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thatbanditqueen · 1 year

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Basic Training Ch 3

A response to the prompt: "You're staring." Thanks to my harem cohort @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally @powerofelvis and @whositmcwhatsit

Summary: Bess heads to the dance the Morale, Welfare and Recreation Committee for the 37th armored tank division is throwing, and manages to avoid dancing with the most notorious soldier on post, who cannot seem to take his eyes off her.

Warnings: None! Wait, kissing. Swear words. This may be the slowest burn yet. Probably typos, I wrote about 1K words over the last three days and then the rest in a fever dream. So.... may not make sense. Also I am pretty sure the first phase of basic training would not have them in tanks yet, but....I am playing fast and loose with Army life in this one.

Word Count: 5. 3 K

This is my newest WIP, please like, comment, reblog and tag and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.

You can catch up on the previous chapters here

Basic Training Chapter 3: Just Kiss Me

Saturday, April 5, 1958

7:30 p.m.

The Schwartz Residence, Killeen

Just as her shoe hit the bottom stair, Bess realized she had left her lipstick in her room and was turning back around to grab it when she saw Kay sitting in the living room, dressed in a pink cocktail dress. Her puffy crinoline skirt was gathered in a heap around her as she shifted in place, adjusting her pearl necklace.

“Um, where do you think you are going?”

Kay looked up, tucking her brown hair behind her ear as she eyed the tight, fitted sheath dress Bess was wearing. She smiled at how the white sequins and embroidered red flowers glowed iridescent in the dim light and whistled low.

“Who are you dressing up for? The guy who you snuck in last weekend?”

“What makes you think there’s a guy, Katherine, honestly. I don’t sneak men into our house.”

“Uh huh, so you’re all gussied up in your favorite dress just for a bunch of enlisted soldiers?”

Kay grabbed her purse and followed her sister to the door.

“Why are you being weird Bess, I always come with you? You’ve been going to army dances since you were sixteen. I’m about to graduate, plus, I told Dickey I’d meet him there.”

Bess sighed, thinking of Kay’s latest boyfriend. She supposed that she should be happy because he seemed like a harmless nerd, and, according to the files she had pulled on him, was not married, inbred or bankrupt.

“I just - we - I didn’t invite you to this dance because it’s an enlisted platoon. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Wow, you must really like who ever it is, if you don’t want me to see you with him. Too bad. Dori called earlier and told me to come. She’s been trying to reach you all day, by the way.”

Bess locked the door, and they got into her car.

“Can you believe her date?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Of course, then it all made sense why you guys would be messing around with an enlisted tank unit. How did Dori even get involved with their MWR Committee.”

Bess rolled up her skirt so she could comfortably drive, and shifted into reverse, arching her eye bow at her younger sister as she did.

“How do you think? She asked to be reassigned to it two weeks ago.”

“Man oh man, she really is lucky. I wonder if we’ll all get to dance with Elvis?”

“Look, Kay, they sent out a memo to everyone, do NOT make a spectacle over Private Presley. Just act like he’s any other solider”

“Of course Bessie bushka. I’m on my best behavior.”

Bess looked Kay in the eyes as they pulled through the base gate.

“I am just going because I told Dori I would, I don’t wanna stay too late. So maybe Dickey Rooney can drive you home if you wanna swing all night?”

“Yeah, sure, ja volt. You don’t have to be ein klafte, Elisabet.”

**************************************************************

The tight cloth of her dress didn’t have much give, and Bess regretted her choice as she tried to keep up and hold on as she danced

“Look, this is tactical move that requires delicate maneuvers—”

“I’m not spiking the punch, Jim.”

Bess huffed and got into her rhythm as they kept up with the band’s rendition of “Tutti Fruity.” If she let her self relax and swing into each step, it was almost like old times when she, Jim and Ben used to go out dancing in Austin or Killeen and she’d take turns dancing with her fiancee and his best friend all night. They had been the three musketeers. But that was last year, when she had a fiancee. And a different future peering back at her from her crystal ball.

The music brought her out of her silent reverie, and Bess looked to her where the band was performing on stage. The lead singer’s voice reverberated through the building, echoing up into the tin ceiling and back down again, making the room buzz with energy. There were six people in the all-Black Flapjacks: drums, guitar, bass, trumpet and then a male and female vocalist. The men wore matching silver dinner jackets and black bow ties, and the beautiful, Black woman had on a gorgeous silver dress with tulle flowers at the bust.

Bess took a deep breath, her attention shifted back to Jim, whose hands were always steady, but never needy. She was grateful he had agreed to come when she called last night and asked. A year ago they had spent almost all their free time together. Stalwart, an honorable prankster, Jim wasn’t shipping out to the Army Intelligence station in Heidelberg for another two months and Bess wondered if their friendship would end. If Ben’s new German wife would win him over and, like his friend before him, Jim would forget all about the last three years of shared adventures and promises of a lifelong friendship. Men mean it in the moment, Bess thought, I suppose women do to. Forever. What a meaningless word. How can we plan forever when we cannot know the future? The song ended and Jim escorted her off to the side. She looked for her sister, and found her swaying with her beau towards the back, hands clasped together between the lock-eyed look of first love.

“I forgot how good a dancer you are, Schwartz. And in that dress, whoowee! You’re a knock out tonight.”

“You can cut the flattery, Jameson, still not spiking the punch.”

“S’not flattery, how dare you insinuate that I would be disingenuous? You look good all dolled up, s'nice to see you this way. It’s almost like fun Bess is back, though a year ago she wudda helped me spike the punch.”

He took out his large, dark leather flask and handed it to her after taking a nip. Bess’ face scrunched up in distaste as the vodka burned down her throat, but she greedily held on and took another long drink.

“A year ago I didn’t work here, I was just hanging out with some of the reprobates from the German language division. Now it would be bad form for a Front Office secretary to spike the punch.”

“Look around, Bessie, this crowd needs to relax. They’re alllllll keyed up waiting for that Hound Dog.”

Jim was right, a heightened sense of anticipation pervaded the warehouse, even the strings of colorful paper lanterns seemed to sway with anxious excitement above them. Bess looked over at the big bowl of punch, next to the trays of deviled eggs, brisket sliders, the lime jello mold filled with seafood salad, pineapple upside down cake and more. She was sizing up the punch and checking her breath as they waited for the next song when she heard a wave of hushed murmurs ripple through the large room and turned to see Elvis, Dori and a few other soldiers in dress uniform enter the dance together. Bess’ eyes narrowed as Elvis’ looked at her.

Jim followed her gaze, then met Bess’ eyes.

“There he is, as handsome as he looks in the movies.”

Bess’ grimace could have cut through glass as she turned to her friend and elbowed him.

“Not you too?”

“What, art thou so high above us mere mortals that you don’t find Elvis Presley attractive, Schwartz? To gouache for a scholar like you?”

“It’s Private Presley now. And I’m not made of marble, Captain. Of course I recognize his attractive features. He just isn’t my type.”

She sniffed, and grabbed the flask from inside Jim’s uniform, the breath coming out of her nose forcefully as she drank a long draught.

“I’ve met him, actually, already. I was there.” Bess took another drink, tipping the flask back again and noticing that the liquid didn’t burn so much this time. “When he asked Dori out. I’m happy for her.”

Elvis and Dori began walking toward them, and Jim noticed how Bess’ stance changed as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips, suggesting that she what felt was the opposite of 'happy for Dori.'

“Well, I was at the press conference his first day here, at least four reporters asked if he has a girlfriend. Said he was playing the field so many times, sounded like a broken record.”

Bess straightened as she watched Elvis’ hand tighten around Dori’s waist and push under her bust while the blonde leaned into it and introduced Elvis to some of the eager MWR committee members who had stopped them.

“Yeah, that would be the alternate version of Hound Dog, it’s on the B side.”

Jim chuckled at Bess’ joke, but she didn’t notice, she was busy watching the Hound Dog himself, and caught Elvis glance over at her and give a little nod before his lips bent into a smirk. She realized she was frowning and plastered a big smile on her face. Jim watched this exchange with interest as Bess turned back when he spoke.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Definitely not your type.”

Bess scowled and whispered for him to stop as Elvis, Dori and another soldier approached them.

“Why Captain Daniels, how nice to see ya over at this little ol’ dance for the 37th, are you Bess’ date ta night? Or sneaking in to try and meet you-know-who?”

Dori giggled and playfully tapped Elvis’ chest. In case, you know, they didn’t get whom she was referencing.

Jim nodded and shook his hand to stop Elvis and the other soldier from saluting him.

“Oh, neither, actually, I’m just here to make sure Schwartz doesn’t spike the punch.”

“Don’t believe a word the Captain here says. This is a great introduction, by the way. Captain Daniels, meet Private Presley, you know Doreen of course, and then, well, I cannot say we’re acquainted.”

The liquor had loosened Bess up and she giddily put out her hand to the other soldier, as Elvis fiddled with the blue dress uniform cap under his right arm and took charge of the conversation.

“This is Rexadus, I mean, uh, Private Mansfield, he’s in the 37th wit me, another Mephisss boy, we were inducted ta gather, actually." Now Elvis was turning his hat over and examining it, speaking with confidence, almost as if from a script he had rehearsed in his head. "He’s a solid, solid, guy. He really is. Guess I’m lucky, since he’s spending all his time stuck in a metal box with my ass - I mean stuck with my behind.”

Rex her shook their hands with tight, swift grip and a warm smile. Jim raised his eyebrows at Bess.

“And how do you find the Army, so far, Privates?”

“Well, it was easy ta find, just follow all the tanks.” Elvis smiled and looked down. “Nah, well, speaking’ jus for me, I mean, I was real honored when President Eisenhower sent me an invitation to this here costume party, and all the boys are real nice."

There was that scripted voice again, Bess mused. She had seen under the hood and Elvis' attitude toward being drafted had not struck her as honored and grateful.

"It’s not easy, golly, I tell you, it’s really whooping my - uh - caboose. But I never felt I earned my supper so well, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

Dori giggled like Elvis was the wittiest man in the world, but he barely noticed, his eyes were focused on Bess and she coughed, uncomfortably. It was hard not stare back. She almost forgot to breathe, and exhaled deeply as she forced herself to look over at the band.

Her eyes trailed over to the food, and she looked back at Elvis with concern, knowing he rarely actually went to the mess hall. He had been meeting her at her back stairwell every evening at 5:15, opening her car door and getting in without even asking. As if it were his own car and sliding across her seat was the most normal thing in the world. It actually did seem normal now, and had become part of her daily routine these last three days. They sat there in their own private enclave, and every time, as he laid his head between her thighs and rubbed her waist, she told him that they were just friends hanging out. Yesterday they’d talked past dinner hours and she’d ask him if he didn’t want to go to get food, prompting Elvis to share how someone had yelled out in line at him Monday, asking if he missed his teddy bears, and he hadn’t gone back since. Sergeant Norwood’s wife, apparently, was providing him with a loaf’s worth of peanut butter sandwiches every night. But that wouldn’t have happened this evening and Bess thoughtfully looked over at the food table.

“You must be hungry. All of you, I mean.” Bess stuttered, trying not to stare at Elvis, which, for some reason, backfired, because consciously trying not to made her think about him even more and she failed horribly at being able to stray from his blue eyes for very long. “Because you just got here. Of course.”

Dori smiled and took this as her cue to play hostess and lead Elvis away to the refreshments.

“Yes, of course, of course, y’all must be hungry, doing those tank exercises all day. I made the seafood dip over there in the jello mold, it’s a recipe from Ladies’ Home Journal, you simply must try it and tell me what you think.”

“Aw, darlin’, I don’t, don’t eat seafood.”

“The brisket is pretty good.” Bess chimed in.

Dori smiled even deeper.

“Hmm, well, I suppose it’s probably ok for a Yankee like ya self, Bess honey.”

She pulled her arm tighter around Elvis, leading him to to the brisket as Bess heard her say, “Personally, I find Millie’s brisket a little bland and dried out, but come on, you’re a growin’ boy, need to refresh ya energy.”

Dori’s giggle trilled back as she walked him away and Bess frowned again when Elvis turned back over his shoulder, clearly grinning deeper as he took in Bess’ eyes following him.

She made small talk with Rex, mentioning how the last time she had heard this band, The Flapjack’s, they had played all of Elvis’ big hits and there had been none tonight.

“He bribed them.”

Rex whispered, looking over at where Elvis and Dori stood, as she fed him a deviled egg and then a brisket slider, sticking her finger in his mouth to lick the barbecue sauce off. Her high laugh echoed all throughout he warehouse, prompting Bess to roll her eyes.

“Bribed them?”

“Yeah,” Rex continued. “Not to play ‘Hound Dog,’ not to play any of ‘em. And he bought cases of cigarettes for all the guys in our unit. He wants to make sure tonight is nice, smooth, and normal. As it can be for him, I suppose.”

Before she had the opportunity to inquire further Bess was distracted by the band as they started up a new song, a rendition of Johnny Mathis’ “Chances Are,” and she watched Dori squeal that she loved this song.

Bess smiled at Rex.

“Well Private, want to cut a rug?”

He hesitated. “Uh, I think -" he looked over at Elvis, who was making his way to the corner of the dance floor. “Probably better if I don’t, gonna go check out the chow.”

“C’mon, you little Yankee, I’ll dance with you, even if you have no taste in brisket.” Jim took her hand and raised his eyebrow. “By the way, Elvis Presley is in love with you Bess.”

“Stop it, Jameson.”

“Did you see how his buddy hardly touched you?”

“How would he know? These boys don’t talk about their crushes in their bunks at night. ‘Sides,he is here with a date.”

“Oh fooey! Elvis doesn’t have to tell him anything, all Rexadus, or anyone need do, is clock how that boy looks at you and, man, that’s all she wrote. You don’t dance with another soldier’s girl, it’s the code. Dori doesn’t stand a chance, honey, he’s just too polite to turn her down. I bet his mama is just like her. Which is probably why he likes you.”

Bess gave him a stare.

“Ok, maybe not exactly like Dori. I cannot see the good Mrs. Presley making you go all the way to Dallas so she can dress shop at the boutiques. They were share croppers, right?”

Bess nodded at Jim as she swayed with him, attempting very hard not to look over at where Elvis and Dori slowly danced.

“Something like that. Very very poor. But Jim, you dance with me, and I was your friend’s girl for two years.”

“That’s different Bess, I hate most women.” Jim looked back over at Rex and his voice trailed off. "Most people, actually. You are saving me from all the eager beavers here looking to snag an officer as a husband.”

“Well, looking around, some of them would probably settle for snagging just a night with an officer.”

They laughed and Jim led her around the dance floor in perhaps the most chaste slow grip of any of any officer or gentleman that danced a slow dance that evening.

The song ended, and the band kept going with their version of Sam Cooke’s hit “You Send Me.”

Bess could not help herself, and found her eyes move to watch Dori press her cheek to Elvis’ and it made Bess’ stomach clench inadvertently. Elvis’ eyes locked on hers while he pulled Dori tighter to him, tilting his head with a smirk. Something in his eyes told Bess he could tell how much she envied her girlfriend, a fact she refused to even concede to herself as she looked away, scanning the room for her sister. To her dismay, Kay was now kissing her dweeby young lieutenant toward the back of the warehouse, not so much dancing as staggering back and forth in place.

Hitting someone’s shoulder, Bess turned to apologize until she saw Elvis had moved Dori right behind them. She stepped hard on Elvis’ foot, then apologized loudly and profusely. That didn’t get him to scout off and they remained dancing next to each other as Jim ignored Bess’s pinches at his wrists clearly signaling for him to lead her away.

“Why hello there, Moo Moo, fancy bumping into you here?”

Dori smiled big and pushed her hands further up around Elvis neck as she swayed to the rhythm.

“Moo Moo? Y’all are gonna havta tell me bout that” Dori giggled. “And look at you Bessie, honey, I just LOVE your dress.” Her eyes moved to Jim. “Y’all having fun?”

Bess stepped closer to Jim, nodding and avoiding the coy irreverence in Elvis’ dark blue eyes as she slyly tried to navigate her partner away from them. She kicked Jim’s shin to let him know that if he did not politely guide her away this very instant she would begin to kick harder.

*******************************************************

Leaning against the wall during a ballad, Bess found herself making a mental note that Elvis’ seemed to avoid dancing to the faster songs. During this one, he had gone off to get some punch and then started walking in her direction only to be assaulted by a troop of MWR committee members, offering him samples of the desserts they had baked as a pretext to come and talk to him. Bess smiled as one asked him to dance, then turned at Mabel’s voice, observing the rosy glow of the other secretary’s cheeks.

“Mhmmm, the punch is good tonight.”

Bess smiled, then leaned in to smell Mabel’s glass.

“How many of these have you had, Mabel?”

The older woman replied without missing a beat. “Five.”

“I’m cutting you off, I think it’s been spiked.”

“Of course it has. By me.” Mabel took her glass back, gulping the rest down with a wink. “Someone needed to liven up this funeral. Hold this for me, won’t you?” She asked, and Bess’ jaw dropped a bit as she watched Mabel cut in on Dori.

Bess wondered if Mabel still preferred Burt Lancaster to the movie star she currently leaned her head against, happily watching her colleague cozily nuzzle into Elvis tall frame. He was a good sport, joking and swaying with Mabel for a second dance, then stepping to the side and chatting with another swarm of woman who tried to contain their eagerness as they brought him another tribute of dessert platters.

Bess danced to The Flapjacks performance of “Jambalaya,” but quit as the music turned toward more and more ballads while the night went on. It was late, the people on the dance floor seemed to have coupled up and the decorum had slowly fallen to the wayside as the senior personnel disappeared. The air fell thick with a heady, hazy lust provoked by the swell of sweet, slow rhythm and blues and the release dancing provided from the stress of barracks life. Jim had ducked out, and Bess wished she had given Kay her keys and gone with him. She managed to stay as far away from Elvis as she could through he evening, which wasn’t hard. If Dori was not monopolizing him, he only made it a few feet before another woman tapped on his shoulder. During this time, Dori had cornered her and begun drilling Bess for information, asking why she didn’t pick up her phone anymore, and what the deal was with Elvis.

“Moo Moo? Is that a nick name? Are you sure y’all are just friends? Honey, say the word, and I will be on my way. I do not throw myself at men.”

Thinking of their double date last week, Bess restrained herself from explaining that this seemed to be Dori’s primary hobby.

“I promise, it’s a silly nick name, Moo Moo is what he called his childhood cow named, get this, Bess. I’m telling you, Doreen, we’ve just accidentally stumbled into a very casual friendship.” She rubbed her friend’s shoulder, and looked out at Elvis laughing with his dance partner.

“He's lonely, and just jives more with women. You saw him with Mabel in the office. I’m not saying I see wedding bells in your future either. But then again, Dori, you don’t want to get romantically involved with Elvis Presley, do you? I can only imagine the havoc he is going to wreak on the girls in this town once he gets his bearing and into phase two. That boy is a fast operator, so fast you don’t even know what happened and boom, you’re asking him out.”

Dori narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm. Well, honestly I don’t want to marry him, Bessie Boo. I just want to experience him. He is so soft, Bess. That jaw! And those eyes. Ufffff. And when he kisses you, oh, it’s like having lightening strike your cheek. I’m fixin’ to get more before the night is over, hopefully with my mouth.”

She winked as the song ended, and strode off to get him back. Bess had to giggle at the glare Dori shot a younger girl from the switchboard office who looked like she was about to ask Elvis to dance.

Lonely, awkward, and ready to be done, Bess rolled off the wall and told Kay she was ready to leave. Her sister politely told her to get bent, promising Dickey would drive her home. So Bess subtlety slipped out of the side door next to the stage and made her way towards her car, ambling slowly in the cool evening air. Bess found it a sweet respite from the crowded, stuffy ware house stuffy. Out here, it was peaceful, and she savored the darkness as she looked up into the black sky. The stars and moon were hidden by some clouds, and Bess tried to get lost in the murky shadows as she wandered away from the sounds of the dance. She begged the wind to tamp down the anxious buzzing in her head. It was then, when she paused in the passage way between two tall buildings, that she heard the sound of footsteps following her, and turned to see a tall, dark figure striding toward her with purposeful, swift steps. His shoulders were back and his hands were out and he slowed when he heard Bess speak.

“All dressed up and marching in a hurry, huh? Loose your parade, Tupelo?”

Elvis’ gait turned into a wide swagger and Bess stumbled into the building backing away from the force of Elvis’ magnetism. It was not a smart escape strategy because he followed in step, his hands on his waist as he looked her over.

“Al - al - always, the smart ass, huh?”

“I’ve been a smart ass my whole life, Tupelo. Try to keep up.”

Elvis shook his head, chuckling low.

“You’re staring. Stop it.”

“Honey, if you didn’t want me to stare at you, shoulda worn a different dress.”

She gasped, and Elvis stepped closer, his right arm up against the wall while his left moved over her waist and he whispered into her forehead, his voice was low, teasing, almost babyish.

“Be honest, Moo Moo, did you come out here cuz you wanted me to chase you?”

Bess looked at the eaves of the building above her, she could hear the faint sound of the band back at the dance playing “The Girl Can’t Help It” and Elvis hips swayed very slowly at half time with the beat.

“Nope, I, I was leaving, actually.”

“How could you leave without dancing with me, baby. Not even once. An ya hardly even talked to me all night. Every other girl in there is ready and rearin' ta pounce on me, but you make me come chase after you?”

“I’m - I’m not like very other girl, Elvis. I’m not trying - trying to ….”

The way his thumb trailed up her arm made Bess shudder and she lost her train of thought.

“Hmmm. Not tryin’ to what, Moo, huh?”

He leaned into her ear as he spoke, and the skin on her bare shoulder prickled as his thumb rubbed over it while he whispered softly.

His voice was warm on her neck, and it reminded her of the first summer Mama drove her and Kay down to Galveston spontaneously for a week. They had stayed in a cheap motel across from the beach and enjoyed the warm Gulf water while eating fried shrimp and hush puppies and getting sunburnt. There, in the golden sun of the Texas Gulf, Bess had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to move through the world. No, standing where the sun met the surf had set her free, and she had become a wild animal dancing in the water and screaming into the waves while the sand crabs tickled her feet.

Elvis’ breath on her neck had the same effect. She felt wild, relaxed, totally at the whim of her body as she bit her bottom lip and looked up at his half-lidded eyes. She wanted to pull him close and scream into his mouth, howl at the untamed force of nature that rippled beneath his cheeks. He tightened his hand at her waist and kissed her neck, but then stepped back at her shudder.

“Ya scared not scared of me, Moo Moo, are you?”

She shook her head, but trembled as Elvis fingers feathered lightly down her arm.

“You don’t never have to be scared of me, baby, I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Elvis, I -”

He kissed her neck again, murmuring into her skin. The top of his cap rubbed into her hair. “Wanna get out of here? Go somewhere we can jus… Talk?””

Just as Bess began to answer, she felt a light sprinkle of water on her nose and looked up as it started to drizzle down on them. The rain brought her wits back to her and she gently pushed Elvis away, feeling the water increase and her hair slip down over her face. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

“You are here on a date with someone else, and I have to go home.” Squeezing him in a tight hug, she kissed his cheek one last time as he nodded, before removing her heels and sprinting off through the puddles to find her car.

**************************************************

Bess had managed to wash her face and get her dress off before she succumbed to the extreme need for a pot of hot tea. Now she stood in her kitchen, towel drying her hair and shivering as she waited for the kettle to boil. Hearing a knock at the door, she yelled out hurrying to the front of the house.

“Kay, the door is open! Or is numbnuts a catching disorder - shit.”

There was Elvis, hat in hand, on her front doorstep.

“Numbnuts?”

She swayed to the side, watching the back of a white Studebaker whirl around the corner. A white Studebaker very much like the one Mabel owned.

“My sister’s boyfriend is not the sharpest shooter in his platoon.” She held her robe closed as she looked down at her thin, white silk night gown. The thin matching robe didn’t do much, but she felt more decorous pulling it over herself.

“Did Mabel sneak you off post?”

Elvis grinned mischievously and strode past her into the house

“Hello to you too, Bessie, whatcha cookin, good lookin'?”

Closing the door, she shoved him as he walked backwards down the hallway.

“Don’t you hello me, what are you doing here?”

Elvis unbuttoned his jacket, and draped it around her shivering body.

“Still cold honey?” He drew her in, rubbing her shoulders. “Let me see if I can warm ya up.”

His jacket was still cozy with the heat of his body as he drew Bess into him. Breathless, she let him enclose her in his embrace, folding her arms into his chest as she lifted her chin up to gaze into his eyes.

“There she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.”

Elvis leaned down to bundle her further into him, his hands moving inside her open robe to caress the sides of her body, his nose stroking hers as she closed her eyes and whispered into his jaw.

“Elvis, you shouldn’t be here.”

“I know honey.” He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek at the fold of her earlobe as Bess crushed into his.

Her mind was racing, racing the with knowledge that at any moment her 17 year old sister would come home and probably know how to work the door knob. Racing with the knowledge that her father and mother were flying back to Waco tomorrow and she needed to be rested and alert when she drove to pick them up. Racing with the knowledge that Elvis Presley was the absolutely worst choice for a romantic entanglement or fling, not just because he was famous, handsome, rich and probably already dating any number of women in Los Angeles, Memphis and God knows where else. And therefore, an unimaginable person to be seen with publicly or explain to her family.

But it was worse than that, she could already tell, from the way her mind bent towards him all through the day when he wasn’t around, and directed itself to him with an intense, buzzing focus when he was. For these reasons, she knew he would be the worst kind of all-consuming distraction that she could possible let herself get involved with right now.

Her mouth had other plans. Namely, how could it find his mouth?

“Elvis.” She mumbled as her lips brushed the nape of his neck and her hands wrapped around his body.

“Yes Bess?”

He looked down at her as she tried to find the words she wanted to say.

“I - I - I”

“I know honey, you don’t date soldiers.”

She smiled a lazy, goofy half smile.

“Mmmhmmm.”

He gripped her tighter, pinching the flesh at her sides.

“Honey, dating is not the word on my mind right now. I am not interested in asking you on a date.”

He kissed her forehead.

“I do not have no intention of driving up to your house in my pink Cadillac.”

He kissed her nose.

“I don’ wanna have to come meet ya mama and shake your daddy’s hand.”

He kissed her cupid’s bow.

“And I definitely ain’t about to take you out to fancy restaurant and buy you dinner.”

He kissed her lightly on the top of her mouth, his teeth grating over her lip.

“I do not want to date you, Bess.”

“Good, because I don’t want to date you either.”

“So don’t date me, baby. Jus kiss me.”

**********************************************************

Click here to read Chapter Four: Dance

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keysandopenmind · 1 year

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Writeblr question tag... thing

I had no idea what to call this but I told @girlfromthecrypt I would do it and here I am! Here's some questions I answered.

1) What motivates you to write?

I always ideas knocking around in my head and I figure it's better to do something with them. Plus people seem to generally like what I read when they read it, and say nice things to me, and then I get warm fuzzies.

2) A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

Okay, so I'm probably not going to pursue this WIP anymore, but I really loved this scene.

Context #1: if Ria holds a personal object belonging to someone while she plays music, she can see a bit of their future.

Context #2: there has been an "accident" during a performance of the circus, and Lucy has fallen a great distance to the ring floor. RIa, her best friend, tells May, her girlfriend, to go with her when they take her to the hospital. Ria foresaw this but couldn't convince anyone to do anything any differently that night.

“You should go with them,” I whispered. She looked down at me. “Do you think so?” “She’ll need you when she wakes up.” “She’ll wake up then? Can you promise me that?” “I…” I wanted to lie to her, to tell her that I had seen another vision where Lucy woke up the following morning, right as rain. But I couldn’t do that to her. May pulled one of her rings off her middle finger. “Take this,” she said, holding it out to me. “If I go with her, I’ll be there when she wakes up. So you’ll be able to see it. You come to the hospital tomorrow and you tell me.” I pressed the ring back into her hand. “May, what if… what if she doesn’t? Do you want to know that in advance? I don’t. There are some things I don’t use my power for.”

I don't know if it necessarily came across here but May loves Lucy so so much. Sometimes I think I was more invested in Lucy and May than I was in Ria and Alex (y'know, the main characters).

3) Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Going for a twofer here, Max and Clara from my Drosselmeier Industries series. They're just really natural and easy with each other, and their banter is excellent (if I do say so myself).

4) What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Revisions and edits! I actually really struggle to get the first draft out a lot of the time. #PantserProblems. But once I have a rough idea and I'm shining it up, I thrive.

5) What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Characters by a mile. I always get feedback that I need to flesh out my descriptions and worlds more. It's something that's led me to concentrating my stories mainly in the real world, though it's always the real world with some sort of twist.

6) What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

I'm loving the vast creativity and also the raw talent! I read a WIP excerpt and I'm like "Wow, I must follow that person" and then I read their bio and they're 14? No way was I writing that well when I was 14! (I just turned 34; I feel like I am an old lady of writeblr xD)

7) A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Scrivener is always good for longer works. I also recommend a text-to-speech program (I use a free one called Balabolka) for helping pick up typos or clunky passages.

8) A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I love the virtual reality system Max and Clara play. The Veritas is so realistic that if your character trips over something, you feel the pull in your stomach like you're falling.

I have no idea if it's realistic or not, as I have played surprisingly little VR for someone who writes about it. I did do a VR escape room once. That was fun!

9) What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Having been through many a rough patch myself, I promise you will come out the other side!

At one point a couple of years ago, I was planning on entirely throwing in the towel. I couldn't see a way forward with the WIP I was working on, and I thought maybe it was better to ditch the whole thing.

You have to ride the wave. After that rough patch, I went on to recraft that story into one of my best pieces.

10) Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

@hellisheavenwithyou @careful-fear @ryns-ramblings

#writeblr #tag game #my writing #wip: facing the music #wip: wonderland

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vacantgodling · 1 year

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formatting this is gonna be a bit wild however some sixteen candles nonsense. for those unaware this is a wip that is all based in a group chat (think discord) where the names of threads, usernames, etc all change. but the main point is they’re all queer besties who’ve known each other for 16 years and they get up to Shenanigans!!

(if u need anything else clarified just ask. remember: all typos are there for a reason so if things are unreadable i’ll also clarify)

the proposal

tw(s): mentions of sex, drug use, cursing, bad spelling, lots of slang

usernames:

Nanette Rosenfeld -> Nanette

Ranger Pellish -> ranger danger

Vanilla Vega -> VaniVee

Roger Grant -> no

Tucker Hayes -> TUCKerware

Nanette: So I have some unfortunate news to bring to the class.

TUCKerware: oooOoOoO stry tme!

ranger danger: did ur teacher spring a surprise mid-term on you lmao

VaniVee: or!! :000 you had a overnight shift at work you didn’t want to do because your supposed to be spending time with us this weekend!!!

no: What happened nan?

Nanette: My girlfriend broke up with me.

VaniVee: OH NO NETTIE ; 3;

TUCKerware: shld i bet some1 up?????? was she a bicth?

ranger danger: b i c t h

ranger danger: god i hate u lmaooooo

TUCKerware: if i hd th gif i woulda put it hre

ranger danger: found it

ranger danger: i have that shit SAVED

no: Am I the only one who Didn’t know nan had a girlfriend?

no: Just me?

no: ok.

ranger danger: no lol i was going to ask the same thing

ranger danger: young lady, you didn’t even tell the class you h a d a girlfriend

Nanette: It was short lived. We were only seeing each other “officially” for 2 weeks. I don’t like to introduce people to you all unless we’ve been together for at least 6 months.

VaniVee: omg 6 months??? is this why ive never met any of your girlfriends nan?? >:((

TUCKerware: we met stphanie!

ranger danger: stephanieeeeeeee she was so cooooooool

VaniVee: i don’t remember a stephanie :((

Nanette: She wasn’t worth remembering. After the second time she told me she’d quit cocaine and she didn’t, I realized that it wasn’t worth the effort.

no: COCAINE

no: NAN WHAT

no: THATS WHAT HAPPENED TO HER???

ranger danger: y i k e s

Nanette: This is why I don’t introduce you all to my girlfriends.

ranger danger: bc you always pick the bad ones?

Nanette: That, and because introducing them to you all is like introducing them to the family. There’s no point in introducing you all to someone who I don’t think will be permanent.

VaniVee: aww nettieeeee ; 3; ilyyyyyy

TUCKerware: nanny ilysm

no: <3<3

ranger danger: none of you all love nan as much as me

ranger danger: i love u baby <3

VaniVee: wait but what happened with this girlfriend???

ranger danger: yeah why so soon

TUCKerware: u kno i thro dwn 4 u nan

TUCKerware: say th word n i GOTCHu

Nanette: Said by the same man who calls me ‘nanny.’

TUCKerware: nuuuuuuuuuuuu

TUCKerware: ur liek my mom nannyyyyyy

ranger danger: can u imagine nan being a mother because i can’t

ranger danger: i feel like she’d leave her kids at the mall if they pissed her off

VaniVee: i can’t see nan being pregnant tbh,,,,, . n.;;;;

ranger danger: GAG

TUCKERware: mby getting sm1… :eyes:

Nanette: When I went on a date with her this afternoon, she brought up the topic of marriage.

no: I love how nan immediately ignored all of you haha

Nanette: I was a little taken aback since like I said we’d only been talking for two weeks at this point.

ranger danger: gag

VaniVee: ….. how did she bring it up?

Nanette: She said: “I was scrolling on your instagram, babe, and I see that you take a lot of pictures with the same few people, but definitely with this one guy. Who is he?” She then showed me a picture from my page of Ranger and I.

ranger danger: which picture

Nanette: The ferris wheel one. When we went to Kony Island for my cousin’s wedding.

ranger danger: lmao the one from like 3 years ago

ranger danger: why is she scrolling back so far lmaooo

ranger danger: my hair was so bad in that picture

Nanette: I think she picked that photo because on the third picture, you were kissing my cheek.

VaniVee: i somehow feel like i know where this is going ;;;;;;

Nanette: I’m sure you do, Vani.

no: I don’t.

TUCKerware: nithr do i frfr

ranger danger: she jealous or something

Nanette: I assume so. I told her that you were my best friend, and she said “Oh, so like a gay best friend? Like, gay lesbian solidarity?”

ranger danger: at least she clocked me for not straight l m a o

TUCKerware: i dnt hve a gaydar bt mine goez off whnevr ur around

no: I had a nightmare about ranger being straight once.

ranger danger: god don’t tell me about it

ranger danger: u may give me nightmares lmao

VaniVee: what did you say nan??? :00

Nanette: I told her that Ranger was bi, so you could call it ‘queer solidarity.’ However, we’ve known each other for 16 years so he is genuinely just one of my best friends. I wasn’t sure how else to respond to her question.

ranger danger: why do i feel like she asked u if we’d ever fucked before

ranger danger: like ‘oh is that how u realized u were gay’

ranger danger: as tho m/f friendships can’t exist lmao

TUCKerware: bt u nd nan DO fck smtms

ranger danger: i mean but that’s irrelevant to the conversation l m a o

ranger danger: if nan got a girl and didn’t wanna fuck me cuz of that i mean that’s chill

Nanette: You aren’t necessarily wrong. She didn’t seem to like my answer when I said that you were bi, so I asked if there was some kind of problem with that, or what she was trying to imply. She then said that she wasn’t sure she wanted the two of us to be so close.

no: Like in general?

Nanette: Yes. As friends. I didn’t mention anything about sex.

VaniVee: :////////////

ranger danger: LOLOLOLOL

no: uh….

TUCKerware: lls iz she joshin

ranger danger: I’M SORRY

ranger danger: IMAGINE THINKING YOU CAN INFLUENCE SOMETHING THAT’S BEEN AROUND SINCE BEFORE YOU’D BEEN THOUGHT OF

ranger danger: its the audacity for me

no: What’s wrong with you and ranger being friends? You’re literally dating *her*, aren’t you?

Nanette: That’s when the wedding part of her question came up. She asked: ‘Since you all are so close, would he be like, the best man at our wedding?’

ranger danger: if u ever get married nan, i fucking better be

ranger danger: i will cry if i’m not

VaniVee: speaking of weddings, i was going to ask you to be my maid of honor whenever i get married nan!! ; 3;

VaniVee: i would love to see you in a champagne dress it would match ur skintone so well ; 3;

Nanette: Vani I would do anything for you.

VaniVee: OR!!! you could wear a champagne jumpsuit if you’d like!

VaniVee: i just want to see you in champagne!!!!

VaniVee: or rose gold?? :000

TUCKerware: wht colors wld u prefer vani?

ranger danger: wouldn’t you like to know, lover boy

TUCKerware: Shut The Fuck Up.

ranger danger: LMAO he had to use big boy words for that one roge

no: hahahaha

Nanette: I told her that it would be too early to consider a wedding between the two of us, and as it were, I would marry Ranger before I married her. However, if I were to get married to anyone else, he would be my best man without question.

ranger danger: nan what are you saying

ranger danger: like bby if you wanted to get hitched that’s all you had to say <3

Nanette: When do you want to go to the courthouse?

ranger danger: oh my god forreal

Nanette: I need health insurance.

ranger danger: TOO RIGHT

ranger danger: but no seriously would you actually marry me

ranger danger: not in like a romantic way because like

ranger danger: ew

ranger danger: but in a platonic way?

ranger danger: like ur my soulmate nan

ranger danger: u get me.

ranger danger: i know i’m like ur side hoe but like hear me out

no: Is ranger proposing in our group chat right now?

TUCKerware: shhhhhhh i gt th popcorn

ranger danger: ur the only person i would ever want to sign off on my medical shit

ranger danger: and like owning a house with you sounds lit?

ranger danger: i know we don’t have to be married to do that but like

ranger danger: nan idk how to tell u that ur my favorite person on planet earth

Nanette: You just did lol.

ranger danger: NO BUT LIKE

ranger danger: i know you don’t know what i mean but you know what i mean

ranger danger: right???

ranger danger: ugh finish your story i’m thinking way too hard about this

Nanette: If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re thinking about this too hard. In any relationship that I’m in, if they aren’t cool with you then I’m not interested in them. You come first for me, always.

VaniVee: I’M CRYING??? THIS IS SO SWEET?????

ranger danger: YOU’RE CRYING I’M WEEPING

ranger danger: NAN WTF DON’T VALIDATE ME LIKE THIS

ranger danger: I’M A NUISANCE

Nanette: Yes, but you’re my nuisance. My favorite headache.

ranger danger: even over ur girl tho ??

ranger danger: i guess i don’t know what you’d be getting out of getting hitched with me

ranger danger: aren’t marriages supposed to be like a romantic thing ??

ranger danger: idk u allos explain this to me

no: Well technically marriage’s are just saying this is someone I trust enough to conjoin taxes with for the rest of my life.

no: So I don’t see why you and nan couldn’t get married.

no: You’re both financially capable to have a successful union

TUCKerware: lls rogeeeee

no: Is it obvious that my views on a successful marriage have been skewed?

VaniVee: i’ve heard about friends getting married all the time!!! aside from all the benefits like roge is talking about, being best friends and wanting to put that relationship before anything else isn’t weird!!!! i’ve seen people talking about it online!!!! especially aromantic people!!!

ranger danger: huh

ranger danger: sometimes i feel like i’m bad at being queer lol i know nothing about this stuff

TUCKerware: sme bro

TUCKerware: bt liek. its not liek theres a LAW sayng u gtta b in LUV to be married

TUCKerware: liek ukno romanticlaly

ranger danger: *romantically

TUCKerware: so if u and nan want to get married because you feel the most comfortable with each other and no one else can get between you two, why not?

ranger danger: damn he used real words for me and everything

Nanette: It’s not something we have to make a decision on right this second or anything. But I do hope you know that your fondness is more than definitely reciprocated, Ranger.

ranger danger: i’m actually crying at work rn i hate y’all

TUCKerware: dnt get it in2 th beeeerrrrr

TUCKerware: i shld pck u up frm wrk 2day

TUCKerware: im arnd there rn lol

TUCKerware: wht time u gt off?

ranger danger: whenever you’re clocking in big boy

ranger danger: i’ll see myself out

TUCKerware: ;))))

ranger danger: i get off at like 9 i came in early tonight so i’m coming home with shit money

VaniVee: :((((((

VaniVee: but that means you’re free this weekend right!!!! RIGHT???? >:((

ranger danger: LMAO yes queen i took off for our sleepover

VaniVee: good <3

VaniVee: and roge, you’re still coming right?? you can bring mittens!!

Nanette: Ah, yes. The Feline.

no: <3<3<3 I’ll be heading over in a bit! I’ll stop by the store to get some extra food, if you don’t mind me using your kitchen, Vani?

VaniVee: roge i am begging you to use my kitchen.

VaniVee: I GOT A LAZY SUSAN SPICE RACK JUST FOR YOU!!!!

no: Vani!!!! You’re too sweet!!!! No!!!! I’m gonna make you so much cake!!!!

VaniVee: YES!!!! CAKE!!!!! <3<3<3

ranger danger: also don’t worry future wife i have ur allergy meds

Nanette: Thank you, future husband <3

ranger danger: !!!!!!

ranger danger: i think that just killed me actually

TUCKerware: llssssss

VaniVee: im gonna start setting up for the sleepover!! see y’all soon!! ilyyy <3

TUCKerware: ily2!

ranger danger: see how he’s the first to respond roge lol

no: hahaha

TUCKerware: I Will Shit In Your Mouth

ranger danger: do it pussy

Nanette: Boys, behave.

no: See y’all soon!

ranger danger: my boss is yelling at me to get off my phone lol whOOps

Nanette: Vani, I’ll be there soon.

VaniVee: kk <3<3

#s: sixteen candles #ren writing

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folkloristico · 1 year

Note

🥰❓️

Thank you for the ask, ily 🫶

So...!

🥰 a fluff WIP snippet

I write so little fluff I had to go way back to an old WIP of mine—hope it’s fluffy enough <3

It’s not edited, so pretend you don’t see any mistakes or typos. And also, do forgive its lenght, I just wanted to share it all.

Ladybug looked up at him in that way of hers that was always enough to make his head spin and his knees buckle. Chat Noir swallowed, waiting for her to continue. Her lips trembled imperceptibly, lingering for a moment. “It’s just—you don’t have to call me Ladybug. I don’t mind nicknames.” She spoke softly, her cheeks flushed, but his common sense suggested he should not cling to the hope that this meant what his heart still yearned for. He hesitated, then grinned at her. “So you do miss my attention after all,” he said cockily. He looked up at the sky and scratched his chin with a clawed finger, feigning to be deep in thought. “What do I get in return for your request?” She rolled her eyes at him, but a smile danced on her lips as she said, “Forget it, pretend I didn’t ask. You’re unbelievable, you know that? You always assume—” “I would never assume, my lady!” He meant to play with her a little longer, but his next words died in his throat at the sight of her lips slightly parted, eyes wide. It was a nickname meant for her and her only, one that, if addressed to anyone else, would only feel wrong and unnatural. It was a gesture more than anything else, a way to prove to himself that he’d gotten over her. He wouldn’t even dream of deluding himself into thinking it would mean something special for Ladybug as well. His lips were suddenly dry. Swallowing, Chat Noir settled for a smirk. “You asked.” What happened next was as close to a dream as it could get. She got up and, propping on the tip of her toes, she blew him a kiss on the cheek. It was soft, gentle. Her lips brushed against his bare skin and his whole body shivered. “You’re such a gentleman, aren’t you?” she said in a giggle, and it wasn’t meant to be more than a friendly tease, but he felt her voice riverberate all the way through his bones, and for a moment he could swore he could catch fire. Ladybug swiftly turned and jumped off the building, disappearing into the night. Chat Noir followed her as though he feared he might never see her again. He knew it. He always had, and everything he did to prove himself the opposite was a pathetic, weak attempt at deceiving himself. He was madly, hoplessly in love with whoever was behind that mask, and he had no idea how to forget her.

Context: It’s a Ladynoir-centric fic post season 3. The wait for season 4 was painfully long and at some point I started writing my own take of how some things could go after Marinette becomes Guardian, but I eventually lost interest and never finished it. I’ve recently started working on it again as a canon-divergent thing where I ignore everything that happened in season 4 and 5.

❓ any WIP snippet you want!

Marinette snapped a glance over her shoulder. Marc had just started bringing drinks to the table and was now grinning at something Zoé was saying. Everyone, minus Chloé, seemed to be enjoying herself. Alya would take a peek at her and Adrien from time to time, but whatever thought might be crossing her mind, it was wrong. Her eyes went back on Adrien. She regarded Adrien for a moment, still having trouble matching his face with the boy who’d been her fighting crime partner in for the last three and a half years. “Did you tell them”—she made sure not to look back at the table should they suspect they were talking about them—”about what happened that night?” “No,” Adrien said. “I was vague enough, but I think it’s only a matter of time before they start figuring out we’ve lied about Hawk Moth.” He bit back at his lip. “That’s if they haven’t already.”

I’ve been referring to this as the Miraculous Team!AU, which may as well be the most canon-divergent thing I’ve ever written considering it’s a whole different take on the characters. Adrien and Marinette still get their miraculouses, but they never meet in middle-school and as a result, Marinette/Ladybug developes a crush for Chat Noir. She also doesn’t meet Nino, Alya, Luka and Chloé up until high-school. And for once, there’s some actual plot!

(And yes, Zoé’s here. I don’t really feel anything for her character, but I think her relationship with Chloé could be very interesting if she weren’t just some character created to write Chloé off the show and so far I’m pretty satisfied with what I’ve come up so far. To me, it’s less a matter of “Zoé is an angel, Chloé is nasty,” and more something on the line of, “they’re both kids who ended up with a shitty mother and used different ways to cope.”)

ANYWAY sorry the info-dump and again thank you for the ask!

#writing #ask #writing ask #mari--lace #my fics

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psylunari · 2 years

Text

Comments: thoughts, types, how-tos, and etiquette (part 4 of 4)

This is better read sequentially, but you can skip to any section. They are as numbered:

1) The basics

2) Thoughts on comment culture

3) Types of comments

4) Writing cohesive and coherent comments

5) Etiquette

6) Technical questions

7) Short-answer questions

8) Long-answer questions

Part 1: Sections 1 and 2.

Part 2: Sections 3 and 4.

Part 3: Sections 5 and 6.

Part 4: Sections 7 and 8 (you are here).

PDF version here, containing the whole thing. It has a table of contents and cute formatting.

♥ 7: Short-answer questions ♥

Shorter, straight-to-the-point answers that don’t delve into serious issues. If you look for in-depth discussions on “the ethics” of commenting, you’ll likely find them in Section 8.

7.1 This fic is old and/or completed. Should I comment/reply to a comment I got?

Fanfiction has no time limit to be appreciated, just like books. If you’re worried only about the fic being “old” or old, just comment, and you’ll most likely be well-received.

Some might reply, “my writing has evolved a lot” or “I’m embarrassed about this work”. There’s no need to apologize, you couldn’t know. The work was still there for consumption.

As for completion, some fics only get traffic after they’re finished. Getting comments after completion might be expected, so, no worries. That said, don’t skip commenting just because it’s a WIP. Some authors appreciate regular comments to keep the ball rolling.

7.2 I found an obvious typo in this fic, a chapter out of order, or posted twice. Should I warn the author about it?

From my experience, authors appreciate and thank you if you warn them about typos and repeated/misplaced chapters. However, if you’re not a regular and don’t have anything else to say other than “chapter 5 was posted twice”, they might be upset. After all, you took the time to comment and said nothing about the fic.

Try to come up with positive impressions, too, if you’ll leave this type of comment.

7.3 There’s a cool discussion in someone else’s comment thread. Should I join?

Comments are open to the public. Everyone can see them, so it isn’t horribly impolite if you chime in on someone else’s discussion. Be civil, add to the conversation, don’t nitpick, don’t correct people who aren’t your friends, and you’ll be fine.

7.4 I’d like to guess what happens in the fic. Should I comment it?

Your mileage may vary. Some authors like it, and some don’t. I myself love it when readers are invested enough to do so. Try to read other comments, even from other fics by the same author, to see how they reacted to people doing it before.

When in doubt, just don’t, and wait to see what happens in the plot.

7.5 I’m friends with the author and have early access to the fic, or I proofread/beta read the fic. Should I comment when it’s posted?

Not mandatory. You can if you want to. Just don’t spoil the fic for other readers.

7.6 I’m reading a longfic. Do I comment on all chapters, or just the last one available?

Whatever works best for you. None are considered rude per se.

7.7 I commented on this fic a while ago, and I’m rereading it. Should I comment again?

Yes, if you feel like it. Even mentioning a rereading will make some authors happy.

7.8 This fic was orphaned/posted anonymously. Should I comment?

Yes, if you want to. Just don’t doxx the author. It’s orphaned/anonymous for a reason.

7.9 I don’t have an account. Should I still comment?

Yes! Authors don’t mind it much. If they do, they lock guest comments. Comments from registered accounts feel more personal, though. I can check what they read and such.

If you don’t have an account, it’s easy to create one, and free on all Big Three™ fic sites. Yes, even if you don’t plan on posting fics ever. Go wild with bookmarking!

7.10 What’s the etiquette for comments in bookmark notes?

Your mileage may vary. Some argue it’s a reader’s space, and authors shouldn’t butt in if they’re not ready to read honest opinions. Some argue you shouldn’t be harsh on public bookmarks, because authors can see them.

Whatever you think about it, if a bookmark is public, the author can see what you write there. My advice? Be mindful and don’t post hate.

7.11 I want to ask something. Should I comment the question?

It depends. The golden rules, in this case, are “don’t doxx the author” and “don’t ask anything private”. Some people keep fandom and personal life apart, you should respect that.

If it’s related to that fic, it’s probably fine. If it’s related to another fic they write, it’s better to ask on that other fic.

7.12 I’m unsure if the author fills prompts. How to find out?

Check their profile and social media. It’s likely stated there. If unsure, contact them outside their comment sections, like in PMs or ask boxes. If those are unavailable, you can write your question together with some comment you would send anyway.

Comments with just “do you take requests?” and nothing else are usually rude.

7.13 An author I read didn’t reply to one of my comments. How should I go about this?

Don’t stress too much about it. Some authors are super private about interacting in fandom. Others are just busy and take a while to reply. Others get too many comments. Others don’t know what to say, or how to respond to positive reinforcement. Give them the benefit of the doubt and leave it at that. Most aren’t ignoring you.

7.14 I can read this fic, but can’t speak the author’s language well. Should I comment?

Yes! You can try to machine translate into their language, but you might end up with mistranslations, and those aren’t always funny. Comment in a language you speak well.

7.15 I got a comment in a language I don’t speak. What do I do?

Try to machine translate it. DeepL Translator is good nowadays. If you get nothing, post it on a writers’ group or Discord server for help. After you can read it, you can reply to it in the same language you write the fic. The reader can likely read it fine, just can’t write in it.

7.16 This fic was discontinued/is on hiatus. Should I comment?

Unless the author has stated they don’t want any more comments, you’re free to do it. Even more, if they mentioned the abandonment/hiatus being due to low engagement. If they said nothing about it, or the hiatus was prompted by external reasons, it’s probably fine.

7.17 The author left all fandoms/this fandom. Should I comment?

Unless the author has stated they don’t want any more comments, you’re free to do it. If they don’t like engagement on old works, they can moderate/turn off comments, turn off email notifications, or simply delete the fic/account. It’s their job to deal with it, not yours.

♥ 8: Long-answer questions ♥

This section covers trickier situations than Section 7 does. Here, you’ll find personal takes and an invitation to critical thinking. TL;DR of Section 8 is: you can say most things if you are respectful enough, but we know it’s more complicated than that.

I’m just human. Whether you agree or disagree with me, remain civil.

8.1 There’s misinformation in this fic on a topic I know well. Should I tell the author?

Let’s suppose you’re a History major. The fic you’re reading has technology during times and in places it didn’t exist. Or you’re in the medical field, and the author got something very wrong about bullet wounds. Or you work in a daycare, and one-year-old children in the fic are speaking full sentences. You get the idea.

Fanfiction might contain misinformation for a variety of reasons. Consider:

Is it a stereotype or common misconception usually present in media, being reinforced? Or did even the canon content get it wrong? The author might have reproduced it without giving it too much thought, or is trying to stay close to the source material.

Is it a case of poor research? Is that information easily accessible? Is it behind a paywall? Is it an obscure fact they’d only know if they were a scholar?

Is the author ignorant? Is it possible they just didn’t research, or don’t know better?

Does the author even care about getting it right? Or are they writing whatever comes to mind just for fun/writing practice/letting it out of their system?

Is it an AU or a fictional world? It could be different from actual Earth at that.

If you don’t know the author, and you can’t infer anything from the author’s notes/social media/comment replies either, I suggest that you don’t go assuming they’re evil. Sometimes, fanfiction is written by very young people who don’t know better, or just adults trying to relax without extra stress about, say, historical accuracy. That’s not to forbid you from talking to them about it. You just have to ask yourself a few things:

First, how big is the mistake? Is it easy to fix?

Is it potentially harmful misinformation? Could someone get hurt because of it?

Could you be wrong? Is it different somewhere else, for example?

To which extent are you willing to help them?

Reflect upon the above. If you’re in doubt about your perception being correct, do a little research yourself. In the end, if you’re set on contacting them, I have a few suggestions. Before anything else, if you don’t want to just leave the fic be, here’s my advice: if you’re willing to point out the mistake, you should be willing to help.

For easy fixes, like wrong dates/names of places, things that the author can solve in fifteen minutes or less, comment what you’d comment anyway, and add something like:

“By the way, would you be up for a small fact check? I’m a [insert your field of expertise], and I noticed a thing in the chapter. It’s okay if you don’t want it, though.”

If they reply positively, then, tell them what it is.

If it’s harder to fix, comment what you’d comment anyway, and add something like:

“I’m not sure if you’ll accept it or not, but I’m a [insert your field of expertise], and I could help you find good research material about it, or even answer your questions based on my experience. Let me know if you’re interested!”

Then, if they end up talking to you about it, follow through with your part.

8.2 There’s bad representation of ethnic groups, LGBTQ+, disabled, neurodivergent, etc. people in this fic. Should I call the author out?

If you’re not, let’s suppose you’re part of a marginalized group. Or you have a close friend or family member who is. The fic you’re reading has a stereotype or misconception you don’t like. It might be wildly incorrect, biased, offensive, outdated, or even harmful.

Fanfiction might contain misinformation for a variety of reasons. Consider:

Is it a bad stereotype, usually present in media, being reinforced? Or did even the canon content get it wrong? The author might have reproduced it without giving it too much thought, or is trying to stay close to the source material.

Is it a case of poor research? Is that information easily accessible? Is it behind a paywall? Is it an obscure fact they’d only know if they belonged to that group?

Is the character’s experience just different from what you know? Can you actually call it “bad representation”? I am Brazilian. While there are shared experiences, it’s not the same everywhere. I don’t speak for the whole country, or expect everyone to have the same background and mindset. A Rio native isn’t the same as a São Paulo native. They’re both Brazilian. One isn’t “more Brazilian” or “better representation”. There is no “right way” to be Brazilian, as there isn’t one valid experience of being an ethnicity, nationality, identity, etc.

Is it just content you don’t like reading? For example, some trans people love transition by magic in fantasy stories. Some hate it. Everyone has their reasons, and they’re all valid. Transition by magic isn’t bad by itself, it’s a matter of taste. Don't Like, Don't Read.

Is the author bigoted? Do they, for example, use a character as a spokesperson for their beliefs? Do they try to moralize through ficwriting? Is there frequent soapboxing in the fic? Do they have a repeated offense history?

Is the author ignorant? Is it possible they just didn’t research, or don’t know better?

Are they a troll? In that case, why would you feed it?

How can you actually tell, 100% for sure, they’re ill-intentioned? Do you know the author? Are you friends with them? Are they active on social media? Do they leave author’s notes? Have they ever stated why they wrote what they wrote?

The possibilities are endless, but one thing is certain: a callout, especially a public one, is not the best way to deal with those. You might start drama. The BAD kind of fandom drama that makes people leave fandom forever and might have real-life consequences. It might affect people not initially involved, totally innocent, and/or unaware of what’s going on.

Unless the author is admitting to a crime, committing one with what they wrote, or planning to commit one, internet exposés are not the way to go. Or not even then: reporting to the police instead of creating online clout is way more effective, and way less panic-inducing. Plus, even if the author is ill-intentioned, and you’d be doing a favor to the fandom by exposing them as a bad person, give it a few months and no one will remember a thing. See: politicians everywhere on the face of the Earth.

If you don’t want to just leave the fic be, here’s my advice: if you’re willing to point out the mistake, you should be willing to help. Offer them a sensitivity reading opportunity, in case the representation is about your group specifically. Introduce them to someone who can do the sensitivity reading, in case it’s not about you. You can also comment what you would comment anyway and add the following:

“I’m not sure if you’ll accept it or not, but I’m [insert the identity or condition], and I could help you find good research material about it, or even answer your questions based on my experience. [In case you’re referring them to someone else, explain who the person is.] Let me know if you’re interested!”

If the author really doesn’t know much about the topic and is wondering if they made a mistake, it’ll show in their reply. If they are bigoted, trolling, or ill-intentioned, same, and you can quit the fic for good with a clear conscience.

8.3 I think this fic could be more appropriately tagged. Should I let the author know?

This issue is more prevalent on AO3, but might still be an interesting read for users of other sites. “Appropriately tagged” depends on a lot of things. Namely:

Freeform tags: check if you missed something that’s already covered;

Archive Warnings: “Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings” counts as a warning;

Content itself: does it appear enough to need a tag, or is it too brief of a mention?;

If the mention is too brief: could it be solved with a simple author’s note?;

Rating: “Not Rated” is treated as “could be any rating, proceed with caution”;

Tagging style: Some are thorough taggers, others aren’t. Overtagging is debatable.

These things are open to interpretation more often than not. Even if, yes, the fic could use better tagging, it’s useless and rude to boss the author around. In the end, you have no say in it. On the flip side, some people have a hard time tagging, and they’ll appreciate help.

If you decide to suggest it, I advise that you do it politely and with a question. Comment whatever you were going to comment anyway, and add something like:

“By the way, what would you think of tagging/not tagging as [whatever tag]? I’ve read it, and it looks like [whatever tag] to me. If this isn’t your interpretation, I apologize. You’re free to disregard this question. I just mean for you to reach the widest audience possible.”

More or less the same would go for suggestions on author’s notes, and you’ll be fine.

8.4 The content in this fic isn’t a common trigger or Archive Warning, but it upsets me personally. Should I talk about it?

Before we begin, let me clarify a few things.

First: while some works in the media do warn about possibly controversial, upsetting, uncomfortable, etc. content, that practice wasn’t too common twenty or so years ago. Yes, even things that AO3 deems “common enough of a trigger” to be Archive Warnings. When you went to the movies spoiler-free, you didn’t have much of an idea what you were getting into.

Second: oftentimes, all you had was a rating like PG-13 or R, and ratings aren’t the same for every country. What you can show to children and teens, and what can/cannot be on mainstream media, varies from culture to culture. A one-size-fits-all rating isn’t possible.

Third: if warnings weren’t ordinary in mainstream media, they weren’t the norm in fanworks either. The main site for years was FFN. The summary length is short. It allows you to tag two genres and four characters. The author has to add anything else in the chapter document. There isn’t an “author’s notes” section. Even the site format isn’t warning-friendly

Fourth: tagging culture in fanfiction rose to prominence with AO3’s extensive filtering options and was made possible by a team of tag wranglers. It doesn’t have many precedents.

Fifth: “Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings” is a warning. It shouldn’t be ignored.

Sixth: current fandom culture favors conflict-free, fluffy stories more than in the past. The odds of finding dark content 15–20 years ago were higher. People were desensitized.

With all that cleared up, let’s continue.

Even if it’s strongly advisable to tag certain contents, tags are still a courtesy. They are not mandatory, and certainly, not something you can use to justify yelling at someone for not pandering to you. If the author isn’t a friend, they don’t know you, and don’t have to take care of you, a stranger on the internet, let alone curate your experience for you.

If you feel compelled to ask about contents being untagged, or even asking them to tag it for the potential discomfort, do it politely. Give the author the benefit of the doubt. Wait for their reply and see how they react to a polite request.

An example of a polite request would be to include the following in your comment:

“That part where you mentioned [the upsetting thing to you], in my opinion, could use a tag if you think a tag is justified. You can’t possibly know everyone’s trauma and story, but it’s uncomfortable for some people, including me. Thanks for the attention!”

It’ll more likely turn out fine, everyone gets what they want in the end. If you start rude and demanding, expect nothing less than a rude and defensive rebuttal.

There are eight billion people on Earth. If every person had one trigger (not common ones, but things from their lives), there’d be eight billion triggers. Don’t assume there was an ill intention of shocking/hurting you. They don’t even know you. It might’ve been, and probably was, something else. The world doesn’t revolve around anyone, not even you.

Everyone has seen things online they weren’t meant to see or didn’t want to see. Sadly, it’s part of the experience. Yes, you are/were a victim of it. So are all of us. Be on guard.

8.5 This fic would be neat, save for a few tropes/tags I dislike. Do I comment about it?

I won’t get into the debacle of “is it morally acceptable to write about [theme]” or “do the themes you read/write mean something about you as a person”. It’s not the point and doesn’t add to the topic. If you are hung up on that, do your research (especially on fannish history), reflect upon it, and listen to different opinions. Just don’t join bandwagons. Remember, the world isn’t black and white, good or bad. Think for yourself. Let’s move on.

Honestly? You’ll play it safer if you skip the fic altogether. Not engaging with content you don’t like is healthier, both short and long-term. It’s ancient, but Don’t Like, Don’t Read is still (or should be) a thing. If the content actually upsets or triggers you, instead of being just a preference, then I strongly advise that you skip it.

If it isn’t your cup of tea and that’s all, no triggers involved, you could read it, but not mention your dislike of the trope/tag. Just comment on the aspects you like. Maybe your opinion on the theme will change along the way, who knows? If you want to talk about it, there are polite ways to approach this.

Fanfiction is a hobby. It’s free to read, and unpaid work people do when they want and can. Even if authors post for validation, they love what they do. Very few people write fic for attention. It can be a thankless activity; hours of work for low or no engagement. If attention was all they wanted, it’d be easier to be a vocal fandom troll or become a meme.

Put yourself in the author’s shoes. If you created something in your free time and posted it, would you like to get a comment that goes like this?

“Aw, it would be perfect if not for things you put here because you love them! Too bad.”

Best-case scenario, the author replies “that’s like, your preference, I hope you enjoyed it anyway”. Changing a fic because of readers’ preferences is highly unlikely. Worst-case scenario? They’ll reply angrily, delete your comment, and block you.

That easily translates to “I don’t care what you like to write, only what I like to read”. You’ve gone out of your way to say they’re gross/have bad taste/are unable to please you. It’s demanding, rude, and not what authors want in their inbox when trying to have a good time.

If you don’t like a fic for its tropes and themes, you’re probably not the target audience. Just say to yourself, “it’s not about me” and go on with your life.

You can write a comment like this without giving away your dislike of the theme:

“This fic is not my usual choice, but I really like your take on [trope/tag].” “I’ve never read a [trope/tag] as great as yours.”

You can elaborate with the rest of your opinion, but try to keep the tone of “not my first choice, but I love it” or “your fic is special to me”.

8.6 I usually don’t like the pairing in this fic, but I like how the author wrote it. Should I mention it in my comment?

I won’t get into the “should people be allowed to ship what they want” debacle, nor the “does your taste in ships mean something about you as a person” one. It’s not my point and doesn’t add to the topic. The same advice for subsection 8.5 works here. Let’s move on.

The fic you’re reading includes a ship you don’t like. You might even hate the ship. Or you don’t typically read it. Or you don’t care about it. Or you like it in canon, not the fanon though. Or it isn’t canon, and you’d like it in fandom if you agreed with the fandom’s take on it. Whatever the situation is, it isn’t your cup of tea.

However, this author does it right. It’s good; great, even. You want to praise them. They deserve praise. Should you tell them something like “I don’t like X/Y, but I like YOUR X/Y”? In my experience, it’s a double-edged sword.

Some love it, feeling special for appealing to readers who don’t like the pairing, and even making them change their minds. I’ve raised awareness for a rarepair in one of my fandoms. It’s not a hated ship, it leans more on the unknown kind. People who weren’t averse to it saw the chemistry and reasoning behind it, and we are now a rarepair fan club of, like, five members. Do I feel important? Yeah, a bit.

Some hate it; why rain on their parade? They love the ship enough to write about it (for free in their spare time, nonetheless). That compliment might sound passive-aggressive, as in “your taste is trash, you’re shipping trash, but I’ll take your writing”. Remember, fanfiction is, by nature, self-indulgent. It’s for fun, and people being kinda mean in their inbox isn’t fun.

Some don’t think strongly about it. They’ll just thank you for the comment and go on with their day with extra serotonin.

I advise you to read the author’s replies. If they’ve reacted okay to similar comments, go ahead. However, err on the side of caution, especially if the ship has a dedicated haterbase or is considered “controversial” for whatever reason. There are safer things to praise.

You can write a comment like this without giving away your dislike of the ship:

“This fic is not my usual choice, but I really like your portrayal of [said ship]” “I’ve never read a [said ship] as great as yours”.

You can elaborate with the rest of your opinion, but try to keep the tone of “not my first choice, but I love it” or “your fic is special to me”. It’s similar to Don’t Like, Don’t Read, but it’s called Ship And Let Ship. Check The Three Laws of Fandom for more.

8.7 I love the idea for this fic, but the writing isn’t great/the spelling, punctuation, and/or grammar need work/it has bad formatting. How can I approach the author about it?

I made lots of friends back in the day by commenting on stories, offering to beta read, and helping brainstorm. Some are still my friends a decade later. I don’t talk to most anymore, but those were smart, skilled people I had the privilege of calling friends for a while.

The culture regarding beta reading offers and concrit has shifted, though. That’s not to say it’s impossible these days. There are many theories on why that is, and I have covered some in this post. Let’s just say it’s harder to do it now and get happy replies.

Here are some ways to deal with those situations.

Note: the tips apply if you’re willing to help them or introduce them to someone who will. Don’t demand quality from someone you don’t know and don’t want to help. They write it for themselves, for free, in their spare time. Don’t act entitled.

Don’t drop a beta reading offer without a regular comment. It’s rude;

If you are new to the author’s work, read some of it first and comment on it. That’ll also help you understand their strengths and weaknesses. Become a regular in their comment section. When you’re a familiar face, politely offer help;

If you’re already a regular, drop the request together with your next comment, leave an identifiable question on their social media, PM them, or something like that;

Don’t take it personally if they decline. Sometimes, they don’t have the time, or writing is their way to unwind, and they don’t want any editing stress associated with it. Beta reading takes time and requires human interaction. It’s not for everyone and every fic;

They would accept a beta reading offer from a friend they trust, rather than a reader they don’t know too well. Try befriending them if they are open to it. If they decline the beta offer, at least, you have a new friend! Maybe they’ll open up to betaing in the future?;

If it’s just a formatting issue like that AO3 bug (adding spaces where they shouldn’t be) or wonky paragraphs, tell them in a comment you were already going to send;

If there’s nothing you can do about it, but the idea is too incredible, try writing it yourself. I don’t mean “plagiarize their fic”, just use a similar premise. For the love of all that’s holy, do not bash their fic in your fic. Don’t even mention their fic. Just write yours.

8.8 An author replied rudely/deleted my comment/blocked me from commenting. How should I go about this?

The first thing I have to say about this is: blocking, deleting, unfollowing, muting, etc. are tools. It’s not always personal, or because you were in the wrong. It’s a way to curate our online experience, take responsibility, and avoid seeing upsetting content or people. Sometimes, it’s conflict-free self-preservation.

People online are mostly strangers. Maybe they won’t even tell you if they’re blocking you (deleting, unfollowing, etc.), let alone why. They just do. And so can you. If people blocked more instead of engaging with what they dislike, the internet would be a better place.

On a side note, DNI (Do Not Interact) signs/lists don’t do much to avoid fights or protect you online. If anything, they disclose weaknesses to people who could use them against you. What you want to do is blocking and muting, but I digress.

Second, if you were blocked, deleted, unfollowed, etc. by an author who isn’t your friend, I strongly advise that you don’t try to ask why. Do not PM them about it. Do not send anonymous asks. They had their reasons, even if unhinged, unfair, unjustified, or random. Leave them be. Move on. Perhaps it’d be worse if you found out the reason.

Third, if you and the author have just disagreed, and they ended up being rude, or they were rude out of the blue, there are many ways to approach the situation. Consider:

Can you still comment as a means of talking, or are you blocked?

Did you say anything that could be misinterpreted as rude? Should you clarify it?

If you were rude, accidentally or not, should you apologize? Could you solve the issue just by owning up to your mistake and not making it again?

If you were indeed rude, did it come from ignorance? Could you educate yourself?

If the author was rude first, unjustifiably so, does it taint your image of them? Should you keep reading their works, or following them online? Should you become a silent reader?

Is it worth wasting time and energy on this? Should you just block/mute the author?

Hope you’ve learned something new! Feel free to share this (for free, please).

If you missed the previous parts: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

#archive of our own #ao3 #fanfiction.net #ffn #wattpad #fanfiction #fanfiction tips #fandom etiquette #feedback #comments #comment culture #psyluna.txt

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bellafarella · 2 years

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Fic writer interview

Thanks for the tag @aeliagioia 🤍

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

262 total works

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,330,852

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

We’ve come a long way from where we began — Ian/Mickey, 947 kudos

If you come closer I can whisper in your ear — Ian/Mickey, 785 kudos

The Good Life — Ian/Mickey, 777 kudos

I’ll Fight For You Tonight — Ian/Mickey, 652 kudos

Sappy As Fuck Drunk — Ian/Mickey, 619 kudos

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I usually do! If someone leaves me a comment on every chapter I’ll answer the more in depth ones over the one emoji ones but yes, I love getting comments so I will usually always reply!

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think I have any tbh. I like angst but only when there’s resolution and a happy ending so I don’t think I have any with an angsty ending.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Basically all of them 😆

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I have written crossovers!

Craziest one would have to be the Big Brother/Schitts Creek one that me and @mariss-ugh did! We worked soooooo hard on that one and it took months to complete but it was so worth it, I had a blast working on it with my bestie.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I’ve gotten criticism on my fics likes typos and stuff like that even though I was a new writer… or unasked for “constructive criticism”

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Love writing smut

What kind? Hmm… oral, penetration, hand stuff, edging, light bdsm, stuff like that. Depends on who I’m writing for!

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yup! I’ve had a few of my Gallavich ones be translated

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!

I’ve co-written with @sleepyfaceandsnark for a Shameless/She’s the man crossover fic

And with @mariss-ugh for the Big Brother/Schitts Creek crossover & we are still working on our Football AU multi series Gallavich fic

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I have so many right now but my all-time has to be Ian/Mickey from Shameless US

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I only have one WIP right now but I’m determined that me and Marissa will finish it! Lol

15. What are your writing strengths?

Probably smut 😅

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably grammar like making sure I’m punctuating in the right places

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don’t tend to use other languages in my fics

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Shameless US

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Right now I don’t have any ships that I wanna write for that I haven’t. That might change we’ll see

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I had a blast writing the Big Brother/Schitts Creek crossover fic. But I’m also loving dipping my toes into writing for Buck/Eddie (9-1-1) and I always love writing for Gallavich (Shameless US)

My fave Gallavich fic I wrote is probably The Good Life or We’ve come a long way from where we began (linked above).

Fave for David/Patrick (Schitts Creek) apart from the Big Brother one would probably be Lessons in Love

And fave I’ve written for Buddie (9-1-1) so far would be Good Christian Boy

Tagging: @mariss-ugh @sleepyfaceandsnark @ianrightsonly @gallavichy @stargatewars & whoever else wants to do this 🤍

#fic stuff #fic writer interview #about me #writing #fan fiction #fan fic #buddie fic #david x patrick fic #gallavich fic

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radexchangeprogram · 2 years

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FAQ

Can I request more than one character?

Yes! You can request as many as you’d like, but I may only pick 2 or 3. I recommend specifying character preferences if you are requesting a larger number of characters (e.g., requesting all the brothers and specifying that you want Satan and Belphegor if I don’t feel up to writing all 7 of them).

Can I make art/fics/hcs based off of your posts?

Yes! I just ask that you please tag me because a) I love seeing it and b) I would love to reblog it so that others can see your work as well!

I don’t think I own basic concepts and do not need to be tagged in posts with the same concept (unless you want, I enjoy reading). For example, if you thought my hcs on courting was cool and you wanted to come up with your own, go for it! I don’t own the concept of courting. I only ask for a tag if it’s based heavily on my work, such as writing an x reader using my specific courting hcs.

Also please do not repost my work! If you want to share it, link it or reblog it!

How do I know if requests are open?

It is in my bio.

Why is your post schedule so inconsistent?

I am a full time graduate student and while I love this blog and writing, that takes priority. If I vanish for a few months, it’s not because I forgot about this blog, it’s because I’m just really busy.

Do you take commissions/will you take commissions?

No and no. With my scheduling being how it is, I am not willing to take commissions as I cannot promise it will be completed in a timely manner.

Why didn’t you do my request?

Either it breaks one of my rules, you sent in a request when they were closed, or I simply did not have inspiration for your request. The latter doesn’t mean it was a bad request, but I can’t force myself to write for every topic. I promise I don’t have a personal grudge against you. Alternatively, your request may be a WIP that is just taking a while because if my schedule.

Typically, requests that allow for a bit more artistic freedom are more likely to be completed as those are easier for me to get inspiration for. I also usually don’t do “MC who acts like (character from different media)” requests as they’re usually from media I have not consumed.

Why do you only reply in reblogs?

This account is a side account. When I made this blog, I didn’t know that tumblr doesn’t let you reply directly from side blogs (I had never made one before). Also, I think it would be rather annoying to frequently switch accounts since I use mobile. I reply with reblogs only because I don’t want to cause confusion if I reply in the notes from my main account. This just keeps it consistent.

Why don’t you proof read posts?

I try to when I remember, but sometimes I either accidentally press post before I do or I just get excited to post it and forget. Please don’t correct any errors I make unless it’s one that makes the post completely unreadable. If I make a typo and write “of” instead of “if”, the post is still readable.

Do you write for other media?

Currently, no. I prefer to keep it tailored exclusively to Obey Me.

Why are you posting/reblogging stuff that is not hcs/reader inserts/fics?

I like to use this blog as a general Obey Me blog at times. I try to avoid mass reblogging, but sometimes I see a post that I’d really like to share on here.

Picrew

#FAQ #not an imagine #subject to updates

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mimzy-writing-online · 4 years

Note

Hello. I had a question regarding your post about blind characters. I have a character in my WIP that must cover their eyes.. but it’s blind. He may need to tell people he is blind to explain why he covers his eyes though. I was wondering how I might write this character without offending. Thank you :)

I think I want to start by explaining the “covering blind eyes” trope and why it has become a harmful trope. I think understanding why it’s hurtful helps everyone learn how to handle it better.

I would guess that the “blind people wear sunglasses” trope comes from Hollywood for the specific reason of 1. wanting to signal to the audience that the character is obviously blind and 2. avoid breaking the suspension of disbelief by preventing the audience from catching the sighted actor look at visual stimuli (because disabled characters are almost always played by able actors).

But this changed the way the public expects to experience blindness. If watching a sighted actor wear sunglasses and say he’s blind is all the exposure to the blind community a person has had, that’s the only model of blindness they’ll recognize. If they meet a blind person in real life who doesn’t wear sunglasses, it’s going to break this built perception and cause an uncomfortable cognitive dissonance.

And then there is the common “cloudy-white blank gaze” that pops up in media. It stems from the fact that cataracts is the most common cause of blindness and the appearance of severe cataracts is a cloudy film in the eyes obscuring the iris and pupil. It can also alter what color a person’s eyes appears to be, making them appear paler and grey in the beginning and then as the cataract advances it becomes more yellow/brown and alters a person’s vision to appear more yellow tinted.

There are lots of other eye conditions that makes the eyes look visibly different. Albinism for instance affects the color and structure of the iris. Eyes might be congenitally misshapen. The muscles might be weak or not work and one or both eyes point significantly outward. Someone who was born blind and experienced no visual stimuli might also have weak muscles around their eyes because they never had a reason to focus their eyes on anything.

And unfortunately humans have the habit of feeling uncomfortable when they meet someone who looks very obviously different from the norm, whether that’s a personal style choice (hair color and style, tattoos, clothing choices) or something they can’t help (a visible disability, skin color, scars).

To the paragraph above, @gothhabiba replied with: “it's very weird & ahistorical to claim that racism or ableism are some kind of natural "human" trait.. like frankly it's apologia”

You’re right, I wasn’t thinking beyond that generalization or assumption.

Perhaps a better way to put it is: I was raised in a society where I was taught from childhood to think that there was only one kind of human being to be. White, cis, straight, abled, conservative. That’s a very western thing and that’s a thing I’m going to constantly be unlearning.

Racism and ableism and homophobia aren’t innate, that’s a western thing that was forced onto the rest of the world by colonialism. And because western media created this idea that the world is white, abled, cis, straight, and Christian-value leaning, it taught people to think that was the norm so that seeing someone different from that archetype would cause a cognitive dissonance, which causes discomfort.

And instead of working past that cognitive dissonance to learn more and realize there’s so much more to life than media taught you, society encourages you to ignore that cognitive dissonance by sticking your head in the sand-- or TV screen.

So combine these two tropes or common beliefs together and you get something a little dangerous: the idea that blind people cover their eyes because they look obviously different and they’re ashamed (or should be ashamed) of that.

And if you’re someone who’s just gone blind or who was born blind and you have little to no contact with the blind community, then this societal belief that you should be ashamed of how your eyes look becomes detrimental to your self-esteem and further builds internalized ableism.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve read or watched a blind character cover their eyes with sunglasses because they were ashamed of how their eyes looked. And I distinctly remember a few times where a sighted friend of the character was trying to convince them to stop wearing sunglasses because there’s nothing wrong with looking different--which is true, but it plays into this fantasy of being the perfect abled ally who saves the blind character from being miserable.

In an ideal world, the character has no reason to believe looking different is a bad thing or diminishes their worth or makes people dislike them. And if they develop this belief, it’s more likely that someone more involved in the disabled community, most likely someone disabled themselves, will set them straight. Or that the character will learn to accept themselves on their own, looks included.

But there are some perfectly valid reasons for any blind person to wear sunglasses. They might have an interest in fashion and sunglasses complete the look they’re going for. They could want to protect their eyes from UV rays while they’re outside. They may experience light sensitivity and sunglasses reduces any discomfort or pain. Those are incredibly common reasons to wear sunglasses whether you’re sighted or blind.

But there are some more complicated situations.

In your words, your character must cover his eyes. You never specified why, so my primary guess is that he has some kind of power that is unpleasant or has devastating affects and the only way to prevent it is to keep his eyes covered. My primary guess stems from this post where an anon and I discussed a retelling of Medusa, a hypothetical blinding of oneself to avoid ever killing anyone ever again, and what I think I would do if I was in that scenario.

So how do you write a blind character who must cover their eyes and avoid some of the complications?

1. Your character must always have the ability to say “fuck off, it’s my business, I don’t have to tell you why I’m blind or why I cover my eyes.”

Most blind people really, really don’t want to get into the nitty-gritty of why they’re blind and how they feel about it and what it’s like being blind with a stranger they’ll never see again or a new acquaintance they don’t know well yet. You have exceptions to that rule where sure, educating the public about blindness is a thing you want to do and you’re committed to helping your community, but I still have days where I don’t want to talk about being blind or disclose my medical crap.

And if someone doesn’t respect their right to their privacy or pushes too much, the blind character is allowed to be angry, is allowed to tell them off and complain without anyone else in the situation vilifying them or saying they’re “overreacting” and “should have just disclosed private information because big deal or whatever.” If they are angry, that’s their right, and it’s not unreasonable, it doesn’t make them a bad person.

2. Your character should not be ashamed of being blind or of covering their eyes. It is a part of their life, they’re used to it by now, even if they weren’t in the beginning.

The shame and internalized ableism is something that should be written about, but that’s for an own-voices story with a blind author. I don’t think an abled person will ever be able to understand how much society expects you to hate yourself and your disability because “being disabled is a tragic thing that ruins your life” and how that does affect your mental health, self esteem, your relationships with others, your medical care, and what kind of accommodations you can get.

3. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few sarcastic lines in response to uncomfortable conversations.

Stranger: so what’s with the...

Blind Character: what’s with what?

S: the... you know

BC: you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific

S: Your eyes?

BC: They’re... eyes

S: but you’re...

BC: Blind?

S: uh...

BC: yeah, I’m blind. *walks away*

Or this conversation:

S: *to some other character* so why are his eyes covered?

(author’s note: which, honestly, that’s fucking rude. At least have the guts to ask me yourself)

BC: If I look anyone in the eye they instantly perish.

*awkward silence*

BC: instantly.

Friend: It’s truly tragic

BC: *melancholic* that’s how I lost my sister. *chokes up* She was so young

Or this conversation:

S: Why are you wearing that?

BC: It’s called fashion Karen!

Or this conversation:

S: are you like... blind?

BC: yes?? why wouldn’t I be?? Wait, are you sighted? Are you one of those sighted people? You poor thing! What caused you to gain your sight? Do you have a car? A bike? Were you born sighted? What’s it like to see color? Do you miss not having to see

God, I want a chance to try that last one. I haven’t interacted with a stranger in almost a year. One day...

4. Honestly, it’d also be cool if someone’s reaction to your character covering their eyes was like, “cool sunglasses,” or “cool *insert random character, even one you made up* cosplay,” (which is ten times funnier if this character is a notable figure in modern society like an actor who people might cosplay).

5. You know, if he’s covering his eyes with some kind of blindfold, he should totally have custom blindfolds for his moods. Like, I have a mask that says “suck it up buttercup” and another that says “not today” because sometimes that’s the mood. And sometimes the mood is one of my floral masks, and sometimes the mood is my cat mask.

So, just some thoughts. I hope that helps.

Edit: a commenter said: “op, unless i'm mistaken this kind of reads like anon meant the character ISN'T blind but lies about being blind to explain covering their eyes? it seems like they made a typo on the word "isn't"”

So my original response to the question was based on the assumption that the character is blind. However,

If the character is not blind, then do not under any circumstances have them lie and say they’re blind to escape a mild inconvenience.

It’s better to have the character actually explain the situation or straight up leave the conversation or invent a more ridiculous lie than to perpetuate the very real stereotype and misconception that there are people who fake being blind and therefore it’s okay to discriminate or harass them if you even suspect they’re faking.

Do not under any circumstances perpetuate that stereotype. Do not harass someone because you don’t think they’re blind enough.

#blind character #writeblr #writing community #disabled character #writing tropes #trope talk #blindness tropes #Anonymous

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jerzwriter · 3 years

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Chapter 13 - Break My Heart Again

Book: Open Heart 3 (Post Series)

Series: Delaying the Inevitable

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC Tobias Carrick x F!MC

Rating: Chapter: Teen

Summary: In this chapter: Ethan’s demons haunt him and lead him to make a heartbreaking decision.

Category: Extended Series (WIP)

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, alcohol and more angst.

**** PLEASE READ ALL A/N's ** REALLY PLEASE 😊 ****

A/N: I have REALLY warned you about this chapter. IT IS PAINFUL. I cried writing it, I cried editing it and I just cannot bear to edit once more, so excuse any typos or grammatical errors that remain – I’ll deal with them sometime in the future.

A/N 2: There may be a lot of hate for a beloved character here (or a lot hate for a not so beloved writer… me). I’d ask you to refrain from hate for both, realizing that this story is about people struggling with life and relationships while they are coping with baggage and unresolved trauma. People who are broken will continue to cut those around them until they heal, and that is what is happening in this chapter. It does not make the behavior excusable, but good people do bad things for… reasons.

A/N 3: At the end I have links to some AMAZING FLUFF… I’m looking to heal you.

A/N 4: BUT if you want a little more heartbreak, I am sharing this song. I love this song, but it is heart wrenching. I listened to it often when looking for inspiration for this chapter. I feel it can apply to Ethan/Casey as well as Ethan/Louise. But there are two lines in this that just jumped out at me and said Ethan/Casey. It is haunting, but I think it’s worth a listen.

Break My Heart Again - Finneas

A/N 5: THERE IS A LONG STORY AHEAD AND AN EVENTUAL HAPPY ENDING – DON’T LEAVE ME 😊

CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY STUDIOS

If you wish to be added or removed from tags, please let me know. Comments and reblogs always appreciated. 😊

“We have to talk.”

Just four words and twelve letters, but when combined, few words can elicit more anxiety and dread in the human heart.

When Casey heard those four words fall from Ethan’s lips, her breath hitched, and her heart raced, for very little good has ever come of them.

_____________________________________________________

Earlier Today

“I shouldn’t be too late; Sienna and Aurora have to be at work by 7:00. Some of the others may stay longer, but I plan on heading out before dinner time.”

“Don’t feel obligated to leave early,” Ethan replied. “This is the last time you will all be at the apartment together; I want you to enjoy it.”

Enjoy it, in her precarious emotional state? Casey was aiming for get through the night and manage to smile a few times. Enjoy, it seemed like a huge stretch.

“I’d like to get back here and spend some time with you tonight, Ethan. I miss you; I thought we could have dinner together and maybe cuddle a bit if that’s OK with you?”

Is that’s OK with you? When have I ever had to ask Ethan if that’s OK with him?

“Sure. But I still prefer you spend the time with your friends. It’s a special day.”

Casey crossed the room to say goodbye and Ethan leaned over to kiss her forehead.

She waved to him from the apartment door, “I’ll see you soon, Baby.”

_______________

Every time Casey left his apartment, Ethan felt an immediate change in the environment. Before he knew her, he rarely spent time at home; but once she barreled into his life, he quickly found the appeal of cooking dinners side-by-side, watching a movie or two, or snuggling under a blanket next to the fireplace. Casey transformed his place of residence into a home, so it made sense that it always felt a little less bright when she was gone. He once joked that the sun only shone through his windows when she was present. Now, even though the rooms seemed colder and darker without her, somehow, he felt more comfortable and at peace when she left.

He let out a short breath as soon as she locked the door behind her. Walking to the kitchen, he poured himself a drink and decided to bring the bottle back into the living room with him. He made himself comfortable on the lounge chair he purchased for the sole purpose of taking in the magnificent views surrounding him. A small amount of sunlight remained in the sky, but the forecast called for rain, and he watched as the grey clouds slowly rolled in and enveloped the skyline he loved so much.

Ethan never did relationships. Not really. After the unmitigated disaster that was Floria, he refrained from forming any serious connections. Harper was the closest he had come to an exception, but even then, they both knew they were shared was superficial. They were two friends who undoubtedly cared for each other, but it was never the real thing, nor would it ever be, nor did they want it to be. Other than that, his experience was limited to brief flings that typically ended when his partner wanted something more and a handful of one-night stands. Casey broke the mold from the beginning. She was everything he never knew he wanted, yet what his soul craved for. Once he allowed her to permeate his defenses, a new world opened to him, and it was filled with a radiance he never knew existed. But now, as they faced their first true challenge, he was unarmed. He had no idea of how to fix what was broken, and he was too proud to admit it.

Louise abandoning him a second time was a devastating blow to a man who only recently allowed himself to love and be loved in return. Even before she returned, he had deluded himself into believing he had healed from her initial abandonment. But nothing could have been further from the truth. Though he resisted her when she returned, in time the love and acceptance she offered nurtured his soul. It soothed the inner child within him who had never been mended.

Her return, coinciding with the arrival of his soulmate, brought him to a place he never believed in. And, while it frightened him more than he cared to admit, he simply couldn’t get enough. He felt loved, cherished, and safe. Now, with his previous defenses no longer in place, he was forced to cope with another betrayal at the hands of the one woman who is supposed to love him forever. She left again with no more than a piece of paper addressed to Casey left behind. For a man who needed to feel in control, he was left with none.

He could not cope as a nearly 40-year-old man because the traumatized boy he was when she initially left rose to the surface. Sadly, he could not see this for himself, and he was unwilling to hear it from those who loved him.

Deep down, he knew that neither Casey nor Alan was responsible for causing the anguish he felt today. No more than they were responsible for making his final decision to allow Louise back into his life. But he was unable to accept that he made the decision that eventually led to this place of devastation. If he admitted this, he would have to accept that he did not trust his own choices. Hence, he would never be safe, never be protected from desertion, and never be rid of his self-loathing. The great irony is his denial of his own involvement was the very thing that would prevent him from healing.

Before Casey, his world was reduced to scientific formulas; emotions and feelings only served to cloud judgment, and he avoided them at all costs. His romantic liaisons were to satisfy physical needs, never for comfort or to nurture his soul. When he finally surrendered to the beautiful world Casey brought him to, he wanted to soak everything up like a sponge. He had sought to take in every moment he could, but now, he believed it was an illusion that was quickly stolen from him.

Casey. His beautiful, precious Casey. She left a mark on his heart that could never be removed, even if he wanted that more than anything. He loved her and he knew that he was destined to love her until the day he died, but he didn’t want love anymore. Love could only lead to pain, and he knew that he would not withstand one more rejection. Self-preservation became his sole focus.

Three years. He kept her languishing for three years. He had abandoned her during times when she needed him most. Just one week after being tangled in her warm embrace between her sheets, he boarded a plane and headed to a different continent, leaving her to discover the news alongside every other resident as if she meant nothing at all. He later learned how his actions had left her severely damaged. Yet, she forgave him despite the suffering and heartbreak he had bestowed upon her. She waited for him. She loved him. HOW? Was it a strength he could never perceive in himself? Or was it pure insanity on her part? He knew he was no better than Louise, he had a precious gift standing before him, and he had done all that he could to throw her away. Yet, she stayed and did not know if he admired her or pitied her for her loyalty and perseverance.

His Casey. He never deserved her, and he never would. No matter how much she loved him, no matter how much he loved her, his desire to protect himself would always be greater. He knew he would hurt her again; it was only a matter of time. If he loved her, and he loved her immensely, he needed to let her go. She deserved a life and a love he could never provide. To do this, he had to rid himself of this fantasy he had created that told him that this sort of a life was a possibility for him. .

He walked to his bedroom and entered the dressing room. He moved several objects in a remote corner and retrieved a small, mahogany chest that he kept hidden from sight. As he inserted the brass key and opened the lid, he opened a portal to his past that delivered nothing but pain, yet he could never rid himself of it. He sat on the floor peering at its contents: ticket stubs from the circus, a favorite t-shirt from a carnival he visited, a handmade card, photos, several journals. With the exception of the journals, every item was from the time before his mother left him over a quarter-century ago. This part of him was dead, but he could not release it, so he kept it in the darkest corner of his home. He hadn’t opened this box in over a decade, but he felt compelled to do so today.

He stood and moved to the other end of the room opening a drawer, he gazed at a small red leather box. He swallowed painfully as he clutched it in his hand and sat once more. He opened the box stared at the beautiful creation he lovingly selected just months before. After his weekend on the Cape with Casey, he was certain she was the only woman he could ever spend his life with. He still believed that today. There could never be another, she was his only chance, but he needed to face the reality that even with the woman who seemed destined for him and him alone, there could be no future. It was just another fantasy he created.

Casey deserved to wear a ring like this on her finger. She deserved a beautiful, perfect proposal. She deserved a life full of love and adoration with a man who knew her worth and would show it to her every single day. As he watched the facets shine in the dim lighting, he told himself, he could never be that man. So, with glistening eyes, he shut the box and placed it in the chest. He returned the key to its socket and then swiftly returned it to its hidden spot. He wondered if he would ever dare to open it again.

He returned to his chair in the living room and waited. He hoped Casey was having fun and that she would decide to stay later because for every minute that passed until she entered the door to his residence, she was still his. He needed to treasure every last moment. His heart ached when he heard her slip her key into the door, far earlier than expected. She had left early because she wanted to come home and spend time with him. The fucking irony. This was one more cruel joke that the universe was inflicting on him, and by extension, on the woman he would forever love.

He momentarily lost his nerve. As she stood in the vestibule and walked through the living room and dining area, he could not bring himself to speak. When he heard her in the kitchen, preparing a special treat for him, he momentarily considered abandoning his plan. But he knew that would be a mistake.

So he mustered his strength and walked into the kitchen to see her.

“Casey, can you join me inside. We have to talk.”

____________________

While Casey followed him inside, she tried to convince herself that he wanted to speak about a million different topics. Her heart would not allow her to accept what her brain already told her to prepare for. Part of her wanted time to race, get to the point and deal with the aftermath as swiftly as possible. But a bigger part of her wished for time to stop the very second she sat on his couch. If only she could just stay in this moment forever, but she knew she could not. So with a racing heart, clenched jaw, and downcast eyes, she braced herself for Ethan’s words.

“Casey,” he began with a quivering voice, “I did a lot of thinking while you were gone today, and….”

She shut her eyes tightly while he stalled. Out with it, Ethan, out with it, why are you prolonging the agony.

“Casey, I don’t we should move forward with living together right now. Given the state of how things are… I don’t feel comfortable taking the next step with you. I know you’re supposed to move in the day after tomorrow, so the timing is regrettable, but it can’t be helped.”

Casey couldn’t breathe. Her mind could not register that the pain in her chest hadn’t actually been inflicted on her physically. She tried to breathe through it. She didn’t know what to say.

“Ethan… Ethan, my address is already changed, my things are already here, I… I… I don’t have any place else to go.”

“I know. And I hate leaving you in this predicament, Casey. I have given it some thought, and I think you should stay here until you can find a new place. I will move into a hotel until that time.”

Her head was pounding. She didn’t fully believe that her brain was processing what he was saying because he just couldn’t be, could he?

“Are you out of your mind?” She asked incredulously, “Are you fucking out of your mind? You’re telling me you don’t want me anymore, and you think I would want to stay in your apartment, a place we were preparing to call home together, without you? In what world do you think that’s OK, Ethan!”

“Then I’ll pay for to stay someplace until you can….”

“I don’t want your money. I know how to take care of myself. But, Ethan, I want you. Please, please don’t do this.”

Shaking, Casey stood up and began pacing, walking in little circles, and randomly stopping. She didn’t know where to look or what to do. Ethan walked to the edge of the room and leaned on the wall. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to end things, he had to end things, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he offered her a choice where there was none, knowing that she would have to decide to leave. Who the fuck am I? How the fuck am I doing this to her?

“I… I’m not necessarily saying we’re over,” he felt his constitution wavering. “I am saying that I can’t move forward right now… maybe one day, but not today.”

“Ethan, I’m moving…” she started to cry and she took a few deep breaths before continuing, “I was moving in with you in two days. My God, Ethan! Did you think we’d never face any problems? What if I was already here? Now you’re going to put me out, knowing I have no place to go? And you call this love? Ethan, I have spent three years loving while you pulled me in and built my hopes, only to thrust me away a moment later. I can’t do that anymore. After all this time together, I cannot start backtracking now. You either want me, or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways anymore.”

“Want you? Love you? Yes, Casey, yes to both. But can I be with you?” he stopped and swallowed, “Can I be with you? No. I can’t.”

Casey felt like her body would give way, so she reached for a nearby chair, allowing it to hold her weight. She hung her head, unable to look at him, and began sobbing.

“So, you’re breaking up with me? This isn’t about me moving in or not, you’re leaving me, and you just don’t have the balls to say it………ANSWER ME! ANSWER ME ETHAN! You owe me at least that much!”

“Casey, don’t make this worse….”

“MAKE IT WORSE? MAKE IT WORSE? Can you possibly tell me HOW I can make this worse? Goddamn it Ethan! We could not have been happier! Like a fucking week ago, we were happy and so in love, how could you end it like it meant nothing!”

Ethan wiped a tear from his eye before continuing, “Casey, don’t you see? We were happy because it was a lie. You were happy because you thought you had what you always wanted, but you only had an illusion. I wanted to be it for you Casey, I wanted to be it so much so that I lied to myself and tried to give everything you wanted. But now, I know I can never be the man you need. I don’t want to be that man. I never did. I never should have deluded either of us into believing it could be.”

Casey was now pacing the floor ferociously as she rubbed her pounding head. She was trying to stay calm. Even in this state, she knew she was close to hyperventilating.

This is surreal. This can’t be happening. I must be dreaming. I have to be.

She walked toward Ethan and stood just feet away, glaring into his eyes.

“How can you do this to me? How can you do this to yourself? I’ve stood by your side through everything. When you hurt me, when you denied me, whenever you needed me, I was there. I was always waiting for you. We shared.. we shared something beautiful and, goddamn it, Ethan, we wouldn’t have had any of it if it weren’t for me and now you just want to… dismiss me?”

“You’re right, Casey. You’re right. If it were not for you, none of this would have happened. I would never have opened my heart. I never have let people in. I would have lived the rest of my life safe, avoiding the excruciating pain I feel right now. The life I thought I wanted with you – it’s not sustainable for me, Casey! I should have never exposed myself to it. I should never have given in.”

Bordering on hysteria, Casey wailed, “Are you saying I was a mistake? Are you saying everything that we shared between us was a mistake?”

Ethan threw his hands in the air and fell into a chair in the corner.

“I’m saying it should have never been. You were not a mistake, Casey. You could never be a mistake. You are… you’re the most amazing woman I have ever known, and I love you, and I always will. I am the one to blame. The mistake was mine. I don’t want to hurt you, Casey, but I can’t... I won’t be someone I am not just to please you. And you deserve someone who won’t have to pretend. This has been an excruciating lesson learned.”

Her face was bordering on rage, “I am no more than a lesson learned!!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“YES, you did!”

She walked across the room with her back to him, ferociously running her fingers through her hair. She was trying to form a coherent thought, but it felt like an impossibility.

Casey had never begged anyone for their love of affection in her lifetime, and she hated herself for even considering it now. But she loved Ethan in a way she never knew existed before he entered her life, and she was confident that he loved her just as much; they just needed to get through this trauma. He couldn’t see there was another side. She had to make him see it.

Some things are worth any risk.

She wiped her tears and gathered all the strength within her before she finally spoke.

“Ethan, I want you to think back, Baby, please. Think back to what we have shared. The day you asked me to live with you, when you came home from Mayo, on the beach after Inez’s wedding…” her voice was a desperate plea and her clothes were becoming soaked with her tears. “Ethan, please... please remember. This is only happening because of Louise. Please don’t give her the power to destroy us, to steal your happiness. You know we can make it through this together. There is another side. Ethan, please. I don’t want to beg, but I am begging you….”

She could barely see his figure standing before her through her tears, but from the little she could, she realized her words were having no impact on him. His gaze remained diverted, and an air of detachment surrounded him. Casey felt her heart begin to fracture. She was desperate, and she hated herself for it, but it was beyond her control. With her stomach retching and her body trembling, a weak voice emerged.

“Ethan…please don’t throw me away.”

Her body gave way to the heaving sobs she had been attempting to control. Unable to stand any longer, her legs gave way, but she missed the couch and sunk to the floor.

Ethan turned and watched her shatter into a thousand pieces before his eyes. The image was so excruciating it threatened to crack the stone that was enshrouding his heart. His beautiful Casey, crumpled on the floor, broken, when all she ever wanted to do was love him. Love him unlike anyone else ever before or would again, and this is how he repaid her.

I am a fucking monster.

For a moment, his instincts almost took over. He pictured himself running to her side, holding her, and begging for her forgiveness. But he couldn’t. Casey’s love had made him weak and vulnerable. It opened every wound he had ever endured, and the irony was that for all his medical skills, this was the one thing he could never heal.

Casey was no more than a puddle on the floor, and when he looked at her, he saw himself as a 12-year-old boy. He was hurting her as much as Louise had hurt him. Then Louise returned just to wound him once more. If he tried to repair the damage he had done to their relationship now, he would only be building up Casey’s hopes up to destroy them again in the future. And now , he knew, that the pain was more devastating each time it occurred. He had to let her go, for her sake, as much as his own. If she needed to hate him to make it happen, then that was the price he would have to pay. It was a sentence he deserved.

He moved to the couch, sat behind where she was slumped floor, and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. Desperate for comfort and his touch, Casey spontaneously jumped up into his arms. But unlike every time before, he did not pull her into his warm embrace. This time he reflexively pushed her away, holding her an arm’s length away. Shocked, Casey let out an audible gasp.

He looked into her beautiful blue eyes that had gazed upon him thousands of times before. He had seen them filled with pride, admiration, desire, and, most importantly, love. But as he stared into them now, he saw the embers of hope that had remained until this moment slowly extinguish. He knew this memory would haunt him for the remainder of his life. But he knew what had to be done, and he was about to tell her a horrible lie for what he believed to be her own good.

“Casey,” he said with a hand loosely touching her elbow, “one day, you will look back and be grateful for this moment. But right now, you need to let go, you need to let go because I already have.”

Casey had been inflicted with a thousand wounds since she walked into Ethan’s living room just a half-hour ago. As she slowly bled and faced an excruciating death, she battled on, ignoring the scrapes, the lacerations, and the fracturing of her bones. She fought on like the strong, valiant warrior she was. She believed in their love and its ability to overcome; she was not giving up hope. So, in the face of unbearable pain, she persevered.

But every battle must have a victor and a loser, and in the end, the sword that delivered the fatal blow to her heart came from the lips of the very man who had sworn to protect it. At that moment, she knew that her life as it existed just hours before had slipped away and her only option was to surrender it to the angel of death that had been hovering in the room since she arrived. As strong an opponent as Casey was, she had never been a match.

Without a word, she rose on shaking legs and pulled her jacket off the wall. She turned around in stupor to survey the once sacred ground where love had blossomed, where they had planned their future, and saw it fade to a wasteland before her eyes. Silently she walked toward the door to leave his apartment.

He is going to stop me. He is going to block the door. He is going to tell me to stay. He didn’t.

She walked down the hallway toward the elevator, her feet must have been moving, but she could not feel them. Her swollen, tear-stained face hiding behind a scarf.

He is behind me. He is coming after me. He will stop me from getting on the elevator. He was not. He did not.

She sat on the floor in the hallway and waited, hiding her face in her knees if others passed.

There is no way this is happening. I just have to wait until he comes to his senses. He loves me, he knows he does, he is going to come out any second now. But never did.

Gathering all the strength she did not have, she rose her feet and pushed the elevator button, probably for the last time. This was supposed to be her home, and now she had none. She recalled the time Ethan would teasingly chastise her for continuing to call it his home and not our home, and now those words tormented her.

She could not think more than a minute ahead. She let two elevators pass so she could take an empty one to ride alone. She couldn’t bear to see anyone right now. At least twenty-five minutes had passed since she left his apartment. He had not followed.

Stepping outside and the cold air stung her raw skin. It hurt, burning her eyes and assaulting her lungs. She welcomed it. She wanted the pain on the outside to match the pain within her, even though she didn’t think it was possible. She stood in front of the building’s doorway, not knowing where she should go.

The sky was grey, but not grey enough. The people and cars passing by mocked her. How could they just carry on? How was there music? Why were people laughing? How was everything just going on like normal? Didn’t they know her world had stopped spinning?

She realized she was clutching her phone in her pocket. My phone! He must have called me or text me. I must have missed it. She checked. He didn’t.

She looked up at the sky above and her tears began to flow once more. He was not coming. He threw her away. Sorrow overtook her and she only moved because of the shame she felt from the stares of residents entering and exiting the building. The building that was about to be her home.

She started to walk with no direction, just going wherever her weakened legs took her. She was breathing, but it didn’t feel like the air was reaching her lungs. She walked directly into a young man headed in the opposite direction and whispered a barely audible “I’m sorry” as she continued on her way.

The man realized that she was in distress, and he turned to follow her.

“Miss, are you OK?”

She ignored him and continued walking.

“Miss, please, are you OK? Can you call someone?”

She was forced to stop at the crosswalk. The gentleman noticed the phone in her hands and stepped in front of her.

“Miss, I can’t leave you out on the street like this. It’s not safe. Please call someone to come and get you. Can I have your phone? I will make the call for you if you want.”

I had to find the one fucking good Samaritan in Boston. Doesn’t he know? There is no one to call!

She honed her acting skills and forced herself to pretend she was OK. She knew it was the only way he would leave.

“I… I’m sorry,” she muttered, “I’m … um... I just experienced a loss and… I need to get… home.”

“Can I call you an Uber?”

NO! You can’t!! I don’t have any place to go!!!

“No… I will walk…it’s good for me.”

“OK, at least call a friend… can you do that.”

The light changed. Thank God.

“Yes!” she pulled her phone out and made a show of hitting “Call.” “I’m doing it now. Thank you!”

Who the fuck did I just dial! She looked down. Thank God. It was Bryce. He’s in surgery. She did not want to speak to anyone.

She had been walking mindlessly and she didn’t know where she was. Looking around, she realized that she was nearly in front of Edenbrook. She buried her face in her hands and started crying again. The last thing she wanted was to see anyone from the hospital.

How the fuck did I end up here!

She turned around and began walking in the opposite direction.

Maybe I should call someone. But who? She scrolled through her contacts. Jackie was moving her things tonight, Si and Aurora were on shift. Bryce was in surgery. Tobias has a date. Raf was taking Vovo to her sisters. She knew damn well that any of her friends would have come to her immediately, but she couldn’t bear the thought of facing anyone right now. She felt ashamed, foolish. She wanted to crawl away from the world and be alone, but she was afraid of what would become of her if she did. For one of the first times in her life, she honestly did not know what to do. She was unaware of her own sobs as a toxic combination of fear, desperation, and sorrow enveloped her.

He must have called me by now. There is no way he would not check on me by now. Even if he doesn’t want me, he’ll want to know that I’m OK.

Her hands shook as she took her phone out of her pocket…no new calls, no new messages. The phone fell out of her trembling hand and, as she went to retrieve it, she collided with an older woman.

“Miss, are you OK?”

“Yes,” Casey replied in a voice that somehow managed to be catatonic. “I’m fine.. thank.. can I have..” she pointed to the phone.

“Miss, honey, why don’t I help you get..”

“NO!” Casey wailed, “Please, just .. my phone..” She leaned against the building behind her and slid down until she sat on the ground; she put her face in her hands, sobbing.

“Ma’am, can I just have my phone, please?” she cried.

The kindly woman stood before her, unsure what to do but not willing to leave Casey alone.

As Casey attempted to stand up, she felt the presence of someone approaching them.

A familiar voice yelled out, “Hey, is everything OK here? I’m a doctor, can I hel…Casey? Casey, is that you?”

Casey lifted her heavy head to find Tobias’s hazel eyes staring down at her. At first, she thought it was a mirage, and when she realized it wasn’t, she didn't know if she felt relief or dread well up inside of her.

“Ma’am, thank you for staying. This is a friend of mine. I can take it from here.”

“Miss, is this a friend of yours?” the lady asked.

“Yes, he is.” Casey barely whispered.

She lowered her head. She didn’t want to look Tobias in the eyes.

“Casey, Baby, please calm down.”

He tried to help her stand, but when he realized she couldn’t, he carried her to the steps of a nearby brownstone. He sat in front of her to shelter her from the view of passers-by.

“Casey, what’s wrong? Please tell me.”

She didn’t want to look at him, so she pulled him into a hug, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

“T. Ethan left me. He left me and, I don’t have any place to go.”

__________________________________________

After Casey left his apartment, Ethan went to his bedroom. and collapsed on the floor He stared blankly at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity. The only reason he eventually stood is because of his need for a stiff drink. It was so overwhelming, he felt as if he would die if he didn’t get it and soon.

When he went to the kitchen, he saw his phone lying on the counter. No calls, no messages. He went to call her, but he stopped. There was no way he could endure leaving her again. He had to just let her go.

He returned to his bedroom with an entire bottle of scotch at his side. He sat on his bed staring into space for over an hour, coming out of his trance only long enough to take an occasional sip of his drink. Overcome with a mix of rage, sorrow, and desperation, he let out a guttural scream, jumping to his feet, he tossed his glass against the wall.

He marched into his dressing room and threw things out of the way to get to the small chest he had sealed away before. He carried it to the living room and sat before a blazing fire. He pulled out an old, worn journal and looked through the pages. Each one contained a message from a young man who wrote to his mother from the time he was twelve until he turned sixteen, his sole form of contact with her. Sometimes the messages were tender, a boy looking to a mother who no longer existed. Sometimes they were angry and filled with hate, admonishing her for her abandonment. Once the flames were strong enough, he ripped the journal page by page, throwing each into the fire with increasing rage, only stopping when there was nothing left.

He moved onto the couch and laid motionless for what seemed like an eternity. He didn’t feel or think a thing. He was too numb for that.

Several hours later, a vision of Casey peacefully staring at him while lying in his bed came to his mind. Then he reflected on the anguished look on her face as she fled the apartment and the pain he had caused her.

He rose to his feet and sat behind his desk. He opened a side drawer and removed a leather-bound notebook, a gift he received from a patient some years ago. Grasping a pen he wrote:

9/28:

Dear Casey,

I am so, so sorry.

Love You, Ethan

He tucked the book away in his desk, knowing he would need it in the days, perhaps the years to come.

(I'm sorry guys...)

FLUFF:

https://liaromancewriter.tumblr.com/post/657203097707429888/rumor-has-it

https://irisofpurple.tumblr.com/post/653143757871513600/mine

https://schnitzelbutterfingers.tumblr.com/post/634806649611239425/an-hiya-there-im-so-sorry-for-not-posting-the

https://jerzwriter.tumblr.com/post/656628905169616896/their-first-two-months-ethan-casey

Permatags: @adiehardfan @barbean @binny1985 @bluerosesbloom @brokenmemoriesblog @charisworld @chemist-ana @codykosuckmytoe @custaroonie @everybodyscreamsposts @izzyourresidentlawyer @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kachrisberry @lady-calypso @liaromancewriter @mjlbwork @mm2305 @phoenixrising308 @schnitzelbutterfingers @secretaryunpaid @shewillreadyou @shygirl4295 @thegreentwin @txemrn @txfledglingscribe @wanderingamongthewildflowers

OH Tags: @alina-yol-ramsey @chaoticchopshopheart @choicesaddict5 @coffeeheartaddict @dorisz @heleus @imma-too-many-fandoms @kat-tia801 @lucy-268 @panda9584 @parisa-kh @queencarb @swiminthegarden @youlookappropriate

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

DTI Ony: @delicialola16-blog @dottie-minerva-mikas @gardeningourmet @katrinegrey @larsterz MORE TAGS IN COMMENTS

#open heart #ethan ramsey #tobias carrick #ethan ramsey x mc #tobias carrick x mc #delaying the inevitable #choices fanfic #choices fanfic writers creations #fic of the week #choices open heart

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hd-fangfest · 3 years

Photo

Thinking about participating in HD FangFest 2022?

If you’re thinking of joining this year’s fest, check out our full rules, dates, and requirements under the cut. There’s only about a month until prompting begins - so it’s never too early to start thinking of your prompts! 🦇

ABOUT

HD FangFest is a festival created to explore any and all things vampire and Drarry. Whether it’s dark and angsty, light and fluffy, dystopian, slice of life, or anything in between, as long as it’s got Harry, Draco, and vampires, we want it.

RULES

Prompting and self prompting can include any genres, settings, tones, and plots, so long as they involve vampires and Drarry. Neither Draco nor Harry has to be a vampire; they can be vampire hunters etc, so long as there are vampire characters and/or vampirism is crucial to the plot. Side pairings are absolutely allowed, but Drarry should be the main pairing.

All participants must be 18+.

Prompting does not require you to write for the fest, nor does it guarantee you a position in the fest.

Minimum word count for fics is is 1k. We ask that you aim to keep fics under around 50k, give or take, as your very busy mods will be proofing each fic.

Participants for fics will be capped at 35. In an effort to keep as many slots open as possible, mod participation will not count toward this number.

This will be first come, first served, with proxy claiming allowed. We will also have a 5 person waitlist in the case of drop outs. There is no participant cap for art. Collaborations are more than welcome.

All fics must be beta read prior to submission. We reserve the right to request you get a second beta if your submission has a large number of typos and errors. If you need help finding a beta, the mods may be able to assist you in finding one with enough notice; please reach out to us as soon as possible if you think this might be the case.

While withdrawing from the fest is fine, please let us know as soon as possible that you’ll need to so that we can reach out to those on the waitlist. If you don’t think you can commit to fulfilling your prompt, consider waiting until next year to participate.

All works should be newly created for HD FangFest - that means no sequels, WIPs, or previously published fics.

This fest is not anonymous, so feel free to talk, workshop, and hype throughout the Drarry fandom!

TIMELINE

(this timeline is subject to change!)

Prompting: Jan. 1-30

Claiming: Feb 1-20

Fics due: May 1

Posting begins: June 1

PROMPTING

Prompting will be open from Jan. 1-30, 2022, and will be conducted via Airtable.

We invite you to be as creative as you like with prompting! Give us vampire fluff, vampire angst, vampire enemies to lovers. Give us reimaginations of classic vampire media, or something entirely new - vampire hunters, vampire blood transfusions, vampire spy thrillers, vampire coffee shop AU’s. This fest is an opportunity to really push the boundaries of the vampire genre, and we can’t wait to see what you come up with.

You may submit unlimited prompts. If you want to self-prompt, you should submit your prompt at the time of claiming using our Google form. If you submit a prompt through Airtable, it’s up for grabs to anyone.

Feel free to be as specific or broad in your prompt as you like, but keep in mind that if your prompt is claimed, the writer/artist can interpret it however they want.

Be sure to list any squicks/triggers you’d like to be avoided.

CLAIMING

Claiming will open at 12 AM EST on Feb. 1, 2022.

Each prompt can be claimed once for fic and once for art.

Fic claiming will close on Feb. 20, or when all 35 fic slots are claimed.

Art claiming will close when the sun consumes the earth.

When claiming, choose up to 3 prompts in order of preference. We’ll do our best to match you with one of your preferred prompts, but we can’t guarantee this, as claiming is first-come first-served.

If collaborating, please include information for all collaborators in your claiming form.

CREATING

Feel free to interpret your claimed prompt however you choose. It’s your creation!

Please be considerate of your prompter’s squicks and triggers while creating. Though this isn’t a requirement, please consider not gifting the fic or art to your prompter if you’ve included their squicks or triggers.

Fics must be at least 1k words. We ask that you try to limit fics to around 50k. Art must be a completed work.

HD FangFest is not anonymous, so we encourage you to hype, alpha, cheer and chat with the Drarry fandom as you create!

SUBMITTING

Upload your creation to the HD Fangfest 2022 Collection by navigating to the collection and clicking “post to collection.”

Be sure to fill out all fields as you would for any other fic: title, rating, tags, summary, etc.

Add the fest mod account as a co-creator by checking “add co-creators?” while uploading. Once you’ve checked the box, you’ll be able to add our mod account, HDFangFest, as a co-creator. (This step is necessary so that we can change the post date when fics are revealed. We won’t edit tags or content in your creation without your permission. We will remove ourselves as co-creators after posting.)

Click ‘post,’ and the creation will be added to the collection until it’s revealed.

Once finished, email us the following submission header so that we know you’ve submitted:

Title: Creator/s: Rating: Word count (if applicable): Art medium (if applicable): Warnings/Tags: Prompt #: Summary

(Put your favorite vampire pun in the subject. Or don’t. We love you either way.)

Please warn and tag your fest correctly. We may request that you add tags or warnings if we feel that readers won’t be properly alerted as to content.

You aren’t required to gift your fic/art to your prompter, but you’re more than welcome to do so!

Dropping Out/Extensions

We understand that life gets chaotic sometimes! If you need to drop out, we only ask that you let us know as soon as possible so that we can reach out to those on the waitlist.

Similarly, if you think you might need an extension, please let us know as soon as possible. We’ll be as accommodating as we can, but we can’t guarantee that we’ll grant extensions in all cases.

POSTING

Posting will begin on June 1, 2022. We will be conducting a series of arcane rituals that consult the moon, the sun, and a number of eldritch entities to decide the order of posting. We aim to inform participants of their posting date in advance so that you aren’t left wondering when your creation will come out!

We highly encourage participants and prompters to interact with, share, and comment on each other’s fics at the time of posting!

GOT QUESTIONS?

If you have any questions about the fest or rules, please don’t hesitate to reach out to your mods on tumblr or discord: @corvuscrowned [crow #5501], @m0srael [mosrael#1526] and @jalesidor [versaceofficial#8571]. You can also reach out to us at [email protected]. We don’t bite! ;)

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