#//Idk; found this half-written while clearing drafts and A

[dutybcrne]

While he’d had Diluc’s Vision in his care, Kaeya often spoke to it. Updates on how things were going in Mondstadt, on Jean and the Knights, quiet admissions on how much he missed him and hoped he was alright. Demands he come back to Mond alive, if not for the family he’d discarded, if not for the Knights, then for those at the Dawn Winery at the very least. They missed him more than anyone.

Kaeya doubted Diluc could even hear them, but if there was a chance those words could reach him, that Diluc could somehow be reassured through whatever turmoil he was facing in that moment and given some burst of determination to succeed through the worst from them, Kaeya would still ensure not a day went by without speaking to the Vision, conversations scarcely more than two hours apart if he could help it. It was a childish, most likely vain hope, he knew. But nothing and no one, including himself, would ever have been able to curb the habit.

Anything to make sure that Vision never once dulled to emptiness.

#Sb: You two were always so attached at the hip; it must be hard with Master Diluc gone #Kaeya; with the Vision tucked safely in his vest: Haha; what? I don't miss him; I'm relieved he can't fucken NAG me anymore- #hc; kaeya #//Imagine the messes he kept getting himself into if keeping the Vision near kept screwing up with his own Vision usage #//The Pyro IMMEDIATELY reacting to counter his Cryo usage (Kae can't help bitterly think it MEANS something; proof of Diluc's resentment) #//Kaeya simultaneously getting sabotaged by that happening AND his own worries making him sloppy #//Kae making jokes that he's been cursed with bad luck; and damn well KNOWS keeping the Vision so close is only trouble #//But anyone'd have to pry that Pyro Vision from his cold dead hands if he could help it #//When Diluc comes back and Kae HAS to part with the Vision; he can't help feeling lonely again #//Almost misses the damn thing was still on hand to sabotage him #//It's easier dealing with the Vision acting up than having to actually HEAR how much Diluc resents him now (as he thinks he does) #//It certainly was easier to TALK to #//sometimes; he genuinely can't tell if it was more stressful only ever having the Vision to tell if Diluc was alive #//Or being able to see him in person and check on him then #//Letters could only do so much and with only Two he received compared to all those he sent; well; he couldn't trust like that #//But then talking to him after everything is just the Worst because both their guards are up and the ways they deal with it Clash #//Will that stop him? Ofc not #//He can deal with bruised pride and hurt feelings if it means making sure he's still kicking. He owes him that much #//Idk; found this half-written while clearing drafts and A #//Had to finish the thoughts

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Idk if your still writing pt 2 of sirens call between your projects being due and a possible pt2 of bathtub mermaid but with the idea of a possible love triangle in sirens call a little scenario I thought of is shin in Y/N's tub complaining about how small it is maybe even throwing water In their face just because he can .

Hi anon, I've actually mostly finished the second part to Siren's Call (I’m looking at the paper copy sitting on my desk as I write this). I've just got to type up the last part and make some edits but I've found my writing often benefits from me leaving the first draft alone for a bit once it's done so that I can look at it again with a clear head (I can sometimes rush into posting things in the desire for comments but it’s a habit I’m trying to fix). 

Part 2 isn’t actually going to act as a sequel, it’s a companion piece written entirely from Shin’s POV, as while I was pretty happy with how the original one shot came out, there’s some stuff from Shin’s side of things that I never really got to go into but still wanted to explore (plus I love getting to write from Shin’s POV). 

I have got plans for a part 3 (although admittedly they’re all in my head at the moment) which will act as a direct continuation to the events in the original one shot. As for when that will come out... I honestly can’t say as I definitely want to post that first love triangle ask game route before then and there are two other projects I’ve got going in the background that I have at least made a start on and would quite like to post in the not too dim and distant future (both of which have turned into more work than I’d planned for but hopefully that should just mean more content for you guys to enjoy). Plus I often get random little ideas that I feel compelled to write about in the moment (one of which will be coming out tomorrow :D).

I’m not going to spoil any of the scenes I’ve thought about including in part 3 but it’ll be focused on the reader dealing with having Shin just insert himself into their life. I’m certainly looking forward to writing it so I’m hoping it’ll be a fun one for you guys too.

As for a part 2 of Bathtub Merman... I probably owe you guys a bit of an explanation as to why it never appeared and I never mention it when I talk about ongoing projects.  I’m going to put this bit under the cut because I don’t want you guys to think I’m making a big deal out of it, I just want to try to explain.

I originally posted that one shot back in the summer of 2019, and when I did, it was 1) the first piece of long writing I’d done for a character who wasn’t one of the Tsukinami boys and 2) it was the longest story I’d written in... I believe 5 years? It was certainly the longest story I’d ever written that I think is actually any quality. 

While I was writing it, I got really into it and thus why my brain starting spinning up ideas for an epilogue of sorts, but then I posted the original and... It did not do well when I originally posted it. I think it had like 10 notes over here on Tumblr (my fics don’t normally get a huge number anyway but 10 is like half the number I usually hope for), and while I wasn’t exactly expecting for it to be particularly popular, it certainly wasn’t the response I’d hoped for given how excited I’d been to share it. I did get one really nice comment over here and one over on AO3 so shout out to those lovely people, but unfortunately because of the way my brain works I was like “oh shit the fic is actually really bad, I should sweep it under the rug and work on something else”, which is exactly what I did.

Plus that was around the time I got a whole bunch of requests for headcanons for my soulmate AU headcanon series so I just started working on those instead. Since then, I’ve had a LOT more positive feedback on Bathtub Merman (thank you all ❤) and it’s become my most popular one shot on AO3, but sadly by the time that happened, my enthusiasm for it had really waned. I’m not saying I’ll never write the epilogue but the original ideas I had for it have all but vanished and I’m now worried that if I try and write it, it just won’t come out right.

Sorry to end this on a negative note, but like I said, at this point I feel I should explain why that epilogue just did not appear. I also really don’t want to make it sound like I’m fishing for notes, because I’m not a professional writer and you guys are not obligated to read/engage with my nonsense. I’m really trying to get better about writing for myself first and foremost and using my blog as a platform to improve my ability as an author, so that I’m not sat there anxiously waiting for notes after I post something and I like to think I am moving towards that.

Anyway, a massive thank you to everyone who does read and enjoy my work, I really hope you’ll like reading the projects I have in the works at the moment as much as I’ve enjoyed working on them. It truly warms my heart to think that you like my fics enough to think about them and come up with your own scenarios for them 💕

#this reply ended up being a lot longer than intended but oh well #thank you for taking an interest in my Siren!AU anon! #ask

[xparadisexlostx]

So yesterday I was mindin my own business, writing something else, and @graunblida and I got on our gay shit. So I stopped all of that to write a 3.5k drabble about the fact that Beck wakes Lexa up in the middle of the night to do stupid witchy shit like catch moonbeams. 

This could definitely use some editing and another draft. I’ve never really written Lexa before and idk why I chose to try for this but... For some reason all of my drabbles seem to be like this??? Why do I do this to myself??? 

She couldn’t remember ever having someone shake her awake. Ever since she’d been brought to Polis, Lexa had been a perpetually light sleeper. That had only gotten worse after she’d become commander. After she’d lost the woman she loved to Nia’s sadism. Perhaps that was why she didn’t react with immediate murderous intent to the hand on her shoulder gently rocking her back into consciousness.

Lexa jolted upright so quickly that she nearly headbutted the little woman standing above her. She took a breath to steady herself. “What are you doing?”

She wasn’t sure what else to ask. Beck didn’t appear to be distressed, and the streets outside her window were quiet. Nothing seemed to be in disarray. Except for the fact that the moon was still high in the sky over Polis, and that her door had been locked and guarded, and that the the witch was supposed to still be on bed rest unless absolutely necessary, but there she was, her unbound hand still lingering on her shoulder, barely illuminated by the light of a candle she’d forgotten to extinguish.

“Come with me.” The witch whispered. The witch’s fingers trailed down her arm to grasp her wrist and gently tug her forward.

Lexa, who was still blinking away sleep and confusion, allowed herself to be coaxed up from the comfort of her furs and into the cool night air. She wasn’t dressed to go anywhere, and she needed her sword. Were they under attack? What was happening? 

Beck kept gently leading her along until she was awake enough to feel the irritation growing inside her. 

“Tell me the meaning of this.” She demanded. A cold breeze blew her nightgown flush against her body and Lexa crossed her arms. The chill wasn’t that bad, but it’d been a long time since anyone had seen her in this state, and she felt exposed. “Are we in danger?”

Beck gave her a bewildered look,  “Of course not. I need your help with something.”

Another tug on her hand, and Beck was wearing that ridiculously unapologetic smile that lit up her whole face. Lexa felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach, and some of her annoyance waned. It couldn’t hurt to help the witch, right? Surely her task was important if it warranted being out of bed at this hour, especially with her injury. And it wasn’t safe for her to wander the woods around Polis alone; the witch was no warrior. It was better than returning to her fitful dreams and frequent nightmares.

“Wait.” She demanded as the witch began to head for the door. She went to her dresser and rifled through the drawers to find something more suitable to wear. Beck was bouncing impatiently on her heels, but to Lexa’s surprise she was at least listening. She strapped her hunting knife to the thigh and while she was fastening the sword on her hip she looked back to her guest. “What is it I’m helping with, exactly?”

“I’m going to catch moonbeams.” The witch replied. Lexa waited for a long moment for her to break out into a laugh or to roll her eyes to show that she was being sarcastic. That moment never came. Beck was looking at her with utter sincerity and enthusiasm, still smiling, rocking back and forth on the ball of her feet with thinly bridled anticipation. 

Beck was a creature in constant motion. She buzzed with a persistent energy that threatened to spill over into action at any moment. The witch would sway back and forth in conversation, or swing her legs while sitting in a chair, and the guards had found her sleep walking twice since she’d come to Polis. Sometimes Lexa found herself resisting the urge to lay her hands on the woman’s shoulders to see if it would quiet her, but she never did.

“You want to catch---the moon?” Lexa said slowly.

Beck nodded eagerly. “Not all of her. Just a few rays. She doesn’t mind. I promise.”

She could only stare in bewilderment. If this was a jest... The irritation started to come back to her. 

“Beck-”

The witch must have heard the tension in her voice, because she cut her off. “Please? You need two hands to hold the bowl. I’ve only got the one. It’ll be fun. I promise.”

Lexa looked at the witch’s arm, still tightly splinted from where the healer had reset it only days ago. There was probably still a nasty arrow wound in her leg as well, and a menagerie of bruises on her skin beneath her clothes. Azgeda had not been kind to her when they transported her to the capital. She needed to be in bed.

But short of dragging her there forcefully, there wasn’t much she could do to stop Beck from wandering off on her own. It was well within her ability to do that, but she wouldn’t. The witch was not her captive, and if she wished to leave, so be it.

She let out a soft sigh. “Very well.”

When she turned to follow, Beck had already bent down and picked up a basket sitting by the door that Lexa had not noticed. She precariously lodged it between her hip and her good arm as she slipped out the door into the dark hall. Lexa followed silently, unsure what she could even say to fill the silence if she’d have wanted to. In the light of a torch at the end of the hall, she could see the witch was still limping slightly, but she was still walking quickly.

“My healers said your leg was still injured.” She said, broaching the subject carefully. In her short time of knowing Beck, she had learned the witch didn’t take kindly to being told what to do.

Beck shrugged, and Lexa’s eyes lingered on the way her golden curls glinted in the light of the torch for just a little too long. “It’s doing just fine.”

She was certain if Beck lifted up her long skirt the arrow wound would still be red and swollen, that if the healer assessed the injury he’d send her back to bed to rest, but she didn’t argue. If she were injured she’d do the same. Weakness was not a luxury she could afford. Did witches also value strength? Were they made to cover up their pain for fear their own people would judge them for it? Beck seemed so open and carefree, but was that persona just a mask to hide behind?

The guards by the Tower door stood stiff with confusion as they saw the pair rounding the corner, and Lexa raised her hand to dismiss them. They would tell Titus, and he’d be irritated with her, but as much as she didn’t want to listen to his constant complaints come sunrise, she didn’t like the way Beck tensed and drew back away from her guards. It was obvious that they made the witch nervous, and Lexa hardly blamed her after Azgeda had dragged her across the coalition lands, beaten, filthy, and half-starved. After that if Beck didn’t assume that all of her people were brutish and cruel it’d be nothing short of a miracle. Her trust would be hard earned, as Lexa’s would have been if she were in her shoes.

They stepped out into the night air, and Lexa scanned the quiet streets for threats while Beck hobbled forward without a second thought. She couldn’t afford to hesitate. If she blinked Beck was likely to be gone by the time she opened her eyes. 

“The city is so quiet here at night.” Beck said. A trail of silver breath trickled from her lips in the chill of the evening. It was too late for even the seediest mead hall to be serving patrons. Perhaps somewhere in the depths of the city where she could not see, there were a few people lingering by a candle, but they would be few and far between. Despite living in the city, most people still rose early to hunt or fish. Soldiers weren’t afforded the luxury of sleeping in. Craftsmen had to rise with the sun to get their wares in order in their stalls. Spending the evening wandering the streets in the light of the full moon was a senseless waste of energy.

“Do witches not sleep?” She asked, mostly joking. Though that was hardly clear from her tone. But Beck let out a soft, musical laugh and tossed a bit of hair behind her shoulder as they walked, and Lexa felt that jittery sensation flicker to life again at the sound. 

“Eventually everything has to sleep.” She was looking off into the distance with a wistful smile on her lips. “But it’s not like this. Some witches prefer the night. Some even specialize in spellcraft that is most powerful under the moon. Others get up to collect spell materials and alchemical supplies that aren’t there during the day or they fight off sleep to finish working on a project. There’s always folks singing around fires and dancing to the tune. Night markets pop up somewhere new every evening, and you have to find your way there by the smell of street food and the glow of crystal lanterns.”

Lexa felt both an intense curiosity and a pang of sorrow at the wonders the witch described. “Polis must bore you.” 

The witch leaned her weight off of her bad leg and spun in a circle, looking up at the night sky and then around to the quiet city. If Lexa hadn’t seen her when she’d first been brought to the capital, she’d wonder if the smile ever left Beck’s face. Moonlight shimmered off of her hair as she twirled, and glowed silver along her cheeks. 

“Not at all. Everything here is different.” She began to walk once more, headed for the woods behind the city. “I can feel them all dreaming here. All at once. And when I dream with them I feel their power in the dream realm spread out like a beacon. Power they aren’t even aware they wield. It’s---harmonious. Beautiful. Foreign. Peaceful. How could it possibly bore me?”

Lexa couldn’t be sure what any of that meant. She had received visions before, dreams from the previous commanders showing her wisdom, but she knew nothing of a realm of dreams. But as the witch described it, quiet, breathy, and reverent, Lexa felt as if their emotions were bleeding together, and that even if she did not have a rational explanation of the witch’s words, she understood by feeling.

They walked out of the city and into the woods in silence after that. Something peaceful had settled inside her chest, and Lexa clung to that rare feeling desperately. She focused on the sound of their muffled footfalls on the dirt path and the whisper of the wind gently stirring the brush. Animals wandered the forest unperturbed by their presence. An owl preening itself on a branch right above her that did not fly away as they passed, and a small herd of deer grazing on the tender grass at the edge of the path walked alongside them for several moments with no fear for their speckled fawns. It felt like a dream, and Lexa feared that if she spoke, it would be shattered and she’d wake in her bed---warm, comfortable, but terribly alone.

Beck gasped and drew her back to reality. Lexa found her hand gripping her sword handle and searching the forest for threats. The woods were shrouded in darkness, and she couldn’t hear anything. When she looked back to the witch, she was kneeling by a cluster of flowers that were glowing faintly. Her fingers gently lifted the petals without breaking them from their stems, and her thumb tenderly stroked their edges.

“What are these?” 

“We call them natshana yongon.” She explained. The little bell shaped flowers grew all over her lands. She remembered being young and sneaking out of the tower with the other nightbloods to gather armfuls of them. She remembered Luna’s hands over hers teaching her how to grind them into a paste, and painting glowing pictures on the tower wall that would fade before Titus ever had the chance to see them. That was so far behind her now that it felt like a different world. They were all gone, all but Luna. Luna who had ran. Luna who had at one time been her closest friend. Luna who hated her so much that she couldn’t bear the sight of her now. But even if the memory had turned bittersweet in her mouth, she still cherished it. 

“Natshana---yo-gun?” 

“Yongon.” She corrected gently. “Moon children in the Maunon tongue. They only bloom at night.”

“Can I take some of them?” Beck asked, looking up at her with an unnecessary plea in her eyes. 

Lexa nodded. “They will fade not long after you pick them. 

Beck began to gently pluck the flowers and tuck them away into an apron she was wearing over her skirt until it was puffed and full. She looked up at Lexa and held out her hand. “Will you help me up?”

It was such a small request, but the flutter in her stomach was back. It was a cold night, but the witch seemed to radiate a warmth. Her gaze gentle and unguarded, her smile soft and ever present. Lexa took her hand and felt a shiver rush down her spine that she desperately tried to cover up as she helped Beck back up. The witch rocked unsteadily and Lexa instinctively reached out and gently grasped her hip when she stumbled forward. Unable to steady herself with her broken arm, Beck couldn’t stop herself from swaying into Lexa’s chest. 

The world came to a crashing halt around her. She could smell the perfume of freshly picked flowers, and feel the tickle of golden curls brush against her neck. Beck was all soft curves and warmth, a refuge from the bite of the evening air around them. She could feel her chest shaking and hear the sound of laughter bubbling through the air.

“I’m so sorry.” The witch said, and as she pulled away Lexa could see her face was flushed. Lexa couldn’t bring herself to laugh. Her heart was racing like a spooked horse, and it was all she could do to keep her breathing steady. She felt Beck squeeze her fingers and then step out of her grasp entirely. “I can’t even stand on my own two feet anymore.”

“It’s fine.” She finally managed, her voice gentler than usual. To give herself something to do other than stare stupidly at the witch, Lexa bent down and scooped up the basket that Beck had dropped while picking flowers. 

“You’re sweet.” Beck reached out and took back her things. “Thank you.”

The sincerity of the complement took her off guard. She’d been called many things in her life---but no one had ever called her sweet. No one other than Costia. 

This was going too far. She needed to get back to the tower. Away from the woods, away from the wild eyed witch. But Beck was already headed down the path again, humming softly as she went. There would be no coaxing her back to the Tower, and she couldn’t bring herself to leave her out in the woods alone. She would just have to control herself.

Beck stopped them by a large pond where the surface was quiet and the reflection of the full more was undisturbed. She sat her basket on a rock and pulled a large bowl and a few small glass bottles. After handing the bowl to Lexa, she removed her apron and reached up to unbutton several of the buttons on her shirt, revealing two large flat crystals hanging from a leather cord on her neck. She tugged on them until they came free, and with careful fingers she took them off her necklace and placed one in the bottom of the bowl. Lexa bit down on the inside of her cheek and fought to keep the stony expression on her face while Beck rearranged the little crystal to her liking. The top of her shirt remained unbuttoned, and Lexa was trying to look anywhere but the dark stain of the tattoo between the witch’s breasts. 

Her voice was barely more than a whisper when she spoke, “What do you want me to do?”

Beck poured the contents of one bottle into the bowl and then took hold of Lexa’s wrist. She wanted to say that this was unnecessary, that if the witch would just give her direction she’d follow, that they shouldn’t be doing---whatever this was. But the words never left her throat. She allowed herself to be pulled out into the cold water until it was up to her hips. 

“All you have to do is hold the bowl still. I’ll pass the crystal over it.” 

Was it her imagination or were her fingers lingering again? 

Beck lifted the crystal above her head and passed it directly over the reflection of the moon in her bowl. A tingling sensation went up through her fingers, and Lexa furrowed her brows. Beck had begun to sing a strange, unintelligible song in a high, breathy tone. Once more she passed the crystal over the bowl and this time the vibration was stronger. The bowl felt---lighter somehow, and it was getting hard to keep her breathing even. Her eyes were locked onto the witch, whose head was tilted up toward the sky as she sang out her spell. She rocked with every slow swing of the crystal, and the water rippled and whispered with the movement of her body. Was all magic so---entrancing to witness?

As far as Lexa knew this was the first intentional magic she’d seen the witch do. She’d seen---something on the day of Beck’s arrival when they had visited her healer, but it had been brought on by fear. There had been no purpose to it. And Lexa had felt like an outsider merely observing the phenomenon. Now she felt the effects of the spell merging with her, running through her body as she held the bowl in her hand.

When the witch finished her song she continued to silently sway for several minutes, soaking up the light of the full moon until the magic waned and she came back to herself. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked the trance away from her eyes and returned to herself. And then the warm smile returned to her face and she looked down into the bowl.

“That should be more than enough.” She said, fishing her crystal from the bottom of the vessel and returning both of them to the leather cord they came from. “Here, help me pour it into the bottles.”

Lexa followed her carefully back to the shore. She wasn’t sure what if anything would happen should she spill the bowl of freshly gathered “moonbeams” and she didn’t intend on finding out. Beck carefully collected the water in her bottles and corked them, then put everything back in her basket. They had just turned to leave when a soft glow caught her eye.

“Wait.” She scooped down to pick up the apron and shook the debris from it before placing it in the basket as well.”

The walk back was quiet. Beck didn’t bombard her with questions or ramble on about something that she didn’t understand like Lexa was used to. She was content to hum softly as they made their way out of the woods and back to the tower.

“I’m glad you came with me.” Beck said once they had crossed the threshold and entered into the city proper. 

“I…” Lexa wasn’t sure what she should say. There was a knot of confusing emotions sitting in her stomach. Desire, longing, loneliness, and fear were all fighting for her attention, and she wasn’t sure which to give into. “I owed you as much, after what the Azgedan forces did to your arm.”

“Well then consider your debt paid in full.” The witch teased, and then she held Lexa’s gaze, her playful expression giving way to something else. Something sincere and hopeful. “Maybe next time you’ll tag along just for fun.”

She couldn’t bring herself to tell the witch that she had no time for fun. That every part of her was meant to belong to her duty. Titus would say it later, once he found out about their midnight tryst. He’d tell her that if she truly cared for the witch that she’d send her home. It would be better just to accept that now. To put an end to her hopeless desire before it truly began. And yet…

Lexa gave the witch a slight nod and turned back to the Tower. “Goodnight, Beck.” 

That playful air seeped back into her tone. “That wasn’t a no.” 

It was still dark when she woke the next morning, but a faint glow greeted her as she opened her eyes. Sitting in a small glass bottle on her bedside table, brilliantly and impossibly shimmering with life, as a twine-bound bundle of the natshana yongon. She propped herself up on an arm and reached out to stroke a shimmering petal, and she felt the magic dance along her fingertips just as she had the night before. And in the privacy of her quarters, she allowed herself a smile.

#I post all of my drabbles to this account bc the theme is more accessible #this theme isn't great for reading long shit #i need to make a bexa tag on this blog tho

[chocoluckchipz]

Dance with Me, Chaton - 11

Read it on A03, WattPad, FF.net

Written for @ladynoirjuly2019

< Previous

11. Vigilante.

Ladybug: Hey, Chat?

Chat Noir: :wave:

Ladybug: How are you?

Chat Noir: Good. You?

Ladybug: I’m well. Thank you for the USB

Chat Noir: Did you get everything you need?

Ladybug: I did. Thank you, Chaton.

Chat Noir: :ok_hand:

Ladybug: Chat?

Chat Noir: What’s up?

Ladybug: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.

Chat Noir: What gave you the idea? I’m fine.

Ladybug: The guys told me you left looking upset, and that you were asking about joining. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked for a meeting in another place. It’s just you always were a little disapproving of me going there, so I didn’t think that’ll be something that would interest you. I’m sorry. I wish I could get you an invitation, but that’s not how it works there. I don’t have that power.

Adrien rolled the ring in his fingers, watching it closely. He wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help but wonder.

Chat Noir: I’ve been told people get in there when life sucks.

Ladybug: Yeah. That's the Master's way of helping the community I guess.

Chat Noir: Do you mind sharing your story? If you want, of course.

Ladybug: Okay. I owe you that much.

Ladybug: There was a girl in my class in lycée who loved to pick on me and make my life a living hell. At first, I tried to ignore her. I thought she’d leave me alone if I do, but she didn’t. So, I tried fighting back. It only made everything worse. She turned everyone in our class against me, even my closest friends. In the end, I couldn't take it anymore. I was on my way to Italy when Master Fu found me. Without telling my parents.

Chat Noir: You ran away from home?

Ladybug: I did. Master Fu stopped me, talked some sense into me and let me join.

Chat Noir: He let you join a nightclub while you were in lycée?

Ladybug: LOL No. I met the girl in lycée. Master Fu found me years later. The girl kind of followed my steps all the way to university and beyond. And, as I’ve already told you, there are strict rules concerning alcohol in Kwami Kave. It’s safe even for younger kids. We aren’t going there to get drunk or high. Everyone’s there got a tale, and Kwami Kave is more like an extended family or a support group if you may.

Chat Noir: So, is Viperion support or a family?

Ladybug: ? Chat, what are you getting at?

Chat Noir: Nothing. Sorry. I was just told you could be dating him, so I was curious.

Ladybug: Who told you that!?

Chat Noir: Idk the guy’s name. No one apart from Viperion bothered to introduce themselves.

Ladybug: I see. We aren’t dating, Chat. We’re close friends, but he’s more like an overprotective older brother.

Chat Noir: Didn’t appear this way to me.

Ladybug: Are you serious? Chat, what’s wrong? Are you jealous or something?

Chat Noir: No. why would I be jealous? We haven’t met and most likely will never do so. I don’t really know you. Neither do you know me. For all you know, I might be married and have kids. I was just telling things the way I saw them.

It took her a few minutes to reply.

Ladybug: I’m sorry, Chaton. I made a mistake inviting you there. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I don’t know yet, but I’m sorry I made you feel bad. Thank you for your help. I’ll try to make you proud by editing those designs to the best of my abilities and, hopefully, at least our mission will end in success.

Chat Noir: You’re right. Maybe this was a mistake. Time will tell. I have to go now. Good luck with the editing.

Ladybug: Thank you, Chat. Good luck to you too.

Adrien closed his phone and shoved it into the pocket. He lied. He had nowhere to go, but he couldn’t continue to chat either. He was being a jerk, and he knew it. If he continued, he’d only make it worse, and he’d already managed to hurt Ladybug as it was. He could sense it. He had to step away. He had to calm down. She didn’t deserve the treatment he was giving her. Him feeling hurt, unworthy and a mistake—that was his issue. He couldn’t bring Ladybug down with him. It was his idea to do this whole thing. He had to be the one to pay the price. Not her.

His gaze travelled to the ring on the table. Then to the card. He read it for the umpteenth time. Who was this Plagg? What kind of introduction “the master of destruction, a force to be reckoned with” was? Who gave out white gold rings near an exclusive, invitation-only club while pretending to be limping? Because that man was pretending. That much was clear to Adrien now.

Well, there was one way to find out, and Adrien had nothing better to do. He pulled his phone out and dialled.

***

If Adrien thought the club stood at a somewhat shady place, it had nothing on the location of Plagg’s studio. Despite uneasiness, Adrien found the building pretty quickly, located the stairs down to the basement, and hesitated. It was a dark, narrow passage down. Flickering lights and wind drafts to add to the creepy mood, Adrien wondered why he’d agreed to this nonsense. But somewhere below, the sound of music echoed through space. It lured, so Adrien inhaled deeply, and closed the door behind himself.

Five minutes later, he located the source. Unlike the constricted staircase and the hallway, the studio was huge. Floor to ceiling mirrors covered with graffiti outlines of dancing people took up all four walls. The floor and the ceiling were painted black. A stage and a throne in its middle stood at the end.

Half lying across it, lounged a man in black baggy pants and a tight sleeveless top, also in black. His hair was messy, a top hat sitting on his head. Adrien judged him to be in his thirties, but he couldn’t tell for sure. The lighting wasn’t too bright.

The man didn’t pay any attention to Adrien, most likely because of the loud music pulsating in the room. Instead, he smacked his lips on what looked like a piece of cheese. Adrien wrinkled his nose. The smell was familiar. Camembert. He suppressed a gag reflex and carefully walked closer, calling, “Hello? M Plagg?”

“Drop the Monsieur, kid,” the man grumbled and kicked the boombox with his feet. The music stopped. He slowly got up and looked at Adrien. “Call me Plagg or you can leave right now.”

Adrien inhaled. He swore Plagg’s green eyes glowed. This couldn’t be just the effect of lighting and contrast with his black hair, now could it? Whatever it was, he’d think about that later. For now, he mumbled, “All right. Good evening, Plagg.”

“Adrien, I presume?” Plagg walked closer and circled around him.

“Yes. That’s me.”

“You’ve got the invitation?”

“I got a ring.” Adrien raised his hand and showed it to Plagg. “Is that it?”

“Nice work,” Plagg hummed, taking a better look at the ring. “For all he is, Master still has it.”

“Master Fu? As in the club’s owner? Is that who he was?”

Plagg paused, observing Adrien in silence. Then turned around and walked a few feet away. “If he didn’t introduce himself to you, I’m not the one to do it. Why are you here?”

“I…” Adrien hesitated. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure why he was here. He was curious, so he called. An automated message gave him instructions on what to do and where to go. He could've ended it there, but Adrien didn’t. Instead, he wrote everything down and came at an appointed time to the appointed place. What did he want? He wasn’t sure, but his heart tightened as the images of Ladybug dancing flowed before his eyes, images of her partners, images of the multitude of people all moving to the sound. That feeling…

“I want to learn to dance despite the rain,” Adrien whispered.

“Bullshit!” Plagg snapped, his back to Adrien. “Don’t repeat the old man’s words. Tell me what you want, Adrien.”

Adrien looked to the side, answering a few moments later. “I don’t really know. Maybe to get into that club? It looked nice.”

“That’s better.” Plagg side glanced at him. “Be more specific. Why do you want to get into that club?”

“To escape?”

“From what exactly?”

“My hectic life?”

“You don’t like your life, kid? I’ve heard it’s a pretty nice one.”

“You know who I am?”

“Master never invites anyone without knowing who they are.”

“How much do you know?”

Plagg turned around, his hands in his pockets. “Enough to see how pathetic, miserable, and lonely you’ve become after your mother passed away and left you with a shit human being for a father. Isn’t it right, Adrien Agreste?”

His pulse quickening, Adrien sucked in the air, his eyes widening. In a split second, he composed himself, his sight dropping to the floor. “He isn’t so bad. He’s just busy.”

“Oh, yes! He’s just busy,” Plagg mocked and headed back to his throne. “I know how busy they get, kid. Too busy to properly mourn for themselves, and so shutting everyone else out, including their remaining family. Too busy to support their teenage children during the hardest time of their life. Too busy to be there for them during all the important events after that. Too busy to see that their kids are depressed for a good while of their lives. Too busy to see what their children want, instead, pushing their own ideas on them. Too busy to be fathers. You’re right, kid. He’s just too busy.”

Adrien’s eyes wide, he whispered, “How do you know all this?”

Plagg turned around and smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Magic, kid. Magic.” His face saddened for a split moment, eyes shifting to the side, as he murmured, “Magic and experience.” Plagg kicked the boom box, and the music blasted through space. He twisted and started towards Adrien, moving to the music.

“So, what do you really want from me, kid? You can buy any membership to any exclusive club you desire, yet you got your eyes on Kwami Kave. Why? Why do you need to go to the nightclub at all? Isn't your fancy upper-class life enough for you? They don't ballroom dance there as you know. Street dancing, hip-hop, break, you name it. Everything that gets your blood moving. Why would you subject yourself to that? I’m sure you’ve got better things to do. What brought you here?”

Adrien closed his eyes. He could feel the vibrations of music on his skin. He felt Plagg doing his moves around him. What brought him here? What did he want? What did he really desire for?

“Freedom,” Adrien breathed, opening his eyes and looking straight into Plagg’s. “I want freedom.”

Plagg stood up straight and smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Good.”

“Can you give it to me?”

“No,” Plagg replied. “Only you can free yourself, kid. All I can do is to teach you how to dance despite the rain. Do you want that?”

His heart pumping hard, Adrien nodded absentmindedly.

Plagg smirked, and moonwalked to his boombox, kicking it again to stop the music. He jumped into his throne and said. “My fee’s a wheel of Camembert a lesson.”

Adrien frowned. “Camembert?”

“You don’t like it? Fine, I’ll make it three.”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. “Three wheels of a Camembert?”

“Geez, kid.” Plagg rolled his eyes. “You’re such a pain already. All right. Five wheels of Camembert a lesson. But only because you’re begging.”

Adrien opened his mouth but thought better of it, nodding instead. “When do we start?”

Plagg grinned, a spark in his eyes. “Right now.”

“But—I’m not ready, and I don’t have Camembert with me.”

“I do an evaluation for free. Show me what you’ve got.”

“Nothing," Adrien said.

“What do you mean?” Plagg frowned. “Everyone has at least something.”

“Well, I might be an exception, because all I know is ballroom dancing, and that’s now what you want to see, isn’t it?”

“That’s not what I asked you for.” Plagg groaned and walked closer. He grabbed Adrien’s shirt at his chest. “Remove this. No one’s dancing in my studio in a suit and a tie.”

Silently, Adrien took off his jacket and his tie.

“Unbutton the shirt.”

“Do I really—”

“If you want me to teach you, I’ve got to see what you’ve got. Unbutton the shirt.”

Adrien complied.

Plagg measured with his eyes. “You look to be in decent shape.”

“I’ve been working out regularly for as long as I can remember.”

“Good. Then you’ve got the body, but no moves. Any particular style you’d like to muster?”

Adrien could practically feel his heart racing. “I want to dance like Ladybug.”

“Ladybug?”

“At the club. I saw a girl named Ladybug dancing.”

Plagg puffed. “I see.” He smirked and walked around Adrien. “You know, Tikki and I are old rivals.”

“Who is Tikki?”

“Ladybug’s dance instructor.”

“Can you teach me the same skills?”

“I can teach you better,” Plagg grinned. “Congrats, kid. You’ve got yourself a dance instructor.”

Goosebumps ran across up Adrien’s spine. Yet the pit of his stomach stirred with excitement.

***

Ladybug: Chaton? You’ve been silent for a few days. Are you still upset with me? I know, I wasn’t reaching out, but I was trying to give you some space and hoped you'd text me when you’re ready, but it’s Thursday already, and you didn’t text me, so I’m worried. I don’t know if you were wondering, but if you were, I’m done with editing the collection. I’ve also heard someone emailed an anonymous poll to all the designers. That was you, wasn’t? So, I guess, all that is left is to email this all to Hawkmoth, right?

Ladybug: I don’t want to do it alone. You’ve been by my side all this time. I can’t continue without you. I won’t continue without you.

Chat Noir: Are you sure you want me there, though? After the way I behaved. :embarrassed:

Ladybug: Of course, I do. We're a team and even if we might fight, we are still a team, and there is no one I'd rather have by my side for this than you.

Chat Noir: I’m sorry.

Chat Noir: I meant to write to you, but I didn’t know how to start or what to say. I’m sorry for snapping at you and crossing all imaginative boundaries.

Ladybug: I’m sorry. Chaton. That’s my fault. I should’ve chosen another place.

Chat Noir: That’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It was for the best.

Ladybug: It was? How?

Chat Noir: Well, I got to see you, for one. You look amazing, by the way. The way you danced I shall imprint into my memory for life.

Ladybug: I’m glad you liked it.

Chat Noir: And I’ve decided that I also needed a stress relief hobby, so I kind of looked around, and I think I found one. It’s a pain in you know what for now, but I was promised it gets better.

Ladybug: I’m so happy for you! What did you find?

Chat Noir: A secret :3 I’ll tell you when I’ll get good at it.

Ladybug: That’s a deal! So, truce?

Chat Noir: There never was a war, my Lady. There was only a jerk me who hurt you undeservingly. :ashamed:

Ladybug: We both played our parts. Let’s forget it and move on. :heart:

Chat Noir: You’re awesome. :crying: Can’t wait to see what you’ve done to the collection.

Ladybug: Should I email it to him now?

Chat Noir: Can’t see why not, Mlle Vigilante? Give me a few to forward you the poll results and launch the attack.

Ladybug: XD You’re a dork, Chaton. But thank you. I would’ve never been able to accomplish this without your help. It means a lot.

Adrien grinned at his phone.

Chat Noir: Thank you, my Lady. You’ve changed my life in ways you do not know yet.

Ladybug: Hopefully for better?

Chat Noir: For the best. Gtg now. Keeping my fingers crossed this goes through smoothly.

Ladybug: Me too. Just got your email. Impressive results.

Chat Noir: They really are. 95% are on our side. Before I go, my Lady, can I ask you something?

Ladybug: Go ahead.

Chat Noir: If everything goes smoothly, will you go on a date with me?

Adrien didn’t expect himself to be so daring, but somehow he was. He held his breath for those few minutes that she took to reply, but the answer was more than he could’ve hoped for in their situation.

Ladybug: I’ll think about it. Goodnight, Chaton.

Chat Noir: !!!

Chat Noir: That’s not a No. I can die happy. :grin:

Chat Noir: Goodnight, my Lady.

_______________________________________________________________________

Next >

#ladynoirjuly2019 #miraculous ladybug #LadyNoir July #LadyNoir #human plagg #I love him

[advernia]

push me off a bridge (to catch me as i fall)

a separate post for my ramblings for this fic!! it’s actually the longest thing i’ve written in a while, so i have a lot to ramble about haha;;

prelude

oh man... this started when two of my friends decided to go through edgar’s route at the same time AND also decided to go reacting to every single part of the route through burst texting AT THE SAME TIME, effectively flooding my inbox.... they were fully aware that i was at a seminar and unable to reply... now my inbox is filled with so much edgar screaming i cannot... (゜▽゜;)

screaming aside they were also very willing to read whatever drafts of edgar/mc i had available and this was their favorite!! thanks to them, i decided to finish this omfg... i’m actually so proud that i got this done but tbh it was getting so long that i had half a mind to let go of it already halfway through scene three haha... (;*△*;)

this has uh... some fighting scenes and tbh the first draft had absolutely none of it... this is my first time actually writing long(?) scenes and while i found thinking about them to be fun, putting them into words was some struggle??? like... i've been told that it looks okay but idk it feels clunky to me. oh well ＼| ￣ヘ￣|／

general stuff + war phase, baby!

initially this was only meant to be 3 parts + primarily focused on edgar/mc + with an unnamed mc as usual! but then since it’s an au of kyle’s route, i found myself wanting to flesh out the relationship of edgar & mc when set in a different angle + circumstances rather than just automatically implying attraction...

plus their relationship canonically starts off on the wrong foot in that route & edgar’s fully aware that mc isn’t exactly comfortable around him, so it really doesn’t sit well if i just... put them together, lol. so thus we have five scenes of them getting(?) closer!(???)

in short its a hella slow burn and not gonna lie, when i was writing their scenes i was like f i n a l l y... bless... ಠ ּ͜೦

one of the reasons i like kyle’s route is bc i actually got some feel of an actual war??? idk i think there’s so much plot that u can fill in with it, so i decided going for alternating scenes of the battlefield + med tent. while there's glimpses of the action going on, there’s also the sort of complimenting(???) or offsetting more emotional perspective of what goes on with the medics. 

tbh i stared long and hard at the cradle map when formulating some tactics and i gotta say i had a hard time calming myself down bc... 

in kyle’s route, the red army has the advantage and have pushed the black army as far back as to their bridge, which means that more or less they’ve occupied central quarter... but what dawned on me was... where the hell did the red army position their encampment from there??? 

was an encampment even necessary given that they’re like, in a really convenient area????? they probably could’ve settled themselves in some houses but tbh okay maybe it isn’t so noble of the reds to do (imposing themselves n’ stuff) + they have larger numbers so accommodating all of them is a problem but still... where’d they set up camp??? u see, when kyle + mc step out of the med tent it shows the forest bg, so... where??? on the edges of the central quarter area are where u can see them trees??? on the civic center roof?!?!

well... a decent answer is that they could’ve set up several encampments around the area to ensure their hold on the central quarter... it still raises some questions but honestly it makes a lot more sense... but if not and they really decided to camp out like one big happy family all together, then don’t even get me started on the possibility that the camp was stationed somewhere around here:

because doing that doesn’t have a single lick of sense omfg especially tactics-wise haha... that’s like... why would you do that... you’re wasting all your advantages... o h  b o y... so you bet when i remembered that mc + loki had to pass by a forest to get back to the encampment + encountered ray & some disciples i was like... u m m... why???? if technically the reds took hold of the whole central quarter area then it actually isn’t necessary to skulk around in the forest?????? yes yes i know safety precautions + avoiding detection but... dood... it’s safer to walk in claimed territory rather than the unstable one ahaha...

plus the thing about the black bridge... uh... it's just said in the route that lancelot handles it through magic and that's all. but when i thought back on it oh my god... what did he do??????? how is he still standing??? how much of his lifespan did he shave off just to salvage that situation??????????? how is the poor boi alive?????????? the whole fucking bridge literally falls apart and that's a whole lot of chaos and people and AHHHHH!?!?!¿¿¿¿ if ur gonna make the bridge collapse (good thing they didn't think of disintegrate) it probably cost the magic tower a hefty amount but get rekt lancelot still saves the fucking day, what a king - he's practically got one foot in the grave already... this dood, seriously ಥ_ಥ

there were other things i noticed in the process of writing this based on the route events but i was like fuck it, let’s think on that another day and leave it as it is (┛ಠДಠ)┛彡┻━┻ ily kyle but oh no my brain started reprocessing the other details of ur route

thinking about all that also made me think of other more stuff, like cradle economy + livelihood haha;; it’s stated in edgar’s route (well... it’s actually pretty obvious in other routes too) that the reds are richer than the blacks, so i went ahead and assumed that the former engages in something more lucrative like mining -> jewerly / raw material / mineral trade, while for the latter something more wholesome like agriculture. idk, it works. even moreso that the reds give off the whole nobility vibe while the blacks are simple and casual. even the bg screens of the red & black streets are polarizing.

then i also went over the rest of the chosen thirteen... while the reds show no obvious weapon variety (see: swords), i’d like to believe that they’re taught to be versatile enough no matter what the situation. plus, since they have the funding, i'd like to think they're skilled in magic manipulation, too. meanwhile the black army shows weapon variety, and i’d like to think that it’s because most of their recruits aren’t soldiers in the first place: they’re farmhands / hunters / village people turned soldiers, and it’s actually easier to let them go with what they know first before encouraging them or asking them to learn something new. thus axes and spears and possible unconventional stuff like caltrops.

crimson glory

one of the things i realized was in kyle’s route, mc isn’t exactly so buddy-buddy with the red crew in comparison to other routes. she gets minimal interactions with the four, and zero aside her relationships with the top three are rather... tense.

zero was the other red officer i was initially going to add aside from edgar & kyle, but i added all of them anyway. while they don't appear all together, all of them have scenes together with edgar.

the first edgar & jonah scene shows an obvious contrast - while he's being incredibly critical about it, jonah shows actual concern for the living situations in black army territory. on the other hand, edgar chooses to tease him about it, his joking more or less implying that he isn't that concerned / bothered about it at all. the game touches up on this sometimes, often with edgar commenting on how noble jonah is while jonah shows obvious distaste for edgar's callousness.

still, they work well together. personally i'm amused with a hc of mine that looking at how edgar fights / acts only spurs jonah to act more honorably while for edgar, being exposed to jonah's noble-ness more or less makes him curious to try being honorable from time to time lol. that still doesn't stop anyone from calling him the gentle demon tho ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

tbh since edgar is obviously sneaky on other routes i wouldn't put it past him to casually pressure lancelot to tell him wtf's going on with this war when he gets the inkling that something's wrong. edgar goes about this subtly not-so-subtly and in the most polite manner possible. lancelot knows him far too well to take bait tho - he makes sure to speak carefully since he's probably knows that edgar's going to pick apart at his words for meanings + implications, so it more or less leaves edgar a bit frustrated since it's clear that lancelot won't tell him much. still, edgar knows when not to cross the line - even he's not so keen on getting on lancelot's bad side.

that aside, i'd like to think that edgar respects lancelot a lot as a person + commander enough that he'd truly risk his life for him on instinct like a true soldier would. while i think i could've done more on writing the gravity of the collapsing bridge scene, i liked the last bit where edgar + zero immediately worried for lancelot.

let's be honest here tho in some way or another all of the reds chosen worry about their king bc bruh... let us in bruh...

the scenes of zero & edgar in the end are also my favorite! it isn’t much, but enjoyed writing their relationship briefly. tbh i think edgar is one of those people under the sleep = most vulnerable = death thinking (no thanks to claudius), so the fact that he allows himself to drift to sleep twice in zero's company is a definite sign of trust. then again, he's injured but still ( ᐛ )و

edgar, idike, kyle

y’know even if this is an edgar/mc thing, i found fleshing out the kyle/mc relationship equally important which i presented in scene three. personally speaking, i’d like to think that if ever kyle didn’t fall in love with mc (on his own route???) he’d still be watching over her anyway since her struggle in the medical field + war reminds him a bit of his younger self after his brother's death.

which is why he doesn't intervene with that one soldier scene - he doesn't coddle her either when she goes into a brief shock. perhaps it's bc he knows so well what she's going through, he decides to let her handle it on her own. this was her experience, not his. and to be fair, she asked to go to the front lines determined but wholly unprepared emotionally. he tried warning her, she wouldn’t listen. now she faces the consequences - how would she go about it?

i decided to slap a name into mc this time to highlight the trust plot: idk if i got it clearly across in the fic, but in times of war + for someone who’s been trained to be suspicious / cautious of everyone like edgar; secrets are a surefire way to catch attention + breed distrust.

tbh he's hella aware that the secret around her name is most likely personal and nothing dangerous, but it's better safe than sorry - by making sure she understands that keeping secrets wouldn't be of any good to her + situation, he gets reassurance that she really is harmless. how bad + seriously she takes it honestly surprises him tho, but then again she's been going through other stuff too so it all piled up.

idike isn’t my in-game name, but it’s the given name i spoke of in this ask, haha! initially scene five has her saying her full name (with surname), but i thought it would be more fitting if i didn’t lol ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

i tried to incorporate a mix of the personalities of edgar’s!mc + kyle’s!mc onto idike, tho at first i was only shooting for the latter - i think it kinda works??? while somewhat composed and determined (kyle’s), she still shows some naivete in her (edgar’s), especially concerning the ways of war + how secrecy & trust work in times of war.

i found emphasizing on her emotional struggle important, since it should be a big blow for her who’s never known the terror of war. the game touches upon on it a bit (tho it's post-med tent scenes) and i wanted to expand on it further since there are so many possible angles to go about it.

the i can’t heal you if you’re dead line sounds like something like shiro emiya might say but lol no i just remembered this p3 manga panel (pg 24) - its been years since i read it and i still love that line and i integrated it here... i was trying to expand that one scene for a while but then i just left it as it is.

in the catharsis scene where idike airs out everything, the fact that edgar fails to empathize with her + focuses more on her emotional state rather than offering actual help (advice maybe, but i honestly doubt he’d do that) reflects that he's still looking at her as an interesting creature and not her as a person. part 5 hints that this may be slowly changing, seeing as he called for her all of a sudden.

... idike probably keeps edgar’s glove as a token of friendship or smth haha ooPSSS i forgot to bring that back ahahaha..... ヘ（。□°）ヘ

ooofff i guess that’s all i have??? a big thank you to whoever read both hot messes™ and by that the fic + commentary itself!!! do feel free to hit the inbox for any comments + questions + more brainstorming + general screaming haha! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

#rundown.txt #the last long fic i wrote was a 6k+ fe:if thing #that was 3 years ago whoooaaaa #apparently i went the extra mile for this one omfg

[the-textbased-jiaqiverse]

[Start of Log 073]

Log 073: The Cigar

*sighs* This is my fault... well not all my fault! Why do I have this story to tell today you may ask—if you may ask I mean—it all begins with John and James.

Yes, I write and save little love letters and love poems to Dice, yes, I do that ok? Just dunno how to up and say it to him sometimes... but I think he might have read them though, somehow... I probably deleted thousands of drafts and stuff. Hey why do I mention stuff I deleted? Well...

I needed this file from our archive, I needed John and James to pull it out, what happened is that I wanted to get it as fast as possible so I forwarded these wishes to John and James, I didn’t want to hang around them when it seemed like they always have the words *quotes*“we want to embarrass you BADLY” written on their faces recently. Right, I told them to look for file 021125, and observed them type in 155... not a joke! 115 oops, 155! I was like, “I was NOT telling you how many of these numbers are there, it’s 1 zero, 1 two, 2 ones, then 1 two and 1 five!” It was when they literally typed in 1012211215 that I realized they were trying to stall me, and well, build tension for something they possibly waited for a long time to do. I didn’t want none of that crap, so I shouted, “just type this in! Digit by digit alright?!! 0, 2, 1, 1, 2, 5!” That was easy right? No they entered sloth mode!

“0”, yes you typed zero, hooray! Now go for two, that’s right, it’s right there, look IT’S RIGHT THERE! Just put your finger on it, no no no why are you now pointing to 1, I said 2!! Oh that’s right now you’re there, type 2, 2, 2!!!!!!

“2” oh thank God! Now go for 1, yes 1, no not 0 NO NO NO! Ok yes, 1, yes. Should I remind you of the next three numbers? Because at this rate when you finished typing the 1 you would’ve forgotten the next three numbers already!

“1” on second thought, if I reminded you the 125 you might just mess up the entire file number so we have to start over if I can guess what you are thinking. WAIT WHY ARE YOU GOING TO 0? Look you don’t have to start from 0 and move to the number every flipping time!

“1” this is an eternity! Wait is it just me or did you slow down? Can you be ANY slower than you were just now? Apparently yes! OMG I can feel my life flash in front of my eyes. I still have so much to do and so much to fix! Have I told Dice that I loved him?

“2” if it wasn’t for the little screen with the search bar I would have forgotten where we were at myself! ............................................................

*reenacts the scene himself* “5” FINALLY!!! Now you just have to click “search”... wait a sec...... UUUUUUUUHHHHHH!!!!! They can still drag this on!!!!!!

*keeps reenacting* right so John finally clicks “search”, and the file shows up right? So I directed, “tap on it!”, so the file would be extracted, but........... how does one accidentally click on the delete button while opening up the file??!!! Especially when you are made to do things for us with precision and elegance?!

*reenacts the convo* “Hey boozoos! You know I would go to Dice about your, INCOMPETENCE right?” “Aw chill out, don’t go yet, we can still recover the file,” John said it without a thread of dread, so I know something had to be amiss, because they are usually scared of Dice hearing about them messing with me. “JUST GET ME THE FILE!!!” “Ok Boss,” but recovers something else, “oh what’s this? ‘Dice, not a moment passes without me thinking of your soft skin, oh how I longed to have you in my arms!’ What is this cringe Boss? Oh and, ‘you are life’s greatest gift for me’, why is this in the trash Boss? Little pieces like ‘when you and I are alone I gained my own piece of heaven,’ why this cringe Boss? You know practically everyone working in this casino can see this, don’t you? Why don’t you report your little works of art to Mr. King Dice too?”

I practically broke into Dice’s office after that!

Dice just stared at me knowingly and said, “it was John and James again wasn’t it?” I almost cried and I thought it would be very clever to say “Dice you love me right?” And confess that I wrote some cringeworthy stuff about us two, just before I let Dice get back to work... probably became one of the reasons why Mr. Wheezy turned out like this...

I thought Dice couldn’t look more dumbfounded than he did then—when I confessed, but I had a whole new idea after seeing his reaction to Wheezy’s nonsense.

So, Wheezy’s first day on the job. I actually liked him a lot, Wheezy is really just a simple guy, he fit right in with our existing staff, he is very down to earth, everyone liked him. The best part? Wheezy is not trying to play tricks all the time like John and James would do, he was so enthusiastic and was very good at his job. I heard from James that Wheezy threw that arson rat out long before he got mad and torched our property again, just because he thought that guy didn’t feel right. Wheezy was lit, literally. Every one of our employees cheered for him.

Huh... you know, why would Dice light that stupid cigar right? Probably because of the fact that he was really distracted by my cringe stuff...

I was happy about all Wheezy’s hard work, but James up and said that guy was for some reason very off, and I should keep a good eye on him. At the time I even teased James, “Aww you probably thought he’s off because you are jealous that I liked him more than you and John, Wheezy listens to me without trouble at least, UNLIKE YOU TWO, haww-hawww, be jealous pal, be very jealous.” I should have paid attention when he said, *impersonates, reenacts the tone of urgency* “I am not joking around this time, I’m being serious! John thinks so too.” But I didn’t think much of it, I mean, Wheezy’s perfect as long as he does whatever Dice and I wanted him to do without overthinking or messing around, the casino is never this in order—something would always go wrong with those costumers—this peace and quiet is all thanks to Wheezy kicking the rat out. I seriously thought Wheezy is like a lucky charm! Why didn’t I realize that those days could have been just some of our quieter days.

Wheezy ended up not being very busy, then he apparently wanted to just walk around and find somethings that he can lend a hand to. He did find something...

Right after offering to heat Mangosteen’s dinner, which is NOT part of his job, Wheezy found out Pip and Dot had a gas leak going on in their room, he volunteered to fix the issue, which is also NOT part of his job. Needless to say, lit cigar plus gas right?

BOOOOOOOOM!!!!!

Now I get it! Wheezy is trying way too hard to do ALL the jobs just because he might want to feel validated and he liked that feeling.

Dice told me later that night that he intended to be calm and collected when he had to talk to Wheezy about how half our staff quarters exploded, but he just can’t hold it in... when Wheezy accidentally made a pun. He tried his best to calm himself again and explained why the explosion happened to Wheezy—Wheezy had no idea why!—he has to explain as best as he can. It seemed that Wheezy did understand, and he said he would stay far away from future gas leaks. After all this Dice is just completely and utterly exhausted.

As we were drifting off to sleep, Dice got a call and this is when his jaw just dropped, that was the most dumbfounded he had ever appeared to be. John and James were tasked to fix the gas leak, clean up and restore our staff’s rooms, that should have taken no longer than 5 minutes, but somehow in that little interval of time mangosteen was just UNBEARABLY hungry and wanted more food, mind you he had dinner—the dinner Wheezy heated for him remember?! His room was one of those that was completely taken out by the explosion, and he can’t wait 5 minutes. So being the good *ironic*“resourceful” person he is, Wheezy offered to heat a can of food from his room for Mangosteen, HHHHHHH...... HAHAHAHAHA, I shouldn’t be laughing but, let’s describe it with Wheezy’s own words like how John did on the call, *clears throat* “I read the label on that can, it said ‘DO NOT PUT CAN IN MICROWAVE OVEN’, so I poured out the food into my metal pot and put that into the microwave, I’m not stupid.”... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... and then “Well of course I put the metal pot in there too! Geez I’m not going to just put the food in there silly” And the microwave caught on fire, our staff tried to put it out but it didn’t work, so now the remaining half of their quarters is gone as well, John and James didn’t even know how to tell us about that! After 1 minute of silence Dice finally told them to split up, keep an eye on everyone as the other quickly rebuild everything, otherwise no one would get any rest at all. Guess who got no rest in the end, Dice, he was so... shocked, he spent this whole night making this group of cigarettes to “assist” Wheezy—actually to keep him under close watch.

Fast forward to yesterday, 3 days after the last gas leak incident.

Everyone got along just well, especially Wheezy and the cigarettes, they bonded like brothers. They are like heroes to the majority of our staff, lending helping hands and keeping potential troublemakers away. You think everyone would hate Wheezy’s guts after what happened with their quarters right? Apparently not... For some reason. This time they really want to impress Dice and I, maybe to make up for the fact that they made such a mess, or get more validation, idk. The problem is that they went to an extreme length. They were everywhere, and they are *quotes*“nice” to the point that it’s intimidating! Once, Wheezy and two cigarettes actually followed Dice into the washroom and asked if he needed assistance there, I didn’t hear that part at that time but I did hear a loud “EXCUSE ME?!!” from Dice. I dragged them out and nearly beat them dead. Dice stopped me, why Dice I should’ve beat them dead so they wouldn’t cause all this trouble yesterday! At that time Dice probably wanted to believe that they’re just not clever enough and we have to patiently explain EVERYTHING to them, including personal boundaries, and what their jobs actually include.

John and James couldn’t focus on their jobs because they spent so much energy on watching the cigarettes, still had that lingering doubt about them. You see, John and James didn’t check the pressure of our gas lines or something and there was an even bigger leak starting out from our basement. Guess what, being the room closest to the basement, Pip and Dot’s room is once again filled with the smell of gas, and they just assumed there’s a leak in their room again. What did they do may I ask? Did they go to John or James, or Dice, or me with the problem? NO, they turned to their group of friends, which unfortunately includes Wheezy......

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!!!!!

Half of our casino was gone with the blast!

And yeah... we somehow managed to be calm enough to clean ourselves up and have a late dinner like nothing stupid happened.

I checked with everyone, and imagine my surprise when I found John and James working alone on rebuilding the casino. Then it hit me, I really haven’t seen Wheezy and his cigarettes!

This is what I found them doing...

At that point it was already late, and Dice was still covered in ashes, I had to pull him away from the situation because I can clearly see that they are not on the same page.

It was then I found out from Dice, that he found out from our staff, that Wheezy did want to dive headfirst into the gas again! Wheezy completely forgot about the last incident and what Dice tried to tell him! Which means he had to repeat all that once again... Luckily the little cigarettes stopped him and reminded him that HE cannot go near the gas leak and Wheezy was all “yeah yeah yeah”. According to our staff the cigarettes also prevented him from putting metal into the microwave YET AGAIN, so thumbs up for them there. Then why was there still an explosion? That’s because Wheezy worked his magic and convinced one of the cigarettes to go repair the leak in his place! Why not ANYONE ELSE? I DON’T KNOW! It was then I knew stupidity is probably contagious... all I need to say is, that little cigarette that went in is of course, lit!

Now I get it, saying Wheezy is not allowed to fix gas leaks was not enough, we have to address each and every cigarette and tell them they are not allowed to do so as well! But what’s weird about this is that while this time Dice tried to tell them all that they can’t help with a gas leak, because they are lit cigarettes, Wheezy just blew into this sudden rage and exploded about how being cigarettes didn’t mean that they can’t help and he didn’t like how Dice kept thinking cigarettes are not good enough. Then he called Dice every name in the Inkwell version of a dictionary. This came out of nowhere whatsoever! Did something ridiculous just click to him somehow? We never said or indicated ANYTHING like that to them right? Knowing Wheezy he probably wasn’t trying to, or plainly couldn’t make this kind of a joke for laughs, he basically accused Dice of thinking all that. The biggest issue is that Dice couldn’t get them to understand that they took what he is saying wrong, therefore the conversation went between Dice talking about how scientifically, LIT cigarettes can’t mix with gas, and Wheezy taking that and applying that to all things unrelated and believing further and further that Dice is just not willing to give him this pet on his back no matter what he does, because of an unrelated reason, so Wheezy hates an idea that he gets out of whatever Dice is trying to say even when that’s clearly not what he meant AT ALL, and he feels the overwhelming need to attack Dice for it. UHH!! Wow I wish I listen to John and James, I mean they were right about most people!

Hey I hope Wheezy snaps out of this eventually right?

[End of Log 073]

Lmao when Mr. Wheezy says “I’m not stupid” and proceeds to tell someone else that they’re “silly” after burning his microwave oven

Inkwell version insults, what would all of those be like?

Piece the timeline together (use hints like the log numbers and certain contents), otherwise it wouldn’t make sense how one minute Wheezy hated KD then the next he worshiped him

There’s a follow-up to this!

#cuphead #cuphead don’t deal with the devil #cuphead fanfic #cutscene characters #skeletons #king dice #cuphead king dice #cuphead devil #snake eyes #cuphead snake eyes #devil dice #mr wheezy #cuphead mr wheezy #hocus pocus #phear lap

[ace-malarky]

Character Creation Tag #3

tagged by @hvamulan, thanks!

 Continuing down the Expect to Fly character list, I guess? We’ll go with Erith! Halfway through the friend group!

1. What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering? (Name, appearance, backstory etc.)

Possibly just like... her name...

 idk I needed friends for Ifernia to bounce off etc so I looked at what I liked about my friends and... switched that about a bit? I guess?

2. Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind?

 Not especially! I knew she was going to be the voice of reason kinda thing so she had to be someone the others sort of listened to if not necessarily looked up to (I mean they’re all 16 or thereabouts no one’s looking up to anyone)

3. How did you choose their name?

 I’m fairly sure I picked syllables and went “ah yes, that sounds nice” and rolled on

4. In developing their backstory, what elements of the world they lived in played the most influential parts?

Haha backstory what backstory

 Nah uh well with the last edit of the book I changed up a lot with the friend group, and part of that was making Erith bi, poly, trans, but I didn’t want it to be a “find thyself” arc because she’s kinda minor (and also I’m not half those things so I didn’t want to do it badly etc) so she’s just confident in them from the start. o I had to think what kinda home life she’d’ve had to be that confident and clear about everything, and so unapologetic about what she is (I mean she doesn’t shout it from the rooftops but she also doesn’t shy away if people ask, ya get me?)

 I think I gave her two dads? everyone’s backstory is a constant work in progress. I just pull what I need to for what’s at hand and sort of... make stuff up as I go along and hope it doesn’t clash with anything I’ve said before.

5. Is there any significance behind their hair colour?

nah listen I literally picked their face character out like the other day as I was falling asleep

6. Is there any significance behind their eye colour?

see above, buddy

7. Is there any significance behind their height?

not especially! I think she’s... possibly the shortest in the group? Idk. I sorta get the impression that she’s small and soft and round. Good for comfort. Best at hugs. good pillow etc

8. What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story?

 Not much, tbh? She’s got a level of comfort with herself that I never had, and she’s able to confidently assume people will listen to her when she says a thing. She’s also. you know. able to say things without second guessing herself and letting the moment pass

9. Are they based off you in some way?

 actually no! for once haha

10. Did you know what the OC’s sexuality would be at the time of their creation?

Nooooope

 I mean in the original draft they were all straight lmao. Ifernia is legit the only one that’s stayed that way

11. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits etc.)

 I occasionally find it hard writing from her point of view for side things? I mean I’ve only written one thing from her point of view but w/e. It’s occasionally tricky keeping her... not brash and out-and-out about everything, ‘cause she’s gotta be the understanding one

12. How past the canon events that take place in their world have you extended their story, if at all?

 Again, original draft... I think I gave her kids and a career in something? Ifernia met one of her great-great grandchildren or smth

13. If you had to narrow it down to 2 things you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be?

friendly to literally everyone

gently call out the dumbassery in a “are you sure this is the best way to go about this”

14. What is something about your OC that can make you laugh?

I think the way, in the last draft, she just sort of... looked around at her friends and sighed, folded her arms and said “looks like I’m the mum friend” while trying to be disappointed about this but also just... genuinely pleased.

15. What is something about your OC that can make you cry?

 Hmmmm

nothing that I’m aware of? at least not yet.

16. Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story?

not especially, but it’s early days yet. Sort of.

 I say, of a character who has been around for almost ten years

 I mean I regret making her straight to begin with, but I can say that of a lot of my early characters

17. What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC?

their face lmao (Sophie Hopkins, btw)

18. What is your favourite fact about your OC?

 Hm.

 I do not have many Facts on this girl

 She’s insisting her hair is pink, so we’ll go with that atm

 Ooh maybe plaited streaks. idk man

tagging @power-of-ages-writeblr, @minny-king

#Erith Faerathi #Expect to Fly #Tagged and bagged #these are taking me f o r e v e r I'm sorry #distraction is the name of my life

[muldertxf]

Descension, Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: Takes place towards the beginning of season 2. Confusion and memory blanks plague Scully one Monday morning. Things don’t seem to line up. Why’s everything seem so annoyingly bright?

Genre: Angst/Drama/Mystery…..idk

Rating: PG

           Pathetic, hazy strings of yellow spilled across Mulder’s worry-grooved forehead through closed blinds, while the dizzy fishtank in the corner bubbled on, casting a cold tint to his hunched back. His feet muzzily socked some stray masking tape, and then he was idle once more.

 A whirlwind of anxiety had ransacked the small room. Discarded file folders, their contents empty, settled beneath his leather couch like moths, their paper wings tired. Hurled books dotted the disaster’s perimeter. An ancient library copy of The Hunter’s Guide to Trolls sat cracked open, the spine hanging by mere thread on the edge of the leather couch. There was no doubt, that by morning the book would split in two, one side dangling from the leathery cliff, the bright innards struggling to hold on to what little bonding it had left, before finally descending to the wood in a broken cloud of dust. More fuel for the eternal tumbleweed of overdue library books to never be brought up again. When this case was over, he had to find another library to roam. Which meant another stupid library card. A fully stocked drawer of them hid in his desk, this was yet another thing to be ashamed of. Guilty of. Another thing to never share with his partner.

 Said storm also had a deviance for tossing exhausted bystanders into beaten desk chairs.

           Mulder was trapped in the throes of a fitful REM slumber. His heart screamed, rapping in his chest like clenched fists, trying to break free. Dream trolls roamed his mind, gyrating to the rhythm of his fear. Bump-ba-bump. Bump-ba-bump. Fear for his partner kindled.

             The back of a head came into view, as mysterious fog parted over the silhouette. Distant strawberry-blonde hair flogged limply like a torn flag.

 Scully!

             The library book on the sofa snapped. Half of its severed corpse thumped loudly next to the coffee table. The shock winded him, and he panted into stillness, his jaw sore from excessive clenching. He tore his face from the disheveled desk, and he noted the sweat plastering his brows.

 Another nightmare, Mulder silently moaned, rousing himself from the desk chair. Still, he thought, it wouldn’t hurt to call her. To talk about the case again, of course. Just that. Only.

 What sounded to be a newspaper slugged the base of his apartment door as he blindly felt for a light switch. He suddenly paused. Confusion struck him. It couldn’t be. Cryptid Weekly never arrived at 5 AM befo…

 Mulder caught a glimpse of his wristwatch.

 “Shoot!”

 Fresh adrenaline blinded and stung the corners of Mulder's eyes. He blinked the salt away. She's fine, she's fine, she's fine, he crooned to himself.

 He tore the blinds up and open, shaking his head to clear the mind. To make the paranoia fall out like the parasite it was. Crisp morning light now flooded the apartment, as overcast as it was. One by one, he jerked his limbs through his work uniform--a fine Armani suit he'd bought with three months of pay. And a little help from dad, of course.

 Mulder's lip bled slightly from anxious nibbling. Though this was lost on him, as he put on a bright green tie adorned with red and blue diamonds, leaving his apartment behind with an obnoxious slam. The drive over to the bureau thankfully loosened the paranoia chokehold.

 A sigh of relief exited his lips when Scully's head flew up to meet him.

 She raised her eyebrows. "You're late."

 "I know, and I'm sorry..." He panted, gritting his teeth to stifle it.

 "Did you run here?"

 "...Yeah, across the parking garage," Mulder said, a grin slowly taking over his features. "anything for you, Scully."

 Scully's cheeks flushed a highlighter pink.

 “Well…” She trailed off, suddenly losing her train of thought. “Good. We can still catch our plane then, right?”

 “Right.”

 An unseasonal, bittersweet draft slinked in from a cracked basement window. Both subconsciously read that as a cue to move in the direction of the door. Mulder lingered, hesitant to let Scully out of his sight. He knew it was foolish, it was just a dream, after all. Just a dream.

 Scully eyeballed her neatly packed leather suitcase that sat by her toes. She couldn’t help but feel she was failing to recall something. Then her gaze fell to the blank notebook. Innocent yet seemingly complacent, there it sat washed in saturated basement light on Mulder’s desk. She bit her lip.

 “Hey, what did you do with those notes you took?” Scully casually broached, gesturing to the notepad. She awaited his response eagerly, but at the same time ashamed. It was clear Agent Mulder didn’t want her to see the notes. He’d likely ripped them out after she stormed from the office the other day. There was nothing to read into. And yet, she found herself staring deeply into him, as if he were a specimen she’d been assigned to prod and dissect.

 Mulder’s brows lifted briefly. He then squinted, not quite looking at her, but not quite past her, either. His lips parted as if to speak, but then he stopped.

 His silence was beginning to annoy her now. She dove in, slapping her latex gloves on. “That notebook. I assume you tore out the pages you wrote on. What did you do with them? I was hoping to review them on the plane, if that’s alright.”

 Mulder looked at her quizzically.

 She continued, “Look, I know you don’t want me to look at it. For whatever reason. But I need to see it to help get a better understanding. So if you could just-”

 “I never took any notes, Scully. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He said with a chuckle that shook her. Picking up his suitcase again, “If I had written any, I’d certainly let you see them. You don’t think I’m that petty, do you?”

 She simply stared at him, as the edges of the room took to blurring as if it were in a kaleidoscope.

 “Scully?”

 And that’s when it went dark.

#descension #writing #txf fanfic #the x files fanfic #x files fanfic

[hoidn]

AO3 Writer Meme! copied right from @sarking (thank you!), who said:

Thirty-three questions and answers under the cut, along with a handy list of the questions so you don’t have to delete my answers when you write your own. Because I care, dammit.

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

i’m sorry to say that it’s a very boring origin story. i love trees. that’s it. tree started as my username on livejournal in 2001; five years later when i began writing fic, it made sense to use the same name because that’s how people already knew me. it was the name i used when i began volunteering for the OTW, and so it was the name i joined the archive with. the end.

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback (bookmarks, subscriptions, hits, kudos)?

[what she said:] I somewhat object to calling anything other than kudos or comments feedback, but:

Most bookmarks: Hearing Light (124, wow) [this is the number on my stats page, although the number on the work is 89, so idk.]

Most subscriptions: if you came this way (17)

Most hits: A Wild and Distant Shore (21,944 HOLY SHIT) [it took me three tries to figure out how to see my hit counts; also my top 5 are now all pride and prejudice fics, heh.]

Most kudos: A Wild and Distant Shore (629)

3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

it’s a photo of a bookshelf with the text “take me to the library. it is urgent.” i chose it because it’s very ‘me’ in the sense that i love books, i love libraries, and i have been known to have urgent library needs. also it just amuses me.

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

um, no? i mostly write in small fandoms, or larger fandoms that are no longer very active, and i write infrequently, and i rarely write long fics, all of which combined means that there’s not much consistency in the comments.

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

i mean, i have thousands of fics saved, and i’ve read them all at least twice. at least.

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

i have 21 subscriptions to works and, looking at them, i realise i don’t have any idea what most of them are. i’ve got 287 bookmarks.

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

i’ve written a grand total of one. based on that: sex worker AU!

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

User Subscriptions: 65 (wow, really? i bet they’re very disappointed. sorry, folks!)

Bookmarks: 1064

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

not other people; it’s more about me judging myself. like, i started writing a luke/lorelai alpha/omega fic? i’m somewhat horrified?

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

i feel like any answer to this question would require me to just... be someone else. for example, i’d like to be better at replying to comments and i’d like to write more consistently. but both of those things are constrained by the state of my brain. so either someone invents a drug to “cure” me, or i have to somehow magically become not-mentally-ill. while i’m not opposed to either of those things happening, they don’t seem very likely.

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

the thing is, a lot of my fandoms are small (or tiny), and in them the popular ships are still rarepairs in a larger sense. (right now, for example, there are 62 works tagged with walt/vic at the archive, and that’s across both the book and tv show fandoms.) so from my perspective those two things are not mutually exclusive. that said, it appears i generally write ships that are popular within the context of an individual fandom.

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

66.

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

why do you hurt me this way? is it really necessary to flaunt my inadequacies, meme writer? is it?! between the old stuff i haven’t migrated over from scrivener and what i’ve got in bean it’s... more than 50, less than 100? 

[what she said #2:] PS. Thank you to whoever originally wrote these questions for saying “writing program” and not “AO3 Drafts.” DON’T WRITE YOUR SHIT ON AO3, KIDS. I BEG YOU, SUPPORT BEGS YOU, THE POSTING FORM BEGS YOU.

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

both. that is, i keep them in my head until i can’t stand it anymore. then i write them down.

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

no. the closest i’ve come is when i betad a story for an xf writer and in the course of that she asked me to write a parallel version from scully’s pov (as a complement to hers, which was from mulder’s).

16. How did you discover AO3?

i remember being aware of something being developed through discussions linked from metafandom at livejournal. then i think i lost track of it a bit, until a friend mentioned they were volunteering for the OTW and the org was looking for more volunteers and i signed up. i did documentation for a while, maybe a year? volunteers got an automatic invite to AO3 and i moved into tag wrangling then.

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

ahahahahahahaha no. i am neither popular nor famous. anywhere.

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

[what she said #3:] That… that is a thing people do?

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

no. i’ve been writing since i learned how to do it as a wee bairn. i started writing fic because one day i just had an idea that hadn’t been there the day before. that’s basically how it’s always worked. which is not to say that i haven’t received meaningful encouragement from other people, or that there aren’t writers who i admire so much i’d give up a kidney to have half their abilities, but even without that i’d still be writing. it’s the way my brain is wired, alas.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

learn

what

words

mean

i honestly cannot emphasise this enough. it’s gotten to the point that i’ve begun finding trends as i go through different fandoms where it’s clear people are just copying the use of words as they’ve seen others do, without any awareness of what they actually mean. i am not exaggerating when i say that it makes me want to cry.

here’s a very common example: bemused. friends, this is not a synonym for amused. it means puzzled or confused. but you wouldn’t know that from reading a lot of fic.

there’s nothing wrong with not knowing what a word means when you encounter it for the first time. no one knows every single word in a given language. when you come across a word you don’t know, or even just don’t entirely recall the meaning of, look it up! the dictionary is your friend. it’s also a magical resource where you can make connections between words and learn stuff! if you use a mac, you already have an excellent in-built dictionary which includes a thesaurus and etymological details. if you don’t have a mac it’s still very easy to get access to a dictionary. i recommend the OED above everything and there’s a phone app for that which is free.

as a writer, words are your tools. don’t be afraid of them. but as with any tool, you need to learn how to use it before you can create something good. 

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

what is this ‘plot’ of which you speak? it’s a bit of both. sometimes i’m writing towards an ending i already know and i’m just not sure how i’m going to get there. sometimes i start with the idea of something i want to achieve thematically or in terms of character and the story forms the ending itself as it progresses.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

i’m not sure what a bad comment means in this context. i’ve never gotten any hardcore flames or anything. i’ve gotten comments that i found personally offensive or upsetting but that i doubt most other writers would. i’m an outlier and shouldn’t be counted.

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

all of them? i don’t know; different scenes present different challenges. i don’t think any of them are harder than the others, just hard in different ways.

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

my brain exploded with bits of a longmire fic less than twelve hours after finishing season 6. that’s now ballooned to two i’ve started writing, and like three more buzzing around in my head and being annoying. but also i’m supposed to be working on gilmore girls fic. and voyager fic. and xf fic. &etc.

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

please define ‘plan’. given my answer to #13, i believe the answer is obvious.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

that sound you hear is my bitter laughter. short answer: no. longer answer: goals usually end up feeding into my mental illness. didn’t meet today’s goal? it’s because you’re worthless! and tomorrow you’ll be behind and the burden of the goal will be doubled and you won’t make it and you’ll be even more worthless! just punish yourself now and save time! 

additionally, i’ve learned over the course of multiple nanowrimo and big bang challenges that writing now and editing later doesn’t work for me. i can’t successfully progress with a story if the bulk of it isn’t already complete. when we had to turn in rough drafts of papers in school, i always had to write the complete paper, then go back and create a fake draft. basically it takes me a lot longer to revise words that i’ve just blurted out in order to meet a word count than it would take me to just write and revise at the same time.

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

(i’m choosing to answer this wrt fic writing only, since otherwise the answer would be yes of course because i’m not four years old anymore. so) yes and no. i believe i’ve become a better prose writer; that i’m better at dialogue and moving scenes forward. but i also feel like i’ve lost something as well; it’s as if, in exchange for what i’ve gained, i’ve had to give something away. i might be wrong. or it might just be a natural evolution of style. i really don’t know.

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

right now i’d have to say if you came this way. there is a lot of me in there, though in ways i don’t believe anyone else would recognise, and so it’s a very personal fic. writing it was also probably the most joyful writing experience i’ve ever had--at least for the first two thirds. so it reminds me of that giddy, wonderful feeling.

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

Camera Lucida I: Latency. because it’s not really my story. all i did was write another perspective of the story someone else had already written. and not in a remix-y way. i literally just replaced the narrative sections she had written and slotted scully’s internal pov into it in place of mulder’s.

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

all things being equal, in exactly the same place as now. i mean, i’d like to say that in five years i’ll have finished writing my giant backlog of things-in-various-stages-of-being-written, and writing regularly, and all that good stuff. but i might not even be alive in five years. and even if i am, the likelihood of a magical transformation is, as i said before, unlikely.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

thinking about it. if there were a way to get thoughts directly into text, i’d have written a hell of a lot more. also, research. i love research! it’s a great means of procrastination because you still get the sense of accomplishing something.

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

the part where you actually have to write. it’s pulling-teeth, blood-from-a-stone hard and i honestly wish i didn’t need to do it, but i always get to a point where i simply can’t not write. like, it gets painful? in a particular way in my brain. it’s like pressure and an incessant song lyric you can’t get out of your head combined and it gets worse and worse until you finally just give up and write down whatever the hell it is that’s in there. unfortunately, the whatever-the-hell-that’s-in-there is never a complete story, so then begins the struggle of trying to make it one. 

33. Why do you write?

like i said, it’s the way my brain is wired. i can’t not. and humans are a storytelling species. the very means by which we construct the idea of our individual selves is through the stories we tell ourselves. every memory, every conversation, every piece of our life is a story; we are stories within stories. i always think the question should be: why doesn’t everyone write?

Question list:

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean? 2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback (bookmarks, subscriptions, hits, kudos)? 3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it? 4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters? 5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again? 6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked? 7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most? 8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page) 9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!) 10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc. 11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often? 12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)? 13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program? 14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head? 15. Have you ever co-authored a story? 16. How did you discover AO3? 17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3? 18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers? 19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write? 20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author? 21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go? 22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do? 23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..) 24. What story(s) are you working on now? 25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)? 26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself? 27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started? 28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written? 29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written? 30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years? 31. What is the easiest thing about writing? 32. What is the hardest thing about writing? 33. Why do you write?

#writing is more surprise than certainty #me and my charms #words are my life

[itain]

long.. complaint post essentially

id say rant but its less anger than just.. despair i guess

oh god i feel at this moment.... very hopeless

ive just kinda been frozen since i got home,,, talked some, ate dinner, etc... but there is so much i need to get done but i {feel i} cant do until i finish one thing in particular...... like so many rows stacked up in tetris that all get cleared with the one block that fits them all... i mean perhaps nobody thinks its that big a deal,,, idk......... i just feel like i cant breath... literally it feels like my chest is a bit tight just thinking of all this shit stressing me... like once i finally get one thing done turns out its not done and i had 10 more things to do as well... i feel that in the time it takes for me to take one step, i’m pushed back like 20 paces....

you know when you have so much stressing you that you play games or just fucking fill your mind with static to pretend nothing is wrong?? you waste time having fun while the stress just looms next to you all day every day?? thats like my usual state of being.... and here is the other end.. where things come crashing down, and im panicking, and im frozen because i can never solve things, i have to find an order in the chaos, and at this point everything immidiately turns negative and i wonder why im even alive rn... i like that ive written this much and still remained so vague.......... SIGH

uh lets see i mean its mostly all just financial shit

the biggest block rn is the fucking gym... gee am i getting so damn sick of this shit.... i am ready to sccream over this fucking gym...... ive been trying to quit almost since ive started... i FINALLY send the shit i need to on time..... and they didnt do it???? so i need to call them tomorrow asking why they havent drafted the quitting fee, and im sure theyll ask if i did the fucking secure mail where i get notified when they recieve it, and no i didnt bc i dont have money, and they will come up with some bullshit excuse reason why i cant quit still, and at that point ill want to scream and cry, i fucking wish that could solve my problem??? why cant i be like my dad who yells at the customer service people on the phone till they solve everything for free???? why cant i ask that of him now?? thoughts like these... who let me be an adult, how will i not get fucked out of shit because im a fucking pushover who just wants to please everyone and be polite.....

then lets see.......... the student loans..... the big issue with this... i mean 50 bucks a month starting in october... i mean we will fucking see if i have the money... considering im already drowning now, i fucking doubt, but my biggest concern is the logistics... what amount am i paying back? how do i know that its set up to draft out of my account??? questions i dont want to ask anyone because i’ll feel like a fucking idiot and i’ll just cry about it instead pls.... so i’ll just rot till october tyvm...

and what else... my biggest fear is the combination of these two, that i cant quit the gym and im paying like 75 fucking bucks a month for two things that have made my life nothing but hell...

but i think the other biggest stressor is the small shit adding up rn... for like 2+ months (i havent really counted but i know its been a long time now) my phone isnt working without a charger.... and to even get it replaced for a working model is like 75 bucks.. id buy some shit phone but thats 20 bucks that can be spent towards surviving... like, see above bills.... oh and id switch to an old phone of mine to even ask if thats possible would fucking cost money bc metro pcs wont answer shit without seeing money first ugh.. its made all communication and leisure time way more difficult as im chained to the wall and only a few short times a day for either.... so setting aside that, ill just fucking pray for that for christmas orz the other “small shit”...... oil needs to be changed on the car,,, means i have to find some time to buy oil, figure out what fucking oil to buy, where to buuy, if i have the money, etc... communicate with coworker friend and get a day we both have off so her friend?? can change my oil for me for free, bless.... but thats not even possible till i get back from my vacation.... so a week or two..... then we have the registration sticker that needs to be updated before september,,,, 80 to 85 bucks my dad said... that obv cant be updated with a code on my car so again, it has to wait a couple weeks... even driving with a code on my car gives me such anxiety...

so moving on to.... i guess the tiny shit that isnt as big problems but only have become such because im mega stressed..... thought i had finished the laundry... found another bag orz... apartment much more disorganized than i thought.. you know how order in the home gives a certain peace of mind.... and vise versa.... bf and i are fucking depressed and at least i want pills but that is a faraway dream rn, booking a fucking appointment, much less having $$ for a perscription????? trying to work out then losing motivation so quickly as always... but because i want to dedicate my energy towards cleaning this place... which just somehow never happens.... just never seeing a way to save money??? ive been so damn frugal and i still cant pay my bills and here i am with more bills, meanwhile my dad posting his stupid fucking bullshit on facebook about “choose happiness” like money doesnt have a fucking say in the matter.... and all the low self esteem and negative thoughts that accompany all this situation... wanting to “do something nice because ive been having a hard life/week” and then still feeling like shit, or feeling guilty for having spent anything then complaining about money...

i guess last thing i wanted to touch on..... the vacation... bfs mom takes me with them on their family vacations.... honestly i feel like the goth in the prep family? like im too much drama to make them happy.. ive been pretty open with her about my feelings towards my dad and stepmom, mostly bc she is super giving and nice and agrees with me against them.. and recently ive been more open, like about my depression even... and like... she even said she would get me a scrip... like....... i just.. this kind of thing, the vacations, the covering my half of rent, even while she doesnt have a job rn (she is rich but tighter on $$ now so) but i feel so guilty accepting it.. like if i justify it, then arent i being too greedy?? but i literally cant refuse it, or i’d be on the street right now so..... but i just feel like she owns me... if i were her daughter i think id be more okay but like... if john and i break up she put like, thousands into SOME CHICK.... i feel like in the far future i’ll need to write her a check too;; i told bf i wasnt rly feeling the vacation... of course because of the neverending drama surrounding me (yeah yeah im not saying drama is drawn to me, yeah i create it okay) this will just kinda strain more the relationship and they’ll all think i have some issue with them or smth that i gotta ruin every family trip... so i’ll just go.. but like... self esteem is out the window, so i wont want any pics.. i doubt bf will either, we both have gained so much weight, and i have perma acne that gets worse by the day, and i cant even afford to get my hair cut or colored again so its just this grown out mess.... then in the other respect of a vacation... i think ill just be worried the whole time about my finances... i mean i wont be able to spend money on anything so -shrugs- i get to just look at a bunch of nice things, thinking “i wish” or feel the guilt of her wanting to get it for me.... oh god yeah and same things w my friends.... i want to hang with them?? but i dont have money for shit??? and every time they pay for smth i die inside bc when will i even be able to pay them back its the same thing but theyre poor TT

anyways i guess thats most of it..... i guess im feeling tired maybe ill just pass out watching some youtube videos.... i was wanting to get a drawing done but ~*the cycle of feeling like shit*~ will occur worse then...

#negative #long post #dont read #sorry i exist #i wish i didnt too #the shit thing is even writing this out and posting im like... #its like there is two of me and one is saying you just want attention.. you want pity. you want money. #well fuck i want happiness but ill get what i can i guess