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myfairstarlight · 4 months ago

Text

Facing The Hurdle

AO3 Link.

Rated: E

Length: 5k

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington

Canon-compliant

Based on my own post here. Small 03x08 rewrite with a little more Debling (and extending that last intimacy scene as well).

Summary:

“You have the face of a tortured man, whose wedding night did not happen.” Colin glares. “Careful of the words you speak, Debling.” “Much like you should have been careful with your actions?” Debling counters. The reminder of the interrupted dance has Colin tense. “I wanted to be the honourable man, Bridgerton, but if you have changed your mind, then rest assured I will not let Penelope slip through my fingers, for she remains the only kindred spirit I found in this dreadful city. I may not be able to offer her love, but perhaps security and comfort shall be enough if that is what love looks like.” The gentleman raises his glass and then dares to set it down on the table without taking a single sip. Or. Colin already has enough to deal with without Lord Alfred bloody Debling waltzing back into his space and pointing out how miserable he looks.

*additional notes on ao3.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

The morning following their wedding night, and after having breakfast at Bridgerton's house, Colin had taken his time to come home, aware Penelope and her mother were most likely still having tea, so it was a surprise to walk into the drawing room and see Lord Debling having tea with his wife instead.

He can feel Rae's judgemental stare as he freezes on the spot at the sight.

“Colin!” Penelope exclaims, and she is making a valiant effort to sound delighted and besotted in front of Debling. “That was rather quick, you are done with your business at Bridgerton house?”

“One can only be away from his newly-wedded wife for so long after all,” he says smoothly, considering the company they currently have, and is thoroughly crushed when Penelope only gives him a perplexed look, reminiscent of the one she gave him some weeks ago when he first came back from his travels. He clears his throat. “I thought you would be having tea with your mother?”

At that, he pointedly looks at Debling who barely hides his satisfied smile with a sip.

“Lady Featherington left a few moments ago quite in a hurry, as for me, I simply wished to extend my congratulations. I apologise for not coming to the engagement party or the wedding. I had some preparations to make for my upcoming journey, but I did truly appreciate the invitation. For both.”

Colin smiles wryly at the barely hidden resentment, while Penelope looks quite confused. Colin had insisted on inviting Debling, even under Kate's and his mother's disapproving stares — he could not help being a little bit petty.

“I thought you were eager to find a wife?” Penelope asks, probably recalling their quick courtship. “How come you are already leaving?”

“Unfortunately, I fear no other debutante could compare, Mrs Bridgerton, and I have come to the conclusion that perhaps, it is better for my bloodline to end here. It brings me morbid joy to imagine my parents’ fury at the idea that a commoner might become the next Lord Debling upon my death.”

“How grim!” Penelope gasps, almost reaching out a comforting hand only to hold herself back at Colin clearing his throat.

“Miss Cowper seemed taken with you, though,” Colin points out. “It seems hardly necessary for you to come to such… extreme thoughts.”

Debling gives him a look. “I understand you do not hold me in great regard but do not wish such a fate on me, Mr Bridgerton.”

Colin has to physically bite the inside of his mouth to avoid chortling at the man’s retort. For all his odd particularities, Colin has to admit that this lord has some wits to him and he can understand why Penelope— do not finish that thought.

“I will not intrude further in your honeymoon,” Debling says, but the tone in his voice feels quite pointed, and Colin instinctively stands closer to Penelope. “Good day.”

“Good day, Lord Debling.” Penelope curtsies.

Colin, quite rudely perhaps, does not say anything, and simply watches the man leave, making sure to hear the door close behind him.

“I need to talk to you,” his wife says afterwards, “but I need Eloise and my mother there as well. Mother left to fetch you, but I did not know you would already be on your way.”

“Hold on, are we not going to talk about you welcoming your almost-fiancé into our home?”

“I would rather discuss Cressida blackmailing me.”

“What?!”

(The conversation that follows leaves Colin more lost than he already was, with the knowledge of the fortune Penelope has gathered over the years that surpasses his inheritance. It makes him question further why she would ever choose a man like him.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

And so Colin learns that Cressida had visited Penelope just before Lady Featherington arrived for tea. Penelope and her mother had then decided to go straight to Bridgerton house but Lord Debling showed up, halting their plan, so Lady Featherington excused herself while Penelope stayed to entertain the gentleman.

It makes Colin feel worse. All of this is because he left the house so hastily in the morning instead of staying. Cressida would not have even dared to blackmail his wife if he had been there.

This is yet another example of the way he cannot even properly protect her.

And on top of that, his mind remains stuck on the image of Debling and Penelope having a pleasant conversation over tea as if Cressida had not just upended their lives and safety. A treacherous thought festers in his mind — would everyone have been happier, had he not intervened in their courtship?

Just like everything would have been better if he hadn’t gone to the Cowper’s house and made everything worse? He could not get Eloise’s judgemental glare, nor Penelope’s tired and disappointed expression out of his head as he admitted his failure. He should have known that you cannot reason with Cressida Cowper.

And now, Penelope has all but told him to leave her alone!

Well, not really. He has spent the last few days ruminating in his office, going over how to amass the amount of money Cressida is now demanding, and it is now John’s last night as a bachelor, for he and Francesca will wed the next day in a small ceremony at Bridgerton house. Colin is supposed to be supporting his future brother-in-law, the way Benedict currently is, enthusiastically sharing all that he knows about Francesca’s favourite hobbies. Penelope did have to push him out of the house, saying how suspicious it would be if he did not go out and how he should not neglect his family duties with an absent tone to her voice, as if she was not a part of said family.

Fortunately, John is much too anxious, and Benedict is much too intoxicated to notice Colin’s distracted attitude as he swirls the liquid in his glass without ever taking a sip. With his tortured mind, a mix of anger, shame, disappointment, and longing, he is more than aware that a drink may just make things worse when he comes back home.

He sighs. He loves Penelope, and she loves him in turn. It is a truth in this world, just as the sky is blue and the grass is green. Colin wishes it would make all of this easier. If he cared any less, his heart would not be so heavy.

Suddenly, someone sits next to him and he stiffens.

“Bridgerton.”

“Debling,” he hisses in response.

“Out of the house alone, still so soon after the wedding?”

“I am hardly alone, simply supporting my future brother-in-law—” Colin cuts himself off as he realises John and Benedict have somehow vanished from the table while he was ruminating in his thoughts. “Ah well, they must have gone to get more drinks.”

“Meanwhile your glass remains full.”

“And yours is empty.”

Debling refills his glass right away, with a bottle he retrieves from under the table before he speaks once more:

“You have the face of a tortured man, whose wedding night did not happen.”

Colin glares. “Careful of the words you speak, Debling.”

“Much like you should have been careful with your actions?” Debling counters. The reminder of the interrupted dance has Colin tense. “I wanted to be the honourable man, Bridgerton, but if you have changed your mind, then rest assured I will not let Penelope slip through my fingers, for she remains the only kindred spirit I found in this dreadful city. I may not be able to offer her love, but perhaps security and comfort shall be enough if that is what love looks like.” The gentleman raises his glass and then dares to set it down on the table without taking a single sip.

Colin clears his throat, stalling his answer to make sure he does not end up growling like an animal at the man.

(Although, for all of Debling’s eccentricities regarding nature, it would probably not be efficient as an intimidation tactic anyhow.)

“You would almost fool me into thinking you hold some kind of affection for my wife despite your insistence that you only sought a marriage of convenience.”

Debling smiles. “I merely worry about her like a friend should, Mr Bridgerton. A woman of such wit and warmth? No gentleman shall sit back if her light is threatened to go out because of the company she keeps, do you not agree?”

Colin does not answer. He feels berated like a child.

“You were going to leave her, with the family you do not like,” is what he can say after a moment. “You have no leg to stand on.”

Debling falters slightly before he nods. “My research is too important, and she knew that when we started our courtship. I did not wish to interfere, unlike you. But now that I see the outcome, I do wonder if I was too hasty in my decision to withdraw my proposal after the humiliation you descended upon me. Your wife was lovely as ever while we had tea, however, she was missing that bright spark in her eyes. Something was troubling her.”

“Stay away from my affairs, Lord Debling.”

“Perhaps you should have stayed away from mine, then, Mr Bridgerton.” He downs his drink swiftly. “As I've already told Mrs Bridgerton, I will be leaving in a month. If anything changes during that time, she knows who to write to.”

Soon enough, Colin is left pondering alone, glaring at the table.

He does not wait for his brothers to come back and promptly leaves.

(This time he takes a carriage ride, rather than walk home to clear his head. He would rather not pass by the modiste again and feel Madame Delacroix’s knowing gaze judging his every step.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

As soon as he comes home, he sits at his desk, fiddling with his quill, trying to sort through his feelings.

It does not sound as if you hate Whistledown. You sound as if you are jealous of her.

As I've already told Mrs Bridgerton, I will be leaving in a month. If anything changes during that time, she knows who to write to.

He almost breaks the quill as Cressida’s and Debling’s voices taunt his mind. A derisive laugh escapes his lips — these two would be quite the pair, he thinks, the two people he despises so, at least they would be far from his mind and Cressida would have all the money she needs, leeching off Debling’s fortune while the man is out of the country anyway. Why couldn’t Debling bring everyone out of this misery and marry the wretched woman?

Well, perhaps he is being a little unfair.

When he sees Rae leave the bed chamber, Colin waits for a few more instants to make sure Penelope is in bed and if not sleeping, at least pretending to be, before he makes his way inside.

Because he is the unluckiest man, or perhaps the luckiest if the circumstances were any different, Penelope is decidedly not asleep. He freezes in his steps as Penelope stands there, illuminated by the gentle fire of a candle. She was reading something and jumped slightly at his sudden entrance. Lord forbid, Colin’s eyes immediately fall on her breasts at the movement, almost in full display with the low cut of her nightgown, and the way they rise and fall as her breathing increases. Colin swallows, eyes travelling up to her exposed neck, the way her fiery hair cascades down the other shoulder, how her full and pink lips are forming words he does not hear.

How unfair it is, that he has been blessed with such a siren of a wife, and yet that insufferable, honourable side of him refuses to indulge, such like a sailor who refuses to fall for her songs and worship her at her feet, while there is still this barrier between them.

“I—” he winces at the way his voice cracks. “I just need a blanket for the settee,” he manages to get out.

Penelope blinks. “Right. Um, of course.”

Colin flees after that, heart racing and hands sweaty.

Great. He was already tortured by his enemies’ words — granted, “enemies” may be an exaggeration — and now he is lusting for his wife but cannot act on it because of his treacherous mind. An odd conundrum to have.

(It is safe to say that Morpheus did not embrace him in his arms that night.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

The next day, after a quiet morning sorting through his feelings and dozens of pages of written loving words, Colin keeps one of Penelope’s letters safely tucked inside his breast pocket when he hops on a lonely carriage to Bridgerton house. Penelope is not there yet when he arrives, and he catches his mother’s surprised look as well as Eloise’s knowing one.

Fortunately, he is spared from giving an explanation to his mother as she quickly is distracted by a maid telling her Francesca is almost ready. Eloise, on the other hand, takes this opportunity to pull him aside, within his old study.

“Spill,” she says as soon as the door closes behind them.

“You already know everything, Eloise.”

“I meant about Lord Debling visiting Penelope.”

Immediately, Colin’s mood sours once more. “You know about that?” Of course she would know, Penelope probably told her.

“Yes! Why are you upset?” Eloise asks, genuine confusion on her face. “You visited your ex-fiancée and her husband was most welcoming, if I recall correctly.”

“Not so soon after her wedding! And anyhow, I knew their marriage was not out of love.”

“Perhaps that is how Debling sees your marriage then? And frankly, you came to the house the morning after your wedding, you cannot blame him, he probably expected you there when he visited, not Penelope alone. What was your reason for visiting Lady Crane?”

“Well— closure. Which was clearly not his intention.” If the way he was ogling his wife on his way out was anything to go by…

Eloise makes a face he cannot describe, something between disappointment and astonishment. “Can I ask you something without you yelling at me?”

“I cannot guarantee that,” he answers honestly.

“Fine. If you had known she was Whistledown before, would you still have interrupted their courtship?”

The question feels like a bucket of freezing water thrown at his face. Eloise looks at him with expectant, yet knowing eyes as she waits for an answer she already suspects.

“Yes,” he answers eventually and Eloise smiles. “Yes I would have still done it, without hesitation because I—”

He gets interrupted by a knock on the doors.

“Your wife's arrived,” Benedict's voice informs them through the door. “Yes, I'm talking to both of you.”

“Ha! You bet if it had been an actual option, I would have stolen her from you long ago,” Eloise jests, making Colin roll his eyes and shove her towards the door.

“I'm not so sure, you were preoccupied by Cressida Cowper for a year,” he replies.

At that, Eloise stiffens and makes a face, somewhere between disgust and guilt. Colin simply ruffles her hair, to make sure she understands he does not mean it as an actual attack.

At least not this time. A part of him still cannot help but be a little petty on Penelope’s behalf, since his wife seems to have moved past that situation so rapidly.

“Come on,” he says as he opens the door on Benedict who smiles dopily at them. For a man who claims to not desire to settle down for a good while still, he sure always looks delighted when a wedding is around the corner. “Another day of celebration awaits us, shall we?”

(Penelope pulls him aside after the wedding, tells him her plan, and asks him to support her and his resolve breaks. She holds his hands, resting them against her stomach, but she says nothing more. Colin bends down to rest his forehead against hers. There is understanding, at last, in the silence.

Another day of celebration, indeed.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Colin feels like he can finally breathe as the Queen takes her leave, and the butterflies are freed into the ballroom, filling the place with childish glee rather than scornful whispers. He catches his sister-in-law’s eyes from a distance and smiles gratefully at her. Philippa grins wide and winks before she points behind him with a wary look. Colin frowns. Then he understands why.

“Debling,” he greets as he turns around and sees the lord making his way to him, hands joined behind his back.

“Bridgerton,” Debling answers, his tone lighter, friendlier, even, than the last time they spoke. He nods his head towards Penelope, who’s currently occupied in a conversation with Lady Danbury. “What a woman.”

“You will not find me disagreeing here. My wife is quite the woman, even more so than I thought when I proposed.”

“So you were not aware of her identity this whole time,” the blond gentleman notes. “That explains it, then, the odd distance between you two. I apologise for implying you were lacking in your husband duties.”

Colin is not about to admit the man was right in his assumption that they have not technically consummated the marriage. So he simply shrugs with a self-indulgent smile.

“I was never one interested in gossip but after picking up a few issues, I have to admit Whistledown wrote about it in a way that compels you and makes you question this very Ton. I still would have proposed, I believe, if I had known. And if you hadn’t intervened,” Lord Debling says.

“I am very glad I did, then. Stop looking at her,” Colin hisses, rather pettily.

Debling snorts, though he finally tears his eyes away from Penelope to look at him with an air of playful challenge, not unlike the way Benedict and Anthony appear when they goad him while they fence.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr Bridgerton.”

“I know.” And he shall tell her so as soon as he can.

A side-look. “It seems Mrs Bridgerton is unoccupied once more. I will leave you to it, for good this time, do not worry.” Colin nods at his words, refusing to admit the relief he feels upon hearing these words. “Expect my letters, however.”

“Your what—”

Debling swiftly walks away without further explanation, and Colin has half a mind to go after him and tell him to not write to his wife when said wife comes into his line of vision and he gets distracted once more.

And so, as they lock eyes, Colin confidently walks towards his future.

(They end up leaving the ball rather early. Especially because he had to prove to his wife how against any annulment he is.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Colin cannot keep his hands off her, and the way Penelope melts under his touch is telling him to never, ever, let go again. However, as they stumble into their bed chamber, the moon’s light peaking through the curtains, Penelope pulls away, grabbing his hands before he can pull her dress down.

“Wait,” she whispers.

“You’re asking a lot out of me here, Pen,” he whines, unashamed of his desperation. She chuckles, pulling at his cravat.

“I have the feeling we will not be leaving this bed for a while, and I need to remove all this makeup lest I look like a mess once you are done with me.”

Colin smiles. “That is the best part, making you my mess. And you always look beautiful.”

“Hush, you. Be a dear, undress and wait for me? I swear I will make it worthwhile.”

“Mm. Fine,” he relents, stealing one last kiss from those cherry-red lips. “Anything for my wife.”

And so he lets her slip through his fingers.

In the meantime, he lights the candles on the bedside tables before drawing the curtains properly close. He undresses himself with no urgency, leaving his clothes on the settee.

And then he collapses into the bed. As his back hits the softness of the sheets, he lets out a relieved groan — God, his back has needed this, sleeping on a settee too small for him for the past week has been as much hell physically as it has been hell mentally to keep himself from touching Penelope.

He stretches, making himself comfortable as he catches a whiff of Penelope’s scent clinging to the cushions. A smitten smile overtakes his lips.

Oh, this is heaven.

Except he is proven wrong a mere moment later as the doors open, revealing Penelope, in all of her bare-faced beauty, her fiery locks now free, gently cascading down her right shoulder. Now that is heaven. A vision in aquamarine green, Penelope slowly walks towards the bed, her nightgown flowing gracefully at every step like the waves on a peaceful night out at sea. Colin is stricken for a moment, as flashes of his dreams come back to his mind. He sits up just as Penelope reaches the bed and he wastes no time grabbing her hand, pulling her on top of him, touching her, to make sure this is his reality.

She yelps at the sudden movement but recovers quickly as she manoeuvres herself so she sits on top of him, her thighs framing his hips, so close to where he needs her to be.

“How I missed you,” he whispers hoarsely, hands roaming her luscious curves through the fabric of her gown, slowly making their way down. “I need to taste you.”

He suddenly recalls conversations he’s had with Anthony, who, in his marital bliss, did not lose his lewd tongue, sharing what he and Kate can be up to in their chambers with no shame whatsoever. Colin and Benedict would playfully yell at him because they did not need to picture their new sister-in-law and their brother in bed but Colin still listened, a little bit curious, and he was quite intrigued to learn that the very reason an heir hadn’t been produced earlier is because Anthony quite enjoys using something else to bring his wife pleasure.

Penelope smiles sweetly, leaning in for a kiss and Colin indulges for a moment before he pulls away, chuckling at her whine at the action.

“Why are you pulling away now?” she complains, already trying to dive back in.

“I wish to try something a bit different.” And truth be told, something he never tried before at all. “There’s… another way, I can bring you pleasure.”

Penelope tilts her head. “Another?”

Oh dear, they do not tell ladies anything, do they?

“Lie down for me?” he asks.

Swiftly, Penelope does just that, now lying down on his right, lifting her arms, ready to embrace him again in this new position. Colin smiles at her eagerness, settling on top of her, a hand lifting the fabric of her robe so his hand can settle on her bare thigh. Penelope shivers under his touch, opening her legs, and inciting him closer.

Colin leans down, peppering kisses along the side of her neck. “It may… feel odd,” he confesses against her skin. “So please do tell me if you are uncomfortable.”

“Of course,” she readily agrees. “You said you wanted to taste. Does that mean you’ll…” She licks her lips in place of finishing her sentence, and Colin grins at her quick thinking. That’s his clever wife.

“Precisely,” he confirms. “May I?”

She nods, eyes remaining on him.

Trying to rein in his nervousness, he reaches for Penelope’s hand, intertwining their hands together and then resting them below her breasts as he slides down, peppering kisses all over the patches of skin he can reach in his wake. He feels her shudder in anticipation, hand squeezing his as he inches closer and closer.

Finally, he is face to face with her sex, already glistening and wet, just for him. His eyes lock on Penelope once more and she squeezes his hand with a nod. Sweet permission.

And with this, Colin gets his first taste after weeks of starvation.

Penelope gasps, quickly followed by a moan she doesn't even try to stifle as she feels Colin’s tongue carefully prod at the folds of her lips, exploring every inch. She cannot look away, Colin is relentless in his ministrations, brow furrowed like a man on a mission to make her see stars. She reaches with her free hand to run it through his hair, wiping away some of the sweat, and Colin groans against her, sending the most pleasant vibration through her body. He tilts his head slightly at her touch, mouth now wrapping around that bundle of nerves that makes her cry out.

She can feel Colin smiling smugly, and she pulls at his hair in retaliation again. Except it has the opposite effect, her husband pulls back with a low moan, a dangerous fire in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” he still asks, trying to sound gentle but the hoarseness in his voice makes him sound thirsty.

“Do not dare stop again,” is all Penelope can respond. If possible, Colin’s blue eyes darken further.

“Very well.”

Obediently, her husband dives back in, with renewed favour. She rolls her hips, meeting Colin’s movements and chasing that heated feeling she has been missing for weeks.

A gasp escapes her as she feels Colin prod at her entrance with his tongue while his free hand now plays with her bundle of nerves. Penelope’s breath hitches, eyes closing in bliss as a wave of pleasure crushes over her.

Colin can feel the moment he brings Penelope to her orgasm, as her legs tremble where they rest along his back. He allows himself a few more licks as his wife comes down from her high, revelling in the small whines she lets out. He kisses her inner thigh before making his way up again. He rests their foreheads together and he waits for Penelope to catch her breath.

Eventually, those captivating blue eyes fly open. Penelope parts her lips, ready to say something, when her eyes flicker down, directly on his neglected cock, and she gulps, lust obvious on her face. She hungers for him just as much as he does for her.

Colin can tell the exact moment she gets an idea, and before he can inquire about it, Penelope pulls him in for a sweet kiss.

All his thoughts go quiet.

“Lie down for me?” she asks when she pulls away, a cheeky smile on her lips as she licks them.

She just tasted herself on his lips, he realises.

Colin obeys, swiftly shifting their positions. In the process, he gets a mouthful of her nightgown, and Penelope chuckles at his sour face.

“Hey! Do not mock your poor husband!”

Penelope just continues to giggle and Colin is only helpless to follow suit, basking in the familiarity and the warmth. Eventually, his wife calms down as she sits on his stomach. The movement allows the fabric of her dress to brush over his sensitive member and he hisses under his breath. Penelope leans back then, reaching behind her, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock.

Colin groans.

“It just twitched,” Penelope observes, more to herself than a thought to be shared. Colin bites his tongue to avoid making a joke — truth be told, he is much too preoccupied with the thought of burying himself inside her after all this time and he’d very much appreciate getting to that but watching Penelope trying to take charge is much entertaining as well.

Then she surprises him once more as she shifts, lining herself up almost perfectly — Colin’s hands still fly to her thighs, helping her along the way — and then she unceremoniously drops down in one swift motion.

They both gasp. Colin’s hands tighten around her, cupping her generous bottom, meanwhile, she loses her balance for a short moment, catching herself on his torso, nails scratching his skin, before the touch becomes gentler when she gets used to the feeling.

“Oh my…” she whispers under her breath. “Feels… deeper.” She sighs as she experimentally moves her hips.

“Pen, love,” Colin says. “You are a wonder. I’ve missed this, I’ve missed you.” The words fly out of his mouth now, overwhelmed by the warmth surrounding him, by the intense pleasure shooting through his whole body. Oh, how he thought, even for just a few weeks, that he would never experience such bliss ever again.

But this is his purpose, his life, his love, and he will hold it, firmly, fervently, with both hands.

Penelope’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. She grabs his face with surprising strength and Colin obediently follows along, melting into the kiss they share. His lips part, allowing their tongues to find each other. He moans, surprised by Penelope’s eagerness, but quickly matching her pace.

“Col— Colin, I think—” she gasps as her movements become erratic. “I’m—”

Lady Whistledown at a loss for words, Colin used to pray for moments like this.

“I know,” he says. “I am close as well. Hold on.” He wraps an arm around her waist, keeping her close, as he shifts the both of them so his back rests against the headboard, allowing Penelope easier balance. She hums, a pleased smile on her lips, as she wraps her legs around him, one hand on the headboard and the other tracing patterns over his chest.

Colin nearly growls, feeling himself sink even deeper inside her at the new angle. He grabs Penelope’s chin with one hand, guiding her into another kiss, while his other one travels down her body once more, feeling where their body connects through the loose fabric of clothes and finds her clit at the same time he thrusts up, causing Penelope to moan loudly against his lips.

The rhythm builds up, his orgasm nears, his restraint hanging on by a thread. Penelope’s vice on him is almost suffocating. He pulls away and opens his eyes. Penelope is already looking at him, eyes wide in wonder as if she could still not believe it is happening, and that look. The relief, the happiness, the devotion, the love, all of this wrapped up in a small smile she gives him, finally sends Colin over the edge as he falls apart inside her.

Penelope follows suit, squeezing the life out of him as her second orgasm of the night hits her. A curse leaves her delicate mouth as she falls forward, now nuzzling Colin’s neck, peppering kisses that make Colin giggle.

Carefully, he manoeuvres them so they can rest against the cushions and Penelope wastes no time draping herself over him like an extra blanket.

Now, this is Heaven, with a capital H.

However, as they lay there, catching their breath, a small detail from their evening still keeps nagging at Colin’s brain.

“Please do not write to him,” he blurts out so suddenly in the peaceful air that Penelope startles and sends him a concerned look.

“... What are you on about?”

“Debling. He said he would write to you during his travels.”

Penelope laughs, pinching his cheek. “He just wanted to get a rise out of you, and it seems he has succeeded, dear husband. Do not think about him when we just made love, perhaps.”

Colin pouts but relents. She is right. His wife always is. His hands find her stomach. There has not been an official announcement or confirmation from a doctor, but he knows a bright future awaits him and he shall embrace it.

(A week later, a letter arrives from Debling, although the man should still be in London. Colin is almost successful in burning it before Penelope catches him and chastises him for his childish behaviour. He distracts her easily with his hands and pays Rae a handsome sum to get rid of the letter when she looks away.)

#bridgerton #bridgerton fic #polin #colin x penelope #my fics

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crowlhoard · 3 months ago

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Okay, I need to get this off my chest and calm down forever.

It's about the final of Murder Drones and how utterly underwhelming it is.

Of course, it has the absolute top tier animation and soundtrack, but those things only work when supplementing the story and not being used to cover up the lack of of a coherent story.

Basically it has a build-up of mystery-horror story, but turned out to be a comedic skit.

So I decided to do a Saberspark analysis in my head and got to the point where I question: "is there a way to make it better/fix it?"

So the perfect answer of "throw everything out, take the concepts, make the core tennets and rewrite it from scratch" is too much effort and basically equals to giving up on the show entirely.

So the answer has be within the rules of the show, with no absolute rules and rule of funny being allowed to be a way of plot progression. And with those limitations I settled on only one thing changed for the story to have a narrative conclusion.

Current answer to 'how to defeat the Solver' (just don't be a little b****) makes practically all plot lines of the show meaningless. There was no point in excursion to CFL, the danger never was that great, all the hosts were just being little b*****s. Nori's absence has no meaning, she was just sitting in a cave looking for an optional passive buff item, instead of just telling her daughter she inherited ungodly genetics, but it's okay as long as she is not being a little b**** about. Maybe that's why Solver could never control Doll, Yeva was around long enough to tell her to not be a little b****. (I'm sorry for repeating it so many times, but it's the one part that makes me slam my head harder than the teacher).

So instead, we can have V bring back the patch, that'll also would explain why she was absent for so long besides yeehawing on the sentinel on the above floor. Add the comedy by making patch literally taped back together (nothing beats the incredulous stupidity of bronko bus))).

Now, everything is the same until the end of the ping scene, Cyn is obviously OP, everything is scary, but before it kicks V out of the building, she drops the patch. And now, when she is about to strike V down, Uzi slams the patch into her head from behind.

And then we continue the same way the episode went, but now it makes sense why Cyn can be beaten down and can't overtake other hosts.

And boom, now the whole mystery delving and going to the labs has a pay-off, it wasn't just for the vibes, Nori wasn't just hiding away from her family for no actual reason. And the scene after credits still fits, because it keeps the Solver as an unknowable entity that can't be destroyed or truly defeated.

Of course it'll still feel rushed and somewhat underwhelming, but at least the main plot line of learning all those mysteries has a pay-off, a conclusion.

And now let me go, you hyperfixation brain worms!!!!

#murder drones #murder drones episode 8

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softeninglooks · 3 months ago

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hori and kashima | all the times i almost kissed you, and the one time i did (gekkan shojo nozaki-kun)

gsnk is one of my all time favorite mangas, so here's a hori/kashima piece in celebration of me finally getting around to watching the anime adaptation. that last summer festival episode got me back into the gsnk feels (•‾⌣‾•)b

“Nozaki-kun, why don’t you take inspiration from Hori-senpai’s real personality for this play? It might be helpful! That way, Kashima-kun wouldn’t be the only star of the play.”

Sitting at his desk, Nozaki scratched the tip of his nose with the gel pen caught between his fingers. Sakura had made a very good point. If inspiration didn’t strike, he could always use the actors as reference points. Hori’s big return to the drama club stage commanded nothing less than a play which complimented—and enhanced—his already admirable acting skills.

Hori was known to be an extraordinary actor by those who had seen him in productions before, but ever since he had stepped down to let Kashima shine, many Roman Academy students didn’t suspect the drama club president’s calling for the stage. With his outstanding ability to mold his character according to the script and rigorous approach to acting, Hori was beyond the shadow of a doubt capable of the most brilliant performances, even in only a student play.

But for this, Hori needed a script. A good script—which is when Nozaki and Sakura came into the picture.

“I’ve always made Kashima into a flirty prince. She’s charismatic, so it makes sense that she would always be under the spotlight. But with this play, we cannot simply rewrite the last play,” Nozaki pondered out loud, staring at the crumpled balls of paper discarded in the bin. “You’re right, Sakura. Maybe if I focus on Hori-senpai more, the right story will come to mind.”

“That’s the spirit, Nozaki-kun! Let’s see, how is Hori-senpai?”

“Meticulous. The perspective in his backgrounds is always flawless.”

“Ah, true!” Sakura pushed the image of hand-drawn underwear to the back of her mind. It would be nothing more than a testament to Hori’s sense of humor. “He’s also really committed to the drama club. He’s always busy with working on sets, and…”

The graphic memory of Hori tackling, kicking, dragging, and punching Kashima in a variety of daily situations finally took center stage in Sakura and Nozaki’s imagination. Despite all of their best efforts, they knew the answer to the question.

“He’s violent and scary,” they agreed, mortified.

“Like an evil spirit who wants to take revenge on their former foe!” A stroke of inspiration came over Nozaki, who asked for Sakura’s approval with a happy look.

“It isn’t a horror play, Nozaki-kun,” she had to cut his exultation short.

“What about this: since Kashima usually always plays the part of the prince, what if we reverse the roles?”

Nozaki’s sudden excitement passed down to Sakura, who met his suggestion with the same sparks in her widening eyes.

Then a moment of internal deliberation.

“Kashima will take back the role won’t she?” Sakura murmured defeatedly.

They could already picture the scene clearly enough: Kashima, even in the most elegant and queenly attire, would deliver her lines in the smoothest voice and readily grab the nearest sword to fly to the prince’s rescue, eclipsing all other actors. Knowing Hori, he would even encourage such a reversal by praising her princely features. In the Roman Academy drama club, the part of the prince existed solely through Kashima, its beating heart and charming face.

“Then let’s… Make Hori-senpai into the princess?”

“Nozaki-kun, I’m not sure Senpai… I mean, do you think he could pull that off?”

“He could be a princess disguised as a soldier who fights undercover to reclaim her kingdom, which was taken over by an enemy king. Kashima can play the part of the future prince, an officer who helps the princess take back her kingdom!” Nozaki perked up. “Which means senpai will get to be the main character, it won’t only be Kashima under the spotlight! And then the princess reveals her tragic past to the officer, who was by her side all along to help her, and they get married! So he becomes the prince!”

“Your imagination sure is wild, Nozaki-kun… But this could work! I mean, Hori-senpai is always happy when Kashima plays the prince, right? And because he’ll be a princess disguised as a soldier, there are only minor costume changes for senpai, which will make it easier for him to play.”

“Then it’s decided! I’ll write a good play for Hori-senpai!” Nozaki clutched the pen in his hand with determination.

Standing by the drama club stage, Hori meticulously leafed through the script handed to him by Nozaki. After the initial shock at the sight of the casting, with the role of princess printed next to his name, he still gave his trusted friend a chance, in any case thankful for Nozaki’s serious work when it came to fulfilling his end of their bargain. And there was nothing to be said: Nozaki surpassed himself with this play.

“Senpai, Nozaki-kun, Chiyo-chan, what are you all doing? Let me in!”

As expected, Kashima was quick to join the group. She leant over Hori’s shoulder, lips curled into an expressive pout to plead her case.

“This is the play Nozaki-kun wrote!” Sakura informed her optimistically, pointing at the notebook in Hori’s hands.

“Oh, really?! What’s it about? Who will succumb to my charm, this time?” Kashima winked at her small audience.

Hori scratched the back of his head, cheeks reddening from what seemed like an ongoing inner debate (and presumable annoyance at Kashima’s attempts to read the script over his shoulder), and finally slapped his hand over the script decidedly. “Alright. I’ll do it. Nozaki, I trust your script.”

“That’s wonderful, Hori-senpai!” Sakura cheered, while Nozaki celebrated their victory with a joyful “yosh!”

“Kashima, you’ll be a kind of prince. An army general who becomes the prince at the end of the story. And…” Hori cleared his throat, avoiding Kashima’s quizzical gaze, and in the most matter-of-factly tone stated: “I’ll be the princess.”

“The princess?!”

“A princess who goes undercover as a soldier!” He explained hotly. “Because I can save myself.”

“But what about me? Is it not a prince’s role to save the treasure dearest to him?” Kahsima flashed a languid smile at Hori and was met with a violent kick.

“Does the drama club just put on the same production every time?” Sakura deadpanned, at which Hori sighed softly.

“Don’t worry, senpai! I’ll make your dream come true!” Kashima vowed wholeheartedly.

This time, a hopeful light swept across Hori’s face—might she mean that she will do her best to work hard and perform her best? Kashima, of course, meant that she would carry Hori princess-style, as she had guessed he secretly dreamed of from the shadows backstage. (She got it all wrong.)

“Kashima-kun!” A member of the drama club called out Kashima’s name, which had the immediate effect of having her forget entirely about the matter at hand. The girl approached her with hopeful eyes, holding a heavy stage prop. “I need someone to hold this side while I fix this part. Could you please help me, Kashima-kun?” She pleaded, cheeks flushed from Kashima’s magnetic appeal (not an unusual sight).

“Of course, my princess. I wouldn’t be your prince if I couldn’t help you, could I?”

And just like that, Kashima scurried away with the rejoicing girl, Nozaki’s script already long forgotten.

“Kashima! You better come back here!” Hori yelled after her, before apologizing to his friends for Kashima’s dissipated behavior. “I’ll make sure that she reads it, though I have to say I can’t complain about her when it comes to acting. She may not look like it at first, but she gets the job done,” he admitted, a faint smile showing through the exasperated look that crossed his face.

“She’s practically always in character, isn’t she,” Sakura chuckled worriedly. “Do you think Hori-senpai and Kashima-kun will make it out alive? I don’t know if Hori-senpai will kill Kashima-kun first, or if he’ll die from how much it takes to keep Kashima-kun focused,” she whispered to Nozaki.

“By the way, Senpai, how are rehearsals going?”

“Ah,” Hori sighed deeply from his seat in front of Nozaki’s table, fingers coming to a still over the background he had been sketching. “Kashima has no trouble with playing the general/prince part. To be honest, I’m the one who’s struggling…,” he trailed off, running a tired hand through his hair. “Every time Kashima tries to treat my character like a princess before the big reveal, it takes everything in me not to send her flying across the stage. It’ll ruin the emotional scene if she keeps doing that.”

“You have sent her flying across the room, haven’t you?” Sakura interjected, unfazed.

“On multiple occasions,” Hori admitted under his breath. “So, basically, she’s acting too princely. The point is that people don’t know the princess is the princess until she trusts the general enough to tell him, which is the big plot-twist. And then the audience will come to admire the princess even more because of everything she sacrificed to protect her people and take back the kingdom. But because I’m playing the princess, Kashima is even more forceful than usual…”

Nozaki nodded happily in return, elated at Hori’s thorough understanding of the play—and completely unconcerned by his friend’s struggles.

“True, the audience has to believe you’re just a normal soldier, so that the emotional scene makes a real impact. The general himself doesn’t know. But it’s not so easy for Kashima to contain her princely behavior,” Sakura commented empathetically. “Good luck, Hori-senpai! I’m sure that you’ll do your best and do justice to Nozaki-kun’s script.”

“You two really have no idea how to help me, do you?”

“Why don’t you try rehearsing separately, Hori-senpai? Kashima-kun is always so excited when you act, so if she rehearses with someone else, she might not be distracted as easily.”

“Now that you say it, we could try that,” Hori nodded thoughtfully, chin resting on the back of his hand. “I just want to get her focused so she can play her best.”

“Then try that, Hori-senpai! We could help, right, Nozaki-kun? Mikoshiba-kun?”

“Sure.”

“Of course,” the corners of Mikoshiba’s lips curled into a confident smile, aimed at Sakura with no timidity. “You know you can always count on me to get the job done.”

As most times with Mikoshiba, his self-assurance waned as soon as it was time to rise to the occasion. Not that Mikoshiba didn’t put all of his good will into helping Hori and taking on the part of the undercover princess, but Kashima didn’t facilitate the matter at hand. In fact, Sakura and Nozaki wondered if rehearsal hadn’t been more successful when Hori himself had played the part.

Even though at this stage of the play the prince and princess were still merely comrades in arms, Kashima evidently gave Mikoshiba special treatment. A gentlemanly hand extended to lift him back up after a tumultuous battle, a flirtatious word of encouragement surreptitiously whispered into his ear, a gentle hand brushing his arm to make sure that he wasn’t hurt. Kashima’s princely manners, paired with Mikoshiba’s flushed cheeks and stammering attempts to stick to the script, blew his cover in a matter of seconds.

“Let’s have Nozaki-kun play Hori-senpai’s role,” Sakura patted Mikoshiba’s shoulder, taking the crumpled script from him to pass it over to Nozaki. “That might work better.”

Cue to Nozaki delivering his lines in the flattest of tones, brandishing his sword mechanically as he staved off imaginary opponents.

“I will save this kingdom,” he raised his voice, still with no significant modulation in his countenance.

“You’re my greatest solider. Your love for this kingdom is admirable.” Later in the play, the general came to congratulate his winning army for their valorous feats on the battlefield. Extending his hand to Nozaki, Kashima looked deeply into his eyes. “I have no doubt that if you keep doing your duty, you will be promoted to higher ranks.”

“I am not doing this for honor.” The line, strong and bitter, resonant with all the princess’s love and determination to save her home, came out monotonously from Nozaki. “I want to save my people, that is all.”

Nozaki did try, bless his soul. But it seemed like acting was not exactly the playwright’s calling, nor a way to enthuse those around him. Kashima’s own eagerness petered out along with his passive interpretation.

“Hori-senpai will kill us if we break Kashima…!” A horrified Mikoshiba choked beside Sakura. “Sakura, you take Nozaki’s place.”

“Me? But I’ve never tried acting before…”

“Because you think Nozaki has?!”

“You have a point, Mikorin.”

“Chiyo-chan!” Kashima waved excitedly, welcoming a flustered Sakura on stage. “No need to be so nervous,” she took her friend’s hand into hers, bowing before her with long lids half-drawn over her eyes. “You know I will always come and save you.”

“Sakura… I believed in you…” Mikoshiba lamented through gritted teeth.

But then Sakura opened the script, clearing her throat to give herself courage, and started reading her lines in the strongest voice she could muster.

“General, let me join your army. I wish to help you save the kingdom I grew up in, and repay the king for everything he did for us.”

“I know a brave man when I see one.” Immediately, Kashima’s princely aura sparkled about her, invisible but palpable to all spectators, a magnetic force enthralling all eyes. “Let me warn you that if you join my army, you have to be prepared to make sacrifices. Though I will do everything in my power to watch over you.” With this, Kashima took a step closer, hand flying to rest on Sakura’s shoulder.

“Yes, sir. I will do everything to take back our kingdom,” Sakura’s assertive declaration boomed across the stage, insensitive to Kashima’s charming demeanor.

Sakura! Mikoshiba clenched his fist victoriously with a proud grin. She only has eyes for Nozaki, so she’s completely immune to Kashima!

“How are rehearsals with Kashima going?”

“Thanks to Sakura, rehearsals are going well. What about you, Hori-senpai?”

“Well… How do I put this…” With arms crossed over his chest, Hori’s gaze mindlessly fell onto the manga panels lined up before him. “When someone else plays the prince part, I just can’t take them seriously.” His eyebrows drew together out of barely contained frustration and he slammed his hands on the table. “Kashima is the drama club’s prince! That part is hers!”

“But there are only a few days left before the big debut. Won’t you rehearse together at least once?”

“I really don’t want to ruin all our efforts before the premiere… Worse comes to worst, I’ll adapt to whatever Kashima does on stage. We can’t let everything we did go to waste. If things go badly in rehearsal the day before… I don’t even want to think about it.”

“You really feel strongly about this play, Hori-senpai,” Nozaki beamed, touched by Hori’s commitment to the story.

“Who knows when I get to go on stage again, so I kinda want to make most of it, you know?”

Hori’s crossed expression softened, giving way to a meditative look. With a small smile, he sighed, picking his pen back up to trace the outline of the next background. Not to mention that it’ll be my first time properly acting alongside Kashima, and I don’t think I’ll ever come across a better prince than her.

“Chiyo-chan…” On the other end of the situation, Kashima’s lifeless voice sounded like a cry for help. “I haven’t seen senpai today… Have you seen him…?” She asked desperately, a look of overwhelming sadness distorting her usually cheerful features into a disheartened pout.

“Kashima-kun… There, there,” Sakura patted her back with compassion, trying to reassure her friend. “YHe’s been rehearsing for the play with Wakamatsu-kun.”

“Does he hate me now?”

“Absolutely not, Kashima-kun! He’s doing that so both of you can concentrate while you rehearse, it’s a momentary measure! You’ll get to see him again soon.”

“But he doesn’t even go looking for me anymore,” she sulked. “He hasn’t even kicked me today!”

“Kashima-kun… You should sort out your priorities.”

The premiere took place two weeks later.

The joyous beams of spotlights swept across the filling room, landing onto the curtain drawn over the yet empty stage. An impatient trepidation rustled in the air, hushed voices speculated on the drama club’s new play, gushed over Kashima, and waited for the chime that announced the beginning of the production. The news that Masayuki Hori, president of the drama club, would himself star in the play alongside Kashima after so long drew even more curious eyes to the show.

“I’m sure that Hori-senpai and Kashima-kun will do their best and make the script you’ve written come to life, Nozaki-kun,” Sakura commented keenly, sat between Nozaki and Mikoshiba.

“Yes, they’ve been working hard,” Nozaki seemed just as excited in his own way.

“Kashima and I have been doing great,” Mikoshiba puffed out his chest proudly. “She’s more than ready.”

“Let’s just hope that acting with Hori-senpai won’t have the opposite effect…”

Another few minutes of mounting anticipation, and the lights went off with a soft clank, extinguishing the ambient swish of bubbling voices. A single halo remained alit over the stage, an invitation for the actors to occupy the space opened for them as the curtain lifted.

“There we go!” Sakura whispered with growing enthusiasm.

Walking out of the wings with his head held up firmly, Hori stepped into the spotlight, a hand clasped over the sword pressed against his thigh. Clad in period military attire, his gazed fixed on a distant point along the horizon, beyond the room, he addressed the audience in a strong voice.

“I have sworn to protect our people and our land with my life, if need be. Today, the time has come to fulfill that promise, or perish. While we lament the death of our unjustly slain king, we cannot remain defeated and remorseful. We must honor the late king by taking back our kingdom. We must deliver our people from the rule of a newly come tyrant whose army is wreaking havoc in the country and decimating homes that were built after years of toil, with love and care.” Hori slowly revealed his weapon’s sharp blade, glistening under the direct light. He glanced at it, the ever so light trace on sadness on his features solidifying into resolve. “I have sworn to protect our people and our land with my life. The time has come. To the general I go, to offer him my services in the kingdom’s army.”

He sheathed the sword and strode away, only the clicking of his heels cutting through the silence. The audience held its breath, enthralled by the drama club’s president mastery of his craft, as if a soldier of the past had truly materialized before them, sharing the poignant story of his kingdom and goals with the spectators.

“President!”

Backstage, Hori was greeted with congratulatory hands over his shoulders and impressed smiles from his fellow club members.

“Hori-senpai, you were brilliant! Let’s keep going!”

“Kashima-kun, you go on stage now.”

Kashima was dragged away before she could congratulate Hori, but the fervent glow in her eyes and rosy excitement splashed across her cheeks spoke a language that did not need words. Hori’s acting was nothing short of prodigious! She drew on all of her resources to keep her cool and stay in character not to disappoint him.

Heaving a deep sigh of relief, Hori took his place in the wings and waited for his cue to join Kashima on stage. Now that the play had begun, all the built-up tension tumbled off his shoulders, leaving room for unabashed enjoyment, the delight to act again and see Kashima, his homegrown prince, flawlessly deliver her lines as the army general.

Sakura and Nozaki had been right—perhaps their separate rehearsals did add a sparkle of magic to the performance. It may have been to keep Kashima focused, but watching from backstage, her acting came to Hori as a discovery all over again; a jewel that one day washed up on the shore unannounced, brought by the waves of luck. With Kashima’s arrival, life was breathed into the characters living in Hori’s stories, like colors that lit up a black-and-white world, and brought daylight into each day.

True, there had been a fair share of complications, swarms of distracting visitors who came to see Kashima in the drama club room, expeditions through the school to bring her to rehearsal, and a whole lot of mischief. But above all else, Hori was grateful to have found his person, the one who set the standard in his life, no matter how many times he had had to put up with her antics and kick her back to reality.

“You’re my greatest solider. Your love for this kingdom is admirable. I have no doubt that if you keep doing your duty, you will be promoted to general.”

They stood together on stage. Kashima extended her hand for Hori to shake, a thankful and solemn gesture that presaged nothing of the crucial revelation to come. If internally, Kashima was close to combusting from the happiness of sharing the same stage with Hori, she betrayed no unnecessary emotion besides recognition of her soldier’s bravery.

In a matter of seconds, of words confessed under the now dim stage lighting, the course of the play would be altered.

“I am not doing this for honor.” Hori clasped the hand presented to him by Kashima briefly, then let go. “I want to save my people, that is all.”

“Still, I greatly appreciate your loyalty. Where do you come from, soldier?”

“Ah, general, sir, I am afraid I could not tell you the truth on this occasion.”

“Why is that? We just risked our lives together, which I hope would be sufficient enough for me to have gained your trust. No matter what your past is, whatever wrong you may have done, I can guarantee that your devotion to the kingdom wipes the slate clean.”

“It is not a wrong which I have done, general. In fact… Ah,” a melancholy smile passed by Hori’s lips as he looked away from Kashima, making his voice sound higher than usual. “It is not my past which I wish to conceal, but my true identity. You see, if I love this kingdom so much…” He hesitated, taking a few steps forward, then lifted his head back up with determination. “It is because I am the late king’s daughter,” Hori’s dignified declaration resounded through the room. “I could not hide and remain idle when our enemies have so trampled our fellow countrymen’s homes.”

“The late king’s— daughter?!”

Stifled gasps reverberated through the audience, and Sakura caught Nozaki victoriously pumping his fist out of the corner of her eye. Mikoshiba, on the other hand, sniffled softly, staring at the stage through a glossy film of tears. Hori’s interpretation, the sudden gentleness washing over his until then hardened features, his fleeting glance directed at Kashima, became one with the princess searching for a kind soul to hear her story; he took her from the pages of the script, and made her come onto the stage.

“Indeed, general.”

“But—”

“To join your army, there are some things I have had to sacrifice, but none of them come close to all the suffering endured by our people. Long hair and sumptuous clothes are a small price to pay in exchange for the safety of this kingdom, are they not?”

“Princess… Your majesty, I am sorry you have had to—”

“There is no need for this, general. I am still the same soldier, sir. I will keep doing my best to save our kingdom.”

From then on, Kashima had permission to fall back into the patterns she knew by heart, her prince-charming act which had seduced so many. And yet, going through the final act of the play, each of Kashima’s gestures seemed to bear a gravity unusual to Hori. To see her so focused had always been deeply gratifying, but this—this felt different.

Kashima was not merely inhabiting the fantasy world of created by the drama club as the prince everyone knew her to be, but she, as the commanding army general and future prince, paid attention to the princess, who before anything else had been a comrade, a soldier and a friend whose commitment stemmed from a shared love for their kingdom. Kashima protected Hori’s back as if it were the whole world she meant to push back, and when she helped him stand back up, the tenderness at the tip of her fingertips prickled Hori’s skin.

He had never seen Kashima so entirely absorbed in a play; so breathtakingly beautiful from up close, with her face bathed in light, and the next line spilling from her lips, keeping up with Hori’s intense acting. They had just defeated the enemy king, and there she was descending to her knees, looking up at Hori with clear green eyes that held in them the warmth of an unconstrained smile.

“Your majesty, I thank you for your help and the valor you demonstrated as a soldier. Please allow me to say just these few words, and if they are not to your liking, dismiss me at once. I speak no longer as your general, but as someone whom you once confided in, and who since then fell in love in the line of battle, against all odds.” Kashima’s hand touched the left side of her chest, where beat her heart, then extended her open palm toward Hori. A few misplaced strands of hair brushed her forehead, beads of sweat darkened her hairline. Hori was never more confident that she was his star. “I love you. Will you have me?”

“General, rise.” Hori took Kashima’s hand in his, lifting her up from her knees, and his thumb rubbed a featherlight circle into her knuckles. “I am grateful for your help—and for keeping my secret safe. I will have you. You see, those feelings are quite mutual,” he cracked a smile, locking eyes with Kashima.

The last line of the script read ‘the prince and princess kiss.’

“Chiyo-chan! Nozaki-kun! Mikoshiba-kun! Hori-senpai told me I was the best kouhai! You hear that, the best kouhai!”

“That’s what you’re going to remember?!”

#gekkan shoujo nozaki kun #gekkan shoujo nozaki kun fanfiction #gsnk #gsnk fanfiction #kashima yuu #hori mayasuki #kashima yuu fanfiction #hori mayasuki fanfiction #horikashi #horikashi fanfiction #my writing #writing

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five-bi-five-mind · 2 years ago

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Hell or High Water (Pt. 3)

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: JJ x fem!Reader

Words: 6.4k+

Summary: JJ is dealing with the aftermath of the attack. Will she ever heal?

Warnings: Descriptions of hospital rooms, mention of stitches, honestly a pretty traumatized/depressed JJ. Some brief smut, fingering (r receiving). Let me know if I forgot something!

A/N: I know this took forever. The amount of rewrites this went through, and even then I’m iffy on the ending. But here we are at the final part of this series. Also I highly recommend listening to Hell or High Water by Billy Raffoul while reading this chapter. I mean the whole fic has the vibe but especially this chapter. Anyways, enjoy!

Series masterlist

Part 3: For the Living Touch and Go. Those words rang through JJ’s mind on a constant loop. Your condition was touch and go. She was stuck in this in between of not knowing if her wife will ever wake again. With each rhythmic beep of your heart monitor she felt a little more at ease, but then she’d look at you lying in the hospital bed. You didn’t look like you. Your skin lost its color, your body was still as can be, and you had tubes and wires hooked to just about every inch of you. It killed JJ to look at you, yet she felt like every time she took her eyes off you, you’d slip through her fingers.

JJ hadn’t slept. It’s been 3 days since you last opened your eyes and when she wasn’t thinking about what the doctors said, she was thinking about those last moments before help arrived. You, broken and bleeding in her arms. JJ only left your side once since then, with the promise that Emily would stay behind and keep an eye on your state while she grabbed some of her things and yours in preparation for your stay in the hospital. She wanted you to wake up to your favorite things. Fuzzy socks and a soft blanket. Not that those were on you now, but for when you did wake up. But there was another reason why she didn’t want to go home. When she did she saw the blood stains on the floor, she would have to deal with that at some point. The minute she went home to gather the things she wanted, she stopped in her tracks when she saw it. Her stomach twisted in disgust and rage. Disgust for the man who did that to you. Even though he was dead now, she wished she could’ve watched him rot in prison instead. And rage at herself, for putting you in that position. For failing you, for letting you get harmed because of her job, for putting you in the hospital in critical condition, not knowing if you’d ever wake up again.

Her fists clenched so hard she felt her nails dig into her palms as she sat across from you. How could she let you end up here? You were so fucking stubborn. If only she had pushed more, insisted more that you leave. Maybe she should’ve given in and gone with you. That was the only way you would’ve ever agreed to leave. She’s never run from an unsub, she’s never left her team like that and it wasn’t in her nature to change that now. But here you both are now because of it. JJ wasn’t one to pray, but she prayed to any higher being who’d listen for you to wake up soon.

You were minutes from death when they rushed you in, you lost so much blood you slipped into a coma despite their efforts to help you. “Blood loss is the second major cause of comas,” the doctor’s said, “it’s to be expected.” That didn’t make JJ feel any better in the slightest. She waited, blood soaked, in the waiting room until she was allowed to go back to see you. She waited hours upon hours. Luckily, Emily brought her clean clothes before wrapping up the crime scene that was once your home.

JJ wasn’t always alone with you. Sometimes that felt like a blessing, to be surrounded by the team. All of them came after the case was wrapped up, then as the hours stretched into days they rotated. When they were there, sometimes JJ felt less alone and afraid. But then sometimes it was a curse. She couldn’t look them in the eyes after she first watched their expressions. They’d all look at you with such concern, such sadness and she’d feel that overwhelming sense of failure all over again. Of course, each member of the team knew you and cared for you deeply. You came to social gatherings with JJ, seen all of them and their partners. You were a ray of sunshine and everyone who met you instantly loved you. So it only made sense that seeing you the way you were now would break their hearts too. JJ didn’t know if she would ever get over this guilt.

“How is she?” Emily broke the silence of the room. JJ was currently hunched over in a chair she pulled up next to your bed, her head hanging low. Emily had just gotten there with food, knowing that her friend wasn’t going to leave your side easily, even to take care of herself.

“No change,” JJ mumbled, her eyes locked on the linoleum floor, refusing to look up at Emily. She knew she’d find a look of sadness and pity, she couldn’t stomach that right now.

“She’s a fighter,” Emily said, coming up to JJ and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

JJ just mumbled a response and looked back up to where you lay. That you were, JJ was sure of it. You’d wake up, you’d pull through. The question was when. JJ hoped you wouldn’t make her wait long. Each passing moment was agony to her.

——————————————-

Fortunately for JJ, you did finally open your eyes. In total you had been lying unconscious in that hospital bed for five days. Each one filled with an unbearable anxiety that made JJ feel like the bland white walls of your hospital room were closing in on her. But still, you woke up and that’s what mattered. JJ’s whole world felt like it suddenly resumed from a long pause in the moment your eyes finally met hers. Her heart felt like it was beating again.

From the moment you opened your eyes though, JJ could tell you were ready to get the hell up and out of there. It was like a switch flipped. One minute you were clinging to life and barely breathing, the next you were arguing to get up and get moving.

It took way longer than you would’ve liked to remain in the hospital once you woke up. Your body needed to regain strength, your wound was still healing, and your vitals needed to be monitored. That didn’t help your overwhelming desire to go home. Then everything could finally go back to normal or at least it would feel a little more familiar, but even then you knew that “normal” would take some time. For the days you were awake and stuck in your hospital bed, you could tell JJ was struggling to hide the guilt behind her eyes. It was glaringly obvious to you that she blamed herself for everything that happened. When you caught her staring with that painful expression she seemed to perpetually wear these days she would immediately look away from you. You didn’t know what broke your heart more, the way she avoided you or the way you knew she was drowning in her inner turmoil.

The only time she really talked to you during your stay at the hospital was to tell you to stop being so stubborn. It was getting tiresome to hear the same lecture over and over again about the healing process. Your body went through a trauma. It was a close call. It takes time to come back from these things. You heard all of that way too much now.

Luckily for you, whether it was the doctors finally giving in or your amazing determination to heal yourself with sheer willpower, you were promised to go home early. While you might have been over the moon to be able to be in your own bed, surrounded by your own things, and not staring at the bland white walls of the hospital room anymore, JJ was feeling the opposite.

The minute the doctor gave you the okay to prepare to go back home, all the color drained from JJ’s face. She didn’t even bother hiding her reaction. Her feet planted in that defensive stance she got whenever she was preparing for a verbal fight, her arms crossed over her chest and her jaw clenched as she listened to you eagerly thank your doctor for the permission to finally leave. You thought an argument was beginning to brew between the two of you, but instead she snapped at the doctor, questioning everything that was just said. In the end, unfortunately for her, it was your decision and despite her wishes, you were going back home.

The transition from the hospital to your apartment building was tenser than you anticipated. JJ treated you with care and hesitation, insisting on being the one to wheel you out of the hospital even when you promised you could walk (albeit very slowly) on your own. When you reached the car she helped you in and buckled you up with the utmost care, but you didn’t miss the way her hands trembled as they fumbled to secure you in. The rest of the car ride consisted of the continuous habit your wife has now picked up of refusing to even glance at you when you talked. Instead, she listed off all the things she didn’t want you to do until you were fully recovered and all the things she would be doing to ensure you were safe and comfortable when you got home.

It killed you to see her like this. In a way, you did feel guilty for this. That you didn’t listen to her and stayed behind when you knew you could be in danger. However, you didn’t completely regret that decision. Deep down, you thought that if you weren’t there it would’ve been her who got hurt and if you were miles and miles away, who would’ve been there to come to her rescue? The thought of you two switching places made your stomach twist. This outcome wasn’t ideal, but you’d heal eventually and be good as new. You’d take this outcome over any chance of losing your wife for good any day. What mattered was that you would be okay. You understood it was iffy for a while but now you’re on the path to recover and you will heal in time. But what you also understood is that you weren’t the only one who needed time to heal now.

Watching JJ as she drove with clenched fists on the steering wheel and body tense with stress, you knew she needed to heal just as much as you. The problem was, you weren’t sure how to best help support her, when she didn’t even look you in the eye anymore.

When she helped you into the apartment, you already felt overwhelmed by her. Not once in your relationship did you ever feel like you needed JJ to take a step back, but the way she hovered over you every single second since you walked through the door and sat down on your bed was driving you crazy. What’s worse was, even though she seemed like she was everywhere all at once, she also seemed so distant from you. Like a shell of a person. And she still wouldn’t meet your eyes.

It wasn’t hard to miss the growing guilt that showed on her face as she watched you walk a little slower than normal through your apartment halls. And when the two of you passed the fateful spot where it all went down, regardless of how spotless it now was, you both still flinched when your eyes fell on it. Then there was a brief pause as both of you turned your gaze away, the pain of the memory washing over you, before you both moved on to your bedroom.

When JJ had finished putting your things away you had expected her to at least spend a few moments to appreciate that you actually made it home and you’re both safe. However, she just continued to be equally too protective and too absent all at once. A skill, you thought, only Jennifer Jareau could master.

You patted the bed next to where you sat propped up once you saw that JJ had finally run out of things to unpack. She didn’t make a sound as she stood before you, just staring at the empty spot next to you. Then, after a moment, she blinked and began to turn and busy herself with god knows what else. That was the boiling point.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Your voice was soft, yet sounded way too loud in the uncomfortable silence of the room.

“What are you talking about?” JJ let out a humorless laugh and turned to leave. You caught her wrist before she could step too far away from the bed.

“Please, Jennifer.” You rarely called her by her full name but in that moment she knew it was serious, you were serious, and suddenly the defenses she’d been holding up for days started to lower.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her arms going limp at her sides, with your hand still wrapped around her wrist. “I’m not used to you being home.”

That might have been half true but even she knew you could see through that.

You gave her an exhausted look, not offering a word, your hand still holding onto her, as you waited for a better answer.

“It’s just been hard,” JJ finally spoke again, her voice even quieter.

“What has?”

“Seeing you like this.” Her eyes dropped to the floor and her head hung low. You knew she was trying, yet again, to build up more walls.

“JJ, it’s not your fault.”

She didn’t move a muscle. You knew she refused to let those words sink in, but you just had to get them through.

“It’s not…” your hand slid down her wrist to take hers in your own, “…your fault.”

She still didn’t say a word, but you felt her fist clench in the palm of your hand and you knew she was fighting off whatever her inner demons were telling her right now.

“If anything it’s mine. I mean, I-“

“Don’t.” Her voice echoed through the room as she interrupted you. You didn’t let go of her hand but you were taken aback at her reaction all the same. “Don’t blame yourself.” You could tell her body was trembling now as she stood before you. All you wanted was to pull her into your arms and take away this pain she was putting herself through.

Tugging on her arm, you tried to get her to budge even a little. “JJ…” you breathed, trying to calm down the storm you could tell was brewing. “You’re not to blame either, though.”

“Yes I am!” JJ yanked her hand out of yours suddenly and your eyes widened at her outburst. “I couldn’t keep you safe here. I can’t keep you safe but you insisted on coming back here.”

“We had to go home eventually…”

JJ paused, her shoulders heaving up and down as anger seethed through her. You knew this anger wasn’t towards you, but herself. While many would be terrified of an angry Jennifer Jareau, your heart just broke for her.

She started to turn from you, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to calm herself but you didn’t want her to walk out that door. You had no plan to stop her though and in your current state you couldn’t just fling yourself forward.

“I need a minute,” JJ muttered before reaching the door to your shared bedroom. You watched in defeat as she walked out the door, walls back up to shut you out, and you knew this conversation wasn’t over. What you feared, though, was that it was going to be a long and painful process to finally get through to your wife.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few more weeks went by and you were getting better with each passing day. Of course, you still had to take it easy. Your external stitches were out but you were still in the middle of the healing process. The good news was that your mobility was a lot better. You were up and moving around the house with every chance you got, which unfortunately usually meant any moment JJ wasn’t home. It was hard to take the glare of disapproval she’d shoot your way when she saw you doing anything other than sitting and resting. Honestly, you were getting tired of it.

It seemed like the more you healed and were getting some of your independence back from that, the more her mood worsened. You knew, deep down, that it was just her fear and guilt that was affecting her mood. After that conversation you had when you both got home you kept trying, but JJ would just storm off. Unwilling to hear any sort of reason or let you alleviate any of her blame. It constantly pulled at your heart to see her so guarded with you of all people.

What was even worse was she stopped touching you and you craved her so badly. And not in a sexual way even, you just wanted her to hold your hand, kiss your cheek, or just anything really. She only touched you when she helped you out of bed the first week you were home or when she helped you bathe, but you were long past needing help with either of those things. Plus, you didn’t much care for her helping you with things like that. Wife or not, you really didn’t love help with showering when you insisted you could shower alone. Now, though, you honestly missed the help, especially when it was the only time you felt her gentle touch on you.

Things were reaching their breaking point with you quickly. There was only so much more of the distanced looks and avoidance you could take from JJ before you were going to snap. She barely left home too, which somehow made it even worse. At least if she was going to work or leaving the house for more than just groceries and the occasional take out, you could say she was just busy or tired. But no, she was home most of the time, so that just left you with a shell of your wife walking around the house, holding you at arms length, obviously traumatized by the events you both experienced, and yet refusing any help or to even hear you out. It was hurting your heart, but worse it was hurting your relationship.

It couldn’t go on like this, not for much longer. You had to get your wife to look at you, really look at you, and then talk. And fuck if you didn’t hope it would at least end in her kissing you again. If not, you didn’t know how much more of this situation you could take. What killed you even more, was the nightmares you had and the overwhelming desire for JJ to throw her arms around you at night and kiss your tears away. But you also knew, if she knew of any of your lingering fears it would just make it worse for her guilt. So when you did wake from them, from the nightmare of that fateful night repeating itself, you just wrapped your arms tight to your chest and let silent tears fall as you tried to fall back asleep. All the while, being extremely careful not to wake your sleeping wife. What you didn’t know yet was that you weren’t the only one with nightmares.

But that realization came one night when you, yourself woke from the terrible recurring dream. Your chest was heaving, your body was in a cold sweat, and your heart was racing, but you had a method to calm this storm. Taking deep breaths and counting down from one hundred always helped. It must’ve affected you more tonight though, you could feel the mattress shake with your body. After a few more minutes of deep breathing, however, you realized you weren’t the one shaking. Pressed with her back to yours, you could just barely feel the tremble of her shoulders as she lay next to you. She was silent, except for a few shaky sighs that came from her side of the bed, but you knew the signs and you knew JJ. She was crying. Something she actively tried to hide from you since the whole ordeal.

You laid there totally frozen for a minute. This was a moment that JJ obviously didn’t want you to be aware of, but this was also a moment where her walls were possibly down. She was also your wife and you ached to comfort her. So, there were options: Either you ask her about it in the morning and risk her walls coming back up before then or you listen to your heart and comfort her now like you so desperately wanted to. Of course, you picked the second option.

“Hey…” you whispered into the dark room as you rolled over to your other side so that you could face JJ’s back. For a moment, you thought maybe she didn’t hear you, so with caution you slowly raised a hand to run your fingers gently down her back. “JJ…” you tried again. “What’s wrong?” But with the mixture of your touch and your voice a little louder, suddenly you felt her whole body freeze underneath your fingertips. It was like she was holding her breath and her shoulders had stopped trembling, but you still knew she was awake.

“JJ, talk to me.” You were more firm this time, your palm pressing to her shoulder, barely tugging but still motioning for her to turn her over. She refused.

“I’m okay, (Y/N). Go back to sleep.” Her voice was low. It sounded tired, sure, but almost as if she was trying to pass it off like you woke her up. You weren’t buying any of it.

“JJ,” you sighed in disappointment. “Turn over.” At your request, you felt JJ’s entire body tense next to you, but you weren’t going to give in. “Please, Jennifer.”

After a moment, JJ let out a long sigh and then finally did what you asked. You made no move to scoot back, wanting to be close to your wife and to try to make out her facial expressions in the moonlight that peered through your bedroom window. When she was finally facing you, that’s when you realized just how close you two were laying. You could feel her steady breathing as she lay next to you and you tried to remember the last time you two were this close. Your hand immediately reached out to her cheek to wipe her tears. It was half a gesture to confirm what you already knew, that she had indeed been crying, and half to comfort her. Either way, it was a bold move on your part, considering the way JJ has been avoiding you like the plague for so long. Yet, she let you do it. She didn’t pull away, didn’t dodge your touch, she let you continue to brush your thumb over her cheek and catch the tears that you could feel were still falling.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered again. JJ’s hand moved up to yours and for a moment you feared she was going to push you away, but she surprised you when she pressed her palm to the back of your hand and held it there.

After a moment of silence and stillness she finally spoke. “I thought I lost you,” her voice sounded hesitant yet raw as she finally started to let you in. “In the dream and when you… when that-”

“I know,” You interrupted. It only made sense to you that she was having the same recurring dream as you, but you also knew those dreams were bringing up fears of the very real events that happened. You moved closer to her. Close enough to press your forehead to hers and you stayed like that for a moment. You tried to take in every single second, because you feared it would be awhile before you could feel her this close again. Even if your wife was feeling scared and you had both woken from a terrible dream, you didn’t much care what brought you this opportunity, you were just glad you were getting it. “But I’m still here.”

You felt her head nod and the hand still pressed to yours, in a surprising move, slipped down to press against your chest. She was feeling your heartbeat, you realized immediately, trying to find comfort and confirmation in it that what you said was true. That you were still here to live another day, that she hadn’t lost the love of her life because her biggest fears came true and her job jeopardized the safety of her wife.

“JJ I-” your voice broke before you could catch it. It was obvious this moment was overwhelming you, but you couldn’t hold back anymore. “I miss you so much.”

With those words, JJ’s heart broke as she took in just how much you were hurting. You didn’t have to say a lot for her to read you. She knew you and deep down she knew she was hurting you. It killed her, but she was so wrapped up in her own head that she couldn’t stop herself. Convinced she was going to put you in any more danger or that you would disappear in the blink of an eye if she so much as lingered on you for one moment. But then she heard the anguish in your voice and she didn’t need to see your eyes to know the pain she’d see in them. She felt the slight tremble of your fingers as they remained against her cheek. Another tear fell for you as she fully came to understand the damage she had caused in the past few weeks with her behavior.

Without a word, she shifted so that she could reach your forehead and pressed a kiss to it. The first time you felt her lips upon her skin in so long and in that moment it absolutely broke you. Your hand slipped from her cheek and before you could really stop yourself you were grabbing onto her shirt with both your hands and pulling yourself closer to her body, tears falling freely as you laid there holding onto JJ for dear life.

“I’m so sorry,” JJ poured every ounce of emotion she had into those words, trying her best to convey to you that, yes, finally she did realize what she was doing. She realized in that moment all of a sudden that she needed to change, that she needed to be there for you. Through distance, she convinced herself she could keep you safer, that she wouldn’t break you, but she didn’t take into consideration what it was doing to you emotionally or even what it was doing to her. She missed you as much as you missed her, she craved you, craved to hold you. She knew every time you woke up from a nightmare, yet didn’t move a muscle and wouldn’t tell a soul that she was awake, waiting for you to fall back asleep too. She convinced herself she didn’t deserve your love, your touch, your comfort, not when she was the reason it was almost gone for good. She was punishing herself, but now she realized she was punishing you too and you didn’t deserve that, neither of you did. “Shh, please, stop crying,” She cooed, her arms coming around to pull you into her body.

Finally. Finally, you were in her arms. You knew you missed this feeling, but you didn’t realize how much until your senses were surrounded by her. You missed the feeling of her heartbeat, you missed the smell of her shampoo, you missed the gentle brush of her fingers through your hair when she would try to calm you down. And she was giving you all of the things you missed, but in the moment it felt like it could never be enough. Still you were so scared she’d go back to being cold as ice in the morning. So you kept trying to take in this moment.

Trying to calm your tears, your hands released their grip from her shirt only to cup her face and pull her down so your lips could meet hers. Your kiss wasn’t gentle, like you thought the first kiss would be once you both had healed. No, this was a tearfilled attempt to have more closeness with your wife. Your lips pressed to hers hard, and she was taken by surprise at your bold move, yet she didn’t pull away. Not right away at least.

You kept kissing her for a moment, your grip on the sides of her face a little too hard, yet it didn’t seem like either of you cared. In the back of JJ’s mind, she knew it would be best to stop this soon, but she also missed the feeling of you and the taste of your lips, so she indulged for just a moment.

When she felt your tongue start to run along her lips is when she finally pulled away. “Woah,” her voice was a whispered warning to slow down. You were still healing, fragile, you didn’t need to be this worked up right now. She needed to calm you down, to get you to rest again so you could properly heal. You didn’t want to rest though, fears of the morning after keeping you from calming down. “(Y/N)... you should try to sleep.”

“I don’t want to.” It sounded more like you pleading than a statement. “I don’t want things to go back to how they were in the morning. I can’t handle it anymore JJ, I just can’t. It’s too much. It’s-”

“They won’t.” JJ cut off your desperate rambling. The arms that were around you gently squeezed you as she held you. “I know I’ve been hurting you, I won’t anymore.”

Your body relaxed a little at her words, but still you kept both your hands on her face. Terrified to let go of her for even a second, worried she would leave your bed and never come back. She leaned back in for a gentle kiss, this time it was her guiding it. You felt yourself melt into her even more and with each press of her lips to yours it was like all your pain the past few weeks was washing away. How you missed your wife’s touch so much. With a simple kiss it felt like your heart was finally mending. You believed her words, you knew she was still healing from this trauma just as much as you were and it wouldn’t just go back to normal after one night, but finally you knew there would be a change. Finally, you knew the old JJ was coming back to you. Still, you didn’t want to sleep. Still you wanted more of your wife. Blame it on the long wait, blame it on greed, or the desperate need to be reassured that she still loved and wanted you after weeks of the cold shoulder. Who knows, but once you felt her lips on you again you couldn’t stop yourself from needing more.

“I don’t want to sleep yet…” you mumbled against her lips, your hands slipping from her face to run down her chest and stomach. You, yet again, tried to deepen the kiss, your tongue peaking out to trace her bottom lip. This time, JJ didn’t pull away as quickly as before, her lips parting so you could hesitantly brush your tongue against hers. But when JJ started to feel your hands dip under her shirt and press to her bare stomach, that’s when she pulled away again.

“(Y/N)...” She warned, her lips still so close they were brushing against yours as she spoke. “We can’t do this tonight. I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you mumbled as your lips fell to her jaw, kissing along it as slowly as possible. JJ’s arms moved from around your body to still the hands that were slowly creeping up her shirt. Her grip was loose though, hesitant even. You could tell her resolve was weak. Truthfully, she didn’t want to stop you either. The moment she kissed you it felt like a fire reawakened in her and she didn’t want the feeling to go away. She wanted to feel you close. Feel your skin on her skin. For some reason, she felt like it was the only way to ensure that this all wasn’t a dream. But she also knew you were still healing, still fragile and breakable, and if she did anything to hurt you again she didn’t think she could live through that.

But then your lips were trailing down to her neck and she could tell that this meant more to you than she could ever possibly realize. She could tell that you needed to feel wanted, comforted, and close to her. To deny you felt impossible. “I need you,” you whispered against her skin and that’s when every ounce of willpower went out the window. “Just be gentle.”

JJ’s hands finally slipped from your wrists. With the utmost care, she pushed you to lie on your back. “If anything hurts,” JJ began as her hands began to pull at the elastic of your pajama pants. “You need to tell me immediately.” You just nodded in response, your hands moving to brush hair from her face as she looked down at you in the moonlight.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her heart was racing and so was yours. It felt almost as if it was the first time between you two all over again. Every time JJ touched you she did it with so much control and gentleness. Her hands caressed every inch of your body and it almost felt as if she was trying to pour every ounce of love she withheld from you the past few weeks into this one moment.

With her lips traveling all over your body and your hands roaming hers with every chance you got, it didn’t take long for you to become a dripping wet mess for her. When she finally sunk her hand down between your legs to where you wanted her most you both groaned at the contact. It had been too long and never had you wanted to feel her like this as badly as you did in this very moment.

When two fingers slid into you, she did it at an infuriatingly slow pace. It was partially driving you crazy, how slow and gentle she was being, but you also knew that this is how JJ needed to feel you, how she needed to love you. So, you tried to be patient, tried to take her in slowly, even if your body felt as if it was on fire the moment her hands began to roam.

She made love to you gently. Perhaps more gentle than she had ever been. Not that JJ was always one to be rough, but before the incident she had a hunger for you that was very clear in the way she touched you. She took what she wanted from you and you tried to keep up. Now, however, she was careful. In every moment, every stroke of her finger, she took her time, but she was also taking you in. Every sigh you made when her fingers pressed down in a spot you particularly liked, every twitch of your hips as her fingers slid out only to push back in, every quiet moan you let out when you felt her thumb brush against your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

JJ didn’t want to hurt you, and that’s partially why she was going so slow, but another part of it was that she didn’t want this moment to end. In the morning, she meant it, things wouldn’t go back to how they were, but she knew that in the morning there would be more talk, more tears, more pain to work through. So for now, she just wanted to be with you. To be with her wife who she almost lost, who she almost pushed away, who she absolutely couldn’t live without.

With your shirt pushed up your chest and her lips latched onto your nipple, she relished in the taste of your skin and the feeling of you almost completely bare beneath her. It only took a few more strokes of her fingers inside of you before you were falling apart, and the way your body moved as she drove you closer to an orgasm had her mesmerized. Everything felt so much more intense after everything that had transpired. She didn’t realize just how much she needed this too, until she felt you tighten around her fingers as you came to your release.

When you finally came down from your orgasm all JJ wanted to do was keep going. She wanted to touch you more, wanted you to touch her and you wanted the same. But she still worried for your health and didn’t want to push it. The way your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath gave her the indication that perhaps even this was a little too much for one night. But she pushed that fear down for now, deciding instead to hold you and make sure you fall back asleep.

JJ rolled to your side again, pulling you with her this time into a close embrace. You began to protest, not wanting to stop, wanting to return the favor, but JJ was quick to shush you. She explained that there would always be tomorrow night if you felt rested and well enough after what you both had just done tonight. With the mention of there being a tomorrow like that, it was all you needed to hear to give in. In all honesty, you were tired too. Still not having the same stamina as you once did. You knew it would come back, that you would heal, that your relationship would too. All in good time.

JJ stroked your hair as she held you, feeling your breathing calm as you fell asleep. Her eyes closed slowly as she pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. In the darkness of the room, before drifting to sleep too she whispered, “I won’t let anything hurt you ever again.”

A/N: Well, there you have it! The end of the series. Hope you enjoyed <3

taglist: @desperate-gay @melatonindaydreamz @high--power @mmmmokdok @comebackbehere23 @pintsizedshawty @daddy-jareau @mychemicalimagines @7thavenger @throwawayfanfics @leecravesdeath @olliethedonut @zoomdeathknight @storiesofsvu

#jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau x reader #jj #jj x reader #criminal minds #wlw #fanfic #hell or high water series #five-bi-five-mind

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torchu212 · 1 year ago

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Pokemon Movie Brain Blast

You know this scene in the credits of Spell of the Unown (M03)? In case you don't know, that woman is Molly Hale's mother. According to Takeshi Shudo (OG head writer), he asked for a copy of the final draft of the script, and it turned out the explanation was she was in the hospital for the entire movie. Shudo was not happy.

This was a very personal story to him, written with aspects of his own life in mind (Molly's Japanese name is Me, after Shudo's own daughter, and her mother was intended to be dead like his own). But as production went on, he was in no condition (he even landed in the hospital himself!) and eventually no mood to continue writing, so he asked fellow series writer and father Hideki Sonoda to take his stead. For most of the movie, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference. This scene, however, became a major sticking point for Shudo as well as numerous fans for betraying the original intentions behind the story and Molly's character.

...But what if I told you that the dub fixed EVERYTHING about it?

On the DVD commentary for Mewtwo Strikes Back (M01), Michael Haigney (English writer/director) and Norman J. Grossfeld (English writer/producer) talk a bit how certain lines were added in an effort to explain things they felt didn't make sense in the original Japanese version. For example, the Tears of Life (pictured above) is set up as an old legend in the dub, while it goes unexplained in the Japanese version and both versions of MSB Evolution (M22).

In a similar vein (as explained on M03's own commentary), the dub implies that, rather than being dead, Mrs. Hale was also researching the Unown before being captured by them. While it was likely written with the short term in mind, this explanation not only fixes her sudden appearance in the ED, but also adds to the story in two major ways.

1: Molly having both of her parents be absentee Pokemon researchers taken away by the Unown allows the dub to maintain her initial loneliness and rationale without her mother dead and thus the ED contradicting the story. While it's further removed from the "dead mother" idea, it resolves the logical failing Sonoda introduced: "If Molly's mom was in the hospital the whole time, why didn't she visit her? Why have Entei kidnap Ash's mom?"

2: By having the explanation for Mrs. Hale's absence be that she was taken by the Unown much like Spencer would be in the movie's inciting incident, it adds a personal layer to why he's so feverishly researching them; not only to document their existence, but so he can find a way to bring his wife back, not unlike Dr. Fuji perfecting cloning to revive his daughter in M01's extended prologue, The Birth of Mewtwo.

Implying that Mrs. Hale went through a similar experience also makes it easy to infer that the Unown returned her to Molly as well. (Side note: This scene was originally part of the ED as well, but was moved up to take place right after Greenfield turns back to normal; another smart decision on the dub's part.)

Rewriting the story is frowned upon among the anime community, as it's often perceived as compromising the original vision and integrity. But Spell of the Unown already had it happen when Sonoda wrote the most controversial scene of the movie, a moment so opposed to Shudo's intent that he quit the series entirely not long after. This scene (and therefore, the entire story) was fixed because 4Kids were allowed to make the changes they did. They made a great movie even better, they held true to the themes and character, and they didn't even have to re-kill Mrs. Hale to do it.

#animation #anime #pokemon #pokemon movies #spell of the unown #analysis #4kids dub #4kids entertainment

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twdgkidsdeservebetter · 8 months ago

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Comparing my two TWD fics featuring Ben Paul as a main character

Basically, I've written 2 fanfictions that feature Ben Paul from twdg as the main protagonist. Both are 100k+ words and I only really consider one complete.

(None of these have been published btw)

Story 1 is about Ben surviving in TWD Game. He survives season 1 and becomes the guardian of Clementine & Duck. It was written in 2021 and has not been touched since. Currently, the last chapter is at the ski lodge cabin w/ Kenny in season 2.

Story 2 is about Ben surviving in TWD Show. He joins Rick going to Atlanta and joins the main group. Several characters fates have been changed. It was started in mid-2023 and I'm still currently writing it to this day. Seasons 1-5 have been written, season 6 has just begun.

Below are comparisons I've noticed while rereading story 1.

First person vs third person

Story 1 is written entirely in 1st person. Older me feels physically sick and confused with younger me because why? I cannot name a single one of my WIPs that are written in first person. Story 2 is written entirely in third-person omniscient, which I find a lot easier to read/write.

2. Ben is OOC for the most part

In both stories Ben is more capable as a survivour and is more confident in his abilities and expressing himself. Both stories show Ben learning how to fight walkers early on, however TWDG Ben is more nervous compared to my TWD Ben. TWD Ben is more confident and humorous compared to TWDG Ben.

3. Skipping scenes?

In story 1, I never skip any scenes from the game. Everything has been written exactly how it plays out in the game besides changing certain things like character fates and such. In story 2 however, I skip a lot of scenes because the scene either;

A. Doesn't have Ben in it nor does it make sense to write him into the scene.

B. I did not feel like writing it so I skipped it entirely.

4. Ben's relationships with other survivours

In story 2, I flesh out a lot of the relationships with Ben and the other survivours. I put a lot more detail and effort into developing relationships, but in story 1, I hardly do that. I would say Ben is the closest with Doug in story 1, besides Clementine and Duck.

5. Quantity and Quality

Both stories currently have a word count of over 100k. Story 2 (TWD) has beaten story 1 (TWDG) in the word count, with 150k words. By comparing both of my stories, it's clear that I've put a lot more effort into story 2. There's a lot more detail dedicated to describing locations and characters compared to story 1.

I'm thinking of rewriting story 1 at some point, by putting more detail and changing it from first person to third-person omniscient.

Do you want more details of my stories?

#twdg ben #twdg #twd #ben paul #fanfiction #fanfic #twdg ben paul #the walking dead #telltalegames #telltale #telltale the walking dead

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real-life-senshi · 1 year ago

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for the pgsm subtitles, I was wondering if you knew if the seaofserenity subs are more accurate than the ones you're watching? that was the version I watched, and I'm curious to know the difference.

thank you so much!

Hello hello!

Yes, I can confirm seaofserenity subs have better translation and subtitle quality than Miss Dream subs! It's generally more accurate and has a better grasp of the nuance in the Japanese dialogue!

Here's an example comparison using the scene I was most critical of for mistranslation with the Miss Dream sub.

Seaofserenity sub

Miss Dream sub (+ my own re-translation)

The fact the Seaofserenity managed to eloquently include the piece I mentioned about Ami aiming for "100 points" into its subtitle as a "perfect score" shows they are much more proficient in writing subtitles than I am as well!

However, as you can see from my screenshot, the copy rendered by Seaofserenity has a stretched video ratio horizontally, turning PGSM's 4:3 video ratio into 16:9. The visual colour quality is also a bit off (slightly faded)with Seaofserenity. As a video editor, gif maker and visual-quality snob, that's why I went with Miss Dream with live blogging. haha

That being said though, a perfect translation across languages is nearly impossible to achieve. While Seaofserenity sub is generally more accurate, they still may not always be catching the same nuances from the original dialogue I bring up in my live blog.

Another example from this scene is this:

Miss Dream sub & my own re-translation

Seaofserenity subs

Both Miss Dream and Seaofserenity translated "ura" as "dark", instead of "hidden" like I did.

I hope this helps, and hope you get to enjoy watching the show! :D

While I know you were only asking basically a Yes/No question, I want to also take this chance to explain myself a bit better...

While I have been critical of Miss Dream's sub, it's important for me to continue to reiterate that the efforts Miss Dream sub has made for this fandom are tremendously positive and should be celebrated, and the only reason why I can make those critiques and go deep into semantics is that I'm NOT actually trying to sub a show fully. It's incredibly hard to rewrite a script and try to make every single line cohesively written, especially when Japanese has such a different grammar structure. I can do what I do when live blogging because I can both "re-translate" and have the space to explain myself. When you are actually subbing a full episode, not to mention a full series, that space for explanation does not exist and you can only make the best choice forward. I would also weigh writing a good story through the scripted lines above aiming for full accuracy. At the end of the day, both Miss Dream and Seaofserenity undoubtedly delivered a great story to non-Japanese, English-speaking audiences via subbing the live-action!

I'm also not sure about Seaofserenity and Miss Dream sub if either subtitle team members are fluent Japanese speakers, or may include native Japanese speakers or not. Where I do feel very fortunate is I'm Cantonese born and grew up in an environment where Cantonese and English are simultaneously being regularly used, which means trying to translate and navigate two languages with significantly different grammar structures is quite second nature to me in my mind to catch all these nuances. Japanese grammar and vocabulary are much more relatable and connected to Cantonese/Chinese than English, so that gives me an edge in understanding some of the cultural and linguistic context just from hearing the dialogue, including recognizing and grasping the full meaning of words or idioms that English just doesn't have a direct equivalent for.

I also studied linguistics in my undergraduate studies with a special interest in semantics, so analyzing text and going hard on explanation is something I'm very used to and enjoy. lmao

#khmyh replies #anonymous #khmyh translates #pgsm act 16

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my-mt-heart · 1 year ago

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I'm anon about the "wind". Your answer to another question now is that Zabel doesn't understand Daryl's character, and I agree with you. and so my point of view is that Zabel is not behind shipbait. I think it's Norman's idea. yes, he is not responsible for everything. but he has influence, and he's the only one who knows his character or knows what makes people talk about him. and since Daryl is now alone, without his family and the people who identified him, they move on to a simple bait… and it all looks like rewriting the story with Leah and someone else

Okay, got it, thank you for following up. I agree that Zabel wouldn't have any interest in riling Caryl fans up. I don't think he was that knowledgeable of the fanbase. There's evidence he read Caryl scenes for his own purposes (or someone's purposes), but I don't think he was knowledgeable of Caryl's relationship or Daryl's and Carol's individual characters the way a showrunner who's written on TWD for many years or fans who actually watched the show from beginning to end would be knowledgeable. Until Melissa signed on for S2, Zabel was writing for his original character, Isabelle, and for Daryl, who he is treating like an original character in a lot of ways. Like @that-left-turn pointed out, he used to write for network TV where it's standard to tease something between the male and female leads. That's why I think he's leaning in that direction even though nothing will come of it in the end. So basically, his mistake was not bothering to do his homework, which is a huge fucking mistake in my book. I'm not saying he's solely responsible for the shipbaiting, but he is the reason why the shipbaiting could turn out to be the worst we've seen so far.

Then of course, there's AMC who have always relied on shipbaiting for engagement and apparently this time overestimated the fans' patience for it. And there's Norman who for some reason has to be marketed as the show's most eligible bachelor. Of all the players, I would've hoped he'd speak up on something that wasn't doing justice to the character he's played for over a decade. Based on what I've observed so far, I'm wary, but I think the fair thing for me to do is wait until S1 is over before I go further. The point I'm making right now is that the shipbaiting is a team effort, and like other Carylers have said elsewhere, I think it's helpful to call it out. All it does is insult everyone from the fans to the character to the actors who deserve so much better. If no one acknowledges it as the failure it is, then AMC will take that as permission to keep doing it.

Again, this is just my opinion as someone who's trying to pay attention to as much as possible and hear as many voices as possible. If not having the emotional capacity to watch the show from beginning to end invalidates my opinion, you are free to ignore it. Judge for yourself.

#caryl #caryl spinoff #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #darylneedscarol

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dextixer · 2 years ago

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The tricky issues of RWBY rewrites, their value and community acceptance

For a long time now, RWBY has received criticisms for its various aspects. For most people it results in just offering what is wrong with the show and maybe sometimes fixes to specific aspects of it. Some people however, take it further and either offer up entire scene/character rewrites or go extreme and start large-scale projects to rewrite the entire show. Suffice to say, these rewrites run into many issues during their creation, i would like to cover some of them here.

I am doing this mainly because this will allow me a better segue way into starting my reviews of the FRWBY (Fixing RWBY) rewrite project and maybe some others.

The subjectivity of rewrites

The first thing that has to be covered is a very simple but important statement.

Rewrites and their perceived quality is SUBJECTIVE

It is often that i see various people denigrate rewrite projects by stating that the rewrite project is not better than the original show, that it is arrogance to think that they CAN be better or to even have an opinion that they ARE better.

Just like with criticism of the show RWBY. Everyone should understand that this entire field is a subjective one. What i might find to be a problem with RWBY might not be a problem for another, what i might like in a rewrite might be something that someone else dislikes.

That is the nature of creation of art. And we all have to remember that.

This also applies to the people who seem to nearly worship rewrite efforts, almost automatically considering them a net-good for the community. There were so many people before the release of Ice: Queendom that clamored for it to be a rewrite, that said that it would be better than what RWBY gave us. And that was BEFORE even seeing the damn anime.

Neither the show or the rewrites are inherently better than one another.

Subjectivity is also a very important part of the next point too.

How much can you change and stay RWBY?

The question of how much one can change from canon and still remain "RWBY" is a constant in any rewrite project that exists, and not only rewrite but also fanfictions. It is an often seen critique that people levy against fanfictions and rewrites, that they have nothing to do with RWBY or its characters, and that it should be an "original work" instead of carrying the RWBY association.

This however ignores the point that even ones perception of what RWBY is is, well, subjective as talked about before.

Let us take the character of Mercury. If you take him away from RWBY. Is it still RWBY? I would say that yes because his character is not needed. But i am sure that some people would say no to that too.

Is RWBY still RWBY if we remove Salem and instead only have the Grimm to contend with? It is a large change, but does it change the entire show to be unrecognizable? In my opinion no, but i think many would see it as a away too massive change.

This also ties in with ones criticism of the show. In my opinion the existence of Salem makes the show actively worse, and that more could be done with its many subplots if she did not exist. For others, she might be a key part in the story.

Thats what people have to understand, rewrites/fanfictions massive changes can still be RWBY. It depends way too much on our personal perception of the show and the world itself. The thing about specific works is that they are HEAVILY open to even most massive of changes while still remaining the same series of works. The things that are KEY to the setting are usually extremelly specific.

In my opinion as long as Huntsmen, Aura, Dust, Grimm and the 4 kingdoms are kept relatively intact, most other things can be changed and you would still have a RWBY story. All stories are like that. Its why so many stories are open to prequels. Its why so many worlds are open to be explored at different times, with different characters.

This is why for example i reject rewrites like the RWBY: Noir rewrite that was announced a few years ago. It just wasnt RWBY. It was some kind of detective: Noir story. And that just isnt RWBY.

Value as criticism

Deconstructing RWBY by reconstructing it is how i have seen someone describe criticism of RWBY through writing a rewrite. It is often said that the best way to entrench ones knowledge or to show what one has learned is to teach that thing to others, its to be able to understand it and then recreate it. The same goes for writing.

If one is analyzing the show, sees a problem and then proposes a solution. Is that any different from a full on rewrite? The only difference is the overall size of the project, but the core of it is the same. What is seen as a problem is replaced by a solution.

Let us say i removed Mercury from RWBY. The problem is that there are too many characters. The solution is to remove Mercury in a rewrite. Is that not criticism, or an action born out of criticism?

In my opinion it very much is.

Rewrites are a powerful tool not only to point out what might be wrong with the series, but what is also good about it. If a rewrite does something badly, the person watching it can go "huh, this is worse than the show", criticism of the rewrite turns into appreciation of the original.

It is very much a two-way street with both works, the rewrite and original. They can both be used to criticize each other and thus lead people to disliking both or liking both.

This is very much why i think that rewrites are very much a part of criticism and why so many people in the critical RWBY communities have taken up fanfiction writing and rewriting of the series. Because all of these things are connected.

Acceptance and rejection

I do have to note that in my opinion, a lot of rewrite projects are unfairly maligned. The previous points were made to illustrate the subjectivity of rewrites and the show itself. I do not expect people to like rewrites if they are not to their taste, or bad in their opinion.

What i also would not like to expect is rewrites to be maligned just because they "dare" to exist. And that often happens. My interest in FRWBY grew partially because there are seemingly groups of people who want that project to fail, it is often that i find talks about it, bet it in defence of it, or criticizing it.

But it is not limited to large-scale projects either. The Youtuber Calxiyn not too long ago made her own rewrite of the backstory of Cinder. While for the most part people engaged with it well, she also received her own share of hate for making the rewrite in the first place. Just because it was a rewrite.

The word itself has received a negative connotation, it is seen as something inherently negative. As something that is inherently "arrogant".

And in my opinion rewrite projects should not be as dismissed out of hand as they are now, and that people should be more willing to acknowledge that their mileage may vary with any rewrite projects due to their inherent subjectivity.

Ending Word

I think that about covers the parts of the topic i wanted to discuss. This is partly because of my intention to push the RWBY critic server, if at all possible to somewhat cater more to fanfic writers and authors of rewrites, partially because of their close association to critique. Partially because i will be covering some rewrites in the future. And of course partially to try and make the community of RWBY more amenable and receptive to rewrites in general.

Besides that, tommorow, if everything goes well i am planning for my RWBY: Arowfell thread about its relation to the canon show and inconsistencies to be made. Besides that, any opinions agreements or disagreements are welcome, as always.

#rwby #rwde #rwby rewrite #frwby

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noridoorman · 1 year ago

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I'm not saying you're being weird for thinking that the story has been re-written/some things have been reconned but it's weird how you keep on insisting that Uzi is underage and N is not, making Nuzi shippers sound like pedos or pro-shippers, THAT'S weird.

Also, like... you're being really agressive and rude so why are you surprised that people return the same energy you give to them? I don't agree with most of your points but would have moved on if it weren't for the fact that you're being unecessarily rude to everyone.

I agree that the story probs went through a re-write at around ep1's release but for reasons different than yours. Liam confirmed that it was meant to be two friend walking into a tundra until he added more and more into the story, making it what it is today. But I doubt Nuzi was at it's peak back then (back in EP 1) because I've seen very often people consider them more like siblings than lovers (plus, Thad wasn't completely forgotten).

However, right around EP2 Glitch posted a picture that had Beau in it and at that point the season was probably finished in terms or writing and I doubt there were any more rewrites/retcones at that point, because animating, voice acting and directing takes a lot of time and effort and I don't think Glitch could afford doing last second changes to appease the fans. Right before (or at least in the middle of the Pilots release date between EP2) EP2 dropped (which had more people consider N and Uzi siblings and that spark scene between V and N) was when the script was final.

Anyway, I'm not gonna waste my time anymore on this cause I don't think either of us can change each other's opinion so I'm gonna stay in my comfortable little nuzi circle and you stay in whatever circle makes you feel comfortable; cause at the end of the day, showing appreaciation for the things you like than hate for the things you dislike not only encourages and motivates but is better on ones mental health in the long run :] /gen

Rant warning, if you can't handle someone not liking Nuzi, don't read mkay?

When some Nuzi's shippers will stop gaslighting everyone that they ship was "meant" since the begining(sudden age up of students yet Uzi is still called a kid, Thad not being important after episode 2) and stop victimizing themselves with their ship being "hated" (lmao maybe im so unlucky but i beraly seen any rant against Nuzi, only praise and whine of how people is mean to this ship), sun will blow

Hated my ass

P. S. Stop giving Glitch or Liam too much faith, just because it's not mainstream web product doesn't mean it somehow would better than comercial stuff. I don't say they are bad or something like this, don't put words and accusations in my mouth

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myonepiece · 3 years ago

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wano jealousy

zoro x reader

warnings: themes of cheating kind of i guess ? but no actual cheating, angst, that hiyori and zoro scene

(rewrite 😩) i've had to watch that clip so many times to refresh my memory and get the feel, i hate it, my heart hurts

you had been in that half-awake-half-asleep state since you weren't able to sleep the night before, too worried about your boyfriend's condition despite being assured it was nothing serious and knowing it was nothing serious because of your firsthand experiences. you had managed to fall back asleep a few times, resting your hand on zoro's chest as he hugged you to his chest, only after ten minutes of watching him and. tracing patterns into the warm flesh of his chest would you fall back asleep- only to wake up forty minutes later everytime. so when brook had invited you out with him, you accepted thinking it'd be a good idea to try and wake yourself up. when. you had left, the kind, and sort of obnoxious woman who'd been helping you and the crew, was nowhere to be seen.

by the time you and brook returned back to the house, you hadn't been able to find more energy, but you wore a soft smile at the. thought of seeing zoro again even though it'd only been a few hours.

zoro had been dead asleep, with very short moments when he'd wake up and just go right back to sleep. at one point he'd woken up and hiyori had been sitting down next to him, before sprawling out and tucking herself against him. even in his sleepy state, something about it felt wrong,

"what are you doing?...." he had mumbled.

"just laying down, i'm cold and you're warm, don't worry." the young lady had replied. zoro was still confused, and felt like something was wrong, but he was on the edge of sleep again and he barely knew anything about things containg physical interaction that's not violent- so he fell back asleep once again.

the next time he woke up was when he heard brook's calling, he burst through the door just as zoro was opening his eyes, and at first he wasn't going to do anything, then brook screamed. zoro shot up halfway, unable to as he found that hiyori was cuddled against his side with her hand on his chest. zoro, yelled out but made no effort to push the other woman off, too shocked and confused to do anything- what hiyori was doing was something you did, and zoro thought that that was something only you did.. afterall you were the only one he'd actually let (and like).

"ah y/n-san don't look!" brook called, making zoro's head shoot up at the mention of you. your head soon appeared at the doorway peaking under brook's arm, which the skeleton had used to try and hide the scene.

"why?" you mumbled, pushing up brook's sleeve and looking into the room, with your small sleepy smile instantly dropping along with zoro's heart. he didn't actually know what was going on, but your expression made it clear something was very wrong. within seconds you quickly turned and ran off into the snow, and zoro was instantly pushing hiyori off of him ignoring the way she hit the wall, as well as ignoring his bandages as he followed you.

with your previous tiredness gone and anxiety as it's replacement, you ignored zoro's calls and hurried through the snow until your legs felt too heavy and you began walking, still ignoring zoro as he got closer.

"Y/N!! stop! please!" zoro barreled into you, grabbing onto your arms to keep you from turning away and running away again.

"go away zoro, i don't want to see you right now." you mumbled on the verge of tears with your eyes trained on the ground,

"just tell me what i did first. why are you so upset?" he asked.

you took a shaky breath trying to hold yourself together, and not collapse into zoro's arms.

"why.. why was h-hiyori cuddling with you? you could h-have at least broken up with me.." zoro looked like you had just pulled devil fruit out of nowhere, and he let his arms fall to his sides.

"she had told me she was cold, i just thought she was going to sit next to me. i was asleep!! nothing happened i swear!" he quickly said.

"i- i still don't like it zoro, i know that i'm kind of clingy.. and maybe possessive, but i just don't like her being close to you at all. i'm sorry.." you said, finally looking up at him. zoro doesn't understand completely, no surprise there, but he somewhat gets how you feel when someone else is in such a position with him, he get's upset just thinking about the situation in reverse.

"you're just, not supposed to let other girls do that when you're with me..."

"i'm sorry. i'm really sorry. i'm new to this, i don't know what i'm supposed to do or not do when it's shit like that. it felt wrong doing it, but i just assumed it was okay because it wasn't flirty or romantic or 'kissy'."

you smiled slightly at his words, it was sweet that he'd told you that, and you know that he doesn't know the do's and don't's of romantic relationships.

"i promise i won't do anything like that again, i hated it anyway. just, give me a little more time and I'll.. be a better boyfriend. i promise."

a sigh left your lips and you stared up at zoro, looking as stoic as ever, then you nodded.

"'m really sorry i freaked out." you said staring back down at the snowy ground. all of a sudden, you were yanked forward against zoro's body, and you caught yourself with your hands against zoro's bandage clad chest.

"it's fine, i like when you're possessive." a smirk was evident in his voice and you smiled into his chest, sliding your hands off his banages and under his arms to hug him closer. the swordsman tightened his embrace, the dipped his head down and nudged yours making you look towards him, finding him with his eyes closed and his rough lips pressing against yours firmly.

#one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece headcanons #zoro x reader #zoro imagine #zoro headcanons #zoro #one piece angst

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rigginsstreet · 2 years ago

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also the way the show asks us to believe max's perception of billy and the things she says when she's suicidal/depressed/self hating as 100% truth is soooooooooo stupid 2 me. not saying shes not perceptive but shes DEPRESSED AND 14 AND TORTURING HERSELF HER THOUGHTS ARE NOT OBJECTIVE FACT.

this show can only spoon feed its audience and doesn't ask us to think critically about max's thoughts/feelings at all and it does max such a disservice because her storyline this season should have been about working through her lifetime of existing struggles as well as what happened to billy at the end of s3 and instead she got to do none of that and then died???? no one challenged her darkest thoughts and the awful headspace she was in at all... and for the show to act like they're all fact is so insulting to her.

like she says her darkest fear about herself is that she stood there and didn't try to save billy bc deep down she thought he deserved it.... that's literally not what happened obviously she couldn't run and make it to billy on time and save his life because she was frozen in shock and across the room and also 13 yrs old in the face of an interdimensional monster? in the moment she was absolutely not condemning him 2 death and choosing to stand still that's literally ridiculous and anyone could tell her that and help put her mind at rest.... but no one tells her that. that's what she fears about herself when shes literally torturing herself about what happened all this time.

cuz i absolutely believe she wished billy wouldn't come home some days because she was scared of him, he was angry and unpredictable and making her life harder and shes just a kid who is gonna have thoughts that arent the kindest, and now shes so ashamed of thinking that that its contributing to her suicidal thoughts... and instead of showing how their relationship got to that point and why billy was the way he was and why max should now forgive herself and gesturing towards any kind of complicated sibling relationship for them which would be so rewarding they just ask us to take her thoughts at face value bye.... I'm saying so much omg all my feelings are coming out

max truly cannot get a break like the show is not making any effort to give her peace and is validating her suicidal thoughts by saying they're true. and billy cannot get a break cuz they're trashing his character and actively making the show worse as a result. disturbed.

Exactly like I don’t have an issue with max having wished billy would crash his car or whatever she said but the way they tried to entirely rewrite their dynamic in season 3 ???? No ma’am. She starts the season talking to El about billy in a very stereotypical younger sibling way there was no animosity there anymore she was like “billys gross lol” and then she goes into denial about him being possessed BECAUSE SHE DOESNT WANT HIM TO BE and she’s crying in the sauna scene like… y’all know damn well no one was writing her as a someone actively wishing for billys death or thinking he didn’t deserve to be saved. But they admit to not rewatching their own show so… there you go.

And the complete 180 from Max’s letter in dear billy to volume 2???? The absolute fuck was that about none of it is making any sense!! Max cared! On some level she knew things could’ve been different for them! But nobody gives a shit about consistent writing or god forbid we have complex characters and relationships I hate it here

#briana answers things

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quillsanddaydreams · 4 years ago

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i don't like you

james potter x reader

—author's note: This was a story from my main that I adored so I thought why not rewrite it? The plot is the same, my ability to tell a story however, has changed. James and you do not like each other. Not even a bit. I hope you enjoy ;) Please do leave a comment, it makes my day.

—warning(s): couple of harmless pranks, slytherin! gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren't used).

—word count: 3,431

Groaning, you got up and squinted to make out the details of your dorm. Shouts and rushing made your head thump. You slowly realized a god-awful smell was filling up your room, quicker than you could think. Squeezing your nose shut, you rushed out. Other Slytherins were alongside you, you could hear coughing all around. Your eyes pricked with tears, your throat felt raw. Seeing a very familiar messy dark-haired boy run away jeering; you sensed rage gripping your form like a vice.

Third time. It was the third time the same week that Potter and the elder Black brother had pranked you all. Except it wasn’t funny anymore. That was what pranks were supposed to be right? Something that made everyone laugh along? Looking towards Elodie who was clenching her eyes shut at the sensation, you made a plan in your mind. You knew it was crazy. But when did that ever stop you? James had never conversed with you. Nor you, him. Yet it was clear that he did not like Slytherins. Not one bit.

-♡♡♡-

James yawned, stretching his limbs for a new day. Scrunching his nose, he felt a flowery scent attack him. Maybe it was just Sirius with one of his experiments. Shrugging, he got up and into the shower. That day he had transfiguration, charms, and astronomy. Thankfully nothing with the snakes, they might still be sour about the prank they pulled yesterday. Getting out of the washroom, he hummed to himself as he passed Peter who was still fast asleep. Remus was asleep and Sirius was furiously scribbling on his homework. Always finishing at the last moment.

He didn’t realize the uniform he was putting on until he looked at himself in the mirror. And boy oh boy did he panic. Eyes widening almost comically, he rummaged through his wardrobe, everything a dark green color with silver accents. A note fell at his feet.

“Dearest Marauders,

Take this beautiful gift of green robes from me. I know not all of you deserved this, but then again, I didn't feel like any of you should be left behind. I know how much you love us, Slytherins. Why not showcase it?

With love,

(Y/n) (Y/l/n)”

“Sirius! Remus!” he called out. “Wormtail!”

Sirius didn’t even look up from his parchment, Remus let out a grunt in response. The only answer he got was a faint ‘what’ from the shared bathroom.

“Mates listen to this,” James said firmly, reading the letter out loud. That got their attention. “Our robes are all green. Vivid Slytherin green!”

Remus got up suddenly, with wide eyes rushing to check his almirah. He groaned loudly on finding them in the same predicament James foretold grass-like and smelling heavily of flowers. Sirius however, started crackling.

“What?” James bellowed, his nostrils flaring.

“Well, the sarcasm in that letter is…” He snorted, stopping himself seeing James’s frown. James shook his head as Remus glared at them both.

“This has a strong one-week dye,” he said, punctuating each word, infuriated. “There’s no way it can be removed before the expected time. Why should I suffer for all the things you two do?”

“And I am not suffering?” James quipped back as Remus just shook his head, huffing, and went back to his bed. James looked at Sirius who didn’t look worried at all.

“What? Aren’t you bothered at all?” James asked.

“I look great in everything,” he replied shrugging, making James want to punch him.

He dressed up quickly after, dashing out of the dorm towards the great hall. Ignoring the looks of the students from around and the snickers he looked for you amidst the Slytherin table. It was infuriating, how casually you ate your breakfast, almost oblivious. Stalking towards your place, he cleared his throat grabbing your attention. Your eyes sparkled amusedly, taking in his appearance.

“Why the hell did you do this?” he demanded.

“Now, that’s not a way to talk about the gift I gave you,” you said, batting your eyelashes as he scowled at you. You muttered a spell under your breath, waving your wand slightly before continuing. “I worked hard, you know?”

“You Slytherins are the best thing to walk on this planet!” he shouted before he could stop himself. His eyes grew large. Everyone’s attention now seemed to be on your table.

“Thank you, I know,” you smirked, challenging him. He narrowed his eyes on you.

“You put a speaking charm on me didn’t you?” he hissed as you put on an innocently sweet expression.

“Well, I thought you needed some help with words,” you prompted, getting better reactions than you hoped for. James growled, jumping up and down in annoyance. You tried not to laugh. Did. But the corners of your mouth turned up anyways. He looked like an idiot. The giggle you let out grabbed his attention, his cheeks turning a rosy red.

“I don’t like you,” he said in a rather squeaky voice.

“I don’t like you,” you retaliated. James hated himself for thinking the laugh you let out looking adorable. Anger, which was more of a frustration gawned on his skin. He knew exactly what he was going to do next. Giving you a sickly sweet smile, he enjoyed the slight shiver that went through your arm. Let the prank war begin.

-♡♡♡-

You rushed out of the bathroom, vexed. It had been a long exhausting day and this was the last thing you needed. Your skin was tinted green. Bright neon green. Elodie stared at you in stupor.

“What happened?” she asked and you couldn’t help the raucous whine that escaped your lips.

“I don’t know, okay? I was in the shower and after using soap, my skin turned freaking green,” you hissed as Elodie tried to calm you. You handed her a small piece of paper. “Oh and look what I found beside the shampoo bottle.”

Dear (Y/n),

A gift from me, to showcase your pride in your house. You could thank me later.

James.

P.S. This gift in no way means I’ve started liking you. I don’t.

“James. James did this; that bastard!” you said, nostrils flaring as Elodie rubbed your back.

“Well, it’s just hands and legs…”

“I'm gonna get back at him. Just watch me.”

Your jaw clenched. You knew just what you were gonna do. James started a fight with the wrong person. And you didn’t like him. At all.

-♡♡♡-

You were reading your book when you saw James pacing towards you, from the corner of your eye. Trying to keep a straight face, you fixed your gaze on the book in your hand. Yet you couldn’t help the twitch your mouth gave as he stood right in front of you, folding his arms.

“Wow,” he breathed through clenched teeth. You looked up.

“Real mature of you,” he said in a baby’s voice. It sounded like he pronounced everything through his nose. You made an effort not to start crackling right then.

“Well, one of us had to be, right?”

“Yeah. And giving me the baby voice makes you the adult.”

“I’d think so, yes.” You said brushing his hair. They were surprisingly soft. James glared at you.

“I don’t like you.” He squeaked as you raised an eyebrow.

“I thought we already established that. I don’t like you either boy,” You said, letting out a laugh.

-♡♡♡-

Adjusting your cap, you pulled your books closer to you. It was like everyone was staring at you. Specifically how stupid you looked. A whistle caught your attention. James, it had to be. When you turned towards the sound, you were sadly proved right.

“I like your cap,” he commented, clicking his tongue.

“Geez. Thank you. Just bought it,” you said, threateningly. Take one step James, I dare you; you thought. He didn’t get the message.

“I wonder how it would look on me,” he said, taking a step towards you. You hissed.

“Sorry, not gonna let you borrow it,” you tried to say in a normal tone, but it came out quite high pitched. James dared to grin.

“What if I just…” he said, coming closer as you took a step back, glowering at him in a warning. Not that he took it. He snatched the cap from your head as the long white hair fell. They reached your feet.

“James, give it back,” you warned and he put it on his head.

“Nope,” he said, his eyes full of mischief. You hesitated at his expression, he looked as candid as a child. Maybe you never noticed it, his hair fell round in pretty curls, framing his face. James winked, making you break out of your reverie.

“I think,” he said thoughtfully. “I think I’m going to keep this cap with me, I quite like it. If you want it back, you’re gonna have to take it from me.”

James took a step back as your eyes dilated. He turned around and started sprinting in that direction.

“James!” you shouted, chasing him.

People around you bolted aside, gasping at the scene. A ghostly white-haired student chasing after James as he chortled. It had been going for quite some time and everyone wondered who would win. Few in the favour of James, who had been pranking ever since he set foot in Hogwarts; a few for you since you were a Slytherin and Slytherins never lose. Others just shook their heads, wishing they would get it over with already the cat and mouse game was becoming rather tiring. No one however had the courage to raise their opinions out loud, lest they got involved in the prank war.

-♡♡♡-

“James," you said calmly, though the atmosphere made you anything but. Thick hot fumes rose from all around you making beads of sweat form on your forehead. "James, this doesn’t go in. We have to stir it first.”

“Why don’t you do it then? Little miss know-it-all” he snided. You looked at him fiercely. Slughorn had paired the two of you together for the next project and it couldn’t be more of a disaster. Only if he could just listen.

“I would if you let me,” you pointed out, finally taking over the shared pot. James watched you take a few breaths before starting to work on the potion. Muttering for ingredients from him now and then, you stirred the concoction. Soon, it started to show the exact signs given in their books.

James couldn't help but stare at you as you worked, humming to yourself all the while. You seemed cute like that, bending over the book, occasionally muttering to yourself. His face heated up when you caught his gaze. Luckily he could blame it on the heat.

“Could you cut some beetroots for me?” you asked, ignoring the way he flushed. James nodded, chopping them to the required amount. The two of you finished up fairly swiftly after that.

"So," you started after Slughorn left. He had commented on your work and applauded you both. Happiness was evident from the smiles on your faces. "Library at 4?"

James grinned, giving you a thumbs up. He packed up his stuff before turning to leave. You couldn't help but stare at his retreating figure, thinking, maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Shrugging, you shook away the thought and went your own way. There were things you had to get done that day.

-♡♡♡-

As time passed, the thought started becoming more predominant. He wasn't so bad, your mind reminded you time and time again. The more you started to know James, the more you believed in it. Constant teasing and bickering wasn’t something that became unheard of between the two of you. But it was more lighthearted now… almost as if you were friends crackling over a shared joke. James had somehow caught your eye again, in a completely different way.

It seemed you were noticing new things about him, like how he didn’t look at you with hatred. Come to think of it, was it even ever ‘hate’? Yet there was something soft about the way he gazed at you now, gentle even— you couldn’t put your finger on it. You had come to enjoy his goofy personality, the smile he gave when his eyes were light with mischief. Knowing where these musings led, you had tried your best to beat them down. What was it that you did not try? Remembering every single detail that made you despise him once, all those times your blood boiled at the prank he pulled but nothing— nothing ever worked and your heart still fluttered every time he complimented you.

Was it that bad an idea though? Liking James?

You shivered, pulling your sweater closer to you. Walking had failed to heat your body the way it always did and you reckoned that your deliberation also had something to do with that. It wasn’t about you liking him, your mind prompted, it was about whether he could feel the same way. And if you knew something, you knew that you couldn’t take the answer to be no. The skip in your step halted, and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips.

Path to the library couldn’t have been more daunting. That was until you saw James and Lily around the corner. Talking, laughing, and standing too close to be called friends. Evans, the one girl James was head over heels for, the one girl you never paid attention to much.

It was like the final shoe dropping. James and you didn’t like each other. People knew that you did as well. It was time you believed it too. Your stomach twisted up at the sight, your mood souring. You turned, walking away.

“Oi!” James called out to you, apologizing to the students he bumped into. You brisked forward, hoping to make it to your dorm. It didn’t work, James ran to catch up with you. Damn his long legs.

“Stop fucking running,” he huffed on reaching you. “Where are you going? We have a study session. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

You gritted your teeth.

“I was heading to the library but you and Evans seemed quite busy, so I thought against it,” you said, albeit aggressively. Jealousy was never a good color.

“We were just talking for a moment,” James explained. “I want us to complete the project first though.”

He looked at you, confused. It was hard controlling your anger right then. You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped your lips.

“Of course,” you said in a temper. “The faster we finish up the project, the faster you can get rid of me, right? Because you don’t like me.”

James’ smile dropped. Sadness gave way to rage. Of course, you still thought that even after all the time he spent with you.

“Yeah. I don’t like you,” he hissed, gritting his teeth. “So let’s complete the project, shall we? To get rid of each other?”

You looked away. It was the last thing you wanted to hear. You yearned for him to tell you otherwise, to apologize for his words, and to reassure you that it wasn’t so. That you two were something. Friends, companions, anything but this. Yet the bigger part of you told you that he was right. And you were nothing to him.

“Yeah, sure.”

-♡♡♡-

The following study session was tense. You two never worked quietly. Jokes, laughs, and incessant chatter filled the air when you were together. James had regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He watched your expression fall and a wall build up around you. Your eyes hadn’t met his since. It ate him up. Somehow he didn’t know how to break the bubble he created.

He hated seeing you close off to him.

You heaved a sigh checking the last lines you’d written and then looked at the clock. It had been two hours.

“I think we should stop. There are just two pages left, we can do them tomorrow and you’ll be free,” you said, packing up your things. James opened and closed his mouth as you picked up your bag.

“Hey, wait!” he said as you turned towards him.

“I didn’t mean to, “ James started, but you cut him off.

“James, it’s alright,” you said, taking a deep breath blinking away the tears that emerged. “I understand. You don’t like me, I don’t like you and we’re stuck together for some time. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

James sucked in a breath. That wasn’t right. At all.

“But—“

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” a voice came and you shifted to see Elodie. You looked over at James, whose eyes pleaded you to stop. But you couldn’t.

You left the library, walking towards your friend leaving behind the boy who stood transfixed at his spot. Why did he feel like he was losing everything? He grudgingly moved his feet towards the common room, your thoughts plaguing his mind. James heard a shout behind him, twisting to see Lily jog up to him.

“James, I was wondering,” she began biting her lip. “Maybe we could sneak out for some butterbeers today? It’s freezing and the snow looks heavenly.”

James found himself shaking his head. His mood was far too spoiled for anything.

“Not today, Lily,” he answered. “I’m tired.”

“Oh, I meant it as a date, you know?” Lily added hopefully. James considered her for a moment. It was everything he had wished for years. Yet he couldn’t feel the happiness that should have come with it. He wanted, no— he needed someone else, someone who made him far giddier. He needed you.

It was like a bolt striking him. He had never been so sure of anything else. Unable to keep the grin off his face, he spoke his next words in a rush.

“Lily, I’m sorry but I can’t,” he shouted, sprinting towards the dungeons. Running through the rather empty corridors he saw the snow which coated the grounds. His breath came out in puffs as he urged himself to move faster. He stopped when something caught his eye. You. Standing out in the snow, looking at the sky with a smile.

Moving towards you, he conjured up a snowball and threw it on your back. Your eyes widened in shock as you jumped, looking towards him.

“What now James?” you snapped.

He conjured up yet another ball and threw it at you. Your eyes grew larger and you glared at him.

“I wanted to say something,” he said as you conjured up a ball and threw it at him in response. He hissed at the icy sensation.

“Then say it.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you,” he said, throwing a snowball at you as your teeth clattered at the sensation. You threw a snowball in return, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Then stop acting as you do.”

He threw yet another ball at you.

“You make me act like that,” he stated. You threw a huge one in response.

“I make you act like an idiot?”

“Yes, you drive me crazy,” he said, throwing some snow at you as you grunted.

“Then why don’t you leave me alone?” you huffed as he threw yet another ball at you, making you cough and splutter.

“Because I can’t.”

“Why?” you asked, throwing a ball at him.

“Because I can’t leave the best thing that happened to me,” he said, making you stop. You stalked towards him and poked his chest with every word you spoke.

“I'm the best thing that happened to you? What is this? Some kind of sick prank? You don’t even like me,” you sobbed, frustrated and angry. That was how he made you feel. Everything all at once. James didn’t know how to answer you so he just took your hand away and cupped your cheek with his other one, leaning in to kiss you. Your eyes fell shut as feeling his lips against yours. You grabbed his shirt pulling him closer feeling his arms tighten around your hips, sucking his bottom lip. When you pulled away you both caught your breath.

“I promise those are the truest words I’ve ever said,” he whispered, his hair messier than usual. He cradled your face, pressing his lips against your forehead. You crossed your arms.

“I still don’t like you,” you said in faux anger. James let out a teary chuckle.

“I don’t like you either,” he replied, smiling.

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

#james #james potter #james x reader #james potter x reader #james x y/n #james potter x y/n #the marauders #marauders #james x you #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter angst #lily evans #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #from anu's quill

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wordsnstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Guide to Drafting

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

–

Planning v. Discovery

The first thing you must decide when you embark on the journey of drafting a story is how you’re going to get it done. Typically, there are two groups you can fit into, though most writers are somewhere in between. There are writers who plan meticulously before they begin writing to create a very clean first draft, or there are discovery writers (otherwise known as “pantsers”) who find more success in choosing a premise and then using a zero draft to explore the idea before gluing down any details. You are most likely someone who falls between those two methods. Some initial planning to feel familiar with your idea before you do some of the planning through the writing itself. Having some semblance of a method will help you narrow down your own process, which is immensely important if you want to get any substantial project near completion.

Consistency

Drafting is a difficult process because it’s either the revisitation of ideas you’ve already had, or the generations of ideas in quick succession. If you want to have a draft in a reasonable amount of time, you must develop a consistency in your writing. I won’t say that it must be a strict routine because time management can be a luxury, but you must make the consistent effort to write, and keep it in the forefront of your mind. Even if you don’t write every day, it should be something you try to make time for every day.

Know What You’re Trying to Accomplish

To get a draft done, you need to set expectations for yourself and they must be realistic. That doesn’t mean they have to be easy, or an amount of work you’ve been able to accomplish in the past. Considering how much time you dedicate to writing and your skillset, it should be a goal within reality. In addition, you must accept that you cannot create a masterpiece in one draft. For each version of your story that you write, you must have a focused goal, such as maintaining consistent characterization, making the plot concise and engaging, or making the prose more fluid and efficient. If you have a specific and attainable goal that you can accomplish in a reasonable amount of time with a fair amount of precision, each draft will be better than the last.

Designate Work to Phases

As mentioned in the last section, it maximizes your time and effort to have specific and attainable goals for each draft. This doesn’t mean that you rewrite the draft each time (though that is very common amongst writers), but that you designate tasks to draft versions. I find it very helpful in clearing my mind and soothing my perfectionist anxiety to make a “schedule”, outlining what I’ll accomplish in each version following the zero draft. For example, my draft schedules usually end up something like this:

Zero Draft: Main plot line, basic characterization, key world building

First Draft: Finalize Timeline, research for world building, structure

Second Draft: (Rewrite) Plot Development Fine Tuning

Subplot development

Foreshadowing

Build up to climaxes

Tone & Pace

Third Draft: (Intermittent Rewrites) Character Development Fine Tuning

Backstory

Subtextual Development

Making sure motivations are clear

Relationships between characters

Reinforcing character arcs

Checking dialogue

Fourth Draft: (Give to Beta Readers) World Building & Prose

Descriptions & Flow

Finalize settings

Checking grammar & punctuation

Reader Immersion

Fifth Draft: Incorporate Beta Reader Feedback

Write for Yourself First

In what some call the “zero-draft”, there are no rules. This draft is purely for your eyes. It’s you telling yourself the story for the first time. So, you don’t have to write in chronological order, or know the right word you’re looking for, or take a break every time you run into a problem. The purpose of the zero draft is to get a rough idea of as much of the story as you can and avoid getting snagged on minor details. This part is important. A lot of writers like to outline meticulously before they begin drafting and if that works for you, that’s great, but the majority of writers who attempt that get stuck in the planning phase, or burnt out on their story before a word of it exists. The easiest way to avoid those two situations is to do a zero draft, which can be as long or short as you want if it provides a skeleton for you to add meat to later.

Common Struggles

~ How do you estimate the number of words/chapters?... That depends on the genre, mostly. However, that’s usually something you decide in the second draft and beyond, and it can vary because of factors you haven’t got locked down until the plot and character arcs are firm or final. This is also something you’ll probably do a lot of tinkering with, and receive feedback on, especially from beta-readers, who can advise you on where natural breaks could occur from their perspective.

~ Why, after planning everything out, do I always struggle to write the draft?... 99% of the time, it’s because you’ve either burned yourself out, or accumulated too much pressure. When you put that much effort and time into a story, you can either slip into a headspace where you feel little excitement about it because you’ve already done all of the problem solving and had all of the revelations. It’s usually beneficial at this stage to take a step back (even if you’re not burnt out) and give your story some space, so that once you come back to it, you’re enthusiastic enough to fully realize your vision. If instead you’re struggling to write because you feel a lot of pressure to do justice for a story you’ve put so much love into already, take a step back, remember that the first draft is just for you, and work on letting go of the idea that the zero draft is meant to serve any purpose beside simply existing.

~ How do I come up with the necessary scenes to move the story forward between major plot points?... Most writing problems can be solved by asking yourself the right questions. When you’re trying to figure out what your reader needs to see next in order to effectively set up the next major event, ask yourself “What would happen between event A and event B that would add context or make event B more impactful?”. Treat it like a real situation and try to map out all of the tiny, notable moments that would take place between the major plot points, and then assess those moments on the basis of how impactful they would be to the coming scenes, and whether they can add context, set the tone, or aide in the rising action.

~ How do I balance sticking to the draft and following my own creative instinct in the moment?... This is a judgement call. Sometimes you’ll realize that maybe you should have just stuck to the outline, but remember that you can always go back, rewrite, test things out, etc. Always save every version of every scene, just in case, and go wild. Don’t be afraid to take detours just to explore. The writing process is anything but linear.

~ How do I maintain momentum in my writing progress when I constantly have distractions or other responsibilities that take priority?... Work at it. There’s no magic trick or piece of advice I could say that gets rid of your personal responsibilities. Write when you can, don’t make excuses on top of the reasons you have no control over, and remember that you create your own deadlines and expectations. Be kind to yourself, do what you can, and don’t spend potential writing time punishing yourself because there isn’t as much as you’d like.

~ How should I designate space (words/pages) to specific scenes/description/conversations, etc?... Trust your instinct and remember you can always cut/add later. In the earlier drafts, I’d advise you try to create as much material as possible to work with, and in the later drafts, be ruthless when determining what is necessary and adds value, and what doesn’t.

~ How do I finish a draft if I regularly lose motivation or interest in my projects?... Accept the fact that motivation is fickle, and that no writer in history has ever maintained “inspiration” for any project from the beginning to the end. There are going to be days where you’re like “ugh this is not what I want to do right now”, probably more than there are days where you’re stoked to work on your project, but that’s reality. If your goal is to finish a draft, you must recognize that writing is work, and nobody wants to work all the time. Try to supplement the lack of motivation by setting a positive and enjoyable routine so that, even when you’re not particularly motivated, you still know that your writing time will be peaceful and comfortable.

–

Masterlist | WIP Blog

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#writing #writeblr #writing advice #writing tips #writing resources #resources for writers #writing reference #writing help #writespo #writing inspiration #writing motivation #inspiration #motivation #drafting

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