#trying something new w the backdrop/outline to see how i like it

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

"STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY KID!"

Twin blades alight with brilliant teal and blue magic, the guardian stood between the dragon and his enemies. He bared his teeth, looking for all the world like a dragon himself. "Take one step closer, and you're all fucking dead, got it?" Tucker snarled. "I'm not letting you anywhere near him!"

Living up to the name of a guardian

[patchwork-panda]

“I won’t tell a soul” (BSD Nakahara Chuuya x Reader #3. Complete!)

“Title: “I won’t tell anybody”/“誰にも言わない”  Genre: Romance Rating: PG-13 for alcohol usage and mild violence/language and a kiss scene. /////>w<;; Reader-insert is written as femme and 20+ Plot: You meet Chuuya at a wine bar and over time, you become close. Your regular meetings become something you both enjoy so when Chuuya stops visiting for several weeks, you begin to worry... When you meet again, you learn the truth... But do you care? Mini Fic is written in 2nd person. title is reference to new Utada Hikaru single                 

CW: street harassment, physical violence

AKA Chuuya saves reader and you get a kiss/get together :3

AO3 link for full fic: HERE

Part 1 Here Part 2 Here                                        

It’s well past last call when you leave. 

You ended up staying until past closing and, perhaps out of a feeling of guilt, the mustachioed bartender decided not to kick you out.

Because his “feeling” had been wrong.

Chuuya hadn’t come.

The bartender had offered to call you a cab but you adamantly refused. You wanted a nice long walk in the cool night air, which would hopefully clear your senses a little. You don’t want to go to bed tonight thinking about Chuuya or you might just wake up crying.

Because this was the last night.

No more.

You needed to move on.

As you leave the bar, you see a group of men, a bunch of hoodlums by the look of it, gathered near the alleyway to your far right. One or two of them give you an appraising look (you wish your skirt were longer but you make no move to tug it down) and to your disgust, another whispers something into the ear of yet another of their companions, who suddenly leers at you.

Ugh.

You keep your eyes trained on the road ahead of you as you walk past them, hoping to get away with nothing more than a wolf whistle but alas, it is not to be. One of them, a man with a scar over his eye, calls out to you.

“Hey, hey you! Lady!”

You roll your eyes and ignore him. You hated running into creeps like this in the daytime as it was. Nighttime is so much worse.

Not to be deterred, he runs after you and stops and slows once he’s caught up.

“Haven’t we seen you before?” he asks, looking you up and down. You suddenly regret wearing heels. You don’t answer but he acts as if you have.

“Yeah, I remember you. You’re here at that bar every Friday, aren’t you? Always sitting there at the counter with that short fellow, the one with the fancy hat and the jacket draped over his shoulders. Chuuya-san, you called him, right?”

You keep walking and scowl when Chuuya’s name crosses his lips. Scum like this shouldn’t have the right to talk about Chuuya like that, much less exist in the same world as him. And how dare this man call Chuuya short when he wasn’t more than a few centimeters taller than either of you.

“Hey, Missy.”

He grabs your shoulder. His tone is suddenly menacing.

“I’m talking to you here.”

“Let go of me!” you snap, tearing your shoulder away.

You turn to walk in the opposite direction but his companions are blocking the way back. In fact, they’re blocking every possible escape route you have. You spin around in a circle, only to come face to face with the man who insists on speaking with you. He smiles and you curse.

“Shit...”

He raises his scarred eyebrow. He looks amused.

“There’s no need for language like that, Missy,” he says, his tone every bit as patronizing as it is threatening. “We just want to talk to you. You see, we’re looking for ‘Chuuya-san.’ Been looking for him, in fact, for a long, long time now and we’re hoping that you can maybe help us find him. You see, we owe him a favor...”

“Well, you’re talking to the wrong person,” you spit acidly, “I haven’t seen him for several months now and even if I wanted to help you find him--which I don’t--”

You voice cracks and you swallow heavily. You hate that you’ve become so upset but that’s what the mere mention of Chuuya’s name did to you tonight. You were really hoping the bartender was right and you were absolutely crushed when he wasn’t.

“I don’t even have his phone number.”

You throw your hands up into the air, as if to indicate that you’d given up. 

“So why don’t you just let me go home and we’ll forget that this whole conversation ever happened?”

The man looks at you. Stunned. Then he starts laughing.

As one, his crew starts laughing at you as well and you feel your cheeks flush in sudden rage and embarrassment.

“Look at that, she just ordered me around, didn’t she?” the man chortles, turning to his companions as if he’d just told a very funny joke. “A real spitfire, aren’t you? And a looker to boot! No wonder he spends so much time with you.”

He snaps his fingers and at once, two of his men come forward and seize you by the arms. You try to fight them off but their arms are twice as thick as yours and you’re still a little tipsy from the wine.

“Why don’t you come with us, little Missy? We’d like to have a chat with you.”

“Hey!” you snap, “Get your hands off me!”

“See, your friend, Chuuya-san,” the man says, a note of humor sneaking into his voice as he copies the way you say Chuuya’s name. “He and that pesky Port Mafia he works for... have been making things difficult for us smaller gangs in Yokohama.”

His eyes narrow.

“Unnecessarily so.”

They start dragging you away. Your efforts to fight back seem meaningless. Panic rises in your throat. You should’ve taken the bartender’s offer of hailing a cab.

“Hey! Hey!!”

You struggle and fight harder but it’s no use.

“And our boss gets the feeling they’re going to be a lot more willing to negotiate with us,” the man continues, following you as you’re pulled backwards by the arms. “If we have a proper bargaining chip.”

His lip curls into that disgusting leer.

“Especially that midget. Can’t wait to see his face after he sees you missing a few fingers.”

You stiffen. Your eyes narrow.

“You asshole...” you growl.

You shoot him a piercing glare.

How dare he talk about Chuuya--your Chuuya--like that. 

“Keep Chuuya’s name out of your fucking mouth,” you spit, “you piece of shit--”

He silences you with a slap across the face and you stumble. The men behind you keep holding you up. Your cheek stings.

“Stupid bitch.”

He laughs and the men laugh with him.

“We’ll see how brave you are after we cut you up.”

As you continue to struggle, they drag you into the alley.

Tears of helpless rage fill your eyes. This was stupid. You were stupid. You should’ve just stayed away like your coworker said.

Now these assholes were going to take you away, do who-knew-what to you, and because of your own foolishness, you would never get to see Chuuya again.

You bite your lip.

Chuuya...

You’re trying not to cry.

Help me...

Just then, a harsh voice cuts through the night. It’s quiet but it rings with authority.

And barely suppressed rage.

“Let go of her.”

You stop struggling immediately. You’d know that voice anywhere.

As one, you and the men gripping you by the arms turn to look down the alleyway, where you see a lone figure standing there at the very end of the street. He is a black shape outlined against the backdrop of the downtown streets, his dark clothes bathed in the harsh blue and red glow of signs made of neon lights. His face is in shadow, but...

The lone figure wears a fancy black hat and a jacket draped over both shoulders.

Chuuya.

“Chuuya-san...!”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You want to say more. You want to call out to him, loud enough for him to actually hear but for some reason you cannot. Something’s wrong with him tonight. His very presence is unnerving and without knowing why, you begin to tremble.

“Well, look who’s here,” the man with the scar crows.

He takes a knife out of his pocket.

“Nakahara Chuuya. We’ve been looking for you. Come with us. Our boss needs to have a little talk with you. And if you don’t...”

He holds the knife at your throat. You hold your breath as it presses against your flesh.

“The Missy here gets it.”

Chuuya steps forward and out of the shadows and at once, you know why you’re suddenly afraid. You feel the men holding your arms falter.

There’s an odd red glow around Chuuya, around his entire outline. As he steps forward, his long black jacket begins to lift off his shoulders in an unseen wind, billowing around him like a cape. You think you hear something like a dull roar echoing throughout the alleyway and when Chuuya looks up, his gaze is fierce. His eyes burn like twin blue flames in the night.

This isn’t the same Chuuya who’d flirted with you at the bar.

This man is something else.

He continues towards you.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Chuuya snarls, his teeth bared.

When his foot hits the pavement, it cracks underfoot. Rubble rises into the air all around him, glowing red like the aura around Chuuya’s body.

“Get.”

Another step forward. The pavement breaks yet again. It’s as if Chuuya’s weight has increased threefold when he took that second step towards you.

“Your.”

The roaring sound grows louder. More rubble rises into the air.

“Filthy.”

Chuuya’s footsteps grow heavier. He’s now leaving craters in his wake. You don’t understand how it’s happening but the rubble is now orbiting around his body like the rings of a planet.

“Hands.”

The men loosen their hold on you but they haven’t let go. Chuuya sees this and his eyes seem to glow more fiercely in the dark. He looks utterly terrifying.

“Off.”

Chuuya grabs a handful of the rubble around him and draws his hand back. He steps into a pool of dim red light and his body looks like it’s bathed in blood.

“My woman.”

He takes out a stone, flips it into the air like a coin and flicks it with his thumb.

You don’t even see it move.

There’s just a brief whistling sound and a crack.

The arm of the scarred man--the arm holding a knife to your throat--explodes in a shower of blood. Some of it splatters the front of your dress. You’re so shocked, you don’t even scream.

The man next to you, however, does.

He lets out a howl of pain, clutching his ruined arm and dropping to the his knees, his knife clattering uselessly to the ground in front of you. He’s crying and screaming about his arm, blood gushing from the stump of his elbow and into the street. The puddle inches towards your shoes.

The men holding you drop your arms and tear off into the night--the entire crew goes running back towards the street, leaving you in the middle of the alleyway between them and Chuuya.

Chuuya’s bright blue eyes narrow and he repeats his earlier movement, flicking several more stones towards the men in the alleyway with deadly precision. One by one, the men drop to the ground, their screams cut short. The last one is quicker on his feet than his companions and is just about to round the corner when Chuuya crouches down and leaps into the air.

You watch in awe, turning to follow his movements as he soars over you, gracefully arcing through the sky, his body suddenly as light as a feather. The stones follow him, continuing to orbit around him in a ring like a miniature belt of asteroids. With one flick of his wrist, several rocket towards the man who’s almost made it into the street. You turn your face away as you hear the dull, wet squelching of the stones tearing through his body, splattering his organs on the nearby buildings and sidewalk.

The man next to you is still crying and clutching his arm. He rushes past you, desperate to escape.

You can’t see Chuuya, but you know where he is.

You start towards his location but within moments, he’s in the sky again. You whirl around to see him several paces behind you, standing before the man whose arm he destroyed.

He grabs the man by the throat and slams him against the wall. Cracks appear in the drywall behind his body. Miraculously, he doesn’t pass out.

“You tell your boss,” Chuuya hisses, his tone low and menacing, “that if you try this shit again, I’ll send what’s left of his cronies back to him in a fucking bento box.”

He slams the man against the wall again.

“If you’ve got business with me or with the Port Mafia, then it stays with us. You got that?”

The man nods, tears streaming down his face.

Chuuya lets go of him at last and he crumples to the ground in a heap.

Scowling, Chuuya turns to you at last, the glow in his blue eyes suddenly fading as the red-tinted aura around him dissipates. Behind him, the scarred man scrambles to his feet and scampers off into the night.

“Chuuya--” you start but he is in no mood to let you finish.

“You,” Chuuya growls, stalking forward. “What were you doing out here so late at night? Are you an idiot? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

You’re stunned. After all this time, he’s angry?

“I came looking for you,” you protest, equally bewildered and hurt by the sheer anger in his voice. “I haven’t seen you in so long and--and you never gave me a single way to find you--Chuuya, I--”

“Why would you do that?!” he roars, slamming his fist against the wall.

No crater appears, but the drywall cracks.

Chuuya grits his teeth. He seems to have difficulty looking at you. He drops his gaze and the brim of his hat falls over his eyes, obscuring his face. Bits of drywall crumble down around his gloved hand. His fist is shaking.

“Why would you try to find me?” he asks, his voice hushed.

He’s asking you this? Why is he asking you this?

“Because...”

Your hands clench into fists when Chuuya does not not look up.

Fuck.

You bite your lip, hard, so that you don’t cry.

After all this time, he won’t even look at you? After everything you’ve been through? After all this??

“You really don’t get it?” you ask quietly, holding back those hot, bitter tears.

Chuuya doesn’t answer. Still doesn’t look up.

Why won’t he look at you?

It makes you angry. Angrier than you’ve been in years. You want to scream.

“You want to know why I came looking for you?” you ask bitterly.

Chuuya inclines his head slightly, which you take to be a nod. Pissed, you take a step towards him.

“It’s because I missed you, you fucking dumbass!”

Chuuya twitches violently.

He looks up, a mixture of shock and wonder clearly visible in the depths of his deep blue eyes. He looks mesmerized by you.

He’s not moving so you take another step towards him, suddenly feeling like you’re approaching a skittish alley cat. You hold out your hands when you speak.

“Don’t you understand, Chuuya-san? I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you so bad.”

You don’t care that he just maimed or even killed several people in front of you, that he has power beyond imagining and could turn his Gift on you if he so wished. He killed those men to save you.

To you, he was still Chuuya-san.

He was your Chuuya.

“I came looking for you... because you never even said goodbye. I didn’t have your phone number, or address. I don’t even know where you work or what your last name is. Chuuya, I had no way of contacting you.”

“That was the whole point,” Chuuya interrupts but you talk over him.

“So when I heard you might be here tonight,” you say, loud enough that he has to stop talking. “I had to come. I had to, you understand?”

Chuuya falls silent. His expression is contemplative, with an undercurrent of pain. His deep blue eyes are fully focused on you.

It was the same face he made the night he left the bar all those months ago.

“Chuuya-san...”

You swallow, ready to ask the question you’re afraid to hear the answer to.

“Didn’t you want to see me, too?”

But Chuuya doesn’t answer. Hot pinpricks sting your eyes. Shit. You’re going to cry.

“I see,” you say stiffly.

You gather your jacket more tightly about your body, preparing to leave.

“Sorry to have bothered you.”

You’re about to turn around and go when you see Chuuya’s fist tightening. With a start, you see his jaw tensing up. He’s gritting his teeth too. But he still doesn’t speak. You sigh.

“Goodbye,” you whisper. “Chuuya--”

“Wait.”

Chuuya rushes forward and before you can finish speaking, he’s gathered you in his arms in a fierce hug. His grip on you is so tight that you can hardly breathe.

“I did,” he whispers.

His voice is so small you can barely hear it.

“I wanted to see you too.”

“Chuuya-san...”

“The barkeep told me everything,” he growls. “He told me that you’ve been coming here almost every Friday night at our usual time. That you’ve been looking for me.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder and you reach up to comfort him. You gently pat his back.

“And waiting.”

“Chuuya-san.”

You swallow thickly.

“Tell me the truth. Why didn’t you want me looking for you? Are you...?”

You feel his arms around you tensing. He knows what you’re about to ask.

“Are you really with the Port Mafia?”

For a long, heavy moment, Chuuya doesn’t answer. But when he does, his voice sounds slightly hoarse.

“I am.”

As he speaks, you can feel his grip around you tightening, his arms wrapping more securely around your shoulders and waist, as if letting go of you would mean letting go of you for good.

“Chuuya-san...” 

Your fingers slowly curl into fists against his chest and the expensive fabric of his jacket wrinkles beneath your touch.

“My full name is Nakahara Chuuya,” he whispers against your hair. “And I’m not just any member of the Port Mafia. I’m one of the executives.”

Involuntarily, you stiffen and the instant he feels your fingers twitch against his chest, Chuuya groans.

“I knew this would happen. I knew it would. Fuck.”

His arms loosen and unfold from around you. He’s pulling away.

But before he can, you reach out.

“Wait, Chuuya! Don’t go!”

You grab fistfuls of his jacket and pull on it to stop him from leaving. You bury your face in his shoulder and he stops short. You feel his sharp intake of breath.

“Please,” you whisper. “Don’t leave again.”

“H-hey...”

Chuuya’s voice is flustered and unsteady. But he doesn’t move away.

“I kept thinking about it, you know...” you mumble, closing your eyes as you feel Chuuya’s black-gloved hand smoothing down your hair.

“About the way you look when you’re sitting there at the bar with me. The way you laugh when we talk. The way you look at me when we’re together. You were wonderful. Chuuya-san... You’re not a bad person, I know you’re not.”

“But I’m not a good guy,” Chuuya insists.

He drops his hand. Now he’s just standing there as you continue to cling to him. You lift your head and look right into his eyes, which widen in sudden surprise.

“I don’t care whether Chuuya-san is a good guy or a bad guy!” you exclaim. “All I know is... I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as your smile.”

Chuuya stiffens. You can barely feel him breathing.

“You...” he starts, and the emotion in his voice is enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You really think that?”

You nod vigorously.

“Yes. Yes, I do. I think about you all the time... Chuuya.”

I care about you...

He wraps his arms around you and, wordlessly, you do the same. For a moment, you just stand there together, locked in a silent embrace in the middle of this dark, bloodstained alleyway. You nestle your face against the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like the subtle musk and spice of an expensive cologne, like roses and gun smoke and something more, something uniquely Chuuya...

Finally he speaks.

“I can’t leave the Port Mafia, you know,” he says in an undertone, his fingers stroking through your hair.

“I know.”

In response, you hold him tighter. There’s a subtle wrenching in your gut, but you won’t let go.

“I’m not asking you to. It’s fine.”

“This isn’t going to be the last time this happens,” Chuuya protests, “You could get hurt.”

“I said it’s okay,” you insist. “Just...”

You swallow with some difficulty. You know what you’re asking and you know how selfish it is... but you can’t let go of him.

“Just let me stay by your side.”

You press yourself further into him. His body is warm, still humming with some kind of energy, but beneath that well-fitted vest, you can feel his heart beating against yours.

“Please.”

Time passes. You stay like this for what feels like hours but you aren’t willing to let go. Neither, it seems, is Chuuya. Finally, he sighs.

“I knew you were special from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he says, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. You can feel the low rumble of his silent laughter travel through his compact frame and despite your worry, you feel better.

“I just didn’t realize,” Chuuya murmurs, “that ‘special’ meant ‘crazy.’“

“If I’m crazy,” you laugh, “then it’s only because I’ve gone crazy for you.”

The words are out of your mouth before you even realize what you’ve said and upon hearing you, Chuuya lets out a bark of a laugh.

“You,” he cackles, “you really are something, you know that?”

His laughter fading, Chuuya loosens his hold on you. He lets you pull back just enough so that he can see your face but not enough that you can move out of his arms--not that you want to. Even in the dim lighting in this dingy alleyway, Chuuya looks so beautiful up close. His deep blue eyes gleam brightly as they stare into yours and without thinking about it, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips.

And then Chuuya smiles. Really smiles.

His grin is toothy and somewhat lopsided with obvious delight, and yet, his expression still doesn’t lose any of that cool, self-assured energy you’ve come to associate with Chuuya and only Chuuya.

You smile back. Your body grows warm.

Yes. This is the smile you wanted to see. The smile you’d missed so much for the last few months that it nearly killed you to think that you might not see it again. But right now, Chuuya’s smile is different. Good different.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him looking quite so happy before.

“Chuuya...”

Wordlessly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as one of his hands slides down to your waist. Chuuya places two black-gloved fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face towards his.

“Makes sense that you would be something special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your lips. “You are mine, after all.”

You close your eyes and the distance between you disappears. Chuuya’s lips are soft and sweet as they move against yours and you feel your breath hitch in your throat as his tongue ghosts over your upper lip. He feels so good and you cling to him as he deepens the kiss, pressing your body to his so tightly, you half wonder if you might be crushed by his strength.

But you like it.

You like the feel of his arms around your body, the way he grips you so tightly that his fingers dimple your flesh, the way he tastes--no wine could ever be as intoxicating as the man called Nakahara Chuuya...

When you come up for air at last, you’re both breathless.

”Wow,” Chuuya breathes, sounding just as dazed as you feel, “You’re... You’re a really good kisser...”

“So are you,” is all you manage to gasp before he dives back in for more.

As the moon rises high in the sky above you, you part at last, flushed and giddy and dizzy with joy. Chuuya takes your hand and leads you out of the alleyway, back to the bar you thought was closed.

He raps on the door with one black-gloved hand, the other tightly gripping yours, and turns back to shoot you that signature cocky grin when that same mustachioed bartender opens the door at last.

“I think it’s time we call you that cab,” Chuuya laughs as he pulls you inside the warmth of the empty room. “But I’ll meet you here again tomorrow, okay? Same time as usual.”

You nod. You’re smiling so hard it almost hurts but you’re just so happy...!

“It’s a date,” you say, to which Chuuya’s grin grows only wider. “So don’t go blowing me off this time.”

Laughing, he tugs you back towards him and presses another kiss to your lips, his grin returning as soon as he pulls away. His blue eyes shine like a bright, cloudless sky.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, holding you close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[primatechnosynthpop]

It's A Sad Webisode, But We Film It Anyway

(Aka, the things I write when I should be doing schoolwork...)

It was a cold, gray morning. The coldness was due mainly to the fact that Neil had left his bedroom window open the previous night, and the grayness was due to the fact that he hadn't cleaned the house in a while, leading to his walls being covered in a gray film of dust. Both those oversights were due in part to his natural aversion to housework, but also to the deep depression that was hanging over him lately, much like motes of dust. And that particular morning, his cold gray surroundings provided the perfect backdrop to his sullen morning routine.

It had been a whole week already. That was hard to believe. The sound of screams still rang in his ears sometimes when he closed his eyes, and he couldn't pass by that old house without shuddering (that much was already true beforehand, but now it was a deeper shudder, often accompanied by the prick of tears in his eyes). Worse still, he was hit with an overwhelming sadness every time his gaze landed on that urn… which happened often, because the urn was sitting right there on the kitchen table. He would have put it away somewhere where he didn't have to see it as often, but that would feel disrespectful. It was so weird to think that the little pile of dirt inside that urn had once been one of his best friends. It seemed like too small a container to fit someone so brave, so kind-hearted, so loyal. But there it was--all that was left of the true-blue American hero.

Neil heaved a weary sigh which turned into a yawn halfway through as he trudged into the kitchen. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes and pushed his bedraggled bangs out of his face, but his vision remained slightly blurry, so he took off his glasses and winced at the realization of how smudged they'd gotten. That wasn't even related to him being depressed about Kevin; he was just a mess that morning for no particular reason. But after wiping his glasses off on his pajama top and splashing some cold tap water on his face, he was all fired up for another day of wallowing in grief… just as soon as he had a nourishing bowl of stale cereal that just didn't taste as sweet these days.

As he was pouring his cereal into the bowl, though, something unusual fell out of the box--a little rectangle of shiny paper. Neil blinked, befuddled. His first thought was, did I just win a prize? He checked his cereal box for anything mentioning prizes or contests, but all he could find were nutrition fact charts. In fact, after tilting the box every which way, he finally found a line of text on the inside flap reading There are no fun prizes in here, just cereal. Eyebrows knitting together, Neil looked back at the scrap of paper tucked neatly amongst his cereal. Well, either the box was lying, or this piece of paper was something else altogether. Something like…

*

"It's a message from the studio!"

Neil's eyes were startlingly bright, and he had a grin to match. He was illuminated in the doorway by the rising sun behind him, which was just beginning to crest over the horizon. Did he usually get up and about so early in the morning? Moreover…

"They want us to make another webisode?" Ryan frowned as he examined the piece of paper Neil was shoving in his face. "Can we do that? I mean, you know, without…"

He trailed off, gaze dropping. Neil, naturally knowing exactly what he meant, sighed and scuffed his shoes against the porch. A moment of silence passed between them, during which they both thought of the missing member of their team. Making webisodes would be a lot different without Kevin, and probably not in a good way.

Then Neil suddenly brightened again. He stepped across the threshold into Ryan's house without an invitation--he didn't immediately object to it, so it was fine, probably--and shut the door behind him, not wanting anybody to listen in.

"Yeah, they want us to make a Greek mythology inspired webisode this time." He cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and read out the note he'd received:

Dear New Kids on the Rock, sorry for your loss. We will be sending in a new team member to replace James sometime in the next month. In the meantime, you need to continue making movies if you want to keep getting paid. For your next webisode, we'd like you to make an adaptation of a Greek myth.

Sincerely, Plymouth Rock Studios.

"I see…" Ryan stroked his beard, eyebrows raising. "Perhaps we could adapt the myth of Erysichthon eating himself to death, or Lycurgus of Thrace being cursed with madness and mistaking his son for a plant, or…"

"No, no, don't you get it?" Neil interjected, shaking the paper furiously in Ryan's face. "This is our chance! We can do the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, and that way--"

Ryan realized what Neil was getting at just in time for them to exclaim it in unison:

"We can get Kevin back!!"

"You go fetch the filmmaking equipment," Ryan told Neil. "I'll open a portal to the underworld."

"Alright!" Neil enthused. "Be right back!"

He scampered off, grinning wider than he had all week--which wasn't a high bar to clear, because he hadn't smiled whatsoever all week, except for in the fleeting moments when he forgot what had happened to Kevin, only for that momentary forgetfulness to come crashing down and plunge him back into misery at the sight of the urn on the table. But that was all going to change now. Heck, he may as well just throw out that dusty old urn, because he wouldn't be needing it anymore after this mission.

*

Somewhere far below the aboveground realm of the living, in a dark field of ash that stretched forever, a soul wandered amidst countless others. He couldn't remember who he was when he was alive. He couldn't even remember his name. And worst of all, he couldn't see a thing. In fact, the only reason he knew he was in a dark field of ash was because all the other souls kept moaning about it.

Time here didn't flow the same way it did in the living world. He could have been there for an hour or for a century. It felt like the latter. But he had no way of checking, because even if there were any clocks around in this barren field, he wouldn't be able to see them. And he couldn't hear any ticking, so probably no clocks. But hey, on the plus side, no ticking meant no pipe bombs either. At the very least, he didn't have to worry about dying a second time.

And he was definitely dead. That was the one thing about himself that he was sure of. The one scrap of memory that lingered in his mind was the sensation of a tentacle piercing through him, severing his major arteries. Although he couldn't look down at himself to be sure, it didn't feel like this hole was still there when he patted himself. But he didn't have a pulse either, so… yeah. Definitely dead.

He'd like to say it wasn't so bad, really. He had all those other souls for company, right? But all of them were a drag to talk to. Most of them could only moan and groan, and those he encountered who could actually speak were too caught up in emotional turmoil to carry on much of a conversation with. So it was just an eternity of wandering blind and aimless through a desolate field of his fellow ghosts, then. Great.

*

"Geez, this place is giving me the creeps," Neil muttered, trying and failing to suppress a shiver as he surveyed the barren wasteland. "It's so… ghost-y."

Ryan flicked a clump of ash out of his hair with a disgruntled huff. "I'll say. Who would have thought the land of the dead would be so dull and gloomy?"

"Yeah, our webisode isn't going to turn out very visually appealing…" Neil shrugged. "Oh, well, I guess we can edit it in post."

They lapsed back into silence then, with the only sounds being the ash crunching under their shoes and the low moaning of the pale ghostly figures that weaved here and there around them. Then, after a little more walking, Neil stopped, struck with a realization that was accompanied by a pang of dismay.

"Wait. How do we know which of these guys--" He gestured at the countless ghosts milling around them, all featureless save for the vague outlines of indistinguishable faces-- "is Kevin?"

"Oh, yeah…" Ryan turned to look back the way they'd come. Keeping the portal between worlds open was expending a lot of his energy, so he hadn't been paying much attention to all the ghosts… "Maybe we even walked past him already and didn't notice."

"W-well, he'd recognize us, wouldn't he? I mean…" Neil shook his head, unwilling to even consider the possibility that they could encounter their friend and have him not know who they were. That was the kind of thing that happened in movies when people got brainwashed, and it usually led to some kind of big fight. He didn't think he'd be able to take Kevin in a fistfight.

Ryan prodded Neil to snap him out of his troubled thoughts. "Hey, maybe you could get his attention by playing a song."

"Oh, that's right!" Neil held up his trusty keytar, which he'd been carrying with him the whole time. "That is how the myth goes, isn't it? Let's see…"

He ran his fingers along the keys, playing a scale. A cold wind stirred in the previously stagnant air, blowing clouds of ash around--Ryan coughed and swatted the dust away from his face--but most of the ghosts didn't seem to notice, with only a couple of them slightly raising their heads before carrying on their aimless trudging. Still, Neil was encouraged. He kept playing, eventually branching away from scales and into the basic pop song chords.

According to the myth they were adapting, that was how it was supposed to go: someone goes down into the underworld, plays a song, finds the person they came for, and then they leave. At least that was the gist of it. Neil was too eager about this mission to bother poring through any dusty old tomes of mythology beforehand. He knew the basics, and that was the important part; everything else he could just make up as he went along.

Ryan nodded, satisfied with this development. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and took out the video camera that he'd also been carrying with him the whole time, and started filming Neil playing his song.

"You're doing great," he called in encouragement when Neil's playing faltered. "Keep it up, and we'll lure Kevin out in no time!"

"I don't know…" Neil sighed, shoulders slumping. Looking around, he still didn't see any ghosts that looked like they might have been Kevin. "If this is where everyone goes when they die, then there must be hundreds of souls here--maybe even thousands. Do you really think we'll find him?"

"I'm sure we will," Ryan replied, but only because he knew that was what Neil wanted to hear. Truth be told, he was pretty skeptical about the prospect of them actually finding Kevin. And even if they did, he just had a bad feeling about this whole mission… he couldn't shake the feeling that there was some important factor they were forgetting.

Neil could sense Ryan's thinly-concealed pessimism, and it put a damper on his spirits, which were already pretty damp to begin with. Still, he wasn't ready to give up just yet. If nothing else, they had to complete their webisode so they could get paid. And so he straightened up, looked into the video camera, and launched into a bona-fide performance.

*

After an indeterminable amount of time spent trudging aimlessly around the void, music rang out through the ash-crusted air.

It was a rhythmic keytar beat, reminiscent of 80's synth pop. Surprisingly catchy. The lost soul raised his head and turned to face the direction the sound was coming from, and although he couldn't see, an image flashed through his mind. The mental image vanished before he could pin down what it was, but it left him with a sense of inner warmth--a sharp contrast to the desolate cold of the field. The music was good, then. He should go toward it.

At as brisk a pace as he could manage while maneuvering around the countless other wandering souls, he followed the source of the sound. A palpable excitement began to thrum through him as he ran. Somehow, this felt like coming home.

As he grew nearer, a voice spoke over the music--not singing, but a whisper edged with what sounded like concern.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep that portal open. Maybe we should leave."

Panic spiked through the lost soul, not unlike the phantom sensation of the tentacle piercing his body. Another mental image flashed through his mind: two men turning their backs on him and walking away.

"N-no!" he cried. "Don't leave me here!"

As soon as he spoke up, the music stopped. Disoriented by the silence, the soul staggered to a halt. If he still had a beating heart, he was sure it would be pounding frantically, and if he had lungs he'd be panting to catch his breath. As it was, he just stood still, staring sightlessly ahead and praying that he hadn't just been abandoned.

Then another voice spoke, quiet and shaky as though with disbelief.

"…Kevin?"

*

Well, you sure wouldn't know it was Kevin just by looking at him. He looked no different from any of the other countless translucent gray figures wandering around the field. The only notable difference was in his behaviour. Unlike all the other souls, only a few of whom displayed the slightest interest in Neil's keytar performance, this one was standing stock-still and appeared to be staring right at them.

"Is that… me?" The soul's voice was low and distorted. It didn't sound exactly like Kevin. But it didn't sound like someone completely different either. "Am I Kevin?"

Neil and Ryan exchanged an anxious look. What were they supposed to say to a question like that? After a moment, Ryan cautiously stepped toward the ghostly figure.

"I don't know… are you?"

"You…" The soul shook his head, his transparent outline of a face twisting into a pained grimace. "I know you, don't I?"

Looking at him up closer, Ryan noticed one physical difference that set this apparition apart from the others. Where all the other souls had the pale outlines of eyes, this one did not. Pulse picking up in excitement, Ryan glanced over his shoulder at Neil and waved him over.

"I think it's him."

"Really?" Neil made his way over to the soul and tried to pat it on the arm, but his hand just phased through it. "How can you tell?"

"Its eyes are missing, see?" Ryan poked his fingers through the empty part of the soul's face where eyes would normally be. "Just like what happened to Kevin."

"Oh, yeah…" Neil shuddered at the memory, which he'd spent the past week trying to put out of his mind. "Well, if it is him, then we should get him a new pair of eyes. He'll need them if we're supposed to keep making webisodes."

Throughout this exchange, the soul took in the achingly familiar sound of those two voices. He knew them, he knew he did! A series of mental images flashed through his head in quick succession, each vanishing before he could properly take them in. He clutched his head and shook it with a growl of frustration.

Then that last word stuck in his head. Webisodes… Yes, that was a familiar term. Another image flashed through his mind, and this time it lingered just long enough for him to identify it: two men--no, three men, himself included--hunched over a laptop, watching a little progress bar labeled "uploading…" tick slowly forward. He remembered drumming his fingers against the arm of the couch they were sitting on, chewing his lip, anxiously awaiting their newly made video to finish uploading to a certain website…

"H-hey, guys," he said slowly, incorporeal body trembling with the weight of the question, "What's that website called again?"

Eyes widening, Neil immediately snapped to attention, and began instinctively rattling it off.

"Http://--"

And suddenly the lost soul remembered, with the force of a tidal wave crashing over him, who he was. The three of them shouted it out together, in perfect unison.

"Hollywoodeasttv.com!!"

"Kevin," Neil gasped, tears of joy welling up in his eyes, "It really is you!"

"Yeah," he replied in a shaky voice, breaking into a grin. "It's me."

He flung his arms around Neil and Ryan, and although his ghostly form just phased right through them, he could feel their warmth, and it made him feel warm and alive as well. They stayed like that for a moment, huddled in a tearful quasi-embrace, until Ryan gasped and pulled back.

"Guys, the portal is closing. We've gotta run!"

Neil grabbed at Kevin's wrist. When that obviously failed, he got another idea. "C'mon, Kev, follow the sound of my instrument. We're gonna get you out of here."

They took off at an urgent pace, heading back the way they came. Ryan walked in front; Neil walked close behind, playing an improvised melody on his keytar; and Kevin took up the lead, only occasionally stumbling over one of the other spirits before righting his course and hurrying to catch up. When they got to the portal, it was still most of the way open, with easily enough room for them all to walk through. On the other side of that portal was the familiar interior of their clubhouse. Just a few more steps, and…

Ryan suddenly stopped walking, causing Neil to bump into him. At the sudden pause of the sound of his friends' footsteps, Kevin stopped as well. Neil prodded Ryan in the back with a puzzled frown.

"Hey, why'd you stop? We're almost out, we just have to--"

"…But that's not how the story goes."

"What?"

"We're adapting the myth of Orpheus, aren't we? He doesn't get Eurydice out of the underworld," Ryan said. Although he kept his voice level, a sharp pang of remorse squeezed at his heart as he spoke. "If we don't adapt the myth correctly, the studio won't be happy."

"Oh…" Neil gulped. "You don't think they'd fire us, do you?"

"I don't know, but we probably wouldn't get paid."

"What are you guys talking about?" Kevin asked, putting his hands on his hips. From his position a few feet behind them, he couldn't hear all of what they were saying over the groaning of the other spirits, but judging by their tones of voice, it couldn't be good.

Neil, beset by guilt at the prospect of leaving his friend behind, tried to glance over his shoulder at Kevin, but Ryan grabbed his head and twisted it back in place. If Kevin saw Neil looking at him with those plaintive puppy-dog eyes, he'd know something was up.

"Oh, nothing," Ryan said way too quickly and loudly. "Just saying how great it's going to be, you know, when all three of us are back in the world of the living…" He leaned in to whisper to Neil. "Listen, I don't like this any more than you do, but we can't take him back with us."

"But we came all this way," Neil objected. "Can't we just turn the video camera off now and edit it in post?"

"Are you talking about the video we're making this week?" Kevin interjected, walking up closer so he could hear them better. "What's it about?"

"It's, um," Neil stammered, "it's a--an inspiring sports movie?"

"Well, it's a good thing you guys came to get me, then," Kevin replied cheerfully. He slung an arm over Neil's shoulders, or performed as close an approximation to such a gesture as he could when he was still incorporeal. "What've you got so far?"

"O-oh, yeah, um… hang on, I've got it somewhere…"

Ryan tugged on Neil's sleeve and motioned toward the portal, which was now gradually growing thinner. "We should go," he reminded him in an urgent hiss.

"…Right, yeah… um…" Biting his lip, Neil gave a shaky nod of acknowledgement in Kevin's general direction without turning to face him. He couldn't bear to look him in the eyes (or lack thereof) just then. "Well, it's been nice seeing you again, Kev."

"Wait, what? You guys aren't taking me with you?"

The confusion and distress in Kevin's voice brought tears to Neil's eyes. Ryan drew in a sharp breath and held his head upright, forcing himself to retain his composure despite the crushing feeling of guilt pressing down on him. They thought back to the way they'd lost Kevin in the first place: running away from the ghoul without stopping to look back, thinking only of preserving their own lives, not realizing Kevin wasn't with them until they'd made it halfway down the block away from the manor, and by then it was too late. If they had stopped and looked back then, and seen that they were inadvertently leaving their friend behind, would they have run back to save him? Well, probably not. That ghoul was pretty scary. But they had another chance to save him now, and… well, they'd be a couple of real jerks if they left him behind again, wouldn't they?

They exchanged a glance, and the agreement passed unspoken. So maybe we won't get paid by the studio this week, Neil thought. So what? It'll be worth it as long as we've got Kevin.

"Of course we're taking you with us," Ryan said, and this time he meant it. He turned to address Kevin as he made this declaration, and Neil concurrently turned to face him as well, no longer ashamed to look him in the weird transparent eyeless face. "We came all this way to get you, didn't we?"

But as soon as they laid eyes on Kevin, a magnetic force took hold of him and yanked him backward. He yelped in surprise and tried to tug himself free, but was powerless to resist the supernatural pull. That was the very important thing they had forgotten--the reason for Orpheus's mythological failure. You weren't supposed to stop and look back at the person you were taking out of the underworld.

Realizing what was happening, Neil sprung into quick-thinking mode. "Ryan, hand me the video camera!"

"Alright, but what are you going to--?"

Neil answered that question before Ryan could finish asking it. In a fluid, decisive motion, Neil reached into the camera and pulled out the long roll of film from within. The film was instantly ruined upon exposure to the ashen air, but that was the last thing on his mind at the moment. He hastily tied the film reel into a makeshift lasso and swung it forward with all his might. Kevin just barely managed to grab ahold of it.

But the forces of the underworld wouldn't loosen their hold on Kevin that easily. He continued to be pulled backward, and holding onto the film reel lasso caused Neil to get pulled along with him. Just before the force either dragged him away or forced him to let go of the film strip, Ryan grabbed Neil around the waist. Steadier on his feet now with his friend holding him in place, Neil began reeling Kevin back towards them.

With their combined efforts, the three of them managed to break free from the pull of the underworld. As soon as Neil had pulled Kevin in close enough that it looked like they'd be able to make it, Ryan released his grip on Neil and darted through the portal. A moment later, Neil slipped through it himself…

And then Kevin stumbled through, just milliseconds before the portal closed. In a reality-defying ripple, his flesh resolidified, ghastly blue-gray transforming into skin flushed with exertion, short messy dark hair, and the slightly rumpled clothes he'd been wearing when he died. He gasped, filling up his newly reformed lungs with fresh air.

Then his legs buckled with exhaustion after such an ordeal and he fell forward. Neil and Ryan were there to catch him before he hit the ground. Kevin sobbed at the sensation of their hands grabbing hold of him--no more phasing; he could feel them, solid and tangible. And they could feel him in just the same way. Driven by the sheer ecstasy of the moment, he lifted them off the ground--prompting a yelp of surprise from Neil--and swung them around in a clumsy circle before setting them back down.

"Oh, man," Kevin half-laughed, half-cried. "I missed you guys so much."

"Aw, gee, we missed you too," Neil replied, patting Kevin on the shoulder.

"Say, you won't be needing that urn anymore, will you?" Ryan asked. "Can I keep it?"

"Of course you can. In fact, I'll throw in an extra one, on the house."

With that declaration, he clutched his friends close to his chest and made a mental vow to never die again.

*

"So, how are the new eyes holding up?"

Kevin blinked and experimentally rolled his eyes up and down and from side to side. His vision was about as good as he remembered, and they were staying in their sockets securely, so…

"Pretty good," he said. "Thanks again, Ryan."

"Oh, it's no trouble. I'm just glad I was finally able to put some of the eyeballs I've been collecting to good use."

Neil wandered in just then, holding up a blank check. "Well, we didn't get paid by the studio," he announced with a sigh of resignation. He flipped the check over to show them the stern note scribbled on the back. "In fact, they're saying we'll rue the day we dared to defy their orders."

It was two days after their underworld rescue mission, and aside from the aforementioned threat from the studio, everything was going great. It was safe to say that the status quo had been effectively restored, and although the lack of payment was a drag, neither Neil or Ryan regretted their decision, at least not enough to go back on it. Having Kevin with them was worth more than one week's salary. And now that they were a trio again, they'd be able to make more movies in the future, unfettered by grief.

"Let me see that." Kevin walked over and took the paper out of Neil's hands. After giving the note a cursory glance, he crumpled it up with a dismissive scoff and tossed it over his shoulder. "Ah, who needs them?" he said, voicing what the others had just been thinking. "As long as we've got each other, we'll be fine."

And it was true: going forward, they all made more of a conscious effort to look out for each other, and through this newfound devotion, they persevered. After all, mortals were only allowed one free trip to the underworld. It was a good thing they didn't waste it.

[sassysweetstories]

where i belong

Request: “TW imagine the reader is Scott sister who is a wolf and a painter which helps her cope and vent and stuff and she wants her art work to haunt them and the reader has feelings for Theo which some how the pack found out about and stuff and the reader is misunderstood just as Theo is and understands him better then the pack and she's scared to death about losing him and Theo is the readers first love and stuff like that and the reader only wants her happiness w/ Theo and not be controlled so much by the others and things like that And one of the things is she doesnt ever regret loving Theo bcuz  he was there for her when the pack tuned her out and stuff like that.”

Ship: Theo Raekan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, yelling, fluff, cussing, etc. 

Notes: none of these gifs are mine, credit to owners. 

Tagged: @bailey-hoover @kiralivelove @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw@anamcg317@bellasett @queentiffanyyy @archer-whovian-violinist @beingmadinwonderland @princessisabelle19@violence-and-velvet@lachicadelamanzana @teenwolfbitches2

Your P.O.V

The blood red paint dripped down the canvas. Not as thick as the liquid that ran under my own skin. I let it fall carelessly before tugging it back up towards the sky. Dark, thick black and grey clouds cascade on the backdrop, giving the audience an ominous feeling. At least that’s what I was going for. Whomever sees this painting; man, woman or child, could perceive the image entirely antithetically. To everyone else, it could seem malicious or even too dark for the normal eye. But for me, it was an escape from the nightmares that plagued my own head. 

I’m so intertwined in my own world I almost don’t even notice the packs presence till one of them nudges my shoulder, half scarring me to death. “Jeez, (Y/n). That’s a little dark, don’t ya think?” Liam looks down at the painting with fright and disgust. It takes everything in me to not smack him outright. Scott doesn’t come to my aid, choosing to not say anything at all. Even though I shouldn’t, I still hope my older brother can support me on something, especially my painting abilities. Malia tears into it, without mercy. 

“Why do you always draw things that are dark? It’s not like anyone died. I mean, jeez. It’s so depressing.” She shrugs, as if what she’s saying is the gospel truth and should enlighten me. 

I sit up, back as sharp as a blade. I will not cave in and beg for validation. I won’t get on my knees for these people. Suddenly a new body makes its way into the art room and I wish he hadn’t. Theo Raekan looks at the group before his eyes fall on me. Stiles glares at him, clearly frustrated with his only thirty-second presence. He ignores him, more focused on me and the painting than the hungry eyes that want to tear us both apart. That seems to be another thing I have in common with the young boy. 

He pulls up a chair and slides it next to mine, knee grazing my thigh and I glance down to hide the blush that’s made its way onto my cheeks. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I don’t think I could bare the negative feedback. It pains me enough to listen to the people I thought once to be my friends. I could never hear it from him. Not from the boy I’ve fall hopelessly for. I close my eyes, awaiting for him to rip me apart the same way the others do. But when he opens his mouth, I hear something very different. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

His voice is so soft and gentle, I almost don’t recognize the tone to belong to him. The others gawk outright but he presses on, almost pouring salt into a wound all of them seem to bare. 

“This painting is absolutely exquisite, (Y/n). Let me take a guess. These two are lovers-” Pointing to the grey people, outlined with red and yellow hues to show fire across their bodies. “But they’re being torn apart due to other people. They want to be together but they’re forced apart and broken down themselves until they’re no more.” 

This time it is my turn to outright gawk at the young boy. And to think I couldn’t fall more in love with him. He understood the message I was trying to send. So much so, that I believed that at some point in his life, he felt it too. He smiles down at me, glancing back at the painting. 

“I didn’t know you could paint so well.” I blush and can’t seem to hide it no matter how hard I try. He compliments me effortlessly despite the group of people glaring down at him with distaste. “I mean it. You’re smart, funny, gorgeous and a phenomenal artist. I would love for you to come by and paint something for me actually. Would you be interested? I promise I’ll pay.” 

But before I could say anything, I’m forced out of my seat and pulled away. “Absolutely not.” Stiles says, completely fed up with Theo even though he’s done no harm. I rip his hand off my arm and push him away. “Get away from me.” Growling lowly before grabbing the painting and Theo’s hand. Though my heart beats a million miles a minute, I stop outside of the art entrance and hand him my number. 

“Call me when you want me to come over. F-For the painting, I mean.” 

He smiles and I try not to swoon. 

“Of course, honey. How about tonight at seven? I’ll order your favorite pizza as thank you. I’ll be giving you money for the painting as well and you can’t say no.” 

His joking authority sends chills across my skin and I nod, bidding him farewell. The next few nights I spend them with Theo, eating food and painting a description he showed me the first night I came over. As time passes, I notice things change between us. Slowly but surely, Theo opens up to me, and I to him. We have created a level of trust and respect for one another. So much so, that he chooses to sit with me most days at lunch, even walking me to class when his are on the opposite side of the school. I know I shouldn’t over think it, but I can’t help myself. Wishful thinking and all that. 

I shove my books back into my locker, replacing them with new ones. But just when I do, a large hand shoves the door to a close. The pack glares down at me and suddenly I feel very small. “W-What?” Stiles is quick to provide an answer, as always. 

“You can’t be around Theo. We don’t trust him. You need to end your little childish crush and stop before you get yourself hurt.” 

Malia and Liam back him up, firing the final blow. “You’re so naive to think he’d want to be with you. He’s using you, (Y/n).” 

The claim is outlandish and disgusting; plain and simple. Though this situation is nothing of the sorts. I look at the people who stand before me. A few days ago, I was looking but not seeing. And suddenly the world seemed oh so very clear. Without thinking, I laugh so hard I have to put my hands on my knees to keep myself afloat. They look at me with confused eyes as I collect myself before speaking with confidence. 

“Theo is the only person who has ever given a damn about me. Don’t you dare stand in front of me and lie to my face. You are all selfish, bastards. He’s the only person who has ever cared for me, asked me how my day was, basic things and went farther than all of you combined. You’re all worthless and I choose him over any of you, any day.” 

I don’t let them speak and walk to Theo’s side. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, smirking. “Damn, babe. That was brutal.” 

I couldn’t help but smile, wickedly. “Well, I only treated them the way they treated me. I deserve better.” He nods in agreement and approval. “That’s my girl.” Theo peppers my cheeks and forehead kisses, fawning over one another. This was where I belonged. 

(I hope you guys liked it! PLEASE COMMENT BELOW!!) 

[emberinmyheart]

[ writing tips ]

( I am not the person who thought of all of these writing tips and ideas. Writing tips come from books such as Write Your Novel in a Month by Jeff Gerke, The First 50 Pages by Jeff Gerke, Writing Your Novel from Start to Finish by Joseph Bates and a tumblr account called @writingmastery . I do not take credit for any of this, this is just meant to help you.)

c h a r a c t e r s :

- making the characters

- what makes a good character/protagonist

- making the antagonist

- questions to ask about your protagonist

- things your protagonist must have

- supporting characters

p l o t :

- planning the plot

- theme

- outlines

d i a l o g u e :

- basic dialogue formatting

w r i t i n g s u g g e s t i o n s :

- how to get out of writer’s block

- how to get inspiration

[ c h a r a c t e r s ]

- making the characters -

1. Consider your character’s:

• Intelligence

• Natural gifts or talents

• Love language (how they express affection)

• Self-esteem

2. Consider your character’s physical traits, such as:

• Gender

• Age (at the time the story begins)

• Ethnicity

• Height

• Weight

• Hair style and color

• Eye color

• Complexion

• Teeth

• Eyesight

• Physical attraction

• Any deformities, handicaps or distinctive marks

• Facial hair (for male characters only)

• Clothing style (including sense of style)

• Accessories

• Jewelry

• Tattoos and / or piercings

• Contacts or glasses

or things such as:

• Hygiene

• Posture

• Vehicle they use (optional?)

because this can be a massive help when discovering a character’s personality. “How would your character’s personality be affected by the physical attributes you choose?” (Jeff Gerke, Pages 52, 53 & 54)

3. Consider your character’s background, such as their:

• Siblings — ages, names and relationship with hero

• Level of wealth or poverty

• Whether they lived in the city or the country

• Marital status of parents

• Culture

• Education

• Relationship with parent of the same gender

• Era

• Societal backdrop (war, famine, revolution)

• Country and region

• Parents — who are they? What do they do? What were their experiences with the hero in the past and present, and how have experiences with them molded the hero’s life? Are they alive? Are they dead? Rich? Poor? Alcoholic? Was the father a famous athlete the hero had to learn to be like, or never thought he could be like? Does this impact the hero’s relationship with their siblings, if they have any?

(Jeff Gerke, page 55)

- what makes a good character/protagonist -

1. Consider this for your protagonist/hero...

• The selfless hero. For example: “a single mother who works two jobs who works two jobs but still somehow manages to do homework with the kids and go out for ice cream once in a while, or a soldier who volunteers to stay behind to cover his buddies’ retreat, or the silent partner who lets someone else get the glory for the work that was actually shared.” (Jeff Gerke, page 36)

• The compassionate hero. “When someone reaches out in love towards another, it is considered a virtue. It follows that your reader will most likely resonate with a compassionate hero. Show them having mercy on someone when it was within their rights to condemn, or show them going through all kinds of trouble to get a crust of bread to eat, but then show them handing it over to someone who has even less than he does.” (Jeff Gerke, page 37)

• The generous hero. “We love the bighearted giver. Most of us wish we were in a position to be able to give like that, to support some person or cause we believe in. Show your hero secretly dropping a hundo into the subway musician’s tip jar or leaving a fifty dollar tip for the diner waitress or anonymously buying someone’s wares at auction to be sure he has money to live on.” (Jeff Gerke, 37)

• The charming hero. “If your character can make the reader laugh, you’ve got them. We all love charming, winsome people. They’re fun to be around. They make life a little less burdensome. Humor can be hard to write, so don’t stress if this isn’t the direction you want to go. But if you can create a protagonist that makes us smile, you have us.” (Jeff Gerke, 38)

• The sympathetic hero. One of the main ways to engage your reader is to make them relate and bond with your character until they’re attached. Characters can bring back your memories and trigger the release of feelings you’ve got pent up in your head and can help you navigate your own issues. “If you can cause your reader to feel sympathetic towards your protagonist, you’ve won. When you show that gaping hole of pain or loss, the reader leans in, rushing forward with compassion into that person’s life like air filling a vacuum. When we feel your hero’s loss or grieve with them as they fail once again to achieve a noble goal, we build an instant connection. Make us feel like this is someone who we would like who has just been dealt a terrible hand— but who nevertheless keeps trying— and you’ll have us.” (Jeff Gerke, 41)

• The unlikable hero. Some characters in best-selling books are unlikable characters, but they have something redeeming in them trying to get out. It’s the good that makes us tolerate them and even come to like them. Your heroes can be unlikable or have a lot of flaws, but they have to be somewhat likable enough for the hero to be attached to them and their story.

• The winsome hero. “One reason why readers can engage with these characters is that they find them endearing. They’re good souls, they make you laugh, and they’re gentle with others. Characters can be flamboyant and outrageous, but they’re delightful to be around. To make your reader attached to them in the first few pages, you’ll need to reveal this winsomeness to the readers somewhere in the first fifty pages.” (Jeff Gerke, 73)

• The smart hero. “Another way to make readers engage with your character is to make them smart, resourceful, clever or mentally agile. We value characters who can see straight through the smoke to the thing the smoke was meant to conceal. We delight in seeing a resourceful hero trying to climb to that pile of puzzles to tell us what they see from there.” (Jeff Gerke, 73)

“The way you can tell if characters are weak is by reading about fifty pages of a novel. If by then you can’t tell the characters apart aside for cosmetic things like gender, age, role, office, species, attitude or goofy accent, there’s a problem. If you could switch the names around in a dialogue scene and nothing seems out of the ordinary, the characters are weak. If the only difference between your characters is that one’s always mad and the other is always talking dirty, your book is doomed.” (Jeff Gerke)

- making the antagonist -

What does a antagonist need to become a good villain?

A good antagonist, or villain, usually has to:

• Be strong. “A strong villain makes for a strong hero. When a hero overcomes a weak villain, they’re not going to seem very epic to the reader. But have them overcome a galaxy-destroying psychopath with an army of flesh-eating undead giants under their command, and you might just have yourself a hero of legend.”

• Make the hero go through several stakes. When you look back at all of the notes you’ve made for your story so far, you may have a clear idea of what the stakes are. What might be the “OR-ELSE” stakes you can set for your book? According to Jeff Gerke (a very useful source for writing tips), “the stakes can be related to a goal, a relationship, safety or anything else. They can be objectively large (if the hero fails, Earth will be destroyed) or small (if the hero fails, the team won’t win the first game of the season), so long they are important to the hero— and thus the reader”. (Jeff Gerke, page 79)

- questions to ask about your protagonist -

When creating and rounding out your protagonist, there are some questions you must ask yourself first:

1. Who is your protagonist? “The events in your novel are only meaningful for the reader in terms of how and why they’re meaningful for a protagonist. The protagonist is the lens through what we see, and interpret, everything in the book.” (Joseph Bates, page 22)

2. What does your protagonist want, and why is it important to them? “A protagonist must have a clear goal in the book, as well as a clear motivation for wanting to achieve it... not just what they’re after, but why they’re after it, so that the reader feels a sense of personal stakes.” (Joseph Bates, page 22)

3. What stands in the way of the protagonist? “Which is to say, what conflicts will the protagonist face? As with motivation, these conflicts will sometimes be external, plot-level conflicts and at other times, personal ones.” (Joseph Bates, page 22)

4. What familiar genres or tropes are suggested by premise, and how will your novel both play with or against those expectations? “Every story idea will automatically get you thinking of certain genres the story borrows from. Finding ways to make these tropes seem new and unexpected will be much more enjoyable for you to write and for your reader to read.” (Joseph Bates, 23)

5. How does the world of the novel that your protagonist is in— its setting, rules, everything related to the book’s tone— help reveal or illuminate the protagonist’s quest? “A story’s world helps build a reader’s understanding of the character’s quest, meant to find a understanding of motivation, conflict and stakes. World-building is often one of the first aspects that’ll pop into our heads when we think of a new novel idea, and it’s very easy to get stuck into the world-building stage. But the world can only come into sharp focus when we see it as an extension of the character and conflict. We don’t build a world and then drop a character into it. We build the world according to our understanding of story and character.” (Joseph Bates, 23)

6. What personal, everyday questions or problems arise within the premise that you connect with and will explore over the course of the novel? “This is something that you’ll likely have to discover in the process of writing, not necessarily something you’ll likely know from the start, but it’s the everyday that allows the reader to connect with the protagonist and see something of themselves in the protagonist’s plight. As the everyday questions or problems begin to show themselves and repeat in the book, you’ll see themes emerge, which will help support and structure in the book.” (Joseph Bates, 23)

7. What is your character’s internal motivation; What do they really want? “Again, this might particularly be a question to ask of a flat protagonist, the result of a main character who seems motivated by nothing but plot-level or external circumstances; remember that your hero is also a person, like you or me, and consider what we’d feel in a similar situation. But don’t forget that even minor characters have motivations, and lives, and even arcs, of their own.” (Joseph Bates, 42)

8. How might you locate a character’s internal motivation and conflict if these may seem absent? “If your character’s motivation seems purely external, perhaps as part of their obligation as a job— if you’re writing a detective novel, and the character has simply taken on a new case— try to consider what it is about the change personally, that informs their professional work, how it influences their ability to do the job, or speaks to the reason they entered the profession in the first place. Also consider how this particular job is different from yesterday’s job, or tomorrow’s, or last year’s. Presumably part of what makes this job or case different that is personally different, there’s something personally at stake. How might that be the case?” (Joseph Bates, 43)

9. Are you playing both with and against type? “No character is 100% good or evil, kindhearted or callous, capable or clueless, so consider not only how to set up our expectation of character, but also how to subvert that expectation, how to complicate our view of a character.” (Joseph Bates, 43)

10. How is the heart of the character, the motivation, evident in a work you admire? “Consider this with any novel or work that means something to you, no matter the genre. Try looking back at the main character you find compelling and play armchair psychologist a bit, looking at how the external and internal motivation and conflict play with, or pay off of, each other.” (Joseph Bates, 43)

- things your protagonist must have -

1. A protagonist must be active and questioning. “The protagonist can’t merely be acted upon in your novel. Your protagonist has to engage the world instead of observing it. Too many beginning novelists tend to trade character development for world building. Once you fully grasp your character’s want, and why they want it, you can set them down a path of actively pursuing it.” (Joseph Bates, 36)

2. Your protagonist must evoke a connection with the reader. A reader’s relationship to a protagonist is generally one of sympathy, empathy or it’s because the reader sees their own life in the protagonist’s life. “In other words, we see something of our own lives, experiences and struggles related to the protagonist.” (Joseph Bates, 37)

3. The character must be connected to everything in the story. All those other aspects in the story are connected to the reader, too. The character should be bound to those other elements of the story. Theme, mood, description should all be focused through the prism of character. For some reason, readers want to see our characters be punished, destroyed and wounded, but these things aren’t as satisfying until they’re rewarded and end up triumphant in the end.

4. Tell us what the character (protagonist) wants. It is critical to know what a character wants from the start of the book. The character may not know what they want, but the readers and audience must have that information in order to read more of the story. Maybe, for example, she wants revenge, or freedom from oppression, or their child returned to them, or true love, or anything else that can be seen as a motivation— the reader must know what the character’s motivations are as well, because the readers need to know how far your character has come, what stakes are on the table and what obstacles are between them and their final path.

5. You must prove that your protagonist is worth your audience’s time.

- supporting characters -

1. Supporting characters either help or hinder the protagonist in meeting their goals. Some supporting characters can even end up being villains. “For example, some of the most well-meaning people in our lives try to help, and claim to have our best interests at heart, yet their well-meaning help sometimes ends up hurting. Likewise, people who stand in our way, even those who actively oppose us, can end up pushing us to do or be better. They have motivations of their own, and most supporting characters try to be helpful, but ends up complicating what the other characters are trying to do.” (Joseph Bates, 41)

[ p l o t ]

- planning the plot -

Your hero’s inner journey should have several stages.

These are some things you need to remember when planning out the plot of your story:

1. The hero must start with a problem. A inner journey starts with the hero’s problem. What is wrong in the character’s life? For example, “self-centeredness is often the “sin” chosen for heroes in modern stories. The hero is stuck on themselves, and this selfishness causes no end of problems for them. It deprives them of the life they could have if they weren’t so impressed with themselves. Other popular character problems are bitterness, ambition, pride and a desire for vengeance and/or vindication. But the primary problem that all heroes have is fear. Any from the array of fears and anxieties can propel your hero through a wonderful character arc. Fear of being hurt, or abandonment, or failure, or disappointing others, or loss, or being alone, or losing control, and of meaninglessness, not to mention neurotic fears (arachnophobia, agoraphobia, etc.), anger (which is fear in disguise) and depression (fear and anger turned inwards).” (Jeff Gerke, page 61)

2. The plot is about how the hero must notice their issues, wrestle with their issues and finally deal with their issues. It’s the hero’s chance to change themselves into a better person, from start to finish. “The plot is the stage upon which your hero undergoes their inner journey. Whatever the two forces battling it out inside your hero’s heart are, they’re probably invisible. When you’re thinking of plot structure, your starting point is your hero’s inner journey. Whatever it is they’re dealing with on the inside, that’s what the whole plot will be about.” (Jeff Gerke, page 87)

3. There are several stages in a plot. Examples of this would be events such as: we meet our protagonist, we see the location where the place is going to take place, we understand the protagonist’s goals, and we meet the villain. Beginning, middle and end are good starts for understanding the concepts.

4. In order for the hero to be shown the error of their ways, the author must show them a better alternative, first. Usually, the positive alternative future is the opposite of the negative possible future. What would be a healthy outcome for your hero?

5. There is always going to be an inciting incident in your character’s life. Something unwelcome is going to crash into your hero’s dysfunctional life— this is the inciting incident. Without it, your hero would keep plodding along towards their unhappy ending and go towards the ending you don’t want them to go. The inciting incident doesn’t have to be negative, although it usually is— sometimes, it can be a good thing that changes the character’s life completely. Of course, the character could see it as a blessing, but not while it’s happening. The inciting incident could be something that the character does welcome, but it ends up taking them to places they didn’t want to go. For it to work in the novel, the inciting incident must be powerful and must take the hero on their inner journey throughout the entire book. Our hero won’t immediately embrace the change, or else there would be no inner journey. They have to reject it at first.

6. Your character must have their own, inner journey. “In fiction, a inner journey starts off with a character in need of a significant change in their current life. The journey will then lead the protagonist directly to their moment of truth, which is the moment where the protagonist realizes they’re out of balance and must decide whether they’re going to stay with the imbalance or make the change that will reveal to them what their true self should be.” (Jeff Gerke, page 126)

7. There must be a escalation in the story. “The escalation happens between the inciting event and the moment of truth. This is the internal struggle in which the hero tries to hold onto their old, unbalanced way of living, while the new alternative begins presenting itself as a way back into love. During the escalation, your hero will be pushed and pressed and knocked about because they refuse to embrace the change that will result in their inner healing.” (Jeff Gerke, page 127)

8. You have to combine all of these aspects of the hero’s inner journey together to make the reader truly attached to the story. The cycle that all of these stages go through is starting off with the hero’s unbalanced situation. After the unbalanced situation, which is the hero’s initial condition, there is the inciting event, which is the one event that crashes into the hero’s life that leads to their moment of truth. Between the inciting event and the moment of truth is the escalation.

9. After all of these stages, your hero must have their final state. At the end of every journey, your hero must rest and face the result of her consequential decisions. The final state isn’t whether your hero won or lost, it’s the condition of your hero now that their inner journey is over. However, if your hero chose the wrong way, then the final state is something that is not peaceful or the right way to go. The final state will be good or bad, depending on the hero’s choices.

- theme -

1. Brainstorm a dozen ways to show off primary, secondary and opposite facets of your theme, and see how many of them you can elegantly work into those opening spreads. “You don’t have to cram them all in— you’ve got over three hundred pages to explore your theme, after all— but be sure you’ve begun planting those seeds early on. Such things make rereading a novel especially fun, because the second time, knowing where the book is going, you see things the author was doing to set us up for it, though we couldn’t see them the first time. Imagine it being like a film— in the early section of the film, the filmmakers would plan so many things that would have come to importance later. It’s a testimony to their prowess as storytellers that they were giving us the theme from the outset.” (Jeff Gerke, 207)

- outlines -

1. Outline your story with a beginning, middle and an end. “Each should have an emotional arc for your characters. I’m not talking about a synopsis of what happens, but more of what do they (the key characters) feel when it’s happening. This doesn’t mean that you have to know everything that is going to happen, but you need an arc. Point A leads to point B, then to point C. One thing people forget to do when they outline is define emotional growth, and therefore they forget that the story must include the emotional arc.”

2. Character outlines. “Who is the hero? Who is the heroine? Why do they fit your hero and help them be a better hero? Or vice versa? It is often the hero that helps the heroine and helps her find her way to the other side of a battle. Thus, he becomes a hero for her. Knowing your characters helps shape their responses and the external conflict.”

[ d i a l o g u e ]

- basic dialogue formatting -

There are different types of formatting, such as:

1. Dialogue silos. “In dialogue scenes, keep a character’s words and actions in the same paragraph. The reader understands that, when you change to a new paragraph, a new person is talking. The paragraphs take turns in line with the characters taking turns as they exchange lines of dialogue. Let each paragraph in a dialogue be a little character silo into which only words and actions from that character may be placed.” (Jeff Gerke, pages 138 & 139)

2. Beats. Beats are tools to manage the pacing of your scenes and to tether the scene to the setting. Just as you have to include rests in music, so you have to write beats into your novel, and you have to use beats of varying lengths to create those pauses for the readers. When you want something to proceed without a pause, take out all the words that come first. Without beats, your dialogue scenes are rushed and clumsy, and they become detached to the setting. Beats show us what’s happening in the setting of the scene. They give us the viewpoint character’s thoughts and perceptions, too. A beat implies a pause— if you want to imply a long pause, write a long beat. Short beats equal short pauses. (Jeff Gerke, page 25 & 27)

[ w r i t i n g s u g g e s t i o n s ]

- how to get out of writer’s block -

1. Have a word count goal each day. If you want to write more often than usual, you can set up a goal to write 1,666 words a day or more, depending on how much you want to challenge yourself.

2. Write wherever you go. Having a notebook or a iPad will come in handy when your mind starts wandering to scenes that you might forget later. You can take notes in your notebook or iPad (or any other device you can write or type your ideas down on), email them to yourself and then copy and paste when you get home.

3. Make multiple backups. When your notebook, iPad (or the thing you write down on) crashes or anything that makes you unable to use it, you may need to make backups so you can write on other things. Save it everywhere, or at least on three backups so that you can write whenever, wherever without a problem.

4. Use a timer. Time yourself, and then write down as many ideas or words as you can. See if this helps your inspiration and ideas grow into more complex ideas, and if it does, continue to use it. Surprisingly, most people tend to write faster when they’re being rushed. See if this relates to you, and if not, there are always other solutions.

5. If a scene isn’t working, delete it. Sometimes, a scene is much less forced if you simply let it drag you in the direction that it’s most likely to go. Just keep moving forward, instead of procrastinating by deciding what to write next!

6. Take breaks. Even though you have no time to lose, take a break if you need to. Step away from the phone and do something mindless. Sometimes, the gears in your head overwork themselves, pushing you too far down the rabbit hole, which is why you need to take a break every now and then to get rid of these little moments so you’re not tugging at the strands of your hair in agony when you get to a dead end.

[sammim91]

Chrobin Week 2019 Day Five Prompt- Memories

Day five prompt of Chrobin week 2019. Really enjoyed challenging myself with this and I’ve found that I’m learning a lot about my writing style as a result. Hopefully it will help me become a published frigging author one day, if i can only get my novel outline sorted lol..... Anyhoo, on with this. Link to Ao3 below the fic.

Day five prompt- Memories

Pairing- Chrom and Robin(M)

It was no secret that Robin had no memories. But he had never really been bothered by that too much. Sometimes he found that he wished her remembered simple things, like his mother, if he had siblings. Yet when he had married Chrom, those feelings had slowly gone. He had found a new family in the Shepard's, and in Chrom, who was the sweetest, most patient husband you could ever ask for.

So it came as no surprise when he walked into their room in the castle after a long day of going over new tactics in the library, that he found Chrom waiting for him. However he wasn't prepared for what else was waiting for him.

He gasped, his hands covering his mouth.

The room was awash with candlelight, and rose petals were scattered around the room. Chrom was stood next to a small table set up in the corner that had tablewear and two plates covered with silver domes, He was dressed casually, in a plain shirt opened low at the neck, and loose fitting trousers. A smile was on his face and he held a single rose in his hand.

"What's all this?" Robin entered the room fully, closing the door behind him, shuffling closer to his Husband.

"Can't I do something nice for you," Chrom feigned mock accusation, his empty hand clutching at his chest. "Robin, I'm offended."

"Okay, okay," Robin laughed, closing the gap between them, taking the hand Chrom offered him. "I didn't mean it like that. I was only inquiring about the occasion."

"No occasion, not really," Chrom pressed a kiss to Robin's cheek. "Just wanted to give you one more happy memory... that's all."

"Your sweet," Robin felt his face blush. "But every day I'm with you is a great memory." Chrom held out the flower to his husband, who took it, its petals the same colour as his cheeks, distracting himself with the floral smell. When he glanced back at Chrom he had sat down at the table, and gestured him to follow. "How did you plan all of this anyways?" Robin asked as he took his seat.

"Frederick helped," Chrom admitted.

"Frederick?!" Robin laughed, shocked. "Wouldn't have guessed he had a romantic side."

"Neither would I," Chrom captured Robin's hand across the table. "But the minute I mentioned what I wanted to do for you, both he and Lissa jumped at the chance to help." He motioned round the room. "The candles and flowers were Lissa's touch, although I'm not to sure it isn't a bit too much."

Robin smiled warmly. "It's beautiful." He made a mental note to thank his Brother in law and Sister in law.

"Your beautiful," Chrom murmured. Robin glanced away, unable to look in his eyes. Even though they were married, and had been for almost a year now, Robin still couldn't believe that he had been lucky to snag the prince of Ylisse. Robin was by no means a handsome man, not in comparison anyways. He was thin, too thin if you asked Chrom, pale skinned and covered in blemishes and scars. Right now he was sat in crinkled clothes, a linen shirt and pants, his white hair disheveled.

"I'm all gross from spending all day in the library," he admitted.

"Nonsense," Chrom smiled warmly, pulling his husbands face back to look at it, enjoying the blush across his cheeks. "I think your beautiful, no matter what."

"W-we should eat, before it gets cold," Robin decided to tactfully change the subject, otherwise he felt sure he would combust from embarrassment.

Chrom chuckled. "Sure."

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They ate in relative silence. Robin hadn't realized how hungry he was, realizing that he had skipped lunch in favor of browsing the books in the library. Perhaps Chrom was right when he said Robin ate too little, as he practically inhaled the food, making note of the delicate flavours and spices as an after thought.

"You need to eat more," Chrom chastised, affirming what Robin already knew. "I worry about you." Robin stopped mid chew, glancing at his husband. Chrom looked upset, and it made him instantly guilty. I'm sorry," Robin swallowed his food. "I don't mean to make you worry." He smiled warmly. "You know how distracted I become sometimes though."

"I do."

"Tell you what," Robin smirked. "I'll promise to remember to eat lunch, if you promise to eat it with me." As much as Robin enjoyed living in the palace, he hated the fact that he barely got to see Chrom, who was constantly in meetings.

"I think I can try to make that happen," Chrom smiled, yet his eyes still looked somber. "I'm sorry if you feel lonely Robin. I wish things were different right now, but there is still so much to sort out."

"Don't worry about it," Robin took his husbands hand. "I knew what I was getting into when I accepted your proposal."

"Still, I feel like a pathetic excuse for a husband. I am always gone by the time you wake, and your asleep most of the time when I get back. I feel as though by putting my duty to the kingdom first, that I will lose you, and you'd be well within your rights to leave."

"Silly," Robin stood, his small amount of food left untouched, coming round the table and kneeling in front of Chrom. "Like I'd ever leave you. I love you you sweet, kind and considerate man."

"And I love you Robin," Chrom ran his hands over Robin's hair. "More than you could possibly know." When Chrom's hand trailed over Robin's cheek he turned his face and planted a kiss on the palm. This time it was Chrom's turn to blush a lovely shade of red. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Anyways," he stood, pulling Robin up with him. "Have you eaten enough?"

"I'm fine, stop worrying about me."

"Never," Chrom smiled roguishly, grabbing his husband's hand. "Now I need you to close your eyes, the next part of tonight is a surprise."

"Chrom..." Robin sighed. "Just how overboard did you go."

"My lips are sealed."

"Fine," Robin closed his eyes. "But your going to have to make sure I don't trip on anything, got it?"

"Not a problem." Robin felt himself get lifted into the air, and his eyes reopened in shock. Chrom had scooped him into his arms like he weighed nothing, holding him close to his chest.

"C-Chrom... what are you doing!"

"Making sure you don't trip on anything," his husband countered. "Now close your eyes, go on." Finding no excuse to argue, Robin closed his eyes once more.

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Robin knew they were outside, that much was obvious. His body had shivered at the sudden dip in the temperature, and Chrom had pulled him closer to his warm body. He could smell flowers, and feel the air through his hair, heard it rustle through the trees.

After a little while Chrom appeared to be walking uphill, his body slowing as he worked his way upwards. Robin could hear the tiny breaths he made, could feel his heart rate pick up at the exertion.

But just as Robin was about to protest, Chrom suddenly stopped. Robin felt his feet hit the ground as Chrom finally put him down.

"Okay," Chrom whispered in his ear, causing him to shudder. "You can open your eyes now."

Robin opened his eyes and took in the sight before him. They were stood on a hill just outside of the castle, one that overlooked the entire city of Ylisstol. Above their heads was a giant tree, fully in blossom, some of the petals blowing around them in little pink flurries. And ahead of them was the most gorgeous sunset Robin had ever seen. Sure he'd seen a few, but he'd never stopped to really look at them. He glanced at Chrom, who was smiling smugly, clearly proud of the look of awe currently on his face, who's soft features were aglow with orange hue's that only enhanced his beauty. It was truly a memory that Robin would treasure for the rest of his life.

"I see what your doing?" Robin smirked, having seen through his husbands ruse.

"What?" Chrom tried to act innocent, but his flustered cheeks gave him away.

"Chrom. I know your trying to give me more memories," Robin touched his husband's cheek, forcing the bluenette to look at him. "Your sweet. Thank you."

"Y-your not mad?"

"Silly man, why would I be mad?" he took Chrom's hand. "I have a wonderful and loving husband. Every day with you is a memory I will cherish until I die." He turned to look at the sunset. "Pretty. I realize now I never really took the time to just take in a sunset before." He smiled. "So thank you for giving me this too."

He yelped in surprise as Chrom pulled him in for a kiss. It was long, heated, causing Robin to melt into his arms. Against the backdrop of the beautiful bursts of warm oranges, reds and pink of the sunset, with the pink blossoms billowing around them, Robin felt sure it was by far the most romantic kiss of his entire life, made all the more special by whom he shared it with.

All too soon Chrom pulled away, leaving Robin aching for more. He gasped to catch his breath back, annoyed that Chrom seemed unfazed by their kiss. He coughed, willing his heart to stop it's erratic beating, taking deep, calming breaths to steady himself.

Chrom stood watching the sunset in silence, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"S-so," Robin's voice was croaky when he finally spoke again, "Was this the only reason you brought me out here?"

"No," Chrom admitted. He turned to Robin before continuing. "You see, tonight is the Spring festival," Chrom pointed down at the bustle of the haildom below. "And when the sun goes down, well lets just say it's even more magical."

"I don't know, this is pretty impressive," Robin smiled. "What could top this?"

"You'll just have to see."

"Fine, keep your secrets."

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They sat on the grass hill, hand in hand, watching the sun dip below the mountain, giving one last burst of colour. Soon the sky was dark, the first sparkles of starts twinkling overhead. It had grown cold, so Chrom snuggled closer to Robin, the former always a lot warmer than his husband. They didn't speak, instead enjoying each others company.

After five minutes Chrom got to his feet.

"Should be starting soon," he mused, holding out a hand for Robin to take, who looked up at him in confusion as he was pulled to his feet.

"What's starting soon?" he asked. Chrom chuckled. He came to stand behind the shorter man, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his head on his shoulder.

"Look over there," he pointed with one hand, before resting it back round Robin's waist.

"What am I..." his sentence was cut short, as suddenly a light flew through the air, before a huge bang, followed by a flash of colour crackled across the sky, illuminating Robin's view a shade of red. He gasped, his mouth probably falling open like an idiot. He felt Chrom stifle a laugh, his breath tickling his neck as his husband placed a kiss to his neck. Before Robin had time to process, another light shot up, this one arcing in the sky before showering with a tiny pop into golden sparks, followed immediately by one of blue, then of purple.

Colour after colour lit up the sky, and Robin could barely take his eyes off of them.

"It's almost over," Chrom whispered. "Just one final firework left."

"Which one is that?"

"The one which honors the royal family," Robin could feel Chrom smile. "And this years is supposed to be better than ever. I hear it is dedicated to us."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Chrom chuckled. "I've had nothing but earache all week about it. Apparently the cost of it was enough to make all the nobles flustered,"

"So why do it?"

"Simple," Chrom nuzzled Robin's cheek. "Because the haildom love you, Robin. And I guess in some small way they all wanted to show that." He laughed. "I'd say they must approve."

Just as Chrom finished speaking, a huge flash of light drew Robin's attention. It careened through the sky then exploded.

Robin felt the tears fall as it did.

When the firework burst into colour he was shocked to find it formed a pattern. Of Robin and Chrom's signature weapons, tome and the Falchion, a blue and purple fusion, a symbol of their love above the haildom of Yllistol.

When the light faded, Chrom turned Robin in his arms, distressed at the sight of him crying.

"Robin? What is it? Are you Okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," he sniffled, dabbing at his eyes and nose in disgust. "I'm just so happy."

"Happy? Then why are you crying?"

"Because silly," Robin broke out into a smile. "This is the greatest gift I've ever gotten." When Chrom looked at him in confusion he continued. "I was so worried that they wouldn't accept me as your husband. After all, two men marrying, let alone one of royal birth, is all but unheard of." He glanced back down towards the town. "So knowing that they acually accept us, accept me, is the greatest thing I could ever ask for. So thank you Chrom. This has been one memory I shall never ever forget, even if my memories were to vanish again."

"If your memories get lost again, then I will always help you make new ones," Chrom promised him. "You will always have me, till the day I die."

"And you will always have me. I'm not going anywhere." They sealed their vows with a kiss.

Had either of them known the dangers heading their way, the choices they would have to make, the promises one would be forced to break, they would have wished for time to stop in that moment, so they would have forever together.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815820/chapters/47056378

[junker-town]

Reviewing the best (and worst) of this season’s European soccer jerseys

Photo by TF-Images/Getty Images

Let’s take a look at the fashion statements made across the top four soccer leagues in the world

One of the most unique aspects of soccer is that a team gets to make a new image of itself when they release new jerseys or “kits” each season. In recognition of that, we have decided to give our honest and subjective opinions on the best and worst that the top European leagues have to offer this year.

We looked at the kits of all the teams in England’s Premier League, Spain’s La Liga, Italy’s Serie A, and Germany’s Bundesliga and selected five of the best and worst they will take the field in this year. The categories for judgement are:

Best Overall Team Kit: The team we felt had the best combination of home, away, and third kits

Worst Overall Team Kit: The team we felt could have brought their home, away, and third kits back to the drawing board

Most Boring Overall Team Kit: The team that needed more inspiration when creating their home, away and third kits

Best Individual Kit: We chose the one kit that was the most strikingly beautiful, amazing, and awesome throughout the entire league

Worst Individual Kit: After looking at all of the kits, these were the ones we think will be finding the clearance rack soon

We also decided to prevent teams from being placed in similar categories. For example, if a team was selected as the Worst Overall Kit, they could not be represented in the Worst Individual Kit. The same goest for Best Overall and Best Individual. However, as we will see later in this list, we allowed for a team to be selected for the Best and Worst Individual Kits if we felt they were merited.

Before we begin, all photos were taken from footyheadlines.com, one of the best websites for soccer jersey leaks and releases.

With that, we start our list in England.

English Premier League

This was apparently the year that Premier League kit makers decided to be experimental. Some kits worked well, others crashed and burned in glorious fashion.

Best Overall Team Kit: Everton

These kits are clean, bold, and inoffensive. The home kit is traditional with great subtle design details. The away kit features an amazing shade of yellow. The third kit is a shade of mint that we don’t love, but unlike a certain German team’s mint kit, the accents are subtle. A great result for Everton here from Hummel.

Honorable Mentions: Southampton, Manchester City, Arsenal

Worst Overall Team Kit: West Bromwich Albion

The home kit isn’t bad at all. In fact, the bar code stripes have been worn by West Brom before with good results. The problem really lies in the away and third kits. Not only does the same pattern in the home kit continue to the other two, but the colors are terrible. The away kit directly rips off a fellow English team in Norwich City and the third kit causes me such intense headaches that I can’t look at it for too long. Why Puma?

Honorable Mentions: Chelsea, Manchester United, Newcastle United

Most Boring Team Kit: Fulham

Simply put, all three of these kits look like they were Adidas templates you would use when you’re making jerseys for your rec league team. Add on the fact that the third kit was their same last year and these kits look like the epitome of laziness.

Honorable Mentions: Leicester City, Crystal Palace, West Ham United

Best Individual Kit: Manchester City away

via Footy Headlines

This thing is beautiful. Shades of blue in the gothic cathedral design on the shirt play nicely with the black base of the shirt. The bronze accents and bronze monochrome badge really make this kit the beauty that it is. Man City went in three bold directions with all of their kits, but this one totally payed off. Maybe the best Puma kit for the year.

Honorable Mentions: Southampton third, Leeds United away

Worst Individual Kit: Manchester United third

via Footy Headlines

Do I really need to explain this one? The same design is on the shorts too. Yikes Adidas.

Honorable Mentions: Chelsea third, Liverpool third, Newcastle third

La Liga

The top flight of Spain brought a lot to the table with many impressive kits. Some stood out like a sore thumb, but most of these were fantastic.

Best Overall Team Kit: SD Huesca

A quality kit collection should be balanced, clean and varied. Huesca nailed all three with their range for the 20/21 La Liga season. Choosing a soft color for the cross in the home kit allows it to complement, not contrast with, the deep yet sparkling blue. The away is simple and all white, but it’s cohesive and has an understated topographical design element giving it dimension. The third is quite simply a green and gold accented stunner. The zig-zag design element makes it look flowing and royal. You either play a sport as beautiful as football in it, or you clap twice to have peasants carry you on a golden pillow to a goblet filled with peeled grapes. No in between. I’m shocked Kelme produced our winners, but they deserve it.

Honorable Mentions: Deportivo Alaves, Eibar, Valencia

Worst Overall Team Kit: Real Madrid

This requires some defense as Real is one of the biggest clubs in the world. The home and away kits suffer from the same problems. They both just look like white and pink t-shirts with as minimal design as possible. A lack of design on the shoulders and sleeves hurt this kit. On top of those two, the third kit features a design that doesn’t make sense for Real Madrid and failed to impress the two of us. Better luck next year, adidas.

Honorable Mentions: Celta Vigo, Sevilla

Most Boring Overall Kit: Getafe

It’s the same shirt, three times, in three basic and flat colors: blue, red and white. As a consummate procrastinator, I know ‘Whew, at least I made the deadline’ when I see it. Do better Joma.

Honorable Mentions: Celta Vigo, Osasuna

Best Individual Kit: Cadiz away

via Footy Headlines

Full disclosure: I would place Huesca’s third kit here but we are trying to be fair. Having admitted that, Adidas’ design on Cadiz’s away shirt is not far beneath Huesca’s third shirt. It’s not as opulent, but it would still feel good to pull on ahead of a match. It has a wonderful use of an accent color, which is a vivid and perfect shade of yellow that contrasts well with its blues. I typically dislike plain gradients (see: Chelsea’s third shirt), but the upward stripes are actually design elements that merge to create a gradient effect. Up close they are unique and interesting, and that continues to the crest, which is outlined in yellow and filled-in with a pearlescence that shifts from blue to a soft pink or almost purple depending on the angle and available light.

Honorable Mentions: Barcelona away, Eibar away, Valencia away

Worst Individual Kit: Granada third

via Footy Headlines

This is just ugly fam. It doesn’t deserve the classical collar it has, the glowing aquamarine is framed by flat yellow sleeves, the sponsor is a big red ‘W’ and the crest and Nike logo are blacked out. It’s a confusing mess of a shirt and I hate it, so I’m going to show mercy and stop typing so that you can scroll down.

Honorable Mentions: Barcelona third, Villareal third

Serie A

A league in a country that is well known for its fashion produced some amazing kits. Unlike the other leagues, only two teams were in the running for worst overall team kit. But, the loser is a big one.

Best Overall Team Kit: Genoa

Genoa’s kits this season are as good as Genoa kits get. They have a set style and Kappa didn’t deviate, but this year I think they hit the pinnacle of what they’re capable of. The home is perfectly balanced and has understated design elements to give it depth. The away is just as balanced and looks especially clean on an all white backdrop. The third is the beauty of the bunch. I love how the logo and crest treatments make them a cohesive part of the shirt, and the subtle red in the collar accents the red piping down the sides. The prominent design on the shirt is balanced by deep colors, giving it depth and making it interesting even though it’s simple.

Honorable Mentions: AC Milan, Atalanta, Fiorentina

Worst Overall Team Kit: Juventus

I don’t know what Juventus is doing with any of these. There’s no cohesion in any of them and two of them look like they were designed by children at the height of a sugar rush. WHAT IF THE STRIPES WERE LIKE TIRE MARKS INSTEAD OF STRIPES JUST LIKE SKKKKKRRRRRR! WHAT IF IT WAS LIKE ORANGE CAMO BUT NOT REALLY ORANGE CAMO BUT LIKE IT LIKE JUST BSH YA BRRRSHHHHS ALL OVER! Go to your room, Adidas.

Honorable Mention: Sampdoria

Most Boring Team Kit: Spezia

The benefit of looking at these shirts is that they will make you infinitely interested in something else just to make sure you don’t accidentally slip into a coma. ONLY MALE PLATYPUSES ARE VENOMOUS — whew, thought we almost lost you there.

Honorable Mentions: Hellas Verona, Torino

Best Individual Kit: Roma away

via Footy Headlines

I feel things looking at this shirt. The primary thing is an appreciation for life and the possibility that it could be beautiful. This shirt is a reminder, or more accurately a refresher. It can exist, it can be endlessly beautiful, and that must mean that not everything is terrible. The cream with deep burgundy accents, the throwback wolf crest, the retro styling; it is a perfect shirt and Nike’s best of the year.

Honorable Mentions: Atalanta away, Inter Milan third, Genoa third

Worst Individual Kit: Roma third

via Footy Headlines

Nike, continuing their quest to be the most confusing kit manufacturer, made two stunning shirts (one an immediate classic) and then decided that they would build the third shirt using construction paper. It makes no sense, it’s overly complicated, poorly designed, and has what looks like asphalt pouring from the armpits. I almost respect Nike’s commitment to ensuring that their expectations are never set too high. Every now and then you gotta fart at the dinner table just so everyone is reminded that you do not, in fact, have your life together. Correct, this shirt is a fart.

Honorable Mentions: Inter Milan away, Napoli home, Sampdoria goalkeeper

Bundesliga

One of us writes for a Bundesliga team blog. So, when we say we were underwhelmed by the offerings from the German top flight, we really mean it.

Best Overall Team Kit: 1. FC Union Berlin

There weren’t many dazzling kits this year in the Bundesliga, but this one stood out for all the right reasons. The collar and sleeve stripes on the home kit are perfect. The lines on the away kit are a great color of blue. The third kit uses that same shade of blue plus some awesome design elements that help Adidas knock these kits out of the park.

Honorable Mentions: 1. FSV Mainz, Armenia Bielefeld, Borussia Mönchengladbach

Worst Overall Team Kit: RB Leipzig

We both realize what Nike was trying to do when they announced the third kits of a bunch of teams (see Juventus, Roma, PSG, Spurs, Chelsea) would take inspiration from old Nike Air Max shoes to show the connection between streetwear and football culture. The design they used on the third kit for RB Leipzig should have stayed on a pair of shoes. It is ugly to look at and I almost feel like there’s an optical illusion I should be finding. The away kit has two (2) different shades of yellow with the club crest and Nike logo being darker than the bulls on the front of the shirt. A boring, uninspired home kit wraps up this nightmare.

Honorable Mentions: SC Freiburg, Bayern Munich

Most Boring Team Kit: FC Augsburg

*snoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooore* Huh? Did something happen?

Alright, I know that Augsburg’s traditional kit structure is white home kit, green away kit, red third kit. But did they have to be so boring about it? Three radically different collar designs don’t help these shirts and Augsburg should think long and hard about what they’ve done.

Honorable Mentions: Bayer Leverkusen, VfL Wolfsburg

Best Individual Kit: VfB Stuttgart away

via Footy Headlines

Jako kits don’t often get a lot of love outside of Germany. But gaaaaawd these are sick. The monochrome badge plays really well with the intricate design of the map of the city of Stuttgart on the kit. They also apparently aligned the map in a way so that the middle of the stadium was under the crest. Lots of points for creativity and a fun look.

Honorable Mentions: Borussia Dortmund home

Worst Individual Kit: 1. FC Köln third kit

via Footy Headlines

To the average fan, this is a garish kit. However, for Köln fans, it’s a throwback to a classic shirt known as the “canary kit”.

However, unlike the effort from Puma in the 90s, this uhlsport kit has un-subtle and blocky stripes that truly ruin any good things coming for it. This reminds me more of something I’d be wearing on the 20th of April rather than what I’d wear to a football match.

Honorable Mentions: Bayern Munich third, VfL Wolfsburg third, RB Leipzig third

So these are our rankings. This is the way.

However, we know the conversation doesn’t end here. Let us know your thoughts and feelings in the comments.

André covers Chelsea’s men’s and women’s teams at We Ain’t Got No History and the Washington Spirit at Black and Red United. He can also be found tweeting aimlessly at @not_carlisle.

Jake covers Bayern Munich and German soccer in writing and via podcasting at Bavarian Football Works. He can be found screaming into the void on Twitter @jeffersonfenner.