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budget2245learn · 2 years ago

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Life’s Work: An Interview with Dean Koontz

Dean Koontz is one of the world’s most prolific and best-selling writers, with more than 120 novels to his name. During a difficult childhood, books were his refuge, so he has devoted his life—6:30 AM to dinnertime, six days a week, for the past five decades—to creating fictional worlds across a range of genres for his devoted readers.

HBR: Where do you find your creative energy and stamina?

Koontz: It goes back to what books meant to me when I was young. I came from a very poor family. My dad was a violent alcoholic. Books were both an escape and a lesson that other lives were different. They showed me the level of success the world offered. And that was plenty of motivation to change my destiny. I realized that you can make what you want of life, and I don’t think I’ve ever stopped feeling that way. I’ve never stopped being excited about books and the potential of them.

So there’s never been a time when you’ve thought, I can’t keep doing this anymore?

If I wrote the same book every time, which is what publishers prefer you to do, I would go profoundly nuts. It’s a formula-driven business—if you’ve written one book about a bricklayer, they want you to write 1,000 books about a bricklayer—but I’m constantly changing things up. The advice has been not to do that, not to mix genres, not to try different kinds of storytelling, and I understand that. It’s more difficult to market a book that’s not like the book that everybody bought and enjoyed before. On the other hand, doing anything for as long as I’ve done this can lead to boredom, and change—going for something you haven’t gone for before and that you’re terrified you’re going to fail at—is how I avoid it. When an idea comes to me, and it seems too big to write, too complicated to convey to a reader, that’s when I’m most energized. The challenge is a medicine against boredom. It inoculates you.

How do you gauge the right level of creative risk to take?

I wrote a book many years ago called The Bad Place, with a character, Thomas, who’s a boy with Down syndrome. My agent at the time, after reading the manuscript, called me up and said, “The Thomas character is pure genius. I can’t believe you pulled this off.” And I said, “You know, I loved writing from that character so much I thought about doing an entire novel from the point of view of someone with Down syndrome.” She was silent for about half a minute, then said, “There’s such a thing as too much genius.” But I think you can pull off anything if you put your mind to it. Language is so flexible and beautiful and offers so many techniques to a writer.

You initially wrote under pseudonyms. When did you realize that your name carried currency?

In my early days, every time I did something a little bit different, which was most of the time, agents and publishers would say, “You must have a pen name.” I was naive, so I did. Then gradually I saw that something was happening around the books under my own name. I wasn’t a best-selling author yet, but we were getting 30 or 40 letters a week, instead of three or four. So in the late ’70s or early ’80s, my wife and I decided to buy back the rights to many of my books. We had to stretch ourselves, and other writers thought I was insane. Publishers would sell them back to me, but often at what they’d paid me for them, which meant that I had essentially done the books for nothing. But there were two reasons we did it. One, I had written a number of science fiction novels, and we knew that if they stayed in print, I would forever be a science fiction writer in critics’ minds. Once they label you, it takes years to get past it. So by buying those titles back, we were eliminating that danger. Two, we felt the other books would have ongoing value if I became a bigger seller. I remember one case where we went to the publisher of four of my books that I’d written under a pen name and asked to buy them back. I don’t know whether it was a bad day for him or he was just mean-spirited, but he said, “You can have them for nothing. They’re worthless anyway.” And rather than be insulted, we said, “Well, thank you very much.” And the very first one of those four that we released under my name spent six weeks at number one on the New York Times paperback best-seller list and sold two million copies in the first year. And that showed us that we’d been right. We could tell that enthusiasm was building. It wasn’t delusion. Then it was just slow, incremental sales growth and critical reception that started to be of a different kind.

It took 18 years to get from your first novel, Starquest, to your first best seller. Was that a frustrating wait?

It’s such a thrill to be published in the first place. If you’ve been dreaming about a life of books since you were a child, you can go for years on a modest level of success and feel perfectly comfortable. But it was frustrating later on when I felt that certain books had what it took, but we weren’t getting the support to make it happen—or when we would have a paperback best seller, but my hardcover publisher would say, “Oh, you’ll never have a hardcover best seller.” Eventually I understood that success requires the support of an agent and publishing, and I had to move at various times in my career—not out of agitation or anger but just when it became apparent that change was necessary. Sometimes it’s painful to do, because you’re leaving people you’ve come to like very much. But it’s not them, it’s the system that isn’t working for you anymore.

When you have a hit book, is there huge pressure to do it again?

My first book to reach number one in hardcover was called Midnight. My publisher called me and said, “I have wonderful news.” But before I could say, “Whoopee!” she said, “Now you must understand: You do not write the kind of books that can be number one, and this will never happen again.” And my balloon of excitement was deflated in an instant. We had four number-one books after that, and she said the same thing every single time. So at first I didn’t have pressure to keep it up; instead, I had to keep proving myself. Finally I said, “I have to go somewhere where they think it is going to happen again.”

What is your approach to working with editors?

Working well together is crucial. I had one situation in which I was very excited about a publisher and editor, then discovered I was getting editorial by committee—all kinds of notes that conflicted with one another. An editorial relationship has to be real and between me and somebody I respect, and I’ve been mostly fortunate in that regard. I know there are some writers who don’t want to take any direction. But even though I’m obsessive-compulsive as a writer—I rewrite every page 20 or 30 times before I move to the next one, so I turn in a pretty clean manuscript—I know a good editor can always spot things I haven’t thought of or make little fixes. And there’s no reason not to listen with an open mind: “Yeah, I could do that” or “No, I can’t.” It forces you to explain why you did things a certain way. And if you can’t, if something doesn’t have a thematic reason you can easily lay out, then you did sort of fudge it, and you’ve got to revisit it. If you can answer the question, it makes it clear that you did it for the right reasons. Now, my wife is my toughest and fairest critic. When she reads something and has a problem, I look at it in a very serious way. If she doesn’t have a problem, I feel more confident with it.

Your wife has played such a big role in your professional life. Is it difficult living and working together?

I know people who think it’s the sure road to divorce. But our offices are side by side in the house, so it’s 24/7—and I can’t imagine it any other way. One reason our marriage works so well is that we share the same sense of humor—ranging from dark to silly. We both know that there is almost nothing in life that isn’t funny in retrospect, and if you have that attitude, work and domestic issues don’t get as serious, because you know a month or a year or two from now, it’s all going to look very small. Also, she has a different set of skills and abilities than I do, so we fit together like a puzzle, almost. Her skill is accounting and numbers, and mine is not. I probably haven’t written a check in a year and very few over the past 50, and I never could balance a checkbook. So all of that’s lifted from me, and I get to focus more intently on what I do.

Your books have become more literary over time, but they’re still accessible. How do you find that balance?

I started out in paperbacks, a market in which entertainment comes first. But I think it should anyway. Dickens is enormously entertaining at the same time that he’s literary. I always have been in love with language, but over time it became a more profound love, and my books started changing. Of course, I can’t tell you how many times I was told to write with a lesser vocabulary because I was turning off readers. But in the quality of letters I get and at book signings, I can see that my readers are articulate and engaged, so I know who I’m writing for. When I was a young writer, I thought there were a certain number of tricks to writing, and once you learned all of them, the books would get easier. Actually, the books get harder because there are an infinite number of tricks, and the ones you haven’t learned yet are more difficult. Language is so pliable. There’s so much you can do with it, and it can be frustrating when your ability isn’t yet what you wish it would be. But if something comes out in a paragraph that is just what I wanted to say, just the way I wanted to say it, and I think it will resonate with a lot of readers, that’s the best, most exciting thing. It’s also exciting when you find yourself in a flow state. You can’t make it happen, but one day you’ll be sitting at the keyboard, and the words will come with a solidity and a richness and a texture that you usually struggle for, and suddenly there it is.

Tell me about your process from the initial idea for a story or a character to a published book.

I used to write from outlines. But when I wrote Strangers, which ended up having an enormous cast and being about a quarter of a million words, I decided not to do an outline and just start with the premise and a couple of interesting characters. I decided to wing it, and it was the best decision. I’ve never used an outline since. I start with a bit of an idea, a central theme, a premise, and then I think about it for a little while—not for weeks and months, but days—and then I begin. If the character doesn’t work in the first 20 pages, you might as well quit. If a character comes alive, I let the character move the story along. This is the hardest thing to explain to young writers. You tell yourself that you know exactly who a character is and try to make that character conform. If you give the character free will, the character becomes richer, more layered, more interesting. It’s the oddest thing, but it’s true. Characters can take over, and they will take books to better places than they would have gone if you’d set a template and written everything according to it. I do sometimes know a key thing about the ending or something at the center of the plot or a key scene here or there, but generally I don’t know much. I remember I was working on a book called The Face, and right in the middle of it a line came into my head: “My name is Odd Thomas. I lead an unusual life.” It was like listening to somebody speak, and I recognized it as an opening to a story. I keep a yellow, lined notepad to put down reminders, and I wrote the line down. And even though I never write longhand because I can barely read it, I found myself continuing to write, and hours and hours later when I stopped, I had the first chapter of the book Odd Thomas. And I knew it was going to be a series, even though I’d never written one before. And I sat for the longest time, wondering “Where did this character come from?” To this day I don’t know. But I wrote eight Odd Thomas books.

What does a typical workweek look like for you?

This will sound grueling, but it’s not. I usually get up at five in the morning, get ready for the day, walk the dog, read the Wall Street Journal. By 6:30, I’m at my desk, then I work until dinner. I rarely have lunch, because if I eat, I get furry-minded. I do that six days a week or, if I’m at the end of a book, seven. If it’s the last quarter of a book, where the momentum is with me, I’ve been known to work 100-hour weeks. That’s all normal for me because when I’m sitting at the screen for 10 hours or so, the real world retreats, and I fall away into the novel more completely. Sometimes I’m in some scene and laughing out loud or moved to tears, and people walking by my office door probably think I’m at the edge of losing my mind.

As a perfectionist who constantly revises, how do you ensure that you still make progress?

All I can say is, it works for me. I don’t know that it would for other people. Every time you go through a page, you’ll find ways not just to tighten but to say things better, with more vivid figures of speech. And there’s a momentum to that, too. You’re not necessarily advancing the story 10 pages a day, but you’re advancing its quality. And then, because this slows you down, you can recognize that you’re going to hit a problem 30 or 40 pages on. With my pace, I find that when I get to that moment, I have two or three ways to resolve it even though I wasn’t consciously thinking about them. Writers I know who don’t work this way, when they bump up against a problem, they can’t get around it. They have writer’s block. I never run into that. And I think it all has to do with this way of working.

How have you successfully navigated all the big changes in the publishing business?

I’ve watched things happen that publishers couldn’t possibly control, and I’ve watched things happen that they could have controlled but didn’t think they needed to. One of those was to let the paperback business basically die. There were once I think 500 distributors of paperbacks, and now it’s down to four or five. A lot of publishers never quite grasped the rise of ebooks. Last year, my agents made the argument that I would probably sell more books with Amazon than with anybody else. And one of the key things was its marketing proposal. We looked at eight publishers and some of them came with a one-page plan. Others came with eight or 10 pages. The Amazon plan was around 30, and impressive and thoughtful. So we did a contract for five books. Maybe some of the traditional publishing people think I’m a traitor, but all the ones I know, even independent booksellers, have said it was a great move.

You’ve described yourself as an autodidact. How do you keep up that constant learning?

In high school and even college, I was—and wasn’t—a slacker. The things I wanted to read and do were more important to me than what my teachers wanted me to read and do, so I would often fake a report—either I’d not have read the book or I’d make up the book titles for my bibliography. I never got caught. I just didn’t want to do research. When I was writing science fiction and fantasy, I had to have some basic scientific knowledge, but I could also just make most of it up. In contemporary fiction, though, you have to be sure you’ve got it right. I didn’t want to get letters from readers. So I started doing research, and to my great surprise, I found that learning about something new and being able to make it part of the story, to impart it in an entertaining way, was something I greatly enjoyed. I got interested in some pretty complicated things, like quantum mechanics, and I found that the more I taught myself, the more story ideas would come to me.

I read that you delegate some research, because you don’t want to get stuck down a rabbit hole that takes you away from writing. Is that true?

I don’t go online in my office. If I do, five hours later, I’ll still be on some site. But my assistants are online, so I’ll ask them to find this or that out for me. And then they’ll give me a printout. Or I may go and sit with them. But I always read and vet the research myself.

Have you made any big mistakes in your career?

I had one early agent I could have done without. I was already number one on the paperback best-seller list, and the terms I was getting in contracts struck me as very primitive. She kept telling me that things I was asking for could never be gotten. But I knew a writer lower on the best-seller list who was getting those very things. Either my agent didn’t know this—in other words, didn’t know her job—or was for some reason more interested in pleasing the publisher than the client. I stayed with her many years despite the suspicion that I wasn’t getting good representation, because I thought she was a great person. I allowed my feelings to smother my business instinct. For years, my behavior was that of the adult child of an alcoholic. I always thought, If I rock this boat at all, everything will come crashing down. It was a kind of disbelief that it could be working as well as it was. Before that, I was represented by an agent, who I also loved as a person, but I had to leave him, too, because he started shipping outlines back to me, saying, “I can’t sell this.” When I asked, “Why not?” he said, “Because you’re trying to write a bigger book than you can. You’re a successful midlist author, but you’ll never be a best seller.” And I said, “I’m 28. There has to be growth and hope.” There was a 14-year period when I had no agent, just an entertainment law attorney. But then the business began changing, and I needed some guidance, and I finally made the best connection I could have hoped for at Inkwell Management. So you can just keep trying, and it will work.

Do you foresee ever retiring?

I don’t know what I’d do if I wasn’t writing. It defines me. I love doing it. I do have a spiritual side, and I think that talent is a grace, an unearned gift. And it comes with an obligation to use it as well as you can.

#writing #plotting

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princessphilly · 4 years ago

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Word count: 5627

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CW: angst, meeting the family, references to the n-word, people sucking

I decided to go ahead and finish it when I got a sudden burst of creativity when I came home.

Nina snuggled in bed, a happy little sigh leaving her lips. Sidney looked at her, a fond smile on his face. It had been a month since they were back together and life was almost perfect. Well, they were 6-3-2, 14 points earned which was okay but not where Sidney wanted the team to be. It was still early in the season, it was mid-November so there was plenty of time to right the ship. He and the boys would fix it. Sidney sighed before attempting to try to go back to sleep. However, he heard the sound of a door opening and he sat up, pushing the covers down inadvertently.

Sidney racked his brain. It was Sunday, Marta, his housekeeper’s day off. Mario or Nathalie would have called before coming over. He had no idea who the hell it could be. “Fuck,” Sidney breathed. There were only two people who would do a surprise visit and one of them was a week earlier for the Moms trip.

Lightly brushing his fingers over Nina’s side, Sidney urged, “Pretty girl, wake up.”

It was roughly 8am so it wasn’t hard to get Nina, an early riser by nature to wake up. “Urgh, mawning,” Nina mumbled as she cracked open her eyes. Sidney looked anxious and agitated which made Nina focus.

Sidney opened his mouth, then closed it. If he was right, he was fucked and his pretty girl was probably going to run away screaming. He finally said, “Um, someone just opened the door and there are exactly five people other than me who have a key. There are two who’d do a surprise visit.”

Looking down, Nina was thankful that she had on one of Sidney’s shirts and shorts while sleeping. “Well, fuck, at least I’m not naked,” she said pointedly. Sidney had the grace to blush as Nina continued, “If it’s what you think it is, you need to get that under control,” pointing at his rather obvious morning wood. Sidney pulled the covers back over himself and Nina

Then a voice called out, “Morming, Sid!”

Sidney sighed in relief. It was Taylor, not his mom. Nina noticed it and arched an eyebrow. “Eh, it’s my sister, pretty girl.”

“Shit,” Nina fretted. This was going to be awkward, she didn’t even know if she wanted to meet his family but now, she was going to,have to. At least it was a sister.

The door creaked open and a blonde-haired head peeked in. “Boo,” Taylor said. Then her eyes perked when she saw who Sidney was with.

Nina groaned. Her hair was in a scarf, it was obvious she slept over and fuck, fuck, fuck. A devious smile spread on Taylor’s face. “Nice to see that you finally let a girlfriend sleep in your room, Sidney.”

“Shut the fuck up, Taylor,” Sidney yelled as his little sister giggled before closing the door.

Nina facepalmed. “That was fun. Fun fun fun.”

Rolling onto her front, Nina mumbled, “I’m not ready to meet your family.”

“I’ve already met yours,” Sidney reasoned.

“That was because Yanni was part of your Lil Penguins program. That was work related for you, doesn’t count.”

Trailing his fingers down Nina’s back, Sidney replied, “True but, it still counts. What are you doing next weekend?”

“I’m going to be in Philly for a wedding.”

Nina turned onto her left side, facing Sidney. Sidney sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go. “Don’t get any ideas.”

She slipped off the bed, pulling the scarf off her braids, letting them fall down her back. Rummaging through her clothes on the floor, Nina pulled out her bra. Pulling her shirt off, she put it on to the sound of Sidney’s groans. Nina rolled her eyes. “I’m stuck having to meet your sister because she decided to give you a surprise visit. I’m not meeting her without wearing a bra.”

“But you look so amazing without one,” Sidney replied.

Nina shook her head before leaving his bedroom. Making her way to the kitchen, Nina literally bumped into Taylor. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Nina gasped.

“I’m okay,” Taylor reassured Nina, taking the moment to check out this girl that Sidney was now seeing. She wasn’t exactly what Taylor was expecting but one thing that Taylor liked about Nina was that she had kind eyes. Taylor had heard about her over the years, especially that Nina had kept rejecting Sidney. Her brother rarely heard the word no so that made Nina intriguing to her.

Taylor offered, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No, and I’m hungry.”

Opening the fridge, Taylor took out the ingredients to make omelets. Nina sat at the island, a pensive look on her face. “You know, I totally didn’t expect to meet you this way. This is awkward as fuck.”

“Eh, don’t feel bad, I should have given Sid a heads up,” Taylor replied. “Plus, I’ve heard about you over the years.”

“Oh really?”

Taylor laughed as she cracked eggs. “Sidney couldn’t shut up about you. First it was he met this nice girl at work. Then, it was that you kept telling him no and he was confused. Later, he was beating himself up because he managed to fuck up before he could even ask you out. I really enjoyed that, I liked that you kept not only telling him no but when he pissed you off, you didn’t forgive him right away. I love my brother but his ego needs to get cut down sometimes.”

“True, he has a huge ego. He needs to take himself less seriously,” Nina concurred. “But it’s probably impossible to get him to do that.”

Taylor shrugged, pursing her lips. “At least he means well,” Nina added.

Nodding, Taylor replied, “He does mean well, most of the time.”

“Already ganging up on me?”

They both laughed as Sidney entered the kitchen. “Why are you here, Taylor?”

“I went on a camping trip and I decided to be nosy and visit my big brother before heading home,” Taylor chirped. “The look on your face was worth it.”

“Hahaha. Should’ve called,” Sidney grumbled.

Taylor quipped, “Oh, did I ruin your morning sex plans? I’m so sorry.”

Nina snorted as she laughed. Sidney gave her hurt eyes and Nina blew him a kiss.

“Don’t worry Sid, I’m not staying long. Just enough to rest and then get back on the road,” Taylor said.

“You drove,” Nina asked. Sidney was now standing right behind her and she could feel his hands massaging her shoulders.

Taylor nodded as she flipped the first omelet. “You’re not what I expected, Nina. You’re way too pretty for a hockey player like my brother.”

Sidney wanted to kill his little sister as she continued to chirp him. Well, not only chirp him but ruin his planned lazy morning sex. But as he watched his sister and Nina interact playfully, Sidney could admit there was a slight good point. Taylor and Nina were hitting it off and Sidney knew that Nina would meet his family soon. This was a good sign.

However, after practice four days later, Sidney was wishing his sister had never stopped by. Nina had been incredibly busy all week and Sidney knew he wouldn’t see her until next week due to her trip out of town. He was feeling extra irritable and hearing his name over the tv didn’t help.

“So, two weeks ago, Sidney Crosby admitted that he was having relationship issues that were affecting him on the ice.”

Tanger went to change the channel on the tv in the lounge, muttering, “Fucking ESPN.”

“Shh, keep it on,” Sidney urged, crossing his arms over his chest. He wanted to see what kind of bullshit ESPN was saying now.

A couple of the guys stopped to check out the TV. Kevin Neghandi laughed as he responded, “Yeah, he admitted that after breaking a slump. Ever since, he’s been on a 2 point-per-game streak. But this really isn’t about him.”

“Huh,” said Geno, scratching his head.

Buccigross continued, “There was a picture of Crosby and his girlfriend posted on the internet, a nice picture. Someone posted it and made a derogatory statement about his girlfriend, Nina Jackson. This player is a player for Clemson.”

Neghandi laughed again. “Ms. Jackson has a younger brother named Jason Jackson. He was also the number 20 prospect, number 1, 5 star tight end. He also now plays for UNC.”

Sidney chuckled as he realized exactly where this was going. The guy on the tv continued, “Clemson and UNC had the rare Thursday night game last night. #1 Clemson went to the Tar Heels, ranked #22 and got spanked, 56-30. Jason Jackson had 10 catches, 200 yards receiving, and 3 TDs. His response in the postgame.”

The tv showed a clip of Jason talking to the media. A reporter asked, “What inspired you to have such a big game tonight.”

“Lowell decided he needed to talk about my sister on the gram so I had to put him in his place,” Jason drawled.

Sidney’s phone buzzed and it was a message from Nina. my brother is so dramatic 🙄

Nice to know he’ll always have your back, Sidney sent Nina.

Nina smiled happily as she looked at the Thai food on plate. She was so hungry and excited to see Jamila face to face in person for lunch. Her friend looked more vibrant than usual, as life was treating her good. They made small talk until Jamila said, “I heard something about you, that you aren’t single for the first time in forever.”

“Oh really?”

Jamila looked at her best friend. “You’re dating Mayo boy.”

“What?!?” Perplexed, Nina stared at Jamila while Jamila rolled her eyes.

“Sidney Crosby is like Mayo. Super white. Damn, my dating habits really did rub off on you. Welcome to being a basic bitch like me.”

It was Nina’s turn to roll her eyes. “Stop being so fucking dramatic, Jamila Brown.”

“I was an actress, I’m supposed to be dramatic. Tell Mayo boy if he ever breaks your heart, I’ll kill and cremate whatever’s left of him after your father and brother are finished with him.”

“Are you really gonna nickname him that?”

Jamila smirked at Nina and Nina sighed. Shrugging elegantly, Jamila replied, “I’m a part of Philly sports Twitter. I got lots of other names I could call him.

“Be a bigger bitch, Mila.”

“He gets a better nickname when he lets you fully run his pockets. And don’t give me that look, don’t be afraid of being called a gold digger. They are probably calling you worse names. Make Mayo boy run that card up when he takes you on baecation. Once that happens, I’ll upgrade his nickname.”

Nina sighed as she looked at the menu. Jamila reached out and put her hand out, covering Nina’s menu. “You know I’m just playing, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it now, let’s talk about Toyin’s wedding instead,” Nina murmured.

It was Jamila’s turn to sigh. “I’m sorry, Nina. I’m sorry for being a bitch. I shouldn’t be taking out my bad mood on you. I hate men.”

“Not forgiven yet,” Nina snarked.

Jamila looked pensive as she said, “I like this guy but I don’t want to admit I like him. He’s like too perfect, too nice, well not that nice. He actually gives a fuck.”

“Let me guess, you’re scared and about to do something super stupid,” Nina dryly replied.

Jamila gave Nina a shocked look before she slumped in her chair. “I don’t want to,” she pouted.

Nina reasoned, “Then don’t. Just ride it out for once.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jamila replied.

Nina shrugged as her phone buzzed. It was a message from Sid, well really just a picture of him sweaty post-practice. Nina left him on read, she would get him back later for that. “Stop being stupid, and stop self-sabotaging.”

Jamila rolled her eyes as she ate her food. After swallowing, she arched an eyebrow. “Mayo boy sent you a message?”

“Yeah, but I’m focusing on you. I’ll see him next week… and his parents.”

“This is going fast,” Jamila commented.

Nina bit her lip before saying, “I guess he had to wait eighty-four years, I mean five years, so he’s going to take advantage while they are in town.”

“Interesting.”

Nina pointed out, “At least I’m giving my relationships a chance, unlike you.”

“Fuck you.”

Jamila gave Nina an exaggerated nasty look as Nina quipped, “I’m strictly dickly, bitch.”

The conversation switched to safer topics. However, throughout the wedding weekend, Nina had the thought in the back of her mind that maybe things were going a bit too fast.

“Well, Taylor says she likes her. I checked out her instagram account and she doesn’t even mention you. Lots of nice vacation pictures though.”

Sidney looked at his mom from across the table. Trina had a pensive look on her face. Troy raised his eyebrows before leaning back in his chair.

Sidney reasoned, “I want you two to meet her. Give her a chance. Nina is amazing, I’m lucky that she even likes me.”

“Why wouldn’t she like you, you’re Sidney Crosby,” Trina scoffed.

Sidney shrugged. “Nina’s a PhD student and everything. It hasn’t been easy for her either.”

“Interesting,” Trina said.

Nina herself was feeling extra nervous. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to meet Sidney’s parents, especially after having to turn in a huge paper and part of her thesis to her advisor. But, as she shook her head and smoothed down her shirt, they were in town and she was going to try to make her best impression.

Midway through dinner, Nina began to wish she was somewhere else on this Friday night. While Troy, Sidney’s dad, seemed nice, it felt like Trina was judging every single thing she did. Every reply Trina made to Nina’s questions was in a dry voice, as if it was boring her. Nina felt a bit discouraged. Sidney obviously loved his parents but it felt like his mother didn’t like her.

On the other hand, Trina felt like Nina was looking down on them. It seemed like she was mentioning her PhD program, her thesis, like she was too smart for them and her boy. Trina sipped her water as there was a pause. She didn’t know about this girl but at least, every time she looked at Sidney, Trina could see the stars and hearts in her eyes.

Nina looked at Sidney, her palms sweating. She didn’t know what to say as she looked down at her plate. Her appetite was gone. Sidney, himself, didn’t really notice anything as he answered his father’s questions about the beginning of the season. Then Troy turned to Nina.

“So what do you plan to do now that you’re with Sidney,” Troy casually asked.

Nina replied, “I have about two more years left before I finish earning my PhD. I plan to continue to work and I may teach a class or two.”

“You still plan to work,” Trina asked.

Nina nodded. “Yes. I love what I do and I’m not wasting my degrees.”

“Why do you want to work?”

Nina could tell that Trina intended that question to be light but Nina could still feel the claws. She was tired of this passive-aggressive bullshit and ready to curse her out. But Nina couldn’t so she measured her words carefully. “I did four years of undergrad, three years of school for my doctors in physical therapy, and I will do four more years for my doctorate. Why would I stop working after earning my degrees?”

Trina paused; she had expected some trite, suck-up answer. But it seemed like Nina was serious. “I would think that if you were with my son, you’d rather not work.”

“I’m not built to be a housewife.” Nina laughed. “I love what I do and if I’m expected to stop for Sidney, then maybe I need to reevaluate some things.”

Trina felt like she lost control of this conversation. All she wanted was to see what kind of user her boy’s dream girl was. Now, she had the feeling that her son was going to get dumped and it was going to be her fault.

Sidney laughed. “I don’t expect you to be a housewife. You would be so bored if you were.”

Nina flashed Sidney a quick grin before adding, “Nathalie has let me know the responsibilities though. I’ve done lots of volunteer and charity work over the years so that isn’t new at all. I’m excited about the toy drive, I remember when my parents just got out of the army and cash was tight. I got my favorite doll as a kid from a toy drive.”

“That’s nice,” Trina said. Maybe this Nina girl wasn’t completely stuck up, she thought as the night continued. After a couple of hours, Nina said her goodbyes. It was getting late and she was spending the morning taking her little sister to volleyball practice. After she left, Trina let out a sigh as Sidney turned to her.

“You have to lay off on Nina, Mom.”

Trina turned to look at her son. Sidney was giving her his most serious look and she sighed.

“I like her but I don’t know if she’s the one for you, Sid. It seems like she’s one step from leaving you,” Trina said. “I don’t see her sticking with you if things go bad.”

“Just because she plans to work?”

Sidney gave his mother an assessing look. He knew she meant well but this wasn’t for her to decide. “This isn’t your problem.”

“Fine, I like that she has her own life. She’s not obsessed with you and she plans to be her own person,” Trina conceded. “But she’s different.”

He knew this was going to be hard, asking his mom to back off but Sidney knew he had to do it. Nina hadn’t said anything last night but Sidney could sense that she was tired of how his mother was acting. Sidney also knew that if Nina decided to cut ties, it would be completely over. Sidney started, “Compared to Nina, I’m a dumb hockey player. But what I have with her, I’ve never found with anyone else. If you have a problem with that, that’s you. But be civil to Nina.”

“Really, Sidney Patrick Crosby,” Trina said, incredulous. But the look on her son’s face was something she had never seen before. Even though she didn’t believe her son would really pick any woman over her, a voice at the back of her mind told her that if Sidney ever did, this would be the woman he’d pick over her.

It was Saturday night and Nina pasted another smile on her face. If Trina got snide again, Nina didn’t know if she could be nice about it. But at least they were in public. As they sat down for dinner, a couple of guys came up. Sidney and his family had perfect PR smiles but the guys stopped in front of Nina.

“Hey, aren’t you Jason Jackson’s sister?”

Nina grinned. “Yes.”

“Why did he have to have such a great game against Pitt today? He killed them,” one of the guys said.

Nina shrugged. “Pitt should play better defense.”

After the guys left, Troy asked, “your brother plays college football?”

“Yup. He was the top prospect in Pennsylvania last season. Games on tv and everything.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sidney murmured.

Nina giggled as she replied, “All you do is eat, sleep, and breathe hockey.”

Sidney blushed as everyone laughed at that statement. However, through the night, more people came by the table to give Nina props for her brother’s monster game than to try to get a glimpse of Sidney. Jason had 184 yards receiving and 2 TDs for UNC today and there was already buzz about Jason being on the fast track to the NFL. During a lull, Trina stated, “You must get asked about your brother a lot.”

“I’m used to it. Once ESPN comes to your brother’s games when he was a sophomore in high school, you have to get used to it,” Nina said with a shrug. “I’m old enough that it really doesn’t bother me.”

“How does your brother deal with it,” Sidney asked, curious as he remembered some of his early experiences with fame.

Nina replied, “College football is a different beast than the pros. So, he’s on scholarship and his days are pretty much regimented with meetings, practice, classes, more meetings, video study. I ran track when I was in undergrad so my experience was slightly similar. Main difference is that Jase gets paid for his likeness in video games now and a percentage of any jersey sales with his name and number.”

“You ran track,” Troy asked. Unlike his wife, he felt a bit more open towards Nina. It was obvious that she didn’t need Sidney for anything and Troy could see that his son was able to relax in a way with Nina that he hadn’t been able to relax with a woman before.

“I had a partial scholarship. I ran the 4x100 relay and the 100 meters. I didn’t have the athletic ability to race for a living but I did decent,” Nina stated, feeling a bit shy. It had been a long time since she even talked about her track career. “I was state champ my senior year and my team won silver at the Penn Relays my sophomore and junior years of college. Now, I just run to stay in shape.”

“Wow,” Sidney said, impressed. “Sounds like you loved it though.”

Nina flashed Sidney a grin. “I did, I love running. What most people forget is that you can’t just run for health, you have to run and do strength training and yoga or Pilates.”

“Have you been to any of your brother’s games,” Troy asked. “Seems like they are doing well.”

Nina replied, “We went to the season opener. I will never go to North Carolina in August ever again if I can help it. I’m going to their game next weekend at Virginia Tech. We’ll probably go to the bowl game since my little sister will be off school that week.”

“Seems like you stay busy,” Trina mused.

Nina couldn’t help a little glare as she managed to say without malice, “I plan my calendar in advance.”

Trina said, “That sounds good. You have a life outside of everything.”

“And I will continue to have a life outside of everything,” Nina said with a syrup-sweet smile.

Nina quietly washed her hands, glancing up to the mirror. Trina was looking down on her hands as she washed hers. Tentatively, Nina asked, “Are you having a good time on this trip?”

“I enjoyed the Moms’ trip,” Trina replied.

Nina looked down at her hands as she dried them. This was so awkward and she wanted to cry.

“Sidney Crosby is here, and so are his parents,” somebody exclaimed just outside the ladies bathroom. Trina and Nina both shared a look until another person said, “And his n-word girlfriend is here with them too.”

Nina opened her mouth but Trina put up a finger. The second person continued, “His mom doesn't look too happy with that black girl. Maybe you could get a chance, finally.”

The door opener and the two women came in, laughing. The laughter stopped when those women saw Nina and Trina.

“You don’t have to worry about getting a chance with my son because there’s no way I’d let him be with someone like you when he’s with a lady like Nina,” Trina stated.

The two women shared a look but Trina stared them down until they left. Nina let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “No wonder my son is always saying that it hasn’t been easy for you,” Trina offered. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they get kicked out.”

Nina sniffled as she said, “That’s the first time I’ve heard it in person. It’s usually nasty messages online. I really, really hate it. But I guess I’m going to be stuck with this for the rest of my life.”

Impulsively, Trina reached out and grabbed Nina’s hand. “From the way that my son looks at you, nasty women like those will just have to be angry forever.”

Nina giggled as they shared a look. It felt like there was a truce and she was going to take it. After Trina talked to the manager and got those women booted, Nina definitely felt like there was definitely a truce.

“Don’t take anything seriously. If they don’t like you, they’ll say absolutely nothing to you. If they make jokes, they like you.”

Two weeks after meeting Sid’s family, it was his turn to meet Nina’s family. The team was home for American Thanksgiving and they didn’t have a game until Friday evening this year. So Sidney was going with Nina to meet her extended family. He was feeling extra nervous and desperate to make a good impression.

Sidney grimaced as Nina giggled. “Plus, it’s Aryanna’s birthday so they won’t be too mean. I think.”

“Anything else I need to worry about,” Sidney asked.

Nina reached out over the console and touched Sidney’s hand. “Relax, it’s not a game. You can’t lose.”

“But, I want them-”

Cutting Sidney off, Nina said, “I know, you want them to like you. So be the dork that you are instead of faking like you aren’t a dork.”

Sidney felt a bit insulted but Nina gave him a dazzling smile. “I like it when you’re being dorky, anyway.”

Sidney tried hard to follow Nina’s advice. There were so many people that he couldn’t keep them all straight so he focused on making sure he remembered the names of the older people in Nina’s family. There was Mawmaw, the family matriarch, Tracey and Vernon, Nina’s parents, Aunt Tasha who baked the sweet potato pie that he was having his third slice of, Aunt Dee, Uncle Tony, and Uncle Bashir. All of the cousins kinda blurred together but Sidney figured he’d learn their names quickly.

Overall, he felt like everything was going well. Sidney answered everyone’s questions and he guessed his answers were good since one of Nina’s older cousins told him his new nickname was White Boy. Nina had snickered while some of the younger ones giggled. Right now, Sidney was talking to Aunt Tasha. “What would it take to get you to bake me a pie of my own,” Sidney asked.

Tasha laughed while Tracey smirked. Tracey interjected, “Oh no, Tasha gonna be bragging about this forever. ‘Guess who came to Thanksgiving and loved my sweet potato pie? Sidney Crosby loved my sweet potato pie.’ She will never shut up!”

“Don’t be mad that you can’t bake a pie as good as me, Tracey,” Tasha chided, laughing. “Nina makes a better pie than both of us but that girl don’t wanna cook.”

Tracey smirked when she saw the look on Sidney’s face. “Oh no, Tash, now this boy gonna be begging my daughter to make him a pie.”

Everyone laughed as Nina was in a different room. Mawmaw chided, “I’m happy that one of my family don’t got to be in the kitchen like that. I wish I could’ve been the same at her age.”

Sidney decided to scroll his phone as the older women began to argue. Then he felt someone tap his shoulder.

“White boy, you wanna play spades?”

Sidney looked at this cousin of Nina. He was sitting at a table with Vernon, one of her aunts, and another cousin. “No,” he replied, shaking his head.

The cousin got a devious grin on his face. “It’s easy, you should play for Shantara, she can’t play for shit.”

Sidney’s competitive instinct told him it was a bad idea. And from the way Vernon was eyeing him, Sidney knew he was right for shaking his head. “Nope. I’ll learn by watching.”

“Nina’s white boy smart,” Aunt Tasha hollered. “You play spades and renege, boy, someone about to go for those knees.”

“Stop torturing, Sid, Deonte,” Nina scolded as she sat in Sidney’s lap. “At least wait til the second visit before hazing him over spades.”

“I like this boy, Nini. Keep him, he’s betta than that last boy you brought here, bless his heart. Didn’t know how to talk to people,” Mawmaw advised.

Nina wanted to die as the rest of her family snickered. Holidays: the time of the year where your greatest fuckups get rehashed for shits and giggles.

Nafis snorted. “What’s his name... it wasn’t that Ron boy, was it? Naw, it was James’s old friend, Jordan. We all knew he wasn’t shit, I mean, nothing, when he made Tommy mad.”

Nina winced as remembered that. Tommy was one of the sweetest guys and hard to rile up, but anyone who could make cousin Tommy mad was a douchebag.

“Her pets like him. Tess curls in his lap and Steely lets him pet him,” Vernon said.

Everyone stared at Sidney, eyes wide. Stuttering, Aunt Tasha said, “T-t-that cat and d-dog hate every damn body other than Nini and her family. I be damned.”

Mawmaw laughed.

The rest of the dinner went without incident. But at a quiet moment, Vernon pulled Sidney from the group to a quiet spot in the yard. It was late November in Western Pennsylvania so no one else was there.

Vernon Jackson had seen more of his fair share of crap in his life. Growing up in Ward 8 of D.C., Vernon had dodged dealers, hustlers, stick-up kids, etc. to survive. His grades weren’t great so Vernon went into the army to ensure that he escaped. Through being deployed in the Gulf War then to Mogadishu, Vernon had done his best to make sure that all his children had more than he did growing up.

Now, his sweettart, his eldest, his sweet girl, Nina was grown. She had done more than he and Tracey combined. But looking at the man he was sure his daughter was in love with, Vernon began to wonder if he made a mistake.

Oh, it was obvious that Sidney Crosby was in love with his daughter. But the feelings of love could fade and given his history, Vernon couldn’t trust that Crosby would do the right thing.

So as a loving father, Vernon pulled Sidney to the side. “I just wanted to ask you something important before I give my blessing to this.”

“Yes, sir,” Sidney responded.

“You know your children will be considered Black?”

Vernon watched Sidney’s face after asking that question. Lust and infatuation was nice but this was his little girl. The last thing he wanted was his daughter hurt because she fell for someone not just clueless but maliciously clueless about race.

Sidney quietly replied, “I know. People will see them as Black and will think the worst of them first.”

Not bad, Vernon thought. He expected a colorblind response.

Then he heard Nina call out, “Dad? Sid? We are about to cut the cake!”

Vernon and Sid both grimaced but for different reasons. Vernon because he couldn’t really have cake because of his diabetes, Sid because cake wasn’t on his meal plan. Vernon told Sidney, “before you start making plans for rings, you need to start thinking about how you are going to start speaking up about race. Think about that.”

Sidney kept Vernon’s words in his mind through the week. Trina had told him what happened in the bathroom that night but Nina told him that his mom had handled it for her. But as he waited for Nina to open her door, Sidney couldn’t help but think what he could do to avoid situations like that from happening for Nina. But words failed as Nina opened the door and gave him a shy smile.

“Hi pretty girl,” Sidney drawled as he walked in, closing the door. He hung up his coat on her coat rack before sitting on Nina’s couch.

“I missed you daddy”

“Missed you, pretty girl. Did you have fun?”

Nina straddled Sid’s thigh and replied, “it was a good time even though UNC lost. The VT campus is beautiful. How was the road trip?”

Sid laughed as Nina played with his hair. “It went well but Geno got hurt. He’ll be out for two weeks.”

“That sucks.”

Sidney hummed his assent as he wrapped an arm around Nina’s waist. He missed his pretty girl and it seemed like she missed him too. They sat there together for several quiet moments before Nina whispered, “I really missed you, daddy. It’s been too long.”

Sidney gave Nina a slow smile as she began to grind on his thigh. He felt the same way as he kissed Nina, soft and slow. Then as they broke apart, the sensual haze on Nina’s face turned into horror. “God damn it,” she muttered.

Sidney frantically asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just felt my period show up, three days early,” Nina said, rubbing her temples. Her period was cock-blocking her after a couple weeks of no dick and she wanted to die. “I just felt cramps and as much as I’d like to slide to my knees and suck you off, it won’t happen tonight.”

Nina groaned as she closed her eyes, head down. Sidney just started to laugh.

“Cmon, pretty girl. Let’s just watch movies tonight.”

“Movies sound good,” Nina replied, “I just refuse to watch Friends, ever.”

Sidney giggle-honked as Nina moved from straddling his thigh to curling into his lap.

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twh-news · 4 years ago

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Tom Hiddleston, Owen Wilson, Kevin Feige & creative team talk Loki | The TVA, D.B. Cooper & the god of mischief

Loki is one of Marvel’s most complicated characters. He’s a hero, a villain, a frenemy, and everything in between, and starting Wednesday, June 9 on Disney+ his series kicks off with a brooding adventure that spans the timeline.

Avengers: End Game setup a chain of events that is likely going to be a big part of the next phase of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. In that film, Loki, played by the one and only Tom Hiddleston, picked up the Tesseract and vanished to parts unknown. Now, in Marvel’s Loki, we finally get to see what happened to him, and why the Time Variance Authority (TVA) are after him.

Just a hint though, it’s not good, and it’s going to lead to trouble.

As far as the TVA is concerned, it’s a massive organization, and no one there seems to be a fan of the god of mischief’s work. That includes Agent Mobius (Owen Wilson), Judge Ravonna Renslayer (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), and Hunter B-15 (Wunmi Mosaku), to name a few.

To launch the new series, the key cast, executive producer Kevin Feige, creator and lead writer Michael Waldron, and director Kate Herron sat down to chat about the who, what, when, where, and why of Loki. Read on for the story of how the team came together, and what to expect from the Marvel series.

So what was it like for Hiddleston when he realized he was going to get to play Loki again? As he admits, it was unexpected.

“[It was ] a combination of delight and surprise. I think it’s probably the accurate way of describing it,” Hiddleston said. “I was so excited by the idea and I also had to scratch my head a bit because that scene in Avengers: Infinity War had felt so conclusive as the end of Loki’s story.”

“But I knew that Avengers: End Game was coming around the corner. And in that scene, in that film, Loki picks up the Tesseract and disappears in a puff of smoke. And where does he go? When does he go? How does he get there? Kevin [Feige] and Louis d’Esposito and Victoria Alonso all reassured me that that would be the starting point of the series. And there were so many places we could go, so many possibilities to think about.”

“And in due course, everybody that you can see [points to the other cast and creators] jumped on and had so many brilliant ideas and created thi new show, which I think is really exciting and I’m happy to be doing it.”

For Kevin Feige, he suggested that they had the plan started for Loki while they were filming the last Avengers movie.

“I think we did not know it when we shot Infinity War, but I think we did know it when we shot End Game,” Feige said. “[That’s] my recollection of it.”

“What that meant and where that specifically would go, we didn’t know, but one of my favourite things coming out of End Game was people saying that we forgot to tie up the loose end of Loki. Loki just disappears. And we forgot to mention what happens to them at the end of that movie. And at that point, we did know that there was Disney+ coming in, and it became very exciting to make people wait until, we figured out what the show would be, and now, finally, two days from it being unveiled to the world is pretty cool.”

After the idea, came head writer Michael Waldron, and his plan for the story.

“I was just thinking Loki is D.B. Cooper. That’s all I was [thinking],” Waldron said. “I was so excited about that opportunity.”

“When I heard that it was going to be a series about Loki. It was already, you know, my favourite character in the MCU and it was going to have a time travel element. Just the opportunities for chaos and fun within that. Obviously it seemed like it would be a great time as writers, so I just went after it and started eliminating my enemies one by one, so I could try to get the job.”

Coming in to direct the series, Kate Herron said that she had a plan to get the job.

“I remember that I found out they were making the show and I told my agent to just call them every day until they caved and it worked,” Herron said. “I just was like, ‘just get me in the room, just get me in the room.'”

“So, yeah, consistency, I guess, and being a pain in the butt, got me the job.”

But there’s a lot more to it than that, as Feige, Hiddleston, and Waldron said. Herron helped shape the whole series.

“We knew we wanted to do a Tom Hiddleston Loki series,” Feige said. “We knew we wanted to have time travel elements. Our producer, Stephen Broussard, Kevin Wright, and I were always fans of this Time Variants Authority organization from the comics.”

“For years and years, we’ve loved the idea of it, but just didn’t know exactly what to do with it before Kevin and Stephen had the idea of putting it up as a major part of this show, but it’s really Kate’s meetings with us and her pitch that brought in all those references and allowed us to look at this in a slightly even different genre than we were anticipating.”

“So that’s my answer. Our inspiration was Kate and her and her pitch for this job.”

And then there’s MCU newcomers Owen Wilson, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, and Wunmi Mosaku. How did they feel about joining the universe of characters?

“Well, it’s exciting to be a part of it. You know, with seeing the trailers start to come out, and how excited people get,” Wilson said.

“I’ve kind of talked about how I worked on a lot of things, but the secrecy sort of surrounding this, I didn’t quite understand until I saw that it’s just so much, and the fan base is so revved up and passionate and Marvel’s just so committed to trying to surprise people. So then you kind of get into it.”

After that, he said he was definitely “walking on eggshells… because you’re not quite sure now if this happened in episode three or four, or one, or have they already seen it? And so I just tend to sort of fall back on ‘There’s some very shocking things that are going to happen.'”

For Judge Ravonna Renslaye, Mbatha-Raw has a lot of story in the comic books, but that didn’t necessary play a part in Loki.

“Well luckily or unluckily for me, Kate explained to me that this was sort of more of an origin story for Ravonna Renslayer, you know, sort of predating some of the stuff in the comics,” Mbatha-Raw said.

“So all that stuff is there, but there was also the opportunity to feel like we were starting with something fresh with the TVA that hadn’t been seen before by fans on screen. But there’s so much there that I feel like there’s plenty of potential for her in the future as well.”

On the other hand, Wunmi Mosaku plays a brand new character, made just for the series. So how did that impact her role?

“Yeah, no pressure because no one’s got any ideas of what they want her to be,” Mosaku said. “I can bring you who she is and you have to accept it, and that’s just as it is. And I kinda liked that because it does feel like a bit of pressure when you’re joining the MCU. It’s like, it’s the MCU and yeah, being able to just have like a clear slate and just do whatever I want to do with Kate and you know, it’s just, it’s great. It’s fun. It’s kind of free.”

Finally, what can you expect from Loki?

“Well, stylistically, I would say like me and my DP, Autumn [Durald], we were really inspired by a lot of film noir… and you can see that in our lighting and how we approached it. Seven is a very heavy influence. There’s a little reference to Seven in episode two, of a little needle drop, which I’m sure fans of that film will recognize instantly.”

For Waldron, he said “I think Fincher for sure… Zodiac and The Silence of the Lambs were two specific [influences] we were really looking at a lot in the writers’ room.”

There is a lot more to cover from the Loki press conference, so stay tuned for more with the cast and creative team throughout the week.

#loki #loki series #press conference #article #interview #tom hiddleston #owen wilson #kate herron #michael waldron #wunmi mosaku #gugu mbatha raw #kevin feige

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merryfortune · 3 years ago

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Fashionably Clumsy

Clover and Violets 2022

Day 6. Fashion

Title: Fashionably Clumsy

Ship: Reportershipping | Akari/Carly

Word Count: 1,382

Rating: T

Universe: Alternate - 5D’s/ZeXal Fusion

Tags: Fluff, Meet Cute

The glitz and glamour of the fashion world never got any less intimidating for Carly, even though she had been to plenty of soirees and the like invited by Misty or other galas for excellent Riding Duellists, such as those of Team 5D’s. Even so, Carly felt her knees knocking underneath her slinky blue dress as she idly waited for her turn one step at time to even get into the show.

Today’s assignment was simple. Take photos. That was her passion and she was currently in the heart of a lot of passion since there was nothing quite so passionate as fancy clothes and the people who made them and the people who wore them. Carly could feel the electricity in the air as she watched models and designers all clip ahead of her in the line as they, too, were on their way to work. It just made her all the more excited to get inside so she could do hers too.

Carly had spent probably an hour in line and when security finally let her flash her press card at them, she was grinning ear to ear as the doors were opened up just for her. The taste of fame and fortune had her exhilarated as what was on the other side of those black rimmed glass doors was nothing less than a verifiable wonderland.

It was just a decadent feast for the eyes. Ribbons, sashes, bright lights that pulsated moodily. Carly wandered through it all, lost and amazed, her heart pounding as she saw people take their seats near the white, luminescent catwalk and saw glimpses of gaudy costumes. Music played overhead that was fanciful and swanky, competing with the hushed rumble of small talk and connection making.

She saw Blue Eyed White Dragons inspired headpieces on beautiful models and Dark Magician Girls in posters on the walls, overlapping on art band performances from ages ago. She caught snatches of conversations about how complicated chain effects worked as she wandered around, not so subtly vying for the h’orderves. Her camera was feeling very hot in her little hands as she excitedly tried to find a good vantage point to take photographs for her newspaper.

Suddenly, that hour Carly had spent on her feet prior and all the angst she had about not picking the right dress evaporated. Sure, a high and mighty fashion show was a bit out of her league but seeing the underlying theme of Duel Monsters brought Carly great comfort. That was exactly her league. She couldn’t wait for the show to get started, she was utterly starstruck behind those thick, trifocal glasses that she wore.

She wasn’t looking where she was going because there was just too much to see. She had to take a wide shot of this cavalcade of costumes and creativity. Her heart was pounding, she took a step back and held up her camera but before she could press click, she felt herself bump against something. Someone.

Her blood ran cold as Carly realised she had committed the ultimate faux pas in a place like this, filled with people who could snap their fingers and dozens of people would come pouring out to cry and rage with them and have her not only kicked out. But kicked out of the entire industry. This was exactly the sort of thing which not only ruined reputations but killed them. Her mind raced with all sorts of Devils in Prada who could behind her as she stiffly turned around, her mouth yammering already, spieling off countless apologies but who she saw was nothing like that.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that.” she said and gave Carly a flippant hand gesture.

She was very pretty. Carly did notice that straight away but she wasn’t pretty in the way black-lipstick wearing butterflies were pretty. She was sporty-pretty, preppy, maybe? She had red hair in a ponytail and was wearing scuffed up jeans and a puffer vest to an extraordinary A-Lister event like this.

Her eyes lit up as they fell upon Carly’s hands, into her camera: “Are you with the press too?” she asked. “No way, me too.” She smiled a toothy, cheeky smile and Carly felt all her jitters evaporate.

“I’m from Neo Domino, just a small print office there but yay, even we can hit the big leagues every couple miracles or so,” Carly said, she forced some very fake laughter, but was otherwise basically on autopilot as she made big hand gestures out of nervousness, “it's good to meet you, my name’s Carly Nagisa, I play a Fortune Lady deck.” Carly stuck out her hand stiffly.

“Wicked, I’m Tsukumo Akari, I’m part of an online publication in Heartland. I play a Guts Master deck. It's good to meet you as well.” she replied as she accepted Carly’s handshake, her hands were strong and firm. They didn’t seem like the hands of a woman who was merely a keyboard clicker.

“Wow, interesting.” Carly gasped. She had never been to Heartland but she had certainly heard good things about it, especially its Heartland Tower.

“Say, Carly, d’you want to hang out with me today?” Akari asked. “Not to be forward, but why don’t we collaborate and such.”

Carly felt her heart flutter. She beamed, “I would love that.” she replied.

Thus, the two mingled a bit longer and were becoming fast friends since they had much in common. Together, they lingered around for crumbs to report on, taking photographs of the pre-show and ambience of the fashion show as it was currently. About half an hour later, the announcement that the main event would begin soon, so they sat together in the press section of the catwalk’s pit.

They sat close to the edge, at about the middle of the long, white catwalk. They listened intently to the host who gave speeches and said thanks before the show began; they scribbled down quotes that would make great headlines and the like in their respective notebooks. Carly had good old reliable pen and paper whereas Akari had a tablet that her fingers were flying over. And Carly was only a little bit jealous of how good and straightforward Akari’s notes were typed out but Akari admired Carly’s old school spirit in contrast.

The costumes that came out not long after the last of the speeches were nothing less than magnificent. Models wore extravagant, flaming make-up and gorgeous hairstyles, wearing outfits inspired by Red Eyes Black Dragon and Cyber End Dragon, as well as other monsters. They were elegant and avant garde and enrapturing. Both Akari and Carly couldn’t snavel up enough shots of how the models strode down, embodying the very beast they were dressed up as, confidence oozing off them. It was brilliant.

Even after two hours of the fashion parade from various designers, big and small, old and new, and of every iteration in between, Carly still wanted more even though she had enough to write a novel, let alone a short and sweet article. Akari was much the same. It was a good thing there was an after party that even the press could likely wheedle into.

“D’you want to come with me for the night?” Akari asked, with a smug wink.

Carly felt as though she were struck by lightning with just a simple gesture.

“We can go grab a bite to eat, have something to drink, pre-game if that’s what you're into, and come back here if that sounds like your kinda thing?” Akari coaxed her further. “Or, we can do something else, whatever you like, hole up in a motel room, watch some movies and binge on room service.”

“I’d like either. I’m easy. So long as I can get to know you better.” Carly said, fidgeting with the straps of her camera.

“Then let’s kick it at mine.” Akari decided.

“Sounds great.” Carly beamed.

Somehow, Carly didn’t mind the fact that she likely wouldn’t get to claim whatever she and Akari ordered for dinner as tax benefits because this, she suspected, was going to be strictly pleasure despite being part of her business trip. The same could probably be said of Akari who took her hand and whisked her away, on a motorcycle fittingly enough, to her motel room.

#femslash #femslash february #femslash february 2022 #yugioh 5ds #yugioh zexal #zexal #5ds #reportershipping #tsukumo akari #carly nagisa #writing tag #clover and violets 2022 #clover and violets #my authorial intent is that #akari wines dines and sixty nines carly god bless

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wishingstarinajar · 4 years ago

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I am going to ramble a bit but I will hide it under a cut because it's a bit long. It will be about the previous fandom I was active in around two years ago and how it affects me to this day. It's also about popularity and putting others on a pedestal.

If this sort of ramble isn't up your alley then feel very free to skip over this post! I don't mind. If you want to read more about it, just check under the cut.

The Franchise And Its Creators

====

THE FRANCHISE AND ITS CREATORS Around mid-2014, I joined the Wakfu and Dofus fandoms, a small-ish fandom as a whole but popular in certain circles.

For those who don't know, Wakfu and Dofus are (online, console, mobile, figurine, card and board) games, comics, animated series, specials and movies created by a French studio named Ankama. These two franchises are intertwined with each other as they play out in the same universe but in different timelines. I myself dabbled around in the animated part of the fandom; I was a huge fan of the two series and the Dofus movie.

There was very little catering to the international part of the fandom when it came to the studio's attention and interactions. There were no English dubs or subtitles; international fans had to rely on English fan subtitles on ripped/pirated episodes of the show and movie, same for the franga/comics. Merch was hard to get. A lot of articles related to the shows and whatnot were in French only, which is understandable because it is a French-made product. But there's no denying that the international fanbase felt a little neglected back then.

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MY FANDOM JOURNEY

Because I was very interested in the lore of both franchises, I had to do a lot of digging and translating to be able to fully indulge in it all. I went full in! I dug deep, created OCs, art and also tried to write fanfiction. I also shared news and info about the series and movie; I ran a fan blog dedicated to sharing things with the international part of the fandom. I was also often approached about lore, particularly for a few of the canon characters and one of the races that play a role in the Wakfu franchise; the Eliatropes. It was fun, it felt good to help other fans out, it was nice to make friends and be creative with others about similar things.

Eventually, the character and art theft began. We all know this is a 'normal' part of fandoms, so I won't hammer too long on it. My issue with it was the fact that my main OC, a female Eliatrope, gathered a lot of attention because female Eliatropes were a rarity in the Wakfu franchise. They existed but didn't get a moment in the limelight, except for one that even received her own game (Islands of Wakfu) but it was so obscure that a lot of fans didn't know about its existence. My OC was somehow mistaken as canon by plenty of folks and many others started to use her as a template to create their own (female) Eliatrope OC. I didn't mind, as long as they weren't straight-up copies and I tried to be supportive by answering lore questions and give feedback whenever it was asked for it (which happened a lot). Of course, copying and theft happened more often than not; over the five years I was part of the fandom, I sent out almost a hundred DMCA reports for art and character theft (like true theft; I could handle some similarities or one-time occurrences). One particular case went to the extreme but I won't beat that dead horse any further; it brought me enough misery to last me half a lifetime, that's all I'll say on it. I kept a lot of the negative experiences behind closed doors and dealt with a lot of it quietly to not bother, worry or burden anyone else with any of it. I wanted a positive and supporting environment for my followers, even if the truth wasn't as pretty.

====

ANKAMA'S STRUGGLE

Over the years, studio Ankama increased attempts to cater more to the international fanbase of its animated properties (articles in English, English dubs and subtitles, etc). However, the studio's struggle to garner the attention of international supporters (aka companies and sponsors) didn't go too smoothly, and to make matters worse, they were also struggling with finding a platform in France to broadcast the Wakfu series on after wishing to take a different and more mature direction. Ankama wanted more freedom with the Wakfu show, like less censorship, a serial rather than episodic, and it not being aimed at a young audience like its previous contractor demanded Wakfu to be. Ankama even turned to crowdfunding to get certain projects (like new Wakfu seasons) off the ground and let's just say that those crowdfunding projects are best described as tiny dumpster fires; they weren't pretty to watch. The first one was a disaster with plenty of displeased backers and the following crowdfunding attempts often didn't meet the end goal due to bad past experiences or the lack of interest.

Luckily, Netflix breathed some life into the international Wakfu fandom, which was great! But it was still received badly (mostly due to the awful English dub and sound mixing of the first two seasons and special) that the third season Netflix made possible was not getting the attention it deserved. It was also a rushed product due to financial and time constraints on Ankama's part. Netflix eventually declined a fourth season and it all fell a bit apart from there. Ankama turned to crowdfunding once more to try and make season 4 a reality. Last time I checked (which was quite a while ago), it did decently enough to make season 4 a reality. (Please don't ask me about it, I don't know anything about it.)

====

THE PEDESTAL

While all this was happening behind the scenes, I was starting to struggle with the reputation I built up in the Wakfu and Dofus fandom over the few years I was a part of it. The best way to describe it is that I had grown exhausted.

Aside from dealing with the theft and answering people's questions daily, I wanted to be treated as an average fan but I kept getting put on a pedestal. People went as far as to call me by titles (like lady Wish and miss Wish) more often than not. To be called and treated as such made me feel alienated, like as if I wasn't considered real. I often asked to just be called Wish, no titles/formalities required, and that I wasn't as 'popular' as they believed, but the majority of the people didn't seem to listen. People were either afraid or refused to interact with me because they considered me 'too popular', or simply wanted nothing but my validation, feedback and/or free art. I also had my fair share of haters and people that didn't approve of my 'status' in the fandom. Join the club xD I wasn't very happy with it either.

I really started to dislike being called 'popular' because it had such a bad impact on the people around me (and my own mental wellbeing). Friends started to become jealous of the attention I garnered and it dragged me down every time. At times, it would turn toxic. It was never my intention to make my friends feel like they meant less because they surely didn't. To learn that they believed others were only friends with them or only looked at their art/writing because they were good friends with me hurt so much. It still does. I refuse to believe that was fully true because I was (and still am!) surrounded by very creative people and they all deserved as much attention as I was getting, at times more. I wish others saw it that way too.

I was also heavily chained down thanks to the role (model) I played in the fandom. Too many people (especially young ones) looked up to me and there were a lot of expectations that I felt forced to meet. I started to lose the energy for it, but if I dared to stray a little from the path, the pitchforks and torches would come out. It was very restricting.

In the end, I felt stuck. Things started to grow toxic. There was a point where I began to dislike the franchise because of the bad feelings it brought me. I couldn't even get myself to watch the series or movie anymore. I focused less and less on the canon side of things and more on my own ideas, which was one of the only comforts I really had left in the fandom. I started to shut myself off, which upset a lot of people. I am sorry for that, I wish it didn't happen that way but I was at my wits' end.

When I realized and also accepted that I was no longer enjoying myself with canon or fanon, I knew I had to move on or stuff would end badly. It was a very tough realization and decision to accept and make; I literally dedicated five years of my life to the fandom. I spent hours a day digging for info and news to translate and share, doing 'research' for my fanfics, answering questions, and whatnot. I truly lived the fandom day in and out. It was the first fandom I ever actively participated in to this degree. What the heck was I going to do without that?

====

THE NOW

Abandoning the fandom was a scary step to take but not one I regret. I left the Wakfu and Dofus fandom behind me in late 2019. I feel freer now and so much happier. I no longer have the burden of expectations, being a lore guide or be forced to portray a certain role model weighing me down. I am no longer on that f*cking pedestal. I can finally explore interests that aren't exactly child-friendly without a big part of my following pummeling me down for it. (Don't worry, I always try my best to keep it in the appropriate places.)

Do I still like Wakfu/Dofus and all the stuff I've created with it? Yes, I do but I also want nothing more to do with it. Aside from the friends I've made there and also stuck around on my new adventures, I left the fandom behind me.

I still get approached at times about how my Wakfu OC, art and writing inspired someone and ask me if I could give them feedback for their own ideas or give them advice/information on Wakfu/lore. I am extremely humbled by it every time. It's great to see someone feeling inspired and be creative. However, I've moved on. I've left interacting with the Wakfu/Dofus fandom and fan-made stuff far behind me. I haven't touched it for almost two years and it shows on all the social media I share my art and writing on. I at times wish people could be considerate about the fact that I moved on but I also know and understand that not everyone knows my reasoning or my side of the story. I try not to be too harsh on it.

====

MY ADVICE

I don't hate anyone for how things turned out; a lot of it was my own doing by not saying no or taking a stronger stand.

It did teach me a lot of things, especially about caring for my own well-being and putting others on pedestals. Please be mindful when you treat someone like others treated me before; it's not healthy, for yourself and the person you put on that high pedestal. Take everything in moderation and consideration, that's all. Everyone's human, everyone has feelings, and everyone deserves a sense of being. Even your favorite artists and content creators. Don't treat them like an otherwordly being that you have to worship.

In turn, if a fandom or something you enjoyed is making you unhappy nowadays, you owe it to yourself to make or find a change. Be good to yourself, always!

Thanks to anyone who read through this ramble. I needed to get this off my chest. I am not asking for advice, neither pity or whatever else. I just wanted to share my thoughts on past experiences because I have a feeling others might be going through something similar.

Thank you again, please take care.

#wish talks #wish rambles #edited with some format fixes

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junosswans · 2 years ago

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I watched Incantation on netflix a few nights ago and phew!! That was something!!

I do think it has a rather cliche plot that's heavily inspired by a few horror video games, but a lot of the paranormal activities featured are quite fresh to see and I enjoyed plenty of the ideas about how the curse manifests.

I also liked how direct the violence is, like when the curse made people hurt themselves it looked really painful lol.... Like, I admire the dedication and the acting. Yep.

I'm personally not a big fan of the kind of documentary format this film took, cause it can make the timeline very messy and the director had to be very skillful to show how the events were recorded in a realistic manner. But I have heard how a loooooooot of people loved that and there are also an impressive amount of people who for real thought they're cursed. Rip I guess xD

I think it's a rather refreshing film compared to the mainstream US horror movies, so though I don't think it's the most terrifying film out there, I would still recommend everyone to watch this Taiwan film with small budget but wonderful practical effects!! I think it would be rather enjoyable to Western viewers.

(spoiler below cut)

I really liked the part where the mother had to hold the hand of something she couldn't see and lead it out the room like damn that's indeed creepy. Also when the kindergarten lady tried to swallow the hot melted glass, like ah... That's terrible....

I also liked the flashing words and the visual games the film included, I think that's very creative as well, and its the first time I've seen films use this technique (games/visual novels yes, but not films). It does get quite dizzy though!! I imagine it would be extremely scary if I saw it in the cinema.

A ton of body horror in this film, I didn't like some of those (like rotting skin and the empty head) since 1 gross and 2 they're rather old at this point, those are like on the top of the 2010 "keywords you will regret googling" list xD but I did like some others, like the extra teeth and earcutting part. Not for the faint of heart!!

The film sort of has an idiot plot, but I think it's not the worst :P. The poor father, he totally got dragged into all of this shit when he just wanted to be a good (foster) parent. Very little sympathy for the mother tho /v\ and the "twist" in the end didn't really make sense when you think about it but it's not terrible either. Like you usually wouldn't want to argue logic with horror films so.

All in all I think it's a decent film and would be a good one for a bunch of friends to enjoy together, maybe yell at the screen tgt. I watched it on my own so it felt kind of dry at one point, and I imagine it would be more fun to have someone to watch it with.

#incantation #taiwan movies #asian movies #lia speaks

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ka-za-ri · 4 years ago

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Descent Pt. 1

I told myself I was gonna take a break. I lied. I wanted to write a whole bin of Sin for Simeon. I’m sorry, not sorry at all. Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list: Chapter Masterlist: Here Crossposted on Ao3: here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Paring: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 4,900 ish Genre: Smut Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, hints of dirty talk? Summary: Sent from the Celestial realm to observe and study humans; Simeon made a name for himself as the illustrious author of The Tales of the Seven Lords. After reaching acclaim for his first series, he's having trouble writing his next great hit. Good thing you're there for him as his manager and editor to help him work out the... kinks in writing.

Trip

The most dangerous aspect of humans was their innate ability to tempt even the most stalwart and steadfast of angels into a world of sin. Simeon was not immune to their ways, no matter how reclusive he became. It was easy to study them from afar, learning about them through numbers and sales numbers. The masses were easy to sway with a few pretty words. Blending in with humans was a trivial task for him. All he had to do was make a few public appearances for book signings and some launch parties for a new series; otherwise he was free to observe and study from afar.

After the international success of The Tale of The Seven Lords, Simeon found himself feeling rather empty. He needed a new project to keep him entertained in the human realm. However, no matter what he started to work on, it didn’t inspire the same sort of passion he had for his older series. He needed a new genre, a new style of writing to refresh his passion for words. If he was going to make it in an ever changing market, he would need to adapt as well. Yet, no matter what genre he tried, every draft he came up with seemed too mundane and overdone.

Everything except, for the temptation of writing something much more salacious than his last work.

Just entertaining the thought had him on a slippery slope of falling from the grace of the Celestial realm. Sure, the strict protocols of olde had been loosened over the centuries. Many angels realized that enforcing perfect adherence to the standards of purity set so long ago no longer applied to modern times. Rules had been loosened and enforcement had relaxed to the point where Simeon was almost positive if he wrote an absolutely obscene novel, he didn’t risk losing his Celestial powers.

The only problem was that he had no experience in the genre at all. He threw together a vague plot and outline, thinking it would be all he needed to inspire him. Surprisingly enough, the publishing house allowed for the drastic change in genre, confident that he would be able to create another best seller. Just having that much trust put in him made him want to succeed even more with the haphazard novel idea.

But, despite his determination to make his new manuscripts lewd, he was at a complete loss as to what, and how to write them properly. The outline he presented to you seemed excellent on paper. Even if it had a few plot holes, you knew he could patch them up with a little work. So, it was natural that you would push the approval and leave him to his own devices to work on the manuscript. You were sure that an author of his caliber would be able to break into a new branch of the literary market without any issues.

But, after several months of waiting, you had no contact at all from him regarding the progress of his new book. The industry needed proof of his work in order to justify their investment in him. Being so renowned, the pressure was on him to create something magnificent. You could only imagine the kind of stress he was going through and as his manager and editor, you were responsible for making sure he met deadlines. You hated to rush his process, but there was no way he could meet the dates set by the publisher if he didn’t give you something to work with soon.

After trying to reach out to him several times by phone and email with little to no response, the only option left was to go to his abode and see just what he was hiding from. No other outline he submitted had passed so this was his one and only chance to continue his writing career. You patiently waited after knocking on his door, hoping he would answer and wasn’t going to ignore you any further. You knew how serious writer’s block could be; but you hoped he wouldn’t let that get in the way of being a professional.

Luckily, the door opened soon enough and you were ushered in by an extremely tired and frazzled looking Simeon. He lead you to his office after you had taken off your shoes and changed into the guest slippers he offered. Simeon didn’t speak to you during the whole exchange, a shell of the soft spoken and attentive author you had come to know after so many years of working with him. He shuffled into his office, an obvious slouch in his posture and slumped behind his desk before gesturing at the empty chair across from him.

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” You said and he sighed in resignation, burrowing his head in his hands and running them through his hair. You felt terrible adding stress onto him, he looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they almost looked like deep bruises.

“Yes… You want a manuscript…” his normally soft voice sounded hoarse and you wondered if he had eaten or drunken anything at all that day. “I’m almost done with the first draft… would you like to come and see?” He turned his laptop towards you and you started reading what he had so far.

All seemed well and good at first. The characters were believable and the premise, though a bit cheesy, was definitely acceptable for the genre. The further you read, the more you noticed large gaps in his writing. Whole paragraphs seemed to be missing and sentences ended midway. Dialog was left unfinished and by the time you reached the end of the first chapter, it was a mess. You could already feel the inevitable headache you were going to get from editing for him.

“Uhm…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my best work.”

He tried to smile, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. You reached out to him and held his hand, rubbing your thumb in reassuring circles on his palm. “You’ve worked hard on it, still. What’s got you so hung up though?”

He got a little flustered at your question, nervously running his hand through his hair and looking to the side. Writing such a topic with no experience in it was proving to be difficult for him. He could research all he wanted and consume all the media he could to aid him, but there was just something missing. His lack of knowledge was showing and he wasn’t sure how he could keep being composed about his failure so far. He gestured at the screen and shrugged, trying to get his message across without using words; but, when he saw your confused expression, he had to speak. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he finally admitted. “I want to write this so badly, but I don’t know how to… describe the scenes the way I want to.”

You sat back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest and nodding. You could only imagine the difficulty he was having in producing the quality content you were sure he was used to coming up with. With deadlines looming above your head, you needed at least a chapter to submit to the publishing house so they knew actual work was being done. You sighed, trying to think of ways to jump start his creativity. The gloomy atmosphere of his office didn’t seem help. The lights were dim and the curtains were all drawn. It didn’t feel like a place that could invoke the imagery he was going for. “Let’s move somewhere.” you suggested finally. “Do you have a room with lots of sunlight? Maybe a change of mood will help.”

“Ah… there’s the sunroom..” he said. “But I don’t know if just changing where I am writing will help the situation. If it hasn’t gotten done here, I doubt it will anywhere else.”

“Just try it.” you encouraged, already unplugging his laptop and taking it with you. “It’s so gloomy in here, even I’m getting depressed just sitting around. Come on, which way is it?”

“Ah… this way.” He said, shamefully shuffling out from behind his desk and showing you the way to the sunroom which overlooked a rather well manicured garden with a variety of flowers in full bloom. You marveled at the bright, airy feel of the room and took a second to really appreciate his choice in decor.

“Wow, would have never pegged you as the kind of guy who gardens.” You teased, flopping onto the couch he had in there and lounged in its plush confines. Looking through the glass ceiling, you watched a few clouds drift by while Simeon got comfortable in a recliner in the corner of the room. You could tell he was still a bit frustrated, but you knew getting him some sun would do him good.

“Well, when I don’t have any pressing deadlines, being with the plants helps relieve stress. It’s unfortunate that I cannot give you a tour this time.”

“There’s plenty of opportunities in the future. They’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. You know I’m going to keep hounding you until your manuscript is finished.”

He chuckled, nodding and opening up his laptop. You let silence pass between the two of you, going back to watching the clouds while the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard lulled you into a daydream like state. You grabbed onto one of the large, decorative pillows he had on the couch, clutching it against your chest while you made up stories in your head about the clouds above. If you weren’t so stressed about turning something into the publishing house so soon; it would have been a perfect, calming afternoon.

The clack of the keyboard stopped after a little bit. Whatever inspiration Simeon had when he entered the room seemed to have fizzled out and he was stuck in yet another rut, writing one word and deleting it over and over again. You sighed, turning to watch him as he gnawed on his thumb, mumbling to himself.

“What’s not working?” You asked, your curiosity piqued.

“Just… this scene… it’s not working. I can’t envision it.” He grumbled. Looking up at where you were laying on his couch, clutching onto the pillow, he was suddenly struck by a brilliant plan. The worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he broke out into a slight smile when he realized how he could get his creative juices flowing. “Help me… I need inspiration.”

You sat up straight, ready to assist in any way you could. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” You asked.

Simeon squinted, in the right light, you looked similar to the main character he had written. His plan could work if you reenacted the scene he had in mind. The issue was actually explaining the scene to you in a way that didn’t make his body feel overheated. He was already playing with fire by writing such a lewd book, pushing his limits further felt like he was sliding right down a slope heading towards a great fall. There was no other way, he reasoned. As long as I do not defile her, it’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, he got up from where he was and walked over to you.

“I need you to…. Uhm… Well.. how do I say this… I’m having trouble writing a love making scene and I need some… visual aids.” You blinked, processing his request and then looked him up and down, feeling your whole body heat up at once. You were sure you had kept your crush on him a secret. To have him ask you so suddenly to provide visual aid for an explicit novel felt like too big of a jump for you to comprehend. “Oh… Oh no, no, no. You don’t have to do anything with me.” He said, gesturing wildly when he saw you pointedly stare at his crotch. “You can just pretend that this is the ‘lover.’” He took the pillow from your arms and laid it on the couch.

You didn’t know if you should have felt relived or disappointed that he wanted you to reenact a sex scene with a pillow and not him. It was all quite a bit to take in, but the desperate pout on his face was something you couldn’t ignore. And both your jobs were on the line. You sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay… But only because we have deadlines coming up.” You said. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”

Simeon smiled for the first time that day, hurriedly moving back to his computer and preparing to take notes on what you were doing. “I’m ready when you are.” he announced once he opened up a separate document.

“You sure you don’t want me to just, you know… do you?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you started to undress. It was embarrassing for sure; but part of you relished in seeing Simeon so flustered when it came to the nature of lewd things. You wondered why he had bothered submitting such an outline at all when he wasn’t familiar with how to write erotica; but his determination to branch out to other genres had won you over in the end. It just fell upon your shoulders to show this man how it was done.

“I… No… I can’t. I need to write.” He stuttered. Do not defile her, do not defile her. Her womb is sacred and not something you can toy with… Even if he wanted the first hand experience, he still had rules to abide by.

“Alright, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” You shrugged, unbuttoning your blouse. “Don’t forget, part of the sexiness is in the tease.” You explained, taking your time to sway your hips side to side as each button came undone. Trying to seduce a pillow was so much more boring than trying to seduce Simeon. The things I do for this job…

You made sure to waggle your ass as you peeled off your pants, tossing them to the side along with your blouse. There was something thrilling about being in a room made of glass. Any woodland creature that decided to come visit his garden at that moment would also get an eyeful of your progressively bare body. The rush of having Simeon watch you as you stripped had your heart racing.

At the very least, you knew your efforts weren’t in vain. You could hear the furious clacking of the keyboard as you gave the pillow in front of you a sultry look. As lame as it all was, it was still rather arousing to know you were being watched by the man who you had crushed on for so long now. “Alright… sir. I’m going to need you to lay down. You have a problem that only I can take care of.” You said to the pillow. You tried hard not to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. It wouldn’t do to break the mood, especially when you could tell Simeon was definitely getting some writing done.

You got back onto the couch, straddling the pillow between your legs once you were in nothing but your underthings. Licking your lips, you pretended that Simeon was under you and not the decorative cushion. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his lean body under your own, squirming in discomfort as you took control of the scenario. There was just something about how gentle and soft spoken he was that made your heart flutter with the need to dominate him until he was a flushed, moaning mess.

Using that fantasy in your mind, you slowly started to gyrate your hips onto the pillow, throwing your head back and moaning. “Oh yes…” You breathed, pleasantly surprised at the stimulation you got from the friction of your panties rubbing against your spread core. You hummed, content with the thought of Simeon holding onto your hips to keep your steady. If he wanted to watch, then you were going to give him the best show available.

You grasped at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the fabric of your bra until they were sensitive little buds that made you gasp. As you continued to grind against the pillow, you could feel your essence starting to flow, no doubt you were going to leave quite a substantial wet mark on the pillow if you continued. You wanted to pause and warn Simeon of what was about to happen; but when you turned and saw the look of concentration on his face, you didn’t dare break his focus.

He’ll just have to deal with it later… You figured going back to that happy place in your mind where the writer in front of you was actually under you. Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to hear him moan as you pressed your heat against his cock. Surely he must sound absolutely angelic when he cums. Pushing slipping your hands under your bra, you pushed the fabric away, peeled it off your skin and threw it into a random corner to pick up later. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” You purred, looking down at the cushions below you, wishing you had something sexier to talk dirty to; but you would have to make do with what you had.

Leaning down, you grabbed a pillow to act as your ‘lovers’ head and started to kiss it. It was so hard to ignore just how disappointing it was to make out with a lump of fabric and not the beautiful man in the corner who was so engrossed with his writing, you might as well have been invisible to him. You could only use your imagination to fantasize about how soft Simeon’s lips must be. He always took such good care of his skin and he had an ethereal glow about him, as if he was blessed by the sun itself. You moaned into the pillow, hating the rough canvas you were pressed up against, but at least your pussy was getting something out of how much you were humping the pillow.

You came up, gasping for air after having half smothered yourself with a pillow and glanced over at Simeon again. Even as he was furiously typing, you could see that he was at least a little affected by the show you were putting on. Good, I would have hated myself if he’s not even a smidgen turned on by this. You smirked, looking down at your ‘lover’ and pretended to whisper sweet nothings to them before getting off the couch.

Simeon made a small sound of protest when he saw that you were no longer straddling the pillow, but he quickly shut up when he saw that you were divesting yourself of your panties. “Oh… carry on.” He mumbled, going back to his document, though his eyes continuously flicked up towards you to make sure he was capturing the moment properly.

Feeling your bare pussy rub against the rough fabric of the pillow sent shivers of pleasure up and down your body and you moaned, riding it harder than before. The stimulation was great, but it wasn’t enough. Really, you wanted to have Simeon buried balls deep in you and not at his computer. However, your priority was your job and that meant sticking to what you had to work with. “Fuck…” You groaned, clenching your inner walls around nothing and wishing that you had at least a toy to fill you up and give you something to ride.

You ground against the pillow, your essence soaking the fabric and leaving a sizable wet mark, but you didn’t care. It was all the stimulation you could get and you were going to work it for all it was worth. One hand went back up to your breast, rolling your pert nipple between your thumb and forefinger, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure you were giving yourself. “Yeah… you like watching me touch myself, babe?” You asked no one in particular; but truthfully, you hoped Simeon was really enjoying what he saw and heard..

His fingers on the keyboard never ceased moving as he vividly described the scene before him. He was so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t even notice himself getting hard. There was too much to write and no time to think about the attention the rest of his body was asking for. He licked his lips, his gaze constantly going back and forth from the document to your body. You were acting out the scene so well, he couldn’t stop writing; he needed to record every detail. You were everything he had imagined his main character to be; effortlessly confident, commanding in the bedroom and dripping with sex appeal. Even if it was a spur of the moment suggestion, he had no regrets considering he was getting so much more writing done in the last half hour than he had in the past two months.

Your breathing came out in short little pants as you tried to chase a release that just wouldn’t come with so little to work with. You reached between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, groaning loudly as you made love to yourself. You didn’t know how long the scene was supposed to be, but your thighs were getting tired of riding an inanimate object and you just wanted to get off now.

“Mm fuck.. You feel so good…” You breathed, closing your eyes and imagining Simeon sliding inside of you. The first pass must feel so good. You fantasized about lowering yourself onto his cock slowly letting him savor every inch that entered you. In your head, his bright blue eyes glittered in lust, watching his dick disappear into you until your hips met and he would moan at the feeling of being completely buried in you. “Yeah… just like that…” You moaned, rubbing circles at your clit while your inner walls clenched rhythmically at air.

You went back to dragging your pussy across the fabric of the pillow smearing your essence all over to get as much out of the scenario as you could. Your fingers rubbed your clit harder, pushing you ever closer and closer to release. “Oh… Oh… I’m so close…” You whined, announcing your climax mere seconds before it happened. The last push you needed was looking over at Simeon and seeing him completely engrossed in what you were doing. His fingers frozen on the keyboard and his comfortable pants with a rather impressive tent in them.

“Fuck. Simeon.” you cursed, cumming all over the pillow. Your fingers slowed their pace around your clit, rubbing your labia back and forth as you rode out the orgasm. You fell forward onto the pillows beneath you, still slowly humping them while you let the initial high pass and the afterglow set in. It wasn’t until the haze of pleasure passed that you realized you had called his name while getting off on his couch in front of him.

Simeon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way you called his name. Everything had gone smoothly until you had cried out for him while in the throes of your climax. He had stopped everything he was doing just mere moments before you did that; and now, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to continue with what he was writing.

For once, he was tempted to throw away whatever celestial blessings he had to take you and be the real reason why you screamed his name.

Shoving the indecent thoughts to the back of his head, he turned back to his document, writing a sentence and erasing it, repeating the action over and over again while his brain looped the beautiful image of you as you came on his couch. Now, he noticed the tightness in his pants, the obvious boner he sported as a result of such an experiment. But, he couldn’t be mad at it. He had achieved a groove in writing and he was sure he could finish the draft you needed in time.

Simeon let you rest a bit and gather yourself together on the couch. No doubt both of you were aware of the slip, but he could pretend it didn’t affect him as much as it did. Eventually, you had the courage to look back up at him, only to find him busily typing away at his computer. Sighing, and running your hand through your hair amused that he could stay so calm, you got up and started to get dressed. “So, I’m guessing moving somewhere else worked?” you asked, keeping your tone light.

“Hmm… yes.” He agreed, half paying attention to what you were doing. He couldn’t bear to look at you while you were exposed and waited patiently until you were fully clothed until he made eye contact and spoke to you again. “I definitely got some good notes in. I’ll just need a little more time to flesh out some of the filler scenes and I’ll email you the draft in a couple of days.”

You let out a laugh, surprised that he was able to focus on work still after what he had just witnessed. He truly was as innocent as he presented himself to be sometimes. “Alright, well. I’ll look forward to reading it.”

“Will you be back?” he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You were so helpful, I think I might need more help for the rest of the book.” Not, like I want to see something like that again… No, I just need it for research purposes…

“You know I’ll be back.” You laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “I have to bother you at least once a month to make sure you’re on schedule to finish.”

Simeon slouched into his chair and let out a soft laugh in relief. “Of course, how could I forget.” In his mind, he was already planning new scenarios for you to play out. There would be much more research to be done, and supplies to be obtained before your next visit. But, all those things could wait. For now, he closed his laptop, noticing how low on battery it had gotten.Time had slipped by him, the sun already well on its way past the horizon. “It’s getting late…” He commented, trying to change the subject to something a little safer than the masturbation session you just had in front of him.

“Yeah… I’ll get going and let you work in peace.” In a moment of bold recklessness, you stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, babe. Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make me do for you.” you teased, giving him a coy wink before showing yourself out.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Simeon let out a deep sigh, laughing out loud at the predicament he had put himself into. He wanted to quit everything and dissolve into the ground. He wanted to continue writing and see your body writhe in pleasure. He wanted to also defile you and sate himself inside of you. Most of all though, there was a growing darkness within him, one he didn’t even notice just yet; and that part of him craved to see you put in your place to beg for him like the god he knew he was.

Pushing all his desires down and curbing his lust for the time being, he moved his computer back to his office and let it charge for the rest of the evening. His mind still swirled with the image of your exposed body riding that pillow in the sunroom. The early evening sunset made your body glow with an almost angelic light; and for once, he felt jealous of an inanimate object.

Quietly padding back into the sunroom, he looked at the soiled cushion; feeling a surge of heat rush through him when he saw the wet spot you had left behind. Licking his lips, he approached it like it was a wild animal, tentatively poking at it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to still feel your warmth lingering on the fabric. He could feel shame rising up in him as he laid down on the couch, rested his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of your arousal.

His hand reached down between his legs, slipping past his pants and to his hard length that needed his attention. Turning his head to smother his moans and to surround himself with your unique smell, he teased and pleased himself, putting himself in the scenario you had played out just mere moments ago.

“Oh… oh fuck…” He groaned surprised at how little effort it took to make him cum and ruin his pants to the thought of you bouncing on his cock and calling his name. He was quickly falling down the deep end of temptation and he could feel the darkness of sin encroaching.

The scariest part was the fact that he didn’t care at all.

#Obey me #obey me smut #Simeon x Reader #Obey me fanfiction #Obey Me!#I just want to give this angel all the love and sex he deserves #11 planned chapters so far #Please enjoy the sin #my writing #obey me simeon

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darkhymns-fic · 3 years ago

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Blossoms in Flight

Estelle is having trouble working on her next book, so a visit from Rita was more than welcome - and possibly give her a solution to her writer's block.

Fandom: Tales of Vesperia Characters/Pairing: Estelle/Rita Mordio Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: So here’s a 3 month late bday gift for @taco-night-frenzy ! Please forgive. :) Enjoy some lesbians trying to fly together and it (mostly) turns out okay!

Inspiration just wasn’t striking.

Estelle put her pen down, heaving a sigh that traveled from the very pit of her lungs until it left her mouth. She had been at this for a solid twenty minutes, having cleared her schedule to give her some well-needed writing time. And yet, as the blank piece of parchment before her told her…the words wouldn’t come.

She just couldn’t understand it! She had all the essentials down for a productive writing session; a recently cleaned-up desk where a simmering teacup was set next to her right, flowers placed on the windowsill to give her room a pleasant fragrance, a locked door so that no well-meaning knight (Flynn) could come in and ask if she needed anything, and she had even put up some nice pictures on her wall, a few paintings depicting landscapes and wildlife. Many of them were so pretty that she found herself staring at them for quite a while… or was she just finding an excuse to not do the task at hand?

Estelle shook her head, even tapping her temples with her fingers. “Focus now! You can do this!” She had the habit now of talking to herself when she tried to get into a creative mood, though always making sure her door was locked before she did. “You’ve written one book, now it’s time to write another! So…let’s get started!”

Another breath, taking back the quill pen in her hand. She could hear the children from town playing outside, but she had made sure to lock the window to minimize outside distractions. It was the best way for her to concentrate! Although even just thinking about the outside got her curious to maybe leave her room for a break… Wait, no! This was the problem!

“Focus…” Estelle whispered, taking another deep breath, staring daggers at the page as if to will her words into existence. “Focus…”

The children outside were being quite loud though – sounding as if they were just at her room, knocking their hands against the wall! But she was on the second floor, so that was clearly impossible. It must have been just wishful thinking anyway… She liked to ta her walks outside and read her latest book to the group of children. In some ways, that had been her own source of inspiration as well-

“ -elle! Estelle!”

Oh, sometimes they’d shout her name like that too, especially when she was lost in thought, looking over the great tree of Halure, with its pink petals that floated over them all. She had only moved to this town a few months earlier, along with a few trusted knights, including Flynn, for protection. But she had never felt safer. Never, except when with-

“Estelle!! Open the window already!!”

A sharp gasp left her throat, prompting her to stand up. Her chair was knocked on its side from the motion. “What? Who’s- who’s there?” Was it that ghost that the children sometimes spoke of again…?

“I’m right here!!! Hello?!”

Oh, wait, someone was actually at her window. And going by that voice…

A smile lifted her face as she turned. “Rita? Is that you?”

Her home in Halure wasn’t too tall, but with her room on the second floor, only birds and the like would make it to her window. Often she would open it to the see the town outside, along with the pink petals that floated on the warm breeze, sometimes catching onto her hair. (And with her hair the same pink shade, she would rarely notice the petals until someone such as Flynn helpfully pointed them out). But instead of the town, she saw a sight that was even more heartwarming and exciting.

Rushing to the window that she nearly stumbled, her hands pressed against the glass to push it open – and nearly Rita along with it.

“Agh! Careful!” Rita flailed a bit but latched her fingers onto the windowsill, her brown hair a bit frazzled. She struggled with the action, especially as she seemed to be carrying a sort of mechanical contraption on her back.

Estelle stared for a moment before she realized to grab onto Rita’s hands to keep her steady. “I had no idea you were here! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t have to worry that much.” Rita sighed, gripping back Estelle’s hands. But she didn’t move to go through the window, at least not completely. The window was tall, enough to take in Rita’s entire height, so she deftly placed her feet on the windowsill, looking down at Estelle. “I was just out here knocking on your window for the past ten minutes…”

Estelle gasped. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. I was just so busy trying to… well, focus for a while.” She shook her head, pushing away such worries. “But, I didn’t know you’d visit me!”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Rita frowned at that. “I told you I’d see ya again, just after I finished my latest project.” With that announcement, she jutted a thumb to the machine strapped to her back. “In fact, I used this to go and visit you!”

Estelle’s eyes widened with awe. “Wow… is that a new backpack?”

“It- It’s more than just a backpack! See the fan blades here?” She gestured to the things, currently very still, numbering about four blades altogether, seeming to stick out from Rita’s back like metal wings. “It’s my new flying machine. I told you that I’d show it to you.”

A memory jogged within Estelle. “Ah, that’s right! You did tell me that. I apologize. It seemed to have slipped my mind…” Still, she looked at the flying machine, how compact it was, fashioned from metal. “And all without any blastia?” Always she was impressed by the girl’s genius.

“Of course! It’s utilizing the law of physics anyway. Aerodynamics and such, so you just need to determine the lift, the weight, the drag and the thrust. Though mine works a little differently because of the shape of this, but I still have to calculate how the force of gravity affects it, and if enough thrust from the propellers can lift me up…”

Estelle nodded very slowly. She was impressed! Even with all the information making little sense to her.

Rita noticed. She blinked, cleared her throat, then crossed her arms. “Anyway… I was just in town… wondering if we could get tea together, you know…”

“Oh, that would be wonderful! I know how busy you are with research.” Estelle clasped her hands. “And I have plenty of honey this time!”

“Well, good! Tea is only good with honey, so you should always have plenty!” Rita was really quite adamant about this, which Estelle well-remembered. And if honey made Rita came by for tea more often, she would always make sure to have enough on hand.

The girl remained standing up on the windowsill though, occasionally adjusting the straps wrapped around her torso (perhaps trying to get it off?). Sometimes a rotor blade hit the sides, but Estelle didn’t mind the noise of it. In fact, she found herself a little in awe of the sight, Rita’s silhouette against the backdrop of the sky, where the stray petals of cherry blossoms floated in the breeze. They fluttered all around Rita, who didn’t seem to notice them in the slightest, too preoccupied with her machine.

Estelle must have been staring for far, far too long. “Uh, what is it?” Rita asked with a raised eyebrow. “I-I almost have this done so just get the tea ready!”

Estelle flushed just then. “Oh, Rita it’s not that! It’s just, um…” Recently, the words always seemed to escape her, not just from her pen, but just through speaking. It was as if anything significant thoughts she had just seemed to flitter away from her mind, like frightened birds. But Rita was right in front of her, so at the very least, she could keep track of what she wanted to say… “It’s just, you look really heroic standing up there right now!”

It was clear right away that Rita had no idea what she meant. “Huh?” Although her face also seemed a bit red. Flying must have taken a lot of energy and exertion, which made sense as to why she wanted tea so much. “I don’t…well… I mean if you think so…”

But the longer Estelle looked at Rita, the more she believed the image before her to be true. “Yes! Especially with the cherry blossoms falling around you. Like something out of a novel…” At that, she paused, blinked, then clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s it! The new protagonist should be someone like you!”

Rita seemed to get even redder, and Estelle wondered if maybe the heat of the day was getting to her. “W-what? Estelle, can you make sense please?”

Ah, that’s right. She hadn’t explained it at all to Rita. That was rude of her.

“Sorry. Actually… you caught me at a weird time.” She finally decided to move, going over to a side table in her room where a teapot and some cups were placed. Luckily, the water inside was still hot, and she carefully arranged a chosen tea bag for Rita’s own cup. “You see, I’ve been trying to start my new book for the past hour, but nothing’s coming to mind. It feels like I’ve hit a roadblock, so to speak.” She sighed, pouring the water into the cup. Oh, and of course added in some honey from a small dispenser nearby. “My first one came to me so easily, I just don’t understand what the problem is…”

“…Huh. Can’t say I relate much to that.” But once she turned to Rita with filled teacup in hand, she saw the girl scratch her head, looking at the floor. “Sorry. That was thoughtless to say.”

“Oh no! That’s alright.” Estelle shrugged, once again looking up at Rita against the window. She still looked so heroic, and also just so very cool. She wondered if it was possible to have a painting like this… It was just too bad Estelle couldn’t draw very well. “Maybe I just need to do something a bit differently… I’ve already tried so many different tea brews already.”

“…You really think the kind of tea you’ve been drinking is the issue here?”

“Well, this one time I accidentally switched out my chamomile tea with the ginger one, and it had me up all night!”

“Hmm…”

For a while, Rita seemed to have not heard her, preoccupied with thinking, which happened sometimes. Estelle would usually just let her go through it before interrupting her with anything else. But whatever her musing was, it didn’t last long.

Rita turned her head just over her right shoulder, looking out into the sky. The sun was just beginning to set, casting hues of orange light against Rita’s hair. The petals continued to float around, doing so in such intricate patterns, it seemed that they danced about her. Even the wind picked up, gently rustling Rita’s clothes, including the yellow ribbon wrapped around her arm.

Once again, Estelle could do nothing but stare.

“Well, if you need more inspiration for your book…” Rita said, before fully turning back to her with a smile, one that was full of confidence. “I think I know a way to help with just that.”

Estelle still held onto her teacup, blinking occasionally. “Really?”

“Yeah! The thing is, you’re going about this all wrong.” Rita then finally jumped from the windowsill onto the hardwood floors of Estelle’s room. She did so without any thought to what she still wore on her back, which must have been lighter than it looked. “Just sitting around waiting for inspiration isn’t gonna cut it. You have to go out and look for it! If I waited for inspiration to go and continue my research, I’d just get nothing done. And if something still isn’t working out, I move onto something else. It’s as simple as that.”

Estelle nodded along, fascinated as Rita paced about her room, spilling out advice that was truly so inspiring. “But then… where can I find my inspiration?” she asked with a bit of reservation. “I’ve tried taking walks around Halure, speaking with the children… but I keep having trouble just writing down a few words at most.”

“That’s routine, Estelle. And while routine is nice, it gets boring and expected.” Rita stopped her pacing, facing Estelle with crossed arms. “I only write for academic research instead of any creative writing, but it sounds like you need a new perspective.”

Maybe here was where Estelle got a little confused. She tilted her head. “A new perspective?” How could she do that?

Rita apparently read her mind then. She asked her question so matter-of-factly. “Ever saw Halure from above?”

This was the only time Estelle ever felt just a bit unsure around the genius researcher that was so dear to her.

“Are you sure this is the best way?”

“I told you that it’s fine! You don’t think I’m strong enough, is that it?”

“Oh no! I just worry I’ll hurt you if we’re not careful…”

But as Estelle looked up at Rita from above, she saw the determination in her eyes, the way she pouted cutely like so when she was being, perhaps, just a little bit stubborn.

The reason she was above was because Rita had instructed her to lay down, so that way it would be ‘easier.’ Estelle didn’t question it, and so she complied, using the bed in her room as the best place for her to lay down straight. Rita stood by her bedside, eyes hard, arms crossed.

“…Am I laying down wrong?” Estelle questioned. Sometimes she didn’t always understand directions very well…

“No no, it’s alright! Just… thinking how to do this right.” Rita took a deep breath, then uncrossed her arms to stretch them out. Her face was still a bit red, and Estelle wished she had served her the tea a bit earlier. But Rita had declined, determined to help her find her inspiration, as she had said.

With the flying machine still strapped onto her back, Rita stretched out her arms, then nodded. “Okay! Just be sure to hang onto me once I got you up.”

Estelle, slightly nervous, nodded. “Got it!” Still, she worried. Rita was a bit shorter than she was…

Could she really carry her that easily?

Rita had sounded excited at the idea she herself proposed, and Estelle couldn’t help but be caught up in that same excitement. But, now that the prospect was happening, a few doubts popped in her head – mostly concerning herself. For one thing, her dress was probably not the easiest thing to deal with for the person who would carry her…

But before she could voice any more concerns, Rita brought down the goggles she always wore on her head, placing them over her eyes, effectively hiding them away. Then she was bending down, arms slipping underneath the other girl’s back and legs. “And… okay, just, gotta use my knees…” Rita paused, her face a bit near Estelle’s, the heat from her cheeks a bit apparent. “Uh…”

“Are you alright?” Estelle asked, feeling ashamed. “We don’t have to do this if you changed your mind-”

“I didn’t! Don’t assume that!” And with a pout, Rita slipped her hands further so that she got a better grip on Estelle. “I’m just preparing! Okay… one, two…three!”

She lifted Estelle up so quickly that she almost tripped.

“AAAH I-I mean! I have this, don’t worry!” Rita re-balanced herself, holding up Estelle much more securely. She stood up straight, legs trembling slightly, taking deep breaths every so often. “Hurry and…hold onto me…”

“Oh, right!” Estelle wrapped her arms around Rita’s neck, head leaning into her shoulder. “This good?”

“Y-yeah…” Rita turned to look at her, mouth half-open as if to say something. It was hard to see her expression with those goggles on… But then she turned away again. “Anyway, let’s get going.”

Estelle nodded. “Okay!” Still, she hoped she wasn’t too heavy for her…

But she knew better now to make any mention of it. So, she stayed cradled in Rita’s arms as the girl marched over to the open window, careful to keep her back straight, all while muttering, “All in the knees… Just like Karol said, all in the knees…”

Estelle’s lower half of the dress practically engulfed Rita’s arms, at least from what she could tell from her angle. Maybe I should say something… But the thing was, she liked being carried this way.

Rita then hopped back onto the windowsill. The suddenness of the motion made Estelle squeak. Rita’s arms shook, but only for a bit. And then it seemed as if she ran straight off the edge out into the sky. “Keep your eyes open!”

Because Rita told her so, that was exactly what she did.

It wasn’t the first time she had been up in the sky – far from it in fact. Back when she traveled with everyone, they would ride on Ba’ul and the ship he carried, over towns and cities, over the sprawling grasslands, the oceans that seemed to lead forever into the horizon. She’d feel the wind in her hair, raise her head up to the stars, drawn to the brightest one.

But it was different now.

Held close to Rita’s chest, and hearing the whirr of the rotor blades of her flying machine above them both, Estelle felt something much more different now. Her legs dangled in the air, the petals flying close to her face, bringing with her the scent of the cherry blossoms… and she couldn’t help but keep her gaze on Rita’s face, the goggles covering her eyes to protect her from the wind.

Rita seemed to notice, and though she couldn’t see her eyes, she had a feeling the girl had been caught off-guard. “I-I didn’t mean keep your eyes open on me!”

“Oh?” Estelle half-shouted, the wind carrying away both of their voices.

“At Halure! Look at Halure! Y-you can look at me later!”

Estelle did worry excessively that she had done something wrong then, but with Rita’s insistence, she finally did so, following the petals that drifted around them, to the houses that lined the pathways of the roads, to the trees themselves that extended so high above the town and into the sky. Rita flew around the branches, moved along with the wind currents, all as children shouted excitedly from below.

“Told you I could carry you easy,” Rita announced, eyes straight ahead, the rotor blades continually whirring behind her. “Now you got a new view! Is it helping?”

And though Estelle did look all around her, in awe at the height they were at, at how even with Rita’s arms, there was always that faint sense of precariousness, one that sparked something wonderful in her heart. It was exciting and wonderful, and with the setting sun, the town had never looked so beautiful just now.

But even with all of that, her eyes kept going back to Rita, who had always been so, so inspiring to her.

She had to let her know. “Rita!”

A little shake, Rita turning to Estelle in surprise. “Huh?! Don’t just scream in my ear!”

Estelle was too happy, wrapping her arms around Rita’s neck even tighter, hugging her close. “You just look so very cool right now!”

“Estelle, wait! I’m gonna lose control of my flying-!”

Too late. A brief tilt in the air, messing up the already uneasy momentum that they had, and soon enough, were flying right for that same tree, pink petals flooding both of their sights.

When the great tree had been dying, its leaves wilted and its branches drooping low to the ground, so many had lost hope for it. Estelle had felt a desperate wish in her then, one that she could barely bury down, and didn’t want to. Even as monstrous blood infused with the roots, she had begged, she had pleaded, and that alone had been enough to bring it back.

If only she could do such a thing for her very own self so easily, with just a wish. I want to feel like I can do something again. But sometimes, she realized, one had to look outside of one’s own self to find that inspiration.

As Rita and Estelle flew haphazardly, they landed against one of the branches, with a blanket of blossoms cushioning their fall. Rita flailed, Estelle now effectively on top of it. “Agh! I got cherry blossoms in my throat!”

Still, Estelle couldn’t let go of her. She nuzzled her head against the others, feeling so giddy. “You’re just… so great, Rita…”

“You could have hugged me at any other time!”

Her smile hadn’t left, even as the rotor blades now whirred a little less effectively, their mechanisms a bit clogged from all the petals that went into its crevices. If this solved her creator’s block, she wasn’t sure just yet – but she wouldn’t trade this experience for anything else.

#tales of vesperia #rita mordio #estellise sidos heurassein #ristelle #fanfiction #oneshot

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schrijverr · 3 years ago

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The Media in a Quirk Society

An essay or more a thought piece about how the media adapted to the appearance of quirk. How genres changed and how the media influences and is influenced by society.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~

Something that makes me so very curious is how media must have developed in the BNHA universe after the appearance of quirks.

We hear almost nothing of media other than the news within the universe itself. For now it escapes me if All Might Cartoons are actually mentioned in the show or something of fanfiction. But another fanfic phenomena are pre-quirk movies, aka movies of our time.

The latter is a thing we must agree on, since there was a time before there were quirks wherein movies were made. This also implies that the pre-quirk superhero genre has existed (think MCU or DC)

I want to examine how that must have changed with the appearance of quirks based of what we’ve seen in the show.

When we see the beginnings of a quirk society, we meet AFO, who rises in the chaos and especially the scene where he takes and gives a quirk stand out the most. Quirks weren’t excepted yet, especially visible quirks, while at the same time a quirk means power. We also know the hero profession rises here, because it was too much for just law enforcement.

So we have these components, which all make for really great stories… in hindsight.

After the fact there must have been many stories about a lone police officer, becoming a hero as he saw the force around him crumble. Or a weak person, suddenly developing a powerful quirk that helps them get out of an impossible situation. Or maybe even about someone who feels they are deformed and shunned from society by their quirk and how they overcome it.

But at the moment it was happening there was still a lot of resentment about quirks and people who had them.

When quirks first entered the stage, people who had them plunged the world into chaos or had to hide like the man who goes to AFO to get his quirk removed.

I can imagine that if movie productions could continue in those turbulent times they would focus on the normal guy, still fighting against a suddenly super-powered villain or a quirkist (as I shall refer to it) take on a person who gets a quirk and turns evil.

Or they might even ignore the whole quirk situation in general with a new genre that can be boiled down to ‘No Quirks – AU’ wherein the movie is based in pre-quirk times. This genre would have a lot of nostalgia at first, probably, trying to call upon how simple life was when villains weren’t terrorizing the streets and heroes were just a funny thing of TV.

Maybe it will develop later.

Maybe it will become how difficult it must have been back then with no simple quirk solutions to problems. It might even turn into a genre about invention, mostly, with a fascination in the public of how things that run on quirk-solutions now, could have been solved by a quirkless scientist in the before times.

But back to the developing genre that is set the BNHA real world. Wherein quirkless people might have gotten a center stage in the early years, before quirks became so entrenched in society that quirkism developed against what used to be a majority.

I can picture a young Midoriya watching old movies wherein the quirkless protagonist was the hero against the evil quirks, telling himself that one day that could be him.

However, with the rise of heroes the media attention probably shifted.

The manga/anime describes it as ‘ordinary civilians with their own Quirks decided to take matters into their own hands to bring order to society, and thus the first "Heroes" appeared.’ as it says on the fandom wikia.

This shifts the narrative of quirkless hero against the chaos of quirks, to brave citizen stands up using the power they’ve been granted. Maybe they gave it religious undertones or maybe it was the story of taking the moral high ground and doing what was right for your country and neighbors.

In those early days you probably have more stories reflective of the pre-quirk fictional heroes, wherein the main character has to hide that they’re out there every night breaking the law to bring order.

It can be that at this time the narrative that the police is just the ‘villain taxi service’ starts to originate among bitter storytellers, who have seen the police fail where heroes did not. Though this would be more older filmmakers after this era is over, who start this. When heroes have become accepted, but they still remember how bad the police reacted before.

But on the topic of heroes becoming accepted, that must have been a civil right movement, a right that had to be debated with villains reflecting how bad an idea public quirk use could be.

You can see in the ‘Liberation War Arc’ how something like that could have played out and how it makes for interesting media entertainment as it is a story arc in our world, meant to amuse. Mixed with the fact that the first heroes created order in the chaos, there must be a ton of movies following activists or a hero not only having to fight the villains, but also the system.

And then over time heroes morphed into what they are now.

Hero became a profession and quirks the norm. After a while, just focusing on quirks got less interesting and using quirks as just a backdrop became more interesting.

Sure, you still had the hero genre and with actual figureheads these can range from documentaries to inspired by real life movies or just fictive fights with characters that are obviously based off a real hero or just the real hero. Especially when heroes became depended on their popularity, there must have been plenty that signed an acting contract in the hopes of getting their name and image out there.

With Midoriya’s comment about Todoroki having the backstory of a protagonist, it is clear that the hero genre is far from forgotten.

However, the “normal” genres also developed with society and with quirks becoming normal and no one truly aching for the before times, they must be set in the BNHA world we know.

The tropes we know (and maybe love) will get a new twist to fit this society or maybe disappear completely. New stereotypes and assumptions based off quirks appear, even quirkism might become prevalent in media, teaching kids that those without quirks are freaks or weak and weird.

In my mind I picture a movie trailergoing “She has a water quirk, he has a fire quirk. Will they fall in love despite their different personalities?!?” or “When his family is murdered, he must track down the killer with only the quirk as clue. Will he find out what happened on that faithful day or will the path this sends him on be the last of him???”

The horror genre will also be transformed with the fear of people misusing their quirk being a big thing in society.

As for fantasy, this genre will change with super-powered people being the norm, you can have to get more creative to make it truly fantastical. World building, visually, will be more important to distinguish it from our world, creatures too since there are literally people with bird heads, for example, walking around.

Not to mention the potential of quirks being hereditary that can be used in dramas where the partner has cheated or as plot point as grant reveal of a main character being related to one of the antagonists or even in gang movies as them training together to use their quirks and them all being the same. That would make for a cool visual tbh.

Disaster movies also will be different than they are now. With protagonist who can have quirks that work against them in their situation or if it’s a more hopeful movie how they work together, piling together their quirks and other skills to survive.

And the crime genre will be so intrinsically tied to hero society and with the police being seen as kinda useless, it will be so different than how we know it now. Did crime become part of the hero genre? Is this a piece of cop propaganda left wherein the police tries to save their reputation? I don’t know, but I wanna think about it.

It’s just interesting to me how in a world where the super is normal, media has adapted and this has been keeping my mind busy over the past few weeks.

The transformation in society of quirks as something dangerous that needs to be stopped, to a few brave people standing up for what’s right to finally the commercialization of heroes so that they can keep doing their job.

You see these changes, that’s unavoidable.

Media is such a powerful tool and it’s hardly referenced within the source material (which I understand because there are already so many movingparts), but with the fall of hero society it is interesting how all that propaganda for heroes might disappear back to when quirks first appeared and how the cycle may start again.

A/N:

There are probably so many genres and other stuff thatI haven’t considered, so tell me your thoughts about the media in BNHA!

((also I didn’t want to dive in how racism, homophobia, ableism will develop with quirks and notions people will have about them. It is important to think about, but I do not think that I am the right person to talk about it. If anyone does, tag me or comment the link, because I will 100% read it))

#RR writing #BNHA #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #quirks #quirks in society #quirks in media #movies #movie and film #idk how to tag this lmao

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firstagent · 3 years ago

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Review! Digimon Adventure: (2020) Episode 66: The Last Miracle, The Last Power

In this episode, Negamon poofs Koshiro, Sora, Joe, and Mimi out of existence. Given how much they contributed, it’s hard to notice they were gone.

Well, it definitely wins on style points. Just about everything happens exactly as you’d expect. Enemy turns around any momentum the good guys were having, things get stickier, they rehash that one scene from Our War Game, then they rehash that other scene from Our War Game when Omegamon shows up. It was so obvious that all of those would happen in some order that you’d be more inclined to punish them if they didn’t. But by telegraphing everything so clearly, there’s no room for anything creative or interesting in the narrative. Anything inspirational happens in the presentation. Thankfully what’s there just about makes up for the empty storytelling.

We begin with the traditional round of shallow one-liners reminding us how determined the kids are to not let their worlds be erased. It’s too hard to knock the concept of the pre-climax final battle since it’s so common across so much media, but it’s best executed when the heroes actually have something to say. When they tie in something related to their character development, it’s a nice reminder of what they’ve been through. When it’s just some variant of refusing to give up, it’s a waste of time. Especially when the enemy is trying to eradicate their worlds. Yeah, they better not quit.

In many past seasons, there had always been a certain added stake when the real world got involved. Vamdemon terrorized real landmarks and dragged family members into the fight. The Tamers and Savers worlds saw real destruction that gave them pause about whether Digimon belonged in the human world. Bringing it back here feels more obligatory than intense. It’s been neglected for thirty episodes, and then in a crisis dealt with remotely. For all the effort to establish the Chosen Ones as denizens of the Digital World, they forgot where they were originally from. The treatment here is just as impersonal, as all the shots are on random bystanders. We’re only vaguely aware of these kids having families (with Koshiro we can only assume he has one since it’s never come up), and continuing to ignore them trivializes what should be an equally important reason to fight.

And yet… it’s still fun to watch. Negamon evolving into a floating mass with lots of moving appendages offer plenty of opportunities for the Mega Digimon to fly around and show off in an appropriately chaotic fight. WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon show off some nice teamwork, and the action slows down enough to show Negamon being creepy, pulsing with destructive energy. The obligatory next form appears, invincible for the first few seconds after respawning. In that time, it hits the unimportant kids and blinks them out of existence. Well, the unimportant kids that aren’t Yamato, at least.

Once again, the ghost forms of the unimportant kids are better in presentation than substance. It looks harrowing, they sound humbled, and it’s cool to look at. Still, they don’t say anything interesting, and they accomplish as much as you’d expect non-existent beings to. They’re stuck waiting for the most predictable miracle ever. After hearing all that stuff about Negamon feeding on the internet’s negative energy, you knew its attack would prompt a wave of encouragement and hope in another recycled bit from Our War Game. But again even here, building on the light of hope concept that was instrumental against Millenniumon keeps things consistent and makes a pretty scene to look at.

As obvious as all this was, it’s obvious because it was the natural progression of everything set up before this. You can lament how previous episodes telegraphed it so much and the lack of any interesting spin, but deviating from it entirely would have been far worse. Everything went the way it was supposed to with few surprises. Even the final evolution sequence carried some impressive fanfare and enough pop to make you cheer for it, even if it just ended up being Omegamon showing up again. Again, the disappointment in seeing him for the third time is balanced by the reality that anything else would be too out of left field. That said, it is absolutely fair to dread the inevitability of one episode-long fight next time.

My Grade: B+

Loose Data:

Hey, at least Mimi acknowledged that she has a family! Other than Takeru and Yamato waxing on when they used to be a family, Mimi’s the only one who remembered she had one since the show’s halfway point.

Wonder if Negamon/Abaddomon actually sees the crests when they’re flying at him.

Maybe it’s a Japanese thing, but it’s amazing how many of the kids pictured are using tablets instead of phones. Outside of work functions, are tablets even that common anymore?

It’s a good thing they showed that it was children sending the good vibes to the kids. Half the adults would consider the eradication of all existence an improvement.

It’s little more than lip service and doesn’t explore the idea nearly as much as it should, but it’s appreciated that they at least acknowledge the dark energy within Seraphimon and Ophanimon. Devimon’s as interested in preserving existence as any of the good guys, as is DarkKnightmon it would seem (despite being more connected to Millenniumon’s revival).

Even if it was just heralding Omegamon, that Break the Chain instrumental was amazing.

See reviews of every Digimon episode at Digimon: System Restore! Support the site by joining our Patreon!

#digimon #digimon adventure:#digimon adventure (2020)

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luvidzy · 4 years ago

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muses | x.mh

☆ tct summer collection masterlist

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: xu minghao x reader

☆ summary: while spending your summer in a small town where your grandma lives, you meet another artist and photographer named minghao

☆ word count: 5.5k

Crystal blue waves lapped onto the golden shore, nearly drenching your toes in the water. You stared out at the large lake that your grandmother’s home town resided beside. Despite the fact that you had come here basically every summer since you were born, you never got tired of the lake. The ever-flowing motion of its waters, the endless squawks from seagulls flying overhead, and most importantly the people that surrounded the lake.

You smiled as you took out your phone, eager to take a picture that you could use as a reference for a painting or mural later. But for right now, you were plenty content roaming the familiar streets, letting the inspiration and sunlight soak in.

You found yourself walking to the local ice cream parlor, a cute little restaurant that had been around since the 60s. You walked in, letting the AC cool you down as you made your way to the counter.

“Y/N! Hello darling, what can I get you?” Mr. Han, the man that ran the parlor, smiled at you as you walked up. Mr. Han had run this shop since you could remember, always eager to serve you whatever ice cream you desired as a child.

“Hi, Mr. Han. The usual, if you don’t mind,” you replied, handing him the exact amount of money. You had ordered this treat so many times that you knew exactly the cost. Mr. Han smiled before moving behind the counter to prepare your usual ice cream order. Once the ice cream treat was safely in your hands, you waved Mr. Han goodbye before stepping out and heading to the pier.

Not many people frequented the pier, mostly fishermen or couples who just wanted to sit. You liked to come here to sketch and take photos, but also to just relax. It was a quiet place for you to think, uninterrupted except for your own thoughts. You made your way to the pier, ice cream already gone, but stopped when you noticed something, or someone, unusual.

Your grandma’s home town was small, so over the years you had been here you had met and were acquainted with all of the residents. Your grandma hadn’t mentioned any new people moving in, so your curiosity was piqued when you noticed an unfamiliar boy sitting at the edge of the pier, where you usually sat when you visited. As you moved closer, you noticed that the boy was holding a camera and was looking down at what you assumed to be a photo he just took.

“That’s a pretty photo,” you commented, leaning down slightly. The boy jumped ever so slightly, pressing his camera to his chest as you turned to face you. You were stunned at how attractive this new boy was. His skin was smooth, and he wore round glasses that made his sparkling eyes even bigger. His hair framed his face and he somehow managed to look both innocent and mature at once. You smiled at you straightened up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just haven’t seen you around before. Mind if I sit?” you asked. The boy gave a curt nod, scooching over slightly so you could plop down beside him, your feet dangling over the lake.

“Anyway, that was a beautiful photo. This is one of the prettiest spots to take them, in my opinion,” you said, staring out at the lake. From the pier, you could see the sun hit the water, causing it to shimmer with its every move.

“Thank you. I just stumbled upon this place, but it’s gorgeous,” the boy finally spoke. You hummed in agreement before turning to him and placing your hand out.

“My name is Y/N,” you said. The boy smiled, reaching one hand out to shake yours. His handshake was firm, but his hands were warm and soft.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Minghao,” he said. You smiled. A cute name for a cute face.

“Hope I’m not intruding by asking, but do you live around here? You said I was unfamiliar,” Minghao asked. You smiled.

“Only in the summers. My grandma lives here, and I’ve been coming to spend summer with her since I was a baby. I know pretty much everyone in this town, but you looked new,” Minghao nodded.

“I see. Well, I’m just here for the summer as well. I go to college in the city, a couple of hours from here, and some of my friends thought it would be fun to go somewhere new over the summer for ‘inspiration’.” You giggled at his air quotes.

“Well, you chose the right town. This place has never let me down on the creativity and inspiration front. It may be small, but this place is overflowing with character,” you chirped, smiling warmly. You began to ramble on about your favorite areas of the town, from the ice cream parlor to the campgrounds, to the trolley service, to the hidden waterfalls in the forest.

You were so busy rambling that you didn’t notice how Minghao was staring at you, eyes glossy as you took in your features. He may have just met you, but you were already captivating him. From the way you flung your arms around wildly to emphasize your feelings, to the way you would laugh when remembering a funny memory at a certain place, it felt like it was impossible for Minghao to take his eyes off of you. He didn’t even hear when you stopped talking and turned to him, waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that last bit,” Minghao said, blinking a couple of times to bring himself back to reality. You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I asked if you wanted me to show you around tomorrow? I can show you some great places to take photos if you want,” you offered. Minghao nodded almost instantly.

“That sounds wonderful. Can I bring my friends along?” he asked, almost regretting the question the minute it escaped his mouth.

“Of course, the more the merrier. We can meet at my grandma’s house. Here, give me your phone.” Minghao was quick to relinquish his phone to you, watching as you typed in your contact name and number.

“Text me and I’ll give you the address and the time,” you stated before standing up.

“I should get back home, it’s my night to make dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hao!” you exclaimed, smiling as you waved before rushing down the pier and out of sight. Minghao watched you leave, smiling to himself, and then proceeded to look back out to the lake, camera ready to take more pictures.

The next afternoon, you said goodbye to your grandma as you locked the door behind you. Minghao and his friends weren’t there yet, but you didn’t mind. You took this moment as an opportunity to take in the fresh air, the smell of the lake wafting from a distance away.

“Y/N!” You turned towards the voice, smiling when you saw Minghao and a few new faces walking towards you.

“Hey, guys!” You exclaimed, waving at them. The group of boys stopped in front of you, all smiling at you warmly.

“These are my friends, Jun, Vernon, Chan, and Seungkwan.” He said, pointing to each boy as they were introduced. You waved to each of them, before introducing yourself.

“You guys ready to start your tour?” you asked. The boys nodded eagerly, prompting you to begin to walk down the sidewalk and towards the town. You made small talk with the boys, telling them little stories about your childhood summers spent in the town. Within a couple of minutes, you were standing in front of your first destination.

“Welcome to younger Y/N’s favorite spot: the candy store.” You smiled, opening the door. The candy shop was old fashioned in almost every way. The walls were painted a pastel pink color with cream accents and lined high with jars of different candies, along with center tables that also housed different candies and bags for holding the candies. A little bell rang as you stepped in, alerting Mrs. Dalton of your presence.

“Y/N! Lovely to see you dear!” Mrs. Dalton greeted from behind the counter. You gave her a soft smile and a wave before looking to the boys.

“Feel free to look around and buy anything you like. Some of the candies are common candy like the Reeses, but stuff like the salt-water taffy is all handmade by the Daltons!” you explained, gesturing to different things. The boys were instantly drawn to the candies, and you smiled as you watched them walk around, Minghao with his camera out and ready. You walked up to the counter and smiled at Mrs. Dalton.

“Do you have any of those homemade lollipops?” You asked. Mrs. Dalton gave you a sly smirk, before pulling a blue and white swirled lollipop out of a jar from behind the counter.

“Mr. Dalton made the blue ones just for you, dear.” You melted at the kindness of the older couple before handing Mrs. Dalton 5 dollars.

“Keep the change, Mrs. Dalton. And tell your husband thank you,” you said. The older woman smiled, and you turned your attention back to the boys, licking your lollipop. They were walking around, picking up and examining different sweets. You made eye contact with Minghao as he picked up a saltwater taffy, giving you a warm smile as he placed it in his bag.

After the boys bought some sweets, you exited the candy shop before heading to your next destination. Even though you had been there the day before, you still loved the ice cream parlor more than anything. You knew the minute you offered to show Minghao and his friends around that you needed to bring them to Han’s. Entering in for the second time that week, you smiled at Mr. Han.

“I’m back!” You joked, causing the man to laugh.

“This certainly is a very welcome and pleasant surprise. Can I get you the usual?”

“Sure. I’m gonna pay for these guys too.” You said, motioning to the 5 boys behind you. After giving their orders and paying, you got your ice cream and went to sit in one of the booths.

“This place is adorable,” Seungkwan commented, staring at the decor of the ice cream parlor as he ate his ice cream. You nodded, taking a bite of your treat.

“This decor is the original decor from the 60s. My grandma said it has hardly changed since it was made.” You explained. Minghao had his camera out, taking different photos. That was when your attention was drawn to one of your favorite things.

“Jun, do you have a quarter?” you asked. Jun nodded, fishing the coin out of his pocket. With a bounce in your step, you made your way to the old fashioned jukebox that the parlor had. After depositing the change and selecting Island In the Sun by Weezer, you began to bop to the song, soon dragging Jun and Chan out to dance with you. The two laughed as you began to twist around, dragging them along with your dance moves. When the song finished, you laughed and smiled going back to the booth, unaware of Minghao’s fond gaze on you as you slid back into the booth next to him.

With your ice cream finished, you guys headed out again, this time to a nearby trolly station. Walking into the small building, you greeted the worker with a smile, before asking for 6 tickets that would take you guys to the campgrounds. With a smile and a wave, you led the guys outside to where one of the trolleys was parked on the street waiting.

“Heya John! Is it just us?” you asked, boarding the red vehicle. John nodded, giving you a big grin.

“Yep! Just you guys,” John said. You sat down, the boys following suit before the trolley began its journey to the campgrounds. They weren’t too far away, but the trolly took the scenic route. This allowed you to point things out, sticking your hand out the window and pointing at different things here and there. It also gave Minghao an opportunity to take more photos. Fifteen minutes later you were in the forest, with the campgrounds sign in view.

“Thank you!” you called as John drove away, before leading the boys into the campgrounds and to a trail.

“I saved my favorite place for last,” you said, eyes sparkling as you led them farther from the campsite. After a bit of walking, you made a sharp turn into a small hidden lake in the forest, complete with a rushing waterfall.

“Damn, this is beautiful!” Vernon said, mouth slightly agape. You nodded before you set your small backpack down. With a swift movement, you took off your top to reveal a swimsuit underneath, before jumping into the lake.

When you emerged from the surface, you smiled at the guys and waved.

“Come on, the water’s great!” you exclaimed, splashing around a little bit. With no need for further coaxing, the boys set their stuff down and jumped in. Minghao waited a bit, using his camera to take photos of the scenery. You swam over to where he stood on the shore, pouting up at him.

“Come on, Hao. Before I have to pull you in,” you joked, splashing his legs a bit. Minghao smiled at you.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” You cheered as Minghao put the camera down before jumping in right next to you, splashing you completely. You rubbed your eyes as Minghao laughed.

“Oh, you are so on, Hao.” You and Hao laughed together as you splashed one another. Soon the other boys joined in, leaving you at the mercy of the 5 new boys that you had grown fond of in just a day.

After drying off, your group made its way back to town. You made your way back to your house, smiling at the group of boys.

“And that was my tour of the town. What did you think?” you asked, walking backward down the street. The boys smiled, raving on about their favorite parts of the town. Minghao smiled at you as you laughed at the boy's excitement.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this town never failed in the inspiration department. Thanks for showing us around,” Minghao said with a sincere expression. You flushed ever so slightly before nodding to him lightly.

“Anytime. I hope we can meet up again and hang out? I have an endless list of things we can do if you ever get bored,” you said. Minghao smiled.

“I’d like that.” Before you knew it, you were at the front door of your grandma’s house. Waving goodbye to the boys, you entered your house, letting out a breath as you felt your heart race. Shaking your head, you pushed the thoughts of Minghao and his smile out of your head.

When Minghao got back to the small cottage that they were staying in, he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. For some reason, he couldn’t get you out of his head. His heart was flipping slightly, and the thought of your laugh and smile made him smile a little bit. It was a weird feeling for him. He hadn’t felt this way before. Forcing the thoughts out of his head, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

The next day he decided to go off alone. He loved his friends, but he wanted to find someplace quiet where he could sketch with his earbuds in and not be disturbed. After walking around the town for a bit, he found a park. Considering it was early, there weren’t any kids around. Spotting the swings, he walked over and sat down, letting his feet stabilize him. Pulling out his sketchbook and headphones, he looked up for something to draw.

The park had a surprisingly good view, with a few trees blocking the large lake in the distance. It was beautiful, and Minghao began sketching, letting his music flood his ears.

You had woken up earlier than usual with the feeling and need to get out of the house and do something. So, with your iPad and phone in your hands, you headed into town to find a nice place to sit and edit some photos you had taken recently. You were originally heading to a small cafe in town when you saw Minghao in a nearby park, sitting on the swings. With a small smile, you made your way over, tapping him on the shoulder.

He snapped his head to where you had tapped, smiling when he saw you staring down at him.

“Hey! What brings you here?” you asked, moving to sit in the swing next to him. He motioned down to his sketchbook. You leaned in for a moment, looking at the drawing. Your eyes scanned the carefully drawn lines, admiring the messy beauty that Minghao was creating.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed, eyes stuck to the sketchbook. Minghao inhaled a little bit, heart beating. Why were your compliments making him feel this way? He held his breath until you moved away and flashed him a smile.

“Well, I hope I’m not bothering you. I was going to go to the cafe to edit some photos, but I’ll keep you company if you want,” you offered. Minghao felt himself nod before he could stop himself. You smiled happily, taking out your iPad and stylus to begin editing the photos you had taken. Minghao watched you delicately zoom in and photoshop clutter out of the photo. He stared down at his earbuds before holding one out.

“Wanna listen?” You looked down at his hands and smiled, accepting the earbud. You wiped it down a little bit, earning a chuckle from Minghao, before putting it in your ear. With music playing in both of your ears, each of you got back to work on your projects, enjoying the comfortable silence.

After two hours of working, you and Minghao parted ways with a smile and a promise to see each other again soon. You smiled at your shoes as you walked, feeling giddy for a reason that was still foreign to you. All you knew was that you liked Minghao’s presence, and it made you happy. Minghao did the same thing as he walked the opposite direction, staring down at his sketchbook, happier with his work than he had ever been before.

Another week passed without seeing Minghao. You texted a bit, checking in and asking about his projects, but other than that you hadn’t seen him. It wasn’t until you walked into the local bookshop that you saw Minghao again. You were going to look for some new books to read when you noticed Minghao pursuing the fiction section. With a smile, you approached him.

“Finding anything good?” Minghao turned to look at you, a smile on his face.

“We keep running into each other it seems. And no, I haven’t found anything particularly good,” he said, motioning towards the shelves. He was stationed in front of the classic literature section. You smiled as you scanned the titles before pulling out Pride and Prejudice.

“Have you read this book yet?” you asked, handing it to him. He looked at the cover before shaking his head.

“Nope. I’ve heard of it before though.”

“I highly recommend it. It is one of my favorite books of all time,” you said. Minghao smiled, clutching it to his chest.

“Then I guess I’ll have to read it,” he said. You gave him a wide smile before searching the shelves and pulling out a couple of titles that you liked. With books in hand, you and Minghao paid for your books and exited the store. You walked down the sidewalk together, bags in hand. You talked aimlessly, Minghao sharing stories about his friends and their chaos and you sharing stories about your college friends. It felt so natural to just talk to one another this way, and before you knew it, you were at the street where you needed to part.

“It was nice seeing you, Minghao!” you said, smiling at him.

“And it was nice seeing you. Text me later!” he said. With a wave and a nod, you walked away, head fuzzy and heart leaping with joy. Minghao smiled to himself and he walked away, his heart warm.

Another week went by with little conversation between you and Minghao. That was until you finally got the guts to ask if he wanted to read together at the cafe in town. After agreeing on a date and time, you and Minghao met up at the cafe with your choice of book. Minghao smiled as he sat down with his coffee, Pride and Prejudice in hand. You sat across from him, your book in hand along with your coffee. You both fell into a comfortable silence, flipping pages of your book every couple of minutes.

After a while, you started sneaking glances at Minghao. He looked good with his glasses perched on his nose, sharp eyes gliding along the words written in the book. His hair fell ever so slightly onto his forehead, and every so often he would take a sip of his coffee without looking up. For some reason seeing him like this made you feel weird. Like you wanted to vomit but in a good way. And that’s when it hit you, like a truck going full speed.

You were falling for Minghao.

You anxiously looked down at your book, suddenly feeling very flushed and nervous. You took a couple of deep breaths, hoping that you could calm down your suddenly beating heart and pumping blood.

Minghao was also sneaking peeks at you from across the table. He loved the way you muttered under your breath about the plot or the characters. Every now and then you would reach for your coffee, hand grabbing towards it before you finally found and lifted it. Occasionally you would brush your hair out of your face, allowing Minghao to see your entire face. Watching you and all your habits made him smile. His heart jumped and he wanted nothing more than to watch you do that all the time. And that is when it hit Minghao, like a car hitting a bug.

He was falling for you.

He inhaled sharply at the realization before shaking his head and looking back at his book. He resisted the urge to look at you now and again, afraid that his heart might burst if he looked at you anymore.

After an hour of reading in silence, you and Minghao both decided to stop reading, though you didn’t tell each other that the reason was that you were both too distracted by the other to get any actual reading done. Books in hand, you and Minghao made your way to the pier where you had met. The sun was still high in the sky but the pier was relatively empty, save for a few fishermen.

You and Minghao walked to the end, sitting down so your feet were hanging over the water. Neither of you talked, both afraid that any words you said would come out an incoherent jumbled mess. Besides, the silence wasn’t awkward, in fact, it was quite nice. For someone like Minghao, it was rare to meet someone who he felt comfortable not talking with. He usually felt obligated to keep up a conversation, but with you, he felt at ease just sitting and admiring the view.

You both sat there for a moment, lost in your own thoughts and hyperaware that you were sitting next to someone so beautiful and amazing. Minghao went to set his hand down but recoiled quickly when he placed his large hand on top of yours. You both flushed, looking away to hide your obvious embarrassment and leaping hearts. Before the situation could get any more awkward, you leaped up from your spot, book in hand.

“I should probably go. My grandma is probably waiting for me. I’ll see you later, Hao,” you said, trying not to fumble over your words before rushing down the pier and back home. Minghao stared at you as you left, mind completely overrun with thoughts of you.

That night you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned in the guest bedroom you were inhabiting for the summer, but no matter what, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was awake, racing with ideas, and your hands were itching for you to make something. As the morning birds began chirping and the soft sunlight began breaking over the horizon, you gave up on sleep.

You walked into the kitchen, made yourself a coffee, and went to the garage. The garage was home to your art supplies over the summer, storing your chalks, paints, easels, and everything in between. Taking your bucket full of different chalks, you and your coffee made your way to the backyard. The backyard of the house had a large slab of concrete where the porch was supposed to be, but your grandma never used it so it remained empty. You tied your hair out of your face before getting to work.

Honestly, you didn’t have a plan for the piece of art you were making. Usually, you sketched something out first, but your brain was controlling your hands at this point, making wide strokes and small strokes, forming a piece of art almost mindlessly. Between sips of coffee and the sun rising, your hands slowly became stained with different colors of chalk.

After a couple of hours of work, you finally stared down at your art and your eyes widened. You hadn’t realized earlier, but the strokes of chalk in various shades of pastel pink, blue, and yellow had come together to form an image of a familiar boy on the pier. You blushed as you stared down at it, before brushing it off. Minghao wouldn’t ever see it anyway, so what was the problem?

You jumped slightly as your phone rang. Retrieving the device from your back pocket, you sighed as you attempted to press the answer button without getting chalk on your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N?” Minghao’s voice rang clear through the phone. You froze, eyes stuck on the chalk drawing in front of you.

“Uh, hey Hao. What’s up?” you asked.

“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. I was gonna go through the photos and I’d love to get your opinion on them,” Hao said. You smiled to yourself, feeling your heart jump a little bit in your chest.

“I’d love to. Give me a couple of minutes, I just got done doing a mural so I need to wash up.” You explained, staring down at the mess of chalk on your clothes and skin. Hao laughed.

“No problem. I’d love to see the mural sometime.” You froze again, your brain rebooting as you tried to figure out what to say next.

“Uh yeah, okay. Send me the address and I’ll be there soon,” you said before hanging up. You let out a large sigh, trying to regain your breath and thoughts. You were about to head inside when the mural caught your eye again. Eyeing it for a few seconds, you pulled up your phone camera and took a photo of it.

After you showered and got yourself presentable (which took way more time than it should have), you were on your way to the cottage. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your grandma’s house, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t spend a majority of the walk stressing about seeing Minghao.

It was weird. Before, everything had been fine. You’d texted like friends who had known each other for ages, you felt at ease with him even when it was silent, and overall you felt comfortable in his presence. All of that was still true, but somehow it all felt different knowing that you liked him.

You forced yourself to stop overthinking as you approached the cottage door. Vernon answered the door, asking you how you’d been. You made small talk, telling him about your latest baking adventures and some new art projects. You didn’t bring up the mural. Vernon kept talking with you while he led you to Minghao’s room. He left after guiding you, giving you a wink which only made you more nervous.

Gently pushing the door open, you spotted Minghao sitting on the floor in casual clothing, back against the edge of the bed and glasses once again perched on his nose. His laptop was sitting on his lap and his slender fingers were clicking away at the keys and mousepad. He looked up as he heard the door open, smiling softly as he noticed it was you.

“Hey! Come here, I wanna show you some photos,” he said, patting the carpet next to him. You quickly scrambled to sit next to him, aware of the way his arm pressed against yours when you looked at his computer screen. The screen was covered with photos of different parts of town, from the pier to the candy shop. You smile as you observe each photo, Minghao clicking through them.

“Hao, these are gorgeous,” you said, stunned by how beautiful the photos were. He smiled.

“Thanks.” He continued to click and it wasn’t until he clicked forward and quickly clicked back that you sent him a questioning gaze.

“What’s the matter?” The photo that you had seen for a second looked like just another photo of the scenery the town had to offer, but the look on Minghao’s face made it seem like it was a crime.

“Nothing. Those photos aren’t finished anyway.” He said, quickly, but before he could stop you, you reached over and clicked the next arrow. Your eyes widened at the sight you were met with.

It was you. The photo was of you at the candy shop, holding the blue and white swirl lollipop and smiling like there wasn’t a care in the world. You had never thought you could look so beautiful, but the way Minghao captured you made it look like you were an angel. You unconsciously pressed the forward arrow again, revealing more photos of you from throughout the trip. A photo of you dancing with Chan and Jun at the ice cream parlor. A photo of you laughing as you ate your ice cream. A photo of you at the window of the trolley, hair blowing, and a content smile on your face. A few photos of you as you led them through the forest and last but not least some photos of you in the secret lake, the water sparkling around you, but you seemingly sparkling more.

“Hao…” You were speechless. These photos were stunning, but why had Minghao chosen you as a muse?

“I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so carefree that day. Everywhere we went you had a smile on your face and you looked like an angel. I figured it would be a missed opportunity to not take some photos of you. Originally I was only gonna take some at the candy store, but I loved you in those photos so much that I had to take more,” Hao explained, his voice tense from nerves. You stared at him, shocked. He thought you were beautiful? You smiled softly at him.

“Well, I guess we are both each other’s muses,” you said. Minghao furrowed his brows in confusion while you pulled your phone out. You quickly pulled up your mural from this morning and showed it to him. His eyes sparkled as he took in the chalk mural that you had made. It was so intricate, yet stylistic. He was drawn in different shades of pastel, almost like a stained glass window made of chalk.

“I couldn’t sleep last night cause my brain was itching to do something. I woke up and started to make this mural, but I wasn’t really thinking about it when I made it. My brain just drew the lines the way my heart wanted them to be. It wasn’t until I was finished I realized that it was you,” you explained, face heating up as you tried to explain yourself to him. He looked up from the phone to you, before smiling.

“Well, this makes me less nervous to tell you that I like you. I think I’ve liked you since we first met, but I didn’t realize till we were at the coffee shop,” Minghao admitted. You let out a small chuckle.

“I like you too, Minghao. Maybe tonight, we can go on a proper date?” You asked. Minghao nodded happily.

“I’d like that very much,” he said. You smiled as you felt his arms wrap around your shoulders, bringing you in close. You cuddled into his chest, feeling weightless. The nervousness that was there before was gone, leaving only the content feeling of love in its place.

This town had never left you dry for inspiration, and you think that this town finally brought you your forever muse.

#xu minghao #seo myungho #minghao x reader #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao fluff #minghao fluff #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen minghao #seo myungho x reader #tct summer collection #a tct summer #xu minghao fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen oneshots

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fairylightsandchai · 5 years ago

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The Internship - Part 1

A/N: Hello! I know I usually don’t post fanfiction to this blog, but I really wanted to participate in @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s Pre-Code Challenge! Just ignore this if you follow me and you’re not interested.

Pairing: Dark!Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: >10K

Summary: You are a student in the former-Captain America’s American History class, and you soon notice that Professor Rogers has been paying more than a professional amount of attention to you. But when he approaches you with an internship opportunity that’s too good to be true, how can you say no?

(A/N: This fic contains non-con elements, stalking, and manipulation, and in later parts it will inclue rape, breeding kink, and kidnapping. It is also inspired by The Wild Party, a film from 1929. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.)

You had always wanted to be a writer. When you were a little girl, you’d spent most of your time with your nose in a book and your head in the clouds, dreaming of the day when you would tell stories of your own, stories that connected with people all over the globe.

And then the Battle of New York had happened.

You had been in high school during the attack, a shy freshman who had only wanted to blend in and disappear amongst the rest of your classmates. You’d still had your dreams of being a bestselling author someday.

But, like so many other things in your small, sheltered world, all of that changed the day the Chitauri invaded. You hadn’t been in the city at the time; you’d grown up in upstate New York, about an hour away from the busy metropolis, but it had still shaken your small town to its foundations. It was too close to home, too huge for you and your neighbors to comprehend.

After it had happened, you spent less time dwelling on fiction and more time focused on the truth; the nonfiction isles of your school’s library became your second home, and you were always the first one in your family to read the Sunday paper. You followed current events almost obsessively, imagining one day having your name printed on the New York Post under a ground-breaking story that would define the rest of your career – the rest of your life.

You had not, however, counted on having one of the Avengers as your professors in college, and yet here you were, stood outside the history building of Columbia University with binder in hand, a syllabus and class schedule tucked inside of it.

You hadn’t realized that you would need to take classes on subjects other than writing – you’d known about the needed electives for your course, obviously, but most of them were somehow linked to writing, be it creatively or informatively. Your required history credit had surprised you, though, and your surprise only doubled as you’d scrolled through the available history courses on your student Blackboard account and found a name that stood out amongst the rest. American History (157) – Professor Steven Grant Rogers.

At first you’d chuckled at the coincidence and signed up for it without thinking, but after you’d been accepted into the course, after you’d read and studied its syllabus, you’d started researching your various professors only to find that Professor Steven Grant Rogers…was actually THE Steven Grant Rogers. As in, Captain America himself. As in, one of the people who had fought against the Chitauri and inspired you to seek out journalism.

And now you were about to walk into his class.

Letting out a deep sigh, you pushed a strand of your hair out of your eyes and adjusted your cardigan before pushing open the door of the classroom and stepping inside. Looking around, you only noticed a handful of other students, but then again you had arrived fifteen minutes early for class. Your eyes scanned each of their faces before finally meandering to the front of the classroom, immediately picking out the shape of your professor sitting at his desk.

Even with him sitting behind his desk, you could tell that he was huge. His shoulders were broad, and the fabric of his light blue shirt strained against them as he hunched over, jotting something into a leather notebook. His hair was neat and trimmed, and he had grown out a beard since his retirement from the Avengers. It looked good on him, you mused, but in the middle of your thoughts he turned and looked at you, his piercing blue eyes looking directly into yours, and you froze where you stood.

You saw his eyes widen for a split second while he took you in, but before you could register the shift in his expression he had put on an easy smile, giving you a small nod.

“Welcome,” Professor Rogers spoke, his voice warm and genuine.

You, for your part, answered with an incredibly smooth and well-thought-out response.

“U-um…” you stammered, shifting on your feet. “Hello.”

Feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, you ducked your head and darted to the first row of desks and sank into one, willing your heart to stop its infernal pounding. As you silently cursed yourself for being so nervous, you opened your binder and pulled out the only two sheets of paper in it along with your spiral bound notebook before reaching into your backpack and rooting around for a pen.

He’s just a person, you lectured yourself internally. A person who has saved the world on more than one occasion, but a person, nonetheless. He probably gets tired of people acting differently around him just because he’s- “Do you need a copy of the syllabus?”

The voice came from in front of you, and your head popped up to see Professor Rogers standing in front of your desk holding a stack of papers. He held one out to you, but you quickly smiled and picked your syllabus off of your desk.

“Oh, no, thanks! I printed one off last night,” you explained. “But thank you.”

His smile grew, and he walked back to his desk, setting the papers back down.

“You’re prepared; I’m glad to hear it.”

The minutes ticked by after that, a slow but steady line of students filing into the class as its start time grew nearer. You gauged your peers’ reactions curiously, observing as some hardly seemed to recognize your professor while a few others stopped to ask for a selfie with him. The first time that happened, your eyes had widened their bold question, but the former Avenger bared it gracefully, simply shaking his head and giving them a smile.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to hold off on that till the end of class,” he’d say. “If you still want one after we’re all done then just stay behind for a few minutes.”

Finally the clock read 10:30 and Professor Rogers made his way to the front of the desk, right in front of the empty, clean whiteboard. He took a few moments to look out over the full classroom, taking in all of the students before him. When his eyes landed on you, you swore that you saw him linger for a moment, a curious gleam resting in his eyes before he looked away and opened his mouth to speak.

“Well, everyone, it’s time to get started,” he began. “As you probably know by now, my name is Steve Rogers, and this class is dedicated to American History from 1914 to 1939. I’d like to just say right off the bat that I’m happy to have all of you in my class, and I hope that this course is informative and helpful to each of your personal fields of study.

“Now to address the elephant in the room,” he said, starting to pace slowly, “yes, I was alive during most of that period of time, and I did use to be known as Captain America. But I hung up that hat a few years ago, and I’d appreciate it if you showed me the same courtesy and respect that you show your other professors. That being said, I don’t want you to hesitate to ask me any personal questions you may have as long as they relate to what we’re discussing in class. Any off topic questions should be kept to yourselves or saved for after we are finished for the day.

“Any questions?”

There was a moment of silence as he searched for any raised hands.

“Is the shield as heavy as it looks?” someone called from the back row, and a few snickers could be heard from around the room.

Professor Rogers let out a chuckle of his own and pointed to the student who’d asked.

“That is a great example of a question that should be saved for after class.”

____________

Steve waved goodbye to the last of his students, only minorly annoyed at how many had stayed late to take a picture with him. As he packed up his things and prepared to head to his office for the rest of the day, he mused that he should have been used to it by now. With social media so prominent in society these days, he’d been hounded for selfies ever since 2012, but they were still (and probably would always be) aggravating to him.

He didn’t linger on that today, though; he had so many other important things to think about, after all. And most of them revolved around you.

A smile twisted his features as he remembered how you’d looked when you’d first walked into his class – so shy and hesitant but just as gorgeous as always. He’d been so pleased to see you wearing your long green cardigan today; it was one of his favorites. Mostly because of that time he’d seen you walking around your little apartment wearing nothing but your bra and panties under it, but he had to admit that you’d looked almost just as sexy wearing it with those brown leggings you’d had on today.

As he made his way across campus to the building his office was in, he didn’t even try to hide the smirk on his face; he finally had accomplished the first part of his plan. He’d hoped to have you in his class sooner, but it had been hard finding someone to hack into the school records to add that history credit to your list of prerequisites. Well, rather, it had been hard finding someone discreet enough to get the job done. Plenty of his friends would have been able to do it without any problem; hell, Tony probably had done that exact same thing in the past. But they would have asked questions, and he couldn’t afford to have people poking around in something that didn’t concern them.

A part of Steve knew that this wasn’t the right way of going about having you; the Steve from before Thanos would have been disgusted with his actions, absolutely repulsed at what he was planning to do. But after the snap, after he’d watched so many people he’d cared about turn to dust, something in him had changed. He’d tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to do the right thing, but in the end it hadn’t been good enough to stop everything from happening. And even now, after Thanos was dead and the fallen had been brought back, he was still different than before. He’d done the right thing his entire life, and all he’d gotten from it was heartache.

But now he would finally claim what he deserved. He would claim you.

The first time he’d seen you, it had been in the campus coffee shop. He had only been teaching for a year at the time, and he hadn’t foreseen how overwhelming it could be. While the students were cramming and stressing over finals, he was clamoring to compile the perfect exam for his class, the perfectionist in him never fully satisfied and constantly worrying if he had enough questions, if they were balanced enough, if they were too easy or too hard or irrelevant to the course.

Basically, he had been frazzled, and all he’d wanted was a small black coffee and a corner booth at the café to work on his laptop in. But then he’d seen you.

You were sitting at a table with a girl around your age, and the two of you were laughing about something; it must have been hilarious, because your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed as your laugh bubbled out of your smiling lips. It was in that moment that he knew that love at first sight existed. Every love song he’d ever heard had suddenly sounded in his ears, and he stood there as if frozen as he watched you, his eyes already straining to remember every little detail about your face.

After that day, he’d started seeing you on campus more and more often, though that might have been because he was following you. In his mind, though, it wasn’t following. It was…researching. He had to know if he’d been mistaken, if that electric feeling he’d felt upon seeing you had somehow been something other than love at first sight.

But as days turned to weeks turned to months of him following you, of him watching you while you were none the wiser, he knew that he hadn’t been mistaken. It seemed fell for you more and more with everything he learned about you and your life. Your body, your mind, your very soul seemed to be meant for him.

There was a problem, though. On the third day of him watching you, you and your friend from the café (he’d learned that her name was Tina) had gone to the library to study together, and he’d overheard you telling her something that made his heart sink. “So… You’ve been in college for a year now,” Tina had started, and you’d groaned, knowing where she was going even before she said anything else.

“No, Tina,” you sighed.

“What! I’m just wondering when you’re planning on finding yourself a man,” your friend insisted as you rolled your eyes.

“Is never a viable answer?”

“No – you and I both know it’s not. C’mon, you’ve talked about wanting to meet your dream man since high school!”

“Well, yeah, I’ve talked about it,” you’d said. “Talking about something and actually doing it are two different things, babe.”

“I knowww,” Tina had sighed. “But c’mon, now is the time to be looking for people to share a future with.”

You’d snorted a bark of laughter at that.

“It most certainly is not,” you’d countered. “I need to focus on my career right now, Tina. Even IF I met Mr. Right, I’m not gonna start a serious relationship until after college. I gotta put myself first right now.”

“I guess I see where you’re coming from,” she’d huffed. “I get it. But you could just, you know…fool around, right? College is the time for experimentation! Don’t you wanna get that cherry popped before you graduate?”

“TINA!”

“What!” your friend had laughed. “I know you’re dying to turn in that v-card of yours.”

Steve had had to stop listening at that point. With a muffled curse, he’d turned on his heel and all but fled from the library, feeling his heart soar and shatter all at once. On one hand, that same sick part of him that was driving his actions was all but singing; if your friend had been telling the truth, then you were a virgin. His (Y/N) really was a good girl – something that was rare to find these days, especially in young college girls. A sweet, innocent girl just like he’d always dreamed about starting a family with.

But, on the other hand, you were determined to hold off on relationships until the end of college. And even if you’d be willing to let Steve be the exception to that rule, that still didn’t change the fact that you were a student and he was a member of the faculty; he would not only lose his job if the two of you were found out, but he was sure that reporters and journalists would jump at the opportunity to write an exposé about Captain America taking advantage of a student at the university he taught at.

No, he would have to be smart about this. He knew he didn’t want to wait for you to finish your four-year degree, but he also couldn’t risk either of your reputations with some kind of forbidden relationship, if you’d even have him. He would have to think this through. He would have to come up with a plan.

___________

You were surprised at how quickly you got used to having Captain America as a teacher. You would still get nervous when he spoke directly to you, of course, but the insight he had to offer was priceless. It was one thing to learn about a period of history from a textbook, but it was another thing entirely to learn about it from someone who was actually there.

Professor Rogers was knowledgeable and kind to all of his students, and your favorite parts of his lectures were when your classmates would raise their hands and ask him about what it was like to live during whatever part of history you were learning about. You’d learned about Captain America and his backstory in high school history classes, of course, but the way he would answer those personal questions showed a whole different side of him. But you were starting to wonder if that new side of him was as golden as his status as a hero made him out to be.

Recently, something seemed a little bit off about him, as much as you hated to admit it. It only would happen in brief little flashes, so brief that immediately after you would find yourself questioning whether or not it had actually happened, but you could swear that he’d been…staring a lot recently. Specifically, he would be staring at you.

More and more often in class, you would start to feel like you were being watched; it was if you could sense eyes on you just out of the corner of your vision, and it would make your hairs stand on end. Usually, you would turn and see nothing out of the ordinary, and you would be able to chalk it up to an overactive imagination. But every now and then, you would turn and see Professor Rogers staring at you, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark.

As soon as it would happen, his expression would clear into a neutrally polite smile, and you always tried to return it to the best of your ability. But as the weeks went by, it was happening more and more frequently. And then there were the touches.

Mr. Rogers never touched you in an inappropriate way; you were almost certain that he never would. But whenever he would collect your papers, or whenever he would pass out assignments, his hand would always seem to linger. Sometimes, he would let his fingertips drag against yours as he took whatever you were handing to him; sometimes, he would set his hand on your shoulder for the briefest of moments when you dropped an assignment off with him before leaving class.

He’d also started commenting about your appearance at the beginning of class. From the moment you walked in the door to the moment you sat down in your seat, he’d manage to make some comment on your outfit. The first time he’d said something was on one of the many occasions where you were wearing your favorite cardigan.

“You look very nice today, (Y/N),” he’d mentioned in passing, almost making you stumble on your way to your seat. You’d barely managed to stutter out a ‘thank you’. After that, it happened every time you saw him, and some part of your mind whispered that he never complimented your classmates the way he would compliment you.

“I like how you did your hair this morning,” he’d said the next time.

“Like the new jeans, (Y/N),” the week after. (How had he even known those jeans were new?)

“That’s a nice color on you.”

“Looking lovely as always.”

You did love having Professor Rogers as your teacher, but each class with him made you feel increasingly uncomfortable despite your best efforts. In your mind, you knew that you were reading too much into it, but that was never able to stop you from feeling a cold shiver run up your back when you’d see him glaring at you from behind his desk.

Despite your growing anxiety about your history professor, though, you were settling in quite nicely to your day to day routine. Your favorite days were Fridays, though; you spent your afternoons right before the weekend with your best friend, Tina. She had been your friend since junior year of high school, and while the two of you were opposites when it came to most things, the bond you shared was strong and deep.

This Friday, however, she’d had to cancel your weekly study session; Tina was in Columbia’s dental department, and every now and then her and the other aspiring dentists would do volunteer events to help people in the surrounding area get free dental care. You were always proud of her when she took part in events like those, but you always felt a little lonelier on Friday afternoons.

After spending the morning sleeping in and meal prepping for the week, you set out on your way to the library without your best friend in tow; you would just have to study on your own that week, especially with the first test of the semester looming over you in Mr. Roger’s class. He was kind to his students, yes, but he was also demanding. He’d made it abundantly clear that he expected quality work out of his students.

“This is an advanced class,” he would say. “I expect you to be advanced learners.”

Pulling your heavy wool jacket tighter around your body, you trudged into the library and sat at yours and Tina’s regular table towards the back, opening your history textbook and busting out your favorite blue highlighter; this would be a study session of the ages, not interrupted by anything or anybody-

“(Y/N), is that you?”

…Maybe you’d spoken too soon.

Looking up, you saw none other than the man whose class you were about to be studying for. Professor Rogers was walking over to you with one hand in his pocket; in his other rested a copy of The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, and you smiled as you read its title.

“Hi, Professor,” you greeted him. You made to stand up out of your chair, but before you could he took his hand out of his pocket and set it on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“Oh, no, don’t get up on my account. What brings you here today? Got a big test coming up or something?”

You forced a weak smile to your lips, acutely aware that his hand was still on your shoulder.

“Oh, yeah,” you managed to joke. “One of my pesky teachers is giving us a test next Thursday.”

“Who does he think he is?” your teacher chuckled. Finally, he let his hand slide off of your shoulder, and you once again looked at the book he was holding.

“The Book Thief?” you asked, nodding to it. “Are you checking it out?”

“Oh! Yeah. For the second time, actually. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Really? It’s one of my favorites too!”

Steve grinned, even though he’d already known that. He’d read most of the books you had on your shelf at home; at first, he’d done it to try and draw closer to you, to see what kind of stories you liked. But after a while he just did it because you had good taste; the only book of yours that had disappointed him was a cheesy teenager romance you’d had since high school, but even then he thought it was adorable that you found enjoyment in such things.

“It sure is a small world, huh?” he drawled, pulling out the chair across the table from yours. “Do you mind if I join you for a little while?”

You hesitated, looking between the chair he was already half sitting in and the charming smile he had on his face. Something about the whole thing seemed off to you, but you shook away that feeling and nodded your head.

“Be my guest,” you finally said, and your professor didn’t hesitate to sink into his seat.

“Thanks, doll.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at that and quickly gave him what you hoped was more of a convincing smile.

“N-no problem, Mr. Rogers,” you hurriedly assured him. A smirk stretched across his lips as he reached across the table, letting his hand rest on the back of yours.

“I’ll never get used to people calling me that,” he chuckled. “How about you just call me Steve when we’re not in class?”

Your eyes widened and you gulped, eyes flickering between his face and his hand, so warm against yours.

“Wouldn’t that be, uh… unprofessional?” Your voice was higher pitched than usual as you said it, and it only made his smile grow.

“Not if we kept it our little secret. You wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?”

He arched his eyebrows questioningly at you, and for some reason you immediately shook your head.

“No, I… I wouldn’t tell anyone, Prof- Steve.”

Steve tried his best to keep his face neutral, but on the inside, he felt like fire works were going off in his head upon hearing you say his name. He knew it would sound sweet in your soft voice, and if it sounded good now, he couldn’t imagine how nice it would be to hear you moan it. One day, he promised himself. One day.

You squirmed in your seat as Professor Ro- Steve, you told yourself, Steve – watched you. After a few seconds of silence you hesitantly leaned forward.

“Steve?”

He seemed to snap back to reality, and once more his ever-present smile was carefully arranged on his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I, uh… Zoned out there for a second.”

“It’s ok,” you assured him. “I do that in your class all the time.”

“Hey,” he laughed, “C’mon, that’s not nice.”

You chuckled at your own joke and shrugged.

“I’m just joking,” you assured him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he grinned. “Maybe that’s why you and Tina are always studying together.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but something stopped you from saying anything. Something about what he’d just said didn’t quite make sense, you told yourself.

Steve furrowed his brows at the look on your face.

“You ok over there, doll?”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded rapidly, turning to collect your things as alarm bells kept going off in your head. “I’m fine. I actually just remembered something; I have to go.”

“Go? So soon? I didn’t chase you off, did I?” His lips were lifted into a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched you pack up your books.

“Oh, no!” you were quick to exclaim. “No, not at all! I just… I just left one of my textbooks at home. I’m so stupid.”

You finally slung your bag over your shoulder and made to leave, but all of a sudden there was an iron-like grip encircling your upper arm. You whipped your head around so quickly that for a moment your hair obscured your vision. When you shook it away, you saw Steve watching you with slightly narrowed eyes, his smirk still on his lips.

For a moment, you just stared at him, feeling your heartbeat quicken as his thumb idly rubbed circles against your bicep.

“Don’t call yourself stupid,” he finally muttered, letting his hand fall. “You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). I’m sure you’re just feeling a little…overwhelmed. From your classes, that is.”

You nodded numbly, taking a small step backwards, taking yourself out of arm’s reach.

“Y-yeah… That must be it. Sorry, Steve.”

You turned and walked away, just barely catching his next few words.

“No problem, hon.”

You felt his eyes on you all the way out of the library, and the feeling didn’t go away until you fell asleep that night, the sound of his voice echoing in your ears and the line of his smile still etched behind your eyelids. Just before you drifted off, it suddenly came to you, the reason why you’d felt such a sudden need to leave him.

How had he known that you were friends with Tina?

_____

Steve sighed as he sank into his armchair, watching you fall asleep through his telescope; one day he would really have to talk to you about leaving your blinds open.

Once he was sure you were asleep for the night, he looked around his small apartment, thinking about your little study session in the library. When you’d left in such a hurry, he’d felt angry at first, just barely able to keep himself from snapping at you to sit back down. It was rude to just run off like that, after all.

But then he’d heard your heartbeat, pounding away in your soft, sweet chest, and he’d understood: you were nervous around him. The fact had made him so giddy that he’d excused your impolite behavior this time, letting you go and waiting a few minutes before following you back to your apartment. You were nervous around him, and he was willing to bet it was because of your feelings. He’d been watching you even closer than usual for the past month, watching how you’d squirm in your seat in class when your eyes met his, feeling your quickening pulse anytime his hand lingered on yours.

You were starting to fall for him, he just knew it.

He stood up from his armchair, wandering over to his tiny kitchen and grabbing a beer for himself. It would all be worth it someday – the tiny apartment he’d bought just to be closer to you, the time he’d dedicated to watching you each day, the expensive hidden bugs he’d planted in your house so he could listen in on your life. One day, when you were well and truly his, he would move out of this apartment and buy a home for the two of you, one big enough for the family you would have.

He could see it even now as he settled back into his favorite chair, peeking through the telescope to glance at your sleeping form. One day, you would be able to quit your silly dream of journalism and be his wife, focusing on him and the children you would have. Oftentimes, Steve would imagine five or six little kids running around the house, even though he knew it was unreasonable to think of such things.

You guys would stop at four, he’d decided.

His cock twitched in his sweatpants at the idea of you round and swollen with his child. You would be such a good mother, such a good wife. You would be everything he’d ever wanted.

With a sigh, he took his cock out, stroking it leisurely as he kept your eyes on your face, peaceful and oblivious as you slept on. He hoped you were dreaming about him, fantasizing about him the way he was fantasizing about you right now.

He let out a soft moan at the idea of what your first time together would be like. You would lead him into your bedroom, hand in his as your hips swayed with your stride. He would sit on the edge of the bed as you stripped, watching as each delicious inch of your skin was slowly revealed to him. You would be wearing white, lacy lingerie, as pure and unsullied as your body.

His hand moved faster on his cock as he imagined what you’d taste like, what it would be like to have his face buried between your legs, his tongue delving into your tight, wet heat as you bucked and squirmed against him. You’d pull his hair and moan his name, your voice getting higher and breathier the closer you got to your release.

But he wouldn’t give it to you, oh no. Not with his tongue at least. He would pull away at the last second and hold you in his arms, his eyes not leaving yours for a second as he pushed his cock into you. He would go slow, at first. He knew it would be your first time, and the last thing he ever, ever wanted was to hurt you. A small part of him still wondered, though, what noise you would make as he pressed into you for the first time, how his cock would look coated in your cum and blood, how your face would contort in that strange mix of pleasure and pain as he took your innocence.

All too soon, though, he was brought back to reality when he felt his cum coat the back of his hand, and as he came down from his release, he felt a familiar surge of disappointment that it wasn’t your pussy that was making him cum, that his were the only moans to be heard in his lonely apartment.

He shoved his cock back into his pants and took one last look at you before standing up to go clean himself off. You were still sleeping, innocent and unaware of all the plans he had in store for you.

_______

You debated skipping your next class with Steve. As each day went by, you got more and more paranoid. Whether you were at work, walking from class to class, or even at the grocery store, you kept thinking you saw Steve. You would catch a glimpse of blonde hair or broad shoulders and do a double-take, but every time you saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Part of you still thought you were overreacting. He was your teacher, for god’s sake. And he was a former Avenger; if anything, you should’ve felt safer in his presence.

When Thursday came around, you pushed down your desire to skip class and soldiered on, stopping for a coffee on the way and taking your seats just a few minutes before class began. The teacher you’d been so paranoid about was seated behind his desk, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he stared at his laptop.

As you passed him on the way to your seat, his bright blue eyes darted upwards, and he gave you a soft smile like he always did when you walked into his classroom.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” he greeted you. “That’s a nice sweater you got on today.”

“Good morning, professor,” you’d murmured back, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Thank you.”

You scurried over to your seat and plopped down into it. With all of your nerves, you’d almost forgotten to study for the test today. You’d only managed to cram in about half an hour last night; all of your other attempts at studying had found you without the ability to focus on the textbooks in front of you, mind wandering distractedly.

“Alright, guys,” your professor finally sighed, standing up from his desk and grabbing a stack of papers off of it. “Before we get started with this test, do any of you have any questions?”

When no one raised their hand, he nodded and started passing them out. As he set your test on your desk, you looked to see him wink at you, his lips curving upwards.

“Good luck,” he whispered, and your cheeks heated as you slid the paper closer to yourself.

After that, you made a decided effort not to make any more eye contact with your teacher as you started writing out your answers. Mr. Rogers had only ever given you guys essay questions, encouraging his students to write out their thought processes behind each of their answers. You kind of resented him for it; essay questions were always, without fail, tedious.

The minutes ticked by slowly, the only sounds in the room behind the scratches of pens and pencils against papers and the occasional rustle when someone would flip their page over. You were amongst the first ones to finish, and when you dropped your test off with Steve at his desk, his hand once again found a way to linger against your own.

Biting your lip, you drew your hand back quicker than usual, scurrying back to your desk and pulling a book out of your bag to read. Not that you actually read it; your eyes stayed steadily on one sentence for the next several minutes. When they finally did lift off of the page, they immediately found your teacher’s eyes, boring into you with that same dark intensity. You shivered as you snapped your gaze back to the page in front of you.

When everyone had finished with their tests, Professor Rogers stood from his desk chair and cleared his throat, drawing all attention to himself.

“Alright, good job guys. Feeling good about how you did?” There were a few grumbles and murmurings heard throughout the room; apparently you weren’t alone in your dislike of essay questions. “I’ll take that as a yes.

“So I thought that I would cut today’s class short this week,” he went on, and all of you perked up at the idea of leaving early. “Before you all head out, though, I wanted to tell you about a new internship opportunity I’m spearheading.

“For the time being, the details of the internship are being kept under wraps, but I can say that it involves travelling to New York City for a week and keeping a field journal while you’re there. What you’ll be doing in New York, unfortunately, can’t be disclosed right now.”

You sat up straighter in your seat, interest piqued. A field journal? It sounded like whatever the internship was involved journalism skills. (Or scientific skills – you were pretty sure scientists kept field journals, at least. You shrugged that idea off pretty quickly, though; why would a history professor be in charge of a scientific internship?)

“If you’re interested in applying for it, you’ll need to write an essay and turn it in to me at the beginning of next week’s class. The essay needs to be about a historic event that has somehow impacted your personal life, and it can be from any era of history, not just the one we’re learning about in class… Oh, and make it over 1,500 words in length. Any questions?”

A few students raised their hands, but you tuned them out as you thought over what you would write about. That is, if you decided to apply for it. You still had no idea what the internship was for, after all. But, you reasoned, if it didn’t turn out to be something you were interested in, you could always say no, right?

“…Alright, guys, you’re free to go. Email me if you have any questions about your test grades once they’re posted,” Steve finally said, and you distractedly started putting your things away, still thinking about what you would write about.

When you finally stood up from your desk, you went to sling your backpack over your shoulder only to feel it hit against something. Or, if the small “oof” that had sounded upon impact was anything to go by, someone.

Your hand flew up to your mouth when you turned and saw none other than your teacher standing there, having just been hit in the stomach by your bag – your very heavy bag, which contained no less than three textbooks inside of it.

“Professor Rogers! Oh my god, I am so sorry-“ you started, but he waved it off with a good-natured grin.

“Don’t worry about it, (Y/N),” he insisted, waving off your concern. “I’ve survived much worse, believe me.”

You smiled a little at that and finished putting your bookbag over your shoulders.

“Still, I’m sorry. I promise I’ve never assaulted any of my professors before.”

“A likely story, Miss (Y/L/N),” he joked. “A likely story.”

The two of you were silent for a beat before he cleared his throat and gestured to you.

“I was just wanting to ask if you were planning on applying for that internship I mentioned.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah, I was, actually. Why do you ask?”

“Well… I know that I said I couldn’t go into what exactly the internship entails, but I did want to mention to you that it involves some journalism. That’s what you’re majoring in, right?”

You nodded, feeling excited about your suspicions being correct.

“It is, yeah! I thought it might have something to do with it when you mentioned field journaling,” you said. “Could I ask what the journaling would be about, or would that give too much away?”

“It would give way too much away,” your teacher confirmed. “But trust me, I think it’ll be up your alley.”

Your mind turned it over, taking in Steve’s raised eyebrows and expectant smile. He seemed even more eager than you were about the internship.

“Well, I’ll make sure to write my essay for it,” you assured him. “Just gotta think of what I’ll be writing about.” Your brain had already pondered writing about the Battle of New York; sure, it hadn’t even been ten years since it happened, but it was a historical event. And it was the main reason you’d wanted to pursue journalism, of course. But you almost died with embarrassment at the idea of writing an essay about something Captain America was involved in and then letting it be read by Captain America himself.

As if reading your thoughts, Steve asked, “Any idea about what your subject will be on?”

“Oh, uh…” you muttered, “I-I had one idea, but I don’t think I’m gonna go with it.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” You sighed, not able to meet his eyes as you confessed, “My immediate thought was the Battle of New York. I know you probably don’t like being reminded of it, but it just… It changed my world, the entire way I view things – it’s what made me want to be a journalist. After the invasion, the world – the universe, really – seemed so much bigger, and it made me want to tell stories about the reality we live in now rather than telling stories that are fiction.”

You trailed off, looking back up at him sheepishly when you realized you were rambling. He was watching you with an intent look on his face, and for a second you were worried that the memory had upset him.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t mean-“

“No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head, “don’t be. I understand; it kinda turned my world upside down, too. I’d thought that waking up from the 40’s had been disorienting enough, but… When I saw aliens on the streets of the city I grew up in, it really made me feel like I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.”

Your lips twitched into a half-smile.

“Was that a Wizard of Oz reference?”

“…It sure was,” Steve grinned. “Old fashioned, I know, but it was one of my favorites growing up.”

“Me too,” you nodded. The man in front of you chuckled at that and you arched an eyebrow questioningly.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing, it’s just…not too often that I have something from my childhood in common with someone else these days,” he answered.

Your heart squeezed with compassion for the soldier in front of you, and without realizing what you were doing, you’d rested your hand on his shoulder. You didn’t know what to say, but you knew what you wanted to; you wanted to tell him that you were sorry for what he went through, that you would never be able to understand what it had been like for him but that you knew it had to have been hard. For a second, you regretted ever feeling uncomfortable around him; hadn’t he proven his entire life that he just wanted to do what was right?

You said none of that, though, and after a second you let your hand slide down to your side.

“I’ll have that essay ready for you next week,” you promised him, and with that you turned and left the room, not even feeling the weight of his stare on your back as you retreated.

For several moments, Steve just stood there, glaring at the spot you’d been standing in and feeling himself fall for you even more. Because even though you hadn’t said any of what you’d been thinking, he was able to read it all in your eyes.

______

You’d missed your study session with Tina that week again; for the next several days, when you weren’t working on homework for your other classes, you were working on your essay. You didn’t know why you felt such a sudden need to do well on it; something in you just couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing Steve. Plus, you’d never before written about your feelings on the Battle of New York and what it had meant to you.

Even though Steve had said the word limit was 1,500, your final essay clocked in over 3,000 words, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to shorten it. You’d dedicated an entire week to making it perfect, and you finally got to the point where you didn’t want to change a single word.

When that fateful Thursday came around, you gave Steve a bright smile as you set your stapled essay onto his desk. Judging from the pile of papers resting on it, you hadn’t been the only one to apply for the internship, but you didn’t feel nervous about your odds; either you got in or you didn’t. You were content knowing you’d done your best.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Steve noticed, and you winked, actually fucking winked, at him, wondering a second later why you’d even done such a thing.

“I’m just happy to be done with that essay,” you confessed, continuing on to your seat. “I spent all week perfecting it.”

Steve grinned, knowing for a fact that you were telling the truth. He’d kept an ever-so-diligent eye on you since your last conversation, watching as you typed away on your laptop ceaselessly, feeling satisfied to know that all your work was for him. His heart soared this morning to see you so happy, and he’d felt butterflies, actual goddamn butterflies, in his chest when you’d winked at him.

Class went by as usual, closing off with a list of chapters to be read and homework to be completed before the next class. In fact, the rest of your day went by uneventfully, and the only thing out of the ordinary came in the form of an email on Friday morning.

You were standing in your kitchen, just wearing your most comfy pair of sweatpants and a tank top, sipping some coffee when you heard your phone ding with a notification. Opening up the email, you felt yourself gulp so fast that your coffee burned your throat as you read it.

Dear (Y/N),

Good morning! I know that this is last minute, but would you be willing to come see me in my office today at 11 am? I would like to discuss your essay with you. I’m in the C Building, third floor, Room 212.

Sincerely,

Steve Rogers

You looked up to the clock on your microwave and cursed when you saw what time it was – 10:34. You set your coffee down so quickly that some of it spilled on your pants as you rushed to your room, throwing on some jeans and a cream cable knit sweater before rushing to gather your phone, keys, and wallet. It usually only took you ten minutes to get to campus from your apartment, but the C Building was basically on the other side of the continent from student parking.

You sped in your tiny, beat up car all the way to your college, power walking to the administrative building while huffing and puffing; this was the most exercise you’d gotten in a while, what with your busy schedule.

After an agonizingly slow elevator ride, you reached the third floor and glanced at your phone as you passed by several offices – it was 10:58. You felt your lips spread into a grin.

When you finally reached room 212, you hesitantly rose your fist to knock on its door, but before you could make contact it was opened from the inside. Steve looked down at you with a smile as you jumped.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to surprise you,” he said sheepishly. “I heard you walking up the hall.”

“…Super hearing?” you guessed, and he nodded bashfully.

He gestured for you to follow him into the room, your nose immediately flooded with the scent of something delicious. Your eyes fell on two bags from your favorite café on campus, and you could distinctly make out the smell of their turkey bacon wafting up from within.

“I hope you don’t mind that I got some food for us,” he said, settling into the cushy office chair placed on the side of the desk opposite to you. “I know you haven’t eaten yet, and all I’ve had was coffee-“

“How?” you interrupted him, feeling that old coil of unease wrap itself around you. “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet, that is?”

Steve’s lips parted and his eyes widened for a split second after you’d asked, but he quickly schooled his features back into something more neutral.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled. “I shouldn’t have said that I knew you hadn’t eaten; it was just a guess. I’m assuming I was right?”

You warily nodded, slowly walking over to the chair he had situated in front of his desk. The door behind you was still cracked open, something that helped comfort you enough to reach into the nearest bag and pull out a to-go box.

“I got you some turkey bacon and a cheese biscuit,” he said as you opened the package up. “And there’s some blueberry muffins in the other bag if you’d like any.”

Your hands trembled as you took a bite of your bacon; it was the exact same order you usually got for breakfast.

You were so focused on swallowing your bite of food that you jolted when you heard the man in front of you clear his throat. Your head popped up to see him watching you with an expectant face, tapping his fingertips on the desk beneath him.

“U-um…” you stuttered, not sure of what he was expecting you to do or say.

“It probably shouldn’t bother me, but… Back in my day, we thanked people when they got us something,” Steve shrugged, trying to pass off his words as nonchalant. You could see the way his fists were clenched, though, and it made your heartbeat quicken.

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” you exclaimed. “I, um… Thank you, Steve. For breakfast.”

Your cheeks were on fire, and you felt your palms getting sweaty as you set down your piece of bacon; maybe you weren’t so hungry after all.

Steve, though, just smiled gently and dug into the matching box of food he had placed before himself.

“It’s ok, doll,” he hummed. “Bad manners are just a pet peeve of mine. Go ahead and eat.”

The food felt like cardboard against your teeth as you hesitantly obeyed, still uncomfortable from how Steve had just spoken to you. You began to squirm in your chair as the minutes ticked on, the only sounds in his office coming from your quiet eating. Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you cleared your throat and spoke so quietly that Steve probably wouldn’t have been able to hear you if not for his advanced hearing.

“So, um… In your email you mentioned my essay?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “Did you want to talk with me about it today?”

He smiled and set down the muffin he’d been working on, leaning his elbows against his desk and looking at you with a gleam in his eyes.

“That’s right, (Y/N),” he answered, his face so bright and excited that it was almost easy to forget how harsh his tone had been just a minute ago. “I wanted you to be the first to know that you got the internship.”

You blinked a few times, feeling surprised despite how hard you’d worked on your essay.

“Really?” you asked, slowly starting to smile again. “I did?”

“Of course,” Steve insisted. “Your essay was the best out of the bunch; it’s obvious that you want to be a writer.”

“Thank you so much, sir,” you said, hurrying to say so after what had happened the last time you hadn’t been grateful for his kindness. “That…means a lot.”

“Well, it’s true,” he assured you. “And now you get to know what the internship actually is; I know you were curious about it yesterday.”

You nodded eagerly, watching as he leaned back in his chair.

“A few months ago, I decided that I wanted to write an autobiography,” he began, thumbs twiddling in his lap. “I’ve never been much of a writer, but I figured that it would be nice to try and put my story down on paper. And I thought that it would be a great idea to go back to Brooklyn, where I grew up, and write down what’s changed about it and what’s the same as a sort of opening for the first chapter of my book.

“That’s where you come in,” he added, pointing to you before setting his hands on his desk. “I wanted to go back to Brooklyn with someone who grew up in this century, someone who could help me take notes on that part of the city and who I could bounce ideas off of. After all, most of my readers would be people who have no clue about what the 40’s were like. I’d need someone to hear my ideas and tell me if they’re relevant and if they’d appeal to folks these days.”

Your head was already turning with ideas on how he could link his past to his present in the beginning of his novel; the writer in you was salivating that the idea of this project, and you opened your mouth to tell Steve that you’d take the position.

But then you hesitated, slowly closing your mouth again as you looked at the man seated across from you. You remembered every time he’d made you uncomfortable, every doubt you’d had about him, every time he’d made you squirm under his penetrative gaze. Would you be able to work with him one on one without feeling so nervous around him?

“I’m…flattered that you think I’m a good fit for the job,” you started out, “And this is such an amazing opportunity, but… Um, would we the alone in Brooklyn or would there be other people with us?”

Steve’s brows furrowed; clearly, he hadn’t expected that question.

“Why would it matter?” he asked, voice hard as steel.

“Well, I just… I wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong i-idea, you know?” you stammered. “I wouldn’t want them to think-“

“No one would know,” he interrupted. “For obvious reasons, this project is being kept strictly confidential. You would have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before we left.”

Your doubt must have read on your face, because Steve’s face softened, and he slowly stood up, walking around to stand in front of your chair.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said softly. “You know you don’t have to worry about me, right? I understand that you can be…shy, but think of this as a week off! I’ve already talked to the school board, and your absences with your other classes won’t be counted against you. We’ll go to the city, take our notes, maybe even have a little fun.

“Whatya say?”

You sighed and let your head droop, looking down to your clenched hands as they rested in your lap. You liked his words; they were kind and considerate, but they didn’t reach his eyes. No, they were dark, a stormy gray-ish blue as he watched you intently.

“I… I’m still not sure,” you murmured weakly. “Could I have some time to-“

“It’s a paid internship,” Steve interrupted you, his voice just barely edging to desperate. “And I would let you write the Forward to my novel. Think about it, (Y/N) – your name on the cover of ‘Captain America’s’,” he rolled his eyes at the name, “autobiography. You’ll be able to have any job you want when you graduate. A guaranteed successful start to your career.”

You paused at that, eyes widening at the thought; he had a point. You’d be a famous writer even before the beginning of your writing career. And your bank account was laughable at the moment; you only had a part-time job at the college library, and it definitely didn’t pay much.

Your head tilted up and your eyes met Steve’s, and he was wearing a smile that spoke volumes; he knew what you were going to say even before you said it.

“I’ll do it.”

_______

Steve let out a soft grunt as he came, his hand finally stilling on his cock before he tucked it back into his pants. You’d left his office hours ago, but his mind hadn’t stopped thinking of you since you’d said those three little words. He was coming close to the end of his plan; his reward was so close now. He could practically taste it – taste you.

He wasn’t happy that he’d had to bribe you, of course. He hated the idea that you were just saying yes because of the money and success he could offer you. But if that’s what it took to make you his, then he would do it. It was worth it for your future children, for your future life.

Letting out a soft sigh, he stood up, putting in his airpods and selecting his favorite app on his phone. With a press of a button, he could hear the sound of your soft humming as you turned the pages of your textbook. The camera in your living room showed you curled up on your couch, studying like the good little student you were. Soon you wouldn’t have to work so hard; Steve would give you everything you could ever want or need – a family, a house, a ring on your finger… He smiled at the thought.

He shoved his phone into his back pocket, keeping his airpods in so he could listen to the sound of your humming as background noise. He grabbed his keys and headed out, tucking his laptop under his arm as he started walking out of the building. The two of you would leave for New York in a week, and he had so many preparations to make. His back-up plan still needed to be put in order, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it with you.

You were different from all the others – sweet, obedient, smart… Whatever ended up happening, Steve knew that you would see things his way eventually. The two of you were meant to be, after all.

#precodechallenge #steve rogers #captain america imagine #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #professor!steve #professor!steve rogers #non-con #stalking #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine

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rpbetter · 3 years ago

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what's the nicest possible way to tell a close friend their roleplay blogs suck and if they want followers and interaction like they keep complaining about they have to actually put effort into it instead of just making blog after blog and slapping a character on it like that's they need to do. I've tried to suggest this to her before by comparing other blogs that play her muse but she just feels inadequate instead of inspired to emulate them which I understand but it's very frustrating when I suggest a million ways to make her blog better and she brushes them all off for one reason or another and I don't want to say anything because she's like a sister to me. sigh.

Unfortunately, the short answer to this is that there really isn't any way you can make her see this unless she's ready to see it.

But, I don't like giving those sorts of answers, they feel hopeless and shitty, so, let's try this...

Understanding what the problem with your friend and her connecting with this information is, is important. It might help in talking to her about the issue.

What I find in these instances, and a lot of similar ones, is that the mun is unhappy about the results but quite happy with the process. She's enjoying some part of this, it's just not the lack of interaction, obviously. It's the very things she's doing to turn people off of her muses.

I think a lot of people get kind of addicted to new muses. I mean, the entire process of having a new muse:

interest to outright fixation, no matter how short-lived, in a new, inspiring muse

who is almost certainly in a new fandom, and probably, one that is very busy and popular at the moment

"someone stop me" phase, even though they've already decided

picking the perfect URL, creating the new blog, making the graphics and batches of icons

reblogging All The Content about the new muse, at least, the visual content and maybe, a couple of "oof, right in the feels" style short meta posts

plugging the new muse on the old blogs, through friends, etc.

mass follows

new mutuals! Shiny new meme asks in the inbox! New threads!

It's about the newness, the excitement, and the irrationally promising feeling that damn it, this time, the blog and muse is going to be successful, popular even, beloved, the actual favorite iteration of the character in the RPC. Like anything exciting, it's addicting for people. And like anything addicting, it can take hitting rock bottom and going several more feet down, a few times, before they're over it and want to change.

Which is, of course, where you come in with your as-yet failed RP interventions.

What makes what you're trying to do here very difficult is that there isn't a total bottoming out she's going to reach. There will always be something new and exciting coming out with a new and exciting muse that'll fix the problem, in her mind. There will always be the option and availability to create another blog, slap another muse on it, rinse and repeat. With shampoo and conditioner that never runs out.

You definitely had the right idea by trying to get her to contrast between why what she is doing isn't working the way she wants and why what someone else is doing is working out that way. It's just, as you found out, often not the best idea, no matter how well-intentioned it is. With her blogs constantly failing for reasons she refuses to believe, it's incredibly likely she's already done some comparison in all the wrong ways, ultimately going back and forth between blaming the other iterations, finding nothing but errors in the way they write the character and set up their blogs, and feeling depressed that she's not good enough, but they are.

So, you might have unintentionally inflamed all of this! She could be in a place where she's even more likely to believe that what she's doing is great as a defense mechanism for being hard on herself.

I'd also like to say that I'm aware the "right" advice here is, "there's nothing you can do, you'll just make her feel bad, people have a right to RP however they want." But, you're also her friend, and you have to be around the complaining and upset when this just keeps happening.

Furthermore, when we have very close friends like this, we automatically keep trying to fill in the gaps for them at cost to ourselves - every time they make another blog/muse, we get roped into writing things we know are just going to be dropped, making them things we know are going to left on a deserted blog, and so on. Eventually, it makes you feel bad about yourself because your efforts aren't good enough, either. It can really ruin the hobby for you, sucking away enjoyment and creativity you could be spending elsewhere.

I don't think you're wrong in trying to help both her and yourself.

Keep being honest with her. When she complains, be honest about why this is happening. And you can, indeed, be kind and honest!

Let's say that she says something about how she wrote all these opens and no one is going for them.

You could say something like, "that sucks. I liked this one, it's the one that feels and sounds like the character to me. What were you doing when you wrote that? You should rewrite the others to be a little more like that, I think people are looking for more of the character like we saw them in the series."

You're acknowledging that she's right, it does suck, it's a shitty feeling no matter how at fault for it she is. While pointing out something she did good (and, okay, maybe she didn't, maybe they all categorically sucked lol but find one that was even a tiny bit better/that has elements you can use to both boost her confidence and show her what is right, not just wrong). Then, giving her an idea - whatever she was thinking, watching, listening to at that time, she tapped into something more like the actual character, and she could do it again. And telling her what the problem is, at least with this, that people don't want a cardboard cutout muse, they want the one they like from the fandom book/show/movie.

No need to actually compare with another active mun and muse, or tell her that it's because what she's doing is terribly and driving you nuts. Even if both are true.

If she's the one that compares herself to another blog this time, seize the opportunity!

"Well, people like that the muse is developed and like the character they know. When you interact with another canon, don't you want them to be like the character you liked? You liked -current muse- for a reason. When I've felt like that, I reminded myself of why I was drawn to the character and worked harder on writing them accurately and getting their voice down. I think this other blog has done that and you haven't yet."

It's a little harsher, but she may very well only be looking for validation from you that this other blog actually sucks and she's doing great. A lot of complaints on tumblr are that - seeking validation, not help. The entire culture of that shit is not at all helpful. You don't want to try to sort of shock her out of it by being too harsh, but you do want to make it clear that you're not going to just give ass pats and tell her what she wants to hear.

You're telling her why this other blog is more successful, that the muse comes off as the character and is enjoyable to write with. Because the mun put in the effort to make them both accurate to the character and a muse that's fun/interesting/engaging to write with in RP.*

*Not all characters transfer over well to RP, either, and this might also be some of her problem. For whatever reason, some people are deeply drawn to the worst possible choices for them. They will find the least applicable character in a whole series, one with a billion characters that spans decades of material, plenty of viable options all around, but no, it's got to be this one. The one that's impossible for them to pull off, boring or disliked by the fandom, is incredibly difficult to interact with (think manic pixie bullshit, villains that are extreme loners, incredibly quiet and reserved characters, or those who are only ever seen in their canon to be bantering with friends and enemies - people they have established relationships with, unlike someone else's muse, even if that muse is a canonical friend or enemy), or is an active turn off in RP, like an outrageously overpowered character whose entire existence is based on being OP as fuck. That's going to be what they go for. Every. Damn. Time.

If you notice she's doing this, she could be compensating without even realizing it by turning the string of muses into identical and empty clichés she thinks people want to interact with, but that she can still handle writing. And unfortunately, your job is even harder, OP, because everyone has a character type...and your bestie's is Fucking Impossible to RP for 90% of the RPC Population Type lmao I'm...I'm so sorry.

Maybe if this is the case, you can get her to try out a different character that has some of the traits you've noticed she seems to always be drawn to, but without the complications. Work smarter, not harder, though! Propose this as you desperately wanting your muse to interact with x. Some people react very badly to being told "you'd write a great -muse name," others are flattered by it. If you don't know for certain that she'd be flattered, or at least not offended, that she doesn't hate this character or anything, do not say this. Just tell her that you love this character, you think she could handle them as a NPC in a thread, could she please try?

And make that the single most interesting thread in the history of threads. Specifically, for her. Give her tons of engagement with this NPC of the sort she tends to want the most. It might stick and reset some of her perspective on the types of characters she keeps choosing.

You're reminding her that she's a RPer, too, which sounds like a crazy thing to have to remind a RPer, but we do weirdly lose track of this. We get very invested in what we're putting out more than what we've successfully been given, especially when we're not being given much of what we want. So, you're prodding her to recall that there are two parts of this equation, she's been on the side of it - she's wanted to interact specifically with a canon muse because she loved the character/ship with hers/whatever, and has, as we all have, experienced both the disappointment of running through a ton of them who just are not that character and also finding the version that very much is.

This helps to put other people back into perspective in a way that isn't just "interactions." (Read as "desired attention." Which isn't a slam, it's true. It's also not a problem, we all are here to interact, we all enjoy having devoted mutuals and such. It's only a problem when we stop seeing them as anything other than a means to an end for ourselves.) She might be able to relate to them, thus, why they don't like her muses, if she can put herself back into their shoes.

You stick with that and transition it into why she picked the current muse. It's the same deal, there was something about the muse that sparked interest, creativity, etc. What was it? Something that isn't there, or there enough, in her writing. In all the excitement of muse-creation, she's probably let whatever it was slide right out the door. If you can get her to recall that feeling of interest and identify for herself what all triggered it, she might be able to stick with it.

And you've encouraged her again to give people what they want if she wants interactions by developing her muses. You've also done so, if it all applicable and true, by using yourself here, making it feel like not just a common problem, but one experienced and overcome by someone she cares about and trusts.

She might have an issue with needing a lot of high-interest, high-reward scenarios, too.

This is a high-effort, minimum reward situation for her. A lot of us in the RPC have shit like ADHD that can really make this difficult once we're experiencing it in this way, but even those who don't absolutely fall into it as well. So, you'll need ways to make it fun, but...I think if you can sort of kindly trick her into experiencing the effort as its own reward, it'd go a long, long way.

I can't really say what I do, having this problem with high-effort, minimal reward because I don't tend to experience that in RP. The writing is the reward for me, as much as I lose it utterly with happiness every time a writing partner is loving what I've given them. My reward system is set up around the writing and exploring characters. Hers seems to be set up around the reaction to it and amount of engagement with it. You need to try to use the latter to give her some of the former.

If she likes Halloween or Christmas, Fall or Winter, this could be your way into doing it!

Get her hyped about a seasonal prompt list you're doing. This does, yeah, mean you will have to do it, too lol but in the end, any time you aren't able to produce something daily like these lists usually are set up for, you're showing her that it isn't a job she's got to fulfill - the rules are only as strict as she wants to make them for herself. And if you keep yours short and fun, she'll feel like it's perfectly fine and good to do it this way as well. That it doesn't need to be a damn masterpiece or anything, just fun, something different to show off her muse.

While what she's actually doing, in addition to that, is getting in touch with and developing her muse. Importantly, when we write in a way that is just for ourselves like this, we tend to kind of...bond, for lack of a less weird sounding way of putting it, with a muse. It makes them stick with us longer, raising their importance and easier availability to us.

Let her know you're doing this, pick one out you genuinely like, and don't expect her to be down with it immediately. It's work with no foreseeable reward. Except, it's very hard to listen to our friends be excited, proud of themselves, enjoying themselves without wanting to join in. It'll be especially helpful, though, if you think people you interact with will like the posts and comment on them, or even try to turn them into threads if you include their muses (with their consent, of course, and no pressure). If she sees that, it might make it even more interesting to her. You might also have to pose this as her helping you out, that you don't think you'll get more than two done if she isn't doing it as well, as a sort of a challenge she can hold you to.

Whatever you think might work best for engaging her, you know her well, you can do it!

Be there to help her out with ideas if she goes for it. Throw out some easy, fun suggestions you think she might like, that even give her some opportunity to write something with her muse that she doesn't get a chance to. Pull from the muse's canon, is there something in their canon that goes with the prompt word "snow," for instance? Is it something she enjoyed about the canon story? Suggest it. Thinking about both the muse and your friend, is there something else that came to mind about that prompt you could suggest? Do it!

Again, whatever she's most into, it's an angle. Humor? Her serious muse is forced into a ridiculous, funny situation that involves the snow. Angst? A sad memory associated with the snow. Shipping? A romantic, fluffy scene (or steamy one). And so on.

Be there to express interest and encouragement while she's doing it. Don't do things that are going to come off as pressuring or helicopter moming her, of course! Like, asking how much she's gotten done, did she start working on it yet? That's a bad idea, unless she enjoys that sort of thing. Instead, tell her how much you can't wait to see this, ask about how it's going, tell her about yours to encourage her to talk about it.

And be there to be her audience when she posts it. This really seems to be her highest reward, so give it to her. Like the post, comment on the post, tell her in messages. Not individually, all of those things. If you can find a way to that doesn't mess up what you've got going on with your blog, mutuals, other friends, etc., mention it on your blog.

At this point, people might be both aware of her RP habits and wary of engaging with her, but someone might bite if you're enthused and go like the post. If it's applicable, make some jokes about it on the dash, turn it into a moment of inside joke-like crack for people to see. Mention that she wrote this and you loved it, link it or outright reblog her post. Hell, mention that you and her are doing such and such prompts for whatever holiday or season before the fact, that way, it doesn't come out of nowhere to your mutuals, either. Again, if applicable, you can ask to turn it into a thread.

The point, at this juncture, isn't to attract people to her blog and posts, it's to demonstrate to her that this is fun and rewarding. If you can get people to go like the posts, great, but you can only count on yourself to do it at first.

Most people enjoy those sorts of prompts on their dash from mutuals, though. You're always going to have some who feel like it's annoying because it wasn't strictly a RP reply, but whatever, they're not the majority in most fandoms anymore, thankfully. Point is, it's literally showing her mutuals that she's capable of thinking as her muse and working on her muse. It's showing off good things and making her muse more interesting and uniquely hers in a good way. And it's totally possible that she's going to organically generate likes, people wanting to use this as a plot with her for RP, and mutuals who are increasingly following along with every post made.

The hope is that she experiences the beginnings of more interest in the muse than she does making muses, gain some confidence in doing this with the enjoyment of it, and stick with a muse longer than five seconds so that she can actually end up with the interactions she wants.

There are definitely other ways of doing this, the prompt thing just came to mind because it's major prompt season. You've got a prompt list floating around for literally every popular point of interest right now, from whump to extreme fluff to horror to humor. And it's going to keep going until January. It's also something that can be as short as a paragraph or as long as several thousand words, and that a hell of a lot of people don't do all of. So, it's easy, so long as she's got a reason to find it interesting and stay on course with it even a little bit.

You could also try getting her into doing something like moodboards for her muse but with little additions of writing that go along with them. Nothing major, just things like a quote from her muse or a sentence from a starter, thread, whatever.

So long as you can get her to start refocusing on RP being enjoyable from the inside and not just the outside, it's valid as hell to try it! She seems to be experiencing RP as instant gratification and basing that gratification on things she can't control, like popularity.

Right now, even giving her the sober truth that one can write the best version of a canon muse there is to be found, be someone enjoyable and interesting in OOC interactions, and be an amazing writer without that being enough to garner popularity, or even the plots that are wanted. That being a very popular RPer and having more interactions than you know what to do with (honestly sucks ass) isn't a set of absolute values, but rather, variables that are always in flux and often, totally mysterious. It's usually a mixture of total luck, visual appeal, and both mun being on point with what people want to see right this second and muse being the mixture of fanon that is desirable, also, right at this exact second. It is seriously not within anyone's control, no matter how much effort, quality, or even outright bullshit they have to put out there.

If she's ever going to stick to a muse and not find herself envious, upset, and bored it's absolutely got to come from herself. She's got to be popular with herself, enjoying herself regardless of what others are seemingly achieving or want to give her. It's not going to be recognized no matter how harsh or sweet you are about the problem, unless she's capable of really looking at those problems as problems, and I don't think she's going to get to that point through negatively bottoming out. She might get there through the opposite, though!

It's...just going to take a lot of effort and patience from you, with no expectation of reward yourself.

Because it's still likely as hell it's just not going to happen. And while it seems like you are the kind of friend who would find the effort worth it because you care and are invested in her, please know that there's no shame in merely contemplating this and noping right out.

You've got a life and are trying to enjoy the hobby as well! And if it seems like something that could sour your friendship? It's not worth it. You're better off just accepting that she'll inevitably tire of doing this and move on to another hobby, maybe decide to do fandom blogs or something instead that you can support her in.

It's definitely an unenviable and frustrating position you're in. All you can really do is try not to let this negatively impact the friendship, to keep refraining from just outright telling her things she'd find hurtful, and try your best to show her that it's rewarding to develop the muse and stick with it, not a task. That there are improvements she can make to her blog, and that it isn't a negative reflection on her that they can be made. You can try all the compassionate trickery in the world to lead her there, but it's ultimately up to her whether she brushes this off as well, don't let it hurt your feelings or exasperate you too much!

Also, it's totally possible that even if you met through RP and/or it has been a big part of the friendship, you might have grown in different directions in the hobby.

Growing within the hobby is inherent to any hobby you stick to for long enough, especially if you started out in it young. Some people seamlessly just keep growing to things that make them happy, others experience a lot of growing pains along the way as they're maybe ready for change, but only in select areas they have to discover for themselves. Still others grow in a way that doesn't make them very happy, but they're both not ready (or willing) to approach why and what they can do, and also still too attached to the good times they had to reassess whether it's still something they want to do, or if it's something better moved away from into something else.

That's always very difficult as a friend. Difficult in watching your friends not go the same directions as you anymore, even in something as comparatively silly as a hobby, in seeing them not enjoying themselves, and in the possibility that it could signal the end of enjoying the hobby with them. It's sad and frustrating, and can feel lonely, but if you're close enough friends, you've got so many other things to still be good friends over, so keep that in mind!

She might need to keep doing this with her blog and muse situation until she comes not to the realization that she needs to change how she's RPing to get what she wants, but rather, that she wants to stop RPing. That could be the burnout that happens here eventually, but again, not only can you still be great friends, if it makes her happier, it's good.

#answered #anonymous #rp problems #rp advice

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