great reason to fear it’s existence in here of all places.

“Host!” He was being shook, violently, and the world around him began to blur. But he was so close! His fingertips were inches from its spine, trembling at the happiness of having it back.

Or was that from the exertion on his body?

“HOST!” A force enveloped him, filled with reds and blues, and suddenly he was being tugged backwards screaming through a blur of rooms. Back over wispy outlines of people waking confused. Back through open windows that slammed closed behind him. Back through the orange glow of sunrise, through the streetlights that blinked off and across an empty stage. Brown, pink, red, grey blue.

And suddenly he was slammed into his own body, stumbling to fall if someone hadn’t caught him. Someone cold as death, and calling his name around an ear splitting ring. He struggled violently and was dropped for his effort onto the carpet below, breathing and trying to reorient himself as he felt those cold hands return to him.

“Are you with me?” A deep voice asked, more panicked than his tone would imply. There was concern in that voice, but Host was beyond it and rounded on him immediately.

“It’s in your office!” Host yelled, shoving Dark away drunkenly as his normal headache set in from abusing his powers of sight. He could feel fresh warmth running down his face in frankley concerning amounts, the cloth he adorned too full to take on anymore of the sticky blood. But he didn’t care. He was seething.

Dark LIED to him.

But Dark was looking down at him, searching him, cogs turning and twisting in his mind as he tried to understand what this could possibly mean. More lies. They had to be.

“I can’t fucking believe you!” Host spat, taking a shuddering breath before moving to stand, using the wall as leverage rather than Dark’s outstretched hand. “After everything we’ve been through!”

“I haven’t touched your journal,” Dark reminded with a dangerous sort of calm, but his tone was filled more with curiosity. He was standing upright now, eyes sharp and fully clothed, standing in that prim and proper way he did when was when working.

“Then what, are you saying someone framed you?” Host retorted back sarcastically, finding his fury calming to replaced with cautious bitterness. This situation had him on edge in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Not since… before. It was making him question everything, and Host hated questions he didn’t know the answers to.

Dark resisted smiling at that notion. “I don’t believe they would go to the trouble of framing me, considering our limited list of suspects. No, if it’s been placed this way - in a way I would discover if you had not - then I do I believe… someone wants my attention.”

Host scoffed, already making for the door. “I doubt they know what they’re asking for.”

Dark’s face remained flat, but Host could feel something twist in the demon at his callous words. Too callous. Host was angry, but the rational part of him realized that was uncalled for and he grimaced. But Dark didn’t seem fit to deign the jab worthy of response, so Host pressed on, almost to the door when he felt a hand snatch his wrist.

“What?” Host growled.

“Shortcut,” Dark replied simply and drew Host into his side, not waiting for the blind man to accept his help as he walked them through the door.

A cold chill passed through Host, that frosty breath of the supernatural shroud that Dark moved himself about in, but when that feeling didn’t disperse despite finding himself once more on a stable plane, Host knew they were there. Dark’s office.

“Even curiouser,” Dark muttered, leaving Host to walk to the desk by himself.

“What?” Host asked, but as he drew closer, he could see what Dark meant.

His journal was open, right down the middle, and that was not what he saw in his vision. The book had been closed then. It had been moved. Was someone still lingering in the shadows that overhung Dark’s place of business? They couldn’t be, Dark would sense them immediately if Host didn’t. Then how…?

But unfortunately, Host didn’t get a greater chance to dwell on it as he realized that Dark was already peering into the last thing Host ever wanted him to see, the book itself open to the last words he ever wrote on their death encrusted pages.

‘Perhaps the past… is better off lost.’

Dark’s eyes had taken on that look again, something deep and full of emotions that the demon would never willingly share, so Host made to prompt him, when a cackle was heard.

Coming directly from the book.

Shit!

“Get back!” Host cried, but it was too late. The book exploded into a whirlwind of fluttering pages, swirling around them both with all the violence of a tornado. And he could feel it sucking them both in. He grabbed the table, and the demon grabbed him, but the force only grew and grew until they couldn’t take no more.

Host yelled as his fingers slipped, hearing Dark roar from beside him as his own grip upon Host was lost, both of them succumbing to the book’s suction as they were pulled within. He heard the demon yell to him, but his words were lost among the wind.

Suddenly, Host was left to tumble into the darkness on his own... and the last sound he heard was the dull thud of a book snapping closed.

[gio-writes]

apologies

*blinks* has it really been that long? aw shit.

look, i am so. SO. SORRRRYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! for my absence from working on The Unwinding Season or any fic for that matter. late last year, i went through so many life changes. i have a full-time job now which has been a blessing financially and for my healthcare. but boy is it a time and energy sucker. right around the same time, I got my first apartment on my own and i enjoy living indepently and furnishing it, but adult life is HARD. i also went through a couple losses around the same time, my 18 year old cat Honey and my grandmother. both of them were of advanced age, so you come to expect their departures, but it doesn't always make it easier.

BUT after all that, i feel like i'm back into the groove of writing again. it just took....... almost a year. i'm really sorry about that. as i've started up again, i rediscovered that writing is fun. i missed getting to write the castlevania characters again. also i'm excited for Nocturne where we get a new cast + alucard. i'll sorely miss trevor, sypha, and greta though, so i really need to finish the season 5 that's been fermenting in my head.

you know what they say about that vintage wine, huh. as a token for all the waiting you've done, I've added a sneakity peakity for chapter 7 of The Unwinding Season under the cut. at least it's a part i feel like i've edited enough. please stay tuned for more updates.

The guilt set in sooner than Greta expected, a nagging sensation that grew stronger in time like the throbbing in her hand from Daniil’s rock of a head. Not that she regretted knocking him onto his arse, that she’d been itching to do for years. But she lost her composure in front of an audience, and he used it against her. 

It wasn’t even the first time. 

Once when they were children, he’d flung her treasured doll high into a tree far too tall for her short legs and arms to climb. She shoved him into the dirt. A fair trade, or so she thought. That night, his mother’s protests in Iulian’s hut were shrill enough for the entire village to hear. Greta had sat outside waiting for her punishment. Her heart throbbed with worry. Again, there would be no home for her. She was the daughter of his late friend, not blood like Daniil. From then on, her fate was a candle in the wind. 

But after she stormed out of the hut, cold eyes regarding her as she trudged over muddy ground, Iulian shuffled out and he gave Greta a wink and a clap on the shoulder. “The boy had it coming,” he said. “but try not to rile up his mother for my sake.”

Unless his sister could give him a strong tongue lashing in the afterlife, Iulian would hear nothing of today. Greta tried to imagine what he’d say now, what he’d make of her entrusting the village to his nephew and chasing a half-vampire through a magical mirror. Maybe he’d second-guess taking her under his wing all those years ago and rescind her title. Wouldn’t that tickle Danniil. 

Maybe it’d serve her right. Anything could happen in Belmont in their absence and she would know nothing of it until they returned. Trevor and Sypha were more than capable to protect it. They would vouch for her, that she was sure of, but they were still newcomers unfamiliar with the tactics Daniil and his family used to sway people. If only she’d had time to prepare them with counterattacks, then she’d have more confidence. 

The slightest twitch of her fingers sent bolts of sharp, stabbing pain through her hand. She hissed as she clutched her arm to her chest, praying for the pain to ebb with each pulse through her veins. This wouldn’t fade with sleep even if she could manage a wink. Why had she thought otherwise?

She sat up on her bed roll, careful not to jostle her hand. The swelling in her fingers and knuckles made her stomach twist into knots. Daniil’s rock of a head did its own damage on her. Alucard would notice. Not even a single night into their journey and they had a setback. Sooner or later he’d see her as a hindrance and send her back to Belmont alone. Another man whose expectations she’d fall short of and lose.

Fuck that. She was a grown woman; there was no leaving Arges without him even if he came to despise her. He’d just have to suck it up. Much like she had to swallow these doubts and fix her hand.

[aboutlouishofmann]

A Life Devoted To Music

[Original interview here which is already in English. I'm just testing. All images curtesy of cinema.de]

FRIDAY, 7/5/2019

A LIFE DEVOTED TO MUSIC

In PRÉLUDE Louis Hofmann plays a talented pianist.

Rising star Louis Hofmann has often been seen at FILMFEST MÜNCHEN — for example, in the tender coming-of-age drama CENTER OF MY WORLD. By now, Hofmann is well-known all over Germany thanks to the captivating mystery series DARK. This makes us all the more delighted that this up-and-coming actor is returning to Munich this year with not one, but two exciting films. In PRÉLUDE, he plays a talented musician who experiences the downside of being an artist; and he also has a role in THE WHITE CROW, about Soviet ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev. We met the amiable actor at the world premiere of PRÉLUDE and asked him about his own experiences as an artist and how life in the spotlight affects a person.

In PRÉLUDE, you play an aspiring pianist named David, a freshman at a conservatory who's under pressure from the beginning. What was it about this story that caught your interest?

In 2015, I was invited to a casting for PRÉLUDE. I think I'd read only a small blurb about it, but it won me over right away and I knew I absolutely had to play this part. I don't know whether I'd already seen WHIPLASH. I grew up around lots of music and have an affinity to it — and probably a fascination with sadness as well. I thought if the script fulfills the promise of that little blurb, I've got to be a part of things. Then I went to the first casting with director Sabrina Sarabi and we simply got along very well and I noticed that she does very fine work.

When did you finally shoot the film?

Two years ago. It was hard to get all the money that was necessary. It is just a small film, after all. I'm still glad that we made it even though we didn't have much money. Being so close on set was also great. On the first day of shooting, there were maybe 15 of us on the set. It took some getting used to, because I'd just come from DARK, where we'd had 100 to 150 people. That was our own little microcosm, and working with such a small team was something I enjoyed to the fullest.

Is that something you generally prefer: a smaller scale?

No. I just prefer good material.

What does good material consist of?

That's the question. There are only the standard responses: well-developed characters, a nice development of the role, a story that's exciting, not one that's narrated. David is somebody I can identify with to a good extent. He's sensitive. He has this great ambition that I carry within myself. When he does something, he jumps in wholeheartedly. That's also the approach I take to my own work. That's why I understood him right away.

You mentioned that music has always been very important to you. Do you play an instrument?

I played violin for a year, because my brother played violin. I stopped pretty soon after that. Then, at age eight or nine, I began to play the drums. I did that for eight years.

Do you still play?

I stopped when I moved from Cologne to Berlin. I didn't have a drum set there, nor did I have the infrastructure: a place to rehearse and so on. I didn't take it up again until this year. I rediscovered how awesome it is and how much I'd missed it — how I'd totally been caught up in the piano as well. I used to be able to play chords or three-finger accompaniment. Classical pieces, though, were pretty foreign to me. I somehow put in a lot of effort with a teacher, without being able to read music. We did it with videos. I think it helped me a little to be able to play the drums. But to learn a new instrument and suddenly understand how it works and to be familiar with the keyboard and to get into the groove when playing: that really did a lot for me. In addition, it was just extremely good preparation for the part. It made the character accessible to me, which is something I hadn't really expected.

How long did you practice?

After I got the role, we did two years of workshops. In the end, we had two-hour lessons, five days a week for three months, and then two to four more hours a day of practice.

That's a lot.

You're right. But it's great. At first it's so difficult. The first two weeks were so rough: you're really just searching for the notes; your fingers don't understand it all just yet. You feel like a dyslexic on the piano, just so amateurish. And suddenly after two or three weeks, your fingers start doing what they should. You follow the instrument, and it's simply awesome.

Are you still doing it?

Unfortunately not. No, because I can't read music and because I'd noticed that I get bored easily because I only ever play the same pieces. My roommates and I have a piano, and I play it sometimes, but not like before.

What kind of music do you listen to?

Mainly indie rock, indie pop, alternative. Sometimes soul classics, chansons, or jazz hip-hop.

Can you name two or three artists?

Two or three artists I can name... Somehow that's always pretty hard to do. Right now I'm really looking forward to the new Dope Lemon album that's coming out soon. As for indie pop, Bon Iver is one of my heroes. Parcels is great. I could go on forever. Music is a really important part of my life. I just immerse myself in it and discover new artists. It's a lot of fun.

There's this gotcha question that I once picked up from a job interview: If you were a song, what song would you be? That is, a song that describes you very well.

I have no idea. I think the songs we listen to speak to only part of ourselves. The first song I thought of is "8 (Circle)" by Bon Iver. But that's just my melancholy side. It wouldn't describe me completely, because I also have a non-melancholy side, a very happy side, that I wouldn't be doing justice to.

Now that you've had a brief look at the life of a musician, even indirectly, what would you say is similar to or different from the life of an actor?

The pressure is what they have in common. The expectations one has of oneself. The competition. Although I have to say we're a generation, I think, who fight more alongside each other than against each other. For a pianist, it's a more individual fight than for an actor, because as an actor you normally don't perform alone.

In the film, David has to put his personal life on the back burner in order to get somewhere as a musician. Since you said that you enjoy immersing yourself, to what extent do you find yourself having to put your personal life on the back burner?

Since the work always comes in phases, you only have to do that in phases. And then I do that. In recent years, I've also learned that you can't completely separate the two — that the project phases should intersect more with the phases of free time. I've always felt that I've completely forgone personal life while working, up until the end of shooting. At some point, I no longer thought that was a good thing. In this line of work, you have to watch out, otherwise you'll start thinking of the year only in terms of blocks of time. I've resolved to be aware of this for more than a whole year again. Theater actors can probably do that a lot better, because they have regular work. They're able to balance their personal lives and their work more easily. That's a small obstacle that a film actor has to overcome at some point.

Let's assume you have free time. What do you do to unwind after work?

I had a hard time of that in Berlin. But this year, I went back to some old hobbies, like the drums. Also skateboarding, climbing, bouldering, and so on, to find balance. It's just about doing something that no one judges and where there's no output. Where you're not forced to deliver output. Because all you do when playing is give, give, give. You learn something, too, of course, and it gives you something back. But it's very relaxing to just do something that no one is appraising.

And where you're not being watched.

That, too, yes.

How often does it happen nowadays that you're recognized out on the street?

Sometimes. Occasionally. There are days when nothing happens, and other days when it happens several times. It also depends on whether I'm in a bar or another place where people gather.

Imagine that for some reason you had to do something other than act.

What would I do?

Exactly.

Hm. That's difficult.

Did you always want to be an actor, or were there alternatives?

A soccer player, of course. I definitely wanted to be a soccer player. When I finished high school, I was also very interested in psychology — and art. But I don't believe that I'd study art or psychology, even though I was still saying that two or three years ago. I also have a lot of fun working behind the camera, and I've been a set manager for short films. I enjoy organizing a set in the extreme, because I also have experience in how these things work. I'd probably still prefer to stay in the world of film and then maybe try to develop material or help to see it realized.

So you could also imagine directing and scriptwriting?

Probably not scriptwriting. I'm more the kind of person who reads the script and says, "Oh, that's what happens. I think it'd be great if this and that also happened." I don't think I could write a story myself. I have a lot of respect for those who can.

What else are you up to next?

On Monday, we started filming the third season of DARK, so I'll just do that for now. That'll probably take another six months. After that, we'll be done. The series was planned as a trilogy from the beginning, so the story will conclude with the third season.

That's all from me. In closing, do you have any more comments you'd like to make about your film?

I think Sabrina is very talented, and I'm very proud of this film and hope that people will see it.