#i was just thinking about this scene and then remembered a thread id made on twt a couple months ago and. basically redacted it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

greenhorn-art · 8 months

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Prince of Shadows, Lord of Thieves by alkat

Fandom: The King's Avatar | 全职高手

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Words: 1 929

Once upon a time, their exploits were immortalized by artists and writers across the tapestry of history. Once upon a time, they were worshipped as gods and reviled as demons. None of that stopped the Met from stealing all their shit.

About the Book

FONTS: Alegreya [Google Fonts], Lato [Google Fonts]

IMAGES: all art made by myself @greenhorn-art for this fic

MATERIALS: regular ol' printer paper (8.5"x11", 20lb, 96 bright); ~2-2.5mm binder's board; Neenah cardstock (8.5"x11", 65lb, bright white); Cialux bookcloth (black); waxed linen thread (30/3 size, white); wheat paste (1:4 flour:water); paste wax (from a friend, unknown ingredients&quantities, some kind of wax and turpentine/mineral spirits)

PROGRAMS USED: Affinity Publisher 2; Affinity Designer 2; Bookbinder JS | Renegade's Community Imposer (settings: Quarto, snug against binding edge, custom signatures of 2, 1, 2 sheets).

Text & QR codes printed with colour laser printer (duplex, flip long edge), images printed with inkjet printer. QR codes generated with LibreOffice Writer, snipped, saved, and inserted where needed.

BINDING: quarto (quarter-letter) size, sewn board binding with french link stitch and breakaway spine.

So this one all started because the visual of HST's outfit was so fun that I was possessed by a visceral need to draw it. Inspiration slapped me across my mind's eye, and much like a medieval knight being slapped in the face by a glove (which didn't actually happen, that's a myth that sprung from the throwing down of a gauntlet. but that's beside the point), I felt bound to take up the challenge. Which lead me to draw a few more, and then I ended up binding the whole thing.

(Also, I find it really amusing that the famous Terracotta Warriors were just storage for YXs stuff. And the gang going 'shopping' at various exhibits for gifts for friends/family,, like that sure is SOME window shopping! I can hear it now: 'Oooh I'll take one one those SMASH, and that SHATTER, and throw in some of those CRASH, they're going to love these! 😇'. All in all, it was a fun little read, and fun little project! :D)

About the Art

Because this was initially a one-off drawing I tried a new art style (and struggled to at least not stray too far for the rest). It was fun and helped me think more about shape and visual focus, instead of being caught up in the details.

The crow (based off of image ID: 4039963 from Rawpixel) and the red umbrella on the front cover were filled curves made with the pen tool. The illustrations' poses were based off of a combination of images found on Google and photos taken by myself.

Pinterest is awful for sources, but it would have been handy to pin the references I'd googled. Only remembered to save the one of a man sitting at a desk. (I deliberately searched for someone sitting with bad posture because YX is described as being "slumped" over the desk. I figure that since "the laws of physics held no meaning to ["cursed souls eschewed by the natural order"]", they'd also be immune to mundane things like discomfort from sitting hunched over for too long. Back pain images were a gold mine! All I had to do was choose one with lighting that would give me a silhouette.)

The Myriad Manifestations Umbrellas and illustrations were drawn in Procreate.

I opted for a more plain umbrella design because it's not (presumably) a fantastical weapon in this story. Though the initial version did have YX cradling the donghua!MMU.

For the scene breaks I inserted the images, pinned them inline as character, and adjusted height and baseline in the pinning menu to fit.

The author wrote one scene break differently than the others, using multiple empty paragraphs instead of just one. Following suit, I used a different image for that particular break. I wanted to reference vampires somewhere, so for that break I made two bloody spots resembling bite marks. The blood spots were made with a group of shapes in Designer.

On cover design:

Because the MMU is what sparks the whole heist, I wanted it on the front cover.

Earlier iterations involved a full cover spread with a man's shadow standing before a shattered glass case, with a plaque mounted on the wall to the left providing information. The plaque was formatted like a museum label and had the author, date published, title, event collection, and story description. I'd also added a QR code to it. Ultimately, I abandoned the concept because it was difficult to decipher what is was when only looking a one cover at a time.

My second idea for the cover would have been a bookcloth-only cover with a cut-out of the MMU on the front, acting like a window showing off an image of the MMU on paper below it. (Inspired by the work of a number of folks over on Renegade's Discord. Here's a few examples gleaned from a quick search: szynkaaa's lung cutouts, some of EHyde's books, and the front cover of Spock's massive all-in-one TGCF). As fun as that would have been to try out, I felt it didn't quite suit the style of the art so I nixed that too.

Eventually I landed on the back cover design with the Met exhibition webpage. At last, I felt that the back & white and simple-shapes-background went with the artwork. The webpage viewed on the phone is based off of the Met's actual website. I took a snip/screenshot of the Met's logo from the banner at the top, then looked at their exhibitions' pages and eyeballed it to create my own. (Threw in the QR because I wanted the easy access to the fic online on the back cover). I chose to use a phone screen rather than I computer monitor because it worked better composition-wise. And besides, while YX may be allergic to owning a phone, SMC is not. I imagine that she saw the news while on her phone then messaged him.

The front cover came together after that. An umbrella for the MMU, and a pop of red. One of YX's messenger crows. A black shape in the background similar to the back cover's, sort of creating a spotlight over the umbrella and placing the rest of the cover in shadow.

Trying New Things: Applying a protective finish to printed covers

Over on the Renegade Bindery Discord, folks have spoken about using a beeswax & turpentine/mineral spirits 50-50 mix to seal printed covers (thank you Kate). According to my dad that's just a paste wax, so he threw 3 different ones at me and said 'have at it'.

I tested them out using the same paper and inkjet I'll use for the cover. I was looking at 1) whether the paste wax affected the paper colour or print quality, and 2) the finish. After applying one coat each and buffing them out I had my winner. Then I applied & buffed two more coats to it and tested 3) water resistance by dripping tea on it. The liquid beaded up and wiped away without staining -- good, three coats will work nicely.

(Test results: Mystery paste wax from a friend wins.

The commercial SC Johnson Paste Wax Original formula (intended for woodworking) has a nice dry shiny finish, but coloured the paper slightly brown -> disqualified

My dad's homemade stuff has a nice shiny/satin finish and didn't change paper's colour, but it felt slightly tacky even after buffing it -- maybe I didn't buff it enough?

The gifted paste wax has a matte finish, didn't change paper's colour (in the image below this one has 3 coats. The paper is now slightly off-white, but still acceptable), and while not as dry-to-touch as the Johnson it was not as tacky as the other homemade stuff.)

When I print out my quarto covers, I print front and back covers side-by-side on the same page*, with some guides to ensure I'm cutting and gluing in the correct place. (The guides mark the boundaries of the covers and start of the turn-ins, and stop at the edge of where I cut. Before cutting I flip it over to mark the guides [see marks indicated in image below] on the wrong side and connect them so I can see where to glue/place book. Then flip it back over to cut, right side up.)

*I'm being economical here at the cost of possible warping damage. This layout means that I'm only using one sheet of paper, but the grain is running in the wrong direction (across the book instead of preferred head-to-tail/top-bottom). This could cause warping issues, but I'm OK with that. I'm hoping that by just gluing at the edges, instead of pasting down the whole thing, warping will be minimized. (I use wrong-grain endpapers most of the time with larger books anyways).

I applied the paste wax before cutting out the covers, working carefully to avoid accidentally creasing/bending the paper (which happened twice, but it was minimal and I hardly notice it). Doing so before cutting ensured that the cover material was completely covered. Even the turn-ins -- something I later came to regret. After all, wax is used specifically so that things don't stick to it. It made it rather difficult to drum on the endpapers because I was trying to glue something down onto a waxy surface. It all worked out in the end -- perhaps due to the fact that there were multiple layers of wheat paste which could adhere to each other, followed by being squashed in a press.

#Prince of Shadows Lord of Thieves #alkat #fanfiction #bookbinding #my art #the king's avatar #qzgs #tka

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shortpplfedup · 2 years

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Anatomy of a Scene Let's Just Talk About It (TW: dubcon)

KinnPorsche, Episode 4 Directors: Khom Kongkiat Khomsiri, Pepzi Banchorn Vorasataree, Pond Krisda Witthayakhajorndet Writers: Pond Krisda Witthayakhajorndet, Poi Patchayamon Theewasujaroen, Yok Sitthichai Panya, Ning Bhanbhassa Dhubthien Cast: Mile Phakphum Romsaithong (Kinn), Apo Nattawin Wattanagitiphat (Porsche)

Dominance and submission. Control and loss of control. Where power resides, relinquishing power and taking power for yourself. Letting your guard down and lowering inhibitions. Succumbing to desires unspoken, hidden, leashed, buried. Trust. Vulnerability. Shedding one's armour. And consequences.

The show treated the dubcon LIKE DUBCON. Getting high out of your mind and choosing to fuck somebody you've been curious about is a tale as old as time. Similarly, knowing that you shouldn't fuck somebody in a situation like this, but the person is saying and doing the all the things you want to believe is also a tale as old as time. If Porsche had chosen to take the drug instead of being drugged the conversation would be very different. But the point remains that we DO see Porsche make choices here, inasmuch as those choices are influenced by a drug that lowers your inhibitions. That's why it's dubcon and not noncon. Wrong on Kinn's part, absolutely. But let's remember that KINN IS NOT A GOOD PERSON, as much as he may want to be. He's the mafia heir despite being the second son because he's good at it, and you can't be good at something you don't enjoy even a little bit. Kinn likes power, he likes the challenge of staying a step ahead of his enemies, but he also wants a respite from all of that. He wants to be able to be vulnerable and soft sometimes, and to not have to think so hard and just do what he feels. Sometimes he wants to relinquish his power entirely and have somebody else be in control. He wants to trust somebody enough to allow that. And something in him is telling him he can trust Porsche.

For Porsche's part, this is a man who has been forced to wrest some level of control from a life that has given him very limited control since his parents died. Porsche's real choices are so few; what power he does have is so small. It's why he's such raging id: one thing he DOES have the power to do is take very little seriously. We see that he can be reckless, promiscuous, less than honest, mischievous. He'll fuck a random woman in an alleyway on his break. He'll piss in a koi pond as a 'fuck you' to his supervisor. He'll put wasabi in his boss' drink. He'll scam a spa day out of the auntie. He'll drink on the job. Petty rebellions, but all the rebellion he can get away with.

I made the point before that despite all the ways that Kinn has power over Porsche in general, but especially in this scene (he's the boss, Porsche is the employee; he's sober, Porsche is not; he's older and we assume more experienced sexually with men than Porsche), that Kinn is the one who seems vulnerable somehow. His self-control with regard to Porsche is a fraying thread, and Porsche is deliberately pulling at that thread. Porsche LIKES that Kinn likes him, that he obviously treats him specially, that he has this power over Kinn. How he touches him and grabs him in this scene is taunting. 'You want me, and only I can give me to you, only I can give you what you want.' He grabs his dick. He flicks his nipple. He makes him grope his crotch. He grabs him by the neck, almost by the throat, and kisses him, hard. If he wasn't drugged, these would all be considered Not On. Kinn hasn't consented to being touched like this, and he pulls away, slaps his hands away at first. But Porsche's power over him is an incredible turn on for them both. It's pure D/s. Kinn has been shown to be extremely careful, cautious. But when it comes to Porsche he's not careful at all. He throws caution to the wind in every sense. He goes out and gets drunk with his bodyguards, leaving himself unprotected and open to attack. He doesn't kiss his lovers but he kisses Porsche, passionately. He HAS to know if Porsche is seeing anybody, and what Porsche thinks of him so badly that he's obvious to anybody with eyes. When he gets to touch Porsche, he's worshipful with his body. We see that he practises safe sex with his lovers but he has very unsafe sex with Porsche.

Consequences will clearly arrive with the morning. There's a reason we consider having sex with somebody under the influence to be somewhere on the spectrum of 'a bad idea' to rape, depending on the context. There's a reason D/s dynamics and ESPECIALLY D/s sex should be discussed and the rules laid out BEFORE anything happens. There will be repercussions to this for both Kinn and Porsche, socially and emotionally. And that's how dubcon SHOULD be treated: it should have consequences. Their path to each other, and their entire relationship going forward (professional AND personal) WILL be warped by this first encounter.

On a technical level, the way this scene is written, acted, shot and scored is incredible. That's just a phenomenal amount of trust for and between your actors, and between actors and directors.

Side note: I am now extremely ready for Tawan to enter the tale, because I want to see who Kinn used to be, and how he's different now. Pete alluded to Kinn changing after something happened, Vegas taunted him about having his heart broken, Tay and Time are encouraging him to flirt with Porsche in a way that seems like they're delighted he's into somebody...they all see that Kinn treats Porsche specially and you get the sense that they haven't seen this side of Kinn for a while.

By the way if this gets punted by Tumblr, I'll repost sans video.

#kinnporsche #anatomy of a scene series #on art #meta

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charcubed · 3 years

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Let's talk about Supernatural 15x07, "Last Call."

Or as I like to call it, "the episode that makes me go feral because it tells us so much about Dean's sexuality, character, and arc."

YES others have written meta! YES I will talk about it myself for the satisfaction! I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

This post was originally a thread on Twitter and I am crossposting it to my blog.

Alt image IDs are included in that linked Twitter thread!

Join me on this journey.

What's the context of this episode? Dean's been kind of down/depressed, feeling hopeless in the face of the idea that they have to defeat God (and not really working towards that goal much), and he's mid-divorce with Cas. He goes out on this solo case to try to clear his head.

And he ends up at Swayze's Bar.

Look, there are many things to be said about this. Dean loves Patrick Swayze. Arguably has a CRUSH on Swayze. It's very tied up in Dean pretending not to like "chick flicks" but he secretly does, which is queer coding. This was a Choice™️.

Speaking of Choices™️: professional actors made many here. Deliberately.

Dean is smacked on the ass by a woman and then Lee smacks him on the ass too. Dean and Lee CONSTANTLY have physical familiarity and fond eye contact. I will limit myself to 1 paragraph about this lest I list it all.

My point is that I just really need every person to digest and accept the fact that this is textually bi Dean. Not subtext; it's TEXT.

Dean and Lee had a relationship. Their history is alluded to in touch and in words. They had an orgy together. Dean's bisexuality is not repressed.

It's also now canon that Dean tries to hide that he can sing well. Most people don't know (like Sam) but some do (Lee). Hence "Eye of the Tiger" callback.

And so: that's also the implication for his sexuality. Dean singing ON STAGE with bi lighting is him being ready to be Out.

They dedicated an entire half an ep at minimum to emphasizing he's bi... and to Dean having a conversation with someone he (initially) trusts about potentially having a break from hunting, and what that could mean.

LEE: You're chasing missing persons, huh? I thought you'd be on to something bigger by now, like the Loch Ness Monster... Bigfoot.

DEAN: Trust me, uh, bigger doesn't always equal better. Besides, who's gonna look out after the little guy? God certainly isn't.

LEE: Damn, brother, that's dark.

DEAN: Yeah, it's been a rough, uh... it's been a rough decade, Lee.

LEE: Yeah.

DEAN: But that's a conversation for a different time, 'cause this, this right here, this is all right.

LEE: Well, I'm glad you approve. This is nothing you can't have, man.

DEAN: Oh, come on. Who's gonna kill the bad guys?

LEE: Somebody else. Dean, how many lives you think you saved, huh? Hundreds? Thousands? You deserve a break, bro. Hell, you might even deserve two.

"But Lee turns out to be a villain!" some might say. "Isn't the point that giving up hunting is bad?"

Nope.

Lee's a DARK MIRROR for Dean. He exists to exhibit the truths behind Dean's desires, and then what they'd look like if they turned bad. Take it from him: "I am you."

There are LAYERS here. You can't focus on the dark side and ignore the truths that take place in the (often bi) light.

The singing? The conversations about taking a break? Throwing men out of the bar, which is framed heroically? "Road House rules" (another Choice™️)?

NONE of that was bad. It shows what Dean wants.

Things only get bad–literally and visually–when Dean's tied up as Lee suddenly says wrong things in the dark.

The contrast exists to show that maintaining Goodness is a choice, and Dean would have no problem upholding that.

LEE: It's called a marid. It's a freaky-looking little thing, isn't it? [Lee laughs, and Dean stares at him, incredulous] Ah. As long as you feed it, it gives you money, it gives you health, everything you dreamed of.

DEAN: And so, what, it just costs innocent lives?

LEE: Dean, you and I both know no one's innocent. After everything we've done, aren't... aren't we owed a little happiness, huh? Don't we deserve that much?

DEAN: Listen to yourself. "We're owed." "We deserve." Come on, man. You're not God. Hell, God's not even God.

LEE: Good or bad... the world doesn't care. No one cares, Dean.

DEAN: Well, I do.

LEE: Yeah. And that's what got you here. Now, takes a while to drain a man, but listen to me. Don't worry about it, all right? Don't worry because once you lose a couple of pints, you just fall asleep, and then it'll be over.

[Lee pats Dean on the shoulder]

DEAN: Lee.

LEE: This... this is not how I wanted this to go, Dean. When that blonde girl walked in here last night, I should've know, you know, Dean Winchester, the righter of wrongs, you were gonna keep digging, and you were gonna figure me out. And if it's got to be you or me, well, I got to pick me, man.

"No one cares, Dean."

"Well, I do."

It's a reminder to himself as much as it is to Lee. It's a re-centering of purpose that he sorely needs.

And what's also key? Lee is human, but is now a "monster" in Dean's words. Because Lee lost his ability to care, Dean can't abide by that.

(Side note: bonus for the fact that Lee dies up against a wall by being impaled and he coughs up blood. You know who doesn’t cough up blood in their very weird and unrealistic death scene? Dean in the finale.)

Remember: Lee is a dark mirror for Dean. "I am you."

By fighting and (tragically) killing Lee, Dean "kills" the darker side of himself. The side that's struggling to keep going right now... AND the side that fears eventually wanting a break means you must be selfish and stop caring.

He can keep going. He can find strength to fight God–and in the end, take a break and CHOOSE peace. It won't make him dark. He's the most caring man on Earth, even when it's hard. That’s reinforced later.

Isn't he owed a little happiness? And that's not in the having. It's in just being.

The bonus is what's going on with Cas in this episode.

Dean's clearing his head and finding his center again while Cas is calling him.

Come home. I need you. Remember what matters.

And again, contrast: Lee turns out not to be "real/true" in the way Dean thought he was. But Cas IS.

And after Dean goes through all of this... he's grounded again, he recognizes that even amongst questions of what God controls there are still choices to be made, he's reminded that letting his caring heart lead him is priority, he's lost another friend...

He comes home to Cas.

It's awkward. They're still distanced.

But this episode is a turning point for Dean. He's not angry at Cas anymore, he wants to talk, he's ready to move forward... he just doesn't know how to yet.

And if you follow the through-line... then you get Rowena saying "fix it"... and then after that is the Purgatory prayer.

I just !!!

S15 is packed with Dean development to hone in towards the end of his arc, but "Last Call" manages to hit SO many buttons.

• He's always been bi, & is ready to be Out

• He can want a break–& maybe run a bar like the Roadhouse

• Caring is at the core of who he is

It's about the CHOICE. It's about wanting to live your truths, and that "caring" can mean many things–from defeating God and saving the world, to making the hard choices when it counts, to maybe running a bar where people are safe.

14x10 and its matching Texan Star also say hello:

DEAN: How come you always have a boyfriend?

PAMELA: How come you only want what you can't have?

DEAN: Whoa.

PAMELA: Besides, you don't want me. You just like to flirt. I'm a psychic, so I kinda know.

DEAN: All right.

PAMELA: So, still not ready to sell the bar, huh? It's a lot of money.

DEAN: Sell? This bar? This is my dream.

PAMELA; Yeah.

And I recognize that rereading this info is sad(der) now because of what we got in the end, so uh... sorry.

But that's half the point: it's repeatedly blatantly clear what we were meant to get, down to deliberate echoes in word choice–caring, happiness, deserve, even Roadhouse.

Dean was meant to choose to take a break, maybe run a bar–whether on Earth or in Heaven. At minimum, if Dean was meant to end up in Heaven, he was meant to choose it with eyes wide open. And the next time the phone rang with Cas' name (15x19), he RAN for him. He was VERY ready.

And the whole season tells you that. This episode is just my favorite.

So... thanks for letting me ramble on about it!!!

DEAN WINCHESTER: BI ICON, ONCE-LOVER OF LEE WEBB, THE MOST CARING MAN ON EARTH WHO DESERVED TO CHOOSE PEACE AFTER GAINING HIS FREEDOM, & SOULMATE TO AN ANGEL

And a very big thank you to the talented kings Jensen Ackles & Christian Kane, and their longstanding friendship. They gave me many rights with their acting choices.

Here's an iconic bonus for the road.

#supernatural #spn meta #15x07 Last Call #Lee Webb #Dean Winchester #Destiel #Dean is bi #took a lot of self control for me to not go FUCKING FERAL in this #char writes things

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wangxianficrecs · 3 years

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Fic Finder

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1. Hi, I'm looking for an Untamed fic, maybe you'll be able to help. It's a canon divergence AU in which WWX doesn't lose his core, Jiang Fengmian lives and it's implied that his core was transferred to JC (heavily implied; JFM retires as the Sect Leader after that). This is absolutely not the most important part of this fic but it's a paragraph that I've got stuck in my head and now I'm searching for the rest @_@ Thanks in advance! ~ @otemporaetmores

FOUND! by @notsobabblespace, who was reminded of I’m aching and I know you are too by edenwolfie (part 3 in series, M, 23k, wangxian)

FOUND! by @jim-is-spocks-thyla, who suggests ❤️ to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian) [ETA: Oops, not this one. JFM has no core, but he didn’t give it to JC]

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2. Hi Mojo! I’m in need of you/your followers help in finding a fic that I read a little while ago. It was a fic where Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi lived together in Cloud Recesses and their children were Sizhui and an OOC that was younger than him. I remember SiZhui faced a lot of criticism for not being the chief cultivator’s real child? And they were happy he had a younger sibling that would be sect leader in the future because he was blood. Come to think of it, this is probably an ABO fic too. Thanks for your time 💜

FOUND! @andidontmeanto believes this is Blue Blood by PotterheadAvengerDemigod (T, 91k, wangxian, my post)

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3. Aksks it's like 3 am but I just remembered a fic and I can't find it?? I'd really, really appreciate your help. It was a wangxian fic, maybe a oneshot idk, and lwj was kind of a nerd and wwx a badboy? So basically lwj has a massive crush on him and dresses up like wwx etc. (i think he even got an undercut) and after a party they sleep with each other at lwj's place?

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4. i’m looking for a fic set in the where lwj’s mother killed his father? i don’t think that was a main plot point but it did show up in his backstory - any idea what this might be? ~ @thehype

FOUND! @rentslirott thinks this could be ❤️the best of you by sysrae (E, 42k, wangxian, my post)

FOUND! @castaways-logbook offers The Right to Care by travelingneuritis (E, 39k, wangxian, WIP)

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5. ... same as #6 ...

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6. Hello friend, sorry for the inconvenience but I wanted to see if you could please find me a fic that I lost but I only remember more or less the final part, it goes more or less like this, lan zhan and wei ying are kidnapped by jin guangyao and lock them up if not I'm wrong in some cells next to lan xichen after the fights jin guangyao dies but lan xichen did know how bad jin guangyao had done and he didn't care and then to get revenge he wants to kill wei ying but lan zhan kills him and sizhui gets scared It was more or less like that, please help me ~ @isa0123lol

FOUND! by @wangxiansfics who says that tragically it’s no longer available, but @dulachodladh found it on WaybackMachine here: Thread and Needle by haysel (M, 86k, wangxian)

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7. Hi, Mojo! I'm glad that you're back but I hope you enjoyed your time off tumblr! Can you and/or your followers help me find a fic? I think the summary was talking about wwx and somehow they were asking mingjue for help since he's the only one who can help. The summary was in italics and it's a dialogue from some guy? And a shorter summary below. Sadly this is the only thing I can remember but I hope you can still help me

FOUND! @alwayswenning suggests love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, has it’s own fanfic here, I just finished this last night!, my bookmark)

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8. Sorry to bombard you as soon as you're back, but this one's driving me crazy--a modern AU where they met online. WWX thinks LWJ is an old man from how he talks. I don't remember much except the excerpt made it seem like he still was amused by/enjoyed talking to him, and Wen Qing was telling him it was a bad idea and to stop. It's not How to Fall In Love With a Catfish, tho that one is brilliant! (Also any top notch identity porn would be great) Hope your break was restful, you deserve it! Thanks

Here’s my #identity porn tag, but I’m not sure about this exact story.

I'm the anon for #8 on the fic finder. Though I'm excited to read it, the suggested fic isn't the one I was looking for. I swear I thought I saw it on here around a month ago or slightly more, but searches have failed me.

FOUND! Rating: General Audiences by Mishaa (T, 18k, wangxian WIP) - mysterious author LWJ (speculated to be an old man because of his formality) and infamous artist WWX paired up for an Untamed Big Bang (in an AU where JGY was the series’ antiheroic protagonist; this fic was written before the release of CQL.)

FOUND? could you be looking for Something Real by Latios (G, 5k, wangxian, my post) - wwx thinks lwj is an old man, but there’s no WQ. There are many pictures of bunnies.

SIMILAR! @emilysidhe thought of ID Bro Saga by Bowandtie (T, 39k, wangxian)

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9. Hey, how are you? Could you help me please? I've read 3 fanfics once, but I can't find them anymore. 1 - Nanny Problem, Wei is going to be the babysitter of A-Yuan, he is an omega and Lan is an alpha. 2 - Doctor Perfect, Yibo is an omega nurse and Xiao is an alpha doctor. 3 - The Baby of my Omega, Yibo is omega and Xiao is alpha, both of them are bodyguards, but Yibo has to protect Xiao in the beginning. I think they were at ao3, but I really can't find them. Can you help me please? Thank you!! ~ @weallmad

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10. Hi! Im happy you’re back. I hope you had a good break. I missed your recommendations, but at the same time i got a break from fics and actually studied to my tests haha. [Ah! I’m glad to hear your time was spent productively!] I’m looking for a fic like Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground. In the fic im looking for wangxian slowly lose their senses instead of all of them at once. Like they lose their hearing, then touch, sight etc, They can’t see each other or hear each other. I’m sorry i can’t explain very well.

FOUND? Could you be thinking of ❤️shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi (E, 25k, wangxian)? Only lwj losese his senses one by one in this one, though.

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11. heyyy im trying to find this fic where wwx died the first time he was thrown in to the burial mounds then 10 years later he gets resurrected or something. I can't find it on AO3 and it's been bugging me for days. Thank you!

FOUND! Well, @moku-youbi offers both of these as possibilities:

Did I Not Explain Why the Sunset Turns Red? by 3988Akasha (E, 100k, wangxian)

we're starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 95k, wangxian)

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12. Hi I am looking for a fic where wwx is a witch (/mage?) in a world where magic is being persecuted (especially in Gusu) except for Yunmeng/Lanling I think but they're still frowned upon nonetheless. Then after accidentally hurting Shijie, wwx runs away, and ends up hiding in Gusu pretending to be a servant to lwj (lwj is a prince, lxc is the emperor) but lwj actually knows of his identity and tries not-so-discreetly to protect him from being caught. Thanks!

FOUND! by @bibliobasilisk who gives us Witchfinder by misbehavingvigilante (E, 86k, wangxian)

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13. Hi! Firstly, I'm glad to see you're back, and I hope your break was a good one! I'm trying to find a LWJ/WWX story that I had planned to read and ending up losing before I could. It was set in the immediate aftermath of the 33 lashes, LWJ is in the Jingshi recovering when a healer(?) discovers he's pregnant (by WWX). It may have been a/b/o verse, but I'm not 100% on that. Part of the story was a flashback to when WWX was still alive. Thank you!

FOUND! by nonny themself. It’s Unexpected Surprise by Glucose_Gremlin (E, 4k, wangxian)

SIMILAR! @mondelgel suggests my heart is kept as pure as ice in a jade vase/一片冰心在玉壶 by Daledesu (M, 21k, wangxian, WIP)

SIMILAR! from @impending-cuttlefish: something new, something white, something blue by ariskamalt (E, 140k, wangxian, WIP)

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14. I'm trying to find this one fic where Jin Ling finds this diary that Wei Ying wrote as the Yiling Patriarch that basically reveals everything, including the golden core reveal and it even has training tips that helps Jon Ling improve. When Wei Ying comes back, he tries everything to keep him there because he is THE best uncle now. I need to find it because it is a N E E D.

FOUND? by @theladypeartree who says, “The Truth (Untold) is jl reading jyl's journals, not wwx's though. And mordant is jl returning wwx's journals that he found, not grew up with. Neither fit #14 properly, but I seriously could not find anything closer after two solid days of searching. Good luck!“

The Truth (Untold) by anxiouswreck0_0 (g, 3k, wangxian, jin ling & wei wuxian)

or this one on ffn:

mordant by tennisnotensai (M, 18k, wangxian, here’s the link for mobile)

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15. I have heard tell of a Sizhui/Jingyi fic where the boys end up going to Wangxian for advice about how to be intimate. Can you help me find it?

FOUND! @manaika-chan says this one is On Advisement by LaMachina17 (M, 19k, wangxian, zhuiling, chengyi)

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16. nm

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17. Hi! Sorry, do you happen to know that nsfw fic where wwx is still studying in the cloud recesses and he’s reading a novel (im not sure if it was from nhs) that features a cultivator couple and there’s a scene in the book where the woman was pegging her husband? Basically wwx got curious about this and tried fingering himself. I remember he was hiding in the back mountains and then lwj eventually caught him

FOUND? Could you be thinking of Deep in the Woods by malkinmalkout (E, 5k, wangxian, my post)?

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18. Ahhh I'm going crazy trying to think of a fic that I've read where Lan Zhan killed Wen Chao in a locker room and nie huaisang stood guard outside the door! Then lan zhan went to lan huan and said I killed someone and he said did they deserve it? Then it's fine. And I can't remember the name of the fic! Have you heard of it? ~ @uchihaautumn

FOUND! @artemisisdiana offers So Full Of Love (Wouldn't Know Where to Start) by witchupbitch (M, 54k, wangxian, WIP)

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19. Hi, I was wondering if you could help me find a fic. I read it a while ago and I don't really remember all the details but it was a modern au where Lan Wangji was a police officer in this small town and Wei Wuxian comes back after years, having left the town due to some stuff. Thank you in advance.

Btw love your blog. I live for your fic recs. [Thank you!]

FOUND? Could you be looking for medium blues by dark_and_terrible (E,193k, wangxian)? It appears to be taken down atm, but it might come back (it’s done it before).

FOUND! by @grannyweatherwaxshat who offers When a Bird Flies, It Leaves Feathers by Bem_Kofi (not rated, 75k, wangxian)

~*~

20. Hi mojo!! First of all I luv your blog Thank you so much for all those ficrecs. [You’re welcome!] Actually I’m looking for a fic I read months ago. I probably found the fic from your blog. But I can’t seem to find it now 😢 it was a modern au wangxian fic (inspired by call me by ur name?) wwx was like 5 years older than lwj. (And lwj was like 16?) Wwx lives in another city but he spent around a year in cloud recesses with lwj in the past. And wwx yanli and jc visits cloud recesses again and wangxian gets 2gether

~*~

[My ko-fi.]

#wangxian fic finder #wangxian #mdzs fic finder #wangxian fic rec

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transthaumaturge · 4 years

Text

Squirrel Girl is Super Gay for her Roommate and I Want Everyone to Know

A gay infodump of sensible length by Rachel Tikvah

ALRIGHT, SO The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl was the very first comic that I ever read regularly, back when I was looking for more stories with strong female protagonists but didn't really know why. Back then I just thought I really liked strong female characters and not that I was being gay on main, but now I know the truth. The comic had a 5-year run, and it was the first time that Squirrel Girl, AKA Doreen Green, had had her own series. She had a brief run in the mid-2000's where she was established as someone who could beat up Thanos with her bare hands well, more like squirrel hands but was mostly a joke character that happened to be incredibly buff and had indestructible plot armor. USG decided that Doreen's next major life goal would be to enroll in college to become a computer scientist, because her writer, Ryan North, is really into computer science and they basically gave him free rein over Squirrel Girl canon for five whole years. Like, a solid third of the plots are solved with some kind of computer science smarts. It’s really cool. Anyway this is Doreen in one of the gayest solo pictures I could find of her on short notice, which is also one of the variant covers from the actual series:

And this is her college roommate, Nancy Whitehead:

I'm like, 99% certain that Ryan North intended for them to end up as a couple and Disney!Marvel told him no. So he decided to make them AS GAY FOR EACH OTHER AS POSSIBLE without explicitly saying that they were a couple, and it ended up going under the radar. What follows is evidence for that claim. I’m going to put a "read more” after this so it doesn’t clutter everyone’s dashboards, but please read on if you’re interested. There’s a lot of cute gayness after this point. I’m also going to put all of the image descriptions at the end, since they take up a lot of space and I don’t want to break up the flow of the post. Finally, a quick spoiler alert for one arc in the middle of the series and a couple major plot points from the final few issues.

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES

So for a while it was just kind of hinted at that they’re in a relationship, mostly because they were basically domestic life partners for like, two whole years in-universe before the comic run ended. But it really came to a head with an arc that was ran about 2/3 of the way through the series. Some pictures of them being, like, so cute together in general and/or talking about how much they care about each other before I get to that arc, though:

Also Doreen describes her and Nancy's cat as "co-parented" in one of the last issues:

ANYWAY, THE ARC. THE HYPERTIME ARC. So one of the villains created for the Squirrel Girl run (I think they liked making weird shit canon just because they could) was a dude who went by the name "EpicCrimez". He’s a crime streamer. He livestreams his crimes to an online audience. I don't know. *Throws up hands*

He had some kind of laser gun that he built out of scavenged alien tech but didn't really know what it did, so he shot it at Doreen and Nancy for kicks. It shot them into hypertime, so suddenly the rest of the world was moving at a fraction of the pace that they were. They were moving so quickly that they were slated to live out their entire lives over the span of a single weekend if they didn't figure out how to reverse the effects. And...they did. Live out their entire lives together. For the two of them, they were the only two people in the world. There were other people, but they looked like statues unless you spent a very long time observing them. Doreen and Nancy grew old together in a world where they only had each other. This is an incredibly cute domestic scene from a little while after they found themselves in hypertime:

Gosh, I wish I could find more official art from that arc of them just living together, it was so good. But the point is, they were both old by the time that Nancy figured out how to get them out of hypertime. And it wasn't ideal. Their bio signatures were stored in the gun that EpicCrimez shot, and they could essentially "reboot" their bodies from when they were first shot and send themselves back into the regular timestream. But they wouldn't remember anything about the life that they had shared together. Nancy almost didn't want to do it. She raised the possibility of them just living out the rest of their lives together, because she didn't want to forget their life together. This is the conversation they had:

"I don't regret any of it. I don't want to lose it, and I don't want to lose us." "You're not getting rid of me that easily." Every time I look at that last picture, which took up an entire page of the comic, I start to cry. We’re seeing the final moments of two people who love each other more than anything, who were each other's entire lives, savoring their last moments together and wondering what the future holds. Sacrificing the life that they built together so that their younger selves could live a better, fuller one. Dying in each other’s arms, scared but comforted by the fact that they had each other. And then the arc ends, and they can't remember anything, so the status quo is restored. They have some paintings they made of each other while they were living together in hypertime, but they move on pretty quickly without ever knowing the significance of those lived decades. Still, it's clear in the arcs that follow and the adventures they embarked on afterward that they would die for each other. All of that continues until the end of the last arc. Their shared apartment's been blown up at this point by a supervillain who wanted to ruin Doreen’s life before eventually killing her. And in the aftermath of the fight, they're sifting through the wreckage for anything that survived (don't worry, the cat got out in time) when they find the picture that they painted of themselves during the hypertime arc:

They have a really cute conversation about how this chapter of their life is over, but they're going to be okay and they're going to build a new life together. And then Nancy basically tells Doreen that she can't live without her:

And then Doreen says something super queer-coded about how she likes the idea of the world knowing her secret identity now:

On the very last page of the comic, after all of the action is over and the series is about to end, they're talking to each other in what's supposed to be a twitter thread and Doreen asks Nancy a very thinly veiled question about whether she still wants to spend time with her now that her identity's out. She pretends it's about a class project, but it's really not about the class project. Here's how that conversation goes:

With no knowledge of what happened during the weekend when they shared their entire lives together, without ever having heard Doreen say it to her before, Nancy’s heart still knows which words to choose. "...you're not getting rid of me that easily. <3" I believe that the author of the series, Ryan North, did as much as he possibly could to portray them as a couple without saying it outright. And as the last piece of evidence to support that claim, I want to share a response he wrote in one of the series' last-ever letter columns:

"as for more Doreen and Nancy, I hope so too. A Squirrel Girl book without Nancy would feel like--like--like some sort of hypothetical "Super" "Man" book without an equally hypothetical "Lois" "Lane"!" It's easy to write off this analysis as wishful thinking, or as a misreading of the subtext. But when the author of the series says that these two characters are meant to always be together and compares them to one of the most famous couples in any comic series ever, it's clear that there's more to it than that.

Some Additional Thoughts: 1) Doreen and Nancy are both probably bisexual or pansexual, since they both expressed romantic interest in men throughout the series but they’re both clearly interested in each other too. There might be an element of demiromanticism there as well if part of the reason that they’re into each other romantically is because of how emotionally close they’ve become over the years. I want to make sure that that facet of their romantic orientations doesn’t get erased, because bi and pan folks get erased enough as it is. Neither Doreen nor Nancy are lesbians, just super-cool WLWs.

2) HERE’S WHAT THE ISSUE 50 VARIANT COVER LOOKED LIKE

That’s NOT a fun, totally straight way to pose with your platonic gal pal. They’re so incredibly cute together! I have no words! In Closing If you got this far, thank you so much for letting me talk to you about a comic that’s very important to me, and a couple in that comic that I care about very much. I spent way too long making this (six hours and counting), mostly in writing the image descriptions, and I’m very proud of my work but very tired now. Hyperfixation is a hell of a drug. If this resonated with you, please consider reblogging it so that more folks can see it. If not, even a like is nice. I’d also love to engage with people who have their own thoughts, so feel free to leave some comments in the notes if you’ve got an idea/a reaction/any additional cute Doreen/Nancy scenes that you’d like to share with me. At any rate, this post has gone on long enough and I don’t want to ask y’all to read any more than you have to. So have a great day, good morning / afternoon / night, and stay safe. Thanks again for reading! ~Rachel Tikvah, AKA @transthaumaturge Image Descriptions: Image 1: [ID: Squirrel Girl, a young woman with light skin, is posing in front of a brick wall that she seems to have crashed through, leaving a perfect outline of her body. She’s facing away but looking backwards over her shoulder at us and smiling. She’s flexing upward with her right arm and has her left fist resting on her left hip. Her sidekick, a squirrel named Tippy-Toe, is standing in the cutout she left in the wall and is making the same exact pose while wearing a light pink bow around her neck. Squirrel Girl is wearing brown lace-up boots, fur-lined hot pants over grey tights, and a brown fur-lined jacket with sleeves that come up to her forearms and a symbol of an acorn embroidered into the back. She’s also wearing a hairband with fake squirrel ears on it over short reddish-brown hair. She has a large squirrel tail coming out of her hot pants that sweeps down in a curve behind her lower legs. The illustration is drawn so that everything is bathed in the light of a sunset, and Doreen is casting shadows on the wall in front of her.] Image 2: [ID: Two frames depicting a scene between Doreen and Nancy in their college dorm room, with many cardboard boxes still not unpacked and sitting on a bare bed mattress. Nancy Whitehead is a young woman with dark brown skin and short, curly black hair. She's wearing black tights, a white dress-top, and a yellow cardigan over that. Her arms are crossed as she holds her white cat, Mew, against her chest. Doreen is wearing grey tights and a black long-sleeve shirt with a wide collar and white stripes across the chest. She's holding Tippy-Toe up to Nancy with both hands so she can see her better. The following dialogue ensues: Nancy: "A squirrel? But weren't you the one who was all about pets not being allowed in--" Doreen: "Yeah, I know. But this really interesting person I met today told me that obeying an unjust law is itself unjust." Nancy: "...You know, I was worried I'd get a weird roommate, but you're all right, Doreen Green."] Image 3: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are both sitting on a lavender-pink couch in nightclothes. Doreen has short, orange hair. She is wearing a loose-fitting grey long-sleeve shirt and steel-blue cutoff shorts; Nancy has cropped black hair. She is wearing a dark purple top with sleeves that come down to her upper arms, and loose-fitting navy-blue shorts that come down to her lower thighs. Doreen is side-hugging Nancy as she says, with an ecstatically happy smile, “Nancy, you’re the greatest. You know that, right?” Nancy gives Doreen a full smile as she responds, “I’d always suspected it, but it is nice to have it confirmed.”] Image 4: [ID: Nancy is shown from the shoulders up. She has short, curly black hair. She’s wearing large, disc-shaped gold dangle earrings, and a red jacket with prominent shoulders and a yellow collar. She’s fixing the observer with an angry, determined stare as she says, “She knows this man wouldn’t dream about betraying her, or he’d have to answer to me.”] Image 5: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are eating breakfast at the brown, circular kitchen table in their apartment. Doreen’s wearing a skin-tight athletic crop top that’s striped in black, red, white, and blue. Her arm muscles are well-defined and clearly visible as she puts a spoon in her mouth, closing her eyes as she does so. She has a bowl of cereal in front of her, and half a banana in front of that. Nancy is sitting to her left in a pink camisole top that’s also exposing her muscles, scrolling through something on her smartphone. Her hair is in a yellow fabric wrap that’s knotted on one side of her head. A cup of coffee sits in front of her. The clear blue sky is visible through the window centered on the wall behind them.] Image 6: [ID: Nancy and Doreen are facing away from the vantage point, walking towards an Empire State University campus building and holding hands with their fingers intertwined. Nancy is wearing a long knee-length grey coat and black knee-high boots, with a baby-blue side bag hanging from her left shoulder. Doreen is wearing a magenta sweatshirt with the periwinkle-lined hood down, light brown form-fitting denim pants, and black ankle-high boots, with a dark brown side bag hanging from her right shoulder. Trees and bushes hem the walkway in on either side. The building in front of them is dark red, with glass doors and a row of floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor. Doreen is saying “...we’re just going to have to take the long way around.”] Image 7: [ID: Doreen is facing towards the vantage point and is visible from the legs up, standing in front of a pile of rubble in the background. She’s wearing high-waisted light blue shorts over black tights, and a red windbreaker with sleeves ending at her upper arms that’s opened to reveal a white t-shirt underneath. Tippy-Toe is sitting on her shoulder. There are two people facing Doreen, each slightly in frame and silhouetted in black against the light of the setting sun. Doreen is fixing them with an angry, determined expression, resting her right fist at her hip while she gesticulates with her left hand and says, “So! I don’t know about you all, but Melissa kidnapping my friend and blowing up my life and my house and almost blowing up my co-parented cat makes me feel like giving her a piece of my mind. Friends...”] Image 8: [ID: A full comic page. EpicCrimez is looking like a dork in a green and black skin-tight jumpsuit, bright red ski goggles, and a green wig cap with his brown hair sticking out the back in a mullet. He’s standing inside a jewelry store and holding up a fist of expensive gems and pearls-on-strings as holds up his smartphone and speaks into it. He’s facing off against Squirrel Girl, with her allies Koi Boi and Chipmunk Hunk on her right, and Nancy and Brain Drain on the left. The following scene ensues: EpicCrimez: “And for those of you just tuning in, welcome to another successful heist by your boy EpicCrimez, streaming live! Now with 10% more live crime action than any other streamer! Don’t forget to like and subscribe!! I know some of you in EpicCrimez Nation have been forgetting to do that lately. Not acceptable.” Squirrel Girl: “You picked the wrong small business to rob, crime-initiator! Because this mall is protected by super heroes.” Brain Drain: “HELLO” SG: “And also an unrelated civilian friend I brought along too!” Nancy: (Not looking up from her phone) “ ‘Sup.” EC: “Check it out--Squirrel Girl and her miscellaneous friends are here! It’s action you won’t find on any other channel!” SG: “Are you...streaming your robberies?” (Nancy pockets her phone) EC: “Yeah I am! For money reasons! And with you “heroes” in it, I’ll make even more!” SG: (Whispering to Nancy:) “Question: a fight scene just gets him more traffic, which lets him profit from this crime even more--so does this mean we don’t fight him?” N: (Whispering back:) “I feel like letting him go causes more harm, but I look forward to us teasing apart the moral implications of this later.” SG: “Nice.” SG: (No longer whispering:) “I’ll like and subscribe, EpicCrimez! I’ll like fighting crime, and subscribe... to a worldview wherein the strong protect the weak!” EC: “Oh my gosh, are you like wholesome Spider-Man or something??” At the bottom of the page, small text says: “Wholesome Spider-Man, Wholesome Spider-Man/Does whatever a wholesome spider can/Is he tough?/Listen bud/He’s here to hear you talk about your day and tell you it’ll all be fine while taking you out for your favorite meal for dinner because he knows you deserve it.”] Image 9: [ID: Another full comic page. Doreen and Nancy are in their apartment together, and their friends Tomas and Brian (AKA Chipmunk Hunk and Brain Drain respectively) are frozen as they look down at the machine that Nancy is on her knees in front of, working on. Nancy, barefoot, is wearing cerulean-blue athletic pants, a black long-sleeve spandex shirt without shoulders, and narrow-framed glasses. Her hair is partially covered by a yellow cloth head wrap tied on the left side, with black dreadlocks spilling out the side and back. The machine in front of her is made of dull grey metal, about a meter tall and roughly circular. Wires dangle out of a hatch that Nancy is fiddling with. Doreen is wearing a flowing, dark-purple pantsuit with wide, ankle-length legs and a halter top with the sleeves tied off at her shoulders. Her shoes are light-brown ankle boots with a horizontal gap on the bridge of each foot. Her wavy orange hair is parted in the middle and down past her shoulders. She looks incredibly cute. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “What do you think?” Nancy: “I think--come on you stupid screw--I think we’re still years away from this thing working, if it ever does. Who knew time machine construction is really hard, except of course for everyone who has attempted it?” (She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand) D: “Hah! No, I mean my new outfit.” N: (Looking up and checking her gf out:) “Doreen! You look amazing!!” D: “Liberated it from a very expensive department store uptown!” N: (Now standing) “Tony paid for it?” D: Tony will eventually discover he was kind enough to leave some expensive jewelry in trade, yes. I pinned a note to him so he knows.” N: “There really are advantages to being friends with billionaire playboy genius philanthropists.” D: “Right?!” N: (Taking Doreen’s hands in hers:) “It’s a shame we can’t take a picture of you all dolled up.” D: “Not without standing still for a few months, yeah. But I was thinking about that. I picked up something else at another store downtown. Thought maybe it could help us with that.” (Holding up a shopping bag with one hand while still holding onto Nancy’s hand with the other:) “Nancy Whitehead, I thought you and I might take up painting sometime.” At the bottom of the page, small text says: “Tony Stark moves from meeting to meeting, his body accumulating dozens of notes every second. He sighs. Stuff like this didn’t happen before he knew Doreen. But then he smiles, because after all...stuff like this didn’t happen before he knew Doreen.”] Images 10-16: [ID: Several pages worth of comic frames, posted together to depict one scene. Doreen and Nancy are now old women, likely in their seventies or eighties. Doreen has short, grey hair. She’s wearing a tan button-up waistcoat and an orange ascot, brown flats with an olive-green skirt, knee-length and softly pleated. Her tail is sticking out the back of her skirt over the top, bushy and brown but with stiffer, less-dense hair. Nancy has her grey-black hair done up in a ponytail, a mass of tight curls behind her head. She’s wearing thin oval glasses, black dress pants, black flats, and a lavender cardigan with a flower motif along the edges, open to show the yellow-orange top underneath. They’re standing in front of a completed time machine. On either side are tall pieces of machinery, and in the middle is a round, flat metal dais hooked up to everything else with snaking cables. The following scene ensues: Nancy: “So...this is it, babe. The new machine.” Doreen: “Your secret project! Nancy, it looks like you started from scratch!” N: That’s because I did. I finally realized our old machine was never going to work. Maybe if we had a few more decades, but...there’s no time. And given that our backs are to the wall, I took a risk. I disassembled the gun right down to the metal, and examined all the parts. And I did find something: a data chip. Doreen, the gun stored our bio signatures when it us.” D: “What are you saying?” N: “I’m saying my new machine won’t send us back in time, and we’ll still have lost a weekend of real time. But it will restore our bodies to normal time.” D: (Hugging Nancy tight:) “Nancy! You saved us!!” N: (Resting her hands on Doreen’s shoulders:) “Not--quite. There’s a catch, Doreen. Our bodies will make it...but we won’t. Look, Doreen...I’m an old woman. I’ve spent most of my life in hypertime. This wasn’t how I saw my life going, but...I don’t regret any of it. I don’t want to lose it, and I don’t want to lose us.” D: “I don’t understand.” N: “It’s like restoring from backup. Our bodies will be restored to how they were the moment we were first hit. But--that necessarily includes our brains, too. Everything we’ve done since we entered hypertime--our entire lives spent together...we’ll forget.” (She looks at Doreen in distress) D: “I don’t either, Nancy. You’ve been the most important person in my life. But if we do go back--we can do it again. All of it. It might not happen again quite the same way, but--well, like you say...we’ll have all the time in the world.” N: (Their faces inches apart, they both tilt their heads down and smile sadly:) “Twist my arm, why don’t you.” (They both step onto the dais holding hands, and blue energy starts to ripple around them:) “You filled up Spidey’s web-shooters before we go?” D: “Yep. Again.” N: “You and me, saving the world.” D: “Well,” (holding Nancy’s hand in both of her own) "No reason we can’t do it twice.” N: “You know, there’s a chance things could turn out differently, now that we’ll have video games to distract us. In 40 years we might decide we don’t like hanging out after all.” D: (Hugging Nancy even tighter than before as the energy from the time machine starts to envelop them, resting her face in the nape of Nancy’s neck:) “Nah. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”] Image 17: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are sifting through the charred rubble of their apartment as night starts to fall around them. Doreen is wearing faded blue jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with a Captain America star in the middle. Over top of the shirt, she’s wearing a dark reddish-brown leather vest with four metal studs at the four points of the folded-out collar. Nancy is wearing black tights and a light green long-sleeve shirt with olive-green sleeves. The front of the shirt has a picture of Cat-Thor, Cat God of Cat Thunder’s head on it. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “So I know we’re only a few hours into it, Nancy, but I think my identity being public isn’t gonna be as bad as I thought.” Nancy: “Oh?” D: “Yeah, Tony’s given me lots of tips, and it does honestly help to know that my parents are protected by a robot tree with laser eyes and my friends live in a city with the most super heroes per square mile.” N: “Most super villains too, but--Hold on. I think I found it.” (Nancy lifts a picture frame out of the wreckage, charred around the edges but otherwise no worse for wear. It has a painting inside of it of Doreen and Nancy, arm-in-arm, from hypertime. Doreen is wearing the lavender pantsuit from before, and Nancy is wearing a tight-fitting lilac dress.) “...And it looks like you and I made it through just fine.”] Images 18-19: [ID: Two later comic panels from the same scene. They’re wearing the same outfits, but Nancy’s now cradling her white cat, Mew, in the crook of her left arm while she holds onto the picture frame with her right hand. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “Come on, let’s talk about it! If we’re starting a new chapter in our lives, and we can decide what’s in it, what do you want it to contain?” Nancy: “Doreen...” D: “What are the three things you can’t live without, Nancy Whitehead?” N: (Holding up the picture so that Doreen can see it:) “Fine. If you must know, all this girl needs to be happy are cats and squirrels and knitting and computers and friends and secret tattoos and super heroes and lots and lots of love. Also food and shelter. And water. And internet.” D: “That’s more than three things.”] Image 20: [ID: Same scene as before, a single frame with a close-up on Doreen from her chest upwards. Doreen cups her chin with one of her hands and says, “Honestly--I thought about it. I really did. But I realized that where I am now, I’m safe and I’m loved and I kinda like the idea of not having to lie to people anymore, you know? Even if it is just a lie of omission. I want to share my whole self with the world. I don’t want to have to hide who I am anymore.”] Image 21: [ID: Something resembling a twitter thread, with dialogue between Nancy and Doreen stacked chronologically as horizontal boxes. Their respective names and handles are at the top of each of their comments. Nancy is Nancy W. and @sewwiththeflo, Doreen is Squirrel Girl and @unbeatablesg. The following conversation ensues: Nancy: “You think I’d leave you high and dry??” Doreen: “I think I don’t want our lateness harming your grades and therefore harming your post-secondary education or career choices and therefore harming your ENTIRE LIFE?!” “So yeah I think you should switch to someone else, real talk. I honestly don’t mind, I promise.” Nancy: “Please. If there’s one thing I know about you, about me, and about how we spend our future together, it’s this. Doreen Green...” “...you’re not getting rid of me that easily. <3″] Image 22: [ID: A paragraph of text, black text on a yellow background. “As for more Doreen and Nancy, I hope so too. A Squirrel Girl book without Nancy would feel like--like--like some sort of hypothetical “Super” “Man” book without an equally hypothetical “Lois” “Lane”!”] Image 23: [ID: A group picture of Squirrel Girl and friends sitting down on a grassy hill and watching the sunset together. Kraven the Hunter is in the foreground for some reason, looking almost directly at the camera. In the background we see Koi Boi, Mary Mahajan, Chipmunk Hunk, Brain Drain, and Mew the Cat. In the middle of the shot, Doreen and Nancy sit together. Doreen is in her superhero outfit with Tippy-Toe on her right shoulder, and Nancy is in a yellow cardigan and jeans on Doreen’s left. They’re holding hands, fingers intertwined, as Nancy leans against Doreen with her whole body. Their heads are tilted inward towards each other, the side of Doreen’s head touching the side of Nancy’s, as they look off into the distance together.]

#the unbeatable squirrel girl #squirrel girl x nancy #squancy #squirrel girl #nancy whitehead #queer comics #WLW comics #long post #described #squirrel girl spoilers #thaumaturgethoughts

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dallonm-archive · 3 years

Photo

[image description: three monstera leaves. The leaves and wall are tinted purple by string lights behind the plant. In the middle, in a white serif font and all caps, reads “LIFE CYCLE OF MASSIVE STARS”. At the bottom, in the same font but smaller, reads “update #1″ /end id]

LIFE CYCLE OF MASSIVE STARS | UPDATE #1

Before I start, this is an autistic OwnVoices novel and it’s Autism Acceptance Month! Remember that awareness is passive and acceptance is active. And whilst this book is autistic OwnVoices I want to stress that it doesn’t cover the full autistic experience; autism is so individualistic and this story only stems from my experience. Make sure you to listen to all autistics, not just those who can speak and live independently and present in a way that suits neurotypical society. Support autistic creatives and if you’re also a creative, include autistic characters in your work! Autism is not a disease. It does not need to be cured.

Hey y’all! This has sure been a week! I gave myself the goal of 15,000 words for Camp Nano and somehow hit that in 5 days? I have literally never written at that pace before so I’m a little shocked lol. I don’t intend to keep that pace but the momentum has made drafting very fun and? drafting this has been a literal dream. I was really worried because March was a month long slump I expected to carry into April. I want to disclaim that I’m currently out of school and work because of the pandemic so I have all the free time to write and that definitely contributed! But also as a neurodivergent and disabled writer, free time does not always equal writing, so to know that I am capable of writing like this, even if not always, it is Such a gamechanger. Also this story makes me miss University so much I actually can’t take it :(

LCOMS has been a dream so far because the protagonists are all characters I’ve had for 5-8 years, and | spent those years struggling to figure out their stories. Even when I settled on this story, originally Patchwork, there was like 4 versions of it before I landed on this - none ever drafted beyond a couple thousand words because they just Never Worked. But the wait was worth it because holy shit I feel like I struck gold. This story feels so me, it’s so much fun to write, and I don’t think a story has come to me this easy before. It’s given me such a zest for storytelling again that I didn’t realise was missing. I’m slowing things down now because creative boundaries and self care >>>>, but I just passed 19k words - though some of the chapters are very unfinished because my priority has been mapping out the story’s skeleton as far as I can, then filling in the gaps based off what I learnt. I wanna put a passage before the cut so it’s not just me rambling about bullshit and no content, but it’s hard to pick just one, so here’s a non-linear scene that I :) cannot elaborate on :)

(CW: alcohol)

[image description: the side of a ferris wheel against black sky. The wheel is lit white, but at the bottom it’s coloured a mix of pink, blue and green. At the top, in a white serif font, reads “The ferris wheel lights blur between turquoise, magenta, mint, lavender, casts the puddles into technicolour. “ /end id]

Picture this: December 17th. End of term. End of year. Cloudless night, stars winking. Fargate glows, market stalls lit by yellow fairy lights line the street like candle stubs, gently burning. It’s raining. It has all day. Dampened your new beanie and scarf but you’re not mad, even if you’ll cringe at the texture when you take them off later. The ferris wheel lights blur between turquoise, magenta, mint, lavender, casts the puddles into technicolour. Your eyes and feet ache, but you’re not mad. And the mulled wine that buzzed warm in your bloodstream now coils in your stomach, but you’re not mad. You’re queuing for the technicolour wheel, even though you know it’ll be underwhelming and a waste of £4, but you’re not mad. Chocolate is usually too sweet for you, but he bought a pack of snowflake shaped ones - each carved with their own design - and when he passes the paper bag over you don’t say no. They taste like raspberry. He grins at you.

I have once again written a long update because I am autistic and have no self control; more excerpts and chapter-by-chapter rambles are as usual under the cut!

(content warnings are specific to the respective excerpt, but as a general warning there’s a lot of alcohol mentions!)

Originally I wanted 3 parts for 3 semesters, but I might do 2? Especially because in the UK at least the spring and summer semester kinda blend into one. The chapters are grouped by 3 - one for every POV character - but that’s more to help with writing because I get more done if I break it down like that, but I also like how it’s shaped the story structurally.

Sometimes the three chapters will be each of the character’s POV on a single event, sometimes they’re more individual but still follow a general idea (for example, one of them is how each character’s first three weeks of the semester goes). As usual for me the plot here is ~non-existent, especially at this stage, but everything is still connected and threaded together and thats all we really need. The chapters are also pretty short at the moment, none of them are over 3k and only tackle 1-3 scenes. This is something I feel is working really nicely now but I’m not gonna commit to it for the entire novel. I like chapter length variety! But right now we are just going with the flow :)

The most unexpected part is this being in second person, which I decided impulsively the night before Nano because I have :) zero self control :). I was unsure if it’d work in Multi POV, but it’s created such a unique tone that I can’t imagine the story without anymore, even if it’ll need tweaking over drafts. I think it suits the story so well! I’m just torn about it being in past or present, so if you see tense jumps in the excerpts no you did not <3 I’m not naming chapters right now beyond the character’s name, but part one is titled Growing Pains.

[image description: photo of a city at night. To the left are skyscrapers with lots of lit up windows behind a chain-link fence. To the right is an unlit building. Near the middle is a bright streetlight. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “growing pains”. /end id]

1: Tomas

We start in the most overrated part of Uni, fresher’s week <3 The drinking and clubbing culture of UK university is a big part of this novel but in a way that’s like “hey this can be fun sometimes but sometimes it’s really not and it’s also really not for everyone.” Our three POVs go to a club night and really don’t care for it. Tomas does not want to be here, is in a weird as shit mood, and instead of looking for his friends he goes to the smoking area with a man he just met called Damiano. I really wanna rewrite this because I wrote it with Zero Idea of where the story was going, so here’s the one part of it that I consider salvageable <3

Damiano shoves his phone in your hands, brightness puncturing darkness. You hadn’t noticed the dimmed lights until then, but the room blued, music and time slowed. Though his notes are on dark mode, his phone brightness is on two fucking high. Your eyes sting. Cracks travel up the screen like veins.

Each character also has a specific image they keep seeing in things that are never actually there and they all make me like 🤠 hey besties what do these mean are you okay?? I Do Not know what they mean yet, but Tomas’ is veins. (Also shout out to me for finally settling on a spelling for his name after 5 years and by that I mean thank you to my friends for peer pressuring me into choosing Tomas lol)

My absolute favourite part of this story is the character voices. They are all SO fun to write, and I feel like I settled into a good combo of My Literary Prose Bullshit and they’re very specific, often very sarcastic voices. They also say fuck like, so many fucking times. RIP to me if I decide to query this <3

2: Kristen

Okay first off Kristen is THE funniest character I’ve written. He is SO fun. I wish I was his bestie but he’s also been my bestie since 2013. We meet him in the gender neutral bathrooms being annoyed by a very rich and very tone deaf girl. Classism and the UK class divide is one of the biggest themes of this novel, and Kristen is a very proud working class Northerner (the North is massively underfunded and unsupported by the Gov compared to the South) and cannot stand the Tories (Conservative Party). Extremely fucking valid of him

(CW: blood)

“I’m Floss. Florence.” Of course she was. Fucking Florence. “Where are you from?”

You don’t look at her. Eyes on your reflection, the glittered cheekbones. You busy yourself with your eyeliner, gliding the pen over gaps and smudges that don’t exist. “Barnsley, babe.” It’s only a half lie this time - if you tell her you were born in Liverpool she’d probably look at you like you’re a dead rat on the side of a dodgy alleyway. But maybe that’d be better because then she’d leave you the fuck alone.

“Oh! That’s like well close isn’t it. I’m from Reigate.” Her voice breathes trust fund and Waitrose, tries to speak like it doesn’t. You try not to laugh.

“Reigate! I bet your parents are right little Tories, aren’t they?”

She playfully slapped your shoulder. She thinks you’re friends. "Not every rich person is a Tory!” Don’t roll your eyes don’t roll your eyes don’t roll your eyes. “Is that blood on your hands?”

“Huh?” You look: faded red dye dried to your palm, blotted on your fingertips. It is dye, because your hair is as of four hours ago a fierce “Real Red”. But it could be blood. “No, it’s hair dye.”

If you think he’s being harsh, she literally calls him a slur like 3 lines after this <3 Fuck rich people half of this book is me clowning on them.

Kristen’s recurring Imagery is blood, except sometimes it’s less clear if it’s actually blood or not. Once again, besties are you okay ????

3: Junie

Junie my beloved <3 love her so much. She finds Kristen in the bathroom, and they agree to look for Tomas, until Tomas texts to say he already left. But the biggest part of this chapter is the absolute crisis she has over kissing for a girl for the first time to ABBA :)

(CW: alcohol)

[image description: a disco ball against a red-purple background. The disco ball casts dots of light against the across the ceiling. At the bottom, in a white serif font, reads: “Dancing Queen bounces against the walls. The disco ball casts specks over the ceiling, floor, walls, your skin, hair, eyes like broken glass.” /end id]

You don’t listen to 80s music, or 70s, but this room is smaller than the main floor, not claustrophobic, less freshers. Yet, even without the mask of a crowd, nobody notices the girl in the corner kissing the other girl. A girl you don’t know. You’d only gone up to her because she has purple hair and you had to tell her how much you love it - what dye is it? Professional or homemade? Did you have to bleach your hair? Professional or homemade? Will your hair fall out if you bleach it at home? If you dye your hair purple, do you become part of the Milky Way or part of Andromeda? She turns and sticks her tongue out to display her fresh tongue piercing, like a silver bullet lodged in flesh. “Dance with me, you look lost.” She has an allure to her, the Andromeda hair, the bullet in the tongue - do you want to pull it out with your teeth, or lodge it in your own skin? But she asks you to dance, and you fall into her orbit, if only for a few songs. Dancing Queen bounces against the walls. The disco ball casts specks over the ceiling, floor, walls, your skin, hair, eyes like broken glass. Her tongue in your mouth, yours in hers, bullet grazing against your lips. She tastes of vodka and cherries and metal.

I really, really feel for Junie. She’s recently out, and she’s only just navigating what it means to exist as a lesbian. She kisses a girl and immediately regrets it, because she’s a hopeless romantic and was hoping her first kiss with a girl wouldn’t be in the back of a club, but she also doesn’t regret it because it was a good kiss and they’ll never see each other again lol. Junie’s recurring imagery is glass and once again, besties are you okay

4: Junie

I don’t know how I feel about back to back POV chapters but that’s just how this set worked. The next 3 are immediately after the events of the first 3, after they’ve all left the club. Kristen and Junie walk home together, and most of this and his subsequent chapter is establishing relationship dynamics and <3 this story made me love writing dialogue y’all. This story has a lot of dark elements, so it’s really refreshing to be able to have the light-hearted moments as well. Like these characters are all going through it but they’re also Gen Z 20 year olds who grew up using humour to cope like what else are they meant to do

“We should’ve got that flat on Brunswick. It’s literally down the street from the SU - we’d just have to walk down a hill and then we’d be home.” He complains.

“Kristen, that flat had a rat problem. I saw one scurrying behind the oven.”

“Yeah, and we live with Tomas Meijer now, so what’s the difference?” He faces you, walks backwards, grin plastered on his face.

“That was mean.” You feign annoyance. You sound like a schoolteacher.

“It’s just how we are, you know. The love hate relationship. Like night and day or some shit. I’d kill for that boy but like, he’s still a rat. He’s the same to me - did he tell you he called me a malnourished ferret once in first year? In English and Dutch. Don’t even remember what it is in Dutch but he really came at me with two knives like that.”

Kristen and Junie don’t really know each other well - Junie is Tomas’ friend from class and Kristen and Tomas met in dorms, and a series of shitty housemates in second year brought them all together. It’s funny because I really worried Junie would end up with no clear place in the group and more like a third wheel to Kristen and Tomas but as I started writing I realised that her and Kristen are gonna become besties like. Instantaneously. Love this for them <3

5: Kristen

Essentially mirrors the last chapter. Him and Junie arrive home and have a heart to heart in the living room about gender <3 I love this for them <3

6: Tomas

Tomas goes home with Damiano and they hook up, which is very out of character for Tomas so it’s like his I Am So Random. I Can’t Believe I Just Did That moment. Damiano is a really sweet dude though it’s all good, but he’s here to stay and I can just tell it’s gonna get messy :/ I actually really love how this chapter came out but whilst I have no problem with reading or writing non-explicit sex scenes I’m also like a would rather die than put that on tumblr dot com oops

7: Kristen

we’ve skipped a week ahead to the day before semester starts, and the next three chapters are basically like a character study of where each of them are mentally. It’s not the best :/ This is also the point where Day 1 Of Camp me had literally no idea what I was doing. LCOMS is different from the way I pants Revelations, Revelations because with the latter I find it much easier to brainstorm scenes in my head but with this one, it really is a surprise until I open the doc. It’s created some really interesting moments though.

Kristen visits an amateur photographer friend named Kasia to model for her. I struggled to find anything that included info I’m fine with sharing, but I learnt a LOT about Kristen and his mental state, which was surprising since he’s lived in my head rent free for 8 years now. It’s messy <3 The summary: he sees himself as a mannequin, and he decides that he likes it that way, but he also doesn’t know who’s moving his joints into poses. Bestie???

8: Junie

Junie unpacks her room a week after moving in. Autistic queen <3 This is one of the unfinished chapters, and I have zero motivation to finish it because there’s a scene missing and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it is. The gist of it though is she FaceTimes a friend from secondary school that definitely was her gay awakening that she only realised was her gay awakening in the last year. Messy <3

9: Tomas

One of my favourite chapters. It’s split into two halves, a light-hearted moment of all three housemates at a superstore because <3 grocery store scenes my beloved <3 and then Tomas’ Everything Is Bad exploration at the end. There’s a moment in the first half where Tomas and Kristen have a heart to heart in the candle aisle, and Tomas asks Kristen where he thinks they’ll be in their thirties. I winged this in a sprint and I’m obsessed with it, it’s all about the ~dynamic~

“Well, he has student debt for one. But that’s not on him. That’s on the Tories. But I like to think they’ll be out of power by then. Boris might even be dead, if we’re lucky. But again, not on me.” He’s quiet again. You watch him think. “He’d be a music teacher probably, or an English teacher. But like, a cool one. He doesn’t teach secondary school because he doesn’t hate himself. Maybe a Sixth Form, or even better a Uni. His students would love him because he’d be able to take a joke and also like, not hound on them for having mental illnesses or life struggles?” Neither of you look at the aisles anymore, just circle the home section of Big Tesco. “He’d also do a lot of charity work. He has a foundation-charity-thing for queer and autistic kids to get accessible music lessons, because creative therapy is like, the best thing - besides Prozac but I digress - and it’d be better than the old white men from CAMHs who act like you don’t exist by your eighteenth birthday. And he’d have a cool little flat in Sheffield where the landlord lets him paint the walls so every room is a different colour. Turquoise kitchen. Magenta Living room. Lavender bedroom. Mint bathroom.” He looks at you like he forgot you were there. “You really let me ramble like that in the middle of Big Tesco, huh? That felt like a fucking therapy moment.” He laughs a little, like he’s nervous.

“Nah, it was a good answer. Maybe if Tomas-in-his-thirties doesn’t move back to the Netherlands, he’ll rent the apartment next to Kristen-in-his-thirties.”

Kristen pouts. “Aw, you don’t wanna be my roomie anymore?”

“No, you called me an animal for eating pineapple on pizza.”

“Deserved. And you called me a malnourished ferret.”

You smile. “You’re not gonna let that down, are you?”

He smiles. “Of course not.”

Kristen tells Tomas he knows Something Happened to him over summer, and gets him to promise to tell him when he’s ready. The second half of the chapter takes place back at the house. Tomas is grieving, and it’s starting to creep into all elements of his thought. In this one specifically, he’s reminded of his top surgery and his memories in the hospital for that starts to blend with his memory of being in the hospital to grieve. Tomas is interesting as trans rep because like, he is trans rep curated for me specifically <3 Tomas was a huge comfort character for me when I was younger and when I realised I was trans, I looked at him and was like oh. He had a very smooth coming out and transitioning process (bc mine is the opposite and I need to project :) ), but right now he views his transness as like, a chapter of his life that was important but is now closed, so he doesn’t think about it a lot anymore, but the combo of grief and its mental impacts causes him to think about it more and he realises he has a very unhealthy internal relationship with his transness. Whilst the big idea at the start of Tomas’ arc is to show trans peace, I really wanted to take a moment to acknowledge the grieving process that comes with being trans. Literally the moment that made me realise “oh god, this is real and I can’t ignore it” was googling “im scared i might be trans” and realising how normal those tangled feelings are. Tomas’ experience of it is only fleeting, but I wanted to show that it’s normal. That being said, there’s no transphobia in this story. It is ultimately a Trans Peace story but also a trans story that, for me at least, is realistic. And the thoughts don’t last long, because his mind circles back to the grieving process.

(CW: graphic surgery and hospital imagery, vomit mention, death)

[image description: a darkened picture of an empty hospital room. The only light comes in through the window through thin white curtains. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “ Scalpel gliding across the chest; were the cuts they made as thin as the line between surgery and autopsy? “ /end id]

Picture this: The hospital room. Clinical lights like exit wounds in the ceiling. Everything hurts. Haven’t slept properly in weeks. Can barely eat without it coiling and tangling in your stomach only for nothing to come up when you heave over the toilet. Messy hair, sunken eye bags. Dull eyes. The hospital room. The hospital halls. The hospital waiting room. The hospital car park. The drive to the hospital. The sleepless night before the hospital visit. The locked in the armchair next to the phone waiting for the hospital to call. The silence shrills harsher than the phone’s ring. But ask yourself this: who’s in the bed? You or him? The memories are different but the same. Oil and water. Shouldn’t be mixed. But it’s hard not to. Picture the two of you on the operating table and on the metal slab. Too far from reality to feel skin slice. Scalpel gliding across the chest; were the cuts they made as thin as the line between surgery and autopsy?

There’s a lot of paragraphs in the story that start with Picture This:. I have no idea what it means, it just reads cool lmao

10: Junie

we skip around 3 weeks now to see how the kids are dealing with the start of semester and well. They’re managing! Junie actually has a good chapter here, because she experiences Baby’s First Queer Class Crush

[image description: a purple sunset with a large pink cloud. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads you notice her background is of a purple sunset. You wonder if purple is her favourite colour like you and if she took it and if she likes photography and if she’d take photos of you “ /end id]

You listen, touch type your notes without properly processing the words yet, but instead of studying the PowerPoint, you study her: how she tucks a strand of black hair - free from her messy bun - behind her ear. The three studs in her earlobe, three little gold stars. The way her eyebrows furrow when she’s confused, and the way her face relaxes when she figures it out. How she touch types like you, how her two brass bracelets jangle and how you’re the only one that hears it. She minimises Word briefly, and you notice her background is of a purple sunset. You wonder if purple is her favourite colour like you and if she took it and if she likes photography and if she’d take photos of you. Lavender polo shirt, lavender perfume. She doesn’t wear make-up, but a tiny black heart sits under left eye.

Junie’s dreams of a photographer girlfriend are quickly shattered when she admits the photo’s from Pinterest, but otherwise this is so <3 the sapphic crisis of it all.

You walk out together, and she tells you she only got into Sheffield that weekend, and it was a nightmare to explain to the tutors why. “It’s like, they forget we have lives sometimes. Lives we can’t control.” She shakes her head. “It’s okay now though, I’m here now.”

You almost trip on the stairs up to the main floor, and her hand is warm against your wrist. Your cheeks redden, but she just asks if you’re okay, smiles when you are. Tells you she’s late for a seminar, but it was lovely to meet you. Thanks again for the lecture notes. Calls you a lifesaver. Fades into the between-classes rush. You’re glad she’s here now.

again she is so <3 i get it babes i get it <3

In other news, at the end of the chapter Kristen drops the most relatable line of the entire fucking book:

“You know how like, when it rains, all the worms come out and do a funky little dance? Yeah so basically: the rain is LIT3001 right. And the worms are all of my mental illnesses.”

11: Tomas

Tomas turns 21 on October 13th so naturally like anyone in his early 20s he has multiple crisis’ about it. I still haven’t figured this chapter ~out yet but it sure exists! It just sucks the same way it sucks to be a young adult in the late 2010s. But here’s Kristen being the most relatable character in the book again and getting bullied for it :/

(CW: alcohol)

"I still can't believe you both do a science. Like, it actually baffles me - I could not be more further from that." Kristen refills his glass, measures the vodka level with his index. "Just a babe and his silly little BA against the world."

"You know if you wanna be a BA babe you have to actually, like, graduate."

12: Kristen

Kristen is personally like I will pretend my degree does not exist and honestly? I get it King. He visits his Dad, since he only lives 30 minutes away, but most of the chapter is him thinking about Tomas and their messy friendship and the fact that Tomas is kinda ghosting him despite literally living together :/ Anyway here’s Kristen’s cat :)

Mar snoozes on your pillow, half curled like a croissant. Orange fluff against grey sheets, and you’re not mad at the fur debris she’ll inevitably leave. Her head pops up when you sit next to her, “you forget about me yet?”. You scratch her head and it’s like you’re 12 again and you don’t have to worry about rent or degrees or masters applications or careers or groceries or housemates and you haze through Sundays snoozing in bed with your new kitten. Technically she was a birthday present, but dad couldn’t wait an extra month to adopt her. Said he saw it in her eyes at the shelter, that she belonged here. You named her Marmalade because you were a dumbass eleven year old and also thought marmalade was the shit back then. She stretches her legs and yawns. Plops her head back down, back to sleep. “Yeah, me too.”

13: Tomas

The next three chapters centre around each character’s Halloween, because <3 Halloween my beloved <3. Tomas’ starts off with him and Kristen being ~homoerotic and him being a ~disaster about it.

w[image description: a photo of a blue planet - Neptune - against a black background. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “You don’t know which palette he’s using, but you remember his favourite is space themed: Mars red, Neptune blue, Jupiter orange - you try to guess which planet he thinks looks best against olive. He taps the brush against the palette. Imagine the planets. How they dandelion in the air.” /end id]

When you sit in front of him, your knees press together. When he tilts your head up, thumb on chin, nail grazing the curve of your lip, his hand is ice on your skin. He studies your face, you close your eyes. When he pulls back, you swear you still feel his thumbprint on your skin. You don’t know which palette he’s using, but you remember his favourite is space themed: Mars red, Neptune blue, Jupiter orange - you try to guess which planet he thinks looks best against olive. He taps the brush against the palette. Imagine the planets. How they dandelion in the air. He holds your head in place, hand sprawls over you cheek like veins. Brushes colour into your eye socket. Underneath the radiator, your phone buzzes twice. Don’t say anything. Ignore your heartbeat.

(before this Tomas threw his phone at the radiator because someone texted him :) yeah okay mood :) )

this story is really about the ~gay disasters and also the ~dialogue

You flop onto your bed, arms crossed over your face. “I dunno. I might just print off all the emails Uni's sent me about my dissertation. Staple them to a jacket and tell people I'm going as mental illness."

"Tomas, if you want to go as mental illness then you don't need a costume at all."

Unfortunately the rest of the chapter is not as fun because plot had to happen but this first scene was :)

14: Junie

Junie is not a fan of Halloween so she gives up halfway through the night and invites the girl she met in her lecture over to bake cookies at 1am instead. Fellas is this gay?

(CW: alcohol)

The girl in the kitchen brought cookie cutters in pink Tupperware. She explains she’s had them since she was eight, but she hasn’t had a chance to use them this Autumn. She has seven: cat, butterfly, crescent moon, heart, three stars matryoshka’d together. “I have more, these are just my go to ones. I’m a bit of a collector.” She lines them up on the counter, you trace the outline of the cat. She says she didn’t want to bring too many, but she likes having the options with no plan, the potential. You want to tell her that, after you invited her over, you spritzed the counters with lavender surface cleaner twice and tucked the discarded vodka and raspberry liqueur bottles in the cabinet you can barely reach. You piled unfolded laundry into your closet and hid drooping plants behind your closed curtains when you had zero intention of her inviting her to your room. You want to ask her why she said yes, why she replied in two minutes at one in the morning, and you want to ask her why people feel the need to cookie cutter themselves into a false potential. She asks if you want to bake with coconut or chocolate chip.

she is actually such a disaster around girls i love her so much

The girl in your kitchen clears up glass that isn’t hers. You drop the measuring jug and it fireworks against tile. No shards lodge in your skin. Whilst she cleans, insists that it’s okay, you brew peppermint tea because you insist it’s the least you can do. The girl tells you a story about how she did the exact same thing, when she was nine, and her mother shrieked so loud the neighbours banged at the door a minute later. She laughs, muted. You apologise again. She insists it’s okay again. Rain hardens against the window, looks like TV static. You breathe in the peppermint steam.

The biggest thing I’ve learnt since drafting is that, at it’s core, this is a love story. And that makes me so excited because so many people, especially in mainstream media, still think that autistic people are incapable of love - or even worse, undeserving.

15: Kristen

Kristen’s favourite holiday is Halloween so naturally on his special day I had to make him go through it :) I can’t share a lot of this, but it feels right to end this beast of an update on this beast of an excerpt because it came to me out of absolutely nowhere and it is one of my favourite passages I’ve ever written OOPS

(CW: death, parental death)

[image description: a cluster of stars against a dark blue, almost black sky. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “You want to ask your dad how something can end if for you it never began, but he’s asleep in his armchair back home. You look at the stars. You wonder if any of them are her.“ /end id]

You’ve mapped Sheffield’s streets since 13 so you know you’re walking the wrong way. This isn’t the way to Crookes. This isn’t the way out the city centre. You should order an Uber. You keep walking. You stop at a crossing. There’s no cars. You don’t cross. The traffic light flashes red and bleeds on your face. The stars are out tonight, and now it’s 2004 and you’re in the lounge with Lion King in the VHS. You’re off sick and your neighbour - Mel, recently retired, recently widowed - nurses a glass of brandy in your dad’s armchair because you don’t know it yet, but he can’t afford to miss work. You’re sprawled on the dusty-red rug when Simba and Mufasa sprawl in the grass and Mufasa tells Simba that all the stars are the Kings of the past and they are watching over him. You ask recently retired, recently widowed Mel if that’s true; her smile is happy but her eyes are sad and she says “yes, and not just Kings. Nobody leaves Earth, they just move to the stars.”

Ten minutes later, Mufasa is flung off a gorge’s edge; you haven’t studied storytelling yet, but you understand those two moments are connected. And when you relay this to dad over ready made pasta that evening, you ask him if people really live in the stars: Sometimes, when they can’t live here anymore. Then you ask if they can come back from the stars: No, but people remember them. They’ll tell stories about them, so people don’t forget. Then you ask if memories and stories are like stars: A little. Then you ask why they can’t live here anymore: It’s hard to explain, Kris.

After dinner, he lets you play on the plastic slide in the garden as he scrubs the dishes. You climb to the top and try to see faces in the stars, but it’s too cloudy. And after that but before bedtime, you’re sprawled on the dusty-red rug again, and Lion King is in the VHS again, and as Simba and Nala are bathed by their mothers again, your five year old mind connects what’s different about you. You go to ask dad about it, but he’s asleep in his armchair. It’s 2018, you’re stood on a phantom street in Sheffield. You want to ask your dad how something can end if for you it never began, but he’s asleep in his armchair back home. You look at the stars. You wonder if any of them are her.

And I usually don’t do this, but I think the playlist for this wip is absolutely fucking elite, so here’s a handful of the songs that I think encapsulate the story the best:

The Wombats – Greek Tragedy

Duncan Laurence – Arcade

FKA Twigs – Two Weeks

Peach Pit – Alrighty Aphrodite

Khalid – Saturday Nights

Alfie Templeman – Stop Thinking (About Me)

Rina Sawayama – 10-20-40

If you read this far, then I love you and we shall have a platonic wedding this summer. But I cannot express how excited I am about this story and to see where it goes!

#atlastracking #LCOMS #writing update #amwriting #seriously though i have had the best week but also my brain? a fried egg #sfoidhfsdf even before the cut this post is long i hate it here #long post

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foxstride · 2 years

Text

A bit of a year in review for how my fics performed on AO3 in 2021!

(On mobile so not doing ID but I will be repeating all the information in the post below)

2021 was when Into The Wilderness began but AO3 statistics has not included it, so these are all my one-shots really.

Main statistics

11 user subscriptions

137 kudos

13 comment threads (♥️)

21 bookmarks

2 subscriptions (to fics)

15426 words written

1024 hits

These are purely for fics/one-shots I posted in 2021, and thankfully they're also all relevant to Warrior Cats since I don't post fics in other fandoms now.

My top 5 fics by hits are:

every claw finds its way to a heart (Sandstorm & Longtail)

fire in my lungs, can't bite the devil on my tongue, oh no (Bluefur & Sunfall)

let us never look down on one another (Skyheart POV)

the stars could have mourned (Stonefur POV)

darkness tastes like honey (Redtail/Tigerclaw)

Not included are: drowning in choices (Yellowfang POV) & with stars in your paws and peace in your heart (Mosspaw POV)

Other statistics

My longest fic in 2021 was fire in my lungs at 4425 words

fire in my lungs and darkness tastes like honey both had 1 subscriber

every claw finds its way to a heart was bookmarked 7 times

4 comment threads were made on the stars could have mourned

42 kudos was given to every claw finds its way to a heart

Commentary

I think every claw finds its way to a heart is the fic that was rec'd the most (by @mallowstep lmao, thank you for that) which definitely lines up with those stats.

I'm curious what my most used tags were but typing this on mobile is infuriating me so I'll check that out later.

I'm the most proud of every claw finds its way to a heart; darkness tastes like honey; and fire in my lungs, can't bite the devil on my tongue, oh no. But I think let us never look down on one another is my most underrated fic? But I also feel strongly about it because it's my first real POV of a disabled character.

Also I can tell this without looking it up but Blackclaw made the most appearances in my fics. He's in at least 3, with two major roles and one cameo.

2022 goals

I have one major fic that's already written and is an Into The Wilderness tie-in so can't be posted yet which I'm REALLY excited to post and see what people think. It's a two-parter which I'll post as two chapters, because each part is the same scene from two different POVs.

I want to continue writing content for rarepairs. I have a few in mind but no solid ideas just yet.

Most of my writing is for Into The Wilderness so most one-shots are tie-ins in some manner, but I do tag when I do Canon-Compliant fics that are also tie-ins. There will probably be less Canon-Compliant scenes the further we get into posting @embersoftheforest content.

One character I really want to write the POV of this year is Bristleblink, who is a semi-OC in WindClan.

I want to write more polyamorous and disabled representation as well - I'm not sure if Skyheart will get another fic but I do plan on a Cinderfur fic eventually.

I haven't actually written any WindClan POVs so that's a must. Gotta add to the WindClan appreciation collection ;)

My other goal is to really try and push the disabled representation collection - whether it means getting more people writing for it or adding prompts. Which hopefully I can fulfill a bit too.

Recs

Finally! These are some of my recs from 2021 that I really, really recommend you read. These are ones I read in 2021, as opposed to were posted in 2021.

blood and water (Feathertail/Hawkfrost)

prayers to medea (Leopardfur/Tigerclaw)

the world might cut you down again (Fireheart & Longtail)

denouncement (Leopardfur/Tigerclaw)

Tigerstar's forfeit (Tigerclaw)

... and a lot more, but these ones I bookmarked specifically to rec them last year. I also recommend every work posted to the disabled warrior cats representation collection!

That's all for now - I'll try to remember to check what tags I used the most later, but it's not As fun as looking at these statistics.

#ao3 #wc fanfiction #what the fox says #warrior cats fanfiction #fic recs #ao3 stats

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revasserium · 4 years

Note

Can I have 34 with Sugawara? thank you

hq!!reqs temporarily: closed ; all other reqs: open

send me a number a character and i’ll write you a drabble ;

34. insomnia: the owner’s instructions suga ; 1,659 words

a/n: suga, the type of stay up at night bc of an existential crisis.

the truth is – everything ends. it’s one of those fundamental, incontestable truths, a silver thread in the very fabric of reality, a cornerstone fact upon which the world was built, precarious and everlasting: everything ends. everything. and maybe it’s pointless to let the encroaching shadow of existential dread keep him up at night, but sugawara koushi is just that kind of person. he lies awake thinking about the probable heat death of the universe, and the fact that try as he might, nothing he does, nothing truly, really, actually means anything.

he flips onto his side, sighs, tugs his phone from beneath his pillow and flicks open the screen. the time glares at him – a jarring 4:33am. he groans and buries his face in his pillow.

shit.

and he has morning practice tomorrow.

double shit.

he peers at this phone again. 4:34am.

he opens up his messages and scrolls through his history with you, grinning at all the stupid memes you send each other. his eyes pause on your last message to him – night, love you. sleep tight.

he’d responded in kind, except exclusively with emojis that perhaps trailed into the questionable territory of being suggestive. but i mean. eggplants are perfectly innocent vegetables, aren’t they?

his fingers hover over the keys.

why the fuck not. she’s probably asleep anyway.

can’t sleep. miss you. wish u were here.

he hits send, and almost closes out the app when the signature three dots appear at the bottom of his scene and he freezes. why the hell are you awake?

it seems that you shared his sentiments rather exactly, as your message appears with a little bloop.

why the hell are you awake?

he crinkles his nose, fingers already flying.

said i couldn’t sleep. :( u never read my texts properly.

a moment later, his phone buzzes and he sees your caller id flare up over his screen. he grins, tapping the green answer button.

“i do too read your messages.”

he laughs, the sound just a tad strange in the echo of darkness.

“fine, fine, yeah you do. i was just teasing.”

“when are you not.”

“fair.”

quiet. the moonlight bleeds slivers between his curtains, the light slicing his room into bits – he raises a hand, staring at his bisected palm with a light frown.

“are you thinking about the end of the world again?”

your voice startles him, even across the line, he can hear the way you must be raising your eyebrows, that teasing smile he loves so much twisting your lips. you sound exasperated. and rightly so. he’s exasperated with himself too.

“may…be?”

“hm. figured.”

he lets his hand fall back onto the bed, rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

“what do you think happens after we all die?”

he hears you shift in your bed as well, and a moment later, you sigh.

“the universe world keeps on spinning. nothing much changes.”

“right, but like… isn’t it weird to think that all this has existed before us, and it’ll continue to exist after? like. what are we, even?”

you laugh, the sound making his stomach flutter.

“cosmic fallout.”

“wow,” suga rolls his eyes before remembering you can’t see him. though he’s sure you can hear it in his voice. you’ve known each other for way too long. longer than he cares to try and remember. maybe that’s what it’s like to not worry – to trust something enough not to question it. to not have to question it.

“that’s not depressing at all.”

you hum, “well. it is. but it’s not like anything we can do will change that. so why lose sleep over it? it’s got no sway on how your life will be.”

“right, but it’s just… strange – isn’t it? like. how did we even end up here? with like… phones and computers and internet and – and relationships.”

you’re laughing again, and he closes his eyes. one of these days, he thinks he’ll tape it, the way you laugh, and maybe loop it so it can be the backing track to his entire existence. maybe that’ll give it some meaning, at least –

he wishes you were there. so he curls up onto his side again and cradles the phone to his ear.

“i miss you.”

“i know. i miss you too.”

“you should come over.”

“koushi. it’s 4am.”

“almost 5.”

“has anyone told you you’re terrible at convincing people to do things?”

and this time, he laughs, lets the sound shake through him like the first ray of daylight on a rising sun – warm and sharp and hopeful.

“once or twice.”

another silence. suga thinks he can almost hear the sound of the world turning, it’s so quiet. and then, your voice cuts through the invariable darkness.

“by accident.”

“huh?” he blinks, unsure of if the line cut off.

“that’s how we all ended up here, a massive, cosmic series of accidents. everything happened just so, all the stars that have ever lived or died – they all did it in just the way they had to for us to somehow end up here, and be able to hold hands and stay up late at night worrying about death and the end of all time.”

“one hell of an accident,” suga mumbles, crinkling his nose. a wave of tiredness washes over him. he wants to tell you to keep on talking. maybe he’ll record that too, just you talking about something, anything, everything. maybe that’s the cure to insomnia – just you and your voice, lulling him to sleep every night.

he wonders if that’s weird, and decides that well, he’s your boyfriend, he can be a little bit weird with this kinda stuff.

“still, pretty amazing right? all that happened so you could accidentally confess to me during homeroom.”

suga squawks.

“will you cease and desist? god – you’re just as bad as daichi and noya! they made fun of me for months – months! can you believe it? my own fucking teammates.”

your laughter washes over him, soothing his fraying nerves even as he huffs and tries to be angry with you. but it’s impossible – it’s been impossible for a long while now, and he wonders why he still tries.

maybe it’s because he’s so in love.

“but – whatever happens after we’re all gone,” you say, your voice soft and steady and full of a tenderness so striking it makes his chest squeeze, “at least we had this while we were here, right? at least by some strange conspiracy of the universe, we met each other. and – and fell in love. and… it doesn’t really matter if it doesn’t last forever. cause i’ll remember it happened. and you will too.”

you take a breath that sounds like the meeting of truth and tragedy, or perhaps the two finding out that they were always one and the same.

suga holds his own breath, forgets for a moment that he even has lungs.

“and… i think that’s enough. for me.”

he lets the breath go, his body curling into itself as he lets his eyes fall shut, his heartbeat thrumming to the sound of your breaths.

“wow,” he says again. though, it carries none of its former irony.

and, after a beat.

“you’re a sap.”

and this time, you’re the one sighing.

“i’m hanging up.”

“wait! not yet – c’mon, you know i didn’t mean it.” he’s laughing again. he does that a lot with you.

“fine, but only until you fall asleep.”

he smiles, a pleasant warmth already spreading through his limbs, making heavy his eyelids.

“i’m already getting sleepy.”

“good.”

quiet, once more. the moonlight falling across his room seems to spell out eternity, and it’s moments like this when suga wonders what it’d be like to live forever. not in the sense that he wants to live for a million years, but that he’d like to live in this moment for long than – well, this moment lasts.

he wants to stretch out the seconds like taffy between his fingers, relish in the sound of your voice, your laughter, in the smell of your hair after you’ve just washed it, the way you kiss him, on the lips, on the cheek, over his eyelids till they see in nothing but daydreams.

“hey,” he says, whispers into the phone like a secret.

“hm?” your voice answers back.

“i think i love you.”

you pause, and for a moment, just a moment, he thinks he can taste that unattainable forever. he wants to live inside that moment. for as long as he can.

“i think i love you too.”

and, even though they’re words you often say to each other, repeated so many times they might lose their meaning – there’s something about the time – the hours caught between morning and night, something about the foreverness of those precious few moments, that makes those words – that specific sequence of letters and sounds, mean so much more than they usually do.

suga realizes that this is also truth – a kind that he’s always neglected to think about. the truth of beginnings, and middles, and the eternities that live passed the endings.

because there are certain forevers that live outside the realm of time and space, forevers that are contained within their own special fragments of realities – his and yours, for instance.

and just for now, for this one moment – love is not an ever-ending thing.

and the truth is, no matter how dark and dreary the eventual end of the world might be, at least he had this. at least he met you. and at least, he’s known the taste of falling in love. and that’s something.

isn’t it?

–

taglist: @thewaterlily @dorkyama @undertheseabass @miyulovestowrite @writing-in-monotone @lceiji @vventure @writeiolite

(pls let me know if you’d like to be added to the list! or if you’d like to be removed! u__u)

#haikyuuwritersnet #sugawara koushi #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara x reader #haikyuu scenarios #floofy floof floof #haicuties #suga inspires a lot of very interesting writing for me #i just think he's such an interesting character #and my obvious bias is showing again oof #anyway its my first time doing a taglist! lmao idk if im doing it right but!#i think about this alot too but its not like existential DREAd to me #i think about it like -- well if nothing means anything might as well do what u want and live ur best life anyway #if none of it matters then YOU get to decide what matters and thats a vERY great power to have

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greenhorn-art · 3 months

Text

to catch a sunbeam with white moonlight

Author: orphan_account [this work has been orphaned and is no longer associated with it's author]

Fandom: 全职高手 | The King's Avatar

Rating: General Audiences

Category: F/M, Gen, M/M

Words: 55,720

At a Glory convention, Dai Yanqi meets Ye Xiu who is helping Su Mucheng buy her favorite doujinshi. They surprisingly hit it off as they browse through all the doujinshi about their peers and talk about Glory.

About the book

FONTS: EB Garamond (body text, title), Roboto (body text - electronic), Bebas Neue (title, headings), Alfie (title), Segoe UI Symbol (scene breaks - 'gear without hub')

IMAGES: Sunflower (Rawpixel, ID: 2687359), lightning (Rawpixel, ID:10200699)

MATERIALS: Domtar Earthchoice (textblock - 20lb, cream, 11x17 cut down to 8.5x11), Recollections paper pad (endpapers - Dark Watercolor Florals), Iris bookcloth (covers - Eggplant), Verona bookcloth (covers - Hot Toffee), Ribbon (covers - 1/4", shell grey), embroidery floss (endbands - 209 Very Dark Lavender), leather cording (endbands - 1.4mm), Ceramcoat acrylic paint (painted edges - metallic silver), Anita's acrylic paint (painted edges - 11038 Purple), Reeves acrylic paint (painted edges - Violet & Crimson & Blue Lake, Payne's Gray), waxed linen thread (sewing textblock - 30/3, white), Books by Hand (glue - pH neutral PVA)

PROGRAMS USED: Affinity Publisher (typesetting), Affinity Designer and Affinity Photo, LibreOffice Writer (QR codes), Bookbinder-JS (PDF imposer)

BINDING STYLE: Split-board binding, French double-core endbands

(Belated) Binderary Book 2024

My first year participating in Binderary and I'm 2/2 with my goals, albeit slightly late (even with the added leap day).

Goal No. 1: Bind a book!

This fic is an orphaned work, with no author available for me to reach out to. Convenient, since it was a last-minute decision.

Goal No. 2: Finish typesetting the fic that got me into this whole bookbinding/fanbinding hobby!

Bad Boys JEDI Style is a 217 chapter, 908k word "comedy of errors: in which our heroes are recruited to film a reality holo-drama". Much to my despair, the fic I loved had been deleted from every site it was uploaded to, and I was left kicking myself for not having downloaded a copy from AO3.

Shout out to Kam and Lofe, whose wonderful Binderary demos were put to use in the making of this book! Kam's French Double-Core endbands demo was super helpful, sizing up the 'textblock' and components made it easy to actually see what's happening with the sewing. Loffe's demo introduced me to the split-board binding technique and, sleep-deprived hiccup notwithstanding, I think I might find it easier then bradel style binding! Need to bind more books to know for sure (such a hardship 😔).

In other new-s, I took my dad's recent workshop baby for a spin. The bookbinding plough works like a dream! I tried a hidden fore-edge painting for the first time (just a solid colour), but the purple is lost under the Payne's Gray basecoat I applied to the silver painted edges. Adding ribbon to the cover was also new (mostly due to the fact that I never remember until the endpapers are already pasted down).

On the Design

Cover

This is a Team Thunderclap!Ye Xiu AU, so the cover was based on Team Thunderclap's uniforms from the donghua (from the one screencap of the team I found, see below): purple across the shoulders and forearms of their jackets with a yellow stripe down the centre. I added silver ribbon as a nod to the white of the jackets as well as the grey gear of the team's logo. Also in reference to the title: yellow=sunlight, silver=moonlight.

Title Page

The title page stumped me for a while. While brainstorming title page design ideas, I thought about what the title means. In English it's poetic but nonsensical, so I wondered if maybe it held some meaning in Chinese?

As it turns out, it does. Kind of. Maybe. (If I stretch and reach for it, it makes sense). According to a quick search of one webpage for each query, "'White Moonlight' usually refers to a person or thing that is elusive in the heart, has always been loved, but cannot be touched" or "an 'unforgettable first love'." The sunbeam itself might be Ye Xiu, the figurative ray of light, the hero, the gaming idol. Or 'catching a sunbeam' could refer to how "sunflowers turn their heads to catch every sunbeam."

The potential meaning I have cobbled together is how Dai Yanqi turns Ye Xiu's head and captures his heart by sharing the (SanXiu-ified) story of Su Muqiu, the aforementioned white moonlight. Is this what the author intended? Who knows. But it does seem plausible enough to inspire me.

I ended up using both the idea of sunflowers and Thunderclap's uniforms (again). Lightning referencing the team's logo, and also the white colour of a flash of lightning which is kind of like moonlight. The logo's background is blue, as is the uniform as seen on the cover of the manhua featuring the captain Xiao Shiqin (see below), so I made the background blue-purple.

Endpapers

The (not-actually-)sunflowers carried over to the endpapers, as well as the grey colour from the gear in Thunderclap's logo.

Endbands

Kept these simple. A solid purple, as close as I could get to the bookcloth. I didn't want to draw attention away from the stripes on the covers or the silver edges.

Probably could've gone for thicker cores.

The text

For the scene breaks I used a special character of a gear. The cog also looks like a sun. Which is fun because it can reference Thunderclap, the title (sunbeam), and my design choice of sunflowers.

I reused the lightning image at 50% opacity as a background to set apart the backmatter.

Misc.

Recently, I've begun to increase my efforts of preseving fanfiction and safeguarding the stories I love from purges and takedowns. (Sparked by the December 2023 scandal about Sony announcing an upcoming removal of content including the movies and TV shows that people have purchased).

This fic has been archived via the Wayback Machine at https://web.archive.org/web/20240215155152/https://archiveofourown.org/works/37414021?view_full_work=true.

Also, curses be upon Rawpixel. Since the time that I had downloaded the images, they have now be placed behind the premium user paywall (along with a number of other graphics and elements that used to be free).

#the king's avatar #tka #qzgs #fanfiction #bookbinding #fanbinding

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mikaa-mina · 4 years

Text

At Garden’s Edge- Ch 6. Sweet Discoveries

It's still Thursday somewhere. Right?? Right. Beta'd by the fantastic Tarek_giverofcookies

Content Warning: This scene takes place in a hospital, but it's more about the visit than anything hospital related or injury related. There's no described injuries, illnesses, or medical equipment. If you're still unsure, shoot me a message or ask a friend to take a read through. :)

At Garden’s Edge

Chapter 6- Sweet Discoveries

After swearing him to secrecy, grabbing two bakery-laden bags, and driving two towns over, the very last place Aziraphale expected Crowley to take him was the Brugmansia hospital.

“Crowley, what-”

“Shhh, it’s a surprise.”

Well it certainly wasn’t anything Aziraphale could have predicted so he supposed it was that.

Crowley strolled on in like he owned the place, hips swaggering all over like he forgot they were supposed to be attached to his spine. The receptionist looked up, did a double take and then sighed heavily, theatrically.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the infamous Crowley. And using the front door this time? That’s new.”

“Sugar-Cookie girl!” he greeted, grinning wider when her eyebrows pinched down in a frown, “just showing my friend around so I thought I’d use the front door for novelty’s sake.”

Her eyes flicked over to Aziraphale who, himself, was struggling to glance between her and give Crowley his best scandalized look. They couldn’t possibly be implying that Crowley snuck into the hospital in all manners of ways, could they? Her eyes caught his finally and she gave a wink, lips quirking up ever so slightly before she flattened them out again when she looked at Crowley.

“How.... very regulation abiding of you.”

“That’s me!”

“Uh huh. And you remember the regulation about no outside food or drinks being permitted?” Her eyes blatantly stared at Crowley’s arms laden down with two large bags of pastries. Two large bags of pastries with the cafe’s logo emblazoned across the front of the bags.

Unrepentantly, and to Aziraphale’s mounting horror, Crowley grinned and cheerfully said “Yup! Sure do. No outside food or drinks. Yup. Remembered that one.”

Finally her veneer cracked and Aziraphale, to his great relief, saw a small slip of a smile break through before she rolled her eyes. “Oh, alright, since you did us the honor of coming in through the front door today I guess I’ll let that slide.” She motioned for Aziraphale to come over and asked for his ID and to stand for the picture, “hope you can handle that one, Crowley’s a right handful.”

“Oi! Excuse you, I’m two handfulls!”

Sugar Cookie girl managed to turn her head away from Crowley before the smile broke out in full. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth for a moment before being able to shake off the need to laugh. She faced Aziraphale and deadpanned, “see what I mean?”

A quietly amused smile, “I do, and I shall.”

She gave him a smile, ignoring the ranting Crowley, and keyed in the last of Aziraphale’s information. “Pronouns for the badge?”

Aziraphale blinked, “oh, he/him I suppose.”

She looked up at his uncertain tone, “don’t have to add any if you don’t want.”

“Oh, no, it’s quite alright. Just wasn’t expecting it I suppose.”

She shrugged, typed it in, printed his sticker badge and slid it over to him. She glanced at Crowley, “pronouns?”

“Ehhh, he/him today’s fine.”

Two things were obvious as Crowley skillfully led them back through the winding halls of the hospital. 1. This hospital clearly specialized in pediatrics if the way the walls were covered with bright colors, crayon drawings, and cartoony bulletin borders like what you’d find in a grade school class room. 2. Crowley obviously visited enough that he knew his way around confidently and that he had a reputation for sneaking? In? Goodness.

They rounded a corner that led to what looked like a recreational room from their view down the hall. It had large windows displaying a small tv, some various toys, puppets, and a small crowd of kids. All of whom, upon the door opening, looked up and beamed.

Choruses of “Crow Crow!”, “Miss Crow!”, and “Mister Crow!” sounded off as some of the kids picked themselves up to run at him.

Crowley gave one of those rare laughs, and dodged the grappling attempts on his legs by weaving and swaying his way into the room. “Oi! Let me in you buggers, or no sweets!”

And it should have been scolding but it wasn’t, the kids giggled, gave him barely enough room to make it over to the other kids that hadn’t wanted to move, and the smile on his face about knocked Aziraphale off his feet. It was soft, and sweet, and wide, and absolutely genuine.

There’s a whirlwind of introductions, and Aziraphale promptly forgets half of the kids names while mixing up the half that he does remember, sweets are handed out, and there are pleas for Crow Crow to join them in playacting.

They do like Aziraphale well enough, more so he believes because Crowley likes him, and he must not be keeping his surprise and amusement off his face well enough because at one point Crowley elbows him in the side and teases, “oi, what’s that look for?”

He can’t help it. Aziraphale slides right into fond without meaning to and says, “I just think it’s rather sweet.”

Crowley’s face twists a bit at that, his mouth opens to object, but then a kid tugs on his arm and tells him the evil wizard is supposed to show up now so come on. Immediately he nods, already being pulled to his feet by the strength of a determined kid, turns his head, narrows his eyes and says “not one word.”

Aziraphale, saying not one word, just beams at him instead, smile wide and eyes dancing.

Crowley tries to frown at him as he’s dragged away, but the corners of his mouth keep twitching upwards like he’s trying to swallow back a laugh.

It’s later, after the kids have been mostly worn out and the sugar high has crashed, that Aziraphale asks about the different names.

“Oh. Well, I’m genderfluid so sometimes when I visit I’m presenting more feminine and sometimes I’m more masculine presenting. Some of the kids met me first when I was presenting one way or the other and came up with different nicknames. I don’t really mind, I think it’s kinda endearing. Don’t tell anyone I said that! But yeah.”

An oh, that made some other things make sense. Like how Crowley often wore a mismash of masculine and feminine styles of outfits. Or how some of his clothing seemed to be tailored sharper, and others less so. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Sss not like it’s a secret.” But Crowley was looking away, picking at a snagged thread on his skinny jeans.

“Yes, but still.” Could he have been nervous about how Aziraphale would react? It seemed strange to think of him caring what other people thought of him. Normally Crowley came off as uncaring of what others thought, loudly and proudly himself.

Hesitantly, just to comfort Crowley he told himself, he settled a hand gently over the one picking at his jeans. “I really do like this nail polish of yours dear.”

Crowley’s head whipped around to his, face pinking, eyebrows high above his glasses, mouth slightly agape as he stammered.

Feeling a bit mischievous, he picked up Crowley’s hand, careful to be loose enough that Crowley could pull away if he wanted, and tilted his hand from side to side, watching the nail polish shimmer. “It does such beautiful things in the light. However did you do it?”

“Ngk- guh- uh- it’s- it’s the nail polish. Comes like that.”

“Does it?” Aziraphale mused, shifting Crowley’s hand again before glancing back at his pink face and smiling. “Well, it looks wonderful on you.”

“Mngrk.”

“Pardon?”

“Nngh, thanks I mean.”

“You’re welcome dear,” Aziraphale blinked at the feeling of a small hand on his trousers and looked over at the kid who grabbed it. “Yes dear?”

“C’n you play make believe with us and be the wizard?”

“Well, I’m not very good at pretending, but I can do magic.”

At that a chorus of excited calls for ‘magic! Magic!’ sounded off with a renewed tugging at his pants and he turned to give one of those, ‘so sorry but duty calls’ smiles and found Crowley already stifling a smile and waving him off.

So off he went!

He started with small stuff, after all, he didn’t have all his supplies with him so he’d have to make do with what he had. So many coins behind ears, a borrowed scarf appearing from his sleeve, disappearing stuffed animal bunnies. The kids seemed amused, even if the older kids seemed amused in a different way than the younger ones. He found a deck of playing cards on the bookshelf in the corner and was even able to pull off three of his magic tricks without most of the kids noticing when he fumbled that one time. Or two times.

It’s during the second try of the card trick that he looks up and finds Crowley just staring. Naturally, it’s at that moment that the cards he’s shuffling nearly spray everywhere in an unintended game of 52 Pick Up and he has to scramble to right them without being too obvious. Still, when he glances up the next time, Crowley only has a hand over his mouth and his eyebrows are high up on his forehead like they’re sitting at the crossroads of surprised and amuesment.

Eventually they do have to go. Much to the disappointment of the kids, some of which had only showed up during the magic acts and hadn’t spent as much time with the two of them. (Equally disappointed were the kids who had to leave for appointments while the two of them were still there.)

Crowley promises to come back again while valiantly ignoring Aziraphale’s smile at that, and when pleaded to stay longer says he has to check on some packages that were being delivered today.

So the outing ends, as all outings do eventually, and they part ways after getting a small treat at the bakery for Aziraphale for ‘coming with me and putting up with the brats’.

And Aziraphale feels so light and happy that he only laughs and doesn’t quite manage to chide Crowley on calling them brats when he says it with such fondness anyway.

Aziraphale was practically humming under his breath, utterly delighted with the way the evening had gone. The familiar rush he got when preforming married incredibly well with Crowley’s laughs, and goodness if just seeing the way he smiled at those kids wasn’t the most delicious cherry on top.

He slid the key in the lock of his front door, already trying to plan another visit to Crowley. After all, he’d called them friends on several occasions, surely he would be amendable to more visits. And if that wasn’t enough a reason, there were always the sadly departing plants. Which. Speaking of...

Locking the door behind him and shedding his coat on the coat rack, he turned to try and locate his latest plant amongst his book stacks. Instead he found an envelope. On the floor at his feet. Which, made sense given the mail slot in the door, though maybe made less sense knowing he usually retrieved his mail from his box.

It was pristine white cardstock, his name embossed in gold script lettering on the front.

Aziraphale turned and went to the kitchen. He made a cup of tea. He set it on the side table by his favorite armchair. He went to collect a book and instead ended up circling back to the front door, staring down at the envelope.

As envelopes do, it didn’t speak. Audibly at least.

The cardstock of the envelope alone was expensive. It looked, and indeed when picked up, felt almost velvety soft in that way only expensive paper could achieve. The back flap of the envelope was edged in a shimmering gold metallic decorative trim. It was ridiculously ostentatious. Though knowing the sender it was only to be expected. An ego like his...

Aziraphale tossed the envelope onto his desk carelessly, it’s obnoxious pristine white paper a stark contrast to the muted and love worn tones of paper much more aged than it covering the desk.

Settling down in his favorite armchair with his newest acquisition, a second edition print of Pride and Prejudice (1st editions were not for casual reading), he took a sip of his tea, opened the front cover, and began to read.

It is a truth universally acknowledged...

#Good Omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #Ineffable Husbands #just ineffable #Crowley #Aziraphale #humor #comedy #fluff #sweetness #Azirapale's bad magic tricks #Crowley's genderfluid

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stevengrantshubby · 3 years

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okay, okay okay, okay. so here i go, idk if there will be a point in this but im gonna write it up anyways. so follow me down this weird half thought thur path or whatever

okay, so we know that tfatws takes place 6 months after endgame, long enough for things to no longer be new and the problems with what the avengers did (or undid if you prefer) are really setting in, not even a full year. the people who came back from the blip have only had 6 months to figure out whats going on, where their families were if they still had them, ect, ect and only 6 months for the people who were left behind to “adjust” to having everything ripped away from them. i do wonder about a lot of things from this time, but i doubt that we’ll get a ton of concrete answers about it.

anyways.

when we see sam in the opening action scene hes very confident and self-assured. hes in his element so to speak. hes strong, smart on his feet, and we see sam use his new wings as a shield multiple times which to me feels like either a kind of statement that sam doesnt need the shield or to show that he would be really good with the shield, it feels important somehow considering who important the shield becomes in the show.

also, the military guy tells sam that once the LAF get across the tunisia boarder its supposed to be a no-fly zone so to speak which is why it was important for sam to get him before which hints that not everywhere got rid of boarders. like, tunisia is in northern africa and when we meet the flag smashers later theyre mostly in eastern eurpoe and also torres makes a comment about things not being better during the blip and his american (im pretty sure) so again where these things are happening in relation to boarders and the like it still makes me think about how the world worked through the blip, but again probably wont get concrete answers.

also in this episode we see the first instance of sam being recognized for who he is by a man from tunisia (who im going to consider a character of color tho im not sure if this is considered accurate in the real world) and not recognized by white american men, this happens in episode two as well.

while the shield sort of becomes the super important symbol, we are also shown in this episode that steve has been kind put on a pseudo god-like position. yes, its a joke to ask if hes the moon of all places, but the whole “looking down on us”/”watching over us” feels a lot like the christian capital-G God. he has been put on this kind of pedestal by the people who really didnt know anything about him and also bucky (but hes been hanging by a thread for a while it seems so its a little different) in contrast to sam.

sam has a lot of respect for steve. he calls him courageous, righteous, and hopeful. the best in us because these emotions are supposed to inspire “good works” as it were. sam then states that the world needs new heroes for the current times and that symbols only have meaning because of the people who give them meaning. and upon my rewatch this feels sam want to preserve the meaning that steve, his friend, imbued into the shield but also wants to move forward. i do think that the fact that sam is a black man who is not treated very well by america plays into his decision as well, i also think the fact that we hear the lines from endgame:

- it feels like it belongs to someone else.

-it doesnt.

is important. right now im thinking that the shield is essentially meaningless because steve is gone for all intents and purposes and he dropped it without a second thought. like i get it, in terms of what the show is doing and like i said, how people who dont know steve would probably react but even so many weeks later it sits weird. even the dora milige left the shield behind even though its made of stolen vibranium, cause its just a thing. anyways...

rhodey, after the speech, parrots back at sam that they do live in a different time, but he thinks that this different time does require someone to carry the shield.

then we meet sams sister and his nephews. sam and his sisters relationship does hold a lot of tension between them but theres still so much love there as well. its very normal, reminds me of tension that i feel between myself and some of my family members and that i see between different family members as well.

sarah wilson is a black woman who, like many black women I know, have been holding things together the best she can with (seemingly) not much help. we know that sam left after their father died (i dont remember if their mother is also dead), he couldnt handle it as stated, so he went off and fought. but in being gone he sarah ran the business the best she could. shes also a widow, not sure when that happened but y'know thats there too.

but ii think that how sam feels about his familys home and boat in contrast with how he treated the shield kind of. sam references the boat as their familys legacy (sarah also calls their dad a 'giant' and that not mattering to the bank and probably others) and he doesnt want to let that go no matter what. however both of these are acts of preservation on sams part, just in different ways. he tried to let one go while desperately trying to hold on to the other, one to be put in stasis and one to move forward, grow, passed down ect, ect.

now sam really only tries to get involved with the flag smashers because he theyre super soldiers. and i guess youd call this the inciting incident part of act one.

now the next three episodes are very intertwinded in the plot and what kind of world sam would be becoming captain america in. sam makes an off handed comment that sharon, zemo, and bucky are more worldly than him but thats true. and he does have to...learn, is the best word i have. i mean, the most he can do right now is “make a call” as he puts it which really isnt a lot considering whats been going on.

and to backtrack (sorry if this is all over the place) we do see sam constantly empathizing with the flag smashers and more specifically karli consistently throughout the show. if they werent super soldiers hed not have crossed their path the way that he did. throughout the show, well before episode 4, sam is really focused on like where exactly the super soldiers are coming from, the fact that the flag smashers are stealing money, and food, and medicine he doesnt really care.

when he has his heart to heart with karli the main problem that he has honestly, is the murders (and i do wish that there was distinction made cause that is important, but i know that in show sam probably doesnt know that karli blew up a building with people tied up in it like we do but its important that we know that), when he says that the killings wouldnt make the world better just different along with karli saying “theyre roadblocks on my journey and id kill them again if i had to” (which is 1. very dehumanizing, 2. she says 'my' and not 'our', and 3. she didnt have to kill these low level workers) is more a restructuring of power instead of dismantling it.

like theres a lot here but my minds not connecting fully.

i know the show isnt over so ii dont really have a conclusion (i honestly havent even said half of what I took notes about) but its like 4 am here and I gotta go to bed. And I dont want this ti be multiple parts right now I just needed to get this outta my system lol.

part 2 whenever

#tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson #//these is really bad actually lol dont read it im tired

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jerkbitchidjitassbutt · 5 years

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What Mattered Most (2)

Characters: Dean x Reader; Sam

Summary: Dean wakes to find she’s gone. What would make his best friend leave him? Sam may just know.

A/n: This will be a mini-series of two to three parts, based on the song “What Mattered Most” by Ty Herndon. This has been rumbling around in my head for a while, so I finally committed to getting it down. This is a little later than I was hoping to get it to you today, for that I apologize.

Warnings: Angst. Sadness.

Dean stood in the doorway of the bunker’s kitchen, resting his weight against the wide frame as you stood at the stove, flipping sizzling bacon in a cast iron skillet. Your hips were swaying to the sounds of music flowing from your headphones and you would shimmy your waist every few beats, oblivious to the world and thoroughly enjoying the Saturday morning off. A smile played at his lips as he watched you, content to savor the moments where you were lost in a melody as you took care of him and Sammy.

You turned slightly and caught his movement out of the corner of your eye, making you jump and yank the cords from your ears, “Dean! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you yelled, clutching a hand to your chest.

A small chuckle erupted as he held his hands up in surrender, “Hey, you can’t blame me. There was no way I was going to ruin that show.”

Dean smirked as your cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink and a hint of a grin made a small dimple appear on the left side of your mouth.

He loved mornings like this; in the safety of his home, his brother snoring down the hall, and his favorite girl waiting for him to wake up.

“Yeah… well, you could have warned me. Not given me a heart attack.” You grumbled, but still cheekily beaming as you turned your back to him, setting to work at the stove with the pancake batter.

Dean moved slowly, placing a foot in front of the other methodically and allowing his strong legs to carry him to you. He rounded the small island, reveling in the sight of your falling in ribbons around a messy bun and your bare legs tucked beneath your sleep shorts.

It was a sight he adored. You.

When he reached you, he planted his feet on either side of your stance, his arms sensuously winding around your midsection. His fingertips trailed lightly against the skin exposed as he pressed his lips against your collarbone.

“How are you this morning, sweetheart?” he purred, caressing the shell of your ear with his mouth.

Reaching behind you to thread your fingers in his soft locks, you replied with a hum, “I’m good. Slept well, had good dreams.”

“Oh yeah?” he questioned mischievously. “About me?” he asked, attaching himself to your backside and locking you within his large frame.

You giggled. He could get lost in your laughter. “Of course, honey. Always about you.”

He spun you gently to cage you against the counter, leaning in to run his nose along the curve of your jaw, “I had good dreams too. I missed you when you weren’t there when I woke up, though.” his lips curling while he brushed a few stray hairs from your face, feeling the smoothness of your skin against his palm.

Stretching to your toes, you pressed a longing kiss to his plump lips, slipping your hands under the hem of his shirt to feel his muscle beneath. Dean knew he could live in this feeling for eternity.

“I’m sorry,” you whined, hugging him tightly and burying yourself in his chest, “but I had to go.”

“Go?” Dean questioned, confusion knitting his brow.

“Yeah, Dean.” You stated simply, pulling away from his embrace to look into his eyes, a sadness in your voice that he hadn’t heard before. “Remember? I left. I’m not here anymore.”

Dean stood speechless, witnessing the once happy glow fade from your gaze. A single tear flowed down your cheek, but you were steadily fading even as he still felt your warmth in his arms. “Y/n…”

Before he could continue, you slipped from his grasp, his hands still reaching for you as you vanished, words echoing in the darkness, “I’m gone. You can’t find me. I’m never coming home.”

Dean awoke gripping the sheets around him, a thin layer of sweat covering the length of his body and a panic in his chest that he couldn’t calm. He sat up quickly, searching his surroundings for something he wasn’t sure he’d lost. Sleep still fogging his memory, he struggled to remember what he was holding onto, but his dream haunted him none-the-less. He shook the covers from his legs and swung his bedroom door open with force, moving towards the room across the hall. Sam’s gentle snores could be heard from behind his cracked door to the left as he stood in front of yours.

When he twisted the knob gently and the door opened with a whine. He flipped the light switch, illuminating the pitch-black space to reveal a pristine, yet empty bedroom. He felt his stomach turn in knots and his eyes burn with fresh tears.

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t his imagination… You really were gone.

He’d tried for two months to find you, but every shred of your identity was left behind. Every link or connection he had turned up empty. Fake badges, ID’s, and every burner phone he knew of yours sat on the small desk adjacent to your bed. He dragged his body towards it, slumping into the chair and resting his elbows on his knees to run a hand through his hair tiredly. Retrieving your most recent license from the stack before him, he took a moment to study the photo displayed on the plastic pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. The smile hidden beneath them.

The images of his dream flooded back to him. He felt your skin touching his, your body cradled against him, and the smell of your shampoo. His hands could still feel your heat, though they were cold to the touch.

The scene in his vision wasn’t entirely fantasy, but one that he’d been a part of years ago. A memory of breakfasts you’d shared so many times made his chest tighten in agony. They were always filled with laughter and deep conversations. The secrets you kept from the world were often shared over the most amazing coffee and arguments ensued over the last shred of bacon. The only difference now was the intimacy. The touching. The kissing. Holding each other. That was something that had never been reality. It was never that he didn’t love you—at least not in the profound, elegant way, but rather it was something that hadn’t blossomed within him, until recently.

Until Sam told him everything. Until you left.

Now there was a longing in his heart that bloomed like a thirst that could never be satiated. He reasoned that it was just the feeling of missing his best friend, the person that had been there for him through all of the ups and downs that accompanied this life. But he knew. Deep within him, Dean knew he was in love with you—he could deny it, pretend he didn’t know the feeling, but there was no mistaking it. He also knew that he was too arrogant to appreciate it when he’d had the chance to act. He drove you away to the point that you didn’t want to be found, all the while burying himself into a hole of his own creation. He could try to move on, to try to forget and pretend to be his old self with a devil-may-care attitude, but there would be no use.

He stood from your desk chair and moved to stand by your bed, envisioning you lying there curled beneath your favorite blanket. Strangely enough, your scent was still etched into the very fabric of the room he now stood in. Your once decorated nightstand and dresser were bare, drained of the photos that use to adorn them. Dean resisted the urge to crawl into your bed and instead settled for running his fingertips along the hem of your pillow, cold and unused.

Dean shuffled back to the confines and darkness of his own room; closing your door to hide the haunting sight of its bareness, before slowly lowering himself back onto his mattress. He tucked himself tightly beneath the sheets, praying for the release of sleep if only to see you once again.

Hours passed before he was being gently shaken awake by Sam informing him of a case. In a state of confusion and hollowness, Dean packed his small bag of belongings and kept the radio silent during the entire drive, pertinently ignoring Sam’s questioning stares. He tried to pretend with Sam; pretend he wasn’t torn apart, but his brother knew him all too well.

Now, here he was, in a bar in nowhere, Nebraska, trying to chase the tiniest bit of his sorrow away. They’d arrived in town at 7 p.m., too late to follow any leads of the case, so Sam elected to stay behind and do research as Dean elected to do anything but stare at motel room walls.

“Another round?” the bartender asked.

“Yeah, then close out my tab.” Dean replied; opting that two was actually a good place to stop for the evening, something he potentially wouldn’t have done two months ago.

The bartender, a man probably in his late 40′s and hardened by life, grabbed the bottle of scotch and poured another three fingers over the remaining ice in Dean’s glass, “You from around here?”

“No.” Dean shook his head, lifting the amber liquid to his lips. “Just in town for a few days.”

“Didn’t think so. Only a few newbies ever make there way to these parts. But, let me give you some advice…” the stranger replied, reaching behind him, “This place has the best steak in town. My neighbor owns it; it’s an institution around here.” He set a paper menu in front of Dean on the glistening wood, next to the coaster that would house his drink.

Dean picked it up, prepared to thank him before he excused himself to help the new round of guests that poured in.

As he was studying the menu, a commotion sounded from the other end of the room, where two men were in a heated discussion about a recent game of pool. Dean took notice of the increase in bodies in the small area, not surprising for a Friday evening in a small town bar. At the other end of the space, a squeal from the speakers sounded as a few workers set up equipment for karaoke that would apparently be happening later that evening.

Glasses clinked together, the cracks and clanks of the balls being pushed by pool cues flooded his hears, and voices sounded from all around him; but nothing could have drowned out the sound of the voice he’d missed for months.

“Can I have a Jack and coke, please?” he heard from the opposite end of the bar, causing him to freeze. It was unmistakable.

He slowly turned his eyes in the direction of the wonderfully chilling melody and was met with the sight of you leaning over the edge of the bar, your Y/h/c hair falling in waves around your face and your eyes shining as you smiled at the bartender.

Dean attempted to force every cell of his body to tear his eyes away from you, but to no avail. Your skin was flushed and healthy. You were wearing a new shade of lipstick; a slightly darker red then the natural pigment of the flesh of your lips.

The bartender passed you a glass as you left a few bills on the counter, but you stayed planted where you were standing when you ordered. There was a lightness to you that Dean hadn’t witnessed in many years, feeling a fresh wave of guilt as the knowledge passed that it had been his doing that you’d lost it.

As he was taking you in, Dean felt a new found determination and strength to right whatever he’d done wrong. In that moment, he’d give anything to give you everything.

He began to stand, until he heard your name called.

A new fire rose to your eyes as you glanced in the direction from which it came, a bright, dazzling smile gracing your lips.

Dean watched as a man made his way through the crowd, steadfastly making his way to you.

And when that man captured your lips with his, Dean felt his heart shatter.

To be continued...

Masterlist

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mrsbenedictbridgerton · 4 years

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The Shark

My first writing of any kind in like - years. 2K words of me playing with the toys I put away so long ago and missed.

Card shark Killian Jones has taken Mills Casino for a sweet half a million. So they send in the best woman for the job of bringing him down. But when sparks fly, can either of them keep a cool head?

Ao3

White teeth bit down upon blood red lips. Jade green eyes were framed by brows drawn into a straight line. The fingers of her free hand, the one not holding a fan of cards, drummed lightly against the emerald green baize of the card table.

Killian Jones resisted the urge to smile. Such tells were clearly those of a novice, one not used to the high stakes of Mills Casino and certainly not the cordoned-off area in which they now played, one step before the high stakes section which sat behind a glossy back door behind her. He eyed the stack of golden chips that lay beside the tiny purse she had placed down when she sat, her long legs swivelling around the short stool, revealing the short hem of her red dress. Not short of coin, at least. He hid a smirk, this time by peeling off the black leather jacket he wore.

The lass with the golden hair nodded, taking another card into her hand. He watched her brow wrinkle for a second. Bust. Then her eyes raised, meeting his cool blue ones, a flash of electricity racing through his veins. He took a deep breath. Aye, she was gorgeous, but so was he. Clearly he had been too long without company in his bed if only a glance from an attractive woman sent waves of heat through his body, his groin tightening and then thickening in response. Fuck. He frowned and concentrated on his cards.

This was child’s play, she thought, as she watched the dealer take her cards and her chips. Pretending to be bad at Blackjack, looking like a beginner, losing a few- hundred - dollars (expensed, naturally): piece of cake. If she were to be truly honest, the accent threw her. She knew he was British and had been prepared for the queen’s English. But the honey smooth timbre of his foreign tones had threaded straight through her the first time he’d spoken.

She schooled her features in the innocent mask she had practised that afternoon. But ignoring him, well, that had been a little harder. She’d seen a picture, of course. Mills Casino had tabs on all its high rollers, especially when they took the house for a cool half million only a week ago. Actually, Emma had anticipated having to work a little harder to track him down. Surely, he wouldn’t return to the scene of his crime so soon. But the card counting crook had. Maybe he was arrogant. He certainly looked arrogant. All dressed in black, fingers covered in silver rings, shirt unbuttoned to show an almost unseemly amount of chest hair. But that wasn’t just it. There was something there. It was magnetism. Something that didn’t come across in a security image or a copy of his ID. He radiated confidence and… heat. Even from across the table she’d had to thank her great foundation for the hiding the blush she felt when their eyes met and she saw their deep blue.

And blushing was not her. Not Emma Swan, hard ass, ex con, best damn bail bonds person on the east coast.

She signalled to the waitress and ordered a Manhattan. She didn’t often drink on the job, but this was medicinal. She needed to think straight. To relax.

Her lips caressed the rim of the glass. Images of more enjoyable uses for that mouth taunted him every time he looked in her direction. He should stop looking. He was here to work. Almost a week’s break - in honour of the nice payday he had won last week - had been unheard of time for him until now. Routine was important. Focus was essential. Mistakes - fatal.

Tonight was for taking it easy. Perhaps it was brazen to show his face again, at least so soon. But he was almost certain his activities had gone undetected. That said he had done nothing illegal… more frowned upon. Frowned upon with fists. By casino security. He flinched briefly as he remembered his first foray into the depths that department. He’d had a swollen lip and black eye for a week. And he’d learned a valuable lesson.

She ran her finger tips along her clavicle. Her long wavy hair had fallen over her shoulder, sweeping along the low neckline of her dress, the shade of her cleavage drawing his eyes.

Bloody hell. What was it about her? He felt… drunk. Even though his two fingers of rum had remained untouched since he sat down. The cards were turned and he lost. Again. Three hands in a row, his count had been obliterated by blonde hair and long legs.

Enough.

He picked up his glass and downed the contents in one go. He nodded to the dealer and tossed him a couple of chips before picking up his jacket and heading for the exit.

What the fuck?

She racked her mind for the file she had built up on him.

Killian Jones never, never, left a table before he had at least doubled up. And he never left the casino floor before 3am. She glanced at her watch. It was just after midnight.

She had to get him tonight. Tomorrow, he could be gone. This was the first sign of him in days. She could just call out regular security to stop him, but Regina Mills valued discretion above all else. She did not want even a whiff of a scene. Which was why her services had been needed.

A second later, she was following him, making rapid little steps in her too-high heels as she headed for the VIP exit that meant high rollers didn’t have to walk the whole casino floor to get to their hotel room - or back onto the street.

She nodded at Tiny, the tall, bearded security officer who held open the door for her, as she made her pursuit. But she had only made a few paces along the dimly lit corridor before she felt a hand upon her wrist. A warm, strong hand. It was him, he’d been waiting where corridor intersected with another, stepping out to block her way as she halted in shock.

She thought he had blue eyes? No, they were sapphire. Dazzling sapphire. Hot, glittering sapphire.

This was the moment when she should have protested, men did not grab her without hearing a piece of her mind. Instead, she shook her arm free and stepped back.

Killian enjoyed watching her expression change - from shock to curiosity to idignance. If he said he wasn’t used to the way women reacted to him, well, he’d be a liar. And a liar he was not. Bending the truth however...

“Can I help?” he asked, rubbing his fingertips across his lips.

She looked momentarily stunned as if she did not know what to say. But she had followed him. He’d watched out the corner of his eye as she had seen him leave. Things were getting interesting. He liked interesting.

“Are you lost, love?” he asked, caressing the endearment with his tongue, taking a step closer and enjoying her flush.

Her shoulders straightened and she smiled. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Interesting. Well then…

He reached out and cupped her cheek. “You blush when you’re winning.”

“I do not-” she protested.

His land moved lower and skimmed across the exposed skin of her chest. “Here,” he added.

He could feel the racing of her heart as his fingers moved. His own pulse answered with a similar beat. By God, she was magnificent.

This was not going according to plan, she thought, as her skin burned from his touch. The cuffs should be on already. He should have been dragged down to the security room by now. Instead she was staring, her mouth a little open, her gaze fixed upon his stubble coated cheek which his knuckles has just passed over. Would those little hairs be hard and rough, or soft? She held out her hand and touched it. Soft, she thought, kissable.

Clearly there was some mutuality in that thought. His gaze dropped to her lips. His free hand found her waist and drew her closer. Then, his mouth was upon hers.

Soft and warm and strong. He tasted like spiced rum. His musky cologne mixed with the smell of the expensive leather jacket he wore. She sank into his kiss, letting her mind block out all the (very good) reasons that this was a very, very bad idea. Convincing herself it was just a kiss as her fingers slotted into his hair and he turned her, pressing her back against the flocked wallpaper of the corridor wall, sliding his thigh between hers. His heavy arousal pressed against her hip and she ground against it. Revelling in the feeling of power it gave - well, the illusion at least.

If the urge to pull up her skirts and take her right there had been even a little stronger, he would not have been able to resist. But Killian Jones was nothing if not a gentleman and even for him, taking a lass up against the wall in a public corridor would be a faux pax. He didn’t even know her name, and such information was a bare minimum requirement for his bed partners, or not bed in this case. He let his hands caress her waist and the delicious curve of her hips, drawing under her buttocks and pulling her tighter against him, torturing himself with the sensation of bodies entwined save for a few layers of infernal clothing. He wanted her. God, he needed her. The ache in his blood since she’d first appeared was reaching fever pitch.

He moved his lips to her neck, nibbling down the soft skin, allowing his lust to cool a moment.

“Do you have a name, love?”

Name. Yes, she had a name.

The question had cracked the spell she was under. Not broken it, she still felt heady with desire and something a little stronger than lust. But her name... It was at stake. This rogue, this scoundrel, with the silken tongue and gorgeous accent was her mark. She laid her head back against the wall, took a deep breath and tried to clear her head and ignore the sensation his lips were making upon her neck.

“Yeah, I do. Swan. Emma Swan,” and with one hand she reached into her purse and pulled out the cuffs she had brought. “Mill’s Security.”

He froze, his lips pulling away from her skin as the words sunk in.

“Ah,” he sighed. He jerked, ready to make a move. But, she was quicker. In a few quick moves, she had his face pressed where she had been, his hands behind him and she was fastening the cuffs. He didn’t struggle, which at first gave her pause, until she swung him around and saw the arrogant smile on his lips.

“Well lass, if that’s what you’re into, you just had to ask.”

She rolled her eyes, “Watch it, buddy.”

“Indeed I shall,” he replied, his eyes travelling down her skimpy red dress.

She pushed him ahead of her along the corridor.

Well, this was a turn for the books. Never had he been bested in such a manner. It felt oddly amusing. Perhaps more so if he wasn’t still feeling somewhat amourous, his body protesting against the abbreviation of the enjoyable activities. He liked this woman, this Swan. The name suited her. Graceful, elegant, strong. No one messed with a swan; powerful buggers they were if you got too close.

Well then.

He let her steer him along the corridor, taking a left before the exit, stopping at a large unmarked door. She punched a code into the security pad beside it and pushed the door open. Inside, there was a table with a chair on each side and little else to speak of.

She nudged him to sit.

“So, Swan, not you have me all to yourself, what now?”

She might have rolled her eyes at his question but she couldn't hide the blush. “Puh-lease, you are far too into yourself.”

“Merely an avid observer of womankind.”

She licked her lips. “You sit, I make a call, I get paid and you…” She let the words hang in the air before shrugging. “Well, that’s not my area.”

He chuckled, noting the interesting shiver of disappointment that rippled down his spine. “Tis a pity.”

“Yeah,” she hummed, letting her eyes linger on him for a moment as she reached for the door handle. She squared her shoulders. “Sit tight, revenue protection have a few things they want to talk to you about.”

One last time, she met his eyes. He fancied he saw regret.

Then the door closed.

She made the call from the courtesy phone along the hall, cell service being patchy at best in the depths of the casino. Now all she had to do was wait, make the handover and then head home for a hot bath and a large glass of pinot. Or two.

Her skin began to rapidly cool as the fever of those moments together faded into memory. God he could kiss. And his hands… and… She flushed as she revisited the sensations. She’s almost lost herself in the embrace. If it had gone on a moment or two more-

The back of her hand pressed against her mouth. He was a fraud, a conman, a manipulator. Making people feel things was what he did. It meant nothing. Even if it had been so long since she had felt anything beyond the basic mechanics attraction. It had just been to long. That was it.

She tapped her foot impatiently. They should be here in a moment. She should check on him.

Hurrying back to the room, she stilled her breathing before entering the code to open it. She would just check. Make sure he was… well, something. The door opened and she peered inside. The handcuffs were on the floor, a corner of the carpet pulled away to reveal a small trap door. More importantly, there was no Killian Jones.

Mother fucker!

Brushing himself off, Killian made his way out of the underground parking lot. The cuff key he always carried was tucked away in his vest pocket. He made a mental note to send Tiny a bonus, those details about the service shafts has come in very useful.

If he felt regret as he joined the busy mele outside the casino, he pushed it away. She was just another woman, this swan. Nothing to concern himself over.

And if he paused at the next sight of blonde hair and red fabric, well, that was another matter.

#once upon a time #ouat #captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #a fictional life

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years

Text

No Words - Interlude

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Type: Interlude [Flashback]

Genre: Idol, Poly, Interracial, Tall Female, Smut, Angst, Fluff [if you squint]

Warning: None.

A/N - Felt the need to roll back before moving forward. So, you’ll get two releases this weekend! This is the first two of 5, Thank you for reading this mess of a story!

Words: 3712

---

2 Years Ago.

Lucky.

You couldn’t have asked for a situation to be luckier. Her heartbeat could have doubled as a production drum track. One of her classmates, another girl from the inner city, looked bored as they sat in the auditorium. They both wanted to make music, good music - exciting music. They wanted to be at the forefront of technology and techniques for producing. They wanted the keys to the kingdom of hit songs.

The college decided that they could only get that experience - by working with the best of the best. They had invited a range of performers to come and discuss their methodology. Each had a formula that worked for them. Each performer had a story to connect to their songs. It wasn’t about the number one hit, it was about making honest music. About being true to themselves in the best way they can. Especially in an industry, and a country, that didn’t always accept differences.

She had been listening to various music styles, genres, and languages from a young age. It started in Jr. High, taking Spanish in 7th grade. She followed that throughout her High School time. She’s not embarrassed to say that Ricky Martin was apart of her foray into the Latin sounds. She listened to older songs, love songs, the music, and the story enthralled her.

Japanese animation spurred her love for J-Rock and J-Pop. X-Japan dragged her into the world, Dir en Grey kept her attention. She was in love with Visual Kei. Old rock, alternative rock, a smidge of country, and anything with a beat that caused her to lean her head toward it. She was an audiophile, plain, and simple.

Lead by a thin thread of melody until she had to devour the whole discography of an artist. She wanted to know all the ins and outs of the industry. Granted, there were other worthwhile fields to explore, so she was told. There was almost an expectation of finding easy money in business or even medical fields. She wrote poetry and song lyrics as long as she could remember. Music had been apart of the highs and lows of her life. She could associate a song for every pivotal moment of her life. The playlist spanned generations and the globe. It started when someone introduced her to Super Junior. Then it spiraled into 2NE1, Shinhwa, and the list went on and on.

She was so thankful her family didn’t try to limit her. Her parents expected her to be open-minded to the world around her. It was something instilled in her upbringing. That open-minded was the bane of her existence during her high school years, unfortunately. In a place where anything different made you strange or weird. She didn’t care for the urban selections that most of her friends were into.

There were times when her father put on his old school albums that she felt a connection. She wanted the story of music. She wanted the lyrics to strike her heart. That’s what she wanted in her music. She tried to write music, make music like that. All the artists she admired took chances, grew, and came back with something new.

And now?

She was sitting in an auditorium waiting for the most significant thing in music to come speak to their group.

She had a plethora of questions, worries, and fears. Everyone on the planet had heard about BTS at this point. There were a few of them who had managed to jump on the train early. Especially finding that they were working with legends in the rap community. Some watched expecting a spectacle - and to a degree? It was a spectacle.

Some wanted to see the thinking process of pinnacles of music that filled many a block party or high school dance. Let’s not forget backyard BBQs and family gatherings. Songs that whether you cared for the genre or not? Still managed to cause your body to move.

An elbow dug into her side as her friend stared wide-eyed at the line of men entering the auditorium. They were all seated semi-circle on the stage. BTS stood in front as the students clapped.

The boys had soft, quiet, smiles waving as RM straightened with a smooth phrase. It was almost military in precision as they saluted, bowed, and introduced themselves. They each took a moment to say hello in English at that. She tilted her head as they spoke.

It’s always a treat to hear a singer’s speaking voice. Some sharply contrasted their sounds. Others were no different from one to the other. She enjoyed the vocal textures, rich, or light tones as they spoke. Her friend saw her grinning like an idiot as her eyes rolled.

“Girl, get yourself together!” Tasha finally whispered to her. There was a thick swallow as she realized what she’d been doing. The boys were provided seats and microphones. They were treated to an acoustic version of one of their songs. To see the look of shock on the other student’s faces was an absolute treat.

She could only smile as time seemed to zip by. Filled with questions and curiosities. She asked all the questions she could. Always sure to ask for clarification, examples, and advice. RM was ready with a smooth, dimpled smile as he translated.

They all had solos under their belts at this time. So it was interesting to hear their thought processes. They all had one thing in common, though. The need to tell a story and convey emotion. To make sure that those who heard their music heard a message. It had been the most successful tactic thus far.

“So that ends our time. Everyone lets give BTS a round of applause!” The professor stood, the students followed. The boys bowed again and joined in the applause. They all gathered to shake hands, thanking them for taking time out of their grueling schedule.

RM raises his hands, spreading them wide. “Thank you for your time! We’ll see you tonight!” Everyone stared blankly at him, then their professor, who smiled widely. “Oh, I forgot to mention. We have permission to go backstage and watch operations for a tour.” To say that the sound that rose from the sudden silence was almost choral? It echoed off the walls as hands shook vigorously, shoulders were clapped - and the excitement caused tears.

“Alright, let’s get a picture!” The professor tried to get them all to find a spot. She managed to shake hands with most of the boys. Before she got a chance to shake Taehyung’s hand, they were being herded for a photo. She wound up, almost stepping on his foot as she tried to find a comfortable position. She wanted to shrink into nothingness. There was a bit of jostling before they used the bleachers to get them higher. She remembered one of the first words of Korean she’d learned. An apologetic smile as she mumbled an apology. Tae gave that infamous boxy smile with a wave of his hand. Tasha pulled her close as they sat on the bleachers smiling as the picture was taken. “Alright, you guys, meet back here in an hour - we’ll get shuttled to the stadium. Make sure you have your IDs..” The professor went on about etiquette, decorum, and rules. Nobody was listening - there was too much of a buzz about the show. They dispersed, waving the band members off. She bit into the bottom of her lip as they disappeared.

“Oh. My. God!” Tasha grabbed her and spun around. They laughed as she eyed her friend.

“Wait a minute, you were unimpressed just about an hour ago.” Tasha’s brow shot up with a devious grin.

“Girl, we get to go behind the scenes of the hottest tour yet! I may not understand anything - but I’m happy for the opportunity.” Tasha laughed as she tapped the base of a high ponytail. She pursed her lips, swinging its length. “Honey, that RM, though?” Ah, how many times had she heard that?

“Come on, I have to make sure you don’t embarrass me,” Tasha smirked, yanking her by the arm.

“W-what? That’s mean, Tasha!” She frowned slightly as the other woman rolled her eyes.

“It’s the truth.” She quipped as they hurried across the campus to her dorm.

“We’re going backstage, there’s nothing to dress for.” She kept the frown on her face Tasha bouldered into her apartment and pulled her in.

“Hush! Shower, now!” Tasha was taking no excuses as she pointed to the bathroom.

She grunted, rolling her eyes trudging to the bathroom.

Tasha respected her need to stay ‘practical’ about everything. She preferred oversized shirts, nearly formless skirts, and pants. Her friend wasn’t about that tonight. Tasha stuck her in a pair of jeans, a button-down shirt slightly tucked. She wore a pair of ankle boots accented with a silver chain. And by the time Tasha finished with her makeup? She hardly recognized herself.

“T-Tasha, I think you went a little overboard?” Her friend had just finished her own face. The subtle smokey eye with lower-liner really made her eyes pop! Tasha smirked as she grabbed their bags and pushed her out of the door.

“You’re not used to wearing makeup. Of course, you’d think it was too much.” The other woman rolled her eyes as they sprinted back to the meetup spot with minutes to spare. They all clambered on the shuttle.

All of a sudden, they were there. This was real.

They were walked through the various crew hiding spots. The makeshift dressing spaces underneath the stage. Everything was centrally located for the ease of the members. The head PD was showing the group the setups, the chasers, and they finally arrived in ‘Monitor World.’ The place that was basically production HQ.

Some took notes, some lingered in the back looking around. Not her, no. She wanted to know what buttons did what. She wanted to know how they were sure that the upper-level fans could hear appropriately.

There were a few people with her curious about various other things. They could hear the crowd until they queued the chase pattern for the opening song. The boys rose from a floor lift. The group went wild as they started in on Blood, Sweat & Tears.

Walkie talkies were going off left and right. Every time something could possibly go wrong? It was pointed out, corrected, and communicated. It was a tight run ship. They moved along to the area under the stage, just as the boys were lowered for a set and costume change.

They were breathing heavy, sweating, and peeling their costumes off. There were people on the sides taking them, ushering them into the makeshift spaces. The students stayed back out of the way. The transition was so fast the students couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed. They made it back to the control hub.

As if to make sure they were paying attention? The Head PD asked them to point out what they remembered. Tasha nudged her with a thumbs up. You got this, she mouthed. Everyone shifted on their feet as they fought to not being first.

She straightened her posture as she stepped forward. “I’d like to give it a try.” The Head PD double-blinked as stood next to him. Ah, it was probably her height. She offered a gentle smile and nod, “If that’s ok?”

“Please do. The routine is the same as before.” He smiled with his walkie talkie in hand. She took a deep breath, stepping closer to the operators at the panel. A headset sat on her head as the plethora of voices filled her ear.

The Head PD let them know that a student was making the calls, but he was overseeing. Two more students joined the panel board, the techs looking over their shoulders and pointing out controls.

She counted them down for each new element.

The lights went dark as the chase pattern activated. They could do this - she could do this.

45 very long minutes later?

“Holy fuck, you did it?!” Tasha grabbed her in a frantic hug. “Y-you really fucking did it! I was scared shitless, man!” Her mind was still hazy over what just occurred. Tasha looped their arms together as the concert sailed to a close. They stood in the back eyes trained to the fireworks display above them.

“I thought I was going to vomit.” She admitted quietly. Tasha moved rainbow-colored braids from her face.

“You should be proud of yourself.” They shared a smile as the professor rounded them up again. They followed the road crew as the stage was broken down. The last fans had long gone, and they were all alone again. The trucks, vans, and equipment checked and secured. She had followed the equipment with a few other students. They watched the breakdown and helped to carry pieces to be stored. There were, of course, a few quips of concern as she hauled a miniature subwoofer to the van.

She politely reinforced her ability to contribute and promptly turned with the item in hand. She rolled up her sleeves, forearms contracting as she moved along the corridor. Ah, why did she let Tasha try to doll her up? The familiar burn in her muscles ebbed away as she handed the equipment to the technical director. She was at home when she could tomboy her way through situations.

She offered a bow turning to make her way back to the main group. A moment too long of watching everything around her left her in an area she didn’t recognize. A frown as she spun in a circle taking the next left turn under the created passageways - and she slammed into something.

“Ah!” A voice, male exclaimed as she staggered backward.

She stumbled, and that someone, thankfully, pulled her arm hard to keep her from landing on her rump. She sucked in a breath as her gaze lifted. “Shit! I’m sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was-” A grunt rumbled through the air as her eyes went wide. “Oh.”

Kim Taehyung was plucking the final buttons from his shirt. His gaze lowered to the floor as he fought off exhaustion. They had to get changed to meet up on the stage again. It took him a little longer to get the cramps out of his legs. He barely made out a shadow before his body collided with it.

He saw her bounce from foot to foot before he pulled her arm. He heard the remorse in her voice as she rambled. His brow furrowed as she spoke too quick for him to pick out words. He still had his fingers wrapped around her forearm as she looked up at him.

She smelled … magnificent. His lashes lowered, nostrils flaring, on an inhale. She watched the perfect heart shape of his mouth part softly. She lowered her gaze to the expanse of flesh in her face. He was one button away from a cheesy romance novel cover.

They stood in silence, trading body heat before she glanced at the long fingers burning into her skin. Their gazes locked again, “You should be more careful.” He rumbled softly. Her lip caught between her teeth as she nodded rapidly.

“R-right. I’m sorry. Thank you.” She coughed softly, stepping away from him. His fingers still lingered until they loosened. Her eyes were wide as she turned on her heel, trying to get back out to the main walkway without that hint of desperation in her steps.

Tasha came rounding the corner at that very moment. “Hey! They’re waiting on us on stage for a final picture. Come on! I’m not missing this because of you.” Her friend yanked her along with a stupid grin on her face.

“Tae, Hyung, come on!” Jeongguk showed up as Tae went in the opposite direction. The maknae let him in their makeshift space. He helped Tae peel out of a sweaty costume. “I can’t wait to get some food and a beer.” Tae shrugged on a turtle neck, an oversized sweatshirt, and black slacks.

“That makes two of us.” The visual croaked tiredly. “Come on, then.” Jeongguk gave that bunny-like smile as he dragged Tae toward the stage. Tae sulked, “What are you doing?”

Jeongguk’s brow shot up as they walked into the wings. “We have to take a picture with the class from earlier!” Tae rolled his eyes as he was dragged out. They made it in time for Namjoon to address everyone.

“It’s been an absolute pleasure to meet you all. Good luck in the future. Please wish us well - and maybe? We’ll see you backstage with us someday!” There was a round of applause as everybody tried to find a spot to fit in the picture. Tasha winked as she made her way over to squeeze near Namjoon.

The betrayal of it all! She laughed as Tasha found a sweet spot to brag about later. She, on the other hand, wanted to just kneel down the front. The professor frowned with a wave of her hand, “Come on, you know you’re too tall up here! Stand back there.” There was a grimace on her face as she moved to the back. They were staged in layers again.

“Everybody in!” She felt jostled as arms pulled against her shoulders. Before she had a moment to register anything? Jeongguk squeezed on one side of her, his arm around Taehyung, who squeezed on the other.

Students, Staff, and Band were connected in the joy of a show well done. The camera flashed, and she smiled on autopilot. A few flashes, more applause, and she was quick to escape the trap she found herself in.

Jeongguk had caught a whiff of something pleasant, tilting his head curiously at the tall female. Both he and Tae seemed to find each other’s gaze as they flitted looks at the woman between them.

She turned to shake their hands with a quiet thank you. Both of them seemed to take TOO LONG to let her hand go. She beat feet in Tasha’s direction as soon as she could. Tasha had this dreamy look on her face after speaking to Namjoon for a few minutes.

“Is this what heaven is like?” Tasha’s eyes were glassy and hooded. You’d think the girl finished smoking an exquisite bouquet of the studded sticks.

“It could be, Tash. It could be.” She smiled, turning to look at the empty stadium. The students have all huddled together once again. The professor was talking with the TDs and PDs, even Namjoon was there. There was a look of stern concentration on various faces. A cellphone in the middle of the group seemed to be the main focus.

The chill in the air didn’t phase them as they spoke of their experience. They lamented their mistakes. They reveled in techniques to apply later. They were buzzing with excitement and a renewed appreciation for following their current educational path.

“Ok, everyone, listen up!” Their professor walked back over with a massive smile on her face. Tasha was rambling with her arms wrapped around her frame. She could see the heat of breath wavering in the air. The professor’s excitement was palpable with a gesture back to the team behind her. Suddenly, she could feel her heart thundering against her rib cage. Maybe the others could hear it too? They all got quiet.

They were all staring at each other, then at her. Her mouth was half-open as white noise filled her head. Her brow furrowed deeply as others around her wore looks of shock and disbelief. Then there was more applause.

Tasha grabbed her, jumping up and down, her voice pitched to shrieking. She felt her body shake as she turned the dazed look to her friend.

W-wait, what?

Tasha cupped her face and looked ready to cry. She blinked down into her friend’s face, prepared to be violently sick.

She turned back to the professor, catching the end of her statement as her hearing filtered back in.

“…you passed…” Her eyes went wide. “…intense work-study opportunity…” She was surely going to be sick. “…traveling with the tour…” More applause. “You’ll still need to complete courses, you’ll be provided with online links.” She staggered into Tasha, who laughed even louder.

“We wanted to see how this first run would work, and you surpassed all expectations. Congratulations, you’ll set the tone for the future students of the program.”

You blinked back tears as you engulfed Tasha in a hug. Not only were you all going to be able to get the first-hand experience? You’ll get it with BTS. It all made sense as to why they required a passport as an admission qualification. The professor stepped away to join the technical team while you all rejoiced. Namjoon and the rest of BTS gathered to shake your hands, and offer their congratulations.

Comments expecting good things ahead were traded. She was happy. This was unbelievable - a stroke of luck.

Tasha managed to steal a hug from Namjoon, crying almost harder when she turned around. A firm hand landed on her own, leaving her with a beaming Jeongguk. A half bow, a smile, a nod of thanks as he lingered. Taehyung all but moved the maknae aside to get her hand in his again.

He had that arrogant tilt to his head. The tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he lifted her hand. The light caught the dark chocolate of his gaze as he let his breath ghost across her knuckles.

He eased up, flashing a boxy smile before grabbing Tasha, doing the same. She shook off the strangeness of it all, turning to her friend with open arms.

“We did it!”

Their arms looped as they finally made their way off stage. The shuttle was waiting to get them to a small celebration. She still couldn’t help looking over her shoulder. For just a moment, she felt something staring a hole into her shoulder from the shadows.

Her brow furrowed as Tasha pulled her attention forward.

…just missing the two silhouettes lingering in the wings.

#bangtanarmynet #smutcentralnet #bts imagine #v imagine #taehyung smut #double trouble #in the beginning #v smut #taehyung x female

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getallemeralds · 4 years

Text

explorers of arvus: port draavos / 3.23.20

and now for something different: the misadventures of the hope’s guard

so for the past 3 years ive been in an ongoing dnd5e campaign run by michael called Explorers of Arvus, which is super cool and super fun and i love it a whole lot! and back when i used twitter, i’d liveblog our sessions and that ended up being my way of note taking bc im otherwise quite terrible at it

after i stopped using twitter, that had the side effect of me not keeping notes anymore, so i kind of didnt remember any of the past couple sessions? especially because its hard for all 6 of us to have like, schedules that make sense, so there’s a lot of distance between each session.

and then i realized i can just take notes shitpost-liveblog style and then just… like, put it on tumblr or whatever. i’ll probably make like, ill probably port over my old liveblog threads onto here sometime but until then: we played d&d today! Time For Shenanigans

some quick context: we’re called the Hope’s Guard, but our unofficial silly name is Chunch Bunch the Dungeon Master is Michael aka Skalter aka @openlyeight Taure M’ea is a half-elf paladin played by Penn aka @penn-name and she is doing her best. Sieron Astora is a human (secretly half-orc) wizard played by Jorb aka @jorbs-palace and he’s basically the protagonist, and also starting to be gay for Charlie Charlie Wickfield is a halfling wild magic sorcerer played by Leos aka us and she’s known for being very chaotic, lighting things on fire, and having a high charisma score but no idea how to articulate anything Thorne is a half-orc warlock played by Solar aka @craftlands and he grew up in nonsense land aka the feywild and i love him, and also he’s fine-tuned to be able to snipe the shit out of anything within a 600 ft radius of him w/ eldritch blast Silje Cottonwood is a tabaxi blood hunter played by Nyx aka @patheticnyas and he is very edgy but also a cat and is VERY gay for Thorne our general goal is to stop some motherfucker called Halvkar / the God-King from… i dunno, being a huge bitch? he dumped zombies all over Arvus and that’s a problem. its late at night and i just played d&d for several hours

AND SO: WE PLAYED D&D FOR THE FIRST TIME OF THE DECADE

last time:

chunch bunch beat up the cult and now we’re FINALLY GOING TO ARVUS, YALL (also we picked up a cat) (his name is silly. its silje but literally pronounced like “silly”) sieron hatched a child! so like, we have a lil coatl friend now OH RIGHT SIERON HAS A MOM. sierons mom is here charlie and sieron attempted to have a gay scene but charlie went off script by being “[internal dial up noises]” when sieron said something really heartwarming we’re in fort draavos! and now we’re picking up sidequests and just kinda wanderin around. woo!

NOW, ON EXPLORERS OF ARVUS:

thorne and charlie discuss the morals of necromancy, and also the concept of “[charlie voice] necromancy racism”

EVERYONE IS BONDING WITH CHARLIE TODAY taure gave charlie the rune of wound closure and told her to stay safe and im :keralisweep:

accidentally started a cutscene bc charlie is very loud in a temple, oop. some priests(?) glared at us and walked off and im sure they wont stab us later! ingrid the adorkable friend has been having reoccuring nightmares about a dark figure w/ black robes standing above a bleeding platform high in the air over a swamp and summoning undead, so we’re gonna go hit that up! it MIGHT be like, a vision of the past, but even if so thats still pretty relevant also there’s a cool half orc lady named undril silvertusk who we’re gonna escort to camp vengeance! she’s awesome

thorne: i was in a dungeon once charlie: you got better! thorne: [points] i DID get better!

summer: can i roll to steal the laser gun? michael: if you find the dragon, you can try to steal the laser gun.

solar: guys, we have to protect the lesbians at all costs. and if one of them turns out to be an ancient gold dragon and curses my dick, then so be it

taure: dont worry, i wont let you die. ingrid: …okay :D!

THE HOT SPRINGS EPISODE IS FINALLY HAPPEN sorry thorne. charlie dabbed at a buff tiefling charlie is too fucking short for the hot springs. also she’s like 50% hair so she is Dying

time for food! we ran into an adventuring party that is apparently based off one michael was part of in another campaign, and i think the buff tiefling is his? also taure ordered samples of everything and then got Super plastered

thorne rolled really good to infodump hardcore about arvus artifacts and it is cute and id die for him oop michael asked for all our passive perception

omg theres an introduction of a ~mysterious character~ and originally theyre supposed to just sneak off but then michael realized they’d be genuinely interested in thorne’s infodumping so now theyre just Lurking

the opposite of a slow burn is a fast explosion

[everyone gets distracted quoting realtime fandub]

oops taure is depressed! ALSO SHE BROKE UP WITH SIGRA??? charlie is VERY bad at emotional support so she’s just “uhhhhhhhhh”, but thankfully thorne catches her before she faceplants into her potatoes CAN ANY OF US CARRY TAURE??? SHE’S IN FULL ARMOUR AND ALSO PASSED OUT

michael: what do you do with the bottle? summer: eat it

charlie get haircut! WITH SWORDS. her hair is now like midway down her back so its like, a bit shorter than when she first met everybody silje: do you want this [the hair he cut off]? charlie: UH WHAT WOULD I .. DO WITH IT… silje: …make a rope? charlie: yknow what i might as fucking well, who knows if id need spare hair

penn: i dont think taure is horny tho! summer: ITS OK, SILJE IS HORNY ENOUGH FOR ALL OF US

michael: Sieron, Str of 10- action hero Thorne, str of 14- twink nyx: silly, str of 13- cat solar: i guess thorne is a hunk. michael: thorne is a twunk summer: the t in thorne stands for twunk

taure, extremely drunk and sad: CHARLIE IM SORRY I MADE YOU BURN DOWN THAT LIBRARY (sieron and thorne carried her to bed and she ended up apologising a whole lot about literally everything)

jorb/sieron wants to know if charlie’s hair has any lingering wild magic nonsense!

thorne’s staring out the window! and also discord kept censoring solar when they were trying to say that THIS ENTIRE AREA IS WITHIN THORNE’S RANGE. solar: i could shoot someone at the thundering boar tavern [from our tavern] jorb: [as thorne] WRONG TAVERN, IDIOT!

solar called soldier:76 a cornfucker and it blindsided me so hard

michael: silje cottonwood, dark edgy blood hunter. [flops over on camera] NOTICE MEEEEEEEE

WE’RE NOW MAKING NONSTOP FORT DRAAVOS PUNS. i had to go clean pepper’s litter and when i came back they were STILL GOING

thorne pets silje on accident bc silje ws doing an anime squat on the balcony’s railing and is now having a crisis of “is it appropriate to pet the furry?” AND ALSO SILLY IS VERY SOFT

jorb & michael: [say something cursed] summer: [looking around frantically] I DONT HAVE AN IMPROVISED WEAPON solar: Allow Me. [brandishes baseball bat on camera]

#leo chirps #txt #summer.txt #dnd #explorers of arvus

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