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duckprintspress · 3 years ago

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Giving Quality, Motivating Feedback

A guest post by @shealynn88!

The new writer in your writing group just sent out their latest story and it’s...not exciting. You know it needs work, but you’re not sure why, or where they should focus.

This is the blog post for you!

Before we get started, it’s important to note that this post isn’t aimed at people doing paid editing work. In the professional world, there are developmental editors, line editors, and copy editors, who all have a different focus. That is not what we’re covering here. Today, we want to help you informally give quality, detailed, encouraging feedback to your fellow writers.

The Unwritten Rules

Everyone seems to have a different understanding of what it means to beta, edit, or give feedback on a piece, so it’s best to be on the same page with your writer before you get started.

Think about what type of work you’re willing and able to do, how much time you have, and how much emotional labor you’re willing to take on. Then talk to your writer about their expectations.

Responsibilities as an editor/beta may include:

Know what the author’s expectation is and don’t overstep. Different people in different stages of writing are looking for, and will need, different types of support. It’s important to know what pieces of the story they want feedback on. If they tell you they don’t want feedback on dialogue, don’t give them feedback on dialogue. Since many terms are ambiguous or misunderstood, it may help you to use the list of story components in the next section to come to an agreement with your writer on what you’ll review.

Don’t offer expertise you don’t have. If your friend needs advice on their horse book and you know nothing about horses, be clear that your read through will not include any horse fact checking. Don’t offer grammar advice if you’re not good at grammar. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give feedback on things you do notice, but don’t misrepresent yourself, and understand your own limits.

Give positive and constructive feedback. It is important for a writer to know when something is working well. Don’t skimp on specific positive feedback — this is how you keep writers motivated. On the other hand, giving constructive feedback indicates where there are issues. Be specific on what you’re seeing and why it’s an issue. It can be hard for someone to improve if they don’t understand what’s wrong.

Be clear about your timing and availability, and provide updates if either changes. Typically, you’ll be doing this for free, as you’re able to fit it in your schedule. But it can be nerve wracking to hand your writing over for feedback and then hear nothing. For everyone’s sanity, keep the writer up to date on your expected timeline and let them know if you’re delayed for some reason. If you cannot complete the project for them, let them know. This could be for any reason — needing to withdraw, whatever the cause, is valid! It could be because working with the writer is tough, you don’t enjoy the story, life got tough, you got tired, etc. All of that is fine; just let them know that you won’t be able to continue working on the project.

Be honest if there are story aspects you can’t be objective about. Nearly all of your feedback is going to be personal opinion. There are some story elements that will evoke strong personal feelings. They can be tropes, styles, specific characterizations, or squicks. In these cases, ask the writer to get another opinion on that particular aspect, or, if you really want to continue, find similar published content to review and see if you can get a better sense of how other writers have handled it.

Don’t get personal. Your feedback should talk about the characters, the narrator, the plotline, the sentence structure, or other aspects of the story. Avoid making ‘you’ statements or judgements, suggested or explicit, in your feedback. Unless you’re looking at grammar or spelling, most of the feedback you’ll have will be your opinion. Don’t present it as fact.

Your expectations of the writer/friend/group member you are working with may include:

Being gracious in accepting feedback. A writer may provide explanations for an issue you noticed or seek to discuss your suggestions. However, if they constantly argue with you, that may be an indicator to step back.

Being responsible for emotional reactions to getting feedback. While getting feedback can be hard on the ego and self esteem, that is something the writer needs to work on themselves. While you can provide reassurance and do emotional labor if you’re comfortable, it is also very reasonable to step back if the writer isn’t ready to do that work.

Making the final choice regarding changes to the work. The writer should have a degree of confidence in accepting or rejecting your feedback based on their own sense of the story. While they may consult you on this, the onus is on them to make changes that preserve the core of the story they want to tell.

Some people aren’t ready for feedback, even though they’re seeking it. You’re not signing up to be a psychologist, a best friend, or an emotional support editor. You can let people know in advance that these are your expectations, or you can just keep them in mind for your own mental health. As stated above, you can always step back from a project, and if writers aren’t able to follow these few guidelines, it might be a good time to do that. (It’s also worth making sure that, as a writer, you’re able to give these things to your beta/editor.)

Specificity is Key

One of the hardest things in editing is pinning down the ‘whys’ of unexciting work, so let’s split the writing into several components and talk about evaluations you can make for each one.

You can also give this list to your writer ahead of time as a checklist, to see which things they want your feedback on.

Generally, your goal is going to be to help people improve incrementally. Each story they write should be better than the previous one, so you don’t need to go through every component for every story you edit. Generally, I wouldn’t suggest more than 3 editing rounds on any single story that isn’t intended for publication. Think of the ‘many pots’ theory — people who are honing their craft will improve more quickly by writing a lot of stories instead of incessantly polishing one.

With this in mind, try addressing issues in the order below, from general to precise. It doesn’t make sense to critique grammar and sentence structure if the plot isn’t solid, and it can be very hard on a writer to get feedback on all these components at once. If a piece is an early or rough draft, try evaluating no more than four components at a time, and give specific feedback on what does and doesn’t work, and why.

High Level Components

Character arc/motivation:

Does each character have a unique voice, or do they all sound the same?

In dialogue, are character voices preserved? Do they make vocabulary and sentence-structure choices that fit with how they’re being portrayed?

Does each character have specific motivations and focuses that are theirs alone?

Does each character move through the plot naturally, or do they seem to be shoehorned/railroaded into situations or decisions for the sake of the plot? Be specific about which character actions work and which don’t. Tell the writer what you see as their motivation/arc and why—and point out specific lines that indicate that motivation to you.

Does each character's motivation seem to come naturally from your knowledge of them?

Are you invested (either positively or negatively) in the characters? If not, why not? Is it that they have nothing in common with you? Do you not understand where they’re coming from? Are they too perfect or too unsympathetic?

Theme:

It’s a good idea to summarize the story and its moral from your point of view and provide that insight to the writer. This can help them understand if the points they were trying to make come through. The theme should tie in closely with the character arcs. If not, provide detailed feedback on where it does and doesn’t tie in.

Plot Structure:

For most issues with plot structure, you can narrow them down to pacing, characterization, logical progression, or unsatisfying resolution. Be specific about the issues you see and, when things are working well, point that out, too.

Is there conflict that interests you? Does it feel real?

Is there a climax? Do you feel drawn into it?

Do the plot points feel like logical steps within the story?

Is the resolution tied to the characters and their growth? Typically this will feel more real and relevant and satisfying than something you could never have seen coming.

Is the end satisfying? If not, is it because you felt the end sooner and the story kept going? Is it because too many threads were left unresolved? Is it just a matter of that last sentence or two being lackluster?

Point Of View:

Is the point of view clear and consistent?

Is the writing style and structure consistent with that point of view? For example, if a writer is working in first person or close third person, the style of the writing should reflect the way the character thinks. This extends to grammar, sentence structure, general vocabulary and profanity outside of the dialogue.

If there is head hopping (where the point of view changes from chapter to chapter or section to section), is it clear in the first few sentences whose point of view you’re now in? Chapter headers can be helpful, but it should be clear using structural, emotional, and stylistic changes that you’re with a new character now.

Are all five senses engaged? Does the character in question interact with their environment in realistic, consistent ways that reflect how people actually interact with the world?

Sometimes the point of view can feel odd if it’s too consistent. Humans don’t typically think logically and linearly all the time, so being in someone’s head may sometimes be contradictory or illogical. If it’s too straightforward, it might not ‘feel’ real.

Be specific about the areas that don’t work and break them down based on the questions above.

Pacing:

Does the story jump around, leaving you confused about what took place when?

Do some scenes move quickly where others drag, and does that make sense within the story?

If pacing isn’t working, often it’s about the level of detail or the sentence structure. Provide detailed feedback about what you care about in a given scene to help a writer focus in.

Setting:

Is the setting clear and specific? Writing with specific place details is typically more rooted, interesting, and unique. If you find the setting vague and/or uninteresting and/or irrelevant, you might suggest replacing vague references — ‘favorite band’, ‘coffee shop on the corner’, ‘the office building’ — with specific names to ground the setting and make it feel more real.

It might also be a lack of specific detail in a scene that provides context beyond the characters themselves. Provide specific suggestions of what you feel like you’re missing. Is it in a specific scene, or throughout the story? Are there scenes that work well within the story, where others feel less grounded? Why?

Low Level Components

Flow/Sentence Structure:

Sentence length and paragraph length should vary. The flow should feel natural.

When finding yourself ‘sticking’ on certain sentences, provide specific feedback on why they aren’t working. Examples are rhythm, vocabulary, subject matter (maybe something is off topic), ‘action’ vs ‘explanation’, passive vs. active voice.

Style/Vocabulary:

Writing style should be consistent with the story — flowery prose works well for mythic or historical pieces and stories that use that type of language are typically slower moving. Quick action and short sentences are a better fit for murder mysteries, suspense, or modern, lighter fiction.

Style should be consistent within the story — it may vary slightly to show how quickly action is happening, but you shouldn’t feel like you’re reading two different stories.

SPAG (Spelling and Grammar):

Consider spelling and grammar in the context of the point of view, style and location of the story (eg, England vs. America vs. Australia).

If a point of view typically uses incorrect grammar, a SPAG check will include making sure that it doesn’t suddenly fall into perfect grammar for a while. In this case, consistency is going to be important to the story feeling authentic.

Word Count Requirements:

If the story has been written for a project, bang, anthology, zine, or other format that involves a required word count minimum or maximum, and the story is significantly over or under the aimed-for word count (30% or more/less), it may not make sense to go through larger edits until the sizing is closer to requirements. But, as a general rule, I’d say word count is one of the last things to worry about.

The best thing we can do for another writer is to keep them writing. Every single person will improve if they keep going. Encouragement is the most important feedback of all.

I hope this has helped you think about how you provide feedback. Let us know if you have other tips or tricks! This works best as a collaborative process where we all can support one another!

#duck prints press #original content #writing advice #guest blogger #guest blogger shea

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mrsmaybank · 4 years ago

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Crushing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.”

A/N: I love baby genius, season one Reid so much. I wanted to give him a soulmate. Soulmate is you: shy and also a baby genius. Okay, thanks for reading. This was honestly just for me.

CW: Implied Smut, Mild Cursing, shitty writing

“Who...Who is that?” Dr. Spencer Reid, debatably the wordiest boy Derek Morgan had ever met, was suddenly at a loss for words. Maybe it was your perfectly sculpted face, your shoes, the copy of The Kreutzer Sonata held to your chest, your chest, or maybe a mix of it all. Whatever it was, at sight of you walking through the office doors, he was stripped of his ability to speak.

“That’s JJ’s new intern.” Morgan said plainly, before noticing the completely enamored look on his friend’s face. “What, pretty boy?” Reid couldn’t even be bothered to reply. He was too busy studying every detail of your frame.

“You think she’s cute or something kid?” Morgan playfully jabbed his shoulder, Spencer’s face instantly flushing an embarrassing shade of red.

“What?!” He shrieked, “I-no! That’s not..No!” That’s a lie.

“I just..I didn’t know JJ was getting an intern.” That though, was true.

“She’s supposed to be pretty impressive. Let’s go meet her.” he started in the direction of the coffee stand, where you and JJ had begun chatting. Before Spencer could protest out of his shyness, he was being dragged along.

“Morgan,” JJ smiled, “Spence,” she nodded in his direction, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My godsent savior.” JJ beamed in your direction.

You smiled more sheepishly then you would’ve liked, muttering a “Hopefully.” that got a laugh from Morgan and a “Oh, please.” from JJ, but nothing from the man in the glasses. You did your best not to read into it.

“Derek Morgan.” the muscular agent extended his hand to shake yours, an offer you timidly but happily accepted.

The taller, lankier, younger, incredibly cute man next to him stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and shifted uncomfortably with a small wave, “I’m uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, oh! Uh, you don’t have to, uh call me Doctor. No..” He shook his head, “Just Spencer is fine.” He looked at you with wide eyes that sent butterflies berserk in your stomach and swiped his tongue in between his lips that only made them go crazier. JJ had told you all about the team. About the magnificently brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, his 3 PhDs and eidetic memory, and all the other quirks you’d have to know in order to work with him, but had failed to mention how utterly hot he was. You felt a crush hijacking your system already. Dear god.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Your hands gripped your book tighter as you shifted onto your tiptoes, “I’ve heard really exceptional things.”

The conversation was set to continue, but Morgan and JJ were summoned by Hotch to the closed doors of his office. Leaving the resident genius and you starting at each other with tight lip smiles.

Spencer started first, “The Kreutzer Sonata is great.” He excitedly continued, “It uh, it actually used to be a pretty bold book to carry around. After the work had been forbidden in Russia by censors, there was actually a mimeographed version that was widely circulated. Then in 1890, the United States Post Office Department prohibited the mailing of newspapers containing serialized installments of it too. Theodore Roosevelt even called Tolstoy a-”

His enthusiasm was beyond endearing. You finished for him with a soft smile, "Sexual moral pervert.”

Spencer’s lips upturned in a smile. It was rare somebody in the office could finish his sentences. And he couldn’t help but replay the crass words being said in your soft voice. He felt a crush hijacking his system already. Dear god.

“Most people don’t recognize it in the original Russian.” Spencer heard you say.

“Most people probably wouldn’t recognize it in English.” he retorted.

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Spencer wasn’t even kidding. “I’m not joking.” He shook his head. “It’s unfortunate how many people aren’t even vaguely familiar with Tolstoy.”

“It is.” you agreed. “You went to Caltech, correct?”

He smiled, “Yes.”

“I almost did too. Decided last minute on Columbia.”

“You went to Columbia?” he asked.

“I just graduated.”

“How old are you?” he asked before quickly correcting himself, “I’m sorry! That was forward! I am not...I’m not trying to undermine your studies with your age, I promise. I’m just curious.”

“No! It’s okay!” You got out fast. “I’m 19. I graduated high school a little bit early.”

“Me too.” He smiled. “12, actually.”

Your eyes went wide, “12?”

“Yes, um, in a Las Vegas public high school.” He winced, but the self-deprecation somehow came out charming, “I uh,” His eyes narrowed, “didn’t go to a lot of parties.”

That made you wholeheartedly laugh. “Me neither! I graduated at 15, which you know is the age everybody else starts. It created a really weird dynamic because the older kids in my grade didn’t like me, but the underclassmen my age really didn’t like me.”

Instead of the laugh you were expecting, Spencer just gave you a pensive stare.

“Um..I can’t see why. I think you’re very likeable.” The compliment would’ve been strange exchanged by anybody other than Spencer to you.

“Wait till you get to know me.” You said it through a smile but so softly you were afraid he might not be able to hear it, but he did.

And that was confirmed when he flashed you the most incredible, toothy grin you’d ever seen. “I uh, I doubt there will be any change in opinion.”

“Well, um, I’m sure- I think! You’re very likeable as well Dr. Reid.” you said.

“That’s what you say now.” He retorted in the same coy tone you had earlier.

You shook your head, “You’ll find I can be insufferably stubborn.”

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After two weeks, there was little Spencer could do to hide his massive crush affinity for you from the team.

In the bullpen:

You guys had locked eyes and were mouthing out exchanged of No’s and Yes’s from across the room. There was an ongoing half-serious dispute about whether or not Xanthippe slept with Plato.

Morgan glided in his wheeled chair to whisper into Spencer’s ear.

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.” He said, shoving files into the cabinet below Reid’s desk.

“I’m..I’m not.. I--what? Bedr--No!” Reid whisper-shouted back.

On the jet:

“Reid?” Gideon called Spencer, “Chess?” He motioned towards the board.

“Yes, sure. Just give me a second. I’m almost done. I’m reading Infinite Jest. I don’t usually enjoy literature if it isn’t classic, even less so if it’s American. But..” Spencer smiled, “Y/N likes the author.” He continued his fast-paced reading of the third-to-last chapter of the book.

Morgan and Gideon exchanged glances.

Even in front of you:

You opened a sugar packet and began stirring.

“De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium is still some of the best work on heliocentric theory out there, I think. Copernicus knew what he was talking about!” You spun on your heels to see Reid’s face contorted in disagreement. You giggled, “Don’t give me that face! I’m right!”

He took a sip of his coffee as to keep himself quiet. “Listen, cosmological theory is for…”

But the pair of you were interrupted, it was Elle, standing behind you and in front of Spencer.

“New skirt?” Elle asked as you turned, back now facing Reid. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee too.

“Yes!” You excitedly nodded. “You like it?”

Elle looked up and down, but not at you. The judgmental eyes were for the man behind you. She pursed her lips, “Not just me.”

The only face redder than yours was Reid’s.

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Nights spent in a bar after a case that had dragged on far too long was nothing new, but the energy tonight was especially light. Gideon had refused, but everybody else was just relaxed, even Hotch, and the team just got happier at each other's happiness. It was great, really. As Hotch and Morgan sipped on whiskey, JJ and Penelope had already downed four sugary, colorful cocktails and were in a whispered fit of giggles. Elle and Spencer settled on a tamer option of an IPA Spencer couldn’t name.

“SPENCER!” Penelope excitedly shouted, “Y/N is literally you! You’re both adorable! You’re both geniuses! You’re both young!” She drew on her rant, “And if you have a crush on her you should just tell her!” JJ’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she tried to cover Penelope’s mouth.

Morgan and Elle erupted in soft laughter while Hotch cracked an uncharacteristically amused smile.

“Spence, I swear, I didn’t say that! I just...I may have mentioned how happy you get every time she’s around! And how you guys can talk for literally hours!” JJ defended, her words slurring in silly drunkenness.

Spencer rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they teased him about you, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either.

“I don’t have a crush on her! We just….we like the same things! It gives us a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah?” Morgan said through a laugh, “And what is it that boy and girl wonder talk about so much?”

“Well, uh.. a lot of things. But I find she gets the most excited when we are discussing the theories of postmodernism, in that apparent realities are actually just social constructs and veritable realities are subject to change, and uh... we like to talk about linguistics….political philosophy….history... mathematic theory...and uh, oh! Doctor Who.”

Spencer was blushing and spoke about you like a teenage girl did their boyband crush, and the team noticed. They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Spencer gathered from the way they looked back at him.

“I heard she lent you a book too, Reid.” Hotch said before taking a sip from his glass.

“Yes! She did!” He smiled, “It was her copy of Pale Fire. She has an impressive collection of 19th century Russian literature. All in its original dialect! Some of it’s even annotated, which usually would annoy me but since it’s her thoughts and notes I sort of find it endearing.”

“Dr. Reid is endeared!” Greenaway shrieked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his glasses up a little higher on his nose, “I find her incredibly endearing.”

“Y’all that sounded like a dorky love confession.” Morgan said as the team erupted in laughter and Reid’s head fell in a smile. There was no point in denying it anymore: He really, really liked you.

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Within two months, you and Spencer had finally put your shyness aside, and spent a very lovely evening at watching an orchestra at the Smithsonian Music, and sharing noodles at your favorite Thai restaurant. And then you guys spent some time on your couch. And then in your bed. And then in the shower. And then in the kitchen. You were both very sexually frustrated.

For the following two months, as soon as you both stepped out of the office, it was very, very hard to keep your hands off each other. Could either of you help it though? Teenage geniuses don’t experience parties, or football games, or clumsy sex. The time was perfect to make up for it.

And you guys did. The sex part at least. “Football involves a lot of dirt. And germs. And sweat.”

“Oh my god!” you shrieked. His hands were in a place they found themselves more and more often: Your pants.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, continuing his pattern of small circles on that particular bundle of nerves.

“It feels great.” You nodded.

“I uh, I’ve been researching the female anatomy.”

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, but trying to focus on your boyfriends newfound intellect. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”

He watched your undoing with boyish adoration and curiosity before swallowing, “Very.”

“Oh fuck!” Your legs began to shake, “Spencee...I’m gonn--”

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You and Spencer just understood each other.

#drspencerreid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #criminalminds #reid criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #Spencerreid #spencer reid reader insert #spencer x y/n #reid x reader #spencer reid #professor reid x reader #professor reid #season1 reid

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piratewithvigor · 4 years ago

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How I listen to each of my favourite bands (a bullet point piece)

Aerosmith: They're on the radio. It's the fifth time today. Somehow never the same song. Until tomorrow, anyway. One will make you homesick. One will make you sit in slack-jawed awe of Joe Perry. One will make you curse the day he was born. They all make you love him. In the back of your mind, your thumbs hurt.

The Beatles: You have all the studio albums on your iPod nano with the scroll wheel. It has 2GB of space, so there's nothing else. You sing along to the songs with your best friend in 7th grade during school. The teacher tells you to keep it French or to shut up. You switch to "Michelle" because you're 12 and a smartass.

Bon Jovi: You're on the bus home from a long day of fifth grade. When you get home, the same old, same old. You don't know it yet but this is the beginning of your depression. As you graduate from Crossroads to a 2-Disc Best Of, everything feels worse. You work on a puzzle in the basement and even though maybe no one will ever love you, Bon Jovi understands.

Buddy Holly: For the first time since high school started, you have a friend. She's wonderful and she understands you. Maybe there's 3 time zones between you, but it doesn't stop you from digging a hole deep into a fantasy world that you live in for months with her. Buddy's music is simple and the records are bright yellow. Maybe everything will be okay.

David Bowie: You didn't care when he died. You didn't know better. You got a CD of greatest hits for your birthday two months later. You still didn't understand the fuss all too well. A few tracks pop out at you and you get the album that features them. Dad insists you listen to the album in the dark on the floor (he doesn't say while smoking weed, but if it were the 70s, you would have). Finally you understand: David understands you.

Def Leppard: You're 13 and trying to find your place in the world. Trying to make a name, so you write. As the characters who make no sense are fleshed out in 1667 words every single day, the drum loop that finished Pyromania follows you around.

The Doors: You don't know how Jim Morrison came into your life. Maybe it was by an experiment gone wrong or a curiosity. Your classmates question why you're reading a book with a shirtless man posed as if being crucified. You don't know how to answer that you think you might be him. You hadn't believed in reincarnation, but he sparked something inside you. You can feel consciousness slip away when he plays his game called 'Go Insane'. You hold a Celebration Of The Lizard for a poetry slam and the adrenaline pushes you through your fear. You feel Jim's words in your actions for years. He watches you when you sleep.

GNR: You send your siblings out of the basement. They aren't old enough to hear swear words in music and you want to listen to Appetite in the dark. You want to jump on top of the couch and punch the floor. You can feel Axl's anger and it courses through you.

Journey: You've been told you look like Steve Perry. You aren't sure if it's a compliment or an insult. You think you sound like him. You know all the words to Don't Stop Believing at the school dance. Your first memory of your boyfriend was him singing it at the talent show. Your last memory of him is singing I'll Be Alright Without You, severing the final tie. Wheel In The Sky opens your next day. Things don't feel okay anymore.

KISS: You're 4 years old and your Dad is watching the scariest freaks you've ever seen on the TV. In the next scene, the scariest one is sitting and talking to people who look like your grandparents. You forget about them for 7 years. They show up again in your newest hyperfixation and you give them a chance. The freaks who once scared you strip away your fears and set you free.

Led Zeppelin: Your imagination was just opened to the possibilities of stories beyond the realms of reality. What you thought you never knew opened you to a new layer of your past that you didn't understand. The tendrils of influence wrap around every part of your future.

Motley Crue: The writings paint them as the villains. In many ways, they are. In just as many ways, they're the same scared kids you are. For better or for worse, they bring you into a community. There, you experiment hurting yourself in ways therapists don't look for. The greatest friend you could ever want.

Ninja Sex Party: They're a rock band for kids who don't understand rock bands. You have no physical media for them and it feels like you may never get the chance. Copies are limited. So your spotify is thick with every song they've ever recorded. They're fleeting and they're your rock.

Queen: You know just a little too much about them. They're bigger characters than the radio lets them be. You love Bohemian Rhapsody before you begin to hate it before you learn to love it once more.

Rammstein: As they bleed for their art, so you bleed for yours. Perhaps out of spite, perhaps out of desperation, but plague cuts your work short. It cuts you from the glory you could have had. The first album you've ever waited for the release of by a band.

Reckless Love: Never before has a band felt so attainable and yet so far away. Your family doesn't understand them, so you hide them away. The only recklessness was falling in love.

Rolling Stones: Angie helped you through more than you know. The lips are on your tapestry for a reason. You were blind for so much for so long. You never gave them a chance. They're using their chance now.

Rush: Once shrugged-off nobodies. You gave them a chance out of curiosity and desperation. Now you can't understand the possibility of never having liked them. They brought you your first great grief and your first proof of miracles. The red star of the solar federation burns bright. Assume control.

Styx: You're standing in the snow. The bus is an hour late. You can't contact your parents because they took your one method of contact as a punishment for not making your bed. You're listening to a Greatest Hits on your iPod. Crystal Ball. It's an hour. Blue Collar Man. You get home and no one noticed you were late. They're eating without you. Suite Madam Blue.

Tom Petty: The news hits you. Your throat is blocked and you don't say anything. You listen to I Won't Back Down before telling your Dad. He was the first you experienced while being a fan. He wasn't the last. You torture yourself artistically in his honour. You attend a tribute concert and scream yourself hoarse.

Tuff: You want to leave home and block out all the memories as best you can. Stevie makes it impossible. But he's also one of the only ones there as all your best friends who aren't online forget your birthday. He acknowledges you.

Van Halen: The grief is insurmountable. For weeks afterwards, Eruption makes your heart sink. 5150 makes you cry instead of imagine pleasant nonsense as it once did. There is no comfort. If he can go, what's stopping anyone else?

The Who: Maybe they got to your head a little. You were sitting in a room in school for hours each day, completely alone except for Tommy playing on your tiny laptop. No supervision. No classmates. Just your monstrosity of a project and Tommy.

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 3 years ago

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Mon 14 June ‘21

Louis Tomlinson Cooks is here!! Yeah it’s 100% for sure as delightful to watch Louis make himself a sandwich as you might have hoped, but how was his cooking? Well I’ll let Louis rate himself-- “I’m not gonna lie not that appetizing is it, I mean look at it,” he says when it comes time to taste his creation, plus, “chopping peeling slicing not great to be fair- everything else I’m all right” (he’s… not wrong, even aside from the peeler issues has this man ever held a knife??) but- “it probably tastes nice though as I said it’s not about presentation for me… [munches cutely]... it’s actually pretty banging, that’s actually quite nice!” Success! Maybe it’s cause he knows the secret to faking good cooking- “as you can see I don’t have a lot of cooking ability so the more butter the better,” I mean the experts can tell you, that’s advanced stuff right there! #Louis-aChild! Substituting mustard and ketchup for coleslaw is a bit of a bold move, but in a belated attempt to convince the kiddos to eat some healthy veg even though he won’t he does bravely try the cucumber strips despite being “not really a man for cucumber” and makes a pained attempt to be positive- “bit of crunch.” Oh and speaking of crunch I’m relieved to have learned that the waffle is NOT a waffle, it’s a crispy waffle shaped bit of potato; a much more reasonable fish sandwich addition than the American version of a potato waffle! Full Time Meals polled to see what people think of Louis cooking; the two choices are “it was amazing” and “the best,” THEY GET IT. My kind of Louis poll! Helen Seamons rated him a “10/10 for effort and entertainment”, Masterchef acknowledged Louis as one of their own, and Marcus Rashford keeps it simple- “my guy” with a lil heart. YEAH, SAME.

Harry showed up in Italy, where he was papped in Venice being driven around (with PA Luis) on a boat (as you do, in Venice). He’s in a cool embroidered Bode shirt and shades and fancy hair, looking good. He’s seen carrying his suitcase, taking photos, and resting his head on his arms looking like a model. One might think, since we just saw the My Policeman cast and crew on set celebrating the wrap of the shoot, that they were done filming and Harry was off to do something different, but nope, he’s there to film! The book has key scenes in Venice that folks had been wondering about the filming of, and David Dawson is also being boated around Venice for the paps, so, it seems that was just for the wrap of the *UK* filming, which makes sense I guess since it would mostly be different crew I imagine, and perhaps some of the main cast are done as well.

Liam’s NFT sale is happening tomorrow! If you’re confused and want more info, I’M NOT GONNA HELP THAT MUCH… uh but I mean you can check out Liam’s youtube video explaining though I would guess that won’t help much (even Liam thinks so; “there’s probably websites that explain a lot better than me” he admits). There is a roundup now posted of what’s on offer for the buyers of the NFTs but I’m gonna be really honest with you, I’m more confused now than I was before. It’s clear that there are only SIX LONELY BUG NFTs right? They for sure said that I believe. But the packages for each different piece (token bundles) seem to me like they’re available to multiple buyers? Like maybe you don’t get the NFT but multiple top bidders on each get the extras? Like they can’t be selling multiple copies of the NFT... can they?! Isn’t the WHOLE POINT that only one person gets to own it? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW I AM SORRY. What I think I understand to be true: the six NFT buyers get to go to “a once-in-a-lifetime immersive dining experience at Resorts World Las Vegas” (this is the dinner with Liam and “a selection of crypto leaders from around the world” which takes place on display inside a giant glass box) and also “a bespoke commemorative presentation box containing the world’s leading holographic display... with audio... and a custom made Lonely Bug commemorative coin,” and “a unique QR code directing the owner to a special ‘Director’s Cut’ edit of the short digital film ‘Making Of Lonely Bug Collection’ which features unreleased footage from the day of the drop showing the creators' reactions when the winning bids came in” (I mean YEAH I would think it’s unreleased it literally hasn’t happened?) But then there are really a lot of other extras including tickets with Meet & Greet access to any Liam Payne headline show around the world, admission to pool and cinema parties in Vegas with Liam, signed art, non-Liam extras (I will literally bid to NOT have 20 minute phone calls with those crypto entrepreneurs PLEASE… but that’s just me), and access to an online party hosted by Liam; I really get the impression many of these, especially the last one, are just crypto tokens that are for sale that aren’t linked to the main Lonely Bug NFTs and many more than 6 people can buy them but a lot of the extras I’m not clear on which it is. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll understand better WE WILL SEE.

Liam also dropped by the discord last night to say some hellos (after a “long long day”) and that he “bought a piece of NFT art of myself tonight I’m going to give it as a prize Monday night so someone can own a piece of art that was owned by me” (an even less tangible bragging point than simply owning an NFT wow that’s an achievement) and the most important update- “I want a French Bulldog”! Oh and he said “that’s like one I did myself” in his fanart channel to a pic of a tiny crocheted illustration of Louis and Harry holding up a rainbow flag. Didya Liam?? (...Liam is crocheting??) Anyway I recognize who it’s supposed to be because it’s based on a familiar piece of fanart, but Liam definitely might NOT realize it’s meant to be someone specific, and tbh I’m more <eyeballs> at him saying that at the rainbow flag crocheted thing than at it being shippy.

Our Song acoustic version is out this Friday!! And Niall talked about NH3 some in an interview today; “I’m in the studio most days, it feels really good. I’m kinda in the latter stages of it and then I’ll go get a band together and go in and record the whole thing. I’ve just kind of been writing for the past 9 or 10 months and really enjoying it” and “It sounds like a complete album. God knows when it’s coming out because I’d like to be able to get around the world to see all the fans as well” and “It’s different. It sounds a lot more grown up. I’m 27 so it’s about time. I really wanted to kinda cement a sound. The singles I’ve released previously have all been kinda different sounds. I would like to have my ballad sound & like a cemented uptempo sound.” He and Anne Marie also talked about one of the other songs they wrote together saying, “It’s kind of like a, how do you describe it- guitar driven meets Tom Petty meets Katy Perry meets…” but say “We haven’t really decided if we are putting it out yet, the conversations are kinda happening... but it’s completely different (from Our Song).”

#liam payne #whyyyy so confusing #niall horan #louis tomlinson #YES BABE please do bake off now PLEASE #Harry styles #looking so good even though those shorts are AWFUL IMO hilariously frumpy #love that #14 jun 21 #overall I do not think liam should get any more dogs #but a small dog he took everywhere with him would be ADORABLE #(more dogs than he has previously owned I mean he currently has no dogs)

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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

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Taking Chances Ch. 16: Summertime Nightmares (Alt prompt: Consolation/advice)

AO3

The following week was the last of the school year. And it was...weird to say the least. Some of her classmates were upset that she hadn’t been the one to tell them. Many of them (most) assumed that she’d known and just hadn’t told them. She didn’t want to argue with them and she knew her dad hadn’t announced her existence in Gotham yet, so she just pointed out the fact that the Wayne family was very private.

That mostly worked. Lila kept poking though, insisting that Marinette would have told them if she trusted them. Nino disagreed, which shocked Marinette. He usually believed Lila, or at least he hadn’t ever openly gone against her before. But not this time. This time, he insisted that Marinette trusted them and it was probably her dad who asked her not to say anything. While wrong, Marinette didn’t disagree. She’d let her dad take the fall for this one. Alya though...she wasn’t taking it well. She thought Marinette should have told her ages ago. If she had known before Lila came, maybe she would have told Alya. But Alya had been more lax on what she posts on the Ladyblog since Lila’s arrival. She’d done less research, and was posting things not related to Ladybug and Chat Noir. While that wouldn’t usually bother her, Marinette did not want her newly discovered family to be the next big story on Alya’s blog.

So she basically just kept her head down, kept quiet at the class hangouts. And now school was finally out for the summer. It would be a little over two months with no Lila. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Marinette walks into the bakery and smiles widely at her Maman and Papa.

“Hello honey, how are you?” Her Maman asks, sliding a croissant into her hands.

“I’m fine, Maman.” She says, mentally preparing herself to ask what she’d been avoiding. Her dad had offered to let her stay in Gotham for the summer. It was both a chance to bond, and a chance for him to train her a little so that she could fight better, help her make a case against Hawkmoth, maybe even find his identity. He also wanted to give her a break. He thought that taking a step away from Paris, from always policing her emotions, was in her best interest. She agreed, but she still hadn’t talked to her Maman. Or her Papa.

“Bruce called.” Her Papa says. Marinette freezes. He wasn’t supposed to call yet! “Asked if we’d made a decision about letting you go to Gotham for the summer.” Rats.

“I was gonna talk to you guys today! I didn’t wanna upset you. I love you guys so much, but I also really wanna spend time with the other half of my family because I just met them and we haven’t really had a chance to bond or get to know each other and-”

“Honey, we understand.” Her Maman says, cutting off her ramble with a smile. Marinette blinks.

“Really?” She asks in a small voice. She didn’t want to hurt them. Her Maman smiles and relief floods her body.

“Of course honey. It would also give you a chance to not deal with constant akuma attacks.” She says. Marinette squeals in excitement, running over and wrapping her parents in a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She yells. Watch out Gotham, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Wayne is coming back!

---

“Why hasn’t Marinette answered yet? She’s always down for a class picnic.” Alya says with a pout. Lila suppresses an eye roll, opting instead for a worried frown.

“Do you think she’s mad at you?” She prompts, knowing exactly why the little brat wasn’t answering. She was supposed to be on a plane right about now. Lila had borrowed Alya’s phone the day before (to make sure Marinette hadn’t tried to say anything about her again) when she saw the text. Marinette would be spending the entire summer in Gotham.

Lila, in a moment of what was surely pure excellence, deleted the text. It was perfect! Alya wouldn’t know Marinette had left and Marinette would be waiting for a text from her stupid BFF. But Lila had thought of that too. She’d changed the phone number on Marinette’s contact in Alya’s phone. It was now set to go to a fake number in a messaging app that Lila spent €1 on each month. It was worth it though, it’d definitely come in handy before. And now all she had to do was wait. Sure Marinette could always text Alya first, but Lila had heard too many times that Alya usually reached out first. Probably because of how much of a scatterbrain Marinette is.

“Why would she be mad at me?” Alya asks with a nervous smile. Hook, line and sinker. Lila frowns and places a hand on Alya’s arm in a faux attempt at reassurance.

“I didn’t wanna say anything, I really shouldn’t.” She says, shaking her head.

“Please. I’ll owe you one!” Alya insists, just as Lila had hoped. This would be a key part of her plan later on. Once Marinette has been silent for a few weeks.

“Well...okay. I heard her talking to Adrien the other day.” Lil starts, using the only other person who could go against her (but won’t!) “She said- she said she couldn’t trust you!” Alya flinches back as if she was hit.

“She said that?” She asks in a small voice. Lila nods sadly, celebrating on the inside. She’d be able to use this summer, while Marinette is away, to finally take everything away from that no good brat. It would be glorious.

---

Marinette was moments away from committing a murder. She was only going to do it because she knew for a fact that she’d get away with it. With a singular pout, she’d have the world’s greatest detective on her side. She was certain of it.

“Miss Marinette please put down the knife. I assure you prison is not lovely this time of year.” Alfred says with a sigh as he walks into the kitchen.

“Then tell Dick to get out of the kitchen!” She complains, pointing at her oldest brother who was currently covered in frosting and flour. She was trying to make cupcakes for after dinner, since she knew how much Dick likes sweets. She was trying to do something nice. And when Dick came into the kitchen, claiming he just wanted to spend time with his baby sister, Marinette let him stay. Because she loves her brother, she does.

But somehow in the two minutes that he was in the kitchen, he managed to dump the entire canister of flour. Not good, but she’d already baked the cupcakes so it wasn’t the end of the world. But then somehow, he’d managed to dump the entire mixing bowl of frosting. The entire thing. She had no clue how he had managed to do that, considering the fact it was frosting. It didn’t exactly run smoothly out of a bowl. It’s supposed to be able to hold its shape. Honestly, it was a mystery.

“Master Dick, you know that you are not allowed in the kitchen.” Alfred says with a frown. Dick pouts.

“I just wanted to spend some time with Mari.” He mumbles. Marinette almost regrets wanting to kill him. Until she watches as he wipes some of the frosting off of his head and eats it. Yeah, she doesn’t regret it anymore...but she does still love him.

“Okay, we’ll definitely have to spend more time together later. But for right now please go take a shower or something. I need to make more frosting and I do not trust you to be in the room when I do.” Marinette says exasperatedly. Dick sighs but leaves. Marinette puffs out her cheeks, giving Alfred a look.

“Yes?” He asks, his lips quirked up slightly.

“I honestly don’t know how you deal with them sometimes.” She grumbles before grabbing a new bowl. The cupcakes aren’t going to decorate themselves.

---

Jason huffs, annoyed that he’d been talked into staying at the manor with Marinette. He wasn’t mad at Marinette, he would do just about anything for the kid. Didn’t mean he wanted to stay at the manor just to make sure she didn’t sneak onto patrol. She’d assured them that she was too tired to try anything, but Bruce hadn’t believed her. Thus, Jason stuck at the manor.

But the kid had made a shit ton of cupcakes and Jason had a copy of his favorite book, so the night wouldn’t be too bad. After a few hours lounging in one of the rooms near Marinette’s, Jason starts to nod off. He’s about to welcome the rest, knowing everyone would be back from patrol soon, when he’s yanked from sleep by an ear piercing scream. Shit.

---

Marinette blinks as she looks around. Oh god. No, no please don’t let this be real. She chokes out a sob as she looks around her. Paris was once again completely underwater. The Eiffel tower was split in half. Hands shaking, she glances up and sees the moon. Or, what’s left of it. She moans in distress, letting her tears fall freely. She tries to breathe, but it won’t come. She’s panicking now, trying to ignore the burn in her chest as she sees the disaster around her. The terror around her. The destruction. She clutches her throat, trying to force her body to breathe. Force herself to suck in air, to be okay.

“Oh, Marinette, I see you’ve decided to join us again.” A familiar voice says. She tenses, slowly turning and looking behind her. Standing in front of her, just as she remembered him, was Chat Blanc. She should’ve known. She should’ve known that just because it was okay for a couple days didn’t mean it would stay okay. She should’ve tried harder to find Bunnix, should’ve tried to find a way to stop Adrien from finding out. Movement by Chat Blanc’s feet catches her attention and she glances down, regretting it immediately.

“What have you done?” She asks, rushing forward and falling to her knees, desperately trying to stop her little brother from bleeding out. “What have you done?” She yells, glaring at Chat Blanc through her tears. Her hands shake as she puts pressure on the wound, using Damian’s cape in an attempt to stop the blood.

“Marinette-” He tries to say, and she just shakes her head, hating that there’s blood coming out of his mouth. She knows what that means. She knows that this is bad. And there are no hospitals anymore. Everything is underwater. Everything except the three of them.

“Hey no, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you little brother.” She chokes out, trying to smile at him.

“Father,” He manages to say, his voice barely audible. “Help him.”

“No, no, please. Please don’t leave me! Please, no, no!” She screams, trying to wake him back up, trying to force him to get back up. He couldn’t die like this. He couldn’t die at all. She just found him. And now she’s lost him.

“Now we can be together forever Marinette.” Chat Blanc says, finally speaking up. She glares at him and his stupid smirk. The smirk that had haunted her since the first time she saw the white suit.

“I don’t want anything to do with you! You killed my brother!” She screams. Glancing down at her shaking hands, she can’t help but notice they’re covered in blood. She shudders, trying hard not to throw up.

“Brothers, actually.” He quips. She snaps her gaze back to him.

“What?” She hisses, standing so that she can hopefully run and get to one of her brothers before it’s too late. She can’t lose all of them. She can’t. He casually steps to the side, revealing her other brothers. But none of them are moving. Cass is also lying with them, but she’s not moving either. Gone. All of her siblings. And it was all her fault. She let Adrien know her identity. She didn’t try to fix that mistake and this is what happened. She lost every- her dad. Damian said- She turns and runs away from Chat Blanc, scanning the horizon and trying to stay as together as possible. She had to try. She could still save her dad. She could still help him. As she looks around, she manages to spot his cowl. Rushing towards it, she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Marinette?” He says, looking at her with a frown. She scans him for injuries, relieved that he just had a few small wounds. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

“I’m so sorry dad.” She whimpers, throwing her arms around him. He holds her for a moment before pulling away.

“Marinette, we have to go. We can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before-” He stops talking and his face morphs into the most horrified, anguish filled face that Marinette had ever seen. Right before he starts to crumble into ash.

“No!” She screams, horror and grief washing over her in waves. She was all alone and it was all her fault. And now she was going to die too.

---

“Come on Pixie, wake up kid. Come on, it’s okay, I’m here. Jay’s here.” A familiar voice soothes. Marinette stops thrashing, coughing slightly as she realizes the loud noise had been coming from her. She’d been screaming. Jay’s here? But then- She immediately opens her eyes, sobbing in relief when she sees Jason looking at her. No blood. Okay. She lunges forward and wraps her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She cries. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh kid, you don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He whispers, holding her close. They sit like that for a few minutes, until a knock on the door frame makes her reluctantly pull back. She glances over and a new wave of tears immediately appears. She launches herself off the bed and runs into her dad’s arms, sobbing once more.

“Jason, what happened?” He asks quietly, she knows that Jason doesn’t know, but she doesn’t answer for him. She can’t. All she can do is cry in her dad’s arms, relieved that she could cry. That her nightmare didn’t end with her almost being akumatized like it had before.

“No clue. Heard her scream so I ran in here, but she was asleep. Once she woke up she started crying and apologizing.” Jason says softly, probably for her benefit. She tries hard to remind herself that the nightmare didn’t mean anything. Her family wouldn’t be hurt because of her.

“Is everyone okay? Damian and Tim and Dick?” She asks, still buried in her dad’s arms. She’d ask about Cass, but she was still in Hong Kong. Marinette made a mental note to text her later.

“Everyone’s fine. Did you- do you want to talk about it?” He asks, and she almost agrees. Maybe it would be better to finally tell someone about Chat Blanc. To share that burden with someone else. But...maybe not her dad. Especially not since Adrien actively knows her identity and she wouldn’t be opposed to dating the boy in the future.

“I- er, um.” is all she manages to say before shaking her head. She won’t talk to her dad about this, and she doesn’t want to leave his arms right now. Not while she feels safe. She can almost hear him whispering to Jason, but she knows he’s trying not to let her hear, so she ignores them and instead wraps her arms around him tighter.

“Can I go get you a glass of water? Maybe a cookie for Tikki?” Her dad asks after a few moments of whispering with Jason. Marinette frowns. She didn’t want to be left alone. Not yet.

“I’ll stay with ya Pixie Pop.” Jason says, almost as if he had read her mind. She nods, giving her dad one final squeeze before walking back over to the bed and climbing up, letting Jason wrap her in a hug.

“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” Her dad says before walking away. The silence only lasts a beat.

“You wanna tell your big brother why you woke up screamin’?” He asks. Marinette squeezes her eyes shut, desperate to get rid of the images from her nightmare.

“Nightmare.” She says simply. Jason chuckles.

“Kinda figured that part out Pix.”

“I’ve had it before.” She starts, aware of how her voice shakes. “But this time it was a lot worse. This time, I wasn’t the one who died.”

“What could be worse than dyin?” Jason asks, though she can tell by his tone that he knows. He knows what’s worse than dying.

“Watching all of you die.” She says simply. His hug tightens and she lets out a shaky breath, desperately wiping at her tears. “That’s not even the worst part Jay.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna.” He says softly.

“I know.” She says. “A version of it has happened. In a different timeline. That’s the worse part. Luckily when I had to go save that timeline, I didn’t know you guys. So you weren’t caught in the middle of everything. But in my nightmare, since you know about me and- and you guys just wanted to help but no one can win against that. No one. It was so hard to beat him when it actually happened. But the dream. It was awful.” There’s silence as he just holds her, lets her know he’s there without saying it. She’s so thankful for her family. For her brothers.

“Here’s your water.” Her dad says. She finally sits up and looks at him, noting the way his face is creased in worry. She manages a small smile.

“Thanks dad.” She says, her smile growing slightly as his face begins to relax.

“Mari! You’re still up?” Dick says, walking into the room. She blinks at him in confusion, not expecting him to just walk in. She watches as he looks between everyone else, clearly putting it together that something was wrong. He frowns, before his face stretches back into a grin. “Come on, bring all your pillows and blankets and we’ll have a Disney movie marathon until we fall asleep.” He directs, running out of the room to presumably get his own materials for the movie marathon.

“You don’t have to.” Her dad reassures her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shrugs.

“Might as well. I know I’ll definitely not be able to sleep anymore tonight.” She says, grabbing a couple pillows and her blanket, dragging it with her to the movie room. Leave it to her brothers to have a way to help her feel better after a nightmare. Marinette smiles to herself, once again relieved that she was in Gotham.

Masterlist

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82

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creatingnikki · 4 years ago

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What 2020 has taught me

1. Those things that seem like content for sci fi or pure fiction are actually things that can happen. To the entire world. Like a pandemic. And to you. Like a seizure.

2. Everyone is sad. Everyone is struggling. In different ways and in different measures. Makes no one special. But you still get to feel sad for yourself and be compassionate towards others. But it's also okay to draw boundaries because you're everyone too. Remember, not special? You're sad and trying to deal with it too.

3. Every job you have will not add value to your life. It will not teach you new things or give you people you'll want to stay in touch with. Sometimes some jobs will only be a season of your life. Even if the season lasts for over a year. It's okay.

4. You know how you thought picking a college and picking a major and picking your first job and picking a specific industry were all the career decisions you had to make? Yeah, no. It's never a one time thing. You could have a job as a marketing strategist for two years and then want nothing to do with it. And then you'll have to make another decision and work towards it. So I'd like to call it moves. It's like chess. You always have to make a move. And it always has to be strategic, yes. But the truth is in your 20s it probably won't. Even if you try. And as long as you're trying, you'll be fine.

5. You may have different sorts of friends like the one you only talk to about kdrama with or the one you met when you went book shopping alone and the friendship is all about books really. That's normal. But irrespective of why and how you became friends with them, if you consider them a friend then there has to be this basic sense of care, respect and empathy for each other. I don't care what people want to say. If you're faced with the worst trauma of your life, the least your friends can do is check up on you regularly. On text. And if they don't even do that then guess what? They aren't friends. They are acquaintances. Social media and quick promises make everyone seem like your friend. But they are not. They are just nice people who will be nice to you for specific periods and then wander away like you are a speck of dust floating in their journey.

6. You speak a lot and write and you express yourself and you’re emotionally mature but oh my god. You still hold in so much. You’ve known that at a subconscious level and over the last year people - experts - have told you that. You have also realized that you make your pain and sadness about pettier things because dealing with them, admitting about them, sharing that with your friends, is easier. You do that so that you don’t have to deal with the real stuff. Because it’s so damn painful. And you don’t know how to do it. Yet. Acknowledging is the first step anyway right? I know you’re confused about how exactly to let go of all this pain and sadness and feel lighter, and you know that talking to people really isn’t the solution, but I also know you’re smart enough to figure it out.

7. Talking about being smart...you know you’re different than others. Better. Special. Smarter. None of these are the right words. And you never voiced this out until this year because you knew it would make you come across as narcissistic. Some would say it’s because you’re an INFJ. But my mother once said that this may be the first time we are consciously living life but our souls are old and so our instinct and the things we know but can’t explain are because this isn’t the first time for our souls. The connections we feel with certain people, the reason we are so different from our siblings who grew up in the exact same environment with the exact same opportunities, our sense of right and wrong...it’s all because our souls learn and grow with each time and that’s why we are who we are. I think that’s probably how I can explain what I have always felt. That I am living in a different universe than everybody but I have to pretend to be in this one and dumb my emotions and thoughts down. Maybe that’s because my soul has lived through thousands of years while most around me are living their 100th life. Or maybe I’m just narcissistic, who knows?

8. You shift between talking in first person and second person but that’s because that’s how you think in your head and talk to yourself and live your life. You ask yourself things and you accuse yourself of things and you apologize to yourself and you comfort yourself. I think that seeps into your writing and the changing of the voices.

9. You always genuinely thought that you’d not be afraid of dying. And then what happened this October proved you shockingly wrong. I know it’s not so much being afraid of dying but the unbearable pain of knowing what that would mean to your family. So you have to be more prudent and less reckless with your life and the choices you make.

10. Regret is not something that plagued you but this year the realisation and pain of giving away your favourite books from your own personal collection to people you care about as a show of affection and them turning out to be ass holes or losers has hit you so hard. So, yes. No more of that shit. I really fucking want my copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower back. UGH. With the childhood picture of me inside it!

11. Sleeping at 5 am in the morning stops being fun or romanticised when you realise just how much harm it does to your body and mind. Literally every single disease and disorder can be traced back to a shitty fucking sleep schedule. It’s not just the hours you sleep but also the quality of sleep and the time you sleep at. So yes sleeping for 8 hours is healthy but not if that 8 hours is from 5 am to 12 pm. ‘Not a morning person’ is just another construct of capitalism and you don’t realise how many industries profit from having you believe that and staying up late or all night. Entertainment. Food. Alcohol. Pharma. Biologically and naturally you are a bloody morning person. And you don’t need 3 cups of coffee to begin your day or your phone notifications to get you to open your eyes and brain to wake up.

12. Sometimes you really have to stop taking people so seriously. I know the idea of treating people as casual friends or entertainment makes you want to fight that concept but you know what? Some people like Pineapple are ever only going to be good for that. No matter how much they ‘grow and change’. So keep them in the background for whenever you want some entertainment or drama. But please don’t clear up your busy schedule to meet them or send them gifts on their birthday.

13. If you don’t have the fruit juice or green juice within half an hour of making it then you are losing out on its most optimum health benefits. Or when you remove the white stringy stuff from oranges. That’s where all the actual nutrients are.

14. I am privileged and so are most of the people I interact with. The global pandemic has been hell for a lot of people around the world. Health wise. Financially. Losing people they care about. But I was blessed enough to be safe at home and have a job that I could smoothly do from home and not have a pay cut or 4-hour long Zoom meetings. So honestly when my friends tell me 2020 has been bad I have to stop and ask them why? Yes, the crippling uncertainty and anxiety is not something that can be undermined. But most people I know had very great positive life-changing milestones this year like moving away to another country for college or taking their first solo trip or getting married. So I have to ask them. Because I am not going to agree that everybody’s 2020 and pandemic narrative is the same.

15. Money gets spent really quickly. When I left my job earlier this year because of personal issues, I thought I had enough savings to last me a year. Full disclosure - I mean to last my personal expenses because I live with my parents. But it didn’t even last me 3 months. And so to use money wisely and buy things that provide utility than instant gratification is something to follow. Also buying one pair of really expensive but quality shoes is better than buying 5 pairs of affordable but low quality shoes that will have a very short life and force you to buy more. I know that higher price doesn’t always mean better quality but sometimes it does. And as an adult now I want to do the whole quality > quantity thing even with things and not just people.

16. Everyone in their 20s went through a crisis of what they should do with their lives and their careers and it’s not unique to the 21st century and the challenges of today. Whether it was Vincent Van Gogh in the 19th century or Sylvia Plath in the 20th, every single person, as brilliant as them went through the torture of making these decisions and living with their consequences. You may think I picked wrong examples for they both killed themselves but you know what? They were the people who really want to live more than anyone. They knew what life meant. And maybe if mental health help was more accessible back then their lives would be longer and more peaceful.

17. Telling people everything is overrated. You don’t have to talk about every single thing that’s on your mind or that’s going on in your life. The good and the bad and the mediocre. You have to be mindful about how much of yourself you’re giving away.

18. Re-watch Suits when people at work feel intimidating because the confidence + negotiation tactics that they show can actually work irl cos at the end of the day no matter in what position you’re dealing with people who have emotions and fears and insecurities and desires. You understand how to leverage that nobody can get the better of you.

19. You belong to yourself. No matter how much you love someone or how much they have done for you or how much you owe them - you belong to yourself. You can’t live your life for someone else. Everyone belongs to themselves first. No relationship, no promise, no circumstance should make you feel like you have to give up your life and make it all about them. If and when the time comes to die for them, go ahead. Take a bullet. Donate that kidney. Write them in your will. But live your life for yourself. And let them live theirs.

20. Twenty three was a challenging year. When it started you claimed the age 23 sounds boring and insignificant. Guess it proved you wrong. It hurt so much now. But that only means you’ll look back on it later and see how it added so much wisdom and resilience to your being. It doesn’t mean that it makes all the bad things that happened to you okay. Or that you should be grateful to them. Fuck no. It means that you should be kinder to yourself because at the end of the day, your mind and body find it in themselves to deal with whatever is thrown their way. They have your back. It’s time you learn to sit straight.

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years ago

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Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part 11)

A/N- Okay so this is just a short 2k fill in chapter! It’s kinda cute and kinda sad but it was too long to add to the last chapter, and it doesn’t fit in with the theme of the next chapter (though it sets it up quite nicely!). The next chapter is likely going to be a bit angsty but I promise it’ll have a rewarding ending to it! I hope to have it written and up sooner rather than later but, until then, enjoy this little piece.

Word Count- 2028

The ten minute drive from Baker Street to the Natural History Museum went by in a flash- most of it being spent by Mycroft giving you a mental tour of the building's various rooms and the 'most appropriate route to take'. Though it did also take a minute or two for you to convince him to not get everybody kicked out for a private visit, no matter how many people were there.. Admittedly, you hadn't been to the museum for 6 years or so now- after living so long in London it feels less of a luxury being only round the corner from it- but walking through the doors made you feel like a child again. Entry to the museum was free, but that didn't mean you didn't see Mycroft swiftly pushing a few notes into the donation bin at the front before guiding you forwards. Glancing up, you eyed the blue whale skeleton that hung from the ceiling and frowned. Mycroft caught your look and spoke up.

"Ah yes, Hope has been a relatively recent addition to the museum. She was found dead on an Irish beach back in 1891. It's a rather beautiful marvel to gaze upon, though, large as she is, she doesn't quite fill the hole in my heart that was left after my beloved Dippy was removed." Your eyes scanned the skeleton of the large mammal once more before looking back at Mycroft. "I did try to convince the board to keep the diplodocus somewhere but all attempts were futile. There's only so much force you can put into such a topic without exposing yourself as-"

"As a man who loves dinosaur bones more than he loves people?" Mycroft shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed.

"The very thing." Lifting your arm, you rested your hand at the crook of Mycroft's elbow to encourage him to move on.

"When we get home and have dinner we can raise a toast in Dippy's honour.. but for now, my mind's been taken over by that huge statue of Darwin." And the pair of you headed off, your hand very much staying place at Mycroft's arm as you wandered through the rooms- Mycroft more than willing to reel off facts about every deceased animal of history and, more often than not, even impressing the workers with his spiel of facts. Though you were very much enjoying wandering aimlessly through the room of human evolution, you most definitely noticed the pull from the man beside you as he was eager to reach his beloved dino-pals. As you turned the corner into the slightly darkened dinosaur room, you tripped over your feet slightly as you felt Mycroft stop in his tracks, his eyes wide and taking everything in. He looked as happy as a boy at Christmas and, quite frankly, it was adorable. You nudged him slightly when he still didn't move. "You okay?"

"Sorry, it just seems as though, no matter how many times I come here, it always feels like the first." He had shaken his head as though to bring his thoughts back to focus before taking a few steps into the gallery and leading you over to the skeletal remains of a Baryonyx. "The name Baryonyx roughly translates to 'Heavy Claw' from the Ancient Greek's 'Barys' meaning heavy and 'onyx' being claw or talon." He spoke, his voice smooth and relaxed as his fingers brushed over the board that announced the name of the creature within the glass. "It was also an excellent swimmer which it would use to its advantage while hunting." You listened to his every word as he spoke, grinning as he excitedly told you how many teeth it had and it's preferred techniques for capturing food before he moved you onto the next one.

"Oh these beauties have always been my favourite." You almost whispered, taking in the sight of the huge triceratops skull. You barely noticed Mycroft's hand shift from his pocket until you felt the heat of his palm against the small of your back, fingers squeezing slightly by your hip as he spoke.

"Mine too. Sherlock used to say they were boring and that we might as well have gone to the zoo to look at rhinos. He ended up spending 5 months trying to prove that the rhinos were descendants from the triceratops and then avoided me for 3 weeks when he realised there was no connection at all."

"That sounds about right. Though I can't imagine Sherlock enjoying it here very much anyway.." Mycroft began to guide you to a small bench just off the side to sit down, still giving you the view of the beautiful dinosaur bones.

"He didn't. When we were much younger he would kick off until Mummy and Father would tell us it's time to go and I had to go with them.. Then as we got a little older and Sherlock properly found his legs, he would simply run from the doors round to the science museum. Of course mummy and father had to follow him as he was so young, but one time I decided to stay here. They didn't realise I hadn't followed them until it was time to go home 5 hours later." Mycroft spoke quietly.

"Found his legs? That's at, what, four? Five? How young were you?"

"I was 9 the first time, I think." Now, Mycroft, you don't just 'think'; you know. Your hand moved to rest above his own on his knee, brushing your thumb fondly over his knuckles. "But it isn't all bad. Some of my best days as a child were spent here, and a lot of the staff were very kind and would teach me extra facts that weren't displayed. There was one gentleman who even gave me his own copies of some books that they had here. I'd wander the whole museum in time but I always found myself back here on this bench just.. watching. This room felt more like home than my very house sometimes. It was the room where I could escape the real world and find peace. Eventually Mummy, Father and Sherlock stopped bothering with the visits because Sherlock found the science museum boring after he'd prove them wrong on something each time, but I'd still pop back in on occasion without them.. Coming to think about it, I've never actually brought anybody here with me at all." You squeezed at his fingers and settled back into the bench.

"Well I am incredibly glad that I found out about your little interest, and I feel even more honoured that you let me come here with you." You beamed. And it was the truth. Evidently, this little museum meant much more to Mycroft than you could have ever imagined and it warmed your heart to know that he trusted you to see him nerd out over some bones.

"Eventually I used this very building as the scaffolding to build my mind palace. My files on Sherlock, very appropriately, are nestled in the human biology room. But most people's information is either stored in the entrance, where Dippy remains over Hope, might I add, or in a few of the rooms I find less interesting.." You didn't have to ask to know he was referencing 'that room with all the bloody rocks'. "I love most of the galleries too much to taint them with information on people that aren't important. The likes of Gregory and Doctor Watson now reside in Hintze Hall as the years have passed." His eyes remained focused in front of him, unblinking, as though he was wandering the very halls at that moment.

"And where.. where are my files?" You had to ask, really. Since he was on the subject anyway. "If you've put them in the marine reptiles room when you know I'm terrified of the ocean I shall never forgive you." Mycroft's hand flipped beneath yours so the pads of your fingers brushed before he blinked and looked over to you, a small smile on his face.

"Here." Oh. Well that's.. something. You shifted to give him a quick kiss on his cheek, knowing he wasn't overly fond of PDA and tugged him to stand.

"And on that note, I think we should go and grab some lunch before you make me cry in front of the dinosaurs."

---

After lunch, you both spent a few more hours walking from room to room (and of course circling round to the dinosaur gallery again) before you decided to call it a day at 4pm. Before departing, you headed towards the toilets that happened to be beside the little gift shop and you had a browse while Mycroft was occupied. Grinning, you picked up a deep blue plush triceratops and stroked a finger across its back. It was just small enough that, after purchasing, you could hide the little guy in the loose fabric of the sweatshirt you wore, acting innocent as you waited back outside near the wall. After going to the bathroom yourself, the pair of you headed outside where a car was waiting for you. Sliding in the back seat, you couldn't contain your little gift anymore.

"Surprise!" You laughed, producing the small toy from under your clothes and into the hands of the man beside you. He studied it briefly before beginning to laugh himself as he reached into his inner pocket and handed you the matching dinosaur, though purple in colour. "God, we're such children aren't we?" You noted as you swapped plushie companions, each of you brushing a finger on its nose as though it were a small pet. "I daren't think what your colleagues would say if they knew you were now the proud owner of a baby triceratops teddy that's.." You glanced at the tag. "..Suitable for children aged 12 months plus!"

"Probably nothing as bad as if they realised said triceratops was going to take proud placement on my desk at home." He beamed. "Thank you, this really does mean a great deal to me." You knew he wasn't just talking about the toy that rolled around his long fingers and you shifted to rest your head lightly on his shoulder.

"We can come back any time. I, for one, know I'll never get bored of looking through the galleries.. Or I'll never get bored of watching you light up as we walk through said galleries. Either or works, really." He hummed in response, his emotions slightly overwhelmed from the day and its revelations into his past. "Plus there were about 10 other little dinos in the shop and I've always been one to want a full collection.. so, if we pace ourselves, that's at least 10 more trips."

"13.. Although that could be tripled if we take the colour variations into account."

"Oh, of course! Can't half-arse a collection or it's just pointless."

"I concur."

"That's settled then. Almost 40 more trips to finish off our collection.. And thennnn we can move onto the figurines." Mycroft let out a laugh beside you and tilted to rest his head atop yours for the remainder of the journey home.

---

The evening between you was shared over a meal (where, as promised, a small toast was made to the memory of Sir Dippy) before Mycroft sat to finish the papers for Greg. Eventually you collapsed into bed at a relatively reasonable time, groaning at the throbbing in your legs from the day's adventure before finally slipping into rest.

---

The next day passed relatively quickly. The morning was spent visiting Greg in his office to drop off the papers before the pair of you took a small stroll through the streets of London. Eventually, Mycroft and yourself even got a text message from Sherlock giving a (albeit half-arsed) apology for his behaviour the day before and the rest of the day was spent in bliss. That was until exactly 17 minutes after you got back home when Mycroft's mobile began to ring. He swallowed deeply, showing you the caller ID of the person he had been dreading to speak to post-Eurus and answering.

"Ah, yes.. Hello, Mummy."

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kakaxhi · 4 years ago

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Kakashi Hatake | Just Friends

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x F!Reader Prompt: "We aren't friends and you fucking know it" Warnings: language, angst (with a happy ending!), alcohol consumption Word Count: 1.1k A/N: Am I ever going to write a full fic that isn't about Kakashi? Who knows? *reposting because I accidentally deleted the original post!

Kakashi, being one of your oldest friends, could always tell when something was off with you. The way you kept him at a distance was something he hadn't experienced often, only when he unintentionally did something to upset you. Walking to the training grounds, he couldn't help himself from thinking back to the other night. He couldn't remember much, having one too many drinks with Asuma; you and Kurenai watching along.

"Kakashi Sensei! You're late for training again!"

"Sorry, we'll be working on target practice for now."

Surprised by their sensei's lack of reasoning for being late, the kids just looked at each other in confusion. Kakashi just rested against a tree, too lost in thought to answer their questions.

As you returned from work later on in the late afternoon, you were surprised to see Kakashi out your apartment. The orange book shut and was put away as soon as he saw you coming closer. For the first time since you met him, you didn't want to be in his presence.

"Why are you here, Kakashi?" You barely looked up at him as you got the door open.

"One of my closest friends seems to suddenly want nothing to do with me. I'm supposed to just let her go? Did I do something to make you upset with me?"

And there is was, that one word that made your heart cave in your chest. 'Friends.' The feelings you had for the Copy Ninja was not how a friend should feel towards another.

"[Y/N]?"

A tear threatened to spill, eyes staring at the sky as you tried to control yourself. Your voice wavered as you spoke, and Kakashi hated himself more knowing you were upset over him.

"We're not friends, Kakashi."

"What?"

Sniffling, you raised your voice slightly, "You heard me. We aren't friends and you fucking know it."

Kakashi winced as the door slammed shut, staring at the wood for way too long. Something he hated even more was the sobs he could hear behind it. His hands shook as he reached to knock, but pulled away the last second. You both needed some space, and with that, he left.

The next few days were hell for Kakashi. Whether he was at home or on the training grounds with his students, his thoughts always traveled back to you. He missed the way you made him laugh, and the way you'd be so intrigued by the things he had to say - even if it was something casual. Or the smiles you'd give him when he was stressed, the reassuring words that everything would be okay.

But what Kakashi missed most was having you by his side.

Icha Icha didn't even seem to be enjoyable with the mood he was in. He couldn't lose someone else he cares for. If he felt miserable not talking to you for some days, he couldn't imagine how he'd feel if you walked out of his life forever.

The loud knock on your door startled you as you looked up from your book. Placing the bookmark between the pages, you shut the book and placed it on the table before getting up. You were surprised to see Kakashi on the other side, which you probably shouldn't have been. No one else would've knocked on your door this late at night.

"Kakashi, what- Why are you here?"

"Grab your shoes and come on, its a nice night out for a walk."

"Actually I was about to head to bed so-"

Kakashi placed a hand on your arm, "Please?"

You sighed, hating that you were unable to say no to him, "Yeah, okay. Let's go."

Silence overtook the both of you, tension building with each passing second. Kakashi's hand stayed on the back of his neck, nerves getting the better of him. You were sure you would end up walking around the entire village if you didn't speak up first, so you did exactly that.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you the other day."

"Oh, don't apologize for that. I just wish you'd talk to me instead of slamming the door in my face. I know I can be a dick sometimes but I never meant to hurt you."

You nodded, arms crossed over your chest as you tried to find the right words to say, "Things happen, Kakashi."

Kakashi hated that you hid away from him. He stopped walking, turning you to face him. His hands fell to his sides, seeing the sadness written across your features.

"That thing you said the other day, about us not being friends? You're right. Friends don't act like we do, and I'm sorry it took so long for me to come to terms with it. It's just," he sighed, "I've lost so many people. I didn't want the same thing to happen to you. The last couple of days without speaking to you fucking sucked. I don't want a lifetime of that."

You nodded, "I know, being away from you hurt like hell, but the thought of you hating me hurt worse."

Kakashi shook his head, "I could never hate you, [Y/N]. How I feel - hell, I couldn't put it into words if I tried."

You smirked, "You could try."

Kakashi just laughed, pulling you into him, "Actions speak louder then words, sweetheart."

He pulled down his mask, lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss. The shock of Kakashi finally kissing left you quickly, your hands pressed against his chest as your lips moved against his own. All the pent up tension finally left the two of you. You both only coming apart when air was needed.

"So," Kakashi softly spoke when he caught his breath, "what happens next? Are we dating now?"

Your hand gently caressed his cheek, burning the image of his mask-less face into your memory, "We can figure that all out later. Right now, I just want you to kiss me again."

Kakashi smiled, making you swoon, "I can definitely do that."

Kakashi pulled you in for another knee-buckling kiss, the rising sun's rays illuminating your features. At the moment, that didn't matter. All that mattered in that moment was the two of you, finally together.

#kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake imagine #kakashi x reader #kakashi #naruto #naruto x reader #naruto imagine

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nim-lock · 4 years ago

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Art Career Tips, 2021 Edition

Here’s an edited version of my 2019 answered ask, because... this feels relevant.

It is a problem of capitalism that folks equate their income as a judgement of their value as people; and let me preface. You are worth so much. You have inherent value in this world. Your income is not a judgement on who you are (plenty of billionaires are actively making the world worse). LARPing self-confidence will go a long way to helping you get paid more for your work, because clients will believe that you know what you are doing, and are a professional.

& real quick—my own background is that I’ve been living off my art since 2018. I went to art school (Pratt Institute). I work in a publishing/educational materials sphere, and a quarter of my income is my shop. Not all of this information may apply to you, so it is up to you to look through everything with a critical eye, and spot pick what is relevant.

So there are multiple ways of getting income as an artist;

Working freelance or full-time on projects

Selling your stuff on a shop

Licensing (charging other companies to use your designs)

This post primarily covers the freelance part; if you’re interested in the other bits there is absolutely info out there on the internet.

IF you are just starting (skip to next section if not applicable) dream big, draw often (practice helps you get better/more efficient), do your best to take "a bad piece” lightly. You’re gonna RNG this shit. At some point your rate of “good” works will get higher. Watch tutorial videos & read books. A base understanding of “the rules”; anatomy, perspective, composition, color helps you know what the rules are to break them. This adds sophistication to your work. One way you can learn this stuff is by doing “studies”—you’re picking apart things from life, or things other people have done, to see what works, and how it works.

Trying to turn your interests into a viable career means that you are now a SMALL BUSINESS; it really helps to learn some basic marketing, graphic design, figure out how to write polite customer service emails; etc. You can learn some of this by looking it up, or taking skillshare (not sponsored) classes by qualified folks. Eventually some people may get agents to take care of this for them—however, I do recommend y’all get a basic understanding of what it takes to do it on your own, just so you can know if your agent is doing a good job.

Making sure your portfolio fits the work you want to get

Here is a beginner portfolio post.

Research the field you’d like to get into. The amount people work, the time commitment, the process of making the thing, the companies & people who work for them.

Create work that could fit in to the industry you’re breaking into. For example, if you want to do book cover illustration, you draw a bunch of mockup book covers, that can either be stuff you make up, or redesigns of existing books. If you’re not 100% sure what sort of work is needed for the industry, loop back into the portfolios of artists in a similar line of work as whatever you’re interested in, and analyze the things they have in common. If something looks to be a common project (like a sequence of action images for storyboard artists), then it’s probably something useful for the job.

CLIENTS HIRE BASED ON HOW WELL THEY THINK YOUR WORK FITS WHAT THEY WANT. If they’re hiring for picture books, they’re gonna want to see picture book art in your portfolio, otherwise they may not want to risk hiring you. Doesn’t have to be 100% the project, but stuff similar enough. If you aren’t hired, it doesn’t mean your work is bad, it just wasn’t the right fit for that specific client.

If you have many interests, make a different section of your portfolio for each!

Making sure you’re relevant

Have a social media that’s a little more public-facing, and follow people in the career field you’re interested in. Fellow artists, art directors, editors, social media managers; whoever. Post on your own schedule.

Interact with their posts every so often, in a non-creepy way.

If you’ve made any contacts, great! Email these artists, art directors, editors, former professors, etc occasional updates on your work to stay in touch AND make sure that they think about you every so often.

Show up to general art events every once in a while! If you keep showing up to ones in your area (when... not dying from a sneeze is a thing), folks will eventually start to remember you.

Industry events & conferences can be pricey, so attend/save up for what makes sense for you. Industry meetups are important for networking in person! In addition to meeting people with hiring power, you also connect with your peers in the community. Always bring a portfolio & hand out business cards like candy.

Active job hunting

Apply to job postings online.

If interested in working with specific people at specific companies, you could send an email “I’d love to work with you, here’s my portfolio/relevant experience”, even if they aren’t actively looking for new hires. Be concise, and include a link to your work AND attached images so the person reading the email can get a quick preview before clicking for more.

Twitter job postings can be pretty underpaid! Get a copy of the Graphic Artists’ Guild Handbook Pricing & Ethical Guidelines to know your rate. I once had a twitter post job listing email me back saying that other illustrators were charging less, and I quote, “primarily because they’re less experienced and looking for their first commission”. This was not okay! For reference, this was a 64-illustration book. The industry rate of a children’s book (~36 pages) is $10k+, and this company’s budget was apparently $1k. For all of it.

Congrats you got a job! Now what?

Ask for like, 10% more than they initially offer and see if they say yes. If they do, great! If not, and the price is still OK, great! Often company budgets are slightly higher than they first tell you, and if you get this extra secret money, all the better for you.

Make sure you sign a contract and the terms aren’t terrible (re: GO GET THE Graphic Artists’ Guild Handbook Pricing & Ethical Guidelines)

Be pleasant and easy to work with (Think ‘do no harm but take no shit’)

Communicate with them as much as needed! If something’s going to be late, tell them as soon as you know so they aren’t left wondering or worse, reaching out to ask what’s up.

And if all goes well, they’ll contact you about more jobs down the line, or refer you to other folks who may need an artist, etc.

Quick note about online shops/licensing and why they’re so good

It’s work that you do once, that you continuously make money off of. Different products do well in different situations (conventions vs. online, and then further, based on how you market/the specific groups you are marketing to), so products that may not do well initially may get a surge later on.

Start with things that have low minimum order quantity and are relatively cheap to produce, like prints and stickers.

If you are not breaking even, go back to some of the earlier portions of this and think about how you could tweak things as a small business. Ease of access is also very important with this; for example, if you only take orders through direct messages, that immediately shuts off all customers who don’t like talking to strangers.

Quick resource that you could look through; it’s the spreadsheet of project organizing that I made a while back

Licensing is when people pay you for the right to use your work on stuff they need to make, like textbooks or greeting cards. This is generally work you’ve already made that they are paying the right to use for a specified time or limited run of products. This is great because you’ve already done the work. I am not the expert on this. Go find someone else’s info.

“I am not physically capable of working much”/ “I need to pay the bills”

Guess who got a hand injury Sept 2020 that messed me up that entire month! I had a couple jobs going at the time that I was terrified of losing, but they were quite understanding when I told them I needed to heal. So: Express your needs as early as you know you need them. Also do lots of stretches and rest your hands whenever you feel anything off; this will save your health later. Like, the potential of a couple months of no income was preferable over losing use of my hands for the rest of my life.

This continues to apply if you have any other life situation. Ask for extra time. Ask for clarification. If you tell people ahead of time, folks are often quite understanding. Know how much you are capable of working and do your best not to overdo it. (I am.. bad at this)

Do what MAKES SENSE for your situation. If doing art currently earns you less money than organizing spreadsheets, then do that for now, and whenever you have the energy, break down some of the tips above into actionable tiny chunks, and slowly work at em.

The original ask I got in 2019 mentioned ‘knowing you’re not good enough yet’. Most artists experience imposter syndrome & self-doubt—the important thing is to do your best, and if anything, attempt to channel the confidence of a mediocre white man. If he can apply to this job/charge hella money for Not Much, then so can you!

Check out this Art Director tumblr for more advice!

Danichuatico’s Literary Agent guide

Kikidoodle’s Shop Shipping Tutorial

Best of luck!

–

Once again disclaimer this post is just the ramblings of a man procrastinating on other things that need to be done. I’ve Long Posted my own post so that it turns into mush in my brain if I try to read it, but I wrote this so I should know this content. If you got down here, congrats. Here’s a shrimp drawing.

Yee Ha.

My reference post tag My tip jar

#reference #artist information #UHHHHH I don't know man

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comehomeducklings · 3 years ago

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Present [Part 1] (Obsession)

A/N: Please don't copy, redistribute, and/or post my work on this site or any others. This has taken my time and creativity to come up with the story's characters and plot.

Also, I swear my writing gets better. It's a little rough right now but I'm planning on rewriting them.

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1943 ~ 6th year

No sound above whispers could be heard throughout the great hall. The food on the table hasn't been touched by a single hand. The very thought of eating churning all our stomachs. Not during these times. Our heads turn every now and then, afraid of what might sneak up behind us. The death of Myrtle and others has shaken the entire school. A murderer is among us, trust is such a foreign concept now.

Dark purple eye-bags lay beneath every single student's eyes. No one is allowed to go home for the holidays. They aren't allowing us to leave, we are stuck in this cloud of darkness and uncertainty. No owls are supposed to be sent out. As the head girl, I'm responsible for every student's life and responsibilities. I have to know where everyone is at all times. It gets tiring at times, but necessary nonetheless.

A nightly routine consisted of all my dormmates huddling around each other. No sleep would come to us all night. We wouldn't move from the same spot until light shown from the windows. Our beds are all pressed together in the farthest corner of the room from the door. Our wands never leaving our hands in case of danger. Every little sound made from the outside provoking us. Even to the point of going mad. Potions used to stay awake, slowly wearing off as the morning arose. No sleep, we can't afford that luxury anymore.

I would leave the dorm to wait at the portrait for our assigned house professor to come. They would tell me it was safe for everyone to head to the great hall to get breakfast. As soon as they were done I quickly went to everyone's dormitory to wake them up, if they even slept at all. I would then inform them that it was safe to step out of their dorms. After everyone got situated I would have the students form a line and lead them towards the great hall. 1st-3rd years would occasionally hold the folds of my robes. Fearing that when they blink I would be gone. Leaving them alone to deal with the dangers that lurk in the school.

Not once have I lied about how they are going to be all right. That would be cruel. These students don't seek pathetic nurturing words, they want a protective force watching over them. So many clubs and activities have been canceled. Hogsmede and quidditch proving as a prime example. No one complained though, quidditch players too afraid to even step out of the castle's walls even if they were allowed.

Back to the present, I hold my good friend's hand as she slightly shakes from anxiety. I can see it in her eyes, the doubt of making it alive eating away at her brain. The spark once present in her shiny green eyes being blown out. Amelia, her name being. She's been biting her nails again, to the point where it had bled. This can be backed by the dried-up blood that is present at the tip of her finger's nail.

A booming voice can be heard, "You are now being dismissed to head to class, your houses head girl and boy will be assigning the group you'll be heading off with."

First period has been removed from every perfect and head's schedule. During this time we search the whole castle for any wanders. We make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be. If someone got lost or went to the wrong class we escort them to where they need to be.

After every class, students have a limited amount of time to get to their next lesson. Although, perfects and heads get more time to make sure everyone is where they are needed quickly. Then we hurry to our class after scanning the halls swiftly.

The once safest school of the wizarding world giving birth to the dark ages. More bodies have been found littering the schools. Most of them not found until their ghosts appear before us. Every single one not knowing how they died. Like the murderer is invisible upon meeting the victim. I originally suggested it could have been done by poison. When the bodies were checked, no traces of poison had been traced.

Professors have been waiting for the person who is responsible to slip up, to give us a clue. I don't think that will happen though. The process of these killings has been too thought out and well planned. I wouldn't be surprised if these mass killings have been planned months before, even maybe years. I've been talking to the ghosts to try and gather all details, even the potentially useless ones. When our headmaster made us heads keep tabs on everyone, the killings stopped for a short amount of time. It was like the mastermind was creating a way to best us, to get past the "little inconvenience." It didn't take long for them to find the weak parts in the plan.

What we have got though, is that every single student killed has been a muggle-born. A classic case of an unfair stigma around the poor wizards and witches. They never were able to catch a break. Amelia, one of my close friends in the friend group. She's a muggle-born, hence the shaking of her hands. I've been keeping a closer eye on her, she doesn't leave my side. She comes on my patrols so I can keep her in my sights, with of course the permission of the teachers. There are only two times that I can not watch over her. Those two times are covered by my other friend Devyn, a pure-blood. She also helps keep her safe, not letting her go anywhere by herself. The two times are because she's in two different classes than I am. One of them being a study hall.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

"Professor, how will this class help us now? Reading teacups for predictions should be the least of our worries right now," a student at the back of the room exclaims.

"The said predictions could lead us to the future before it happens. Our worries lay exactly what will happen in the future. If anything, this is one of the most important classes we'll take this year," I say, continuing to read the teacup.

"Precisely, thank you. Now go back to studying, I'll be coming around to view your interpretations."

My tea leaves look more like a blob with a cross going through them. A weirdly shaped blob. I already know there is a cross, but what about the blob? I tried shaking it a little, looking at the leaves from different angles. I already crossed off a club, falcon, and the sun. It could be an acorn, but I see a slight hole in the blob.

Could it be...

"A skull that is." I jump at the sudden voice near my ear. My teacup almost falling from my grasp.

"Pardon, a what?"

She points towards two holes in the blob, one of them I just mentioned, "I saw you already found one hole, there's the other. How it's shaped could be a little difficult to see since the cross is through it, but it's there."

The professor takes the cup from my hand and lays it on her desk. Some of my classmates look at me in curiosity, but they soon lose interest and go back to their own tea leaves.

A cross and a skull, that sounds about right to how my school year is going so far. I scan my book to see exactly what they mean.

A skull, danger in your path.

A cross, trials and suffering.

"What d-did you find?" A Hufflepuff boy to my right asks.

I don't want to scare the poor boy, he's already frightened enough as it is. If my future got around to the school, everyone would start being concerned about me. I'll barely get any of my duties done if I didn't already get it taken away for my safety. Last thing I need right now is even more panic.

"Nothing much, the future is still a little foggy."

"That's, um, good. I couldn't really read mine either," he chuckles lightly, almost seemingly forced.

Our professor claps her hands together, "Class is dismissed, read up about your predictions if you haven't already. No homework today."

I gather my books and push in my chair. Right before I could reach the door where other students are waiting, the teacher stops me.

"I'll have to tell the headmaster about this, I shouldn't keep it a secret."

"No, please don't. If you must, only tell Albus. I can't have this messing anything up, I'll become vulnerable."

The professor looks around the room, her eyes wandering franticly. I'm sure I am asking a lot from her. I really need her to keep this a secret.

"Oh alright, you're my best student. I just would hate to see anything happen to you. I'm informing only Albus to see if he can keep an eye on you."

"Thank you so much, I swear I'll be careful." A huge weight is lifted off my shoulders. I can't be worrying about my future when I have to worry about everyone else's.

I leave the classroom and start heading to my next class. Potions have always been one of my favorite classes. Mixing a bunch of toxins into a pot is a specialty of mine. I'm quickly scanning the halls for any wanderers, making sure everyone is at class. My feet take me to Potions in a hurry. I don't want to miss much, trying to make the class as informational as possible.

"You shouldn't be running, you still have 3 minutes of checking the school."

It's always him, I even tried changing routes to avoid him. His idiotic smirk, thinking he actually did something. All he did is waste my time and train of thought.

"I'm allowed to run Riddle, it's not a rule. I already checked the halls I was assigned, did you?" I really have no energy for this.

Tom peers down at me, somehow still wearing that infamous smile. Eyes bright, filled with mischief and knowledge.

"I have, double-checked as well. I'm sure you only checked once. Such irresponsible actions, I still wonder how you nabbed the head-girl spot."

I choose not to answer, not giving in to his baiting. Does he think I'm that stupid? That easily bothered by a simple test of my patience.

"You could have just said you wanted to walk me to class Riddle. No need to be shy with me."

"Shy, a concept I would not know of. Might as well bring you to class, since I'm heading there myself. Wouldn't want you to be in danger, since you consistently prove you can't handle a simple check of the hallways."

"I told you Tom-"

"Once is not enough, you should know that by now," he interrupts me, feigning a sudden serious facade on.

We start heading towards Slughorn's room. I'm a little behind his figure. Mostly looking down to make sure I don't step over his feet and fall. He sometimes walks with me, very confusing if I may say. Hating my skills, probably still hates me. You can often find us arguing if we are ever partners in class together. The usual game we play, how many questions can we get right by the end of class. Last time he won by one point, my sour mood not helping the atmosphere.

"You look rested, more than me at least," I smile tiredly. My whole body slightly sagging forward from exhaustion. He looks as proper as someone could be. His skin is a little pale though, brighter than usual. Almost like he was sick, his eyes look darker too. More sunken in, the shape of his skull more prominent. His looks still annoyingly well presented.

"Yes, you do look rather tired. I see other things have prioritized above your looks."

This man, the audacity of this man. The only reason I'm not at the top of every class. Our number 1 student count being evenly split. I have to bite down on my tongue forcefully to not say anything back. I'm too tired to truly come back with anything witty, so I choose to save myself from the embarrassment. Instead, I slightly step on his robe on the ground causing him to trip up a little.

He quickly sends a warning glare my way and then continues walking. I smile slightly, knowing even if it was petty, it was worth it.

Riddle doesn't even hold the door for me when we walk in. Causing it to slam dangerously close to my face.

"There you two are, I was afraid you weren't going to make it," Slughorn exclaims excitedly. "Turn your textbooks to page 246, we are going to learn how to make a Polyjuice potion!"

I glance at Tom, his eyes only focus on the words before him not realizing my gaze is on him. I wonder if he'll make this a competition as well. Knowing him, as well as me, anything but competition is out of our character. He looks up catching my eyes, I tilt my head. Trying to silently communicate from afar.

His head turns to Slughorn, then back to me. He nods his head and that's all it takes for both of us to come to an understanding. Whoever can answer the most questions, and create the best potion gets bragging rights.

I don't intend to lose.

#tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #lord voldemort #hogwarts #wizard #post wizarding war #enemies to allies #enemies to lovers #angst #oc #poc #Oc is any race #horcrux #moldy voldy

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th0tfairy · 3 years ago

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Ok, how about Dabi and y/n knowing each other and being neutral. The he finds their diary and it’s full of cheesy fantasies with him.

Aww cute!!!

💙😇💙

When Hawks comes over your locker, it’s usually with Mirko, but today it’s Dabi. When you offer a smile in greeting all you get in return is a curt nod. Hawks gets his hug, and plays with your hair and Dabi just snickers beside him. He’s laughing at how badly Hawks is striking out with you.

It isn’t that Hawks even likes you, he likes everyone. So you never take his flirting too seriously. Still, you like to humor him when he asks if you’ve changed your hair because it looks great, because the praise is nice, but your attention always lingers off to Dabi.

He’s got his lazy blue eyes fixed on your hair. You’ve written too many pages about that exact shade of Todoroki blue.

Now he’s fumbling with the piercings on his nose. You remember wanting to ask him to tell you the stories of his first piercing and how much shit his dad probably flipped, but you honestly aren’t close enough to ask something so personal.

The bell rings, so you grab your chem textbook and close your locker. Hawks offers to walk you, but you don’t want to make him late so you decline. You’re kind of in a rush to copy your lab partners homework before class starts anyway.

💘📘💘

Dabi blinks down at the flimsy pink notebook that falls from the girl Hawks was trying to chat up. He has half the mind to call out and tell her she dropped it, but he kinda forgot her name.

Hawks watches her walk away before sighing and marching off to class. “Later.”

“Bye.” He says, bending down to retrieve the book. It’s got a holographic blue cover with post it notes coming out of each page. It kinda reminds him of Fuyumi’s old diaries, but he doubts it could be anything that corny. Y/n didn’t seem like the type to do some sappy shit like that.

Then he opens up to the first page and sees his name, his first name written on it in curly cursive.

Touya Todoroki & Mrs. Touya Todoroki

Honestly, he feels like a bit of a creep for snooping, but this is kiiiinda his business so he skims along. He vaguely registers the second bell ringing before he walks himself to the stairs. He usually skips in the gym but he doesn’t feel like listening to sneakers squeaking so he goes to the library.

He finds his mouth quirking up at a few diary entrees, namely what y/n thinks they should name their children. Obi for a boy, and Madoka for a girl. He likes those names, it’s just weird to think she wants to start a family with him. He’s honestly never even thought of her like that.

He skips along to an entire page dedicated to his eyes and how she wishes she could swim in them for days and not get tired. It’s really embarrassing but he’s still grinning and eating it up. It’s kinda flattering honestly.

Today, Dabi beat Hawks up for saying Fuyumi was cute. Honestly, I think they’d be a cute couple!! Hawks and Fuyumi and me and Dabi as a double date!!

All of this is written in blue ink. And while the idea of going on a double date with your sister and HAWKS disgusts him, he’s suddenly warming up to the idea of seeing you after school. He just wants to know if this is genuine or if you’re fucking with him. He can’t believe anyone actually finds him good looking. Not enough to dedicate an entire fucking diary to him.

He flips back and forth from the pages and little doodles and notes she’d left. This is so... adorable. He kinda wants to leave a little note in here for her, all the way on the last page.

The lunch bell rings so he scribbles his number with a pencil he found on the floor and finds Mirko and Shiggy at their table. Mirko stole Shiggy’s lunch money and pats her thigh. “If you’re so hungry, you could eat me.”

Fuyumi walks over with Hawks and hands her brother his lunch. Dabi takes the soda and gives the rest to Shiggy. He doesn’t like the lunch his sister packs for him.

You walk in a minute later, chewing your lip. She looks nervous about something. Dabi sips his drink and stares her down.

“Touya,” Fuyumi sighs, “eat your fruit at least.”

Mirko grabs the bunch of grapes in his lunchbox and throws one at his eye. “You heard her, Touya.”

“It’s Dabi,” he mutters, still staring at you. You look away and clear your throat. In the middle of chem, you noticed your diary was missing and started freaking out.

You can’t imagine what would happen if someone read it. Mirko would never let you hear the end of it, Fuyumi would stop talking to you for wanting to date her brother, and Dabi would never want anything to do with you. You’d die of humiliation and probably still be embarrassed after your soul passed on.

Hawks looks over at you, “wanna skip and get wings?”

You don’t have much of an appetite. But you agree because you don’t want to be around Dabi. To your dismay, he gets off his seat and accompanies you. “I want wings,” he says.

Fuyumi shakes her head and goes back to her conversation with shigaraki.

“Hey, y/n,” Dabi says and you think this is the first time he’s said your name ever.

“Yeah?”

He smiles with all his teeth and hands you your blue diary. “I think you dropped something, Mrs. Touya Todoroki.”

🔹💘🔹

#orenjineki #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi fluff #bnha imagines #ask prompt!#Dabi imagines

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kiraakirana · 4 years ago

Text

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩'𝙨 𝙚𝙮𝙚 | h. kakashi

─────────────────────♡──────────────────────

Tonight, a firework display will be held to celebrate Lady Tsunade's inauguration as the 5th Hokage. After going through vulnerable and unstable days after Orochimaru's attack and the 3rd Hokage's death, the villagers of Konoha finally come together to witness a new beginning under a new leader. A new light finally emerged from the brim of sadness, once again giving everyone hope towards a bright future for Konoha.

It was the talk of the village for the past few days, everybody was deciding what kimono to wear and who to invite. As you would be working late that night, you agreed to meet up with your friends at the firework display after you're done with everything.

You could hear the distant laughter and cheeriness while you were walking towards the venue. You smiled to yourself, happy that the depressing days after the attack is over and that the villagers are back on their feet. You had a purple kimono on with your hair down and a white flower clipping as an accessory. You were quite in a rush, so you didn't really put that much thought into it.

After talking with your friends for a while, you felt uncomfortable being a 5th wheel as it turned out that they each brought partners. Excusing yourself, you searched through the crowd for a certain shinobi with a distinct white hair. You weren't sure if he attended or not as he's not that much of a people person. But you were relieved when you saw him near one of the food stands with none other than Guy-sensei.

"Hi," you said as you gently tapped his shoulder. He was wearing a blue kimono with his mask, as always, still on.

"Hey," he replied as he put down his Icha-Icha tactics. "Eh? didn't see you earlier."

"Yeah, I just arrived a few minutes ago, had to work late for an impor- shit," you said abruptly. Panicking, you hastily went behind Kakashi's back to hide yourself when you saw the two guys who asked you out yesterday.

"What happened?"

"I'll explain to you later, help me hide please," you said quietly. Seeing how pathetic your hiding strategy is, Kakashi pushed you softly into an empty alley nearby and positioned himself dangerously close to you. He put his right hand on the wall next to you as an attempt to hide your face from whoever you were trying to hide from. Although it was considerably effective, it wasn't good for your heart, afraid Kakashi could hear its loud beating. Leaning close he said, "This way people wouldn't even try to approach."

You could only nod, looking down to gather your thoughts as you felt your cheeks heating up. Damn this copy ninja! Does he realize the things he could do to you? You have the hots for him and has been desperately trying to keep it oblivious, but right now, you weren't sure if you could keep your feelings in check from how close you two were.

"Well, if this isn't convenient," you muttered under your breath. Not wanting to waste this chance by looking away, you looked up to see Kakashi giving you a smile. "Well, if you don't tell me who you're hiding from, we would stay like this until tomorrow morning," he added, "Not that I have any problems with that."

Embarrassed, you pushed Kakashi and stomped away, "They're gone already." You then looked back at him who looked nonchalant about the entire thing, much like his usual self, walking behind you. To you, it seemed like he was acting indifferent, but you failed to notice that Kakashi was a nervous wreck. Even when his fingertips would brush your skin subtly, it would send shivers down his body. He was giving it his all to hold himself back and not get caught up in the moment.

How could he not? You were a famous kunoichi known for your intelligence and beauty. Despite being younger than him by a few years, he admired your maturity and tendency to remain cool-headed at all times. It's not rare that he overhears his comrades complimenting you. You were a truly skilled and hardworking shinobi who earned everybody's respect.

"Thanks," you said quickly.

"Couldn't hear you," he teased.

"I hate you," you replied while turning away. Kakashi was your senior in ANBU and because of your great chemistry and teamwork, you two were often sent together on missions, therefore explaining your close relationship. He was always there to give you advice and comfort you whenever you felt homesick during long missions.

It wasn't until Kakashi was discharged from ANBU that you felt his great impact on your life. You were in denial for quite some time, until you came to the conclusion that the reason you were constantly worrying and missing him was not because you were simply his friend, no. It was a feeling much stronger than that.

"Is this the thank you I get for saving you?"

You swiftly grabbed his hand and took him to the rooftop across the one where Guy and his team were sitting. This was the best place to see the fireworks and it also meant less chance to encounter the two guys you saw before.

"I saw the two guys that asked me out, they also asked me to go to the firework display with them."

"And you rejected them?"

"Yeah, I said I couldn't go tonight," she shrugged, "I mean, I'd rather go with someone else."

"Then why aren't you with this guy right now?"

That question caught you off guard. "Well, he's definitely here right now," you said awkwardly, "But I wasn't brave enough to ask him to go with me. Besides, I wasn't sure if watching firework is his thing," you said, letting out a laugh. Knowing him, you were sure he'd rather stay at home to read his books. You made a mental note to thank Guy for dragging him here.

"Oh."

"You're not going to press me further about who that person is?"

"No," he shrugged.

"You’re no fun," you said jokingly, although it was an attempt to persuade him to ask you more questions.

He laughed and said, "Okay then, who's the lucky guy?"

"Well there's no fun in it if you directly ask me who he is, you have to guess."

"Then, what's this person like?"

"Um, let me think," you said as you carefully thought about him, "He may seem very nonchalant at first, but deep down he's someone who cares a lot for his comrades."

"Hm, that wouldn't narrow the options by a lot. How does he look like?"

"He has a distinct hair, tall..."

"Why do you like him?"

"I feel safest around him. He's a truly wonderful person, I wish I had the guts to tell him that. I feel like he doubts himself a lot. He needs to know that a lot of people are grateful for him, including me. I've never liked anyone else the same way I like him."

"As your senior, I say you should just straight-up tell him about how you feel,” he gave you a smile and a thumbs-up to encourage you.

“Ah, so she has a special someone. I mean, it’s no surprise right? Someone like her couldn’t possibly be single forever. I guess I was too late, huh?” thought Kakashi.

"Well, I don't know if he feels the same way..." you said, shifting awkwardly in your seat.

"But there's no telling unless you tell him right?"

"Yeah, I guess...”

To hell with pride.

"I like you, Kakashi."

"Wait, I mean you should tell him that, not me."

"Huh? This whole time I was talking about you, damn it."

"Uh? So you?" he looked at you, surprised. You didn't know what made him so surprised though, wasn't that obvious hints? Who else has distinct hair in Konoha? Okay, aside from Guy and a few other people... Yeah, maybe you should've just said 'white hair' but it would be like giving it away.

"Yeah, whatever you're trying to say. If you're going to reject me, at least wait until the firework's over so you don't ruin it."

It was silent for a while and all you wanted to do was throw yourself to the river. Just kidding. You should've stayed home. But then again, there's no better time than right now. It’s either now or never. You had to get the weight off your chest and you’ve prepared for the worst possible outcome for years. "You know what, I'm sorry. I know it's ridiculous for me to like you when you have so many other-"

"I like you too, Y/N."

"Girls fawning over-" you froze for a moment and looked at him in disbelief, "Wait, did you just?"

"Come," he said as he stood up and gave her his hand, "I know a place where you can see the fireworks much better." It was one of your favorite Kakashi smiles, the one where you couldn't see his eyes. Despite not being able to see the rest of his face, this was enough to put the butterflies in her stomach.

It was a place near the river, far from the busy crowd. The water moves calmly and the fireworks could be seen clearly. "You know, I was serious when I said those things. I really see you as a wonderful person."

"Yeah, I know. I'm a very lucky guy."

"But don't get too full of yourself," you said jokingly, landing a weak punch on his arm.

You looked at Kakashi, who was laughing wholeheartedly, in awe. This was truly a sight to remember. Feeling entirely grateful, you gave him a shy hug, hiding your face on his kimono. Y/N who was usually a confident, collected person, became a mess whenever he's around. Only he’s able to do that.

Kakashi ran his fingers through your hair soothingly and rested his head on top of yours. Despite the loud cracks of the fireworks, you could subtly hear Kakashi's soft voice saying, "Thank you, Y/N."

A/N: this is inspired after seeing Kakashi on episode 306 of Shippuden called ‘The Heart’s Eye’. It was so cute seeing Kakashi in a kimono, I just want to give him the biggest hug:(

#kakashi #kakashi hakate #kakashi x y/n #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi headcanons #kakashi hc #kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #Naruto Shippuden #naruto #kakashi scenario #kakashi imagines

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panda-noosh · 4 years ago

Text

draco doesn’t remember how or why he fell in love with you.

it wasn’t supposed to happen. not at all. his entire life, he has been prepared for an arranged marriage, something examined by his father, picked apart and carefully chosen to ensure the malfoy line is carried on only by the best, most pure wizards the world has ever seen. from a young age, draco was prepared to put up with whoever his parents decided was good enough for him.

but he grew up.

he grew up, and he went to school, and life became his own. without his parents swarming his every move, he was free to do whatever he wanted, like whoever he wanted, and that was very dangerous ground for a boy as curious as him. never wanting to disappoint his parents, but wanting that freedom, too - it was never going to work in his favour.

you came to hogwarts during his third year, a third year yourself having just transferred from another wizarding school in britain. a smaller wizarding school, and draco remembers walking through the halls, listening to people snicker about how far behind you were, how little you knew. he didn’t even know who you were at that time, as he was yet to have any classes with you, but he was prepared to experience the same amusement as the rest of his classmates upon initial meeting.

“snape had a field day with them,” said pansy, over a bowl of porridge at breakfast one day. “absolutely shocking how little they taught them at that old school they’ve come from.”

draco snickered. “what did snape do?”

“he was about to kick them out,” replied blaise. “honestly, draco, just wait till you see them. it’s hilarious.”

and so, draco prepared himself the entire day for the moment he would finally get to witness the reason behind his friends amusement for himself. classes ticked by in a blur, him scribbling down notes carelessly, knowing full well he would have to copy off his friends later on; for today, he didn’t care. he just wanted to get to astrology, the one class he knew he had with you.

when the bell rang for final class, draco all-but sprinted to the astrology tower. throwing open the door, his grin widened, his excitement spilling over, a snide remark already forming on his smirking lips-

a snide remark that died the instant he saw you seated upon one of the pillows strewn across the floor.

because you are everything he didn’t expect. you are nothing like the image he had conjured in his head, the image of stupidity, a dopey face and a clueless gait, someone he could make fun of without feeling terribly sorry about it.

but you’re not that at all. you’re small, and not in the sense that you’re particularly short. you’re short in the sense that overwhelms draco with the sudden need to protect you from everything and everyone. you’re small in the sense that you clearly understand you have been the butt of the joke since you arrived at hogwarts, and the comments aren’t exactly helping you get comfortable.

his falter didn’t last long. people started bustling into the classroom, forcing him to his seat even as his eyes never left you. you hadn’t even looked up, too busy staring at the hands in your lap, the hands that hadn’t stopped twisting and twitching the entire time. you wore a set of rings - one on each finger - and usually this fashion choice would have been a bit over the top in draco’s opinion, but the rings glistened on your fingers, complimented each and every one, even as you pulled them off and replaced them in that nervous way he found himself so entranced with.

you were seated on a pillow directly in front of the window, and even though the classroom was fairly dark - easier for trelawney to teach the planets in the dark - there was a soft glow spread across your cheeks, illuminating your cheekbones, making your eyes glisten every time you looked up. it left his heart thumping, a feeling most uncomfortable when he had never felt it before.

but from that day on, his heart thumped every time he saw you. his hands got clammy. his throat became dry, and he often found himself shamelessly leaning against a locker, or saying something witty in the hopes you would like his voice, stop and talk to him, compliment him on his oh-so original humour.

his friends started to catch on, but by the second week, draco was past the point of caring. no longer did he try to hide his affection for you, an affection that didn’t even make sense, because you had never even given him the time of day. you walked past him with your head ducked down. you didn’t speak to him in class. you got on with your life all on your own, and honestly, that was part of the reason draco was so enamoured by you.

one of the many, many reasons.

after two weeks, his resolve was starting to disappear. he couldn’t just ignore you. he couldn’t keep himself contained for much longer, a desire he had never felt before springing to the forefront of his very being. he’s always been so content with his friend group, but he wanted to speak to you, wanted to hear your voice just the once.

and so he found you in the library on that fateful tuesday afternoon. he had no classes, astrology having been cancelled as trelawney claimed the spirits were telling her it was a bad day to come to work. draco usually took his free periods as a chance to go out and practise some quidditch moves, but this day he needed to make an exception. the team could make do without a seeker for a little while.

he pushed into the library, offering the librarian a keen smile and a nod; she merely scowled, but she does that to everyone, so draco didn’t think too much into it. his brain was elsewhere, anyway.

he flew through the library, ducking his head into the shelves in search of you. in minutes he found you, curled up in an arm chair by the fire, a thick leather bound book on your lap. as per usual, you didn’t even look up when draco approached, eyes glued to the novel, finger tracing the words in an attempt to stop the cramped, tiny sentences from getting jumbled up.

he cleared his throat. your head flinched up.

you stared at him a moment, thumb placed upon your bottom lip. it was endearing in the worst way, making something stir in draco’s stomach.

he cleared his throat again and said, “hello,” because he’s always been fairly certain that was the best way to start a conversation.

you blinked. “hello.”

“draco malfoy.”

you nodded. “i know.”

his heart thundered. he was certain you could hear it, could probably see the sweat dotting his brow, too. “oh. great.” he rubbed the back of his neck. “what’s your name?”

“y/n l/n,” you replied. “is everything okay? you look a little ill, if you don’t mind me saying.”

he didn’t. he didn’t mind at all.

“everything’s fine,” he said, before gesturing to the empty seat to your left. “do you mind if i sit?”

“be my guest.”

he sat down. “you don’t mind the company?”

“i like meeting new people.” you looked down, biting your lower lip. draco was overcome with the sudden desire to reach over and grab your hand. “i haven’t got many friends around here, you know. it’s nice to finally speak to someone.”

draco’s chest tightened. he remembered the comments, the snickers, his initial plans to make fun of you just like everyone else had been doing.

but then he remembered your face in trelawney’s classroom, the faux light dancing across your cheekbones, that twinkling laugh you let out when trelawney got one of her predictions wrong and was gravely embarrassed about it.

“but that’s not important,” you piped up when draco failed to pull himself together in time to respond. “how have you been finding everything? i know you’re on the quidditch team - what’s that like?”

and so the conversation bloomed, draco loosening up with every passing moment, every phrase where he could fit in a question. he learned more and more about you, tiny facts that would usually hold no weight whatsoever, but facts he suddenly cherished - your favourite colour, where you’re from, the names of your parents, a pair of muggles who raised you to believe you were normal until your powers started to show.

at some point, you said, “i know the malfoys aren’t big fans of wizards who aren’t pure bloods.”

draco’s face warmed. “yeah, well...”

“are you going to get in trouble for talking to me?”

“probably.” he leaned back, crossing his leg across his own knee. “i don’t care, though. they’re not here right now, are they?”

so no, draco does not know the exact moment he fell in love with you. he doesn’t know how, or why, or when, but he knows it happened. at some point during this strange, spontaneous relationship, he fell in love with you, and has been unable to shake himself out of it.

it might be because you’re beautiful. it might go deeper than that. it might be because he’s never felt so comfortable with anyone in his entire life. it might be because, for the first time ever, he doesn’t care what his parents think. for the first time ever, he is more than willing to make his own decisions, to go against everything he has ever been told just to sit with you for one more day, one more minute, one more second.

and it’s not like these feelings crashed upon him all at once. it was gradual, an almost painful experience, an extraction of his sourness, replaced by this. . . fondness? this love. this love for a person so different to him, a person so unexpected, a person that shouldn’t fit so well into his life, but does so.

#harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fic #draco fanfic #draco fanfiction #draco #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter x reader

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ibijau · 3 years ago

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Futures Past pt13 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang is visited again by his future self, which goes even less pleasantly than before

Nie Huaisang did not enjoy in the least being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, a hand firmly pressed over his mouth to keep him quiet and avoid waking the other Nie disciples.

His future self really needed to find a better way to visit him. They had to decide on a schedule of some sort, Nie Huaisang ranted when they were outside, hidden away near the cabin he currently inhabited. Or a signal. Or something other than the absolute terror of a stranger taking him out of his bed in the dark.

“Couldn’t you at least have told me when you were planning on coming back?” Nie Huaisang complained, to which his future self shrugged.

“I was supposed to, but I forgot,” the older man muttered from being his fan. “Not that I would have kept to the schedule anyway. I had to know how your time in Yunping City went, so I… pushed hard to come here as early as I could. I probably won’t be able to return again until late fall, or even the bew year.”

He did look tired, and had a slight trembling in his hands, Nie Huaisang noted. Though that could just have been excitement rather than a sign something was wrong with him.

“It went well in Yunping City, I think,” Nie Huaisang announced. “I don’t think that Meng Yao will be going to Lanling Jin now, not if he has even a little bit of brain, and…”

“He’s more stupid than you’d expect,” his older self snapped. “I take it he’s still alive then?”

Nie Huaisang hunched his shoulders and looked down at his feet.

“It’s not like I could actually have killed him! And anyway, he’s nice. Well, I thought he was nice…” The older Nie Huaisang scoffed. “And Lan gongzi thought it too…” Another scoff, and when Nie Huaisang risked a glance, he was met with an expression of disgust. “And Jiang gongzi too had a good opinion of him!”

“You saw Jiang Cheng?” his older self asked, lowering his fan while something shifted in his voice. “How was he? Was Wei Wuxian there too?”

He sounded almost eager to get news, as if he cared about these people.

He sounded almost human.

“I don’t think that other one was there,” Nie Huaisang said, trying to remember. He'd been so nervous about that Meng Yao business, he hadn't paid attention to anything else. “And Jiang gongzi mostly seemed interested in chatting with Lan gongzi. They were getting along just fine. I think they’re writing to each other now? I think Lan gongzi mentioned that the other day.”

Whatever softness had briefly taken over his older self melted in a second, replaced by something dark.

“That’s new,” he said, closing his fan with a flourish before tapping it against his hand. “I knew they would have met briefly in Yunping City, but to my knowledge they didn’t speak at all. We’ll have to be careful. I don’t like the idea of Jiang Cheng siding with that idiot." He sighed. “We’ll see what comes of it in the future. For now, tell me what you’ve done with Meng Yao, since you’re apparently too much of a coward to properly get rid of the man who killed da-ge.”

Nie Huaisang felt breathless at that casual mention of Meng Yao’s true role in his brother’s future death. His older self had said that Meng Yao was involved, that he needed to be dealt with, but Nie Huaisang hadn’t thought…

How could someone like Meng Yao ever kill his brother? Even if he worked day and night, even if he tried as hard as he could, Meng Yao would take years and years to catch up to even a normal cultivator’s level. He would never compare to Nie Mingjue who everyone agreed was a cultivation genius, a force of nature. In a direct confrontation, Meng Yao could never win.

It would have been something more insidious then, Nie Huaisang thought. Poison, or backstabbing, or some other under-handed thing. And since Lan Xichen had appeared so instantly fond of that Meng Yao, since his future self hated him too, maybe he’d accidentally given him the means of coming close to Nie Mingjue. That would certainly explain why that older Nie Huaisang despised both men so intensely.

A little shaken by that theory, Nie Huaisang started recounting what had happened in Yunping City. Or at least, he explained most of it. He was so embarrassed about failing to find the right brothel that he didn’t speak about that, meaning he also didn’t say anything about meeting Lan Xichen in the red district, and that complete breakdown the poor boy had. And while he proudly explained that Meng Yao was now part of Yunmeng Jiang where he appeared to be doing very well according to letters Lan Xichen had received, Nie Huaisang didn’t mention that to obtain that result he’d insulted a sect leader and gotten harshly punished for it. He didn’t think his older self would show much sympathy for his suffering.

Really, talking to that man was like talking to Nie Mingjue when he asked about his brother’s cultivation progress. Except at least Nie Mingjue was only like that some of the time, when the elders had pestered him about Nie Huaisang’s lack of talent for anything one time too many. His older self felt as if he was this way all the time.

“I suppose Yunmeng will have to do,” the older Nie Huaisang sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Jiangs certainly aren’t going to give him a recommendation to join Lanling Jin. Anything is better than Lanling or Qinghe at this point.”

Nie Huaisang pinched his lips, quite glad he hadn’t mentioned his initial plan of bringing Meng Yao to Qinghe. It had been a stupid plan, he now realised. But he hadn’t known that Meng Yao would be his brother’s actual murderer, and his future self hadn’t said anything, and…

“Now that Meng Yao is dealt with, let’s talk about what you have to do next,” the older Nie Huaisang said.

“About… about S-Su She?” Nie Huaisang quickly asked, trying to sound as indifferent as he could.

His older self opened his fan with an elegant gesture that Nie Huaisang was starting to hate, and shook his head with a cruel smirk.

“No. I’ve given this some thought,” the older man explained, fanning himself slowly. “I’ve reached the conclusion that I don’t care much whether Jin Zixun and him kill each other. Good riddance, neither of them are worth even the dirt used to bury them. These two are just…”

“He’s my friend,” Nie Huaisang squeaked. By which he meant Su She of course, but also…

Jin Zixun and him had exchanged a few glances here and there during particularly boring lessons, and they’d chatted a little when they’d been punished again together, this time over a failed assignment. Jin Zixun wasn’t a friend, but he might have become an acquaintance, and that was probably more than anyone could say about Jin Zixun.

His older self closed his fan with a sharp gesture and glared at him.

“He’s not.”

“But he is!” Nie Huaisang insisted. “I met Su-xiong a while ago, and he’s real nice, and we get along fine, and he even…”

“A man like Su She doesn’t have friends. He’s only using you to get something. What did he make you promise? Support? Help? Money?”

“He’s not like that!” Nie Huaisang cried out, letting his voice rise higher than was truly wise at such an hour of the night.

But he couldn’t let Su She be insulted that way. Maybe it was different where his future self came from, maybe Su She and him hadn’t met over there, but they had met here, and they were true friends.

Su She had amply apologised about not coming to see Nie Huaisang that whole week he’d been punished for his fight with Jin Zixun. He had cited his own punishment, as well as Lan Xichen enrolling him in his book-copying scheme. Both were valid reasons, but Su She still appeared very sorry that he’d let Nie Huaisang deal with that on his own, and shared some candies with him as a way of apology.

Su She was the best friend Nie Huaisang had ever had in his life, and he refused to hear anyone insult him, even himself.

“Su She is no friend of yours,” his older self claimed. “Stop whatever acquaintance you have with him right away. Da-ge wouldn’t approve, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re at the point of my life where I’m a little idiot who cannot do anything right. If you’re making a decision, it’s always going to be the wrong one, and it will anger Da-ge. So drop Su She immediately.”

"Da-ge isn't like that," Nie Huaisang grumbled.

"I've known him longer than you," his future self retorted. "I know what he thinks of me."

Which might have been true, but it still felt wrong. Nie Huaisang and his brother had their disagreements, of course. Many of them, in fact. They argued over just about anything, but rarely seriously, or about anything really important, and they always made up quickly. Sure, some people misunderstood their relationship and thought they didn't get along. Some had even tried to take advantage of that perceived rift between them, but both brothers knew where they stood.

Nie Huaisang knew his brother would like Su She when he met him. In fact, Nie Mingjue had already promised he could invite his new friend to come to the Unclean Realm, provided he passed his exams.

Maybe it had been too long since his future self had last seen Nie Mingjue, if he could only remember their few disputes and none of the affection.

"The only person you're supposed to pay attention this year to is Lan Xichen," his older self reminded him. "So how are things going on that front? I swear if there's still no progress…"

"No, there is!" Nie Huaisang said, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. "A lot of progress! We spend at least a shichen together every week lately, sometimes more!"

"That's a very precise amount," his older self noted. "How do you know it is that much?"

"Well, see, he gives me music lessons. He says I'm quite good at it actually," Nie Huaisang added with pride.

That pride was met with a dark, angry look. Or perhaps not angry as such, Nie Huaisang thought after a moment. Maybe envious instead. Considering the opinion his future self had of Lan Xichen, it was impossible he'd ever been given those lessons, or surely he wouldn't have hated Lan Xichen so much. And since they were the same person, or at least had been the same person before his future self grew up into an asshole, then they had to have the same tastes, the same aspirations.

"What instrument ?"

"The guqin, of course. You know, I always figured it'd be really hard, but I'm liking it a lot, and it's really fun to practice a little every day, and Lan Xichen is a really nice teacher, and he's actually fun, and…"

"He's not," his future self cut him. "And while I'm glad you're finally remembering the part you have to play in our plan, I don't want you to get distracted. Music isn't your goal. Neither is it to actually befriend Lan Xichen. You only need to make him think you're his friend, getting attached as well would be a mistake."

"But…"

"In fact," his older self continued, slowly fanning himself, "it would be best if you gave up already on the idea of having friends. It's not for the likes of us. If you were a little more charismatic and likeable perhaps… but in the end, none of the 'friends' I made at your age were there for me when I needed them. I had to trick them into helping when the time came to avenge da-ge, or they would have let his murderers live free."

"Well maybe if you weren't such a prick they'd still be yours friends," Nie Huaisang muttered, which earned him a slap.

It didn't immediately register that he'd been hit. He just stood there, staring at his older self, vaguely aware of a noise too loud in the quiet night of the Cloud Recesses, and a rising sensation of heat on his cheek.

"I can't believe nobody has ever done that, with how annoying I am," his future self remarked, shaking his hand as if the blow had hurt him too. "Now listen to me. You are not likeable. You are not charismatic. You're not even particularly clever most of the time. Why would anyone want to be friends with you? At best they're tolerating you because it's impossible to just reject the heir of a great sect, but make no mistake, your only quality is Nie Mingjue. In terms of popularity, you rank about as high as someone like Jin Zixun. Do you understand what it means?"

Nie Huaisang failed to contain a few tears as he brought one hand to his smarting cheek. It felt hot to the touch, and he'd have to expend some spiritual energy into it, or else there might be a mark in the morning that would be difficult to explain.

As for his older self's question, Nie Huaisang shook his head the way he felt might be expected of him.

"It means you have to treat people the way they treat you," his older self said. "Keep your heart closed, and use them for what they're worth. Especially Lan Xichen. Get him to trust you, but don't make the mistake of trusting him back. He is a rather poor friend to those who make that mistake."

Gritting his teeth, Nie Huaisang obediently nodded, fearful of being hit again.

But it didn't sound right. He refused to believe that people were as bad as his future self said. Surely Su She at least was better than that. Nie Huaisang could doubt anyone in the world, but not Su She, so he was absolutely not going to dump his friend just because some old creep with trust issues told him to. Not even if the old creep was himself.

As for Lan Xichen… not so long ago, Nie Huaisang might have accepted that unkind assessment of his brother’s friend. But now that they hung out together more frequently, he thought Lan Xichen wasn’t so bad. Their music lessons really were nice. Lan Xichen was patient and encouraging, something few teachers in Nie Huaisang’s life had ever been. He didn’t mind when Nie Huaisang got too tired to focus, or when he struggled with something that should have been easy. He also didn’t take Nie Huaisang’s moments of easy success as proof that he was faking whenever he struggled, and for this alone Lan Xichen had Nie Huaisang’s gratitude.

Not only that, but Lan Xichen had proven that he wasn’t as stiff and boring as Nie Huaisang used to think. He’d listened about the problems that Su She had, hadn’t he? And not just listened, but he’d done something about it, and he was still doing something about it, and not only for Su She’s sake either.

Su She had told Nie Huaisang that any inner clan disciple who bothered an outer disciple was in serious trouble these days if Lan Xichen heard about it… or worse still, if Lan Wangji got involved. He was a stickler for rules that one. Once his brother had casually mentioned to him that some people were breaking Lan principles behind the teachers’ back, Lan Wangji hunted them down and made sure those people regretted it.

All because Nie Huaisang had told Lan Xichen that he didn’t like how people treated his friend.

How could Nie Huaisang not have started liking him a little after that?

“Speaking of making friends,” his future self said, “you remember you need to fail your classes this year, right? We have big plans for next year.”

Nie Huaisang nodded again, with more sincerity this time. Failing his exams would not be difficult. At all. In fact, he was quite good at failing. Lan Qiren could have testified that when it came to failing, he’d never had a student as great as Nie Huaisang.

“Good, excellent. Now, I don’t have much time left here today but… I have a task for you when the classes end.”

“Another thing?” Nie Huaisang lamented. “That wasn’t the deal!”

“It is for da-ge’s good,” his future self snapped, and once again Nie Huaisang wondered if he really loved his brother enough to bother with all this.

He did love Nie Mingjue, no doubt. But he still wondered.

“In fact, it’s for the good of the whole cultivation world,” his future self continued. “This might be the most selfless thing you’re ever going to do, so don’t mess it up. When the classes end, you’re not going home. You’re going to the city of Kuizhou…”

“Really? Oh, that’d be neat. I’ve always wanted to see…”

“You’re not going there to sightsee and think about poetry,” his older self cut him. “You’re going there to find a young criminal by the name of Xue Yang and ensure he never gets to create trouble for the cultivation world. You’ve disappointed me with Meng Yao, but I think you should manage to do the right thing with Xue Yang. He’s only ten or eleven, and you have a sabre, surely it can’t be too hard to dispose of him.”

“You don’t mean…”

The older man closed his fan, his face devoid of emotion. “I would think my meaning is clear enough, but I’m not letting you mess this up as you’ve done with Meng Yao. Xue Yang must die. He grows into too much of a menace as an adult. Even if we're going to make sure his particular skills never become needed by any sect, letting him live is just too risky. He’s devious enough to come up with demonic cultivation all on his own if given the chance to grow up, and he certainly doesn’t have any ideals of justice to help him keep it under control. Kill him before he harms anyone.”

"I'm not a killer!" Nie Huaisang shouted, too loud, far too loud, but he didn’t care, horrified by the very idea of what he his future self was demanding. He felt sorry when fighting fierce corpses and tended to cry at exorcisms, how could he ever… and to a living person, to a child.

And yet his future self rolled his eyes as if his horror were but another minor annoyance to deal with, and started fanning himself again.

"You'll learn fast. Just find a cat, snap its neck, and you'll see how easy it is. After two or three you stop feeling sorry for them, and people aren't so different from cats."

“I don’t think da-ge would want that,” Nie Huaisang protested in a trembling voice. “I don’t think he’d like that at all. It’s just… it’s a kid! Good people don’t kill kids! Even a lot of bad people don’t kill kids!”

“Be quiet, or we’ll be found by whichever Lan disciple is patrolling tonight!”

Good, Nie Huaisang thought. If they were found he’d be punished, sure, but more importantly he’d be forced to tell someone about everything his older self had told him, from the war that was coming, to Nie Mingjue’s death, to killing children. But of course Nie Huaisang couldn’t be so lucky, and no one appeared to have heard him.

“You’re really too naive,” his older self said. “Everyone kills children, they just don’t speak about it and pretend they’re righteous. Even da-ge is no better. I only realised that after the war with the Wens, but it’ll be good for you to grow out of your illusions earlier than that. Besides, you don’t have to tell da-ge that you’ve killed that boy. Keeping secrets is your only real skill, use it.”

“Da-ge isn’t like that,” Nie Huaisang hissed, and felt he’d started crying again.

His brother wasn’t a murderer. He was a good person, he wouldn’t harm anyone who didn’t deserve it… but he might make an exception when it came to the Wens, who nobody in Qinghe Nie really counted as people anymore.

They were just a disease upon the cultivation world, pests that needed to be eliminated. Nie Huaisang, who had always agreed to that, had never really paused before to think that Qishan Wen also counted a number of children, of elders, of servants, of people who really had nothing to do with his father’s death and maybe didn’t even realise there had ever been such a person in the world.

“Da-ge is only human,” his older self said. “And all humans are ready to kill to get what they want. Da-ge wanted to avenge our father. You want to protect da-ge. It’s not so different. If it helps, Xue Yang really deserves to die, so don’t bother feeling sorry for him. He would kill you for candies, given half a chance.”

“I’m not like that,” Nie Huaisang sobbed.

“Not yet perhaps,” his older self conceded in a softer voice. “But you’ll get there anyway. The world is cruel. We must be worse than it is, if we are to survive, if da-ge is to survive.”

The man raised a hand toward Nie Huaisang's head, wanting perhaps to comfort him by ruffling his hair. It was what Nie Mingjue would have done. But Nie Huaisang flinched, fearing to be struck again, and his older self's hand dropped at his side.

“So remember well,” his older self ordered, his tone dry once more. “An orphan boy named Xue Yang, who lives in Kuizhou. He’s a petty criminal for now, he hasn’t yet switched from theft to violent crimes I think, but it’ll come soon. He would be tall for his age I believe. He has a missing little finger on his left hand, and when he smiles his canines are very prominent. He is a monster, and he cannot be allowed to live. Do you understand?”

Through heavy tears Nie Huaisang nodded. That seemed to satisfy his older self who vanished.

Nie Huaisang understood indeed, but he didn’t agree and was certain he never would.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #though this one is really just a double dose of nhs who can't stand himself lol #double time travel #jau writes #mdzs

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