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definitelynotshouting · 9 months

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MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE OF SECRET LIFE!!!!!

so i sped-wrote this as soon as i learned who the winner was this morning, tried to post it twice, tumblr mobile deleted it BOTH TIMES... but i will not be silenced ive finally gone to desktop /silly

this will go up on my rough draft pseud soon, but until then please enjoy the results of me being EXTREMELY unwell about the secret life finale. WOOOOOO WE ARE POPPING THE BIGGEST OF BOTTLES TODAY FR!!!!!!!!!!!

Grian barricades himself at the top of the highest tower of Tango's citadel the moment he wakes up. It's a calculated move, admittedly. There are a precious few places one might still find him if he truly wants to hide, but the Deep Frost Citadel isn't one of them— and with the second Decked Out coming to a ceremonious close, foot traffic here is perilously low. Dawn is a swift-approaching knife on the horizon, and Grian soars above it all, face numb with chill wind, wings brazen and feathers strewn across an empty sky.

He doesn't want to be near when Scar wakes. And he doesn't want to be found just yet, either. Oh, Scar will track him down. Of that, he has no doubt— but for now, Grian takes solace in the snow crunching underfoot as he locks himself inside this barren tower.

It's dark here, which suits Grian just fine. He doesn't bother lighting a lantern; instead, he huddles right on the floor, letting the ice seep through him. From here, he can just make out the sky as it lightens, bringing with it the dawn of a new victor. Nausea boils in his throat. With that victory comes a price, and Scar— And Grian— Well. Grian hasn't treated him very well throughout the games, now, has he?

He curls in on himself even further, feathers brushing along the length of his chilled arms. Each hair stands at attention, in some vain effort to pull warmth from the surrounding freeze— when he scrubs a hand along his arm, his fingers shake, and the gooseflesh remains stark and raised against his skin.

There was a sand-drenched point when the concept of warmth was all he could register— scorching wind scraping the cut on his cheek, the scarlet splatter of blood across split knuckles. And like the steady drain of life from a corpse, that warmth has drawn away, poison from a putrid wound— it leaves him compacting this cold, this loneliness, to mold it into four high walls around his heart; a fitting tribute to every grain of trust he's rightfully lost. Grian huffs the barest traces of a bitter laugh as his breath mists in the air. A better man would meet Scar at his base, extend his support, no matter how icily it might be met.

But Grian is selfish, and a coward, and will always be a coward— and so instead he sits, marrow freezing, with only the thin garrotte of paltry sunlight wrapping itself around his tender throat to keep him company.

And there he stays, motionless, for long enough that the chill makes a home in him— the glistening, pale yolk of the sun warns him of the passing time, a watery heat that counts down the seconds to minutes to hours until Scar finds him. Grian curls his wings around himself, a pitiful embrace, and waits.

Two hours later, the whistle of rocket-propelled elytra warn him of incoming company. Grian doesn't bother fleeing; he knows Scar, and Scar knows him, and with this last, missing puzzle piece finally slotting into place between them, he's under no illusions that staying hidden for long is feasible. Grian's eyes skitter to a crack on the far wall as clumsy footsteps scatter the snow outside, scrabbling for balance before the muted click of a cane joins them. Footsteps; another, louder click— the door's latch gives way, and a brief, blinding wave of light crashes over Grian's face, obscuring everything but the outline of a painfully familiar silhouette.

Grian has to look away. The door shuts, and for a small moment, neither of them so much as breathe.

Then Scar's sighs— one great, resigned gust. "Grian...."

He says nothing else. He doesn't have to. Grian draws his legs up to his chest in response anyway, heart a frozen pump bleeding ice into his very veins. What can he say? An apology? They're past apologies, now— if Scar wanted to disavow him forever, take the crumpled remains of their friendship and throw it at his feet, he'd be right to do so.

But Scar doesn't shout; neither does he leave. Instead, his cane taps forward, boots sliding into Grian's line of vision— and, with a grunt of effort, Scar eases himself down, until he's sitting at a safe diagonal from Grian's hunched form.

Neither of them say anything for a while.

Eventually, Grian licks his lips. They're chapped from cold, thin and ready to split. "Hi, Scar," he says softly. It comes out weak, thready— a barely-there declaration. Whatever Scar wants here... he can take it. It's the very least Grian can do at this point.

From the corner of his eye, he watches Scar settle, shifting his weight before he lands on something approximating comfort. He takes his time with it, blind— or uncaring— to the erratic snarl of Grian's pulse. His voice is just as quiet when he responds. "So... that's it, then, huh."

Grian glances over properly before he can stop himself, stomach churning; Scar's gaze has slipped to the cutout acting as a window, middle-distant and lost. Locked on something only he can see. Then Scar shakes himself, an abrupt jerk of his head and shoulders, and that glassy look turns to pin Grian directly to the wall behind him instead. "Just like that?"

Grian's fingers tighten around his knees. "Just like that," he agrees, hollow.

Scar mulls that over for a moment. His sigh is a wisp of white in front of them, crystallizing in the glacial atmosphere. "Jeez," he says finally, scrubbing one hand through the tangled bird's nest of his hair. He must have flown across half the server as soon as he... remembered, Grian realizes with a visceral pang. "I didn't... that's a lot of memories to just, um, gain back on a dime, huh?"

Grian darts a sidelong glance at him. Shifts his wings until their primaries lower, sweeping the ground around his feet like a feathered cat's cradle. "I wouldn't know," he says, a quirk of black humor dancing around the edges of his mouth. He swallows. "Since. Well...."

He trails off. Imagines, briefly, that he is a black hole— a quasar. A neutron star. Something so tight and compact it can string him out, erase him; a ball of grief and misery dense enough that it contains its own event horizon.

Scar hums a little shakily into the blooming silence. "Yeah. I guess that would complicate things, wouldn't it." A pause. "Does it always feel—?"

Grian shrugs. "Don’t know that either, Scar."

"Oh." Scar's still looking at him, the searchlight of his gaze burning pockmarks into Grian's skin. "Cool, okay... so...." He hesitates, teeth worrying his lower lip, before finally forging on: "So what now?"

Grian sucks in his own shuddery breath. "Whatever you want, Scar," he says, blank and dull. Every inch of him frozen stiff, awaiting the tipped scales of Scar’s judgement. "There's no going back, after this." The quicksilver flash of a grimace tugs his lips back to reveal sharp, white teeth. "Welcome to the club, I guess."

"It sure is a warm welcome," Scar says weakly. "Got— uh, got your complimentary balloons, and— and um, a whole gift basket of... of...."

He trails off too, the fragile ley lines of his humor peeling off, cracking at the seams. Impossibly, Grian curls around himself tighter.

An apology is nothing but wasted air now, but it dredges from his throat anyway. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Scar. I—" He breaks off, jaw tight. "I'm... I'm not sure what else to say, honestly. I never thought...."

I never thought you'd win. It's a cruel phrase that haunts the air between them, hanging like a smoky pall across their shoulders.

Scar says nothing against it; he only watches.

An uneasy prickle crawls up Grian's spine. "You don't—" He stops himself before he can finish that thought. "Are you— Scar, why are you here?"

"'Cause Pearl's not talking to me yet," Scar says quietly, prompt. "And— and because I remembered. Us."

Grian's throat closes around the word. "Us," he echoes, a rough rasp that ricochets against the deepslate walls surrounding them. The word tears through his ears, distorting with each pass. "Look, alright— I-I don't know if you got the memo, exactly, but— I'm not—"

He breaks off again, lungs jarring, hitching in his chest. Hot prickles sear behind his eyes, but nothing drops— he’s too tired for crying. "I've hurt you a lot, Scar," Grian says at last, lips numb around the words. "I'm not sure if there's much of an 'us' left, at this point."

"I know," Scar says. His eyes reflect the snow-glitter outside.

"And— I wouldn't blame you, if you left right now."

"I know," Scar says again, softer.

"I—” Grian stares at him, helpless. "Okay, then why are you here, Scar?" He gestures between them, an aimless motion that somehow encompasses the breadth of everything that's rotted at their foundations. "If you know all that, then what—?"

Scar regards him with enviable poise. His throat bobs as he speaks. "Maybe, I just— now that I remember— maybe I just want your company, Grian. Is that really so bad?"

Grian stares at him, at a loss. "I don't understand," he says finally, and it comes out plaintive even to his own ears. "I thought you'd be— angry. After everything I've done, after all that's happened.... What's your play here, Scar? If you want to yell at me, be my guest. I think by now I've more than earned it."

But Scar doesn't take the bait. Instead, he shuffles closer— just by an inch. A careful, cautious inch. "Y'know," he says, apropos of nothing, "and correct me if I'm wrong, here— but I seem to remember something about you wanting an alliance before all of... that crazy stuff happened. Is that right?"

Something in Grian's chest spasms. Whatever expression it spreads across his face must spur Scar on, because he scoots closer again, just enough to bring their calves together. The brief shock of warmth explodes through Grian's skin, worming its way underneath the subcutaneous tissue to flood his veins and gnaw at the lingering ice.

After a moment, Scar's lips tilt up— a subtle, fragile smile. "Is it too late to cash in on that?" he asks.

Grian's mind goes blank, white and buzzing, the thin hiss of a creeper drifting through it like smoke. Unfiltered shock threads through his voice. "You want t— what?"

Scar's smile tempers further around its edges, stretching into something softer, knowing. Rounded out. With solemn motions, he reaches into the pocket of his utterly ridiculous safety vest, and delicately pulls something out.

It's a sunflower.

In the frigid gloom of Tango's citadel, Grian gapes, the brilliant yellow petals incongruous with this grim, grit, darkened room. When he looks up, Scar's eyes are overbright, painfully earnest— brimming with a desperate urgency that tucks itself away in the depths of his pupils.

"Can we try again?" Scar says, soft as the new-fallen snow beyond this isolated cell of misery. "Start over? I— I kind of hurt you too, you know. And— for the record, being without you sucks. I don't—" He falters. "I know it's gonna be all weird, y’know, between us… but I don't want to do that anymore. I just... want you here, Grian. That's all. I just want you to stick around."

Grian sucks in a sharp, daggered breath. "You're joking," he breathes, but his heart leaps, tumbling from his throat and onto the floor for Scar to stomp at his leisure. "You're actually— this isn't funny."

"Hey, do you see me laughing?” Scar presses forward once more, a calculated attack, but still slow enough for Grian to track each move, to stop him if he cared enough to. Gently, Scar unwinds one of Grian's hands from his knees, cupping it between his own and brushing the lightest of kisses against his knuckles before turning over Grian’s palm and pressing the flower into it. Grian's fingers curl around it of their own accord, silky petals burning against his fingers.

"So." Scar smiles, tremulous, eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. "Can we still be friends?"

And Grian has always been a raw creature, a tangled wreck of his own selfish greed— he’s craved the honeyed umber of Scar's love since he first cradled it, tentatively, in his palms all that time ago. In the depths of his heart, there will always be that sandstone cliff, the crack of his bones against hard-packed sand, and wings too clipped to fly freely. There will always be that calloused fist around his heart, and beyond his own scrabbling fear, there will always, always be that fervent need to bring Scar close even as he pushes him away.

And where before, Scar had been playing blind, a game with no true rules… now, his eyes trap Grian against the wall, clear as glass— diamond sharp and just as steady. From a winning game, there is no turning back. There’s nothing left to lose here, except this porcelain trust, this shred of hope Scar offers him once more in the form of a flower.

Even after everything, all the memories flooding back— Scar is still here, holding Grian’s heart, and offering up his own in return.

Grian slowly presses it to his chest with trembling, vulnerable motions. "You're sure you want this."

"I'm sure I want you," Scar says, unwavering.

Grian breathes in. Breathes out. Inhale and exhale, both a heavy drag in his lungs. Already, the sun is beginning to strengthen, casting thick rays through the window and splaying them across Grian’s lap. The advent of gilded noon weaves around them, perfuming the air with light and heat.

"Okay," Grian says at last, and it drops from his lips with the weight of a confession; a relinquishment; a solemn vow. "Okay."

This time, when Scar reaches for his hand again, Grian meets him halfway, and the tangle of their fingers nets the sunflower in a promise neatly between them.

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fluffykitteninabox · 2 years

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Season 6 intro analysis (that somehow turned into a Hawks rant, sorry about that):

So the new intro looks amazing.

Everyone is shaded like All Might and i wonder if that's supposed to mean something..

also this is like poorly written and stuff because I'm not good at this kind thing. I call it analysis but it's more me trying to stitch my thoughts together and probably failing. If someone wants to add things to make it more coherent or complete destroy my stupid theories they can...

Also also tumblr is doing that thing again where it posts my unfinished drafts but at least this time it's almost done so I'll just edit it like this instead of deleting it

ALSO ALSO ALSO SPOILERS FOR ANIME ONLY WATCHERS I GUESS (because only one episode is out at the moment and I talk about stuff that'll be in future episodes)

Am I doing this right? Should I tag season 6 spoilers if the episode is not out yet? Or is it still considered manga spoiler?

The way All Might is drawn is supposed to represent the old style comic books, and the contrast between him and the other characters shows how he's kind of an unreachable ideal.

This intro looks more like those old style comic books with the style of animation they chose. There's even shots that are divided like manga panels and there's words used as sound effects like "thud" and "rrmmmbll" for the shaking ground and "boom" for Bakugou's explosions

I mean look at the very first shot and tell me this doesn't look like an old comic book to you:

Look at this dramatic shading:

I wanted to say that the use of this type of shading maybe shows how our heroes are getting closer to that ideal that All Might represents (specifically I'm talking about the main trio).

But they show a lot of other characters with the same shading, including Hawks and Endeavor, who are nothing like All Might.

I read somewhere (i don't remember who wrote it but i think it was someone here on tumblr) that in my hero academia there's this idea of the passing of the torch from the older generation to the newer one. And that All Might and AFO both represent how heroes and villains were in old comic books. There's more of a black and white morality. Good vs pure evil. And that Deku and Tomura represent the new generation where the line of good and evil is more blurred.

I'm not explaining it well but i hope you get the point.

So maybe the All Might type shading is supposed to represent them getting closer to him, but in a bad way??

The heroes are the ones initiating the violence in this arc. And I'm not saying this is a bad thing, they need to stop the potato bastard after all. But they abuse their power and try to solve a problem that is in the grey zone with black and white morality. I'm talking about Hawks here (yes others abuse their power too but this is like the big thing that happens in this arc so I'm using it as an example).

Heroes aren't supposed to kill, and yet Hawks murders Twice because he is the hero and Twice is the villain. He justifies it by saying it's for the greater good and that Twice was too dangerous to be left alive, but the audience knows that that's bullshit. Or at least the ones with a brain know!

Twice is not "pure evil", he's anything but that. If he hadn't died he would probably be the easiest LOV member to save because he doesn't want to be a villain. Twice didn't have a personal motivation for revenge. All he wanted was companionship and for the world to not treat him like shit. You would just need to show him proof that you wanted to help him get rehabilitated and the most important part, extend the offer for help to his friends.

It would have been literally so easy!

But Hawks chooses not to do that and instead stabs an unarmed person in the back while he was trying to run away.

So yeah my conclusion is that the shading represents the characters acting with that black and white morality mindset that i mentioned above. They're taking steps backwards into the past in a way, by allowing the labels of hero and villain to cloud their judgment.

But at some point in the intro the dramatic shading stops and the rest uses the normal animation we usually see in the show. A bit like the gif i used above that transitions from the vintage style logo to the new one.

That's also when we start seeing group shots instead of characters standing alone. Kind of how after All Might's retirement heroes started working in teams. No one person can solve the problem but if they work together they can.

Maybe that's them realising that the way they were handling things was not working so it's time to try something new.

I want to emphasise this shot of the kids taken straight from the manga:

Again because old generation passing the torch to the new generation and all that. Our kids have spent the past 5 seasons learning and growing and now they'll become greater heroes than the ones that came before them. They represent the future.

Also I'm doing this completely out of order since tumblr decided to be a little shit today. I want to go back to this shot i used in the beginning but this is a few seconds after:

Something something about them coming out of the shadows, and looking all determined like that. Shonen protagonist mid battle energy boost because they thought about their friends (maybe). It still looks stylized because of the colours but the shading is less dramatic now.

There's one last thing I want to mention. There's this one shot that stands out apart from all the rest:

Dabi looks... blurry for some reason. His colors bleed outside the lines. It's kind of like when you use too much water with watercolors and it starts spreading everywhere without control.

Literally everything else in this intro looks super crisp and HD except him. But it's not in a bad way like usual. Bones has a habit of fucking up Dabi's design, but this looks more like a stylistic choice.

I don't know exactly what this is supposed to symbolise. Maybe the fact that he feels separate from everyone else because his real self is dead to the world. Or maybe it's that thing i read somewhere (again I don't remember who wrote this sorry) Dabi is a character that is stuck in the past,so maybe that has something to do with it. I don't know... someone with better skills at analysing stuff like this can maybe figure it out.

#mha #mha season 6 #all might #izuku mydoria #bakugou katsuki #shouto todoroki #toya todoroki #mha hawks #mha twice

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jjungkooksthighs · 4 years

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Claws of Carnality | jjk (7)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf!au, soulmate!au, fantasy!au

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary: When you and your alpha rivetingly reunite for the Offering Ceremony, you are thoroughly twitterpated in his display of intent to you that colors your entire being with affection for him, but you will soon find that he isn’t the only one that has his sights set on you...

Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub! reader, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of blood, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scenting, mating rituals and hunting

A/N: What a ride this chapter has been. From the many drafts I had of the original version that went through various reworks before I initially posted and then onto the deletion of that from Tumblr only for an alternate version to be made in my efforts to better guide understanding of the story, this chapter has started from one destination and landed somewhere across the other side of the world.

I hope that this version is easier to digest after the heaviness of the original and much work has been done to ensure that. All feedback that was given to me on the previous rendition of this chapter was greatly appreciated even if some of it hurt, so those who reached out, I thank you. I hope that you all will continue to let me know what your thoughts are as I thrive on comments and feedback that show to me what you guys really think about my work. Please make me a happy author and share your feedback with me on this revised version that I made just for you guys!

Also, you will notice the gif I used this time is different. That is because that look is what Jungkook has somewhere in this chapter (because lbr here I am a slut for Black Swan Jungkook). There might additionally be an insert that looks somewhat familiar to something we have all screamed over, so that will be interesting to see if anyone catches what it is.

For my readers that enjoy auditory stimulus while they read, I wrote this chapter entirely to Jungkook’s “My Time” and I implore you to listen to that while you read because it really sets the mood and perspective I had in the sentiments that I wanted to convey for this part (not to mention I fucking love that song like a child adores their favorite toy). You may find while listening that a certain part resonates especially deep with it. Bonus points to anyone that catches the special allusion!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9

Suffering in silence amid the agonizing absence of your alpha, every second spent without him is dragged on by cruel hands of time that languidly pass with lethargy in the wake of the sun’s slumber.

Despite the powerful paroxysms that wrack every fiber of your being, your heart paddles agog with anticipation while you wait anxiously for your alpha as your irises sweep like a whirlwind through the woodland in the distance in their frantic frenzy to find under their storm the bringer of the tempest of emotions that rain over you.

The knoll erected just before the greenwood is certainly an insolent impediment that blocks and bars your sights from penetrating pervasively into the forest’s opening as you whimper in the damned denial of your mate.

You hardly notice the profoundly proliferating mound of quarry in front of you that the same beta tugs and tows from the forest in an accumulating aggregation that far surpasses the small, sad excuses for the other piles of game that other betas pull from the forest in their lugging of the conquered prey of each alpha that they serve.

The name of this particular one drifts away from your comprehension in the turbulent gusts that your alpha spews over you even in your separation that cloud your mind of all but him.

By now, the sun has lain itself to sleep below the horizon and, in its place, the moon has awoken augustly from her own chamber to seat herself atop her throne at the sky’s crest. This night, she is tainted red with the crimson of the lifeblood within all creatures under her care in a rare occurrence that is otherwise known as the Blood Moon.

Occurring only twice a year among the winter and summer solstices, the striking shade is symbolic of the wild impulses that drive all living beings and even the stars pulse like veins through the sky’s soma in their own frenzied palpitations.

The moon’s subjects of omegas, alphas and betas all throng tightly together in clusters behind the garden of newly presented omegas that have blossomed with maturity, the cheerful chattering of all the wolves of your pack blooming around you in the warmth of excitement that spouts from them like water. You are rooted like a flower to the ground amidst the field of other omegas that have recently presented, your limbs planted there by the elder who had brought you from the woods.

It had been an onerous omission on your part to abstain from hissing at her when her bony, knuckled hands had grasped your arms in the utter dissatisfaction that had erupted like a volcano within you in the urge to tear her off of you in the lack of heat that her touch- which had been so definitively and determinately not your alpha’s- had been incapable of warming you with.

It had been so unlike what your alpha easily instilled upon you in his calefaction that rolled off of him in waves and, in wanting only your alpha’s hands on you, you’d had to bite down on your tongue to keep from releasing the noise of dismayed dissatisfaction and risk being begrudgingly berated for an unruly display.

Once she’d ambled away, it was your secret that you’d pulled the furs your alpha had given you closer around you to bask in his scintillating scent, the pelt closing comfortingly around you to offer you some much needed incalescence while some, but not all, of the tension pressing down on your shoulders had lifts away.

Niva, who stood behind you, had giggled as she asked, “Are you that gone for him, darling?”

Your cheeks had reddened in embarrassment before you’d looked back at her to quietly mumble, “I am. Irrevocably and unequivocally.”

You watch with bated breath as alphas begin to ascend from over the hilltop that stands to attention just before the woodland as you all but tremble in anticipation to find your own among them.

They are all cleaned of the blood, sweat and tears from the prey they slayed and most are dressed in exorbitantly expensive threads that have likely never before been worn before today.

They are donned under furs from which the alphas acquired in hunts years past in the aged, tanned colors of them all that are draped over each wolf’s shoulders as they come to stand in front of their designated deposit of game they have proudly procured in effort to offer it to their desired partner amidst the line of omegas that have been arranged opposite of them.

It is tradition that the sins of death be wiped away from them before an omega's virtues of life can fully cleanse the alpha that would receive them.

Incurring impatience is what has you whine out for your alpha that still evasively eludes your visage as you searchingly seek him while your wolf cries for the only one that could possibly quiet it as a familiar figure separates from the amalgamation of agglomerated elders that have accumulated along the west and east sides of the stage before she takes her place on the beamed boards that circularly coalesce into the timbered stage.

Amidst the jovial jabber that percolates through the air, the lead elder, who is also your grandmother, raises her hands over her head so that the moonlight drips down onto her upturned palms as she shouts, “Children! Tonight, we commemorate the adulthood that our blessed mother of the moon has acknowledged in these youth before you,” the lead elder lowers both arms to gesture to you as fondness showers over her before she softens, “And among them is my beloved grandchild, Y/N, who hails from the purest of bloodlines and who has been the sole caretaker of our pups and livestock in her dutiful and devout service to her pack since her very juvenility. Let us commend both her and those she was raised alongside in this momentous moment!”

There is a thunderous applause that bursts roaringly around you as exhilaration energizes you anew whilst every wolf in attendance animatedly hoots and claps with a delighted dynamism that has you smiling happily as the sounds bound through you with the liveliness of a sprite.

It leaps through you ceaselessly and when you breathe in to give it more room to prance around within you, that’s when your lips lift in gratified gaiety in the unmistakable undeniability of the scent of myrrh that skirrs insatiably forth until it has found and enveloped you in its mighty musk as you sigh with satisfaction at the realization as it wantonly wafts around you.

Jungkook, your precious mate, must be close by.

The knowledge has your heart skipping a beat as your wolf bays amidst the kindles of joy that light themselves within you in the rapid recognition of the presence of your other half somewhere in the distance.

In the cesspool of odors of all the other wolves that odiously stink and reek through winds around you, it is a taxing task to attempt to locate the origin of the aroma you have come to adore ardently.

All you can do is readily revel in the piquantly pungent incense that incites your baser being with inclination to rejoin with its mate and to find solace in the euphoric utopia of his waiting arms once more.

Some of the lead elder’s words are lost to you amongst your alpha’s essence that wraps willfully around you in a brume that brushes eagerly against you while the ovation that, somewhere along the way, has gradually quieted while the last of the alphas have found their allocated allotment next to their corresponding heaps of seized, slain prey.

They are organized according to rank with the first place that heads the row of alphas belonging to the wolf boasting the highest station amongst his dynamic as their chief in charge of them all through the title afforded to him through his strength, power and bloodline.

Such were no match for any other alpha that had been unwise and unfortunate enough to face and bear the brunt of his sharp claws in battle that ended in loss to any that opposed him as the rightful pack alpha.

It is Jungkook’s locus at the vertex of the line that is empty and while the sight should distill doubt’s inklings within you, your alpha’s reassuring redolence is there to caress you in the swathing surety that he’s near. In your endeavored expenditure to catch a glimpse of Jungkook, you fail to detect that there is not one desolate domain that is devoid of an alpha in front of you, but four.

Still, you’re hardly at the liberty to discern that within the olfactive haze of your alpha’s pheromones that effervescently enfold you in their pleasing particles.

When your irises chase the lingering trace of him that is everywhere and nowhere at once to no avail yet again, you pout and, in the distance, a pair of golden eyes glint with mirth at the spectacle of you that is so incredibly and charmingly cherubic to their beholder.

A knowing expression momentarily crossing the lead elder’s face, your grandmother steps back before smiling fondly at you before her eyes carry their focus across the line of omegas that have been bestrewn along the grasses to your right before returning to you as she proclaims, “My dear grandchild, I welcome you and your fellow omegeans to the maturity that the wolves within you have flourished so beautifully with. May the most worthy of alphas earn you this night under the approving nod of our maternal moon that shall watch us from above,” she gives a revering salute to the celestial body above as she crosses her fingers over her heart in a spherical motion before bowing and when she stands once more, she trumpets, “With that, let us begin the Offering Ceremony!”

Upon her final words, she hobbles haltingly back down the wooden stairs connected to one side of the stage with some aid from the other elders in the age that has stolen away the strength of her feeble, frail ligaments as another round of applause fiercely flies through the land on the wings of the air that carry it as good-natured gossip joins it.

The stage is emptied but for a moment before an alpha emerges from the arched lumbered and logged mouth opening onto the platform, the tongue of timbered planks spanning outward in a circlet as the wolf takes his starting position for his celebratory dance before a flurry of flutes cast their music from the forelimbs of the wooden body under the deft fingers of the pack’s musicians.

You do not recognize this wolf and it takes only a second for your attention to sway elsewhere as your alpha’s scent draws you back to him when its mists cling in their sedulous sumptuousness to you.

It is tradition that all ceremonies and events initiate with performances meant to embody the heart of the occasion. Through their artistically aesthetic displays, tangible forms are given to the impalpable sentiments that the pack amasses in its harnessing of sensibilities toward such a jovial jamboree in the dances that are done to reflect those avid attitudes of each wolf imbued innately with such enthusiasm.

Following this, alphas are the first to proffer a present to their desired partners in declaring and dedicating the winnings of their hunt to their chosen omega. In exchange for the bounty, the omega then gives something of their own to their alpha as a symbol of intent to be paired exclusively with each other.

If there are offerings that exceed those of a single alpha for one omega, challenges or duels can be instigated and thusly proctored in official matches in their efforts to win an omega.

Such battles end either through submission or when one wolf is left incapacitated in the incapability to rise from the ground through the wounds that always leave their bodies in tatters through the violent nature of the fight for a mate.

The losing combatant forfeits their rights to claim an omega if they are bested by their opponent and the omega is not given a choice to accept the victor even if the alpha that wins them is not the one they had hoped to have, for it is a rule that the superior wolf who dominates another and exhibits that they are the more capable provider to the entire compound is the worthier being in their ability to protect their omega.

Following this, an intended pair of wolves each bestow matching marks that they paint onto each other in the blood of the strongest, most fearsome prey that an alpha robbed of its life in the honor of their omega.

After that, they are free to depart to a den the alpha is to have carefully crafted in preparation of his mate where the two are then meant to consummate their bond that will seal them together forevermore, for the brand of tooth marks that the two leave on each other through the throes of rapturous ecstasy would bind them to one other until the end of their days in the ultimate deed of giving themselves to each other through such an intimate act.

Daedal devotion linked the delicate affairs of courtship that you had always thought was so romantic and you can’t help the thrilling sensation that cascades over you at the prospect of what is to come alongside a particular alpha that has captured your mind and soul in his very palm.

His scent swirls enticingly around you as your irises, once again, flick along the endless expanse of the forest beyond while you squint as if that would help you to better see into the greenhood that grasps him away from you. Try as you might, you still cannot glimpse the apple of your eye from the fanning ferns careening from the underbrush as you whine once more in his hedging of you.

As his tang drapes itself over you, it stirs in its insistence his voice that echoes through your mind to remind you, “I will return for you and when I do, I will make you mine forever.”

Your anxiety is quieted in his quintessence that settles like a blanket over you to warm you in his stead as you continue to scour scrupulously around you for any smidgen of him that might deliver you to the truth of his whereabouts, your focus narrowed now in the thin beam of light that luminates your mind only with the purpose of finding him.

Lost in your fossicking forage for him as you are, the first wolf that had arrived on the stage is replaced by another and after that, two more.

By the time that six have gone, you’re no closer to illuminating your vision with his candescent luster as you peer longingly at the vacant spot that parallels your own where your alpha should be standing as yearning pulls at your heartstrings in his devastating absenteeism as you tug his pelt tighter over you.

When the yakking and chatting of the wolves behind you is blown out like a candle in the current that sweeps them through in awed astonishment at the same instant that the pheromones lacing over you thicken in headiness in their willful wiles, that’s when your irises are whisked away, lured as they are to the baited source of it all.

Your breath hitches when golden eyes pierce your own, fiery fervor flashing in them amidst the ferocious flames that lick hungrily at him from all directions in their passionate parchedness to welcome him into their warmth.

His irises rove ravenously over you, heat coiling low within you as your wolf preens at the attention while you do the same.

Covered in the color of soot, Jungkook’s lower half is ashen with cindered linen that clutches with cohere to him in every slew of thew cording his legs. Adorning his middle is a blackened buckskin belt that bears a perfect hourglass shaped waist and already your salivary glands are fructuously fertile in their gushing of spittle within your jaw that drops when you drink in the overtly obscene shirt that is provocatively provoking in its transparency that elicits the subsequent swoons of omegas around you.

It leaves nothing to the imagination and, like a second skin, vaunts every delicious dip and ridge of his mouth-watering musculature.

It is decorated with patterned patches in the shapes of burned brambles that are woven across the material meant to inspire illicit impurities in all that are fortuitously fortunate enough to behold your alpha in how it sinfully sticks to him. Encircling his neck like a thick collar, the shirt bands around him and over it, a blazoned blazer engulfs him. Like it has been seared through by fire, it is open to reveal his clothed chest in its entirety.

Tendrils of dark hair fall over his face in dangerous, wild wisps that curl amidst the humidity that overtly obsess over them.

You can hardly contain your own ire of want that simmers through you at the sight all of that and, when you trail your visage back up to his eyes, they are brightened with amusement while he dares to flick a sculpted brow as if to tease, “Like what you see?”

You lick your lips as a whimper traitorously escapes you while a wolfish grin lifts at his own before the symphony of flutes and lutes harmonize in the opening notes of their song and they sing soulfully for a few meters.

When your alpha begins his damning dance to the thrumming tempo of the waiata whispering through his ears, you already know you’re going to fall even more for him in an impossibly irredeemable descent that you have no wish to ascend away from.

Your alpha sidles forward with purpose pervading his slow movement, his irises burning torridly into your own with the finer feeling that fully fulgurates them before he spins on one foot while the chords of both instruments twirl together with him as he whirls around to face you once more.

The melodic music is, like your alpha, insistent in its eagerness to call commandingly to you in the way that its trill lowers and soon deepens with the same tantalizing temptation into his darkness that captivates you to him in your pure light.

In his meticulous motion, his fingers close around the end of his jacket that he’d caught in an open palm upon completion of his turn only to strum his fingers through the air with the other hand as if he were stroking the strings of an invisible lute between his arms.

He draws his free hand backward before smoothly and flowingly sweeping it forward only to then arc it behind him in a circular kinesis, his chin following his hand like it is tied around his wrist by twine. He repeats this once more, his eyes never straying from yours in the heated intensity that warms your very being as he stares only at you the entire time.

Like a match being struck in various vertices over him, every movement sparks the flinted flicker of white that births from it the embers of an inferno amidst the small moonstones that have been adroitly added over his blazer.

When he steps forward to be bathed by the scarlet rays of the moon that color him in the passion that he dances with, that’s when he vocalizes the sentiments for you that move him in a lyrical lilt that is in sound synchronicity with the instrumental tune he’d written himself.

As he takes in the way that you melt under the smoldering charcoal of affection for him, he can’t help the words that fall freer than rain on a spring day as he allows his emotions for you to pour out of him while you thaw him with your own rays of radiance that glisten in your eyes and in the way that you fondly look on at him like he’s the only one that exists in your world.

His baser being demands that he show to you what you mean to him and so he does.

He sings how rapidly his life had gone by and how lonely with lorn he’d been in his wait for his mate in the incertitude of whether he’d been correct in his way of living without you while his arm lifts so his fingers point toward the sky that, through its unstopping hands, had turned the cogs of time.

“Oh, I think I was in yesterday ‘cause everybody walk too fast, don’t know what to do with, am I livin' this right?”

He chants to you about the time that had been stolen sufferingly away from you both in your childhood and adolescence that had barred you both from each other in the forbidding rules of the compound that outlawed with onus your unavoidable union.

“Why am I alone in a different time and space? Oh I can't call ya, I can't hol' ya, Oh I can't…”

He proclaims the struggling strife that had wracked him in being forced to remain apart from you for so unbearably long in his cover behind the trees while he’d watched over you as his soul had cried for the only one that could complete it in the days he’d spent following the orders of his father.

“Sometimes when I’m gasping for air, I wear my hat low and keep running, yeah, I don't know where I go, even if it's opposite of sun…”

He chronicles with vivid verve the verdict that he has brimmed blisteringly with in your brilliance that shines as bright as the stars above while he pumps his closed fist gently against the heart that thumps only for you as he continues, his hand dragging through the hair you’d pulled on in effort to induce his mercy in the wood before he runs his other palm along the thigh he’d watched you so beautifully pleasure yourself on while he’d been blessed with the view of your damned delight atop of him.

“One time for the present and two time for the past, I’m happy that we met each other now til' the very end…”

He declares to you that you are, after so long, the Eve that he will always escape into the verboten oasis to find as he jumps high in the sky, his spirits soaring for you as he watches you reach dotingly for him before he lands to extend a hand of his own to you before spinning in a circle like a clock to once more face you.

“Oh, I will call ya, I will hol' ya, oh I will and yes you know, oh yes you know that I will...”

Enraptured in ardency’s hold over you, Jungkook’s gleaming gold irises are streaked so profoundly with earnest elan that, as they sink into the riveting depths of your own, they scintillate with silver like the genial moon that you are to him as it washes over his eyes the farther that he descends into your deep devoutness that floods you for him.

In the irrefutable irrepressibility of your own sentiments for him, your own eyes dye themselves gold like the sun that is your alpha to you.

His dulcet words phosphoresce the burgeoning seedlings of affectionate attachment to him as he nears you along the lip of the stage that is speckled with candles that cast their light over him like sunbeams themselves that, through their heated kisses, leave him shimmering in an ethereal golden glow that radiates out into the night that has befallen you.

You do not know if a more mellifluous voice exists in the world than his own with the way the chords of your own heart are struck with each soulful solfege that is uniquely and undeniably him as his eyes seek nothing but you, who has brought so much lustrous light to his sky.

Neither of you pay any mind to the collective series of shocked gasps or astonished huffs that are emitted from the converged crowd behind you.

In the stuttered stupefaction that fastens itself to them like moss to a tree, all eyes are on you and your alpha that take notice only of only each other amidst the mutated metamorphosis that had transfigured the irises of both of you to match those of the other through the gift of sight that marks two soulmates in their belonging to one another.

Such an ocular occurrence had not been recorded for over seven thousand years in the rare paucity that the moon granted with the declining diminishment of purebreds descended from the lupi antiquis.

Thus, in the episodical exceptions where the celestial body did bestow such an innately intimate connection between two wolves, it was said that their zealous zest for each other would guide them in their reigned rule over the other wolves that would bring prosperity and peace for generations to come under the moon’s favor.

Yet, under the music’s metrical melody, its sonorous spell casts a coddling cocoon over you and your mate until the silken thrum hums around only the two of you as its fibered filaments shield everything but the both of you from each other’s vision.

Your mate’s vociferous voice fades after the chanted crescendos ravel into decrescendos until the collection of euphonious sounds wrap wholly and completely around you as his body moves with the beat of the organ that pumps only for you within him.

He plants both feet to the floor before a hand trails down his body in a vinelike display while one leg is uprooted off the wood beneath him to swing in front and behind him as if he’s embedded into it and can’t bear to relinquish himself from the earth that grounds and supports him like you do.

Like the celestial bodies whose hands that turn time, he easily epitomizes this when he steps forward, his arms turning in a spherical motion akin to that of sun’s path through the realm above during the days it brings before the moon journey in her brother’s stead as the siblings of the sky steal away the lost moments that had been wracked away from you both amid their ceaseless passing.

His wrist then flicks outward as if he’s trying to halt the spindles of a chronometer from ticking precious time away from him as his irises flare frenetically into your own with the fervor that flecks them.

You whine for him as he moves, his fervent feeling made so precisely palpable with the way his shoulders roll in circles along with the crux of the heart sitting in his chest that hastens its already quickened pace as he glimpses the tender smile lifting along your lips.

It sets his very soul afire with contentedness before one and then the other hand pounds against each pectoral only to then sweep upward to tangle through his hair as his legs splay outward so that each thigh bulges boastfully against the fabric while his wolf howls when he hears you suck in a breath.

It is one that sputters with a stammer from your lips in the emotion he’s nurtured inside you and drawn forth from the deepest recesses of your body that wails needily for him, your wolf baying with want to be closer, nearer and together.

The sound you make lathers itself like honey over his ears and he’s sure he’ll never tire of that with how breathlessly bewildered you had seemed all because of him.

He’s swiftly besieged by his baser being to show to you how much you affect him and to display to you what you do to him in his deep-seated desire for you and, never one to bypass his urges, he does not cage it.

Once his hands have streamed through his luscious locks, he trickles them over his face, irises still settled along the substrate of your own as his fingers drag downward to collect the lapels of his blazer before, in one fluid motion, he sheds it from his shoulders as a loud whimper dribbles from you while you absorb attentively the salacious sight before you.

His hair has fallen crazedly over one eye in curved, thick tufts as an iridescent iris dappled in the chroma of the orbs that oscillate through the sky during the night and day. Through his continued movements, the mingled union of a silver and gold buries itself as deeply as it can within your depths as the offending piece of clothing trails lower until it pools at his wrists.

With a devastating grin, he puffs out his chest with proud pride, a sheen of sweat shining under the thin material amongst dark, dusky nipples that nip against it in protest of its tautness that chafes against them.

Instantly, your legs are rubbing against each other without your mind’s notice as he smirks when your essence that is spawned by your sex spumes over you before its titillating tinge rises in the air to collect under his nostrils.

Your rousing spice seasons every recess of his body in the relish that causes his pupils to dilate in craving, his member growing hard within his trousers for you as he pulls his lip between his teeth with a growl before gyrating around and when your irises meet once again, he pivots to the side at the same time his fist opens and closes while he outstretches a hand for you.

Your limbs are slowly sapped of their strength with each measured movement that he makes and when he runs toward you until he’s dangerously close to the edge of the stage, you think he might reduce you to a puddle on the ground beneath him when his hand returns to the corpulent collection of muscles cording the crus of his leg as he whisks one palm along his thigh while he rotates his ankle inward to have every tendon jump in a torturously teasing sight while his free fingers curl inward before him as he repeats it all with the other.

Saliva pools in your mouth as he sleekly and confidently moves with the impressively intricate series of footwork that he glides impossibly closer to you with and with one final twirl and fatal arch of a brow, he shirks the blazer off him entirely while his ligaments lower him down to one knee in sharp, quick movements that have his chest caving in and out while he descends, his head tipping back to bare a neck sluiced with sweat in a sight that has you drooling in want to touch and feel him against you once again.

Jungkook leers longingly at you when he slides forth onto his other leg with one bent underneath him while the other is jutted out like the perfect throne that you’d gladly fall to your knees for.

He looks like a god that you would readily worship and yet, he dances like a demon.

It is with a lethal dark flash of his eyes that he snaps the fingers of one hand to the final strum of the lute while the other trails damningly along his chiseled body until it settles over the swelling cock throbbing for you that you whine with the unyielding yearningness that has captured every inhibited iota within you under his command.

You are utterly enthralled as his lips move to mouth, “All of this was for you, my omega. Now that everyone knows what we are to each other, no one will dare to keep you from me,” he watches with interest the way that your lips part in his effect on you and curses in how far away you are from him as he utters, “Come to me once I’ve gone away from here, pretty. Your alpha requires your presence after being denied of you in the forest. I will be waiting anxiously for you.”

When he stands to sink into the shadows behind him that the light cannot permeate, your high-pitched warble still has not dissipated.

You only realize this when a spindly, bony hand is laid over your shoulder to pull you back and away from the pack of wolves around you while the familiar and oldened voice of your grandmother tries to break through to you in the stupor set by your alpha.

When you don’t respond to the many redundant repetitions of your name, she squeezes your shoulder to throatily call out, “My, my, my… you are besotted with that alpha that names himself Jeon Jungkook, my dearest granddaughter. I hadn’t the foggiest idea before on why he asked me to allow him to dance, but now I see that it was for you. I suppose that is to be expected, considering everything."

It is the mention of your alpha that grapples your attention away from where you’d last seen him as you tilt your head in question before you quietly squeak, “I am very taken with him, but what do you mean by that?”

She laughs, “Grandchild, these eyes may be old, but I saw within you and he the gift of sight that the moon mother above bestowed to you both that, by her blessed design, declares each of you as the other’s soulmate. Even the gift of olfaction was there, for this nose can still smell the taint of sex that he, along with you, produced during his performance.”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks burn in embarrassment while you stutter, “Grandma, h-he made me do it. I c-couldn’t help it.”

She only pats your head to say, “It is nothing to be ashamed of, grandchild. The moon chose him for you. It is only natural that you respond to him in such a way. Incidentally, what did he say to you at the end of his dance?”

Mortification has you worrying at your lip before as you fidget as you shyly whisper, “He asked that I go to him. I believe he wishes for us to have some time alone together before the offering.”

Your grandmother nods in understanding and instead of finding any trace of dissenting disapproval in her countenance, she encourages, “Then go and join him, my granddaughter. You must be swift, though,” she steps back to gesture to the row of alphas that stand before the stage, “There are only a few performances left before you and he must return for any challengers that may wish to win you from him, though I don’t see how that will be possible as smitten as you appear for that alpha that you call Jungkook.”

Gratification steeply swills over you as you embrace her, “Thank you, grandmother. We will be quick as the wind, you’ll see.”

She waves you off as you scurry with hurry beyond her toward the wooden dwelling that houses the elders, for it secondarily serves as the temporary domain of the dancers that begin the performances where they are allowed to change clothes and prepare in the spare rooms that are located along the first floor.

You do not notice the shift of silhouettes in the distance as you scamper along, your mind swimming in the waters of your alpha that have soused you so.

It is only when you are scuttling along the steps that lead up into the den that you hear the whistle behind you before it is followed in a voice saturated far too saccharinely with sweetness that has your tongue souring in its wake as it muses, “Damn, Taehyung. You weren’t lying. She really is such a divine little thing.”

In the hormones heaving through you, they insistently incur your instincts that are stirred with stimulation only for your alpha and in simultaneous sequence, the repellant revulsion of any wolf that is not him in your baser being’s acknowledged acceptance of Jungkook as your mate.

Your wolf kecks under the miasmatic fumes of malodors that are bitter and acetic as they burn your nostrils, the stench of alphas heavy in the air as you remain in your place with your back to them while you try to stifle the gag that sits low in your throat as you manage, “What do you want with me? Why are you here and who are you?”

You recognize one as Taehyung’s, but the other is unknown to you.

There’s a mawkish chortle that bellows, “You do not know of me? You will, omega. Soon enough, you will. All of you omegas eventually do.”

The words lift the hairs at the base of your neck in the cloying sugariness of them that clump heavily together in their mission to rot your insides as the swish of grass grows louder in the closing distance between you and the stranger that is an obstructing obstacle between you and your alpha.

The unabating advance does not terminate and when you furtively glance over your shoulder to see a hand inching toward you, you cringe with the trace of a hiss tinting your voice, “Do not touch me. My alpha is very protective of me and will not be merciful if you toy with what is his. Your friend over there,” you flick your chin back toward the source of the foul odor that you know to be Taehyung’s, “he was not so lucky when he felt it just to try to take me from my alpha.”

The stranger makes a sound of consideration, “Hm, a creature with some bark to her bite. I like that.”

It’s as though you’re being backed into a corner, your wolf yelping in protest as you try to rein in your emotions that beg you to beseech your alpha that is so close, yet so far away from you right now. If he does not come for you, it is only a matter of time before your claws will come out in defense.

Fingers stretch toward you and before they can make contact with your skin, you bare your teeth to sibilate, “It seems you do not understand. It was only I that could calm Jungkook- who is bound to me and I to him by the moon above- through the rage that overcame him when he was ready to maim Taehyung for foolish disobedience,” you turn to pierce your perpetrator with a cautionary glare as you forewarn, “The wounds that were left in Taehyung’s shoulder are but minor lesions of what my alpha will scar you with should you dare to incur the wrath of my mate.”

In a momentary lapse of an instant, you think that you derive in your detection the distinct aromatic attar of your alpha nearby, but it is fleeting as are the contours that are casted of a darkened outline that, so quickly you think it may have been a trick of your eye, briefly block the light filtering past the opaque aperture of aged glass next to the entrance of the den.

They disappearingly depart almost as soon as they arrive with only a sliver of a scent that remains and without a doubt, there is only one wolf it could belong to in its special singularity.

It had been Jungkook, your alpha.

You wish you could be with him and wonder if an elder had gotten to him before you could, but you’re not given long to ruminate on either of those despite the sudden stoutness that is spritzed over you in Jungkook’s oceanic presence that ebbs and flows faithfully alongside you.

In spite of it all, it is Jimin who stands before you when you look down on him. He is clad in bloodred silks that contrast clashingly with dark smudging around the sides of his eyes while pewter colored hair hangs loosely over his forehead with the oils that must have been used to carefully style it while he cheekily checks you out much to your discontented dismay.

“What you say is of little concern to me, Y/N. I always get what I want and you will be no different,” he says.

You have seen him only a few times before during his performances and had once thought him to be beautiful as a doll, but now you can see where his stitches have become loose in vainness that bursts at his seams.

You take a step back and away from him, your alpha’s presence pouring itself onto you through the remnants of his smell that douse his confidence over you as you cross your arms to chide, “It is a pity your looks have made you so conceited, Jimin. You have become spoiled and ruined by them, it seems,” you harden your gaze at him, “I am not like everyone else and I do not wish to have anything to do with you because I am already promised to Jungkook, who is your pack alpha that you must obey.”

One side of his lips lift up his irises hoggishly digest you from head to toe as he decides, “It’s precious that you believe any of that is enough to stop me,” he climbs one step slowly before ascending up the other until he is eye level with you, “Spend the limited time together that you can, little omega. It will be over soon enough when I reap you from him and harvest the most fruitful crop this fucking pack has ever had and plow you until you’re bursting with my seed instead of his.”

Your alpha has never spoken to you with such disregarding disrespect. It irks you with anger that reddens enflamed within you.

You grimace at that, disgust damningly withering your insides in its blight as you sneer, “Try it, Park Jimin. You will never win against him. When you lose to him like I already am assured that you will,” you lift your chin in defiance, “you’ll regret allowing that minuscule cock of yours to rule over your tiny, pygmy brain.”

That earns a titter from him as he replies, “What a little spitfire you are. No matter,” he gibs, “I will tame you soon enough.”

Obstinance consumes you in its angry wildfire as you scoff, “As if you ever could. Good luck with your attempts that shall only end in bitter failure, for I will never be yours. I belong to Jungkook and there is nothing you could do to change that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jimin smiles so wide it’s almost nauseating with how much his lips can twist as he backs away with a quip coming from between them, “When he loses to me-“

“He will not be defeated by the likes of you. This, I know to be true,” you narrow your eyes in certitude’s credence that your blood sings with.

“If I do not win you, then Taehyung will. Nonetheless, we shall see, little omega. We shall see,” his vexing voice dims in deliquesce as the moonlight regressively recedes while the two prowling wolves remit themselves into the shadows of utter umbra that swallow them from sight.

You stand for some moments counting contrived breaths hindered by your ire that had smoked and combusted within you to block your airway from effectively expelling the blazing emotion and it is only when your chest no longer aches with the stressed strain to contract that you set in motility once again to make your way into the elder’s den.

It doesn’t take you long to locate your alpha in the perceptible path of pheromones that lead you to him and there is no havering hesitation that stymies its stall of you from opening the oaken door before closing it as it groans in its senile senescence from the effort of such work.

Any negative sentiments that Jimin had left brewing immediately disintegrate within you as you ogle openly how, with his back to you, your alpha damningly divests from his body the shirt made of pure sin in its tempting taunt to you.

He pulls it from his middle slowly and torturously drags it up to reveal skin soaked by the sun and burned by the claws of combat, the serried slew of muscles lining his shoulders swelling savagely in his mannered motion and only when he lets it fall limply on the floor do his eyes find your own through the mirror he ostentatiously oxidizes you through.

Golden irises specked with silver sear into your own as one brow arches up only for him to rumble out, “Enjoy the show, pretty? I know I did.”

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kodzukenscorner · 4 years

Text

Sakusa, Ushijima, Bokuto, and Akaashi’s S/O singing Into the Unknown

anastasiasthings asked: Can I request Sakusa, Ushijima, Bokuto, and Akaashi s/o randomly singing into the unknown and hit its perfectly? 😂😂❤️

a/n: asdfhjk i’m gonna kms-- i wrote this whole thing out on mobile and hit ‘save draft’ and tumblr rlly said “oopsie, something went wrong” and deleted the WHOLE THING so yea i wrote this twice lol

wc: 1,526

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Sakusa

You’re used to Sakusa being out a lot, he’s usually at practice so you have learned to let go when he’s not around

Honestly, you’re usually cleaning the place because Sakusa loves to come home to a clean home

So you have an entire playlist dedicated to when you need to tidy up

It’s full of songs that you like to sing and dance to so you can have fun while you’re doing your chores

And Disney songs are PERFECT for that

You had made Saksua watch a couple Disney movies with you but that was never really his thing so he didn’t pay much attention

You gushed about how excited you were for Frozen II and when you saw it together you were immediately obsessed with Into the Unknown

But Sakusa seemed...indifferent

Either way, it was easily your favorite song in your playlist and you always sang along to it

While you were busy cleaning you didn’t hear the door opening, Sakusa coming home earlier than usual to try and spend some more time with you since he had been so busy lately

He heard you in the kitchen and headed over there to greet you

Instead he saw and heard you belting out the climax of Into the Unknown while mopping

He was about to laugh at how cute you were but you actually hit the note very well and he was shocked

When the song ended you turned to continue mopping and saw your boyfriend in the doorway watching you

You removed your earbuds and sheepishly smiled at him

“I didn’t know you were coming home so early!”

“I didn’t know you could sing Into the Unknown that well”

You perked up at that

“You remember the song?”

“Of course I do, you loved the movie so much how could I forget”

You didn’t realize how much attention he paid to you and the things you liked

It was his way of saying he loved and cared about you since he didn’t say it much

And that made your heart swell

You dropped the mop and jumped into his arms, he was surprised but caught you nonetheless

“I love you Omi”

You leaned in to kiss him and when you pulled away you leaned your forehead on his

“I love you too” He whispered

Now it was your turn to be shocked

Ushijima

It is very hard to surprise this man, seriously you’ve never even seen him raise his eyebrows in surprise before

You made it your personal mission to try and get a reaction out of him

You tried everything: hiding somewhere and then jumping out to scare him, spicy foods, even taking him out to karaoke to try and get him to laugh

But it was mostly you, Tendo, and Semi singing while Ushijima just watched you all

Nothing fazes this man!

You wanted to take him out to karaoke more often because you love singing along to your favorite songs but he didn’t seem to really enjoy it

So you just made do with playing instrumental versions of songs at home and singing along to them there

One day you were making dinner for the both of you and Ushijima had gone out to get you some missing ingredients

In the background you had some songs playing and Into the Unknown came on

You loved singing this song but whenever your boyfriend or other people were around you got self conscious about how your voice sounded

But this time you knew you were alone so you decided to really let go

When the song hit the chorus you flawlessly hit the difficult notes like they were nothing

Honestly, you were more focused on cooking

The door opened after that and you quickly ceased your singing to greet your boyfriend

He came next to you and put the plastic bag down and you could see from the corner of your eye that he was staring at you

You looked at him and he had this strange look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place

“Is something wrong Toshi?”

“I didn’t know you could sing so well”

You froze

“Huh?? You heard me??”

“The walls aren’t very thick”

You could’ve died from embarrassment but you were more focused on the quizzical look on his face

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m just surprised”

Wait

WHAT??

This is what he looks like when he’s surprised???

You were so giddy from knowing you finally surprised and got a reaction out of him that you completely forgot the embarrassment you were feeling only a moment ago

When he saw you beaming with excitement he couldn’t help but flash a rare smile back at you

“We should go to karaoke more often”

Bokuto

Oh this baby boy LOVES to sing random songs with you all the time

Whenever the two of you are just spending time together, doing your own thing, one of you is usually playing some music

It never takes long before Bokuto starts singing along softly and then it quickly builds to him scream-singing every lyric

His energy is so contagious that you can’t help but sing along with him

Although you definitely aren’t able to match his volume and he is usually the one to steal the show

Not that you mind at all

Today was no different, you both were focused on your own thing when Into the Unknown suddenly came on

Bokuto always loves singing along to Disney songs because he liked to act out the scenes when he does

So as soon as the song started, he was up on his feet singing and walking around like he was Elsa

His voice quickly grew louder and it was getting harder for you to contain your giggles

He was moving and jumping around so much that he had to stop and catch his breath right in the middle of the song

You picked up where he left off and sang the difficult notes in the chorus with ease

You started singing the next part of the song but stopped when you realized your voice was the only one you heard

You looked over to see Bokuto staring at you with big eyes

“Kou? What’s wrong? Still out of breath?”

Suddenly he tackled you down into a bear hug

“BAAAABE!!! YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU HAD THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL”

Bokuto was busy peppering your face with kisses and all you could do was laugh and try and break out of his iron grip

Bokuto finally took a break from kissing you to look at you with his puppy dog eyes

“I’m sorry I never noticed before, don’t be mad!”

You placed a light kiss on his nose

“Of course I’m not mad”

He flashed his signature smile and pulled you to your feet

He continued playing more songs but this time he let you shine

And he was heart eyes the entire time he listened to you sing

Akaashi

So Akaashi is a more laid back person

Honestly speaking, most of the music he listens to is instrumental or lo-fi stuff because it helps him concentrate

But he knows you like to listen to more upbeat stuff

Sometimes when you two are working together he can hear you softly singing along to some songs and it really makes his heart flutter

He thrives on those moments but you always seem to notice that he’s listening to you so you quickly stop out of embarrassment

But one place you always feel free to sing your heart out is in the shower

Usually the bathroom door is enough to block out most sounds so Akaashi can only hear bits and pieces of you singing no matter how hard he tries

Because god he loves your voice

Once he came home and heard the shower running so he obviously knew you were in there

The closer he got to the bathroom, the louder and more clear your voice got

Then he noticed that you didn’t close the door all the way

He nearly jumped out of sheer joy!!

This meant he could hear your beautiful voice clearly for once

He sat on the ground next to the bathroom and listened to you sing and hum along to random songs

Then you started singing Into the Unknown

He’d only ever heard you hum along to this one so he was on the edge of his seat

When you hit those notes perfectly his heart melted right on the spot

He was so happy he stayed right where he was until you came out of the shower in nothing but a towel

You squealed in surprise when you saw Akaashi sitting on the floor with the most serene smile on his face

“Keiji! When did you get here? And why are you sitting on the floor??”

He stood up and turned towards you, pulling you flush against him as you clung to your towel

“You sound so beautiful when you’re singing, you have no reason to be shy”

And before you could stutter out a response he already claimed your lips with his

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andmaybegayer · 4 years

Text

I bought a typewriter!

Now you might be thinking many things about this like “Well that seems excessive” and “hey Kali aren’t you a Computers Dipshit” and the answer to both of those is yes.

There’s another two posts in me about this, one about why this typewriter in particular is such an interesting piece of cultural history, and another about how it works and why it’s Like This. This post is about neither of those interesting things and instead about me showing off the cool new thing I got and explaining why I wanted it.

One of the old boxes of ribbon cartridges that came with this. Manufactured 1984. Graphic design truly is my passion.

Alright breakdown of what I got:

1976 IBM Selectric II Typewriter (with Courier 12-pitch typing element)

An original Vinyl cover for the machine

Three additional typing elements (in Orator, Artisan and Diplomat)

The original manual

Two large boxes of ancient ribbon cartridges.

A bag full of correction reels

A few pads of correction film

An antique toothbrush for cleaning the elements

A box of accessories that came with the typewriter: Correction tape, typeballs, correction films, three typeballs, some fontface samples on an old envelope, and a toothbrush.

This is an old working machine, not a showpiece. In fact, it was in use right up until the day I bought it and I fully intend to keep using it for as long as I can. This thing is 44 years old, also known as twice my age, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the one who breaks it.

I bought it for ZAR 1200 (about USD 70) from a woman who deals in imported wines, she used it to fill in shipping forms. She has several other typewriters and has been slowly selling them off so I don’t feel bad about this. She’d had it since the 80′s. USD 70 is an absolute song for a working Selectric, they usually go for at least double that without any accessories, but no one is buying typewriters around these parts.

The original manual, dated 1978.

I’ve wanted a typewriter for a little while now, because I wanted a writing tool that produces physical artifacts quickly and immediately. I’m very avidly aware that while I write more than I ever have (mostly Tumblr posts) these days, they’re all very ephemeral. They will not outlive Tumblr, and they certainly will not outlive me. Carbon black on paper is much more long lived, typewritten texts are still readable over a century later in many cases. MySpace accidentally deleted everything that happened on their site before 2013. You decide which one is more sensible.

In addition, this is a nice way for me to produce writing that is too personal for my usual habit of cracking open a Tumblr edit tab. A lot of posts are languishing in my drafts folder after I realised I didn’t actually want to post them online and just needed to get them out of my head. This is mostly intended to take the place of wandering in circles in my room talking to myself.

A sample sheet with the four font faces that came with this typewriter

Now you may say that I should just type stuff on a computer, or write out notes longhand. To that I say a) printing is the worst experience one can have on a computer and b) I hate writing by hand. I could never keep diaries as a kid because it involved writing by hand and it sucked, in fact I’m almost certain that I don’t actually know how to write and that I just figure out the shapes of letters new every time I have to do it. I can type extremely naturally, almost at my speed of thought. I will only get better at this. It is also UNBELIEVABLY loud.

I’ll have to talk more about the historical and social legacy of the IBM Selectric and, to a lesser degree, that of typewriters in general in another post, as well as the utter miracle of engineering prowess that is the IBM Selectric. Let’s just say that those were also a big part of why I chose this. It’s a really important piece of history for engineers, computer nerds, typists and secretaries, the last of which is a group to which I have no real claim but I think they’re neat.

A scan of the demo page the last owner wrote for me, showing most of the capabilities of the machine.

This thing is a battleship, it’s in basically perfect condition. The only problems are that the correction tape needs to be replaced and realigned, and the currently installed typeball is stuck on and the release lever isn’t working. These can both be solved without too much trouble, plus there’s a phone number for a repair and servicing place that the previous owner took it to stuck on the outside, so that’s good for me. Yes, there are still places that service these machines as normal business, I was very surprised.

little bit of my own demo text. Did you know William Gibson wrote Neuromancer, that cyberpunk hyperfuturistic work of fiction, on a typewriter? He didn’t own a computer until after it was published.

1:1 pixel focus of the text from the above photo. It is a VERY smooth operator. You can see where I corrected an error in the word “channel”.

That’s about all I got for now, this is extremely cool. I’m really enjoying using it.

#typewriter #selectric #IBM #engineering #technology #old hardware

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kelltheowlenby · 4 years

Text

Luz IS a chosen one and here’s why

Omg I deleted this the first time and have to start over from a super rough draft cuz I spelled chosen wrong in the image and I’m not even gunna fix it now cuz I’m bitter.

OK ok so I feel like I've seen most of this information theorized about individually but with wing it like witches I feel like a connected some dots and my brain's going to explode. So in this essay I will be telling you why Luz is a chosen one, who chose her, and why.

This theory contains some spoilers for wing it like witches, and potentially the show going forward.

So lets start with the theory and then we can go back and review the evidence.

Luz is a chosen one, she was chosen by the writer of the Azura books. This person wrote the Azura books to influence her and created Clone Lus so she can stay on the boiling isles. Her goal is to take down the emperors coven.

Now let me tell you why.

First, how do we know Luz has a clone?

Well we don't for sure, but the fact that when we are introduced to Gus's clone for the first time the show makes a point to show the clone misbehaving and having a personal identity outside of Gus makes me believe a clone developing it's own personality is something that will happen in the show. Now if Lus does have a clone that went to camp that means someone knew she was coming to the boiling isles. This was planned ahead of time. Owlbert is the one who leads Luz through the door, and it seems extremely intentional. This means it is someone who has a strong bond with Owlbert , which obviously leads to Eda, but I don't think it's her. Eda is genuinely surprised and confused by Luz, so that means it's someone who has a connection to Eda. Someone Owlbert trusts and is willing to work for. Hmmm put a pin in that.

Now second, what evidence do we have that Luz is chosen and this was a long term scheme, not just a last minute decision?

The Azura books. With Wing it like witches I personally think it's impossible to ignore the blatant parallels between Luz, Amity, and the Azura books. I believe they were written and released in both dimensions to lead these girls in the right direction. They have had a ton of impact on both their lives and their relationship. Without these books they would not trust each other, and honestly would have missed out on a lot of character growth outside their relationship with each other. Luz wouldn't even have chosen to stay in the boiling isles if it wasn't for the cover art of an Azura book.

Not only that, but it’s pointed out MORE THAN ONCE that it’s strange that they have both read/watched Azura content. In the library Luz is surprised they are released on the boiling isles (letting us know this isn’t normal/expected) and amity is surprised in wlw that Luz has seen the same azura movie as her. I don’t believe this is a coincidence, the writers want us to be curious.

Third. Why Luz? What's so special about this human girl, and why would she be chosen for anything special?

Luz impacts everyone she meets, and the people she meets are important. She was intentionally matched with Eda, and not only has it softened Eda's heart but Luz gives her something to live for, to fight for. Twice in the first episode Eda seems willing to give in to capture only to change her mind when she realizes Luz is in danger. That's before she even knows Luz, what would she do for her now that she's her kid? Topple an entire oppressive government perhaps? Eda is a rebel but she’s not a revolutionary. She see’s the flaws with the system the way it is but she doesn’t have anything to push her to change it. Luz could be the key to that.

Now Amity, she freaking adores Luz, and that connection is only going to get stronger. The Azura books are pushing that connection hard. They WANT Amity to care about Luz. Why? Because Amity is connected to the emperors coven. She's a powerful witch well on her way to joining, and maybe eventually leading the emperors coven. Her mentor is the coven's leader and Amity likely has influence over her. Amity is intended to be the inside influence, or a spy, or something along those lines. Swaying her perspective can sway the power balance of the entire emperors coven if cards are played right.

And another reason Luz is chosen? She's powerful as HELL. Keep in mind she's only been learning magic for a FEW WEEKS, she only knows FIVE spells, and look what she's already accomplished. She has brought a house to life with her friends, and amplified Amity's magic enough to make a MASSIVE abomination. Theories are going around about that having to do with friendship or love or heart rates, but what if it's Luz? What if it's her connection to the island? Once she knows how to do a spell she doesn't struggle to cast it. If she has the glyph right she can cast it as big or small or as powerful as she likes regardless of the size of the glyph. She turns Grom into a massive tree with a glyph the size of a playing card. She is never tired after casting spells, she never runs out of magic, her form of magic combats creatures who can literally eat magic for dinner. Luz is no joke, she's a beast, and within weeks she's casting at levels on par with top students and graduated witches.

Now the final question. Who chose Luz?

The easy answer is Eda, because Owlbert is hers, but I don't think that's right. She seems too surprised by Luz and confused by her behaviors. She’s also too willing to let Luz leave. Emperor Belos is a decent guess too because we know he's trying to get to Eda, but why would he provide her with a powerful apprentice before he can even capture her? So I'm going to throw him out the window as well. Lilith? No, she was surprised Eda's apprentice was a human, and that she had an apprentice at all. Amity? lol no sorry. So who?

Someone we haven't met before. Mayhaps a character from season 2 that Dana is excited for??? Someone with access to powerful oracle magic to predict the future and identify Luz and what she needs to be guided down the right path, as well as illusion magic to create the Lus clone. Someone with close connections to Eda, that Owlbert would trust and work for. Someone who wants to take down Belos, and needs Eda's help to do it.

Maybe their relationship is strained, maybe Eda forgot her because of the curse, maybe there's a whole underground revolution and Eda's friend is just a part of it. I don't know, but I'm excited to find out if any of this theory is on par with what happens in canon.

hopefully I didn’t leave anything out. I’m so mad I deleted the post by mistake XD let me know what you think? Do you see any holes? Any additional evidence?

#toh #the owl house #luz #lus #luz noceda #luz the chosen one #the chosen one #eda #eda clawthorn #lilith #lilith clawthorn #amity #amity blight #wing it like witches #owl house theory #the owl house theory #toh theory #kell theory #kell analysis

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writing-mlm · 4 years

Note

Heyo! May I request a Denki Kaminari x support course male where Denki is crushing hard and attempting to ask reader out?

Kaminari Denki X Male reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: cursing suggestive scenes, make-out scene

Four years. It's been four years; one thousand, sixty days, two hundred eighty weeks since Kaminari Denki had first developed a crush on the quiet boy in the back of his seventh-grade classroom. He had been pining after him since the first day he transferred from Shirakawa, a village in the Ōno District, Gifu Prefecture. Coincidently, that day happened to be Denki's birthday so he had the opportunity to give the new kid a somewhat relaxed first day.

While he never learned much about you, other than the things you shared during class or what he overheard you talking about, he was absolutely hooked on the idea of you. He was sure he had a thing for people who were somewhat rude to him, like the small crush he had on Jiro and Shinsou throughout his first year at UA but you weren't. Whenever you talked- which was rare even though you had gone to the same school twice, it was brief and rushed. Once he managed to get a whole sentence out of you before you were whisked away by another support course kid.

You were popular among your course's peers, more outgoing than you were in middle school, so you hardly had a moment to yourself outside of your workshop. And- in the most respectful way he could put it, you got hot. You always did have your own style that he could pick out even with the school's uniform but with the support kids slack on uniforms he really got to see how you dressed.

Normally, you were a pair of plain gray coveralls but never fully. They always hung around your hips, the arms pulled inside out like you had worn them but had gotten tired and took it off. Unlike Mei, you hardly ever tied them around your waist, usually, they stayed up with the folds you created. Along with the coveralls, you wore a pair of (f/c) steel-toed boots, without any laces, instead, there was a cuff keeping the shoes tight and like Mei, you wore a sleeveless black tank.

He guessed it was from the constant picking up of heavy objects but he couldn't help but notice the shadows of your muscles whenever you stretched. Or when you put your hands on your hips to catch your breath after running, or when you wiped the sweat from your forehead on hot days.

If he could draw, he knew he'd have entire books how he pictured you. Maybe he would have drawn you his confession rather than how he actually planned on doing it.

An email.

Kaminari Denki's best way of asking his biggest crush was an email. It was laughable, he knew that all too well when Mina and Sero laughed for nearly ten minutes at the idea but he thought it better than his original idea. Confessing in the middle of everyone at school, that would for sure embarrass not only him but you. Plus it would out the both of you to random strangers if you said yes- just him if you said no which was something he didn't want to deal with just yet.

So, yes, an email was the perfect idea in his mind. He even wrote it out first- to get an idea of what he wanted to say first before he never sent it. Nope, he wasn't going to send it. The email remained sent, a draft for nearly two weeks before he deleted it. Not even noticing he had the wrong email the whole time, it was addressed to your older sibling who had a similar name.

"Just go do it," Mina drew out as she slumped on Denki's back during their free class. She was getting tired of hearing about his long time crush, in the beginning, she thought it was cute and gave him pointers- having gotten a boyfriend with those same ones she knew they worked well. But now she almost wished he got over the crush.

"Please," Sero agreed. "This is painful." Sero was in the same boat as Mina, only he had that idea for a month now. If he could pinpoint it, he lost all hope the moment Denki had the idea of confessing via an Instagram account. He would make a page for anonymous UA student confessions and once it was popular enough he'd send one in as gossip.

Maybe that email wasn't such a bad idea, looking back on it.

"Guys," Denki drew out, tossing his pencil down to his desk and watched as it rolled off. "He's gonna say no! He's like- totally hot and out of my league," The two looked at each other then and Denki as he slammed his head on his desk, the loud thump echoed throughout the room before a soft ow came from him.

"He's not Todoroki level hot," Mina shrugged, her eyes drifting to said boy as he studied up the upcoming test. "Or Bakugou," She looked over at Bakugou who looked as if he was close to blowing his lid while he helped Kirishima study.

"He blows them out of the water! What're you talking about?" Denki gushed, his hand snapping up to glare at Mina, unaware of Sero's knowing grin.

"Tell him that then," She suggested and before she could get another word in, Denki stood up, his chair rolling into the desk behind him and his palms flat on the desk.

"I will!" He swore before leaving the classroom as Sero and Mina sighed, hopefully, all went well because if it didn't they'd lose their minds hearing Denki sulk for no doubt a year.

While Denki marched down the hallways and through staircases, his pace slowed into a stroll, now unsure if he was going to tell you. He didn't have a plan, he didn't even know where you were! He knew the general area but he didn't know if you had a group lab or a personal lab- he learned that from Iida when he was talking about Mei getting upgraded to her personalized room. But he hoped it was a solo room, he could handle the number of people always working on stuff if he truly was going to finally confess.

"I could follow you to the beginning," He heard from a room near the end of the hall, the sound was a mix of a song and- your voice? He knew you sang from middle school when you did theater- it was one play but he went to every showing with you in it just to hear the one verse you had, but he never heard you sing by yourself or in English.

Despite having had English lessons for two years, Denki didn't know much. He knew greetings, some food, pronouns, the days of the week, and a couple of random words but that was about it. He never really tried to learn English because he had no plan on moving out of Japan but Bakugou told him he had to for press conferences when he was a pro hero.

"Just to relive the start," He heard you continue, the door to the room was slightly open, a faint handprint in oil was on the handle so he grabbed it by the panel and carefully opened the door. "And then maybe you'd remember to slow down at all of our favorite parts," He watched as you worked on something, a blueprint hung just behind whatever you were working on but it was too far for him to see. But as you continued to sing, you placed the wrench on the table beside you and grabbed a screwdriver and a nail.

It seemed like you remembered the song you were singing and dropped the nail before using the screwdriver like a mic when the next lyric approached.

"All I wanted was you!" You belted, your body tensing as you drew out the last work leaving Denki at the door with wide eyes. The lyric repeated a couple of times but never as intense as the first one and as the singer remained the same tone, he noticed you were going higher.

"God!" Someone shouted, slamming the door connecting two labs together open making both of you jump. "Just do it already, you've been singing this damn song for two days! I've never been more jealous of Yuki for being deaf!" The girl, who looked to be in the same year as the both of you, ranted, her red hair flopping around in the messy bun on the top of her head.

"Sonoko," You whined, picking the nail up from the floor and got back to your work. "It's not that easy," Sonoko sighed, her gloved hand pressed against her slightly dirty face much like Mina did when Denki said the same thing. But before she said anything, she saw Denki and grinned.

"Kaminari, whatcha need?" She asked, ignoring the way you stiffened and paused the insertion of the flat head nail.

"Ah-" He snapped out of his sort of trance and looked at Sonoko, both of her eyes were completely green but he could've sworn they had just been a red. "(l/n)? I sorta wanted to talk with him," He pointed at you as if you both had no idea who (l/n) was.

"Crap," You whispered, had he heard everything? Did he see the post you made last night before deleting it no less than five minutes later? His friend had, Sero, you recalled. "What's up?" Spinning around in the chair, you grinned to act as if you weren't sweating bullets at the thought of him knowing your crush on him.

It wasn't a huge crush, you insisted anytime anyone brought it up. The crush was probably going to fade in a month was another excuse you came up with but everyone knew it was a lie.

"In private?" Denki's face scrunched at the (hopefully not) weird request. He should've turned around when he had the chance, he was going to blow it and look like a total idiot again.

"Yeah, sure," You nodded, hurriedly glancing at Sonoko to get her to leave the both of you alone. Not that she needed to be told twice as she was already making her way back to her room.

"So," You trailed, turning back to the Roomba you stole from your dad in an attempt to make it better.

"Right," He nodded, stepping further into the room and looked around. "Nice… lab," The awkwardness was killing him, he just needed to say the most seven words and that's it.

"Thanks, I just cleaned it," Skipping the song that played next, you turned around and looked at Denki. "How've you been? Since middle school and everything- did you ever get over that fear of butterflies?" Around the middle of eighth grade, a rumor started spreading that Denki had run away from a butterfly during a trip to the zoo.

"That wasn't me!" He whined, his shoulders slumped and head tilted back. "It was another blond kid! I wasn't even near the butterfly house!" As much as he wished you had forgotten all about the rumor, he couldn't deny he liked the way you laughed.

He watched as you covered your mouth and tried to not look at him during your failed attempt to hide the bellowing laughter that made his stomach churn. That feeling was in no way foreign to Denki, he always felt it when he heard you laugh when you smiled, even when your nose wrinkled whenever you sketched out a design.

"Sorry," You waved as your laughter died down, a smile still on your face when it was gone. It wasn't that funny but the fact that the rumor was still around two years later was hilarious to you. "But what's up? You don't see hero course kids in the support course halls just to complement our workspace," Denki blanked, he had all that time to think of something to say but he was too focused on you.

"Do you have any open slots?" He asked, hoping that the question would buy him time to actually think of something to say. And, it did, he watched as you got up from your seat to a whiteboard on the other side of the room. Names were messily scribbled on the board, notes written around with arrows pointing to the names it corresponded to.

"Yeah," You nodded, erasing the top name and its notes with your hand before turning to him. "It might take me a bit longer than usual but I have time to work on something new. Shoot," He watched as you crossed your arms over your stomach, your arms unintentionally flexing made him almost short circuit.

"When I short circuit-" He found an idea from his wandering eyes. "It pretty much puts me out of commission and I wanted to see if there was a way that I won't go all whey whey," He mimicked what happens when he overuses his quick and smiled when you nodded instead of making fun of him like his classmates did.

"Yeah, okay, totally," You hummed, walking back over to where you just were and picked up a notebook. There were burn marks and stains all over but the pages were relativity spotless, save for the bleed through. "What type of item do you want? Like a pair of gloves, a vest, a choker," You listed off, honestly throwing the idea of a choker out there as a joke (and maybe because you wanted to see him wear one) but he took it seriously.

"My costume has a collar!" He grinned while you quickly jotted down notes and ideas. "We could just swap the two-out,"

"Okay, so, come back tomorrow and I should have a basic idea where we can work from. If you want I can give you my number- so y'know, we can talk about… the collar," You drifted, your eyes slowly raising to meet his hoping he would say yes.

"S-Sure!" He nodded and gave you his phone, already unlocked when he passed it over.

Once he was gone, you closed your door and ran to Sonoko's lab before slamming the door open. The sudden noise jolted her from her power nap she usually took around that time.

"I got his number!"

Two days later, you were taking measurements of Denki's neck, the two of you were close enough that you could hear his breathing. While you kept your composer Denki was focusing on not accidentally electrocuting you as his eyes hardly ever left your head while you wrapped the tape around his neck.

"Is this too tight?" You muttered, looking up at him and he swore his heart stopped. His throat went dry and he forgot words until he remembered that this wasn't a dream. That you were actually in front of him, awaiting his answer.

"K-kinda," He nodded, blinking away the rush he got as you turned your attention back to his neck.

"Okay… and how is this?" You asked, loosening the tape by a couple of centimeters.

"Pretty loose feels like it's gonna slip off," He laughed, doing his best to ignore the feeling of your soft breathing on his neck. It was almost hypnotizing, the soft breeze mixed with the hum had him on cloud nine and he intended to ride it out as long as possible.

Still, he tried to not let his mind wander like it did the day before when you were actually touching his neck. It was only because you had used your pinky to describe what you were thinking about for his support item. Denki hardly remembered the things you said but gushed to Mina and Sero about it for an hour as soon as he could.

You, on the other hand, you were relishing in the feeling of his neck, the way your body ghosted over his, and how if you just leaned in you could kiss him. His feelings for you were obvious at that point since he did a terrible job at hiding then so you decided to ride out the wave you were on. Sonoko had probably said I told you so more times than you could count within the past two days that you felt stupid for not realizing it sooner.

"Okay," You nodded, taking down the numbers of both measurements and grabbed a small page of different fabrics. "Tell me which you like the most, that'll be the fabric for the choker," You muttered, pulling a chair out for him with your foot while working on the inner workings for the actual support piece.

Being around Denki had gotten substantially easier within the past forty-eight hours, now knowing that your crush wasn't as one-sided as you believed you felt an odd sense of security around him. Now, just because you knew he shared the same feelings for you didn't mean you were going to ask him out- no, there was no way you'd find the confidence. You weren't really the outgoing type, sure you could be, people assumed you were but you thrived of being alone. Being with your ideas and tinkering was where you felt the most secure, not in a crowd of people or when you're being whisked from your work to go and hang out with friends.

Don't get it twisted though, you loved your friends and hanging out but it just wasn't the same as the peace you got when they weren't around. You didn't have to find social cues or hold your tongue during conversations. It was relaxing to be alone, it was fun to be with others.

"I like this one," He said after a moment passed, his fingers brushing against the patch of white fabric. You looked over and hummed, taking the page from him, your fingers accidentally brushing against each other.

"Rayon- a good choice. It's lightweight and absorbent," Rayon wasn't your favorite fabric but it was one you used often but in truth, Denki forgot what he was doing and picked a random one.

His mind was wandering again, this time to what Sero had jokingly said when he announced that he was going to be spending lunch with you.

"Ask him if he's into guys, then ask if he's into blondes!" The last part was meant to be a joke but it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"So," He trailed off. "Any cute girls caught your eye yet?" As soon as he said it, Denki knew it was a dumb question. You were obviously into Sonoko, he caught the two of you whispering and laughing just before he walked into the room.

"Na," You shook your head and threw him a glance. "I'm into guys. How about you?" Something in Denki's mind acted as if he had overused his quirk and he froze. Answers disappeared from his head as he frantically tried to find one and when he did he blurted it out.

"I'm into you!" Oh, how he wished he had walked away from your lab the first time and then the second time, the third time, and now the fourth time. In any one of those situations, he could have avoided the inevitable rejection.

"That's nice to know," You laughed, hiding your face in hopes of not giving away the obvious wide eyes. Sure, you knew he liked you- but for him to blatantly say it? You didn't know how to react. And neither did Denki.

"Um- I-" He stopped himself and looked down at the table. "I was gonna ask you out- I was gonna make a fake Instagram and have people send in anonymous confession, then I was going to write you notes like they do in manga, and then an email and um- well, I was gonna ask is the point." Being nervous was nothing new to Denki but man- that was a new level of nervousness. He could feel his heart in his throat and his face felt like it was on fire the whole time (not that it stopped when he stopped talking).

"I know," You told him, scribbling on the black rayon fabric with a white color pencil. Lines marked the places you wanted to cut and remember for future use.

"You knew?!" He shouted, his heart rate got even faster as ideas raced through his mind.

"Not for long," You reassured him. "Just like- two days. You're bad at hiding it. But- ah- I like you, too,"

"You do?" He asked, his head snapped up from the desk, and over to you, a wide grin on his face only got wider when you nodded. "Now you're embarrassed!" He laughed as his confidence came back and pressed his hands against your face before bringing his own towards yours. "I hope this is okay, (y/n)!" He whispered before his lips met yours.

It didn't take long for you to kiss him back, your hands went to his waist as you pulled him onto your lap. With his legs on either side of yours, you pulled away, only to go right back into kissing.

"What the fuck?" Sonoko groaned as she walked into your lab but Denki didn't pull away. Instead, he ground his hips against yours, the friction caused him to moan into the kiss. "Stop fucking already!" Slightly annoyed, you opened your eyes and flicked her off, silently telling her to leave you alone before kneading the flesh on Denki's thighs.

"You're hella horny," You rasped, pulling away after a couple of tries. "Ever thought of rubbing one out?" Denki smiled and shrugged, his lips moving down to suck the flesh on your jaw, his mouth slowly moving down.

"Do you mind?" He whispered into your neck, only continuing when you agreed.

As the both of you fixed your clothes, you helped Denki fix his hair before wiping spit from his mouth.

"So," He trailed, shyly fixing his tie.

"Are we dating?"

#denki kaminari #denki x you #denki x y/n #x male reader #x reader #denki x reader #denki x male reader #kaminari x male reader #denki kaminari x reader #denki kaminari x male reader

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from-a-reckless-writer · 4 years

Text

Alright, I'm back on Tumblr. I just had to mourn a 6k word Supercorp Fic that I forgot was sitting in my Ao3 drafts for a month and Ao3 deleted it. I was stupid and didn't have another copy and now I feel like life isn't worth it anymore.

Anyways, I'll probably update my two other Supercorp fics real soon. I promise.

For now, have this Supercorp one-shot...

"Luthor, you seen Ponytail?" Snapper asked as he quickly approached Lena Luthor.

Lena scoffed at the blatant disrespect. She was standing beside Supergirl; the Super checking for injuries even when Lena was on the sidelines and she was the one on the field. The rubble and remnants scrunching under Snapper's stomps.

Supergirl immediately turned to Snapper as if to say something but Lena cuts in, "Excuse me?“

"Ponytail, have you seen her?" Snapper repeats in a gruff irritated voice.

"You're addressing me." It wasn't a question, it was an observation.

"I did say Luthor didn't I?" Snapper deadpanned

"If I were you, I'd think twice using that kind of phrasing when talking to the person who owns 70% of shares from the Company you work in. The person who can make you editor in chief to just a copy machine errand boy in less than a nanosecond." Snapper visibly took a hard gulp. There was no stopping Lena, though.

"Or you know, I generally wouldn't talk like that, if I were talking to a Luthor. Because the way you spat their name implied a lot, and I know for a fact those implications are true. So, if I were you I'd be careful."

Lena's eyes were molten emerald glinting in annoyance. Snapper's lips curled into a response but Lena cut him off, "Oh, and also, refrain from calling Kara Danvers, 'Ponytail'. She wrote you a Pulitzer winning piece. The least you could do for her is address her by her own name. If I ever hear you call her that again, your name will never see the glory of a by-line again. Am I understood?"

Snapper looks stunned for a moment.

“Yes, ma'am." He finally manages to grit out. He turned around and started muttering protests under his breath that only Supergirl heard.

Something along the lines of, 'Entitled heiress' and 'abuse of power'.

"What?" Lena asks at the look of Supergirls face. She had red, red ears and a prominent blush on her cheeks and Lena swears there was something unreadable in between those blue eyes.

"I-I uhm- You didn't have to chew him out like that." Supergirl manages to sputter out, Lena watches in amusement as she raises her hand to her face as if to fidget with a non existent pair of glasses. Supergirl settles for clenching and unclenching her fists at her side, instead.

"Oh, but I did. He deserves it."

Supergirl was acting more and more out of character by the minute, gone was the confident hero and in her place a stuttering, fidgety Kryptonian stood.

"Something the matter, Supergirl?" Lena drawled out.

"Nothing, no, yeah it's uh nothing. It's just you do know that's Catco's editor-in-chief you just chastised, right?" Supergirl mutters. Lena raises an eyebrow at her behavior and then a lightbulb moment happens. She puts two and two together.

Lena slowly, saunters into Supergirl's personal space; so close that she hears the hero's breath hitch.

"Did you find my display of power hot, Supergirl?“

She feels Supergirl tense next to her. And Lena slowly backs away, waiting for an answer.

"I uh - uhm. Hot? NO. No, I mean-Ms. Luthor what? Yes. I mean-uh—"

"Supergirl?"

"Itwashot.” Supergirl strings the syllables together tightly, Lena raises her brow again, “So hot.Yes. You’re very hot when you intimidate men." Supergirl seems to let her tongue slip.

Lena couldn't believe it was possible for an alien to reach Supergirl's shade of red, right now.

Apparently, it was so very possible.

"Hm. Well, that's interesting to know." She says and gives Supergirl a trademark smirk.

"But, if you'll excuse me," She leans into Supergirl again and changes her voice to low and sultry, "I have to go and meet my girlfriend, now. I sure do hope she isn't late or else I'm going to be so angry. She's going to miss a devastatingly hot, hot surprise."

Lena makes sure her lips graze the shell of Supergirl’s ear and her nose softly traces the hero’s jawline as she slowly moves back.

When she completely leans away, Supergirl's eyes are blown and Lena can't help the smugness that courses through her.

"OH! Uhm In that case, I should let you go. Yeah, uhm I should be going too. Now, yes, right now. I should be going, now. Goodbye!!"

It was adorable and Lena was finding it all too amusing. Supergirl moves away from Lena and starts walking backwards as she gives her a little wave.

Lena watches as Supergirl clumsily trips over some rumble as she walks away and takes to the skies.

Lena was safely in her limousine when the comms in her ears crackles to life.

Oh, she's forgotten about those.

"Please, do not flirt with Supergirl when both your comms are on. Supergirl, I do not want to know who or what you find hot. And you, Luthor, I don't need to hear my sister getting a hot surprise. Jesus Christ, this is why I didn't want you together on the field."

Fuck, she's also forgotten the fact that Alex Danvers is the DEO Director with a direct communication line to the both of them.

She sighs out an, "Apologies, Director Danvers. Rest-assured it will never happen again." She hopes the CEO voice wouldn't give away her embarrassment right this moment. Three seconds after her apology she hears roaring wind on the other line.

"OH, RAO! SORRY ALEX!"

Author’s Note: Hi, y’all lovely people! Hope you enjoyed that little blurb. Poor Alex. And also, I really, really need to see Lena Luthor out on the field side by side with Supergirl in S6. Supergirl might be a hero but she’s weak when it comes to Lena Luthor blatantly power tripping over men.

#Supercorp fic #lena luthor #kara danvers #Supercorp one shot #Lena Luthor snaps at Snapper #Supergirl's a simp for powerful CEOs #Supercorp #the reckless writer writes #rcklss writes

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supportivespaceforsurvivors · 3 years

Note

is this Devyn's blog?

hey anon, i'm sorry it took me so long to respond to this; between insomnia, work, my birthday, and other personal issues (along with accidentally deleting my initial response in a sleep-deprived lapse of judgement..), i've been pretty low on energy - but hopefully i'll be feeling better soon?

as for your question, it isn't a complete yes or no answer. yes, Devyn is a mod on this blog, and yes, he posts a lot; but nobody 'owns' this blog. all mods are equals; both in the literal sense that we all have to have administrator privileges in order to answer asks, and also that we rely on each other to help with anything we post. we're all human, and as such, we know that we have weaknesses and blindspots; as a team, we talk to each other to help smooth over some of those wrinkles to help y'all the best ways that we can - so even when one specific person's name is put on a post, more often than not, we have all contributed in some way. the reason that Devyn answers things more often than the rest of us is because he simply has a lot more time and energy than the rest of us do, and trying to write a whole response ourselves can be exhausting when you are already low on energy; but conveying our thoughts or opinions to each other for someone else to weave into a post takes a lot less energy. as such, the rest of us on the mod team really appreciate that Devyn is able to answer more often! its not that Devyn is more committed or holds more power than the rest of the mods, just that he's been more available to answer things recently.

and as a side note: we got another ask somewhat along this line of thought, but it mentioned the name of someone who made personal posts on their personal blog - and since i don't want to risk 'calling them out' (for lack of a better term), i don't feel comfortable posting that ask, so i'm adding my response to it here.

i want to start off by saying, we do appreciate when people bring up concerns that they have! giving us feedback on things that might make you uncomfortable or bother you helps us learn how to better help y'all. without feedback, we kinda just assume that we're doing alright - so encourage anyone to give us constructive feedback (i.e., dont just say something like "i dont like [thing] about mod x, fix it" - give us suggestions on how to best fix it!) if something we do bothers you! we wont be upset; you mentioning how we can better help you means that you do care about us, and we would never get upset at y'all for that. and, as such, we do really appreciate that you brought up your issues with us! genuinely our only issue was the fact a specific person was named (which really isnt even an issue - telling us who made the posts helped us find the posts, since we hadnt previously known about them) and we just don't want to inadvertently cause problems for them. we really dont think you had meant to purposefully cause strife, so please dont think we're upset with you!

as for your ask, i get why you would feel that way. Devyn tends to answer a lot and doesn't cushion his answers as much as some of us do, but it isn't due to him not caring or simply wanting the inbox empty - Devyn does care a lot about answering things well, he just prefers to get to the point rather than writing out giant walls of text. rather than try to explain things for Devyn, i'm gonna let him finish up the post by explaining his method for answering asks - i dont want to accidentally say anything that isnt true, but i can guarentee that Devyn does care. if he didn't care, he wouldn't still be here - he does care for all of you, and he does want to help! if he didn't, he wouldn't be putting in the effort that he has been to change how he responds to things in a way that won't upset or trigger people, and he wouldn't put in the effort to try and get input from the rest of us mods. please, do let us know if there's anything else we can do moving forward to help things feel less bad for you. we don't want anyone to feel like they cant be helped or that we dont care for them.

mod berry 💗

---

Hey anon.

I wanted to make sure I also answered this in case you were looking for an answer from me directly.

Originally I had a few paragraphs here essentially echoing what Berry said, but it felt too repetitive and I ended up cutting it out.

We had another ask that we mentioned we're tacking the response to on here. I'm going to copy-paste some of the text from it for context since y'all obviously haven't (and won't) see it, so that my response makes sense:

[...] we wrote in and got a quick response from Devyn whereas previously we got really detailed responses from other mods. It felt like Devyn just sees it as a rush to clear the inbox and not work with other mods. And now this blog feels like his exclusively.

I want to start by saying I understand how how I was pretty much the only one who answered anything during September made you feel like this blog is mine exclusively, but I assure you that's not the case - it just happened to be a particularly shitty month for all the mods here. While those issues haven't disappeared, we should have more availability to answer asks currently.

Secondly, something I think will be helpful is if I walk you through the process of how I answer an ask. I was going to use this one to do that and then proceeded to get distracted and forgot and answered it, so here's a fake example ask. Let's say this ask comes in:

Let's say the question is something any of us can answer easily, like, "How many followers do you have?" That's an easy question and we can all look at our follower count and give you a number. So I click answer.

I always start answering genuine asks with some sort of greeting. Usually "Hey anon," is my go-to. Then the answer. "Oh, we have this many." Then I'll end with a well-wish and my name. Easy enough.

I think part of the issue is that if people ask yes or no questions (like "is my trauma valid?") I'd rather say something short in response, like, "Yes, your trauma is valid regardless of what it is," and sign my name than waste our readers' time and my breath answering with extra words. I just don't see the point in using more words than I need to. I try very hard to make it clear, especially in shorter responses, that I'm not trying to be hostile and am actively aware of my tone. Some answers have more words in them because I always try to make sure to explain what I feel could be misunderstood and that's not always easily done in one or two sentences.

Another thing that might be part of the issue is that Berry, for example, tends to answer asks by grouping paragraphs after which they hit enter only once, and I hit enter twice to start a new paragraph. That doesn't mean Berry's answer has any more actual content in it than mine does, it just might look like that because the format ends up looking more dense in Berry's answer.

Anyway, if someone feels like they want to answer a certain ask but doesn't have the spoons, they can save it with their name to the drafts, which is where a lot of our unpublished asks live. It's like the purgatory of the ask box, because sometimes I put an ask there and sometimes I only think about it. 😬

Asks that go to our drafts aren't ignored, that's just sort of a transition period. If the ask is slightly more complicated, we usually discuss it first in the mod Discord - which you guys obviously can't see. Sometimes if we collaborate on an ask, whoever sees it in the ask box first is the one who ends up answering it, but not always. But we usually just sign those with a single name for sake of ease. If we put all the names of all the mods who contributed any thought to an ask, most of them would have all of our names on them. Also, it's not necessarily accurate to sign my name to an ask if all I'm commenting on is the tone of an ask. Sure, I technically contributed, but I didn't say anything helpful.

If multiple people have thoughts on an ask, usually what we do is one person answers it and the others reblog with their thoughts. This ask is an exception because last time we answered an ask specifically about me that way, it escalated the situation, and we're trying to avoid that.

If none of us know how to answer an ask, we'll usually publish it for our followers' input after a week. I try to follow up about asks that are in drafts pretty often, so usually they don't sit there for a month, but like we've said multiple times, this month has been a bit of an outlier for all of us.

So essentially what I'm saying is that just because you don't see active ask collaboration happening doesn't mean it's not. It all happens in the Discord and, unless you're also a mod in our server, you're not going to see that discussion happening.

Hopefully this helps with the misunderstandings.

Mod Devyn

#ask #answered #mod devyn #anonymous

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a-second-chance-su-au · 4 years

Text

Where is the comic? (Story progress, please read at least the last bit)

Hey guys, Mod Dimonds here! This is both an apology and an explination, and I’ll try to keep it short, but this is where I’m at at the moment so. (If you want to read the “important” part, go find the bold and read from there.)

First of all, no, the comic is NOT on hiatus. And I do have time to work on it irl. The reason I haven’t been working on it is because of the script. I realized that in this scene we’re at right now, I was missing an important piece of information. So- like the idiot that I am- the one time I delete everything I have and start over is the time I happen to get stuck. I cannot progress because I can’t figure out the dialogue.

The problem really is that this conversation establishes a bunch of info for you, the audience, and also provides a bit of context of Pink/Rose’s decision to get Spinel in the first place. So it’s a really important scene. And I think that’s the issue. I cannot write it well. I keep getting off-track, or skipping over stuff. The one time I wrote all the info in there, BOTH Pearl and Rose were out of character. It’s a mess, and I’ve been struggling with rewriting it for at least two weeks now. I need to get it right, and I think I’ve figured out how, but now writer’s block is a thing I have to deal with, too. But I won’t stop until I get this scene right. Then it’s back to drawing IMMEDIETLY afterwards!

I’m sorry I haven’t been able to work on the comic. I hope to get back to it soon!

Second, I have to retcon something I said earlier, about Spinel’s backstory being 7 parts. And it is! However, I don’t want to show the whole thing. I want her story to unfold naturally and organically in the “show,” meaning that as soon as this scene is over, I will be working on SU the show, starting with Bubble Buddies and going from there! The entire timeline is complete (for the original series) unless I decide to throw in a few new episodes to fit the Season 1 aesthetic or change up a few things, so we don’t need to worry about that. The artstyle will be very SU, meaning no shading on the characters (usually), but very nice backgrounds. I am really excited to get working on it, but I feel that I need to finish this scene first.

And that’s what I want to ask y’all. Would you rather just shelve her backstory for right now while I figure out how to write it, and allow the show to start “playing”? Or would you rather wait until I get this figured out? It’s going to affect the flow of the Archive, that’s for sure, but I don’t think that’s a huge problem? Maybe an inconvenience, but everything has links ‘n stuff. I don’t know.

Either ask, DM me, or reply in the notes here on your preferance. I will be less likely to listen to anons tho, since I have no way of knowing if it was the same person twice, but everyone will be taken into account on the choice.

Now to the apology: I’m sorry I didn’t come out about this earlier. No one has been asking where the comic is, but I still feel guilty about it. I said I had it scripted, and then literally 1/2 days later, I deleted what I had and started over, then couldn’t fix it. Whoops. But that’s on me, and I apologize.

I want to give this story the depth that canon SU does for itself, and as of right now, I think I have a good rough draft to do that. But I still want to take my time and really analyze what I have and search for those places where I can do better, or things don’t add up. And I think that’s one of the reasons I can’t do this scene well. I just have to take it slowly. We’ll see.

Anyways. Thank you for reading and understanding.

#help!#dimond speaks #update #this is 100% a me problem and I understand that. I just felt guilty for not explaining myself before now.#So here. Have this.#I think a lot of the episodes will change as I write #or more will be added.#that’s the nature of writing #like with Kyanite’s whole thing #the way I have it right now might be COMPLETELY different to how I actually present it as an episode #everything can change unless it’s already in the comic #that’s all fact #okay #thank you for reading and understanding

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pertinax--loculos · 3 years

Text

Weekly Update 19/09

Currently Writing Absent That Night (tagged: WIP: ATN)

wordcount this week: 14,102

total time writing: 8hrs 05min

Last week's goal: Write for a minimum of 60min on Tues/Wed/Thurs/Fri/Sun Didn't quite get this one this week. :( Found myself sorta piking out early on the majority of these days rather than pushing to write for the full allotted time. Goal for this week: Stick to my schedule! (aka get to "Scene 11" by the end of the week)

Summary

I am moving my deadline for completion to October 31st. This is still gonna push me, but I genuinely think it is achievable if I really elevate writing as a priority. Which is definitely something I want to do! But there is basically no way I'm going to make the 16th, so for my own good, new deadline it is. ^_^ (I also do have a much easier and far more rigid deadline, which I'm keeping in the back of my head for now. ;))

Aside from all that, I would really like to push to get to the full amount of time I've allotted while writing at least twice this week. I did find myself getting a little annoyed at my own (perceived!) lack of productivity throughout the week -- which is a little hilarious in hindsight, given that I wrote only 5k less than last week in almost four hours less. 😅 It was a challenge adjusting to working both jobs and just kinda finding the time, but upon reflection I'm overall pretty happy with how the week went!

I did have the idea of being a little more flexible with writing chronologically, because quite a few of my sessions were taken up with a single scene this week; one that I really struggled to get through, I think cuz it wasn't tickling me quite as much as some of the others. So there's potential for keeping those 'less inspired' scenes for days when I have more time, and smashing out the 'easier' scenes when I have shorter writing periods. Certainly something I'll be mulling over.

Somewhat related to that, my brainstorming at work/while walking to work/in those 'downtime' periods is going really well! It's basically what I used to do when I was required to drive a lot for Reasons -- sketch out the whole idea of the scene in my head before I wrote it down. (This is how I wrote (and finished) The Monstrosity, incidentally.) So I'm definitely going to be consciously and intentionally keeping up with that. It also allows me to feel productive on days when I literally don't have an hour to dedicate to Proper Writing Time.

Finally, I am finding myself thinking of editing in the back of my brain. 🤔 Ideas for trimming bits, deleting whole scenes, that sort of thing. I'm undecided on whether this is a good thing or a bad thing at this point. 😅 Mostly I'm doing the same thing I've been doing with UMI; collating all these thoughts into a separate document to reassess once ATN's draft is complete. However, there is one huge and notable exception to this -- the current and immediate 'deletion' of a set of characters I love. 😭 This is because I am hyperaware of the length of this damned story, and the fact that cuts are going to be necessary. That alongside my internal questioning of the function they serve and the fact that they don't actually experience any growth or arcs or anything similar means they have to go. :( *whispers* from the first book

Overall -- and funnily enough -- all throughout this week the entire thing felt rotten, but looking back I'm generally pretty pleased with how it went. ^_^ So another point towards keeping up with these weekly updates I guess! 😂 Good way to more objectively look over what I've achieved and how the week as a whole actually went. :D

As far as reading... still reading: The Insides by Jeremy P. Bushnell Reading has definitely fallen by the wayside this past week, with everything else going on. However, I would like to remedy this the coming week, so probably will try to set aside a chunk of time dedicated to reading. ^_^

#weekly update #WIP: ATN #original writing #writeblr #thinking i'm going to have to choose a different day to put up excerpts #because doing them alongside these doesn't seem to be working #HOWEVER #i will attempt to maybe get one up on tuesday #when i am ALSO planning to finally respond to some stuff #so fingers crossed that works #:D

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inthememetime · 3 years

Text

Thank you for the tag @ragsweas !!💖

How many works do you have on AO3?

23! I need to write more- I like even numbers!

What’s your total AO3 word count?

161,347. It feels like more, but that's probably from all the drafts I've scrapped lol.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Primarily LOTR, some Hobbit. One Harry Potter drabble that I did for a friend. If we include the Forbidden Account (i.e. I'm not proud of literally anything I wrote on fanfiction.net), DNAngel, Hellsing (the anime), Transformers, and Labyrinth. I've also got an MCU fic in the works, but I'm not going to start working on it until I finish Cold Waters and Colder Elves or The Adventures of Kíli and the Crew of the Seventh Star.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Midsummer Night's Dance (120)

The Tale of Lady Glorfindel and Lord Erestor (101)

A-Z Lord of the Rings (85)

Courting Mishaps (82)

Archer's Notes (81)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Absolutely! I love interacting with readers, and a lot of the time, my readers give me great ideas! Positive feedback- even if it's something short or a AHDKSHDIAJAKDL helps me keep going.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Archer's Notes is technically a series, but the entire series minus a few joking moments is very grim. I think it feels hopeless, which fits because I was struggling with an addiction and an abusive relationship at the time. I had to put it on hold while I sorted myself out, at around the same time I put Cold Waters & Colder Elves. Archer's Notes is permanently on hiatus because I honestly don't believe it's good for my mental state, but I am continuing CW&CE, because it's all about climbing out of a hopeless pit, fighting despair, creating new bonds of friendship. Although it is in a darker place atm.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Yes! The MCU one I have in the works is a crossover between MCU, Powerless, Netflix Defenders, and believe it or not, The Great British Baking Show.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes, mainly on my fanfiction.net account. I was pretty bad/cringe back then, but I don't think it deserved hate, just constructive criticism. Basically I was called a moron and told I should kill myself. Obviously, I did not do that. However, I did delete several fics and abandoned the account.

Do you write smut?

Yeah, like twice. Both times I was specifically requested to, and felt very uncomfortable.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, but I have had an OC stolen before.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sort of? It was basically a long RP with friends that we wrote down. It never got posted though. And the notebook ended up with another friend who moved out of state.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I guess Glorestor followed very closely by Bagginshield.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

There's a WIP I haven't put on AO3 I'm calling Nightmares for lack of a better title, and it's technically a Hobbit AU, but it's all worldbuilding and no story lol.

What are your writing strengths?

I would say describing scenery and characters. I've been told I'm good at painting a picture of what places look like and making characters feel real.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Beyond actually getting the words on the page? I'm bad at writing any kind of smut, and I am terrible at run in sentences. I always have to go back and fix them.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it can be very fun if done well! For my part, I tend to err on using one or two words here and there rather than full dialogue because I feel it can easily go wrong and potentially be offensive.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I have 2 different favorite completed fics that are my favorites for completely different reasons.

Snakes and Blueberry Pie is a Glorestor fic that was just fun and cute, and I had a lot of fun writing it.

The Wendigo is technically a Glorestor fic with very little romance. It's primarily a horror with a little action in it, and I enjoyed writing it a lot. In fact, I have a sequel in the works I hope to finish one of these days.

No pressure tags for: @midearthwritings @guardianofrivendell @returnsandreturns

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ughseoks · 5 years

Text

the story of us | ksj

— pairing; seokjin x reader

— genre; angst, slight fluff in beginning & end

— word count; 1.6k

— warnings; angst, small fight, two stubborn dummies refusing to communicate properly

— summary; you thought that the story of you and jin was one that had a fairytale ending, but a miscommunication leaves you scrambling to ensure it doesn’t end in tragedy instead.

「based on “the story of us” by taylor swift」

— masterlist —

From the moment you met, you hoped that one day, you’d be able to tell your kids the story of you and Jin. You’d be able to recount how his cheeks tinted pink when your gazes locked, sparks flying instantly; how you crossed the room to talk to the mystery boy with broad shoulders, and a feeling of right tugged deep in your gut.

Your relationship blossomed from the first hello, and before you knew it, you and Jin were attached at the hip. Friends and family would always tell you that the two of you were “the lucky ones,” and you couldn’t deny it. How you’d managed to find Jin amongst the sea of people at your university still left you clueless, but one thing was for sure: you had no intention of ever letting him go.

It’s funny how in just one week, everything can change.

Glancing at your phone, you pushed open the door to the library. Your first instinct was to search the room for the tall, elegant creature that was Jin— but you stopped yourself short. Just a week prior, everyone knew that your place was the spot next to him, but now, you were searching the room for an empty seat. The large building was filled to the brim with students studying, sleeping, and frantically completing almost-due assignments. Casting your gaze to the floor, you plopped down at the nearest vacant table, pulling out your laptop to continue writing your literary analysis.

After a few minutes of staring at the halfway-completed document, you sighed in frustration, running a hand through your tousled hair. Normally, you were a quick writer, the words flowing from your fingertips with ease; but now, you couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

As much as you hated to admit it, the source of your distraction was Jin. The argument that the two of you had three nights prior was the only thing you could focus on, and it was affecting both your work and school life way more than you’d like to admit. Resting your chin on the palm of your hand, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the memories begging for your attention.

“Lately, I don’t even know what page you’re on!” you yelled, throwing up your hands in frustration, “It’s like you aren’t even you anymore. What happened?”

Recently, you’d felt like something new had formed between you. Something more than being just friends. But, clearly, you were wrong. Jin had grown distant from you; he was staying out into the late hours of the night, ignoring your texts and calls, and showing up to school with the darkest under eye bags you’d ever seen. You didn’t know if it was because he sensed a change in your feelings for him or some other underlying issue, but what hurt you the most was that he was choosing to distance himself rather than confide in you.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jin retorted, desperation and panic seeping into his tone, “I’m still the same Jin you’ve always known. Nothing has changed!”

“You know that’s a lie,” you growled, pointing an accusing finger at him, “I can tell when you’re lying. Just tell me what’s going on!”

He clenched his jaw, averting his gaze from your fiery eyes.

“Is…” your voice dropped to a soft tone, emotion causing it to shake slightly, “Is it because of me?”

“What do you mean?” he replied, still not looking at you.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t noticed it,” your voice had developed a bitter undertone to it; after all, you couldn’t believe he was denying what had been happening between the two of you. “You and I… I see us as being… more than just friends. Do you not feel the same way? Is that why you’ve been distant?”

Jin’s eyes blew wide open in shock, but it was only a moment before his face turned stone cold and the answer that you’d been dreading floated past his lips with an insulting level of ease.

“Yeah, it is.”

Miscommunication leads to fallouts. You and Jin were both well aware of that. But some invisible wall kept the two of you divided, and no matter how many things you wished he knew, the wall you’d erected seemed to grow taller and thicker each day. It stood tall and proud, guarding your already fragile heart from being dealt the final blow that would inevitably shatter it into a million, glittering Jin-shaped pieces.

Letting out a groan, you slammed your laptop shut, sliding it into your bag and storming out of the library. Clearly, you weren’t going to get any work done.

How did you and Jin end up this way?

It was three weeks later when you found yourself in the middle of a party, nervously pulling at your sweatshirt and trying to look busy. Scanning the room anxiously, your gaze unexpectedly locked with Jin’s. His eyes widened in shock before he spun on his heel, leaving you behind him without so much as a peep.

That was the first time you’d seen him in person since the argument. You hadn’t expected him to act like nothing had happened— after all, you weren’t sure you wanted to pretend like you were suddenly best friends again, either— but you didn’t expect him to flat out ignore you. Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you tried to find a familiar face amongst the crowd, pushing back the thought of Jin doing his very best to avoid you.

Once upon a time, you thought you’d tell the story of how you almost lost your mind when you saw Jin for the first time; how he walked you home that night to make sure you’d make it home safe and sound because you were “too nice to die at the hands of a creepy old man on the street at 11pm.”

But now, he held his pride like he should’ve held you.

God, you were scared to see the ending of this story. Why were you both pretending like this was nothing? It was getting to be too much for your body and mind to handle, and judging by the dark circles you’d spotted under Jin’s eyes, he wasn’t faring much better than you.

Words couldn’t describe just how badly you wanted to run into his arms and tell him how much you missed him. But you had no idea how to.

Pulling out your phone, you drafted message after message, only to delete each of them a few seconds after typing them. The last messages sent between you were from two weeks ago, and the last time you’d actually talked in person had been almost three.

Yet you’d still check your phone at least once every hour, hoping to see a notification from him, just to be let down by a blank screen.

Huffing, you slipped your phone into your pocket and ran a hand through your hair, frustration and confusion coursing through your veins as you stood alone in the crowded room. Sure, you’d had arguments with Jin before, but you swore you’d never heard silence quite this loud. Inside, you were dying to know if it was killing him like it was killing you, but you didn’t know what to say or ask to get past this roadblock.

This terrible twist of fate had shattered everything, and the once fairytale-like story of you and Jin was starting to look a lot more like a tragedy now.

In an emotionally fueled rampage, you suddenly yanked your phone back out of your pocket. Your fingers slammed into the keyboard over and over again, not giving yourself enough time to think twice about what you’d typed out until after you hit send.

You: hey. can we talk?

You were sick and tired of competing for the title of who could act like they cared less… you just wanted Jin back. Although you might be stubborn, you liked it better when the two of you were on the same side, and you were more than willing to lay your armor down if he would admit that he’d rather love than fight.

Sighing, you turned your screen off once more, sliding your phone into your pocket. The battle was in his hands now, so there was no point in letting this ruin the rest of your night.

Jin’s heart was beating a million times a minute as he stared at his phone screen, reading the text message from you over and over again. All he had to do was reply to the four simple words, but for some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to respond.

The question really only required a one-word response, so why was this so hard? Was he scared of the conversation that would inevitably follow? The chance of having his heart broken? Or was he, deep down, still trying to pretend like nothing was really wrong?

There were thousands of thoughts racing through Jin’s mind as he continued to stare at the screen, wishing there was a way to express what he was feeling. He had so many things to tell you, but he didn’t know how, and he was sure that if he stared for even a second longer he might shut down.

“Everything okay, dude?” Hoseok put a hand on Jin’s shoulder, throwing his friend a concerned glance, “You seem a little out of it.”

“Y-Yeah,” Jin locked his phone after sending a quick reply, sliding it into his pocket with only a moment’s hesitation, “I’m good.”

Jinnie: sure. let’s call later tonight.

a/n; this is a day early bc i love jin & i’m high on that mots:7 juice right now. sorry for the angst & messy writing. but i wrote this in like an hour with no editing and hey, at least there’s implied fluff at the end, right??

— masterlist —

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theastrophilearchitect · 4 years

Text

I started writing a book.

And I’m mad about it, because I just started this post, brought up a new tab and lost it because I didn’t save my draft.

Anyway. That’s a thing I did. Wow.

As of this moment, this post won’t be going up until April 19th, but I’m starting writing this at 10.30pm on Sunday, February 21st, 2021. I’ve done a lot in the last couple weeks, and I want to have some record of all I’ve accomplished without just letting most of it fade over the next two months.

I’ve always wanted to be an author. From when I was reading under my covers with a torch past bedtime, through the years I wanted to be an artist, through the years I wanted to be a lawyer. It’s always been there - no matter what primary career path I went down, I wanted to be an author. The last few years, I’ve been invested in becoming a biologist, and that dream really took a backseat.

In the start of this lockdown, my mental health went downhill, and some advice my therapist gave me was just to prioritise myself. It sounds simple enough, but, even in my free time, I’d been focusing on schoolwork - revising constantly for exams I’m still not sure are actually happening. (Boris Johnson is apparently making an announcement tomorrow about beginning to ease lockdown, but we’ll see) So, on Saturday, February 6th, I started an attempt to coalesce the ideas I had floating in my head into something tangible.

I’ve tried to write books countless times (not technically countless - I have all the documents on my laptop, so I could if I wanted to), but mostly, I’ve never gotten further than a couple bare plot points and some characters, maybe some ideas for subplots, before I’ve stagnated and given up.

Three times, I’ve finished a skeletal outline. Twice, I’ve started to go back over those outlines only to realise they made no sense or just seemed week, and simply not cared enough to fix it. Until now, I guess.

February 6th, 7th, and fast-forward to my week off beginning the 15th, up until the 19th, I kept developing this concept I’d managed to form, but I was struggling to establish a coherent plot. I had up until and including a midpoint (which was later condensed into just a first act), but everything after that was just a void. I began searching for some skeletal structure I could apply to it, both to work on pacing and fill in the blanks. I tried several, and got a little further, but was about to give up hope.

Then I remembered a video by Katytastic I’d watched years ago about the 3-act, 9-block, 27-chapter structure she used, and couldn’t see the harm in giving it a go. And something clicked.

You can find the video here - the structure’s detailed and easy to follow, plus she even gives an example of using it to generate a plot.

I started binge-watching her writing vlogs in the background, and even started using her same writing program, Scrivener, which just made every a thousand times easier by taking away the need to juggle a billion Word documents. It’s fairly pricey, but I’m currently using the 30-day free trial - it’s 30 days of use, not of ownership, too: if you use it every day, it lasts 30 days, but if you use it once a week, it lasts 30 weeks.

Where Kat used the 27 parts the structure broke down into as chapters, I chose to refer to them as beats, and separate chapters later.

On Saturday the 20th, I finished defining my scenes and started writing an actual draft. I wrote two scenes, putting me at a collective word count (not including notes, synopses, etc.) of 2,580 words.

This morning, Sunday the 21st, I started over. I hated my opening. I’m not going to go through the mess of today’s process, but I currently have around 80 one-line-outline scenes, split into 3 acts. I wrote a draft of my prologue and detailed-outlined (which I’m mentally referring to as zero-outlining because it’s similar to how Katytastic does what she calls a zero draft, but is very much outlining, not a draft) two and a half other chapters. Scriver also tells me how many words I wrote in total, across notes, character profiles, location lists, a document I’ve named ‘Train of Thought’ for my ramblings as I go etc.

Today, I wrote a grand total of 4,141 words, which, rather counterintuitively, puts me at a draft total of 2,598. That makes sense. Anyway.

There are a lot of unknowns in the world right now, and I have no idea how much time I’ll have in the next six months to invest in this project, but I’d like, at bare minimum, to have one complete draft by the start of the next school year in September, which gives me just over 6 months. Which is probably too much time to actually motivate myself, but that’s not the point.

A manuscript needs to have a minimum word count of 50K words to be considered a novel, so, even though my ultimate goal for this project is around 80K words, 50K is going to be my goal for this draft.

I’m being optimistic about sticking with this.

Tuesday 23/02/2021 - Word Count: 3,099 I wrote nothing yesterday; planning to focus writing solely on days off rather than work days, but last night, watching through the incredibly long queue of Alexa Donne writing videos, I came to the conclusion writing every day, even just a little, would be the best way to ensure I keep working on this, so I set myself a goal of just 500 words a day.

Wednesday 24/02/2021 - Word Count: 5,350 After doing a little bit of maths as to how long this outlining and draft would take me if I were to only write 500 words a day, I decided to boost that goal to 1,000. I got started around 1pm today, online school draining me so much I couldn’t face another two hours. I worked on and off until 6pm, and around 4.45pm, I finished outlining Act One!

Thursday 25/02/2021 - Word Count: 7,022 I continued my scene outlining into Act Two, but I hit a brick wall around the midpoint. I have to write chronologically - some people jump around, but I have to write linearly, or it feels like I’m trying to make something in a void. It just doesn’t work. I didn’t know how to get from one scene to the next - there were so many things I needed to establish to get there, but I didn’t want to backtrack. I decided to re-jig the whole thing, but, after dinner, I realised I didn’t have to, and instead, decided to just start a draft, conscious of the things I need to establish as I go.

Friday 26/02/2021 - Word Count: 8,208 Starting draft one, I rewrote the prologue I’d already written, technically putting me to my second draft of it, because I’d been thinking about it for days and just wanted to revisit it, and it was so much better. Then I moved on to chapter one, but decided I wanted to re-jig my chapters. While outlining, I’d split the whole book into only about twenty chapters, but decided to go for shorter ones for more effective divisions of the story. I got most of the way through the first scene of chapter one, but basically ran out of both time and motivation, since I hadn’t heavily outlined that scene. in total, I wrote over 2000 words today, but because I only increased the prologue word count by about 100 words, it didn’t do that much to the total count.

Saturday 27/02/2021 - Word Count: 11,050 I got some chores done Saturday morning and focused on finishing my book so I could include it in my February wrap-up, but I still had time to get some writing done around mid-day. My goal was just to hit 10K this weekend, but I though I could do it in one day. I wrote about 1,000 words before feeling a little word-drained, but took a break for lunch, got back to it and wrote 2,400 words. Though that only added a little over 2,000 to the word count, it took me to 10K! I’m 20% of the way to being able to call it a novel! We’re in quintuple digits!

And then eight hours later, I wrote another thousand words and got to 11K.

Sunday 28/02/2021 - Word Count: 13,722 I spent most of my Sunday morning writing, though it took me more than two hours to write about 1500 words, though it only added about 1100 to my count. I decided to set myself an overall and weekly deadlines to hold myself accountable. Due to the fact I don’t yet have a clue how many words this will work out as, I decided I wanted to have either a complete first draft or 100K words (which I doubt I’ll reach, but it seems like a good way to make myself finish the draft before my deadline) by the end of April. Which works out to a little under 1500 words a day, or just under 11K a week, which is perfectly doable. Bearing in mind my current word count is including outlines, but I still believe in myself.

I wrote another 1600 words later, which took me to 14K, until I deleted the 300 word outline I wrote for one scene, but I worked out my words per day for the next two months with the assumption of a 10K word count as of March 1st and a target of either a complete draft or 100K words by the end of April, so I’m nearly 4,000 words ahead of schedule. Which gives me 6,606 words to write this week, instead of 10,328. (If you couldn’t tell, I like numbers. They just make sense to me.

Monday 01/03/2021 - Word Count: 15,005 I didn’t quite hit my daily goal, but I was completely leached of motivation today, I’m ahead of schedule anyway and I was only under by less than 200 words. It’s alright. But, hey, we hit 15K! Two days after hitting 10K!

Tuesday 02/03/2021 - Word Count: 21,119 This was an insane writing day. My end-of-day target was only 16,480, and that was still ahead of schedule - if I was sticking to the 100K by April 30th, I’d only actually need to be at 12,950 today. This was the best writing day I’ve ever had. I wrote before school and during breaks, which kept both my writing and working momentum up.

I didn’t read a page of my current read, but I wrote a total of 7,681 words and increased my wordcount by 6,114 words, or literally an additional 40.75%. I hit 20K three days after hitting 10K, and am 42.238% of the way to being able to say I wrote a novel, be it a shitty first draft that won’t be complete at 50K words.

I also finished chapter three, which I’ve been working on for three days and came out ~5,000 words, and wrote chapters four and five in their entirety.

Note to self: this is day 10 of vaguely outline-drafting this project.

Wednesday 03/03/2021 - Word Count: 23,364 I've only written 490 words today, as of writing this update, but I just wanted to make note of the fact I've done some calculations, and can reasonably finish my draft this month. I'm still not completely sure how long it'll work out to be, so I can't quite work out my daily words to finish on the 31st, but if I stick to my current 1,475 words a day, I'll hit 63,894 words by the end of the month, which is a little less than I imagine this draft will be, but if I stick to that as a minimum, my first draft won't have to go into April.

I'd like to post this later this week, but I already have a post for this Friday, so God only knows how long this will be by the time it goes up. So far, I've written 1,900 words today, and I don't think I'm out of fuel yet, but I'm stopping because I need to read today, and I'd rather not burn out. I'm over my goal, anyway.

Oh, also, I'm nearly at 25K, which is halfway to a novel, but I haven't broken into Act Two yet, which means this book will be 75K minimum. I'm going to do some maths and work out how many words a day to hit 80K by March 31st. 2,030. That's doable. So I haven't read, but back to writing for like ten minutes.

I've now hit an additional 2,245 words for the day, though I wrote a total of 2,663

Thursday 04/03/2021 - Word Count: 25,415 I've decided to work out how many words I need to write each day to hit 80K by March 31st, and watch the fluctuations. (I like statistics). It should steadily go down throughout the month if I surpass it each day. Today's minimum word count is 2,023, already seven words less than yesterday's. How exciting.

The last scene of Act One was very heavy on world-building I haven't yet figured out, so I stuck what was meant to happen in brackets and just moved on, meaning I have now broken into Act Two!

I think, during the week, I'm going to focus on just meeting my minimum word count rather than exceeding it, just to save fuel for the weekends, when I can write so many more words.

And, we hit 25K! I'm halfway to a novel!

Friday 05/03/2021 - Word Count: 26,693 In complete honesty, I'm beginning to lose momentum. Maybe it's just today, but I don't really want to write and feel like I need a break, but I'm going to make myself write anyway. I'm going to make myself keep writing until this draft is done, however shitty it may end up. I really hate first drafts.

When you say 2,000 words is only 7-8 pages, it doesn't sound like that much to write per day but my god. Luckily, most of the stuff I've had to save to a Pinterest board called 'Writing Motivation' says if you write when you don't want to, it should pass instead of worsening. I wanted to hit 35K this weekend, but I'm not sure I'll have the momentum. I'll at least hit 31,270, though, which is my minimum goal for this week. I'm still over 700 words off my goal for today, but I'm taking a break because my head is foggy and there's still eight hours left in the day. Besides, 700 after dinner is easy. She says, realising she's probably jinxing it. Oh, well. 80K by March 31st would be difficult, even if I weren't going back to school soon, but that's a stretch goal. 100K by April 31st is my minimum, and I'm 9,000 ahead of where I need to be for that.

I think I’m stagnating because I’ve hit the ‘Fun and Games’ section, which I find really boring. I’m going to try to keep going with it, but I may just skip it and come back later.

Saturday 06/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,150 So, I did not get the extra 700 words in. Before dinner, some stuff I had to deal with came up, and by the time it was done, I just wanted to go to bed, so I did. Today, I'm going to try to make up for it, which I think is reasonable because it is now the weekend. I'm still kinda exhausted this morning, but I'm going to do my best, and my wrist hurts, but I'm not sure why. You'd think it would be from all the typing, but only one wrist hurts - you know what? Never mind. They do both hurt. I'm just not sure why, but it doesn't hurt typing this, so that doesn't make any sense. Anyway, to hit my word count for the day, I need to write 2,555 words, which doesn't sound like too much, but it kinda is because I'm primarily writing Act Two at the minute, and for every thousand words I write, I lose like 400 from my outline. You'd think I'd just not include my scene outlines in the word count, but it's too late for that now.

I'm thinking this over, and I really don't think trying to write 80K by the end of the month is going to be good for either my motivation, mental health, or ability to function back at school, so I'm going to stick to 100K or a finished draft by April 30th, and re-work out my goals from there, based on yesterday's word count, so I'm not making myself do catch-up today.

So, to hit 100K by April 30th, I only need to write 1,309 words each day (which will decrease over time because if that's my minimum now, I'll probably surpass it, decreasing the amount of words left etc.). That's so much less pressure.

God, I really don't want to write today. I just want to watch YouTube and Netflix and read.

Okay, so here's the thing. I've been working on this story straight for three weeks and I'm kinda exhausted of it. I'm not done with it, not at all, and I want to keep working on it because it exists, which makes it workable.

I watched a writing vlog by ShaelinWrites yesterday, and she said she writes different projects at once, alternating in week- or multi-week-long blocks. I think I might try that.

My plan with this post and the following updates was to keep updating it until the day it goes up, the day after which is when I begin drafting the next, but, since I may be switching projects for a while and this is really about the project I've decided to dub 'Bay Tree' (which is just, I guess, a pseudonym for here because while I have no idea what it would eventually be called, I know that's nothing like the title I'd want to give it) so I'd want to start a new post for a new project.

I'm now doing a little outlining instead of actually continuing writing, but I think this will help me, though I'm still not certain about whether or not I'm going to directly continue with this specific project for the minute. Instead of setting daily goals based on a target, I'm also just going to say 1,000 words a day, and see where that takes me.

I've just been outlining into Act Three, and I've met a major plot stumble, but I'm going to work that out and explain what I'm doing in my next writing update.

So, go drink some water, eat if you haven't eaten in the last few hours, stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself how wonderful you are and how much happiness you deserve, and, if you want to write a book, stop thinking about it, and go write.

#blog #blogging #blogger #blogpost #blog post #writing #books #book #reading #read #write #writer #author #draft #first draft #story #writing blog #writerblr #bookblr #novel #debut

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