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randomshyperson · 2 years

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Yellow Curtains - Chapter Three - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Wanda Maximoff's senior year at Novi Grad School is duly planned for her. She has good friends, good grades, and a good system to hide who she really is. Or, the one based on Evak from the Norway Skam series, where Wanda is queer and tries to survive the last year without anyone knowing about it.

Warnings: (+18), general warnings about language and violence, legal drug use, mentions of underage drinking, high school, internalized homophobia and discovery of sexuality, explicit mentions of mental disorders (bipolarity and depression), dysfunctional family, making out, and eventual smut.

Skamverse | Series | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Chapter Tree - The Pool

Sreda, 13:25 (Wednesday, 13:25 am)

It had been almost a month since the cabin, and Wanda had developed a foolproof system to keep her thoughts away from you.

Step one, she convinced herself that the almost kiss was a delirium of her mind and that you had simply bent down to pick up the bottle, and she never confessed that she was only paying attention to Vision because she was afraid of being alone. She wouldn't have done that in good conscience, so of course, it was a delusion.

Step two, whenever Wanda's brain persisted in thinking about you - which happened mostly in history class, when it was impossible not to notice you, or when Carol was around, and consequently brought you along - Wanda forced herself to remember that you had a boyfriend.

A handsome, popular, intelligent boyfriend that everyone adored.

The third step was the most childish of all, but Wanda needed ground under her feet after she caught herself checking your Instagram like an obsessed stalker, and after accidentally (as if) visualizing and liking a post after three seconds, to which you replied her with a wink and a 'stop stalking me, Maximoff' that was clearly a joke, but which made Wanda blush so much that Pietro asked if she had a fever in the middle of the cafeteria; Wanda blocked you everywhere. It was childish and made you cast doubtful glances at her for the next few days, but fortunately, you didn't touch the subject.

The last step disgusted her. Vision was a genuinely nice guy, and Wanda was determined to stay with him because that was as it should be. They exchanged numbers, and when he wasn't working, he would call her to talk about anything. She tried to like him as much as she could.

He was the invitation to college parties, so her friends thought the relationship was the best thing Wanda had come up with.

On days like today, when you looked so casual and adorable in a geek hoodie, writing the assignment only two chairs away, Wanda wondered if the whole plan was worth anything.

"Miss Maximoff?"

The whole room looked at her, and Nat gave her a warning nudge. Wanda blinked away from you, blushing heavily at the attention.

"W-what?"

T'Challa laughed softly. "The question, Miss Maximoff." He repeated, and Wanda stared briefly at the board behind them, with several topics to which she paid no attention at all. Seeing her complete confusion, the professor sighed. "Wanda, stay after class. I'd like to have a word with you."

The room giggled, but T'Challa silenced them immediately as Wanda cringed in her chair in shame.

When the period ended, Wanda ignored for the sake of her own sanity, the soft look you cast at her before gathering your books and leaving the room, Natasha engaged in conversation with you and went to the next class period as well.

Wanda dragged herself to T'Chall's desk with her backpack slung over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, sir, I'll try to be more attentive to..." A quick glance at the blackboard. "Sokovian revolutionaries."

T'Challa chuckled softly, pulling from a pile of activities a corrected paper that he held out to Wanda.

"Here, Miss Maximoff." He says. "It's your lowest grade in eight years of school. In your favorite subject, so imagine my surprise."

Wanda swallows dryly, staring at the red F for half a second. "I-I..."

"Wanda, do you need to talk to someone?" T'Challa asked gently. "I know you've had some tough months at home, your parents are present in the school community. If you need to talk to someone, it doesn't have to be a teacher, it can be our psychologist or-"

"I'm fine." Wanda cuts in with a soft grimace, shoving the exam in her backpack. "Really, Sir, I'm fine. I've just had some trouble sleeping lately, but I- I'll be fine. I won't fail again, okay?"

T'Challa doesn't seem to believe much but nods in understanding. "Just know that we're here for whatever you need, Wanda."

She forces a smile, muttering a goodbye before practically running out of the room. Wanda has a period of Chemistry now, but instead of following the flow of students into the room, she makes her way the opposite way to the empty rooms on the third floor.

She can't get there. On the second floor, she is not breathing normally.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She gasps leaning her hands on the wall, trying to keep the tears in her eyes. The place is empty, and she thanks the gods for privacy. She manages to find a bathroom, and when she finally sits down on the floor, she is crying.

She hasn't had a panic attack in years, but it's as bad as she remembered. Fighting for air, she tries breathing exercises. It doesn't take more than five minutes, yet Wanda feels like it's been an eternity before she can breathe normally. The worst part is going back to class and pretending there's nothing wrong so as not to worry her twin.

–//–

Sobota, 19.40 (Saturday, 7:40pm)

She looked pretty, people said.

Even Pietro, who always tormented her at every opportunity, saw her leaving the room in her chosen outfit and whistled playfully.

"Vision is a lucky guy." He teased, and Wanda rolled her eyes.

"Shut up."

"Use protection, I'm too young to be an uncle." He scoffed, and Wanda raised her middle finger at him before walking off down the hall.

Her mother, who was working on a laptop in the living room, gave her a kiss on the cheek and complimented her appearance as well. Wanda wanted to go back to bed, but her cell phone vibrated.

"I'm outside. As you asked." It was Vis, and the last part brought a pang of soft guilt to her chest. They had been going out for a month and a half and Wanda had yet to officially introduce him to anyone. There were no labels, and although he had been patient until now, Vision was starting to find it strange.

"When am I going to meet this boy, huh, young lady?" Natalya asked as soon as Wanda grabbed her keys to leave. It was clearly a tease, from the tone used, yet it still left Wanda feeling uneasy.

"Soon, mama." She muttered. "See you later."

She opens the door, but Natalya asks, "Should I wait for you?"

Wanda feels her stomach turn. "Ne, mama." She murmurs and walks out the door.

Vision drives to a local bar. He smells of expensive perfume and aftershave lotion. It reminds her of Tony. Wanda wonders how many belongings they share now that they live together.

He also tells her that she looks pretty. The only thing Wanda feels like is an imposter anyway.

She steals glances at him as he tells her about the intense day he had at work, and as he talks about reports, she tries to imagine what it would be like to have sex with him.

Vision has been very respectful, but he clearly had his needs. Wanda can blushed, from embarrassment more than anything else, when she remembers feeling him hard during the few make-out sessions they shared.

He wanted her, but she was not sure she could say the same.

"You'll like it here. It's sophisticated, and it's a friend's shift today." He comments as he parks, and Wanda forces a smile, for the thousandth time in the night. But it doesn't bother her. Lately, she's been faking a lot of things.

Vision doesn't lie about the bar, it really is very fancy and elegant. The drinks cost a fortune, she notices as she looks at the menu on the wall. Despite this, it is crowded and must be a place known to couples because these makeup almost 90 percent of the customers around.

There is a hand on her back gently pushing her to the nearest table and Wanda feels part of her brain shut down.

"I have to say I was glad when you agreed to come tonight, Wanda." Vision comments between topics of conversation. He has already ordered service, but from the number of people, they have not been served yet. "I was beginning to think you wanted nothing to do with me." He says with a laugh. It's bait, Wanda knows. Natasha and Jen spent weeks giving her a hundred tips on how to flirt with boys, and how relationships work after they found out she was dating him. And after years of watching her friends flirt, it's not that hard to recognize when a guy is trying to figure out what she's thinking.

She deflects the innuendo, giving a chuckle. "I've just been busy, with school and all. I'll have more time to date now."

Vision's gaze lights up. He looks ready to ask for her hand, but the waiter arrives. And when she recognizes the blonde hair, Wanda almost falls out of her chair.

"Carol?"

"Oh, hey Maximoff! Good to see you here!" Declares Danvers cheerfully, a little surprised but evidently pleased with Wanda's presence. "And you too Vision!"

They engaged in gentle compliments, but Wanda circled her gaze around almost in desperation. Would you be here too?

She only realized that Vision had ordered her drinks for her when Carol left the table.

"Are you okay, you look a little pale." Vision comments worriedly, and Wanda shakes her head to disguise it.

Forcing a smile, she gets to her feet. "Sorry, I need to go to the bathroom." That's the excuse she makes up, leaving the worried boy at the table.

Wanda makes her way outside, however, and the night air helps her breathe normally.

This had to be a test of the universe was clear. She rests her hands on the railing of the stairs, and takes a deep breath, keeping her breathing in check. No panic attacks on date night.

"Hey, Wanda!" Someone calls out to her contentedly, and she lifts her face mortified.

Peter Parker is wearing a casual outfit, dark jeans, and a white shirt. His arm is around your shoulders, and you are both approaching the entrance to the bar, coming out of the parking lot.

Wanda's stomach does a complete somersault as she meets your gaze, but she adjusts her posture and forces a smile. Peter catches up to her and kisses her cheek in greeting.

"What a coincidence to find you here. Did you come alone?"

She can only respond with a negative nod, unable to formulate words because you approached to greet her and kissed her cheek.

Peter looks inside through the window and finds Vision alone. He enthuses. "Awesome, let's all sit together!" He says, stepping out into the bar to call the other.

You look at her. "You look beautiful, Wanda." You so sincerely remark that she swallows dryly, her face burning. For the first time in the night, she believes it.

Pushing the door open again, you step in front, and Wanda follows you inside.

–//–

Sobota, 20.40 (Saturday, 8:40pm)

The most embarrassing period of her life is what she would call this night.

Vis's hand on her thigh weighed as heavy as your death stare in their direction, and Wanda didn't think she would survive another hour of this.

Vision and Peter seemed to be having the best fucking time in the world, but that was to be expected since more than half of the empty glasses on the table were theirs.

"I can't believe we've never met here before, Peter!" Vision commented excitedly. "I've been coming here all summer because Carol gets Tony and his friends a discount on the drinks."

"Well, it's clearly never too late." Peter retorts half-drunk, raising a glass again. He gives a toast before a long sip, and Wanda adjusts uncomfortably in her chair as Vision squeezes her thigh again. "Tell me, what are you majoring in any way?"

"Robotics Engineering."

"Fancy." Peter comments getting a laugh from Vision, who then shrugs his shoulders.

"I guess so." He says. "Tony tells me you're pretty brainy, maybe you'll get some internship at Stark Industries during your first year..."

Peter looks surprised, turning a bit red. "Oh, I'd be honored. I don't think I'm that bright though."

"Come on, I'm sure that-"

"Sorry, Vis, he's not available." You cut in with a forced smile, clearly not having the slightest patience for the whole interaction. Vision blinks in confusion, and Peter hesitates. "Big boy here is going to England next year. Internship at Oscorp Industries."

Vision raises an eyebrow. "Wow, that's impressive." The man comments, raising his glass to Peter. "That deserves a toast."

Peter smiles wryly, but you roll your eyes and stand up. "I'll take a break from the sycophant moment you two are having." You cut in irritation, but when you make mention of leaving, Peter grabs your wrist tightly.

"Y/N, come on, don't be rude. We're just talking-"

"Don't fucking hold me!" You explode, pulling your arm away. "What the fuck are you even still doing here, eh Peter? England is waiting."

"For the love of god, are you really going to put on a show now, in the middle of the bar, in front of our friends-"

"They're not my friends." You retort annoyed, moving away from the table and heading for the exit.

Peter sighs loudly and looks at the couple with a regretful expression on his face.

"Look, guys, I'm sorry about that." He asks before running after you.

Vision gives a confused laugh once there are only two of them at the table. "Damn, I was told that Carol's sister was a little crazy but I didn't think that..."

"Don't talk about her like that." Wanda cuts him off drily, pushing his hand off her thigh and getting up behind the ones who just left.

You and Peter are outside on the sidewalk, yelling at each other.

"[...] I don't know why you keep freaking out about this! I love you, England is not going to change that! I've invited you dozens of times, if the distance is the problem why don't you just come with me?" Peter questions.

You hesitate with tears in your eyes. "My life is here, when will you understand that?" You shout back. By now, half the customers outside are watching the commotion as well.

Peter steps forward. "But what about us, Y/N? If you could just..." He licks his lips, trying to find the right words. " Wouldn't you come with me?"

You laugh tearfully. "And what is there in England for me?"

"Me." He retorts with emotion. "There's me, Y/N! But I guess that was never what you wanted, was it?"

You don't answer, tears streaming down your cheeks. Peter tears too, but he sniffles and pushes the emotion away.

"I..."

"No, you don't have to come up with excuses." He cuts you off with emotion. "We won't work at long distance. We don't work even close to each other. So I do what you've been trying to do since I got the damn internship letter. We're done."

Peter walks up to you, kisses your forehead, and walks off down the street. You hug your own body and don't try to call him back.

"Wanda, I think I'll give him a ride. He is far from home." Vision announces behind her, and only now does Wanda acknowledge his presence at all. She nods, and he is too distracted to notice that she turns her face away when he goes to kiss her.

Vision nods to you out of politeness, before walking off around the corner where Peter went.

Wanda comes down the stairs from the entrance and walks up to you.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

She offers gently, managing to make you smile. But you deny it with your head.

"Let's get out of here." You declare, wiping your face before grabbing Wanda's hand.

"I don't think anyone paid..."

"Don't worry, Carol covers for us." You reassured her, pulling her into the parking lot.

Wanda recognizes the motorcycle, this time with two helmets.

"Where...?"

"Just trust me." You interrupt her gently, and Wanda decides to do so.

–//–

Sobota, 21:21 (Saturday, 9:21pm)

Wanda was laughing so hard her stomach was hurting.

She couldn't remember, even if she tried, the last time she felt so at ease, that she had so much fun.

You drove through the city for many minutes, Wanda's hands firmly on your waist, her face pressed against your back. Until you reached the main boulevard tunnels, and you told her to risk it.

"You've gone crazy." Wanda retorted, but you chuckled.

"Come on Maximoff! Take a risk!" You insisted between laughs. And Wanda backed up, standing on the bike, arms outstretched as the strong wind ruffled her hair. She shouted with happiness, and you followed her until the tunnel reached the end.

The residential district was empty because of the time, so when you finally stopped, you bought drinks. Wanda didn't ask about the non-alcoholic beer, because she was distracted by your proximity to her face, making some joke that she didn't quite catch.

You walked around, exchanging drinks, stories. It was comfortable. Good.

"Fuck, look at that pool." You gasped suddenly as you passed through a fence that overlooked the backyard of one of the houses on the street. Wanda stood beside you, with a nearly empty can of Coke in her hand. "Imagine living in a big house like that."

"I think swimming pools are overrated." She murmurs, making you look at her curiously. Wanda was thinking about her father's house, where there was a huge luxury pool, and how she wouldn't trade any time in her suburban home with her mother for it. "Luxury doesn't make any place a home."

You smiled at her, but it was almost mischievous. "But it can be a lot of fun. Come on."

Wanda barely had time to react and you were already running away, skirting the fence, and then the garden. She left her bag of cans somewhere in the grass because you pulled her through a gate.

"Y/N, we can't..."

"Shh, stop thinking." You insisted, bringing her inside, the pool behind you. Wanda swallowed dryly, hyperaware that she had just broken into a house and your hands were still in hers. "Rich people are never home."

"I don't think that's true." She mutters nervously, but you only laugh, releasing her hands to remove your blouse. Wanda blushes heavily, looking away.

You don't mind, working on the pants and then the shoes. But you giggle when she remains static.

"Come swim with me, Wands." You ask, and it is the first time you have used a nickname, and she loves it. How it sounds on the tip of your tongue, how affectionate. She thinks she even loves the way her stomach does two flips when she hears it.

"Okay." She murmurs in agreement, and you stand right there, staring as she takes off her clothes. Wanda can feel her face burn, but she doesn't back down. Once she's only in her underwear, you bite your lip, scanning from top to bottom as if you can't help yourself. "Is it cold?"

She asks, and you blink away, turning to check the temperature with your foot. Wanda takes the opportunity to push you inside.

Her laughter is contagious over your expression of indignation as you emerge from the water again.

"I trusted you, Rose!" You shout dramatically, and she continues to chuckle, moving closer as you extend a hand in the air. "Come, jump off the Titanic with me."

Wanda giggles, leaning over to take your hand and step calmly into the pool. So, of course, you then pull her in with a tug.

You are laughing as she emerges back, and though she laughs too, she throws some water at you, before hugging her own body.

"It's freezing, Y/N!" She complains clenching her teeth, and you giggle mischievously, swimming around her.

"I think a little exercise will warm you up, Maximoff." You tease. "Let's race. To the other side of the pool."

She laughs but follows your cue. "On three?" She suggests, but despite your hums in agreement, you swim off shortly after one, and Wanda grunts indignantly before following you.

You both gasp for air, laughing and throwing water at each other for a moment when you win the race.

"It's not fair! You burned the start." She complains without really sounding angry, but all you do is laugh and swim around her.

"oprosti (sorry)." You mutter, staring at her in a way that makes Wanda twitch. "But it was all a tactic. The adrenaline of swimming out after me warmed you up, didn't it?" You tease, and Wanda rolls her eyes, laughing a little.

"Oh, what a clever plan." She wryly makes you smile.

You swim closer, and Wanda swallows dryly.

"Let's play another game then." You suggest. "Since you're such a terrible swimmer."

Wanda slaps some water in your face, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me you, I'm an excellent swimmer."

You chuckle, now considerably closer. When did it get so hard to breathe?

"The game is simple, Maximoff." You whisper. "First one out of the water loses."

Wanda swallows dryly, nodding in agreement. "No cheating this time." She whispers back, feeling the pool wall on her back.

"I wouldn't dream of it." You retort with a small smile, then raise an eyebrow. "On three? One, two..."

Wanda dove in the same second you did and all sounds were muffled underwater. With held breath, she opened her eyes. You were looking at her too, and you smiled, tilting your head to make her smile too.

She could hear her heart racing but continued to hold her breath. You reached out to her, making her instinctively pull back, but you didn't give up, poking her in the ribs. Two tickles later, Wanda couldn't hold on under the water and emerged gasping for air.

You did the same, grinning. "I won!" You celebrate breathlessly for the dive and Wanda laughs indignantly.

"You cheated! Again!"

"I think you're just a bad loser, Maximoff." You tease, grinning at the wave of water she throws at you. "Okay, okay, you want a rematch?"

She laughs, shaking her head still in disbelief. "No cheating this time."

You make an innocent expression, and Wanda laughs before diving in first. You swallow dryly before following her underwater.

Your gaze meets hers, and Wanda thinks for a moment, there is only the two of you in the whole world, underwater, protected from all problems. You tilt your head gently, and she blinks before moving forward.

You are taken aback by the feel of her lips, and you breathe, emerging at the same moment.

Wanda rises the next second, a breathless laugh as she says, "I won this time." She declares equally affected, but you face her completely surprised by the kiss. Wanda swallows dryly. "You want a rematch?"

"Yeah." You gasp, smiling at her in confirmation before you dive in together.

This time, underwater, you only give Wanda a seconds to get used to the depth before you advance against her, kissing her on the mouth.

She kisses you back at the same moment, and can't hold her breath, emerging with you glued to her.

It's messy on the surface - Your hands circle her hips, and you gasp into each other's mouths, pressing your lips together with need. Wanda feels like she's burning from the inside out. Is this what kissing someone should feel like?

Her hands squeeze your shoulders, your hair. She thinks that if she doesn't hold on to something she will melt into the water again.

And you kiss her until she is breathless, with tongue and teeth, with a boiling desire that she shares.

Suddenly you let her go because there is a flashlight in your face.

"Who's there?" it's a male voice coming from inside the residence, definitely a security guard.

"Oh, shit. Run!" It's your only warning before you swim away, and Wanda follows you clumsily, as desperate to escape as you are.

You grab your clothes at the edge of the pool and stumblingly reach the fence at the same time the housekeeper reaches the pool. Luckily, he doesn't see your faces.

And when you return to the street, you are both laughing.

–//–

Nedelja 9:46 (Sunday 9:46 am)

Wanda wakes up with a stupid smile on her face and tries to hide it in her pillow.

It doesn't do much good. She feels so light. Happy.

Her cell phone is unloaded in some corner of the room, and she grunts softly as she hears knocks on the door.

"Come in." She says, and the next minute, her twin is inside her bedroom, leaning on the doorknob.

"Are you awake?" He asked, managing a short laugh.

"No, I talk in my sleep." She retorts with a mischievous little smile and eyes still closed. Pietro doesn't laugh.

"Papa is downstairs, Wanda." He declares and she immediately opens her eyes, her body tensing. Adjusting herself on the bed, she looks at her brother, noticing the casual clothes he wears instead of pajamas. His expression is equally dissatisfied. "I told him you were asleep, but he insisted that he wanted a word with you. He said he didn't drive halfway across town to be treated like someone dispensable."

Wanda grunted impatiently. "God, why does he have to be that way?"

Pietro shrugs. "I don't know, but from experience, you'd better listen to him or he might cause some trouble. You know Mom can't afford this place by herself..."

"I know, Pietro." Wanda cuts off annoyed, pushing the covers away to get up. As she goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth, Pietro closes the door.

"Hey, where were you last night?" He asks, and she grimaces, staring at him through the mirror. He leans on the bathroom door, his hands in his pockets.

"With Vision?"

Pietro raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, but later." He insists, and Wanda feels her stomach sink. "He texted me, asking if you had gotten home safely because he couldn't find you at the bar. But, well, you only arrived in way later after his text."

Wanda took a deep breath, and then looked at the sink. "I was wandering around in town. I needed to think."

Pietro sighed. "You could have called me, I'd keep you company. It's not very safe to be walking around alone. Being a girl, I mean."

"Well, I'm safe and sound." Wanda cuts in impatiently, finishing brushing her teeth while her brother mutters that he didn't mean to offend her. As she wipes her mouth, and leaves the bathroom to change clothes, Pietro crosses his arms.

"You don't have to tell me what you don't want, just...be careful with this Vision, okay?"

Wanda grimaces, looking at her brother in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Pietro sighs. "I know he's Tony's brother, and he seems decent, but... I don't know, he's a 21 guy who's in college. What does he want with a 17-year-old girl?"

Wanda sighs. "I'll be 18 in a few months..."

"I know." Pietro retorts. "It's just weird. Or maybe, I don't know, I'm being an overprotective brother."

She giggles. "I think it's the latter option." She comments, and Pietro smiles.

"Whatever." He murmurs, and waits for Wanda to get dressed before looking at her again. "I just want you to be happy, sestra."

Wanda smiles, moving closer to hug Pietro briefly. "I know, Pietro, thank you." He kisses the tip of her head, and they leave the room.

Nedelja 9:46 (Sunday 10:46 am)

Wanda was not surprised that her father turned that morning into an awkward time for everyone.

They were sitting at an outside table in a bakery two blocks from her house. Pietro managed to keep up a friendly conversation with his father for a while, telling him about school or the running team.

But it was like a time bomb that the subject came back to Wanda, and the impossible standards of perfection her father expected her to achieve.

"I hope you are maintaining the excellence required for NYU." Erik declares as he cuts a piece of cheese on his plate.

Wanda bites her tongue, resisting the urge to get up and leave that breakfast. Pietro clears his throat quietly.

"Papa, I-"

Erik holds up a finger, interrupting the boy with a small smile on his lips. "We've already talked about your academic life, Pietro. My business now is with your sister."

The boy swallows dryly, ducking his head. Wanda looks beyond the window, at the people walking around the street. And Erik speaks again in the background.

"[...] of course Harvard or Columbia would be acceptable options or risk something in Europe like Oxford or Cambridge, but we have to consider that-Wanda!" Erik slaps the table, and the girl jumps in fright, turning her attention back to her father. "I'm talking to you!"

Pietro places a hand over hers under the table. Erik sighs, pulling himself together. She stares at him, "I'm all ears." She replies, releasing Pietro's hand and drawing it into her own lap again. "What do you want me to say?"

Erik culls a piece of cheese with his gaze burning with anger. He swallows, and retorts:

"I'm still the head reference person at your school." He says. "They notify me that you got a bad grade. Nothing to affect your record, yet..."

She snorts indignantly. "Are you policing me?" She questions angrily, and Erik locks his jaw.

"Don't raise your voice at me." He retorts seriously, pointing a finger in her direction. "I pay for everything, I never leave a single thing missing for you two, and what do you want to do in return? Throw your future away! I let you act like a spoiled brat, give away your precious freedom to sully the name of this family. Running away from your responsibilities to the school, to our faith! Erik accuses angrily. "Let you behave like an ungrateful child!"

"Papa, enough, please!" Pietro interferes, watching the way Wanda has shrunk into the seat and looks on the verge of tears.

Their father takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He takes a long sip of coffee, and a few closer customers steal glances at the table.

"I'm sorry for losing my temper." Erik says calmer, pressing his hands together in front of his body. "You both know how hard your mother and I fought to earn what we have today. I just want you to have better opportunities. That you don't waste your potential. Hobbies and worldly pleasures can come later. In moderation, of course." Erik offers his son a wink, and Wanda wants to throw up. For Pietro, the son, it's fine to encourage him to enjoy life. For the daughter? Wanda couldn't even imagine her father saying anything of the sort to her. Be happy daughter. Have fun. Sounds ridiculous.

Erik orders tea for them, and Wanda keeps looking between the window and her own lap. Her father drinks a little before trying to sound more casual:

"How was the Shabbat?"

Pietro smiles awkwardly. "It was quiet, I rested." Says the boy, getting a smile from his father.

"Did you say your prayers?" Pietro agrees, and Erik's attention falls on Wanda again. His jaw quivers, but he keeps his voice calm. "What about you, sweetheart?"

Wanda looks him in the eye. "I got drunk, broke into a house, and made out with a girl."

Erik blinks and then bursts into laughter, the real thing, tears welling up in his eyes. Pietro laughs too, a little more restrained. They both think it's a joke, and Wanda swallows dryly.

"I've missed your sense of humor dear." Erik comments as he calms down. "A little harsh, but always funny." Wanda sighs not knowing what to say next. Erik sips more tea, before commenting. "Speaking of this subject, I have an invitation for you. Next week, we are having a Bar-Mitzvah at my house. Lorna is turning 12 and-"

"No." Wanda interrupts, ignoring the gentle squeeze Pietro gives her wrist. Erik raises an eyebrow. But unlike the entire breakfast, he looks almost sad.

"Honey, I'd like to have you two there." He gently insists. "Even Natalya would be welcome."

"How kind of you, isn't that papa? Inviting the ex-wife to the bastard's Bar-Mitzvah?"

Erik slams the table, but this time Wanda doesn't back down, her gaze irritated like her father's. "Don't you dare talk to me like that!"

"I would rather not talk to you at all!"

"Wanda, please..." Pietro tries to appease but Erik laughs wryly, shaking his head.

"You're impossible, Wanda, I swear." He declares, pulling out his wallet from inside his jacket. He pulls out some change from there, which he throws on the table in front of her. " For the bus. I don't want to see your face today any longer."

"Papa!" Pietro complains, but Wanda is already getting up, ignoring the money on the table. Pietro grabs the notes and follows his sister out while Erik continues drinking his tea. He catches up with her at the corner of the bakery. "Wanda, wait, please."

"I'm walking home, Pietro, leave me alone." She retorts with her arms crossed, and the twin rushes to stand in her way, his hands on her shoulders.

"Please, he didn't mean it. You two-"

Wanda pushes his hands away. "It's so easy for you to take his side, isn't it?" She shouts impatiently. "It's not your life that's falling apart."

Pietro laughs surprised by her aggressiveness. "Come on, I'd hardly call a scholarship at a university falling apart-"

"It's not what I want!" Wanda interrupts him, tears of frustration in her eyes. He is completely surprised. "But I don't think that matters to anyone."

Pietro steps forward. "Hey, but you always said you'd be a doctor..."

"Because papa wanted that." Wanda murmurs tearfully. "Fuck, what difference does it make now, it's senior year already." She says, wiping away the falling tears. "I need to be alone Pietro, I'm sorry." She pulls aside before he can touch her, and the twin calls out to her, but she doesn't look back.

–//–

Ponedeljek 10:30 (Monday 10:30 am)

Loud heavy metal music was playing in Wanda's headphones from the exit of the history class to the cafeteria. Maybe that's why she didn't hear you call out, and was startled when you held her shoulders.

You chuckle, lowering your hands as she takes the headphones off. "Sorry for the scare." You asked, looking at her in a weird way. Wanda swallowed dryly, staring at you doubtfully.

"Do you need anything?"

You blinked hesitantly at the aggressiveness but still smiled.

"Yeah...I think I'm still blocked, and it is hard to ask you out like that."

Wanda's stomach did a whole turn, and she felt her eyes burn. You acted so casual about everything, you were so happy.

"Sorry, I think you got it wrong." The words came out before Wanda could think them through completely. You frown in confusion, "I'm not interested."

She makes mention of leaving, but you don't move from your seat. "You gave me a different idea on Saturday, you know? You were the one who kissed me." Your tone was not loud, yet Wanda looked around as if everyone in the school was listening and judging that conversation.

She lifted her chin. "I was drunk."

"Wanda, come on..." You try to touch her and she pushes at your notebook, knocking the item to the floor. You sigh.

"You got me drunk and made me break into a house. And then you grabbed me. I could go to the police."

You stare at her, and the confusion turns to hurt. Wanda wants to take it all back, but you shake your head, pick up the notebook from the floor, and stare at her. "Get your shit together before you go around using other people, Maximoff." You spit it out, turning your back on her.

Wanda, with her eyes filled with tears, turns her face toward you. "Whatever, dyke."

A few people stare, but no one says anything. You stop walking, and Wanda bites her lips to hold back a sob.

"Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn’t-" She gasps, but you adjust your bag on your shoulder and disappear into the next crowd of students.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #skamverse collection #alt er love series #yellow curtains

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vinetae · 2 years

Text

Try (M) Chapter 7:

"Let's go somewhere a little more quiet.."

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Poly!AU, Boyfriend!Jimin

Pairings: Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung, Jimin x Reader, Jimin x Jungkook

Warnings: ...

Summary: Finally, things had been official.

You're officially fucked..

<-Previous Chapter

A/n: I kind of got writer's block for this one, because there were so many good ways to start this new chapter of their lives! Also, someone had pointed out to me that it didn't have much dialogue (for that I'm really sorry because I'm a big introvert and I have really REALLY awkward conversations most of the time.) So I've always just stuck to describing the scenery and hoping that the readers can fill in the dialogue but sadly not lmao. As always, Enjoy!

ALSO- OKAY THIS FUCKING TAEHYUNG WITH THIS HALSEY SONG IS- HOLY SHIT IMMA WRITE AN ONESHOT FOR THIS IT'S WAY TOO GOOD HOLY FUCKING FUCKING HELL- it makes ME WANNA FUCK AND BEAT THE SHIT OUTTA SOMEONE ARBAJFHJHWEW

Without Me - Halsey

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Ticks of the clock echo through the silent room. Abandoned topics that were going to be brought up, long have fizzled out from this crazy fire between the four of you. A long pause, followed by a sigh breaking the silence.

“So.” Jimin stands, handing out pamphlets to everyone, including you.

“What’s this?” Taehyung questions, flipping through the booklets pages.

Co-Relationship consent Form:

Agreements: Said partner(s) agrees to the following

No sexual interactions between any parties sha’ll happen with allowment of consent from Party A.

Party B, C, and D should follow all set rules Party A has placed.

No alcohol, drugs, or any types of substances are permitted when in contact -whether physical or electronically- near or around Party B without given consent to do so.

All sex is to be safe, sane and consensual.

Condoms and lubrication are to be used impeccably for all penetrative sex.

Get tested every 3-6 months for HIV, Gonorrhea, Syphilis, and Chlamydia, Trich and ask

for throat and anal swabs. Get visual tests for MCV and HPV. Share your results.

Party B must get Paps once a year to test for HPV and to detect pre-cancerous cell growth which can be better treated if caught early.

There is discussion with full disclosure about safe sex practices before engaging in sex with any first time partners or if it has been a while since you have slept with that partner.

No sexual activities are to occur when one or more parties have consumed more than 0.10 ounces of alcohols of any kinds.

Do not have sex during an active STD.

Taehyung lets out a chuckle, not believing what he’s been handed. “Did you really print out a contract for each of us to fuck?”

Jimin nods, face lacking any hints of a measly joke. “If we’re gonna do this, we’d better do it as safely as possible.” His eyes fixate on yours, who’d been meticulously reading and reviewing the papers. “Y/n, Are you okay with all of this?” Your eyes glance up to finally meet him. A quick nod is all the confirmation Taehyung needs to sign his name on the dotted lines.

“So what if Taehyung and I wanna fuck?” A smirk curls Jimin's lips.

“You’d have to ask me.”

Jungkook chuckles, not fully reading the atmosphere of the room. No way. “I have to ask my friend if I can fuck my boyfriend?” Jimin nods, an evil disposition never leaves his expressions. “‘I'm the head of this operation. You try any of that shit you pulled earlier,” He takes a glance to you, sending chills down your spine.

“You’d get punished.”

“Well what if Jungkook wanted to fuck you, hyung” Taehyung nonchalantly asks, as if he’s suggesting for a little more bulgogi sauce for the marinating meats. Jimin lets out a dark chuckle. “You guys still don’t get it, do you? I’m in charge here. Nothing gets past, put in, or taken out without my consent.” You all silently nod. Your eyes never leave Jungkook’s nervous frame. He licks the pads of his lips, a shimmering glisten to them sits atop.

“Wait..What’s this in section 5?” You all -except Jimin- go to the suggested page.

“We all have to go out on a date each week?”

~~ ~ ~ ~

“Red … or white?” Your eyes swish back and forth between the two set outfits your boyfriend had suggested. You quietly mumble, contemplating which one to choose. “Red ..” You hold the two piece glittering dress across your frame. The cinched sides would fit perfectly around your own. Spaghetti straps sitting atop your narrow shoulders would just be heavenly. The deep blood-stained satin, made for purposefully easy access. The white garment however, had a slight modest tone to it. Cream colored one piece wrap dress that would accentuate your doll-like looks and innocent features. Black stilettos to adorn such scandalous ways. Still, nonetheless raunchy as could be. Why would he choose such a revealing outfit?

“You almost ready, babe?” he calls from inside the small shared closet. He stepped out to reveal a black satin and suede suit, draping perfectly over a cream colored button up that had matched the color of your own dress. His newly dyed locks still had the red tint to it, making his look all the more expensive. Champagne toussels fall effortlessly in front of his eyes, not a natural root in sight. He’d always loved dying his hair all kinds of crazy colors. Ever since he'd met Taehyung and Jungkook around 4 years ago, they’d always been doing some sort of crazy new hair combos with each other.

You’re quickly pulled from memory lane, and reminded that you were supposed to leave 15 minutes ago.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Wow..” had been the first thing either one of the boys had said. Taehyung’s jaw had dropped around 3 levels, while Jungkook’s eyes went as large as they do in cartoons. Both men stood undoubtedly shocked by how well you’d clean up.

“Come on you two, don’t wanna droll on the ship’s deck” Jimin teases, while wrapping his arm in yours, before pulling all four of you to the entrance.

“Jimin.. Isn’t this a little much for a first date..?” He chuckles, rubbing your arm cutely. “Relax hun, this is for work. They’re supposed to be announcing all of the promotions and salary raises tonight.” Jimin had been working in corporate work for around 3 years or so. They’re all about skincare and cosmetics. He said the first few months were hell. Running around like chicken little, getting everyone everything they needed. Now, being the COO of nyuskeen cosmetics, he’d never have to go back to fetching someone’s coffee again.

The music suddenly starts an uproar of claps and cheers, as you all fixate on a man in his early 60s coming forth to the microphone. Once the cheers settle, he begins his speech.

“First of all, I want to thank each and every one of our very dedicated and hard-working crew members for making this dream of mine come true. Why, it feels like just the other day I had been in my grandmother’s bathroom, as she showed me the facial cleanser her and pap had been working on for so many years. Thanks to all of you wonderful individuals, Nyuskeen has been up and running for over 35 years!”

His statement makes the claps and cheers once more resume. You glance around, seeing Jungkook leaning up against the ship’s column, holding a gold-decorated wine glass in hand. His maroon black and white suit had been the apple of your eyes tonight. The toffee hair tint accentuates his brown orbs perfectly. His natural black roots had already been peeking through, which had only intensified his looks tonight.

Pinch yourself, Y/n. You must be fucking dreaming. No way these god-like men are seriously yours!

A soft whisper pulls you from your thoughts. “This is getting boring” Taehyung softly hints to you. You chuckle, placing your palm gently on his bicep. No way no way I’m being allowed to do this!!

You catch a small boxy grin creeping up his features, as his opposite wide hand comes to rest on top of your own. His true eyes had been covered up by some gray contact lenses which had matched his deep moss green blazer perfectly. The golden emblemed gucci belt and white button down shirt - which had already been undone about two notches down- left almost nothing up to the imagination. His lips, suddenly dangerously close to your own. The music was barely audible now, as both eyes had been screening a movie only you two could understand. His hot breaths roll down the sides of your cheeks, a large forearm coming to snake its way around your frame. Faces just inches away from what would be such a magical time.

“Y/n..” Your lips barely brush against each other, before the sound of fireworks boom from behind you both. Startled, you quickly pull away to find the other two men that had accompanied you tonight, watching from the shadows whilst sipping on a deep blood-hued concoction. Taehyung glances over to Jimin, a silent nod is given to the younger for permission. His eyes lock abc with yours.

“Let’s go somewhere a little more quiet.”

_________________________________________________________

Next Chapter ->

Comment or message me if you'd like to be added/removed from my taglist ♥

©sweethearthigh 2022. Do not copy, translate, or modify my works with given consent from me. Thank You <333

#bts #bts kim taehyung #jeon jungkook smut #park jimin smut #bts poly!au #bts maknae line x reader #bts maknae line poly!AU #jjk #pjm #bts masterlist #jeon jungkook #park jimin #kim taehyung

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potterandpromises · 9 months

Text

sorry for not winning you an arcade ring: chapter 6

Mabel and Theo’s art gallery date get together. [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5]

Also on AO3

(Picks up one day after the last chapter, in the evening.)

At the gallery, the staring is no worse then it was right after all the Bloody Mabel crap.

Low murmurs hush as her and Theo pass and, absurdly, she worries if anyone guesses this whole engagement is a sham. They aren't holding hands. They definitely didn't great each other with a kiss at the door. Nothing, they agreed, was needed to sell the relationship, because no one would ever do what they're doing now. At worst, people will sense something is off and assume they're in a fight or unhappy together.

(At worst, people will know they’re bad for each other.)

For some promotion or other, someone gives them each a glass of champagne, which strikes Mabel as shortsighted given they're in a building full of easily harmed works of art. But, what does she know.

She downs hers. Theo takes a tiny sip of his— possibly even a stage sip— and hands it off to her.

They wonder down the hall, stiff and awkward under the attention. Next to Theo in his burgundy sweater, Mabel feels highly overdressed in her aunt's clothes.

Something catches Theo's gaze, and she follows it to a large canvas, painted with varied shades of violet, magenta, midnight blue. They're barely blended, split like a cracked galaxy.

She catches his eye. “When I was little," he signs, "my dad would tell me: ‘Theo, if you keep looking down— you’re going to get robbed.’”

By his playful smile, it's a joke. She does not find it funny. "Looking at what?"

"S-I-D-E-W-A-L-K," he fingerspells, "C-R-A-C-K-S."

"Oh." It's curious, how she saw the sky and he saw the ground. "Show me?"

It repeats it slowly. "Sidewalk."

"Sidewalk." The flapping motion is as fun as it looks, though somewhat dampened by the middle-aged women to Mabel's right openly staring at them. "And, C-X-A-C-K?"

Theo smiles, like she's done something wrong but she sure is cute about it

She frowns. "What did I do?"

He reaches out, takes her hand in his. Gently, he turns her palm skywerd, and traces an R into her skin. Heat flushes through her, settles low.

"R," he signs, and still holds her other hand. It takes her several seconds longer then it should to realize it is not what she just signed. "You signed" —he traces an X into her too receptive palm— "X."

She nods, throat dry.

"C-R-A-C-K," he continues. "Crack."

"Crack."

Mabel makes eye contact with the staring women, makes her look away.

She turns back to Theo.

"How..." She meant to ask sooner, had wanted to. But when she heard about the sentencing, she couldn’t decide if she was the last person on earth he’d want to see or the only one who’d ask. And besides, she didn't have his phone number. She thought about showing up anyway, his coat tucked under her arm. Of course, she hadn't.

She isn't sure she should ask now, if she should touch the nerve. If it were entirely off limits, though, she figures he wouldn't have mentioned his dad in the first place.

“How are you doing since…” she doesn't have the right signs for 'prison sentence' and lets her hands hover, turn like a visual throat clearing, "with your dad."

Theo stiffens. Neither of them say anything, although not for lack of wanting. The seconds stretch, hang out in the air between them.

"We talk sometimes, and it's fine. I know he loves me," he leans into the word 'love' like a hug, "but I think prison might be the right amount of distance for us."

She has no idea how to respond to that; in sign, out load, over text message, on paper. Her father's absence pricks like a half healed wound most days. She can't imagine needing him to be removed from society, gone.

Someone clears their throat. Loudly.

It's the same women from earlier. Mabel gives her the stink eye as they collect their glasses and shuffle away.

The gallery has a few benches, but she's genuinely unsure if they are in fact serviceable pieces of furniture and not art that should really be roped off. They find an unoccupied corner, sit on the floor instead. She finishes Theo’s champagne.

He holds her gaze. “I spent whole years just waiting for something to change.”

She nods. “Me too.”

Sort of. Theo had waited for the other shoe to drop. Mabel had waited to feel better, to feel like the past was actually past, without entirely wanting it to. She’d waited for Tim to have a change of heart, to confess what he saw.

Theo pulls out his phone and begins to type.

Across the room, a couple, both about 30 years old, share a kiss under a portrait of a Cocker Spaniel balancing an apple on it's head. Are their lives secretly as complicated as hers and Theo's are? For their sakes, she hopes not. She hopes their lives are as easy as they look tonight, and that they have a dog just like that one.

Theo hands her his phone. It's open to the notes app; one paragraph.

I never wanted to go to jail (shocker.) But I want you to know that I did feel bad for Oscar and at times I did want to confess. There was no way to implicate myself without implicating my dad, for threatening Tim and probably for everything else. I could never do that, but I always believed we’d be caught eventually (he didn’t.) It was a relief in a way, not to have to hide everything all the time. I just never thought he'd be punished and I'd basically get away with it.

Mabel looks over at Theo's shoes, his nice shoes, ankle devoid of a monitor.

"We were children," she signs. 'Kid' is something else, but she can't remember what.

"Yeah."

"He wasn't."

"Yeah."

He looks down, keeps her in his sight line. She turns half her attention to the meandering gallery patrons and accidentally makes eye contact with an older man in a fur coat. They both look away.

Theo leans against the wall, one leg outstretched in their little alcove, the other a curved arch where he rests one hand. She'll paint him again, just like this. It's only a matter of time.

She taps his knee. "We can leave, if you want.”

He shakes his head. “Only if you want to."

"No." She doesn't. She wants to stay with him.

He leans forward, pears around the corner at the current of people and the walls patterned with canvases. "Show me something interesting?"

He'd liked that abstract painting, so they get up and she looks for abstract, wonders absently if the hotel artwork in his apartment is by preference or if it just came with the place.

She touches his shoulder. "What about with W-I-L-L?"

"It's better." She can't tell if he means his relationship with Will is better then with his dad, or if he just means it's better then it was.

"We've texted a little. Neither of us really know what to say to each other." At random, they stop in front of a black and white something-or-other. "But we both want to try."

She nods. It's not an insignificant decision, to try.

“Thoughts?" She gestures at the painting.

He considers it, smirks. “I see dead people.”

A smile pulls at her lips. She narrows her eyes.

“You might not like it,” he leans in conspiratorially, just far enough away that he can still sign, “but that joke would have killed at mortuary school.“

There’s a teasing glint in his blue, blue eyes, and laughter bubbles in Mabel’s chest despite herself. “That’s not a good joke, just so you know.”

He flashes a lopsided grin, and Mabel wants him. Stupid jokes, complicated family, and all.

Tonight, she has him.

The gallery is full of weird beautiful things and some other winery is giving out more free samples. A few people try to ruin it all with their stupid questions but she doesn't let them. It's real, whatever her and Theo have, even if it's only real to them.

Even if it only exists for a few more days.

#only murders in the building #omitb #mabel mora #theo dimas #fanfiction #my fanfic tag #fic: sorry for not winning you an arcade ring #theobel

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pikapeppa · 11 months

Note

Hi pikapeppa ! 👋😊

I'm a huge fan of your work, so I wanted to ask you something, if it's okay, of course...! ❤️

I know that most people, when they're writing, often have a global idea of what they are going to do but ...

Before you write, do you imagine a scene completely unfold in your head first, then write it down ( with, I guess, a few modifications, of course )

Or you just go with the flow and write with only a vague idea of where you're going, the moment you sit down behind your desk ?

I ask this because, I do the latter and it really is killing my focus. I keep going back and forth between being in the zone and being distracted when I do that. But I'm also afraid that doing the former will kill my creativity in the long-term, I don't know why ...😐😢

It's very abstract, so I hope I managed to express myself clearly ...!😅

Take care ! 😘

You're a great writer ❤️❤️❤️

Hiiiii sweet friend!! 🥰 I’m so sorry it took so long to reply to this!! The reply is a bit long, so I'll put it behind a cut!

This is a great question — and my answer is that it depends! Sometimes there will be a very specific scene that I’ve imagined in detail, e.g. how a first kiss/first sex scene happens, or sometimes I have a very specific dialogue in mind that I want the scene to revolve around. When this is the case, the writing does involve fleshing out that imagined scene/dialogue and turning it into words. For example, I recently wrote a scene of Aloy and Kotallo slow-dancing, and I had a very specific mood in mind: this scene from Love Actually (but more horny LOL). So for the writing of that moment, I had that movie scene in my head, and I was trying to translate it from visuals and into words. To be honest, this is some of the writing that I find most challenging — how to turn something that’s so visually effective into something that’s just as effective in words!

But there are other times when I do sit down with only a vague idea of how I’m going to get to a certain point in the fic. For example, for Chapter 2 of Coming In On A Western Wind (Aloy/Avad), this is literally what I had in my outline for the second half of the chapter:

The night she leaves Varl behind, Aloy sneaks into Avad’s room and they have sex. He wants her to stay the night; she says she can’t, but she’ll stay until he falls asleep. He make a gentle joke that he’ll stay up all night, then. But inevitably, he falls asleep, and when he wakes up, she’s gone.

That’s really not much detail, which means I had to fill this in a lot without anything clear in mind. I had to figure out how Avad gets back to his room after dinner with the fam, then what he’s doing at the time that she sneaks in, then how they transition from her sneaking in to actually having sex — e.g. are they going to chat first? Would they just jump right in? And then the actual sex scene: I didn’t have anything specific in mind for what positions or sex acts they would engage in, so that was more flying by the seat of my pants. So for this chapter, I was kind of just going with the flow and going with the mood of the characters while letting them lead the conversation, rather than trying to transform a specific scene in my head into words. This kind of writing can be challenging, too, especially figuring out how to deal with transition moments, e.g. what Avad would be doing in his room before Aloy came. When I’m having trouble figuring out how to make those transitions happen, what I usually do is get up from my desk and go clean something in my apartment BAHAHA. For some reason, the getting-up and moving-around helps me find the solution more easily than when I’m staring at my screen! 😂

Most of my chapters involve both of these kinds of writing. There’s usually a specific significant moment/scene/dialogue that I want to hit in each chapter, but I don’t always (or even often!) have it clearly fleshed out how I’m going to get there. I’m more of a plotter than a pantser, though, so the way I deal with this is by point-form plotting out how I think I might get to that scene — nothing special, nothing fancy, just basically scribbling down ideas. Then, once I have those ideas written down, they form more of a “skeleton” for the flesh of the chapter that I can build up on. Each chapter often involves many cycles of jotting down point-form messy ideas, then fleshing them out, then repeating the cycle as the chapter progresses.

In terms of worrying that visualizing-then-writing will kill your creativity: hmm, it’s hard for me to comment on this, because everyone has different styles of writing, and what works for one person won’t work for someone else. Both styles of writing work for me, as I mentioned above, and I’m also admittedly a very “plotty” writer. But I have some friends who just know that if they were to plan too much, they’ll get overwhelmed or lose interest in the project, so flying by the seat of their pants or jumping around between scenes in their fic is what keeps their creative juices and motivation going.

Since you're finding that the "vague idea" route is killing your focus, I wonder if you might try the idea I mentioned earlier, about point-forming your ideas to flesh them out a little more before jumping in? It’s something of a compromise between plotting too much and being too vague, so it might give you just enough structure to help stay focused!

I’ve elaborated more on my process of writing a longfic here, though I think you might have already read that 😂🧡 but it explains in more detail about how I use outlines as a memory aid and to guide myself, and how I keep myself motivated while writing a really long project!

I hope this is helpful, lovely friend!! Happy writing!! 😘

-- love from your friendly neighbourhood Pika! xo

#pikapeppa tutors #kind of! 😂#fanfic writer's life

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faejilly · 1 year

Text

so like five years ago or something, (ugh, time), I started an epistolary fic for @pameluke that I have not updated in, well, several years. (brains! little fuckers are very uncooperative, what can I say?)

It subsequently became the most popular thing I've ever written by several of AO3's potential metrics, which is neat! But... pressure-ish? Regardless, it would be nice to actually, uh. Finish the damn thing someday.

And in the interests of getting the voices in my head to engage with it so I can finish, I am attempting to adapt some public workskins on ao3 into email & texting screens and I will (hopefully) be updating said fic with fun formatting whenever I do actually finish & post the last couple chapters.

BUT!

I have a visual/clarity question re: texts and group chats

Behind the cut for a slew of terrible screenshots! (In various zoom levels, so uh, apologies if you have to click on them to see wtf I'm trying to ask)

perhaps followed by a poll since I apparently have them now?!?

This is roughly what texting looks like currently, (and will still pretty much look if you turn off AO3 workskins and/or download the fic in an ebook format):

Now, the reason it says "Cat" on top, is because that's the contact name in the header of the phone screen, which currently looks like this:

Now, in the original draft Cat didn't say "Magnus" there, because his name was there in the label so I didn't need it. BUT, this is the first phone screen in the fic, so I figured I should include it for clarity.

Contextually, as the fic continues, I assume one will generally be able to tell who is texting whom, but I could, (even tho it would not be as phone-like) put in names so it's clearer:

which is also how I've been managing group-text/chat formats:

But it looks kind of weird when it's just two people talking back and forth. (It's not like my phone puts my name over my own texts, yk?)

Not having all the names might be confusing, but I CANNOT TELL ANYMORE? aesthetic vs clarity? SOMETHINGSOEMTHING?

The only real downside to just putting the names in is that it causes some weird spacing in the download/non-skin version, because the name tags are no longer visible but there is, afaik, no way to fit them in properly without leaving the space for them, if that makes sense:

ALTERNATIVELY, I could change the headers so they're informational rather than a visual part of the phone screen, for example, the first text up there would be something like "Magnus' Phone (texting Cat)" and then the group chats would be, idk, "Alec's Phone, The Hedge" etc. etc.

OR ALTERNATIVELY ALTERNATIVELY... I could do... something else that I haven't thought up yet? I guess? *shrug.emoji*

HELP ME TUMBLR, YOU'RE MY ONLY HOPE:

*for the options with a star, please do include suggestions as to how to accomplish that nonsense, k? 😅

With like, actual baby-steps, because I do not know what I'm doing. I was literally just trying to copypasta a skin and then I couldn't stop.

Like, sometimes the nametag on the right of the phone screen doesn't work and I haven't figured out why yet. I am having a similar problem with the phone screen headers not resizing on different screens, which is why they're not a contrasting color or bordered or anything at the moment, so you can't tell.

/It's still wrong though, and I know it, even if I can't see it. It's like my phone screen is judging me every time I look at them... 🤣🤣🤣

but regardless. If you've made it to the end of this post, I thank you. And I'm sorry?

Have a cookie: 🍪

#jilly spam #technical support #on the stuff that isn't writing #ao3 & css & graphic design oh my?#all things I know less than nothing about #whoops #iamforyoufic

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tea-with-veth · 1 year

Note

how to write fight scene???help?

Hi anon. Don't know if you're still around, but I've been ruminating on this since it landed in my inbox in February of 2021. And I'm finally sitting down to give you my tips. Sorry for the delay...of like..two years...

How to write fight scene:

Figure out what you need the scene to accomplish. Where do you want the characters to be when the scene ends? What's the goal? Is someone dead or injured? Does someone flee the battlefield? You can use that information to build the scene toward its desired end goal.

Determine a flow of action for the scene. This one is the hardest step and the one that always takes me the most time. What actually happens during the fight? Visualizing things (like it's a movie in your head) helps. When I get stuck I sit down and draw a storyboard, to help me keep track of the characters and figure out who goes where.

Use the environment to keep things interesting. Where is your fight happening? Use that imaginary space to make the battle dynamic. If they're in a forest, describe the characters vaulting over rocks or hiding behind trees. If they're in a castle, have them swordfight on a table. Maybe one character gets his sword knocked out of his hands and has to use improvisational tools around him, like a kitchen knife or a poker from a nearby fireplace.

The rule of badass moments. Include at least two or three badass moments per fight scene-- particularly if it's a big one. Try and give all the characters a minimum of one, and rotate between characters getting their moment in the spotlight. For instance, in the ultimate fight scene in my first fic, and as he fell (you walked away), I have five characters on the battlefield: George, Sapnap, and Bad all fighting Techno, and Dream who is incapacitated. Each gets a badass moment-- George shoots Techno in the hand, Sapnap charges in from behind with a fallen sword, Bad does a feint where he drops his sword and instead stabs with a stiletto, Techno gains the upper hand and almost strangles Bad to death, and Dream comes in with a big last-minute rescue by stabbing him from the back. There's the connective tissue between each of these moments, but these badass moments give the fight structure.

The rule of suspense. Keep your fight scene interesting by making it seem like your protagonist might lose. Don't be afraid to let them get beat up, fear losing, or have to fight for the upper hand. It's tempting to make your hero an invincible badass, but they're going to be at their most engaging when you don't know what will happen. Plus, it will make your fight more active.

Get in the head of your protagonist. If they're an experienced fighter, they're going to observe the fight more clearly, notice more details, and keep their emotions from overwhelming their ability. You could show this by revealing their thought process, showing more environmental details, and using full sentences. If they're less experienced, or more emotional, you could show that by making things more choppy and confusing, to reflect what the experience is like from their eyes.

Pay attention to pace and flow. In my fic the words of an emperor (verba amici) I open with a fight between Technoblade and Philza when they first meet. In order to give the fight momentum, I use sentence fragments, sentences cut short, and long run-on sentences in combination to give the whole fight a stream-of-consciousness feeling. That way, even though the fight takes up a decent chunk of the chapter, it feels fast-paced and urgent. Communicating that sense of speed and momentum can make your scene more intense!

Ultimately, this advice will help you write a fun, though formulaic, Hollywood-style fight scene. I recommend watching movie clips or imagining your fight over and over again, letting it play out in your mind's eye. You can always mix and match recommendations as you see fit. I hope that this is at least a little bit helpful! Thanks for the question anon :)

#hi anon #if you're still out there #thanks for the question #I had fun ruminating on it for two years #teahound talks

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junii-moony · 1 year

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Seeing as you only know what Anna looks like, would you like to tell me your interpretation on how characters look?

Wooooooooo okay... Now this'll be fun! (I'll list them by earliest appearance in the chapter summaries) note: my insane interpretations on what these characters look like is exactly as advertised, insane. double note: i will be adding visuals for some of these characters, so this'll be a mess of text and random images Starting with the MC, Arlet. I'll be honest, I have no clue. With a Fire Emblem MC you can never be sure what they'll look like.

Reinhold definitely gave off Vander from Engage vibes, but like a Vander who didn't age well. A slightly scary Vander (if that makes sense).

For Hewe, my immediate thought was Ky Kiske from Guilty Gear, but a younger Ky. Bit more energetic as well.

Kester, and hear me out. Reminds me of Shulk from Xenoblade (specifically his XC2 design, but imagine he has black hair). Take away his Monado, replace it with a lance and give him a "Fire Emblem" attire and boom!

Fletcher (like most archer-type characters) made me think of Juniper from Xenoblade. Take away the cat ear things and they'd fit right in with the "Fire Emblem" aesthetic (aside from the outfit).

Mary is just Aerith from Final Fantasy. Need I say more?

Hal is... i actually have no idea.

Niall feels like Raven from Guilty Gear, obviously not as weird and emo and old as Raven, but design-wise Raven fits the "thief" aesthetic.

Condor is another one of those "I have no clue" characters.

Laura was easy (and hear me out). Konoe (or Nine) from Blazblue. She definitely fits the whole "dark mage" thing (although she is a little scary looking) ((plus every Fire Emblem game has a fanservice character, here you go)).

Gareth being a brawler immediately made me think of Akihiko from Persona (with a shirt on of course).

Jaspar is another "I don't know" characters.

Harsent gave off Zelda from- duh. Specifically her BOTW design. Zelda just looks like she'd ride a pegasus.

Sparrow being a "bad guy" made me think of Gaol from Kid Icarus (although Gaol's design is a lil over the top for Fire Emblem standards).

Ricon just makes me think of Robin. Being an elemental mage, I can imagine him flipping through different tomes and whatnot, so my mind jumped to Robin (forgive me for using the Smash render).

Kaen is another idk character.

Lily being a light mage made me think of Mythra from Xenoblade (obviously a "toned-down" design but the point still stands).

Alastor feels like an N from Pokemon (don't ask couldn't explain).

Balsinde I also don't know.

Raven being a dark knight made me jump to Zelgius. Not much besides that.

Adam is just Akechi from Persona, tell me I'm wrong.

Finch (despite just being Alastor) is N... but with a hat! (can't even tell it's him).

Lucille is one of those "I have no clue because they're related to the MC" situations Okay that's not every character but I've taken long enough getting this out, so this'll do for now.

note: sorry for the long wait, got a handful of stuff going on lol

double note: again these insane ideas are insane so don't take them too seriously lol. i just take a character's personality and match it with another. adam is a good example, he's just insane, so i thought of akechi. stuff like that.

#enjoy my insane ramblings

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valewright67 · 2 years

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How is school going?

Better than I thought it might, actually.

My English professor is a very nice Trans woman who does slam poetry. She was absolutely delighted to learn I wrote fanfics and, on occasion, my own poetry.

My ASL teacher is a very sweet deaf woman, who screamed with delight and hugged me when she found out I had synesthesia. Which. Out of all the reactions I was expecting, that was not one of them.

I'm a little annoyed with my fingerspelling teacher. But that one is online, so I'm annoyed with the class in general. I'd really wanted in person. (I'll go on that tangent in a minute.) But hey, even if she dumps quite a work load on us right off the bat, at least she tries to engage a little bit.

And then there's math. I desperately wanted math in person, because I struggle with it. A lot. But instead I had to do online. So I'm annoyed at that. But THEN. It's entirely self taught??

Like. I'm essentially just given some materials and told to figure it out.

I sort through what's relevant in the chapter.

I figure out what notes to take.

I practice what I GUESS I need to practice.

I do the assignment best I can.

It's graded by the computer.

Rinse, repeat.

If I should have a question, I either figure it out myself, find something online, or send an email to my professor. Emails can take HOURS to go back and forth, if I'm stuck, what am I supposed to do for that time?

So why does the class cost $400 ish dollars? Why can't I just buy the $40 materials, WHICH I HAD TO BUY ALSO, since I'm doing all the work? Granted, my scholarships covered most of the cost, but it is the PRINCIPLE of the matter, yknow?? Ugh

AND THEN THERES THE WAY I WAS LIED TO??

I'm so bitter that I'm a hybrid student! Because I asked and asked and asked!

"Is this major available in person?"

"Yes, absolutely!"

"All the classes?"

"Mhm!"

"Will it be available at the campus 20 miles away in the next town over?"

"Yep, deaf studies is offered at all our campuses!"

"Great!"

AND THEN

"Well actually, we're slowly transitioning to having this major entirely online."

"...are you, now?"

"Yes. So some of your classes will be online."

"...how many?"

"Half of them!"

"Which ones?"

"Fingerspelling and math."

"Fingerspelling. Which is a visual learning class. And math. Which is the subject I struggle with the most. Will be online?"

"Yes."

"Ok... when are the set virtual lectures?"

"There aren't any, it's entirely independent study! You have due dates on assignments though."

"Ok... well at least it's still in the next town over, so I can drive over pretty easily if I need some help from a tutor?"

"Oh, no, sorry, deaf studies is now offered only at our main campus, in the state campus, almost 70 miles from where you live!"

"...Yall fucking liars."

So yes, I have to commute that a couple times a week for the classes I do have in person, because there was no way I was doing entirely online when I KNOW I struggle with that. And I'm pissed? But there's also no other option? Because it's the only school in my state outside of fucking VEGAS - 415 MILES AWAY, MIND YOU - that offers this major. And I can't go to like. Cali next door, even if it DID offer those closer - it doesn't, by the way, and there's none nearby, I'd have to live with a relative in Redding or something - none of my scholarships would work outside of my state.

So?? I'm so irritated?? I'm not even a week in, and college already feels like a scam?? But I still need to do college so UGH, FUCK

#hello again #another bit of rant #im in a better place this time.#no longer ACTIVELY breaking down #just irritated #disgruntled if you will

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

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CREDO: Chapter 4 - 'Of prisons and pirates'

Summary: Matt thought that the war between The Hand and The Chaste was the little big secret shaping his reality. Turns out, there is a much greater and older conflict hiding in plain sight - one in which he is thrown against his will. Against every fiber of his morality, Matt has to befriend the exact type of person he hates the most: an assassin. [Marvel's Daredevil x Assassin's Creed]

Author's note: This hasn't been updated in literal ages. Sorry for that

[ 'CREDO' MASTERLIST ]

[Introduction]

[Chapter 1 - 'Rest without peace, Leonard Dyson']

[Chapter 2 - 'A thing or two about Kenways and Fryes']

[Chapter 3 - 'Close encounters of the rooftop kind']

Karen and Foggy were going mad trying to dissuade Matt from visiting the prisoner.

"You don't know what he's capable of!" Foggy said. Although his statement was quite vague, it carried more meaning than one might have thought: Cole Fitzgerald-Frye was arrested only recently for a murder that had happened over a decade ago. What no one seemed to question, quite curiously, were the unclear and largely unknown circumstances under which the said arrest and imprisonment had happened. After all, who was to say that he didn't let himself get arrested?

The way Matt became so engaged in a case that had, seemingly, nothing to do with him, was infuriating to Karen and Franklin. Not only did the law firm not do well in terms of business but Matt decided to conduct a murder investigation, on his own, without any prospect of payment but wasting away the valuable time he could use for actual clients. In the best-case scenario, he will uncover the truth and live out his retirement on government riches. The thing was that Matt wasn't the luckiest man on Earth, quite far from that truthfully and the possibility of somebody trying to kill him was, currently, double the regular amount, which was already high.

From the moment Matt opened the door, Cole stared at him with a watchful gaze worthy of a hawk. Those old, grey eyes followed the young lawyer and each of his movements, taking in the smallest of details. Even though he was well into his fifties, Cole Fitzgerald-Frye never lost the sharpness of his senses or mind. Matt could only assume the man he was about to talk to was anything but stupid, considering how he managed to avoid a prison sentence for over a decade. Murdock couldn't know that, as it was a purely visual piece of information but Cole's skin was completely clean aside from scars that were clearly fairly old: whatever menaces of violence and hierarchy resided inside prison walls, they couldn't get their grasp on that middle-aged man.

"You got ten minutes," the guard warned Matt before closing the door.

"Good morning Mr.Frye, my name is Matt Murdock, I'm a lawyer. I'm here to speak to you about your daughter, Taliya?" Matt was sitting across from Cole, with hands on the table, fingers intertwined. For some reason, the prison wasn't handcuffed despite no divider of any kind keeping him away from the visitor.

"Is she in trouble, Mr.Murdock?" Cole spoke fast and in a higher tone. When it came to his only daughter, Mr.Frye was gravely serious, not to mention horribly worried. Or could it, possibly, be just a facade? A performance worthy of an Oscar? Matt wondered for a moment how a man speaking with a Northern English accent ended up tried and imprisoned in the USA but those were thoughts he could entertain later in the day and so he let them drift away to the back of his mind.

"I'm afraid she might be, that is why I came to see you. You are her father, after all, Mr.Frye, and your word might hold up in court. Does the name Leonard Dyson mean anything to you?"

"Dyson as in Dyson&Dyson, the motorboat company?" he asked. Cole's eyebrows furrowed and their single grey hairs became more prominent in the white light of the room.

"Yes, Leonard Dyson was the CEO of Dyson&Dyson. He had unfortunately passed away recently and some circumstantial evidence points in the direction of miss Frye." Matt's lie rolled off his tongue swiftly as if he had rehearsed it in front of a mirror. The prisoner knew that.

Cole rested his back against the chair and stared at the ceiling, thinking intensely about something. His breathing was calm, never suggesting that the confrontation was anxiety-inducing or that some form of anger begged him to take advantage of the disabled lawyer left to his mercy. The thought that Cole Fitzgerald-Frye was a completely sane man and a bloodthirsty maniac seemed, somehow, a lot more frightening; it was an occasion, a certain fall of dominos, that made a murderer and not a birth defect that the majority of the world gloated in not having. After all, how could people ever feed their egos if it turned out that everyone is a potential killer? How else would they draw the line between themselves and the worse sort?

"No, I don't believe she has ever said anything about a Leonard Dyson," he answered while gently shooking his head. "She doesn't even like boats," Cole added with a chuckle. Matt returned a polite smile.

"What about the 'Green Dragon of the West'? Has Taliya ever expressed any interest in the occult or East Asian traditions or superstitions?"

"Well, she used to do tai chi with her mother and watched those Chinese cartoons every morning before school, if that counts? Taliya is the kind of girl that questions everything. No charlatan can win her heart."

If anyone who actually knows Taliya listened to their conversation, they would assume right away that the woman Cole was talking about was somebody else entirely. Mr.Frye was the king of spinning a yarn, something Matt was going to learn a little too late.

"Now, Mr.Frye, could you tell me about the murders from May 2005?"

A silence fell between the two men. To Matt's surprise, he couldn't discern any significant changes in the prisoner's breathing or heartbeat - he was as steady as they come. Perhaps that's what had allowed him to remain at large for over ten years.

"I thought this was about Taliya, Mr. Murdock." A slight change in Cole's voice betrayed his growing suspicion.

"It is, Mr.Frye. If a district attorney opens a trial against miss Frye, they could use your case against your daughter, to prove that she was capable of committing murder but we could use it in our favour to get the jury on our side."

Cole furrowed his eyebrows, leaned forward and put his hands on the table, fingers intertwined. He stared at Matt's face for a while, studying. Truth be told, they were committing the very same activity only through different devices: both relied on their exceptional senses to catch the suppressed emotions of the other person.

"My father was a wise man, Mr.Murdock. He used to say 'give life and hope to those who deserve it but forgiveness and death to those who don't'. I didn't do it out of hate but out of love - love for freedom and hope, a better and safer world for generations to come. The only difference between me and a soldier is a green tracksuit and bad coping mechanisms." This was, probably, the only honest thing Cole had said throughout the meeting.

"Would you say, mister Frye, that Taliya agreed with you? Do you think that she could be capable of killing someone?"

"I told you, mister Murdock, she's a smart kid. She would never agree with either of us. I'm too brutal and you're too rigid." Cole laughed in a hoarse voice. "You see, Matt- Can I call you Matt? Well, I already did, too late. So, Matt," Cole stressed the fraternization and stared at the lawyer's face for a moment to see his reaction. Matthew remained unmoved. "A great man once said that we're all capable of murder. All it takes are the right conditions. The mentality, the emotions, the motive, the occasion...The question is, how strong does the push have to be? Is there a formula to estimate that? Answering your question - yes, I do believe my little Taliya would be capable of killing someone. We all are. The question you should be asking yourself, Matt, is whether she was pushed strong enough to actually do it."

As Matt was leaving the room, a guardsman entered, ready to escort Cole back to his cell. The prisoner, however, was not entirely done attending to his business.

"Officer, can I make a phone call?" He asked. The guard stared into him emotionlessly for a moment before answering.

"You have three minutes, Frye." The man was reluctant about letting the prisoner use the phone as it meant he had to stay on his toes for a little longer. His coworkers back in the break room were probably playing another round of whatever card game was assigned for Thursdays. The guardsman cared only about the Tuesday games - darts. He had a great aim.

"That's plenty, thank you." Cole Frye always made sure to be polite but assertive towards the prison guards, perfectly balancing respect and brown-nosing.

Dialing that number was easy for Cole as it was the only phone number he actually cared about. It was nine digits he could recite back and forth even if woken up in the middle of the night. He didn't have to look at the buttons while dialing it.

"Father?" Taliya seemed confused or surprised that he was calling her. The word 'dad' was off-limits in the Frye family.

"Hey little bird," he greeted her while smiling unwillingly. The Brotherhood had a strong connection with eagles, so Cole thought it was only natural to call his daughter 'little bird'. "You have a tail. Called himself Matt Murdock, a blind lawyer. Came today to ask about you."

"What did you tell him?"

"That you don't like boats and watched cartoons before going to school."

Taliya chuckled at her father's words, mainly because of how ridiculous they were. Somewhere between her laughs, she did wonder, but only for a second, what it would be like to live a life in which watching morning cartoons is an established part of a daily routine.

"Really, whoever that lawyer is, he's smarter than most in this city and he knows about the Dragon. Watch out for him."

"Thank you, I-... I'll come around on Sunday, okay?"

Dowsy never wore suits and generally refused to do so - climbing buildings was fairly difficult in elegant shirts and dress shoes. He was, however, reasonable enough to put one as he paid a visit to the Nelson and Murdock lawyering firm. If Dowsy was supposed to pose as a potential client, he had to look the part.

Out of the two of them, it was he who did well in social situations. Taliya simply hated small talk and felt her skin crawl listening to the typical lying high-brow crowd trying to make themselves look better than they really were. While he met with people and negotiated beneficial relationships, she would be busy trespassing and free climbing, appearing as nothing more but a memory of a shadow long gone.

With unmistakable confidence in his step, Dowsy entered the small room that served as the waiting room for the lawyers' clients. He made sure to be their first client of the day to not let any unscheduled interruptions make him late for the evening's gig - Taliya and he were to crash one of Butterneck Jim's shipments.

"David Morgan Kenway, a pleasure to meet you." He shook Matt and Foggy's hands. It was quite remarkable how stereotypical his grip was: certain but short. Dowsy really sold his 5-minute persona of a successful businessman.

"Kenway?" Foggy asked. His face lit up significantly. "Like the pirate, Edward Kenway?" Foggy was visibly excited. Karen smiled to herself remembering how she overheard him singing sea shanties. Of course, he would know a drunk sailor from three hundred years ago.

"Same one," he answered. Considering his dark, wavy hair put in a bun, thick beard and a light scar across his lips, Dowsy could definitely pass as a pirate's descendant. Matt noticed that the stranger smelled like a home-improvement store.

"How can we help you, Mr.Kenway?" Matt asked. As far as Dowsy could tell, the man wasn't suspicious of him at all.

"I wanted to get some legal advice, actually. One of our investors is threatening to sue the board of directors for embezzlement and I wanted to know what options we have."

"We're happy to help, Mr.Kenway," Matt answered while silently gesturing towards an empty room with a long table.

Taliya was never going to give him credit for that but Dowsy truly deserved it - he was impressively prepared. The amount of well-forged documents he brought with him could probably fool even a good portion of the FBI or CIA. In the little time he was given, that is barely a day and a night, he created a foolproof con of a company. Some part of him wanted to laugh as Nelson and Murdock went through the various insurance statements, invoices, NDAs and contracts, all the while never even thinking there was something quite dishonest about them. Although only on the inside so as to not spoil his alter ego, Dowsy was simply gloating.

As expected, he was given some legal advice and the suggestion to keep in touch with the lawyers in case something new happens regarding the alleged embezzlement. Dowsy left the office without ever raising any suspicion and his name would have slipped their minds entirely if it wasn't for the nosiness so intrinsic to the persona of Karen Page:

"Hey, Matt," Karen accosted him while gently knocking on the doorframe to announce herself.

"Something happened?" Matt momentarily stopped reading the document he was going through, his hands stuck on a sentence about insurance policies.

"It's about what didn't happen," she said and closed the door to the office behind herself. Karen continued in a quieter voice as if unconsciously afraid of being eavesdropped on. "I had this feeling that something was off with Mr.Kenway, especially the company name he gave us, so I did some digging and it's not looking good."

"What do you mean?" he asked in a worried tone. Feeling anxiety flowering inside him, Matt set the document aside, giving the woman his undivided attention. "What did you find, Karen?" he repeated the question before she even had a chance to answer the first time.

"Pelastra Industries is a company from some 80s sitcom and the only mention of a David Morgan Kenway is a birth certificate issued in Wales... This has something to do with that woman you asked about, right? Taliya Frye?" Although he didn't answer, his expression was enough to serve as proof for her. A heavy sigh left her lungs before she continued. "Shit, what did you get yourself into, Matt?"

In the long pause when he couldn't give Karen a definite answer, heavy rain started hitting the dirty windows of the rented office. Maybe it was just the storm clouds or the world did become a lot grimmer in those few minutes.

"I'm not sure either."

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nukenai · 2 years

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i’ve played all chapters of Live A Live now except Distant Future (which I watched a whole playthrough for) and the Oersted shit so I will be giving my reviews and thoughts on all chapters in the order I played them below

I am not tagging this with Live A Live bc I don’t want people to yell at me but it’ll show up in search anyways whatever

There’s gonna be big spoilers if you care about spoilers about a game from 1994

PREHISTORY A bit of a slog but still a good intro to the game and a nice way to figure things out. I know it’s unga bunga cave people but juvenile humor does nothing for me so a lot of this was whatever. Music was nice! Shout out to Beru for just absolutely demolishing the final boss for me. Zaki is funny I wish he would keep his crotch lizard to himself though. So overall tedious at parts but still decently entertaining. It was fine. Fighting a T-Rex was amazing and hearing Megalomania in-game for the first time made me lose my fucking mind.

EDO JAPAN Oh my god. I was so excited to play this. I had so much fun running around the castle being a fancy little sneak boy. I did a pacifist run because that’s just who I am. BEAUTIFUL visuals I flipped out when I could run on the roof omg lookit Oboromaru’s lil feets go. Stunning, all of it. BUT. Jesus christ did I get lost 40000 times and have to backtrack 900000 times and oh my god. It took me 3 days to beat this shit because it was so exhausting. BUT. Overall it was really nice had great atmosphere and music and I think Oboromaru is just swell. Uh, the one random imposter guy going “POTATO” sounded like Kato and it scared me out of my skin. Also Ryoma being a fucking Londoner was so funny I almost fell out of my chair, I’m not sure which was funnier: a Japanese Samurai from the Edo period having a London accent, or him having A GUN AS HIS MAIN WEAPON. Fucking amazing. Made it all worth it.

PRESENT DAY I was not looking forward to this and tried to alternate shit I didn’t care about with shit I wanted to play. I was PLEASANTLY SURPRISED with this chapter, it was a ton of fun!! I know it was super short but I had a BLAST, the fights were interesting and engaging, having to balance getting hit with attacks with actually beating a bad guy. I really liked it. Masaru became The Best Punch Kick Boy, good for him. I expected not to care and I had probably more fun with this chapter than any of the others. No part was annoying or a pain in the ass.

IMPERIAL CHINA So, I didn’t care about this chapter either and it wound up being the one to emotionally affect me the most, second only to Distant Future because of course. None of the other ones did much for me emotionally, actually, other than whether I liked the gameplay or not. Holy shit. I... did not know the not-picked disciples get fucking murdered. I picked Lei first because I liked her spunk, but started to feel a little bad after the night time cutscene with Yun. And then he got fucking murdered. Little orphan sick grandma wants to be strong dies. I was legitimately sitting in my chair crying for 20+ minutes not knowing what to do. I was WEEPING. I felt like I had a DARKNESS IN MY SOUL that I could not reconcile.

...So I started the entire fucking chapter over again and picked Yun instead. And I felt at peace. Apologies to Lei for letting her die after all, but I’m at peace, and Shifu’s dialogue with Yun after the other 2 are killed felt like it was speaking directly to me after all this. The final battle was amazing, this chapter REALLY balanced gameplay and story super well and I was very, very invested and now get extremely emotional hearing any of the music.

WILD WEST Sorry to sound like a contrarian but I am wholly neutral toward this chapter. I know its focus was story over gameplay, but the story was... lacking. I knoooow it’s really moot to be like “it was too generic” bc that’s the POINT of all these but I just felt nothing for anyone besides hey Mad Dog is kinda nice I like that handsome lad. The gameplay felt more like a frustrating obligation with all the trap-planting and I didn’t really get invested... I 100% accept that it’s a Me issue. I just found the dialogue jarring and uninteresting, I get they’re going for rough and tumble yee haw cowboy times but I just got bored. Sorry.

NEAR FUTURE Please kill me lmfao. I have not actively disliked a chapter until this one. This will probably also make people mad. I just... i really hated it. Everything about it. The plot was so ramshackle and kept throwing in random, disconnected elements every 4 seconds. I was... actually pretty excited to play this one so I’m SUPER fucking bummed. I know it’s supposed to be 80s/90s anime shit but like... Akira is a whole-ass obvious 17/18/19 year old and is... still living at an orphanage? I didn’t get a real sense that he cared about the kids there because all he did was manipulate them and be a fucking asshole! He was really fucking annoying lol!!!! Green haired guy... I didn’t care. I didn’t feel a connection between him and Akira and the Big Reveal being only when he’s like dead and you gotta read his mind and it’s just an exposition dump... I just...

The plot point with the sudden factory kidnapping people and there’s a weird cult that is never mentioned before??? It just felt like a ton of shit was thrown at you with absolutely no groundwork or setup. There should’ve been some connection with the lab trying to unlock psychic powers in people (didn’t the guards have psychic attacks!?!?) or Akira’s dad should’ve been adoptive and he worked at the factory and ran away with Akira who was an experiment or something. I feel like it just took a wrong turn every time it could and nothing felt as connected as it should’ve.

Also I got to control a big robot and I did not give a shit and I was bored and I barely even cared when Megalomania started playing because the final boss was not established and felt totally disconnected from everything and the battle lasted 20 seconds. Holy shit dude... I am so disappointed this one was a mess.

Very important edit sorry I love the turtle he’s my favorite I love him and he is the only character worth shit in this chapter I love him so much.

ANYWAYS

I’m obviously going to enjoy Cube’s chapter bc I know what happens and I don’t need to spend the whole time stressed over whether Kato is going to die but boy am I still a little heartbroken about Huey bc I thought he was cute first and went to his wiki like let’s read more about him! .......oh. ok.

Oersted’s chapter is apparently the longest one and I already have a headache about it. I’m excited though, overall this game has been a great experience I’m just in a bad fuckin mood because I JUST beat Akira’s chapter and I wanna yell at someone about it because what the fuck. I wish all those orphans died when the orphanage burned down.

#nuke shouts uncontrollably about live a live

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just-honey-dewd · 10 months

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Ame Nochi Hare quick review.

Premise: 5 highschool boys become girls whenever rain falls. Coming of age type beat. Warning (3 year age gap arranged fiancee relationship).

Disclaimer: Take my review with a grain of salt. I have my observations, but I’m not gonna translate them into a professional language.

The content explored throughout the story itself was engaging. But the ending felt rushed.

A lot of queer pairings got shot down so hard. And I felt robbed for caring about miniscule details in the interactions between characters (cough cough Hazuki and Touma). I knew I was either in for the realest version of will-they won’t-they because of the time this manga was produced in. But I can’t hold back the astonished disappointment that settled in when I found out the story didn’t continue beyond the ending. They way there were two potential queer dynamics established in the story from the very beginning… The way the whole premise is gender fluid af. The way Hazuki and Touma engaged with gender fluidity.

Idk y’all. Idk how some stories are allowed to pull such a 180 so striking that it could snap a neck.

Naive me was worried, thinking that the worst case scenario was for one of them to actually stay a girl for them to be endgame. Naive me was worried these two would be sentenced to a comphet end.

But NO. Not even that.

These two didn’t even get to comprehend each others’ feelings. THE RELATIONSHIP DIDN’T EVEN GET THE CHANCE TO GET OFF THE GROUND. As biased as I am for these two, THEY HAD THE MOST DEVELOPED AND PROMISING RELATIONSHIP. The later chapters made Touma’s feelings for Hazuki such a forefront focus that I could barely remember what’s-her-face’s input and opinion of Hazuki. And it’s been alluded to since the BEGINNING. You’re telling me HAZUKI NEVER RECIPROCATED?! Are you kidding me? (Someday I’ll polish my criticisms with visuals)

Hazuki was the most flustered, bi, lovesick DOPE outta the whole group (Touma was a lil more covert but also not). And he was MOST downbad around Touma and Takuma! My heart sank when Hazuki learned Touma liked him and there was NO indication that he SENSED some form of tension between em like that— when before, they were literally roommate roommates, good lord!

The whole slowburn romance between Hazuki and… what’shername was so frustrating. She wasn’t as developed and the direction of her character felt weak. Too many love triangles. I really thought Hazuki dropped the ball in the festival arc, when he showed absolutely zero engagement. Critically, I wasn’t convinced of this relationship, until the ending slapped me in the face and told me they were endgame.

I’m sorry I thought they were played TOO STRAIGHT (heh). They were being interloped by the relationship dynamics of the main 5, with how they had to hide their queer experience between each other like the closeted queers they are. I was automatically more invested in that than the somewhat shallow romance plotlines that started to interject into their arcs. It was no wonder the romance subplots resolved the weakest characters to the strongest (sorry not sorry Maki). If they weren’t bogged down by the necessity of having romance issues be the FOREFRONT of all their issues, then I wouldn’t be here criticising just how much it killed the vibe of the series itself. It felt like Ranma 1/2 but somehow less sincere about addressing gender fluidity in its main characters. Possibly because 5 characters had to share being leads, and the strength of their writing was solid enough to measure up to Ranma Saotome (Ranma review someday).

Basically, I regard Touma and Hazuki as the stronger leads for even discussing their complex feelings of gender fluidity that has been forced upon them. I barely got much from the other three, aside from strong dysphoria for Maki. Also, let’s just address this: the other guys saw Hazuki and Touma’s budding chemistry, and absolutely saw through Touma before either of the dullards realized.

Touma LIKED Hazuki longer than Hazuki properly liked (insert name here)! They literally had an exchange where he asked Hazuki how he felt about her, and Hazuki really only said she seemed sweet and he’s interested. Dude. Touma throughout the entire manga, was so good at articulating his thoughts on love and how the other guys failed at understanding it, or meeting their partner’s expectations regarding it. So you cannot gaslight me to believe he didn’t already harbor an affection almost immediately.

We can even pick up on it. He initially entertained flirtatious exchanges when Hazuki was a cute girl (specifically told Hazuki to only hug him when he’s Tsukiko) . Then he started to admire Hazuki for his cooking, thoughtfulness, and innocence— and communicated his affections through teasing, flirting and physical contact. By the time he realized it was there, he continued supporting Hazuki’s pursuit (until his father inspired him to confess), and regardless of the result, he unconditionally continued to support Hazuki.

Can you tell me in EXCRUCIATING DETAIL— WHY THEY COULDN’T BE TOGETHER? And no one tell me “This was to show that romantic success wasn’t the point of the curse. And the curse was a metaphor for not having the maturity to confront or take responsibility for your blossoming feelings as young men—“ I WILL POLITELY GRAB YOUR LIPS, YOU SILLY GOOSE

The confused lesbian of the cast had to settle with considering a guy who was willing to wait for her for years. And the arranged marriage couple apparently reciprocated romantic feelings, and (reminders that they had to think about their love as 15/12 yr olds!)

Arguably, the fact that NONE of their partners end up learning about the gender bending aspects of their life throughout the series makes me disapprove of these couples even more with how much it’s built UP OUT OF DECEIT, and LACK OF AGENCY for all the girls involved. The power balance is too much.

So I really shouldn’t have to justify why the two homoerotic nicknamed “newly wed” roommates made sense to me from the very beginning beyond all the other couples around me. I feel like a victim of queerbait, reading this manga. I ultimately disliked the manga as a whole. The ending brought down the quality of the story.

There was more implied hope for the lesbian and misguided twink, than the actual homosexuals. I’m scarred for life. This has become a new addition to my emotionally scarring backstory collection.

In conclusion, should you read this series? To join me in my enlightenment, mayhaps. But if you get invested it a very queer-coded couple like I do, don’t go for this. You can do better.

#my posts #my writing #my reviews #gender liquid media analysis

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residentdormouse · 11 months

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Who is your current muse, and who is their faceclaim/what do they look like? What is one item that you associate without fail to them? What is their favourite colour? Is there a song you associate with them? If not, what quote fits the best for them? What do they like doing in their spare time? How much spare time do they get? What one fact do you love about them, but might not have had the chance to share yet?

💞 Thank you for asking! 🥹💞

(Sorry this has taken so long to answer - real life has been absolutely insane for me recently. Its going to be rough for a bit still while I adjust, but I think everything is going for the better in the end. Regardless, may still be MIA for awhile.)

I'm going to answer for my new original work 'Close to the Vale' and the main character for it, Faith Lochren (which by proximity brings in a bit of Paul). I haven't gotten too far in this work (again, irl drama has been a bitch), but I have some basic concepts, a decent outline, and a couple chapters.

As for a face claim, I have been playing at Jennifer Carpenter. Maybe this will change throughout the process, but most of the shit that pours out of Debra Morgan's mouth makes me smile and gives me Faith vibes.

Her item would be a very simple rose gold engagement ring that Paul gave her. It's not coming off. You can pry that fucker from her cold dead hands, and you damn well better believe if you're doing that, she's going to be haunting your ass. Not worth it, move it along.

As for colors, the engagement ring choice wasn't arbitrary. Rose gold is a favorite of Faith's. Complement it with a bit of sea foam/teal, and a neutral taupe and she's sold. Paul knew what he was doing. He usually did.

I've only done some basic song hunting so far, but this one has set a tone for drafting the first couple chapters. Depending on where you pick Faith up at, her vibe is going to be very different. Pre-incident Faith, and post-incident Faith are different people. Same background, same make-up, but loss has tainted her view on the world and affected her actions in it. This is definitely post-incident, which is where most of the story takes place.

Outdoors was always a comfort for Faith. Hiking on back trails. Wandering up streams. She would opt to stay out there than deal with societal bullshit any day of the week. When she couldn't get outdoors, which living in the middle of the city makes somewhat difficult, she could also be found working on a good puzzle. More mental than visual though. 1,000 piece pictures puzzles with the same damn repeating pattern? Nobody has the time or patience for that shit. Riddles? Brain teasers? Logic puzzles? Yeah, she's game. Now pair puzzles, a campfire, and Paul's storytelling, and you have a combination that can't possibly be beat in her mind. (Well, maybe some drinks would sweeten the deal.) Lately, however, this has all come to a halt. After quiting her job (again), time is all she has. But the will to pick it all back up again, living that life, alone, it's non existent.

She has very little filter sometimes. Most times. If there's a problem, you're going to hear it. In most cases, with more colorful language than you would expect. Unless you know her, that is. Suffering arrogance and pretentious bullshit is not something she is about, and there's no secret about this. While Paul had a reputation for speaking his mind as well, he usually had a lighthearted mirth behind his remarks. Hers bite and/or contain a fair amount of snark. It's amazingly fun to write (and decently cathartic).

#this was ridiculously sweet of you to ask #thank you so much #close to the vale #Faith Lochren #mouse is back on her nonsense

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rainypebble07 · 1 year

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i hope you're feeling better now but i just saw your post from the other day and i sure do have Things to put in your askbox so

hello hi tell me about your writing process ! and i mean literally any part of it, literally any Thing, i'm just kind of curious because i really love what you write and my wips generally stay unfinished no matter how much i like the idea so i'm also kinda just curious how you manage to Get It Done yk?

no pressure at all i was just wondering

(Dude, I wrote too much. Sorry. i love to speak. I was excited I got an ask)

Hi! Yes! I'm feeling a little better now, still kinda sick, but so it goes. And that's so sweet of you! I'm glad you like my writing!

Writing Process? Oh boy, this is gonna be so disappointing. Most of the stories I've written come to me at random moments and over the course of a few days I'll make up this weird elaborate plot in my head until I get to the point where I'm like 'ok, this need to be a fic'.

I usually use two documents while writing something. I've got a layout (that's where I pull the crazy planning posts from) and the actual story(where I get the out-of-context stuff). I write down everything I want to happen in the layout document and add as much to it as I see fit (this can include really anything from specific conversations I want to really generic plot points) as well as block out chapters and after I'm finished with that, it usually just looks like a weirdly formatted poem or something. I never use spellcheck or anything on that either and I use such casual language, so it always looks like something I wrote while blackout drunk, but I love it nonetheless. Here's the first chapter of "Mike Wheeler's Ultimate Guide to the Undead"'s outline for example:

As you can see, it's a mess, but I love it. And somehow I got the first chapter out of this.

The point of that is pretty much it's an outline, but it's also kind of fun since it's so casual, so I've found it helps to motivate me to write new parts of the story bc I'm engaged by the strange wording I use on the outline. I also use this doc for title planning and other stuff I have to figure out beforehand. For example, I wrote the poem in Shady Business on an outline doc.

I then transfer this over to the story doc in an actual storytelling format. Most of my writing comes out of absolutely nowhere and idk what to say about it. I'll word-vomit for about ten minutes and get a page, look at it, and go 'oh hey, why isn't that horrible?'. I'm also super conversational in my writing, which helps it flow better. I always thought that made my writing hard to read, but a lot of people have actually said they like my writing style so I guess it's not that bad! I just treat it as if I'm telling the story over a cup of coffee. As for representing the character well (because they are real characters), I just try to get into their mindset as much as possible. I don't really have any specific way I do that, though. I recently had to create a fake "Am I the Asshole" post for Mike so I could try to understand his feelings on something better within myself (made it on the outline doc!).

After the initial word vomit of a chapter, I'll go back and read it over, adding or taking away what I see fit and fixing initial spelling mistakes and making sure it reads well. I don't have a beta reader (I wish I did), so I've gotta just assume it's readable and go with it. After the initial fixes, I'll read it over again just to make sure. I only fix all the spelling mistakes by the time I go to publish because I use Grammarly on the Ao3 post thing lol. By that point, it's only like 4 mistakes left anyway (and the stuff Grammarly says is incorrect but I don't care bc it sounds good and I can do what I want).

I also highlight my little outline as I go (usually in green bc byler brainrot, you can see it in the image) and it helps me visualize my progress and keep going!

But, yeah. That's pretty much the entire process and I have no better explanation than it's simply a dumpster fire of improv and weird pieces of moment I have glued together in my brain. It's arts and crafts, at the best, but somehow I pull it together and create a story!

As for motivation, most of it's four things. One, the anticipation of writing scenes I really want to. Two, telling myself I'm gonna get fun comments and reading old comments (I thrive off of positive feedback from poeple). Three, a specialized playlist for the fic. I make playlists for my stories with songs I like that fit the overall vibe and sometimes I get inspiration from them and it gives me new ideas. And four, probably the most important, I just really like writing. It's my favorite things ever to just put words on a page and make a story out of it. It's so fun and so cool and so magical and I love it.

And that's about it. The end. That's my writing process. It doesn't really make much sense, but I guess it works, so it works for me! If you're looking to improve your own completion rate, I mean, maybe try some of it, but it's really a personal preference. You've gotta do tril and error. And I've really gotta work on slowing down anyway because I can totally rush writing a fic and end up making it a lot less than it could have been if I took more time. And If you're not feeling motivated to write, don't force it. Seriously. Things like I suggested totally help me keep up with it, but what I hate more than anything is stuff I wrote when I didn't want to write. It's just... uninspired.

Okay! Thank you so much for asking that! Hopefully this long rant of nonsense (omg like my writing) answered your question! Sorry I wrote an essay!

#fanfic #byler fanfic #wip stuff #writing #byler #AN ASK #IM SO HAPPY #(if you couldn't tell)

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taeescript · 3 years

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facade - two

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> when the popular and good-looking ceo is officially on the market, everyone is scrambling to catch his attention.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. park jimin

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> strangers to lovers; arranged marriage au; ceo!jimin

𝔴/𝔠 >> 3.4k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> soft jimin, caring jimin, please shower with love jimin; an honest to god heartthrob jimin (nod to wings era jimin); all to trump a nasty mother figure. fluff (for now)

𝔞/𝔫 >> sorry for the late update! thank you for all your lovely feedback. enjoy this chapter! i am currently living for soft fics and honestly how could one ever say no to mr. park jimin.

previously | the beginning | next

Two.

The trip really did do something good to the relationship between Jimin and yourself. The impromptu trip to Paris suddenly turned into a three-week tour of Europe. The most impressive part: the two of you kept it a secret from the entire world. Using his connections, Jimin was able to skirt around the watching world. Together, the two of you travelled as a duo of unknown persons.

It was no lie; the first week was extremely awkward. After all, neither of you had ever spent more than a couple of hours in the other’s presence. But you found that you really enjoyed his company. It was not that he was particularly playful or adventurous; he was simply the right amount of interesting.

You could not anticipate what a day with him would be like. One morning you would wake up and he would have planned a day of sightseeing around Paris. The next, he would go with you to spontaneously do a food tour around Barcelona. Then there would be days where you would lounge by the sea and people watch with a drink in your hand while he sat silently by your side, eyes closed and consumed by a podcast or music in his ears.

When at last the both of you returned to Seoul, the reporters were practically drooling in wait for an interview. Twenty-four hours gave them a headliner story to write about the couple who disappeared from the surface of Earth for nearly a month.

You came to accept Jimin in your life. There was in no way where you’d treat him as your husband, but at least he was no longer a stranger in your life. You were okay with living in the same house with him. You were fine with being in the same vicinity without being uncomfortable.

Marriage life wasn’t so bad.

The second year went by and gradually, the questions in your interviews changed from “How are you enjoying your newlywed life?” to “When are you having children?”

It had been a shock the first time you heard the question. Not a single soul outside your household knew, but the two of you did not share a bed. It did not seem right to do so, even with your new and improved friendship with him. Unfortunately, that question also piqued your mother’s interest and soon, she was calling you daily asking the same question.

You were too embarrassed to bring it up to Jimin. How could you? You were the one who made it very clear that you saw him as a platonic member of the house. However, the burden of such thoughts started to become unbearable. And your mother wasn’t helping by stopping by your house with baby clothes. She had even sent you a long message about how to have a successful pregnancy.

“What are you reading that’s got your face twisted like that?” he had asked, sitting across from you in a large armchair as the fireplace blazed.

When you looked up, you felt your scowl untwist at the sight of him being dwarfed in the giant blanket he had put over himself, as well as the large-framed glasses over his face as he reads a book. The descriptive words of certain poses and visual aids your mother had sent you in the text fade into the background.

“Nothing,” you muttered. You turn back to your phone and open a new browser. The two of you sat in silence for a while as you were each engaged in your own reading materials. Reaching out for your glass of evening wine, you were met with his warm fingers.

He had been looking at you with a soft smile when you meet his eyes. You allow him to take your fingers in his. He does not let go until you excuse yourself and turn in to rest.

Jimin had always been quick to notice your mood changes. He would tease you about how easy you were to read. One day, he asks you,

“Y/N, you’ve been looking extremely tired lately. Is something bothering you?”

His concern for you makes you feel guilty for keeping such a secret from him. You released all your concerns before him, breaking down in the process because this time, you knew you could never meet your mother’s expectations.

You were left crying and sniffling while leaning against the door frame to his room. He had left momentarily and soon returned with a handkerchief. He blotted your cheeks and brought you close to his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he made sure you were secure and warm in his embrace.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” he said the soothing words, running his fingers through your hair, “I’m here with you.”

The two of you stayed in that embrace for a while until your breathing was calmed. You knew how unattractive you must have looked, with your blotchy cheeks and swollen eyes. You turned to excuse yourself from bothering him so late at night but he grabbed your wrist.

“No, sleep with me tonight,” he said quietly.

And he then led you to his bed, wrapping his arms around you once again. Even now, you are thankful for that night. Park Jimin had offered the second gift in your marriage that day:

Intimacy.

He reached out to you first, telling you that it was okay.

But that was what you admired about him as well. Not once, in the two years you had been married, did he try to have any sexual advances towards you. That night, he did not force you into anything. You also knew him well enough to see that he did not try to release any sexual frustration by meeting other women. To your knowledge, he kept himself dignified. You assumed he would solve this problem… privately.

He did not have to, but each time your mother complained about how you weren’t fulfilling your duties as a wife, he would jump to your defense. He would shower you with good words and all the other achievements that you attained. He would always be quick to give you compliment in front of your mother and eventually, a long eventually later, she stopped asking.

The breakfasts that the two of you were obliged to have together for the sake of keeping your façade in front of the housekeepers no longer felt like a chore. You looked forward to waking up to his face and feeling his lips press against your forehead. You enjoyed his small smiles that he reserved just for you. You loved helping your husband put on his suit in the morning and fixing his tie. You didn’t even mind hanging up his jacket each time he returned home and left it on the floor because then he would return to apologize. And you would smile. Then he would hug you.

It was that hug that shielded you from anything dangerous in the world.

“Red wine?” Jimin asks presently, not meeting your eyes. He is too occupied with his phone, his fingers swiping mindlessly through the news his secretary had sent him.

You don’t bother to answer as this is what he asks each time the two of you are here. The host appears and pours the two of you a glass. He makes no movement to reach for his, but you take yours to your lips. Its taste is like expired juice, no longer filling you with sweet memories.

You finish your cup in one shot.

Your second anniversary. You had started to look forward to it as the day came closer and closer. On the day of, your eyes shoot open but your heart falls as you realize you are alone in bed. Jimin’s side has been made – in fact, it looked like it had not been slept in at all.

Vaguely, you remember that you had gone to bed first. Jimin had not been home yet as he was returning from a late flight.

You know you are in no position to demand anything, but you can’t help but feel disheartened that you may be spending this day alone. Jimin had made many efforts over time to be home as often as possible, but his role at the company was growing. Your role at the lawyer firm had also become larger – you were now a senior partner at this firm. You had officially taken your leave from your parents’ company to further pursue your own career. Your mother wasn’t exactly ecstatic at your decision, but she respected you well enough to allow it.

You swing your legs out of bed with a sigh and trudge to the bathroom. Sleep still clings to your eyes so you keep them closed while brushing your teeth. When you’re finished, you blindly grope for your face towel but find it not where it usually is. Peeking with one eye, you see that indeed, your face towel has disappeared.

“What in the world…” you mutter, throwing the door open and close a few times. Like shaking it would cause your face towel to magically appear again.

A single Post-It floats down from between the hinges and fall at your feet. You pick it up, curious when you find that writing is on it. On there, a web address has been written down and you recognize the scrawl to be from Park Jimin.

Forgetting that you have yet to wash your face, you quickly run back to your room and grab your cell phone. You input the address and find that it leads to a video. You press play.

“Good morning!” Jimin’s face pops up on the screen, “I’m sorry I couldn’t wake up beside you today. Ah, there I go again, apologizing.”

You chuckle.

“Well, I think you know what date it is this morning. I wish I could be there with you, but I’m being held up in Tokyo right now. The client wants me to go over the presentation again, so I don’t think I’ll be able to make it in time. Last year, we took a spontaneous trip together for our anniversary and I really wanted to do something more amazing. Sadly, I’m stuck here talking to old men.

Anyways, I had this prepared in case of a rainy day. It looks like it’ll finally be put to good use! When you’ve finished watching this video, walk over to your closet and look between the dress that we first met in. You remember which one, right?”

The video cuts with him giving a cute wave to the camera. At this point, you are extremely intrigued at what he has planned. Your feet move quickly to your closet and you dig through your clothes. The red gown…the red gown. That was what you wore the first time you saw him.

You find what you are looking for at the back of the closet. Searching diligently, you dig around but as a dress, it does not contain pockets and very soon you emerge empty-handed. A pout starts to form on your face. Did you remember incorrectly? No… You are quite sure that is the dress you wore the day he proposed. There are probably pictures on the Internet still floating around of that day.

A light goes on in your head. It was a bit of a far-fetched idea, but who knew. That could also be considered the first time you saw each other. You press the button to dial your mother’s phone.

She picks up, groggy because you had awoken extra early that morning. “Hi Mom,” you greet.

“Y/N?”

You realize that you’ve never greeted your mother like that before. It was usually “Mother” or nothing. You clear your throat, “Sorry to wake you. But I’m wondering, would you still have the lilac dress you gave me the day I was supposed to meet Jimin at the restaurant? That first meeting… Where he never showed up.”

“It’s seven in the morning. Why are you calling for something like that?”

“Please, Mother. Could you answer my question?”

You hear her groan and for a long time, there is only the sound of her breathing. You wait patiently – impatiently – for an answer. At long last, it comes.

“Jimin took it a few days ago, I think. One of the maids said he stopped by to borrow it.”

“Okay! Thanks, Mom!” you say.

“Dear, what is – ” You cut her off, already on your way downstairs.

Your feet nearly slip due to the speed on the stairway. You turn the corner and there, on the kitchen table, is the wrapped box you received from your mother two years back. You slip off the ribbon and open it. Another Post-It note lies inside. Beneath it is a small photo.

To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure you would show up that day. I had a friend take a picture of you as proof that you had arrived. It’s a little creepy, isn’t it? But you look lovely here.

The photo is of you bending down to pick up the bouquet. You don’t look particularly pleased, but your hair had hid most of your face then. You read the rest of the note.

Get dressed! A car will come and pick you up to your next location. Look pretty, my princess!

You blush reading the words. Jimin never called you pet names, yet when you were reading the note you could hear his voice. Even through your imagination, your heart quickens at the term of endearment.

There are a multitude of clothes for you to choose from. You must look good… What did he mean by that? Did he want you to dress formally? Or was it a casual event where a simple outfit would do? But you could never go too casual.

At the end, you settle for a skirt that caps right above your knee and a collared blouse. You feel that you look feminine enough but not too formal in case this next location ended up to be a park or something. As if Jimin is watching you, your doorbell rings the minute you finish putting on your lipstick. You run down the stairs and open it up to reveal the chauffer. He smiles at you and gestures to the black limousine that is waiting.

You dash back inside to grab your keys and do a final touch up before leaving the house. Once you sit inside the car, the windows become darker, and a screen lowers itself from the roof of the car. It is another video.

“Hello again!” Jimin greets you. At this point, you notice how disheveled his hair looks and it makes you wonder whether he had filmed this after waking up at some point.

“Seems like you found that stalker photo of you I kept. Well, onto our next destination! We haven’t been many places together, but I thought that this next place might be significant! I hope it brings back the good memories of that night.”

The windows are tinted so darkly you are unable to look outside. All you can do is wait with your tapping feet as the car takes one turn after the other. After what seemed to be eternity to you, the car slows down, and the chauffer turns back to smile at you.

“We’ve arrived,” he says.

You thank him for his services and step out of the car to be greeted…

…by the Han River. It takes you by surprise. You had only ever visited this place with Jimin once. And that was the night you decided to go out for a couple of drinks with your coworkers after celebrating a winning case. You had gotten so drunk that your coworkers had no choice but to call Jimin to pick you up. You barely remember the night, as everything had been so blurry. But you remember one thing very clearly in your mind.

“Jeemeen-ssheee,” you say the name, stretching out all the vowels.

Jimin steadies you as you rock on your feet. He finds it strange that your cheeks do not contain any type of glow from the alcohol, yet you are staggering like you’ve had ten drinks in your system. Not that he could tell… And neither could you. You lost count quite early on.

“Careful,” he whispers, getting you to sit down on the grass. He had brought you here to help clear your mind a little bit. Being beside the river had always helped him gather his thoughts.

“Jeemeen-sshee,” you slur again, “Why awe we hurr?”

He finally takes a seat beside you and places your head on his shoulder. However, you snap it back up and lie down on the grass instead. You kick off your heels and wiggle your toes in the air.

“It must have been a big case. To have you out celebrating like this,” he laughs at your drunken state.

“Don’t avoid my question. Why are we here? Do you see me like this and you want to…” you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

He clears his throat and turns to look at the waves. You are unable to catch the red that blossoms up his neck and cover his cheeks. The waves bob up and down, a gentle wind also blowing through the night. “Y/N,” he says, “I can’t believe you’d think of me like that.”

You giggle. “A man has his needs,” you say, barely intelligible. Whether Jimin understood you or not, you will never know. The two of you sit in silence before he speaks again.

“What do you think of me?” he asks.

You bring a finger up to your lip and tap it. You tap for an incredibly long time and then say, “Cute.”

He pulls a face. “Cute? That’s all you have to say after that thinking?”

His question makes you giggle harder. “My husband is cute. He’s very cute and he’s all mine.” You turn to your side and snuggle up to him. You make it such that your head ends up on his lap and your arms wrapped around waist. This position also stuffs your face dangerously close up on his legs.

Your eyes are closed, but his face has turned an even deeper shade of pink. He takes your head and pushes you further away, closer to the end of his lap. His adjustment has it such that you lie simply on his thighs and very much away from the rest of his body.

You do not find this comfortable so you sit up. You latch onto his arm again but position yourself so you rest on his shoulder. “Am I cute?” you return the question.

He looks down tenderly at you. With two fingers, he pinches your cheek. “Undoubtedly.”

His answer satisfies you and the two of you sit at the waterside, enjoying each other’s company.

“Jimin-ssi,” this time you say his name correctly. A tone of seriousness is also in the air.

“Hmm?” he turns to you, slightly concerned at your change in demeanor.

“I’m very confused,” you say. He waits for you to continue. “You make me very confused,” you repeat.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” you ponder, “You’re very different from what I thought you to be. When Mother told me about you, in my head you were another pompous jerk.”

He laughs. “So I’m not a pompous jerk.”

You shake your head. “No, sometimes you are. A jerk I mean,” you say, “But I like you.”

He is silent.

“I like you more than I should, I think,” you whisper. It is so quiet, it’s almost as if the wind has carried the thought away.

However, Jimin has heard it. “Really?” he whispers back.

“You know, if I were to see you on the streets again in another lifetime, I would still want to know you,” you continue, “I’d still want you in my life, Park Jimin. I’d still want you.”

All he can hear afterwards is your steady breathing. He doesn’t need to look down to know that you’ve fallen asleep. He places a hand over his heart and finds it to be beating irregularly fast. A small laugh escapes his lips, and the smile breaks across his face.

Although you never hear the answer, he tells you the same.

“Me too.”

Standing facing the waters at this moment, you hit your head, trying to recall what happened after you fell asleep on his shoulder. Nothing comes to mind except for the pounding headache the morning after. Also puking. Lots and lots of puking.

The chauffer clears his throat from behind you and calls you over. Another Post-It note.

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