#and writing her set of senses is an exercise in creativity that works just as well

[lightdancer1]

This is also why I prefer to write Azula over most characters in Avatar: The Last Airbender

Because writing Azula is harder than writing Zuko or Iroh or most of the other beloved fandom characters. We are talking a person who pulled a Lady Eboshi and shot down her setting's equivalent of capital G God at 14, who got nerfed because the writers wrote themselves in a corner. A character who is presented as one thing, does the exact opposite, and gets treated like she's Warsmith Honsou or Fabius Bile by overgrown children who have never seen an actual human child or had any actual contact with a person of the species Homo sapiens besides their mamas bringing chicken tenders the basement.

Writing a character who's powerful, smart, and seen only through the eyes of others requires more skill than writing Prince Burns Shit When He's Mad struggling through fixing the postwar Fire Nation (I actually really like that kind of story but I ain't wasting the braincells on Prince Chuck Tingle Turtleduck), General Obi Wan Kenobi with tea, or what have you.

Avatars, of course, are an equal or greater challenge and this is why the setting itself has to nerf them because they created a fighting series for kids with a character whose greatest potential is stuff the setting doesn't uh, really bother exploring.

Of course the other character who'd be an actual challenge for an interesting story is Toph, especially when she gets metalbending. Toph is an OP powerhouse who steamrolls pretty much everyone and would be likely to start trouble if there is none for shits and giggles.

#avatar:the last airbender #azula #zuko #iroh #yeah I said it #whaddya gonna do? #cry that your favorite talking drawing got lambasted on the Internet? #log off and touch grass #azula is more interesting and complicated to write than anyone short of the Avatars themselves #The only challenge that comes close is Toph because she's nigh invincible #and writing her set of senses is an exercise in creativity that works just as well

[writingdirectory]

Notes from a 5-day creative writing course:

Motivation

Make it a habit. That way, each time that familiar voice of self-doubt makes its appearance, it’ll be easier to ignore it, because writing will become something that you do-your thing-and you’ll gain confidence in it.

Visit your novel every single day. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to write something every day. You could outline the plot, or write character portraits, or draw a special part of your world. Your subconscious will work on your story even when you don’t. So, each time you visit the story consciously, you’ll find that things have developed in the story.

Manage the time of writing in a way that it is manageable for you. (It can be that one hour between classes or your lunch break or the morning before you go to work or at night before you sleep - Schedule it in a way that suits you and then, be serious about it.

Set a goal. For example, 100 or 500 words a day.

Character Development, Word Choice & Description

At first, characters incarnate ideas. A poor man who wins the lottery, a young boy who travels to a magical land. As we develop the story, they become people - real people with backgrounds and unique choices.

Ways we perceive character: through actions, thoughts (conflict), dialogue, interactions with others.

Bring intentionality to the representation of a character.  Don't give arbitrary information.

How a character reacts is a question of how you want to represent them through all those multiplicities that are dialogue, actions, interactions, etc.

Characters always want something. They are never static. With wants come obstacles and transformation.

Create tension between what a characters thinks, feels and says. For example, set external confidence and internal fear and then change that as the story develops. Characters can also be comfortable or scared depending on the situation.

Explore complexity. How a character talks to their lover is different from how they talk to their friends and family.

Give secondary characters a characteristic beyond their function to make them more prominent.

Make a hierarchy out of characters.

Exercise: Write the portrait of a character, how you would introduce them in the story and a description of them from a character that a) likes them and b) dislikes them.

Word Choice. When it starts sounding like writing, cut it out - Kill your darlings. Example: The car was spotted with rust - shows the car. As opposed to: The car was acned with rust - shows the writing. Sometimes a more refined word works against the object/image.

Description: Don’t just put in details. The details need to be significant for the image you want the reader to see.

Don’t use metaphors and lyricism in the expense of clarity. Be precise. Metaphors and similes should fit the narrative and not distract the reader. For example, saying “He barked like a dog” sounds fine, but if there are no dogs in your world, it is out of place and breaks the narrative. Be specific. Name things. Don’t be vague. Precision grounds your fiction.

Determine if you need static or lively description. Lively description is when you describe things through actions. Like “She passed her fingers through her blond hair”, instead of “Her hair was blond”.

Sense of authenticity. When you describe a place precisely, you gain your reader’s trust. A column is different from a golden column. That kind of attention gives a sense of authority and makes the narrative convincing.

Parts of description: smell, sound, sight, taste, touch, temperature, pressure.

Dialogue & POVs

Dialogue a) informs the character, b) moves the story forward, c) develops relationships between characters.

Dialogue isn’t just about how people talk.

What’s said can suggest what isn’t being said.

Use dialogue interspersed with description and visuals.

Choose the POV that suits your story.

(From David Lodge, ‘The Art of Fiction’.) A fictional story is unlikely to engage our interest unless we know whose story it is. Even with an “omniscient” narrative method, the writer should privilege one or two “points of view”. An objective approach may be a worthy aim in journalism, but not in fiction.

Pros and cons of 1st person POV. Pros: personal and direct, immediacy, intimacy, immediate credibility, easier to build character. Cons: limited, biased, unreliable, writing can become simplistic. When writing in 1st person, keep in mind that characters change, hence their perception changes. That has to be obvious in the narrative.

Pros and cons of 3rd person limited POV. Pros: thoughts can still be on the page, flexibility, wider view of the world, more complex language can be used (usually we think in simple words, so complex writing might sound pretentious and out of place in 1st person POV). Cons: distance (he/she).

GOD MODE. Or, commonly, 3rd person omniscient. You can jump in and out of characters’ minds, but there’s a danger when writing with such freedom. Be aware of structural harmony. Don’t write 10 pages in Sally’s POV and then jump into omniscient.

Use free indirect speech (1st person thoughts in italicized form, eg. No!) to eliminate the distance in 3rd person POVs.

Change POV with reason. Don’t suddenly jump to another POV just because it is interesting. Plan it. Make the change of the POV deliberate and make the reason clear.

Give equal weight to all POVs.  

Setting

The setting of a story is mediated through a character’s experience. It amplifies the theme. It shouldn’t be an arbitrary decision. The setting can make achievements more difficult for characters.

For children, places have magical properties, they are places of significance. The place of someone’s childhood can transform later in the novel, because the character has transformed. There’s a fluidity of meaning attached to places. But keep in mind that, places don’t change. Characters do.

How a character views a place is stated through the language we use.

When writing about a place that exists, have fidelity at the facts.

Editing

Be open to ideas changing.

If it’s not working after 3-4 rewrites, cut it out!

Make sentences active. Things don’t happen to characters. They do things.

Pay attention to rhythm.

Every sentence needs to have a reason to be there.

Usually, we overwrite in dialogue. Use context. Dialogue should be suggestive, rather than explicit.

Edit backwards, because perfectionism kicks in at the beginning.

Isolate. Edit single parts of the story. A chapter, a scene.

Read aloud. It will help find long sentences, pretentious words and unreadable language.

When words become over-familiar, put it down, give it to someone else to read.  

What to look out for: a) Character confusion. Make sure minor characters are introduced properly and find subtle ways to remind your readers who they are. b) Too much exposition. c) Plot holes, inconsistencies - there must rational reasons for coincidences, you must be able to provide logical and credible reasons behind the actions of a character. d) Over-written description.

What to do when editing: cut things out, put new things in, change sentence order and structure, look for repeated words, strengthen verbs (or prune), expand, trim, look for continuity errors, change order of events, introduce a delay in the reveals, rewrite using another POV or tense, determine if each sentence is pulling its weight.

Techniques: a) Prune. Delete text you don’t need. b) Isolate repetitions and delete or substitute with synonyms (look out for pretentious words). c) Cut and paste paragraphs to change order and rearrange. d) write a whole new draft, only looking to the previous one for factual material. e) Use a reader.

Bibliography

Hills Like White Elephants, by Ernest Hemingway (suggestive dialogue)

Concrete Island., by J.J. Ballot (how setting makes goals harder to achieve)

Driving Through Sawmill Towns, by Les Murray (lyricism, setting)

The Art of Fiction, by David Lodge (POV)

The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald

On Writing, by Stephen King

#writing #writing reference #writing tips #writing advice #writers on tumblr #writing resources #writing tip #writing motivation #writing encouragement #writeblr #writblr #creative writing #writing community #writers #world building #point of view #editing #character creation #dialogue #mine.

[herblackabyss]

About • Tag List • Ask • Series Masterlist •

[Title] 7 Dates, 7 Conflicts [Rating & Genre] [M] 18+, strangers to lovers, slow burn, Collage AU [Pairing] Jeon Jungkook x Reader (Amaya Bradford) [Trigger Warnings] a few cuss words

[A/N] I'm baaacckkk~! I apologize for my absence, but I truly struggle with this whole social media and social interaction thing. I had to restructure this part because I've come to the realization that my brain doesn't quite know how to write multiple events into one part...

P.S the last bit is a mess but I'll update it soon...<3

ALSO HAPPY HUNTER DAAYYY!!

[Word Count] 2740

"This is an absolute colossal fucking disaster, Chenle," I hiss under my breath, pacing across my bedroom with my phone clutched tightly to my ear. On the other end, the low hum of my best friend's tired yawn slips through the line, the digital clock on my nightstand casting an ominous glow – 10:47 PM.

I roll my eyes, my frustration lacing into the very syllables of my words. "I mean, how on earth are we even supposed to tackle this if he's out there getting his dick sucked instead of meeting me to work on the assignment?" Veronica had given us a unique homework assignment during our last COMM101 class—a creative pair-building exercise intended to break the ice. It was supposed to be an opportunity for Jungkook and me to explore each other's perspectives and come up with something that was at least halfway decent. Yet, instead of paying even a sliver of attention, Jungkook seemed to be far more interested in sketching bizarre doodles across my meticulously taken lecture notes. Since that fateful Monday morning, I've embarked on a one-woman crusade to pin him down and get him to work on it. But every attempt I make is met with flimsy excuses and empty promises. He's always conveniently "busy" or "tied up with something else." And me? I'm not naive enough to swallow those slippery words whole, not when they spill from his slick, slithering tongue like a practiced dance. As the relentless ticking of the clock emphasizes the looming deadline for my not-so-friendly essay, the harsh reality sets in. I realize that I know next to nothing about this bumbling baboon, except for the fact that he can't seem to keep his... cock out of people's mouths. The idea of crafting an essay detailing his countless escapades with the campus coeds is tempting, but it also feels like a peculiar form of self-inflicted torture. I flop onto my bed, clutching my phone as if it's my only lifeline in this chaotic situation.

"Guess I'll just have to corner him tomorrow," I murmur to myself, feeling a potent mix of determination and resignation settle in my chest like a heavy anchor. I reach out for the worn notebook resting nearby and flip it open, its pages ready to receive my thoughts and ideas for the upcoming project, even if, for now, it's a solo endeavor. After all, if Jungkook insists on making things difficult, I'm more than willing to return the favor. "Key word: 'probably,' but I can't take that risk with Jungkook," I try to speak as calmly as possible, frustration mounting within me. There's no way I can just sit here and hope he comes to his senses. I need to take action. I shouldn't be in this position, having to babysit a grown man when it comes to his academics. I mean, seriously, I'm baffled by his attitude towards this assignment. How on earth is he the top student in the Computer Science department? Does the university randomly select his name from a hat filled with sheets of paper with only his name on them? Or is he secretly paying someone to do his assignments? "But I hope you're right," I concede with a sigh as I wrap up the call and head to bed.

"Jeon!" I shout, my voice slicing through the noisy street, instantly grabbing the attention of curious onlookers. He strides purposefully toward Avery's Bagel Shop, his arm wrapped around the waist of a wavy-haired blonde. Her stunning long legs propel her forward, her eyes locked on him, with hearts practically sparkling in them. As I watch their interaction unfold before me, it becomes painfully evident that this is a heartbreak in the making. Jungkook, of all people, isn't exactly renowned for his ability to commit, and that's common knowledge around campus. He cycles through new romantic interests every week, and he's openly professed his disinterest in love on countless occasions. Yet, here she is, hopelessly falling for him—poor thing.

I raise my voice, frustration bubbling within me as I call out to him once more. But he remains utterly indifferent, his gaze fixed solely on the entrance of the quaint, inviting eatery. With a graceful sweep, he swings the door open, his hand tenderly resting on her lower back as he ushers his companion inside. I can't help but let out an exasperated sigh, my impatience growing by the second. I shake my head in disbelief before navigating my way across the bustling street. What the fuck is his problem? Stepping through the gleaming silver double doors, I make my way to the established ordering queue. Contrary to any wild ideas he might be concocting in his thick skull, I'm not here because of him. I wanted to get some work done on a few of my assignments before making my way to Chenle's place. Avery's holds a special place in my heart— it's been my favorite spot to grab a bite and study for years. Avery, the owner, is a culinary virtuoso in her mid-thirties, a mastermind behind a medley of bagel creations that are nothing short of life-altering. Over time, she's expanded her menu to include other breakfast and lunch delights, all of which keep people coming back for more.I became a regular of Avery's in her food truck era. Back then, she operated her modest business right in the heart of the city, serving her delectable creations from a weathered, banged-up red truck.Since then, I haven't looked back, it feels like I've gained a good friend and a great place to study when I need to. "Are you planning to ignore me for the rest of your life?" I say, my voice filled with frustration as I approach Jungkook. He's engrossed in a conversation with the blonde, oblivious to my approach. It amuses me how much effort he invests in girls he never intends to pursue beyond a casual fling. I mean, what's the point of all this when there are no intentions of going any further?

I watch as he slowly turns his head to identify the source of the voice. When he realizes it's me, his expression shifts, but he doesn't reply. The blonde clinging to his arm shoots me a nasty glare, clearly annoyed that I've interrupted their conversation. It's even more amusing to me that there are girls who willingly put themselves in such situations with guys like Jungkook, thinking they can be the ones to change them. "The assignment is due in just four days, Jeon, and I haven't even started because of you," I huff, frustration gnawing at me as I rummage through my bag to find my purse. Earlier, he had told me he had important matters to attend to today, which was why he couldn't meet with me. When I proposed meeting later in the day, he promptly shot down the idea, insisting he didn't have the time. So you can imagine my surprise when I spotted him with his little date. Emerging from the depths of my bag with my purse in hand, I shift my gaze toward him, awaiting his response. But there's nothing. No glimmer of recognition in his eyes, no hint of acknowledgment. He just stands there, unmoving, as if I'm invisible.

Is he really going to stand there and ignore me like a petulant child

I exhale a deep sigh, my eyes narrowing as I focus on the back of his head, frustration bubbling up inside me like a simmering volcano. A million wicked scenarios play out in my mind, each one more devious than the last, all focused on how I could effectively sabotage his date.

A mischievous thought dances through my mind. What if I were to swing my bag, aiming it at that unsuspecting, utterly useless head of his? And just for good measure, I could give his blonde friend a forcefully playful shove, a move that would surely knock her on her ass.

Or perhaps... A sly smirk gradually creeps across my face as a more subtle, yet equally potent, idea blossoms in my mind. It's nothing too extravagant, but I have complete confidence that it will work like a charm.

As I stand here, contemplating my revenge plot, I can't help but notice that the queue opposite the one I'm currently in has emptied out. Without missing a beat, I smoothly slide into that vacancy, feeling a rush of anticipation building within me. My eyes immediately fixate on the illuminated board behind the cashier's head. I tilt my head to the side, carefully examining my options before allowing my gaze to shift to Jungkook, whose irritated expression is now in plain view.

As I observe, a smug grin slowly creeps across my face. I can't help but revel in the satisfaction that washes over me as I witness the subtle twitch in his furrowed brow and the rhythmic clenching of his jaw. The tension practically oozes from his pores, an electrifying aura that I can almost taste. After all, he doesn't deserve to have a good day, not after all those lies he's been feeding me these past few days. I'm in absolute awe of his extraordinary ability to seemingly disregard my very presence. My eyes meticulously track his every move, from the way he confidently places orders for both himself and his date, to the charming, heart-melting smile he offers her and with a delicate touch, he tucks a strand of her golden locks behind her ear. It's almost as if the world revolves around them, and everyone else in the room merely fades into the background. I watch, captivated, as he tenderly grasps her hand, guiding her with a gentle assurance toward a cozy booth nestled in a secluded corner of the establishment. They settle in, their bodies so close that their shoulders brush against each other, creating an aura of intimacy that's impossible to ignore. Their conversation flows effortlessly, brimming with laughter and whispered sweet nothings. I have to admit, this guy knows exactly what to do to make a girl feel special.

A simmer of irritation bubbles beneath my skin, while amusement dances at the edges of my thoughts. Jungkook, so blissfully unaware of just how persistent I can be and utterly clueless about my insatiable appetite for pettiness, continues to test my tolerance for his behavior daily. What he doesn't know is that I've always been known for my excellence in theatrics, and quite frankly, if Jungkook wants to put on a performance, I'll give him a whole damn show.

As soon as I place my order, I waste not a single second in moving toward my target. I stride with unwavering purpose toward their booth, my head held high, my hips swaying seductively as I saunter across the room. A mischievous glint flickers in my eyes as I gracefully slide into the seat right beside him, his murderous glare meeting my unflinching gaze.

I respond with a sickeningly sweet smile, my voice dripping with a teasing tone, my eyes twinkling with faux longing. "I haven't seen you since Monday, Jeon. I really missed you," I say, letting a pout form on my plump lips as I lean in closer to him. My gaze shifts to his date as I rest my head on his shoulder. "Who's this, Kook?" I mumble, deliberately ignoring the way his fists clench between us. I'm fully aware that my intrusion on his little date will undoubtedly annoy the ever-loving shit out of him.

He exchanges a quick, awkward glance with his date, who appears thoroughly confused and uncomfortable with my sudden presence. I release a sigh, my gaze carefully assessing her features. "My replacement, perhaps?" I ask, shifting my attention back to him. I catch that split-second flicker of surprise on his face – he clearly didn't expect me to say that. "Amaya," he warns, his demeanor growing stern as he clenches his jaw, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. But if I'm completely honest, I've never been one to heed warnings; Chenle always claimed that it would take a miracle worker to handle my attitude. "I'm Amaya, by the way. You?" My focus shifts to her.

"Kiarra," she whispers, her voice barely audible, and I notice her eyes closely following my fingers as they delicately trace the contours of Jungkook's exposed neck. Her lips curl into a condescending smile as she shifts to the seat opposite ours. Girls like Kiarra, the quintessential "it" girl, always seem to gravitate towards guys like my insufferable group member.

To be honest, I've got her type down pat. Her shallowness cuts through the layers of designer labels and caked-on makeup. She gives off vibes of someone who places an exorbitant amount of importance on her position within the social hierarchy, evident in the meticulous effort she pours into her appearance.

She's undoubtedly frequented the finest surgeons, splurged on the most lavish clothes, and surrounds herself with a clique of girls who are both beautiful and, well, rather uninteresting. "So, how did you end up meeting my favorite boy?" I ask, a gentle smile gracing my lips, my head still comfortably nestled on his shoulder, my gaze locked onto her as we engage in this unspoken standoff. She's challenging me for control of the situation. "We met at Jimin's party last week," she responds with a manufactured smile, her impeccably white teeth on full display. However, I can discern the underlying annoyance in her eyes, even through her facade.

"Jimin's party," I inquire, my brows furrowing in faux hurt, pretending to be genuinely surprised as I maintain that delicate touch along Jungkook's collarbone. My fingers trace a slow, teasing path, eliciting a subtle shiver from him. "I'm hurt, Kookie. You told me you were too busy," I pout, my tone dripping with feigned disappointment. I shift my gaze to Jungkook, my eyes wide and glistening, attempting to make it appear as if I'm truly saddened by his recent evasiveness.

Kiarra, caught off guard by my interaction with Jungkook, shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She clears her throat, her irritation growing the longer I linger. "Well, I guess he had some free time after all," she retorts, her voice laced with hostility. The cracks in little miss perfect's facade are becoming more apparent, and I can practically feel the tension radiating off Jungkook in waves. He's obviously annoyed by my intrusion, but by the look on his face, you could never tell well aside from his clenched jaw. "Amaya, what are you doing?" His deep voice carries a warning as he slowly turns his head to look down at me, his dark eyes fixed on mine.

I maintain my act, tilting my head ever so slightly to meet his gaze, a playful smile dancing on my lips. "I mean, I have to get your attention somehow, right?" I respond, my voice brimming with faux innocence. Leaning in a little closer, my lips hover dangerously close to his ear, and I whisper, "Besides, it's been weeks, and you've been so absorbed in... other endeavors." I punctuate my statement with a sly wink.

Kiarra's perfectly manicured nails clench onto the edge of her designer bag as she observes our little spectacle, clearly flustered.

Drawing even nearer to Jungkook, my lips graze his ear as I murmur, "You know, we do make quite the convincing pair, don't you think?" My words are laced with just enough mischief to set him on edge, and I can see the gears turning in his head as he contemplates how to navigate this unexpected scenario. "Excuse me," she mutters, abruptly pushing her chair back and rising to her feet. Her frustration is palpable in her tone.

"Leaving so soon?" I inquire, my voice dripping with feigned concern.

Jungkook attempts to intervene, but Kiarra is already making her way toward the exit. "Kiarra, wait," he pleads, reaching out for her, but she brushes past him without a second glance.

With a theatrical sigh, I rest my head on Jungkook's shoulder once more. "Well, that didn't go as planned, did it?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes, a hint of amusement twinkling in his gaze. "You're un-fucking-believable."

I flash him a mischievous grin, my façade dropping as Kiarra departs. "Just rescuing you from a bad date, Kookie," I remark with a wink. "And reminding you that you can't keep avoiding our assignment forever." With a satisfied hum, I smoothly slide out of the booth and stride toward the exit, shooting him a playful wink before making my way to Chenle's place.

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#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fiction #jungkook smut #bts fanfction #bts fic #bts smut

[thehaemanthus]

Delectable (Part 3)

The final part of the ACOTAR Writing Circle! Thank you once again to @azrielshadowssing for organizing such a fun event. Really made me exercise some dusty creative muscles, haha. 

This was the first time I’ve written Gwynriel! Hope it came out okay. 

Part 1, written by @hlizr50

Part 2, written by @violet-shadows​

Summary: “Gwyn meets a tall, snarky, unfairly gorgeous man working in a bakery. The owner seems possessive of him, but his sights are set firmly on the sassy redhead who won’t even tell him her name.”

Gwyn slowly rotated her wine glass. The bright glare of Azriel’s kitchen lights refracted off the glass and surface of the liquid in interesting ways. She stared at it like the wine was the most interesting thing in the room.

Not the bomb she just dropped.

“We don’t have to talk about it—”

“It was going to come up at some point.” Not just what happened to Catrin, but what had happened to her.

Azriel may have said there were no expectations, he might have been nothing but respectful, but Gwyn knew better. No one invites their date to their house or sends them heated looks if they don’t want them. He was, very respectfully, leaving the door open. Gwyn wanted to walk through.

But she couldn’t do that before she explained.

“Done eating?”

Azriel seemed determined to swivel away from the subject. Five minutes ago Gwyn would have said she wasn’t quite done, but her appetite fled. She nodded.

“Good,” he stood. “Come help me clean up, and we’ll talk.”

Gwyn bit her tongue to keep from blurting out a shocked “what?” So the man wanted her to help out with dishes. It was fair, since he cooked. Though, coming from someone who tried to pay for every date, it was unexpected.

When they were both in front of the skin, soapy sponge in Gwyn’s hand, Azriel spoke again. “We’ll do the dishes, keep our hands busy, and talk. If you want. As much as you want.”

She blinked furiously. Azriel had sensed that she had wanted to talk, but that it would be hard. This gave them something else to do, something to focus on. Doing the dishes was just mindless enough to do the trick.

“It was five years ago,” Gwyn started. “Catrin and I…”

“Catrin,” Azriel picked up where she trailed off. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“...yeah,” Gwyn murmured, scrubbing at a plate. “She was…she was my best friend.”

“So you were the type of twins who were close?”

“Hmm,” Gwyn hummed. Close all their lives. Close even when… “I was with her when she died.”

The kitchen was silent, save for the whoosh of the water from the faucet. It lasted for a couple of seconds before Azriel reached out and shut it off. “You were with your sister when she was murdered?”

“Keep rinsing,” Gwyn ordered.

Azriel turned the water back on.

She took a deep breath. Opened her mouth and nothing came out. Tried again. “I don’t know how to explain this.”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

Gwyn paused her halfhearted scrubbing. Azriel was already looking at her, face grave and resolute.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, then we won’t. I’ll finish the dishes while you get the ice cream from the fridge and heat up some salted caramel brownies. Then we’ll sit on the coach and watch whatever movie you want.”

The door was open. She just had to be brave enough to step through it. And when Azriel was on the other side— kind, sincere, beautiful Azriel— well, he made it a little easier to step forward.

“I want to tell you,” she decided. “It might be hard though. And…it might ruin the salted caramel brownies and ice cream plan that you have.”

“You mean I didn’t already ruin the night with my insensitive question?” Azriel smiled, then resumed rinsing.

Taking her cues from him, Gwyn picked up a wine glass. Then she spoke. “We were out late, walking home together. It was…someone else might say we’re stupid, but we grew up in that area, and…”

“Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault,” Azriel said. “Only an asshole would blame your decisions for…whatever happened.”

Gwyn glanced at him. His side profile was carefully blank. “You’ve guessed.”

“I have an inkling.” If she wasn’t paying attention, if she didn’t know him so well (when did she get to know him so well?), she wouldn’t have been able to spot the cold anger.

Anger in other men usually sent her running the other direction. And yes, something did ping in the back of her mind, but it was easy enough to brush aside.

The unspoken lingered in the air between them, like the secret had been torn from Gwyn’s throat. With it out in the open, it was easier to continue the story.

“It was three men. They had knives. I…I was petrified. At some point I just—” Her voice broke. She froze for a moment, then resumed washing the dishes. Next up was a pan. Almost done. “I froze. Catrin didn’t. She was stronger than I was, but that meant…they had knives. And um…”

“It’s okay,” Azriel murmured.

She nodded quickly, breathing through the tightness in her throat. “I didn’t see it. At some point they got up and ran away, and I don’t know how long I just…I just lay there. Then I looked at Catrin and she was—”

The pan in her hands slipped, but Azriel caught it. Gwyn set the sponge aside, her damp hands clutching the counter. “She was dead. I screamed, and someone found us a minute later. Catrin died in seconds. The bastard held a knife to her neck and she died choking on her own blood.”

That’s what the medical examiner had said. They pieced the story together based off of the physical evidence and the one guilty plea from the trio. They hadn’t meant to kill. Just violate Gwyn and Catrin.

“I was a mess after that,” Gwyn continued the story, pushing back the anguish, the injustice of it all. “I was close to graduating, I had all these ideas. But I never finished school, and my part time gig became a full time job.”

Azriel finished rinsing and shut off the faucet. The silence was oppressive.

“Thank you for telling me.” He reached out, only just slow enough for Gwyn to be able to push him back but not so slow as to be awkward. His warm, dry hands engulfed her damp ones. He made a face, then snatched a kitchen towel and gently patted her fingers dry. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

“I really like you.” Gwyn watched as he slowly dried her hands, treating them like they were made of glass. “And I want to…I want to be with you. I want to kiss you and touch you and have sex with you. It just might be harder for me.”

Azriel squeezed her hands. “We all have scars, Gwyn.”

Still staring at their hands, it was obvious what Azriel was talking about. She had not asked nor commented on the scarred skin. Accidents happen, and when she first saw Azriel he was working in a bakery. So obviously he must have some burns.

“It happened when I was a kid.”

“You don't—” Gwyn fumbled. “Don’t make it a…a trade or something. I told you because I wanted to, don’t feel like you have to explain.”

Azriel nodded gravely. “And if I want to?”

“I think we should get the ice cream out so we have something to look forward to after the depressing conversations.” Gwyn tried for a smile, but it probably looked more pained than happy.

He mercifully didn’t comment. “I like the way you think.”

Ice cream sitting on the counter, brownies ready to be warmed, they retreated to his living room. Gwyn found herself sitting crossed-legged on the couch, facing Azriel. Unconsciously, they linked hands again.

She liked this. She liked having something to hold onto, having something else to occupy her focus when the tough conversations needed to happen.

“I’ll tell you the short version,” Azriel began. “That’s not because I don’t…trust you. But it’s a lot for one evening.”

“Whatever you want to tell me is fine.” She was less eloquent in her reassurance than he was.

“I…was an illegitimate child. I was raised by my father, who had a wife and two sons when I was born.” Azriel began. “Unsurprisingly, my stepmother wasn’t kind. Her attitude towards me influenced how my stepbrothers treated me. They were bullies.”

Gwyn wanted to say something, but any words wouldn’t be enough. And this was only the start of the story. She had a feeling she would be horrified soon.

“I still wanted to fit in with them though,” Azriel grinned ruefully. “I was a kid. I didn’t know better. So when they wanted to play, I would tag along even though all they wanted was someone to be cruel to.”

Indignation exploded. “Your father didn’t do anything?”

“He turned a blind eye,” Azriel shrugged. “One day, we were playing in the backyard. We were young boys, and setting shit on fire seemed like a great way to pass the time. One of my stepbrothers found lighter fluid in the garage. That started the fire. Then they tried to burn things. It was…fuck, I don’t even remember what it was. But something wasn’t burning, so they told me to hold it while they doused it in lighter fluid. Some spark must have caught.”

“And you were holding it in your hands.” Gwyn felt sick. “And they had poured lighter fluid…”

“My stepmother was home and heard the screams,” Azriel swallowed roughly. “Could have been passed off as an accident. But Child Protective Services got involved, and…I ended up in foster care not long after.”

“I…” Gwyn was speechless. “That’s…”

“I’m obviously not glad it happened,” Azriel cleared his throat. “But it did set me on a path to meeting Rhys and Cassian. I was hurt by two brothers, but I gained two others.”

“That’s a nice way to think about it,” she said weakly.

“So, yeah,” he finished awkwardly. “We all have our scars.”

“Thank you for sharing,” she repeated what he said.

Azriel smiled at her, and her heartbeat stumbled a bit. Damn, in all of the dreariness of the evening she had almost forgotten that an incredibly handsome man was sitting across from her, holding her hands, smiling at her.

“You know what would make us feel better?” Gwyn leaned forward conspiratorially

Azriel mirrored her, his face coming perilously close. “Ice cream and brownies?”

In answer, Gwyn pecked him quickly before bounding off of the couch. “Where do you keep your bowls?”

He laughed as he joined her, retrieving the bowls and ice cream scoop and not making a comment when Gwyn added two large pieces of brownie to her bowl.

Hours later, the room was lit only but the glow of the forgotten movie. Ice cream and chocolate and caramel turned sticky in the empty bowls on the coffee table. The sound from the TV was muted, so all Gwyn could hear were her faint gasps, his murmurs, their soft hums of pleasure.

“Do you want to stay the night?” He mumbled against her collar bone.

Gwyn hummed, much too focused on all of the hot skin available to her wandering hands. Their shirts were discarded, though her bra stayed on for now.

“Gwyn?” Azriel nipped at her.

“I don’t know,” she said as her brain struggled to catch up. “What would I wear?”

“One of my shirts would be like a dress on you.”

“A short dress.”

“And?”

She giggled, a girlish happy sound that she didn’t know she could still make.

Azriel paused in his exploration of her decolletage. “So? Will you stay?”

Unreasonably, anxiety made her falter. Azriel must have read something on her face, because he opened her mouth and immediately leaned back. But before he could do something stupid like apologize, Gwyn clumisly leaned forward to kiss him.

“I’ll stay,” she murmured against his lips. “I want to stay.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to stay,” she repeated. “I want to stay and wear your shirt to bed. I want you to kiss me and touch me more, though…I don’t know how much.”

“I’m just happy you’re staying the night,” Azriel nuzzled her neck. “Everything else is a bonus.”

“Yeah?” she said, a little breathless. Goddamn, he was barely touching her and already she was losing her mind.

“Yeah,” Azriel said. “I bought chocolate muffins and a half gallon of milk for your breakfast, and if you didn’t stay it would go to waste because I’m not a child who just drinks a glass of plain milk.”

“Hey!” Gwyn pinched his side, then was unceremoniously dumped on the couch. Azriel stood and then pulled her up. She figured they were going to clean up, but after turning off the TV and tossing the remote on the couch, Azriel kissed her again, picked her up, and walked down the hall.

“The bowls—”

“Can be washed in the morning,” Azriel growled.

Then they were in his room, cool sheets against her back, a hot body on top of her—

And in that moment, Gwyn couldn’t say how far she would be comfortable going, or even what she wanted. But she found that she didn’t care.

There was a man with her, who liked her, who she liked too, and that was okay. He didn’t make all hurts go away, he wouldn’t magically overcome all of her boundaries. But Azriel had already sped through a few, and was well on his way to claiming her heart.

#acotarwritingcircle #acotar fanfiction #gwynriel

[erthlyheavn]

THE MAJOR ARCANA

@diadxrling said: [THE SUN] and [JUDGMENT] for the secretaries

[THE SUN] - What makes them feel good? This can be happy, energized, revitalized, etc. It's all about good vibes, so what gives them to your muse?

Money. No, but seriously, Ava is a very materialistic person and the one thing that always makes her feel better, without fail, is spending her money on herself. She's worth it after all.

Bonnie always feels better after a tough workout session. She's health-conscious and finds time to exercise every day not only to keep in shape, but because she genuinely likes it.

After Candy gets home from work after a particularly long day is curl up on the couch with her queef, Coco, and watch trashy television. But what helps makes her feel good is taking the time for some self-care. She has lots of DIY "self-care" packages stored away to one she can take a day to pamper herself and it does help make her feel refreshed.

Evelyn feels most at peace when she's working on an art project. It gives her a sense of purpose and allows her creativity to flow. She's happiest when she's alone in her room with an easel in front of her and palette of paint beside her.

For Gloria, it's watching films. While her favorite genre are mysteries and or thrillers, she will watch other films if they capture her interest and that includes modern ones. She does like to set aside nights on the weekends to go to the cinema and catch the latest flick that isn't porn yftdkkdttddtk

Pretty much a combination of shopping, getting likes and compliments on her selfies, pampering herself, etc. Basically anything that has to do with having people just acknowledge her and stroke her ego makes her happy lol.

What makes Rosette happiest is spending quality time with her children. She spends so many hours of the day (and sometimes nights) at the hospital that she rarely ever sees her kids. But there are days she just wants some downtime to herself. During which, she likes to curl with a good book and hot cocoa and spend the day as leisurely as possible.

[JUDGMENT] - What was an epiphany/awakening they recently had? Did they realize something that they've been naive to? Did they discover something about themselves? What happened?

She recently discovered that she isn't as much of a frigid bitch as she likes to believe she is. She'll claim that she only thing she cares about is money but she has grown to care about one of the other secretaries to the point she is a little protective of her.

Bonnie has finally accepted that it's perfectly okay for her to dress femininely or be femme-presenting whenever she feels like it. Even if she feels that people don't expect it from her. Yeah, she likes her pantsuits that make her feel handsome, but sometimes, she just wants to wear a really pretty dress and put on makeup even though she feels like she doesn't have the body-type for it.

Candy is currently in the process of realizing that sometimes she does need a break from well...Everything and that's it okay to take some time for herself. She's not a machine and she deserves time to recuperate.

Evelyn is starting to look back at her childhood and wonder if her adoptive parents actually see her as a daughter....or a glorified pet. She's beginning to realize that her parents pretty much controlled every aspect of her life since her adoption and they still try to control her life through her adulthood. She's still trying to process it.

That everything was rigged against her from the start. She came to Hollywood to write films and be acknowledged for her work, but she realized that day was never going to come. Even if her screenplay got made into a film she was never going to get credit for her hard work. Life isn't fair and neither is the afterlife apparently. She's gotten used to it by now.

She's known it deep down for a long time but she's just recently come to terms with the fact that her family just straight up does not give a fuck about her. She's tried so hard to get their attention in any way possible and it just. Never worked. Now, she's getting the attention she craves through social media and whatever other ways she can.

#❖ᴘᴀʏ ɴᴏ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀᴛᴀɪɴ: ᴏᴏᴄ #❖ᴀꜱᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴀʟʟ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇ: ᴀꜱᴋꜱ #❖ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ: ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ #🦈ꜱʜᴀʀᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ: ᴀᴠᴀ; ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ #💪ɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ; ɪ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴅᴇᴍᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ: ʙᴏɴɴɪᴇ; ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ #🍬ɪ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ; ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ: ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ #🎨ꜱʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴀɴ ᴜᴘᴛᴏᴡɴ ɢɪʀʟ; ꜱʜᴇ’ꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʟɪᴠɪɴ’ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴜᴘᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ: ᴇᴠᴇʟʏɴ; ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ #🎬ʟᴇꜰᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ: ɢʟᴏʀɪᴀ; ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ #📱ᴀʟʟ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ: ɪɴᴠɪᴅɪᴀ; ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ #🩺ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ: ʀᴏꜱᴇᴛᴛᴇ; ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ #diadxrling

[ahiddenpath]

For the ask the fic writer meme!

3, 4, 24, and 26!

Hi Sloane, thanks for the ask <3 Answered beneath the cut :D

3.) Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

I have a neat writing process post here! It basically goes like this:

-Idea dump, mostly focusing on themes, where characters are now vs where I want them to be, what everyone is feeling/struggling with, etc

-Several drafts

Check the post out if you're interested, I included the entire process for a chapter of PdA with PDFs of the idea dump and drafts.

4.) Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

I hope this doesn't sound too weird, but I'm not a big... Fan of? Believer in??? Inspiration. Ideas are a dime a dozen, and everything has been done before. What matters is the execution, which requires showing up and doing the work reliably- and never waiting for lightning to strike with ideas or a certain mood/desire to create.

Yes, I'm painfully aware that I'm the least exciting human ever, lol!

Generally, my issue is deciding which of an endless pile of concepts to work on. Once I've done that, the concern is effective project management. How do I see this new concept to its completion in a (hopefully) reasonable amount of time?

Allocating finite time is probably the most challenging part of life in general!

24.) Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

Ohhh man, this one is really fun!

My blissfully naïve fourteen-year-old self made the mistake of printing the first few chapters of my novel in progress and taking them to high school, where I showed them to my friends. I received an absolute cacophony of feedback that ranged from strange to mean, but most of it was simply... People projecting the story they wanted onto the story I was writing for myself.

The bit I remember today concerned my main character. She was young and had lived a physically pampered but emotionally neglected life. Circumstances sent her on a journey, and she chose a calm, sensible horse as her mount. And though she had only ridden in leisurely group settings, a friend insisted that... Um, well, if I didn't plonk her onto a stallion that no one else could control, I was bowing to the patriarchy. Yes, my friend wanted a horse girl story, lmao!!!

Joking aside, exploring strength in women and girls is the most resounding theme of my writing. I'm not looking down on the badass woman character type, but I am keen to show that there are so many kinds of strength. Obviously this is true for everyone, but women are so often neglected in entertainment, and their stories are the ones I most want to tell.

What I'm getting at here is that you should never mistake someone else's preferences for meaningful criticism/advice. The ability to deliver meaningful writing criticism is learned, and not many people are trained in it. Most audiences regurgitate their own preferences when asked, and that has nothing to do with your story.

If that sort of dialogue interests you, pursue it! But I'm generally wary of seeking criticism unless I have some sense of the person's literary background and how they engage with media.

26.) Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Hahaha, in terms of writing it? Probably Voices. Voices was a year-long exercise in developing character voice. I followed the six oldest Chosen and Eimi through a Japanese school year, writing a journal entry from one of the kids every day. EVERY DAY. FOR A YEAR. A JOURNAL ENTRY.

I leaned heavily on tropes because there was no time to plan, lol! I flew by the seat of my pants for a whole danged year!!!! In a lot of ways, it's my least favorite fic, because there was just no time! But it was a huge challenge, and frankly, audiences love tropes. It was popular with a lot of my readers. It's also probably one of my more shippy offerings?

Seeking Resonance is a stand out for me in the sense that it took me three years to nail the climax and decide how I wanted the last 20% of the story to wind down. THREE YEARS of thinking and exploring and simmering! But I genuinely could not have made a product I was happy with without quietly tending to it. Honestly, sometimes I think we need to... I don't know, grow or learn something or experience something??? Before we can be where the story needs us to be, as a person.

Oh, but that doesn't mean we should wait to start the story! The three years of thinking on it were definitely work and part of the process.

So You Were Alive was an interesting one in that I sat down and wrote the whole dang thing in under two hours. Like, within two hours of starting, it was published, with all the images and everything. At the time, the Kizuna feels were strong. The imagery and some of the dialogue from the first reboot episodes fed right into the Kizuna feels, and before I knew it, I was clicking the publish button!

Note that none of these are my favorite or best fics, in my opinion. But they are standouts in regards to the process.

Thank you so much, this was fun!

#ask games #ask hidden

[seriouslysam8]

Hi,

Ok so first of all, I love your works! I really enjoy reading them and I am excited for the next chapter of Brumous (Harry is adorable in this story). I really liked Backstabber too, especially the interactions between Harry and Sirius, but mostly because you portrayed the marauders in a very realistic way. Sorry that I did not comment on most of your stories, I always overthink what I want to say than get anxious and I just avoid commenting as a result.

Ok so here’s my question; how are you able to put the idea/story that is in your head on paper? I have so many ideas of fics in my head and I just can’t put it into words (or when I do I just cringe at myself). So yeah, how do you do it?

Bye😁

(I am so awkward🙈)

First of all, don’t ever feel awkward with me. I’m very socially awkward and I have sky high social anxiety. Sometimes I get sent asks that literally paralyze me with fear because I don’t know how to answer them. Or, for example, I’m super anxious about chapter four on Sunday because there’s one scene where I think people might think it is awful and OOC and I’ve written it about five times but Bell assures me it’s fine and a good scene. Please, just go read my amazing dorky responses to some reviews on AO3 where I legit just scream excitement at some reviewers. Though, normally, my cap locks are reserved for reviewers who I recognize and review repeatedly because I think they understand I’m a legit crazy person by this point.

Second of all, I’m so glad to hear you love my stories! Backstabber got some love! Yay!! That makes me really happy.

To answer your question, I think a lot about a story. Like a lot a lot. I reply scenes in my head. I plot out the entire story in my head. I don’t think that’s a normal process at all. I know a lot of people use flow charts or spread sheets to help them plan. I’ve just always been more… mental about it. Anytime I try to plot with charts, I get bored.

I also took a lot of creative writing courses in high school and college. They’re useful for the exercises they provide and a more technical aspect of creative writing. It helped me realize what parts of a story are needed. But more importantly, it just gave me practice messing around with different prompts and settings and situations.

My best advice. Just write. Anything. Everything. Just picture the scene in your head and write the words down on paper. Even if at first it’s not creative, just write it. The more you write, the easier it becomes. Then, go back and evoke the senses. If you’re in a third person limited POV, which is what I prefer to write in, then describe what the character sees, feels, hears, touches. What’s important in that scene that the narrator senses that the reader needs to sense. Realize, your narrator in this POV doesn’t know everything. They may lead the reader wrong or contradict things the reader knows because they haven’t learned it yet themselves. Or maybe they are talking to another character and they say the wrong information. It’s important to just get inside a characters head. Know what they know and feel what they feel.

If you’re new to writing, I’d pick one main character. Don’t do what I do and switch POVs. You need to have distinctive voices for all of them. A trick I use is that I pull up a character chart of Harry when I’m writing Harry. Then I pull up my word document. I can see Harry’s picture out of the corner of my eye as I write which helps me visualize writing as Harry. When I switch to Ginny, I pull up Ginny’s character chart and I see her picture out of the corner of my eye. It helps me focus on who I am writing and hone in on their personality.

But, honestly, it’s all trial and error. What works for you and what doesn’t. You’ll figure out your strengths and your weaknesses. I mean, I’m totally embarrassed by Cronus Rising so much that I deleted it off every single site because I saw how terrible my writing was back then. I cringe anytime someone brings it up to me. But let me tell you, you never get better if you don’t try. You just got to keep writing and you’ll get better and better every single chapter. By your second story, you’ll be in a groove and it will be better than the last. The next story will be even better.

In conclusion. Just write. Every day. Even if it’s a few paragraphs. It will keep you sharpen and keep you engaged and you’ll remember your plot a lot better that way.

I hope that helps. Feel free to PM me anytime with any questions. I’m not an expert by any means. There are plenty of fanfiction writers out there who are far better than me. But I’m willing to offer support, encouragement, or whatever I can. Good luck!!

[nettlestingsoup]

Hi morgan <33333 hope you're doing well :D

1,2,5,6,8,9,17,18,30,31,38,44,49 for the fanfic writer asks <333

hi evy! i'm doing ok! looking forward to getting some rest over christmas!

1 and 8: answered here for honey!

2: answered here for fien!

5: i’ve been writing stories in general since i was about six? my sister started writing stories, and obviously i had to copy her, and then i just... never stopped. i started writing fic in 2018 sometime when i met my stay friends at uni! it was a nice way to bond with them while we were still getting to know each other, and they’re now some of the few people i trust to show my writing to when it’s unfinished and imperfect.

6: writing has done a lot of good work for my mental health, i think! it encourages me to look inwards and consider why i’m writing the themes i am or just gives me an outlet for bad emotions rather than turning them inwards. it’s done wonders for my confidence over the years, too; i think it’s something that even i can’t deny that i’m fairly good at, and it’s good to have that when my brain tries to tell me that i’m mediocre at everything.

9: i’m terrible with writing to deadlines, so not really. i might set deadlines for editing, but my writing is often so unpredictably long that i couldn’t write to a deadline if i tried (the thing i tried to write in time for my friend’s birthday? it might be done by her next birthday. in october 2023. maybe.)

17: i love fantasy AUs as a whole really, but i’m always drawn to vampire AUs! the only reason i haven’t written one of my own is because i think there are far too many good ones, and i worry that i wouldn’t be able to come up with something unique enough to match up.

18: i really love writing seungchan? i think it’s partially that they’re my favourite members to write, and partially that they’re the members who can often come across as most serious (although they’ve both been silly in interviews lately) and so i feel like i can put them in slightly darker stories. seungbin and jeongchan are creeping up the list though.

30: the hardest part of writing happens once i’m about 80% of the way through a story; i’ve done most of the fun worldbuilding by that point, and most of the very emotional scenes have to give way to Actual Plot before i can write an emotional ending. it’s the point in a fic where i’m most likely to get bored and have to drag myself through the writing process.

31: big descriptive scenes! i love sitting and describing things, it’s a wonderful exercise in creativity and it allows me to set a scene really well. i love the experience of choosing which words to use to set the tone of a story; i’d describe the same forest using very different wording in a faerie fantasy au to a horror fantasy au for example, and it comes very naturally to me to just sit and set the scene before any pesky characters or dialogue get involved.

38: all the time! occasionally i get nostalgic for my own concepts, or reminded of them by friends or ao3 comments, and i’ll reread sections or whole fics then. it sounds a little arrogant, but sometimes my own fics are the only ones that scratch the itch for very specific content in my brain. it makes sense, i suppose. i wrote them exactly to my own taste, after all.

44: i tend to write linear these days! i’ll definitely plan future scenes (with the orchid, for example, i’d been waiting for weeks to get to the scene where minho admits he’d deactivate his own emotional processor if seungmin got hurt) but i tend to leave them hanging there as incentive to write the scenes leading up to them.

49: i guess the writing advice i’d give is to not be afraid of being a little bit weird? just genuinely write how you want to write, not in a way you think is good or that people will like. i find writing a lot more fun and fulfilling when i let myself use the bizarre metaphors and odd descriptors that i actually want to, rather than worrying that people won’t like or understand it.

thank you for asking these! they were a lot of fun; this ask game actually has a lot of really good ones. <3

#asks #evyfm #one day i might write a proper vampire au #it's just about finding something unique to write #i have a draft one but i needs a lot of editing in terms of worldbuilding #there was also a minchan concept i had but the base concept wasn't angsty enough #i need to make it more painful for everyone involved and then it might work #writing #ao3 author #fanfic

[bookpublisher1]

Unveiling the Writing Rituals: A Peek into Successful Authors' Productivity Habits

Writing is a craft that demands discipline, inspiration, and a touch of magic. Behind every captivating novel or insightful piece of prose lies the writer's journey – a journey often shaped by unique productivity habits and rituals. In this exploration, we'll take a sneak peek into the writing rituals of successful authors, shedding light on the strategies that make them productive writers while uncovering the pitfalls of bad habits that can hinder creativity. Join us on this literary journey into the world of productive writers and the circles they create.

The Anatomy of a Productive Writer

Becoming a productive writer is not just about typing words on a page; it's a holistic approach that involves mental discipline, creativity, and a deep understanding of one's own process. Successful authors often establish rituals that cultivate an environment conducive to productivity.

1. Morning Pages and Daily Rituals: A Fresh Start Every Day

   Many prolific authors swear by the practice of morning pages, a stream-of-consciousness writing exercise done first thing in the morning. This ritual, popularized by Julia Cameron in her book "The Artist's Way," allows writers to clear their minds, confront any mental blocks, and start the day with a clean slate. Daily rituals, such as a specific writing time or a favorite beverage, create a sense of routine that helps maintain focus.

2. Dedicated Writing Spaces: Crafting the Perfect Sanctuary

   Successful authors often carve out dedicated writing spaces tailored to their needs. Whether it's a cozy home office, a favorite corner in a coffee shop, or a quiet library nook, having a designated writing space signals to the mind that it's time to create. This separation of spaces contributes to a mindset shift, enhancing the writer's focus and productivity.

3. Inspiration Rituals: Feeding the Creative Fire

   Many writers have specific rituals to ignite their creativity. This might involve reading a favorite author before starting their own work, going for a walk, or engaging in other activities that stimulate their imagination. These rituals act as a bridge between the mundane and the creative, helping writers tap into their unique reservoirs of inspiration.

The Pitfalls of Bad Habits: Navigating the Challenges

While successful authors have honed productive habits, they are not immune to challenges, and bad habits can lurk even in the most accomplished writers' routines. Understanding and overcoming these pitfalls is an integral part of maintaining consistent productivity. 

1. Procrastination: The Silent Enemy

   Procrastination is a notorious foe of productivity. Successful authors acknowledge the allure of delaying work and implement strategies to counteract it. This might include setting deadlines, breaking down tasks into smaller, manageable chunks, or using productivity tools to stay accountable.

2. Perfectionism: The Paralysis of Progress

   Striving for perfection can hinder productivity by creating a paralyzing fear of not measuring up. Successful authors embrace imperfection as part of the creative process. They recognize the importance of pushing through drafts and revisions, understanding that perfection is an elusive goal.

3. Isolation: Breaking Out of the Writer's Bubble

   While solitude is often essential for deep concentration, excessive isolation can lead to creative stagnation. Successful authors balance their solitary writing time with engagement in a writer's circle or community. Sharing ideas, feedback, and experiences with peers not only provides valuable insights but also helps combat feelings of isolation. Here are 7 Bad Habits That Are Slowing You Down As A Writer.

Writer's Circles: Nurturing Creativity through Community

The concept of a writer's circle, where authors come together to share their work and support one another, is a powerful tool for nurturing creativity and productivity. Successful authors understand the importance of community in the writing process.

1. Feedback Loops: Constructive Criticism and Encouragement

   Writer's circles provide a space for authors to give and receive constructive feedback. This exchange of ideas helps writers refine their work, identify blind spots, and gain fresh perspectives. Constructive criticism within a supportive environment fosters growth and improvement.

2. Accountability Partnerships: Staying on Track Together

   Accountability is a cornerstone of productivity. Many successful authors form partnerships within writer's circles to keep each other on track. Whether it's setting shared goals, checking in regularly, or collaborating on projects, these partnerships create a sense of responsibility that enhances productivity.

3. Celebrating Successes: Collective Achievements

   Writer's circles celebrate not only individual accomplishments but also collective successes. Whether it's finishing a manuscript, securing a publishing deal, or receiving positive reviews, sharing triumphs within a supportive community reinforces the joy of the writing journey and motivates writers to continue their productive habits.

Conclusion: Crafting Your Own Literary Rituals

In the world of successful authors, productivity is not a one-size-fits-all concept. Each writer's journey is uniquely shaped by a combination of rituals, self-discipline, and community engagement. Unveiling the writing rituals of productive authors offers valuable insights for aspiring writers, allowing them to discover what practices resonate with their own creative process.

As you embark on your writing journey, consider experimenting with different rituals, establishing productive habits, and seeking out a writer's circle or community. Embrace the lessons learned from successful authors, navigate the challenges posed by bad habits, and craft a writing routine that suits your individual needs. By weaving together the threads of inspiration, discipline, and community, you can unlock the door to sustained productivity and fulfillment in your literary pursuits. So, step into the world of writing rituals, and let your unique journey unfold.

#writers circle #writing habits #writing routine #productivity #writing tips #book coach #book publishing

[babylon5]

how can I write better. any tip? I love your writing style btw

thank you! :)

i'd say that its really important to read a lot, and read stuff you wouldn't normally read. for me, i found one writer whose writing style resonated with me so deeply i read everything she put out for years and it helped inspire how i write things today - i basically studied her stuff! (not in a plagiarism way of course). reading other people's work is important bcause it helps you a) see the world from different perspectives, b) see how each writer's style and voice is distinct, thus hopefully allowing you to develop a unique voice and style of your own and c) see how vast and creative the literary arts can be, and what exactly can be done with the medium of creative writing.

in general, though, i've written a sort of abstract post about this before but to say more on the topic, i find that improvement comes with experience. the more i experience life, the more i force myself to look at the positives, to go outside and gaze at the sky and inhale the nature around me, to take an extra moment to appreciate how good the food i'm eating is, for example, the more i find my work evolving, if that makes sense. inspiration is found all around us.

when i first started taking writing seriously-seriously as a kid, i just.. wrote. all the time. as much as i could, whenever i could. i have so many journals from that time lol. this is a really good thing to do because, as cliche as it probably is to say, practice really really does help. i do regular stream of consciousness exercises, which is where i set a timer for like a minute or 5 minutes and write whatever i'm thinking without ever stopping until the timer runs out. and of course this exercise isn't accessible to everyone, but i find it helps me both sort out my thoughts and squeeze some inspiration juice out. but overall - write as much as you can. experiment with genre/form/themes.

and most of all learn to love what you've written if you don't already, because i find the most meaningful improvement happens when you want to write out of a genuine love or at least enjoyment of writing, instead of worrying about whether your work is "good" or not ('good' is a highly subjective label, of course). if you've created it, it's beautiful. be proud of what you've done and keep going!!!

#i hope this makes sense i'm SOOO TIRED rn haha

[universitypenguin]

Okay Alice! So what's your writing style? I just figured out mine. It's controlled panster I know the ending and some plot points of my story but plotting stress me out. I think you'll be a plotter or a planster🤔

You’re spot on! I’m a methodological pantser.

If I do too much outlining, the energy fades away. Knowing the full story just makes me feel like I’m done with it before I’ve written anything. I fall on the edge between plotter and pantser. For an act, I use a rough outline, just to make sure I’m keeping up a good pace and not getting distracted. But beyond knowing the pinch points between acts, my midpoint and the ending, I don’t bother very much.

Also, I never really plot the third act beyond knowing approximately where I’d like to end.

I’m sure of my type, because I definitely revise and edit at the same time I’m writing the first draft. On the continuums, if you assigned the middle as zero and the extreme application of the trait as 100%, I would say I’m 5% a plotter and 95% methodological.

When I do sit down and outline a story, I’ll get one or two results. One - I lose interest. Two - having created the plan, I can now throw away the plan and write from a more creative perspective. Option two works kind of like doing a first draft, but it’s more time efficient.

I’m also totally committed to story structure.

There are so many variations on them that I never get bored learning about structure. I would say I refine my ideas with plotting and then charge in without a firm plan in mind. The tent pole method, where you know the key turning point and you’re always mindful of where you are in the story’s progression is what I rely on. This is probably why most people think I’m a plotter, when I’m really not. For example, with the Princess and the Lawyer I know the midpoint for certain, and I have since the beginning. But I don’t have much more than a concept about how I’m going to do the ending. To accommodate that when I wrote Nguyen’s interrogation scene, I made a list of potential scenarios and lists of clues that would be interesting to write about. I might use them or I might come up with something better once I know more about the story.

For me, plotting is more of an exercise in finding out how not to write the story, if that makes sense. Once I’ve plotted enough that I can tell my ideas are getting better, I start writing and see what comes out. This is always a surprise. I have no idea what I’m going to make the characters say and do once I’m in the zone. After I see it on paper, I can work with my methodological skills and pare it down into something that works. The creative side of me has to come out during the actual process of writing and then the scientific mind evaluates her colleague’s work, and helps with organization and execution.

Another reason I know I’m a methodological pantser is because I always run out of steam. The first 15,000 words of a book usually take me less than a week. Then I slow down a little for the next 15,000 and struggle through the transition into Act 2. Then, I’m down for the count. Discipline and commitment are key to getting through the next three chapters but they can take me months. I’ll set little goals and focus on writing every single day, because you can only fail for so long. Eventually, something works out. What’s helped me lately is expecting that 2nd Act “pit of despair” and reminding myself that I can, in fact, get through it.

I also run out of steam in the middle of Act 3. The fact is, all that freedom comes with a price. Where I planned to end up is never where I actually end up. It was a lie all along. But it’s always just accurate enough to get me to the right spot, where I can figure out the ending. It’s as if I’d planned a road trip from Los Angeles to New York, and once I hit New York, I realize I have to go to Vermont. Then I can look back at my story and see that I was never driving towards New York at all.

However, when I hit the end of a story and I finally see the ending, I go crazy. When I was writing “Restitution” I wrote, edited, and posted the last four chapters inside of a 24 hour window after a full day at work. No joke. I was awake for a full 48 hours, locked into a genuine ADHD hyper focus, while I finished that story. The time stamps on the posts will prove it.

It’s a strange and chaotic writing type, but that’s what makes it fun. 😂

#creative writing #writing type #methodological pantser #penguin replies #how to write #writing advice

[goabrakadoodle]

Made To Measure, Homemade Paint Recipes

It has been proven beyond doubt that art has a dramatic and positive effect on children’s academic performance. Painting classes for children allow them to come alive and explore their senses: discovering colour, texture, smells, movements and images. As well as develop skills that are vital to language and math learning.

Once your child learns to hold a paintbrush and begins to work with it, she will be exercising her wrist and hand, developing finger strength. In other words, be able to grip a pencil correctly and begin to write sooner than her peers will.

As she draws shapes, makes swirls, and creates patterns, your child will be switching on the mathematical ideas in her brain and building new neural connections.

And as she begins to learn and mix homemade paints, and experiment with different types of paint and paper, she will discover what happens when more water is added. This way you are actually encouraging the budding scientist to design the first experiment on her own.

Painting is a joyful expression of your child’s inner feelings and thoughts. Of her creative thinking activities, her spirit, and her true personality.

Easy-to-make, non-toxic paint

When you are having toddlers who enjoy playing with colours, do you ever experience deep down, that nagging worry about the ingredients in the paints the children are playing with? Especially when they are at an age when everything they’re playing with finds its way into their mouths?

You are not alone. Put an end to this fear, as it is simple and easy to make homemade paint that children can play with safely. Knowing that the ingredients that go into making homemade paints are entirely edible and harmless will be a great relief. Safe and inexpensive, these homemade paints work just as well as those that are bought from a store.

If your toddler loves painting regularly and it has become a part of your child’s creative activities, encourage your child to try something new. Bring out those homemade paints, grab a large sheet of paper, and invite your child to celebrate her creativity and expect some fabulous outcomes.

Here are a few ideas that will add a different twist to your easy homemade paint recipes and paint making experiments.

Homemade finger paint

The basic ingredients are flour and water, mixed in the ratio of 1 cup flour to 2 cups water. You can scale this up or down, depending upon how of paint you’d like to make. Use, washable, non-toxic liquid watercolours to add colour to the paint, but your best bet will be to use food colours for an equally similar effect.

Pour flour and water into a pot. Keep stirring this mixture until it dissolves to form into a smooth paste. When this mixture becomes easy to pull away, remove the pan from the heat, and add a little salt. This is important as it helps keep the mixture from spoiling.

Squeeze food colouring or liquid watercolours into the flour mixture until you reach the desired colour. Repeat the whole process until you have a set of homemade paint in different colours. Pour the paint into separate plastic bowls.

All you have to do when you are ready to use is add cold water. Just ¼ of a cup to the paint will be enough. Store the paint in covered containers in the fridge if you’re not planning to use them right away. It will keep indefinitely.

You will find the texture of these paints to be like mousse and will feel nice on the hands when cold. Painting it on their hands to make hand prints is an exciting way to get your child engaged. Later on, you can get your toddler to use a paintbrush to paint in the more traditional way.

Unlike synthetic paints, the pigment in a homemade paint you just made may not stick to the paper easily. If your child wants a brighter shade of colour, all she has to do is to apply the paint extra thick. After the paint dries, the colour will pop out just like poster paints do.

Generally speaking, all children will be more interested in the process of making something than in the final outcome. Relax and feel comfortable in the fact your child will agree that your homemade paint recipe will be for keeps!

Soft playdough that lasts For months

Very pliable, and fun to work with, your homemade playdough will be an ultimate sensory play material that your toddler will love. And since you have taken the time to make it at home, it will also be totally nontoxic. Read on to discover a fail-proof, absolutely safe play dough recipe that is so easy to follow.

It will be worth your while as you will be saving tons of money in the process. And the best part, you don’t have to worry if it gets onto the sensitive hands of young children nor fret if they happen to lick some of it while playing.

So here is the recipe in easy-to-follow steps. Mix 2.5 cups of wheat flour with 2.5 cups of filtered water. Add 1 ¼ cup of salt and 5 tablespoons of vegetable oil. Mix these ingredients thoroughly in a large pot, making sure that there are no lumps left. Place the pot on the stove and cook over a low flame. Stirring frequently with a large wooden spoon. The dough gets smoother as it cooks.

Keep mixing until the dough begins to dry out around the edges. Check by pinching a little of it, and see how it feels between your fingers. If it is not gooey, the dough is now ready for the colours.

Spread the dough on the counter or a large cutting board, wear gloves and start to knead the warm dough until it turns smooth. Divide the dough into four or six balls, depending upon the colours you want.

Add food colouring or liquid watercolours, making gorgeous shades of play dough to match any occasion, mood or toddler request. If you like a darker shade, add more colour until the desired shade is achieved.

You can use the coloured play dough right away or you can store the flattened balls in a ziplock bag. Put these away in the fridge, it will keep for months without spoiling. The perfect blend of salt, flour, and oil, means the dough is not sticky. It may feel a little greasy, but it will never stick to the fingers or hands.

Most everyone will like the sensory experience of working with play dough. It’s also a great stress buster for children of all ages and adults as well!

Homemade watercolour paints

Making your watercolour paints is a very affordable way to create your art supplies. You will also involve children in a creative, scientific process where they can experiment with different materials found in nature and provide a variety of unique colours.

To make your paints, start with collecting leaves, flowers, berries, spices, soil, and food colouring. Choose only items that you recognize and know are safe to use. Fill tiny plastic cups with water and then start experimenting with what you can add to create a range of colours to paint with.

Select petals of flowers like carnations, marigolds, and calendula. Collect soil from different locations, and gather the powder to mix with water.

Try mashing up separately berries such as raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries. Mix them with water and extract their dye, and then strain the coloured water into small jars before using.

Alternatively, raid the kitchen cupboard to gather spices to try, such as turmeric, ginger, or cinnamon. Dissolve them in water to create earthy colours. You will be surprised as to what nature and you can create.

Homemade bath paints

They are so easy to make at home. All you need is just two basic ingredients – shaving cream and food colours. The texture of this homemade bath paint is soft and the colours come out bright and beautiful.

The ideal container to mix the colours is an old muffin tin tray, use it as a palette with a choice of your colours.

Squirt a little shaving foam in each space of the muffin tin tray, and then stir in the food colour. You can also think of using food colouring gels, as you’d need to use a tiny bit each time.

Remember to leave a few empty spaces on the muffin tin tray palette, and encourage your child to try out colour mixing of their kind.

Play with these bath paints in a tub, a sink or in a bathtub. As the main ingredient is shaving foam, it is super easy to clean up after play. Just wash it all away with water!

Homemade chalk paint

Making chalk paint at home is so easy and creates a great sensory play material for toddlers. An interesting aspect is the texture of the chalk paint changes.

At first, it has a very paint-like appearance, spreads easily and gives a very transparent look to what you draw.

As it dries, the picture takes on a more chalk-ish look and begins to look a lot more like a solid block of colour. When completely dry, you can just dust it off with a piece of cloth and blow the powdered colour pigment particles away.

To turn it into a science lesson, ask your child if she knows why the texture looks so changed? Introduce her to the idea of evaporation and what happens during the process.

Homemade scented paint

You will quickly realize how popular this homemade paint-making recipe will become with your child, and you of course. To make scented paint, all you need is your choice of paint and a selection of fragrances to add.

For a beautiful lavender shade, for instance, chop a few leaves and buds from a lavender plant and add a little purple water-based paint. Leave it overnight. In the morning, just stir the mixture and inhale the pleasant aroma of lavender and paint a shade that you may not have seen before.

To a bowl of light green paint, add mint leaves your child has found in the fridge. This will result in green paint with a gentle fragrance of mint when you use it to paint on paper. Even a whiff of it will leave behind a memory of green you are not likely to forget anytime soon.

Ever thought of adding a grated rind of a lemon to the yellow paint. It will be a refreshing whiff of lemon that is released with every stroke of the brush on paper.

How about a grated peel of an orange with a little orange paint as a base. You will be releasing a refreshing scent of the summer filled with the fragrance of orange.

Each scented pot of paint you create can be used immediately. Or when left overnight to brew in a sealed container in the fridge, give the container a little shake and open the lid. You will release a fragrance with every stroke of the paintbrush

While the fragrance may not remain on paper for long, the memory of this in-the-moment, will let you enjoy-the-process sensory experience and make it linger for a long time to come.

About Abrakadoodle

Art education at Abrakadoodle creates learning experiences you can use to inspire children to think different, be innovative, and devise ways that teach about interesting things found in the real world. Changing the way children discover and imagine. Ignite their minds to think, play and learn like never before.

If you like to enrol your child in our children’s art classes or participate in cognitive learning activities, give Abrakadoodle a call. Or better still, make an appointment with the head of a centre near you.

Get hands-on exposure to an experience that will make you see art in a way that adds value to a child’s life.

Please note: Abrakadoodle classrooms are thoroughly sanitized every day — the tables, the chairs, the children’s activity stations and everything else the child might touch is made safe and clean. They also wear a mask, wash their hands frequently, and practice social distancing

Originally published at Abrakadoodle Blog on 17th June, 2022

#Painting classes #finger painting #paint activities #kids art classes #kids art programs

[arteyhumano299]

You Keep Me Waitin’

Chapter 1: Feel Better (9k words)

Summary: Kagami and Marinette aren't that close— they’re friendship is relatively new and there's still some unresolved tension. Kagami has just experienced heart break for the first time, and her mother’s expectations are beginning to weigh on her. Marinette’s duties are doing a similar number on her, and painful realizations have also left her heartbroken. They realize they can use each other as an excuse to flee from their troubling lives. In each other they find unexpected comfort, and soon they're closer than either could have expected.

Available on Ao3 , fanfic.net , and Wattpad

Notes:

First fanfic I'm publishing in a while. So I made the creative decisions to make the characters slightly older, around 17,16 ish. It's just cause it makes me uncomfortable to write sexual tension between 14-15 year olds. Also, this fic takes place right after the break ups so like season 4, ep 2. I can't promise consistent updating schedule but I'm committing to this fic. This first chapter is pretty long, I don't have a set words per chapter limit so the chapters might be all over the place. Anyway. Enjoy :)

Kagami feels hollow. She felt hollow as she closed the door of the locker room. She felt hollow as she walked out of Françoise Dupont. She felt hollow as she made her way down the stone steps at the entrance of the collège. The sound of her shoes making contact with the ground made Kagami feel especially hollow —the only sound that rang in her ears. Said shoes carried her to Tatsu's red door. Eyes found the car’s window, Kagami grimaced at her own reflection.

She clutched Tatsu’s handle and swung the backseat door open, hoping to flee from her own eyes. Her head hung low, eyes on her lap, as she closed the door. Slowly, she lifted her head to face the window and the collège’s front gates. She took a deep breath before turning her eyes forward. “Take me home, Tatsu.”

The collège disappeared as Tatsu moved forward. Kagami exhaled. Her hands found their way into her fencing bag and she slowly retrieved her phone from the bundle of clothes and protein bars. She steeled herself as her phone lit up. The screen read 6:09 against a familiar picture Kagami had taken that day at the San Martin Canal. They were seated at the canal’s edge, Adrien’s chin smudged with ice cream and Kagami smiling giddily at having caught this momentary clumsiness. Adrien, oblivious to the desert decorating his face, grinning at the camera and leaning close to her. She pursed her lips as she felt a pang to her chest, and opened settings with a decisive press of the home button. Their twin smiles disappeared from her lock screen, replaced with an old picture of the Eiffel Tower— one she had taken when she’d first arrived in Paris. She’d grown accustomed to it by now, but the large monument had seemed so mystical when she first saw it.

A sense of exhaustion came over her and she let her neck fall backwards. Head falling on the seat’s headrest, the car’s ceiling filled her vision.

Had this been a mistake?

Kagami had always been rational. Her mother valued logic above all, putting her stakes only in what she could hope to benefit from. Mother had taught this principle to Kagami at an early age, and Kagami had taken it to heart. She put a lot of effort into her passions, assured that her work would pay off. She took her future seriously, recognizing that it would reflect all of her present decisions. She didn’t goof off or blow off responsibilities. She did her best to control her sometimes reckless personality. She wasn’t disobedient. And she certainly didn’t waste her time in mindless relationship games. But here she was now. Kagami had gone about dating Adrien the way she did most things: straight to the point, and with a set goal in mind. She had been decisive, and she wasted no time dancing around her feelings, thinking that it would pay off, like all other things had in her life. Sitting alone in a car, heartbroken, had not been the outcome she predicted. Could she have miscalculated?

Somewhere inside herself, she understood that she had been very clear about her feelings, and had worked hard to maintain their relationship– at times, even foolishly bended some of her values just to get closer to him. Adrien had been the one to lie, and had always been more apprehensive with his affection, like he was holding back and holding on at the same time. Right now though, Kagami doubted herself. She’d never been the type to, but maybe while she was blinded by her affections for Adrien, she’d lost herself.

Her mother would be disappointed. Kagami hadn’t exactly told her of their relationship, and thinking of the times she did stuff she would disapprove of just to spend time with Adrien, Kagami wasn’t sure if she wanted to. God.

Kagami had been so eager to get closer to Adrien, and latched on as soon as Adrien began to reciprocate her stares, she had acted foolishly hadn’t she?

Her eyes eventually found the window again, but she regretted it as soon as her eyes laid on the glossy dark waters of the San Martin Canal. She saw the green leaves of trees painted on the water’s surface.

Something coiled in her chest.

“Tatsu, stop.”

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Kagami pushed the car door open and exited onto the aligned stone slabs of the sidewalk. The door closed behind her, body facing the canal. A breeze swept Kagami’s bangs out of her face, drying the prickle of tears at the edge of her eyes. She walked closer to the canal and peered at her figure reflected on the water, her hands bunched in her skirt. The water was too far away for any of her features to be distinguishable but she stared at her reflection– her head of dark hair a blob dancing on the canal’s ripples. Her fists slowly unclenched and she lowered herself to the canal’s edge.

As her eyes followed the ripple of the water, Kagami wondered if getting overly self conscious about this break up was what was irrational. Obviously most relationships ended, and she couldn't expect her first lover to be her last. A memory of telling ladybug her and Adrien were meant to be crossed Kagami’s mind. She grimaced, cringing at the memory. Kagami had said it with bold certainty, confident that there was something special between them–an understanding she’d never experienced with anyone else. She hoped that maybe… that would be the case, once Adrien was ready he would apologize and realize what she had long ago. He didn’t trust her now though, so what assured her he ever would. Maybe the wound was too fresh to wonder about the future.

Kagami closed her eyes and felt another gust of wind flutter against her eyelids. She stood back up and began to walk along the canal.

As she walked further and further from Tatsu, she began to realize another issue. Was she going to ignore Adrien? She had told him she didn’t want to stay friends. Adrien’s distrust had stung her deeply– she had, after all, put a lot of energy and time into their relationship, and just returning to their old dynamic felt wrong. Were they just supposed to not acknowledge any of the remaining tension?

Adrien hiding stuff from her would sting regardless of their relationship, she cared very deeply for him– friend or lover. Kagami had to remind herself: don’t waste time and energy on fruitless efforts. If Adrien wasn’t gonna let up, Kagami would stop giving him the time of day. The opportunity to hurt her. She felt justified in her harshness, though Adrien was one of the only friends she’d ever had. Kagami began to wonder if any of this would seem ridiculous to someone more understanding and emotionally intelligent– Kagami admitted she felt short in that regard.

She admittedly was too caught up thinking of ways to figure this out to pay much attention to her surroundings. Mid thought, something slammed into her, or rather she slammed into someone. Kagami stumbled backwards, almost losing her footing but catching herself at the last minute. As soon as she regained her balance she looked up at the offended party to apologize. She was met with a familiar pair of blue bell eyes. Before she could muster up a ‘sorry’, Marinette beat her to it.

“Kagami! I’m so sorry! I was distracted and wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Her face was somewhat obstructed by boxes stacked on her arms- which she noticed were now off center.

“I’m sorry too, Marinette; I was also distracted.”

Marinette readjusted the boxes. “No, it was probably more on me. My limbs seem to have a mind of their own, a lot of people have fallen victim to my clumsiness.” Marinette’s face scrunched embarrassment.

“Well you are the one carrying boxes, I just bypassed pedestrian etiquette in my mindless daydreaming.”

Kagami could make out Marinette’s smile even with the obstruction to her face.

“That’s just like you to think getting distracted is a lapse of ‘pedestrian etiquette’.” She chuckled at Marinette’s phrasing of ‘pedestrian etiquette’. Marinette’s eyes peered at her quizzically.

“Are you alone, Kagami?”

“I am.”

That seemed to confuse Marinette as she looked around Kagami.

“I don’t mean to pry, but why are you walking down the San Martin Canal?”

Kagami looked back to the canal’s waters.

“I suppose...”, She tried to find an excuse as she faced Marinette again, " I thought the walk would be some nice, light exercise.” Marinette raised an eyebrow at her.

“Right after fencing? Shouldn’t you be having a meal?”

She was surprised that Marinette had any knowledge in the dietary guidelines of athletes. She’d never mentioned partaking in any active hobby to Kagami.

“I was just trying it out. ''

Marinette still seemed confused but shrugged and didn’t press further. Kagami’s eyes shifted to the boxes Marinette was still carrying.

“And you? Is there a reason you’re walking down a canal with an armful of boxes?”

Marinette seemed to remember what she was holding as her eyes flickered to the packages in front of her.

“Oh, right. I’m just making a delivery for the bakery.”

Kagami was now the one to question her with a raised eyebrow.

“On foot? With that tall of a stack?”

Her expression turned sheepish. “Bad idea in retrospect, considering my clumsiness and all.”

Kagami couldn’t help but smile. “What if I help you?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “With my delivery?”

Kagami nodded.

“What about your light exercise?”

“Whether it be going home or making a delivery I’m still walking.”

Marinette’s cheeks pinked. “Oh, uh, guess you’re right.”

She approached Marinette and reached for the top couple of boxes, taking them into her arms and waiting for Marinette to readjust her arms again.

“Okay, it’s only two blocks from here.”

Marinette began to walk and Kagami moved to follow her pace.

“Do you often make deliveries for your parents’ bakery?”

“When they need to be done yeah; it’s my way of helping out.”

Kagami looked at her profile, her pigtails more hastily tied than usual and her cheeks a paler pink than she was used to.

“Have they been keeping you busy?”

“Ah, no more than usual.”

Marinette met her eyes momentarily and Kagami wondered if those were eyebags under her eyes.

“They try not to be too demanding.”

“Really?... Have you been testing lately?”

She saw Marinette turn to her and could almost feel her puzzlement.

“Uh, no?...”

Marinette faced the walkway again.

“Why do you ask?”

“I just haven’t heard from you lately.”

There was a pause.

“I’ve just been caught up in some stuff.”

Kagami sensed she didn’t want to elaborate so she kept her questions to herself.

“Well, It’s nice to see you, even in a somewhat odd situation.”

“I’m glad to see you too.”

Her smile became soft.

“I haven’t seen much of you either, but I understand you’ve also been… busy.”

The silence that followed hung for a second too long. Kagami wasn’t sure how she should interpret that— she’d never explicitly told Marinette about her and Adrien, but they hadn’t really hid their affection. “I…” Kagami sighed. “Yeah, I have been distracted with other… stuff.”

The silence continued and Kagami considered even noting the weather to fill it. Before she could stew in the silence any longer, Marinette cut through it with a boldness she wasn’t accustomed to seeing from her.

“How are things with Adrien?”

Kagami suddenly felt very insecure and the packages of pastries in her arms felt heavier.

“We weren’t very subtle were we?”

Marinette considered her question.

“You two have been getting pretty chummy for a while.”

“... I can see what you mean.”

“You know, it’s okay. I just really hope you don’t drop me, so you guys better not stop hanging out with me.”

Marinette’s attempt at lightening the mood was stunted by the tension. Kagami was too preoccupied with finding the right response to care.

“Well, of course, I wouldn’t abandon our relationship for Adrien.”

Kagami was too consumed in her nerves to notice the change in tone of Marinette’s silence.

“You don’t have to worry about my schedule being full though.”

Marinette laughed.

“Kagami, it’s natural for couples to spend a lot of time together, you don’t have to make time you don’t have for me. Don’t worry, I have other people I can get orange juice with.” She swallowed.

“I don’t doubt you do.”

They approached a crossroad and Marinette turned, Kagami following after her. She let it out before she decided against it.

“What I meant to say, is that you don’t have to worry about my schedule being full anymore.”

Marinette stopped abruptly but Kagami expected it. Her expression was hard to decipher.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that”, Kagami stepped closer to her. “Adrien’s no longer going to be taking up my time.”

Marinette’s eyebrows slowly furrowed, she searched her face and Kagami hoped Marinette couldn’t make out her insecurity.

“You…”

“We did.”

She faced forward once again. “It’s been the case for all of a half an hour.”

“Oh, God, Kagami, I’m so sorry.”

Kagami turned to shoot her a frown. Marinette shut her mouth before she could begin her rambling. She might not be feeling like herself but she still wasn’t below taking her pity.

“Obviously I’m still processing but quite honestly, the break up actually happened last night.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t need to see him until our next fencing lesson so I’ll have time to figure something out.”

They finally continued to walk.

“I mean, I bet Adrien will make an effort to keep things friendly.”

“That’s exactly what I fear.”

“What do you mean?”

Kagami kept her eyes forward. “I’m not planning on keeping our relationship as friendly as it was before.”

She hoped she didn’t sound bitter.

“That bad, huh?”

“Adrien made his decisions so I made mine.”

Kagami definitely sounded bitter.

“Well, then I guess you should start making time for another juice date.”

Marinette’s smile felt reassuring. She slowed down and stopped in front of a pair of glass doors. Kagami could make out a lobby from the large windows on either side.

“We’re here by the way.”

Kagami went ahead and opened one of the doors, holding it for Marinette who had the taller stack of boxes. Marinette allowed her act of chivalry and entered, Kagami following behind her. She looked around the lobby as Marinette advanced to the front desk, eyeing the cushions taking up most of the room, and wondering who had thought buying several loveseats for such a small lobby was a good idea. Marinette returned before Kagami could criticize the internal design further.

“Okay, we should be able to just go up and knock on the door.”

They made their way to the elevator and Marinette pressed the button to the fourth floor. They stood in silence for a few seconds.

“It wasn’t just me that noticed the disgusting orange loveseats was it?” Kagami smirked “I also noticed their incompatibility with the room, though I was more worried with the amount of floor plan they took up.” Marinette scoffed, “More like incompatibility with my eyes.”

This time Kagami actually laughed. The elevator doors opened and they made their way into a hallway lined with numbered doors.

“Okay, I think it was apartment 127.”

They scanned the doors until finding it: apartment 127. Kagami knocked and they waited for an answer. Kagami could hear the muted sound of rock music and laughter. Finally, the door’s handle shook and the door swung open. A short woman with brown hair dyed red stood at the entrance, her eyes taking them and their armful of boxes in.

“Oh, the pastries are here!” The woman pushed the door open further, and turned her head to the apartment.

“Arthur! Come help me with the pastries.” The woman turned back to them “Sorry, lovelies, I’ll get those off ya in a sec.” A man poked his head before joining the four of them at the entrance. He was significantly taller than the woman but had the same red hair.

“Those smell good”, he grinned.

“I can assure they taste just as good”, Marinette responded, sugar sweet, in what Kagami guessed was her customer service voice. The woman and man reached out and took the boxes from them and Kagami was glad to have the weight off her arms. She stretched them out as the woman looked through her wallet and placed some bills in Marinette’s hands. “Thank you, have a nice day, ma’am.”

“Have a nice day too, ladies.”

Marinette smiled at them as they closed the door. Then she also stretched her arms with a sigh. “Okay, let’s go.”

They entered the elevator, returned to the lobby, and then exited the apartment complex.

Marinette turned to her. “Thank you so much, Kagami, people don’t tend to order so much so it was probably for the best I ran into you.”

“It wasn’t a bother,” she could feel the smile on her lips, “It was also nice to catch up with you.”

Marinette grinned at her. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at another time. You should probably call Tatsu, you’ve had enough exercise for today.”

“Oh, are you my trainer, Marinette?”

“I’m your friend, so I’m more important.”

Kagami couldn’t argue with that. An idea popped into her brain and she pursed her lips.

“Let me walk you home, Marinette.”

Marinette blinked at her.

“Walk me home?”

“Yes.” She nodded awkwardly, “Walk you home.”

“Shouldn't you be home by now?”

That made Kagami pause— it was true her mother would figure out her absence pretty soon.

“It’s fine, I’ll just text my mother.”

“But you must be tired, I really wasn’t kidding about the exercise thing.”

Kagami disliked when people coddled her, but Marinette’s worry did actually make her feel cared for.

“I’ll be fine, Marinette, I always make sure to carry extra protein bars in my bag.”

Kagami paused and furrowed her brows. “That is unless you’d rather walk home alone, I’m sorry if my request was brash.”

Marinette shook her hands. “No, no, I just didn’t want you to over exert yourself. I know you always give it your all at your fencing practices.”

While Kagami had had a tiring day, Marinette’s company has helped both the ache of her muscles and her chest.

“I’m not that tired, besides,” Kagami moved to stand beside her, “we haven’t talked about our juice date.” She was rewarded with a bright smile.

“Okay, fine, if you’re sure.” Marinette began to walk and Kagami was right beside her.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to ask you where in the world you found a red lamé?”

“Well, Marinette, I pride myself in my dedication.”

They fell into step with each other, letting the conversation flow naturally. As they made their way through the streets of Paris, Kagami listened intently to Marinette’s rambling about old fabric dyeing techniques she’d been looking into. They finally found their way to Marinette’s doorstep and they waved each other goodbye.

She was aware she might return home to a lecture, but as Kagami saw Marinette enter her home, she recognized she felt better.

--------

Marinette rested her back on a chimney, her eyes raking over the other rooftops, waiting for an unexpected attack to pop out of them at any second. Chat was similarly seated next to her, though he didn’t seem quite as on edge as Marinette felt.

Now that the duo had to worry about Shadow Moth, Marinette felt like she was on edge as soon as she transformed. Chat sensed her unease, and regularly attempted to ease her tension with a lighthearted joke. Marinette appreciated his efforts, but she also didn’t want to be distracted —just in case.

She drummed her fingers on her lap and wondered if maybe they should move to a higher vantage point. Maybe they should start making their patrols more active, circling the whole city instead of just moving to a few locations and watching. If there was going to be an akumatization tonight, Marinette hoped it would appear already. Now that she had a gaggle of kwamis to look after, Marinette’s responsibilities seemed to have doubled. She really couldn’t slack off in her schoolwork, or her duties as class rep, or her obligations to the bakery— she knew wedding season was coming up so her parents were going to really need her help. That wasn’t even mentioning all of the personal issues Marinette didn’t know how to tackle. She seemed to have been able to keep a low radar so far, but any second now her friends would figure out the earlier day’s events.

Marinette really didn’t want to think about Juleka’s reaction.

Marinette’s thrumming speed up.

Chat must have seen the anxious twitch of her fingers. “You know, it’s getting late, there probably won’t be any trouble tonight.”

Her eyes flickered to the blonde. “We haven’t checked the south-eastern side of the city.”

“I can go check on my way home.”

Marinette thought about protesting, but she could make out the worry etched onto the line of his eyebrows. His mop of hair caught her eye, messier than she was usd to— almost like it was drooping. She wondered if she wasn’t the only one having a hard time.

“You go to school so you should probably get home and rest.”

“You also go to school”, Marinette noted.

Chat’s replying chuckle felt empty.

“I’m not going to be sleeping anytime soon .” Marinette hoped it wasn’t defeat what she heard in his voice. She regarded his usually vibrant eyes, now dulled with an exhaustion Marinette could recognize.

“You too huh?”

Chat broke eye contact to look out at the Paris scenery. Marinette did the same, gazing at the endless darkness of the sky.

“It’s been a hard week.”

She could only hum in agreement.

Her suit protected her from the cold, but Marinette’s face felt icy in the night’s dropping temperature.

“Is it a personal problem?”

“Well, I think Shadow Moth has both of us on edge, but mostly yeah.”

Chat fiddled with the cuffs of his gloves. She’d always been a proponent of keeping everything private, only revealing what was necessary, but something about Chat’s frown bothered Marinette.

“I can listen.”

Chat’s head shot up, his expression one of surprise. Marinette tried to convey comfort through her own expression. “Really?”

“As long as you keep it vague. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

His responding smile was small, but Marinette was glad for it nonetheless.

“Well, um, okay.”

Marinette relaxed against the chimney and Chat changed his posture to face her more.

“I started seeing someone recently.”

Marinette’s eyes widened but she kept quiet.

“We were friends beforehand and I realized I liked her, so I thought it would be a good idea.” Chat exhaled. “I’m Chat Noir though, so we couldn’t keep it up.”

Understanding washed over her.

“She was pretty upset, and now… she told me she no longer wanted to have any type of relationship.”

Chat’s eyes stared at the ground(rooftop rather.) Marinette reached for him without thinking. Chat looked at the hand she placed on his shoulder, and then at her. His eyes told her he received the message:

I understand

She leaned in and hugged him. They sat like that for a few seconds, enjoying each other’s warmth, before they separated.

“I think you’re right. We should go home.”

Chat nodded and they both stood up, still facing each other.

“Chat… I know we can’t exactly hang out, but you’re my friend, so if you need anything...”

Chat nodded.

“Thank you, ladybug.”

They shared a smile before going their separate ways.

--------

Marinette was later than usual. The classroom’s tone felt different than yesterday, and Marinette read it immediately. She apologized and took her seat, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes. She could feel Alya’s on her all hour though, but she kept her eyes forward. All of her attention was focused on Mme. Bustier, Marinette throwing herself into the coursework to try and ignore the impending questions. The scratch of graphite on paper worked as a background to Mme. Bustier’s voice, and it did a good job at keeping Marinette’s mind occupied with work.

So much so that Marinette almost didn’t hear the bell.

She stared through the paper in front of her, her fingers tightening around the pencil in her hand. She could feel more eyes on her now.

Recognizing that she could no longer ignore Alya, Marinette picked herself up from her hunched posture and turned to her. Like she predicted, Alya was looking right at her. She didn’t attempt to decode the emotions in the hazel of Alya’s eyes.

She stood up and Marinette knew to follow. Mylène, Rose, Alix, and Juleka were behind them as they made their way out of the classroom. Alya stopped next to a bench and sent Marinette a look, communicating to her that she should sit down. Marinette complied. She studied Alya’s face, and Marinette disliked that the tension in it looked more like worry than displeasure— Marinette didn’t want to lie to Alya when she was looking at her with concern. Alya sighed and she sat beside her, the other girls sitting around them. Marinette thrummed her fingers, waiting for Alya’s words.

She directed them at Alix though.

“Alix, would you like to tell Marinette what you told me?”

Alix met eyes with Marinette before facing Alya. “Recently I heard something from Mylène about Marinette.”

She blew a bubble with her bubblegum and it’s pop unsettled Marinette.

“I think she knows what I’m talking about.”

Marinette sighed before rubbing her arms self consciously. She looked around at their faces— they were waiting for her but Marinette didn’t know what to tell them. She remembered the walk she’d had with Kagami some days ago. Kagami had noticed her exhaustion so soon, she could only wonder how long it must have taken her best friend.

“Do you not want to tell us what happened?”

“Um, no, no, I just… It’s just complicated, I’m not sure I’m even done processing what happened.”

Alya placed a hand on her shoulder. They all understood.

“I, well. I’ll tell you.”

Marinette took a deep breath and tried to work out what parts she had to modify.

“You guys know I’ve had feelings for Adrien all year. For months I’ve had this giant crush on him.” He heard some hums of agreement.

“These past few months I’ve actually begun to talk to him, and for a while now we’ve been friends. Somewhere during that time, I started to get to know different sides of Adrien, and my feelings deepened. I began to think that maybe he could actually like me back. I felt like we were finally connecting... But I think I’ve slowly come to realize that Adrien doesn't think about me like that.” Marinette could hear her voice lowering so she coughed and looked up. “I had to come to terms that Adrien liked someone else, loved someone else.” She tried not to think about Kagami’s words.

“Luka, he was always so sweet. With Adrien, I felt like this spluttering blubbering mess.” She sighed. “No wonder he didn’t like me back, all of my clumsiness gets turned up to a hundred around him. Even once my stuttering calmed down somewhat as we became closer, I feel like a mess around him even now.”

Alya scoffed like she’d been the one to be insulted.

“Marinette, you’re so incredibly smart and clever. You’re also kind and you don’t hesitate to help others. If Adrien hasn’t realized that yet then that’s not your fault.” She tried not to think about how Adrien was all of those things, but more. Or how Kagami was also all of those things, but yet they still…

Marinette didn’t let herself dwell on it.

“That’s something Luka would have told me.”

Alya fell silent.

“Luka made me feel like I could just be. It was easy to talk to him, and when he told me he had feelings for me… I felt like maybe we could work.”

Her eyes flickered to Juleka, but her expression hadn’t changed much.

“My feelings for Adrien were hard to ignore though. I think Luka could tell.”

“I really did like Luka. I just, I feel like I got him caught up in my emotional mess and hurt him.”

Marinette stopped thrumming her fingers and dug them into the fabric of her pants. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys. I’ve been busy and I haven’t been able to reflect on the break up yet.” Marinette looked around all of them, their faces sympathetic.

Rose stood up and wrapped her arms around Marinette. She pulled back and Marinette could see tears rimming her eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize to us, Marinette.”

“Yeah, it sounds like you’ve been having a rough time”, Mylène piped up.

Alya’s hand slid from her shoulder to her back. Marinette appreciated the act of comfort.

“Thank you guys, for being understanding. I just need some time.”

“Of course, Mari, just tell us if you need some hang out buddies to turn your brain off with.” Alix didn’t join them in their huddle around the bench, but her smile was softer than her usual smirk.

“Of course”, Marinette grinned, she could feel the mood lifting. “If any of you would like to get your butts kicked in Ultimate Mecha Strike III, you know who you can call.”

Rose and Mylène giggled, parting from Marinette so she could look up at them better. Marinette couldn’t tell them everything but she genuinely felt her mood lift.

The bell rang.

Marinette felt like now she could scratch that off her list of things to worry about.

She was about to stand up as the other girls smiled and made their way back when she turned to Alya. She was staring at her intensely, like she was analyzing Marinette.

“Uh, Alya? We should make our way back.”

Alya continued to stare at Marinette. Marinette swallowed and clutched the edge of the bench. Finally, Alya crossed her arms and stood up. She didn’t move to make their way back though.

“Alya, we’re going to be late.”

“You’re still hiding something.”

Marinette’s mouth shut. Alya just continued to bore holes through her.

“H-Hiding something?”

“Luka knew you were in love with Adrien since before. He would have been fine with waiting for you to get over him.”

“But I couldn't, okay. I was hurting him and we couldn’t-”

“Marinette, I’m your best friend, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Marinette wanted to say she couldn’t actually. She bunched her fist in her jacket instead.

“If this is about me not being the one to tell you, I already apologized. I really am sorry, but I just wasn't in the right headspace.”

“When you’re not in the right headspace your emotions tend to spill over. You’re not the type to stew in your feelings.” Marinette narrowed her eyes at her, annoyed at how factual she’d made it sound.

“Don’t act like you know everything about me, Alya.”

Alya’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Marinette swallowed.

“I mean…” She sighed.

“Again, I’m not in the right headspace. Let’s just go to class.” Marinette left and didn’t look back to see if Alya followed.

--------

After class, Marinette shot some smiles at the girls. She apologized to Alya but she could tell she wanted to press further. She left before Alya could protest.

Marinette entered the bakery and greeted her parents, masking her mood with a bright smile.

“Hey Maman, hey Papa.”

“Hello, sweet buns. How was your day?”

Marinette circled the counter and joined them behind it.

“It was alright. Mme. Mendeleive started rambling about this guy called Louis Le Prince near the end of class. It was hard to follow but apparently he invented the camera before Eddison.”

Her mom smiled fondly at her.

“I didn’t know that. I hope that means she didn’t assign you any homework.”

They smirked at each other.

“You’d be right, Maman.”

Marinette didn’t say she was slightly disappointed about it. Her mind needed a distraction. And almost like she’d read her mind, her mother perked up, her expression somewhat sheepish.

“Would you be a dear and help us out with an order for waffle cookies. Me and papa are working on decorating a wedding cake.”

Marinette grinned at her mother.

“Of course, Maman.”

Her mother informed her of the specifics for the order before making her way back to her husband.

Marinette set her bag down on a corner and rolled up her sleeves, plugging in her headphones before reaching for the bottles of ingredients and bowls she would need. She scrolled through her Jagged Stone playlist as she plugged in the waffle iron, once finally settling on an album, stuffing her phone in her back pocket as she found her way back to the table. Marinette tried to get lost in the mindless task of measuring and mixing, making sure to be very meticulous so her mind could only focus on teaspoons of vanilla and cups of flour. These tasks were second nature to her anyway though, so eventually her mind wandered.

Marinette hoped that she’d be able to smooth things over with Alya tomorrow, but she knew how stubborn she could be— Alya wouldn’t stop questioning Marinette. Marinette was so tired of the lies. She’d been lying to Alya almost the entirety of their friendship, and Marinette hated that she was getting better at it. She could just continue to lie to her, it was probably what she would end up doing, but what if Marinette didn’t? What if she just told her the truth.

Marinette fumbled with the mixer before pouring her mixture of ingredients onto the mixing bowl. The sound of the mixer competed with the loud music of her headphones, but more thoughts kept crawling into her mind.

Marinette would admit that at times she wished she didn’t have to. It would be so nice to confide in someone who understood what being a highschooler was like, and who also had some experience with the whole superhero thing. The danger was obvious though. She’d be putting Alya’s security at risk, and hers as well of course. So much was at stake so she couldn’t even entertain the thought. That the weight of being Paris’ greatest superhero while being a seventeen year old high schooler was finally dawning on her.

The mixture of ingredients quickly turned into dough, and she began to scoop up balls of it with her fingers, morphing them into walnut sized balls.

How could Marinette be Marinette when she had to be ladybug? She had dreams she was trying to pursue, as well as responsibilities as a student and daughter. However, she also had a duty to Paris to protect its people. The reality was one she couldn’t afford to forget. These days it felt like she had to be ladybug more and more, her persona bleeding into her everyday. Maybe it was all the hiding and lying that was slowly becoming part of her personality.

Her fingers dug into the dough a bit too hard and ended up making a hole through the ball of dough. She sighed at the tiny doughnut in her hands before reshaping it.

Trust was such an important part of relationships but there was no one Marinette could trust with her secret. And as ladybug continued to dominate her life, Marinette felt as if she’d never be able to invest herself fully in one. Marinette couldn’t giver herself whole if she had to hide half of herself.

She began to line the dough balls, checking the waffle iron.

Marinette hoped she’d be allowed to just be her soon enough. She could dedicate all her time to progressing in her aspirations, accomplishing her responsibilities, and maintaining her relationships.

She sprayed the waffle iron with cooking spray.

Leaving ladybug ...meant leaving Chat Noir too though.

Her eyes studied the dots of cooking spray on the iron.

Fingers pressed into the dough as she placed them along the iron. She lowered the lid slowly.

Maybe… just maybe, they’d find each other after.

The smell of the cookies crisping began to waft over her, Marinette leaned against the table, propping her arms on the surface and closing her eyes as she focused on the smell. The kitchen was warm, and she could hear a bit of the tune her Maman was humming through her headphones. Jagged Stone’s guitar began to quiet down.

It could be that they would never see each other again after that.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, knuckles white with flour and fingertips sticky with residue dough. Her left thumb reached for her right hand and she began to fidget with her ring finger. How did Chat’s miraculous look when he wasn’t transformed? Marinette wondered if she’d be able to recognize it. After all, she doubted anyone would be able to recognize her superheroine persona shining through her fumbling civilian identity. Was Chat just as exuberant in real life? Her mind pondered what kind of teenager Chat would be like. He probably had a lot of friends, and he was probably a bit of an attention seeker. Marinette’s face softened. She bet he was insufferably kind. His friends were very lucky, they could enjoy being Chat’s friends without the weight of thousands of people’s lives on their shoulders. If they met without the masks, would they be friends?

She flattened her hands against the table, tracing circles with her fingers on the flour dusting it. The next song on her playlist began to start. The sweet smell of the cookies continued to fill her nose.

Actually…

Marinette sniffed the air.

“Eek-”

She tried to find the timer somewhere, realizing she hadn’t even taken it out. Scrambling to lift the waffle iron lid’s, Marinette bumped into the table, her hip bone knocking against the table’s edge. She yelped and clutched her hip. Too late, Marinette realized the uncapped vanilla extract bottle. She tried to stop its fall but the bottle tumbled and knocked against a bowl before falling on its side. The dark liquid spilled onto the wood immediately, and Marinette panicked as it pooled around bowls.

“Marinette?”

She only responded with a strained chuckle as she lifted the bottle off the table and regarded the pool of vanilla. “Sorry, I just spilled some extract.”

Her mother glanced from the wedding cake.

“Oh, honey, clean it up before it stains too badly.”

Marinette nodded and rushed to find some paper towels to absorb the extract. She pushed the bowls out of the way and pressed the paper towels onto the table, the white paper quickly turning dark even as the pool of liquid disappeared. Her eyes scanned the room for a rag as she replaced the paper towels. Her hands reached for the nearest one and took it, scrubbing at the surface, praying that the stain would lighten if she placed it next to a window. Suddenly, Marinette remembered what her original plan was as the air turned bitter. Her hands fumbled to open the waffle iron, revealing the now overly brown cookies. She plucked them off the iron and placed them on a cooling rack. As she reached for the last one, her pinky brushed against the hot metal and she hissed, biting her lip and scowling as she rubbed at the burn.

“Today is not my day”, Marinette mumbled.

Her mother shot a glance in her direction again, her brows painted with concern. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine, Maman, just a little burn.” Marinette sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

She left her parents in the bakery, climbing the stairs to her home. She pushed the door open with her body and found her way into the bathroom. Marinette opened the faucet and slid her red pinky over the cool water. The change in temperature helped the pain and she exhaled deeply.

Her eyes found her reflection on the mirror and she couldn’t help but scowl. She’d been donning a ‘finals week’ kinda tired on her face– cheeks pale, eyebags deep, and pigtails almost coming undone– but now she also had flour dusting it. She couldn’t wait for this week to end. It was still the middle of the week though, so Marinette guessed she’d need to work extra hard to make it speed by. Her other hand found the faucet and closed it. The towel bothered her skin as she toweled her hands dry, but she hoped it would calm down soon enough. She made her way out of the bathroom, and turned to the kitchen. Swinging the cooler open and scanning its interior, Marinette took a napkin and plucked an ice cube off the ice rack. She closed the cooler before swinging her body onto the counter— her Maman wasn’t here so no one had to know.

The ice was a bit harsh on the burn, but Marinette was looking to numb the pain so she pressed tightly against her pinky. A quiet chuckle passed through her lips. It’d be neat if she could have some numbing ice for other aspects of herself. As she jokingly wondered how that’d work, she realized her mother was calling out to her.

“Marinette!”

She blinked at her Maman’s voice but made her way to the stairs, poking her head down to the bakery.

“Yes, Maman?” Her mother appeared from around the corner.

“There’s a girl here asking for you, honey.”

Panic rose up her throat. Was it Alya? Marinette wasn’t ready to confront her, and she needed time to come up with something to feed to her.

“She brought you some orange juice.”

Marinette frowned at her mother. Orange juice?

Tension left her face.

Her Maman knew Alya pretty well, so Marinette supposed it’d be weird of her not to just tell her it was Alya. Making her ways down the steps, Marinette looked around the bakery. A blue bob and white jacket was the first thing she registered.

“Kagami?”

The girl was standing somewhat awkwardly in front of the counter, two plastic cups in her hands.

“Good afternoon, Marinette.” Kagami’s greeting smile was stiff on her face.

“Hey, Kagami.” Marinette responded simply, she walked towards her, and weaved around the counter. She swept her hand over her cheeks.

“Sorry I was just baking.”

“You look fine, Marinette.”

“Really? I remember a few days ago you mentioned I looked pretty bad.”

“Well, you do look tired.”

Marinette shook her head. “I can’t argue with you on that.”

The logo on the plastic cups Kagami was carrying was familiar.

“So did you just drop by to give me orange juice?”

Kagami brought the cups up to her chest. “Well”, Kagami shifted her weight from one foot onto the other, “I was hoping you’d have some with me.”

“Oh”

“Then in that case.” Marinette turned to her parents, who were probably already listening,

“Can I finish the cookies later?”

“Sure, honey, just cover the dough up.”

Marinette nodded and signaled Kagami to follow her. They walked past the counter and into the actual bakery, Marinette took some wide plates and lined the dough balls on them. She took some seran wrap and covered them, setting them off to the side. She swept her hands together to shake off any remaining flour and turned to Kagami.

“Okay, follow me.”

She led her around the corner and to the stairs. Kagami glanced around.

“So this is what leads to your actual home?”

She followed Marinette up the steps.

“Yep. The first floor is just the bakery.”

She pushed the door open and moved to let Kagami in first. Kagami took her home in. The white couch decorated with throw pillows; the kitchen with their bright blue refrigerator; the three windows spilling sunlight through grey curtains. Marinette closed the door behind them. Kagami stepped into the kitchen, her eyes roaming over the fridge. Marinette joined her.

“Weird color for a home appliance, right?”

Kagami glanced back at her, but reached her hands up to a photo on the cooler’s door, her fingertips grazing it.

“Is this a relative of yours?”

Marinette glanced at what she was looking at. The photo was a few years old, Marinette was sprawled out on the couch that was currently right behind them. A teenage boy leaning on said couch was teasing Marinette with a feather. Her face was scrunched up as said boy tickled it with the feather. They were both grinning though.

“Oh.” Marinette smiled at the picture. “That’s my older brother actually.”

Kagami’s brow questioned her, surprise evident on her face. “I wasn’t aware you had a brother.”

“Yeah, I guess I don’t talk about him enough. His name is Anthony.”

“Does he live here?”

“Oh, no, he’s studying abroad right now. He wasn’t able to come during Christmas but he’ll be here during the summer.”

Kagami seemed to mull over this information. She kept her eyes on the photo. “What was it like?” Marinette looked at her quizzically. “ Growing up with a sibling, I mean”, She clarified.

Marinette snorted. “Annoying, no one else knows how to tick you off like a sibling.” She wiggled her fingers as she presented the picture. “Exhibit here.”

“Really? I don’t know if that sound… enjoyable.”

“Pfft, well growing up with siblings is definitely pretty bothersome.” Marinette nodded at her own comment. “Sometimes it's funny but being so close to someone before gaining any sense of maturity comes with annoying downfalls.”

“People have told me it’s sad I don’t have any siblings though.”

Marinette couldn’t read Kagami’s expression.

“That’s kinda rude of them.”

Kagami smiled at her response.

“I’ve always thought so too.” She set the orange juice on the nearest surface. “But I guess I wonder if siblings are worth all of their hype.”

Marinette thought about her brother. It’d been a while since he’d last seen him, and she’d never admit to it to him, but sometimes his absence made her home feel empty.

“It’s also really nice, having someone to grow up with. I get why they might have said that.” She shrugged. “It’s a unique bond.”

“So do you miss you brother?”

“Ugh, well it’s a pain to admit but yeah.”

Kagami smirked in amusement. Marinette reached for the orange juice Kagami had brought. “I didn’t know they had such cute to go cups.” Kagami took the other cup and followed Marinette as she made her way to the counter in the kitchen, each of them taking a seat.

“You're the type to always notice design.” It wasn't a question.

“Well I might specialize in fashion designing, but if something is cute then I’ll notice.” Marinette brought the straw up to her mouth. The orange juice was refreshing and Marinette humed against the straw in contentment. Kagami smiled at her drink as well.

“I love orange juice, but is there a specific reason you’re here?”

Kagami parted her mouth from the juice and shrugged. “I suppose we never actually set a date for that orange juice date.”

“Hmm, are you maybe trying to make time up with me?”

“Well I did want to see you.”

“I’m flattered by your honesty. But I bet you also wanted to see what a bakery-home was like.”

Kagami looked around the room again instead of responding.

“Your house is so small.”

“Oh, gee, I know it's no mansion.”

“No, I didn’t mean it in a degrading way.” Kagami’s eyes flitted to a particular tiger shaped pillow on the coach. It was an old comfort toy of Marinette. “It’s homely, and warm.”

“Well it is right above a bakery”, Marinette pointed out.

“It does smell of baked goods.”

“Come on Sunday mornings. Last week I woke up to lemon-berry savarin and palmier pastries.”

“Should I come every Sunday to guess the pastry of the week?”

“You're invited to taste it too.”

They both laughed.

“I can’t promise I’d be awake to greet you, Sundays are one of my holy sleeping-in days.”

“I see you value your sleep.”

“You could say that. Like you’ve noticed though, I look like a mess when I don’t get enough of it.” Kagami didn’t respond for a second.

“So you haven’t been getting much sleep?”

“Oh, ah”, Marinette laughed awkwardly. “No, spose I haven’t.”

“You have a lot of responsibilities.”

“That I do.” Marinette chewed on the straw of her juice.

“Thank you for coming actually, I’ve been having an off day.”

“Rough week?”

“Pretty much.”

They sat in a comfortable silence as their juice slowly disappeared. Marinette noted that Kagami looked better than she had the last time they’d met. Part of her wanted to ask how that whole thing was going for her, but did she actually want to know?

“So”, Kagami broke the silence first. “You make deliveries but you also bake?”

“Of course, what kind of baker’s daughter do you take me for?”

“Do your parents expect you to take on the bakery someday?” Marinette opened her mouth but then swallowed.

“They understand I have a dream for designing, but we still haven’t figured it out. They really want to keep the bakery alive.”

“Sorry, it seems like a complicated subject.”

“It is, but it’s okay.” Marinette slurped the last of her orange juice and set her cup down. “It really is okay though, a discussion for the future. Like you said, I have enough on my plate at the moment.” Kagami also finished her drink

“Well I hope the bakery stays open until next Sunday, I want to try the pastry of the week.”

Marinette giggled. “I’ll make sure to make you something special.”

“Do many people get the pleasure of tasting your baking?”

“Some lucky souls out there in Paris.”

“I trust you’re good then.”

“Well I think my baking is plenty tasty, I’m just a clutz.”

“So your clumsiness doesn't interfere with the taste?”

“No, it just endangers my safety, as well as anyone’s in a three meter radius”, Marinette sighed.

“I do read you as accident prone.”

“Don’t laugh but actually I stained the work table with vanilla extract and burned my pinky only a few minutes before you came.”

Kagami’s brows rose in surprise.

“Wow, really?”

“Yep”, Marinette grumbled, lifting her right hand up. It wasn’t so distinct anymore but her finger was still red. Kagami noticed.

“I see, does it still hurt?”

“Not really, I mean it’s not fun getting burned but I have thick skin so it’s okay.”

Kagami paused and looked at her, confused. “Thick skin?”

“I’ve been pricking my fingers with needles for years, scaring has made my skin thicker and less sensitive.”

“Oh, I had no idea.”

“Yeah, sometimes I get quite insecure about it. I don’t think a guy would appreciate holding hands with me. Girls are supposed to have soft skin or whatever.”

“I know what you mean, fencing has made me build my own callouses.”

“Oh that’s right, your fence training must have done a similar number on your hands.”

Kagami nodded holding her palms out on the countertop. “I have a similar insecurity.” Marinette gazed at her hands, she could make out the callouses. She leaned closer to Kagami, placing her left hand on the countertop too.

“May I?”

Kagami’s dark eyes considered her, her bangs almost completely covering her eyebrows— It made it hard at times to decipher her expression— said bangs bounced as Kagami nodded. Marinette moved her eyes from Kagami to her palms. She lifted her left hand, her knuckles grazing the cool countertop as it approached Kagami’s. Their skin touched, marinette’s index finger grazing Kagami’s pinky. Her touch was tentative as she brushed her fingertips over Kagami’s fingers and against the inside of Kagami’s hand. It was unexpectedly cool. Just like Kagami had said, the skin along her palm’s crease was distinctly tough and one could only wonder the years of training needed to result in such callouses. She studied Kagami’s hand. Her palm was more plush than her own, but her fingers were bonier, and they also had a yellow undertone that darkened around the edges of her hands and turned into the warm color of the rest of her body. Marinette found this information oddly fascinating.

Her eyes flitted to Kagami’s face. Her gaze was on Marinette’s fingers, and Marinette realized that she was caressing Kagami’s palm. She flushed and retracted her hand, drumming her fingers on the countertop.

“Um, your hands are pretty nice actually.”

Kagami’s hands curled into loose fists.

“They aren’t soft though.”

“No, but anyone can tell that your skin’s texture is the product of hours of hard work.”

Kagami didn’t respond, but Marinette could make out a whisper of a smile on her lips.

“They, uh, they’re cool too.. Nice and cool.” Marinette swallowed, embarrassed she’d actually said that. Kagami blinked at her and Marinette hoped she hadn’t made it weird.

“Your’s are warm.”

Marinette stopped her drumming.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Baker’s daughter thing again?”

Marinette chuckled and looked at her own hands now. “Yep, exactly.” She ran her right thumb along the base of her left thumb. Her skin had more of a pink undertone which she knew she’d inherited from her papa. Marinette wondered if both of Kagami’s parents had warm undertones. She glimpsed in Kagami’s direction. Her eyes were on the countertop, somewhat hidden behind her bangs. Marinette realized how little she actually knew of Kagami. They hadn’t been friends for that long so maybe that was obvious. Was it one of those rich kid-strict parents thing?

A ringing broke her train of thought. Kagami sat up and reached for her pocket, hastily pulling her phone out. A frown pulled on her lips.

“Everything alright? Is your mom calling?”

“Just a text. She wants me to come home now/”

“Oh, do you need to be somewhere?”

“No, it’s just past the time I told her It’d be here.”

“Why does she need you home then?”

“She doesn't, she just doesn't like it when I don’t stick to my plans.” Kagami returned her phone to her pocket, she could make out her exasperation through her movements.

“You need to leave then.”

“I do. I’ve intruded long enough anyways.”

“Of course you haven’t. But I’ll walk you out.”

Marinette stood up and Kagami followed. They made their way back to the bakery. Kagami nodded her head at her parents, a small bow of her head. “Thank you for letting me come into your home, M. and Mme.Dupain-Cheng.”

“You're always welcome -”

“Kagami”, Marinette offered.

“You're always welcome, Kagami. Have a good night, sweetheart.”

“And you as well.”

They exited the bakery, Tatsu already waiting for her.

“Well, it was nice seeing you. Feel free to come again.”

“I enjoyed talking with you.” Kagami’s smile was warm, her statement genuine.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay.”

Marinette could feel her own smile on her face. She waved as Kagami entered the car and drove off. It was evening by now.

Marinette stood in front of her home. She felt better.

A/N:

It's been a while since I last saw some of the episodes so if anything seems off let me know. I don't know if Anthony will make an appearance but I love the Brother AU so I'm including it. Feedback is appreciated, especially since I don't have any beta readers, point out any mistakes please. -Rey :D

#Marigami #Kagaminette #marinette dupain cheng #Marinette #Kagami Tsurugi #Kagami #mlb #mlb fanfic #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #you keep me waitin’ #ykmw

[pynkhues]

What advice can you give for making a dialogue sequence flow better. Rather than just saying he said, she said, etc.? Please and thank you (●'◡'●)

Hi! That’s a great question, anon!

I know it was definitely something I struggled with when I was a newer writer because so often I think when we’re first approaching writing, we tend to put a lot of weight in dialogue. That’s not a bad thing necessarily, dialogue is an important part of storytelling, more so for some writers than others. Amy Sherman-Palladino who created Gilmore Girls and The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel is a very dialogue-driven writer for instance, whereas Vince Gilligan who created Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul often prioritises silence and lets visual language stand alone, but the way they use the dialogue they have, whether it be with a light touch or a heavy hand, isn’t really about the dialogue at all, it’s about tone and rhythm.

As you grow as a writer, I think you start to get more of a sense of what that means, but an example and an exercise I use a lot when I’m teaching creative writing is to take the scenario of two girls walking through a forest. Try writing it as a horror, and then try writing it as a light drama. The scenario itself can be either, it’s the tone that creates the story, and as a part of that, what changes is setting and environment, dialogue, and actions.

In one, you’ll have twisting branches and darkness and panicked breaths and scrambling hands, and in the other you’ll have lush trees and warm midday light and laughter and gentle touches.

You’ll also have very different dialogue, and therefore very different context for which that dialogue is delivered. What helps it flow, as you put it, is something that’s responsive to the story that you’re telling and what else is happening in the scene.

So! Let’s break that down a little!

When you're thinking about anything on a scene level, I think it really boils down to six questions:

What's the story you're telling?

What's the purpose of your scene?

Where are your characters? What is the environment they're in?

What are they doing as they talk?

What is the context of the characters' relationship?

How are the characters feeling?

That's kind of a lot, haha, so I'll try to keep this relatively short.

What’s the story you’re telling?

This really comes back to what I was saying above about the story you’re telling having an impact on how you use all narrative devices whether that be dialogue, description or setting. It would make no sense for Walt in Breaking Bad to talk like Lorelai from Gilmore Girls or vice versa for instance – that’s not the story that the writers are trying to tell. Walt’s limited dialogue helps to reflect his secretive nature and the dark mood of the story overall, while Lorelai’s rapid-fire dialogue and tendency to be doing a lot while she talks reflects the frenetic energy of the show and the gravitational pull she has on those around Star’s Hollow.

The dialogue – and the way that dialogue is delivered – helps to embed the viewer or reader and create a tone that matches the story you want to tell.

What’s the purpose of your scene?

More than that, how you use dialogue and the cues around dialogue helps to realise the purpose of your scene.

All scenes have a purpose.

Scenes are the building blocks of your story. They are what get you from the floor to the ceiling, and you need to know what each of those building blocks is doing.

That doesn't have to be a lot! Sometimes a building block is just 'character has a bird poop on them on their way to the party'. On its own, the scene might seem light, but the purpose is actually to set up that they're about to have a really bad time at the party. That's great! Because you know the purpose of that scene therefore is Foreshadowing.

The point is though that that purpose - whether big or small - will impact the way your characters behave and interact not only with other characters, but the environment around them.

If the purpose is, for instance, two characters misunderstanding each other, they’ll likely be frustrated or hurt, which will contribute to not just what they say, but their tone of voice and their posture, and the space. They might feel the chill of the air conditioning a little more acutely, grab a couch cushion to hug to their chest, distract themselves by putting dishes away with stiff hands, push a hip into the kitchen counter hard enough to leave a mark.

Purpose informs tone which informs character which informs action.

Which brings me to a big point.

Where are your characters? What is the environment that they’re having this conversation in?

This is something I see often neglected in writing from newer writers. Which is a shame! Space can bring so much to your story – not only in terms of grounding your readers, but providing entry points and understanding to your characters state of mind without you having to explicitly say it. How your characters feel that environment, what they focus on, is a way to explore how they’re feeling and can punctuate your dialogue (but I’ll come back to that point in a minute).

For instance, things like weather and temperature, wide open spaces vs tiny, cluttered rooms, other characters in those environments (I always encourage people to draw diagrams of rooms and map out character action. It might sound a little silly, but trust me, it helps a LOT), and the characteristics of those spaces (like I said above with barren, twisting branches vs lush trees as a very broad example) are all things that are going to contribute to the way you build a scene.

And more than that, what your character’s doing as they talk.

Which, hey! What are they doing as they talk?

It’s pretty rare for people to do nothing as they have a conversation – they doodle on sketchbooks, or roll their eyes, take sips of their drink, flail and gesture, reach out to touch the other person's hand, pet their dog, check their phones, get dressed or undressed – and that’s not even including the bigger acts that might be in your story – running from an enemy, cooking a feast for a huge party, getting into a fistfight, hacking into a secret government database, etc etc.

This is often a question I fall back on, and try to imbue in my writing. Take this little bit from Clean Like Him, where Beth is having a tense conversation with Rio in Paper Porcupine.

“Official launches make businesses feel real,” she says tersely instead, irritation seeping into her tone as she slashes the last row of paper. She collects the cuttings, organises the notes and checks the edges, mostly just to have something to do with her hands. So they won’t hang awkward at her sides or balled into fists or – worse – touch him somehow (god, why is she thinking about touching him? Stupid. She clears her throat. Refocuses.) “And if this is going to work, we need it to feel real, remember?”

Beth's working, but I explicitly say she wants to have something to do with her hands to distract herself from him, and her actions are jerky, her task a little aggressive, which is really about showing that she's on edge and punctuating a tenser tone.

The point is, all of these things are actions that are going to interrupt and interact with your dialogue and what that feels like depends on history and feelings.

Who's having the conversation, and what's the history of their relationship?

This might sound like an obvious one, but I think sometimes people can underestimate the impact that it actually has on an exchange. How familiar your characters are with one another and what the context of their relationship is has huge impacts on how a scene plays out and what a character might be doing.

Beth and Rio for instance knowing each other so well and not knowing each other at all is actually a pretty complicated dynamic to capture, especially when it's often paralleled with Beth and Dean who also know each other so well and not at all but in a completely different way, haha. These contexts though are going to affect how they interact. After all, Beth's not going to treat Rio the same way she treats Dean because that history and that context is different.

Really thinking about what that means is going to help you to think about the way these characters interact both broadly and specifically to what you're writing, which in turn is going to help you start to find a rhythm to their conversation.

How are your character’s feeling?

This is really the lynchpin of all of the above. How your character is feeling is going to define the purpose of your scene, how they interact with their environment and other characters, and what it is they’re doing. A character who’s frazzled is going to have more scattered dialogue, a more urgent tone, they’re going to pick up the wrong thing or lose things and their relationship with their space will be different.

Think of Beth in 2.07 when Jane’s missing. She and Dean go to a private space – his home office – to have a fight even though their house is full of police, neighbours and friends, and Beth is furious at him, and he throws something historic at her (and important to the context of their current relationship) - Rio shooting him - to deflect from his failure as a parent.

Immediately afterwards, Beth is frazzled and desperate. Her tone becomes harried, she can’t find her car keys and rummages through her handbag and the things on the hall table, even though she’s holding them, something Ruby has to point out, and then she leaves to find Rio to try and get him to help her.

The dialogue itself is there to build tone and atmosphere and in fact, Beth’s dialogue with Dean is punctuated by her tone and anger, not her words – she doesn’t tell Dean she doesn’t think Rio would ever take the children, she throws the question back at him and her fury is what tells us as an audience what she thinks.

Tone is what generates atmosphere and meaning, and to work out what your tone is is to understand the purpose of your scene and your character’s feelings, which in turn determines how they respond to their environment and tasks, and it’s that response that punctuates feelings and tone.

It’s all a bit of a snake eat tail situation, haha, but my point is, thinking about dialogue tags and flow is really thinking about the energy and context of an interaction, and the tone and the purpose of a scene. Think about sensory description, think about space, think about what a character might be doing as they navigate that interaction, and think about how you can use that to further explore the character’s interior life.

But most importantly, always be thinking about what you want your readers to take away from the interaction.

I’ve plucked another scene out of my most recent fic, Clean Like Him, just because it’s still pretty fresh in my head, and I've marked a few of these points in these screenshots (please open the image in a new tab so you can, y'know, actually read it, haha)

A lot of this excerpt is reliant on the context of Beth and Dean's relationship and the reality that Beth is using him but also still feels tied to him through their history, which in turn makes her feel guilty.

This is the second scene in the fic, so there's a lot of establishing stuff that comes up again later too – particularly Dean's insecurity and ego failings, and the fact that he diminishes and doesn't see her. Things like interruptions, like mid-conversation pivots, like wounded puppy expressions and Beth deliberately tuning him out are all utilised as active dialogue tags, but also tone and mood builders which hopefully creates the rhythm of the story.

You don't necessarily have to think about all this at once either. A lot of this sort of stuff I tend to work out more when I'm re-writing - so I'll already have a barer bones draft which is more about me putting the scene purpose down on paper; because, like I said, that's really the most important thing.

So yes! Sorry! That got a bit long, haha. I hope it's a help though, anon! Let me know if you have any questions 😊

#as always this is just advice #just stuff i've learned over the many many years at this point haha #hopefully though it's helpful to you anon! #and anyone else who's interested! #writing #writing advice #welcome to my ama

[iwanthermidnightz]

When she was 18, Taylor Swift wrote a song called “Fifteen.” “Back then I swore I was going to marry him someday, but I realized some bigger dreams of mine,” she sang, sounding more like a wizened great-grandmother than a rising senior.

“Fifteen” is evocative, if a little sanitized: Nimble mandolin strums mimic the nervous-excited butterflies of the first day of high school, as Swift sings of wide-eyed hope that “one of those senior boys will wink at you and say, ‘You know I haven’t seen you around before.’”

There was a certain emotional truth to the lyrics — do several years’ age difference ever seem more consequential than when you’re a teenager? — but some older listeners were skeptical. “You applaud her skill,” wrote a critic for the Guardian in a mixed review of Swift’s second album, “Fearless,” “while feeling slightly unsettled by the thought of a teenager pontificating away like Yoda.”

Swift, now 31, sings, “When you are young they assume you know nothing,” on “Folklore,” an LP that is both compositionally mature and braided throughout with references to the specific, oft-denigrated wisdom of teenagers. By the end of that song, “Cardigan,” the narrator has excavated such a heap of florid but emotionally lucid memories that she must conclude, with the force of a sudden revelation, “I knew everything when I was young.”

Though it’s not as flashy a topic as exes, fame or A-list celebrity feuds, age has long been a recurring theme in Swift’s work. A numerology enthusiast with a particular attachment to 13, Swift has also released a handful of songs whose titles refer to specific ages: “Seven,” “Fifteen,” and, of course, “22,” the chatty “Red” hit on which she summed up that particular junction of emerging adulthood as feeling “happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time.” Like her contemporary Adele, Swift seems to enjoy time-stamping her music, sometimes presenting it like a public-facing scrapbook that will always remind her what it felt like to be a certain age — even if, with their millions of fans and armfuls of Grammys, neither of these women is exactly typical.

Swift’s critics have often seemed even more hyper attuned to her age. Perhaps because precocity played such a role in her story from the beginning — at 14, she became the youngest artist to sign a publishing deal with Sony/ATV; at 20, she became the youngest to win the album of the year Grammy — many listeners have been fascinated with how her evolution into adulthood has, or hasn’t, played out in her songs. People comb Swift’s lyrics for allusions to sex, alcohol and profanity as meticulously as MPAA representatives do a borderline-PG movie. Particular attention was paid to her 2017 album “Reputation” and its several mentions of drunkenness and dive bars — even though Swift was 27 when it came out.

The relative puritanism of Swift’s music up until “Reputation” did feel like an intentional decision: Unlike the female pop stars who broadcast their “loss of innocence” as a sudden and irrevocable transformation, Swift seemed acutely conscious that she did not want to repel younger listeners — or lose the approval of their parents. At best, it felt like an acceptance of her status as a role model; at worst, it had the whiff of a marketing strategy.

But the mounting obsession with whether Swift was “acting her age” also reflected a larger societal double standard. Famous or not, women face much more intense scrutiny around age, whether it’s those constant cultural reminders of the biological clock’s supposed ticking or the imperative that women of all ages stay “fresh-faced” or risk their own obsolescence. (“People say I’m controversial,” Madonna said in 2016. “But I think the most controversial thing I have ever done is to stick around.”) And while girlish youth and ingenuity are rewarded in some contexts, they’re also easily dismissed as silly and frivolous as soon as that girl strays too close to the sun — as Swift has experienced time and again.

Despite having once been a teenage girl myself (unlike a lot of music critics), I confess that I am not completely free of these internalized biases. I was initially dismissive of “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince,” a song that appeared on Swift’s 2019 album “Lover.” The first few times I heard it, I wondered what a grown woman on the cusp of 30 was doing still writing about homecoming queens and teenage gossip.

But over time, I’ve come to appreciate the song and its dark vision, which acknowledges cruelty, depression and the threat of sexual violence (“Boys will be boys then, where are the wise men?”) more directly than any of the songs Swift wrote when she was an actual teenager. The senior boys in this song are not the sort who wink and say to freshman girls wholesome things like, “Haven’t seen you around before” — which, unfortunately, makes them feel more authentic. Even the title “Miss Americana” alludes to a larger world outside the high school walls, and the greater systemic forces that keep such patterns repeating well into adulthood.

“Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince” now feels like a precursor to some of the richest songs on “Folklore,” which finds Swift returning once again to her school days with the keen, selectively observant eye of an adult. Consider “Seven,” an impressionistic recreation of her perspective at that age. The second verse, charmingly, plays like a first-grader’s breathless sequence of unguarded observations:

“And I’ve been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted, your dad is always mad and that must be why/And I think you should come live with me and we can be pirates, then you won’t have to cry.”

But “Seven” is not cutesy so much as poignant, because of the tensions that result when Swift’s adult perspective interjects. “Please, picture me in the trees, before I learned civility,” she sings in a yearning soprano, prompting the listener to wonder what sorts of feral pleasure she — and all of us — have exchanged for the supposed “civility” of adulthood.

Quite a few songs on “Evermore,” Swift’s second release of 2020, also toggle between past and present, conscious of what is lost and gained by the passage of time. The playful “Long Story Short” passes a note to Swift’s younger self (“Past me, I wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things”), while “Dorothea,” like “Seven,” revisits a fevered childhood friendship from the cool perspective of adulthood.

Most striking is the bonus track “Right Where You Left Me,” a twangy tale of a “girl who got frozen” (“Time went on for everybody else, she won’t know it/She’s still 23, inside her fantasy”). That language echoes something Swift admits in the 2020 Netflix documentary “Miss Americana”: “There’s this thing people say about celebrities, that they’re frozen at the age they got famous. And that’s kind of what happened to me. I had a lot of growing up to do just trying to catch up to 29.”

But Swift’s recent songs, at their best, understand that “growing up” isn’t always a linear progression in the direction of something more valuable. Take the “Folklore” songs “Cardigan” and “Betty,” which use an interconnected set of characters to chronicle teenage drama and celebrate the heightened emotional knowledge of youth. “I’m only 17, I don’t know anything, but I know I miss you,” Swift sings in the voice of James, a high schooler who broke Betty’s heart and has shown up on her doorstep to ask forgiveness. Maybe that is a melodramatic thing to do; maybe it is the sort of thing adults could stand to do more often. Swift’s music helps us to remember that growing up doesn’t automatically mean growing wiser — it can just as easily mean compromise, self-denial and growing numb to emotions we once felt with bracing intensity.

In a gesture to regain control of her songs, Swift is currently rerecording her first six albums (her master recordings were recently sold by Scooter Braun’s Ithaca Holdings to the investment firm Shamrock Capital). Last month she released a note-for-note update of her early hit “Love Story,” and has promised to release an entire new-old version of “Fearless (Taylor’s Version)” later this year. It has been amusing to think of Swift going back and inhabiting the voice of her teenage self: On the face of it, “Fifteen” is particularly surreal to imagine her singing as an adult.

In another way, though, “Fifteen” — with its distant reflections on the youthful folly of expectations — makes more sense and carries more emotional weight being sung by a 30-something than it does an 18-year-old. Perhaps Swift was preparing for such an exercise when she made “Folklore,” an album that shakes off years of scrutiny and finds her reveling in the creative freedom to be as young or as old as she wants to be.

#posting the whole article with my emphasis because i thought this was very interesting #taylor swift

[swiss-cheeze]

French Road, East || Spencer Reid

Request: YES/NO: Hi! Do you take requests?? If you do, can I please request a Spencer x Reader (Including the BAU), where they are dating and the reader is a year or so younger than spencer, but just as smart and very loved by the team, and one day she has to save the team from an unsub and gets really hurt and after everyone is safe they are all really worried about her?? Idk if that made sense at all. Love you work!

A/N: OKAY SO, myself and a few other tumblr accounts got sent this exact same request from the same requester. I have spoken with all of the accounts i know of that have gotten the request and we have all mutually agreed that we will continue with our own fics in our own way on the basis/sense of ‘every writer is different and it's cool to see how others interpret the same request’, please go check out their fics too but please also dont message any of us about this little thing thats happened or saying one was better than the other because that's not what we’re doing here.

We write because we love writing and we love making worlds and being creative, this is a mutual agreement, yes we’re not too pleased with this happening but we are fine with going ahead with both of our fics.

Thank you.

A/N: I also got a little carried away with this little thing and kind of forgot about the ‘they get hurt’ part and instead left the end open for angst purposes; possibly a second part if requested? I don't know. This is also 10 full pages on Google Docs.

Words: 5727

Gender: they/them, none.

Warnings: descripton of people being beaten, kidnapping, mention and use of drugs, previous trauma of the BAU team brought to light, mentions of sexual abuse and assualt, mentions of possible rape.

Description: when 6/8 of the BAU team gets kidnapped, it's up to you and Garcia to find them before it's too late, but what happens when an old nightmare may consume someone's life again?

PART 2: https://snitchthewitch.tumblr.com/post/626602019637149696/french-road-east-apartment-23-spencer-reid

------

Spencer had slept over at Dereks after they had both consulted over their paperwork while you had gone to yours and Spencer's apartment alone, normally you two would arrive at work together with coffee ready for the day but today it just felt...off. Coffee in hand you entered the elevator and checked your work phone for any missed messages.

Derek Morgan phone (4)

Derek Morgan imessage (6)

Spencer Reid phone (2)

Spencer Reid imessage (4)

Okay, that was a bit weird. They normally called once, maybe twice, had your phone shut down last night? As you entered onto level 6 you stepped off to the side of the opening on the hallway, out of people's way, as you opened your phone for the messages, Derek first.

‘Going out with Spence and Pen’

‘Spencer misses you’

‘Pen says she wants to hug you’

‘We’re fucjlkeddd’

‘I don't think somethings okay’

‘Pick up’

Fuck, okay, maybe they just encountered a mugger? Spencer next.

‘mISS YOUUU’

‘Derek ssaysys he doeessdnt frrl ojay’

‘Someoned follow us’

‘French road, east’

What the fuck? So apparently they got followed? And then? What the hell is french road east? Was it an actual road to the east? Maybe the voice messages would help.

“HEY (Y/N/N)!” its Derek, “WE’RE HAVING OUR BEST TIME! WISH YOU WERE HERE!” the music was as loud as Derek was shouting in your ear, you couldn't help but smile.

“(Y/N)!” Spencer, “I MISS YOUUU!” you laughed at his drunk talking, “SHOTS!” and it finished.

“Hey (Y/n), we’re uh,” a laugh, it's Derek, “we’re walking back to my place now, with Pen and Pretty Boy over here,” you heard a faint shout of your name before laughter and the call ended. There was one voice message left, “someones following us. Under six foot, black clothes and looks disarmed but I can't tell from where we are and it's dark. I'll update you later (Y/n), i'll keep Pretty Ricky safe. I promise” and that was it. You brought your phone away from your ear and looked at it skeptically, Derek's story was backed up by Spencer because they both said they were being followed, Garcia hasn't messaged you though, she probably got cut off from her phone before anything happened, probably in Derek's pants pocket. Maybe they were playing a prank? No they wouldn't, Derek’s voice was too certain to be a prank. You shook your head from the thoughts before walking into the Bullpen and dumping your bag at your desk and looking around, Anderson, Mike, Daffey, even Esmerelda was at work today and yet you couldn't spot a single one of your teammates.

Okay, maybe they all slept in? You walked up to Hotch's office and knocked before putting your head through the door; looks the same as it was left. Funny. Hotch was always the first one in, if he ever left at all. You walked to Rossi's office and yet this was the same as Hotch’s; untouched and unmoved. Okay, this was a little scary, you made your way to the conference room with quick feet as the creek of the door being opened sent a shiver down your spine as no one was waiting for a case or even grabbing coffee, but you did notice the one folder that sat alone in the middle of the table. Cautiously, you made your way over to the file, picked it up and opened it, the photos inside the folder almost made you throw up.

Hotch, Emily, Derek, Spencer, JJ and Rossi were all sitting against a wall, beaten, bruised and dirty, arms positioned behind their backs. Underneath the photo was a piece of paper with bold red writing, almost blood like.

YOU WERE WRONG.

Your throat constricted as your breathing increased, you started hyperventilating as you heard the click clack of a certain pair of heels.

“(Y/N)!” Garcia yelled, she was running as quickly as she could with her platform, a file and laptop in her arms, “the-the team they've” she took a breath, “they've been taken, captured, abducted!” it took Garcia a few seconds to realise that you were close to fainting. Garcia put her things down on the table as she directed you to sit in a chair, got you a cup of water and started the breathing exercises that she remembered Spencer teaching her, he taught everyone tricks to help those when having a panic or anxiety attack as its something they would definitely encounter during their time with both agents, victims and unsubs, a few minutes passed and you finally calmed down.

“T-they, they tried to contact me” you said quietly as you looked at Garcia who was red eyed.

“And i was there (Y/n), they dropped me off home and where going back to Dereks, i didn't know if they made it or not because i had already past out by the time my head hit the pillow” Garcia reminded you, it took you a moment to realise but you where both in the same situation, and you nodded as the plan started coming together in your mind.

“Okay,” you stood up as Garcia opened her laptop, “when did you find out?” you asked, you needed to determine how long each of you knew the team was missing.

“I unlocked the batcave and I had the same file on my desk, when I saw the photos I ran up here and then to you,” you nodded as Garcia spoke.

“Okay, I want cameras of every place each of our team members have been, bars, apartments, anything and everything. See if there are any recurring cars or bikes or vans that drive past the streets, do facial recognition on anyone following them like with Reid and Morgan, see if it's happened to all of them.” you took a breath as you called in someone from the bullpen and handed them both the files you and Garcia had been given, “Get this to the lab for fingerprints, this is top priority; we have a team missing” you'd told them, they nodded slightly scared and confused before walking off as Garcia started talking.

“I've got the filters on and they're searching but it's going to take some time,” Garcia said sadly.

“Look up previous cases the BAU has had including the words ‘you were wrong’, ‘French Road’ and ‘East’, possibly other words like ‘it was wrong’, ‘they are/were wrong’ that type of thing, date it back to Rossi's days,” you ordered Garcia.

“(Y/n), a lot of those files are physical if you go back to Rossi,” the tech analyst reminded you.

“I know but still, set filters for that and go as far back as you're able, tell me if you get any hits, i'm going to go down to the file room and i'm going to go back as far as Rossi's days for the physical copies until he started going digital,” you told Garcia, she looked reluctant to let you go so you moved to where she was sitting and you gave her a large hug, “we’ll find them Pen, i promise” you mumbled into her cherry scented hair.

“What about Spencer?” she asked softly as the two of you let go of each other.

“He sent me a message saying ‘french road east’, that has to mean something,” you smiled, “i'm going to try and find that road through all of DC and if there's a hit i'm going to go there and see what's up with it, it might be where they were taken or a street Spencer noted as an important thing for us to know” Garcia nodded and quickly sat back down and started typing on her laptop as you left.

God only knows what your teammates are going through right now.

-----

“YOU SON OF A BITCH” Derek yelled as J.J. was dragged to the middle of the floor and repeatedly beaten.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT” Hotch yelled as J.J. started to whimper, the people stopped at Hotch's comment and left J.J. on the floor, Emily and Spencer scrambling with their hands bound to get to their teammate, making sure she was okay.

“What do we want? We want you guys on our side!” one of the people said, he was happy, how could this make anyone happy?

“FBI agents in our group? We’d rule the world!” another one exclaimed as the rest of the group laughed.

“It obviously took a lot of time and planning didn't it? To capture all of us” Hotch said cooly, though on the inside he was boiling.

“Six months,” someone said, it was a new voice that came from the entrance of...the sewers? Poor Spencer was probably having an attack with all these germs.

“Hey boss! We got ‘em” another one said, god there was too many to remember.

“I can see, you missed two though” the Boss said as he looked at the team, a few of his men dragged Emily, Spencer and J.J. back to the wall they all sat at, “genius's lover, and the black guy's girlfriend” the man noted as his men became eerily quiet.

“The blonde girl was with that skinny guy,” a man pointed to Spencer, “And that one,” he pointed to Derek, “but they kept going to crowded places and bumping into people that we couldn't get them, and the other...one”

“The sexy one?” the boss's voice rang out with a grin.

“YOU LEAVE (Y/N) OUT OF THIS YOU BAS-” Spencer yelled before one of the men kicked him in the stomach, causing him to cough harshly.

“Shut it druggie” the Boss said, the looks on the teams faces gave him all the pleasure, “oh yeah, we know all about you guys; how Hotchner lost his wife, Rossi has had 3 divorces, Morgan was sexually abused, Prentiss has had an abortion at 15 and J.J., sweet little J.J. had a miscarrige” snickers from the men could be heard as the team looked away, embarrassment? No, just confused as to how these people knew such intimate things about them.

“And that little lover of yours, genius?” another voice questioned, the voice came toward Spencer, gripped the poor boy's hair and ripped his head up to look up at him as a pained expression came over the doctor, “they’re in for it big!” he cackled, “gonna have a lot of fun with them when we get them later,” and with that he threw Spencer against the wall, Spencer groaned as a few of his teammates called his name but he didn't register it, only the pounding in his ears and the feeling of blood rushing down his head. And with that, the men and their boss left, the door to the sewer room shut and the click of a lock echoed around the room, the silence the team heard afterwards was loud, deafening.

------

“What’ve we got Garcia?” you asked the analyst as you walked back into the room, placing 3 files on the table in front of her.

“Okay, very few cases including those words you gave me, a lot of the cases were only one unsub or two and I highly doubt there were only two unsubs so I crossed them off and? I got nothing,” the girl sighed as she got rid of the tabs to continue working, “the facial recognition software and car registration is still going, i've got hits for all of our friends being in the places that they mentioned, all of them had unfortunately been walking at the time but they go from one camera to another and then suddenly they're gone,”

“So our unsubs are sophisticated, this definitely took time to plan and get the right things for,” you mumbled as you looked at the victim board Garcia had hastily made up on the clear plastic, each member of your team's faces were up there along with a few other colour pieces of paper for the unsubs, and that's it.

“I haven't gotten any hits on the cars either” Garcia mentioned softly, you nodded.

“Okay well, i've got three cases here that all mention those words from before. First one is a group of five unsubs from Rossis and Gideons days but a lot of them are in jail if not all of them, the second is a cult group from Missouri and the last one is a gang of over thirty people; and not all of those thirty people had been found, prosecuted, jailed, killed and etcetera you get it” you fanned out the files and opened each of them.

“Which one do we think it is?” Garcia asked, we had no leads of which one it really is, so you took a breath and read over the files.

“Okay well, the five unsubs are all in jail and only two have been let out of prison in the last six months and it wouldn't be them because they only have two people in their gang, they’re loyal so they wouldn't start a new group without the originals” you closed the file and pushed it away and moved onto the other one, “the cult is rather big but they’re based in Missouri and i don't think they’d travel all the way over here to kidnap agents. This isn't religious or anything and they are so, definitely not them” you closed the file and landed on the last one, “okay, this one,” you looked over the file as Garcia started typing away, “fifteen have gotten out of jail in the past 2 years, five where never found and the rest are still in jail” you looked to Garcia, “this could be it”

“AH HA!” Garcia exclaimed, “i have a hit on three of those people who are in the system and they are following our lovely friends” Garcia typed another second as multiple video cameras came up showing your friends walking (or stumbling depending on who it was) along with one of three people following behind them a few feet.

“It has to be them then,” you said, “i'll go back down and find the rest of the files, Garcia i want you to find every bit of land, buildings, warehouses and houses they have ever bought, i want to know what they ate for breakfast on the third of january last year, i want to know what plumbing system they used in 2016; i wante everything” you said, albeit forcefully, as you walked out of the room and towards the file room again as Anderson walked back into the conference room and handed Garcia a few papers.

“Thank you Anderson,” Garcia mumbled as he looked over the paper, and sure enough there was fingerprints that matched one of the people who followed your teammates, Garcia then pulled up the video surveillance of the BAU and the facial recognition was quick to find the man enter the room, place the folder down with glove-less hands before walking out, he had a visitors pass.

-------

The scraping of metal against the floor awoke each member of the team slowly as a few people walked into the room, placed food trays on the ground in front of each team member, uncuffed the team and then walked out. The team looked to each other as a voice floated through a P.A. system above them.

“It isn't poisoned, and if you don't eat it then that's up to you but you will starve,” and the system shut off with a harsh beep.

“Hotch?” Derek asked.

“Eat unless you want to die,” was all their unit chief said before he moved forward and started eating the sandwich he had. Emily followed suit and gave a throaty moan as she drank the water from the goblet on the tray, the others soon followed.

-------

“There's nothing,” Garcia said as you entered the room again, “they don't have any land or anything,”

“Well find something then,” you said harshly, Garcia jumped slightly at your harsh tone but started typing again as you pinned up photos of each of the members out of the prison, “have you done a deep search on each person that's out of prison and that wasn't found?” you asked Garcia.

“Yes! Yes, five of the fifteen have alibis from the night our friends got taken and i can't find the rest nor can i find those other five that were never found, they really are off the grid (Y/n)” Garcia said as her fingers flew fast against the keyboard, you looked at the clock on the other side of the room.

“Ten hours,” you muttered, “god only knows what they’re going through,” you rubbed your hand over your face and paced slightly, “we have 15 persons of interest and we can't find them, do the ones with alibis have addresses?”

“They all do, three have work and home and the other two dont work and are stay-at-home-dads, all of their names and addresses have been sent to your phone” Garcia told you as a ping from your phone sounded.

“Okay, i'm going to go and check out that place Spencer gave me before he got taken, i'm gonna grab a few other people to go to other addresses because it'll save time and then regroup back here,” you said as you pulled your phone to your ear and started calling a few people.

~

You parked the car and made your way to French Road which was, as Spencer did say, to the east of the FBI headquarters. It looked like any other little street, a few cafes and a few empty blocks, it wasn't in the city but it wasn't in the suburbs; it wasn't deserted but it wasn't crowded, you noted this. Spencer and Derek weren't taken from here because they were in the middle of the city at the time of abduction, so there has to be something here that Spencer saw to make you come here. You looked in every alleyway on both sides of the street, doing a shallow dig in the dumpsters, opening a few cafe doors and asking a few questions but ending up with nothing. You let out a huff as you looked up and down the street again, until you realised something.

This was a dead end street. The end was a large circle so cars could do a U-turn and go the opposite way, stationed at the end of the street is a path to some sort of forest/secluded jogging track, this had to be a lead, it has to be. The leaves and sticks crunched as you walked along the track, your gun positioned next to you in your hand, ready for action whenever needed, that's when your phone made a large shrill and scared you half to death.

“What is it Mike?” you asked into the receiver after realising it was the other team who was out asking questions.

“We have a lead for the group from one of the stay-at-home-dads; they’ve been planning this for awhile but haven't put effort into it except for the past six months. We couldn't get a name because the guy was too loyal and was convinced they’d come after him but he did tell us that they tried to get in contact with him to regroup, he obviously refused but they left him alone after that, one phone call and nothing else,” Mike said, you could hear the slam of a car door as he got into one of the SUVs with his partner.

“Okay, that's good Mike, get that to Garcia and see if she can try and trace that call and what tower it's pinged from,” and with that you hung up as you heard Mike say ‘got it’ before the line went dead. You looked as far down the path as you could from where you stood but didn't go any further, if this was a lead then you would need backup and probable cause as to why you're there.

~

“All five of those men checked out with the same story, they each got a call asking them to rejoin the team and they refused, the caller disconnected right after that but they haven't gotten any threats since then. Unfortunately i couldn't find a tower it was pinging from and the number was from five different burner phones too,” Garcia said as you looked over the victim board.

“Background searches with those ten we had earlier?” you asked, “found anything else?”

“Um one, he's only 26 and but its a loose thread,” the picture came onto the screen, the man looked like he could pass as 16, “James Micheal, 26, the only thing i could find was that his credit card has weird transactions over the past six months so it fits our timeline however, i can't find the account it's going to so it must be a bugged one or fake or something similar” Garcia said as she brought up the transactions.

“Found him on the streets?” you asked, Garcia grinned and brought up a video feed, and upon further inspection, plus audio, you now had a profile.

-------

“Right-o,” a voice said, the metal door screeched open causing the team to wince as he and 2 other men stepped in, “who wants to go first?” he questioned, the sickening grin could be heard through his speech as the sewer was way too dark to see 3 feet in front of them.

“Grab the kid, he had the addiction,” another voice muttered before the men moved forward.

“HEY FUCK OFF,” Spencer yelled as two of the men tried to pin him down, Derek started scrambling towards Spencer to help but after a nasty blow to the jaw he backed away with guilt.

“Get the needle,” one of them said, this caused Spencer to tense, fuckfuckfuckfuck, this can't be happening, no way are they gonna inject him again.

“Look nerd, it's your old friend!” the first man said as he shook a small clear bottle in the slim stream of light from the roof, and sure enough there was a label with the one word that caused Spencer's fight or flight to make its appearance, Dilaudid.

“NO, DON'T YOU D-” a punch to the jaw caused Spencer to splutter and breath heavily as his arm was grabbed roughly, tied and the needle entered into his skin and vein, he sobbed. The team heard Spencer whimper as he felt the liquid inject into his veins and bloodstream, the telltale shortness of breath was quick to take its mark along with the immediate drowsiness as the men walked out without saying another word.

“SPENCE” J.J. exclaimed as the man in question fell into a slumber and the team crowded around the twitching boy, it was just like last time.

“Protect him,” Hotch said, “don't let them take him in this state, fight, bite, kick, i dont give a single shit,” the team looked at Hotch and nodded as they all took a silent oath to protect their friend.

------

“Our unsubs are up to ten people, possibly fifteen or more if they have recruited new people,” you started the profile with Garcia standing next to you, “we have one person of interest as of right now, James Micheal, we have video evidence and audio evidence of him speaking to each member of the BAU team trying to proposition them, as you all know a few of our team members would have ignored him, and a few would have talked or said a simple no; those who didn't say anything he continued to walk next to and annoy until that team member said something,” you took a breath, “we have evidence of James stalking the BAU team for the past 4 months from their work, to their home, to where they go for dinner on a special night or the bar; this includes both myself and Garcia in this stalking pile, we have added extra security to our own homes.”

“James has been making up to five thousand dollar transactions to some bugged account for the past six months and another two thousand dollars to a seperate account 2 months prior to those first six months,” Garcia was now delivering the digital trail, “this means he has been with this team for at least eight months, possibly more, he is most likely new, shy and unsure of what he is doing. James is being used and he knows he is but he has no way out as our unsubs keep saying things like ‘ill kill your family’, ‘you're nothing without us’, stuff like that,” Garcia used her hands to talk as she also pointed to the victim board to the photo of James’ driver's license.

“This team on unsubs are highly dangerous and we must proceed with caution around and with them, they all have gotten out of jail in the past 2 years and they obviously have a vengeance plan, please remember this. We also have a lead to where this team of unsubs could possibly be hiding but until we have James we cannot infiltrate the area. There is a fake missing person report out for James so we can hopefully get him into questioning, thank you,” and with that the people around you filtered away back to where they were meant to be going. You turned to Garcia.

“Do you think that was enough? What if we don't get to them wh-”

“Garcia stop, we cant think like that, we are the best of the best even without the team, okay?” you held Garcia enough to ground her as she nodded and wiped her tears.

“SSA (L/n)?” a new voice asked, you looked to the glass doors and sure enough, James Micheal was waiting there.

“James,” you said as you walked towards him.

“I saw the flyers and I just have one proposition,” James said, his voice was deep and definitely didn't match his face.

“What is it?” you asked as you walked to the interrogation room and allowed James to sit down in front of you with your back to the mirror, Garcia and Anderson were already standing in the small room before the interrogation room.

“I want protection until those guys are back in prison, i don't want them anywhere near me and i don't want them to find me,” James said, his voice was ridden with anxiety, you nodded.

“We can do that James, it's alright,” you reassured the man in front of you, “can you tell us who is in this group? Where are they staying?” you asked, James nodded.

“There's ten in the group, they're off the beaten track down some street in the east-”

“French Road?” you questioned, James nodded.

“Yeah, yeah that one,” he agreed, that was everything you needed from the previous encounter, “they don't have a lot of security but they’re pretty sophisticated with what they have on hand. They know everything about all of that team though,” Jack mentioned, “Emily got an abortion and that Red dude?”

“Reid” you corrected.

“Reid, they know of his Dilaudid thing and Hotch and his wife - they know everything,” Jack was shaking now, “they-they said they were going to use that against the team, the addiction, the trauma all of that”

“They’re going to dose Reid?” you asked with your shaken voice, that wasn't a good thing. Jack nodded as he looked to the clock.

“Most likely have already,” he whispered, you looked to the clock, 12 hours since the disappearance. Fuck. You nodded.

“You’ll be taken by another agent to a safe house and let out when this team is apprehended,” was all you said before walking out of the room and letting the door shut behind you. Your throat tightened and you couldn't breath as you sunk to your knees, Garcia and Anderson rushing to you.

“Breath (Y/n), breath” Garcia reminded you, “breath with me my sweetness” she said, Garcia made more effort to show her breathing as you tried to copy her, a few minutes passed before you had finally calmed down, tears streaked your eyes as you bumbled your words.

“I-its French road, Spencer was onto something,” you mumbled softly, “th-they know everything, from Reid's addi-addiction to Emily, and Hotch's wife,” you took a deep breath, “I-I want S.W.A.T. stationed with me, w-we’re going to infiltrate that place with the hel-lp of Jack and his direction-ns, possibly a map,” you looked to Anderson who nodded and walked out while taking out his phone to call for S.W.A.T., “Garcia i dont want you there,” you said, looking at the girl, she nodded in understanding as you stood up and started walking towards the way of the S.W.A.T. team.

------

J.J, Derek, Emily, Hotch and Rossi all whimpered as each member got kicked, punched, pulled, twisted and everything in between, Spencer was only just coming to from the drugs.

“N-no, dont,” Spencer whimpered, he was weak and could barely open his eyes but soon slipped back into a slumber.

“Y-you won't get away with this,” Emily whispered as one of the men gripped her jaw, her voice hoarse and scratchy.

“Oh darling, we will,” the man grinned as he threw the girl to the floor as the others piled the team on top of the others, all groaning and silently crying.

In retrospect, (Y/n) was rather glad that all members of the team were in the room when the door was busted open.

“FBI, PUT YOUR HANDS UP,” you yelled, the words echoing around the room, the men snickered as S.W.A.T. trained their guns on the men.

“It’s alright boys,” the boss said, your eyes trained towards the voice.

“Let. My team. Go,” you said calmly, gun now cocked, the man laughed.

“Go on boys,” the men moved out of the room but the boss stayed standing.

“Grab the team,” you said to S.W.A.T. behind you, the men walked in slowly and trusted you with your trained gun as they started carrying or walking out your team members, one having to cradle Spencer bridal style, “ambulance,” you said into the mic on your vest, “we need an ambulance for a poentional OD, Dilaudid was used, possibly a cocktail of other drugs but its unknown. Dont use other narcotics and if i find out you do i will be going to jail due to murder of doctors and nurses,” the sirens wailed in the distance.

“You’ve got tendencies too,” the boss said in front of you, “murder, killing, everything” you scoffed.

“Everyone does, its whether we have the empathy and understanding of ‘that's wrong’, which is why we don't do it unlike you people,” you seethed through your teeth, “hands up, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and torture of six FBI agents,” the man stayed silent for a moment.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” the man said, “pathetically in love with Agent Spencer Re-”

“It’s Doctor,” a voice said behind you, the cock of a gun could be heard before the tell-tale sound of a bullet being fired next to you, your natural reflexes made you dive to the right (as the bullet came from the left) as the boss was hit in the forehead and fell to the floor. You looked to the gun carrier.

Spencer Reid.

Gun held out straight, no tremble and a stern look.

Spencer looked to you and tears immediately spilled from his eyes as you stayed stone against the floor, “i see you got my message,” Spencer said softly with a smile before he collapsed to the floor in a heap of limbs, the gun clattering to the floor as paramedics rush to Spencers aid.

It seemed to go in slow motion, everything whizzed past you as other paramedics helped you to your feet, your eyes glassy and vision blurred as you got brought to the back of an ambulance. Around you each member of your team was being attended to, brought to a stretcher and taken in another ambulance, eight ambulance’s in total.

It was okay, you got all of the men, all of your team was safe.

Except.

“HES FLATLINING”

“We need to get him to the hospital NOW!”

“HE'S GOING TO O.D.”

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