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neoangelic · 3 years

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POETIC BEAUTY || (OLD VER)

PROLOGUE. (RETCONNED AS A PILOT)

🖊 SUMMARY: Jung Jaehyun never really appreciated poetry. Yu Hayoung appreciated his beauty with poetry. One day, those poems go missing.

🖊 PAIRING: jaehyun x f!oc

🖊 WORDCOUNT: 3,006 words (ish)

🖊 NOTE: i might have a bunch of fics that will tie into the NCIT universe. chapters will be called “pages.” all writing (poetry) is mine unless otherwise said. check below for a text post of the poem. EDIT: THIS IS NOT CANNON! REVAMPING THIS COMPLETELY

MASTERLIST | POEM (TEXT POST)

His muscles tensed the cloth of his white tee-shirt, the wrinkles contracting and drawing lines across his shoulder blades and down his spine like sinew. His arms stretched toward the ceiling, sleeves rolling back to show his biceps. Before I was caught staring, I averted my gaze onto the warm, freshly-printed paper in my hands. I couldn’t believe I wrote a poem about Jung Jaehyun’s birthday being on Valentines day when I’ve never even talked to him. What was worse was that it wasn’t my first time doing that either. I muttered a silent prayer to thank any god that was listening that I didn't end up in the same peer review group as him. It would be more than embarrassing to discuss a poem I wrote about a hot guy with the hot guy himself. Of course, I would probably lie about the subject matter of the poem. That it wasn’t about Jaehyun and how irresistible I’ve been finding him for the past couple of months. That it wasn’t about how he was so perfect that even his birthday had to be stupidly romantic. Most definitely. It wasn’t like it was fully about him. Instead, I’d describe it akin to Achilles in the eyes of Patroclus. How someone so close to you could feel so far away—how Achilles was Greece’s hero more than Patroclus’s lover. About a longing, a satiation that could never be fulfilled.

Jung Jaehyun was radiant. His hair caught halos of light and his eyes sparkled like stars upon moving waters. I was just so-so. Someone who took English and writing classes for fun while others took it for the requirement. In fact, this would probably be the only class I’d ever have with him. After the semester, we would be as good as strangers. Not saying that I’d be forgetting that dimpled smile of his anytime soon. With about 200 other students in the heat-trapping lecture hall, I didn’t hold any expectations or try to act upon any of my feelings. I was merely being an opportunist in order to (in simple terms) write good shit.

“Should I talk to him for you?”

Kim Doyoung’s bright eyes and hushed tone pierced me like the morning rays through window blinds. “No, not at all. That would be horrible.”

“Horrible?” He said, leaning forward. “You’re like obsessed with him?”

“Okay,” I rolled my eyes. “Obsessed isn’t the word.”

“You write thirst poems about him.”

“Shut—” I glared, “they’re not necessarily about him! Just inspired by him. I’m not delusional, it’s not like I’m writing out my daydreams—he’s just—just a muse.”

“A muse,” he mused.

“Yes.”

“But you agree that they’re thirst poems?”

“Just this one, and the prompt was ‘infatuation’ get over yourself.” I rolled my eyes, looking Doyoung up and down from his neatly combed hair to his converse sneakers. “Your shoes are untied.”

He kicked his feet underneath the graffiti-fied desk, looking under. “No they’re not.” Gottem. The boy blew air from his cheeks, exposing his bunny-like front teeth and sweaty forehead. His bangs fell down and stuck to the beads annoyingly. “You’re awful. I take it back, I’m not helping you no matter how much you ask.”

“Luckily, I’m not gonna,” I clicked my tongue, mouth dry. “But your hoodie string is uneven and it’s bothering me. Don’t look at me like that—I’m telling the truth this time! Fix it.”

Doyoung sighed, pulling at his hoodie string. “Where are the other kidos?”

“Dunno. Did you check the group chat?” I said.

"One person said they were at their second cousin's funeral, the other two said they had to celebrate their 100 days, and Renjun just slept in."

The first one was definitely a lie.

"Of course he did. I could never double major, especially in astrophysics—and what did he have yesterday? A 9pm lab class?"

Doyoung grimaced. “Horrible.”

“What was the point in coming to class if everyone was going to make excuses not to?” I slumped on the desk, running my fingers over the grain of the paper. “Did you even finish?”

He smiled, glasses without lenses lifting with his cheeks. “No?”

I swatted at him, “guess we’re just going to meet at a cafe again sometime this week.” It wasn’t a big deal. For me, it was more time to write whatever I wanted. For Doyoung it was more time for him to run his mouth about gossip, acting like we were actually discussing something about the class.

“So…”

“So what is it this time? I’m all ears,” I rummage through my messenger bag, feeling around for my writing journal’ s leather binds through folders and books and paper.

“So, I was talking to Taeyong the other day…”

My hands skimmed the canvas of my pencil case, and the pens strewn around lazily, and the tubes of lipstick. I brought out a pen with golden etchings that you’d twist to open.

“Oh, so you’re talking to him again?”

“I’m telling you, I swear to god it was him that touched my code at the club room.”

“Yeah, yeah…but you’re delusional, though? What if your code was just messed up from the start?”

“Are you going to listen or should I leave you alone?”

“I’m listening,” I searched pockets and zippers, bringing my bag up to my lap and peering into its void-like opening. I squinted, delving in once again in my search, looking for its red cover. It shouldn’t be hard to find. Everything else I owned was black or brown. Or white. Or grey (if it was a gift from Doyoung.)

“As I was saying, Taeyong and I were having a conversation, and we see Yuta—Yuta Nakamoto. He’s also in the sharehouse. So he has these tarot cards—”

My hands and eyes skimmed through surfaces. A book. A pencil case. Lipsticks. A wallet. Some wrappers of gum—oh, I still had some gum! And, finally, there should be…

No fucking way.

“What?”

Did I say that out loud?

“Yes.” Doyoung said roughly. “And you keep interrupting my story.”

“Doyoung.” No fucking way. “I lost it.”

“Lost what? What did you—” his face dropped. “No fucking way!”

“Shut up!” I elbowed his side, glancing over at Jaehyun, who of course didn’t spare a glance back even with Doyoung’s ruckus. “I was at A Cup of Coffee earlier, studying, and lost track of time because I was enjoying my mint choco latte—”

“Enjoying a what?”

“I. Was. Feeling. Adventurous,” I glared, aggressively unzipping my jacket. I ran my hands through my dampened hair, hoping to find some solace of cool breeze on my skin. There was none to be found. Doyoung fanned himself with the collar of his ex-crisp white t-shirt. It was already a hot and humid day and it just got a lot warmer. “I had all my shit on the table because I was writing in the book earlier because you know that I have a deadline coming up for my anthology and I need to keep writing so that I can actually get something done. And I guess—I guess it fell out when I was rushing to pack and leave.”

“Were you sitting inside or outside?”

“Outside! There’s no room inside, like ever!”

“That’s as good as gone, then.” Doyoung knitted his eyebrows together, tapping his pen on the table. “It’s been a couple of hours, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah, a good four.”

“Wanna still check?” He looked up at the clock hanging on the wall, its ticking hand teasing its way through the last minute of class time.

I looked at him as students began pooling out the lecture hall, leaving a trail of body-heat. “God, yes. Please.”

Doyoung and I rushed over as the mid-day sun glared into our eyes. We glared back through the gaps of our fingers as we covered our sweaty faces. Jisung Park was always kind enough to give me free cookies whenever I stopped by A Cup of Coffee. (Which was often). Hopefully he was kind enough to have picked up my journal when I left it because there wasn’t much hope of finding my journal when we got there. All the outdoor seating arrangements were squeaky clean. The metal chairs burned our fingertips as we tried looking all over for my journal. I shook my head.

Doyoung groaned as he tried to open the front door, “I think it's closed.”

“I got this—” I rushed forward, banging on the glass, too hopped up on adrenaline to worry about it shattering. “Jisung! Are you in there? It’s Hayoung!”

I knocked louder as I spotted a head of blonde hair. Jisung stirred from his nap at the register. He rubbed his eyes, grimacing at the sudden intrusion of peace. Definitely tipping him extra the next time I have a writing session here. He looked at me with furrowed brows, pointing to himself as if to drowsily say: Me? What?

“Yes, you!” I pointed to the door. “Can we come in?”

Realization must have set in for him. It only took a few seconds for him to unlock the door and usher us inside.

“Hayoung sunbae-nim, whats wrong?”

“I left a really important notebook behind.” I fanned myself. “It’s red leather. It has pretty much all of my writing that I’m considering for my exhibition piece.”

“Have you seen it?” Doyoung sat down, accepting the water Jisung offered us.

“I think I have? You had it out when you were working out there earlier.” He said, carefully. “But I don’t think you left it behind.”

“But this is the only place I put it down.”

“I think you packed it up, there was nothing when I cleaned outside. I would’ve called.”

“I still can’t believe you lost your simp book, Hayoung.” Doyoung took a large gulp of water. “That’s the one thing you always make sure you don’t do.”

“I know! And it’s not a simp book!” I snatched my water bottle and plopped down next to him. Jisung pulled up a chair to sit with us. “It just so happens that the contents of my pieces are inspired by a very specific thing—”

“Someone—”

“Look.” Maybe it was the heat but the tips of my ears felt like they were on fire. My stomach felt as if it was boiling, each bubble of acid popping, burning my insides. I found it hard to steady my breath and my voice grew louder every second from the building pressure in my stomach. “It’s not my fault I entered a slump. I just—it just comes so naturally now—writing. It used to be so hard that I wanted to even quit, and it tore me apart every day. And my professors tore me apart too. It was so hard hearing them lose interest in my writing. And now that I’ve finally found a way to enjoy writing again, I get distracted for one day and lose what was going to be my life’s work!” I wanted to swallow the words back into my mouth. Everytime I tried, the lump in my throat grew larger.

“My god, Are you crying?” Doyoung leaned in.

I flinched, slapping his arm. “If you ask someone if they’re crying then of course they will.” I said, now crying.

“Sorry.”

“I’ll get you a tissue,” Jisung coughed.

“Thanks.” I said.

Doyoung rubbed my back. “You know I didn’t mean it. You’ve showed some of them to me, and I agree—this is the best you’ve written in ages. It might be important for you but I know you’ll do fine without it. It’s okay, Hayoung.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Look, I’m sure nobody likes to read. Anything. So, the chances are that someone will snoop through is low. They wont want to steal a journal either.”

“What if I can’t write without it.” I sniffled.

Jisung brought over a box of tissues and a cookie. “I don’t know fully what this is about, but you’re always in here to the point that I have to kick you out so I don’t work overtime and I’ve already given up on kicking you out over breaks.” He gave me an awkward but comforting pat on the shoulder. “I’ve never read anything you’ve written but I can tell that you work really hard on it, and I don’t think that’ll ever disappear.”

“Jisung is right. Even during your writer’s block, you still were able to come up with some profound shit that I could never think of writing in my lifetime.”

“Thanks you two,” I picked up the cookie, breaking it into pieces to offer. They declined. “And Jisung, you always make the best cookies.”

“The batter is pre-made, but I try.”

“Wait, really?” Doyoung said. “Wait, no—Hayoung, I’m sure we can find it if we keep looking.”

“But I haven’t begun to transfer the stuff over to my laptop.” I nibbled on my cookie. Doyoung’s phone buzzed on the table. I watched the crumbs on the plate dance around.

“I’ve seen you crunch out a thesis-length paper in a weekend with nothing but Mountain Dew and coffee. I’m sure you can work something out.” Doyoung picked up his phone.

“I’ll look and ask around on my breaks too,” Jisung said.

“Hayoung, Renjun wants to know if he can meet up with us right now.” Doyoung said.

I looked at our resident part-time cafe worker for permission, dabbing my eyes with the tissue he gave me.

Jisung sighed, ready to pull up another chair. “Just this once.”

When Renjun arrived, Jisung was wrapping up his break, making sure there was enough coffee in the back and preparing the newly discovered pre-made batter to make more cookies. Renjun didn’t question why we were in A Cup of Coffee during its break hours, or why Doyoung and I were so sweaty that we were fanning each other with our poems that we were supposed to workshop. He didn’t question why I had my stuff sprawled everywhere because I tried looking in my bag another hundred times, or why Doyoung had his stuff everywhere because I had convinced him that my journal could have fallen in his bag somehow. He did, however, do a double take after seeing my face.

“Rough day today?” He said, taking Jisung’s old seat. “Wait. Were you crying?”

“Doyoung you didn’t tell me my makeup was running!” I gasped, rummaging through our table of paraphernalia for my makeup pouch.

Doyoung picked it up and passed it to me. “You looked like you were going through enough. Oops.”

I whined at my racoon-like visage in the mirror, mascara accentuating my already heavy eyebags. I thought it was supposed to be waterproof. Never buying that again.

Renjun took out his laptop, decorated in stickers so colorful it looked like a toddler’s scrapbook. But like, in a good way. “Well, I think you look very artistic.” He said.

There was a long pause filled with his typing and the sound of the blender going off.

“Thank you,” I said once Jisung stopped blending. It smelt like cherries. You know what else smelt like cherry? Jung Jaehyun. Oh god, I didn’t even like cherries. “I’m going to die if I don’t find it.”

“Find what?” Renjun said.

“The notebook!”

He stopped typing, “The notebook?” Renjun took off his glasses. “No wonder you were crying. Doesn’t that have all you writing from this semester?”

“Yes, and it’s also all about Jung Jaehyun.” I confessed. I trusted Renjun. It wasn’t like he went to lecture that often.

“Jung Jaehyun from our class?” Renjun’s mouth dropped open.

“Yes, Jung Jaehyun from our class—granted most of them aren’t directly about him, but if someone finds out, it’s going to be so… awful!” I groaned. “I don’t know where I dropped it. I thought I left it here.”

“I mean, as someone who didn’t know it was all about him—really, all about him?”

“Inspired, but yes. Exclude a handful.”

“I couldn’t tell.” Renjun said. “But, I do have to ask…why? How? You like him?”

“It’s complicated.”

His laptop was fully closed now. I could tell he wanted to know the juicy details of my deep, dark secret. I could also tell that Doyoung was hiding a grin at the story to come. Renjun gave me his puppy-dog eyes.

“Fine.” I gave in. “’ll tell you, but why weren’t you at class today? I thought you always tried to attend mandatory workshops.”

“It’s complicated.” Renjun echoed.

“I'll tell you my story if you tell yours? Deal” I said.

“Deal.” Renjun said.

We looked over at Doyoung who was trying to listen into our conversation. Not that we were trying to be silent about it anyway. Jisung even came over and told us he could hold the shop cold for thirty more minutes so that we could finish our conversation.

“Why are you both staring at me like that?” Doyoung put his hands on his hips defensively. “Why?”

Renjun clicked his tongue. “If we both have something to tell, then you have to tell us…”

“What happened to the blind date your mom set you up on, and how is that related to why you can’t go to our favorite bulgogi place anymore?” I slammed my hands on the table.

“I’m not going to tell you that!” Doyoung mirrored my action.

“Then leave, hyung!” Renjun said, backing me up. “It’s only fair.”

“But I know about Hayoung’s thingy about Jaehyun!”

“I’ll tell you how I first met him—And it wasn’t during poetry.” I blurted out. “That’s the real start of it all.”

Doyoung glared at both of us. He sat back down cautious, looking like a cat with its hair raised. “Fine.”

Renjun and I high fived. I looked over at Jisung, who was shaking his head at the whole situation. Poor thing, he was going to get to know all of us against his will.

“And Jisung gets to know all this for free if he gives us an hour, and we’ll help him at the back later until closing.”

Jisung shrugged. “Works for me.”

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wiypt-writes · 4 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch49: An Old Friend

Intro: After five years of more or less domestic bliss, Katie’s fear that their peace will be one day shattered comes to fruition as a man they long thought dead appears at the compound.

Warnings: Bad Langauge. Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: And so we begin the Endgame timeline...and as with all the parts, it has it’s own little banner as made by the talented @angrybirdcr who’s made another lovely edit for me here!

Chapter 48 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

May 2023

“Emmy this room is an utter disgrace!” Steve said exasperatedly as he looked around at the various items of clothing scattered around her bedroom. DVDs lay on the floor instead of in the designated rack, the bed was unmade and various school books were tossed onto the rug instead of at her desk.

“Chill Dad.” She mumbled as she sat cross legged, tapping at her tablet, music blaring from her stereo. “Chill?” He shot her a look “Seriously, we spent a fortune doing this room up last month. Get it tidied.” “Yeah, yeah.”

Steve grit his teeth, jaw twitching with annoyance before, after a moment’s deliberation, he crossed the room and turned off her music.

“Hey I was listening to that!”

“Well, now you’re gonna listen to me.” He stood cross armed looking down at her. “I mean it Emily, get this sorted now, or you can forget going to Philadelphia with Brooke.”

“But, it’s all organised, we leave first thing in the morning!” “It can be unorganised.” His threat was simple but it had the desired effect.

“Fine.” She groaned, tossing her tablet to one side. “Thank you.” Steve replied, sarcastically before he left the room, shutting the door behind him. He made his way downstairs to the kitchen where Katie was prepping lunch, Jamie sat in a chair at the table on a booster seat, colouring in an activity book.

“Look, Daddy!” he pointed to his picture. Steve leant over, one arm on the back of the chair and glanced down at the elephant his son had coloured in purple.

“A purple elephant.” He nodded “Creative.”

“Like in Dumbo!”

“Of course.” Steve smiled, Jamie’s Disney film of the moment. It was one Steve could remember seeing at the theatre before he joined the army. It still creeped him out slightly, the scene with all the drunk elephants. So much so he was convinced the animator had been on some kind of mad drug fuelled trip when he drew it. He ruffled his son’s hair and then moved over to where Katie was slicing up a cucumber for the salad, reaching round to steal a piece as he dropped a kiss to her cheek.

“She tidying it?” Katie asked, her eyes not moving from her task.

“Only because I threatened to stop her going to Philly.” he snorted, leaning on the counter, looking at his wife. He reached into the salad bowl to snatch a piece of pepper and Katie slapped his hand. He grinned as she looked at him.

“Bet that went down well.” “Don’t care. Her attitude stinks.”

“She’s a teenage girl, Steve” Katie smiled. “That’s not the point.” “Honey, just shut the door if the mess bothers you that much.”

Steve sighed, and rubbed at his temple. “I’m surprised the door even opens with the amount of crap on the floor.” Katie gave a little chuckle before she looked at him. “Can you get me the dressing out of the fridge?”

He pushed himself off the counter and opened the fridge. “Caesar or Ranch?”

“Caesar.” She nodded after a moment’s deliberation. “Oh, and the cooked chicken please.” Grabbing them, Steve turned back to Katie and passed her the items, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Do you think I was too strict?”

Katie placed the knife down and looked at him. “Stevie, stop second guessing yourself.” She reached up to run a hand down his cheek “You’re a great dad. All I’m saying is it’s not out of the ordinary for her to have an attitude. She’s fifteen. I was a nightmare at that age, as I’m sure Tony will delight in telling you.”

“Speaking of your brother, what time is he expecting us to drop Jamie off?” “Oh he’s coming to pick him up.” Katie said. “They’re in town anyway so said he’ll be here later this afternoon. I just hope Emmy does as you told her.” “Huh?”

“Because if she doesn’t, you’re gonna have to carry through with your threat. And that means you’ve just flushed our night alone down the lav.” Steve let out a groan, he hadn’t thought about that.

A little while later Katie called Emmy down for lunch. She appeared in the kitchen with a scowl and Katie saw Steve bristle slightly so she decided to get in there first and back him up.

“Straighten your face, young lady.” She ordered sternly as Emmy sat down. “Your dad’s right. That room is an absolute dump.” Emmy sighed and reached over for a warm pitta bread, piling her plate with the salad before she took a deep breath.

“Sorry. I’ll tidy it, I promise.” Steve looked at Katie who gave him a wink as they began to eat.

“Emmy I colourded you a picture.” Jamie pointed to the book which was to his right, out of the way of his plate.

Emmy smiled, and looked at it. “Aww dude that’s awesome. Is it to pin up on my board?”

He nodded and she bopped his nose gently, smiling back.

“I staying at Moo’s tonight?” He asked, turning to his mom.

“Yeah.” Katie looked at him as he picked up a piece of the pitta bread she had sliced into smaller strips for him “Is that okay?” He nodded. “Uncle Nee gives me juice pops. The red ones are my bestest.” “I thought you liked the blue ones?” Steve asked, swallowing his food. “Because they’re the same colour as Cap’s Suit?”

“Red ones better.” Jamie nodded. “Like Iron Man.”

Steve looked at Katie who was biting her lip, trying not to laugh at the look of utter indignation on his face.

“This is good, Mom.” Emmy nodded at the food on her plate. “Better than the incinerated breakfast dad gave us.” Steve half-heartedly glared at his daughter. “I burnt one egg.”

“One too many.” She quipped, and Katie grinned, reaching over for the jug of water. Steve beat her to it and poured her a glass, sliding it over to her before he did the same for Emmy, Jamie already had his in a tippee-cup by his plate.

“Thanks.” Katie smiled at him before she turned to Emmy “Hey, did you get your grade back for your English essay last week?”

“Oh, yeah, I got an A.” she shrugged.

“Emmy that’s great.” Steve nodded at her, smiling.

“Yeah well don’t get used to it. I don’t think I’ll get one again. I may have upset my tutor.”

“Why?” Katie frowned “What did you do.”

“Well, he’s assigned us a book that is totes inappropriate.”

“What book?” Katie interrupted to ask

“The Colour Purple. I mean it’s good but…”

“Yeah, that is kinda heavy…” Katie frowned, having read the book herself. “What’s the angle?” “Race, gender, and bigotry in the early twentieth century. ”Emmy shrugged “I would have thought To Kill A Mockingbird would have been better but when I voiced my opinion Mr Tozer didn’t like it.”

“So what did you say to upset him?” Steve arched his brow.

“Exactly that. And then he told me it was his way or the highway. Don’t worry, I refrained from calling him Hitler.”

“I guess we should be pleased then.” Steve snorted. Emmy flashed him a grin and went back to eating.

The family made chatter for the rest of their lunch until Jamie poked at his mom’s arm.

“Yes, Sweetie?” “I done now. Fankoo.” He grinned, his plate completely cleared.

“You’re welcome, honey” Katie ruffled his hair “Cake?” He asked hopefully.

“What do you say?” Steve prompted gently.

“Please.” Jamie nodded.

“Do you think about anything but food?” Emmy looked at the small boy.

“You know he doesn’t.” Katie sighed. “He takes after your father in that respect.” “That’s not all I think about.” Steve grinned, as he raised a suggestive eyebrow at his wife over his glass of water.

“Yeah well, thankfully he is way too young for that.” Katie winked as she stood up to get the fruit cake she had made the day before to cut everyone a slice. As she did, she had to bite back the smirk as Emmy sighed at Steve’s blatant sexual reference.

“Gross.”

****

Emmy did tidy her room, so she was dropped off at the coffee shop early evening with her bag which Steve was sure contained more clothes than she needed for the four nights she was away. He made a comment to that effect and the fifteen year old just rolled her eyes and explained she needed two outfits a day, just in case. Just in case of what, Steve had no idea, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know if truth be told. He made small talk with Jennifer over a coffee for a while, instructed his daughter to behave and loudly told Jennifer that if she was any trouble to pack her home straight away. Brooke rolled her eyes but gave him a hug goodbye anyway as he left. By the time he had gotten home, Jamie had already been picked up leaving the two parents alone. Steve had been planning to take Katie out, but when he suggested it she shook her head and pulled a magnum of Champagne out of the fridge and held it up.

“I got a better idea.” She grinned “Hot tub party for two and take out.” “Champagne, pizza, you in a swimsuit.” Steve grinned, pulling her to him. “Baby, I’m sold.”

Needless to say there wasn’t much relaxing done in the hour they were in the tub, quite the opposite if truth be told. Hands and lips were all over the place, pawing at skin and kisses being exchanged with avaricious force. By the time they’d called for pizza, Katie was feeling thoroughly defiled as she sat on the sofa, wearing one of Steve’s button downs and tore into a large slice of pepperoni as if she hadn’t eaten for a week. Steve grinned, tucking her damp hair behind her ear and dropped a kiss to the side of her head. They settled down to watch a film, but Katie was flat out before it was even ten minutes in and she didn’t even stir bar to murmur something to Steve when he carried her up to their room.

Steve woke the next morning, wrapped around his wife, her warm body pressed to his chest, one arm under her neck, the other draped over her waist. He sighed in contentment, it was bliss, knowing there was nothing to get up for. No constantly hungry three year old to feed, no lunches to make, no school runs, no meetings until later, nothing. Snuggling into her closer, the arm that wasn’t trapped underneath her swept her hair away from her face, before his lips skated over her jaw and down the side of her neck. As her eyelids fluttered his large, gentle hand trailed down the curve of her hip and slid between her legs, caressing the inside of her thigh. Katie took a deep breath, shifting automatically, still half asleep, spreading her legs a little wider. She rolled her head over her shoulder, blinking and she was met with those blue eyes she loved so much, the owner wearing a devilish smirk.

“Morning.” He rasped, his voice low with sleep and desire.

“Good morning.” She grinned, biting her lip as his hand moved back up over her stomach to her breasts underneath the shirt she was wearing and he began to tease her softly, causing her to moan as he rolled a nipple between his fingers, the sensation burning in her stomach. She rolled onto her back and Steve settled between her legs, her arms winding around his neck as he captured her lips with his, soft and slow before he pulled back to peel his shirt off her body, tossing it down the side of the bed. He turned his gaze downwards, eyeing up her blue lacy panties before he groaned and lowered himself over her again, kissing her and sliding his tongue along hers. Katie wrapped her legs around his hips, grinding against him to get any friction that she could. His hands trailed down her sides and under her back, fingers gently grabbing at the waistband of the lace before he broke the kiss and unhooked her legs from around his waist. He gently pulled her underwear down, shimmying under the covers as he removed the garment and then kissed up her right leg, his lips hot as he made his way from her ankle up to her inner thigh, pushing her legs open wider.

His actions were controlled, slow. There was no rush after all. His mouth and tongue gently worked her to distraction, flicking at her clit over and over. She was a writhing mess within minutes, her hand fisted in his hair, the other grasping at the sheets, the noises flowing freely because they didn’t have to be quiet. Her fingers tightened on his scalp and she gave a cry of his name as her hips bucked upwards, her legs tensing slightly before they flattened against the bed, her breathing heavy and ragged. With a smirk at how easy he could undo her, Steve moved back up the bed, one hand pushing his sleep pants down. Without a word he lined himself up with her, letting out a loud groan as she slid a hand between them, stroking him before guiding him inside. He moved slowly, deliberately, until every inch of him was sheathed. Katie’s eyes rolled back as he stretched her, her groan was loud as he laced his fingers into hers. Steve let out a shaky little whimper as he moved his pelvis slowly, pushing back against her hands.

Every thrust was deep, slow, measured, his mouth moving from hers to her jaw, neck, collar bone. The house was quiet, nothing but the sound of soft cries and kisses could be heard as Steve continued his thrusts, whilst his wife purred into his ear, and he let go of her hands to bring one of her legs up round his hip. She let out a cry at the change of angle as he picked up the pace slightly, but not much, Katie’s nails raking down his back as her pleasure rose. The sensation made him shudder and he doubled his efforts, her hands sliding down, grabbing at his flexing ass, urging him on and, as always, he was happy to oblige.

“Shit, Stevie,” the cry of his name turned into a complete babble which died in her throat as she tightened and pulsed around, him, her body shaking with pleasure.

“God, Doll,” Steve was right behind her as he came with a low moan, his hips thrusting until he was completely spent, his head buried in the side of his wife’s neck.

Katie tipped her head back in satisfaction, sighing softly as Steve pushed himself up slightly. He gently ran his nose up her throat, taking her bottom lip between his and he let out a loud, satisfied sigh of his own. He loved his kids, beyond anything but man he enjoyed being able to take his goddamned time making love to his wife without the patter of little feet across the hall meaning they were about to be interrupted. “Baby,” he said softly, his lips gently smoothing the skin underneath her ear “Hmmm?” She asked, her hands creeping into his hair as her head rolled to the side, eyes still closed in pure bliss. “Look at me, kitten.” She obliged, and emerald green met ocean blue as she held her husband’s gaze. He gave her a soft smile, and she reciprocated, the affection on his face blatantly evident. “I love you,” he said, as she reached up and gently brushed the longer strands of his hair back over his forehead, “more than you can ever know”

“Will that still be the case when I’m old, grey and wrinkly but you still look like you’re straight out of GQ magazine?”

Steve frowned as he looked at her, this wasn’t the first time she had mentioned that. He shook his head and sighed softly, unable to do anything but repeat what he told her the last time she’d raised the issue.

“I told you baby girl.” he gave her lips a quick peck, “it’s me and you till the end of the line.”

After a lazy breakfast, Katie headed off to collect Jamie from Tony’s and Steve made his way into Manhattan for the two support groups of the afternoon. The first one was always the busiest and it took a little longer this week as they had a few new faces. This didn’t surprise Steve, people were still five years later coming to terms with opening up about their heartache or problems, but the core of the group were always welcoming. He had an hours break before the second, slightly quieter group so he took a walk. Their air was damp and there was a gloomy fog descending over the city, making it darker than it would normally be for the time of day, but it wasn’t cold. He grabbed a coffee from the shop round the corner and headed back to start the second meeting.

The meetings always followed the same format. There was ten or so minutes of everyone arriving, grabbing refreshments, saying hello and then they would form the usual circle and Steve would start the discussions with a chat about something he’d done or seen that week that was positive before moving to something he’d done or seen that week that wasn’t so positive, and then invite other people to comment and do the same, gently coaxing them into opening up.

“So, I went on a date the other day.” A man named David sighed. “First time in five years. I didn’t know what to talk about.”

“What did you talk about?” Steve pressed gently, patient as ever.

“Same old crap, you know? How things have changed. My job. His job. How much we miss the Mets,” David paused taking a breath, “then things got quiet. He cried as were serving the salads.”

“What about you?” Another man, Ian, asked hopefully.

“I cried,” David trailed off, “just before dessert,” There was a slight pause, “but I’m seeing him again tomorrow, so…”

Steve gave a small smile. “That’s great. You did the hardest part. You took the jump, you didn’t know where you were gonna come down. And that’s it, it’s those little, brave baby steps we gotta take, you know, to try and find purpose.” He paused and looked around the group, biting the inside of his cheek. “I went into the ice in forty-five right after I met the first woman I’d ever loved. Woke up seventy years later and met the love of my life. She gave me hope, she gave me a purpose, a reason to keep going in the crazy new world I’d found myself in.” He paused again and looked around at the attentive faces assembled in a circle. “You gotta move on. The world is in our hands. It’s left to us guys. We gotta do something with it. Otherwise, Thanos should have killed all of us.”

Steve let the meeting roll for a little longer, everyone discussing what he had said before it came to a natural end and, with a glance up, he saw Katie and Jamie pushing open the door, Katie holding a huge box full of brownies.

“Looks like you’re all in luck!” Steve nodded towards his wife as Jamie ran across to his father who smiled and swept him up into arms, planting a kiss onto his head before replacing him on the floor. He looked over at Katie and she smiled back, placing the box of treats down on the table. She often did this, popped into a few of his sessions over the week with some form of snack for them all when she had time, her way of helping out, and Steve loved her for it.

Over the next ten minutes or so, various people drifted over to the side of the room, greeting Katie and grabbing a brownie. She gave David a hug and cheekily told him to behave on his next date as Steve wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her forehead in greeting as they waved the man away.

“How long where you at the door?”

“Long enough.” She told him, knowing instantly why he was asking.

“I meant it.” He turned to look at her. “Every word you know.”

“I know, and for the record you’re the love of my life too.” She grinned “My husband, my baby daddy…”

Steve smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Gross.” Jamie gagged, sticking his fingers in his mouth, an action he had learnt from Emmy.

There was a pause before Steve grabbed Jamie and launched into a tickle attack until the boy was screeching and running from his dad who chased him round the hall. Katie watched her boys as Jamie feinted left and Steve let him get away, before the little boy dived under a table and out the other side of it, cackling in a way so like his father.

“Don’t think that’s gonna save you, pal.” Steve easily vaulted the table, picking Jamie up, throwing him over his shoulder, patting his backside once with a large hand.

“Momma, help!” Jamie’s voice was punctuated with laughter and with a grin Katie strode forward and her hands went straight to Steve’s sides from behind, and she began to tickle him.

“Oh sh-stop it!” Steve cackled, his ridiculously ticklish nature was always his downfall. He let Jamie down as Katie continued her attack and he whipped round, grabbing her and spinning her round. He folded her arms across her chest, pinning her back to his front as he dropped his mouth to her ear.

“You’re gonna pay for that later.” “Promises, promises Captain.”

****

There was a presence to Katie’s right and she felt the soft weight of a hand against her cheek. It was too small to belong to her man, but the perfect size and weight to belong to her boy.

“James,” a soft, deep voice whispered, warning in the tone, “this is the second time I’ve told you and there won’t be a third. Leave your ma alone. She’s sleeping.”

Katie sighed and stretched. “It’s okay, I’m awake”

Jamie giggled and surged forward giving her a peck before falling back onto his father’s pillow, "Morning Momma!”

“Good morning, Sweetie.” She yawned rolling onto her side, dislodging Lucky who had been asleep with his leg resting on the back of her knees. As ever Jamie had his stuffed Cap bear with him, along with God knows how many other toys all which adorned Steve’s side of their enormous bed.

“Morning, Baby.” Steve bent over from behind her, pecking her cheek too.

“Hey.” She smiled, rolling her head to catch his lips, noticing his bare, damp chest from the shower. “What time is it?”

“Little past seven. Somebody-“ Steve glanced at Jamie, “-was awake at half Five.” “Not sleepy daddy.” “Really, I didn’t notice.” Steve replied, sardonically. Katie chuckled as Jamie frowned, the sarcasm utterly lost at him.

“Momma, we hided in the fort.”

Steve and Jamie had made a blanket fort in Jamie’s room last night in which they had hidden in for their bed time stories. Jamie had insisted they left it up, and considering it wasn’t in the way, Katie had been happy to oblige. Steve, who had gotten a lot better with dealing with the mess Jamie left around over the years had resisted the urge to fold away the blankets and his wife had pulled him out of the room when the pair of them had popped in to check on Jamie before he could change his mind.

“Mighty fine Fort it is too.” Steve ruffled his son’s hair.

“What time are your meetings today?” Katie asked, looking at Steve. His groups ran at different times during the week. This way, it made sure that there was a day or night everyone could attend at least one session a week.

“Last one finishes at four today. Why you ask?”

“Well, I thought seeing as we didn’t see Nat at the weekend, we should pop in.” “Auntie Nat-Nat, yay!” Jamie clapped his hands “Maybe she can come see my fort.” “You should tell her about it.” Steve nodded, before his attention turned to Katie. “Might convince her to leave the compound.” “Yeah, maybe.”

“What do you fancy for breakfast?” Steve swiftly changed the subject.

“I can bake some cinnamon rolls if you want?” “You don’t have to do that.” “I know, but they’re already made so just need to go in to the oven and I also I know someone id going to ask for pancakes and he isn’t having them three days on the run.” “Waffles?” Jamie whipped his head round, hopefully.

“No.” Katie shook her head. “Cinnamon rolls or cereal, your choice.”

“Can I have both?”

“You two will eat me out of house and home.” Katie rolled her eyes. “Yes, if you want both you can have both.”

“Cool, man.” Jamie nodded, in a way that was so like Emmy it made Steve turn back to face his wife from where he had ben stood at the dresser pulling out his clothes, a smirk on his face. The pair of them watched as their son announced he was going to get dressed and dropped onto the floor, heading out into the hallway, Lucky following.

Katie watched as Steve pulled on a pair of sweats and she cocked her head to one side.

“Did you seriously call me Jamie’s Ma before?”

Steve grinned. “Sorry.” “Makes me sound like I’m ninety” she snorted.

“Try actually being ninety.” Steve scoffed, and Katie laughed as he started to crawl over her in the bed, pushing her back gently.

“Hate to break it to you, Captain Badass, but you’re actually a hundred and five.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Steve muttered gently, his lips pressing to hers. She happily melted into the kiss her hands straying up and down his bare chest, before she pulled away knowing that if they carried on she’d be wanting a lot more.

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“This.” Katie pouted.

“I only wanted a kiss.” Steve looked at her, eyebrow raised. “You have a dirty mind, Mrs Rogers.” “Years of being with you.” She shrugged and Steve laughed, standing up. As he headed across the room Katie couldn’t resist one last quip. “Nice ass…daddy” Steve turned round, a wicked grin on his face as he held his arms out at either side of him, as he walked backwards for a few steps. “It’s all yours, momma.” He smirked, before turning round and heading out to help Jamie get dressed.

The rest of Katie’s day was pretty much the same as it always was. She dropped Jamie in at the day-care and headed up to her office for her fifteen minute start up meeting with Soray. After going over her diary for the day, she spent most of the morning sifting through the mountain of emails and responding to the ones she needed to. After a quick chat with Emmy at lunchtime, the girl enthusiastically telling her all about how her and Brooked had run up the Rocky steps and were eating a tonne of Philly cheesesteak, Katie headed up to the boardroom for the Monthly Financial Review. Escaping at little after three, she picked Jamie up and headed to the store to grab something she could make at the compound for dinner. Once Steve was home they all jumped in the car to make the hours drive up state owards the compound.

Steve drove easily down the highway, one hand on the steering wheel, the other laying on the arm rest in between the front seats, whilst next to him Katie hummed along to the John Legend playlist that was playing. Steve cruised the Audi onto the bridge which would take them out of Manhattan and frowned gently as he noticed that the cars ahead were all coming to a halt. As Steve slowed the car down, Katie too narrowed her eyes as people started getting out of their cars, heading to the side of the bridge, pointing.

“Wait here.” Steve instructed, climbing out of the car, Captain mode engaged.

“What’s happening?” Jamie asked.

“Daddy’s gone to see.” Katie turned to smile at him before she turned back, watching Steve approach the side of the bridge and speak to the nearest man before looking down. His mouth dropped opened and he turned, jogging back to the car.

“You’re not gonna believe this!” He shook his head, excitement all over his face as Katie climbed out of the car. “Come see.” He opened the back door of the car and unstrapped Jamie from his seat. Picking him up in his arms, Steve made his way to the side of the bridge, wife by his side and he pointed downwards.

Katie felt herself gasp at the sight- a small pod of whales leisurely making their way through the Hudson River.

“Wow.” She whispered.

“What are they?” Jamie asked

“Whales.” Steve replied. “Humpbacks, I think.”

Steve tried to keep the smile on his face genuine, but he hated it when Jamie saw something out of place in the new world that he was born into which would have been perfectly normal in the world that they once knew. Whilst a pod of whales in the Hudson was an astounding sight for sure, and would have been unheard of even before the Snap, the fact that it was Jamie’s first time ever seeing a whale made him slightly sad. They had been a pretty common sight around the ocean waters in and around the bays leading out into the North Atlantic. That was until Thanos had killed half of them.

Jamie giggled and pointed out that the biggest whale was being followed closely by a slightly smaller one, and then an even smaller one after and then a tiny one.

“Daddy, Momma, Emmy and Jamie.” He smiled at Steve who chuckled, smoothing Jamie’s hair back.

“Come on Kiddo, let’s go see Auntie Nat” When they arrived at the Avengers compound, the sun was just beginning to set. Steve drove round to the rear entrance and the gate creaked open as the ANPR scanners recognised the car. He parked the car in their old designated spot before he collected the bag of ingredients from the trunk that Katie had bought to make dinner with. Together the three of them headed inside, FRIDAY welcoming them all as they made their way towards the living area, and they could hear Natasha closing up a meeting.

“Nat,” Rhodey’s voice was almost pleading but Nat cut him off

“Please.” She begged.

Katie had a feeling she knew what she was talking about, or rather who. She glanced at Steve as they rounded the last corner to the large meeting-slash-living room and it was then that Katie could hear Natasha trying to stifle her cries. At that point Jamie ran in and jumped onto his Aunt’s lap hugging her tightly.

“Don’t be sad, Auntie Nat-Nat.” He whispered, and Natasha took a deep breath, leaning her head against her nephew’s with her eyes closed hugging him back.

Steve leaned against the bookshelf for a moment as Katie walked into the room, taking the bag of ingredients off Steve as she took in the sight of Natasha’s dinner of a peanut butter sandwich which rest on top of the table.

“You know, I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem miserable enough.” Steve opened, looking down at her with a smile.

“So I’m gonna do it instead.” Katie smiled, holding up the bag she’d brought, dropping it onto the table. “Chicken stew, dumplings and chocolate cake for after.”

Natasha looked at them, a smile playing on her face as Katie sat down across from her. “You guys here just to feed me?”

“And to see a friend.” Steve shot back.

Natasha leaned back into her chair, Jamie still on her lap. “Clearly, your friend is fine.”

“Bull.” Katie mimicked her stance, eyeing her. Natasha avoided her gaze and the room fell silent.

“You know we saw a pod of whales as we were coming over the bridge.” Steve broke the silence, changing the subject.

“In the Hudson?” Natasha raised her head slightly, sounding impressed.

“There was a Jamie whale and a daddy whale and a momma whale and an Emmy one!” Jamie gushed and Nat smiled.

“I haven’t seen whales in the Hudson ever, even before.”

"Well, there’s fewer ships, cleaner water.” Steve shrugged

Natasha sighed looking up at the ceiling. “You know, if you’re about to tell me to look on the bright side, umm, I’m about to hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich.”

“Sammich?” Jamie looked up hopefully and Natasha tore off half of one side before passing it to him.

“Sorry.” Steve sighed pushing himself off from the bookshelf, his jacket slung over his arm. “Force of habit.”

He tossed his keys onto the table, dropping his jacket over the back of a chair before sitting down next to his wife, glancing at Jamie who was now eating a small piece of the sandwich, then at Natasha. The woman looked tired, pale and such a far cry from the stoic, well-groomed Natasha Romanoff he had first known. But then again, they were all a far cry from the people they had once been.

“You know, I keep telling everybody they should move on, and forget what happened.” Steve crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair. “And some do. But not us.”

“If I move on, who does this?” Natasha asked simply with a shrug.

Katie sighed. “Maybe it doesn’t need to be done.”

“You know, I used to have nothing. And then I got this- this job, this family.” Nat smiled sadly and looked down at Jamie before she looked back up, the tears evident in her eyes. “And I was better because of it. And even though they’re gone, I’m still trying to be better.”

There was a pause as Katie wiped her eyes, a tear having escaped down her cheek and Steve gently placed his hand between her shoulder blades, rubbing softly.

"I think we all need to get a life,” he joked, breaking the sad silence, and Natasha forced a smile nodding to him.

“You did.” At her words, Steve gave a smile. She was right, he had. Whilst he and Katie had been extremely lucky over the last five years, that didn’t stop them thinking about the people that hadn’t, and the friends they had lost.

Katie reached for the bag she had placed on the table. “I’ll go start dinner.” She was mid-way through standing when a small, holographic screen popped up in front of Natasha indicating she had a notification of sorts. She flicked it to the side, bringing the video feed to life behind Steve, who looked over his shoulder as the video began playing.

“Oh, hi, hi! Is anyone home? This is, uh, Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport, in Germany. I was small, then I got real big.”

Katie left the bag where it was and whipped round, to see Scott on the screen, stood in front of his van. Besides her Steve stood from his seat, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“This…this is impossible.” Katie breathed, shaking her head. “He was…”

“Is this an old message?” Steve asked, his voice quiet, not taking his eyes off the footage.

“Ant-Man! I know you remember Ant-Man.”

Natasha’s reaction was much the same as theirs, confused awe as she sat up, breathing deeply. “It’s the front gate.”

“I really need to talk to you guys!” Scott continued to yell his voice becoming desperate.

The three of them remained frozen for a moment, absolutely lost for words, before Jamie broke the silence.

“Who’s that?” He asked, jumping down from Nat’s lap. “An old friend.” Steve swallowed, turning to Natasha who was fishing in a drawer for the key to the main gate which had been padlocked shut for years as no one used it anymore. She found it, tossed it to Steve and he caught it expertly before heading off to go meet Scott.

**** Chapter 50

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #katie stark #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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aphrodites-law · 5 years

Text

My Favorite

Trope: Soulmate marks.

Twist: Lexa doesn’t have one. Clarke does.

1/?

Lexa had lost her soulmate when she was eleven years old. The two words that she had cherished and daydreamed about for years had one day simply vanished, leaving behind no trace they had ever been imprinted on the inside of her wrist. Overnight, her life had taken an unthinkable turn, and if the whispers behind her back had not been enough to rock her self-esteem, if the bullying and the taunting hadn't broken her, it was her friends cutting ties with her that had felt like the most painful loss.

Her parents had had to put her on the registry for the Markless, which she'd always found to be ironic, as it painted the biggest mark on her yet: outcast. The Markless had a flaw; a part of them so fundamentally wrong that they couldn't truly love, nor be truly loved in return. Few people cared to mingle with them, as history had proven them to be the criminals of this world. And if they hadn't done their crime yet then surely they would, one day, and rare were those who wanted to take the chance to be in their lives when it happened.

Lexa didn't know what it meant for her or what she'd done at eleven that had made her so undeserving of love, but she'd refused to let anger consume her. She'd kept her head low and kept her arms covered, even in the summer, and for the next eighteen years she'd lived her life as best she could.

In the city, blending in had been easier. There were apartment buildings for people like her, and though they were rarely the safest, Lexa had been happy enough in her studio. She'd met her first true friends in years there, and then a few more in college, where minds were more open than in her small town. Some simply didn't care, others refused to buy into the fear mongering, and Lexa clung to them tightly, grateful for their affection and their flaws, the ones that society had marginalized as well.

Her closest friend was Anya - tough like nails and no-nonsense - who Lexa had met while they studied in the hopes of one day teaching. Yes, sometimes it was a wonder to Lexa as well that she would willfully step in school classrooms again, but how would the world ever change if the new generations weren't taught differently? Lexa had long ago found refuge in language and literature, and if she could one day extend a hand to a child shunned by their peers, if she could be the teacher she had needed in her teenage years so many times, it would be worth the pain of reviving old wounds. As for Anya, she wasn't markless but had gotten pregnant from an encounter with a markless partner, which had brought her family so much shame that she'd started finding the entire system loathsome. She'd had her daughter's name tattooed over her mark, packed their bags for the city and never once looked back.

The decade had seen some improvements for people like them - and the world was changing, even if slowly. There were programs started to facilitate their lives and more inclusive spaces offered. There were even dating websites, and if Lexa had once been embarrassed to even sign up, she now relied on them exclusively. Her college girlfriends might have been open-minded, but it'd never changed the words imprinted on their wrists.

Layover was perhaps the word Lexa detested the most in the English language, as people like her were the first ones to suffer from it. There had been Costia, first, who Lexa had loved as best she could, even as a broke twenty-year-old with full-time studies and two part-time jobs, but it had only lasted a year, until Costia had taken a linguistics class and met the girl whose first words to her were marked on her skin. In her defense, Costia had broken the news gently–and Lexa had loved her enough to be happy for her, though perhaps not when she had felt her heart plummet into her stomach.

Lexa had wondered afterward if it was true what they said about the Markless: if she had been able to let go of Costia because she was unable to truly love. When she had asked Anya about it, the woman had shrugged and told her one relationship was hardly strong enough proof.

Louisa had whirled into Lexa's life over a year later, but left just as quickly when another student had tapped on her shoulder and uttered the very words Louisa would sometimes mumble in her sleep. Lexa had been walking out of the class auditorium with her when it had happened, and she had felt herself freeze on the spot. After all, she'd spent enough nights in the same bed to know what words were on her girlfriend's wrist. Louisa had been so flustered that she'd babbled something back, and evidently the curly-haired boy who'd asked her a question had heard back the words imprinted on his own wrist, his smile spreading so wide that Lexa had felt sickened by the sight. She'd gotten blackout drunk for the first and last time that night and woken up on Anya's couch.

Afterward, Lexa had refused to waste her time. She dated a few markless women during grad school, but the relationships still naturally ran their course, and each time Lexa had wondered if the whispers were true: People like her couldn't know true love.

Which, inevitably, led to the second most detested word in Lexa's vocabulary: settling. It was a term that the Marked had coined some centuries ago, aimed at those who built lives and started families with partners they knew weren't their intended. It happened, of course, that in this world many didn't meet, but hope was to be maintained until one's last breath. There were records of couples meeting as old as 101 years old, and so whoever didn't wait was poorly regarded, though never as poorly as the Markless, who inspired fear rather than pity.

Though she didn't care for the word and its connotations, settling was something that Lexa had accepted for herself. It was clear by now, at 29, that she should seek a markless woman who shared her values and had a compatible lifestyle. It wouldn't be the love that movies and songs wrote about, but it could be a strong bond regardless - companionship - and together they could even have a family. It was seeing Anya around her daughter, Tris, that had planted the first seeds of yearning for a fuller life and someone to share it with.

It was with the very intention of settling that Lexa had packed her bags and moved to her dream city, much smaller in scale and population than the one that had offered her so much, but a place with a progressive enough reputation that Lexa knew she could be happy there. Anya had helped her with the move - a two hour drive away that both her and Lexa had felt weigh heavily on them. It would be the first time Lexa was far away from the friend who had, by all means, saved her life more than once.

When Lexa had applied for a teaching position at the Polis private middle school, it had been with Anya’s full support. She had coached her through the high-brow interview process and then celebrated when Lexa had officially been offered the English teacher position, to be started in two months for the new school year. For once, the stars had seemed to align.

That was, at least, until Lexa had stepped into her new apartment and realized just how strongly it smelled of fresh paint. On her first night alone, Lexa had woken up so dizzy that not even a morning walk had lessened the feeling. She’d resigned herself to the fact that her new place would be inhabitable for at least a week and had quickly found a hotel to stay in for the next few days.

Jake Griffin was the proud owner of Griffin Hotel, a warm place with under thirty rooms and a distinctly cozy appeal to it. It was not luxurious but still well-kept, with a room near the foyer for the breakfast buffet and another sitting room with armchairs, a bookshelf, and a view on their garden. Lexa had only taken one suitcase up to her room, but after Jake had left her to it, she’d felt oddly compelled to walk for a bit before she turned in for the night.

She put on her comfiest sweater and wandered out of the hotel, finding her way to the garden and enjoying the soothing sound of the small fountain there. Through the window to the sitting room, she could see the bookshelf standing tall and wondered what titles she would find on the spines of those old books. She went back inside and walked into the room, but stopped when she found that there was someone sitting on one of the armchairs.

She couldn’t be any older than Lexa, with her hair in a loose up-do and her legs curled up beneath her. She was completely absorbed in a book, an edition of Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café so worn that the cover was only kept on thanks to three paperclips. There were notes sticking out of it and some ink stains on the edges of the pages. Lexa felt a sudden thrum of excitement at the prospect of a shared interest.

"I love that tomato,” she said offhandedly.

Her eyes widened as she realized the moronic string of words she had uttered. The woman’s head snapped up and Lexa felt her cheeks grow hot when she noticed her bewildered expression.

"That novel, I mean," Lexa quickly corrected. "It's a good one. Wonderful."

The woman blinked at her and when, finally, her mouth parted open, Lexa was so certain that she was about to say something that she couldn't help but feel disappointed when she merely nodded instead. But her disappointment quickly vanished when the woman’s face suddenly broke into a smile; one so sweet that Lexa felt herself smile right back.

When she motioned for Lexa to sit, Lexa promptly did.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted anything," Lexa said. "You seemed so engrossed."

The woman shrugged. Lexa wrung her hands on her lap. "It’s actually the first book I ever borrowed at a library.”

At the woman's arched brow, Lexa felt that she had been asked to elaborate. "I was nine. It was summer and I was wildly bored."

The woman suddenly sat up and pinched both edges of the book before showing the considerable space between her fingers. Lexa understood her meaning and smiled sheepishly.

"Yes, it was definitely too dense and mature for me. But I loved the world. Then I got obsessed with frying my own tomatoes - my mom never forgave me for setting her new pan on fire.”

The woman laughed, a soundless expression that made her eyes crinkle and her tongue peek out between her teeth. Lexa had accomplished many things in her life, but making this woman laugh felt like her proudest moment.

"Clarke?"

Lexa recognized Jake in the doorway, looking over at the woman in the armchair and then yawning loudly.

"I'm turning in. You need anything, hun'?"

Evidently, Lexa had stumbled upon Jake's daughter. When Clarke lifted her hands and signed something with them, Lexa thought to smack herself. She had been blabbing without once wondering why Clarke didn't respond verbally.

Jake chuckled at something Clarke signed. "Fair enough. Goodnight, kiddo."

After he left, Lexa stood up and cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry, I-” She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I've been talking your ear off and you probably just wanted to read in peace."

Clarke looked up at her with a curious expression, one Lexa couldn’t read at all.

“Hm... goodnight, then.” She smiled weakly and walked out of the room, already reaching for the bedroom key in her pocket.

Though she felt like an idiot, Lexa couldn’t resist one glance back before she turned the corner. She found Clarke looking at her with a soft smile, her expression so full of wonder that Lexa knew she would not be able to forget it.

Part two

#clexa #clarke x lexa #clexa fic #f: my favorite #soulmate trope #just spitballing

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lukaafrancesca · 4 years

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Writing Tips: A Master Post

These are writing tips, rules, and habits that I picked up over the years. This is just what works for me, not necessarily what will work for everyone. As with ALL writing advice, if anything I say here deters or discourages you from your writing, DO NOT LISTEN TO THE ADVICE AND WRITE HOW YOU WANT TO WRITE. Advice is supposed to help you get better where you feel you’re lacking, not prohibit you from doing something you like. Remember that even if your goal is to write for a wider audience, if you hate writing, you’ll never finish, therefore anything that makes you hate writing needs to be eliminated from your life, or at the very least, eliminated from your drafting phase of writing. Write for yourself and your happiness first and foremost, especially in the first draft. That’s you. That’s personal. That’s joy. If you’re already having fun, don’t listen to a word I say or read any further until you’re seriously considering refining your story into something you want to sell. Disclaimer: While I have won prize money for poetry, I am by no means an expert author, nor am I officially published yet with any sort of prestige. If authority matters to you, there are plenty of published authors that also have guides on how to get your work published. While good advice can come from anyone, it is important to disclose that I am not an expert and I do not have a fool-proof plan for how to write well or how to be published. This is just a collection of what I’ve learned over the years and things I think would be important to my younger self. So without further ado, writing advice. Outlining: While I don’t outline the way you might have learned in English/Literature class in school, I do have a similar process. For my writing, I create an appendix/guide/glossary type of thing. It’s a collection of key words, characters, places, items, and events written specifically for the story or the world my story is set in. I know they call it a "Bible" when it comes to TV shows, but I'm not sure the term applies to writing books. But you can call it your project bible. I call it my project appendix, but I know the term isn’t quite right, so for the remainder I will refer to it as “the project bible.” This is where you write down everything important that you want to be in your book, even details that you don’t want to reveal expressly to the readers. Someone has a mother that they don’t know is their mother? Write it in your project bible. Have a Magic McGuffin that does something super special that your reader is only supposed to find out about in the eleventh hour? Put it in the project bible. Have a really nifty idea for a scene? Put it in the bible. I do this so that I don't forget details and accidentally write down contradictory information. You can do this with or instead of a general outline or as part of your brainstorming phase when plotting ideas for your book. Remember to revisit the project bible often to add in characters you created spur of the moment or to add in any cool ideas you think up while writing. While you shouldn’t add to the project bible during your dedicated writing time so you don’t disrupt your flow, if it’s a detail that’s not relevant to your current chapter, you should definitely write it down if you’re habitually forgetful like I am. But what I prefer to do is to write a note at the end of the current chapter and add it to the project bible when the chapter is finished. Beginning Writing (and the First Stumbling Block): Once my project bible is more or less complete, I start writing from the beginning. Then I get stuck and have writers block and cry. Then I play video games to cope with my performance anxiety. Then I wait 3 months for inspiration. This is the stage you want to avoid. Don't be like me. Instead, set a schedule. Have one or two hours a day set aside to write. I find I do best when I write first thing in the morning. This time is JUST for writing. Do not do research during this time, do not check social media, do not add to the project bible at this time unless absolutely necessary. You sit down and write and you do not stop for anything except the bathroom or an emergency. You do not backtrack. You do not rewrite. You do not read back what you wrote. You just write. If you get to a detail you're not sure of or a word you can't spell just get as close as you can to the general idea, write in a symbol or an uncommon letter pattern (TK is the standard) so that if you're on a computer you can Ctrl+F back to that spot during the editing phase. Write during that hour or two non-stop until you finish the chapter. You can keep going from there if you have lots of time dedicated to writing, but once I finish a chapter, I go into the Alpha Edit. If you have lots of time dedicated to writing and you’re in the flow, DO NOT STOP. Stopping is what gives you time to be self-critical, and that’s a major stumbling block for me. If you have the flow, DO NOT STOP. If your dedicated writing period is longer than 4 hours (and it may be because 2020 is a hell year and some of us don’t have jobs right now) remember to get up, stretch, drink water, and consume calories. But if you can avoid breaking your flow without detriment, DO IT. Flow is one of the most important things to writing, and a good flow can have you cranking out 50 pages in a single day if you’re lucky. Good flow can see you finish a short story in 3 days. My good flow days are the most valuable to me. When they come to you, do your best not to waste them.

Alpha Editing Phase: Once the chapter is done, reread it. Out loud is best so you can check the flow. If you stumble across a word, rewrite the sentence so it flows better. If you have any TK notes or words you want to change, this is the time to do research and change the notes. You do not have to do this during your scheduled writing time, but doing it during that time helps keep routine and trains your brain to want to write during that time. Just remember that if you do your editing during your writing time, you should try to work on writing your next chapter during at least half of your dedicated writing time. If you find something inconsistent with your outline or lore, change it. The editing phase is the ideal time to consult your project bible, add notes to it, and check for inconsistencies. If you have to "delete" something, DO NOT DELETE IT. Copy and paste it into a deleted scenes file with context (surrounding sentences) in case you want to use the idea or sentence somewhere else or want to change back to it during the final edit. If you're changing the sentence, that's fine. Most sentence changes only need to change the specific words but not what’s actually being said. But if you delete a sentence or paragraph or scene or passage, save it with context. You can keep it just for you, or you can refer to it during a later edit in case you change your mind again. Once you have all your spelling correct and all your TK notes filled with the proper information you have some choices. You either continue on to the next chapter if you're writing a book to publish all at once, or you move on to your beta reader if you're serializing your work. Beta readers come in after your book is done or after the chapter you want to publish is done. Beta Readers: After your alpha edit, get a few people to look over your work. All of them can be friends and family, but beware of "yes men." If your friends and family only ever say your work is good, find a more critical audience. While it’s nice to have praise, if none of your beta readers ever ask you to change anything, you run the risk of missing things that are detrimental to your work like errors with tone, clunky exposition dumps, writing about a sensitive subject without any sensitivity, and many other stumbling blocks. A beta reader can be your friend, but they shouldn’t ALWAYS put your feelings over the quality of your manuscript. A quality beta reader will sometimes butt heads with you, and it’s important you listen when they do. While a beta reader does not replace an editor, editors cost money, and a good beta reader will save you some time with your editor if you choose to hire one for your work when it’s completed. A beta reader’s primary usefulness is that their fresh eyes will catch spelling and grammar errors you and your software might miss and they'll be able to check for issues with tone, consistent lore, tedious exposition, run on sentences, and a myriad of other details that you might not be able to catch. After the beta readers, you do a Beta Edit. You take all that advice you got from your betas, decide whether to follow it or not, and then change whatever you need to about the story. After that, sit on your “finished” chapter for a week. Do not look at it, do not reread it unless you need to check a plot detail for a future chapter (which should probably be in your outline/ project bible anyway but not everyone uses an outline.) Basically do not look at or think about your "finished" chapter for a week. This is so you yourself have fresh eyes when you revisit it. The "Final" Edit: I say final in quotes because serialized work may need to be retconned or edited in the future so the edit might not always be final unless it's for a completed book. During the final edit, you read it one last time, aloud. Ideally, your book will be done for this stage, but if you publish through a site like Inkitt or Tablo, the urge to serialize a work to get feedback is very strong in the digital age and I don’t blame you at all for wanting to publish a finished chapter to get feedback before your actual book is finished. (Please be wary of the terms and conditions of the site you choose to publish to if you publish a serialized work through a publishing site. If a site mentions having exclusive rights to your content, it’s not a good idea to publish through them if you plan to publish the final work through a different venue or seek traditional publishing and are using the site for archival and viewership purposes.) If you didn't have an outline before, write one as you read back your work. If you have one, make sure, as you read, that it's consistent with the outline. When you're done read the outline and make sure everything you wanted in the book/chapter is in the book/chapter, make sure the lore is consistent, make sure you like it. Make any final corrections. Check your deleted scenes and make sure there's nothing that you want to keep in there. You may choose to keep your deleted scenes file, as I do, but you may also wish to delete it once the book is finished. While either of these choices are entirely yours, remember that every deleted scene is still something you put work into, and there’s no shame in recycling some of the prose into a later story with different characters. Publishing: Decide whether to pursue traditional or digital self-publishing. On scams and more check here. Digital Self-Publishing: Amazon is a tempting option, especially because many readers will search for books exclusively on Amazon because they are one of the cheapest options around and even if you publish traditionally, your publishing house will usually still sell through Amazon. While I personally don’t like Amazon on principle for it’s poor treatment of warehouse workers, it is worth considering that Amazon’s competitors are not well known and you have very little chance at success when Amazon is the leading name in online book and eBook retail. If you decide to go with another online publishing company, make sure they don’t have exclusive rights to your work so you can bail if a better offer comes along or if they start going under. Signing a contract or publishing exclusively limits you so if you do decide to go that route make absolutely sure you trust the company you’ll be making your business partner by publishing through them. If you decide to publish through Amazon as an E-Book, I recommend doing it yourself. Don't pay for a service that does it for you (I mentioned Inkitt and Tablo and while I do use their services for sharing my work with friends and the public, I would not elect to publish through them since the only benefit to me is that they can do the hard work for me and I’d much rather do it myself.) You can buy your own ISBN numbers and commission cover art from artists so really there's nothing you can't do yourself when it comes to self-publishing, you just need to know-how. Make sure you have the right to use the image you have on your cover, either by designing it yourself, commissioning it from an artist or photographer, or by using a royalty-free image. Remember that some fonts also require royalties if you use them commercially! Double check that you have the rights to use the typeface you have on your cover and in your book. Keep in mind that if you want to have a physical copy of your book that you need to check that the digital publishing service you choose has a print-to-order option. Amazon does, but not every site will. The Cons of Digital Self-Publishing: If you self-publish, don't expect to sell more than 1000 copies without doing some SERIOUS advertising on your own. Digital self-publishing has the perks of letting you keep more of your profits and rights, but it also has it’s downsides, namely that if you want to maximize profits AND sell more than 1000 copies, you need to do all the legwork yourself. A bookstore won’t just buy your book to put on shelves just because it exists, especially not stores like Barnes and Noble. Find the small, local bookshops in your area, get a couple books printed off and ask if they’d like to host an event for your book release. Tell everyone you meet that you wrote a book and show off your personal copy. Find online book groups and advertise there (Remember to advertise often, but not more than, say, 3 times a day for a week. There’s a point where getting the word out becomes blatant spam and spam will reduce and not increase interest.) If your local library takes donations, get a copy printed and donate it. Offer free or discounted copies to YouTubers that do book reviews in exchange for reviews and feedback. Have a Patreon or website where people can find you. If you’re willing to shell out cash and take risks, pay for ads/promoted posts on Facebook and other social media outlets. Go out to events in your hometown or nearby cities and promote the hell out of your book. Rub elbows. Keep a couple signed copies in your trunk and go ham. If you see someone reading a book, start up a conversation, ask them about their book. If it’s anything like yours, tell them that you’ve been reading a good book recently and name drop your own book if you think they won’t remember you or talk about a similar book that inspired you and let them know you wrote a book of your own. You’ll have to bust your tail for it, but if you do it right, you can get your book out there. Traditional Publishing: If you publish traditionally, be aware that you will get many, many rejection letters. Before seeking traditional publishing, research the publishing house and the industry standards. Many times, they won’t even look at your manuscript if your book is “too long” or “too short.” That doesn’t necessarily mean you should change your book to fit industry standards, but it does mean publishing will be much harder if you don’t fit the standards because very few publishing houses will look at your work unless you know someone who can put in a good word for you. Even if you meet industry standards, expect rejection letters because you’re a first-timer and “a nobody” and most publishing houses get thousands of manuscripts every day and they’re going to pick manuscripts that seem like they’ll make money, or manuscripts from authors they already know, not necessarily manuscripts that are actually “good” writing. A rejection letter is not a reflection of your skills. It’s a badge of honor. You wrote a book and someone looked at it long enough to decide it wasn’t for them. Increase your odds of getting published by focusing a lot of energy into your first chapter, first paragraph, first sentence. If you have a good opening sentence, the person reviewing your manuscript will read more. If you have a good paragraph backing up that first sentence, they’ll go in even deeper. If your first chapter slaps and intrigues, then they’re on the hook wanting more. A publishing house is much more likely to accept your submission if the person who reviewed your work sinks some time into reviewing it. If you get them hooked with the first chapter even if chapters 2 and 3 suck, that reviewer is much more likely to look for the GOLD you put into chapter 4 or 5 when you really hit your stride. If your book doesn’t catch them with chapter 1, even if chapter 5 is absolutely on par with the classics of Shakespeare and the modern greats George R.R. Martin, they’re never going to read that far if chapter 1 sucks. If you get an acceptance letter, huzzah! Work with your publishing house on the final details. Usually a publishing house will do cover art and pay for the advertising necessary to market your book, but not all of them, which is why doing your research is important so you know what to expect. More Detailed Advice: If you have writer’s block try to write anyway. Remember that your first draft will be trash and you can delete anything you don’t like later, but you can’t edit or improve on work that you don’t have finished. Getting it written is way more important than getting it written well. Because, as I said, you can’t work to improve something you don’t have. Getting it on paper is the biggest hurdle. After that, editing is just a matter of reading and rereading, tweaking words and sentences, comparing what you wrote to your outline, and asking for advice from beta readers. Putting it all on paper might take you far less time than editing, but it is, to me far harder. You can pay people to edit your work. There are professional editors out there. But no one can get it on paper like you can, even if you can pay for a ghost writer, because your vision is entirely your own and only you know what you want out of your story idea. Things to Try When the Writing Doesn’t Come: Coffee, water, snack, nap, walk outdoors, bounce ideas off a friend, write a 100 word short story off a prompt and then try again. Any or or all of these shouldn’t take up more than half your scheduled writing time. Sometimes the reason you can’t write is because you’re trying to hard, and these small breaks can make a world of difference, not to mention coffee helps some concentrate, hunger and thirst are distractions even if you don’t feel hungry or thirsty, and time spent just walking and clearing your head in nature can refresh your mind and give you a level head since working through frustration rarely leads to good results. A 100 word short story gets your brain writing something with the focus away from your book, something your brain may see as a monolithic and intimidating task, and distracts it with something short and fun. Once you prove to your brain that yes, you can write right now and once you’ve already started something, it’s easier to make your brain keep working on the next thing. Bouncing ideas off friends can help you figure out why you’re stuck or help you remember that great idea you had for your chapter last night but forgot after you slept. A nap can clear your head and let you relax and you have time alone to think instead of write. If all else fails, try to write just one sentence, take a 15 minute break, and then come back to continue writing. Tried That, Can’t Write: If, for whatever reason, you CAN’T write no matter what you try, no matter how much you force it, take a break. Try again the next day. If the next day doesn’t work, give it a week. After a week if you STILL can’t write, reread what you have written backwards. If you stumble somewhere, edit that section. If ALL of it is either “good enough, but I still can’t continue somehow” or you just hate all of it, ask yourself a few questions. “Is the scene I’m writing important? What does the character accomplish in this scene and does it HAVE to be this scene? What does this scene reveal about the plot, the characters, their motivations, or the story at large. What will this scene mean for the characters in a future scene? What does the character learn here or what do the readers learn in this scene? Is this scene a payoff for something set up in a previous scene or does it bring closure to a subplot or character arc? If you find positive answers, reformat your chapter around those answers. “Yes this scene is important because it’s where the MC learns to believe in themself.” Great, go back and make sure everything in the scene reflects that and keep moving forward from that perspective while keeping the next goal “The MC’s first success with Plot Thing A.” in mind. Keep this scene focused on the MC believing in themself while working toward their first success. If the scene isn’t important or nothing’s really happening, skip or delete the scene/chapter and move on to the next interesting scene where you find positive answers to those questions. Remember that even if you don’t plan on keeping the scene when you decide to delete it to add it to the deleted scenes file just in case, you may be forgetting a critical plot point or a good idea in the deleted section that you might need later and you’ll be grateful you saved the segment later on. This and more to try here. When You Just Hate Everything You Wrote No Matter What: Read something that inspired you before. Or watch a TV show or movie that made you want to write. Send your work to your beta reader early for feedback. Or, deal with the source of your anxiety. Are you hating it because you feel like it’s not impressive to others? It’s similar to impostor syndrome. You like the writing, but you hate reading it because you think other people will hate it. Send it to a beta reader and find out for sure. If they hate it, that’s fine. You can fix it. If they love it, GREAT. Now you know that at least one person out there likes it. More people will like it. Don’t let the critics in your head tell you otherwise. Do you hate it because you think you can do better? Then do better. Put the scene in the deleted scenes file. All of it. Every part that you hate and the context around it. Dump it. Start over fresh. If you hate that too, compare and see if you hate it less than the old version. Go with the version you hate least, or combine all the parts you hate least and move on until you figure out an even better way to write it. Are you hating it because you never wrote a scene like that before and it’s just really hard? Read stories or watch movies that do the thing you’re doing in a way that you like. Find out why you like it. Try to replicate that in your scene. This and more about writing anxiety here. “Said is Dead” and Other “Bad” Writing Advice: “Never say said! Use other verbs to convey HOW the character is saying something! Yelled! Sobbed! Laughed! Growled! Whispered!” Most of us got this in grade school. And sometimes they’re right. There’s a difference in tone when you use “‘Hurry up,’ he said.” versus “‘Hurry up,’ she growled.” But if your characters are just having a dialogue, unless there’s a tone you need to set, you CAN use “said” and other plain words. I prefer not to, because I either use taglines like “‘That’s better.’ He smirked, walking across the room.” or I don’t use taglines at all “Really?” “Yeah really.” “Well dang, I didn’t know people could just do that!” “When it’s two people, you sure can!” In the same vein: “The road to hell is paved with adverbs.” While it’s true that it’s more powerful to say “His sentences blended together” or “the words came out nearly overlapped, narry a breath between them.” if you write that way all the time, it’s going to sound weird and won’t always convey the same mood as what you want. Sometimes it’s okay to say “he said quickly.” or “His sentence ended abruptly.” Yes, dashed or sprinted are usually better words than “ran quickly” and are faster to say than “He was down the hall faster than greased lightning.” But remember that adverbs are not the devil. Adjectives are okay. Starting a sentence with “but” is fine for impact. Dialogue has no rules other than “does it sound like something someone would say?” Ending a sentence with a preposition is fine, especially in dialogue. You can use ellipsis points (...) to indicate a pause in dialogue. If you don’t like the writing advice someone gave you, you don’t have to take it. The only real rules I try to stick by are “try to spell everything properly and use proper grammar unless it’s for dialogue” and “make sure it’s easy to read.” Like, I hate when people write “should of” when they mean “should’ve” or “should have” I hate that stuff with a passion. But unless I’m the one person you’re trying to impress, you literally DO NOT HAVE TO CARE. You can write “should of.” It’s your book. I am not the authority on all books. I am not the library god. What I like is not nearly as important as what YOU like. But do take that under advisement that grammatically correct books and properly-spelled manuscripts are way more likely to get published because the world of English literature is elitist as all heck because the rules were written back when hardly anyone was literate and people hang on to traditions like that whether they’re helpful or not. As long as people can understand what you wrote, that’s all that matters in regards to “rules.” So if a rule makes you unhappy? Forget the rule and write what you want. Writer Cartels: A writing cartel is especially important for new authors and self-published authors. A writing cartel is essentially a big group or club of fellow writers. This is your main resource for writing advice, research, a good source of beta readers, free advertisement, and inspiration. Your cartel is going to be there to support you while you write your book and after you get published. You can look for writers groups on social media platforms or by visiting libraries/looking for writing conventions in your town. The comments section of YouTube book reviews has a fair number of people. Make friends. Start your own writer cartel. Join a writer’s workshop program or a writers workshop discord since everything’s closed in 20/20 for the ‘Rona. If there’s a creative writing course at your local community college and you can afford it, take the course, make contacts, make friends with the people you meet there, stay in touch, and form a cartel with them.

“Kill your Darlings”, Crutch Tropes, Crutch Words, and Other Quirks: Kill your darlings is a piece of writing advice you tend to hear a lot. It basically means “Sometimes you have to cut out a cool scene or a neat detail or a beloved character because it doesn’t add anything to your book, weighs down the chapter, ruins the flow, or just generally doesn’t belong and takes up valuable word’s that could be used to advance the plot instead.” Tom Bombadil from Lord of the Rings is a famous example. “Darlings” and crutch tropes are similar but a crutch trope isn’t always a darling and a darling isn’t always a crutch trope. A “darling” is basically anything you like as the author that you want to keep that either all your betas HATE or that holds your writing back in some way. For instance, I like to show off when writing. I wrote a whole scene about different pieces of a ship’s rigging because I knew a lot of the terms and learned a bunch more to get familiar with ships for a scene that has ships in it. But it’s not important to my character to know what a clew garnet is. It’s not important to my readers to know what the clew garnet is. The clew garnet doesn’t serve any deeper purpose in my story other than showing off that I know what that piece of rigging is called. So I removed that scene from my book. I trimmed out all the rigging terms and explanations that weren’t relevant to what was actually happening in the scene, stuck to simple terms, and shortened that chapter by a good chunk by doing so. There’s nothing important missing from the story and it reads just as well without the rigging explanations. That is “killing your darling.” A crutch trope can be a darling, too, but only if you use it excessively. I know I have crutch tropes. I really love chewing the scenery in my stories and I really, REALLY love excessively describing food. Literally chew-able scenery. My book would be a lot shorter without those scenes since they serve no larger purpose other than giving the characters just a hair’s breadth more depth by saying “Yeah, Character A likes X food. And Character B likes Y food. Now you know.” This is a “darling” and a crutch trope. Whether I choose to kill this darling is up to me. But if it’s just a thing you do often, such as writing dream sequences in all your works, then it’s just a crutch trope and not a darling. But you may still want to kill it. Crutch Words: I often use the word “rather” when I actually mean “very.” “He was rather famished.” “She was rather tired.” While this does keep you a step removed from obvious adverb addiction, it becomes rather innocuous and you tend to not notice it or give it rather much thought until it’s become rather ubiquitous and taken up rather a lot of your rather limited word count. (And as you can see, that can get... annoying.) When the word swarms your prose to the point it’s almost more common than your articles “a/the” it’s a crutch word. I already gave you an example with rather, but it happens with more than adverbs and adjectives. Verbs can be crutch words too. If all your characters sob and none of them ever weep, sob is your sadness crutch word. If all of your characters smile and none of them grin, smiled is your happiness crutch word. When is a crutch word not a crutch? When you NEED it for the sentence to make sense. If it’s important to know “He smiled and she smiled back,” there’s no reason to change it to something excessive and potentially inaccurate with “He grinned at her and she simpered in return.” If someone says “I would rather do this than do that,” the “rather” is no longer a crutch. My general rules are: other than articles and common words like “a, the, it, that, what, etc.” you shouldn't have a word used more than once in the same paragraph and definitely not in the same sentence i.e. “Her eyes glazed over as she eyed the enchanted item.” Eye is used in both eyes and eyed and it sounds clunky. A better version of the sentence would be “Here eyes glazed over as she gazed at the enchanted item” or “Her eyes glazed over as she observed the enchanted item.” If you have a crutch trope, and it’s broad i.e. chewing the scenery, try not to do it more than once per chapter. And if it’s a highly specific trope like a dream sequence, use it no more than once per book. But again, these are just rules that I personally follow. I am not God. Write what you enjoy and only take my advice if you agree with it. More on Darlings and how to kill them here. Fringe Crutch Words and How to Cope: There are only so many ways to say “smiled” in the English language, and there are many different smiles that mean many different things. A friendly smile and a sheepish grin are different things, but we don’t always have words to describe different smiles. You can describe a wide smile as beaming and a coy smile as a simper, we have words for sneers and grimaces, but a pained smile has no single word of its own. A sympathetic smile does not have a unique word. Sometimes a sad smile is just a sad smile and if there’s no other way to say it, just use the “crutch” word. Even if you think your characters “smile too much.” Don’t antagonize trying to find a perfect word or you risk falling into “Thesaurus Syndrome” by trying to avoid a word that you simply can’t avoid. Thesaurus Syndrome: Know what your words actually mean, including their connotation. Connotation is the idea or feeling a word evokes, rather than it’s pure definition. For example: stench, scent, and aroma all mean “smell” but a stench or odor is almost always a bad smell; I can’t recall ever seeing a good smell labeled as, say, a “sweet stench.” Similarly, one would never call the scent of skunk spray a “perfume” or “aroma.” “Scent” is very context-sensitive and thus neutral in connotation. So when you use a thesaurus to vary your words, make sure the connotations are the same and that you know how much bigger “gargantuan” sounds compared to just “large.” Flowery words: “Cerulean orbs” is a meme for a reason. Fancy words are all well and good, but jargon runs the risk of alienating your audience. Going back to my clew garnet example, basically no layperson that’s not obsessed with sailing knows what a clew garnet is or what it’s for. If the word isn’t necessary to your story, don’t use it. And if it is, but it’s an uncommon word, make sure to give context or define it in some way. You don’t want to alienate your audience. When it comes to poetic language, i.e. cerulean orbs, it’s important to keep a few things in mind. When you use poetic language, it makes the thing you’re describing automatically more important than anything you describe in a mundane way. If you describe your main character as “a dude with a shaggy beard.” and then describe a trash can as “a silvery vessel for all the unwanted scraps, a prison for the castaways, the lonely, cold, metal receptacle for evidence of a human life, lived to it’s messy, pure, fullness,” that trash can sounds WAY more important than your main character and you also sound like a weirdo for describing a trash can like that. If you want to describe something exceptional, use poetic language, if you want to describe the mundane, use mundane language. A red scarf is nothing more than a scarf that is red. But a crimson scarf sounds significant. However, even when you describe something significant with poetic language, there is a point where too much is too much. Hence “cerulean orbs” instead of “blue eyes.” Cerulean orbs sits right in the middle of foreign/unnatural speech, overly poetic, and overly mundane. No one regularly calls blue eyes “cerulean orbs,” so it immediately sounds alien and unnatural. But it’s also not poetic enough to come from, say, a lover describing her partner’s beautiful blue eyes. “His eyes were deep and dark, the blue like the blue of a midnight sea, shimmering as the candlelight flickered across his irises,” is a much more fitting piece of prose if you want to give off a sense of beauty and the sublime. But if it’s just someone that has blue eyes? You want to go full mundane. “He had blue eyes” is all we need to know. Don’t over-complicate it. That’s not to say you should never write the sublime as mundane or the mundane as sublime, but that’s generally reserved for actual poetry and not part of prose, so unless your book’s main theme revolves around the beauty of common/ugly things or how utterly unremarkable even the most romanticized things are, you want to stick to the general rule that poetic language is reserved for things that are special to your narrative and that mundane language is usually fine everywhere else. Remember, you’re not trying to show off for your audience and you’re not trying to talk down to them. Some Things Specific to Fantasy Writing: The next few sections are dedicated to struggles I personally experienced when writing fantasy and how I overcame them. “How Can She Have a French Braid if There is No France?” and Other Linguistic Troubles: Generally speaking, if you’re writing a fantasy novel, it will not be set on our Modern Earth, and even if it is, there are sometimes troubles. Say your world is fairly unique, something like Tolkien’s Middle Earth. Your elves wear their hair in braids as a tradition. The braid style for upper-class elves is a French braid, unlike the Fishtail Braid which is relegated to the commoners. But wait. Nowhere in your world is called “France” so how can it be a “French Braid?” My rule on this is as follows: Things like French Doors and French braids are very specific and aren’t easily described smoothly in prose as “A set of floor to ceiling/ tall double doors that are made with glass.” or “a braid of three strands, in a gathered plait, from the crown of one’s head to the nape of one’s neck.” If you have to describe it like that EVERY time, it will get tiresome, and if you invent a new word for it, your readers will have to be constantly reminded what it means. With terms like these, it’s okay to use the eponymous word or the namesake word. If your character wears a Tam O’Shanter hat, it’s okay to call it that. If the item in question is, say, a branded thing, you can get a little more flexible. Say your character has a magical item that works just like a liquid Band-aid. But you can’t call it that because Band-aid is a brand and they don’t have adhesive bandages in the story for you to compare it to. In cases like this, it’s best to name the item yourself and define it for the audience. “’Hold still,’ Theresa demanded, pouring the syrupy potion over the wound. Within a few minutes, the liquid solidified, protecting the large scrape from the outside world and dulling the pain. ‘Wow,’ Sir Hugh said, running his hand over the area. ‘What was that?’ ‘Elvish suture,’ Theresa explained. ‘Made of pine sap, some medicinal herbs, and a little alchemy. Don’t strain too hard and it should hold until we can get you to a proper doctor.’” Here, you’ve established what the thing is, what it does, and gave off the general vibe of a liquid bandage without actually using the words. This technique is best used for things that are modified from things that exist in our world. Another option when you’re borrowing from our world is to use a generic term or modify a generic term to your advantage. Going back to the Band-Aid example, let’s say your world DOES have Band-Aids, but since it’s not Earth, you want to call it something else. You can give it a completely foreign name and appearance such as “Verdant’s Dressings” and describe it as “a green, leaf-shaped fabric bandage that uses an adhesive to bind gauze to an open wound,” or you can use a generic term and just call it an “adhesive bandage” depending on how different you want it to be from something in our world the more unique your name for it is, the more it seems to belong to your world and not ours, but this can have the disadvantage of confusing or alienating your audience. When something is entirely your own invention, huzzah! Name it yourself and have fun with it! A great way to make it familiar and memorable to your readers is to name it based on mythology or with Greek/Germanic/Latin base words. If there’s a sleeping potion in your world, you can name it Morph’s Tears to associate it with Greek God Morpheus or you can call it Somnetic Vapors to associate it with somnum, Latin for sleep. If you’re drawing from the mythology of other cultures, try using words from that culture’s language for your naming conventions. Beware of what you decide to borrow from and how you decide to use terms as some mythical creatures are sacred to some cultures, some gods and monsters are sacred to some closed religions, and some foreign words have had different historical meanings than their modern ones. See also: When is it Okay to Borrow This?

How Modern is too Modern for the Medieval? General Rules and How to Break Them: When you write a fantasy work, chances are it’s a high-fantasy novel. High Fantasy often sticks with a world that is medieval or at least pre-modern. While these rules can be applied to other time periods or genres like steampunk, I’m most familiar with high fantasy and medieval time periods so I will use that for most of this advice. Generally a lot of what we think of as “normal” has only been around for 200-500 years and everything earlier than that is considered ancient by our standards. However, some things might surprise you. This is why research is always important. Things like tea, bathrooms, fireworks, and aqueducts are much older than you may think at first and some things a full set of silverware or belts and buttons are more recent than you think. When researching, always be sure to search “the history of X” and not just “when was X invented?” Often times “invented” means patented and that will yield much more recent results. Bagged tea was invented in 1908, but tea as a beverage goes way father back in history (around year 200 BC.) Furthermore, loose leaf tea is a modern invention and wasn’t purchased or sold that way until around the late 1800s. Tea was usually sold in a brick and you could buy a tea cake or an entire sheet of them at the market to grate down to a loose leaf brew at home. Sugar, similarly wasn’t the white granulated stuff we have today. Sugar was sold as a damn, cone-shaped loaf. While the layperson may not be troubled by your medieval queens and kings sipping a loose leaf tea, a more “educated” reader might. The more familiar a reader is with the time period you’re basing your work around, the more your anachronisms will stick out. If magic is present in your work, you have more flexibility, but you should generally try to stick to a period of 100-200 years. The bigger your window of time, the more you run into the chance of some things seeming inaccurate. Anachronisms are definitely not something to break your brain over trying to avoid them, but if you want, say, steam-power in your book when everything else stays more true to the medieval period, you do want to try to justify the anachronism within the narrative. As previously stated, magic existing in your world makes this much easier to do. If your world has magic, then faster-than-light communication may be possible with, say, a telepathy spell or a scrying spell. This may eliminate the need for carrier pigeons and may even hasten the equivalent of something similar to a magical computer or a magical internet or telephone service. Keep in mind that this might also hinder technological development, making your world seem to be set further back in time than it actually is. If, say, your world has magic that allows a kind of hammerspace where you can store anything, and it’s widely accessible, then wagons might not exist in your world. Who needs them when you can shove everything you own in a cheap bag and take it with you on your horse? For that matter, if transporting everything is that simple, your world might not even have many towns or hubs because more groups can afford to be nomadic. Maybe agriculture doesn’t even exist, and your main character’s village is a group of nomads that live like cowboys and just follow their herds, eating their meat and supplementing it with whatever vegetables they find on the way, rather than building farms. Research technology you want to exist in your world, narrow down an analogous time frame in our world where that technology exists, keep most of your technology to things that exist to within a 100-200 year window of your desired time period. When you have anachronisms, justify their existence within the narrative by explaining why the invention of that technology was important. Think about how the anachronisms of your world shape it and how the magic in your world, if any, would shape what anachronisms exist. Why Everyone Probably Shouldn’t Speak the Same Language: While it is true that even in the medieval period, there were plenty of people and plenty of nations that spoke English, not every country did. Similarly, while most people in your fantasy world might be able to get away with speaking a common tongue, it’s important to think about a few things. The higher caste your characters are from, the better able they should be to communicate with almost anyone as, historically, they would have had schooling where they learned from tutors how to speak with others for diplomatic purposes. Keep in mind that this is especially true for allies but also true for enemies. You cannot negotiate peace treaties between humans and elves if the elves only speak elvish and the humans only speak their own language, after all and you cannot make war time demands if your enemy doesn’t know what you want. Vice versa, if your main character is a pauper, unless their relatives are from different walks of life, your character might only speak the language of the area they grew up in or some sort of pigeon language between their nation and its nearest neighbor. Dialects within regions also happen. Canadian French is not the same as the French they speak in France, after all. Remember that the language barrier increases if there’s a large body of water or a mountain range dividing two nations. The harder it is for them to trade with each other by geography, the harder it will be for them to communicate. While this can be mitigated somewhat by the use of magic (telepathy where communication isn’t verbal, or by the use of some magical translation spell) or by the existence of a long-lived tribe (language develops fast, but it’s harder to have a tower of Babel effect where language is highly diverse when there’s a 1000 year old dwarf in your village that speaks the old tongue and everyone else around them does too because good luck getting the old goat to learn the new slang) if your world doesn’t have magic or an ancient race where people regularly live to be very old, you can benefit from the use of Conlangs. Conlangs: Short for “Constructed Language,” a conlang is basically a made up language to add a diverse feel to your book. If your characters are interacting with aliens, it would be weird for the aliens to come down and speak perfect English without the use of some translation technology. Similarly, if your world doesn’t have magic, it’s very strange if people can all understand each other if they haven’t all been colonized by the same powerful empire or if they don’t all live near each other. And Island nation that’s hard to get to is probably not going to speak the same language that they do on the mainland thousands of miles away, and if they do, it’s going to be a weird dialect that no one on the mainland understands anymore if the isolated island doesn’t somehow keep in regular contact. This is when conlangs are useful. You don’t have to go full Tolkien and have a complete, speakable elvish language. But the closer you get to that, the more real the world seems. You don’t have to be an expert linguist to do this, but if you are one or know one, creating a conlang is easier. Start by figuring out what language you want to base it on. It’s much easier to construct a language based on one that already exists. Because English is one of the most commonly spoken languages in the world (both as a first and as a second language) English is a good base language, especially if you intend to market your book to an English-speaking audience. If your conlang doesn’t appear often, you can get away with coming up with only a few words as they’re needed. But if your character is best friends with someone who immigrated from another nation, you want your conlang to be borderline translatable if not fully translatable. Lingo Jam is a great resource for creating a conlang as you can add in words and their translations to create a translator to help your readers. Lingo Jam also provides a list of the most common words used in English to help you get started with a rough idea of what words you might need to translate. Keep in mind root words, regular and irregular verbs for conjugations, and word-order. Idioms unique to your conlang also add to authenticity, and the more important something is to a culture, the more likely their language would reflect that. If your character comes from a snowy climate, maybe they have more words for snow than they do for grass. Or maybe they have fewer. Or maybe they have specific words for different thicknesses because knowing the thickness of ice is important to their survival. If there’s a special magical item that comes only from that characters country, chances are that their word for it is unique, or that other cultures and nations borrow the word for that thing from that conlang. Consider also the interplay between gender, climate, religion, and other aspects of culture and how that reflects on your language. If your character’s culture originated in a desert where water is scarce and they’re highly religious, chances are that words for water and divinity will have some link or be seen together often. If your character lives in a matriarchal society, perhaps their word for doctor is “medicine woman” the same way English has gendered terms like “fireman.” Maybe your magical race of tree people doesn’t differentiate between male and their word for “person” isn’t gendered at all. Or maybe they have several gendered words that refer to tree species more than anything about our concept of gender and they apply these “tree genders” to human populations based on height and hair color. As a final note, remember that conlangs aren’t necessary, and if this kind of thing hurts your head, you can just use Esperanto or skip it all together. There are plenty of successful fantasy novels out there that don’t use conlangs. If you want a fun way to add depth to a vast fantasy world, do consider the conlang, but it’s by no means necessary to have one and it’s not world-breaking to not have one. “When is it Okay to Borrow This?” and Other Questions About Taking Inspiration from Different Cultures: I’m basing most of my information off this post, and it sadly seems to display in improper order, but it’s worth the read. Basically if something is specific to a culture or religion (this is why researching is important) it’s probably not okay to borrow from it unless you know what you’re doing. Having a sensitivity reader is good for this, but if you don’t have one or can’t find one, consider reaching out to someone you know who is familiar with the culture to ask if it’s okay. If something is a food, item of clothing, or a technology that has spread across the world, chances are it’s okay to use that. Rice is a common staple food, for example, so if your world or your character has a specific type of riceball or onigiri, it’s usually okay to call it a rice ball, call it onigiri, or describe it as such. I do have some caveats for that later. A kimono, likewise, is considered everyday clothes, if a bit old-fashioned, and kimono are often given as gifts if you stay with a family in Japan. If you base an item of clothing off a kimono in your story, that should be fine. A good rule of thumb is: If you can buy it in a gift shop in the country you’re borrowing it from, or if it’s widely sold across the world by the people who created it, it’s probably okay to use in your story. The Caveat: Keep in mind, when you borrow things, that stereotypes exist, and if you’re using it because of a stereotype, even a positive stereotype, you need to reconsider. Let’s say one of your fantasy races is coded as “Asian” (as non-specific and vague as that is) it’s obviously bad to describe them as having yellow skin, eating “gross” and “weird” foods, having “slit” eyes and a number of other things. But what’s less obvious are positive stereotypes. If this fantasy race of yours that’s coded after some Asian group are broadly characterized as “being smarter than everyone around” that’s ALSO a stereotype. While it’s generally the case that “Asian people are smarter” here in the USA, it’s important to note that a big reason behind that is that most people immigrating from Asian countries like China, Japan, and Korea are wealthy. They can afford to take a risk and move to the USA, so they do. And because they are wealthier, they can afford to pay for better education, tutors, and private lessons for their children. And when they do, the children tend to score better on tests which makes it seem like they’re smarter. Remember that a lot of things are highly correlated with wealth and challenge and scrutinize why you might want to pick a certain trait for a certain character. Pay Special Attention to Anything You Want to Characterize Negatively: If your character doesn’t like sushi, is it just because she doesn’t like fish? Or is it because she doesn’t like raw fish? If you can’t think of a reason why, or if the answer is “she doesn’t like it because it’s different from what she’d normally eat.” think about the reason YOU think that way. Not everyone has to like sushi, but if your character hates it just because she’s never had it before and it’s strange to her, unless your character is MEANT to be inexperienced, this makes her come off as a bit xenophobic. This kind of thing exists in a grey area, so again, this doesn’t mean your character is bad if they don’t like sushi, it’s just something to consider. A more clear-cut case is this. You describe a character as ugly, with a big, long, hooked nose. Why? Chances are you picked this up from an old cartoon, and that old cartoon picked it up from somewhere else. While not intrinsically anti-semitic the “ugly, long, hooked nose” has been a long-standing anti-semitic caricature. That’s not to say an ugly character can never have a long, hooked nose, but you have to be extremely careful with what other traits they have, because that anti-semitic caricature goes hand in hand with many other negative stereotypes and you may not even realize they’re stereotypes you hold. Again, this is why a sensitivity reader is so very important. Because nowadays, representation is important and it matters, and it’s great if you want to write about lots of different people and cultures and borrow from them, but it’s also very easy to be swayed by stereotypes and biases you didn’t even know you had and accidentally come off as racist, sexist, homophobic, or xenophobic in the process. Don’t let the fear of falling victim to your own implicit biases stop you from trying to be diverse, but do let it give you pause. If you’re uncertain of the history of something, PLEASE research it and PLEASE consult as many people from that culture as possible. Remember: some things are sacred. Just because something is old doesn’t mean it’s safe, either. Some people still worship the Greek Gods. Some people still practice paganism. So When is it Okay to Borrow This Thing?: Again, if it’s something you can buy from the people who’s culture it belongs to, it’s generally okay to assume that it’s a part of their culture they want to share. Clothing, food, and technology are usually safe bets, especially if you intend to talk about them in a positive light. (Beware of “Exoticising” things too much though.) If something is a part of a culture you belong to, then that’s also usually a safe bet of something you can riff off of without being insensitive. But beware. What’s good representation for you, might be bad representation to someone else. Your idea of Christmas, might be blasphemous to someone else, hence why it’s especially important to tread lightly with religions. “Exoticising”: Exoticising can be described as a subtle form of racism in which you worship, eroticize, romanticize, or fantasize a certain element of a culture, race, or religion to which you do not belong. This is often seen when describing a black woman as a “mocha-colored goddess” but can also be seen when describing he food, customs, or language of a particular group. “Weeaboos” are often guilty of exoticising Japanese culture, and food journalists are especially bad about this when they try to describe foreign foods by describing them in ill-fitting “terms that an American would understand.” It’s known as exoticising because it serves one of two purposes. It’s either used to make the foreign or “exotic” more palatable to an audience less receptive to it or by making something foreign even MORE foreign and mysterious, enhancing it’s “exotic” appeal. You may be exoticising a food if you describe it in a way that resembles the foods described in this post. If you describe a person using food terms or describe a religion as cultish or mysterious, you may be exoticising it. Sensitivity Readers: A sensitivity reader is a type of beta reader or editor that specifically looks for elements in your book that may be problematic. While no single sensitivity reader can possibly catch every single thing that might potentially be offensive, if you have concerns about your work, it might be a good idea to run your manuscript by one of these readers first. They will give you suggestions on what to improve or remove. Just like any beta reader, you do NOT have to take the advice they give or implement the changes they suggest, but they can be helpful if you’ve ever been told your work is “problematic.” Again, remember that what’s empowering for one person is denigrating to another, and your book will never satisfy EVERYBODY. Think about what group you’re trying to write for, and implement edits based on what you think would appeal most to that group. Magic systems: Ever important for people writing fantasy is the magic system. “Harry Potter” had the “wand as a focus” and “incantation as power” set-up, “The Elder Scrolls” series has potions, books, skills, and words of power, covering a whole slew of magical rules. When designing a magic system, you need to decide how it works, and that requires answering some questions. “What can magic do, what can it not do, what does it cost, who can learn it, how is it learned and how do you do it?” What Magic Can Do?: Can magic help you light a fire? Move a mountain? Raise the dead? Cool! Write down some of the things magic can do in your project bible or somewhere that you’ll remember to look so you can reference the rules of magic later. Think of what purpose magic has in your story. Is it a tool your protagonist needs to overcome obstacles? Is it an oppressive force that needs to be banned? Consider the role magic plays when deciding what magic can do and why that’s empowering or oppressive. And remember, it’s totally okay if you just want magic to exist in your world because it’s cool! Just remember that the other aspects of magic are that much more important now, so that the magic in your world doesn’t seem out of place. Next... What Can’t Magic Do?: Remember that limitations make the world more realistic and establish boundaries. If your magic can do anything, your characters are all gods, and relative power levels are meaningless. That can be boring and no one will know what to expect. Will a new obstacle cause the main character to struggle? Is their new opponent a threat? Limitations are necessary for your readers to actually see characters grow as they push boundaries and magic is no different. If magic can help you create fire, can it put the fire out? Does it need a source of fire to bend or can the fire be spontaneously generated? If you can move a mountain, does the size of the mountain matter? Does a larger mountain require more mages to move it? (Remember that limitations like this don’t have to be well known in your world. Consider “Avatar: The Last Airbender.” Metal bending was thought to be impossible even for experienced earth benders. And then Toph came along and blew that out of the water and bent metal because Toph is awesome like that. So consider the difference between hard limits [things no one can do] and soft limits [things that are hard to do, require a loophole, or are an obstacle for your special protagonist to obliterate.] One hard limit I see a lot is that magic cannot raise the dead/make you immortal because if you can raise the dead or make yourself immortal, the stakes are drastically lower for your characters unless your universe has a “fate worse than death” clause in it somewhere. If magic can raise the dead, they come back “wrong” or imperfect or it costs so much energy to do it’s not worth trying. If magic can make you immortal there’s usually a cost associated. Even if you elect not to use any hard limits at all, consider what magic costs. What Does Magic Cost?: Is it “free” but you have to know how to do it or else risk consequences and misfires like in “Harry Potter?” Does it require energy like spell slots in “Dungeons and Dragons” or mana like in most RPG video games and when you use up all that energy you have to rest or risk killing yourself with it? Going back to raising the dead and immortality, “Full Metal Alchemist” deals with the cost pretty well. You can’t raise people from the dead because God/the Truth won’t let you, but you can try. And you will fail. And it will cost you part of your body if not your life. And whatever you do create is not what you wanted, not who you wanted. You can make a Philosopher's Stone that makes you immortal and lets you bypass other costs for alchemy. Except it requires you to kill countless people and, if I remember correctly, using alchemy uses up the souls in the Philosopher's Stone instead of materials. So you can be immortal. You just have to be a moral monster. FMA also does cost with “normal” alchemy in an interesting way. It requires “equivalent exchange,” meaning if you want to alchemically make yourself a bunch of little bird-shaped wooden paperweights, you need to have the wood to do it and you have to know the alchemical formula to make an alchemy circle to do it. It’s also stated in at least one version of the anime that the energy to perform alchemy comes from souls in a parallel world so, like, honestly, alchemy is scary as hell and the cost usually involves human life. Cost is also a good way of creating “power levels.” The strongest mage might be the one that practices more, sure. But if magic is innate and everyone can do it, what separates one educated mage from another educated mage? Cost. Whoever is willing to sacrifice more will win. This also stops your character from relying on magic for everything. If magic has a relatively low cost, we should expect things like we see in “Harry Potter.” Things never really developed much beyond the medieval because magic solved most problems so there was no need for more technology. “Why have a TV? We have magic photographs and stuff! Airplanes? Nah, we have portkeys and floo powder and magic.” If magic has a high cost, you would probably see a lot of technical development alongside magic. Why do energy-sapping magic to light a fire to make your tea when you can just invent an electric kettle to boil water for you? Think about how the cost will limit your character and shape their world. Who Can Learn Magic and How?: Is it something everyone has the potential for? If so, is everyone a mage/witch/wizard? If not, what stops people with the innate ability from performing magic? (See again: cost.) If it’s not innate, or only innate to some people, what causes people to be attuned to magic? Is it something only elves can do? If it’s something you’re born into, how did it first appear and how is it heritable? Does it spring up at random in populations with a certain level of genetic heritability i.e. Mudbloods and squibs a la “Harry Potter?” Is it passed down like an heirloom? Is it tied to access to a font/source of magic? How did the first mage learn to use magic? Experimenting? Watching another magical creature do it? Gifted the knowledge by a supreme being? How do new generations learn it? Apprenticing to a master sorcerer? From books? From parents? By practicing? From a school of magic? Are certain people limited to certain types of magic like the benders in “Avatar: The Last Air Bender?” How is Magic Done?: Do you need to know magic words? Arcane symbols? Do you need a focus or a medium like a wand or crystal? Is magic done primarily through potions, written hexes, or hand gestures? If the cost is a material, is it a special material like the tooth of a dragon or the remains of a dead fairy? If the magic is contained in a material like a scroll or a crystal, how do you cast the spell? Combining different things within and between categories helps you create a believable and controlled magic system that isn’t overpowered and creates a consistent feel for magic that your readers will pick up on. Do it right and you’ll create a world where your readers are more-or-less aware of who’s a stronger magic user than whom and why, while still leaving them room to be surprised if your protagonist is capable of breaking some of the rules of magic. Do it right and your readers will be confident in your characters’ abilities but will still be concerned when your characters go up against an opponent with either obviously more experience/power or an unknown/new power. Romance and Fluffy Stuff: Some general rules for romance writing.

Feel the Burn: Decide how slow you want it to burn, first and foremost. If your characters are already an established couple, that romance is already lit. You are on fire and your job is to keep feeding it. However, most romance stories start with the characters as strangers or friends and it’s your job to build up the relationship so that the chemistry and synergy are apparent and the romance develops naturally. Now, when I write romance, I write a burn so slow that you get 10 chapters in and the leads haven’t even met each other yet. Unless the slowest of slow burns is absolutely your shtick, you probably don’t want to do that, but your characters also probably shouldn’t be kissing in the first 2 chapters unless they’re already an established couple. Something like Disney’s Animated “Beauty and the Beast '' is about average in terms of how slow the burn is. They’re catching feels ⅓ or ½ into the movie and they’re really bonding and genuinely romancing right before the climax. A slower burn might have you wait until ⅔ of the way for the first inklings of “will they/won’t they?” TV shows are notorious for this and almost never have the main couple pair up until the end of the series, but they usually still have chemistry showing up in season one. “Miraculous Ladybug” is notorious for doing this but that’s partly because the episodes aren’t necessarily chronological, and the big appeal is the romance potential between the leads which is why the writers don’t want to make them a couple until the very last moment or else they risk losing viewers who are only in it for the romantic tension. I personally think that’s cowardly, but it’s a tried and true method for a TV series. ABC’s “Castle” didn’t have the main couple together until Season 5 out of 8 seasons and they only got married in Season 7. Just remember if you seal the deal on the romance too soon, you need an exciting plot to follow it with the romantic partners working together in order for the story to remain interesting after the “will they/won’t they?” tension is resolved or else the book after that will just be boring. But if you wait too long to get to the juicy bits, the reader might get frustrated, the actual romantic parts will feel rushed by comparison, or if you flesh out the aftermath, your book will be 500,000 words long and let’s face it, most people don’t have the patience for that (that’s 5-10 times the industry standard length, by the way.) Decide how slow you want the burn to go and then pace the story accordingly. A faster paced book will want to see the characters getting along pretty early on if not right away, and a slower paced book leaves more room for tension, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers stuff, or lots of fluffy bits. Believable Romance or “A Recipe for Good Smooches”: The next thing you have to worry about in romance is making it believable. Chemistry, synergy, and affection are your 3 big ingredients. If your characters don’t have all of this, the relationship is going to seem stale or fake. Are your characters attracted to one another? Do they get along? That’s chemistry. If your characters absolutely hate each other but suddenly start kissing, there are only 3 options, it’s either bad writing, or they’re hate-kissing/fake kissing. In a believable romance, you CAN have hate-kissing and/or fake kissing, but if you want the chemistry to feel real, they shouldn’t hate everything about each other and should like more than half (on average) of their partner’s personality quirks, facial features, hobbies etc. If your characters have nothing in common/no chemistry/no shared interests it will be REALLY hard to make your readers buy that their affection for each other is sincere. Next is Synergy. How well do the characters work together? If they fight side-by-side are they in sync? Can they predict their partners needs more often than not? If they played the Newlywed’s Game and had to answer trivia about each other, would they score a lot of points? The more your characters know about each other and the better they’re able to work with each other, the more believable their chemistry is. Finally we have affection. How warm are your characters toward each other. How easily do they resolve fights? How often do they give gifts, cuddle, or spend time together. The more affectionate they are, the more it gives credence to their synergy. You don’t have to show affection, chemistry, or synergy in equal parts or all at the same time, but remember that these aspects of the romance are part of a three-legged stool. If you remove any one of the legs completely, the stool will have a very hard time staying up, and the closer they are to the same length, the more stable the stool. A couple with very little chemistry and synergy but is VERY affectionate just seems weird, like inexperienced kids playing at romance rather than a real romance. An excess of chemistry with nothing else makes the pair seem like friends with benefits more than a romantic pairing. And synergy without the other two aspects leans way more deeply into the “best friends” category than the “we’re dating/married” category. Like certain Disney Princesses, missing synergy makes the relationship look more like mutual pining at best or a one-sided romance at worst. Missing out on chemistry, again, makes the bond more familial like found-family or best friends. And missing affection can make it seem either like a broken marriage that’s only staying together for the kids or the comfort, or it makes the couple seem like they’re not really all that committed to each other. The closer you are to having the three ingredients in balance, the closer you are to a believable and idealistic romance. This and more in this post. The Fluffy Bits: Even if the romance isn’t a primary part of your story, the people who like romance and want to see it in your story are going to hate you if you just tell them everything straight. “Henry and Jess went out on a date and had a lot of fun. They had a nice dinner, watched a movie, and slept together at the end of the night,” is WAY boring. The romantic parts don’t have to be 10 page long pining scenes, or describe the dinner date in lucid, uninterrupted detail from start to finish. But you should let the readers see the juicy bits in real time, or at least without glossing over them. “Henry and Jess met up at eight and went to the book shop where they first met to pick up the new release of their favorite book series before heading off to dinner. They read each other chapters from the book while waiting to be seated, and talked about work while waiting for their meal. Henry offered sympathy when Jess expressed her upset that she wasn’t getting along with a new coworker in her department. After the meal, they went to see a screening of Jurassic Park at the old movie theater. Henry remarked how much he loved it the same as he had when he was a boy and Jess admitted that she never appreciated the film as much before she met Henry. They stopped for ice cream on the way home before Jess spent the night at Henry’s. She fell asleep beside him, drifting off somewhere around page 23 of their new book.” That’s not nearly enough detail for some people but it’s WAY better than the first example. The more heavily romance features in your story, the more time should be spent detailing these events and the closer to real time the descriptions should be. We don’t need a frame-by-frame of every second of their night together, but the more detail you give, the more it’s going to engross the readers. Opposites Attract: While some IRL couples can get away with having completely different political ideologies, no shared interests, and nothing in common, most people aren’t like that and it’s VERY hard to pull off in fiction. While the two romantic leads should NOT be carbon copies of each other, they also shouldn’t be complete opposites. Complementary opposites should be about as far into opposites territory as you go and “cut from the same cloth by a different tailor” is about as far as you should go in the other direction. Complementary Opposites: If your characters are more different than alike, their similarities need to be rock solid when it comes to synergy and their differences shouldn’t always be polar opposites but often complementary. While you can get away with “He’s an introvert and she’s an extrovert” and “She plays concert piano but he can’t even carry a tune” it’s a lot harder to get away with “She wants to party all day, every day, and never spend a quiet night at home, and he just wants to read in bed for 6 hours a day” or “She wants every waking moment to be filled with jazz music and he absolutely hates jazz and he would erase it from existence if he could.” If she’s messy and he’s tidy, she can never be TOO messy, or else he’d realistically end up resenting her for never putting anything away and occupying every flat surface in the house to the point where he can’t work on anything without having to shove all her things off to a corner. If she’s a vegan, it’s going to be very frustrating if he’s allergic to 90% of all green foods. If you have hard/distinct differences between the two, there should be more things they agree upon to make up for it. If she’s a big family gal and he’s a lone wolf, they may choose to compromise and have 2 kids instead of 8 like she wants and 1 like he wants, but the compromise is believable because they both love going running in the evening together and they both flip their lids over the same TV show. The better your chemistry, synergy, and affection, the bigger the differences you can get away with. Same Cloth, Different Tailor: While good friends usually agree on most things, just as good spouses would, people are not hive-minds and it’s VERY rare for people to agree on everything. Even if they do agree, their reasons for agreeing may be different. For example, maybe both your characters believe murder is bad no matter what. But one character comes from the perspective that murder is bad because all life is precious and no one should have the right to take the life from someone else so even even killing in self-defense is bad. The other character may believe that murder and killing are distinct categories and believes that it’s okay to kill in self-defense because letting someone kill you is worse than killing someone in self-defense because if you die, the killer might go on to kill more people. Maybe both characters like to eat vanilla ice cream, but one of them likes it because they’re just really picky and don’t like any other flavors but the other likes vanilla because you can add a lot of toppings without it tasting bad. When characters are cut from the same cloth, it’s important to remember that they not be too codependent. They should have other interests beyond shared interests and should be comfortable being alone. Insurmountable Differences: Sometimes things that do happen in real life aren’t believable in fiction. If your characters are too different in certain regards, it’s VERY hard to believe they have a genuine romance. If your characters are on the polar opposite side of the aisle on these big issues, it’s not going to be believable in most cases. These insurmountable differences that make suspending disbelief harder (but not impossible) are: Polar opposite political beliefs. If one of your characters believes trans women are women and the other believes trans people should all die, they’re PROBABLY not going to make a very believable couple. Religion. If one of your characters is a devout Christian who believes all non-Christians are going to hell and the other is an atheist who thinks all religion is superstition and baloney, it’s way harder to believe they’re going to get along without constantly fighting over that. Cleanliness: If one character lives in a literal pigsty hoarder nest and the other is so anal retentive about dust that they take 10 showers every day and their blood boils if something doesn’t smell “right,” they are absolutely going to fight and make each other miserable. Core personality traits. If your characters are polar opposites when it comes to level of openness, introversion/extroversion, or neuroticism, they probably won’t get along. Morals. If your characters have completely different moral compasses, it’s very hard to make that work. Dependence. If one character is totally codependent and the other is completely independent, either one of them is going to be exploited or one of them is going to feel suffocated. Keep in mind this doesn’t mean the characters can never differ on these subjects, but if the differences are, as I said, polar opposite, there’s very little chance readers will believe the couple gets along, no matter how much chemistry, synergy, and affection you add in. The smaller you make differences in these categories, the more believable your couple will be. Friendships as a Bedrock for Romance: If your characters would not be best friends and you’re going for romance and not just steamy bedroom scenes, then your couple will be very hard to believe as a romantic pairing. Friendship is an ideal stepping stone between strangers and lovers, and often a necessary one. That’s not to say your characters have to start as friends. But if your characters couldn’t even imagine being friends with their intended partner, being in a romance also isn’t a likely path for their relationship.

Some Final, General Notes: A section dedicated to things I though up at the last minute or didn’t fit anywhere else. “Holy Shit! Two Cakes!” and Combating Impostor Syndrome: Sometimes you feel like, even when people like your story, that your work is nothing special, that other people are better than you, that you don’t deserve praise because your story was inspired by other things. In cases where you feel like an impostor, it’s important to remember what your work looks like from outside sources. In general, people tend to like “more of the same” and that’s why so many successful novels and movies are inspired by other sources. The Lion King didn’t set out to be Hamlet/Amleth, but it’s clearly working off the same bone structure. 90% of mystery shows take direct inspiration from Sherlock Holmes. Most high fantasy novels take inspiration from Tolkien. The Sistine Chapel is literally fanart of the Bible and Dante’s Divine Comedy (Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso) are literally Bible fan-fiction where Dante self-inserts and hangs out with his faves like Virgil while writing in all the people he hated getting punished in hell. Most if not all of Disney’s properties are adapted from fairy tales that they didn’t write themselves. When you find yourself thinking: ”Nothing I write is unique,” remember that. There is nothing new under the sun, but even if your story has been told before, no one has ever told it like you will tell it. And when you find yourself thinking: “Nothing I write will ever be as good as what I was inspired by.” Remember: “Two Cakes.” If you work your butt off to make a cake to bring to a party and someone else brings a cake that looks way better, remember that most people at the party are not going to think “Ugh, TWO cakes? No one wants two cakes! Eat the pretty one and throw out the shitty one!” No. Most people are going to think “HOLY SHIT! TWO CAKES! THAT’S AWESOME! NOW WE HAVE ENOUGH CAKE FOR PEOPLE TO HAVE SECONDS!” Sure, people might eat the prettier cake first. But maybe yours has cherries and the other one doesn’t and cherries are someone’s absolute favorite! Or maybe your cake isn’t as pretty but it’s gluten-free and there’s someone in the crowd with Celiac who’s SO thankful you brought a cake that they can eat. And even if your cakes are the exact same? And everyone goes to the pretty cake first? The hungry people will come back for your cake after. And they’ll be happy for a second slice. “But Fan-Fiction is Bad!”: No. Fan-fiction is how we’ve been telling stories for hundreds of years. The story of King Arthur that we have today is literally a fanfic of a fanfic of a fanfic of a fanfic. The original King Arthur story didn’t even have other knights or a round table or Merlin. Disney literally makes its money by doing fanfiction of public domain stories. Niel Gaiman wrote HP Lovecraft and Sherlock Holmes fanfic and published it as an original work and won a Hugo award for it. The comic book industry is literally built off taking characters someone else made and making them do different things or making them do the same thing in a different way. Fanfiction is literally how stories are told. Any original idea you have is probably inspired by something that happened to you or something you adored as a kid and forgot about. Badly written fanfiction is bad because it’s badly written, not because it’s fanfic. “No one wants to read someone’s work if it’s not original!” Nah, man. There are people that have seen every Batman movie ever made, read every comic that even remotely mentioned Batman, and own anything with Batman’s symbol on it. King Arthur and his knights are referenced in media constantly. Neon Genesis Evangelion had and still has merchandise out the ass, reboots, spin-offs, and games made about it. Harry Potter inspired copycats around the world. There’s published work out there, right now, called “50 Shades of Grey” which is erotic “Twilight” fan-fiction re-branded to something original and it took the freaking world by storm, whether it deserved the fame it got or not. Fan-fiction is just a way some people tell stories and there’s no shame in that. “But Someone Said X Trope Was Bad!”: Tropes and archetypes are neither bad nor good. They are tools and building blocks. Learning how to use them, play with them, or subvert them in a way that works for your story is the difference between a “good” trope and a “bad” one. Do you like it when the grumpy person and the soft sweet person fall in love? That’s a trope. Do you like it when the hero has a snappy one-liner? Trope. Do you like heroes that are absolute dumbasses with hearts of gold? Trope. Do you like it when the villains are flashy and goofy? Trope. If you’ve seen it more than once, chances are it’s a trope. And there’s no shame in using a trope or an archetype. Know the Answers to the Questions You Want Your Readers to be Asking: Does one of your characters die at the end? Do you want your readers to ask themselves “Oh my God? Did X just die?” Suspense is important to stories, and getting your readers to ask questions is part of building suspense. But even if you never intend to reveal the answers, you should still know the answers to the questions you want your readers to ask. “Was the hero the bad guy all along?” Even if you never confirm one way or the other, YOU personally should know the answer. This is useful not only for sequel baiting, but it also helps you tell a more consistent narrative with a one-shot story. Knowing the answers helps you be deliberate with what you choose to reveal, and whether what you reveal gets the reader closer to the answer, or muddies the waters more and more. That’s All Folks: Again, this is just stuff I picked up. Only take the advice that you want to take or that you think will help you. It’s your book and you have complete control over it. Hopefully, this has been helpful. Now get out there and write! I may add more information as I learn more because I’m always learning and growing.

#writing tips #refs #writing refs #long post #how to write

2 notes · View notes

kinktae · 5 years

Note

holy crap!! I just noticed y/n’s family in bitchin is like stranger things !!!! I love that sm omg love it so far btw ♡

YESSSS thank u for noticing!! I have a lot of fun with writing bitchin i do hehe

(warning: literal 80 asks under the cut)

Anonymous said: not @ me reading bitchin’ during math literally SLAMMING YHE DESK

crystalsnowd said: I LOVED BITCHINNNN OMG UR SO TALENTED I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT PART

Anonymous said: I was going to stay up to wait for Bitchin but I went to sleep instead because today is my first day of school (second year of university) so I decided to get sleep while I still could. Also I read the update on the train sitting next to a random lady and I really hope she didn’t look over at my phone lol. I loved the update and I can’t wait for the rest of the series!!!

Anonymous said: OMG BITCHIN WAS SO GOOD! You're such an amazing writer!!!

jun-sohyunnie-dotnet said: Just an fyi, bitchin' jk is my FAVORITE jk I've ever had the pleasure of reading. Ever. He could stomp all over me and I'd thank him profusely. (And you're writing is absolutely captivating 🥺💕💕)

sugarkinky said: Bitchin just wrecked me for real, U ARE AWESOME ROSE mierda que te amo chica ¿cómo consigues escribir así? Eres perfecta ❤

Anonymous said: Bruh bitchin was everything I wanted and more thank u baby

Anonymous said: Bitchin’ is amazing! I have so many feelings ahhhh!!! I love you and your work 🥺

awkwardaegyo said: YOU HAVE GOT ME SO THIRSTY FOR JUNGKOOK FUCKIN PARCHED D-HYDRATED IF YOU WILL BITCHIN HAS GOT ME FUCKEC UP!!!!!

Anonymous said: Bitchin' is literally my favourite fic right now, it's so good! 😍 Can't wait for the next part!!

gardenofrosesx said: Im in love with bitchin 🥺💗 I think that the song that represent it so well is Wait a minute by Willow Smith, every time a hear it I imagine this fic💗 I send you thousands of good vibes and love and peace to your side! Keep going 💗

Anonymous said: Ahhhh I just wanted to say bitchin is absolutely amazing and is so well written and I’m just completely hooked!!! YOU DID AMAZING!!! Also is there gonna be angst in future chapters BECAUSE IM REALLY NOT READY IF BOTH JUNGKOOK AND OC DENY THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER

Anonymous said: girl, I finally got around to reading bitchin' and I CAN'T BELIEVE I DIDN'T READ IT SOONER. it's been a while since I've found a chaptered fic that kept my interests but I was hooked with pt 1!!! I love your spin on tatbilb, and I love the characters you created. I have to honestly say, I'm also absolutely in love with the way you write. your descriptions and dialogue hit me in all the right places. I can't wait to see where this story takes me. thank you for doing what you do!

Anonymous said: Love Bitchin so far!

Anonymous said: i keep rereading bitchin pt. 5😭😭 love it so much

Anonymous said: hi!! I just wanted to leave an ask and let you know that you’re one of my absolute favorite authors and your work is incredible!! the concept behind your rewind series is so unique and interesting and all of the stories have been wonderful so far. I’m so looking forward to the rest of bitchin’ because it has been so so so good and I love the way that you’re developing the characters and the plot. I hope you have a wonderful day!!

Anonymous said: just finished bitchin 5 and ................ i cant believe how ure able to write jungkook to Life and characterize him in such an attractive way it makes it so artistic and aknejdjdj it’s art it’s everything

Anonymous said: Argh the grind is real! I’m about to start my exams too so we can both be working our asses off! Also Bitchin is such a great series and I wanted to let you know you’re an amazing writer!!! The series made me so emotionally invested in the characters and I can’t get enough of it!! ITS SO GOOODDD THANK YOU FOR WRITING SUCH A MASTERPIECE

sanniinnas said: Hiii! Love your writings soo much! You have such a talent with words! You inspire me as a writer and make me want to learn writing and English better.

Anonymous said: I am seriously laughing from the asks that have been send to you and i cannot wait to read the ff because now i am busy :( also random fact, my biology teacher told us aboit Rosa Franklin and i already knew about her, and all i could keep thinking was bitchin pt5 and i started laughing. They thought i was a maniac 😎🤙

Anonymous said: just wanted to say bitchin’ is *chefs kiss* and i can’t wait for part 7 🥺 i’m not trynna rush you i’m just excited 🥺

nochusbutt said: okay but FIRST OF ALL, YES BITCHIN’ YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. secondly, my name is Rose too I’m so, what? omg yes I literally share a name with a legend. quote me!! 🥰☺️🤪

Anonymous said: Ahhh I am so excited for Bitchin Pt 6!!! No exaggeration this is my all time favorite fic, I think ab it a lot honestly. Whenever I see 80s aesthetic BTS edits I think of Bitchin and lots of love songs make me think of this fic too. I’m not a huge fan of smut but this fic is just so good. The OCs and Jks interactions are precious and I’m obsessed with the 80s theme! I am a huge fan of angst so I am ready to cry my eyes out. Thank you for writing this amazing fic

Anonymous said: aight...time to go re-read bitchin again ....[insert /ah shit, here we go again/ video]

Anonymous said: I CANT WAIT FOR BITCHIN

hear-me-growl said: Wait! Bitchin' is not done?! It's one of my favourite fics ever! I love the whole cliche college vibe, the dialogues are sooo good and the chemistry between Jk and the girl it's just perfect, really. And now you tell me it's not finished.😱 I AM SO EXCITED! you've made my day! Keep up the good work, you are amazing 😍

Anonymous said: AAAAAAAA THE BITCHIN UPDATE WAS SO GOOD !!!!! but also Kiri that bItCh y/n don’t fall for it 🤡😩

Anonymous said: i want sleep but BITCHIN

Anonymous said: IM PUMPED FOR BITCHINYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Anonymous said: Thankyou for updating bitchin sis!!!! But im so sad because this is their first fight(?) i hope they can talk about it and hoping kiri doesnt talk nonsense tp y/n ok :( but I AM GLAD JUNGKOOK REALIZE HE LIKES OC OKEY OKEY! 💜💜💜 sending 💜💜💜💜 to you because you deserve it👏🏼

diortae said: rose I have class in a few minutes and all I can think about is how much I want bitchin jk to raw me what have u DONE

Anonymous said: BITCHIN WAS GREATTTT 🥰 RLLY CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTT 🥺🥺

sunnyoongles said: bitchin is literally so good*chefs kiss* i love angst*chefs kiss* i love drama*chefs kiss* i just love the whole rewind series*chefs kiss*

Anonymous said: BITCHIN’ PART 6 EXCUSE ME STOP TRYING TO HURT MY FEELINGS IM NOT READY FOR THE ANGST

ppampin said: so yesterday i read bitchin pt. 6 three times in a row because it was just so good and now i can't wait to pt. 7 to come out

Anonymous said: Finally got to read bitchin 6, WTF IS GOING ON!? I’m so confused!! Do I trust my so called boyfriend or do I trust “girl code” by my boo’s ex who tried to scare me away from my boo the first time we met ??!!?

Anonymous said: i really need to know something about bitchin 🤔 is kiri a bitch or we don't have feminine rivalry here? help me out rose

Anonymous said: It is almost 1 am in here and I have a morning class but guess who is gonna binge re read all the Bitchin because the last chapter was so good?? 🤔

Anonymous said: I’m so ready for you to break our hearts in bitchin. I live for the angst 😭😭😪

Anonymous said: Rose you are KILLING ME with this story like I'm not even caught up on my favorite TV shows this week but goddammit I still made time for Bitchin' 💕💕💕

cheeky-kookie said: Girl I am sooooo fucking happy with Bitchin' 6. Like I love the small progressions Jungkook is having coming to terms with his actual feelings with Y/N. Also btw, loving the whole Yara/Tae moments going on ;) As always, I'm in love. Thank you for blessing us with this masterpiece

Anonymous said: Rosie !! I just read Bitchin’ and BIIIIITCH you have my feelings on a rollercoaster !!!!!! I’ve never been so invested in a fanfic like this and imma tell you how much I appreciate you for putting your work out on the internet. Especially for free like wtf ! Your writings are some quaLITY shit that I would purchase without hesitation 👌🏽👏🏽 I was wondering if you ever considered going into the writing career ? Anyways have a lovely day 💛💛 -MC

Anonymous said: This ch 6 getting all the attention away from my precious zombie Jungkook 😤 But who am I to say I love Bitchin😂😍 This Kiri better not be playing dirty games we are already not in good terms with her 🧐 And why is nobody talking about the fact that Y/N finally got her event she dreamed of?? Congrats girlll 🎊🎉🥳👌👏

Anonymous said: EXCUSE ME DID I READ THAT U SAID BITCHIN WILL BE ANGSTY FROM HERE ON OUT WBAT MY HEART I CANG FJSHSHDJS

sapphireprinces5 said: I am 1000% not ready for angst between the precious y/n and Jungkook in Bitchin’ omfg i’m honestly terrified and going to buy some tissues from the cvs across the street

Anonymous said: I JUST FINISHED READING BITCHIN 6 AND JUNGKOOK PLS TELL ME THAT JUNGKOOK IS OVER KIRI )))): he couldn’t have been lying about the way he felt for y/n even though it was reheated, right??? I’m SADD. But Rose, you are so beyond talented!!! I love reading your works!!!

Anonymous said: Ok, Rose you gotta let me know if Bitchin’ will have a happy ending, because I don’t know if my emotions can handle an upseti spaghetti ending. Anywho I love you and your writing, everything is chefs kiss. 💗

Anonymous said: bitchin will have 10 parts?????? ma'am u got the power

Anonymous said: OKAY SO BITCHIN’ IS AMAZING AND LIKE— I LOVE (1) DUMB “”””COUPLE”””” Your writing is amazing omg

Anonymous said: Me: already read bitchin completely You: reblogs pt.6 Me: a little refresher wouldn’t hurt 👀

Anonymous said: I wish u the best during your hiatus!!! Take lots of care bby :3 Just wanted to tell you how much I love the 'Bitchin' series, I'm shooketa at how well written it is. Y/N is a really refreshing character, especially as an STEM major myself, it's so relatable to some extent, especially when it comes to appreciating compliments about your inteligence, that really got me, since it's kinda unsual. I hope I found a Jungkook one day then :') jk, but really, I absolutely loved it, you're the best!!!

Anonymous said: hi just so u r aware if u make the end of bitchin’ sad i will cry. that will be on u. my tears will be UR fault.

Anonymous said: i just wanted to say thank you. when bitchin’ came out, there was a part where y/n talks about why she hated her twin sisters. it was comforting to know that i wasn’t alone in feeling uncool or boring. i never brought up my brother because i thought people would see how uncool i was and so i put my effort into school instead. thanks for bringing me comfort and for pushing me to love myself more and to change my viewpoints on the parts of myself i view as boring!!!!! 💛💛💛💛💛💛🌼

this made me :’))) i love knowing that you can find comfort in my characters!!! there is a little piece of me in all my characters but I do try to make them all somewhat different so that other people can relate. best of luck lovely!!

purplealiensblog said: Yo ily and cant wait for the next chapter of bitchin but i have to share: i got a notif on a new chapter and was all excited and then i discover its tumblr being glitchy again and notifying me on the last one :( i hope you will find time soon to write the rest and thank you for writing i love your work🥰♥️

Anonymous said: BITCH I JUST FINISHED READING BITCHIN IN JUST ONE DAY AND NOW I’M CRYING BECAUSE THIS IS MY NEW FAVORITE FIC OF ALL TIME!!!.!.!.! (also sorry my bad englisheu i’m not native lmao)

Anonymous said: HELLO LOVELY AAAAAAAA IM HAPPY YOURE BACK 😩 are u reallyback tho? Hehe im so shookt with the new chapter of bitchin’ has me yearning for more😭 im def a proud bitchinator😔👏 tHANK YOU FOR THIS GIFT BEFORE CHRISTMAS😃 WE LOVE U!!!!💜 we MISSED YOU!! 💜 i hope u are loved and happy and cared for! 💜K

Anonymous said: Hi there !!I hope your doing well ! Taking your time to recover and work on yourself I literally just finshed bitchin to the last update and oof I just gotta tell you what the f How do you write the characters so well... I love me some good characterization like oof ICANNOT JJK IS SO I WANNA SMOOSH HIM IN MY ARMS LIKE PLEASE THE STORY IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING HAHA I HOPE IM NOT SCARING YOU WITHMY CAPSLOCK I just wish to sincerely get my excitement across hahaha I love you boo take care x

nonecesitodenadie said: I rarely send asks but... I'm reading bitchin and I'M LOVING IT, really it's amazing i hope that you can continue it, i send you much love and thanks for your work you're so talented 🥺❤️

Anonymous said: can i just say bitchin' is honest to god such a good good good fic like i'm so in l*ve with it 😩 i've probably reread it thrice waiting for a new update ): i also happen to love your other works so much as well!!

sydney--chan said: Okay so no cap yesterday I was talking to my friend (who also reads your work) about me and my bf n she was like "he loves you the way Bitchin' jk loves Y/N aND I SOBBED ROSE IT MADE ME CRY FOR HOURS

usagionthem00n said: Lol I know you’ve been kinda quiet on here BUT IM HERE TO PLATONICALLY HARASS U???(tbh idk I’m just trying to find a reason to bother you) I-I miss u 👉👈 HOPE THIS POST MADE U SMILE ILL BE BACK BITCH (Um speaking of bitches I still need to join the bitchinators :/) I PROMISE ILL GET TO IT!!!

Anonymous said: HIIII! so, one night I spent about two hours trying to find another great Jungkook story... I was losing hope in finding one BUT THEN I FOUND “BITCHIN” and omg it’s amazing, I absolutely love it!!!!! take care always, have a great day!! thank you for creating such a beautiful story.

Anonymous said: Can I just say.... bitchin is so good! like it’s been so long since I’ve liked a fic as much as bitchin??!!? Everything about it has me like :)))) so yes just wanted to let u know hehe

Anonymous said: IM ACTUALLY OBSESSED W THE “BITCHIN” SERIES YOU DONT EVEN KNOW 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

SO MANY OF U LOVIN ON BITCHIN!! MAYHAPS IM OVERWHELMED (in the best way possible). Thank u everyone who sent an ask in, i am the happiest bean in bed rn reading all these asks C:

#ask #I DID ITTTTT #jk tho there are actually a few more ones about bitchin but imma make another post I think #Anonymous

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elfboyeros · 4 years

Text

Gender Identity and a Sense of Belong

I had a research paper do for English and I just finished it and I thought as well as turning it in to my professor I would post it here for you all to read.

Please boost I would love her this to get around!

Have pairs of anything is always pleasing. Socks, shoes, earrings, bookends, and gender. Well, gender is in fact more than two. Since we like to think the world is black and white, we have come to say there are two genders, male and female. Although there are two sexes male and female and a multiple of genders always known as gender identities. Transgender, nonbinary, genderqueer, agender, genderfluid, and the many of the names for the way people are feeling about their gender that is not in a sociology textbook. Within the paragraphs of this paper the intended purpose is to explain how those who identity outside of the two gender norm by explaining: how society is initially treating those who are gender nonconforming, how and why the internet is a place for gender nonconforming people to feel like they truly belong, and, finally, how society is reacting to gender nonconforming societal changes.

First off, everyone has the freedom to do as they please, religious and speech freedom is stated in the first amendment. Although those in the realm of people that are gender nonconforming and those in the LGBTQ+ community get the short end metaphorical stick for decades. From Stonewall in 1969 to citizen being afraid of letting two consenting, gay, adult have the right to get married in 2015 the world has always been afraid (because that is what a phobia is) of the LGBTQ+ community. For example: The Trump administration repealed the Obama administration’s law to although those who are transgender to serve in the military in 2019 (4) Those who’s that identify not as the sex they were born as would have to get an official diagnosis of gender dysphoria to serve as the gender they identified with (4). This is bigotry at its finest. Gender should not matter when serving and fighting for your country. What should matter is that as you go into the fight alive you come out alive whether you are male, female, transgender, or nonbinary. For more examples: the electronic billboard advertisements in Norway that use gender recognition technologies to pulls ad for a person that is walking by (2). Although when these billboards have someone that comes across that doesn’t follow gender norms, possibly meaning those who are transgender, nonbinary, and ectara, the billboards flash an error code (2). That is all well and if it didn’t mean that the people programing the system with the norms in mind. The billboards flashing an error when someone walks pass just because they are gender nonconforming could be proceed as they are not valid. As another example: In The article/audio film "When the Conversation Doesn't Include You: LGBTQ+ Sex Ed In A Small Town" it remarks on the fight and debate in Allendale, Michigan when teacher Tiffany Harp when she explaining gender identity for the students in her family and relationships. Of course, when the parents found out that LGBTQ+ topics where mention to their children it started pleads from parents to not teach LGBTQ+ topic in sex education, although it is not that was being taught anyway. Allendale’s citizens with their religious background may have good intentions where parents- not schools- could teach their children about sex. Although, the citizen of Allendale are clearly acting this way because of their faith and values as in this quote here: “When you fundamentally discredit the very nature of God's creation of our youth as a male or female, you are seeking to discredit God.” LGBTQ+ issues and topics need to mention in school’s sex education as the only place that queer youth could find out about the topic would be LGBTQ+ centers or on the internet, an internet that can become a safe for said queer youth.

Secondly, the internet is a safe place for more people then the world thinks. The internet, since his creation, has become a place for many to form a community. With the LGBTQ+ that is more than an understatement! The internet has become a source of education (5) for many and aid to understand how a person is feelings about either their sexuality or gender identity or even both, as most defining terms are well now. Although some of those safe places could be taken away. Tumblr, a popular microblogging site, made the decision to ban adult content from there site, that in the past was more then okay with the adult content on the site (5). Even though, a large percent of the userbase was against the changes and the databased used flags post that are not adult content this system use hurts those who are apart of the LGBTQ+ community. Post that just two men kiss without any adult content are being reported and flagged (5). Those who are reporting post just showing pride for their sexual orientation and gender identity seem to be out of a distant for those communities. Although the past has been proven that if those distant a community want said community gone, they will try their hardest to get rid of that community. So, as the internet has become a place for those to be education of LGBTQ+ topic when they can’t go to a center, but system it place to simply get rid of adult content can by proxy and unintentionally effect community that have used to create safe places can be destroyed.

Additionally, even with the bigotry in world and the destruction of safe spaces, society seems like it is taking some right turns. Workplaces are becoming more accepting of gender natural pronouns like them and they, along with have gender natural bathrooms for those who feel uncomfortable use the men’s or women’s restroom (3). Children are being raised to be accept of those who are different (1). Teenagers are seeing that there is more then just boy and girl in the world (6). Which is nice to see as studies are finding that teenagers are identify themselves as nonbinary, genderfluid, ectara (7). The world is finding that as we go on there are more gender the female and man, that yes there are two sexes, but many genders and that is based on how people feel about themselves. Studies are showing that there are more and more people at identify outside of gender norms. It would be then natural for people at workplaces, school, and just out in public to be at least respectful to others. When those who are gender nonconforming feel respected they feeling validated and like they truly belong within our society instead of ostracized because of the way they identify. We still have a long way to go, yes. There is still a large amount of bully to those who are identifying as transgender or gender nonconforming. Are still things that need to be solve when it comes to aiding those who are gender nonconforming, of course. As the world is slowly becoming accepting it is validating many who are gender nonconforming who feel like that are “wrong” or “not normal” as the destroy norms with how they identify. Our world is slowly working up to being accept of those who are LGBTQ+ and that all they could ask for.

To restate, within the paragraphs of this paper the intended purpose is to explain how those who identity outside of the two gender norm by explaining: how society is initially treating those who are gender nonconforming, how and why the internet is a place for gender nonconforming people to feel like they truly belong, and, finally, how society is reacting to gender nonconforming societal changes. Now, our society doesn’t fully accept those who are gender nonconforming. The gender natural pronouns They/Them confuse people because it is “improper English.” Although the English is a big ball of weird. Nevertheless, when change happens any area of society people become scared. Change is something that everyone is scared. Although the underlying message here is that those who are gender non-conforming are alive, here, and proud to be themselves, all they wish is to live a normal life like those who are gender conforming.

Work Cited

1. Gülgöz, Selin, et al. "Gender essentialism in transgender and cisgender children." PLoS ONE, vol. 14, no. 11, 2019, p. e0224321. Gale In Context: Opposing Viewpoints, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A605688449/OVIC?u=kctcshocc&sid=OVIC&xid=4247aa5c. Accessed 30 Mar. 2020.

2.Hamidi, Foad, et al. "Gender is personal – not computational." Gale Opposing Viewpoints Online Collection, Gale, 2020. Gale In Context: Opposing Viewpoints, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/OUOMEE024247677/OVIC?u=kctcshocc&sid=OVIC&xid=4526e1a4 Accessed 30 Mar. 2020. Originally published as "Gender is personal – not computational," The Conversation, 15 May 2018.

3."He, She, They: Workplaces Adjust As Gender Identity Norms Change." Morning Edition, 16 Oct. 2019, p. NA. Gale In Context: Opposing Viewpoints, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A603375022/OVIC?u=kctcshocc&sid=OVIC&xid=8535c9a5. Accessed 30 Mar. 2020.

4."How The Trump Administration's Transgender Troop Ban Is Affecting One Military Family." All Things Considered, 11 Apr. 2019. Gale In Context: Opposing Viewpoints,

https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A582648832/OVIC?u=kctcshocc&sid=OVIC&xid=65320110. Accessed 30 Mar. 2020.

5.Macapagal, Kathryn. "Tumblr's 'Adult Content' Ban Will Hurt LGBTQ Teens." Gale Opposing Viewpoints Online Collection, Gale, 2020. Gale In Context: Opposing Viewpoints, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/LTHOUD101996867/OVIC?u=kctcshocc&sid=OVIC&xid=d9052f5d. Accessed 30 Mar. 2020. Originally published as "How Tumblr's 'Adult Content' Ban Could Hurt LGBTQ Teens," Rewire.News, 12 Dec. 2018.

6."More US teens are rejecting 'boy' or 'girl' gender identities, a study finds." CNN Wire, 6 Feb. 2018. Gale In Context: Opposing Viewpoints, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A526511775/OVIC?u=kctcshocc&sid=OVIC&xid=3849a234 Accessed 30 Mar. 2020.

7."Teens And Gender." Weekend Edition Sunday, 11 Feb. 2018. Gale In Context: Opposing Viewpoints, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A529606182/OVIC?u=kctcshocc&sid=OVIC&xid=7d0e9815. Accessed 30 Mar. 2020.

8."When The Conversation Doesn't Include You: LGBTQ+ Sex Ed In A Small Town." All Things Considered, 1 Apr. 2019. Gale In Context: Opposing Viewpoints, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A580916753/OVIC?u=kctcshocc&sid=OVIC&xid=e274d7b7. Accessed 30 Mar. 2020.

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saxxxology · 6 years

Text

THE CURSED - Ch.1

Being an English Princess in 1739 is everything for Y/N, a Princess from a prosperous, powerful kingdom, to be happy about… until her parents arrange for her to marry a Prince from a nearby kingdom against her wishes. Unable to join her on her journey, the Royal family hires the Winchesters, two experienced Rangers, to guide her. However, the Princess and the younger brother begin to display affection for each other, and when her heat threatens her life, Sam makes a possibly deadly decision to save it.

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

WORD COUNT: ~2000

OVERALL WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics (heat/rut, claiming, knotting), age gap, smut of varying levels, descriptions of injury and gore, a tad of dub-con and 18th-century sexism from time to time, occasional bits of angst, fighting, and violence, eventual minor character death

NOTE: Edited by @crispychrissy and @quiddy-writes - please heed all warnings! Please keep in mind that this series is set in the 18th century - society is not what it is today. I do not control where your eyes go; if you feel disturbed or think something may trigger you, it is your responsibility to either stop reading or scroll past.

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THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY. DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ON ANY OTHER SITES.

The Winchesters were known for their knowledge of the land. Expert trackers and hunters both, they could tell at a single glance which plants grew where and which ones could be eaten and whether it would rain, snow, or shine.

They were also known for their size: the older brother, Dean, stood just over six feet tall. Around his neck, he carried a portrait of his Omega, Joanna Beth, in a locket around his neck, and he dressed in the linen garments of a traveler, with a heavy leather jacket to keep out the cold, and a long, silver sword with a pearly white handle.

The younger of the two, Samuel, stood well over his elder brother, six-foot-five at least. He wore a long, heavy fur coat in the fall, winter, and spring that only added to his size, and as to the source of the garment, he was highly secretive. Nobody knew if he’d ever had an Omega, but nearing twenty-eight, he should have taken one years earlier.

Their horses were equal to their masters: Dean kept a tall, powerful black mare named Pala. She had a fire in her dark eyes and was often rambunctious and eager to move as fast as her long legs could carry her. Sam’s own horse, Shadow, was a large gray Clydesdale that could make the ground quake under her hooves at a full gallop.

Either way, next to the average person, both of them were giants and that rendered them intimidating even to the most well-trained soldier. Their sheer size combined with Alpha genetics made them a formidable duo that no roadside bandit would dare to attack or steal from—those who had tried had ended up dead.

A Lord and Lady from a kingdom in Western England had enlisted their aid to help their young daughter travel to the kingdom where she was to be married. They were warned, however, that the girl in question was an Omega, and that as Alphas, their charge was to get safely from the castle she’d lived in since birth to the place she would wed a Beta husband. They were offered generous compensation for their efforts, and with both of them sharing limited compensation for other, much smaller tasks, they couldn’t refuse.

The young Omega, Y/N, would be traveling disguised as a young chambermaid, and that is how Sam first saw her; in the white, linen shirt, dark blue skirt, and brown bodice instead of the royal dress they were both sure she would be wearing otherwise.

“Well, she’s much smaller than most,” Dean commented, taking a swig from his silver hip flask. “Your bow is taller than she is, Sam.”

Sam watched as the royals suspiciously eyed the weapon in his hands and slung it over the saddle of his mare. “Indeed. But be polite with them, brother. They’re paying us well.”

Upon meeting Y/N, they both kissed her hand and escorted her away from her tearful family towards the horses and slung her pack over Shadow’s saddle. Sam couldn’t help but notice that being separated from her family seemed to make her happy.

A few minutes later, they set off down the road and headed onto the main path out of town, Y/N perched on the Clydesdale at the insistence of the younger Ranger. They waited until they were safely alone on the forest trail before Sam began conversation.

“Are you prepared?” He asked. “It’ll be at least a week and a half, maybe two until we reach the other castle.”

Y/N grimaced. “The longer the journey, the better.”

Sam glanced up at her. “You don’t want to marry?”

“Not in the slightest,” she replied. “They’re only marrying me off to stop a feud that’s been an occurrence since I was a child. I’ve never even met him.”

“Have you seen a portrait?” Dean inquired.

Y/N shook her head. “Never, but from what I hear, he indulges in wine, toasted bread with cheese, and attends feasts and parties as frequently as he can…”

Sam made a sound of disgust. “Why are you betrothed to him, then? Why not someone better?”

“Because,” Y/N grimaced again, “he’s what they call a prince.”

“And what do you call him?”

She smiled. “I call him a hedonist.”

***

That night, they camped in a deserted cabin well away from the road. Once the horses were tied outside, they broke out rations (bread with dried deer meat and flasks of wine) and set up a fire in the hearth. The heat of the blaze filled the room, and they quickly laid out their bedrolls in front of the fire as it died down to embers.

“Tell me, Princess,” Dean commented, “have you ever slept out of a feather bed?”

Y/N soon grasped that he was mocking her royal upbringing and frowned. “I have not, but I am capable of learning to.”

Sam chuckled at her formal response—anybody else might have given Dean a smack on the cheek. “And of walking so far? What do you think of that?”

She looked at him, and he met her gaze for a split second. There was something in her eyes, a light he hadn’t seen since…

No, he told himself, don’t think about her, for God’s sake.

“It’s only walking,” she said, staring intently into his eyes, “putting one foot in front of the other until you’re too tired to go further. My feet might be sore tonight, but tomorrow they’ll feel better, and we will continue.”

Sam tore his gaze away and stared into the orange embers as they flickered and popped sparks onto the stone floor. He felt Y/N’s eyes on him and debated scolding her about staring, but he couldn’t anger her. He must have had several years on her in age, but she was still rather young, barely past adulthood. And she was nobility, whereas he and his brother were just roaming travelers with histories they would rather not share.

***

Two days later, they were all on very good terms, talking, joking, and laughing. Around midday, they passed a grove of cherry trees and spent a good hour harvesting the sweet fruit. A while later, they were able to sneak into a field of cows and fill their glass bottles with thick, rich milk. The sun beat down overhead, so they set up their camp early in a secluded area next to a creek and allowed Pala to wander in the shallow water. Dean set the bottles of milk in a circle of rocks and allowed the chilly water to wash over them.

That night, they enjoyed a bigger meal; two slabs of cured pork they’d purchased from a small market early that morning, fresh bread, cherries, and cool, sweet milk. Dean spewed even more bawdy jokes, and Sam spread his fur cape over the ground, allowing him and Y/N to sit comfortably on the cold forest floor. Somehow, she ended up leaning against him, laughing as Dean told her the answer to a joke that might have gotten him hung if he’d been in a royal court.

Her hand brushed against Sam’s, and he felt a jolt run through him, something he’d only felt once before.

No, not a chance in Hell. She couldn’t be…

“Sam,” Dean had seen him flinch and looked over to see if an ember had jumped from the fire and landed on him, “everything all right?”

Sam nodded and rolled his shoulders. “Everything’s fine.”

Y/N had jumped at the sensation as well, and she was now clutching at the hem of her skirt, eyes squeezed shut. Out of pure instinct, Sam went to touch her again, but withdrew his hand when she opened her eyes and took a deep breath.

He smelled it on the next breeze that filtered through the trees. The sweet, apple-blossom scent of her. Dean obviously smelled it too, but it didn’t affect him as it affected his younger brother.

“If I may,” Sam cleared his throat. “Y/N—Princess… When are you due for your next…”

She swallowed and blushed furiously in the firelight. “I… I’m not entirely sure, I only just presented last year and they’re not completely regular yet, but I’d say any day? I’m taking herbs to suppress it, but I’ve never been allowed around Alphas…”

Sam grunted quietly and looked at the flickering flames. “You’ll be safe. We just need to be careful.”

“Careful?” Y/N looked between them.

“Alphas,” Dean supplied. “If they smell you, they’ll want to claim you. And they won’t listen to morals, if they have any.”

Y/N shivered with fear and looked at Sam. “But I’ll be safe, right?”

“Yes,” Sam glanced back at her. “I’ll keep you safe. That’s my job.”

“Our job,” Dean corrected him. “It’s our job to keep you safe.”

Sam nodded at the correction and stood. “I’m going to sleep. You should both do the same.”

Dean poured water on the flames, allowing only embers to light their campsite. They washed their faces, hands, and slid under their blankets, heads on their traveling packs.

Sam waited patiently until Y/N and his brother were fast asleep and then stepped away through the trees, making sure he was hidden by one of the taller pines before he rubbed his hand over the bulge in his trousers. He was hard as he’d ever been and hadn’t pleasured himself since the night before they’d reached her castle. The feeling and scent of Y/N had completely aroused him, and he licked his lips, imagining that she was lying in his bed, naked, legs parted to expose her wet, warm sex. If she was a pure Omega, she’d be bare, and he’d sink into her with nothing but her soft cunt lips caressing the hardened flesh of his manhood.

Tugging himself from his trousers, he began stroking his hand slowly back and forth, bracing himself against the tree as he closed his eyes. In his mind, Y/N was under him, hips arched up to meet his, legs spread wide for him as he entered her, the feeling of her around him warm and smooth and wet. She was small enough to be perfectly tight, he knew it, and he held back a needy groan as he felt drops of his own arousal slick his fingers.

“Y/N,” he allowed himself to mutter her name, quietly. He could almost feel her around him, hear her whimpers of pleasure and pain. To him, the sound of their sex was loud and brutal, almost borderline torture, but their bond prevented it from being anywhere close to that.

He let out a breathy swear as he felt himself begin to peak. Growling with pleasure, he dug his fingers against the rough bark of the tree as, in his mind, he pounded her into oblivion, pressing into her wet heat and spilling himself deep inside.

With a low growl, he gave himself two more long, desperate strokes and came hard. He was so receptive to her presence that his knot swelled in his hand, and hot, thick ropes of his seed landed on the dirt at his feet. He gave a shuddering breath and tipped his head back as his climax washed over him, legs trembling with the force of it.

Finally, when he was able to think clearly, he waited for his knot to recede and quickly tucked himself back in his pants. Retracing his steps to the campsite, he cleaned his hands using a cup of water from their washing bucket and slipped back into his makeshift bed.

Y/N was fast asleep, her blankets tucked down around her waist as the warm summer breeze washed over them. He watched the way her eyelids twitched in her sleep and the rise and fall of her chest under her dress, and he smiled to himself as her scent wafted towards him.

“Sleep tight, Princess,” he murmured, before sinking into sleep himself.

If you want to see chapter 2, reblog and leave a comment! Feedback is my fuel!

TAGS FOR THIS SERIES ARE CLOSED

Forever tags: @atc74 @artisticlunarmakeup @becaamm @bamby0304 @crispychrissy @crashdevlin @curly-haired-disaster @cameronbraswell @emoryhemsworth @ellen-reincarnated1967 @kittenofdoomage @kayteonline @kdfrqqg @littlegreenplasticsoldier @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @manawhaat @mereka18 @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @oneshoeshort @percussiongirl2017 @serpentbaby @smallgirlbigpersonality @thelittleredwhocould @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @85natalie @81mysteriouslyme

#alpha!sam x omega!reader #the cursed series

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drizzitwrites · 6 years

Text

Football RPF Challenge - Day 8: Doing Something Cute

Today’s scene is from the fic I plan to write AFTER I finally get this WIP I’ve been working on since July done and published.

Based off of yesterday and how much time and energy I usually have on Thursdays, I fully expected that this would be yet another day of me trying to write new content, it falling flat, and me just ending up editing something from my current active WIP instead, since the whole thing starts off with some bits about Vincent trying to do super cute things for Christian.

BUT! This morning while brushing my teeth it occurred to me that I could also work on a scene from the next fic that has to get written (which, as always, could have been considered for both yesterday's theme of "doing something stupid" AND today's theme of "doing something cute" since with these two one is also usually the other, let's be real). Anyway, I'm going to attempt to write this new scene and we'll see how it goes. Ideally it will work since the being cute bits in the other fic have already rather been edited to death so I could only very marginally say "well I edited those other bits so I still made progress for today." You'd have to squint at it rather side-eyed in order for it to be plausible.

[POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR CURRENT WIP AND FOR THE NEXT FIC IN THE SERIES]

Today's scene--Vincent has decided to have surgery to fix an injury that's plagued him for nearly a year now. It's fairly minor and routine and he's perfectly capable of going through it himself and relying on the Spurs staff to get him situated since it's a weekday and Christian, et al have training.

Christian has other plans and manages to talk his way out of training to be there in hospital when Vincent wakes up.

What you need to know is that at this point the whole team (or 95% of it at least) knows about Christian and Vincent's relationship but Christian is still coming to terms with that and what it means and it's still not something he's keen to talk about widely (or at all).

Vincent blinked his eyes open into harsh white overhead lights shining daggers into his skull, then let out a groan and instinctively tried to raise his left arm to throw a hand over his eyes.

He immediately regretted everything about every single one of these actions as a sharp pain shot through his arm starting at the top of his hand and radiating upward all the way to his shoulder. This made him follow up the groan with a loud yelp and some highly uncomplimentary phrases in Dutch.

To his left, a far too cheerful voice tells him to "hold still, please. You'll rip out your IV," and he remembers...

Hospital. Surgery. To repair the foot he'd injured back in December and stubbornly decided to not do anything about until now.

He lay back, dropping his hand to the rough cotton of the sheet, and closed his eyes against the fluorescent lights. Around him, sounds started filtering back in--the hums and beeps of the machines surrounding his bed, clatter of carts and murmur of voices flowing past the open door to his room, rush and bustle of a busy London hospital.

Once more, the cheerful voice, and Vincent now remembered it as belonging to Asima, the anaesthesiologist who had prepped him for the procedure, her large, dark eyes kind as she held his hand and slipped the syringe into his IV.

Her face, round and expressive, framed by the deep green of her hijab, had been the last thing he'd seen before he'd drifted away into oblivious sleep.

"...alright?" she asked, and Vincent blinked his eyes open once more, this time holding them in a half-squint in an attempt to ward off some of the harsh white glare.

"Wat...?" Vincent asked, the word slipping out in Dutch instead of English.

This, for some reason, put him in a brief panic that oh, God, he might have forgotten how to speak English and here he was in England and getting ready for a hopeful move back to Turkey and he'd never be able to communicate with anyone ever again--before his brain kicked back into gear and he let out a laugh at the absurdity of that entire scenario.

That laugh led to another, then another, until he was giggling uncontrollably for absolutely no reason. Asima let it happen, going about her work as though a grown man laying in a hospital bed with tubes coming out of his hand and machines beeping out his vital signs laughing his head off about seemingly nothing was just another Monday afternoon for her. Maybe it was, who was Vincent to say?

"Is that..." A different voice, low and soft and strong; cut through with an undercurrent of concern that, for once, Christian didn't sound like he was even bothering to conceal. "Is everything okay?"

Vincent flicked his eyes open once more, then dropped his head to the right in the direction of Christian's voice. His eyes scanned past dull beige walls and gleaming metal fixtures, everything polished and sterile and clean. He twisted and shifted, ignoring the prick of pain in his hand as the motion shifted the IV needle as his eyes finally landed on he familiar figure perched on the edge of one of the chairs slid into the corner of the room, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on Vincent.

"Christiaan," he said, the word coming out a bit raspy and breathless as though his voice hadn't been used in a few days, although in reality the surgery had only been scheduled for a few hours. "Je bent er nog steds."

Maybe he really had forgotten English.

Insistent pressure against his shoulder and Christian looked up, eyes focused above and behind Vincent's bed to where Asima still stood, pressing Vincent back down into the too hard mattress.

"Sit back, please," she said.

Vincent rolled his head back towards Asima, who once again stood over him, dark eyes staring down at him expectantly.

"Are you doing alright?"

"Ja," Vincent said and then "Godverdamme. Yes. I mean yes. I mean...I'm good, just...ugggghhhhhh."

He lifted his hands again, wanting nothing more than to scrub at his eyeballs in some vain attempt to wipe away the lingering fog still filling up his brain. His right hand lifted free, but he once again let out a yelp as the IV sent a stabbing pain shooting up his arm.

"Vincent?" Christian's voice again, closer this time and now laced with a vague panic. A familiar hand wrapped around Vincent's own, long fingers twining with his own, skin hot and damp with sweat.

"I'm fine, Lieveke," Vincent said, still speaking in Dutch, although this time less for a lack of capacity for English than out of habit. "Just..." He took a breath. "Trying to make my brain work in English."

The last bit, he actually managed to say in English, which he took as a good sign. He was probably on the road to recovery with no lasting damage. To his brain, at least. He had no idea what the state of his foot might be, except now that the anaesthetic was wearing off he was starting to notice the sharp pulsating throbs of pain radiating through his foot and his leg.

He squeezed Christian's hand tighter against the sensation, and Christian returned the grip.

"I am...good," Vincent repeated, this time for Asima's benefit. "Is everything...?"

"The surgery went well," she said. "Everything went according to plan. We need to keep you here for a bit longer for some observation and to make sure there aren't any unforeseen complications, but you should be ready to return home this evening."

Christian breathed out a sigh that it sounded like he'd been holding in for most of the day, then gave Vincent's hand another squeeze. "Good. That's good news. I can...oh--"

He trailed off, abruptly straightening up and stepping back from Vincent's bedside, although he didn't release his grasp on Vincent's hand. "Liefje, will you...I have to make a phone call or two. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?"

"Oke," Vincent said, not letting go of Christian's hand. "But...where are you going?"

Christian brushed a hand across Vincent's forehead, sweeping back the sweat damp fringe of his hair that had fallen out of place. He leaned over the curved metal railing running the length of the bed and pressed a kiss to the centre of Vincent's forehead, his lips cool and dry against Vincent's skin.

"I'm going to make sure everything is perfect for when it's time to get you home. A few minutes, Liefje, I promise. I know you're fine, and I trust Asima here to take the best care of you, but I don't want to let you out of my sight for a minute longer than I have to."

Vincent shook his head and let out a low chuckle of a laugh. "You are ridiculous, you know that?"

Christian's eyes wide and Vincent could see a thousand emotions all flooding behind them--fear and helplessness and relief and apprehension and love--and Vincent knew that if the roles were reversed he wouldn't be keeping things together half as well as Christian was. The surgery had been minor and routine, and Vincent was in peak physical condition. But just because you knew, rationally, that everything was going to be okay, that didn't mean the non-rational parts of your brain would let you believe it.

"I'll be fine,Christiaan," Vincent said, unlinking his fingers from Christian's and pulling him back down for another kiss. This time, Vincent shifted, still mindful of the IV and assorted tubes running out of his left arm, and sliding upward in his bed until his lips met Christian's.

He wrapped a hand around the back of Christian's neck, pressing him in closer. Christian's lips parted, and Vincent took the opportunity to swipe his tongue against Christian's teeth. He was rewarded with a small gasp, and Christian opened his mouth wider, crushing his mouth harder against Vincent's. Slide of tongue against tongue, scent of Christian's cologne filling Vincent's nose and the faint hint of citrus and mint lingering on Christian's tongue.

From Vincent's left, Asima let out a small, deliberate cough. Christian all but leapt backwards, mouth still open, eyes wide, both hands in the air in front of him--as though he'd been caught in the middle of some sort of nefarious criminal activity.

"Sorry to...interrupt," Asima said. "It's just...I need to ask a few questions and check some of your vital signs. Plus, well..." Her bronze skin flushed pink and she cleared her throat again. "If your heart rate or pressures elevate too much I'd have to call in a medical team. So..."

"Oh, god," Christian gasped, his face nearly tomato red now, and Vincent couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, though he could feel the heat creeping into his own ears and cheeks.

"I'd better..." Christian said, holding up his phone. "Back soon."

He turned towards the door, not quite running towards the corridor, but walking with purpose as he jabbed at the screen of his mobile.

"Christiaan," Vincent called out just as he reached the doorway, and Christian stopped in his tracks and spun to face him, phone now dangling in a loose grip at his side as he focused all his attention on Vincent.

"Bedankt," Vincent said. "For being here. I really...it means a lot."

Christian shook his head and gave Vincent a warm smile. "Where else would I be, Liefje? Now listen to Asima and I'll be back soon."

Vincent nodded and returned Christian's smile, his whole body glowing with the warmth of Christian's affection. "Oke. Ik hou van je."

"Ik hou ook van jou. Zo veel."

Christian flashed Vincent an awkward wave, then disappeared out the door and around the corner.

#football rpf #football rpf challenge #30-day football rpf challenge #30-day writing challenge #christian eriksen x vincent janssen #november writing #writing #drizzit writes #thoughts on writing and life

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firethatgrewsolow · 7 years

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Mich and Rob - The Christmas Edition

**Hey there, I know you guys probably hate these little asides, but this one is compulsory. :-) The anon that sparked this vignette likely has no idea what they’ve done. Take your anti-nausea meds, bc this one’s over the top. It’s my wildest dream (not in a kinky way, don’t get excited lol). It breaks the barrier in terms of fluff, sentimentality, and downright ridiculousness, but I loved writing every single word. A Christmas fantasy … oh, and nsfw. PS - thank you @ladygrange for being so kind and patient. You are too good to be true. And thank you @waywaydowninside for your jewelry expertise!**

Michelle awoke to the quiet rattle of the glass panes beside the bed, her lips curving at what awaited her. A soft blanket of pearly white covered the ground, and more was gently falling, swirling in the breeze. Mindful that Robert was still asleep, she slowly eased onto her side, poring over the scene. Bella will be so happy. It was exactly the Christmas they’d hoped for, snowy, idyllic, like a fairy tale or a Norman Rockwell painting. Except I’m in Wales now, she mused contentedly. The day was reserved for just the three of them, as Robert’s family had left the previous evening, and Melody’s brood wasn’t due until the following afternoon. Michelle relished the idea of a handful of peaceful hours and perhaps a visitor or two, as the neighbors were wont to do. The calm before the storm. Her gaze returned to the endless flakes dancing this way and that. It was like a fairy tale, but then so was everything else.

Robert admired the arc of her waist, resisting the temptation to trace it with his finger. Her silhouette was so beautiful in the muted morning light as she watched her white Christmas unfold. A rare event, to be sure, but he couldn’t imagine it any other way. He slid behind her, pulling her into him as he wrapped his arms around her. “Happy Christmas, love. Or should I say Merry?” he teased, kissing the spot below her ear that he knew she loved.

Michelle smiled at the comfort of his warmth. “No, happy it is. That’s the right way to say it, isn’t it?”

“Ah, yes, you’re one of us now. Down to the proper surname.” He caressed her cheek, pecking the tip of her nose. “I knew you’d cave eventually.”

“Oh, really? Did you?” she asked, lifting a brow.

Robert cocked his head. “Yeah, I did.”

“No, you didn’t.��

“You’re right,” he admitted with a snicker. “And you waited bloody long enough to.”

Michelle ran her fingers through the curls that were dusting his shoulder, taking in the lines of his impossibly handsome face. The swell in her chest was nearly too much. “I love you. Everything about you.”

Robert brushed his lips across hers, words not adequate to relay the depth of what was in his heart. His was a charmed life, and he knew it, but he couldn’t escape the sliver of insecurity. What did he ever do to deserve her perfect devotion? And the angelic little girl that he loved so much. Christ. He swallowed back the tightness in his throat, conjuring the closest thing he could find to the truth. “I am the luckiest man that ever lived.” He carefully coaxed her on her back, cradling her face as he kissed her again. Her legs parted, instinctively folding around his waist as she clutched his shoulders. Their kiss deepened, and she arched against him, his body immediately responding. He sighed as he positioned himself, her sweet heat slowly enveloping him. “Oh, baby, I love you so much. You feel so …” He froze at the tapping on the door, expelling a tense breath as a tiny voice called out to them. “Bloody hell, she’s got impeccable timing.”

“So she does,” Michelle replied, chuckling. “I’m coming, Bella. Give me a second.” She tried to wriggle out from underneath him, but he caught her.

“You know, um, if Bella had a brother or a sister, she’d stay more … occupied.”

“Not that again.” Michelle swatted his arm. “Get off of me.”

“Just a thought, you know.” He gave her a little grin, releasing her.

The house was chilly from the long winter night, and Robert set about lighting a fire in the main living area. He smiled blissfully at Annabelle’s persistent prattle as she trailed behind him, speculating about her presents and when she could open them. Logs finally blazing, he snapped on the radio, plopping down on the broad sofa across from the hearth. He helped himself to a few of the biscuits that Michelle had laid out on the tea table, his eyes sweeping over their bountiful tree. It was draped in a wild mish-mash of delicate, glittering ornaments, coupled with popcorn strands and popsicle stick art buried in gold and silver tinsel. Three crayon drawings of Strider in Santa hats completed the picture. It was perfection.

“Can I open them now?” Bella posed in front of him with a pout, hands on hips, her scowl looking just like her mother’s. “I’ve been waiting all day.”

Robert patted the top of his thigh. “We’ve only been awake for an hour or so, darlin’. That’s hardly all day.” He hoisted her up as she climbed onto his lap. “Besides, your mum gets the final call on the day’s festivities.”

“What’s festivy?”

Amused, he kissed her cheek. “Fes-tiv-i-ty. It means, ah, having a good time. Sort of like a party.”

“Like a birthday party?”

“Exactly.” Robert breathed in deeply, having fallen under the spell of the magic mix of charred wood and spicy evergreen wafting through the room. He peered across the mantle, inspecting the array of stuffed stockings one by one. Four of them. One for each member of the family, including Strider, naturally. He gazed back to the majestic Nordmann Fir, holding Annabelle just a little bit tighter. The moment was precious and pure, and he never wanted to forget it. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the scents and sounds as Ray Charles sang about Georgia.

Michelle poured some tea, going over the items she’d laid out on the kitchen counter. They weren’t going to have a large late afternoon meal, as they’d had countless the previous few days with family. Instead, she was trying her hand at a traditional English breakfast, complete with a few Welsh additions. She warily cased the laver cakes, unconvinced that local seaweed would be delectable, but Robert had insisted. Welshman’s caviar, he’d called it, borrowing a quote from his beloved Richard Burton. She snickered, recalling his near flawless mimicry of the actor’s famous baritone. Deciding breakfast could wait, she exchanged her tea for something more spirited, puzzled by the quiet in the air. The soft hum of chatter was conspicuously absent, the only noise being the music from the radio and errant pop of the fire in the living room. Pouring a second glass of champagne for Robert, Michelle made her way there.

She spied them at once, savoring the cozy tableau. Robert had fallen asleep, and Bella lay still and nestled onto his chest, with Strider at their feet. She recorded the scene, enchanted. How lucky they were. A million to one chance that any of it would have ever happened, and yet it did. She didn’t necessarily believe in fate, but moments like this made her second guess herself. The collie lifted his head at her perusal, the tinkle of the collar Annabelle had gifted him, and that Michelle was quite sure he loathed, waking the little girl. “Are you ready, Bella?” Squealing, the child careened off her perch, racing to the stacks of brightly colored boxes sprinkled around the base of the tree.

Robert opened one eye, his mouth turning up. “I guess that’s a yes,” he said drowsily as Annabelle ransacked her treasure trove.

The afternoon passed by like lightning, fueled by an unlikely visit from the Bonham clan, as well as more than a few neighbors. It was an uproarious, happy day full of good cheer and questionable sweaters. Laughs abounded, but Michelle had to admit she felt a little grateful as the last guest made their exit. She dropped onto the couch as Robert shut the door, appraising the space, which was in shambles. Scraps of wrapping paper and Christmas crackers were strewn about, and toys littered the room. The adult versions did, too, in the form of various flutes and goblets, most empty or close to it. She glanced at the clock on the mantle, dismayed to find that it was much later than she thought. The idea of cleaning up became a bit too daunting, and, instead, she snuggled next to Robert, who’d joined her on the sofa. “Nice hat.”

“Oh, is it still on?” His hand glided to the top of his head, straightening the thin paper crown. “Not a good look?”

“So regal.”

“You’d better be nice, or you’ll move to the naughty list.” The singer drummed his fingers on the pillow beside him. “You know, on second thought, that doesn’t sound …”

Michelle quickly cleared her throat. “Bella and I have one more thing for you.”

“Really? To what do I owe the honor?”

“At the moment, I really couldn’t tell you.”

“Very cheeky. I like it. As it happens, I have one more thing for each of you, as well.” He leaned into her ear with a tipsy whisper, “Although yours is for a bit later this evening.”

“I can only imagine.” Michelle rolled her eyes, padding to the tree. “We’ll go first.” She rifled through the mounds of crumpled paper until she found a small box, which she handed to Annabelle. “Give that to your dad.” She lowered her voice, “It’s the thing you picked out for him.” Bella took the package, presenting it proudly to Robert.

“Well, what’s this? It’s not a new sled, is it?” He flipped the gift over, shaking it mightily as the little girl laughed. “I suppose not. Hmm, is it a puppy?” He grinned as Bella giggled again. “No?” His grin grew as she shook her head. “Well, then, let’s find out what it is.” He slowly tore off the paper and opened the box. In it, lay a long, thin chain. He lifted it up, the lightning bolt pendant catching a glimmer from the light of the fire. “Oh, Bella, I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted.” He swung the rope back and forth, finally catching the pendant in the palm of his hand. “Thank you, honey. Come here.” He held out his arms, giving her a gentle hug and kissing the top of her head. “Now, your turn.”

Robert fetched a large package from behind the tree, and Bella ripped through the paper like a child possessed. Michelle gasped as she plucked her doll from the box. It was the one he’d purchased for her on their last trip to Montreux. How he’d kept it a secret, Michelle would never know. The thought that he’d patiently kept it hidden until Christmas made her fall that much more in love with him. She glanced back to Bella, noting her downtrodden expression. “What’s wrong, baby? Don’t you like your new doll?” Nodding, Annabelle picked up the tiny figure, holding it close to her chest. “Why do you seem so sad?”

“Jason got a baby sister for Christmas.”

Michelle exchanged a look with Robert. “Well, that’s kind of true. He does have a new baby sister, although I’m not quite sure it was a Christmas present.”

“But that’s what he said,” Bella replied, her brow wrinkling. “If he got a baby sister, why can’t I have a baby brother?”

Michelle stole another peek at Robert. Highly suspect. “It doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“Then how do babies get here? If they don’t come for Christmas?”

“Well, honey, your, um … dad will explain it to you as he puts you to bed.” Robert cut his eyes at her, and she shrugged. “After all, I’ve got to straighten up down here.”

Robert closed the bedroom door behind him, kicking off his boots. “Well, that was fun. Thanks for the desertion.” He tugged his sweater over his head, tossing it onto the floor as he made his way to the bed.

“How’d it go? Did you tell her all about the birds and the bees?”

“Not exactly. She did get a pretty good run down on delivery by stork, though.” He drew back the covers, his dimple deepening. “Ooh, I see you found the present.”

Michelle ran her hand along the silky camisole of the nightgown. “How could I miss it? It wasn’t even wrapped.”

“It’s really my present, anyway.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He eased next to her, toying with the wide, crimson package at her side. “You, uh, said you had something else for me?”

She snapped up the box. “Maybe you don’t deserve it. Maybe you’re on the naughty list.”

“That’s okay with me.” He busied himself with the buttons of her cami, beaming as she slapped him away.

“Good God, you’re insatiable. Here.”

Robert plucked the gift from her hand, peeling back the paper. He began his retort, stilling as he lifted the top. His gaze traveled over the thick, silver links of the necklace that lay inside. They were sort of rectangular with dark turquoise inlay, and very familiar. He picked up the chain, surprised by how heavy it felt in his hand. You know this. But from where?

“Are you okay?” Michelle asked, jarred by his silence. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I mean, yes, I like it. It’s fantastic. I just think I’ve seen it before.”

“Well, that’s a traditional inlay, probably Hopi. You have other jewelry like it.”

“I don’t know.” Robert tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Where did it come from?”

“Well, believe it or not, that crazy little shop in Dallas. Do you remember the place?”

“Christ, that’s it. I saw it there when I was with … when did you get it?”

“A few years ago. That summer in 73.”

“And you kept it this whole time,” he replied quietly, the memories flooding back to him.

“It felt like you, like a piece of you.” Michelle glanced away, awash in memories of her own. “I’d always hoped I could give it to you.”

“I love it.” Robert studied her features, illuminated by the blush glow from the lamp on the bedside table. “And I love you.” He cupped her chin, giving her a gentle kiss. “You and Bella, my most precious treasures.”

“Did you put her up to all that baby brother stuff?”

Robert shook his head, placing the necklace back in the box and setting it on the table. “Surprisingly, I did not.” He skimmed her thigh with his palm. “But I would have had I thought about it.” He continued across the peak of her hip, tentatively resting on the soft swell of her tummy. “She was right there, yeah?”

“She was,” Michelle replied, her mouth curving. His splayed hand was warm across her belly.

“It’s incredible,” he whispered, marveling at the mystery of it all. “Did it hurt? When you had her?”

“Yes. Babies are big, well, compared to … some things.” She smiled at the attempt at humor, but he didn’t smile back.

“I’m sorry, Belle. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, that you had to do it all alone.” Robert swallowed, looking into her eyes. “But I’m going to be there for the next one. Every step of the way.” She shifted, her eyes widening as he nodded. “Yes. The next one. The one I’m going to give to you this very night.” She opened her mouth to respond, and he shook his head. “No, please, let me finish. I want to watch your body change, feel a little kick for the first time, all of it. It’s amazing, and I want to experience it with you.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

“Say that we’re going to do it. For Bella’s sake, if nothing else.”

“For Bella’s sake, right.” Michelle quelled her amusement. “Robert, I don’t think you …”

“Listen, I make the rules in this house. Well, when you’re not making them, I mean,” he added hastily, sheepishly nibbling his lip. “Baby, I love you. And I can’t stop making love to you. And it seems to happen when we do …” he trailed off, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “So, there it is, darlin’. It shall be done. Tonight. A Christmas conception,” he chimed with what he hoped was his most seductive smirk. “Hey, that’s got a pretty good ring to it, doesn’t it? Christ, just saying it is giving me a bloody …”

“Everything does. My God, you talk too much.” She yanked his head down, grabbing a fistfull of hair as their mouths collided. She could feel his arousal through his jeans, and he grunted as she gave him a not so subtle squeeze. She reached for the buckle of his belt, but he was already there, rolling onto his side to dispense with unnecessary garments, which were all of them. As the pants tumbled onto the floor, she straddled him. “Did you lock the door?”

“Shit, I can’t remember.”

She pressed against him, delighting in the hard length underneath her and large hands encasing her hips and backside. “Fuck it.”

In a motion, Robert sat up, effortlessly flipping her over. “I want you like this. There are some things I’ve got to take care of.” His gaze roamed over her body, lingering on her breasts. “I need you very, very wet for what I have in mind.” Her nipples were deliciously erect, like they always seemed to be, and he captured one in his mouth through the thin, silk bodice, luxuriating in her little mewl. He nipped it, grinning as she jerked away.

“Ouch, that hurts! I’m sensitive!”

“You are, huh?” He slid the gown off and ran his tongue across the bud, flicking it lightly. “Would that be everywhere?” he asked devilishly as he inched down her tummy, savoring the soft flesh along the way. As he reached the top of her panties, he clasped the ties on either side, dispensing with the bows with a flourish. He parted her legs, transfixed. “Happy Christmas to me,” he purred, grazing his lips along the inside of her thigh. “Every time I come tonight … and I intend to do it a lot, honey …” He moved a little closer to her hot, wet center, delivering a kiss and then another, edging closer still. “It’s going to be deep, deep inside of you.” She gasped as he reached his destination, and he gave her a wicked smile. “Just to be sure, you know.”

Michelle trembled as he gently opened her, spreading wider as she felt the warmth of his tongue lashing her most delicate spot. She groaned as he did it again and again, her hand creeping into his hair. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop. Just like that.” She shimmied her hips to urge him on, crying out as he slipped a finger inside. She lifted her head, enthralled by the sight of him in between her legs, only to drop it as he slipped in a second.

There was a hum in the back of his throat as he found the other spot she loved so much. He kept a slow, steady rhythm against it as he licked and sucked, relishing the moaning, writhing mess he’d turned her into. “You taste so bloody good, darlin’. Let me feel you come.”

“Oh, my God, Robert, I …” Her legs shook as the tension escalated into a delirious spiral. She gripped the sheet as it wound tighter and tighter and tighter until she shattered, the rush of the release taking her breath away. She buckled into the bedding, her pulse racing. “Jesus Christ, how do you do that?”

“I think the better question is, how could I not?” Robert nuzzled the slick, tender skin. “You are … mmm, like a delicacy. Sometimes I wish I could share you.”

“No, you fucking don’t.”

“You’re right.” He crawled up the length of her body, framing her face with his forearms. “You’re all mine. To do with what I wish. And, tonight, I think you know exactly what that is.” He paused, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “I can’t explain the feeling I have, Michelle. It makes me crazy. It’s like …” He sighed, searching for the right words. “It’s like I have this need to do it, this urge that I can’t control. I never felt it before I met you, and I’ve never felt it with anybody else. Just you.”

His lips met hers, their tongues lazily entwining. Michelle could taste herself on him, the slightly sweet and salty mix of both of them. The kiss was languid and loving, but she knew what he needed, what they both did. She wrapped her legs around his waist, guiding him as he entered her, the heady pressure giving her chills. She moaned as he glided deeper, taking his time, carefully filling her until she felt complete. They felt complete.

Robert broke the kiss, peering into her eyes and blinking back the moisture in his own. The thought of sparking something at the center of her very core was just … like nothing before. They’d made love hundreds of times, maybe more, but never like this. He’d always assumed he understood the primal nature of it, but, at that moment, he realized he’d never come close. It didn’t feel right. It was right. He kept his eyes on hers as he began to move, her beautiful, wet heat enveloping him. Fuck, everything about her was beautiful. Her face, her hair, the scent of her skin. She was perfect. They were perfect. He picked up his pace, breathing a little heavier, and her mouth dropped open as she closed her eyes. “No, don’t close your eyes. I want to see them when you come.” He pursed his lips, exhaling as he felt the tremor. “There it is. Christ, I love you so much.”

Michelle clutched at him, desperate for more as he started to move faster. She was so close. Again. God, the things he did to her, the things they did to each other. He grasped her wrists, pulling her arms above her head, thrusting hard, taking everything she had. Her breath caught, and she bit her lip as he tossed his head back, pushing gently against her wall. He swayed his hips back and forth, keeping sweet pressure inside and against the swollen, aching bud between her legs. Over and over … around and around. Their eyes stayed locked, neither looking away, not even for an instant. Then she felt it, something different, something deep. “Oh, Robert, I, this is, I don’t …” The words disappeared as he kissed her, tangling his fingers in her hair. Her whole body tingled, her muscles tensing. Fuck, she was right on the cusp, of what, she wasn’t sure, but she wanted it, that much she knew. She began to shudder, emitting something between a moan and a sob as she finally gave in to the mountain of current. She held him as tightly as she could, tears flooding her eyes as the blessed release ripped through her.

He’d never seen anything like it or felt anything like it, either. Her body was hot, hotter than it had ever been, and she was clenching him wildly. He kept her close, pressing right against her wall, exactly where he needed to be. With a groan, he let go, filling her again and again, as lost in her eyes as she was in his. He laid his forehead on hers, mesmerized by the power of their connection and the flame that they’d surely ignited. He didn’t know how long they stayed that way. Time ceased to matter.

Michelle brought her hands to the sides of his face, her brow lifting as she smiled. “What was that?”

“I’ve no fucking idea, but, Christ, I adore you.” Robert collapsed onto his back, drawing her into his chest. “I’ve never come like that before in my life. Bloody hell, if that didn’t do the trick then I don’t know what will.”

She ran her fingers through his damp curls, her smile broadening. “I’m not so sure.”

“You want to have another go at it, then? Not that I don’t already intend to.”

“It wouldn’t matter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Robert snipped, frowning. “How would you bloody know, anyway?”

“A couple of reasons.” Michelle placed a kiss on the dimple of his chin. “One, women know these things.”

He rolled his eyes. “Bollocks.”

“And two, you already have. Done the trick, that is.”

Robert blinked as the understanding washed over him, for a moment, speechless. “Christ, almighty, are you saying …”

“Yes, I’m saying.”

He expelled a sharp breath. “Oh, baby, I don’t, I can’t …” His hand flew to her tummy. “What if we did something to hurt it?”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that.”

“Bloody hell, woman, when were you going to tell me?”

“I tried to earlier, but, ah, you make the rules in the house, remember?” She chuckled at the wide, silly grin on his face. “Are you happy?”

“I’m not happy, Belle, I’m better than that. Fuck, I don’t know what I am,” he whispered, snickering. “Fucking giddy.”

“Me, too.”

Their eyes met, and Robert cupped her face. “I love you, Michelle. And Bella. And whoever else comes along.” He traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “And I will for the rest of my life.” He folded his arms around her as he lay his head back on the pillow, lost in the rush of a love he never knew existed.

#Robert Plant fanfic #Led Zeppelin fanfic #Robert Plant fan fiction #Led Zeppelin fan fiction #Robert Plant fanfiction #Led Zeppelin fanfiction #this may be the culmination of mich and rob #i don't know #if it is it's a nice place to stop #thanks for reading

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forksofwisdom · 7 years

Text

Embers of the Sun - chapter 4

Story Summary: Bella Swan, the new student at Forks High, is ready to graduate. She was prepared for a boring year and just wanted to make a couple of friends. Why are there mutant Wolverines running around the woods of La Push? And why do all the handsome men she meets look at her with such unbridled horror? An imprinting AU where Bella moves to Forks two years later than in canon.

Pairings: Bella/Paul, eventual Angela/Leah

You can also read the story on ff.net!

(chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3)

Not beta read!

Chapter summary: First day of school, Angela turns out to be a gift from the gods and the Cullen siblings… not so much.

Chapter 4 - Meet the Cullens

The first discovery Bella made on Friday morning while walking from her front door to her truck was that the coat she’d brought from Arizona was not waterproof. It was pouring buckets, and she shivered as the raindrops pierced through the fabric of her coat and drenched the hoodie she was wearing underneath. Her second discovery was that dressing up for school had been a horrible decision; she’d worn her converse shoes that day and had landed in a puddle the moment she’d stepped out of her truck in the school parking lot.

With a growl, Bella slammed shut her door and jumped onto dry land. She fumbled with her keys as she tried to shake the water from her shoes and felt like crying when she dropped them into the puddle. People were starting to stare, so Bella pulled up her hood to hide her misery and fished her keys up. She was tempted to pull the ties of her hoodie to cover her face entirely as she approached the front office to get her schedule. The school was a collection of matching square buildings. They were all the made from the same maroon-colored bricks and surrounded by trees and shrubs. Bella’s mood did not lift; the heavy rain clouds made everything seem so dreary and cold. Her foul expression was enough to keep anyone from approaching her, but she made an effort to clear her face before greeting the receptionist.

The office has a small waiting room, equipped with folding chairs and a bulletin board, which displayed the words: Respect, Integrity, and Commitment. Underneath that was the school motto, ‘WE ARE ALL SPARTANS’, written in bright yellow letters.

“Isabella Swan, welcome,” said the squat woman sitting behind the desk before Bella had time to introduce herself. “Your father informed me you were coming.” Shelly Cope, her nameplate sat on the corner of her desk, had red hair and wore glasses that made her eyes seem small. Her impartial smile informed Bella that there wouldn’t be any small talk.

Good, Bella thought.

“Yes, I’m here for my schedule,” Bella said. The secretary pushed away from the table and rolled her chair over to the printer and pulled out some paper that she stapled together before showing it to Bella.

“Here you are. I’ve put a map in there as well.” She flipped it from underneath Bella’s schedule to show her the school’s layout. ”Your first class is 12th grade English, and it’s held in Building 3, room six. Mr. Berty, your teacher, will provide you with all the material you need for his class.” The dismissal was evident in her voice, and Bella thanked her before heading out into the rain again.

She shielded her papers from the worst of it and was grateful that Building 3 was the closest to the secretary office.

“Bella!”

Bella looked up at the sound of her name and saw it was Angela. They’d been about to enter the same building, and Bella nearly jogged into her when she paused to open the door. Angela held the door for her and their shoes squeaked against the linoleum floor, leaving wet footprints as they sought refuge from the rain.

“Hi, Angela,” Bella breathed.

“I didn’t think I would see you so soon,” Angela said pleasantly. She pulled down the hood of her raincoat and unzipped it to shake her hair out. Her glasses were starting to fog up from the rise in temperature. “What class do you have?”

“English,” Bella answered.

“With Mr. Berty? Me too.” Angela was familiar with the hallways, and Bella let her guide them to classroom six. There were a handful of students loitering outside the classroom, sluggish and heavy-lidded as they waited for the bell to ring. Angela waved to them, and the jerked their heads and mumbled an unenthusiastic greeting. Bella would fit in nicely here. She was already exhausted after having spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed from first-day-of-school jitters.

“What kind of teacher is he?” Bella asked her and sent the gathered students a stiff smile. Like Ms. Cope, they didn’t seem surprised to see her and shot her furtive sidelong glances.

The bell rang, signaling the start of class.

“I guess you’ll see for yourself,” Angela said apologetically as a tall man with graying hair opened the door from the inside. He must be Mr. Berty. He waved them inside with little fanfare, and Bella saw that he was wearing a tweed suit jacket with elbow patches and plaid pants. He looked like he could either be the type who believed that his own brilliance was wasted as a high school teacher or was simply eccentric. Bella hoped it was the latter.

They filed into a standard looking classroom. It was smaller than Bella was used to. Posters made by previous students covered the white walls, and the wooden tables were organized into three neat rows. They only allowed two students to sit side by side. Mr. Berty returned to his desk and Bella approached him while the students took their seats.

“Who might you be?” Mr. Berty asked, peering at her over his reading glasses.

“I’m the new student, Isabella Swan,” Bella said, and he nodded.

“Ah, yes. Here is the lesson plan for this term,” Mr. Berty said, and Bella was relieved that he wasn’t about to make her stand in front of the class and introduce herself like they were still in grade school. Instead, he did something much worse. “You might as well hand them out to the rest of the class. Take a seat once you’ve finished so we can get started.”

Bella took the stack of paper silently and made quick work of handing them out while Mr. Berty did the roll call. She avoided making eye contact with anyone, but her school bag hung off her elbow awkwardly, and it bumped against the tables every other step she took. She approached Angela last. She’d saved her a seat and Bella slid the sheet of paper over to her with a grateful smile.

“Now that we’re all here, there will be no mercy today even though it’s our first day. This is a double period class, and I see no point in wasting it by giving you a few more minutes of recess.” Mr. Berty clapped his hands together, making the half-asleep student jerk in their seats. He appeared to regain vigor from the sound of their groans. They’d all been hoping that he’d let them off easy today. “We’ll be focusing on Shakespeare’s work for the majority of the year but rest assured there will be plenty of opportunity for essay writing and presentations.” Mr. Berty smiled when his students slumped lower into their seats, their misery apparent.

The rest of his lecture continued in that fashion, and Bella wondered why teachers felt the need to tell their students everything that was written in the lesson plan. It must be a rite of passage to waste everyone’s time during the first day back. They were nearing the end of their first period when Mr. Bert finally stopped talking. He split them into pairs to 'work on their communication skills' as he put it.

Bella thanked the universe for already being acquainted with Angela because they shared a furtive grin and tackled the task at hand without needing any awkward introductions. They were supposed to compare their favorite work of fiction and discuss the differences and merits of each book. It turned out they both shared a love for Jane Austen so filling out the worksheet was a breeze. Angela chose Sense and Sensibility while Pride and Prejudice continued to be Bella’s favorite. They were in the midst of discussing the differences between Elinor Dashwood level-headedness and Elizabeth Bennet’s playful impertinence and drawing the similarities of their passionate nature when the bell rang.

“I’ve never met anyone who’s into Austen as much as I am,” Angela told Bella after they’d handed their worksheet to Mr. Berty.

“Me neither,” Bella said. It was true, Bella had spent hours reading and re-reading the novels in her youth but had been crushed to realize that none of her old classmates shared her interest in the classics. “Now, you have to be honest with me because this question will be a deciding factor for me to keep you as my friend or not.” Bella’s tone was mockingly grim, and Angela caught on quickly and assumed a serious face. “Fuck, marry, kill; Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Collin?”

Angela burst out laughing, blushing lightly at Bella’s crude language. “Oh, one is easy; kill Mr. Collins, but I always had a little bit of a crush on the Colonel after having seen the BBC adaptation from 1995,” she mused, making Bella gasp with delight.

“You’ve seen it?” Bella asked with uncontainable delight. She’d watched the series so many times that Renée refused to watch it with her anymore. She forgot her nervousness. “I don’t care who you fuck or marry; you are officially my best friend!”

Angela seemed just as eager as Bella. “I’ve got the special edition with restored colors and commentary,” she admitted in a shy voice, and Bella looped their arms together, letting Angela lead their way to their next class, which was American History.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Bella joked, and Angela nodded in agreement.

Their history lesson passed quickly; their teacher was as eager for the break as the students and promptly dismissed them after giving them the rundown of the course. Bella and Angela continued their conversation, and soon they’d made plans to meet up sometime and watch Angela’s entire Jane Austen film and tv-series adaptations together. Making friends wasn't so hard as Bella had initially thought. She was so relieved to have found a kindred spirit in Angela that she forgot to be worried about lunch.

They were sitting at one of the tables located in almost every corner of the hallways around the school and Bella was getting to know Angela a little better. Angela had lived in Forks her entire life; her father was the Lutheran minister, and her mother worked as an accountant for a small local business. She also had twin brothers, Joshua and Isaac, who could be very rambunctious and trying at times but Bella could hear the affection in her voice as she recounted all of their mischiefs. Angela was just getting into the swing of things, telling Bella about the time her brothers had put a lobster in the cradle as Baby Jesus before the start of the annual Christmas play when they were interrupted.

“Yo, Angie!” A blond haired boy called with unnecessary loudness. He strutted down the hallway towards them with two other guys. He perked up at the sight of Bella and

“Hi, I’m Mike,” he said and held out his hand for her to shake. He was smiling at her with a little too much interest and Bella heaved an internal sigh.

“Guys this is Bella.” Angela, bless her heart, took it upon herself to make the introductions. “Bella this is Austin-” she gestured to the acne-ridden sandy-haired boy who raised his hand in greeting. “- and this is Ben.” The short, black haired boy shot Bella an awkward smile as he sat down next to Angela and entwined their fingers together. Bella blinked. Angela hadn’t mentioned having a boyfriend.

“So, Bella-” Mike started to drawl.

“Where’s Jessica?” Angela asked Mike pointedly, cutting him off. He shrunk back and rubbed the back of his neck guiltily.

“She went with Lauren to save us a good table in the Mess,” Mike said. “She told us to go and find you. Your schedule is messed up; we hardly have any classes together. Ben here was starting to pine for you by the third period.”

Angela laughed awkwardly, tightening her grip on Ben and patted the back of his hand with her free hand. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have met Bella otherwise. Besides, we have photography together next class,” she reassured Ben and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. He blushed.

“C’mon, I’m starving,” Austin groaned, and they got up. Angela disentangled herself from Ben and fell into step with Bella. He didn’t seem to mind and took to discussing the new chapter of some superhero novel with Austin. Bella couldn’t help but notice that Angela was an entire head taller than her boyfriend, who was about as tall as herself.

The mess hall was starting to fill with hungry students, and they took their place in the forming queue to get their meal. The other students had food stamps, and Angela loaned Bella one of hers when she realized that she hadn’t brought any money.

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” Bella promised after thanking her. Angela shook her head and reassured her that it wasn’t necessary. Bella didn’t dare take the time to examine what the school had to offer with a line behind her and picked the same stuff as Angela. They headed for a table that was occupied by two pretty girls and two guys who were both wearing varsity jackets.

“Hey, Lauren, Jessica; this is Bella. She’s new here,” Angela introduced Bella when they took their seats.

“We know,” the girl with white blonde hair, Lauren, said. She seemed to dismiss Bella after giving her a once over with sharp green eyes and leaned into the dark-skinned boy sitting beside her. He tried to tangle his fingers in her hair, but she jerked her head away with a warning glare. He rolled his eyes and introduced himself as Tyler Crowley.

“Hi!” a brunette with voluminous curls waved cheerfully to Bella when she took a seat across from her. Mike had his arm around her shoulders. She must be Jessica. “Don’t mind, Lauren. She’s not good with new people.”

“Shut up, Jess,” Lauren scoffed, but there wasn’t any heat behind her words. Angela, who was sitting next to Bella, raised her eyebrows in a ‘what-can-you-do’ way and Bella stifled her smile.

“Hey, Conner,” Mike shared a fist bump with the other guy.

“Yo, dude. Did you catch the game last night?” Conner asked, licking his spoon free of yogurt.

“The Seahawks got slaughtered, man,” Tyler laughed, and Mike buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“Don’t remind me.” Mike shook his head, and they launched into a heated argument over which team player was to blame for their defeat. Jessica rolled her eyes and leaned forward to tell Angela about what kind of morning she’d had. Apparently, she’d found a dead squirrel on her front porch.

“- I literally died,” Jessica said dramatically, and Lauren grimaced with disgust.

“What did you do with it?”

“Dad got a stick and took it into the woods. It was super gross; it didn't have any eyes!” Jessica said with too much relish for a girl who was supposedly traumatized by the event.

Bella nibbled on the side of her cafeteria bland pizza slice and realized that she was sitting with the popular cheerleaders and jocks. It was an absurd thought because she’d spent years making fun of their type. She couldn’t help but think that Jessica and Lauren were both shallow, but then again; she hadn’t known them for more than twenty minutes.

It was a weird moment for her.

“So, we’re graduating soon. Have any, like, plans?” Lauren asked the entire table. She was obviously the leader here because the other conversations came to a stop to join hers. Lauren didn’t seem too interested in knowing their goals because she immediately launched into her own plans once she had their attention. “I’m going to Canada.”

“Lauren was scouted by a model agency in Victoria this summer,” Angela explained in a hushed voice when she noticed Bella’s confusion. Lauren seemed genuinely excited by the prospect, and she even let Tyler touch her hair when he pressed a kiss to her lips. Bella looked away at their display of affection.

“You’re going places, babe.”

“I’m going to attend uni in Seattle,” Ben said and the rest of the table seemed to have similar plans.

“I’m thinking about getting a degree in communications and maybe entertainment. I really want to have my own talk show one day,” Jessica piped up with a dreamy smile.

“Then you can interview me once I’m famous,” Lauren laughed, and Jessica joined her with a strained smile. Bella sensed a bit of jealousy coming from Jessica and wondered if it was because Laura was the more popular one.

“Totally!”

“What about you, Bella?” Mike asked her and Bella was suddenly the focal point of the entire table.

“Um, I’m going to university and maybe become a teacher.” She shrugged, flushing a little underneath their attention.

“Me too,” Angela said. “I want to be a kindergarten teacher.”

“What do you think the Cullens are going to do?” Jessica asked, and Bella was left behind at the leap in the conversation. She had no idea who the Cullens were, but it seemed like a favorite subject of Jessica’s because there was a gleam in her eyes while the others rolled their eyes. The atmosphere soured even further when Lauren spoke.

“Who cares? They don’t need jobs because they’re all rich and beautiful,” she sneered.

“Speak of the devil,” Mike muttered, and Bella looked up.

A lanky young man and what appeared to be a child at first glance had just entered the mess hall. A closer look told Bella that the girl wasn’t a child but around her age and was just unfortunately short and thin to the extremes. Despite this they looked like a pair of runway models who’d gotten lost on their way to the catwalk and somehow ended up in Forks, Washington instead. Bella couldn’t believe they were still in high school with features like that. Maybe it was the way they dressed, but they appeared years older than the rest of the student population. They walked with the kind of confidence rarely seen in a teenager, and there wasn’t a blemish in sight. They were both deathly pale, and the girl reminded Bella of a pixie; she appeared to float across the room with the graceful steps of a skilled dancer.

Bella felt a twinge of envy at her coordination. Some people just had it all.

Her companion was just as fetching. He was devastatingly handsome with windswept hair that was the most unusual shade of copper. Heads turned as they walked past but they didn’t seem to care, getting a tray of food and taking a seat in the corner. They slouched elegantly in their chairs and stared in separate directions in stony silence.

Were these the Cullens? Bella was almost afraid to ask at this point.

Sound returned to the room, and slowly the students returned to their conversations, shooting the Cullens glances as they put their heads together to whisper and giggle about something; most likely how hot they were.

Jessica sighed before she caught herself and shot Mike a guilty glance. He'd been checking out the pixie Cullen, and Jessica elbowed him in the gut. Mike winced.

“Are they related?” Bella wondered. They didn’t look remotely similar beyond their pale skin and good looks.

“Oh, no,” Jessica answered, eager to dish out their dirty secrets. “Dr. Cullen adopted them, that’s Alice and Edward Cullen, but they have three other siblings who graduated last year. Emmett Cullen, and the Hale twins; Rosalie and Jasper.” Jessica leaned in like she was about to share something scandalous, sending the Cullens an eager look. “They’re all like, together together.”

“Wait, like romantically?” Bella asked.

“It’s really weird,” Jessica nodded and was put out when she saw that Bella didn’t share her disgust.

“Well, you said that they’re not related,” Bella said slowly. Call her a romantic, but she believed that love could be found in the most unexpected places.

“It’s weird,” Jessica asserted before resuming her gossiping. “Alice and Jasper are together, and so are Emmett and Rosalie but Edward is like the only one who’s single,” she said and looked at Edward with a hungry expression. “He’s never shown anyone interest though because apparently, no one is good enough for him.” She blushed and drew back to fold her arms against her chest. Mike glared at Edward Cullen and pulled Jessica to him, which seemed to cheer her up. “Whatever, it’s not like I care.” Her sour expression gave away that she wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended. Bella didn’t know what to say to this.

She glanced at the Cullens again and met the golden eyes of Alice. Her large doe eyes were alight with some indiscernible emotion, and she whispered something to her brother, not taking her eyes off of Bella. Bella looked down at her plate quickly, embarrassed at having been caught but a quick glance told her that Edward was watching her as well. He didn’t seem to share his sister’s excitement and glared at Bella. Humiliated, she felt like a sideshow freak when they kept staring at her.

“Bella, what class do you have next?” Angela offered Bella an out from the awkward silence.

“I have Spanish,” she said after consulting her schedule. It had been an obvious choice because Bella had taken it in Phoenix, as it is the second most common language spoken in California and Arizona. “What about you?” Bella asked, and Angela reminded her that she had photography with Ben after lunch.

“I’m taking French,” Lauren piped up. She buffed her nails against her blouse without looking up. Jessica appeared to have gotten over her herself and her good mood was restored.

“So am I!” she said brightly. “Mike, you have trig right?”

“Don’t remind me,” he moaned and looked over at Connor and Tyler. “Do you guys remember anything from last year?”

“Nope.” They didn’t appear to be bothered by the fact and started to pile their trash onto their trays when the bell rang to signal the end of lunch.

Bella’s map came in handy when she was forced to split up with Angela, who’d been her guide up to this moment. She arrived at the correct classroom in the nick of time. Mrs. Geoff, the Spanish teacher, greeted her enthusiastically and made her stand in front of the class and introduce herself in Spanish. Bella wanted to sink into the floor, but her grasp on Spanish was good enough, and she was able to rattle off some inane facts about herself.

“¡Te felicito! Tu trabajo está muy bien hecho,” the teacher exclaimed and received blank-eyed stares from her students.

“Gracias, señora,” Bella said and quickly went to the only seat available. She nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw Alice Cullen sitting in the chair next to hers. Bella sat down and gave Alice an awkward smile, which she returned trifold, nearly blinding Bella with the beauty of it. Her teeth were straight and a pearly white. Bella had the urge to go and brush her teeth, feeling self-conscious.

“So your name is Bella?” Alice asked, her voice sounding like wind chimes. Bella got lost in her eyes for a moment. Bella had never seen such an unusual eye color; they were a stunning liquid gold. She shook herself out of her daze when she realized Alice was waiting for an answer.

“Sí,” Bella replied jokingly.

“How wonderful.” Alice’s smile widened impossibly. She seemed oddly thrilled about learning Bella’s name because she laughed with delight at the simple introduction. Even her laugh was beautiful.

Mrs. Geoff spoke in Spanish throughout the class, but Bella had a hard time focusing. Alice was the most beautiful creature she’d ever met, with her pale skin and red. She reminded Bella of a miniature Snow White.

Alice didn’t pay attention to Mrs. Geoff either because she kept asking Bella questions in a low whisper. Bella was a little flattered by it. The rest of the students seemed stunned to see Alice voluntarily talking to another human being outside her own family. Mrs. Geoff didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.

“What color were you thinking about?” Alice’s question brought Bella back. They’d somehow gotten onto the topic of interior design. Bella had learned that Alice was a fashion enthusiast with a thing for decorations, and had let slip that she was thinking about painting the wall in her room to add a little warmth to it.

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Bella admitted.

“Well, I recommend you go to Benjamin Moore in Port Angeles and look at their swatches. Here, let me give you my number in case you need help picking out the right color,” Alice said as the bell rang. She ripped some paper from her notebook and scribbled her mobile number on it and gave it to Bella.

“I don’t have a phone,” Bella said dumbly.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” Alice dismissed. “There are plenty of places that sell them.”

“Thanks.” Bella blinked, feeling like she’d been caught in a whirlwind.

“No, problem,” Alice smiled and waved as she headed in the other direction. “I’ll see you around, Bella!”

“See ya,” Bella said weakly. She got caught in the flow of students and walked with them in a slight daze.

Alice was a little overwhelming. It was apparent that she was the type who knew what she wanted and had no issues with getting it. It was an admirable trait, but Bella was a little shell-shocked after taking the brunt of her attention. Yes, Alice was persistent for someone her size but otherwise harmless. Mostly.

Bella soon learned that the same could not be said about her brother.

Biology class started out fine. Mr. Banner, the teacher, handed Bella her book and bade her take a seat without making her introduce herself using the theme of the subject as Mrs. Geoff had done. It would have made an interesting introduction: “Hi, my name is Isabella Swan, but call me Bella. I started out as a zygote inside my mother’s womb and developed into a human through the wonderful process of mitosis and meiosis. I’m also a Virgo.”

The only seat available was next to one Edward Cullen.

Everything rolled downhill after that.

Bella couldn’t help but stare at him when she walked between the aisles. Edward’s chiseled features belonged in renaissance paintings or on statues of Greek deities, crafted by master sculptors, not in this backwoods high school. Bella had never seen anyone as handsome as him. It was disquieting, and it provoked something indescribable inside her.

He looked like an angel.

When she drew near, his nostrils suddenly flared, and his head jerked up. Edward glared at her with monstrous black eyes, his pupil indiscernible from their darkness, and his face contorted like he’d smelled something foul. He went so far as to lean away from Bella as far as his seat allowed him when she sat down next to him.

Her heart gave a painful squeeze of mortification, and she quickly looked down at the tabletop, her hair falling forward to hide her face. She tried to subtly sniff her shirt to see if she stunk and was a little insulted when she smelled nothing out of the ordinary. Sure, Bella didn’t smell like her usual strawberry shampoo, having forgotten to pick it up at the store, but she wasn’t smelly, and her natural musk was too faint for Edward to smell from this distance. Maybe he was sick; he certainly looked like he was in agony.

She drew a breath and was about to ask him if he needed the nurse when a tantalizing sweet scent wafted towards her, similar to the one his sister bore. Her mind felt fuzzy, and Bella was drawn towards it like a bee to honey, but the look in Edward’s soulless eyes spelled death. It was a spine-chilling experience.

Bella looked away quickly. She took it back; Edward wasn’t a beautiful angel, not at that moment. He was an archangel, cast out of heaven and turned demonic. He didn’t look human.

Maybe he just has bad gas, she thought to herself, feeling the beginnings of hysteria creeping on her. Twenty minutes dragged past, and Bella kept one eye on the clock and the beast beside her. She hadn’t heard a word of what Mr. Banner was saying, distracted by the murderous intent emanating from Edward. He hadn’t moved, frozen in his odd hunched position. Bella doubted that he was even breathing; his chest wasn’t moving, and his hand was covering his mouth and nose. He certainly wasn’t blinking.

Fear. That was the feeling Edward provoked inside her; a deep primitive fear that urged Bella to either leap out of the window to get away from him or to pick up her pencil and stab it into those unnatural black eyes of his. Bella was not a violent person by nature so the sudden desire to attack a classmate, no matter how creepy, took her by surprise.

What was happening to her? Bella didn’t know, but she knew it had something to do with Edward. She refused to take this anymore; Edward Cullen had no right to affect her like this. Bella stood up and walked to Mr. Banner’s desk for her escape. He looked up at her, and she didn’t have to fake her nervous smile.

“Excuse me, sir. Can I go to the bathroom?” she asked in a low voice.

“Certainly,” Mr. Banner said and handed her a hall pass.

“Thank you,” Bella said and hurried out of the room. One last look at Edward almost sent her running. He was no longer straining back but leaning forwards like a predator readying itself to leap onto its prey. He looked like he wanted to eat her.

Bella settled for a brisk pace down the corridor instead of hightailing out of the school like she wanted to. She was halfway down the hallway when Alice Cullen, of all people, rounded the corner. She was speaking anxiously into her phone, and Bella caught a bit of her end of the conversation when they walked past each other. “-can’t see him, Carlisle. Hi, Bella!” Alice wiggled her fingers at her but didn’t slow down, which suited Bella just fine. She’d had enough of the Cullens today. “No. I’m getting him now.”

Him? Did she mean Edward? If so, Bella hoped she was taking him to the hospital for a rabies shot. He was clearly feral.

She made it to the bathroom without any hindrance and locked herself in one of the stalls. It offered her a bare minimum of protection, but at least no one could see her. If you can’t see it, it’s not there - it being a black-eyed monster in this case. The irrational thought was exactly what Bella needed to calm down. She stared blankly at the scribbles on the stall door as she wrangled her thundering heart under control. Someone had written in looping cursive about, oddly enough, the militia movements of the Confederate Army in the Civil War. It was signed J. W. at the bottom, and Bella sent a silent thank-you to them for the distraction.

Five minutes passed faster than she liked and Bella was forced to return to the Biology classroom. She felt like she was heading towards the gallows.

Edward was nowhere in sight, and Bella was faint with relief. She returned her hall pass with shaking hands and returned to her seat. Feeling brave, she vindictively took the chair Edward had occupied. It was silly, but it gave Bella a small measure of comfort; how evil could he be if his presence hadn't left behind a tainted mark.

Bella’s thought hadn’t even finished when she noticed hairline fractures in the wood extending from the place where Edward had gripped the desk. Had he broken the counter? It seemed a bit excessive, but Edward must really not like her. She ran her fingers on the underside of the wood and found finger size groves embedded there.

Her breath came fast and shallow, and Bella was on the verge of hyperventilating when she caught a flash of copper in her peripheral vision. Her mind had evidently associated the color with Edward, and rightly so, because her head snapped to the side, afraid that he was coming for her again. Alice was frog marching Edward across the car park. It would have been a comical sight, Edward’s lanky height dwarfed Alice’s tiny form, if Bella wasn’t freaking out. Alice led him towards the woods for some reason. Didn’t they have a car?

Then something astonishing happened; Alice pushed her brother forward with unnatural strength and his shape blurred as he took off at a sprint. With the same supernatural speed, Alice followed suit, and they were both gone before Bella had time to blink.

The only thing keeping Bella grounded was the grip she still had on the table, her fingers fitting into the indentations Edward had left behind.

It was proof that she hadn’t lost her mind.

A/N: I don’t speak Spanish and neither does anyone else in my family so don’t hesitate to correct me if what Mrs. Goff said was incorrect!

Next chapter: Momma Renée gives life advice, and dinner at Billy’s turns into an eye-opening experience, featuring Bella; the amazing grocery mountaineer.

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cesium-sheep · 4 years

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anyway unfortunately I think my pronouns might be heavily sound-based like irish grammar even though that’s gonna be really hard for english-speakers to grasp. (it’d pretty much definitely be hard for me to grasp if it wasn’t me setting the terms to start with.)

because it’s “standard” third person pronouns with the first consonant(s) dropped, with a contextual preference for “eh” sounds over “ih” or “ah” or “ee” (like “had to do it to ‘em”, but with the exception of “’e brought it upon ‘imself”) and an end consonant hierarchy of none>m>r>s. (written out, e/em/er(s)/imself.) but this morning I realized that sounds like trash if it’s a situation where you have to stress the syllable (like “according to em”). which is a problem. but in irish sometimes you just add letters to words to make them sound right in context I think? it’s very much pronunciation-based, anyway. like her is “a” and apple is “ull” but when you say “her apple” it’s “a hull”.

so adding a consonant conditionally, depending on where in the sentence the vocal emphasis is placed, would probably be good? or maybe it’s only after words ending in vowels because otherwise you just do the liaison like in french?

as for which consonant, it should definitely be voiceless, probably a fricative. (yes I am looking up linguistic charts for this.) h would probably be simplest since it’s already used similarly in some other languages, and because it is essentially returning what was dropped in some respects so that’s easier for people to remember. just something that allows you to actually vocalize emphasis on my pronouns.

but also no one is ever going to get that right lol

edit: actually if I go with h sometimes I would just end up being “he” or “her” again neither of which is what I want. maybe I should go with s instead, because it’s still a voiceless fricative but it doesn’t just put it right back as a “standard” pronoun again by mistake which would cause even more confusion and also I don’t like it.

where is e? well if se said so, it must be fine! look at em! according to sem, it’s this. er seat is over there. no, that‘s ser umbrella.

having pronouns is hard, this still isn’t quite right -n- but it’s still better than nothing imo.

#long post

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green-makakas · 7 years

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Cosplay, Fanart and Plagiarism

(gif curtesy to Mel)

TL;DR: An artist traced (!) my cosplay photo without permission, gave me zero credits, sold the prints at a con and denied she’s ever seen my photo. First, both of us, the cosplayer and the photographer, want to say that it would never have come to this if the artist would have immediately apologized to us in person, instead of being extremely rude to us and letting things escalate. A simple sorry and taking down the prints would’ve sufficed. In the beginning of January, being hyped with the new SU episodes, I immediately fell in love with Blue Diamond and cosplayed her. Two months ago, a friend let me know that an artist she saw drew a fanart based on my photo. I was extremely flattered and happy, but also kinda sad the artist gave me zero credits. Us cosplayers and photographers work really hard to get a nice result, and everyone is happy when their photo serves as an inspiration for another artwork. I wrote a letter to her stating that I love her art, but I’d like her to credit me as a source of inspiration (adding the screen shot). For two months, there was silence. I tried it again a few weeks ago, but again, no response. Okay, what can you do…

Last weekend we had a big con in Germany with a huge artist alley and both of us, the photographer and the cosplayer, attended. Suddenly, a friend came to us and said that there’s a girl selling this exact drawing. We were puzzled and decided to go to her booth and look at it ourselves.

Now, I added a gif our friend Mel made of her drawing and my photo overlapping. She didn’t really use me as a reference or an source of inspiration: she simply TRACED my photo. The changes she added to it are minimal! We went to her booth, showed her the photo and asked her to explain this: Why didn’t she ask us if it was okay? Why didn’t she answer two of my messages? And finally, why was she selling it? The artist answered that she’d never seen this photo in her life and she had no idea what we were talking about. Now, dumbfounded by the obvious lie, we asked her to cut it out and to explain herself honestly. She was very rude, didn’t even look us in the eyes and repeated numerous times that she’d never seen this photo, never seen my message and that she wants us to leave right now. We asked her how it could be then, that our photo and her picture were identical down to the folds on the fabric. She avoided answering, flatout refused to continue the discussion and told us to contact her via e-mail instead. No, we said, we are standing right in front of you, so please talk to us now, especially since we had already tried to contact her online.

Then she changed her story and admitted that she HAD seen my message after all, but was too busy preparing for this convention and thus couldn’t answer. Please note: she was contacted TWO whole months before the convention, so naturally we were having none of it. Later on, she changed her story once again and said that she didn’t understand my message bc it was in English and that’s why she hadn’t answered. This whole time, she continued to state that SHE HAD NEVER SEEN MY PHOTO IN HER LIFE. And by god, she was so rude… all in all, the whole thing was very disappointing and disheartening. Seeing as we had no chance to even have a constructive dialogue, we went to con helpers, who were so, so, so kind to us! They looked at the photo and asked us what we wanted to happen. We told them we just wanted her to stop selling this exact print here. That it wasn’t okay doing it and it wasn’t okay lying about it.

Now, the con helper responsible for the artist alley went to the artist’s booth, talked to her and asked us to talk it out in their presence. They looked at our photo and the artist’s picture and immediately took our side. Now, it was THE FIRST TIME the artist admitted that, indeed, our photo MAY have been used to for this picture, but not by her. Supposedly, it now was „a collab with a friend“ who did the drawing, while the artist in question only did the coloring, so she wouldn’t know anything about tracing our picture. Since her story has already changed a few times during our first attempt to talk to her, we were rather sceptical of this new excuse, but then again, shit happens, right? And it would explain her denying the absolutely obvious fact of tracing, wouldn’t it? Well, as we found out a few hours later on her twitter (thanks to another friend), back in January, when she posted the picture, she stated in no uncertain terms that she was the one who drew it.

Translation: „I watched the new Steven Universe episodes a few days ago and since then I’ve got „What’s The Use Of Feeling, Blue?“ stuck in my head“ „And that’s why I drew Blue Diamond today in the morning!“ Notice her claiming credit for DRAWING the picture alone (”ich habe gezeichnet” – “I drew”), without mentioning any colab friends. And needless to say, without mentioning us. Now, either she was lying to us about having a colab partner or she’s snubbing not one, but two parties of credit here. We do heavily lean towards the first option, due to the way this excuse emerged only after she had time to come up with one, but the second option doesn’t make her look much better either. But back to the story. Not having seen this tweet at that point, we relucantly bought the story of the colab partner being the one at fault here. The con helpers asked her how much was selling the print for. 12€ per print, people, and of course she’s already sold a few. We ourselves don’t even sell this photo and meanwhile someone was profiting of our hard work like this :( The story ended with the con helper taking ALL of her prints of Blue Diamond and giving them to me so she can’t sell them again (at least, not at this con). I shook the artist’s hand and told her that her drawings were beautiful, she was obviously very talented and SHE DIDN’T HAVE TO DO THIS. She could have asked and I would’ve said yes! I told her I wished her no harm and that I wished her good luck, but this was not okay and as an artist, she should understand this. I really wish the message came through, but, sadly, she showed zero remorse. She didn’t even apologize, but whatever. * Now. There are a lot of people who have used our photos as references in the past, but they usually ask beforehand and ALWAYS credit us properly. Nothing makes me happier than to inspire other people with my art. It’s a huge compliment to us as cosplayers and photographers. All the person has to do is to simply ask! It is NOT okay to TRACE a photo and to SELL the result with minimal changes… especially not witout permission. It’s just not. My artwork may be used as a reference, but it’s NOT A STOCK PHOTO and not „just“ a reference for art students or aspiring artists. Cosplay and cosplay photpgraphy are also an artform and there’s a lot of effort and money that goes into it! For this Blue Diamond shoot, we:

1) Put effort into developing the idea 2) Bought fabric and made the costume 3) Styled the wig 4) Did the make up 5) Worked on the studio set up 6) Worked on the lightning set up 7) Put thought into compostion and expression of the photo 8) Took the photo 9) Edited the photo

It is NOT A SIMPLE „CLICK“ OF THE CAMERA. We put sweat and blood into this because, same as fanartists, we are huge SU fans and we wanted to honor the amazing new episodes. In no way did I think someone would simply trace my photo and make profit of it without asking me. Of course, I do not own BD, her design or whatever. But this doesn’t mean that what I created isn’t an artwork within its own right and can be freely traced and sold without permission! The changes the artist made in her „drawing“ were minimal and nothing was changed in the concept, the composition, the idea or the artistic expression of the shot.

There’s always a shit storm in the community when someone reposts an artwork without crediting the artist or when people are reposting without credits for internet points, and rightfully so. Here it’s not just about internet recognition, it’s about actual monetary profit. So I do think it’s understandable that we’re deeply upset about this. This is not, in any way or form, some „Cosplayers vs Fanaritsts” discussion, it’s an „Artist vs Plagiarism“ problem. So please, please, PLEASE, just ask if you want to use someone’s photo, give them credit, show them your work! They’ll be so happy, flattered and proud! Don’t be like this artist… the situation here was entirely avoidable and caused unnecessary pain for everyone involved.

Regardless of the upsetting situation, we really want to thank all friends (and strangers) who showed us support! It was incredibly important and reassuring. Biggest thanks go, of course, to Mel who first notified us of the situation and helped us greatly in solving it! And so many props to convention helpers! We’re thankful beyond words!

#steven universe #cosplay #blue diamond #plagiarism

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lekshk · 4 years

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Bangalore days - Nanna Life in Namma Bengaluru

If you hear the word Bangalore, which Malayali would say no? ~ Kuttan (Nivin Pauly's character from the movie Bangalore days) That was the case for me too but life had become stressful when I moved from Mumbai to Bengaluru a year back. My parents settled in Trivandrum, I was juggling between 3 cities. Three operations and a dialysis back to back, my move was a blessing because I could reach my parents faster anytime at a cheaper cost. However, the strain associated with it was good enough to take a toll of my mental health. I was missing Mumbai and all the struggles associated with moving to a new city were clearly affecting me. Work was equally demanding and even though I had a supportive team, I was always having a sense of not being able to give enough. Soon, I started becoming toxic to everything around me. Nothing made sense and I would get irritated at the drop of a hat. Loneliness started creeping in and it just felt like the odds are not in my favor. If only someone could understand me. That's when I came across this quote. Have 3 jobs in life – one that gives you salary, one that keeps you fit and one that gets you creative. ~ Unknown source What excited me reading it, I don't know. Probably the possibility of donning multifarious hats awoke my Mumbaikar spirit. Suddenly, I could feel the buzz and the energy in my bones and I started looking forward to it. To start with - Salary, well, I already had the job. What should I do to keep fit? That's when another quote struck! When you want something badly, the whole universe conspires to make it happen. ~ Pauolo Coehlo (The Alchemist) Salsa, Bachata, Jive – as if the ballet dancer in the picture of Dance with me studio was staring at me. I used to see it everyday while commuting to office, but how come I never payed attention to it?! So, dance it is! Fitness – check it off! Next- Creativity Again, Paulo Coehlo's words started ringing in my ears. I had always wanted to learn art. Cool, that's settled then! Enroll for art classes and burst your creativity! Now, a 9 hour job and Bengaluru traffic don't go hand in hand. I had to find a way where I could have the cake and eat it too! Soon, a time table was set considering the commute time and the space for intermittent relaxation periods. Because self care, while necessary, shouldn't become exhausting by overdoing it out of excitement of newfound strength and invincibility! You can conquer the world but hey! hey! take one day at a time! I realized weekdays I was out for work anyway. So, enrolling for classes on such days would be a good idea because that would ensure I attended them no matter how much ever tiring they seem because the traffic here would discourage you to step out of the house on weekends. I decided the weekends could be a leisurely one instead. Hence, I chose the less peak hours of 12 to 9 pm shift which fortunately my project had. Twice a week, I would attend dance classes in the mornings and freshen up in the office shower rooms and login to work. Surprisingly, even though initially, it was hectic, dance brought out joy in me. I would feel rejuvenated and work was becoming pleasurable. My face started to glow, I would joke with my colleagues, call my parents regularly. There was more laughter and happiness around. The remaining 3 days I would do simple yoga in the meditation room in the office premise. I also made it a point to spend half hour in the library known as the Information Resource Center (IRC). Reading edit page in Bangalore mirror became a ritual and attending video screenings arranged by IRC became part of the work DNA. It motivated me to work better and build effective relationships at work. I enrolled for art workshops during weekends and would spend an average of 3 hours of learning. Here, there was no pressure of commitment because it would be a one time activity and one could take our art work the same day. Soon, I ended up making macrames, dot mandalas, paintings using fluid water colors, acrylics and pallete knives. A finished art work would make me feel proud and the weekday stresses melted away in the art. The remaining hours went in cleaning my room, washing clothes, watching movies, go for shopping etc. The new found love for myself, made me even bolder now. I realized, I had always wanted to teach music. And lo! the opportunity came in and I got 3 kids between 5 to 16 years of age under my tutelage! I was now an entrepreneur! It was here Maya Angelou's words came to my rescue- If you get, give. If you learn, teach. I realized only when you give back to the society, your life becomes meaningful. And volunteering is a great way to start here. What better than TATA initiatives? I began teaching spoken English to security and house keeping staff once a week on weekdays. Though my joy grew multi fold, so did my work obligations. Volunteering on weekdays gradually became a distant possibility. But I was not to give up. When plan A doesn't work, there's always a plan B and the remaining 24 English alphabets! I decided to contribute through content creation instead of teaching and shifted volunteering to weekends instead of weekdays. This resulted in getting associated with other volunteering activities such as making doodles for road safety or attend awareness sessions on mental health or environment conservation or read stories to kids in a children's home. It is said that charity begins at home. For me, it began with myself. The moment I started to take care of myself, it got extended to my family and friends, colleagues and relatives, work place and communities. It was now time to give back to the city that embraced me with open arms. Through The Ugly Indian suggested by a dear friend, I contributed to this NGO's efforts to beautify Bengaluru by adopting the streets, flyovers, underpasses, metro stations, parks through simple geometrical wall paintings, garbage cleaning and sapling plantation, all of them famously known as spot fixing. I realized my problems were indeed manageable. And slowly my cribs turned into love. The expectations from myself, my family, work, colleagues, friends, relatives, communities became easier to maneuver. I started maintaining Gratitude and Thought journals. It is said that either you do what you like or like what you do. I know I have the capacity to look for things I want and pursue them. How about trying the other way round? i.e. instead of going for what I want, can I go for what is available? What does the city offer? Do I like it? Do I want to experiment with it? The answer was a big YES! Famous for numerous start ups, the city is active with events such as dialogues with books, travel, cinema, board games, comedy nights, karaokes in various cafes or at cubbon park and with film screenings and theater performances in metro station auditoriums too! People are ready to welcome new ideas and experiment with them. Boasting of cycling enthusiasts too, I also went for one day cycling trips. The Indian Heritage Walks (IHW) helped me see the city through a different lens. Karnataka being a state blessed with forests, beaches and heritage sites, weekend getaways are pretty popular in the city and I managed to visit Hampi (a long time wish, thanks to the Malayalam movie Aanandam) and Coorg through an adventure group and Karnataka State Tourism Development Corporation (KSTDC) respectively. My next in the wish list is Jungle lodges! As Bengaluru traffic is unavoidable and since I travel by AC Volvo buses of Bengaluru Metropolitan Transport Corporation (BMTC), I decided to read a book during the commute to not only avoid the boredom but to also add variety to my creative pursuits. Known also for pub culture, I reconnected with my cousins already settled here, and together, we explored pubs, fine dine restaurants, reminisced the old days, shared laughter, played poker, watched cricket matches and had loads of fun in simple terms! From all this I realized, when you know and accept who you are and then go for what you want, what you think, say and do, come in perfect harmony. You end up loving more, giving more and caring more. Genuinely. At the risk of sounding cliched, life is indeed a balance. It is simple but we make it complicated. That reminded me of a joke shared by a psychiatrist in the TV show Satyamev Jayate - Agar 100 saal ki zindagi, 10 saal mein jeena chahoge, toh pareshan hi rahoge na? (If you aim to live a 100 year life in 10 years, wouldn't you be stressed?) Now I give percentage of importance to all that matters to me. I neither chuck out anything or compromise anywhere. Because I know I can have it all but not all at once. I remind this kindly to myself and just play with the levels of significance. I try to be flexible enough to change them when necessary. I also try to embrace negative emotions like disappointments, anger, frustration and later change the way I feel about it. Now I don't feel like running away from the past or being afraid of the future. My endeavor instead has shifted to be the first rate version of my unique present. Trust me, it's very hard to practice but it is definitely worth giving a shot. I would like to end on a funny note, keeping in mind the pub culture of the city - When life throws lemons, I order a tequila. In true Bengalurean style, Enjoy Maadi!

Picture collection 1 - (From top to bottom) Family, Cousins, Friends

Picture collection 2 - Volunteering with The Ugly Indian

Picture collection 3 - Alumni meet with storytellers (Kathalaya Academy of Storytelling)

Picture collection 4 - (From top to bottom) Know Your Indian Roots, Dialogues with Books, Tipu Sultan Palace through IHW, SPIK MACAY Classical Vocal Concert

Picture collection 5 - Mime performance with TCS colleagues (Team Mounam)

Picture collection 6 - Art & Craft Workshops

Picture collection 7 - (From top to bottom) Story reading at children's home, doodling for traffic awareness, mental health awareness session at NIMHANS through Volunteer For Cause (VFC)

Picture 8 - Trip to Yelagiri with family and cousin's family

Last but not the least - my love for plants as a gift to all my wonderful readers

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fragranceformen · 5 years

Note

Once again, do all the excessively detailed questions for coffeeshopsoundtrack au!

What does their bedroom look like?

It’s mostly neat and tidy, but I guess nobody could blame me for occasionally throwing clothes to the floor after a hard day’s work. My bedding usually is dark colored with simplistic patterns; the bed is black and out of metal. It’s not the most comfy thing for Netflix and chill, but for everything else it does the job. My wardrobe consists of mirrored glass. On the sides of the bed I have a couple of metal and leather accessories displayed with dim lightning. You know what I’m talking about.

Do they have any daily rituals?

The most ritual thing is that in the morning I brush my teeth after using the toilet. I’m not a breakfast person and rather grab my coffee on my way to my jobs, and one more on the way back home in the evenings. Yes, I guess you could call coffee my most routine thing. I couldn’t exist without it.

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

Back in school I used to play basketball with the local team. However, that quickly died down after graduation and I have to admit that I slacked for a while when it comes to sport. When I moved from Japan to America a couple of years ago, I detested the chubby belly I had back then so much that I started to work out more and more. Currently, I try to hit the gym three times a week if my schedule allows. I came to like my body again, and I think this reflects in my ego.

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

Now that’s an easy one. It’s my kitchen, so if my guest is busy there, I damn well hope that he’s thinking of me. Else, I will gladly skip cooking to have a hard taste of another kind of meal. And yes, that sometimes definitely belongs into the kitchen as well.

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

When it comes to work and my camera equipment, I need to keep it tidy, clean and sorted with regular inspections. I don’t understand when people joke about me taking extra good care of the things I make a living with.My apartment usually is rather tidy, but not clinically. It looks like someone lives there while I still don’t have to be afraid of spontanuously having guests over. The only thing at home I can think of that’s always a mess, no matter how often I rearrange it, is my underwear and socks drawer. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but it always seems like someone tried to rob me and left a chaotic mess.

Eating habits and sample daily menu

As I said before, I’m not a breakfast type of person. My only proper meal per day I have in the evenings. If I’m cooking dinner myself, I watch out to prepare enough to take it with me to work on the following day. However, if i just end up throwing some frozen things into the oven after a particularly busy day, I’m forced to eat out on the following day. That’s usually not what I like to do because it costs money, but starving isn’t an option either. Sample menu… If I am cooking, it’s usually some combination of rice and meat with different vegetables. If I’m feeling extra fancy, I even prepare a soup or salad to have with the main dish. My cooking skills aren’t exactly incredibly, but I can manage.

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Should I be absolutely honest? Jerking off. Really. Time passes so quickly, it feels amazing and you can do whatever you have to do happy and refreshed. Apart from that, my new favorite way to waste my time (which in fact goes hand in hand with the first thing I mentioned) is texting/sexting a guy I recently met. Don’t blame me, but I can’t stop myself from messaging him or texting him back fast. Sounds cliché, but I assure you that it’s not what you think it is. Also, Netflix and chill.As I’m not home all that much, I don’t feel like having nothing in particular to do is a waste of time. It’s rather some sort of calming down after the day to get ready for the next one. Free days are a blessing as well.

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

Ah, it’s nasty to ask me something like that. My daily dose of super expensive coffee could definitely count as an indulgence, but I don’t even feel bad about spending so much money and tips on it. Hm, what else? When it comes to material things, I indulge in the luxury of leather and chains, of course only the best looking and quality things. For work, camera equipment of course. I don’t always need the newest stuff, but sometimes I simply want it, put together a bit of my savings and give in and buy it. Great photos are a pleasure to look at after all, so why not spend money on it.

Makeup?

Ah, just the basic things like concealer, color correctors, brow gel and lip balm.

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

Does territorial behavior towards your partner count? Probably not. In that case, I don’t suffer from anything like that.

Intellectual pursuits?

While my job definitely isn’t a very intellectual one, I for sure like to play the part. The more capable you look, the better jobs you are offered. I can’t say I pursue a very intellectual career because I love what I am currently doing and if possible would love to do it until death. But, one of these days I’d like to speak proper English without my still lingering Japanese accent.

Favorite book genre?

Easy one, science fiction! The more classic aliens, the better. Don’t you love to explore different peoples’ insights about what they think the universe might have to offer? I always get so excited when they shed some light on something new. Even though it’s just a work of art, maybe it holds a fair amount of truth. Wow, I get excited just talking about this!

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Each their own. I know people of the most different orientations and everyone is a human like the other. I myself am attracted to any kind of gender, probably because I am more attracted to kinky personalities than gender. I have had both girlfriends and boyfriends in the past and can’t say I have a preference. If it clicks it clicks. Can I just say that my preference is ‘often’?

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

I have a think scar on the backside of my left shoulder, and as awful as it may sound, I got it because an ex girlfriend dug her nail too deep. When it comes to food, I have to admit that anything containing sesame can end me up in the hospital. Seeds, oils, anything. Can you believe how awful it was to grow up in Japan without being able to eat anything containing these small bastards? I once indeed ended up in the hospital because I wasn’t aware that a dish was served in a sauce made of seasme oil, so my throat swelled so much that it was hard to breathe and I had incredible pain in the stomach. Ugh. Awful memories.

Biggest and smallest short term goal?

I wanna lay the guy I got to know recently. When it comes to small short term goals, that’s probably making the best edits out of the weddings I shooted lately. The people who hired me have rank and name in society, so them spreading the word about my work would be so amazing.

Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Instead of just freelancing my way through life, I would love to have my own photo studio some day. Not for the common things like family portraits though, but I dream of shooting celebrities within my own walls. That could be considered my biggest long term goal. When it comes to smaller wishes, I’d love to have more cats some day. Call me crazy cat guy, but the purr of a cat can be so calming. And, they are fun to watch.

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Actually, I like to keep it casual. Jeans, shirt, boots, a couple of bracelets and a necklace and I’m good to go. Rather often lately, work forces me to dress up in suit and tie. I can’t say that I hate it, but it’s not really comfortable. However, I realize that dressing up like that has a certain impact on people, which I really love to witness. So maybe, just maybe, I will use this style of clothing more often in the future, at least for more special situations.

Favorite beverage?

I usually drink a lot of water. Soft drinks can stay away from me. What I need though is a lot of coffee, that’s like my guilty pleasure. When it comes to alcohol, beer of course, but only at home. When eating out with someone, a glass of wine is a must have, and when I’m out with friends and we go to the clubs, I prefer to drink it not mixed at all. What’s better than a glass of whiskey? It’s classy, it’s tasty.

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

I tend to not think about a lot when trying to fall asleep. Mostly it’s just things that happened throughout the day that made me happy. Usually, when I fall asleep with happy thoughts I have a good and relaxing sleep and can get out of bed much easier in the morning.

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

As a kid, I had high fever a couple of times that made me blank out completely. I only know from people telling me, but my parents must have been worried to death. Nobody had explanations and so the doctors were just glad when eventually it occured less and less until I only get a fever once in one or two years now. Up to this day, we don’t know what caused it.

Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

My biggest turn on are partners who can challenge me in bed without simply doing as instructed. When that’s a given, anything from latex to leather to chains, handcuffs, chokers, ropes…. All of that used properly gets me so hot. I need a partner to fight with about who all of that will be used on in the end. On the contrary, I do have a thing for sensuality as well, if it’s not a boring overload of it.What I can’t stand are crybabies who act all so tough and in the end can’t cope with someone manhandling them. Also, anything that includes piss and feces is a no go. Oh. And when someone spits instead of swallowing, they can leave right away. I will never get a hard on for them again.

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

What kind of question is that? I will make a paper plane out of it and use the pencil to draw little aliens as passengers!

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

When it comes to work, I am very organized. I keep track of every job with every little detail in my phone and always have business cards with me. In private life, things look a bit different. Because I always have to pay so much attention to all the details for my jobs that the rest of my life suffers a bit when it comes to organization. I forget birthdays and forget when I made plans with friends. It’s awful.

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

I think I answered something like that above already? Correct me if I’m mistaken.

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

Ideally, I will finally have found a long term partner by then who helps me to paint my freshly acquired photo studio! Both of that together would be a dream come true, and it’s not completely unrealistic.In 5 years from now, I probably still will not have kids, and probably Nexy will not be with me anymore by then. It makes me sad to think about it, but most likely one or two other cats will have taken her place.

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

My only plan is to make career with photography and become a known and often booked photographer for giant events and celebrity shootings. If that doesn’t work out, I honestly don’t know what I will do. I have focused my entire life on making career with that, so if for some reason I wouldn’t be able to take photos anymore, I would have nothing left as a backup plan.

What is their biggest regret?

I should have stayed in touch with the guys I was in a band with for fun during high school and college. I shouldn’t have done that one mistake that got me into jail and made them walk away from me. I was too scared and ashamed to try to stay in touch with them, and they never reached out to me either. If I could turn back time, i would handle everything differently.

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

My best friend is a guy called Shion. He stayed back in Japan when I moved to the states, but we still write each other very often, make phone calls whenever time zone difference allows is and keep each other up to date. I have a couple of friends here in San Francisco as well, but none of them would I trust with my life.

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

Call the police, call the fire department, whatever is necessary. I save what I can save and make my way out of it. Top things to be saved would probably be my camera equipment, my phone, my macbook. Without these items I would be lost. If everything is lost to the fire, earthquake, whatever it is, I would have no choice but to go to either friends or my family. Neither would be a great choice because I would undoubtedly be a bother in their daily lives.

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

This would be the worst. I can’t cope well with loss and death, and losing someone close to me or just seeing them in a coma, I don’t know what I would do. Probably break down at first before trying to do all in my might to make it unhappen. I know, it’s stupid and senseless, but I am not a man who accepts that nature so easily defeats him.

Most prized possession?

The virginity of the guy who always as a bitch to me in high school.

Thoughts on material possessions in general?

I like material possessions. Some people would disagree and call me materialistic, but for me it’s important to have something to spend a bit of my money on because it simply makes me happy. No other reason. I also love to buy small things for the people who are important to me; jewelry for example if I know they will like it.

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

While privacy is important to me, I don’t overdo it. I love to tease others with giving them insights into my privacy. For example, when I am over at a sexy person’s place and take a shower, i tend to leave the door a bit open so that they can see whatever they want to see. I have nothing to hide when it comes to my body.For me, I am alone too often lately. It doesn’t do me well and I urgently need to change that again. I rather have people invade my privacy than have too much privacy.When it comes to others, I expect their wishes, unless I know them well enough to be able to tell when it’s okay to sneak into their privacy.

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

Honestly? Napping. I can’t stop laughing now that I think about it. Sometimes I just lie down, fall asleep because that’s what I want in this very moment, and when I wake up I blame myself for having wasted so much time. It’s an awful discrepancy.

What makes them feel guilty?

Not paying the proper amount of attention to the people who deserve it most. I tend to get lost in my own thoughts and needs so that I don’t see the little things, or don’t listen to the little details, or don’t read between the lines. I hate when i don’t catch something properly. That even makes me apologize as soon as I know I missed something, because it’s their right to blame me for it. I can’t fulfill their needs if I am too distracted to know of them.

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

A mix of both. Being emotional makes me act analytically. Does that make sense? When something bothers me emotionally, I tend to calculate ways to change it. I form complex plans to get to perfect emotional health.

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

There’s one particular thing which I’m not very proud of saying. When I’m really done with everything, the thing that really recharges me emotionally and physically is great, rough sex, and just lying in each others arms whispering equally kinky and loving shit to each other. Feeling needed and loved like that, there’s nothing better to be able to function properly again.

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Neither. I am not feeling particularly superior or inferior about anything. Now that I think about it, that’s not quite correct, in fact. I do feel superior in bed with most of my partners, which is a bit sad, actually. It should be equal power. But inferior? No, there’s nothing I can think of, currently.

How misanthropic are they?

I don’t consider myself that misanthropic. Sure, there are always people who annoy me, but isn’t that normal? That doesn’t make me hat humanity. There are always very great exceptions that make me love humans in general, because that means people like these exist.

Hobbies?

There’s not a fair lot, to be honest. My job is my hobby at the same time, and I couldn’t wish for it to be any other way. I guess you can say going to the gym and taking care of my body is a hobby as well. But currently, nothing beats texting/ sexting that guy I met. It’s my top activity apart from work.

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

I finished High School and College, not with very great success, but I did. I was simply too lazy. Right now, I definitely do prefer self education because you can choose the topics yourself. Had school offered thing I was even remotely interested in, like galaxies, life outside of earth, I would have been better as well. But in general, a healthy mix of both is probably the best, but I can’t blame anyone for not bringing up the energy to educate themselves while still in school.

Religion?

I respect religious people, but I’m not religious myself. With the things I did, the things I do, I would long have been cast into hell. That didn’t happen, so personally I doubt a God exists. I was raised in a very strange mix of buddhism and christianity, but in the end I adapted neither.

Superstitions or views on the occult?

That on the other hand is amazing. I love the theories and everything about black magic and I would not say no if someone said “Hey, let’s try this.” I’m just too curious to see if there really is something you can do by mere rituals and words. But for now, I absolutely do not doubt it at all.Ah, what I really don’t have a thing for are people who have a crystal ball in front of them and claim to read your past and future. I don’t see any real theory behind how that would be supposed to work.

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

Deeds. I am okay with words and know how to use them for my advantages, but actually doing something instead of just talking, that’s a different level for me. It influences people more than mere words. A lot of people know how to talk smoothly, but in the end that’s all they can do. So I rather focus on the deeds right from the start.

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Ah, I think I talked a lot about that already. But let’s talk about my ideal partner for a moment. They would need to look great and attractive - yes, I am superficial - and be a kinky little bastard who can be a challenge for me. I fall for someone who is intelligent, smooth and fun and not shy to break some rules every now and then. Still, we need to be able to have serious conversations and to the common couple activities like going to the movies and visiting friends. Obviously, they like my friends and my friends like them. We do a lot together, eventually move in together, and they don’t blame me for not being the best cook, rather laugh it off and in the end we try to figure it out together. Also, it’s important that they let me ramble about outer space things as much as I like and not tell it off as stupid.

How do they express love?

Kisses in public, holdings hands, subtle touches of their neck and waist. I buy them jewelry, flowers, whatever they like. I go the extra mile to organize surprise birthday parties, take them to the coast at night and hold their hips from behind after we woke up early to watch the sunrise. I wish them a nice day, kiss them goodbye, kiss them hello in the evening.I don’t say the three words easily, but when I do, I mean it. So rather, I show them my love instead of speaking about it. Preferably, the harder I spank them, the more I love them.

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

Very straightforward, at least that’s the way it always has been when I got into fights. I don’t think much, because during that time I would get ko’ed. So rather, I just punch whatever is in my way, and hope that this will get me further and make me the winner of the fight. Sounds stupid, probably is stupid.

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

I am not really afraid of death itself. I am rather afraid of not having lived my life to the fullest. I am scared of leaving a loved one behind, and I would forever blame myself to leave them alone in this cruel world when I can no longer be there to take care of them. Nobody knows what comes after death, and I hate to worry others or to see them suffer for something that’s not their fault.

#marrymyguitar #holy #that took hours #please enjoy

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