#it was good to have goalposts for the first couple months | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rhythmic-idealist · 1 year ago

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Hi all. Some of you know my partner @crimeronan - maybe for her original fiction, her fanfiction, or her assorted queer/polyamorous/chronically ill life blogging.

If you do know—or know of—Kitkat, you might know them as a resource, or as a writer, or as that person who has been known to sit down and write six paragraphs of advice to the scared young person in their inbox. Perusing their blog I see people trading autoimmune stories, younger queer and polyamorous people asking questions about what it's like to be in your mid twenties and settled into those things, and people who found stories who resonated in ways stories don't always succeed at.

Or maybe not! That’s my platonic partner of four years. Happy to introduce u.

If you ARE aware of Kitkat, you might know that she recently FINALLY got an initial appointment with a rheumatology clinic. This after a big medical mystery that’s spanned over two years and taken them to the ER more times than anyone can feel good about.

The good news is that things are FINALLY moving forward. Kitkat has posted a lot more about that entire saga, if anyone is interested, but the main thing right now is that there are test results that are usable in a diagnosis, there will be a diagnosis that is usable in treatment, there are follow-up appointments in the very immediate future that will do a lot of good. It's all kind of astounding after the amount of time it took to get here.

The bad news is that their car broke down.

To say the money situation is already tight would be, though I’m sorry to put it like this, understated. Kitkat makes most of her money from freelance writing, and, first of all, is a fucking wizard at it in ways I don’t understand. But she recently lost her biggest consistent clients when— and she was told this outright— those clients switched to ChatGPT.

Perhaps more to the point— they're often too sick to work. They've pivoted to gig economy delivery jobs, but that is an enormous physical demand on ANYONE’s body, let alone when you’re severely sick.

So that’s where the financial situation is at right now.

I do slot into this, so to give you the story on that: I’m moving to Oregon to live with my partners next month, and will be contributing to the household income then (which is why I'm moving so soon). But I was originally planning to finish trade school first and move in January 2024, so everything’s very last-minute, and a little haywire. I now have at least one job interview lined up in town, but I won’t even be in Beaverton until mid-August, and this auto repair bill is due now.

Basically: because of this auto repair bill, they’re not going to be able to make rent. I expect we as a group will probably be okay once I’m in Oregon and more established/able to help out with the household income, but things aren’t there yet, and this isn't money we're going to be able to make back later.

Kitkat's been too sick to work consistently for so much too long, and that's why they need to turn to community support right now.

(I know Tumblr is famously not a "meet every goalpost before deserving help" website, and I think a lot of fundraisers with less explanation than this deserve support. I'm just a very wordy person. Thanks for bearing with me.)

Kitkat has limited mobility and is going to need to get to upcoming appointments, and speaking honestly, also just really needs access to a car to make things like groceries feasible. She’s not the only one in the apartment with limited mobility or chronic pain. Add to that the gig delivery jobs as a main source of income right now, and this is a necessary bill, just one that is sky-high relative to the income trying to tackle it.

So, you know, hello. I've brought a couple of fundraisers onto Tumblr in the past on other people’s behalf. This time I’ve gotta ask on behalf of my own found family.

The bill has come out to $717.80.

As of now, rent money has been used to pay it—the car has been repaired now, but that money was for rent and daily expenses. There is already financial assistance in play, particularly Medicaid. As it stands, because of this bill, they're not going to make rent.

To account for GoFundMe's fees of 2.9% + $0.30 per transaction, the goal is set to $750.

If you’re in any way able to give, the link is here: https://gofund.me/c0f9d7fe

Otherwise, a share goes a really long way.

Thank you a ton for reading this far. Times are hard all around, so please know: this post is an appeal to those among us who have disposable income and are looking to donate some of it.

Thank you.

$1,323/750

Date posted: July 27th, 2023 Updated: July 28th, 2023

#mutual aid #kitkat car gfm #I WILL MAKE a short post at some point #God. wordy person ever (me)

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the-one-who-lambs · 11 months ago

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🐑🐑🐑 (3) (for the fic ask thingy in case this confuses u lmao)

3. What’s something you learned about yourself as a writer?

This is... a long one. TL;DR: It took me a while but I finally, actually internalized that I don't need to set goalposts for myself and consistently move them.

Story's gonna get vulnerable and involve a few other people too. Many of y'all probably saw me go through a whole character arc but I've never really talked about how I felt about this (aside from a couple close friends).

Around July/August, I noticed my readership going down because I had just finished a big writing project and I was moving on to other stuff/trying to figure out what my next big thing was gonna be. I have always always written for myself but ngl, getting lots of consistent engagement and then suddenly not as much anymore made me wonder if I was doing something wrong, if the quality of my works were going down. I vented to a group of friends (including you lmao sorry Juliet) about it and they were like "chill it's the beginning of the semester and people are getting rly busy it's ok" and I was like "yeah makes sense" but nope, I had just plateaued and was dropping off a little for a couple months.

Around the same time, I posted about reaching some sort of milestone and got an anon (maybe well intentioned but it seemed kinda backhanded) that basically said "oh if you ACTUALLY have that many reads that makes you the most popular writer in the cotl fandom. I'm gonna place u above everyone else due to this metric I just kinda invented." And once I noticed my readership had stopped growing and just kinda leveled off/dropped a little bit it made me anxious. Sadly, "keeping others interested" with my writing wasn't really a concern of mine until this started bothering me

I did know that recognition was not the same thing as talent but silly perfectionist brain thought "oough you're the exception btw. you're just not interesting anymore and therefore you're probably not as good anymore lol"

Anyway. October rolls around. I start getting some asks comparing my writing to bamsara's, starting with them mentioning little details that sound very similar but realistically are coincidences because sometimes multiple writers see a theme/motif and we all start chewing it. Anyway, it's obvious that anon is just trying to start shit. Maybe they saw how I'd been kinda beating myself up abt my writing for a little while and tried to make me jealous of them. I don't know. It's probably not worth trying to understand tbh. I just delete the asks. I keep anons on just in case there's a genuine concern.

at this point I'm gonna interrupt to say EVERYTHING TURNS OUT OK I PROMISE and I'm not tagging you in case it's a sore spot but Sara if you're reading this I'm literally so sorry that me learning the lesson I got out of this involved you getting these nasty messages too.

Bam posts something kinda vague about how they get compared to some writers they've never read before. I hope this is a coincidence but alarm bells are going off and I keep this to myself.

Anon keeps doing this every once in a while for a few weeks; at first it looks like anon is accusing bamsara of copying me (???? like i said, we're just exploiting similar themes) and then it starts turning into basically "they're doing everything you're doing but better." Bam obviously hadn't done anything wrong, so I keep supporting them as I do the other writers in the fandom. Eventually the anon gets kinda pissy that I'm not envious or trying to tear someone else down or whatever. I've kept this mostly to myself and they don't like that.

So when they send an ask in mid-November and this had been going on for a few weeks I finally answer an ask to tell them to shut the hell up (gracefully) and then I forget about it and go to sleep. Wake up the next morning and uhhh. See Bam feels like shit because they got a really scathing message. Comments say it happened during a stream and I check it to see if it's the same anon and it is. Fuck on a stick. I literally burn myself out with anger over the next two days until I donate to their kofi as a peace agreement. They reach out and apologize for something they didn't do and it takes me until now to realize that literally nothing I have worried about over the past few months matters at all.

Anyway. It all turns out fine because we become mutuals and hype each other up. Kicker is, whoever it was forgot to turn off anon in Bam's askbox so we got to block them and I'm pretty sure they deactivated too lmao. I reached out to a bunch of writer friends and checked in with them to violently spread positivity and I've been trying to violently spread positivity as much ever since. Yay. Happy ending but sucks that this had to happen for me to crush my anxiety. Bam and I are buddies now and I've also befriended many more writers since, too. cotl writers we are unionizing.

#hannah's rambles #Well.

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yearofradicalselfbelief · 1 year ago

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Part Three [Moving the Goalposts] - 21/11/23

CW: mentions of anxiety and depression.

Long time no see! Flufftober kept me, uh, occupied (aka manic and frenzied) and then November followed and has, so far, completely knocked me off my feet in a lovely haze of depression. But it’s slowly giving way now, and I’m able to contemplate the future with thoughts that aren’t limited to “oh, no” so it seemed a good time to write this.

I’m moving the goalposts of this Year of Radical Self-Belief, with that in mind. All in all, 2023 has been pretty good to me – although I haven’t done as much as I would like with it, in part because I completely underestimated how much healing I would have to do in the aftermath of the years that preceded it. As of June this year, I’d only been in my new city for one year, and once the dust had settled and I actually came to view my new city as home, it turned out to be the first quiet year I’ve had in…well, ever. And my brain had no idea how to cope with that.

That’s the thing about being herded from one disaster to another year, after year, after year, after year. When things do settle down, it’s very easy (and reasonable) to mistake it for just another calm before the storm. I spent the months following my moving here – which included a very close family member becoming very sick, and thankfully making a good recovery – pretty much scared to exhale, because I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s only now that I’m slowly beginning to trust that things might actually be okay for a while. It’s only now that I actually feel like I’m waking up, and not just sleepwalking my way through things as I wait for the next disaster to hit.

Going into this year, I had a lot of high hopes for myself – namely that I’d be querying the novel by now. I am not. Usually I’m very hard on myself for stuff like this, but right now I refuse to be that way. Because it’s understandable. I needed more time to breathe than I initially recognised, and if I didn’t allow myself that, I’d be in terrible shape. Once the dust did first settle here, in the period when I was determined not to trust it, I was having bad panic attacks on the weekly, out of nowhere. It infuriated me, too, because everything was fine, right? I wasn’t homeless anymore, I actually had a bedroom, my living situation was far less toxic than it had once been, and I loved my new city miles more than I ever particularly liked my old one.

But that was the problem. I could afford to feel it. So then I did, and I couldn’t stop feeling it for a good long while…not least because I was so fucking angry at myself for feeling it at all. Now? Now I’m doing better. Calmer. Well, as calm as I personally ever get. So I’m not angry at myself for spending a year actually healing and breathing and enjoying the peace where I could get it, rather than hurtling myself towards the next thing – especially at a time where I don’t think I could have taken the inevitable rite of passage that query rejections are.

On Saturday the 25th November, I’ll turn 27. My own personal new year. Usually birthdays really get to me, too, because I always meet them in this absolute panic over the fact that I’m not yet where I want to be in life, but this time around I feel fine about it. Hopeful, even. So I’m taking that as a good sign, and I’m calling this the beginning of the Year of Radical Self-Belief. I’m not saying I don’t think depression will bowl me over again between then and 28, but that gut feeling just tells me it’s better this way.

The first couple of months were good – I did a lot of writing, a hell of a lot of reading, focused on my physical health, and just finally began to feel like a human being again. It was a good prologue. But this new beginning is a neater starting point, and I just have a good feeling about 27. 9 has always been my lucky number. I’m 27 this year, which comes to nine, my brother will turn 36 the following week, and there are nine years between us. Superstitious, sure, but still.

I also have actual concrete plans this time around, too, beyond “do better” – which are as follows:

A conscious step back from Instagram.

I’d say “social media”, but honestly I use Facebook twice a year at most anyway, and Tumblr doesn’t have the same negative impact on my mental wellbeing that IG does, so that’s the one that has to be focused on. At the minute, I tend to disappear for a couple of months, return until it well and truly wrecks my head, and then repeat the process. I want to find something that’s a happy medium between the two, so I don’t feel like I’m constantly playing catch-up with the pals of which that’s my main source of communication, but also that I’m not repeatedly having to resort to completely ignoring it for the sake of my brain.

Which ties in neatly with the next part.

No longer posting about novel progress on IG.

This one is a weird gut instinct thing. It’s not that anybody has ever made me wish I hadn’t posted about it – in fact, the people cheering me on over there have been absolute stars, and the beta readers have eased a lot of my fears about it. It’s closer to being done than it ever has been (although it's not exactly within arm’s reach just yet), and I feel like I just need a big ol’ chunk of time where I don’t post about it, don’t talk about it, and where I just keep it to myself and get it finished. It just feels right, and who am I to argue with that?

Plus, I’ve been talking about it for so damn long now that folk are probably sick to the back teeth of hearing about it. If people ask, I’m more than happy to chat about it, but it just won’t be the focus of my posts over there until it’s done.

Making myself do something I enjoy once a month.

I don’t mean this from a standpoint of “read a nice book�� or “eat some ice cream”, but like properly making a day of “taking myself on a date” once per month. I hate that phrasing, but it’s the easiest way to explain it. I’m anxious (both socially and in general), and I also go through low bouts, and when they all hit together I find myself only venturing out of the house to do the things I absolutely have to, in terms of errands etc, and it’s just not good. It fosters the sort of agoraphobia I developed as a student because of some stalking incidents (never live in Wembley, folks), although these days when it does crop up here and there it’s less rooted in anxiety and more in depression, and it’s just something I need to keep an eye on. I enjoy writing, and I enjoy hiding away and reading shitloads of books, but I need to remind myself that it’s not the only thing out there.

This will be the most difficult one, but it’ll also be the most rewarding one, I think.

So yes! I’m sorry for the radio silence, and I’m sorry for the false starts, but I haven’t abandoned this thing! Thank you guys for your interest, and for your loveliness. I feel like 27 is going to be a good’un – so I’m going to see to it that it is. Whether it likes it or not.

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broomchickabroom · 10 months ago

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Ten Good Things in 2023

Thanks @lantur !

Book Clubs! I was (am) part of a truly absurd number of book clubs this year—two for work (my department and the larger corporate group), and one with a couple of friends from high school who are VORACIOUS readers and regularly are like “we can read three books this month!” With a couple of exceptions, I read ALL of the books for all of these book clubs, and ended up having consumed significantly more nonfiction than I usually do. I read about social justice, a significant amount about mental health, team building, and self improvement. Oh, and AIDS—I read a 600 page (densely printed) book about the AIDS crisis, and feel like I took an entire class on it—I understand so much more about that era in American (and global) history.

Marriage! Alex and I both really enjoyed the influx of loved ones that the leadup to the wedding produced. I had a SPECTACULAR time at my bachelorette party, and the wedding day was so much fun. It feels like my love for Alex has just grown—it happened once when he first moved in, and then just being “husband” and “wife” didn’t change day to day life, but it feels so much more settled in love—like—secure and kind. I am very happy.

Meds. I have been on Zoloft for nearly a whole year, and was able to reduce my prescription to a half dose this year, which removed some of the side effects that I didn’t like much. It feels great to be equalizing emotionally, and I keep hitting goalposts that remind me of how far I’ve come like “hey, in January of last year I felt AWFUL when we had no sun for a whole week and this year it only bothered me in passing!”

Mom getting a MN condo. Right before the wedding, my mom bough a condo in Minnesota which seems like such a ridiculous extravagance, but it’s made it a lot easier to have out-of-town guests (including my mom). People can stay longer and have their own space which makes for such a fun visit!

Making clothes! I got really into making clothes from scratch this year, and while I’m not very good at it yet, I really enjoy the process—from picking fabric and patterns to the small successes while I’m working on new things!

Friends, beloved friends! I was able to spend a lot of really quality time with friends this year and enjoyed every minute of it!

Intentional downtime. I picked up two TV shows that I’m watching independently at my pace and have really been enjoying—it’s nice to feel like I’m taking charge of the feeling that I’m always behind all of the pop culture that everyone else is experiencing!

Getting more comfortable being alone. Before my current household setup, I spent a lot more time with my roommates, and was basically never alone or far from the action which I really liked. Now my husband and roommate spend most of their time upstairs during evening downtime which has been a hard transition for me, and resulted in some bad self talk and feeling lonely. I’m not totally adjusted yet, but I’ve been working really hard on being okay with the alone time, and practicing looking forward to it rather than letting it feel sad!

Less scrolling. I cut out about 50% of the time that I used to spend scrolling on Tumblr, fanfiction sites, and social media sites (thus the month later response to Lantur’s prompt :)). I still get plenty, but it’s nice to realize that I haven’t really been on the computer/phone outside of work in a couple of days now and then.

Taking out all of the tools I need before I start a project. Lol, right? Right. I am 3x as quick and productive if I do all of the walking around and gathering tools before I start something, and having the correct tools makes a project so much easier. This is a small part of a larger personal project where I force myself to plan more than I ever have before—i.e., less winging it. Most of the time. I still get to wing it sometimes, as a treat. :)

#2023 in review #Lantur

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clacing · 2 years ago

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if you don’t mind, can I hear your thoughts on the possibility of Homura having internalized homophobia? I’ve seen a post about it or two, (mostly with the scene where there’s a statue of Madoka (?) ) and I have no idea what the census is on it

First of all I am so sorry you sent me this ask more than a month ago but I had exams at the time and then was too burned out to write anything that made sense so this might be a bit incoherent 😭

I don't know what the consensus is either but I can tell you what I personally think: she doesn’t literally have internalized homophobia, but she's definitely coded that way.

What I mean by that is I don’t think the idea that “my feelings for Madoka are wrong because I’m a girl and she’s a girl” has ever crossed Homura’s mind, because I don’t think Homura considers the feelings themselves to be wrong at all. But that has less to do with Homura valuing herself or the nature of her feelings and everything to do with the object of those feelings being Madoka.

Homura holds on to her love for Madoka like a lifeline. She embraces it as the reason for her existence, even going on a downward spiral in the Wraith Arc when she realizes her feelings for Madoka are starting to fade along with her memories because it makes her feel purposeless. That love is essential to her survival, and her survival is essential to saving Madoka and preserving her world - so Homura can't hate it, repress it, or resent it, not even if she wanted to. What she can do is refuse to act on it.

Homura hates herself, but she doesn't hate herself because of her feelings for Madoka. She probably would hate herself more if she didn’t adore Madoka. I think it’s more of the opposite, that her feelings are only a problem because she hates herself and thinks she deserves nothing good. Even before meeting Madoka, Homura felt useless and like a burden on those around her, and I can't imagine that feeling has gotten any better after 100+ timelines of trying to save your best friend and only succeeding in making her fate worse.

So in later timelines especially, Homura starts keeping her distance from Madoka to be able to focus on protecting her. She stops touching her, stops trying to build a connection with her, stops interacting with her unless absolutely necessary (though she doesn’t exactly succeed), which is a far cry from how affectionate they used to be with each other.

Homura won’t allow herself to be happy, won’t think she deserves to be until Madoka is safe, but that goalpost gets farther and farther away ‘cause Madoka only gathers more and more karmic potential - so all that does is make sure she never gets to be happy, because her fight will never really be over.

And I might just be reaching here, but that kind of emotional repression, coupled with the feeling of never doing enough to deserve happiness, because no matter how hard you work or how much you sacrifice, you’re still just a flawed human standing against a system that’s designed to crush you - that just screams Catholic guilt to me. And while we don’t know if Homura is or ever was Catholic herself, we know she did go to Catholic school, which clearly still colors a lot of her language and worldview.

It’s not uncommon for Catholics to “accept” LGBT+ people, but only so long as they’re aware it’s a sin and seek penance for it and keep it to themselves - so plenty of LGBT people who grow up Catholic can acknowledge their feelings and even entertain them to a certain extent, but still struggle to outright act on them. And Homura’s feelings have the added burden of being astronomically strong (I’ll get back to that) which would put off anyone who didn’t know any better - so as they grow over time, she can show less and less of them, but having to repress them also gets harder.

Her literally and figuratively making Madoka her god is an extension of all of that. It’s just much, much easier to justify your feelings for someone if you convince yourself that they are perfect, unreachable and untouchable, because a) They stop being human. They’re a god, and you’re supposed to worship gods, right? b) You can’t do anything to a god. You can’t hurt them or ruin them or make them uncomfortable no matter how much you love them c) A god can’t love you back, so there’s no risk of your feelings being encouraged.

Which brings me to the scene with Madoka’s statue. This scene happens when Homura’s trying to figure out who could’ve trapped all of them in a labyrinth, therefore disrespecting Madoka’s last wish and sacrifice. She makes a big show of caring about Madoka first, about Madoka only - she can’t even spare one second to feel glad that she got to see Madoka again before jumping to Whoever did this is wrong and evil and must be stopped because this is what Madoka gave her life for.

And while all of this is going on, her familiars are mocking her because they know damn well the person who did this is Homura herself, which is proof that as much as she claims to worship Madoka, to only want what she wants, to be serious about respecting Madoka’s wishes, there is also a part of her that wants her there, that lured her into her labyrinth because she missed her.

We flash back to this scene again when Homura realizes she is the witch, except now Homura sees herself touching Madoka’s statue and staining it. That’s usually the scene people point to when talking about Homura having internalized homophobia, because it can be read as Homura feeling like wanting to be with Madoka again (and inadvertently acting on that desire as a witch) is tainting Madoka’s sacrifice, or as Homura feeling like her love is tainting Madoka herself.

And I think those interpretations are inextricably linked, because the queer coding in Homura’s whole arc is very much intentional. Even when it’s not outwardly about her being a lesbian, everything she goes through resonates so much with every part of the queer experience that it still winds back around to her being a lesbian. Homura has tried so hard to repress the part of herself that doesn’t just want Madoka, but wants her with her; she’s tried to put Madoka’s wishes before her own, and convinced herself that she’s fine with it - but well, witches don’t have that kind of restraints. So Homura is forced to recognize that she’s not happy just standing at the feet of Madoka’s statue and worshipping stone, and that makes the illusion shatter.

And once she stops being able to ignore that she doesn’t see Madoka as a god, not really; and that Madoka maybe didn’t want to be a god in the first place; that’s when she decides to take matters into her own hands.

Remember what I said about Homura’s feelings for Madoka being astronomically strong? What I mean is that they literally aren’t bound to the laws of the universe, because they exist outside of the cycle of hope and despair. Rebellion and Wraith Arc especially imply that her magic is self-sustaining because her magic and her love for Madoka are the same thing - meaning that as long as Homura keeps loving her, there is nothing she can’t do (they actually explain the mechanics of it in Wraith Arc, but it would make this meta even longer and more convoluted than it already is). She is an anomaly, on par with Madoka (maybe even because of Madoka, in much the same way Madoka only became as powerful as she is because of Homura) - so when she says that no one could possibly understand her, that this feeling is hers and hers alone, I believe her! But that’s also just the queer experience again - thinking you’re the only one who’s ever felt like this, that no one could possibly understand you, that somehow what you feel is different and more powerful and potentially more dangerous than all other kinds of love.

But it’s also the only thing that can save Madoka, and we know Homura would damn herself for her. She was willing to die in her labyrinth, away from the Law of Cycles, in despair for all of eternity, to keep Kyubey from getting to Madoka - why not take it one step further to give Madoka a chance at being truly happy? Her love made Madoka a god in the first place, so it stands to reason that if Homura puts her mind to it, it can tear her down and make her human again.

So Homura finally sets that love free. She reaches out and takes Madoka’s hands and declares her love for her to everyone who’s listening. She takes the disruptive potential her love has and takes advantage of it, because Madoka used her infinite power to make the magical girl system a little bit kinder to everyone but Homura looks at the system that's causing the girl she loves so much pain and says the system is wrong - and then demonizes herself for it. But she sets it free nonetheless.

It’s not too different from magical girls releasing their despair and turning into witches, although Homura is obviously affecting the world on a much larger scale. I’m saying this not to claim that Homura had no control over her actions and therefore did nothing wrong, but to point out that magical girls needing to make peace with the uglier parts of themselves is an important part of the show. That’s why Sayaka being able to summon her own witch at will was so powerful - because we’ve seen her struggle through the series and fall into despair, and we see her now having full control over her emotions and using the darkness she knows is inside her to her advantage, to be stronger, instead of suppressing it. And I definitely think Homura needed to release those feelings too instead of keeping them locked up and beating herself up over them, because there’s so much power in them - as much potential for good and positive change as they’ve got for destruction - and releasing them is the first step towards embracing them.

Obviously everyone will have different interpretations of this scene, but to me, this is the closest Homura has ever come to asking Madoka if she reciprocates her feelings. Or at the very least, if she can accept them. And Madoka (who has no context for this whatsoever) says No.

But for Homura to be able to ask Madoka if she’s allowed to be selfish, if she’s allowed to act on her desires at all, even if the only reason she’s asking is that at this point she’s got nothing left to lose - well, it’s huge.

I’m not going to say the way Homura went about things was right or even good for her, considering she is very clearly riddled with guilt and Rebellion is overflowing with suicidal imagery - but also there’s something to be said about how sometimes, accepting you’re the devil and going to hell anyway can give you the freedom to explore and potentially embrace parts of yourself you’ve always been too afraid to act on. So, mixed bag?

#madohomu #homura akemi #madoka magica #god i hope this makes sense. this is actually just four different metas in a trenchcoat #mothicalspoken

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sangyeonsofthours · 3 years ago

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ʚ pregnancy series | talking about having a baby

pairing: idol lee sangyeon x female reader summary: Sangyeon couldn't think of a better person to experience this with. And you're just so happy to be with him and to finally be a parent beside him. It’s going to be amazing! words: 0.8k warnings: just some slight reference to sex, i guess a/n: i’m planning on making a series of short drabbles on this topic. what do yall think? pls, any complains or tips or ideas, just know you can hit my askbox whenever you want! thanks! i hope you enjoy it ♡

masterlist | next

“Are you thinking about children yet?” Sangyeon's sister's voice startled you, breaking you from your daydream.

You’ve been spending the weekend with your husband’s family, a trip to Jeju with his parents, sister, brother in law and his nephews. This kind of gathering got a bit rare since his nephews grew a bit older and were too busy with school and preteen stuff. So the good weather and the free time spent together like this seemed like heaven to all of you.

You and Sangyeon, on the other hand, were too busy living the best life a married couple could live after his dischargement. A slow down went on his career since the news of his enlistment and since he came back from service, real life of a common citizen was his priority, while waiting for his fellow members from The Boyz to come back from their responsibilities too. Everything was alright, really.

The smile playing at your lips transformed in an ‘o’ shaped form, caught off guard by the sudden question.

“You know, we all thought that you’d be pregnant by now, it seems like both you and Sangyeon just can never keep your hands off each other!” she elaborates bluntelly, chuckling at the way your ears and cheeks get blushy by her comments.

You smile, knowing she wasn’t exactly wrong. Sangyeon was really touchy when it came to you, always having at least an arm around you or a hand on your waist. He couldn't help but pull you into his lap and kiss you whenever he got the chance to. You’re not much far behind him, since you’re always hugging him, kissing his cheek and getting handsy even if you don’t realize it. And it only got worse since you married some months ago.

The new life, the acceptance of the fans, the privacy of a new home to your own, gave both of you the stamina and the elation of teenagers in their first relationship.

“Well, I mean obviously we’d love to have a baby, he loves children so much” you say smiling, looking over to Sangyeon, who played with his nephews in the garden, a few meters away from the table you sat with your sister in law. “I just don’t know if we are ready for all the things that come with it, I guess. I mean, Sangyeon is a public person and we gotta be a bit careful sometimes.” your brows furred a bit earning a sympathetic look from the woman who listened to you mindfully.

“Plus, we just haven’t had the time to plan for a baby yet.” you continued, shrugging your shoulders a little before glancing at Sangyeon again, who was busy building a makeshift goalpost to play with the boys. “But maybe planning for a baby right now could be a good thing.”

“He’d be a great dad,” she answers proudly, seeing the way your eyes lit up as you watched her brother run around with her kids.

Later that night, you finally went back home craving cuddles from your sweet husband. So you laid in bed while waiting for him, who moved around the room seeming too deep in his own thoughts.

“What’s on your mind, Yeon?”

He paused in place after removing his shirt. You reprime a smirk at the view of his toned body.

“Just been thinking about something mom said to me today.”

“And what could that be to bother you so much?” you laughed a little, shaking your head, making grabby hands to hurry him up to go cuddle you.

Sangyeon grinned, “She said that it has been sometime since we had a little baby around, that she misses it… Like, the boys are all grown up now and that maybe my sister already closed off the fabric, if you know what I mean…” he ended with a soft murmur.

It seems the talk about you and Sangyeon having a baby ran around the family, you think. It doesn’t bother you though. It just gives some kind of assurance, to be honest.

“So, that’s her way to tell you that she wants another grandchildren?” you chuckle.

He nodded almost shyly as he pulled on the covers and crawled up the bed until his body hovered above yours carefully to not crush with his weight. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you leaned up to brush your lips against his while whispering “I would love to have a baby with you, Sangyeon!”

“Would you?” he nudged his nose against yours, humming contently.

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a soft smile, pecking him gently.

“Maybe we could have babies, you know? More than one, so they can make company with each other” he laughs, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Oh my god, will you sush? We barely agreed to having a baby, you already want more?” you deadpanned, shaking your head at him fondly as you stiffed out a laugh.

Sangyeon shifts above you, pulling back a little as a smirk grows on his face. One of his hands went down to your thigh to soft lift up your t-shirt (his t-shirt) as he gently rocked his hips against yours on purpose, making you whine while throwing your head back against the pillow.

“Well, we can’t say we won’t enjoy the process, can we?”

masterlist | next

#sangyeon #lee sangyeon #the boyz #the boyz sangyeon #sangyeon fluff #sangyeon smut #sangyeon x reader #sangyeon fanfic #sangyeon imagine #sangyeon drabbles #sangyeon blurbs #the boyz smut #the boyz drabbles #the boyz blurbs #the boyz fanfic

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junicai · 3 years ago

Text

infinite.

| summary | When Aria's with her boys, it feels like the sky's the limit.

| word count | 2.3k

| warnings | none

| era | circa. June 2021, filming for Hello, Future music video

The grass in the empty stadium had been liberally covered in fake flower petals - the healthy green of regularly watered grass slowly becoming overshadowed by the light pink and yellow that settled lightly atop it.

The white corduroy overalls that Aria donned were splashed with colour in fake paint splotches to compliment the petals - yellows and greens and pinks mixed with blues and oranges in a jumble of streaks that were stark against the otherwise plain material. The Doc Martens that all eight of the members had been fitted for were all padded at the toe and the heel - lest the hard rubber break away skin and cause them to bleed during filming.

Aria crunched several petals underfoot in the heavy boots as she wandered over to the other boys who had been released from hair and makeup a handful of minutes before her.

The sun was just reaching it’s highest point in the sky, the heat bearing down onto her exposed midriff and almost entirely cancelling out the cool breeze that threatened to rise goosebumps on her stomach. The floaty, bell-sleeved crop top was, in Aria’s opinion, absolutely gorgeous. She had already planned out the best way to corner Heejin unnie - one of the stylists that had an especially soft spot for Aria and her pout, when used effectively.

Shaking her freshly dyed blue hair out of her eyes, Aria broke out into a light jog to catch up to Renjun, swinging an arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Hi!” She smiled brightly.

Renjun wrinkled his nose at her playfully. “Hey. You done in makeup?”

Nodding, Aria replied, “Yeah. They wanted to touch up the colour in my hair and stick a couple more tattoos around.” She pointed to the new daisy sitting underneath her eye, and the Make Peace, Not War written in differing fonts along her left forearm.

He aah’d exaggeratedly, patting his own upside-down HELLO on his arm absent-mindedly, before frowning lightly. “Is your colour coming out already? I thought they only dyed it a couple days ago.” Lifting up a hand, Renjun brushed away the strands in Aria’s fringe that were falling into her eyes, cringing lightly when they came away covered in blue residue.

Aria pulled away from his fingers, shaking her fringe back into place. “They didn’t have any dye left, so it’s hair chalk.” She explained.

Renjun made another noise of understanding, looking at his smurf coloured fingertips thoughtfully. When his eyes flickered up to meet Aria’s, they had a mischievous glint in them, and she barely had the chance to turn on her heel and break out into a run before Renjun was giving chase hot on her heels.

“No!”

“Yes!”

Her boots were beginning to rub the skin around her ankle raw, still not broken in enough to stand the test of a sprint through a football field, but Renjun was behind her - holding up his hand threateningly - and that was enough to keep her powering through the burn.

“Stop it!” Aria panted, laughter beginning to soil her already failing lung capacity. Her pace was lagging, but much to her relief; so was Renjun’s. With a final burst of energy at seeing the ground she’d gained on him, Aria made her escape attempt-

Only to be captured by Jeno, strong arms wrapping around her waist and swinging her around in a circle to be plopped right back down in front of a now jogging Renjun, an evil smile on his face.

“Lee Jeno!” Aria protested, wriggling against the arms that had yet to release her. “Let me goo!”

He deigned not to respond, but Aria could see the matching glint in his eye, and she resigned herself to her fate. He shared a nod of understanding with Renjun who was advancing slowly now that his victim was immobile.

“Renjun.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Renjun, I’m sorry.”

His smurf-hand raised threateningly again.

“I’ll do your dishes for a week.”

With a final step, Renjun was now within a half-arms distance from Aria.

“Jenooo-” Aria cut herself off with a squeak, as Renjun dragged his fingers over the bridge of her nose, leaving behind a trail of the blue hair chalk. Aria flailed in Jeno’s grip, but he held her fast, even going so far as to tug her down into his lap on the ground to hold her steady.

Now entirely stuck, Aria resorted to flailing her limbs as much as she could, which really wasn’t a lot when Jeno tucked her legs beneath his knees, trapping her with all four of his limbs as Renjun rubbed the rest of the hair chalk off of his fingertips and onto Aria’s nose and cheeks.

Revenge enacted, her attacker eventually settled back onto his heels, fingers now chalk free - having spread most of it over Aria’s face as a replacement for blush.

Aria let out a small sneeze when the loose dust tickled her nose, blinking harshly in surprise.

With her eyes closed, she couldn’t see the hand Renjun held to his heart, or the pout that Jeno’s lips formed at the cute sound. The two men peered up at each other, silently agreeing that: Yes, it was unfair that she looked so tiny and cute with blue blush. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair, and it was coming for Renjun and Jeno’s heart in the form of a very tiny girl with a blueberry nose.

With a pat on the arm from Renjun, Jeno released Aria from his grip who promptly turned around and rained a series of light smacks onto his chest, only stopping when her rings snagged in the necklace he wore. He made no effort to help her, asides from holding her up when he accidentally leaned back and nearly took her down with him.

“Traitor!” She declared once she had untangled the jewelry. For her own revenge, she ran a finger through her hair to collect the chalk and smudged the colour onto Jeno’s cheek in a bright smear.

The shocked look in his wide eyes was enough to have Renjun coughing out a laugh, the other two soon following. The patch of grass they had settled onto was far enough away from the filming location that there were no petals to hinder Aria’s plans of laying down onto her back, hands splayed over her stomach as she laughed along with the boys.

“Guys!” It was Mark’s call that drew their attention away from the coloured chalk - although Renjun did let out another snicker at the light blue cloud that Aria’s hair left on the grass where she had been laying - and together the trio made their way back over to the other five members.

When Jeno and Renjun got distracted in comparing the temporary tattoos they had both been decorated with, Aria slowed her pace enough to let the two wander ahead without her.

She slid her focus away from the duo and towards the group that had settled in between the flower-covered goalposts, some standing, some sitting.

The bright colours of this concept was a nice change, Aria thought. She loved doing sexier concepts - don’t get her wrong, she loved the empowerment that came with it, and the twitter reactions were always fun to scroll through - but she’d missed this kind of bubble pop. Songs that made something uncurl up in your chest, complemented and encouraged by all the bright colours and messages.

When Aria had read through the lyrics the first time, she’d never felt like she’d loved a song more without hearing it. They meant something, especially to her.

Hello, Future; and all that.

And the costuming was always so fun. Short skirts were never the most ideal things to dance in, and the heeled shoes were the bane of her existence (no matter how good she looked in them) so the sturdy boots and durable overalls was a welcome switch-out.

Her boys looked happy with it as well.

With Hot Sauce, there was an infinite amount pressure to get it right. It was the first full album that NCT Dream was going to release, and it was 8DREAM. They had Mark back. They were all adults at that point. There were expectations to meet. They couldn’t pass things off as being children anymore; they had millions of eyes watching them, and it was like having someone breathing down your neck.

The pressure just kept mounting and mounting until it loomed over them all like dark clouds that you could just know held heavy rain. It was like they were debuting all over again. Re-debuting as eight again. Aria doesn’t think she remembers a single thing from the set at all. The whole thing is just a blur in her memory.

Hello, Future, this time around, is different. The members had gathered in the living room around Donghyuck’s laptop when the Hot Sauce music video aired, watching as the views racked up and positive comment after positive comment poured in. They’d read through each and every one, Mark and Aria translating the English ones that the others couldn’t read.

If Aria cried, one arm wrapped tightly around Jaemin, with the other held Mark’s right hand in his lap, then no one commented on it. It could be, because they had tears of their own in their eyes - but no one can say for sure.

They ended up sleeping on the floor that night, laptop discarded on the couch that was stripped bare of pillows and throw blankets. Curled around each other - this time with her head on Renjun’s chest and her stomach monopolized by both Chenle and Jisung lying horizontal from each other, Aria felt the tension and the fear that had been teeming underneath her shoulders for the last two months abate.

The terror that if the album had flopped, then they’d be facing disbandment like so many kneitzens wanted.

Or worse: Dream would keep going, but they’d lose Mark again.

Even the thought made something horrible curl up in the pit of Aria’s stomach.

No.

Never again.

The odd sleeping arrangements were not something that were uncommon in the Dreamies dorm (Honestly, Aria can’t remember the last time she had slept alone in a room, let alone a bed. They had a system worked out for when someone genuinely needed time alone, but otherwise, most bedroom doors remained open all night.)

This time, Mark was forcibly settled into the middle, everyone clamoring that he’d missed out on nearly three years of them - and he wasn’t getting ride of them that easily again.

To his credit, Mark went without much argument, although that probably falls down due to the fact that god, he had missed them too.

Over the weeks of practicing together, re-working the choreography for the songs that had been released when Dream was seven members only, they found their rhythm again. The one that they had lost in 2019, the one that Mark had taken with him when he’d graduated from the group.

Finding it again felt easier than breathing.

Aria thought she’d never get to see her boys smile so brightly as they did together again, giving the colourful flowers lining the grass a run for their money.

From her position a ways away from the group, she watched as Chenle immediately launched himself at Jeno as soon as he was close enough, tackling the older boy onto the ground where they both landed with a thud, Chenle’s head whipping backwards with the force.

She watched as Jeno - ever careful - had tucked a hand behind Chenle’s head to catch him even before they started to fall, his hand taking all the impact as they came into contact with the ground.

Jisung was quick to clamber up, eager to pull Renjun over to Jaemin and show him what they had been doing. She watched as Jaemin held up a small crown made of the fake petals, held together loosely by the short strands of confetti that were scattered around the goalposts.

Mark was leaning his back against the post, head tilted down onto Donghyuck’s shoulder. Donghyuck was watching Jeno and Chenle wrestle with each other - cheering for one or the other, depending on who was winning at that exact moment.

Aria watched as Donghyuck slowly slipped into silence, tilting his head down to look at Mark’s peaceful expression as the eldest seemed to almost doze off on his shoulder.

And, she watched as Donghyuck lifted his eyes, flickering from each of the members. His eyebrows furrowed, scanning the group again before he craned his neck towards the rest of the field.

When his eyes locked onto Aria’s, he raised an eyebrow, but deigned to stay quiet - choosing against startling Mark with a yell. His expression was enough, though.

Donghyuck understood Aria on a certain level that she thought not a lot of people could. She had a unique bond with each member of Dream, but Donghyuck sometimes knew what was going on in her head before she even did.

Which is why, instead of teasing her for being an introvert, or running away; when Aria strolled up to join the group he just extended the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Mark’s waist, beckoning to her.

After being firmly tucked into his other side, Aria curled into his chest with a sigh, shivering lightly when the sun slid behind a cloud for a brief second and the air felt cooler than it had all day.

Feeling her shudder, Donghyuck tilted his head down to look at her the same way he’d looked at Mark a moment ago, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“You okay?”

Aria nodded. “M’okay.”

(Donghyuck didn’t realize that his lips were blue from the chalk until Jisung pointed it out, some thirty minutes later.)

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a-dragons-journal · 3 years ago

Note

how can i tell if i actually have wings or if i just want wings so i've ended up convincing myself that i might have wings

I am assuming you're talking phantom shifts here; please correct me if that's a false assumption.

Short answer: You will never know 100% for sure, but there are some things you can do to help rule out the possibility.

So "shifter's disease" is a well-known thing, where people read about phantom shifting and suddenly start experiencing it for the first time. Typically it doesn't last more than a couple weeks to a couple months, or fades pretty quickly after you stop reading said material. If that sounds like you - only started experiencing phantom shifts after reading about them, that is - the best way to figure out whether it's shifter's disease or triggered awakening is to separate yourself from the otherkin community for 2-3 months, purposely distract yourself from thinking about those shifts, and see if they keep happening. If it's shifter's disease, they'll fade. If they don't fade after a few months, you might have some things to think about.

If that's not your profile, and you've been feeling wings since before you first heard about the otherkin community, then... it gets more complicated, and it becomes basically the same question as "do I really like dragons because I'm one of them, or have I convinced myself I'm a dragon because I really really like them?"

To which the answer, in my opinion, is really... does it matter? You experience having wings, and unless it's something you can get rid of pretty easily, that's probably going to impact you. As they say, wanting to be something is a symptom of being that thing. Does it matter to you where this experience came from, if it's present now and it's important to you? (The answer may be yes or no; that's up to each individual.)

If it does, the best advice I can give for figuring out whether it's something you're "tricking" yourself into or not is the same recommendation I make for ruling out shifter's disease above. If it only matters to you because you feel like you're going to be considered "invalid" or "fake" because of it, then consider this a gentle reminder that that's not a good thing to base your self-labeling on, because it's a constantly shifting goalpost and because you will always piss somebody off by existing (such is the nature of the internet, lol).

#otherkin #asked and answered #anonymous #rani talks

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fleetingpieces · 4 years ago

Text

Playing with the stars

What if Remus didn’t get injured and was drafted to play for the Dallas Stars?

This is a very self indulgent piece cause happy-sportsman-Remus pretty much lives rent free in my brain.

I’m fairly new to hockey and very much in love with it, but sorry in advance if there’s anything not hockey-accurate!

Once again, thank you Jazzy @inloveoknutzy for beta-ing this! <3 You’re amazing

And the beautiful world building and OCs belong to the amazing @lumosinlove Thank you so much for such a great story <3

CW: mentions of past abuse and mild spice.

Sirius Black was not a clumsy person. He was fearless, dedicated, precise and ruthless against his adversaries.

At least, that’s how he usually behaved.

Today however, Sirius was just stepping on the ice, glancing around the rink, when his eyes landed on a familiar player on the other end and he slipped. Sirius cursed as he grabbed onto the boards to prevent a fall, mentally slapping himself. He was never like this. And he already knew the man would be there, so why was he even surprised? Of course he was there. They were facing his team after all.

It was the first game the Lions would play against the Dallas Stars this season, but Sirius wasn’t sure if he was ready for it. Every game against the Stars was torture, and it had nothing to do with them being insanely good. Sirius liked that part actually, it meant he had to really push himself to beat them.

No, his problem came in the form of one very fit Remus Lupin.

Sirius hadn’t actually, properly seen Remus play in a couple of months, and the impact was even greater because of that. He watched as Loops skated effortlessly on his half of the rink doing warm ups. The way his body moved as he glided through the ice, his muscles flexing underneath his uniform, and the glint in his eyes were enough to take Sirius’ breath away.

Of course, everyone knew who Remus was. First draft, golden boy, star rookie a few years back. Sirius was slightly embarrassed of how well acquainted he was with the man’s career. He’d watched his every game since Loops had started playing for the NHL, and when he was alone in his house he would sometimes watch his old tapes, even though he would never admit that to anyone.

There was a loud clunk from one of the goalposts when Remus took a hard slap shot, and Sirius cursed again. His lithe body seemed to flow over the white surface, his stick an extension of his arm with how confidently he wielded it, and that fiercely joyful smile. Damn that smile. Sirius could only stare as Tyler Seguin went over and crashed into Remus, grabbing him into a headlock and saying something that sent the man laughing.

How the fuck was Sirius supposed to focus on the game with something so beautiful right there?

Shaking his head, Sirius went the other way with a frown etched on his face.

“What are you so grumpy about?” said Pots as he went past him.

“It’s nothing,” Sirius replied. He leaned over his knees and breathed slowly, before slapping hard on his thighs once and setting his eyes on the thing that mattered right then. The puck.

And if there were a pair of amber eyes following his movements from the other end of the rink at that exact moment, he didn’t really notice.

The puck dropped not too long after and the game started. Sirius was first line and won the face off, swiftly passing the puck to Finn, who took it all the way to the Stars net where Dobby was ready for him. Before he could do anything else though, Loops cut his way and stole the puck from right under his feet. Sirius found himself staring in awe as Remus dribbled past one of their defensemen, before he snapped out of it and turned quickly to give chase.

“What the hell was that, Cap?” Pots shouted a few feet ahead of him. Sirius could almost hear the smirk in his tone.

He grumbled but did not lose sight of the puck in front of him. Those two seconds of distraction had been enough for Remus to reach their defensive zone; the way he teared up the ice was ridiculous. He took the shot, but it went straight into Kasey's glove.

Well, that was a way to kick start the game.

“Yeah, Bliz!” Finn congratulated, tapping his helmet.

When it was time for the first change, Sirius sat down heavily as Dumo’s line went out. He clasped his hands together between his knees, with his head bowed down. He had to focus. This was no time to admire what a great player Loops was. Or how obscenely good he looked in his gear.

The Lions knew him to be the dedicated, focused captain of the team, not this silly mess of a man who couldn’t take his eyes off another man from the opposite team. No, there was too much at stake for him to lose it like this. It didn’t matter that his friends knew he was gay, he couldn’t just flaunt it in front of the cameras and the wild crowd.

He owed it to his team to get it together. He started picking up the pace after that, slowly falling into that absolute-hockey headspace, but still he felt that he couldn’t play his usual game. He kept getting slightly distracted for short periods of time, and by the end of the first period he felt incredibly frustrated with himself. It was mainly thanks to his teammates’ skills that the score was still tied 0-0.

He made his way back to the locker room behind them all, admonishing his own behaviour and telling himself he would do better in the second part of the game. He was so focused on his internal rant that he barely noticed Dumo falling into step beside him, and jumped when he placed a hand on his shoulder.

There was a knowing smile on his face that Sirius wanted to wipe off, but his tone was kind as he spoke, albeit slightly teasing.

“Mon fils, if you want to stare you have my full support, but perhaps we should focus on the game now, non?”

With that he chuckled, squeezed his shoulder and entered the locker room ahead of him.

Sirius took a second to stand outside the door, smiling at how simple and easy it was to talk about it with Dumo. The man was like family, a good kind of family. He’d taken him in and protected him against Sirius’ own mother, he’d given him a real home. It was such a Dumo thing to do, talk about his biggest secret as if it was the most normal thing in the world; Sirius could only shake his head as he followed behind him.

“Damn that Lupin!” was the first thing he heard as he stepped in. Finn was in the middle of complaining while making big gestures with his hands, and Logan and Leo were staring at him with fond, amused smiles on their faces. “It’s like every time you turn around he’s there! It’s insane how fast that man is.”

Talker came over then and slapped Sirius on the back.

“Don’t feel too bad Cap. He’s a beautiful man; sometimes I also find myself getting distracted by him.” At Sirius’ raised eyebrow, he added, “I stare with respect.”

He said it with a completely straight face, but Sirius saw the mirth dancing in his eyes. Some of the guys around laughed, adding a few comments of their own to the friendly banter. Sirius wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve such an amazing team. Although the last thing he needed right now was to keep on thinking about Remus, so he tuned them out until Coach came in to go over their strategy.

Second period started in a similar way than the first had, only the pressure had increased. The players were marking each other more tightly, the puck kept going from the Stars’ zone to the Lion’s, and there had been no shots on goal so far.

Halfway through, the whistle blew as one of the referees called an offside on Dallas, and both teams skated over for the face off. As Sirius was getting closer, Loops skated in his direction, locking eyes with him as he circled behind him, and Sirius had to will his body not to jump when Remus started talking with his mouth close to Sirius’ ear.

“I wonder what got the great Captain Sirius Black so distracted?” he said in a playful tone, and Sirius didn’t have to look to know he was smiling.

He was taunting him, the bastard, and fuck if that didn’t ignite a fire inside Sirius’ body.

“Worry about losing your own focus Lupin, or you’ll end up biting the ice,” he replied in the same tone, and was rewarded with a soft chuckle.

If Remus wanted to play like that, Sirius would give him a performance to remember. It was a challenge, Sirius could feel his body thrumming with the adrenaline of it as he finally relaxed completely and played the way he was supposed to from the start.

Sirius managed to change the rhythm of the game with a fast pass he sent Pots’ way, that ended up being the first goal; then Logan scored another one right before the second intermission, setting the team’s spirits on a high. But then Remus scored two incredibly gorgeous goals in the third period that left Sirius slightly light headed.

They were tied.

And right now Sirius was having an internal battle as well as the one going on by the boards, as he and Loops fought for the puck, their bodies close together and Remus’ witty chirps in the air. It was taking all of Sirius’ years of discipline to keep his head in the game.

“Oh hey, you finally decided to come out to play?” Remus said as he bumped into him from behind and Sirius had to bite back a laugh, before spinning around and lightly sending Remus against the boards in retaliation.

“Look alive, Lupin!”

With barely two minutes left on the clock, Sirius managed to get the puck across to Talker, skated behind the net to position himself on the other side of the rink, shook off two defensemen as the puck headed his way again, and immediately whipped it into the goal, making the horn blare.

Screams and cheers erupted all over as the whole team crashed into him. They won, but it had been a very close call.

Nonetheless, it was over now and Sirius could go back to his hotel room and be alone for a bit. And probably watch some tape. The guys were going to grab food on the way, so Sirius excused himself to go lie down and whack himself for being such a klutz during the first half of the game. He was sure it would become easier with time, today he’d just been less prepared than he’d thought he was, and he vowed to make it better.

Just as he was heading outside through the empty hallway, a door opened and he turned around to see Lupin and Seguin coming out of their own locker room, and the sight was just a bit too much for Sirius right then.

Remus was in his game suit, his hair wet from the shower, with a stray curl falling on his forehead that Sirius desperately wanted to brush off. He was once more laughing at something Seguin had said, which made Sirius frown as he turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

There was nothing he could do about it, he wanted too many things that he couldn’t have.

Once he was outside, having escaped through the back door that led to the parking lot, he leaned against a wall before he lit up a cigarette and took a few long hauls, closing his eyes for a few minutes.

“Hey,” a voice said beside him and Sirius almost jumped out of his skin.

“Fuck, are you a ninja or something?” Sirius asked, bringing a hand to his heart, still holding the cigarette. He hadn’t heard Remus coming out.

Loops grinned as he came to stand right next to Sirius, but then his eyes focused on the cigarette on his hand and he lifted an eyebrow.

“Does your PT know that you smoke?”

“No, and there’s no need for him to know. I only smoke when I’m stressed.”

“What are you stressed about? You were amazing out there.”

“Not in the first period,” Sirius mumbled as he took another drag, but Remus heard him.

“And why is that?” he asked with a smirk, taking a step closer.

Sirius huffed in exasperation.

“Fuck Re, do you know how hot you look out there? Did you really have to make it that hard on me?” he lifted an eyebrow at the innuendo, which only made Remus’ wolfish grin go wider.

“Hmm. You didn’t expect me to go easy on you just because we’re dating, right?”

Remus placed a hand on the wall next to Sirius’ head, guarded by the darkness of the parking lot, and looked at him straight in the eye. The golden flecks in Remus’ irises seemed to have a light of their own, and Sirius could only stare, transfixed, as Remus’ long fingers reached up to snatch the cigarette right from between his lips and placed it in his own mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he took a slow drag and exhaled to the side before stubbing the fag against the wall.

“Hey!”

Remus’ hand came to rest on the other side of Sirius’ head, and he pressed their chests together, slotting his thigh between Sirius’.

“Y’know, if it was that hard on you,” he punctuated by pressing his thigh down ever so slightly, smiling as a whine sounded at the back of Sirius’ throat, “there are other ways to help you relax,” he said with a tilt of his head, before he ducked down to suck on Sirius’ neck.

“I...Re...”

“You’re not flying back to Gryffindor tomorrow, right?” Remus whispered against the skin just under his ear, pulling a breathy “No” out of Sirius that sounded more like a moan. “Good. I can stay with you all night then, yeah?” he added before he scraped his teeth against Sirius’ ear lobe, and Sirius had to blink a few times to clear his fuzzy head.

"I...quoi?" He had to resist the urge to slap himself. Use your words, Black. “I mean...what?” Oh yeah, much better.

Remus leaned back just enough to look at him with a smile, tucking Sirius’ hair behind his ear.

“Will you be missed if I take you home?” he said in an amused tone, tilting his head in a way that was so adorable Sirius had to fight to keep another whine in.

“I thought you had a team dinner you couldn’t miss.” Sirius hesitated before continuing, “Isn’t it too risky for us to do this?”

“No,” Remus said immediately. Then, after a short pause, “I mean, I do, and it is, but...I haven’t seen you in almost a month, Pads. I...I missed you.”

Sirius’ heart melted. It’d been hard on both of them since the season had started; their tight training schedules and the fact that they lived in different cities didn’t allow them much time together. Being apart from Remus felt like being off balance, like his world was tilted to the side, and it had only settled on its right edge the moment Sirius had gone on the rink today and laid eyes on Remus again.

Sirius cupped Remus’ cheek, and the other man pressed against his touch, closing his eyes as a fond smile slowly made its way through his face.

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Do you remember that first time I asked you out?”

Sirius was surprised into silence for a few seconds, before he got what Remus was thinking about and he huffed a laugh.

Of course he remembered.

They had been in a very similar situation to the one they were in now, but still, so many things had changed.

The Lions had been playing against Dallas too on that day, only they were at Hogwarts stadium, with their chance at the playoffs at stake. And Sirius’ parents had been there.

Their words, their hard looks, Walburga’s hand digging into his shoulder...it had all been too much and Sirius had found himself spiralling down into the scared, closed off boy he’d used to be before he’d started playing with the Lions. Before he’d been accepted into a real team, a real family.

At that moment, all he could think about was pressure, reputation, and secrets.

He couldn’t let his parents find out. He couldn’t let his friends find out. And then, after the game, he’d been alone at the parking lot trying to get his breathing under control, ripping a leaflet to pieces when a soft hand was placed on top of his, and Sirius had looked up to concerned amber eyes.

To the one person he was supposed to avoid at all costs.

Remus had removed his hand from Sirius’, taking what was left of the paper from him and throwing it in the bin in the corner.

“Hey! I was using that!”

“What for?” He’d sounded genuinely curious, which confused Sirius as they were cordial with each other but they weren’t really friends.

Staring ahead, Sirius had avoided looking him in the eye as he ran a hand through his hair.

“There was something on my mind.”

“Hmm,” Remus hummed.

Sirius had glanced to his side and found Remus staring at him straight in the eye, before the other man stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned on the wall beside him.

“Are you free?”

“Hm?” Sirius asked absentmindedly. He’d been too busy staring at the way Remus’ shoulders strained against his shirt to register what had been said.

The corners of Remus’ mouth turned up in a sweet smile, making Sirius’ breath stop completely. He couldn’t help but think he was gorgeous.

“Are you free right now or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh. No, I’m done for the evening,” Sirius said, confused as to where that had come from.

“Well then, wanna go grab dinner?”

“I...what?” Sirius was perplexed. He’d not been expecting that.

“Dinner. With me,” Remus said, amused. What was going on? Was this...was Remus flirting with him? No, that couldn’t be it; Loops was known to be one of the most caring players out there, he’d probably seen that Sirius was struggling with something and just wanted to help. But even if that was it, he was not about to turn the man down.

“I...yeah. Yeah, I would like that,” Sirius said as a small smile spread over his face.

When Remus gave him a happy grin of his own, eyes shining bright, Sirius’ stomach had done a flip, and he’d known he was totally, and absolutely fucked.

He felt his body tingle just like it had back then when Remus trailed his fingers along his jaw, bringing him back to the present.

“Yeah, I remember,” Sirius placed his hands on Remus’ cheeks and kissed him, slow and steady, making Remus sigh and sag against him as he talked between kisses, never letting their lips part further than an inch. “You were so cute. And sweet. I was so fucking surprised that you asked me out, but I didn’t dare believe you actually wanted...well, me.”

Remus laughed, nudging at Sirius’ nose with his own.

“How could I not want you? Did you look at you? Do you know how sweet, caring and amazing you are?”

Sirius groaned as he nipped at the other man’s bottom lip, making him jump in surprise. He let his fingers run among the wild tawny curls, pulling at them slightly at the back of Remus’ neck. Remus let his head fall back, and instantly felt Sirius’ mouth on the soft skin under his jaw, trailing warm open-mouth kisses until he reached his collarbone.

“Re,” he whispered, feeling his boyfriend’s chest rising and falling in short shallow breaths.

“Yeah?”

“Please take me home.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #coops #lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #Sweater Weather #hockeyau #tyler seguin #coops sw

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drarryruinedme7 · 4 years ago

Text

kinktober, day 8. medical kink

To @rockmarina 💓 I’m sorry, this is nothing like you wanted (I don’t know why it’s so fluffy xD), but I couldn’t resist! If you dislike doctor/patient dynamic, well, you’re warned. Happy reading! thanks @malenkayacherepakha for the beta.

“Healer Malfoy?” Kutch enters Draco’s office without even knocking. Typical.

Technically, he’s Draco’s boss so he can do whatever he wants to. But still.

“Yes, boss?” They both hate it when Draco calls him that. It makes Draco say it even more.

“I have a special patient for you. Look, I wouldn’t have sent him to you, ever.” He accompanies the words with a scowl. “But it looks fairly important and—” Kutch takes a deep breath. “You’re the most qualified at the moment.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Was it really that hard to say?”

“Yes,” Kutch quickly replies. “He’ll come in with a disguise. Call me only if extremely necessary, I’m needed elsewhere. And Malfoy?”

Draco only barely resists the temptation to sneer.

“Treat him well.”

With that, Kutch exits Draco’s office and Draco can finally let out all the very elegant expletives he was thinking. Treat him well. As if, after more than ten years of service, Draco would still need such advice.

“Err, excuse me?”

Draco looks up from his desk to see a medium-height bloke, green eyes, sharp jaw. Draco vaguely registers that there’s something familiar about him.

“Hello, please come in and close the door,” Draco says, professional voice and polite smile in place. He can be kind, thank you very much.

The bloke enters Draco’s office, carefully sitting on the chair in front of him. Draco keeps smiling, hoping it will reassure him.

“Feel free to drop your glamour when you feel like it. What should I call you?”

“Er.” The bloke shifts on the chair, looks around with clipped movements. “Gods, I can’t. It’s too weird. You’re weird, too polite.”

Draco blinks. “Excuse me, you don’t want me to be polite?”

“It would surely make this look more normal.” The man sighs, scratches at the back of his neck. “Well, I guess…” He waves a hand and his glamour starts to dissipate.

Ill-mannered and a show-off. What, only because the guy can wordlessly and wandlessly control his magic—

“Potter!?” Draco blurts out before regaining control of himself.

Potter grimaces, eyes apologetic. “When they told me you were the best I almost laughed in their faces. But… I really need help, and this is the first time I—”

With a grunt, Potter breaks off, bending over at the waist, head clunking on Draco’s desk. He convulses violently, and his hands disappear into his lap, clutching at it desperately.

“What...? Potter, can you hear me?” Draco stands up to quickly reach Potter’s side, touching his shoulder lightly.

Potter’s breathing has sped up like crazy and he keeps making these small sounds… Draco feels heat rush to his cheeks. The sounds Potter’s making are all too similar to mewls, to the sounds someone should make when sprawled on a bed, getting the best fuck of their life.

“Potter?” Draco asks again, voice rough. He straightens, taking his hand off Potter’s shoulder. He can’t believe he’s letting himself be this unprofessional, never mind with Potter of all people.

“Christ,” Potter murmurs, straightening. His face is flushed, eyes dazed. He does look as if he’s just been shagged.

Damn it.

“‘m sorry,” he continues. He’s not looking at Draco and his hands still haven’t left his lap. “You can laugh at me. I… have these episodes. It’s been two months already, I’ve stopped going out, practically secluded myself in my house, because, err…”

“I’ll never laugh at one of my patients, P— Harry,” Draco says, leaning against his desk. “Can you describe to me what you feel during these episodes?”

Potter bites on his bottom lip, looking at Draco’s eyes briefly before dropping his gaze. “I— it’s… I orgasm.”

There’s a tense silence as Draco registers Potter’s words. He internally shouts, struggling to maintain composure externally. “You...” Draco takes a deep breath. “Are you telling me you have spontaneous orgasms?”

He’s never once in his medical career, come across such a case. Of course, it would happen with Potter and of course, Draco couldn’t just let go of his stupid school crush on him and had kept wanking to thoughts of him over the years.

This will make his work all so much easier. Great.

Potter sighs, then nods. Draco shakes his head. He has to treat him like any other patient.

“Alright,” he says. “Alright. Can you tell me how often you have these… episodes?”

“Per day?” He asks, furrowing his brows.

“You have them daily? Wait, you have them more than once a day?!” Draco’s sure his voice has gotten several octaves higher, and that this is the exact opposite of ‘professional’ and ‘treat him well’, but fuck. Fuck!

Potter winces.

“I’m sorry,” Draco quickly amends. “Really, I don’t... It’s just a new case for me too. Please, go on.”

Potter scrunches his nose up at him but takes a deep breath as he starts biting his lips again. “At first it was only, like, maybe a couple of times a week? Mostly at evenings or nights, that’s why I brushed them off. I thought, I don’t know… late-blooming, or something.” He scratches at his nape. “Err, but then they increased. I’d say I have them, like, six to seven—”

Potter’s hands fly to the armrests of the chair, gripping them for dear life. He shuts his eyes and his entire body goes rigid. Draco should really, really avert his eyes right now but he finds himself frozen on the spot, watching as Potter’s lips open in moans and his hips stutter as he comes. Again.

When he opens his eyes this time, they’re even more glazed, perspiration all over his face. “See,” he says with a small voice and Draco’s chest constricts. He has a patient, an embarrassed patient, who’s struggling in front of him and all Draco can do is get steadily harder. “That’s why I stopped going out or working. It’s just so random and it keeps happening without no warning, I’m…” He inhales deeply. “I’m so exhausted, all the time. All my muscles ache.”

Draco nods, clearing his throat. “I agree, you need to regain control over your life. If you feel comfortable, I’d ask you to lie on that stretcher.”

Potter hums, standing to reach the stretcher. He lies down, eyes glossed with tears.

“Look, if you need someone else or you aren’t comfortable—”

“Nothing like that,” Potter says. His voice is thick, but he smiles. “It’s just… the other Healers I saw, they laughed at me and told me I was crazy to want to get rid of such a pleasurable condition. I’m just happy you’re taking it seriously.”

Draco’s cock is aching with how hard it is but he smiles, hoping the scrubs will hide it. This is seriously messed up.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I really want to help you. I’ll run some tests now, okay? Just tell me when it tingles, tickles or hurts.”

Draco takes out his wand. “Ready?”

When Potter nods Draco starts casting diagnostic spells of all kinds. He has to stop another three times before he can finally understand what’s happening.

By the end of it, Potter’s not the only one who’s panting. Draco’s cock is crying for release, keeps twitching and pulsing, balls tight as he watches Potter’s face scrunch up in pleasure and his mouth open in bliss.

It’s all too erotic. “Okay, Harry,” Draco says finally. Potter must have felt Draco’s arousal because he turns to look at him with wide eyes, just that little more focused at Draco’s rough voice. Draco clears his throat. “Erm. I’m 99% sure I know what’s wrong.”

Potter blinks, brings a hand to his hair, trying to adjust it. It only looks messier. Fuck, the level of testosterone in the room must be so high Draco’s not sure he’s not intoxicated.

“Right,” he says when Potter smiles. He looks entirely too hot for his own good. “It’s in your nervous system. Some nerves are damaged so that when you brush the wrong spots in your body they send the wrong message to your brain.”

The expression on Potter’s face is pure confusion. Draco sighs and tries again. “Think of it as a Quidditch game. Seekers must look for the Snitch; Keepers must guard the goalposts and so on. Your neurons have specific functions, but what happens if a Seeker suddenly stops looking for the Snitch and starts throwing Quaffles around, instead?”

Potter’s face clears. “A fucking mess.”

“Indeed,” Draco says. A smile forms on his face against his will.

“Is it curable?” Potter asks. His chest is still heaving heavily up and down.

Draco nods. “Yes, but it will take quite some time. In the meantime, I can prescribe you some potions that will help diminish your episodes.”

Potter practically jumps off the stretcher, throwing his arms around Draco’s neck. “Bloody hell, that’s amazing! Thank you, Draco, thank you!”

Draco laughs and returns the hug, remembering a tad too late he’s as hard as he could ever get.

“Er.” Potter pulls back, raising an eyebrow. “Well, maybe… someone could show me what real pleasure is again. I kinda forgot it.”

Draco’s kissing Potter before he can double-think it, whispering between kisses, “I’ll make you cry harder than you ever have.”

#drarry #drarry squad #drarry ficlet #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x harry #drarry kinktober #drarry kinktober 2020 #doctor/patient #healer draco malfoy #patient harry potter #fluff and smut

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themagicmistress · 4 years ago

Text

He finds her in a back alley dumpster, head down, fur matted in ugly, spotted clumps that speak of long, hungry months and too few meals.

When Magnus fishes out a piece of jerky from his front pocket, she doesn’t even growl at him. Instead, her tail wags lightly, shifting the dust around behind her.

“Hey, buddy,” he mutters, approaching slow. “What’re you doing all alone out here?”

There’s a flash of tooth that has him retracting his fingers, and the jerky is scarfed down as she tears into it, messy. Her muzzle is grey, he notes, the fur around her scruff shot through with thin lines of silver. She sniffs after finishing and then growls when he reaches his hand out.

Magnus freezes. “Hey,” he starts, “it’s okay. I’m alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.” She gives him dubious eyes, pupils big and black, cautious in a way that hurts his soul. “Really,” he promises.

She leans her wet doggy nose forward and sniffs the palm of his hand, leaning her head down and giving him permission to scratch the back of her ears.

Well, he’d always wanted a dog, right? Magnus still wanted a dog, in fact. It’d been ages since he’d gotten to take care of one. Since he’s woken up to paws on his chest, a tail bouncing against his legs. It’d been a long time. Maybe too long.

She doesn’t resist when he picks her up and brings her to the vet either.

The first thing she does when Magnus brings her home is bound across his home. He runs in after her. “Julia!” he calls out, half-laughing despite himself. “I’ve got a surprise! Make sure the studio is closed.” God, he hopes he closed it before leaving.

He rushes into the kitchen to find her with an armful of German Shepherd, hands awkwardly wrapped around fur and a pattern of muddy pawprints up the side of her skirt. Julia turns to him, eyes alight, a delighted little grin dancing across her face. Her fingers are stained with wood polish and the sunlight makes her deep brown skin glow through the kitchen window.

“Is this delightful little lady the surprise?” Julia coos to her, and the dog in her arms licks the side of her face, flat pink tongue leaving a streak of saliva behind. She laughs in bright peals. “Hi, honey, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“You don’t mind?” Magnus edges awkwardly. “Ah, I’m sorry, I know I didn’t ask and this is your home too.” He falters and doesn’t continue. He doesn’t want to bring her back.

Given the mock-offended look she gives him, his girlfriend doesn’t either.

“This cutie? Absolutely not,” Julia clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “Mine now. But maybe yours for a couple seconds. Can you take her? My fingers are sticky and I don’t want to get anymore polish in her fur.”

“Oh! Yeah, here,” Magnus helps the no-longer stray to the ground.

He finally manages to tear his eyes away from Julia and sees a row of wooden bows on the kitchen counter, carefully propped up on long planks as to not get any polish on the table. Reality doesn’t quite come crashing down, because the rebellion is an ever-present weight in the back of his mind, but his chest tightens at the reminder.

Their new dog sniffs slightly at his side. “Just trying to bulk up for the final push against Kalen,” Julia says, turning to wash her hands in the sink. “I have about thirty more in the studio. What do you think?”

Magnus plucks one of the strings. It twangs under his fingers. “Jules?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m not sure if everyone’s gonna be able to fire these?” He says unsurely. “I mean, the workmanship is excellent, and they look great, but…”

Julia frowns at them, tapping at one near the end of the counter to check for tackiness before holding it up. Careful, she pulls back the string and her biceps flex as it draws back with ease. Magnus gulps. Her eyes dance, mischievous and knowing as she puts it back down before she draws a breath.

“Yeah,” Julia grimaces at the row of bows, “I see what you mean. I’ll re-string them a bit later. Forget about work for now, did you have a name in mind for her?”

The dog jumps up onto his legs, paws on his pants and Magnus reaches down a fond hand to scratch between her ears. “I was thinking,” he hesitates, “what do you think about ‘Star?’”

It’s not quite right. It doesn’t feel wrong, but it’s just shy of the goalpost, like biting into banana bread without chocolate chips in it: not bad, but weird. Julia still nods, face warming as she looks at the new addition to their home.

“I like it.”

He’ll find them together on their off-days, few and far between, Star curled in Julia’s lap as she takes the time to read one of those detective novels she loves, but never has the chance to look at.

Star will look at her with pleading eyes whenever his girlfriend strays too far to the door, leash dragging after her. Star follows her around the house too, so much that they’ve had to install another, gated door in the entrance to the workshop because she’ll try to wander in if they’ve forgotten to close it behind them. During strategic meetings for the rebellion, Magnus will look around the planning room and Star will be around Julia’s legs because everyone they know is at the meeting too and they can’t leave her home alone.

The revolution is no place for a dog. It’s no place to have a life either, but then, he plans to do something about that.

It’s apparent to both of them who the favourite is. “Who’s the best girl in the whole wide world?” Julia says to Star, a goopy grinning mess on her feet in their bed.

“Love you,” Magnus says: to Star, to Julia. To whatever gave him a home, a better future on the horizon, a family he loves, and a ring with a wooden rose carved on top, tucked away in the second drawer of their bedside table.

She shifts closer to him, a warm weight at his side.

Julia pulls his chin to her and plants a kiss on his lips, warm and soft. Then, she pulls back and Magnus blinks, dazed but happy.

“Say that again,” She tells him, eyebrow quirked. “But this time, don’t make it sound like a goodbye, alright?”

Magnus grins, a little sheepish. “I love you, Jules.”

A pleased grin spreads across her face. “I love you too.”

The week after Governor Kalen goes down, they take some time off to go to the park, toss around a ball. Magnus actually brought five balls, because he keeps throwing them a little too enthusiastically and they go bouncing outside the gates of the park.

“No, girl,” Julia giggles as Star jumps up onto her pants, “bring it back to Magnus, okay? Oh, alright, fine.” She seems to begrudgingly add another stick to her pile.

A guy nearby grumbles about the lack of sticks in the park and Magnus raises his voice. “Hey, Jules? Didja know they’ve been calling me ‘hero of the people?’” Magnus watches him pale and proceed to fuck off with no small amount of petty satisfaction.

“Yeah, babe! I know!”

“Isn’t that a great name!”

“I like ‘Maggie’ better!” Jules yells back and throws a stick. Magnus gets knocked over as a ball of fur collides hard with him and when he manages to push himself up, she’s laughing so hard her hands are wrapped around her stomach and her face is red.

“Just stand there,” Magnus shouts back, grinning too, “see if I care. Our dog loves me more than you and I’m pretty sure she just gave me a concussion!”

Julia throws another stick and they have learned nothing from their mistakes because this time Magnus really does get a concussion.

He finds her across the bridge that once connected to the Craftsmens’ Corridor, snout between her paws, fur coated in dust so thick she looks like a grey dog instead of a brown and black one. Magnus searches for Julia, upturns every outcropping of Raven’s Roost just in case there’s some chance she might have made it out, that she might have survived. Then, he does the same for Kalen, but for very different reasons. When he can’t find either of them, Magnus cries into Star’s fur.

He sets up a camp on the outside of town, just a little tent, something to put a roof over Star’s head. Magnus sleeps with her at his side and he is always cold, with the damp forest grass soaking through the thin layer between him and the ground, the clothes on his back that do nothing to warm his fingers, and each breath calcifying in his lungs like liquid nitrogen. Star becomes the only warm thing about him.

The first day after he sets up camp, Magnus wakes up to find her gone.

“Star?” he calls out, instantly alert. “Star?” Magnus bounds out of the tent, having slept in his clothes, and yells out to the forest. “Star? Girl, are you out there?” He searches, half-blind and panicked, not realizing where his feet are taking him until he’s there.

She’s at the edge of the cliff again, staring hopefully out over the two posts where a bridge once connected to his home. There is no bridge anymore. There’s no Craftsmens’ Corridor and instead there lies the open ocean, stretching in front of him for endless miles.

He walks to her side in a daze, a dream-like state. The horizon’s wrong, he thinks. From Hammer and Tongs, he could see the ocean, breathtaking and unending. Here, the other stone outcroppings lay scattered and empty to his right, marring his fantasy that for just a second, he’s home again.

“C’mon, Star,” Magnus mutters. She doesn’t move or look at him, just staring out over the water. He can’t find it in himself to tear her away, so he doesn’t. They sit there together until the sun goes down.

The next day, he wakes to find Star gone again.

Magnus keeps going there with her, leaving only to find them food. He goes to the cliffside in his dreams until there is no difference between his waking hours and sleeping hours. He always wakes up, disappointed that his wife’s never in them.

Eventually, he has to drag himself away. Star needs food, actual dog food and that takes money.

At first, he leaves her with the Burringters, a family with a little girl that shrieks in delight at the sight of Star. They’re some of the last stragglers on their way out of town.

“Make sure she has her ball when she’s feeling nippy,” Magnus tells Mrs. Burringter and places a ratty green ball in her hand with long tooth marks gouged into its sides. “Sometimes she forgets how much she weighs, so just— be aware. Of that.”

“Of course,” the halfling woman says, hair done up into a high ponytail, belly swelled with many months of pregnancy. “Where’re you looking to find work?”

“Oh, uh, Birchmore.”

She nods. “I think Greg’s got a cousin up there if you needed help finding something to do. He’s got a little business importing leathers.”

Magnus blinks at the bit of unexpected generosity. “I’m good, thanks. Nice of you to offer, but I’m alright by myself for now.”

Mrs. Burrington eyes him and all of a sudden he’s small again, being stared down by his mother and he almost thinks she’s going to lick her finger and wipe off a bit of dust from his cheek. “You know, if you need something, we’re always here.”

“That’s—”

“Not just us,” She puts a hand to her chest. “Anyone from Raven’s Roost, Magnus. Any of us.”

Magnus isn’t sure what to say. He settles for, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

The sun rises and sets on the ocean and the two of them are there to watch it every time. Or, almost every time. Eventually, people leave Raven’s Roost and he can’t leave Star alone by herself so he brings her with him when he needs to find work, to buy food and essentials.

A part of him thinks Star needs to grieve, to take that time before moving on with him. Another knows that isn’t the reason he stays.

She’s all he has left of her.

One day Magnus wakes up and Star hasn’t gone, and there is nothing warm about her presence at all. Her paws are on his chest, eyes closed and he knew she wasn’t a young dog, but somehow he’d still managed to miss the rapidly greying hair of her muzzle, the way she dragged her feet back to the tent.

Or maybe Star hadn’t died of old age. Maybe it had just been a broken heart.

He buries her beside Julia’s empty grave, makes her a wooden marker with simple lettering. She loved and was loved, he scrawls across it and the writing is crooked, far too messy for what she’d deserved, but it’s the best he can do.

The next day, Magnus packs up his bag and his tent, hefts his ax over his shoulder, and leaves the sea behind. A part of him already misses it and still, he knows it’s not the town he misses.

Magnus doesn’t turn back when he leaves Raven’s Roost for the last time.

He knows he’ll see them again.

Link to A03 version here.

#My fic #The Adventure Zone #magnus burnsides #fanfic #the adventure zone: balance #animal death

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pixelsandpins · 3 years ago

Text

I Get to Be in Anime Sometimes and That STILL Freaks Me Out a Little

Be me, circa early 2000’s. Young teenager, staying up late on a school night, keeping my television as low as possible so my mom doesn’t come in and yell at me to go to sleep. We’re through all the preliminary adult animated cartoons that I saw on Fox, like, a year ago at that point. And then it’s time. The introductory bars of “Ready, Steady, Go” or “I Am” or “Tank” or “Dream Island Obsessional Park” or the opening of whatever show or season was first in the lineup at the moment. Anime. This weird, Japan-based form of animation that, for a long time, I could not get some people I knew to understand past Pokemon or Speed Racer.

“Okay, so they’re alchemists, alright? And they’re brothers and one of them had his soul bound to a suit of armor…are you following?”

And I was in that weird sweet spot of anime fan. Too poor and lacking in the right social connections to import, so I hadn’t memorized all of Final Fantasy: Advent Children like one of my friends in band. Stuck with dial-up way later than everyone else kept my access to online communities limited. Pre-YouTube meant fansubs and video sharing as a whole were more…complicated. But I had Adult Swim. I had Toonami.

And they beamed that sick anime goodness right into my impressionable eyeballs.

As the years went on, the fascination faded. That time that was previously set aside for watching was transformed into studying and marathoning Super Smash Brothers as I aged into college. Then, on my own, I couldn’t afford cable, and the new anime I had access to eventually shifted to the very new Netflix streaming service or whatever I could find broken into pieces on YouTube. By the time Crunchyroll and Funimation streaming arrived, I was an adult. Like…a real one. The kind of adult that has so many adult things to do just to survive that keeping up with new anime gets harder and harder.

Then an incredible thing happened in January of 2019.

I walked into a studio in north Texas and recorded my first ever line as an English dub voice actor for an anime. Now, this wasn’t some overnight thing. I had been busting my butt in indie games and web animation for a handful of years, at that point. I wasn’t even specifically looking to get into anime when I had started voice work, but moved it into my goalposts as I realized it might actually be accessible to me. But that moment? That instant of old and new, past and present and future coalescing? Completely incomparable.

Then something else would happen within the next year. I had started working in earnest, getting my punches in with bit parts and crowds, the essential background matter of anime. I get called in for this new show I had never heard of. First episode. Just some adult women fussing over the main character, explaining his terrible, horrible backstory. Great stuff. The usual. Was happy to be there working with amazing people.

Fire Force would go on to have a a huge premiere event at Anime Expo. Oh wow! Cool!

Coming this summer to Toonami: Fire Force!

Oh! Cool!

…

Wait…

Oh…OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT?!

Has something ever happened to you where you didn’t realize it had always secretly been dream of yours until it actually happened?

But you see…then it gets…weirder.

A year later, middle of 2020. I get called in for a “dub from home,” the thing that’s kept simul-dubbed anime going through the pandemic. It’s Fire Force, again.

What would proceed to occur over the next couple of hours was one of the most physically demanding voice acting sessions I had had at the time.

That episode would stream on Funimation’s site a few weeks later.

That episode would go on to air on Toonami a few months later.

So, there’s exactly one thing weirder (so far) than suddenly finding out your voice is going to be on Toonami. That your dulcet tones will appear on Cartoon Network, a channel you were basically raised on.

And that’s when a character you voice appears on that selfsame channel getting the ever loving crap beat out of him for three minutes straight and watching the reactions to it in real time on Twitter.

Now I’m most assuredly in the “do the work” part of the anime aspect of my voice acting career. I’ve been very lucky to get a few great parts and do some really great work. And I generally don’t freak out about it. It’s a job. A job I love doing every single day I get to do it and take very very seriously but a job nonetheless.

But then there’s that twelve year old.

That twelve year old that tuned in every week to see what would happen to Inuyasha and Kagome.

And I think about who that’s going to be in fifteen to twenty years. Who that kid is now.

And I hope whoever that kid is, that when the time comes they will also call every single one of their friends to find out who has cable so that they can get a picture of their name in the credits.

#anime #voice actors #dubbed #voice acting #fandom

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mariamermaid · 4 years ago

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The Heir of Silberstein; das verzauberte Schulleben (ch.2)

“the enchanted School life”

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: As a new school year approaches in Hogwarts, the students are surprised when Dumbledore introduces a group of German siblings joining the school. The royal family of fortress Silberstein is now sent to Hogwarts to learn the matters of a normal teenager life. …

Words: 3.1k

Masterlist

“Potion´s class will be the death of me!” Hermione exclaimed loudly as you came back from the first day filled with lessons. Professor Snape had very clearly explained, that the class would neither be easy nor a place for mischief. You patted her shoulder, a look of sympathy on your face.

“You´ll clearly going to ace every class”, she then sighed and you starred at her with confusion.

Yes, you had known most of the subject matter the teachers announced for the school year.

You had also required 10 points for Gryffindor, Seamus Finnigan had tried to ask you out, as well as a student from Slytherin and you had given Draco a harsh comeback, which landed a following applause by several students. However, many classmates still seemed a little intimidated by your presence. You were able to disarm the teacher in defense against the dark arts, which was impressing and they had starred at you with bewildered expressions. All in all; a pretty good first day. Almost perfect. Almost.

“I don´t know, but you can find me in the library”, Hermione added and grabbed a few of her books and notes.

“I think I´ll catch some fresh air or explore the school a little more”, you replied.

“The Gryffindor quidditch team has try out´s today and some practice, you should watch them! You´ve never even seen a game!”

You followed Hermione´s advice and made your way to the Quidditch pitch. Together with the history and traditions of Hogwarts, you had obviously learned about the sport as well. Yet, you were taken back by the sight of the pitch. The oval form measured five hundred feet long and a hundred and eighty feet wide, with a small central circle in diameter. At each end there were three hooped Goalposts of different heights. The pitch was surrounded by wooden towers with the house colors, seats for spectators. You found your place in the Gryffindor tower, next to a blonde girl with long hair and round, pink and blue colored glasses. She looked up when you sat down, eyes curiously inspecting you and then offered you a polite smile. “You´re the princess.”

You nodded slowly. “I´m Luna Lovegood, you´re here to watch the team, aren´t you?”

You agreed again and noticed her dreamy tone and her soft nature. “So am I, but watch out for the nargles.”

With anticipation you watched as the players flew across the pitch through the air. Harry and Ginny, captains as you found out, had an open position. You watched as several contestants gave their best in showing their skills. Fred and George, both playing as beaters, didn´t pay much attention to them however. Instead, they trained on their own and played back and forth. You admired their athletic spirit and skill, but realized that you wouldn´t be a Quidditch player. The brutality and the hectic timeframe was thrilling to watch, but nothing you wanted to participate in.

After the practice, you left the tower together with Luna.

“What are nargle?”

“They´re small creatures, mischievous thieves really, you have to be careful.”

A smile spread on your lips; you found a liking in the rather odd Luna Lovegood. From afar you watched how the Slytherin team, who´s time to practice had now come, approach. After them, contestants who wanted to try out for their team. August was one of them. You said goodbye to Luna and joined your brother in watching how the team held their meeting.

“You´re trying out?” It wasn´t a question, the broomstick in his hand said enough. “I thought you didn´t even want to talk to them.” August huffed and rolled his eyes. He knew well what you were doing, lurkinh him into resistance and talking.

“If we have to go to school here, I can at least enjoy a little activity, oder nicht?”

A chuckle escaped your lips and softly you bumped against his shoulder. “I´m messing with you.”

“Hast du mit Ruth geredet?“ (Have you talked to Ruth?) It surprised you, that he was the first one to start the topic, but you shook your head ever so slightly.

“Sie werden es herausfinden, früher oder später.“, you replied instead. (They will find out eventually.)

You knew the fact, that even August worried, was enough to let you quiver. You avoided eye contact as did he, both staring ahead, avoiding to even glance at each other.

“Es wird sein soziales Todesurteil, die Schüler sind ja schon mit uns als Prinzen und Prinzessinnen überfordert. Ein König? Das ist zu viel für sie.” (It´s going to be his social death sentence. The students are already overwhelmed with us as princes and princesses. A king? It´s too much for them.)

“Noch ist er nicht König, außerdem sind es ein paar Monate bis Hendrik achtzehn wird. Vater ist noch am Leben,” (He´s not king yet, anyways there a couple of months left before Hendrik turns eighteen. Father is still alive.) You answered and a bitter taste spread in your mouth as the words left your lips. Your voice fell flat and monotone and you bit your lip.

“Ja noch ist er es, aber für wie lange?“ (Yes, he still is, but for how long?)

August added just as uninflected, before joining the Quidditch team and leaving you standing alone. You knew he wasn´t wrong, but saying those words out loud always sounded harsher than expected. For a couple more seconds, you watched your younger brother before he took off on his broom.

Fred and George Weasley came to your side, you caught a glance of their red hair before they even arrived. They sensed your inner turmoil and decided to try to take off your mind.

“Impressed, princess?” You huffed, shaking your head. Previos worries left your face and you gladly accepted the switch of topic.

“I´ll wait until your first game of the year, then we can see how much you can actually impress me.” The twins shrugged while nodding, it was a fair proposal to them.

The three of you, followed by Harry and Ginny made your way back to the castle, while casually chatting. “How was your first day? Classes are going fine by what I heard?” Fred asked you curiously. You raised your eyebrow at him. “What exactly did you hear?”

George, walking to you left, snickered. “Oh, just the typical rumors when it comes to your royal family.” “And that would be?”

“Courageously smart and intelligent”, George started

“Eagerness to dress and impress”, Fred continued, while his eyes glided your body down and up. His brother well noted, how Fred blushed as the words left his mouth. For now, he wouldn´t mention it though.

“And being able to enchant everybody in their presence”, George added instead and threw his hand dramatically into the air.

“Be careful, Y/n, they´re always up to something”; Ginny exclaimed from the back before she and Harry passed the three of you. You laughed. “I can tell, but thanks for the warning!”

You found yourself in the backyard, due to the late summerly warmth, many students still remained outside. The twins took off their Quidditch uniform, leaving them both in tank tops. The summer had done good to them and they had both gained muscle; especially in their arms. A seat beneath a tree at the side was perfect to watch the entire scene and soon after, the two Weasley´s joined you again. They awaited, but you continued to simple watch. A fairly dull activity, at a first glance.

“It´s seems boring, but there is always something going on, isn´t it?” Fred asked, his head tilting your way. You nodded agreeing. “It´s new, at least to me.”

Hendrik entered the yard with another Ravenclaw. “Ah, Cedric Diggory, prefect of the Ravenclaws”, George explained. Cedric as well as Hendrik´s eyes found yours. Cedric offered a polite smile, which you returned. But Hendrik´s were asking. Asking for anything out of the ordinary, you shook your head. The twins seemed to notice, how the two of you reacted to each other. “You and your brother get each other, don´t you?”

“We´re a family, we hold together, no matter how hard things seem”, you sighed but shook your head, pushing away the reluctant feeling.

“Hendrik is brilliant, he created his first spell at 14 years, his currently writing his first book as well. He´s the smart one, the oldest and always looking out for us.” You paused, eyeing Hendrik from across the yard. His dark hair was sleek back as always, his sharp jawline and his stern eyes. He had a mature charisma and you were sure, that many female students would swoon over his presence.

“It´s not like he had a choice, he´s the oldest, first to the throne. From his birth on, all the pressure laid on his shoulders.”

“Sounds hard.”

“There are days where it´s harder than on others.” You glanced back, through the stone arch´s to the Quidditch pitch. From afar you could make out little green figures racing through the air, among them August.

“August is the rebel of the family, stubborn and cunning. He knows what he wants and he knows how to get it. He´s selective when it comes to being loyal, family comes always first.”

Your eyes, as well as the Twins’, continued to wander to Ruth, her locks framing her round face and a smile spread on her rosy lips. She was seated on a blanket in the green grass, laughing as a pair of second-class students showed her a new game with cards.

“Ruth, is the sweetest angel. She´s kind to all people and animals. She´s the one keeping us together, when all ties tear. She´s the one who grew up the most protected. Hendrik and me, were trained the hardest. She doesn´t know, how it feels to have all eyes on yourself, luckily. She´s able to be just a child in a way Hendrik never could.”

Fred and George starred at you, waiting. The school life of Hogwarts was new to you, but for them everything about the royal activity was unaccustomed. “What about you?”

You chuckled nervously. “Me?”

“I´m the daring one, the one who questions right and wrong. The wild spirit of the family, at least it´s what I´m told.” “A truly magical family, isn´t it?” George smiled warmly. Maybe the Silberstein siblings weren´t so different from the Weasley´s after all.

“And all of you were trained?”, Fred then questioned further. They were intrigued by you.

“To be what exact?” George added and you smirked. “Our subjects varied from the ones at Hogwarts; Mondays started with history, for both muggles and wizards. Then in the afternoon, riding lessons and nature studies.”

“Riding? Broomsticks?”, George asked confused.

“Oh no, Silberstein has its name from their traditional breeding of Pegasus´.”

“Pegasus? As in horse with wings?” You nodded proudly, remembering Hagrid´s admiring stare at your arrival with the carriage. “The German word silber is English for silver, as in the silver horse skin and mane. The stables are the argentum turris, Latin for silver towers. It´s where they live and the only way to enter them, is by flying to them.”

A short pause formed, while you remembered the silky fur and the liberating and enchanting feeling, when flying through the clouds on their backs. Clearing your throat, you proceeded.

“Then on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturday mornings, martial arts. Everything from hand to hand combat, sword fighting, archery and of course, defense with the wands. Each of us is trained for battles with all scenarios, not only magical.”

Saturday mornings, were amazingly special to the four of you, because your trainer and teachers often awoke you with a new battle idea in mind. You wore focused on working together as a unit, not working on your individual techniques.

“And then of course more basic subjects, Potions and Herbology, astrology, the formal etiquette for royal descendants.”

“For Merlin´s Sake, you´re unbelievable”, Fred breathed and his brother nodded hefty.

“It might be normal for you, but to us?” George continued. “Unbelievable.” They both finished the sentence. A blush crept on your cheeks. Before Hogwarts, you had never given it much thought, but especially after arriving, you began to realize how special your life had been. Against many obstacles and challenges, you were grateful for the opportunity’s others would never have. It was hard and no one would ever argue with it, but you would choose this life over any other every day. Grateful.

It was this exact moment, where you decided that Silberstein was going to be a school. A good and fair school, that you would fight for.

A few weeks passed in the mean-time. You had actually begun to write down notes about potential strategies about teaching and a curriculum. Hendrik noticed how you began brewing your ideas, but he knew you would come to him, if you were ready to discuss them.

“Miss Silberstein, Professor Dumbledore has requested a meeting with you and your siblings”, McGonagal held you back after finishing her lesson. Hermione, a few steps ahead of you, waited worriedly. You nodded and followed McGonagal out of the classroom.

It was Friday, prior to the second Quidditch Game of the season. The week before, Gryffindor against Hufflepuff started with a strong game. The Weasley twins used their chance to show off the abilities, successfully. Hendrik, actually started playing as a seeker for Ravenclaw, while August was positioned as a chaser for Slytherin. As so often when it came to your brothers, they battled in agony about almost everything. August loved it to contest and Hendrik loved it to prove somebody wrong. A bad combination really.

“Go ahead, ´Mione”, you shrugged to your friend. “I got something to get done.”

McGonagal led you to Dumbledore´s office through the entrance of the gargoyle statue. She gave you a last nod of reassurance, before leaving you alone. Hendrik, August and even Ruth awaited you in the headmaster’s office. Worries rose in you and immediately, you searched Hendrik´s eyes for signs. He shrugged. None of you knew why you were called in today.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk; hands crossed on the table. The room was filled with shelves, books, potions and other artifacts. You were sure, that if given enough time, you would find out many interesting things. But sadly, the office laid unable for you to enter at your own sweet will.

“Please sit, make yourself comfortable.”

As much as he tried to sound calm, it didn´t convince you. You braced yourself for the worst.

“A letter from your father´s consultant, Albrecht came to me.”

You saw Hendrik´s hands cramping and his jaw tensing. Ruth, who sat next to you, lurked up to you, but you didn´t have the strength to look back.

“He and your father enquired about your process in learning, as well in finding yourself in the school life.”

Hendrik relaxed and you could finally give Ruth a small smile. “He also requested me to give the four of you a separate letter, which I will give you in just a second.”

Dumbledore leaned back, making eye contact with each of you before continuing.

“I know that even though your stay at Hogwarts is unusual, it is even more concerning as to why this stay had to be so sudden. Like everybody else, you have my full sympathy about your father´s health condition But I want you to know, that if you need anything else, you can always come to me. I´m sure that being a royal descendant is hard enough on it´s own and I can openly admit, I´m fairly new to many aspects. But I know a lot about schools and teaching, this”, he pulled out a book from his desk. You eagerly reached forward to take it first.

“Its a very rare volume about Hogwarts throughout the history. I´m sure you will treasure it, as well as I did in my first years as a teacher.”

Thanking, you nodded at Dumbledore. The book was in raveled in a dark blue fur like coat and the font was golden. Then he handed over the letter, which Hendrik took.

You had barely left the office, before he ripped it open and the four of you gathered closely around. His voice was quiet, but a clear flutter was heard.

“Dear beloved princes and princesses.

I hate to pass the message, that your father´s condition is not improving. The healers watch him with every second, but there have been no results yet.

I´m continuing to follow your father´s instruction to represent him and the royalty of Silberstein, as a Consultant and for the time being, leader.

I hope your stay at Hogwarts is as pleasant as the time allows.

Sincerely, Albrecht.”

A bitter taste spread in your mouth, when Hendrik read the letter out loud.

“We shouldn´t trust him”, August pressed out between his pursed lips. Hendrik rolled his eyes at him, a little too dramatic and hasty for your taste.

“Don´t be stupid, he has been a consultant for longer than any of us lived.” Hendrik used his ´adult´-voice and there were times, where his mature exterior worked, but for August, it was another reason to tense his jaw. He didn´t like to be treated as a child. Neither did you.

“So, you agree with him on the throne?”

Hendrik fell silent, his eyes leaving your group and his hand brushing his hair back.

Albrecht was never particularly fond of you, which was mostly mutual. In his eyes, not only you but also August and Ruth were nothing, but naïve children. He tolerated you, because he didn´t have an option. Hendrik was the only one to be out of sorts with him, which didn´t equal in actually liking him. You were sure that Albrecht didn´t like children in general. He was strict, obsolete bound to the idea of a royal regime, that represented a strong sway. Admitting that Silberstein was the most logic solution to the school problem in Germany, wasn´t comprehensible to him.

Whether he liked it, or not, ALbrecht was compelled to the crown. But as long as he was in your father´s seat, he was in the position to not only to issue orders, but change any established decisions.

From the moment it was announced, that you would leave for Hogwarts, August noted it more than once; He hated the idea of leaving behind your father, as well as the realm and the fortress. Both Hendrik and you, had brushed his sorrows away.

August scoffed angrily, after Hendrik´s attempt to placate him and he left the group with quick steps. Hendrik did as well, making his way to the Ravenclaw tower. From outside he seemed calmer than his younger brother, but he was livid as well. A breeze of wind meandered through the hallway; a storm was coming.

And deep down, you were left with an unpleasant gut instinct about Albrecht.

----------

tags: @ britishspidey @ perfectlysane24 @ acoolnight

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #weasley twins #harry potter imagine #mariamermaidimagine

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dandelion-wings · 3 years ago

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Your writing is so well paced and organized, if you don’t mind I would like to know how your writing process is like

ps: I rlly love your work <3

Thank you! :D That's especially nice to hear because pacing is something I struggle with, so it's nice to know that struggle is bearing some fruit.

My writing process is basically "lots of outlining/drafts," but I'll put a longer step-by-step under a cut:

1. Idea! Which I promptly write down in my ideas doc or post somewhere or yell at someone on Discord, depending, because expanding on it a bit in one of those ways is necessary to determine whether it's a workable idea or not.

2. If it does look like a workable idea, I start a new document with a summary/proto-outline. This can take a couple different forms (I have one where the whole summary is a link to a deleted scene from another work and a chat transcript from my initial yelling at someone about it, though more often it's in loose paragraph format), but the important part is that I note down the high points, including any scenes that grabbed me thinking about it. Connective tissue can come later.

3. I find a good starting place! I have a lot of stuff that's still sitting in summary form because whenever I open the document I can't think of any opening lines to launch off from. Once I find that, it's off to the races--the purpose of a first draft is to exist, so I often end up writing them in sprints, if ones that may be divided by months in between.

4. There's a certain point in any given story longer than a few thousand words that I think of as the "check-in" point. It's not consciously chosen; it's the point where my brain pauses to see if I'm running in the right direction or have jumped off the track. (Though where it happens does correlate roughly to story size, so I maybe should start paying attention to that as a better predictor than my optimism as to how long a story is going to end up being. XD) One of two things happens here:

4a. Something's gone wrong and it's not the story I want it to be (maybe I started in the wrong POV, maybe I started at the wrong point in the story, maybe I used the wrong plot device, maybe...). I throw out the initial start, either just by deleting it if it's short enough to bear doing that, or, more commonly because I hate throwing stuff out and this makes it easier, renaming Draft 1 to Draft 0 and moving my summary materials into a new Draft 1 to start over with. I have fics with a Draft 0a, Draft 0b, Draft 0c, etc. because it took me a whole bunch of false starts to figure out what I was doing wrong that made me unhappy.

4b. It's gone right, and I have a solid basis to start more thoroughly outlining the rest! (Sometimes if I'm very lucky it's both, and whatever went wrong gives me the clues I need to outline the new Draft 1, but more often I have to just start from the beginning again and try to get there.) Once I have a solid start, the connective tissue starts appearing all on its own, manifesting from what I've set up already: of course it happens in this order, of course this has to happen before this other scene does, of course this conversation will have to happen to set up that later scene, etc.

For shorter work I just expand the summary out into a longer outline, with a few sentences to a paragraph for each scene, and keep it at the end of the document to consult as I go. For longer work this is the time I start a new document just for the outline. With very long stuff, e.g. An Open Hand and the sequel-in-progress, the more detailed outline written at this point only goes to about the midpoint of the story, and everything beyond it stays a pile of high points; there will be multiple pauses later on to expand the outline further as more connective tissue manifests. This outline is not set in stone at this point, I should note--everything is still flexible, it just gives me goalposts to sprint for.

5. Then I start sprinting for those goalposts! "The purpose of a first draft is to exist," I whisper, as I start a literal writing sprint on my Discord server and start typing garbage.

6. Once the first draft is finished, I set it down for at least a week, preferably longer. Then I pick it up and read what I've got. What happen next forks depending on two factors: how long the story is, and how well I think I accomplished what I wanted in the first draft. These are somewhat interrelated, in that I've never yet written something over 10k that I thought I'd really knocked out of the park in the first draft, but not directly correlated; I have some very short fics that took a whole lot of drafts to get to where I wanted them to be (or to just get posted as-is, imperfect, because I was tired of them or a deadline was coming up).

6a. For shorter fics that don't feel like they need any structural or thematic changes, Draft 2 is just clean-up. I go through, I fix any big issues I did find, I clean up the prose, I post the fic. These are nice! Their story ends here.

6b. For everything else, which unfortunately is most of it, I start outlining again. :') This outline is still not set in stone but is more solid than the previous one, because Draft 2 for these stories is the "structural edits" draft, in which I directly address the overarching, scene-by-scene structure and pacing of the story. The outline for Draft 2 looks less detailed than the outline written during Draft 1, because each scene is summarized in a sentence. The scenes are already written, so I don't need to outline them fully, I just have to label them well enough to move them around! Which is a lot easier to do in outline form first, before I start actually moving full-sized chunks of text. This is also where I find holes, either in the scenes themselves as I summarize them for the outline, or in the story overall as I realize that I've left scenes out. (Usually they are scenes I didn't want to write when I was sprinting through the first draft and skipped in order to keep my forward momentum going, though sometimes I just genuinely didn't realize they were necessary until I sit there going "wait, I never actually set this up, I knew the elements existed for it and forgot the reader didn't....")

7. I mark in the outline where scenes need to be expanded, changed, or added, do the moving-around (including deletion where necessary), then go in and write/rewrite/modify what has to be added or changed, alter transitions to accommodate those changes... basically, by the time Draft 2 is done, I have usually rewritten big chunks of the text. This is the worst part, because often I make changes and look back through and realize that no, that doesn't work, I have to go back to the outline and adjust again... Draft 2 can get very fractal.

8. Sometimes I get stubborn and go no, this is Draft 2, it's done, I'm not changing this particular document anymore, I'm going away for another week. So I do that, I go away for a week (or longer), then I come back and open a new document titled Draft 3 and go back to the start of step 6. :') If I have a story with more than three drafts, it's because I've gone through this process more than one time. I said Draft 2 was the "structural edits" draft but really everything but the first and the last drafts are that.

9. But finally! The structure has been wrestled into place, and the pacing may not be great but no longer makes me want to scream, and whatever thematic element I was going for has been drawn out sufficiently that I'm happy with it. And then I start Draft 3 (or Draft 4 or Draft 5...), which is the prose clean-up. I go through this one at least once for prose, at least one for dialogue, another time for prose but with the font changed, another time in a third font for copy-edits (useless as this is, at this point; inevitably I will never find all the errors until six months later when I re-read it and cringe), and then, when I finally make myself stop fiddling with tiny details of wording, I declare it Done and post it.

10. And then six months later I find a glaring typo when I'm re-reading it on AO3 and have to physically wrestle myself away from the "edit work" button because it's too late! I'm done with that story! I am free from it and trapped, inevitably, somewhere in the Draft 2 of another one.

#asked and answered

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