#if I was not supposed to be working right now I’d edit that picture so his trench coat is super saturated and give it shiny edges like it’s

[master-sass-blast]

Let's (Not) Party, Baby.

Summary: You rub your swollen belly, both fond and exhausted. “I think it just feels weird to me. Like, the gender reveal party was to celebrate the healthy pregnancy lasting so long. But I just feel really weird about being, like, ‘I’m growing a human, come give me shit.’”

Kitty laughs as she unwraps another bar of chocolate. “Well, I think it’s the duty of the community to support pregnant mothers, y’know? It’s about equipping the parents with what they need to care for the baby.”

“Yeah, but everything I’ve read about and seen online is a whole spectacle,” you grumble. “And, honestly, I don’t have the energy for a party. I’m fucking tired. I feel bloated and sore. I don’t want to have a party where I have to put on real pants and eat melted candy bars out of diapers.”

Kitty stills, then slowly looks over at you with a wide-eyed expression of horror. “That’s a thing?”

“It’s a game,” you answer with a roll of your eyes. “You’re supposed to guess which kind of candy it is.”

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: G.

Word count: 4.3k.

Set after "S'mores for Two."

Author's Note: Me? Posting more than once a year? Surely not.

In other news, my CFS/other body and brain shit is still overwhelming. It basically took dragging myself through editing to be able to post this latest round of fics (for those of you who don't check out my other works, no worries, but I like to post in little caches so that everything is updated mostly together). I'm not trying to vie for pity; I'm really fucking proud of myself for pushing through and being able to post. I had an unofficial goal of wanting to post more fics before April was over (because April is my birth month), and I did it! I am that bitch!

Thank you all for your patience -and all the comments! They really kept me going when the grind of editing was starting to wear me down.

Happy Reading!

“I guess I’m just not sure what to do.”

Kitty nods as she paints your fingernails a pretty shade of shimmering lilac. “Well, I think it just depends on, like, what you and Piotr want to do, y’know?”

The two of you are on the family room couch; you’ve both taken over the space a bit, actually. It’s a scheduled at home spa day, courtesy of Kitty. There’s dozens of bottles of nail polish lined up on the coffee table, next to two discarded face mask wrappers, a tub of coarse sugar scrub, a sleeve of cotton discs, and an entire store's worth of toners and moisturizers. There’s a half-empty pizza box on one end of the table, several bars of chocolate (and more wrappers), an open jar of pickles (the good, Kosher deli kind, according to Kitty), and a cereal bowl half-filled with peanut butter.

You swipe one end of a pickle spear through your bowl of peanut butter, then crunch down. I mean, I know that’s the point, but… “I think it’s more, like,” you begin once you’ve swallowed, “that I never thought I’d be in this position in life. And that if I ever did get to this stage in life–” you gesture vaguely around you with your munched-on pickle spear “–that I’d automatically know what to do.”

Kitty nods, curly hair bobbing with the motion of her head. “I get you.” She finishes your right hand, then screws the lid back onto the corresponding bottle of polish. “It’s, like, hard to wrap your head around.”

“Yeah. I mean–” You pause to load more peanut butter onto your pickle, which is harder than it sounds. “How are you even supposed to plan baby shower stuff?”

It’s a quandary that’s been gnawing on the back of your mind for months now. The gender reveal party, at least, had been easy. Tasty food, balloon with colored confetti inside, Aiden’s photography team because you and Piotr had wanted pictures, done. It’d been a celebration of having a pregnancy last long enough to see the baby’s gender –and a wonderful day where you and Piotr learned you’d be welcoming a daughter in a few months.

Trying to plan a baby shower, however…

You rub your swollen belly, both fond and exhausted. Your eviction date is coming for you, Masha, whether you like it or not. “I think it just feels weird to me. Like, the gender reveal party was to celebrate the healthy pregnancy lasting so long. We all ate food and enjoyed each other’s company. But I just feel really weird about being, like, ‘I’m growing a human, come give me shit.’”

Kitty laughs as she unwraps another bar of chocolate. “Well, I think it’s the duty of the community to support pregnant mothers, y’know? It’s about equipping the parents with what they need to care for the baby.”

“Yeah, but everything I’ve read about and seen online is a whole spectacle,” you grumble. You hold your hand out for a square of chocolate, then pop the piece Kitty gives you into your mouth. “And, honestly,” you continue as you tuck the chocolate into your cheek like a hamster, “I don’t have the energy for a party. I’m fucking tired. I feel bloated and sore. I don’t want to have a party where I have to put on real pants and eat melted candy bars out of diapers.”

Kitty stills, then slowly looks over at you with a wide-eyed expression of horror. “That’s a thing?”

“It’s a game,” you answer with a roll of your eyes. “You’re supposed to guess which kind of candy it is.”

She gags, then shakes her head. “Fuck that. That’s just gross.”

“Exactly!”

Kitty eats a few squares of chocolate, expression contemplative. Once she swallows, she says, “I guess I don’t see it as that big of a deal –not having a baby shower and all that. We don’t have baby showers in Jewish circles.”

“Oh.” Your brows lift upwards. “Why not?”

“It’s considered inauspicious,” she explains. “My best friend’s older sister’s parents kept all the baby stuff at their house until she gave birth. Then, they went over to her and husband’s place and set everything up for when she came home.”

“Oh.” You cock your head to one side, considering, then grimace and shrug. “We already have the nursery part way set up, though–”

“I didn’t mean that, like, that should do the same thing,” Kitty interjects. “I meant it, like, whatever you do should serve you and your happiness.” She offers you a reassuring smile. “There is no real rule about what’s normal or not. If a baby shower sounds exhausting, then don’t do it.”

“But people might be expecting for us to have one,” you sigh wearily, “so they can celebrate.”

“Fuck them and their expectations.” Kitty grins when you laugh. “I’m serious! All that matters is what makes you happy.”

“And Piotr,” you tack on once you catch your breath. “And he might want one.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find that out–” Kitty twists towards the front of the house when the front door swings open, then thumps shut. “Hey, speak of the man!”

Piotr pauses his conversation with Illyana as he looks towards you. He glances at you, eyebrows raised, then at Kitty, then back at you again. “Chto?”

“Your wife has a question for you!” Kitty hollers before flashing a dazzling, enraptured grin at Illyana. “Hi, baby!”

Piotr takes off his shoes, then strolls towards you. “You have question, myshka? Is everything okay?”

“Well, first things first.” You cock your head back so you can look up at him. “Will you give me a kiss, even though I’ve been eating peanut butter on pickles?”

He smirks, then bends down and presses his lips against yours.

“Aaw, what a man,” Kitty croons. She cocks her head back when Illyana approaches the couch. “Will you kiss me, even though I’ve been eating pickles without peanut butter?”

Illyana chuckles, then cups Kitty’s chin with her hand and kisses her girlfriend. She looks up when you and Piotr share a grin, then gently tugs on Kitty’s elbow. “Davay.”

“Help yourself to the pizza!” Kitty tosses over her shoulder as Illyana ushers her towards the front of the house (and away from prying eyes).

Piotr kisses the top of your head, then circles around the couch and sits down next to you. The couch creaks beneath him as he helps himself to a slice of cheese pizza, then again when he leans back and settles in. “Ty v poryadke?”

“Da,” you assure him. “I was just talking to Kitty about baby shower stuff.”

Piotr’s brows draw together as he chews a mouthful of pizza. He swallows, then says, “I thought baby showers were not held in Jewish communities.”

“They aren’t. It was more like…” You gesture vaguely with one hand and sigh. “I don’t know if I want to have a baby shower. I’m so tired, and I feel like a boat, and I don’t want to wear pants.”

Piotr lets out a bellowing laugh mid bite, then quickly claps one hand over his mouth. He finishes chewing between giggles, then swallows and sighs. “Oh, moya serdtse. One day, there will be pants that you like.”

“Doubtful.” You smirk, but it quickly gives way to weariness. “I mean… I just don’t know if I have the energy to deal with a baby shower, y’know? But if you want one, I don’t want to take that away from you.”

“What I want–” Piotr sets his partial pizza slice down on a piece of paper towel, then leans over and draws you into his arms. “I want you to be happy and well.” He kisses the crown of your head, then tucks your head beneath his chin. “Masha will be loved and cared for regardless of having baby shower. If you are tired, then you deserve to rest, myshka.”

“Yeah,” you agree as you bury your face in his burly chest, “but if everyone’s expecting us to have one–”

“‘Everyone’ does not get say,” Piotr interrupts gently. “If they wish to help or give gifts, they know where to find us.”

You sigh, then nuzzle against his shirt when he starts stroking your hair. “Maybe we can have, like, a nice dinner or something? With family and close friends? And some help to finish setting up the nursery?”

Piotr gently rubs your back. “That sounds nice.”

“Cool.” You sigh again, far more relaxed this time, then lean over and grab your jar of pickles. “Want a pickle?”

Piotr hums, then nods and plucks a pickle spear out of the jar. “Spasibo.”

“Konechno,” you say before kissing his cheek.

…

“Thanks again for driving me,” you say as you stretch your seatbelt around your swollen belly. “I’ve just been so tired lately that driving isn’t really a good idea.”

“Konechno, ptitsa,” Alex says as she starts the engine on her truck. “How did your appointment go?”

“Good,” you sigh as you stretch and settle into the passenger seat. “Everything’s looking good. Baby’s healthy. Blood sugar looks good. My iron’s still low, though, so I’m taking a higher dose of supplements and I need to be careful about overtiring myself.”

Alex hums and nods as she navigates out of the clinic parking lot. “What can we help with at home?”

“Uh…” Your face and mind go blank. You try, unsuccessfully, to kickstart your brain, then rub your face with your hands when your mind refuses to cooperate. “I think that’d be a difficult question without factoring in pregnancy brain.”

“Fair enough,” Alex chuckles.

“Man, I thought I was spacey before,” you lament. “And then it was bad enough weaning off my meds, but now–” You stop mid-sentence and gape when you see the sign for a McDonalds. “McFlurry.”

Alex laughs again, then changes lanes and drives into the McDonald’s parking lot.

One order for a large fry and an Oreo McFlurry later, the two of you are back on the road and headed for home.

You hum contentedly as you swirl a few fries in your McFlurry. Before you can indulge, though, your addled brain kicks back into gear. “Oh. Did you have a baby shower when you were pregnant with Mikhail?”

“No.” Alex pauses to turn, then explains, “It’s considered back luck in Russian culture. Most expecting parents won’t have one or purchase things for the baby until they are born.”

“Oh.” You blink a few times –the curse under your breath when McFlurry drips off your fries and onto your shirt. You shove your fries and remaining McFlurry “dip” into your mouth, then wipe down your shirt with a tissue (not that it does much good). Once you’re cleaner, and you’ve swallowed, you ask, “Then why was Piotr so ambivalent about whether we have one or not?”

“Because that boy will follow you to the ends of Earth if you asked,” Alex answers with a smirk. “And he’s Americanized a bit since moving here. Plus, we didn’t necessarily raise our kids to be so superstitious. Nikolai and I saw it as more to not ask about someone’s pregnancy unless they wanted to share, rather than luck related. We still prepared a nursery for Mikhail and stocked up on supplies.” She drums her fingers against the steering wheel while you wait behind another car. “To be honest, even if parties were part of our culture, I wasn’t in any shape for one.” She chuckles ruefully beneath her breath. “I was a wreck during that pregnancy.”

“Honestly, I feel the same way,” you admit with a heavy sigh. “I’m so tired, and sore, and I don’t want to wear pants.” You smile when Alex laughs, then continue with your griping. “Plus, all of the shit I’ve seen for baby showers just… doesn’t appeal? I don’t have the energy to decorate, and apparently there’s games you can play? But it’s weird stuff like melting candy bars in diapers, then having everyone try and guess what kind of candy it is–”

Alex grimaces. “That sounds disgusting.”

“Yeah. Plus, if I’m getting candy, I just want to eat the candy.”

“Understandable and wise.”

“We talked about having family and friends over for dinner,” you continue after grinning, “and to have some help around the house and finishing the nursery… but, like, how do you ask people ‘hey, come bring some food and hang out and help us with the nursery and house stuff because we’re expecting a baby?’”

Alex smirks and shoots you a sidelong glance. “That seemed pretty coherent to me.”

“That’s not what I–” You stick your tongue out at her when she laughs. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” she assures you. She brakes for a red light, then looks over and puts one hand on your shoulder. “Just ask, ptitsa. Ask, and we’ll be there.”

You smile, and place your hand over hers. “Thanks, Alex.”

…

“I was thinking of actually printing invitations? I don’t know why, I just think it’d be funny.” You spit toothpaste foam into the sink, then resume brushing your teeth. “We could print an extra one to keep. It’d be, like, a cute memory thing.”

Piotr smiles at you in the bathroom mirror, amused. “We could. What would these hypothetical invitations say?”

“I dunno.” You rinse your mouth and toothbrush, then stick your toothbrush in the little holder you keep on the sink. “‘We’re having a baby; come eat food about it.’ Whatever works, honestly.” When he chuckles, you turn to face him. “Do you have a better idea?”

Piotr laughs, shakes his head, then bends and kisses the top of your head. “I trust your creative vision, myshka.”

“Damn straight.” You smirk, self-satisfied, then turn back to the sink and resume your bedtime routine. Floss, fluoride, wash face… what kind of food are you supposed to serve at a baby shower? “What kind of food would we have?”

“Uh…” Piotr clears his throat. “I am not sure,” he calls from the bedroom. “Perhaps we should discuss in morning. Take night to sleep on ideas.”

Your reflection scrunches its face as you floss. “I don’t think it’s that serious. It’s just, like, a potluck dinner. Almost anything would work.”

There’s a pause, and then your husband’s heavy footsteps approach the bathroom. He leans around the doorway and meets your gaze in the mirror, lips pursed. “Da. However…” He tucks his tongue inside his cheek and looks away. “Your nighttime cravings are… ravenous. And unpredictable.”

“I am not that bad!” You blow a raspberry at him over your shoulder, then toss your used flosser in the trash. “Fine. We’ll talk about food in the morning.” You reach for the bottle of fluoride –then gasp and scamper to the bathroom door. “We should have pancakes for breakfast!”

Piotr laughs and nods as he turns down the bed. “Pancakes for breakfast, very good.”

“With blueberries!”

“With blueberries.”

Pleased, you smile, then head back to the sink. Once you’re done with your routine, you head to bed and heft yourself onto the mattress.

Piotr, the saint he is, helps arrange pillows behind you to support your back. He leans over to watch as you scroll through YouTube. “Ah, nighttime listenings.” He holds out one hand. “Would you like me to find Among Us gameplay for you?”

“I can do it,” you insist, frowning. “I’m pregnant, not missing my hands.”

“Nyet, nyet,” he agrees. “But–”

“‘History of Americana Diner Food.’” You gasp when you see a thumbnail displaying burgers, fries, and a milkshake. Your stomach growls, and you groan. “Oh, burgers sound so good.”

Piotr bites the inside of his lower lip when you gaze up at him pleadingly. He hesitates, then sighs and relents with a soft laugh. “Davay, myshka. Let’s get you burger.”

You coo happily, then leverage yourself out of bed. “Just for that, I’ll share my fries with you.”

…

“I meant to ask you something earlier.”

Piotr glances over as you rummage through your take-out bag, then turns his attention back to the road. “Chto?”

“Why –that smells so fucking good.” You stop to cram a few fries in your mouth, then continue once you’ve swallowed. “Why aren’t you bothered by baby shower stuff?”

There’s a long silence. Then, with quiet bewilderment, Piotr says, “I think I am not understanding your meaning.”

“I mean… Your mom said that baby showers are inauspicious in Russia. But, when I asked you if we had to do one, you seemed ambivalent about it all.”

“I do not believe much in luck,” Piotr says after a moment, shrugging. “Some things are beyond control, da, but choices are what impact outcomes. Not unseen forces.” He pauses to change lanes, then adds, “And I want to be sensitive to you. You had bad upbringing. If there was something you wanted in preparation for our baby, for healing, then I want to make sure that happens.”

“Not everything comes down to my shitty childhood,” you press. “I’m not the only person in this relationship, and this isn’t just my baby we’re expecting.” You wolf down a few more fries. “I don’t want you to set aside what you’re comfortable with just because I had fuckheads for parents. This is all supposed to be about compromise.”

“I am not making myself uncomfortable, dorogoy,” Piotr assures you, tone gentle. He takes one hand off the wheel and takes hold of yours. “I think baby showers as tradition –as mandatory–is foolish. But if you want one to celebrate our baby, that would make me very happy. And if you just want to rest, that makes me happy, also. Khorosho?”

“Alright.” You squeeze his hand lovingly, then reach into your bag and retrieve a few fries. “Open up.”

Piotr chuckles, then opens his mouth and lets you feed him fries. “Spasibo.”

…

The two of you settle on printing one commemorative flier, just for the two of you, then email your prospective guests. The promise is for a breakfast-style buffet of sorts; the two of you will provide the blinis, kasha, and some beef bacon (so Kitty can partake), and everyone else has been asked to bring their favorite breakfast dish.

You bust out laughing when Wade –with Nate and Russell in tow–shows up with a trunk full of Poptarts. “You would!”

“We are not keeping all of those,” Piotr mutters as he eyes the wall of blue boxes uneasily.

“Says you,” you tease. “I’m eating for two! These should last us… oh, about a week.”

Ellie and Yukio supply doughnuts and muffins, Neena comes with a box of freshly made breakfast burritos, and Alex, Nikolai, and Mikhail bring a veritable feast of traditional toppings for the blinis and set up to make fresh latkes.

Kitty and Illyana arrive last.

You blink rapidly when you see the numerous bags and containers carried between the two young women. “You didn’t have to–”

“You’re the one who said to bring breakfast foods!” Kitty interrupts with a cheery grin.

You eye the gallon plastic bowl in her hands with mild suspicion. “What kind of breakfast is that?”

“Okay, this–” she gestures with the bowl as she bustles into the kitchen “–isn’t breakfast, but my mom heard that you’re pregnant, and she wanted to send along some food to help you guys out. This–” she lifts the bowl again “–is cholent, and ‘Yana’s got some roast chicken and challah from mom, for you guys, too. Do you have room in your fridge? Anyway,” she continues as Piotr starts rearranging the fridge contents to make room for everything, “we brought good bagels and toppings for them, because you can’t have breakfast without bagels.” She turns, finally catches sight of all the food in the kitchen, and her jaw drops. “Oh shit.”

“If you leave hungry, is own fault,” Nikolai announces while grating potatoes.

“Hey, that’s my kind of party!” Kitty says with a laugh. “Let me get my skillet and shit set up, and then I’ll start helping you, Nick. Where should I drop everything?”

“We have counter space for you over there,” Piotr says, pointing towards the back of the kitchen. “And vegan pancake mix.”

“There’s dairy free breakfast burritos for you in the paper bag!” Neena calls out. “And the guy doesn’t use pork for any of his recipes.”

“And the pork gelatin free toaster pastries!” Russell adds.

“The doughnuts back there are parve, too,” Ellie pipes up.

Kitty beams. “Thank you so much. You guys are awesome!”

You smile, and pause for a moment to take it all in.

It’s been an inexorably long journey. As far as you’ve come from your past, there are times where you still can’t believe you’ve made it here –somewhere good, and healthy, and safe. It almost feels like a dream. Or a magical trance. Or like you’re watching a movie, and you’re waiting for the credits to start rolling and for the house lights to turn on.

But it’s real. You’re in a beautiful home, with a wonderful husband, surrounded by people who love, respect, and care about you and each other. And you have a baby on the way, on top of it all.

“Myshka?” Piotr places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you assure him quietly as you wipe tears away from your eyes. “Just very happy.”

Piotr smiles softly, then bends down and kisses your forehead. “I love you very much, moya serdtse.”

“I love you, too.” You tug him down by the collar until you can kiss his cheek, then pat his chest when he straightens back up. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

“Uh, only if you’re sitting down.” Kitty blocks you when you try to enter the kitchen. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to be resting? Doctor’s orders and all that?”

You purse your lips. “You guys are guests–”

“And we’re here to help.” Neena gently takes you by the shoulders and ushers you towards the couch. “So, let us help.”

“Resting is good, myshka,” Piotr starts when you protest.

“Aren’t we here to help both of you?” Ellie pipes up, voice flat but eyes glinting with unmistakable mischief.

“Yeah, but who’s gonna muscle Colossus out of the kitchen?” Russell stage whispers in reply.

All heads turn towards Alex.

Piotr’s confident expression quickly slips away as his mother looks him dead in the eye. “Mama…”

“Are you going to sit?” she asks in Russian.

“Bozhe ty moi –I am not pregnant,” Piotr insists. “I can help.”

Alex sighs, then rounds the kitchen island. “Alright.”

“Nyet, nyet, I am not, mama don’t –blyat!”

You laugh along with everyone else when Alex scoops Piotr up bridal-style.

She carries him over to the couch, then sets him down with surprising gentleness. “Be good,” she admonishes lovingly in Russian. She kisses Piotr’s forehead, then glances meaningfully at you. “Rub your wife’s shoulders.”

Piotr chuckles, somewhat exasperated, and rolls his eyes as his mother strides back to the kitchen. “I am grown man, you know.”

“Da,” Alex agrees without turning back. “You are heavy like one.”

You giggle when Piotr rolls his eyes again, then reach over and grab his hand. You fix him with your prettiest, most pleading eyes when he looks at you. “You don’t want to sit with me?”

“I always want to sit with you,” Piotr assures you, relenting immediately. He moves closer to you, then puts one arm around your shoulders. “Would you like me to rub your back?”

“Oh, always.” You lean against your husband, then relax as he starts rubbing your sore back with his thumbs. You groan, eyes sliding shut, and bask –in him, in the warmth of your home, in the happy chatter and delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen.

Your life certainly feels full of magic.

...

Epilogue:

“Insert Leg A into Slot G–”

“That doesn’t fucking tell me which shitbag it is!” Wade snaps. He snatches the instructions out of your hands, scans the page, then growls and hurls the paper against the floor. “You’re a goddamn rocking chair! No one fucking asked you to run the elementary school accelerated program!”

“Definitely comes with the same baggage,” Neena mutters.

Wade looks over his shoulder at her, then back at you. “Remind me why she’s being the peanut gallery again, instead of using her internal magic eight ball to help us?”

Neena rolls her eyes. “For the last time, that’s not how my powers work.”

“Not to mention they’re probably already maxed to keep you from throwing the materials through the window,” you mumble under your breath.

Things would’ve been simpler if you’d just purchased a pre-assembled rocking chair. Unfortunately, not many of them come rated from someone of Piotr’s size (or the wear and tear you’re both certain that your baby –and, eventually, kids–will put the seat through).

“I keep telling you guys, you’re going about this all wrong!” Kitty calls as she carries the vacuum cleaner down the hall.

“Yes, do enlighten us, Ms. ‘Quantumania Axed the Best Character,’” Wade grumbles.

Kitty stares at him for a long moment, face scrunched up in conclusion. “...Right.”

“KURT WAS A GEM, AND WE ALL KNOW IT!”

“Look, you guys just need to let Alex and Ellie do this,” Kitty presses on as she gestures to the mess of wooden slats and rocking chair pieces on the ground. “It’s butch magic. They’ll sort it out in, like, ten minutes.”

“I already told you, Katherine,” Ellie hollers from down the stairs, “I can’t assemble a fucking chair!”

“Fine, Ellen!” Kitty shouts back. “Then just let Alex do it! Honestly, you have a hyper-competent badass in the house, and you don’t stick her on IKEA assembly? The fuck is wrong with you all!”

“Let’s keep things moving, please.” Alex’s voice and footsteps echo up the stairwell. “And reasonably calm,” she adds with a knowing look at Kitty. There’s a pause until Kitty nods and heads off, and then Alex appears in the nursery doorway. “What am I doing now?”

“How good are you at assembling rocking chairs?” Neena asks.

Alex chuckles, then plucks the instructions off the floor. “I’ll give it a go.”

[winchesterwild78]

Behind the Scenes pt 6

Master List 

Minors DNI 18+

Warnings: Tension, FLUF, pregnancy hormones, insecurities, childbirth, emergency situation, possible death of a character. (sorry) 

A/N: You are newly hired on Supernatural. Your character was supposed to be one and done but the fans loved you so they wrote you in the story. You were supposed to play Sam’s love interest, but things get complicated when you fall for someone behind the scenes. This is a work of fiction. No disrespect to Jensen or Jared or their families. *kinda a long chapter, with a slight time jump

I edited this fast- please forgive any mistakes 

This is my original work, do not take it. 

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

About an hour later it was dark in the room but you heard the door open softly. You yawned and stretched but didn’t get up. You placed your hand on your belly and rubbed it. You love Jensen and your little family, and maybe you were being a little hormonal. You knew he loved you and wanted a life with you. He’d given you a little boy and an incredible life so far. He was committed to you and you were committed to him, so who cares if you get married. 

As you sat up the lamp turned on and standing there was Jensen. He bent down and kissed your forehead and your belly. “Hey sweetheart. Did you have a nice nap?” You smiled and nodded. He sat on the bed beside you “Sweetheart, I’m sorry if I hurt you earlier. It was not my intention. I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t prepared for them to start asking about us getting married. I want to marry you, hell I’d marry you right now if you wanted. I just didn’t want to give them an answer without having talked to you. We’ve never actually sat down and talked about marriage.”

“I know Jensen, and that makes sense. This has been a whirlwind relationship that went from not wanting to be together, to having a baby together in a matter of months. I know we haven’t talked about marriage, but I would love nothing more than to marry you. A big wedding, a small wedding, or just at the courthouse. I don’t care as long as I am marrying you.” “I agree with most of that sweetheart, but you’re not getting married at the courthouse. You deserve better than that.” Jensen leaned over and kissed your lips. 

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you up, get some food and get you ready for your photo-ops. I’ve already arranged for a chair for you, in case you get tired.” He helped you get up and you kissed him. “Thank you baby. Always taking such good care of me and this little one.” You rubbed your belly. 

*Time Jump-1 ½ months*

Jensen helped you up from the exam table as the doctor finished checking the baby. “Everything looks great. I want to see you back next week. We are in the home stretch. If anything feels strange or you have any questions don’t hesitate to call me. I don’t care what time it is.” You smiled and thanked the doctor. “Are you ready to go home sweetheart?” Jensen asked as he helped you down. “Yep, we need some food and a nap.” You chuckled and rubbed your belly. 

As the two of you walked out of the doctor’s office a fan approached the two of you on the street. She looked to be in her mid 30s, tall, redhead and beautiful. “Um, excuse me Jensen. Can I get a picture with you?” Jensen smiled and said yes. He put his arm around her and snapped the picture. She was smiling and started chatting with him. Jensen being the sweet man he is was engaged in the conversation with her. You noticed how she kept touching his arm and giggling at everything he said. She definitely was flirting and didn’t try to hide it. 

You walked up to them and touched Jensen’s arm, “Honey, we really should be going. He’s getting hungry.” You smiled softly at Jensen. The woman was more than irritated that you interrupted her. “We were just chatting, we will only be a few more minutes. You can go sit in the car if you’re too tired to stand.” Your jaw hit the ground. Before you could say anything Jensen stepped toward you and put his arm around your waist. “Ma’am, I appreciate you being a fan and wanting to chat with me, but please don’t dismiss her. That’s rude and unacceptable. I hope you have a great day, now if you will please excuse me I need to get her and my son home.” 

The two of you walked away and the woman’s mouth was on the ground. “Jens, you didn’t have to leave or say that to her.” “Yes I did. What kind of man, father would I be if I allowed someone to dismiss you when you needed something. You and our son will always be my top priority. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, if either of you need anything I will be right there.” 

Tears filled your eyes and you placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you, Jensen. I love you.” “I love you too, darlin, more than you know.”

The two of you made your way to your favorite BBQ place and grabbed some food to go. You were starving and couldn’t decide what to order. Jensen chuckled and said he’d order a family meal so you could pick what you wanted when you got home. You smiled and thanked him. He rubbed your growing belly and smiled from ear to ear. Jensen couldn’t keep his hands off your belly. He was so in love with you and he was in awe of your strength during the pregnancy. 

Once the two of you got home you kicked off your shoes and sat on the couch. Jensen set out the food and offered to make you a plate. “Nope, I’ve got it. Thank you though.” You told him as you attempted to get off the couch. You struggled and grunted, getting frustrated. Jensen watched from the kitchen and chuckled softly. Need some help there sweetheart?” He asked. You stuck out your bottom lip, pouting and said “yes”. He laughed and walked over helping you get up. 

As you stood your belly bumped into his body. You turned to the side and stood on your toes to kiss him. “Thank you honey.” He smiled and nodded. You grabbed a plate and got a little bit of everything and sat at the table. Jensen sat across from you and chuckled as he watched you dance a little while you ate. He always found you adorable when you would dance a little when you ate something good. 

You saw him looking at you and smiling. “What’s so funny, babe?” “You are, you’re adorable, you know that. I hope our son dances when he eats.” You rolled your eyes and kept eating. Once you were finished eating you stood and put your plate in the dishwasher. You yawned a little. “Come on darlin’, let’s get you to the bed to rest.” Jensen helped you up the stairs towards your shared bedroom. 

On the way to the bedroom you stopped and looked at the nursery. Jensen had been working hard to get the nursery ready and help ease your mind. Making sure everything was ready for the baby. Since he found out you were pregnant he’s been incredible. 

Jensen saw you smiling and he wrapped his arms around you. “Thank you, Jens. It’s perfect and he’s going to love it.” You kissed his lips. “Anything for you and him, baby.” He rubbed your belly. “Now, let’s get you to bed.” You nodded and started to walk to the room.

Once in the room you climbed in the bed and laid on your side. Jensen climbed in beside you and faced you. “You are so beautiful.” Jensen smiled. You blushed. “Let me hold you baby. Turn over, please.” Jensen motioned. You turned to your side and Jensen slid up behind you. You nestled back into his chest and felt his arm snake around your waist. He held your belly, feeling your son move around. He sighed softly.

This was the life he wanted. To lay beside you, holding you and his son. Peaceful, comfortable, so full of love, and happy. It wasn’t long before your eyes got heavy and you fell asleep. Jensen laid beside you listening to your soft snores. He smiled listening to you and holding your belly. Jensen eventually got up, slipping out of bed trying not to disturb you. 

He walked downstairs and cleaned up lunch. He sent Jared a text to let him know how the appointment went and to get one of his pep talks about being a dad. Jensen was over the moon excited, but he was nervous too. Jared told him the feelings he was having were normal and he was going to be an incredible father. He didn’t want to worry you with his insecurities, so he was thankful he had Jared to talk to. 

You woke up a few hours later and got out of bed. You walked in the bathroom to pee and as you took your pants down a rush of warm liquid rushed out. “Shit! I peed myself.” You said out loud. Frustrated, you started to clean up yourself and the floor. You got on dry clothes and started to walk downstairs. As you walked you kept feeling liquid coming out. 

You quickly realized your water broke. Calmly walking downstairs you walked over to Jensen who was sitting on the couch on his computer. “Hey sweetheart, enjoy your nap?” He looked up. He saw the look on your face and immediately jumped up. “What’s wrong?” “Um, my water broke. I think we need to go to the hospital.” 

Jensen grabbed his shoes, your hospital bag, and his keys. He helped you to the car and helped you in. “Text Jared and Gen and let them know, please. Text your parents and mine too. Tell them I’ll pay for a plane ticket so they can be here.” Jensen said as he drove towards the hospital. You called your doctor and she said she’d meet you at the hospital. Jared, your parents and Jenen’s all said they would come to the hospital. Your parents were hoping on the next available plane. 

Pulling up to the hospital, Jensen jumped out and ran inside to get a wheelchair and a nurse. He returned and helped you into the chair. Your contractions had started shortly after your water broke and you could tell they were getting stronger. “It’s okay Y/N, just breathe. You’ve got this baby.” You could tell he was slightly panicking. “Jens, honey, it’s going to be okay. Look at me baby.” You grabbed his hand trying to reassure him. 

Once in the room you were prepped and the doctor came in to check you. “How are you feeling, Y/N?” “Okay, the contractions are getting stronger and it hurts like hell.” “That’s to be expected. We can give you something for the pain if you want.” “Doc, is everything okay with the baby? Isn’t it too early?” Jensen asked. “It is a little early according to her due date, but rest assured your baby is measuring good and doesn’t appear to be in distress. We could have miscalculated the due date, or he might just simply be a little impatient.” She chuckled. You giggled “Can’t imagine where he gets that from.” Jensen kissed your forehead and smiled at you. “I think I know, maybe his mama.”

Several hours passed and your labor progressed. Jensen had stepped out of the room to update the family that was waiting in the waiting room. Your parents, his, Jared and Gen were waiting. “Guys, I don’t know how long this is going to be. Why don’t y'all just head to the house and I’ll call you when he’s here. Mom, dad, Mr & Mrs. Y/L/N, we have the guest rooms set up for you already. There should be extra towels in the bathrooms. Feel free to make yourselves at home.” Jensen hugged everyone and went back in the room to check on you.

You had finally fallen asleep and he stood at the door looking at you with so much love and adoration in his eyes. Seeing you laying there in the bed, getting ready to have his son made his heart swell. A twinge of guilt crept in when he thought about how he hadn’t asked you to marry him yet. Here you were, carrying his son, giving him the most precious gift there was and he hadn’t done something he’d wanted to do since the day he met you. 

He had an idea and sent Jared a text asking to help him out. He was more than eager to help. You woke up seeing Jensen smiling while on his phone. “What’s got you smiling like that?’ You asked him softly. “Just talking to Jared and he’s being his encouraging self. You know how sappy he is.” Jensen stood up and walked over, kissing you on the lips. Another contraction hit and he held your hand helping you breathe through it. The pain was so bad.

The nurse came in about 15 minutes later to check your progress. “How are you feeling?” “Um, honestly not good. I’m hurting really bad. I know labor isn’t supposed to be easy, but something just feels off.” You told her hesitantly. “Okay, let’s check you out.” She lifted the sheet, put on a glove and checked you. When she went to check you, you screamed in pain. Jensen’s eyes went wide. “What the fuck are you doing to her?!?” he demanded. 

The nurse went almost pale and said she’d be back. Jensen looked nervous. “What’s wrong Jens? What did you see?” “Let’s wait for the doctor.” Jensen said without looking directly at you. His eyes on the fetal monitor. The doctor came in quickly and lifted the sheet. She didn’t touch you and looked between you and Jensen. 

“Okay, Y/N. Looks like the little guy is in a little bit of distress so we need to get him out ASAP. We are going to wheel you in for an emergency c-section. Mr. Ackles, if you could follow the nurse we will get you ready to go in the operating room with us.” He started to protest, the doctor put her hand on his shoulder and said quietly, “Mr. Ackles, she is hemorrhaging. If we don’t get him out now they both will die. I will do everything I can to save them both. Right now I need you to go get ready so I can get her ready. I need you to be calm so she can stay calm. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” Jensen shook his head with tears in his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll see you soon baby.” “I love you too, Jensen.” The doctor and nurses hurried around you and wheeled you down the hall. You were terrified. “Please tell me what’s going on. Is my baby okay?” You asked as you started to cry. The gurney stopped and a drape was put up. An oxygen mask was put on you and you could feel your bottom half going numb. You closed your eyes praying to whatever god was listening that your baby would be okay. Tears fell out of the corners of your eyes.

You felt Jensen’s fingers wipe them away. He kissed your forehead. “Hey baby. You’re okay. They are going to take good care of you.” He spoke so calmly. “Jens, what’s wrong with the baby?” You sobbed. “Shhh, it’s okay baby. The doctor said everything is okay. You’re just bleeding and they need to get him out.” You felt pressure and pulling in your abdomen. You couldn’t see anything and you heard the doctors and nurses talking softly. “Time: 22:35.” You heard them say. You felt woozy. “Jens…I…” Your eyes started to close and you thought you heard the faint cry of a baby. Then you heard and felt nothing.

Jensen looked over and saw his son. He was crying and had a good set of lungs. As he turned back to you he heard alarms going off. Before he could ask what was going on the nurse was ushering him out of the room. “Mr. Ackles, you’re going to have to step outside.” She gently pushed him out the door. “What’s going on, please tell me!” He shouted. 

The nurse closed the door leaving Jensen in the hallway. He heard a commotion inside the room and then “code blue, operating room 3.” Jensen looked up above the door and saw the number 3. He collapsed against the wall and hit the ground. He was in a daze and had no idea how he dialed his phone. On instinct he called Jared. 

“Hey man, am I an uncle yet? (silence) Jensen, buddy you there? (silence) Jensen, man what’s wrong?” “Jar, there was a complication. Baby is fine but…” Jensen sobbed and dropped his phone. Jared hung up and told Gen what happened. On their way out the door Gen called Jensen’s parents and told them. They and your parents got in the car and headed to the hospital. 

By the time Jared got to Jensen he was still on the floor sobbing. No updates had been given yet. Jared’s heart broke when he saw Jensen. “Come on man. Let’s get you in the waiting room.” Jared tried to get his friend up but Jensen pushed back. “No! What if they need me? What if she needs me?” “Jensen, come on. They will find you. Let’s get you in the waiting room. I’ll get you a coffee.” “I don’t want a fucking coffee. I want her to be okay! I want to tell her how much I love her and how much I want to marry her. Damn it! Why didn’t I ask her already?! Now she’s gone and I can’t ask her. How is our son going to know what an amazing mother he had?! I can’t do this without her, Jared!” Jensen collapsed in Jared’s arms sobbing. 

He walked his friend to the waiting room and when Jensen’s mom and your mom saw him they both broke down. They ran to his side and threw their arms around him. Holding him up as they sobbed. 

Hours passed and there still weren’t any updates. Jared started to get antsy. “Gen, surely they can tell us something.” She nodded and got up, approaching the desk. “Excuse me ma’am. I need to check on my sister, Y/N Y/L/N. She had an emergency c-section and we haven’t heard anything else since they made her fiancé leave the room.” Gen flashed her sweet smile and the nurse at the desk told her she would check. The nurse came back and spoke softly “The baby is okay, he’s being evaluated and should be able to see dad soon. Miss Y/L/N, coded several times on the table and was given a lot of blood. I’m trying to get a doctor to come out and give you more information. I’m sorry I don’t have anything else.” Gen thanked her and walked away.

“Jar, she said the baby is okay and Jensen should be able to see him soon. Y/N coded several times and lost a lot of blood. She’s getting the doctor to come out here and tell us more. Just then your doctor approached Jensen looking solemn. Jensen sprang to his feet and everyone gathered around him. “How is she, doctor? How’s my son?” He asked softly. 

Your baby boy is perfectly healthy. We wanted to keep him in the NICU for a few hours to evaluate him, but he’s doing great. You can see him in a minute. He weighed 7lbs and 5 oz, and was 21” long.” Jared grabbed Jensen’s shoulder. “How’s Y/N?” his breath hitched. “She hemorrhaged and lost a lot of blood. She coded on the table 4 times. We were able to revive her, we’ve given her blood and now we have to wait. She’s stable at the moment, but not out of the woods yet. Her placenta detached, which caused the bleeding. The next 24-48 hours will be the hardest. She can have visitors, but one at a time. I will warn you, she’s very pale and we had to intubate her. She’s not awake. You’ve got yourself a tough woman there, Mr. Ackles. From the amount of blood and the length of the tear, it would seem her placenta detached a while before we found it. She had to be in serious pain. Now, let’s get you to your son.” 

Jensen’s dad thanked the doctor and everyone hugged Jensen. “Go see your son. We will be here waiting for you.” Jensen walked with the doctor to the NICU. She walked him over to the crib his son was in. He was sleeping peacefully. “Go ahead, you can pick him up.” She said smiling. Jensen carefully picked up his son and his heart filled with so much love and joy. A tear slipped down his cheek. “Hey little guy. It’s me, Daddy. Welcome to the world. You definitely gave mommy and me a little scare, but we are so glad you’re here now.” 

The doctor told Jensen he could take his son to meet the family if he wanted to. He nodded enthusiastically. He cradled his son in his strong arms and walked to their waiting family. When they saw Jensen they were on their feet. Pictures were taken, oohs and awws were exchanged. Jensen beamed with pride. There was a heavy sadness in their air as everyone kept thinking about you. “Well Jensen, did you two pick out a name yet?” His dad asked. “We did. I would like to introduce you to Tristan Dmitri Ackles.” It took Jared a minute to realize you and Jensen named your son after him. 

“Wow, man. I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe you named him after me and Misha.” Jared hugged him. “Can I hold him?” Jared asked. Jensen smiled and handed the baby to Jared. Tears fell down Jared’s face. Jared beamed with pride. He handed the baby back to Jensen. “I need to get this little guy back so I can check on his mama.Y’all go home and I’ll call you if I need anything or if anything changes” Jensen’s mom kissed his forehead and your mom hugged him. “Tell our girl we love her.” she said softly. Jensen nodded and left. 

After taking the baby back to the nursery the nurse led him to your room. He took a deep breath before walking inside. His breath hitched when he saw you. You were hooked up to all these monitors and you had a tube down your throat. You were very pale. He pulled a chair beside your bed and sat down holding your hand. “I’m here baby. Our son is absolutely beautiful. He looks just like you, except he has my eyes. I know you’re happy about that. He’s perfect. Ten fingers and ten toes. You did amazing baby. Now I need you to keep fighting. Come back to us. We need you, he needs you, I need you! I love you so much, baby. Please don’t leave me.”

Jensen silently sobbed while he held your hand. He focused on your chest rising and falling and the steady sound of the machine beeping. As long as he saw that and heard the beeps he knew you were still here. 

A few hours later Jensen was still watching you in silence. The nurses would come in and check on you and ask him if he needed anything. He always politely declined, saying he didn’t need anything. They would bring Tristan in so Jensen could hold him and feed him. They also thought it would help you if you heard him or felt him close. Jensen took very good care of Tristan and found the moments he spent with him to be some of the happiest he had. When it was time for him to go back to the nursery, Jensen took back up his post of watching you. 

Exhaustion finally got the better of Jensen and he laid his head down on the side of your bed and fell asleep. He was startled awake by the sounds of the alarms going off and the nurses rushing in. “Mr. Ackles, we need you to step outside.” “No! Fuck that! Last time I did I didn’t hear anything for hours.” He yelled. “Sir, please, you don't want to see this.” Jensen froze in his spot and couldn’t move. He looked at the monitor and your heart had stopped. “No! Not again, please! Y/N, don’t leave me! Please!” Jensen sobbed as a male nurse was removing him from the room. Jensen tried to push his way back into the room but the nurse stopped him. “Mr. Ackles, please let us do our job. We need you out of there so we can try to save her.” He stood his ground refusing to let Jensen through. Jensen collapsed “Please, she’s everything to me. You have to save her. Please. I’ll give you anything, do anything. Please just save her.” Jensen sobbed. 

Tags: @nescaveckdaily  @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl

@hobby27 @manicjk @stoneyggirl2 @stoneyggirl2

[butch--dean]

THATS WHERE HE BELONGS!!!

I need to chew on him

[ada7201]

Hii! It's the anon that requested for the Layla reader. How are you doing? Hope you feel good! Can I ask for a part 2 of the Layla reader? You pictured her spot on! I want it to be with the other players like shidou or rin and maybe Kaiser and ness (only if you want ofc!) Not forcing any of this so do it at your own pace but it would really make my day if you would! :)

hi! i’d love to do this for you, im sorry i didn’t add all the characters you wanted before and i’m glad i was able to write the character good. im doing good, and thank you!

also, i had no idea how to include kaiser and ness into this but still wanted to write for them, i’ve decided to split this into 2 parts. so i’ll write part 3 a little later (≧∀≦)

༄ part 1 ༄ part 2 ༄ part 3 on the way

bllk boys x sleepy reader, like layla!

Shidou and Rin edition

𖣘 part 1 𖣘 part 2 𖣘 part 3 on the way!

note: end is a bit rushed. i wanted to finish this quickly, and had like no ideas. characters might be ooc. next part might come out in a day depending on how many ideas I get. also, im going somewhere tomorrow so i might not have that much time to write. ( ´△｀) but, i promise im working hard on finishing everyone’s requests!

i love seeing you guys ask for stuff, so don’t be afraid to request things, please（╹◡╹）♡

“where’s y/n?!”

“sleeping.”

“again?”

Rin sighed, yes, you were sleeping again. he shot a glare to the player, before looking back at the screen. he had to watch this match.

you were fast asleep in the cafeteria, after a long night of drawing on a notebook that was supposed to be for becoming a better striker.

it’s not your fault that you got bored, right?

“who’s that girl?” Shidou would hum to himself, taking long strides over to where your body was folded onto the table.

that looked pretty uncomfortable.

so, being the kind man he is, Shidou decided to pick you up roughly and throw you over his shoulder!

your eyes had prominent eye bags, and you seemed sick. it would be the right thing to do!

you gasped at being woken up, and quite literally manhandled onto someone’s shoulder.

“what do you think you’re doing?!” you’d screen to the unknown man, thrashing around.

well, you’re quite lively now, aren’t you?

“you’re sick.” he grins, patting your leg “soothingly” as if he wasn’t basically abducting you.

when he finally let you go, you were quick to get back your team’s room.

“hello y/n.” Rin would say, sharp eyes still glued to the screen like some sort of phone addict.

he had gotten used to you appearing in the room at sudden times.

today was one of the typical break days you had at blue lock, where you all are granted a sweet day of freedom.

not many stayed at blue lock, with the majority of the players choosing to get outside and breathe some fresh air, experiencing the outside world.

although, you don’t usually get picked up by some random tall man in the middle of your nap.

moving on, you sat beside Rin to peer down at his screen, looking for something to distract you.

the day went by pretty fast, unfortunately - and night soon fell.

Rin had decided to go to bed, saying he needed to rest because there was a match coming up.

he was a bit skeptical with letting you stay awake, but he decided on simply allowing you to.

he wasn’t in the middle to argue with you, anyways.

for the rest of the night, you played around with the screen, somehow managing to change the channel and catch up on your favorite show.

that was, until Ego hacked back in and glared at you.

you couldn’t tell what his motive was, as he simply eyes you either his slim fingers laced together.

you stared back, raising a questioning eyebrow at his creepy gaze.

“what are you doing.” he asked, voice low.

“nothing.” you respond, hoping he’d buy your lie.

“go to fucking sleep, y/n.” was all he said, before the screen shut off.

aw, you were just getting to the good part of your show, what a shame.

however, you did as he said, deciding sleeping would be a better option than loosing your soccer career.

you cuddled yourself back into the sheets, eyes shutting soon after.

the morning came soon after, with you being awoken by the sound of … someone yelling, and a monotone voice?

“come on, let me see her!” Shidou would plead, eyes begging as he stood in the doorway.

Rin simply shook his head, folding his arms as he stood in the way on the blonde male.

“what’s up?” you’d mumble, voice hoarse and scratchy from your sudden wake.

“aw, helloooo!” Shidou would coo, a toothy grin on his face as he pushed past Rin to hug you.

“you still look as sick as ever!” he giggled.

“excuse me?!”

Rin sighed. “what time did you sleep, y/n?”

“um… 3, maybe?” you hum curiously, ignoring the way Shidou squished and pet your body as if you were a stuffed toy.

a sick stuffed toy?

“3?” Rin asks, eyes narrowing menacingly.

you gulp.

“blonde hair, run!” you squeal, and Shidou quickly obeys.

he rushed out of the door, hugging you right as Rin chased after the two of you.

[nanowrimo]

10 Ways to Turn Revision Into an Adventure

For some of us, revision may be your next big challenge during Camp. Sounds a little intimidating, doesn’t it? Well, have no fear! NaNo participant Madison Vaughn-Parra is here to make revision fun! So… you’ve got yourself a first draft. Perhaps it’s years worth of work, or perhaps it was the product of the frenzied rush that is National Novel Writing Month. Either way, you’ve deemed it a complete work, which means only one thing: it’s ready for revision.

Did you picture lightning striking on a dark and stormy night when reading the big “R” word? If so, you’re not alone! For many, revision is even more intimidating than dreaming up a novel from scratch. If writing a first draft was an adventure of epic proportions, then revising that same draft is a slog through already-explored terrain, right?

Wrong! I’ve found that revision can be just as grand of an adventure as writing 50K in 30 days! To prove it, I’d like to share ten ways you can turn your revision journey from a dreaded duty into an exciting adventure:

1. First things first: make a copy of your first draft, and then don’t touch the original! You don’t want your adventure bogged down by regrets, after all, and having an untouched first draft will ensure that if you’re unhappy with any changes, you’ll always have the original to fall back on.

2. Be prepared! Just as you wouldn’t want to forget your socks and undies, you’re going to want to pack everything you need to help you on your revision adventure. NaNoWriMo’s “Now What?” revision guide should come in handy, for starters!

3. Take a trip off the beaten path and explore all of the “What If’s”, no matter how wild they might seem. What if you added to the chemistry of your main characters and turned your action-adventure novel into a full-blown romance? What if the murder mystery mastermind was the other guy? The possibilities are endless!

4. Go on a hunt to find the most hilarious typos born from the fever-induced ramblings of the NaNo mind, and share them with your writing group for laughs!

5. Make it a game! For example, does your novel have a character who keeps disappearing from scenes they’re supposed to be in? (Mine was a tiny dragon named Mouse…) Every time you write that character back into a scene, reward yourself with a treat for “finding” them!

6. Gleefully chop away at tangents, plot twists, and descriptions you included in your first draft simply for word count. No one can stop you from backspacing now!

7. Try new tools! Is there any better feeling than using a brand new travel accessory for the first time? That’s how I felt when I first tried Scrivener’s split-screen feature and discovered just how fun it made revision. Why not check out NaNoWriMo’s offers page to see if any new tools spark your excitement?

8. Delight in discovering passages that you have absolutely no memory of writing! If you’re anything like me, there will be quite a few of them, and you’ll find you can improve them with the ease of editing someone else’s writing.

9. Capture your favorites! Create a “Snapshots” document or folder and fill it with all the first draft passages that you got right the first time. If you start feeling discouraged during revising, simply pull up these snapshots and remind yourself of your own genius!

10. If you really want to capture the NaNo spirit, try rewriting your novel from start to finish without even glancing at your first draft. This trick terrifies me, personally, but I know folks who swear by it! Congratulations! You’re now ready for your revision adventure! Pack up your bags, be kind to yourself, and have fun exploring your novel again. I’ll be right there with you!

Madison Vaughn-Parra is a lifelong writer and passionate geek, who technically works a corporate job in program management but prefers to spend her time in fantasy and science-fiction worlds of her own creation. She’s happily lost in the woods of her own revision adventure at the moment and hoping to dive into the publishing process next. She rarely posts on Twitter, but you can still follow her @vaughn__boyage if you’d like! Header Photo by Leah Kelley from Pexels

[kiawren]

Two nights ago at 3am I was dreading school as usual and started to write something lighthearted then I got a bit absorbed into it lol...mostly copy pasted what I wrote that night with a few small edits. Dw it's pretty easy to read cuz dialogue comes easier to me so it's all dialogue.

Wren: Have you ever dreamt of me?

Kiawe: That’s a sudden question… Yes, I have.

Wren: Was it a good dream?

K: I dreamt we were riding charizards together once.

W: wait, really???? I dreamt that too!

K: Seriously?!

W: wow, we are so made for each other.

K: was there other times you…dreamt of…me…

W: uhm, it’s mostly a blur and illogical as dreams are. But I think I did feel my feelings of crushing on you in my dreams like maybe twice. I think i hugged you in one of them. And that was before we ever hugged at all.

K: Oh…that’s nice.

W: Uh, what about you. Did you dream of me other times?

K: Yeah, i was teaching you to dance, at the top of the volcano. I think… we fell in the volcano, and then i woke up.

W: I’d like to fall in the volcano with you.

K: No..!! If that ever happens I’ll catch you. But that will never happen.

W: Huh? By calling over your charizard fast enough?

K: Uh, yes…

W: We can do it as a fierce declaration of our love.

K: ……

W: Okay, or we could just dance. Oh, did you have any bad dreams of me?

K: Other than the falling in the volcano?

W: Hey That is really beautiful and I don’t count that as a bad dream. I wish i dreamt that.

K: I was actually kind of apprehensive to meet you at the volcano that evening. 

W: But seriously though, that is so poetic. Maybe we could stand at the tip and feel the heat together.

K: WREN! PLEASE! 

W: OKAY I was Kiddingggg… (but I’m gonna write about it)

K: So, the bad dream…

W: Oh yeah

K: I don’t know, i just dreamt you left. I don’t remember much of it. But i saw you leave on a ferry. I was at the pier and then at the top of the volcano.

W: wow you really like the volcano so much. Wanna jump in together? Ok sorry continue

K: …… You’re going to leave eventually, though.

W: … Um, I mean…that’s still in a while. And it’s not like we won’t see each other again.

K: I wish i could follow you where you go.

W: I don’t think you should be the one saying that… I’m supposed to follow you. I’m not even joking.

K: I’ll still be in Alola when you leave.

W: I mean…. I don’t know, I don’t really think much about the future—

K: Exactly. You don’t, Wren. So how do I know for sure we won’t stray? You’re going to leave and not come back—

W: ??? Who says I wont??

K: I just— the future is so uncertain… It makes me so worried.

W: Just so you know. I want to be with you more than you want to be with me. In case you didn’t know. I feel like I don’t say much of this enough, but I always think it. Like, you don’t know how much I think it.

K: Really...? But you were fine before you met me.

W: Doesn’t that apply to you too?

K: N-No. Without you… I’d still be worried about the future. You encourage me with optimism…But it mostly works when it comes to my dancing and my future studies. What's really different is that you're in the picture... and when it comes to you,… how do I know what exactly you’re thinking?

W: You think I’m not transparent enough?

K: In a way. I-

W: Sorry, I guess i don’t really say it. Do you really worry I’ll leave you?

K: I mean, I dreamt it so I must have…thought it.

W: the topic took such a bleak turn.

K: Sorry, Wren…

W: It’s okay, I understand what you think. I don’t really know the future either, but I promise to tell you earlier when I’m going...I also don’t want to leave at all. But, I guess, we both still have each other now, so we can focus on the present?

K: You're right, Wren. Thanks.

W: But, if you want better reassurance, I have a proposal. As a declaration of our eternal bond and inseparation, to make you never worry of us parting again not only in body but also spirit, how about we jump into the volcano together?

Kiawe just smiles softly. Wren does the same.

Behind them, Wela Volcano's soft fumes trail silently into the red-ochre sky.

Its umber body is indomitable as love, monument of an Earth where the circles of selves meet, weave, and travel with time for two young lovers.

[sarcastic-pasta-games]

Updates on Glitch:

Sushi and I came back to the team to talk about its future and what to do. With some rearranging of the events, we think we can simplify the game a lot while still telling the story we ultimately want to tell, but it’s possible it will be a trilogy, as finishing the game may mean making it a bit shorter. That being said, we will still give you time to get to know the new egos who come with this chapter and, of course, Sushi and I will be helping out with the writing and I have every intention of writing the finale myself exactly as I planned it.

Some new games have been added to chapter 3 (or what chapter 3 originally covered), which requires some time to set up, but that actually gave us time to program in some rather impressive Cuphead-like battles. Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to share any pictures right now, but it’s looking good so far.

Updates on Truth and Consequences:

I’ve made it to the first trial of the third case! I had to pause for a bit because this case required a sheepish face for Athena and I didn’t have one, but I plan to get right back into it. At this pace, I’m expecting it to be finished relatively soon, but these cases take a very long time to make and this is the first multi-day one I’ve ever done, so there’s a lot to consider.

Oh and you didn’t think I’d end this little update without showing you that sheepish Athena face, did you? This is edited into the first case, but you can rest assured that you will see it and one other custom facial expression in this case.

Final thoughts:

I noticed that a lot of people have unfollowed us on our platforms, and I suppose it makes sense if you’re not interested in Ace Attorney, but we are still working on Glitch. As I told someone today, I can’t control the dopamine. This is the project my heart needed to work on. But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to see Glitch through to the end. It’s just that the strain of directing such a large project was getting to me while T&C doesn’t require a major team. It’s very much my game, not quite a solo project but almost entirely written by me and I’m very pleased with it.

So if you enjoy games like Danganronpa or Zero Escape or Your Turn to Die, please give Ace Attorney a look! It’s well worth it, particularly the trilogy. Had Jack actually played the series, perhaps there’d be more interest, but he never got around to it (his loss) so I’m doing my best but I know there isn’t a huge overlap in audiences. I do want to hear from you guys though. What are your thoughts on this? Are you upset I’m working on a different game or because progress has been slow?

I don’t want to disappoint you all, but I also don’t want to put all my time and effort on something I don’t feel passionate about, and that was starting to stress me out.

~Dev Lily (Katie)

[paarksunghoon]

hello! i loved the writing tips you gave a while back and was wondering if you wouldn’t mind giving any more you think are helpful!

https://paarksunghoon.tumblr.com/tagged/tips for reference

thx in advance!

hi! so glad you found that helpful and I can absolutely provide some more writing tips. writing is vast and I can do my best to provide some general ones but if you have any questions about anything specifically, I’d be happy to provide tips for that as well.

find the first ask here

1. I said it in my other ask but I’ll say it again: you do not have to start every body of work by describing the weather. this used to be my go to way of starting a draft but I find that it tends to make my writing stagnant and boring unless I can explain why I included it.

for example: The dark and stormy night makes the wooden door beneath the rug creak when the wind blows against the house. The door is locked, preventing you from entering the forbidden basement that’s been there for as long as you can remember. It’s nights like this when you feel tempted to take a peek downstairs because anything would be better than hearing the branches of tall trees knock loudly against the windows.

your reader doesn’t need to know the setting right off the bat necessarily. details aré important but you don’t need to explain why X is the way it is unless it’s important to the story. you could throw it haphazardly in a description and that would do you well too.

2. if you’re going to write a story that’s plot-heavy, think about what you might want to say. having plot means understanding the motivation of your characters and why they do/say things. what is your plot about and how does that affect the characters you’re including in your story? sub plots are also useful to enrich the main plot. consider adding this to make a well rounded story (there are many ways to do this, let me know and I can expand on the different types and why it’s helpful).

3. this model (The Hero’s Journey by Joseph Campbell) is a useful guide for an outline and it doesn’t have to be related to fantasy genres. I don’t use it as religiously as I used to but I find that it helped me try to map out my plots and the motivations of why a character needs to do something in order for the story to progress. See model below:

4. you don’t have to make your character likable. if you’re sticking with fanfics, Y/N does not have to be prim and proper, nor do they need to be universally liked in order for your story to be good. reader inserts don’t have to be relatable either. you can make this character awful and unreliable. you can also do the opposite, but it all depends on what you want your character to be.

5. editing is just as important as writing (and it’s not just for catching typos and plot holes). sometimes I find that I want to take story in a different direction when I edit a scene (in the case of this fic, there were three plots before it became what it is now). changes are inevitable and can strength your story too.

6. the ending of your story is important. you might not know what you want to say when you began a draft (that’s okay! a first draft isn’t supposed to be perfect). editing can help guide this once you’ve written your story. there are many different types as well, including:

• vagueness - cliffhangers

• moral of the story - a line that you want your readers to takeaway

• loop - circling back to the beginning of your story

it all depends on what you want.

7. I don’t know if this next tip will be particularly helpful to anyone but me (lol) but when I write dialogue, I think about how I’d write this if it were a script. with written work like fics, I can explain my setting in the description and go in depth about a character through backstory. I can’t do that when I write screenplays because what matters is the dialogue.

I say this because I used to have a hard time writing dialogue that felt natural, and now I picture myself writing a script where I have to use dialogue as a way to communicate things without over communicating. if a character says something, I look back and ask myself if I’ve let them talk too much unnecessarily. if the answer is yes, then I cut some dialogue. if the answer is no, I keep it in.

these are tips from my experience writing and do not necessarily reflect a universal opinion. thank you for asking and I hope this helps!

[albertonykus]

You Wouldn’t Really Know Shizuka from the Doraemon Movies

If you’ve experienced enough Doraemon media, you’ve probably noticed that the movies tend to emphasize the main characters’ positive qualities, which often paints a very different picture of them from the regular manga and episodes. The contrast is especially noticeable with Nobita, Gian, and Suneo, who in the mainline series are frequently cast as anti-role models to show children how not to behave.

Shizuka, on the other hand, is already kind and morally upstanding by default, so it’s only natural for the movies to continue portraying her that way. That makes Shizuka pretty much the same between the regular series and the movies, right? I would argue not exactly, and unfortunately her character in the movies suffers for it.

It’s not that the movies never characterize Shizuka well. She’s had very important roles in some of them: in my reviews, I counted at least eight films in which her actions are critical to resolving the plot. Certainly one can gather from the movies that she’s compassionate, quick-witted, brave, and adventurous, and all of these things are true about Shizuka in the mainline series.

However... if you only watched the movies, you might not realize that Shizuka also enjoys messing with other people for fun...

... or can be very blunt towards her friends...

... or participates in schemes to get even with people who have wronged her...

[A short time later...]

... or becomes disproportionately violent when she’s upset (“Janie” being one of her dolls)...

... or lies to get out of things she doesn’t want to do.

(If any of this seems like it conflicts with Shizuka’s usual characterization, I don’t think it does. When I was Shizuka’s age, I was also a “good kid” who stayed out of trouble and got along with most of my peers, and I still did every one of these things.)

From the movies alone, you might even miss that Shizuka is supposed to be bad at playing the violin, which is her one “flaw” that the franchise likes to highlight with any regularity. Her violin playing has shown up in two movies so far (Nobita and the Knights on Dinosaurs and Nobita and the Kingdom of Clouds), but only in very brief scenes where we don’t see anyone else reacting to it. (Edit: I’d forgotten that she also plays the violin in The New Record of Nobita’s Spaceblazer. There, it is a similar situation in which she is only seen practicing alone. She is finally shown playing in front of an audience during the end credits of Nobita’s Sky Utopia, which I hadn’t had a chance to see when I first wrote this post.)

Of course, there are other ways to add dimensionality to a character besides giving them flaws. However, Shizuka in the movies almost never exhibits quirks of any kind, except maybe for being just a bit too obsessed with bathing. (Now that they rarely neglect to include in the movies, for some reason...)

In the main series, Shizuka is often the voice of reason who is strung along by the foolishness and craziness of the others around her, but she still gets her kicks. When the kids test out Doraemon’s Mysterious Trash Chute, there’s the implication that she goes the extra mile to throw in a concrete beam. (As far as I know, none of the animated adaptations of this story have included this particular detail, which is disappointing.)

There’s also the time she hesitates to partake in karaoke, only to have trouble putting down the mic once her turn comes around.

Even the manga counterparts to the movies sometimes contain facets of Shizuka’s character that weren’t adapted into the films themselves. (Perhaps that’s not a surprise considering that the original author had a more direct hand in the manga.) Nobita’s Three Visionary Swordsmen is already one of the best movies when it comes to Shizuka’s portrayal, but if you’ve never read the manga version, you probably wouldn’t have known that she aspires to be a diplomat working for world peace.

Then there’s this moment in Nobita and the Tin Labyrinth, where she makes a bet with Suneo over whether Nobita is lying to them. This conversation does happen in the movie, but the film version doesn’t quite get across just how smug Shizuka looks when she takes that bet.

And check out how pleased she is to be eventually proven right! (This expression didn’t make it into the movie either.)

Nobita in the Robot Kingdom was not written by the original manga author, but I’ve discussed before how the manga version of that story gave Shizuka an important part that was unfortunately cut out of the film.

Is this really a problem? After all, it’s well established that the other main characters in the movies don’t act exactly like they normally do in the manga either. With the others, however, subverting their usual roles is precisely what gives them character depth. Relegating Shizuka solely to being “the nice one”, which she already comes across as most of the time, makes her feel much more static by comparison.

An understandable concern is that swinging the pendulum too far in another direction might erode Shizuka’s kind image, but this need not be the case. Like anyone else, nice people can say and do some very un-nice things, and the trick for a storyteller is to interrogate what might lead them to act in such a way. I think the Nobita in the Robot Kingdom manga does this very well, but an example found in the films themselves can be seen in Nobita and the Steel Troops.

In this movie, (SPOILERS) Shizuka rescues a severely damaged robot spy, Riruru, and works on nursing her back to health. After Riruru explains the history of the robot society that she belongs to, Shizuka observes its parallels to human history. However, Riruru, who is still operating under a belief in robot supremacy, takes offense to this comparison and tries to shoot Shizuka, which results in Shizuka expressing regret and bitterness over having saved her in the first place. Shizuka gets over this very quickly and it’s not explored much further, but this still a rare deconstruction of her role as “the nice one”. Sometimes, being kind is hard.

Overly-long story short, it would be nice if the Doraemon movies let Shizuka do more “bad” (or mischievous, or just plain weird) things, especially for the sake of good.

[jichanxo]

hey i'm back to be annoying about sensei fic i don't remember if you've talked about that before (i think you did), and also i'm afraid that it may be considered as a spoiler (?), but! how much of amasawa and itokura's story will you include here? (they are very important to me, your honour) (the potential of parallels to kwgm is here as well and everything)

never annoying! I’m enjoying writing my paragraphs of rambling, so thank you more under the cut again lol. spoilers for lost judgment and also my own fic i suppose lmao

this is kind of difficult to answer because I don’t want to overpromise anything… I am unfortunately a “fuck it we ball” writer which means I am not really used to planning anything at all really (which is why I write mostly oneshots. I usually write everything blind) and that means that while I have ideas about what I want to do, I can’t really say anything definitive until I feel out my plans more concretely…

for what it’s worth though, I’d be shocked if amasawa and itokura didn’t appear the most out of everyone (aside from yagami and kitakata), since the mrc is effectively the centrepiece of both plots: being the main reason kitakata and yagami see each other, and of course I’m going to try and make an altered version of the school story plot work here. I expect there’ll be more of them than kaito and sawa, certainly…

one of the planned major beats in the kuwagami plot is having yagami actually let kitakata in on the professor investigation and not just blow him off. he might think that kitakata will just get in the way, but he has to accept that kitakata’s interest in the investigation and care for his students is legitimate and valid! keeping him in the dark and ignoring how he feels is wrong! anyway. my point is, that to resolve this plot beat, it’s unavoidable to talk about itokura and the professor, so no matter how I end up getting there, itokura (and by extension amasawa) are going to be crucial. you’re right about the parallels angle too… gonna gnaw on that… gotta figure that out… kuwagami but if they were both girls and in highschool and more emotionally intelligent… the idea of kitakata and yagami being a mess and super lame while the kids in the club are much more put together? it’s just too funny to pass up on… I can already imagine itokura complaining to amasawa about how she wishes they would just grow up already.

amasawa and itokura are really great and I also like them a lot! there’s a lot of interesting stuff with them to grab onto, both with canon – yagami’s relationship to them both, and with new stuff – inventing new stuff for them with kitakata! itokura and kitakata especially feel like a surprisingly natural fit – kitakata who wants to make sure no student around him feels the way that kusumoto mitsuru did, and itokura who was estranged and pushed out of school by her peers… it’s a relationship that would be engaging and interesting to develop on both sides… I really can’t pass up on that… so thematically rich… I imagine their relationship rn as being kind of awkward and a little tense. they probably get along best when they’re talking (cough arguing cough) about mystery novels.

one of the things on my to-do list for sensei fic right now (aside from taking thorough notes on school stories and general editing) is definitely trying to feel out this relationship, in particular before yagami enters the picture (@/four-white-trees poked me about this ages ago. thank you!!) presumably kitakata doesn’t let all of that happen to itokura without trying to do something about it, right? and yet, he still fails. yagami’s intervention is the one that brings itokura back to school. hence why I imagine things between them being a little awkward… that shared history…

though I imagine that it piques kitakata’s interest that yagami succeeded where he’d previously failed. So yknow. This Too Is Kuwagami. A surefire way to make kitakata fall in love with you: 1. be hot 2. legitimately care about and take action for the wellbeing of students

anyway! while nothing is set in stone, that’s what I have in mind about amasawa and itokura right now… though most of it ended up being about itokura… there’s still a lot I gotta figure out, but I’m definitely looking forward to poking at them some more! Itokura’s attitude is going to be a lot of fun to write, and amasawa is always a delight, and I love having her be the voice of reason between kitakata and yagami when they’re being ridiculous lol. thank you for the ask o7

[the-himawari]

A3! Takato Tasuku - Translation [SSR] MANKAI Party (3/3)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Tasuku: Thanks coming today.

Taichi: WOAHH! You look hella cool, Tasuku-san~!

Itaru: Ooh, very nice.

Homare: I would love to capture this appearance on camera as well.

Taichi: He’s supposed to take a picture at the end of the event.

Tasuku: Right.

Taichi: Oh yeah. By the way, Tasuku-san, I heard you filmed the VLOG together with GODza!

Itaru: Homare-san was boasting about that.

Tasuku: Geez, he just goes off…

Homare: Is that not a good thing?

Taichi: Tasuku-san shot his VLOG with GODza… UuUh, that alone makes me wanna cry…!

Tasuku: Uh, that’s not something to cry over.

Taichi: Urgh. You don’t understand how big of a deal that is, Tasuku-san!

*knock, knock*

Izumi: Tasuku-san, everyone, it’s about time!

Tasuku: Yeah, got it.

-pause-

Tasuku: Everyone, thank you for coming today.

Guest A: Tasuku-san, happy birthday!

Guest B: Happy birthday, Tasuku-san!

Tasuku: Thanks. Alright, I’ll start by introducing my guests.

Taichi: Hey there. It’s your boy, Autumn troupe’s Nanao Taichi! Tasuku-san, happy, happy birthday!

Itaru: Spring troupe’s Chigasaki Itaru. Tasuku, happy birthday. Your outfit today looks very cool and it really suits you.

Homare: Arisugawa Homare of Winter troupe. Happy birthday, Tasuku-kun. Let us all celebrate to our heart’s content today.

Tasuku: Thanks for coming, you three. Alright, let’s get the first segment started right away.

Homare: It is the “VLOG viewing party” corner! Tasuku-kun’s VLOG was filmed by yours truly!

Taichi: Homare-san looks super smug!

Itaru: He was dying to say it, so that’s not surprising.

Tasuku: That guy… We shot the film with the theme of “a sight I want to show my fans”.

Homare: Without further ado, start the VLOG!

*applause*

-pause-

Itaru: Oh, it starts from the dorm’s front door?

Guest A: We get a feel for their regular lives like this. It’s nice…!

Guest B: I’m happy I get to see Tasuku-san’s every day, natural appearance~!

Taichi: I feel you guys! VLOGs that show someone’s natural side are nice, aren’t they?

Homare: Mhm, vindication. It is just as I said, Tasuku-kun.

Tasuku: I wasn’t actually planning to start it from there.

Itaru: From the looks of it… you couldn’t find a point to edit it?

Tasuku: Basically.

-pause-

Tasuku: “I was thinking of doing a street act here…”

Homare: “And then! We encountered these two by chance.”

Shift: “Hi! It’s Shift from GODza.”

Haruto: “Hello. I’m GODza’s Asuka Haruto.”

-pause-

Guest C: Two guys from GODza!?

Guest D: I never thought Haruto-kun and them would appear. Amazing…!

-pause-

Tasuku: “Working together, we can improve both our countries even more.”

Haruto: “Yes, agreed.”

Tasuku: “I look forward to the future that awaits us, brother.”

Haruto: “Hmph. I’ve told you over and over again that I don’t remember becoming your brother.” “…But I as well. I am looking forward to it. Gil.”

-pause-

Guest A: Wonderful…

Guest B: I never thought I’d be able to see them standing and acting on the same stage again after that collab performance…!

Taichi: T-this is the best~…! Eughh…!

Itaru: Here, Taichi. Use this tissue.

Taichi: Thanks…! *Sniff*…!

Homare: It is a tad vexing that the one next to you was Haruto-kun… However, it is a great performance no matter how many times I watch it.

Tasuku: Arisugawa… Yeah. I enjoyed that etude too.

-pause-

*applause*

Guest C: I was so moved… Tasuku-san and Haruto-kun’s performance was the best!

Guest D: I really love Tasuku-san’s acting…!

Tasuku: Thank you. When I heard the theme of the VLOG, what I thought I wanted to show everyone was me when I’m acting. The reason I was allowed to act in GODza’s theatre was because I happened to run into Haruto and Shift in Veludo City. It worked out because those two, and Reni-san, arranged it. To get to this point, my environment has changed from GODza to MANKAI Company… But if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed between then and now, it’s my love for acting. I am grateful to all the people who come watch my performances.

Guest A: I want to keep watching your plays from now on!

Guest B: I’ll always support your acting, Tasuku-san!

Tasuku: Thank you.

-pause-

Tasuku: We’re now approaching the end of the event.

Homare: That being said, it is Tasuku-kun’s photoshoot time!

Tasuku: Right. Would it be alright taking it around here?

Taichi: Hold on a second!

Tasuku: Huh…?

Taichi: You have a cool outfit on, so I want you to look as cool as you possibly can!

Itaru: He’s right. It’d be a waste simply taking it standing up. You gotta choose your pose and expression accordingly.

Taichi: Do it like you’re today’s star and like you're the man! Yep, that’s it! Gosh~, you look cool as hell~!

Homare: Then, with your permission, I shall take it for you.

Tasuku: S-sure… go ahead.

Homare: Tasuku-kun, here goes. …Say gorgonzola ♪

*click*

---

previous |

[papercutsunset]

Gold and Steel

Listen-- PMS has been kicking my ass and I forgot to edit this yesterday. Even now, I'm hunched over because (glitter here) the nausea's back. BUT!! The Bloodsaw brainrot is also back. This would take place right before Tunnels of Terror. (Also, peep the Harrison Bergeron mention. Remember how Bloodsaw died protecting him and then he died of [redacted]?)

WIP: The Monster Lesbian Support Group

Word count: 998

Prompt: Sex (didn't use it much. It's more implied)

Warnings: some homophobia stuff (mentions. it's 1997.)

Sitting on the edge of the bed with her sweater undone, Laura fumbles the chain of her cross. Putting it back around her neck is always an issue of fingers on lobster claws and chewed-down nails aching. She isn’t the one who needs to wash her hands, anyway. 

I would consider doing it for her, but I’m not sure why she wears it. It’s not faith. She told me that months ago, sitting on the hood of my car in a secluded spot by the edge of the lake where nobody could see us.

I know why, I suppose. It’s not a question worth asking. Appearances need to be kept up, right? Laura Mandarin needs to be the pristine, god-fearing former-high-school-cheerleader as much as Caroline Bradshaw needs to be the opposite. They would blame the fry cook at the Dairy Prince for corrupting such a vulnerable girl as Laura Mandarin. Never mind that all this was her idea. I know how the blame game works. It wouldn’t be the first time.

It’s a small thing, the cross. Delicate. Gold. Treasured. She got it when she was twelve, back in Pine Valley. How fitting, compared to the steel up my ears and in my eyebrow. 

I toy with the edge of the curtain, propped up on one elbow by the window. The plaster is crumbling again. It’s a side effect of living in this shitty second-floor-apartment with a shittier landlord in an even shittier town. I fucking hate this place. 

The only question worth asking, while I shrug my bra and shirt back on, is, “Do you need a ride?” 

She takes her hair out of the back of her sweater and lets the blonde waterfall cascade down white polyester. “Don’t you have to get to work?” 

“Don’t answer my question with a question.” 

Laura looks at me over her shoulder, eyes connecting across every plane of existence. “I don’t need a ride.” 

“Alright.”

“But I’d like one.” 

My heart skips a beat. I’m not going to admit it. “I’ll drive you home, then.” 

“Will you help me?” She holds up the cross, dangling from the gold chain, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. 

You could call me hypnotized. It’s a moment of intimacy in the dark of a room in the morning, a moment of intimacy before we go back to acting like nothing ever happened, a moment of hands brushing hair from her neck so I don’t catch it in the clasp. 

She’s the perfect picture of America. Not late-nineties-hip, but pure. Skirt down past her knees when she pulls it back down, sweater neat and tucked in, cross hanging delicately around her collar. It’s like these moments together that make things feel right: her hands in my hair, tangling black snarls around slender fingers, rings cast on the floor, the sheets tousled and left as askew as us. 

I move her hair back into place and lean around her, the snake around Eve’s torso. “You know, I don’t have to get to work for another hour.” 

She giggles when my fingers brush her chin. I melt in turn. But, in the way the routine dictates, she shimmies away. “I have to get home. You know my dad worries.” 

“He still thinks you’re seeing some guy named Bloodsaw.” 

“Yeah, and he isn’t stoked.” Laura stands, smooths out her skirt. When she turns around, she leans down over me with her hands squarely where she had been sitting. “But I am.” 

She plants a quick kiss on my mouth before I turn my legs and get out of bed, stretch myself out, and stare the day in front of me down the barrel. It’s a routine I’m used to. I wash my hands in the kitchen sink. Breakfast is peaches-and-cream oatmeal and toast with cream cheese. She does her makeup in the bathroom; I put on pants before we leave; she only entwines her fingers with mine when we’re alone in the hall or the stairwell. I’ll take what I can get, even if I want more. 

I drive her home to the sound of the scat station on the radio. We mostly listen to it as a joke, a merit patch for living here. It goes by all too quickly, and then we’re at her father’s— and then her hand is gone from my leg, and she’s out on the curb. 

She leans down to look at me through the window, hair falling to frame her face. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, but I’ll see you at the party later, right?” 

Right. That dumbfuck rich kid tunnel party I explicitly wasn’t invited to. I swallow. “Yeah, sure. I have to work, though, so I might be late.” 

“That’s fine. As long as you’re there.” She assesses my face, reads something I didn’t mean to write there. “I want you there, you know.” 

“I know. I’ll try.” It’s a promise I don’t mean to make. It rests on my tongue, anyway. 

“Good.” Her grin is May sunshine; I wish she would kiss my cheek. “Maybe we can sneak off, if we’re careful.” 

I can’t hold back a soft laugh. “With all your preppy friends around?” 

“Oh, Care. I know you like cheap beer, and there’s going to be plenty. Harrison promised.” 

Harrison, that fucker. Laura captivates me, though. That’s the issue with having a girlfriend you would do anything for. “Fuck. Fine. Okay.” 

Another ray through the clouds, lips wide over perfect white teeth. “Good! I’ll see you there.” 

She takes my hand in hers— gold-painted nails on steel rings through the window of a car I know is going to break down later. The blame game doesn’t work here. This is a moment where she didn’t watch her last boyfriend die; this is a moment where I don’t kill demons because angels told me to. There’s no blood on our hands and faces. It’s just us.

I want so desperately, it hurts. “I’ll see you there.” 

[shallowbreaths]

I always said, “I want to write you as a character in a story. You would be glorious.” I suppose my imagination somehow considered that the only way to write someone was to make a caricature of sorts, but when it comes to you, which aspects should I push to the forefront and how do I write a character around those things that fit? You are unique. For YEARS I have written, and written (as you know I have) in story, in poems, in everything. It was never right. Well, I finally did it. I’m writing you now, feverishly (only pausing for my hands to uncramp), and I was right!! You are glorious! I changed a detail here and there, but they were the irrelevant type. No matter what I’ve created it was always empty, it could never outshine the reality, so I caved. Of course, if I wrote you as you are, then I had to write me as I am. It’s the bizarre and unusual way that the two work well together. It’s disturbing, it’s painful, it’s real, and then I’ll let them fall into the story and become whoever it is that they are meant to be, just the way that you and I fell apart and have continued to change and grow. There’s no way for me to write who you are now, and it would be crazy if I thought I could. So I started us as we were, where I went wrong, and then I turned it a couple of degrees. I added a word here, or a phone call there, and I made it so instead of me running from my mistake and leaving you heartbroken and hurt and outraged, I faced it and we managed to work. Obviously from that point on it’s all fiction with a few private jokes thrown in, or an occasional detail that you may not even remember, but for me it’s like fireworks.

The true irony of writing is that you write for others to read, but it’s lonely work. You may write a thousand characters but it feels like fraud. They all come from my mind, so every single one of them is me unless I’m using my memories, and in that case I’m still just stealing. The bad guy is me. The monster is me. The hero is me. Even you are me as crazy as it sounds. It’s not you, it’s my memories of the things you said and did and how I perceived them, but you were private, so maybe you wouldn’t even recognize them now. How weird is that? Maybe you’d read it and get mad, or exasperated, or maybe you’d say, “I was born before that!” Or some other detail that I changed in order to make it a touch easier in some way. It’s not easy, but it’s beautiful work. It’s fun work. You know I have always enjoyed thinking about you and so far that’s all I’m doing, reliving memories that make me happy in hindsight even if at some points we both felt broken and miserable. I have ulterior motives of course. I’m trying to explain myself. I’m hoping you’ll see it and love it. I remember telling you one day you’d see a book written under my pen name while shopping with your kids and you’d open it to see it was dedicated to you and that I’d hope you’d smile. It’s also the closest thing I’ve ever written to an autobiography. There’s an odd detachment when I’m writing myself that is allowing me to see things I’ve never seen before. Those motives are all BS though aside from what I’m getting from it. The odds are that you’ll never see it, meaning you’ll never see it dedicated to you. The odds are that you don’t even remember my pen name. IF you did see it, you’d probably hate it in the same way that my edits of your pictures would sometimes bother you. I know you tried to see the art, and so you’d probably try to like it, but I wouldn’t be shocked if you didn’t. And I KNOW that there’s no “explaining” myself. What’s done is done, you’ve moved on and I doubt you think of me at all. Still, you wanted me to go on and be happy if I could and you know writing means a lot to me, so I think you’d support it if not just for that. I actually considered putting this and more into an “author’s notes” at the beginning, but then anyone I know who read it would see the truth and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of judgement. So I decided to post it here where it’s EQUALLY unlikely that you’d ever see it, much less know it’s me talking to you 😂

There’s still clearly a lot wrong in mi cabeza, but it’s helping me become “that” man in many ways, ways that only you seemed capable of assisting me in. More irony? Or just sad? 🤷‍♂️ maybe in a million years I will finally be the guy that you saw in me, but I promised I’d keep trying and so I am. I’ve learned a lot. Changed a lot. Some better, some worse. I feel better though most days. The truth is that I miss you terribly though. Every day, and with every breath, you are with me, and yet I know that you’re not. For a while I actively tried to not think of you but that felt wrong, like I was trying to minimize you, and obviously I would never. This story hurts a lot, but then I’ll introduce monsters that will play off of our stories and our two heroes will spin off into whatever scene I’m watching inside of my head. I don’t know if we’ll both live, or die or if only one of us will make it. Idk if we’ll be the heroes. Idk, and I guess that kind of feeds the whole “what if..” aspect of a falling out. It will be ridiculous I’m sure, but writing the girl I know adds new levels to my attachment for her, so God only knows where it will go from us ending 😂

[songwriting-and-performing]

INTERVIEWS – GUITAR PLAYER DECEMBER 2003

GUITAR PLAYER: ELECTRIC WARRIORS DECEMBER 2003 BY MICHAEL MOLENDA

Let me show you how to write a Strokes story for the popular press: “Languishing in a humongous New York photographer’s loft, Strokes drummer Fab Moretti is absolutely terrified about his choice of clothes. ‘Are they cool enough,’ he asks? Meanwhile, guitarists Albert Hammond, Jr. and Nick Valensi are arguing over where to eat. Even for fabulous rock stars, it’s tough nabbing a table at a SoHo nightspot on a moment’s notice. Bassist Nikolai Fraiture is above such worries. Rolling a piece of cold pepperoni pizza in his somewhat cruel mouth, he’s idly destroying a journalist at a game of chess, while simultaneously devouring a book of Edgar Allen Poe’s stories. Slumped deliciously on a red-leather settee, vocalist Julian Casablancas is nonetheless a picture of quiet, seething discontentment. ‘Hey, aren’t we supposed to be rehearsing?” If the preceding isn’t really your style, just muster your finest celebratory, myth-making prose, and take a shot yourself.

Okay, reality time. The Strokes are not a myth. Quite sadly, in fact, for those seduced into hilarious orgasms of quasi-journalistic platitudes, they are simply — and heroically — an extremely hard-working rock band. Friends forever, the members’ work ethic is extraordinary. They rehearse incessantly, continue to feverishly hone their respective crafts, and will tear down and rearrange a song until it’s either perfectly constructed or indisputably without merit. And they’re so dedicated to musical honesty that they refuse to record anything they can’t reproduce on a live stage.

No outsider ever truly breaks into the core, either, and woe to those who attempt to subvert what the Strokes believe to be undeniable truths. Take Room On Fire [RCA], for example. After the near-hysterical critical reception of the band’s debut, Is This It, in 2001, it was a given that the follow-up would be one intensely anticipated album. So, of course, super-hot Radiohead producer Nigel Godrich was set to helm the sessions for the all-important second release. It didn’t work.

While the Strokes liked working with Godrich — and Casablancas admitted the tracks might have been the “best stuff we’ve ever heard in our lives” — he apparently didn’t make the members comfortable enough in the studio, and, subsequently, he couldn’t conjure tracks that the band liked. So the Strokes homeboy Gordon Raphael — who produced Is This It in a Lower East Side basement, and who clearly understands the group’s anxieties about studio tensions — was back in charge for Room On Fire.

Stories such as this make it hard not to applaud the Strokes’ belief in themselves, as well as each member’s commitment to “getting it right” as defined by the band. And while Room On Fire sounds perhaps a bit too comfy and “played right,” it will doubtlessly seduce countless kids to start bands, and the buckeroo enthusiasm of Hammond, Jr. and Valensi will most certainly inspire the next generation of guitarists. Given the Strokes’ adoration for playing it straight — and the member’s distaste for digital editing and other studio wizardry — the future of basic, balls to the walls rock couldn’t be in better hands.

You know, you’re not exactly going to thrill the rack and big rig crowd with your basic setups.

Albert Hammond, Jr.: Well, I feel like once you find the right guitar and the right amp — which I did — you have more than enough tonal possibilities. I didn’t really take advantage of that on the first album — I nearly always used the middle pickup. Now I’m playing with the pickup selector and tone knobs a lot more. For example, while we were rehearsing for the second record, we’d take a break for lunch, and I’d accidentally leave the guitar on a different pickup setting. When we’d come back and play the song again, the different tone might work, or it might not, but it started me thinking that I didn’t have to do things the same way I did on the first album.

Nick Valensi: I do toy around with stuff, and, every once in a while, I’ll find something fun. But when I bring it to the rehearsal studio, it usually doesn’t work out. For example, I tried bringing in some delay stuff, but it didn’t sound right — it was too modern, and the Strokes’ guitar sound is really natural. When Albert and I play by ourselves, I imagine what a guitar sounded like in the ’50s. I haven’t analyzed it too much, but the band sound really came together as soon as I started playing the Epiphone, and Albert picked up that particularly Strat. His trebly stone and my midrange sound really work with the bass.

Working one’s pickup selector and tone controls seems like kind of a lost art for many modern rock players.

Valensi: To tell you the truth, I plug in, put everything on 7, and take it from there. Albert is a bit more tone obsessed, which is probably a good thing. But I’ve bee playing this one guitar for so long that I know it, it knows me, and it never sounds bad.

However, you constructed the most unique guitar sound on the album — the synth-like tone for the melody riffs in “12:51.”

Valensi: Yeah, well how that cam about wasn’t really a fluke, but it happened in a weird way. I was playing these silly little jazz things using my neck pickup with the guitar’s tone control rolled all the way down, and I accidentally stepped on the DeVille’s channel-switching footpedal. The gain on that channel was on 12, and all of a sudden the tone sounded like an analog-synth sound — or a weird heavy-metal, Joe Satriani tone [laughs]. Julian was the one who really saw the possibilities of that tone for “12:51.” So I played along with the vocal melody, doubled the part, and that was it. It was all a bit of an accident — I was just trying to get a nice jazz tone — but it sounded cool. The DeVilles didn’t really like that tone, though. I blew up three of them.

Hammond, Jr.: We definitely think about different tones, but the main way we mix it up is by changing parts. We’ll decide this guitar sounds better than mine on some things, or vice-versa, and we’ll switch parts. Our approach is very open — we never do things a certain way — although Nick is a better player, so if a part is really hard, he’ll usually get it. Then again, if my guitar sounds better on a line, I’ll work hard to master a part that was initially difficult for me.

How do you two decide who plays what?

Valensi: For the most part, the first thing we’re inclined to do is usually the right thing. But if we’re working through a song, and it’s not really working out, we’ll say, “Alright, screw it — I’ll do your part and you do mine.” That works sometimes, but not just because there’s a difference in the way we play — it’s also about our tonal differences. Albert plays a lot looser — even when he plays chords, he does it in a real melodic way — and his tone is more jangly than mine. I have more of a precise, stabbing sound that’s pretty strict and sharp.

But the thing about the new record is, guitar-wise, there are so many melodies going on. It’s not really straight-ahead, rhythm guitar or lead guitar. Somewhere along the line, we got better at filling up space musically. Instead of strumming the chords outright — like we did on the first album — we’re not able to imply the harmony with counter melodies. Those melodies, and how they enhance Julian’s singing, make for a more sophisticated sounds. Stuff like that happens naturally — I don’t recall the five of us sitting down and talking about a direction for the record. It’s only in retrospect that we can acknowledge it. Six months ago, when we were working on the songs for the album, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what was going to happen.

Did you reference any guitar sounds — classic or otherwise — to help you dial in the tones for the new record?

Valensi: No. We only listened to Michael Jackson and John Lennon records for the drum sounds.

What was the typical recording process for Room On Fire?

Hammond, Jr.: Half the record was recorded live, and half was built up from a drum track. The approach usually depended on the drum sounds we wanted. If there would be too much signal bleed when we tried to record a song live, we’d build up the tracks. I mean, if you’re going to be isolated in separate rooms — and monitor the band over headphones — you might as well overdub your parts because you can focus more on your individual performance and your tones. The live tracks — which were full band takes — are “Under Control,” “I Can’t Win,” “You Talk Way Too Much,” “What Ever Happened,” and “12:51.” But everything we recorded — no matter how it was tracked — had to sound live. It was important that every song had a vibe.

Valensi: There’s a strict rule in the band that whatever we put to tape, we have to be able to do onstage ourselves — no extra musicians or pre-recorded stuff. Everything we record is worked through in the rehearsal studio, and we’re limited to two guitars, bass, drums, and vocals. That’s all we do — there are no overdubs or recording tricks. We’re fortunate that we have a good relationship with our producer, because he understands and respects this little rule.

Our process is collaborative, and everyone’s personality comes through a little bit. Some songs, Julian brings in almost completely finished, and they take just a couple of days for us to work up. Other songs take longer. “The End Has No End,” for example, took almost four months to finish. We knew we had a cool intro and some other parts for that songs, but as soon as we got to the chorus, everything would crumble. It took a long time to work out options and settle on the chorus that’s on the record. You see, we don’t like to dismiss something right away — it’s those one or two good parts that keep you working on something until it sounds great. So we’ll give a song a real shot, and if it doesn’t make the cut for the album, we’ll know we gave it every chance to succeed. Ultimately, that works to our advantage. For Room On Fire, we went into the studio knowing exactly which 11 songs we were going to record.

Hammond, Jr.: For this record, we tried not to do anything that we did on the first one. Otherwise, the whole process of recording gets boring because you’ve heard everything already. The songs changed a lot, so there was a natural evolution due to the new material, but we also expanded our tonal palette and ended the songs differently. It was pretty exciting.

But isn’t one of the challenges showing an evolution on your second record without flying too far afield of the style that won fans on your first release?

Hammond, Jr.: The only thing we didn’t want to lose was our vibe. Our first record was a moment in time — a document of our set list. But I think this record sounds more like us. Because of all the touring we’ve done, we’re better players, and we’ve become more adept at making sure our individual voice as a band gets down on tape. But, having said that, I also believe that the charming quality I liked so much on our first record is still there on the second.

Valensi: Any band that had success on their first record is going to have some difficulty isolating themselves for their follow-up album. It’s hard to put into words. However, any pressure we felt going in to record the new record was internal, and it was stuff we could talk out.

When we got off the road, we were more focused than ever. Julian writes the music and words, and it was good for him to be home in New York, where he’s in his element and comfortable. Once there was new material to work through, it was very exciting for all of us. That is, perhaps one of the best feelings — going downstairs, hopping in a taxi, and driving to the rehearsal studio, knowing you’re about to work on a new song.

Hammond, Jr.: When you’re in a room with five guys who can play songs well together it’s the biggest ego boost you can have.

How do you approach your solos?

Hammond, Jr.: All of my leads are worked out, and Julian helps a lot — he’ll actually write some of the solos. Sometimes, we’ll go for a certain thing — like on “I Can’t Win” Nick was trying to get a Bob Marley, “Concrete Jungle” kind of solo — and sometimes we’ll work on something without knowing where it’s going to lead us. It depends on the song. But, overall, I tend to favor the Freddie King style of blues soloing. I really like his technique of using slowness, silence, fire, and then slowness again. It’s all about letting things breathe, and then coming back and attacking the notes.

Valensi: My influences are sort of scattered. I always liked the way Slash played when I was a kid— which maybe isn’t the coolest influence, but it’s the truth.

Have any of your individual influences helped forge the Strokes sound?

Valensi: When we were 13 years old, we were all friends because we dug the same music. At that time, it was Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Bob Marley, the Velvet Underground, Lou Reed, and David Bowie. Back then it was fun to figure out songs and talk about them, but we were never into playing covers. I wish there was more of a story line to get the progression of the Strokes sound, but it all happened so organically, it’s like trying to describe a tree growing.

Do you have plans for continued growth and evolution as guitarists?

Hammond, Jr.: I still take lessons with JP, but what I practice at home doesn’t always reflect the Strokes. I want to grow as a guitarist, so I’ll study things like ’20s jazz or some blues. That stuff doesn’t really tie into the Strokes, but in a weird way it does, because it opens up my attitude towards the guitar. As my feel for the instrument evolves, I’ll become a better player. It’s all about setting that impossible goal you can never reach, and, in the process, you keep learning, keep learning, keep learning…

I mean, one thing I’ve learned about the guitar, is that as soon as you learn something new, you’re back to square one again. You’re never really finished with it. So, when I see young people playing guitar, I want to tell them it’s an easy instrument to give up on. You’ll typically learn something fast — and think, “Wow, I’m really getting it” — and then the next year-and-a-half will drop off into a very slow progression.

Valensi: Right now, I never really think about being a great guitarist. I know we’ve got a great band, and I’m only interested in doing what’s good for the group, and getting our music out to people. It’s about the Strokes, and we all put our egos aside for the good of the band.

You know, a lot of bands say that, but egos have a way of creeping into things.

Valensi: When you put five really good friends in a room who have the same goal, they just find a way to make things work.

What about the pressures of fame? You guys are way more famous now than when you released your first album, and people are expecting big things from you.

Hammond, Jr.: We don’t really think about the fame thing, because it happened in steps. I just try to think about being a really good band. You know, it’s only later — when you’re back home after touring — that you might look back at what happened and go, “Cool!”

I don’t think we’re rock stars, although when you’re onstage, you have to be confident. No one wants to go see a band that’s timid — you want to see a band that’s taking things to the next level. That’s fun. For us, we’re always intense and nervous before we step onstage — scared, actually — and that’s half the energy. I mean, there are five guys up there who are naturally intense being nervous together. That’s something an audience can feel, and that’s what pushes us to deliver balls to the walls performances.

Valensi: I know when I was a kid that this is what I was going to do with my life. Music is the one thing that I enjoy the most, and I thank my parents for shoving a guitar into my hands when I was a kid, and telling me that I had a knack for it. Once I got going, nothing could stop me. Making music in this band is all I care about right now.

Hammond, Jr.: You know, it’s all pretty strange. It’s quite strange to be on the cover of a guitar magazine. It’s a compliment. I know that I’m definitely not a Clapton, and I’m sure that some of your readers will wonder why Nick and I are on the cover. We’re young, and sometimes even I laugh when I tell people I’m a guitar player. I almost feel like I haven’t earned the right to say that yet. But I love the instrument with all my heart, and I’m excited that the process of being a better player is never ending. Of course, I also realize that it’s easy to put stuff down. But, you know, it’s harder to come up with something better.

+++

THE GURU

Although most articles on the Strokes mention him ever-so-briefly, JP Bowersock is far from a minimal presence. In fact, his influence on the band and its sound is so huge that he should be considered “the sixth Stroke.” He not only remains Hammond, Jr.’s and Valensi’s guitar teacher, he’s also the band’s vibe master, cheerleader, protector, sage, and apparently, the only one who can translate the group’s sonic ideas to its production team. In other words, if you’re looking for some substantial clues to the development of the Strokes sound, you need to consider Bowersock’s contribution in the same light as each individual member’s musical influences and performance techniques.

“JP offers support for everyone,” says Valensi. “He’ll help me figure out little licks, ways to make some lines cooler — such as asking me to check out how a riff would sound with one or two notes hammered on — and how to EQ stuff. He provides general supervision on everything, and I definitely consider him part of the production team. It’s reassuring to have someone in your corner who is a little bit older and wiser, and who knows so much about music.

“JP’s knowledge of the guitar and life and music is amazing,” enthuses Hammond, Jr. “In the studio, he really helps us when we’re stuck. I might say that something sounds flat, for example, and he’ll tell the engineer to boost the 2kHz range or whatever. Then we’re like, ‘Oh, wow — that’s just what it needed!” He also knows that vibe is everything when you’re recording, and he helps us relax. Maybe someone will think their tone sucks, or they’re not playing something right, and he’ll be able to talk it out and make it alright. Perhaps we’re not sure if a take is ‘the one,’ and if he says it’s great, it boosts our confidence. Basically, he’s a figure that everyone in the band trusts, and, when you have someone like that in a room, it creates an atmosphere where it’s your own little world, and you can survive with everything you have.”

+++

MAPPING THE STROKES

As the Strokes will not record anything that can’t be replicated live, it’s fairly easy to trace Hammond, Jr.’s and Valensi’s parts — they each stake out their territory in either the right or left speaker. To help identify exactly who is blasting through one channel or the other, however, Hammond, Jr. provided GP readers with this basic, song-by-song script of what the guitarists are playing.

What Ever Happened?

Chords: Hammond, Jr. Lines, instrumental break after chorus: Valensi

Reptilia

Chords: Valensi Lines: Hammond, Jr.

Automatic Stop

Chords: Valensi Lines: Hammond, Jr.

12:51

Chords: Hammond, Jr. “Keyboard” lines: Valensi

You Talk Way Too Much

Chords: Hammond, Jr. Solo: Valensi

Between Love And Hate

Chords, solo: Valensi Lines: Hammond, Jr.

Meet Me In the Bathroom

Chords, lines (chorus): Valensi Chordal melody, lines: Hammond, Jr.

Under Control

Chords, different inversions: Both Solo: Hammond, Jr.

The End Has No End

Chords: Both “Crazy” bridge: Valensi Solo: Hammond, Jr.

The Way It Is

Chords: Valensi Lines: Hammond, Jr.

I Can’t Win

Chords, lines: Both Solo: Valensi

[erinysceidae]

Instead of art, today we have the accompanying pages for this picture. Which, I realize now, neglects the ring she was given. But, at least I got the correct hand missing this time.

Anyway, the beginning of Chapter 7. (Note, this has been partially self-edited, but not peer reviewed, so I apologize for any errors. It is a work in progress.)

Chapter 7 - The Meaning of Failure

Magda collapsed into the large, soft chair and turned her gaze out the window, the sky was just beginning to tinge orange of sunset. The clouds churned, turning rosy pink and soft lavender. It was Lina’s favorite color.

She turned her back to the window and hugged her knees. Cecily was bustling in the kitchen. Magda closed her eye and focused on the smell of butter and sage.

“Long day?”

His hollow voice was familiar by now, so she didn’t bother to open her eye. “Yes,” she replied. “I am genuinely spent. I have used so much magic today. Juniper and Laurel wanted to test the volume of my focus. We’re still not sure, we ran out of space before I ran out of energy.”

“Ran out of space?”

“We started by infusing focus into herbs, but we ran out of herbs. So, we harvested the herbs and tried to grow more— magicking a plant to grow is pretty energy intense, and can affect a plant lifespan, so we could only do it once. Even then, we harvested the garden a second time and I could have done more, but Juniper was running out of containers for the herbs,” Magda said gesturing vaguely. “You were right though. I exhausted myself physically well before my focus burned low. Even now, I can feel there is more within, but I—“ 

She interrupted herself with a yawn. 

“Excuse me. That’s why Cecily is cooking something. I don’t think I could make it to the tavern, not to mention back. Talking to you is the only thing keeping me awake.”

“Should I go? Let you nap?”

“No, I’m glad for the company,” she said. 

The chair creaked slightly, and she opened her eye just a crack. Arms crossed over the back of the chair, chin resting on his hands, The Owl loomed over her but his presence was calming. “I suppose we must keep you awake until dinner. So… go on. Tell me about your busy day.”

Magda smirked, and again rested her eye. “Well,” she began, “I was awoken by sweet Cecily bringing me yet more clothes from Sassy. I could wear a different thing each day for a week and never double up. Fitted pants, flowing pants, short pants and full pants that are practically a skirt by any other name! Blouses with billowing sleeves, with sleeves that laced up snugly and sleeves with slits, tunics with belts and tops with no sleeves at all! Is it proper to bare ones shoulders like that?”

“Shoulders? I suppose there might be some that find it scandalous, but I can’t imagine how.”

“I don’t know how anyone dresses themself everyday. I felt overwhelmed by choice. I nearly put on my clothes from yesterday, but Cecily had already taken them away, so I choose a top and bottom at random and thankfully no one has questioned my choices yet.”

The chair shifted as The Owl leaned over and glanced at her better. “Looks like suitable clothing to me.”

“My mistake was in not choosing a bodice or vest, so I had to have Cecily tie a ribbon around it and wear it like a necklace,” she said, lifting the ribbon from her neck and displaying the knife at the end.

“You needn’t tie it to you,” The Owl said.

“Well, I did,” she said. “My first chore, not counting having to dress, was to go see Sassy and give her the majiril. That was easy. But then she wanted to know if I’d eaten yet, and next thing I knew I was in the tavern for breakfast. Everyone was there— everyone but you.”

“Did you expect me to be there?”

“No, no… but… everyone was there,” Magda said quietly, “Lina was there.”

The Owl groaned sympathetically.

“She was in a chair with wheels, being pushed by a beastkin almost identical to Cecily. I’ve seen a lot of them around town, they’re Galleta’s children too, right?”

“Yes, her husband looks like a black wolf. I’m not sure what his exact lineage is, but when asked Galleta says he’s a fey church dog,” The Owl said, tapping his fingers on the back of the chair. “She laughs when she says it, but she laughs at a lot of serious things.”

“Hmm. Lina was eating with Madam Francesca. Laughing. Smiling. She was her lovely, charming self. She’s always been outgoing and friendly, afraid of no one. I suppose I’m glad that she’s happy.”

The Owl scoffed, “why?”

She opened her eye to scowl at him. “Because… because for my whole life she was my only friend. Just because that has changed doesn’t mean I wish her ill.”

“You’re too kind,” he said chidingly.

“Thank you,” she snipped. “I wish her well, but I do not I want to see her, either. I ate what I could quickly and excused myself. Knowing what I know now, I might not have left in such a hurry. I knew the next chore would be unpleasant, but I was not prepared.”

“Oh?” He asked.

She nodded, then lifted her eyepatch. “Ceridwn and Narrow took measurements. It didn’t hurt, not really, but having a strange new hole in one’s face probed and prodded is… unpleasant.”

“That doesn’t hurt?” He said, reaching and, with a gentle touch, caressing her cheek. She turned her face so he could see.

“It aches sometimes, but major injuries can linger,” she said, putting the patch back down. “But, at least I got a bunch of other spells and ideas from Ceridwn. Including the one that means no more messy visits from ladyhood, so hooray. Magic is amazing and Matron Ana was a fool for fighting against it.”

The Owl genuinely laughed. 

“I’m happy for you,” he said, patting her on the head tenderly.

“So am I,” Magda said, smiling. “Narrow and I left the clinic, so she could show me my new hand. It should be ready tomorrow. It’s… amazing.”

She held her arms up and looked at them. There was a small bronze ring on her pinky. She flexed her hand, then closed her eye again.

“I don’t have to worry about breaking this one. It’s got bones made of metal that will be reinforced by my focus. I’ll control it with my mind, it’s really something wonderful. Over the skeleton there’s this leather glove, and it’s really pretty, with these polished bands and shining guards… did you know Narrow went back to the temple after we’d come back from it?”

“Yes, she told me about that. She said she scavenged what could.”

“She did. She… she got the bell. She actually retrieved the temple bell,” Magda said, tears blurring her vision. “It was bent out of shape, and had no where to belong. The temple has all but collapsed. But she got the bell, she brought it home. She gave it life again. All the decorations and fasteners on the glove are made from the bell’s bronze.”

“She did not tell me that.”

Magda raised her hand and gazed at the bronze ring on her hand, “she says there’s a special magic in holy items. It may help me, but even if it doesn’t it feels nice to have a piece of the temple with me.”

“The temple meant a lot to you.”

“It was my home. It was all I knew, and it gave me purpose,” she said softly. “I believe in order. Order is peace, reason and life.”

“Yet here you are, choosing to be in the midst of all this chaos,” The Owl mused.

“Oh, yes. Order without chaos is unchanging, devoid of life. Chaos without order is nonsense, devoid of definition. One is meaningless without the other; they give each other purpose.”

“That’s very poetic,” The Owl mused, letting his hand slip off her silky hair and dangle beside her. 

“I would like to be poetic,” she mused, lifting her hand and batting at his fingertips with her own. “I did practice my letters while I was with Laurel and Juniper. Laurel gave me a practice book. It is for very small children, but I have no room to be embarrassed when I am the one who can not read.”

“I am sure you will pick it up quickly,” he said.

There was a subtle clink as Cecily set a tray down on the table. She glanced up at The Owl, and tilted her head. She gestured to him, pressing her open hands back to palm. 

“I don’t know if you could call us that,” The Owl admitted.

“Oh, this looks lovely,” Magda said, sitting up and stretching. The tray had seasoned rice, curled sausage, and roasted yellow squash. “Call us what?”

“She asked if we were close,” he explained. “I don’t really know how to be close. How to have a friend. I don’t know if I want one. There is still a looming chance of failure.” 

Magda fumbled with her utensils, trying clumsily to cut the sausage one handed. “You willfully cling to being a stubborn, scared little boy.”

“I am not… “ he faltered, grasping at straws, “little,” he said pathetically.

Cecily took the fork from Magda and held her hand out for the knife, then began cutting Magda’s food.

“A little boy who would cut out his heart to save himself the pain of it breaking,” Magda scoffed.

She turned her head and looked back, looking up at The Owl who was still leaning on her chair, still staring at her with dying ember eyes.

“Lechuza. I will not be afraid. I will not cut out my heart. You must face pain, tame it and accept it. Only then will it begin to heal.”

This close, she could see the movement of his covered face, and heard the soft inhale as he failed to find his words. 

She reached up toward him. 

He stilled, but did not move away.

A single finger brushed his chin. He held his breath and closed his eyes— the distant fire disappearing. She waited to see if he would draw away from her, like a timid beast.

With a shuddering breath, he opened one eye, then the other. Sparks in the void, a light to follow through the darkness. Slowly, so slowly, he leaned just a little closer. She cupped his cheek and smiled.

“You’re safe. I have you. I do not want to hurt you. I don’t want you to hurt at all. But that’s a castle in the sky, isn’t it? So… when you’re ready to face the pain, I’ll be here.” 

Lifting his hand, he placed it over hers and pressed his face against her palm for just a heartbeat more.

“Here, in this moment in time. Even when this is just a distant memory, I will be here. Save this moment in your heart, and find strength in it. Push away the thought of failure.”

“I think… I need to tell you what failure really means,” he said, drawing away from her. “But I worry it will scare you.”

“I told you, I am not afraid.”

“Maybe you should be,” he said, coming around the chair and sitting on the floor beside it. “Eat first.”

[inkskinned]

she trails one finger down my cheek, sighing. "I'm gonna miss you."

i roll my eyes, lying back against her uncolored bedspread, watching the room settle into the correct form. she always gets like this, right before an Assignment. she takes our Roles a little bit too seriously. my brain is already sloshing with the pacing of the Narrative - a little stilted, a little distant. I'd been in Close Third in the last one, and more poetic. her hands make shadow puppets on the bright pink walls; the room shifts and become covered in art; shifts and become covered in band posters. then back to pink.

she'd been my Best Friend Forever since kindergarten, usually. the oldest we'd ever met each other was in middle school, but that Assignment had been pretty bleak anyway, and she'd only been in-and-out of the picture. I'd barely seen her. i loved her, usually, from the moment i met her - she usually had done something Charming in some way, solidifying our bond for the Audience.

"you're gonna be fine," i tell her. "we'll be back here in no time."

she sighs and curls up next to me, turning so our noses almost touch. she smells familiar, like drying ink. then she smells like mint and mown grass. then she smells like herself, for a second, before she's back to peppermint. "well, you're gonna be fine," she says. "The Main Character always is."

"this again." i roll my eyes a second time. this Assignment feels like it is heavy in the eye-rolling. i had told her before: i'm jealous of her Role just like she's jealous of mine. the Best Friend Forever gets to be quirky, spunky, cute. she always has a personality like a firecracker - even if sometimes that firecracker had a harsh edge to it. in most Assignments, she'd run around, starting - or getting me out of - loads of trouble. she gets to have grand adventures without too much Character Development, which is always painful for me and kind of annoying. she is always Assigned cool interests and hobbies, whereas i can feel my singular Driving Interest crystalizing in my bloodstream. "i think this time i'm Interested in yearbook. Gag me." I mime choking, she wrinkles her little lopsided nose in a giggle.

"you just hate it from stuff that's leftover from your last Assignment, though." she looks up at the ceiling. "you'll be actually Interested soon. in this one i'm gonna have a secret thing about fashion magazines. now that is gag-me."

"remember when you were like, so -"

"like so into porcelain dolls?"

"and i was like, Interested in -"

"you were deep in the paint of effing biology." she wrinkles her nose again, like a little mouse, and i realize i love this new face, the way i love all of her faces. i like this tic she has. sometimes her tics are supposed-to-be-ugly; i love them every time anyway. she's my Best Friend Forever, I can't not love whatever she is. she bites her lip. "oh gosh. i'm already talking like the Assignment. that's quick."

"sounds Young Adult. I haven't been able to swear in, like, a millennia." i don't usually get to swear though, regardless of Audience, since swearing is a Best Friend Forever thing. although sometimes i would be Assigned to just-swear if it was a big-deal kind of moment, and those Assignments were fun. the words would pop out of my mouth like a soap bubble, big and afraid of themselves. and my Best Friend Forever would always look at me, shocked and awestruck.

i loved when she looked at me like that. it wasn't in every Assignment, but it was always so gratifying to be in her eye like that. to be seen, the way a Best Friend Forever sees you.

she takes my hand gently. she's usually a little bit bigger than me, but in this one, she's smaller than average. slim. we're probably going to have a Big Fight about jealousy - whenever she's slimmer, the Audience needs to know she's also Insecure about it. Usually it's the other way around - I'm slimmer, and Insecure that i don't have her curves. in those, she's always "better with boys." until, at least...

like she reads my mind, she sighs again. "I know. i just hate the part where you meet Him."

i'm not startled by how on-the-same-page (ha! maybe i'm Funny in this one) we are. she's my Forever person. the Him changes a lot, but she is a delicate constant. she knows me - even when i'm not-me. or not this me. whatever. "i mean, it might be different this time."

she sits up. i sit up too, disoriented by the strange violence of the action. she pushes the heel of her palm into her cheekbone. "it sucks, you know?"

i can tell by how she wrinkles her nose that she is understating it. i've known her Forever, after all.

nose wrinkle. "we're always the most dynamic and interesting part. you and i, and how we grow up together, and how we interact, and how we try to get over the same things. i know we have a lot of Big Fights, but we always end back up together at the end."

it's a sore subject. i betray her a lot for Him. i can't help it. "i know, but maybe this time - i mean, it's not always ..."

her eyes flash while she turns to me. "you just, like, get caught up in Him. every time. and i have to, like, watch you leave."

"i don't always leave." i feel pouty, suspicious that she is right. it is a Main Character thing to be Right in The End, not a Best Friend Forever thing. i don't always do it the Right Way, but I always end up back here, apologizing to her. she always ends up being okay with it, because i'm always Right.

"you do always leave. and it doesn't make any effing sense, because He never makes sense like we do, you know, like... you both are never - like, your Development with Him, is never like, actually...." she moves her hands around in the air as if trying to find the term, but gives up. "the Audience even thinks it."

I hold my breath at her blasphemy. "don't bring the Audience into -"

she grabs at the roots of her hair. "i'm right, though. you meet Him, and because you are a girl, and you are the Main Character, you love Him, and you forget about me." her hands drop to her lap and her thin shoulders pull forward as if she has been suddenly deflated. the anger all seeping out around her. she's usually not able to stay angry at me long - loving me is her Role.

the air feels heavy between us. thick of something unwritten. i don't know the rules of this one. in the space between Assignments, she can be a little wild. her Role doesn't sink her as deep into the Assignment - she has wiggle room where i don't.

i try to tease her, nudging her with my shoulder. "i didn't realize you had a jealous Assignment this time."

she looks up at me. biting the inside of her cheek. i can see her jaw working against the muscle. "i'm always jealous," she whispers.

"that's natural," i assure her. "it's a Best Friend Forever thing. I'm always jealous, too, just a little. you know that."

"it's because we actually see each other. because we actually know each other. because we're made for each other." she doesn't drop my eyes. her hands take mine again, warm and soft. again, that feeling that she is a familiar love - a long love, a deep love - comes sloshing up inside me. i was made to love her, and i was also made to betray her. in order for the Character Development to work, i have to love her hard, so it hurts when i choose Him. she has to love me hard, too. "it's..." she breathes deep, as if through a choke. i wonder how much longer before we'll be in the Assignment, and unable to talk like this. it can't be much longer at all. "it's just stupid. every time, you see Him, and for no reason, he's just better and you leave and -"

"you know i don't want to hurt you, though!" it's an old argument. i feel the pattern of it, glad to be back on script. "you know i never -"

"you just see Him, and it's like magic, and it doesn't mater that He makes no sense - "

"it's about growing up! it's about Character Development! it's not about you, you know that, i love you, i just always Love Him, and -"

"and i am jealous -" she grabs my face, desperate, her voice thick. the room around us starts to shift, and i can tell by how it is pulling itself together that it's solidifying into the Assignment. someone is writing us into a space. her words are garbled for a second, and i feel the hair on the back of my neck rise as she fights the Assignment.

"we're gonna be okay," i promise, "i'll love you the whole time, you know that, even if -"

when she kisses me, something happens in the pit of my stomach. i've been Kissed many times, by many Hims. it is sometimes electric, dizzying, powerful. it is sometimes cataclysmic. it is sometimes rushed, hurried, overwhelming - sometimes harsh, dominant. i have been Kissed until i saw stars, and Kissed perfect.

this is not that. i don't have words for this. i have no narrative. there is only her, and only me, and no story, her hands on my cheeks. i realize, in the seconds we have - she's crying.

then i am on her bed again, which is pink and purple patchwork, and she is across the room, lying on the floor, kicking her heels up while she reads a magazine lazily. we've known each other from preschool, when she punched someone for stealing my candy. we both got detention - who knew preschoolers could get detention - and we'd be inseparable ever since. she listens to loud music but loves fashion magazines; and i love her.

she's saying something, but my old phone pings, lying on top of the Yearbook editing i'm doing. i look down, frozen. she asks me something, but i can't hear her, staring at the notification on my screen. i don't even notice her getting up to investigate.

her hair tickles my cheek while she reads the phone over my shoulder.

she grins. "oh my gosh." she says. "you got invited to the party, holy guacamole. do you know who's gonna be there? baby, you need to go."

i know i need to. after all, after a little complaining, i am going to go. we will try on all her clothes first. and while i'm there, i'll be a Main Character, and not-quit-fit-in.

and while i'm there, i'm going meet Him. and it will be Magical. for some reason, there are tears pricking at the side of my eyes, even though i have no idea why. this story is funny, and light, and amusing.

she grabs my hand, and she is warm, and familiar, and i feel Insecure that she's so thin. i feel Insecure - and - something - a memory, or a -

"come on," she says, and, for a second, something in her eyes is deeply sad, and the time between us feels like fraying satin.

but then she breaks out into a grin. "i know just what to dress you in. i can't wait. you're gonna meet Him."