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langdxn · 4 years ago

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OMGGG PLEASE WRITE FOR STAN ✨✨🖤🖤

well if you insist...

off the record | stan bowes x reporter!reader

WARNINGS: pretty graphic smut, fingering, vaginal sex, pet names errywhere, trump mentions, dom!stan

WORDS: 2.9k (excessive but necessary)

A/N: 110% not proofread yet so apologies for any errors which i’ll fix tomorrow.

The hustle and bustle of 5th Avenue spared Stan the embarrassment of leaving a torturous meeting at work. Tumbling out into the chaos of the New York streets offered him the anonymity he craved after a confrontation with Matt, the ability to blend in amongst the faces that couldn’t recognise him from the next suited, briefcase-toting businessman.

Bursting out of the doors to Trump Towers, Stan dropped his briefcase and rinsed his face with both hands, pressing his fingers to his eyes in a vain attempt to wipe away the day he’d just had. In that moment, no eyes were trained on him, no pressure on his shoulders, no demands of his time.

That is, until a sugary voice broke the crowd’s monotonous buzz.

“Trouble in economic paradise, honey?”

Stan’s hands dropped to his side as he searched for the source of his interruption, eyes intently scanning the street until they fell upon you, leaning against the building’s opulent marble pillars at the entrance.

“Sorta,” he mumbled under his breath, a grimace gently tapering his lips as he gazed down at his shoes. In an attempt to avoid your attentions, he trained his sights on a particularly worn paving slab. His distraction worked right up until your heels clacked toward him and planted right on his slab, the smoke from your cigarette swirling in his peripheral vision — there was no avoiding you, no matter how hard he tried. Stan’s head raised to meet your gaze, his deep brown eyes betraying a sadness and insecurity he may never put into words.

“I hear Mr Trump can be a harsh master,” you goaded your victim into spilling his guts, taking a deep puff of your cigarette before blowing it back to hover over his brown curls like a makeshift halo.

“I... I wouldn’t know, I barely see him,” Stan confessed, grabbing his suitcase and nodded toward the street. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Miss.”

Time for drastic action. The brunette stepped toward the street, ready to dismiss this exchange and continue his day.

“I smoke out here to drive your boss up the wall, you know,” you called after him, booming over the hubbub on 5th Avenue. “Admittedly he doesn’t come out much, but that jerk-off on the 41st floor certainly reads me for dirt every Friday night. What’s his name, Matt Bromley?”

Stan stopped in his tracks.

“Oh, so you know him too?” You pressed, pacing toward him with a staccato clack of your heels.

“He’s my superior, or at least he pretends to be,” Stan turned to face you, that same pained smirk dancing across his cheeks as his voice cracked between sentences. “Be careful around him, yeah? He’s not exactly one of the nice guys.”

“You’re telling me,” you scoffed, taking another swift drag while tipping your head to the side. “Luckily if he laid a finger on me, I’d put it front page of the Post and he’d never work in this overpriced dump again.”

“You’re a reporter?” Stan’s eyebrows quirked, intrigued but nonetheless concerned. Should he even be talking to a reporter like this? Will every word that passes his lips end up on tomorrow’s front page? He shook his head to dismiss any suspicious thoughts, he certainly didn’t have the headspace for that yet.

“For now,” you admitted with a pout and an eye-roll. “Your asshole ‘superior’ tries to rectify that on a regular basis. Keeps telling my boss I’m soliciting outside Trump Tower instead of reporting. Always digging through my personal life and not coming up with so much as an overdue rental VHS. Someday my editor will believe him, but I’m on my last warning as it is.”

“Seriously?” Stan’s smirk grew more sympathetic with the realisation one more life was being wrecked by the man he had the misfortune of sharing a floor with. “That’s pretty crazy.”

“That’s Manhattan, honey,” you smiled warmly at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not doorstepping you, I just happened to be here on a tip-off.”

“A tip-off? What sort of—.”

Stan cut himself off on hearing the approach of a familiar obnoxious voice on a cell phone booming in the golden foyer behind your exchange.

“Shit, that’s Bromley,” Stan panicked, suddenly grasping your arm and leading you away from the door, casting your half-smoked cigarette to the kerb. “Let’s get you outta here.”

“My nameless knight in shining armour,” you chuckled to yourself, somehow instincively following his lead on the street until you merged with the throngs of passers-by. “Where are we going, sweetie?”

“My name’s Stan Bowes, and I have absolutely no idea where we’re going.”

———

“You don’t look like a Stan,” you mused at the businessman seated across the table from you, tapping your chin with a finger as you contemplated alternative monikers. “More like a... Colin? Peter? Yeah, you’re a Peter—.”

“Can we just... rewind here?” Stan interrupted, eyes darting frantically at your surroundings, scanning the faces at the other tables. “D’ya mind explaining to me why we’re in a Five Guys right now?”

“You’ll thank me later, toots,” you quickly dismissed his objection as you swirled your soda cup in your other hand. “You think your psycho friend from the 41st floor’s gonna look for you in a diner? He’ll go straight to the Plaza... or even Indochine. Never a Five Guys. Plus, I needed somewhere I can afford to pay the bill so the Trump Organisation expense account doesn’t feel the burn.”

A wordless nod and raised eyebrow from your company suggested his silent approval, but his hands idly toying with the burger before him betrayed his confidence in your genius escape plan. Folding the lettuce edging out from beneath the bun, tugging at the rings of onion and nervously picking the sesame seeds from the top.

“You never told me what your tip-off was. What were you doing outside my work?” Stan raised his manhandled burger to his mouth, daring to undo all the strategic dismantling he’d just put into action.

“Somebody told the office that the blonde egomaniac at the top of your food chain is planning to run for president.”

Stan nearly choked on his first bite, resisting the temptation to spit it out in shock. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“‘Fraid not.”

“That... that can’t be true, he’s too busy with the plans to buy the Plaza two blocks away.”

“The Plaza?!” Your inquisitive voice changed pitch.

“Yeah, didn’t you know?” Stan screwed up his face. “Wait— you’re not gonna print this, are you?”

“I’m not here to rat you out,” You raised both surrendering hands in the space between you. “See? No notebook, no tape recorder, no agenda. It’s just me and you, baby.”

The brown haired man smiled warmly, visibly releasing the tension in his shoulders, comforted that he wasn’t being examined.

“So if you’re not here for business, why is a beautiful girl like you talking to me? I’m nothing special, I’m just a guy in an overpriced suit.”

Caving into the temptation to look him up and down, your gaze wandered to Stan’s hands, gently trembling as he held his burger.

“Because I like you, Peter,” you grinned at the sound of your company’s new moniker. “You and that suit. But you’re so much more than that suit, you know.”

“Eh, I’m not so sure about that. Matt doesn’t seem to think so either.”

“Screw what Bromley the office bully thinks,” you slammed the table with your palm. “This is about you. The guy who stopped to talk to a girl who looked like she was hustling outside your building, the guy who’s not afraid to sit in a diner with a total stranger to save her from his coworker. Face it, Peter, you’re one of the good guys.”

His lips tapered into a warm smile. “Thank you, miss, for not jumping to conclusions about me.”

“Don’t get me wrong, the pinstripes suit you. They’d look better on my floor, but...”

Stan immediately looked up from his food to your eyes, scanning for any sign of humour or any chance you were just trying to make him feel better.

“Did you just—?”

“I think I did!” You giggled, a hint of disbelief in your own words. “Is that a problem?”

Frozen in the moment, Stan just stared at you for a minute. His next move was exhilaratingly unpredictable, leaving your heart rate thundering in your ears, but something about the shimmer in his eyes suggested you wouldn’t have to worry.

“Peter, what’s wrong, did I—?”

You were cut off by Stan’s lips crashing into yours, lunging over the table and hooking a hand around your neck to draw you in. His kiss deepened with every second, dipping his nose into your cheek and moaning softly into your mouth. As you parted, his ear-to-ear grin beamed back to mirror yours.

“Yuppies don’t kiss like that,” you joked.

“You should see me in the bedroom,” he retorted with a laugh.

“Deal.”

———

Hollywood movies were right about one thing: sex in the throes of passion often starts in the same way — bundling through your lover’s uptown hotel room with your legs wrapped around his waist while he juggles his keycard, both peppering sloppy open-mouthed kisses and showering each other with distracted affection until he drops you onto the satin sheets.

Stan, courteous as ever, gently placed you on the sprawling bed without his lips leaving yours, crawling between your thighs before thinking how to undress himself. With both his hands preoccupied passionately lacing into your hair, you grasped at the hem of your dress to take it off yourself.

“Hold on, princess,” he muttered into your mouth, immediately untangling a hand to trace down your figure and met your attempts to hitch your skirt. “Let me strip you.”

Stan thumbed at the edge of the fabric, savouring the moment before you became so much more than a beautiful stranger to him, before slowly rolling your dress up, passing your neck and whipping it over your head to limit the time before he could kiss you again.

“Peter, are you sure about this?” You queried out of respect while casting aside his evidently expensive belt, tearing his braces from his shoulders and laying waste to his shirt buttons.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he hummed against your lips between hot and ragged breaths. “And my name’s not fucking Peter.”

Stan made light work of yanking your panties down to your knees around him, unhooking them from one leg for quicker access and throwing the bundle of lace across the room, soon followed by your bra. In the blur of clothes flying, you tackled his suit pants down to his knees and slipped his silk boxers to join them. The less you thought about those silk boxers, the better.

With no clothes left between you, Stan pressed his bare chest against yours, his heart racing so fast it could burst out of his rib cage.

A needy groan erupted in his throat as he tore his lips away from yours, journeying to pepper heated kisses down your throat, sucking gently as his lips reached your collarbone and followed south to your breasts. While his tongue expertly swirled around one nipple, his hand travelled to the other and kneaded hungrily, gently rolling the hardening bud between his thumb and forefinger.

Your soft moan as he sucked harder gave him the signal to trail his fingers down your frame, his palm traversing the plane of your hips before he reached your exposed clit, tracing lazy circles around your bundle of nerves. Your back arched wildly into his touch, reaching a hand to wind into his brown curls when your helpless, urgent moans grew in volume.

“Don’t worry baby girl, I won’t leave you hanging much longer,” Stan whispered through a satisfied smile against your breast. “I just need to taste you first.”

His circling finger journeyed south to track around your folds, swollen and pulsing in anticipation of his next move. Slowly dipping the tip of his finger through your soaking entrance, your hips bucked upwards and instinctively widened your legs beneath him.

“That’s my good girl, spread yourself wide for me.” Stan’s eyelids fluttered excitedly, adding another finger inside your aching cunt and hooking both to graze your soft walls. His lips left your nipple so he could gaze at your form writhing beneath him, completely at his mercy.

His curled fingers pressed urgently into your walls, building an uncontrollable pressure within you and forcing your eyes to roll to the ceiling. Stan noticed you nearing ecstasy and immediately withdrew his dripping fingers, raising them to his lips and pressing them to his tongue.

“I knew you’d taste like heaven,” he cooed gently, lifting up to dip his head into your neck placing searing hot kisses beneath your ear. “Cat got your tongue, Miss New York Post?”

“I... I...,” you stuttered weakly, your whole body alight with waves of heat and anticipation you’d never felt before. “I...”

“You’re not usually this quiet,” Stan whispered. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“I... need... you...”

He hummed contentedly, trailing his hand south to line the head of his cock with your throbbing entrance.

“What’s that, princess? You want me to fuck you?” Stan questioned with false innocence, a devious smirk plumping his cheeks. “You’ve been such a good girl waiting for me, I think you’ve earned it.”

In one smooth rock of his hips, Stan’s length slipped through your folds and bottomed out inside you. Your eyes journeyed to the ceiling as he filled you, spine arching recklessly craving more friction. He drew his hips back slowly, but his next thrust slammed his cock inside you so hard, you let out a hollow gasp.

“I know baby, I know,” Stan comforted you, curling his hips to ensure every thrust brushed the tip of his length against your deepest points and revelling in your squirms under him. “You’re taking me so well.”

Lost for words in the stars emerging in the corners of your eyes, you remained speechless as Stan broke down every single one of your weaknesses and turned you into putty in his hands. Jerking uncontrollably and sinking your head back into the pillow with every devastating thrust, Stan kissed your exposed neck and moaned deeply. Seizing his opportunity, both hands flew to lightly grasp your throat, his thumbs calmly resting on your windpipe — his aim wasn’t to choke you, just to hold onto you enough to assert his ownership of you, claiming you as you writhed beneath him. He leaned back to admire his work of unravelling you, possessing you.

“Look at you,” he hummed through a grin, not missing a single beat of his determined thrusts. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

Chasing you to your height of ecstasy once more, Stan’s staccato rhythm jackhammered into you at the same rate as the tremors consuming your body beneath his. Your vision of his bouncing brown curls above you started to fade behind the glittering haze taking over your mind. Fighting for consciousness, you stuttered a hollow cry for release as you approached your climax.

“Stan, I— I need to... I’m gonna cu—.”

“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you,” Stan reassured, wrapping an arm around your neck and pulling you into his chest as his hips grew frantic and sloppy. “Let go for me.”

With a deep growl and a final erratic thrust, Stan spilled against your walls, flooding warmth inside you that sent your head dipping into the pillows. His lips gently pecked your throat again as he poured his length back to the depths of your pussy, pushing his load as far inside you as possible.

Emerging from the depths of the pillow as you regained control of your legs wrapped around his waist, Stan slowly drew his hips back and slipped his length out from your swollen folds, his gaze dropping to your entrance as if making sure his cum wouldn’t drip out. Content that he hadn’t left any suspicious stains on the hotel sheets, Stan returned to gaze into your eyes and beamed from ear to ear.

“You... you called me Stan?” He quizzed while tumbling down to the pillow beside you, a puzzled eyebrow quirking beneath beads of sweat.

“You called me princess,” you retaliated with a joking tap of his chest. “I think we’re equal here, don’t you?”

Stan chuckled to himself and turned to face you, propping his head up with an exhausted, trembling hand. A palpable silence fell as he composed his next sentence.

“Was this, er... would you... can you...,” He stumbled nervously over his words; his assertive alter ego must have left as soon as he came.

“Cat got your tongue, Mr Trump Organi—“

“Stay.”

Your gaze dropped to your chest as you laughed it off. “As much as I’d love to, I got the feeling this was just a one-off for you?”

“That’s what I thought you wanted, too,” Stan confirmed with a quirked eyebrow.

Chuckling to yourself, you shook your head to dismiss all the worries that the dapper businessman would make you do the walk of shame once he’d finished.

“Then I’ll stay, sugar,” you beamed, settling into Stan’s chest as he scooped his arm beneath your head.

“We’ll get room service to dry clean your dress and I’ll drive you to work in the morning, if that’s okay?” Stan’s courteous streak had definitely returned.

You smiled broadly, nodding against Stan’s chest and swooping an arm around his waist.

“Besides, now you can tell me all about that presidential tip-off you had,” he quizzed. “Trump may be an extremely powerful guy, but he’s never gonna be president…”

#stan bowes x reader #pose fanfiction #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters imagines

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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

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tonight... I’m very sad about Shouto.

(I saw some poetry that's it) (No NSFW. Abusive relationship mention)

About how he knew love, and knew softness, and then was violently torn away from that bit of his life.

His mother was kind, and beautiful, but then turned ugly with rage, pouring out her hatred both literally and figuratively.

The wreckage, the damage after the deed had been done, how horrified she must have been. But you can’t hold trust after it’s broken. There’s always that voice in the back of your mind that whispers “What if they hurt you again?”

From then, his relationship with his mother, the source of gentle and kind, grew strained. Shouto still loved her, yes, but he doesn’t know how to live with her.

His father, a wretched man, with tunnel vision and a thirst for success, whether it be his own, or his son’s. A father who didn’t know the meaning of rest, who didn’t know when to stop, who didn’t know how to pull his punches in training, how didn’t even try to learn.

Shouto had to be strong.

Shouto had to be silent.

There’s no need for talking when you’re alone in your room, exhausted, burned, aching. No need for conversation at dinner, while your father steams over the disappointment of your abilities, your siblings cowering under his presence.

Why even try to engage during training, when idle chatter would earn a hand across the face and a violent reprimand. Heros are silent, heroes were strong.

His parents taught him grief. It’s a deep sorrow, a forlorn ache in your bones that settles and sticks. You can’t wash it away, not with kind words, nor gentle touches. The time for those has wilted and died.

Shouto knows silence better, finds it easier to sit back and observe, to remove, too detach. Pain hurts less if you imagine it being inflicted on someone else, as if your body wasn’t your own.

UA happened, and he became a young man, learned what friends were, why these people were nice to him, concerned about his wellbeing. Some of them expressed genuine feelings of happiness when they were around him, or at least, seemed to tolerate his presence.

The grief was buried a bit, but still visible.

Shouto was still young, and his emotions were confusing, hard too bear. Easier to let them simmer where they always had, kept under lock and key where he never had to look at them. Let them rot and mold and seep with negative fumes from his bitter thoughts.

He was able to achieve his father’s goal, become a top hero, the perfect man. Fire and ice, a deadly combination of skill and talent, fierce and foreboding.

Fame, money, it was easy to come by, but never held any real value. There was nothing Shouto could find to fill his void, his unconscious searching to finding a home. Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling, and it’s one that the young man hadn’t felt since he was a child. Even then, home was always filled with pain, fire, yelling and hatred and burning fear.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Is this all there is to life?

Shouto has everything he could ever need, anything he could ever want. Yet it all feels empty, hollow, like his heart, his soul. Nothing there, just an ache and a pain that won’t go away no matter what remedies are tried.

A soft soul, you are, willing to work with the man as he recovers from injuries he sustains fighting. His own personal physical therapist, throughly vetted and then hired by his agency.

You help the pro-hero’s body heal, retrain muscles, strengthen resolve and facilitate a healthier headspace. Shouto’s never been a particularly talkative person, and neither are you, so it works.

Talking with you isn’t a chore, a pain. The only pain he feels when he’s with you is from his body, muscles protesting as they’re worked to the limit. You’re a person that’s safe, that Shouto can let his guard down around. You’re there to help.

Shouto reads one day about how love feels. How it’s warm, and comforting. You don’t know what to say to the other person at first, clammy palms, nervous thoughts.

Your heart might beat faster, your mouth might get dry. It feels like a rush and your cheeks warm when you think about your love, a deep bond of intimacy. Love is patient, love is kind.

Shouto thinks he’s in love with you.

Maybe love is also all-consuming too, because Shouto feels overwhelmed when he’s with you. He doesn’t know what to do, how to act. You feel like the sun on his cheek in the morning, as it streams through the curtains, illuminating the room, beating back the dark.

The sun blinds him at first, and it’s all he can think about, no bad thoughts or dark memories plaguing his mind.

It’s easy to get caught up in that feeling.

Being with you, with your gentle demeanor and easy personality, is like coming home. You’re what he wants, and Shouto is enamored.

A confession is made, and accepted, and there is a reason for living in this world.

But home to Shouto isn’t bright, and comforting, and soothing.

It’s always been tinged with bloody issues, like the striking of a cheek, a raised voice, overbearing rules, regulations that were enforced down to the letter.

There’s no breaking the cycle, the cycle of pain and despair. A loving relationship turns sour as Shouto can’t reel himself back from his upbringing, from his programming.

He must always be in control, ready for all scenarios, poised and ready for an attack. Shouto needs to know what’s going on, at all times, and he dictates what will be going on, so he can better adapt for the situation.

Words are said, subtle jabs and digs that feel heavy on his tongue, leave a bad taste in his mouth. But he’s insecure, afraid. What if you try to leave him? If you don’t think you’re good enough for that, maybe he can convince you to stay.

But Shouto would never truly hurt you.

The man wants to grow old with you, be as unflinching together as the sun and the moon, always in rhythm, always together. He shouts at you one day, after he finds you crying. You’d found the engagement ring he had been planning to propose with.

It’s a privilege to grow old with someone, to love them until the very end.

Don’t be so ungrateful.

He may shout now and then, or grab your wrist too tightly, squeeze your hand with more force than intended; use an implied threat of his quirk to keep you in line... But it’s all out of love.

If love is the driving force of our world, then it’s justified.

No, Shouto could never hurt you. That’s what he always says. He’s too soft when it comes to you, when it comes to the look in your eyes that always appears when you’ve done something wrong. You could break his heart, rip it out with icy fingers, and Shouto would still feel it beating for you, ecstatic at being held in your hand.

#Shouto #shouto todoroki #yandere shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #shouto x y/n #shoto todoroki #abusive relationship #oneshot #sad #sad about this boy

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lowkeyorloki · 4 years ago

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random question: if i were to write a monologue as Loki, what are some things you think i should include/keep in mind?

Hi anon! Thanks for coming to me with your question, that’s very nice of you! Please remember that these are all my personal opinions, and at the end of the day you’re entitled to your own writing/character opinions and style. These are just how I view Loki!

I have answered a somewhat similar ask before, it was someone asking for general tips on writing Loki. Here is the link to that ask, as it seems applicable :)

I also currently have a multichapter on ao3 that is like... literally all Loki monologue. If you don’t mind smut, that link is here (it actually updates tomorrow, and the second chapter is even more monologue-y than the first)! The whole fic is meant to be an insight into Loki’s inner monologue and general thoughts, so it may help inspire ya.

But otherwise, here is some general guidelines/rules/tropes I like to think about when I write Loki:

~Try to avoid contractions. Words like I’m are fine, but if you pay close attention to how Loki, Thor, and other Asgardians talk, that’s about the only contraction they’ll use. Try not to say you’ll, say you will. Isn’t becomes is not, haven’t becomes have not, etc. etc. A lot of Loki’s characterization comes down to the way he speaks because he does talk like someone who was raised in a royal setting. Loki is also highly intelligent, and while saying contractions DO NOT mean you are dumb or uneducated, when we catch all these little details about Loki and reflect them in our writing, he seems more in character and he plays into our stereotypes about what makes someone “smart” and what makes someone not.

~Don’t let your colloquial become Loki’s. I’ve said this before, but Loki was raised thinking he was a god. Therefore, he is not going to say “oh my god” in any situation, that wouldn’t make sense. I would also caution you from using cuss words liberally. Loki is the type to use words like fuck for emphasis, to assert dominance, to express unbridled anger. I think a lot of fans view Loki as someone who chooses his words very carefully, so if you reserve words that are seen as bad for specific situations, you’ll be able to draw more attention to the emotions Loki is feeling in that moment.

~Last point on language, I promise! I always try to incorporate fancy language into my (Loki) writing. Words that I find make him sound very posh or just otherwise like himself include: quite, wholly, pitiful, siege, relinquish, enchanted, believe, etc. etc.

~Don’t be afraid to over-explain! I’m not saying go Tolkien on your readers, but walk them through why Loki feels what he’s feeling or does what he’s doing. For example:

Furious, Loki scowled as you walked away.

There’s nothing wrong with this line. However, you could make it about essentially anyone. If you’re writing a monologue, internal or not, you’re able to characterize your protagonists. If you want to give more insight into Loki, you could do something like this:

See the difference? Now, even though Loki isn’t narrating in the first person, the readers are fully aware of why he’s upset and how his own mind views seemingly neutral situations. Mind you, Loki doesn’t always have to be negative. I just like being dramatic, and I’m sure you know by now my speciality is angst. You can just as easily make this something happy.

~If you’re going to do the above, careful that you balance Loki’s internal emotional responses with external ones. The commonly accepted version of Loki is seen as a very cold and stoic man, one who doesn’t often let his emotions show through (I don’t see this supported by much source material, but that is the version of Loki fans like to see). That means you may want to sporadically add lines that convey the way Loki looks on the outside, if that makes sense. So if we take my previous point, we have:

Now, if we want to offset that and let the readers know what, say, Thor or any other character sees while Loki is thinking that, you can just tack on an extra sentence or two:

Loki’s lip curled as you walked away. It made him furious to watch you, head held high in the air as your hips swayed. A mortal like you had no business being so confident - especially not while Loki was standing right there. Despite his anger, Loki contained himself, clenching the weapon he was holding in place of letting loose his tongue. Thor shot him a questioning look, trying to figure out what had just happened between you and his brother with little success.

Now we’re observing Loki’s actions through both his lens and someone else’s, making him overall a more three dimensional character and treading that line between Loki being a very emotional person, but not one who is outwardly so.

~Be dramatic! Thor and Loki and anyone else coming from Asgard are drama queens. They wear fancy clothes, they talk in Shakespearian-esque ways, and they all have a little bit of a superiority complex despite being very insecure (and that’s that on layered characters). So much of Loki monologues is about immersing your audience in the moment, and being dramatic really helps with that. Make things more high stakes than they need to be, throw in details like clenched jaws or sharp glares. Try to pull the readers out of this world and into your own, because Loki is that grand a character and warrants full attention. Even in just fic writing, he kinda demands it.

~Get into Loki’s headspace!!! This is the best advice I can give you for writing pieces from his POV. I’ve started to do something my beta introduced me to, and that’s creating Pinterest boards for your fics. It allows you to understand the vibe you’re going for, the setting your characters are in, and it just helps with organization and visualization. It’s also fun to direct your readers to! The other thing, and this is kinda weird, is that I act out the scenes I write. I think (no, I know) it has to do with being a former theatre kid. When you act out your scenes, particularly your dialogue, it can help clue you in on details you wouldn’t have noticed before. This includes the way your face contorts or your body’s physical reactions to thing (sweating, shaking, what have you). I find this also helps with the realism of your writing, because while you’re putting the characters in fictional settings, you’re giving them authentic human reactions.

I hope this helped a bit! Please let me know if it did. Also, I would love to read your completed piece. Send me a link when you publish it ;)

#ask #writing advice #writing help #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine

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sometimesiwrite · 4 years ago

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Essi Daven: Character Reference

Aside from my own Headcanons and Theories concerning Essi Daven, I wanted to compile a character reference sheet for those of you who may want to write her or think about her independently from my own creative perspectives. This is, of course, still subjective, but I’ve linked my conclusions directly back to the source text and kept strictly to canon information for this. There is still conjecture, but that is largely where the role of fanfiction steps in. I hope you enjoy. Physicality

Right away, we see Essi as a blonde-haired, fine-featured, petite young woman. Nothing remarkable or extraordinary about her appearance aside from her eyes. As we come to know her more and more, it’s her behaviour and physical mannerisms rather than her appearance that make her more alluring as a side character. Throughout this story, we see her “smile oddly”, “snear”, and on more than one occasion, she’s seen “defiantly” tossing her head (usually accompanied by blowing her lock out of her face).

On more than one occasion, she’s seen drawing her head to her shoulders. To me, this is not shyness or desire to hide. It is a turtling at times if she’s feeling particularly vulnerable or overwhelmed, but it’s also a very casual pose. On the terrace during the banquet, Geralt finds her leaning on her elbows with her shoulders hunched up looking at the water. She’s capable of poise and all the social graces required of a banquet, but when she has time to herself, she slouches, reverts to what’s comfortable, is a dork when she’s in her own head. Yet she “daintily” steps onto the pier to join Geralt the following morning. Based on this information, I put to you that she is someone whose eccentricity cannot be fully tamed by “refinement”.

We see more evidence of this in her handling of her “birthday present”:

At first, her reaction to the stinky mollusk is, “Yuk!” and she responds in a “typically dainty” way, holding the shell at arm’s length. That is, until she's given permission to like the shell. No longer socially “required” to find the smelly slimy ocean thing disgusting, Essi lets her more relaxed side out, pulling a knife from her belt (!), and dumping the insides out the window with the practical announcement that “the cats can eat it.” Her ability to turn 180° from “Ewwww” to “Oh, here, let me just shuck this with my casual waist-knife and chuck it out the window” makes for a high likelihood that she wasn’t that grossed out to begin with, but was rather performing societal expectations.

This brings us to:

Personality

We’ve already touched on this a little, but I want to focus now on Essi’s personality, which is rather complex. One of the most general details about her personality, however, is in her speaking: she’s direct. Oftentimes blunt. Even if she’s feeling unsure, she’s not unsure of her words. She often says or asks things seemingly out of the blue, and doesn’t shy away from Depth in her conversation. Rather, it seems to be her comfort-zone, since she defaults to asking Geralt what he associates with the sea rather than making smalltalk.

That last statement, that she’s neither calm nor composed, to me says a lot. She speaks what she feels, often more easily than what she thinks. And I suspect that she often experiences her thoughts as feelings—something that comes from her gut rather than her head which is reserved for biting wit and incisive observation.

Essi knows people. Knows them well enough to push their buttons, either jokingly or politically. She’s not afraid of authority, and even though her emotions fill her entirely—to the point her hands will shake—they do not render her helpless to them; rather, it seems, her emotions fuel her rhetorical capacity. Being a bard, this makes sense since the language of song and poetry are driven by the dialogue between emotion and intellect.

Moreover, she speaks what she feels to be the truth of her experience, whether it’s her experience of someone else, or her experience of herself. What she believes to be true (however subjectively) she speaks. And if she doesn’t know something, she asks and bluntly:

The fact that she “blanches” yet doesn’t stumble over her words here tells me she’s an excellent performer, and reinforces my previous comment that while her emotions fill her, they don’t rule over her. And yet, we also know she is impulsive and impetuous from her conversation with Geralt on the terrace:

In this exchange, we see one of Essi’s most fascinating self-contradictions at play. She claims not to know how to control herself, says she is impetuous, reactive (the next morning she bluntly admits to being “nosey” and owns it). And yet her ability to recognize and acknowledge her lack of self-control indicates a depth and a level of self-awareness that reinforces my previous statement that she experiences life as a series of feelings—impulses, emotions, “vibes”—more than what we would categorize as “thoughts”. Essi doesn’t have an internal monologue; she has an external monologue of whatever internal experiences make their way into a verbal headspace. She’s not one to prattle on, talk for the sake of talking (like some Other Bards we know) because even though she has a lot going on internally, only some of it will ever make its way into words.

As demure, dainty, and fragile as Essi seems to be, she also has, as Dandelion puts it, “a dark side”.

Exactly what that is, we never really learn, but we get a glimpse of it from Geralt’s perspective at the banquet:

What did she say? While we may not be meant to ever know the answer, we know that a) Essi was smug about it; and b) whatever it was was cutting and more than likely sexually demoralizing in nature.

Which brings us to…

Sexuality and Romance

There are several instances throughout A Little Sacrifice that indicate a level of sexual maturity and confidence in Essi that contrast interestingly with her emotional naivety (which I’ll get to in a moment).

It’s possible, in this instance, that Essi simply doesn’t not abide by the same “rules” about physical boundaries and various social meanings behind physical touch. This moment is certainly not enough to draw any conclusions one way or another. However, the description of her kiss with Geralt on the terrace is less ambiguous in this way, more ambiguous in another.

I first want to fully acknowledge that this scene is a mess of different signals, and I believe the lack of further insight on the part of the author is not intriguing, but lazy. But I digress. She kisses him eagerly and expertly, which suggests that she, mechanically at least, knows what she’s doing with her face and someone else’s. The fact that she distances the rest of her body from Geralt suggests a few things: a) she wants to kiss Geralt but doesn’t know whether he feels the same way, so doesn’t want to commit fully; b) she knows that Geralt doesn’t know why he’s kissing her, and so is trying to distance herself from him so that neither of them makes a mistake; c) she’s caught off-guard and doesn’t mind having a good smooch but doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea about her wanting anything else; d) all of the above.

I would include the possibility that she feels threatened by him and is merely going through the motions, but there’s enough evidence before and after to refute that as a forefront possibility. That’s not to say it isn’t in the background, but the use of “eagerly” would suggest that she’s enthusiastic about a little lip action. We do know that she’s not “looking for a man for the night” from the end of their conversation before going back inside.

I have a few headcanons about Essi’s sexuality and I shuffle back and forth between them depending on the day. There’s enough evidence to support a halfhearted claim that Essi is a virgin (which doesn’t inherently negate the evidence for sexual confidence), but I lean more toward the notion that Essi is sexually experienced (thought likely far less than Dandelion), picky (hence the red-eared young man at the banquet), and romantically inexperienced. There is, I will say, a level of modesty, vulnerability, and hesitation in her interactions with Geralt that lead me to believe she has had minimal directly-sexual encounters.

Is it projecting to say she reminds me a lot of myself in my early-20s? Yes. But to say this character resonates very strongly with my personal experiences, I think, gives some character insight where information and road signs are lacking from the author. And I will say, it is very in-keeping with Essi’s ongoing self-contradictions to be both bawdy and sexually inexperienced. Her canon story arc, unfortunately, doesn’t allow us to imagine her a few years older, but the idea of a more confident, self-assured Essi at 23/24 makes me very happy.

Now, I’m not going to slog through the dialogue disaster that is Essi’s emotional outpouring to Geralt, but suffice it to say, it’s clear she’s never been infatuated/in love before, though she is clearly a romantic. She hates the feeling of being in love, hates that it turns her needy, hates the way it makes her skin crawl and her stomach churn. But there’s something appealing about it as well, and I think there’s a part of her that is desperate to make love. Regardless of whether or not she’s sexually active, to me it’s clear that she wants an emotional-physical connection of some kind; she seeks out comfort from Geralt, seeks out affection, tenderness, but she is also seeking an emotional return—the little sacrifice that Geralt cannot find within himself to give. If she’s had bedmates in the past, it would be remiss to call them lovers.

That’s it, folks! That’s all I’ve got for the time being. As always, questions and observations are welcome (as well as disagreements as long as you’re willing to do it nice and polite like).

#Essi Daven #Character reference #canon reference #tw canon discussion #character analysis #canon criticism #A Little Sacrifice #The witcher #The Sword of Destiny

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mallowstep · 4 years ago

Note

I’m thinking about writing a short OC piece about Windclan and I’d love to see your notes about its culture and the hymns you’ve written so far, everything you’ve done for Windclan appreciation month has really inspired me :)

hello anon!

alright, first things first: please send me ur piece when ur done if you're comfortable doing so! i will publish it from you, or if you don't want to be associated with it in Any Way, i will also just read it and add it to the queue with no indication why it's there. or if you don't want me to share it at all, i'd still like to read it.

as for your ask,

hymns?

i'm working on it. however, underneath the read more, i'll include a few snippets for u.

culture

alright, i'm just going to post links with some commentary as i go. feel free to ask any more questions you have.

windclan (search) | windclan (tag) | wcam tag | five clans (narrative essays)

i would link the elders den, but there's no windclan stories in there ATM.

moving on, i'm just going to go through posts in reverse chronological order.

tallstar taking a mate admittedly, this is more about cats and sexuality than windclan, but i provide the commentary that windclan...has a particular view on sexuality and fluidity. one thing i haven't explored but should is the role visiting cats have in windclan.

whoops that's a code word, my plug for solacefruit has been activated. okay, as you may be aware, based on the fact that i have a whole tag for it, i'm obsessed with solacefruit. now, i love everything they do, but i would like to point you particularly to "make a mighty sound" for a fantastic exploration of this idea.

i don't want to spoil anything, but i do think windclan, and maybe cats as a whole, but windclan has a certain view towards relationships that very much breaks them into pieces. i'm a "love is a verb" person, so the idea that you can grow to love someone romantically by going through the actions of love makes sense. not to say you will, but you can.

(to be clear i'm not out advocating for arranged marriages just saying that they can work, they're not destined to be bad, and there's a difference between forced marriage and arranged marriage.)

anyway.

this was a lot of words to say, cats do not have a human (and particularly, western/american) understanding of relationships, which makes analyzing them in those terms difficult.

early hymn talk i'll probably say more below, but it is here.

general ibtwicm notes might get you into the headspace for some of my choices in ibtwicm.

i don't have a ton to say because this pretty much all holds, but uh, yeah.

poetry and language this isn't strictly about windclan, but it does explain some of what i think about when writing hymns.

obviously, i'm writing english translations, but these general themes are what i have in mind. it's also part of why i say i don't think i'll ever release a "full hymnal" for windclan, because i don't know if my weak worldbuilding heart could take it if i only had translations.

names part two very much not about windclan, but just some thoughts on names. as i've said before, i support all names and worldbuilding equally, but if you want my thoughts on names, go buckwild.

clan culture fic rec list just stuff i think does a good job, if you want other sources of inspiration.

general clan culture notes this is really old, but it mostly holds.

i've obviously expanded a lot on windclan since i wrote it, so shrug? idk man.

alright, i'm going to move into hymn discussion below the cut, but best of luck! and i hope u have a good time. it makes my brain shut down to read that i inspired you, straight up got brain juice pouring out of my ears, but i'm really, really happy to hear that.

windclan holds a special place in my heart. (i know my oc avatar is from skyclan shhh it's because of the backstory he sees ghosts.) but i grew up in this super sporty household as a lil asthmatic klutz, and running was a sport i couldn't mess up, so of course windclan appealed to me.

they're actually third on my list of favorite clans, but they. it's a special place in my heart that they hold, especially after reading dawn of the clans and moth flight's vision, where i got an asthmatic cat and an adhd cat, both in windclan.

god i should reread dotc it's good.

alright, here's the deal on hymns: i am not going to fight to get duets to post correctly. there's a 0% chance i can in tumblr's wonky ass new editor with no markdown, not to mention how difficult it would have been in the old editor. so i'm going to talk a lil about what i've got, and post some stanzas that i think don't get explored a lot in ibtwicm.

we're discussing these in the order that they go in. a reminder that these are all sections of one epic poem. that said, i don't know where the gaps are. like, i don't know what's between these, if that makes sense.

the wind

the wind, the very first hymn. this is an ode to, well, windclan. it's a song about everything that makes them them. it's filled with poetry about the wind, about the seasons, and it's just...well, it's a bit of a genesis, in a way.

The wind — like the rain, like the river — calls the name of each star in its breath. The wind — like the earth, like the stone — anchors us to our home. The wind — like the sun, like the sky — is knowable only by name.

i wanted to share this stanza because the last line doesn't show up in ibtwicm (at least so far, i cut the reference), and it really, really, makes a difference imo.

anyway, windclan is basically tying the wind in with every other fundamental part of their life here.

they are the wind, and that's that.

the hare

okay, this one has a line that comes up a lot in ch1, but i already talked about that, so instead, i'm going to talk about this stanza

Speak of the earth and the dens, and you will be answered: By the call of the howling gales, the open earth singing in response. But speak of that which grows above, of the grass and field, And you will be answered by the softness of the buds and the roots.

okay, we get deadfoot thinking about this when he's talking to yellowfang.

i like this stanza because it really tells us what the hare is about. now, hares are not something windclan catches. hares are huge, y'all, there's no way they take one down. i take liberties with ecology, but not that many.

(i.e., a team of cats definitely could take one down, but i know too much, and would prefer letting team hunting stay a plot thing, and not fundamentally alter the environment in the way it would.)

now anyway, all of these hymns come from the time of the tunnelers. and the point of this is, even though the work of tunnelers and moor runners is disconnected, they fundamentally affect each other.

a moor runner must trust the hollows of the earth beneath them won't collapse, and a tunneler must trust that the prey they chase up will be caught.

it's all very symbiotic and is, well, in a way, a love poem. plus i really like the line "the open earth singing in response"

of the warrens

so this has one line, one you might not even know is a hymn, in ch1, but i'll share the whole stanza.

And as for the subject of fallow fields: Fallowed fields make for hungry prey, Yet hungry prey makes desperate rabbits, Who leap into our claws.

and ig my big point is, the hymns are a cultural artifact. just like many of the rules in the old testament have to do with hygiene things being codified into religion, this whole hymn is about hunting advice.

the moon on the river

okay, out of all the hymns, this is the most complete, and because ashfoot and deadfoot sing it together, and deadfoot discusses it, i only have one stanza to share.

Under the coldness, you shine back at me, And I do everything to keep the clouds from threatening you.

now, this poem is about love, grief, and being separated. it's a particular kind of grief, and windclan discourages grief, so this is one of only a few ways to really, fully express it.

and this section, in particular, is about love in times of hardship.

i don't have. a lot to say here. but the way hardship changes how you love someone can be particular and intense.

(temporarily, this happens sometime before "Spare for my chosen few / All I have is given towards the distant ground.")

the gorse in the wind

oh shit! i have so fucking much to say okay first.

the series title does not come from this hymn.

second, this is a challenging hymn okay. fuck. i have so much to say. where to start so! moors are actually relatively wet. think british countryside, not, like, a cool desert.

this is something i always knew? i read the secret garden a lot as a kid. but. i've seen stuff about moors being dry, and it's just one of those things that really...starts to eat under your skin. anyway.

okay, so. gorse is a dry plant. it does not like rain. it grows in sandy soil, etc etc, and yet. aside from everything we know about gorse and warriors, it also grows in this moor. because i say so.

okay, so. so so so. the lines quotes here are really deceptive, and i bet no one understood why, and that makes me just a little sad, but i couldn't find a good way to explain it in text, so uh, yeah, anyway. there's an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot: "THE GORSE: You called me the heather and I grew stronger. / THE WIND: I called you the heather and brought rain for you to grow."

so...so do you see? do you see the point? it's about communication, needs, challenging each other. fadskj;l i love this. okay, so. the point is that heather is fragile, soft, pretty, and gorse is the opposite. the part of the wind is trying to be kind and complimentary, but the gorse is saying, fuck that, you are not being kind to me by undercutting my strength.

anyway, this passage is sung by the gorse:

In what good company have I set down roots, That even through snow fall I flower. You called me the heather and yet I've weathered, Far more than your sweet-named love.

so uh, yeah, this adds context. gorse! gorse is a hardy plant that continues to flower basically all season round. it's cool. it's cool. gorse is super cool. fuuuck y'all it's such a small thing and i've contained talking about it until now, but now it's too much. the floodgates are open, and i thought about this small detail too much.

okay. deep breath. gorse is a really easy plant to grow, but it's still adapted for dry environments. so the "even through snow fall I flower" part is a little tongue in cheek: gorse itself will flower in the cold, but snow is a type of precipitation, which as we've covered, is not gorse friendly.

then we have some rhyming and puns in the next line, and finally, "yet I've weathered, / Far more than your sweet-named love." like. yes. love as a form of softness is not necessarily helpful.

i mean, consider the damaging "soft trans boi" problem. same energy.

right. okay. so we've got all that? now if you remember, this is sung when deadfoot thinks ashpaw doesn't respect him, and ashpaw says she'll sing with him if she can sing the gorse, so in essence, she's telling him...not to back off, per se, but that...she is the "hard part" of the relationship. like, okay, i refuse to even bring up gender roles in human relationships, but uh, her point is very much, "i am the gorse, and you are the wind," and it's a very monumental moment.

it's anchored, i believe, in the other scenes, but this is a small thing that matters a lot to me.

like a lot.

okay, now that i've talked about like four lines for the length of this entire post, moving on.

the heather and earth

okay, this is the last hymn i have in concrete terms, and i cut a bit of it from the latest chapter, so yeah. it's also, uh, okay everything i have for it is only a line or two, but i wanted to share this closing line (sung together):

Sing a song of forgiveness, of growing together, and we will make madness, And madness from hence will everything beautiful grow.

and i just like these lines. they got cut, it was initially part of an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot, but i can't share the part of it they talk about, because i'm reusing it for a later chapter and i'll 100% spoil shit if i try to talk about it.

but these lines? mmm they speak to me.

i don't have a ton to say about them, but i just. i like it.

if we apply the same ecology discussion from the gorse and the wind, we see heather is a plant that grows in acidic, infertile soil, and heath (which is not the same as a heather, but also kind of is) is a defining quality of heathland, which is...i'm not kidding, it's hot discourse about the difference between moorland and heathland.

i'm not getting involved, but my point is, if the gorse in the wind is a hymn about finding a working relationship, about mutual respect, etc., then the heather and earth is a hymn about working well together in a terrible situation.

god.

uh, wow! can you tell i like plants? because while parts of my ecology are dubious (see: everything regarding the rabbits in ch1), the plants part are well thought out. this shit is carefully detailed metaphor.

and that's why i won't be releasing a full hymnal. it's hard to as on top of this as i want to be. i'm not kidding, writing even four lines of a hymn usually takes me about twenty minutes, because i pull up a lot of research about how things work, how they interact with each other, etc., and then there's wordsmithing, cat worldview filter, etc.

but i hope this overview of what i've got is a good insight into my general thoughts. and i will eventually release more and more of the hymns i've got written.

#ask #anon #mine #txt #windclan #wcam #essay #long #warriors #warriors worldbuilding #windclan hymn project #mateo fanboying over solacefruit again

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lizardkingeliot · 4 years ago

Text

First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

tagged by @phoenix-ascended thank you!!!! 💖

Okay SO. I’m gonna cheat a little bit here. The first nine I’m going to post are all going to be from the first nine chapters of time cast a spell on you (but you won’t forget me) but to be fair the chapters are so long they each might as well be a story all their own lmao. ANYWAY. Here we go. I’ll post the first paragraph from each I guess, in order of chapter number obvs:

1. Quentin shook out the tension in his hands. He didn’t understand why it wasn’t getting any easier. For days on end he’d been trying to perfect the illumination spell the rest of his fellow First Years had nailed in a matter of hours. But no matter how he tried, Quentin couldn’t seem to make anything more than a spark.

2. Quentin waited until Eliot was asleep to slip out of bed and hastily tug his clothes back on. The illuminated screen of his phone told him it was just past 12am. Clutching his shoes to his chest, he opened the door as quietly as he could manage and tip-toed out into the hall, all but running to his room and clicking the lock shut firmly behind him.

3. Dry-mouthed and groggy, Quentin woke in Eliot’s bed alone. He groaned, groping around for his phone to check the time for a long moment before remembering he’d left it in his room. Quentin rubbed at his eyes, rolling over and up to his feet, muscles he didn’t even know existed screaming as he went. He picked his bathrobe up from the floor and pulled it on, then tottered down the hall to empty his bladder and brush his teeth and gulp down frantic handfuls of water from the bathroom sink.

4. Tuesday morning was hell. Quentin woke just before eleven, empty as a husk. Filthy, all used up. His thighs sticking together where Eliot’s come had dried there in the night. Quickly realizing he’d already missed his first class of the day, Quentin pressed his face into his pillow, pulled the covers up over his head, and surrendered to the blank comfort of late morning sleep.

5. Quentin couldn’t feel his face, or much of his body for that matter. Which was… fine. It was great. It was fucking phenomenal. As long as it meant he also couldn’t feel the sinkhole that had formed in the center of his chest. The one that had been there for days, weeks, months, fucking years. He couldn’t feel anything at all.

6. Quentin felt a lever turn inside his chest, the source of his magic eking out a spark. Enough at least to send a message to Julia back at Brakebills. One of those little enchanted paper airplanes they’d learned his first week in Practical Applications that he never could get to fly quite right. He scrawled his SOS on a cocktail napkin and watched it flutter away like the world’s saddest butterfly. The universe took pity on him. Quentin figured he was probably due. 7. Christmas morning was a lackluster affair.

Exchanging gift cards over coffee and devouring great mounds of Ted Coldwater’s Famous Ham and Eggs while still in their pajamas. After, Julia and Quentin lay on the living room floor and Skyped with James, his grandparents waving hello from Pennsylvania in the background. They opened the stack of impersonal and overly-extravagant gifts from Julia’s mother that had been delivered to the house the night before. Quentin received a pair of cashmere socks and a leather belt with a shiny silver buckle.

8. Quentin stood at the bathroom sink, watching his face shift in the steamy mirror glass. Stark naked save for the towel looped around his hips. Hair dripping in cool, fat beads down onto the planks of his shoulders. So clean he swore he could feel himself sparkling from the inside out.

9. Quentin tossed his phone down onto the floor and leaned back into Eliot’s heat. “It’s almost like you want my dad to know I’m faking sick so I can stay in and let you fuck me until I pass out.”

Some patterns I guess: I love how chapters 2-4 all open with Quentin in bed after hooking up with eliot but all with very different vibes. In chapter 2, he’s just experienced subspace for the first time without having any idea that’s what actually happened to him and he is having A Time. In chapter 3, they had a very intense hook-up the night before and Quentin is sneaking out again, but this time he fully plans on returning right after. And in chapter 4, we see the joy of their beginnings at Columbia contrasted hard with the misery of where Quentin is at Brakebills.

ALSO 2/3 of the chapters begin with Quentin’s name which feels right considering just how deep into his headspace we are in this fic.

Okay. Anyway. Moving on:

10. Eliot loved watching Quentin lose himself in a moment.

It could be anything really: mastering a brand new spell; savoring something decadent and sweet; fussing with his hair when he thought no one was looking; focusing very hard on making himself a cocktail and getting the ratios just right; ranting about his Fillory books; reading his Fillory books, to himself but especially aloud; reading anything; riding dick...

That last one held a particularly special place in Eliot’s heart.

(from but i would die for you in secret aka the one where eliot is pretty sure quentin is only using him for his dick. spoiler alert: he’s not they’re just idiots)

11. Teddy was turning six years old. There was nothing in the world he loved more than stories.

His favorite was a version of Lord of the Rings Quentin had cobbled together from memory. He must have told it to their son a hundred times before it occurred to Eliot he could contribute more to story time than ogling Quentin’s hands while he spoke, or popping in to suggest when the Balrog should actually be making an appearance, Quentin.

(from in a land far away aka the mosaic fic where eliot makes margo hand puppets for teddy)

12. The words came out of Quentin’s mouth without a single coherent thought behind them.

“I’m just about to catch a movie with my boyfriend!”

There, outside the coffee shop on Eighth Avenue, Quentin’s maybe-friend from high school whose name he couldn’t even remember shot him a wide-mouthed grin. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said. “Which movie? My wife Danielle and I don’t have any plans for the afternoon and we’d love to tag along. Isn’t that right sweetie?”

(from your name like a song (i sing to myself) aka the one where quentin’s memory is shit and he and eliot pretend to be boyfriends in a post-monster world)

13. Eliot dropped the last box onto the floor. “Daddy’s wardrobe is safe at last,” he said, lowering himself down into the gold chair with a sigh. “Though I can’t seem to shake the terrible feeling that Todd raided my closet at the Cottage before I could get to it all.”

Quentin surveyed the damage from his spot on the sofa: there were at least seven large packing boxes bursting at their seams scattered around the penthouse. “I don’t know how you would even be able to tell. I’m pretty sure one of those boxes is just vests.”

Eliot quirked a brow in his direction. “Some of us are cultivating an aesthetic, Quentin,” he said. “And I didn’t see you complaining when I let you dress me for dinner last night.”

Quentin couldn’t help but smile. “I wouldn’t call picking between two pre-approved ties dressing you, El.”

“I’m also counting the fact that you said my ass looked great in my new pants.”

(from the parentheses (all clicking shut behind you) aka the suspender porn fic)

14. The night Quentin Coldwater died, a brand new star appeared in the sky over Brakebills. A little brighter than Venus, it stayed fixed in the same position for weeks on end. Eliot hardly would have noticed such a thing if it hadn’t been for the way that it hummed. Or at least, that’s how it felt. A humming in his bones. An old, familiar presence. Margo thought that he’d gone mad with grief. Alice was the only one who could understand.

(from a myth of devotion aka the one where eliot is sorta icarus and quentin is sorta the sun)

15. It didn’t happen the way Eliot expected it to. He dropped the letter into the mailbox, and pain blossomed in his abdomen so brightly it was like he’d gone supernova.

And everything went dark.

(from by night, beloved, tie your heart to mine aka the one where eliot sends the letter)

16. Eliot stretched out over the mosaic, his shirt riding up just a little as he clicked a yellow tile into place, and Quentin’s pulse leapt in his neck once, twice. Three times. His breath hitched. It was becoming nearly impossible to focus. In the heat of the sun, watching the sweat soak Eliot’s shirt clean-through.

(from i won’t deny (all the things i would do) aka the one where quentin and eliot start hooking up three months into their life at the mosaic)

17. After they decided kissing on the mouth was okay, Quentin and Eliot wanted to do it all the time. In every corner of the penthouse (“If you don’t stop sucking face while I’m trying to eat my sandwich,” Kady said one afternoon, “I’m literally going to feed you to the Baba Yaga.”), outside coffee shops, in between bites at the sushi place in Chelsea that Eliot loved. Once, they went to see a movie they couldn’t even remember the name of just to make out for two blissful, uninterrupted hours in the dark.

(from and a song of praise upon your lips aka part three of the box of chocolates series where quentin and eliot are definitely dating and finally talk about their feelings)

18. Eliot startled awake to something sharp and pointed slamming into his shin. He opened his eyes, and the toe of Margo’s shoe made contact one last time. Pain seared up the side of his leg, and he winced. Jesus, she really did not realize her own strength sometimes. Or the strength of her Jimmy Choo’s.

(from that you may know (the secrets of your heart) aka part two of box of chocolates aka the one where hand stuff is still banging)

19. Eliot Waugh was High King in his blood, and somehow that felt right. When they first arrived in Fillory, Quentin assumed he would be the one to wear the crown. He’d dreamed of it most of his life after all. On the throne in Whitespire, a fleet of talking animals at his disposal, a noble quest waiting around every corner to ferry him away to the next grand, heart-stopping adventure. But when the blade bit into his palm and drew no blood, and Eliot’s came up red, it felt like the final piece of some perfect puzzle clicking into place.

(from and this is the map of my heart aka the one where quentin wants to marry eliot and they have some incredibly filthy sex before everything falls apart)

20. Eliot walked into the penthouse to an eerie quiet. He found Quentin sitting in the kitchen under a dim illumination spell, drinking a beer and poking at the screen of his phone.

“Hey,” Eliot said, setting his shopping bag down on the counter. “Where is everyone?”

Quentin sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Out. I don’t know.”

Eliot squinted at him. “You didn’t want to go with them?”

Quentin lifted his eyes, shot Eliot a look. “No.”

(from for love (if it finds you worthy) aka part one of the box of chocolates series)

And I have now been here doing this for so long I no longer have time to try and find anymore patterns lmao BUT I will be tagging: @thelucindac @akisazame @fishfingersandscarves @nellie-elizabeth @freneticfloetry @rubickk7 and anyone else who wants to play!

#the magicians #queliot #otp: proof of concept #myfic

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earthenterran · 3 years ago

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higusotsu post ep 7&8

So. My belief was proven wrong. We’re shown in these episodes (which I’m sort of treating as one episode bc I watched together and idk where it started and stopped bear with me) that Satoko is pulling the strings very particularly.

So my thoughts were wrong, and I’m dealing. Trying not to be like, too affronted because I thought the direction I assumed we were going was pretty good, but yknow. Fuck that I guess.

SO. What did I like? Because I did like things in these episodes. And also things I don’t like. Let’s start with the good:

I liked the opening conversation between Rika and Satoko. And I know I don’t touch about it enough because I do write mostly about Satoko’s whole thing but fuck, I hate seeing Rika in this situation. She’s done this before, she’s tired, she’s done. She doesn’t deserve this torture. And every time she expresses that my heart aches. She’s just a kid. She’s been just a kid for so long. Now, she’s gotten a few more new and real years only to be snatched away and put back in this cycle. It really fucking sucks. They all deserve peace and happiness and this goes so much more so for her.

I like Eua’s conversation with Satoko. There’s Eua saying something to Satoko that we get to see unnerve her. This whole time Satoko’s goal is Rika and keeping her around, but also remember all the times i’ve been saying like... Eua is the god that gave Satoko these powers and the freedom of consequence that comes with it. Now, here, we get one potential downside Satoko has to avoid. (Also weird how Eua went from ‘you’re definitely get you’re happy ending’ to ‘if you do x wrong you’ll literally lose so there’s actually no guarantees but i’m focusing on The POSITIVEs so hold on to that)

I liked the bit with Eua talking about Satoko being a witch now and revealing (its very show and tell but whatever its information ) that she is finding happiness in the deceit and manipulation and has to keep doing it. This tells us as an audience where she’s at right now. I really wish we got to see a more subtle descent for this but fuck! Wait. positivity portion.

Anyway I do like knowing where Satoko is said to be at mentally. We’ve been told that looping changes you. We know how Rika used to be, and even with anime-only OVA some light explanation that there was a witch Rika was that she had to let go of (saying this as a person who’s reading the VNs but still only has that anime info only since I haven’t gotten that far in the og source material). Basically we have previous information to connect this with, and we can move forward with the story figuring out... how to approach Satoko as a witch, and how will she respond (I mean we know... a gun, but yknow we’re not back there yet so....eeeeeh)

So. Things I Did Not Like or... yeah.

Keiichi’s just... dropped stuff. Like in the deceiving version of this arc Satoko has a connection with him. Which sure she’s pretending but this would’ve been a Wonderful chance to showcase her thoughts on someone who isn’t Rika, how she views the rest of her friends. How she views Keiichi, who she’s sometimes looked to as an older brother but also now as a looper has seen the dark sides of him. Mix that in with her like, viewing him as pawn as her rationale. Like how different is her view on him compared to Teppei? There’s gotta be a line right? Or show me how she’s blurred so much so to these faces that she can’t connect to permanently not matter who they are, if they aren’t the Rika she’s chasing after.

Eua’s line about how Satoko can’t withdraw now since she’s cast the die. Okay. If you’ve seen my other posts... whew man this got me steamed. I’m never going to get over the fact that EUA put Satoko in this position. Did not ask for this, and Satoko tried to run but was sent back to looping anyway and just kind of... scrambled from there. Like... fuck you. Hello??? I do recognize that Satoko is far away from who she used to be then but it... it all started there. Because Eua put her in this position, freedom and power and encouragement and HOW the fuck else was Satoko meant to end up? Who was Satoko supposed to become but a witch in search of happiness through the powers her god gave her?

I... I think that’s my big thoughts at the moment. I liked not seeing that shit Irie. I liked seeing the scene where Mion is told about the Teppei situation. I enjoyed the small bit of Satoko as a witch rolling on the ground. It read as kind of silly and while I’m like sort of humming about what’s the point of this story that was a nice break of just like ‘this is her headspace right now and see how she enjoys it’.

#terran talks #higurashi meta #is this meta idk its late and im tired #higurashi sotsu #higurashi gou #higurashi spoilers #higurashi #max dont look #long post

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19mrs-barnes17 · 5 years ago

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Decide

Summary: You neighbor’s clock is evil and the walls are very thin.

Part: 1/1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: injury, hospital, ...that’s it?

Word count: 3.412

A/N: Gonna open up my requests for dialogue prompts with a pairing. Enjoy!

The noise was obnoxious, so early in the morning it echoed through the paper thin walls. With a groan you rolled out of bed and slipped into exercise gear. This was becoming a real inconvenience for your lazy natured ass and you did not appreciate it. Stuffing your card into the secret slit in your waistband you waltzed out the door, locking up your apartment as you slipped in your bluetooth headphones. When you reached the staircase you pressed play on spotify before sliding your phone into your single pocket on your thigh and speeding down the steps.

Working out was not an activity you particularly enjoyed doing, but the reward of adrenaline and energy was enough that you began to mind the early wake ups less each day. They had become part of your routine and besides, you were far too nice to tell your neighbor that his alarm echoed into your room and woke you bright and early every day. You were stuck in the habit anyhow, if you didn’t hear the alarm you’d be worried.

On the bright side your endurance was improving with each early morning jog, and yet your courage was at a standstill. Your neighbor was gorgeous, and an absolute sweetheart who had helped you move into your apartment two months ago. Yet neither of you had made a move. Not once.

Today you planned on changing that, tired of waiting for him to do something and done with worrying if he didn’t feel the same. You were in the mood to move against the grain, be the first to make a move. A to hell with it type headspace.

As you jogged down the sidewalk you decided to change your usual route, opting to run laps around the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool in front of the Washington Monument instead. The area was empty when you arrived, not a soul in sight as you began your first lap. Soon enough, however, you found that a man began to pass you repeatedly and often within the same lap. You knew it was your neighbor Steve, and boy was he driving you crazy muttering those three damn words every time he sped by.

“On your right.” Though you had your music playing, his voice still broke through, the vocals and instruments not loud enough to drown him out. You really wanted to retort or show him off, but you knew that you had to conserve your energy if you were to keep going. Your pride refused to let you stop before he did. While you kept a constant speed and never sped up out of spite, it took all of your energy to do so.

“On your right.” You really were gonna let him have it for these taunts, they were killing you. He was relentless and you were becoming exhausted the more you heard him utter that phrase. This was ridiculous, just because you didn’t have the endurance of a super soldier didn’t make you weak. And yet, you’re stupid pride and stubbornness wouldn’t let you quit.

“On your right.” You couldn’t help but let a laugh slip as he passed by, you could see a hint of a smile dance across his lips as he rounded the corner. When he reached the steps he slowed to a stop, you thanked the gods, reaching the same point a minute or two later and collapsing onto a step.

“Has. Anyone. Ever. Told you. That you. Inspire serious. Competition?” Your words came out in chunks as you struggled to reign in enough oxygen, heart pounding in your chest like a beast. Steve shook his head with a smile, rubbing his neck as a chuckle slipped from his lips. “Well you do, kudos though, you have a terrifyingly good endurance.”

“Um, thank you?” You laughed softly, taking deep breaths as you leaned back on the steps with your head tilted toward the rising sun. “So, how are you liking the city?”

“Never lived in one before, only in smaller towns that no one knew unless they grew up nearby. It’s a faster change of pace, really keeps me on my toes.” He watched you speak with such intent, listening carefully. “And the people aren’t too bad.”

“That’s good to hear.” You pushed off the step and stretched out your sore muscles, definitely going to be feeling that later. Pulling out your headphones and stuffing them into your only pocket, you plucked out your phone and paused the playlist.

“You have a place you usually go after a run?” He cocked his head to the side with a perplexed expression that was vaguely puppy-like. “To eat? Or get coffee or something?”

“Oh, uh no. I usually just head back to my apartment or work.”

“Well if you’re not busy I’m headed to Jo’s down the way. She has the best pastries and I’m told the coffee is to die for.” He nods softly and you motion for him to follow you, eyes watching over your shoulder as he moves to your side.

“Not a coffee fan?” You shook your head, gesturing that you were ‘kind of’ one but not really.

“I like the sugary frozen drinks, but straight up coffee doesn’t give me any energy and so I pretty much find it useless. I’m more of a tea fan anyway.”

The smell of the coffee beans hit you and you couldn’t help but smile as you inhaled the delicious scent. It always betrayed you, made you seem like a fan or an addict but you simply enjoyed the scent not the taste. One peppermint tea and a cinnamon muffin later, you sat with Steve talking about your lives. Though you had read his in history classes and in museums, you preferred hearing the story from the source. The lives you led were different, on many accounts, and yet somehow the two of you shared a state of mind. You were different people with different thought processes, but you had similar values and hearts.

“Sorry, I’ll just be a minute.” Steve waved off your concern as you stood to exit the cafe with your phone to your ear. The conversation lasted longer than you would have liked, but telling your mother you had to go meant absolutely nothing. It may be a stereotype that mid-westerners take forever to say goodbye, yet it was so utterly true. Especially when it came to family and friends. Thankfully Steve was very considerate and waited with patience as you struggled to end the phone call that had accomplished its goal 10 minutes ago.

He found it rather amusing to watch you visibly become a completely different person than he knew. Though arguably he had lived next door to you for two months and hardly spoke to you, and yet he knew you to be quite shy and not too talkative. But with someone you knew, words just seemed to flow consistently and naturally from your lips. The way your body language shifted intrigued him, made him want to become someone you felt that comfortable around. It was a version of you he had only seen in glimpses when running with you this morning. The way you loosened up when he teased you, the lightness of your laughter nearly making him swoon.

Inside the building you went your separate ways, not crossing paths until the next morning when you bumped into him in the hall. You began to wonder if he had waited for you, as you had taken longer to get yourself ready that morning and stopped to snack on an apple. But you bit your tongue and followed his lead.

“What do you do?” He stood at the bottom of the steps in front of you, watching you curiously as you sat upon the step with your chin in your hands.

“Like as a career?” A nod and you shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips as he shook his head at you. “I’m a forensic pathologist, specializing in identifying causes of death essentially.”

This new routine became your new normal, every day you would run with Steve and talk about your lives. Each morning brought new topics of discussion until eventually they became the most absurd of thoughts. Some runs ended with silly banter while others were followed by analyzing bad dreams, each talk bringing you closer together. He was becoming someone you would go to when you were stressed or when you needed a second opinion. He was becoming your closest friend in the new city. And yet you still longed for more.

“How come you never go on any dates?” He nearly choked on his water, coughing words of confusion with a bemused expression.

“I could ask you the same.” You shrugged with a fading smile, eyes trailing toward the window as you shifted on his stool.

“Just not the object of any guy’s affection I guess.”

“Maybe they’re too scared or nervous.” You smiled softly and returned your gaze to his gentle blue eyes that held a look you couldn’t read. “I don’t doubt that there are dozens of men interested in you.”

“Then these bastards should start speaking up, I’m pretty damn oblivious when it comes to signals apparently.” Steve mumbled something under his breath and you barely caught it. “What was that Rogers?”

“Nothing.” He was saved by the ringing of his phone, you could almost see the relief in his posture as he moved to his room to take the call.

You sipped your glass of lemonade slowly, eyeing the way storm clouds seemed to be gathering in the distance. Might be a rainy run tomorrow, but Steve always had a remedy for such situations. He provided you with one of his rain jackets, and even wore one himself after you insisted upon it. Even if he was genetically modified you were pretty sure he was not immune to the common cold.

He emerged with a solemn expression and you immediately pushed off the stool, brow knit together in worry. Steve waved off your concern, explaining that he had been called in for a mission and would be gone for at least a week. You were bummed but understood that duty called and who were you to deny Captain America.

“I wonder if I’ll just wake up that early out of habit for a few days.”

“What do you mean?” You had forgotten that he still didn’t know that he was the reason you had begun to run in the mornings in the first place.

“I only took up running because your alarm clock wakes me every day at an ungodly hour.” You cringed as you forced the words out, his expression growing more and more baffled. “Paper thin walls Steve.”

“So all this time…” You nodded, laughing softly at the way he seemed to kick himself for waking you daily. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m too polite.” He was reeling from this confession and a laugh of disbelief slipped from his lips and he gazed at you bewildered. “Plus, you waking me everyday gave me an excuse to finally get into exercising in the morning. Ever since I moved in, your alarm clock has been my greatest nemesis.”

His laughter was light and infectious, his guilt seeming to fade as his eyes squeezed shut and his smile spread from cheek to cheek.

“Don’t know what I’m going to do without it for a whole week.” His eyes softened, mind seeming to be scheming behind them.

“I could call you.” His gaze shifted to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck. “If you want, keep you on track.”

“I’d like that, but your ass better factor in time difference.” His eyes flickered to yours and returned your smile.

“Yes ma’am.”

The next morning he knocked on your door and sent you off on your first run without him in ages, while he hopped into a sleek black car and faded into the horizon. It was lonelier than you remembered, but his texts buzzing on your watch cheered you on. Without fail the man called the same time every morning, even if he was supposed to be in a briefing he delayed it for a minute or two. He did his best to send you silly gifs, which you had introduced him to, in hopes of making you smile.

The mission had been extended. And without missing a beat Steve kept his promise, not missing a call and always sending you a goodnight text even if he still had a debriefing and would be up for another hour or two.

If you had learned anything about Steve, it was that he somehow found the strangest gifs you had ever seen in your life. They never quite matched what he meant and yet you began to become fluent in his gif language. You on the other hand were easily understood, your gif selection unparalleled apart from perhaps your brother. But Steve? Bless his heart, the man did his best and was slowly improving with time.

But in all seriousness, you had learned that he had the biggest heart of anyone you had ever known. He selflessly gave you a wake up call daily, made sure to check in so you didn’t worry about his safety, and always sent you to sleep with a text wishing you sweet dreams. Steve was sweet and he had an odd but sometimes hidden sense of humor.

If he didn’t have your heart before... he did now. Totally and completely.

When the next morning she awoke to the ringing of her phone she expected his voice to be on the other end. However, when her mother’s voice emanated from the other end of the line she was perplexed.

“Mom? What is it? It’s very early in the morning.” Her voice was shaky on the other end and you immediately sat up in bed.

“It’s your brother, he’s in the hospital. There was a car accident, a drunk driver, he’s okay but he’s in surgery now.”

You were anxiously tapping your foot on the rug of the waiting room, brain still not quite awake enough to fully process the situation. Your brother had come out of surgery but was not awake yet, so you sat with his fiance and your mother not speaking a word. The buzzing of your watch caught your attention, a text from Steve bringing you back to reality. You sent a quick response saying where you were with the room number included as the doctor approached.

Steve was frantic on his way to find you in the hospital, his mind racing through thought after thought. He hadn’t felt this afraid in a long time. He hated the feeling. When he saw you standing in the hall grabbing a snack from a vending machine he released a sigh of relief.

“We really need to work on elaboration of details in your texts.” You knit your brow, arching an eyebrow as he read out your words. “In hospital, room 315. Don’t worry.”

“You can’t blame my tired brain, it doesn’t make sense earlier than 7am. Or even after if we’re being honest.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry I made you worry. I’m here for my brother, he just got out of surgery. Drunk driver hit him.”

His arms were around you in a heartbeat and you were momentarily taken aback before hugging him back. You would never have the courage to admit how good it felt to be held by him, the warmth and comfort he provided. When he pulled back you felt the absence of his warmth and almost shivered.

“How is he?”

“He’s okay, bed-rest for at least a month or so to recover. Lucky bastard made it out alright.” You smiled at your little brother through the open doorway. “Thanks for coming, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I might be here a while.”

“Of course I do.” You cocked your head to the side, not quite following his thought process. “You support the people you love, especially when something happens to one of their family members.”

You met his gaze, a weight being placed over your heart. You couldn’t decipher whether he meant that as a close friend or more, the line was too blurry to comprehend. Your mind was in a state of debate, running through the past month and half meticulously. Had he given signs that you had missed? You were never sure about what could be read as more than a friendship, always too afraid to be wrong.

He must have sensed the conflict in you, reading it in your eyes or your expression. Steve took a deep breath and uttered three words you never thought you’d hear. Especially not from a man you had previously expected to remain your neighbor. They made your chest flutter, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. You were speechless, completely and utterly unable to form a coherent thought.

“Are you sure?” Minutes of silence and your doubt still won over your voice, his brow furrowing at the question.

“I’m sure.”

“How do you know?” You couldn’t help it, your mind simply couldn’t comprehend the idea that he had fallen in love with you in about two months. He was quiet for what felt like a long period of time before he finally spoke and rendered you once more speechless.

“Because you’re the first person I want to see in the morning. You’re the only thing on my mind all day when I’m supposed to be focusing on missions and briefings. And you’re the only person I can sit with in a silent room and be content.” He smiles and laughs, almost to himself before continuing. “I love the way you get so worked up about tv shows and their accuracy. I love the way you tilt your head to the side and furrow your brow when you see something that confuses the hell out of you. I can’t get over how you always seem to know every song that comes on the radio, or the lyrics to all the theme songs of the shows you watch. And I love that you find that a critical element of tv, and how you shame Netflix for having a skip button for the intro.”

“If it’s not good enough to watch every time then the show needs a new theme.” You say matter of factly and Steve chuckles as he shakes his head, raising his hands in surrender. “You know it's true.”

“I mean it Y/N. I love all the things that make you who you are. Even the flaws that make you a human being. Especially those.” Your lips part slightly in awe. “Because I love who you are and I love you.”

“I think I’ve loved you ever since you first mocked me on a run.”

“I did not mock you.”

“You were cocky about your speed and you totally mocked my average speed.”

“You are so dramatic.”

“Which apparently you love.”

“Got me there.”

“You’ve greenlit my weirdness as a trait of attraction. No turning back.”

“I have a feeling I’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg.”

“Oh you have no idea.”

You smirked, eyes twinkling mischievously at him and eliciting a laugh in response. He leaned in and kissed you fervently, your arms wrapping around his neck as he held you close. Steve’s forehead rested against yours, eyes gazing into yours intently.

“You’re going to experience a complete change in your sense of humor, trust me. I have a very twisted and odd sense of humor.” You place a hand on his chest and raise your brows. “You’re also going to end up swearing more often. These are simply traits that people always seem to acquire after spending a lot of time around me.”

“Can’t wait.”

“This also means I am likely going to become much more patriotic and heroic. And I may mess around with your shield, but don’t worry about that.”

“Mhmm. Sure.”

“This is just a taste of what you’re getting into.”

“Anything with you is something I can handle, because it means you are by my side along the way.”

“Jesus Christ I’ve unlocked Captain America’s flirt function, is it a switch or a dial?”

“Neither.”

“I’m going to become mush at this rate.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Never.”

Tags: @qtmeryr @broken-hearted-barnes @asphalt-cocktail @gstran18 @cantnkrusshedevil

Send asks to join character tags or the everything tag!

#marvel #steve #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #cap #captain america #captain america x reader

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thedragonslibrary · 5 years ago

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Is it possible to be blocked like magick or energy wise? I do not know how to put it in words but sometimes I feel like there is something that i should connect to or should be able to do but I am not. Maybe I am not idk well practiced enough but it sometimes feels like I am running against a glass wall. Maybe I Idk man. I am just really frustrated. I cant really give examples just everytime I do something magick related it feels like running against a wall and it makes me wanna cry. Sorry

Yes, of course it’s possible to be blocked!

To clarify, your first statement about feeling as though you should be able to “connect” to something is a common beginner issue. It may simply be that you haven’t found the thing you’re supposed to connect to yet - whether that’s opening your third eye and being able to talk to your guides, finding the deity and/or pantheon you connect most to in a religious manner, or simply opening your psychic awareness fully enough to feel the energies around you. The best advice I can give is to experiment. Try everything, and don’t hold yourself back!

When I was a beginner witch, I tried everything from Wicca to demonolatry to Christian witchery, from reiki to hexing and cursing, from psychopomp work and shadow work and light work and everything you can imagine. If you can think of it, I probably tried it in some way. Only by putting yourself out there in as many avenues and paths as you possibly can, will you find what works for you. If something doesn’t work, doesn’t fit or “feel right,” put it away and move on. Read everything you can - on Tumblr, in books, in every single resource you can find. It took me probably five or six years of exploration to figure out what generally “worked” for me, and I still feel like I’m learning and discovering new outlets for my magical expression.

An extra “something” is not for everyone. Often in magical practices, you are the source of your own power. Sure, crystals and herbs and grounding and gods help, but ultimately the magic is coming from you. You might not necessarily need an extra “thing.” Let your magic be intuitive, don’t let books or Tumblr bloggers tell you how to do your thing step-by-step. Take spells or rituals and modify them to fit your needs - that is how they’ll be most powerful and useful for you.

But back to the topic of blockages, if you have already had magical abilities previously: I have gone through blockages myself, and they are exactly what you described here: frustrating, like hitting a wall. Sometimes it feels as though all your “power” has been taken away, and you’re left without your previous magical agency. You might have the thought that perhaps you were just making everything up all along, that maybe you’ve been deluding yourself. Trust me, you didn’t, and things will get better!

In my experience, there are two general types of blocks you can have. I’ll outline them for you and how they can be worked through.

The first is a bit simpler, and is more like an art block. Lots of magic-users go through periods of this softer, mental blockage at some point or another on their path. It can be sometimes referred to as a Fallow Period, which comes from a similar phrase in farming used to refer to when a partition of soil is meant to rest for a season or two to regain its fertility.

A Fallow Period can arise from burnout, especially from outside sources creating stress in your life.

Magic, especially psychic and spirit work, is infinitely more difficult when you are stressed, going through a rough mental health period, or when you are physically ill.

Fallow Periods can also be caused through divine intervention - your spirit guides or deities may have decided that you need to take a break to focus on real life, or to focus on taking care of yourself for a little while.

Blockages of this nature eventually right themselves, but it can take time - it can last anywhere from a few months to over a year.

The best thing to do when you’re experiencing a fallow period like this is to not force it. You are only going to frustrate yourself if you continue to attempt to perform magically and have little to no results. Additionally, you’re going to create a deadly cycle of feeling disappointed in yourself, and eventually burn out so hard you won’t want to do magic at all anymore.

Instead, take some time to create: write poetry, draw, or paint. Write devotional poetry. If you want to do magical work, work on your grimoire or book of shadows. Focus on practical magic you can do with your hands - cooking, creating items with intent, cleansing and clearing your home.

Take time to meditate and perform self-care. Perform practical, easy meditations like the simple, free ones in the Headspace app, or find guided meditations for free on YouTube that bring you into fun, brightly colored astral spaces. Take baths and imagine all of your troubles washing away down the drain when you’re finished. Give yourself room to heal and just feel good about yourself.

When you feel ready to move out of your Fallow Period, it will come very naturally. Like an urge to pick up a witchcraft book or to astral travel suddenly. Don’t worry about easing back into it - while taking it slow might be good for some, it’s not for everyone. If you’re really excited to get back into magic, and you’re being urged to do it right now, go ahead and do it!

The other type of blockage is a physical, energetic blockage. These are usually sudden-onset conditions. If one day you are performing just fine magically, and the next you wake up and you can’t feel any of your sixth senses, and you are not physically sick or particularly more stressed out than normal, you probably have a physical energetic blockage.

Ensure first that it’s an energetic blockage. Perform a reading on yourself, check your energy centers, figure out how you’re feeling physically. Meditation goes a long way here, as well as visualizing your energy moving through your body. Does it seem to stop anywhere? Likewise, do you feel extremely hopeless and drained energetically for no discernible, tangible reason (i.e. depression or a recent traumatic experience)? Can you not even muster up the motivation to check yourself? Then you probably have an energetic blockage.

Find an energy healer in physical proximity to you. Trust me when I say that it is not enough to go to the local Hand & Stone and ask for a reiki massage (I have tried this for you already, and please believe me when I say it’s not going to solve your problems). Distance healings do work and are worth it, but in my personal experience physical healings tend to be much more powerful when it comes to dismantling blockages in this way.

Ask around at your local metaphysical stores. Find someone who is a reiki master or another type of energy healer, who has great reviews outside of what’s posted on their website and who has a great deal of experience. Ask them if they have unedited testimonials anywhere they can share with you (such as Google reviews).

Ask what their process is, ask to see their healing space, ask them what physical tools they use in their session. Ask them if they’d be willing to charge a small fee for them to examine you and figure out what’s going on (don’t expect them to do something like that for free). Remember that they should never suggest that they can heal physical ailments or claim that their services replace allopathic medicine - they should only focus on your energetic issues.

Explain to them that you feel blocked energetically and that this is exactly what you are looking to be treated for - psychics and healers are not mind readers, and they cannot help you if they’re not told what they need to fix.

Pay attention to your gut and what feels right. Even in a blocked state, you always have decent access to your intuition.

I won’t lie, you will likely need to shell out a good amount of money for this. A good healer worth their salt most likely won’t charge you less than $60 for an hour session.

If you don’t feel some kind of energetic release during your healing session, mention that to your healer. Since you’ve already told them about your issue, they may be able to give advice as to why you didn’t feel any specific change, as everyone’s process is different and the healer you’ve chosen to work with is going to have the best understanding over the situation, after you. Again, pay attention to your gut. Give the healing a couple of days to set in, and make sure to drink plenty of water and pay attention to how you feel.

When I personally dealt with my own physical energy blockage, when it was finally healed it felt like a dam breaking and all of my energy flowing back into my body. It felt like I had had one of my senses shut off, and for the switch to finally be turned back on. Not everyone is going to feel this way, but if you’ve been blocked for a particularly long time, it may feel very strong and overwhelming to have yourself be un-blocked.

Whatever your situation is, I hope this post was helpful! Good luck on finding your solution!

#witchcraft #energy work #fallow period #spirit work #blockages #energy blockages #energy blocks #healing #energy healing #energy healer #talymaly

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kangaracha · 5 years ago

Note

1, 4, 5, 8, 9, 13 :)

de1: of the fic you’ve written, which are you most proud of?

not counting my fics that aren’t zombies, if only we knew. I often feel like I lose the thread of my themes and stuff while writing my like longish stuff, but on this it all just sort of....came together and Worked. also I really challenged myself with the themes of this, and I’ve continued challenging myself with the themes of the sequel, and the chasm grows and I’m really happy I stuck to my guns with it because I think it came out really nicely.

also that one prompt I did for you where zed lowkey killed addison? yeah I’m pretty proud of myself for that. (but really, I turned that out in thirty minutes total, which is probably the fastest I’ve ever had something that feels so complete finished ever, and I was so happy with the twist and the clues I worked in there and it’s probably the only short thing I’ve ever written that doesn’t feel like the pacing is weird or rushed)

4: what are some themes you love writing about?

hmmmmmmmm. I think friendship is my like, go-to, I love building/exploring relationships between characters and generally I latch on to friendships over romantic relationships. death is always a good one, I enjoyed exploring that in if only. I don’t like coming of age or the ‘chosen one’ sort of plots, but I do like strong characters and taking them on a journey of discovery/leadership/growth into being a hero. My one true love is apocalypse stories, and all the things that come with them - the loss of hope, the losing or finding of humanity, the state of the world/humans, corruption, rebellion, the choice of whether to be good or bad, the ability to question if there is a point at which it isn’t worth it to live in a world like that anymore.........there are just endless, really deep and solemn themes to explore there and the added bonus of these twisted and sometimes unrecognisable worlds.

5: what inspires you to write?

in the day-to-day, music is a huge help in just...setting my mind to writing, getting in the right headspace, and it’s a great source of ideas sometimes too. I have a playlist for everything that takes more than a couple of days to write, so when I need to settle into the vibe of a piece or I want to spend some time thinking about what I’m doing with it, I’ll throw on the playlist and spend an hour or so like...sinking into it.

otherwise, my fanfic ideas mostly come just from lines or things I see in the source material - identity came from that scene when they return from zombie containment, zed’s explanation of containment and eliza’s spiel. the beginning of if only came from your prompt fill but the rest of it sprouted entirely from the line ‘we die. we be nothing.’ and you will run and run and run came to me during eliza’s verse in ‘my year’.

my favourite place to come up with fantastic scene ideas and/or plot twists is in the shower, or while driving. on my way to work is a particularly good time, because it’s just so early and my brain is still half-asleep and doesn’t care about plot holes.

8: is there a character you love writing for the most? the least? why?

well I mean, right now I am l i v i n g for that Wyatt-centric fic. he’s a character that’s calm and thoughtful and leaves a lot of room to fit in contemplations and explain plot elements and leave space between dialogue without it feeling out of character like it might for a character that is more hot-headed and faster-paced. I really like Eliza for similar reasons, even though she’s a much sharper character - where Wyatt is slower, a mediator who evaluates options, she is clever and cunning, still a character who is always thinking and who can be used in that way, but for a different sort of outcome (which I desperately hope to explore in run and run one day)

my least favourite is Willa; I took a pass at her in hunters (it’s do or die, to everyone who isn’t keeps xD), and while I really like writing her as a secondary character, I find it really hard to get into her brain while maintaining that ruthless, ruled-by-pride version of her that I’ve built up without accidentally softening her. I just find that she stands up a lot better when I am writing from another point of view looking at her, rather than trying to get inside her head, and the way that I’m going towards breaking her down in a current wip is the only way I’m really interested in doing it - I don’t think I’d ever be interested in writing anything like if only we knew with Willa as the focus.

9: a passage from a wip

this one is just mean because you know that the only wip I have enough to show you of is and the chasm grows, and you know that you’ve seen everything I want to show you and that I’ll want to show you something new because I like it when you yell at me xD

“I don’t need your help, Wyatt,” Wila insists, unaware of the way such a cold sentiment splinters his heart into a million pieces.

“You always need my help,” he replies, his voice rising and rising. “You asked for my help just a few days ago!”

“And then you went and caught a fever, walking around out in the rain!” Her words are hot and angry, but for the first time, it is not directed at him. “I haven’t needed you all week, Wyatt! And I don’t need you when you’re half dead!”

13: who are your favourite writers?

s h i t.

out of the zombies fandom, you and @fist-it-out, although I’ve tried to read all the stuff from you guys in the discord and everyone seems to have their own little niche (even my tumblr friends who aren’t in the discord have their own corner of the fandom, everyone is rocking it, I’m just over here trying to carve out my own piece of paradise). i have nothing to say to you and sarah because I tell you all the time that you’re amazing so I’m just gonna name everyone else I talk to on a regular basis.

@rainfallingfromthesky is honestly the mvp like if I’ve read anything of yours then I don’t remember but you’re a godsend for editing and you’re the only thing holding river cold together and you fix my words when I don’t know what to put there so you’re one of my favourite writers even if you’ve never given me anything to read.

@kokinu09 and @gayce-ventura over here in fluff city keeping the balance on the relevant fanfiction sites between my everyone dies nobody’s happy bullshit and y’know, actual good fic. I don’t get like, pms bugging me to read your stuff so I think I miss it sometimes or I’m like ‘oh I’ll sit down and read that later’ and then I’m busy for four days and that’s honestly pretty shit of me but I’m still reading and I still love your shit, I promise xD

@gogoseabrook i mean..............weather warning. that’s....that’s all.

I didn’t think you’d be writing shit like that brooke like I think I still have whiplash. you’re over here telling me I intimidate you and then you just quietly put the link to that in the discord. like........holy shit

#about roo #asks

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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Headcanon that Dick handles explosions BADLY, and Jason thinks this is about him and how he died, which is understandable given that Jason also handles explosions badly (if they’re not caused by him, ie ones that he’s unprepared for - which makes for a very unconventional argument in favor of being the one to introduce explosions into any particular situation and thus preemptively control that particular factor there, but then again, Jason’s an unconventional kinda guy and also I digress).

So one time there’s an explosion and both Dick and Jason are on edge in its aftermath, because of it, and so Jason snaps at Dick for being visibly rattled by it because he’s trying to distract from his own lingering uneasiness like he’s all Self, get it together Jay, its been years, you should be over it by now, even though he knows damn well trauma doesn’t work like that, its just that he WANTS it to because this is INCONVENIENCING HIM, dammit, and thus he is edgy and irritable and snaps at Dick like oh fucking suck it up, I’m sick of you getting all worked up every time there’s an explosion around us because you’re so bothered by what happened to me like, its not about you, and you being a jittery freakshow because you’re all like, oh no, lemme hijack my brother’s trauma and make it my thing is really annoying, so knock it off.

And Dick gets all quiet and pensive and is just staring at him for a long while, like he doesn’t quite know how he wants to respond to this, and so Jason doubles down and commits to staring back for as long as is necessary to win, because like, look that’s just how being siblings works and also he’s right. Except he’s not, because when Dick finally does speak, its to say with a kind of pinched, controlled attempt at keeping his voice emotionless so as not to betray any kind of anger but also hurt, and also, it doesn’t work....

So he’s just like, please don’t take this the wrong way, Jason, because I certainly don’t mean to take anything away from your own experiences or imply that I wouldn’t be affected by them just as a reminder of what happened to you, but the effect that massive, unexpected explosions have on me has nothing to do with that actually. It just triggers certain memories and emotions from the time my city was nuked by supervillains.

And then he walks away stiffly and Jason’s like aww, fuck, because the downside of not letting yourself be someone your brother feels comfortable unburdening himself to because you’re worried that means you might risk unburdening yourself to him too and that’s just unthinkable, is like, its very easy to stick your foot in your mouth when there’s a decade and a half’s worth of active superheroing in your brother’s life where he could have been the victim of or exposed to any number of ordeals, injuries or traumas and that you have no clue about, other than maybe two or three of them....and just because two heroes have shared traumas or triggers or overlap in some traumas or triggers, that doesn’t mean they stem from the same place or are equivalent or even trying to be, its literally just that they occupy similar spheres of existence/experience, but either way, its really just not a great idea to assume off the bat that any given other hero has no possible relationship with the very same experiences or traumas or triggers you struggle with yourself.

And I know people are gonna try and make this a competition thing or a gotcha moment against Jason stans or try and compare and contrast explosion based traumas but hashtag Literally Don’t Tho, because that’s honestly not the point and I do actually mean it when I say that shit is tired and boring, and they’re both allowed to be traumatized for different reasons and scale and scope are utterly irrelevant when we’re talking about two different brothers engaged in two different post traumatic stress reactions stemming from two different sources.

This absolutely literally is legit just a headcanon that’s not about blaming Jason or saying he’s a bad brother at all, this is just a possible glimpse of their dynamic at some point, based off a scene I was picturing for a fic I was writing at some point and never finished, wherein Dick’s triggered by an explosion to a degree that’s even worse that specific time than Jason’s reaction to unexpected explosions normally is on average. With the difference being that this explosion had a greenish tint to the flames and Dick just fucking freaks and throws himself at Jason to protect him, and gets hurt in the process and thus Jason freaks and gets pissed at Dick because he feels guilty Dick got hurt because of him and also is legit pissed because he thinks its cuz Dick was reckless out of some misguided attempt to protect him from something that already happened to Jason, and thus is stupid.

But in reality, the reason for this particularly extreme reaction from Dick to this particular explosion is that the greenish tint triggered a highly specific and intense recall to the memories and emotions Dick had surrounding Chemo’s bombing of Bludhaven, since Chemo’s radiation powers gave that explosion a greenish tint too. And thus Dick’s reaction here also included channeling his overwhelming impulses of that time, in which he literally ran back into the radioactive fallout zone without any of the appropriate gear, because he was so lost in the headspace of ‘all these people dying is all my fault because the villains were targeting me specifically’ that this overrides all conscious cares for self-preservation, as well as awareness of his brother’s own competence and skills.

And thus also this post is about how fucking obnoxious it is that anything that includes both Dick and Jason having trauma reactions in the same scenario usually devolves into compare and contrast or better yet, Who Wore It Best, because that shit absolutely makes it all but impossible to explore entire facets of this fucked up family’s interpersonal relationships and dynamics, when its always treated as being about blaming one person or another for hurting another’s feelings or trying to rank the most hurt in any given scene, and sometimes its really just as simple as character x kinda stuck his foot in his mouth and made things tense and uncomfortable between him and character y for a little while and that’s all it needs to be, not an invitation to The Roast of Character X, Let’s Expose Him For Being A Horrible Person, instead of just them both being brothers who occasionally set off emotional landmines around each other due to no great flaw of their own but rather just due to the fact that their lives mean they inevitably both exist at all times as islands adrift in a sea of potential emotional landmines.

This post was brought to you by the letters ADHD and also fuck you punctuation, what’s so great about you anyway.

#like I can not ever stress enough how much my insistent harping on the double standards in fandom is literally just that #about the DOUBLE STANDARDS #not about trying to point to Dick as the most traumatized or most anything or best anything #merely attempting to point out the imbalanced perception of him compared to his brothers #in order to eliminate that imbalance from the equation #and put them on equivalent narrative footing #that's IT #please do not use my meta to attempt to leapfrog Dick into First Place Gold Medal Winner of Trauma Olympics #I reiterate: I hate Trauma Olympics whether my faves are winning or losing #because nobody really wins that shit and its counterproductive and I don't want to play #and also like you can do what you want with my meta obviously #Im just saying like for this particular usage of it #I'm not actually on board with that #just FYI

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pikapeppa · 5 years ago

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Pikapeppa Tutors: How to accurately portray canon characters in your fanfic

@the-rogue-mockingjay ahh I’m so honoured you would ask me about this! Forgive me - I’ve gotten carried away and decided to write a little tutorial post to answer!

I will preface this by saying my key goal when writing fanfic is to represent canon characters (henceforth CCs) as accurately as possible, both in their personalities and in their speech patterns. If a reader tells me they can hear the dialogue I wrote in that character’s voice, then I have done my job properly. Now, this is NOT the only way to write fanfic; some people write it as pure fantasy fulfillment without worrying too much about keeping things in-character, and that’s ok too. I personally strive to write CCs to be as true to their canon as possible, and that’s the outlook I’ll take in answering this ask.

Since Rogue asked about Dragon Age’s Fenris, we’ll use him as an illustrative example.

Tip #1: Learn as much as you can about your canon character.

This first step is pretty straightforward: learn as much as you can about the CC. Find out as much as you can about their backstory: where they’re from, their social status, their family, any major traumas they’ve been through, any key positive experiences in their life. Watch Youtube videos of all the dialogue options with the CC in question, since dialogue that you haven’t seen in your own playthrough can give new and fresh facts or perspective. Very importantly, read or listen to all of their canon dialogue with the other companions in the party, so you can see who they get along with and who they clash with, and why they clash. It is my belief that some of the most important information you can learn about any character is how they interact with the people around them, so searching for all of the CC’s canon dialogue is something I strongly recommend. The Dragon Age Wiki and Youtube are great sources for writing Fenris, or any DA characters, obviously.

The more you know about the CC, the more accurately you’ll be able to portray the CC’s actions and reactions when you start writing them. Knowing as much as you can about the CC’s backstory, motivations, and temperament is especially important if you’re thinking of writing in the CC’s POV, like I have done with Fenris.

CAUTION: Don’t worry about knowing every single fact about the CC. Don’t let yourself be paralyzed by the possibility of not knowing everything.

I’ll use my own example of Fenris to illustrate this. When I first started writing Fenris, I hadn’t even finished playing DA2 yet; I’d only gotten to the beginning of Act II when I was seized with the urge to write him. I somehow managed to write all the way through to Act III before I realized - from watching Youtube clips - that Fenris was regularly sexually abused by Danarius. (In my playthrough, I didn’t get the dialogue from Danarius where he taunts Fenris about this.) That’s a pretty huge fucking piece of information about Fenris’s character, IMO, and one that I still smack myself now for not realizing ahead of time. Once I discovered it, I incorporated it into my writing of his character (and somehow no one seemed any the wiser since I never got any complaints LOL). All of this is to say that you don’t have to know EVERYTHING to start writing the CC!

Tip #2: Make up a character sheet for the CC. If you’re writing a romance, make up a character sheet for the CC’s love interest as well.

A character sheet is a good way of just compiling together everything you know about the character and getting a clearer picture of who they are in your mind. Making a character sheet is something that every writer does differently. There are probably some writers who don’t do it at all, while some people have very structured templates.

Personally, I don’t have a formal way of writing a character sheet; I just word-vomit freeform facts into a doc. And since romantic relationships play a central role in my writing, I tend to have a character sheet for both characters together, with a huge focus on how the two characters’ personalities will impact - and be impacted by - their relationship as time goes on.

Let me use Fenris and Rynne Hawke as an example. Here’s the beginning of my outline doc for Fen and Rynne. PLEASE FORGIVE MY TYPOS, Maker help me.

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

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

So as you can see, this character sheet gives info about Rynne, plot-important aspects of her appearance (her tattoo), and why Fenris would fall in love with her. It’s not comprehensive or particularly organized, but it contains crucial information about my plot - i.e. Rynne and Fenris falling in love and getting together.

Tip #3: Listen to audio clips to capture the CC’s speech patterns.

Once you have a good handle on the CC’s backstory and motivations, it’s time to think about writing the actual words that they would say. Honestly, the way I capture a CC’s voice is by listening ad nauseum to Youtube clips of their dialogue so I can have their voice and speech patterns in my head when I’m writing. While I’m in the middle of writing, I frequently pull up dialogue video clips to refresh my memory of their voice and to make sure I can imagine them saying the lines I wrote. (As you can imagine, listening to video clips of Fenris talking is NO HARDSHIP WHATSOEVER.)

Tip #4: Don’t worry about portraying them perfectly right away.

Like all skilled crafts, writing is a learning process, and you have to start somewhere! It can definitely be intimidating to start writing a CC, especially CCs who have extensive and complex backstories or attitudes like Fenris or Solas. But I have also found that the more you write, the more you will come to know your CC. The more you write, the more natural and familiar their voice will become. To be boring and cliche, practice makes perfect!

One way to ease into writing a CC, especially when writing from their POV, is to take some of their canon dialogue and write a drabble about their thoughts during that moment of dialogue. This can be a fun and low-pressure exercise for getting yourself into the CC’s headspace and speech patterns. For example, early in my Fenris writing, I wrote this very short oneshot revolving around Fenris’s famous “I dance, of course” dialogue line with Varric, which illustrates his sense of humour, his relationship with Merrill and Varric, and his growing crush on Rynne.

Tip #5: My Fenris is not your Fenris.

It’s important to remember that the more you write a character, the more that character will change in ways that may not necessarily be canon, because people change and grow by virtue of their relationships with the people around them. For instance, “my” Fenris has a somewhat softened stance toward mages as a consequence of being in a rivalmance with a mage!Hawke who pushes him to challenge his anti-mage prejudices. But another writer’s Fenris could continue to be very anti-mage if their Hawke was also anti-mage, and that could still be true to character. As another example, I am also a notorious slut for the Fenris rivalmance, but I have written a oneshot of the Fenris friendmance, and that was challenging because it felt like I was writing a very different person.

All this to say that different writers will write the same character in different ways, and all of those ways may still be accurate. The way I write Fenris is probably unlike the way other people write him, and that’s okay, because people - both real and fictional - are changed by their relationships with those around them. The idea is to retain the character’s core temperament and motivations while bending the aspects that are more flexible. To paraphrase someone somewhere on this hellsite who was talking about Solas at some point: “my Fenris is not your Fenris.”

But Pika, you write dialogue for all the characters in Inquisition and DA2. Do you have a character sheet for every character? Have you done extensive research about all the characters?

HA. NO. Fenris is actually the only CC I have a character sheet for. But Fenris is also the CC I have written the most, and the vast majority of my FenHawke work has been from Fenris’s POV. He is also an undeniably complex and multi-faceted character, especially since you can both rival- and friendmance him, so I had to be well-informed and thorough in order to do him justice.

If you’re planning to write the whole Dragon Age crew, I would say the amount of research you do about each of the CCs will depend on how large a role they’re going to play in your fic. For my Fenris the Inquisitor fic, Cole, Solas and Dorian have been playing pretty big roles, so I have done more research about them than about other characters in the cast. I don’t have character sheets for them, but my fic outline for Fenquisition does contain a lot of notes about Fen’s relationship with each of them. And I’ll still listen to video clips of them talking to refresh my memory of their speech patterns.

I hope this has been helpful for some aspiring fanfic writers out there! Let me know if there are other topics you’d be interested in reading about, and I’d be happy to address them if I can!

- Love, your friendly neighbourhood Pikapeppa xoxo

#ask me anything #pikapeppa tutors #fanfic writer's life #fenris #fenris fic #dragon age

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basic-cable · 5 years ago

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Fic Rec Bingo

I saw this making the rounds on Twitter and decided I’d like to try it (mostly because I enjoy going back through my list and reminiscing about the ones I love but haven’t read in a while), but didn’t feel like Twitter was the best place to post mine. I’ve got both Dreamwidth and Pillowfort, but I haven’t really used them. This is probably the kind of thing that should go there, so maybe I’ll post it there, too. We’ll see.

Anyway, I only read in four fandoms, so maybe my recs will be boring to most people. But they’re good stories, and maybe there are even some people out there who haven’t read them.

I don’t expect any reblogs or anything, but maybe people will see it and decide they’d like to take part, and then there will be more fic recs out there making the world a better place.

I put them under a cut because the descriptions and stuff take up so much space.

1. A fic you love without knowing the source material Take the Pieces and Build them Skywards by quarterturn Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 44,816 ** Explicit ** Character Death Gerard's not happy with his life, but that doesn't mean he's particularly thrilled when he wakes up dead. To add insult to injury, he finds out that instead of crossing over, he's been chosen to join the ranks of the grim reapers. Things get more complicated when he falls for one of the living, a waiter named Frank Iero. And just when everything finally seems to be falling into place, Frank's name shows up on the list of souls to be reaped. Loosely based on the TV show Dead Like Me.

I don’t know anything about the TV show Dead Like Me; when I first read this fic in 2009, I had never even heard of it. I’ve wondered since then if I like it even better because I don’t know anything about the source material, but I’ll never know.It made me laugh and cry; it’s an emotional roller coaster, and I love it.

2. A fic with a premise that shouldn’t work but does

An Inexplicable Occurrence of Angels by stele3

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 35,192 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

I've messed with the band timeline, clearly. This is set in summer of 2005... but it ain't the Summer of Like. This is a story about second chances and gutting through your own failures, but never letting them defeat you. Take that, bitches.

Frank (Frank!) is a literal angel, okay, but there is not a thing I don’t love about this story. It’s angsty but still manages to be cute and charming as fuck, and the characterization is great.

3. A fic you’ve reread several times

Seeds by thesardine

Sherlock ** Gen, supposedly ** 5,475 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

In a fit of boredom Sherlock plants some seeds, may or may not eat one cracker, and definitely waxes dramatic on the sofa for a while.

Sherlock struggles with a bit of depression caused by boredom, and accidentally discovers a hobby he slowly learns to allow himself to enjoy. I love this a lot; the author takes us into Sherlock’s headspace, so you’re painfully aware just how much he needs a distraction, and how much better off he is with John in his life.

4. A fic you still remember many years later

In Care Of by Fangs_Fawn

Harry Potter ** Gen ** 45,319 ** PG-13 ** Child Abuse

During the summer before sixth year, Harry finds an injured bat in the garden and decides to try to heal it...and an unwilling Snape learns just what kind of a person Harry Potter really is.

Between the Dursleys getting what’s coming to them, and the redemption of Harry, Snape, and Dumbledore in each others’ eyes, this story has really stuck with me through the years.

5. A comfort fic

Nature and Nurture by earlgreytea68

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 203,273 ** Mature ** No Warnings

The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street.

Thousands of words of fluff. Literally. There’s not a lot of conflict in this story, which makes it a great comfort fic when your mind is too busy or real life is too depressing.

6. A cathartic fic

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 157,369 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

"Do you just carry on talking when I'm away?"

Post-Reichenbach John is walking the line between fantasy and reality, choosing to stay with the Sherlock in his head rather than deal with the reality where he no longer exists. He eventually manages to attempt a normal life, but he’s bored and basically sleepwalking through his days, so when Sherlock finally reveals himself, it’s the best kind of relief. They go after the last remnants of Moriarty’s web, in hopes of a second chance at the life they should have had together.

7. A fic you’d print and put on your bookshelf

Saving Sherlock Holmes by earlgreytea68

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John Mycroft/Greg ** 139,494 ** Mature ** Underage

Okay. So. This was literally supposed to be, like, three or four chapters as a prologue to the show. Sort of a "what happened in the Holmes childhoods to make them the way they are today." That's why it's set in the time period it is, because I thought I was eventually going to leave them to go on to the show. And then...I got a bit carried away and thought, Here I have established the two young Holmes boys. Now what happens if, instead of making them wait twenty years, I give them everything they need to fix themselves right now? Forty-three chapters later, you have this story.

To be honest, I would like to have most of my favorite fics in book form, with actual pages, that I could pluck from my actual shelf and sit and read without the glare of a screen between us. But I do enjoy the feel of this story, and I do believe it would make a good actual book.

8. A fic you associate with a song

Unholyverse by bexless

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 186,764 ** Explicit ** Violence & Character Death

“He thinks I have stigmata,” Frank said, because what the fucking hell, it couldn’t get any worse. He might as well just lay it out.

“Oh, well,” said Brian into his hands. “Of course.”

Every time I so much as think about this series, MCR’s Heaven Help Us starts playing in my head.

9. A fic that inspires you

Turn by Saras_Girl

Harry Potter ** Harry/Draco ** 306,708 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Frankly, I love every single thing this author has ever churned out, but this one is my very favorite. Harry gets a glimpse into what his life could have been, and a chance to make big changes he desperately needs.

10. A fic that brought you on board a new ship

So, So Fucked by Anonymous

Bandom ** Pete/Patrick ** 12,565 ** Mature ** No Warnings

Pete accidentally "outs" himself and Patrick on Good Morning America. Only problem? They're not gay. What now?

I was reading strictly in Harry Potter at the time, and wasn’t interested in bandom at all, but my best friend was doing betas for someone who was writing in bandom, and she ended up getting into it and then wrote this one, and kept calling me about it to bounce ideas around, and the story was so cute, and Pete and Patrick were so cute, and I suddenly found myself totally invested. Honestly I think it may have been one of the best things that ever happened to me.

11. A fic you wish could be a movie

The Anatomy of a Fall by novembersmith

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 107,525 ** Explicit ** Violence & Character Death

The unholy union of a high school AU and a ghost story. Gerard's life takes a strange turn when his family moves to a small town in Vermont and he discovers the locals aren't all what they seem to be. Also includes: unexpected nature walks, murder, pining, improper treatment of crime scenes, a number of bone-related puns, high school bullies, and a short-range shrub named Ferdinand.

This story has excellent imagery that I think would work really well on the big screen. Plus I can’t even hear the name of it without my heart doing flip-flops.

12. A fic that led to you making friends with the author

Seven ficlets for Valentine’s Day Part VII by RedOrchid

Bandom ** GSF ** 1,042 ** Mature? ** No Warnings

Panic-as-cleaning-equipment-AU Valentine's Day GSF.

I technically don’t have a fic for this bingo square, but this one comes close, I guess. The author was already in my larger circle of friends, but we didn’t actually talk to each other? She wrote this crack ficlet around the same time we started talking to each other more, and I still vividly remember it because of the genius involved in turning band boys into literal cleaning equipment. The line “Ryan bristled” has stuck with me to this day.

13. free space

Elf ‘Verse by mokuyoubi

Bandom ** GSF ** 103,247 ** Explicit ** Underage

Modern AU where Ryan is a famous poet, and he and Spencer are fiercely private and insular and stupidly co-dependent until Jon shows up and effortlessly breaks down all their walls.

Wherein Brendon and Frank are Christmas elves who, inspired by Will Farrell movies, venture into the real world to become rock stars. Or something of that nature.

I’ve got a lot of love for this universe for various reasons, but it’s also fun and heartwarming and honestly, I don’t really need anything else.

14. A fic you’ve gushed about irl

Harry Potter and the Battle of Wills by Jocelyn (and her mum)

Harry Potter ** Mostly Gen ** 137,385 ** Basically PG-13 ** Character Death

Harry mourns his godfather as the war finally begins in earnest, bringing tragedy and new struggles for all those on the side of Good. If they hope to win, all quarrels must be set aside, new alliances must be forged, and Harry Potter must find the courage to face down dark wizards, his own emotions, and a destiny he did not choose. Snape blows his cover as a spy to save Harry from Voldemort.

This begins after Order of the Phoenix, and the story and characters read more like canon than any other HP fic I’ve read, so because of that and because it’s so, so good, I like to rec this one to people who are new to fandom.

15. A fic you associate with a place

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi

Harry Potter ** Harry/Draco ** 57,582 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

Wiltshire! I’ve never actually been there, but this author is really good about details. The story is also lovely and funny.

16. A fic that made you gasp out loud

Home is a Name by Arsenic

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 39,314 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

MCR Clinic of Love. Companion fic to Wednesday Night Boys.

Okay, so this one is actually a sequel, and the first installment, Wednesday Night Boys, should 100% be read first. It must be said, though, that while the sequel doesn’t have any warnings, Wednesday Night Boys is about the Panic! kids as prostitutes, and has warnings for graphic violence, rape/non-con, and underage sex. The MCR guys work at the free clinic, and Home is a Name focuses on them. They’re honestly both gorgeous stories.

17. A fic you found at the right time

real or not real by thearkdelinquents

Anne with an E ** Anne/Gilbert ** 11,587 ** PG ** No Warnings

“I could do it.” Gilbert said, looking straight ahead.

Anne stopped. “What?”

He turned to look at her; they were just outside Green Gables now. “I could do it. I could court you.”

“What- We- You- I- You don’t like me like that.” Anne sputtered.

Gilbert smirked at her. “Well we could pretend. I could court you and be your fake boyfriend.”

For one of the few times in her life, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was speechless.

a fake dating fic but it's basically just a shirbert To All The Boys I Loved Before au.

I really, really loved Anne with an E. When the final season was released, I spent a weekend binge-watching the entire show, and then it was over and I was bereft, so I decided to see what was available on Ao3, and I found this, and it was exactly what I needed. And now I have another fandom.

18. A fic that you would read fic of

Left by lifeonmars

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 45,153 ** Mature ** No Warnings

John Watson is left-handed.

He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.

In this universe, all right-handed people have some kind of power, or ‘knack’, most of which are mild and easily categorized. Sherlock’s is rare and believed to be the only one like it in the world. John is left-handed, part of the 10% of the population without a knack. I would read all kinds of fics of this fic.

19. A fic that made you laugh out loud

What to do When Your Flatmate is Homicidal by hyacinth_sky747

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 58,650 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Sherlock takes Molly's advice when dealing with his dangerous flatmate.

Heartwarming and hilarious. I laughed a lot.

20. A fic with a line (or two) that you’ve memorised by heart

A Necessary Requirement by Bexless

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 3,759 ** Mature ** No Warnings

Right, here is the extremely silly storylet I wrote BY HAND on holiday. On PAPER. With a PEN. My god. The things I do when I'm separated from my beloved net. It is set during the Summer of Like (Warped '05, for those of you who don't know) and is basically a product of my reaction to various pictures of Gerard groping himself on stage, which led to me obsessing about his dick and what it might look like. As usual, I chose to work this obsession out through Frank.

This fic could have gone to multiple other squares, but I am not usually the kind of person who can quote lines from things, and I have many lines from this story committed to memory. I’ve read it multiple times, because I read it every time I need a pick-me-up or a good laugh. Or if I’ve read something scary and I need something lighter before I can actually get up and move around my house...

21. A fic that gave you butterflies

Pretty Much A Sex God by adellyna

Bandom ** Spencer/Jon ** 3,985 ** PG-13 ** No Warnings

Jon and Spencer’s first date.

The Jon in this story is so soft and warm and fluffy and his character makes my heart and stomach do weird things.

22. A fic that embodies something you value in life

A Marauder’s Plan by CatsAreCool (Rachel500)

Harry Potter ** Harry/Hermione ** 865,520 ** PG13 ** Violence/Death/Underage

What if Sirius decided to stay in England and deliver on his promise to raise Harry instead of hiding somewhere sunny? Changes abound with that one decision...

ALSO

Harry’s New Home by kbinnz

Harry Potter ** Gen ** 318,389 ** PG-13 ** Abuse

One lonely little boy. One snarky, grumpy git. When the safety of one was entrusted to the other, everyone knew this was not going to turn out well... Or was it? AU, sequel to "Harry's First Detention".

In these two stories, Sirius and Severus throw everything they have into creating the best possible world for Harry, as he is their number one priority, because that is exactly how parenthood should be.

23. A favourite AU

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 156,714 ** Explicit ** No Warnings

Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?

This has got quite a bit of schmoop, which isn’t usually my thing, but this story is so, so good, and I always love stories that describe Sherlock realizing and appreciating how extraordinary John is.

24. A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading

Collared by VelvetMace

Sherlock ** Sherlock/John ** 83,028 ** Explicit ** Violence & Rape/Non-Con

In a world where the British Empire is still strong and slavery is her economic backbone, John has become a terrorist for the abolitionist movement. He is caught by Mycroft, enslaved, and given to Sherlock for training. The goal: To test a new kind of slave collar with the power to break even the strongest willed fighter. One that will make even John learn to love being a slave.

Dubious consent, and humiliation. I remember staying up very late reading this one, even though I had to work early the next morning. I just couldn’t put it down.

25. A fic that made you feel seen

Buy Handmade by jjtaylor

Bandom ** Frank/Gerard ** 18,755 ** Mature ** No Warnings

He knows something else is going to happen; his life isn't always going to be this. He just doesn't know what has to happen for that change to come, for him to wake up and become an artist with an Etsy page and a home studio, and to never have to see a cubicle again.

This is the story of my heart. I have felt Frankie’s feelings and thought his thoughts, and I love that he does something about it, and I love Gerard so, so much. I first read this in 2009, and my love for it has never wavered. I could have used this one for a good half of the bingo squares, but it’s the only one that could go here.

#fic rec bingo #bandom #sherlock #harry potter #anne with an e

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ketchupcrisp · 5 years ago

Text

Pepper and Clint

Here’s the #AskStrange vision of Chapter 21′s conversation between Pepper and Clint.

Pepper paced the entrance to Avengers Tower until one of the security guards on duty, a twenty-something army vet named Henry who had been invalided out after an injury to his left leg, came out to gently inquire if she was actually going to enter the building or not.

“It’s just, you keep triggering the automatic doors, Ms. Potts, and Mr. Thompson has to stand up every time and he has a pretty bad hip, see, and—”

“Of course, Henry, I’m sorry. Yes, I’m coming in. I just needed to work myself up to it, i guess.”

“I feel that way about seeing Director Rogers some days too, Ms. Potts,” Dylan confided in a conspiratorial whispers. “He’s a very kind man, but still he’s…well, Captain America.”

Captain America was rather the least of Pepper’s worries, but the real source of her anxiety wasn’t exactly something she could share with one of the Tower guards, so she nodded in what she hoped came across like a commiserating way.

Having actually entered the building, Pepper thought she was through the worst of the stress. Once she decided on a path, she usually didn’t struggle to remain committed to it. Then a red-faced and furious Clint Barton met her at the penthouse elevator.

Of all the Avengers, Clint was the one she would have expected such a cool welcome from the least. He always seemed so easy-going and calm, particularly when compared to the many higher strung members of the team. But there was nothing relaxed about the way he towered over Pepper, leaving her just enough room to step out of the elevator without getting caught in the doors. The use of physical intimidation, even if unintentional, was galling, especially given the garbage she was facing at SI. She deliberately stepped into his space, crossing her arms.

“This isn’t a good time.” (Yeah, no kidding.) Pepper glanced passed him, seeking and finding Tony sprawled across the couch. There was something she couldn’t quite place about his body language, and sure it was odd that he didn’t at least shout a hello to her himself, but if Tony was here and clearly available, it seemed like nothing but a territorial power play that Clint was attempting to refuse her entry.

“Well that’s unfortunate, Clint. Really unfortunate. I do know something about shitty times, as the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation. And so does Tony, actually, so I could really use his help with this.”

“Pepper, we’re in the middle of…”

“What, watching Cupcake Wars?”

“Aftercare,” he hissed. Surprise and worry and frustration and about a dozen other responses left Pepper momentarily stunned. Since when was Tony subbing for these people? Could he even sub, when last she’d heard the entire issue was that he didn’t fit into the orientational classification of their universe? Pepper did not like being surprised. Pepper especially did not like being surprised when it came to Tony Stark. She had trusted one version of him to these people years ago; she’d had little choice, with Tony practically half-dead from sub-dep and Pepper herself unable to assist him. And then, as the Avengers had begun to provide for more and more of Tony’s needs, he and Pepper had fallen away from one another. It had been gradual, so slow that she thought she was imagining it at first. There hadn’t been a fight, no dramatic scene on one of their parts. They’d just begun to call one another less; then her visits to the Tower became more infrequent, and focused on business. Before Tony had died, they hadn’t spoken in weeks, and her first thought when she’d heard the news was how much she regretted allowing the distance to grow between them, so that she couldn’t even remember the last meaningful thing they’d talked about.

It wasn’t going to happen again. She didn’t know everything that had gone on between this Tony and his own version of her, but Pepper knew they had been close. He still looked at her like the other Tony had in the early years of their friendship, with so much admiration and open affection, but also a hint of regret. Like maybe there were things about their relationship he wished he could erase as much as Pepper yearned to have fought more to keep Tony in her life.

“I am genuinely sorry to interrupt a development I had no way of knowing about. And I can try to make this quick, but you also know that if you force me to leave he is not going to take it well, regardless of what headspace he’s in.” Clint glared, but probably more for the sake of it than anything else. He knew she was right.

“We need to have a conversation some time soon about boundaries. You can’t just—”

“Yeah, I think there are several things we should say to each other,” she snapped. Clint turned back to glance at Tony, and for just a few seconds his features softened, frustration morphing into concern and something almost resembling awe. And that, far more than his attempts to make her feel unwelcome, made her flush with guilt.

Still half-focused on Tony, the other man finally stepped backward several paces, allowing Pepper to make her way into the penthouse proper.

“You have no idea how sorry I am to disturb you both, Tony, truly.”

#AskStrange #interactive fic #you great unfinished symphony (you sent for me)#AskStrange live

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