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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

temerity

― the perfect job for an overworked, tired, and romantic you is obviously a stressful, demanding, but oh so aesthetic coffeeshop. your job only becomes better when a handsome redhead appears through the door with a loud bang, and you can do nothing but fall for him. or the five times kirishima orders coffee and the one time he doesn’t.

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, fluff, light angst, pining, coffee shop!au, modern!au, college!au, happy ending, five times he did and one time he didn’t trope

word count: 9,394

a/n: happy birthday to my beautiful love @ikinabi!!!! this was written for you based off of your favorite tropes including your favorite word, bet you saw this coming a mile away because my interrogation for this was absolute ass. also sorry for the angst, I couldn’t help myself! for the rest of you non-reds, this was a pretty damn fun piece to write. kirishima was modeled after how red sees him too, sorry. I haven’t typed that much in a single sitting in a long time, so it was p refreshing. like always, enjoy and leave a comment if you enjoyed ;-; (oh and thank you all for kiri coffee taste suggestions)

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O N E

Working in a small coffee shop isn’t exactly what you had once thought it to be.

For years you had been attending the small coffee shop just by your university. Most of your studying, homework, and late-night mental breakdowns had taken place in the corner of the shop, hidden from the sight of the patrons, which was conventionally the best spot for the strongest wifi.

You had been there so many times, having tried every single drink on their menu, and had gotten to know every worker there ― including the owners. So when the invitation to work there was brought up the one night you showed up in hysterics because you had lost your other job, it shouldn’t have taken you by surprise.

So now, in your final year of university, you stood at the counter. A textbook cracked open near the register light, the gentle coffee shop tunes playing merrily in the background. The intricate, familiar, and distinguished smell of both fresh and aging coffee beans with day-old pastries soaked deep into every centimeter of the room.

The coffee shop was typically slow at this time at night, most people, thankfully, choosing to keep their caffeine addictions primarily in the mornings. Or, as a student had once confessed, didn’t want to make your job more demanding, so they made their own caffeinated drink this late at night. Regardless, it didn’t matter; the morning and afternoon crowds at this coffee shop were busy enough for you to be grateful for this downtime, especially as midterm season was beginning to approach. With this upcoming season, you knew you would be pouring liters of coffee down red-eyed, broken-spirited, college students' throats in the coming days.

Humming, you flipped the page of your biochem textbook, information on amino acids and protein structure twisting in your mind. At the same time, you tried to absorb the chaotic, overflowing amount of information presented on a single page. With a pen to your lip, you frowned at the sentence, rereading phrases over and over again as you struggled to figure out just why Hydrogen formation was so important.

That didn’t last for too long, fortunately.

For when you were about to scream to your coworker who was hiding away in the backroom about how amino acids could go fuck themselves, the front door slammed open.

Despite the wooden door being extremely, almost stupidly heavy (to the point where there was a sign that clearly read: YES WE ARE OPEN, THE DOOR IS JUST REALLY HEAVY, outside), it crashed into the wall, causing a loud smack to rattle the shop. You, having been so absorbed in your studies, jumped at the sound. Your body flinched as a surprised shriek left your lips.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry! It said the door was heavy, but I didn’t think it would slam open like that!” came an apologetic and obviously embarrassed voice from the entrance.

Your heart was pounding with adrenaline. You focused your attention on the man who was frantically checking potential damages to both the door and the wall. All while he continued to apologize.

Red hair and red eyes are the first things you noticed about him.

Red hair that obviously was dyed, red, warm eyes seemed smooth and seemed to melt into sugary brown, and a rather large scar over his right eye that stopped just at his eyebrow. His smile was broad, exceedingly bright, albeit stiff.

Despite your pumping blood and the way that your fingertips tingle with your fear, a smile and laugh pressed to your lips as he fumbled to close the door behind him (although it was nearly closed by the time he fumbled for the metal brass door handle). Pushing up off the counter from where you were lying, you shut the textbook you had, waving off the new customer.

“No worries! Most people either overcompensate or can’t open the door at all,” you explained with a pinching smile, the laughter in your tone so noticeable despite your intent to keep your humor hidden. Your smile and softly thudding heart only seemed to increase stupidly as the red-headed man approached the cash register.

He was dressed horribly.

He wore an orange gym shirt, most definitely worn with age, and a bit too small on his… physique, navy blue basketball shorts that had white stripes on the side of his thigh, and black athletic crew socks with bright red crocs.

A living, walking fashion disaster.

“Um,” you stifled a teasing snort, “what can I get for ya?”

The man (was he a himbo? he seemed like he could be one through his appearance alone!) crossed his arms across his chest, lower lip jutting out as he read the menu under his breath with curious, wide eyes. His head tilted to the side, his gaze seemingly stuck on a single area of the menu, and with all the curiosity of the world weighing down on you at this one, very moment, you turned behind you.

“Anything catching your eye?”

“This is… uh, this is my first time in here,” he admitted, his gaze falling from the menu, catching your own eye when you turned back around to face him. His eyes were wide, clear as they were alarmingly honest; he paused for a bit before eventually adding, “actually.”

“Well,” you began, your own honest smile brightening on your face, “lucky for you, I’ve tried everything on this menu. Pick your poison, I can tell you what everything tastes like.”

His eyes widen in what you can only recognize as being overwhelmed, but you try to hide the way your smile is turning into a smirk when he begins to list out drinks.

Drink after drink he names, most of them being dark, black, bitter-tasting coffees, and you can see some hesitation in him with each name he lists.

“You don’t seem to know what kinda coffee you like, huh?” you eventually point out once he’s had you repeat the entire menu for the dark roasts the shop had.

“That would be embarrassing if it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve never had coffee in my life before,” he laughed partially in embarrassment, but much more in some underlying mirth and energy, he seemed to easily hold. Energy that seemed to warm your chest more than any cup of coffee on a cold morning. “I’m what you could call a coffee virgin.”

Now that got a snort out of you.

“Okay, coffee virgin,” you teased, immediately grabbing a kids' throwaway cup behind the counter. “You should’ve started with that!”

“I didn’t want to come off as uncultured! I mean, I’m down at the university, the uni down the street, I’m a university student myself! But being twenty-one and never having coffee before? It just seems… I don’t know so unmanly!”

All while he was confessing the reason as to why he had never in his life had a single cup of coffee, you had poured the simmering black coffee that he was most interested in into the cup. It was filled with only a small amount of the black, bitter liquid, just enough to give him a good taste of the drink. Placing the kids' cup in front of him with a satisfactory thunk, you grinned up at him.

His hand was pressed to the back of his neck, an almost shameful look on his face with just the smallest blush brightening his cheeks and ear tips.

“I think it’s cool you’re a uni student without a coffee addiction,” you smile earnestly, pressing the kids' cup closer to him. “Shows a different kind of man that you’re able to handle a workload without a caffeine drip.”

If you didn’t know better (and honestly, you didn’t, you were probably projecting the weird stranger crush you had seamlessly formed on him), you would have said he forgot how to speak. He clears his throat, his embarrassment fading into a small, soft smile, and he picks up the cup.

“Thank you for the sample.”

He takes a drink of the warm liquid, and immediately he seems to crush the paper cup in his hand, a suppressed hysteric of coughing spluttering past his fisted hand on his mouth, tears springing into his eyes. You yelped in surprise, hands fluttering out to smack him on the arm in a failed attempt to reach his back.

“O-Oh my god!” he eventually wheezed, his eyes staring down at the crushed cup as if it was some sort of vermin, a creature that had no use being alive but still pitied it. His other hand wiped at his lips as to rid of its taste. His head snapped back towards you, his eyes wet with betrayal from both his thoughts and taste buds. “Can you do something, not this at all?!”

You purse your lips for a second, thinking about just what could suit his apparent dislike for bitter, black coffee. With a single idea in your head, you leaned forward onto the counter, a smile back on your lips.

“Do you like cinnamon rolls?”

He blinked.

“Who doesn’t?”

“For here or to go?” you asked, head tilting to the side before you eventually remembered that the shop was closing in a few minutes. “Actually, it’ll be to go!”

“O-Oh, okay!”

“Can I get a name?” you asked, your hand grabbing the paper cup and a sharpie to write his name. There was no reason for you to write down his name; he was the only person in the shop right now.

“K-Kiripima,” he answers with wide eyes and red cheeks. Your eyebrows scrunch.

“Kiripima?”

“No! I’m, oh my god, this is so unmanly of me,” he bemoaned, his head shaking. “Kirishima Eijirou! I’m Kirishima Eijirou!”

The pealing laughter that erupted from your mouth stood no chance at being silenced. And so with an embarrassed nod of your own, you pressed off the counter, writing his name was the neatest writing you had, before setting off.

You worked fast behind the counter, making the specialized drink just for the blushing himbo of a man before you, well, at least until he interrupted your chain of thoughts and actions.

“Biochem, right?”

Placing the cup where the steamed milk machine was, you turned to look at Kiri(p)shima, who was pointing at your textbook with an all too familiar look on his face that told you he recognized it.

“Unfortunately,” you smiled at him, eventually shrugging. “I also go to the uni down the street.”

“Aw damn, sucks I’ve never seen you there before!” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck when he glances up at you from the textbook before looking back down. “I took this class last semester!”

“Oh? Who’d you have?” you asked, continuing on with your work, your suspicion of him being a himbo slightly dwindling.

“Chaney!” he responded, and you looked over at him; you had him this semester, too. “It was the worst! I dropped out the first week! Didn’t help that I thought biochem was a split biology and chemistry course… teaches me not to listen to Kaminari and Mina… ah, I mean, my friends!”

Himbo indeed.

Laughing at his flux in judgment, you placed the steaming cup of sweet, sweet coffee in front of Kirishima, hands pressing onto your hips as you did so.

“How about this?”

You watch as the redhead grins at you, picking up the cup of coffee and drinking it despite your last second squeak that it was probably way too hot to be consumed.

“HOLY SHIT! This is so much better! It tastes just like cinnamon rolls! Bro, you have some serious talent!” Kirishima yelled, his eyes not quite as bright, but his smile definitely still as warm. “How much will it be?”

“On the house,” you admitted with a shrug, your cheeks warming with his look of disbelief. “I took your, uh, coffee virginity away and nearly killed ya, it’s the least I could do!”

Kirishima narrows his gaze on you, his smile softening in tandem while he looks over at the menu again, taking another stiff sip of the coffee.

You watch as he takes his wallet out of his pocket, and with a little effort, pulls out two thousand yen.

“For the next few customers then, yeah?” he smoothly states, already moving back towards the door long before you could demand that he come back and take his money with him.

“Hey!” Kirishima yells, his hand had opened the heavy ass door with no problem or strain. “What's your name?”

“Why?!” you yelled back despite your instincts screaming at you to tell him your name.

His grin stretches so widely you take notice of his glinting, almost abnormally sharp canines from the counter.

“So, I know who to blame for my caffeine addiction!”

You laugh.

“Y/l/n y/n,” you smile, your stomach flipping at the way he seems to brighten with that information. “I promise that’s my real name too, no mess-ups.”

Kirishima laughs, red staining his face.

“Guess we can’t all be as amazing as you, huh?”

You didn’t get the chance to even scream in your fluster because he was already gone. The heavy wooden door closed by the time your coworker emerged from the back, an all too curious look on their face.

“What was that?”

You shrug, a smile stretching further on your face.

“Hopefully, a new regular.”

T W O

“Kiripima!”

If there was a way for you to not giggle at the way Kirishima nearly slammed the door through the wall in his shock embarrassment, you would have liked to know.

“My name is Kirishima, y/l/n!” he yelled back, his cheeks the same color as his spiked hair. “I mean, if you want to call me Kiripima, that’s okay! It’s just… my name is Kiri-shima!”

“Sorry, sorry, Kiripima was too cute to resist!” you admitted with a smirk, your body leaning forward, elbows pressed onto the counter, hands pressed against your cheeks. “What can I get for you so late at night, Kiri-shima?”

Kirishima smiles broadly, his hands sinking into his pockets as he walks over towards you and the counter. He’s dressed much more normally today, he wore black jeans that are slightly dirty with some sort of white powder, and his shirt is a crimson red. It’s tight against his biceps but fits him much better than the last shirt he wore, and on the fabric right above his heart, lays a simple print: FATGUM’S GRUB.

“Nightshift, unfortunately, finally caught me this week!” Kirishima sighs, his shoulder-shrugging but the smile remaining just as firmly on his face. “It’s no biggie, though; it’s for one of my bros who needed the night off!”

“Oh, so you’re an everyday hero?” you tease, enjoying the way that he grins wide enough to show off his sharp canines before it humbles into an embarrassed smile. “How manly of you.”

“Nothing anyone else wouldn’t do,” he mumbled, his gaze falling to your shoulder in his embarrassment.

“Alright, alright, if you say so,” you relent, sighing softly before straightening up and smiling up at the red-haired man who was busy taking in your menu once again with significant hesitation. “What can I get for you this time, Kirishima?”

Kirishima’s eyes glinted over, a laugh once again rumbling in his chest before he sighed, “What do you suggest for me, y/l/n?”

And so, at nearly ten p.m., you stood behind the cash register, Kirishima’s coffee long since given to him, and the two of you were intently talking, laughter and enthusiastic yelling being exchanged fervently.

You learned his name was Kirishima Eijirou; he was twenty-one years old, born and raised in Musutafu. You knew that while yes, he most definitely a himbo (something you confirmed with strategic questions, and not straight up asking him), he was an engineering major! He played a ton of sports but seemed to prefer heavy contact sports, rugby, and soccer being his top choice of sport. You even found out that this man (who often used the term manly in a way that meant ‘approved by Kirishima’) was the biggest fan of the old movies and comic book hero Crimson Riot. You figured this out when he pulled out his phone to show you a picture of his new goldfish and accidentally revealed his lock screen being him and the famous actor behind the superhero.

“You’re telling me you’ve NEVER seen an All Might movie, but you’ve seen ALL the Crimson Riot movies?!” Kirishima yelled, his arms shooting out past the counter to grab you by the shoulders, shaking you intensely with the biggest, goofiest smile on his face.

“Be careful with your coffee!” you squealed, trying to keep his elbow from knocking over his cup that had still gone untouched.

“Y/L/N!” he exasperated, pulling himself in closer to you, his eyes wide and bright, quickly drowning you with his radiant energy and overwhelming enthusiasm. “Answer!!!”

“Oh my god! Yes, Kirishima! I have never seen an All Might film but have seen every single Crimson Riot film!” you confess, your cheeks hurting from your laughter, and growing sense of embarrassment because everyone in the world has seen the All Might movies!

Hell, even people who weren’t from Japan had seen them all!

The movie superhero was a blockbuster smash with every movie they did!

“Why not?! How not?!”

“Because my dad never let me watch them growing up because the guide warnings,” you wheezed, your stomach cramping with your laughter, your hands grabbing onto his sturdy ― and holy fuck, were they sturdy ― biceps trying to ease his excited(???) shaking. “Besides, my dad is a hardcore Crimson Riot fan; he would have a heart attack and die if he heard that I went to go watch an All Might film.”

“Holy shit,” Kirishima breathed, a glazed over glee washing over his face in some euphoric bliss. “Your dad… is so manly, I think I could marry him.”

Your laughter only grew when Kirishima wiped tears from his eyes, and you patted his arm in your condolences.

“I think he would not take to someone claiming to be the biggest Crimson Riot fan!”

Kirishima grin only grew, “Bet he wouldn’t!”

You tilted your head, your smile becoming a bit lopsided, ready to take that bet right there, right now. You knew your dad was most definitely still awake at this time.

But the words never got to pass your mouth because as soon as you opened your mouth to speak, a loud ringtone interrupted you.

You also hated the fact that you recognized the ringtone to be the Crimson Riots theme song.

Kirishima’s warm hands pulled away from you, his overeagerness abandoned as he pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear without checking who was calling.

“It’s Ei, talk to me.”

The nickname of his first name caused your stomach to flip, his smooth baritone voice easily sending shivers down your spine. Still, with the mention of such an intimate nickname… the chill crawling down your spine, teasing every nerve in your system, was inevitable.

You watched Kirishima’s face. The way that he easily took in the words of whoever was on the other side of the line. The smile on his face remained if only muted just a bit as he agreed left and right with whoever was on the other side.

“Nah, I can get there in a few! Don’t worry about it, Fat, I normally show up early to shifts regardless, I don’t blame ya! Yeah, yeah, okay, yeah! Yeah! See ya soon!”

Disappointment blossomed in your chest, the horrible feeling of having to say goodbye to a customer who had only come in twice! Twice! Most times, you never wanted to see any customers, even some regulars, more than once in your lifetime! But again, there had been no other customer in your life as a barista that had been as kind, friendly, and hot as Kirishima.

“Well, I gotta go now,” Kirishima softly sighed, his lips pressing into a half-smile, his eyebrows scrunched together in his (maybe) reluctance to leave. “Fat, er, my boss, got overloaded with the late-night munchies, so…”

“Time for the fanboy to leave?” you finished for him, your fingers looping into your apron, your eyes glancing at the clock that showed you that you should’ve been cleaning up five minutes ago.

“Yeah, sadly!” Kirishima laughed, his hand grabbing the coffee and pocketing his phone as he made his way to the front door. You followed after him, ready to lock the door after him in case some desperate customer tried to come in. “Well, thank you for the coffee again! I gotta see just how much you know about the greatest superhero ever the next time I drop by!”

You smiled.

“Next time?”

Kirishima paused for a bit, “Yeah, next time!” he pushed through the front door, and you watched as he exited the shop, his body turning so he was looking at you while he walked backward. “I told ya, y/l/n, it's pretty unmanly of you, but you got me hooked on caffeine!”

There was no time for you to argue otherwise because he turned on his heel just as quickly and began jogging off to his own job.

“You’ll close up by yourself?” your bitchy coworker asked, and you startled, seeing that she was also pushing past the door. “You kept us over way later because you can’t stop flirting with the customers, which by the way, is against protocol.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, whatever, bye.”

T H R E E

“Next in line, please!”

It was busy.

As you had once thought many, many weeks ago, the midterm season had finally come with full force, and it was horrible. There were at least four crying college students found in any of the studying rooms the shop had from sun up to sundown. Some of the students were found soaking their tears onto the worn leather sofa, some moments from dying on the plenty of counters and tables.

On multiple days there had been students who stayed the entire day, drinking whole pots worth of black coffee when they were ordinarily sweet coffee drinkers. You had to give some freshmen girl a tight hug the other day who was seconds from taking a W on her transcripts because she absolutely could no longer handle her math class. You had the unfortunate time of giving a student the news that no, today was not Thursday, it’s Friday, so yes… they missed their midterm for a professor who would refuse to reschedule any missed exam.

But it wasn’t all too bad.

Kirishima had been showing up practically every day now; he would order a pastry every time, opting out of a drink by showing you his three-liter water bottle. It was nice to have someone like Kirishima around (partially because you usually worked with a younger coworker,) who was both strong and sweet. He wasn’t majorly concerned about his midterms, stating that he had study groups with his friends and had been on top of his game and only came to the coffee shop to do light personal studying. So, during your mad dashes to make the 2,783rd cup of coffee within your shift, you couldn’t help but glance over at Kirishima, who was comforting crying students. When they weren’t crying, and you weren’t desperately trying to appease the caffeine raged customers, he chatted with you, seated on the counter by the coffee counter.

Having him around so much was actually both making your day better and much, much worse. On the one hand, that meant that since you were paired up with coworkers you didn’t get along with, you had a fantastic company that literally made the nights go by so fast as you and he became closer and closer friends. But, on the other hand, it also made your once attraction to him, having been solely based on physical looks to bleed over to personal traits, and you wanted to cry with every poor attempt of flirting that flew over his head.

However, you did get to learn that 1. he did, in fact, dye his hair red because you had the privilege of seeing his black roots. And that 2. despite his phone being filled with the craziest metal and rock songs, he really only listened to a playlist buried in his phone that was filled with soft acoustic guitar and sweet bubblegum pop songs. It was great.

But it was no time to think about your tall, red-headed crush. You had much more pressing issues with the large coffee crowd in front of you. It was rush hour, and since you were scheduled for tonight's shift, they asked if you wanted more hours for today since they were training someone new.

Obviously, you had agreed.

You had forgotten the horrors of rush that included sleep-deprived, caffeine-infused insanity of students coupled with the ever-demanding adults with jobs that they very much needed to return too. It was always horrific.

But you for sure never expected to see your crush before you.

“Kiri!” you smiled, the smile on your face was one of pure exhaustion and joy of seeing your friend crush. Your gaze quickly dropped away from him, your eyes returning to the paper cups you held, writing in their orders and name as quickly as you could. “How can I help you?”

Kirishima visibly gulped, and you froze a bit before setting down the large order on the counter for your coworkers to eventually get to. You knew by the pile-up on orders you would be switched out with the new hire after Kirishima and the person behind him.

“I, uh, I need to ask you something!” Kirishima spoke sharply, his arms stiff at his side. His usual kind and gentle smile on his face is mechanic and dull. He was… he was sweating? Pity filled your stomach; maybe he had done terribly on a midterm.

“Do you need a new coffee rec?” you immediately ask your mind on the set menu behind you, trying to come up with a coffee just sweet enough for the charming man in front of you. “You haven’t had a drink in a while, I don’t remember what you had last, though.”

“No, not that! I have a… well, I have a confession!” Kirishima tries again, his body somehow becoming even stiffer as he nods his head in growing speeds. “Yup! A confession!”

“Would ya hurry it up, kid! Some of us got work to get to!” came a crabby voice from behind Kirishima, and you winced, looking past your crush to the eldering man who looked like he was eating and shitting stress every day for the past three years.

“Sir, please calm down, it won’t take too long,” you frowned, not at all happy with the sheer impatience of the customer. You turned back to Kirishima, an apologetic look on your face. “But a confession? Okay, well, actually… I have one for you as well!” Maybe you could get yourself to confess you liked him?

But the old man’s interruption seemed to have calmed Kirishima down significantly, who snapped out of his haze.

“Sorry, sorry!” he apologized to the man behind him, bowing deeply for his troubles before facing you again and laughed. The palm of his hand hit his forehead as he groaned lowly. “Sorry, this is so unmanly of me, y/l/n! I mean, I shouldn’t even be doing this because you’re working, but I finally… I just…”

He trailed off, and you found it impossible to follow his train of thought, something you weren’t too bad at doing.

“Just what?”

It was with that the world seemed to still.

The noise of the busy coffee shop, the hustling of your coworkers, the chattering of the studying students, and business calls going mute as you stared up into Kirishima’s red, comprehensive, honest eyes.

“Well, it’s just that I, um, I--”

“Listen, kid,” the man behind Kirishima snapped at him. “I have twelve minutes to gather my drink and make it back to my meeting with my executive board. And you’re holding up the damn fucking line! Make up your mind on what coffee you want, because you’ve been in this line with me for almost ten minutes, order it and pay! Let’s get moving!”

“Sir!” you gasped, horrendously mortified a customer was acting like that! “That’s incredibly rude! He hasn’t even been here for a minute!”

“It’s actually been three!” he sneered.

You opened your mouth to retaliate, not at all positive if it had been three minutes because by god did you get lost in Kirishima’s eyes.

“No!” Kirishima interrupted you before you could begin, and you looked up at Kirishima, who looked like a kicked puppy, and that sent your heart into a whole series of palpitations you didn’t know would happen with him. “It’s fine, sorry, I got worked up… um… one of my best bros likes his coffee black, and well, I like it now too. A regular black coffee, to go…”

You didn’t even get a chance to say anything, Kirishima slipping the exact amount of money for the drink before disappearing into the crowd.

Your sight narrowed when it befell onto the old man who looked proud of himself, “Finally! Now, let me see what you guys have! I don’t know what I want!”

F O U R

Kirishima was late.

So late, so very, very late.

He checked his phone for the time yet again, somehow praying that in the last time he had checked his phone (which had been three seconds ago), the time hadn’t shot forward by ten minutes, and by the spirit of god had maybe, possibly rewound by ten minutes. He only hoped that he wouldn’t show up too late today; he actually needed something with caffeine to keep him awake today.

But he saw the coffee shop straight ahead, the small white light by the front door still buzzing and bright with the illuminated: OPEN! sign. Kirishima barreled through the front door with now practiced and known strength, his forehead sweating profusely, and his heart hammering in his throat.

“I’m… here!” he panted, his eyes finding yours as you were cleaning up the counter with a disinfecting liquid and cloth.

He had seen you yesterday, but still, seeing you at the counter, your gaze on what you were doing was like an arrow to his lungs. He looked at you in his personal slowed downtime, the way that the halo of frizzy, curly, flyaways from your hair gleamed softly with the backlight, the warmth of your skin, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes as you looked up, and he was met with the depth pool of your warm eyes.

Beautiful.

His eyes fell onto your lips, and noticed they were moving ever so slightly, and he realized that he couldn’t hear what you were saying.

All the tables had been wiped down, the chairs by the table turned upside down, laying on the tabletops. The floor still streaked with what was definitely a mop, and guilt bubbled in his stomach. You were closing up, and by the looks of it, were nearly done as well.

Kirishima paused, he was here one minute before closing, and he froze. The heavy wooden door closing behind him with an awkwardly loud thud that only seemed to thunder in his ears as the world finally caught up.

“―anything?”

Kirishima blinked, his cheeks exploding with heat.

“What?”

He hadn’t heard you utter a single word.

He watched the way your lips pulled into an endearing, yet slightly exasperated smile, your eyes rolling.

“Did you want anything?” you repeated, hands placed on your hips in a taunting, near commanding way. “Coffee’s still on the pot, so if you want anything, let me know!”

“Did you already clean up?” Kirishima asks, his eyes falling to the floor to find the different wet streaks on the tile and avoid them if his shoe was dirty. He stops when he sees the cleaned and cleared coffee counter, and guilt floods him. “It looks like you’re mostly cleaned up; I don’t want you to get things dirty again, it’s okay.”

“It’ll take me five minutes tops to clean back up!” you retort, hands already moving to grab a to-go cup for him to have.

“No, no!” Kirishima exclaims, moving back towards the door as fast as he could. He didn’t want to cause you more work, and if anything, he would just wait for you to leave the shop, and he would simply walk you back to your apartment! That seemed like the more manly thing to do, right? “It’s okay! I’m okay! I’ll live without a cup!”

You snorted, slamming the cup onto the counter with definitive intentions, “Don’t be ridiculous, coffee addict!” you pointed to the spot before the cash register, pen in hand as you readied to write down his order. “Come. Don’t be silly! Can you turn off the open sign for me, though! What do you want?”

“I feel bad,” Kirishima frowns, turning off the neon light per request before turning back towards you. His hands stuffed into his pockets. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I don’t have to,” you say with a grin and a roll of your eyes. “But since I’m the reason your addiction is a thing, I’m more than happy to deal with the consequences, Kiri.”

There’s a beat, and Kirishima walks to the counter, his lower lip jutted out in a small pout, but the energetic smile painted on your lips melts his pout into a smile immediately.

“What do you suggest?”

“Café de Olla.”

His face scrunches at the so, very not Japanese words that come from your mouth.

“Cafe de la what?”

He watches your smile brighten by a tenfold, enjoying the way your eyes easily glitter with your mirth as you turn away from him.

“Café de Olla,” you repeat again, and he can only assume it’s Spanish. “It’s a Mexican coffee, that one of the transfer students we hired from Mexico introduced us to!” Kirishima watched as you went to a small pot of coffee, put a cleaned ladle in, and eventually poured in a slightly steaming cup of dark coffee. “I can’t remember the ingredients, but the main one is cinnamon! I know you like cinnamon, and since you’re a big boy black coffee drinker now, I think you’ll like it!”

Kirishima missed the teasing look on your face when you placed the truly dark coffee in front of him.

“Um,” Kirishima nervously laughed, staring at the cup of dark liquid before him. He hated black coffee. “Are you… are you gonna put any sugar or milk in it?”

“Nope! Drink up, handsome!”

Kirishima whimpered at both the nickname you had been calling him as of late and the coffee before him. Eventually, he picked up the warm cup, not at all deceived by the warm, sweet aroma of the cup of coffee in his hand ― the black coffee had smelled sweet too. Not one to back down, especially as you were in the process of cleaning up for the day, he took a hesitant, gentle sip of the coffee and froze.

Despite the bitter, dark persona the steaming cup gave, the liquid was sweet.

Very sweet.

It was light in its spice, warming him gently, and giving him a world of flavors he hadn’t been aware of. He drank the rest of it eagerly.

“Good, right?!” you exclaimed excitedly, having caught onto what Kirishima already knew to be his unmistakable likeness. “I wasn’t too sure of it at first either! I mean, I don’t really dabble with straight black coffee, but this just hits differently!”

Kirishima placed his sample down, the back of his hand rubbing his wet lips, his smile wide and excited. He couldn’t believe he actually liked a cup of coffee! “That was SO good, fuck! I didn’t think I was going to like that! Can I have a cup of this?”

He watched as you nodded your head excitedly, more stray pieces of hair falling out of place, framing your face even more as you grabbed the cup and made due to filling it up. Kirishima watched you the entire time you filled his cup up, his fingers blindly holding his bills of cash to give to you.

‘I’m going to do it,’ he thought as you placed a lid on the cup.

‘You got this!’ he encouraged himself as you walked over, handing off the warm cup into his hands. He softly smiled at the feeling of your warm, soft fingers brushing familiarly against his own.

‘DO IT!’

“Y-Y/l/n―”

“Babycakes, are you done out here?!” a voice hollered, and Kirishima stilled when a face emerged from the back. “I’m exhausted and ready to go!”

He watched as a tall girl with green eyes and brown hair emerged from the back room, her arms stretched precariously over her head, stepped into the bar. And the world slowed when her arms quickly enveloped you.

It was then that he remembered what you had said yesterday. The way that your face morphed from apologetic to bashful, the fluster in your eyes, and the way you bit your lip nervously as you said you had something to confess to him… was she… your confession?

“Ami!” you spluttered, and Kirishima watched the way the girl who was draped over your body, much taller than you were, smile at you endearingly as you, in your fluster, failed to get her off. “Kirishima ― a customer is here!”

The word customer echoed like a bell in the world's deepest cave in Kirishima’s ear.

He was just…

He was just a customer, after all.

His smile faded from a genuine one to a phony one as he watched your coworker/girlfriend fight you on showing affection, and eventually, you won.

“S-Sorry about that!” you stammered, trying to fix your outfit, your hair chaotically was undone. His throat nearly sealed off when your pristine eyes locked back up his; he felt light under your gaze, but oh, so, cold. “You were saying?”

“Just… um, thank you!” Kirishima mustered a feeble laugh, his hand grabbing the coffee in his hand, and without so much as a goodbye, he left the coffee shop. Your echoing salutation doing nothing but making him nauseous as heartbreak overtook him.

F I V E

The last time you had seen Kirishima, you served him the café de olla during that night, which was weeks ago.

By weeks you meant nearly two months; finals season had just finished.

Despite your obvious disappointment in not seeing the one person you were enamored with, you reasoned with yourself with every disappointing redhead who would enter the coffeeshop that you had never asked for his phone number, and he was an engineering student. He had to be busy.

Even if he wasn’t busy, you tried to reason, your brow set in a knit position as you washed the ceramic cups in the sink, he had every reason to never show back up again. He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything…

Thankfully, you heard the all too familiar sound of the front door being opened, and now with new company policy, you called out in greetings.

“Welcome!”

You quickly patted your hands dry on your apron, knowing that your coworker was on break at the moment, and turned to the entrance of the shop, and froze.

It was an all too familiar head of bright red spikes.

“Kiri!” you exclaimed happily, rushing over to the register with a bright, wide smile as you restrained yourself from flinging over the counter and hugging him tightly. Of course, that would have been both unprofessional and probably pushing the boundaries of your friendship/one-sided affections. “It’s been so long, how are you?!”

Kirishima stood on the other side of the counter, his hands shoved into his blue hoodie pocket, his eyes for the first time ever almost empty, the smile you knew he wore almost religiously, nowhere to be seen. In lieu of the smile, were lips pressed into a stout line, his face puckered just slightly enough as if he had smelled something sour moments before.

What was going on?

“You okay?” you ask, your once outstretched arms retracting into yourself, seeing that he was not reciprocating your movements. Your head tilted. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, Ei,” came a new voice. “Is something wrong?”

You almost startled when a girl with curly, pink hair seemed to appear from behind Kirishima. She had eyes of liquid gold, and a teasing smile on her face as she nudged Kirishima. “What’s going on?”

Your stomach flips in unwelcomed jealousy, your teeth biting the inside of your cheek in hopes that the girl wouldn’t catch on.

When the seconds felt like minutes of silence, the girl merely sighed, her attention focusing onto you with a look of slight mischief.

“Please excuse my friend―” you relax with the f word― “we’ve been friends since grade school, and he’s never been like that! Maybe he caught a bug during breakfast?”

“Mina…” Kirishima spoke softly, not quite a warning, not quite a whine.

“You must be the famous ‘y/l/n,’ I’ve heard so much about you!” the girl ― Mina ― exclaimed excitedly, her hands grabbing yours while nodding excitedly. “When I heard that Ei hadn’t gone for coffee in so long, I obviously had to force him to come! That and he totally made one of our friends throw away my coffee, and I need the coffee in my bloodstream to survive my dumb classes!”

The one-sided tension between you and Mina expelled quickly.

“Kiri hasn’t been here in a while, but I’m sure he’s got his reasons,” you defend your crush, your smile soft as you traded your locked gaze on Mina to look at Kirishima, who weakly, barely, horribly returned the smile. “But I can definitely help with the coffee! What can I get for you?”

“Good question…” Mina sighed, her eyes studying the menu with practiced skill.

Eventually, Mina ordered a chai tea latte with an oat milk substitution, a pump of caramel, and two shots of espresso. She squealed with delight when you placed her order in front of her, and maybe had you not been excited to get Kiri’s answer, you would have noticed the way his friend strategically walked towards the door to give you two your space.

“So, how can I help ya, handsome?” you ask, your smile back to full power, although a bit shy, unaffected by the brick wall of a man before you. “We’re out of the café de olla right now, but if you don’t mind waiting fifteen minutes, I can make you a fresh batch!”

That’s a lie, the pot of Mexican coffee is still completely filled, ready for Kirishima should he want it. But you were selfish; you were trying to get him to stay longer.

“Nah, that’s okay,” Kirishima shakes his head. “I don’t wanna bug ya. I’ll just take a caramel latte, no worries.”

Disappointment rams through you, but you try your best at hiding it.

“Oh, okay! I’ll get that started for you!” you try to chirp, grabbing a to-go cup and beginning the relatively short task. “How’ve you been?” you ask, trying to initiate old conversations.

“Good.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear! How were your finals? Mine was terrible! I had a professor who forgot what time section we were, so not only were we given only thirty minutes to finish the exam, but there was no compensation for his mistake!”

“Wow… that sucks. Mine were fine.”

“Nothing crazy happened?”

“No.”

“Um, okay… well, did you see that the animated Crimson Riot movie is out?!” you ask, pathetically hopeful that the biggest conversation card you held right now would give you something better than these simple, halfhearted responses. The movie had had no promos, just a message from the local theaters that it had been made and to come and watch it.

“Yup.”

…

“Oh, that’s cool! I just found out this morning when my dad called me! I’m not near home, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come and watch it with me?”

You froze. Was that a date you had asked him out on? It was, wasn’t it?! Your face exploded with heat, your fingers trembling as you poured the finished hot coffee into the cup.

“...I’d rather not.”

Oh.

“T-That’s okay! I’m sure I can find a friend or something to go watch it with me… or I’ll just wait until a holiday to see it with my dad… if it’s still out.”

“Hopefully, it’s still out by then,” Kirishima muttered, his face refusing to look at you, his eyes buried into his wallet as he handed you the change for his drink. “Thanks.” he rushed, grabbing his cup and turning on his heel.

“What’s wrong with you?” you manage to ask before you can keep your mouth shut, but you can’t help it. Your chest aches with his dismissal, with every sentence he spoke that horribly and effectively shut you down before you even had a chance. In the end, it seemed that your hurt feelings won out your need to be polite. “Did something happen? A-Are you okay? Did I do something?”

Kirishima freezes in his path.

“No, nothing happened.”

That was not the answer you were hoping to get.

“Then why are you acting like this?” you ask, your voice bordering a desperate plea for an answer.

For the past many weeks, you had never once thought that he had been avoiding you, ignoring you. You thought that maybe he had just been busy with his personal life, too busy with school and work to spare his free time entertaining you at work. But even if you were disillusioned with your admiration and feelings for him, you knew the two of you were friends. You had to have been friends!

Silence.

“What’s going on?” you ask again, your voice feeling small and weak.

“Nothing,” Kirishima reiterates, his head turning so you both looked at each other through the corner of his eyes. “Nothing happened, I just… couldn’t show up.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like being around you, not anymore.”

Those words wash over you like freezing water; they’re harsh, cruel, and mean. His face twisting up as if he was some snarling, upset animal. He didn’t want to be here, his face screamed, he felt like some cornered, caged animal.

Muted anger and heartache wash over you, your head nodding numbly as you laugh humorlessly. You had been the problem.

“Sorry for… for making you feel obligated in showing up,” you whisper, your soul feeling as though it was leaving your body, your face twisted in the horribleness in his words.

I don’t like being around you, not anymore.

He wasn’t even apologizing… he’d meant it… didn’t he?

Kirishima moves to walk away, his eyes glazed over similarly to your own, but you’re not done. Not quite yet.

“You know,” you manage to speak out, your voice starting off paltrily, an almost chuckle tickling the back of your throat, humming deeply in your chest. He stops. “This entire time, you always boasted about being ‘manly’… about being chivalrous and a decent human being. For the most part, I’ve always agreed and thought that you were manly, chivalrous, and a more than decent human being but now… I can’t believe you. You really came all this way after two months of avoiding me to tell me that you would never be showing up again? That the reason for you not returning was because you’re sick of me?”

He’s silent for a bit, and it's then you notice the tears falling down your face, “Thought it was manlier to tell you I wasn’t coming back then to stop showing up without a reason.”

“You already did that!” you snapped, suddenly piercing, thundering anger running through every cell of your body, raising the hair on your body. “You’re being a complete fucking dick now, Kirishima! For what? At least before I thought it was because you’re busy, but no, you just had to tell me it was because of me! Oh my god?! To think I have a crush on you?! That I was ready to confess to you the next fucking time we had a moment together?!”

You felt hysterical, his reasoning jumbling and twisting in your mind, not at all feeling coherent, and your blazing feelings that were now biting you in the ass… you wanted to make him feel guilt most of all. With tears falling bitterly, angrily down your face, you stared at Kirishima. He was finally facing you, looking you dead on with emotion-filled eyes and a gaping fish mouth ― opening and closing pathetically.

“Get out,” you spoke with a serenity you were not quite feeling, your finger thrust toward the front door.

“Y-Y/l/n―”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you laugh bitterly, no longer wanting to have whatever it is that he wanted to say.

He was just a customer, not a friend, only a customer.

You didn’t need to be his friend anymore.

“Get. Out. Now.”

You didn’t wait for him to leave, turning on your heel, you walked to the backroom, not daring to return to the front until he left.

You’d forgotten how much rejection hurt.

O N E

Whoever said heartbreak was healed with a wild night out, a pint of ice cream and crying had clearly been built differently from you.

One wild night out with your friends, two pints of ice cream, and thirty crying sessions later, you were still sulking as you simply existed. You weren’t even sure why you were overreacting either?! He had been a crush, not a boyfriend!

Lord save you for whenever an actual reciprocated lover dumped you, you were probably never going to recover. Still, you couldn’t let it affect you all that much; you were still going about your day as you usually would, just… sulking.

“You’re a blessing in my life,” your coworker sighed as she came out from the back, her hands moving to release her hair from her bun, her purse slung against her chest as she continued to thank you. “I promise you the next time we work together, I’ll clean up on my own!”

You shake your head, waving her off as you dried some of the dishes lying about.

“We aren’t busy, and there’s no one here, I’ll clean up just fine!” you laugh, glancing over your shoulder to look at her. “Just buy me a pastry tomorrow or something. I’ve closed on my own many times, I’ll be fine! There's no coffee demand this late at night anyway!”

“Fine! I won’t forget! But don’t complain if there’s more than one pastry!”

“Oh my god, LEAVE!” you yell, blindly pointing at the door for her to leave, and you hear her resounding laughter as she finally does go.

“Oops, sorry, welcome and excuse me!” you hear her exclaim as she steps out, and you turn around, already knowing that it’s a customer.

Taking your coworkers' welcome as the company greeting, you merely shouted out that you’d be right with them as you finished washing ― you were almost done with them anyways. Finally done, you turned around, eyes on your thighs as you dried your hands on your apron.

“Alright, how can I help…” you froze when you caught sight of familiar, warm red eyes. “...you.”

Kirishima.

He looked at you with blushing, puffed cheeks, his eyes full of mixing, swirling emotions that you probably couldn’t handle to hear (especially if he had come to yell at you). You don’t know what to do, merely looking at him before sighing.

“The usual?” you ask, moving to get things as smoothly and effortlessly as you could (you had been yelled at for your emotional outburst by your boss).

“Uh, actually, no. I’m okay,” Kirishima spoke up as soon as you pulled out a paper cup, and you stopped, looking at him with your best attempt at dull, emotionless eyes.

“What can I get for you then?” you try again, hating the way that you want to smile at him, to pretend that nothing happened two weeks ago; that this was his first time back.

“I have to confess something,” Kirishima states, his fingers fisting into his ridiculous mismatched athleisure clothing. “I actually really, really, really hate coffee…”

You blinked.

You hadn’t expected that confession.

“Um, okay? Well, then can I make you some―”

“I’m not quite done, sorry,” Kirishima apologized, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in his embarrassment. “I hate coffee, and I don’t like being dishonest, but really, I feel like I’ve been lying to you this entire time.”

“...what?”

“I told you at some point that I had come into this shop by coincidence, but that’s not true! I’ve been passing by for months before stepping foot into here! I had always seen you working through the front window, and you just… you captivated me from that very moment, but I’ve been too weak, nervous, and totally unmanly and could never build up the courage to come in! It took me a year to build up the courage to come in ― which is why I nearly broke the front door that first day! I was so nervous about messing up; I just overexerted my strength!”

Kirishima laughed, his hands raking through his spiked hair, and you could only stare at him as the gelled hair began to fall under his ministrations.

“See, the truth is, I’ve liked you for a long time. Like a long time. And then, when I came in, and we became friends, I only fell for you even more, and I’ve been trying to work up the courage to confess to you! But every time I tried, something bad happened! Like the grouchy old man in the line, how you got sick and couldn’t work! But a true man doesn’t give up until it’s over… and I thought that girl who was hugging you and kissing your cheek that one day was your girlfriend, so I gave up! But the thing is, I was a coward, so fucking unmanly that I couldn’t be around you without you being mine! And so I left because it hurt… but it hurt not being around you, so Mina brought me here! But then you said… you said you liked me back, and unless you’re in a polyamorous relationship, there’s no way for you to have said feelings and confess them to me like that!”

He stopped, his breath frantic, panting, and you could only look up with him with a mirrored breathing pattern despite your quietness.

“I’m here because I’m tired of being weak and unmanly. I’m here because I have deep feelings for you, and I want to ask you out!”

You’re silent for a bit, the temerity of his words loud and clear in your ears, ringing with the need to be addressed. For the first time since he had walked out of your life for the first time, a warmth bubbled in your chest.

“You know,” you whisper, your eyes locked with his, the tears in your eyes freely showing. “This coffee shop does, in fact, have tea?”

“Wha―?”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish the curious ask, your hands grabbing his shirt and bringing him close, his nose brushing against yours but your lips hovering below his own.

“Can I kiss you?” you whisper, your eyes falling to his lips for a second before coming back to his eyes that shone brightly, vividly, excitedly.

“Please?”

Your lips found themselves pressed against his, and the two of you stood there, leaning against the counter by the cash register. Lips passionately, smoothly, deeply pressing against one another as electricity traveled slowly down your spine as his hands pressed against your ribcage. When you pulled away, his eyes fluttered open after yours, and he had the brightest, dumbest smile on his face.

“Would you like to go see the Crimson Riot movie with me?”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

419 notes · View notes

heyheydidjaknow · 4 years ago

Note

Hiya! I have a request for an x reader songfic. Snap out of it by the Arctic monkeys gives me so many 2012 Donnie vibes. Maybe one where the reader is in love with Donnie but he likes April and the reader wants Donnie to, you know, "snap out of it" and notice that maybe April isn't the best person towards him. It can end in unrequited love or with a happy ending, that's for you to decide but I just really want to see this concept. Thanks! :>

(feel free to ignore this request if you want 👁️👁️)

Oh, I’m not about to turn away a chance to be pushed out into foreign territory. I admittedly hadn’t known what a songfic was until wikipedia and @kunimikat saved my ass, so this was fun-- and a bit scary-- to write. I hope you like it, even if it might not have been exactly what you were expecting.

April was your friend. She had been for a while, now, since she had moved to NYC. The two of you had come even closer after her kidnapping and initiation into the “Hamato Clusterfuck” as you had affectionately called it at first—you had wisely made a conscious effort to only get involved with them as far as you could throw them, sticking solidly to offering emotional support and half-decent food. At the beginning, you had, on multiple occasions, even begged her to stay out of it, trying to reason with her that getting herself killed by a psychotic armored man with an axe to grind for the crime of hanging out with four teenage shut-ins was an incredibly bad idea. When your logical arguments fell on deaf ears—her owing them apparently being her ball and chain—you had designated yourself as her supervisor to make sure she did not do something overly impulsive. She was reckless, overly trusting, immature, but you loved her like a sister. You balanced each other out.

One of the benefits of knowing someone for so long is that you learn things about them that they do not know about themselves. In April’s case, it had been that she was terrible at making up her mind

What's been happenin' in your world?

You had borne witness to the love triangle transpiring between Donatello Hamato, Casey Jones and her for the better part of a year now. You were relieved that the two boys had backed off each other’s throats somewhat over the period, but it was as infuriating as it was fascinating to watch them fight over her like a chew toy. Of course, April had her preference between the two, favoring the hockey player mainly for his general normalcy, which was a decision you could approve of, but she had hesitated until recently to make that obvious to the other point because, in her words, “The last thing I want is to deal with is all of that awkwardness.” You could hardly blame her for her hesitation, but you thought it almost cruel not to make her feelings apparent to her lovestruck puppy.

What have you been up to?

Donnie was the most tolerable of the five, the most normal in your opinion. He was an infatuated, insecure teenage boy with more an affinity towards machines and, best of all, seemed concerned for your friend, all things that you could get on board with. In your opinion, overbearingness is preferable to negligence in this case, and you were just happy that someone physically capable had her back. As such, when you were stuck at the lair for hours waiting for her lessons with Splinter to be over—you were her ride—you found yourself spending the most time around him, and as time went on, you started going out of your way to do so.

Seeing as April and Casey were your only other friends, it was natural you would get romantically attached. They—a couple by high school standards—approved of your crush, and all you told your guardian(s) was that they were smart, fit, and financially responsible, so they asked few questions.

You knew, logically, this was not a competition and that April had little interest in him.

But something about the way he gazed at her made you burn green with envy.

I heard that you fell in love, or near enough.

His eyes were just so… wistfully longing. He watched as the redhead and her boyfriend played against Michelangelo and Raphael in a game of charades. His expression was just so soft, lips pursing and popping silently as he grieved from his seat in his lab.

It had been a downhill spiral on your end from there, and as your own attachment grew for him, his own depression worsened. Your eyes drifted from your friend as you tried to make him see that, no, the world was not ending because his first crush did not like him back. You would make subtle comments about how happy his brothers were, how happy she and Casey were together, how smart he was and how many people would die for a kind, loving, smart guy to come around and sweep them off their feet. This, again, fell on deaf ears; he would always comment on how, if he were such a catch, April would not have chosen Casey, like It is his fault for her having more of a taste in cocky, fun-loving guys than intelligent ones. Half of it was probably your lack of experience in subtlety, but no matter what you would try to say, whenever romance came up in conversation, his words turned sharp and bitter.

On that day, you just cracked.

I gotta tell you the truth.

You walked over to the lab door, closing it in a single fluid motion. ‘I’m better at being blunt, anyways.’

He blinked; his trance was interrupted by the small slam.

“She’s not into you.”

“Huh?”

You crossed the room and placed your hand on the desk, expression stern and stone cold. “April,” you repeat. “She’s not interested.”

He did not meet your gaze. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually.” You leaned down to look him in the eye. “You aren’t her type. You’re supposed to be smart.” You placed the other on the back of his chair, arms cagging him in, almost. “ She has a boyfriend,” you continued, softer. “You know that, right?”

“I do.” He tapped the side of his thumb against the table absently, throat tight. “But what else do you suppose I do? Submit to the fact that I’ll be alone forever?” He looked up at you. “I know this may be hard for you to believe,” he continued, easily slipping out from under your arms, “but I don’t exactly have a ton of options. She’s the only person who’s ever looked at me like that; how am I supposed to move on from the only person who’s ever even given me a chance?”

I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby.

You rolled your eyes, turning to watch him as he crossed to the other side of the room. “That is some blatant bullshit,” you glared curtly.

“Is it, though?” His back was to you as he crouched down in front of his centrifuge, fiddling with it. “As someone who’s never—”

“So help me, if you go off about me not understanding being rejected and feeling like they’d die alone, I’ll rip your tongue out.” You stood back up properly.

“What would you know about it?” He followed suit, eyes locking on yours. “You have other people to choose from.”

“And you don’t?” You crossed your arms, smiling incredulously. “How do we differ, exactly?”

“Besides the obvious?”

You scoffed. “You’ve seen your brothers. Never stopped them.”

“And I’m happy for them, that they’re so charismatic as to be able to find partners so easily.” You could taste the bitterness in his words. “But I’m not them, in case you didn’t notice. That girl out there?” He pointed to the door. “She’s the first and only person in the universe who’s ever given me a second glance.”

“So you’re just fucking blind, now?” You heard your voice rise without your input.

“What’re you talking about?” His voice grew with yours.

“You’re lovesick,” you spat. “Snap out of it.”

Snap out of it.

You ran your fingers through your hair. “Or maybe you’re just dense.” You felt a laugh rise in your throat. “I mean,” you gestured, “clearly picking up on verbal subtext isn’t your forte.”

You gave him five seconds. “What,” you continued, rubbing your face with your hands, “Are you—” You stopped. “You are, aren’t you?”

Nothing.

You took a slow breath, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. “Let me put it in simple, plain English for you.”

I get the feelin' I left it too late, but baby—

“As her friend? You’re a fucking creep.” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Following her the way you did—wait your turn—” A finger interrupted his defense. “Following her the way you did? Objectively creepy. Staring at her all the time? Also fucking creepy.” You felt your nails dig into your skin. “Any person would call it as it is.”

He opened his mouth again to argue. You did not interrupt him this time, but he did not argue, the silence falling like a weighted blanket over the two of you.

“As your friend,” you continued, voice lowered, “as someone who cares about you, I know April, and she can’t give you what you want. It’s not her; she needs to be free, and I love her, but you’re looking for something that’s just not there.” Your voice was certain. “You’re looking for someone to spend your life with. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Snap out of it.

He was still for a moment, looking off into the ether. He nodded, face melancholy.

You walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder tentatively. “I’m not saying it’s stupid of you to not be over her. Again, I love her to bits, so I see the appeal.” You broke eye contact, trying to articulate exactly what you meant. “But I’m worried,” you explained slowly, “you’re only hung up on her because you’re scared of being alone. That’s not fair to her or yourself.”

“Do you know that?”

“No,” you admitted easily, “but you and I are the same way, and trust me, I’ve been around the heartbreak block.” You smiled, trying to relieve the tension.

That earned a chuckle. A small one, but a chuckle none the less.

You reached up, cupping his cheek in your hand. “There are seven billion people on this planet. Any one of them—myself included—would be lucky to have a life with you.”

If that watch don’t continue to swing—

A pause.

“Do you honestly believe that?”

You nodded, your thumb running along the line of his eye socket. “I do.”

—or the fat lady fancies havin' a sing—

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his cheek gently.

—I'll be here, waitin' ever so patiently—

“Y/N!” You pulled back as you heard April calling your name. “We need a moderator!”

You started back towards the door, waving gently. “I wish you good tidings, Donatello.” You smiled quietly, serenity itself standing in the doorway. “May whoever is fortunate enough to call you their own bring you happiness. You deserve it.” You slipped out of his lab, running over to break them up.

Donatello rested his fingers on where your mouth had lit his skin. He felt a bittersweet smile fade onto his face.

—for you to snap out of it.

And that was when it began.

List of Works

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lilydalexf · 4 years ago

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Dreamshaper

Dreamshaper has 54 stories at Gossamer. Her stories often feature Mulder and Scully exploring their feelings in ways you really, really wish you could’ve seen on the show. I’ve recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including Found in Memory, Just By Existing, Purpose, and Promise. Big thanks to Dreamshaper for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

I'm not at all surprised people are still reading X-Files fanfic! There's a deep catalogue of good and interesting fiction there, and the X-Files still has cultural significance. And of course there were the recent seasons to bring it back to mind. I think if you had asked me in 2000, I might not have supposed that it had this kind of staying power. So now I'm thinking of this interview as a time capsule--what will my answer be in 2040?

My own fic was not designed to have staying power. If anyone is reading it now, bless them, they are kind and patient. I would only recommend probably reading the first and last things I posted just to see what kind of growth is possible. The first time I ever posted fic, someone told me to never write again. I was a teenager. I was crushed but I went on writing anyway, and I worked hard to improve.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

I think of two things. As for the show itself, I still think of Mulder/Scully as the ultimate in romance. I can still picture certain moments from the episodes, from the movie. I look for pairings with tension that reminds me of theirs--an almost-regency level of UST, but with a modern element of danger.

As for the fandom itself, I grew up in it. My entire online life and the core of how I participate in fandom was formed here. I was 17 or so when I started writing and posting MSR. I was 18 or 19 when I started meeting fans in real life. I was fortunate enough to fall in with people who were equal parts gracious and nerdy, and while my own nerdiness is innate, I remember and emulate the kindness which was shown to me.

I have an entire side post to this question about how strongly I disagree with the current age stratification in fandom--this idea of not interacting across artificial age divides is tragic to me.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

ATXC, and mailing lists. I don't actually remember the names of all the mailing lists! I can picture myself sitting in my kitchen on my computer, and what the emails looked like--the font, the signature lines--but not the names. I can even remember specific conversations we had! One of them must have been Scullyfic, because I remember the first meetup being planned. Is that right? Was it the Scullyfic meetup? [Lilydale note: Probably was Scullyfic. There was a big email flurry when the first Scullyfic mailing list meetup was being planned.] My mind was absolutely blown by the idea of a fan con. Now I've led panels at a dozen of them.

I remember some of the arguments, too. It's funny that some of them are the same arguments I still see here and there, like whether or not criticism of a fanwork is valid. Real Person Fic being this unbelievably shameful thing you had to ask to be shown, and the doyennes of the fandom would have given you the cut direct at Almack's if they'd found out, you know?

This was also the era of AIM and ICQ. mIRC too, right? I spent a lot of time in channels. I absolutely loved when people started to be more open about themselves in chats. I was always so interested in how fandom fit into people's lives. Some people I talked to were moms, college students, people who had interesting careers, and they all just found ways to make fandom work for them. They had a need and were meeting it, despite the pressures of their offline life.

I don't know how to explain the impression that made on me, but--it normalized fandom. That seems obvious, maybe, but I hadn't known this was something you could integrate into your everyday life.

It also normalized the idea of women taking their own needs as primary, in a way that went beyond what I was exposed to in my home life, or through the feminism of the 1990s. There was this wild intersection of the--the domestic and intellectual life of women, and the playful life of women, just making itself known to me in a way I'd never seen before. That was enormous. Absolutely a foundational experience for me.

My experience was that ATXC and email lists were like, these surface-level interactions where people figured out, roughly, if your mind ran on a similar track to theirs, and then you were invited to make deeper relationships in more private corners of the internet. Social media filled both functions at once, I think, for a while. But the privacy was missing. I'm not surprised that Slack and Discord are starting to fill that private corner gap--everything old becomes new, etc.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

UST and monsters. This is still an unbeatable combination for me!

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I loved romance novels--I read so many of them. Somehow, before we even had a computer at home, I started to tell myself romance novel stories with Mulder and Scully as the lead characters. This was how I talked myself to sleep--I wasn't a good sleeper. Then when I got online and did whatever search led me to ATXC, I was just shocked. Shocked! Can't do the surprise justice, in this era where fanfic is relatively mainstream. Other people had also independently invented this thing I loved! But they wrote their ideas down! I jumped on the bandwagon immediately.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

It's like my relationship to my childhood, frankly. Foundational, but I don't think about it all that much on a daily basis, right? I smile and reblog gif sets. I get nostalgic. I get embarrassed by social mistakes I made. I feel the way many of us do about memories from our teenage years. I wouldn't be who I was without it, but I'm not still in it.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I was. I've spent 20 years in fandom! I did some beta work for someone who'd started writing slash--The Sentinel. The actual Sentinel, not just an endless loop of Sentinel AUs based on Sentinel AUs based on etc. I had some idea at the time that I was queer, but this was my first real exposure to romances that weren't straight. So I tore my way through the early 2000s slash fandoms as they developed: The Sentinel, Due South, Stargate Atlantis. Popslash, where a mix of good writing and absurdity ruled. Bandom, where I met my wife. Since then, many smaller fandoms.

It's hard to compare any of these things to each other, let alone to the X-Files. In each one, I was lucky enough to find a circle of women who were strong beta readers and good friends. I never wrote as much or for as long as I did in the X-Files.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I watched the new episodes. I've shown friends important episodes--I remember that a few years ago, another friend and I tried to hook a third friend on the show by binging some favorites--mostly shippy MOTW, so it was like, Arcadia, Triangle, Bad Blood. Fun stuff!

We finish watching and I'm like, well? And? And she says, that was fine, but I'm more of a man-pain, secret babies kind of person? I'll never forget it. She had no idea but she'd hit the nail on the head! We were wheezing with laughter. We went back and watched mytharc episodes, which was much less fun for me, but much more interesting to her.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I don't read X-Files fic often. I look at new things sometimes, and I've reread a few old classics, but my reading taste has changed so much. I still love straight romance, but it needs to be fast and sharp in a way that is hard to find.

I read fic in other fandoms when I have time. In the past few years, I've finished a degree, had a daughter, renovated a small Victorian and then sold it and bought another one during this pandemic--so time has been short. Currently I read some Untamed fic, some Good Omens fic, Magicians, Schitt's Creek...a sampler. Whatever friends are writing, whatever they recommend.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I never have a favorite of my own fics. I'm never satisfied. The second I post something, I'm always full of regrets. I've written fics that did very well and still hated them a month later. People have asked me over the years to move more of my stuff off Livejournal and onto ao3, but I do it really reluctantly and only by specific request. Everything's ephemeral! Let the old works diminish, and go into the West!

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I have no oldies to dust off. I do periodically think of X-Files stories I would tell, but I don't have enough time for current interests--and so it goes.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I do. I was most recently writing in The Magicians fandom. I posted a couple new stories in an old fandom last year--I'd written Good Omens fic fifteen years ago, and then again for the Amazon adaptation. I have a pile of original novels in various stages of completion, but I'm never happy with them. One day I'll figure myself out, perhaps, or I'll just keep writing myself this and that and leaving it all in a drawer.

What's the story behind your pen name?

So AOL had a character limit for user names--I think it was 10. I was a teenager at the time I was coming up with the one I'd use for fandom, so I went with Dreamshaper. It was kind of literal, in the sense that I was going to share the stories I'd been telling myself to help me sleep. But the character limit meant I went with Dreamshpr, which I later liked because of the alternate reading of Dream*shipper*. A reminder to the younger fans that we were the original shippers!

I would also come up with new pen names when I wanted to experiment with a fic that didn't fit my usual style. I don't remember any of them. I probably did that a dozen times, so, sorry to those poor completely abandoned stories.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Giddygeek on tumblr and ao3. I'm most active on twitter, but largely about my domestic life with dips into fandoms or original writing; message me on tumblr if you're an old friend who'd like to reconnect elsewhere.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Just gratitude--I'm so glad that I found people to share an obsession with, and that they were good people, at a time in my life where that made a significant difference to me. I don't know where I'd be now without my time and my growth in this fandom!

(Posted by Lilydale on December 22, 2020)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #dreamshaper

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nagisasstunningpersonality · 4 years ago

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The Character As A Tool: Why Your Fave Doesn't Get More Screentime

Please refer to this post

REMINDER THAT ALL VIEWS HERE ARE MERELY MY OWN OPINIONS

In truth, one of the most common complaints I see within this fandom is the treatment of side characters. Meaning, in short, a fair amount of the fandom are less connected to what’s going on with our main group of Nagisa, Karma, and Kayano, and instead relate to some of the less obvious choices. Now, there’s no problem with doing this. Hey, if you see something you like in a less important character, then absolutely go for it!

What We Do Know

I discovered for myself, whilst making my About Ass Class series posts, that absolutely some characters’ actual canon information is very dry. Matsui gives everyone a few bits here and there in both the Roll Call book and Graduation Album. If you’re lucky, there’s further points you can pick up just from watching/reading.

Now, and this I want to emphasise I’m stating as an opinion, Matsui actually gives us quite a lot to go from. Even if not every character is highly developed, there’s still a genuinely very solid starting block to go from with your own headcanon. Perhaps it can be argued that it’s not the reader’s job to supply that, but I’d counter that it’s actually kind of fun to not be fed every piece of information. Though more facts and a deeper dive into interpersonal relationships would be admittedly nice, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with us as a fandom coming up with those ideas on our own, using the pointers Matsui does give us as a starting point. Honestly it would take the fun out a little if there was too much information, and we’d have less possibilities to play with.

Why Certain Characters Exist

I’m sorry to tell you, but one of the first things you’re taught in any kind of writing or literature analysis class is that characters are not people, they’re tools. This may feel a little harsh to say, and I’m aware that many people get attached to characters and have genuine feelings towards them. And that is totally valid! Definitely not on the same scale, but I too enjoy when people have real emotions towards my OCs, so I get it.

(rest under cut)

To put it plainly: characters exist within a story as either a plot tool, or a message tool. A plot tool is someone who, as it sounds, exists to move the story along. Characters that need to exist in order for the story to happen as it does. Now, don’t get me wrong, you don’t need to have planned this out. You don’t need to specifically introduce Hara, for example, for the sole reason of her upping the stakes in the first Itona/Shiro arc. Characters existing for filler is still, in a way, a plot tool. It’s like… you set up a chess board. Sure, you might use the knight or the queen piece the most, but the pawns are still an important and useful piece, even if you don’t always utilize it for every move, or they don’t always stand out. Message tools are when a character doesn’t really do anything, but they help to assist in the message you want to send with your art/writing. There’s not so many examples of this in ass class, the best I can think of is either Yuuji or Sakura, who don’t do much at all but are beacons for what Matsui wants to say with them (which if you think about it is just ‘don’t do drugs kids’ and ‘stay in school’ :’)).

So free bit of writing advice for you: your character is your chisel. Once you’ve picked them up and started to work at carving out the story you want, then you can start adding all your fancy upgrades and personality points, which is what ultimately makes your character stronger. You grow attached to them when you’re done? Totally fair. Just… don’t go through this process the opposite way.

Without going too in depth with them right now, Nagisa Shiota is a plot tool. He is a plain easy to follow narrator whose observation skills intentionally mean the reader can see things clearly through his eyes. Where he loses relatability is when he displays his talent, but at that point he’s been so clearly introduced that it doesn’t matter as much, we can hear his voice. Him being more plain makes his talent more effective and shocking as it is. Karma Akabane is a plot tool. He exists so we have those somewhat comedic moments, and so we can have these big bad ass mental/physical fight moments. I actually think him not being the protagonist is something that makes Ass Class hugely stronger (and less cliché) as a series. Kayano Kaede is a plot tool. Admittedly, less so, but she has a lot of function as a back up to Nagisa, and then later is the catalyst for Korosensei’s backstory. The story starts to come to its climax due to her arc alone. As an aside I think a lot of criticism for Matsui isn’t that fair within the fandom, but I will openly say his treatment of her post reveal was not the best at all. He kind of lost control of what to do with her.

So, let’s talk about archetypes. I intend to write a whole meta about why Ass Class is predominantly written as a comedy series, but for now just take that statement as my opinion. Honestly, I do think Ass Class, with a few tweaks, could have worked with a bunch of unnamed characters. I’m instantly going to follow that up with: I’m very glad it didn’t. I love that it feels more like a large ensemble with a variety of characters. So instead of just plain filler, Matsui kind of makes good use of archetypes. You know, such as Takebayashi and Fuwa as otakus, Hazama as the dark occult girl etc. etc. All of this for comedic purpose, more than anything, which we really see in something like Koro Q which is more directly comedy. You might argue this is one dimensional, and I’d agree, but in this situation it’s achieving an effect. It’s genuinely better than having nothing. And honestly, they all do stuff. Some characters are far more effective and entertaining as a background character (i.e. Terasaka) than carrying a bunch of weight themselves.

Matsui Actually Does This Comparatively Well

Honestly, try and name another popular series in a classroom setting, with this many characters who all have individual personalities. Genuinely, the only one I can kind of think of is BNHA, and that’s not a fair comparison given the difference in story length. Comparatively to most series, Ass Class actually has really good side characters. If they were completely uncaringly written, nobody would stan them as hard. For the most part, I’d certainly argue everyone is memorable. Given that we’re juggling at least 30 people here (including teachers, Gakushuu etc.), I’d actually argue that’s kind of impressive.

And the thing is, Matsui does care. He cares enough to give everyone designs, hobbies, and personalities. A good portion of them have an entire chapter to themselves, although relative to the story as a whole they might not do so much (example: Kimura). Matsui could have been lazy with it, but he was not. I don’t want to invalidate anyone’s feelings with this, but I do argue here that those who think the opposite might be a little wrapped up in the character they stan. And I can totally understand that rightfully, you want the character you love to have more screen time. However, just because you happened to fall in love with them (figuratively I mean), doesn’t change the purpose they were originally created to fulfil.

It’s an unfair criticism that not giving every single person a huge arc makes Matsui a poor writer. Honestly, if everyone was equal without a few main characters getting a greater amount of the attention, the entire series would be a hot mess. It might be fun to reimagine the series that way, and go ahead in your own time, but as a series from start to finish, as a first time consumer, it would be genuinely very hard to follow. Not without changing the entire structure and many many plot points.

I do intend to write more about this too at a later point (because I will admittedly need to do more research), but in my opinion the biggest issue with Ass Class, and the cause behind the problems I have with it, is the genuine lack of time. It’s a relatively short story, compared to a lot of manga, and thus there isn’t the space to contain everyone’s story in deep way. I’m absolutely certain, had there been 50/100 chapters more, every character would have had a stand out chapter to themselves.

So thus I bring up the fun and stimulation that is headcanon.

The Issue with headcanons

(this point will go much quicker, I promise)

Ass class ended a looong time ago, let’s be fair. Whether you’re newer or older to the fandom, there’s still been quite a while since any kind of new content (Korotan D being the last official piece, Koro Q manga being the last anything, though I could be slightly wrong with that). That means, especially if you’ve cared about this series for a while, that we’ve considered the series to death.

Playing with headcanons is great! It’s fun! But, I do fear that especially when it comes to perhaps the more popular of the minor characters, a lot of us are getting wrapped up. It needs to be kept in mind that whilst these headcanons may have been around for a while, they are not directly correct to the source material. As a quick note, since I have seen people within the fandom getting kind of bothered over opposing opinions to the things they assume as canon. That’s not really anybody’s fault, but it does warrant saying, I think.

A Conclusion

Basically, loving a main character is great. Loving a more background character is great. You’re not a better or worse, more intelligent or more basic person for whoever your fave is. The point is, you see something you like in a character and you relate to them, or else just enjoy them. But as fun as that is, characters are tools. They exist for a specific purpose. Sometimes, that purpose doesn’t warrant them having a huge stand out character arc.

But hey, that’s totally okay because we’re fortunate enough to have such a community (arguably, I’d say a genuinely active one too) where we can dream that up ourselves. We can pretty much endlessly explore these possibilities. So, perhaps instead of negativity complaining about certain narrative issues we find (just putting this here: it’s fair to do this, but I don’t think it should be the FOCUS of conversation), we focus on driving that energy into creation. And there’s a lot to play with and create. And honestly, seeing HC posts and all sorts staring these more minor characters is great, and I’m pretty sure the majority would agree with me on that. I fully realise and accept that I have a platform here, and going forward I personally want to be a part of that. In a constructive way, rather than ‘deconstructing’ (yes, there’s a pretty big different as I see it).

(I realise that this last part comes off a bit call out post like, and I want to ensure that it is not intended to be that. I just have a general sense of some attitudes towards things floating around in a very generalised way right now)

#ass class meta #assassination classroom #ass class #ansatsu kyoushitsu

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t100ficrecsblog · 4 years ago

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an interview with @easilydistractedbyfanfic (she/they)

what are you working on right now? I don’t typically take prompts, but after finding out about the Bellarke Writers For BLM Initiative and how their goal is to raise money for BLM via various fandom prompts that are requested by readers and written & illustrated by various writers and artists, I wanted to get involved. I’ve finished two prompts and am working on my third, which is a Murphy/Raven smutfic set during their years on the Ring. It’s definitely an idea I can work with - it’s over 10k at this point with a lot more to say, so hopefully the anon who requested it will end up pleased! Go check out the tumblr page and the ao3 collection - there’s various t100 pairings/ratings and you can choose the cause if you want to request a fic!

what is the fanwork you’re most proud of? I struggled with this question! My stories are all like my kids, and even if some of them could use a bit of improvement with pacing or dialogue or whatever faults I see when they age, ultimately I do love them all and I’m glad I wrote them. I do sometimes play favorites but that often depends on what I’m in the mood to read myself. That said, I really do always feel proud of my story called What You Need. It’s a darker version of Raven & Murphy, but one that I don’t find unrealistic under the circumstances of the fic. I surprised myself with where my head went on this one. In a good way, because it was really fascinating to dive into the minds of who these particular versions of the characters were.

I’m also pleased that I have over 500k on ao3 at this point. I never expected anything like this when I started writing, and it kind of blows my mind that this is my hobby now. It’s so strange to me that there are stories in my head at any given moment now.

why did you first start writing fic? I started writing in June 2018. Never wrote any fanfic before that, ever - though I did read plenty! I wrote three stories super fast, posted them all on ao3 on the same day and haven’t looked back. I think I started writing out of a combination of just really needing more content for my faves, but also I wasn’t in fandom before s5 and was quite desperate after s4 to talk to other people about Raven & Murphy. So I needed to get the stories out but also I had this hope that it would invite conversation when I didn’t know anyone in fandom.

what frustrates you most about fic writing? Just because I want to write doesn’t mean I can. Having prompts on my plate right now, I feel a real responsibility to finish them, but even when I carve time out to write, sometimes the words just don’t feel right. The muse doesn’t always strike when I have the time available. Also, it’s super ridiculously important to me that scenes and dialogue FEEL right based on the characterization I have in my head in any particular story. I can look at a scene I’ve written, especially an emotional one, and sometimes it’s just not resonating with me the way I know it could or should. It’s tough not to just push through and post it as-is, but I know that would never satisfy me, even if it means a much longer turn-around time on a story or chapter update. Often I will find that I get an a-ha moment that cracks open a better understanding of why a scene isn’t working for me, but this can take time and I have to trust in this process.

Not to preach, but it’s also frustrating when something you spend a lot of time and effort on doesn’t get much in the way of comments. I see posting fic on ao3 as a sort of conversation, so when there’s mostly silence even as the hits (and hopefully kudos) tick upwards, it can feel really...disheartening to feel like you’re talking into a void. And I say this as someone who has been fortunate enough to have regular readers who DO give feedback! I think every writer understands that they need to write for themselves first and foremost, but I wish more readers understood that feedback and enthusiasm will absolutely result in MORE CONTENT! I try very hard to follow this guideline myself by supporting and commenting on everything I read as time permits.

what are your top five songs right now? I listen to a huge mix of songs & my childhood influenced me a lot.

Some floating in my head include -

Chris Cornell’s live cover of Nothing Compares 2U Indigo Girls - Romeo & Juliet The Decemberists - Once In My Life Tori Amos - Silent All These Years The Chicks - March March

what are your inspirations (books, songs, other fic)? I find inspiration in a lot of things, which I think is lucky. One of my biggest is the characters themselves. I love getting deep into understanding who I think they are, what their motivations are and why they’d make certain decisions, whether in canon or in an AU. What parts of their personalities do they keep when they aren’t tortured and under trauma on the regular? What would happen if I change this one scenario in their lives? I could probably go on forever just based on these sorts of thoughts, but I do also find inspiration in simple things like tropes, or song lyrics and the lore of the show itself. Quite a lot of my ideas in my inspiration notebook have sci-fi themes too. A few of my stories have already touched on sci-fi topics, and I absolutely plan more of them because I love how creative that can be. I also love the idea of suspended belief - can I have sentient plant life from an alien planet that can mindread & communicate by projecting thoughts into characters' heads? Yes, yes I can! (I wrote this story, fyi - Flora Incognita, part of a series)

what attracts you to Murven? what first attracted you? Hey, do you have all day? Ha! Seriously, I could talk about this until everyone wants to strangle me! I loved Raven immediately - not so much Murphy! But I really disliked Finn, so ep 1x10 when Raven finally broke up with him had me interested. In that ep, you can see that Murphy is present, awake & nearby in the Dropship and probably overhears everything Raven says. Then he gets up and looks at her to make sure she’s still sleeping before he carries out his revenge plans. I’m not kidding - that one look absolutely and completely hooked me! Murphy was still awful then but he was so much more interesting than Finn, and back then I remember thinking how I’d really like to see them interact as two stubborn, strong personalities, because no doubt sparks would fly. And then when they did interact more, their dynamic was exactly what I’d hoped for and then some!

I love that they’ve seen each other at their worst and at their weakest and most vulnerable, yet they’ve built a strong foundation of trust, faith and understanding. They have so much in common but they’re also different sides of the coin in some ways too. Fandom talks about Bellarke being the head & the heart, but to me Raven and Murphy are the intellect & the instinct - they complement each other, provide some of the qualities that the other needs, their differences improve each other. For me, nobody gets Raven like Murphy & nobody understands Murphy like Raven. Maybe not a lot of people notice, but Raven & Murphy check in with each other a lot - Raven tends to say “I got this” but Murphy is the only person who replies to her “Do you?”. And Raven listens to Murphy’s ideas and suggestions and plans even when she’s known as the genius because she knows that he has valuable things to say. They have fun together, make each other smile and enjoy each other’s company, which is in such short supply in this show!

I know there’s parts of fandom that don’t ship them because Murphy shot Raven in s1. I have a lot of thoughts on it and have had quite a few tumblr posts about it. This is a fictional show - it does not reflect reality. I’ve been on the fringes of fandom for a long time and I know shipping doesn’t always mean yes, I want to see this relationship in real life. For me, I think it’s absolutely fascinating that someone Raven should hate has become one of her closest and most trusted friends. That she forgave him, and we as the audience get to see this dynamic change and grow, and that Murphy has always felt guilty about it even though he was being presented as selfish and out for himself - it’s such a huge, huge part of each of their character’s journeys. This is getting rather meta, but I don’t think either of these characters would have survived this long or evolved to the extent that they each have without specifically being around each other.

And I absolutely can not discuss my love for Raven & Murphy without mentioning the whole way these two LOOK at each other! OMG have you SEEN it?!?? How could I not ship them when they look at each other like that! LOL! Also, I want to keep talking about this but I’ll stop now because I truly could go on forever and anyone who follows me already knows I’m wordy.

BESIDES Murven, what’s your favorite ship in t100? Honestly, nothing else comes close to Murven for me, but I did like Kabby before the show just eviscerated their characters. I like the possibilities of Niytavia still. I can see why people ship Murphamy in the earlier seasons. Definitely think Echo/Roan could’ve been something intriguing. And I’ve got this weird thing going right now where I wouldn’t hate Murphy/Russheda, but admittedly that’s mostly about the aesthetic! I tried really hard to like other partners for Raven & Murphy since they’ve always been my faves, but I’ve been meh about all the possibilities except Luna as a partner for Raven or as a Luna/Raven/Murphy threesome. At some point I might write that. Otherwise I’d say I tend to like the friendships more than the ships.

what are some things you’d like to recommend? I always hesitate to recommend other stories & authors because I can’t stand the idea of people feeling left out if I forget to mention them! But I would like to say that I really and truly love my fellow Murven shippers who read & support my stories and who create content like fic and art and gifs and fanvids. I find so much inspiration in them even though sometimes I can’t get through 30 seconds of a fanvid before I have to pause it because the angst is too much for me!

Since you’re kind enough to ask me this question and maybe a few people will read this answer, please - I recommend that everyone educate themselves on social justice and climate change and Black Lives Matter and capitalism and unions and what intersectionality & solidarity truly mean! Vote like your lives depend on it because THEY DO!

ed’s note: compiled a few resources -Rebel Well: A Starter Survival Guide to Trumped America -Jacob and Al’s Intergalactic Intersectionality Adventure -Get involved in your local chapter of DSA -Join Your Local Mutual Aid Group -Keeping Yourself Safe Online In This Capitalistic Hellscape -Angela Davis’ book Are Prisons Obsolete? -Resource about defunding the police

You can find @easilydistractedbyfanfic here on Tumblr, on Twitter, and on AO3. You can also a request a fic written by her via @bellarkefic-for-blm!

#bellarkefic4blm #raven reyes #john murphy #murven #murven fanfiction #bellarkefics for blm interview

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ask-the-guiding-light-cast · 5 years ago

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Guiding Light turns two years old today!

It’s crazy to think this all began only a couple of years back... and also hilarious it falls on the same day as “International Mystery Dungeon Day” over on Twitter. More after the cut. This is gonna be a long one, so I appreciate anyone willing to read this. ^^

For a long time, I had been a casual consumer of fan fics. It started in the late 2000s when I was in a Spyro craze thanks to the more story-driven Legend of Spyro trilogy. I had an itch that I needed scratched and FFN fulfilled that to some extent. I also looked at some Mario fics, including Paper Mario: The Temple of the Sun, which I greatly enjoyed and thought did a good job adapting the formula that made Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door so beloved and putting a unique spin on things.

But it was until the early 2010s that I actually started getting back into Pokémon games with Gen V. After Emerald, I fell out of touch with Pokémon for a time. When Gen VI came around, I dipped my toe into the fandom through Twitch livestreams, but also through reading a few anime-based fics that are very long and still going, even now.

At the same time, I ended up buying PMD: Explorers of Sky... and damaged my cartridge before I could properly finish the game with my Vulpix/Riolu team. So, I watched cutscenes for what I missed on YouTube, then got Gates to Infinity and, later, Super Mystery Dungeon and had fun with both of them... though more for the stories and characters than the actual gameplay. Truth be told, I don’t care much for roguelikes at all.

It was during the gap in time between Super’s release and the first official footage of Sun & Moon in mid-2016 that I found myself hit with a recurring thought: “What if someone made a PMD story where the hero and the partner are forced to fight one another with the fate of the world at stake?” I wound up (loosely) brainstorming an idea for a PMD story revolving around an antagonistic Hoopa character who would use its ring portals to collect entire communities, including the Pokémon living in them... all so that he would never be bored. This would lead him to “collect” the partner to add to his “toys,” so when the hero shows up, he’d sic the partner on them.

But that was as far as I got with the idea. I ended up graduating college and took a job with late evening hours. It left me pretty tired and exhausted and unmotivated to do much of anything. I withdrew from the parts of the Pokémon community I was involved in.

Then the Generation VII games came out and, while divisive in the fandom, I found myself really liking some of the concepts. There were so many times when I thought, “Gee, I wonder what this would be like if it were in a PMD game?” For example, one of the ideas I had was a sort of edgy rival rescue team akin to Gladion, which would have a Midnight Lycanroc, a Zoroark, and a Type: Null character in it.

So, toward the end of 2016 and early 2017, I started creating an idea for a Choose Your Own Adventure story with the intent of putting it on this really small forum I was a part of. It would be a Gen VII-themed PMD story, but because I didn’t think that sounded interesting enough, I decided that, not only would the human keep their memories, but they would be from the real world and be a major Pokémon nerd. The idea was that the choices the readers made would affect the relationship between the human and partner. I even came up with a point system. The more points the readers earned for their choices, the “closer” the relationship the hero and partner would have and the happier an ending the story would get. If the hero and partner couldn’t stand each other, one of them would likely end up working with the bad guy and winning. If they became steadfast friends, they’d work together to save the world.

Unfortunately, the forum shut down before I got too far into planning it, so I shelved the idea and continued focusing on my job. And things stayed that way for several months, until I ended up getting into med school and scrambling to move.

During the downtime I had when I wasn’t doing moving related stuff, I decided to look at FFN again and found Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Defenders of Warmth. I wound up reading through the entirety of the story quite quickly. I guess you could say it sparked something in my head. The fic itself focuses on what, at the time, was the newest Gen (Gen V). It also has multiple humans and is set on a continent separate from the canon locations (which were just the Air and Grass Continents, since Gates and Super didn’t exist when the fic was written). In short, it renewed my desire to pursue my idea of a Gen VII-flavored PMD story.

So, I set about creating my story outline. It is so... so much different from the actual story, though I’ve gone into that in previous posts (search for #amby answers). Originally, I used Mario & Luigi: Partners in Time as the framework for the fic: an alien invasion in a colorful, comedic world. I took more specific cues, too. Zero was meant to be a (mostly) silent antagonist a la Princess Shroob, for example.

The problem was, I really didn’t have much confidence in myself or my abilities. I’d like to say I was writing for myself, but I really did want validation, too. I think any author is lying to themselves if they say they don’t feel this way at some point. Because of this, I figured if I put the fic on FFN, it would get ignored. The site’s huge! There were, at the time, around 85k fics in the Pokémon section alone. (That number’s since gone up to over 90k!)

Given I had experience with forums, I decided to post it to Serebii, because the fic community seemed much smaller and more open to giving feedback to one another. In an effort to try and, y’know, establish some connections, I actually read other pieces and reviewed them before posting any stories. This also helped me build up a backlog of chapters and prove to myself I enjoyed writing this enough to keep going.

When I finally did post the fic, it was a bumpy start, for sure. I do think I made a lot of mistakes out of the gate, including uploading chapters way too quickly for readers on Serebii to (reasonably) try to keep pace. That probably cost me a few potential readers... or made them silent readers who I never ended up hearing from. Which is why I’m especially thankful to @girl-like-substance (who I can seem to tag, drat) for all of the well-thought-out feedback given throughout the fic’s run. I don’t think I would’ve made such significant strides in my writing otherwise... and there are plenty of long-running fics where the quality tends to stagnate.

In any case... it was thanks to a request from @deliriousabsol to put the fic somewhere more mobile-friendly that I chose to mirror Guiding Light on FFN starting in October 2017. I would’ve kept going on Serebii had she not asked so nicely, so she’s the one you can thank for it showing up there! (She’s a fellow author who does cyberpunk-themed fics and art and her characters have cameoed in the fic.)

And, honestly, I’m just... beyond shocked at what wound up happening to the fic once it hit FFN. Well, actually, for the first several months I was lucky if I even got a comment when I put up a chapter. I’m not sure any of the people who first commented on FFN still follow the fic anymore. I haven’t seen/heard from them at all, so I assumed they moved on with their lives.

In any case, around March of 2018, the word count on FFN passed 300k and... somehow, the fic starting getting more attention. Like, a lot more attention. This was... not really something I was even remotely prepared for.

(Yes, this means there’s gonna be a giveaway. More on that later.) I never would’ve thought I’d reach a number like this. I never imagined I’d meet another PMD author who’d be willing to do a fun collab (thanks @virgil134, Spiteful Murkrow, and Namohysip). I really did not imagine that I’d ever get fanart of characters that I wrote (huge thanks @thebreak-ofdawn, @ask-nicky-and-others, and @cresselia92). I mean, above everything, I not expect the fic or characters to resonate with anybody the way it wound up.

A part of me feels like I don’t really deserve it. I’ve made a lot of serious gaffes with writing this. When initial Serebii feedback had people intrigued by Shane’s jerkass attitude (when I didn’t actually intend for him to come off as a jerk), I dialed things up in the hopes I’d keep their attention. It probably cost me readers. Then there’s the slow pacing of the early episodes and the mistake of making Special Episode 3 as long as it was... which my speaks to my (bad) tendency to give into some of my strongest impulses even though I had an outline I was trying to stick to.

And, I mean, there’s also some of the “shamlessly shameful” stuff I’ve done with the fic. I’m not fooling myself. Guiding Light has grown progressively more furry and, uh, probably fanservicey, too. All the big furbait (and some scalebait) ‘mons are accounted for. There’s a lot more sexual humor when I initially promised myself I would stay away from romance and keep everything platonic. I practically turned Xerneas into waifu bait, if some of these asks are anything to go by. This blog certainly didn’t help in that regard. Maybe I’m just being my usual nervous self?

I am worried that this fic’s performance has, somehow, affected my thoughts and behavior. There are very popular fic authors who let their popularity get to their head... or chose to open up Patreons (something that makes me uncomfortable) or start doing things like taking commissions for written pieces, which is understandable... though I think it’s an easy way to lose your passion for writing. I guess some of that worry stems from a debacle I learned about on a Discord server I’m in, but that’s not something I’m comfortable discussing publicly.

And I haven’t even talked much about the blog itself. Like, it somehow passed 100 followers? Where? When? How? I don’t actually draw stuff like many other Pokéasks. And, like, for a lot of folks, I have no idea if they’ve actually read the fic or just check in on the blog. It’s the same with the fic, I suppose. If you’re a silent reader/follower, I would really love to hear from you! I promise... I don’t bite or anything. I’d love to know what (if anything) you’re thinking. And if you’re a blog that’s following this one and we haven’t interacted, please feel free to reach out! It’s honestly hard to tell if people like what I’m doing, so any feedback is always appreciated.

In any case, if I haven’t lost you by now, I guess all I can say is... thank you. Thank you all so much for all of the support... whether it’s on the fic, the blog, or both of them. I really do hope this final episode can meet your expectations. I’ll try my very best to make this an ending to remember. Nothing would make me happier than to hear you guys enjoy it and feel it does justice to the PMD series.

Sorry for all the rambling. The inbox is open again if you’d like to send any messages for the ficaversary. Again, thank you all so much! You’re the best!

#ooc #long post #fic anniversary

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marshmallow-phd · 7 years ago

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A Royal Intrusion

Request: Hi, love! This is Admin T from NoonaClock! May I request a royalty Au scenario with jongdae please? I adore your writing! Thanks so much in advance!! ❤❤❤

A/N: This was way too much to write!!! I hope you like it!

Genre: Royalty AU

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4

Moodboard by @kreactionsentertainment (admin eva!)

“This really isn’t a good idea, Your Highness.”

Jongdae smirked. “You need to loosen up. Nothing’s going to happen!”

It was obvious that his personal guard was not going to agree.

Jongdae hated calling Minseok his personal guard. They were friends - best friends. They trained alongside each other, grew up together. As the second son of a duke, it was an honor for for both Minseok and his father. The only other position above him was Captain of the Guard, something he had no interest in. Jongdae was glad for that. He didn’t think he could accept anyone else by his side, trust anyone else with his life.

The back entrance was completely deserted as the two of them snuck out of the castle. It would take a little longer to get to his true destination in the heart of the capital and outside the palace walls, but it meant less chance of being discovered by the guards.

“Your mother is not going to be happy about this,” Minseok mumbled

“I'm sure she was actually expecting this,” Jongdae chuckled. “I did my duty. I said hello to the guests and danced with a few of the ‘eligible maidens’ she wanted me to.” He made sure his disdain was apparent in his voice.

As prince of the region, he had several unwanted duties he had to uphold. That included being friendly with young daughters of the dukes and lords of the kingdom as one of them could possibly be his future queen. Jongdae shuddered at the thought. Most of them were nice enough, he just couldn’t see himself spending the rest of his life with one of them. They were too… Jongdae sighed. He didn’t want to insult any of them. They were raised to be good wives, proper ladies. It wasn’t their fault it made them somewhat boring and too similar to each other.

Minseok check to make sure the coast was clear before nodding to the rebelling prince.

“Let’s go,” Jongdae urged. He ran past Minseok, too impatient to wait any longer. Gone were his fine dress blues, his heavy uniform covered in thick metals and a decorative sash that itched his neck whenever it shuffled out of place. Now he was in civilian clothes, certainly more comfortable to run around the empty streets. A majority of the citizens in the inner circle of the capital were at the ball, leaving him free to roam around without anyone trying to stop him or gawking at him.

It was a rare moment of freedom.

You hummed softly to yourself, smiling as you took down the sheets that were hanging up in the backyard to dry with the setting sun. It was peaceful, quiet. Just how you liked it.

Everyone else was gone, having their fun at the ball, including your father, stepmother, and sister.

You were quite lucky. Even the the fairytales had warned you that she would hate you and treat you like garbage, your stepmother was a bit of an angel. She treated you just as well as your half sister who was only fourteen. As you’ve gotten older, your stepmother had become more of your friend than a parental figure, which came in handy when convincing your father to not make you go to the ball.

It was pointless to you. As the daughter of a (though very well off) merchant, you were not an ideal match for the prince’s hand, easily overlooked for the higher class ladies. Not that you wanted to be an option anyway. The few knights you had met in the marketplace were a bit too full of themselves for your liking and no one else had caught your eye. Perhaps you were just too picky. Your father was putting more and more pressure on you lately to get married as you were that age now. But he understood that you wanted to marry for love for that’s what he did himself, but you needed time. Love at first sight was not something you believed in.

Just as you pulled down the last sheet from the wire, a scraping sound caught your attention. It seemed to be coming from the brick wall that seperated your backyard from the smith’s next door. Steeling yourself, you held the sheet to your chest protectively, wondering if you should run inside to safety.

“Ow!”

A silhouette popped up on the wall and the unknown figure crawled over, losing his footing and falling to other side, landing right in your stepmother’s rose bushes. Without thinking, you ran over to him.

“Are you okay?” you asked, kneeling down in front of him as he struggled to get to his feet.

“I’m fine,” he groaned.

In the last remaining light of the setting sun, you caught a glimpse of his face, making you gasp. You bowed your head, keeping your eyes down.

“Your Highness.”

“No, no, please, don’t do that.” Two hands grabbed your shoulders and forced you to your feet. “I’m sorry about your flowers.”

A little laugh escaped you. The Crown Prince was worried about the plants? And what was he doing climbing into your backyard? You lifted your head to ask just that question, but stopped when you noticed the cuts on his cheeks from the thorns.

You reached up reflexively but pulled your hand back, remember the inappropriateness of it.

“Y-your bleeding,” you pointed out.

The Prince brought his own finger to his face, the tips covered in blood when he pulled them away. He whined. “Mother’s going to kill me.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed again. He threw a look that was mixed with confusion frustration.

Clearing your throat, you offered, “I have a first aid kit in house, if you would like me to patch them up for you?”

A pair of piecing, deep brown eyes flickered back and forth between his hand and you, making your blood run hot. You always knew the Prince was handsome. Thanks to your family’s status and choice of residence you were often attending ceremonies and caught glimpses of His Highness from afar. He always wore a look of seriousness to match his royal uniform, giving him a sense of arrogance or haughtiness. However, as he stood in front of you now, he seemed much more… normal. And his lips, while not fully smiling, were pulled up slightly in the corners, giving him a little more personality beyond a stiffly portrait character.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

After a small curtsy, you turned and headed inside, assuming he would follow you. He did and you motioned for him to sit down at the table while you headed into the storage room to fetch the kit. Setting the small box on the table next the Prince, you poured him a glass of water.

“Thank you,” he whispered and gulped down nearly half the glass in one sitting.

You smiled, “You’re welcome.”

All the supplies you needed were right there so you uncorked the cleaning alcohol, soaking a cotton swab in the potent liquid.

Holding it up, you looked back up at him. “May I?”

He nodded. The moment you pressed the cotton to the first cut, he flinched, sucking in air between his teeth. You gave a small apology before continuing, holding his jaw in place with your free fingers.

“Can I ask you a question, Your Highness?” you asked. He hummed which you took as permission. “Why, exactly, aren’t you at the ball?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I just… needed out. It’s too stuffy in there.”

You giggled. “I thought the ballroom was fairly large myself the last time I was there.”

A frown pulled at his lips. “You’ve been to the palace?”

It took some self discipline to not snap at him. You were wearing an old work dress that was stained and faded and were doing laundry while the high and mighty were dancing the night away. Of course he assumed you were a servant.

Taking a deep breath, you sighed. “Yes, I have. I’ve gone to a few celebrations with my father. He’s Sir Yoon, the merchant.”

This newly given information made his eyes widen. “Y-you’re Yoon Jihoon’s daughter?”

“Mm-hm.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why aren’t you at the ball?”

You shrugged, moving on from cleaning the cuts to tapping on small pieces of gauze to keep them from getting infected. It would be a shame to ruin the pretty face. “I saw no need to go. My father would just try to introduce me to some other snobbish high-born who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. I have no interest in people like that. They want an ornament for their arm. I’d rather have someone I can talk to. Not many people want to have a conversation with someone.”

“You mean, like how we’re having one right now?”

Your fingers froze. Risking it, you raised your eyes to meet his. They were staring at you again, making your heart pound in your chest. He was the prince - out of your reach in a sense - and yet here you were, getting all flustered like the heroines from the fairytales you grew up hearing before bed.

“I-I, um, well, I guess-” you took a deep breath, trying to calm your system down. “Sure. You could call this a conversation.”

He smirked. “Last time I checked, a conversation consisted of two people speaking back and forth on the same subject.”

Ugh. How could he be obnoxious and yet still appealing? You pouted your lips, unable to come up with a good comeback.

Your silence made him laugh, knowing he’d won. Without thinking, you slapped his shoulder as if he was one of your friends from the market rather than the Crown Prince. That hit to his arm stopped his laughter in its tracks and made you gasp at your own irrational action. Staring down at the spot you’d hit, he was still smiling if a bit shocked.

An apology was stuck in your throat due to being too stunned and you were sure that you had clearly crossed a line and were in trouble now.

Turning back to you, those eyes were sparkling, making your heart overreact again. A lock of hair had fallen out of your bun and was now hanging in front of your face. You wished more had fallen as well to hide your face in embarrassment. Still in silence, he reached out to you and pushed the hair out of your face and behind your ear. Heat rose to your cheeks and you knew they were turning pinker by the second.

A blinding smile grew on his face. “You know-”

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

The pounding at your front door was frantic, making you jump. Hopping up to your feet, you practically ran to the door, trying to put distance between you and your guest.

Opening up the door, you found the Prince’s personal guard standing there in a panic. He, too, was dressed plainly.

“Miss, I’m sorry to disturb you, but there were reports of an unknown person running through the area and I’m needing to see if you’ve heard anything unusual or saw something suspicious.”

“Oh, um-” you chewed on your cheek. He was obviously looking for the Prince. Were you supposed to lie and pretend you didn’t know anything?

“Don’t worry, Minseok,” said runaway laughed behind you. “I’m right here. I fell in some rose bushes in the backyard. The young miss was just patching me up.”

Minseok visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness. I lost the guards. I’m sure they just gave up and went back to the palace, but I think it best if we returned as well.”

Jongdae nodded solemnly. “Yes, I think you’re right. I’ve caused enough trouble for the evening.”

You deflated. As strange as the situation was, you quite enjoyed speaking casually to the Prince and were sad to seem him go. But he had a duty and you were a few classes below his rank no matter how much property and money your father owned.

Nodding, Minseok turned to start walking away. Jongdae stepped out of the house, but turned back quickly before you could close the door.

“I never caught your name.”

You gave him a small smile. “(y/n), Your Highness.”

He repeated your name softly and it sounded heavenly coming from his lips. “Well, (y/n), if you don’t mind, I would really like to come visit you again tomorrow. Would my presence be welcomed?”

You nodded, probably a little too enthusiastically. “Yes, of course, Your highness.”

“Please, call me Jongdae. I’ll see you tomorrow, (y/n). Until then.” He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss just above your knuckles. At the insistence of his guard, he walked away, shooting you one last glance before he disappeared down the dark street.

Closing the door, you leaned your forehead against the cool wood and sighed, wondering how tomorrow could come any faster.

#exo #exo royalty au #exo royalty!au #jongdae x reader #exo fanfic #chen #jongdae #exo scenario #exo reactions #exo one shot #kim jongdae #request #kpop #kpop au

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usaghinanami99 · 7 years ago

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Hello, comrades! Here I am presenting you a short review of Nachtmahr, a Marx/Engels yaoi dōjinshi by the wonderful RONO (@gattungs-wesen). Before starting, though, I feel the need to drop some advices: first of all, I am by no means a professional reviewer and would never claim it; on the contrary, I haven't written a review for non-scholastic purposes since last summer, so my already scarce abilities are probably rust by now. Second, I am nothing more than a fellow Marxist like many who also happens to be a passionate fangirl of the M/E pairing; please keep in mind my young age and subsequently limited study degrees before addressing me as naive or shallow. And last, I tend to use way too many words for pretty much everything, so you're lucky that the work I'm going to write about is very short, otherwise even I don't know much far I could have gone... actually, I do know: I used to write 5 pages-long analysis of single Pokémon episodes before my spare time decreased drastically, so here's that. Without further ado, let's get started!

Before starting reading, one has to consider how the fanbook is presented, and I think its cover illustration makes for a very, very nice presentation: a cover ought to convey what the stuff you're going to read is about, and this one sets the tone perfectly. In particular, it establishes what the book is all about thanks to an efficient representation of the main couple (of course we all know this is a Marxengels fanbook, but I'm thinking of people stumbling upon it in a comiket, as opposed to us who specifically found it looking for M/E material), which, on the other hand, also serves the need to demonstrate how the art inside the book is going to be – I'll touch upon the subject later, but it's obvious just from the cover that it's going to be pretty at the very least. Finally, the illustration also perfectly establishes the mood of the whole story: not many yaoi books open with this type of picture, am I right? I mean, they usually tend to depict two hot boys in a very steamy and sexy fashion, or at least that's how the yaoi I read generally work. This, on the other hand, is going to be epic and tragic, and the characters' expressions and positions convey this feel better than I could ever explain – also because my English vocabulary is quite limited.

This is where I should review the story itself, but I think it's going to be rather short for my standards, because, to put it bluntly, nothing really happens. Okay, this is just an exageration to say that there is no traditional plot advancement, which is not inherently a bad thing, not at all. In fact, even some masterpieces have been written which don't feature any conventional plot (Beckett anyone?), and this case seems certainly akeen. The thing is, stuff doesn't happen because it's all in Engel's head, which is a clever way to enter his thoughts and twist the reader's expectations at the same time. What I mean is that, at least for me, at the first read it is not clear whether something is real or not, if it's Engels dreaming or an actual memory of his; granted, everything is crystal clear by the end and upon subsequent re-readings, I definitely don't mean to say that the storytelling is confusing – it just likes toying with what us readers would expect, and that's always nice if done in such a clever way. This is where the dōjinshi's title comes to play: "is what I'm reading a nightmare or not?", I was constantly asking myself during my first reading. In the end it turns out that the answer is "yes", but one is still left to question themselves about just how much Engel's nightmares were real or not; and, while the answer to this second question leans more towards the "no", it's left ambiguous enough that a reader is still provided with a window of hope, if they want. Engel's nightmares, which are virtually the major subject of the story, transition from the near past of Marx's death to the distant past of a tender love scene between the two philosophers, which isn't probably anything more than a mere fantasy of Engels', but, honestly speaking, it feels so real when it starts that it's shocking to see this idyllic scene brutally shatter. I'm sorry for those (including myself, alas) who expected a scene of tender love-making between the two columns of Communism, because the carefree sweetness comes to an end when Engels is bound to notice the wedding ring on his beloved's finger; now, I have to admit my personal headcanon is that Jenny was fully aware and supporting of the relationship between the two, and would also often take part in nice orgies along with both families, but it's not like we own their diaries or anything, so any guess is as good as mine. But RONO's guess in particular is very depressing, which I genuinely didn't expect given how much fun most of his fanart tends to be, but gosh, does it work? Very well indeed, there's enough angst to make you shed many tears, what with poor Fred's unrequited love (which is already the saddest thing ever, btw) and his self-guilt given by cheating? Speaking for myself, I headcanon the whole Marx-Engels big family as polyamorous, add to it the fact that free, unbound love is certainly an important part of their ideals, as we all know from the Manifesto itself – but I do not want to dismiss this more tragic view of their relations, which is indeed as valid as mine. After this heartbreaking nightmare, we cut to reality, with a devastated Engels being aided by none other than Kautsky, whom I didn't expect to find here at all! I'll keep my opinions on the man for myself, unless someone is dying to know what I think of every Marxist philosopher I've ever read, but I'll just say that my thoughts on this particularly controversial figure don't bear any importance on the overall enjoyment of the work. A work that ends in the most heartbreaking way ever possible (as if the end of the dream weren't already enough!), with Engels surrendering to despair in front of Karl and Jenny's tombstone. If you meant to call deep depression upon your readers, than you've done the best of works, RONO! I'm obviously exaggerating again for the sake of comedy, because I really love how emtional and tragic this story came out to be. I related with it on a personal level and felt genuinely hurt for how much my precious OTP had to endure, but this is no news for me, and I highly appreciate the work that I've had the honour to read.

I'm afraid I've got even less to say about the art, because I am so far from being an expert; if my opinion is of any importance, then, I'll just say that I found it perfect and worth of an official work, which I think is the best compliment one could make to a fanbook. Come on, someone go and hire the man, otherwise so much talent will go waste! Luckily enough, nowadays more and more manga artists become professionals after having started as amateurs, and in this case I definitely see all the talent and passion needed for the big jump. Official or not, this work is awesome and its status won't change it! ...Well, I did say I can't properly judge art! Want to know something else, then? RONO is the one and only artist who can make bearded men attractive for me. That's a thing. Oh, and also don't forget the closing illustration, which depicts young M/E happily dancing to what I think is a waltz (?). This particular picture was yet another reason of crying for me, because my best favourite film in the world happens to be Beauty and the Beast, so I think you can imagine just how much important romantic balls are for me. Well, I don't know whether this was intentional or not, but after all, it's a nerd's job to find references regardless of whether there are actually any or not! Unfortunately, Karl and Friedrich's story ends in a much more bitter tone than Belle and Adam's, but this unexpected bonus really did the trick for me – I am very emotive, to the point that I cry every single time I rewatch B&B, so of course I did the same thing many times upon reading and rereading this dōjinshi.

Finally, every good reviewer should find at least some flaws in the most perfect work, but I've never claimed to be a good reviewer. Do you really want something negative about this fanbook? Okay, then, I guess you won't be particularly invested in it if you don't ship M/E... but if you don't, just go and read all that Engels wrote after Marx's death (and be ready to burst out in tears)! And of course follow and support the artist if you don’t already, because he deserves all the love in the world from us commies!

#marx #engels #marxengels #karl marx #friedrich engels #yaoi #doujinshi #review

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lokilickedme · 7 years ago

Note

Hello My Lady! Just because you asked, here are my faves of yours: #1 King (no surprise here), #2 Jack (too crazy not to love, and the stream crossing of pretty much all your stories is genius) #3 Chem/BD/TTW/TKH/TWK/can't remember them all. They're all special in their own way! Can't believe it'll be 3yrs soon since I started squatting your page!!! God time goes by fast! I'd like to add a special mention for the Muse Meetings, sooo funny, and a Golden Snowflake to Aleks. Cute little bumkin.

Thank you @fudgemuffinanon! Dear god, has it been that long? Seems like I joined up last year…*sits here blinking at my posts from 2015, wondering how that happened*

**LONG TEXT POST COMING UP**

You drew the lucky straw today my darling, I’m feeling wordy and in the mood to share. A lot of people have asked me over the last couple of years how some of my stuff came about, and you mentioned one that gets a lot of asks.

Lemme tell you something about the Muse Meetings. Way back in 1998 when I got my first computer, one of the very first things I ran across by way of internet fanfiction was a little something called The Very Secret Diaries penned by a writer named Cassandra Claire (who is now professionally published under the name Cassandra Clare). The Very Secret Diaries (which are hilarious, btw) woke something up in me - mainly because, as a lifelong writer who had never allowed anyone to read 95% of my work, I finally realized that yeah, there were other people out there whose brains deviated from the standard in the same way mine did. Her writing style back then (in the Diaries specifically, I’ve never actually read anything else she’s written) was very similar to the way I wrote, and those Diaries were exactly the sort of silly, ridiculous, irreverent thing I’d scribbled in my notebooks for most of my life. And people liked it, she had a huge following based on just those out-of-context glimpses of her characters’ personal thoughts. She was writing behind the scenes thoughts of characters, things that would never make it into books, and it was brilliant. That was the kind of stuff I loved to write but had never given myself permission to show anyone. She was showing hers to people, and they were loving it.

Which gave me the inspiration to not only put my work out there in the public eye for the first time ever, but to stick with my personal writing style (which I’d always assumed wasn’t what other people wanted to read, based on the books I’d been exposed to most of my life). Not change anything. Just do me. And doing me meant writing silly nonsense if I wanted to.

So - The Very Secret Diaries are more or less the inspiration for the Muse Meetings, or at least the official written version of them. I’d always imagined dialogues with my characters outside the confines of whatever story I was working on, but never thought anyone else would be interested in seeing me write it out.

The Diaries made me realize different. Not only were her characters yammering and complaining and snarking at each other (both out of character and in), they were doing it in exactly the way I’d imagined my own characters interacting in the real world. I loved it. Seeing someone else do what I’d always done in my head - and do it in an official, out-there-in-the-public-eye capacity, was a revelation. Finally I was able to give myself permission to write the way I wanted to, without restricting myself to the styles and methods in the books in the family library. It had always been in my head, but now it didn’t have to stay there. I could write proper stories, but I could also write what was going on in the other room, where the reader seldom gets to peek. And other people besides myself might like it because hey, there’s precedent.

That was freeing, and I am grateful to Ms Claire for that.

So, a little history that leads up to how and why I finally started writing out the Muse Meetings:

My first fandoms that I wrote for online were Harry Potter and Star Wars (Kenobi specifically). And yes, way back then (late 90′s - early 2000′s) there were already muse meetings among my characters. I’ve been doing these for a long time, and I wish the out-of-character stuff I’d written back then still existed (my HP stuff bit the dust when The Restricted Section shut down, and my SW stuff was on FF.net for a little while but honestly I don’t remember my user ID there or the titles of the fics, though I have searched…so they’re most likely lost as well). It’s sort of a shame because there were some old Anakin/Obi-Wan muse meetings that you guys would have loved…and the stuff between Remus and Sirius while we were hashing out what was going to be in their next chapter? It still pains me that it’s all lost, but maybe it’s for the best. That was nearly two decades ago, we move on to bigger and (hopefully) better things.

After my urge to write HP fic fizzled out I stopped writing for a while, but there were always muse meetings going on in my head for stories I scribbled mentally. To me they’ve always been more fun than the actual stories, which explains my love for gag reels and behind-the-scenes featurettes for movies (I watch those first, always).

And then I found AO3 - funnily enough, I discovered it while searching the internet for one of my lost HP fics - and I decided to start writing in earnest again. With all those thousands and thousands of fics and endless fandoms, it seemed like the perfect place to indulge my need to share what went on in my head. And as I settled into the MCU and my stories started to grow to include multitudes of characters, those impromptu staff meetings with my muses kept being called to order. Stuff that my characters would never say in the context of their stories got said. Scenarios that were too ridiculous to waste time writing were played out. Arguments and fights and bantering between characters who, in the restrictive confines of their own tales, would never in a million years interact…now they were throwing poptarts at each other (and occasionally knives) while the side characters wandered out of the room to watch TV or raid the fridge or sat in horror as someone’s until-now unassuming wife brandished a melon baller as a weapon.

It was messy and fun and was by far my favorite part of the writing process.

That’s what eventually became the Muse Meetings. You want to know how they escaped my head and became an official thing?

Well I’m gonna tell ya lol

One of my very first friends in here, the fantastic @elvenfair1, was one of my first readers at AO3 and she told me I should post links to my fics at this site called tumblr to bring in a bigger audience. So I opened an account here, followed her, posted some links as suggested, and she and I began messaging back and forth pretty much every night as we wrote our respective fics, bouncing ideas off each other and discussing plot points and brainstorming for character names. And as my characters sassed me and refused to cooperate with what I wanted them to do, I would tell elvenfair what was going on in my head with my dumbass OCs and OFCs and we’d laugh and gripe about trying unsuccessfully to reel in our unruly muses.

And then one night back in 2015 she said “You should post this muse stuff, it’s hilarious.”

You know what the first thing I thought was? Cassandra Claire did it 14 years ago and people loved it. So yeah, I can sure as hell do it if I want. If nobody is interested in it, at least it’ll amuse me and elvenfair and that’s cool enough.

And so I did. I started posting them in here first, then as people started requesting them more I eventually moved them to AO3 in a more structured format. And now you guys have multiple Lokis hurling curses at a bartender and viciously baiting a hapless movie star while teenage versions of two other attendees flirt with unsuspecting OFCs, with an occasional appearance by Thor dropping hints about future chapters and looking for fruit roll-ups. It’s messy, but it’s fun and I’ve always enjoyed writing it as a way to let my brain decompress, especially when one of my “real” stories has hit a roadbump.

Since then I’ve seen countless other professional writers doing the exact same thing - J.R. Ward even posts her own version of muse meetings on her official website AND has a published book (her Insiders Guide) that is almost entirely nothing BUT muse meetings. It’s surprising how many writers actually do this and I sometimes wonder if authors like Poe, Steinbeck, Vonnegut, Tolkien, Gaiman, McMurtry didn’t do it themselves (I’d bet money on McMurtry). Just goes to show there’s not an original idea anywhere in the universe…no matter how much you might believe you came up with it first, someone out there has been doing it for a long damn time before you - and a million more will do it after you :)

Anyway, I haven’t written any muse meetings in a while but they still go on constantly in my head. I get asked about once a week to go back to doing them, and one day I will, when I have time for it. My actual fics are struggling for writing time as it is and I made a conscious decision to weed out the unnecessary stuff in favor of “real work” (yeah right lol)…but yeah, the Meetings are still one of my favorite things and I won’t stop doing them permanently - they’ll be back.

So thank you Cassandra Claire for inspiring me to let them fly…if it weren’t for those whacked-out Diaries, the Muse Meetings would all still be in my head with only one person (me) laughing at them.

#fudgemuffinanon #long post #it's been a while since I got to talk to an adult IRL due to the kids being sick #so here have all the words at once lol

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pageturnersblog · 5 years ago

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We are excited to be one of today’s stops on The Summer Set by Aimee Agresti Blog Tour. Thanks to Graydon House Books for the review copy and including us on this tour.

The Summer Set is a fun “beach” read. It reminds me a lot of the rom-com movies of the recent past like Leap Year and When in Rome. Charlie, our dashing staring lady, has a storied past and as you read on, is just fun, someone you’d want to call your best friend. She’s obviously a little broken, and has some things to work on, but her journey is one I’m along for the ride on.

The story follows her to a summer theatre festival where she performed at early in her career, and it’s now run by her ex, Nick, who directed her breakout theatre performance at this very festival and later, movie. She is part of the professional company doing three Shakespeare plays throughout the summer. The professional company is also joined by some younger apprentices, learning the different crafts of theatre. I love that two of the apprentices also get POV moments in the story, mirroring Nick and Charlie. This what a little confusing to follow at first (probably because of the eARC formatting), but once I really got into the story, it was fun to see the big moments from the point of view of our younger, soon to be stars.

Also, if you are wondering why Aimee’s name sounds so familiar to YA readers, her first book was ILLUMINATE, the first book in the Gilded Wings Trilogy.

Thank you Graydon House Books for the provide author Q&A with Aimee.

Q: Please give your elevator pitch for The Summer Set.

A: Gladly! THE SUMMER SET is a romp about a former Hollywood It Girl—Charlie Savoy—who flamed out, left the film world and now is almost 40 and back at the summer Shakespeare theater where she got her start as a teen….and where her ex is the artistic director. Drama and hijinks ensue! But it’s really a universal story about old flames, old friends, old rivals and second acts: having the courage to shake up your life!

Q: Which came first: the characters or plot line?

A: They sort of arrived together! This idea has been with me for a long time: I always had Charlie, my main character, and this sense of wanting her to be embarking on a “second act.” I wanted to tell the story of a bold, wild child kind of star who flamed out early and had to start over and figure out what she truly wanted. I always knew this character would be the type who seemed confident to anyone watching but was actually much more vulnerable deep down. Someone who’s acting as much offstage as onstage!

Q: Why do you love Charlie and why should readers root for her?

A: I really loved writing this character: she’s impulsive and aggressive and tough and uncontrollable. But all of her bravado is covering up how out of place she feels, how nervous she is to be back in the theater world after feeling like she failed in her film career. Anyone who has ever tried to act like they had it all together while actually being unsure on the inside (which I think is all of us, right?!) will understand Charlie and feel she’s a kindred spirit.

Q: We can see from your bio that you have written extensively about entertainment topics. Have you ever been involved in theatre yourself? If so, in which capacities? If not, what fascinates you about the theatre world?

A: As anyone who saw me as Miss Jones in Sherwood High School’s 1994 production of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying would know: I am that drama geek who loves theater as much as humanly possible while having no actual talent. ;) I was lucky enough to grow up in a small town with a fantastic theater—the Olney Theatre in Olney, MD—and I volunteered there (offstage!) all through high school. It was an amazing place because the actors were incredible, they were New York-based, and they would come and actually live together at a residence on the theater property. I’ve always had an overactive imagination so I remember wondering what went on there: which ones were friends, which ones weren’t, was anyone hooking up?! I was fascinated. That experience hanging around there definitely sowed the very early seeds of this novel!

Q: Obviously you've interacted with many celebrities. Who were the most fascinating to talk to?

A: Oooh, there were so many fun ones: George Clooney is my all-time favorite (he’s EVERYONE’S favorite!) because he’s just a supernice guy and is that type who seems to always be having a great time. Some more of my favorites who also had that same warm spirit and were so much fun to chat with: Sarah Jessica Parker, Angelina Jolie, Renee Zellweger, Ewan McGregor, Hugh Jackman, Hugh Grant, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, the list goes on!

Q: If you could star in a movie or Broadway show, which one would you choose and why?

A: HA! OMG, I love this question! Since THE SUMMER SET is set at a summer theater, I’ll choose Broadway! Wow, there are just. So. Many! I would love to be Angelica in Hamilton and Mimi in Rent and Roxie in Chicago! I assure you I would be absolutely TERRIBLE in all of these roles but it would be tons of fun!

Q: What was your last 5 star read?

A: I just re-read a favorite--THE LOST VINTAGE by the wonderful Ann Mah! It’s an absolute gem of a novel about love, secrets and drama in French wine country. Beautiful writing, fantastic storytelling and it also satisfies the wanderlust we’re all feeling these days.

Q: What is one thing about publishing you wish someone would have told you?

A: Oh wow, I feel like even five books in, I’m still learning! But I think one thing I never would’ve expected before I published my first novel is that every time a book comes out you feel that HUGE excitement but also that little rush of nerves, like: “OMG this thing that, for years, only lived in my head and on my laptop is now out there!!! Aaaah!” Or maybe that’s just me? ;)

Q: What inspired you to become a writer?

A: A love of reading! My mom is a librarian so I grew up reading everything in sight and I’ve just always loved escaping into books. I went to journalism school and worked in magazines, which I absolutely adored, but I always dreamed of writing novels, so I feel incredibly lucky to get to do this!

Q: What was your journey to get your first book published?

A: Great question! My first novel was ILLUMINATE, the first of my YA Gilded Wings Trilogy. I tend to write the book I most want to read at any given time and I got lucky that when I was in the mood for YA, so were a lot of other people, so that worked out! But I actually wrote another book BEFORE that one—it was a totally different vibe and not YA--that just didn’t hit things right, for whatever reason. I always say that publishing--the fiction world especially--is like falling in love and you need the right person to read the right manuscript on the right day and have the right connection to it in order to get published. I feel very lucky every time a book gets published!

Q: Let’s talk about your writing, what is your writing process like? Do you follow an outline or do you just see where the story leads you?

A: I’m a major outliner! I need to have everything mapped out. I need to know this journey has a destination. I admire writers who can let things unfold as they go—how freeing that must be!—but I’m a planner, it gives me comfort. Although, there are plenty of twists that only present themselves when you’re in the middle of writing so I do always let myself deviate from my outline too, great stuff comes out of that!

Q: Do you share your work along the way or wait until it is complete to have others read?

A: My sister is my beta reader and she is amazing! Sometimes I’ll give her the book as I’m writing it, as I did with THE SUMMER SET, and other times I’ll wait until it’s all finished (like with my previous novel, CAMPAIGN WIDOWS), it mostly depends on how tight the deadline is! She’s incredible and I’m so grateful for her close eye and the time she spends doing this for me. Since she enjoys the same books/films/stories/genres as I do, I know that if there’s something in my novel that isn’t working for her then it’s not going to work for any reader! She’s the best! If you’re reading this: Hi, sis!

Q: What inspired you to write The Summer Set?

A: I’ve always loved the film/TV/theater/music universe. I started out writing for entertainment magazines—Us Weekly, Premiere—and those jobs were incredible and offered me this amazing glimpse into that celebrity world with all of its ups and downs and drama and excitement. I’m an arts girl so I think there’s something magical about the way a great show, whether on stage or screen, can transport you or connect with you or seem to understand you. And I think the people who are able to bring those stories to life are fascinating!

Q: What projects are you currently working on?

A: I’m (slooooowly) at work on the next novel! It’s in those early stages but it’s an idea I’ve had for a long time so I’m excited! Wish me luck!!

Q: What’s your favorite genre?

A: Oooh, that’s tough! I actually will read anything and everything! For me, it just depends on the story. I’m always on board for great writing and the kind of storytelling that keeps me hooked and turning pages!

Q: Who is your favorite author?

A: I could never choose just one! I grew up on the classics (Austen, the Brontes, Hemingway, Salinger, on and on!) and I adore them so much and revisit them often like checking in on old friends! As for contemporary authors, I love Tom Perrotta, Nick Hornby, Emma Straub, Dave Eggers, Elizabeth Gilbert, to name a few! There are so many that I love and admire!

Q: What are your top 3 favorite books of all time

A: Oh man, this is REALLY tough because there are just soooo many. But I’ll go with these:

--Pride and Prejudice: I could read this every day! I’m completely Jane Austen-obsessed so I actually feel that way about all of her books. Even now, I’m thinking: should I choose Emma?! Or Persuasion?! How do you choose?!

--The Catcher in the Rye: I love everything Salinger. But Holden Caulfield was my first literary crush!

--A Moveable Feast: I also love everything Hemingway but I’ll go with this one because I’m pretty sure I belong in Paris in the ‘20s. (Aside from my very bad French.)

Q: How do you decide what kind of journey you want your characters to go on?

A: That’s a fantastic, huge question! Those first flashes I always have of a novel are of the main character in some sort of inner turmoil. So I tend to know the reason I’m going to be telling their story in the first place, but figuring out how to show it all and get from point A to B to C, takes a lot of mapping out!

Q: Would you ever write YA fantasy novels again?

A: I love this question! Absolutely, if the right story sparked! I had so much fun writing the Gilded Wings Trilogy, I miss those characters and still think of them and what adventures they might still be having! And I do miss writing magic and superpowers, it was always exciting to get to dream up those elements. So, you never know, I might just have to get back to that! ;)

THE SUMMER SET

Author: Aimee Agresti

Publication Date: May 12, 2020

Publisher: Graydon House Books

Buy Links:

Harlequin

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Books-A-Million

Powell’s

Social Links:

Author Website

Twitter: @AimeeAgresti

Instagram: @aimeeagresti

Facebook: @AimeeAgrestiAuthor

Goodreads

#book review #summer romance #rom com #beach read #summer reading #Summer Reads #theatre #theater fan #theatre fan #theater #theater festivals #aimee agresti

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lethesomething · 7 years ago

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You guys I wrote a book

It's starting to trickle in that I wrote a book. Now, I realize this isn't that fancy an achievement, because a: it's fanfic, and that automatically disqualifies it as a 'book' to some people and b: by fanfic standards, it's not that big a deal. Like I know it's not super popular, and also I'm no SkittyDyne (who is utterly amazing, but not, I suppose, a very healthy standard of length to strive for). But this is still something I've wanted to do for a Very Long Time, and I'm pretty proud of myself that I was able to finish it, so in the interest of explaining to fanfic writers everywhere what they're getting themselves into, and to sate my own curiosity: have some numbers.

How long is it

The Word document that is my finished manuscript is 234 pages long (Times New Roman, font size 12) It contains 130,040 words, which, holy shit, is more than Harry Potter and the Philosopher's stone (76.944 words, according to the internets) and The Hobbit (95.022 words). Book wise, this is apparently about the size of LOTR's The Return of the King (134,462 words).

LKS also tops out at 769,712 characters.

Fun factoid: In my experience, freelance writers around my parts receive €0.015 to €0.025 per character for work in print, such as a magazine or newspaper. Up to €0.033 or more if they get a good deal. That's €11,500, up to €24,400 if I'd spent all that time writing for pay, instead of as a hobby (please note that this is not a complaint, I'm very much doing this for fun).

How much room does it take

There exist, at this time, 114 versions of my manuscript, across two laptops and one Google Drive. This tells you that I'm a bit of a mess, but also, that I have a lot of back-ups (always make back-ups, kids). There are also about six planning and assorted note documents. The final version of the manuscript, by the way, takes up 1.630 kB, or 1.6 MB. Fun factoid: It would not fit on a 3,5 inch floppy disk (also, I am old).

How much time does it take

It is now 17 months and a half ago, that @leeva-z-kai sent me the fateful pm that kickstarted this whole thing (it basically said 'how about you just combine your au's and story ideas', but with prettier words). The first 8 chapters of the current version went up a month later.

LKS has 46 chapters, with a an average of about 3k words per chapter. And each of those chapters took about 12 hours to make. Some longer, some less, but that's a pretty close average. This includes writing and editing. That's 552 hours, with some added planning work. Fun factoid: in my part of the world, office workers tend to have a work week of 38 hours. In this system the book would have taken 14.5 work weeks to complete. Please remember this when you tell fanfic writers some version of 'give me more content faster': every minute you read takes an hour of someone's time to write.

How much support does it take

This is the sentimental bit. I very much believe in self-motivated writing. If you are not a copywriter, it is a good idea to write first and foremost for yourself. This means you won't give up when you're making gen fic that sits at a steady 47 views for ages. That is not to say you can't use support. Especially for a project this long. A writer is not an island and you need someone, preferably several someones, to lean on. Support comes in many forms. It can come in the form of a pm and an offer for initial beta reading, like Keiji. It is also someone to whine at, bounce ideas off of, just… chat at about your fic, like @bsinoranges, or @haruhi02, or @tottwriter, or milksalt, who is not on tumblr. It very much, and this is important, comes in the form of comments and kudos, like a few dedicated readers coming back every few chapters to let you know that yes, they're still following you, and no, you're not writing into the void, like @seamarmot and a few others. (don't think I didn't notice, holy shit did I notice). I've been lucky enough to have received all these types of support and honestly? Thank you. I truly don't think I'd have done it without you.

#writing #fanfic #fanfic woes #also sentimental blathering #lethey whines #urban fantasy au

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acehotel · 8 years ago

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INTERVIEW: LYNN BREEDLOVE

Note: The following interview contains sensitive material that could be triggering for some readers.

Lynn Breedlove speaks calmly, honestly and resolutely. Nothing obscured, nothing censored. Through decades of work as a musician — Lynn was the founder and frontperson of the first American out dyke punk band Tribe8 — a writer, comedian, activist, CEO and radio personality, he has become a vanguard and visionary, working fiercely and fearlessly on behalf of trans, queer, POC and working class communities. Lynn Breedlove is revolutionary in his thinking, even if just for the radical potential he sees in unexpected things — the simple act of conversation, the nuances of a joke, a rubber dick, a ride home. In an era of immense uncertainty, Lynn is a light through.

Lynn was a keynote speaker at last week’s New York Live Arts' Mx'd Messages Festival, a series curated by Justin Vivian Bond that examinines the idea of a world without binaries — across gender, politics, theology, sensory perception and race. We were lucky enough to catch up with Lynn to chat about the beauty of vulnerability, the 90s queer punk scene and what daily resistance looks like.

You’re so prolific. You’ve written novels, you’ve toured in bands, you’ve had your own comedy show and radio program and you’re the CEO of a ride-sharing company. Do all of these satisfy different artistic parts of yourself? Or do you feel closer to one, and feel the need to constantly experiment with others?

LB: I have two talents, writing and performing, which I have spent some decades honing in to some semblance of skill. There are a million different options to express myself using those two talents. Stand-up comedy, music, books, radio. The easiest thing for me to do is get up and write, but then there’s the way of organizing the writing. That’s where I have to involve other people to help me, and it becomes a collaboration.

What is the collaborative element to performance?

LB: There’s an energy loop that happens between me, whoever I’m on stage with and the audience. All these different loops inform what happens next. It’s ongoing.

I was struck by your email signature, “Courage is fear with breath.” Writing can be a very private and personal endeavor, whereas performance opens things up in a very public way. How have you found the courage to translate the private to the public?

LB: I feel like self-disclosure is just a totally innate, natural impulse for me. I'm just like, "Blah, blah, I'm sad, my cat died." It's over-sharing. I've had to consider whether or not I wanted to put any boundaries on that. Sometimes I just blurt it all out, run around with my dick out, do all kinds of shit and later, years later, I'm like, "Oh my God. What were you thinking, dude? Really?"

Apparently people were entertained and it made whatever impression it was supposed to make. I don't even know if it made the impression that I wanted it to make. I let my gut tell me where to go and then if I have to make amends later with my brain, then I do.

With One Freak Show, my door was always open. I always loved to get off stage and talk to the audience members.

I was dealing with some pretty edgy stuff — a lot of discussions about what it meant to be trans. The whole LGBTIQ community — which is not a community, but a group of communities and individuals who have a whole bunch of different opinions about what to do and say — was having some issues communicating and accepting each other, so I was really interested in talking to people after the show and getting feedback.

And people would be like, "Well, you know, this part was weird, this other part was weird, too. And I would say, "Well, what do you think would be better?" Or "Do you think this part was too over the top?" And I'd be like, "Dude, can I tell people that I got your permission to say that so that they don't think that I'm making fun of stuff?"So, it was just really great to have that [dialogue]. There was one really memorable conversation with this guy. It was a daytime Tribe8 show where I had chopped off the rubber dick and threw it in the crowd and it bounced off of somebody's head and everybody felt better. Well, this guy didn't feel better. So, he went to talk to me after and said, "My God, this really hurt". And I was like,"Was that upsetting for you?" He was like "Yeah, yeah. It's abusive and I'm triggered." And I said, "Okay, well check this out. Imagine, you walk down the street everyday and you're in constant fear and constantly having to worry, just a nagging basic undercurrent that you're going to get raped. Everyday because everybody everyday is afraid. And every second that you're not looking out, you get attacked and jumped. And everybody you know has been raped. How do you feel about them? If that was the case, do you feel like you might want to sing a song that is symbolic of your suffering? Hm?" And he was like "Hm, maybe". And I was like, "Yeah, well that's how we feel. We walk around, feeling that way and we've gotta have a cathartic ritual. And we've gotta work out the anger somehow." And he’s all, "Oh okay."

So, I could have a friendly conversation with a guy afterwards and turn it around. And hopefully, he could go out into the world for the rest of his life and talk to all the guys that he was gonna talk to about this and spread different news.

Do you think that humor can be a medium to discuss change?

LB: Absolutely. It's the only way for me. Your heart opens when you laugh. Comics can tell funny story after funny story after funny story and then they come in at the end with the zinger and make you cry. Love that shit.

You lower your guard when you're laughing. You've got everybody laughing at themselves and each other and everybody's forgiving. And then you're okay. And that's how we learn.

But if you're constantly wagging your finger at people and saying, "You should do it this way because you're wrong," nobody will listen to that. They shut down. Nothing gets in.

So, yeah, humor is crucial, but comedy rots. Richard Pryor, for years, would say the N word and later, he was like “I'm actually not gonna say the N word anymore”. With One Freak Show, I use the T word a lot and I’ve been discussing whether or not it's okay to use the T word if you identify as trans, even if you use that word to describe yourself and you have for years, and suddenly along come some other people who are like, "Well, I don't like that word." What does all that mean? What does language mean? What does coping mean? So with humor, it's now. And then next week it's gonna be something different. And you have to constantly stay on top of where your culture is, where your society is, where current events are and what is okay to say and what is not okay to say, how to describe your experience and how to not describe it.

Lenny Bruce talked about racism. I thought it was very effective in 1965, but now, the words that he used and the concepts, the points he was trying to make, even if they were trying to take away power from people who had it, couldn’t be made now the way he made them then.

Does it retroactively make it less effective?

LB: If you look at Mark Twain’s Huck Finn, he used the N word quite a bit. But his intention behind using the N word was to say, "This is what southern society and southern culture is now. It's racist." It's built into their language. Language is culture and LOOK AT IT. And the only person that's transcending this culture is a child that's pushed out on the periphery by poverty. That kid is free to choose a different way. Even he is constantly questioning, "Is this right?"

And then they have people saying, "Let’s ban this book." I think we need to use a scalpel instead of a sledgehammer to figure out how we want to discuss ideas.

What do you think daily resistance looks like?

LB: Well, the first thing I have to do everyday is not go to my phone and look at the latest nonsense that DT, Dick Tater, is doing. (That's the drag name I made up for him.) That's not gonna drive me.

What drives me: I wake up and I do spiritual practice, first thing. Prayer, meditation, yoga, shooting hoops with the pals — whatever it is that helps ground me in my reality. And then, I feel solid enough to go connect with my people. And then, after I write my morning pages, and I know what I feel and what I think, and after I’ve written my dreams down and I see that I'm having stress dreams about the apocalypse, I can asses where I am. Then, I can go and look at the news if I want.

Maybe I'm just gonna get to work. I'm gonna hire people that I like, that I feel need work and that I want to work with. People that are POC, trans, queer — these are the kind of people I want to work with, that I want to make art with.

I want to create a world that includes people that I like and that I respect and that I relate to. And people that are all on the same road of resisting together by the things that we do everyday. Whether we're in a band together or we work together. That's how I want to create my world.

And then, if I have to chain myself to a fence, well that's great. Because I'm gonna be ready for that. Because I will have spent the previous month gearing up and being strong. If you keep revving at 100 rpm all day long and go to every protest and sing your guts out, you're going to burn out.

How do you think punk has changed from the time of its inception? How do you think it functions now in terms of art, music and politics?

Well punk seems to be a whole bunch of different iterations now. It started in the late 60s with Iggy Pop and Lou Reed and all those guys, and then later with Patti Smith and Bad Brains and everyone else.

And then you have the “four white guys” for ten years in the 80s. And Black Flag was one of those four white guys bands. But, now there's a lot of trans, queer, non-binary, non-gender conforming, and lots of different cultures coming through with the punk ethic, carried through all different styles of music. It's not as restricted by verse-chorus-verse-chorus 3 chords, monosyllabic grunting. There's drag and guerilla drag that I feel lbelongs in the punk category because of its ethos. Because it's accurate in what it represents, because it’s fucking it up, because it’s folk music, basically.

Like Woody Guthrie, but it doesn't have to be a guy with an acoustic guitar. Anybody that's bucking the system with music falls into the punk category.

Yeah, it's protest music. Tribe8 was insanely influential in that scene. You were deemed leaders of the queer punk revolution. Can you tell me a little bit about the impetus for Tribe8 and how it all came together?

Me and Silas had just gotten sober and we had a lot of energy and we had to put it somewhere. And I was just around, spouting and spewing all kinds of rhymes about being a dyke and all my hilarious mental illnesses like, "I just want to manipulate my girlfriend. I just want to play games with her head. I want her to do some mental push ups. I want her to apologize and beg.”

I thought it was hilarious and so did my friends and they were like, "Why didn't you put that to music and get a bunch of people together and make a band and play at my birthday party?" And we did. So then boom: we were all of a sudden a band and people were throwing panties at us.

But to be fair we did pass out the panties.

You passed out the panties?

LB: We passed out the panties to our friends to make them throw panties at us.

Still, that must have been a really good feeling even if you knew it was going to happen.

LB: It was hilarious. Everything we did was spoofing boy glam rock and stupid stadium rock shit that dudes had been doing for 20 years. That influenced us greatly. And we loved that. Silas grew up in Vermont, listening to Bon Jovi. "Livin' on a Prayer" and Motley Crüe.

We loved it — but it wasn't about us. And it wasn't for us and it wasn't by us. We had to reclaim it and then put a new spin on it. It was [a reflection] of what I was learning as an alcoholic in church basements. Which was that you've gotta look at your shit and then you've got to laugh at your shit. And you've got to tell people, "This is my shit, it's so ridiculous. But here it is."

That's where I was, and I feel like we all got to do that for a minute. We were like, "Oh my God, I fucking love Bon Jovi. That is so dumb but I do. So how are we going to work this in so we love it?"

They have so much fun. People with power and privilege have a bunch of fun. And for the people who don't have power and privilege that’s just sit on the sidelines and go, "Wah, they get to have all the fun..." That’s not necessary.

You see people singing gospel at church and you feel like you can't be a part of it because of your big queer mouth. But fuck you. I just did it. I'm Aretha Franklin and I just sang a gospel song about fucking, how about that?

What was the queer punk scene like in San Francisco in the 90s? Do you have a favorite memory?

LB: What happened is that all of a sudden it looked like the dyke scene was going down because all the dyke bars closed at the same time. I don't know what happened, all the dykes got sober at the same time and they couldn't fucking keep the bars open because they would come in there, order a Calistoga, pick out another babe and come back five years later and do the same thing. They couldn't stay open.

Calistoga, classic.

LB: We had to do something, so everybody started to go to straight bars and asked them if we could have a queer monthly or weekly night. And so we'd start having these queer punk dance parties, like Rebel Girl, Junk, etc. Then all these bands started cropping up all over the place, like DeathCard 13 and Her Majesty the Baby and so much other stuff. All these dykes and fags started to make bands happen and that was amazing because before that queers had to go to the disco if they wanted to hang out with other queers, and they had to order a fucking martini or a beer and they had to listen to Sylvester. Which was great, don’t get me wrong. I love Sylvester to death, and I loved Doing the Hustle in the 70s. But when I went home with my friends, we would listen to Queen and we would listen to Rock and Roll.

But you couldn't hear Queen at The End Up. You had to listen to Sylvester, which was great. Again, Sylvester was amazing. I love Sylvester. Sylvester created an amazing moment in the 70s where we were like, "Oh, my God. This guy is our guy and he is on the fucking radio." (At the time, we called Sylvester “he”).

But what the 90s queer-mo punk scene in San Francisco was about was the culture. It was kind of the epicenter of the queer punk scene and when we went to Europe and stuff we would bring that culture with us. New York had its own whole other thing, which was pretty rad. I would say the dyke punk scene was happening primarily in San Francisco. Then we would carry it like a little flame around the world and say, "Look at what we're doing! We've got the Butch/Femme thing and the Punk thing and we have mohawks and a face full of metal and ink and rubber dicks," and they'd be like, "Whoa."

How did other places respond?

LB: Well, most people were like, "Yeah, that's cool. For you. But we're not going to do that." New York did not actually get the Butch/Femme thing until maybe like the late 90s. I think a bunch of femmes moved there from San Francisco and they had to have a Butch makeover party at Meow Mix because they were like, “There are no Butches in New York. All the Butches are wearing lipstick and barrettes. We can't do this. No. So, they threw Butch makeover parties and, of course, all the dykes in New York wanted to go have babes fawn over them and put them in wife-pleasers and cut their hair and put them in boxers and fucking ties or whatever, but when they were done they're like, "Okay, now can we go on a date?" They're like, "Yep. All right." So, that happened.

But also, when we went to East Germany in the early 90s, well, what HAD been East Germany — the wall had just gone down a couple years earlier, but nothing had changed culturally — people were hella mad at us. They did not get the humor at all. They did not have humor in the DDR. That was wrung out of them and beaten out of them and if you wanted a sense of humor I guess you want to jail in the Yellow Misery, I think that was the name of the women's prison. The dudes were like, "Fuck you. How dare you. Really? You cocky bastards. How dare you walk around acting like you're something. You think you're something? You're not something."

They didn't get all the twists and turns of irony that we were pulling on them. They didn’t have the pool of reference, they didn’t get any of it. Everyone was wearing stonewash and the girls had big hair. They all looked like they were straight out of the 70s. It was scary. They were like, "You are a bunch of privileged Americans walking in like you think you're something, with your dick out."

They hated us, but in San Francisco when dudes would come to our show, they totally got it. They loved it. They fucking deferred. They got into the back, they got out of the mosh pit, they let the dykes take over. Bike messengers and strippers were always dating and stuff and they'd have a gnarly badass sex-positive feminist thing going on. So if you were a dude trying to date some badass chick in combat boots and cleavage in the 90s, you better fucking figure out what the hell she's trying to put down if you wanted to get laid. If you don't do what they say, you ain’t getting none of this. The dudes were pretty rad and feminist and standing up for their babes. And they still are.

We just did the Women's March a couple of months ago in San Francisco. First of all, there was what seemed like a half a million babes walking down the streets for hours, hours, hours down Market sStreet. Some of them had their boyfriends, their men with them, that had the coolest signs that were like “Her body, Her rights.” “Quit telling my woman what to do” kind of attitude. Just perfectly-worded signs that you're like, "Oh, my God. These guys get it."

Usually guys will just be like, "Oh, that's your thing. I'll just get out of the way." In the 60s, when feminists first started doing that, dudes were like, "Yeah, the pill will be good because I'll get laid more." So, I mean, yeah. We're getting somewhere.

I hope so.

LB: But the more things they change, the more they stay the same. Shockingly, there's also been this undercurrent rising — which for some folks has not been such an undercurrent. It's been really obvious and in your face. If you're a person of color or if your trans or a daily target of bigotry, you're going, "Yeah, no, this isn't really a shock."

I kind of thought that we were doing better. I thought people actually were changing. I actually did things that the assholes were in a way smaller minority and I was like, "Yeah, it's too bad you don't like having a black president. Isn't that hard? Shut it." I didn't feel like there would be such a major backlash of a retaliation, "You made us be led by a black man for eight years. Now we're going to fucking fuck you up." Really? Whoa.

Hopefully it’s the last, desperate gasps of that ideology, grasping at it as if for air. At least now it’s becoming visible for everyone that there’s so much darkness among us. We’ve always known it existed, but it’s actually showing itself in large, monolithic, terrifying ways.

LB: That’s really important. Awareness begets action. If any of us have been in denial about what level of bullshit exists, what element of bullshit exists in this country, we now know. Now we can deal with it. It's not going to be dealt with totally painlessly. I'm going to Europe and I feel like I have to sew a fucking maple leaf on my backpack.

What has been keeping you inspired?

LB: I'd say there's a lot of stuff being put out by trans women of color and people of color in general which is very inspiring. There was a video I saw the other day about parents of color teaching their children what to do when they see the police. It was heart breaking. It was fucking heart breaking. That that's what a person has to do to keep their child safe. Telling them, when you see a police officer, that is not your friend but you have to show them respect anyway and you have to put your hands up and say, "I have nothing to harm you," and this child is five years old. You know what I mean? But okay. That is what MLK would say, when you're going to sit at the lunch counter, you're going to have to maintain dignity and not fight back and you'll have to put your hands up. Gandhi said it, too. All the non-violent resistance actually worked and yeah, people understand and they're organizing and teaching them how to do that in the world. I think it is amazing.

What else. Coming together and organizing and saying to each other, "Okay, now who can get arrested? Let's not let the trans people get arrested. Let's not let the people of color get arrested. If they get arrested, they’re going to have shit to deal with, but if you're a white person who's never been arrested before and you're cisgender and you're not too queer looking, great, let's get you arrested. You'll be fine.“

I love the way we're all coming together and willing to resist. We feel because we have lived in a country with certain ostensible ideals, we do feel like we have some power to speak up and the difference between us and Franco’s Spain or Mussolini's Italy or Hitler's Germany is that we have that.

We're all “hell no.” I love how people are rising up. The city of San Francisco is planning a Trans Cultural District at the old Compton’s Cafeteria, named after one of the first riots against the police where trans people rose up and were like, "No, we're not going to tell you what kind of underwear we're wearing." This was before Stonewall. They’re getting a whole block of real estate, and it’ll have transitional housing for trans women coming out of prison. There will viable employment situations. I mean, I love that we just keep delving more into that kind of thing.

The more bullshit you want to raise about what bathroom I need to go in or whether or not I can get an M or an F on my passport and whether or not you're going to let me cross a border or let my friends cross a border, the more I'm just going to make my shit fucking be cool right here, in my house, in my neighborhood. I'm going to really work on my local politics, my local culture.

I love the way cities are saying, "Oh, we are going to be a sanctuary city. No, we're actually not going to do what you say.” The New York Police Department standing up and being like, "No, we’re actually not going to harass immigrants. Fuck you." That's what needs to happen.

The police, the military, the people who have the guns and the sticks and the badges, they need to not fall into the trap. My mom was raised in Nazi Germany so I grew up asking, "Hey, mom, why did the [Holocaust happen]?" She was like, "Well, we were scared." People were always saying, "Well, I was just following orders." It's like no, that can't be your excuse. If your order is wrong, you can't follow it. You do have to take that to your grave, knowing that you're responsible for following an immoral order. So I was really impressed by the New York Police Department.

What advice do you have for queer and trans youth?

LB: One of the first things that happens when a dictatorship comes into power is that people start to anticipate a new law and start voluntarily following that law before it’s even a law. They start doing things that they think the government is going to want them to do as a defensive move. Censoring themselves, hiding who they are...It’s important that we become even more visibly queer. Even more visibly trans.

But again, everybody has their own way to resist and for a lot of people, visibility isn't the thing. That feels unsafe.

Everybody needs to follow their own gut about how to do that, but I feel like maintaining integrity and staying really connected with your community and not isolating oneself is crucial. Because I think it seems really alluring to go lock yourself in your house and sit in front of the little glowing screen and just drink and smoke a lot of weed and take a lot of pills and just pretend it's not there. No. I mean, it's easy for me to say because I’m clean and sober 27 years so I can't expect everybody else that's already been drinking and smoking weed and popping pills all day to suddenly decide, "Now's a good time to stop."

But I do think what's needed right now is clarity. I feel like the higher you are, the easier you're going to be to manipulate and taken down and thrown in jail and have other things done to you. You have to get your brain cells together and connect with other people with their brain cells and we need to be strong physically, mentally and spiritually and fuck shit up. They want us to be scared and to be high and be ineffectual.

Right.

LB: There was a trans person performing the other night who was totally amazing and she was like, "I'm so freaked out, so I am really high right now. I have to be really high all the time because that's how I'm dealing with this.” There were several trans women murdered in New Orleans recently, and that was really, really scary for trans women of color. That is a terror. I definitely would not judge somebody who feels that drugs or alcohol is their only out, but there are a lot of people in the world that will help you out of that. If you feel like that's your only option and you don't want that to be your option, there's a lot of people that will guide you to other options.

Tell us about Homobiles.

LB: Well, there's Homobiles [the rideshare service] and then there's The Homobiles, the band.

Homobiles the ride service was started before Uber. Uber existed as like a limo service, a black car service, and it was kind of high priced and Lyft did not exist. We started zipping around doing this text thing, loosely inspired by my all girl bike messenger and truck messenger delivery company called Lickety Split. Homobiles were really time-oriented and all about queer people and those who are, because of their gender or sexuality, a little more vulnerable at night in the city.

We were handling people coming out of gay bars that cabs were whizzing by and ignoring and then Uber was like, "Wait a minute. This looks like something good. Let’s do what they're doing business model wise, only it’s for profit," and then Lyft came in and they were like, "Yes, we're going to do this." They became billion dollar global industries in that space, but we became a non-profit. Basically, the way it works is if you have money, good. Donate it. It goes into this kind of transportation fund and if you don't have money, then great. You'll still get a ride. There's no price on safety.

We really like to help people get home from their sexual alignment surgery. Maybe they don't want to get in a car with some random person that's not going to treat them with the dignity that they deserve. They want to get into the car with people who have some sensitivity training. The public utilities commission actually pointed out Homobiles when trying to regulate other rideshare services. They said, “See Homobiles is doing it right. You guys should do it like them. Don't discriminate against people because of their race, their gender, any of that. Treat them with respect. Don't gouge them.” I feel like even though Homobiles isn’t the only option, any time you get into a [rideshare] vehicle these days, 99% of the time you're going to be treated fairly and with respect because of the standards that Homobiles put into place. I’m pretty happy about that. It would be nice if we made a million dollars, but the primary goal is everybody's getting home safe.

What about Homobiles the band?

LB: There's a band called The Homobiles. We sing songs about cars and babes but also crimes and change. Ed Varga, who was the creator of Homo A Go Go, is the drummer and his wife, Corrie is the violinist and Stephany Joy Ashley's the executive director of St James Infirmary, which is a clinic for sex workers in the Tenderloin. She’s the singer and I'm the singer and Fureigh from the Shondes plays guitar and Mya Byrne is the bass player and we're about to go to New York to play this fabulous of refuting binaries called Mx'd Messages. And yeah, that's that. We’re having a good time.

Thanks for reading. If you’re an artist, too, feel free to use code ARTSCHOOL for a discount on any room at Ace Hotel New York.

#yes #interview #lynn breedlove #tribe8 #LGBTQ #activism #punk #queer punk #San francisco #resist #music #art

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