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septembercfawkes · 10 months

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7 (More) Things I Wish I'd Known as a Beginning Writer

Last time I shared seven things I wish I'd known as a beginning writer. Unsurprisingly, that wasn't an exhaustive list, and I've been thinking about it some more. So, I present to you, seven more things I wish I'd known as a beginning writer. . . .

1. The Central Relationship Needs an Arc and an Actual Plot

Many of us have been told we need a relationship plotline in our stories, but few of us have received any guidance on how to actually do that (unless, of course, you are writing romance).

And in my first novel attempt, back in the day, the central relationship was not romantic. I had an idea for what the relationship was like, but partway through the story, it wasn't working. And it was becoming super annoying.

What I didn't realize was that it was annoying because it was mostly static. Nothing was changing. The characters weren't growing closer together or further apart. Instead of the relationship plotline having "peaks" and "valleys," it was mostly just a straight line.

Of course, I knew it was going to change at the end.

But what I didn't understand was that it still needed a plot through the middle. 🤦‍♀️ Which means it still needed the basics of plot: goal, antagonist, conflict, consequences.

Not just interesting interactions and conversations. Not just banter and pastimes.

In my last post, I mentioned the three basic types of goals: obtain, avoid, maintain.

Well, in relationship plots, this translates into these three basic goals: grow closer to the person (obtain), push further away from the person (avoid), maintain the relationship as is (maintain).

The antagonistic force is whatever gets in the way of that. If your protagonist wants to draw closer to this person, then an antagonistic force should be pushing him away. If he wants to be apart from this person, then the antagonistic force should be pushing him closer. If he wants to maintain the relationship as is, then the antagonistic force is what disrupts that. This creates conflicts and should lead to consequences.

If you have a relationship plotline, it needs an actual plot.

2. Choose a Tentative Theme Early, to Better Shape and Evaluate Your Story

If you've been following me for a while, you probably know I consider these three things to be the triarchy (formerly known as "trinity") of storytelling: character, plot, and theme.

Each of these elements comes out of and influences the others.

This also means you can use each of these to help shape and evaluate the quality of the others.

It's much easier to write a solid story when you understand all three.

If you have only one or two pieces, it's harder to discern which ideas are just okay and which ideas are great. It's harder to discern what does or does not belong in your story.

The best ideas for your story are going to come from and touch each of those three things.

Most beginners are familiar with concepts of characters and plot.

Few know anything about theme.

And fewer still have the desire to learn anything about theme. It's often seen as unimportant or something that "just happens." Okay, sure, it could just happen. Maybe.

But writing your story will (in the long run) be much easier if you at least understand some basics about theme.

I have so much to say on theme, it could probably fill up a book (and maybe someday it will), but for now, if you want more information on it . . . I'd recommend starting with this article: The Secret Ingredients for Writing Theme. It breaks down the key elements of theme, which can give you a good foundation.

Even if your theme ends up changing a bit, starting with an idea in mind will help keep your story on track.

3. Your Story Needs a Counterargument

Remember when I was talking about theme, and implied I wasn't going to go into it that much more? Well . . . I guess I'm going to go into it a little more.

The thematic statement is the argument the story is making about life.

But it's not really an argument if no one is disagreeing.

This means your story needs a counterargument (I call this the "anti-theme").

This counterargument will often manifest within the protagonist (as a "flaw" or misbelief or something the character needs to cast off or overcome) and/or within the main antagonistic force.

It can technically show up in other places and in other ways, but let's keep this basic.

So if your story ultimately shows the audience that it's best to be merciful, then a counterargument for that could be that it's best to enforce justice (Les Mis).

If your story ultimately shows the audience that it's best to ask for, give, and receive help, then a counterargument for that could be that it's best to avoid, withhold, and refuse help and do everything yourself (A Man Called Otto).

If your story ultimately shows the audience that it's best to rely on faith, then a counterargument for that could be that it's best to rely on technology (Star Wars IV: A New Hope).

The two arguments are locked in a "battle" of sorts, similar to how the protagonist and antagonist are, because they are in opposition to one another (see #5 in previous article).

The arguments need to be "shown" more than "told." And the counterargument should be given fair weight, because doing so will actually make the whole theme (and plot and characters) stronger.

Here are some examples to think about:

4. Writing More isn't Enough to Take Your Work to a Professional Level

We are often told that if we want to be great writers, we need to write more. And this is true. To an extent.

I've worked with writers who had been writing for decades, but were still at a beginner level.

I have known writers who bent over backward to meet word count goals, only to end up with a pile of slush they couldn't see their way out of.

I myself have spent enormous amounts of time and words trying to write something brilliant.

But for the vast majority of people, putting in the time and word count isn't enough.

What is the point of clocking in more and more hours and typing more and more words if you don't know how professional-level stories actually work?

Don't get me wrong--you absolutely need to put in time and words, and they absolutely will help you improve! And yes, quantity can improve quality.

But also remember this: You don't know what you don't know.

And if you are practicing imperfectly, that doesn't guarantee that one day it's going to be perfect.

If I have lousy technique every time I go bowling (and frankly, I do), that doesn't guarantee I'm going to get any better if I don't know what I'm doing wrong or how to improve or what good technique looks like--no matter how much time I put in.

This is sadly usually true for writing.

I'm not saying that no one gets to the professional level by only clocking in writing hours, but just that . . . I don't think most of us do. And I think some of us could spend decades clocking in the hours, and really, just be spinning our hamster wheels because we don't know what we don't know--we don't know why professional stories are professional level, so we don't know how to improve.

Hands-on practice is vital.

But so is education.

Sometimes it's actually more beneficial to learn about the craft from someone than to complete your Xth writing sprint to meet your word count goal.

If I could speak to my past self, I would tell beginner me to spend more time studying the craft. In the long run, it would have actually helped me get better easier and much faster than clocking in another hour of writing (that would have ended up in the garbage bin anyway). I've put in a lot of hours that didn't get me very far because I didn't fully understand where I was trying to get, or how.

There is always more you can learn. And especially in the writing world, there is always another perspective to learn what you think you already know. Many writers talk about the same subjects, but come at them from different angles, and learning even those different angles can help you refine your understanding of that subject.

I'm not going to say that tomorrow you have to sign up to take a bunch of courses (though you can if you want), but make time to learn about the craft regularly. You may want to ask yourself: Is it better for me right now to write for an hour or to learn for an hour?

5. Conflict for the Sake of Conflict is Actually Filler--You Need Consequences!

There is an adage in the writing community, which is that story = conflict.

And once again, it's true. To an extent.

But adding a bunch of conflict isn't enough to make a story good.

If the conflict doesn't change anything--if it doesn't have at least the power to change any outcomes, then what is the point? It's just stuff happening.

Who cares if a bomb is going to go off, if no one or nothing significant is in danger of being blown up?

Conflicts need consequences to be meaningful.

It's really the consequences that hook and draw readers into the story. Or at least, the potential consequences. It's potential consequences that make up the stakes in the story.

And they draw the audience in because the audience wants to see if what could happen actually does happen.

Once the audience understands the potential consequences (the stakes), they care about the conflict, because how the conflict is resolved will affect what happens next. The conflict now has significance because it changes the direction of the story, it changes the future.

Consequences also improve the story by strengthening a sense of cause and effect.

As I touched on in my previous post (see #4), random bad things happening is actually less effective (and makes characters less sympathetic). And random good things happening is also less effective (and makes characters less admirable). Instead, it's better if the bad and good things that happen come as a consequence to how a conflict was resolved.

This often happens even at a scene level. Just as nearly every scene should have a goal and antagonist, nearly every scene should have conflict. How that conflict is resolved in that scene should also carry consequences and affect what's going to be happening in the near future of the story (generally speaking).

Consequences also allow the audience to experience tension, which, as counterintuitive as it sounds, can be more effective than outright conflict. Tension is the potential for problems to happen. Conflict is actual problems happening. Tension makes the audience feel suspense. But suspense often only exists because the audience understands the potential consequences (the stakes) in play.

If there are no known consequences, then the conflict often doesn't really matter to the audience, because they can't see how it will change anything significantly.

6. Starting in Medias Res is Actually Harder, not Easier

A lot of beginning writers struggle with beginnings--which makes sense, because they can be very difficult to write.

And so a lot of beginning writers are told to open their stories in medias res, which translates to "in the midst of things." This basically means you open the story up with some form of rising action (conflict)--usually it's that scene's rising action (see #2 in my previous post).

In other words, you are essentially cutting off the scene's setup.

While this can be effective, and while I may be unpopular in my opinion, I don't feel that it makes things easier. In fact, more often than not, I think it's actually harder to start in medias res.

This relates to what we just talked about above in #5.

When we start a scene in medias res, we are starting with conflict, but if the audience doesn't know why the conflict matters, then it won't hold them for very long.

When you cut off the setup of a scene, you now have to find a way to convey who is there, where is "there," what is there, when, and why we care (the why is the stakes).

--all without slowing the pacing.

This is why I think it's often (though not always) more difficult.

Now don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying you can't start in medias res, or that you shouldn't start in medias res.

I'm just saying it's tricky.

Instead, I would personally recommend starting just before the scene's conflict. Start early enough to give the audience context to understand what is about to go down: where and when the scene takes place, who is there, what the goal is, and what the potential consequences are. Make the setup long enough to convey the important stuff, but short enough to stay interesting.

Then get to the scene's conflict, the rising action.

You can read more than you probably want to know about in medias res here.

7. Yes, You Really Need to Do That If You Want to Write at a Professional Level

This last thing is pretty nonspecific, as it's not about one particular piece of writing advice. When I started taking writing seriously and going to conferences and listening to podcasts and what have you, I often felt skeptical of what I heard. Now, sometimes that skepticism served me well (and has led to many of my blog posts), but other times that skepticism held me back. What's the difference?

Being skeptical of "writing rules" has, in the long (long) run, served me well, because it has actually led me to better understand the rules, why they are rules, how they work, and how and when to break them.

But sometimes it wasn't that I was skeptical of the rule itself. It was that I was skeptical that I needed to do X at all. I was skeptical that professionals actually did X.

For example, I would hear about Swain's scene structureand think, Yeah, there is no way most people actually do all this and put all this thought into their scenes.

Or I would run into a breakdown of character arcs and think, Yeah, there is no way most people actually do all these things to write a great character arc.

And in the community, I have brushed up against this same mentality from others. Viewpoint is a popular subject. "Do I really need to be in one character's viewpoint at a time?" or "Is it really that big of a deal that I described the viewpoint character's face?"

And I'm like . . . on the one hand, no, and on the other hand, well yes--if you want to write at a professional level and be competing professionally.

Not that no professional ever varies from that, but just that those are exceptions that prove the point.

And it's not even that every professional is consciously doing X thing. They may be doing it subconsciously. But X thing usually still needs to be there, for the story to sound professional.

So yes, you really do need to do X thing if you want to be writing at a professional level.

If you don't care about writing at a professional level, then obviously you don't have to. It's totally valid to write for a hobby or just for fun.

Now I will echo what I said last time. If I had waited until I understood all these things to start writing, I would have been waiting forever. And some things I would have never properly understood without the actual writing process. Yes, we need to be educated on how stories work, but it's also important to sit down and write.

#writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writing help #writeblr #writing advice #writer #writing reference #writing tip #writing

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libraryofgage · 6 months

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Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Four

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Hi hi! It's been kind of a long week for me lmao but here's the next part! You'll def wanna stick around to the very end of the post; there's a very fun surprise for y'all lol

Also! If you like my writing or want to see a quicker update of this or another series, I've opened commissions (student loans are hitting a lot harder than I expected orz). If you're interested, you can find more information in this post

Even if you don't commission me, I appreciate your likes/comments/reblogs of my work! They keep me going and make me really happy ^_^

Anyway, now for the good stuff. As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

----

Sinking a ship takes skill, intense planning, and strong tails. Or, if you're Robin and seven guppies, it takes incredible, unbridled rage and a worry that could kill a Kraken. A ship that should take half the day to sink only takes the group two hours, their tails bashing against the hull and claws ripping planks to let seawater surge inside. Dustin is particularly brutal, recruiting Lucas and Mike to help him use the same net that caught him and took Steve to drag the ship beneath the waves.

Between tending to Dustin's wounds, lying to the pod about why they're going to be away for a while, and actually tracking the damned thing, it took Robin and the guppies a few days to catch up to the ship. And as they scavenge the drowned wreckage, pushing past broken doors and through holes in the hull, it becomes increasingly clear that they're too late.

"Where could he be?!" Dustin shouts, his gills flaring and bubbles rising in an enraged pattern above him. He takes a spear and jabs it into a water-bloated plank. "If he's not here, that means he escaped, right? So why hasn't he found us yet?"

"Steve could have been taken by another ship," El points out, her head poking from behind a mast. She's gained a dagger with a jewel-encrusted hilt and is currently using her nails to dig the jewels out and drop them into a seaweed bag.

Robin frowns, swimmingly anxiously in circles. She's not the one that's good with guppies. That's Steve. If she's the fun caretaker that encourages them to play Scuttlefish with sharks, Steve is the one a tail's-length behind dragging them back to the pod before they can get hurt. He's the one who knows how to keep the guppies calm and healthy. Robin is the one who keeps them energetic and chaotic.

"He was definitely here," Will says, swimming out from a cabin on the ship. He stops in front of Robin and holds his hands out, letting her see the dull, blood-stained scales sitting in his palms.

With a shaking hand, Robin takes the scales and turns them over, hoping they're somehow not Steve's. But he's her partner. Robin could recognize him by the flick of his tail alone. So, of course, she knows they're Steve's scales at a glance.

She turns, her tail creating a small current that brushes over the guppies and forces them to look at her. "If he's not on this one," she says, "then we'll just keep sinking ships until we find him."

"Let's start with the other ship," Erica says.

"The other ship?" Robin asks.

Erica nods, pointing in the direction they'd just come from. "A few leagues before we found this one, I saw another one that was sailing in the other direction. Maybe they crossed paths."

For a brief moment, Robin wonders how she missed the other ship. But then she remembers how she's been caught between her own worries and keeping the guppies from spiraling, and she gives herself a break. "Yeah," she says, nodding as she closes her fingers over the scales. The edges cut into her palms but don't draw blood. "Let's go track down that ship. But don't keep something like that from me next time."

The guppies all nod in agreement, and Robin looks at the wreckage around them. She's half-tempted to let the guppies loot the rest of the ship, but she knows they're all aching to find Steve already. So, Robin herds them away from the sunken ship in the direction Erica pointed and hopes Steve can hold on for just a little longer.

----

Excerpt from "The Lovelorn Fool's Guide to Merfolk Courtship"

Song Types

There are several song types that merfolk are likely to use in their lifetime. While the human ear cannot distinguish the intricacies of the songs, it can tell the major categories apart.

As newly-born guppies, they know only how to vocalize wordless sounds based on their needs. These sounds are referred to as Guppy Songs. These songs are generally lacking in any real melody or rhythm. They are rough and unskilled, but many caretakers consider them precious.

Pod songs are shared tunes and melodies among the pod to communicate big news. When hearing a pod song from a lone merperson, it will sound incomplete. Pod songs usually require at least one other merperson to support or respond to the initial measures, which creates a complete and satisfying loop.

Individual songs are varied and unique, as the name suggests. They cover a range of emotions that simply can't be communicated through regular speech or bubble patterns (to learn more about bubble patterns, please see Part I: The Basics). Among these songs, the most important to know is the courting song, which can actually be multiple songs using the same opening measures and melodies with slightly different tones.

Now that you know the most basic kind of songs, we can move to harmonizing. Truthfully, a human's ability to harmonize with a merperson is nearly impossible. However, it can be done with an instrument, which can reach ranges the human voice cannot. So, if you don't know how to play one, I'd suggest learning. Harmonizing is a key step in the courtship process, after all.

----

Steve shrieks as Eddie spins him around, the sound high and grating, and clings tighter to Eddie's neck. His tailfin slaps Eddie behind his knee, hard enough to make him falter and slip on the rain-soaked deck. He falls on his ass, Steve safely in his lap, and laughs. The charms in his hair knock against each other, and Steve idly reaches up to brush his finger against one. "What was that for?" Eddie asks, the words slightly breathless.

"You surprised me," Steve says, frowning slightly as raindrops catch in his eyelashes and make them heavy. He holds a hand above his eyes and then does the same for Eddie.

"You just looked so pretty, sweetheart," Eddie says, grinning at Steve like he knows what bubble pattern his fluttering gills would create (flustered and flattered).

He rolls his eyes, looking at the sky and sea in the distance. The ocean is surging, and waves and sea foam collide as the wind picks up force. Dark clouds hang over the sea, and Steve would be concerned if he didn't know the storm would clear up soon. He can tell from the sound of the ocean and the taste in the air: the water isn't angry enough and there isn't enough salt on his lips.

The rain is still going to turn brutal, though, and Steve would prefer they weren't on deck when it happens. He overheard Asher and Jeff talking about the last time Eddie got soaked to the bone and got sick. He's not sure what a "cold" is, but he doesn't want Eddie catching it again.

"Let's go back to the cabin," he says, looking back at Eddie with a light smile. "I want to hear you play that, uh, gee-tare."

"Guitar, Stevie," Eddie corrects, holding Steve tight as he stands. He has an excited smile, something expectant in his eyes that Steve still hasn't figured out.

Steve hums, knowing very well how it's pronounced, but he likes to see the somewhat dopey smile Eddie gets whenever he mispronounces something. He gets the feeling Eddie also knows he's doing it on purpose, but he's not said anything yet.

Eddie carries him down to the captain's cabin, kicking the door shut with his foot. "Where do you want to be, sweetheart?" he asks.

After a moment's consideration, Steve gestures to the bed, looking forward to the soft pillows and even softer sheets. When Eddie places him down, he wiggles until his tail is curled comfortably, soaking the sheets beneath him, and looks at Eddie expectantly.

"Any requests?" Eddie asks, clearly amused as he grabs his guitar and hops onto the bed next to Steve. His knee brushes against Steve's tail, drawing Steve's attention briefly to the faint scar that lingers across his scales.

He's been healed for almost a day now, and Steve should probably start bracing himself to say goodbye, but he'd like to remain in denial a little longer. He doesn't want to leave. Even if he knows he'll come right back with Robin and the guppies, Steve doesn't want to be away from Eddie that long. They haven't even confirmed their courtship. Leaving before they do means any merperson with half a brain could see how much of a pearl Eddie is and try to steal him away.

Steve forces the thought away, forces himself to focus on answering Eddie's question, and shakes his head. "Just play something," he says.

Eddie nods and thinks a moment as he tunes the guitar. "Could you hum something?" he asks.

When he looks up at Steve again, there's something oddly intense in his gaze. He looks determined, as though something very important is riding on this moment. Steve isn't sure what it is, exactly, but he knows he doesn't want it to pass him by. Steve nods and starts humming a soft and familiar tune, one he's used a lot more after meeting Eddie.

It must be the right choice, because Eddie practically lights up, a grin tugging at his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes as he listens. After a few seconds, he starts plucking strings on the guitar, adding a gentle accompaniment that makes Steve's humming rock back and forth like the ocean currents.

Usually, Eddie plays fast, his music filling Steve with the same heat and energy as an underwater volcano in the middle of an eruption. But this is slow and sweet like the honey Steve tried a few days ago. It creeps through him, his gills fluttering with each note that Eddie pulls from his guitar. He feels soft and happy, his voice shifting to follow Eddie's lead as inspiration hits him.

They trade the lead back and forth between them, and Steve starts to actually sing at some point. He doesn't know when he opened his mouth and started to vocalize the notes instead of just humming them, a sweet melody forming as his voice resonates with the guitar. It just happens as naturally as swimming. Steve can no longer tell where his voice ends and the guitar begins. They've fallen into sync, strumming and singing together without missing a beat.

Steve leans closer, his heart pounding against his ribs even faster than usual. They're harmonizing. He realizes it suddenly, but it doesn't catch him off-guard. It's just a whisper in the back of his mind, a little nudge that makes him smile and move without thinking beyond the desire to be closer.

The song doesn't end naturally. In fact, Eddie is in the middle of a particularly lovely string of notes when Steve kisses him, still humming low in his throat. Eddie's fingers fumble, a sour note pulling from the guitar, but Steve doesn't care. He's too busy wrapping one hand around the back of Eddie's neck and placing the other on Eddie's chest.

He can feel Eddie's heart beating just as rapidly as his own, and Steve presses closer. He's barely balancing on his tail as Eddie moves the guitar from his lap, pushing it to the side of the bed while he kisses Steve back. Eddie pushes his hand into Steve's hair, tangling his fingers in the strands.

Steve's humming happily rises in pitch, and he finally loses his balance, his weight pressing entirely on Eddie and causing him to fall back on the bed. The kiss breaks when Eddie bounces slightly, their foreheads knocking together, and Steve can't help laughing.

"You're fucking gorgeous, sweetheart," Eddie whispers, his free hand trailing to Steve's waist and settling on his back. His fingers brush against the line where scales meet skin, and Steve shudders, his mouth going dry, and he kisses Eddie again before he can say another word.

----

Tag List (the tag list is full! I wasn't able to fit everyone, so if you aren't on here, I'd suggest following #high seas steddie. I think you should still get updates on your dash if you do)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7

@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg, @littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow

@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle, @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona, @sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed, @xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma, @m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie

And, if you've made it this far, here's a little meme for your entertainment

#steddie #steddie fic #high seas steddie #merman steve harrington #pirate eddie munson #robin buckley #the party #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 6 months

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hi Kat, huge congrats on reaching 2K 💕 for the event, could I request a post-war Dadvi drabble where the happy family is living somewhere in Marley & celebrating Levi's birthday?

hi flo! :3 i rly want to commission someone to draw levi holding a baby in his lap now kjdskfj

Making a Fuss | 2K Follower Event | Post-War Dadvi Drabble

✧ word count ➼ < 800 ✧ notes ➼ post-war, fluff

The farmer's market was a bit more crowded today in terms of both vendors and buyers. Although most of the produce was sold earlier in the fall, there were still fruits and vegetables that had been harvested from the gardening that had occurred the year prior. A few years after the end of the Rumbling, the world was slowly getting pieced back together.

Walking from your house to the market and then through the market to the bakery was going to be a bit of a longer journey, so you were pushing Levi through the lineup of vendors as he sat in his wheelchair. It was ultimately for the best. Since he was seated, he was able to sit with your 7-month old in his lap, although your child was beginning to get restless from the amount of people around you. He wanted nothing more than to escape Levi's lap and crawl around, but Levi had a firm grip on him.

You had originally said that you were only wanting to pick up some vegetables and hang out at the bakery for the afternoon, but Levi wasn't dumb. It was too much of a coincidence that you had been this insistent on going out on his birthday. You had something planned.

His eyes went from staring at the bakery off in the distance down to your child that was busy babbling and tugging on his shirt. He had been fine as Levi occasionally distracted him by chatting with him or poking him, but it was clear that he was getting restless.

Levi heard you shuffling around behind him and you reached over his shoulder while holding a small plush shaped like a cat, handing it to your child to play with.

You ruffled your baby's jet black hair, which matched the hue of his father's. It hadn't thickened up enough for you to be able to style it yet, but you knew that your heart was going to melt as soon as you saw your baby wearing the same undercut as Levi.

Levi's nose immediately scrunched up as he gave his child a wary look the minute the teething toddler began gnawing at the plushie, very quickly covering part of the stuffed animal in his own slobber.

"Would you rather him be gnawing on his hands that have been touching every surface we've seen since leaving the house?"

The only response you heard from Levi was a gentle grunt as he acknowledged your comment.

You wheeled Levi and your baby over to a corner table on the outside porch of the bakery as soon as you arrived before walking inside to pick up the order that you had placed ahead of time.

You knew that Levi was not one to enjoy gifts, but you wanted to at least do something to celebrate. Plus, the three of you needed to get out of the house and go somewhere other than the teashop.

"No way," you uttered affectionately as you redirected your child's grabby hands away from the pastry cake you held in your hands. "I didn't even set this thing down yet."

While your child looked overly excited for the sugary treat that he technically wasn't even supposed to have yet, Levi held a skeptical expression, with one eyebrow raised higher than the other.

"Oh c'mon, it's like your first day off in what...two weeks?" you asked in an exasperated tone as you sat down. "I know you're very adamant about keeping the teashop together, but you should at least be allowed to celebrate your birthday."

"I've had days off."

You scoffed, clearly not believing him.

"Yeah, and you choose to spend them at the shop despite the fact that Gabi and Falco have been helping out."

"And leave the fate of the shop to those brats? Fuck no."

A scowl quickly appeared on your face as you visually berated him for cursing in front of your child, although you already knew that he didn't really care too much about that concept of not cursing in front of him.

He tightened his grip on his child that was getting increasingly fussy and turned him around to look into his eyes that matched yours in color.

"You have never made a fuss about your birthday, have you?" he asked with a serious expression. "Maybe you should have a chat with your mother."

You gently smacked Levi's shoulder with an annoyed, but also subtly amused look.

"He hasn't had a birthday yet, you dumbass."

You vaguely heard him scoff at your comment, amused at the fact that you cursed almost immediately after judging him for cursing within earshot of your baby.

"Just accept the 'happy birthday', you asshole."

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi fluff #follower event #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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muffinsin · 4 months

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👀anon here, I've re-read pretty much all of your masterlists at least a few times each at this point 😅 am always impressed with how prolific you are and how good your writing is! Thinking about your dimi hands hc...could I request how the girls would be with a s/o with an oral fixation? They notice initially things like their s/o near constantly having sweets/candy or a pen or a toothpick etc in their mouth but eventually those are replaced with the girls' fingers and maybe other things 👀👀

I’m glad you’re enjoying my works! :) makes me incredibly happy to hear y’all liking it this much🙇‍♀️🫶

speaking of: little info to everyone- Masterlist 3 is now due and out!!

This is a very interesting concept! Boy, have I got some ideas for it!👀 (the referenced hand HC post can be found here)

Let’s get into it!🙌😚

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Masterlist 3

Bela

Bela picks up on your oral fixation first. She’s very perceptive as it comes to the people she cares about, after all

Now, she doesn’t normally mind it

She does remind you of bacteria sometimes, though, and not to nibble on things that could be dirty, even if not so to the naked eye

You’re her partner, her little human. She cares for you. She also tends to view humans as weaker than they are, and doesn’t want bacteria to be the reason you get sick

It starts with nibbling on your thumb or sleeve, your nails even

She has a nervous habit of biting her lip or the tip of her fingernail sometimes, so she barely even notices this at first

Then, she finds that you nibble on the end of pencils as you write and pause between words or sentences

Rarely she even finds wooden pencils with bite marks at the back. She is fast to dispose of those, however, whether they are from you, a maiden or one of her sisters

She doesn’t want them around

In some situations she even needed to remind you not to nibble on the paint of your paintbrush when painting- You didn’t even seem to notice

In other instances, she finds you absently reading with your necklace lifted to your mouth

She wonders, does this fixation of yours also apply in bed?

She knows you enjoy giving her oral. You never turn it down, and are always eager to have her pant from the pleasure she receives

It doesn’t help that she is painfully sensitive most of the time and grows incredibly wet for you

She is somewhat of a meal, really, between her legs

Still, Bela is curious about your oral fixation and thinks of taking it to the next level

The next time you’re intimate, and have your fingers inside of her, she strikes

Bela swiftly pushes her slender fingers in your mouth, three at the same time

For a moment, she’s unsure- did she interpret it all wrong?

No, for she then notices you lick and suck them all too eagerly

It’s a flustering and adorable sight to her

Often, she will randomly make you suck her fingers. They’re strong and thin, and you seem to take a lot of pleasure from having them in your mouth, your tongue swirling around them eagerly

But, it isn’t quite what she has in mind yet

After all, if you must suck on things, there are plenty other options…

The moment Bela grew aware of your oral fixation, she has had distinct fantasies of you sucking her breasts

Her nipples are so sensitive, she can’t help it. She loves whenever you brush your tongue against them during sex, and it has her fantasize of you sucking them even more

Still, she is too shy to randomly bring it up

Again, during sex, when you’re pressed up against her and fondle her breasts, she is too lost in the pleasure to keep her naughty fantasy to herself

With her hand tangled in your hair, she gently guides your lips to her nipple

“Suck it, little one”, she pleads softly

You do not need to be told twice ;)

And Bela? Oh, you draw the sweetest of sounds from her

She makes it a point to have her fingers and breast in your mouth as often as you like. She will never refuse

At times, even, she will randomly make you suck her fingers during the day merely to fluster you

Of course she will not turn you down to do either for mere comfort reasons too

She finds both actions rather comforting too, should they not happen in a sexual manner

Every time you do nibble on something, she will tease you lightly, though

Cassandra

She doesn’t think you have an oral obsession at first, just that- well- you like chewing things

She finds you biting pencil ends as you concentrate

And your fingers at times, even

Or chewing gum (which she DESPISES) for hours

Or perhaps sucking candy at every given opportunity

She doesn’t mind, she just thinks it’s intriguing once she picks up on it

When you start absently sucking the tip of your thumb when you’re concentrating, she crackles

“Maybe you should get a pacifier?”, she suggests jokingly

Never did she think she would become one

Sleeping on top of you has always been something Cassandra likes to do, with her skin pressed tightly to yours and her hand rested on yours

As such, her chest is often close to you-

Cassandra is shocked when she wakes up in the middle of the night one time from a strange feeling around her nipple

Upon looking down, she finds you have it in your mouth, having had her breast pressed up against your chin prior

She shivers and shrieks a little when you bite down occasionally

Mistakingly, she thinks this is foreplay. But when she giggles, she hears no reaction from you. You’re deep asleep

She grants you this for the night, unwilling to wake you, but will absolutely pull her sore breast away the moment you wake up

She is not a chewing toy!

The interaction has her curious, though

The next night, she slips her fingers inside your mouth as you’re barely awake. Call it curiosity

Again, in no time you start sucking them and nibbling a little. She grins at her discovery as she pulls her wet fingers away again

During the next days, she likes to randomly tip your chin and push her fingers in you

“Good pet. Suck them for me”

To clean them, she claims, but there’s nothing to clean, really. She even makes sure they’re blood-free for her precious human

You’re flustered at this, but enjoy it

During sex, Cassandra implements this too- always has, in a way

It’s as if she just takes more notice of it now

How your hands busy yourself on her while your mouth explores eagerly, biting and nibbling on her

Her lips, her jawline, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts and nipples, her ribcage and waist, her hip and her lower stomach, her cunt and thighs, even her behind

She gasps at each bite placed on her unexpectedly. You must really enjoy working with your mouth

She loves to have you suck her fingers, she realizes

During sex, she makes you do so while riding out your orgasm especially

She especially likes you nibbling and sucking her inner thighs

She’s sensitive there

Cassandra still enjoys teasing you about your oral obsession at any given opportunity

She likes to randomly push her fingers in you and watch you attempt to ignore them, only to end up biting down or sucking in the end

Daniela

Daniela is no stranger to a bit of an oral fixation, although hers is not quite as strong

She too enjoys nibbling on things occasionally, especially as she sleeps peacefully

It helps her relax

She loves to nibble on some of her stuffed animals, too, sometimes even strands of her hair

Still, it takes her surprisingly long to pick up this behavior in you

Then again, it’s not something that bothers her. She finds it cute whenever she finds you nibble on something

The only reason she takes proper notice of it in the first place, is because you’re cuddled up together and she suddenly feels you raise her hand, intertwined with yours, to your mouth

You’re nibbling on the tip of your nail, breath warm against her colder and soft hand

She’s a little confused by this, though looking back, she has seen you do it before

Or sucking sweet or sour candy, which she always begs she can have

Or chewing well smelling gum at nearly all times

Or nibbling on your sleeve, until it’s wet

Or biting your lip and licking it over and over again

She wonders- why do you do it? Do you like it for comfort reasons? Or also sexual ones?

Her curiosity and teasing knows no bounds, and so she promptly turns you to her and pushes her fingers inside of your mouth instead

She likes watching them slide past your lips

“Do you like that, my love?”, she asks, genuine, though teasing

You certainly do!

Daniela quickly finds she likes having you suck her nimble fingers. Especially during sex

Her favorite thing to do?

To tie you up nice and snug for her, finger herself and make her cream for you merely to push her wet fingertips in your mouth and make you lick it all off

“Do you like this, my sweet?”, she’ll tease lightly, with a knowing smirk on her soft, painted lips

She loves making you suck her fingers and swirl your tongue around them- it’s addictive to both of you

Out of all things you could suck on her body, she loves having her breasts or cunt sucked best

Her sensitive nipples rested in your mouth, or moans drawn from her when she moves lower at last

In non sexual situations, she grants you to nibble on her whenever you want

Daniela doesn’t mind, even offers getting you a stuffed animal to bite down on sometimes

She also makes sure you always have chewing gum or candy on hand

Even if she wants it for herself

She still enjoys pushing her fingers in your mouth too, if only to see your reaction, then swarm off giggling to herself

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #👀 anon

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crimsondestroyer · 7 months

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Ryu Number: The M.C. from The Under Presents

Alright. I've done a few Ryu numbers in the past, but none as elaborate as this one, so for once, I figured I'd make my own post explaining the... elaborate, to say the least, path I took to get here. Several dead ends and a couple weeks of research later, here we are.

So. To those of you who don't know anything about the Under, hi. I'm crimsonDestroyer. One of my many hobbies is playing VR games, and one such game is The Under Presents, by Tender Claws, a game I play somewhat often and speedrun periodically. A while back, I wondered in passing if I could figure out a way to connect any of the Under's characters to Ryu, like, say, The M.C. This seemed like a simple question at the time, but, well, let's see.

To start off with, there's a fairly simple Limited route. One aspect of The Under Presents in the past was its live actors, in-game characters played by real people who would interact with mute player characters in the game's multiplayer areas. Unfortunately, the actor run has since ended, and though there's been brief returns of actors here and there, it seems to be mostly over. However, one such actor-played character was a skeleton going by the name of Amelia. As Amelia's lore would later highlight, she is, in fact, the one and only Amelia Earhart, prior to her death and entrance into the Under. There are many hints around the game's world that Amelia Earhart was in the Under in the past, but she herself is nowhere to be found - except for this live actor. Given this was, by its nature, a time-limited occurrence, this would give the M.C. a nice, clean Limited Ryu Number of 3.

However, Limited Ryu Numbers are lame. Can we do better?

One of the many locations you can visit in the Under is the Crob Pit. There, by solving a puzzle with some fellow players, you can summon a massive crab monster who will eat you, sending you to the Den, inside him. There, you can find an assortment of crab bones and other gruesome things, in addition to one peculiar fixture.

This is the only intact human skeleton in the entire game, within the stomach of an enormous crab. Now, given the fact that Amelia Earhart is mentioned excessively by props around the setting of the game, with items such as her plane and a banner for a show featuring her scattered all over the place, her physical absence within the Under is quite suspicious. Additionally, the actor-played character was created after the game released, and it's implied that the actor characters have some degree of the supernatural to them, meaning the existence of the actor in no way means that the character's physical body cannot remain elsewhere in the Under. Given the popular theory that Amelia Earhart's body was never found in real life because it was eaten by coconut crabs, this seems... intentional. If you consider this to be Amelia Earhart's body, the M.C. has a Ryu number of 3.

However, given the complete lack of any verbal confirmation or hints to this skeleton's identity, and this being solely based on context clues, I'm not confident calling it for certain, so let's keep digging.

One feature of the Under is the scripted stage shows, which play on loop on the main stage in the game's theater area. One such show features a man by the name of Sal Sisyphus. Sal's act consists of him rolling a boulder up a hill while giving a motivational speech that inevitably descends into nonsense after he slips and drops the boulder back down. That sounds quite a bit like traditional Sisyphus - endless torture, endless repetition, endless suffering, pushing a rock up and down a hill forever. Plus, as far as I can tell, the mythological Sisyphus has no second name given, so who's to say Sal isn't his first name? If you buy into that, the M.C. also has a Ryu number of 3.

But this one DEFINITELY felt pretty sketchy to me, so I went back to the drawing board once more.

Finding a way out of Tender Claws is... hard. See, Tender Claws has made three big commercially-released VR titles: The Under Presents, Virtual Virtual Reality, and Virtual Virtual Reality 2, all of which can be linked without much issue. A sentient skeleton named Tina works in both a stage act in the Under, and her namesake bar, Tinas', in VVR2's setting, Scottsdale. And, as a sequel, VVR2 features numerous returning characters from the original VVR. All you need is to find one character, just one, across those three games, and you have an out. There HAS to be something.

It was at this point that a friend mentioned that Elon Musk is in Virtual Virtual Reality 2, and I had to do a double-take.

Meet Elon. He's a talking onion. More accurately, he's an AI upload of a human consciousness who takes the form of a talking onion in the digital world. Between his name, his personality, his mannerisms, the fact that he was the second human to ever upload himself (after an extremely important character from the first game), and the fact that VVR2's virtual worlds are referred to as "metaverses", the implication as to who he is seems to be pretty obvious. I didn't know he existed, because I never finished VVR2 due to some technical issues. Regardless, here he is!

With a proper pop-culture figure in our hands, we can finally find our way out of Tender Claws. Elon Musk is still a relatively modern person, so there aren't many games with him in them yet, but with some clever googling and the help of TV Tropes, I tracked down an obscure little game called Good Pizza, Great Pizza, released for mobile and later ported to PC and Switch. In this game, you make pizza for an assortment of customers, real and fictional, which just so happens to include one Mr. Musk. From there, it was just a matter of tracing the rest of the way to Ryu from one of the other noteworthy characters who appear in the game. There was a tempting Dracula connection, but unfortunately, he's exclusive to a time-limited Halloween event. How ironic, that the first and last dead ends would both be time-limited characters. In any case, Albert Einstein will do the job of giving us our final two jumps nicely, passing through Mario's Time Machine, and finally bringing us home.

The M.C. has a Ryu number of 3/5, and a Limited Ryu Number of 3.

#the under presents #the mc #street fighter #ryu #ryu number

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spottyissleepwalking · 8 months

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Hello, sorry to bother you but can I ask a question about the warrior cats disability post you reblogged earlier? And I mean this in good faith, honestly, I want to understand.

I haven't read warrior cats, but just from what was described in the post, it sounds... realistic? Since not everyone bounces back from becoming disabled. For example, a coworker and I (in a labor intensive field) have the same injury to our knee. He, I guess you could say has responded "well" to his injury. He has a higher drive to push past pain, not let it limit what he can do, and is able to work as hard, or harder, than non-disabled coworkers, but he is still absolutely disabled. In his case, he often overworks himself and thus ends up having to take off several days to recover and is on a lot of pain medication, both Rx and self medicated. In the scenario presented in the post, he would def be able to stay in the warrior class. But I didn't respond well to my injury, and don't react well to pain. I fell into a deep deep depression that took almost 8 years to crawl out of. Doing the exact same tasks as he does, I work slower and more carefully, avoiding pain at all costs rather than pushing past/despite pain. I'm slower, not as effective. But I don't need to take time off or frequent breaks to recover, and though it takes a little longer, I do just as much work as he does at the end of the week when accounting for the time he takes to recover. I like to imagine that I've reacted to my injury well, but can't help feeling inadequate and worthless when compared to coworker. Especially on days that we work side by side and he's running quite literal circles around me. And remember, we have the exact same injury with very similar causes and only a few months time difference.

From what I understand of the culture of Warrior cats (which is admittedly very very little) I imagine I'd end up in a healer class as well, even if I wished I could be warrior class. I would give almost anything to work as fast, as effectively, as hard as coworker does. But I can't.

So I guess what I'm asking is, what am I missing from the narrative, as someone who hasn't read warrior cats, that makes a character, who has not returned to their former glory after an injury, a poor representation of disability? As the post stands on its own right now, it just feels like it's kicking disabled people when they're down for not acting like they're still fully abled. Like shaming a paralyzed person for not joining a sport.

I have to assume that it's just poorly worded for anyone outside the fandom, but it really does come of as... well... ableist. Which is what drove me to ask, since making assumptions of ableism is generally kinda shitty, and I am curious about the source material.

I hope I didn't come off aggressive or let my emotions on the subject get carried away here, genuinely sorry if it does come off rude. I promise am asking in good faith because I want to understand from a creative standpoint if the narrative actually handled it poorly, and how-so, to help myself and others potentially avoid making the same artistic mistakes.

Thank you for taking the time to read this wall of text, and again, so sorry for bothering you!

No no!! Not aggressive or rude or anything of the sort :D

I’ll be honest, I didn’t read the full text, but I got the gist of it so I’ll try to answer aptly ^^

The problem with Warriors isn’t that there isn’t disability representation - there is, it’s just. Awful. Why? Because almost every single disabled character, sans THREE, in a series that has thousands of named characters, is FORCED into a role they don’t want - or KILLED. Solely for being disabled, solely for being “different”.

It’s not that they necessarily chose that life for themselves, it’s that it was forced upon them, which is where so many fans (reasonably) draw issue with. Disabled characters are offered the bare minimum in Warriors canon. Either they’re essentially forced to become a doctor, with the trope of “the broken-bodied healing the able-bodied” (which personally unsettled me greatly), or they’re shipped off to the elder’s den, which is a place where cats retire due to old age and are cared for by their Clanmates, usually without ever having the chance to prove themselves, and display both their abilities and weaknesses. They’re just automatically shoved into this corner.

There was a Deaf character, once, in the decades-long span of this book series, that was told he would never become a warrior solely because of his deafness - and then was immediately killed off in a manner that was almost never used again as a device to kill a character.

There was a character who was hit by a car and, as a result, ended up losing the function of one of her back legs. Prior to this, she was training as any other young member of her society would. Immediately after? She became a doctor.

There was a character who became blind due to an outside force, and, despite being the equivalent of maybe a thirty-year-old, immediately retired to the elder’s den.

There was a born blind character who fought to train as a warrior, under a half-blind warrior. He was doing well in his training - until the in-universe religion came down to him and forced him to give up his dreams in order to become a doctor. Granted, his case was a little more complicated and intermingled with plot, but it still stands.

There was a character with anxiety who was a poor hunter, and was pressured to become a doctor because of his lack of skills.

There was a character who was paralyzed, and was dismissed as dead, or “better off dead”, by almost everyone around her - INCLUDING HER OWN FAMILY - except the blind character, who found kinship with her and fought tooth-and-nail to keep her alive and healthy.

And the thing is? These characters are CATS! Cats, who have been documented living alone in the wild with these sort of disabilities and thriving!! Which makes it all the more frustrating to see a narrative built around the appeal of cats, have them have this whole support system and community, and that community actively turn their backs on them.

It’s not about them choosing. It’s about them being forced. Not having any opportunity to grow, or learn, or allow others around them to do the same in regards to them. There’s no acceptance here. In universe, it seems like they’re just shoved into the shadows so the able bodied characters don’t have to look at them or think too hard about them, unless they’re healing their wounds.

The characters themselves are not the poor representation. It’s how the authors have handled them - by shoving them aside, to the shadows, to the dogs. It’s frustrating and disheartening.

#warrior cats #warriors #ask

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voidthewanderer · 3 days

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WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @bury-me-standing for today! Thanks!

The sketch layer, just like the last post with this pic, is hidden because it's just nothing but chaos with it showing. I'm taking a little bit more time to study some of my favorite artists and how they draw ghoul noses because I really just gotta figure it out having a majority ghoul character line up. So yeah, working on Ripper holding his kid.

But also, here, have some of the draft from A Different Life because I've been working on it pretty religiously as well. Here's the first few paragraphs of the second draft of chapter three. It's supposed to be a little bit more of a feel good type story with some minor, more realistic everyday conflicts rather than some of the over the more major conflicts that happen less often.

“Arsenic…”

The ghoul gave a soft groan, rolling over slightly, though didn’t open his eyes.

“Arsen~”

The voice had a soft warble to it now, despite the roughness. A soft touch on his arm garnered another soft groan, his own voice reflecting his groggy state, “Babe…”

“Baby, wake up…” Another hum, the hand lightly caressing his arm. His muscle twitched slightly at the touch, him finally opening an eye, smile soft on his lips, “What is it, babe?”

“I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, tucking his elbows beneath his back to prop himself up, “Damn… we get engaged an’ I get t’ have ya back in my life again. What more could I get t’ make this even better?”

“Get up and I’ll show you,” Crow chirped, ducking in to peck his cheek; him humming softly at the affection. He stretched slightly before pushing himself out of the bed to get dressed. Nothing major, at least not for today since he wasn’t cooking; a plain tank top and sweatpants. As he turned back to face Crow, he’d caught their gaze wandering before completely adverting it when they noticed they’d been caught. A smirk crept on his face, “Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, babe?”

“Just come on,” Crow turned and trotted out of the room before Arsenic could even take his first step, needing to widen his stride to catch up the the smaller ghoul. He could tell that they were still at least curious about everything, but was having a hard time processing their actual thoughts when it was brought up. It was a topic that they’d only discussed once and that had been the day they got together. Nobody knew what tragedy would happen eight months later…

Crow led Arsenic to the communal kitchen, holding a mug out to him, “Here.”

He glanced to it, confused, “What’s all this?”

“Well…we never really got to, y’know, start our lives as a couple. To really do things as a couple living together. I wanna start with this.” This raised a smile, his voice much softer than before as he carefully took the mug, “Of course, baby…”

Once Crow had grabbed their mug, the duo headed to the couch. Arsenic only had a moment to get settled before Crow practically curled up into his lap, hugging their mug close to their chest and pulling his free arm around their waist. He tightened his hold, shifting his legs so they were cradled against him, “There we go…”

They fell into a peaceful quiet, the warmth of just being together comforting. Some of the other ghouls started to shuffle about in their own morning routines before heading out to work. None of them paid any mind to the couple; though most feared that they’d probably get ripped a new one if they made a comment. Crow cuddled up more against Arsenic’s chest, him stifling a groan as they spoke, “What’d’ya think? Maybe we can get up early, make ourselves some coffee together and just… cuddle. I know you’re really not the type to but-”

“Shh… I’d love t’ keep doin’ this,” he chuffed, “Gotta remember, I was on th’ go for a long damn time. Don’t gotta do that anymore. Somethin’ small like this? It’ll be nice. This is my home. An’ I think it’ll be a learning experience for us both.”

#shut it void

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starwalker03 · 3 months

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Ayo it's late but 2023 Digital Art Progress

I drew the most digital stuff I've ever drawn last year. I finally pushed past a lot of my issues with the digital medium and figured out how to actually Do The Thing per se. so I think I got a lot better over the course of 2023. I definitely changed my visual style a lot, that's for sure.

Unfortunately I did lose my USB in 2023 as well so I lost a lot of my files. much sadness.

LONG POST. lots of drawings to get through and I have Thoughts.

Anyway these are dated in my files as March, which is my earliest I have rn, so this is kinda a representation of how I started the year.

I was busy most of April so May has two files. these were both a part of my semester one project of my degree.

I've got a lot of things dated for June, which is surprising. and not a lot of things dated after. I'm all over the place with starting wips and when it comes to finishing them... ehhh it happens eventually.

I really wish I could go back in time and fix that leg. I just wanted to avoid drawing toes lmao. the thick line art really is a problem to me but that's neither here nor there.

I think I finished a bunch of thing in June, because these are dated two days apart and I definitely started one before the other lmao. hell I think the one on the left was started in 2022.

I'm not sure when this was but it was early in the year. I tried to veer away from the harsh lines and ended up swinging too far into semi-realism. I loved how it was looking (this is still a wip) but the amount of time it was taking was too much for me to replicate again.

This definitely a June piece, because I wanted to do one character every few days throughout Pride Month. Didn't finish it.

last year my friends and I considered starting to record and post our dnd games, so I did some arts of the characters of our current campaign.

I think the solid black line art all of the same thickness was one of the main things I always disliked. I could never quite make it work with everything else I was doing.

This is probably the only work I did with solid black lines that I really liked. it seems to work okay here.

The July came around, and artfight with it! (this character belongs to Crimson_Deceit. You can find Crimson on instagram as Lova.cos or twitter also as Crimson_Deceit)

and then the DCU rarepair exchange came in September and I didn't have time to write treats so I drew them, which spawned a new attempt at shading things that I've been messing with ever since. I prefer the way my linework looks with it.

I messed around with clown oc designs in October, cause that was a mini trend on instagram. didn't finish fast enough to post it but i really like some of the designs.

in December I drew the OCs of some of my friends, as we finished our playthrough of CoS last year. this is our cleric, a changeling who went through many names and faces, depicted holding hands with their player @angelicsky64817

Last piece of the year was this muck around. I'm still trying to figure out some of these new style choices I'm making.

Finish off with a sneak at what I'm currently doing in the new year! I've been drawing one big piece so it's stretching over from january. It's still a wip. And it's such a big image I've gotta compress it.

woo! now I gotta go finish that thing. there's gonna be three more characters to the right of the yellow one. why have I done this to myself.

i hope that in 2024 i can get more of a grip on the saturation of my newer styles of drawing. and learn some more colour theory. and also get better at drawing skin, cause I think I'm mostly okay at clothes but skin always looks boring or weird.

#original charater art #2023 art summary #retrospective #digital art #2024 art goals #jab rambles #jab art

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yeowninefive · 4 months

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My 2023 Art Retrospective (Part 2)

This is the second part of an already long reflection of my art progress from this year. Click this link to read the first part.

Art output/reception: Not much else to say that was different from 2022, honestly. It's pretty straightforward sequel escalation--I managed to again beat my old records by a pretty significant amount--over eighty unique drawings, which increases to over ninety when including alternate versions...and the count goes even higher (over one-hundreds) when taking another factor into consideration (I'll address it later). I'd also again say that I do get the sentiment of my art being less obscure as it was in the past--I'd say there were a significant boost of interest (in views and/or interactions such as favorites/likes, reblogs/reposts, etc.) with my art in 2023 compared to 2022--with my 2023 art on dA actually showing nearly quadruple the number of favorites and number of views that my art in 2022 received (at least, based on my personal metrics of art with favorites/views above a certain threshold).

This giant amplification of art production is admittedly based on a few real-life scenarios. Overall I can definitely say that certain other hobbies that I like to do (watching films/shows and playing videogames/making Smash Bros. montages) took a major backseat; and that's actually something I'd like to address going into 2024. The question there of course is if I'm at a point where I could keep up my art production without--which is again where my time management comes in. I hope I can make better strides in figuring it out--there have been more than a few times where I've stayed up late working on art that I reasonably could had pushed off for later and went to bed, and spending lots of time on art that I could had spent doing something else. I am of the thought that if push really does come to shove, I'm okay with putting out less art for 2024 if it means I can get back to doing other things.

Another thing I'm thinking about/looking into using more is sticking more towards a fixed/predicting publishing schedule, so I can "stack up/queue" completed artwork and put more time towards other things. Posting art on multiple avenues is also time-consuming (esp. since I like to add tags and descriptions when appropriate), so I'm also thinking about learning how to utilize APIs, if possible, so I can quickly and/or simultaneously post new art to multiple platforms. Speaking of which.

Art platforms: I talked about trying to change strategy with my art platforms with the first-run/second-run approach, I even talking about having tumblr serving as more of a second-run account. Obviously, that didn't really pan out--that much is clear with this site still being the host for my retrospective art rambles, warts and all. I guess I'm just too embedded with this platform to really shift it towards second gear. Maybe I can take steps there by relying more with scheduled art releases.

I talked about expanding my platforms once Twitter started self-immolating under Elon's then-new control, and dA also showing its hand by jumping headfirst into the AI train. (And it goes without saying that tumblr itself, with the contentious choices and decisions taken this year, isn't off the hook with making dumb decisions--though they eventually overextended themselves/shot themselves in the foot and re-adjusted their focus. Which is...some sort of acknowledgement of mistakes, I guess?) I ended up wading into the waters of three new platforms (technically two, one was actually a 2nd take)...and my experience I'd say as a pretty mixed bag, probably leaning more towards negative.

Instagram was the one that I eventually decided to take another stab with, and I'm afraid I didn't get much, if any, value out of it at all. Even when re-entering that platform with my (to-date) most popular works as the focus, I ultimately felt the lack of interest rendered it of minimal value, even as a "second-run" art account; ultimately just having it go dormant. (By the same coin, it doesn't leave me really invested in setting up shop over at Threads--though I feel for anyone looking to swear off Musk-Twitter/X, I would definitely recommend people there as a baseline.) Cohost by the same coin is also pretty empty, but that at least has the argument of being a much smaller platform that is also aiming for a different approach to social media. Nonetheless, I feel like that's a platform I could probably pump the brakes on a bit in terms of use; with few people the wiser. Bluesky to me actually comes out the best out of the new ventures I've tried--namely because it has the most expats from Twitter that I'm familiar with, who I've been able to follow and share their art, and vice-versa. Even with it still lacking features, its growing audience (esp. with it now going public) feels like the ideal "new" platform to keep tabs on.

Between what's now currently five platforms I'm regularly active on (maybe four if I do move cohost towards more of a passive/background role), I don't see myself making any further expansions for 2024. Pillowfort I considered, but hadn't signed up the broad lack of activity, which eventually seemed to come back to haunt the site when they were at risk of shutting down due to lack of profits. They did manage a successful crowdfund, so hopefully that marks a turning point for their fortunes. Newgrounds is also probably the only other platform besides Bluesky that a lot of artists/creatives I follow have set-up shop; though I feel that if I do join Newgrounds, it will be as a replacement for an existing platform I'm already on, and not just another extension (e.g. if Twitter finally collapsed/was shut down/was widely abandoned).

Alternate art label/art blog: So when in art output I talked about an additional factor pushing my art over the triple digits this year? This was the additional factor. Sometime during the summer, I decided to open a new art blog under a new label where I can post art I normally wouldn't post under this label. (Art that to date, isn't explicit --not like I would be able to post such art here anyway-- but is suggestive/mature enough to not be worksafe.) Truth be told, there have are a couple of works on this blog/label that pushed the envelope a bit into that area anyway, and my main blog has historically had such material crop up on an regular--to--irregular basis regardless. In other words, this is a bit of an expected/natural extension.

My current policy is that this blog and my main blog don't really directly draw attention to it outside of a few instances like this one, or even really acknowledge it by name. The most I will say (for anyone curious/looking for it) is that art from that blog occasionally turns up in my main blog, and it (to date) has only featured some of my OCs (and at least one from another creator).

A Decade of Drawing: If you've been following my Twitter account, you may be aware of a long thread I wrote impromptu in response to another creator, with me discussing why I'm not as "big" as a creator that I probably/possible could have been or should had been, which I feel serves as a more self-critical review of my art trajectory over the past ten years. (Long story shortened into bullet points--subject matter, drawing process/frequency, "timing" of when I started drawing, the platforms I posted my art on in question, and commissions/requests. Some of this stuff I've already touched on in this retrospective already.)

However, I would also like to turn things towards more of a positive note by pointing out what I've done then compared to now. I'm still sheepish about stuff like doing art commissions; but I'm still able to occasionally crank out gift art like I do like nobody's business--and I mainly do those purely just for the fun of it. By that coin, although I'm still a (self-prescribed) obscure artist, I know there does exist small group of people on the 'net somewhere (other artists, just online friends, and others) that are honest fans of the stuff I make and continue following my works and ideas, and I don't ever want to lose sight of that.

I feel that I've also really broadened my art direction in trying to replicate multiple art directions and different subjects. I still have yet to really try and reattempt my oldest stuff (environmental artwork/landscapes), but I've also freely bounced around between original character design, fanart, animation, comics, and videogame concepts. Although I've drawn OCs and comics before, I don't really think I've ever really taken seriously writing down ideas for stories/characters and polish/develop them until I started drawing on a regular basis. (This seems a bit premature to boast as an accomplishment, but I really do mean it--it's honestly up to myself to prove it and really start translating the backlog of my concepts.)

I'll finally end things here by putting it into the perspective of this real-life factoid. A lot can change in ten years for the better, and I'd say it's not just my art that has done so. I started this little online art career shortly after I had just graduated from high school, and was getting prepared to start attending college. My first drawing tablet was itself a graduation gift. That was ten years (and an additional extra six-seven months) ago.

At some point in the first month of the new year, my degree (which after an entire decade of trials, tribulations, and setbacks, I was able to finally complete in December) is supposed to arrive in the mail. I'll probably post a little doodle to commemorate the occasion. In a lot of ways, I view 2013 as the end of an age and the dawn of the next; and I feel confident is saying with the end of 2023 and going into 2024, the feelings and sentiments are very much familiar.

....

I think I have finally covered everything that was on my mind. Again, here's an honest thank you to anyone who has stuck around to read the whole thing (so far), and have a Happy New Year's Eve/New Year's Day and a wonderful 2024.

#2023 #2023 year in review #art retrospective #long post #art retrospective part 2

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mooniefics · 3 years

Text

— a life in your shape

pairing : jean kirschtein / reader

word count : 2.5k

tags : unrequited love, pining, near death experience, confession of love, hurt no comfort lol

warnings : canon-typical violence, descriptions of injury to the reader

summary : you've always wanted it, always pictured it, always ached for it. you loved when jean looked you way. all you'd ever wanted was a life with him, not just a life in his shape.

— originally posted 1 / 22 / 21 on ao3 —

the mess hall was buzzing with life, rowdy with the chatter of dozens of cadets seated at long tables and speaking through swallows of their food. glasses were lifted and set down, bowls and plates clinking, utensils scraping sharply over various surfaces, nearly so loud that you could barely hear yourself think. but it all seemed to come to an abrupt silence when you settled your eyes back on him, taking in his formerly pale complexion now bronzy and sun-kissed from your hours of training, the annoyed yet playful glances he shot to connie and sasha as he worked through his soup and bread, full lips forming words that you couldn’t quite focus.

you were almost embarrassed of how smitten you were with jean, but in your mind, you couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't be taken with him. his thin frame had filled out with lean muscle in the year and a half that you'd been training together in the 104th corp, somehow managing to grow even taller than he already was on that first day, still so spirited with his persistence to be among the best of this class, a lively spark that never seemed to dampen gleaming behind his eyes.

"oh god, this again, jean?" you heard connie bemoan exaggeratedly, pulling you from the trance that you were surprised the other three at the table hadn't taken notice of.

jean was almost pouting now, and you would've found it so endearing had it not been the next words to spill from his mouth, indignant and full of tenacity. "don't be an ass, i've been trying to figure out a good excuse to sit with her for days now."

you followed his gaze despite knowing exactly who you'd find his eyes locked on, and forced yourself not to frown when you were met with the sight of mikasa just a few tables away.

"she's out of your league, man. not to mention having a thing for jaeger already, and not to mention that jaeger wouldn't hesitate to hand your ass to you again if you pissed him off like you always do. cut it out."

"connie, that's mean!" sasha feigned offense on jean's behalf, most likely for the sake of goading the reply that came as a distraction to snatch the remainder of bread from his plate.

"i'm just being honest with him here. he's asking for advice, so i gave him some. jean always talks about being realist and yet he— hey is that my food?!"

you turned away just as connie was lunging himself across the table, hearing the sounds of his fruitless efforts to tear the loaf from the girl's mouth, propping yourself up on your elbows and allowing your head to fall into your hands with a heavy sigh.

"what do you think?" in an instant, jean's eyes were on you, amber irises looking so intently at you that you could already feel a bothersome heat flushing your face. but registering his question sobered you, and stealing a glance at the beautiful dark-haired girl seated somewhere to your left was all in took to snuff out the light flutter in your chest.

"i don't know, jean. i think connie's kind of right about the whole eren thing." you were honest with him on a surface level, but it still didn't feel good to see him frown when you told him something he obviously didn't want to hear. you tried to remedy it by offering something more introspective—something a bit more true to your heart. "what i mean is that.. i think you're selling yourself short. mikasa obviously has her sights set elsewhere at the moment, and i just think you deserve someone who can bring the same sort of.." you struggled with your words for a moment, how could you not when he was leaning forward like that, listening so intently to you and you alone. "the same sort of passion. someone who can reciprocate." someone like me. but you bit those foolish words back.

"you understand, don't you?" he implored, looking past the bickering mess that sasha and connie had devolved to and gazing with such longing in the other girl's direction, "i mean.. i've never seen anyone like her, no one as beautiful.." each word gouged at your heart, a cold, empty sensation that left your chest feeling painfully hollow. "i know you're a girl, but you can see it too, right?"

you could see it, you were painfully aware of how you could never match up to her unfamiliar yet alluring features, that graceful, slender frame that could somehow soar through the air with ease and still thrown you down onto your back so hard it would knock the wind out of you, introversion that gave off such a charming air of mystery to her admirers.

"yeah," you mumbled back, ignoring how a huffing connie fell heavily back into his seat beside jean, defeated, sasha happily gulping down her unfairly earned chunk of bread, only taking notice of how jean was too fixated on mikasa to pay your dismay any mind, "i see it alright."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the air was thick with an unrelenting heat, stinking of steam and coppery with fresh blood, your vision fading in and out. your head was ringing with a deafening, high pitched peal and such an unbearable, crippling pain. you could feel your boots dragging across the hot dry dirt as something tugged you back by the collar of your shirt, and the terror of a titan with its misshaped limbs and mouth hauling you to your demise made you thrash aimlessly, screams for help spilling out as a disjointed groan of pain. and though it almost sounded as if you were underwater, sinking further and further beneath the lapping waves of your impending unconscious, you heard it, muffled, desperate, thick with tears, your name spilling from his lips.

and suddenly you remembered, you remembered the kidnapping and the unfaithful comrades and the mission to save humanity's last hope, your former friend now an almost unrecognizable abomination with ymir, bertholdt, and eren sitting atop his shoulders, clasped in his monstrous hands, that had now resorted to flinging titans in his primal desperation for escape. and as you blinked away the spots blacking out your vision, head lolling uselessly to the side, you could see your horse, half crushed in a puddle of red on the yellow grass, and realized that the warmth streaming down the side of your face is your own blood.

"jean..?" you mumbled, uselessly, barely coherent, but the near sob of relief from behind you is like an anchor back to reality.

you could see his calves on either side of you, feet kicking up clouds of dust as he pushed you both back, further from the fray and carnage, as far as he could muster. one of your blade scabbards was missing, you could feel that the clip on your gas tank had snapped off in your spectacular fall caused by the titan that was flung down in your path, irreparable damage most likely made to the fine mechanisms within the housing of your gear. you felt utterly hopeless, watching as the shade of a tree just barely shielded you from the blazing light of the sinking sun, hearing jean's gasping pants from behind you, feeling how rapidly his chest was rising and falling against the back of your head as you slumped into his body, leaden limbs weighing you down uselessly.

"jean." you wheezed, trying desperately to crane your heavy head back to meet his eyes one last time, eyes that no longer harbored the naive passion of youth but still gleamed so radiantly, "leave me.. here. you're g'nna— gonna die.. if you stay..."

you could feel his violent trembles now, feel him rip his green cloak from his shoulder to press against the throbbing wound on your head. "no. i-i'm staying. i n-n-need," he was scared, you knew he was terrified of allowing what happened to marco to happen to you, or sasha, or connie, or anybody, even if the boy's death was nowhere near his fault, "i need to s-save you."

but you could also feel something else—feel it coming—the terrible, earth trembling footfalls of a titan making a shambling, uncoordinated advance to you and the scent of your blood. and suddenly jean was screaming, a sound so raw and petrified that you couldn't help but cry yourself at the sound of it. he laid you down on the ground, bunched cloak pillowing your bleeding skull, unable to push himself to his feet but still drawing his last blade to swing at the thing coming to kill you both, covering your battered body with his own.

and in that moment, you hated yourself. though your head was swimming and your lucidity was waning, you knew that you would both die there, under the baking sun and in the jaws of a titan, and it would be your fault. every regret that you'd ever harbored flooded your mind: not hugging your mother long enough when you still had the chance, not drinking that liquor when squad leader hange had offered it to you, and, most of all, never having the bravery to be honest with jean.

and you mourned all that lost time in those final moments, every late night you'd spent as trainees under the stars when you and your friends would sneak out of the dormitories to talk at some ungodly hour, every shared meal where you didn't speak nearly enough to him, every second of the crushing embraces you'd offered each other when the thought of your fallen friends caught up to you and proved to be far too much to handle on your own. how could you have done so much yet so little with your life?

and just as the titan was stumbling upon you, jean's scream of terror dampening out into a faithless cry, the thing was gone, galloping away to join a newly assembled horde descending upon one single point on the plain. but somehow, you felt no relief, not as you reached out a weak, trembled hand to grasp the blood and dirt streaked fabric of his shirt.

and as he turned to you, eyes still wide and body shaking with horror, thrumming with the adrenaline of near-death, you whispered, hoarse and tired as your grasp on the world slipped away. "i love you, jean. i love you."

your eyes fell shut, the involuntary spiral down further and further into the deep waters of unconsciousness pulling you in deeper and deeper by the second. you were grateful that you at least got to say something meaningful as your last words.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

there was a bright light, delicate, billowing fabric flouncing about in your bleary gaze as your eyes barely opened, something wrapped tight around your head, not making the pressure of the pounding headache any better. you couldn't fight the groan that even the small movement of turning onto your back caused, but you tried to force your lids open just an inch more at the sound of a gasp coming from somewhere in the room.

there were fast footsteps, a few shouts of "sasha, no!" and then a crushing weight on your chest, squeezing around you, pulling you up in bed as a tearful sob of your name came from a comfortingly familiar voice.

"sasha. please. h-hurts." you barely managed to croak out, feeling yourself been torn free—or rather, her torn away—as connie yelled.

"get off them, you moron, they're fucking injured!!"

"i'm s-s-sorry!" she wailed, allowing herself to be dragged to the door by the disgruntled boy, "i'm j-just so happy you're s-s-still alive!!!"

"and i am too, but that doesn't mean i'm gonna go throw myself on top of them while they're in the hospital!"

their bickering was almost comforting in a way, allowing the strain in your chest from sasha's hug to ease as you watched them elbow each other in the sides on their way out of the room to take their loudness out into the hall, blowing raspberries and struggling to not laugh through their feigned anger. and finally your gaze was allowed to wander over to the furthest wall from your bed, and you saw jean, staring down at his shoes, brow furrowed and lip bitten. and he seemed almost startled to find yourself in his gaze, feet slowly taking him to your side.

"i owe you my life, you know?" you said as he settled himself on the edge of the mattress, still not meeting your gaze.

"you don't owe me anything. you shouldn't feel in debt to me."

"but i do," you risked to settle your hand over his, finally drawing his worried, amber eyes onto yours, and you could feel your heart beginning to pick up, the butterflies that you had always forced to settle with a pessimistic thought to squash your optimism light in your chest, "i meant what i said before i passed out in the field. i always have."

and for just a moment, you thought that this was finally it, that you would no longer have to languish over wasted time and wasted words, fingers just barely curling around his warm palm. then, a knock at the door, light and delicate before the handle turned, pushing open to reveal mikasa.

and you caught every small movement of jean's features, the way his eyes sparked with a familiar light, the sudden, faint flush of color across his slender face, lips parting and just barely perking up at the ends. an endless, unwavering adoration.

"eren is awake, if you'd like to talk to him." that was all she had peeked in to say, but jean was still gazing at the door for a moment too long after she'd left.

"u-um.. if you don't mind—"

"go ahead." you told him, gently, pulling your hand away, retreating as far as your body could into the mattress, under the covers, turning your gaze away.

and though he'd slowly, almost nervously exited your room, you could hear the clear pick-up in his pace as soon as he'd shut the door behind him and exited into the hall, probably rushing to try and catch mikasa for a moment alone in the hallway before he had to share her attention with everyone else.

and it hurt, like a blade buried between your ribs, being jerked and twisted with every memory of his affinity, the one that was never directed at you despite how you craved it. and you'd realized that you had melded a life in his shape, a life where you were always just a few steps too far behind, hand outstretched, reaching for him as you hurried to grasp at any minuscule opportunity to be with him, speak to him, hear his laugh and see his near blinding smiles that never seemed to last long enough to you.

but, perhaps one day, someday farther into the future. and if not then, maybe in another life.

#jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein angst #jean kirstein angst #snk x reader #snk x you #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction

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septiembrre · 2 years

Note

I am very behind on Tumblr so just saw your "Ask Me Anything" on any fic post (no worries if you're not still in the mood!) I've reread Chapter 2 ("Let's Run Away Together" Kiss) of "On A One-Last-Time Basis" about a million times. I love the tentativeness mixed with the growing comfortableness plus the hopefulness of the strengthening relationship. So my question - DID they got to Hawaii? Where in Hawaii? How was it? Did she wear the red swimsuit and the big hat!! ❤️❤️❤️

Joey!!! This has been such a fun thing to think about this week. Thank you for reminding me of this prompt fill. It makes me so happy to know you read it from time to time.

I started to write out the responses to your question and then i started to daydream about the whole situation and well. I still need to write the part where they're actually on the beach, but I had fun imagining them getting there.

*****

Beth wedged her hands between the backs of her thighs and the cloth of the backseat. All the things that could go wrong – a delay at the airport, missing their connection, a broken bone while she was two flights away from her children – looped in her brain, only periodically interrupted by the smaller, but profoundly embarrassing thought: would security confiscate the handcuffs?

He had dared her to do it, twisted those stupidly pouty lips, and said, “I mean... I guess if you’re scared.” Then, he looked at her and made that face. “Seems kinda sad though. This is what gets you.”

And in an annoying way, he was right. The crazy stuff she’s done–

Except.

This was federal, right? Like a different kind of federal? Beth was a money launderer complicit in murder and annoyingly partnered with said murderer but –

She can’t help it. She draws the line at being suspected of terrorism.

“Darlin’, they’re gonna act up and throw us to second inspection at some point anyway.”

“Why… would they do that?”

Rio tsked. “They got some dumb flag on my passport. It comes up every time they run it.” He said this almost proudly. “That’s why I have others–” a bossy, implied you hovered behind that. “–cross my money.”

At that, Beth blinked. Then she rolled her eyes. “Our money.”

She googled the legality of it on at least three separate occasions just to be sure. However, now in the car on the way to the airport, the idea of some uniformed stranger lifting the handcuffs from her carry-on by one single gloved finger, the shiny metal glittering for an audience was making Beth want to puke.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the thought lingering on the outskirts of her mind–that this whole week just them, alone, without any interruptions or distractions, would really push the truce they built. For one, they could murder each other. But, also–

What if...

What if Rio reconsidered this? Whatever this was. Like all the flustering... promise of the past few months fell flat on its face because… Because what if after all these weeks of looking forward to it (stressing about it), they flew all that way and Beth still couldn’t relax? What if she ruined it for her and for him? Or what if…

What if they weren’t fun?

This last thought made her stomach flop. The sensation of cotton felt heavy in her ears.

She took a deep breath.

Or maybe the nausea was from the bundle of Black Ice dangling from the rearview mirror. Her stomach lurched again as Mick cut off a car to merge onto the interstate.

Next to her, Rio muttered, “Chill, güey.” Then, he cracked his window. The sudden noise startled Beth and Rio’s hand came to squeeze her knee. Cool air cut across the back seat as Mick and Rio were locked in some sort of nonverbal battle about Mick’s driving through the rearview mirror until Rio pointedly looked away.

His elbow tapped against hers. Beth’s gaze pulled to his.

“Hello, darlin’.”

This expression, curling the edge of his lips just so, was new. It was honest, eager, and it notched itself in the center of Beth’s chest. And like always, something about his undivided attention shorts out the stream of worries, the ticker, and she couldn’t help but grin back at him.

****

They make it through security without any significant scrutiny. No one on the other side seems to bat an eyelash either when she and Rio duck into a single-stall bathroom together.

When they finally make it on their plane, they drink champagne in first class.

#preguntitas #i'll work on the actual answer to your questions shortly #the hat and red swimsuit will make a resurgence #Joey I'm not sure if you remember this but you had giving me a prompt of Brio + bumping shoulders #and i think i can make it work with the next half #i had been so stumped on it!

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fayeimara · 3 years

Text

Meant To Be Series || One For Every Billion

1. Operation: Meet Shiratorizawa

*Both written and SMAU parts this epsiode*

You hear the familiar sound as you open the door and look inside the gym. The Shiratorizawa campus is definitely impressive but nothing feels more familiar than walking into a strange gym filled with mostly strangers. Back home or a world away, volleyball is the same, perfect sport.

"Y/nnnnnn!"

You're smiling wide before you even lock eyes with your favourite redhead. "Tendou!"

Your greeting is muffled in a bear hug to beat all bear hugs and you can't help but laugh as you wrap your arms around your cousin's best friend.

"I am glad you could make it." Toshi is standing behind Tendou with a small smile and you pull away to give him a hug too.

"Let us introduce you to coach first, and then you can meet the others."

"Sounds good!"

The three of you walk over to the side where a small elderly man is scowling at the players on the court and when Toshi introduces you, you follow what you know of polite customs here and bow at the waist in greeting, "Thank you for having me!"

"I hear you play as a setter for a premier league."

Yeah, Tendou and Toshi weren't lying about his intimidating demeanor, but you're unfazed. You've dealt with some like him and they're good leaders in their own way.

"Yes, sir."

"You're quite short for your age."

You blink. You're pretty sure you're the average height for girls your age. You're definitely on or above average in your league even though you're not as tall as your hitters. Okay, cheeky, it is.

"Yes, sir. I hear that sometimes from opponents before we play. Not so much after a game, however, if at all." Tendou starts chuckling only to muffle it when the coach's sharp gaze locks onto him for a moment before focusing back on the court.

"Is that so." He finally looks over, making eye contact and drawing out the silence for a few quiet seconds. "Well, height isn't critical for a setter, though it's an asset."

"Yes, sir." You have to bite the inside of your cheek so you don't push it. You're aware of his status and tenure, after all. To someone like him, kids your age with a little cheeky boldness and confidence can be surprising and impressive. Too much is disrespectful and you're still a guest here at the end of the day.

He looks back at the team and you do startle a bit when he barks out, "Did I say it was time for a break?!"

Looking over to the court, you finally realize the practice game has all but stopped. You meet several wide eyed, disbelieving stares before they jolt back into motion.

Tendou and Toshi leave you there to rejoin their teammates with a grimace and a nod, respectively. You just smile blandly and take a seat next to their coach.

-x-x-x-

By the time Coach Washijo blows the whistle for the end of their practice, you've got a clipboard on your lap with notes and the begrudging respect of the ornery man beside you. Yes, you know your shit when it comes to volleyball and you didn't hesitate to use your knowledge to impress. You have a feeling he'll be taking a look at the link you wrote down to your national games at some point given the observations you pointed out. Mission: Success.

As the boys are grabbing water and towels and gathering around, Coach locks eyes with you once again to study you as you smile politely back at him, waiting for what he's chewing over. "You can visit again."

And then he stands to address his team before heading over to his office and leave them to clean up.

You look away from his retreating figure and, oh my, that's a lot of eyes on you. Why do athletes look so pretty? You smile wider and stand to introduce yourself, "Hello. I'm L/n, Y/n, Toshi's cousin. Nice to meet you all and thank you for having me here for this practice."

You bow and they start stuttering and speaking over each other while Tendou laughs, knowing you're also teasing a little. They're clearly flustered so it takes the edge of your own nerves and your smile relaxes into something a little easier.

"Wow.. that was.. different. I've never seen anyone interact with Coach like that." You look over to an ash haired boy, oh hello- "I'm Eita Semi. Nice to meet you.”

He sounds a little brusque.. hmm. He's their setter and knowing Toshi and Tendou...

"Semi-san, your sets... they really show your love for volleyball."

His mouth drops, hopefully in surprise, but you also hope you didn't say anything too forward? You know it's pretty different here and some things like feelings aren't used as carelessly in conversation but.. he's blushing. Oh no.

You try to correct, just in case, "I mean, I hope it's not presumptuous or inappropriate to say! I'm lucky to call myself a setter too, so from one to another, I just wanted to say I can see how much fun you have and it's inspiring!"

Okay, now Tendou is literally dying of laughter, bent over grabbing his stomach but you can see his face and yeah, he literally looks like the emoji that's crying with laughter. And- what?! Even Toshi is smiling a little, he knows that under your calm and playful exterior there's an impulsive, reckless storm.

Semi raises his hand up to the back of his head and you swear he's full on blushing. Okay, yeah, no, you're good. It might sound cruel but when you see people more embarrassed or flustered than you, usually, you find your own equilibrium steadies in response.

"That's- uh- thanks! I hear you're incredible. I mean, as a setter. I- Thanks."

The rest of the team has been looking on and slowly amusement and excitement is like a wave that slides across their features. One of his teammates hits Semi across the back, knocking him forward a bit, while teasing him about compliments from a pretty girl. But you politely pretend not to hear and focus on some of the other members as they start asking you about yourself and answering your return questions about each of them.

I think we can call Operation: Meet Shiratorizawa a success, you think, happily satisfied with the people your dear cousin has to call his teammates and friends.

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Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-Toshi is not directly related to Y/n but they might as well be brother and sister for how close they are

-He’s actually her (bear with me, please) dad’s brother’s sister-in-law’s son : Her uncle’s wife is an Ushijima - so her aunt by marriage is sister to Toshi’s mom.. I’m sorry, am I making any sense?

-Their mutual cousins will appear in the story, you’ve already seen their profiles in Family Matters: Kazuya, Akira, and Akari

-Tendou has known Y/n as long as he’s known Toshi and treats her like a cross between best friend and older brother, which means he’s sometimes mean, always teasing, and he will smack, cut, bury a bitch if they hurt her

A/N: Two things.. 1) I absolutely love Ushijima, I find he's seriously underrated. Although I guess I’m guilty here too because he’s Y/n’s family instead of a love interest 😔 If anyone ever wants to see a Toshi fic, let me know, I’ll do my best to work on his characterization 2) CHARACTERIZATION... guys, I’ve wondered this with all the HQ characters I’ve incorporated so far, but.. I don’t know if I’m hitting anywhere close to what they might actually be like in the scenarios I put them in?? So I apologize in advance, and profusely, for all the HQ characters that turn out not quite.. the way they should lol. The writing kinda sorta maybe gets away from me all the time 😅

I lied, there's a third.. I know I've made several posts on days that I've posted so far, and while I do hope to be consistent with a steady couple posts a week (particularly concerning this fic, or rather, not including other fics and stuff I might decide to post as I get more comfortable here), I may not always be able to deliver the same amount of content as I a) am still slowly getting a handle on the social media aspect and how to smoothly deliver it; and b) catch up to where I'm at in the story. So I just want you all to know, I really appreciate your patience with me <3

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jimmygibbsjrrr · 3 years

Text

I have a lot of thoughts about the Slaters

namely, I've been wonderin why the Fairfield Survivors got thrown off the boat in Death Toll

in this panel of The Sacrifice comic, Francis confirms the fates of three of the rescue vehicles:

Image ID:

A panel from The Sacrifice: Part 1. Francis is sat in the rescue vehicle from Blood Harvest, speaking to Louis. His dialogue is as follows:

"Louis, I hate to be the one to break this to ya, but we been heading to the safe zone four times now. Helicopter: crashed. Plane: crashed. Boat: kicked us out and left us to die."

/end ID

the chopper from No Mercy was confirmed crashed in Crash Course, and as for the plane from Dead Air, it was pretty easy to guess (and would have been confirmed in the cut campaign Dam It).

but the part about the boat? that's the Slaters' boat from Death Toll. this is the first time we learn this information.

so...why? what happened?

(more under the cut, ended up writing wayyyy more than I expected over these past few days and don't wanna clog people's dashes lol)

so. let's take a quick dive into the last chapter of Death Toll, to see what we can discern about the Slaters from their dialogue.

the rescue vehicle in Death Toll is a civilian boat, Saint Lidia II, owned by John and Amanda Slater, a married couple. Amanda is never heard in-game, but John's reactions to her can be heard over the radio.

the Slaters are explicitly looking for "anyone out there with firearms". John later adds that "once you get on this boat? Your job is keeping our asses alive". it appears that their motivation for saving the Survivors is selfish from the get-go.

this is undoubtedly true in Amanda's case, however, some of John's lines betray a more selfless attitude. he will berate Amanda for not "think[ing] about the little guy". he will ask, "So what, then? We leave 'em to die? I can't do that, Amanda." whilst Amanda is thinking purely of their own survival, John still feels compassionate towards his fellow survivors. despite this, he says that "I don't want our first act of kindness to be our last", acknowledging the conflict between his compassion and his self-preservation.

so. these are the Survivor's saviours in Death Toll. a conflicted married couple looking for bodyguards, offering to take the Survivors upriver to a military safe zone in exchange for protection.

as for why they get thrown off the boat...well, the easiest explanation would be Amanda.

but, stay with me here, because I think it's a little more complicated than that.

this boat? fulla tension. there's the obvious tension between the Slaters, who we've established seem to fight and disagree regularly. then there's the inevitable tension between them and the Survivors. I reckon Louis, with his generally positive and friendly attitude, wouldn't have much of a problem with them, might even attempt some friendly conversation or something. however, he's about the only one.

the comic fully establishes Bill as caring about nobody except the Fairfield Survivors - the most obvious evidence of this being the words he lives and dies by, "we look after our own". he isn't particularly interested in other people, unless they can help the group out. and he'd likely recognise the unstable and conditional nature of their rescue. while I'm sure he'd try and keep the peace, in any reasonable disagreement or fight Bill's likely to take his friends' side, and if anyone's getting thrown off the boat Bill is going with them. this goes for the whole group, to be honest; I don't think they'd want to split up at this point.

Francis hates boats, hates water, and can't swim, so (and I'm getting a little speculate-y here) would probably be in an even sourer mood than usual on the journey. being as abrasive as he is, plus this additional stress, it's fully possible he could piss off the Slaters enough to get himself (or all of them) thrown off the boat.

as for Zoey? well, I don't imagine a married couple who constantly argues is gonna sit well with her, considering her backstory. similarly to Francis, the situation they're in would make her far more stressed, making it more likely for her to lash out.

Amanda didn't want to save the Survivors in the first place, so while I think that John wouldn't throw them off the boat without reason, I reckon she could persuade him to throw them off if they 'caused trouble' - and they would get into an argument with her far easier than they would with John.

in short: yeah, I can see them getting thrown off the boat by the Slaters after some huge fight or disagreement. I think that's a reasonable interpretation of canon, and definitely an interesting concept.

...however, I do wonder if this tension would really be enough to destabilise their mutual need, after everything they went through to come together.

which is why I'm going to bring up The Last Stand!

I gotta quickly address something before this segment: yeah, I'm totally aware this campaign isn't canon. this evidence works with the fact that it exists in an 'alternate timeline'. also, I am missing a few citations for this section - if anyone can provide them I'd really appreciate it, but just a disclaimer that I currently can't prove some of the things the wiki claims members of the Last Stand Community Update Team have said. here and here are the wiki pages where I got this information. in short - the above explanation is simpler and more canon compliant, the conclusion I draw at the end of this post is backed by shakier evidence but I believe is more interesting, and you can make of all that what you will.

allegedly, members of the Last Stand Community Update Team confirmed a strongly-suspected fan theory about The Last Stand: that it branches off from Death Toll in some way, in a non-canon alternative timeline. as well as this, they allegedly confirmed that in this alternative timeline, the Survivors still end up in Newburg for Dead Air. even without the confirmation, this remains a solid fan theory, due to the constant references to Riverside and re-use of many of Death Toll's assets.

who rescues the Survivors in The Last Stand? John Slater. no Amanda - just John. despite her lack of voice actress, if she was still present John would give some indication of this at some point. it can be speculated that whatever happened to her contributed to the lack of rescue at the boathouse that forced the Survivors to take an alternative route. either way, he ends up at the lighthouse when the Survivors call for rescue, alone, and picks them up.

and then later...throws them off the boat. into Newburg.

what reason would John have to do that? without Amanda, surely he wouldn't have that push, as he wanted to rescue the Survivors for multiple reasons in the first place. without his constant arguments with Amanda, Zoey wouldn't be nearly as stressed. and between the three of them I'm sure the other Fairfield Survivors would stop Francis from pissing John off enough to get them thrown off the boat. in short, less Amanda = less tension, and no reason for the Survivors getting chucked off the boat.

...right?

I'd like to remind you that a symptom of the Infection is paranoia.

what if, in both The Last Stand and Death Toll, John and Amanda are infected by the Survivors on the way to the military safe zone? after all, the virus is confirmed to occasionally be airborne, and I doubt two civilians have completely effective, sustained protection against that. likely the only reason they hadn't already been Infected is because they got out on the water early on in the pandemic, and hadn't come into contact with anyone else since. it's unlikely that one of them is immune, and even more unlikely that they're both immune (especially considering those with XX chromosomes may be genetically less likely to be carriers). wouldn't Francis have mentioned it if their rescuers turned or were obviously Infected? yes, but it's possible that the airborne strain works slower as well, meaning that the Survivors are thrown off of the boat after the symptoms kick in but before the Slaters fully turn. even Church Guy had at least an hour from being Infected to turning, and he was bitten. Newburg isn't too far from where the Survivors are rescued in Death Toll anyway (the burning city in the background of the finale is Newburg), so the Survivors clearly didn't last long on the boat anyway. as a result, the Survivors wouldn't realise it was the Infection intensifying the Slaters' paranoia - they'd just think the Slaters were being dicks. Francis also explicitly mentions that they were "left to die", implying negativity or even hostility from the Slaters as the Survivors were being thrown off.

so yeah. that's why I think they got thrown off of the boat in Death Toll - a combination of the intense tension between the two parties, and the Slaters falling victim to Infection-induced paranoia. but an explanation minus the Infection is equally as plausible. it all depends on what you find most interesting, I suppose, and both feel like they fit pretty well into the world.

lord this is a long chunk o text. I know most fandoms prefer art and fanfic over this sorta thing, so please let me know in replies or something if you're interested in more stuff like this. also if any of this makes sense because I like to ramble.

oh and if you'd like to use any of my interpretations in fanworks like art or fic, I'd love to see it :)

#l4d #l4d2 #left 4 dead #left 4 dead 2 #jrrrambles #not gonna tag any characters #because I mention a ton #and I don't think the Slaters have tags #i spent way too much time on this </3

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paper-cloud · 3 years

Text

i. the crushing weight of what happens next

part of "(there will be a) tomorrow"

fandom: prospect (2018) characters: ezra, cee rating: T words count: ~3K context: post-canon general warnings/tags: see series masterlist warnings/tags for this chapter: ezra's pov. angst. not graphic descriptions of wounds, blood and amputated limbs. mentions of minor characters' death. (probably very) inaccurate but anyways vague descriptions of medical treatments and post-anesthesia symptoms. taglist: @ravensmutty @buttercup--bee @thegreenkid (again, thank you all for your interest and encouragement! :3) @krissology @ezrasarm @bonktime (please forgive my nerve, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you'll explicitly ask me to! just thought about someone else who might be interested and you guys are AMAZINGLY talented and inspiring "prospect"/ezra writers. it's not my intention to waste precious moments of your time! 🤡

[SERIES MASTERLIST] [MAIN MASTERLIST]

He'd have thought it was almost ironic – opening his eyes to the light only to see nothing. To feel pain.

He'd have laughed about it, most likely. A bit later, he'd have acknowledged it was a reasonably fair compromise; for him and any other wretch that'd ever dared play dice with darkness and miraculously made it out alive.

And in the very end he'd come to laugh at himself, too.

He knows the drill. Someone who trades their own life with the contract of the highest bidder doesn't see the universe in black and white, let alone is in a position to draw the hypothetical line between the two of them.

Must be an even more wicked universe than he's ever cared about, then.

At least, that's where the struggle of opening his eyes made him stumble upon; when a blade of light thrust through that hint of a gap he'd pushed himself to create in the middle, resonating through the dark coils of unconsciousness like a harsh, unforgiving bell.

A skilled mariner over silky rivers of natural redundancy and rapids of professional edges, Ezra is a man who can appreciate a sharp wit when he recognizes one.

That was too much even for him.

Floundering in between a blinding whiteness and a black hole that wasn't even completely black, but permeated by a thick, suffocating haze that filled every ghost haunting his mind with its stench. With the color of diabolically lush leaves.

Forest— spores— poison— death.

It hadn't been enough to let him dangle in apnea above a roaring vortex of lifeless emerald; take him away from the grey flow whose elusiveness he'd come to appreciate more than he'd ever hated to endure its chaos— from the bubble built on the routine series of one last jobs that, in the end, never really were.

There'd been a moment when, from the higher parts of the room, his pupils tumbled down, tripping over a patch of green discreetly lurking in a corner.

He almost threw up.

It had taken him a while to clear out the misty grit clotted in his corneas— focus on white walls, light wood paneling... a harmless seedling in a pot.

He'd breathed heavily, deeply. He sure hadn't got much relief from it. Still, he'd been able to hear its sound, louder than he'd ever heard it before, the musical, cooling mesh of oxygen particles in and out of his lungs almost begging his fingers to be touched.

Oxygen.

Fresh air.

Had he been less sore – less convinced it was just the residual effects of anesthesia pulling pranks on him –, he would have burst out laughing. Even more so if some poor soul of the medical staff nearby would have called for reinforcements from the other side of the space station before storming into his room.

He'd be laughing now, too. The best he can manage is sitting on his bed, leaning his back on the headboard – which is what he's struggling to do right now— and well, sometimes the room lighting still slightly bothers him. Of course, with all the painkillers and antibiotics they've given him, he wouldn't feel like the wound on his stomach is swallowing the entire arsenal of stitches and bandages.

He just wouldn't like her to get the wrong idea.

He blinks several times, like a man who no longer trusts his eyes. How can he, when they're burning like that, in such a different fire from the one from days before – damp and flickering? For reasons he can imagine, she seems to be faltering. Totally beyond his comprehension, he could swear she's smiling at him. Something inside his ribcage creaks oddly, while the curve of his chest arches upward.

"Birdie."

It's just a huff of breath, weak and hoarse, yet scratches his throat all the same, in a way that its walls feel studded with rock spurs. Actually, Ezra doesn't remember talking since they left the Green behind – which, being him, is saying something – and it's like an eternity has passed since their pod docked up there.

The nurse who let her into his room has just left and Cee sinks her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She's still smiling— just the faded shadow of a smile, now that he takes a better look at her.

"How's your wound?"

It sounds a lot less plain than he expected.

She hasn't moved towards him any further, and for now she's not showing any hints at wanting to. In her irises, Ezra recognizes thumping stars and cerulean clouds, all clustered in the black circle cut by the large porthole next to his bed. All before catching the thin mist veiling them. As if she did want to reach those stars, let herself get carried away by those streams of bluish dust, but she had no idea how or what to do there.

He looks down, the borders of the bandages over his abdomen slightly raised under his black short-sleeved tee. He clears his throat.

"S'healin' nicely", he says, with a deliberate lightheartedness that costs him a sharp, bizarre inflection in his voice. He closes his eyes soon after, tilting his head condescendingly. "That's how the nurse feels about it, anyway... S'not like I can feel much more right now."

This reminds him of those vacuous moments between brief, chaotic waking states and delirious dreams. When he'd managed to reconnect some essential key points scattered around in the talks of surgeons and nurses; the weariness he felt from simply gathering he was on a space station due to enter the orbit of Mesos in three cycles and something standard hours. All while his only solid reference point – the only indisputable proof he was still alive – was the sequence of beeps chirped by the medical monitor perched nearby. Constant, not monotonous. Friendly, even. Sometimes, he actually comes to miss it.

"A trust fall to the extreme, I'd guess", he snorts, a sly laugh as weak and heavy as the words trudging out of his mouth. As the whole rest of him.

Whatever answer she's considering, Cee freezes it in a quick purse of her lips – maybe a nod, but for his own good he'd rather be doubtful. Then she starts looking around.

There's a chair under the board firmly anchored to the opposite wall – probably a desk or something he's never needed to test, whatsoever. She grabs it and puts it next to his bed. She sits down, bringing her legs to her chest, squeezing them in her arms.

Waiting for what, Ezra has no idea, and he's afraid she doesn't have any, either.

He doesn't speak, though, nor does he encourage her to do the same. Her pearly gaze roams steadily but unhurriedly from him to somewhere beyond him, her nose buried in the gap between her knees. He studies her carefully, two purple crescents above her cheeks, a few hair strands swinging down her face without her wiping them out. The nights she's slept through haven't been any more peaceful than his.

Trust, he recalls in the meantime.

It sure brings an odd taste to his mouth. Something close to sweaty spacesuits, grimy paths and gone-off ration bars. A single word for two human beings forced to share the same air filter for days; that, and the image of a dead body left to rot miles behind and the desperate commitment not to end up in the same way.

His gaze just happens to trip over his right side, taking in the deflated sleeve over the emptiness that saved his life. When he lifts it back to the girl, meeting her eyes just before they can flutter away, he realizes they were both looking at the same spot. And he realizes something else— something he's already understood, yet not quite.

There is no tube binding them now.

"Why d'you do it?", he mumbles a split second later, almost like somehow the thread of his question has immediately knotted to the one of his previous thought.

He huffs. He shouldn't even have asked her, in all honesty. Seeing her like this, at least he should have put it in another way, danced around it, it's not like he’s never been good at stalling, after all—

"Comin' back", Ezra says instead, and when he swallows, he mainly does it to send his heart back down his throat. If he'd died without being given the last chance to be this straightforward on this matter, he would have probably kicked his ass all the way to the other side.

This time, Cee doesn't avoid his gaze. He shouldn't be surprised by how collected she looks, given the calmness she handled his infected arm with and then told him about when she used to slip into Jata Bhalu carcasses. But he can't help it when he thinks she can't be much older now than what she was then.

He watches her breathing in, wobbling her pupils here and there, seemingly considering his words. She's not afraid, not any more than what she seemed to be when she walked into his room. Maybe she's just better than him at playing pretend – but this, he can't tell whether it's more of a good than a bad thing. Especially for her.

One thing he can tell is that she's not the same girl who pointed a trembling gun at him before running away into the woods. He knows she's not afraid.

He knows...

So is it the hunter's instinct he has to blame if he feels she is?

"Guess I've seen too much death on that forsaken moon to just... turn my back on one I can help– one I can do something about."

If he was standing in front of an entire mountain crumbling down into the ocean, he wouldn't hear its sound. ‘Wouldn't even be the worst he deserves. She did hesitate before adding the last few words, but Ezra refuses to believe she did that because she was afraid of hurting him. He may be a wretch, but not a fool.

Kevva, for a man who's always managed to untwist himself from far tougher situations with the tangles of his tongue alone, he's sure having a deal of trouble – and he wishes he could put all the blame on his current physical condition.

There is no word he doesn't have to weigh carefully now, to prevent it from taking too sharp edges once out of his lips. He may float around it forever. But once he's let her go without saying anything, he'll hardly find the courage to look within himself again, more than after any other job that hardened his hands with calluses and tarnished his eyes with blood.

He doesn't know for sure. In fact, everything he was sure to know – about the turning direction of the universe and the one of the wheels in his head – has already collapsed in front of him, tracing a flaming tail. An unforgiving meteor following a trajectory far beyond his grasp.

He just knows silence scares him, in a way that a wrong word will never do again. It terrifies him. More than as a talkative person, as a castaway on a hostile moon for too many cycles to keep their count – with the only company of a mute. Silence is green; the green of the most poisonous pollen, lethal in his brain just like toxic spores enveloped in his lungs. The green of snake scales ready to stand and scratch his flesh until liquid crimson pours out of it.

And at the end of the day, this is the only fucking thing he can tell himself to know without having his guts churning and chest heaving a beat later.

"Stop looking at me like that."

It's more of an exhausted prayer than an annoyed remark. Ezra blinks, stunned by the sudden return from the shapeless stream of his thoughts.

"Like what?"

"Like you're looking for the words to thank me", Cee settles back into her chair and this time she lets one leg touch the floor, "Tell me you owe me, and you– you're sorry about what you did."

Ezra sniffles. "Would it be bad?"

"No, it—". She closes her eyes for a moment, clenching her jaw. "Just no good", she breathes out, calmer.

And the discordant note in those words conjures up ghosts not yet vague enough for Ezra to be able to tolerate them without something twinging inside him— like a violent flutter of wings. Voices groping their way up ravels of compromises. Damon, deep in the forest. Himself, with the mercenaries in the Queen's Lair. Cee, days before that. After he—

She's right— those words she hasn't said yet, but whose shadow he feels looming every time he catches her wetting her lips.

Some things just can't be split evenly.

"This is not the Green", she states, suddenly more confident but no less exhausted. "If you're going to hang around just because you need to, once we reach Mesos¹ you'd better be on your way."

Ezra doesn't interrupt her. A faded echo starts making its way into his ears. A former prospecting partner, many years ago. An easy job on a forgettable Fringe moon.

Gems don't have an expiration date. Deals do. Strike 'em if you need to, get rid of them as soon as you can. Unless you care to dig a quicker way to your grave.

He didn't pay attention to it, then. He'd thought it was just the empty rhetoric prospectors drop absentmindedly to fill the time between an unrewarding digging and the next. All the more so under the rickety advice of a couple too many.

His eyes still wide open, hands shaky, he merely reciprocated the awkward bottle lift of his partner, whom he didn't know more than the meanders of that quarry. A toast to a faceless future – a nothingness still more reassuring than what was all around and behind them. Not to the darkness of the cave, basically unbreakable if only for the red halo thrown by the twinkles of sharp, sinister Prystines². Not even to the two poor bastards that had set out with them, ending up skewered a few hundred paces behind – one by mistake, the other to return the favor of saving him from the clutches of a furious Aiu³.

Like an idiot.

Several contracts later preventing him from missing a beat in front of similar hiccups, the logic of that statement no longer sounds so absurd to Ezra. Luckily for him, Cee understood it long before him.

"I was just lookin' for the words to tell ya you'll be better off without me—"

Half a truth. Half a heartbeat. After all, she isn't the only one of them who knows how to sell it.

He leans his head back against the headboard, eyes half-closed, a sly grin baring a couple of his upper teeth. It would almost be intimidating, except that the glint hitting them doesn't quite match the dying one in his eyes.

"—But you beat me to it", he finishes, and he sounds like he's about to fall asleep.

He slowly turns his head away, looks through the porthole. His gaze clutches to the passing asteroids outside, distant nebulae spraying the sidereal black with hues of purple, blue, red— then green, again. A climbing plant squeezing him from the inside, discomfort starts creeping on him an inch of his body – what's left of it – at a time.

He doesn't want her to think he's angry at her, and it's the only concrete foothold emerging from the fluid, magmatic chaos in his mind.

How could he be, when she came back to get him?

She didn't have to.

She doesn't have to be here, either...

"I'm sorry", she suddenly blurts out.

He meets her eyes again, a mix of bewilderment and disapproval shading his own. He shakes his head.

"Don't."

"I just—". She starts fiddling with the extra fabric created by the folds of her sweatpants. Then she sighs deeply. "I have no idea what I'm gonna do now."

He snorts. "Not that it's s'pposed to make you feel any better, but... neither do I."

He doesn't have a hazy helmet choking the glimmer in his eyes, an air filter breaking some frequencies in his voice— maybe just those making him sound sincere, while saving those trapping him into the swamp of self-loathing.

He was nothing but honest when he told her the rules of the game on the Green. When he openly admitted he was a killer, and when he assured her he wouldn't trade her for the Sater's Aurelac. And she's always seemed to believe him, maybe for that kind of desperate inertia that washes over people when they need something to cling to. Whatever the case, Ezra can only hope she wants to believe him now. But she doesn't speak, and for a moment his fear of not saying enough overcomes that of crossing her boundaries.

"But w—", he immediately bites his tongue, "—you still have three cycles to figure things out. Someone up here will be able to help you. Even so, please know you'll always have my most sincere gratitude."

The effort of lining up all those words and so few pauses to catch his breath casts a thick fog over his ears. His eyes suddenly hurt again and he finds himself squinting.

What happens next, he just records it, hardly managing to follow each cause-effect relationship. A series of events softly raining on him without making a noise, while he can quite imagine them to be way more prolonged in time. Cee leaning towards the lighting panel on the wall, sliding her finger counterclockwise, and the white coating the walls turning less painfully bright; her getting up, walking away, dwelling just before the door. "I'll come to check on you tomorrow", she says, sniffling.

She tilts her head, holding his gaze in her watery one for an agonizingly slow while – Please, don't ask me why.

He blinks once – Of course.

Then, the automatic door is once again engulfed by the wall, closing behind her with a metallic rustle.

Tomorrow.

His heart is taken by a spiraling jolt that leaves an empty cave behind. When it falls back into place, Ezra finds something has tripped in there, shapeless and quivering like the nucleus of a newborn star.

Hope, terror and everything that lies in between.

___________________

NOTES:

1) Mesos — Invented planet. Its only raison d'être is that "mésos" in Greek means "middle" and my intent was to frame this story in a moment of transition (after those of movies) for both Ezra and Cee. 2) Prystines — Invented kind of crystals. They're implied to be huge, red and very sharp, thus endangering the path through the cave. 3) Aiu — Invented predator, ideally a big feline.

A/N:

Yeah, uhm... at this point, if someone was ever to give me any kind of feedback, constructive criticism or random thought, I think I'd just melt into a puddle for the attention alone. And to all those who came all the way down here, your bravery shall not be forgotten. ♥️✨

In my defense, it's (almost) all P**** P*****'s fault & of his habit of taking orphans under his wing from one planet to another.

I know people in the fandom generally tend to make Ezra and Cee go along straight away after the movie, so this will be a slightly different take on things, I guess... But even if I don't know if I'll keep this series going atm (life & maturity exam suck), a final reconciliation is definitely on the way. ;)

Oh, and any beta reader that should feel like helping me out for when I'll have the next chapters ready is warmly welcomed! My DMs are always open and I swear I don't bite! :3

#prospect (2018)#prospect movie #ezra (prospect)#cee (prospect)#pedro pascal #sophie thatcher #my writing ☁️#geez what tf did i write this so long for?#it's all sadness and insecurities and introspections #hopefully i'll fit more dialogues in for the next ones...#which means kevva help me when i'll have to put my hands on that verbose space rascal's dialogues #i already know i'll ruin him but i really don't want to but he's so fucking intimidating but—#*goes hiding in her cave*

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neptunetheplanet7 · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, slight angst in the beginning but not really, fluff

i owe you guys an apology. i’m not very active on tumblr as of posting. i’m sorry about that. school has been hard on me and i’ve been very stressed. i’ll try to do better in the future :)

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Armin was discharged from the hospital only a day after the accident. The doctor said there was nothing extraordinary to worry about. But of course, even with this information, Eren still made a fuss. That much was clear when he walked through the door with Armin's arm slung over his shoulder.

"I didn't break my leg, Eren. I don't need to use you as a crutch," Armin grumbled as the two walked into the kitchen from the garage. He reached back to shut the door with his free hand.

Eren rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for supporting you in these trying times."

"I don't need your support," they scoffed. He unwrapped his arm and made his way across the room.

Eren gave him the finger, rather aggressively. The gesture wasn't reciprocated since the blond already disappeared into the hallway.

Sucking on a freeze pop, you leaned back against the cool countertop. "Welcome home, lovely. Have fun?"

Eren sighed loudly as he walked toward the freezer and got a popsicle for himself. He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the top of the wrapper off into the trash.

He said sarcastically, "Oh, absolutely I did." He paused and shook his head disapprovingly. "He's a lot bitchier when it's us two. How's it been here?"

You shrugged. "So, so. Pretty quiet."

He nodded and pushed up the pineapple-flavored ice. "Thought so. Jean's gone today, obviously. Is Mikasa here?"

You huffed softly at the mention of her. "I haven't seen her since breakfast. She's been upstairs all day."

He frowned. "Oh, I see. Armin told me about the kiss, by the way. At first, I was gonna make fun of you for passing out but now that just seems cruel."

"You think?" You laughed lightly and rested both arms on the counter.

The sound that followed from him was more of an exhale than a laugh. "Listen, Y/n, even if she's avoiding you right now, I know she'll come around. Just wait and see."

"You're right," you mumbled, sticking the freeze pop in your mouth again. Armin basically said the same thing. Eren sent you a quick smile and patted your shoulder before leaving through the hallway.

You swallowed the remaining ice and threw away the wrapper. Noticing the bin was full, you took the trash to the bigger bin outside. Maybe doing some chores would distract you from Mikasa for a while.

Plus, today was the only day that allowed you to do so. Practices for the band's upcoming performance were every day until the date of it. You'd be rehearsing 24/7 since it was scheduled on such short notice.

It was going to be at a middle school some of your friends went to. The DJ they booked before flaked and your manager was kind enough to offer your talents.

Jean was meeting with Hannes and the school administrators to work out some extra kinks before the practices began.

The only day there wasn't a rehearsal was on Eren's birthday. You all decided it'd be best to take the day off to celebrate and set up for the party that would be happening later in the night.

The day passed easily as you got caught up on chores that weren't done over the past few days. The house was messier than you liked it although it hadn't been long at all since the previous clean-through. However, it had been a hectic week.

Speaking of hectic, when Zeke was there, he sure made himself at home. That much was clear when you made it to the living room portion of the basement.

Eren probably couldn't find time to clean up yet. Either that or he was just lazy because at that moment he was more focused on a pinball machine than the state of his living space.

His brother's suitcases were lying open by the couch. To be honest, you didn't love the idea of a criminal's possessions lying around your home. So, you decided that throwing them in a storage closet was the best option.

When you finished tidying up, you started a game on the pinball machine next to Eren's.

His birthday was in three days. The house looked a lot better than it did when you started, which was perfect for throwing a party. You could only hope it would stay that way.

After a few hours of playing games with him, Jean came down the stairs to let you know he was back from the school. He left when he saw neither of you were interested in what he had to say.

Once it got dark outside, you left Eren to his own devices and went to your own room to chill out some more.

Unfortunately, when you flopped down on your bed, Mikasa started to consume your thoughts again. In an effort to fight them, you turned on a show to distract yourself.

For the slow hours you spent staring at the screen, you couldn't focus, not once. No matter how hard you trained your eyes on the screen, you still thought about her.

Sighing, you got out of bed and walked to your bedroom door. You were careful of the creaking hinges, it was around midnight. Everyone would either be asleep or close to sleeping.

Except for Armin. You had no idea what he did at night but you knew better than to ask. However, he was probably pretty tired from the time spent at the hospital. So, there was a solid chance he actually was asleep.

You crept outside, checking that the front door didn't make too much noise. Your car was parked in the driveway since there was never room in the garage. The gravel underneath your feet made noise as you walked toward it. You pushed yourself onto the hood and leaned back against the windshield.

Drawing in a long breath, you stared up at the sky. You needed to calm down and clear your mind. This would help, as it usually did.

Even if it was a little chilly, it was warm for a night in March, especially this late.

The stress that bubbled inside you simmered down the longer you watched the thin clouds dim the stars.

Any negative thoughts you had about the situation with Mikasa or the previous days seemed to disappear the longer your focus was on the sky.

Gravel crunched and you snapped your gaze toward the noise. Sitting up, you were surprised by what you saw.

Mikasa froze when she realized she'd been caught. She held a white blanket in her arms and still had one foot on the porch steps.

"Hi," she greeted quietly.

"Hey." Your breaths were a tad ragged from the initial scare.

She came closer to the car. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing." You took the blanket from her arms and she pushed herself up to sit beside you.

"The door to your room was open when I came downstairs for a drink. I thought you'd be out here."

"Oh." She knew you better than you thought.

She spread the blanket over both of your laps and leaned down on the hood of the car.

She looked at the sky but your eyes were still on her. "Why did you come out here?"

After a moment of silence, her gaze finally shifted to you. "I wanted to apologize. Ignoring you was immature. Plus, I remember how you used to come out here when you were upset. Above all else, I wanted to make sure you were alright." A blush coated her cheeks when she finished talking.

You took note of that and couldn't help but blush yourself. "I'm okay. I understand why you'd ignore me, though. If you didn't want it, that was probably your only option since we have to see each other so much."

Her brows furrowed and she sat up again. "What? Y/n, did you think I didn't want to kiss you?"

You blinked stupidly. "Well, yeah."

She laughed. "You can be so ridiculous sometimes. I've always wanted to kiss you like that. I'm just not great at expressing it."

Even more heat rushed to your face. You gawked at her and she looked down at her feet. Many things were running wild in your head. For some reason, though, there was one thing that was so prominent in your mind once you remembered it.

Out of all the questions you could have asked, this one came out rather bluntly. "What did you mean in your letter? What should I know?"

Her eyes widened, she didn't expect you to ask about that yet, and quite frankly, neither did you. Nonetheless, she answered anyway. "If only you knew. That's what I wrote. That's easy to answer now. If only you knew how long I've loved you."

She turned her face and made direct eye contact with you. She seemed to know the next question on your mind. "You never knew it but I've been in love with you since high school."

That can't be right. This is a dream. You're dreaming, Y/n. What the actual fuck?

"Are you sure? Then why did you ask Jean out when we were seniors? Why did you break it off with me mere weeks before?" Your mind was racing and it translated into sentences quickly spilling from your lips.

She still looked straight at you. Her facade of confidence was making you nervous. "I'm sure. Back then, I was so afraid of what I felt for you. Pretending the feelings weren't real and projecting them onto Jean seemed like my easiest option. For years I convinced myself I loved him. But it was never him. It was always you. I felt so awful when I realized what I was doing."

And just like that, the facade fell. Her words were no longer held confidence. She was afraid of how you'd react. She had little idea that you were ready to be just as vulnerable as her.

"When did you realize?"

Looking up at the dark sky, she pushed a stray tuft of hair away from her face. She continued, sighing softly before she spoke, "When I saw him that night with Marco, I was relieved that I didn't have to be with him anymore. When I tried to figure out why that was, I could only think about you. Every feeling that scared me before came back. I got so scared that I left. But, even then, they never went away."

You were having some trouble believing that this was actually happening. Mikasa loved you back this entire time. If she hadn't kissed you before, you would've thought this was only possible in your dreams.

However, things were actually starting to make sense. That whole time it was your fault. Every night of those two years you spent wondering about what you could have done to make her stay. It turns out you did enough. You were the reason she left.

But maybe you were the reason she came back as well. You could recall something Jean had told you a day before she came home.

"Why did you come back? You needed to do something?"

She looked back at you again. "I've just done it," she said.

Before you could process her words, she was leaning closer to you. Her lips were so close to brushing yours but she paused before they could fully touch. "Can I?" she whispered.

"You don't even have to ask."

When she kissed you, you felt everything. Her feelings, your feelings. The world was minuscule compared to you two. Anything else meant nothing at that moment.

It was the first time in a long time that you felt fully complete. You were a puzzle and she was the missing piece. It was like before, only this time, you knew for sure what you wanted.

Pulling away, you managed an, "I love you too, Mikasa."

There were no other words that would feel so good to finally say out loud.

Everything was clear. You understood.

Now more than ever, you wanted to be with her.

posted: 9/26/21

no reposts, edits, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

#aot fanfiction #band au #mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa x you #modern au #snk fanfiction #attack on titan

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