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kitsuani · 4 months ago

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Psychic. {Yumeno Gentaro x Reader}

Description:

A fic in which reader is tortured by Dice not paying his bill and has the pleasure of meeting (the great psychic) Gentaro.

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Tags: fluff, dice being...well...dice, reader is just tired of their job and wants to go HOME, not beta'd, not edited, dice is mentioned but this is indeed gentaro x reader i promise, gender neutral reader, gentaro yumeno x reader, hypnosis mic/hypmic, gentaro yumeno

Word Count: 1,646

A/N: Written on: July 19, 2021

Gentaro is probably the only character ive been TERRIFIED of my portrayal because analyzing and writing his personality is a bit hard but I got the stamp of approval from the biggest gentaro simp I know (if you see this thank you mari ilysm) so here is this

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“Alright look, what if you put my name down for a tab--”

“Sir, this is a café, not a bar. 3000 yen.”

“That’s an insane price!”

“That’s low in comparison; have you seen how much you’ve eaten?”

“You’re real rude for working in a café!” Dice crossed his arms and turned his nose up, dramatically pouting to put on a show. “I should report you to the manager--”

“It is the end of my shift, and I am the manager. Sir. 3000 yen, please.”

(Y/n) stood behind the register, tired and deadpan expression on their face. They were used to people yelling at them day in and day out, people unsatisfied or rude or just plain... wacky, like this one. Part of them felt bad, of course, watching this guy wolf down all this food as if he hadn’t eaten in a while—they would’ve just paid for him if they could’ve, but the bottom line was that they couldn’t, so he needed to cough up the dough.

He sighed with his entire body, hunching over and drooping his shoulders to accentuate that he looked as though he suddenly aged 40 years. Meekly, he raised his hand to signify that he needed a moment, whipped out his phone, and turned around. (Y/n) felt a little bad for whoever was on the other end of this blue-haired boy’s phone—they caught a few words like ‘yes again’ and ‘please get me out of this!’--it was apparent it wasn’t the first time he’d been unable to pay. This time, they suddenly aged 40 years at the realization that the poor person on the other line had to deal with this nonsense more than once. They were the shell of a person whenever he hung up and turned back around.

“Are ya sure I can’t do anything--”

“You can pay--”

“What if I... I show you a magic trick!”

“No.”

“I give you my watch.”

“You aren’t wearing a watch, sir.”

Exasperated, (Y/n) stood and denied each offer he gave; a game that tossed the two of them back and forth for what seemed like forever. (Y/n) was lucky there were no other customers present. This blue-haired boy was relentless, however, and tried offering everything he could no matter how off-the-wall it was of an offer; (Y/n) wondered if he were a gambler, and that’s what led him to this fate. They remained professional, however, stayed as close to the line as possible. Part of them just wanted to kick him out. Just as he’s listing off a few of his skills, (Y/n) instinctively called out a welcome as the door to the café chimed.

“Ah, Dice, you are still here.”

The blue-haired boy—Dice was his name, apparently—turned towards a gentle looking, brown-haired man who donned what (Y/n) thought to be some of the most beautiful traditional clothes. It took a moment for them to recognize those striking green eyes; they’ve seen him in here from time to time, writing away—they tried to go out of their way not to bother him whenever he was around. But now, he looked straight at them with those eyes that held far too much mystery and gave them an equally as gentle smile.

“Good morning.”

“Dude, it’s evening.”

“No? Can’t you see that the sun is rising to the East?”

“It’s going behind the buildings!”

They bickered a bit while (Y/n) stood there dumbfounded at how adamant the man in the traditional clothing was that it was morning; they bit their lip and turned away, trying to keep a laugh to themselves so that they didn’t ruin the little game the man had set up. It was short-lived however, as Dice pointed towards them and turned the attention back to the problem at hand.

“Whatever! You!” (Y/n) felt their eyebrow twitch at the suddenness of the action. “What if I absolutely blow your mind--”

“It’s just 3000 yen, sir--”

“You see, my friend here is a psychic. You probably could’ve noticed by the annoying way he talks...”

Dice continued pitching his plea, ignoring (Y/n) as they had given up trying to remind him of his fee at this point. He wrapped an arm around his friend and continuously shook the poor man, the brunette swaying from side to side like a ghostly apparition, dramatically allowing himself to be tossed around. He would pat the man on the back so hard, (Y/n) thought maybe he’d fold over like a piece of paper; based on the way the brunette hyped up theatrics, (Y/n) could tell that he was simply playing his friend for a fool. They wondered, was it an apology show for them, or was he always like this with his friend? The corners of (Y/n) lips started to twitch as they desperately tried to keep their expression neutral.

“Go on, show them something... psychic.”

“Ah, yes. I can see it now. You will certainly find yourself at ease later this morning,” (Y/n) almost broke their character as he held his morning charade, “I can see... nothing but darkness. A pleasant weight upon you... your body relaxed and--”

“You’re just telling them that they’ll sleep tonight!” Dice shouted, shaking the other man once more. “Wow them! Blow their mind! Get me out of this mess!”

“I see... oh, I can see it! It’s coming to me now, I can see... I can see...”

“Yeah, yeah?”

“I can see that you’re going to find yourself in this mess again.”

“Stop focusing on me!”

They bickered once again, mostly on Dice’s part. (Y/n) covered their mouth and continued to turn away, snickering to themselves as the brunette took notice. With a gentle smile, he held out his hand to them, speaking in a way that seemed almost haunting but was obviously strained to seem mystical.

“I can see clearly. 3... 7... 4... these numbers mean a lot to you, yet, they’ll be your ultimate downfall.”

“Oh?” (Y/n) asked, now giving him their seemingly signature unamused attention. “Care to elaborate?”

“Why, they’re numbers that will lead to unfortunate events and you’ll find your entire world crashing around you.”

“Uh... huh. Anything specific?”

“You’ll ultimately be led... to your DEATH.”

“See! What did I tell you, a real class-a psychic!” Dice stepped in front of his friend who was still theatrically waving his hands at (Y/n) to put punctuation on his warning.

“Sir, excuse me for not believing your... psychic... friend here, but it’s still 3000 yen. Impending death or not, I’d just like to get off of my shift.”

Defeated, both of the men hunched their shoulders; Dice whined. His friend moved closer to (Y/n)’s podium and pulled his wallet out, begrudgingly paying the debt as Dice simply dragged his feet out the door. Just as monotone as the man in front of them, (Y/n) thanked him for his patronage and mumbled out another word of thanks for his help; he perked up a bit as he picked up on the last part.

“Of course. I couldn’t have the likes of him desecrating a sacred place in which thou doth reside.”

“Mm, fancy.” It took (Y/n) a moment to process what he had said and stiffened up, their face growing a bit warm. “O-oh... you mean because you come here sometimes to write and I make sure people leave you alone, right?”

“I do appreciate thy own actions, but thine creativity flows much more fluidly whenever thou are around.”

(Y/n)’s face started to grow warmer as he smiled at them, eyes closing gently to accentuate the kindness behind his... peculiar words; once (Y/n) truly processed what he had said, they scratched the back of their neck and gave a small, nervous smile. What were they supposed to say to that in the first place? They started to get a bit more nervous as he made sure to lightly brush their hand in the exchange of money; their eyes grew wide whenever his smile turned into a smirk, his own emerald ones looking at them from beneath his lashes.

“By the way, I truly am a psychic,” he leaned in close and whispered, “the greatest psychic around—Gentaro the Psychic, if I may be so bold—and I’ll be hearing from you later this morning.”

Utter confusion painted on their face, he gave their hand a small pat before turning his back to them, making his way towards the door that Dice had come back in from.

“Ah, good morning, Dice.”

“We’ve already gone through this—nevermind. What took you so long?”

“Hm? Oh. The management was just telling me that you’re no longer welcome here. Ever. In fact, you’ll be escorted off of the premises. Next time you’re seen around here, you’ll be arrested.”

“What!” Dice screeched, watching Gentaro as he smiled and walked nonchalantly out of the door.

“T'was but a lie.” He waved his hand, both to dismiss Dice’s cry of agony and subtly wave to (Y/n) in the process.

After a long process of loud commotion, (Y/n) finally got to watch the pain in their side leave and felt instant relief followed by a long, heavy sigh. They locked the doors, started cleaning the café and finally went to count the cash register’s drawer before finally being able to go home and simply call it a day.

Bill after bill, (Y/n) made notes of the counts before stopping in their tracks; among everything was a piece of paper, holding a name and a phone number, and nervously shoved it into their pocket. Counting afterwards was an absolute nightmare as their mind continued to wander to green eyes, the flow of traditional clothes, and the way their heart fluttered each time they couldn’t help but laugh.

Outside of the café, they looked down at the newly placed number that lit up their phone screen. God dammit, he was a psychic.

#hypmic x reader #hypnosis mic x reader #gentaro yumeno x reader #yumeno gentaro x reader #kitsu.writes #kitsu.hypmic #kitsu.hypmic gentaro #hypmic #hypmic fanfic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic fanfic

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neuroticbookworm · 2 years ago

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Step by Step Episode 10, A Retrospective Analysis

I have been a staunch supporter of the writing in this show (here and here), even when the pacing and editing have felt a little stilted in places. I have always maintained that the show understands its characters and does an excellent job of connecting them to the audience via some brilliant writing. But episode 10 felt like it was from a completely different writing crew, and I was left feeling bereft and confused. I took some time to understand why, and I'm gonna share my observations in this post.

Disclaimer: I am actually okay with the place the plot is currently at. I think that it is logical that Jeng and Pat are having these problems from the outside world that are affecting their relationship. My friend and BL Ajahn @bengiyo pointed out in his rapid fire takes that Jeng is exhausted and just wants to ignore the shit that's happening around him and enjoy his time with Pat. @shortpplfedup echoes the same sentiment that JengPat are lost in each other and desperately ignoring the rest of the world. And I agree.

What I want to explore here is that while the episode did leave me at an agreeable point in the narrative, it left me there feeling incredibly unsatisfied (my bestie @lurkingshan talks about the lack of emotional catharsis here) and how very easy it would've been to course correct and preserve that audience-character connection.

The episode opens strong, with Chot telling Pat exactly why the way he is responding is hurtful to Jeng's feelings. "Saying that you don't believe him, it's like you were looking down on his feelings." Hits the nail right on the head. Pat then runs to Pearl & Oliver to meet Jeng on his birthday with *shudder* a carrot cake.

At the restaurant, Pat meets Jeng, and we hit the first snag. Pat asks Jeng if he still likes him, and when Jeng responds with a head nod, Pat breaks down. So Jeng makes his feelings clear one last time, and this makes Pat fire off question after question: "Why are you avoiding me?", "Why are you leaving the company?" and "Why can't I be the one who resigns?". Jeng takes a second to collect himself and answers "I'm not avoiding you" (a bald-faced lie, he is avoiding Pat because Pat told him to stay away), "I'm not leaving, I'm only changing positions" and "I started it, I should have to fix it myself".

I'm typing out this exchange word for word because it shows where Jeng and Pat are emotionally at the moment. Jeng has already made moves to make himself scarce around Pat, and seems to be on the path to moving on after Pat's rejection. He also feels responsible for this mess, he is aware of the pain and confusion Pat was processing before his confession, and he has now added to it. Pat is visibly distressed that he has made matters worse by not articulating his thoughts better.

And now Pat says "But I also like you" and leans into Jeng's shoulder, crying, and Jeng takes a moment, smiles, and says "Now we're together". And this is where the show starts to lose me. Jeng desperately wants to be with Pat and is still pining over him, yes, but he has also made concrete decisions to step away from this situation, which takes deliberating on the effect the events of episode 8 have had on both him and Pat, and concluding that the right and healthy thing to do for the both of them is for him to step away.

This is why I think Jeng would have uttered more than a "Now we're together" at that moment. He would've shown concern, or at the very least, he would've wanted to ask again, if Pat was sure. I hate an unnecessary "Are you sure?" moment that holds no weight as much as the next person, but here it would've made all the difference. Pat is sobbing, tears and snot running down his face, when he confesses to Jeng. Didn't the show go to painstaking lengths to show us the differences between Put and Jeng? I want to believe that the Jeng who was established for the last 9 episodes, even while nursing a broken heart, would've stopped and taken a moment to make sure that Pat is alright, he has thought this through, and this is not an impulse decision made on Jeng's birthday due to guilt.

An "Are you sure?" and a full body hug with both of them deep exhaling all their worries away for a moment, in each other's arms would've transformed the tone of this scene completely, and would've brought the characters in line with their established personalities, without compromising the direction the plot wants to take in the rest of this episode.

According to popular consensus here on Tumblr, Jeng's arc in this episode seemed to be one where he is overwhelmed by the complications his relationship with Pat will bring, and that makes him want to disassociate and only focus on Pat and his desire for him. I would've happily taken this read, if they had shown Jeng TRYING in the beginning and THEN rapidly failing. We know (by implication) that his previous relationship played a role in his leaving the company before. So we saw him make very careful strides in the past episodes, and crossing boundaries when his brain is overwhelmed by desire (re: sharing a bed, filming Pat when he's drunk, the speakeasy).

When Pat rejects him, his mind gets clouded. He had been so focused on doing it right this time, and it has still gone wrong, somehow. And when Pat tells him to stop pursuing him, he now has to focus his energy on making it right and keeping the workplace comfortable for Pat. And finally, when Pat comes to confess his feelings, Jeng is mentally exhausted from the back and forth, yes, but he has no reason to feel it yet. There are no eyes on them yet, no judgements that need to be navigated. He must be elated, to have Pat reciprocate his feelings. So when Pat asks him "So from now on. what are we?" and Jeng doesn't loudly proclaim FAEN, it fells ..off. He just had sex with the person who was living in his mind, rent-free for a whole year, on a kitchen counter surrounded by glass walls; he has no reason to feel melancholia yet.

If we had been gradually let into Jeng's mental state, shown how the fear of judgement from the others AND his logical but tired brain overworking to figure out how to make this work, how to circumvent his past mistakes and failings, were getting to him, the episode would've hit a completely devastating emotional beat. And we could've watched Pat's regression in parallel, struggling with his newfound emotional stability in the workplace, because he couldn't help but notice how Jeng was choosing to ignore problems rather than deal with them.

This gradual descent would've also explained Jeng's communication blackout with Pat. Had we gotten two scenes with them at the dinner table at home or a restaurant, one at the beginning of the relationship, with Jeng and Pat enjoying each other's company, and one near the end of the episode, with Jeng hazy and quiet? It would've sunk me to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

And I don't want the explanation that the new relationship haze is clouding their minds. I'm always on Team "Fuck Through Your Problems". Them going at it like rabbits was not the issue in this episode. The issue is that we did not get to see ANYTHING ELSE. We did not see the domesticity shine through when the relationship was new, and slowly tarnish as time passed. The message that queer relationships face undue pressure from society that may affect every couple, regardless of how well matched they are, could've been conveyed with such an amazing contrast, between PutPat and JengPat.

We could've screamed and squealed at the fluff and smut, at P'Jeng and Nong Pat, and weeped as the episode slowly tore our hearts open from our chests. We could've had it all, Tee Bundit. Instead, this is what you chose to give us.

tagging my besties @waitmyturtles, and @lurkingshan who are in the trenches with me and @wen-kexing-apologist who wrote the post that gave me a lone ray of sunshine in all the madness

#step by step #step by step the series #jengpat #step by step meta

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trilliumprince · 10 days ago

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hurtcember day 3 - blood

finally finished editing this :)

4,536 words

this is a continuation of this

cws: drugs/drugging, gags, alcohol mention, escape attempt, slight choking, blood/bloody nose, getting shot/punched, tight spaces, falling from a tree

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Seleien awoke many hours later. He felt as bad as he had when he had first woken up, if not worse from the hunger clawing at his stomach. He sat up, the blanket on top on him falling off. His wrists and ankles were still bound together with rope.

"Good to see you awake," A voice from behind him said.

He turned to look towards his captor. He looked back away as they smiled at him.

"Are you hungry? you haven't eaten in a while" They said.

"Yes, i am," Seleien replied softly.

Seleien could hear some rustling behind him, followed by some foot steps. The stranger came in front of him and crouched down in front of him with a piece of bread their hand. They gently pushed it into Seleien's mouth before reaching to undo the ropes on his wrists.

It took a minute or so to get the ropes off and the stranger stepped away from him. As soon as his wrists were freed, Seleien took his mittens off and took a proper bite out of the bread. It was a bit too stale to really be eaten on its own, better suited for a bread pudding or perhaps soaked in a warm stew to soften it, but he was far too hungry about to complain. And he wasn't exactly interested in anything that might risk upsetting his captor. At least not until he had the proper opportunity to try to escape.

The stranger brought him a cup full of water, which upon being sipped at didn't taste like it had anything added to it. Several minutes passed as Seleien ate and drank in silence before he looked towards his captor and began to speak.

"Where are you taking me?" He asked.

The stranger glanced at him from where they were sat, knitting away but didn't answer.

Seleien waited a few second for a response before trying again, his voice more firm this time, "Where are you taking me?"

They chuckled softly, "We are going to camp for the night in and hour or so and then we will continue on in the morning."

Seleien huffed, unsatisfied, "You said you were going to deliver me somewhere. Where are you delivering me to?"

They let out an exasperated sigh before going to crouch down in front of him, "Are you done eating yet?"

He glared at them, "Where are you delivering me?"

The stranger rolled their eyes and grabbed the empty cup and the last bit of crust that Seleien was still holding and tossed them to the side. They them began to pull something from their pockets.

"Hey!" Seleien cried out in protest, "Why cant you just answer my mmph-"

Seleien was cut off as the stranger shoved a piece of fabric into his mouth and used their hand to push his jaw up in attempt to keep him from removing it. Seleien squirmed and fought, trying to push them away. Unfortunately due to the drugs still in his system he was still far too weak to shove them away. They took a piece of rope and tied it around his head.

He continued to try to fight as the stranger forced his mittens back onto his hands. He squeaked in pain as they shoved his wrists onto the floor of the wagon and held them there. As they held Seleien's hands down, they reached to the previously discarded rope. He let out a muffled screak as they tied it tightly around his wrists.

The stranger carefully checked his bound wrists, making sure it wasn't too tight before standing up and going back to where they were sitting before. They settled themselves down with their knitting and started to make a few stitches before opening their mouth to speak.

"Sorry you didn't get to eat much. Once we are at the campsite you will get a proper meal," They said.

Seleien huffed before laying down, facing the end of the wagon. He shut his eyes and exhaled. The fabric in his mouth was making it so dry and unpleasant. But really the only thing he could do about it was wait in silence. He wasn't sure how long he waited until he eventually fell asleep.

---

Seleien was jolted awake when he felt two pairs of hands grab him by his upper arms and hoisted his upwards. He immediately began to squirm and thrash in a panic.

"Hey hey, you're okay," The voice of the stranger came from one of the two people that was holding him up, "Let me untie you so you can walk. Can i trust you not to try to run?"

Seleien stopped moving as he realized what was happening to him and nodded in response. The stranger briefly said something to the other person in a language Seleien didn't understand and the knelt down to undo the ropes on his ankles. He could feel the other one of his captor move one of their hands to his shoulder, holding him in place.

It took a few minutes of waiting for his ankles to finally be free. It was almost an odd feeling, not having the rope tied around them. He was grateful none the less. The stranger stood and started to undo the ones on his wrists too. As they untied it they said some more things in that same language Seleien didn't understand.

There was some back and forth between the two before the other person let go of him and walked away, a satisfying crunch of snow as they jumped out. The stranger put the rope from his wrists into their pocket. They then rested a hand onto his face and Seleien looked up from the spot on the ground he was fixated on to meet their eyes.

"I'm going to remove your gag now. Don't bother trying to scream for help, we're in the middle of nowhere. No one going to hear you and no one is going to help," They stated.

Seleien nodded in acknowledgment. The stranger untied the rope and then gently opened his jaw. They reached into his mouth just enough to grab the piece of fabric and pull it out. They tossed it and the rope to the side. Seleien flexed his wrists, ankles and jaw, careful not to move in such a way that would possibly imply any escape attempts.

The stranger then grabbed his upper arm and gently maneuvered him towards the end on the wagon. Seleien couldn't help but stumble. His ankles felt heavy after being tied up for hours. The stranger used their other hand to grab his other arm and keep him from falling.

"Thanks," Seleien muttered.

A few steps later they reached the end of the wagon. The other one of his captors was standing on the ground, looking at them with a slightly impatient look on their face. They then extended their hand towards Seleien. Seleien glanced between the two. He took their hand and then crouched down, trying to see how far he would have to jump down.

He pushed off, launching himself away from the wagon. He felt the other persons hand leave his own as he was propelled. He landed on his feet, but stumbled forwards immediately. He threw out his arms in attempt to brace his fall but despite his best efforts he still ended up landing on his elbows along with a face full of snow.

He could hear laughter erupt from behind him along with the sounds of someone dropping from the wagon to ground, followed by the doors of the wagon being shut. He heard some foot steps of a person coming to right beside him.

"Hey," a voice full of amusement said, and a hand rested on his shoulder, "Are you okay, Seleien?"

Seleien couldn't help but shiver at being called by his name. Something about his captors knowing it made the situation feel somehow worse. He pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"I'm fine," He muttered.

The stranger gave him a look that said Really? and then held out their hands, "Come on, lets get you to camp. The food should be done cooking soon."

Seleien took their hands and they pulled him to his feet. They them held his hand and led him towards the camp. It was maybe 10 meters or so away from where the wagons were with a few big tents surrounding a fire. He could see two cauldrons set up over the fire and a few people milling around them. Another 10 meters or so on the other side of the camp, another wagon was sat and to the right a few horses, oxen and some mules were tied to the branches of the trees. And the sky was clear, a myriad of stars filling it, only interrupted by the trees and smoke from the fire.

He was led a woolen mat with a folded blanket on it that was by the fire. The stranger pointed at it, "Here is where you can sit. Don't even think about trying to run off."

Seleien sat down and the stranger left him to converse with the other people. He took the blanket and threw it over his shoulders. He looked towards the people. There was maybe 8 or 9 of them. He sighed softly and looked towards the ground before closing his eyes. He was quite outnumbered. He could think of any way he would be able to try to run. Best to pretend to be more drugged than he really was and keep his head down for now. Either way he was hungry and was not about to try to run when he was about to get a meal.

It was several minutes before he was handed a bowl and a napkin with a few slices of stale bread tucked inside. He took it with a murmured thanks and looked inside the bowl. It was a thin soup with various root vegetables, onions, wheat berries and bits of salted venison. Upon being tasted it was rather bland, seemingly the only salt in it being from the venison.

Seleien watched his captors eat and drink warmed cider as he ate his own meal. Even though he couldn't understand what they were talking and laughing about he continued to listen, hoping he might be able to figure out where they were from. And maybe if they got drunk enough he could slip away unnoticed. He made brief eye contact with one of them and he quickly diverted his eyes back to his soup.

It took Seleien about a half hour to finish his food and he was now politely sipping on some of the cider he had been given along the way. He had also managed to stash some of the bread into his cowl. It wasn't exactly the most elegant of hiding spots but he was missing his pouch. And he wasn't sure if any of his captors had seen him hiding it even though none of them gave him any indication that they had.

He waited for several minutes later before he carefully stood and stepped a few feet away, stretching as he went. He watched the group as he began to step away. When no one seemed to notice him, he turned and ran to the wagon he had been transported it. He ducked behind it, his heart starting to pound. He took a peek back at the group and watched them for a few seconds.

Seleien smiled to himself and then started to jog away from the camp. He moved as quickly and as carefully as he could. He could still feel the after affects of whatever drugs he had been given earlier. He hoped that he would be able to find one of the many small hunting lodges nestled in the forest. They were often stocked with firewood and food. And they usually also had some sort of map or directions to the nearest settlements. If not then… well… he didn't really want to think of what would happen if he didn't. He couldn't bear the thought of his mother loosing all her family members yet again.

Several minutes of half running half walking later, he heard snow being crushed underfoot from somewhere behind him. Seleien froze and turned to look behind him. Something, or someone, was definitely behind him. He quickly moved to against a tree. His hands shook as he peeked out from behind it.

He silently hoped it was something like a deer. Or something else that would be easy to scare off. But it certainly didn't sound like the hooves of a deer crushing snow. In fact it sounded like a person.

It seemed like hours but in reality was only a few seconds before he eventually saw the person who was behind him. Seleien could feel dread fill his chest as he realized it was the same stranger he had first met in the wagon. They were holding a crossbow which was already loaded too.

A big smile grew on their face as they made eye contact with Seleien and he gasped and quickly straightened up against the tree.

"Seleien! There you are! Care to explain why you are so far from camp?" They asked as the approached the tree he was attempting to hide behind.

Seleien evaded them trying to grab at him as they came up beside them. The stranger quickly pointed their crossbow towards him. He froze mid step back, and slowly raised his arms.

The stranger stepped forwards, "I don't want a fight. Now, why don't you come back with me so I don't have to hurt you."

Seleien stayed where he was as they approached. He just had to take a deep breath, stay calm and see if he could get out of this situation. The stranger closed the distance between them. They reached towards him and as soon as their fingers started to brush against his mittens Seleien made his move.

He shoved them as hard as he could. As they fell he yanked their crossbow out of their hand. He turned and ran as fast as he could through the snow. He could hear the stranger shouting at him. He pointed the crossbow behind him and shot aimlessly.

At one point he stopped just long enough to throw it as far as he could. After running up a small hill he grabbed onto a low hanging branch and scrambled upwards. Standing on the branch, he reached out to one that was higher. He grabbed onto it and pulled himself onto it. He sat on the part that was thickest, leaning against the thick trunk. He shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself, hoping that the stranger wouldn't find him. The snow left tracks wherever he went and he didn't really have any options for hiding spot.

After a bit of waiting Seleien eventually heard the crunching of snow underfoot. He tucked his cowl tight against his face and covered his mouth with his hands. He listened intently as he heard the footsteps stop, wait and then start up again. They seemed to be circling the tree.

Please leave. Please leave, Seleien thought.

Eventually they stopped from what heard to be in front and to the right of him. After a few seconds of silence Seleien dared to take a peek. His eyes met with the strangers and then drifted towards their crossbow which was pointed towards him. He could feel a surge of regret throwing the crossbow away. Or at the least he should have tried to break it first.

"Come down here and let me take you back to camp without a struggle and i wont have to shoot you," The stranger said, dangerously calm.

Seleien met their eyes again before mustering up the courage to respond, "No."

He barely had the time to think to move before he heard the sounds of the crossbow being shot and the thunk of the bolt hitting the tree. Pain surged through the upper part of his right arm. He clutched at the wound, losing balance as he did so.

He tried to grab at the branch, but the rough bark slipped past his fingertips. He hit the ground hard, landing on his side and groaned, the snow not doing much to soften such a fall. He looked towards his hands, one of which was covered in the crimson of his blood. He put his hand back on his wound in an attempt to protect it.

The stranger was by his side in seconds. They yanked some hobbles from their pouch and secured them around his ankles. They pulled his hand away from his wound and pulled him into a sitting position. Seleien grumbled as they pulled at the tear in his clothes to look at his wound.

Seleien glared at them as they examined his wound. Once the stranger seemed to be satisfied they stood, pulling him up. They pushed him along.

The two walked on in silence, following their tracks back to camp. Blood dripped from Seleien's wound as he stumbled along. Whenever Seleien stopped, the stranger would press the front end of the crossbow into the small of his back.

Eventually the stranger sighed and grabbed his shoulder, "You're walking too slow."

They moved their hands to Seleien's waist and started to undo his belt. They then crouched down to unlatch one of the loops from one of him ankles. They closed the loop once it was off and then looped his belt through in and tied it together. Seleien looked towards the makeshift leash and then stared at them.

They gently pulled on the belt, "Come on we don't have all night."

Seleien looked away from them, folding his arms over his chest. He rolled his eyes as soon as his face was out of sight for the stranger.

"Will I have to drag you back?" They asked.

Seleien was silent, refusing to respond. After a few seconds he could feel the stranger seize his arm, their thumb directly in his gash, and yanked him along. He cried out as they pressed in hard. He clenched his free hand into a fist and swung it towards the stranger. They let go of him to dodge and quickly punched him back, square in his face.

Seleien stumbled back from the impact, blood splattering onto the snow. The stranger was on him in seconds, shoving him onto his stomach. They straddled his hips, facing towards his legs. Seleien squirmed and made a strangled sound, choking on the blood that slipped down his throat.

The stranger grabbed onto his ankles and redid the hobbles. They then turned to face his head. They grabbed his wrists, forced them behind his back and used his belt to tie his wrists together. They got off him and pulled him upwards into a sitting position. They tightly held onto the back of his collar.

Seleien coughed and coughed until his airway was free. Blood still dripped from his nose. They stranger waited until he was done before pulling him into a standing position. They then put an arm around his waist and hoisted him onto their shoulder. Selien couldn't do much other than watch his own blood drip, drip, drip onto the snow as he was carried back to the camp.

At one point his nose eventually stopped bleeding. And soon after they reached the camp. The stranger put him down on the mat that he had been sitting on earlier. He could hear the others whispering and giggling at him in that foreign language of theirs. He could hear the stranger speaking to the others as they held onto his braided hair, not tight enough to hurt but just enough to keep him from trying to move.

Seleien watched as one of the others ran to one of the wagons and then came back carrying a small wooden case. They set it down next to him and opened it. It was filled with bandages, surgical supplies, various bottles and small tins, among other medical supplies.

They must be a medic, Seleien thought to himself as they poured some water onto a washcloth. They carefully began to clean the blood off of him face as they exchanged words with the stranger. As the medic cleaned his face, the stranger let go of his hair and started to untie his wrists. Once his wrists were free the medic stepped back so the stranger could pull his tunic and linen undershirt off. Despite being next to the fire, Seleien couldn't help but shiver.

The medic went about cleaning the gash from being shot. The bolt had gone through the skin quite cleanly nor too deep either. Once they were done with the washcloth they grabbed one of the bigger bottles from the case and opened it. They proceeded to pour some of the contents right over the gash.

Seleien gasped as it produced a burning sensation. A fresh cloth was pressed into it to soak up the excess liquid. They put the bottle away and grabbed a small tin. They opened it and took a glob of the ointment inside onto their fingers. They dabbed it onto the gash.

Seleien gritted his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut. The medic wiped the ointment from their fingers and picked up a roll of bandages. The bandages were wrapped around his wound. It was a bit too tight for his liking but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to complain. Besides it would surely loosen on its own as he slept.

The bandages were cut, tied and put away. Gentle hands pressed on his ribs and nose, making sure they weren't broken. After they were finished Seleien was given his clothes back. He grimaced as he pulled his blood stained linen shirt over his head. He would have preferred to clean it first but he doubted his captors would even allow him to try. He put his tunic back on next, followed by his cowl and mittens.

He looked towards the stranger, who was holding his belt, "Can i have my belt back?"

They only shook their head in response.

Before Seleien could try to think of a way to convince them to give it back he felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to face the medic.

They were offering him a small uncapped bottle, "Drink this."

Seleien hesitated before taking the bottle, "This is going to put me to sleep, isn't it?"

The medic only smiled in response, slight amusement in their eyes. Seleien stared at them for a few seconds before looking back to the bottle. He took a deeep breath and drank, gulping the contents in one go. He handed the bottle back to the medic who added the cap and pocketed the bottle. They offered their hands towards Seleien.

He took them and they pulled him to his feet. As soon as he was up, he stumbled forwards. Whatever he had drank was working fast. The medic and the stranger took his arms and started to lead him towards the wagon he had yet to enter. The stranger had a much firmer grip on his arm than the medic. At least the medic was the one holding onto his injured arm.

They got about halfway in between the wagon and the camp before Seleien's knees gave out from underneath him. The two quickly adjusted, the stranger wrapping their arms around his chest and the medic lifting his feet to carry him the rest of the way. He couldn't help but groan at the pressure on his bruised ribs.

When they reached the wagon, the medic set his feet down and opened the doors. The stranger lifted him into the back, tossed his belt in and left. Seleien watched them leave out of the corner of his eye from where he laid against the wall. He moved his attention towards the medic who took his hands in theirs, tying them together.

Selien watched them as they got in the wagon themselves. They walked towards a large, person sized chest and opened it. They walked back to him, grabbed his belt in one hand and then scooped him up. Seleien could feel his heart start to pound as they headed straight towards the chest.

He was sat down next to the chest on a crate covered with a bear pelt. From here he could see a mattress and a pillow inside the chest. The medic was removing his shoes and setting them aside when he spoke up.

"Please don't put me in there. I can just sleep here."

The medic chuckled, "There's less drafts in there then out here. And you're more secure this was."

They took a large blanket and wrapped them around his shoulders. They picked him up and began to lower him into the chest.

"Wait wait! You don't have to do this. Please don't please don't," Seleien begged and tried to grab onto their arm.

They set him down and pulled him off of them. They pushed his hands to his body and quickly wrapped the blanket tightly round to keep them there. Holding the blanket in place, they grabbed a second blanket and shook it out. They put it over him and tucked it around him.

The medic stepped away for a second to grab a wolf pelt. In those few seconds, Seleien sat up. He tried to pull himself out of the chest, but whatever he had drank was making him so weak and tired. And it didn't help that he tried to use his injured arm either. Before he could untangle himself from the blankets, the medic returned. They put the pelt over him and pushed him back down.

"I promise i wont try to run if you let me sleep somewhere else," Seleien tried to beg again.

They snorted and tossed his belt onto him, "If you hate it that much you are free to try to kill yourself. Not that you would have the strength to try."

With that they slammed the chest shut. He could hear the sound of them sitting on the top. He smacked the sides of the chest as hard as he could. he tried to push the top but it wouldn't budge. There was a clink of a key going in a keyhole, followed by a click of the chest being locked.

"Wait wait!! Let me out!!," Seleien cried as he heard the sound of them leaving.

"Good night, Seleien."

There were sounds of the medic getting out of the wagon and then the doors being shut.

"please…" Seleien said softly as he listened to them walk away.

He doubted they heard him. He sighed and laid his head down on the pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry. It wasn't worth it to try to fight it. He shifted around, trying to get as comfortable as he could curled in a chest while his limbs were restrained. At least he was plenty warm. At least there was that.

#whump #oc whump #nonhuman whumpee #whumpblr #my writing #hurtcember2024 #poc whumpee #this took quite a while for me to edit #i saw the 4000+ word count and just... didnt want to edit something that long #barkingz #happy new years eve btw :)

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whittynovels · 8 months ago

Text

Predictions - Warner POV

reupload, minorly edited | written for creative writing class in 2013 before ignite me came out

Her head is turned away from me. She’s been quiet for the whole ride, and I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t care to talk to me or if because she’s focusing on the switchblade that she’s twirling in her hands. The noise of it rolling across her knuckles, combined with the motor’s hum of the car I drive, is the only noise between us. For the first half of the ride, she had slowly turned it over between her clumsy fingers, but after an hour’s stretch of empty road, she now maneuvers it quickly as if it is meant for her hands. She insisted on being armed today and I knew that her apprehension toward guns left a knife as the only other option of weaponry, so there it was. I look forward again at the road and soon hear the knife slide back into its sheath. Juliette’s jacket rustles as she looks at me.

“How much longer?” she says, the first words to me this whole trip.

I look at the clock on the dashboard before answering vaguely, “Not long.”

“Aaron,” she scolds, but I can hear anxiety in her voice. I turn a corner and then, once I straighten the wheel out again, look at her. She looks back with widened eyes.

“Not long, love,” I repeat.

Unsatisfied, she places the switchblade on the center console between us, and then she folds her arms across her stomach and looks forward again. Outside is just a collection of vacant warehouses on a side of town that hasn’t been occupied for years. Juliette is silent as she watches each cement structure go by until a compound, larger than its neighbors, comes into sight. It’s dark and made of cement bricks that are ashy in color, either from age or exposure to pollution. Its doors and windows are replaced with steel squares that reflect the dim sunlight that has fought its way through the hazy atmosphere. I can hear Juliette shift forward in her seat to get a better look.

“This is it?” she whispers.

“Yes.”

I stop the car two blocks away and she looks up again, knowing it’s time. The car has only been off for a second but she is already stepping out, leaning down to slip her knife into her sock. We meet again at the front of the car. Her eyes still rest on the large complex building and I can feel her emotions battle within her. For weeks, we have been following Anderson for the right time to strike. For years, he killed people for the purpose of eliminating the unneeded. For years, he used all of the Reestablishment’s resources for the wealthy and privileged instead of distributing it for all. I had been so blind to his actions, caught up in luxury and military life, that I didn’t even notice the crimes until Juliette had showed me. It then became blatant that the only way to reinsure equality was to eliminate the source.

I don’t even forgive him enough to care that he’s my father.

“Let’s split up,” she suggests as if she’s in charge. “You go east and I’ll head west. We’ll meet back up around back.”

“Don’t be seen,” I agree, staring down at her. She looks back up at me, and for the split second before she turns on her heel, I feel the urge to reach out and touch her. She walks away swiftly, the soles of her combat boots silent against the pavement. Her stealth is flawless as she blends into the shadows of the city. I mirror her tactic on the other side of the street, ducking through alleys and staying within the shadow of warehouse awnings to avoid being seen. In just minutes, I jog from the safety of the shadows to cross a street.

Everything around me is vacant, devoid of life, and dead silent. Inside the institute, however, I can sense the hum of life. Energy. People.

I turn the corner and a hand reaches out and grabs my arm. Without time to reach for my gun, a knife is pressed to my throat and I am powerless in the steel hold of probably someone twenty years more experienced in combat than I am.

But then a single second passes and my captor sighs loudly, exclaiming shakily, “Shit, Aaron. I almost killed you.”

I turn to see Juliette, her cheeks blanched as pale as her knuckles which grip the knife in her right hand. She catches me looking at the weapon that nearly killed me and she quickly sheathes the knife again.

“I have a key,” I inform her as I lead the way to a door about twenty feet away. I shove my hands in my pockets so that she doesn’t see they’re trembling. The door is made of metal and has a sealed lock on it so secure that it’s unbreakable by physical force. It wasn’t crafted that way for no reason.

The key is in my back pocket, and after retrieving it, I scan the card onto a reader embedded into the mottled brick beside the door. Next is a series of pass codes, and finally, a thumbprint. When it’s decided that I’m safe to enter, somewhere deep within the steel, gears grind mechanically. It gurgles like a boiling cauldron and vibrates visibly. Finally, the door clicks unlocked and slides open, revealing a dark hallway. It’s set to close automatically after entrance, so I nudge Juliette inside first and follow. We don’t wait to hear the door close behind us before we’re moving.

Three hallways forward, I pause in an alcove and pull her to me, leaning down to her ear. “I don’t anticipate that we’ll get separated; however, if that’s the case, room 382B on the fourth floor. You know what you need to do.” She stiffens upon hearing the words, probably not having considered that only one of us may come out of here alive. A brief stab of fear flutters in her chest.

“Of course,” she whispers, and then it’s gone. I find her forehead and place a quick kiss above her right eyebrow and then we duck back into the hallway, retreating through the doorway at the end of the entryway to another corridor.

The fluorescents here are turned on, buzzing and white like a hospital. The hall is devoid of activity, but it immediately feels more vulnerable. Juliette stops behind me, also uneasy.

“Do you think we should split up again?” She whispers, and her voice echoes off of the tiles that line the walls and floor in monotonous, diamond patterns.

I look over my shoulder at her. Watch her peek curiously into a room to her left which I know is probably empty or some sort of a storage room. Her uninterested gaze proves just as such as she moves her eyes back to mine. I shake my head.

“You’re too unfamiliar with these halls. We only separate if we need a diversion of we’re being shot at.”

“Okay.” We progress forward. She continues to glance into rooms but never lags behind farther than two steps.

The halls remain empty but lit as we wind toward the front of building, as if workers should be present. It is unsettling, especially since the parking lot appeared to be full.

I bring her to another metal door, another one that requires an access key. It hums similarly to the back door did as it grants our entrance, though it is significantly less armored for break-in. I pull the stainless steel chamber open once the locks have popped out of place and then step inside behind Juliette. She looks up, her neck craning to see all six flights of stairs that spiral upward.

“Everyone uses the elevators here, but the stealthier, the better,” I murmur and then begin taking them two at a time. She matches my pace but her breaths are audibly shorter after two flights. I’d rather carry her than to hear her struggle, but I didn’t want to offend her by making the suggestion. It’s not within her will to ever tell me when she’s weakening, even less to ask for help.

At the fourth floor, I duck out from the stairs toward the only door on the level that leads to the hallway. Juliette pretends to breathe regularly as I lean into another heavy, steel door. Despite our previous luck, people were definitely going to be present on these upper levels. The door handle is cold beneath my hands and there is no noise as I pull it open just a single centimeter to be able to look out.

I count four men.

Two linger in the open door of the nearest office and two others are walking with their backs to us toward the south end of the hall, both with manila folders under their elbows and their voices murmuring business.

Juliette ducks under my elbow to see for herself, but recoils when she sees that there are people standing just a feet away. I back away and allow the door to close again. Juliette’s gaze upon me is curious and measured. Her breaths are still quick—she gave up trying to act like the four flights of stairs didn’t wind her—and it is the only noise either of us makes for several seconds.

“You take them out and I’ll run for it,” she finally whispers.

“But you’ll be un—”

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she snaps. Panic flashes through her eyes as she realizes that that may not have been the smartest move with all the people outside, steel door between us or not. She takes a deep breath and then whispers, “I’ll be fine, Aaron, I swear.”

My expression hardens grimly, but finally I nod, grappling for her hand one last time. Her energy buzzes through me in a wave of exhilaration I can never prepare myself for.

“Be thorough,” she whispers, letting go of me and gesturing to the door, her posture stiffening in anticipation. I poise myself before the door again. Retrieving a handgun from my holster strapped to my back, I crack the door open again to locate the two men that still linger in the doorway across the hall. My finger has just brushed the trigger when Juliette’s hand touches my leg. Her fingers quickly caress up my leg. I stiffen in surprise and confusion until she finds my other pistol strapped to my belt and pulls it out for herself.

“You don’t have to—”

“Just go.”

I see her insert it into the waistband of her jeans in the corner of my eye.

A shaky breath in and a shaky breath out and then I am swinging the door open. My gun is aimed to the back of the first man as I pull the trigger and reverberations of gunfire fill the hall. I don’t need to watch their bodies fall to know the bullets hit the target.

Juliette darts out of the stairwell behind me and sprints to our left. The hall is eerily empty for the next few seconds before concerned workers begin to duck out of their rooms. Unarmed, those men make easy targets and drop like flies upon impact and stay down. Halfway to room 283B, my ears are ringing so badly that I don’t hear whenever Juliette screams my name. And in the end, I could only sink to the ground as the butt of a gun slams into my skull.

Darkness has never been an enemy of mine until I realize I’m trapped in it. As if it is a pool of water, my body floats in the substance, intangible and yet so debilitating it’s as if I am suspended tar rather than unconsciousness. Over and over, and the light behind my eyelids shifts and twinkles before finally fading to maroon then crimson then orange. And that’s when I realize I can open my eyes.

At first, the brightness makes it impossible to see anything, but then shapes begin to materialize. Shadows and figures become more and more definite, but it’s as if I am viewing it from a kaleidoscope. People are speaking around me, but they are incomprehensible murmurs that I’d rather block out than try to decode. Agony jackhammers inside my skull like there are millions of splinters poking into the left side of my head. I realize now that I’d rather be unconscious again. I moan and close my eyes again.

“At least the guy’s up. I have no clue how to get back to the sector.”

The voice is familiar, but not Juliette’s. I grasp for some recollection, but all I find in my brain is haze. Memories are unclear but not inaccessible, and the process of seeking them out is definitely too painful to try right now. Instead I focus on the fingers that I now feel across my temples, gentle but buzzing. I instantly recognize the sensation.

“Julie—” I exhale, my breath weak and causing her name to cut off.

The hands pause and lift away from my face, but seconds later they’re back again.

“Don’t try to talk. You’re bleeding pretty badly, and I’m sure you’ve probably got one hell of a headache right now.”

“So when you’re done playing nurse or whatever, I’d like to know how to get home now,” The first voice continued. In less of a nonresponsive state, my brain finally matches a face to the complaining. Kenji. I thought we’d escaped him getting to this place, but Juliette’s sidekick always has a way of showing up uninvited. Once you start to pretend Kenji isn’t as annoying as he is, it sort of becomes true. At least, that’s how I handle him.

I try opening my eyes again, and though the light causes my brain to throb more acutely, everything is clearer. I’m relieved to see that the light behind my eyelids is from the sunlight coming through a window and not an overhead lamp in a morgue.

We’re in a car, more specifically, the jeep that Juliette and I have brought here. I’m lying horizontally on the seat with Juliette’s lap under my head, and Kenji sits in the driver’s seat in front of me, buckled up and grasping the steering wheel even though the car isn’t moving. He’s chewing on his thumbnail boredly and winks at me in the rear view mirror when he catches me watching.

I look up at Juliette and find her staring back, looking bedraggled but unharmed. My gun still protrudes from her waistband like before, but now blood is sprayed across the front of her shirt. I can’t confirm that it’s not my own.

She allows me to turn my head, and doing so, she pulls away her hands from my face. She’d been dabbing blood off my temple with a handkerchief, and the cloth is now soaked through with red. I try to sit up, but her hand catches my shoulder and shoves me back down.

“Is he—”

“You hit your head pretty hard.” She folds the cloth in an even square, not looking at me.

“I just want to know if—”

“Kenji followed us and found you.” She looks down at her jacket and puts the bloody square into her pocket.

“Yes but how did you—”

“We really need to get back so you can—”

My patience grows thin and I interrupt her before she can cut me off again. “Juliette!”

She finally stops fiddling around with her fingers and looks at me dead-on. Something in my facial expression makes her laugh. She reaches out to run her fingers through my hair, no doubt stained from my own blood.

“It’s finished,” she says, finally addressing my question. “Your father is dead.”

#shatter me #warnette #warnette fanfiction

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maiverie · 1 year ago

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hello <3 i finally started reading triage and i laughed too hard reading the first chap :'D i loved the chemistry jokes sm (im still finding a time to read the rest but unfortunately it's almost time for school again) you're actually my fav author here in blr !!! your writing is just so well-written and that might be an understatement bcs it's just so good ??? i think no simple words can explain how amazing of an author you are <3 like the way you deliver the words and how you let readers imagine the little scenarios you make like it's so cool <3

(sorry if this is too long but) i also came here to ask you for advice hehe. im kind of a newbie here in blr and im currently working on my upcoming series.. and im unsatisfied with my progress and found myself deleting my drafts (for abt two times already ??) and i want to know how to be more confident in my writings and how not to overthink too much yk ?? would really love to hear your thoughts on this. you're not only a good author but a good advisor too !!! thank u sm <33

hi lexine (nice to meet u !!), stopppp YOU ARE TOOOO nice thank you sooo much for taking the time out to write this??? 😭💖 firstly, thank you for reading triage and plsss nawt the bitchless chemistry jokes 😭 kidding I also giggled while writing those parts smh

and secondly, ur fav author??? STOP LYINGGG i consider that such a high honour so thank you so much 🥹💞 to have your support is one thing and to read such positive words is another, so again thank you for taking the time out of your day to leave this message because it just made my day :(

aaa please don't apologise because I love long asks the most, and yes ofc my asks are always open! I have a tendency to ramble so beware a long message is below the cut — nevertheless I really hope this helps! 🥹💞

I firstly just want to preface that I obviously do not know everything about writing and this is all truly just one opinion, so only take what resonates 🫶

I can only really speak from personal experience, but I think it's actually a really good thing that you're going back to your drafts, revising your writing, which may or may not include the process of deleting/restarting things. obviously it's a really gruelling experience to go through (bc there's nothing worse than deleting all ur hard work), but I think it's really admirable that you're thinking about your writing and putting in the effort to make it better with each draft !! personally, I am constantly writing and re-writing my drafts and as much as it literally HURTS MY SOUL to delete words/paragraphs/sometimes entire chapters, I genuinely enjoy this process — to me, that's what writing is kind of all about? I know to most people ff is really not that deep (they're not wrong, it doesn't have to be) but I think the fact you're practising deliberation, reflection and thought in your writing, word choice, characters, plot etc. etc. is really really amazing !!

personally, I would say the thing to keep in mind is that everything needs to be in moderation — I've had chapters that have literally taken me a fuckload of re-writes (I'm a big overthinker / slight perfectionist), and while I did initially enjoy the whole process of editing / re-writing / discovering how to change certain scenes etc, it was really really mentally draining and I ended up losing passion for the story in the end. just be careful that this might happen to you? to avoid this, maybe every time you've reached a block (where no matter how much you re-write something, you always seem to hate how it turns out) you should try find a different source of inspiration — whether that means thinking about your story/characters with a different song playing, or moving wherever you tend to write, or having someone brainstorm ideas with you / beta-read your fic, or take a few days off !!

out of curiosity, what don't you like about your first drafts? is it the writing or the pacing or the characters? or is it something you can't quite put a finger on? let me know and we can try think about it together !!! im also the biggest overthinker when it comes to writing (💀) but what kind of comforts me and brings my feet back to the ground is reminding myself that 1) my fics are for MYSELF (i.e. you should be writing things you would want to read yourself, not what others might want to read - bc once you make it all about other people, that's when you really start to overthink) and 2) if im gna be fr, 90% of people on tumblr, especially enhablr, only really care about ff bc they want to read about their bias (if they wanted to read well-written literature, they would probably read a published book or smth yk). in saying that, it's totally okay for your fics to be imperfect (who cares! it's fanfiction!). I think just reminding yourself that ff is just a silly little thing u do in ur spare time (for which has 0 tie to your self-value) will keep you from overthinking things and raging when things get really hard !! when it comes to confidence, I think that comes gradually in small doses (the more you write, the more confident you become in your personal style / writing likes and dislikes), but maybe some ways to feel more confident is by getting a beta reader that you trust (and will give you effective advice — one that doesn't just shower you with compliments but can give you constructive criticism in a nice way), by reading other people's work (just to see if you're on the right track; if you read other people who have written similar tropes to you, it might make you feel less scared / in the dark bc you can see how they've executed it), or by changing the font on your google doc(?) to try reset your brain and re-read your work with fresh eyes.

I hope hope hope this helped in some way, please don't hesitate to reach out again if anything needs clarification or if I didn't quite answer your question (I'm sorry if I didn't 😭) !! <333 you're welcome anytime around here hehe so best of luck with ur series AND WELCOME TO BLRRRR <3333 it sounds like you're on the right track w ur writing if you're being conscious of all these things so I wouldn't fret at all!!! <33

if it helps, I've written other writing tips here, here and here! 🫶

#ask #@ : wonfied ♡︎#questions about

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cornus27florida · 1 year ago

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4, 5, 6, 7 and 22? :)

4) Like what I answer previously, most non-canon pairings - as fandom make hard to make it could happen by literally doing anything to make that possible.. Especially by bashing a character that opposing/as obstacle for the ship of "their" intent. Read those kinds just make my blood and head boils

I just want my fanfics to be my comfort stuffs, alright? :/

5) Lust and Chastity (Deadly 7 Inside Me), Severus Snape and Harry Potter (the mentorship/apprentice, severitus is dabest), Whitney of Monochrome Kingdom and Frederick of Plaid Kingdom (Cursed Princess Club) along with Prez (Calpernia) and Princess Gwendolyn, Chrome and Senkuu Ishigami (Dr. Stone), Mem-Cho with literally everyone especially her B - komachi girls Ruby and Kana (Oshi no Ko), Hakuba Saguru and Kaito Kuroba (Magic Kaito) and FBI gangs (James Black, Akai Shuuichi, Jodie Starling | Saintemillion, Andre Camel)...

6) CANON DIVERGENCE!!! FIX-IT TROPES! "EARN YOUR HAPPY ENDING!!" / Great Fanfic Writers will excel for those ! In any way of possible to make that could happen, be it redemption arc come earlier - time travelling to the past to making amends to the ones that they are wronged - OR... somehow gets forced to join forces against shared Big Bad as "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" thingy... I am so sucker of those stuffs as I am very aware of most favorite characters are initially "bad" but later on gets character developments

7) My least favorite headcannon is? Errr this is highly specific niche as depending on the fandom, and I am multifandom enjoyer girl lmao so this is hard to answer as headcannon of a fandom technically can't works on for other fandom but imho if we could gets the pattern of groupings will become these:

Tunnel without the light at the end = Shakespear-like works

Nonsense "fluffs" scenes that won't happen as too delusional

22) Anything that twisting the canon things characterization especially if doing do make it so lewd as : underage, r@p3, omega/beta/alpha dynamics + lewd furries... FORBIDDEN LOVE = IMMORAL RELATIONSHIPS = INCEST?? to your twin siblings even?! WHAT THE HECK - To anyone that writes it, please f*ck yourself (like you deserves hell or prison in my opinion) as to me is not self-indulgence (main motivation of most fanfic writers) BUT SHOWS HOW DIGUSTING YOU ARE - Please get help by professional means, but I guess your therapist will immediately need therapist 'to fix you' :@ EW

Hmm to ending things and please take it as personal opinion..

I always feel the creative works outputs in any media (both goes way as you the one that make canon thing, or simply do fanworks) are reflecting yourself somehow even what you make is very fictional that's technically can't happen IRL. Like your (fan)arts, (fan)fictions, and other editings as well songs - shows what's in your heart as well your personality a lot...

So anyone that like making a good full-written redemption stories of multi-chaptered fanfic (heck, I could consume the one with 250 chapters and even do reread while commenting it!) show how dedicated you are as the writer, and most of them shows that they are truly grieving for their real lives somehow (dream's shattered, their loved ones passed away and they still struggle to accepting reality that their present world won't be never same, they are unfortunately counting their days as maybe gets terminal illness and/or truly in confusion/overwhelmed about what they need to do for their life even try to attempting to taking their own life as not only once but likely multiple times, or they are unsatisfied with the life they're experienced like wishing for things to happened differently as "what-if" in the past I choose that one instead) BUT MAKING THOSE NEGATIVE FEELINGS TO BECOME POWER OF WRITINGS IN THE WAY OF ANY CREATIVE ART AND MEDIA LIKE WRITING - even, yes Fanfictions...

I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!!! YOU ARE NOT ALONE AS WELL YOU ARE SO VALUABLE, PRECIOUS ONE AND DESERVES TO BE HEALED AS WELL TO GETS WHAT YOU WANTS - You aren't greedy or ungratefull or worthless or only could doing mistakes or keeps getting series of unluck or a monster like you depict yourself or anything negatives to be while likely overthinking everything, you are just want to be acknowledged - cared - be happy - loved by more people

I feel I do too, in the way of my fave fanfics especially fits the themes somehow... [Also I am working on my first mega AU project that I kinda hope you at least give a look, and I will be on hearts over the moons if you give me kudo and comment in any way about what you think - as long as you read it properly of course, I dislike anyone that commenting without even try things first). Here my fanfiction that I refer :

How to breaks free from abuse, bullying, grieving the passing of loved ones etc (Honestly I am not experiencing everything and I am sorry I won't be specific about what I experienced but somehow as I likely be autistic person with my therapists confirmed spectrum: anxiety disorder that even makes me at my worse by got paralyzed half body for half month last year) BUT we are the victors not victims so we definetely didn't anyone pity (ew no Pity Party, thanks) especially if those are all fakes... Please understand that everyone experienced and feels will be very different - AND they are likely the most self- aware of how fucked up their situations is (so gets repeated the list of what happens for them, especially if forced to tells the details of what happened is SO TRAUMATIC to the points anyone gets freeze/stutters/trying to escape the situation = Please don't do these especially if you are not mental health professional by any means and just based on your 'internet' assumptions)... So what you can do? Actually very simple, just be there alongside them - let your presence known by any ways (if they are OK with skinships, hug them or pats) and be patient and KIND... They are truly want to telling about themself but various and likely multiple things make them unable to so, and highly distrust everyone for now....

But if you are there, simply by being there... It's so healing....

youtube

P.S.S: Wah my answer box turning to be therapy sessions, these are free ones of course - in the way of me rantings and ramblings but also for Anons to somehow be happy too

Have a nice future ahead, Anon ^^ Even if you are truly happy and content with everything, life always changes - but it's OK

#inbox answer #answering inbox #multifandom rp

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eureka-its-zico · 1 year ago

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Hi, I'm back with another essay 😂

I've had a busy week at work and I thank the heavens it is Friday because I need to just sit and stare at a wall for a while and decompress 😂 Also, my week's been fully thrown off since Monday as I did not sleep at all that night so I've been all over the place. HOWEVER, it's been a fairly alright week!

I thought I'd send in an ask to mainly talk video games because Dragon Age, ME AND Baldur's Gate? Especially ME?! I don't get to talk about ME enough!

Okay, so I have to admit that for most of the game, my party was Shadowheart, Karlach and the gith chick, Lae'zel, that you don't like 😂 And I have to admit that at first I was on the fence about her, but she quickly grew on me and even more so as the story progressed. Larian Studios gave each of their characters a great background and amazing personalities. And majority of them have great character progression as the game progresses, imo! (there's some things that happen in that game that I cannot comment about yet, but honestly, Larian Studios are creative geniuses lol)

In regards to Lae'zel, I will definitely want to hear more of your thoughts as you progress through the game!

Also, I cackled at the fact you restarted the game because you found out you missed Gale! 😂 I have to admit though - I would absolutely do the same! Let me know what you decide on him, because I went through the whole game and my opinion about him didn't change 😂

How are you finding the game so far? What do you think of the story and the characters you encountered? Both, the characters you can have in your party and NPC's? Have you tried to speak with any animals yet? 😂

Coming up to Dragon Age and Mass Effect… It's been years since I touched a Dragon Age game, but I remember the first and second games fondly. But Mass Effect… Oh boy, haha. I played the games… I don't even know how many times. ME2 still to this day holds a special part in my heart so when they announced an ME Legendary Edition with all three games reworked, all shiny and pretty?? You bet I got them and played through all three games :D And it felt like playing them for the first time again. Also, Garrus? Yes, please!

Have to admit, I was disappointed at the ending on ME3, both because of the ending they gave Commander Shepard and also because the ending that they originally came out with was… a flop and unsatisfying, though they gave longer endings after a patch because of fan disappointment. And I will forever think that the "secret ending" of Commander Shepard's N7 logo in those ruins actually means they aren't dead (there should also be a new ME game???! And they showed Liara in the trailer??!).

The universe that ME has, with the story and characters is just absolutely mind blowing and those games are beautiful ❤ And personally, I look for games that have a rich and deep story so the fact that we are talking about DA, ME and Baldur's Gate right now? My heart is singing and I am just all warm and happy haha

Another one of my favourites is Witcher 3. AND it was a fave before Henry Cavill became a live action Geralt 😂 I spent a lot of hours on that game... One could even say too many, but if anyone does - they're wrong 😂

But of course, I have to take a moment and scream about "Violent Delights", because excuse me? Where has Enishi Yukishiro been and why have I not seen him?? 👀 I know what I'm watching over the weekend lol I need to find time to go through your whole master list because your writing is like nourishment and it does unexplainable things to me!

And that sneak peek for chapter 7..? Oh fuck. These two petty fools will be the end of me 😂

On a personal note, thank you for your kind words in your reply. I appreciate you for taking the time to reply and share your lovely words with me because they mean a lot ❤

I hope your week has been great, Jenn! And I hope you will have a lovely, restful weekend! Sending you lots of virtual hugs! ❤

Okay so I KNOW you just sent me a brand new ask but I need to answer this one first! I am so sorry it took me so long to reply 😩

How have your weeks been going? It’s been a while since we’ve checked in with one another! I sincerely hope that no technology has been acting up and that your days have been peaceful and content 🖤

DID YOU BY CHANCE WATCH RUROUNI KENSHIN: THE FINAL WITH ENISHI YUKISHIRO?!!??? I legit wrote that thinking it would get him out of my system but it actually did not lol and I’m already just planning on continuing it but it’s just going to be filth. Pure smutty filth and I refuse to apologize 🤣🤣

Right now Karlach is still currently my fav! Her character is just so FUN. She has such a good attitude, and she is definitely the type of person I would want in a real-life crew. I’m torn on the love interest part of it because like…so far I like none of them lol. Astarion is in the lead, but barely, just because he’s a vampire and I’m a whore for love bites 😈 lol but I have noticed that he does have these soft moments through the indifference he conveys. He’s just different from who I usually pick in games. Although, in Cyberpunk I picked Judy but if I could’ve picked Johnny (absolutely LOVE Keanu) I would’ve lol. I love broody men.

I agree with you on ME3!! I’m so glad they went back and added more to it. I think it allowed a lot of us to get the closer we needed when it came to our Commander Shepherds. And yeah, if you chose the destroy option, they hinted that he/she was still alive, but I could never choose that one. I’m such a paragon lol I wanted everyone to get along and if my character had to sacrifice herself to do it, I did it every time (I can’t do that to Eve) 😩😩 except the one time to see if the destroy ending was worth it. I won’t hold my breath about the new DA and ME trailers they showcased a couple years ago, because Andromeda was not a fav lol. I think trying to bring in a new character to take over for shepherd is going to be incredibly hard, but I am interested to see if the continue with the storyline of inquisition for DA!

Baldur’s Gate 3 is just such a breathe of fresh air because I’m such a whore for a good storyline. I LOVE them. It makes it so much more immersive and makes you care about the outcomes of those in your party and your character. Witcher 3 was sooooo good at that too!

I’m still waiting to replay Cyberpunk 2077 from the beginning because of the Sons of Liberty DLC. I’ve heard amazing things about it, and I’m hyped but I got 2 weeks left of Uni work and then I graduate and I’m DONE! I’m so ready lol 🤣🤣

Thank you for always being such an absolute joy to talk to and for the essays lol. For being one of the sweetest humans alive. I hope your weekend is treating you well 🖤🖤 much love

#thecheesyreader #answered #brb gonna respond to your new ask shortly lol

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horizon-verizon · 1 year ago

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I think it could be correct to say the Radowski article can feel accurate for ASOIAF when the rest of the storyline would really turn out as this better written version of GoT some fans always seem so eager for. The illusion they fall victim to is we would have a 'good' story then, because it would be technically better written. But 95% of the writer's criticism would still stand, and we'd still end up with pointless, toxic, unsatisfying shlock overdoing the subverting expectations shtick.

Disclaimer: This post will undergo several edits even after publishing because I am that person.

Anon's talking about my Twitter thread HERE about a 2021 article writer's critique of GRRM and ASoIaF. And they are referring to the last post about it HERE. And their post kinda reminds me of the latest ozymalek/pheonixashes quote here:

However, I wouldn't say "95%" because:

more than once, Radowski's goes into parochial stances that turn out to be incorrect and relying on what others have said of the text rather than what is in the text--they often actually more reveal how we've been guided into looking to Dany as the readers' AND commonborn's/HUMANITY's hope both by narrative and our pro-feminist/class-conscious selves (ASoIaF being "anti-fantasy" or "having no fantasy/a-fantasy"when that is really just some stupid fans' interpretation)....and this really undermines their point about ASoIaF being even technically horrible

they/she used a particular literary element incorrectly in their critique of how GRRM writes his characters

I'd instead say "70-80". Or that several times, the writer makes their good points, and then sometimes messes it up.

I start to question what do critics mean when they say "well-written"? Morally vs technically, and when "technically" just means aestheically vs moral criticism; is the line blurred there, or do people blur it themselves? "Technically", to my understanding, refers to paragraph formatting, pacing, spelling, punctuation, grammar and vocabulary (i.e., diction); all those things that writers and speakers use to convey meaning almost poetically, that itself could develop a certain style or rhythm either familiar or more on the original side. All are meant to convey the psyche of the character, and the stakes of the events/scenes, and ultimately contribute to the moral spirit of the story. One person says: "I-the-reader am a brain parasite. the characters think thoughts they would never tell me. I see their worst impulses, their immediate instincts, their intrusive thoughts. a lot of it is unsavory, but it's done in such a way that it all feels deeply real and true to life." Does this not mean that the story is written better than what Radowski thinks it is? I'd say "yes".

There is this:

AND

It's weird and self-sabotaging to assume that because (some) fans interpreted the Starks pre-Ned-death as the moral standard of the story that is what the text offers.

The Boltons have been the Starks' ancient enemies--not quite to the level of the brackens and Blackwoods' enmity bc: the Starks always managed to come out on top; there was had lasting "peace" intervals of cohabitation; and the fighting itself reasoned/characterized not by the Blackwood-Bracken Romeon-Juliet family feuding so much as the Boltons being eternally ambitious and ruthless. I think that because they take on their flayed skin and ruthless ambition as their house identity, the feudal system itself creates the Boltons and we have an interesting enough tension of what makes identity/the villain in such a fantasy story. It's philosophical. But hey, I haven't heard or seen criticism of this beyond OP's oversimplification of the Boltons' presence.

Yes, of course, we all can see the Bolton's final end coming from the Starks and yes they are obviously evil. The question is not whether their conflict is complicated so much as the questions about identity present in such a conflict married to the feudal/Westerosi militant preference for male "strength" that makes the Boltons develop pride in such violence that I definitely think produced the crazy, off-the-wall Ramsay Bolton. Another character we can attribute such a social phenomenon to is the ironborn revving/raping society's effect on how men like Euron Greyjoy become who they are.

Oh well, a missed opportunity.

Even me just pointing out how Ned's death launches his family to become many different people is a testament to the deaths/violence/bursts of emotion creating the plot points the OP critic claims do not exist at all.

Like I said in that Twitter thread, the writer makes very true & good points about sexual violence against women, and I personally don't much care for Brienne's story in the way it's almost written for Jaime's not-morally-redemptive-but-self-redemptive arc (as presented by fans as morally redemptive bc it's supposedly getting Jaime away from the "true" abuser/source of evil in his life, Cersei), and I have taken the "soft" goal of identifying where and when GRRM makes his repackaged/reversed subverted tropes because this wasn't a part I pondered as often as I should have.

However, it is actually incorrect for this person to say that it's "never" explained why Brienne wants to be a knight or imply that her "idealization of knighthood" doesn't itself come from her experience with gender.

I don’t understand why Brienne couldn’t stay at Evenfall Hall and be her father’s Castellan or Captain of the Guard. She’s the only surviving child (and heir) of Lord Tarth, so I’m confused why her father would let her roam Westeros as a hedge knight. It’s also never explained why Brienne wanted to be a knight in the first place.

So just because Brienne is her father's only surviving child, she must, morally, become the lady instead of following her dreams and being a knight (what the original writer leaves us to believe)? The first actual female knight to be customarily trained or to become the better/needed version of the knighthood that real knights (all men) have abandoned in their responsibility and cynicism?

So, there is only one way to live morally, and it is to act inauthentically, to ignore the pleasure one finds in the sword and self-defense, and to be another's more direct "guard"? A guard is an inferior "career" choice for a GNC woman?

The writer expresses that they can't fathom being a knight when there's the option of being a lord or the equivalent. Maybe they should read the book and accept different people, including women, have different perspectives and reactions to whatever empowers them, different developments of being? Not everyone wants to or should hold political positions of power that move & practically organize large groups of people/a community. Some people prefer to just be musicians or writers, poets or parents, doctors but not scientists or philosophers, etc.

blankwhiteshild says it way more eloquently than I in various posts, but the purpose of Brienne and Jaime is to highlight a constant thing GRRM does with his characters: making the marginalized the heroes of the story. The writer of the article winds up reinforcing some "toxic" and misogynist ideas in the process, which in turn puts into doubt their abilities to read or be totally or even well-entrusted to inform people about what's going on in the story and in the characters' minds.

The OP is under the impression that Brienne is trying her damndest to become like a man, transition or be a transgender man, or truly just to reject all modes of traditional femininity (that is really just socially-coded and enforced, constructed femininity) just because she loves to use a sword and does not conform to the Andal ideals of feminine looks. They should have been clued in about the falseness of this sort of thing with there being a politics of desirability and an insufficient binary enforced through femininity characterized as the "opposite" of masculinity--by how she's constantly described as "ugly" and "too much" of a "man". A commentator in that thread pointed out:

So the original critic seems not to have understood where Brienne was coming from, how young she is, or even familiar with her history...which is the entire impetus behind many characters' conflicts with the system GRRM is criticizing but choosing not to criticize through more characters other than Dany & Arya.

Not only that, Brienne "acts like a man" not because she hates women or thinks them inferior and hates herself as Ceresei does. She does not hate herself because she does not take her womanhood as the justified cause for her society subjecting her to abuses or reserving power away from her towards men--she did not develop that sense as Cersei has. She takes up the sword because her build allows and inspires her the confidence and opportunity to protect herself and others, which psychologically fulfills her. Plus she greatly admired and loved Catelyn Stark, who is not at all "mannish" in the social paradigm of Andal feminine beauty at all--Catelyn is rather known for her physical beauty as well as her sense and practice of responsibility. Catelyn also struggles with seeing her past labor of directing her Tully household and being a sort of new authority after her mother dies, having learned all her life that what she performed as a man's job. She constantly vacillates between marrying what women/girls acting out their obedient, subordinate roles versus herself using and wanting more political duties coded or suggestive of "male" from both necessity and necessity-self-generated desire. In all of this, Brienne admires Catelyn, wanted to be her sword shield forever at one point, and never said that Catelyn should be something that she wasn't. The text gives us that Brienne left her father's castle because she knew that she would never fulfill that lady-lord role despite her being able to fight (again, not everyone should be or can be or wants to be a leader in that way), so she left to follow her dreams.

To argue that the text says she is inherently mannish because of this ignores the text AND actually repackages Brienne's struggle with society's evaluation of her worth/her experiences with sexual assault as unreal and unworthy of discussion. It reinforces, ironically enough, that Sansa-stan bullshit of women tending naturally having to be as little as "masculine" as possible to be both considered real women and worthy of admiration. What happened to the love for gender-nonconforming women AND the truth of GNC also still being victims to misogyny and sexual violence--hello, the consequences of anti-trans bathrooms hurting Black/PoC, physically GNC white women and girls! You are attributing sword-wielding and martial activities to only men, just as how medieval men used to justify women being kept out of higher positions of power (Rhaenyra; written by mononijikayu). Again, just bc even I--the reader--am uninterested (at least as I am of Dany) or stupid, doesn't mean that this theme and logic isn't there for anyone to see and observe if they simply applied themselves.

I also find the Starks-as-a-unit uncompelling as hell, esp without their women. Their roles pre-NED-death as sort of societal "fixer-uppers-but-by-being-conservative-and-non-confrontartional-until-the-social-feudal-order" is ethically unsound and thus tiresome. Their individuals Arya, Jon, Bran Sansa (and in that order) are interesting and compelling...but the Starks before Ned dies? Eh.

It's clear that they were meant to be the narrative's designated feudal honor keepers, which really isn't very "honorable" at all (the unraveling/unseating Stark supremacy "traditional values: honor, justice, responsibility, and family" that's really just maintaining the integrity of the oppressive feudal social order). I'd argue that the Starks' dissolution was both needed and necessary to the points GRRM strives to make about class and gender roles. It pushes things off to position the Big 5 as who they need to be for the Long Night, by putting them in positions where they must navigate around constrictions against their transitioned states/identities to prepare Westeros and become leaders in their own right.

There is something visceral and pleasant and morally satisfying to be said about being the socially ostracized/marginalized person, even though not their own intentions, becoming a crucial element to saving the world by redirecting the societies that seek to destroy or limit them. There is something like a grand poetic "compromise" (this is not the right word, but the right word escapes me) there that draws me in because it's often the case for marginalized people to be capable of living in this world ethically confidently and with as much sense in their own agency as possible...as much as they can anyway.

Yes, I would say the draw for GRRM's work and ASoIaF is that it puts us into these people's minds without relying on a stream-of-consciousness POV like that of Virginia Woolf.

Bran's becoming the 3-eyed crow and showing that disabled people are worthy and can "do" or be able at important tasks and roles while being still imperfect; Sansa coming into her own against Littlefinger coming from being a bully against her sister from said classism & sexism that favors her; Tyrion, like Bran, his own flops and struggles in living as a disabled man but still being an aristocratic man (Shae)...I'd say that yes, there is a lot of conflicts (not "internal") many characters of ASoIaF go through. Problem is that they are not as actively trying to upend or explore other options as Dany. Jon maybe is closest, but even he still uses slavery with not as much compunction about it as Dany locking up her own dragons to protect her Meerenese people, so...

About how to write violence in a way I do not think is the only effective way to write violence (regarding Oberyn's fight w/the Mountain vs. Chuck Palahniuk’s Invisible Monsters):

However, to say that Oberyn's death itself was unsymbolic and totally absent of anything higher in meaning, that the random stableboy's death did not itself refer to something other than a random stableboy getting smashed is incorrect:

"The luckless stableboy [sic] behind him was not so quick. As his arm rose to protect his face, Gregor’s sword took it off between elbow and shoulder. “Shut UP!” the Mountain howled at the stableboy’s scream, and this time he swung the blade sideways, sending the top half of the lad’s head across the yard in a spray of blood and brains […]".

I would argue that the stableboy getting hit and killed in the crossfire conveys his and other "peasants" protection from higher borns' military, violent activities. The randomness, as we know it now or should now, is meant to convey the randomness begotten from a privileged lack of compassion. That is not an absence of meaning by definition.

However, it becomes trying and consequential when there's very little to no real pushback from those little guys elsewhere in the narrative through collective actions or inside looks at how these people may protect themselves against these people. That perspective is missing and thus undermined. It then is GRRM is saying that there is no out nor even escape/relief. And then you are exhausting your reader more than you should--not to say that you should push your readers' mental and emotional capabilities, but you must be aware of what can bring them (a particular audience) to an unforgiving point of frustration and hopelessness. It may not be intentional, but for writers tasking themselves to be as critical of societies like this and failing to notice such a thing in their own writing is a serious failure that needs to be addressed.

American enslaved people not only physically rebelled through weapons and organized themselves in secret meetings or ran away. The ones who stayed or didn't fight poisoned their masters; held up work; destroyed tools; made as of they were too ill to work; made emotionally healing hymns that themselves were instructions or hidden messages; learned skills "from blacksmithing to dressmaking, to increase their indispensability to those who profited off their labor and to decrease their chances of being sold and separated from loved ones".

The consequence of not letting students know about various ways enslaved people resisted their conditions: "But because insurrections were so rare, when they are taught in isolation, students are left with the impression that the vast majority of enslaved people who did not rebel accepted their bondage. Some even interpret this to mean that African Americans were complicit in their own enslavement."

While common-born people are not slaves because they cannot be sold off and/or separated from families, they also were not completely considered important enough and in many cases "enough" of humans themselves. I mean, even in Essos, do we often hear of how the slaves (slaves by class and war, not race, but it is still the complete objectification of humans for the economic prosperity of a few) resist?

This is why Dany is also even more beloved--she is that "out" and possible rescue., as she--above all the other characters--is thinking about people across and under these class distinctions for their own sake. She embodies the goal that more ethically conscientious readers are looking for (esp those who are the more progressive...and morally correct, tbh).

And I must point out that I agreed with the paragraph formatting the article writer pointed out. If It were me, I would have separated & isolated much of the sentences to convey the quickness of the battle and to emphasize that stabelboys'd eath. If you're going to convey the randomness of his death, why not the isolation of this death by rewriting it to:

Spectators screamed and shoved at each other to get out of the way. One stumbled into Oberyn’s back. Ser Gregor hacked down with all his savage strength. The Red Viper threw himself sideways, rolling. The luckless stableboy [sic] behind him was not so quick. As his arm rose to protect his face, Gregor’s sword took it off between elbow and shoulder. “Shut UP!” the Mountain howled at the stableboy’s scream, and this time he swung the blade sideways, sending the top half of the lad’s head across the yard in a spray of blood and brains […]

Not only is this less drag on my eyes and brain, I have made sure to readers that this moment is emphasized and to be remembered. Of course, with a later hint of some malice or rebellion targeted towards the mountain from maybe a friend or family member of that poor stableboy.

Therefore, the OP comes off of being more like describing how they think fiction writers should write--conflating style with overall storytelling, not the grammar and formatting. And thus, it becomes a lot easier for anyone else to believe this person that they just do not like high-fantasy fiction as a genre, and thus cannot conceive of how speculative, self-subverting, and subtle the genre could and can be. It doesn't help that they used a nonhigh fantasy example for the technical writing for their analysis of violence-creation.

Quentyn Martell was a bit redundant. However, "irrelevant to the narrative" is simply false. With his death, we now anticipate how Dany is going to use or interact with the Martells if and when she ever lands on Westeros and searches for allies....the Martells being those who supported her brother in Robert's Rebellion and from whom Oberyn, the guy who tried and failed to exact revenge for Elia on the Mountain (another theme the OP ignores in their critique of GRRM presenting"bad writing"). It's almost as if the answer to Elia's justice is not going to come from male-on-male "honor" killing, even out of her brother's love so much as Dany having to reckon with her own family's decisions face to face. Apparently, this is not an exciting enough prospect.

It also goes into how the OP thinks how characters' deaths somehow, someway mean nothing in the plot or that GRRM uses expected unexpected death for no reason at all. Which, as I already showed, is untrue and an exaggeration.

So, ironically, by criticizing GRRM's use of character death, and his lack of blatant critique, the OP practices what I think is GRRM's real issue: a liberal lack of real critique on their own absolutes and exaggerations that undermine their credibility.

Let me reiterate: what makes ASoIaF problematic is the lack of perspective and paired over-exaggeration of some violence (most esp the sexual kind against women and girls) for the sake of emphasis that was already emphasized and to make a point that would have already been made without such "emphasis", thus normalizing such violence, even claiming it "necessary". The violence isn't "pointless" as much as it goes beyond the necessary and repeats itself with no relief or seeking hope w/o Dany's anticipatory and present critical role, thus it seems pointless.

Remember, this shit was written in the 80s-90s, published in the 90s, and is now being read and critiqued by people in 2023 who have gotten much more conscious of the need to critique the status quo...but also can themselves fall into reinforcing it when they do not choose to engage with the taboo text/moments with a more distanced lens. And GRRM is still a rich, liberal white man.

#asoiaf asks to me #asoiaf articles #accidental substantive editing #grrm critical #asoiaf writing #fandom discussion #fandom debate

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mc-cos-charm · 1 month ago

Text

GENSHIN AU: SAGAU -chapter 2-

"THE PIECE OF DREAM."

Warning : blood (please if you are not comfortable do not read) gore, or anything related to injury, force healing.

??? P.o.v

THAT place was really dark but somehow comforting. being in an abandoned shrine is quite a fright but still somewhat you could feel the rush in your vain , The shrine was comforting yet feels like multiple bugs are crawling around your skin.

Walking through this path again feels nostalgic , it feels like it's just yesterday when it happened.

Them all smiling, frantically shouting

"Burn the imposter¡!

Burn the imposter! - if not dead then ,

Offer them to the guillotine."

"We want blood!"

"For the peace, the imposter must be dead."

All of them chant in unison , wanting nothing but to eradicate the one who they call the imposter.

The world bowed and beg for forgiveness, the flowers that had bloomed from the news that they're creator is back had wilted when the creators blood drop onto the ground.

જ⁀➴

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ.

Your p.o.v

I gasped for air while my hand instinctively touched the arrow that had pierced in my head.

I grabbed the arrow's head and broke it then pulled it out using the very end, I was exhausted . pained from losing blood

"It's painful. I can't take it anymore. I need to get it out bef—"

It is indeed a miracle , i could still think when there's an arrow stock in my head, I'm just thankful that it's a wooden one.

The arrow dropped when my left hand glitched for a moment before it glowed out, I could feel the wound in my head healing. It isn't a good experience, I felt my skin, the very nerve and my skull heal itself. I don't like it , it's like being forced to heal and not giving my body time to think about what happened to itself.

"WAIT. HOLD UP! my hand just glitched and the wound is healed and WHERE TF AM I??" I yelled out, confused about what was going on with my body and where I should be now.

"According to my memory...oh wow according? To my memory? Dawg I have a memory of a goldfish"

I laughed at my own joke after looking around and seeing a lot of mountain tops ,I could say that this is Chenyu vale... The mount laixin? I guess .

"is this necessary? This place is peaceful right? , no hunting like those fics I read on any sites?" , looking left and right. There's no one but flying rocks... No one to hurt me.. right?

"so do let me summarize everything you have done." Jean reluctantly looked at the adventurer.

"you saw someone who looked like the creator and knew that our creator is in their divine seat and that the one you saw in front of klee was an imposter?" The acting grand master of favonius added.

"yes!" , said by the adventurer who had shot the 'imposter' with an arrow, the adventurer himself looked out of place as his complexion is not the best to look at.

The traveler intervened with an unsatisfied voice , "even if it's not our creator or even if it's an imposter, you should never shoot anyone with an arrow."

"as the traveler said!" Paimon said , anger in her chipped voice.

"and You should never do such violence in front of a child." Even if begrudgingly voiced by amber , she didn't let it slip out. She was only worried about the child's health after that moment.

"BUT ITS AN IMPOSTER! WE SHOULD NEVER LET AN IMPOSTER ROAM AROUND" , the adventurer said.

"Enough." Jean had finally had it. The nation is freedom itself. Such atrocities cannot be condoned in this nation in the first place.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚✩₊˚

Author: alright... This sits too long inside my draft and it's not even a long story , really sorry...

P.p.s : this is raw and hasn't been edited yet

I could feel this fic putting a curse on me.

#genshin impact #gender neutral reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin traveler #genshin paimon #genshin jean #genshin amber #genshin klee #GENSHIN IMPACT CULT #orig: mc cos charm

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billconrad · 6 months ago

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My Writer’s Block Solution

Writer’s block is when a writer cannot invent a topic to put to paper. Since I began my adventure, I have never seriously faced this issue. Why? Before I wrote my first book, I had been thinking about the story for 20+ years. I thoroughly understood the plot and did not get hung up during the writing process. I even had enough mental material for the next book in the series.

Yet… My first three books were dumpster fires, which needed severe editing. Fortunately, I discovered outlines before writing my fourth book. This saved me months of editing and vastly improved the quality.

Everything (except marketing) went fine until I got to my eighth and ninth books. They are stuck at the outline stage. For the first time, I am having difficulty creating a basic story. The heart of the matter is that I know the general plot, but the specifics connecting the core concept are nonexistent. I believe this problem is indeed writer’s block.

I have tried three different methods to jog my creative juices. My first idea was to ignore the outline for a week and then confront it. Over time, this procedure vetted some issues, but the core problem remained. My next idea was to talk to my mother (my beta reader) and two fellow authors about the plot. This discussion teased out some good ideas, but I was still stuck. My third idea was to start over with a clean outline. I boldly did this three times, and this technique was the most successful, but I was still stuck.

My core issue remains. I know the basic plot, but there are big holes. I researched what other authors do to overcome writer’s block for this article. The helpful websites suggested scheduling writing time, reading, exercising, forcing writing, and accepting flawed work. Another website recommended talking to a fellow author and using existing material as a starting point.

Girrr. I have learned the hard way never to force myself to write. My life has always had a strict schedule with time set aside for writing, and I do not accept flawed work. Now what? Time to try something new.

A week ago, inspiration hit. ChatGPT. Wait, wait. It’s not what you think. In addition to outlines, I also have developed brief character biographies. So, I wrote ChatGPT, “This is a character biography for Kim (insert). She has problem X. List ways to solve X.” The results were unsatisfying, so I typed, “retry.” It only took three retries to find something that was interesting. Then, I asked ChatGPT to expand that concept. Next, I asked ChatGPT to recommend obstacles for my characters and situations they might encounter.

The experience felt like speaking with a con artist. ChatGPT was trying its best to generate something that would entice me. This feels like talking to a con artist (an expert BS generator). ChatGPT rarely creates something with substance, but every result sounds impressive.

Generator is the perfect word to describe ChatGPT. For example, only so many situations make a person angry. Betrayal, loss, failure… ChatGPT has a database of these situations and connects them with other database parts. Anger caused Kim stress, so she walked around her neighborhood to think about the issue. A failed business caused Kim’s heartache, and she solved it by starting a new business.

ChatGPT provided many ideas, and I plugged them into my outline. It took a week to make my outline for both books strong enough to analyze. I estimate that in 2 months, I will have the confidence to write a first draft.

Important side note: I do not use ChatGPT for writing. Why? Using an AI program to write is not the point. My writing is my writing. Yes, my creations have flaws, but they are from my heart.

Well, is it fair to use a ChatGPT-generated plot? I do not look at the situation this way. I like to think of it as talking to a patient person about my plot with the intent of getting ideas. Also, I did not ask ChatGPT to invent a plot. “Tell me a story about unicorns.” I feel this kind of generated inspiration would be crossing an ethical line. Alright, truth. If I tried that and ChatGPT came up with a better plot than what I was capable of, I would feel defeated.

I suppose I have created a new method for tackling writer’s block. It may not apply to everyone, but I hope my idea will help a few writers develop something wonderful.

You’re the best -Bill

July 10, 2024

Hey, book lovers, I published four. Please check them out:

Interviewing Immortality. A dramatic first-person psychological thriller that weaves a tale of intrigue, suspense, and self-confrontation.

Pushed to the Edge of Survival. A drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

Cable Ties. A slow-burn political thriller that reflects the realities of modern intelligence, law enforcement, department cooperation, and international politics.

Saving Immortality. Continuing in the first-person psychological thriller genre, James Kimble searches for his former captor to answer his life’s questions.

These books are available in softcover on Amazon and in eBook format everywhere.

#writing #writer's block #creativity

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imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese · 9 months ago

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30, 50, 70?

30. How much do you edit your fics? Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?

Lots. My first drafts come out more like free-verse poetry than fiction with lots of summary and would be very unsatisfying to read. I edit both as I write and go through the whole thing before I post. When I edit as I write, it's more of a looping edit, if that makes any sense.

I'll be filling in the gaps in the free-verse brain-spew to make it coherent, get to a point where it sure would have been cool if there was a cast-iron frying pan, go back, add in the frying pan, read through to where I was and, in doing so, realize I once again screwed up how many people the Drifter shot and have to stop, do some math, go back and increase a number, read back down and realize that Eris cannot wield a sword and a hand canon and her frozen Ahamkara bone and pick up the Drifter's rifle with only two hands, loop back up and edit that, read back through and get down to the point where they're running through a hallway and realize I said ground, like dirt, and the floor is metal, loop back up and fix that, read back down and write "she answered" only to realize she has "answered" four times in the same small chunk of text, figure out which of the four "answered"s I'm keeping and come up with different phrasing and/or actions to take in place of phrasing for the other three, realize that one of those actions, while cool, should have a reaction from someone else, loop down and add that in, read through that again only to find that we can't still be talking when we're on opposite ends of the complex and we said we were keeping the communicators set to 20 feet, highlight a chunk of text, cut it, paste it at the bottom of the page below where I'm writing, go back and rewrite my way out of the logistical corner I painted myself into, and then try to figure out how to weave what I chopped out back into the narrative without getting them more than 20 feet from each other and/or without them being able to talk back and forth across the comms that can't go beyond 20 feet… wash, rinse, repeat…

50. How would you describe your writing style?

My fanfiction output is driven by my passionate undying love of two specific characters in one videogame. I either stick them in my head and let them talk to each other, or come up with a situation that would provide them lots of opportunity to talk their way through a situation, or I come up with cool badass things they might do in a fight and figure out how to get them into that fight. This results in very dialogue-driven stories and/or plots designed to frame a particular moment of badassery in the hopes that it will be epic enough to linger in someone's brain the way it has haunted mine.

If we're talking from a technical perspective, I love subjective first person narration passionately, but I also love the 3rd person perspective we get in-game, so I try to balance that by keeping it in 3rd person semi-omniscient but allowing characters to tell their own stories verbally as much as possible, only slipping into internal thoughts when I feel like it's needed from a logistical standpoint.

70. Are you subscribed to any writers on AO3?

Yes, and you are one of them, @synnthamonsugar. <3 My subscription count is currently at 23. Not all of the subscriptions are to writers (some are to individual works I especially want to keep track of in case they are updated), but most of them are writers. I collect anyone who writes Drifter or Eris in a way that pleases me and I keep them like a treasure hoard, rushing off in glee to read when they post and delighting in their things. I am always on the lookout for more delicious stories, though, so while I do comb through the search fairly regularly looking for new shinies, if you have recommendations, I would love to hear them.

#writing #ask game #ask me more things!

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tsarinatorment · 2 years ago

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I want to say that i honestly adore your fanfics, they are so lovely, with a proper dose of angst, and sometimes comfort and fluff 💌!!!!

I want to write my first fanfic, i am a bundle of nerves, how was it for you? Also, do you have any tips? For now i am aiming for a oneshot, but i would actually love to write multichapters in future (T_T)

Aah, thank you, anon!

I've been writing and posting fics for thirteen years (my first posted fanfic was September 2009) so I have to admit my memory is a little hazy on the exact emotions surrounding it, but let me see what I can dredge up.

It was a multichap. It's still up on both FFN and AO3 because I don't believe in taking down my old stuff - it's a document to how much I've improved over the years - although I consider it highly cringe-worthy and never look at it myself any more. I wrote the whole thing out on paper because I was only allowed to be on the computer for an hour a day back then and painstakingly typed it all up whenever I got the chance before posting it onto FFN.

The biggest thing I learned, posting that, was to write what I wanted. I had a really enthusiastic reader who kept throwing suggestions my way and I ended up changing my pre-written fic to follow all of their suggestions because I got too excited that someone liked it. Not only did that person disappear off the face of the earth before I finished the fic, I was actually left pretty unsatisfied with where it had gone by the time I was done with it. That's one of the reasons I don't re-read that fic.

So, tips: write what you want to. It's something I see around the internet a lot and it's absolutely correct: the best fics get written because you want to write that fic. When you write to please other people, it feels kinda hollow and empty after a while; there's instant gratification if the person who you're trying to please says they like it (and if they don't respond at all, you deflate like a lead balloon really fast), but in my experience, everything I've written to please someone else are the ones I like the least. In some cases, I wish I hadn't written them at all.

My best works, the ones I look back on and love months, years, later, are the ones I wrote for me. I share them online because I want to, and yes, it's always disappointing when I don't get any response from readers, but that story's worth isn't tied into external validation.

If you're casting about for ideas on what to write, there are options. Prompt lists exist, if you work well from prompts (I personally use prompts as short exercises most of the time). If there's a common trope you see but there's something slightly different about it - write that! If there's something you really want to read but you've scoured the archives and there's nothing there that scratches that itch - write that! Or if there's a common trope that you love and want to have a go at - there's nothing wrong with that, either! It doesn't matter if it's been written to death; if someone likes that trope, they will scour the archive looking for every single fic and devour all of them. As an author, I like twisting tropes/prompts etc., but as a reader, honestly I love reading the same thing written by many different people.

Also, for the first-time posters: remember that it won't be perfect. No matter how much you slave over the editing and reading and re-reading, there will be mistakes that you will not spot until you've posted it up for the world to see. Don't beat yourself up over them. Obviously, do your spellcheck, your grammar check - if you can handle it, get a beta (I, personally, cannot deal with people picking my stuff apart so I suck it up and do all my own editing, but for some people betas are a lifeline; you'll learn over time what works best for you). If it's riddled with errors, people won't read it, but they will forgive odd small things.

And really, it is scary throwing things out into the internet for people to look at. Even now, I get nervous about how people are going to react to my latest stuff, although in my case, it's now because I know I have a few people who do read everything I write, and I'm always worried about disappointing them, but to start with (and whenever I dip into a new fandom), it's the fear that I've broken some fandom taboo I didn't know about, the fear that I messed up a characterisation, that no-one will like it.

Things you can do to try and get the best reception: Tag correctly. If you tag it with a bunch of irrelevant characters/genres/tropes, all you're gonna do is irritate people. I don't know which fandom you found me through, anon, but in the Riordanverse fandom, mistagging is rife and I know it's infuriating a lot of people, so. This mostly applies for AO3 but is also applicable to tumblr:

Fandom: tag it. If it's a crossover, tag all of them. If it's part of a huge universe that has several subsects, tag the overall one (e.g. "Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Works") and then only the relevant subsect(s) (e.g. Heroes of Olympus).

Rating: AO3 gives useful guidelines for this; don't tag something as general audiences if it's got a lot of swearing, blood and injury, serious angst, nsfw, don't tag as explicit if it's completely soft and there's nothing at all, etc. It's mostly common sense, if in doubt always err to the higher rating because we're always better safe than sorry.

Warnings: Warnings are important. Sometimes, you don't want to warn for something that's a major plot twist (I do this sometimes), and in my personal view that's okay as long as you use "chose not to warn" on AO3 if it's an archive warning, or "additional warnings apply" if it's not. Never say there are no warnings at all if there's something you're trying to hide. If you don't know if an archive warning applies (I never know where the line is for violence), again, use "chose not to warn".

Relationships: Tag the major ones. If it's a oneshot, you can probably tag any that have any relevance, for multichaps I prefer to go minimalistic and only tag the relationships that are a main part of the story, like the ones that involve the main character(s). Remember / is romantic and & is platonic/familial. Don't mix them up!

Characters: Again, tag the major ones. For oneshots you can probably get away with any character who does something in the story. For multichaps, again, keep it minimal. A lot of authors don't do that but as a fan of generally minor, obscure characters, I find it hellish going through their tag, see them tagged on a fic, then realise that they have all of one line out of 100k words, and I know other readers who feel the same way. I'm still waiting for AO3 to add in a distinction between major characters and background characters... Regardless, if a character doesn't do anything in the fic, do not tag them.

Otherwise, just tag genres, tropes if you've used any - lots of fandoms have their own little trope tags so look around and see what gets used frequently. But don't tag wall it; people will skip over a tag walled fic. Trust me.

Titles and summaries suck to come up with, I'm well aware, and I'm not the right person to give advice on how to do those because after thirteen years I'm still clueless and hate those the most, but things to not include are: bad grammar, "fic is better than the summary" or other negative remarks about yourself/the summary, and begging people to read and/or comment. Those are the first thing people see - and if they don't like what they see, also the last thing people see as they scroll past.

But, really? Just have fun. Fandom is supposed to be fun. It's not a chore, it's not something any of us do because we have to. If you're not enjoying it, take a break. Do something else. It's nerve-wracking putting a little piece of you up on the internet, something you put time, effort, and love into, but it's connecting with other people. It's fun, it's a way to make friends with similar interests to yours.

This got long, so I'll leave it here for now; I hope this helped, anon, and good luck with your writing!

#Anonymous #fanfiction #i never expected to be asked for advice like this i hope i did okay

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

Text

Dancing With Danger

Batboys x Meta!Reader HC/Imagines

Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, Suggestive Themes

Author's Note: Edited another story for y'all! Enjoy! -Thorne

Dick:

His feet hit the fire escape, and he cursed himself at his carelessness. He shifted, trying to pick his feet up before it happened, but he was too late; he thrashed, pulling away from the metal railing that was curling around his ankles, but the second they wrapped around his thighs, he knew he was done. Still, he struggled, fighting even as the railing wrapped around his wrists and waist, effectively pinning him to the wall. He grunted, heaving with all his might, hoping that he could find some slack within the metal, but he couldn’t, then he heard an amused chuckle from above.

“You sure fell for that one, didn’t you, Nightwig?”

He craned his neck up to see her on the ledge he’d just jumped from. His eyes narrowed into a glare and she lowered down; her feet hit the metal platform and she sashayed over to him.

He rolled his eyes and deadpanned, “Nightwing.”

She put a hand to her ear, a smartass smirk playing her lips. “Sorry, Nightwig? What was that?”

He growled at her. “Wing. Night. Wing.”

She put her hand to her chest in mock apology, nodding. “Right, right. Nightwing.” She grinned and stepped up to him, reaching out a hand and tracing at the raised symbol on his chest. “But back to my original question…you really did fall for that one.” She cocked her head to the side as she leaned against the railing. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one out of the family?”

“I am.”

“Really? From the way you leaped without looking first, you could’ve fooled me.”

He tugged at the metal around his wrists. “It was an accident, it won’t happen again—” He stopped, glowering at her. “When I get out of here, I’m going to—” His words stuttered as she pressed herself up against him, draping her arms around his neck, slipping one of her legs between his hips until her thigh was nestled against his front.

One of her hands fell away and twirled the hair that brushed his cheekbones as she repeated, “When you get out of this?” She waved the hand, and he felt the metal tighten, then a piece came up and circled his neck; it wasn’t tight enough to cut off the air, but just enough to feel the pressure and he gasped despite himself.

Her eyes narrowed in amusement and she whispered, “I’m afraid you’re not going to get out of this one, Nightwing.”

She hummed and leaned close, lips brushing against his cheek as she said, “You’re stuck.” He raised his head a little, swallowing thickly, as he tried to get comfortable with the metal around his neck. “Man, you look like a lost puppy.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you don’t know what to do.” He opened his mouth to retort but shut it when he realized that she was right—he didn’t have anything, his mind was blank, and it must’ve shown on his face because she grinned and murmured, “And there we go…you know I’m right.”

He inhaled deeply before clearing his throat. “So, what are you gonna do to me?”

She reached up and traced his jaw. “Hot man in a skintight black and blue suit, helplessly pinned to a wall? I could think of a few things.” The finger she was using to trace his jaw shifted slightly and traced his bottom lip. “You and I could break a sweat for a few hours.” Her head dipped towards his ear and she smirked as he shivered. “Ravish each other’s bodies until we’re slick with sweat and collapsed chest to chest.”

When he gave her no response she pulled back and peered at him a moment before huffing and bopping his nose. “But you really don’t look all that into what we’ve got going on.”

She pulled away, leaving him missing her warmth, and she waved a hand, the metal around him uncurled, freeing him. “So, I’m just gonna go on my merry way.” She slipped over the railing and climbed up to the ledge.

Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, a hand reaching out as he called, “Wait!”

She stopped, turning around, a smirk on her face. “Yes, Nightwing?”

“What if I was?” he asked.

“Was what?”

He swallowed thickly, suit suddenly feeling skintight. “Into it. You know…you and me…breaking a sweat…ravishing each other?”

She hummed and winked at him. “I guess we’ll just have to wait for the next time you get careless.” She pulled something from her pocket and waved it around. “Thanks for the souvenir, cutie. It’ll go great on my wall.”

His eyes widened at the sight of the Batarang in her hand and he patted his pockets. “How did you—”

She winked again. “If you can catch me…I’ll tell you.” She mock saluted him as she took off. “See you later, pretty boy!” He huffed a laugh, feeling the grin work onto his lips as he jumped the railing, climbing the ledge, and taking off after her.

Jason:

His feet sunk as he sprinted in the gravel of the electric station. His hood had been lost a few moments before, cast off somewhere in the forest he’d been chasing her through, but he didn’t care; he was too focused on catching her and bringing her to GCPD.

He saw her up ahead, simply standing still, face directed towards the sky, and he skidded to a stop, pulling out his guns. “Look doll, I don’t want to hurt you. But if you wanna dance? I can dance.”

She turned around, and the grin she wore made his stomach clench, and he wasn’t sure if it was from apprehension…or arousal. “Really? Because I don’t think it’ll be much of a dance between us, Red Hood.”

He narrowed his eyes as he thumbed the hammer back on his pistols. “Why’s that?”

She motioned around him. “Look around you, Casanova…you don’t realize where you’ve just run into, do you?”

He looked around for a second, then his eyes widened, and he muttered, “Oh shit.” His eyes darted back to her, and he raised the guns, but it was too late.

She waved her hand, and they went flying off somewhere he couldn’t get to. He stepped back, intent on fleeing when something hard hit his back. There wasn’t even time to glance behind him as hands moved involuntarily over his head.

She tutted as she walked towards him. “And that, Casanova, is why you don’t where gloves with metal plates in them.” She paused, tipping her head to the side. “Well, I could control you even if you didn’t have metal gloves.”

He paused, staring at her as she stood up in front of him. “…The iron in my blood.”

Her eyes widened in mild surprise and she smiled. “Not many people can get that one. Well done.” She reached into her pocket and pulled something out, raising it and shoving it into his mouth. “Have a cookie.” His eyes narrowed, and he tried to spit it out, but she placed a hand over his mouth and laughed at the glare. “Relax, Casanova, it’s a chocolate chip cookie…not poison.” His eyes were still narrowed, but he chewed slowly, and she snorted as she pulled her hand away. “You’re kinda stubborn.”

He swallowed and bit out, “It’s one of my charms.”

She smiled at him and lifted her hands, rifling through his pockets; he let out a grunt and tried to pull away, but a metal cord wrapped around his strong arms and broad chest, stopping him. “Good news for me then.” She stopped, pulling out whatever it was she was looking for. “I like stubbornness.” She winked. “Makes sex fun.”

His eyes widened and he stopped struggling in favor of gaping like a fish. “I…What?”

She snorted and looked down at the tracker, tapping a few buttons before crushing it in her hand. “I like stubborn men because it makes sex fun.” She looked at him and tapped his forehead. “Did I get through the central brain function this time?”

He blinked and leaned as far as he could. “You…want to have sex…with me?”

She nodded, eying his body with no shame whatsoever, and he felt his body flush with desire under her gaze. “With a body and thighs like yours? Who wouldn’t want to have sex with you?”

He smirked at her answer and cocked his head up. “You let me out of this, and we can take this to a hotel. I promise I won’t disappoint you, doll.”

She huffed a laugh and reached up, running her hands up his suited stomach as she quipped, “Is this before or after you hand me over to GCPD?”

His muscles flexed at the feel of the pressure and he murmured, “Before, of course. I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I left a woman unsatisfied.”

Her eyes narrowed and she tipped her head up, resting her chin on his chest; he gazed down at her, their faces inches apart. “Sounds hot. But as much as I’d love to roll around with you all night…I have no plans of sitting in a jail cell.” She paused; her hands splayed along his chest as she asked, “You gotta S.O.S. button I can activate for you, Casanova? I’d hate to leave you defenseless.”

He scoffed at her ‘concern’ and nodded. “Device in my left thigh pocket.” Her eyes never left his as she reached down, unbuttoning the pocket before pulling it out and clicking the button. She dropped it on the ground and brought her hand up, ‘accidently’ brushing the inside of his thigh with her hand; he sucked in a breath that sounded distinctly like a groan and she let out an amused hum.

“Sorry Casanova, my hand slipped there.”

He chuckled and murmured, “Oh, I’m sure it did, doll.”

For a moment he was sure she was gonna hit him, then she gripped his chin in her hand and pulled him into a searing kiss. His eyes went wide then she shut, just as she grinned and stepped away from him.

She cast him a wink and turned, walking off, but stopped when he breathed heavily, “So, just out of curiosity…if we happen to do this tango again…can we do it in a bed next time?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Only if I get to top.”

He smirked at her. “I’d love to see you above me, doll.”

She winked at him before turning back around, swaying her hips as she walked off; she waved, calling out, “I’ll see you the next time we dance, Casanova.”

Tim:

He fumbled with the change the barista had given him before he finally grunted exasperatedly and shoved it into the tip jar; she blinked, stunned at the action. “Um, Red Robin? You just put all that change in the tip jar.”

He nodded, handing her the thermos. “I know.” He motioned to the can. “Put the java chip Frappuccino in the cup and we’re square.”

She nodded, taking it from him. “But are you sure you don’t want your change? You literally gave us like eighty dollars in tips.”

“I just want my coffee. I really don’t need the money.”

She shrugged, but made his drink, and a few moments later he was stepping out of the Starbucks and moving down the alley. He brought the cup to his lips when the sound of someone coughing behind him made him whirl around, his Bo staff already clicked and extended. He only had it in his hand for a split second when it whipped out of his grip, flying against the wall.

It dropped and he capped the thermos, setting it down before he raised his hands, ready to fight. “You.”

He barely had a second to react before his back hit the alley wall, his staff pinning shoved into his chest, holding his back against it. He struggled, trying to push it out of the way. When it didn’t budge, he tried to crawl out from underneath, but it curled, digging each end into the wall underneath his arms. He stopped struggling and sighed, realizing that he was caged and not able to slip out.

She stepped towards him and picked up the thermos, winking at him. “Me.”

He grunted, trying to reach for the cup. “That’s mine.”

She snorted at his vain attempt and uncapped it. “Mine now, Red.”

He groaned as he watched her take a sip. “Why would you hurt me like this? You know my weakness is my coffee.”

She nodded as she swallowed and brought the cup down. “And pretty girls who manipulate metal.” She winked. “Don’t forget that one too.”

He grumbled in annoyance but acquiesced. “Yes, yes. Coffee and pretty girls who manipulate metal make me weak in my knees.” He glared at her as she took another sip. “Happy now?”

She nodded. “I’m getting there.” She shook the cup. “When I finish this, I’ll be very happy.”

He whined at her. “C’mon…don’t do me like this.”

“You’re so cute when you whimper.”

“I’m not whimpering.”

“Alright puppy. You keep telling yourself that.”

He whined once more when she took another sip. “I’ll do anything if you stop drinking my coffee.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and capped the thermos before lowering it and walking up to him. “Anything?”

He nodded frantically his hand reached out to grab it. “Anything. Just let me have my coffee.” She kept it out of his grip, only letting his fingers brush it and he groaned, looking at her. “Please?”

She smirked and reached up, taking his chin in her hand; she leaned close and pressed her lips to his. She laughed internally as he groaned against her, his hands no longer reaching for the cup, this time trying to get a grip on her suit to yank her against him. She felt his tongue dart against her lips, and she opened her mouth for him, letting him slip his tongue inside. She let him have his way for a few seconds before she pulled back; he chased her lips until she rested her pointer finger against them, effectively stopping him.

His breath was hot against her finger and she tapped his mouth quipping, “For someone who wants coffee so badly, it seems to me like you want to make out a helluva lot more.”

He grinned, giving her full view of his pearly white teeth. “Would it help more if I told you I wanted to drink my coffee, then make out with you in the movie theater balconies?”

Her eyes narrowed in amusement and she twirled away, uncapping his thermos once more. “It probably would.” She gestured to him. “You get outta that and find me in the balconies and we can continue where we left off.” She waved as she stepped off, sipping his coffee. “Bye Red.”

After a few moments, the bent Bo staff dropped to the ground and he jerked forward, taking off in the direction of the movie theater, his heart hammering in his chest as a face-splitting grin crossed his lips.

Bruce:

She collapsed into the lawn chair on the roof, tugging off the pants and overshirt she wore until she was left in her underwear and bra. She groaned, feeling the heat crawl over her body, and she raised a hand, making a piece of metal spin like a ceiling fan until it blew a breeze.

The air it gave off barely staved the sweltering humidity and she groaned once more. “It’s. Too. Fucking. Hot.”

She heard an amused hum beside her, and she cracked an eye open, seeing him standing above her; she grunted and waved him away from her. “Oh, go shove it, Batman. You know I love playing two-person-push-ups, but it’s too hot to play right now.” Another amused hum followed and she rolled over onto her stomach.

She turned her face to the side and glared up at him. “How are you not dying of a goddamn heatstroke right now? I know you’ve gotta be sweating under all those titanium plates.”

He shrugged. “Suit has a built-in cool layer. I’m in the middle between starting to sweat and not.” He paused, looking around, then added, “It’s about a good seventy-five out here.”

She groaned, reaching down to grab her glass; sipping it, she motioned to the pitcher and empty glass. “I figured you’d show up sometime tonight…have a drink if you want.”

Surprisingly, he poured himself a glass and sat beside her. “Why are you out on the roof?”

“‘Cause my fucking AC broke.”

“You can’t fix it?”

She glared at him. “I manipulate metal, Batman. I don’t fix things.” The corners of his mouth turned up and she closed her eyes, whining, “It’s so hotttttt!”

A few seconds later, she felt a cool breeze run up her body and her she moaned, digging her face into the chair. “Whatever you’ve got going, Batman…it feels great.” She received a chuckle in return, and she mumbled, “If you even think about trying to arrest me, I’ll crush your head in that metal helmet you’ve got on. You hear me, Batman?”

He hummed at her. “Mhm. Don’t worry. I’ll take pity on you simply because you’re hot.”

She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “Well, thanks for saying.” She winked. “Is that the reason you like sleeping with me?”

He huffed a laugh and tipped his head. “I like sleeping with you because you like sleeping with me.” He peered at her. “And you’re a mystery I can’t figure out.”

She flipped over onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“You have the ability to manipulate metal and magnetic fields…I like to know what makes people the way they are, but I can’t figure out why you have the ability.”

She shrugged at his answer. “I can’t answer the question either…as far as I know, I’m the only one in my family who can do this.”

He was silent a moment, then inquired, “Why don’t you use your abilities for the good of society? Why do you do the things you do?” She met his eyes and stared at him.

“Why not?” He blinked, a little stunned at her answer as she continued, “Not everyone wants to be a hero, Batman.”

“You want to be an anti-hero then?”

“I kinda have the same mentality as Red Hood. Fucking with criminals is so much more fun than working with them. Except I’m not trying to save everyone.” She paused. “And I mean that in a pranking sense not a sexual one.” She huffed and dropped her head back. “I really don’t feel like discussing our moral ambiguities right now, Batman.”

“What do you want to discuss?”

“How you’re planning on fixing my AC for me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll stop sleeping with you.” She raised her head back up and grinned at him. “And I really don’t think you want to stop sleeping with me.” He stood up from his position and stared down at her, then held out a hand; she glanced at it before looking back at him. “What?”

“Want to get out of the heat?”

“And where is ‘out of the heat’?”

“My apartment in the city.” He flashed her a smile. “AC keeps the place a solid sixty-five.”

She arched an eyebrow at that. “We’ve never tangoed in anyone’s apartment other than mine.” She peered at him, suspiciously. “What’s your game, Batman? You gonna tell me who you are or something?”

He said nothing, just kept the hand out until she rolled her eyes and reached out, taking it. His hand curled around hers and he tugged her up; she hit his chest, her other palm going flat against it.

His arm wound around her waist holding her close and he murmured, “If I told you who I was right now, without taking off my cowl, would you believe me?”

She gaped at him before recovering and flirted, “Hold onto your secret for a little while longer, Batman…I like the game we have going.” He smirked and she wiggled in his grip. “Either get me somewhere cold or let go. I’m starting to sweat again.”

He released her, stepping away and motioning to the apartment complex off in the distance. “Blue building with the neon billboard on top.”

She nodded and leaned down, slipping on her clothes, then slipping on the metal cuffs around her wrists. She walked beside him, letting her hand come up the back of his thigh as she murmured, “I’ll see you there, Batman.”

He watched as she rose from the building, making her way across the city before he huffed and jumped down the alley, sliding into the Batmobile and starting his drive towards a pleasure filled night.

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