#very narrow slice of people these tags and post are at all connected in their mind

[thisismenow3]

It is what it it cause it was what it was

I did what I did cause it does what it does

[kyouka-supremacy]

You said In the tags of your recent asks "akutagawa actually is portrayed very naïve in canon".

Could you explain this more pls? Because I want to improve my writing of his character in my fics and in a sense i do understand what you mean here but I can't put it into words?! Like I don't have good grasp on this aspect of his character..

(And sorry if you received this ask twice my connection is bad idk if my previous ask has been sent or not 🙏)

I'm truly endlessly flattered you would take my interpretation of the character as characterization model, but at the same time I feel like advicing you to take everything I say with a grain of salt, since I feel like my interpretations can be a little unpopular in the fandom... (´；ω；｀)

Hi, thank you for this ask! I love talking about Akutagawa, and I find this to be a very endearing trait of his. Although I don't have many specific instances to pinpoint, I believe that there's a series of mannerism and inclinations he has that, together with his personality, can be explained in a picture of general naïvety. In particular, I think his general impulsivity and habit not to think things through result in such outcome: he's very... Superficial in a way. He takes things at face value. He's easy to trick. He doesn't constantly question and overthink as Atsushi does; he's simply very straightforward and direct. That's just how he is! (It's cute). The most blatant example for me is when he falls for Atsushi-Dazai's trick in chapter 34- of course, he's desperate, it's a very heartbreaking moment, but you see how Dazai wouldn't have fallen for it had him been in his place. Atsushi probably wouldn't have either, because he cares about his life enough not to jump off a balcony just like that. And that's the thing about Akutagawa's naïvety in the scene- he acts impulsively, spontaneously, without thinking about the consequences of his actions (even ignoring the putting himself in danger, he ultimately was easily tricked into letting Atsushi escape).

Akutagawa *is* narrow-minded. He speaks very bluntly and honestly, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. I remember one post defining him as having a single set of priorities that goes like “1. Kill the weretiger 2. Get Dazai’s approval 3. Die. That is his entire plan for his future. He has not planned farther than that.” and I think it really catches the character's essence. He doesn't overthink! He's straightforward! The man is thick. Take a look at his guidebook profiles answers: “What did you feel when joining forces with Atsushi? I’ll kill him next time.” “What's something you've recently been worried about? Does Dazai-san think about how much I've grown stronger?” “Something you've been into recently? Searching for Dazai's house.” “What do you want to overcome? My nemesis, the man-tiger.” “Where do you see yourself in 10 years?: Becoming the strongest ability user in Yokohama.” He really has like, two thoughts going on for him, and doesn't think much further than that. His whole “all you think about is slicing up the enemy before you” attitude as put by Atsushi is symptomatic of his simpleness of mind; and Atsushi is not wrong about him. Do you understand why I say Akutagawa is naïve? He's got a very limited set of priorities, and doesn't think much beyond of that.

By the way, in my opinion Akutagawa has been moulded by Dazai specifically not to approach things critically, to make him more inclined to follow orders blindly and not question things; so that contributed to this certain tendency to simply believe that what he's being said is, generally, true. I believe it makes sense for his position to contribute to that, too? Akutagawa is a pm executioner, a scary serial murderer; there's not that much people who would dare lie to him, but that probably ended up backfiring in the way that he ended up not expecting it from people, and he'll be assuming his own frightening aura will scare people off trying to lie to him, which in reality doesn't always work.

It’s quite endearing. I think Akutagawa is childish in a lot of ways - impulsive, immature -, and that's simply because he never got to grow up, you know? I stick to my take that Akutagawa looks way younger than he is in age, and that contributing to the horror aspects of his imaginary- like a ghost who was killed too soon and didn't get to grow up. Him having been deprived of normal circumstances that help properly develop critical thinking skills is self-explainatory, so that also explains him being so naïve, like a child.

[phoxphyre]

In honor of the gorgeous Snowbaz Pride & Prejudice art from @laeve-leve--and because it’s looking like it’s still going to be a while before I finish and start actually posting this thing--I’m going to do something a bit different for WIP Wednesday and post an entire scene. 

I’ve posted bits and pieces of this before, but here’s my version of the 2005 P&P rain proposal scene.  

Tagging @super-duper-twelve (for encouraging me to keep writing in the middle of a crazy month), @captain-aralias, @flammable-grimm-pitch, @otherworldsivelivedin, @nightimedreamersworld, @palimpsessed, @wetheformidables, @ninemagicks​, @aristocratic-otter​, @sharkmartini​ and anyone else who wants to share! 

~~~~~~

Once in the park Simon summoned the Sword of Mages and swung it viciously, slicing the heads off of flowers and cutting new pathways into the spring grass. His mother would reproach him for using it for something so trivial—but after all, she was not here.

When the skies at last poured open Simon bent his head back and stood staring up into the clouds.  

“Perfect,” he said.

He was soaked to the skin within moments. He strode onwards; something about the weather matched his mood.

“Her family,” Simon said viciously.

It was impossible that Mr. Pitch could have meant anyone other than Shepard and Penny. He was hardly surprised that Mr. Pitch had opposed the match, but he had believed Miss Wellbelove the chief architect of their separation. To learn that Mr. Pitch was the cause, that his vanity and pride were the cause of all that Penny had suffered—that she continued to suffer—

Simon decapitated a hapless daisy. Mr. Pitch had ruined the hope of happiness for the best person Simon knew—the person who had saved him when he had lost everything.

“‘There were very strong objections against the lady,’” Simon bit out. What were the objections? That she had one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in trade?

Mr. Pitch could not possibly have objected to Penny herself. She was perhaps somewhat irregular in her way—but also sharp as a blade, a talented magician, on her way to becoming a brilliant magickal scholar. She was exactly the type of person Mr. Pitch should respect. Nor was there anything to object to in their mother.

His father and siblings, on the other hand…but no, that could not possibly be the reason. It was all vanity; Mr. Pitch must object to their lack of connections, their want of wealth. And perhaps Simon’s own bastardy.

Simon swung at a stump; the sword stuck in the wood, and he had to use two hands to pull it out. Even the cold felt good: the act of driving his body to escape the tyranny of his mind.

Simon broke free of the trees and found himself on a long lawn. To his left it sloped down to a picturesque pond, all surrounded by willows weeping into the gray water; to his right it climbed to a ridiculous Grecian folly, the kind of thing that rich people planted on their lands when they grew tired of hedge mazes. The rain pounded down, stronger here without the trees to shield him. He broke into a run, less to escape the rain than to feel the blood pumping through his body.

The folly was little more than four columns reaching to the sky with a marble floor and a rounded wall on one side; it was roofless, and once within the columns Simon tipped his head up again, drinking in the rain. He felt hot with rage, as if his anger might overflow his body and run down the hill like the rain.  

Then, without warning, there was the tap of riding boots against marble—and suddenly Mr. Pitch was there.

For a moment they stared at each other. He was as wet as Simon, his hair plastered to his skull. Water ran from the ends of his hair and tracked down his cheekbones like tears.

“Simon,” Mr. Pitch said. Through his anger Simon saw that his eyes were the color of the pond. The storm washed everything about him grey-green; he might have been the statue of an angel carved from the same rock as the columns.

“I—” he said. And then he took two steps forward, pressing Simon back into the stone of the wall, and crushed Simon’s lips against his.

For a moment Simon was frozen, too surprised to resist. He felt the cold stone against his hips, the cold rain running between their two faces. Against his will his hand came up and wound itself into the hair at the back of Mr. Pitch’s neck. Somehow he had already known how it would feel, soft as down under the pads of his fingers. His mouth opened; Mr. Pitch’s lips were gentle on his, even as his body pushed Simon’s into the stone. Simon could feel him down the whole length of his body, warm where he blocked Simon from the rain.

Then Simon’s hands came up; he placed both palms against Mr. Pitch’s shoulders and pushed him away, hard. Mr Pitch stumbled back a few paces; he raised his hand to touch his lips.

“What. The hell,” Simon spat.  

“Simon,” Mr. Pitch said. “I have struggled in vain. It will not do.” He took a step forward. “I came to Hampshire to see you—” He shook his head, the wet ends of his hair whipping past his face. “I had to see you.”

Simon could only stare at him.  

“I’ve fought against my family’s expectations, my better judgement, the lowness of your birth—my rank and circumstance…” His voice hitched. “All of it. I know any connection between us must be reprehensible. But I must put those considerations aside and ask you: please, end my agony.”

Simon had never seen that expression on his face, had never imagined that face capable of making such an expression: open and yearning, as if all of his walls had fallen and the gates thrown open.

“I love you,” said Mr. Pitch. “Most ardently.”

Simon made a noise, halfway between horror and mad laughter. “You love me?”

Mr. Pitch extended his hand, pale in the darkness of the storm. Rain ran down the curves of his fingers and pooled in his palm. “Believe me, I wish I did not. It is ridiculous—unthinkable. But I do.”

Simon stared at the hand and did not take it. “It is ridiculous to love me?” he said slowly.

“Yes,” said Mr. Pitch. He sounded relieved that Simon had understood so quickly. “But here we are. So I must beg you to accept my hand.”

“You have a strange way of begging,” said Simon.

“What?”

“I am sorry if your—passion has been difficult for you,” Simon said. “But no. No.”  

He watched Mr. Pitch’s face close as he spoke, the gates swinging shut and the walls fortified.  

“So you are refusing me?” Mr. Pitch said coldly. He withdrew his hand, wiped it on his coat, and placed it in his pocket.  

“Yes.” Simon could not help the bite in his voice. “But as you have so little esteem for me, I hope you will recover quickly.”

“Might I inquire why I am thus rejected?”  

“I am surprised you need to inquire, after telling me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character.”

“I did not mean—”

“You should thank you me for saving you from such a terrible fate,” said Simon. “In any case, did you think I would marry the man who has ruined the happiness of my dearest friend? My sister?”

Mr. Pitch paled further. The rain fell between them like a veil.

“Can you deny it?” Simon demanded. He stepped forward, thrusting his chest forward, forcing Mr. Pitch back a step.

“I have no wish to deny it,” said Mr. Pitch. Simon searched his face for regret and found none: only pride and bitterness. “I did everything in my power to separate Shepard from your sister, and I rejoice in my success. I have been kinder to him than myself.”

“Why?” Simon demanded. He put his hands against Mr. Pitch’s shoulders again and shoved, pushing him back. “How could you do it?”

“I believed she was indifferent to him.”

“She danced with him! She laughed with him!”

“She argued with him! Continually!”  

“For Penny, that is love!” Simon snarled. “She was supposed to show her true feelings? You will not even show your true feelings when you find your mother’s journals!”

Mr. Pitch stumbled back another step, away from Simon’s hands. “And I suppose you despise me for what I am as well?”

“No! I would never—”

“After all, why would you tie yourself to a dark creature?” Mr. Pitch said bitterly. “Even when it would save yourself and your family.”

“Yes, it is always about money, with people like you. I suppose you think Penny was hungry for Shepard’s fortune?”

“I would never do her the dishonour. Although it was made clear that an advantageous marriage—”

“Did Penny give that impression?”

“No! But there was your family—”

“My family. What was it—our want of connection? My bastardy?”

“It was the lack of propriety shown by your father, your younger siblings—even your mother on occasion.” He looked away. “Forgive me.”  

“Oh? Is that all? And what about Mr. Lamb?”

“Lamb?” Mr. Pitch said blankly.  

“What excuse can you give for what you did to him?”

“You certainly take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns.” The earlier openness had been entirely wiped away; Mr. Pitch’s face showed only anger now.

“How could I help it, once I knew of his misfortunes?”

“Oh, yes, his misfortunes,” Mr. Pitch said savagely.

“You were the one who reduced him to poverty, and yet you mock and ridicule him.”

“So this is your opinion of me!” cried Mr. Pitch. He paced from one side of the folly to the other, his steps quick and angry. “This is the estimation in which you hold me! Thank you for explaining it so fully.”

Suddenly he was before Simon again, having moved too quickly for Simon’s eyes to follow. It was so inhuman a motion that Simon could not help himself; he shrank away, as one shies from a snake. Mr. Pitch’s eyes narrowed.

He thrust his face into Simon’s, almost spitting now. “But you might have overlooked all of this, if I had not injured your pride—if I had lied and flattered you.” He raised a hand, and Simon thought for a moment that he would strike him. Simon put his hand over his hip, wondering if he could summon his blade quickly enough to prevent Mr. Pitch from killing him.

But Mr. Pitch was already dropping his hand, turning away. “I refuse,” he said. “I will not lie to you. I abhor disguise of every sort.”

Simon grabbed his arm, preventing him from moving away. The skin was cold beneath his fingers and slippery from the rain. “You have been lying from the moment you met me,” he said. He yanked at Mr. Pitch’s arm, wrenching it in its socket. “All you are is disguise! And there is nothing you could have said to make me consider your offer.”

“Simon—”

“My name is Mr. Snow,” Simon spat.

Mr. Pitch tried to wrench his arm from Simon’s grasp, but Simon held on doggedly. “I’ve known it from the first moment met,” he said. “You are the last person in the world I could ever marry.”

Mr. Pitch’s arm was still in Simon’s grip, so instead he leaned in, his face a breath away from Simon’s. “Are you quite finished?” he said coldly.  

This close, Simon could see the rings of colour in Mr. Pitch’s eyes, all the hues of the sea. He could feel Mr. Pitch’s breath on his face. He loosened his grip, and Mr. Pitch’s arm slid from his fingers.

“You have said quite enough, sir,” Mr. Pitch said. “I perfectly comprehend your feelings.” He turned to go; his boots made a dull plashing in the puddles gathering on the stone floor.

“I have now only to be ashamed—” his breath hitched, and Simon watched his shoulders rise and fall. “Of what my own have been.”

He looked back over his shoulder, his voice full of venom.

“Forgive me, sir, for taking up so much of your time.”

He strode from the folly. A moment later Simon heard the sound of hooves, pounding away.  

[fondnesses]

roscoe’s notebook post

A while back I said I was going to write a post about the way I use notebooks for writing projects. This is the first of several posts about Writing Process I’ve been tossing around in my drafts for a little while as a result of conversations with friends, so bear with me.

I. Love. Notebooks. I genuinely would have to deeply overhaul my whole Process of writing anything on the longer side if I were to go paperless; I find physical paper pretty invaluable when I’m outlining, brainstorming, and researching, and I still probably write ¼-⅓ of all my actual content on paper first. (That proportion used to be a lot higher, but I’ve gotten better at being productive on a computer in recent years, which is great.) I’m a very visual person, so notebooks really help me visualize my ideas, story structure, etc. It’s very helpful to be able to use arrows and diagrams and physically strike things through, and the tactility is really soothing to me. If I show people my notebooks or talk about them, I often get a response like “this is so organized”, which is sort of true, but I have to stress that it’s ��organization for a disorganized mind”; I can’t misplace ideas or notes if it all goes into the same physical object, vs. electronic notes, which are much more, like “Did I say that in a voice memo? PM it to myself on Discord? Leave it in a desktop sticky note? Write it directly into the Google Doc? Who knows! It’s lost to time!”. It’s very much an ADHD management strategy.

It helps that I’m a very neophyte stationery hobbyist and appreciate any excuse I have to use my pens, but I also will go off at any opportunity about how helpful I find them for writing projects, which is why I decided to just make a post about it. Right now I mostly use them for (fan and original) fiction projects, but I used a notebook for a very similar purpose when I was working on my undergrad thesis, and I have a slightly different but equally necessary-to-me approach to notebooks I use at work.

My typical structure for a notebook that’s devoted to one project only looks like this:

I always leave the first couple pages blank so I can go back and retroactively index bujo-style. I don’t always actually do the index, because sometimes I get too lazy, but I like having those blank pages there to give me the option. I also usually put epigraphs/inspo quotes on the first page.

After that, there’s often (but not always, I’ll talk about it) a couple pages at the start where I’m frantically jotting down loose brainstorming ideas before they've coagulated into a story structure. Just, like, vomiting into the void.

Stemming out of that, I usually write out about like 5-10 pages of outline-style notes in chronological order, laying out all the main story beats and charting out the story trajectory. This will inevitably get revised and rewritten many times, but I find the process of writing these wide-angle synopses really useful for dislodging ideas, making connections re: thematic threads, etc. from my brain.

I’ll devote a couple pages after that to specific things like "sex scene brainstorming", "random scene ideas/minor details that don't have a clear place in the outline right now but I'll turn to for inspo later" [this is what I refer to as “bits” in one of the later photos], "page where I just outline the Motifs And Themes", "research notes", "to-do list", "stuff to check on a second pass", "things to put in the a/n and AO3 tags", etc.--the specifics vary with the story.

Then, I skip ahead to approx. halfway through the notebook and cordon off the rest of the pages to be “free writing” space, AKA writing of actual content rather than planning, with the expectation there will be no internal organization and I’ll transcribe to laptop as I go. Writing on paper feels less binding than typing something on a computer; it’s like a little secret kept with myself, and it doesn’t need to go anywhere or be seen by anyone if I decide I don’t like it. Setting aside pages in the back half of the notebook means that, as more things come up re: planning, I can go back and add those in the rest of the pages that were intentionally left blank. This is how I avoid (for the most part) having the whole thing be a jumbled mess where there’s no separation between the notes and the actual story writing; I learned this the hard way via the first notebook I’ll show you in a second. I’ve recently gotten really into using Muji sticky note tabs to label any pages/sections of particular import that don't want to have to refer back to in the index and would rather just flip to instantly.

I do use notebooks that aren’t specific to any one project, but those are much less organized and less worth sharing.

Before I look at more recent stuff, here are some selections from my notebook for the project that got me into writing longfic, my Golden Kamuy canon divergence AU (with apologies for the bad photos, my phone’s camera is trash). I worked on this from Sept 2018-July 2019. It was a learning experience in a lot of ways, and notebook utilization was one of those. I’ve always used notebooks for keeping track of writing projects, as I said earlier, but before this it was largely without much organization or structure; just total chaos. Having a physical notebook became really important for this project because it was a sprawling multichapter story with rotating POVs and a lot of historical research. I also learned a lot about what not to do with a notebook, personally, or at least things that don’t work so well (for me). This was a college ruled spiral-bound Decomposition Book, for the record.

By the time I bought a notebook for it I already had a (very basic) plot outline in mind, so I wasn’t doing that very initial ground-zero brainstorming in here; I was copying out of my phone’s notes app, basically, and then going from there. 

This is one of the first pages in this notebook; I wanted to visualize the relationship web between the four central characters in the story in terms of how they feel about one another. The two colours correspond to the POV characters (Sugimoto in orange, Ogata in pink), and I used this colour-coding throughout the notebook with highlighters, etc. to keep track of information that was more relevant to one character than the other. Tsurumi and Yuusaku aren’t POV characters, but they’re prominent in the story and their presence impacts the central relationship between Sugimoto and Ogata, and it was helpful to me to map out the emotional ecosystem, as it were.

(There are coffee stains all over this, because I wrote the vast majority of the story in coffee shops because I didn’t want to be around my roommates, lol. This is part of why I never do fiction writing in notebooks that are too nice, I get neurotic about needing to keep them tidy. I can’t use ones that are too shit though, either, so it’s a bit of a narrow window. I’ll talk more about brands and paper quality etc. later.)

As you can see, this is the first page of many I set aside specifically for jotting down different pieces of historical information relevant to my story. It’s about fictional characters who are members of an army division that existed in real life, and both the canon and my fic involve a high level of attention to detail with regards to which divisions were present for which battles, etc., as well as general historical details specific to the Russo-Japanese War setting--what did people eat in the trenches? What did they do to fill time? How did they get through the winter? What did third party observers have to say about the conditions? What were the specs of their weaponry (particularly important because one of the POV characters is a sniper and gun nut)? I did a lot of reading (and watching of antique gun collector Youtube videos... the things I do for love, eh), and it came in handy so many times, because it turns out it’s much easier to write trench warfare slice of life if you have factual details to pull from when you don’t know what to do with a scene! Imagine that!

This is the first of three “grid outlines” I made; this is a way I sometimes like to visualize a story outline all on one page, with the columns representing chapters and the squares within the columns representing sections/scenes within the chapters. As you can see, early on I was hoping to get this done in five or even FOUR chapters (whatmakesyouhaha.mp3), with POV switches happening internally within the chapters. This proved to be unwieldy for many reasons, so I revised the outline:

Here I’d come to terms with the fact this story was going to have a lot more chapters than I’d planned, and I rearranged things so that it would happen in ten, with each chapter belonging to only one POV character. This also needed revising later, and in the end the story looked a bit more like this (though it did in fact end up being twelve chapters, but only because Chapter Ten was like, 12k, and needed to be split in two chunks):

I must have remembered to bring my fineliners to the coffee shop this time, lol, because as you can see it’s properly colour-coded this time. This outline was made when I was already four posted chapters into the fic, which hopefully gives you a sense of the way in which I am sort of a planner and a pantser; I can’t get into a longer project without an outline, but the outline inevitably changes many times throughout writing and I often end up with a finished product that looks pretty different from what I was intending. My creative M.O. as always is Do The Maximum! Amount! Of! Work! Possible!

This is what a “free writing” page looks like, for me. In this notebook I didn’t set aside any specific spaces for free writing so it’s strewn throughout the notebook in a really disorganized way and I was constantly flipping through looking for bits I’d written and forgotten to transcribe, and I decided to be more organized in future as a result of that. If something’s crossed through, that means I transcribed it. As you can see, they’re often small sections, sometimes just a coupled decontextualized sentences. About 3/4 of what I write in a notebook makes it into the story, I’d say; some of it never goes anywhere, and that’s OK. I have less of an issue killing my darlings if they never make it off the paper page.

A very brief, top-down chapter outline, where the goal was not to get too bogged down in details and just to visualize the beats and pin down what they’re trying to accomplish. Chapters for this fic typically ran about 6k, and five or six scenes per chapter was pretty common, so the average scene length was about 1-1.25k words/scene. IDK why I called it storyboarding when I didn’t make drawings. (Margin numbers are to keep track of word count, since I was using a daily word count tracker while writing this.)

This page was, as titled, for keeping track of the various balls in the air when I was about 2/3-3/4 of the way through the story and really feeling the pressure with regards to tying up the various loose ends. This was... a struggle. I hadn’t ever written anything longish (this fic ended up just under 70k) that had an action plot before, let alone a canon divergence scenario where I had to engage with and explain away various canon plot elements so I could maintain the audience’s suspension of disbelief.

Now, I mentioned earlier that I learned various “things not to do” with my notebooks while working on that project. One of those lessons I learned is to be more realistic when assessing how big a project is likely to get, not least because I RAN OUT OF PAGES around the chapter 9-10 mark. In my defense though, that’s because I’d never written anything even half this long! But I know better now, and try not to be in denial. Finishing the notebook early was a way bigger problem than I’d anticipated, and was part of the reason the last few chapters took several grueling months to finish. The issue was that I needed to be able to use a notebook to maintain my workflow--attempting to do it only on a computer was dismal--but it seemed silly to start a notebook of a similar size to the one I’d finished (80pg, approximately B5 dimensions) when there was no way it would need that much space, especially since the reference pages, like the historical notes, didn’t need to be transcribed over. I was also pretty broke at the time and didn’t want to spend money unnecessarily, lol. I tried to get by using a Moleskine Cahier for a month or so because I had one lying around, but it was horrid; it was too small to be used comfortably, it wasn’t spiral-bound so it wouldn’t lay flat, the ghosting is terrible and I hate the way Moleskine paper feels, etc. Eventually I caved and went to Muji and bought a 30ish page A5 with closer to lay-flat binding, and I finished the story in there. I would take a comparative pic for you of the relative notebook sizes and include some of the scene staging diagrams, etc. I put in there, but I can’t find it :(

So I learned that specs really do matter, and it’s okay to be picky if the pickiness is going to make the difference between actually using a notebook or not. Things that are important to me in my notebooks:

Ruling (gotta have ruling, I can suffer through grid but blank or dot is a no-go)

Size (I can’t use anything smaller than at least a medium-large notebook, I find it claustrophobic and get miserly about page space)

Binding (twin ring is my preference because it looks and feels better than a classic spiral but has the same comfort of use with regards to bending the pages back to suit workspace size and laying flat with ease)

Paper quality and colour (I don’t like anything too slippery/smooth or with too much visible ghosting, and I strongly prefer an off-white paper to bleached paper--part of why I don’t use Decomposition Books anymore, the paper is scratchy and it’s too damn bleached!)

Pagecount relative to size of project

Portability (in non-COVID times; anything bigger than a B5 wouldn’t fit in the satchel I used to bring to work at my old job), etc.

But everyone’s taste is different in this respect, and the only way to figure out what works for you is through trial and error, I’m afraid. I also suspect I’m more neurotic and particular about the sensory experience of using a notebook than most people are, but I yam what I yam.

Now to talk about the notebooks for my current projects, where I’ve refined my approach somewhat. I’ve included less photos for these because they’re ongoing WIPs I don’t want to spoil completely, but I’ve tried to include some outline-type stuff to give you an idea.

My big bang fic is in the very ugly twin ring notebook on the right; I got it at a dollar store by my house because I needed something to work in and didn’t want to wait for an online order, but it’s been very serviceable for my needs. The paper isn’t even bad. The bigger notebook (B5) is my Sangcheng fic.

I wanted something with a lot of pages for this, because I knew it was going to be a long story, and for some reason the fact it’s smaller than my usual preference doesn’t bug me (I think it’s an A5?); it just fits this story, somehow. I’m not sure exactly how many sheets are in here but I’d guess about 150.

Because this notebook has upwards of 100 sheets, I made a lot of use of sticky-note tabs to label high-priority pages. The colour coding of these doesn’t mean anything, it was just whichever ones I had at hand at any given moment. These are those tabs from Muji I mentioned, I’m really obsessed with them--the shape makes them so much less obtrusive and more practical than conventional squares/rectangles OR flag shapes, IME.

My big bang story is nonlinear, so, similarly to what I did with colour coding for the two POVs for my GK fic, this story has two main colours corresponding to whether a given section takes place in the “before” or the “after” portions of the timeline, with blue as “after”, yellow as “before”. This is what the most current version of the outline looks like in there:

If you squint, you can see the alphanumeric notes in the top right of each section entry; I gave them each a code like “A3″ or “B5″ corresponding to their position in the story sequence (so, it goes A1, B1, A2, B2, etc., through to B9 and then the epilogue). [Unintentional that this schema overlaps with notebook size labeling and so is kind of confusing in the context of this post.] At first I was just keeping track of the sections via the highlighted titles, but it got confusing because I’d write down “Wedding” or “Yiling” in my notes and then refer to the notes later like “but there are multiple marriages?? and multiple scenes in Yiling??”. Stuff gets struck through with a straight line if it’s been written in a more-or-less complete form and crossed out with a squiggly line if it’s been cut from the outline or made redundant.

As I said earlier, I started out all the initial brainstorming for my Sangcheng fic in its notebook, instead of brainstorming it in someone’s DMs/my notes app/a voice memo/etc. and then transcribing it into the notebook in a somewhat more organized fashion, which is how my stories usually start out. Because of this, the first five-ish pages are basically just stream of consciousness rambling where I was trying to jot down every disconnected thought I had about the story concept. I don’t have photos for that because it’s too spoilerific for later developments in the fic, but I can show you some of the stages the outlines went through, once I was able to corral those initial notes into a story structure:

All the chapters in this fic have their own highlighter colour, so when I started trying to make sense of my initial brainstorm notes I just went through and highlighted stuff in the colour of the chapter it would make the most sense for, and then transcribed things more-or-less in chronological order into the relevant chapter outline. I later ended up rewriting all the chapter outlines AGAIN to refine them and divide them internally by the individual scenes, which makes them a lot more legible and less wall-of-text-y. They look like this now, with about four sheets per chapter:

Because this fic is on the longer side, I have some pages that are just for keeping track of other story elements, like this, where I refer back to whatever the fuck the “themes” are supposed to be whenever I forget what this fic is about:

It’s all about the visionboarding... Anyway, that’s most of what I have to offer, since most of these two notebooks is Forbidden Content.

With regards to brands/supplies, I really like this Kokuyo Campus Wide notebook that I’m writing Sangcheng in, it’s pretty perfect for me. I also like the B5 Muji twin rings, but those only come in 30 sheets, so I wouldn’t use it for anything above a ~20k project. The B5 Maruman Spiral Note 6.5mm ruled/80 sheet is another good one, though I wish it was twin ring instead of spiral. As you can tell, I like Japanese stationery brands because it’s easier to find decent paper quality and minimalist design without shelling out $$ than it is with American/European brands, at least IME. I like Rollbahns too. But honestly, I can usually find pretty serviceable random notebooks that aren’t brand-name from Asian dollar stores; it’s really not something where you need to shell out tons of money.

[searchingwardrobes]

The Convenient Groom: 6/13

I just want to apologize for how long it took to get such a short chapter out. You know that saying, “when it rains, it pours”? Well, that’s been me lately. On top of a procedure last week at the gynecologist (which was as fun as you would imagine), an elderly dog that is keeping us up at night like a newborn baby, and my kids taking turns falling off their bikes and requiring an obscene amount of band aids, yesterday we also lost our internet connection. So I was originally going to post this yesterday, but finally, here it is. (And it’s only 8 pm here, and I’m struggling to stay awake to do it.) It’s only a little over 1k, and frankly, not much happens, but our OTP has cute banter and are forced to display PDA, so there’s that . . . I feel like I’m not making any sense, so I’ll just post this already . . .

Summary: Killian Jones just happens to be there when Emma Swan gets the phone call that changes everything: her fiance is leaving her at the altar. The thing is, it could also mean the end of her career. Convenient that Killian has nothing better to do that day. Convenient that he’s secretly in love with her. Not that Emma has to know that. Written for @spartanguard​​ .

Rating: M

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @let-it-raines​ @teamhook​ @bethacaciakay​ @xhookswenchx​ @tiganasummertree​ @shireness-says​ @stahlop​ @scientificapricot​ @welllpthisishappening​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kday426​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @nikkiemms​ @distant-rose @optomisticgirl​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @carpedzem​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @branlovestowrite​​ @superchocovian​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​ @vvbooklady1256​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @winterbaby89​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​ @jennjenn615​​ @snidgetsafan​

Emma didn’t know why she was staring at him as he took a bite of the sandwich she’d made. It was just turkey meat from the deli with a slice of cheese and a piece of lettuce between two slices of bread slathered with mustard. Kind of hard to go wrong there. Except . . . well, people usually had a specific sandwich order, right? Like everyone took coffee a certain way or had a way they liked their eggs. Or at least, that was Richard Grere’s theory in Runaway Bride.

She had to stop with these rom-com cliches.

“I didn’t know how you like your sandwich,” she finally admitted, popping a chip in her mouth.

Killian swallowed and then wiped at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

“We had those sandwiches on the hon - er, the trip.”

Would either of them ever be able to refer to “the trip” as their honeymoon?

Emma shrugged. “Yeah, but they were just generic and then all the condiments and stuff were on the side.”

Killian nodded and leaned back in his chair, regarding her with that infuriating grin of his. “I like it just this way.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

He leaned forward. “Fair. Okay, you got it all right except I would have added pickles.”

Emma leaned forward as well, mimicking his serious expression. “What kind? Dill? Sweet? Gherkin?”

“Does it matter?”

Emma gasped and reared back. “Does it matter? Killian Jones, I don’t think we can be married if you think the kind of pickle doesn’t matter.”

He chuckled as he picked his sandwich back up. “Bread and butter.”

Emma nodded as she picked up hers.

“You, Swan?”

“Dill. There is no other kind of pickle.”

Killian arched a brow. “Agree to disagree?”

She gave him a dramatic nod as she “clinked” her sandwich with his. “As long as we keep both stocked in the pantry.”

“Done.”

They ate in silence for a few more minutes, until Emma noticed that Killian was fidgeting. He kept glancing from his phone, which sat on the patio table, then at her, then back again. He also began drumming his finger on the table while practically glaring at his phone.

“If you stare at that any harder, you’re going to burn a hole in it.”

“Hm?” he asked, gaze snapping back to her.

She gestured with her chin as she chewed and swallowed a bite of her sandwich. “Your phone. You keep staring at it.”

“Oh,” he chuckled nervously, picking up the object in question and clenching his jaw as he pressed his thumb to the screen, “it’s this text I got earlier. Elsa made a huge pot of that chowder last night, and she’s rather adamant that we join them for dinner tonight.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose. “Rather adamant?”

“Aye,” Killian answered apologetically as he palmed at the back of his neck.

Emma set her sandwich down and propped her elbows on the table. “You think we should go.”

He shrugged. “Well, we can’t avoid it forever, and the longer we wait, the more suspicious it will seem.”

“Hmm,” she mused, propping her chin in one hand, “or, they might assume that - like most newlyweds - we’re over here fucking our brains out all day long.”

Killian blinked rapidly, his face growing red. She found his discomfort at times incredibly amusing, especially considering the shameless way he had always flirted with her in the past. He stuttered for a moment, cleared his throat a few times, then found his voice.

“Well they’re my family, you see, and I know they won’t be put off for long. Liam’s already suspicious, I can tell, and then there’s the chowder -”

“Your sister-in-law is really hung up on this chowder, isn’t she?”

He spread his hands in front of him innocently. “What can I say? She’s won the blue ribbon three years running at the Storybrooke Crab Festival.”

Emma snorted out a laugh that died when she realized Killian wasn’t laughing. “Wait - are you serious?”

“About the blue ribbon part or the crab festival part?”

She shook her head. “I know about the crab festival, I remember it from last year. I just didn’t know there was a chowder competition.”

“We Mainers are very serious about our clam chowder, love.”

She barked out another laugh as he waggled his eyebrows at her, then she sighed. “Sure, dinner is fine. I mean, I do love clam chowder.”

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

Emma wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she agreed to dinner with Killian’s family, but this casual setting sure wasn’t it. Liam had lit the fire pit in their backyard which, like Killian’s, felt more like an extension of the beach. Everyone served themselves, then carried their bowls of chowder down the steps of the back deck. Cans of beer and softdrinks were crammed into coolers filled with ice, and a patio table nearby was spread with the fixings for s’mores later. It was more of a casual, beachside get together than a family dinner, and it made Emma feel much more at ease. Elsa and Anna were at her side from the beginning. Anna peppered her with questions, but Elsa was more quiet. Yet something about Elsa’s gentle smiles made Emma feel welcome.

“So,” Anna said as a grunt passed her lips. She wavered halfway down into a beach chair and began frantically waving for her husband. He rushed over and helped her heavily pregnant form down onto the seat. “As I was saying,” she chuckled, brushing strands of red hair out of her face, “how did you two manage this without any of us finding out?”

“Yes,” Liam quickly put in from across the fire pit, “I’ve been wondering the same.”

Emma caught Killian’s eye, and he quickly answered his brother for both of them. “Well, until a few months ago, as you all know, Emma lived in New York City. After months of chatting online, she agreed for me to meet her there.” He crossed the lawn to come stand at her side and put an arm around her. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you never once mentioned her,” Liam commented before taking a sip of the beer in his hand.

“Emma’s in the public eye, Liam,” Killian quickly explained before Emma could even open her mouth. “We didn’t think it would be a good idea. There would be way too much scrutiny on us.”

“We would never scrutinize you!” Kristoff insisted.

“Exactly,” Liam agreed.

“Yeah right,” Killian muttered into the mouth of his beer bottle before taking a swig. Only Emma heard him, and she pressed her face into his shoulder to muffle her laughter.

“And we would have kept it quiet,” Liam added.

Emma felt like she couldn’t put all this on Killian, so she jumped in. “Well we took it slow at first. We didn’t even want any of you to know, just in case nothing came of it. But then -”

“It was kind of exciting sneaking around,” Killian finished for her cheekily. He then surprised her by claiming her lips. It was a quick kiss, but far from chaste. She could taste the beer on his tongue as he swiped it quickly against hers. When he pulled away, she had to blink to get her bearings.

“You two are adorable!” Anna sighed.

“I don’t remember you driving to New York any more than usual in the past couple of years.” Liam had set down his beer and was crossing his arms as he narrowed his eyes at them.

“Oh Liam, stop,” Elsa admonished, smacking her husband in the arm, “they aren’t on trial here.”

“I’m just trying to understand how my brother fell in love, got engaged, then had a huge spectacle of a wedding without including any of us.”

“About that,” Emma said, clearing her throat, “we were wondering if 4th of July would work for the family ceremony. Killian said you all have a huge party that day anyway.”

“That sounds fantastic!” Anna cheered. “How can we help?”

Emma shrugged. “Honestly, I am so tapped out with planning one wedding, you can have free reign on this one.”

“Did you hear that, Elsa?” Anna asked, twisting in her chair to look at her sister.

Elsa laughed. “Emma, you may regret telling my sister that.”

“You never answered my question, you know,” Liam said stubbornly. “I don’t remember that many trips to the city.”

“Bloody hell, Liam!” Killian cried out. “I took the boat, if you must know. Elsa’s right, you’re acting like we’re on trial.”

“You like boating, Emma?” Liam asked.

“Uh, yeah, Killian got me hooked on it.” Emma’s head pounded as the lie slipped off her tongue. She hoped Liam didn’t start quizzing her on nautical terms or something. In actuality, the only boat she’d ever been on was one of those you paddled with your feet at that carnival Sarah took her to when she was fourteen. She’d never even taken the ferry in New York.

“Then we need to all go out on the Jewel sometime!”

Emma looked quizzically at Killian. “The Jewel?” “Aye love, that’s Liam’s boat. It’s a bit bigger than The Jolly Roger.” He leaned over as if to brush a kiss to her cheek, but instead turned his head to whisper in her ear. “The Jolly is mine.”

“Oh,” she said with a nod, “that sounds . . . fun.”

With bright eyes, Liam raised his beer bottle in salute. “It’s a date then!”

Emma faked a smile before taking a huge gulp of her beer. How many lies were going to pile up before this marriage blew up in their faces?

[novantinuum]

Bi the Way...

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen

Words: 2.8K~

Pairings: Steven/Connie

Summary: Connie has a question, and also something to say.

Or: the one where Connie comes out as bisexual :D Set post Steven Universe: The Movie.

You can find the AO3 link in the reblogs! (I have to omit it from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos on AO3 as well.

---

Bi the Way...

Outside the familiar coziness of Steven’s bedroom, the late autumn rain pours steadily, the choppy waters of the Atlantic crashing onto shore with a ferociousness Connie hasn’t seen for a number of months. Historically, Beach City has been blessed to be host to consistently good weather. But even the most consistently stable meteorological systems aren’t immune to the odd unexpected shake-up. It’s a necessity to clear the air with a great thunderous clap, sometimes. It relieves pressure that’s built up long term amongst the clouds. It leaves the atmosphere noticeably cleaner, the dirt below sparkling with that fresh scent that comes about after torrents of cool rain.

On this particular afternoon, she’s found that this is a lesson that holds just as true for people as it does the weather.

It begins with a stray comment, as things often do.

They’re watching TV, the two of them, tangled together on his bed. About once a week they’ll try to have one of these cuddle sessions, just some time alone together to relax and enjoy each other’s company in private. Working alongside a myriad of Gems to aid in the restructuring of an entire society can be excruciatingly stressful at points, and so can rigorous AP classes and the eye-rolling drudgery of high school drama. There’s no placing a hierarchy on these things for them, no matter their outward difficulty or importance, they’re all just... the challenges in life they have to win. And on occasion, they’re the challenges they need a quiet break from. Both of them are no stranger to throwing themselves at a problem and working endlessly towards a solution until they hit rock bottom and crash, but over the years they’ve started to recognize this tendency for the bad habit it is. It’s okay to take 'me' time, Connie’s constantly reminding Steven (and herself) whenever she catches him about to stubbornly sneak away to the galaxy warp with clear stress lines rimming his eyes. And without fail he’ll groan halfheartedly, knowing he’s been caught red-handed, and retire to his room to relax with a book or a board game or a few rounds of Lonely Blade: Resurgence instead.

Today’s workaholic distraction is a marathon of old Under the Knife episodes. It’s been a while since they’ve binged through this show, and when Steven brought it up and she started to feel super nostalgic about it, in a flash their entertainment for the afternoon was selected.

“Gosh, I honestly forgot how good this is,” he says in the middle of an episode, nudging her arm with his elbow. “The satirical nonsense, the passion, the drama? Eh?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty pulpy,” she giggles, nudging him right back. Then, directed at the unhearing characters on screen: “Ughh, Marigold, come on, just go out with him already! We all know you like him!”

“I can’t believe they kept this a slow burn for five entire seasons,” he comments, pursing his lips. “They’re literally perfect for each other!”

Connie throws her arms down against the mattress, palms stretched wide open. “I know, right?? Adrien’s like, a total dreamboat of a man.”

“Yeah, he is pretty cute,” Steven says, an unmistakable blush coloring his face and ears.

Connie pauses upon hearing this, gazing at her boyfriend thoughtfully with a soft smile as he continues to watch this old episode with the same level of investment he exhibited upon its first airing. He props his chin in the cradle of his hands, which of course only further exaggerates the curve of his chubby cheeks. His eyes are blown wide with youthful endeavor, the TV’s glow glinting against his irises in a myriad of continuously shifting colors. He is pretty cute, she thinks, his own adorably smitten words echoing through her mind. And then that blush...

There’s a question she’s had for quite a while but has never asked. Something she’s suspected of him, but had no concrete proof of. The reason? Even if they’re best friends, and now— boyfriend and girlfriend on top of that— the idea of asking him something like this just felt too... what’s the word... invasive. Not that there’s anything wrong with discussing this sort of stuff, no, no, of course not! That’s definitely not what she means. But talking about something as important as this, she just knows it would turn into an in-depth conversation, as most worldly topics tend to do with Steven Universe, and it’s only inevitable this conversation would eventually turn back on her. On why she cared to ask in the first place. And that answer was... well, straightforward, but something she’s not sure she’s ready to broadcast. As if she’s taken command of but a single fragment of Garnet’s future vision, in her restless mind she’s already mapped out what feels like every possible response he could have to her. Most of them are no more than anxiety laced fabrications, things he would never ever dare think of with his upbringing, but believe her when she says she’s been burdened with considering every possible outcome in great, excruciating length.

Now that she knows for sure there’s a strong chance he’s the same way, however... that narrows down these possibilities significantly.

Connie threads her fingers together, gathering the courage.

Come on, you. It’s just Steven. No script, no planning, just... say it!

She opens her mouth to speak before her anxiety laden mind can beg to differ.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask- do you like girls and guys?”

Steven glances away from the television set to meet her curiosity head on. “Oh, you mean like, romantically?”

Running in automatic, she nods in confirmation. Here she goes. The answer to both her spoken question, and the question of which river of possibility this conversation will careen down.

He grins, scratching at the side of his neck. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess I do! But I think I could like anyone, really. Guys, gals, none of the above. Doesn’t matter to me. That’s... okay, yes?”

“Silly, of course it’s okay! You don’t need my permission to like who you like. I just asked because I-“ Her heart pounds as she pauses briefly, focusing on the nervous jitters, but not in fear. Not anymore. Instead, that soft fluttering in her heart is nothing less than sheer exhilaration. She parts her lips once more, bravely speaking her inner truth into reality for the first time in her life. “I’m like that too. I... I’m bisexual.”

Her boyfriend’s whole expression lights up so bright she may as well be looking at a newborn star.

“Oh, really? That’s awesome!” he says, throwing an arm around her shoulder to side hug her. (Knowing him, his keen empathetic ability likely led him to sense the internal battle she waltzed through just to state this out loud.)

The forgotten soap opera continues to play in the background as Connie gives a bashful laugh.

“Hehe, glad you think so. You’re actually, um... the first person I’ve ever said that out loud to,” she says, blushing.

Steven looks as if he’s about to say something in response, but then he pauses— fades into a silence that’s deliberate and measured— as he gazes back at her. Drinks in the moment. Wonders how he could be so lucky to hold her trust like this, or how— heck, he could be thinking anything, she has no idea! Unlike him she can only catch small glimpses into how he feels, the truth woven like gossamer threads through his words and actions, but in this one hallowed moment she doesn’t need to guess. The spark of affection dancing within his dark eyes is soft, perhaps softer than he’s ever looked at her before.

More than anything, Connie feels seen. Years back, long before sword training and Gem missions, long before that fateful day she discovered the beautiful temple (it looked like it could very well be a Hindu goddess, and that cultural connection alone made this slice of beach instantly familiar) hidden on the other side of the hill and decided to park herself there with a book, she’d grown used to feeling invisible. Before she bravely chose to step into this world of magic, it’s as if she forgot that she even had a choice to stand out, to openly shine as the unique, extraordinary individual she is. Admittedly, she still struggles with that to this day. But whenever she’s with him, with her Steven? It’s as if her universe explodes into a kaleidoscope of dizzying color where everything is so, so beloved and worthwhile. She’s worthwhile.

She can only hope being with her makes him feel the same way.

“I know it’s silly after everything we’ve been though,” she continues in time, still having a few things on her mind she suddenly has an exhilarating need to set free, “but I always kinda worried that people... would belittle me for it, I guess. Especially my parents. That like, there’s some upper limit to the number of unusual things about my life they’ll accept.”

“It’s not that unusual, though,” Steven says with a shrug. “I mean, Ruby and Sapphire are legally married. Sure, the Gems aren’t exactly women, but they do present that way. And then Pearl was in love with Mom, of course. Oh, and Amethyst once told me, and I quote, that ‘like a whip, I swing in every direction.’”

Connie snorts at this, and even he can’t help but laugh.

“Let’s see, what else...” he muses, peering at the ceiling thoughtfully as he continues to list the queer individuals he knows of. “Jenny, Buck, and Sour Cream are all dating each other. Mr. Smiley finally reconnected for real with his old comedy partner, and they’re dating. And my dad may not be seeing anyone but he’s always been openly pansexual.”

“Well, it’s not usual in my family,” she says glumly, nestling her chin into his bed’s comforter as the terrifying possibility of rejection hits her harder than expected. Her glance roams. On the television screen, the episode they were watching had paused automatically, a message asking if they’re still there popping up. Clearly it’s been a while since anyone’s handled the remote. She blinks past tears, shame settling at the pit of her stomach for even daring to cry them when others have gone through so much worse, and you’re lucky, what do you even have to feel lost about, and suddenly she begins to feels shameful just for feeling shame, and what cyclical, bittersweet irony is that, and what’s wrong with her, why can’t she stop obsessing over distant possibilities that likely have zero chances of coming to pass, why can’t she—

Steven breaks through her downward spiral with a gentle hand on her shoulder, rubbing away the physical evidence of her stress. She melts into his touch, forever smitten by this kind of casual intimacy they get to experience together here, alone. It’s innocent, still merely the wandering hands of two teenagers barely beginning to break the boundaries between close friendship and romance, but when words fail she’s discovered that touch can be a language of its own. And right here, right now, she knows he’s talking her down from the mountain of anxiety she’s marooned herself on. He’s leapt effortlessly into the stormy sky and cradled her in his arms, ready to float back to Earth’s surface together.

Outside, the rain continues to slap in rhythmic sheets against the deck. She shivers. Maybe it’s in reaction to the gloomy weather beyond the sliding glass door, maybe it’s despite it. She has no idea.

Steven scoots forward on his belly a bit, and rolls to his side so they can talk face to face without turning their heads. During this, his shirt rides up— ever so slightly— ambient light catching on the lower facets of his gem. The reassurance found in that beautiful, familiar smile of his is dizzying. “Well, at least no matter what happens with your family, you have more than one, huh?“ he says.

“Yeah,” she breathes shakily, eyes glistening with emotion at the metaphorical hand he’s extending with that statement.

Hopefully it’ll never have to come to that, though.

“I do think my parents will be fine with it, if I ever do tell them,” she continues, dabbing the dampness from her eyes. “Especially my mom. She works with queer patients all the time at the hospital, so she’s pretty used to stuff like that. I just... get anxious sometimes.”

“Yeah, I get that. It’s tough dealing with identity stuff.”

She hums, mind immediately harking to the years he spent doubting his own personhood. Seeking any kind of physical connection she can get, she nuzzles her cheek against his forearm, which he’s currently leaning on. They lay there like that in comfortable silence for a good while. Steven, laying on his side, one hand lazily trailing through her wavy hair, and her, curled up close to his heartbeat, hugging his free arm.

“Hey, while we’re on the topic, can I ask you something?” he asks eventually.

She nods. “Anything.”

“How’d you distinguish bi from pan, when you were figuring all this out? I know they’re pretty similar, and my dad tried to explain it a while ago when I asked, but I still don’t exactly get the nuances.”

Connie shifts to sit up, pursing her lips as she considers her words here. She’s done a lot of research into queer identity in her time, checking out books from the school library and looking up stuff online on incognito mode, but there’s probably still a ton of holes in her knowledge. “Hmm, okay... so I’m no sole authority on any of this of course, but to the best of my knowledge bi means you’re attracted to two or more genders, and pan means you’re attracted to people, but like... their gender isn’t really a factor in the way you experience that at all? I‘m pretty sure? There seems to be a lot of overlap. From what I’ve read people just sorta pick whatever feels the best to them.”

“Huh, that makes sense,” Steven says. “So picking labels is kinda like fusion, then! Whenever I fuse, we decide our own name, and it’s sorta... based on a feeling, y’know?”

“Yeah! And like, with Stevonnie... Even though Amethyst kinda inspired the name, they still had to figure out who they were as a person on their own.”

“Exactly! And then, even if two fusions are made of the same gem types, they could still have different names because they’re different people, and that’s what they choose. Anyways, that’s just what this reminded me of,” he says, glancing up at her with a bashful smile. “Honestly... I don’t actually know how I identify.”

The corner of her lips edge upwards. “That’s fine,” she reassures him with a pat, “it took me a while to sort through all this stuff.”

“I really wanna figure it out, have a word for it, but nothing’s clicked yet. For a while I thought I was pansexual like my dad, but that didn’t quite... feel right. Like—“ he too shifts to sit up, folding his feet under his legs as he continues to speak— “I love getting to kiss you, but no offense, I don’t... know if I'll ever want to have- to do anything more than that, y’know?”

She snickers at his inability to simply say the word sex. He’s seventeen now, he knows full well what that is, yet still his faux innocence on the matter remains. It’s one of his charms.

“None taken. Love and attraction is a bizarre, complicated world.”

“You can say that again.”

“Bogus.”

“Whack,” he agrees with a playful grin. Reaching for the remote, he presses play a few times to wake up their streaming site. The episode starts up right where it left off, and they continue to watch together, the air somehow feeling sweeter after her much needed release of emotion.

The satirical medical drama quickly fades into the background, though, as Steven’s hand curls around hers.

“Hey,” he says quietly, blushing. “Even if I don’t know everything about labels yet, I do know one thing for sure.”

She raises a curious brow. “What?”

“I know I love you.”

And before she can open her mouth to respond in kind, he’s kissing her cheek, swooping in like a bandit just like she did for the first time all those months ago, and her heart swells with affection for this boy. He leaves her with one kiss, then two. At the exact moment she turns her head to reciprocate— to sneak a gentle kiss to his cheek right back— he turns as well and she ends up meeting him at the lips. It’s but a quick peck, but she's almost floating. The two of them stifle a laugh as they gaze at each other, their noses almost brushing together.

“Hey, it stopped raining,” he comments then, grinning against her cheek.

She drapes her arms around his shoulders, and hugs him close. Her eyes trail to the glass sliding door. The clouds outside are still thick, but after releasing their load they’re visibly lighter now.

“Yeah,” she breathes, feeling her muscles finally relax as she sinks into her best friend’s embrace. “Yeah, I guess it finally has.”

[lalka-laski]

1. If you won an all-expenses paid trip to anywhere in the world for a one week vacation, where would you choose to go? Poland or Iceland

2. How often do you get notifications on your favorite social media site? Entirely too often. But I can't help it that I'm so popular *hair flip* Just kidding- it's usually the same 2 or 3 people tagging me in ridiculous memes.

3. When was the last time you had a headache? Do you know what caused it? Right now kind of. We can thank my lovely menstrual cycle for this!

4. What’s something you’re actively trying to forget/care less about, if anything? I've been having some body image & body envy issues lately that can debilitate me at times. Looks like I need to hit my Self-Esteem Workbook a little harder... ha 5. What was the last encounter you had with a bug? Ummm prob a few days ago?

6. If your favorite food became very scarce, what’s the most amount of money you’d pay to eat it? For the sake of this question I'll narrow my favorite food down to pizza. And in that case, I'd probably drain my entire bank account for a slice.

7. Is there someone (specifically or generally) you feel uncomfortable texting or speaking with over the phone? I don't like talking on the phone in general, with anyone.

8. What is something you tend to take personally? E V E R Y T H I N G

9. When was the last time you felt like you were “starting fresh”? Last week when I did a rampant clean of my apartment. (It's since gone to shit, if you were wondering...)

10. Do you have any characters from a movie, book, or tv show that you can’t stand? If so, any reason why? Any character Zooey Deschanel (sp?) plays. I will just never understand her appeal. Glenn loves New Girl but knows only to watch it when I'm not home and/or asleep because my disdain for her is THAT deep.

11. What is something considered “childish” that you still like or enjoy doing? Disney Princesses, coloring books & crayons (keep your "adult" coloring book nonsense), stickers, juice boxes...

12. Name a song that you have a strong emotional connection to. Why is that song so important to you? Silver Lining by David Gray

13. Are you someone who needs to get rid of notifications on your phone, or do you not care? YES they drive me bananas

14. What does your ideal 3 course meal consist of? UGH I'm gonna spend way too much time pondering this question and plotting my perfect meal. For appetizers I love anything from your classic chips & dip, to a more refined samosa or some baked brie. My main course would either be falafel or a pizza (can't help myself), and for dessert probably creme brulee ice cream.

15. What do you like, or dislike, about dressing up? I like the ritual/excitement of it and I like how it makes me feel until the second I step outside/see another girl/catch my reflection in the mirror. Then I hate the fact that every time I put effort into my appearance it feels wasted & I never look as good as I hope. (Ok, I REALLY should crack open that self-esteem workbook...)

16. What was the last thing that annoyed you? I've got my moon sickness & my symptoms are tenfold this cycle because it's my first period post-vaccine. So everything's a shitshow right now.

17. How often do you spend time with your family? I see them at least once a week but I usually see Kathleen more frequently. I'm having a sleepover with her tonight actually!

18. How do you feel about texting someone twice in a row, or more? I have no shame! I mean I try not to be annoying but there's some people who are close enough that I don't mind.

19. When was the last time you held yourself back from doing or saying something? Why did you do this? Yesterday I was very on-edge & almost snapped on Glenn a couple of times but restrained myself. I'm glad I did though because my irritation had nothing to do with him. He just happened to be in the wake of it.

20. Who’s wedding did you last attend? My friend Sarah's a couple years ago. It's been too long! I need another wedding dammit!

21. Are you someone who is more likely to take things as they come, or to look for deeper meanings in things? I love to look for deeper/hidden meanings & I like to think that I look at life's bigger picture and purpose.

22. Where is the most unusual place you’ve fallen asleep at? Pretty much anywhere and everywhere. I have a gift.

23. If your car broke down in the middle of nowhere, and you were by yourself, how do you think you would handle the situation? If you don’t drive, what if you were on a bus that broke down in the middle of nowhere? I’d call an Uber and if there were none available, I'd call my dad.

24. Do you find yourself funny? I do! I think I'm clever but I'm not quick enough to be considered "witty." I wish my timing was faster.

25. What was the last thing to disappoint you? This damn period! Oh, and the ending to the last book I finished. It was too whimsical & not conclusive enough.

[scentedglitter]

thanks for the tag @heartbroken-handshakes​ :) I’m usually super quiet and never talk to anyone on Tumblr so it is very rare for me to be tagged in something like this but yes ty! 

rules: answer the questions in a new post and tag 5 blogs you would like to get to know better

a - age: 20

b - birthplace: a small-ish town in northern Victoria, Australia.

c - current time: 11:30am exactly (i am half-doing this and half-doing other things though so it’ll be way after this by the time i post it...)

d - drink you last had: I literally drank a glass of water between answering c and typing this, so that! I am very much a water-drinking person. The annoying kind that tells everyone else to drink more water, too.

e - easiest person to talk to: maybe my uni friend Jane? She’s v cool and we can talk for ages.

f - favorite song: this is a very difficult question for me bc I have 6000+ songs in my iTunes and I love most of them... but my blog is titled after “The Great Escape” by Pink, so probably that.

f - favorite food: look this is indeed an impossible question but I can probably narrow it down to two: double coat tim tams and a specific variety of peach (T304) that is only grown near my hometown

g - grossest memory: one time in year 7/age 13 my Dad dropped me off at school but as I was getting out of the car the door blew back and jammed my thumb in it and it was an extremely sharp door edge and sliced my thumb open so ofc I passed out like three times, Dad was late to work, I had bandaging on my finger for weeks and it destroyed my nailbed so that nail is still weird and doesn’t grow properly today

h - horror yes or horror no:  tbh I just find it a bit silly a lot of the time? not really my thing

i - in love?: nope

j - jealous of people?: sometimes I guess?

l - love at first sight or should I walk by again?: look you can probably be attracted to someone at first sight but ~love~ implies something of an emotional connection

m - middle name: jane.

n - number of siblings: 2 younger brothers. They’re twins.

o - one wish: to somehow find a well-paying but low-stress job next year that can fit in with my study schedule...

p - person you called last: technically, my physiotherapist... I don’t call people much.

q - question you are always asked: “what are you studying?”. Sometimes by people that have already asked that question many time.

r - reason to smile: submitted a 3000-word essay early this morning and now I can actually take today off!

s - song you last sang: I’ve got my iTunes playing alphabetically constantly at the moment - it’s been going whenever I’m in my room for over a week and it’s only at C. “Crystal Ball” - Pink is playing right now but I think the last one I was singing along to was “Cruel” - The Veronicas?

t - time you woke up: 4am. It’s very quiet in a university dorm building at 4am on a public holiday.

u - underwear colour: literally just tan today

v - vacation destination: hopefully vacation + exchange trip to canada next year? maybe i’ll try and end up on a beach somewhere this summer too? don’t really know, I’m not even sure which state I’ll be living in november-january yet oops

w - worst habit: not taking asthma meds... which, like, sometimes is totally fine but they’d work better when i do need them if i took them all the time oops

x - x-rays: had a couple on my back to try and work out if there’s anything actually causing this lovely chronic pain thing I’ve had going on for the last few years

z - zodiac sign: pisces and sceptical of zodiac signs in general

As aforementioned I’m not super social on Tumblr so PLS FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THE TAG IF IT’S WEIRD I’m’a tag some people who I always see in my activity/reblog from a bit or kind of already know but haven’t properly talked to for years and by that I mean @withdrawnheart​

Also @greyunicorrrn​ @learningtoloveyourz @be-the-oneyou-really-are

I’m still missing one person so I’m going to add in @ophicus even though I went to a movie with her yesterday